#THE FACT THAT IN HIS FINAL MOMENTS IN THIS ARTWORK THERE ARE TEARS IN HIS EYES I'M H U R T | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fluffystuffies · 4 months

Text

New Installations [TSAMS]

Summary: Solar has been overworking himself and the Computer has had enough of it. Luckily, it has gathered some strategies on getting Solar to take a break. And the new limbs definitely help.

Words: 6385

Inspired by the amazing and adorable artwork by @lover-of-cuteness! Artwork being this lovely piece: https://www.tumblr.com/lover-of-cuteness/737495211989729280/figured-id-post-something-again-fuck-you?source=share

...so I decided to finally make a ticklefic-and this time with tsams!

I don't usually do these so I was kinda nervous making it-so there's like 2k words of exposition and an additional 1k of I guess buildup? So the tickling part doesn't start right away jfhsjfs-I've also only written these two briefly before so I hope I get them right jsfhs-

Anyways enjoy! :D

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It was probably common knowledge that headaches were meant to be a human thing. Especially headaches that derived from staring and squinting at screens for so long that it seemed like the words on the monitor were burned into the eyes of the person looking at it.

Solar was pretty sure he was the exception to that apparent rule. Or part of the group of exceptions with how many problems Sun and Moon dealt with on a near-daily basis.

At least for the moment, his was limited to his overuse of screentime. It even felt like the computer he was using was running slower.

He could feel the aching in his head getting worse by the moment, but he still couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen. It wasn’t like what he was working on was that important. It was just an automatic shelving system so he could stock the items behind the theater counter easier. Because apparently he was expected to use a ladder every time he needed to shelve something.

Of course, that meant he needed to make proper blueprints and work out any kinks that could result in the items rocketing out from behind the counter.

Again, it wasn’t a difficult project by any means. Solar had made much more advanced pieces of technology before.

It was more so the fact that he had been working on multiple projects in the same day and this was definitely past the fifth one of that day. So he should have expected the strain of having to make that many blueprints and adjust them as he saw fit.

But even so, his hands worked and typed of their own accord and the screen schematics ran past his vision at an almost sluggish rate. Sometimes he wondered if the workaholic part of his mind had spontaneously gained a sentient consciousness and forced his body to do ridiculous amounts of work against his body’s wishes to rest. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time an occurrence like that took place with the record of celestial-themed animatronics.

Something came into his vision.

Wait, what?

Solar blinked rapidly, then groaned as the object that interrupted his vision also interrupted the workzone that was preventing him from acknowledging his headache. He held a hand to his head as he closed his eyes, seeing faint images of numbers burn into his closed optics despite the fact that that shouldn’t have been physically possible.

Now to see what had come up in his vision.

Solar opened his eyes to the confusing sight of three…arms(?) dangling in front of his screen. Each arm had three, narrow-tipped fingers sprouting from the ends and appeared to be made of…well, something decidedly not metal, but metal-looking at the very least.

“What…?” Solar questioned quietly. Maybe he was working himself harder than he thought. Maybe he was looking at blueprints and mechanisms for so long he was starting to hallucinate them.

“Hello, Solar.” That was Spaniard.

“Computer?” Solar paused. “...can I ask what these things are?” He had been sitting down so he slowly got up, glad that being an animatronic meant less cramps and no muscles to even get sore. He tilted his head as he observed the arms.

“They are my new arms,” Spaniard responded, monotone as ever. Seemingly as a demonstration, the arms moved to make a waving motion after it spoke.

“Uh-huh. And where did they come from, if I might ask?” Solar was usually the mechanic who was called for these sorts of upgrades and unless he had a bout of amnesia, he didn’t remember installing any kind of arms for the computer.

“Moon gave them to me. He referred to them as a ‘Christmas gift’.” The arms performed ‘quotation mark’ motions with the last two words. “I have no desire for leisurely material possessions and my only purpose is to assist, so Moon decided to give me something that would allow me to physically assist you all.”

“So he gave you a Christmas present…sure, that checks out. But why am I only seeing you with them now?” Christmas had passed several days ago, so if Spaniard had received the arms on Christmas, then Solar should have seen them installed much sooner.

“Well, as I am sure you are aware, several events have transpired during and after Christmas that left Moon quite irritable. He did not have the functional and rational capacity to install them before now. I was not intending to bother him during that period of time,” Spaniard explained.

“So he only recently installed them?” Solar asked, walking around to the front of the desk and looking up. The arms seemed…rather long, going all the way up to the ceiling rafters much like Moon’s wire would if he ever used it. Which he didn’t.

“Correct.”

“You could’ve asked me to install them if Moon wasn’t in the mood to,” Solar told it. He was actually kind of confused that he wasn’t asked to install the arms. He was normally the animatronic everyone went to if they had a mechanical issue or if they needed something made.

“You do enough as is. I was not intending to bother you, either,” the Computer responded simply.

Solar huffed out a small laugh. “I am kind of the mechanic of this place. Wouldn’t be any different from anything else anyone’s had me do.”

“I stand by my point. You do enough. In fact, I interrupted you to…in vague terms, have you do…less of that.” Well, at least it made it clear that the phrasing was meant to be vague.

“You can just say it,” Solar said, putting one hand on the front of the security desk area. His other hand held his face. The headache was…going away somewhat. It was definitely still there, but it was letting up slightly. He was sure that meant something, but he wasn’t keen on admitting it.

“Very well. I interrupted you so you would take a break,” Spaniard replied bluntly. “You have been working for…” It paused as it probably calculated the time frame. “22 hours straight.”

“That’s pretty standard for me,” Solar mumbled to himself, knowing immediately after that that was most likely not the right thing to say.

“Many of the others have advised that you should integrate more breaks into your schedule,” the Computer stated, one of the arms moving downwards to type…something onto the keyboard.

“Yeah well, old habits die hard,” Solar said distractedly, leaning over the front of the desk slightly. “What are you doing?”

“Preparing for the shutdown of this program for the time being. I am saving it, so it will not erase your progress,” Spaniard told him.

Despite the assurance, Solar felt the smallest spike of anxiety shoot through him at the thought of the blueprints not immediately appearing in front of him when he would turn the computer on. He had worked for too long on those. “You don’t need to do that.”

“If I do not turn off the program now, you will not rest.”

“I don’t need to rest. The most I’d probably need is an occasional recharge,” Solar said, hoping that he wouldn’t have to admit that he hadn’t stopped to charge for the entire time he had been working.

“You have not taken the breaks to do that. And if I had not stopped you, you would have continued with that pattern.” Spaniard paused. “If I may ask, Solar, what is your battery percentage?”

“Can’t you just scan me and find that out?” Solar questioned, not wanting to admit that either.

“I want you to tell me.” Despite the fact that the Computer’s vocal tone hardly ever changed, Solar could sense the slightest hint of sass peeking through. To add to it, he looked up and saw two of the arms in a makeshift ‘crossed arms’ position.

Solar sighed, knowing that the Computer wouldn’t drop the topic even if he tried to change it. “...10%.” It wasn’t the lowest percentage he had gone down to in his workzone haze, but it certainly wasn’t high by any means. It would’ve probably been fine if he had a more upgraded body like Sun or Moon, but despite his own modifications, the body he had currently was still old. If he tried to get to the charging area in Sun and Moon’s room, he would most likely shut down before he reached it. And then he would have to wait for someone to find him before he could get back online again.

Spaniard did not speak for several seconds. And the arms did not move.

Solar could practically see the face of disappointment if the Computer had a face. But it didn’t and never had, so he settled on interpreting the attitude of the stilled arms.

“Look, even if I tried to go and charge, I wouldn’t make it up there anyways without shutting down first. So I might as well get those blueprints figured out while I’m down here.” Maybe Solar was just trying to find an excuse to keep working so he could finally finish that shelving mechanism, but if anyone asked, that wasn’t the case. Even if the headache was seemingly going away the longer he was distanced from that screen.

“I can carry you,” the Computer stated as if it were a normal, everyday statement for it to make. It was not.

In fact, Solar felt himself blink several times as his CPU attempted to catch up with the almost out-of-pocket statement the Computer had made. “You what???” he questioned incredulously.

“I have arms now. And they can travel throughout the daycare, including into Sun and Moon’s room. So I am able to carry you up to the balcony if need be,” Spaniard explained, which only made the idea slightly less odd. “Would you be alright with that?”

“Uh.” Solar hesitated. He…wasn’t entirely sure how that would look and he wasn’t keen on being cradled like a baby or carried like an eagle’s fresh kill. But…if it meant he would be able to charge sooner and not have to wait for someone to find his lifeless body to get back to work, then he…supposed he could deal with it. “Sure? I guess?”

“Very well,” the Computer replied, the arms moving forward and pausing once they were within Solar’s reach.

Solar was about to question the hesitation before two of the arms suddenly grabbed onto his sides, stopping any words that might have escaped in that moment. He felt himself tense up a considerable amount as he struggled not to make any loud vocalizations.

“Are you alright, Solar?” Spaniard asked. Of course it would have noticed the sudden tenseness.

Solar took a breath to calm his voice. “...yeah. Fine.”

“...is this position uncomfortable for you? I can adjust if need be,” the Computer offered, lightening its grip slightly.

“No, it’s-it’s fine. It just feels weird is all. Do whatever you want.” Any other position would just be awkward, unless the Computer decided to lift him by his arms. Yes, he was ignoring the feeling and he was not going to address it.

“Very well.” Spaniard assumed its tighter grip on Solar’s sides. And maybe he was being a little paranoid, but he could have sworn it paused a little too long when he flinched at the contact.

Then the arms lifted him up, causing his shirt to bunch up slightly, and it wasn’t long before he was being rather unceremoniously dropped onto the balcony.

Solar grunted as he stumbled slightly upon landing. “Thanks for that…” he muttered, smoothening out his shirt and moving over to the plugin area while keeping an eye on his draining battery.

“I apologize, Solar. I have not had time to properly adjust to my new arms,” Spaniard responded, somehow sounding apologetic despite its lack of tonal change.

“Yeah. Fair enough, I guess,” Solar replied as he fumbled to plug himself in. Once he did, he looked up towards the balcony to see if the Computer’s arms would slither their way through the entrance. His assumption was proven incorrect when the arms came in through corners in the room’s ceiling, one arm for each corner. Which meant that there was now another arm.

“How many arms do you have?” Solar questioned. For some reason, there was a pit of…nervousness(?) in his stomach region at the thought of there being that many mechanical arms coming through the ceiling. Nervousness???

Maybe it was a phobia thing. Or whatever.

“I have four in total,” Spaniard told him simply. “I do not believe I need more than that.”

“Alright…” Solar acknowledged, allowing the conversation to end there unless the Computer wanted to continue it.

And turns out, it did.

“After you have completed your charging cycle, are you going to take a break?” Aaand of course they were back to this.

“Isn’t this already a break of sorts?” Solar questioned, watching his percentage go up minute by minute. He was just glad his battery seemed to charge quicker than it drained.

“No. This is a charging cycle. This does not constitute as a break,” Spaniard said.

“I’m not working.”

“Correct. But you are planning to return to what you were doing directly after this charging cycle,” the Computer stated, not leaving any room for a question to be squished in.

Solar hesitated. He had been planning to go and finish the blueprints at the very least. “...yeah?” he told it despite that. “Why does this matter to you so much?”

The Computer seemed to pause slightly before speaking. “I have observed you over the course of several days and I have concluded that your work schedule is…unhealthy. And if I am not mistaken, your headache has lessened in your time away from work, which only proves my point.” How did-?

“So now you decide to scan me.”

“I have scanned you in both instances. I simply wanted you to relinquish some of your stubbornness in the first case.”

“I’m not that stubborn.”

“Yes, you are.”

Solar sighed. He had nothing to say in his defense to that.

“I am simply…concerned. I insist that you take a break.” Well, it was clear that the Computer was not going to drop the subject. “If it helps, it would be beneficial in the long-run for future work.”

“Look, I can take a break after I finish working out any issues with the blueprint I was working on,” Solar offered as a compromise in the hopes that the Computer would take it and let him work. The concern was…confusing. Sweet, but confusing. He knew that was probably due to…some kind of trauma or whatever, but still confusing.

Spaniard didn’t respond immediately. “...Solar, if you do not take a break after your charging cycle has completed, I will have to use…unorthodox methods to get you to do so.” Wait, what???

Solar lifted his arms slightly, unsure if he meant to position them in a defensive manner or not. “...what do you mean ‘unorthodox’?” he questioned, nervousness lightly breaking his tone.

“Do not worry, Solar. I promise I did not mean that in a threat of harm. If you wish, I can tell you what I intend to do,” the Computer amended.

Solar glanced at his percentage, finding it to be at a decent amount. Still, he wouldn’t move until it was done. The Computer would see to that as well.

He considered what the Computer said. Then sighed. “...yeah. Sure.” He glanced at the arms stationed around the room, noting that they were all facing his direction. He felt another firecracker of nervousness set itself off in his stomach region. He wasn’t sure if it was good or bad (it felt…more ‘good’ than not).

“Very well. I have observed some of your sessions as well as your talks with Earth about your exposure to positive touch.” Solar felt the nervousness increase when he heard that. Though, now that he was thinking about it…it was probably more akin to ‘anticipation’ than direct ‘nervousness’. “I have also noted Earth’s methods when enacting this prospect upon you-”

“Can you just say it already?!” Solar burst out, then instantly felt guilty. “...sorry.”

“Well, it would appear that you are already aware of my plan, so there is no need to elaborate further.” Was the Computer…teasing him???

“Oh, you-”

“It is your choice, Solar. Either you take a break, or I enact my ‘unorthodox’ method.” As if on cue, the fingers of the arms clawed the air in front of Solar a few times. “Though I have–as they say–a ‘feeling’ of what you will choose.”

Solar felt himself curl up ever so slightly at the sight of the arms. Ah…so that’s what that was.

“I will wait,” the Computer stated, almost smugly.

And then Solar was forced to wait as his battery gradually charged itself, getting closer and closer to fullness.

Well…the Computer planned to tickle him until he took a break. That was–

Solar forced down the anticipatory shudder that would have run through him the more he thought about it. Though he knew Spaniard probably sensed it. And would be looking smugly at him if it had a face.

It wasn’t like he was…against it. He had had some sessions with Earth on it after his initial overwhelmed reaction to Lunar tickling him the first time and she had gently introduced him to it until he was used to it. Something with ‘knismesis’ or whatever. After that, well…he had been more involved with it, but definitely not all that much. Really only Earth had done it on occasion (he suspected that Lunar stopped because of his previous reaction, which he still felt kind of guilty about).

But he definitely wasn’t against it.

…which was embarassing as all hell.

And he knew the Computer knew it as well.

Which was probably why every few seconds, the fingers of the arms would move slightly to grasp at the air, sometimes even coming a little closer to him. And Solar felt himself die just a little, tiny bit on the inside when he flinched at the actions.

And while his imagination wasn’t the greatest at times, for some godforsaken reason, it was reeeal easy for him to imagine those narrow-tipped fingers scribbling and clawing at his sides and back while he-

He groaned, extending his charging cord just slightly as he covered his face and practically slid down the wall behind him like some kind of cliche movie scene.

“Is something wrong, Solar?” Spaniard asked and–oh, the little shit knew what it was doing. To make matters worse, it decided to wiggle its fingers right as Solar peeked through his hands to look. “I have not touched you yet.” The ‘yet’ part was not helping.

“...I’m fine,” Solar muttered quietly. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Of course you do. And based on my recollections of your sessions with Earth, you are already attempting to…predict my methods.” If the Computer had a proper laugh, Solar was positive it would be chuckling at him. “So I am not surprised that it does not take much.” It paused. “What is your percentage?”

“You know what it is,” Solar grumbled while glancing at his battery life.

“I want you to tell me.” The arms once again inched closer, one getting much closer much quicker than he thought and making him flinch violently. He was going to ignore the strangled noise that he made in response to it, choosing instead to glare at the offending limb.

Solar shuddered, then grumbled. “...72%,” he muttered.

“Then it would appear you have some time left to think on my advice,” Spaniard said simply. “...or think on other things. I know which one you are doing.”

“Shut up,” Solar groaned, bringing a hand to his face. “And stop doing that.”

“You will have to be more specific, Solar,” the Computer said, the smug bastard. As it spoke, it brought one of its arms closer to Solar’s face while wiggling its fingers, making him move his head away. “I cannot answer if you do not specify.”

“Y-yes, you can,” Solar responded with a brief stutter, which he mentally slapped himself for.

“No, I cannot. I am afraid you will have to be more specific. And I will need details, of course. I want you to tell me exactly what I am doing so I can be more helpful in my response.” There was definitely more smugness in that statement than not.

“You don’t need that,” Solar said a little too quickly for his liking. He was not specifying shit. “I don’t need to tell you anything.”

“Then I cannot stop what you want me to stop. Whatever it may be, it will continue to happen,” Spaniard replied with an air of casualness as it continued to wiggle and scratch and claw at the air around Solar, seemingly getting closer with every motion.

