#(( He shall be cherished immediately. ))

[quimichi]

❛ CUDDLING SOME GENSHIN BOYS ༉‧₊˚

Genshin boy's x Creator!Reader

Tighnari, Aether, Albedo, Venti & Zhongli

Tighnari

His muscles flex instinctively as you wrap your arms around him. It's so sudden and yet so perfect. His heart flutters, overwhelmed by everything this moment contains.

Youre pressed against his body, your soft lips grazing his neck as you whisper sweet nothings to each other. His pulse throbs, hot against your cheek, and he cannot help but hold you as close as he possibly can. He does not want you to leave. He craves only your touch. "So comfy..." you whisper into his neck.The warmth of your words leaves Tighnari dizzy. It feels like the first time he has heard such sweet words from your lips, and yet it is familiar. It is a kind of love he has always dreamt of sharing with you, and it is everything he has ever fantasized.

"Do you enjoy it?" his voice is whisper-soft, so low he can barely even say it himself. He cannot dare to speak any further, but his breathing is rapid as he clings to you. "A lot..."

Your admission causes his heart to swell and his ears twitch in enjoyment. The joy he feels washes over him like a wave, the pure, unadultered happiness one feels when all the stars align. He wants nothing more than to stay like this forever.

"I'm glad"

Aether

Aether immediately leans further into you, pressing himself into your touch. He lets out a hum of happiness as he relaxes further into you, making himself comfortable and safe in your presence. He breathes in your scent and his smile grows. After a quiet moment, the traveler glances up at you, his head burried in your chest, and tilts his head, seemingly curious. "You seem to be enjoying yourself" you giggle as you gently stroke his hair. "Mmm..." Aether murmurs, nodding a little in response. "It's hard not to when I'm in your embrace." Aethers expression softens even more as he leans his head into your hand—his body seems magnetically drawn to yours, his whole life lived in pursuit of your touch.

He relaxes almost immediately. The travelers expression becomes a content smile, as if the world has finally returned to normal.

Thank you, his eyes say to you; only you.

Albedo

His heart skips a beat as you snuggle up to him, and he glances down at you with a slightly stunned expression.

Your physical affection isn't as formal as the words of praise that he offers, but it warms him to his core. He doesn't think that he has ever felt so happy. Albedo gazes down at you as you doze, his expression filled with affection and love.

His lips curl upwards gently, and he runs a hand through your hair. The soft strands are delicate against his fingertips, and he can't keep himself from kissing your forehead.

You've caught his heart, as if it were a butterfly in a jar. "Love this" you mumble tiredly. He smiles, but he doesn't speak. He holds you close, relishing the sensation of your body beside his. His arms are wrapped around you, and he runs his fingers through your hair again. He traces the contours of your face, as if he wants to memorize you.

"Agreed"

Venti

Venti nestles his head into your chest, contented to breathe in your warmth as he wraps his arms around you tightly. His touch is light and tender, but he does not want to let go. It makes him dizzy with elation, just being this close to you. But letting go? There's no way...Venti hides a smile beneath you, his lips curling into a shy shape. He shifts his body slightly, burrowing his head into your chest and using you as a pillow. Being so close to you allows him to hear your heartbeat... It's one of his most cherished sounds.

"I love being in your embrace," he answers contentedly, "I love your heartbeat— it's music in my ears. There is nowhere in this world that would make me happier than to be within your embrace... I want to be here, this close to you, for as long as we both shall live."

He presses his lips against your skin on your chest. It is a mark of his affection. He does it again and again, smiling as he kisses you.

Zhongli

The feeling of your arms and warmth is as addicting as a drug. When Zhongli finally finds himself in your embrace, he's quick to wrap his arms in kind. Zhongli closes his eyes, content to breathe in the scent of your scent; the scent of your hair. His fingers gently brush your jawline, caressing the smoothness of your skin.

This is enough to make him forget everything. In this moment, nothing matters except for the two of you. "Yours," The word is barely above a whisper, barely audible at all. As he shifts in your arms, his breath catches between his teeth. He presses himself close; close enough that it feels like his chest will crack open.

The touch of your fingertips on his skin has him trembling involuntarily. His eyes close when you gently caress him, as though the touch sets the entire world alight, every nerve in his body tingling.

"Yours," he says again, this time almost pleading. " 'm all yours"

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin cult au #sagau genshin #tighnari x reader #venti x reader #zhongli x reader #aether x reader #albedo x reader

[cherryjuiceblues]

𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 | 𝟓.𝟐

➯ HARRY LETS HIS FRUSTRATION GET THE BETTER OF HIM AND SOME TIME AWAY FROM Y/N HAS HIM TURNING UP AT HER DOOR TO FINALLY TELL HER HOW HE FEELS. ✰ dom!harry resolved angst. shouting. sexual content. BDSM influenced punishment. dominant and submissive dynamics. slight anal play. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 10.7k ッ mutually beneficial masterlist

The house doesn’t smell like curry.

And that’s the first thing he notices when he steps inside after a long day. Harry always makes a point to relish in the view of his home before he enters its threshold; warm and bathed in light—the clear signs of life pouring out of the windows and across the driveway. Y/N cradles his heart in more ways than she shall ever know but simply remembering that she is here, in his home, keeping it safe whilst he’s gone… It does irrevocable things to him.

But today, fretful from the stresses of the night before, perhaps he’ll admit that it does less to soothe his weary head as it does most days. When the only thing getting him through the workday was the promise of a beloved meal, prepared with love, steaming—waiting for him when he got home—and the scent doesn’t immediately hit him in the face… he worries. He worries for his sanity and for Y/N’s wellbeing. He worries for the words he might say on an impatient, empty stomach.

The tension between Harry’s brows radiates throughout his entire skull as he rolls out his shoulders and prepares himself for the conversation he’s going to have to have in approximately ten seconds. He can hear Y/N tottering around in the kitchen—and that almost makes it worse—that she’s in there and yet he can smell… he can smell something sweet. Something—

His feet lead him to the scent, hoping his nose is mistaken, forehead tightening at the sight he is greeted with.

“What’s this?” His cadence is concerning—unclad with his usual charming lilt—swathed in this new, murky tone of impatience. “Where’s m’dinner, sweetheart?”

Y/N twists around from her place at the sink, lips turned downwards unlike her usual welcome of a happy, relieved smile. And her reaction, Harry will later accept, is a valid one considering his complete lack of greeting—when he is usually so full of soft lilts and gentle caresses.

“Oh—hello to you too,” she scoffs, words tumbling out uncharacteristically, “‘m I your housewife, now?” And—regardless of whether Y/N had already been labelled as such by Harry’s own employees, she has a feeling his eyes would’ve darkened all the same. His immediate, deathly silence does more to terrorise her than any garish attempt at horror (although that successfully scares her too).

She’s wondered what it would take for him to have his moment. Harry’s patience has always been such a relief—the most gentle person in Y/N’s life—a trait previously severely lacking and one she now cherishes every day.

And she knows his reaction isn’t unjust. She should have made him dinner, ready to eat as soon as he stepped foot inside—just like she had promised earlier in the day. With a smile on her face. She can’t quite explain why she made a cake instead. She’d had every intention to do as she’d said, was on her way to the kitchen to get started, in fact. But then she’d opened her phone, scrolled through Pinterest for just long enough to become distracted, to forget her initial quest, and to become enamoured by a heart-shaped sponge cake instead.

Y/N understands Harry’s anger. But it’s still upsetting. She feels as though she has committed something worthy of jail time. Her stomach churns, previously dancing butterflies dispersing with a single brandishing glance over her way. They’re replaced by heavy, heavy bricks—weighing her down, immobilising her completely as she watches Harry inspect the kitchen with beady eyes.

“You made a cake?” He asks, already knowing of the answer; the evidence stares him straight in the face—accompanied by the debris—a crime scene of flour and icing sugar, bowls upon bowls filled with remnants of batter. She opens her mouth, abandoned by sound, swiftly closed when Harry continues on his own; unneeding of Y/N to have a conversation.

“Does it taste like fucking Korma, darlin’?” And she doesn’t like it—the way he weaponises the word she associates so closely to her own identity—the one he uses more than her own name. He’s upset. And it’s her fault.

“It—”

“—Don’t. Just—” he sighs, swiping his heavy palm over his forehead, “—be quiet.”

It slaps her across the face—his unwavering displeasure. She feels the heat rising, uncomfortable in her face, the stinging of her eyes uncontrollable. Harry walks around the island, sighing at the sight of his sink. She was going to clean it, she was. But that doesn’t matter now.

Y/N stands awkwardly near the doorway, stuck in place. He’s muttering, hands busying automatically, clattering indelicately—every bang and crash deafening in Y/N’s nervous state. “Cake,” he laughs flatly, “she makes fucking cake.”

She’d made it with good intentions, she swears. Everything she does is for Harry one way or another. But even Y/N can admit her timing had been astronomically off with this one. A tear trembles its way over her waterline, Harry chiding her; talking about her as if she isn’t there at all, wounding in a way that makes her feel small unlike every other time before. She swipes it away quickly but the evidence remains—a sad, salty trail. 

“Leaves her mess—” a spoon is dropped unceremoniously, “everywhere,” throwing utensils into the top rack of the dishwasher with a lack of finesse. “Promises me dinner and then has the… the cheek to play the feminism card. Like it’s some… sort of punishment that I dole out.”

And then he spins around, wielding a whisk in a way that usually should diminish someone’s threat but only emphasises his anger. His eyes harden at the sight of her wet face, and he softens his words none. “You know I don’t think of you as some— some tool, some object for my own desires,” he puts the whisk into the dishwasher, before addressing her again, “but when you promise someone something, you fucking deliver, do you understand me?”

Y/N nods jerkily, more tears brimming. “I’m sorry,” she all but wails. The guilt fills her ears with a thickness—one that throws her off balance.

“Yes, I’m sure you are.” She’s rendered him resigned; her dominant usually so bright and uplifting, now expelling sigh upon sigh at the mere existence of her.

“I don’t want to look at your sad little face, turn around.” Y/N lags, feet glitching over the tiles. “Face the wall—yep,” he nods at her stunned expression, indicating that he is indeed serious, “go on.”

But surely not. “Let me—” her arms reach out in front of her, asking to help. Begging to help—to clean up her own mess and let Harry sit down.

Harry shuts her down, shaking his head tersely, coming forward to turn her himself. “—In the corner…just do something good. Wipe your face—” She lets herself be manhandled, shoulders quivering silently. He nudges her knees with his own, positioning her just right—in the corner like a naughty child. “—Don’t need to see you crying.”

He’s right; he doesn’t. She fucked up, Harry deserves to be the upset one. But instead Y/N’s weeping like some sort of inadvertent guilt trip.

Without her vision, everything he does is that much louder—his mutterings now comparable to full-blown rantings. “Who needs—three fucking bowls? This isn’t masterchef, darling. You don’t need three bowls to make a cake, you don’t.” Every sound makes her body tighten up.

Y/N sniffles, “I’m sorry,” forehead drooping to rest weakly against the wall.

Harry doesn’t seem to hear her sad whimper, grumbling away to himself. But as he turns and starts wiping the island counter, he scolds her again. “Stand up straight, we’re not relaxing,” as she forces her head back up sadly, twisting her neck to apologise once more. He’s moved back to the sink, knocking the tap with his knuckle to start soaking a large, ceramic bowl. “—And quit lookin’ at me over your shoulder.”

She slinks back around, shame heating her cheeks. Her posture wilts like a sorry flower. But she can’t help but worry as he’s soaking the bowls—a remembrance of the frosting she’d made, ready to spread on her heart-shaped creation after it had cooled. She checks back over her shoulder just as he’s standing on the pedal of the bin, lid swinging up.

“No!” she cries, scrambling over to rescue the bowl from Harry’s evil clutches. He sighs, eyes roving over her doleful, wet face, but he lets her hold it.

“Why—are you crying?” He asks with such indignation. “Do you need a reason, hm? Because we can find you one,” he swipes under her eyes carelessly, murmuring something about how he ought to never make her come again. “Ridiculous,” muttering to himself as Y/N stands woefully before him—frame so much smaller than it should be. “Go upstairs. Take your—” he turns her by her shoulders, “—bowl and go upstairs. Be useful and cry elsewhere… whilst I make us dinner.”

Y/N wonders, as she sadly shuffles her feet along the floor and up the stairs, if this is the Harry his previous partners were privy to. If this is how his dominance presented—cold, harsh, and unforgiving. She can’t deny the curiosity; that if the circumstances were different that she wouldn’t be aroused at the expense of her fear. Not that she’s scared of him—she’s not. He’s not that kind of angry. But this is unexpected, and it’s unsettling. She can’t decipher the true intentions behind his words; if they’re fuelled by frustration, hunger, exhaustion… or if they’re disguised by such factors in order to portray his true feelings. Was he… irreversibly upset with her? Was he disgusted by her? Repulsed? Turned off? 

She sits on the edge of his bed—the bowl is cold against her palms, heavy and sorrowful, and surely much saltier than she’d originally intended—tears dripping off her chin and into the frosting below.

She cries because she’s embarrassed, she cries because she’s failed; she’s a disappointment and a right headache. It’s why she just sits there, doing as he’d told her—to cry elsewhere. Whether or not she’s waiting for Harry, Y/N doesn’t know. Her brain sits in thick sludge inside of her skull.

Time evades her in moments like these. Her eyes gloss over, focused on one blurring point, her thoughts form with immense struggle—like someone wading through mud, picking up one foot with force, weighed down by the imprisoning filth, allowed freedom for a fraction of a second before it is submerged once more. 

She sits and she stares at nothing in particular, blinking only to displace the tears that obscure her already fuzzy vision. And when Harry appears in the doorframe, it takes a lagging second or two before recognition, before her face twists slightly and a wet garbling sound dribbles its way out of her downturned mouth.

He sighs, anger replaced with exhaustion now… or simply pushed aside until another time. Harry walks towards her, movements slow; cautious like that of a person desperate to keep a placated baby sweet.

“Don’t cry, come on,” he thumbs a tear from her dewy cheek, “don’t need to cry.” His voice is softer now, Y/N is grateful. Although his caressing cadence is enough to make her emotional on most days. So it does little to cease the rapid beating of her heart or the little diamond droplets in her waterline.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” she sniffles, pushing her face into the pressure of Harry’s thumb despite feeling unworthy of it.

“Okay.” It’s a murmur, removed of emotion, as he’s smoothing his fingers around to the back of her neck, holding firmly—keeping her upright to allow her heavy head some respite—whilst he stands tall at the foot of the bed, gargantuan in size compared to Y/N’s sad form.

“Listen to me,” the digits curl slightly, angling her head up, up. She’s forced to ruminate over the tension in Harry’s brows and the evidence of his hands running through his hair with irritation, strands coiling wildly. But she nods against the strain, trying so hard to be better.

“You have two options.” He doesn’t sound angry anymore. Y/N almost wishes he did. The complete lack of inflection leaves her with nothing to lean on. “You can be a good girl for the rest of the night, just like I know you’re so capable of—” he pauses to let the words settle, and maybe to hear the echo of the slight spite in his accusation. 

Y/N doesn’t think she needs to hear option two, and when Harry does say it, it makes her sad all over again. 

“—or you can go to the spare room.” 

Her lip twitches; she clenches her eyes shut to force the tears back down and shakes her head in silence. 

Harry strokes his thumb against the back of her scalp. “We will talk about this. Tomorrow, we will. But for now, I want easy, okay? Will you be good?”

I am good! Is what she wants to say. She wants to say that she never meant to be bad, she never meant to upset him. She wants to take the last few hours of her life back completely and do it all over again. 

The weight of the bowl in her hands is a reminder. She puts it down on the mattress beside her, curling her knees underneath her bum to push her height up. To reach Harry’s chest and clench her fingers into the material of his shirt, jacket long since removed in the heat of his frustration.

“I’llbegood,” Harry feels the vibration of her words and hears the muffled promise as Y/N smears sad kisses over his cotton covered heart. He lets her—eyes losing the fight against his lids as they fall shut, sighing as he worries about taking this all too far. 

But the wheels are in motion, and the emotions are high. If Y/N can’t follow through on a promise, then Harry must follow through with a punishment. Or a scolding. Or whatever it is that they’re doing right now—which seems to be neither. He just wants to sleep, and hold her warm body, and forget about his day.

He brings his hand up to smooth over the top of her head, closed eyes allowing him one last moment of reprieve. Y/N’s tears soak through his shirt, wetting his skin underneath. No doubt he’ll find dampened patches littered across the material, soon to dry but the memory will never fade. Of having his love kiss through her tears, to beg in her sadness for forgiveness by applying her own homemade bandaids.

Harry needs a distraction.

His gaze lands on the forgotten bowl when he opens his eyes, gently pushing Y/N back onto her bum when he decides what to do.

“You didn’t eat your frosting, baby?”

And now he’s confusing her… because now he sounds almost playful—and Y/N doesn’t know the correct answer to give—the right words in the right order to be rewarded with the right reaction.

“I didn’t—know if you wanted me to, Sir,” she swallows around some of the words, snotty nose all stuffy and suffocating her vocal chords.

“I’d like you to now.” Harry sees his hands on her face as he says it, white frosting painting her like something else they’re familiar with—his fingers spanning the entirety of her features, smearing the mess around like she’s his own personal canvas. 

He leans down, just enough to dip his fingers inside the bowl, coating his digits, and then he stretches back out to his full height with purpose, sinewy forearm veiny as it is pulled towards Y/N’s mouth by an eager hand. 

She sits still—statuesque—with her eyes roving up Harry’s rolled sleeve and all the way to the straight line of his mouth. Y/N can’t help but wish she could know exactly what he was thinking as he daubs the pads of his middle and ring finger against the seal of her mouth, displacing the substance from his fingers to her lips, before teasing his way inside to hook her bottom teeth down and unlatch her jaw.

He just… stares for a moment, holding her mouth open and watching as saliva pools beneath her tongue and kisses his fingertips. And then he pats her cheek with his other hand, a soft tap as Y/N’s lashes barely flutter from the weight of his palm. She drools a little when Harry drops her jaw, shame lingering somewhere but not quite reaching the forefront of her mind. It occurs to her to close her mouth, but it seems her dominant isn’t quite finished—bringing a newly dipped hand back up to her face. He’s all but dipped it entirely into the bowl, cold against Y/N’s face when he smudges his handprint over the left side of her face with a quirk of his lips.

