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#(even if my doing so might eventually shift the line out to where it embraced me again!)

pixelkip · 11 months

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Aight. It's Annello time.

SO my interpretation of Annello has a slightly different backstory from the semi-official one given by Rageminer. They still fuse the same way, with Annie showing up after Garcello dies but is still hanging around as a ghost, she runs up and reaches out for him and. Yea.

A big difference in mine though is that the fusion isn't as much physically painful as it is uh,, mentally. Once they fuse both.. I guess sides?? of them are terrified and confused. Once they even realize what happened they're understandably fuckin horrified. Mostly because.. it technically means the 2 won't really see each other ever again

I say this cause.. while I might refer to them acting more like Annie or garcy, it's not a situation of 2 consciousnesses (is that even a word hell if I know) existing simultaneously, but just one with personality traits and memories of both. Sure, they can recognize what parts of them come from who, but they still are just one.

It also takes them a while to really be able to function again. Their highly conflicting personality traits can make it really hard for them to make decisions and the energetic-ness from Annie and anxiety from Garcello don't exactly mix nicely. They are simultaneously not used to being so energetic and highly emotional from Garcy's side, and not used to being so anxious and tired from Annie's side. They have a lot of moments where Annie's impulsivity kicks in, they do something kind of foolish and immediately wonder wait why the hell did I do that??

They also probably talk to themself a lot. Both cause they sometimes need to do that to get their thoughts in order and cause they're lonely :[

They eventually start sorting themself out though (but also with my version of them they at least have lil Rascal with them, since for me she and Annie would've had a sibling-rivalry type relationship that would carry over to annello, but that's probably a post for another day)

So. I imagine their actual personality being a slightly ominous goofball. I say ominous because come the fuck on they have both the Annie chaos and the garcy calm chill guy demeanor. Do u see what I'm going for here. They're gonna take Garcy's mysterious dude in the alleyway thing and take it to the next level by actually seeming like theyre totally up to something. They can go from tired bastard to bouncy ball of mischief within seconds. I think they'd start to lean into how they seem weird and unpredictable, since it's something about them they really can't change, might as well embrace it.

I imagine them kind of speaking with kind of a sweet but sly tone while also sounding very calm and quiet. Unlike their 1 official voice line, I hc that their voice can shift between sounding more like Annie or garcello, with it naturally changing depending on how they feel or what they're trying to convey. They could also consciously change it but they can't perfectly mimick one or the other. If they're excited or shouting though, that's how you get then speaking with both voices at the same time.

Ok that's mostly it for their character but there's a few more lil details that didn't really fit in this whole explanation so here's a few more things I came up with, sometimes with inspo from people on discord:

- since they're a fusion of a very much alive Annie and a ghost garcy, annello is half-ghost. For a while they'd randomly phase through things accidentally before they learned to get it under control. Might also allow them to dissappear at will. Because fuck you I think that's fun and cool

- said half-ghost thing also lead to an agreement that Hiroari Shoots A Strange Bird ~ Till When? is annello boss fight theme. Though, I also heavily associate them with Hartmann's Youkai Girl too. Fuck I can't avoid bringing up touhou every chance I get god dAMMIT FU

- oh on the topic of songs that fit my version of them. Deathbody by Ghost and Pals and The Ballad of Jane Doe from Ride the Cyclone

- I'm not sure if I'm keeping this now but i feel like it's worth adding, I had an old liquid form design for annello where they were more of a vapor-y ghost monster instead

- they have a bit of claustrophobia, both cause of their memory of dying in a small alley but also because they are significantly taller than the 2 goobers were, everything they're familiar with like their apartment and such feels smaller to them.

-oh yea. They're taller than even garcello was. I imagine them at like 6'5-7 ft tall

- they are the epitome of 2 idiots does not make a smart person. It makes an ominous but awkward airheaded dingus

- despite them being all weird and shit they're a complete fucking softie. I don't need to explain why with these 2 goobers it should be obvious

- for a good while after they fused they dressed like a complete fucking mess since they didn't know how the fuck they wanted to dress. This is what happens when u have the fashion taste of an emo furry and a man who'd wear pajamas 24/7 if it was socially acceptable

- they have fangs, but unlike Annie that's the only part of their teeth that are still sharp. Even so, garcys influence means they still feel awkward having them, so the fangs cause them to sometimes speak with a bit of a lisp

- still kibby just a really fuckin weird one

That's all. Have some doobles of the silly and uhh stan annello or perish

#annello #hazy river #garcello #annie fnf #long post #im very not sorry for being completely ridiculous about them

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folightening · 1 year

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At the End of the World - Spamano

**still working on the title

Hetalia | Spamano | Rating T | Comfort at the end of the world. Not quite sure what sort of warnings are needed if any.

----

Spain had considered seeing his former colonies. Apologizing. That would have been a waste of his final hours. So he returned home, looked through memories, and went out to his lovely garden one last time. He cared for the plants for comfort's sake; they would all be gone tomorrow. Calls from Portugal, France, and Prussia were the only ones he took. England left a message and if he were a better man he might have responded. Any texts were ignored, the phone silenced. Only one other person truly mattered, and he–

A body collided with his and Spain fell to the ground. He recognized the cries, the cologne, the warm body's fit against his own. Romano, his dear grumpy Romano, was a mess. It was likely that he'd been a mess for the past few hours. Without thought or hesitation he held Romano close in a tight embrace.

"I'm here mi cielo."

Romano clung harder to him and Spain's heart ached. It wasn't unusual for Romano to be in tears or to cling onto Spain, as much as he'd deny the clinging, but the exact nature of his crying was new. Inconsolable, heartbreaking sobs shook his being and Spain hated it. That there was nothing he could do only made it hurt more.

"Not ready," Romano said when his cries finally quieted. Spain continued rubbing circles into his back.

"No one is."

Romano shifted and sat up, and Spain stared in open adoration. Even with evidence of his breakdown all over his face, Romano was beautiful. A few times Romano opened his mouth only to close it without a word.

Spain reached up, threading his fingers into the silky hair and guiding Romano down into a series of gentle, lingering kisses. Slowly Romano relaxed until he eventually pushed back to look down at Spain.

"I love you," Romano declared. "I haven't told you anywhere near half as often as you deserve."

"I heard it."

Romano weakly smiled, the pathetic curve dropping almost instantly.

"I'm so… I'm sorry. For everything. I–"

Spain shushed Romano with another kiss.

"I know, Roma. I know. You have nothing to apologize for."

Romano smiled, his tear streaked face brightening in a way Spain rarely got to see. That he could see it one last time made the entire situation more bearable.

"Now let's put that aside and be happy in our final hours."

"I don't know how you can do it."

Spain smiled and sat up, pecking Romano's lips before standing. He wanted to break down. To cry and scream and run away. But there was no point in any of that. So he drew on his people's cheerful ignorance of their impending end and kept a smile.

Romano was here.

Everything was fine if Romano was with him.

Spain grabbed Romano's hand and spun him around. Romano's surprised yelp changed to laughter and he seamlessly fell in step with Spain.

They didn't follow either's traditional dance, or any technical dance for that matter. They stayed close for the little comfort the closeness brought. Simple and slow, it wasn't about the steps; it was about them and their being together.

At some point Spain started crying. Silent crying that blurred his vision and wet his cheeks but did nothing to lessen his smile. Romano cupped his cheek and rubbed away his tears in a gesture that brought comfort.

Spain pressed their foreheads together and released a breath. This was where he wanted to be. With Romano. No one - nothing - else mattered in these moments.

"You made it all worth it," Spain whispered.

"Damn right I did," Romano said. Then in a murmur; "Don't steal my line Bastard."

Spain chuckled and sighed in content. Everything was more than fine when Romano was with him.

#hetalia #spamano #aph spain #aph romano #hws spain #hws romano #FoL stuff #I keep feeling like I should add more but I also think it's fine #part of an au where the world IS ending #they realized there was nothing they could do and decided to spend their last day however they want #I want to do stuff with the others but actually deciding what to do is a pain

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dmss-blog-salian · 1 year

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Blog Post - 02

Virtual Reality Isn’t Really Real

It’s 2022 and we all know what Virtual Reality or VR is. So, I’m not going to bother explaining it because it would be utterly pointless. If you happen to be one of those outliers who genuinely has no clue about what I’m referring to, a simple Google search will help.

One of the ongoing debates on VR revolves around just how realistic it all is. There are plenty of great brains, ranging from engineers to philosophers, who argue that VR is the next phase in human evolution. Apparently, simulated realities will replace our physical world and allow us to transcend into newer realms of existence. Could this actually happen?

Well, one influential thinker believes it definitely will. He says it is our destiny and we must not shy away from embracing it. David Chalmers, Professor of Neural Science and Philosophy at the New York University, argues for this in his book, aptly titled ‘Reality+’. Chalmers says that technology will eventually blur the lines between physical and virtual reality, at least as far as sensory perception and feedback are concerned.

According to Chalmers, VR is largely misunderstood or misinterpreted as a “faux reality” and that this perception is completely flawed. To him, VR is no different from actual physical reality. The philosopher’s arguments might make sense at first. In fact, these arguments aren’t even new. They’re largely influenced by Plato’s and Descartes’ ideas on reality – that it could all just be a simulation and we have no way of ever truly knowing. Chalmers takes it one step further and basically implies that VR is just another layer of simulation within the one we’re supposedly already in.

But, there’s a problem – the philosophers are very wrong about his one. However, I’m not going to bother explaining why, especially when I can save time and effort by simply linking you to the facts presented by an actual physicist - https://bigthink.com/thinking/why-the-simulation-hypothesis-is-pseudoscience/

Also, I have no intention of digressing from the actual topic, which is VR isn’t really all that it’s made up to be. Scientific theories and philosophical musings aside, let’s look at the ground reality.

VR is a Failure. Already.

Not too long ago, there was plenty of noise being made about VR but that’s all it turned out to be – just noise. In 2016, the VR industry witnessed a massive infusion of capital; $900 million to be specific. However, just 2 years later, that figure fell all the way down to $280 million.

Facebook’s Oculus planned to sell around a billion headsets in 2019, but ended up selling a measly 300,000.

VR based entertainment venues and cinematic experiences across the globe are either shutting down , downsizing or just shifting to new offerings.

The general opinion on VR isn’t favourable either, with critics calling out the lack of imaginative content.

Of course, a lot of the tepid response to VR can be linked to the technology still being in its early stages or the high costs associated with hardware. Even so, it cannot be denied that VR really isn’t grabbing any attention.

So, what’s the underlying issue here? Well, as far as I’m concerned, it’s reality. Virtual Reality is just that – it’s virtual. It’ll never live up to the real thing. There’s a massive difference between riding an actual roller-coaster and riding a simulated one. VR, especially the kind we have now, is incapable of providing even half the sensory input that a real-world roller-coaster ride can. There are scientific studies that back up my theory.

In a 2015 neuroscientific study involving mice, researchers found that the neurons in the brain weren’t simply firing as much as they normally do when the mice were placed in a VR setting. The brain cells simply weren’t communicating enough information.

Researchers also observed place cells, which are known to aid in navigation. In layman’s terms, these cells basically tell the mice where they are. Outside VR, these cells respond about 80% of the time, allowing the mammal to recognize its location. However, inside VR, this response drops to about 30%, which means the mice pretty much lose track of their location.

This is just one of many studies showing VR’s inability to keep up with a complex organ such as the mammalian brain.

Resident Evil 4 – Engaging, But Not “Real”

One of the few VR titles that managed to do reasonably well was Resident Evil 4. Also, it’s the only VR game I’ve personally experienced. Credit where credit is due, the game did have several pros. For instance, It was one of the few 1st person shooter games under the VR banner that I really enjoyed. The feedback was great and the shooting was responsive.

However, did I find it engaging in terms of realism? Most definitely not. The movement was glitchy, which isn’t uncommon for VR. The graphics were far from real. In fact, they were quite outdated even by PC or console standards. There is nothing that felt real about this game.

What Does This Mean for My Practice:

VR has a tremendously long way to go in terms of replicating physical reality and even further when it comes to replacing it. In fact, I highly doubt it ever will. So, for now, VR simply remains a novelty. Nothing will come close to providing the experiences that the natural world can.

As a game designer, realism is of interest to me. However, there are several considerations to be made, especially ethical. We still have a long way to go in understanding the effects of VR on human biology. Other than that, the statistics speak for themselves – VR isn’t engaging or remotely “real”. Therefore, it wouldn’t be something I’d factor into my game design/development practice.

Sources:

Big Think. (n.d.). Why the simulation hypothesis is pseudoscience. [online] Available at: https://bigthink.com/thinking/why-the-simulation-hypothesis-is-pseudoscience/.

Sample, I. (2022). ‘Virtual reality is genuine reality’ so embrace it, says philosopher. [online] the Guardian. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2022/jan/17/virtual-reality-is-genuine-reality-so-embrace-it-says-us-philosopher.

Grijseels, D. (2020). Your brain isn’t the same in virtual reality as it is in the real world. [online] Massive Science. Available at: https://massivesci.com/articles/virtual-reality-vr-real-world-limitations-touch-smell-visual/.

Aghajan, Z. (2014b) Impaired spatial selectivity and intact phase precession in two-dimensional virtual reality. Available at: https://www.nature.com/articles/nn.3884?error=cookies_not_supported&code=8910015f-4199-44af-8875-c7a00c6486ac.

Campbell-Dollaghan, K. (2019). The big problem with virtual reality? It’s almost as boring as real life. [online] Fast Company. Available at: https://www.fastcompany.com/90432358/the-big-problem-with-virtual-reality-its-almost-as-boring-as-real-life.

Actforlibraries.org. (n.d.). Rene Descartes Vision of Reality. [online] Available at: http://www.actforlibraries.org/rene-descartes-vision-of-reality/.

Oculus. (n.d.). Resident Evil 4 on Oculus Quest. [online] Available at: https://www.oculus.com/experiences/quest/2637179839719680/?locale=en_GB [Accessed 10 Jan. 2023].

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 3 years

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I just know she fell asleep and he had to carry her back😔

Despite Y/N’s best efforts, her exhaustion overcomes her, and Harry accidentally falls asleep right along with the human, his better judgment caving under her comforting body heat and mellow breaths. Having her that close after so long soothes him more than he expected, and even though he fights it off as best as he can, both of them eventually knock out within the first fifteen minutes of cuddling.

They wake up tangled in each other’s limbs, Y/N wrapped in his arms with her legs intertwined between his calves and her lips pressed to the dip of his throat, his own flushed against her warm forehead out of needy instinct. He rises with a deep inhale, the cool morning air expanding his lungs as he comes to, the sun filtering in through the shades and casting a silvery glow across the entire bedroom. The second his lashes flutter open, his face immediately pales at the scene before him, his stomach dropping to his ass as he nearly screams bloody murder.

Y/N’s mom is hovering over the bed, her arms a crossed loosely over her chest with a lightly scolding expression across her features. He doesn’t know when she’d come in, or how long she’s been watching them sleep, but according to the accusing tone surrounding her, it’s likely been a few minutes. She taps her index finger against her lips in a silent warning, repeating the gesture along the shell of her ear to make sure the vampire interprets the message. Harry gawks up at her with wide, guilty eyes, mortification flooding across his face as realization settles into his groggy mind. He’s grateful that the duvet is covering below his hips, or else his girlfriend’s mother would be getting quite the eyeful.

He resists the urge to cover his bare chest like some sort of chastised harlot, pulling a slumbering Y/N deeper into his embrace out of protective impulse. He opens his mouth to defend himself meekly, accent throaty and low with drowsiness. “I can explain.”

“You don’t have to.” The older lady’s voice sounds surprisingly calm given the condemning situation, and for second, Harry thinks he might be dreaming. But then Y/N shifts in his grasp and sighs wistfully within her hazy state, and the hot air that cascades down his cold skin reminds him that he is very much awake.

Harry clears his throat gently, swallowing thickly in an attempt to gather his bearings. He tries to keep a collected front for the sake of his pride, but his words come out jumbled and clumsy. “We didn’t— I would never— it would be so disrespectful on my part to even think of doing that—”

Y/N’s mom holds up a hand, dismissing his excuses with a simple flick of her wrist. She shrugs casually, whispering her reply with shocking indifference. “You don’t have to make excuses, Harry. I don’t mind you sleeping together, as long as you do it without disturbing anyone else. You’re both adults; you’re entitled to do as you please.”

Harry feels like his jaw is going to fall off from how hard he’s gaping. She’s reacting unexpectedly well for a mother who just found her daughter half naked in bed with a man she’s barely known for a week.

“I was your age once,” the woman continues, a fond sheen glinting across her aged face, “so I understand where you’re coming from.”

The immortal restrains the urge to snort at the ironic assumption. I highly doubt it.

He doesn’t express his sarcasm aloud, obviously. Instead, he just nods slowly, choosing the safe route as a means to weasel himself out of this predicament.

“I personally don’t have an issue with this,” the lady motions vaguely towards their conjoined bodies covered in rumpled sheets, “but my husband, on the other hand…”

Harry instantly accepts her cautionary advice, struggling to prop himself up onto his elbows without disturbing his girlfriend. He can read between the woman’s lines easily enough— “Get her back into her bedroom before he comes in.” Y/N had told him that her dad is the one that goes into her room to rouse her every morning, so if he wanders in there as part of his daily routine and finds her bed empty…

“He was brushing his teeth when I left our bedroom.” Y/N’s mother murmurs, carefully turning her daughter onto her back so Harry can wriggle his way out from beneath her, helping as much as she can to keep him from getting crucified as a result of their childish irresponsibility. “You’ve got maybe thirty more seconds before he’s due. And frankly, I don’t really feel like witnessing an execution today. I just cleaned the rug downstairs, and blood is nearly impossible to get out.”

Harry huffs a nervous laugh at her joke, swinging his stiff legs over the edge of the bed and pushing himself onto his feet, no longer stressing about the fact that he’s in his underwear. Not when he has bigger problems to deal with. He tunes his enhanced hearing to gauge his chances of escape, and he can hear the unmistakable sound of a faucet shutting off and a toothbrush being tossed inside a ceramic holder. He doesn’t have time to warm up his legs, and he’d be a fucking moron to speed in a house full of an unsuspecting mortals, so he’ll have to settle for hobbling as fast as he can.

He delicately wedges his strong arms beneath Y/N, biceps flexing as he rolls her towards himself and scoops her up without a single issue. He arranges her as comfortably as possible within the makeshift cradle he’s created, glancing at her mother appreciatively as he begins pacing quickly across the carpeted floor. He mouths a silent, “Thank you.” as he scurries past her, feeling an immense sense of relief fill his tummy at the warm smile she gifts him in return. He knows he must look ridiculous right now with his curls standing up in frizzy tuffs and his eyes crusted with sleep, but it feels good to know she won’t hold this mishap against him. Her opinion is important to his relationship with Y/N, and the fact that she already likes him enough to be on his side takes a humungous weight off his shoulders.

Harry hurries down the corridor to Y/N’s room, nudging the door open with his foot as he rushes inside. He can hear Y/N’s mother descending down the stairs now that her savior mission has been complete, and he can hear Y/N’s father closing the door to the master bathroom as he prepares to emerge from the next room over, his muffled footsteps growing louder the closer he gets. The impending circumstances drive the vampire to act out of rashness.

He taps into a bit of his super-speed, swiftly placing his girlfriend down on her bed and tucking her in safely to suggest she’s been there all night; hopefully this attention to detail will deter any suspicion. He bends down to dust a tender kiss to her forehead, mumbling his words in a hushed tone as he shakes his head at his own expense. “The shit I do for you.”

