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moonlighter-at-midnight · 1 year

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ror | shiva x reader | the hot spring screwup

hi there! this is my first writing piece in yeeeears so sorry if it’s booty. i originally was working on a buddha chapter piece but got this idea and decided to post this first since it’s just a little one off thing. the idea of the reader’s character is basically the same as the one that i will be writing about in the buddha piece. so if you like this, be on the lookout for that release! also, i have only watched the anime so what I know is solely based on that (with some additional research courtesy of professor google) so if there are any inaccuracies, i apologize! anyway, please enjoy! ♡

warnings: nudity, no sexy time but heavily alludes to it, basically straight up mentions wanting to bang shiva

spice level: 🌶️🌶️🌶️/5

You sigh dreamily as you step into the steaming water, sinking down until you were submerged from the neck down. Your tense muscles unraveled and the dull ache of your wounds waned, sending you into a state of pure euphoria. In life, you had fought in a myriad of brawls, but none quite like this. It was a battle of souls, a bout that would affect humanity’s fate, and against a god no less. However, you had managed to overpower your opponent in the very end, saving your soul from decimation and adding another triumph under humanity’s belt — and all at the cost of a badly broken arm, cracked ribs, and bruised lungs. Despite the advanced technology and medicine of the god realm, it did little to quell your pain. Thankfully, one of the nurses told you about the incredible hot spring, and you were all too pleased to learn that the bandages were infused with some type of magic that allowed it to get wet. Valhalla was sure an interesting place.

The idyllic silence is abruptly broken when you hear several pairs of feet shuffle into the area. You grumble quietly at having to share the divine space. You were not in the mood to interact with people especially if they were gods. That was the very last thing you wanted. But, the hot spring seemed spacious enough and paired with the heavy shroud of steam, you’d probably have very minimal to no contact with whoever else had entered. As long as you stayed in your little nook at the far side of the spring, they wouldn’t bother you right?

“This was a good idea. I’m getting riled up and tense waiting for my turn to fight. If only old man Zeus hadn’t browbeat me into letting him take my turn. This will definitely help loosen me up.”

You freeze, your once relaxed muscles stiffening at the sound of the booming voice.

What?? Is that a man’s voice? It couldn’t be.. No, it has to be a mistake…this is the women’s hot spring…maybe it’s just a woman with a deep voice. Yeah, that’s it..a woman with a deep voice, you think to yourself trying to assuage your panicking mind. Your breathing grows shallow as you nervously listen for affirmation that these were indeed women. Females. Girls. Fellow vagina owners. And not men.

“Always itching for a fight huh Shiva? Glad to know you haven’t changed,” another voice says as multiple laughs erupt into the air.

Your stomach drops, and you feel like it’s falling out of your butt as your fears are dismally confirmed. Not only were they men, but at least one of them, if not all, were gods.

Fuck me.

You try to ever so silently press yourself against a rock in the farthest corner possible, dipping yourself lower into the water so that you were only visible from the nose up. If it weren’t for the thick steam emanating from the spring, you surely would have already been noticed.

The water sloshes and ripples as the men make their way into the spring, causing your anxiety to further skyrocket as your chances of a clean escape begin to dwindle. You had to get the hell out of here. You try to devise a plan to flee undetected or at least without your identity being discovered. If you ever meet the legendary Mulan, you’d have to ask her how the hell she did it. But, here were the cold, hard facts: You were butt ass naked. At least five to six men were here, probably all gods, one of them being the all powerful Shiva. The exit and your towel were on the completely opposite side of where you were. You had a broken arm, broken ribs, broken everything really; you were in no condition to fight.

Plan A: Jump out of the spring from where you were and run like hell. High risk of slipping, falling, breaking your neck, and then having your dead, naked body discovered by a bunch of male gods. Next.

Plan B: Walk across the spring and hope that you don’t get noticed. High risk of getting caught and bumping into someone who will kill you and then having your dead, naked body discovered by a bunch of male gods. Next.

Plan C: Swim underwater. The water seemed clear enough. However, your lungs were bruised, and although not fatal or very serious, that put your breath holding capacity to maybe like five seconds. Ten if you were feeling daring. Not to mention you had only one good arm. You were sure this plan would probably also lead to your dead, naked body being discovered by male gods. Next.

Plan D: Quietly stay behind this rock and hope they leave without ever detecting your presence. Hmmm. Alright, (y/n), okay. I might be on to something here. They haven’t discovered me yet, and they’re probably on the other side and are totally not going to come over here. No risk of being discovered dead and naked. None whatsoever.

You nod to yourself, stupidly confident in your plan and so totally absorbed in your own thoughts that you failed to notice the white haired, smoking man that had peered at you from over the other side of the rock.

“Who are you? Why you hiding behind this rock?” the man asks nonchalantly.

You jerkily pause your head mid-nod and slowly look up at him. At this point, you were still only visible from the nose up. And just like that, your plan had gone up in flames.

“Well? Are you going to say something or are you just going to hide in the water?” he speaks again.

“Indra, who are you talking to over there?” yells one of the men.

“I found some guy hiding over here. Varuna, clear the steam will ya?”

Suddenly, the dense haze of steam dissipates. You peek out from behind the rock and are confronted by five other pairs of intense eyes. The white haired man, who you gathered as Indra, gets down from the rock and joins the rest of the group. Among the men was a blue man with an elaborate headdress, a long, white haired man with some sort of weird mask over his face, a large, tan man with purple beads around his neck, a black, spiky haired man with four arms adorned with several tattoos, and last but not least, the one with the most intense aura of them all — a purple, four armed man, with a third eye in between his eyebrows. You gulp.

This isn’t good.

“Yo, who are you and why are you hiding?” says the purple guy aggressively.

He locks eyes with you as he approaches. You instinctively scoot back. As you watch him scrupulously, something in his demeanor and appearance tells you that this guy is Shiva. And if it you weren’t so unnerved and being backed into a corner by him, you’d say he was actually quite hot. Too bad he was probably going to snap you like a twig.

“I’ll ask you one more time before I force the answer out of you,” he asserts, cracking his knuckles to emphasize his point.

You feel your body slump in defeat. There was no way out of if it. You were out of options and better to maybe try and explain yourself instead of foolishly staying silent. You take a deep breath through your nose before standing up fully. It was the first time you felt truly blessed for being vertically challenged as the water was about chest deep on you, covering your goods.

Everyone looks at you with some degree of surprise and shock as they realize that you’re a human woman. Shiva specifically gazes at you hard. Something about you seemed familiar, although he knew he’d never seen your face before. He would never forget a human who looked as exceptionally stunning as you. But then it clicked. The broken arm, the (y/c) eyes — you were one of the Einherjar. He had witnessed your fight earlier, but your all black shinobi outfit revealed nothing but your eyes, thoroughly concealing your appearance. You had been introduced with only the first initial of your given name revealed which further added to the obscurity. He, the other gods, the humans, and the legends passed down about you, all speculated you were a man, but clearly history was very wrong. Regardless, he was too enamored in the battle itself to have paid any attention to the individuals fighting in it. But now that you were in front him, fully exposed and vulnerable, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. He also couldn’t help but observe the way beads of water sensually glided down your body and into the valley of your breasts, disappearing into unseeable territory — territory he wanted to explore and conquer. And the way you shyly looked up at him through your lashes only made him curious to know what that pretty face would look like when he did it.

Shiva smirks. ”A human huh? You were that one fighting earlier weren’t you? (first initial f/n) (l/n) right?”

You couldn’t help but feel incredibly flustered from being basically naked in front of bunch of a men whose eyes were all on you. Especially Shiva’s. You could feel him unabashedly scrutinizing every inch of you, his eyes darkening with desire. Your face burns red, and you look away.

Damn, he has me so hot and bothered. Why is he so good looking?

“Yeah, that’s me…you can call me (f/n). Uhm, look I don’t want to cause any trouble so if you could just let me pass, I’d really appreciate it…” you manage to utter.

“Go right on ahead,” Shiva says, still smirking. He steps aside making way for you to pass. The other men follow suit.

Why does this seem too easy?

“Thank you…also, could you guys turn around?”

The other gods glance at each other and shrug and start moving at your request. All except Shiva of course.

“I prefer to watch,” he says impishly, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Your eyes widen, and you snap your head towards him. “But!” you start to object.

“You can walk out yourself or I can do it for you. Which one will it be, Miss (y/n)?” His smirk only grows wider. The other gods only shake their heads at his antics.

A shiver runs down your spine. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know what the latter meant (or maybe you did), but you had set your mind on getting out of there. Taking another deep breath, you start making your way out of the water. You put your good arm across your breasts as the water level curtails the closer you get to the edge of the spring. Shiva’s eyes remains fixated on you, not daring to miss a single moment.

Here goes.

Taking the final step out the water, the cold air swathes your naked body and you break out in goosebumps. You briskly rush to your towel in a desperate but futile attempt to cover your ass from Shiva who’s enjoying every second of it. You try to ignore his scorching stare on your backside as you finally grab your towel and wrap it around you, gripping it tightly with your good hand. You sigh heavily.

So much for not letting the gods see me naked. But at least I’m not dead and naked.

You’re about to head towards the exit when a hand grips your towel, jolting you forward into them. Your startled eyes come face to face with Shiva’s devilish ones. You somehow maintain the grasp on your towel, although it becomes dangerously close to being pulled off you. Your eyes unintentionally trail down, half relieved to see a towel around him, yet half disappointed. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Shiva who could only revel in the reactions he elicited from you.

What is wrong with me?

Normally, you’d never let someone toy with you like this, never mind this overwhelming sexual desire you had for this man. But the carnal look in Shiva’s eyes, his sexy smirk, his muscular physique, his tantalizing, brazen demeanor — it was enough to make you putty. You couldn’t imagine how you’d act if he touched you.

“(y/n), you know what? I decided I don’t want you to go. Why not stay with me from a while?” His grip tightens on your towel, his knuckles grazing your skin.

You shudder at the slight brush of his skin on yours. It feels like an electric shock has run through you and into your very core. As you consider the tempting offer, a little voice in the back of your head starts to emerge from the depths of your lust smitten brain.

No matter how hot he was, he was still a god. Someone who wanted the destruction of humanity and who undoubtedly would be participating in Ragnarok on the side of the gods. The answer is obvious. I should say no… plus I mean, like, a god and a human? Is that even allowed? There’s just no way. I can’t just do naughty things with him…right?

“I should really go..” you say half heartedly, clearly conflicted.

“It wasn’t a request (y/n),” he says, his eyes darkening as he pulls you against him.

Before you’re able to respond, someone clears his throat behind you. You both look to see the other four armed god, a pair of arms resting on his clothed hips and the other pair of arms crossed loosely at his waist. “Shiva, you should let her go. Don’t force her.”

You almost object to his usage of the word force but decided it would be best to keep your mouth shut.

“Ahh, Rudra. You’re always so serious. I was just having some fun,” Shiva responds light heartedly, loosening his grip on your towel. “But, I guess you’re right! You know best!”

Before you had a chance to protest, Shiva had already let you go and was headed back towards the water, a pair of arms nonchalantly behind his head. You stood there, stunned at the abrupt loss of his closeness and touch. Feeling disappointed would be an understatement. You turn and manage to mutter a thank you to Rudra who nods his head in acknowledgment before also heading back to the water where the other gods had silently been watching everything unfold.

You watch Shiva as he descends further into the spring, his back facing you. You sigh dejectedly. Steam begins to fill the air again, but before Shiva is completely engulfed, he looks back at you, smirk plastered on his face as he winks at you. Your face flushes, and you could feel heat rushing to your core. Something told you that this wouldn’t be the last time you would see him.

extra scene

You hastily leave the hot spring and into the locker room. As you start to change, you replay the events of what happened in your head. The more you think about it, the more increasingly irritated you become. You were unsure if it stemmed from pent up sexual frustration or from being cornered in a potentially perilous, but completely avoidable, situation. Whatever it was, you were peeved and wanted to take it out on someone, and you knew exactly who. Once you’re fully dressed, you storm to the reception area of the hot springs and furiously approach the front desk. The same teen who checked you in was still there, face still buried in the same magazine as when you had first arrived. If he had taken his eyes off his magazine for two seconds instead of just waving you over to the male side, you wouldn’t be in this mess.

“Excuse me!” you say sharply, slamming the key card down on the counter. This spooks the teen boy into dropping his magazine, face twisted in bewilderment and fear.

“Y-Y-yes ma’am? How can I be of service to you?” the young kid stutters, scared shitless by the cross look on your face and the intense aura you exuded.

“You waved me into the male side of the hot spring! Do you know the kind of mess you got me into?! Do I look like a man to you?!”

His eyes widen, mortified. He had only hoped nothing bad happened to you. He couldn’t afford to lose this job. His mom would kill him.

“I am so sorry ma’am! No, of course I don’t think you look like a man. I must’ve made a mistake when I scanned your key card!”

He was sure that all the key cards he had scanned today belonged to all males, but even he couldn’t deny that he never really paid attention to the actual person coming in and could’ve easily made a mistake. He takes the key card and scans it, scouring the information on the computer. He looks at the screen then looks at you then back at the screen. Well no wonder he waved her over to the male side. She raises an eyebrows questioningly.

“Is something wrong?”

“Uh, your name is (f/n) (l/n) right?”

“Yes, and?”

He turns the computer screen to you. A picture of you in your fighting attire served as your ID picture and in bold letters under “sex” read male. It suddenly all made sense. You can only snort at the revelation.

“I’m sorry ma’am! I believe there was a mistake when creating your key card! I can get that fixed up. We just need to take a new picture and change you over to female-“ but before he could finish, you snatch the key card from him.

“Nope, that’s okay! That’ll be all! Thanks!” you exclaim hurriedly, setting a generous amount of bribe money down on the counter before scurrying away.

Maybe I can “accidentally” run into Shiva again.

You smile giddily to yourself as you fantasize about your next encounter with the devilishly handsome god.

The teen watches you run away, dumbfounded. “I need another job,” he complains to himself. He gathers the money and slowly grins to himself as he counts the stack of bills you left. “Or maybe not,” he says to himself, tucking the money into his pocket. He had a feeling he would probably be “accidentally” waving you over to the male side again.

shoutout to those who caught the mean girls reference! sorry if you read this nonsense lol i kept editing and rewriting for days and eventually got fed up and decided to just post it. hopefully, i’ll get better at writing!

#shiva #shiva ror #ror #record of ragnorak #anime #fanfic #shiva record of ragnarok #rudra ror #rudra #snv #snv shiva #snv rudra #shiva x reader #shiva ror x reader #ror x reader

238 notes · View notes

freesia-writes · 11 months

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OMG congratulations on hitting 500!!!!

i love these prompts and its so hard to choose lol.

definitely Kix and i'm thinking i like #16.

"I've seen the way you look at me, when you think I'm not looking. You don't think I've noticed…"

thank you darling, and here's to 100 more! 💜🧡

Thank youuuu! I appreciated your suggestions on this one! :D Hope it's a fun read. <3

Kix x GN!Jedi!Reader Word Count: 3k Content Warnings: PG-13 battle stuff, medical treatment, and kissin. Dividers courtesy of @djarrex

GORGEOUS KIX FACE by @rosemarynightmares-art (though this story takes place when he still had his short buzz cut, I had to share it cause his eyes and lips are just... *MWAH*)

Your lightsaber was a blur in front of you, deflecting blaster bolts and sending them flying back toward the rows of droids. The sound was deafening, lights flashing everywhere, shuddering blasts rocking the ground, but you were honed into the Force, silencing all but your own path through it all. The Separatists were retreating, scattering and falling back to the canyon beyond, and you and the 501st were pressing forward.

A pained yell to your left caught your attention, as you heard and felt the trooper get shot in the thigh. He collapsed, still trying to level his DC-17 at the droids ahead, and you leapt in front of him, providing cover as the rest of the squad continued to force the retreat. As the air slowly cleared, the battle dying down for the time being, you turned to place your hand on the fallen trooper, heart aching at the pain you felt radiating from him. You channeled all the energy you could into a peaceful, soothing presence that you directed toward him, feeling his breathing slow just a little bit. It wasn’t much, but it was all you could do.

You saw Clone Medic Kix running from body to body, working at the speed of light. You marveled at his nimble fingers and singular focus, triaging the injured clones, treating some on the spot, and organizing the transports back to a medical bay. You heard Captain Rex giving orders for the squad to reorganize and report to the staging area, and you gingerly lifted the injured trooper to your shoulder, draping his arm across to support his one-legged hobble back toward safety.

You’d been with the 501st for a number of months; shifting needs of the war had stolen you from your previous post. But you’d been grateful for the camaraderie and truly unique brotherhood that existed within the boys in blue. You’d grown incredibly fond of them, feeling each one’s unique presence in the Force and enjoying the way they all meshed together while being so incredibly different individually. One in particular was nestled close to your heart…

Lowering the injured trooper onto a gurney, you met Kix’s eyes as he arrived to scan the clone, making notes on his datapad and instructing the transport.

“Thanks for your help,” he said, too focused to smile but emanating gratitude and affection nonetheless. You could feel his spirit -- kind and fearless, determined and intentional -- and your heart fluttered, sending some alarm bells ringing through your head.

“No problem,” you answered, jerking your eyes away at the sensations that his soulful gaze was causing within you. You gave him a formal nod, then left to attend to your own matters.

“Come on,” Jesse poked, both literally and figuratively as he jabbed his elbow into your side. “We hardly ever get to come to Alderaan’s surface. It’s not only fun, but easy on the eyes too, and you’re way too uptight.”

“I appreciate the beauty, but the Quint sector isn’t really my scene, Jesse,” you deflected, feeling Kix’s eyes on you from across the transport, along with a prickling sense of anticipation from him. You were all strapped in, shooting toward the planet’s surface as you watched the star cruiser fade into the distance behind you. There had been a special exception made (most likely due to the Organas' extreme kindness and generosity) for the clone squads to enjoy a couple days of rest and relaxation while their cruiser picked up some supplies and waited for the next destination. The gently curving buildings flying past the window were clean and light, sparkling in the sun, and it felt as though the war didn’t even exist here.

“Have you ever been?” Jesse prodded, leaning forward with a knowingly arched eyebrow. You knew he had you there, and pressed your lips together firmly, sending him a look. “Ha! I knew it. Well, it’s just irresponsible to not explore a new place. Maybe it’s extra strong in the Force or something. It’ll make your magic even more powerful. Or supercharge your lightsaber…”

A wave of mirth rippled throughout the troopers in their seats, and you grinned, unable to be mad at Jesse’s indomitable spirit. You were warmed to the core at the energy among the 501st -- they had accepted you easily upon your arrival, they trusted you fully, and they had warmly welcomed you into not only their battles but their free time. You’d learned some details about heavy artillery from Hardcase, enjoyed a lecture about the discrepancies between certain manuals from Echo, and had even been taught by Fives how to never leave the bar alone at night. Not that you’d asked for any of these, but you couldn’t resist the earnest delight of each clone as they shared their various interests and insights.

You’d worked alongside Kix only briefly, feeling deeply unsettled by the inexplicably different vibe you got from being in the same room as him. He’d started off with a few cheesy pick-up lines, which immediately fell flat, and then stuck to strictly business. There was something about his soul that called out to you, though, and you tried to walk the thin line between enjoying his company, working shoulder to shoulder, and keeping things professional. You were grateful he wasn’t Force-sensitive, able to pick up on your feelings and thoughts, and were constantly torn between removing yourself from his presence altogether or refusing to miss out on an opportunity for connection.

You shook your head, bringing yourself back to the present, where the clones had moved on to other topics of conversation. Apparently, it was decided that you’d be joining them to the Quint district on Alderaan, which was nothing like 79s but was as close as you could get in this sector.

Hours later, after some time to clean up, you met the clones at the address they’d sent you, surprised to see them in their civvies. You couldn’t help but rake your eyes over Kix, who was engrossed in conversation with Echo and looked more diminutive without his armor, more inviting somehow. You pushed the thought from your mind, waving to the group and taking a seat next to Dogma, who sat silently at the end of a large table.

“Ha! I knew the Jedi would come!” Jesse announced triumphantly, smacking Fives on the chest. “You owe me!”

“Well you basically bullied your way into that one,” Fives grumbled, elbowing Jesse right back. “You clean up nice,” he commented, giving you his infamous eyebrow waggle, which broke a bit of the tension you were feeling at not knowing quite what to do with yourself. You grinned, giving a playful shrug, and allowed yourself to soak up a bit of the joviality of the room. It was so different from 79s, even though the general purpose was the same, but it was absolutely beautiful. All of the furniture and walls were gently curved and boasted cool, tranquil colors of white, gray, blue, and green. The volume wasn’t too loud, but the place was filled with comfortable tables and chairs at different levels, each organized into little conversation areas that were cozy and welcoming.

“I’m going to grab a snack. Anyone want anything?” you offered, met with a cacophony of eager responses. You made your way to the counter to place an order, barely opening the menu before feeling a warmth beside you.

“Figured you’d need a hand carrying it all back,” Kix explained, a small smile curving his sharp features. You felt a rush in your chest, smiling and nodding in return. The feelings were growing, and you’d managed to keep them strictly under wraps, but every interaction with him was fanning the flame. It felt precarious… and enticing. You made a mental note to spend more time in meditation, to release any attachments and stay true to your singular commitment to the Jedi code.

Once the order was placed, there was nothing to do but wait, and you found yourself lost in conversation with Kix within minutes. You had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, and he was more than happy to share some of the most baffling, unique, and tragically disgusting cases he’d come across in his medical career so far. You laughed and questioned, fascinated by his adventures so far, and found yourself thoroughly elated as he finished a story that you were fairly certain was heavily embellished.

The discussion took a turn after a little while, moving to more serious and heavy things. How he managed to keep cynicism and disillusionment at bay, you didn’t know, as he recounted brother after brother who had been lost in the war efforts. Your heart ached for him, feeling the complex emotions washing over him in wave after wave. He fell silent for a moment, running a hand over his intricately shaved and tattooed head, and you found yourself wanting to do the same. Tenderly, intimately…

A sharp inhale brought you back to your senses, and you turned promptly to return to the table, “Just come get me when the food is ready?” you called over your shoulder, desperately needing to flee his presence. You plopped into your seat next to Dogma, who cast an inquisitive glance your way.

“Empty-handed?” he asked, expression softening the intimidatingly sharp tattoo across his face.

“Kix is waiting for the food,” you explained dismissively. “So… I have yet to hear your tattoo story…” Anything to take your mind off of the slightly confused medic, still standing by the counter, watching you with a furrowed brow.

This battle was not going well. Plasma cannons echoed all around as blast after blast rained down where you and the 501st were hunkered in some of the flimsiest cover you’d ever seen. Rex and Jesse were quickly discussing an alternate plan, as shot after shot whistled through the trees around you. You made a few suggestions, revised the final strategy, then Rex announced it to the squad. On his signal, you charged in two groups, left and right, sprinting for the identified landmarks that might allow you to curb the frontal assault that was far more than intelligence had suggested it would be.

Suddenly, a huge cannon explosion landed nearby, causing one of the massive trees to crackle and waver. You looked up in horror as it teetered, roots ripping up from the earth, and began to crash through the forest canopy above as it fell… right toward a group of clones who were running toward their designated target. They were almost clear of its path… but one fell, shot in the stomach, and Kix was right beside him in an instant, scrambling to drag him clear. Horror clenched your chest, and without thinking, you ran toward them, using every tattered bit of energy you had to Force-throw them out of the way. As they landed on a nearby bush, the injured clone yelling in pain, you leapt over the tree as it smashed onto the ground where they had just been.