“Sweet and salty, huh?” his eyes darken, the pad of his thumb smearing the frosting so indelicately adorning her face. The sugary paste intersects with a drying tear trail streaking down her cheek and Harry can’t help the way his saliva pools under his tongue, blocky front teeth pushing two lines into his bottom lip. 

She looks so pretty.

Y/N watches the way the flesh holds a slight indentation when her dominant closes his mouth once again. The quickstep of her heart dances with exhilaration now—body frozen in anticipation as Harry’s looming stature shrinks her. Her eyes are wide, and the only things she dares to move, flitting around Harry’s face as he manhandles hers.

He squeezes her cheeks together, shaking her head from side to side before dipping his thumb into her open mouth and spreading it across her tongue. Vanilla blossoms on her taste buds, and a quiet hum rumbles at the back of Y/N’s throat.

“S’that nice?” Harry all but coos. “All your hard work? Does it taste good?” He’s teasing, she knows—but that’s never mattered with Harry. Y/N will always answer him sincerely. 

She hums around his thumb, “Mhm,” tongue flicking against his soft pad. If Y/N could eat everything off of Harry’s fingers, she would. Hand fed for life, lips cushioning his long digits as they stroke her tongue and caress the insides of her cheeks.

“Let me see,” Harry murmurs, keeping her head still as he bends down, tongue unfolding from behind his lips as he licks a stripe from the corner of her mouth to her cheekbone. Y/N makes a startled noise around his thumb, goosebumps littering her skin. Warmth and wet from his thick muscle as it lingers unnecessarily; he hums lewdly, over exaggerating the pleasure just to amplify Y/N’s—to watch her squeeze her thighs out of the corner of his eye as he leans back and swallows.

“Beautiful,” he concludes—about her frosting or about her, Y/N doesn’t know. Her eyes are wide and crystal clear, every emotion glittering over the surface of her corneas. And she just sits there, white smudges over her cheek, her lips, staring up at Harry as though he created the world in the palm of his hand—as though she sleeps soundly curled up in the nest of his dimple or the crevice of his navel.

Harry knuckles the rest of the mess off of her skin, suckling the joint into his mouth and gathering it all onto his tongue. She doesn’t expect the grip of his fingers on her jaw and for her automatic response being to present her own tongue, doesn’t realise that she registers the slight purse of his lips as he crowds her space and shamelessly lets the sweetness drip heavily into her mouth.

He doesn’t have to tell her to swallow as her throat bobs, eyes never wavering from Harry’s despite the electricity that jolts up her spine from the casual debauchery. So unwavering, his gaze, as if concentrating on the most important thing to ever happen in his life. Refusing to blink to avoid risking missing a single millisecond.

And then… then he steps back, the moment suddenly gone. Y/N misses the way his eyes droop regretfully.

Silent footfalls pad over to the en-suite, collecting cleanser and lotion, serum and soft wipes. Harry dabs at her face with such precision that Y/N wonders if it’s soothing for him—to take more care than necessary at cleaning her skin. She doesn’t quite understand the intent. Was he not going to continue what Y/N confidently assumes he had in mind?

He doesn’t as he changes out of his suit, he doesn’t as he passes his work shirt to Y/N, he doesn’t as she undresses—which would be the perfect time to do such a thing—he doesn’t as he pulls back the covers and settles in, patting the spot in front of him.

Y/N complies with a similar silence. No words shared but nonverbal communication can be just as effective. The wrap of Harry’s heavy forearm around her waist, pulling her in tight, so tight—almost too tight. That’s soothing enough to her, feeling his hard chest, his hard arms, his hard—

“Mm, Harry,” a whispered moan and a shift of her bum. She can feel him begging to nestle between her. 

“No, baby, no,” he tickles her neck inadvertently, burrowing his nose into the delicate flesh. She yearns to crane her head back against his shoulder.

“Want you to feel good, sir. Just stay warm inside me, please?”

“I don’t deserve it, pet. Sleep now. We’ll eat in an hour.” 

She can’t argue, not when her eyelids are so heavy. But the sleepiness of her brain and the tingling between her legs has her head all foggy, movements not her own as she guides Harry’s hand up to her mouth and coaxes his middle two fingers past her lips. He sighs into her neck, a gentle huff, but doesn’t resist—his other arm simply snakes under her body to wrap back around her waist and infuse her into his front.

Y/N has never slept so easily after an argument before.

When more of your possessions reside in your dominant’s house than your own, it’s probably time to reevaluate the situation. Y/N doesn’t do that as she juggles cans and bottles before dumping them into her suitcase—Harry’s suitcase because hers was old and battered—doesn’t even ponder it, which is something novel for her.

Harry passes a makeup bag silently from beside her. His case sits open on top of his mattress, slowly filling with clothes and toiletries. She’s not going for long, not even three full days, but Y/N has always been more at ease when she overpacks—instead of underpacking and feeling that swirling dread when she realises she’s forgotten something.

They’d travelled to her house to grab some things and then back to Harry’s—where he neatly folds whilst she fretfully panics—too manic to be overly helpful.

“Do you think I’ll need my sunglasses?” She gestures with them, spinning them around her finger before proceeding to juggle midair to stop them falling to the floor.

Harry smiles, humming whilst he picks a loose bit of fluff from the jeans he’s folding, “I’d take them, just in case.”

“Won’t you tell me where we’re going?” She tries to round her eyes but Harry sees right through her. “Please?”

“No, darlin’, sorry.” He’s not sorry.

“I can’t believe you’ve known the whole time— when did he tell you? Why won’t you tell me? This is ridiculous…” she scoffs, “trying to send me somewhere when I have no bloody clue where it is I’m going—!”

“Oh, watch out everybody, she’s gearing up.”

“—Yes, I am! Stay clear of me unless you want a…” she hesitates , “a…”

“A knuckle sandwich?” Harry offers.

“A knuckle sandwich, yeah!” holding two small fists out in front of her with misguided intent. “Watch out, mate,” hopping about him like a crazy person.

He lets her, hoping she’ll tire herself out with all the bouncing around. “Okay, pal. I’m not telling you! I’m not sending you off to war, don’t worry, okay?”

She almost snorts. Don’t worry… what a ridiculous notion. “When pigs fly, Harry,” she grumbles.

They’re in better spirits today, evidently—although the morning had been tense. When Y/N had peeled her eyes open and relished in the feeling of Harry wrapping her up, she’d melted even further into the mattress. But that was before consciousness had really hit her, before her brain woke up and went fuck. 

Harry had gone through the same thing about three seconds later, the jolt of Y/N’s remembrance disturbing his slumber. He’d groaned out, rolling onto his back and slinging a forearm over his eyes. Y/N peeked behind her at his bare chest rising and falling slowly. His grumbling voice had made the hairs on her arms stand up.

“Want a coffee?”

“Oh—I’ll do it, Harry.”

“No you won’t, stay there,” slinging his legs over the side of the bed and stretching his arms above his head.

She still couldn’t help but admire the broadness of his back and the way it rippled despite the suspense in the air. “Could I have a tea, please? Actually, can I just come with you?”

He’d looked back at her, dimple carving its place with a small smile. “Alright, fusspot, come on then.”

“Here you go,” Harry passed her a mug, presenting her with the handled side as if he wasn’t casually holding scalding ceramic in his hand.

It toppled out, really, nearly undecipherable as she rushed, “Thankshandsome.”

Harry brought his mug up to his lips, not quite registering what she’s said, and then he paused, “What did you just say?”

Shit, nothing, nothing. “I said thanks, Harry."

“No you didn’t, did you just call me—?”

“—It sounded weird,” a sad frown pulled at her mouth. “I want to be sweet but it sounded so stupid.”

He shook his head, tongue running along his bottom lip to stop himself cheesing. “Say it again.”

She’s flustered. “I—” Harry raised his eyebrows. “...Thank you, handsome.”

“And again?” tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

Clammy hands dragged over her eyes to try and feel invisible. “Thanks, handsome.”

A broad grin stretched out across his face, and Y/N swore she saw the hint of a blush teasing the surface of his cheeks. “I like it,” he said. “You’re welcome, darlin’.” Y/N’s face burned, a nervous roll of her lip between her teeth before Harry reached out to kiss her cheek.

“I’m sorry about yesterday, baby. Really sorry.”

“Wh—?” She grabbed his hand that had found her face, thumb stroking her chin. “Why? It was my fault, I’m sorry. I promised you. I hate that I broke it.”

“You did promise me, yeah. But I didn’t even say hello to you, sweetheart. What kind of arsehole does that? Made you feel like shit. Can’t deny it, I made you cry.”

“But I just felt bad. Because— Because I promised, and you must’ve been so hungry.”

“It was just a curry, pet. No harm done. You made a very gorgeous cake instead. And yeah, I was hungry but no one died. I don’t hate you because you made a mistake. People make mistakes—I made one hundred mistakes last night.”

“Only a few,” she smiled coyly. 

“I’m sorry. I was hungry, and I was tired, and I did all the wrong things. I upset you and it upset me and… I never w’na speak to you like that again. Will you forgive me?”

“I already had,” her voice wobbled, relief flooding her system. Harry wrapped his arms around her shoulders and buried his nose into her hair without a moment of hesitation. “I’m sorry too.”

He hummed. “You know I don’t expect you to cook and clean for me, don’t you? Don’t expect any of that.” She nodded against his chest, forehead rubbing against his bare skin. “Could roll around on the floor all day or pick pretty flowers, as long as you were happy.”

“Stop, you’re making me cry,” a wet sniffle rumbling into his chest.

“You really think I’m handsome?”

She barked out a laugh, pulling back to look into his smiling eyes. “No! I think you’re wretched!”

Now, they pratt about like two high teenagers—giggling about things that could only be funny in these very specific circumstances. Harry insists on pretending to grind on Y/N like he’s been cast in some sort of early two thousands music video, relishing in each fit of shrieky laughter he wins from her, nibbling into her neck and pulling her body into his.

“Harry! You’re supposed to be helping me pack!”

“I am helping.”

“No you’re not!” she laughs.

“Let’s finish it later,” he mumbles into the side of her face, arms squeezing around her middle promisingly. “I’m supposed to be working, you know?” Harry hasn’t set foot in his home office all day.

“You’re the boss,” she argues validly.

“Yeah, I am…” he agrees, keen to keep their bubble from popping. “Will you let me decorate your cake with you?”

Y/N spins around in his arms, face bright as she exclaims, “Yes! Oh my god, yes!”

Harry laughs. “G’na need to make some more frosting, most likely,” smiling like a menace when Y/N’s eyes widen and he can almost feel the heat rising up her face. She glances over to the bowl that is still sat on top of the dresser where Harry moved it the night before. If not for the fact that half of it was used like foundation, then it is most definitely not fresh anymore from its lack of cover.

“Come on, then,” she bites her lip, finding his hand and intertwining their fingers in a bold move of enthusiasm as she coaxes him out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

A beautifully heart shaped cake sits undisturbed on a vintage glass stand, the patterned dome warping the image underneath it. And despite the trouble that said cake caused, Y/N still bounds over to it all smiley, proud like she’s just received a first class distinction for a dissertation she’s slogged over for months.

 Harry watches her fondly, noting the way her lips form around silent words as she lists off all the things she needs to get out of the cupboards. It’s a privilege to get to see someone so comfortably in their element; to pick up on things they don’t even notice about themselves. 

She ushers him over, presenting a wooden spoon for him to take. “You can stir, muscle man,” the cheeky quip settling on Harry’s skin with a buzz as Y/N slowly pours each ingredient into a bowl. Harry does as he’s told, stirring and beating the mixture until the boss deems it good enough.

She wields the palette knife like it’s an extension of her hand, smoothing the frosting over the cake whilst Harry ‘helps’. Y/N did ask if he wanted to do it, but he couldn’t possibly do a subpar job of her favourite process. So he watches from beside her—not too close (“You make me nervous”) but close enough for moral support (“Not that far away!”)—making an effort to hold his breath in case it were to disturb her.

Cakes were never Harry’s dessert of choice but… but. Y/N’s unwavering glee is enough to make him want to request a change in the law that demands cake be granted to all. “Do you like it?” She grins, looking up at Harry to gauge his reaction. And he hardly has to over exaggerate; it is gorgeous.

“Too good to eat, that’s for sure,” he hums, holding her gaze with a twinkle in his eye.

“Wait! It’s not finished,” her face drops as she remembers, frantically hurrying to the fridge to retrieve a punnet of strawberries.

Harry should’ve known. “Nothing is ever finished without strawberries.” It’s a gentle tease, followed by a huff of laughter, shaking his head gently as she cuts them in half to place around the border of the heart, in between soft peaks of piping. 

It’s simple, and it’s sweet, and it’s lovely. Much like Y/N as she habitually holds up a fruit to Harry’s mouth, shrieking and pulling back when he purposefully nips her fingertips. He grins through a chew, fresh, sweet juice shining on his lips.

Then he turns to get some water, presenting Y/N with a perfect opportunity. As he’s filling a glass, letting his mind wander to dinner plans, “Do you fancy spag—” he turns into Y/N’s attack as she strikes. Vanilla buttercream. Vanilla buttercream splattered across his cheek and kissing his eyelashes. 

Y/N gasps, hands coming up to cover her mouth and hide her smile, so bad at pretending to be innocent. Harry says nothing, and then he trails his eyes from the floor to her face… “You little minx,” and he pounces.

The submissive yelps, reaching behind her for the counter—frantic for stabilisation as Harry’s body collides into hers. She’s drowning in giggles, out of breath from the incessance. The bottom of her spine digs into marble, hips swivelling as she desperately tries to reach the bowl. Harry’s laughing, pushing forward to rub his sugary face against hers whilst Y/N wiggles—and when he realises her intent, drops his hands to her hips and tugs her behind brutishly into his front—reaches over her back and elongates a sinewy arm to grasp what she can’t.

A clumsy hand bashes against the ceramic, his free arm wrapping around both of Y/N’s the best he can to incapacitate her as his fingers find frosting. He pulls them back, frenzied in his movements as he carelessly sullies her face, her big puffs of laughter tickling his palm. “Ah!” She squeals, head thrown back against his shoulder to try and escape Harry’s menacing paw. “Ha—ha—Harry! Sto-ho-op!”

“You love it,” he grumbles into her temple, far from irritated but his voice can’t help but dip into that velvety cadence with her body pressed so tight against his. He smushes his palm over her mouth, perfectly riled up when Y/N opens her mouth and slathers her tongue against the sticky skin.

She giggles something unattractive—though it makes Harry’s cock twitch in his sweats. “Fuckin’ love struggling like this, don’t you, doll?” And suddenly the mood shifts, Y/N’s laugh catches in her throat and she garbles out a whine instead, body relaxing in Harry’s hold.

He nudges her forward, encourages the stretch of her body over the countertop and the way her knuckles knock against the ceramic. An unconscious hum rumbles past his lips, tongue poking out to taste the sweetness Y/N left behind.

Deft fingertips tug impatiently at the denim hem of her jeans, forcing the button undone and then the zipper, shifting them down to stretch across her thighs. Y/N pants when she realises that’s all the wiggle room Harry is going to grant her. 

He pauses, “What’s your colour,” uncharacteristically out of breath, hardly poised as a question.

“Green,” Y/N whines in return, trying to wiggle her hips but Harry wraps his fingers through the back of her underwear and pulls. The fabric cuts into the crease of Y/N’s thighs and a shiver wracks through her as the force of it bounces her ass against him—against his bulge. 

His breath hits the shell of her ear as he leans over, taunting and teasing. “Gonna let me fuck you?”

“Yes,” Y/N nods, turning her cheek into the marble to feel the cold spread out across the searing flesh. Her hands form fists, nails digging into her palms—desperate to tug on something but her skin is the only option.

It’s rushed, and it’s frenetic—it’s not the way things usually go and it multiplies Y/N’s excitement tenfold. Her knees wobble without prompt and she’s not sure she’ll be able to hold this position for very long but she doesn’t think she’ll have to. Not when Harry pulls himself out of his sweatpants and slips himself under her panties and through her lips. He’s so hard already, Y/N feels herself wetten from the slightest touch; his weight and his grunt as their bodies meet completely and utterly.

But he’s teasing her, he’s… he’s—

“Harry,” it comes out all whiny and impatient—two things Y/N has never claimed not to be—but with every slant of his hips, every stroke through her arousal and bump of her clit, with her wretched knickers still on, it makes her angry. “Stop—stop teasing me!”

He jerks, unused to such commands toppling from her mouth. “Shh, be good, be quiet,” but complying regardless as he slips her panties down her thighs to stretch just like her jeans. Y/N can’t spread her legs very wide, but that doesn’t stop Harry from pushing at pulling as he pleases—one hand pressing down on her lower back, the other cupping her cunt and smearing her arousal like an artist with a paintbrush. 

Neither of them can stand the idea of foreplay right now; Y/N can feel her sad, empty hole pulsing and clenching around nothing—Harry throbs just the same, slicking her wetness up and around his dick, twisting and tugging at the tip enough to make him leak down his knuckles.

They’re wet enough, shining under the harsh kitchen lights, and yet Harry still pulls at Y/N’s ass, spreading her wide to dribble a thick line of spit onto her puckered hole. She jolts, hips grinding unceremoniously against the counter as she feels his saliva drool down to her glistening cunt and Harry’s thumb chase it. He coos and hisses at the bang, smoothing over her hip with his other hand as he starts to rub circles over her.

“Oh—!” It’s impossible not to writhe under the foreign feeling, exposed and wet, trapped by her own jeans. Her forehead falls down, clashing against the marble but Y/N hardly feels it. All she can feel is the pad of Harry’s thumb and the heat it burns into her body—the seeping between her thighs the longer he plays, and the teasing bumps and brushes of his cock against her rounded flesh.

“Shh, that’s it. Good girl.”

And she withers. She disintegrates right in front of Harry’s eyes.

“Pretty girl with a pretty ass, hm? ‘s that feel good, darlin’?”

“Mm, please I—”

“I know, shh—shh,” thudding himself against her firmly, guiding the tip up and down her slick, pushing in to watch her stretch and swallow before leaning back again. Pushing in—pulling out. His thumb applies the slightest of pressure, not enough to send panic clattering up Y/N’s spine but enough to mollify her very being. The sensation—the teasing—of intrusion without the worry of it. The taboo nature of experiencing such pleasure in such places. 

