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sourcherryandsprinkles · 2 years

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Daemon Targaryen x virgin!reader

Blood sheets if possible that daemon show to people with pride. Could be his new inocent wife, younger then him.

Sorry, but I won't be writing this type of request. It's giving me flashbacks of that one 1D fic (you know the one, we've all read it at some point) and disgusts me in many ways

#abut requests #no request

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ominouspuff · 5 days

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No Man Left Behind / Something Worth Dying For

REQUESTS / BLOG EVENT

Request from @razzbberry - Palette #1 - Alpha-17, Cody - Death of the Cynic in Me

Notes and close-ups beneath the cut!

Notes: I think Seventeen would, both subconsciously and consciously, keep his cynicism as long as possible. It’s how he thinks the world works, but it’s also a survival tool. It’d be a very, very slow death.

It’s put to the test with Cody — not because Cody is special among his fellow clones, but because he’s one of the first that bothers to fight Seventeen on his own terms. The argument is always the same. Cody wants to talk about what he hopes to be, someday, after he is a soldier. Seventeen thinks he’s stupid to think that’s possible, or that he’d be capable. Cody knows it, and he, might not be. Seventeen thinks it’s even more stupid, in that case; what a waste of energy.

It develops. When they’re older, and in the thick of war, one day Cody risks his life for the chance to save a brother that was going to die anyway. Seventeen yells at him for fifteen minutes once he’s conscious about luck and stupidity and the trouble it’s causing Seventeen and the false hope it’s engendering in others. Cody says he can disagree all he likes, but he doesn’t give a fig, respectfully. Seventeen thinks Cody can go try to get blown up again, if he thinks so.

There’s no point fighting for a better tomorrow; they’re bought and paid for to fight for something else, FOR someone else. Seventeen is prepared for being fodder, as a result. He’s prepared for unfairness and the bleak life that they’re living. Instead he watches as Cody defeats odds time and time again, somehow managing to balance being an exceptional military leader with a secondary war to live for something more, running himself ragged and — inexplicably — gaining ground. Each of those little victories are a little death for Seventeen’s cynicism; a chipping away. A little seed of Cody’s brand of hope takes root, awkward and begrudging, fond and tentative.

Then Order 66 happens. Cody’s efforts for a better life are in vain, and Cody himself-

Cody may never know that Seventeen was right abut just how helpless they were. Now he only knows that Seventeen is a traitor, apparently, because Seventeen — for once in his life — was the lucky one and his chip malfunctioned.

And Seventeen could say ‘I told you so’. He could rest, vindicated and resigned, in the fact that every dream Cody built up and everything he thought was worth dying for is pointless, now — as he always suspected it would be.

But it isn’t fair, even by Seventeen’s standards.

“What are you doing,” Rex will rasp, caught in a strange role reversal as Seventeen paints an armor set with Cody’s golden colors. “He’s not coming back, Seventeen. He can’t. It’s pointless to keep going after him, you need to stop.”

“No,” Seventeen will answer, unbothered, “I don’t think I will.”

“We can’t — we can’t keep hoping,” Rex says, because he means he will probably have a breakdown if he imagines there is even a pitiful possibility he could save his brothers and then have to turn away from that scrappy chance for the greater good and Rebellion, and all that. “We’ve got to move on.”

“Go on.” Seventeen will invite sincerely, one brow raised because he knows Rex better than that.

“Do you want him to shoot you?” Rex will finally yell, all knotted up at the thought of losing Seventeen too, even though it’s funny because Seventeen was never kind to Rex.

“He can try,” Seventeen will say, touching up the last of the paint. He will stand, wiping his fingers, and pick up his pack. “See you when we get back, then.”

Alt version:

#artists on tumblr #fan art #star wars fanart #star wars: the clone wars #commander cody #alpha 17 #Interactive Art Week March 2024 #Palette Challenge #Alpha-17: Life sucks and it always does you dirty #Alpha-17 @ Order-66: …Well that was just UNNECCESSARY #Kinda offended kinda inspired to pitch in and maybe die just like normal but this time with Personal Investment #Normal people: I came for you [relieving/sounds like a promise of loyalty and dedication]#Alpha-17: I came for you [Grim Reaper Vibes]#It’s just his attitude but he means it well

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slayfics · 11 months

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Hello! Hello! I saw you recent oneshot and the other chapters and I clearly LOVED IT!

And I was wondering if I could request a oneshot or a head cannon any will do just fine, It's like this...The reader has been trying to befriend Muichiro ever since the final selection, but Muichiro actually finds her annoying and bothersome because they never leave him alone most of the time, Then after the swordsmith village arc the part where he regains his memories, Muichiro found out that The reader who has been with him this entire time was his childhood friend, he was of course shocked and worried because all he did to her was decline her offer for lunch and saying rude things to her without ever knowing that they were the person they were with the most in his childhood.

And the ending is up to you! And ofcourse this can be read as platonic or romantic

And please take your time you don't have to rush! And thank you for your hard work!

You were Muichiro’s childhood friend.

You thought you were seeing things the firs time you saw Muichiro pass by you in his corps uniform. You recognized your childhood friend instantly, you couldn't misplace that long hair anywhere. It broke your heart when he passed by you so casually without even a hello. It didn't take you long to figure out something had changed.

"Muichiro!!" You yelled and caught up with him.

"Hello, do you need something? Also please call me Tokito." He responded.

"Oh..." You knew something bad must have happened for him to have joined the demon slayer corps... and not seeing his brother with him was rare... you wondered if the same demon that past through your house and destroyed your family had done the same to his. After all your families didn't live that far away. Usually you would meet at the lake when the season was right for fishing.

It was hard to believe the Muichiro splashing around in the water with you and his brother catching fish was the same boy standing in front of you now.

"It's been so long, how have you been?" You managed to ask gathering your thoughts.

"We have met before? I don't remember..." He said and seemed to zone off.

"Umm... don't worry abut it." You said. It worried you seeing your friend disassociate like this. It was clear to you some awful trauma must have happened to him to have caused this... and not seeing his bother with him must mean... You decided not to finish that thought.

"Would you like to get food with me?" You offered, hoping to spend more time with your friend.

"No. I don't have time." He responded and turned to leave.

He was definitely not the same.

You tried again and again to offer to eat or train with Muichiro. His answer was always the same. No. He didn't have time. He didn't care to train with you... In fact his answers became shorter and meaner every time, but you never gave up on him. You hoped that maybe he would remember who you were if you stayed around.

All you wanted was some reembrace of your past life... those nice summer days when your families met at the river to fish and swim. Just the memory of being a kid with no knowledge of demons made your throat feel tight and eyes watery. You also didn't want to pressure him or make him feel awful for not remembering you though. You wondered how much he didn't remember. Did he not even know he had a twin? What did happen to Yuichiro....

Yuichiro was never your favorite but coming to terms with the likely fact hat he was dead brought tears to your eyes.

You managed to corner Muichiro one day at the swordsmith village when he happened to be getting a new sword the same time as you. You were both staying in the same building and were invited to eat in the common area by the swordsmith housing you.

"Muichiro! Hi! What are you doling here?” You asked cheerfully.

"Retrieving a new sword, and please call me Tokito." He responded and went back to eating.

"Ok ok Tokito." You said trying to laugh off his formalness. You went to eat and realized the fish they had cooked today was Muichiro's favorite fish to catch and eat when you were children. "Wow how lucky are you! It's your favorite!" You said without thinking.

"Hm?" Muichiro looked up at you with confused eyes. "How did you know that..." He said and zoned off again staring at you as if he was trying to hard to remember something.

"Oh you must have told me in passing sometime. Please don't worry too much about it ok." You said trying hard to bring your friend back. It pained you to see him dissociate so easily. Muichiro just started at you with wide eyes for a moment then stood up and started to leave.

"Ok bye!" You said jokily at his silent exit.

"Goodbye..." He turned around one last time before leaving "What was your name again..." He said but almost to him self and left.

You retrieved your sword the next day and headed back out on a mission. The news traveled fast to you of the demon attack on swordsmith village that happened the day after you left. You were sick to your stomach thinking of Muichiro but you knew you'd have to wait a few days before visiting him. Shinobu and Aoi were no joke about giving Hashiras space to heal.

In the meantime you tried to keep yourself busy with missions and tasks. You were in the middle of making yourself some dinner when you heard a knock at your door. You opened it and felt instantly paralyzed by the sight of Muichiro at your front door.

"What are you doing here Tokito?? You should be resting! Are you ok!??" You exclaimed looking at the bandages on his face. Muichiro swiftly wrapped his arms around you and brought you into a tight embrace.

"I remember. I remember everything. We grew up by the river together. We would meet in the summer's to fish and to swim. You played with me and Yuichiro... Then... I didn't see you for a long while... Then a demon came and attacked me and Yuichiro... and I'm so very regretful of how I have treated you recently..." He said into your shoulder as he kept you in a tight hug. You could hear tears in his voice and feel him shake as he spoke.

"Come in Tokito, we can talk more." You said squeezing him back wishing you could take away the pain he was reliving all over again. He finally released you from the hug and looked up at you.

"Please call me Muichiro." He said causing a smile to grow across your face. Muichiro took in your smile, a smile that he now remembered fondly. He couldn't wait to reminisce in the memories you two shared by the river, and hopefully make more memories in the time to come.

Thank you! It makes me so happy you enjoy my writing. I hope you enjoy this fic as well and thank you for the request~

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icycoldninja · 2 months

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Hi can I request headcanons about Vergil with a s/o who has habit of giving him THE STARE. Not out of malice but because they just like watching his face lol. Thank you a lot (っ'-')╮=͟͟͞͞❤

Ahahaha I can genuinely relate to this one, ( I spend too much time staring at Vergil I swear) enjoy! 💜

Vergil x Reader who stares a lot headcannons

Sorry about the big-ass image, I couldn't shrink it. (Not mine btw)

-Being an observant guy, Vergil quickly noticed that you were staring at him, but brushed it off as you simply being curious about him, which was understandable--he was a son of Sparda.

-Your gaze was piercing; it seemed to blast right through his skin and deep down into his flesh--no, beyond that--into his soul. He wasn't certain of how you possessed the ability to stare so predatorily, and wasn't sure if he wanted to find out.

-Over time, he noticed that your staring wasn't just curious nor intent, it was like you were observing him; analyzing and spying on him for some reason. Why? What did you want form him?

-He started getting a little uncomfortable, thinking that perhaps you were plotting something devious.

-Eventually, he decided to ask you directly abut it, hoping his intimidating presence would get you to tell him the truth.

-It worked; you were terrified of the way he was glaring at you so you nervously, hastily, and shakily confessed that you simply like looking at him.

-It took him a full 5 minutes to realize what that meant. Once the thought settled in, he nearly fainted. You liked looking at him? Why? You thought he was handsome? Him? Vergil Sparda, the son of Sparda, was considered handsome? By you? Why?!

-He had absolutely no idea what to say to that so he stomped away, stiff as a board.

-From that point onward, the issue was never spoken of again; you continued staring at Vergil's face, taking in every feature, and he remained sitting there, stoically allowing you to observe his every move.

-He honestly didn't mind it--the silent attention was appreciated.

-Occasionally, when the two of you are seated in the same room and no one but you is looking, he will reach up and smooth his hair back, very slowly and sensually, keeping eye contact with you the entire time.

-Just don't tell anyone why you're doing it and Vergil will let you stare at him until your eyes water, and might even stare back with his icy blue ones.

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moonchildstyles · 2 years

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someone making a comment about prosecco h about how he should date his age and it sends yn into a spiral like "oh god this isn't a good idea"

Would love to see the first fight for Prosecco (or any one i love the first fight one shots for ur other series lol)

Prosecco angst!! Pleaseeeee

wordcount: 14k+

—————

"(Y/N), love, c'mon."

Harry's feigned exasperation fell short the more his smile grew. His arms were wrapped securely around her waist as she clung to him, legs hitched around his hips in her effort to not let him go.

"I don't want you to leave."

(Y/N)'s pout could be heard from miles away, Harry didn't even need the confirmation of her puffed lips pressed against his throat. He only sighed at her whining, the sentiment the same thing she'd been saying since he unraveled himself from the sheets of his bed and her legs.

"We've spent the whole weekend together, haven't we?" he attempted to soothe her, running his palm along the span of her back, "And, you'll still be here when I come home, right? No reason to pout about that, is there?"

"Yes, there is," she argued, her petulant tone making Harry's grin widen, "I don't want you to leave at all. Tell them you're sick and we'll lay in bed all day. You can go to work tomorrow instead, when I have class and can't miss you."

"That's the same thing y'told me last week, and I really did take the day off, remember?" he told her, walking them back to the kitchen counter where his abandoned mug of coffee sat in wait after he was distracted, "Don't think I can get away with that again, sweetheart."

A quiet humph sounded from where she was huddled in his neck as he settled her on the ledge of the kitchen counter. Despite the stable surface now under her bottom, she didn't bother to unravel herself from around Harry's form, thighs still cinched around his hips and arms looped around his neck.

"Can you work from home, then?"

"I wish, but I don't have any of m'things with me. And, I've got to be at a meeting today with some of our new clients." Harry dropped a kiss to her shoulder once he saw them deflate at all the reasons he couldn't stay him and lie in with her, no matter how much he wanted to.