As you jumped down, focused entirely on the clones below, you missed the sizzling blaster bolt that was headed straight for you, tearing through your upper arm. A yelp escaped your lips as you landed, grimacing at both the searing pain and your own lack of awareness that could have prevented it.

The steady beeps of the equipment in the room were soothing as you dozed, comfortably bandaged and bacta-d up. You’d made it through the rest of the battle, reaching the drop zone and being lifted back to the ship with the squad. Fortunately, you’d been shot on an external limb, so the outlook wasn’t so dire as it would be from a direct torso hit. As you slowly woke up, feeling rummy and warm, you suddenly became aware of a presence beside you.

Kix was laying out a few items on a tray, not even looking at what he was doing in favor of watching you regain consciousness. His amber eyes were deep with concern and care, and you were flushed with sheepishness all of a sudden. Why did it have to be him…

“Sorry to wake you,” he said softly, his smooth voice a caress to your ears. “It’s time to change the bandage and place another injection before the last one wears off.” He was strictly business, but you could feel the internal conflict within him, realizing how much it matched your own. None of it was allowed. It couldn’t end well. There was no possibility…

“It’s ok,” you answered, trying to sit up as best you could with only one arm. He was beside you quickly, lifting you up, and the faint whiff of his unique scent reached your nose. Sterile, musky, clean, and… manly. You were quickly spiraling down a path that you knew was not a wise one. “I’m just going to… uh… meditate… while you do that…” you muttered, needing an escape from his intoxicating closeness. He smirked, nodding without a word, and slowly began to unwrap the gauze around your bicep. You closed your eyes, reaching for that place within, trying to sink deeply into it and release all the thoughts and feelings that were buzzing around your head. But you couldn’t. No matter how hard you tried, your senses were holding you firmly to the present. Kix’s gentle hands. The quiet sound of his breathing. The smell of him as he leaned over to unwrap the last bit.

You suddenly felt a weight on the side of the bed, next to your legs, and opened your eyes in surprise to see that he had taken a seat next to you. So incredibly close. And was leaning forward with a furrowed brow and intense squint as he examined the wound. Your heart flipped in your chest. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It all felt so intimate, even without any overt affection…

“I’d warn you that this will hurt, but I know you’re a tough one,” he said playfully as he readied the bacta injection to ensure there was no long-term bone, muscle, or ligament damage. You flinched as he placed it, but he was right -- you’d been through much worse. And the internal torment was completely distracting. As he moved to apply a light layer of gel across the stitched-up shot, he leaned closer and spoke quietly, feather-light fingers tracing over the gnarled flesh. “Tough… and kind… and brave… and intriguing… and beautiful…” he murmured, keeping his eyes fixed on your arm as though he’d explode if he looked anywhere else.

“Kix,” you breathed, studying his intensely focused face, “What are you doing?” His words reverberated within your very soul, shocking you with their unveiled honesty and affection. He fell silent for a moment, placing a patch over the wound and smoothing the adhesive around its edges, then finally lifted his eyes to yours. It sent a jolt of electricity through your body that continued to be amplified as he scooted slightly closer, picking up your hand in both of his.

“I've seen the way you look at me, when you think I'm not looking. You don't think I've noticed…" he said, voice barely above a whisper. Your mouth fell open slightly, completely stunned. You’d thought you’d kept it under wraps, keeping everything on a formal, friendly, professional level, and had also assumed that you were the only one privy to the thoughts and feelings of others. Clearly you hadn’t been as subtle as you thought. You searched for words but had none, eyes darting back and forth between his, tingles radiating up the arm from the hand he was gently holding.

“I can’t… I don’t…” you began, and he smiled faintly, looking down at your hand, nodding silently to himself.

“I know,” he whispered, taking a deep inhale before lifting his head to yours again. “But…” his voice grew stronger as his eyes took on a roguish gleam, “We may all be dead tomorrow, so…”

His sudden levity burst through the tension, and you surrendered to the ecstatic flurry within as he leaned in, careful to avoid your injured arm, reaching one hand up to gently cup the side of your face. He drew closer, confident yet unsure, eyes intently searching yours for a response. He leaned his forehead against yours for a moment, and your ragged breathing seemed disproportionately loud. You could feel yourself opening up to him in a way, releasing the strict control of mind over body, leaning into the warmth and connection that was radiating between the two of you. Your eyes fluttered shut, lips parting slightly, and you tipped your chin upward to bring your lips together.

A sharp inhale through his nose signaled his surprise, but within a split second, he was melting into your kiss, hand roving down your neck to cup the back of your head. Your good hand pressed into his back, tilting your head to bury yourself as deeply in his face as you could. He pulled away, keeping his eyes closed for an extra second, smiling serenely, before meeting your gaze again. You lifted your good hand to his face, brushing the backs of your fingers along his pronounced cheekbone before tracing careful fingers along the side of his head. He basked in your touch, eyebrows arching up in the center, simultaneously blissful and pained at the reality of the situation, but that could be dealt with later.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” you whispered, gently raking your fingernails down the back of his neck, earning a shudder from him that made your heart sing.

“I know,” he answered, with a smug grin in your direction. “You don’t need the Force when you’re that obvious.”

“I thought I was being subtle,” you laughed, drowning in bliss as he leaned in again.

“You thought wrong,” he murmured against your lips, and you lost yourselves in each other once again.

#kix #clone wars kix #clone medic kix #clone trooper kix #tcw kix #kix x reader #kix x you #clone wars one shots #clone wars fic #clone wars fanfic #clone wars fluff #kix fluff

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words-like-water · 1 year

Text

False Infidelity

or the one where you think Gar is cheating on you.

Gar Logan x gn!reader

warnings: curse words courtesy of Jason Todd

word count: 1,096

request: @danversxwasabi "can you write about the reader dating Gar but, because of a misunderstanding, believing he cheats on her with Rachel? just some angst and fluff at the end."

a/n: My first request! I will always remember you, my love. I love requests. They are so much fun. Please keep sending lots of requests. Also, I know that the last post was in lowercase, but I'm trying different stuff out to see what I like. Also, there's no posting schedule right now, but I promise I'll have one eventually. This will all be a lot more orderly down the road.

Being a Titan is mentally and emotionally taxing.

Because of my powers —the ability to phase through anything and everything— I feel like I have to keep myself in check more often as my powers fluctuate with my feelings.

Which is kind of difficult considering I'm a fairly emotional person.

Thankfully, I have my loving boyfriend here to help me whenever I feel out of sorts.

In fact, the first time I met Gar, I was so nervous that I started sinking through the floor.

Gar Logan is the sweetest person I've ever met. He's always bringing me little things that he thinks will make me happy, and they do.

He lets me cuddle him while he plays video games; we bake together; and he lets me steal his clothes without complaining, and when they don't smell like him anymore, he just switches them out for ones that do.

And he's so helpful all the time. Reassuring me whenever I get anxious, cheering me up whenever I get really sad, and helping me stay calm whenever I get mad and extremely annoyed.

Like right now.

Dick had insisted that I practice fighting without triggering my powers.

So here I am, sparring with the most annoying person on Earth, trying to stay calm.

"Come on, is that all you got?"

Jason Todd dances around me on the mat.

I've been so busy trying not to get angry at his stupid comments that I've mostly been making defensive moves.

I know I'm reaching my limit. He makes some snarky comment and kicks at my torso. It never connects; his leg passes right through me.

The weight that he put into the kick was more than he anticipated. It throws his balance off, and he curses as he hits the mat.

With the look in his eyes, I can feel the venom ready to leave his mouth.

He stands up and resumes his fighting stance across the mat, and I can feel myself moving before he finishes shit-talking.

"Do you ever notice how much time Gar and Rachel spend together?" "You think they're fucking?"

My fist is flying faster than I can think and faster than he can move.

And he's lucky that I'm irritated because the power in this punch might have knocked a few of his teeth loose.

But it doesn't. Instead, I phase, and it sends me hurtling into the wall behind him.

Through the wall, actually.

And right into the hallway.

Where Gar and Rachel are standing really close. His hand touching the side of her face.

They both go silent, eyes wide like they hadn't expected me to be here. I mean, I did come out of the wall. No excuse though.

They look at each other and take a step back.

They both start with my name on the tip of their tongues, but I'm back through the wall before either of them can finish their lie.

Jason's coming at me with a smirk on his face, but I shove him out of the way before he can say anything either.

I yank my door open, stomp inside, and slam it shut all in one fluid motion.

I'm having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that Gar would cheat on me as I press my back against the door.

Rachel of all people

I slide to the floor.

Tears prick my eyes as I think about all of the signs I probably missed.

I'm thinking about how at dinner he always sits next to me, but directly in front of her.

All the looks they've probably shared during what Kory calls "family movie night." Looks that I've missed.

Before I know it, I can feel the wood behind me dissipating.

I shuffle away from the door, opting to pace back and forth in front of my bed as I try to calm down.

I think about how much easier this would be if Gar were here, and hot tears roll down my face.

Gar would be here if he weren't the one making me upset.

He would be here if he weren't with her.

Bile rises from my stomach at that thought, but I swallow it back down.

A knock on the door turns my heart into lead, but my body turns lighter than air, and I sink into the floor a little.

"Love, I know what you think you saw, but I promised nothing happened."

As Gar speaks, I can't decide if that's real remorse in his voice or regret for the fact that he got caught.

Still, I can't help the way that my body gravitates toward him in my state of distress. "Then why were you guys so close? Why were you touching her face? Hm?"

I hope he can hear the hurt in my voice.

"She had an eyelash in her eye." "I was just trying to help." I rip the door open.

"Did you have to touch her like that? Like you don't have a girlfriend?" I watch his face closely, searching for a tell that he's lying. Tears are still wetting my face.

He looks to the ground before his eyes meet mine again. "No, I didn't, but I wasn't thinking about it."

"You didn't think about the fact that you have a girlfriend!?" I'm hysterical at this point.

Gar hesitantly steps into the room, closer to me. "I didn't think about her like that when I was touching her face."

Once I'm within his arm's reach, he pulls me close by my waist. "It was completely platonic, baby, I swear." "I was just tryna help."

The way he's looking at me with so much love begins to make me question if I've been a little irrational. I just can't help it when I ask him anyway.

"So you still love me?"

"Yes, I promise I still love you with all my heart." His hands slip under my shirt to rub my lower back.

"And you're not cheating on me with Rachel?" I sniffled a little bit.

"No, baby, I'd never ever cheat on you, not with anyone." He pulls me into a hug, my face tucked into his chest.

"Can we cuddle, please?" My words muffle against his shirt, and he laughs, already pulling me towards the bed.

"Of course, we can, my love." He flops down onto my bed and pulls me on top of him.

I can already feel myself returning to normal as I fall into the comforting embrace of my lover.

Like always, being with Gar makes everything better.

#gar logan x reader #garfield logan #gar logan x fem!reader #titans x reader #gar logan angst #gar logan fluff

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noisolpxe · 4 months

Text

left - 01/08/24, right - 01/14/24

almost one week of nail growth, a bit of grooming in between these images so they're slightly different shapes (squared vs rounded) .... it's been about a month now but i wanted to share my progress of growth in just the past week!

more thoughts below the cut

just to start this off i wanna say i've been a chronic nail biter for as long as i can remember, it's something that went hand in hand with my anxiety & adhd — both my mom and stepdad also bite their nails too so i grew up around it (along with being shamed and scolded my entire life by those same people for biting my nails)

i'm very proud of the progress i've made so far, considering i started really working towards not biting my nails on dec 18 2023 ... it's now jan 14 2024, so it's been about a month of this journey trying to stop biting my nails

i don't have any advice to how i stopped biting my nails to anyone who's trying to stop, other than just. holding myself accountable and redirecting my energy towards other things. also being okay with catching myself wanting to bite my nails - such as putting my fingertips in my mouth and feeling the nails with my teeth but not biting down - i try very hard not to shame myself or be upset with myself because habits are Very hard to break. and earlier in this journey (first week or so) when i did end up biting my nails and having to start from scratch, i tried to stay positive about my progress and will continue to do so if i slip up again, yknow?

anyways. some things i've noticed since my nails are now longer than they've ever been in my life:

1. shit gets caught under my nails constantly!! this is why painting my nails black is good cuz it helps me not obsess and pick at them (don't worry, i groom very regularly so my nails Are Clean)

2. my nail beds need a lot more time to fully heal and that's okay! also, everyone's nail beds aren't 'perfect' or all symmetrical, and there's no need to obsess over "how" my nails are growing in, it's better to appreciate that they're healthy now and getting healthier by the day

3. there's certain little joys i find for myself as my nails have gotten longer - one of the main ones is that sometimes when i type on my phone now i can hear my right thumbnail clacking against the screen. i never thought i'd be to this point, but now it's an everyday occurrence!! also, being able to scratch my husband's back for real is so affirming - i actually have to be careful when scratching myself not to go too hard now, too, cuz there's nails and not just my fingertips digging into skin!

okay this is starting to get kind of rambly and honestly is mostly for myself to come back to as i continue my journey of trying to break the habit of biting my nails. i just wanna finish off by saying again that i am very proud of myself for the progress i've made so far and i'm excited to be able to look back at this post and see how much further i've come.

idk how to end this so. here's some more pics courtesy of my husband. im gonna go paint my nails again

#★

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jemmo · 10 months

Note

omg so one thing i noticed about the latest his man 2 eps was, like you said in another ask reply, seonwoo stuck his nose into hyungjun and minsung's business for absolutely no reason AND spilled stuff to hyungjun that minsung told him. he even told sungho what junsung said in the kitchen - the whole "i don't like people touching what's mine" and okay yeah whatever, apparently he loves creating drama even though he says he doesn't. however, on the other hand, when jeongwook asked junsung if he was the one yoonghee called, junsung just explained the whole misunderstanding and didn't even reveal who yoonghee actually wanted to call. isn't that common courtesy? isn't that also something seonwoo absolutely just doesn't think of doing? i'm really trying my best not to dislike seonwoo but every time he pulls someone to the side or corners them into a room to talk to them/reveal stuff people said to him, i just have to pause and ask myself "was that really necessary? why? what was the reason?" he's trying so hard to be the main character and it's getting on my nerves because this is a dating show. please focus on the person you're interested in, not your "rival" that you're forcing him to be and just let everyone else do their own thing naturally. god. anyway sorry for the rant, just needed to get this off my chest. 😭

this might just be my favourite his man 2 anon so far bc my dear you are so completely right and correct and valid for all of this I’m screaming for you 👏👏👏 like “was that really necessary?” is exactly what’s going through my head every time seonwoo has a conversation with someone

this comparison of how seonwoo and junsung handle information in the house is so beyond telling ESPECIALLY when you consider how they both handle sharing their own feelings vs sharing gossip/drama about other people, bc junsung handled that whole yonghee situation so perfectly, which sounds like an exaggeration bc it also wasn’t especially difficult, like yes if you know an error has been made, just sort it out with that person so they can do what they want with it and don’t share it with anyone else. you’re exactly right, it’s common curtesy, but also shows how seriously good hearted he is bc it never once ever occurred to him to use it against anyone or share it around as gossip. no, he just simply resolved the situation bc he does not care for the drama. let me say it again; HE DOES NOT CARE FOR THE DRAMA. seonwoo keeps trying to get under his skin and start shit and it gets on his nerves that junsung remains unphased. he entered this house and said I’m here for sungho, everyone else can do whatever, I’m gonna do my shit and just try and stop me. bc that’s the thing, he won’t disclose anyone else’s information or gossip but with his own feelings he will be so forward and direct and clear, precisely bc he doesn’t care for drama or misunderstandings, and bc he remains primarily concerned with himself and what he’s doing, knowing that if he stays true to himself and does what he wants, whatever happens at least then he won’t have any regrets.

seonwoo, on the other hand, will play so high and fast with other people’s words and gossip and drama and yet will hardly say a word about how he’s actually feeling. he will stick his nose into any situation and finds it so easy to just share not just what he’s said but what others have said in private conversations to others, and from what we see he doesn’t clarify whether this is information he can share. so yeah, sure, it’s cute he’s playing matchmaker for minsung and hyungjun, but did either of them ever ask him to? did either of them say hey can you help me out and be the go between telling him what I just said? bc minsung is still considering two options, and seonwoo just seems to be pushing hyungjun down his throat for i don’t even know what or if there is an ulterior motive, but no one is intruding on his situation with sungho and junsung so why he’s doing this I truly don’t know. I’m glad he seems to have a good friendship with minsung but at what point does he just start looking like a stirrer, like I swear how many of the conversations in eps 6 and 7 started bc seonwoo pulled someone to the side. and on top of that, from how many of those conversations did we actually learn how he feels about people. whenever he talks about sungho or yonghee, he says nice things that encourage his relationship with them, sure, but there’s only so many times I can hear “he’s special and not what I expected” and “I would like to try and date you sometime” before I’m asking ok but what does that mean?? how much are you interested and to what extent are you committed/willing to commit to this person??? the stuff that actually matters to the other people involved in these relationships. every conversation with him reminds me of jaewon in the eighth sense saying I’m not just gonna tell you my trauma, you have to coax it out of me and I’m sorry but you do not get the jaewon trauma pass.

and just to say… sungho isn’t out here starting drama either. in the kitchen, he simply says I talked to seonwoo to junsung, and doesn’t really go into anymore detail, bc he doesn’t feel the need to disclose everything. and in that conversation, they both hold a level of respect, junsung respecting the privacy of sungho’s conversation with seonwoo and sungho respecting the privacy of what seonwoo said. and yet without disclosing anything they manage to have a fruitful conversation that establishes where they’re all at, which is what the situation needs, clarity. and it just makes me mad that seonwoo doesn’t afford that same privacy to either of them. like it’s gone past a matter of intent for me, like whether he intends to or not, he is starting drama, and it’s too much.

#his man 2 #ofc I’m gonna answer a rant with another rant who do you think I am #but yes anon you have made so many good points #I just cannot watch him getting involved with minsung and hyungjun and see it in good faith like it gets under my skin knowing that he’s #doing all this interfering when these people should be allowed to develop their relationship on their own how they want and at their own #pace and it can’t help but make me think about how these two love triangles are playing out bc seonwoo’s situation is so much more #complicated than minsung’s who just likes two people and needs to decide who he’s gonna go further with #and yet seonwoo feels a need to get involved with that instead of sorting out his own mess like???????#what are you achieving from this from pushing hyungjun when despite it all minsung calls hyungjin bc he hasn’t decided yet #it feels like seonwoo is almost trying to make that decision for him and I don’t know what makes him think he’s being helpful or doing #something nice or right unless minsung has told him that he wants to focus on hyungjun and wants seonwoo to help #it’s just messy and god while it gets to me it makes fantastic tv

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shiningwonderland · 4 months

Text

Camus (All Star) Memorial

Translator: Mimi (twitter: _mimisaurora)

Memorial 8 - Camus-senpai's Birthday

This hot and humid country finally reaches comfortable temperatures in January.

I had been in a particularly good mood since morning, especially since today was the coldest day this winter.

…However.

“This afternoon there is a magazine interview. With Kotobuki and the others…”

I walked down one of the agency corridors and opened my planner to check my schedule, becoming slightly upset.

After the success of the Christmas Live, the number of times I had to work with those three has increased. It’s unbelievably annoying.

I have no interest in getting too acquainted with anyone.

I prefer to work alone when possible…

Just as I was heading up the stairs to the conference room where we were to meet, I caught sight of someone there.

It was…

“Good afternoon, Camus.”

“Aijima? What are you doing here? You were supposed to have the afternoon off.”

My Master Course kouhai stood in front of the door.

“I came here to tell you something.”

“You look oddly serious…. What is it? Keep it short.”

“Then… the… the cat is feline down!!”

What?

“...So you're incapable of taking care of yourself. Go back to your dormitory, it'd be trouble if you were ill and passed it on to others.”

I dismissed him with a wave of my hand, but he maintained his serious demeanor and didn't budge.

“Non. I am not actually sick. It is called a pun.”

“Are you kidding me? Look, I'm busy. Get out of my way.”

“Hm. That was not funny then. Well… this will be a whisk I’m willing to take.”

He followed that up with this strange motion. What on earth is trying to do?

“What are you saying? I’m not following.”

“It is not easy to convey. Puns are hard.”

“So learn if it's too difficult. Now move.”

“Ah, Camus, please wait!”

Aijima fussed about irrelevant things, asking why I was not laughing if I found him to be funny, but I couldn’t keep dawdling around.

I pushed him aside and opened the door, feeling I had wasted my time on something so trivial.

Moments after stepping into the conference room, I stiffen for a second at an odd touch brushed against me.

I glanced over to the side and noticed a familiar face.

“...Kurosaki. What is this?”

“...The earl seriously doesn't even recognize a cat wand when he sees one?”

A large white cat wand was waved in front of Ranmaru Kurosaki’s angry face.

“Of course I know what it is. My question is why you’d ever use that wand to tickle me.”

I heard a giggle on the other side of the room and turned to see Jinguji, Kurosaki's kouhai, standing up.

He also held a cat wand.

“Hmm, I knew this was a bad idea, Ran-chan.”

“What is a bad idea? Explain, Jinguji.”

“That’s a scary face you got there, Baron.”

“...Barons are different. I've told you countless times that's not what you call an Earl.”

“I do it only because of that look you get on your face.”

Jinguji shamelessly waved his cat wand from side to side.

“But as to what’s going on, we’re just here to assist. You’ll have to get the details from Bukki.”

“Bukki. Kotobuki.”

Surely, that man is the only person who would be capable of coming up with such nonsense.

Jinguji shared where I could find him, and I went back out into the corridor.

I have no idea what he’s scheming, but the magazine's interview itself must have been a sham, considering the set-up.

But Kotobuki is a shrewd man, and there most certainly seems to be more to it than just pulling a prank.

“Is it here?”

I braced myself a bit as I stood in front of the room I'd been directed to.

I knock lightly on the door out of courtesy, and open the door.

In that moment, I sensed a murderous aura and I dove backwards.

A fist whizzed across where I was standing just a second ago,

The assailant responsible was…

“....Mikaze!?”

I never would have suspected it to be him who, to my shock, turned to face me.

“...I was told that humans, when driven into a corner, can no longer do anything but laugh.”

“What… are you talking about…?”

His face lacked any emotion and for a split second, I was afraid of what he was about to do to me.

Even when I slowly backed away and braced myself, Mikaze didn't even move a brow.

His fist whizzed through the air.

I dodged by tumbling on the floor.

The shoulder of my suit became slightly torn by the mere force of his fist.

“Guh… Mikaze! What the hell did I ever do to you?”

“What you’ve done to me?”

Mikaze tilted his head for a moment.

“Oh, I know…. If I had to pick a reason, I’d say it was because you were born.”

“What!?”

As I turned myself around and put distance between us, I sensed a different kind of bloodlust emanating from behind me.

Mikaze didn't move, and I couldn't afford to turn my attention to this new threat, but could tell from his presence that it was…

“...Shinomiya.”

“Hi! I whipped up a yummy mushroom gratin for you today!”

Of course.

Managing to just direct my sights in his direction, I knew I'd find Shinomiya standing there with a gentle smile on his face.