When Harry pushes in all the way, Y/N nearly collapses, whimpering into the counter. She can feel him in her fucking throat, she’s sure of it. Every ridge, every vein, the nudge of his head, his slit kissing her walls. And Harry spews all that he can without saying the words themselves.

“Love your fucking cunt, love this—fucking gorgeous body.” His voice thins out to a gravelly whisper, “Were you made just for me, sweetheart?” hips slapping against rippling flesh, palm smoothing up her back to weave into tendrils of hair as his thumb remains encircling. Y/N tries to reply; all that procures are pitiful cries of exertion, air punched out of her lungs with every thrust. “Waiting patiently for me to find you.”

It’s such a romantic sentiment that she finds herself welling up—perhaps easily understood by the overstimulation of her entire vessel but it feels deeper than that. It feels intimate irregardless of their current position. A limp hand flops against her lower back, tired elbow joints aching, searching for its partner—searching for its missing puzzle piece. And when Harry’s fingers slot into place… it forms the whole, pretty picture.

“Love, need you to—” a pause as though he’s forgotten the words as he says them. “Need you to relax. Gripping me so tight—not g’na last.”

But Harry’s sentiment calms her none, she clenches around him even tighter—suddenly tunnel visioned for one thing and one thing only. It’s an amalgamation of wet noises attempting to form syllables, “Pleasecome, pleasecome, please—” Inside, she wants it inside. 

“God, baby, you’re so wet,” Harry’s hips stutter, digits squeezing hers even tighter, thumb slipping away to slink around her front and frame two fingers on either side of her cunt, pinching her clit ever so slightly. It makes her shudder, mouth far too numb to feel the drool that strings down onto the counter.

“Mhm, mhm,” pushing back with all the strength she can muster, bum lifting to meet Harry’s pelvis. “Daddy.”

“Okay, darlin’, it’s okay. Need you to come f’me,” framing fingers coming together to form the perfect swipes over her clit—the extra stimulation she needs to just push her over the edge and send her toppling. He feels the way she starts to throb, feels the way the muscles in her legs lock, keeps rubbing to carry her through as her weak whimpers trail into wet sobs.

Y/N practically loses consciousness as her orgasm hits her; squeezes Harry’s hand so tight he hisses for reasons other than his strangled cock. Her knees buckle and her limbs lose competence. Harry moves both hands to her waist, hauling her up and onto her toes as he quickens his pace, lewd slicking and the thud of their bodies the only sounds to ever exist.

And she keeps squeezing, the aftershocks strong enough to pull Harry with her, to force him to slip out frantically before painting stripe after stripe onto her ass, her back. She shakes her head against the hard countertop—never before has she felt such a jarring loss, such a painful transition. Inside, she wanted it inside.

Harry stands behind her, slowly tugging, squeezing out every last drop onto her skin. His legs don’t quite shake like Y/N’s but the exertion, the overwhelming orgasm has his head spinning a bit. But not when he registers his submissive’s wet face, drenched in sweat and tears alike, unable to be peeled from where it lays heavily on the counter. He wisens up entirely, cooing soft, easily digestible words as he cleans her skin with a soft tissue. Swipes in between her legs slowly, careful to avoid unwanted pressure, and straightens her back as thought he might have broken it.

Her eyes are glossy, not fully present but it doesn’t bother him. She looks tired, pupils tracking his face with a lag. But tired means he’s done his job well, tired means all other thoughts fail to penetrate. 

They could do with a shower, a sleep, a good meal… but Harry can’t deny the desire to just sit with her for a moment. To untuck a less than comfortable stool and hold her on his lap, chin nestled against her neck. To kiss mindlessly along the slope of her shoulder and massage his fingers into her scalp, to have her doze off on top of him, completely void of tension.

And when she wakes up, he’ll let her eat cake for lunch.

Harry hopes he doesn’t appear too grumpy on the drive to Niall’s. He’s just… well he is grumpy, because he’s going to miss Y/N. And it dawns on him on that journey, just how much he’s going to fucking miss her.

It shouldn’t be so hard to tell her—not when he feels it so fervently. Maybe it makes Harry selfish for wanting her to say it first but he tells himself that’s why he’s waiting. Not because he’s worried but because he wants Y/N to be brave. 

And it weighs on him, every goodbye being void of those three little words. It weighs on him but it still doesn’t mean he says it any sooner. 

Y/N buzzes beside him, practically vibrating in her seat. She turns her seat warmer on, adjusts the aircon, switches the radio station, turns her seat warmer off, rummages around in Harry’s glove box for nothing in particular.

She’s nervous. She’s excited but she’s nervous—and even a blind man would be able to tell. Harry lovingly wishes he maybe could be blind, or better deaf, as she prattles on; terminally diagnosed with verbal diarrhoea as he ums and ahs to appease her. He stopped listening when she started rattling off facts about pigeons (pigeons, for Christ’s sake), focusing intently on the road alongside his own internal battles.

Harry doesn’t mean to suggest he doesn’t enjoy her borderline insanity—he does—he’s head over heels in love with her insanity. She entertains him thoroughly without even trying to and he thinks he could only list on one hand the times he hasn’t been completely endeared with her. 

But he can forgive himself for zoning about when it comes to pigeon facts, no matter how interesting it may be that the species were entirely domesticated, and then abandoned by humans.

“I need a wee,” she complains, shifting her seat belt so it stops pressing into her bladder.

“‘s alright, only five minutes away.”

“I know,” she whinges, starting to tug at the hem of her sleeve. Harry sees her incessant fiddling out of the corner of his eye, placing his upturned hand on her thigh as a silent ask for her own. Y/N takes the bait, and a calm settles over them. 

When they pull up outside Niall’s place, he’s leaning against the hood of his car, squinting at his phone. At the sound of tires over gravel he looks up and grins, elation taking over his face. And however desperate Y/N might have been to go to the bathroom, and no matter how excited her friend is, she doesn’t dare to rush getting out of the car.

She slings her arms around Harry’s neck, bidding farewell as if she’s going abroad and not just an hour away. But Harry doesn’t laugh, he hugs her back just as tight, inhaling the freshness of her skin—desperate to keep her scent with him until she gets back. He presses kisses into the side of her head, warm palm rubbing her lower back—usually he might be reassuring her with gentle words but right now he can’t find it within himself to do so.

He doesn’t want her to go.

And he’s a grown, adult man—not some lovesick teenager. She’s going for three days. THREE. But Harry still hasn’t said I love you and each departure feels more and more dangerous.

“You’re gonna have such a lovely time,” he pulls back to kiss her cheek and her lashes flutter like little butterfly wings. A knuckle down the bridge of her nose and teasingly flicking underneath to make her giggle. “Text me when you arrive, okay?”

“Yeah,” she hums, less than subtly leaning in, hoping he’ll kiss her like they do in the movies. An incapacitating kind of kiss. And Harry delivers like it’s his profession, devouring hands overwhelming in their cradle of her head, directing her movements as he teases the corner of her mouth with a gentle press of his lips. He wishes he could take more time. He wishes Niall weren’t right outside the fucking window probably simpering at the sight. He wishes he could give her more than just a chaste sponging of their mouths, followed by a flurry of departing pecks. 

He wishes he could just say the fucking words.

A knock sounds from behind Harry’s head—knuckles on glass—and the muffled sound of Niall’s teasing, “Get a move on, you two! We’ve got to leave today,” and Harry meets Y/N’s gaze, rolling his eyes obnoxiously whilst she laughs. Their bubble has been popped, and she’s opening the car door, bounding over to her friend all foolishly as she playfully berates him. Harry’s mouth curls up into a small smile, sliding out of the car and silently getting Y/N’s suitcase whilst amusedly shaking his head.

He even gets a coy, “Thanks, handsome,” a twinkle in Y/N’s eye as she embarrasses herself in front of Niall to make Harry’s heart jump. The two men hug and pat one another on the back, exchanging pleasantries and agreeing that it’s been too long. But it’s unnecessary to hang around, and Niall makes some comment about how he needs to take care of something he’d nearly forgotten, so Harry pulls himself away and tries not to watch Y/N in the rearview mirror as he pulls back out onto the road.

It follows him around for the rest of the day, his lack of courage, of flexibility. The fact that a more than capable CEO—a dominant—couldn’t say I love you to his partner. He’s not embarrassed, no it runs deeper than insecurity, but he’s frustrated. And Harry has never been irrational but perhaps Y/N has been rubbing off on him because he finds himself starting to panic.

What if there’s an accident? There’s an accident and Harry never gets to tell her… He has to stop those thoughts before he finds himself calling her up to demand her life status, and then again thirty minutes later, and another thirty minutes. But it’s not so irrational, he can’t help but believe. Accidents happen all the time—and Harry can’t stand going any longer without telling her how bleak his life would be without her.

It doesn’t help to scroll through social media. A fucking philosophy. Not when life starts showing you godforsaken signs. A friend getting married here, a newborn baby there. Everyone coupled up and happy—basking in love without boundaries. Love without hesitation and fear. Harry wants to give that to Y/N. He has that love for Y/N, and he’s positive she has it for him too.

So he exits out of Instagram and starts to look through his own personal social media—his camera roll. Harry has more photos on his phone of Y/N than he does his parents, his sister, his friends. The folder he’s titled simply with her name holds a number of images that might indicate he harbours strong feelings for the girl.

In their short but staggering relationship, thus far, Harry has taken seventy two photographs of Y/N. More if he were to count the ones he deleted after a panicked spam to capture the moment before it passed. He swipes through them slowly—one of Y/N asleep in his bed, naked back pretty in the morning light. One of her sitting across from him at their favourite café, caught off guard in an authentic smile that he can never get out of her when he asks her to pose. He treasures that one. A photo of her laying on lucious grass, arms and legs spread out like she is trying to make some sort of snow angel without the snow. A photo of her wet from the pool, droplets littering her skin as she sunbathes unaware—and then a subsequent photo of when she spotted Harry with his phone directed at her, and scrunched her nose up in disgust. He’d looked at that one for ages.

He wonders what she’s doing now. Knows they arrived not long ago, from her bubbly text message adorned in exclamation marks and emojis. Wishes he could’ve seen her reaction when they pulled up outside the place—a luxury health spa. The perfect place for a neurotic who has an affinity for smelling and feeling nice. She had sent him screenshots; the reaction she’d had over text when Niall admitted to her how he’d booked their visit.

Y/N this room is incredible omg how did you get us in here with such short notice?

Niall right??? don’t need a spa just need this bedroom I BOOKED IT IN HARRY’S NAME LOL no I’m kidding, I’m kidding… okay, I’m not kidding but I phoned him straight afterwards I knew he’d be fine with it  I paid him for my room and stuff don’t worry desperate times called for desperate measures and I knew his name would get us a stay

Y/N NIALL YOU ARE INSANE YOU CAN’T DO THAT how did you have his card details what the hell??? actually don’t tell me i don’t want to be liable by association when you get arrested or whatever

Niall aiding and abetting? is what it’s called, I think ANYWAY YOU WORRY TOO MUCH HARRY IS FINE WITH IT now HURRY UP!!!!! I want to go the in hot tub 😋 in the*

She’d followed the photos up with thank you, harry. wish you were here to enjoy it too x—and it had only made him miss her more.

Y/N and Niall's luxurious long weekend goes by too quickly. And despite her words being true—that she wished Harry could be with them—Niall, unsurprisingly keeps Y/N wonderfully distracted. It’s a relief that she hasn’t become insufferable since dating someone. That she hasn’t turned into one of those people who bring up their partner in every. single. conversation. That she’s not just moping around waiting to go home and ruining Niall’s enjoyment. Y/N actually finds herself to be… content. 

Yes, she misses Harry. She misses sleeping in his bed, in his arms. She misses walking into a room and seeing him just existing. But it doesn’t stop her from lounging in the hot tub with Niall and giggling over gossip. It doesn’t stop her from going to a pilates class and instantly regretting it. It doesn’t stop her from getting a massage so good she nearly falls asleep—although she may admit to pretending the woman administering the massage is in fact her dominant, with suddenly much smaller hands—but that’s neither here nor there.

And when Monday morning rolls around, she’s loose-limbed and fresh-faced—and very much excited about seeing Harry again. What she doesn’t know is that he’s been excited about seeing her again since he dropped her off… and is having the closest thing to a mental breakdown over their lack of communication. 

He wakes up disgruntled; a night of tossing and turning and bags slowly procuring under his eyes. He wakes up and showers. He eats and he glances over his emails. He’ll be ‘working’ from home today, without a doubt. 

It feels as though the only thing that can capture his attention is the clock—each hand ticking slower than the last. Y/N won’t be home until midday at least, but Harry can’t find himself able to concentrate on anything else.

It seems the universe has it out for him, when he switches the television on and Y/N’s favourite rom com blares through the speakers. During her favourite scene, of course. He wants to switch it off—not through distaste but through yearing—through painful reminder. But he can’t; not only because he adores the movie too but because the scene in which Y/N loves so much is just that. The climax of the film, the moment everybody has been waiting for—the love confession.

“For fuck’s sake,” he curses to the empty room. Because it’s typical, isn’t it? That coincidence would strike at this moment in time. That out of all the channels and all the TV shows, the films that could’ve been on at eleven thirty on a Monday morning, it’s this one. He doesn’t really watch it. He’s seen it enough times to know what happens. But it helps him decide something. It helps him ignore any and all previous stances on the matter—fuck making her say it first. 

Harry knows she loves him and he gets in his car to tell her so, leaving the television murmuring quietly—two besotted characters lost in an embrace to the sound of his front door clicking shut.

Niall drops Y/N home at approximately the same time Harry leaves his. Of course, Y/N doesn’t know this, and she would’ve appreciated a warning—maybe the chance to have a cup of tea and unpack her case first. But she’s feeling vibrantly recuperated—thoroughly pampered and sucked into the blissful dreamworld of a weekend at a spa, and it hardly crosses her mind to question why Harry turns up so chaotically.

Why he knocks on her door instead of just coming straight in, why he tugs her into him as though she’s just been rescued, why he pulls back just to ask a less than sensical question. "Why won't you say it to me?"

Perplexed silence. Y/N's fingertips linger on the door handle as she tumbles back from his embrace, her gait once relaxed and happy—now stiff and unsure. Somewhere in the back of her mind she thinks Harry’s just wasted all of his money paying for that long weekend.

"Harry?" It hasn't clicked yet, what he's talking about, but it still sits heavy in her gut—heavy and unanswered.

"Why won't you say it, darling?" He looks desperate... it doesn't compliment him well; it makes Y/N nervous. Harry is a suit without creases, shining shoes, perfect hair kind of man, but right now he vibrates on her doorstep in two day old sweats and hand combed locks. In fact, he can't seem to keep his fingers out of those runnels—creating new ones with each breath Y/N's voice fails to break the silence.

"Say what?" She practically begs it. Say what? Please, please, please. Tell me, let it be okay, let it be simple. "I'll say anything you want, Harry," it doesn't evade her that perhaps she should hear him out first. But it's as she whispers the commitment that she realises it. That she would say anything he wanted to hear… for Harry, Y/N would perform absurdities.

Usually shimmering jade now refuses to glisten in the light, green from a marsh or a bog. Y/N misses the viridescence. Harry releases a breath, lashes swatting heavily against his under eye. "You know, you— I need you to know."

And then… suddenly, she does. Suddenly, she’s kidding herself if she pretends she doesn’t know. It clicks—it clicks and Y/N’s heart stutters. This is cruel of Harry, so cruel. He sent her away to relax and now he’s setting up something fanciful just to make a mockery of her.

“That’s not fair,” she wobbles, in word and posture. Her knees start to feel weak, her chest tightens, the image of Harry before her—still hovering outside—starts to thicken. Y/N takes a step back, and Harry one forward. He shuts the door behind him, free from the chill of the wind, now trapped inside.

“Not fair? What do you mean?”

This—this isn’t how Harry talks, this exasperation, this urgency. He takes care of her, he tells her what she means when she speaks. Y/N doesn’t figure that out on her own. Harry always… he always knows. Why doesn’t he know?

Y/N turns her back on him when the corners of her eyes start to burn. A pathetic breakdown of emotion, she thinks. “You must know I’ve just been waiting… waiting for the day. Been so patient, my love. Please talk to me.”

“I can’t,” her words swallow one another, throat thick and wet. 

Harry rushes round to see her, his eyebrows uncomfortably pulled towards the centre of his face. There’s a migraine brewing behind his eyes. “Yes, you can. You can, darling,” chilled palms hold her head up. Y/N wants to shake them off but the temptation is smothered the mere second it arrives. “What are you so afraid of? S’just me.”

“Can’t—can’t… can’t,” scalding tears tip over her waterline, streaming down and over the knuckles of Harry’s thumbs as they brush over her quivering cheeks. She inhales a shaky, shallow breath. “Need you. Need to keep it—this—safe.”

“Why wouldn’t it be safe, Y/N?”

“I’ll ruin it, I’ll—I’m not—” she closes her eyes, “You can’t possibly—”

“—Love you?”

The mere suggestion of it punches the air from her lungs. Despite the fact he’s not saying it to her, it might as well have the same effect. She shakes her head, dislodging a tear.

“I love you, Y/N.” She shakes her head harder. “I love you so much.”

“No,” it’s a thick, ugly cry. “You can’t, I’m— I’m no good, I’m annoying.”

And Harry… Harry does something borderline offensive. Harry laughs in her face. He laughs loudly and he laughs boldly, carving out a crease in between Y/N’s eyebrows.

“I love you,” he says again. And he feels so, so miraculously light, after fretting over it for so long. After hearing her only excuse be that she doesn’t feel deserving of it… well. Harry doesn’t think that’s so hard to help her with, after all. “I love you.”

“Stop,” she weeps, face begging to hide but Harry’s hands hold it up. He’s just a blur before her.

“Hey, hey,” the pads of his thumbs are soaked but that doesn’t stop him from trying to wipe her face. “Look at me—come on, pretty girl, that’s it.” Y/N can feel her bottom lip wobbling. “Do you remember… a few weeks ago, when you were upset—”

Y/N snorts—she can’t help herself—the self-loathe overrules.