He then makes a break for his the guest bedroom, leaving behind a chilly breeze and swaying curtains in his wake.

#ysijwa!ask #ysijwa!blurb

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ap-kinda-lit · 3 years

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Not With My Daughter!

Rating: T Pairing: Kawasara mainly, with a dash of Sasusaku too Summary: Sasuke sees something that doesn't please him one bit and he faces a realization that is much less palatable for him

Was requested to do a fic where Sasuke or Sakura catches Kawaki and Sarada a while back, but I finally did it! Here y’all go!

For the hundredth time that evening, Sasuke glanced at the clock. It was twelve past eight now. He grimaced. They should've been home by now... The Shadow Hokage anxiously drummed his fingers on his chair's arm. Sarada had left hours ago to train with her new teammate, the boy that Naruto had taken in. Kawaki, he thinks his name was? It didn't really matter right now. All that mattered to the Uchiha patriarch was that it was past Sarada's curfew and she wasn't home. Sasuke kicked himself. He never should've let her go off with that boy. He didn't trust him. This 'Kawaki' was new to the village, little was known about him, he had several incidents of trying to escape, causing chaos, and lashing out violently...and he was getting too close to Sasuke's peanut. Sasuke huffed and stood up from his seat. He couldn't take it anymore. He was not going to wait around while his baby girl was who-knows-where doing who-knows-what with a boy he barely knew. He was grabbing his cloak and house key when Sakura walked in. "Anata, where are you going? Is something wrong?" she asked. "No, everything is...fine." he was slow to finish his sentence. Sakura gave her husband a look and sighed. "Anata, you're not going to hunt down Sarada and Kawaki, are you?" she spoke with exasperation. "...perhaps..." Sasuke mumbled. "Sasuke-kun, I know they're late, but it's not late enough for you to go and terrorize the village looking for them." Sasuke grumbled something in disagreement. He draped his cloak around his shoulders and buttoned it, then turned towards the doorway. "Anata, at least leave your katana!" Sakura shouted after him, but Sasuke did not heed. He marched to the door, opened it and- Sasuke froze on the spot. He had seen a lot of terrible things in his line of work, but none compared to what he was seeing at that very moment: right there before him was Sarada (his sweet, innocent little girl) with her arms wrapped around the shoulders of none other than Kawaki as the two were locked in a simple but somewhat passionate liplock. Sasuke was first in shock which evolved into horror then, ultimately, an overwhelming and powerful rage. Sarada and Kawaki finally realized his presence and pulled apart from each other. "Papa!" Sarada squeaked in surprise. Sasuke's eye twitched. "Y-you..." he could barely speak through his all-consuming outrage. Kawaki said nothing and only stared back, looking alarmed. Sarada saw her father's Sharingan form and she quickly noticed his hand reaching for his katana. "Papa..." Sarada pleaded. But her pleas fell on deaf ears. Sasuke's one-track focus was honed in on one thing and one thing only: the mohawked little bastard who had the audacity to put his nasty lips on his daughter. "You...prepare to die..." Sasuke growled out. "Anata!" "Papa!" Sakura and Sarada shrieks were lost in the ensuing clamor of Sasuke unsheathing his katana in a flash of electric light and Kawaki's arm morphing into a large shield to protect himself from the incoming blade which easily cut through. Kawaki leaped from the doorstep and hit the ground running from his attacker. Sarada and her mother could only stay back and watch as the family man pursued the poor young boy, attacking him blindly with rage. Sakura gave her daughter a nervous smile. "I'm sure Papa won't harm Kawaki...badly." she assured her. Sarada sighed.

+++++

Sasuke eventually returned home, disheveled but fine and not quite as furious as he was earlier. Sarada and her mother talked prior to his return and Sarada was forbidden from going out for the rest of the week as punishment for not being home on time. Sarada went to bed afterwards and Sakura was waiting for her husband when he came into their room upon his arrival home. Sakura was giving Sasuke a concerned but amused look as he changed clothes. "I'm not apologizing for tonight." he promptly said. "I didn't say anything." Sakura responded. "You were thinking it." "Not really." Sasuke finished getting dressed and climbed into bed next to his wife. Sakura shifted to cuddle her husband and he responded by leaning into her embrace. "You did overreact, don't you think?" Sakura murmured into his chest. "I don't think I did." his reply was flat and matter-of-fact. "Anata..." "He had no right. He kept her past her curfew and he...did that...in front of us, her parents." Sasuke's irritation was apparent in how he spat out his last sentence as if it was a morsel of the most disgusting food he had ever eaten. Sakura propped her head up on her hand to look at her husband's face. "Sarada and I talked and she told me that she kissed him." she pointed out. "Sakura, don't tell me that." Sasuke cringed in disgust. Sakura giggled. "Oh, anata, I know that this may be hard for you to hear but Sarada is a young woman now. She's very capable of doing things by her own accord, especially things that we might not like." Sakura explained. Sasuke said nothing. He felt his wife's hand rest over where his heart was and she gave him a meaningful look. She sighed and continued, "I don't like it any more than you do, but it's a simple fact of life. Our baby...isn't a baby anymore." Still, Sasuke said nothing. As just about always, Sakura was right. He admired how she was usually right, but at times like this he wished she could be wrong more often. He really wanted her to be wrong in this case, but no. She was spot on. Her and Sasuke's little girl wasn't so little anymore, whether he liked it or not. To him, it felt like it was just yesterday that he was carrying her on his shoulders as he took her around the woods and sitting on the ground of their home with her, playing with stuffed animals and her numerous toys and listening to her adorable baby babble. But now she was a lot bigger and walked on her own two feet, played with kunai and shuriken, and preferred the company of a mohawked punk over her father's. Melancholy and nostalgia built up in Sasuke and a lump formed in his throat. Sakura could tell right away what was going on in his mind. She nuzzled her head against his neck lovingly. "But it's not the end of the world. No matter how old she gets or who she's with, she's always gonna want her papa in her life." she said. Sasuke's silence clearly meant he took what his wife just said into consideration. "...okay." he said. Sakura smiled. She gave her husband one last kiss and they said their 'good nights'. With that, they fell asleep.

+++++++

A week later, when her punishment was lifted and she was free to go out, Sarada came bouncing down the stairs. "Mama, Kawaki and I are going to the training fields to practice with shuriken. Is that okay?" she asked Sakura. Sakura glanced at Sasuke, who was sitting in his armchair reading a newspaper. "It's alright with me. What about you, anata?" Sakura said. Both Sarada and Sakura looked to Sasuke, waiting for his answer. Sarada looked anxious about what he would say. Internally, Sasuke warred with himself. The overprotective part of him railed against its cage, decrying his daughter going anywhere with a young man who was that close with her, but to no avail. The Uchiha patriarch swallowed and said, "Fine by me." Sarada smiled. "Thank you, Papa." "Just be sure to be back by eight, okay?" Sasuke quickly reminded her. Sarada gave her father a peck on his temple. "I promise." she answered. After that, she gave her mother a 'good bye' and skipped away to see Kawaki. Sakura smiled at her husband. "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" "Yes, it kind of was." Sasuke said. He sighed and added, "But I'll live." Sakura nodded at him. All was silent for a moment until Sasuke spoke again. "But if he tries anything with her when I'm around, I can't promise that I will be merciful with him." Sakura burst out laughing.

End

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happysoot · 3 years

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waking up together || dream smp blurbs

✧ pairings ↠ sapnap x reader, karl x reader, quackity x reader, niki x reader. ↠ dream smp!characters; in-game au; gn!reader.

✧ warnings ↠ none! this is very, very fluffy.

✧ word count ↠ 1.6k.

✧ a/n ↠ this is my first time writing for any of the dream smp characters, but I had a lot of fun with this! soft gentle domestic fluff makes my heart happy :’) ! if you have any requests or suggestions, please please send them in! <3

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ

✧ sapnap x reader ✧

waking up beside sapnap is like waking up beside a teddy bear. when he sleeps, he runs hot, and that means that every time you wake up together, you’re smothered in a warm embrace that heats you up completely. once it’d become clear that you enjoy sleeping beside him, you’d had to adapt, taking on a few traditions to balance out the warmth you get from his cuddles.

you sleep in less, choosing light pyjamas or t-shirts over a hoodie like you might’ve previously done. the duvet you rest beneath is thinner, and often you’ll end up kicking it off in your sleep. all you need is sapnap, and the warmth of his arms curled around you, and despite the changes that you’ve had to make, you wouldn’t want it any other way. nothing beats how safe you feel wrapped up with your face buried in his chest.

sapnap likes to wake you up with gentle kisses up your neck. he’ll shyly run the line up to your jaw, often leaving a chaste kiss to the tip of your chin before shuffling down and burying his face in your neck as he whines about the gaps in the blinds. it doesn’t matter what time it is, nor how much sleep you’ve both had—sap never wants to wake up, and you never want to let him go.

so you cuddle together, often into the afternoon. if you’ve both had busy weeks and haven’t spent much time together, cuddling in the mornings is the best way to recharge. he’s always so cute, too. nothing brings out sapnap’s adoration for you like the gentle warmth of the morning, and he loves showering you with his favourite pet names. with his inhibitions sleepy and lowered, he’s quick to shower you with any nickname that comes to mind, mumbling them into the air without a second thought—sweetheart, angel, cutie.

he’s so doting, constantly lifting his face so he can kiss you, or running his hand soothingly over your side. sapnap holds you like you’re his entire world—and maybe, with the way he holds you so tightly and whimpers every time you try to shift away—you are.

✧ karl x reader ✧

karl is always frantic in the mornings, his eyes widening with panic the moment he stirs awake. with desperate hands, he carefully runs his fingers all over your face, tracing the lines of your nose, your cheeks and lips with his fingertips. it used to confuse you—you never understood why he held you so tightly and seemed relieved every time you opened your eyes to smile at him, but then you found out about the spaces in his memory, and things became clearer.

he has a routine now, some steps he likes to complete each morning to calm himself. as soon as he wakes, karl turns in the bed to face you, pressing his cheek onto the same pillow as yours as he lifts his hand to rest on your face. while he waits for you to wake up, he gently strokes his fingers across your cheek, his eyes analysing every line of your face, every ridge of your skin, and every strand of your hair as he scrambles to print them to his memory.

when you blink open your eyes, he’s usually looking at you, or he’s resting close with his eyes shut. you let him know that you’re awake by cuddling closer and linking your hands together, squeezing his fingers until he hums. you have a quick exchange of muttered words, neither of you wanting to break the softness of the silence—

‘did you sleep well, baby?’ / ‘yeah, karl. did you?’ / ‘mmm. you look so pretty in the morning.’

like his hands, once you’re awake, karl likes to run his mouth across your face, learning your skin with his lips. following this, he likes to nudge you onto your back and climb on top of you, warm body resting over yours as he holds your face in his hands and studies you attentively. you always like to tangle your hands in his hair, loosely playing with the messy strands of his hair as he whispers words of affirmation between gentle kisses to your cheeks, his loving words doused in soft pink—

’i love you so much, baby, you look so perfect today… so cute. so beautiful. i'm so lucky.’

he holds you with purpose, always keeping at least one hand on you at all times. you’re like a grounding force to him, and he hates straying too far from your side. even when you both eventually get up, he slips his hand in yours and you let it stay there, swinging between you, for as long as he needs it to be there. sometimes you stay connected all day.

✧ quackity x reader ✧

quackity is a very busy man, always scheming, always plotting. you don’t get to spend much time together during the day, so he always makes the most of the moments you share each morning.

he’s the type of person who finds the energy to spring to life suddenly every morning, possessing the quality of being able to wake up one moment and then be fully alert the next. though he never tries to intentionally rouse you, he somehow always ends up coaxing you from your slumber, either through trying to tug you closer or muttering his adoring coos too loudly.

he’s always quick to apologise and offer up tighter cuddles or soft kisses in reparation, and really, you think it’d be hard to hold a grudge against him. quackity is always so cute in the mornings—he melts around you so easily, losing his brash sense of humour whenever you rest together. he might be calmer, but he’s still got that charmingly boyish twinkle in his eyes, and if quackity’s feeling particularly mischievous, sometimes he’ll let his hands go on a wander around your figure as he rasps praising profanities into your ear.

quackity’s usually the first out of bed, and though he leaves you alone to go and make some breakfast, he always comes back, bringing with him your favourite foods and drinks. you sit up against the headboard and he stretches out across the bottom of the bed, staring up at the ceiling with one of his arms in the air, the other resting on the bottom of your leg as you chat. he always likes to know what your plans for the day are, always likes to see if he can find small slots in his schedule to break away and meet up with you.

when he leaves you, it’s never in a hurry, even if he’s got places to be. he prioritises you over everything—hangs onto your lips until he has to go, buries his face in your neck to inhale your scent, squeezes your hands until your fingers ache. both of you treasure the mornings because they’re so serene and so safe, and he keeps the memory of you tucked up together locked away in the back of his mind as he goes about his day, falling back to it every time things get tough. you are his favourite daydream.

✧ niki x reader ✧

since niki started baking again, it’s less often that you’ll find yourself waking up beside your girlfriend. most mornings, niki is gone hours before you stir, enjoying walking through the rays of early-morning sun as she goes to her bakery to start preparing the food. you’re used to an empty bed beside you, but it never deeply upsets you.

niki always leaves small reminders, hidden all around the house, to express her love towards you even when she can’t be by your side. she always tucks you in before she goes, and she carefully smoothes your hair from your face. sometimes, if you’re sleeping lightly, you’ll rouse just enough to feel her kiss your forehead as she goes out. she is always so soft with you, even so early, closing the doors gently and leaving your favourite mug out by the kettle.

though you’ve told her a thousand times before that you don’t mind her absence—how could you, when being in the bakery makes her so happy?—niki always tries to make it up to you. most days, she’ll drop by briefly when her loaves are rising just to see you again, always with a fresh pastry or a loaf of your favourite bread, scattered with the seeds in the shape of a heart.

she kisses your cheek and asks you about your dreams, letting your hands swing between you both, your fingers wrapped in hers. when she has to go back to the bakery, you’ll usually walk with her, pinkies interlocked, listening to her tell you stories from her morning and letting the sounds of her laughter light up the air like the sweetest birdsong.

as much as you’re used to the empty bed beside you, on the rare mornings where niki does sleep in, it has to be one of your favourite things.

she curls up into you, face nuzzled into your chest. her hair always smells of sweet strawberries, scent drifting up your nose and alerting you to her presence before you feel her. niki is like a soft ball of warmth, so gentle even in her sleep, never moving too much. she’s usually awake before you, but she never rushes you to wake up. she waits until you’ve got your eyes open too to do anything, and even then, nothing is rushed.

it’s all gentle caresses and forehead kisses, shared whispers about dreams and the cosiness of your bed. you savour the feeling of her nose pressed to yours as she giggles. you like to have a hand wrapped around her, your palm resting on her back as you hold her to you, and she likes tangling your legs together and playing with your hair. things are gentle in the mornings with niki, and like the actions of the rising sun, she coaxes you into the day with ease.

#sapnap x reader #quackity x reader #karl x reader #niki x reader #dsmp fanfic #dsmp x reader #mcyt x reader

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animatedarchives · 4 years

Text

S/O GETS INJURED WHILE FIGHTING

— 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐈 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎, 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈, 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈, 𝐊𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐎 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐈

author’s note: HELLO DARLING!! yes, of course you can! i’m sorry it took so long but i hope you enjoy it :) siDE nOTE i’m so exCitEd because you are my first anon aHHH i love you so much thanks for requesting T^T <3 also sorry for making bakugo’s one so angsty LOL

Todoroki Shoto

You had just finished off the last of the villains on your side when your legs buckled and you collapsed with exhaustion

“Y/N!” Todoroki’s voice echoed from down the street

He used his ice quirk to get to you in the blink of an eye and immediately knelt by your side, completely forgetting about the villains he was fighting

“Are you hurt?” he asked, grabbing your arms with his large hands, gripping you so tightly with worry that the blood flow to your arms got cut off

“I’m fine,” you coughed weakly. “Just… tired…” you forced out

But it was obvious you were lying by the way you were practically gasping for air

Your eyes shifted to the approaching villains as they closed in on you two

Not even bothering to stand, Todoroki twisted his torso and hit them with a blast of fire

His face was stoic but fury burned ferociously in his eyes, insistent on not letting them get anywhere near you

The villains crumpled to the ground, unconscious and you smiled up at your boyfriend proudly, forever impressed by his prowess

He turned back to you, anger now replaced with concern as he gave you his full attention

“Can you stand?” he asked, worry etched into every part of his face

You nodded and grimaced as you tried to get up with his help

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through your ribs and you doubled over, grabbing your side

“You’re hurt,” he said, carefully laying you down on the ground, his left arm holding your body close to his

He gently pried your shaky fingers away from your ribs and replaced them with his right hand

You winced before letting out a sigh of relief, a cooling sensation spreading over your exposed ribs and numbing the pain

You stayed like that for a while; eyes closed as you focused on the feeling of Todoroki’s cool skin against yours

After you felt good enough to stand, Todoroki pulled your arms over his shoulders and piggy-backed you to the nearest hospital, where you stayed the night

The next morning, you woke up to a messy mop of red and white hair fast asleep at the edge of your hospital bed

He stirred as you ran your hand through his soft hair, his eyes tired from watching over you all night

When he realised you were awake and doing okay, he pulled you into his arms

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” he said, relief washing over him

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he whispered shakily as he embraced you tighter

Bakugo Katsuki

You gasped for air as a red flower bloomed under your costume from the deep gash in your side

“Weakling,” the villain spat, kicking you harshly in the stomach

A little blood escaped from your mouth as you coughed painfully

He raised his weapon, blade glinting menacingly in the moonlight as he prepared for the final blow

Just when you thought this might be your end, you heard your boyfriend’s voice ringing in your ears

“Y/NNNNN!!!!!”

You watched helplessly as Bakugo blasted the villain into oblivion, showing him the same amount of mercy you received - none

“DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH HER AGAIN! DIE YOU PIECE OF SCUM!” he screamed between blasts of his quirk

He attacked violently, blinded by rage and the will to protect you

He disposed of the villain quicker than he ever had before and rushed over to you, leaving your attacker groaning in pain on the concrete floor

Bakugo crouched down and held your limp body in his arms, his eyes swirling with so many emotions: anger, concern and fear

“Why did you fight him?! You know you’re not strong enough to handle villains like that yet!” he raised his voice, unable to mask how truly worried he was

Although his words stung, you knew he was right

But you couldn’t help it

“If I didn’t distract him… He would have gone after you… Idiot…” you said through laboured breaths

His eyes widened in realisation; you were trying to protect him

He couldn’t help but feel guilty as he looked at the condition you were in, scolding himself for failing to keep you safe

“It’s not your fault, Katsuki,” you reached up and caressed his face gently. “I was careless.”

He leaned into your touch, a thin film forming over his eyes

“Don’t do anything stupid like that again,” he choked out

You nodded weakly as he wrapped his arms protectively around you

Shinso Hitoshi

Your hand went up to your temple, massaging it in an attempt to reduce the incessant pounding in your skull

You and Shinso had fought long and hard, side-by-side, and were eventually able to successfully apprehend the villains

Now you were waiting for the police to show up and take them away before you called it a night

As you removed your hand from your head, you stared in shock at your fingers now coated with slick red liquid

“Man, feels great for people to finally recognise me as the good guy despite my quirk,” Shinso sighed contentedly

He smirked devilishly at the villain that lay tied up on the floor before striding back towards you

“I think we did a pretty good job, huh ba-” his smile instantly vanished as he watched the thick liquid run down the side of your face

He hadn’t noticed it before, having been so concentrated on winning the chaotic fight

“I’m fine, Toshi,” you tried to reassure him as he examined your face closely

Your words proved void as you winced when he touched your face

You knew you had made a mistake

“Toshi, wait-” you called, but he wasn’t listening

His eyes darkened as he slowly approached the culprit

“Did you do this? Did you hurt her?” his voice low and dangerous

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” the villain pleaded, trying to scramble away

Having answered his question, Shinso activated his quirk, eyes full of intent to hurt

“How dare you lay a finger on my precious Y/N,” he growled. “I’m going to make you pay.”

