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luveline · 9 months

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So your drunk reader and Spencer fic? Maybe one with Hotch but reader has had something important going on and had called Hotch previously over it, but this was just a super sappy drunk call during an important case but Hotch can never not answer if he technically can talk for just a moment?

thank u for ur request! fem!reader

"I just can't understand how he can be two places at once," Derek says, infuriated.

Hotch has a thousand possibilities racing through his head. "He can't be," he says, "so we have to work out what else is happening."

"It's him," Emily says. "Same clothes, same face. And it can't be an evil twin–"

JJ groans, rubbing her eye with the heel of her hand and leaning forward into the conference table they're all sitting at. "I actually like the evil twin theory for this one."

Hotch's phone vibrates in his pocket. He needs to focus —he can't focus. You've been so heartbreakingly lonely while all of this has been happening, and he loves you, but they have three missing girls to find.

Time is ticking downward. He's never going to make any headway if he knows you need him on the other side of the phone.

"Just answer it," Rossi says quietly. "Reid's gonna crack it any second now. You have a duty to more than work, my friend."

Hotch catches it before it goes off. Standing, he buttons his suit jacket again and makes for the door. When it closes, he talks in a measured tone. "Honey," he says, "are you alright?"

"I'm okay," you say, immediate and bubbly.

You sound okay, he thinks. "Did you hear anything else from the doctor?"

"Aaron," you say, a number of emotions in your tone, but mostly love, "they don't call on Sundays, and they never call after six anyways."

"It's later for you," he remembers.

"I'm so sick of doctors and worrying and worrying about doctors, now I'm worrying about you, did you have to go? 'Cus I know you had to go, but I wish you could've just stayed home. I have this weird bruise I want you to look at–"

"Hold on. Nothing's wrong?"

"You're not here. That is so, so wrong." You hiccup. "Woah."

Hotch blinks to himself, a smile on his lips for the first time in days. "Sweetheart, have you been drinking?"

"Just what was left of the wine."

"You mean the one we got last week? That we haven't opened?"

"Yes." You sound serious. He can imagine your tipsy face, solemnly nodding with eyes wide open.

"Where are you? Still at my apartment?"

"Is that okay?"

Hotch closes his eyes. "That's perfect. I don't have to worry about you as long as I know where you are. You haven't taken any painkillers, of course."

"I'm not silly."

"That's up for debate. I… I'm glad you're in a good mood, it's good to relax, but no more wine, okay? You'll make yourself sick, and I won't be there to take care of you in the morning."

"Don't remind me!" Another hiccup. "I think I should've been a special agent, mister Hotchner, so I could come with you all these places and not have to miss you. I love you. I love your face and your hands and the way you always squeeze my hip in the morning when you wake me up." Your forlorn sigh is clear despite the distance. "Do you love me?"

"Very much, Y/N."

"I love you. I really didn't mean to drink so much but it actually tasted nicer the more I did."

"That's how it goes."

"I try to not be disgusting when we have wine together but you weren't here, 'n' I thought I could get sloshed without feeling bad."

"Why would you feel bad?" he asks, bemused.

"'Cus you'd have to take care of me, and you take care of everyone. All the time."

"I like taking care of people. I love taking care of you. You realise that I'd love to take care of you 'sloshed'?" he asks. He can be very honest here, knowing you probably won't remember the entirety of your conversation, but you'll recall how you felt. Well, if you don't get nauseous. "I love looking after you no matter what's wrong. I'm only sorry I can't do it as much as you deserve."

"You're sorry? That's dumb."

"Maybe it is."

"Definitely it is, Aaron. You're way too handsome to bother being sorry."

Maybe twenty years ago. "In that case, you can stop saying sorry to me altogether." Hotch pauses as a knock rattles the glass behind him. Derek stands on the other side, pointing at Spencer, whose lips are moving a hundred miles an hour. Their smartest member saves the day again. "Honey, I have to go. I'm sorry. I wish I could be with you, you know that? But I really have to go."

"This is impressive for us, actually, we had like four whole minutes. Bye, handsome, have a good time at camp."

He snorts. "Bye."

Hotch takes a split second to collect himself. Your hurting, your drunkenness, your open love for him and the obvious if slurred affection you speak with, he puts everything away and gets ready to do his job. If he does it well enough, he could be home in time to rub your forehead through the hangover.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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writingstoraes · 10 months

Text

wrong wolff 🗯

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!wolff!reader

type: instagram imagine, social media au

notes: i am once again in a slump! i keep starting works and not finishing them midway lol hope you guys like this! let me know what u think 🤍

about: amidst the talks of charles' contract renewal at ferrari, rumors associating him with Mercedes arises as he is apparently offered a seat by their very own team principal. turns out, the Mercedes boss' daughter also grew close with the driver in the middle of all negotiations.

ynwolff

liked by susiewolff, danielricciardo, pierregasly, and 1,223,991 others

ynwolff finally back at the paddock to not only watch races, but annoy my dad while i'm at it 🏎️

tagged: mercedesamgf1

mercedesamgf1 The princess of the paddock is finally back!

susiewolff Dad has already sent 4 texts messages about how he lost sight of you 🤣

ynwolff don't worry, i was just looking around :)

brocedes23 So beautiful in person! Able to ask for a picture on her way to the Ferrari garage! ❤️

charlosluv WOAHH she watched the race there? pierresgirl Toto Wolff's daughter watching a race at the Ferrari garage now that's interesting... hold on

ynwolff

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, mercedesamgf1, and 906,445 others

ynwolff met with some nice people today :) hey, scuderiaferrari, your drivers are actually not all bad (one is surprisingly funny) 🤯

mercedesamgf1 Ferrari, please bring our boss' daughter back in one piece!

scuderiaferrari You have our word 👌

gaslys10 ok so she was actually at the ferrari garage this is so amazing of her lol

lecs1655 it's nice to see her getting along with other drivers, not a lot of this seen in the paddock ❤️

lovermidnights I think she's good friends with some drivers, recently Charles, she's with Toto usually when they go out, along with Lewis

charles_leclerc Thanks, funny is my best trait :D

ynwolff sure, i was talking about you 😁 charles_leclerc Pretty snappy response from someone who can't stop laughing at my basketball joke ynwolff i was laughing at you, not because of you, there is a difference charles_leclerc Sure, whatever you say 🤷‍♀️

ferrariscud NOT Y/N AND CHARLES FLIRTING AT THE COMMENTS?? IN FRONT OF MY SALAD???

ynwolff

liked by susiewolff, charles_leclerc, mercedesamgf1, and 1,451,556 others

ynwolff photoshoots and whatnot 📸 had to include this helmet i looove so much (glad the photographer loved it, too)

mercedesamgf1 Wolff serving as always!

susiewolff My gorgeous daughter 💓

charles_leclerc I hope next time you play badminton as good as you look

ynwolff did you just call me pretty carlossainz55 LOL charles_leclerc No? I said you suck at badminton ferrarigirlie charles is so me when flirting

charles_leclerc recently added to his instagram story!

charles_leclerc

liked by ynwolff, susiewolff, mercedesamgf1, and 1,442,985 others

charles_leclerc I, in fact, signed a contract today: to take her out for as many ice cream dates as she wishes and watch a dozen of her favorite movies in one day.

tagged: ynwolff

ynwolff pleasure doing business with you, chuckles

charles_leclerc So you admit, I was the funny one

mercedesamgf1 Business-minded just like her dad 🫡

loveswolff THIS IS SO CUTE

ricciardochamp she is both a wag and the boss' daughter, unmatched

ynwolff

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, susiewolff, and 1,238,990 others

ynwolff loving him is definitely red ❤️

tagged: charles_leclerc

carlossainz55 Finally! Charles won't stop whining asking me when I think you're going to post him 🙄

charles_leclerc Whatever happened to teammate confidentiality carlossainz55 I like her more than you, she's nicer so

susiewolff Dad would like to clear some things: he did not just say all the nice things about Charles just because you're his girlfriend, in fact, in his own words, he knew him first

ynwolff my own father competing with me? charles_leclerc 😅😅😅

----------

tagging: @slytherheign

notes: this was quite lengthy i got carried away sorry lol anyway lmk what u guys think! currently working on wip's and requests hehehe also thinking of doing a permanent taglist, would anyone be interested in joining hehehehe

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vivwritesfics · 5 months

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poly fic idea with lando and max

max and reader have been dating for ages when lando joined f1 he befriended both of them. over time their friendship has many signs of a relationship. lando slowly starts falling for them but hides it cause he thinks he would destroy their relationship and that it isnt normal to be in love with two people. meanwhile max and reader have talked a lot about lando joining their relationship and actually planned a date to ask lando out

Y/N laid on the beach towel beside her boyfriend, the likes of Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris and Daniel Ricciardo with them.

Max was sat up while Y/N laid back with her sunglasses covering her shut eyes. He stared out at the ocean while Lando and Daniel chased each other through the water.

"How's it going?" Asked Charles as he came to sit beside them, his pose match Max's.

To most this would have been a normal greeting, but Max knew better. "So far, so meh," Max answered, digging his toes into the sand. "I don't think he really notices we're flirting with him."

Charles let out a scoff. "Sure he doesn't," he responded. "You two do realise he acts like he's dating the both of you?"

"Piss off, Charles," Y/N mumbled as she rolled over onto her back. But she didn't mean it, it was just a touchy subject.

Charles did piss off. With a laugh, he stood and ran into the water, splashing both Danny and Lando.

Lando left them to it. He walked over and sat in the sand beside Y/N. "Have you got suncream on your back?" He asked, already grabbing it from Y/Ns bag.

She let out a satisfied groan as Lando began rubbing the suncream into the skin of her back. "Can't have your burning," he said, his tongue between his teeth.

Y/N looked over at her boyfriend. Maybe Charles was right. Maybe he did act like their boyfriend.

Goddamn they needed to ask him out.

Their entire holiday was spent with the three of them acting like a couple. Lando didn't notice. It was completely unintential, but he just felt so comfortable around them. He couldn't help it! The others noticed, though. They noticed big time.

"Seriously, I don't know for how much longer I can hold out," Max said as Y/N scrolled through her social media.

She let out a sigh as she locked her phone. "I know, Maxie," she said as she ran her fingers through her hair. "Maybe we should ask him to dinner or something."

That was exactly what they did. Y/N and Max invited Lando out to dinner. And the clueless brit assumed it was nothing. Just a dinner with his friends.

He didn't think anything of it. Not when Max let him try some of his drink. Not when Y/N let him try a bit of pasta from her fork.

It took the couple until the end of the date to realise that Lando didn't realise it was a date. So, as they walked out of the restaurant, Y/N let out a sigh and pressed a kiss to Lando's cheek. "You didn't realise we were taking you on a date, did you?"

Lando's eyes went wide. "Date?" He squeaked. "This was a date?"

"Yes, Lan, this was a date," said Max as he placed his hand on Y/N's shoulder.

"Oh, I wish I had known that."

Lando really wished he had known that. If he knew this was a date he would have dressed a little nicer and would have tried to pay for their food.

"Let's try this again," he said, surprising the couple. "A proper date. We'll book out a restaurant or something, please!"

It was a good thing he was cute.

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warrioreowynofrohan · 1 year

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A few different people have been observing that Scrooge begins to change more quickly in the book than is often shown in adaptations. The Spirit of Christmas Yet To Come isn’t the one crucial factor breaking his obstinacy, but rather a final message to drive home a point that Scrooge had already become receptive to. I want to trace the shape of Scrooge’s progress over the course of the book and see what it reveals. (There will be some ‘spoilers’ here, since the story seems fairly universally known even among those who are reading the book for the first time.)