“—Oi. Yes, I know, don’t say it. You were upset and you accidentally dropped that plate, yeah? You remember? And I bought you flowers and you felt bad the next day because you didn’t notice?”

Yes. Yes, she remembers that. She’d felt so bad. So embarrassed when she’d asked him where they’d come from, and he’d admitted he wanted to give them to her yesterday when he got home. Too wrapped up in her own despair to realise—too selfish, and dramatic, and ridiculous—

“Hey—don’t think about it, I’m not— I mean,” he stops and sighs, rakes his hand through the back of her hair. “I buy you flowers with meaning, yeah? Yellow tulips, white gardenias…” Y/N nods slowly, confused but fond of the memory of those yellow tulips indefinitely. “Those flowers I bought a few weeks ago… they were red roses, baby. They symbolise love—they mean I love you. And I was going to tell you if you’d asked but… well, it didn’t happen—And I’m not blaming you, I’m not, but I can’t not say it anymore. And I need you to want to say it back to me darling.”

Y/N starts crying again—she never exactly stopped but the tears had paused momentarily to allow Harry his room to speak. But now? Now they’re under no semblance of control. She paws at his t-shirt, words garbled but he knows what she’s saying, “I love you, Harry. I love you s-so much,” and it’s never sounded more beautiful. It’s a mess, and it’s far from romantic—snot and tears coalescing into one big disaster—but Harry still kisses her.

He kisses her and he smiles, laughing when she laughs through her sobs—saying it over, and over, and over again. “I love you,” he whispers, and she echoes it back through waves of emotion. “You’re it for me, you know that?” And Y/N can’t bear to hear it. She’ll still struggle to believe him, for many months to come, they’re both sure.

“But—” she pulls back, swipes furiously at her face with no impact, “—the roses— they died, Harry. Does that mean your love died with them?” It’s a ridiculous notion; of course Harry laughs. “Shut up!”

“I didn’t say anything!” He’s grinning, and Y/N can’t help but mirror his expression. How could she stop her lips from twitching upwards at such a sight? Harry tugs her to his chest, squeezes her so tight she might just get stuck there, and holds her for as long as it takes for their heartbeats to return to normal.

And when they do, he tucks his lips against the top of her head and asks, “Does this mean you’ll quit your job now?”

Y/N takes a moment to ponder her reply… and then he… he feels her smile into his chest before she leans back and looks up with the prettiest, cheekiest, little grin, “Maybe,” ducking out of his embrace and starting to slowly waddle backwards, “if you can catch me.”

Harry doesn’t even do her the courtesy of a head start.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles one shots #harry styles blurbs #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #domrry #writing #mutually beneficial #dom!harry

[dragon-ascent]

Paraphernalia

You are an avid collector of Rex lapis merch...and your husband is Rex Lapis himself.

★彡fluff, fun stuff, zhongli finds you amusing as always

Zhongli had revealed his identity to you much before you two had gotten married. You’d been very respectful and told him how much you admired him as both a man and a deity...but oh boy, if Zhongli thought that was where your devotion ended, he was in for a long ride.

“Oh my freaking gosh! Eeeee!”

At your squeal, Zhongli is immediately at your side. “What is the matter- ah.” He sees the pamphlet you’re holding and suddenly it all clicks into place. 

You clutch your husband’s arm, barely able to contain yourself. “New Rex Lapis plushie launching tomorrow! Eeeee! Let’s go down to the store as soon as it opens!”

Zhongli kisses your forehead, his heart fluttering at your enthusiasm. “Allow me to take a look.” He gently takes the pamphlet from your hands and peruses it, then looks up at the bed you two share...where you also keep your enormous pile of Rex Lapis plushies. “Erm...dear, what is different about this new one?”

“Look!” You point at what the new plushie is holding. “It comes with a free Mora coin plush! I haaaaave to get it!”

It’s worth it, really. There’s nothing Zhongli cherishes more than seeing you happy. And when he finds you the next day curled up in bed, napping away with your brand-new Rex Lapis plushie pressed to your chest, he finds his heart melting like the sweetest chocolate on a summer day.

Of course, with how fanatical you get sometimes, you get so caught up in all your Rex Lapis paraphernalia that you almost forget who Zhongli really is...

“I’m doomed! I have blasphemed!”

“Did you sit on the lap of one of the Statues of the Seven again, dear?” Zhongli inquires without even looking up from the morning paper. “I told you, it does not count as-”

“Even worse! The new glow-in-the-dark Rex Lapis keychains are all sold out and I missed my chance to buy them!”

At this, Zhongli gazes at you sympathetically as you huff and puff around the room, equal parts agitated and distressed. He knows how much your collection means to you. “I see. Well, you can get one when they restock, can you not?”

“No way!” you cry out, staring at Zhongli like he had just grown horns and a tail. “The restocked keychains will be B-grade ones! I need to own only first-edition, top-quality merch!”

“Ah. Oh dear...” 

“What would Rex Lapis think?” you wail, flopping into your husband’s sturdy arms. “Rex Lapis, what do you think of me?”

“I don’t think ill of you, darling, I never could,” Zhongli assures, planting a soft kiss to your temple. “I still love you regardless of how many Rex Lapis-themed items you possess.”

“You’re just saying that to be nice!”

Zhongli chuckles. “I’m saying that because I love you, and married you for love. I never once wondered how many keychains in my image you obtained before I slid the ring onto your finger.”

Your lip wobbling, you ask, “Do you really mean it?”

“Of course I do, my beloved,” he answers softly, kissing the spot under your ear and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Come now, let me show you just how much.”

Of course, even when he offers you tender, affectionate consolation, Zhongli still ultimately wants to see you at your happiest. So wherever he can, he tries to pull some strings~

“Darling,” Zhongli calls after a long day of work. “I’m home!”

“Welcome home!” You run over to him and give him a peck on the lips. “How was your day?”

“Quite eventful,” he answers, “especially since I managed to procure a very important item.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “An important item? What is it?”

Zhongli smiles, holding out both of his hands, fists closed. “I shall let you find out.”

Utterly intrigued, you look at both closed fists, trying to gauge which one has the item. It must be quite small to fit in his palm...what important item could be that small? 

Pushing away the question since it was sure to be answered within a few moments, you go with your gut and pick the right hand. Zhongli’s smile widens and he opens his palm...

Gasping, you let out a squeal. “Is this...what I think it is?!”

“The very same.” 

Still in disbelief, you take the keychain and observe its details. “It - it really is a first edition glow-in-the-dark Rex Lapis keychain...oh my gosh...but how..?”

Zhongli pulls you into a hug, chuckling at they way you seem to vibrate in his arms in excitement. “I managed to get ahold of a scalper and...persuade him to sell it to me at regular price.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You beam, singing his praises while waving the keychain around happily. “I love Rex Lapis sooooo much!”

Your husband kisses you, practically glowing at your happiness. “Rex Lapis loves you too, my beloved.”

#zhongli #genshin impact #zhongli x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #sini writes #zhongli x you #fluff #drabble #rex lapis

[sugumii]

Hello Suga! I read several of your posts about HSR and really love them! They made my heart flutter uhh help 💘✨ I want to read more of your work, so I have an idea: "It seems your lips are a bit dry. Here, let me moisture them for you ❤" by Jing Yuan and Blade (or the more the merrier) pretty please 🙏 🥹 Arigathank you gozaimuch 💃 Luv to U ✨✨❤

HSR Men- "Your lips are a bit dry... let me moisturize them for you.":

Of course, you're my first request so I included others and decided to make two more romancey to spoil you. Enjoy and feel free to request more. Also, thank you for requesting, it means a lot to me! Have an amazing day/night. Love to you as well!

Jing Yuan:

Jing Yuan sighed leaning his back into the plush, velvety chair. Mountains of paperwork littered his desk as well as proposals from businessmen who wanted his approval for future projects. In the distance, he heard Fu Xuan barking orders and formulating strategic plans to combat enemies. The male oh so desperately wanted to take a break and see his beloved, but it would appear he still had much work to do.

Just then, a knock was heard at his office door. He groaned internally, wondering who else was here to give him more work, and he shouted a stern, "Come in." The door opened as he looked towards the unexpected visitor only to light up once he saw who it was- it was you, his darling s/o. Jing Yuan’s eyebrows raised inconspicuously as he came to an immediate stand, quickly walking towards his lover.

You smiled at him, arms full with the bento boxes you had made for him. You knew your husband would be too occupied with work to remember to eat lunch, so you took the initiative to prepare something for him. Shutting the door softly with one foot, you spoke and greeted him warmly.

“Apologies for intruding, love, but I just wanted to bring you some food as I know my general is hard at wor-“

You were interrupted by large arms embracing your smaller frame and a face burying into your neck. You flushed at the unexpected act of affection but embraced it nonetheless. You giggled at the feeling of his fluffy hair tickling your neck.

“Well, well what’s this all about my love? Missed me?” You teased.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, love.” The general replied back, continuing to bury his face into you, and inhaled softly. You smelled of sweets and perfume, a scent that always comforted him. It never failed to make him feel safe despite the strong urge to protect you. You smiled at his words and ushered him to take the bentos.

“ I would love to hug you back my dear, but I cannot since my hands appear to be full at the moment come on, let’s eat.”

He leaned back with a soft smile on his face and gratefully took both bentos with one hand. You grabbed his hand and attempted to make your way to sit at his desk, however, he pulled you back before you could continue. You made a noise of surprise at his sudden actions.

"Wha-?!"

"My beloved..." Jing Yuan murmured, leaning his face down closer to yours. Your cheeks flushed pink at his actions. Just what was this man thinking?

"Jing Yuan..."

His gaze suddenly shifted to your lips as he licked his hungrily. He leaned in slowly, holding you close to his firm body. Your chests were pressed together as he held you lovingly.

"Your lips look a bit dry, my love... have you been so busy preparing this marvelous meal for me that you forgot to care for them? Let me fix that..."

With that, his lips captured yours in a gentle and loving kiss. Your blush worsened at the feeling of his lips moving together with yours almost in sync. The way he held and kissed you was like he was cherishing every moment with you. His hands moved down to rest on your waist as he deepened the kiss, tilting his head to the side. His tongue mischievously licked at your bottom lip, causing your mouth to part in surprise. He took advantage and slipped his tongue into your mouth for a brief moment before pulling back with a slight smirk.

"Now then, shall we enjoy our meal together, hm, love?"

Blade:

"Blade, what do you think about this?" You smiled, twirling around in your new outfit.

"Looks good."

You and your boyfriend were both currently in your room. Your stoic lover leaned and rested against the wall, eyeing you curiously. He was dressed in his usual attire while you were showing off the new outfit you had recently bought for your date. He remained as expressionless as usual, save for the minor soft look in his eyes.

Your expression brightened at his reply and you ran to hug him, enlightened at the compliment he had given you.

"Thank you, darling! I'm glad you like it. I bought it specifically for our date today." He slowly returned the hug, secretly admiring your happy expression. The way you looked up at him made his heart skip a beat, something he never thought he'd be able to feel again. You were truly his angel slowly saving him from his darkness. He never told you, but he was incredibly grateful to have met someone as amazing as you. 

"You're beautiful no matter what you wear. Are you ready to go?"

"Ah, yes! Let me just apply some chapstick before we go." You hummed and attempted to pull away from him. Before you could, however, the raven-haired male grabbed your waist and pulled you in closer to him. You looked up at him with a confused and flustered expression, not used to him being so bold. Blade cleared his throat as his topaz-colored eyes locked onto your lips. He smirked and licked his lips hungrily.

"Don't need it. Let me help you."

With that, his lips captured yours in a deep and tender kiss. You closed your eyes and kissed him back shyly, feeling him smirk. He licked at your lips hungrily, then bit down on your bottom lip without warning. Your mouth opened as you gasped, lips parting as you felt Blade slip his tongue into your entrance, invading every inch of your mouth. You blushed darkly and opened your eyes in surprise, only to lock eyes with his. Blade kept eyeing your expression the entire kiss, loving every inch of expression you had to offer.

With that, the navy-haired male pulled back with a string of saliva connecting you two. He smirked smugly before muttering.

"Done. Let's go."

Sampo:

Sampo Koski. A silver tongues “salesman” who is often seen profiting off his poor victims. Well, “customers” as he likes to refer to them.

Unironically, his first meeting with you had been from him attempting to engage in small talk with you. He had seen how well you dressed and how eloquently you had conversed with others, ultimately deducing that you came from a rather wealthy family. And so, he approached you and complimented your outfit, coaxing you into revealing some valuable information about yourself. Your big, e/c eyes stared up at him wide with innocence and curiosity, at least what he believed, as he felt his heart flutter.

The way those beautiful lips spoke and how your voice was as smooth as honey, he knew he was in trouble. He never felt his heart beat so fast, aside from running from the captain of the Silvermane guards, and it was exciting. Thrilling, even.

After learning your name and becoming acquainted with you, he offered you his business card with his contact information listed on it. He told you if you ever needed a sweet deal or some intel, he’d happily do so for a cheap price. You scoffed jokingly at this and with that, he winked and went on his way, a faint blush coating his cheeks.

Weeks went by and as did constant “coincidental” interactions with him. You found that whenever you went into the city, you always seemed to run into him. May it be from him attempting to gain more clients or hiding from Gepard, you saw him everywhere. His emerald eyes would always meet yours and a conversation would strike, though it was mostly him attempting to persuade you to strike a deal with him. Eventually, a relationship blossomed the closer you got and you found his presence to be comforting despite his sketchy business.

It was just another day of walking through town and eyeing trinkets in the store windows, however, this time Sampo walked alongside you rather than being elsewhere.

Together, the both of you walked hand in hand as he wore a dazzling grin. He kept sneaking glances at you, admiring the way your hair blew in the wind and the way you walked with an air of confidence. He squeezed your hand softly, causing your attention to turn toward him.

You watched as his eyes held a look of mischief and his smile got bigger.

“Sampo? Is there something you need hon?” You asked, watching in mild amusement and curiosity as you watched your lover’s smile turn into a smug look. Uh oh.

“Ya know, Y/n… I’ve been meanin’ to tell ya somethin’. Somethin’ of valuable information, you see.”

You stared at him with a blank expression, already knowing where this was going. Sampo noticed your change in demeanor and quickly added, “Free of charge for my lover, of course.”

“What would that be, hmm?”

Sampo grinned and led you to a nearby bench, sitting down as you followed suit. He casually leaned back and put an arm behind you.

“Well, you see, The Sampo Koski, with his ever so attentive eyes, noticed you buying a new product from a certain rival of mine, more specifically, a chapstick. Tsk, tsk, and I thought I was your only love! I feel betrayed, Y/n. If you needed a new one you coulda’ just asked me!”

Your eyebrows lifted in mirth and a smile coated your features. Laughter threatened to escape your throat as you eyed your boyfriend in amusement. Was he really jealous that you bought an item from someone else? A chapstick, nonetheless?

“But this is one of my favorite products from him. I like the way he makes it, it keeps my lips from getting dry.”

“Ah-ah, wrong! His formula ain’t that good, besides…”

Sampo’s face leaned in closer to yours while his eyes shifted down toward your lips. Your face flushed slightly at his proximity but your eyes never left him. He examined your lips and sighed playfully, bringing a hand up to your chin.

“They still look a bit dry to me! If you had told me, I coulda gotten them nice and moisturized way better and for a cheaper price.”

“What are you implying, Koski?” You asked with a blush, watching as his hand tilted your head and he pulled you in closer. Your eyes fluttered close, already knowing what was coming next.

“Your lips look a bit dry… I could moisturize them, free of charge of course.”

With that, he closed the distance between you two as his lips locked with yours. He kissed you a bit roughly, tongue swiping over your lips sneakily. You let out a small gasp and pulled back, blushing profusely and lightly scolding your cocky boyfriend.

“Koski! We’re in public!”

“Just as the great Sampo Koski thought.” He smirked confidently, leaning back into the bench. “His chapstick doesn’t even compare to mine! False advertising! I, on the other hand, would never scam you like that. Like my services? I just moisturized your lips free of charge.”

Welt:

You were lying down on the bed in your shared bedroom, scrolling mindlessly through your phone in boredom. You were waiting on your lover, Welt, to return from his mission in Jarilo-VI. It was a minor one, just quickly paying a visit and checking on the damage the Stellaron had caused, nothing more.

Suddenly, you phone pinged- a new message popped up. You saw it was from your beloved and grinned excitedly, quickly tapping on the notification.

“Dear, I just completed the mission. It went smoothly. On the way to the Express, I passed through the town and saw something that reminded me of you. I hope you like it.”

Your heart fluttered at the thoughtful message, internally thanking the eons for blessing you with such a wonderful boyfriend. You eagerly typed back and replied to his message.

“Ah, that’s good to hear that everything went well! Aww, you shouldn’t have dear. Thank you, I look forward to seeing your gift! :)”

You got another notification almost immediately and smiled at his reply. He mentioned he would be back in a few minutes and to please wait patiently for him in your shared room. You continued lying down on the bed, swinging your legs excitedly as you waited for your boyfriend’s return. Moments later, you heard the door open as he came walking in, his stressed facial expression turning into a loving one upon seeing you.

Instantly, you leaped off the bed and pounced onto him, hugging him tightly. He laughed softly and wrapped his lean arms around you, embracing you gently as if you were made of porcelain. Placing a gentle kiss on your head, he smiled.

“I’m back, dear. It seems my beloved missed me.”

“I did! I missed you soooo much. Now, what did you get me? I’m so excited to open it!”

“Ah, yes. I have it right here. Here you are, dear. I hope you like it.”

With that he handed you a small shopping bag he had been carrying in his left hand, watching with a smile as you eagerly sat down on the bed and began opening it. He joined you, taking a seat right beside you as you pulled out its contents.

“Woah!” You gasped, admiring the gifts he had gotten you. The bag consisted of countless expensive face products such as different expensive brands of makeup, skin care products, hair products, and even an assorted variety of chapsticks that recently came out. You had been complaining about the cold weather making your lips more chapped, and so your lover had gone out of his way and graciously bought some products he thought you’d appreciate.

Welt studied your expression, pleased with the massive smile gracing your features. “Is it to your liking, my dear?”

“I love them so much! Thank you, dear!” You exclaimed, hugging said the older male tightly. He chuckled at your reaction and hugged you back.

“Why don’t you try one of the chapsticks? They were recently released in stores and have been selling out rather quickly.”