And good God, was his endurance for it dwindling.

He had never had this much…anticipation targeted at him all at once. Earth at least been…well, quick with what she planned to do. She never made him wait long.

But this? This was torturous.

His endurance was getting so low that the next time the arms came too close, he felt laughter that had already been bubbling up inside of him burst out. A loud, raspy burst of laughter.

Well. He wanted to die then and there.

The Computer actually seemed to pause at that–and dear God, did that not help at all. “...I have not touched you.” It sounded like more of an observation than a tease. “...that is intriguing.”

“Th-there’s nothing to be ‘intrigued’ about, trust me,” Solar said in an attempt to distract the Computer from its own processing unit. Which was…admittedly impossible. He wasn’t sure why he even tried.

“...what is your percentage?” Spaniard asked, not directly responding to Solar’s words.

And Solar knew what kind of response he would get if he asked why the Computer didn’t just use its scans of him.

He paused as he glanced at his percentage. “...99%.” How long had the Computer been-?!

…he was starting to regret the charging upgrade he gave himself, if only for this moment.

“Well then…have you made your decision, Solar?” Spaniard asked, almost innocently despite his knowledge that it was being anything but that.

Despite literally being threatened with tickles until he took a break throughout his entire charging process…Solar returned back to his previous compromise. “L-look, I just need to finish the blueprints for the shelving unit and then I’ll take a break.” He then unplugged himself from the wall.

If the Computer had more advanced forms of vocal expression, then it probably would have sighed or hummed. Instead, all it said was, “Incorrect answer, Solar.”

And it was then that the arms finally ceased in their teasing charade and attacked Solar.

“WaitwaitWAHEHEHEHEHEHEIT-” Solar burst out as two of the arms came to his sides and began clawing and scratching as they had done previously to the air and–oh God, the sharper fingers were so much worse than he thought.

“I think you have had enough ‘wait’ time, Solar. You chose this, as suspected.”

“IHIHIHI SAHAHAHAHAHAHAID I WOULD TAKEABREAHAHAHAHA-” Solar was cut off by a much more intense bout of laughter as one of the arms found one of his rays, scritching rapidly and continuously at it. “NOHOHOHOHO-TOOHOHO MU-HAHAHAHA-” Thanks to Earth, he had learned pretty early on that his rays were a really fucking bad spot. He grabbed onto the arm in an attempt to make it stop, but he only succeeded in holding onto it as the three arms continued to tickle their chosen spots.

“Oh, my apologies.”

The arms suddenly let up slightly, though they didn’t move at all from their places. Now it wasn’t as intense, but it still tickled.

“I forgot you are only used to prolonged exposure to gentler tickles. I will try not to remain intense the entire way through.”

“Yohohohohou caHAHAn’t fohohohorgehehehet like thahahahat,” Solar protested slightly, laughter only rising in pitch when the fingers on his ray sped up momentarily.

“Perhaps. Perhaps I simply wanted to test for myself. But I am sure you did not mind.”

“I dohohohohohon’t knohohohow whahahat yohoHOHOu’re tahahahalking abOAHAHAHAHOHOHOHOHOUT-snort-NAHAHAH-” Solar felt one arm sneak its way up the back of his shirt while the Computer had been talking, feeling narrow fingers run up and down his spine, all whilst they wiggled lightly with each movement.

“From what I am understanding, this is another quite sensitive spot for you. Not that you have many that are not.”

“Shuhuhuhuhuhut uhuhuUHUHAHAHAP! STAHAHAHAHA-snort-HAHA-” He snorted once again as his eyes squeezed shut. The arm tickling his back continued its assault as the two on his sides seemed to pause. Then one of them moved upwards on his left while the other moved down on his right and–oh.

If he wasn't snorting with laughter before, he definitely was now.

The upper arm now had its claws under his arm and through the sleeve of his shirt, gently scribbling at the space where part of his endoskeleton was exposed between his body and his upper arm. “Nohohononono-snort-HOHOHO-” He then tried to grab the arm that was attacking his own, only to have the arm that had been previously tickling his back retreat from his shirt and grab his own before he could. Then his arm was stretched above his head, giving the Computer’s own arm full access to his armpit. “-snort-NAHAHAHAHOHOHOHOHOHOHO-”

“Thank you for the access.”

Despite the tease, Solar felt the fingers on his ray let up and the lower arm remain still. Then he felt another set of fingers join the one on the left, targeting the more exposed side alongside his armpit. Now he had fingers doing the same thing that had been done to his back, wiggling up and down his side all while another set was still scribbling almost delicately at his pit.

Now Solar knew why the Computer had stopped the other attacks on his body because this combination tickled more than he thought he was ready for.

“THIHIHIHIHIHIHIS ISN’T NE-HAHAHAHAHA-NEHEHEHEHECESAHAHAHARY!!”

“It is if it means you are to take a break.”

“I DOHOHOHOHOHON’T NEHEHEHEHEEHEHEHEEEK-! NEHEHEHEED ONE! I JUHUHUHUHUST NEHEHEHEHEHEHEED TO CHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHARGE!!” Solar protested, refusing to admit that he squealed when the arm on his side began a sort of squeezing action, moving its fingers in little swirly motions with each prolonged squeeze. His legs began sliding back and forth to his person on the floor, not quite kicking but not quite not.

The fingers suddenly slowed in their motions, giving Solar a small break as his prevously loud laughter was reduced to raspy giggling.

“I thought we had established that charging did not count as a break.”

“Ahahahahand I thohohohohohohought I saheheheheid thahahahat I wohohohohohohould take a breheheheheak lahAHAHater,” Solar responded as best he could with the ticklish sensations still covering his left side.

“And I thought you were aware that I intended for you to take a break imminently. It would appear there was quite a lot of miscommunication between us. Regardless, I am not hearing a ‘I will take a break now, Computer’, so I see that I will have to continue my persuasion method.”

“Yohohohohohohu dohohohohohon’t neheheheheheed t-mmhehehehehe-” Solar began, then cut off his words to be replaced with mindless giggling. He wasn’t sure why he di-actually, he knew exactly why, but he wasn’t going to admit that to himself. Instead, he just let the arms continue their gentle swirling motions on his casing and endo.

“Care to repeat that, Solar?”

“Mmehehehehe…nohohohoho…” No way in hell he was going to repeat anything that would dig him a deeper embarrassed hole than he had already made in his mind.

And…he was starting to feel strangely relaxed now that the more intense tickling had ceased. The circular actions felt more…soothing now than anything else.

…God, even that was embarrassing to admit to himself.

“Oh. I was under the impression that you were about to take my advice. That is quite a shame. I suppose you will need more persuasion then.”

Solar felt the arms leave him aside from the one still holding his arm up (though now it was more so simply holding it rather than forcing it upwards). For a moment, he felt strangely…disappointed(?) as he opened his eyes slightly while his giggling continued.

Then the odd disappointment vanished when the other arms returned, this time aimed towards his face and head. He flinched when one set of fingers began lightly scratching at one of his rays, setting off a more intense bout of giggles. They just increased when more fingers found the moon side of his face and began scribbling at his chin and cheek area.

Solar instantly started squirming much more than he was before, all while giggling and throwing his head around as if that would get rid of the ticklish sensation. “Whahahahahat-why thehehehehehehere?”

“I simply wanted to test a theory. And I was proven correct.”

“Whahahahahahahat theheheheheheheheheory???” While this tickling definitely was a lot less intense than before, it was almost just as bad with how borderline anticipatory the gentler tickles were. Not to mention, he felt like laughter was leaving his mouth more than words were.

“Moon has the same set of reactions when this area is tickled and I was wondering if you shared the same mannerisms. Which you do. It is quite amusing.”

Solar wasn’t even sure if the Computer was teasing him at that point or if it was simply making observations, but either way he couldn’t help the embarrassment that coursed through him at those words. “Ihihihihi dohohohon’t thihihihihihihnk sohoHOHOHOhohoho…” He thrashed his head around again when the arm focused on his face began gently circling his cheek, setting off another clump of giggles.

“Well, I do. And in our current situation, I believe I hold the higher power here. So I am not counting your opinion.”

Solar felt the scribbling on his ray increase in speed momentarily, ripping a surprised hiccup out of him accompanied by slightly louder laughter. “NahahaHAHAHA-”

“It would appear that you also share some traits with Sun, which would also make sense.”

Good God, this was torturous.

“Cahahahan yohohohohohou stahahahahahahahap?!” Solar pleaded, feeling the fingers slow down once more and leaving that absolutely torturous feeling of having one of his worst spots and one of his milder spots being tickled at the same intensity. Which wasn’t a lot.

“I am afraid I do not know what you mean. Once again, I implore you to be more specific, Solar.”

“Stahahahahahahap t-mhmehehehehe-dohohohohoing thahahahahahat so lihihihihihightly!” Solar cursed his strange inability to say the word ‘tickle’ in most situations. He had never been sure as to why, but he always felt a little too much embarrassment when attempting to say it, so he usually stopped himself before he did. Maybe it was the childishness of it or maybe it was just the embarrassment and flusteredness of being the target of that word. He wasn’t sure but it was hard for him to say it before and it was hard for him now.

“I am afraid I did not quite hear that, Solar. Please repeat yourself. Clearer this time, if you will.”

“I juhuhuhuhuhust wahahahahahant yohohohohohohohohou to stahahahahap ti-mhehehehehe…” Solar used his other hand to try and cover his face, forcibly pushing off the arm of the Computer so he could do so. It didn’t stop that arm from finding another tickle spot, this time lightly wiggling its fingers on his stomach region. “I cahahAHAHAHAhahahahahan’t…”

“Well, I would say you can, but from what I have seen from your sessions with Earth, along with other recordings, you appear wholly incapable of saying the word ‘tickle’ in any circumstance. So I suppose I can grant you the smallest fraction of mercy in that regard. In everything else, however, I will not.” It paused. “Unless, of course, you tell me you will take a break.”

“Ihihihihi alreheheheheheheady sahahahaid I wohohohohohould!”

“Now?”

“...mgehehehehe…” Solar knew it was probably a mistake not to respond but…

“That was not a ‘yes’.”

Solar let out a loud burst of laughter when the wiggling of the fingers on his stomach turned into rapid clawing and the ones on his ray shift to wiggling into his neck. Then he felt the arm holding his own let go and the other arm both grab onto his hips and begin squeezing.

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAOHOHOHOHO-WAIEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHET-I DIHIHIHIHIDN’T-” Solar absolutely cackled at the multiple spots being viciously targeted at once, using both of his free hands to grab at the two attacking his hips, but ultimately being unable to do anything as he simultaneously tried to hunch his shoulders and prevent the one from tickling his neck.

Eventually, he just leaned to the side in an attempt to lessen the intensity of the tickles he thought he was going to be able to handle (and as it turns out, he was not). This led to him falling on his side, which did nothing to stop the Computer in its focused tickle attack. In fact, due to one of the sets of fingers on his hips being somewhat crushed, he felt the other ones seemingly try to make their chosen spots tickle more. Now the claw on his stomach began a set of squeezing motions, stopping occasionally to dig its narrow fingers at individual speeds on any part of the area they could. And the one on his neck didn’t let him get used to one area being attacked, wiggling and scribbling momentarily at one point then abruptly stopping and changing spots.

He then rolled onto his back and tried to hug himself, which he wasn’t sure what would accomplish in that moment. All he knew was that it tickled and he needed to do something with his hands. His legs were already doing enough with how much stomping they were doing.

“COHOHOHOHMPUHUHUHTER!”

“Yes, Solar?”

“STAHAHAHAHAHAP! LESS! LEHEHEHEHEHESS!”

Immediately, Spaniard ceased most of the tickles, removing two arms and moving the other two to lightly vibrate on his sides and good God why was that a feature???

“NeheheheHAHAHA-Ihihihihihimm…mehehehehehe…” Solar found himself unable to think of any proper wording in his situation. Worse of all, he began hiccuping in laughter again, ending a couple with a squeak if the lightly squeezing and rapidly moving fingers happened to hit a particularly sensitive spot.

“I think I have made my point,” Spaniard said in what was most definitely a smug tone. “I have also noticed that you have taken multiple alternate avenues to have me continue tickling you. I believe you also continued being stubborn so this would occur.”

“Nnnohohohoho…thahahahat’s nahahahahat whahahahat I meheHEHEHEheheant…”

“It is exactly what you meant. And it was also expected.”

“Nahahahohoho…” Good God, even if it wasn’t that bad, Solar could still feel the ghostly tickles doing their jobs on the parts of him that had already been attacked, leaving him sensitive and anticipating any other tickles.

The Computer seemed to pause, then Solar felt the arms retreat, in which he immediately melted onto the floor, rolling over onto his stomach and just…laying there. He was still giggling, still feeling the ghosts of the tickles from before, but eventually he was able to recover enough for them to leave him almost completely.

Then he sighed and lifted himself up to sit on his knees. He felt the familiar heat of embarrassment kick into his systems as he curled up slightly, leaning back into the wall.

“So…once again, I believe I have made my point clear?” This time, the statement was phrased as a question.

Solar sighed again, grumbling to himself. “Y-yeah. Sure. You made your point or…whatever,” he muttered, the flustered feeling not leaving.

“I can still very well continue if I have not made myself clear.” The Computer brought up its arms once more and flexed its fingers.

Solar flinched, leaning further into the wall and hugging himself. “Uh-no, I think we’re alright.” Then he paused as he realized something. “I…didn’t agree to what you wanted me to.”

“I am aware. However, I have forced you to take a break with this chain of events, so to speak. And I know that now you are more tired than not.”

That was…true. Solar could still feel his fans on high-blast in an attempt to cool his body down and despite charging beforehand…he could admit he felt tired. “Hm. So that was your plan all along.”

“Correct. And as I calculated, it worked. I win.”

Solar chuckled. “You ‘win’?” he questioned.

“Yes. I win. And as a bonus, you had fun as well. We both win.”

Solar let out a choked noise, then groaned and thunked his head on the wall behind him, closing his eyes. “Shut up,” he grumbled out.

“I have this event recorded should you need evidence of my claim.”

Solar’s eyes then snapped open at that, stiffening and sitting up straight. “You what?!” he exclaimed. Did-did the Computer plan to use that as blackmail??? He groaned, covering his face. “Please don’t show that to anyone. Neither Moon nor Lunar will let me live that down…”

“Do not worry. It is part of my personal folder for my own observations. And as a reminder of what will happen if you decide to overwork yourself in my presence and do not take my advice.”

“Okay, okay! I got it…” Solar slowly slid his hands off his face, sighing and staring at the couch in the room. He knew that he could very well walk over to the couch and lay down but he was tired. “The others probably won’t like it if I decide to sleep here. But whatever. I’m tired.”

“...I can carry you,” Spaniard offered in a wonderful bout of deja vu.

Solar huffed out an amused laugh. “Sure, Computer. And why don’t you tuck me in while you’re at it?” he joked lightly.

“As you wish.”

Solar felt the arms lift him again, this time in a more…cradled fashion. He watched with lidded eyes as another arm went…somewhere and returned with…a blanket.

“Wait, Computer, I was joking-I was joking, Computer!”

“I am aware. I am playing a joke of my own. Suffer.”

And Solar just groaned and laid back, accepting his fate of being tucked in by a goddamn computer.

#fluffy writes! :D #fnaf tickles #tsams tickles #sun and moon show tickles #lee!solar #ler!computer #ler!spaniard #sfw tickling community #sfw tickle fic #do not tag as ship #if anyone decides to do that in any capacity #a lot of this also took inspiration from sunset's hcs that they showed me #also if you recognize my writing style from anywhere no you don't sjsjjfs

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hgejfmw-hgejhsf · 5 months

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WIP Wednesday!

Look at me, throwing my proverbial hat into the ring in the afternoon rather than like an hour before the day ends! For those of you that saw THAT artwork today, you know why the hat reference is suddenly so important.

Okay, okay, so the time I haven't spent staring at THAT artwork is time I spent writing today, working on one of my fics for the New Traditions advent calendar event put on by @rwrbprompts, @just-sarah--things, and @sparklepocalypse! Sooooo because this fic is going to undoubtedly be the longest I have ever published, I'm going to give y'all the longest WIP Wednesday snippet I've ever made!

Many thanks to @suseagull04, @kiwiana-writes, @leaves-of-laurelin, @littlemisskittentoes, @anincompletelist, @inexplicablymine, and @happiness-of-the-pursuit for the tags this week! I'm super excited to share what I've been working on, and I especially can't wait for the big reveal!