"Fine," she relented, peeling herself away from his neck only enough to get a look at his face.

Just as he expected, even though she was giving up on her fight, her features were still molded into the sad puppy look she had begun to realize was something he had a hard time resisting.

"Don't look so sad, darling," he cooed to her, ducking his head to press a kiss to the tip of he nose, "I'll be home soon, 'kay? Y'can even call me on my lunch if y'really miss me that much."

"We just had so much fun this weekend, I don't want it to be over already," she told him, canting her head to the side as she gazed up at him.

"We did, didn't we?" he smiled at her, thinking abut their weekend full of nothing but lounging around in bed and going out to eat when (Y/N) got too antsy in the house and wanted to dress up. "I promise we'll do it all again this weekend, pretty girl. Jus' need to get through work first, right?"

"Okay," she sighed, "Maybe we can go to the aquarium this weekend?"

Harry's smile winded at her words, dimples deep in his cheeks. "We can definitely do that, sweetheart. I'll buy the tickets today, alright?"

She brightened some at his promise, giving him the smile he was missing since she decided to be his pouty girl. "Thank you, H."

His arms around her waist tightened at her quiet gratitude. There was nothing he loved more than making her happy. With his grip, he pulled her just to the edge of the kitchen counter as her body relaxed, legs now dangling on either side of his with her arms a loose loop around his neck.

"Now, give me a kiss before I go. 'M already going to be running late," Harry requested, dipping his head down with a nudge to her nose with his own.

(Y/N) complied with no convincing, happily pressing her lips to his. Her kiss tasted like the fruit he cubed up for her for breakfast, warding off the bitter afternotes of the coffee he barely had time to brush from his teeth before (Y/N) pounced on him with pleas to stay home.

"Love you," he murmured against her lips, planting a small smattering of pecks across her mouth before pulling away.

"Love you, too," she told him, bright smile on her lips, "Text me when you're on lunch so I can call you."

"You know I will, darling," he told her, giving her one more kiss before finally stepping out from between her legs.

(Y/N) hopped off the counter and followed him for the send off, the length his button down swaying over her thighs as she followed him. As much as he hated to leave her, the idea of her waiting at his home for him, dressed in his clothes and full of love for him made his heart race. He'd never had someone to come home to like this, even if they weren't officially moved in together yet. That thought made the days a little easier to get through.

With one more blown kiss in her direction and a wave before he pulled off, Harry tried his best to start his day despite the fact he was leaving his heart behind.

—————

(Y/N) was bored.

Harry's house wasn't that fun when he wasn't there with her, she decided. She went through and finished up the laundry they started the day before and changed the sheets out on his bed, and even made sure she had all of her toiletries packed up in her bag so she could go home after dinner tonight, but that only filled a few hours before she was lounging on his couch watching a reality dating show she couldn't believe really found love for these people. Her only saving grace was the fact that the lunch hour was approaching.

Despite the fact she had already promised to call him during the break this morning, these lonesome hours allowed her to think up an idea that sounded much more fun the longer she laid out on his couch.

She was going to go see him.

She was going to pick up some lunch on the way there, and actually go see him for the first time at his big office. Planning her outfit took all of twenty minutes as she refused to take off his shirt, deciding to pair it with a pair of jeans that Harry had told her made her butt look good and the pearled headband she wore on their first date. It was a fun distraction, getting ready, as she primped her hair and did her skincare routine—forgoing makeup for the day—before placing a pickup order at Harry's favorite little diner he takes her to when she's hungry in the middle of the night. She couldn't wait to surprise him.

The drive to the diner was a familiar one, a quick stop that had her bubbling with excitement as she double checked the order of Harry's favorite meal and all his fixings (he loved this melt they had, the ingredients basically making up a grilled cheese until Harry added all of these bits and extras that elevated it to a 'melt' instead). As soon as she had today's lunch packed away in the passenger seat, (Y/N) put the address of Harry's office building into her GPS. A canopy of butterflies made their way through her tummy as her ETA approached with every mile she drove to his office. She'd never been before, and the fact that Harry wasn't expecting her added another layer to her bubbling nerves. Hopefully, she could find the place—and his office—easily so she couldn't have to ruin the surprise with a call asking him for directions.

Once the towering building came into view, (Y/N) realized just how many times she'd passed it on the way to her labs for her required science class her first year of university. The glossy windows shone in the sun's rays, gleaming almost as brightly as the blocky lettering that detailed the company name over the top floor of the structure. She knew his job was important, that he made a good living and met high-profile people, but she never figured it was this important. If she was being honest, what she had pictured was a building in a business plaza with a few floors to spare for the different departments, Harry's office settled on the highest one (at max, the fifth floor). Looking at the scale of his job, she now felt a little guilty for convincing him to call in the previous week. (That didn't mean she wasn't planning on doing it again, though).

With their lunches in hand, the plastic bag hanging off her wrist as she locked her car, (Y/N) craned her neck to gaze up the height of the building. If Harry was important as she figured he would be—should be—, he was at the top behind one of those glossy windows. He probably had a killer view.

Going through the glass doors, (Y/N) saw a luxurious waiting room complete with a receptionist smiling behind a glass desk and a shiny set of elevators pinging behind her as people came and went. It was definitely the lunch hour if the amount of suited people sifting through the lobby with lunch pails and takeaway containers to some of the fancier restaurants nearby was anything to go by.

"Hello," the receptionist greeted her, a bright smile on her face as that could rival the gleaming plate on her desk that detailed her name to be Seline. "Are you here to drop off a lunch delivery?"

Glancing down at her casual look and a bag of food at her side, (Y/N) couldn't blame her for thinking she was just here to drop off some executive's food order. The one day she doesn't feel like getting all dressed up to see him.

"Oh, no," she laughed, carefully approaching the desk so she didn't make any scoffs with the worn soles of her shoes, "I'm actually here to see Harry Styles? I think he's supposed to be on his lunch break right now, so I was hoping I could eat with him if you wouldn't mind telling me where I can find his office."

"Oh," Seline chirped with a raise of her brows, glancing down at the desktop Mac stationed on the surface of her glass desk, "I see. And may I ask for your name?"

"Right, sorry, I'm (Y/N). His girlfriend." (Y/N) hated the way her answer felt like a question with the way her tone tilted upwards at the end. She was beginning to feel so out of place in this building, she even doubted her own name.

"His girlfriend?" Seline deadpanned, her eyes flicking from her screen to fix on (Y/N). Though she still held a pleasant expression on her face, there was something vacant entering her smile, like she wasn't entirely sure what to do about this situation.

"Yeah," she affirmed with a jerky nod, her hair fluttering behind the hold of the headband crowing her head, "It's kind of a surprise, so..."

(Y/N) cringed as she trailed off, wishing she had thought through her statement before she opened her mouth.

"Oh, okay," Seline smiled, the edges turning down some as she tapped away at her keyboard. After pressing definitively on the enter key, the receptionist looked up with an apology in her eyes, "Unfortunately, I'm not able to let anyone up to see any of the executives unless I have express permission from them or an appointment on their schedule. But, I can take a message for you and let him know you stopped by?"

A kind of anxiety (Y/N) hadn't felt since her first day of college swept through her system. She was sure Seline was doing her job, following policies in place that made the most of Harry and his colleagues' time, but (Y/N) had never felt more stupid or out of place in her life. Another set of employees dressed in suits and skirts, everything creaseless with precise pleats and expensive shoes that clacked over the tiled floor made their way out of the elevator, making (Y/N) feel that much more out of place with the holes in her jeans and the wrinkles in her borrowed shirt. She hadn't even bothered to brush her hair before she left.

The bag of food at her side crinkled as she shifted, grabbing for her phone from her pocket. "Um, could I actually give him a call, really quick? I-I'm sure he'll let me up, I just didn't know he needed to let you know."

"Of course, take your time," Seline offered, dropping her skeptical gaze to (Y/N)'s flowery cased phone, "As soon as I have his permission come through my system, I can buzz the elevator for you."

Peeping out a thank you, (Y/N) scurried off to one of the white leather seats that decorated the waiting area. She was sure no one was paying her any mind as she fiddled with her phone, getting frustrated when her Face I.D. wasn't accepted with the way her hands were shaking, but she swore every person that passed through the waiting area—especially Seline—had their eyes glued to the silly girl that was trying to bypass protocol to see her 'boyfriend'.

By the time she had the phone pressed to her ear with Harry's contact pulled up, (Y/N) worried she was going to scream if the plastic bag with their food crinkled one more time in the quiet lobby.

"Sweetheart, I was jus' about to text you," Harry greeted her, his voice offering a flood of relief.

"Harry, hi—uh—I'm at your office." She cringed as the words left her mouth, knowing Seline could definitely hear the way she wobbled through her words. "But—um—I'm not allowed up until you say its okay."

"You are? Sweetheart, I'm so sorry, I didn't know y'were coming," Harry prattled off after a beat, the sound of a keyboard tapping in the background.

"It's okay, I was trying to surprise you with lunch and everything," she murmured, feeling silly now in her plan. Of course she wasn't going to be escorted to someone's corporate office without some kind of permission or appointment. At least they were getting it figured out.

"Oh, pretty girl," Harry cooed through the phone, his smile evident in his tone, "That's so sweet of you. I can't wait to see you." He paused for a moment before she heard a ping on the line. "Alright, I sent my access code down to Seline, she'll buzz y'right up, yeah? Once you're on m'floor, just need to take a right to Shelly's desk and you'll need to tell her your name but she'll let you in right away."

"Thank you, H," she sighed as her shoulders sagged in relief. With a proper plan in place, (Y/N) could breathe. "Love you."

"Love you too, gorgeous. I'll see you in a minute."

After hanging up, Seline waved her over as soon as (Y/N) stowed her phone in her pocket. "Mr. Styles' permission just came through!" she beamed at her, "I'm so sorry about that confusion, Ms. (Y/N). Mr. Styles just didn't let me know he was expecting anyone and you look so young, I was worried a daughter of one of his clients got a little too attached over a client dinner or something." Seline laughed as if she had told (Y/N) one of her funniest jokes as she clicked away at her keyboard, the up arrow above one of the elevators lighting up as she pressed enter. Swiping a keycard from a drawer on her desk, Seline handed it out with a polite smile on her face. "Scan this at the elevator, and go to floor twenty. Have a nice lunch, Ms. (Y/N)."

(Y/N) swallowed as she took the keycard, reciprocating the polite smile the receptionist gave her though (Y/N) could bet her own was nothing more than a shaky imitation. She worked robotically as she followed the directions she was given, the keycard taking a moment to scan as she couldn't steady her hand.

She looked so young that Seline worried she was a daughter of one of Harry's clients coming to stalk him? Alone in the elevator with her distorted reflecting staring back at her in the mirrored panels that slated the walls, (Y/N) didn't know what to think. Of course it was never a secret that there was a lengthy gap in age between she and H—the very reason he had waited so long in becoming close to her—but never had that fact been so blatantly presented to her.

Sure, (Y/N) didn't do herself any favors with her makeup-less face and rumpled outfit, but she didn't think she particularly looked like someone's teen daughter who sought after a man of her father's demographic. Shaking off the comment, she tried to remind herself of the relief of finally getting out of that lobby and getting closer and closer to her Harry—her comfort zone. All she had to do was talk to Shelly, and she was in. No more crinkling plastic bag or scuffs of her shoes over the expensive tile.

Once the elevator dinged, the number twenty illuminated over the door, (Y/N) let out a breath. This floor held the same ambiance as the waiting room she'd just left—clean lines, light colors, and glass fixtures everywhere. Office doors with titles and names lined the length of the hall. Each sprawling end was serrated by the lobby area that almost perfectly emulated the one below, only smaller.

The same glass desk as Seline's was stationed in the middle of the lobby, the main fixture in the area with the gleaming iMac and tall vase of neutral flowers on the edge. A desk plate inscribed with Shelly across the brass shone in the sunlight seeping through the windows. But, there was no Shelly to be seen.

Peering down the hall, (Y/N) spotted what looked like it could be the office to the Chief Officer of Brand Relationships, or his better known name: Harry Styles. Without Shelly there, and her safe haven within her sights, (Y/N) figured she'd just toe her way down the hall and get to his office by herself. Just as she moved to bypass the glass desk, the sound of heels tapping over the elaborately titled floors sounded from the hall behind her.

Looking over her shoulder, (Y/N) paused when she realized who was clicking over the floor.

"Hello, sorry about that I was—" Shelly cut herself off, her brows furrowing once she was close enough to realize who was standing in her lobby, "(Y/N)?"

"Hi, Shelly," (Y/N) awkwardly greeted her, taking in her classmate from the Business English course she took before (Y/N) realized she would rather die than have anything to do with writing business polices and handbook guides. She'd never seen Shelly so dressed up, used to her curls being tied into a poof on the top of her head with baggy sweatsuits covering her form. Here, she was clad in a smart skirt with the matching top tucked in, complete with the resounding heels that clacked over the floor, hair in defined and shiny ringlets. (Y/N) swallowed before she spoke again, "I didn't know you worked here."

"Oh yeah," Shelly waved off, a pinch remaining in her brow, "this is where I do my internship hours."

When she paused, this is what (Y/N) had been scared of. She and Shelly certainly weren't close enough to maintain a bubbling conversation with anything other than surface level small talk before settling into a static silence.