In one hand he held a bowl of what looked to be gratin.

In the other, he held a purple mushroom dotted with yellow spots.

“I seriously hope that is not the kind of mushroom it was made with.”

“It’s a rockin’ color and super lovely, isn’t it? Apparently eating these guys will leave you bursting with laughter!”

Wait. Hold on a second.

First to deal with Mikaze, only to face Shinomiya after. I could successfully take them on individually, but together would prove to be a little tougher.

This is the first time I’ve encountered this kind of trouble since fighting alone against the assassins sent after Her Majesty.

I tried to calm my racing heart and work on a strategy to get through it.

In that moment, a single shadow leapt into view.

“Natsuki! Ai! I told you not to do this!”

“Kurusu!!”

Kurusu with his bullet-like speed ran in and tackled Shinomiya.

They fell over together in a heap and Kurusu called out to me with all his might.

“Camus-senpai! I’ll hold them back here, please run!!”

“U-Understood!”

It wouldn't be proper for an aristocrat to flee, but there is no way to avoid it. This was a strategic retreat.

“Reiji and the others are upstairs!!”

“Kurusu… I will never forget this sacrifice. I will look after your affairs when you are dead!!”

“Hold up, who said anything about me dying!?”

I went to run up the stairs, avoiding Mikaze’s pursuit.

Tsukimiya stood on the landing striking a strange pose for some godforsaken reason, eventually being dragged off by Hyuga, but there was no time to worry about the details.

I rushed, out of breath, to the very room I'd been told to go to.

But…

“There’s no one here…?”

Nonetheless...

I still felt something faintly wrong.

….

“Over here!!”

“Ribbit!”

Fully prepared, I threw the rubber ball I had in my pocket (originally intended to help kill time with Alexander), resulting in a part of the wall being ripped open and Kotobuki tumbling out with a frog-like shriek.

“Kotobuki… Was that your Saotome impersonation?”

“Eh, not at all. Well maybe. Something like that…”

I glared at him, and Kotobuki avoided his gaze.

…I can commend him for sensing the threat.

“I will only ask this once. Why did you do it?”

“About that. You see…”

Kotobuki let out a pitiful laugh as he put the tips of both index fingers together in front of his face.

“It was because, well, it’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

“Is that what this is about?”

Yes, it was January 23rd.

Today was my birthday.

Birthdays are one of the most important days for idols when it comes to business. It is impossible to forget.

“Is there a custom in Japan where people harass someone on their birthday?”

“That's not it! We’re all celebrating. We all came together to figure out what would be the best gift to give you.”

“How did that then evolve into this?”

I lowered my voice further, and Kotobuki's eyes shifted even more.

“Then, as we all talked about it, we agreed that giving you "stuff" just wasn't going to cut it.”

At that moment, as Kotobuki was writing the character “no” with his hand, the door to the adjoining room opened and Ittoki peeped out.

I couldn't believe he was here too.

“Look, people will usually consider getting something sweet when it comes to you, right? But that would be too easy.”

“Then when thinking about what to get you thought that maybe you’re the kind of person who’d like to get something for yourself.”

“Hmm… You’re not wrong.”

I nodded in agreement as both Kotobuki and Ittoki alternated speaking.

“And, you know, everyone always pictures you with a crease between the brows.”

“...Yes?”

“So, Rei-chan came up with an idea!”

Kotobuki suddenly raised his head and pointed his finger high in the air in a pose like some protagonist in a hero movie.

“We all came in agreement to give you this one thing, the gift of a smile!”

He moved his hand down to point at me, twirled and threw me a wink.

I felt about ready to pass out.

Kotobuki and Ittoki exchanged a smile of their own between them just as they were.

“We were just hoping to make you smile for your birthday.”

“...Hm. It would make for a nice story, generally speaking, sans the meddling of my affairs.”

“Isn’t it! They say memories are more valuable than material possessions.”

“I had to jump through many hoops to get everyone involved, especially Ai-ai and Shiny. But after talking to them about it, they agreed to participate!”

“How did… you explain the plan to Mikaze and Shinomiya at the time?”

“Hm? To those two? To make you smile. No matter the cost!”

No matter the cost. Hm.

I see…

“Huh? The shoulder seam of your suit’s ripped. What happened?”

“I understand now…”

I slowly clenched my hands into fists.

My shoulders trembled faintly.

“You people just want to see me smile.”

“Y-Yeah. That’s right but…”

“Then allow me to show you to your heart’s content… hehehehe.”

“Eh… Wait… That's not the kind of laughter we were looking for.”

I took a single breath.

Right as I inhale, the door Ittoki had just come through opens again, and this time I catch a glimpse of Hijirikawa and Ichinose wearing aprons.

“Kotobuki-senpai, the birthday dinner is ready….”

“Ah, Camus-san, you’re already here. In that case…”

“You two are in on it too? Noted…”

“Pardon?”

“What…?”

I snapped my fingers as they all looked at each other.

“You all go stand over there right now!!”

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”

—Some time after.

I finished the birthday dinner prepared by Ichinose and Hijirikawa together with all the other fools who’d come and headed home.

It turns out the magazine interview was indeed a lie.

“Damn those fools…”

I suspect they just wanted to use my birthday as an excuse to form connections.

I passed through the forest and stood in front of my home.

If this were any other time, I would open the door without a second thought, but today I feel a little wary.

“Don’t tell me… I wonder if she has something up her sleeve too…”

No, of course she wouldn’t. I cleared my throat and slowly turned the doorknob.

“...I’m back. I brought some food…”

I sensed something off before even setting a foot in the house.

…Why is it cold inside?

The heat has been turned up since the woman started living in my home, and yet today it was nearly as cold inside as it was outside the tower.

“What is… Is she still not here yet?”

She even carelessly left the front door unlocked.

I raised a brow and made my way to the entrance when Alexander jumped on me.

“Bark bark bark!”

“You’re here. And Haruka…”

From behind him, she quietly emerged.

“Um… Welcome back.”

Her appearance caught me by surprise.

She dressed like she was going outside, complete with a coat, scarf, and gloves.

Of course she’d look like that given how cold it was.

“There you are. What happened? Did the heater blow out?”

“No… The heater’s not broken…”

“Then go warm up the room. Why are you looking like that?”

It was after all the coldest day of the winter.

Haruka was shivering, probably still cold even with all the layers she had on.

It was then I realized all the windows were fully open.

Why on earth?

“I just… I thought you might enjoy it if the tower were this cold.”

“You did this for me?”

It really was pleasant since it wasn't somewhat lukewarm.

But that shouldn’t be the case for Haruka.

“Well…It’s your birthday, so I wanted to make it comfortable for you. You always put up with higher temperatures for me, so today, I thought to put up with…”

I let out a heavy sigh.

“You too? Don't do something so absurd. There is no need to celebrate anything.”

“B-But. You gave me a present for Christman, I haven’t been able to give you anything for it…”

“That was not a present. You don't even have to thank me.”

I told her to close all the windows and turn the heater on immediately before heading up the stairs to my room.

From behind, Haruka calls out.

“B-But… I baked you a cake, would you like to have some…?”

Good grief…

The whole lot of them.

I let out a small exhale and turned around.

“Well, cake is a completely different story. Did you really think I would ever choose not to indulge in sweets?”

“Thank goodness! I’ll get some for you right away.”

Haruka's face lit up and she shuffled up the stairs in her bulky outfit.

I followed behind her and she took that bulky outfit with her.

“I said you can turn on the heat.”

“But today is a special day.”

Haruka pulled down the scarf she'd wrapped around the lower part of her face, smiled, and removed her gloves to begin serving.

The table was decorated with flowers, and the tableware appeared well selected.

Haruka, in her fluffy coat, pours a cup of tea and cuts a piece of the cake.

The sight was so comical I couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

“Camus-senpai…?”

“Heh… hehe.”

“...I knew it, was this too much…?”

“...Not at all.”

I dismissed the thought with a wave of my hand, and the corners of my mouth turned up once more.

“When you see the others tomorrow, brag to them. You were the only one who could make me laugh today.”

“W-What?”

She blinked, clearly not understanding what I meant, but I wasn't going to explain it to her.

I stood and grabbed the plate from her.

“Give this to me. I can finish preparing. In the meantime, you go change out of those clothes.”

“Wait, but…”

“Let me share something with you. In my country, one's birthday is a day to express their gratitude for being celebrated and entertain those around them. Naturally, they would also be the one who would cook and serve the food.”

“I-Is that so?”

“If you understand now, then go take off that unsightly coat! I’ll turn on the heater!!”

I watched as Haruka rushed off to her room, and I headed for the walls to close the windows.

I stopped when I felt something brush against my leg and found Alexander looking up at me.

“...What. Is it so unusual that I serve the food?”

“Arf.”

“Hm. It is good to do so once in a while. I have never had a birthday celebration like this before.”

I shrugged and headed for the windows again.

#utapri #all star #all star camus #camus utapri #camus memorial

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links-destiny · 2 years

Text

Marko's Laughter

Word count (1,356)

No content warnings involved

Mentioned characters - Rhino // Sandman // Diamond Spider

Notes: In this AU, Marko is selectively mute and has a difficult time expressing with the Sinister Syndicate.

I know Marko can not be hurt. He is made of sand, simple as that now, but sometimes I find myself being his shield just as I would for anyone, but that is a quality that I still cling to, even after becoming the Rhino.

I mean, no person likes being punched across face anyway, whether you can feel it or not, da?

I block a fierce strike with my arm raised, keeping Diamond Spider distracted for just a moment more. Although it has been long while, this particular webbed hero is getting stronger, and more confident than before. Even so, his technique could use work.

Unlike some criminals, I'm not as stupid as people think I am, and I know exactly how to hold on my own. As Diamond Spider tries to kick me off balance, I manage to grab his leg, catching him off guard as I have many times before. At this point, it is really become terrible habit by now.

Still, his optics widen slightly before I toss his body towards side of building with bit more force than I intended. Even I am stunned. Doc did mention something about this uh, new strength that comes with suit...

There is no time for thinking though as Marko shoves two large duffle bags full of cash into my arms, snapping me out of my small moment of concern.

"No truck?" My eyes dart over to the wreckage, but this must be all that Marko could salvage under restricted time as he shakes his head in silence as usual.

Abandoning our transport, we immediately start to run in opposite direction as I could hear Diamond Spider cursing and getting up from the rubble left behind.

⟣⟡⟢

I tell myself to keep running, that anything could be better than being thrown back in Raft again, but this suit is not meant for such awful hot weather. We would not even be in this situation had things gone correctly as Doc had said but no, nothing ever does come out right.

Whether it was because of us, or whatever nonsense planning he has going on, he continues to not share the full extent of our purpose.

Heaving, I manage to choke out a thought or two. "That damn Паучок (Spider) busted our heist again! How does he keep doing that? Does he have nothing better to do?"

Marko is much faster, shifting in his sand-like form to move through streets with ease, but I can tell he is keeping close on purpose, so I am not on my own. He slides to my left and shakes one duffle bag in his hand with usual hard stare and raised eyebrow.

I've been getting better at reading his little nods and expressions but is still based mostly on my assumptions when he's not able to sign immediately. "Yes, but Doc will not be happy knowing we got less from bank. We planned for days, Marko! And we lost our truck!" Courtesy of Diamond Spider trying to jump in and steer us away from streets.

Obviously, it didn't actually work.

Instead, we slammed into the nearest street pole.

Sure, maybe we could hold our own, but that Паучок has dealt with us many times before, always figuring out new ways to take us down no matter how many times we think we have upper hand. Besides, I'd rather be a little bit of coward in order for Doc not to yell even more at us.

As I start worrying more about our predicament, I notice good hiding spot from that webbed hero, if he still happens on our trail. So I quietly point right and run straight into alley. Marko nods as he and I duck inside and hold our backs against wall, waiting for any sign that we were followed.

My breathing is heavy and rough, exhausted after running more than I am comfortable with, yet I still manage small talk quietly under my breath.

"You know, I am actually surprised in saying that I think we lost him. You would think that Паучок could spot us from mile away since we got arrested lots because of him. I mean we don't exactly blend in with crowds, you are pile of sand, and I am just some guy in dumb looking rhino costume."

I pause for a moment, reeling back to a shiver. "Oh wait, do you think he has the gift?"

Marko stares at me in confusion from behind the bandana that covers most of his face. His shoulders are tense, and his hands remain clenched. Not in the mood to sign, I see. One-sided conversations aren't easy, but I continue in a hushed whisper.

"You know! The rumors that he can use his weird powers to control tiny little пауки as his minions. чёрт побери (Damn)... is that possible, do you think?"

The nervousness kicks in. Maybe it was silly but when there are people like us existing, then surely that masked hero has similar tricks up his sleeve.

I do not expect Marko to respond to that as anyone else wouldn't bother to keep up considering I often go on and on with rambling.

Said 'Sandman' has been with Sinister Syndicate for couple of weeks now, but I have never met someone who made an active choice in living life in utter silence, like sand that he is. I didn't understand well enough, but he holds his own reasons as to why.

I peer out of the alley, seeing nobody that could resemble that purple-clad weirdo, but there's something else that I pick up. It is even bigger surprise when I start hearing laughter, coming from behind me, straight out of Marko.

As I turn, there he is, covering his mouth over hand, as he doubles over trying desperately to keep quiet. It is too much, and now, he is not even trying to hide it. I am sure if he was human, he would be crying in tears, just chuckling to himself.

I swallow any thoughts of hushing him when I note how very pretty his laugh is... Slightly cracking in pitch, rough from lack of use. This is not something I have had the privilege of witnessing.

Marko always held himself so seriously, with maybe few timid expressions here and there, but he is not one for strong emotions. Perhaps he never had many chances to freely express himself, but I do my best not to assume.

I think I like hearing his voice. To know that it is because of my ridiculous words, that his composure breaks, allowing himself to forget our situation and just release the tension he holds so closely.

While it may not be words, it is first I am able to actually listen, and I do not intend to complain, not when it is him.

I consider teasing Marko, wanting to mention how quiet he was before, and his apparent sense of humor that has decided to appear but I step back, remembering words that weren't my own.

'If he ends up feeling comfortable enough to talk in front of you, says anything at all, please do not bring it to attention and make an ill-advised comment. What he needs is a space with zero judgment and intolerance. Whatever moment he's in, let him be in that comfort, alright? That applies for you too, Octavius. Don't give me that look.'

Right, Toomes's observations...

Maybe I became too quiet in trying to remember that important piece because suddenly Marko looks up at me. I stammer to respond, trying to not make him feel singled out, but he smiles instead. It is soft and genuine even.

I clear my voice and look away, appearing more interested in the usual and boring passerby on the street. "We should head back to Doc and group now. They probably think we lost money, let us prove them wrong today."

Marko nods sharply, holding his duffle bag firmly, looking proud of himself despite our own mistakes.

Well, I could always deal with explaining ourselves on my own. It was that Паучок'c fault anyway.

#Who knew sharing some writing could be so nerve wracking #Marvel #Spidersona AU #Spider Man AU #Diamond Spider #The Rhino #Aleksei Sytsevich #Sandman #Flint Marko #Dante D'Angelo #Diamond-verse #What do I even tag for my writing??#Link writes #Fanfic

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dearestones · 1 year

Text

Twisted Wonderland Matchup: Deuce Spade #2

Warnings: Fluff.

@flamethrower-maniac Request: saw you do Twst matchups, and I wanted to see if you could do one for me? I want it to be romantic.

I don't really want to share my name on the internet, but I do go by Pyro!! I've got like fluffy and silky hair, the style is a mullet, it's dyed around a crimson red but my natural hair is dark brown, and I've also got blue-grey eyes. I'm around six feet or so???? I'm transmasc ftm

My fashion sense is steampunk, grunge and cyperpunk!

For personality, I've got anger issues and loud energy, I speak really loudly because no one really hears me when I talk normally and I have major anger issues that I have trouble controlling, small things like repetitive and annoying noises can make me frustrated. Some traits I'd describe myself as being wrathful, protective, loud, smug, cocky yet also being friendly and caring, motherly almost. I subconsciously lie a lot, but I'm trying to work it out

I'm a history nerd and I collect whatever trinkets I can and make crafts out of whatever I can find. I'm a tech nerd, I build mechanical stuff as a hobby. I got the nickname "Pyro" bc of my fascination with fire, I like the warmth and am described as a walking heater by friends. Another thing, I tease and annoy ppl as a way to show that I love them [/p] and I enjoy softly bullying others to show my affection, besides well- physical affection! I'm really big on PDA even towards friends. I'm sometimes like a mother hen to my friends, not in a parental way but more of being worrisome and caring about their health and such, so I'll do work and chores for them :}}

After reading through the description given, I believe that you best pair well with Deuce Spade!

Deuce won’t lie, he’s kind of intimidated by you upon your first meeting with him. Your hair is so cool and you’re so tall! You sort of remind him of when he was a delinquent in his younger days, so that brings back some sad memories.

However, he appreciates your fashion sense. He’s not one for fashionable attire so it’s not a surprise that he doesn’t know the ins and outs of steampunk, grunge, and cyberpunk, but he likes how they fit your personality so well. If you ask him, he’ll simply stutter out a compliment and say that you’re cool looking.

(When you reveal that you’re transmasc, he’ll be confused, but supportive when you explain what that is. He thinks it’s admirable that you are now the person you want to be).

Although Deuce is no longer as hotheaded and as angry as he was when he was younger, he can still relate to the issues that you are currently experiencing now. Even though he’s still struggling with his inner demons and personal strife, he has a few tricks up his sleeve (not courtesy of Ace) to help him in his everyday endeavors to become his best self. Even if you’re not striving to be a model honors student like himself, that doesn’t mean that his techniques won’t help you in the long run.

When you’re feeling like the world is getting too loud or if there are certain noises that repeat too often, Deuce will be the first to help you out of that situation. Unfortunately, he won’t be the first to notice because he can be a bit dense at times, but when he finally realizes that you’re trying too hard to calm down or if your anger starts to bleed through, he’ll gently guide you by the arm and into a quiet, secluded area.

Deuce appreciates your protective nature. It’s nice to have someone else who can fly off the handle sometimes and can be just as keen on making sure that your peers are safe. He may take issue with your smug and cocky nature (it reminds him of Ace when he’s in one of those mischievous moods), but he finds that it balances nicely with your friendly and caring demeanor. If you ever hurt Deuce by accident, please apologize and make it up to him. It takes a lot to disturb Deuce, but know that he’s still vulnerable and wanting to better himself like you.

Deuce also doesn’t like it when you lie. He expects you to be honest with him, but if you try your best to be a better version of yourself in the future, he’ll eventually forgive you. As a person with a past that is fraught with memories that he would rather not bring forward into the future, he understands you to a certain extent.

You like to make things? Deuce is also crafty with his hands, but it’s mostly when he’s fixing things around the house or beating up fools who go against his sense of justice (but that’s mostly a last resort type of thing). If you describe what sorts of things you like to collect and create from, he’ll keep his eyes peeled. If you’re into rocks, Deuce is already filling up his backpack and available pockets for them. If you like things that sparkle and shine, baubles that are made of gears and springs, or maybe even objects that were dropped by students who could care less about the loss, Deuce is already gathering them up in his arms and taking them to your dorm.

Also! If you ever need help creating something or wanting advice on the mechanics of one of your personal projects, Deuce is right there for you! Again, he’s handy around a tool set and he’s more than willing to help those he cares about.

As for your passion for fire, Deuce can’t claim he understands it, but he’s happy that you’re happy when you’re around fire. It’s an added benefit that you’re so warm! Perhaps if Deuce is feeling cold, he can ask for assistance? But if only he’s feeling confident in himself at that point.

Deuce appreciates physical affection! Please play with his hair, hold his hands, or maybe even hug him whenever you see him in the halls. Ace and other students may tease him for the blatant displays of affection, but he feels proud when you seek him out for affection. He draws the line when you relentlessly tease him, but if you casually tease him once in a while, he’ll merely get flustered.

Overall, Deuce is someone who can easily ground and balance you. Between your differences in personality and disposition, you’re more likely to seek him out and be the first to initiate. From there, he will just be as likely to give and receive affection so long as you love him for him.

If you want to donate a Ko-Fi, feel free https://ko-fi.com/devintrinidad.

TWISTED WONDERLAND MASTERLIST

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderlande deuce #twst deuce #twisted wonderland deuce spade #twst deuce spade #deuce spade #twisted wonderland matchup #twst matchup #dearstones #devintrinidad #character matchup #matchup

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hellodarjeeling · 6 months

Text

The Price We Pay - A UFO Fic

[Freeman learns the consequences of his actions]

[Inspired by episode “A Question of Priorities"]

This is by no means finished, but I wanted to share it with my fellow UFO fans. Thanks!

Alec Freeman’s footfalls echoed down the bright corridor as he rounded the corner of S.H.A.D.O.’s central command hub. He’d forgotten a bit of paperwork at Keith Ford’s desk and meant to pick it up before finally heading home. The past sixteen hours had been particularly grueling after a string of UFOs managed to sneak past the interceptors, enter the atmosphere, and evade Sky One long enough to give everyone ulcers. With the day finally behind him he was eager to crawl between the sheets and expected to be asleep before his head touched the pillow.

Ford, ever a neat man, kept his station clean and Freeman found the survey maps immediately. He glanced at them disinterestedly, barely registering words as he touched a cigarette to his lips for the long walk to his car. Just once, he thought, I’d like to get out of here at a reasonable hour. Tucking the maps under his arm, he fished a lighter from his pocket and took a drag as the cigarette caught. As he turned to leave he noticed a sliver of light under Ed Straker’s office door. Odd, he thought, taking another pull from the cigarette. I’d assumed he’d left already.

The unmistakable smell of alcohol hit him as the doors opened at his approach; Freeman paused at the entry, trying to make sense of the scene before him.

Straker was seated, slumped over a mess of dossiers that spilled from his desk onto the floor, clutching a half empty glass in a white-knuckle grip. He apparently had heard the door open and sat up straight in alarm, jerking his head around to see Freeman lingering in the doorway. A look of panic passed behind his cool stare and settled into mild wariness.

“Easy,” Freeman began as he walked into the room, “it’s only me.”

Straker acknowledged him with a nod but otherwise said nothing. All their interactions over the past few days had been constrained, and despite Straker’s brusque assurances to the contrary, Freeman had a gut feeling he didn’t have the whole story. Seeing Straker partake in alcohol did little to alleviate his concerns, on the contrary it amplified them; the man made a point never to touch the stuff.

He glanced at the glass again and frowned. “All right, who died?”

Straker stared hard at the wall opposite him, unblinking. His fingers tensed around the glass.

“John,” he managed quietly. “John died.”

Freeman froze. John?

“The transport didn’t make it in time. It carried antibiotics...”

“Antibiotics?”

Freeman suddenly recalled the way Straker’s face paled upon hearing the transport had been used to find the downed UFO. He swallowed back sour bile rising in his throat as realization set in. He'd made the decision to divert the transport, they were his orders, on his call. His fault.

“For God’s sake, Ed, why didn’t you tell me that transport carried medication for your son? Had I known I never would have ordered it to change course!”

Freeman ran his free hand through his hair as he desperately paced the office, cigarette dangling forgotten in his other. He turned to pin Straker with a desperate, pleading look.

“You should have told me!”