“Hitoshi, stop! You’re not the bad guy, remember? Don’t do it, you’re better than that! You’re better than him!” you shouted, trying to ignore the burning pain as you implored him to reconsider

He inhaled deeply, glaring daggers at the villain before deactivating his quirk

“Today must be your lucky day,” he said, face showing no emotion but venom potent in his voice

Shinso walked back and embraced you protectively as the police arrived

“Thank you,” he sighed, kissing the top of your head as he gently pressed the ice pack he retrieved from the officers to your temple

“I promise to always be the good guy, to protect you from the evils of this world,” he vowed

Keigo Takami

You and Keigo made such a perfect team, complementing each other in every way possible - even in fighting

Just as you were finishing off the last villain on your side, someone punched you from behind, sending you flying into a brick wall

The impact knocked the wind out of you and you collapsed on the cold hard ground

“Y/N!” Keigo cried

Golden orbs ablaze, he fought off the remaining villains with new found strength

One of them sneaked out of his line of sight, determined to finish you off

But Keigo noticed and flew over at the speed of light, kicking him square in the chest

He stood defensively between you and the remaining villains, wings spread out as a protective barrier to shield you from their attacks

You tried to get up, not wanting him to fight alone, but the pain was too intense and your body refused to cooperate

However, your efforts proved unnecessary as Keigo finished off the last one with a bone-crushing punch

No longer in the presence of danger, your muscles relaxed and your body slumped down onto the ground

“Y/N! Are you okay?!” he asked as he knelt beside you, panting from exhaustion

You nodded stiffly, body still weak

He scooped you up in his strong, capable arms and stood up, carrying you bridal style

He held you so closely to his chest that you could hear his rapid heartbeat

“Hold on tight, dear,” he said

He waited for your hand to clench around his jacket before taking off to the skies, flying you to the nearest medical centre

The wind tousled his blonde locks as he glanced down at you worriedly, making sure you were okay

You closed your eyes and inhaled his comforting scent, smiling softly as you rested in his arms

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velveticamoon · 3 years

Text

‘LIMERENCE IN IT’S PUREST FORM’

DAZAI OSAMU X FEM! READER

— dazai finally takes off his bandages, but with that his insecurities seem to be bubbling up to the surface, scared that his s/o’s love for him may waver because of the imprints of his past upon his skin.

WARNINGS: angst (but turns into fluff??), mentions of suicide attempts (it’s dazai folks c’mon-), self-harm mentions, implied sex, profanity

[lowercase intended]

A/N: was this fic my way of professing my love for dazai? yes no ofc not. this gets so painstakingly soft at the end even i’m not sure how tf that happened but hope y’all enjoy nonetheless (feedback and reblogs are appreciated!! have a lovely day folks)

“are you sure about this?” you asked as you held his hand gently in the palm of your hand, the two of you sat cross-legged in front of each other on your bed. he sat with his clothes off, shirt discarded somewhere along the floor of the bedroom, his trench coat neatly hung across the back of your desk chair. he looked calm, despite the storm that you knew was brewing within his mind.

he slightly chuckled, his eyes closed for a split second before reopening, allowing you the chance to bask in the pools of brown that were being illuminated by the moonlight filtered through the window, casting a shadow over his form in an ethereal manner. how he always managed to look beautiful, no matter what it may be that he was doing at that moment? you’ll never know, but you’d never pass up the opportunity to bask within his beauty.

“if i wasn’t sure, i wouldn’t be sitting here in front of you like this right now, belladonna,” he said, in a hushed manner, not wanting to break the atmosphere around the two of you. he flipped his hand that was facing upwards, gently intertwining your fingers as though he was trying to calm you down. but you knew he wasn’t trying to calm just you down, for the slight shake in his fingers gave him away despite his smile-graced face.

you sighed, shutting your eyes gently for a second, giving his hand a light squeeze before reopening them to look at him.

“it’s ok to be scared, you know?” you said, watching his expression morph from one of calm to surprise, to genuine relief. if there was someone he was willing to let his guard down with, even if it was merely one of the many walls he’s caged himself in that surrounded him in an everlasting maze; it might as well be you.

“i’m fine love, but the longer you linger on this feeble task, the more i’ll be tempted to just rip them off myself~,” he said in a teasing manner. when in reality he knew that if that was the case, he’d most definitely shrink back within himself, too scared to let you know what truly lies beneath the shield of his bandages.

he just didn’t want you to abandon him, for he believed that someone as ugly as him didn’t deserve to be cradled so gently within the innocence of your touch.

“i just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, i just.. i want you to feel safe with me,” you said, eyes looking straight into his, and he saw all the unadulterated love you were pouring into his being with merely your gaze, and he almost let his breath hitch because of how overwhelmingly in love he was with you, almost.

“i want you to do it, i trust you,” he said, his voice dripping with a sense of honesty you’d never heard spilled from his lips. that small reassurance was enough for you to finally grip the ends of the everlasting bandages layered over his skin, finally tugging at the bit that would begin the anticipated unraveling of the truth that lay on his skin.

this time, his breath did hitch, your ears caught onto it, and your eyes snapped up to meet his eyes immediately. “do you want me to stop?” you asked, concern laced within your voice, and that alone made his heart melt, the initial shock of the action fading away.

he brought his hand up to stroke your cheek with his thumb, the warmth from your skin sinking into his cool hands, a soft smile tugged at his lips.

“no, i want you to keep going,” he said, and so you did.

you slowly unraveled the rest of the slightly worn-out white bandages, to the point where the pull of gravity finished the job for you. you began gently pulling away the bandages and toss them to the side, only to look back and freeze.

scars upon scars littered his pale skin; some varying in sizes, some faded, but others still fresh. but in the end, the ones that broke your heart the most were the ones engrained on his wrists, indicating that the pain had been inflicted upon him by his own hand.

your lips parted, eyes wide, the shock was ever-so evident on your face. your fingers ghosted over his skin, as though you were afraid to touch him, which in a way, you were. not because you were disgusted, but the thought of you hurting him caused you to refrain from doing so.

dazai stayed silent while watching your movements, calculating his next movements to help stimulate you but to still manage to maintain his facade, but all his thoughts got cut off as he felt you pull him into your embrace.

“i-i’m so sorry, osa, none of- fuck- none of this should’ve happened to you,” you said. dazai could only stay silent as you held him.

dazai’s mind went blank, and he could do nothing but relish in the feeling of your arms around his being, actually getting to feel you without the bandages acting as a barrier between the two of your bodies.

“something as ugly as this shouldn’t have had to even be near your skin,” you said, but despite the sentiment that dazai knew you meant with the words, he couldn’t help the feeling of them rubbing him in the wrong way.

but he didn’t say anything, he just wrapped his arms around you too, and leaned his head atop yours, closing his eyes.

‘she thinks i’m ugly..’ the thought kept running through his head, no matter how much he tried to push it away. dazai had always been one to never let his insecurities show on the surface, but this was one of those moments where he felt as though he couldn’t possibly get more vulnerable than he already was. eventually, the thought had gnawed at him enough, and he couldn’t take it anymore.

with a sigh, he pulls away from the hug and asks “do you want me to put the bandages back on?”

you look at him confused, “does something hurt? if that’s the case, then go for it. otherwise, why?”

he shrugs, averting his gaze towards the blanket that laid beneath the two of you, and says, “i don’t know, i figured because you said that you don’t think they’re beautiful.. you didn’t want to look at them anymore.”

your heart shattered, and you couldn’t help but look at him in disbelief.

“excuse me?” you asked in an exasperated tone, you genuinely couldn’t understand where that thought came from and felt guilt pool in your chest when you realized.

‘he thinks i don’t wanna look at him anymore.. because of his scars..?’

your features immediately softened, and with the way you gazed at him with tears in your eyes, one could only describe your expression as heartbroken.

you cupped his cheek with the palm of your hand and turned his face to look at you, but his eyes remained averted.

you sighed, “osamu, look at me.” you said, voice gentle but held a sternness to it that he knew he’d be an idiot to refuse to comply with.

“what in the fucking universe gave you that idea?” you said, his eyes slightly widened, lips barely parted at the way your voice shifted.

but the thing that shocked him the most was the pure determination that was spread across your features. you gazed at him with such sincerity that he felt utterly enamored by it, almost getting lost in your eyes if it weren’t for your voice bringing him back.

“your scars, although yes, i don’t think they’re beautiful, i’d never want you to hide them from me. the only reason i don’t think of them as beautiful is because of the amount of pain i can only imagine that came with them. and it's ironic, considering i know how much you hate pain.. yet you’ve had to endure so much of it,” you let out with a bitter chuckle. “it doesn’t mean i would try to turn a blind eye and move on, as though they were never there in the first place.” you paused, forcing your throat to not close up on you as you spoke, trying your damn hardest to keep your tears at bay, to stay strong, all for him. you knew that that’s what he needed the most right now, and that became all the more prominent when you noticed the tears beginning to prick at his eyes as well.

you shut your eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to recollect your thoughts, before looking back into his eyes.

“when i told you i loved you, i meant it. every word,” you said, and his breath hitched at your words, but that didn’t stop you, no.

for nothing could stop the way your heart beats for the man in front of you. no matter how ugly the scars may be that were permanently ingrained in his skin, that wouldn’t cause you to lose sight of the true beauty that lies within his soul.

“when i told you that i love you.. i made a promise to myself. to love and cherish every part of you, the good and the bad, the quirks and the flaws, the beauty, and the pain. i promised to love all of you.. even the parts you’ve come to hate yourself.” you said slowly, with a bittersweet smile lining your features, dazai could do nothing but stare at you as you spoke your heart out to him.

“..why?” was the only word he could croak out. he internally loathed how weak and feeble he sounded in that moment, how he didn’t want it to show how much of an effect you had on him with just your mere words, but that was something that he knew he’d never be able to hide. everyone in the world knew that if there was one thing dazai would never lie about, it was his love for you.

you smiled softly, and brought your other hand up to brush the messy tuft of hair atop his head back behind his ears, and leaned your forehead against his, the one that was resting against his cheek reaching down and grabbing his hand with yours and holding it against your heart. dazai’s heart fluttered at how earnest you looked in that moment.

“because.. it’s you. it doesn’t matter to me which part of you it may be.. in the end, it’s still you, and that’s all that matters to me.” you said, and he immediately connected your lips with his, as though with the simple action he was going to be able to pour all the words he wanted to say to you at that moment into your heart and mind.

and it did. it always did.

when it came to the way he kissed you, you could always tell the meaning behind each one.

the playful kisses from when he’s running away from kunikida, always coming in the form of quick and rushed pecks, only for him to continue running right after.

tender kisses to your forehead when the two of you are in the comfort of your home where you both know that no one’s watching, the kind that makes your heart flutter in the best way.

the kisses that occur when he’s managed to come back from a dangerous mission, all in one piece and he always makes sure to come back and give you a lingering kiss, to reassure you, and him, that you’re both still there and alive.

and the soft and delicate kisses to your cheeks for when he’s feeling particularly nostalgic. whether he’s reminded of something from his past, or on the days where the remembrance of his dear friend oda becomes too much to handle.

you always knew the meaning behind dazai’s kisses, and at that moment you knew that the kiss you two shared was a symbol of both of your love being poured into one another’s souls.

the two of you parted, your foreheads resting back against each other’s, breathing slightly heavy from the kiss, but that didn’t stop dazai from murmuring the words ‘i love you’ against your lips.

and he meant it, because why lie about the one thing you’ve never been more sure about in your entire life? even if he felt as though he never deserved it in the first place.

you smiled, and he’d forever feel entranced by the way the moon now cast its glow along the features he’d always found himself to be completely infatuated with. the way your hair graced and complimented your entire being only added to that infatuation.

“i love you too, my beautiful prince.” your lips captured his once again. “let me show you just how much,” you murmured against his lips as you started to gently push him back towards the bed, trailing gentle kisses along anywhere your lips could reach.

and dazai knew, no matter how many times the world may lie to him, that if there was one thing he could always believe in, it was the love the two of you shared, for it was more than love.

»»————　　————««

dazai let his thoughts wander as the two of you laid next to each other, basking in the feeling of your naked bodies tangled up within the sheets, and he watched as you littered gentle kisses along his wrists, kissing each of his scars that your lips could reach.

his heart swirled in a sensation that he could only describe as peace. _no, _it felt like more than that.

“hey, y/n..” he quietly called out. you stopped your actions, humming in response and tilting your head up to face his, which was now staring at the ceiling of your bedroom.

“what’s a word that might describe the way i’m feeling right now?” he asked, you scooted up the bed, raising yourself onto your elbow to begin playing with his hair.

“i don’t know osa, you’re the only one that can answer that,” you said, and he hummed, shutting his eyes and reveling in the feeling of you toying with his hair. “if you want to know, there might be a word to describe how i’m feeling though?” you suggested, and he fluttered his eyelids open to look at you.

“of course, belladonna, what are you feeling?” he asked, a soft smile gracing his features.

“limerence,” you said, and he tilted his head in a questioning manner, not understanding the meaning since the word you had spoken was in english. you lightly chuckled, and said, “it’s an english word, meaning ‘to be infatuated or obsessed with another person,’ and i think it’s pretty fitting, don’t you?”

he smiled even brighter at you and pulled you closer to his body so that you were now laying on his chest.

“limerence, that's this moment.. in its purest form, no? that’s what i feel, at least,” he said, and you hummed in agreement, that’s all you felt in that moment while resting in his arms.

how beautiful is it that someone could make your heart beat so fast, while remembering the times when you didn’t want it to beat at all?

#dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #osamu dazai #dazai fluff #dazai imagines

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cedricslover · 3 years

Text

Future

Pairings: Sirius x Remus & George Weasley x Fem! Reader

Warnings: vomiting

A/N: this is a sequel of the this oneshot. Requested by @georgeweasleydumbhoe. I didn’t really proofread this so if there are any grammatical errors I’m sorry everyone.

Word Count: 2.2k

“Hello” you kissed George on the cheek and you sat beside him, it must have been two years and a half since you two saw Hogwarts. You handed him a bar of chocolate that he just accepted, he was used to this, you were just like your father, chocolate was your life.

You two just sat in the fountain in silence, you were at the Clocktower Courtyard, it was just a spur of the moment decision for you to visit Hogwarts. As you bit your chocolate you felt your left hand being slowly picked up by George, and when you felt a cold thing enveloping your ring finger your gaze went there. You gasped when you saw a ring was placed on your finger.

“Do you think you should ask first? That’s how proposing works?” you laughed at George while he just shrugged. “I don’t like that. Besides, you’re technically the one who asked me to marry you” he offered his hand and you two stood up.

“I don’t think so” your eyebrows furrowed trying to remember what he was pertaining to, he grabs your waist that made you bump into him. “I think you forgot when I officially met your parents you asked me if we would be like them, therefore you wanted me to marry you sweetheart” he grinned at your face that went from confused to ‘oh I suddenly remembered’

“Yeah, I was just seventeen that time” you rolled your eyes at him ‘I told you so’ face. “But you loved me so much that you thought of us marrying each other” he cups your face, you closed your eyes waiting for a kiss but seconds after, there was nothing.

“I’m Fred” he said that made you open your eyes, lines forming on your forehead, he wants to play this game huh?

“Oh yeah totally forgot. Just please don’t tell George hmm?” you looked concerned, trying to be in character even after his face went pale.

“Fred?” You snapped your fingers, “You won’t tell George about us, right?” Now, you gave him a soft smile while his lips twitched and his face was tight. Maybe he was thinking of how to confront Fred, or how to kill him, he was starting to plot whatever he wanted to do with his twin brother.

“No, I'm just joking. I love you” you gave him a lopsided grin and removed his arms that wrapped your waist, you ran as fast as you could to get away from Hogwarts ground so you could disapparate.

You looked back and George seemed to be catching up and was also running, trying to stop you. Your hair blew because of the wind and your laugh was the only thing you could hear.

“Oi!” George was almost catching up, but luckily you arrived at your destination. You turned to him and saw he was a few feet away from you, “Bye-bye Georgie! See you when I see you” you waved, blew a kiss, and winked before disapparating, leaving his panting face behind.

“Y/N!” you jumped as soon as you apparate in front of your house at Grimmauld Place, you looked back and saw Sirius with his eyes wide open, his wand was out that made you look around.

“I thought you were someone!” he added when he finally breathed fine. You just laughed and was about to give him a hug when someone apparated in front of the both of you. Sirius immediately pulled you to his back and he drew his wand again.

“Where do you think you’re going, young man?” Sirius shouted at George who was about to knock on the door of your house, he wasn’t aware that you and Sirius were just behind him. George instantly turned around and mischievously smiled when he saw Sirius.

“How are you pops” he hugs Sirius while you look at him like he just did something unbelievable. “What the fuck?” you mouthed to him as he was embracing your father. His smile was still there and he showed his left hand, gesturing the ring on your finger. “Goodie points” he mouthed back to you.

“I’m doing good son, how ‘bout you?” Sirius talked with his amused voice after they broke their hug. “Been a long time since I saw you” he added and opened the door. George winked at you before he followed Sirius, leaving you there dumbfounded.

‘Yeah, I just got engaged? Me?’

You shake your head and entered the house too.

“Hey dad” you saw your other dad, Remus, sitting on the couch. “Hello princess. How was your day?” he puts down the book that he was reading, ‘Good. Just got engaged to the love of my life, nothing interesting’ the voice in the back of your head talked. “Just the usual. Well, we did visit Hogwarts earlier.” you kissed his cheek and sat beside him.

“Are you tired?” he asks as you leaned your head to his shoulder and closed your eyes. “Yeah” you nodded. You two just sat there, in peace, well not really as you two heard the loud laughs of Sirius and George. They weren’t in the living room and you bet they were at the kitchen, drinking that fine wine Sirius has.

You felt Remus’ hand shift as he opens his book again. Maybe it was for 10 minutes, you just relaxed on the shoulder of your father, not until he begins to notice.

“Princess?” he softly called you, seeing if you were asleep or not. You hummed as a response. Now feeling a little sleepy. “Is that an engagement ring I see?” he muttered that made your eyes shot open, the sleepiness you felt a second ago? Gone. The relaxation you felt earlier? Gone.

Your breath hitched and you sat straight. “Uhm” your eyes cannot even focus in a certain direction.

Your dad chuckled when he realized that you were nervous. “You two have been dating for what now? Four years? It’s not a shock for him to ask for your hand in marriage. Although I would be really sad because you will eventually leave us” he smiles at you, that smile that states that he is happy for you and he wants you to know that you would always be their little girl, no matter how old you are.

“Dad…” you pouted and hugged him, “Congratulations daughter” he whispered.

While you had that heartfelt conversation with your other dad, little did you know George was wooing your other dad, Sirius. And well after a little while of “You better take care of her” “Are you financially stable?” “Do you love her unconditionally” “I’m going to kill you myself if she cries because of you, remember that time I almost did when you two had a huge argument?” and many more. He eventually said congratulations and gave George permission to marry you.