Henry hustles to the door to snag June’s bags from her grasp, disappearing once more down the hallway to deposit them in her room. Alex’s heart squeezes in his chest at the sight of something as simple and entirely uncomplicated as his boyfriend helping his sister with her bags. But for them, it's a simple and entirely uncomplicated act that they fought for with all they both had to give: tears mixing with rainwater outside looming castle walls, two bodies swaying slowly together alongside unmoving statues in the manifestation of what was once an impossible childhood dream, an image broadcast around the world through the lens of a single piece of cold glass and a speech drafted with the utmost care, that told the story of a love that would go down in history. But now, long after the rain and tears have ceased to fall, the childhood dream now fulfilled, and the cameras shut off and the lights extinguished, these are the moments he knows they were fighting for. The chance of a life, as Henry once told him. A life they are now living, unapologetically and truthfully, just as they had dared to hope for. “Earth to Alex,” June says as Alex blinks and suddenly finds himself in his sister’s embrace, one of her hands ruffling his curls. “Sorry,” he offers sheepishly. “Having a thought.” “About what?” Henry asks as he strolls back down the hallway in his red and green striped Christmas socks, having kicked off his shoes at some point in the transit of June’s luggage. Alex holds out his hand for Henry to slip his own into as he toes out of his shoes and kicks them towards the mat next to the door, his green and red polka dot socks now on full display beside Henry’s. “My other family. They’re gonna be pissed I missed Christmas this year to spend it with y’all,” Alex says matter-of-fact, as Henry chuckles softly, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners before he flips a switch, mock solemnity overtaking his expression. “Ah, well. I suppose they’ll simply have to take you for New Year’s then.” Henry starts back into the kitchen, his fingertips sliding slowly out of Alex’s grip until Alex curls his tightly, wrapping them around Henry’s and yanking him back into his chest, leaving them a breath apart. “Not a chance. I owe you a midnight kiss,” Alex says, each syllable a featherlight brush of his lips against Henry’s. The scent of grass and fresh linens overtakes him, even in the dead of winter, and he inhales long and slow and deep, letting it fill him up. “Didn’t we have one last year?” Henry quips, his tongue lingering on the “l” sound as he licks ever so slightly against Alex’s mouth. “And the year before, of course,” he adds, his cheeks warming. “Yeah, well I’m a selfish bastard. I want all of the years we both have left,” Alex says, finally closing the already limited distance to press their lips together. He licks into Henry’s mouth immediately as Henry’s hand snakes its way up and into the curls at the nape of his neck. It’s slow, tongues lingering and teeth tugging at a half-paced rhythm to their typical hurried encounters, as if they both can see all of the years of their lives stretching out before them in an endless path of lazy mornings, blissful nights, and every blessed hour in between.

Gonna throw some tags out there for @sparklepocalypse, @daisymae-12, @ssmtskw, @whimsymanaged, @indestructibleheart, @rockyroadkylers, @heybuddy-drabbles, @vanillahigh00, @ships-to-sail, @oneofthewednesdays, @affectionatelyrs, and @statueinthestonetoo

#wip wednesday #my fics #my wips #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfic #rwrb fanfiction #firstprince #rwrb #firstprince fic

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wordsandrobots · 2 months

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Falling for a Fool: Afterword

A confession: I cannot get through episode 45 of Iron-Blooded Orphans, properly, without coming to the verge of tears. I have discovered that if I turn the sound off, I can make it about as far as the back half of episode 46 without that happening. Which made it a lot easier to take screenshots, but it still got me, in the end.

And that's exactly why I fell in love with this show.

It's trite, but I think everyone should have the chance to be moved by something, whatever it is and wherever it comes from. Stories, all artworks in fact, are there to make us feel something. To convey emotion and meaning, to play on the keyboard of our minds and allow us to hallucinate meaningful things in safety. A couple of years back, the thing that moved me was an anime about child soldiers in space, produced to sell model kits. It worked. I did buy a lot of model kits. I also got to have my emotions twisted to bits by a superbly crafted tragedy.

I can wax lyrical about the technicalities of that process. I can do the writerly bit, as I've said before, of pulling apart the mechanics of how this show works and why it hits me so hard. That doesn't change the fact it *does* hit me, hard, and that's why I've spent my time since first watching it writing so much about it. It was exactly what I needed to see, when I saw it, and the inspiration it has given me has been absolutely wonderful.

I guess the reason I decided to run back through the imagery of the series, and specifically that concerning Yamagi and Shino's relationship, is that I wanted to check my working. I'm nearly at the end of the huge story I developed off the back of my first fanfic for IBO, the culmination of two and a half years of work. When I post it, likely at the start of August 2024, I will have approaching 650,000 words worth of 'here's how I would do a follow-up' on Ao3. That's a lot. For me, it's a hitherto unheard-of amount of consistent work.

Yet it started, very simply, with this: how do you save Shino?

Because the end to his arc in the show is a moment of deliberate pointlessness. It's got to be, for the narrative to work. But I have a soft heart and more than that, I'd fixated on what precedes the failure of Shino's daring gambit. Those scenes between him and Yamagi throughout episode 45 and the fundamental, unintentional cruelty of asking someone who adores you to enable what is, however much it wasn't supposed to be, your suicide run.

There are any number of ways to save Shino, in the sense of imagining he wasn't actually dead when Flauros was blown off into space in the next episode. It's easy! But which option allows one to best drill into what he and Yamagi are to each other, in that moment where he finally demonstrates he isn't the totally oblivious himbo after all? What is the method that allows them to come together again, not as comet and tail, but something more equal? Something that, rather than just clicking one's fingers and declaring, 'all is well', admits to everything dire and disturbing about Tekkadan.

Because those things are the point. And to me, they are vital to my love of the original work.

So. My apologies for a couple of days of scab-picking on main. I needed it, I think, to look back and see that, yes. What I have done follows (in my own mind at least) from what's on-screen. As much as my fic is essentially a work of reconstruction -- of redeeming love from hopelessness -- the heart of it remains full of rust and sharp fragments, of blood and pain, and a bitter understanding that the world does not care about you in the slightest.

And that the point is to care anyway.

#gundam #gundam iron blooded orphans #gundam ibo #g tekketsu #tekketsu no orphans #norba shino #yamagi gilmerton #yamagi x shino #fanfic #my fic #ao3 fanfic #spoilers #major spoilers

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konohamaru-sensei · 4 months

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"I've loved you three summers now, but I want them all." | Aori X Fatgum

Merry Christmas @kankuroplease / @xxcinnaxx <3 Thank you so much for your friendship, your insight into art, the fact that we can rant about anything, create Au's about everything and your wonderful oc's . I feel very lucky to have befriended you and everytime you puplish one of those amazing artworks you do I can't believe it. Earlier this year we art collabed and I had a lot of fun and I also learned quite a bit from that, so thank you!! I really enjoyed building up the BNHA AU with you and the others this year too, so I hope you like this little present.

Fatgum x OC

Post War, I have no idea how bnha ends so I was rather vague LOL

When he came to, he could hear a woman crying. It wasn’t loud and wailing, it was silent, as if every sob was causing her too much pain to even make a sound. It took him a moment to place the voice, his mind still foggy from sleep and medication.

Taishiro had no idea how long he’d been asleep, but by the sound of Aori crying, it had been a while. Everything was still spinning inside, but he needed to show her that he was alright and well and though his insides still felt like they were aching, there was no pain.

“Aori,” he said in a half cough, his voice sounding thinner in the air than in his head. In case she hadn’t heard he wanted to repeat her name again, but he could already hear her suck in air in surprise and then he felt her grasp for his hand.

“Honey,” she said silently, as if loud noise would startle him too much. Taishiro pressed her hand and realised how small his was in comparison to hers. He must be thinner than he’d ever been.

He forced his eyes open and it took him a moment to adjust to the light around him. There was an evening sun shining in through the windows. Taishiro blinked. What hospital had they brought him to, he wondered, vaguely remembering that most structures by a wide margin had been completely blown up.

Aori’s hair was shining light blue in the sun, her back was illuminated by it, as if she was an angel waiting to welcome him back to the world of the living. There were tears in her eyes still, her cheeks sunken in as if she hadn’t eaten anything for a while. He never liked when she wasn’t eating right, not even if it was because she was so busy making sure he was eating right.

“I’m home,” he said in the absence of anything else to say. “Hungry,” he added, but didn’t dare look down on his body. There was no time right now to assess how much fat he had lost. He could already tell that it was a lot.

“I have muffins for you,” Aori said and reached into her bag. “I brought fresh ones everyday for this occasion. I knew you’d be hungry.” She opened the bag next to her and then ripped a part of the muffin off so she could feed it to him. Taishiro ate diligently as she fed him. How many times had she gone and bought a new set? How many had she thrown away? He felt guilty of making her worry so much.

He kept the left hand tightly around hers as he ate, pressing down on her soft skin as if to remind her and himself that he had indeed survived. “I must have caused you so much grief,” he said finally. “I’m very sorry.”

Aori let out a deep breath. “It wasn’t the first time you were fighting and it won’t be the last. I have always been prepared to see you like this. Still, it doesn’t get easier…” Her voice trailed off in the end, but she caught herself again. “This is the profession you have chosen and I would never want to take it away from you. I wish it were a less dangerous profession, but it is out of my hands.”

People who said that pro-heroes had the strongest mentality in the country surely had not met kindergarten teachers, Taishiro thought and a smile appeared on his face. “Nevertheless, I’m very sorry.”

When he’d been small, there had been nobody of his stature and definitely no one of his condition in the pro-hero circuit. They were all outstandingly strong, smart or good looking men, that Taishiro himself could never identify with, even with his above average grades. He took it upon himself to change that, to show that really everyone could be a hero, even if his parents had reminded him that this was a dangerous career to pursue. He had never really thought about his own death and the ramifications, not until he met Aori.

Suddenly he was thinking about the future more than the past, about a time when he wasn’t incredibly busy with his agency and training young people. Maybe he could have a little break time, a family, a house, such things that seemed for old people. There was nothing he would give his job up for, not completely, but other things he didn’t mind adding - as long as he survived long enough.

This had definitely been the most difficult fight he’d ever had in his career and he remembered that before his eyes went black he’d thought of Aori’s smile and how he’d promised that he would come back no matter what. Maybe that had kept him alive even then.

“When I saw the destruction,” she said bitterly. “I was thinking you might not be making it back to me. I tried to stealth myself for the possibility that you, my sister, the kids - any and all of you might not make it. But then you were here and I got so excited thinking that maybe I was wrong after all.” She sighed. “When you didn’t wake for 4 weeks and I had to watch you get smaller and smaller I thought that maybe I had celebrated too early…”

Taishiro laughed a little: “As if any amount of evil entity could keep me from getting back to you and eating your tasty pastries. Nobody could ever hold me back from that.”

And miraculously, Aori laughed too, pressing his hand again. “I will make sure you get nothing but that if you get out of here.”

“I can’t wait for that. Maybe some of Katsura’s famous cookies too.” He felt hungry just thinking about it. “I know I am just in your way when you cook and use 6 arms to work at the same time, but I have to insist once again that since it is food for me I should be at least helping-”

“You were involved in saving this country,” Aori furrowed a brow. “You don’t have to do anything for a long time.”

“Don’t say that. I’ll get fat and lazy.”

“Exactly.”

They looked at each other like this for a moment, these weak smiles on both their faces that covered up the hurt that was still there beneath them. Aori was strong, he knew as much, but she had still suffered a lot in the past month for his sake and he would have to make up for it as soon as he could stand on his own feet again.

“There was no way I would not have come back,” he said, definitely. “I am so lucky to have you and I would not be in the business to let anything take me away from you or let anything take you away from me.”

Aori’s lips curled and she looked like she was going to cry again, so he pressed her hand tightly once more. “I don’t know what the future brings from here on out, where this country and society is headed in the next ten or twenty years, but I know that I want to find out with you. I want to always be with you.”

“Me too,” she sighed and Taishiro realised she was crying again, but maybe not out of desperation as before. At least he hoped so. “Everything seems so up in the air from here on out, but whatever it is I want to be by your side as we experience it. If that means I have to visit you 20 more times in the hospital then so be it.”

“I’m trying to limit it to 16”, he joked and she laughed again. A genuine, happy laugh, which made his heart very happy.

Then, as if she’d noticed something, her head snapped up and her wide eyes stared at him: “Wait, was that something like a proposal?” There was blush quickly developing on her cheeks.

Oh, yes, he had made it sound a little like that. Well, if it was his choice he wouldn’t mind marrying her tomorrow right in this hospital, with the evening sun shining into her hair just like it did right now. But he supposed that was not what she was searching for and he hadn’t meant it as a proposal in the first place. Still, her observation definitely gave him ideas.

“No, it was not really,” he answered in earnest and then grinned: “Though I definitely will propose to you sooner rather than later.”

“Sooner rather than later?!” She repeated and was now completely red.

Taishiro winked. “You’ll never see it coming and it will knock your socks off.”

He felt very satisfied when she dropped the next muffin she was about to hand him, because her hand was shaking too much. He could not turn back time to take her suffering away from her, but he could make sure that every moment he was awake and conscious and at her side were the happiest she could ever spent.

#fic tag #this is queued so idk where i am when this goes up #what? you say this hero academy is for me?#other peoples ocs

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sunlightwoo · 1 year

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you’re it for me: motive - chapter twenty

summary: something about him never sat right with you from the moment that you’ve locked eyes with him on campus. you’ve even gone as far as throwing your drink at him at his own release party, yet somehow the universe always brings the two of you together whether you like it or not. but what’s so special about him that makes you associate everything in sight to your hatred towards him?

wc: 1009 | no warnings

masterlist | previous | next

You weren’t sure what to do as you were now watching everyone file into the exhibit with a fake smile on your face. Nerves were everywhere while the fluttering mumbles grew louder and louder with every minute passing by, making you wonder just how many people had actually come to the exhibit gallery tonight. It was meant to be a two hour event tonight, and you could finally be free to go home and rest for the rest of the semester.

However, remembering what Taehyun had mentioned earlier, there was no way that your night could end early.

Time seems to have passed by surely, from the moment that you were finally greeted with the sight of your friends, new and old. They had to have been by your side almost the entire time that the exhibition was open, making sure that they were helpful with the auctions and bids you were receiving for your artwork that you had been crafting over time.

“Blossom, by the end of the night, you could literally be my glucose guardian.” Wooyoung says to you jokingly, watching as people were bidding for one of your more recent works that were up for amounts that were up to the five digits.

“No shot, Wooyoung. Didn’t you say that you were going to invest in selling foot pics?” You giggled as he pushed you gently with his shoulder, and you thought about how tonight felt more at ease the longer that you had stayed there.

A dream that was once thought upon many millennia and lifetimes ago, finally achieved with the expense that it was all thanks to the one person you never thought about seeing again. Come to think of it, you haven’t seen him all day today, making you wonder where he could’ve been if he had been trying to boost up your gallery.

“Wooyoung, did you see Yeonjun earlier, by any chance?” You ask him once you realize that your plan won’t be able to work without the other component to it, but you frown when he shakes his head in response, just as you felt your phone vibrate from the owner of the venue.

You checked to see that he was letting you know about how they were wrapping up and ushering people out with the paintings that were bought from tonight. Looking back up from your phone, Wooyoung gives you a small smile and hugs you as you realize that maybe the latter didn’t show up because he was busy. It was reasonable.

He locks his elbow with yours as the two of you had been bidding people farewells, making you feel at least a bit happy that tonight had gone so well and you were pretty sure that your work was more recognizable now. However, you still felt defeated by the fact that you couldn’t even carry out the plan that you made with Taehyun.

“Blossom, I’m gonna head back home since my car is the other way, but drive safely okay? Text me when you get home.” Wooyoung says to you suddenly, stopping you both in your tracks as you let out a hum in response before the two of you had finally parted ways after leaving from the entrance.

You start walking to your car with your feet trudging behind you, a heavy feeling settling on your chest as you could feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes when you hear someone’s throat being cleared.

“Why the sad face, love? Did tonight actually not go well?”

The familiar voice makes you look up almost immediately as Yeonjun had been leaning against your car with arms crossed in front of his chest. There’s a smile that was now a worried frown when he notices the tears in your eyes, when you realize that your plan had been beside him leaning against-

“When the hell did you buy that?” You mumble, pointing over to the painting that you had been working on these last few weeks and almost suddenly you feel him engulf you into a hug filled with warmth and one too many emotions to name.

You can smell his cologne hitting you as your face was buried in his chest, but you didn’t care as his warm embrace made you feel like you were finally coming home.

“I bought it in secret, when Soobin and Sunflower were occupying you during the last 5 minutes,” He responds when he pulls away to look at you with his hands now reaching to cup your face into his palms.

“When were you going to tell me that you painted the constellations of every night we first met?”

You could feel your face heat up in response to his words, making you look away from his gaze that was boring into your soul. He had found out before you could even explain what the plan or painting was, and you feel silly wondering how you could’ve let it be that easy to him. However, you thought that it was a better apology for everything and a new beginning if you were to draw the sequence of constellations from the night you met him in every lifetime.

Yeonjun was your muse, whether you wanted to believe it sooner or later.

“I was going to tell you tonight, after apologizing but-”

“I love you, Y/N. I don’t know if you’re still wondering what my motives are, but in this life I want to know more about you, even if we spent many lifetimes together already. I’ll keep waiting for you, by your side.” He says and maybe this was the night that things were supposed to be okay.

Maybe you were supposed to be here, under the night spring sky being in Yeonjun’s hold.