“To what end, Alec? What could I have done? We can’t afford to waste any opportunity, any chance, to learn more about these alien invaders.”

“But your son—”

“You know as well as I do, the responsibility of this job! The sacrifices we agreed to when joining S.H.A.D.O.!”

A heavy fist slammed on the desk, startling them both. Freeman dropped his eyes to the floor and sighed. He rolled the cigarette between his thumb and finger, watching the ash fall onto the tile floor. Normally he would never have been so inconsiderate, but courtesy was the furthest thing from his mind.

“How can I perform my duties if I don’t know what’s going on?” he asked quietly.

#Gerry Anderson’s ufo #Alec freeman #ed straker #again this is not anywhere near finished but it’s been sitting in my drafts #and that episode was too good not to work with #enjoy :)

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bakugosbratx · 3 years

Text

Warning: NSFW 18+ Content. Sexual intercourse, angst, pregnancy, cursing, fluff, degrading, etc.

Words: 1.6k

Check out my other works here

A/N: I just realized there isn’t much talking at all. I’ll make up for it in part four. This shit is sad. I am sad so it’s fitting. I’m sorry in advance. I hope you enjoyed.

Part Two | Finale

Tags: @awilddreamerwrites @miriobaby @lanarist @peachsenpie @milkthistletea @sickchildren @bakugousbrat @lil-miminini @tremendouswolfsaladranch @ssplague @vinny-likes-to-play21

Not every story has a happy ending. Y/N is learning this the hard way.

“CEO of Bakugo Industires, Katsuki Bakugo, shows off his new girlfriend at the Industry Ceremony tonight—“

You turn your phone off. Your red, swollen tear filled eyes could not look at the words and pictures anymore. The press sure did know how to capture the model’s perfect angles. A courtesy they would never give you if you were ever lucky to fill her shoes.

The way Katsuki’s muscular arm snaked around her tiny little waist made you fall ill. The flash of his glamorous smile filled your broken one with rage.

Your ears are filled with the salty liquid that flowed from your orbs. You are not even sure how you are still breathing. It shouldn’t hurt this much. It shouldn’t feel like this. You are just fuck buddies.

Were just fuck buddies.

The words will not stop replaying in your head. It’s been over a month. It’s spinning on a broken record player. All the emotions you felt in that moment intensify with each passing day. You should hate him for abandoning you, but your heart cannot do so. All you wanted was him.

You knew better than to fall for Katsuki. He told you to keep your feelings out of your sexual relations with him yet here you are, sobbing into your bedroom pillow, a growing fetus inside of you.

The room felt restricting of your oxygen supply. The ceiling fan sent chills down your warm spine. Your body aches and your throat feels dry. Katsuki’s cruel words along with his actions strangle you. You have not been able to see straight since.

The next couple of months of work are pure hell. You did your best to avoid Katsuki and he did the same. You noticed that Katsuki did not look at you as you were the only one in the room anymore. He seemed to look past you. If you dared meet those beautiful crimson eyes for even a slight moment, you were left feeling disgusted with yourself. Katsuki has a way of speaking without actually doing so. You adored and hated that about him.

Whenever he addressed you for business matters, you had trouble formulating sentences. Your eyes always seemed to be puffy from the endless nights of hysterical tears. Katsuki’s voice held more aggression than you are used to. Maybe you wanted him to at least have some sympathy, but that was nowhere to be found. He soon stopped inviting you to meetings.

You two did a wonderful job of finding the long way around the office building. Any precaution there was to take, you both did, but no plan is bulletproof and you are going to see each other at some point.

You two have not seen each other in over a month — almost two — and you have been feeling stronger than before. Less weeping nights, you are back to eating a normal diet, and you are more well rested. The bags under your eyes became less noticeable, but they still lingered longer than one would prefer.

You dried off your hands in the restroom — the one furthest from you and Katsuki’s office — and headed out to get back to work. The hallway is quite vacant around this time of day. Everyone is either on lunch or too focused on their work before packing up for the day. Your heels echoed amongst the marble floor. Looking up, your breath hitched.

Your eyes met the ones you desperately wanted to despise. Yours held sadness and desperation while he held anger and disgust. The way Katsuki viewed you, you started to view yourself. Even if it isn’t your fault.

The glance was only a maximum of five seconds, but those five seconds felt like a decade for you two. A period of time you would come to mentally plead for overtime.

You have not seen him for another three weeks after that. The cycle repeated: you sobbed, and sobbed some more, and then you started to cry less.

Then it happened.

You are coming into work late due to a doctor's appointment. The baby is healthy as are you so that is lovely news. Something you would love to share with Katsuki if he even remembered your name.

The elevator was taking its sweet time getting up to the floor where your office is located. You felt strong. How could you not? Your baby is going to be okay from the looks of it. A little human is excited to meet you and you are becoming excited to meet them.

Maybe things are starting to fall into place.

Elevator doors open. You begin to walk forward but come to a halt with the man standing in front of you; Katsuki Bakugo.

Your heart races with your bottom lip begging to quiver. You do your best to hide it though as you brush past one another. A jolt of electricity shot through you. The slightest graze of his calloused fingertips felt so rigid yet so soft. Your instincts force you to look up to see the stranger peer down at you. The stranger you used to know.

“See me, Katsuki. See me as the woman you used to know.” You mentally beg. You just wanted him to see you as somebody. Somebody he used to want.

Katsuki paused there, speaking to you through his eyes. This time, they did not hold as much disgust as before. Maybe it’s the hormones, but you could have sworn you witnessed longing within the roots of his irises. If Katsuki was capable of processing his emotions and allowing them to show, he would write them on his features. He remains stone cold, preventing his fingertips from latching onto yours. So, awkwardly they lay, both of your breaths caught in your windpipes until Katsuki decides to break free of the shackles.

You attempted to be in Katsuki’s space more. You knew him like a book just like he did for you. You both learned each other’s frequent routines.

Awkward encounters became more frequent and you both secretly looked forward to them. Long stares that withheld unspoken phrases. Katsuki’s gazes turned from disgust to softness. Especially with your stomach starting to show as the months rolled on. Still, not a word was spoken

The corporate office began to talk. Chatter amongst Katsuki’s employees disturbed his peace of mind. He knows he has to address you at some point, but what is there to say? What could Katsuki even begin to formulate for you to understand where he is coming from? You are due sooner than he is comfortable with. There is no hiding your stomach.

You never asked a penny from him. Hell, you have not even tried to speak to him since that night. You only spoke when formally addressed. Even that was rare.

Katsuki replays that night a lot while laying in bed. He claims what you two had was just two coworkers having sexual intercourse, but nothing can hide the way he moans your name when he masturbates or has sex with someone else. The way he sees you in every female he comes into contact with. Nothing can hide the way his natural rapid heartbeat stops by the mention of your beautiful name. Don’t even get him started on the way you purposely would get on his nerves. They are all part of the list of delicate little things he missed.

You have every right to hate him. Katsuki would not blame you if you did. His hatred for himself reflected in his actions which ultimately was passed onto you. You carried that burden. He would search for the reflection of his anger in your orbs, but they held none. They held nothing but sadness and love. Love he refuses to accept.

Katsuki laid in bed, alone, allowing his mind to wander. He cursed you for keeping him awake. He is a busy man with things to do yet your features haunt him. The thought of someone else touching you the way he does killed him. He knows he would have heard muttering by now if you went to his rival yet there is silence.

You are silent.

You are falling deep into your peaceful slumber. Something you have been doing more lately. You no longer need the lullabies of your heartache and unwanted whimpers for comfort. You are more at ease.

A heavy knocking at the door startled you. Groaning and gazing at your cell phone, the time read the time.

1:03AM

The knocking picked up again. You are not expecting company at this hour so you take precautions. Grabbing the metal baseball bat you keep under your bed, you stroll to the door. The knocking echoed through your apartment complex much to your sleeping neighbors dismay. Your adrenaline rises with each step you take towards the door. Gazing out the peephole of your front door, you see Katsuki standing at the door.

Throwing the baseball bat to the side, you open the door.

“Katsuki, what the—“

Katsuki ushers himself in, not even giving you an opportunity to scold him or ask anymore questions. Instead, his lips are entangled with yours. Magnets desperately pulling towards each other. You attempt to push him away as you smell the alcohol lingering in his breath, but Katsuki is much stronger than you are.

Your mind is telling you to hate this, but your heart speaks otherwise as Katsuki pushes you against the beige wall, caging you in with his arms. You did not even try to stop him as he began removing any article clothing on your body. Your lips only disconnected for short seconds before meeting again. Now you are laid on the kitchen table, Katsuki’s thick erected cock deep in your pussy, begging moans escaping your parted lips.

Here we go again.

©bakugosbratx

#tw pregnancy #tw angst #bakugosbratx #no strings attached #mini series #part 3 #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugō #bakugo smut #ceo bakugo #bakugo x female reader #bakugo x you

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sunsents · 3 years

Text

Empty - F.W (1/2)

Gah daym this was a JOURNEY to write. I swore to myself to never write angst because, well I suck at it. But here we are, I swear this has a good ending because my heart can't bear that. I could've written this much better, so I promise to bring my A GAME for chapter 2. Enjoy, also Lee in this is a hate crime. This is very story telling-esk so I hope it flows well.

I wouldn't have written this chapter without the help of my good friend @mochiixjimin she helped me edit and spice up this whole thing so thank you so much to her! She's an amazing writer, go check out her work and show her some big love right now or else!! her wattpad

Chapter 1 out of 2 (Backstory)

Summary —> Life has always been a cruel joke to you, yet you simply play along. Overshadowed by Eva Burke your whole life, watching from the sidelines while everyone flooded each other with love, it would always feel like a joke.

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST (with a fluffy ending in the second part) / One mature scene (18+) and then it's angst again <3 / Some slander / Offensive language

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

You were a bright child.

Beaming bright enough to keep a tight lipped smile during flu-shots, and enough to put on a happy façade when your dad threw away the drawing you had done of your family dog, rather than hang it up on the fridge.

Children have foolish dreams, and that was yours. Your friends in preschool boasted about their pictures being hung like trophies on fridges, with decorative magnets and even bigger pink bow ties.

The fridge in the Y/L/N manor was empty. Always empty, just how Ms. Y/L/N liked it. Empty marble floors with empty rug designs, and empty rooms with even emptier people living in it. They were both empty people. Hollow and void of any emotion, at least towards you.

You were different though. You were filled to the brim with ambition and hope and so many positive emotions that your parents never seemed to reflect on you. You were like those Disney princesses. The princesses always had hope, and when you have hope good things happen.

Right?

Your dad never meant to give you false hope. He just wished you’d keep your mouth shut as he worked until late hours. Using big words and having big aspirations, you shouldn’t have.

Mr and Mrs Y/L/N weren't bad people per say, just busy. They didn't know how to raise a child, this was obvious, because the purpose of even having a child was to fix their marriage. But a temporary fix wouldn't do it, it never did. There was always that hole on the roof, leaking rain of despair into their falsely built home that no bucket big enough could hold back. Because it always found a way to overflow.

They didn't know how to show their love, so they did it with money, clothes, toys and crayons that you would later use to draw pictures of your family, only to have them end up in the dumpster once again.

They spoiled you rotten, bought you gifts you never even dreamed of asking. You just shut up and enjoyed it, what else could you do? Whine and demand attention? Risk losing their favor? There was no favor to lose.

You got yourself a fat A plus on your third grade math test. Star stickers on your chest, you entered through the glass double doors of your house with a crooked smile - two front teeth missing of course - making your joy all the more endearing. Your backpack strapped tightly over your narrow shoulders, hanging low with all the crammed books you pushed before leaving school because you were just so excited to show your parents.

You received a big sloppy kiss from your Nanny, who practically was like a second mom to you, and dashed right into your fathers office to show him your new accomplishment.

"Good job, I'm proud of you."

You froze. You found a way to actually get their attention. The attention you so craved, the recognition you would die for. This was revolutionary. Basically a new era for you.

Nanny made you a star shaped cake that night, and sat with you while gently stroking your hair and listening to you blabber about how easy the math questions were. It felt warm, motherly love. Even if it was false, it would never compare to the love of your own mother, a love you would never get.

You spent all your night studying, your eyes burning under the harsh light of your lamp in the early mornings and your pencil, ebbing away over sheets and sheets of blank paper. Writing away your little hands off until they ached, just to snatch another A and get a good job.

This was good, it worked out very well. You became that student who looked forward to class, just to get a good grade and have the validation of your parents. The sight of your father’s lips quirk up even in the slightest, and how your mother’s eyes shone briefly in appreciation of your hard work, even if it was for a quick second, it was worth it.

Until the new neighbors moved in.

Mr. Burke was a round, cheerful man with an even rounder belly, and a big fat pipe that always hung on his lips. Mrs Burke looked and acted like those fairy godmothers you adored. You couldn’t believe such people existed. Mr Y/L/N invited them over for dinner, for courtesy. He was not happy about said courtesy.

He ended up liking the couple, they had a little daughter called Eva, who was small and adorable with round red cheeks and big doe eyes. Not only Mr and Mrs Burke, but the Y/L/N’s adored Eva as well. She was happy, always smiling, and her teeth weren't nearly as crooked as yours, not to mention she had pretty long hair like a princess.

You liked her a lot, took her to pick flowers, showed her the drawings you had prepared for the empty fridge; in case Mr Y/L/N ever had a change of heart and hung them up, you had been trying for three years and weren't giving up any sooner.

Eva was nice, kind enough to share her M&M's and very used to compliments unlike you. She seemed to get a lot from her parents and yours. The adults were so kind to her, always smothering her with love and kisses. You were happy for Eva, happy that Eva somehow managed to gain the favor of your parents before you did.

Little girls tended to be jealous, you weren’t. You were just glad to have a friend so cool, she didn't blush and stutter under praise and apparently her drawings were pretty enough to go on a fridge.

It was a Thursday afternoon when your mom smiled at you for the first time since your last exam grade. "Look, Eva drew us a picture, isn't it pretty?"

The crayola stash under your bed was no longer needed, they appeared clumsily dumped in the neighborhood trash the next day, most of them stomped under the pressure of your little sneakers. And the bundle of drawings you hid under your pillow, wishing on fairy godmother that one day they would be hung up too, were ripped; clearly a struggle given. You had paper cuts on your hands, and your Nanny thankfully applied ointment before Ms and Mr Y/L/N noticed, or rather, stopped to care.

Though you knew that even if you paraded herself with bloody fingers dripping to your elbows, they wouldn't care.

Nanny did, she was there. There when you were haunted with nightmares when the moon was particularly dark, cooing at you and letting you sleep next to her in that small bed of hers. There when you tripped and fell, small scratch resulting in a screaming tantrum. She was gentle, sweet, paid well.

You decided to go and pick flowers with Eva, and make a pretty flower crown for yourself, months after your drawing incident. Of course, you didn't have such silly dreams anymore. You didn’t wish to have your pictures hung, to have your mother wear the flower crowns you made and frankly you didn’t care for the sight of the sparkle in your parents eyes. Nanny’s was enough.

Eva agreed, dressed in a pink tutu Mrs Y/L/N gifted. You didn't comment, though deep down you gazed at the skirt in sparkling envy. Your mother never bothered to get you such pretty things. The two of you gathered saturated petals and nice ribbons while giggling amongst yourselves. Until, you accidentally caused Eva’s flowers to levitate.

Eva ran home, crying and calling you a witch. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N’s dirty looks made her feel shameful, and even dirtier when a letter addressed to her was dropped by a pretty owl you insisted on petting. It was from a school called Hogwarts, in the faraway land of London, and it seemed, not only you but Eva got the same letter the next day.

Though the Y/L/N’s and Burke’s were proud of Eva’s letter. They weren’t with yours.

— — — —

The ride to Hogwarts was interesting to say the least. You had so many questions unanswered, were you a fairy godmother too? Was that your destiny? Was that the reason you never got any attention, because you were destined to give instead of receive?

Eva was cheerful as always, making fast friends in newly bought uniforms and holding a pretty, long and thin wand, with designs flowing across the premise. Your wand was...functional. You were sad you couldn't choose, and that the wand chose the owner. It didn't make sense, what if you didn't want this wand? What if you wanted something charming like Eva’s? It should have been mutual.

It was while trying to find your way to the bathroom that you met the Weasley twins. Quite handsome, a year older and absolute fucktards. A word you learned from the two. Though you always found yourself laughing more at Fred’s jokes, you liked them both equally.

“Hey George! Look.” Fred had exclaimed, clinging onto his brothers shoulder and dragging him across. “Who's that girl?”

You introduced yourself, happy façade on, gentle words slipping out of your mouth like nectar. They had to like you, you told yourself. Just this once, more than Eva.

When sorted into Gryffindor, Eva, you and the twins became inseparable. Your group grew in second year, when Katie, Lee and Alicia Spinnet joined the bunch. You would make fun of the ghastly Potions Professor Snape, and imitate Dumbledore in the hallways to mess with the older students.

You loved your time at Hogwarts, and the adventures that came every year. Especially when Harry Potter joined.

“Hey Fred.”

Fred, who was fiddling with his bracelet you had bought him hummed in response, not bothering to look up.

You sighed, “Do you think the flowers can feel it when we pluck them?”

Fred turned at that, his bracelet was now tightly secure after his struggles. “I hope not.” he smiled, a faraway look on his face whenever he gazed at you. “You know, some people like pain.” he winked.

You merely looked at him confused, clearly way too young for...whatever that is.

He started laughing loudly, slapping his knee and causing you to scoff and slap him on the shoulder.

Third year was when it bloomed. The slight girly attention you gave Fred grew. Fred was...Fred. A handsome ginger, beater for their house's Quidditch team, always charming and charismatic that somehow oozed out of him whenever he did anything really. It was not unusual, every girl in school had a crush on him. That wasn't the case, Fred was one of your best friends, and you refused to entertain the idea of a possible...relationship.

Yet sometimes, you'd find yourself thinking about hugging and kissing Fred like you’d seen couples in your favorite movies did and you’d fall asleep with reddened cheeks and a boy with even redder hair in your mind.

But feelings couldn’t be controlled, nor easily hidden. Eva found out in your fourth year after hearing you mumble his name in your dreams. Fred Weasley was getting more handsome as years passed, and you found it hard to contain your feelings. You were crushing, hard.

Eva was...Eva about it. Happy, but nothing changed. She didn't tease like George did when he found out, nor did she act any differently towards Fred.

“Hey ____!” Fred had sat next to you, shaking the entire couch because he grew that tall during summer. “Got a new girl after me.” he looked at you, almost expectantly, as if you wouldn’t react the way you always reacted.

“That’s great Fred.” you smiled, gulping whatever lump that was forming in your throat and struggling to come out as vulgar words you wished to yell.

“Yeah,” Fred sighed, “It’s...great.”

Fred Weasley was a ladies man, and he wasn't afraid to show it. It was okay, because you were happy enough to be one of his closest, and that was enough. He often boasted about getting girls, and how successful his jokes were, and you always loved snapping back to him cockily, even more cockily than him. Playful banter was easy, comforting between them and when he turned away you would love to shyly entertain the idea of being one of those girl’s Fred talked about.

Fifth year, you had a sudden growth spurt. That was also the year where you discovered Cosmopolitan, Vogue and of course Witch Weekly. Hair no longer in a ponytail, legs shaved and smooth, short skirts with no nylons, you were a new person. After getting your period in third year, your spurt came late, but sudden. Way too sudden in the time of three months. It was hard to handle the changes occurring to your body. It was all too much that you had to become a lady and the fact that you didn’t have your mother to help was a pain you hid deep within.

It was as if whichever god above decided to squeeze your entire life into a summer and call it a day, because it was simply too busy. How ironic. No one saw your growth except old Nanny Gladys. Not Eva, nor her parents considering they went on a getaway and the Burke's, who had gone to Brazil.

But you were over that, you discovered the great telephone, and the great Hermione Granger, package deal with Ginny Weasley. You guys would talk on the phone for hours upon hours, Ginny obscuring your personality and Hermione altering your view on your parents. And Hermione was right, they were assholes. You didn't give a flying fuck about empty praises anymore.

You had become almost too tall for your older clothes, and your breasts were way too big to fit in the training bra you bought not even a month ago. Your hips, now wide and swaying as you walk became graceful, were decorated with long gem bracelets.

You cursed like a sailor that summer, ran around fields with family - your family being your dog, Jambo - bare feet. You stomped on flowers you used to pick as a little girl, stomping on those silly fairytale dreams you used to nurse, and never felt freer. For the first time ever you felt that maybe being empty could be more freeing than having false hope weighing you down.

Returning to Hogwarts was a big deal to students. Who changed, who glowed up after what happened last year - nothing, it was all childish drama.

Before your parents could even see your new self, your escapade to the Granger household was successful. The Y/L/N's didn't care, nor did they write. You knew it should’ve hurt, but frankly, you didn’t think having the pain in your chest was worth it. Hermione was awestruck, of course, after laying her sights on you for the first time since May and insisted on walking into the Entrance Hall, arm in arm with her and Ginny to show you off like some sort of revelation.

It was a revelation all right, at least to the boys, and some girls. It seemed no one saw you as a girl before. George oogled, and Lee was so shocked to find out that you were actually a girl with a pretty figure and an even prettier smile that he stopped clapping you on the back like he always did. Not a girl, you have become a woman. It was far too sudden, new uniforms and a whole new wardrobe had to be bought.

"____? You were a girl?" Fred joked, ruffling your hair like nothing changed between you. And that's when you realized, no slutty skirt, how much pushup your bra, or no matter how pretty your hair looked, Fred would always see you as ____, the girl with crooked front teeth and who once ate a worm in second year. Your teeth weren't crooked at all anymore - thanks to a few years of braces - and finally clear of uncomfortable metals but you felt as if Fred would always see the ghost of them on your pearly whites when you smiled.

He had this view of you that blinded him, caused him to treat you as he treated Ginny while he flirted and played footsie with other girls, including Eva.

That did not stop Eva from giving you false hope, and you took the bait, naive like always. Hope, that's what ruined it all. "You're beautiful now, of course you have a chance!" she said, rubbing your shoulder reassuringly, as if she had warmth to begin with.

It was all false, yet you still believed. You always had. Like a fool.

Ginny didn't like Eva, and maybe that's why you gravitated towards her. She was the first person who had ever met Eva that wasn't charmed by her kind smile and attractive words. Eva was...displeased. She grew up having the attention of everyone around, so when Ginny Weasley told her straight to her face that she wasn't shit, Eva seethed. The attention of Ginny changed nothing though, because Eva was the main character. Everyone - except Ginny, and secretly Hermione (though she would never say it) - loved her, they followed her around like puppies and praised her on her wonky wand work.

The upcoming Yule Ball brought great upswing to Hogwarts.

You were far too busy with her classes to take interest in the tournament - even though the dragon race was the gnarliest sight you had ever seen. Your goal was set, become a badass Auror and move out as soon as possible, so you didn't have to face your parents (except Holidays, yuck.)

But the Yule Ball was your chance. A chance with Fred Weasley.

You could ask to go as friends and maybe, just maybe a little hope and the night would end much more romantic than you had anticipated.

Plucking up courage was the hardest part, you practiced with your bathroom mirror so long that Ginny had to blast through the door and drag you out of her dormitory.

Fred Weasley agreed, why wouldn't he? You, his closest friend, asking to go as a group and drink all night while gossiping? It was a win win. At least that's what you told herself.