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

“Merlin” you breathed in and out, you were about to walk the aisle, a garden wedding, just like how you dreamt. It was perfect. But you can’t understand why were you nervous, it’s not like George is going to run away because he realized you were the wrong woman she wanted to spend a lifetime.

“Angel, you okay?” Sirius taps your arm that was linked to him. “Yeah, just a lil bit nervous” you inhaled deeply before you smiled nervously at your father.

“Don’t we all experience wedding jitters” he said and slightly laugh as he reminisced his wedding day.

“Sirius, you’re not helping” Remus butted in, his arm was also linked to your other arm. You were at their middle, “Yeah dad, you’re really not” you both looked at him. He just shrugged and acted to zip his mouth.

“It’s going to be fine Y/N.” Remus assures you one last time before your cue to walk.

And there you felt blissful, everything was perfect. As you saw your future husband, standing beside his twin brother, both of them teary-eyed that made you almost laughed, you saw the end and another beginning. An end for individuality and the begging of a life together with him, the guy that made you laugh even at the darkest days, the guy that stayed with you, loved you, took care of you. The guy you are going to spend your forever with.

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

“Shit” you groaned before you threw up again, this was the second day that instead of having a peaceful morning, you were greeted by your own vomit and the toilet.

“We should take you to the hospital” George declared as he was woken up by your swearing and throwing up, you glanced at him, he was at the doorstep of the bathroom, just wearing a pajama, nothing on his upper body, and if you were just feeling well you might have drooled and ask him for a little breakfast in bed and he is the breakfast.

You didn’t want to go to the hospital, but you knew this isn’t a normal thing, and you’re afraid that you might be sick, but you shouldn’t just ignore it.

“Yeah, I’ll just get ready” you replied and washed your face, “You’re fine, it just might be some little nausea” George’s voice went soft as he walked up to you and hugged you from the back.

“But what if it’s not? You know I’ve been feeling sick the whole week and-” you failed to finish what you were saying when you felt another round of vomiting.

“What the bloody hell was that smell? Did you bought a new perfume?” you flushed your vomit and headed to the sink again where George was leaning to.

“What? Move” you raised an eyebrow to his stupid face who was now smiling, he moves a little to give you space. “Go away George, you smell bad” you told him as you were brushing your teeth.

“Love, what day it is?” he asks you once you finished brushing your teeth. “I don’t know, check the calendar” you said and went out of the bathroom while he followed you.

“It’s 25” he told you as you were choosing what you would wear. “Okay” you replied and shuffled the jumpers. “Love, it’s 25” he repeated it, now he was looking at you, “And? What about 25? I don’t remember the month being December” you turned to him and now your hand was on your hip.

“You’re late” he says it like it was something you should know-well it really should be. Your eyes went wide as you slowly registered, you were so busy that you forgot your own period.

You were about to ask him that what is the problem if you’re late when you realized-again, that you have morning sickness, you were becoming moodier, you pee more than usual, your breast feeling swollen, and you hated George’s smell, which you loved, always.

Without even thinking twice you got the pregnancy test and ran to the bathroom and locked it.

“That’s not fair!” George calls you out but that didn’t remove the nervousness you are feeling. You might become a mother, you will experience what your parents had gone through, you knew this was going to happen eventually, you were ready, you both were, but you didn’t expect it to be today.

“Honey,” you called George who was lying on the bed, waiting for you. You stayed there for almost 30 minutes, you didn’t know why but you just had to think before you took the test.

“I’m pregnant” you uttered, you still can’t believe it. It was just like yesterday when you met at Diagon Alley, it was just like a second ago when he asked you out, and now, you’re pregnant, with his child.

He jumped out of bed smiling widely and hugged you, he picked you up and started spinning around.

“YES! I’M GOING TO BE A FATHER!” he repeatedly said, he finally puts you down and started punching the air.

“And about what you said earlier? It shouldn’t be “I’m pregnant” love” he cups your face and pressed his lips onto yours, the kiss went long that it made your arms wrap around his neck and his hands linger on your back and waist.

“We’re pregnant. You’re not alone, we’re both in this. Together” he smiled and kissed your forehead. “We’re both going to take care of them” he caressed your belly.

“I love you” you look at his eyes, those brown captivating eyes that you could stare at for centuries. “I love you too” he tucked few strands of hair behind your ears. As he does that, you saw a glimpse of George, the younger George, maybe it was your hallucination, but you suddenly saw yourself, with him, back at Hogwarts. The two of you, sharing your first kiss.

“You alright?” the tall Gryffindor ginger asked you after he pulled his face away from yours. “Never better” you replied and grabbed his face, now you were the one initiating the kiss. Because you know, this man would be the one you will spend your life with, and you just didn’t know, you saw.

“Oh, I never told you huh?” You asked George as you two walked the dark hallways, hand in hand. “Told me what?” he asks, you didn’t bother to look at him, it would be useless, the only one that assured you that he was there was his hand, his body, close to you.

“I can see the future” you admitted, now having a sly smile. “Really? And what did you saw for OUR future?” his voice sounded interested and teasing. “It’s a secret” you replied and a chuckle left your mouth. “But I promise you. It’s a good one” he bit your lower lip, remembering what you just foresaw. This man is your future.

#remus x sirius #dad remus #dad Sirius #george fabian weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley fic #wolfstar

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realcube · 3 years

Text

HQ BOYS REACT TO YOU FAKE CRYING

characters ♡ yaku, kenma, kayegama & iwaizumi

content warning ♡ fake crying, mentions of murder, hurt/comfort, fluff & timeskip! iwaizumi (no mature themes, just domesticity)

credit ♡ thank you to 🍦anon for this request

morinosuke yaku

♡ why did you need to need to practise in the bedroom?? in his bedroom, no less

♡ your show was quickly approaching and you recalled the scene where you were to burst out into tears on stage, and you hadn’t yet rehearsed how you were going to do that

♡ honestly, you were under the assumtion that yaku would have no problem with you practising while in his bedroom bc he has ran lines with you in the past and this was hardly any different

♡ so sat, thinking about the most horrible, morbid, grotesque things you possible could, all while keeping your eyes wide open and not blinking so soon enough, the tears started rolling

♡ proud of yourself, you smirked before burying your face into your hands; now to add sobs!

♡ it started out with mere snivels but then as you got more confident, it built up to full on bawls which were loud enough to gain yaku’s attention from the kitchen

♡ he was quick to rush over to his bedroom, his soul audibly leaving his body when he saw your upset weeping figure on the bed

♡ he basically pounced on you and engulfed you with his embrace, ‘dear! what’s wrong? are you alright? who hurt you?!’ the questions were fast falling off his tongue as cradled your head, leaving no room for you to speak without being muffled by his chest or arms

♡ and when he noticed that you were trying to speak, he simply hushed you, ‘shh! it’s okay, dearest.’ and continued to whisper ‘comforting’ stuff like that in your ear

♡ he thought he was helping but really he was just preventing you from getting you point across

♡ eventually, you managed to escape his steel grip and gasp, ‘yaku! i’m fine! look — no tears!” you gestured to you damp cheek, “i was just practising for my role! i’m not actually sad. though, it’s cute that you care so mu--”

♡ as soon as yaku heard the word ‘practising’ he immediately recalled how you mention you have a sad scene where you need to cry and his natural reflex was to lean backwards, grab a massive teddy bear that sat behind him which he had won at a carnival for you but you insisted that he keep it bc you didn’t want to carry it home

♡ ...and he threw it straight at you, causing you to fall backwards and burst out laughing at how you were currently being straddled by a big teddy bear

♡ ‘(y/n)! i thought you were hurt! you can’t just fake cry without telling me first- i was so worried! like i thought it was real and--’ this went on for an elongated amount of time, yaku ranting while you added a faint ‘sorry!’ whenever you saw the opportunity

♡ eventually, he stopped only to take a deep breath, visibly calming doing as his chest heaved, ‘alright. what’s done is done; it’s fine. you worried me though, (y/n). i thought you were being for real, what then?’

♡ you nodded, smiling at his softened expression as your lips twisted into a smirk at his final comment. cocking a brow, you purred, ‘so...you think i’m a good actor? tha--’

♡ pow! another plushie to the face! K.O!

kenma kuzome

♡ as a joke, you dabbed water under your eyes a few times so you could send your friend a snap of you ‘crying’ and ofc kenma had to walk in at exactly the wrong time

♡ you were over at his house, chilling on his couch while he was upstairs talking to kuroo over the phone— he said he’d only be a moment but almost half an hour had passed and he still showed no sign of coming back downstairs, though you couldn’t blame him as kuroo does have a tendency to be overly descriptive when spilling tea

♡ anyway, as soon as you had sent your snap, you placed your phone down and scanned the room in search of some tissues to wipe you eyes with, when kenma barged in

♡ ‘hey, (y/n). i’m sorry that took so lo--’ when his gaze shifted from his phone onto you, sitting on the couch with tears streaming down your cheeks, he immediately cut himself off

♡ at first, you were frozen, simply staring at each other; as if he had just walked in on you committing a violent act of homicide in his living room

♡ honestly you were too stunned to move at first but if you could, you’d probably say something along the lines of ‘this isn’t what it looks like’ but before you could even open your mouth, kenma edged towards you until he was able to outstretch his arms and wrap you in his warm embrace

♡ with your cheek pressed against his warm hoodie, basking in an uncommon blissful silence, you postponed your explanation until you were finished enjoyed how his nimble fingers caressed your back

♡ you hummed, your lips curling a smile at how comfortable you felt in his arms and how nice his hoodie smelt, since it usually reeked of an unholy mixture of body spray and monster energy

♡ he planted a kiss upon your head, murmuring into your hair, ‘baby, what’s wrong?’

♡ you were quick to swipe away your ‘tears’ with the back of your hand, ‘i’m fine, don’t worry.” you chirped, beaming at him to reinforce this point, ‘it’s just water, for a silly video i sent to my friends.’

♡ kenma blinked rapidly, staring down at your seemingly genuine smile

♡ honestly, you expected him to tease you or be irritated that you made him reveal a hidden soft side of himself for no reason, since he’s usually quite private with his emotions

♡ but instead, the corners of his lips just lifted into a slight smile as pushed your head back against his chest, then resting his head upon yours, ‘oh, that’s cool.’ he breathed, his warm, calming voice causing your eyelids to become heavy — that and the fact you had went on a run not too long ago

♡ kenma felt your eyes flutter shut against his chest so he slowly leaned backwards, holding you against his hoodie as he laid down, allowing himself to doze off with you snuggled up on his heaving torso

hajime iwaizumi

♡ you were making iwaizumi dinner, cutting onions and cooking curry

♡ so it was not surprising when tears started brimmed at your eyes, eventually slipping from your lashline and trickling down the soft skin of your cheeks, leaving you to blink rapidly to lubricate your burning eyes

♡ iwaizumi had just came out the shower, he had dried off but when he came downstairs and peered into the kitchen, he was wearing just a towel which was draped around his hips, ‘mm, something smells good. whatcha cookin’, baby?’

♡ he didn’t plan on staying downstairs for long, which is why he didn’t throw on a shirt; all he wanted to do was get to the bottom of what that magnificent aroma was that he smelled from upstairs, then once he figured it out, he’d go back upstairs, get changed, then head back down for dinner

♡ but his plan was cut short when he noticed crystalline tears pouring from your red, puffy eyes

♡ without thinking or taking into consideration why your eyes are red, his immediate reaction was to dash over to your side and slip his arms around your waist, puling you in so that one of your hands had no choice but to rest on his back while the other continued to stir the pot

♡ noticing that your watery eyes were still fixated on the curry, he took your chin inbtween his fingers and forced you to cook at him, ‘why’s my angel crying? hm?’ he cooed, features painted with genuine worry and concern

♡ you lifted a brow, stifling a chuckle at how silly he was being, ‘what do you mean?’

♡ before you could process anything else, iwaizumi bought you in for a passionate kiss with the his hand pressing against the small of your back, only pulling away so he could rest his head on your shoulder and hum into your ear, ‘you can tell me anything, angel, so what’s on your mind?’

♡ you bottom lip quivered at his intimate action — you might just start crying for real

♡ biting your bottom lip, you resisted your tears and forced out a laugh, ‘what’s on my mind? well,’ you started, momentarily letting go of the ladle so you could hug back, ‘i have to make dinner for my himbo husband, but the onions and spices are burning my eyes. pray for me, iwa.’

♡ it took him a moment to register what you just said. he’d been in the kitchen many times so by now he was basically immune to the way onions and spices affect the eyes, so he completely forgot that stuff like that happens. he honestly, wholeheartedly thought that you were crying real tears of sadness while making dinner

♡ he impulsively pushed you away, crossing his arms over his chest and his initial kind expression lowering into a scowl, ‘who are you calling a himbo?! i just forgot that some people have weak-ass eyes. bye.’ he spat, clearly trying his best not to laugh as he stormed off to his room, keeping a firm grip on his towel the whole time

♡ don’t worry, though. he was back ten minutes later — fully clothed — to eat dinner with you :))

♡ but don’t mention it ever again or else he’ll blush and tell you it ever happened

tobio kageyama

♡ you were scrolling on your fyp and found a video of a person explaining how to cry on command and you didn’t believe it’d actually work so you tried it

♡ as it turns out, it does work and now you are sitting on your bed with tear stained cheeks and a dry throat, completely zoned out until kageyama came marching into your bedroom

♡ it was in that moment that you recalled that you had invited him over for a movie night and you had left your front door unlocked for him, hence he must’ve invited himself in

♡ ‘sorry i’m late, but i brought doritos.’ he spun on heels after closing the door, doritos in hand but not for long because as soon as he noticed your cheek glistening the lamplight, he instantly dropped them to rush over to you

♡ ‘eh? (y/n)? are you crying?’ he asked with a harsh voice, which wouldn’t help if you really were crying. instinctively, he reached out for your hand and began pressing kisses to the back of it

♡ he wasn’t really too sure on what exactly he could do or say to comfort you, so he recollected on the time you tried to cheer him up after he lost a big game. you lay beside him on his bed, humming a distant tune that matched the one playing in his ear from his earbuds. one hand threading through his hair while the other cupped his cheek so you could press occasional, soft kisses on his cheek while he set to himself. it was calming, and it definitely worked in making him feel better. usually, it’d take him months to recover after a devastating loss like that, but with you by his side and giving him support, he was back to his normal self in a couple weeks

♡ well, as normal as it gets for kageyama

♡ you gently shook your head, admiring his adorable actions and allowing his to continue as you used your spare hand to wipe away your artificial tears

♡ ‘oh, sweetie, i love you so much.’ you mused, thinking up a way to start your story without sounding foolish

♡ but perhaps you shouldn’t have began your explanation with a term of endearment as his impulse with to promptly throw his arms around you, holding onto your torso tightly

♡ you were taken back for moment, wheezing slightly as kageyama squeezed the air out of you but finally able to speak once he relaxed his arms, ‘tobio! nothing’s wrong, don’t worry. i was just testing to see if i could fake cry or not. i’m not actually crying.’

♡ kageyama’s eyes widened and he paled

♡ you weren’t actually in need of comfort? then why did he just get all soft? for nothing?

♡ ‘no.’ was his simple response which he punctuated with another kiss on the back of your hand

♡ you couldn’t help but giggle, taking advantage of this opperuntiy to reach out and ruffle his hair, ‘yes. i’m seriously okay. i’m happy, actually, because i get to spend my evening watching movies with you!’

♡ surprisngly, he didn’t glare at you for messing up his hair — since it was already untidy — and just took a seat beside you, keeping ahold of your hand as if it was a fragile gem, ‘i don’t believe you.’

♡ you laughed, realising that he was clearly making excuses for openly showing affection and being soft so you just let him, hopping to your feet and tugging your hand away from him so you could grab the doritos he dropped, ‘whatever you say, tobio.’

♡ he pouted but it was only brief as he was soon able to take your hand once more, ‘yeah..’ he grunted, averting his eyes so you didn’t see the blush creeping onto his cheeks, ‘whatever, just put on the stupid movie...stupid (y/n)...i love you..’

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littlemisslipbalm · 3 years

Text

I live in the neighbourhood Part 2

Part 2 is hereeeeee YAY! There will be a part 3 eventually :) I hope you enjoy and as well lmk you loved it with reblogs and messages, they truly make my day and y’know do it for other writers too, trust me we all love it. this fucking gif still gets me,,, but anyway there is so much i want to talk about in this part its killing me so plssss message me about it aghghghggh idk what else to say

um this part is filled with: yn not knowing cars, harry being a dork, almost kisses and kisses , but daddy i love him, the crown, gardening, and so much more mwah

Read Part 1

Word Count: 10.8k | Warnings: minor anxiety attack, swearing?, drinking, think that’s it (some more taylor swift)

“You want me to what?!” She feels herself all but scream.

He sighs in exasperation and ruffles his freshly cut curls. He can’t help the smile that grows shortly after his sigh. Y/N’s reaction on the other end of the line has sent him into a fit of giggles that he has to suppress quickly when she sends a warning ‘Harry’.

“It’s simple, love,” He twists to lay on his stomach. “I left you the spare to my place. Just go in, find my car keys and then drive to the airport and snap me up!”

She sighs now over the phone as she contemplates whether she could truly go into Harry’s home and then drive his surely expensive car to the airport and get him. It was something a friend would do for another friend, especially one who was a neighbour and especially a neighbour who had nothing better to do on a Friday night.

“Alright,” she says finally, “I’ll be there on Friday, text me the flight number.”

She grins when she hears a little “woo” from Harry. Even if he’s smiling half a world away it still made her happy to know it was because of her.

They had mostly texted each other randomly over the past three weeks while Harry had been away in California. She told him about her job, which he insisted was endlessly interesting and she countered that he found it interesting because it was new to him and eventually the grandeur would wear off. She loved her job, of course, it was for a public relations company that dealt with various London based companies and she was on multiple accounts with various clients ranging from tech companies to music artists. But she didn’t think it was as interesting as Harry made it out to be.

Harry told her about the filming of the movie and about everyone on set. He told her how he bought everyone on the crew his new ‘Treat People With Kindness’ sweatshirts and joked how he’d have to get her one as well to match her other one. She noted that one of Harry’s love languages was very obviously gift giving. He was so generous and she really admired that from him considering how successful he was. Her father was an accountant so she knew how rich people could be about their money sometimes, hiding it away in different entities just so their money can make money instead of spending it on things that matter.

He said everyone was nice and amazing overall, he gushed about people’s performances, but he’d always end with how much he missed London. He liked LA, he would assure her, but then he’d say how it wasn’t home-y at all. London was home to him. She would smile whenever he said that because she felt that way too, even though she wasn’t originally from the city, it just felt like home to her.

One night, he even confided in her his loneliness while on set. He wondered that maybe it was because he had no real roots in LA, nothing to go home to - no home to go to. She tried to reassure him that he wasn’t alone and all he had to do was ask and any person from the movie would love to spend time with him. He nodded along to her words, but they both knew he was being overly kind when he said everyone was nice. Not everyone in Hollywood was nice and certainly not everyone in Hollywood had substance. He searched for a month and seldom found time where he was truly relaxed with others and enjoying himself. More than ever he was excited to return home to London to say the least.

“Harry!”

She jumped out of her seat and into his arms, her cheek brushing his as she leaned in. He stood just on the sidewalk by his car that she had gingerly driven into the city and to the airport at 9pm on a Friday night in November.