"That's nice," (Y/N) smiled, forcing herself to keep from grabbing for her phone out of habit at the feel of the awkward air, "How do you like it?"

Shelly gave her a generic smile, one she most likely trained herself for with this job. "It's really nice, thanks for asking. Super nice place, and the food is awesome around here so there's always fun lunch breaks to be had." They both broke out into polite laughs, (Y/N) trying to ease herself when she saw Shelly's eyes drop to the plastic bag at her side. "Are you here dropping off food for someone?"

Round two begins.

"Oh no," (Y/N) shook her head, schooling her features as best she could, "I'm here to see—um—Harry Styles, actually. He said he sent a permi—"

"You're Mr. Styles' girlfriend?"

(Y/N) nervously began to pluck at the buttons of her top with her restless fingers. Though her smile was beginning to waver, she kept up her polite facade. "That's me," she chirped with a shrug, faux-nonchalance greasing her joints.

"Oh," Shelly sounded, eyes wide with brows raised as she rounded the side of her desk. In seconds her gaze was flitting over her computer screen, incredulous look still pasted to her face by the time she finally looked up at (Y/N) again. "You're the one that talked to Seline downstairs?"

"Yeah," (Y/N) replied simply, unsure of where else to go with a question like that.

Shelly hummed, leaning down and typing out something on the keyboard before she stood to the full of her height and gave her attention to (Y/N), though she wished she could give it back. "You're having lunch with him today?"

"Yeah," she parroted, the bag at her side crinkling at the worst time, "I called him when I was downstairs, so he should know I'm here and everything already."

"Right," Shelly laughed, shaking her head with a fluff to her curls as she seemingly remembered where she was, "Sorry about that. I got Seline's message that Mr. Styles' girlfriend was here to see him, you're just not what I was expecting." She rounded her desk once more with a pleasant smile, heels clacking.

Gesturing for (Y/N) to follow her with a quiet right this way, Shelly started her down the same hallway (Y/N) had seen Harry's nameplate. As much as she had wanted to scurry away and hide in Harry's office before, (Y/N) dragged her feet during the trek. Maybe she was nothing but a glutton for punishment, unable to let the draining weeds growing in her head go unfed, but she couldn't help herself before the next question left her lips.

"What do you mean?"

"Hm?" Shelly hummed, falling back to walk in line with (Y/N).

"Just—I mean..." (Y/N) stuttered, cringing at herself for stumbling so hard over her words in the quiet hallway. "Um, what were you expecting when you heard his girlfriend was coming?"

"Oh," Shelly chirped, slowing even further as she directed her gaze to the ceiling with a pucker to her lips as she thought. "No one specific, really. I don't know, I figured it would be some kind of executive lady, or something. Oh, wait! Do you remember Prof Frances?"

(Y/N) stopped herself from taking in the deep breath that ached to be a sigh at the mention of one of the teachers that was well known across campus. She was a super beautiful woman, someone that people were known to take her class for with only the intention of staring at her and trying their hand at flirting with her during office hours. She was a kind woman, reserved and quiet when not up front lecturing, but held the kind of confidence that only came with age and loving the body you were in and the person you were. She was grown. Of course, Shelly would picture someone like that for Harry.

Cool, confident, and sure of herself. Her beauty was only a plus and her age was much more well matched for Shelly's Mr. Styles.

"I remember her."

"I guess I pictured someone like her then," Shelly bubbled off, shrugging her shoulders as they came to a stop by Harry's door, "All tall and dark and everything. I definitely wasn't expecting one of my classmates."

(Y/N) gave a polite laugh to Shelly's attempt at a joke. She felt entirely too stiff in the lungs and tight in her tummy to think of anything sunny at the the moment.

"It was really nice to see you, though," Shelly chirped, eyes bright as she turned, "Let me know when you're planning on coming by next time, and I can tell Seline so she can have the keycard and everything waiting for you."

Getting out a weak thanks, (Y/N) watched as Shelly knocked on Harry's office door before cracking it open enough to stick her head through and let him know his guest was here. The sound of Harry's deep voice sounding through his office, though muffled by the time it reached (Y/N)'s ears, did enough to soothe her anxieties before she was ushered over the threshold with Shelly shutting the door behind her.

"Hi, sweetheart," Harry smiled at her, rising from his spot behind his desk with open arms, "'M so happy to see you, c'mere."

It was instinct the way she moved across the office, dropping the bag of food into one of the chairs opposing his desk with her bag and keys. (Y/N) smushed her face against his chest as soon as she was close enough, looping her arms around his middle while Harry's became a cradle around her shoulders.

"Hi," she peeped against his chest, eyes falling closed.

"My pretty girl," he hummed as he dropped a kiss to the top of her head. "Best surprise ever, you know that?"

"Good," she tried to laugh, urging her lungs to relax, "I was starting to worry that I wasn't supposed to be here."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, unpeeling himself from around her. Shifting his grip, he laced a hand through hers while he reached for the bag of food on his desk, a smile appearing on his face when he noticed the restaurant name on the plastic.

Flashing back to the tight air that filtered through the lobby downstairs and the unexpected run-in with a classmate, (Y/N) only shrugged. Fanning her gaze across his office, she followed after him as he took her to the comfortable pair of chairs stationed by the floor to ceiling window that plated one side of his office. The perfect spot to schmooze clients and lunch with other executives.

"It's just really fancy here, and all," (Y/N) settled on as she sunk into the plush leather of the chair.

A huffed laugh left Harry's lips as he doled out the contents of the bag, packets of silverware and napkins being shared on the sidetable planted between the chairs. "Yeah, a little, isn't it? Definitely not what it used to be when I started working here."

(Y/N) only nodded as he spoke, a small smile on her face. She wanted to be here with Harry, talking about his work, seeing his excitement when he realized what she picked up for him, or just allowing the fact she was spending time with him to wash over her. She wanted all of that, but each time she felt herself relax, a moment of Seline's quickly concealed judgement or Shelly's bordering-on-disrespectful surprise flashed through her memory.

Should she even be here right now?

"Pretty girl, y'got me my melt!" Harry chirped with a bright smile, bringing her attention back to the moment where an unopened takeaway box sat on her lap.

A genuine curve of her lips molded her features. This was what she had been looking forward to when she thought up her plan. "And, I even made sure they put all that gross stuff you like on there."

Harry scoffed and made a face as he reached for a pack of cutlery. "'S not gross to have mushrooms on a melt, love. At least 'm not dipping it in ketchup or something worse."

With a pointed glance in her direction, Harry waited for the explosion she was going to give him.

"Harry Styles, that was one time, and I was drunk. It's not fair to keep bringing that up!"

The bright smile on his face was reward enough for all the trouble she'd gone through to make it to his office. "'S jus' shocking, that's all," Harry pressed, his curls falling over his forehead as he shook his head, "As a self-proclaimed grilled cheese purist, I expected a little better out of you."

Rolling her eyes, (Y/N) cracked open her own box. From the corner of her eye, she could see Harry digging into his lunch, spinach leaves and avocado smears edging out the back of the sandwich.

"You know," he started, swallowing down his bite while (Y/N) twirled her side of macaroni on her fork, "y'should be happy that's the most embarrassing thing you've done around me while drunk. By the time I was your age, I had friends who had to babysit me at parties after this one time I tried to eat some girl's cigarette. I only have photos to prove that even happened, though because I don't remember a second of it."

Normally, (Y/N) would have been enamored at the mention of what Harry was like when he was university aged like her. But, today the phrase of when I was your age, struck a cord in her.

There hadn't been too much thought in her head about their age gap when she met Harry. The only time she had really thought about it was when Harry brought it up, telling her that he hadn't wanted to pursue her sooner in hopes of avoiding making her uncomfortable. When he had told her that, she remembered the way she canted her head to the side with a furrow in her brow; the fact he was thirty-five (or close to, when they met) hadn't been something that sounded all that bad to her. If he had showed her any kind of interest earlier, (Y/N) wouldn't have given it a single thought before trying to subtly flirt her way into his life.

Today had been the first time she really had to confront their age gap in a way that didn't make her feel protected and warm.

Sure, she could understand a moment's hesitation. They weren't a traditional coupling, and that was fine, but hearing more than once that she was not what others had expected to be Harry's girlfriend got under her skin. The mention of a previous professor just about sealed the deal for (Y/N).

Of course, someone his age would be able to bond over the same things they grew up with, the same formative years and pop culture references. Of course, he would be better matched to someone with the same level of maturity who was on the same chapter of their life.

"What's got y'thinking so hard over there, sweetheart? Making me nervous y'jus' remembered y'left the stove on or something." Harry's joking brought her back to the present, the bright open space of his office greeting her from where she emerged in the back of her head.

(Y/N) shook her head, "Nothing. I was watching Love Island before I left, and those people are so weird sometimes." As expected Harry's smile turned crooked at the mention of the television show she had managed to get him sucked into on more than one occasion.

"Yeah? What happened this time?"

"Too much, I'll have to show you later," (Y/N) brushed off. She could barely remember half of the contestants' names right now, let alone recall any specific scene of the episode she watched today. She had much bigger things on her mind. "Can I ask you something, H?"

The responding hum he gave her was enough to have (Y/N) pushing at the fries littering her takeaway box as she tried to construct her question.

"Have you... You've told people about us, right?"

Harry nodded his head as he plucked a dangling piece of spinach off his melt. "Yeah, I've mentioned y'to my colleagues and all and talked about you at a couple of events and everything. Why?"

Urging herself to be nonchalant, (Y/N) tried her best despite the robotic motion of her shoulders as she shrugged. "Both of the people I talked to—the receptionists—seemed really surprised to see me."

"I mean, y'surprised even me, sweetheart," Harry laughed, smiling around the French fry he tossed in his mouth.

"I know. I guess, it was like they were surprised to see me. Like, they couldn't believe that I was your girlfriend." (Y/N) zipped her lips before she could manage to spill any more of what was running through her head while she had been pinned under the microscope of his employee's gazes.

A furrow pinched at his brow as he wiped at his mouth. "I don't really show pictures of you, or anything since 's no one's business," Harry paused as he spoke, "But, I can start doing that if y'want? Was thinking about putting a picture of you on m'desk anyway, so we can start there."

While the mention of being a fixture on Harry's work desk was a sweet sentiment, that wasn't exactly what she had been shooting for. She didn't know how to tell him about what had happened out in the waiting areas, not wanting to cause any problems or drama, and Harry didn't seem to understand what she was hinting at. She could always bring it up later, once he was out of his work clothes and (Y/N) wasn't feeling so raw from the experience.

With that thought, (Y/N) brushed off the memories and sunk herself into the leather of her chair.

"You'd put me on your desk?" she smiled at him, trying not to picture what Seline or Shelly would do if they saw a photograph of Mr. Styles with his co-ed girlfriend in his office.

"Course," Harry cemented, a sweet smile on his features, "It'd be a whole lot easier than unlocking m'phone every five minutes to see your picture."

Though there was a dark corner in the back of her mind that couldn't even begin to prune the poisonous weeds growing there, (Y/N) did her best to accept Harry's sweetness as it was.

He loved her and she loved him back just as much, that was all that mattered.

—————

By the time (Y/N) made it back to Harry's house, she couldn't think of another time she had been this exhausted.

Lunch with him was perfect after she managed to banish those inflammatory feelings from her mind, but it was the trek back downstairs when his lunch hour was up that wrung her out. Shelly was behind her desk when (Y/N) left Harry's office, giving her a polite smile and see you later pinged in (Y/N)'s head knowing that the next time she would see the receptionist would be on her college campus. Seline was just as polite, but still vacant as she flicked her gaze to (Y/N)'s shoes that squeaked over the tile on accident.

It was nothing they said, but the way they looked at her that had (Y/N) fidgeting on the drive back. Shelly could be a bit of a gossip from what (Y/N) could remember back when they shared a class, and it wouldn't surprise her to find out that the ding she heard from Seline's computer was a message from Shelly dishing about Mr. Styles' girlfriend.

(Y/N) was an overthinker and she knew that. The stupidest things in class could have her up at night analyzing every moment in fear she said the wrong thing or wasn't nice enough in a single moment. Everything with Andrew and Iris that happened forever ago had made her lose many weeks of sleep trying to figure out where she had gone wrong to cause either of them to treat her so poorly. When she and Harry started getting closer, she remembered the nights she would lay with her eyes on the ceiling trying to figure out if the way he said 'just friends' really meant they were only friends or if she should put more stock in the way he held her to his side and clung to her hand as he walked her home. She spun herself out on more than one occasion, and it appeared her power was needed once more.

Stepping over the threshold to his house, (Y/N) was washed over with Harry's scent. Though the hallmarks of the typical comfort she felt walking into his space remained, she still had that lingering feeling of being out of place. Just like she had at his office.

She kept her shoes on as she trekked through the space, forgoing the usual ritual of shucking them off before placing them beside Harry's own collection by the door. Her bag hung limply in her hand as he walked down the hall. She felt ready to bolt at a moment's notice like a spooked animal.