That was a lie, it wasn't a win win.

You gave it your all getting ready, dress silk, makeup and expensive shoes. You took a long shower, scrubbing and shaving yourself to a smooth gliding porcelain, only for it all to be washed down with reddened eyes and a boy with even redder hair.

Fred greeted you the same, danced the same, and you chatted the same; you were reminded again, for the second time, that you stood no chance.

Fred told you that he was going to get drinks, a quick trip to the booth and mumbled I'll be back in a second. He was not back in a second. Several minutes passed, and your worries caused your feet to follow after Fred's footsteps.

You ran, trying to find him in the empty corridors of Hogwarts, tears welling in your eyes because he wouldn't. He wasn't that cruel, life wasn't that cruel.

But it was, and in a distant empty classroom you saw Fred Weasley, on his knees and between Eva's legs, groaning and praising her like a starved man. Worshipping her like everyone else had, burying himself in her and completely forgetting the drink he’d bring back in just a second. He’d left you thirsty and alone in the Great Hall and left you to drink from a cup he hadn’t known to be forbidden. Yet Eva did.

Eva's perfect dainty hands tangled in his ginger hair, thighs clamping shut while her high pitched moans flooded your mind and echoed around your head. They were so loud that she couldn’t even hear the loud echoes of your footsteps and the woeful cries that left your lips as you ran. It wouldn’t be the first time she had ignored your pain for her own selfish reasons.

Your heart shattered, and suddenly you were six again, watching your parents praise Eva, hang her drawing on the fridge. A soft breeze tickling your bare toes, dangling from the small cushioned seat you sat on while you watched Eva braid Mrs Y/L/N’s hair. Emotionless, silent, not asking for anything, knowing that you won't receive in return. Eva's small hands carefully placed the flower crown on Mrs Y/L/N’s pool of hair, and she smiled, heart warming and hopeful. Suddenly you remembered the feel of your own hands tangling in between your locks as you stood on your tiptoes, trying to imitate your mothers braid on yourself in the mirror you couldn't reach. You pretended, only for a moment before it twisted into knots.

What a cruel joke, you thought as you watched Eva receive the world from Fred, from your parents, from your friends and from every damn person you had met.

You cried on a big set of stairs that night, your wails echoing as you asked whoever, whatever what you had done. What you had done to deserve such treatment from the people around you. It was rather cliche - and maybe a bit too dramatic. It was an uncomfortable seat of course, and your body, as well as your heart, ached. Pain, misery, false hope and enough hair spray to melt the ozone.

The princesses always cried on big sets of stairs, uncomfortable stone floors causing them to shiver while they hid away their beautifully animated faces in their perfect hands. This was different, there was no fairy godmother to fix your makeup and clone a gentlemanly Fred Weasley, a perfect prince. You knew, because you cried, and prayed and cried and prayed until your throat was sore. There was no fairy godmother, it was all a lie. There was no happy ending. There would be none.

No one came to find you that night either, and you had to drag yourself back to the Gryffindor common room, feet bare, mascara, blush - anything else you put on in hopes of being able to become like Eva even only for one night - practically nonexistent from the way your tears washed them away.

You didn't sleep that night, and your head was unusually clear, pounding, but clear. You laid awake, eyes blood-shot and stinging while your dress shuffled uncomfortably between your sheets. You were too tired to change, and your dress was far too pretty to be worn so short.

Ginny's words replayed over and over again. "They're not worth it." her voice was so clear, and true. Mr and Mrs Burke weren't worth it. Your parents weren't worth it. Fred Weasley wasn't worth it. Eva wasn't worth it. The midnight chirping of bugs invited themselves in from your open window, and blue moonlight streaks beaming down in lines from the tulle curtain flowed with breeze, it was calming.

You felt calm, for the first time in sixteen years. You felt calm.

Fred and Eva started dating that week. Everyone acted like they expected it, and you realized just how blind you had been. Eva Burke and Fred Weasley, golden couple of Hogwarts.

You watched them, emotionless, as they embraced with love and so much passion that you felt embarrassed. Embarrassed at how you’d blushed and squeal over Fred in front of Eva and George and anyone who had found out because now you knew. Now you knew that their amused smiles were probably pitying grimaces because they knew that you two were never meant to be. It was always Fred and Eva.

Fred was an amazing boyfriend, making sure Eva was taken care of, lovingly staring at her whenever and wherever, arm looped around her waist at all times; you realized they were truly not worth it.

"You disgust me."

You didn't mean the words to escape so carelessly, but when you said them, you realized you didn't want to take them back. The growing pit in your stomach felt weightless. "Excuse me?" said Fred, stopping his nibbling on Eva's neck, who was just as shocked. You scoffed, Eva already had enough purple bruises to parade around so why did Fred have the need to add more?

"You heard me right," George, Lee, Ron, Harry, Katie and whoever sitting in their circle stared at you, wide-eyed, Ginny and Hermione, however, were grinning devilishly. Kind ____, wouldn't hurt a fly, quiet at times and didn't know how to stand up for herself. It was shocking, but you were done pretending. You didn't want to be like that anymore, you wanted to say whatever came to mind and not worry about the consequences. "You guys disgust me, I know I should be supportive but you don't match, at all."

You turned to George. "And you, no you can't talk about Katie like that." George went pink. "You're disgusting for sleeping around carelessly and telling girls you'd write, stop giving people false hope. Grow up. You’re nearly an adult and you can’t even treat a girl right."

"And you Lee," Lee went quiet. "What gives you the right to make fun of me like that. I'll wear whatever the fuck I want, just because you don't have the courage to wear a headband. If you can talk about my breasts, I'll talk about your shrimp."

"Ron, you take advantage of Hermione then lead her on. Open your eyes, asshole."

"Harry, you're not the main character. You're not always going to be the center of attention, nor do you have the right to yell at your friends."

"Alicia, god you're so stupid. I'm sorry, you're great but such an airhead. No, you can't ride a Thestral if you can't see them, and stop eating quill ink they're bad for you."

You stood up, grinning proudly, heart loud in your chest you feared someone might hear. "Frankly, I don't wanna be friends anymore. I'm done with this façade, except you two, 'Gin, Hermione. The rest of you are just so fake." she gestured to them. "Boys," she nodded again. "Don't talk to me anymore, and Lee, give me back the money, think it's about time don't you think? I've been paying for you since third year."

And with that, you left. You left Three Broomsticks, grin wide and chest heaving. Hermione and Ginny ran behind, whooping and cheering you on as they laughed.

The news of your outburst spread fast like wildfire caught in wind. That week was bliss, you no longer had to watch Fred and Eva, nor did you have to act sweet to anyone. You didn't have to laugh along Lee's sexist jokes and look away to wince, it was pure bliss. You realized that the feeling of being free didn’t have to be momentary.

Pansy Parkinson was surprisingly a good friend, she didn't have the same fakeness to her, the one Eva had where her smile was too kind. She spoke her mind, though every Slytherin did, and you liked that. Ginny wasn't happy with your new found friends, but she couldn't separate you. You made your own decisions from now on. It was refreshing.

You told your new friends everything, eager to get it off your chest and breathe, and they listened. For the first time, someone listened. You didn't have to get good grades, nor did you have to act like a sweet angel.

You teared up the first time Pansy said; "It's not your fault,". You knew it wasn't your fault, but hearing someone else say it with such genuine eyes made you believe. Actually believe.

It started off with you watching from the sidelines as Draco and Blaise pranked, insulted and shamed whatever your old friend group did. It wasn't unusual for Draco to act this way, but he got especially irritated after hearing what you told them. Blaise, someone usually quiet, had stepped up and decided to somehow release the pent up anger he had for the Gryffindor students.

The year ended, and you had started to sneak in an insult or two towards Fred and Eva. It felt nice, like finally, step by step you were clearing your years of hidden jealousy. But, there was no one to tell you that this simply wasn't the right way.

That summer, you stayed at the Burrow. Ginny had invited you and you were quick to say yes; obviously a fact forgotten. Fred, George and whoever you had insulted last year stayed in the same house. You simply didn't want to go home, and if this meant seeing Fred Weasley then you had to endure it.

Molly Weasley was the sweetest person you could ever meet, and it was genuine. It felt genuine, you feared your teeth might rot if the woman got another word in. Molly greeted you as if you were her own daughter she hadn't seen in years. You felt valued, seen.

Until Eva was there, Fred invited her. You had to watch the only person you were able to love, introduce the only person he was able to love to his mother. It wasn't you. It would never be you.

And you realized, even after everything, Eva had once again found a way to be more loved than you.

The grin Molly broke out was nothing short of beautiful, and you couldn't help but smile as well. The smile wasn't directed towards you of course, and you sat on that small kitchen chair, celebrating a relationship that caused your ruin.

Eva didn't care that your friendship was over, nothing budged in her life. She still got the same attention, still received the same love from Fred. The same affection, the same attention and the same everything. Or so it seemed.

Though unlike Eva, Fred merely watched you with sad eyes.

You stayed clear of the couple and the rest. You hung out with Ginny and Hermione only, ignoring the dirty looks Ron and Harry gave you. The secret, whispered insults Eva threw your way. George didn't say anything, but he didn't object either. This was enough to show how he felt. At this point you really didn't care. Why would you, when they didn’t either?

You held your head high just like Ginny and Hermione told you to, and you spoke in a loud and clear tone whenever asked something. Eva didn't, she stuttered when you spoke to her directly. Her words scrambled against each other when she tried to voice her insults in louder statements than a whisper. For the first time, you felt relief. You felt intimidating, protected by the barriers you had built around yourself.

Longest day of summer hit, and it boiled. Tanning became a distant dream, you would bake in this weather, and you were thankful to the big AC box you had brought from home. You couldn't sleep that night, sweat beads falling down your forehead that was already covered in a thin sheen. You had decided to get a cold glass of water, not sure how you ended up face to face with Fred Weasley. His wand tip shone with blue light, and his freckles were much darker because of the sun. It seemed the sun decided to be cruel to Fred Weasley back and wash Fred over with it's deathly heat. He was sunburnt, this was an understatement. He was burnt.

You couldn't help but start laughing when you met, ignoring the proximity, ignoring the sleeping house, dead silent and a big leap from the lively Burrow, ignoring Fred's soft breaths he let out every other second. You couldn't live off on false hope anymore.

Suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore, and your face quickly fell. You took a big step back and inhaled, ready to ignore him like you had been doing for the past year. But Fred Weasley was a persistent man, and he gripped your arm and looked at you with determined, doe-like eyes. "Tell me what I did wrong." he said, adamant on fixing this, whatever this was. You both didn't know.

You stood silent.

"Please flower,"

"Don't call me that." you said, stern and gaze sharp. Fred didn't react, he kept on insisting.

"Please, tell me how to fix this. I can fix it," he pleaded, a plethora of empty promises fell out of his lips like nothing. He lied like it was nothing, he was oblivious to everything he and everyone around them had put you through. It was infuriating.

You didn't say anything. You knew he would not fix anything but maybe staying silent would give him the false hope that spinned mockingly in your head for the past eighteen years.

"I'm sorry, just please. I can fix this, I promise, don't be like that." empty tears fell down from his eyes. He looked empty, tired. They lacked the charm they usually shined with and you wondered if it was only you that caused such dullness. Eye bags prominent that you never noticed before. It all felt like a lie, a cruel joke.

Fred Weasley was simply a cruel joke. His presence could only be compared to a shot of whiskey, especially when you down it like how Hagrid nurses a Firewhiskey filled pint glass. You never know how it will hit you. But in the end, you'd always find yourself curled next to the toilet, crying your eyes out because your headache was simply too much.

He was sobbing now, hanging onto your waist like you would simply vanish and you let him. The grip he had on was like steel vice - almost concerning - but you didn't touch him, didn't say anything. You just let him be, like he did to you. Allowed him to hopelessly hang off you before you would eventually leave him alone, like he did to you. "Where did I go wrong? How could we end up like this? What went wrong?"

‘You’, but your voice couldn’t be found.

Questions were useless when the answer was already right in front of his eyes. You didn’t let a single tear fall, you wouldn't forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

You blinked, and that night was over. Summer continued on like nothing happened, like it didn't leave you heart broken and in such shame yet again. You continued on ignoring Fred as he looked at you with sorrowful eyes. Looked at you more, with more than he did his own girlfriend.

You blinked and the school year started again with another terror looming around the corner. There was simply no need to keep up anymore, because school was easy. You attended classes, got good grades, a few scar here and there from Umbridge's torture chamber, a woman who stood at a whopping five foot three yet still teriffied an entire school.

You blinked and you had already become a proud member of Draco's insult the Gryffindor's club. You didn't even feel bad, being horrible to the people you hated for years felt like a breath of fresh air. You didn't go as far as physically hurting any of your old friends, but coming up with damaging insults was such fun. A lot more fun than sitting around with a fake smile.

You blinked, and you were already moving out from your childhood house. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N were unusually happy, this was a given. They would have a new empty room and make another office, like they didn't have enough already. You feared they would start getting rid of bathrooms once too into their work, and they would have to do their business in bushes or buckets. Scratch that, you didn't fear that, it would be fucking hilarious.

You blinked, and when had time passed too quickly? Where did all those empty childhood years had gone? You were already graduating, on your way to become an Auror. You had lost contact with all your old friends now, regretfully Ginny and Hermione too.

The war had hit too quickly, luckily you survived, so did your friends. Unluckily, it left you with a nasty scar right across your left brow. It looked sick, but the hit wasn't worth it. It hurt like a bitch. You could see, it was a close call but vision wasn't an issue. The trauma though, god did Bellatrix's breath smell bad.

When it was all over, you had seen Fred hugging his family tightly. It seemed the Weasley's all survived, and you gave them each tight lipped smiles while holding a bunched up rag to your head to stop the blood gushing out. This wasn't the reunion you wanted to have with Ginny, but hey, you take what you can get after a revolutionary Wizarding war you barely made out alive.

Before a franticly running Fred could reach you though, you apparated to your flat in Diagon Alley, ignoring the thrumming of your heart, and how you practiced in front of a mirror to congratulate their successful joke shop that morning.

#angst #hp angst #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #weasley twins #fred weasley angst #fred weasley smut #fred weasley series #reader insert #harry potter fluff #harry potter fic #fred weasley imagine

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etherrreal · 3 years

Text

“5:00am”

Pairing: ushijima x reader Genre: fluff Summary: looking back, you’re not sure what made you think that jogging with ushijima would end in anything but complete and utter disaster, but it’s too late to go back now WC: 5k Warnings: brief mentions of non-serious injury, a little blood, implied smut, too many paragraphs about ushijima’s hands A/N: first fic gang! this was supposed to be like 500 words but as the blog title suggests, i’m a liar -Dawn

You’re not sure what possesses you to go jogging with Ushijima at the ungodly hour of 5AM –and on a Saturday, no less– but here you are, tugging a windbreaker over your tank top and leggings while he waits for you by the door.

Most of it, you’re sure, is just because you miss him. The two of you have been so busy lately –you with your new job, him with the whole professional volleyball thing– so this is the first weekend in a while that you’ll actually be spending together.

It’s only natural that you want to spend as much time as possible with your boyfriend before your respective commitments are back to pulling you both in opposite directions, as they have more times than you’d like to admit in the past four months you’ve been dating.

Or maybe 5AM-you, lacking caffeine, sleep, and any sense of real judgment, is just losing your mind.

Ushijima certainly seems to think so, if the look he gives you when you volunteer to accompany him on his routine morning jog is any indication. He’s far from the most expressive person you’ve ever dated, but you’ve been with him long enough to register the surprise on his features; the way his pretty olive eyes widen a fraction and the way he pauses to watch you, like he’s trying to gauge how serious you are.

“What?” you ask as you join him by the door, removing your slippers.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You hate running.”

“Running? Absolutely. Jogging, however, I think I can handle, especially if it’s with my handsome boyfriend who I haven’t spent nearly enough time with lately.”

With your slippers out of the way, you move to reach for your sneakers next. A quick glance in his direction confirms that he’s still giving you that same bewildered look, a crease forming between his eyebrows. It makes you falter as you pick up your sneakers, wondering if you’ve made a mistake.

Now that you think about it, he does usually jog on his own. The two of you are no strangers to working out together –if him doing push-ups with you perched comfortably on his back counts as working out– but you’ve never actually joined him on a morning run before.

Is this something he prefers to do alone? Are you overstepping his boundaries by inviting yourself along before checking to see if it was okay? Suddenly, you find yourself wishing you would’ve asked first.

“Do you...not want me to go with you? Because if you’d prefer to go alone, that’s totally fine, I’ll just–”

He catches your wrist before you can put your sneakers back down, and the rest of your sentence is lost somewhere between the fingertips he presses against your skin and the other hand he uses to lift yours.

It’s almost criminal, you think, the way a single touch from him is enough to completely derail your train of thought, whatever you were babbling about suddenly the furthest thing from your mind. You think you shouldn’t be as phased by it by now, not after all the time you’ve spent together, but no such luck.

Really, it’s his hands that are the problem, now that you think about it. His hands, steady and calloused and strong, but still so undeniably gentle and patient when it comes to you.

It’s hard to pick your favorite feature of Ushijima’s when he looks the way he does –all tanned skin, broad shoulders, and chiseled abs– but his hands are pretty high up on your list. They have been from the moment you met him at Iwaizumi’s housewarming party last year.

You had obviously seen him before, though you never actually spoke to him until the party. It was mostly during high school volleyball matches between Aoba Johsai and Shiratorizawa, courtesy of your childhood friendship with Oikawa and Iwaizumi.

You remember spotting Ushijima and thinking he looked so serious and unapproachable, even more imposing than he did in the photos of him featured in that Monthly Volleyball magazine you used to watch Oikawa vandalize with ridiculous-looking mustaches and devil horns.

When you saw Ushijima at Iwaizumi’s party, he still looked serious, not to mention larger and even more intimidating in person, but his hands were warm and kinder than you were expecting, careful in the way they wrapped around yours when he introduced himself. It was only hours later when those same hands reached for yours again to help you off the couch that you realized you spent the whole night with him.

Now, months later, you’re standing with him in his stupidly expensive apartment, half-panicked that you might’ve overestimated his desire to spend time with you. But Ushijima’s hands are still steady and warm against your skin, even now, reassuring in a way you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of.

“I’d love it if you joined me,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand, and if you weren’t smiling before, then you definitely are now.

You pull on his hand to tug him down towards you, a request that he silently obliges. You perch on your toes to reach him and deliver a chaste kiss to his lips, smiling against his mouth. When you pull away to look at him, you find him smiling, too, in that soft and subtle way of his that you’re so glad he’s chosen to share with you.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful,” he adds. “We’ll be running for a while, and I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re clumsier than most.”

Sadly, he’s not wrong. You are pretty clumsy, almost cartoonishly so. He’s watched you bang your leg on his dining room table practically every time you pass it, heard you curse to yourself after accidentally knocking down every item in his shower. At this point, holding your arm in his is as natural to him as breathing, just so he’s there to keep you from tripping over your own two feet.

And while you definitely appreciate the concern, you don’t think it’s entirely necessary, at least not for this. Sure, you have a bad habit of falling on your ass more often than not, but you’re also able to do so without sustaining any major injuries. You’re confident this time will be no different.

Besides, it’s just one jog. You’ll survive, even if your muscles might hate you for it later. Still, you know he worries about you, which is why you reach up to give him another quick kiss.

“Deal,” you assure him once you pull away. Then, you grin, voice taking on a more teasing edge as you look up at him. “As long as you promise not to be embarrassed when I leave you in the dust. You know, since I’m just so naturally athletic.”

Ushijima’s never been the best at detecting sarcasm, but with you, like so many other things, it’s different. He can tell you’re joking by the way you giggle and wink at him, and when he huffs out a quiet laugh, you smile and sit down to put on your sneakers.

He surprises you when he kneels to tie them for you before you get the chance to do it yourself.

“Careful, Wakatoshi,” you warn him, not for the first time. “If you keep being so sweet to me, you’ll never be able to get rid of me. You might just be stuck with me forever.”

“That’s fine,” he says, like he’s already considered the consequences before and has chosen to accept them. “You’re the only one I can imagine being with for that long, anyway.”

He moves on to tie the laces on your second sneaker, taking zero responsibility for the way his words make your heart flutter in your chest. He always does this: says stupidly romantic things with barely any prompting and absolutely no consideration or even awareness of the effect they have on you.

His voice doesn’t change when he says them, either. He uses the same blunt tone he always does, like it’s a simple fact, like he’s asking you to pass him his phone charger instead of alluding to a potential future with you.

It just makes you fall that much more in love with him.

Not that you’ve actually told him yet. You’re still waiting for the right moment. You wonder if maybe this might be it, but then he stands up and turns away from you to open the door and the opportunity is gone.

Maybe that’s for the best. This morning, you decide that you can handle jogging with your pro-athlete boyfriend or confessing your love for him, not both. The latter will just have to wait for dinner tonight, assuming you make it back in one piece and your legs don’t just fall off from the sudden exercise.

You stand up and follow him out the door.

Ushijima insists you both take the time to stretch before you actually start running, so you spend a few minutes doing so in the empty lobby. You pretend to struggle with a few of them, just so you’ll have an excuse to have his hands on you.

You’re almost positive he sees through your little ruse, if the amused look he gives you is any indication, but he doesn’t complain, guiding his hands over your body to help you bend and stretch like he can’t see the grin on your face.

Once you’re all warmed up, you’re ready to start jogging. You follow behind him as he leads you along his usual path down the block, the streets noticeably empty, save for the occasional passing car.

You know the only reason you’re able to keep up with him is because he’s slowing down for you, but you don’t let it bother you. He’s a professional athlete, after all, and you’re the kind of person who doesn’t even like to run to catch the bus, so it’s to be expected. Still, you give it your all, remembering to keep your breathing steady just like he taught you.

And you have to admit, your aversion to any sort of cardio aside, jogging with Ushijima is actually kind of fun.

For the first five minutes, at least.

Then it all goes to shit.

You’re not sure how it happens, either. One moment, everything is great. Sure, you’re already feeling a little sweaty, and maybe your lungs are screaming at you just a tiny bit –the price of inactivity, and all that– but you power through it because, in the words of so many great orators before you, mama ain’t raise no bitch.

But then you trip on something –a pothole in the street, your own foot, who the hell knows– and suddenly you’re wiping out for the entire world –or maybe just your boyfriend and that one stray cat you passed, which is still pretty embarrassing– to see.

Ushijima’s quite a few feet ahead of you now, because as much as he tried to slow down for you in the beginning, you figure he just can’t help but speed up a bit. He’s not the type to do anything half-assed, not even a casual morning jog. You’re almost grateful for it in a way, because it means he doesn’t actually see you trip and stumble like a baby deer learning to walk for the first time.

He does, however, hear the yelp that escapes your throat, making him glance over his shoulder just in time to see you fall forward. He runs back towards you, but he’s too far to reach you in time, and your knees hit the pavement hard, your hands shooting out to catch yourself as best as you can.

You don’t even have to look to know that the skin on both your knees and your palms is scraped up. There’s also a shooting pain that starts at your ankle and darts right up your leg, reassuring you that you most definitely stepped on it wrong.

Ushijima is by your side in an instant, normally stoic face scrunched up with worry. He helps you twist yourself into a more comfortable position on the sidewalk, though it does little to ease your embarrassment or your annoyance with your own incoordination.