The car was a dark blue vintage convertible, Mercedes-Benz, she was pretty sure but she really was completely clueless when it came to cars. Harry had taken her call right before his flight took off and walked her through finding the car. He had two garages and one garage had two cars and the other had only one. She had gone on her own and found the first garage with the two cars and seen a lime green tiny little vintage convertible and a cherry red vintage non-convertible and became distraught that there was no navy car. When Harry picked up the phone he had been greeted with some yelling about how he must be colorblind if he thought one of these cars was navy and he had laughed heartily before explaining that there was another garage. She had huffed and traipsed through his house until she came upon the other garage. When she saw the blue car she was equally annoyed and elated. “Thank fucking god,” she muttered over the line and Harry had laughed, but found himself cut off when the line went dead.

He smiled and groaned slightly at her tight embrace. He was happy to be back in England after a month away and he was happy to have her in his arms even if he didn’t know whether he should admit that.

“It’s good to see you,” he musters and he feels her smile into his neck. The only fabric between her face and him being his thin waffle knit long sleeve. He could feel her breath softly against him. He pets at the back of her hair, “Thank you for coming to get me, I know it might have been a bit much to ask.”

“Don’t mention it,” she pulls back from his embrace and smiles happily up at him, “What are friends for?”

She brushes her hands at his shoulders and then moves to start putting his luggage in his car. He had two suitcases and a backpack with him, but he had told her he had more stuff sent over that would just be sent simply to his home. She had texted back a shocked face emoji when he said that, unaware that he traveled with that much stuff.

“Right,” Harry affirms, twitching into action at the word ‘friends’. He felt like they had gotten so close over the last month even though they had only talked over the phone for that time. Seeing her in person now felt like she had been his friend for years.

Once in the car, Y/N settles back in the driver’s seat, not wanting Harry to have to drive after the horrible flight from California to London. A direct flight was just about as bad as layovers in Ohio or Utah. She wasn’t sure what it was like in First Class, but she still knew it was rough being on an aircraft for 10 plus hours.

Harry closes his eyes beside her after a moment. He had watched her settle in the car with his head against the headrest, his eyes drooping as they regarded her movements. She was so sweet to him and he nodded when she asked if he wanted his seat warmer on.

“You’re too good to me, pet,” he whispers, head lulling once again.

She glances at him swiftly as she pulls out of the loading area. He smiled contentedly before drifting off to sleep.

She turned the music low and silently drove them back to Sherwood Avenue. When she pulled the car into Harry’s garage, she sat there for a few moments as Harry softly breathed beside her. She had hoped he’d wake up upon their arrival so she wouldn’t have to wake him, but alas he was sound asleep.

She watched him, he was so quiet in this moment. So unlike how he normally was with her, talking about everything and nothing almost constantly. She liked that side of him. But she had to admit something about him this peaceful was just as entrancing.

The flutter of his eyelids brought her out of her reverie and she was grateful for the dim lighting in the garage because when Harry’s eyes focused on her she was blushing.

He quirks a brow and his smirk begins to settle back on his lips. “Home,” he raspily mumbles and begins to shift in his sea.

She nods and smiles softly, shaking off all the thoughts had been going through her mind.

“We’re back,” she affirms. “Let’s get you inside, sleepy boy.”

Harry shakes off his slumber with a rub at his right eye and a run through his hair. He climbs out of the car. She throws him the keys at his silent instruction of an extended hand and an eyebrow raise. She knows she read him correctly when he smiles sweetly and travels to the boot of his car to begin unloading the suitcases he was in charge of.

She follows him and rounds the end of the car, preparing to take some of his luggage.

“You don’t need to carry anything, it’s fine, dove.”

His voice is extra gravelly still and she would’ve complained about the new nicknames if he hadn’t sounded so hot. She didn’t think she had any feelings for Harry other than friendship, she was almost sure of it. Sure he was attractive, but ever since she actually got to know him she hadn’t thought of him in a way that could be considered more than friendship. He made her blush, but he was just inherently smooth. It wasn’t because he was specifically flirting with her.

Except right now, the whole reuniting of it all paired with his voice and his sleepy eyes that she imagined likely looked similar to his bedroom eyes. She was having a hard time seeing that line of friendship.

“No!” She protested, tugging the backpack he was attempting to carry along with the two suitcases from him.

He sighs and sets down one of the cases, “Y/N, you’ve already been too good to me by picking me up. I’m not making you do any more physical labor with any of my heavy shit.”

“It can’t be that heavy,” she pulls the backpack on and she resists the slight step back her body wants to take from the weight of the backpack.

“Give it back,” he says, sounding concerned for her.

“It’s fine, I’ve got it, Har,” she smiles and gives a little twirl in his large garage, the backpack making her look a bit smaller.

He twists his lips trying to ward off a smile. He wasn’t annoyed, moreso he was delighted by her antics. He wanted to scoop her up in his arms and kiss her.

“Oh you got it? Do you?” His amusement betrays his British accent, making him sound like he did at 19. He places the other case on the ground and walks quickly to stand right in front of her.

She squeals as he gets so close, his nose just about brushes hers. He’s smiling sinisterly as he takes hold of the straps of the backpack and tries to tug them off of her. Yet, she holds on tight to the front of them, laughing happily at their silliness and causing her nose to brush against his.

Their eyes are strong on each other, watching their every move. And they settle a little, laughter dying out, breathing evening out. Her hands are still strong on the front straps of the backpack, while Harry’s are strong on the top of her shoulders, wrapped around the backpack’s straps as well.

He licks his lips, feeling especially interested in seeing how hers finally taste. Right as he is about to lean in, brush his lips against hers, she pulls from his grasp, swinging away from him and dashing to the door that leads to the rest of his house.

“C’mon, it’s freezing out here!” She twists the nob of the door and beckons him.

He huffs, shaking himself out of the daydream he had almost made reality. He wanted to kick himself, he felt like a kid. He needed to get a grip.

“I’m right behind ya’,” he called, nodding his head to tell her to go before him.

Her smile sears in his mind like the shine on a brand new coin as she flicks on the light in the entryway. The light comes flooding in the doorway and around her. For that quick moment only she is illuminated in his eyes. She shines for him and he wonders if it’s possible to drown in light.

Next Thursday

“Crown came out on Sunday!” Harry said as he opened the door, knowing it was Y/N who had knocked.

“Had no clue from the ominous text you sent, ‘come over, i promise popcorn *crown emoji*’,” she laughs and enters the house and holds out a bag of chocolate chips.

“I already have it queued up and popcorn’s popping!” He says happily and takes the chocolate chips to put in little dishes.

They walk into the kitchen and she’s still in awe of his home. It was clean and sleek but with all the hominess still easily found if you looked a little closer. Tea cloths hanging over the ovens’ handles that had interlocking G’s - a facet of Gucci she could only assume. Various paintings of different scenes, one a Japanese store front and another a Blue Jay perched easily on a thin branch.

There were unique painted tiles that he must use for hot plates and a single fancy floral mug tucked next to an espresso machine and just little things that she was keen on exploring at some point, but Harry caught her attention.

“Adult slushie?” He inquires with an arched brow.

“Does the slushie perform exotic dances?” She asks jokingly.

Harry rolls his eyes and chuckles, “Sometimes those that drink it do.”

She reddens at his implication. He then looks at her seriously and she regards him with utter delight. Her eyes twinkle as he moves about his home with ease.

“If you make it,” she confirms, in awe that he would make cocktails on this random occasion.

He smiles at her and begins his final tasks, checking to make sure the popcorn doesn’t burn and grabs the ingredients he needs to make the drink he was thinking of.

She stands beside him, eyes constantly wondering between his moving physique and his home.

“Did you know I know Emma?” Harry asks, looking up from the blender. She notices how his neck muscles twist and strain as he gazes at her. He was wearing a white t-shirt with ‘But Daddy I Love Him’ in a red vintage font and a black cardigan with different colorful objects on it, mostly flowers, it said ‘Spaceboy’ on the back and she had smiled when she saw it when he led her to the kitchen.

She hums, her gaze focused on him. His green eyes flicker across her face and down her body, simply taking into account her outfit. Pink sweatpants and a long sleeve with a drawing of a cute little clown holding two guns up at the air. While it might have sounded like a weird thing to have printed on a shirt, he found it fun, he was always appreciative of different clothing. Of course she had a gun-slinging clown shirt that she managed to make sweet, he thought.

“Fascinating connections of the rich and famous,” she muses.

“Yeah, well, Susan - Harry Lambert,” he corrects his friend’s nickname, catching himself, “he styles us both so we’ve met a few times. She’s really lovely.”

“That’s pretty epic,” she says and wanders closer to Harry, wanting a better look at his progress on the drinks.

Her hand rests on the countertop next to the two glasses he intends to place the ‘slushies’ into. The liquor he used just said “Blue” and she wondered what blue would taste like as he pours the glasses now. The consistency of them being relatively slushie like, she was impressed.

Her smile gives it away and Harry eyes her, “What’re you smiling at?”

“I’m admiring your bartending skills,” she meets his eyes and she realizes how rather close they’ve gotten as he leans slightly over her and the countertop.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he says playfully, “I take my mixology very seriously so I don’t want any praise until you’ve actually tried it.”

He holds the glass up to her and instead of grabbing it from him, she simply guides it to her lips. Her hand lightly grasping at the soft fabric of his cardigan. She parts her lips and takes a small sip, maintaining eye contact with Harry.

When the icey liquid passes her lips, her eyes flutter shut at the sweetness of the drink, it was like candy but with a light kick at the end from the alcohol. She loved it and when she opened her eyes again she took the drink from Harry’s strong hand and took another sip.

“This is dangerously good,” she finally says and Harry grins.

“Fantastic! Now we’re ready to start the show,” and he leads them into his living room that is just as big or bigger than his kitchen. A large screen television and a turquoise velvet couch are the main attractions of the room, at least what Y/N is focused on. There’s more art and posters up in this room, a lovely round coffee table and gorgeous vintage rug.

“Wait, Susan?” she circles back to Harry’s earlier comment about Emma Corin and their shared stylist.

Harry smiles and sits next to her comfortably, placing the drinks on coasters and the other various items on the coffee table.

“It’s my nickname for Harry since we’re both...Harry. Just felt silly calling each other Harry and Sue and Susan, they just fit so well.”

She nods, “I see.” But she didn’t really get it. She’d never had a friend where they only called each other a different name from their own, maybe a nickname that she would occasionally call them, but never one so ingrained that she would call them it when referring to them to someone else who surely didn’t know them and wouldn’t know them by the different name. Not that she really knew who Harry Lambert was in the first place, but it still made more sense than Susan. She shook it off just as another quirk of Harry being who he was.

They settle in for the show and they love talking through it, which Y/N was happy that Harry liked to talk during shows as well. She hated when people shushed her during movies and shows when she had something to say. They commented on the fashion and how wild some of the stuff was. Thankfully, as well, even Harry thought some of the things the royals did were absurdly lavish.

“He is so hot,” she finally says when Prince Charles is on the screen for another time and she can’t keep it in anymore, “How could they cast him for Prince Charles, they are far too kind.”

“Josh?” Harry questions, glancing over at his friend curled up on the couch next to him. She had her feet tucked beneath her legs and had her body on its side while staring at the television.

“Don’t tell me you know him too?” She says, taking her focus off the TV to look at Harry, a chocolate chip landing in her mouth once she finished talking.

Their blue slushies had been finished and the popcorn was half eaten. She was pretty sure they were on the second episode already.

He laughs, “No, but Emma says he’s very nice...He is rather attractive.”

That makes her smile, the both of them finding an actor attractive. It felt like Harry was like one of her friends from home, chatting about boys, something she really didn’t do anymore.

“Maybe you can introduce us,” she laughs, her head nudging at Harry’s shoulder beside her.

She doesn’t notice Harry’s lack of mirth at her joke as she turns her attention back to the screen, re-immersing herself in the plot. He twitches slightly uncomfortably at the thought of him introducing her to someone she might be interested in romantically.

“Why not,” he says half-heartedly and he hopes she doesn’t notice his tone.

The next day was Friday and she had the day off as per usual.

After three episodes of the Crown, she and Harry had decided to call it a night. He had offered that she could spend the night so she didn’t have to walk home after she had refused to let him walk her across the street. However, she declined, saying she didn’t like leaving Rori alone at night, especially since he was still getting used to the new house. Harry had understood but she could tell he was saddened by her leaving.

She had decided to plant some flowers in her front yard, hoping to liven it up. She had bought some plants at the local flower shop, pansies and aster thinking that purple and gold would look lovely together. She planned to set to work with little experience, but plenty of intention. Rori was outside with her for moral support, prancing through the growing grass and nibbling at the shrubs, more like a bunny than a dog.

Her mother had gifted her gardening tools a long time ago and their entire family had laughed because they knew Y/N didn’t have a green anything, most definitely not a green thumb. Today she had grabbed them and the plants and had placed it all in front of her planters. Then she sat there and went on her phone, scrolling through it mindlessly. She had no idea what she was doing or where to start so getting distracted was easy.

“Need any help?”

Her head turns and she slides away her phone with a sigh, knowing exactly who had just kindly asked to lend a hand.

Harry squints down at her and in this moment she is especially aware of just how tall Harry actually is. Normally she notices his height and thinks ‘yeah he’s tall’, but right now he towers over her. His hair is catching the surprising fall sun and causing glints of gold to radiate off him. His eyes are especially light right now and she feels oddly unnerved by their color, the hazy mint of some kind of predator. He is such a presence and she thought she had finally gotten used to him being in her life, but in this moment she is taken aback. She shakes her head after a moment too long of staring up at him.

“Hi,” she breathes and stands up from her sitting position. “I was just starting to do some planting, and I don’t know if you can tell but I have no gardening skills whatsoever.”

She gestures to her set up and Harry turns his gaze from her to the plants and smiles. He had been coming back from his morning jog and instead of entering his gate, he walked through hers. He looks at everything and reaches down to pet Rori when he comes running up happily to his friend.

“Well, it looks like a good start. Aster is an interesting thing to plant…” He kneels down to start digging up the soil in the planters.

She kneels beside him and watches him attentively. “I wanted chrysanthemums, they’re one of my favorites. But they were out, so it will have to do.”

“It will do perfectly,” he looks up at her from his work, “you wouldn’t have picked it if it wasn’t amazing.”

She makes a small smile at his statement, but doesn’t respond. Instead, she takes up mimicking his actions with the soil.

“Do you garden a lot?” Her voice is soft, not wanting to disturb the quiet that had fallen over them.

“Not much anymore, I don’t really have the time, but I used to with my mum.”

She hums and scratches behind Rori’s ears absentmindedly when he looks curiously at what they’re doing.

They work silently, only talking intermittently. At one point, she grabs them glasses of water from the kitchen, mostly for Harry because he’s actually working up a sweat planting her garden. Harry hums random songs that are on his mind and she wishes he would sing for her, but she would never dare ask him to.

They talk about the Crown and how much they loved all the clothes in it last night and where the plot is going since they know the true history it’s based on. Harry offers British insight into the Royals that she had never thought about and they even venture into British politics which she admits she never really thought about since usually the US politics is far more in the spotlight.

He talks about his views on politics and she gives hers, even stranger though they even venture further into usually rocky territory and discuss religion. She is very interested by what Harry has to say about religion, his answers are both completely expected and unexpected. Something she’s noticed about Harry with her is that she always seems to be surprised by what he says, but it still manages to make complete sense after a moment.

“I’m going back to LA tomorrow,” Harry muses as he regards one of the pansies, like he’s almost staring it straight in the eye.

“Oh?” She turns to face him.

She stops her aimless moving about of the dirt. She had mostly been playing with the dirt while he did the majority of the work. She just didn’t enjoy it. Harry had definitely made the activity palatable. She’d have to tell him she would have likely given up an hour ago had he not been there.

He sighs and sets the pansy into the hole in the soil he had made for it. “More shooting for the movie, I’ll be gone for another month.”

“Wow…I think saying goodbye to you is just going to get harder and harder.” She looks away, her arms crossing over herself instinctively when the wind blows just a little too hard.

Harry looks at her now and sees her curling in on herself and he wants to hug her, but they weren’t like that. Instead he places a hand on her shoulder, rubbing it slowly up and down trying to offer her some warmth.

“I think we’ve made enough progress today. It’s starting to get cold, hm?”

She looks at him now and nods, her hand moving up and capturing his in hers. Like they had when Harry walked her home after his game, their fingers twist and turn around each other. Their eyes shying between each other’s faces and interlocked hands.

She springs to her feet after a couple quiet minutes of dodging eye contact and simply enjoying the feel of one another against each other.

“I should thank you for all this help,” she starts and Harry gets up to stand, beginning to say there is no need for a thank you for what he did.

“No, no.” She stops him, “I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without your help and I took up all of your day, practically.” She takes hold of his hands now to examine the dirt that has managed to cover them since he was convinced that she should wear the gloves her mother gave her. “You should come over tonight and I’ll cook you dinner. I’m a much better cook than I am a gardener.”

Harry looks at her quietly, his eyes blinking slowly. Like he’s basking in the small movements she’s making on his hands. She traces the little cross that straddles his thumb and pointer finger on his left hand.

“I’ll make sure to bring dessert then.” He smiles and tilts his head to the right and a little forward towards her. She gazes up at him softly. “I might even bring something extra special.”

She raises her brows, “A special treat from Harry Styles himself. I’ll be anxiously awaiting your return then.” She taunts him only slightly because what he had said just about brought her to her knees. The way his smile had shifted to a smirk and how his voice has grown quiet and low, it just felt very intimate.

Harry returns at half past six, as requested by Y/N. He was freshly showered and cologned and she had never found a man more attractive than in that moment. Before he came over he told her he was dressing nice and she had no idea what that might mean with him. But when she saw him, she understood.

What it meant was a crisp blue big collared Gucci dress shirt unbuttoned almost half way down his chest revealing his ever present cross and fitted high waisted brown trousers. His fresh haircut meant for the 50’s slicked back with pieces beginning to fall about just perfectly. No belt, no cufflinks, and no suit coat. Instead of a coat he had on a jacket that was similar to her giraffe jacket he had borrowed all those days ago. His own was comfortably settled over his shoulders and it was obviously made of fabrics far nicer than hers and wasn’t fraying in any place.

He posed in her doorway and even gave a twirl at which time Y/N laughed happily. It looked amazing on him, she had no idea how her jacket had been the thing that started this all.

“How do you like it?” He asks seriously. “Does it look alright?”

“It looks perfect on you, Har. Is that the extra special surprise?”

He smirks smugly at her compliment and comes into the home, greeting Rori quickly before following her back into the kitchen where she was still cooking.

“Oh no,” he says and places a bag filled with a bottle of red wine and a pint of her favorite ice cream on the counter (and the surprise tucked neatly at the bottom of the bag).

She looks at him quizzically as he begins to take the items out of the bag.

“There’s one last thing in there,” he points to the bag casually, while putting the ice cream in her freezer. “Do ya’ mind grabbing it for me, dove?”

She rolls her eyes and reaches into the bag. Her hand retrieves a magazine from the bottom of the bag and when she flips it over to the front side, a gasp escaped her lips.

“Harry! Oh my god!” Her hand goes to her mouth as she takes in the cover.

A US Vogue magazine with Harry on the front of it. He’s blowing up a balloon in the photo and he looks beautiful. His skin is flawless and his hair is luscious and flowing a little longer than he kept it now due to the movie.

“I’m a Vogue cover model now, eh?” He asks, looking on apprehensively as she begins to gingerly flick her fingers through the magazine’s pages.

“This is the surprise?” She looks up from the page with him and Gemma sitting side by side.

Harry nods and watches her absentmindedly trace his face on the page.

“Do you like the pictures?” His voice is soft and almost timid?