And maybe you’ll let him as he finally kisses you under the stars that welcome you once again with a new constellation.

Maybe you’ll paint them again in your next life, but for now you were content with what you had with him and your little world.

#txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt fluff #txt angst #txt series #txt social media au #txt x reader #txt #choi yeonjun #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun angst #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun series #you're it for me #motive

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tamak1su0h · 10 months

Text

notes

short modern haitham x kaveh au idea that’s been stuck in my head for several weeks now hehe

! not proofread, fluff, sfw

one morning kaveh notices an unbelievably filthy car in the parking lot next to the building where his art studio is at. considering his idea nearly genius, he writes on the rear window with several moves of his right hand’s index finger: “wash me”. this note has no chance to escape haitham’s gaze as later he replies with “give me your number then”.

the following day, kaveh notices the car owner’s response, which makes him a little embarrassed. he decides not to leave another note as, to his mind, it has no sense. suddenly, he hears haitham’s voice behind his back.

“is something wrong?”

feeling ambushed, without any other word kaveh escapes the “crime scene”.

what catches haitham’s attention next is the absence of the reply to his “note” on the car’s window.

with an awkward movement of the hand, haitham adds “please?” to the last message of his.

two weeks pass by and the response is nowhere to be found. haitham grows tired of the waiting and (finally) decides to get his car washed. along with the dirt, he believes, this whole silly story will be left in the past.

_____

this same day kaveh gets approval of his artworks to be displayed at the international art exhibition. the news results in an unexpected party held right in the kaveh’s studio.

right before entering the building he cast a surprised gaze on haitham’s car that no longer resembles a clump of dirt.

slightly grinning, kaveh reaches his studio where the final party preparations have been done.

around 10 pm the friend-group hits the stage of sharing random facts about their lives and playing “truth or dare” games.

three hours later there are only kaveh and tighnari left in the studio. that is the moment when kaveh makes a decision to share his window notes story with the friend. kaveh doesn’t even have time to finish talking as intermittent laughter, belonged to nari, ripples through the room. he (more as a joke) advises his friend to grasp this chance. silence falls in the room right after kaveh’s quiet response that the owner has washed the car.

without thinking twice, tighnari tears out a piece of paper from his notebook and swiftly marks it with kaveh’s phone number. the next moment kaveh finds himself holding the said paper in his hand not knowing what he is supposed to do with this note.

tighnari is eager for kaveh to to get this dick so he grabs him by the elbow and leads kaveh to the parking lot.

there were only three cars. given the car’s description provided earlier by kaveh, it takes less than a minute for tighnari to detect haitham’s car.

step, another one, and the note is already flaunting on the wind-shield of the car.

______

unfortunately, it’s 10 in the morning. kaveh wakes up not so much from a severe headache, but from the ringing phone. the number on the screen is unknown so he ignores the call. kaveh tries to remember what their night talk with tighnari has been about. nothing comes to mind.

realizing that tighnari is probably still asleep, he sends him a message asking whether they can meet later in the local cafe.

the answer is not long in coming and they agree on meeting each other in an hour. it seemed to kaveh for a moment that he has never expected anything so much in his life. it feels like he is missing something very, very important.

_____

meanwhile, haitham is confused: why would one leave their phone number if they are not willing to answer the call?

_____

kaveh comes half an hour earlier than agreed stumbling upon each other at the entrance. neither of them think much of what happened.

- tighnari! how has the night ended?

- are you kidding me? YOU LEFT YOUR NUMBER TO THE CAR GUY! AND YOU EVEN BOTHERED YOURSELF WITH DRAWING A HEART AT THE END OF IT!

- i did WHAT? please, say that you’re not serious…

- i’d gladly say so, but it won’t change the fact that you actually did it.

- i got a call from an unknown number this morning. it must be him.

- i can’t believe that you’re saying it only now!

- in my defence i haven’t had even the slightest idea of leaving my number to him.

- my goodness, just call him back.

- well, you got a point there. what if he’s busy? i better send him a message.

Good day! You called me today, but I could not pick up the phone as I was suffering from the hangover, and could not even remember what my name was. If you are free, is it okay for me to call you? Thank you.

after sending the message, kaveh and tighnari stay in the cafe for two more hours talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

_____

kaveh iss working late in the studio when the phone’s screen lit up. it is another message notification.

ehh, hello, i guess? if you’re awake, i could call you. and, by the way, my name is al-haitham

it is quite late, but kaveh is mostly surprised by the calm tone of haitham’s message. that’s what he thinks about, dialling haitham.

- hello?

- is this... al-haitham?

- oh, you called me and even remembered my name!

- i want to apologize for writing those notes on your car’s window.

- do you want to meet up?

- what do you mean?

- meet. you, me, and the parking lot. i’m finishing with the work for today so i’ll be free in fifteen minutes. what do you think?

- good? i’ll see tomorrow day, right?

- wait and find out yourself.

- actually, sounds terrible.

- are you coming?

- you have fifteen minutes to come down.

kaveh gets up and looks at himself in the mirror. he is wearing the most casual attire which consisted of black pants and blue shirt. he picks up the jacket weighing on the chair and leaves the studio.

haitham is wearing black bottom as well and green sweater that he has acquired not so long ago. his hair looks messy as he has been grabbing his head while working.

haitham sees kaveh and realizes that he has seen him earlier. not the cafe’s entrance, but the car moment. with a smile haitham recalls the awkwardness in kaveh’s expression when he has addressed him.

when they were within arm's length of each other, they both smiled and laughed.

occasionally, kaveh interrupts the fun.

- you don’t even want to know my name?, - he says teasingly.

#genshin au #haitham kaveh #genshin kaveh #genshin haitham #genshin modern au #kavetham #haikaveh #genshin fluff #genshin sfw #genshin impact #kaveh #haitham #al haitham

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with-love-from-hell · 1 year

Text

5 Sides of Human

{Part Twenty}

Genre: Mixed

WC: ~5.6k

CW: Slight Asmo angst, allusion to past trauma, Barbatos is angy and sus, anxiety, Storm has a stutter but I am not depicting it with written word consistently, prolly lots of typos lol, spoilers for season 1&2, I'm skipping over/changing some things I didn't like in the main story so it will be a bit different from canon!

Series Masterlist

©️ artwork commissioned by @vivi8bit ©️

“And the winner of this year’s Bloody Moon competition is...” Diavolo paused, lips stretching into a large, enthusiastic smile causing the crowed to murmur in excitement. They had been sure the winner of the most appealing person in Devildom this year would again be Lucifer, as he had won the title every century since arriving in the Devildom, but with Asmodeus literally running a whole campaign team along side him, the results seemed like they would end up being very close. Diavolo received the slip announcing the winner from the envelope, giving a boisterous laugh. “Asmodeus!”

Lucifer and Diavolo clapped, offering their congratulations as Asmo screeched at the top of his lungs, snatching up Sarah, Heart, and Storm in a tight group hug that winded all of them. Storm winced, trying to cover her ears from the loud screaming directly in her face and the celebratory poppers everyone was firing off around them. He bum-rushed the stage, snatching the microphone from Diavolo and giving a tearful speech of how grateful he was to finally be recognized, specifically shouting out his close human friends as a source of support. As Asmo finished his speech, the crowd erupted into applause.

“Congrats Asmo! We love youu!” Sarah screamed toward the stage, pressing her fingers into a heart.

Heart clapped giddily at her side, yelling “Yas queen”

Storm clapped quietly smiling to herself about the results, though feeling exhausted from all of the work she put in to helping him win, despite the fact that she didn’t really care about the competition at all- especially finding out Lucifer didn’t care either, and only happened to win by chance during every competition. She stood on her tip toes, trying to find where he went from the side of the stage; only seeing a door close to the RAD gardens from beyond the ballroom. She decided to follow, snaking her way through the crowd in the auditorium. She needed a respite from the loud environment around her that was producing a headache, and maybe would spend a brief moment alone with him as a bonus.

Asmo jumped off the stage as the party music started, rushing over again to where Heart and Sarah stood, still clapping and cheering. Asmo captured them both in a hug once more, feeling warm at first with the affection the two were providing. He glanced around, Seeing most of his brothers completely disinterested in what was happening, and noted the disinterest of Vivi and Fern throughout the ceremony. But now, even Storm had gone missing. His wide smile then turned into a frown, his shoulders slumping a bit.

“What’s wrong, Asmo?” Heart felt his body droop as they exited the hug, and was worried about the sudden change in demeanor.

Asmo gave Heart a sad smile. “I’m fine. I was just hoping everyone would be as excited for me as you two are...but it seems like no one really cares.”

Heart felt their heart shatter at the sadness in Asmo’s demeanor, clutching his hand and pulling him into another hug. “I’m sorry you don’t feel supported by them, but us- we’re glad you won. We want nothing more than to see you succeed!”

“Mmhm.” Asmo sighed sadly, lost in his thoughts about his worth to his brothers and the other humans. Heart gave Sarah a worried look, and she shrugged in response.

“Asmo...” Heart paused, feeling their shirt become wet with what they assumed were Asmodeus’ tears. They rubbed his back reassuringly. “Lets take a walk.”

Asmo reluctantly agreed, though dragged slowly behind Heart as they guided him through the crowd, who all kept trying to stop him and get pictures or ask him to dance. He managed to bypass them with promises of a photoshoot later, and breathed a sigh of relief when the cool night air swept his hair up in a breeze. Heart slowly walked hand-in-hand with Asmo along the path, seeing Storm chatting with Simeon to the west near the gazebo. He quickly bypassed them without acknowledging their presence, taking Asmo further to the small pond in the center of the garden.

He sat cross-legged near the edge, patting the soft grass next to him for Asmo to sit. He obliged, snuggling up against Heart’s shoulder. He began to sob, crying into Heart for support as he expelled the hurt of feeling rejected from everyone else. Heart held him, hushing him softly and reminding him that they were here.

“Just because they don’t pay any mind to the competition doesn’t mean they don’t care about you.” Heart murmured, combing their fingers through Asmo’s soft hair. “Beauty competitions just arent everyone’s thing.”

“I know...I know...” Asmo sighs. “I guess just with all the energy I put into it, it really seems like half of them really only cared about Lucifer losing. I thought that winning this would make them realize that I’m worth something beyond being beautiful...but I guess I kind of went overboard with how obsessive I got about winning...”

Asmo.” Heart sighed. “You are worth something beyond your beauty. Thats not all of who you are. I wish you would come out from behind that shield sometimes like you do with me and Solomon- I think the others would appreciate seeing the real you too.”

“W-what do you m-mean?” Asmo stammered, confused as to what Heart was talking about.

“You’re more than beauty. You’re super bubbly and outgoing, fun to be around, you’re a legit genius when it comes to cosmetics and makeup, and you’re the most emotionally available out of all of your brothers, but that’s not it. You are genuinely caring, filled with as much love for your family as you have for yourself, you are passionate, give the best compliments because you read others very well, and you have a good intuition for when people are feeling down. Just because your brothers only see you as a vain and selfish person who only cares about their appearance, doesn’t mean that is you.”

Asmo was quiet for a moment, mulling over their words. Heart adjusted themselves so that they could look into Asmo’s eyes, smushing his cheeks in the process.

“You could be the ugliest being in the entire 3 worlds, and I would still love you. And your brothers do too- this is just how brothers are, as shitty as that sounds. Just look at the arguments you and Mammon get into- I’m sure you regret saying some things to him sometimes- but that’s another thing I love about you. You’ve got quite the sharp tongue.” Heart let out a laugh. “There’s so many things to love, It’s hard to list them all.”

Asmo glanced down bashfully, his cheeks still smushed in Heart’s hands. If they weren’t, Heart would have seen the glorious blush that exploded around his whole face. He had no idea that someone could make him feel so special.

“You’re beautiful because you’re you Asmo.” Heart whispered, planting a delicate kiss on his puffed lips. After parting, he released Asmo’s face, pleased to see the wide smile that was worn plainly on his lips. Asmo paused, staring into the water for a moment.

“No one has ever told me these things in earnest before.” He muttered, his smile growing wider. “I’m probably the luckiest being in all the three worlds to have someone like you, Heart.”

Heart felt their chest feel full at Asmo’s praise, and the thrum of their heart nearly doubled in speed as Asmo turned back to them with shimmering eyes, capturing them in a deeper kiss.

“Heart...” Asmo murmured, mere centimeters away from their lips. “I...I want a pact with you.”

Heart’s eyes widened. “Huh? Really?”

Asmo keened, inching his body closer to him. “I want to feel as closer to you. And this was how I got to feel closer to Storm and Solomon. Would you mind? Please?”

Heart thought over the offer for a moment, and seeing the pleading look behind Asmo’s eyes made it hard to refuse. “Of course.”

Asmo smiled widely, capturing heart in a hug. Like Lucifer did to Storm, he traced the outline of his sigil with his nail above Heart’s own heart, wanting this pact to be more special than any he had with another human. He kissed the spot tenderly, the pink glow fading into a scar shortly after his lips left the skin. He smiled, proud to have been able to connect so well with the purple-haired human.

“I think I’m ready to go back to the party now.” Asmo beamed, happy with the development of their relationship. “I’m feeling better.”

“Good.” Heart stood, helping Asmo to his feet. “Lets get on to celebrating your well-deserved win.”

“Will I get an even more special private celebration with you later?” Asmo smirked, tracing the wrinkles on Heart’s sleeve as if to tease them.

Heart blushed deeply, the pact mark on their chest beginning to glow. “Maybe...heh...I guess we’ll just have to see.”

Asmo giggled, taking notice of the mark’s subtle glow. He noticed it in Storm too, whenever she would feel or indulge in one of the brother’s sins. He squeezed Heart’s arm tightly. “Oooh, you can’t tease me like that, Heart!”

Lucifer dropped into his seat in the dark council chambers, immediately pressing his head in his hands to try to ease the throbbing pain behind his eyes. He groaned, trying to figure out what in the hell was causing such intense migraines to occur so frequently. He was no stranger to headaches, often coming on in response to stress caused by his brothers, but this felt...different. He attempted to use the remedies suggested to him by Storm- peppermint oil, menthol, herbal tea, cold towels over his eyes, reducing light exposure, drinking more water, getting more sleep, taking more breaks from his work...but all seemed to only temporary release from the ache that seemed to be like the weight of an anchor in his head. It had become a daily occurrence, sometimes happening multiple times per day, and would last hours. He gently rubbed his eyes, almost finding himself wanting to cry at the pain.

Perhaps he should text Storm to accompany him home and-

“Lucifer, I didn’t expect you to have left such a jovial celebration so early.”

Diavolo’s voice from behind him caused him to jump slightly, and he cursed himself for being so much more on edge given his current state. He tried to press down the discomfort and address his superior adequately. “My apologies, my lord. I needed to take a moment away.”

“Is something troubling you?” Diavolo eased into the chair next to him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.

Your damn right something’s troubling me, he wanted to say. Not only were the migraines a problem, but Diavolo still was keeping his distance from him, and not telling him of the things that seemed to be continuously pulling him away, producing extra work for Lucifer to do in his absence. He took a deep breath, trying to channel the advice of Storm throughout the past couple weeks. “Actually, my lord, there is. I have been patient with this, but I would like to know what’s been going on with you and Solomon. I am fearful that there is something you’re keeping from me on purpose.”

Diavolo paused, squeezing Lucifer’s shoulder and then giving a weak chuckle. “There really is no use trying to hide anything from you, is there?”

Lucifer looked to him, his eyes narrow. “What is going on, Diavolo?”

“Please understand, Lucifer...” Diavolo sighed. “I know that you are concerned, but there are still pieces of a puzzle I am trying to put together. I’m afraid I don’t have a direct answer to that question yet. If I did, don’t think for a minute that you wouldn’t be one of the first to know.”

Lucifer’s nose twitched in frustration. “Why is that I can’t know now?”

“Things are uncertain, and I’d rather give you a direct answer than-”

“Why don’t you trust me with your uncertainty?” Lucifer muttered sadly, trying to ignore the increased throbbing in his head. “Why is it that that sham of a sorcerer is at your side over one of your most trusted advisors?”

“I hardly think you have room to speak, Lucifer.” Barbatos’ voice jerked both of their attention to the dark corner of the room. Lucifer squinted, seeing the glint of almost reptilian teal eyes shine in the moonlight, staring angrily at him. Lucifer was taken aback, having no idea what it is that he had done.

“Barbatos, I thought that I requested you to wait in the hall.” Diavolo straightened his posture. “I wanted to speak with Lucifer alone.”

“Anything that you can say to him you should be fine to say in front of me, my lord.” Barbatos shifted his eyes toward Lucifer, narrowing them into a glare. “Besides, you are needed elsewhere at the moment, and it’s urgent.”

“So be it.” Diavolo subtly rolled his eyes, turning back toward Lucifer. “Lucifer, I do trust you, but there are things happening that I want the cause to be sure of before I speak it into existence. Your focus should be on the wellbeing of the exchange students and your brothers.” Diavolo chuckled, but was met with an icy silence from Lucifer. “You do have your hands quite full with them right now, I can see it in everything about you.”