“I’m okay,” you try to reassure him, but that’s not entirely the truth. Your palms are stinging and your ankle is throbbing, not to mention the fact that your knees currently resemble a cat’s scratching post. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

The look he gives you is doubtful, and you know for a fact he doesn’t believe you at all. “You’re bleeding.”

And holy crap, you are. It shouldn’t be a surprise to you, since you felt the entire thing, but the sight of the blood on your knees and palms still stuns you a bit.

“Come on.” He wraps his arms around you, pulling you up with ease you would normally marvel at if it didn’t make you feel so pathetic. “We’re going back. I’ll be able to treat your wounds and take a better look at your ankle.”

“Whaa– but we’ve barely even started jogging!” you protest, pouting despite the stinging of your cuts. “I told you that I’m fine, Toshi. I can still walk–”

You try to put pressure on the ankle you rolled and immediately wince. You almost stumble forward again, but this time Ushijima is there to catch you, holding you against him with his arms around your waist.

“No, you can’t. You need to treat your injuries, so stop being stubborn and let me help you. We’re going back.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, eyebrows drawing together in frustration –mostly at yourself– but stubborn as you are, you know he’s right. There’s no arguing your way out of this one, not that he would listen to you in the first place. He’s always been protective of you, which means he won’t be budging on this.

You heave a defeated sigh but nod at him anyway, relenting. He helps you hobble along with your arm around his shoulders and his arm around your waist for a few steps before he seems to think better of it.

In one fluid motion, he’s picking you up in his arms, holding you bridal style against his chest. And while normally his arms are one of your favorite places to be, the fact that he has to carry you like this all because you’re an idiot who can’t watch where you’re going is doing nothing to ease your already damaged pride.

You try to convince him to put you down and let you walk on your own, but unsurprisingly, he doesn’t agree. Your face, which is already warm with embarrassment, just seems to heat up even more. Your mortification only increases when you spot his apartment building a few streets later.

God, the two of you were running for what, maybe five minutes? Six? And now you’re already back home? Talk about embarrassing. And right after you promised him to be careful, too.

The fact that the pothole –which you are now deciding to blame for your fall, because you don’t think your ego can handle anything else– had the audacity to trip you and then not immediately swallow you whole to save you this embarrassment is honestly disrespectful, at this point.

Ushijima was right earlier. You do hate running. And you hate yourself even more for believing that jogging at any hour –least of all 5AM– would end in anything other than complete and utter disaster.

Your only consolation is that it’s so early, chances are that no one else saw you trip and almost eat shit in the middle of the street. It’s the little victories that count, you suppose, though you might just have to burn this outfit later to rid yourself of the reminder. You’re not sure how you’re ever going to live this one down.

Thankfully, the universe seems to take some pity on you, since you don’t pass any of Ushijima’s neighbors in the lobby. He maneuvers you into the apartment, managing to close the door behind him and remove his sneakers without putting you down.

When he does finally let you go, it’s to place you delicately on his bed. He disappears from the room and returns a moment later with a first aid kit and an ice pack, while you flop defeatedly onto your back against his pillows, pouting.

“I can’t believe I actually fell.” You groan, throwing an arm over your eyes. You feel the bed dip beneath his weight as he sits beside you, but you still don’t move. “The one time I willingly decide to run, and this is what happens. We didn’t even make it past the supermarket!”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It could’ve happened to anyone,” he says, opening the first aid kit. His voice is as straightforward as ever, but you know he’s trying to comfort you in his own way. “Besides, it could’ve been a lot worse.”

“Worse than twisting my ankle and making a fool of myself five minutes in?” You shift to prop yourself up on your elbows and raise an eyebrow at him. “How?”

“You could’ve twisted your ankle and made a fool of yourself two minutes in instead.”

The bluntness of his response makes you snort, cracking a half-smile as you push yourself to sit up fully. “Good point.”

You watch as he gets to work, mesmerized by how careful he is with you. He takes your palms in his hands, wiping away the blood gently and cleaning the small scratches it reveals. The scrapes on your knees, which he moves to next, sting more, but he moves slowly enough that it doesn’t overwhelm you. He’s always taken such good care of you, and this time is no different.

After all of your scrapes are covered, he examines your ankle, which is unsurprisingly the worst of your injuries. When he helps you tug your sneaker and sock off, you can both see it’s already swelling.

It’s not broken, he assures you, but it is lightly sprained. You’ll need to rest and compress it until you’re ready to walk on it again, but the ice should help with the swelling. He lifts your ankle on top of a few pillows to keep it elevated, covering it with the ice pack.

He moves higher up on the bed to sit beside you against the headboard, searching your face for any signs of discomfort. “How does that feel?”

“It still hurts, but it’s not as bad as before,” you answer. “Honestly, I think my pride is more damaged than anything else.”

You lean back against the pillows propped up on his headboard and sigh, unable to stop the guilty frown tugging at your lips. As grateful as you are for his help, you also feel really bad that he had to stop and take care of you at all.

If you hadn’t insisted on joining him on his run, then none of this would’ve happened. You would still have two normal-sized ankles, and he would be able to finish his run without having to worry about you and your chronic clumsiness.

“I’m sorry I ruined our jog,” you find yourself apologizing, fiddling with the hem of your shirt guiltily. “It was supposed to be cute and fun, but all I did was screw it up. I’m sorry you had to come back to take care of me.”

Ushijima shakes his head. “Taking care of you isn’t a burden. There’s no need for you to apologize.”

His hands reach for yours, large enough to engulf your own as he turns them over. His eyes follow the path his fingertips trace lightly over the band-aids covering the scratches on your palms. “If I hadn’t gone on ahead of you–”

You press a hand against his chest to stop him, his eyes flickering back up to meet your own.

As endearing as his concern is, he’s not the one at fault here. You don’t think anyone is, really, except for maybe that damned pothole you may or may not have tripped on. More importantly, you don’t want him to blame himself for this.

“Nuh-uh, nope, none of that. I’m the one who tripped, remember? It’s not your fault I suck at running. Or any kind of physical activity, actually.”

You pause, tilting your head thoughtfully as you mull over your own words. He watches the mischievous smile he’s learned to love appear on your face, hears the teasing edge seeping into your tone as you lower your voice just a bit.

“Except maybe the one that involves you railing me into the mattress,” you add with a smirk, playful and just shameless enough in a way that never fails to draw him in even more. “That one, I don’t mind, for obvious reasons.”

He sighs, though your words don’t surprise him. “I really wish you wouldn’t word it that way.”

“Too late~”

You’re practically singing as you grin at him, grabbing his chin and bringing his face closer to yours.

He mutters something about you having a one track mind, but you don’t miss the amusement in his eyes or the fond little smile he casts in your direction. He doesn’t stop you from pulling him in either, allowing you to rest your other hand on the side of his face.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me, Wakatoshi.”

You meet him halfway for a loving kiss that you hope is enough to express your gratitude, one he doesn’t hesitate to return. When you break apart, he rests his forehead against yours.

And right when you think you can’t possibly love him anymore, he promises quietly, sincerely, “Always.”

As usual, he gives you no time to recover. He kisses you on the forehead and then stands up, announcing that there’s something else he needs to go grab before leaving the room.

Honestly, you’re hoping it’s food. You’re starving, and after all of this morning’s excitement* (see also: trauma), there’s nothing more you want than to cuddle up alongside your boyfriend while enjoying a plate of your favorite breakfast food.

To your surprise –and slight disappointment– when Ushijima returns, it’s not with food or anything else to treat your injuries, but rather with a set of keys. He sits beside you again, opening his palm to offer them to you.

“Well, those aren’t pancakes.” You take the keys anyway, twirling the ring around one of your fingers before raising an eyebrow at him. “Are these what I think they are?”

“The keys to my apartment,” he confirms. “I want you to move in with me.”

Your eyes widen. It’s not the last thing you expected him to ask you when he offered you the keys, but it’s definitely not the first one either.

When he first held them out to you, you thought maybe he was just giving you a copy of your own to hold onto, just in case you ever needed them. You’ve thought about offering him the same a few times before, just so he could let himself into your own apartment whenever he comes over instead of you having to get up and open the door for him.

But that’s not what’s happening here. It looks like Ushijima’s chosen to skip the exchanging apartment keys step entirely in favor of just straight up asking you to move in with him. And while part of you is thrilled by it, your heart hammering in your chest with excitement at the prospect of getting to wake up next to him every day, of getting to come home to him, there’s another part of you that’s wondering if maybe you’re moving too fast.

It’s not that you don’t trust him, or that you doubt how much he cares for you, because you don’t. Your previous partners couldn’t even spell commitment, much less agree to it, but Ushijima’s not like them.

He told you, not too long after the first few times you went out together, that he doesn’t believe in dating casually or wasting his time. If he’s with someone, it’s because he sees a future with them. Hearing that was a bit intimidating at first, but it was also extraordinarily refreshing.

Asking you to move in with him, you know, is just another step towards that future. And while the idea excites you, making you feel more secure and adored than in any of your past relationships, there’s a part of you that’s still a bit hesitant.

After all, what sets you and Ushijima apart –more than your senses of humor, more than your completely different levels of athletic ability, as evidenced by the ice pack and bandages you’re currently sporting– is the fact that you, unlike him, often get caught up in the “what-if’s” of a situation. Whenever you have to make a decision, you psych yourself out by imagining every little thing that could possibly go wrong.

He calls your name, tearing you from your thoughts. He’s looking at you like he already knows what you’re thinking, like he can see the tangle of anxiety you feel nestling into your bones. Maybe that’s why he reaches out to take the hand that’s not holding his keys, lacing your fingers together.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “You haven’t said anything.”

“I know, I know, I’m just...processing.” You give his hand a quick squeeze, moving the keys around in your other palm. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Since my last away game.” He answers right away like he doesn’t have to think about it, like he just knows. Not for the first time, you find yourself envying his conviction. “I went straight to your apartment from the airport, and you were already there, waiting. I realized how much I liked the idea of getting to come home to you, and vice versa. I’ve been waiting for the right time to ask you to move in since then.”

“Wakatoshi, that was last month. You’ve known since back then?” You stare at him with wide, wondering eyes, your cheeks already warming at the implication, growing even warmer when he nods. “And you don’t think it’s too soon? You’re not the least bit hesitant about living with me?”

“Hesitation is only necessary for those who are unsure of their desires. I know what I want, and that’s you, if you’ll have me.”

If you’ll have me. He says it like it’s easy. Like he’s already yours, to love and to be loved by.

And he is, you realize. He has been for a while, just like you have. You knew you were in love with him this morning, and you’ve known it for weeks before that, too. You just weren’t sure when or how to bring it up, but now you are.

“I’d like that. I like you– wait, that’s not right.” You release his hand, and he stares at you in confusion, the corner of his mouth curving downward. You’re quick to smooth it away with your thumb, your eyes earnest and full of affection as you correct yourself, “I love you, Wakatoshi.”

The confusion in his eyes quickly transforms into surprise. You’re not sure what stuns him more: your confession itself, or the confident, doubtless way you say it. You smile at him and take his face into your hands, careful to move his keys so they don’t scratch him.

“I’ve known it for a while. I just wasn’t sure when to bring it up, but now I am. I don’t expect you to say it back unless you’re ready, but–”

“I love you,” he says confidently, unwaveringly, and now it’s your turn to be stunned.

You blink, taken aback for a few seconds before your lips begin curving into a goofy smile. “Really?”

He hums affirmatively, and after that you can’t do anything besides kiss him. He’s quick to return the gesture, moving his mouth against yours and winding one arm around your waist to pull you closer. He pulls back from you right when you’re about to deepen the kiss. You try to pout, but it’s hard to do so when you feel as giddy and over the moon as you do now.

“Does this mean you’ll be moving in with me?”

“Of course.” You beam at him. “I’d love to move in with you, Wakatoshi.”

He smiles, his arm moving up to wrap around your shoulders, and your own smile grows brighter as you lean into him, cuddling against his side and resting your head against his chest. Things between you are quiet for a few moments, both of you basking in the comfortable silence.

You’re shifting his keys in your hand when a thought occurs to you, and you can’t help the laugh that escapes your chest.

“So this is why you let me go running with you this morning,” you tease. “You knew that if I did injure myself, that would just make it harder for me to leave, so I’d have no choice but to say yes to moving in. How sneaky of you.”

“You volunteered to join me–”

“I know, Toshi, I’m just kidding.” You grin, tilting your head to look up at him. “So, what do you say we go make some breakfast in your kitchen? I’m starving.”

“Our kitchen now,” he corrects, and your heart flutters in your chest for what must be the tenth time in the hour or so you’ve been awake this morning. It can’t be healthy for you. “And I’ll be the one making breakfast. You stay here and rest that ankle.”

He kisses your forehead and stands up to head into the kitchen. You frown at the loss of his warmth, but another look at the keys in your hand has you smiling again.

Maybe jogging isn’t so bad after all.

Written by: Dawn

#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #haikyuu x reader #ushijima imagines #haikyuu imagines #ushijima x y/n #ushijima x you #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq x reader #our writing #ushijima fluff #ushijima wakatoshi fluff #haikyuu fluff #dawn writes

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biggest-stupidhead · 3 years

Note

Heyy!!

I dont think there's such think as semen donors in aot cannon?

BUT WHAT IF Captain Levi agrees to be the donor to squad leader (or just cadet) reader in a platonic relationship/eventual romance?

Just cute ackerbabies!

Lmao you’re probably right, no semen donors in canonverse. But I honestly love this idea so much, I feel like it would be hard for Levi to make that romantic connection so I could see him making that choice, and maybe it developing into something more!

Summary: Levi can’t wait any longer to start a family, and you are willing to take that step with him.

Word Count: 1.7K

You choked on the small sip of tea that you had taken. Catching the small drops of liquid that had escaped your lips.

“Come again now?” You managed to form words after a moment, Levi seemed uninterested as always, those charcoal grey eyes dull and apathetic.

“You heard me just fine, you know that I hate repeating myself.” He scoffed as he shifted so that his leg was crossed over his opposite knee,

“Yes I heard you but....marriage?” You were shocked to say the least. Levi had never shown any prior interest in any long term relationship with anyone, although the two of you had hooked up a handful of times.

“I don’t see why not. We already share a room, not to mention that we-”

“Okay I get it, just...it’s a big commitment and I’m not sure that I’m-”

“Oh please, what else do we have to look forward to anymore? No more fighting, no more political issues to deal with might as well settle down and...” He trailed off, his gaze cast downwards into his cup of tea, which was probably cold by now. You sighed deeply, placing your cup down gently and leaning back into the sofa that the two of you were seated on. His arm was slung casually across the back of the sofa, his finger tips ghosting over your shoulder.

“I know but Levi...marriage?” you were a bit disappointed. He had said it so casually, as if he was asking you if you wanted to run to the market to grab apples.

“If you don’t want to then just say no.” He snapped, clearly getting frustrated, he rose to his feet and began to march towards his desk. You chased after him, catching his wrist. You knew it was difficult for him to express himself, to put things lightly or being considerate to your feelings.

“It’s not that...I’m just a little caught off guard.” You admitted as you held his wrist gently. He let out a breath that he had seemed to have been holding in, he turned and laced his fingers through yours, his other hand diving into his pant pocket. You waited patiently for him to say something, but he only pulled out a small black box. Your heart skipped a beat, this was more how you had pictured being proposed to. He fell onto his knee and opened the box slowly, revealing a modest silver ring with a small diamond embedded in the ring.

“Oh Levi...” Your fingers were still laced with his as he knelt down, you squeezed his hand affectionately.

“I already bought the damn ring, just say yes.” He grunted, averting his gaze as his thumb glided over your knuckle.

“You have a point there.” You chuckled as you gave him a small nod, which was enough of a yes for him.

You were married by the end of the month, a simple court house wedding with Armin and Mikasa as your witnesses. Afterwards you had gone home and eaten dinner as usual. Just another week, except now the sex that you and Levi occasionally had, became a hell of a lot more regular. You had no complaints, or at least that was until you were hunched over the kitchen sink puking your guts out. You had missed your period as well, and it didn’t take a genius to know what that meant. You decided to wait until you were certain to tell anyone this however, seeing how difficult pregnancy could be, and the unlikeliness of carrying to full term seemed high.

So you made sure to go to the doctor twice before telling Levi that you were pregnant. He’d had a very similar reaction that you’d had when he had asked to marry you.

He choked on his tea, his hand flying to his chin to catch the liquid.

“Pregnant?” He repeated, and you nodded, leaning against the table where he was sitting.

“H-How long until...”

“Give or take seven months.” You shrugged, trying to put on a brave face, after seeing how frazzled he was you wanted to make this as casual as the rest of your relationship.

“So...we should probably start cleaning out that spare room and-” You cut him off by kneeling down and placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“We’ve got plenty of time for that, for now let’s just...enjoy not being responsible for a helpless shitty baby.” You said softly as you slowly sank onto his lap. He hummed his approval, but still seemed rightfully on edge.

“We can start cleaning the room in few weeks, there’s no rush.” You assured him as you scattered kisses across his sour face.

“I’ll start tomorrow.” Levi hummed as he tilted his head to the side.

Turned out that you were both in way over your head. Around 12 weeks into your pregnancy Hange was pressing her stethoscope to your rapidly swelling belly when she froze. Levi tensed when he noticed this, and you frowned.

“What is it?” Levi asked as he gripped the back of the exam table.

“Nothing’s wrong...just-”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.” Levi scowled as he watched Hange continue to feel around your stomach.

“That’s cause it isn’t nothing, I’m hearing two heart beats.” Hange told you as she stood to her full height.

“Two heart beats?” You felt feint at the news, you had known that twins ran in your family but you had never expected to have them yourself.

“Yes, it appears that you are having twins” Hange said with a wide smile as she folded up the stethoscope. Your vision blurred, the worry that you had been experiencing prior to the appointment had doubled along with the number of children you were having.

“No shit.” Levi replied breathily as he held your shoulder firmly.

“If I were you guys I’d go clean out that room now.” Hange advised as she cleaned up the space that you had been using as a makeshift exam room in her office.

“I’ll get right on that.” Levi said, shooting you a concerned look as he helped you up onto your feet.

The twins were born premature, the labor itself wasn’t nearly as bad as you had expected. But you realized that it wasn’t that bad because of how small they were. The only reason that they both survived was thanks to the Marleyan medical equipment that had been shipped over courtesy of Zeke and Yelena. You and Levi spent countless hours in the hospital as you awaited for the twins to be discharged. In that window of time you decided on names, it was difficult but you decided on Harrison and Harper. You weren’t surprised to find that they both took after their father, dark bluish grey eyes with a full head of black hair. The one thing they seemed to have gotten from you was your facial structure and your complexion.

It was a massive relief to bring them home, now instead of staying up until the wee hours in the hospital you could do it in the comfort of your own home.

One particular evening you were walking laps with Harrison, gently patting his back as you bounced off of your heels as he cried. On your third lap around the entire cottage, you peeked into the nursery to see Levi reclined on the rocker with Harper fast asleep. His eyes were closed, his naked chest rising and falling evenly as he slept. You envied him as you rubbed circles on Harrison’s back once more. His cries slowly died out and you managed to drag yourself to your bed and place Harrison down gently. Using the extra pillows, you managed to make a small barrier between him and yourself as well as the edge of the bed. It wasn’t often that you got to do this, seeing as you usually slept with Levi. But Harrison seemed content with laying in his dad’s spot for the night. His big blue eyes were watching your hair sway over his face as you adjusted the pillows. He cooed and babbled for a few minutes before falling silent, his tiny breaths putting you at ease.

It couldn’t have been but an hour later when the sound of Harper crying woke you once more. Levi was pacing around the same way that you had been earlier before he finally managed to put her at ease. He returned to your room to see you sitting up, Harrison fast asleep at your side.

“Care to join us?” You asked, voice gruff with sleep, or rather the lack there of.

“Would I ever.” Levi groaned as he placed Harper in the pillow barrier with Harrison who was still fast asleep. He managed to squeeze onto the bed, laying on his side like you were as the two of you watched Harper sooth herself into sleep. His gaze left the small baby in favor of studying your features.

“What would you have done if I had never asked you to marry me?” The question caught you off guard, your fingers were tracing the soft features of your babies. You hummed in thought but the answer was already on the tip of your tongue.

“I’d have asked you to marry me.” You said with a wry smile and Levi rolled his eyes at your cheesy reply.

“That’s not what I meant...well not really.” Levi grumbled, you paused again in thought. What would you have done? Certainly no more military work, that chapter was over for you.

“Maybe I’d open a bakery. My grandmother left me all of her recipes. What would you do?” You asked, finger running along the soft dark locks of hair that were growing from Harrison’s head.

“I’d open a tea shop.” Levi answered quickly, his own gaze back on the babies, his hand resting on Harper’s stomach, rising and falling with her breathing.

“Why don’t we just say fuck it and do it?” You asked, not sure if you were serious or if it was the lack of sleep talking.

“There was that space for lease last time we went into town...” Levi offered thoughtfully.

“Yeah, we could fix it up and open a cafe.” You said excitedly as you leaned over the sleeping babies in hopes of coaxing a kiss from Levi. He nodded in agreement before leaning over and planting a kiss to your lips.

“We’ll talk about it in the morning. Go to sleep.” Levi sighed as he stretched out on his side, and closing his eyes. You smiled and mirrored him, your hand resting on Harrison’s stomach now as well, your fingertips brushing his.

You knew that you’d made the right choice. Marrying Levi was the best decision that you’d made in a long time. It may not look like the typical love story, but you knew that it was real, realer than most relationships. And you wouldn’t want to have it with anyone else.

#hange zoe #levi ackerman #levi aot #aot fanfiction #levi x reader #armin arlert #eren jeager #eren mikasa armin #erwin smith #mikasa ackerman #levi fanfiction #levi is a dad #levi x y/n #levi x pregnant reader #levi x reader insert #levi/reader #levi x fem!reader

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tobesolonely · 3 years

Text

aura (II)

A/n: hi everyone! thank you for reading aura and enjoying it enough to ask for a part 2! i hope this lives up to what you guys want! Thanks so much <3 p.s. i am so sorry but I lost track of who asked to be on the taglist :-( So if u would like, please send me an ask and i will definitely add you next time i post about them!

summary: witch!y/n can see auras and harry is no longer blue. he’s pink!

my ko-fi! thank you :)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Harry always found Y/N to be a bit strange since his first encounter with her, but he never thought she was the type who could kill house plants with just the flick of her finger.

“What just happened?” Harry loudly questions, moving as far away from her as he could get. “How did you do that? What’s going on?” His aura is red and muddy gray. Anxiety, nervousness, and fear.

“How did I do what?” Y/N asks. She wasn’t willing to give herself up so easily.

“You killed my Pothos! I saw you,” Harry points at her accusingly. “Saw ya flick your finger and then it died. Do y’know how hard it is for that thing to die? I forget to water it all the time and it was still doin’ great!”

“Really? It didn’t look too great when I got here -”

“That’s not true,” Harry interrupts her. “You’re tryin’ to make me feel crazy! I know what I saw.”

It’s silent. Neither Y/N nor Harry says anything for what has to be at least half a minute. Y/N doesn’t know if she should tell the truth or try to convince Harry he didn’t see what he thought he saw, and Harry is too frightened to move. Finally, Y/N breaks the silence.