“Of course!” She exclaims, not wanting to let any doubts pass through Harry’s mind. “Is this what you were doing up in Scotland a couple months ago, right before we became friends and you said you wanted to surprise me with something top secret?”

He nods again, his grin creeping onto his face as she stares at the photo of him in the cover photo’s outfit where you can see the entire dress.

“I want that dress...did they let you keep it?” She continues flicking through the pages lightly and glancing at Harry across from her. The dinner forgotten for the moment.

“It’s Gucci, I didn’t keep it, but I’m sure I could call Susan and get you one ordered,” he replies easily, leaning over the counter to watch the magazine.

She scoffs, “I can’t afford a Gucci gown for no reason...AND before you try to say you’ll pay for it, I would never accept such a gift and I am so for real about that, Harry.”

He waves his hands out in front of him as if to say he’d never suggest such a thing even though they both knew he’d buy it for her in a heartbeat.

“These pants…” she mutters, eyes now fixed on the trousers Harry is wearing in a specific photo in the magazine. They’re tan with a darker stripe on the side of them but the most intriguing part is all of the different drawings on it that seemed to be all related to Harry.

“They’re fab, no?” He quirks a brow at her, his face still holding an apprehensive grin like she’ll take back her praise at a moment’s notice.

“So fab,” she echoes. “Are they bespoke?” Her question has a hint of sarcasm dripping behind it, knowing by now Harry was notorious for custom-made items.

“What gave it away?” He wiggles his brows.

Her eyes flicker to meet his and she sees they’ve ended up face to face once again. It seemed to happen too often with one another. She settles the magazine down and stands up straight. She couldn’t allow herself to indulge in the proximity of his inviting lips. The proximity of his warmth that had seemed to seep into all facets of her life in the last two months or so. It was wonderful and warm, but it wasn’t hers. She shared him with so many other people and she couldn’t get carried away with him because tomorrow he’d be gone.

“That really is amazing Harry. I’m very proud of you, but if you don’t want a burnt dinner, I need to start paying attention to what I’m cooking.�� She turns away from him and she quickly takes a palm to swipe beneath her eye, collecting the stray liquid that somehow fell from her eye. Funny thing, she wasn’t cooking with onions.

Harry doesn’t notice the movement, simply sighing that she turned from him yet again. He ran a hand through his hair, further tousling the once coiffed hairdo and then twisted his ‘H’ ring around his finger before settling on a bar stool to flip through the magazine and watch her cook.

“When does the magazine come out?” She calls as she stirs the sauce that she’d be pouring over their spaghetti squash once it was finished baking.

“Next week, They’ll release the story online and then I’ll be hitting shelves,” he muses, reading a different story in the magazine, not particularly interesting in himself.

“I’m sure you’ll be flying off those shelves the second you’re placed down.” She laughs at her joke and Harry rubs his lips with his thumb and forefinger thoughtfully.

“You think so?” His eyes sparkle with mischief at his question.

She turns her head, an open-mouthed grin already on her face, a slight scoff falling from her mouth, “Oh c’mon, you know so. I think you’re one of the most loved men in the world and people fall more and more in love each year.” She almost added ‘and I don’t blame them’ but she refrained thankfully.

“Most loved...I like that. Such an interesting way to put it.”

“I mean, you’ve been famous for what? Ten years now? That’s a long time and I don’t think you’re going anywhere...At this point it’s not about how big your celebrity star is, it’s your level of belovedness and I think that level is quite high.” She comments on something about Harry they never talked too much of. Sometimes they talked about him knowing famous people and about the work he had to fly off to do, but never the specific fame of it all. She didn’t really think Harry liked to talk about.

She didn’t have much of an opinion on it, it didn’t matter to her whether Harry was a famous multi-talented big-C celebrity or he was a nobody with a random job. As long as he was still her neighbour she would never complain. He made her so happy and maybe if he hadn’t been famous he wouldn’t be the way that he was so she would never say it was a nuisance. It just came along with him.

“Well...like I said, it’s a lovely way to put it. So, thank you for that.”

He stands up now, forgetting the magazine and rounding the counter to find a cork for the wine seeing that Y/N was doing the final touches on their food.

They eat dinner across from each other at her modest-sized dinner table. Harry slips his giraffe coat off and rolls up his sleeves to allow him to “really dig in” to the dinner she made for them. Maybe some footsy occurs beneath the table but neither of them would ever admit to it so did it really happen? Just feet moving randomly and happening to rub against one another every so often.

After dinner and a bottle of wine, the two of them join Rori in the living room where he’s curled up on one of the throw pillows. Y/N runs back to the kitchen to scoop them ice cream and whips of two Moscow Mules to go with it because she had brought up how when she usually goes home for the holidays, her and her sister always have a competition of who can make the most unique but best tasting Moscow Mule. Harry had said how he’d love to be there one day for that and she had blushed and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear from the comment before taking a large gulp of wine. Since that wasn’t possible right now, her tipsy mind had decided that the next best thing was to make some basic ones right now.

“I bring a Mule and an ice cream,” she says airly, playing like a royal herself, as she holds them out to Harry.

He laughs softly and accepts them graciously, doing a slight head bow to her. Before he can say anything she’s a flash of plaid and red as she runs back for her own ice cream and drink. He had been complimenting her plaid pants with golden bees on them all night and asked her where she got them, teasing that they must be Gucci, but all she would say is that he couldn’t have them to go make a copy of this time.

She re-enters the room and dims the lights with her hip. Then she settles beside him, clinking her glass with him and they both take their first sip.

“Hmmm,” Harry hums after he tastes the cocktail, “I like it.”

“Moscow Mules are a favorite with my family,” she muses, flicking through the television to get them set up to watch the Crown again.

“Maybe I should meet them and thank them for bestowing such a good favorite unto their daughter?” Harry asks and she laughs and rolls her eyes. Questions of meeting family when they were just friends didn’t need a response. Right?

They spoon ice cream into their mouths as the show begins and they murmur comments to one another throughout the episode. They idly pet Rori sometimes as he moves randomly around the room trying to find the place he likes most. Once Harry’s done with his ice cream, Rori thinks his chest is the best place to be and Y/N can’t help but snap a quick photo of it.

“Not quite as handsome without the dress, but it’ll do,” she sighs and snuggles into Harry’s side. Her hand reaches up to scratch at Rori which then leaves her arm wrapped around Harry when her dog inexplicably leaves to go to bed a few minutes later.

He was an awfully good wingman Harry would easily admit at a much later date.

They stay cuddled casually with one another for the entirety of two more episodes and they realize they’re more than halfway done with the season. A yawn from Y/N cues to Harry that he should suggest they pause for the night. She agrees easily, her head nuzzling into his strong shoulder for a little while.

Harry takes the remote from her and turns off the television before flicking on the side table turquoise glass-blown lamp.

“Can I put some music on?” He whispers in her ear, already knowing the answer, but waiting for her to nod her head. She obliges and he slowly slides her onto the couch beneath them. Then he begins padding around her house to find her speaker.

“Arrow Through Me” by Harry’s all time role model Paul McCartney’s second band Wings begins to play through the speakers. What a fucking moutful.

She perks up at the music and sits up straighter on her couch. Her smile grows as Harry shakes his hips a little and moves to the beat of the song as he makes his way back over to the couch. He opens his mouth to say something, but instead of words ringing loud through the room, it's the sound of a phone buzzing from somewhere between a few cushions on the couch

“Oh shit...shit, shit, shit,” she awakens herself out of her daze with her profanity. Attempting to find her phone rather haphazardly, she stumbles around the couch.

It’s Harry who fishes the phone from beneath a throw pillow and hands it over to his friend. She smiles thankfully, her hair a little messy and her eyes slightly crazed, before picking up the phone without even looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?...Cate?...Oh, hey….No, I didn’t look at the ID...figured it was you or someone in the states...no one in the UK would call me right now...It’s almost midnight here, you asshole,” she pauses and points at the phone and mouths “it’s Cate” like Harry hadn’t been sitting there listening to the entire conversation.

“I’m just hanging out watching the new season of Crown...with Harry...yeah, that Harry,” she flits her eyes to Harry for a second and rolls her eyes sarcastically.

“Talk to him? I mean.. I can put you on speaker, I guess?” She looks at Harry and he nods his head eagerly.

She rejoins him on the couch and places the phone on the coffee table, tapping on the speaker.

“You’re on speaker now.”

“Hi Harry!” Cate crackles over the line, happily, likely just awoken from her slumber in California.

“Hullo, love,” he says sweetly, his voice beginning to slow even more as the night wears on.

Y/N rolls her eyes at both of her friends, knowing Harry was laying it on thick and that Cate would squeal over this exchange for the next three weeks.

“What are you two lovebirds up to?” She inquires sweetly and Harry makes an arched brow at Y/N and she only supplies a shaken head and a shoulder shrug.

“Cate….” Y/N drags out, annoyed with her for both saying that and for calling just as she was planning on going to sleep.

“Sorry! Friends, I know. Even though staying in on a Friday night with just the two of you doesn’t sound very friendly…” She begins to ramble on, but Y/N offers another warning ‘Cate’. Cate takes the hint and finishes her teasing. “Anyways…”

Harry and Y/N are completely red, sitting next to one another but grateful for the minimal lighting.

“I was just calling to check-in. Do you know what you’re doing for the holidays yet? I know you don’t do thanksgiving anymore - which was yesterday by the way - since you’re all British now.”

Y/N scoffs at her close friend and Harry nudges her side about the British thing.

“I don’t know yet, I have to see my work schedule and all that. I don’t know if I want to fly across the world this year though…” She trails off, kind of quieting in hope that Cate will miss it.

Harry regards the conversation, casually interested, yet intrigued since he had been meaning to ask the exact same question.

Cate hums, obviously unhappy with the response. “Alright. And you Harry? Do you usually go home to your family for the holidays?”

“You don’t need to answer that,” Y/N interjects.

Harry places a hand on her thigh to let her know that it’s completely fine. An easy smile on his lips as he speaks to the phone. Y/N places her hand over Harry’s on instinct.

“Usually, yeah. This year we were thinking of all going out to my place in Italy so it’s kind of up in the air right now. When I get back from LA, I’ll probably finalize it.”

“LA you said? We should get together while you’re here.”

“Cate. He’s there on business.”

“I know...but still. It’s fine,” Cate laughs lightly, knowing she was pushing her luck with this conversation as it was. “Anyways, darling, I just wanted to tell you I miss you and that Harry’s not allowed to replace me as your best friend. Y’hear that Mr. Styles?”

“I sure do, love.”

Everyone laughs whole heartedly and Harry and Y/N are still playing with each other’s fingers on top of her thigh.

Y/N thinks that’s enough of the conference call with Harry and Cate so she snatches the phone with her free hand and raises it back to her ear.

“Alright, Cate, I think we’re going to head to bed...not...not like that...I hate you...Now I definitely don’t want to come home...I’m kidding, I’ll think about it...Love you, too….Yeah I’ll tell him...Have a nice day…”

She throws the phone on the coffee table again and falls back on the couch. Her head rolls to rest on Harry’s broad shoulder and she sighs softly. Harry moves his head to rest over hers, chuckling softly. His sweet breaths of joy are why he then receives a soft slap on his far arm, only making him laugh more.

“Shut up,” her muffled voice comes out from against his blue shirt that is far more crumpled than it was when he came over hours ago.

“She’s so funny,” he laughs again, nosing his face into her hair.

“She tries to get away with way too much,” she sighs and Harry just pats at her side, smiling and not caring at all about the things Cate was hinting at because he wanted what she was alluding to to be reality.

“Y’know I have a question because she said I can’t be your best friend and that’s fine with me, but I wanted to tell you something, love.”

Her head raises to look Harry in the eye, slightly confused by his preface.

“You’re my best friend,” he says earnestly in the dark living room, “Is that allowed?”

His accent was thick with anticipation, the night wearing on his vocal cords. It was so quiet in the room, Harry was sure she just heard him swallow his own saliva - he had paused the music after a minute into the call with Cate. He blinks twice while waiting for any response, he stares straight at her.

Her eyes barely shine through the darkness as she looks back at him. His question rattled through her mind. ‘Is it allowed’ for him to think of her as his best friend. It just didn’t make complete sense to her and she wasn’t sure if she should vocalize that doubt. But as his eyes begin to mist like a forest on a cold morning she knows she has to say something.

Her eyelids shut as she lets out a heavy breath, the processing of what Harry’s just said finishes.

“It’s allowed...Do you mean it?”

“Course I mean it,” his voice cracks, an incredulous laugh leaving his lips.

She straightens up, moving slightly from his warm embrace. He becomes fidgety without her tucked in his side. His fingers itch without her arm to caress. His lips move between his teeth without her hair to ghost over.

When she remains silent, Harry decides to continue.

“I remember the first time I saw you,” he croaks and she furrows her brow at this. “It was the day you moved in...Had just come home from my morning run and you’d pulled up in your moving van. I thought you had on the coolest pair of jeans I’d ever seen…” He pauses. He takes a deep breath and her eyes are watering now.

“I also thought you were one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen and I knew I had to know you.”

“Why’d it’d take you so long?” Is all she asks as she tries to will away the water welling in her eyes.

Harry rolls his lips together and breathlessly laughs, head tilted up to the sky. “Never knew how to approach ya’. Then you bumped into me, felt like it was the universe kicking me for being so damn slow.”

She bites her lip, a tear rolling down her cheek finally. “Oh, Harry.”

Then there it is. What the last few months had been leading up to. The moment where they no longer were able to wonder what the other would taste like. No more guessing. No more wondering. It was concrete. It was her lips pressed to Harry’s. She laughed lightly after a moment, pressing closer to him. His lips felt like the softest pillow she could ever lay on and she never wanted to get out of bed.

A small breath came out of his nose as he pressed eagerly back against her. She tasted like ginger and chocolate and maybe cherry - her chapstick possibly. He sucked at her lips, never wanting the taste or the feeling to go away. She was so soft and smooth and she responded quickly to his push.

Her hands wrapped around the back of his neck and into his hair as he pulled her closer by her waist. They were attempting to inhale one another, taking inventory of every possible crevice of each other they hadn’t touched before.

Harry’s lips part slightly as he swipes his tongue across her bottom lip. She giggles, tugging him over her and opening up her mouth easily. He pushes forward, a small sound leaving his mouth as he shifts them into a lying position on the couch, her legs encircling his waist.

A hand runs along her jaw, down her neck, across her collarbone and then down her arm. It lands so that he can intertwine their hands together. He feels her smile beneath him and he smiles back despite their lips never leaving one another. His other hand caresses her cheek as he kisses her.

Eventually, his lips roam around her face and on her neck aways, but mostly he focuses on her lips. Both of them are more than happy with this decision as they continue on for what feels like hours. Yet still those hours don’t feel long enough.

She pulls at a button on his shirt at one point, but Harry pulls back.

“I think we should call it a night.”

“Really?” She looks at him with confusion and a swirl of hurt in her eyes.

“It’s late, love, and… we just, I don’t want to rush anything.”

“Alright,” she nods, sitting up and running a finger down the side of his face.

“I think I’ve been doing best friends wrong all this time.” she muses, tracing lines on Harry’s neck now. Her eyes focused on her work.

“And why’s that?” Harry asks, his own hands running up and down her back.

“I’ve never snogged a best friend for hours on end.” She laughs and Harry can’t help his snort.

He moves his head to rest on her shoulder, almost like a hug, but not quite. She doesn’t move away, simply turns her head to continue watching her hands trace him, her work now moving to the back of his neck and his upper back and shoulders.

He hums a little bit, a love song he had played for himself the last few weeks when he tried to fall asleep and all that he could think of was her. She smiles softly and places a kiss on his shoulder.

“Let’s go to bed, darling.”

Harry nods, wrapping his arms around Y/N and carrying her to her room.

The next morning she finds herself wrapped happily in a set of strong, tattooed arms. She sighs content, snuggling closer to the warm naked chest in front of her.

“G’morning,” the man beneath her whispers. His voice a low rumbling rasp, she feels the vibrations below her.

“Morning,” she mumbles, nuzzling her nose into the crevice of his sternum, just above the butterfly that lives on his chest.

He hums at the feeling, slightly shivering from the cold, but pulls her closer nonetheless. She caresses his side with a light touch in response. Her fingers trace unknown patterns down his ribcage and then dip to the ferns peeking from his boxers. He shifts slightly when her fingers travel there. A place no one but him had touched in a long time.

“’ve got a plane to catch,” he says sadly and he brushes a hair from her face as she turns to look at his face.

His neck strains to regard her and he has a bit of a double chin from this angle, but she couldn’t care less. He looked so beautiful staring down at her. She never wanted to look away or lose this image. His eyelashes lightly caressed the skin just below his eyes everytime he blinked. It was quiet enough that if she listened close she could hear each flutter. The eyes behind them were even better, a dark rim of green encases emerald irises that hold black and gold specs, stars and stories swirl hidden beneath it all. She wants to drown in it.

He winks at her as she stares, growing disarmed with her intense gaze on him for so long. Her calming caress keeps him grounded though and she laughs at the wink, relieving him of her scrutiny that he didn’t understand was awe.

She groans, unhappy, “Miss it.”

“I can’t,” he drags out, not wanting to leave either.

“Can’t convince you to stay, no?” She rolls on top of him, pushing her chest against him and giving him doe eyes.

His strong arms encircle her waist as her legs straddle him. She arches more into him and leans down to kiss in between his pecs. Her eyes never leave his face, watching his reaction. It’s his turn to groan with a loud sigh to match. He throws his head back and steals himself to say,

“Not even a chance.”

She remembers when he had begged her to come with him and she smiles at his recycling over her response.

“Fair enough,” she says and rolls off of him. His head falls to the side to watch her get up and begin her day. He takes a deep breath, wishing he didn’t have to leave.

Harry heads back to his place to get ready for his departure. Before he leaves he joins Y/N and Rori for an early tea at the café. They get their drinks to go and walk back to Harry’s together. When they arrive, Harry’s car is waiting and she feels a dryness in her throat. He looks down at Rori and gives him a quick pet. He turns to her and she smiles weakly.

Harry’s hand encircles her wrist, caressing her softly. He leans down quickly and pecks her lips. It feels like he was barely there and then he was gone. It was like a butterfly had landed on her lips and wrist and then it had vanished.

Off his sleek black car goes, soon out of sight and headed for the airport. And there she is, left on Sherwood Avenue. Her fingers move to dance over her lips and then over her jaw and down her neck. Every place his touch had burned her in the past 24 hours. And now he was gone, across the world.

No talk of what came next had been spoken between them. She wasn’t sure what they were and didn’t know if she could handle that talk over the phone. She walked home after a few minutes of standing with her dog in front of Harry’s now vacant home. She sat silently in her house for half of the day.

At dusk, she decides on a run, maybe it will get her mind off her neighbour. She had sat in the same spot for too long. The same spot they had kissed each other last night. Maybe a change of scenery would stop the movie reel of last night that kept playing over and over in her mind.

She runs down the street, specifically keeping her eyes off the lovely home across from her, and keeps running down different streets, past the café, down to the park, and then finally reaches a stream that is past some brush and trees at the end of the park. There’s a bench there that seems like a nice place to rest.

Her music has been playing the entire time, the playlist she chose was inundated with Taylor Swift - but not chosen for that specific reason. Each song thankfully not from 1989. At least not until she’s running through the park. “You are in love” begins to play, it’s soft Twin Peaks-esque opening is familiar to her. It fits the cool rush of wind against her skin and the leaves that have turned brown as fall has worn on. She’d listened to it a thousand times. Sometimes thinking about the man who inspired the song, but all those times were long before she had ever met him.