Though he was partial to hanging art pieces through his home, Harry still had his fair share of personal photos pasted to the walls. A panel dedicated to his family and friends stole (Y/N)'s attention as she approached his room, eyes grazing the pictures. Many were with the friend group she was now apart of, majority with Harry's closest friends of the bunch, Mitch and Sarah. She could see holidays and getaways spent with his people; tan as he vacationed with Mitch and Tom and Jeff in Jamaica, and bundled up with a cap covering his curls while spending time in Japan.

Trailing her eyes through the photographs, Harry's smile seemed to show the brightest in pictures with his family. More often than not, his mother and sister were tucked underneath his arms, matching smiles on their faces as they gazed into the lens. The trio of them all looked so similar; dark hair and pretty eyes, dimples and high cheekbones.

(Y/N) wondered if his mom smiled like that when Harry told her about his girlfriend. When he told her that his girlfriend was still in university and had to have Harry order for her when they went out because she was too anxious to do it herself. Did those dimples still crater her cheeks when Harry detailed out how his girlfriend's ID was still skeptically looked at by bouncers and bartenders, a handful of them even blatantly asking if it was a fake or giving Harry a dirty look for corralling some young girl out to the bars with him. (Y/N) wondered how his sister reacted the first time she saw a photo of them on instagram, and even moreso when she had inevitably perused (Y/N)'s page after and found teenaged photos that weren't that far down the feed.

Did either of them look the way Seline had? Did they share that same shocked surprise that Shelly had written all over her face?

Shaking her head, (Y/N) willed herself to go to his room, tearing her gaze from the wall of photos that she was only using to hurt her own feelings. Those weeds of doubt that had sprouted back at Harry's office had vined around her mind and taken her hostage with no escape route in place.

(Y/N) knew in her heart that Harry was her perfect match; she could trust herself on that decision. No one had loved or cared for her the way he did. No one she had ever known texted her in the middle of the day just because they saw a bundle of clouds that looked like this little plush dog (Y/N) had loved as a kid. No one called her first thing in the morning with the express purpose of leaving her a voicemail to wake up to.

She knew that Harry was her perfect match, but maybe she wasn't his.

Was she holding him back? There could be someone out there that could actually relate to him when he brought up some toy he had as a kid that was discontinued before (Y/N) was even born. Someone who could afford to treat him to more than a cup of coffee or lunch at a greasy diner. There could be someone who could fit him better, but he was too busy entertaining her to find them.

Sinking into the edge of his mattress, (Y/N) hung her head in her hands with her elbows digging into her thighs. She knew she needed to stop herself right now, right where she was in her never-ending process of negativity. She wasn't being rational.

Harry loved her and he wouldn't waste his time on someone the didn't believe was worth it. And, (Y/N) knew she loved him just as much, if not more than he did her. Spiraling over all of this wasn't helpful to anyone, especially when she knew there was no reason to doubt her gut or her place in Harry's life.

But, that insecurity that rooted itself in her brain and guilt that had flooded in along with it wasn't that easy to boot.

Pulling her head from her hands, she looked to the mess of her stuff she had made by his closet door, duffle bag left open with her clothes spilling out from all sides. (Y/N) sighed as she stood up, reaching down to clean up the mess she left on his floor after rifling through for her outfit for the day. In a pang of bitterness, she couldn't help but knock herself down with the thought that Prof Frances would never leave a mess like this at Harry's house. She was too mature, and put together to leave her charging cable laying along the floor with extra underwear hanging out of the side pocket to her bag.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) shoved her things harder into her bag, wrinkling and mushing her clothes into a lump of fabric. She was mad at herself for getting so hung up over this all; it wasn't even bad what was said today! Sure it was a bit annoying to be compared to a teenager and told that her old professor would be a more predictable fit for Harry, but no one was out to hurt her feelings—it had only been herself knocking her down. Slumping back on her heels before her bag, (Y/N) wondered if she might have better luck of shaking this feeling if she just went home.

There, she could shower using her fancy body scrub that was too hard to transport for sleepovers at Harry's, use her sweet-smelling shampoo and even do a face mask and wipe away everything that had bothered her today. At home she could lick her wounds and be a better partner to Harry when she wasn't so raw and down on herself. While she thought she hid it pretty well over lunch how upset she was, she knew it wasn't fair to Harry to wait for him to come home after a long day and pretend she was in the best of moods.

With a sigh, brows pinched at the middle, (Y/N) hooked her overnight bag over her shoulder before reaching for her phone. She had her eyes placed on her phone as she left his room, making a point to bypass the wall of family photos without a glance.

hey h I think Im gonna go home:( im not feeling super good and really want to shower at my place and sleep some before class tomorrow. ill bring your shirt back after I wash it and everything. sorry :(

Her hands shook as he pressed send before locking his front door behind her. Locking her phone, (Y/N) made her way to her car with a pit in her tummy. It didn't feel good to lie to Harry, especially when it was a lie that would keep her from spending time with him. She didn't even want to see the inevitable sweet text he would send back, most likely offering to drop off soup or come by for a cuddle if she needed someone to help take care of her. In the long run, though, she knew this time apart would be good for them.

That's why even when Harry texted her back with with a sad face and a promise that it was alright, pretty girl, she couldn't waver. Even when he sent her another message after he had assumed she'd fallen asleep while she was taking her time in the shower that he missed her and couldn't wait to see her later this week. He was here for her if she needed anything, he reminded her.

Locking her phone without responding that night was the hardest thing she had to do.

—————

Harry felt his heart ache when he stepped out of the shower, looping towel around his waist as he saw (Y/N) hadn't texted him back still. Poor thing really must not be feeling well if she conked out at seven, his little night owl.

He hadn't been too surprised when she messaged him earlier in the day to let him know she wasn't feeling well, but it still made his shoulders drop at the prospect of her not being there when he got home. She had been a bit off during lunch, lost in her head and reluctant to eat more than a few bites before she claimed she was full from breakfast still. He was worried about her when he saw that she hadn't even been enticed by the side of macaroni and cheese she ordered for herself, the diner being one of her favorite places to have it. If not for the fact she told him she wanted to get some sleep in so she could be well enough for class tomorrow, Harry would have insisted in going to her place after he got off work. But, he knew that if he stopped by, she would do what she always did and try to stay awake as long as possible with him.

If she wasn't well enough by Wednesday when they had plans to see one another, he wouldn't take no for an answer to bring her some soup or coddle her through her bug, like she had declined tonight instead for sleep.

Settling into bed, Harry was wrapped in (Y/N)'s scent that puffed through his comforter as he fluffed it around himself. When he closed his eyes, it was like she was still with him.

After setting his alarm early enough he had time to call (Y/N) and leave a good morning voicemail and make his cup of coffee before heading to work, Harry filled his head with all the love and affection he wished he could be giving to (Y/N) in that moment. Hopefully she would feel some of it and know he was thinking about her, and could help her feel somewhat better.

Harry hoped she was thinking about him, too.

—————

Though the threat of a day's worth of classes loomed over her head, (Y/N) woke on Wednesday morning feeling worlds better than she had even twenty-four hours prior. She had made the right choice in staying with herself for a couple of days, having all that time to spend with herself to get her head screwed on straight and talk herself down from the spiraling decline she had set herself up for.

Tuesday had been a hard day to get through, especially as she started the day with a mention of her faux-illness in Harry's morning voicemail. That guilt she felt about holding him back, not being the right person to make him happy only increased ten-fold when she tacked on the fact she had lied to get away from him for a couple of nights. But, since she had all that time to herself she was allowed to wallow for a few hours before being sucked into real life and having to exit her head.

The reality of it all was that it didn't matter what ran through Seline's head when she saw who her boss's girlfriend was. Same thing with Shelly; she had assumed Harry would be interested in someone like Prof Frances, but that wasn't true. Harry was interested in someone like (Y/N), and she loved him back just as much. That was all that mattered, and if anyone really had any issues, any quarrels about her age or whether or not she was an appropriate person for Harry to be in love with, didn't. She was happy with him, completely dedicated and willing to be in this relationship, and she knew he felt the same. That was all that mattered.

By the time she'd gone to sleep on Tuesday night, (Y/N) was still happy to have this time to herself (especially since she was doing all kinds of body skincare that entailed her hands to be wrapped in serum soaked gloves and feet to be in the same situation), she missed Harry. At least this time she didn't pretend to be asleep while he was texting her.

Wednesday morning was a piece of cake by then. The pit of anxiety that had weighed her down since Monday was finally gone, and (Y/N) couldn't have been more excited to see Harry that night.

She just had to get through class first.

By the time her final class of the day started—creative writing with Prof Daniels at two p.m every Wednesday and Friday—(Y/N) was excited. She actually really loved the current assignment for the class, and didn't feel even a tint of exhaustion at the idea of having plans after she was done for the day. If she made enough progress on her draft today, she might even be able to share what she had done with Harry and see what he thought.

After Mr. Daniels made his introduction for the day, reminding the class of the first draft's due date and what themes are meant to be focused on for this assignment, he retired to his office for the hour leaving everyone to independently work and make progress on their drafts. A few of her classmates left once their professor went to his office, getting the attendance grade before going off to do whatever else they wanted for the day, but (Y/N) stayed planted in her spot, headphones in her ears.

Wanting to start off on the right foot when this project was announced, (Y/N) had outlined the general flow of the piece with each of the required themes weaved throughout, making this entire process much easier than she had in the past. (Y/N) had found her groove moments later, typing away at her laptop with quick glances back and forth at her handwritten outline. Much of the class had emptied out for the hour when she bothered to take a look around, but she didn't mind being one of the few that took advantage of this allotted time to finish her work. Besides, she didn't want to go home and forget what time it was while she was working only to have Harry come in to see her still in her sweats when she had something a little bit prettier planned to greet him with.

When (Y/N) had just made it through the first section of her piece, out of the corner of her eye she noticed someone settling in the seat beside her. A quick glance showed it was one of the girls in her class that she often peer reviewed with, Isla. She was someone (Y/N) had met through Iris but wasn't all that close to either of them, which (Y/N) was thankful for after everything that had happened; she was nice during peer reviews and gave honest feedback, and (Y/N) would have hated having to find someone else in the class if she insisted on being loyal to Iris.

Isla's body was positioned in her seat to face (Y/N), knees pointed toward her with a smile on her face. Her laptop was still stationed at the typical desk she occupied, so (Y/N) figured she wasn't switching her seating situation. Plucking a headphone out of her ear, (Y/N) paused her music.

"Hey," she greeted Isla, voice quiet despite the fact almost all of her remaining classmates had their own headphones on and music playing, "What's up?"

"Hey, (Y/N)," Isla smiled at her, quickly glancing at her phone that was lit up in her lap, "I'm so sorry to bother you, I know we're supposed to be working on our stories."

"Its okay," (Y/N) brushed off, giving her attention to Isla despite the blinking cursor on her screen that urged her to keep going, "Did you need help with something?"

Isla shook her head, red curls fluttering around her face, "Oh no, this is actually super weird. But, my roommate told me something that didn't sound right, but I wanted to ask you if it was true."

A furrow pinched at (Y/N)'s brow as she listened. Couldn't Isla have just googled this?

"Okay," she started, "I don't know if I'll know the answer, but I'll try."

Releasing her bottom lip that had gone trapped between her teeth, Isla grabbed for her phone in her lap one more time. "You know Shelly Blake, right?"

At the mention of Shelly's name, (Y/N) felt all the color drain from her face. Nonetheless, she gave Isla a small nod, rolling her lips between her teeth. She knew where this was going.

"Well, my roommate had brunch with her this morning, I guess, and Shelly said that you're dating her boss," Isla babbled, not being nearly as quiet as (Y/N) wanted, "But I told Kerry—my roommate—that I don't think that's true because I think Shelly's boss is, like, thirty or something. But, Shelly says that you, like, went to her office and went and saw him and all, but, I don't know, I don't believe it. I know you have a boyfriend and all, but it's not him, right?"

(Y/N)'s mouth ran dry as soon as she heard the mention of Harry's age. Of course, that would be the point of contention as to why there was no way (Y/N) could be dating Shelly's boss.

She didn't know what to say, but (Y/N)'s silence seemed to be enough for Isla to realize her own answer. (Y/N) worried her fingers in her lap as she tried to come up with something to say, the nourishing mask she had done on her hands the night before making a much harder task of picking at her cuticles.

"Um, actually," (Y/N) started, feigning a smile on her features so she didn't make this interaction any more awkward by showing that she was hurt, "it is true. I've been dating him for a little while now, and I just went and visited him for lunch on Monday."

"Oh," Isla sounded, glancing back at her phone before finally locking the device and turning it facedown, "I didn't know that. I guess I always figured the guy you post on instagram was from that tech university that's an hour away or something since I'd never seen him around."

"Oh, no," (Y/N) shook her head, pleasant face still in place, "He's an executive at Shelly's company in the city. We just don't really hang out on campus and all, obviously."

"And he's really, like, thirty?"

That pit (Y/N) had been afraid of returning began to open up in her tummy again, working like a blackhole as it tried to suck her in from the inside out. "Yeah—um, he's thirty-five, actually. His birthday was a couple of months ago."

"Wow," Isla said simply, brows raising over her eyes, "I had no idea. I didn't even know you liked older guys. Or, that there were any actually cute ones around here that were willing to date college girls."

Just as (Y/N) was about to explain that while his age was something she found attractive, she wasn't necessarily into 'older guys', she was into Harry, Isla cut her off with a bubbling gasp that fed into a set of laughter.