“Alright, I will!"

You grabbed the small box of various chapsticks and contemplated which flavor to pick from. Eventually, you settled on the cherry one and opened it, quickly applying it to your lips. It smelled delicious, it even tasted faintly of cherries as well. Welt watched you lovingly as you applied the product with ease and smacked your lips quietly.

“It’s amazing! My lips feel moist already. Thank you Welt!”

“One moment, love. You missed a spot. Let me help you.”

“Huh?”

Welt gently took the chapstick from you and opened it. One hand grabbed your chin, tilting your face upwards towards him as he began to apply the product to his lips instead of yours making your face contort to a confused look.

“What are you-?”

Lips soon met yours in a gentle, tender kiss as you felt his now moisturized lips cover yours entirely. He moved his lips to coat every inch of yours with the remaining product he wore, allowing you to kiss him back. Eventually, you pulled back in a daze at his bold move. His smile remained gentle and loving as he apologized, grabbing your hands and placing kisses on them.

“Apologies, my dear. Your lips were a bit dry on the spot you had missed. I just wanted to ensure you had a thorough application of the product.”

#honkai star rail #hsr #blade honkai star rail #blade x y/n #blade x reader #blade x you #blade honkai #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #hsr jing yuan #sampo honkai #sampo x reader #sampo koski #welt x reader #welt yang #hsr welt #hsr blade #hsr sampo #jing yuan x y/n #hsr blade x reader #jing yuan x you #sampo x you #welt x you #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x y/n #hsr imagines #fanfic #blade x male reader

[yourfavepookiebear]

How would malleus, rook, vil, epel, and riddle react to a male yandere reader? Let’s say that the reader just gave them a love letter with a blood stain ?

Okie dokie pookie I have 15 minutes to write this before my next class so hold on tight, this is gonna be a wild ride !

Rook

Already had his suspicions that you're a yandere but didn't outright make it obvious that he knew, even though he made no effort to hide it

He accepted the letter, and thanked you for it, flashing you his usual bright smile

Did not question whose blood it was, he probably already knew that's why he didn't question anything

"My, How romantique of you, thank you very much, I shall cherish this."

Riddle

first of all, he is flabbergasted, speechless, dumbfounded, at a loss for words, just blankly staring at you with wide eyes.

Then after a moment he finally recomposes himself and accepts the love letter.

Asks you whose blood it is and why it's on the letter.

Stares at you suspiciously, clearly aware there's something very wrong here.

Depending on the answer you give he will either just politely leave, interrogate you, or "Off with your head !!"

Vil

Also flabbergasted (2.0)

"Is that...blood ?"

Will definitely interrogate you or something, it depends.

Is very suspicious of you, already suspects you've most likely done something very bad.

Politely accepts the love letter, you can't tell if he actually reciprocates the feeling or is just being polite.

Probably asks Rook to investigate a bit, after you left

Epel

"Hell yeah !! did you beat someone's ass ??"

"Go bad bitch go bad bitch go !" Kinda thing, thinks you just beat someone up. (I mean, you did, but also more than that.)

No further context needed. Lmfao

Malleus

Immediately knows it's blood, but doesn't question it.

He accepts it wholeheartedly and also asks you out while he's at it. With the advice of grandpa Lilia

Is actually more worried for you,

asks you not to do anything hurtful/harmful to yourself, whether it's harming someone for him, or fighting.

I don't really know how to explain it so i hope you get what I mean lmao

#disney twisted wonderland #yandere reader #male reader #yandere male reader #rook hunt #rook hunt x male reader #vil shoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #epel felmier #epel felmier x reader

[sallymareeq]

Under the Willow Tree

⚠️18+ [Minors DNI]⚠️

Summary:

"He moved a hand to your face, caressing your smooth cheek, and in that moment the world disappeared." A picnic under the willow tree with your "best friend" Todd. sappy lovey romantic poetic smut ok this will def become a series

Notes:

reader can be any race and weight as long as they are not bald :) comments are highly appreciated

It had been a year since the Welton Henley Hall merge and you had been living on the new west wing of the ‘strictly girls’ boarding houses for a while. Through classes you had finally made friends with boys you found respectable. You had your little group, Neil, Knox, Poppy, Charlie, Meeks and Pitts, Cameron, you and Todd.

You and Poppy had been the first to join Mr Keatings english class and she, being the extrovert she is, immediately connected with the horniest boy in the room, Dalton. Through being dragged along on awkward dates you did get to know Charlie and thankfully also his wingman Neil. Through Neil and Charlie you were introduced to the rest of the poets.

You began forming a connection with all of them, helping Neil rehearse for his plays because you loved to watch him act, working on a radio with Meeks and Pitts, going on walks with Knox to pick flowers, and getting study tips from Cameron.

But the time you cherished the most was the time you spent reading and writing and talking with Todd. Todd, like you, had a shy exterior, you had to be introduced by friends and at first your conversations were awkward and stilted, punctuated by furtive glances and blushed cheeks but eventually you just clicked. Todd soon became your best friend and you each saw a side of each other no one else had.

Late afternoons you would read Whitman under a willow tree in a hidden patch of the forest, sometimes Todd would get up and start dancing and laughing as he read, grabbing you by the hands to spin you around until you both tumbled over. One of Todd's favorite activities though was listening to you sing. Once he found out you could, he spent a week begging you to sing him something, even a little, until you finally agreed, under the condition that you got to play with his smooth, dirty blonde hair.

You had always wondered what it felt like, it always looked so soft and clean. So one warm Saturday afternoon, sitting on a blanket under the willow, Todd slowly lay his head in your skirt as you began to sing. An old gospel song you had learnt in sunday school, years ago,

As I went down in the river to pray Studying about that good old way And who shall wear the robe and crown Good Lord, show me the way.

Todds eyelashes fluttered shut as you ran your fingers back through his hair, reveling in its softness,

O brothers let's go down Let's go down, come on down Come on brothers let's go down Down in the river to pray

A soft smile crossed his rosy lips and you began to notice the light dusting of freckles against his alabaster skin.

As I went down in the river to pray Studying about that good old way And who shall wear the starry crown Good Lord, show me the way.

You stopped singing as Todd sat up, twisting so you faces were inches apart, his hair was messy, his lips slightly parted and his blue eyes were clouded with love. His hands were either side of you against the tree in an almost protective position and in a slow, dream-like trance you raised your hand to feel his cheek with your thumb. His skin was soft and warm and connecting to it like this stirred something inside you. He continued to breathe, staring longingly into your eyes as you moved your fingers across to his lips, so soft and inviting, his warm breath brushing your fingers. He moved a hand to your face, caressing your smooth cheek, and in that moment the world disappeared. You saw, as if from a bird's-eye view, two young lovers under a willow tree, body’s so close they shared the same air. A boy with his blue sweater, unbuttoned collar peeking out the top and khaki pants. A girl, her hair tied with a bow, wearing the boy's oversized cable knit sweater and a small skirt. You watched for a moment, admiring how perfect they looked together until you heard, or rather felt your name whispered against your lips.

‘Y/N’ the poet breathed ‘can i’ he glanced down at your rosy lips ‘may i kiss you?’

Your lips met fully as you fell into his warmth, he tasted like sunset and home. You lifted your chin as he pulled you in, gently placing a hand on the small of your back, pressing you as close as possible. You arched into him as you deepened the kiss longing to feel more of him, your hands moving from his warm chest to his soft hair. It felt like flying, kissing Todd Anderson, so gentle and yet so firm, so sweet and so lustful, a dance in perfect time. You broke the kiss, only to catch your breath and Todd rested his forehead against yours breathing, his now glossy lips revealing a row of perfect white teeth.

‘Wow’ he sighed

‘Wow’ you looked into his adoring eyes.

And as Todd opened his mouth to speak again a sudden need rushed through your body and you kissed him passionately. He was taken aback for a moment but quickly tightened his grip on your waist, holding your body's flush, together you rose to your knees as you leaned back into his hands. Todd kissed you hungrily, in a way you couldn't expect from him, and as your tongues met you felt yourself grow increasingly aroused at the closeness.

Todd slowly began kissing down your jaw to your neck eliciting soft moans as you began to tug at the hem of his sweater. He leaned back and removed it with a cat-like grin that you had never seen before but that made you want him more than possible. You lifted your arms as he removed your (well his) sweater and began feverishly unbuttoning your tight, white tshirt. His long fingers made quick work of your shirt as he pushed it down your shoulders, still kissing you hotly. He leaned back, hands on your waist, to admire your flawless skin. He ran a light hand over your collar bone as you melted to his touch, his hand traveled down your side, carefully avoiding your breast, to your stomach where he rubbed his thumb over the skin. He looked up at you through his long lashes then down at your low cut, blue floral bra, and more importantly your soft round breasts.

He glanced up again questioningly,

‘Please Todd’ you whispered ‘Touch me’

That confirmation was all he needed to cup his large hand around one of your breasts, kneading it softly and groaning at the feeling. He moved his head down toward them and glanced up a final time before his wet mouth connected with the skin covering your sternum. Slowly he traveled down your cleavage before moving to your left breast leaving small love bites in his wake. You hummed in pleasure as he pulled away the fabric, his hot breath hitting your exposed nipple. He sucked it into his mouth, tongue circling the sensitive skin causing you to whine breathily. Once he was satisfied with the left he moved on to the right still groping the left as he did. Once he had you leaning back on your arms, squirming and moaning his name he pulled away, you whined at the loss of connection until you saw him begin to unbutton his white shirt. You sat up staring longingly as more of his pale, lightly freckled chest was revealed, his muscles were taught and clearly visible, he looked as if he was carved from stone and as he shrugged off his shirt you felt your mouth begin to water. You sat up fully, holding him by the shoulders, cheeks touching as you breathed in his scent, distinctly masculine, like freshly washed sheets or a newly opened book, it filled your chest and stomach and back as you shut your eyes and basked in it. You moved together, not kissing, but breathing, feeling the pull of each other's energy.

You ran your hands down his freckled shoulders observing the rise and fall of his muscles, down his forearms covered in light blonde hairs, to his hands, silky and veined. You brought his hand to your mouth kissing the pads of his fingers and slowly inviting his pointer and middle into your mouth, you licked and sucked sensuously as he stared at the lustful sight. Drawing back, you licked saliva from your lips and continued your exploration. As you began kissing down his chest, feeling his warm skin you caught a glimpse of his bulge, straining against the front of his pants. He lowered himself onto his elbows as you savoured the feeling of his abs on your lips, you felt his hand brush through your hair to your cheek as he lifted your face and looked lovingly into your eyes.

‘hey, you know you don't have to do anything you don't want to right?’ Todd said earnestly

“Little you know” you began to quote as you sensually crawled up his body, ‘the subtle electric fire for your sake playing within me.’ you finished with a soft kiss to his lips.

‘Whitman’ He smiled

‘i fear i am in love’ you mused

‘And i quite the same’ he whispered hot against your lips ‘O to draw you to me, O to be yielded to you, coming naked to me at night,'

'And you to be yielded to me, in defiance of the world’ he spoke as if kissing, moving and breathing and teasing.

‘Your body to me is sweet, clean, loving, strong,’ you spoke kissing his jaw

‘Your eyes are more to me than poems,’ you began traveling back down his neck

‘Your lips do better than play music,’ down his hot chest

‘The lines of your cheeks, the lashes of your eyes, are eloquent to me,’ over the hills and valleys of his toned abdomen

‘This face is flavor’d fruit ready for eating.’ you unbuttoned his trousers

‘You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh,’ unzipping them slowly

‘You take of my hair, breast, hands, in return,’ kissing his hip bones

‘Our flesh, and even a part of our flesh,’you lock eyes with the sandy haired poet, light eyes now dark with lust,

‘seems more than senses and life.’ he finishes for you as you remove his trousers and boxers in one fluid motion, freeing his throbbing member.

Todd sucked in a breath, cock twitching at the sudden cold as it sprung from his boxers. You stared in awe at his glistening member, already dripping with precum, it was large, more than 6 inches, and erect. You looked up at him unsure.

‘I have never done this before’

‘Its ok’ Todd assured ‘I'll tell you what feels good and what doesn't’

And you trusted him to do so.

You leaned forward, taking the tip into your mouth as you tasted him, warm and slightly salty, but knowing it was Todds made it taste like lust. You lowered, taking as much into your mouth as you could, Todd hummed with pleasure and let out a low moan when you felt the tip hit the back of your throat.

‘Mm yes, perfect’

His praise swallowed you whole as you began acting on instinct, taking what couldn’t fit into your mouth in hand, you began to bob your head up and down, slowly hitting the back of your throat every time. Your mouth filled with saliva and precum, dripping out onto your chin. Todd lovingly used his free arm to hold back your hair as you worked. His head fell back as he continued to groan and whisper your name like a prayer. You felt him guide your head faster and you swirled your tongue slightly causing his hips to buck. This involuntary show of desire caused you to moan around his cock, sending vibration through his body, his lips came together to stifle a moan and he whispered breathlessly.

‘Fuck Y/N im getting close, should i-’

But his words were cut off by a long, drawn out ‘fuck-’ as you took his entire length into your hot, wet mouth. He gripped your hair tightly and you felt his cock twitch as hot salty liquid shot down your throat, you swallowed as much as you could, longing to be filled with his love, and as you pulled back, come and spit dripping from your chin to your breasts, he stared, open mouthed.

‘If I am to have so much, let me have more, Drunken and crazy with love, swing in its plummetless sea.’ he recited

You bashfully wiped your mouth as you sat back on your heels.

‘Oh my- that was perfect’ Todd spoke

His eyes scanned your body

‘i have never bared witness to something so breathtakingly beautiful’ he started, holding you with a loving gentleness, ‘so sweet, so lovely’ he smiled as he began to lay you down,’so kind and fulfilling’ he removed your skirt exposing your matching floral panties, now soaked, ‘and sensual’ he mouthed at your navel, ‘something i want’ he breathed pressing a kiss to your hip bone, ‘something i need’ kissing the other, he moved to face your hot core, leaving wet kisses up your thighs ‘bid away matters of the mind, and think only with your heart’ Your head falls back, mouth open wide as you arch into the feeling of Todd's wet tongue running over your panties, but before you can moan out his name he captures your lips in a wet, sensuous kiss, the friction of his tongue being replaced by his long, capable fingers. He hooks his fingers under the waist of the garment and looks to you for permission before slowly pulling them down.

‘I have never done this before either’ Todd admitted as he leaned forward to kiss you

‘I trust you Todd’ you felt him grow harder at your words.

With newfound confidence he tentatively swiped two fingers through your folds, stopping when he felt you shudder at contact with your sensitive bundle of nerves. He quickly glanced back up at you,

‘Good or bad?’ he questioned,

‘Good… really good’ you breathed as he began to circle your clit.

You stared lovingly into his face as he slowly widened his circles until he stopped at your entrance,

‘Todd’ you said softly,

‘Hm?’ he looked up at you in that Todd way, mouth slightly open, blue eyes innocently questioning, dirty blond hair parted to one side.

‘Im a virgin’ you breathed against his lips,

The thought had never crossed your mind since you came to Welton, Poppy had always talked about sex and how great Charlie was in bed but you had never met anyone you thought you could trust with your body, so open and vulnerable, until you met Todd. With him everything just felt so right, a perfect boy, a handsome man, a lover.

‘I want you to be the one’ you whispered,

He kissed you softly, much slower than before but something felt different, like he had transferred part of his soul with that kiss and just as slowly and with as much care, he pressed his warm finger into you. You both shut your eyes, enjoying the sensation, he groaned at the feeling of you clenching around his long nimble finger, growing almost unbearably hard. You moaned loudly as he curled his finger hitting a spot that sent a rush through you.

‘Please Todd- Please’ you whined biting your lip

‘Please what petal, please what?’ Todd urged, eager to please

‘Faster’ you panted.

Todd was a fast learner as he soon found a pace that had you heaving for breath and begging for more all at once, he slowed slightly but before you could complain he added a second finger, pumping them into your throbbing core.

You bit your lip as a mix of pain and pleasure rocked through your body

‘Is that o-’ you swallowed Todd's question in a kiss that neither of you could ever forget, hot and wet and sweet, your tongues working in harmony, both of you making obscene noises as you felt the knot in your stomach grow tighter.

‘Todd i need you’

‘Im here, i'm here whatever you need’ he breathed still pumping in and out of you

‘I need all of you please’ you whined needily.

‘Ok’ he removed his fingers from your warmth and smoothed your lust onto his already hardened cock.

Kneeling in front of you he teased your entrance with his tip as you gazed dreamily up at his figure, the gold afternoon sun peaking through the branches left his pale skin gleaming with sweat. He looked down at you, laying sprawled on the blanket, had it been only this morning you considered each other friends, no, you had been much more from the moment your eyes met. Love. love was the only word to describe how you felt as Todd leaned his forehead against yours and slowly, slowly pressed his way inside of you. The world disappeared inch by inch as his length filled you up, you felt no pain this time, only an all-encompassing sense of wholeness. Your thoughts, feelings, memories became one as he slowly began thrusting into you, nuzzling into your soft hair and breathing heavily. It was just the two of you, breathing and moaning as you moved closer toward a shared bliss. You sucked at his neck, nibbling on a spot behind his ear that made him let out an almost whimper. He raised the hand that wasn't supporting him to your neck, not to choke but to feel your pulse. The feeling of his strong, smooth hand at your neck sent you reeling as you whispered his name frantically.

‘yes, Todd, Please, I love you, i love you, fuck, fuck’

With every thrust he lightly kissed your face, your cheeks, nose, eyelids, running his fingers through your hair. This moment was nothing like how Poppy had described it, not hot and dirty and rough and loud and forbidden, it was warm and sweet and kind and lovely and true. A moment of connection between two fated souls, under the shade of a willow tree.

The feeling was beyond words, beyond feeling, it was poetic. The passion in his movements pushed you to the edge of what you knew to be true, staring into his deep blue eyes, you knew you were close, you both knew. His movements slowed, becoming more sloppy as you both teetered on the edge of release. Your lips connected as you felt a wave of pleasure crash over you both, the feeling so great you moaned into each other's mouths. You rode out your orgasms, panting between kisses, Todds face buried in your neck. He rolled onto his back and you snuggled into his warm chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“I would quote whitman but right now i can only think of you” he sighed

You giggled as you passed him his pants.