Now that she knew him, she almost skipped it, but shook her head to herself feeling silly for feeling uncomfortable listening to a song she liked. Her run turns into a walk as she reaches the stream. The chorus begins. Taylor softly serenades about being in love. About a man in love with a woman. About Harry being in love with her.

She takes a deep breath, hearing the words a little different this time. Taylor sings “You kiss on sidewalks” and this morning flashes in her mind. She looks out at the stream, the water rushing along as she stands there, still catching her breath. Then the next part of the song reaches into her heart and twists it with all its might.

“One night he wakes, strange look on his face, pauses, then says, ‘you’re my best friend’.”

And that’s it. She takes out her headphones, her breath no longer capable of being caught. She breathes heavier and heavier. Her throat was as tight and dry as when Harry had left this morning. Possibly even worse. She can’t even swallow this time. Her phone and headphones are discarded on the bench as she raises her hands to her face and begins to pace beside the stream. Her eyes eventually match the body of water next to her and she feels a sob wrack through her. She couldn’t breath, her running and panic had brought her asthma to the forefront and she was hyperventilating, gasping for air. She was drowning and no one was there to help her.

Tears stream down her face and she moves her hands to her thighs as she tries to calm down, not knowing how she reached this level of distraughtness. Deep breaths she reminds herself. She licks her lips and shuts her eyes. “Just ground yourself,” she whispers.

When she’s finally gotten ahold of herself she sits at the bench and stares into the stream. A distorted version of herself seems to stare back. It’s constantly moving, swirling, and changing and as she watches that version of herself she wants to scream. Her tears had faded awhile ago, but the fear was still there.

The last few months had been so easy, had been so perfect. Going over to each other’s houses and being with each other. But if she ignored history wasn’t she destined to repeat it? When she heard the confessional of the man Taylor had loved in her song, when he had told her she was his best friend which meant he was in love, she felt hurt. She knew how their story ended. Taylor and Harry’s. He left. He left her when she needed him and today, Y/N realized it’s what he does. It wasn’t his fault, she didn’t blame him for leaving today. It was his job, not another woman. But holy fuck when she heard Taylor sing those lyrics, it felt like she had been hit on the head out of nowhere. Reminded that she had been living in a fairytale for the last few months, swept up in a fantasy that she wasn’t meant to be a part of.

She ran a hand over her face, rubbing slightly at her cheek. The same cheek Harry had caressed last night and she sighed. She stared off into the trees and then shook her head, standing up and heading back home. Alone.

Harry calls her when he arrives at LAX. She doesn’t pick up. He calls the next day. She doesn’t pick up. He texts and receives no response for three days.

She thought she didn't know what she would say.

“I listened to too much of your ex’s music and now I’m insecure.”

“I feel like you’re gonna leave me someday so I’m too afraid to do anything with you.”

“Is it alright if we’re just friends, I don’t think my heart could take the pain of falling in love with you and then losing you.”

“You can’t promise me forever and after just one kiss I knew I couldn’t do anything less.”

“The price of loving you is far too high.”

She types them all out and then deletes them every time. Too scared. Instead:

“I’m busy with work, I don’t know when I won’t be. Let’s just plan on meeting up when you’re home.”

Harry nods when he sees the text on Friday. He tells her to take care and make sure she gets enough rest. He wipes away the stray tear that decided to escape his eyes after reading her response. He exhales and looks to the sky, wondering what could have possibly happened since he had left. He sends little emojis over the next few weeks that she puts a heart on, but she doesn’t communicate otherwise.

Harry doesn’t ask her to pick him up. Instead he sends flowers to her house the Thursday before he returns. They make her smile and she wonders if maybe she can move past every red flag she feels like she sees. After a month away, she can’t lie and say she’s not excited for Harry to return. She missed his warm skin and his soft hair. She missed everything and the flowers had only made her wish it had been Harry on her doorstep a couple days early.

He gets home on the 12th and he’s at her door after throwing his things in his entryway.

She opens the door and bites her lip as she takes in who it is.

Harry says her name breathlessly and she melts. Her doubts fly out the window for the moment and all she wants are his lips on hers.

She falls into him and his lips are on hers. They twist into one another and their lips move softly yet urgently against one another. Not sure how to explain the last four weeks, they both attempt to say everything in that kiss. All her pain and confusion press into Harry’s lip with each breath. All his sadness and longing tug at her lips as he sucks her bottom lip into his mouth and hungers for more.

He pulls back and stares straight into her eyes, “Come to Italy with me for the holidays.”

She tilts her head confused, trying to catch her own breath.

“I’m not sure what happened while I was gone, love. But I know I missed you and I can’t go another month without you. Just say yes and we’ll take it from there...Please,” he begs, voice cracking as he holds her cheek.

She wets her lips and opens them to speak, but her voice betrays her. Instead she just nods and squeaks out a noise of approval. Too elated to speak, they press their lips back together and she pulls Harry into her home.

December was far too cold to snog out in the freezing night air.

#harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles one shot #neighbor!harry #I live in the neighbourhood #part 2 #part 3 to come #pls rb and message me ily #surprisingly somewhat proofread

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bluerose5 · 3 years

Text

Honesty is Key

Pairing: Scott Ryder/Jaal Ama Darav

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,487

Tags: Mass Effect: Andromeda, Pre-Relationship, Slight Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Communication, Loyalty Mission, Post-Jaal Ama Darav: Flesh and Blood, Emotional Hurt and Comfort

Scott couldn't take it.

He had been so close to losing him. His stomach churned at the thought alone. His hands shook, yet no amount of deep breaths or calming thoughts helped soothe his nerves.

Adrenaline coursed through him, showing no sign of letting up.

Scott had barely stepped foot on the Tempest before he was already rushing off to the bathrooms in quick, long strides. The others called out to him, but he ignored them. Their words were garbled, unintelligible. It was like listening to someone from underwater.

Thankfully, no one was in the restroom.

Using the codes that Kallo had given him, he overrode the Tempest's protocols and locked the doors behind him. Bile started to rise in the back of his throat, leaving a bitter taste that lingered on the back of his tongue.

Taking his helmet off, Scott tossed it aside. It hit the floor and cracked, but he couldn't find it in himself to care right now.

He had been so close to losing him.

Both of his knees buckled, and Scott barely had enough time to brace himself against the sink before they collapsed entirely. Running shaky fingers through his hair, he glanced up and met his eyes in the mirror. They were red, swollen, and puffy. Tears had started to stream down his cheeks without Scott even noticing.

His face was as pale as a ghost, and his stomach continued to churn until finally he gagged.

All he could see was that bullet slicing through Jaal's cheek, over and over again. If the shot had been aimed slightly more to Akksul's right, then he—

Before Scott could even finish that thought, he was stumbling through the bathroom. He fell to his knees in front of the toilet, and his stomach heaved.

By the time his stomach was empty, his throat burned, and his vision blurred.

He couldn't stop trembling from head to toe, feeling as if he was coming apart at the seams.

"Pathfinder," SAM said through their private channel, "your vitals are consistent with those associated with extreme distress. Should I alert Dr. T'Perro?"

"I—" Scott managed to scrape himself off the floor, careful of the shards scattered around from his helmet's shattered facepiece. "No, I'll be fine."

Eventually.

Scott rinsed his mouth out at the sink, nose wrinkled in disgust.

Cleaning up as much as he could, Scott figured he could come back later and finish up.

Of course, the second he stepped out the door, he bumped into Jaal's chest.

Well, that dashed any hopes he had of making a quick escape to his quarters. Not that he should have expected any different. Jaal wasn't the type to avoid an issue when he could confront it instead.

At the sight of Scott's blotchy, tear-stained face, Jaal frowned.

"You are upset," he stated.

"Yeah, no shit."

It took Scott a whole minute to realize that he had said that aloud instead of keeping it to himself. Jaal blinked owlishly at him in shock, but Scott averted his gaze, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, face flushed with warmth compared to mere moments prior.

Jaal regarded him in confusion.

"Why are you apologizing for speaking your mind?" he asked, utterly baffled.

Right. The angara value openness and honesty.

Scott could work with that.

Hopefully.

"Mind joining me in my quarters?" Scott asked, eyeing the empty corridor with suspicion. Knowing his crew, he might not have them in his direct line of sight at the moment, but that didn't mean that they weren't listening in somehow. Call him paranoid, but Scott wasn't taking any chances. "I want to talk about what just happened out there."

At that, Jaal shifted uncertainly, wringing his hands together.

"Okay," he whispered, "but are you certain that we have to have this discussion alone?"

Scott narrowed his eyes at him, arms crossed over his chest.

"I would prefer to be alone, yes."

"You're upset with me," Jaal noted, but was he right?

Yes, no, maybe. Scott didn't know, but he wasn't going to have this conversation out in the open.

"Come on," Scott grumbled, dragging Jaal into his quarters alongside him. Once they were inside, Scott sealed the doors. "In you go."

"Scott—"

"Not. A. Word." Jaal snapped his mouth shut, and Scott jabbed a finger into his chest. "You are so—" Reckless, stupid, careless... There was so much he wanted to say, but it was near impossible to settle on one word alone. "—infuriating!"

It was nowhere near enough, but it would have to do for the moment.

Without thinking, Scott kicked at a nearby box. He didn't notice until it was too late that his body was thrumming with biotic energy, his frame enveloped in a bluish light. He sent the box flying into a nearby wall, where it shattered into little pieces.

Scott watched it fall apart, but he didn't feel much satisfaction from the act. Instead, he felt numb. Numb and drained.

Turning back to Jaal, Scott let his biotics fizzle out.

His face crumpled.

"I could have lost you," Scott whispered distantly, his voice thick with exhaustion. "I almost lost you."

Repeating it didn't help any. Reality refused to set in entirely. He still struggled to comprehend everything that happened at the Forge.

In the blink of an eye, Jaal had Scott wrapped up in his arms. Scott choked on a sob, burying his face into the crook of Jaal's neck.

He took a deep breath, Jaal's sweet, warm scent a constant reminder that he was still there. That he was alive.

"I don't have many people left that I care about," Scott whispered, finally giving voice to those feelings that had been bottled up for so long. "My mom and dad are both gone. There's no telling when Sara will wake up." He swallowed thickly past the lump in his throat. "You and the crew... You're all that I have left. My friends, my family, my colleagues."

He pulled away, just enough to stare pointedly into Jaal's bright blue eyes.

"And so much more," he breathed.

Carefully, he traced his fingers along the underside of Jaal's latest wound. At first, he flinched, but Jaal grabbed Scott’s hand and held it there before he could pull away.

If anything, he leaned even further into his touch, and Scott melted.

"I'm sorry to make you worry so," Jaal said, "but I'm grateful that you trusted me enough to refrain from bringing harm to Akksul. I know that it had to be a difficult decision, but acting against him would have only strengthened the Roekaar's cause. You did the right thing."

"Perhaps," Scott grunted, "but that doesn't make me feel any less like shit."

Jaal chuckled.

Tightening his arms around him, his rofjinn draped over Scott’s shoulders like a warm blanket, safe and secure.

Scott snuggled in close.

"Doing the right thing won't always feel fulfilling," Jaal said, "but thank you. Not only for that."

Scott furrowed his brow.

"What else do you have to thank me for?"

Jaal beamed.

Truth be told, he had no right to look that happy, not when Scott was mad at him. Sort of.

"For being honest with me." He shrugged. "I've noticed that you've been opening up more and more lately, at least compared to when we first met. It means a lot."

"Well, uh..." Scott trailed off, clearing his throat. "No problem. My family were never really the touchy-feely types. It's definitely new territory for me."

"Yet you take to it so well. Even when you're enraged, you're radiant."

Scott sputtered, then unraveled himself from Jaal's embrace, keeping a hold on his hand.

"Alright, on that note, it's time to go."

As he pulled Jaal along, Jaal grumbled in protest.

"Hey!" They exited the room together. "Where are we going?"

"To have Lexi properly clean and disinfect your wound before I kiss you, and neither of us want that." Before Jaal could get too hurt by that statement, Scott clarified. "Not until I've showered and brushed my teeth, at least. I'm a mess."

"Oh!" Understanding dawned on Jaal, but he decided to take a risk. "And after that? Will you kiss me then?"

Of course, about half the crew decided then —of all times— to emerge from the Crew Quarters, all of them stopping short when they heard Jaal's exclamation.

They tossed Scott teasing glances.

"Yeah, Scott," Vetra called out, "when are you going to give Jaal a kiss?"

"It would be rude not to," Peebee said.

With his cheeks lit aflame, Scott gaped like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth as he struggled for words.

Why did he suddenly feel like it should be against the rules to bully the Pathfinder?!

Eventually, he said, "I should go."

And he hurried back to his quarters, tripping on his feet as their laughter chased him off.

#mass effect #mass effect andromeda #scott ryder #jaal ama darav #rydaal #scott x jaal #mrydaal #my writing #my fanfic #not so subtle nod to shepard at the end 😂#sorry in advance if tumblr scrambles the order again

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sleepysnk · 3 years

Note

OKAY i’m screaming but what abt like eren being a football (doesn’t have to be football) player and he’s just watching the reader (doesn’t have to be a cheerleader) cheer him and that motivates him and celebrate his win after

aw! i absolutely love this request! jock Eren is definitely fun to write for, i hope you enjoy! thank you for requesting 💗 sorry again if this was ass.

Touchdowns and Kisses

Pairings: Eren Jaeger x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

The atmosphere at Trost University was exciting and full of anticipation.

It was the rival game against Marley University, most of the student body was hyped for the game and many students from both of the schools attended the game.

The students all sat in crowds watching the game unfold, there was two minutes left and it was the fourth quarter. Marley was currently in the lead by three points, Trost needed a touchdown to win the game.

Nervousness rushed through everyone, they only had four times to get the ball to the endzone. If not, Marley would regain possession and that would be it. They needed to score here and now to win the game.

"Dude there is no way we can make it past! Do you see their defense? They're tearing ass," Eren said to Reiner.

It was their final timeout, "Eren have a little hope here! As long as we get to a good point we will win," Reiner replied, his eyes rolling.

"Come on! Let's do this!" Jean yelled.

They clapped together and walked into position to pass the ball. Eren swallowed thickly as he waited for the ball to be snapped towards Reiner, they needed to get down the field at least.

"Hut!"

Eren ran down the field, his arms opening for the ball. He turned to see the ball falling towards him, he reached his arms up and caught it, landing on the turf near Marley's 30 yard line.

"Hell yeah Eren!"

He stood up, seeing his girlfriend cheering in the stands. She wore his jersey and called for him. (Y/N) really was his biggest motivator when it came to football, she came to every game, celebrated wins with him, and even let him rant when they lost those games.

"Let's go! We don't have much time left! The clock is still running Jaeger!" his coach yelled from the sidelines.

Eren tossed the ball to the referee and ran back to his position. He felt everything suddenly slow down, his mind beginning to race and (Y/N)'s words began to echo in his mind.

"You got this baby! I believe in you! I mean it when I say it."

"Think of me when you make a touchdown! I love you!"

"Hut!" Reiner's voice broke him out of his trance.

Eren began to run forward, the ball falling into his arms. Cheers erupted into the stands as Eren ran towards the endzone, he pushed away the players trying to bring him down. He ran into the endzone and threw the ball onto the ground.

"Touchdown! Trost University!"

His teammates ran behind him, "Fuck yeah Eren!" Jean yelled.

"Eren!"

His head turned to (Y/N) in the stands cheering and waving at him. A smile formed on his features, he pointed his finger up at her to show her that he acknowledged her.

"That is the final ladies and gentlemen!" the announcer called over the loud speaker.

Eren smiled hearing the news, he took off his helmet and wiped the sweat that dripped from hid head. He felt excitement and relief washing over him, they won. They actually won.

The team went to the locker room to change, Eren was eager to see (Y/N), she was a huge help for this win and his motivation. He wanted to celebrate with her.

"See you next season, Eren!" Reiner called as he headed towards his car.

Eren nodded, "Bet! See you then!" he replied.

Eren walked towards his car, a smile grew onto his face seeing (Y/N) standing there. Her hands around her arms.

She ran towards him, "Hi baby!" she said.

Eren embraced her in a hug, "Hi princess... I'm so glad to see you. You doing okay?" he asked, cupping her cheek.

She smiled, "I'm fine.. congrats on your win! I'm so happy for you, are you going to the after parties or?"

He chuckled, "Nah.. I was thinking we could.. celebrate with each other? I really don't feel like partying tonight," he replied.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, "That sounds great! You wanna get going?" she said.

"For sure, let's get going." Eren said, his hands reaching into his pockets for his car keys.

(Y/N) walked to the passenger side and got in as Eren unlocked the car, he tossed his bag in the backseat and got in the front.

His eyes averted towards hers, a smile growing onto his face again.

"What?" she asked.

Eren cupped her cheek, "Come here," he replied, bringing her face closer to his. He pressed a soft kiss on her lips, her cheeks growing hot. "I love you.."

She smiled, "I love you too.."

Eren leaned back before turning the key to start his car, his hand found its way to her thigh giving it a small squeeze before he began the drive back to the apartment they shared.

"I'm really happy for you, you know." she said, breaking the silence between them.

Eren looked over at her as he slowed at the red stop light. The glow lighting onto his skin, "Thank you baby.. I appreciate it a ton," he replied.

Her fingers intertwined with his, "Of course babe, the team couldn't have done it without you." she smiled.

Eren chuckled a bit, "It was all a group effort though, really," he said, pressing on the gas causing the car to go forward.

Eventually the two arrived back to their apartment, Eren was quite sore from the game and (Y/N) was tired herself from the long day. He wanted to lay down and cuddle up with her, it was his perfect way of celebrating, plus, why would he deny that? It was better than any party.

Eren was laying on the bed they shared, he was staring at the ceiling waiting for (Y/N) to come out from the bathroom. His mind began to wander to her voice before Reiner made that last play, she was one of the many reasons why he was motivated to win. She had always been there.

"Sorry I took forever.. what you thinking about handsome?"

Eren looked over to see her crawling into bed, she was wearing shorts and one of his t-shirts. A smile grew onto his lips.

"Eh nothing... it isn't important anyway, come here though, it's been awhile since we've been like this." he replied, opening his arms for her.

She gladly went into his embrace, she felt his warmth surrounding her like a thick blanket. "I missed nights like these.. even if we do live together," she giggled.

He ran his fingers along her hair, "I missed them too.. but don't worry, I'm here now and that's not going to change. At least for a bit anyway," he said. "But uh.. I wanted to tell you something."

She shifted a bit, her eyes finding their way up to his emerald ones. "Huh? What is it?" she asked.

Eren cleared his throat a bit, "When it was the final play of the game.. I heard your voice in my head. It was you telling me all those things before the game.. and I like to say that you helped me win today. Without you (Y/N).. I probably wouldn't have been able to win," he replied. "You're my biggest motivator and I couldn't ask for a better girlfriend.."

A smile grew onto her face, "Eren that's so.. sweet of you. I just love seeing you happy babe, that's one of the many reasons why I motivate you so much. I love you, Eren, I wanna see you do good."

Eren felt his heart grow warm and swell, "I love you more (Y/N), thank you for being with me. Your support is probably one of the many reasons why I keep going, I do all of this for you." he said.

She lied her head against his chest, "I'll always be your #1 motivator, forever and always."

He kissed the top of her head, "Can I make you Mrs.Jaeger yet? I wanna keep you forever," he asked, pulling her closer against him.

She giggled, "Maybe after we finish school.. right now we should focus on celebrating," she smiled.

Eren put his hands around her waist, he brought her body so she was now on top of him. "Oh? And what might that be beautiful?" he asked, a brow raising.