He straightened his back suddenly. “What do you mean by that?”

Diavolo shook his head with a sigh. “Lucifer, you are clearly running yourself into the ground, you’re more ornery than usual, and you have begun to procrastinate on some of your paperwork recently, which frankly I am glad to see. I am unsure how you kept up on it so diligently before this point, but still it is unlike you. I don’t want to add more worry to your plate.”

“Diavolo, please.” Lucifer nearly begged, trying to keep the nausea that had begun to develop from the pain at bay. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Diavolo sighed. “I will in time. Please, just don’t trouble yourself with it anymore.”

Lucifer frowned as Diavolo rose from his chair and made his way back toward the entrance to the council chambers. He paused for a moment at the door, turning back to face him with a smile on his face.

“Oh, and by the way- I saw your report on Storm’s grades. She’s doing rather well, wouldn’t you say? Perhaps we should put her abilities to more of a strict test.”

Lucifer raised a brow at him. “What do you mean?”

Diavolo chuckled. “Lets go talk to her, I’m sure she’ll be pleased to know she’s doing so well. It’s a good reflection on your guidance, after all.” Diavolo pushed his way through the doors, immediately bombarded with reporters asking for his thoughts on the results of the Bloody Moon competition. He began to boast on his pride in Asmo winning, only to have the door close and shut his boisterous voice away from the chambers. Lucifer sighed, moving to stand when something smooth wrapped around his wrist and yanked him back down to his seat. He whipped his attention around, only to be met with the face of a very angry Barbatos.

“You have some nerve questioning the young master’s decisions in such a way, Lucifer.”

“Do I not have a right to know what problems are going on if I am working along side him?” Lucifer growled, and attempted to free his wrist from Barbatos’ tail, struggling with how tightly wound it was around it. He was unsure why Barbatos was in his demon form, and found himself fearful of what had occurred to make him so angry.

“Maybe so, but the young master has a reason for why he is choosing to keep this from you, and I suggest you respect that given the circumstances.” Barbatos eye twitched, tightening his grip on Lucifer’s wrist.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lucifer narrowed his eyes as Barbatos leaned down over him.

“What I mean is that I believe you should re-evaluate where your loyalties lie in your service to the throne, Lucifer.” Barbatos hissed quietly. “You serve Lord Diavolo, as you promised all those years ago. Yet, you seem to have grown quite fond of allying yourself with those who are threats to his position.”

Lucifer titled his head in confusion. “I do not ally myself with Diavolo’s enemies.”

“Do you need a reminder to what had occurred last spring with Belphegor? And perhaps your budding relationship with Miss Storm has just been a figment of my imagination.”

Lucifer swallowed nervously. “Belphegor has realigned thanks to the help of Storm...and there is no relationship between us.”

Barbatos scoffed, finally releasing Lucifer’s wrist. a red mark was left from where circulation began to be cut off. He leaned closer to his face, his hands wound tightly into a fist as his tail flicked in agitation behind him. “I wonder, Lucifer. If it came down to it, who’s side would you chose? I thought I knew the answer and that your allegiance to the young master was unwavering, but now I’m not so sure of where your loyalties lie.”

Lucifer and Barbatos’ heads whipped towards the sudden opening of the council doors. Diavolo stood with a worried expression painted on his face, gesturing for them to follow. “Come on, you two. I have found Storm in the Garden. We shouldn’t keep the good news of her performance at RAD all to ourselves!”

Barbatos’ tail flicked a few more times before straightening and eventually dissipating as his demon form fizzled away. He quickly fell in line at Diavolo’s side, offering a final sentiment as Lucifer made his way toward them as well. He leaned over to Lucifer as they followed Diavolo through the crowd. “I suggest you give what is to become of your relationship with that human some thought before provide an answer to my question.”

Lucifer swallowed, only offering a nod in response. His eyes immediately fell to her as they exited the auditorium, and jealousy immediately spiked in seeing her so intimately close to Simeon. His eye twitched and he directed his sight downward, trying to qualm the anxiety building in his chest at what Barbatos had said about his loyalties.

Perhaps he did need to reconsider how intense his feelings were becoming for the small redhead.

Sarah sighed as Asmo and Heart disappeared through the crowd. She was left alone amongst a see of partying demons, which usually wouldn’t be so bad, but she felt sorry for Asmo’s sadness at Storm and his brothers seeming bailing on him. Levi had begged to stay home, so she didn’t even have him as a distraction from the awkwardness she felt inside. She pushed her way to the outer layer of demons, seeing if she could find Fern or Mammon to occupy her thoughts with more pleasant ones. She glanced around, seeing the top of Fern’s green hair in the distance near the snack table. She smirked, walking toward the sound of their annoyed voice.

“I BET I CAN!” Fern yelled poking Belphie hard in the chest. He had a teasing smirk on his face.

“I’d put my money on Fern. Ain’t nobody who cooks worse than Solomon.” Mammon shuddered, stealing a glance at the untouched cupcakes next to them that looked food poisoning on a tray.

“I dunno, remember the one time Fern was on dinner duty and Lucifer had to take them off the schedule because they nearly burned the house down?” Belphie gave a half shrug. “Besides, it’s not like your taste in food is very refined, You make instant Ramen almost every time for dinner.”

“Oh and yours is?” Fern narrowed their eyes. “You always make easy stuff too.”

“Oh really? You tried making a cup of instant Brimstone Macaroni in the microwave and burned it, so how easy is it really in comparison Fern?”

“Whatcha guys talkin’ about?” Sarah strolled over, acting overly innocent with her hands clasped in front of her.

Belphie tilted his head toward the cupcakes. “We saw these were made by Solomon and started talking about how someday he’s going to kill us all with his cooking.”

"And then Belphie said Fern couldn’t make a better meal than Solomon.” Mammon added.

“And I say I can!” Fern glared at Belphie, who shook his head in response.

Sarah nodded, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “I see...Well, how about we put it to a test.”

“A test?” Mammon gestured for her to continue explaining. “Whatcha mean?”

Sarah smiled evilly. “Hehe...I mean, lets make it a competition.”

Mammon smirked. “Ohh I see.”

Sarah pointed to Fern. “What do you want it you win?”

“Huh? Oh...Uh...” Fern thought for a moment, caught of guard by the question. The others waited with bated breath, until a mischievous smile curled onto their lips. “I want a freshly plucked feather from Lucifer’s wings. As a trophy. And I want Belphie to do it.”

“What?!” Belphie shook his head. “No way! You’re crazy.”

“What’sa matter, cowboy?” Fern teased. “You seemed so confident a few minutes ago!”

Belphie scowled. “Fine! Deal. But If I win, and Solomon is a better cook than you, you have to...” Belphie paused, trying to think of what it is that he wanted.

“They have to go on a date with Lucifer.” Sarah giggled, seeing the horror manifest on Fern’s face.

“Um, excuse me!?” Fern screeched, wildly shaking their head. “I don’t fucking think so!”

Belphie snorted. “Yeah, I mean I don’t think we’d ever convince Lucifer of that. He likes Storm too much and I think Fern is his least favorite of the humans.”

Sarah smiled. “Don’t worry, I can figure that part out. The punishment for losing has to be fitting for each of you, don’t you think?”

They both groaned, glancing back to each other with a brief flash of uncertainty on their features, but it quickly shifted back to one of competitiveness. They shook hands, staring each other down. “Deal.”

Sarah smiled, the evilness behind her expression only growing. “Great, then I’ll find Solomon and tell him to cook something for me. How about we do something like...A shepherds pie?”

“What the hell is even that?” Fern looked confused, only to make Sarah’s eyes flash with mischief.

“Oh, this is gonna be good.”

“Oh, Simeon.” Storm paused, not realizing it was in fact Simeon she had followed out the door instead of Lucifer. “I didn’t realize it was you who was out here.”

“Aww, were you expecting Lucifer?” Simeon smirked teasingly, giving a slight laugh when Storm’s cheeks turned bright red. “I’m only teasing. Come here, Storm. I’ve actually been meaning to get a moment alone with you.”

She gave a weak smile back and approached to where Simeon sat on the bench, watching some birds flock around the Gazebo, where plenty of seed had been left out for them to munch on.

“It feels like I haven’t gotten to properly spend time with you at all since you’ve returned.” He mused, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes. “Even in your visit to the celestial realm, Luke provided a significant distraction. Besides that though, your mind seemed to be elsewhere throughout the trip.”

Storm nodded, giving a light chuckle. “Well...you know how Luke is. When he gets excited about something it’s hard to get him to calm down. But, I agree. I’ve missed spending time with you.”

Simeon felt his heart grow full at the statement. “That makes me happy. How are you getting along here this time around?”

“It’s going good...I think.” She laughed. “It kind of sucks that Malice is too anxious around Demons still to come to RAD with me, but he seems to be warming up to everyone in the HOL. Especially Beel, weirdly enough.”

“Malice...what an interesting name for a dog.” Simeon gave an amused laugh. “How does one end up with that sort of name?”

“Well, apparently as a puppy he was a nightmare.” Storm laughed fondly. “I didn’t own him until after he was trained for me, but the stories I heard...It seemed he liked to cause problems on purpose.”

“Hmm...That sounds like a familiar set of demons who I’m sure you’re acquainted with...” Simeon replied sarcastically, causing Storm to laugh. “It’s amazing how that personality seems to be drawn to you. Fern and you are getting along quite well, yes?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of fun having a roommate.” Storm smiled. “But I’d say I have been getting along well with the other humans here too- even Vivi.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.” Storm smiled fondly.

Simeon nodded, smiling warmly. “Well, isn’t that just like you, though? You seem to just naturally bring out the best in those around you.”

Storm blushed. “I dunno. This is the first time I’ve really had this good of a connection with other humans before.”

“Perhaps the others are the problem?” Simeon raised an eyebrow at her.

“Maybe...” Storm looked down, clearing her throat and deciding to change the subject. “So, how have you been?”

“Well...” Simeon tapped his chin, giving a slight giggle after a moment of thought. “Solomon keeps offering to cook for us, so we have to keep getting creative in ways to turn him down.”

Storm chuckled. “Has anyone tried to tell him that he shouldn’t be within 5 feet of a stove at any time?”

Simeon laughed. “We try to drop hints, I suppose. Though apparently he’s tried to have Barbatos teach him to cook. From what I hear, those lessons don’t go so well.”

Storm and Simeon shared a laugh for a moment, which faded into a comfortable silence. She relished in being able to spend time like this with him again. The two had become quite close during the first exchange program, though it seemed like something always interrupted their opportunities to be alone together. Simeon, though, was the only one Storm felt comfortable enough to confide in with her problems with Lucifer at the beginning of the first exchange program, and he consistently offered good insight into Lucifer’s mannerisms and advice on how to deal with his previous defensiveness over his family. Simeon was shocked when Lucifer began to accept her as one of his own siblings though, not expecting his advice for how to coexist with him to manifest into such a close and loving relationship.

As they quietly watched the birds fight over a larger seed, Storm’s mind began to wander to the disastrous rehearsals during the play, and what had seemed to be a complete personality change in the usually sweet angel.

“Can I ask you something?” Storm anxiously stole a glance toward him, watching Simeon’s smile fade into a concerned frown.

“What is it?”

“What was up with you during the play? You kind of got...like...mean?” She bit her lip after the words came out, feeling nervous as to how Simeon would respond.

“Oh...” He glanced to the ground, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “I guess I didn’t realize that, but looking back...I suppose I was a little harsh.”

“Yeah, and I just...” She breathed, trying to manifest the image of Mammon in her head from the night of the ball. His words rang through her head, giving her the confidence to tell Simeon how she felt.

“I wan’t ya to value yourself as much as I do. Ya shouldn’t accept anyone talkin’ to ya in the way that I did.”

“You just...what?” Simeon had turned completely to her, his own nervousness bubbling up in how long she was hesitating to say something. He knew she had a hard time telling people when she was hurt, and if he had indeed hurt her, he wanted to know so he could make amends. Simeon couldn’t stand the idea of Storm being mad at him. She was his friend, and a close one at that. She had given him a lot of solid advice on Luke and his interactions with the brothers, and his fondness for her kind and gentle nature only grew over time. He even found himself feeling a slight twinge of jealousy at how inseparable she seemed to be from the brothers- not only because he secretly wanted her time to himself, but also because he wanted to be as close to them as she was.

Storm breathed deeply again. “I just didn’t like the way you pulled me- er, us- around and your yelling kind of...” She trailed off, losing her confidence after looking at the surprised face. She dropped her glance just as Heart and Asmo briskly walked out the doors of RAD, toward the opposite end of the garden.

“Oh...” He murmured, sliding his hand closer to her. She had told him about how terrified she was at the sound of raised voices as a result of her trauma, and he felt terrible for having triggered some of those awful memories. “I’m so sorry. I guess when it comes to my writing, I get a little carried away in wanting a perfect execution, but I didn’t realize it got so bad that I hurt you.”

Storm smiled weakly, feeling guilty for making Simeon feel bad. Her thoughts began racing, accusing her of stirring the pot and minimizing the hurt she actually felt. “I mean, it’s water under the bridge now, y’know? I just...I wanted to make sure you knew and that I was feeling better about it now...You don’t have to feel bad or-”

Simeon laughed, shaking his head. “Storm, it’s okay. I’m glad you told me. I’ll offer an apology to everyone, but I want to ask what I can do to make things better between us?”

“Oh, no no...You don’t have to do anything...” Storm picked at the skin of her arm, the guilt building further at Simeon requesting to do something to make up for things that she had now convinced herself weren’t really that big of a deal.

“But I want to.” Simeon smiled, now reaching his hand out to her knee gently.

There was silence for a moment as Storm tried to figure out the least burdensome way she could fix this situation. She sighed, about to speak when the doors to the Auditorium burst open, walking through it a very amused Diavolo, who b-lined directly toward her. a few moments later, coming out of the building, looking very annoyed, was Barbatos, with Lucifer in tow behind him with a somber expression on his face.

“Storm! Just the person I wanted to see!” Diavolo’s voice boomed through the garden. She flinched slightly as he approached, placing a hand on her shoulder roughly. “I wanted to say how proud I am of the marks you’ve gotten so far, and on top of all of this extra work load and coming in mid-way through the quarter! You truly are amazing!”

Storm blinked at him, somewhat confused. She had good marks, but they weren’t any higher than usual, from what she could gather. She glanced to Lucifer, who refused to meet her gaze. Diavolo squeezed her shoulder a little too tight, getting her to wince and return her focus to him.

“It appears as though you are receiving such high grades, that after talking it over with Lucifer, we think you should be held to a higher standard!”

Storm’s face went pale and she gulped nervously. “W-what?”

“Well, all the exchange students here get a little cushion for their grades because of all of their other responsibilities, so that they will never actually fail any class here unless they do nothing at all! Even after removing this grade cushion to examine your results, we have discovered that you are still in the top 5 percent in the entire school. How amazing is that?!” Diavolo smiled widely, displaying his pride in her accomplishment.

“Wow, Storm that’s amazing!” Simeon added excitedly as Storm blushed deeply, not used to such excessive praise.

“However, there is one more thing we are interested in examining. On quarterly exams, you only receive about half of the test questions that your other classmates receive. So we thought of removing this buffer after providing you with the standard exams, just to see if you still hold up against the other demons here!” Diavolo’s smile dropped slightly after seeing her anxiety begin to rise. “Not to worry, this will not go on your permanent record. And I am having Lucifer see to it that Satan aids you in studying if you need it. Exams are next week, so study hard!”

With that, Diavolo said made and excuse for something urgent needing his attention, and went on his way. Storm sighed, nervously carding a hand through her hair. Simeon tried to provide reassurance, but her thoughts of potential failure consumed her to the point where her mind seemed to drift somewhere else, and everything around her seemed to fade into the background.

Lucifer watched Storm’s reactions, but couldn’t find the words to provide reassurance. He merely was able to rub her back softly as Simeon spoke to her. He glanced up just as Diavolo had exited the garden, seeing Barbatos staring back at him with a stern look on his face. Lucifer swallowed nervously, dropping his eyes avoiding his judging glare.

Barbatos shook his head in displeasure, now making his own way out of the garden to follow the future king.

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seawitch62 · 2 years

Text

A sculptors obessesion.

Word count 281

Yandere

Pygmalion, a famous sculptor, falls in love with his own creation and wishes to give this creation life. (Greeka.com)

🍃🍃🍃

The Sculptor.

With devotion likened to obsession the chisel chips away at the stone. What started as a form of therapy to forget her became an all consuming task.

Wooseok does not need photographs or videos he creates from memories collected and stored.

Often his hands bled onto the statue barely even noticing as he chipped away. Stone fragments scattered across the room, nourishment such as food and drink consumed as he worked, sleeping and waking at the foot of his creation. His every waking and sleeping moment directed on his preoccupation.

His beauty, his statue, his goddess, his Galatea.

Memories and emotions flood, the dam gates break, his tears drop onto his creation like tiny droplets of rain.