He redressed clumsily as you gathered your clothes and jumpers.

You sat together talking quietly as he buttoned your shirt and you fixed up his hair.

“You're so good to me Todd” you smiled as he fixed your collar.

‘Well i just love you’ he said so casually he even took himself by surprise,

‘Where ever did I find you’ you shook your head smiling contently.

You lay with your head in his lap this time, reading Whitman while he picked the surrounding wildflowers, as you put the book down Todd blushed, he had made you a flower crown. You sat up and turned so he could place it on your head.

He smiled ‘you look like a woodland nymph’

You picked a small white flower- a spring beauty- and stuck it in his still slightly messy hair.

‘You're so very pretty Todd’

As the sun grew orange in the sky you began making your way back to the courtyard, probably looking like a pair of strays, hair full of flowers and clothes a mess, holding hands and smiling blissfully.

#Smut #Fluff #Fluff and Smut #pining #friends to lovers #todd anderson #dead poets society #dead poets fanfic #todd anderson x reader #dead poets society x reader #todd x reader

[gummishiki]

hello ~~~ i know it might be a little sick but how about if you want of course one that wally kidnaps the reader after they've seen him do something bad? he keeps them in the basement but the reader refuses to eat driving wally crazy, what will he do to make the reader eat????

that's what i wanted to do

( I love you friend )

It's what's inside that counts 🍎 [ part 1 ]

of course friend :D I shall do my best

(y/n) is a farmer puppet :D not really an important thing I just thought it would be cute :))

tw : kidnapping, vomit, blood, force feeding, obsession, overall dark themes, wally being a silly messed up lil fella

🍎 you had never intended to intrude on wallys personal time with home, everyone in the neighbourhood knew how much he cherished their time together and you had all subconsciously agreed to not question wally whenever he claimed to want to spend some time with home.

🍎 you had only wanted to deliver him some fresh new apples, picked just that morning from your apple tree which brings you to where you are now with your felt knuckles repeatedly knocking on homes door.

🍎 after a few minutes with no answer, you grew slightly concerned. wally was known to always answer the door immediately, he would "never leave his beloved neighbours to stand outside for to long" in his words. you found his consideration sweet.

🍎 with a slight hesitation (you cared about your neighbours privacy of course, you'd never purposely Intrude on them) you twisted the handle of homes door noticing how it was left unlocked which wasn't all that uncommon in the neighbourhood.

🍎 what was uncommon however was how unsettlingly dark home was. you moved forwards and away from the entrance, not taking any notice of how the door slowly closed by itself. with fear in each step you continued to walk forwards in hope of finding wally.

🍎 "wally, you there buddy ?" you felt your voice waver as you attempted to stay calm. a sudden creak of a floorboard caused you to yelp slightly, looking in the direction in which the creak came from you noticed a door slightly ajar. ignoring every survival instinct in your body, you placed the basket of apples down and you felt yourself move towards the door and peak through the gap it had left.

🍎 you felt your breath hitch in your throat at the sight in front of you.

🍎 taking in the scene infront of you, you couldn't help but shake at the sight of endless amounts of canvases around the room, all in which had eerily accurate and realistic portraits of some oddly recognisable creature that you found looked familiar.

🍎 they didn't look like puppets, they didn't have brightly coloured skin or oddly shaped eyes. they had no stitches, no obnoxious hair styles or bright clothing.

🍎 they weren't puppets, they weren't from the neighbourhood. so how did you recognise all the different faces staring back at you ? why did you recognise them ? you sworn you had never seen them before so why do you feel like you have ?

🍎 "just adorable, aren't they ?" you shrieked at the sound of a voice behind you, turning around as fast as you could. "wally, there you are !" sweat built itself down the side of your face as you stared at your dear friend. his eyes blank, pupils dilated as he stared at you, unblinking.

🍎 "I'm sorry, I never meant to Intrude" you attempted to explain yourself as wallys eyes never left yours. "it's just, well you weren't answering and I got concerned so..." you trailed off as wally made no movement to move his gaze away from you.

🍎 a sudden chuckle from your dear friend caused you to blink in surprise. "its alright neighbour, don't worry" his voice sounded hollow, no noticeable emotion could be found in his tone. it unsettled you.

🍎 "um..." you finally managed to find your voice and speak up. "my apologies if this is a rather personal question friend but, who are they ?" you noticed how wally seemed to lighten up slightly at the mention of 'them'.

🍎 his smile seemed to stretch as his pupils expanded. "why they my dear neighbours, they are the viewers" his voice still remained emotionless despite the bright expression on his face.

🍎 "the...viewers ?" your voice wavered, what ever was your dear friend talking about ? were these 'viewers' from a book or show he watched ?, they must be.

🍎 noticing your questioning expression, wally wordlessly took both your felt hands and locked them in his own as he stared at you with an elated expression on his face. "yes, yes !" he exclaimed. "the viewers, they are the ones who are watching us !" you jolted at his sudden claim, wally however gave you no time to think as he continued. "they are the ones who we perform for, the ones we teach valuable lessons to, the ones we were created to entertain !" you felt yourself begin to shake.

🍎 "w-what do you mean wally ?" you attempted to say in a humorous tone. surely he was joking, surely this had to be some sick joke he decided to pull on you.

🍎 "we aren't performing for anyone wally, we weren't created for entertainment. what are you going on about ?" you notice wallys demeanour deflate slightly as his grip on your hands tighten.

🍎 you felt an eerie feeling fill you as wally continued to wordlessly stare at you, not once had he blinked throughout your entire interaction.

🍎 "ha, ha, ha" wallys laugh had always sounded off to you. there was never any tone or humour behind it. just a hallow fake sounding laugh. "my dear neighbour, surely you must believe me" he suddenly pulled you forward causing you to stumble over your legs. " I have proof !" his voice raised, desperation evident in his voice. "I have proof of their existence, that they are the ones who created us and that they are the ones watching us!" he gave you no time to process your thoughts as he hastily dragged you along with him as he turned and rushed forwards towards a door you had never noticed on pervious visits to home.

🍎 you were dragged behind him as he hurriedly ran down jagged creaky steps. you felt cold and unsettled the second you heard the door slam shut behind you. wally paused, finally reaching the bottom step of what you now gathered to be a basement, causing you to nearly topple over him.

🍎 he gently shoved you forward towards a TV with nothing but static showing on the screen. "home showed me this when I was feeling lonely..." wally trailed off, you could still hear desperation in his tone. "I sat here for hours, watching them" his gaze remained unmoving from the static.

🍎 he turned to you, looking at you softly as he spoke "now you can see them too friend, you won't be lonely ever again knowing that they are watching us" he smiled gently at your shaking form.

🍎 "wally..." you hadn't realised how sympathetic your tone sounded, but wally sure did. "wally, I don't see anyone".

🍎 wallys gaze shifted back to the screen. still, only static was shown. "whatever do you mean neighbour ? don't you see them ?" he remained staring at the screen, his smile never leaving his face.

🍎 a sudden jolt from your friend caused you to yelp as he pulled you to the ground in a sitting position. " ah ! I understand now " not once had he blinked. "it took me a while before I could see them too, perhaps all you need is time friend !". you didn't like how that sounded as he held both his hands on your arms.

🍎 " you can stay here, until you see them." his tone sounded demanding yet desperate. "nonono, wally I can't stay here !" you yelled. "let me go home okay, I'll forget this, I'll forget everything I saw and forget everything you said" you didn't want to stay in this cold dark basement any longer, you just wanted to go back to your farm and pretend this never happened.

🍎 wallys grip on you tightened, "no ! no you can't leave until you see them !" tears of frustration poured down his soft felt face causing you to stare at him in both sympathy and anger.

🍎 before you could open your mouth to protest, a thick black substance fell from the ceilings pipe and into your mouth causing you to choke. your vision began to fade as you ripped your arms away from wallys grasps and brought your hands up to your throat.

🍎 the last thing you see before blacking at was wallys blank, dilated pupils staring down at you with desperation.

-timeskip-

🍎 you lost count of how long you had been kept in that cold dark basement, unmoving from the TV that remained only displaying static that had begun to drive you insane.

🍎 everyday, every morning, afternoon and night withouf fail, wally would visit you. he would sit next to you for hours on end gripped onto you telling you how sorry his was and how he couldn't let you go until you saw 'the viewers' just like he claimed to had.

🍎 one afternoon no different than all the others for you, wally had made his presence know to you as he sat next to you. the same routine as every other day. however, this time you noted how wally held a familiar basket in his hands. it was the same apple filled basket you brought to home that you had intended to give him.

🍎 "my dear neighbour" he spoke in a shakey tone as he stared up at you. " I never thanked you for the apples, but I thought of how bad of a friend I would be if I were to not share them with you" he smiled at you. your expression remained blank as you stared at the screen Infront of you. you can't recall the last time you spoke or moved, you felt trapped, stuck in this position.

🍎 wallys shoulders dropped slightly as his smile wavered. he picked up an apple, now visibly molding and held it up to your mouth. "please (y/n) " his voice shook with desperation and emotion as he attempted to open your mouth. you remained unmoving.

🍎 wally began to shake as he finally opened your mouth, the sudden movment caused you to snap out of your daze as you thrashed about. the rope wally used to tie you down in a sitting position seemed to tighten around your form.

🍎 "get away from me !" your voice was hoarse as you yelled at him. "don't touch me, I'm not eating anything, go away !" you made an attempt to bite at wallys hand as he shoved the apples into your mouth.

🍎 you choked back a sob as you thrashed around. the molded apple felt like mush in your mouth. you cried, screaming at someone you once viewed as a dear friend. you began to heave, bile quickly rising in your throat.

🍎 wally hesitated, but he moved backwards slightly as you spewed out the molded apple he had just forced down your throat. your frame shook as you heaved at the sight.

🍎 "I-I'm sorry friend, I didn't mean to-" wallys shoulders shook as he felt tears build up as he stared at you frail form. "don't come near me !" you cut him off, not wanting to hear any apologies or sympathy from him. "get the fuck out, get away from me, leave! " you screamed, tears still streaming down your face as the vomit below you began to spread.

🍎 wally stared at you, on the verge of crying again. he didn't understand, what had he done wrong ? why weren't you seeing them ? why wasn't anything working ?.

🍎 "I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT !" your voice cracked with emotions as you screamed at wally who was now trembling. he turned away from the sight of your pathetic form and wordlessly made his way up the creaking stairs.

🍎 as you heard the basement door gently shut, you felt like you could finally breath again. you turned your head towards the tv.

🍎 "you won't leave me, right neighbour..." you trailed off, gaze unmoving from the tv as you began trembling again.

🍎 the tv remained showing nothing but static. who are you talking to (y/n) ?.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THAT WAS MY FIRST TIME IN A WHILE ACTUALLY WRITING IM SORRY IF IT SUCKED ☹️💪

#welcome home #wally darling #wally darling x reader #welcome home x reader #howdy pillar #julie joyful #sally starlight #barnaby b beagle #frank frankly #eddie dear #poppy partridge #fanfic #silly goofy mood #wally my beloved

[toaster-trash]

One of the things that piss me off the absolute most about popular academic Frankenstein analysis is the “Victor Frankenstein is sexist” take. Like I know I’ve spoken about this quite a lot before but god damn it’s like people just look at the text and see, “(I) looked upon Elizabeth as mine—mine to protect, love, and cherish. All praises bestowed on her I received as made to a possession of my own.”, and they just immediately go, “Oh! Oh! Sexism! Misogyny! Victor Frankenstein is a sexist! Why does he want to create the perfect man, huh? *gasp* is it because he thinks women are inferior?”

When if those people pulled their heads out of their asses for five minutes and read the rest of that paragraph, “On the evening previous to her being brought to my home, my mother had said playfully, “I have a pretty present for my Victor—tomorrow he shall have it.” And when, on the morrow, she presented Elizabeth to me as her promised gift, I, with childish seriousness, interpreted her words literally and looked upon Elizabeth as mine (…)” along with the fact that Victor explicitly says he was “about five years old”, they’d maybe consider, “huh, maybe it’s very fucked up of a mother to give her to her son as a gift and spent her entire life basically shipping these two adopted siblings together until, on her death bed, she says, “my firmest hopes of future happiness were placed on the prospect of your union. This expectation will now be the consolation of your father.” Wow, maybe that’s kind of fucked up. Maybe painting, again, a five year old, who was honesty for all intents and purposes pretty much just manipulated into thinking it was his duty to marry his adopted sister out of respect for his dead mother’s last wishes who died when he was seventeen, as a wife-beating woman hater who reanimated the dead to spite half the human population, is very very fucked up!”

Like I can’t stress this enough – both Elizabeth and Victor are victims here. Of course as the story goes on a bit and Victor is a grown adult man who’s still avoiding his feelings and fucking off across the continent with his buddy pal best friend every five minutes instead of facing his mistakes and emotions, yeah, he is honestly more or less to blame for Elizabeth’s death, but that isn’t misogyny. Avoidance of everything is like one of his integral character flaws.

And I mean if you thought the 1831 republication had some creepy undertones, look at the bloody original 1818 version.

“(My uncle) request(ed) my father (…) take charge of the infant Elizabeth, the only child of his deceased sister. “It is my wish,” he said, “that you should consider her as your own daughter, and educate her thus.”’

So just explicit incest, basically. And again, if you thought Victor’s mother was a bit creepy and pushy in the republication,

“I have often heard my mother say, that she was at that time the most beautiful child she had ever seen, and shewed signs even then of a gentle and affectionate disposition. These indications, and a desire to bind as closely as possible the ties of domestic love, determined my mother to consider Elizabeth as my future wife; a design which she never found reason to repent.”

“………A desire to bind as closely as possible the ties of domestic love?” My brother in Christ you were groomed. Fun fact, I read the 1818 version first and read that in the middle of form class and sat for a good five minutes staring flabbergasted at what the fuck I was reading.

So no, dear God no, nowhere in the text does it imply Victor Frankenstein hates women. I mean honestly it’s kind of shown in the way he talks about the Creature’s Bride that he doesn’t view women as objects and does, in fact, view them as people.

“He had sworn to quit the neighbourhood of man and hide himself in deserts, but she had not; and she, who in all probability was to become a thinking and reasoning animal, might refuse to comply with a compact made before her creation.”

My guy basically says “well what are we expecting her to do here, immediately marry you just because she was told to?”

(Just a fun little comparison I noticed there – not to turn the conversation back to my whole “does Victor is gay” theory but I think it is interesting that Victor thinks that, that he does go “well she can’t just be expected to marry someone just because she was told to!” and then suggests to himself that she would probably rather “turn with disgust from him to the superior beauty of man” – interesting, Victor. Like Clerval’s “form so divinely wrought, and beaming with beauty”? Interesting as well that after Victor comes to that conclusion and destroys the Bride, the Creature immediately then kills Henry and only then does Victor finally go “well. I finally have to marry Elizabeth.” Feeling disheartened by sparing her your predicament only to be thrust even deeper into your own, are we?)

But yeah. “Victor Frankenstein is a full-blown women-hating misogynist” takes really piss me off. Another case of “oooh yes let’s cherry pick the text scouring it for anything we can possibly use to turn things back around to the same few analysis points we’ll reuse over and over instead of possibly considering that just because a text is written by a woman doesn’t mean that it’s a massive rant on the patriarchy disguised as a science fiction novel.”

Maybe that’s kind of sexist itself. Maybe women can just write kick-ass gothic horror sometimes. And maybe just because a work definitely has undertones about sexism and misogyny (like, fair enough, a lot of Elizabeth’s character definitely does) that doesn’t mean that the male protagonist wants to kill all women! And surprise surprise as well, works can comment on misogyny and patriarchy and acknowledge that women are treated badly in society and have been in differing ways for hundreds of years, without going “all men are inherently evil and fuck them all”. Bit of a side rant that I won’t go all into here, but just worth mentioning that after seeing this over and over again in media and analysis of media over and over again, hey, misandry won’t fix misogyny. It just makes everything considerably stupidly worse. –your friendly neighbourhood bisexual

#gothic lit #classic literature #gothic literature #goth lit #classic lit #frankenstein #frankenstein weekly #frankenstein or the modern prometheus #Victor Frankenstein #Elizabeth Lavenza #Frankenstein analysis #Clervalstein #(kind of) #frankenstein everyday

[aphroditesmoon]

hello love! they say you need some jace reqs soo i wanted to try. if you don't mind ofc. jace, being a lovesick puppy he is, is absolutely whipped by his betrothed. but one day he's just too tired/annoyed/riled up so when she does something stupid to make him smile he loses it. a stupid childish fight. yet he says smth harsh/rise his voice too much and as a result he has to witness her crying. his beloved. crying. because of him. cliche hurt/comfort but who doesn't need this boy to comfort them? sorry if you doesn't like it. thank u, though. your works are still fascinating!

andromeda

jacaerys velaryon x reader

warnings: angst w fluff ending

a/n: I'm sorry this tookm me so long my dear! and thank you for your kind kind words (⁠◠⁠ᴥ⁠◕⁠ʋ⁠)

°°°

Andromeda's was his favorite type of flowers. A type of bog rosemaries. You remember how proud he was to show off his intellectual knowledge of flowers once he found out how keen were of plants and flowers.

The Red Keep's garden was barely a grand view, but he notices how you cherish them anyways.

You loved how much he loved to learn about you, about your interests and your views.

You'd imagine being betrothed without familiarity would make him distant, but he was more kinder and full of care than you could ever ask of.

You also loved how he loved you.

His beautiful rose, how he'd prick his whole body if it'd meant he'd get to hold you.

Though some days, it didn't feel like he would.

Not when he's not even listening to you talking or walking away when you've barely got a hold of him.

You feel your heart shrink at the subtle yet obvious pull of attention from his side.

This is it. You thought. His affections for me are being withdrawn as it always does with everyone else.

You'd thought it'd be different with him, but it seemed only silent trees wouldn't push you away of company.

His mood was solemn with everyone, you shrugged of your insecurities and wonder if you're overacting.

"My love, you haven't touched your meal at all." You remarked, watching him pick on his food and drown himself in his 5th glass of wine that night.

Abruptly, he stands up, glancing at you for a second before his eyes turn to the hallway.

"I shall leave to bed, I feel my appetite have lost." He answers shortly.