"You didn't meet him on one of those sugar daddy sites, did you? Because I've always wondered if they worked, and if you did meet him on one you need to tell me which one because I need to try."

While she knew Isla was only trying to play around, (Y/N) didn't know what to say and knew she wasn't hiding it that well. She was sure Shelly or Seline had the same phrase—sugar daddy—running through their head when they realized her relationship to Harry, but neither of them had said it out loud. There was nothing inherently wrong with those kinds of arrangements, especially when everyone was happy and willing, but to have her love for Harry be reduced down to a relationship based on favors and cash hurt (Y/N) more than she realized it could. She would never use Harry for his money or take advantage of the fact he had the means to take care of her in places where she couldn't. That was never something she ever considered when she met him, or that ever crossed her mind still.

"Oh my god, (Y/N), I'm so sorry, that's not how I meant it at all," Isla rushed out as soon as she realized her mistake, her hands out between them as if she could wipe her comment out of thin air, "I just realized how that sounded, but I promise I didn't mean it like that, at all! I know he's your actual boyfriend, and its not like that at all. I was only trying to joke around, I'm sorry!"

"It's okay, it's okay," (Y/N) said, trying to soothe the situation as best she could and hopefully get Isla's volume down before someone overheard her, "I know you were only joking, I just wasn't expecting it, that's all."

"Are you sure?" Isla edged, features molded into an apology.

"Totally," (Y/N) pressed, "Don't worry about it, okay? It's not a big deal." The blackhole in (Y/N)'s stomach would love to beg to differ, though.

"Okay," Isla accepted with a reluctant smile, "Its cool if I tell my roommate that its true then? About you and Shelly's boss and all?"

In this moment, (Y/N) would rather die than have more people know about her relationship status and the opinions that went along with it, but there was no use in stopping it now. "Yeah, of course. Just let her know we didn't meet on a sugar daddy site, so I have no idea how legit those are."

Her comment drew a laugh out of Isla's lips, finally easing her from her faux-pas. "Thanks, (Y/N). Sorry to bother you, again."

As Isla stood from her borrowed seat, (Y/N) shook her head. "Its totally fine."

After sharing quiet goodbyes, (Y/N) was left alone again with Isla settling in her typical post towards the front of the room. Pushing her headphones back into her ears, (Y/N) wanted to resume where she was at in her assignment, but couldn't find the spot in her brain to concentrate. Her outline no longer seemed useful with all of her previous work feeling like it was for naught now that she couldn't concentrate for the life of her.

She knew her resolve was fragile when she made her peace with those comments she heard on Monday, but she didn't know it was this fragile.

Not only had she been branded a teenage stalker, but she was now a sugar baby using Harry for his money—two things that had been shared with her in less than a week. The thread holding her sanity together was moments away from snapping if someone shared one more thought about her relationship.

With another fifteen minutes left of class, (Y/N) just decided pack it up for the day. There was no way she was going to get any work done at this point, too much else on her mind to even begin to focus on her story. With her headphones in and bag slung over her shoulder, (Y/N) made her way out of the lecture hall with a wave over her shoulder to Isla.

The cool air outside did some good for her as she tried to clear her mind, feeling a little less trapped in the pit in her stomach with so much space around her in the quad. Now that she was alone, (Y/N) felt the urge for her eyes to fill with tears she'd been holding back for days.

She was just so frustrated, and, god, her feelings were hurt. Why she had to field questions about the validity of her relationship at all was something she didn't understand. Then to add that the three opinions she was given this week weren't the most kind of comments that have ever been shared with her, she wanted to scream with the frustration in her bones.

Yes, Harry was older than her, and that was where she needed the conversation to stop. She didn't need to hear about how she had been mistaken for being someone's daughter that held misplaced affection for Harry. She didn't need to explain that no, they didn't meet on a dating site with the express purpose of setting up arrangements between wealthy men and girls like herself. Everything extra she had to field and explain was pushing her into that dark, weeded corner in the back of her mind.

Making it to her car, (Y/N) didn't have the strength to hold back her tears anymore. The tint of her windows shielded the glimmer of her tears as they fell down her cheeks, tracking through the light layer of makeup she applied that morning. Her lungs squeezed as she tried to breath through her sobs the same way her fists did at her sides.

They'd only been together for a little over half a year, and just barely scratched the surface of the kind of comments (Y/N) feared they would get until she was old enough that people didn't notice the gap between them. How much longer could she do this, if she was now sobbing in her car after only a couple of days worth of off-handed comments.

Without much forethought, (Y/N) reached for her phone and pulled up Harry's contact.

i think that bug i had is coming back :( I felt a little better yesterday but today's been really hard so I don't think it would be a good idea to hang out tonight h im sorry:( I don't want to get you sick:(

She locked her phone before she could see if he was crafting his own reply back or even read the message. She needed to be alone tonight, and that was all (Y/N) let herself focus on as she drove back home.

—————

Coming out of his meeting, Harry couldn't help but let his shoulders fall as he looked at (Y/N)'s text. She still wasn't feeling well? From what she told him yesterday, she was just about good as new.

There was no way he was going to let her get away with a third day in a row of not feeling well without stopping by or doing his part to help her feel better.

Typing out a quick reply, Harry told her he was sad to hear she still wasn't feeling good and that he missed her immensely as he mapped out his stop to the shops before rerouting himself to her apartment after he was done with work for the day. She didn't deserve to care for herself when he was perfectly capable of at least making her some dinner and helping her get to bed.

And, call him selfish, but Harry couldn't wait to see her again.

—————

Armed with a plastic bag containing the ingredients to his favorite chicken soup his mom used to make him when he was young, and a bouquet of flowers he hoped would brighten her day, Harry knocked on the door to (Y/N)'s apartment. That familiar shuffling sound on the other side of the door sounded through the wood as he awaited her, a grin poking at he edges of his lips at the idea of finally seeing her again for the first time since Monday.

By the time she opened the door with a creak, Harry's smile dropped as soon as it formed.

(Y/N)'s eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, lashes bundled together in the fresh wetness that had seeped form her tear ducts. She halfway hid behind the door, peering at him with a quiver in her lip as she avoided his gaze.

"What are you doing here?"

While that wasn't exactly the greeting he had been hoping for when he decided to come over, he figured he shouldn't have set his standards up so high knowing that she was feeling sick. He had just hoped she hadn't felt so ill she had to cry over it.

"Oh, sweetheart," Harry crooned as he gazed at her, taking a careful step forward with the toe of his boot edging over the threshold, "How are y'feeling?"

"I'm alright," she sniffled, running a heavy hand through her hair, "I thought I told you I couldn't see you tonight."

"I know, I jus' couldn't live with myself if I didn't come help you even a little. I brought some soup for you." The flowers he had bundled against his chest tickled underneath his chin as he readied to take over her kitchen for the night.

When she hesitated and dropped her gaze to the floor, Harry felt his gut drop.

"I think you should go home, Harry."

The nasal tone of her voice accompanied the wobble of her lower lip as she spoke, her eyes flooding with a new set of tears.

Reaching out with a reluctant hand, Harry reached for her as he tried not to step through the door no matter how badly he wanted to hold her. He didn't want to overwhelm her.

"Sweetheart, I don't mind that you're sick, 's alright. Jus' let me take care of you, you're worrying me," he pressed. Just as his hand grazed her cheek, (Y/N) took a step back from him, widening the gap between them that was beginning to feel like a trench.

The way (Y/N) looked up at him afterwards told him she was just as surprised that she had distanced herself. Harry didn't know what was worse: (Y/N) deliberately taking a step away from him when he tried to touch her, or her moving out of the way on instinct, her subconscious keeping him from touching her?

"Harry, I-I think I need to be alone tonight."

"(Y/N), really. I don't mind taking care of you, you kno—"

"I'm not sick, Harry! I just... Let me be alone."

Harry stood stock-still, shocked by her outburst. The way she curled up on herself afterwards, recoiling form her own words, could have broken his heart if it wasn't already on its way to being shattered from her second request for him to leave.

"You're—I thought," Harry floundered, his hand with his bouquet of flowers dropping limply to his side, "Y'told me y'haven't been feeling well since Monday."

Another heavy hand moved its way through her hair, a tug being administered to her scalp. "I know I did, I'm sorry. I just didn't know if I could talk to you af—"

(Y/N) was cut off by the sound of her neighbour's door opening, a blonde haired girl walking down the hall with an awkward smile stretched on her face as she realized what she had just walked into. (Y/N) reciprocated as much as she could until her neighbour disappeared down the length of the staircase, that was when her smile dropped again.

He knew she was feeling embarrassed as she stepped off to the side, widening the berth of the door for Harry to fit through. She gestured for him to step inside, though it lacked every bit of enthusiasm that he had grown accustomed to when he visited her. With the plastic bag crinkling at his side and the bouquet of flowers rustling in the wax paper they were wrapped in, Harry stepped through the threshold of her door, her apartment almost completely silent.

Standing by awkwardly, Harry waited as she locked her door after him and padded her way to her living room where he stood. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Harry glanced down at the flowers in his grasp.

"These are for you, by the way," he murmured, offering her the bundle of white magnolias.

With her gaze attached to the flowers, Harry watched as (Y/N)'s eyes welled up with a new batch of tears. She peeped out a thank you as she pulled the arrangement from his hand, padding off to her kitchen while Harry stood in silence.

He didn't know what she was about to tell when her neighbor interrupted them, but he almost didn't want to know. Knowing that she hadn't been ill and was using that as an excuse to avoid him was enough to have him on edge already, he didn't want to know why she had been avoiding him in the first place.

Relenting himself to sit on her couch, sinking into the stuffed cushion, Harry sat with his chin in his hand and elbows digging into his thighs. It felt like hours as he listened to her pull a vase from her cabinet, followed by the running water for the flowers. Normally he would be there helping her, teasing her as she reached for the vase and helping her arrange the blossoms in the water so every stem could take a dip. Not today, Harry guessed, he wasn't needed.

When she finally joined him, (Y/N) took a spot on the opposing chair set up in her living room, the stiff decorative pillow taking up most of the cushion as she sat on the edge. Shifting his chin in his hand, he gazed at her through his lashes as he waited for her to finish what she started.

As the silence stretched on, Harry felt more and more cracks appear in his heart. He couldn't take much more of this, especially when she couldn't even muster the courage to look at him. What did she need to tell him that was so bad she couldn't even look at him for a second?

Dropping his face into his hands, Harry slid his fingers through his curls, a startling pinch being delivered to the roots as he tightened his grip. "Why didn't y'want to talk to me, (Y/N)? What happened?" he grumbled out.

A sniffle sounded from the chair, but he didn't have the heart to look up. It would only make it harder to hear what she had to say if he had to watch her cry, too.

"Harry, I—" (Y/N) cut herself off, her thought dropping from her tongue before she had even bothered to finish putting it together, "I don't know how to tell you."

Something bubbled in his chest as he heard her hesitance to speak to hm still, even as he sat right in front of her. Frustration welled up in his system. How was he supposed to make anything better, fix his mistakes that led to her avoiding him, or make her at least stop crying when she wouldn't even tell him what was wrong?! How was he going to have a chance to save them from whatever had dug itself in her mind when he had no idea what he was up against?!

Forcing a deep breath into his lungs, Harry shuttered his eyes as he kept his head down in his hands. The heels of his palms dug into his eyes as he waited, giving her one last chance to say anything before he would take over.

With the sound of his blood rushing through his ears, Harry unclenched his jaw, "Start with why y'wanted to avoid me so bad y'pretended to be sick for almost three days."

"It's not that simple, H—"

"Then, what happened?! What did I do wrong?! You jus' keep sitting there, crying, but y'wont tell me what I did wrong or how to fix it!"

By that point, Harry was grateful for the fact his eyes were closed as he pulled his head from his hands, chancing a look up at (Y/N) though that view was quickly distorted by his own round of tears that flooded his vision. Sniffing his nose, Harry scrubbed his hands over his eyes to rid himself of the tears, still too frustrated to worry about them when (Y/N) still hadn't explained.

With her fingers a nervous bundle in her lap, (Y/N) broke with her bottle lip wobbling and eyes closed as if to stave off another round of crying. "It was when I vi-visted you at work."

Nodding his head, Harry took in deep breaths, already regretting the way he snapped at her. "Okay, thank you," he started, softening his tone as he gave her to the full of his attention, "What happened?"

(Y/N) shook her head as she ran her hand through her hair, rolling her eyes at herself. "It wasn't even that big of a deal, so I don't know why it's bothering me so bad," she rushed out, voice wobbling, "It was just... Seline? That receptionist on the lobby floor?"

Harry nodded his head, beginning to worry at the mention of Seline. She could be a bit cold, that much everyone at the office knew.

"She—I don't know, it was just weird when I talked to her. I know I wasn't on your permission list or whatever since I was surprising you, but she said something after she figured out that I was there to see you that's just stuck with me." (Y/N) swallowed, her eyes still facing the ceiling as Harry waited on her, his fingers prattling with his rings. "She... She said she didn't want to let me up at first because she wasn't sure if I was a daughter of one of your clients, coming to visit Mr. Styles after getting too attached over a busy dinner."

Rolling his lips between his teeth, Harry nodded his head. Sounded like Seline, that was for sure.