His motivational force keeps him chipping away, his chisel an extension of his hand, his tool.

The happy times invade his thoughts, distracting him, a time when she was his flesh and blood, now he only has stone.

Like Pygmalion he loves his art, the woman who conquered his heart then tore it apart when she left.

Finally his work is complete.

Stunningly beautiful accurate portrayal of his Galatea.

♤

As her eyes survey her surroundings she takes in the fact she is in a cage. Furniture and amenities are present as well as her belongings.

The cage is in the middle of a stone circle, a henge.

As she looks closer at the stone artwork she realizes they are all depictions of herself.

A silent scream escapes her horrified mind.

Wooseok enters his domain.

"Hello Galatea, welcome to my gallery".

#wooseok x reader #pentagon x reader #pentagon fanfic #pentagon yandere #wooseok yandere #pentagon scenarios #pentagon imagines #ptg x reader #ptg scenarios #ptg imagines

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rosejigglypuff76 · 1 year

Photo

THSC T3nsion x THSC Facade AU Crossover No Tension Nor Facade, Only Comforting Trust

Several Government Officials were sent on a mission to infiltrate a secret base that's filled with every member of the Topcap Gang. According to the General, this particular task is to mainly learn about upcoming heist plans by the sinister gang and stop them in advance, arrests will be made if they do manage to capture a couple of Topcap members.

Henry Stickmin and Charles Calvin are two of the Government Officials that are given this task, as they proceed to sneakily infiltrate inside one of the secret bases. While they were lurking around to find where the heist records are being kept, there was a small feminine whimper from down the hall.

Henry heard it almost in an instant, as his eyes briefly sparked a concerned look. He told Charles that they should split up in order to cover more ground, with the ace pilot showing a positive expression of good luck before he and Henry proceeded.

At that moment the white-haired guy wandered deep into a seemingly empty hallway. Assuming that the Topcaps are holding someone captive, Henry becomes determined to save him or her. Finally he reached a locked door at the end of the hall, which made him briefly remember the time both he and Charles encountered the gang for the first time.

Using a lockpick to unlock open the door and proceeding to enter quietly, Henry soon found out who that whimpering is coming from.

There he saw a young blonde boy wearing blue and purple, all bound and gagged as he shivered in fear or even sorrow. Henry looked more concern, seeing the fact that the feminine boy (who looked to be around his early-20s) is trapped in this predicament.

Slowly getting closer, before learning down and gently removing the gag around the younger's mouth. Henry asked what his name is, which revealed to be Sven. As in, Sven Svensson.

Henry gasped, before proceeding to interrogate him with a more bitterly angered look. Sven himself looked at him with genuine fear and tears in his eyes. And not long after being ridiculed by such questions the blonde quickly yelled with complete fear, "Stop it Charles!!"

That sentence made the white-haired guy stop almost immediately, returning back to a concerned look but is much more severe. All he muttered was a simple, "Wh-What?"

Sven whimpered, slowly turning his head away knowing what he said, "Oh yeah, that's right... You're not Charles in this alternate universe... You just look like him..."

A briefly spark of visions clouded into Henry's mind. He only knows about his nightmares of other versions of him from different timelines, but never once he'd heard about alternate universes. Not once he thought about AUs, and seeing it now he can tell that this particular Sven is not from his own universe.

"I'm sorry...", Henry sincerely apologized, noticing that he's crying blood while he said that to Sven, "I didn't know that you came from somewhere else."

He gently hugged the young blonde in a form to try and make it up to him in one way or another. Sven himself tearfully accepted it, but is still clearly shaken up.

Shortly after Henry untied Sven from the ropes that were binding him just now, and the two proceed to talk about this whole ordeal in a more calmer way.

Stuff revolving around Sven accidentally being teleported here from his own universe, with him also introducing the Mage of Possibilities Eliseo (who is also his Spiritual Partner) to Henry. Explaining that he would travel from one timeline to another and would even check out different alternate universes, in both cases they use fragments that float around in "The Sea of Fragments"

In some way, shape, or perhaps form, Henry felt like this version of Sven is in a similar situation as him. And is willing to help him and Eliseo get back to their own universe.

- - - - - - - -

Here's my very first artwork for the Year 2023! This is also a gift for my dear friend @jazzstarrlight who is the one that created the THSC T3nsion AU!

I felt like drawing Facade!Sven interacting with characters from her T3nsion AU, this time with T3!Henry

This scene takes place few hours after Facade!Sven met T3!Sven and T3!Burt after accidentally being transferred into their universe

The context of this showcased artwork has T3!Henry and Facade!Sven giving each other nicknames, just so they don't get mixed up on their own universes version of the other

But before you ask: No this won't be a ship between T3!Henry and Facade!Sven, they just gain an eventual brotherly-like relationship when protecting one another as a family.

#t3nsion #sven svensson #henry stickmin #henry stickman fanart #henry stickmim collection #henry stickmin au #thsc #thsc au #thsc sven svensson #thsc fanart #alternate universe #au #fanart #facade¡sven

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finelinevogue · 3 years

Note

the fact that Y/N has post natal depression Is somewhat refreshing idk I just don't see it talked about much on here and if it is it's like Hella angsty and the partner doesn't understand what it is but I was wondering if u could touch on it a bit more cause it's something I'm really scared about happening to me and I just want harry to hold me and tell me it's going be okay 😚😚😚😚

P.s. if u don't wanna it's understandable

anon: can u write about harry helping y/n through her ppd maybe like the 3rd time was so bad that h decide that he won’t be having more children

so this was requested twice so i would love to be able to write this for you both, hope this is okay - mind it’s heavily angsty!;

tw: vomiting, ppd and od

oli - 4, felix - 3, belle - 12 weeks

Motherhood was really fucking hard.

The birth of your newly born daughter, Isabella, had really taken a back pedal on your mental health. You had suffered with post natal depression after the birth of your two sons, but nothing as bad as this.

It had hit you around the 7 week mark after giving birth. The pregnancy itself was okay, even though she was slightly premature, but it was after you’d taken her home that it’d all spiralled downhill. It started with complications with her breastfeeding - like she was rejecting the milk that you had produced. It hurt to see her reject you and your body, finding more comfort in drinking from a pre-made milk bottle as her dad rocked her to sleep. You recall the evening so clearly and felt like an utter failure as you watched her drink a bottle of formula for the first time.

“Ssh ssh,” Harry cooed to your 7 week old daughter as he rocked her in his arms on the rocking chair in her nursery. She was whining because she was hungry, but the problem was that she wasn’t accepting your milk. She hadn’t been accepting your milk all day and now it was becoming dangerous for you to keep on saying ‘Oh i’ll just try later.’ Harry had told you to make a formula bottle for her. “Mummy’s coming.”

As much as you didn’t want to, you were walking back to the nursery with a warm bottle in your hands. You’d tested it on your hand to make sure it wasn’t too hot and then taken a sip to taste it, out of jealousy, and you thought that it didn’t taste any different to you. Then again you’re not a 7 week old human whose only date is milk.

“Look here’s mummy with your yummy milk, okay? Look Belles!” Harry cooed at his darling angel and you only wished he wasn’t as happy for her as he was.

“Yeah.” You spoke softly, handing him the bottle and standing nearby, part of you hoping that she would reject this too and she wasn’t just rejecting you.

But no, she drank the formula like it was her last meal.

“Such a sweet girl, aren’t you?” Harry praised her, watching her in awe as she kept on drinking the formula. Watching as she was drinking to become the strong girl you knew she’d become. It just hurt that it wasn’t you that could help her become that.

You felt powerless. Worthless, even. The one thing that you had carried the weight of your breasts around to do and you couldn’t even do it. Your nipples were so sore and your breasts ached so badly and it was all for nothing. Perhaps it was punishment for being such a bad mum. Perhaps you’d never been good enough for this job and it was your bodies way of shutting you down forever. You wouldn’t need the ability to produce milk anymore, because you weren’t worth the title of becoming one again. You wanted to be happy for your little one, seeing her happy but all you felt was rejection and sadness. She didn’t think you were good enough to be her mum and that really hurt.

Along with the breastmilk problem, Belle also became very stubborn when you wanted to change her nappy. Anytime you tried to change and help her she put up a fuss, kicking her legs and sometimes she would bite or hit you away. It was just a reminder that you weren’t a good enough mum for her and that she didn’t feel safe enough around you. She didn’t find comfort in your presence and she was so fussy about what you did around her. With Harry, though, she was an angel. She loved him so much and obviously he made her feel so loved and safe - something you’d clearly never be able to give her.

There was also the chores of being a mother to your other two sons too. Oli and Felix were old enough to understand that they had a baby sister, but they weren’t old enough to understand how miserable you were. Harry wasn’t even able to figure it out yet. You tried your best to put on your bravest face, knowing that your family needed you to be strong but the truth was that you were crumbling on the inside. You were feeling less and less like yourself and you were waiting for the moment when you’d completely fall apart. Nothing felt right anymore. Everything was just numb.

“You two boys okay?”

You walked into the children’s playroom see that they were sat at the little table colouring in. Felix’s little legs dangled slightly, whereas Oli’s legs touched the floor and it made your heart swell at how big they were both getting.

“Yep!” Oli cheered, scribbling with his left hand as his tiny tongue stuck out from his lips as he concentrated - a habit passed onto him from his father.

“What are you both drawing?” You asked, coming over and kneeling on the floor beside them and having a peek at their drawings.

“We’re colouring for daddy.” Felix answered, some of the words not being pronounced properly due to his young lisp and lack of being taught how to say things correctly yet.

His words stung though. You appreciated that he was only a toddler and he meant nothing evil or malicious by it, but it hurt to think that maybe, just maybe, your sons were doing this for their dad because he did so much more for them than you did. Of course you tried to be the best mum you could, but maybe you weren’t doing enough. Maybe you weren’t meant to be a mum after all, or at least not a good one.

“O-oh,” you tried to hold back the tears in your eyes because your boys looked so proud at their artwork - and you should be too. “Tell me about them then, my loves.”

Oli went first, “So this is me and this is Oli and this is dad. It’s us playing football like we did the other day, mummy.” He pointed out to each of the figures, some looking actually quite terrifying but you’d never have the heart to tell him that. The figures were all holding hands though and it hurt to think that you weren’t a part of that.

“Oh that’s so good Ols!” you rubbed his head of hair and then turned to Felix’s, “What about you Fix?”

“I drew daddy as the best.” He pointed to a trophy that the figure - more like a stick-man-slenderman - was holding, which was decorated with the award of ‘my hero’.

“I told him to write hero, mummy.” Oli added, and you smiled at both of them.

“Well done. Good job both of you. Daddy will love these!” You only wished that they would draw something for you. You hated to think that you were being petty, but honestly you just wanted to feel loved. “Shall I go cut up some apple for a snack, hey?” You asked, trying to feel useful.

“Daddy is making us smoothies!” Felix answered and you had to stand up, up and away from their heigh, so they didn’t catch the tears in your eyes.

“Okay! Don’t forget to give him those pictures - he’ll love those.” You praised them and they both giggled to each other.

The sight of your sons laughing should’ve made you so happy, but it only reminded you that you weren’t the source of their happiness. You weren’t on their mind enough to be their inspiration for drawings. You definitely weren’t their hero. You were just a woman to them, not a mum. You wanted to be so much more but it was clear that they didn’t need you. They were loved by their dad and each other, not in need of your heart.

Eventually Belle settled down and was sleeping better through the night, leaving you and Harry to much more peaceful nights sleep. Well, just Harry.

You had found it near impossible to get to sleep now. You lay awake at night wondering when Belle would next wake up, wondering when she’d next need you. Harry was always quick out of bed though, even if he actually was sleeping, to help her ordering you to stay in bed and rest yourself. You couldn’t help feel like he was telling you to stay put because he knew you wouldn’t be able to do your job properly - and you started to believe him.

You’d found yourself getting jealous of those that could get to sleep. When you were walking down the road you’d judge a person by how much sleep they looked like they got last night. You definitely looked like you only had 2 hours - even when you’d only had 37 minutes but who’s counting? Your dark circles were heavily noticeable, but no one cared enough to ask. Even Harry stayed clear of you more and more often; spending more time with the kids than you and sleeping on his side of the bed instead of yours at nighttime.

There had been one evening where you had been so restless that Harry had gotten so frustrated and left the room, with a blanket and a pillow, and slept on the couch. You’d never felt so much like a burden than that night. Your family was rejecting you and you felt like a failure. You were a success at failing in everything. The meals you cooked went half eaten by everyone because you would’ve forgotten to add a key ingredient. The children preferred to spend more time playing with their dad because you weren’t energised enough to play the games they wanted to. Your daughter still rejected your milk. It was all too much and you just wanted one nights peace for it to change.

Last night had been that night.

Fuck these were so addicting. You were finally getting the sleep that you so badly craved, only with the help of tablets.

You wanted the sleep because that was the one place you could escape to. You needed that escape to help you get out of bed the next morning. Life was too hard for you to not dream, and without dreaming you didn’t want life.

It started off with taking one every night before bed, but then they stopped working again, so you started taking two, then three. Four was obviously where your body hit its limit.

“Mummy? Can you come tuck me in please?” Oli asked, little toy giraffe in hand and shaking you in hopes of waking you up to send him peacefully off to sleep.

You’d gone to bed a bit earlier tonight, lying saying that you were extremely exhausted. Harry said he would be able to handle things and that’s when you excitedly ran upstairs to take your pills; 4 of them. You’d made it into your bed, feeling slightly drowsy after completing your nighttime routine, but then you started to feel unwell and really ill. Before you’d passed out you’d stuck your fingers down your throat in hopes to make the feeling in your stomach disappear, but it ended up you throwing up all over the bed and pass out right there.

“Mummy! Wake up!” Oli rattled your back, but you were still unresponsive.

Oli padded out of the room and down to his sisters room where he knew his dad was. Belle was being extra fussy this evening and Harry suspected it had everything to do with you retiring early. He heard Oli come into the room just as he’d gotten Belle down.

“Y’alright buddy?” Harry whispered, tip-toeing out of Belle’s room, leaving the door open slightly, and crouched down in front of him.

“No. Mummy’s not waking up.” Oli pouted, rubbing a tired fist over his eye.

“She’s probably in dreamland, bud. She was really tired today.”

“She’s really tired all of the times.”

“I know, Ol.” Because Harry did know, but he was too much of a coward to face up to the problem. The doctors had said that post natal depression can strengthen with every birthed child, but he was too blind sighted by the fact that you’d overcome the first birthed post natal depression so quickly, and was so in love with his baby girl, that he didn’t truly see how bad things had gotten. Harry had tried giving you some space, distancing himself from you in bed and spending more time with the kids so you could relax and rest up, but nothing seemed to be working. He was surprised, actually, that you’d been having better sleep recently and so was hopeful that maybe the worst of the depression was over.

Hell, was he so wrong.

“Go to bed, bud okay? I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Wake mummy up so she can give me a kiss.”

“I’ll try little man, alright?” Harry scuffed his sons hair and then watched him walk off to his room.

Harry walked into your dark room, the air smelling slightly sour, and walked around to your side of the bed. He sat down next to you sighed heavily. He needed to speak to you, no matter how tired or angry you’d be with him. He was losing you as a wife and a mother and a soulmate and a lover. He was just losing you, just as you were losing yourself and he was doing tip-toeing around the problem any longer. He was going to try and make this better. He was going to better understand how you were feeling in order to help you.

“Baby?” He spoke softly, nudging you gently, “Baby wake up.” No response. “Y/N, my love? Wake up for me darling, need to speak with you.” Normally you would’ve stirred by now but there was still nothing. “Y/N?” Harry shook you a bit more urgently now - one that would surely wake even the deepest of sleepers. “Y/N!” He shouted, perhaps a bit too loudly for the comfort of his children.

He turned you over and that’s when he knew this was very, very, bad.

Your face was pale grey and your mouth was covered in the remains of vomit, and he suddenly understood the gross sour smell from before. Your hair was greasy and stuck all in the wet sick all over your face. Your eyes were puffy from the remains of tears. You looked dead.

“No, no, no. Y/N! No you don’t.” Harry’s eyes starting weeping and he couldn’t think straight. He checked your pulse on your wrist and timed it - it was unhealthily faint. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were in your last beats of your heart. His tears and sobs were uncontrollable, but he had to be both strong for you and his children, as well as for him. “Fuck sake pull yourself together Harry. Okay, baby hold on please. Okay? You don’t get to leave me like this, you hear me? I love you so much, baby. Fuck i’m so sorry.” He gently placed your head back down on the pillow and pulled out his phone.

999

“What’s your emergency?”

“I need a-an ambulance p-please. I-I think my wife i-is dying.”

The rest of it was a blur for Harry. Him trying to wake you up. The ambulance arriving. Oli and Felix crying when they saw you being carried away on a stretcher. Belle’s deafening screams. Harry’s heart beating for the both of you.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It was the rhythmic beeping sounds that woke you up.