Immediately you stand and rush over him, your usual smile graced your face with a sprinkle of excitement.

"I'll accompany you!" You exclaimed, linking your hands with his.

He pursed his lips, trying to hide his tiredness with a barely spread smile at you as you finally reach your chambers.

The smile drops as fast as it comes as his hand leaves yours.

"Thank you for your company, I-" His words halted as the door of his chambers open.

His eyes squinted before it widened.

"Who- You did this?" His voice turns accusatory as he turns to you.

You maintained your smile and nodded. "Don't you like it? They're your favourite." You noted at the Andromeda's spread on his bed and placed on his bedside lamp.

He rushes inside and pushes the flowers off his bed as you walk behind him.

"Don't push it like that!" Your voice grew louder as panic laces it.

His eyes glares into yours as he faces you and pulls you out his room with a grab of your wrist.

"Don't pull this kind of shit again, I don't have time for your nonsense, [name]." He grits out as his grip losens.

You shake your head and feel your eyes burn. "I only wanted to make you happy, I- I wanted to do something for you, do you not loved them-" your voice cracks and you feel your eyes wells up.

His eyes widen again in rage. "Happy? I'm happy when I'm being left alone. I'm tired and now I have this pile of shit to clean." He snapped and slams the door on your face before you could get a word out.

Your held breath releases as tears fall down your cheeks.

You had no idea how many lurking servants had heard his outburst, and you did want to know.

You hold in your breath and your sobs as your feet drags you to your own chamber, head hung low, not daring to look up.

It was almost like you couldn't do a single thing right, just as your father had always told you, just as the whispers of the court ladies have always reminded you, it seemed that embarrassing yourself is only becoming more of you, if only you had kept to yourself.

°°°

The next two days, you had not seen your betrothed anywhere, not that you made any effort to search for him. You surrounded yourself with books in the library, and took your meals alone in your room.

You owed him peace, and that was what you'd gave him.

His peace however, was cut short when he finds you in the corner of a bookshelf, sitting cross legged, head in a book.

"I thought I'd found you here." His voice woke you from your reading trance.

You find yourself silent as he takes you in.

His smile sheepish as his eyes bird guilt.

"I- I have not seen you, for a few days." He started.

You voice still struggles to speak, so you nod as an encouragement for him to continue, your eyes looking away from his.

He stops himself at first, kneeling down and sitting next to you.

His shoulder bumping into yours when he moves to look at you. Too close for your own comfort, his anger towards you still a lingering fresh memory.

His eyes moves from your face to the book you're reading.

"Old valyria history, you could've just asked me to tell you about it if you're ever curious." He says.

You couldn't help the snort that left you.

"So you could scream at me again?" You'd words beat you to the chase of your patience.

His flinches as if you've slapped him and his gaze turns pained.

"I hadn't meant it." He whispers lowly.

"And yet you haven't apologized either." You snapped.

"I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I will beg for it still." He starts.

Whatever remark you've prepared, died on your throat as his hands clasps yours, raising it to his lips, kissing it before splaying it on his chest.

"I've been the biggest idiot the world's ever known." You huffed, a smile threatening to break free.

"I wish I could take it all back, and I wish you had known I picked up every petal I pushed off my bed to keep safe in a vase, near me when I sleep. I didn't know why I blew up on you, but you were never the cause of my anger, and you should not have to deal with my wrath, my immature, stupid wrath."

His voice turns somber.

"Will you forgive me, my sweet love.* He attempts, eyes begging at you with so much sincerity you could not do anything but nod.

"I'm sorry too, I only wanted-" He interjects before you could finish, shaking his head.

"Never apologize, not to me, not to anyone. You're actions were as pure as your heart, It's I that should be groveling at your feet, and yet you spare me the misery."

You sniffed away tears and laugh shortly at his antiques.

"You're so dramatic Jace, I forgive you my prince, I always will." A smile finally appears on him as his hand moves to remove a strand of your hair away from your face.

He leans forward and bumps his nose on yours. "Does this mean you'll finally grace me with a kiss my lovely?" He teases, voice still quavering.

You giggle and answer him with your lips indulging his. His warms tongue not hesitating to slip in yours as his hands pulls you up into his lap.

He groans as your fingers laced his hair and pulls it as he sucks on your bottom lip.

"My pretty flower, what have I ever done to deserve such a gift as you." He mumbles against your throat as his lips moves down you neck, kissing and biting.

You grin at his words and close your eyes, relaxing in his touch.

"Do not fret, know that all is forgiven, you have of as much power over me as I do to you." You replied before laying your head on his chest, his arms fast around you.

#house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #hotd x reader #jace velaryon x reader #game of thrones #house of the dragon x reader #jace targaryen x reader #hotd #jacaerys targaryen

[azullumi]

WAIT WAIT IK I JUST SENT ONE SO FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS BUT,, KAVEH REALIZING HE'S FALLING IN LOVE 🤭🤭🤭

summary — nobody wakes up and says, "i'm in love with them."

pairing — kaveh/gender-neutral reader

tags — fluff ; headcanons

words — 554

note — i saw ur first request heuehueheheh but my mind immediately worked for this one :DD i don't have a header or banner for him yet so we'll settle with this one first

Nobody wakes up and thinks that they're in love with someone at that moment, like literally opening one's eyes, sitting up the bed, and saying that they have feelings for a certain person. The same applies to Kaveh—he just didn't wake up on a Monday morning at the thought of you and realizes that the rhythm of his heart spells out your name. He will only dismiss his notions of your being in the morning because he had leftover thoughts during the night when he was dreaming of you, whether it was in his slumber or while strangely, he was awake; "How strange to dream of you even when I am wide awake."

He definitely finds it strange how he finds himself talking a lot more when he's around you and feeling more at ease when he's in your presence even when the two of you are basking just basking in the pure warmth of silence—despite the fact that he could feel his heart racing or some sort of anxiety rising in his chest which makes him giddy. He thinks of everything as if it was something completely normal or justified because of probably your personality to which he loves and adores. He's not in denial, he's just a little bit… slow. He can be a little bit dense sometimes, guys.

He does admit, he does cherish and care for you but he never thought it would reach that way, although he was also expecting it but goddamn it. Once he realizes, he'll start to become conscious of his actions, thinking if he's doing too much or doing too less and he's worried how he comes off to you, if he's being weird or unusual—he'll just go through some crisis and conflict within himself, not knowing what to do with his feelings and where to put it; Where shall his heart settle if not in your hands? 

Was he always like this? How does he even act before this? Was he always this nervous? He tries to play off everything as cool, trying to act normal and if he manages to even finish a conversation with you without blundering, he gives himself a high five and a praise. Despite the thoughts muddling his mind and addling his judgment, despite the overwhelming feeling of the butterflies in his stomach and the loud beating of his heart that he thinks that you can hear it, he still looks forward to everyday with you—he wishes to see your smile and the way your eyes sparkle, to hear your voice and listen to your laughter, to be there with you in your silence and everything.

Nobody wakes up in the morning and realizes that their heart beats for a certain someone and Kaveh wasn't an exception. However, he did realize it when he have seen the smile that graced your lips and the laugh that emitted from your throat, coming from the happiness that dances around you, and thinks that you're so lovely and he wishes to see more of it. He realizes it in his dreams where he sees you naked, not in an erotic way, but your soul being bare to him so breathtaking and painfully beautiful so—in his dreams where he dances with you, leaving traces of his existence on your skin, and kisses you.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

#yae publishing house #kaveh genshin #kaveh x reader #kaveh fluff #kaveh x you #kaveh headcanons #kaveh #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfics #genshin fanfic #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin x you #genshin #genshin impact fluff #azul.writes

[cherryjuiceblues]

MUTUALLY BENEFICIAL 5 SNEAK PEEK :D

The house doesn’t smell like curry.

And that’s the first thing he notices when he steps inside after a long day. Harry always makes a point to relish in the view of his home before he enters its threshold; warm and bathed in light—the clear signs of life pouring out of the windows and across the driveway. Y/N cradles his heart in more ways than she shall ever know but simply remembering that she is here, in his home, keeping it safe whilst he’s gone… It does irrevocable things to him.

But today, perhaps he’ll admit that it does less to soothe his weary head as it does most days. When the only thing getting him through the workday was the promise of a beloved meal, prepared with love, steaming—waiting for him when he got home—and the scent doesn’t immediately hit him in the face… he worries. He worries for his sanity and for Y/N’s wellbeing. He worries for the words he might say on an impatient, empty stomach.

The tension between Harry’s brows radiates throughout his entire skull as he rolls out his shoulders and prepares himself for the conversation he’s going to have to have in approximately ten seconds. He can hear Y/N tottering around in the kitchen—and that almost makes it worse—that she’s in there and yet he can smell… he can smell something sweet. Something—

His feet lead him to the scent, hoping his nose is mistaken, forehead tightening at the sight he is greeted with.

“What’s this?” His cadence is concerning—unclad with his usual charming lilt—swathed in this new, murky tone of impatience. “Where’s m’dinner, sweetheart?”

Y/N twists around from her place at the sink, lips turned downwards unlike her usual welcome of a happy, relieved smile. And her reaction, Harry will later accept, is a valid one considering his complete lack of greeting—when he is usually so full of soft lilts and gentle caresses.

“Oh—” she scoffs, words tumbling out uncharacteristically, “because ‘m your housewife, now?” And—regardless of whether Y/N had already been labelled as such by Harry’s own employees, she has a feeling his eyes would’ve darkened all the same. His immediate, deathly silence does more to terrorise her than any garish attempt at horror (although that successfully scares her too).

She’s wondered what it would take for him to have his moment. Harry’s patience has always been such a relief—the most gentle person in Y/N’s life—a trait previously severely lacking and one she now cherishes every day.

And she knows his reaction isn’t unjust. She should have made him dinner, ready to eat as soon as he stepped foot inside—just like she had promised earlier in the day. With a smile on her face. She can’t quite explain why she made a cake instead. She’d had every intention to do as she’d said, was on her way to the kitchen to get started, in fact. But then she’d opened her phone, scrolled through Pinterest for just long enough to become distracted, to forget her initial quest, and to become enamoured by a heart-shaped sponge cake instead.

Y/N understands Harry’s anger. But it’s still upsetting. She feels as though she has committed something worthy of jail time. Her stomach churns, previously dancing butterflies dispersing with a single brandishing glance over her way. They’re replaced by heavy, heavy bricks—weighing her down, immobilising her completely as she watches Harry inspect the kitchen with beady eyes.

“You made a cake?” He asks, already knowing of the answer; the evidence stares him straight in the face—accompanied by the debris—a crime scene of flour and icing sugar, bowls upon bowls filled with remnants of batter. She opens her mouth, abandoned by sound, swiftly closed when Harry continues on his own; unneeding of Y/N to have a conversation.

“Does it taste like fucking Korma, darlin’?” And she doesn’t like it—the way he weaponises the word she associates so closely to her own identity—the one he uses more than her own name. He’s upset. And it’s her fault.

“It—”

“—Don’t. Just—” he sighs, swiping his heavy palm over his forehead, “—be quiet.”

#mutually beneficial #sneaky #sneak peek #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shots #harry styles smut #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fanfiction

[rubyarrows]

Comforting Hold

YN's day had been nothing short of a rollercoaster ride. From early morning mishaps to mounting work stress, she felt overwhelmed and emotionally drained. As she stepped into her apartment, she couldn't help but let out a heavy sigh, longing for solace.

Little did she know that her best friend and confidant, Callen, had sensed her distress. He had always been there for her, offering unwavering support and a listening ear. Today was no different.

A knock on the door startled YN, but a smile tugged at her lips when she saw Callen standing there, a playful glimmer in his eyes. "Hey, partner. Mind if I come in?"

YN shook her head, gratitude filling her heart. "Of course, G. Come on in."

As Callen stepped inside, he immediately sensed the heaviness in the air. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around YN, enveloping her in a comforting embrace. She melted into his embrace, feeling the weight of the world slowly lift from her shoulders.

"Rough day?" Callen asked softly, his voice filled with empathy.

YN nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah, it feels like everything is falling apart."

A warm smile graced Callen's face as he pulled away, his eyes meeting hers with unwavering support. "Well, I'm here now. Let's turn this day around, shall we?"

Together, they ventured into the kitchen, Callen's culinary skills coming to the forefront. As he effortlessly prepared a simple yet delicious meal, the aroma filled the air, bringing a sense of comfort and tranquility.

As they sat down to eat, YN couldn't help but marvel at the magic Callen weaved with his cooking. Each bite was a delightful symphony of flavors, a respite from the chaos of the day. They laughed, shared stories, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

After dinner, they settled onto the couch, surrounded by a cozy blanket fort they had built together in their younger days. Callen scrolled through their collection of favorite movies, each one symbolizing a cherished memory.

As the movie played, YN nestled against Callen, her head resting on his shoulder. The familiar warmth of his presence enveloped her, offering a sense of security and peace. They laughed together at the funny parts, and during the intense moments, Callen's reassuring grip on her hand grounded her.

"You're my new pillow," Callen whispered, his voice filled with affection.

YN let out a soft chuckle, her heart swelling with gratitude. "I'm lucky to have you, G. You always know how to make everything feel better."

In that moment, their friendship transcended words. It was a bond forged through shared experiences, trust, and unconditional support. They had weathered countless storms together, and this night was another testament to the depth of their connection.

As the credits rolled on the movie, YN looked up at Callen, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and contentment. "Thank you for being here, G. For always being my safe haven."

Callen smiled, his gaze filled with unwavering loyalty. "Anytime, YNN. We're in this together, through thick and thin."

And as they sat there, wrapped in each other's embrace, they found solace in the simplicity of the moment. In their friendship, they had discovered a sanctuary—a place where troubles melted away, and laughter echoed through the walls.

As the movie reached its end, YN's exhaustion finally caught up with her. The weight of the day's troubles, combined with the comfort of Callen's presence, washed over her like a soothing lullaby. With a contented sigh, she drifted off into a peaceful sleep, her head still resting on Callen's shoulder.

Callen looked down at the sleeping form of his dearest friend, a tender smile gracing his lips. Gently, he maneuvered himself, careful not to disturb her slumber, and with utmost care, he cradled her in his arms.

Silently, he made his way towards her bedroom, the soft glow of the moonlight guiding his steps. It was a sacred moment, a gesture of protection and tenderness that spoke volumes about the depth of their connection.

As Callen laid YN down on her bed, he couldn't help but marvel at her serene beauty. The worries of the day seemed to melt away, replaced by a profound sense of peace. He tucked her in, ensuring she was comfortable, before slipping in beside her.

The warmth of their bodies intertwined, the gentle rise and fall of their breaths in perfect sync. Callen gently wrapped his arms around YN, his touch a comforting anchor in the night. It was a simple act, yet it spoke volumes—a testament to the unbreakable bond they shared.

Throughout the night, Callen held YN close, his presence a shield against the uncertainties of the world. He whispered words of reassurance in her ear, hoping that even in her dreams, she would feel safe and loved.

As the first rays of dawn began to filter through the window, YN stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She found herself nestled in the embrace of Callen, his steady heartbeat echoing in her ear. A gentle smile graced her lips as she realized the extent of his care and devotion.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Callen greeted, his voice filled with affection.

YN's cheeks flushed with a mix of emotions. "Morning, G. Did I fall asleep on you?"

Callen chuckled softly, his grip on her tightening ever so slightly. "Yes, you did. But it's okay. You needed the rest."

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of their shared embrace, YN felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. She was blessed to have a friend like Callen, someone who understood her without words, and who was always there to provide comfort and solace.

As they untangled themselves from their cozy entanglement, YN couldn't help but feel a sense of loss. However, she knew that their bond transcended the physical, and their friendship would continue to grow stronger with each passing day.

With a renewed sense of strength and purpose, YN and Callen faced the day, ready to conquer whatever challenges lay ahead. Their friendship was a source of unwavering support, a constant reminder that they were never alone.

#ruby arrows #ruby arrows imagines #ncis #ncis la #ncis x reader #ncis imagine #ncis fanfiction #ncis la x reader #ncis la imagine #ncis la imagines #ncis la fanfiction #g callen #g callen x reader #g callen imagine #g callen imagines #g callen fanfiction

[miguelswifey04]

as a request for noir because its amazing for what you've done!! I wass wondering if you'd do a noir x reader of noir writing a love letter as a love confession,, ft. first kiss ;]

ima get a lil creative with this one hehe <3

Dear [Y/N],

i hope this letter finds you well and swirls your thoughts with the same passion and desire that has consumed my own mind since our encounter. in the time that has passed, i find myself unable to dismiss the memories we have shared. your presence has left an indelible mark on my heart, one that i cannot ignore.

from the moment i first laid eyes on you in that dimly lit bar, searching for my lost cigarette pack, i was captivated by your beauty, your confidence, and the alluring spark that radiated from within you. never before have i experienced such an immediate connection, a magnetic pull that drew me towards you, as if we were fated to meet.

our time together, brief as it may have been, ignited a fire within me, a yearning that I cannot suppress. the way your body responded to my touch, the passion that flowed between us, it was unlike anything i have ever known. your desires mirrored my own, and it was in that shared exploration that i realized the depths of my feelings for you.

so, with this letter, i confess my love for you. the mere thought of you consumes my thoughts, day and night. your enchanting presence, your intoxicating allure, it has bewitched me entirely. i find myself yearning for your touch, your lips, the warmth of your embrace. you have awakened a side of me that i thought long dormant, a side that craves your presence and longs to explore the depths of our connection.

i understand if this confession takes you by surprise, and i respect whatever decision you may make. but know that if you choose to share your heart with me, i promise to cherish you, to honor and protect you in every way that I can. our journey together will be filled with passion, adventure, and unwavering devotion.

with all my love,

spider-noir

———————————————————————

as you read the heartfelt words penned by spider-noir, a rush of emotions washed over you—excitement, curiosity, and a yearning that mirrored his own. the sincerity in his words spoke volumes, and you couldn't ignore the pull it had on your own heart. with resolve and a curiosity that burned within you, you found yourself seeking him out, the longing for his touch too strong to resist. in a quiet corner of the city, beneath the flickering glow of a streetlight, you finally came face to face with spider-noir.

there was an undeniable electricity in the air as you locked eyes with him, the weight of his confession hanging between you. without a word, he gently cupped your face, his touch as tender as he could muster, his lips hovering above yours.

in that moment, time seemed to stand still, the anticipation and desire building between you. with a flutter of his dark lashes, spider-noir closed the gap, pressing his lips against yours in a lingering kiss. it was as if the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you, connected by a love that defied logic and convention.

the first kiss shared between you was both tender and fervent, passion blending with tenderness as your lips melded together. it was a culmination of desire, of a confession answered, and the beginning of a new chapter in your shared journey.

as your lips parted, a smile danced upon spider-noir’s face, his eyes filled with adoration. the depth of his feelings was echoed in the way he held you, his fingers tangled in your hair as he whispered, "you have my heart, my darling. we shall navigate this path of love together, and let it lead us to places we could have only dreamt of."

and with a renewed sense of purpose, you ventured forward, hand-in-hand, ready to embrace the boundless pleasures that love and passion had in store for you both.