After Marley’s appearance, he is disturbed and discomfited, but still trying to hang onto denial and not face what he’s been told.

With Chistmas Past, adaptations often treat it like a psych session - see, you hate Christmas because you were so miserable during it. But in the book, that isn’t the point at all. Scrooge sees times when he was unhappy as a boy, but he also sees what comforted him during those times - reading and imagination, which his adult self would dismiss asfrivolous and unprofitable - and recaptures his joy in those things. He sees times when he was happy, like at Fezziwig’s Christmas party. And he sees how he’s become the kind of person who made his younger self unhappy rather than happy, and how easy it would to be otherwise.

He sees himself asan unhappy child, and wishes that he’d been kinder to the young boy singing carols at the door. He sees himself happily employed with a kind, generous and personable employer, who could create a vastly more pleasant workplace climate at trivial expense, and wishes he’d been nicer to Bob Cratchit.

And then he sees Belle, and is shown that his unhappiness is of his own making and the consequence of hus own choices. His being the selfish, avaricious person he is is not the consequence of Belle breaking up with him; it is the cause of it. She saw him already becoming that person, and chose not to follow him in that path. Her choices left her a happy, loving and loved woman; his left him unhappy and alone. Scrooge cannot bear this, and rejects and fights the spirit rather than face it.

But he has nonetheless already begun to change. Whereas he initially did not want to go with Christmas Past (“a night of unbroken sleep would be more conducive to [my welfare]”), he willingly goes with Christmas Present and expresses the desire to learn and benefit. He sees people in all manner of circumstances, good and bad, choosing to take joy in each other’s company and the comforts, small or great, around them. Many adaptations fail in this, focusing Scrooge’s attention on the idea that people dislike him (Mrs Cratchit; his nephew’s joke) but in the book Scrooge clearly greatly enjoys his nephew’s party, the nephew is being good-humoured and generous and expresses his goodwill towards Scrooge, and Scrooge doesn’t mind the joke at all. He sees the Cratchits making the best of what they have, and how he is making their lives harder than need be. He sees, in many ways and places, how he could be making others happy and being happy himself, rather than making evrryobe miserable, and it is an appealing picture. And Present calls him out, several times, on his past words and sentiments, and Scrooge repents them.

By the time he meets the Spirit of Christmas Yet To Come, he is already willing and prepared to change, and making deliberate plans to do so. The thing that I think is emphasized through the scenes with Yet To Come, as a driving home of the point, is that Scrooge’s actions up to this point have not only made him and others unhappy - they are an utter failure at getting Scrooge the one thing he had prioritized: wordly security, respect, and dignity. In Belle’s words, his turn to avarice in his youth was in hopes of avoiding the “sordid reproach” that the world has for poverty. He was fine, and even pleased, with being feared rather than loved - what he did not want was to be patronized, despized, looked down on.

And now he sees where that got him! His business partners don’t even care to attend his funeral. Men whose respect he hoped to have gained don’t even give him a second thought, and for the brief moment they do, think ill of him (“Old Scratch” is Victorian slang for the devil). His chambers and even his body are plundered (tomorrow’s reading is even more graphic about this, in some lines, than most adaptations). He’s buried in an obscure, untended, weedy churchyard, because no one cares enough about him to make other arrangements. He has none of the worldly respect, regard, dignity for which he turned to money as a protector. Past and Present showed that he was wanting the wrong things; but Future shows him that he wasn’t even achieving the things he thought he did want, amd was in fact achieving their opposite.

The point of Future, then, is not to convince Scrooge to change. He has already chosen that he desires to change. Future alone, without the earlier spirits, would be supremely ineffective; showing Scrooge that his servant and the people around him hate him, without first showing him that he can be happy and make other people happy, would only make him more of a misanthrope. This is not a “scare ‘em straight,” as some adaptations play it. The point of Future is as a final guard against backsliding, against regret: you are losing nothing by changing, because your current path is losing you even the paltry things you sought to gain by it.

Also, I hadn’t really registered this on previous reads, but this is the very near future - the Christmas one year after the period of the book. This is never stated outright, but Christmas Present says of Tiny Tim, “If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, none other of my race will find him here” - meaning, no future Christmas. And, in the visions with Christmas Future, Tiny Tim has died only a few days ago. In the words of Dante (paraphrased) “the time was perilously short for turning.” The Spirit of Christmas Yet To Come doesn’t teach the lesson - that’s the previous spirits - but he makes sure it sticks.

#dickens december #a christmas carol #charles dickens #scrooge

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riddlerosehearts · 4 months

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thinking about how people who watch the emperor's new groove and somehow come out of it shipping pacha and kuzco, or thinking yzma only became evil when kuzco fired her and that she would've been a better ruler than him, are both so wrong in so many different ways and are also missing one of the things that i absolutely love about the movie. which is that, the way i see it, pacha and yzma are counterparts. as parental figures to kuzco.

like, just to get this out of the way first, yzma was a dismissive asshole to a peasant whose family was starving. and yeah, if kuzco had been in her place he definitely would've also done that, which... is why she would not be a better ruler than him. she'd just be the same because they're both horrible people in the exact same ways. her reaction to being fired is to plot murder, and as soon as his funeral is over she sets everyone to work on replacing paintings of kuzco with paintings of herself and covering the palace with imagery that makes it clear that it's all about her now. i'm not even sure why this is a discussion tbh.

and also, kuzco is literally a teenager. he's barely 18 years old. source: in the movie, yzma says at his funeral that kuzco was "taken from us so tragically on the very eve of his eighteenth birthday." she also claims in the movie to have "practically raised" him, to which kronk replies "yeah, you'd think he would've turned out better". and sure, she could be exaggerating, but what evidence do we have that she is? we learn absolutely nothing of his parents, who are never mentioned even once in the movie, or of anyone else who could've raised him, and she's his advisor who for some reason sees no problem with attending to royal duties in his place. most likely because she's his regent. also, i'm not exactly a fan of the sequel tv series "the emperor's new school" but it does have something that backs up my point: kuzco is revealed to be an orphan and just before his father went and got lost at sea, he asked yzma (who was also his advisor) to take care of kuzco if anything happened to him. so, yeah, the writers who worked on the series clearly thought that yzma genuinely did raise kuzco, and nothing in the movie contradicts this.

and i find the idea of her being his only parental figure for pretty much his whole childhood incredibly interesting because, and this also goes back into why she wouldn't be a better ruler than him--she mirrors him as a reflection of what would've become of him if he'd never met pacha. they're both incredibly arrogant, power-hungry, selfish, and cruel, with a tendency to blame their problems on everyone but themselves. yzma was even originally going to have her own reprise of kuzco's theme song "perfect world", which i really wish had been kept:

[ID: Lyrics that read:

I'Il be the sovereign queen of the nation And the chicest chick in creation I'm the cat with all the cream and ooh-la-la This deadly concentration Will put an end to my frustration Now this perfect world begins and ends with moi

What's my name? Yzma, Yzma, Yzma Yzma (what's my name?) Yzma, Yzma (What'd you say?) Yzma (Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!) Yzma. End ID]

(this song can be fully heard in "the sweatbox", the documentary about the making of the movie, and is also on youtube btw)

anyway, i'm sure yzma would not exactly have been the most nurturing or hands-on guardian, especially given that she and kuzco don't exactly treat each other like family. but it makes a lot of sense to think that her behavior influened kuzco's throughout the years. and for the entire movie, she remains determined to kill him. when he tries to reason with her and admits that he should've been nicer, she says the same thing to him that he originally said when he fired her. she never grows or changes and in the end, she hurts the one person who was willing to stand by her (and even then, kronk had never fully been on board with her plan) and he ends up trying to crush her with a chandelier. kuzco on the other hand is able to realize the error of his ways, come to regret who he was in the past, and start taking steps toward being a better person. his theme song gets a reprise where it's changed from a song about one person being the center of the world to a Power Of Friendship song. why? because, as i've already mentioned, he has pacha.

pacha, who similarly to both yzma and kuzco is in a position of authority as the leader of the village but unlike either of them is gentle and humble. who isn't afraid to stand up to kuzco and be honest with him even though he's the emperor, who agrees to take him back to the palace but has no obligation to be so helpful, kind, and caring toward him--and just about every reason not to be--and still chooses to be anyway. pacha who is 45 years old (also stated in the sweatbox documentary) and can see that kuzco is practically still a kid, not a single day over 18, who has time to grow and change. pacha, who already has a wife and two kids with another on the way, but practically treats kuzco like one of his own. who acknowledges that if kuzco dies all his problems will be gone and then still worries about him and goes out of his way to rescue him after he wanders into the jungle. who sees kuzco shivering at night and covers him with his poncho, who carries him when he's genuinely too weak to keep walking, who refuses to give up on him even after repeatedly being betrayed by him because he believes there's good in everyone.

also, while yzma ends up repeating kuzco's harsh words of dismissal as she tells him of her plans to kill him, kuzco had previously repeated pacha's words that "nobody's that heartless" after he saved pacha's life. and as the movie progresses kuzco and pacha's relationship becomes more and more equal and is constantly contrasted by moments of yzma being cruel and unappreciative of kronk's kindness. a good example of this is how kronk is constantly being forced to carry yzma everywhere on his back while yzma literally walks all over him and steps on his hands when she gets down, whereas when pacha briefly carries kuzco after the latter collapses he tells him he'll have to walk the rest of the way later and kuzco doesn't even protest.

idk if i'm even explaining well what i'm trying to say here. but basically, if yzma actually raised kuzco and contributed to his current behavior, then she and pacha both are figures who guided him and helped him grow. only yzma helped him become the tyrant that he was at the start of the movie, who was selfish and callous and saw everyone else as beneath him. whereas pacha helped him see the value in being selfless and considerate of others. and in the end, yzma is stuck as a cat and nobody is concerned about her. kronk has found a new job that makes him genuinely happy, while kuzco has decided to build a hut on the hill next to pacha's and effectively joined his family. in the sweatbox documentary it's even mentioned that chicha and the kids were at risk of being removed from the film, but it was decided that they needed to be there because having just pacha as a single guy who lived alone wasn't interesting enough--kuzco needed to go from having basically an empty world where he had nobody to being able to come together with pacha's whole family. and i just think that's incredibly satisfying and beautiful. it also leads up to one of the few things i really do enjoy about the emperor's new school, which is the fact that during the show kuzco moves in with pacha and chicha and pretty explicitly thinks of them as basically his parents while he's like a son to them.

idk. i feel like my mind went in a million different directions while i was writing all this. but i guess i just think that for all of the praise the emperor's new groove gets for its comedy and for how hilarious yzma and kronk in particular are as a duo, the movie also has a lot of genuine heart that gets overlooked. kuzco's character growth and his unique dynamic with pacha is, for me, really what elevates the movie from just a funny movie that i like to one of my favorite disney movies. and i wish more people appreciated that aspect of it and saw it as a found family story in the same way that treasure planet, brother bear, and lilo and stitch are all found family stories.

#disney #the emperor's new groove #help i wrote a whole essay about this movie #and i didn't even mention how much i love the way kuzco's home life is contrasted with pacha's #ugh. they have one of the most interesting and unique dynamics ever in a disney movie. i love them #love how kuzco gets away from yzma's toxic influence by way of accidentally being adopted #by the guy whose village he almost destroyed for a theme park #they're ENEMIES to FOUND FAMILY.... sobs #kuzco #pacha #yzma #kronk

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chuunai · 3 months

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Henlo I have something to add to the 100 followers event if that’s cool

Dazai with scenario 2 and prompt 16. Idk how these things traditionally go but…. Your stuff seems good so far and I’m excited to see what you do with this

Thank you thank you, Anon. Also sorry for how long this took everyone I swear I’m combing through the requests 3_3

✧˚ · . dad first, detective second - dazai osamu

who would’ve imagined the demon prodigy having a hellion of his own?