(Y/N) finally chanced a glance down at him then, feeling somewhat more calm now that she was getting everything out that had been rattling her brain for almost three days now.

"Then," she continued, surprising Harry as he had just began devising some kind of plan to keep Seline from being so rude to people in the waiting area, "I didn't realize that the Shelly on your floor was someone I go to school with." Harry sighed as he figured out where this was going. "She was really surprised to see me," (Y/N) muttered, fluttering her lashes as she tried to keep her waterworks at bay, "As soon as I told her I was your girlfriend, she got kind of weird and told me she didn't expect your girlfriend to be someone like me. When I asked her what she meant, she brought up this professor that used to work at my school, that everyone thought was really pretty, and was around your age, obviously. It wasn't that bad but after what I heard from Seline, it didn't really help.

"And then, today, I guess Shelly got brunch with the roommate of a girl in my creative writing class, and they apparently talked about how I'm dating Shelly's thirty year old boss, and the girl in my class asked if I met you on a sugar daddy website."

Now, that stung. The other two comments she shared with him hurt him for the fact it was hurting (Y/N), cheap shots taken at their relationship that questioned the depth of it just because of the gap between their ages. But this one—the implication that their relationship was nothing more than Harry giving out money and gifts in exchange for (Y/N)'s company—took a stab at his heart.

Harry knew what a relationship would look like to others the second he took a liking to (Y/N). That was why, other than wanting to maintain (Y/N)'s happiness and comfort in her friend group, he didn't pursue her. He knew that someone of his age and position financially wasn't supposed to mix with a college-age girl that had piled on student loans and worked as much as she could on the side to help pay for school. He knew that those two things could invite people to make comments or pull faces, he knew that. But, maybe they had just been lucky with how well it was going beforehand; their friends didn't mind, never once making a comment or raising a brow at the idea of the two of them together, along with his family being so supportive when he divulged details about his (Y/N), and even strangers on the street didn't give them a second glance. They had been successfully missing any of these comments up until this point, and, of course, it was (Y/N) who had to endure them.

If he hadn't already felt like shit for yelling at her earlier, now he felt like he should go sit on the curb with the rest of the trashbins.

Rising from his position on the couch, Harry moved to crouch in front of (Y/N). Instinctively, she spread her legs wide enough to allow him access to sit between. Settling his hands on either of her thighs, he waited on her to return to her living room with him, leaving the dark space of her head behind.

"(Y/N)?" he murmured, squeezing the full of her flesh in his palms, "Look at me, love."

Running her fingertips under her eyes, (Y/N) cleared her tears away before she looked down at him, her bottom lip trembling though she tried to hold it all back. "I'm sorry, Harry."

"Hey, hey," he crooned, shaking his head, "Don't need to be sorry, okay? Don't need to apologize for what they said."

"B-But, I shouldn't have stopping seeing you or talking to you over it," she countered, dropping her gaze to her lap though she didn't dare lace her fingers between his like she usually did, "I just didn't know what to do. I started to feel guilty."

"What do you mean, pretty girl? Guilty over what?"

"Li-Like I was holding you back or something," she whispered, the volume of her voice being the only thing that kept it from breaking, "I-I don't want you to mi-miss out on someone who might fit you better. Or, at least be able to handle something like this without avoiding you."

Harry shook his head as he stood to his feet, reaching for her hands that were bundled into a fumbling mess as she kept them from grabbing for his. Wrapping his fingers around her wrists, he pulled her to stand up before he replaced himself in her seat. The decorative pillow was crushed under his weight, becoming an uncomfortable lump under his bottom but Harry didn't pay it any mind as he pulled (Y/N) to sit in his lap. Her legs hung over the side of his own, her shoulder pressed against his chest as he looped his arms around her, interlocking his fingers as they rested on her hip.

"You've got to listen to me, (Y/N), 'kay?" Harry waited until he got a small nod from her, eyes meeting his through the frame of her lashes. "There's no one out there that could fit me better than y'do, do you hear me? I had some extra time before I ever even met you to meet this better fit, and I've never found anyone that comes close to the way y'make me feel. There's no one out there that would love me better than y'can, and I know that. Don't feel guilty over something that doesn't exist."

"But—"

"No, I told y'to listen to me, didn't I?" Harry stopped her, unwilling to hear her make up fake scenarios about someone who didn't exist. "It hurts knowing that these comments made y'want to avoid me, but I understand why because I understand you. Y'weren't trying to hurt me, y'jus' wanted some time to yourself to be a little mopey and figure it all out before y'saw me again—I understand. Right?"

"Yeah," she peeped, her cheeks heating and eyes watering as she listened to him, "I didn't mean to hurt you, Harry."

"I know, I know," he murmured, dropping a careful kiss to her cheek, his heart eased when she didn't flinch away. "And 'm not upset now that I know, okay? Don't need to be sad over that. And, 'm sorry I yelled at you; I got scared when y'wouldn't say anything, but I shouldn't have done that. We're a team and teams don't work when one of us is being mean." The small nod and I forgive you, that (Y/N) gave him allowed for a short smile to carve into Harry's lips before he grew serious. "I jus' need y'to be honest with me for a second, then."

A short nod came from (Y/N) as her hands unraveled, finally relieving Harry as she curled her fingers around his forearm to keep him close.

Swallowing, Harry tried to figure the best way to phrase any of his questions. "Do you...Did any of what these people said make y'doubt being with me?"

Her answer was immediate in the shake of her head, stray strands of hair fluttering around her face, "No, no, no. I love you so much, Harry, I just want you to be happy. I don't want you to be bothered one day when you realize I'm not at the same spot as you; I don't know all of those references you make and I can't take you out for fancy dinners the way you do for me. At least not until I'm out of school."

"I don't—... None of that matters to me, okay?" he reassured her with a squeeze of his arms around her, "I don't care about any of that. I like getting to see y'grow and learn and I never expect you to pay me back for any of the things I do for you. I don't understand all of your little jokes, either, sweetheart, and I know that doesn't bother you, because you're like me in that way. We love being with each other, and that's what makes us happiest, so that's all that matters. Right?"

A watery smile worked its way on her lips as she nodded her head. "Right."

"See, sweetheart," he cooed, "As long as we're on the same page about that, we can get through anything, can't we?" He was rewarded with another short nod and quiet smile. "'M sorry that y'were the one that had to hear those things, and I want y'to know that y'never have to hide that from me again. Tell me and I'll help talk y'down, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good girl," he praised her, even when she couldn't speak louder than a whisper and manage a smile bigger than the one on her lips if she didn't want her features to crumble. "'M always gonna help you, jus' need y'to tell me how. Can y'promise me that?"

"I promise, Harry."

"M'best girl, aren't you?" he crooned to her, dropping his face to nudge his nose again her own. Her smile grew as she took in his words, just as he wanted. "Can I kiss you, sweetheart?" he asked her the full of his lips brushing against her own.

The quiet nod he gave him was all he needed before he pressing his lips in affectionate pecks all over her face, starting with her plush lips. With each dot of his lips over her skin, more and more bubbling giggles fell from (Y/N)'s smiling mouth, his grip on her tightening as she wiggled in his lap. The bridge of her nose was smothered in his love before he tapped over her cheeks with his lips. Her forehead wasn't spared in the carnage either, getting as many kisses as he could fit in the space until he had to drop his kisses to her eyelids. The salt of her tears was bittersweet as he tasted them on his kiss; sweet knowing that he was able to quell them, but the bitter taste lingered knowing that they started in sadness. By the time he made his way back down to her lips, she was smiling too big to pucker her lips against his.

"Kiss me back, pretty girl," he murmured, his own amusement seeping into his tone no matter how hard he tried to keep it held back.

That was all the encouragement she needed before (Y/N) was cradling his face in her hands and trying her best to kiss him through her smile. It was clumsy and off-center, not perfect by far, but it was easily one of Harry's favorite kisses he's ever shared with her. This was where all of her sweetness concentrated itself: in her kiss as she nudged her nose against his and breathed out giggles every time Harry pulled away.

"I love you," she spoke against his kiss.

"I love you too, sweetheart, always," he murmured, drawing away just enough to match his gaze to hers. "Me and you, remember?"

The mantra he had repeated to her more than once brought a bright smile to (Y/N)'s face.

"Me and you, H."

—————

angst is always so hard for me to write so I hope everyone enjoys this! thank u sm for reading and sorry for any mistakes! if you have any ideas or requests of your own please send them in:)

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badgrrlscoven · 1 year

Note

Hey hey! May I request headcanons for luz and hunter (separately) with a S/o that's to innocent for their own good but at the same time always manages to get themself into some sort of trouble. (gender neutral pronouns please)

Luz and Hunter with innocent s/o headcanons

a/n: oh i had so much fun doing this! i hope you like this as much as i do, if you want anything changed at all you can message me :)

luz:

- she honestly thinks you’re just super adorable

- this simple thing called common sense goes over your head and to her, you’re just a witch version of king

- def gives you the “who’s a whiddle guy” look when looking at you for too long

- she will tease you relentlessly for your innocence, and again, your dumbass won’t always understand or you’ll pout

- now for the danger part 😭

- Luz believes you can handle yourself just fine but the poor girl also has a hero complex

- she has made to help you with any tussle you somehow manage to get yourself into

- a lot of ‘oh nos’ leave her mouth when you give her the smile that tells her you most likely did something…again

- Luz will most definitely help you from any problem and support you always, but i know for a fact this girl will tease you about it later til’ your whole body is red with embarrassment

- the trouble you always get yourself into is always stupid or because you did/said something stupid

- you’re her ‘innocent whittle bwean’ as she likes to call you in that voice

- you: you know, warden wrath’s face looks like a bunch of mashed snake butts

- Warden Wrath in the distance just staring you down before charging

- Luz, face sweating and dragging you away: ThEy DIdn’T mEAn iT!!!

- conformatorium escapee buddies together

- you both definitely have wanted posters for different things and honestly, it makes Eda very proud

- You have no idea why she’s proud though

hunter:

- in the beginning he’d probably point out how innocent you are, maybe accidentally making you feel stupid but this would never be his intention with you this boy absolutely adores

- (Probably cause he hasn’t really had a chance to experience love just yet and he may be mildly obsessed with you)

- only titan knows how this boy doesn’t lose his mind sometimes

- he completely adored you but you worry him with how innocent you can be

- honestly, you both probably have the whole ‘dumb x smart’ dynamic going on (you’re not stupid, just super naive but super cute so dw)

- this boy will be explaining something and if a question pops in your head, you ask it. sometimes he’ll pretend to me irked, but he loves sharing any information he knows

- SO MUCH FLUFFFFFFF

- he knows he’s uptight sometimes but he tries his best with you to grow and be lenient with your innocence

- it’s honestly a surprise when you two start officially going out because he is a very big rules and authority person abut because of the trouble you get into it’s sort of out of the norm for him

- you’re his little way of rebelling against belos even if you may not realize it :)

- now, after the whole belos ordeal and you’re all in the human realm hunter would be different around you a bit

- More laid back and chill

- he’s such a smartass about your innocence, cracking jokes about your questions and acting a bit of a know it all

- He’d be happy to answer questions you have without problems

- his ass would trick you and answer the questions wrong and would just watch the chaos that would ensue from this

- flustered.

- that is the only word to describe this boy and how your innocence affects him

#golden guard x reader #the owl house x reader #toh x reader #the owl lady #toh golden guard #hunter the owl house #hunter toh #incorrect toh quotes #toh belos #toh the collector #Toh Luz x reader #toh luz #toh headcanon #headcanons #toh headcanons #scenarios #yandere toh

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storiesforallfandoms · 1 year

Text

cleaning ~ dean winchester;supernatural

word count: 2411

request?: yes!

“can you do dean winchester fluff like major fluff”

description: in which dean goes to her after a rough hunt so you she clean his wounds, and he reveals how much he dislikes hunting now

pairing: dean winchester x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of physical harm

masterlist (one, two, three)

He showed up at my door, bloody and bruised and looking like he was on the verge of passing out. Most people would’ve slammed the door shut and called the police immediately, but then again, most people don’t know what I know abut Dean Winchester.

I extended an arm to let him give me most of his body weight. I struggled slightly, but I wouldn’t let him know. I guided him into my kitchen and sat him down in one of the chairs. It wasn’t the first time Dean had come over for me to clean his wounds, so I knew exactly what to do the minute he walked through my door. I filled a bowl with warm water, grabbed a number of cloths that I didn’t mind whether or not they became stained with blood, and grabbed a bottle of peroxide from under my bathroom sink.

I also poured up two glasses for Dean, one with water and one with scotch. I knew he needed to hydrate himself, but I also knew water was not the drink he wanted right now.

“What was it this time?” I asked as I sat down across from him. I dipped one of the cloths in the warm water and began to lightly dab it against his face.

Dean winced the moment the cloth touched his face. “Poltergeist. It was a strong son of a bitch this time. The usual salting was barely enough to keep us safe while we tried to burn its remains.”

“Is that how you got these marks?”

He nodded. “It tossed me around like a rag doll a few times.”

I winced this time at his description. “Do you need actual medical attention? I can’t do anything about broken ribs or fractured bones.”

Dean shook his head. “I’m fine. I just need rest.”