She rolled her eyes playfully, "Hm.. maybe some kisses? You deserve it after the touchdown you made today," she replied running her fingers along his brunette locks.

Eren put his hands on her hips, "Oh? Say less then.." he whispered before leaning in and pressing a kiss on her lips.

Her hands found their way to his neck, bringing him closer to her. His tongue glided along her bottom lip, asking for permission; in which she opened a bit wider to let him explore the cavern of her mouth.

He pulled back, "That was well needed for sure.." he smirked.

(Y/N) shifted a bit, "There's more where that came from!" she yelled before pressing her lips against his cheeks.

Eren started to laugh from the attack of kisses on his face, her lips ticked his skin and he couldn't contain his laughter.

"Okay okay! You got me there!" he said, his breath uneven from laughing.

She ran her thumb along his jaw, "I love you, okay? I can't wait for next season," she replied.

His eyes seemed to sparkle from her words, "I love you too, I know you'll be by my side," he said, smiling. "But please... can we get back to celebrating? In a more... fun way?"

Her mouth was now open, "Oh? You wanna be like that? All you had to do was ask," she said before laying down next to him.

Eren chuckled, he put both of his arms beside her head. "I'm going to have a lot of fun with you tonight.." he whispered lowly in her ear.

#anime #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot imagines #aot fanfiction #snk x y/n #snk x reader #snk imagines #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #anime fanfic #this sucked gn

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missblissy · 3 years

Note

I don't think I even need to ask but 👀👀👀👀 7 with Alastor. Tyty.

((Hi welcome to the HC where Alastor has a degrading kink of some kind so I wrote this as soon as I got the chance to. And No problem Nonny >w> I hope you enjoy!! Here is the song featured in this fic!!))

Kisses || 7: Passionate kisses || Closed!!

He sat there, fingers on the ivory keys, looking at you as if you were the only person left in this burning hellscape of a world. This was it, the moment of his life he looked forward to most. Nothing else filled him with the desire he had now, as he watched you circle him on this stage. He played the piano, you sang the song. It was as simple as that. Perfection at its finest. The crowd watched, enjoying what little entertainment this hotel had to offer. You took in a breath, eyes only on Alastor. You didn't care about anything else, not the crowd, not the stage. It was only him, this was only for him. He wore only a red shirt, with his sleeves rolled up, exposing the odd nature and truth of his gloves, which weren't gloves at all. There was something sexy about that though, the way the dark colorations bleed like veins up his arms. Alastor even tried his bowtie for a regular tie and he lacked his monocle. You, on the other hand, had a lovely matching red dress, the sleeves hung just off the shoulders, leaving them bare and exposed. Your dress glittered ever so slightly under the spotlight and as you walked slowly, the long side slit shows your slender legs, with black heels. The two of you made quite the handsome pair.

You perked your rosy lips and as you walked by him, you made sure to trail your fingers along his shoulder, to his neck, and along his other shoulder, "Missed me, missed me, now you've got to kiss me. If you kiss me, mister, I might tell my sister. If I tell her, mister, she might tell my mother and my mother, mister, she might tell my father! And my father, mister, he won't be too happy... And he'll have his lawyer to come up from the city and arrest you, mister, so I wouldn't miss me. If you get me, mister, see!"

The piano keys bucked out their notes with each aggressive keynote. He was entrapped in your gaze, sexy and hungry and willing to be misled by you. He narrowed his gaze as you made your way around the piano. Just as before, you traced your fingers along, taking slow long steps with the sway of your hips. But the thing that struck him the most was how you sang in such a low whisper. Of course, it was into an old microphone (Which honestly didn't make it better) but your voice was hushed into a whisper as if it was only for him to hear, despite being on a stage, "Missed me, missed, me now you've got to kiss me, If you kiss me, mister, you must think I'm pretty... If you think so, mister, you must want to fuck me! If you fuck me, mister, it must mean you love me- If you love me, mister, you would never leave me! It's as simple as can be!"

You winked at him and gave a little flip of your hair as the sound of a coin slot in the background matched your body language. And with every new verse, Alastor only played the piano louder, more aggressively. The flicker in his eye and the lust in his red gaze only pushed you furthered on. You circled around him a second time, eventually stopping behind him, you leaned over his shoulder and sang in a soft voice, toying with his emotions, "Missed me, missed me, now you've got to kiss me. If you miss me, mister, why do you keep leaving? If you trick me, mister, I will make you suffer! And they'll get you, mister, put you in the slammer, and forget you, mister! Then you'll miss me, won't you...? Won't you miss me? Won't you miss me? Won't you miss me?"

You draped your arms over him, letting your hands run down the front of his chest, slipping over the silk of his suit. You made sure to lean in and smile while watching his fingers along with the white keys, "Missed me, missed me, now you've got to kiss me. If you kiss me, mister, take responsibility. I'm fragile, mister, just like any girl would be. And so misunderstood! So treat me delicately..."

Quickly you moved away from him and dramatically threw a hand in the air, basking it over your face as if to block out the sun. You did a twirl until you stopped beside the piano and flung yourself over it. The slit up your dress exposed your leg as you lifted it up and crossed it over the other, "Missed me, missed me, now you've gone and done it! Hope you're happy in the county penitentiary! It serves you right for kissing little girls! But I will visit, if you miss me, say you miss me!" You paused then sat up straight and turned your head quickly to face Alastor. Your hair bounced and swished into your face as you put a finger to your lip and asked in an innocent voice, "How's the food they feed you? Do you miss me? Will you... kiss me through the window? Do you miss me, miss me.. ?" You pushed yourself off the piano and walked quickly back to Alastor, standing behind him once again as you let a hand trail down the side of his face. And as if you were really asking it, you sang out your last line, "Will they ever let you go? I miss my mister so."

With the last note from the piano, the curtains swished together, closing you two of from the crowd. With the newfound privacy, you sashayed your way over to him. As he held out his hand, you slipped your fingers across his, down his pam, and latched on to his wrist as he pulled you towards him. Your finger intertwined with his, while his other hand snaked around your waist, resting near your lower back. He held you standing there, one of his knees between your legs. He brought the back of your hand to his lips and gave it a soft kiss, "You love making me out to be the bad guy, don't you?" He flicked his gaze up to you, half-lidded and dark.

"You're horrible," You teased, then smirked as you tilted your head slightly, loose strands of hair falling into your face, "Terrible, utterly disgusting."

Alastor gave your arm a gentle yank but strong enough to swiftly pull you in, "Go on," He took his hand and grabbed your by your chin, his thumb running over your bottom lip.

You took this chance to get closer, only inches from his face, "A degenerate, dumpster fire of a man. A truly wretched soul,"

"Oh you're too kind, my little doe," His gaze tore into you, dark, red, and glowing with passion. He took a long stare letting his eyes travel over your body that so perfectly fit the damn dress, "Anything else?"

"You're awful in every way that I love," You grabbed him by his tie and pulled him as close as he could possibly get, "I hate you, do you love me?"

He pulled in a long deep breath that followed with a low a deep growl of a laugh. It was twisting around in the static of his radio-tinted voice, going as low to make him sound like an animal hiding in the dark. He took the chance to close the space between you and connect your lips. At the same time his arms wrapped around you while his claws dug into your skin.

The prick of his teeth tugging at your lips, enticing you to give in made it hard to resist him. You could feel the smirk off his lips and even the echo of his laughter as you melted into his embrace. You found yourself week, letting a hiccup of a moan slip from your lungs. Alastor made quick work to kiss your even harder, deepening the kiss until he had tasted every part of your mouth. He started to pull away but you wanted more. The weight shifted between you two. You could feel him shift and give way as you crawled into his lap. There was a point there when you thought you both might have tipped off the bench and into the piano. But that never happened, so you curled your arms around Alastor's neck while a pair of fingers tangled into his hair. Shivers traveled down your skin as you felt his fingers drift up your back and tug at the back hems of dress, not too far from where the zipper could be, if only he really meant it and wasn't teasing you instead.

You let out a growl and pulled away quickly. You had to catch your breath, and as you huffed with a dark blush on your face, Alastor looked over your perfect and flustered face. He soaked in the fact that he could make you like this, flushed red cheeks, lust in your eyes, and gasping for air.

He had enough of being here, toying with you behind the curtains of a stage. With one arm around you, he pulled you close and his face was well pressed against your chest. His smile was large and wicked as he used his free hand to snap his fingers. In a cloud of smoke and screens, the two of you had vanished from sight, well into the shadows and far away from any prying eyes to witness what happened next.

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wordsintimeandspace · 3 years

Text

Step by Step

Aziraphale and Crowley finally get to be together, but they still have to define the bounds of their relationship. Step by step, they figure out what they're both comfortable with.

Aziraphale/Crowley, rated T, ~2.2k words. Written for @aceomenszine. Read on AO3!

“There you go, my dear,” Aziraphale said softly as he held out the mug of tea to the pile of blankets covering Crowley. The pile moved and shifted, until finally Crowley’s face emerged. He reached out just far enough to grab the handle and quickly pulled his hand back into the blankets.

“Thanks,” he muttered, taking a large gulp that surely would have scalded his tongue without the miracle Aziraphale performed in the last second. Aziraphale wrung his hands in front of his belly, nervously watching how the colour slowly returned to Crowley’s pale cheeks.

“I really am sorry,” Aziraphale said, for what felt like the tenth time in the last half an hour. Crowley gave him a sour look over his mug, but it had lost a bit of its sting already.

“‘S fine,” he grumbled. “Just don’t drag me out of the house again if I tell you it’s gonna rain.”

Aziraphale winced. The rain had been bad, coming down suddenly and vigorously, and drenching them within seconds. It had taken only a miracle to dry them once they made it home, but the short way from the village back to the cottage had been enough for the chill to settle in Crowley’s bones. “I won’t,” Aziraphale promised, still hesitating in front of the couch where Crowley was curled up.

Crowley sighed, the last bit of irritation melting away. “Angel, stop fretting. Just come here.”

Aziraphale didn’t need to be told twice. He gratefully sank onto the couch next to Crowley and pulled the demon into his arms. Crowley quickly set the mug onto the coffee table, and once it was out of the way he melted into Aziraphale’s embrace. His nose was still ice cold where it pressed into the skin of Aziraphale’s neck, but Aziraphale could hardly complain about that. Instead he brought his arms around Crowley, gently rubbing his arms and back to get some warmth back into his body.

“Better?” he asked quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of Crowley’s head.

“Yeah,” Crowley muttered, although he still sounded slightly miserable. Aziraphale tried to ignore the guilt gnawing at him, and tightened his grip around Crowley’s shoulders. He couldn’t miss the shudder that ran through Crowley in response, and only hoped that it wasn’t due to the cold this time.

His fingers suddenly stilled against Crowley’s back as a thought popped into his mind. There was one more thing he could do to make Crowley more comfortable. He’d prepared for this, quietly hoped for the opportunity to offer, but now that it was there, he wasn’t sure if it was appropriate. It might be too much. Too intimate. He didn’t want to overstep the boundaries Crowley had carefully laid out to him, shortly after the failed apocalypse when it had finally been safe to be together.

Crowley interrupted his train of thought, not giving him any more time to overthink. “Whatever you want to say, out with it, angel,” he mumbled against Aziraphale’s neck.

“I just had an idea,” Aziraphale started, a bit hesitantly. “I could draw you a bath, if you’d like.”

Crowley was still for a moment, but then his head perked up. “You know I’m not really mad anymore, right?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

“I know. Or — well, I’d hoped so.”

“So you really don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” Aziraphale protested. He slid his hands from Crowley’s back up to his face, gently cupping his cheeks. “Let me take care of you, darling.”

Crowley let out a strangled sound in the back of his throat and pressed his face back into Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Fine,” he grumbled eventually, and Aziraphale’s heart ached at the desperate longing in Crowley’s voice, barely concealed by his feigned exasperation. Aziraphale pressed a kiss to the top of Crowley’s head, and untangled himself from the embrace.

“I’ll call you when the bath is ready,” he said softly and Crowley nodded, still not meeting his eyes.

~~~

The bathroom was on the upper floor, right opposite the bedroom that Crowley usually occupied at night. It had come with the cottage when they bought it just a few months ago, but until now neither of them had used it much. Still, the clawfoot bathtub that stood in front of the window overlooking the garden was in pristine condition, not a speck of dust on it. On the windowsill, along with a few of Crowley’s plants, stood an array of bath supplements that Aziraphale had gathered in the last months. He’d always hoped the demon might make use of them once the weather turned in autumn. Allowing himself a pleased smile, Aziraphale turned on the tap and selected a bottle of bubble bath.

Only minutes later, the door opened behind him. Crowley stood in the door frame, still wrapped in a blanket. He stopped for a moment, blinking in what might have been surprise at the pile of bubbles and the scent of oranges and cinnamon wafting through the air. Then he smiled — a soft, quiet smile that made Aziraphale’s heart skip a beat.

“Here you go, darling,” Aziraphale said as he shut off the water. “Let me get a towel for you and then I’ll be out of your way.” He turned to the cabinet next to the sink while Crowley shuffled towards the bathtub. It took him a second to find the fluffiest towel they owned. When he finally turned back around, the sight that greeted him made him freeze in his tracks, heart thundering hard against his ribs.

Crowley was standing beside the tub, suddenly very naked. Aziraphale had heard the snap of Crowley’s fingers, had felt the miracle in the air, but he still hadn’t been prepared for that. The towel slipped through his fingers in shock while Crowley, oblivious to his reaction, leaned down to test the temperature of the water with his fingertips.

For a moment, Aziraphale couldn’t help but stare. He let his eyes roam over Crowley’s narrow shoulders, dusted with freckles, and down his lean back. He watched his muscles shift as Crowley straightened, and desperately tried to suppress the urge to reach out, to touch all the bits of skin that were usually covered and were now laid bare to Aziraphale for the first time in millenia. Before he could stop himself, Aziraphale’s gaze slipped even lower, and that was what finally pulled him out of his stupor. With a barely concealed yelp he whirled around, staring at the tiled wall instead of at Crowley.

“Sorry!” he managed to stammer, heat rising on his cheeks. “I’ll — ah, I’ll leave you to it, shall I?”

“Angel?” Crowley asked, sounding confused. Aziraphale didn’t need to look at him to know that there was a frown on his face.

"I — I'm sorry. I didn't want to impose."

“You’re not. What are you on about?”

“It’s just — ah. I wasn’t —” He trailed off, unsure how to put his whirling thoughts into words.

“Aziraphale. Will you look at me?”

Aziraphale thought about it for a second — about the sight of Crowley, still naked, but facing him this time — and quickly shook his head.

Crowley let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, I’ll just get into the bath,” he started. There was movement behind him, followed by a splash of water and a content sigh. “There. You can turn around.”

Aziraphale hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath, and did just that.

The bathtub was big enough for Crowley to fully submerge in the water. He sat in the heap of bubbles, only his head, shoulders and one arm sticking out. The arm was curled over the rim of the tub, Crowley’s head resting on top of it. To Aziraphale’s relief, he didn’t look at all uncomfortable at Aziraphale’s presence. Quite the contrary, although there was still that frown on his face, a little line between his brows that Aziraphale wanted to kiss away.

“Better?” Crowley asked, his voice oh so gentle.

Aziraphale nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Don’t apologize. If someone should do that, it’s me. Shouldn’t have sprung that on you without warning.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind, I promise. I just . . .”

“Yes?”

“I didn’t want to assume you would be comfortable with all this. I didn’t want to impose. And when I offered the bath, I didn’t want to imply . . . other things.”

“Is that what you’re worried about?" Crowley raised an eyebrow, so high that it nearly vanished under the hair falling into his face.

"It is. It's just, you have made it perfectly clear before what you think about certain, ah, naked activities. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

A snort escaped Crowley's lips. "This isn't sex, angel. This is me taking a bath. Haven't even made an effort."

"I know it isn't!" A flush rose on Aziraphale's cheeks all over again, spreading down his chest. "But you've thoroughly teased me about my collection of romance novels, so we both know where this usually goes, at least when humans are involved. I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I didn’t have any ulterior motives, I promise."

"Angel," Crowley began, his voice suddenly unbearably soft. "I've known you for 6000 years. I couldn't get the wrong idea even if I tried. I know you would never do anything I'm not comfortable with."

Aziraphale let out a breath. "Thank you, my dear,” he said quietly, finally meeting Crowley’s eyes. “So you're comfortable with this?"

Crowley stretched lazily like a cat in the sun. Again, Aziraphale couldn’t stop his gaze moving over his body — taking in the long arms stretched over the rim of the bathtub, the curve of his neck, all exposed with his head thrown back, and his lean chest jutting out of the water that hid his more private parts. By the time he moved his eyes back to Crowley’s face, Crowley was smirking at him. "Lounging naked in the bathtub while you ogle me?” Crowley drawled. “Yes, very comfortable with that, angel."

"Oh, I didn't —" Aziraphale spluttered, but Crowley only laughed.

"You did. And it’s fine, angel. Come here and kiss me."

Aziraphale let out a slow breath, and felt the tension draining out of his body along with it. How was he supposed to say no to that?

He picked up the towel he’d dropped, if only to give him a moment to compose himself, and stepped at Crowley’s side. He dropped to his knees next to the bathtub, a pillow appearing beneath him at the snap of Crowley’s fingers, and reached out to cup Crowley’s cheek. Crowley leaned into the touch, letting out a content hum as his eyes slipped closed. The sheer trust and contentment on Crowley’s face took Aziraphale’s breath away. He stilled, not wanting to break this moment, unable to tear his gaze away. But then Crowley opened an eye, raised an eyebrow in question, and Aziraphale couldn’t deny him his silent request any longer. He leaned in, brushing his lips over Crowley’s in a kiss so gentle Aziraphale felt like it might shatter him to his core.

They stayed like that for a long moment, just relishing the closeness. After what might have been seconds or minutes or hours, they finally broke apart. A bit breathless, Aziraphale searched Crowley’s face for any sign of discomfort, but there was nothing but bliss.

“Alright?” Crowley asked softly, his eyes still closed.

“Very much so, darling. And you?”

“Perfect. You know, I wouldn’t complain if you wanted to join me in here.”

Aziraphale started at that, pulling back a little. For a moment, he was thrown off by just how much he wanted it. The thought made his head swim and his heart race, but still — it was a lot. Too much, maybe, at least for today. “I’m —” he started, his voice breaking before he could get anything else out.

“You don’t have to, obviously,” Crowley added, suddenly looking nervous.

Aziraphale quickly shook his head. “It’s . . . it’s not that. I think I might like that. I just . . . I don’t know. Next time, maybe, if you’ll still want to?”

Crowley caught his hand before he could fully retreat. Slowly, giving Aziraphale time to pull out of his grasp if he wanted to, he lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Course I will.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” Aziraphale smiled, squeezing Crowley’s hand before he cupped the side of Crowley’s head once more, moving his fingers over his cheek and into his hair.

Crowley craned his neck, leaning into the touch as he let his eyes slip closed again. “We haven’t really talked about this, have we?” he mumbled after silently enjoying the caress for a while. “What we like, what we don’t like. Except for the sex bit, of course.”

Aziraphale let out a quiet laugh. “I feel like we should. At some point. Although I’m afraid I don’t really know what I like, when it comes to a lot of these things. I haven’t done this with anyone else, obviously.”

“That’s alright. We’ve got all the time in the world. We can figure it out one step at a time.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Yes,” he said, his voice soft. “I’d love to do that.”

#ineffable husbands #ineffable husbands fic #ace omens zine #good omens #good omens fic #my fic

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