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff, established relationship (marriage with reader), SFW → baby baby baby, Dazai really likes your boobs, etc.

It’s a perfect night, really.

Your warm body resting against his, limbs lazily tossed over each other as you snuggled and acted like lovesick fools. Moonlight poured in from the cracks of the curtains, casting small slivers on your face. Dazai couldn’t help but think of an angel when it came to you. A heavenly being that granted him a new life and forgave him for his past.

Nudging at your cheek with his nose, his voice came out in a sleepy tone.

“You should sleep, [name].”

His hand reached up to cup your face, playfully using his thumbs to gently close your eyelids like one would do with a body. He’d seen many people in the Mafia do that—try and make the deaths they caused seem more peaceful rather than a brutal end. Dazai himself never did that. No need in beautifying a simple concept of its finality and simplicity.

“Can’t. I know she’s about to wake up. It’s nearly eleven, and we put her to sleep at seven. I can tell.”

You shook your head stubbornly, looking at the baby monitor nearby where static noise and the occasional mix of a tiny snore and coo came from.

His little hellion.

Really, he had no clue how he got so lucky. First with the fact that he impregnated you and you carried his baby. Second with the fact that he had his own family now. And third with the fact she looked so much like him. Thick brown curls of hair on her head, big curious eyes that looked at him so adoringly. The tiny freckles and birthmarks scattered across her skin. She had some of your features, yes, but they were more subtle than his features.

Coupled with the fact that she was a bundle of energy and sass like him.

“I insist, pretty. Shinju needs her daddy too.”

He knew how much she made you tired with her habit for refusing to nap for more than an hour or two coupled with breastfeeding and the general responsibility and time that being a mom took. Dazai wanted to spend time with his daughter too and relieve your stress. You’d get sleep, he’d get to see Shinju. Win-win, in all accounts.

Hell, he even gave you puppy eyes in the darkness of your room.

��I…fine. But don’t wake me up if you screw up.”

Dramatically, he sighed and frowned, placing a hand on his heart.

“Does my ‘bella really think I’m an incompetent father? How heartbreaking and cruel of her!”

Much to his relief, you playfully groaned, pinching his sides lightly.

“I didn’t say that, dummy. God, I swear Shinju is more mature than you.”

Jesus, you were so insulting tonight. How was the baby that tried to put anything she could in her mouth more mature than him? Sure, he was a bit funny and childish, but he wasn’t a baby. Well, if he had his face buried in your boobs he’d be a baby. Still, it’s not his fault that they’re just so big and warm and squishy and seem to beg for his attention.

Which is what he soon did, resting his head on your chest while cupping them softly. You were wearing one of his shirts and a nursing bra underneath. He wished you weren’t wearing anything at all, but it wasn’t fair to ask for that when you recently gave birth just a mere two months ago. His libido lowered itself only for you. And when you did have sex—quickies when Shinju would nap—, he was so much nicer and loving than usual. The mother of his child didn’t deserve rough mean sex, no, she deserved gentle treatment under the sheets of their futon.

You deserved everything that he could possibly give you.

So when the small baby demon eventually began to wake up and whimper, he pressed a kiss onto your cheek and slowly got up, whistling a small tune under his breath before waking to the makeshift nursery nearby.

Opening the door slowly, he made his way to the crib and picked up his sniffling newborn, shushing her comfortingly.

“Shhh, it’s okay. Daddy’s here. We don’t want to wake up mama, okay?”

Her tiny hands balled up into fists, weakly moving around and occasionally hitting his chest. Sitting down on the rocking chair nearby, he fumbled around for one of her stuffed animals, grabbing the familiar bunny as he placed it in her arms.

“Look there, Shinju. It’s your bunny!”

From an authoritative Mafia executive to a tired loving father. Lord, Chuuya would be laughing his ass off. Or have that stupid face of confusion while he’d berate Dazai with questions about what unlucky woman had to bear his spawn. But what could that short alcoholic of a ginger say? No woman wanted to birth his babies.

He was quickly snapped out of his thoughts when Shinju’s tiny fingers began to grab at his chest, thinking he could feed her too. He could, just not straight from the source unlike you. Standing up, he went over to the mini-fridge nearby which contained bottles of your milk. It wasn’t too chilly, and so he carried it and the cooing baby to the kitchen where he warmed it up in the microwave.

After it warmed up, he carefully began to feed her, leaning back against the counter as he did so.

It still felt so odd to him. Caring and loving someone he helped to create. His self from ten years ago would never believe it—that they’d find love and even have a baby after escaping the Mafia. He had you to thank for that. The one who picked up the discarded pieces of his soul and welded it into the man he is today—a father first, and a detective second.

Kinda rushed the end but I couldn’t think of anything more :(

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts, @xxcandlelightxx

#bungou stray dogs #bungou gay dogs #aspiring writer #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuunai #fanfic #dazai x reader #dazaibsd #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai osamu #bsd fluff #fluff #bsd tag #bsd

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lustlovehart · 1 month

Text

Caught In Her Web

A/n: I love women

Summary: [Yandere] Dinner never seems to go right with Kafka

Warnings: Toxic date, memory erasure, unwanted touching, unconscious kiss

———

Her gloved fingers tap against the wooden table, every sound only increasing the tension through the room.

"Hm? Oh, don't look at me like that, I'm not gonna eat you dear."

At this rate, you wouldn't doubt if she did take a bite out of you.

"Kafka, quit this, what do you need from me this time?"

"Don't be so heartless [Name], maybe I just wanted to have dinner with my favorite person through the universe's."

"Cut it out."

"I'm not messing with you," her leather covered hands slowly make their way into your own, both palms caging your own in hers as she makes heavy contact into your soul. "Let's just eat shall we?"

You don't reply, only looking hesitantly at your hand covered by her malice.

You knew of the existence of scripts, she never hid information from you. Whatever information she did withhold probably would’ve been stuff you wouldn’t wanna know anyway.

The food laid between you two, the steam floating off it being very visible, yet Kafkas eyes completely overshadow them, rather than being drawn to the appetizers your focus is entirely on her, you don't look into her eyes, but just staring at her gloved hands is enough.

She has that effect on people you assume.

Her left hand plays with your arm, the digits of her limb playful crawling up your skin until they catch onto your chin, forcing you to finally look at her.

"You know darling, it's common coutersy to look at someone when you talk to them is it not?"

"I'm not gonna look at you."

Her fingers quickly release you from her hold, a playful 'hm' leaving her lips as she takes a fork and, somehow, makes stabbing a steak look both violent and elegant at the same time.

"Fine, be that way, the least you could do is let me feed you."

"I doubt you'd give me a choice."

"Hm, you're smart, good," the knife cuts through the meat, her utensil slowly lifting it to your mouth, her lips telling you to say 'ahh'. "Be careful dear, it's hot."

You don't give her the satisfaction of listening to her, despite the heat of the food radiating off of it, you don't blow. You'd rather burn your tongue than make this criminal happy with you.

You were right, your mouth is in so much pain. You try to keep your face neutral, but you can't help letting a little of the pain escape.

"See, I told you it was hot. I just praised you too."

You swallowed, it hurt like hell, but you swallowed. You're sure if it wasn't boiling it would've been delicious, but what's done is done.

"Try to at least enjoy our dinner, this will be the last time I see you for a while"

"Hm, maybe you're right, that does sound like something to celebrate."

"Oh, so you're only witty when it comes to remarks against me?"

"Was that not obvious?"

"You wound me [Name]" she looked down at the food again, instead of giving you more she only sighs and pushes the plate to the side. "Seems the dinner plans fell through. That's okay, Elio saw it coming."

"So even your 'heartfelt' dinner was apart of the script."

"Not all of it, we were just meant to sit at table filled with food, that wasn't apart of the plan."

"So you decided toying with me would be funner?"

"Playing with anyone is enjoyable to me, it's just nicer when it's you." She smiles after her words. Just that, a closed lip smile at you.

You look at the clock she had set up, it felt more like a countdown than a way to keep track of time. 3 hours left, that's too long for you.

"What, so you added your flirtations into this dinner?"

The more you think, 3 hours left till what?

"Hm, I did, is there problem? I don't think I hide my liking towards you."

Your brain can't remember what it was you were waiting for. It's like the memory of what waited for you at the end wasn't there anymore.

"You don't, but I wish you did."

Keep... Date... As long... Possible...

She leans across the table, her lips ghosting over your earlobe, a deep laugh escaping from her throat.

"How will I express my adoration for you then?" Her whisper came out teasing, yet if you looked past that, you can hear her underlying annoyance slip through the cracks. "Perhaps lock you in a golden cage like an innocent bird? Or should I do like a spider and trap you in my web." You sit still, not daring to move.

"Jokes of course, though, I would like for you to stay with me."

Feint words of broken memories invade your head, beating like some painful headache.

"Once this is over, you'll be different. It's sad I won't be able to keep the [Name] I cherish, but it's the price we have to pay for the script. These last moments will be what I'll have left of you, so I hope we can enjoy it together.

The whispers felt familiar, like you've been through it before. Spirit Whsiperer...

"Now, can we please enjoy this last meal of peace before it changes ?"

Your hands grab onto her as you push her to her side of the table. Your breaths were heavy once you remembered the situation the damned clock. Looking back at the time, how could time go by so quickly?

1 hour left.

"Don't try using that shit on me Kafka. It was 3 hours left 10 minutes ago how the hell could that be."

"That's the [Name] I like to see." She doesn't answer you, not a single question. While you frantically shake her.

"I told you myelf, I really do enjoy messing with you." Her hands aren't gloved anymore. The leather long being discarded, her fingers slowly reach up to your cheek pulling you closer to her face.

Her fingers are cold, like a corpse. You don't shiver though. Her touch is the most undisturbing part about her. It's what makes her so horrifying.

"Times up dear." Her thumb ghosts over your lips, gently placing her digit on you. She stand up from her seat, being eye to eye to yourself, her other hand placing itself on your waist, seemingly pulling you closer.

"Boom."

Your vision blacks as your head falls forward, the last thing you remember being the soft feeling of your face resting on her shoulder. Ice cold fingers are left stroking your head as the sound of a door opens.

"At the end of the day," Though you're out cold, deep down she wishes you can feel the way her freezing lips place a chaste kiss on your own. "I'm a selfish woman."

------

A dim light is all your blurred vision can see, the sound of a feint hum ringing through the empty space as well. Your head is rested on what feels to be someone's thighs, whoever it is must be the one rubbing circles into your chest, more specifically, the area where a heart would be.

It's not beating. Your hearts not working.

"You're awake." Your eyes clear as you look up at the woman smiling from above. She's beautiful.

She's familar.

"Do you remember me?"

"..."

She waits.

"Do you like me?"

“I…”

She doesn’t say anymore, only tracing patterns into your skin as she waits, that unwavering smile still on her face. The lights grow darker. You don’t hear a throbbing in your ears, something someone with a heart would hear in distress. You don’t have that anymore. Well, maybe not anymore, you can’t remember if you ever did have one.

“Who are you?”

——

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere hsr #kafka x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere kafka #self insert #vesperwrites #sapphic #wlw x reader

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gucciwins · 8 months

Note

ok but now i’m curious about when and how jo call end yn mama for the first time

Golden Sparks Josie is ten. It's been fun revisiting this family 1.3k enjoy!

“Do you think Mom or Mumma is better?” Josie asked Harry as he finished braiding her hair. Josie didn’t like Harry doing her hair, but Y/N had an early morning. She didn’t want to wake Jo up early and instead had Harry promise to do his best.