Your whole body felt achey and sore, your head a pounding mess. You opened your eyes slowly, adjusting them to the light of the room. You expected to see the family photo on the wall opposite you and the white of your curtains, but you were met with a heart-monitor machine and a hospital bed instead. You looked down at your body and noticed a cannula in your arm, making you squirm because you hated stuff like that so much. Your nose had a tube running inside it too, feeding you the oxygen your lungs weren’t receiving properly.

It then dawned on you how you weren’t in the room alone. You saw a sleeping Anne and Gemma on the chairs in the far corner, with Felix and Oli tucked against their sides - Anne with Oli and Felix with Gemma. It was so cute to see them so cuddled up close. They looked peaceful. You took note of the baby pram that was at the end of your bed, most likely playing bed to your beautiful daughter. Your mind felt lost. You can’t really remember what had happened, apart from taking four of those sleeping pills. You fully remember the weight of feeling worthless and useless as both a mum and a wife, though, and that feeling was still very prominent.

Your eyes lastly landed to the side of you, where Harry was sat but also laid on your bed. The top of half of his body laid upon the bed, his head buried onto this arm deep within the bed, whilst his bottom stayed rooted to the chair. His hand was holding yours tightly, which was a sign that he wasn’t asleep. You were so scared to face him though. You had failed him, again and again and you weren’t sure whether you could be enough for him anymore. Enough for your family anymore.

You squeezed his hand three times saying ‘I love you.’

“Y/N,” He whispered so hoarsely, but you were so focused on him to even catch it. He looked ruined, and you’d done that to him. His eyes were dark and tired, but also red and puffy from where he’d been crying. His hair was a mess and you could tell it hadn’t been washed in a while. How long had you been out for? You felt rested in your sleep, but not in your mind or your heart.

“I—” Your breathe got caught in your throat, but you persevered to finish your words. He deserved to here them. “I’m sorry.” You were whispering so you didn’t disturb anyone else in the room.

“No, stop it. I’m sorry baby.”

“Harry don’t, you don’t have anyt—”

“Stop yes I do I—”

“Harry please you don’t owe—”

“Y/N listen!” He cut the little volley-conversation and ordered you to just stop. You started crying when you saw that he was too. “Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. Whatever you’re thinking, stop it right now. Because I love you. Fuck, I do. I love you so much that when I found you unconscious in a pile of your own sick thinking you were dead, my only thought was that I wished it were me instead”.

“Harry, you don’t mean—”

“My god Y/N! You don’t get it, do you? I would do anything to switch places with you right now. I would suffer a thousand times over if it meant you were okay. I’d suffer in hell for you. Nobody else but you has ever made me feel like this. I married you because I love you and I want to wake up next to you every day of my beating hearts life. I chose to have children with you, because I knew how great of a mum you’d be and what beautiful people you’d help bring up into the world—”

“But i’m not.” You cut Harry short, trying to pull your hand away from him but he didn’t let you - only tightening his grip and pulling himself closer towards you. He was so close you could kiss him.

“Not what?” He asked, although he already knew the answer. You’d both had this conversation before, but you were both tired of it and were ready for it to be your last now.

“A good mum. I’m- i’m not a good mum or wife, Harry and i’m sorry.”

“I told you not say it and stop thinking it, because you’re completely wrong Y/N. You’re a good mother and a good wife, because you are a good person.”

“But i’m not great.” You whimpered, thinking back to the drawings your Oli and Felix had done. “I’m not the best.”

“But you don’t have to be, baby. You see our beautiful, healthy, happy and safe babies over there?” Harry turned to look at them, love in his eyes as in yours. “They wouldn’t be all those things, no matter how you feel about yourself, without you. I could never have brought them up to be half the people they are without you by my side, the way you make me a better person. You claim you don’t got this, but baby you’re already doing it and have been doing it for 5 years with our children and so much longer with me.”

“I’m just so fucked up Harry.” Your head tilted back on the pillow as you got heavily emotional over the situation.

Harry shook his head and moved his hand to cup the back of your neck, moving your head forwards until it met his. The touch of his skin against yours, no matter where and how small, made you feel alive and you’d missed him and that feeling so much. You missed loving him so much.

“Listen to me.” He ordered, keeping you still. “You are strong and you are brave Y/N Styles. No matter what you tell yourself I will be here every goddamn day of my life, if I have to, to remind you that you are worth more than your fucking weight in gold. You are my heart. You are my soul and the mother to my greatest achievements. I know they are yours too, just as I know I am your heart.

“You are.” You whispered so quietly under your breathe, but Harrys heart warmed when he caught you saying it. He knew though.

“Just let me love you. Let me be there for you. If you want medication then let’s do it, and i’ll be there for every step of the way. If you want to go to a rehabilitation centre for a bit, that’s okay we can—”

You shook your head and licked the tears away from your face. You were both such tearful messes, but the love between you was undeniable. “No, no please, no.”

“Okay, okay, love. We won’t. See, you’re okay. I promise, you’re okay. Stay with me, yeah? I’ll love you and keep you safe, just as you will me.”

“Promise.” You told him sincerely. He brought his lips to yours with that single word. He was so proud of your for being so brave and strong. He wishes he was half the person you were. His lips conveyed those thoughts of his and you could taste the love and passion burning through his heart and out on to his lips. He tasted like home. z he was home. Your lips smacked together messily, but you didn’t care because you loved each other too much and had kissed each other even more. Once you pulled back he stayed close to you, smiling at you with such awe. “I think.. I think I want to try medication please.”

Harry didn’t say ‘okay’ or ‘sure thing’, no. He said four words that meant more to you in that moment that any others in the universe. More than saying ‘I love you.’ Words that reminded you that not everything is okay and that sucks really bad, but you’re doing your best to get through it. It was a reminder that you had so many people who loved you and cared for you. It was a gun at the starting line symbolising that the journey ahead wasn’t going to be easy, but worth it.

“I’m proud of you.”

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 3 years

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A/N: If there’s anything I learned from doing this, it’s that vampirerry is an utter WHORE. Good for him!!!! As for myself, I’m done with the semester and my term projects and finals left my singular brain cell fried, so this was a nice way to get back into writing again. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you to the anon that suggested it, this was super fun to do! :D

read you’re someone i just want around here

word count: 6k

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Harry is very attentive when it comes to aftercare with Y/N. The sex they have is often rough and includes toys, degradation, and multiple rounds, so he believes aftercare is non-negotiable. Rough sex can be fun, but if it’s not followed by a lot of communication and post-performance support, it can take a hard emotional toll on a person. Even when intimacy isn’t meant to be inherently sentimental, there has to be a certain level of connection and etiquette surrounding it, or it could end badly for both parties involved. He always checks on her immediately after they finish, simply to gauge her headspace and how her body is responding, and after he’s made sure she’s alright, he goes into his usual routine of skin-to-skin contact and gentle coddling. Reassurance and praise is just as important afterwards as it is during, because it’s good to let a partner know that your appreciation runs deeper than just the physical need felt in the heat of the moment; everyone deserves to feel valued beyond their body.

Harry proceeds to clean Y/N up after every session, because it’s the least he can do since she’s usually the one getting the brunt of the work. He’ll fetch a clean towel dampened under warm water to wipe her clean, or he’ll offer to help give her a bath or a shower— whichever route she prefers. Harry dresses her, and changes the sheets if need be, and tucks her into bed to ensure she’s nice and comfortable. If it’s been a particularly intense session, he’ll go the kitchen and bring back a snack and a drink— a granola bar and a Gatorade, or some chips and her favorite juice, or if she’s feeling especially hungry, he’ll happily go out of his way to prepare her an actual meal— and he insists on feeding it to her bit by bit until she’s come to enough to handle it on her own. If she’s not hungry, he at least brings her a glass of water and urges her to drink it; better to be safe than sorry. After that, more cuddling is the status quo, which normally ends in Y/N falling asleep in his arms, and Harry has absolutely no problem with that at all.

B = Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Harry’s favorite body part of Y/N’s is probably her chest. Yes, he likes it for sexual reasons— obviously— but there are innocent reasons for his fascination, as well. He likes how responsive she gets when he touches her there— how he can get her going just by groping her the way she likes it, or by using his mouth to tongue across her nipples until she’s writhing in pleasure and whining for more. He loves leaving hickies all over her tits, probably more than she likes receiving them. It’s just so fucking hot seeing himself marked all over her, especially when she’s putting on a bra and he can see all of the dark bruises scattered across the cleavage spilling from the undergarment. Filth aside, he also enjoys loving all over her chest. Absentmindedly cupping them while they’re snuggling, nuzzling his head between them while they’re watching television, massaging them under her shirt with his large palms as she sits back against his chest, sipping a glass of wine and chatting away, unwinding after a long day. It’s a form of intimacy; it provides a type of closeness nothing else can.

As for his own favorite body part, it’s a tie between two different areas. He loves his thighs— they’re one of his most prominent features. They’re thick and meaty and sensitive, so they’re the perfect sweet spot to touch when he wants to get riled up. Given his previous response, it can be easily deduced that he likes to get hickies there, as well. The marks look great peeking out from under his briefs (for the short amount of time they last, anyways) and they make a great accessory to the large tigerhead tattoo along his left thigh. It’s artwork, really; a proper Picasso.

His other favorite body part...well, take a lucky guess. It’s likely not that far off— literally, considering it hangs right between his thighs.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Harry’s personal preference is cumming inside. He adores feeling the way Y/N tightens around him when he finally orgasms (she’s just so warm and soft and unbelievably tight; it’s like she was made for him), almost as much as he loves seeing her reaction. Her body will immediately start to wriggle and her back will arch as she releases broken little whimpers, clinging to his shoulders with her nails and begging him to fill her until he’s milked his worth. Hearing her ragged breathing and feeling her sweaty chest stutter against his is enough to do him in, but when she goes as far as to gnaw on his ear and whine a soft little, “Want it all, baby. Want you dripping out of me when we’re done.” Well, that’s enough to kill him all over again.

Of course, there are times when Harry likes seeing himself all over her, too. On her outstretched tongue, or smeared across her pretty face and plush lips (she looks particularly cute when it ends up all over her eyelashes), or streaked over the valley of her tits, or pooled at the center of her tummy. If he’d been taking her from behind, then he likes seeing it run down the backs of her thighs, or splattered across the dip of her spine. And if she’d been giving him a handjob, then seeing himself dribbling down her fingers is just as good. Why? Because those fingers usually end up in her mouth, which means he ends up all over her tongue, and so the cycle comes full circle. How poetic.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Did Harry suggest wearing a matching set of a vibrating cock ring and buzzing bullet to do grocery shopping once? Yes. Did he drop three glass jars of peach preserves by accident as a result, causing them to have to book it out of the bread aisle while trying to look as unsuspicious as possible, which failed horribly because they were literally hobbling like a crippled elderly couple? Also yes. Did they end up fucking in a Target fitting room? Definitely.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

A lot of experience. Tons. Immense amounts. Insane amounts. Two hundred years of the same seven continents just means two hundred years worth of sex across every single one. And it gives you plenty of time to find the clitoris, as well as giving you a chance to learn the female anatomy like the back of your hand. That being said, Harry doesn’t doubt he could make Y/N cum with his wrists tied behind his back and a blindfold strapped to his face. In fact, he’s made her cum just by using his thigh, so that in itself is enough credibility to last him several more lifetimes. The toy chest in his closet and the fact that he’s well-endowed are bonuses— he knows more than enough tricks to keep her satisfied with just his tongue. Not to mention his fingers— they’re long for a reason.

F = Favorite position

Funny enough, Harry doesn’t have one. He’s spent so many decades cycling through every possible position in existence, it’s gotten to where he can’t pin-point a preference; all positions are unique, and they each have their own appeal. Reverse cowgirl is nice because he likes watching the way he stretches Y/N open with every plunge of her hips, and it also gives him the luxury of marking his rings across her ass in the process. Regular cowgirl is nice, too— having her chest bouncing in his face is nothing short of a divine miracle, in his opinion. Doggy style is a staple, and there’s always different add-ons he can apply to spice it up; for example, taking her from behind with her wrists tied to her ankles, or bending her over the kitchen counter with her face pressed into the marble, or fucking her against his glass wall with her hands and chest flushed to the cool surface as their breaths fog the floor-to-ceiling window.

Missionary is a tried and true option, and just like it’s prior counterpart, it can be enhanced with a variety of extra tricks. Bondage is a good condiment, against the wall is always a nice touch, spread-eagle never goes wrong, and just having her legs wrapped around his lower back is more than enough. However, he does have two favorite variations of the position. The first is when he mounts her legs onto his shoulders or along the inside of his elbows to open her up more, and then just ramming his hips down at a very specific angle that hits her g-spot just right, pounding her into the bed so hard she tears the sheets off the mattress. The second is a cowgirl-missionary hybrid: he sits back on his heels and uses the steep downward slope created by his thighs as elevation, pulling her ass onto his tilted lap and swinging her legs over either side of his hips. He gropes her waist with his palms and yanks her forward, bouncing her against his cock and watching her completely dismantle as he nudges all the right places with as much speed and force as she deems fit.

And then there’s fucking from the side, but that’s a whole other extensive conversation he doesn’t have time for.

Actually, maybe Harry will entertain it for a minute or so. He usually throws one of Y/N’s legs over his neck to get a deeper range, manhandling her roughly onto her side and yanking her closer to his body by her waist, grasping it with stern vigor and holding her down against the mattress, grunting out a gravelly, strict command along the lines of, “Stay fucking still.” He’ll drill into her at a brutal, consistent pace, staining his fingerprints along the curves of her torso and sponging damp kisses onto her ankle, smirking into her skin as he watches her fist at the duvet in a futile attempt at maintaining her bearings. It’s pretty evident that she can’t, though; the way her eyes lull around their sockets from his harsh stride does a terrible job at hiding her lack of self-control, alongside the fragmented curses she gasps out whenever he nudges her g-spot with the head of his cock.

“Oh, that was such a pretty noise. Did I hit that little spot you like?”

Her response will be begrudging, as always, which he thinks is ridiculously useless considering he can see her burying her face into the pillow to hide how her jaw drops open in sheer rapture. “No.”

“No?” The vampire leans forward, stretching her leg towards the headboard and preening at the garbled squeak that escapes her gritted teeth, plunging deeper as he lowers himself to her level. He knots her hair around his knuckles, tugging sharply until her face is tilted back enough to meet his fiery gaze. “Then why are you starting to shake?

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends on the mood, honestly. There are definitely serious moments, but Harry enjoys the humorous ones just as much. He already adores making Y/N laugh and smile on a regular basis, and that desire only grows when he’s buried between her thighs, simply because she just looks so fucking cute laughing with her hair splayed around the pillows in a messy halo, her sounds of glee stuttering due to how sharply she’s jolting against the bed. He loves feeling her giggle into his mouth as he cracks sarcastic jokes and makes stupid witty comments that break the intensity in the air, especially because she’s usually clever enough to return them with some of her own. Then they both end up snickering like idiots as he tries to keep a solid pace, which eventually tapers to a messy, haphazard stride as their laughter drowns out their goal to the point where he has to take a genuine break to collect himself. There’s tons of examples— how could there not be? Sex is hardly ever perfect, so awkward moments are not only expected, but guaranteed. What better way to handle them than with a bit of humor?

There was an incident once where Harry accidentally knocked their foreheads together so hard, they both bruised (which he responded to with, “I’m pretty sure this isn’t what Cosmopolitan meant when they suggested matching couples tattoos.”). Another time, he got so into the moment he didn’t realize he was jack-hammering the top of her head into the backboard until she brought it to his attention (and made a comment saying it sounded like a sped up version of the beat to We Will Rock You). A bad case of the hiccups. Y/N burping right in his face halfway through his orgasm. A random leg cramp that made him think he was going to need amputation to survive. Accidentally rolling off the bed or couch onto the ground and nearly dislocating both of their spines in the process, getting his cross earring tangled in her hair and nearly ripping off his ear trying to get it out, and the unfortunate collapse of a pillow fort he’d spent over an hour building. He even sneezed in her face once, and when she instinctively went to shove him back, she wound up slamming her palm into his nose so hard he nearly passed out. Nose bleeds aren’t necessarily sexy, per se, but he just dug blindly through her nightstand until he found two new tampons somewhere in that black hole she calls a drawer, shoved them in his nostrils, and kept going. No one can ever accuse him of being unresourceful.

Queefing. Lots and lots of queefing, which he usually starts mimicking with his mouth, and then she responds to that by whining and telling him to cut it out, and then he takes to mocking her whining instead. It normally finishes with them laughing so hard that Harry’s cheeks hurt from smiling so big, but it’s a good type of pain. The best type of pain.

H = Hair (how do they groom?)

Harry likes keeping himself neat and orderly, but he doesn’t enjoy going bare, so trimming is his grooming preference. There’s just something so unappealing about a completely smooth dick— it looks like raw chicken and it’s fucking disgusting. He doesn’t have anything against a good bush, but it tends to get unruly and he’d rather not have to overcomplicate his shower routine. And honestly, he can’t trust himself because last time he had a full front yard going, he got shitfaced and tried to braid it on a dare. Keeping the hedges trimmed is the ideal landscaping option, and it just looks way hotter— a uniform dusting of hair is a good accessory and it just makes everything look more cohesive, given that he also fancies keeping his happy trail thick. It’s all about aesthetics, isn’t it?