“Harry, it was your bad energy that killed your plant. I was just redirecting it because I didn’t wanna be stuck with it again.” Y/N nervously tugs on the hem of her shirt.

“What do you mean?” Harry inquires, moving slightly closer to her once more. He was still frightened, but quite curious about how Y/N would explain the situation at hand.

Y/N didn’t know what to say. If there was one thing she knew, it was that her… capabilities were not really supposed to be shared with anyone. Of course, they weren’t! It was a hard concept to understand. It was assumed that people who didn’t have this ability would ostracize those who did— potentially even hurt them.

She knew in her heart that Harry wasn’t the type to ever harm her, but her mother always told her she could never be too careful. Y/N lived by those words, always replaying them in her head whenever she wanted to open up to anyone about all that she could do. Harry looks at Y/N expectantly, waiting for her to speak. She seems far away, lost in some thought that Harry didn’t want to break her from.

“Ever since I was little, I’ve always been a really empathetic person,” she starts. “It seemed like I always knew the right things to say to help someone feel better, and I could always cheer them up. My saying this isn’t to brag at all, it was just how it was.” Harry smiles at this but doesn’t say anything, waiting for her to continue.

“I realized something was different about me when my friend came to school one day really sad because her fish had died that morning,” Y/N inhales softly. “Of course I felt for her, you know? Like I said, I was a very empathetic person. When I went in to give her a hug though, I felt so weird immediately after! She was fine, though. It was like she didn’t even care anymore.”

“She just wasn’t sad about it anymore?”

“She missed her fish still, of course. She was just able to reflect on how happy having a pet fish made her and all the good times she had with him. I felt terrible, though. I literally had taken on her pain just from hugging her.”

As Harry takes in what she’s saying, it all starts to make sense to him.

The second time he met her, she was so adamant about knowing what was wrong with him. Harry thought he only felt better because he had talked to her about it instead of holding it in as he usually did (and that could’ve been part of the reason!), but she had also touched him.

It had happened so quickly, Harry didn’t even think anything of it. And why would he? It was nothing more than a gentle touch, gone as quickly as it was there. Now that he knew what he did, it all made sense.

“Can I ask you something, Y/N?”

“You can ask me anything, Harry.”

“How do you always know when I’m not feelin’ well? Jus’ by looking at me?”

“Well,” Y/N starts, a bit hesitant. “I can see it. Your aura.”

“My aura?”

“Your spiritual energy— it has colors.”

“What color am I right now?”

“Red and gray. You’re scared and nervous.” Y/N responds quickly. She’s right.

“How can you see it?”

“I’m not sure. I started becoming able to see auras once I learned I was able to take away people’s emotional pain…” Y/N trails off. “I know it’s odd.”

“Can you… show me?”

“You want me to show you? Show you what?”

“The thing you jus’ did.”

“It only works when you have bad energy.”

Harry raises an eyebrow at Y/N in confusion. “Thought you said I was scared and nervous?”

“Well,” Y/N hesitates. “Now you’re… uh, pink.”

“Pink?”

“You’re feeling love.”

Harry feels his cheeks flush as he quickly looks away, hating in that moment that Y/N could literally see what he was feeling. If that was really the case, how much longer would he be able to fight with himself about how he felt about her if even she knew his true feelings?

He’s saved by the sound of his doorbell ringing, figuring it was his assistant dropping off lunch for him and Y/N. “Be right back.” He says quietly, getting up from the couch, still avoiding eye contact with Y/N.

Now it’s Y/N’s turn to be confused.

She was beginning to notice that Harry turned pink around her quite often— literally. Not only would his skin flush at her presence, but his aura would change too. Y/N decided to tell herself there was no way it could mean anything. Of course it meant nothing! She just met this man. His feelings (or lack of) for her meant nothing. Y/N was just glad Harry couldn’t read her aura in the same way she could read his.

If he could, he would see she was always pink, too.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Harry couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N.

She was magical. Literally.

After she had left that evening, Harry spent more time than he would like to admit researching auras and empathy. He learned there was a range of colors one's auras could be at any given time, and it was always subject to change. Harry figured that if he could see Y/N’s aura, it would always be shining gold.

Y/N didn’t explicitly tell Harry not to tell anyone about this, but he knew it was something he should keep to himself. He wanted her to trust him and know she was safe around him. Telling anyone what he assumed to be her biggest secret would do nothing but push her away from him— and that was the last thing Harry wanted.

He needed to hear her sweet voice again.

Harry didn’t want Y/N to think he was obsessed with her, but the cat was already out the bag. She could literally see that he had feelings for her. The way Harry saw things, this meant he could lean into his small crush on Y/N now rather than try and deny it. He just hoped she wouldn’t find him bothersome.

When she picks up his call after the third ring, Harry swears his heart just about beats out of his chest.

”Hi Harry. How are you?”

It takes him a moment to compose himself. “H- hi Y/N. Doin’ better, thanks for askin’... I was thinking of you.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” Harry hums. “S’why I called. What are you up to today?”

“Nothing, really. Just at work.”

Oh. Work.

Y/N was so celestial, heavenly that Harry had forgotten she at her core a regular person who still had to work to pay their bills, just like everyone else. Just like him.

“I don’t mean to bother you while you’re busy. I’ll let you go.” Harry offers this as a courtesy, but he’s hoping Y/N will say he’s not a bother at all and she’s happy to talk to him.

“I think that would work out a bit better. I’ll talk to you as soon as I can. Bye, Harry!”

Harry is met with three short beeps that signify the call has ended.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about Harry.

He called her first! It made her heart flutter to know he was thinking of her. She’s glad he doesn’t know she was thinking about him as well.

It was nice to hear from him. Truth be told, Y/N was always worried about Harry. She worried that he wasn’t sleeping enough, eating enough, or telling people ‘yes’ when he should really be saying ‘no’. She worried he was unhappy. All she wanted was for him to be happy. Although Y/N couldn’t physically see him over the phone, she knew he was doing well today.

Y/N couldn’t say she wasn’t surprised to see Harry’s number flash across her phone. She thought that surely after telling him what she did he would want nothing to do with her. She was glad that he didn’t scare away easily, and that just made her feel even more warmth inside of her body. Y/N looked around the workroom filled with her other co-workers and she hoped there was no one else like her in the building lest they see how pink she was. She was absolutely smitten!

“Y/N, are you with us? What do you think?”

Y/N is broken out of her thoughts by her boss with the call of her name. In her Harry-haze she had completely zoned out, forgetting she was in the middle of an important work meeting.

“I’m very sorry. My mind was somewhere else for a moment,” she turns to face her boss, eyes wonder-filled. “Would you mind repeating the question?” Y/N sees her boss briefly turn from red to pink and back to yellow before he repeats himself, clearing his throat.

Y/N smirks to herself. Men were too easy.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“What’s got you so smiley?”

Harry jumps slightly, redirecting his attention to his manager. “Whatdya mean?”

“Been smiling and strumming your guitar for ten minutes straight,” Jeff narrows his eyes at Harry. “Are you thinking of that girl again?”

“Y/N,” Harry corrects him immediately. “What are you gonna do if I am?”

“Tell you to snap out of it, man. She’s got you this distracted already and she doesn’t even know you have a crush on her?”

Harry wants to tell him that she does even though he’s not explicitly stated it, but then that would lead to a conversation that wasn’t his to have. So he changes the subject—slightly.

“What do think about me inviting Y/N to the studio? You’ll finally be able to put a face to the name,” Harry adds once he sees the look his manager gives him every time he’s about to tell him no. “I trust her. I jus’ want her opinion on a few things. I know she won’t leak anything.”

“I’m not sure if that’s your greatest idea…” Jeff trails off giving Harry one of his infamous looks of doubt.

“I wouldn’t even be suggesting this if I didn’t trust her with everything in me. ‘Ve never suggested this any other time, have I?”

Jeff gives Harry a pointed look, although he can’t argue with that.

“Fine, invite her. She’s signing papers though…”

Jeff’s voice is nothing more than background noise as he dials Y/N’s number, which he embarrassingly already knows by heart.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

When Harry comes out of the large, wooden double-doors to meet Y/N, he’s glowing. He’s a flash of dazzling gold and pink, his aura not being able to just land on one. Y/N is flattered that he still turns pink when he sees her, and relieved to see him so happy. So relaxed.

“So glad you could make it,” Harry tells Y/N, pulling her in for a tight hug. “My manager had a fit when I told him you were comin’, he’s jus’ very protective of me and my music. Don’t take it personally.”

“I understand,” Y/N tells him honestly. “I don’t blame your manager for not being too keen on me crashing in on one of your sessions. I could leave my phone in the car if that would make you both feel better?”

Y/N made things so easy. She was perfect in Harry’s eyes.

“I trust you completely. It might make my manager feel a bit better though…” Harry trails off, feeling sheepish. Y/N nods and unlocks her car without saying anything, retrieving her phone from her purse and hiding it away in her glove compartment.

“There. Just me and my ears now.” She lets out the sweetest giggle Harry’s ever heard, and he swears he could melt.

“Follow me, then.”

Harry makes his way back inside the studio but feels weird with Y/N trailing so closely behind him, not speaking or physically touching him. He stops and turns to face her, reluctantly reaching his hand out for her to grab. She looks at him for a moment, analyzing his energy before shakily intertwining her finger with his. Harry glows pink—so much so that he was nearly shining red. Y/N was having a difficult time differentiating between the glow of his aura and the glow of his cheeks.

He continues walking down the hall, now feeling like he was on top of the world because he had the most beautiful girl in the universe’s hand in his. Harry was ready to get to work. She was his new biggest inspiration.

Y/N’s having the greatest time watching Harry’s colors. He’s so happy and full of love! The fact that Harry was in such good spirits possibly because of Y/N made her feel like she was floating on a cloud.

Harry feels Y/N’s hesitation to enter the room that now holds not only Jeff but Mitch as well. She pulls back slightly on his hand, hiding timidly behind his broad shoulders. “What’s wrong?” He asks quietly, turning to face her.

“I don’t think they’re happy to see me…” Y/N trails off.

“How do you know?” Harry asks habitually before he realizes who he’s talking to. He knows how she knows. He internally cringes at his question.

“They’re both red,” she shifts from foot to foot. “I can leave. I don’t want to cause any problems—”

“No!” Harry says a bit too loudly. Jeff and Mitch turn to look in their direction, finally aware of their presence. Harry blushes, speaking a bit more quietly. “Sorry. Jus’... don’t leave. I promise they’re not mad that you’re here. They’re just a bit nervous because you’re new and they’ve never met you before. I’ll tell ‘em you left your phone in the car though and it’ll all be good. Yeah?”

Y/N nods, not completely certain Harry could get these men to warm up to her just because he said so. He tilts her chin up so she’s looking in his eyes, and he gives her a warm smile.

“Hey… what color am I?”

Y/N swallows thickly before answering. “You’re yellow… and pink.”

“See? ‘M not red. It’s all good, darling. Believe me when I say that.”

Y/N’s heart beats faster at the pet name and she just hopes Harry can’t hear it. She gives him a forced smile before grabbing his hand again and following him inside of the small room.

“Jeff, Mitch,” Harry starts, swinging Y/N’s hand in his. “This is Y/N.”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Jeff says. Harry shoots him a look, silently pleading him to not say anything that’ll embarrass him. Luckily for Harry, Jeff catches onto this and keeps his introduction simple. “I’m Jeff, Harry’s manager.”

“Hi,” Y/N responds. Harry’s heart-strings feel like they’re being tugged at when he hears how quiet Y/N has become. “I left my phone in the car.” Jeff shoots Harry a surprised looked to which Harry gives a small nod in confirmation. Jeff hums, satisfied.

“We’re glad you could join us. I’m not sure if you have any experience in music, but it’ll be nice to get a fresh opinion on some things.”

Mitch gives Y/N a small nod and a smile, and Harry feels her grip on his hand tighten. “Don’t worry. Mitch is just shy.” Harry quietly reassures her. She loosens her grip on his hand slightly, feeling a bit more at ease.

“Where should I sit?”

“Y’can sit on that couch over there. Can I get you anything to drink? Have you ate, I can order food if you haven’t?”

Harry and Y/N are in their own world, only focused on each other. This doesn’t go unnoticed to Jeff or Mitch, and they share knowing looks behind the pair’s backs.

“What do you guys want to eat? Y/N hasn’t eaten yet,” Harry says, already searching for his text thread with his assistant. “Sushi? Mexican?”

“Whatever Y/N wants,” Mitch says, strumming a few random chords on his guitar. “Anything’s fine with me.”

Harry’s satisfied with this answer, just wanting to give all his attention back to Y/N. “Whatdya want to eat, love?”

“Do you all like veggie pizza?”

“Eh–”

Harry shoots Jeff a look that tells him not to disagree with her, so Jeff looks down and acts preoccupied with his phone. “That sounds really good, Y/N. I’ll order that.”

Harry actually hated veggie pizza. He hoped Y/N couldn’t tell.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

”I just miss your accent and your friends…”

Harry was blue and Y/N hated it.

She knew he was pulling from old memories for his songs, but she hated when he was upset. Y/N was in a trance, though. Harry’s voice was beautiful. His songs pulled her in like magic. They were captivating, and so, so beautiful.

Y/N was enjoying being in the recording studio. She never had any experience like it, and it was interesting to see all the hard work that went into making just one song.

”Don’t you call him “baby”, we’re not talking lately,” Harry sings into his microphone sadly, licking his lips during the pause. “Don’t you call him what you used to call me…”

Y/N just wanted to go into the recording booth and hug Harry, take his pain away. She knew now wasn’t the time nor place for that, though. She’d check on him later.

“That’s good,” Jeff says, giving Harry a thumbs up. Harry gives him one back and takes his clunky earphones off, setting them beside his feet.

“How was that?” Harry asks Y/N as soon as he’s out of the recording booth. The musician in him knew it wasn’t bad, but he still wanted her praise.

“Very beautiful! Are you okay?” She gives Harry one of those knowing looks he’s growing to love. He shrugs, leaning down to speak quietly to her.

“Singin’ about someone who used to be very special to me,” he says, glancing down at his Vans-clad feet. “I’m okay, though. Don’t worry about me.”

Y/N wanted to tell Harry she always worried about him. She wanted to scream it in his face so he understood how much she cared for his well-being. She does neither of the two. “Okay, Harry. I’m just checking.”

Harry loved that she was “just checking”. He wanted to tell Y/N that he never wanted her to stop caring for him, as he would never stop caring for her. He does neither of the two. “Thank you for checking, Y/N.”

Unbeknownst to them, they were both falling deeper for each other.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“Y/N, are we gonna watch our movie tonight, or are you busy?” Y/N’s roommate, Amalia, peaks her head into her bedroom. Y/N was busy hanging upside down on her bed. Texting Harry.

“What? Oh, is it Friday? Let me just take off my makeup... “ Y/N locks her phone and slowly sits up, taking care not to smush her sleeping kitty who was currently snoring beside her.

“Who were you texting? You’ve been on your phone a lot more than usual lately,” Amalia notes, coming completely into Y/N’s room. “A boy?”

Y/N feels her body heat up at her roommate’s observation. “Maybe…”

“Y/N! You’ve gotta tell me! Who is he, is he cute?” Her roommate makes herself comfortable on Y/N’s bed, folding her legs beneath her. Sapphire startles slightly but quickly falls back asleep, curling her tail closer to her.

“You might know him,” Y/N begins. She and Harry never had a conversation about telling others about their association with others. She trusted her roommate, but she wasn’t sure if he would appreciate it. She decides she’ll just call him. “I’ll actually just call him. Hopefully, he’s not busy.”

Amalia finds it odd that Y/N would rather call this man than just tell her about him, but she says nothing, of course. She was used to her roommate’s behavior. She was different, and that’s why she loved her so much!

“Can you FaceTime him? I wanna see what he looks like,” Amalia claps her hands together out of excitement, feeling anticipation bubble in her stomach. She was hoping her roommate finally found someone for her so they could join her and her boyfriend on double dates and couples game nights.

“FaceTime him?” Y/N had never done that before. She and Harry always just spoke on the phone, and lately, they had gotten into texting. She hoped he wouldn’t mind. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Y/N pulls up the app on her phone and types in Harry’s contact name (which was ‘Harry’ with three pink hearts, which she would never tell him!) and bites her lip as she waits for him to answer. As an afterthought, she reaches for her earphones and connects them to her phone just in case her roommate recognizes his voice. After all, everyone on the planet knew who Harry was except for Y/N. He answers almost immediately, a dimpled smile on his face and a beautiful pink light surrounding him.

“Was jus’ thinking of you. Are we in sync? I swear I was about to call you,” Harry tells her, not being able to stop his toothy grin. “Is everything okay?”

“Well,” Y/N feels nervous. His gaze is still as intense and attentive, even though a phone screen. “I’m just hanging out with my roommate and she noticed I’ve been smiling at my phone a lot—”

“A very observant roommate.”

“Yeah, and she wanted to know if I was texting a boy. I didn’t know if it was okay to say anything but she’s beside me so do you want to say hi? It’s okay if you don’t want to, and I’m sorry if you’re busy right now…”

Harry’s gaze visibly softens. “Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

“You know why.”

Harry hums. “I’d love to meet your roommate. Go ahead and give her the phone.”

Y/N examines Harry for a moment, trying to determine if he’s telling the truth. His aura is slightly tinged red but it’s mainly yellow, making him glow the color of a sunset. He was probably a bit anxious, but he was happy. That was most important to Y/N. Amalia is sitting at the end of Y/N’s bed quietly, scratching Sapphire’s head while she waits. She watches as Y/N unplugs her earphones from her phone and wordlessly hands it to her.

Amalia’s mouth drops.

“Hi, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m Harry.”

Amalia’s entire body feels tingly.

“H- hi. Uh, I’m Amalia. Y/N’s roommate,” she looks up at Y/N, eyes wide. “It’s… wow. I’m sorry, I kinda don’t know what to say right now. I’m such a big fan of yours!”

Y/N hears Harry’s beautiful laugh and she smiles. It was his shy laugh. He was flattered. Maybe a bit flustered.

“That’s very, very nice of you. Thank you for the support.”

“Are you and Y/N dating? I can’t believe she didn’t tell me!” Amalia gives Y/N an accusatory scowl and she feels her body heat up at her roommate’s words.

“Not at the moment, but I’m working on it,” Harry tells her. Y/N doesn’t need to see him to know he’s pink. “I think she was jus’ tryin’ to protect my privacy. Which I appreciate, of course. But a friend of Y/N is a friend of mine! She has good judgment.”

Y/N can’t believe Harry’s “working on it”. He cares for her much more than she had initially thought, and Y/N just hopes he knows how much she cares for him as well. Even if she doesn’t say it.

“I’m gonna give the phone back to Y/N before I say something to embarrass myself, but it was really nice to meet you!” Amalia shakily hands the phone back to Y/N as Harry is telling her it was nice to meet her too.

Y/N is happy to see his face again. He immediately turns pink once he sees her again, a light blush tinging his cheeks. “She’s very nice. We should all go out to brunch one afternoon, how’s that sound?” Y/N nods, glancing at her roommate who currently looked like she was on the verge of fainting, bright pink just as Harry was. She was infatuated.

“Amalia’s amazing,” Y/N replies. “I was just calling to say hi, but I’m glad to see you’re doing good. I’ll talk to you later?” A deep indigo color slowly surrounds Harry at the prospect of Y/N ending the call, making Y/N frown. “I’ll see you tomorrow? Friday’s are our movie nights…”

“Oh!” Harry turns yellow again. “I didn’t mean to keep you from that. I’d like that, though. Lunch tomorrow?”

“And the studio?” Y/N asks, used to their routine. Harry shakes his head.

“Was thinking we do something else. Get out of there for the afternoon? ‘M sure you get bored jus’ watchin’ me sing all day. The last thing I want is for you to be bored.”

Y/N nearly laughed out loud. She was never bored when she was with Harry. She could simply sit and watch the grass grow with him, and she’d still be thoroughly entertained.

“I don’t want you to fall behind because of me.”

“S’my album. I can take a day off, darling. Hey–– can ya look at me?” Y/N knows Harry is asking her to examine what color he is. She nods after a moment.

“Okay, Harry. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow,” she takes a thoughtful pause as she usually does. “Have a good night.”

“I’ll be counting down the minutes. You too, Y/N.” The call disconnects. Y/N feels her heart about to beat out of her chest. Counting down the minutes.

She was counting down the minutes, too.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Harry was nervous to see Y/N. He hadn’t been alone with her since the day at his house when she came over to keep him company while he was sick. Their relationship was progressing quicker than anticipated, but neither of the two had any complaints.

Per Harry’s request (or, after a ton of his begging) Y/N agreed to let Harry pick her up instead of driving separately and meeting up like they usually do. He was excited to finally know where Y/N lived. When he thought of any space Y/N cultivated, he imagined it to be a bit cluttered. Lots of paintings on the walls. Perhaps some personal photographs of friends and family.

When Harry approaches Y/N’s apartment complex, he isn’t surprised to see that she lives in one of the oldest-looking buildings he’s ever seen. He was sure that when he asked her about it later, she would tell him that old buildings had the most character or something along those lines. Harry parks in record time, albeit like a bit of an asshole, and grabs the bouquet of flowers he picked up on his way to her before hurrying out of his car. His sunglasses immediately go on and his beanie gets pulled low over his forehead in the off chance there was someone who could recognize him anywhere nearby.

“Four, eight, two, five,” Harry mutters Y/N’s gate code under his breath as he approaches it. “Four, eight, two, five…” He’s delighted when it works. Against Y/N’s wishes, he didn’t write it down when she told him, adamant about having the best memory in the world. He was glad he didn’t forget it and have to call her and ask for it again.

Harry has no difficulty at all finding her apartment. Just as she said, there were several potted plants surrounding the door and a plaque that read, ‘Welcome to our home!’. He smiled to himself. It was just so Y/N. He firmly knocks and takes a step back, tightly gripping the bouquet in his hands. The door flies open moments later and Harry is met with Y/N’s beautiful face. His nerves immediately dissipate.

“Hi, Harry–– oh! Those are beautiful!” She opens the door a bit wider. “Please, come in!”

Harry’s happy. She seems happy. Of course, he couldn’t know for sure in the way that he could, but Harry was quickly learning her mannerisms.

“Hi, darlin’. S’nice to see you,” he leans down to place a delicate kiss on her cheek. “You’re lookin’ as beautiful as ever.”

“I haven’t even gotten changed yet,” she replies dismissively, shutting the door. “I completely lost track of time. I was helping Amalia get ready for a date that she’s going on and it made me forget all about ours.”

Harry could die a happy man right now. Y/N just referred to their spending time together as a date!

“No apologizing,” Harry says sternly, handing the flowers to Y/N. “‘M not upset about it, am I? We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Y/N looks down shyly at the shabby rug beneath her feet. “Do you wanna help me pick out an outfit? I’m not too sure about what I should wear… I really think it would help if you actually told me where we were going.”

“Nice try,” Harry chuckles, following her through the apartment. It looked just as he pictured it would. “Already told you it’s a surprise.”

“I thought I would try again.”

Y/N’s room was incredible. There were plants everywhere even more than the ones surrounding her front door. Some were even hanging from the ceiling! Her walls were a pale yellow color. She had glow-in-the-dark stars and planets stuck to her ceiling, a ginormous rug that covered probably half of her wooden floor, and paintings taped haphazardly to the wall. It looked like she made them herself, too. They were lovely.