———

a/n: the letter part was lengthy ngl 😭

#spiderman atsv #noir x you #spider man noir x reader #spiderman noir #spider noir #spider noir x y/n #itsv noir #itsv x you #spiderman into the spiderverse #into the y/n verse #atsv fluff #spiderman noir fluff #spider noir fluff #🌱 lin writes

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere vs yandere with two different ending

How would Sebek and Silver be when they competing for getting Crewle daughter hand in marriage or courting?

Since they are old fastion they court differently compared to people outside of the Valley of thorns

The Duel for Your hand | Sebek Zigvolt vs Silver Vanrouge

Your right they do court differently

And they have some of the most unreliable people cheering them on

Malleus is giving his earnest outdated opinion

Lilia is just in it for laughs 

To a degree he is seriously cheering them on but he knows in the end it can’t really hold a candle to your opinion

If it weren’t for Silver’s compassion they would have done this in front of you

But they won’t, instead they’ll have Malleus and Lilia bare witness

The two only start to worry when the boys both get a little to into it

I most definitely see them inviting Crewel off-record to watch

Your father isn’t one to just give his approval to the baddest brute 

But he is taking it into account when they officially ask

Silver Vanrouge’s Ending 

He’s agile 

He’s smart 

And he’s the goodest boy

When he wins he immediately is praised by his father

Who might have forgotten by now that this is a really really old way to gain a woman’s affection 

“Go on, you have to tell her!”

He actually falls asleep first 

Leaving him to wake up to you, who had been invited to their battle ground unexpectedly

“Silver what have I said about sleeping in dirt? Didn’t you cherish the peacock plumed pillow, where is it?”

Once he answers and you two start idle chatter

He smile widely as he recalls his achievement

“I won!” 

“Excuse me?”

“I won the duel against Sebek for your hand!”

“...so?”

“So? I mean no disrespect…but it is the way this typically goes, right? Or at least that's what Father said.”

“Sweetheart, it's been over a century since that kind of practice went out of date. The only approval you really need now is mine.”

“Then may I ask for your hand in marriage?”

“You may, after we officially start dating of course.”

“Yes, please!”

Crewel might’ve been secretly rooting for him 

And when he eventually does have Silver asking for approval 

He’ll give it to him

“I was under the impression, your sleepy disposition meant you were an airhead unoccupied but your duel showed me otherwise. I expect you will protect her with that same vigor I watched you fight with.”

“Of course, sir! I plan to protect her with all my might!”

“Good boy.”

Sebek Zigvolt Ending 

Where Silver’s nimble 

Sebek has power

Power that ultimately beats Silver

Now at this point Lilia will try to help him

Keyword: try

“AS SUCH I WOULD PREVAIL! (Y/N)’S HAND IS MINE!” 

He’ll run off the grounds shouting and cheering 

He’s so busy tooting his own horn he’s completely oblivious to the atmosphere 

“Dogs with barking problems need a muzzle.”

While Crewel is groaning under his breath as he retreats to rage in his room fill out some paperwork

Meanwhile Sebek is proudly stomping to where you are completely unaware of the way people are disturbed by his loud presence

“(Y/n)! I HAVE PROPERLY DUELED FOR YOUR HAND AGAINST SILVER AND I HAVE WON! NOW SHALL WE UNITE IN BRIAR VALLEY OR QUEENDOM OF ROSES?”

“Sebek…what are you talking about?”

“THE DUEL FOR YOUR HAND IN MARRIAGE! YOUR FATHER GIVES HIS APPROVAL FOR OUR UNION!”

“Sebek, you do realize that nowadays you don’t have to fight anyone…you can just ask me.”

“But I’ve already pledged! And I beat him!”

“That doesn’t mean anything compared to my words. Are you suggesting that my opinion doesn’t matter?”

“NO! Not in the slightest! I apologize for assuming! It is my own hubris that makes me overstep to think you could ever want to be with me!”

He kneels wanting to kiss your shoe

“I wouldn’t be against it if you were to court me, by modern standards that is.”

“IT’D BE AN HONOR…but I will admit when it comes to modern courting…I am not very familiar.”

“No worries, I can guide you.”

“THAT’S EXACTLY LIKE YOU (Y/N)-SAMA! I’M HONORED TO HAVE THIS OPPORTUNITY!”

Such a worshipper 

You could probably keep him on a leash like this for years

An option Crewel would very much prefer

Expect him to defend your honor in every situation

Like when someone insults you

Or questions why you’ve been dating so long

Or any compliment towards you that makes him insecure which is quite a few

Sebek will eventually grow on Crewel who will still maintain that he doesn’t like him

“I still think you need a muzzle.”

#yandere sebek vs yandere silver #yandere twst silver #yandere twst sebek #yandere sebek zigvolt #yandere sebek x reader #yandere silver twisted wonderland #yandere silver x reader #yandere silver #yandere vs yandere #yandere diasmonia #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yanderexrea #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland silver vs sebek

[starogeorgina]

Broken bonds

Paring: Ser Harwin Strong/reader

Warnings: Swearing

Notes: So I've had a few asks about Harwin and Rhaenyra's relationship in this story, so I'm just answering them here. To clarify, Harwin is 100% not the father of Rhaenyra's three oldest children - their only connection in broken bonds is Vaella

2.03

“Forgive me, princess, but might I ask what happened?”

You turn on your heels to see Lord Larys looking at your scarred hand. You hadn’t noticed him prior because he was sitting in a well-shaded area within the courtyard.

Always lurking in the shadows.

“A received an arrow through the hand during the battle for the stepstones.”

Intrigued Larys motions for you to sit beside him. “Were you on the beach when it happened?”

“No,” you say politely. “I was on the dragon's back. The battle was almost over when members of the Triarchy came out of their hiding spot in a cave and fired upon us. Ser Laenor got away on Seasmoke, but I was not so lucky. It’s a painful thing to witness your dragon in pain. I was so concerned with the arrows hitting Varos that I hardly felt the one that struck me.”

“What happened to those who fired upon you, princess?”

“I bathed them in fire.”

“Hmm, my brother must be very proud of marrying a Targaryen princess who’s been to battle. I imagine you will be very happy together.”

Presenting a cordial smile, you nod, “I think we will as well.”

You watch as servants hurried to prepare for the first grand feast of many being held to celebrate the king's first grandchildren. During a rare moment of solitude while both your sons were tended to by their wet nurses, you decided to take a walk outside to clear your head. Since you opted to feed your sons yourself throughout the night, headaches had been a normal thing for you due to lack of sleep, so the fresh air had done you wonders.

“Will you be remaining in the keep? I know Harwin is the heir to Harrenhal, but it would be nice for you to return to Dragonstone, where you... went through so much together.”

Lary's lips moved as he smiled, but his eyes remained the same. It was known that Clubfoot was untrustworthy, especially with his friendship with the queen being kept a secret. Strong or not, he was another person to keep away from your sons. Before you have a chance to say anything further, you jump to your feet immediately after hearing shrieking close by. You look up and let out a hearty laugh, seeing Caraxes flying over the keep. “Excuse me, Lord Larys, I must go and greet my uncle. I will see you tonight.”

“Of course, princess,” he says, bowing his head. “I shall see you there.”

—

You wait by the entrance of the dragonpit for your uncle to emerge, and when he does, you smile at him brightly, like an excited child, as he approaches you with his arms outstretched. “Rijes aōt, ñuha gevie niece!” He takes hold of both your hands and says, “Two, I hear. Congratulations. I cannot wait to meet the realm's future greatest dragon riders.”

“Thank you, uncle; I cannot wait for you to meet my sons.”

His jaw tightens when Syrax roars in the distance; the happiness in his eyes fades and is overtaken by sadness. Usually, he was delighted to see your sister. Daemon cleared his throat and said, “I’ve got a gift for you.” He reaches into the small satchel he takes with Dragon Rider and pulls out a dagger. “It’s made of Valyrian steel.”

Your finger smooths over the handle, which has your house’s symbol engraved into it. In a way, his gift reminded you of the three-headed dragon; since Daemon had a dark sister and Rhaenyra had her necklace, and now that you had a dagger, the three of you possessed a part of your family's history.

“Thank you; I will cherish it forever,” you say sincerely while trying not to get emotional. “Uncle, is there something bothering you?”

“My wife, Lady Laena, is pregnant.”

“Fantastic news, is it not?” The people who were around the dragonpit began to stare when your uncle didn't reply right away and appeared to have zoned out. You nudge him lightly, “Uncle?”

“Yes, fantastic news. Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys are ecstatic, as are I and Laena.”

“How many people know?”

“Not many. Laena hasn’t shared the news with her brother yet.”

“Which means you haven’t told Rhaenyra,” you say, squeezing his arm. “My sister will be delighted for you, and so will my father.”

While pregnant, you often snuck through secret passages to visit Harwin at night and nearly always overheard the servants gossiping. Nothing ever particularly interested you; you would only ever ease off when hearing your sister's name being mentioned. It seemed to be common knowledge amongst the servants in the keep and Driftmark that Rhaenyra had become fond of Lady Laena. Rhaenyra, Daemon, and Laena seemed to be in some kind of polyamorous relationship, but it wasn’t your business, so you never asked. But if it were true, you could understand why your uncle was hesitant to share the news with your sister; he didn’t want to hurt her.

When Syrax starts to fly into the dragon pit, you offer Daemon a kind smile and say, “I will leave you to greet my sister; I’ll see you tonight.”

—

Stepping onto the small platform, you admire the velvet gown you have chosen. The floor-length gown was red and had a corset-style top, puffed sleeves that draped down each arm, and black intricate detailing and embellishments. It was beautiful, and for the first time, you felt like one of the princesses you’d read about in books as a child. Hearing a gurgling noise, you look over your shoulder to see Harwin rocking the cradle beside him gently with his foot while holding one of your sons with his good arm. You found it amazing that Harwin was still finding time to care for the boys despite his injuries.

“They are both gorgeous princesses,” your lady in waiting says as she puts the final red pins into your braid.

“Thank yo-”

You’re cut off when the door to your quarter opens and Ser Criston steps inside; he bows his head in the direction of you and your lady in waiting and says, “Princess, her grace is here to see you.”

“Ser Criston,” Alicent smiles as Harwin and your lady in waiting greet her properly. She waves for one of her servants to come into the room, and the servant lowered her head as she entered the room carrying a hideous green dress. “Princess Vaella, as a gesture of goodwill, I’ve had my seamstress custom-make you a dress that will better hide your… curves.”

You bite your tongue. You didn’t know what bothered you more: Alicent going out of her way to embarrass you or Ser Criston not acknowledging Harwin, which was a clear sign of disrespect. The seconds pass by with Alicent looking at you smugly, awaiting a reply.

“I think my betrothed looks rather beautiful in what she’s wearing.”

You smile brightly at Harwin. He was the only person whose opinion truly mattered to you. Of course, your family and close friends mattered, but only Harwin could cause butterflies to dance in your stomach. The glint in his eyes suggested he truly meant it. He smiles back at you before returning his attention to the babe, who is starting to babble in his arms.

—

“A fucking green dress!” Daemon sneered. “Malicious cunt—”

“Uncle!” You motion to the baby in his arms.

Damon chuckles at you before shaking his head. The celebration feast was in full swing, and mostly everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Your father was laughing with his hand while Rhaenyra danced with a few of the ladies from other houses. It did sadden you slightly that she appeared to be avoiding Lady Laena and your uncle, but now wasn’t the time to check in on her. The last thing you wanted was to upset her by mentioning it. You fully believed Rhaenyra would be happy for them, but it would mean the three of them wouldn’t be able to spend so much time together.

Feeling eyes on you, you look at the table closest to the high table at your end and see Harwin talking to two young ladies who resembled the house's strong appearance. Harwin grins when he catches you staring, and you smile back. Usually you would have gone over and introduced yourself, but with Aerion sleeping so peacefully in your arms, you were reluctant to disturb him.

“Fucking greens,” Daemon mumbles, looking over at the opposite side of the room where the Hightowers from Old Town were sitting, all of them wearing green clothing.

You sigh, “Don’t let their presence ruin the night, uncle. We have far too much to celebrate, my sons; my wedding; you having a baby of your own.”

“Speaking of sons,” Daemon chuckles as Vaegon grips his long silver hair with his tiny hand, then pulls it. “I predict this little dragon will love sparring when he’s older.”

You laugh until the music stops, and everyone looks to the hall's entrance to see the Queen. You roll your eyes. “I guess she finally decided to grace us with her presence.”

As Alicent approached the high table everyone stood, everyone but you and Daemon, which didn’t go unnoticed by others. You cuddled Aerion closer to you when Alicent stood in front of you and said, “Congratulations, stepdaughter.”

She moves on quickly without glancing at your uncle, who was beside you. When the queen is out of earshot and the music resumes, Daemon takes a gulp of wine with his free hand before leaning into you and asking, “Would you like my advice?”

“Naturally.”

“You and Ser Harwin should take your sons to the dragon out, fly to Dragonstone tonight, and ask for a septon as soon as you arrive.”

Rijes aōt, ñuha gevie niece! - Congratulations, my beautiful niece!

#house of the dragon #ser harwin strong x reader #ser harwin strong x you #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon x reader #ser harwin strong #broken bonds #ser harwin strong fanfiction #Ser Harwin Strong/reader #harwin strong/reader #harwin strong fanfic #harwin strong x reader #ser harwin breakbones #harwin strong/you

[pet-pet-peet]

Omg!!! Your latest post!! Its so freaking cute that I HAVE to request for part 2!! You don't have to write it. After that night, the reader start to have feelings for Lilia and they don't know what those feelings are so she start to avoid him again! Lilia got tired of this and did something that made her blush soooooo red!!! I hope you know where I'm going with this fluffy cloud plot!

P. S congrats!!

Thank yoouu! Omg this sounds so cute, I can’t even haha

* This is female reader, but I generally don’t use many gendered terms in my writing..just know that I’ll opt more for feminine ones if I add any (aka, probably good for anyone, but the occasional gendered term will be female)

I am trying to go through my drafts and post the ones I had done, this will not be inspired by canon!

Previous

Tw: shy reader, but not like super stuttery just very nervous and anxious; a bit ooc- but like…my simp heart, you can't blame me; kind of cheesy-

Pairing(s) Lilia x female reader who’s too shy to ask him to take her to the sky with him

It just wasn't fair- not fair at all. You would have imagined forming a bond with someone, who used to make you so timid, would cause more comfort. In your case, however, your true feelings began to sprout instead; they intensified the nerves. Anytime you were found by the fae, anytime he called out your name or lingered close, your heart lit abuzz. You couldn't shake the heat shrouding your nerves, the warmth in your face. It's grown to ridiculous levels, in your mind- just hearing his name caused you to cease functioning. As a result, you started avoiding him again. Ever since Lilia flew with you, he started talking with you more; walking you to your classes or dorm, passing notes via bat in history. You began to bond more and more, which is what originally caused your current predicament. Anything he did was enchanting to you, from his terrible cooking to his sly attitude when challenged. It made you feel like a stupid, cliche, lovesick fool; you didn't like it. You had enough to worry about. There were so many responsibilities you had to take care of, you didn't have time to fall in love. It was just a distraction, one you needed to distance yourself from. So you did just that. And it didn't go unnoticed. Lilia would patiently listen to your stuttered excuses, your reasons to not be around him. He would watch you turn a corner and immediately retreat back when you made eye contact with him. You began ignoring his notes in class, and cleverly found ways to avoid him on your way to your dorm. He didn't like it at all, but not because he craved your attention. He didn't like that you were holding in your emotions, he wanted to help you learn to be more open to how you feel. Most of all, he wanted you to communicate that with him over you avoiding him. "Gao~!" He yelled, appearing in front of you at the end of class, just before you could leave. He laughed at your little gasp of shock. "My dear, that was quite an adorable reaction! Perhaps I shall spook you more from now on?" You cleared your throat and avoided looking into his eyes. "Um..okay. I have to go, though..so.." Lilia frowned as he watched you fidget uncomfortably. He sighed, turning upright so his feet made contact with the ground. "May I inquire about your troubles?" You became noticeably more distant, making the old fae frown deeper. "Do they involve me?" You tense a bit, fidgeting with your hands before sighing and grabbing his. He allowed you to drag him away to a place with less people, patiently watching you after you let him go and took a deep breath. "It's just..that I've caught feelings.." You managed to get out, swallowing the nerves piling in your throat. Lilia hummed, "I see. I assume you mean for me, yes?" You nod in response and he begins to chuckle. Looking back at him, he has a sweet smile scrunching his face. "I'm very happy to hear you be honest with your feelings. Thank you for communicating with me, I cherish such trust wholeheartedly," to emphasize his point, he put a hand over his heart. You become nervous at his response, feeling as though it didn't exactly give any insight into how he feels about you. "So..do you? Have feelings for me, I mean.." The anxiety you felt caused your voice to soften. There was a hum from Lilia as he put his hand on his chin and studied your reactions. Your eyes darted away from his observant ones and he chuckled once more. "My dear," He whispered, his breath suddenly close to your ear. You were certain he could hear your heartbeat quicken. "If you wish for me to help you dance among the stars, I shall. As such, if you wish for me to cradle your heart in mine, I shall do that as well." You turned your face in his direction, but he had already moved out of your view and picked you up from behind. His crimson eyes looked into yours with amusement before he kissed your cheek and slowly floated outside. "Shall we go on a quick flight then, love?"

#twisted wonderland #twst #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #why cant I be as smooth as I write Lilia to be?????