I finished cleaning the dried blood from his face and moved to use the peroxide to properly clean his wounds. He hissed the moment the alcoholic cleaner touched one of the wounds.

“Stop being a baby,” I teased. “We can’t let these get infected.”

“Doesn’t make it sting any less.”

I chuckled and shook my head at him. He acted so big and tough all the time, but I knew he was just a big baby. Not that I was going to say that to his face.

As predicted, Dean reached for the scotch instead of the water and downed it in one gulp. He placed the glass back on the table, not even glancing at the water I had given him.

“You should drink some water, too,” I said.

“Yes mom.”

He let out a shout of pain as I suddenly pressed the alcohol soaked cotton ball roughly against his wound. I smirked in pride.

This is how mine and Dean’s friendship started. He was hunting with my dad and, after a bad run in with the spirit, dad had brought Dean back to our house, bloody and on the verge of succumbing to his injuries. I worked fast to clean the wounds and stop the bleeding. He had been unconscious for nearly 24 hours, and I sat by his side the entire time. I think part of the reason why I did was because I felt responsible for Dean’s survival since I had been the one to care for his wounds, but the other part of me knew there was a deeper reason for it.

When he woke up, he thanked me for saving him, and that started our friendship. I wasn’t a hunter. I hated the business, in fact. My dad never wanted me to follow in his footsteps and I happily obliged. But that didn’t stop Dean from coming to me when he was in town on a hunt and he needed something; a place to stay, help finding information, and especially getting his wounds cleaned and bandaged up.

At some point throughout the many years of knowing one another, our friendship blossomed into something more.

When I finished cleaning and bandaging his face wounds, I got up to dump the red tinted water from the bowl into the sink, and to throw the blood stained cloths into the laundry hamper. Dean stayed sat at my table, his eyes on the empty glass in front of him. I could tell he wasn’t actually focusing on it. He had a glazed over look in his eyes that told me he was deep in thought.

“Does Sam know you’re here?” I asked. Dean nodded. “Okay. Go shower.”

That snapped him out of his trance as he turned to look at me in confusion. “What?”

“Well you’re not getting in my bed after a hunt without cleaning yourself up first.”

“I...I didn’t intend - ”

“On staying? I don’t care. You’re staying now. Go shower and I’ll grab you a change of clothes.”

He looked at me with confusion still, but once he realized I was being serious he got up and made his way to the bathroom. As I heard the shower start up, I made my way to my room to grab a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and underwear for Dean. He had stayed over enough times that he had a bunch of clothes poked away in my closet, and I was sure his current wardrobe would join the collection.

I changed into pajamas as well and laid in bed to wait for Dean. I heard him turn the shower off, but there was a long pause before he came out of the bathroom. When he came out with just the towel wrapped around his waist, I couldn’t help but let my eyes linger over his body.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” he teased.

“I have, but pictures aren’t as good as the real thing.”

Dean chuckled and took the clothes I had left out for him. He changed, deliberately turning his back to me to tease me I was sure, before getting into bed and taking me into his arms. I settled against his chest, careful of any other bodily injuries I was sure he had but wasn’t telling me about. Feeling his warm body next to mine made me feel a wave of relaxation and comfort over my body. When Dean was off hunting I always worried about him, even if I knew Dean was a more than capable hunter. These brief moments we had, where we could pretend to be a normal couple, I cherished more than anything.

But I could still feel that there was something going on in Dean’s head. I could feel that he was still tense against me, but not in a pained way like if I was laying on a wound. I knew Dean well enough at this point to know when there was something troubling him.

I pulled out of his grasp, reluctantly, and sat up to face him. “Okay, what’s going through that pretty head of yours?”

He managed a half smile. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ve been very distant since you got here; looking off into the distant, taking long pauses when you think I’m not paying attention. Even now you’re laying here in my bed, a place that is safe where you can rest, but you feel just as tense as I’m sure you would be staying in one of those shitty motels during a hunt. Did something else happen tonight that you’re not telling me? Whatever it is, I won’t judge or anything. You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know I can,” Dean said with a sigh. “It’s not something that happened. It’s...I’m just tired.”

“Tired as in physically, or tired as in mentally?”

“Both.”

I sat with my back against the headboard and Dean sat up to mirror my position. We were sat side by side, the covers still pulled up over our legs. I reached out to take hold of Dean’s hand in mine and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this, (Y/N),” he said. “The hunting, I mean. I’ve been running after the supernatural almost my entire life. I haven’t had a minute of a normal life ever; not a minute of rest. I can’t live like that anymore.”

“So why don’t you get out?”

He gave me a look that told me he thought I was joking at first. When I didn’t mirror his look he said, “How?”

“How what?”

“How would I get out?”

I found his question so ridiculous that I couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Dean, it’s not rocket science. You can just stop.”

“No I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“There’s a number of reasons,” he said. “For one, what would Sam do? I just abandon him after being a hunting team for years and, what, he keeps going on his own until one of those monsters kills him? And two, how am I supposed to stop when I know what’s out there now? I know what could come for me at any time, or what could come after you or anyone that I love. How do I put all that aside and hope for that no one gets hurt?”

Part of me really pitied Dean. I was an only child to a couple that were both still together and still very much alive. My dad had been a hunter, but mom hadn’t. Dad did everything he could to not drag mom into that life, and then, when I was born, did everything he could to make sure neither one of us ended up a part of the hunter life. It’s not what dad had wanted for me, so he let me decide on my own which path to take in life.

But Dean wasn’t that lucky. He hadn’t been given a choice on what life he could live. The night his mom was killed, his dad had made the decision for him: Dean would be a hunter and he would protect his little brother no matter what. John Winchester had engraved that thought process so deeply into Dean’s brain that even now, decades after his dad had died, Dean still believed that hunting was the only life he could possibly have. And for that, I hated John Winchester with every fiber of my being.

“Sam is a grown man,” I said. “If you tell him you want to stop hunting, then it’s on him to decide whether or not he wants to continue on his own. You’re not kids anymore, you don’t have to watch over your brother all the time.”

Dean tensed next to me again. I knew I must’ve struck a nerve by saying that. Sam was the only blood family Dean had left. I more than understood why he wanted to protect him so badly.

“If he were to die alone on a hunt, I’d never forgive myself,” he told me.

“I know you wouldn’t, but I also know Sam enough to know that he’s tough. He’s not going down without a fight, if he even wants to still fight. Have you ever wondered if maybe Sam is just as tired of this as you are? He has lost so much because of this lifestyle, the both of you have. He might want the normal life and the ability to rest just as much as you do.”

Dean was silent. I waited to see if he had anything to say to that, but once I was sure he hadn’t I continued, “And it’s not up to you to eradicate all supernatural beings from the world just because one might hurt someone close to you. There’s hundreds of hunters out there, Dean, all over the world. If you decide to step away from hunting, it’s not going to result in the world being taken over the way you think it is. And if anything were to come after you after you’ve left the business, you know how to handle it. That knowledge isn’t going to suddenly go away because you’re not doing the job full time anymore.”

He didn’t say anything again, but I had nothing else to say either, so we both just sat in silence. Dean ran his thumb over my knuckles, deep in thought again.

“What if something happens to you?” he asked.

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” I responded.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that nothing has happened to me this far in my life when my dad has been a hunter since before I was even born, and then my boyfriend has been a hunter the entire time we’ve known one another. Stepping away from the business isn’t going to suddenly make supernatural beings come after me. And, again, if they do I’ll have you to protect me.”

When he looked over at me, I could still see the doubt in his eyes. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy to try and convince him. He would have to get to the conclusion himself that it was okay for him to take a step back from hunting, but it was a conclusion I really hoped he came to quickly, for his own sake.

I coaxed him to lay back down with me in hopes it would finally relax him. My words had likely fallen on deaf ears, and in the morning Dean would likely be off again for another hunt, leaving me wondering day in and day out when or if I would ever see him again. But, until that happened, I would cherish this moment with him. I would pretend it wasn’t a fleeting moment, like we could be a normal couple for once.

“I love you,” Dean mumbled into my hair. “I don’t think I could live with myself if anything ever happened to you.”

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” I assured him. “Not when I have you to protect me.”

I tilted my head back to meet his lips with my own. I settled against him and listened to his heartbeat as his breathing became steady. My eyes were heavy, but I refused to fall asleep until I knew Dean had. Once I felt his body loosen up beside me, I looked up again to see his eyes were closed and he had finally fallen into a deep sleep that I knew he desperately needed. I smiled to myself and kissed his cheek before finally drifting off to sleep myself.

#dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles imagine #jensen ackles x reader #supernatural #supernatural imagine #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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bokettochild · 3 months

Text

Day 8 - "Why Won't It Stop?"

Took me forever, but this one is one that I am VERY pleased with. Part two will follow in later days

Wordcount: 4,847

Rating: Teen

Summary: An effect of abusing a god's power is that the soul of the deity is now bound to Time's own, and sometimes it has more power than he'd wish. usually, he can tame it, but learning the fate of the worlds he's left behind have made him slip, and the deity is intent on purging their legacy.

Written by request of @sweetlemonad

“It’s not like heroes can die anyways.”

The uncomfortable silence that follows those words is not something Time is particularly keen on learning the source of. The boys have all been in a rather good mood for most of the day, and currently Wind and Legend are trying to see who can outlast the other by remaining balanced on the rail fence that abuts the pathway on their right. He thinks Wind dared Legend or maybe the vet just got bored and Wind decided to follow. Either way, the elder is currently strolling along with his arms behind his head while Wind walks, precariously balanced and failing a bit here and there..

Balancing at sea and balancing on land are apparently exceedingly different.

He’s not particularly sure who’d started the conversation, but he thinks it was Warriors. The man has been a bit more stressed than he’d like these last few days, and the worry that something bad will happen to them definitely sounds like something the captain would express in order to keep the rest on their guard. The sudden way Legend falters, perfect balance suddenly failing and sending him flailing, is more telling than the silence that follows Wind’s words, and he finds it only right to offer a steadying hand to the younger man to stop him eating dirt.

Sky’s eyes settling on the sailor, confused, are just as telling.

“Right?” Wind looks between the vet, whose caught his balance and looks at the youngest with pricked back ears, gnawing his lip, and the chosen one who won’t meet their eyes. “Wait,” the kid glances back and forth again, as though to be sure, “they haven’t, right?”

The vet’s hand slips out of his own, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “Wind, did you receive an education?”

“What’s that have to do with anything?” Hyrule asks, sounding a little miffed. They all know the boy’s lack of formal teaching is a bit of a sore spot considering the apparent circumstances of everyone else. Had he the right, Time would maybe let slip that the captain was entirely illiterate before his enlistment, but he’s not sure that exposing that would actually help anyone.

Their chosen hero and vet share a glance at the question though, some silent conversation slipping between them for a moment before Sky gives an encouraging look that seems to indicate Legend ought to be the one to handle this. It makes sense, he supposes, considering Legend is the one with purportedly the best education out of them, or at least the most up to date between himself and Sky.

“Alright,” the pink haired hero slips down to a seated position on the rail fence, and the rest of them take the cue to stop, themselves sitting or leaning against the railing as well, save the captain, who stands at something almost like parade rest as he listens. “So, I suppose it’s lost to time for most of you, but there was a hero- a couple actually, who fell to the enemy.”

“How?” Hyrule demands. “I thought our whole existence was based off some heavenly power calling us so evil was always stopped?”

Murmurs of agreement sound from the rest, but the vet shakes his head, although he’s also very clearly avoiding eye contact. “I wish it was that straight forwards. No, actually, there are two heroes, to my knowledge and as of my era, that are quite famous for dying in their efforts against evil.” Dark eyes lift to Sky. “One was the first hero, the one who fought beside Hylia herself.”

“Sky’s going to die?” Four breathes, utterly horrified.

The boys almost all turn to their skyloftian but are quickly assured by a sharp ‘no!’ from Legend and a soft “not me, guys” from the hero himself. “It was my predecessor,” Sky says once they’ve all stopped looking so horrified, “the one who crafted the Master Sword and sealed Demise away, ages before my time.”

“So you knew.” He finds himself asking, and his question is answered with a slow nod.

“I did.” He knew about fallen heroes. He knew that the only other hero to exist before him had died. Suddenly Sky seems all the more brave to the scar-faced leader; he couldn’t imagine going into his adventure knowing all the others who undertook it had died.

“The first hero,” Legend begins again, hesitantly, “is said to have sealed Demise away, but succumbed from his injuries shortly thereafter, leaving the heavens to call another hero after his passing: Sky.”

There are a few hums, and Twilight looks like he’s half a second from taking notes. No doubt, the rancher hasn't heard this bit of Hylian history before, and while his pup is certainly less interested in the history of the kingdom than he is in the workings of things and understanding the dark magics, the dear lad is, all the same, what Mido would call “a nerd”. He finds himself smiling at the thought, watching as his boy absorbs every bit of the knowledge the vet is sharing, and what little Sky uses to back him up.

“What about the second one?” Wild asks, staring at Legend oddly.

Abruptly, he finds himself realizing that the cub himself has also died at the hands of the enemy, and though revived through some magic he couldn’t explain, the fact that it happened at all means that he too belongs on Legend’s list. Would that mean that the vet follows after the champion in the course of things then? Good gracious, would that make Legend the same to Wild as Wild is to Twilight? As Twilight is to him?