“Think Mom is normal and common here,” Harry answers, his ten-year-old daughter.

She furrowed her eyebrows, “don’t think she likes normal.”

“I’m normal,” Harry defends.

Josie shrugs in the mirror, “not in my eyes.”

Harry deflated because he is a dork at heart, but his daughter didn’t need to be so blunt. “You need to be nicer to your old man.”

Josie laughs loudly in her bathroom. “You’re not old, Dad.”

He pats her shoulders, gesturing he’s done, and follows her to the kitchen, where he will make her breakfast before her game. Y/N promised to meet her there and was sorry she couldn’t drive her there. Jo assured her it was okay. Y/N hadn’t missed a game and wouldn’t be starting now.

“Do you think she’ll like that I call her Mum?” Josie asks Harry, returning to their earlier conversation.

Harry nods, “she’s been in your life for two years. I’d say she fits the role.”

“Just because she’s with you doesn’t make her my mother.”

He sighs because he knows where Josie is coming from. After everything she experienced with her mother, he knows why she’s hesitant to call Y/N a name with so much meaning. After all, she had a mom once, and it wasn’t so good. Maybe calling Y/N Mum or Mumma would be another way of Josie to reclaim the word and give them all a new meaning.

“Y/N loves you, Josephine. She’s loved you since you opened up to her when you joined the team. Sometimes, I feel like Y/N knows you better than I do. And you’re my kid,” Harry shares. “She’s engaged to me, but it unites us all as a family when we marry. Even if we don’t share the same last name, the three of us will become one family.”

“We can take hers,” Josie suggests.

Harry kisses her head. “We’d have to talk with her about that too.”

“Do you think she considers me hers–like her child?”

Harry wishes he had all the answers for Josie, but he doesn’t, though this answer is one he’s confident in. Y/N talks about all of Josie’s accomplishments, sharing them with her family. “I can’t speak to her. I do know that every I love you she’s ever told you is real. She’s lived with us for over a year.” Y/N had been right by Harry’s side for every parent meeting open house and picked up Josie from school most of the time. She was a mother in all ways but one.

“Didn’t we move in?” Josie corrects him.

“Alright, you smarty pants,” Harry shakes his head. “You can start walking to your game.”

“Dad,” Josie drags out his name.

He swings her bag over his shoulder, thankful he had already set the cooler in the car. “Kidding, now off we go. You’re mum,” he teases, is big on punctuality.

Arriving at the field, Y/N is already there and has the first drill for warm-up set up. There is already a dad talking to her, and Harry’s sure it’s Dana’s dad who’s been chatting her up, even with the engagement ring on her finger. After last week's practice, Harry may have gone a little overboard with the PDA, but the guy can’t take a hint. Thankfully, Josie quickly runs over to her, and the man excuses himself.

His heart warms seeing his two favorite people, Y/N quick to kiss her cheek and commenting on Josie’s lopsided braids. He tried, but there is no one better than Y/N, that’s for sure. Harry sets his chair close to the girls' bench because while Y/N is focused during the game, he manages to steal a kiss or two during a throw-in or a corner if he’s lucky.

Y/N is now crouched down, tying Josie’s shoes. They’re whispering to each other about something, but Harry doesn’t dare interrupt. Y/N pats Josie’s knees and tells her she’s all good to go. One last hug and his little girl is running onto the field, where the assistant coach stands with a few other girls. The girls always liked terrorizing Kate, wanting to know about her three cats.

“Darling,” Harry sings. “Missed you.”

Y/N steps into his open arms, laying her head on his chest. “Love you, sorry I had to leave so early.”

“All forgiven now.” Y/N grins. “Only if I get to pick where we eat?” Harry knows she loves choosing, but he wants today to be special.

“Mexican?”

Harry kisses her lips. “You read my mind.”

“Did Jo seem a bit jittery to you?” Y/N changes the subject. “She’s usually calm before a game.”

Harry frowns, “did she say anything new to you?”

Y/N shakes her head.

“Then no, I have no idea.”

Weird answer Y/N thought, but decided to brush it off. “Alright, love. I’m off.”

“Hate to see you leave, but love to watch you go,” he whispered.

“Dork!” Y/N shouted.

The game went well, with Golden Sparks winning 3-1 with Josie giving two assists. Y/N was waving goodbye to her players when he spotted Josie lingering away. Juliet followed Y/N’s every move, still as in awe of her aunt as when Harry first met her. Juliet got called away by Xavier, who was dealing with two toddlers. Y/N kissed her niece goodbye, promising to see her tomorrow for the pool party Y/N was hosting to celebrate the start of summer.

“Job well done, Jo.” Y/N swings Josie’s bag over her shoulder while Harry takes Y/N’s. She playfully tugs it back but lets it slip when Harry looks sternly at her.

“Are we eating at home?” Jo asks them.

Y/N smiles down at Josie. “Your dad wants Mexican. You alright with that?”

“Perfect. Can I have the keys?” Y/N offers her own, knowing Josie prefers to ride with Y/N after a game.

Josie hugs her waist tight. “I’m riding with Mum, Dad.”

Y/N freezes in place as she processes what Josie called her. Harry is right by her side, failing to hold back his grin.

Josie called her Mom. She heard it clear as day. Josie said it so confidently it was as if she’d been calling her that all her life.

“Did-did she call me?” She stutters.

Harry laughs, “you heard her, baby.”

Y/N’s eyes welled up with tears. She tries to hold them back but lets them fall as Harry embraces her.

She drops the bag on her shoulder, knowing Harry would pick it up, and tells him to make their food order to go. Y/N kisses Harry, muttering against his lips how much she loves him, and then takes off running to her car, eager to see her little girl and see if she’d call her Mom once more.

Y/N swings open the door on the right side where Josie always sits. She’s singing along to the radio, the AC on blast, and Y/N hugs her.

“Mumma, what’s going on?”

“I love you so much, baby. So much. You’re the best thing to have ever happened to me and your dad. Don’t know what I did to deserve someone as amazing as you to choose me as their Mom.” Y/N cries, not able to hide her emotions.

Jo hugs her tiger, “I love you too, Mum.”

Y/N wants to live in this moment forever but knows they should get home. “Let’s go home, Jo.”

“Stevie Nicks, Mum?”

“Perfect choice.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles story #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fluff #dad harry #harry x y/n #fluff #harry styles au #harry blurb #harry styles drabble

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 2 months

Note

Chaggie AU where Vaggie is a member of a holy order devoted to slaying monsters. As part of her becoming a holy knight, she must commune with an Angel to be granted their divine power... only something goes wrong with the ritual, and the being that appears before her is none other than the Princess of Hell.

Lute: “Gay?! She’s supposed to be HOLY!”

Adam: “Yeah, hot.”

Lute: “…let. Me. See. That. SuMMOnINg sCRiPTuRE.”

Adam: “Sure thing dude. Here.”

Lute: “This isn’t a holy rite, this is… WRITINGS OF SAPPHO!”

Adam: "Heh, heathen and homoerotic. WLWhoops?"

Charlie: “You should really be more careful next time!"

Vaggie: "Uh."

Charlie: "Lot’s of other demons would be thrilled to get yanked into the mortal world without a circle of binding to hold them- especially by someone as cute as you-

Vaggie: "Excuse me?"

Charlie: "And when I say thrilled, I mean in the blood and guts and screaming kinda way, NOT just in the 'can feel hellfire in my cheeks' kinda way. Safe summoning is important!!”

Vaggie: “Why’re you drawing the circle in yourself, then. With your… claws.”

Charlie: “Because you didn’t?” (dusts fire off her hands) “Anyway you should be good now, ask me anything!”

Vaggie: “You’re seriously not taking advantage of being summoned but not bound?"

Charlie: "I'm taking advantage of the view!"

Charlie: (beat)

Charlie: "Of the, mortal world, I am enjoying the pretty scenery."

Vaggie: "It's dark."

Charlie: "I'm enjoying the beautiful knight. Night. Night without a 'K'. Not knight like YOU'RE a knight, not that you aren't beautiful-"

Vaggie: "I'm. What."

Charlie: "The one who should be talking now! Not me. I think I've done enough talking for now. I think I'm good on having said stuff recently. I think I should be quiet for a bit."

Vaggie: (gay) (not immune to adorable ladies) "WHY are you here. You're not, what I expected."

Charlie: “I'm not the usual demon- As hell princess I get first dibs on all summons! After dad anyway.”

Vaggie: (of COURSE she's a princess) “Why answer this one.”

Charlie: “You’re missing an eye? It looks painful?"

Vaggie: "...so?

Charlie: "?? I thought maybe you wanted help with that.”

Vaggie: "It's a penance. You can't help with it."

Charlie: "oh."

Vaggie: “...That’s it? You're not here for anything else?”

Charlie: “….”

Charlie: “You um. You look very cool in that armor.” (cringes) “Awesome.” (cringes more)

Vaggie: “Are you a siren or a succubus or something.”

Charlie: “What!? No! No I’m just, I just think girls are hot! Cool! You look great!! …girls all look great, and you’re a girl, and you…”

Vaggie: “…”

Vaggie: “Do you need any demons slayed?”

Charlie: “Ahaa, no.”

Vaggie: “Holy quests completed?”

Charlie: “No?”

Vaggie: “Are you gonna eat me.”

Charlie: “N-not on the first date- I- OH YOU MEAN ACTUALLY-? No no no! I don’t, I’m, I don’t eat souls. Or people.”

Vaggie: “So what’s the catch here. The price.”

Charlie: “Nothing. I just wanted to help.”

Charlie: “Okay and maaaaybe have a nice conversation for once. Kinda short on them in hell.”

Vaggie: “… is there ANYTHING I can help you with?”

Charlie: “Well I just broke up with-”

Vaggie: “I’ll kill them.”

Charlie: “-and I could really use a date for the ball, I mean! No killing needed!! Dad isn’t going again, mom’s um, busy. And it’ll be a lot less awkward if I already have a dance partner, you know?”

Vaggie: “You want me to find you a dance partner.”

Charlie: “Oh no I, I was hoping- do YOU dance?”

Vaggie: "Me."

Charlie: "If you want to?"

Vaggie: “You’re asking me to go to hell.”

Charlie: “Shit. Right, dumb idea. It’s my home but, yeah. It’s not like anyone enjoys being here.”

Vaggie: (fuck she's cute) (fuck she's SAD)

Vaggie: “No one does? What about you?”

Charlie: “I… just wish the people would be nicer. A place is the people who live there, right?”

Vaggie: “…”

Vaggie: “I’ll come.”

Charlie: “You wha?”

Vaggie: “I’ll come to the dance.”

Charlie: "But- hell! Why-"

Vaggie: "Hell’s a better place than I thought."

Charlie: "You've never even BEEN here!"

Vaggie: "I've met you."

Charlie: ".... I'm not... the usual demon."

Vaggie: "I'll take my chances. I'll need to borrow a dress though. All I have up here is, armor."

Charlie: "I can, I can change that. A dress. N- no problem."

Vaggie: "It's a deal then." (holds out hand) "A dance for a dress?"

Charlie: (takes her hand and shakes it eagerly while bowing) "ITS A DATE!"

Vaggie: (chuckles) "Yeah, I guess that's a better word for it."

Charlie: "And I PROMISE when we dance I WON'T trample your toes with my hooves!"

Vaggie: "... should I just keep the sabatons on?"

Charlie: "I promise to find you a dress that goes good with your armored shoes so your toes don't get trampled on."

Vaggie: "We're gonna be quite the pair, aren't we."