“Your room is amazing,” Harry tells her, flopping onto her bed while she digs around in her closet. Even though he had never been there before, he immediately feels comfortable. At home. “Where’s Sapphire?”

“Oh, she’s around here somewhere,” Y/N’s voice sounds a bit muffled from being in her closet. “She might be hiding. She doesn’t like men.”

“Did you tell her that I’m nice?”

Y/N turns to look at him, two shirts in her hand. “I can’t force her to like you, Harry. What do you think about these shirts?”

“I think you would look good in all of them,” Harry feels his heart rate pick up under her gaze. “You may get cold if you wear something sleeveless, though.”

Y/N says nothing in response, just stares at him. To anyone else, her staring may be weird, but Harry knew what she was doing. He stares back at her just as intensely, raising an eyebrow. Finally, she nods, turning her attention back to her closet.

“Should I wear something with long sleeves?”

Harry hums in response to her question. “I think that would be a good idea.”

Y/N turns to face him again, tugging at her oversized sleep shirt. “Do you think you can take down some shirts on the shelf for me? I don’t feel like going to get a chair all the way from the kitchen…”

“Of course I can,” Harry immediately gets up from his lying position on Y/N’s bed. “Which ones?”

“The ones in that corner,” Y/N replies, standing beside Harry. He never noticed how much shorter she was than him until she was asking him to reach things off the top-shelf for her. Harry loved it.

He reaches up with ease, grabbing a stack of neatly folded long-sleeves. In the process of pulling them down, a box comes falling off the shelf, hitting the floor with a loud clang! and the sound of broken glass. “Shit,” Harry mutters, bending down to reach for the box. “Sorry about tha’, pet–”

“Don’t touch that!” Y/N exclaims, pushing past Harry to grab the box before he does. Harry backs up, putting his hands up in the air like he was a criminal who’d just been caught.

“I didn’t touch it, I promise,” Harry quickly reassures her. “Why can’t I touch it? What is that?”

“Remember how I was telling you about bad energy?” Her voice drops to a whisper. Harry nods. “This is where I store everyone's bad energy whenever I get stuck with it. They’re in little viles, you know what I mean? Those little tubes?”

“Yeah.”

“I think the tubes broke when it fell… I can never open this box again because then the bad energy will get out and go back to their owner's body.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, trying to take in what Y/N just told him. It wasn’t the oddest thing he’s heard since he met her. “Is any of my bad energy in there?”

“Yes. Remember when we were at the Greek food place?”

Harry smiles at the memory. “How could I forget? I think that was the day that I knew I had to get to know ya. I was properly obsessed with the idea of runnin’ into you again for days.” Y/N looks away as she usually does when he gets her flustered but this time Harry moves closer to her, snaking his arms around her waist.

“Thank you for always makin’ sure ‘m happy, love,” Harry’s lips are dangerously close to hers, so close that she can smell the scent of mint on his breath. “You don’t even have to touch me to make me happy. Jus’ bein’ near you is enough.” Y/N lets out a shaky breath, not trusting her voice enough to do anything other than nod. Both of their hearts are about to beat out of their chests.

“I’d do anything to make you happy, Harry,” Y/N finally says, staring directly into his eyes. “You deserve all the happiness this life has to offer you.”

“Likewise,” Harry says, feeling intoxicated from standing so close to her. “Y/N, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Y/N gives Harry the biggest smile before standing on her tiptoes, smushing her lips against Harry’s. His eyes shut as he melts into the kiss, having to remind himself to stop smiling so he can properly kiss her back. Her lips are soft, and she tastes just as sweet as she actually is. His entire body tingles and his chest burns due to lack of oxygen, but he was determined not to break the kiss first. His stomach twisted from all the butterflies he had, but it was a feeling no one had made him feel in a long, long time.

Y/N’s the first one to break the kiss. She giggles as she rests her head against Harry’s chest, gasping slightly for air. “You’re a very good kisser.”

“You too.” Harry’s breathless. He doesn’t want to pull away from her so he settles on intaking short bursts of air.

“I’m gonna get changed before I decide to stand here and just kiss you all day,” Y/N tells him, finally breaking their contact. “Can you wait in the living room?”

“I wouldn’t hate that,” Harry says as he places a quick peck on her lips. “‘M gonna go put your flowers in something so they don’t die. Y’think Sapphire will come out of hiding and let me pet her since her mommy finally let me kiss her?”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“I thought we were getting lunch?”

Y/N had been sat in Harry’s passenger seat for slightly over an hour now, his hand hardly leaving hers the entire time. He was yellow for the most part (except when Y/N would speak he turned pink). Song after song played lowly over the stereo, but it was mainly just background noise–– neither one of them was really listening to it.

“We are.”

“Why are we driving so far?”

“I wanna take you to a really nice spot. Is that okay?”

“Are we almost there?” She stares intensely at Harry and she knows he can feel her eyes on him. He flashes red for a moment causing Y/N to cock her head in confusion. “Why are you nervous?”

“I don’t want you to think our date is boring.”

“Why would I think it’s boring?”

“Have you ever been to Balboa Park? San Diego?” Harry tears his eyes from the road briefly to look at her and he’s relieved to see a look of excitement in her eyes.

“I’ve never been but from the pictures I’ve seen it looks sooo beautiful! Are we going there?” Her grip on his hand tightens slightly.

“Mhm,” Y/N sees Harry visibly relax. “Figure we could grab a bite after? Or before, depending on how hungry you are.”

“We should eat before! Are we allowed to eat in the park? We should have a picnic–– can we do that?” Y/N is talking a mile a minute, too excited to slow down. She turns in the passenger seat to face Harry fully, hand still in his. “We’re going to the gardens, right?”

“We’re doin’ whatever you want, love. I have some things planned that I think you would like but nothing’s set in stone.”

Y/N loves the fact that Harry took it upon himself to plan out their day. She decides she would go along with whatever he had planned, seeing as he’s been there before and she hasn’t.

They arrive at the park approximately thirty minutes later and Y/N quickly unbuckles her seatbelt and lets herself out of the car before Harry can open the door for her himself. He laughs to himself at her excitement.

“Where are we going first?” Y/N reaches for Harry’s hand seemingly out of habit, not thinking twice before doing so. If she wasn’t busy looking around in awe, she’d see Harry looking down at their interlocked fingers with a big smile on his face.

“How ‘bout we get you something to eat first then go find a spot to have a lil’ picnic? The last time I was here I remember seein’ people eating under this ginormous tree–”

“Okay!” Y/N agrees cheerily, dragging Harry through the parking lot. She was leading the way even though she had no clue where she was going. “Wait, where are we going?”

“How about I lead the way?” Harry is a mixture of green and yellow. He was happy and enjoying the prospect of a nature-filled day.

“Harry, what’s your favorite part about nature?”

“What’s tha’?”

“I see that you like nature, so I just wanted to know what you liked the most about it,” Y/N replies, swinging their hands.

“It’s calming. I think ‘ve written some of my best songs surrounded by trees and water and things like that. What do you like the most about nature?”

“It’s beautiful. Plants help us and we help them.”

Harry smiles in response to her answer but says nothing, walking her the rest of the way through the parking lot and to the entrance of the park. Once inside they set out on finding something to quickly fill their stomachs with, not wanting to waste too much time eating.

“How do sandwiches sound?” Harry asks, nodding his head in the direction of a sandwich shop. “Quick and easy, isn’t it?”

“Can we still eat them under the fig tree?”

“Whatever you’d like, darling. S’your world, ‘m just livin’ in it.”

Even though he lets out a chuckle after saying that, Y/N knew he was being completely serious.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Harry could listen to Y/N talk all day. He never wanted to stop hearing her sweet voice. Y/N’s attention was fixated on the beautiful, blooming gardens–– but Harry was only fixated on her.

She pointed out nearly everything they saw, impressing Harry with her knowledge on plant names and pointless information on how to care for them. She asked Harry to stand in front of all her favorite plants so she could take a picture of him to “commemorate the day” and Harry was more than willing to do so. Anything to keep a smile on her face. Y/N had grown tired of carrying her purse over her shoulder about an hour back and Harry even offered to wear it for her so she wouldn’t have a sore shoulder the next morning.

They decided to call it quits once the sun started setting, walking hand in hand quietly back to Harry’s car. He opens the door for her and checks to make sure she’s all the way in before slamming it shut and walking around to his side. He immediately reaches for her hand again, loving the way it felt in his way too much to not hold it at all times.

“Did you have a good time today?” Harry asks, looking at Y/N’s face in the dim light. She nods sheepishly, looking down at the hands.

“I had an amazing time. I can’t believe you drove all the way out here just for me,” she traces her fingers over one of Harry’s rings. “Thank you for today.”

“How many times have I gotta tell ya I’d do anything for you?” Harry questions, leaning over the center console to be closer to her. “Loved seein’ that beautiful smile on your face today. Made me happy.”

“You’re just saying that…”

“Oh, come off it,” Harry jokes, kissing her cheek before leaning back over to start his car. “Know you saw how happy I was the whole day. S’all because of you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry sees Y/N lean over as he previously was so her face is close to his. She gently places the hand that was holding Harry’s on his face and turns his head so he’s fully facing her, licking her lips before she connects them with his. Harry melts into the kiss as he did earlier, feeling as if time stopped when their lips were pressed together. It was the most gentle, loving kiss Harry ever shared with another person.

He could get used to this.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

please let me know what you thought!

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #aura #thanks for reading!

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rumblelibrary · 3 years

Note

Now that you are writing requests, I think it's only fair I send you a few after some of the ones you have sent me 😌 as you've said you were the original anon who requested Laszlo x Sapiosexual partner headcanons from me, I'm curious to see how you would write it. Take it in any direction you want to 😘

Thinking Alike [Dr Laszlo Kreizler x Reader]

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Mention of physical violence, mild stalking, smut (yup, there it is!)

Author’s note: My first smut, something easy breezy to begin with. Laszlo is an awkward mess and I love him.

It was embarrassing for Laszlo at first, to admit a weakness, so bluntly. Such a vile thing to do for a man like him.He tried reasoning through it more and more, lonely men went often to prostitutes, John himself did and with the extraordinary result not be devoured by syphilis or other diseases.He didn’t hurt himself nor others in the process.

The first time he met you it was by accident, he was invited by one of his former patients to visit her at her university, nothing unusual, he remembered her well: Julia, shy, small, bent down and backwards by a family that abused her very being, that abused her mind, development and growth.But to see her now a young woman, studying literature at university, thriving in her life and taking her own choices, she even started an internship with Sara, that was something that made a man like Laszlo proud of his job.

Briefly: that day was a success for him: from the meeting to the lunch they shared, she showed in every given moment how she treasured everything she learned at the Institute and, even though hard times were not over, she felt like she was able to face them.Then Julia asked him to join her to listen to a lecture, assuring he would love it so he obliged as it wouldn’t be too bad to feel like a student again and maybe spark some new interest in him.So he did, he sat down and leaned his back on the seat, the soft scent of the woody desks and chairs taking over his nostrils. He remembered how he was at that age, hungry, unnecessary aggressive and lonely. He smiled to himself at the memory.Poor John, still there to look after him and trying to give him a minimum of social skills.

Then the room fell into silence as you walked inside, your choice of clothing a white shirt and a burgundy skirt, a pocket watch on your side. A simple style, you wish good morning to the class and don’t indulge too much into talk.And there is where the unexpected happened.You open up simply, a picture, a quote. The description of man as William Blake: poet, engraver, prophet.To transcribe your words would be similar to the conflict of any man that ever found himself in the duty of writing, or better, transcribing a sacred text.The way you spoke, the way you held everybody’s attention, the way you moved back and forth or wrote on the chalkboard. The passion surging by your words digging into his flesh and bones, every cell into his body surging into an agonising desire to hear more. The way your words balanced, how you managed to go from interesting facts to more detailed ones, from hard critical informations to conceptual ideas.That was the beginning of something new, his brain wasn’t able to move past the thought of you. Literature wasn’t his field, but he felt like you were the spring of all truths. So it begun. He brought the books, he came to the lessons. He thrived in every stolen moment he got with you, he sulked when somebody caught your attention, even more if it was to make some silly comment or question, he adored the way your hands traced shapes into the air symmetrically, it triggered him to wonder if you ever studied dancing, the pose of your fingers always so balanced. He learned every micro habit you had: the way you always looked at your pocket watch when it was almost half time throughout the lesson, how you changed pin in your hair every day, the way you tucked your reading glasses in your shirt only to then look for those when in need to read. His favourite moments were the ones when everybody was leaving the class and he could see you relax on the chair, gift little smiles around as you collected our belongings. Your presence was by now his safe place, those two hours he spent a the university were the only moments he felt free, even if unseen.

Until the day he was getting into the class to find it empty and you alone there.“Regular students got a card saying the lesson today was cancelled” you said and his heart sunk into his chest “I would be mad to have someone sneaking in my classroom, but I had the feeling to have seen you before”

He gulped down as you were so close by now, he could guess your favourite perfume.You handed him a book, his book with his picture inside followed by his name in cursive letters.

“What does an alienist says about my course?”

“I say, your dialectic is what many of my patients would need in order to survive”You were surprised, eyebrows raising and a slight tilt of the head, you expected to find him guilty and ashamed, surely he was, but that answer was bold.

“And you? Do you find solace in my dialectics?” He took a moment before staring up at you, you didn’t realised how tall he was by seeing him always sat in the back, but you noticed him at every lesson. How couldn’t you?An handsome, elegant grown man hiding among those twenty something, the walking stick giving away always his calculated late entrance in class, his eyes always on you digging holes.

“Constantly”His answer surprised you, you expected to confront him and send him away and now you’re torn between the feeling of cradling him in your arms and, what? “I could forgive you for a lunch” He smiles, his eyes shining “I know the perfect place”

That lunch became one of many lunches.Every time you had lesson he would wait for you and you’d share a meal.To open up to him felt almost too easy, but he was an alienist, that was his job. He also opened up with you, you shared books, and interests and long chats. He wrote you cards and you wrote back to him, he sent you his articles and you sent him yours. He asked for books to introduce children to literature and you visited the Institute helping him in the task in exchange of some entry level books about psychology. Lunches became dinners, long walks became longer, soft smiles became him offering you his arm to walk together. You were starting to develop some tenderness for him, you always wondered what he was thinking and what he would opinion over this or that, you craved to confront your opinions and Laszlo wasn’t feeling any less drawn to it.It was beginning to become difficult when you started to visit him in his dreams, he would dream of you in ways he didn’t dare to speak up about. Only the way you talked when you grew passionate about something gave him a sense of tension, a deep desire going through him as he touched his thigh with his sweaty palm to ground himself. You felt like he was growing distant, unaware of how he was growing somehow closer. Closer to the point he couldn’t resist you anymore, hide behind simple touches of courtesy, to feel your hand only when gloved, stare at every little stand of hair move unruly on your neck while you spoke so highly of any topic. It was unexpected the time, while sharing some impressions on a recent article, he put his hand flat over the page and leaned in capturing your lips in a sudden but awaited kiss. You kissed him back realising how such a simple gesture meant so much to you. Your hand followed up resting on top of his still hiding the page from you. His lips soft, his beard tickling you lightly as your eyes shone.When he pulled back, only because in need to breathe not else, he looked at you but you smiled at him brushing your nose lightly against his making him break into a smile. The happiest smile.

“Do you even realise how foolish is that?”

“Are you calling me a fool?” He growled at you. Yes, he followed a potential murderer across the city, got himself beat up, but he was alive and now he got more informations.

“I dare to say I am, loud and clear Laszlo”He frowned deeply, you calling him a fool?

“Take it back”

“No” “I said” he grunted as he breathed heavily through his nostrils “Take it back” You never saw him this mad but you didn’t oblige his request, he made you sick worry and hid all this madness of crime cases from you through all this time, not even once he mentioned this …what? A hobby? Desire for adrenaline? “A man that doesn’t stand up to his own truths is a fool to me” you said coldly “all this time spent to talk about nonsense and you’re working on solving crimes? Who is the man that I know then? Does he exists only when Dr Kreizler is without a case? There’s even a real interest in what you ever said to me? Or you just needed a distraction?”

“Don’t you dare to contradict me, I am no liar”You smirked, by now he was close, almost threatening even if you know well he wouldn’t ever hurt you. “Then what are you?” He froze, his eyebrows furrowed, what should he tell you? That he loved the way your brain worked? That every time you bounced ideas back and forth he felt aroused? That you provoked in him a thirst for more, more knowledge, more passion, more life. You let out a breathy chuckle as he didn’t answer now, you were sad and disappointed. You indeed believed you had found your match and not another double faced man.You picked your coat and left his office even if your heart was shattering on the inside and begging you not to leave like that.You spent two weeks apart, two weeks in which his spot in the classroom was empty, both of you ate alone, walked alone, lived alone. An emptiness that was so heavy it felt like the sky would break under the weight of it. But he couldn’t think of you, the case was on, the victims were falling one after the other, and yet he couldn’t think clearly. Before just thinking of how you’d think helped him, but what about now? He couldn’t reach for you. You were right, he hid part of himself to you and he couldn’t ask you to risk your life or spend nights and days exploring the dark sides of human nature, even though your sensibilities and introspection would have made you the most valuable asset in any research. He locked himself in his office getting high on tea and pacing the room back and forth talking out loud trying to gain back the process you two formed together, the chemistry, the balance of thoughts. Until your voice reached to him. “What if it is not anger the motif?”You leaned against the doorframe staring at him, you gave up your anger. You were there for him. He stared at you like he wondered if you’re even real. “How did you come in?” “I said I was from Miss Howard” “So you can also lie” You chuckled “Only for a good purpose” You moved inside closing the door behind you as you took off your coat and hat, you moved closer to him offering him your hand, palm up.He stared at your eyes, there wasn’t much to add.He put the eraser in your hand as you cancelled the chalkboard from all his previous work. What happened next was pure magic, clarity spreading through the space, every fact double checked by the two of you as now the facts spread in order, clear, in a linear way, nothing was left to causality.You two closing each other’s sentences, you handing him books and him handing others back to you, papers, scattered pencils.Even you wearing his glasses by accident and handing those back as you reached for your own.It was a frenzy, a dance, a song. “So if this is a scheme…” you begin “…the killer will strike again on Friday” he concludes. You stare at him, a big smile creeps over your lips wide, you can save a life, it is only Monday now.He leans in holding onto your hadn’t with his left hand, but you’re just mimicking him as your lips collide. “How can you be like this? How can you be so perfect?” He groans against your lips not able to part from yours but to praise you. “We are” you correct him “we are perfect, together” he nodded slowly as you were completely right. He let you pull him on the sofa where he slept so many nights when he was too tired to go back home, a very cold and empty home. He took his time, he stood in front of you undoing those clothes he so carefully studied during your lessons almost to the point to know each item of your wardrobe. As you undressed him you realised how you never minded his arm or to help him undo his shirt, you found it poetic, you always found beauty in him, you saw it like a punishment due to something more special given to him.The poet Homer had to be blind in order to sing the war of Troy, Laszlo had to lose an arm to be able to see through others. So there you were, completely deprived of your clothing as he still conserved his bottom half, staring at each other’s eyes before he leaned his forehead against yours, shifting angle then to meet your lips with his. “Don’t, I waited enough” you whispered to him as his left hand between your legs to caress your folds with his fingers triggering a shiver down your spine. “I am the doctor here” he murmured as his fingers moved so smoothly over your slit gathering some wetness and spreading it together before pushing a finger inside you.

“I also am” you whispered back, voice shaking, even if a doctorate in literature doesn’t give you much of a position in this moment while standing helpless with him fingering you so nicely. “I know, it makes you even more beautiful” he assures to you digging his head in the crook of your neck nipping and sucking over your skin slowly adding another finger.You whined not able to move away from his fingers teasing your insides, and yet not what you were looking for. You pared your lips in a silent moan as he shook your hips making you grind slowly following his touch “I don’t want to play Laszlo” you begged “we have all the time to fool around, I missed you too much” “You can’t always use your words to boss me around like this” He smirked as he pulled his fingers slowly out of you, too slowly for your taste, he did it like you had all the time in this word, his fingers brushing over you inside, slowly slipping out covered in your wetness only to trace your clit with their tips.

He pulled back sitting down on the couch like a king on his throne, parted legs and back slightly slouched, while staring at your naked form in front of him moving his left hand to undo his pants as you approached. “You’re a vision”His whisper slowly pulling you in when you straddled him once his erection sprung free slowly guiding him to brush against your entrance. You looked up at him gulping softly before lowering yourself onto him. You stared at him as his eyes fluttered closer and you shook your hips a little trying to reach for the most comfortable position, he was thick stretching you deliciously and that little hint of pain only making it feel more complete, more needed, meant to be. A moan leaving your lips as you gasped for air, his weak right hand moving to rest on your thigh.You observed him as the desire was clouding your usual reasonable and efficient brain, his left hand grasping your hips when you begun moving on top of him. The pace erratic at first before the instinct kicked in, no more witty remarks needed here, you couldn’t make up your mind now.He groaned, his soft gasps and growls being the best sounds along with your moans, two reasonable intellectuals now lost into the simplest and most natural of the acts.Your hips yanked and lost control for a moment as his hand moved to touch your clit “So sensitive” he cooed, you were a mess of feelings, his head bowing down over your chest grasping your nipple between his lips. He teased and sucked, making all his fantasies real, finally touching and feeling you, your shivers due to him, your pleasure and pain completely in his hands.You gasped as he sucked too hard, he seemed to know you more than he knew himself and maybe it was true. He spent so much time watching you, studying you, indulging in every little reaction you had. His eyes dropped down between your joined bodies, he was mesmerised by the shapes your hips were tracing, just enjoying the view of himself sinking inside you filling you up completely, your wetness so evident making the whole process terrifically easy.

“You’re close” he sentenced “you’re so close” If you weren’t close you’d be after he said you were, like he decided it.His left hand leaving your clit as he wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you down over him. Now it was up to him as your mobility was restricted, he begun moving his hips up holding you down, he kept going so hard slamming inside you as he held you still with just that arm, the pleasure that his ruthless moves caused to you doing the rest. You couldn’t hold back any more, your moans getting lost into throaty sounds as your orgasm washed over you.

But he wasn’t done, he kept going as you rode down your orgasm until he tugged you down one last time filling your body, a little yelp of pleasure leaving your lips as you got so full of him and your eyes fluttered lightly because of such a raw basic feeling, that fullness that was proper of a basic instinct you felt rooted into you. If you were reasonable and aware you’d be worrying about things like consequences and having to talk about the future. But you weren’t any close to it.You rested against him gathering air back in your lungs as he moved his hand on your lower back slowly moving it up and down, his right hand’s thumb brushing over that same thigh in the smaller and sweetest gesture of attention. You shifted slightly after few moments to look at him slowly touching over his cheek with your fingertips. “Truth for the wise, beauty for the heart” He said, paraphrasing Friedrich Von Schiller, an author you used a lot in your lectures. “Truth for the wise, beauty for the heart” you repeated. That little motto became your code, the way you reminded each other the duality you were blessed with: your bright minds and your unfiltered passion. And you’d use it from time to time. You’d write it to each other’s notes. It was your “I love you” before the love word was even pronounced.

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