I = Intimacy (the romantic aspect)

It’s no secret that Harry’s been somewhat detached from intimacy for the last two hundred years or so. Intimacy is reserved for genuine romance, and that’s something he hadn’t entertained since before the lightbulb was invented. But now that he has Y/N, intimacy has crawled its way back out from the deepest recesses of his subconscious, where it had been shoved into a bottomless pit with the rest of his trauma. He likes it— he likes opening up to her in any way he can, because sharing those obsolete parts of himself with someone again is more fulfilling than he ever imagined. He likes kissing her randomly when she’s halfway through a sentence, just to feel her words die off abruptly in her throat as she gives into his gentle gesture, a delicate smile spreading across her satin lips. He likes whispering sweet phrases of encouragement into her hair when they’re tangled amidst sweaty limbs and rumpled sheets, reminding her of how much he cares for her and how beautiful she looks when she’s so far gone and how she makes him feel like his entire body has been set alight. He likes sponging soft pecks across the stretch marks along her thighs and across the dimples on her belly, her skin candy and velvet on his tongue as she releases a watery sigh that lets him know he’s doing all the right things in all the right places. He just likes letting her know she's special to him, in any and every way he can.

Intimacy forges timeless bonds, and he reckons that assumption is unarguable, considering he knows a thing or two about eternity.

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

Harry likes to jack off, obviously. Who doesn’t? It’s why he has an entire section of his toy chest dedicated to self-pleasuring tools. Vibrating cock rings, an array of lubes that range from temperature-changing to sensation sensitivity, and a few pocket vags that get the job done whenever Y/N is out of commission (usually because of work). His favorite one is an electronic sleek black model that is made of a premium silicone material and has a variety of massage settings, suction strengths, and internal textures. It’s designed to make the session feel more real, and yes, it was expensive, but self-love is always worth the splurge.

The beauty of living on his own is that he can get off wherever and whenever he wants, without having to stress about someone interrupting an important step in his pampering routine. He usually does it in his room and on his bed, simply because Y/N’s pillow is close by and the experience is heightened when her scent is swimming around his hazy, bliss-drunken mind. If Harry is feeling particularly needy, he’ll ditch the toy all together and just hump one out against the mattress or cushion. If it’s a particularly restless day, he’ll take a toy downstairs and lazily play within himself on the couch while browsing through Netflix. Those instances usually average a few tamer orgasms rather than a single large one, but he’s not complaining; his stamina comes in unapologetic waves that stem from a never-ending supply, and he certainly has the time to kill. If Harry gets the sudden urge in the shower or while he’s relaxing in his jacuzzi, he won’t bother fetching a trinket; he’ll just stroke one out with his hand, using the cool metal of his trusty lionhead ring to tease the tip until he brings himself to orgasm. It turns out daylight crystals have more than one use.

There is one common factor amongst all these different choices, though: Y/N is present in every fantasy. And if the vampire is feeling especially bold, he’ll grab his phone and take a video of whatever he’s doing to himself, and then she’ll have a nice little gift waiting for her once she gets out of the café for the day. That usually leads to him receiving a present in return later that evening, and then he’s dialing her contact before the clip is even done playing, and then what he does during his alone time doesn’t require him being so alone anymore.

K = Kinks

Harry has tons— in fact, he has so many, he can’t really keep track. And he also has the sneaking suspicion that if he were to ever jot all of them down, he’d end up locked in some type of sex addict rehabilitation center. Bondage is a big one, so he’ll start there. He’s great with ropes, given that he learned his way around them ages ago. Chains are nice, but they can be a pain to set up without the right equipment; he’s thinking of getting a reinforced metal hook installed into his ceiling, like the one in his storage closet, which he uses to keep his punching bag secure. Handcuffs, obviously— velvet-lined, straight metal, fuzzy coverings, he’s got it all. Dominance, degradation, Daddy, Sir, choking, brat-taming, spanking, flogging, slapping— impact play in general, to be honest— spitting, wax, praise, begging, masochism, branding (mild stuff, no molten metal shit), collaring, discipline, dirty talk, edging, exhibitionism, face-fucking, face-sitting (with him on the receiving end), giving oral (is that a kink? It is now.) gagging (both the action and using the actual object itself), breeding (he hates that term but that’s the official name, unfortunately), teasing, voyeurism, role play, and… he thinks that’s it. Oh, and blood, but that doesn’t really count for apparent reasons.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Y/N’s couch is sacred, at this point. Their entire relationship started on that lumpy, worn excuse of a sofa, and it’s seen them through their progression from strangers to friends with benefits to lovers to more. It’s comfortable enough, the dark color hides any explicit stains, and the cushions always smell of her signature mixture of honey and lavender combined with Snuggle fabric softener. It’s finicky, but irreplaceable. His kitchen counter is a close second. It’s provided a lot, taken a lot, been through a lot— through a lot of Lysol wipes, to be specific. If it wasn’t marble, it likely would have been reduced to chunks and rubble by now, courtesy of his enhanced strength gripping the edges as he slams her against the smooth surface. The backseat of his Cadillac is consecrated, as well; there’s just so much erotic appeal to fucking in a car with rock music blaring in the background, muffling the obscene sounds of bodies connecting and a mixture of fever-pitch moans. The couch, the counter, and the Cadillac— the Unholy Trinity.

The jacuzzi is nice, too, but for the sake of his clever little “c” alliteration, he’ll leave that one as an implied token.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As much as Harry claims he likes full submission in bed, he can’t deny that he loves being challenged. Delivering punishment and coaxing out an orgasm is so much more satisfying when he has to fight for it; it’s so fucking hot watching his girlfriend try to best him in a power struggle, especially when she finally— and undeniably, since he always wins— caves under his will and winds up begging him for what he otherwise would have gifted her freely. That’s where the brat-taming kink comes into play. He likes it when she mouths off and makes snarky digs, and he enjoys it even more when he tries to set her in place and she amps her disobedience as a result. There’s nothing more attractive than a battle of wits with someone who is a perfect match in every way. And when she channels her attitude into physical gestures, it riles him up beyond compare. For example, when she smirks and rolls her eyes, despite the fact that there’s trails of tears staining her cheeks and mascara smeared all over her waterline? Christ, he could go feral.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No feet, no feces, no beastiality. There’s probably more, but those are the ones off the top of his head.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Receiving oral is great— he highly recommends it, solid ten out of ten— but giving it is so much better. Harry’s always been a giver, even when he was young and barely knew his way around a woman’s undergarments. The stereotypical expectation for a person who is beginning to explore their sexuality is that everything they do, they do for their own gain. It’s a selfish realization, yes, but it’s a primal type of selfishness that no one can truly be blamed for. It’s a simple concept: when you start having sex, you want as much personal benefit as possible. It’s only natural. But from the second Harry became sexually active, he came to find that providing release to his partner outweighed the bliss he could get from letting them pleasure him instead. It’s not direct pleasure, but rather cognitive, which more often than not translates itself physically. And when it comes to Y/N, that euphoria manifests tenfold.

Nothing compares to having his face buried between her legs as she tugs and yanks at his hair desperately, her chest heaving and jaw falling open as he uses his tongue to unravel her from the inside out. Spitting sloppily onto her folds and hearing the raw gasp of aroused shock that escapes her sore throat, which causes his swollen lips to spread into a dirty grin as he latches onto the sensitive bud at the thick of her core, fiddling with it until her legs are trembling uncontrollably around his sturdy shoulders. Watching her features go slack as he bobs his neck fervently between her thighs, swiping the bridge of his nose across her clit over and over until the entire bottom half of his face is drenched in her excitement. Fucking his tongue into her and feeling her buck against his jaw as she holds him in place with her fingers tangled in his curls, whimpering his name repeatedly in a voice so shattered, he could probably build a mosaic with the fractures. Feeling her drip down his chin and into the collar of his shirt, savoring how sweet she tastes as he pins her hips down against the bed and groans feverishly into her cunt, his ego idolizing the image of her so disheveled under his influence.

A measly blowjob is hardly any competition to that. Harry could very well cum just from eating Y/N out. In fact, he has, and that in itself is all the proof he needs.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This is one of those other factors that depends on the mood. If Harry has been waiting all day for it, his impatience bleeds into his rhythm, which means he settles for fast and hard. It means he settles for bending her over the back of his couch with one palm around her throat and his other fingers in her mouth, pounding into her with so much force, the sofa starts shifting across the ground. If Y/N has been teasing him endlessly for a decent amount of time, it’ll be rough and deep, but not fast; he’ll drag it out for as long as possible, just to make her regret acting like such a spoiled brat. That’s when he brings out the paddle, or the crop, or just manhandles her across his lap and spanks her until she’s apologizing profusely through her whines. If he’s in a soft, romantic headspace, it’ll be slow and sensual, with lots of gentle caresses, giggly kisses dusted across eager lips and droopy eyelids, and penetrating strokes that make his toes curl and tummy clench.

Pace is relative, but the message behind it is all the same: I want you more than anything, and I’m going to show you just how deeply I mean it.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are fun, Harry will admit. They’re filthy and messy, and they show just how far gone two people are for each other to the point where they can’t wait to feel one another at a later time; that they need to be together now, or they’ll go absolutely insane. Quickies are saved for when the urge strikes at random times. For when he’s out with Y/N at a park, sitting under the shade with his head in her lap as she combs his curls out of his eyes and thumbs over his chin affectionately, and the sun filters through the tree canopy just right to where it illuminates her lashes and the suppleness of her cheeks in a manner he deems ethereal. For when they’re at the mall, walking hand in hand and licking at ice cream cones as they survey the shops, and she reaches over to wipe a bit of Rocky Road off the corner of his mouth, replacing the stain with a soft stipple of her lips instead. For when they’re out eating dinner and playing footsie under the table like immature teenagers, and she’s trying to steal a French fry from his plate but he keeps fighting her off with his fork because, “I told you to order your own, but you wanted those disgusting potato skins instead!” And she’s laughing so brightly and unapologetically, giving him a look that so obviously tells him she can’t wait to get him alone, and nothing seems quite as flawless as that fraction in time, then and there and nowhere else.

These simple but memorable moments cause him to get love boners, which he jokingly refers to as “sniffy stiffies,” where “sniffy” has to do with being sentimental, and “stiffy”...well, that one is pretty self-explanatory, no? It always ends with them shagging in the car, or in the family bathroom of a diner, and in the case of the park, in an obscure area of the forest that lines the jogging trail.

Quickies are just that— fast, but meaningful nonetheless, because they come from a place of genuine emotion. They’re fleeting, but unforgettable. Sniffy stiffy quickies, if you will.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Taking risks is the norm in Harry’s life, especially when it comes to his sex habits. He’s proven time and time again that he has no problem riding along the seams of a dare and just barely making it out unscathed, so experimenting outside of the bedroom is just another day in the life. Fingering Y/N in a music room in an antique shop, getting road head during a two hour drive back to Los Angeles, ripping his girlfriend’s panties out from beneath her dress at one of California’s most prestigious restaurants— the list is endless, really. Harry likes to think he has a gift for coming up with inspirational quotes on the spot, so he’ll lend his expertise here and now: “A life without risks is a life that isn’t worth shit.” It even rhymes, so he knows sorority pledges will have a ball putting it in their Instagram bios. A bit of charity work for the bird-brained.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Endless stamina. Literally. Vampires don’t stay tired for long, so he could be ready to go again within seconds. And he can last long, as well; his stubbornness and pride depend on it, and he likes making his partner cum first as an ego boost. He can go as many rounds as Y/N can and more, though he won’t push it. He doesn’t want her to end up in the ER with a bruised cervix.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Harry could run a sex shop from his closet; Y/N doesn’t take the piss by calling him “Fifty Shades” for no reason. He uses them on himself, he uses them on her, and he got high once and tried to sword fight Y/N with a dildo, so it’s safe to say he definitely uses them quite a bit. If his Lovesense Lush 3 vibrator could talk, he’d be drawn and quartered for excessive debauchery.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Harry loves teasing, that’s no mystery. Winding people up is one of his most practiced skills, so of course that would channel into his intimate life. He’s mastered it, though it’s not like it’s hard. A drawn out blink here, or a feathery touch there. An inch of space between his and Y/N’s lips to establish some tension, or squeezing her inner thigh with his palm hard enough to draw a tiny squeak from her chest. Touching her through her clothes, or leaving a trail of wet kisses down her throat and stopping right at her cleavage. Biting the sensitive skin along the inside of her knee, or dragging the tip of his cold nose down the center of her twitching tummy. Lapping slowly at her nipples until they perk up, or sinking a single long digit inside her and keeping it there just to feel her clench around it needily. And once he gets a pattern going, teasing molds into edging, edging molds into begging, begging molds into praise, and before he knows it, he’s hit four of his kinks with one roll of the dice.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Harry is very vocal in bed, and he’s not ashamed of it. He knows for a fact that Y/N loves it, and if him being loud gets her worked up, then he’ll let his throat go out in the process. He’s noticed that in different situations, he has an arsenal of sounds for each. If he’s being rough and dominant, he tends to groan, grunt, and growl. If he’s being desperate and needy, he turns to whines and whimpers to communicate how he feels. If he’s too zoned into the moment to distinguish all his emotions, broken moans and stuttered mewls are his default. No matter the circumstance, they all take the same route: they start low and soft, and escalate in volume proportional to the intensity of the moment. So what if half the building is hearing him orgasm for the third time as he mocks his girlfriends sobbing pleads and calls her his “dirty fucking whore”? Let’s be honest, it’s probably the highlight of their week. He has a great voice— a sultry, deep baritone that compliments his English accent nicely— and anyone would be lucky to hear it spew the filth it does. He’s yet to get many complaints, so he doesn’t intend on stopping.

W = Wildcard (random headcanon)

An honesty hour moment seems interesting, so he’ll confess a few tales from his past. The first time Harry ever went down on a girl, it was against a tree in a garden and he nearly asphyxiated under all the layers of her gown. A couple of years later, he ended up getting oral from a reverend’s daughter against a tree, too, for the morbid irony and associated religious revenge. And to drive the point home, oral was only the beginning of what she gave him. His first decade as a vampire was definitely his pettiest.

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It’s not uncommon knowledge that Harry’s well-endowed. He remembers how insecure he was the first time he had sex— a shocker, he knows; he was insecure?— and how he knew barely anything regarding sizing and how to use his assets accordingly. But it’s been ages since then, and now he definitely knows his way around his own body (let alone his partner’s), and he most certainly knows that he’s above average not only as a person in general, but when it comes to what’s in his trousers, as well. Harry won’t specify inches— he loves how speculation drives others mad— but it was big enough to give Y/N a decent pause the first time she pulled down his pants, and it’s big enough to leave her absolutely fucked every single time, without a single miss. If that’s not credibility at its finest, then he doesn’t know what is.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Harry’s sex drive is insatiable, to say the least. His vampirism combined with his narcissistic tendencies makes the ideal cocktail— cocktail— for the constant fuse that’s always burning under his skin. He’s ready to go at all times; Y/N just has to say the word and he’s pulling on a pair of sweatpants as he grabs his keys, hopping down his complex’s corridor toward the elevator on one foot as he tries to get his last shoe on the other. Lazy morning sex is probably his favorite; he’s come to find it’s when he’s most pent up, usually after a sleepless night of feeling Y/N’s body heat radiating through all of his cold limbs. It also sets a great tone for the rest of the day, and he just loves seeing Y/N wake up to him lying on his side with his temple resting on his fist, his elbow propped against the mattress as he poses the other on his hip in a theatrical diva stance. He’ll smile at her giddily with all his pearly teeth, dimples twitching as his lashes flutter dramatically, dirty intentions written clear all over his face (“Good morning, hon—” “Wanna have sex?” “Harry, it’s ten in the morning.” “Is that a yes? Because it’s not a no.” “I haven’t even brushed my teeth!” “That’s fine, I’m gonna stick my dick in there anyways.”)

All in all, his libido is insane, and he’s lucky that Y/N’s is up to par or else he would have worked her into an exhaustion-induced coma by now.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Harry just...doesn't. Maybe once every few weeks, but definitely more often now than before he had his girlfriend. Sleeping just comes way easier when he has someone he cares about resting beside him, their inherent warmth thawing the stiffness from his muscles and putting his racing mind at ease. He feels safe enough around Y/N to let his guard down— both literally and metaphorically— and that seems to help with his supernatural insomnia; it sedates that nocturnal hyper-instinct in his brain that demands he be aware at all times, muffling the animalistic part of him that has been manning the reins for the better half of the last two hundred years. He doesn’t need to be so on edge anymore when everything he needs is just an arm-length away. Especially when she’s usually willing to lend her chest as a pillow, and who is he to neglect her wishes.

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