Charlie: "Heheh~"

Lute: "WHAT HAPPENED WHY WAS THERE FIRE AND BRIMSTONE INSTEAD OF HOLY LIGHT WHY WERE YOU COMMUNING WITH A FIEND SO LONG IS IT DEAD DID YOU KILL IT???"

Vaggie: "Does taking her heart count?"

Adam: "Whoooo VaGEEE! Totally FUCKED that demon huh!!"

Vaggie: "Mm, not totally sir."

Vaggie: (smiling) (softly to herself) "Not on the first date."

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #lute hazbin hotel #adam hazbin hotel #silly girlfriend summoning au #incorrect quotes #first part taken from the emperor's new groove- please imagine lute and adam as kronk and yzma #anyway diversity win!#the holy knight and demon princess who fall in love are both queer!!#and dumb!#it will turn out great im sure

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e-m-ma-lmfao · 4 months

Note

hi! i literally love how you write❤️

could you write a fluff with a little bit of nsfw (if you dont take nsfw requests, just do it all fluff, i love fluff so i doesnt bother me) with a fem reader x cloud?

here's how i want the story, but you can obviosuly change it to your preferences.

y/n was a childood friend of cloud,and she didnt see him in A LOT of years. then she encounters him and they basically talk about rhe the good old times. a month passes and it's y/n's birthday, they all celebrate at the bar and give y/n a present. then it's cloud turn to give her the present, and he gives her a boquet and a letter with some photos from much years ago. after that, he kisses her and she kisses back. after the birthday party, cloud was a little bit drunk so y/n took him at her house to take care of him and cloud gets all clingy and says things to y/n. (if you want to add some nsfw, you can add it in this part of the story)

thank you❤️

Happy Birthday Slowpoke

pairing : cloud strife x fem! reader

description : an unexpected reunion leads to birthday wishes, unspoken love confessions, and drunken kisses.

warnings : small make out sesh but no smut, drinking alcohol (clouds gets drunk)

Sector 7 gets quieter at night. Never silent. But quiet. Walking through the streets is much nicer at night when there aren't so many people pushing to get through. It’s easier to think. Easier to take in your surroundings.

There’s a certain hum that brings you comfort as you walk through the nearly empty streets. You remember when you first came to Sector 7, nervous and scared, and still dealing with the aftershock of Nibelheim.

Nibelheim. Cloud.

God. How was he still stuck so deep in your head after years?

You missed him. Him and his stupid blond hair.

It was embarrassing how fast your head would turn at the sight of any blond man. Any. Even children sometimes. You had to catch a second glance to make sure you hadn’t just seen your childhood friend run past you as he giggled with his friends. It was never him, but you hoped.

The peace of your walk was disturbed by a man walking past you. Bright blond hair fluff led up like the feathers of a chocobo in black clothes, and heavy footsteps. He pays you no mind as he walks past you, but you force yourself to do a double take.

But this man is different. Even with his back turned to you he feels familiar. His hair stands up, the way Clouds did when he was a child. He’s dressed in the garb of a SOLDIER with a big sword on his back, Clouds always promised he’d become a SOLDIER. And he even walks the same way Cloud would as a kid, trudging along his path, god forbid someone think of him as anything but independent.

It all feels too coincidental. And without thinking your lips open to speak, “Cloud?”

“Hm?” The man turns, only his head and shoulder so as to not pay you too much care, to face you. And your mind is flooding with nostalgia.

You're running after a young boy, blond haired, breathless laughs leave yours and his mouths.

“Cloud!!! Wait for me!!” You squeal after the older

boy whose legs carry him much faster than you can keep up with. And your tired legs, mixed with your lack of available air, are making it harder to match his pace.

For a minute you think he doesn’t hear you, or maybe, that he doesn't want to listen. But soon enough he skids to a stop, looking back at you as he pants lightly. He wears a stupid smile on his face, cheeks flushed.

“Sorry y/n.. I keep forgetting I’m too fast for you. Your little legs can’t keep up,” He teases and lets out a juvenile giggle.

Finally you meet his side, matching his breath, “They can so!”.

“Yeah right slow poke.” A childlike pout appears on your face, fitting for an 8 year old you. Always pouting. Always following after Cloud.

You were never really sure why Cloud kept you around. But when you were kids, it never really mattered for more than a second. You just liked being around him, and him you.

“It’s not fair. You're older, your legs are longer!” He smiles down at you, laughing between heavy breaths.

“Only a year older.”

“Still!” He stays quiet for a minute, letting you catch your breath without teasing you further.

When you finally straighten back up, he’s still showing a giddy smile on his lips. Without a word, he grabs your hand in his, and takes off running the same way he had been before. Only this time you can keep up with him, pulled behind him.

“Cloud!”

“Hm?” He turns to look behind him, a wide smile full of teeth on his face and eyes bright and blue. Still hopeful.

His eyes meet yours and you realize the same blue eyes are looking into yours, only they are tired and the hope of his youth has been long gone. Yours probably look the same, usually. But right now they are wide and beginning to tear up. And his pupils, blown in recognition, are nearly as wide as yours.

“Y/n?”

“Cloud!” In an instant you latched onto him, arms wrapped tightly around his torso. Your face squished against his hard chest, probably wetting the front of his tank top from the tears slipping from your eyes.

He’s hesitant, but eventually one hand lands on your back and the other grabs onto your waist, pulling you in impossibly closer to his body. When you were kids, hugs were nothing out of the ordinary, but this one feels so different. You’ve been longing to hug him since you were 13, longing to see him since you were 17.

It’s overwhelming, the amount of emotion flowing through your body. You're happy to see your best friend again. You're sad that you haven’t seen him in so long. And you're angry that he left without ever saying goodbye.

“Y..you.. are you real?”

You look up to find his voice, wiping away the wetness from your face. His hands move to touch your face, then to your shoulders and finally fall to his sides.

“Yes, Cloud. I'm real. When..how.. It’s been years Cloud.”

“I know.”

There are a million things you’d like to say to him. You’d like to scream at him and punch at his chest until he bruises, not likely you could hit him hard enough to leave any marks but you’d try. But then you want to hug him, and run through the streets with him hand and hand like when you were kids. You don’t know what to say to him, where to start, or if you even should.

“I missed you.”

“I know.” He doesn’t say it back, and the lack of emotion that he shows is almost aggravating. But you don’t make it known to him how annoyed you are at him for his underwhelming reaction to this reunion.

You invite him back to your apartment and, with a lot of convincing no and many ‘pleases’, he agrees to join you for an hour tops. His hesitancy hurts your feelings, you don’t admit that to him though, god forbid he realize that you hadn’t changed much since you were young. Since he clearly had.

“You can sit down, you know.” He raises his brows, your acknowledgment of his awkwardness unexpected, but he takes a seat at your small table. The chair he sits in is the perfect size for you, and while he’s not the tallest man you’ve ever encountered, he almost seems to not fit on it.

He is so silent, it stirs up years of pent up sadness and frustration deep within you, and inside you deeper still a fury of anger festers. But you push it away, locking those emotions up for another night when you haven’t just stumbled into your best friend of 10 years after 4 years of being apart. And you offer him a drink.

“Are you gonna tell me what you’ve been up to for the last 4 years?” He is silent, stoic, hides his face by taking a sip from the glass of water you offered him.

“Not tonight.” Your teeth grind together inside your mouth, holding back your tongue from spewing words better left unsaid. He must see the clench in your jaw, the anger and disappointment in your eyes, “But another time. I will.”

You fill the rest of the night with slow, and awkward, conversation. He doesn't make much effort to initiate it, but he answers your earnest questions without any complaint. At least the ones that don’t involve his work, his past, his lack of a goodbye. So the night moves slowly.

It doesn’t feel like very long has passed at all by the time he tells you he has to leave.

“Already?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, my days are busy.”

“Are you staying in Sector 7?” He nods, you're not appreciating this strong and silent thing he has going on.

“Working?” Another nod. “Well..if you find yourself free next month, we’re celebrating my birthday at the Seventh Heaven..uh.. it’s Tifa's bar actually.!”

“I know.”

“Oh.. yeah I guess, you would’ve gone to see her.”

“I didn’t go t- .. I’m sorry. I should go.” He walks to the door, posture straight and stoic expression broken by a look of pity for just a moment. You walk him out.

You can’t help yourself from speaking as your eyes meet his back, your mind is lacking in self restraint tonight, “Will you come?”

He faces you, mouth parted before a small smile plants itself there, “I’ll try, y/n, goodnight.” And he’s gone into the night with quickened steps.

“Hey! Have some faith in him. I’m sure he’ll make it.” Tifa leans over the counter with a bright smile, sliding a drink into your hands.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

The bar isn’t full, but the people that matter are here, most of them anyway.

Biggs and Wedge, probably already tipsy based on the volume they're producing, are playing darts in the corner. Barret sits on the other end of the bar, Marlene seated beside him as they whisper between each other. And Tifa stands in front of you, a positive grin lingering on her face.

“Y/n!” Marlene springs off the barstool, with the help of her father, and rushes over to you with a clumsily wrapped gift in her hands.

“For me? Well thank you, Marlene.” You smile down at her, gently taking the gift from her hands and unwrapping it to find a bracelet made of beads and charms.

“I made it for you. And I have one too! See?” She holds up her wrist, which you hadn’t realized was hidden behind her back, to show you the matching bracelet she wears. You lift into your arms, holding her in a tight hug.

“They’re perfect Marlene, thank you.”

With her still in your arms, you resume conversation with Tifa, and are promptly joined by Barret. You love them, like family of course. But you are so focused on the lack of Clouds presence that you forget to fully no appreciate the ones around you.

Tifa reaches behind her, into the fridge and pulls outs an obviously homemade cake. “We decorated it together,” She slides a wink Marlene’s way and begins lighting the candles. “Make a wish y/n.”

You think for a moment, it’s childish that you're hoping for your wish to work so genuinely, but you take a deep breath and blow out your candles with a heavy breath. One sweep.

“What’d you wish for y/n?” Marlene’s voice is loud beside you.

“Hey now.. you know the rules, I can’t tell you or else it won’t come true.” She pouts for a minute but her smile quickly returns when Tifa hands her a piece of cake. You take your own piece in your hands, sharing a smile with Tifa and Marlene.

“Hey man! Good to see you. Glad you could make it.”

Your eyes are moving faster than you can focus on the sound of Biggs’ words, finding the one person your wish standing in the doorway. In his hands he holds a bouquet, flowers of your favorite colors wrapped with paper and a pink bow.

He approaches you with a sheepish smile on his face, “Sorry I’m late. I didn’t know what to get you as a gift, I hope I got the colors right. Oh! And there’s this,” He reaches into his back pocket and hands you a sealed envelope. On its cover, your name is written in messy writing.

“These are ..beautiful, Cloud, thank you.”

“Drink?” Tifa is cheery, as always, if not more so.

“Yeah, thanks.” He takes a seat beside you and you try to hide the way your eyes linger on him. The muscles in his grown arms. The familiarity of his spiky hair. You're not so angry anymore, now that you've had time to process his return, rather longing for the relationship you had as kids. The closeness you’d been lacking in your friendships since he left.

“Are you gonna open it?”

“What?” His voice brings you back to the moment, and you realize you’ve been ogling at him.

“The envelope..”

“Oh! Yeah, right. Yeah.”

You reach for it and carefully open it, trying not to rip the paper too badly. Tucked inside the envelope is a photo of the two of you as children and a folded up letter, reading :

This is stupid. But I tried to write something so I wouldn’t have to say all this out loud.

I haven’t been around for a long time, so I don’t really know where we stand anymore. But as far as I know, you’ve been the only person I’ve been able to open up to about everything.

Without you, I probably would’ve spent my childhood alone.

When we were kids, I swore I’d be a SOLDIER. But to be honest it wasn’t all I thought it would be. And I’m sorry I left you for shinra.

And I know I should’ve said goodbye, and I probably hurt you when I left. But I’m here now, and I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.

You were my best friend or you are my best friend, doesn't matter.

Happy Birthday Slowpoke.

He looks at you intensely as he tries to gauge your reaction. It’s a simple letter, and could be written by a child with a little effort. But it’s Cloud, and it’s the most you can ask from a man like him. It still has your hands wiping at your eyes.

“Hey, did you make her cry? No crying on your birthday!” Tifa returns, leaning over the counter to slide Cloud his drink, looking over at you. “Y’alright?”

“Yeah I’m okay. I’m really good actually, thank you.. for this, Cloud”.

He nods, and you swear his cheeks redden, but he looks away before either you or Tifa can comment on it.

Cloud's drink is gone in moments, and he is asking for another, whilst making comfortable conversation with you. A ‘happy birthday’ ‘how’s your day been’ ‘what do you do for work now’ kind of comfortable. He doesn’t ask anything personal, does not dwell on the past, you almost wish he would.

But you indulge him and his calculated questions, being satisfied with any conversation at all, and let the night flow.

It doesn't take long to realize that Cloud is not a drinker, or at least that he does not know his limits. It’s dark out now, and music plays from the jukebox, and Cloud sways drunkenly to a song. You can’t help but laugh, whilst also feeling weird seeing him be so free and not high strung. Not a SOLDIER, just a man.

He stands up, grabbing onto your arm to pull you over in front of the jukebox where Wedge is dancing with Tifa.

“Careful Cloud!” You stumble after him, bumping into his chest as he pulls you. He doesn’t seem to notice, grabbing onto your hands to spin you and move you around.

“You're a pretty good dancer now,” He moves you to face him, moving to the music still with a goofy smile on his face, “Do you remember.. when we..when we were kids and you would step on my feet ..everytime we danced.”

You giggle at his slurred words, “You're so drunk right now.”

“And you’re ..sso pretty..” He moves in closer, close enough that you can smell the liquor lingering on his lips.

“Oh wow.. you're really drunk.. haha.” You make no effort to move away from him, but you laugh at his actions to relieve the awkwardness flowing from your body.

“Mhm..” He closes the gap and places his lips against yours. Your hands find his chest, eyes falling close as you kiss him back. Your self control is weak, and you want to keep his lips against yours. But he's drunk, and your head is starting to spin.

Somehow you find the strength to push him away and he moves away with a pout on his puffy lips.

“Let’s.. uh.. get you home, yeah?”

“But I’m having fun!” He attempts to spin you, but he ends up making himself dizzy, “Actually, yeah.. that’s probably a good idea.”

“Yeah.” You laugh at his flushed face, holding onto his arm as you say goodbye to everyone and leave the bar.

“Can we go to yours?” He doesn't let go of you, even after you’ve walked halfway down an empty Sector 7 road, but he has instead moved his grip to hold your hand to keep you close to him.

“My apartment?”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah..yeah sure.” He leads you to your own apartment like he knows the route by heart, he’s only been there once and yet he acts like he lives there by the speed he finds it.

Once inside he collapses onto your bed, not much space in the apartments, so you suppose that was normal considering there was no couch.

“Do you want some water?” He shakes his head, laying on his back to stare up at the ceiling.

You move towards the stereo on the opposite wall, turning on the radio so there is noise for you to focus on instead of his arms as they rest underneath his head.

“I missed you too .. y'know.” Clouds words barely make their way to you, his voice quiet and music humming just loud enough.

“Hm?” You turn to face him, moving to sit on the ledge of the bed in front of where he lays.

“The night I saw you,” He leans on his elbow to hold himself up, “you said that you missed me. and I didn’t say it back. I did. I missed you. I just didn’t know what to say to you then.”

You don’t say anything, you're not sure what to say anyways.

He looks into your eyes for a few minutes before pulling you by your arm so you lay beside him, but he shifts positions so he holds himself above you with his hands.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

His lips meet yours once more. But unlike the bar this kiss is calculated, not clumsy and childish. He is drunk, and it’s obvious by the taste that remains on his lips even after he has licked them clean multiple times.

Your fingers find his hair, his knee finds its way between your legs and your chest begins to move quicker. He moves to latch his lips onto your neck, sucking spots that will definitely be purple and red tomorrow, while his hands find their place under your shirt on your hips.

And while you’d love for Cloud to continue his journey, the fact remains that he is drunker than a teenager on their 18th birthday, and you want this moment to be one enjoyed sober. So you pull his head up to meet his eyes, and very puffy lips.

“Your drunk Cloud. I think we better save this for another night.”

He pouts, face flushed, but he nods with a sigh. Getting comfy he finds a place to rest his head, on your chest, but his hands don’t move from your skin. If anything you feel his grip tighten, keeping you close as he practically lays on top of you.

“I missed you, a lot. I thought I'd never see you again when you left.” Your fingers find his hair once more, rubbing at his scalp and playing with blond strands.

“I know. I didn’t think I’d see you either.”

The room is quiet, except for the soft hum of music flowing from the stereo. His fingers tense and relax again in sync with his slow breaths, moving to trace the softness of your skin. But eventually his movements stop and he seems to still.

“Cloud?”

There are still a million things you’d like to ask, like to say. And so many years of words you’d like to catch up on between him, months of love confessions that you had admitted to Tifa that you’d like to share with him. But the soft snores that begin to leave his mouth tell you he’s in no mood to talk right now.

“Goodnight soldier..”

#cloud strife x reader #cloud strife #cloud ff7 #fem reader #ff7 #drabble #oneshot #final fantasy x reader #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy

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writingdumpster · 4 months

Text

first impressions

pairing: Matt Murdock x reader (no pronouns used)

warnings: none I think

summary: i wrote this purely bc i know matt murdock is excellent at meeting people’s mothers. after impressing your parents matt gets to thinking about his future.

word count: 1.6k

“I’m nervous.” You sat next to Matt in the restaurant he had chosen for the evening. It was fancy. There was a pianist in one corner of the room and linen tablecloths. It was nicer than the hole-in-the-wall joints that you and Matt usually preferred. He wanted to impress your parents though, so he had made a reservation at a swanky restaurant in midtown Manhattan.

Matt was in his court suit and you had donned the blue silk dress he bought for your anniversary. It was by far your favorite dress. Beyond being a treasured gift, it fit you perfectly and the fabric always felt soft against your skin. Karen had helped Matt pick it out, but she had told you that all she did was describe the dresses and that he had completely ignored her opinions. She had strongly recommended a yellow dress but he had refused her suggestions, insisting you would like the one he picked better. Never having seen the yellow one, you knew he was right. If he picked it, you loved it. You would have him choose between options you put out when you got dressed in the mornings by describing them to him and he always had you match his tie to the rest of his outfit.

“It’s going to be fine,” Matt said and kissed your temple.

“I only ever introduced Caleb to my parents,” you told him, not that you hadn’t said it before. Matt knew that Caleb was not someone you had pleasant memories of. He had heard the stories from you and he was the one who helped you get over many of the fears that Caleb had struck into you. Matt was remembering those stories while he heard in your heartbeat how nervous you were.

“You know I’m not like Caleb,” Matt reminded you.

“I know, Matt. I just…this is a big deal for me,” you said.

“It’s a big deal for me too, sweetheart,” Matt told you. “It’s just an exciting big deal for me.” You inhaled deeply. Matt smiled. “You have nothing to worry about. Moms always like me, angel. It’ll be great,” he assured you.

“All women like you,” you said. Matt laughed lightly.

“Then that will include your mom, won’t it?” He asked rhetorically. He gave you a light peck as he tangled his fingers with yours beneath the table. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he cooed. You sighed.

“You’re right. I know they’re going to love you. I just…” You hesitated.

“Caleb was a mistake and you think it’s bad luck,” Matt said, always knowing what you were thinking.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“This isn’t a mistake, sweetheart. I promise. It’s just the next step,” he told you. You nodded and Matt gave your hand a squeeze. You looked up at the doorway to the restaurant.

“They’re here,” you said. You rose from the table and greeted your mom and dad with hugs. Matt was standing by your side with a charming smile across his face.

“Hello, Mrs. y/l/n,” Matt greeted with a smile. Your mom held her arms out to Matt and pulled him into a hug. He returned it kindly.

“Oh, please, call me y/m/n,” your mom said. “Y/N has told us so much about you. I think we can be on a first name basis,” your mom said. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as your mom told Matt how you spoke about him. Matt simply turned to you and smiled. He loved that you told your parents about him. He wished he could tell his dad all about you. Your father held out his hand for Matt to shake. Matt stayed still, not wanting to give up his powers. You took Matt’s hand and pulled it to where your father’s hand was waiting.

“Oh, sorry about that,” your dad said in embarrassment as he shook Matt’s hand. Matt chuckled lightly.

“That’s alright, sir. Took y/n months to stop answering me with nods,” Matt joked.

“It was not months,” you said sharply.

“You still do it sometimes,” Matt teased. You pursed your lips, biting back the comment about how you knew he could tell. The four of you sat down, Matt pulling out your mother’s chair for her before doing the same for you and taking his seat.

Matt was right about mothers loving him. He charmed your mom with his dry sense of humor and enchanting smile. He won your dad’s approval when he mentioned he owned his own law firm. Your father didn’t need to know that Nelson and Murdock was nearly always on the edge of bankruptcy. Your parents told Matt stories about you from your childhood, despite your protests that they were too embarrassing. Matt loved the stories. All he could do was smile at you. The night was perfect. Matt was perfect. Your father refused Matt’s attempt to pay for the meal before the four of you left. You said your goodbyes in front of the restaurant before getting into different cabs and going back home. Matt’s hand was resting innocently on your leg while the two of you sat in the back of the cab.

“I told you it was going to be fine,” Matt teased you. You rolled your eyes.

“Yes, you were right, Murdock,” you agreed. Matt chuckled.

“Doesn’t happen that often. I have to brag when it does,” he said. The cab pulled up outside of your apartment and the two of you got out. You made your way up the stairs and walked through the sliding door. The glow of the billboard outside of your window was blue. A new advertiser had taken over a few weeks earlier and the red light that usually filled the room had been replaced with a blue light, making it seem like your apartment was bathed in moonlight. You were looking through the mail that you had collected on your way up.

You realized you didn’t know where Matt went when music started playing. You smiled to yourself as you tossed away the junk mail. Suddenly you felt hands on your hips as Matt pulled you away from the counter. He spun you around and moved one of his hands to the small of your back. The other went to cup your hand in his. You giggled before moving to wrap your free arm around his shoulders, fingers tangling in the hairs at the nape of his neck as the two of you began swaying back and forth. Matt loosened his hold on your waist and moved to let you spin beneath his arm before pulling you back into his body and dipping you.

When Matt pulled you back upright you leaned up on your toes to press a kiss to his lips. Matt smiled against your lips. You stared into his eyes when you leaned away. His eyes were so beautiful. You never cared that his eyes didn’t see you the way yours saw him. He saw you in so many other ways.

“You really impressed them,” you said as you leaned closer to Matt, tucking your head against his neck.

“I told you moms like me,” Matt said.

“My dad liked you too though,” you said.

“Yeah,” Matt agreed. “We just can’t let him visit my office. He won’t be impressed anymore.” You chuckled.

“I certainly hope he won’t ever need a lawyer,” you said.

“If you hadn’t needed a lawyer we never would have met,” Matt reminded you.

“Yes, and that worked out very well,” you agreed. “But when we tell our kids how we met I think we should make something up.” Matt beamed.

“Our kids?” He asked. Your heart dropped for a moment and your face went blank.

“I mean, umm…” You started stuttering.

“We’ll have to get married first,” Matt interjected before you could start backpedaling. Your panic turned to excitement. You grinned.

“You obviously have my parents' approval now,” you said. Matt smiled.

“And you’ve certainly gotten Foggy’s approval,” Matt replied.

“Foggy likes me better than you,” you said with a laugh.

“Yes, I know,” Matt said flatly. “He’s very clear about that.” You held back your giggles.

“If you came into the office with cookies instead of bruises like me he might like you more,” you joked.

“I do bring in cookies,” he grumbled.

“Yes, but Foggy knows I made them,” you said. Matt sighed.

“He wouldn’t like me at all if I brought in cookies that I made,” he said. You giggled at the memory of Matt trying to make your birthday cake and causing the building to evacuate after setting off the smoke alarm.

“When we have kids I bet he’ll like them better than both of us,” you said. Matt smiled.

“That’s alright. We can use him as a babysitter that way,” he said.

“Maybe if Karen’s there too,” you said. Matt chuckled.

“You don’t trust Foggy with our kids?” He asked.

“Matty, you have told me far too many stories about you dragging Foggy back to your dorm after a frat party for me to trust Foggy with our kids,” you said. “He will most certainly let one of them do something stupid.”

“And you think I won’t?” Matt asked.

“You won’t let them do something stupid, you’ll do it for them,” you said. Matt spun you around in his arms once more as the song came to an end. He kissed your forehead when he pulled you back against him. Matt’s heart was full at the way the two of you were so casually talking about your kids. He hoped it wouldn’t be long till they were real. He knew what he wanted. He didn’t want to wait for it anymore. There wasn’t anything stopping him now.

“You want to go ring shopping tomorrow?”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x gn!reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x reader fluff #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock imagines #daredevil x reader #daredevil imagine #charlie cox x reader

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foldingfittedsheets · 2 months

Text

I remember the first time I got a missed connection. For those unfamiliar, Craigslist has a section that’s basically, “We met and I had a great time but I didn’t get your number.” I was unaware this existed until my coworker came in buzzing with excitement that I had a missed connection.

The post was along the lines of, “It was a hectic lunch rush and you were a friendly redhead who made us feel so welcomed.” It was definitely me. While the redness of my hair has been debated no one else on staff had any red at all.

The idea behind these missed connections is to reach out if you felt a spark too. I didn’t even remember the guy, but it was a nice flattering moment. My coworker evidently watched the page like a TV show, living vicariously and hoping to have a secret admirer of her own one day.

Several years passed and I was working at the sex shop. I was freshly dumped by my first girlfriend and feeling very lonely about it. I was working my shift alone in a dull haze when a guy came in. He greeted me and asked about toys.

I was showing him some when I noticed a sheikah eye of truth tattoo on the back of his hand. “Oh, I love Zelda!”

He looked surprised and we started chatting about it. He told me he wished he could play Twilight Princess but the Wii wasn’t accessible to him. That’s how long it took me to realize he only had one arm, and I just said that it was a bummer he couldn’t play that one and moved on.

We had a great conversation and I felt my spirits lifting as we chatted. I’d been so depressed and it was lovely to meet someone it was easy to talk to. He was right around my age and had the same taste in games.

He found a toy he liked eventually and left. A sudden conviction took hold of me. He was absolutely going to post a missed connection. That fun conversation is what straight people would consider flirting. I told my roommates when I got home and they rolled their eyes. But I was absolutely certain.

I refreshed the page every few hours, and sure enough, there it was. Honestly it does seem like a nicer way to drop a hint to a service worker than asking them out on the spot. He said to name his tattoo if it was me and I wanted to hit him up.

I responded to say that I was gay but that I’d love to hang out and play games, that I’d really enjoyed the conversation and it was the first bright spot I’d had in a while.

He never wrote back.

#ramblies #missed connections #it was a bummer at the time that he was just looking for a hook up and didn’t want to be my friend #ah well

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 4 months

Text

When The Clock Strikes Midnight.

my masterlist || ask me anything <3

authors note - hi, my last post of the year, i just want to wish everyone reading this a very happy new year and that everything turns out alright, tpwk and stay safe!!

this is a pretty angsty piece i would say, as it covers topics of alcoholism where reader struggles with her alcohol, so please if this sort of thing triggers you in anyway, please do not read and if you do, please proceed with caution.

word count - 3.9k

in which, you and harry broke up just over a year ago, and have not seen each other since, but when your friend invites you to a new years eve party with all your close ones there, the last person you expected to see walk through the door was him.

The last place you saw yourself tonight was here.

Your best friend Maura had practically dragged you out of the confines of your apartment when she heard that you didn’t have any plans for New Year’s Eve, and insisted that you dress up and come along to the party her boyfriend Watson was throwing.

You tried to deny her nagging and told her that you were going to order a takeaway, most likely Chinese and facetime your mum like you did last year, and that would be that.

But no…she wasn’t having any of it.

So you chucked on a jumper, which was on the nicer side and paired it with a skirt and tights and your vans before applying a tiny bit of mascara and lipgloss and brushing your hair, before you were ushered out of the house into the Uber Maura had ordered whilst you were getting ready.

So now, here you were.

You find yourself in a corner of Watson's living room at the party, nursing a glass of coke as people swirl around you in a lively dance of laughter and chatter. The pulsating music fills the room, but you, lost in your own thoughts, wonder why you agreed to come in the first place.

Maura's insistence was hard to resist, but your reluctance lingers like a shadow.

Despite the energetic atmosphere, you're content to sip your non-alcoholic beverage and observe the whirlwind of festivities. Maura and Watson seem immersed in the revelry, blissfully unaware of your desire for a more tranquil evening.

The room's vibrant energy contrasts sharply with your subdued mood, as you contemplate the impending arrival of the new year with a sense of detachment.

Watson, with a hint of tipsiness in his step, ambles over to you in the corner of the living room. His usual laid-back demeanour shines through, but the warmth in his eyes intensifies as he wraps an arm around your shoulder.

"Hey, you made it!" he exclaims, a wide grin on his face. Despite the slight wobble in his stance, you can't help but smile in response to his infectious enthusiasm.

Leaning in, Watson expresses genuine happiness that you decided to join the celebration.

"I'm so glad you're here, buddy. No one should spend New Year's Eve alone, right?" He punctuates his words with a friendly squeeze, and the camaraderie between you two, forged over the past six months since he began dating Maura, feels more like family than friendship.

In his slightly inebriated state, Watson plants a gentle kiss on the side of your head, a gesture that reflects the bond that has developed between you.

"You're like a little sister to me, you know that?" he chuckles, his words carrying a warmth that transcends the alcohol-induced haze. It's a testament to the solid foundation of your relationship, built on trust and camaraderie.

With a playful twinkle in his eyes, Watson decides it's time to shake off any lingering reservations you might have.

"Come on, let's hit the dance floor!" he declares, tugging you toward the centre of the room. The music's rhythm wraps around you both as Watson, with his signature charm, spins you into the lively dance.

Laughter and cheers surround you, and in this moment, you can't help but appreciate the unexpected joy that Watson has injected into your reluctant New Year's Eve.

As you sway to the music, Watson continues to share anecdotes and jokes, making the dance floor an extension of the bond you've formed. His boisterous laughter and the genuine joy in his expression erode any lingering doubts you had about attending. In the midst of the revelry, you realise that Watson's presence has transformed the night from an obligation into a shared celebration.

With each step and twirl, Watson's camaraderie becomes a comforting presence, and you find yourself immersed in the moment.

As you engage in conversation with Watson on the crowded dance floor, the doorbell unexpectedly rings, interrupting the lively atmosphere. Watson glances towards the entrance, a perplexed expression momentarily crossing his face.

"I'll be right back, just need to see who's at the door," he informs you, detaching from the dance momentarily.

Curiosity piqued, you nod and watch as Watson weaves through the festive crowd towards the entrance. The door swings open, and to your shock, your ex-boyfriend Harry steps into Watson's house.

They exchange greetings, and you can't help but wonder how they're connected. Watson glances your way, and you sense that he must have divulged your presence to Harry.

The room felt suffocating as you sat on Harry's sofa, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken tension. The air crackled with an impending storm, and you could sense that something was about to shatter the fragile peace that had held your relationship together.

Harry's eyes, once filled with warmth and adoration, now held a distant sadness. His fingers nervously played with the edge of his shirt, betraying the turmoil within.

"We need t’talk," he finally uttered, the weight of those words settling in the room like a leaden silence.

You looked at him, anxiety clawing at your chest.

"What's going on, H?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He took a deep breath, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting yours again.

"I've been thinking a lot, and... I think we need t’take a break," he confessed, each word hanging in the air like an unspoken truth.

The room seemed to tilt, the weight of those words crashing into you.

"A break? What do you mean?" Your voice wavered, a sense of dread settling in the pit of your stomach.

Harry's eyes welled with tears as he struggled to articulate the pain that lingered in his heart. "I can't give y’what y’deserve. M’career, the constant traveling , I can't be the best boyfriend f’you. Y’deserve someone who can be there f’you, not someone who's always halfway across the world."

More like you can’t give him what he deserves, your a mess, A drunken mess who can’t be trusted around a glass of wine or a gin and tonic.

It was your fault that he had had enough of the relationship, he was sick of looking after a girlfriend who couldn’t even look after herself, you weren’t what he wanted anymore and who could blame him?

You didn’t even want yourself anymore.

Your eyes mirrored the pain in his, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"But I don't want someone else. I want you," you pleaded, your heart breaking with every passing second.

He reached out, fingers gently wiping away your tears, a tender ache etched across his features.

"M’know, and s’why this hurts so damn much. I love you, but I can't watch y’waiting f’me all the time, feeling lonely. Y’deserve more than that."

The room echoed with the silence of shattered dreams as you both sat there, wrapped in the agony of an impending separation.

"I thought we could make it work," you whispered, your voice barely audible amidst the heartache.

Harry's voice trembled as he spoke, his eyes mirroring the anguish in your own. "I thought so too, but I can't keep asking you t’wait f’a future that's uncertain. It's not fair t’you."

The weight of the impending break weighed on you both, and the room became a crucible of emotions.

"I can't believe this is happening," you uttered, your voice catching on a sob.

Harry pulled you into an embrace, holding you close as if trying to memorize the feel of your presence.

"I never wanted to hurt you," he whispered, the words a fragile admission of the pain etched across his heart.

As the room witnessed the unraveling of your shared dreams, the tears flowed freely, and the echoes of a love that once burned bright now flickered in the dimming light of heartbreak. The sofa, witness to your shared laughter and whispered confessions, now bore the weight of an anguished goodbye.

"I thought we were stronger than this," you choked out, your words a desperate plea for reassurance.

Harry's response was a strained whisper, heavy with regret. "Love isn't always enough, and that's the hardest part to accept."

Your heart skips a beat as Harry's eyes sweep the room, eventually locking onto you. The unexpected encounter catches you off guard, and you feel a lump forming in your throat. Unsure of how to react, you instinctively turn I’m away, making a hasty retreat to the kitchen.

you navigate through the crowded kitchen, the echoes of the past still haunting the recesses of your mind. The room, once a sanctuary, now pulsates with the vibrant energy of the New Year's Eve celebration. As you lean against the counter, you attempt to catch your breath, the atmosphere thick with the weight of unexpected emotions.

The room is a sea of faces, laughter, and clinking glasses, but in this moment, you feel a profound sense of isolation. The air is heavy with the unspoken tension that lingers after encountering Harry, and you find solace in the rhythmic pattern of your own breaths. Each inhale and exhale becomes a deliberate act, a quiet rebellion against the memories that threatened to resurface.

Your eyes inadvertently gravitate towards a bottle of vodka on the crowded kitchen counter, a silent temptation beckoning from its transparent confines. The memories of your past struggles with alcohol loom heavily, each incident etched into your consciousness like a haunting refrain. The room pulses with celebratory energy, yet the familiar lure of numbing the pain through a drink threatens to unravel your hard-fought sobriety.

The bottle stands as a silent witness to the battles you've waged, a tangible reminder of the coping mechanism you once clung to in moments of despair. The urge to drown the resurgence of emotions triggered by seeing Harry again intensifies, as if the vodka holds the promise of temporary relief from the tumult within. However, the echo of past hospital visits, the panicked calls from Maura during Harry's tours, and the aftermath of your own struggles remind you of the high cost that accompanies each sip.

The sterile hospital room bore witness to your feigned slumber as Harry and the doctor engaged in a conversation that would forever echo in your memory. Their voices, a discordant symphony of concern, cut through the antiseptic atmosphere.

"You need to understand the gravity of the situation, Mr. Styles. Her liver is under immense strain," the doctor explained, the weight of the diagnosis evident in their tone. "Excessive alcohol intake has brought her here before, and if it continues, we risk irreversible damage."

Harry's voice, tinged with a mixture of fear and frustration, joined the conversation. "What can we do t’make her stop? This can't be good f’her, and I can't bear to see her like this again."

The doctor, ever composed, responded with a professional calm. "Encouraging her to seek professional help is crucial. She needs intervention and support to address the root causes behind her drinking patterns. This goes beyond just a medical issue."

Your heart sank as you lay there, eavesdropping on the conversation that underscored the depth of your struggle.

"She's in a dangerous cycle, and we need to break it before it leads to irreversible consequences," the doctor continued, the gravity of their words sinking in.

Harry, struggling to comprehend the severity of the situation, pressed for guidance. "What should I say t’her? How can I help her understand the impact of her actions?"

The doctor's response held a note of empathy. "Express your concern without judgment. Encourage her to seek counseling or join support groups. It's crucial that she feels supported and understood during this process."

As the dialogue unfolded, you grappled with a mix of emotions – shame, guilt, and the daunting realization that your actions were not only affecting you but those who cared about you.

The familiar pull of an old coping mechanism clashes with the resolve you've built over the past year. Without much thought, you lift the bottle, contemplating the relief it promises, only to freeze as a voice interrupts your inner struggle.

"Don't you dare take a sip from that bottle."

The words, stern and commanding, cut through the haze of your thoughts. You recognize the voice instantly, and a mixture of surprise and apprehension washes over you. Slowly, you turn around to face him, the bottle held in your hand like a delicate secret.

Harry stands there, his expression a mixture of concern and determination.

"You've come too far t’let this be y’undoing," he states, his gaze unwavering. The air between you hangs heavy with unspoken emotions as you contemplate his unexpected intervention.

Resisting the urge to avoid his gaze, you decide to walk past him, hoping to escape the confrontation. However, his hand closes around your wrist, preventing your departure.

"Let it go," he implores, his eyes searching yours for a hint of understanding. The bottle dangles between you, a tangible symbol of the inner turmoil that threatens to resurface.

In the charged silence, Harry's grip on your wrist feels both restraining and grounding.

"Y’don't need this, and y’know it," he adds, his voice softening. The vulnerability in his eyes mirrors the complex history you share, the wounds of the past laid bare in this unexpected moment of confrontation.

Glancing at the clock, you note the relentless ticking, each second stretching out like an eternity. Twenty minutes until midnight, and the anticipation of a fresh start intensifies. The atmosphere feels stifling as you wrestle with conflicting emotions, your hand still in Harry's grip. The unspoken tension lingers, and you decide that the arrival of the new year will also signal your exit.

Jerking your hand away from Harry's hold, you feel a surge of frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

"I can't do this anymore," you mutter, the anguished words hanging in the air between you. The clock's relentless countdown amplifies the urgency of the moment.

Turning to face him, you meet Harry's gaze with a steely resolve.

"I'm not a child. I can do what I want," you assert, the words carrying a weight that transcends the immediate situation. The bitterness in your voice mirrors the tumultuous emotions churning within.

Harry's expression shifts from concern to a mix of frustration and helplessness.

"This isn't about control, it's about caring," he argues, the lines of his forehead creasing with worry. The room feels smaller, the air thick with the unresolved tension of the past.

"I don't need your care," you snap, your tone cutting through the charged atmosphere. The proximity of midnight becomes both a countdown to liberation and a reminder of the constraints that linger. The resentment that simmers beneath your words reflects a deeper struggle against the shadows of a shared history.

You walk out of the kitchen, the bottle still in your hand, its cold surface a stark reminder of the internal struggle you've been wrestling with. Glancing down at it, you contemplate the temptation it holds. However, a determined sigh escapes your lips as you decide against taking that path. In search of solace, you spot Maura near the bathroom, engrossed in conversation with a friend.

As she notices you approaching, Maura ushers you over with a warm smile. The vodka bottle clinks softly, drawing her attention.

"You didn't, did you?" she asks, her eyes widening with concern. You hand her the bottle, and she gasps when she realizes its weight.

"I almost did," you admit, the honesty heavy in your words. "Seeing Harry after a year... it's just really hard, and I thought I needed something to take the edge off."

Maura's expression shifts from shock to a compassionate understanding. She places a comforting hand on your shoulder, leading you away from the commotion.

"You don't need to have a drink to feel something, darling," she reassures, her voice a soothing balm. "Facing those emotions is tough, but numbing them won't make them disappear. You're stronger than you think."

The weight of her words resonates, and you find a sense of grounding in Maura's wisdom.

"I just... I didn't expect it to hit me this hard," you confess, the vulnerability of the moment laid bare.

Maura nods, her empathy evident. "Love has a way of lingering, especially when there's history. It's okay to feel, even if it's painful. You've come so far, and I know you can navigate this without resorting to old habits."

As the clock ticks closer to midnight, Maura's words serve as a reminder that facing the emotions head-on is a strength, not a weakness.

The night air in the back garden carries a crisp chill, providing a respite from the crowded and charged atmosphere indoors. With just five minutes until midnight, you find solace in the quietude of the outdoors. The rustling of leaves and the distant hum of laughter create a backdrop for contemplation as you seek to contain the swirl of thoughts within.

The faint glow of string lights casts a gentle illumination, revealing a mosaic of emotions etched on your face. The weight of the past, the encounter with Harry, and the echoes of previous struggles converge in this moment of reflection. The cool breeze becomes a metaphorical breath, allowing you to exhale the complexities that have unfolded throughout the night.

Despite the passage of time, you find that lingering feelings persist, stubbornly anchored in the recesses of your emotions. The garden, illuminated by the soft glow of string lights, becomes a backdrop for a bittersweet revelation – you still carry a flame for him.

However, self-awareness prevails, and you acknowledge the undeniable truth that echoes in the quiet of the night. The person you once were, entwined with Harry in a different chapter of your lives, no longer aligns with the person he seeks now. The journey of growth and self-discovery has shaped you both in divergent ways, leading to an understanding that the path forward must be traversed separately.

With a deep breath, you accept the inevitability of change and recognize that clinging to what once was will only hinder your individual paths.

A subtle clearing of the throat interrupts your contemplation in the garden, prompting you to turn. To your surprise, Harry stands there with two glasses of lemonade, his expression softening as he offers them to you.

"Been looking f’you," he says, a hint of concern in his voice.

You accept the lemonade with a nod, appreciating the gesture even as the complexity of emotions lingers in the air.

"Just needed some fresh air," you reply, your gaze momentarily dropping to the glass in your hands.

Harry takes a seat on the concrete step next to you, the night air carrying a blend of both familiarity and unspoken tension.

"Mind if I join you?" he asks, and you find yourself hesitating before reluctantly nodding. The silence that follows is palpable, laden with the echoes of a shared history.

"I never thought I'd see you again after everything," Harry admits, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon. You sense a vulnerability in his tone, a shared acknowledgment of the complexities that led to your parting.

"Yeah, life takes unexpected turns," you respond, tracing the rim of your glass with your fingertips. The garden, once a haven for solitary reflection, transforms into an arena for the unspoken exchange between two people navigating the remnants of a connection.

Harry's gaze meets yours, and a soft smile plays on his lips. "I've missed this, y’know? Just talking like we used to."

The sentiment catches you off guard, and you muster a small smile in return. "Things change, Harry. We change."

Harry's admission hangs heavy in the air as he confesses,

"I've missed y’a lot. Every night before bed, you're all I think about." The vulnerability in his voice is evident, the weight of unspoken longing underscoring his words.

You take a moment, the weight of his confession settling in the quiet of the garden. With a sigh, you respond, "It was the right decision to take a break. I was a mess, and I wasn't what you wanted."

However, before you can elaborate, Harry interrupts, a furrow forming on his brow. "No, s’not why. I never once thought about breaking up with y’because of y’drinking problems. It was the constant leaving, the distance. I felt like I couldn't be the partner y’eeded."

His words catch you off guard, a mix of surprise and realization washing over you. The clarity in his confession adds a layer of complexity to the narrative you had constructed in your mind.

"I thought... I thought it was because of me," you admit, the vulnerability echoing in your own voice.

Harry reaches for your hand, a gesture that conveys both comfort and sincerity. "It wasn't about you. It was about me feeling like I couldn't be the best partner f’you. I should've communicated that better."

The garden, witness to the intimate exchange, becomes a space for newfound understanding. The dialogue unfolds, untangling the threads of misperception and unveiling the intricacies of the emotions that lingered beneath the surface. As the clock approaches midnight, the shared revelations become a poignant marker in the journey toward healing and clarity.

His thumb gently traces circles on the back of your hand as he continues, "I regret asking for that break. I didn't realize how much it would affect me, being without you. I've spent every night wondering if I made the right decision."

You meet his gaze, a mix of compassion and acceptance in your eyes. "H, it was the right decision for both of us. I was a mess back then, and I couldn't have given you what you needed. It wasn't just about the drinking; it was about me figuring myself out."

Hearing you call him by the familiar nickname of ‘H’ has his heart twitching beneath his rib cage, oh how he’s missed you calling him that.

He squeezes your hand, a silent acknowledgment of your words. "But not once did I think about ending things because of y’struggles. It was the constant coming and going, the uncertainty. I felt like I was leaving y’alone too often, and it wasn't fair t’you."

As the conversation deepens, the layers of misunderstanding peel away, revealing the raw authenticity beneath.

"I never wanted you t’feel like y’couldn't be yourself," Harry admits, a sincerity coloring his tone. "I should've communicated better, been more honest about how I was feeling."

It isn’t long before the people crowded inside the house start counting down from ten, only second away from being embraced by 2024.

“10…”

“9…”

Harry leans in close, his words a hushed confession, "I still love you."

“8…”

“7…”

Caught off guard, you turn to look at him, the sincerity in his eyes echoing the sentiments you thought were buried in the past. you find your voice, whispering amidst the cacophony, "I love you too."

“6…”

“5…”

The counting continues, a rhythmic backdrop to the shared revelation hanging in the air. In a moment of vulnerability, Harry's gaze lingers on yours.

“4…”

“3…”

And that’s when he musters up enough courage to ask for the first time in a year. "Can I kiss you?"

“2…”

“1…”

As the countdown approaches its climax, the world outside the window erupts in cheers.

In the final seconds, the clock striking midnight, Harry softly presses his lips against yours, a tender exchange that marks the inception of a new year and a rekindled connection, forged amidst the symphony of shared confessions and the promise of a fresh start.

And this all happened when the clock struck midnight.

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