The vet, unknowing of their leader’s thoughts, drops his gaze a bit, fiddling with the bracelet on his hand but eyes clearly on the mark of the triforce he still bears on his left hand, just as most of them do. “He was my predecessor.”

Deku Tree bless, is he right?

“A hero called from the forest and trained to the blade since childhood, only to fall when forced to face Ganon.” The vet’s face twists up in something between sorrow and frustration. “He was prepared the best anyone could try, but for nothing. Ganon ruled Hyrule for almost a decade before the rebellion that sent the fallen hero managed to amass enough power to strike again and seal him into the sacred realm.” There’s a pause where Legend takes a heavy breath that’s neither sigh nor resignation, but maybe just the slightest bit sorrow for their fallen brother, and the rest keep quiet for it too, as though in mourning for a hero they’ve never met. But that’s when the vet says it. “If not for the sages and Skeik, I’d never have gotten a chance to defeat the monster that killed my predecessor, but with the aid of the Hylian Knights, they managed to seal him away for nearly four-hundred years.”

Sheik.

He knows, from the war, from meeting Warriors and watching people of all eras amass, that Sheik isn’t especial to his own time. The captain’s own princess had taken on the disguise herself in order to take a more active role on the front lines, but even so, the name catches him off guard, as does the association with the sages, which he’s only ever heard Wind talk of before.

The sailor doesn’t miss the reference either, the sharp little whip that he is. “What were the sages called? Do you know?”

The vet blinks, staring and clearly confused, but rattles them off all the same. “Zelda, Impa, Nabooru, Saria, Ruto, Daruna, and Rauru?”

The sailor nods, but the ground feels like it’s being swept out from under Time’s feet as the words sink in and that sunshine bright gaze is turned to him. Wind already has some eager words on his lips before his face falls, horror written across it as the truth of the vet’s words sinks in fully. “Holy shit.”

By virtue of simply not wanting to be met with the captain’s ire, he keeps the loud cursing within his own head internal, rather than letting it escape and being fixed under The Look. Even so, he’s half a second from slipping and repeating the sailor’s words in far more colorful language.

“Time...” Wind’s eyes are growing somehow wider, as though they weren’t just a bit too big to begin with, “....oh crap.”

It’s Twilight that makes the connection first, he thinks. He knows his story is forgotten to the world he’d returned to, the one the rancher is a product of, but if there’s one thing his pup is, it’s clever. Picking up on the clues in the exchange as well as what Legend’s said up to now, he can see for himself as realization dawns in midnight blue eyes and Twilight’s face falls. “Sweet Ordonia.”

“What?” Legend asks, glancing about between them, just the same as the others, save Hyrule who looks like he’s rethinking some matter of his own, no doubt what little history has been passed to him now bears reviewing. That doesn’t matter to the rest of them however, because those who know are now gaping, those who don’t are demanding answers, and the captain, who’d met two of the sages for himself and heard their tales, is shaking his head with a sigh.

Time did not sign up for this. Learning that’s he’d split time is one thing, but knowing that somehow, in some way, he’d done so to the extent that not only are his fears about creating multiple timelines actually a reality, but apparently there’s one that spun so far off that not only had he failed, but he’d died at Ganon’s hand and left the burden of defeating the demon to someone else. Two timelines, each resulting in a child being called to do a man’s work, just the same as he had. How old was Legend? Was he the same age as both he and Wind had been? Older? Does he resent the man who left him behind as some people in the sailor’s time do? Like Wind, does he respect his predecessor? Despise him? Curse him? Praise him? His thoughts are spinning and despite not using it, his right eye throbs.

As though sensing his distress, the deity awakens.

It doesn’t happen often. Without the mask, it isn’t nearly as powerful as to accomplish what they can with the aid of the power of the thing. Since abusing its power as a youth though, their magics are enough interlocked, souls enough intertwined, that even removing the cursed thing does not fully displace the deity’s presence from his mind. It is a silent thing at most times, but much like the mask it is sourced from, it awakens when he is in greatest need or fear, and more than once he’s allowed the modicum of its power that now lies bound to his own soul to overtake him in order to escape one situation or another. Such power does not present itself now, but the rumbling voice and the accompanying pulsing pain is enough to shift his focus towards quieting both, attention slipping from his boys and inward to the deity.

Despite managing to gather himself and the boys, to start forwards again on the path, he does not manage to silence the deity. He does, however, manage to ignore it for the time being.

He can only ignore it for so long though.

Sitting on watch after the boys have all gone to sleep, the rumbling thunder of the deity becomes impossible to ignore in the stifling silence around him. The deity will not be silenced, and try as he might, he can’t block-out nor forget the words spoken within his own mind.

“Failure follows in your legacy.”

As though he doesn’t know. It’s been bothering him all day, and despite the rest who hadn't pieced it together asking, he couldn’t bring himself to look, to say anything it was hard enough just putting one foot in front of the other. Wind revealing the split in time had shaken him, but at least he’d known how such a timeline came to be. The vet comes from a world where he’d died. How many of the other boys come from a world, an era, split off from time by his actions? How many timelines did he create?

How many of them have such dark fates as that of Legend’s own?

“He is an heir to failure,” the deity growls, “a scion of death.”

Time shakes his head, voice soft so as to not wake his slumbering team-mates. “No. He’s a hero.”

“To a world that ought not be, that ought to have perished.”

No world ought to perish, especially not because of the actions of one person. Still as he watches the vet sleep, curled up tight around his sword, the voice of the deity continues to ring about in his head. Turning his eyes away to the others doesn’t help though. The deity is truly set off and harsh whispers and growls sound, wondering, just as he does, how many of their number are born of his mistakes, his actions, in a world separate from his own because of actions he hadn’t realized the truth depth of.

He’d turned back time so many times, in both his first and second adventures. Are there timelines born of each time? What of his time in Termina? How many timelines did he create there? How many had seen the moon fall and everyone perish?

Time groans, running a hand over his face, rubbing at the scars and markings left by the deity’s power. Warriors would be so disappointed if he started scratching again, and the scars on either side of his face have finally faded enough to not be as noticeable as when he was a child. There's no mask to tear off, even if the sensation of one lingers as the deity speaks. He doesn’t want to wake up to the captain’s worried stare in the morning at the sight of scars made fresh again. He doesn’t.

Still, he wishes the deity would stop talking.

It doesn’t though, because of course it doesn’t. It hisses in his dreams, whispering as he watches worlds fall and two little figures, he thinks are meant to be Wind and Legend running about, facing the monster he remembers, as well as dark, shapeless figures he doesn’t. They look so small, so young, and despite his heart crying one thing, the deity hisses another. Where he mourns their innocence, the demon screams for their end.

Come morning, he’s a wreck. He manages to go through the motions, washing up with the rest with water from a well on the roadside, shaving and running a hand through his hair enough that it’s not a total mess. The captain was always strict about hygiene and basic care of their appearances. They’re Hyrule’s finest, not to seen wandering around like vagabonds and scamps. Still, the motions feel hollow, like a puppet moving at the command of another, and it feels like a chore to get ready, to strap on his armor, to gird his sword, and to step out onto the path with the others.

Wind and Legend return to walking the fences, apparently determined to do so until the railings give way to open country again. Usually, he’d find that endearing, a proof that despite everything his boys have faced, there still remains a childlike whimsical side to them. Now though, it means that every time one slips or Wind fumbles and yelps, he can’t help but look up and the deity’s words start up all over again.

Failures.

Never intended to exist.

Ought never have come to be.

Proof of the cruelty of the goddesses.

It’s painful. They're good kids, bright young men and skillful, admirable, talented, smart, sharp, kind, and he hates that such dark thoughts invade his mind at the mere sight of them, at even the smallest sound of their voices. It's not their fault that they exist, nor their fault that their worlds are a product of his actions and his mistakes. They don’t deserve the deity’s ire for simply existing.

Yet the roaring of that horrible voice in his mind continues, pulsing through his head and aching at the eye that the demon controls.

He wishes it would stop. Why won’t it stop?

“Time, hey, Time!” He comes back to himself with a blink, head shaking slightly as he raises his good eye to find the captain staring at him. They’re still on the path, still just walking along, still with nothing and no one else in sight, although the rail fence is nowhere to be seen anymore and blessedly means that the two younger heroes are back on the path with the rest, back in their normal places behind him, out of sight and away from the ire of the deity.

“Yes?”

The captain’s face is creased with worry, lips pursed, and gaze guarded. “You blanked out.”

Not blacked out, not fainted, not lost consciousness. No, it’s something rather different, and based off the familiar expression of the other, the soldier is well aware of what it really was; a slip. When stress or pain or emotion are too much, it happens. It’s been less common since he’d put away the mask for the last time, but during the war it happened frequently from overuse of the thing, the deity exercising control in the absence of his own will to.

“I’m alright,” he tries to assure, careful not to look behind him, even though he can feel the worry from the rest, “just tired.”

“We can stop for a rest.”

The captain’s halfway towards turning towards the other, already drawing a breath to call a halt to the rest, but Time stops him with a hand to his arm and a shake of the head, eyes carefully closed to avoid the sight of bright blue or crimson. “Don’t. It won’t help.”

Sleeping isn’t the problem, it’s his mind running away with him in a thousand directions, he doesn’t want it too. Sitting still will only make it worse. Stil, the captain regards him with worry. “Tell me if you change your mind.”

He nods. He won’t, but if he did, he’d tell the other There’s no worry of that though because sitting still right now sounds like actual torture. Just sitting there, a prisoner to his thoughts, to the deity’s thoughts, to wonderings and fears he doesn’t wish to address now or ever; he wouldn’t wish such things on anyone.

Except maybe Ganon. Screw him and everything he’s done to them. He deserves to be tortured by guilt.

Warriors lets it go, but not without a final worried look, and every so often he can feel heavy blue eyes settling on him, reading him, watching for any tick or sign that e’s in need of a break. He appreciates it, and focusing on the captain’s worry is an escape, because the deity has nothing ill to say of the soldier, in fact, he thinks it might even respect the other man, not that it will ever admit to such a thing.

In some ways, it gets easier, but in others, it’s worse. Focusing on his pup, his cub, turns his attention away. He can laugh and tease and watch them tease each other. Having Warriors standing beside him, talking about this thing or that, about paths and courses of action, is almost soothing. Sky’s smile and warm laughter is a balm, and Four’s quiet presence an assurance.

The moment Legend or Wind come into view though, even if his focus isn’t on them, or even what they’re doing, the growl of the deity rises again, a splitting pain in his head.

They know too. Wind’s hurt expressions and confusion are clear, and while Legend doesn’t appear to care at first, after a few days of such treatment, the vet tries to pull him aside and demand what has him treating Wind like a plague. He's not even noticed that the treatment is extended to him, but they all know of the vet’s soft spot for the sailor. He won’t stand to see their leader, whom the kid respects and admires so much, treating the sight of the boy like it’s painful.

But it is. It’s a rush of thoughts and twitch of his hands. It’s the hiss of the deity demanding he purge his namesake of all the dark twists it’s taken due to his actions. It’s images of children fighting demons and worlds falling due to his own failures.

He can’t bring himself to apologize, because that would mean looking at them, speaking to them, and thus hearing the demon scream for their blood to right the wrongs they represent.

Legend gives up in anger. Wind closes off, quiet and pensive. He doesn’t miss the veteran’s hand on broad little shoulders, a silent comfort when he passes by. Doesn’t miss the soft questions whispered from younger to elder, or the harsh glares from violet eyes as begrudging tones reply that they have no answers. He hates it but can’t do anything about it. For their own sakes, ignoring them is kinder than risking letting himself slip and do far worse.

When next they face the shadow, it’s nearly a relief. Finally, he can pour the aggression of the deity into his motions, into the swing of his sword and the roaring of his magic. He can let the demon loose, just a little, just enough to destroy and wreak havoc on enemies that deserve his wrath, on creatures who’ve earned his ire and hatred.

It’s freeing.

There’s no need to hold back, and maybe, just maybe, he let’s himself slip into the background, lets the deity have just a little more power than he’d planned. It’s fine though, it’s fine because maybe this will exhaust the thing, grant it the blood it’s so thirsty for, quench that hunger enough to make it fall silent again.

Once the battle is over, and the deity silent, maybe now he can talk to Wind. Show the boy a smile and apologize, tell him he’s had a migraine that’s impacted by the sailor’s magic or some such thing. Legend or Hyrule might call bull on that, but maybe he’s willing to abuse the fact that Wind’s hero worship of him means he’s more likely to be believed. He’s not telling the kid the truth though, not burdening him with the weight of the horrible thoughts and impulses that wreck his mind, but he’ll give an answer that’s half true, give him something, maybe even sit down and talk about nonsense together to assure that he doesn’t hate the kid. He doesn’t. Wind’s a good kid, and he deserves the world.

He just needs the deity to wear itself out. So, he drops his guard, lets himself fall to the backseat and lets the demon take the reins, sweep over the field with full fury and power unleashed, hoping to exhaust his magic enough that the demon will be silent. Enemies fall like wheat to a scythe, a cloud of black and purple smoke rising in his wake as the deity rampages, blade moving uncommonly fast as he darts to the captain’s side to assist him for a moment, springs over to Twilight to aid him as well.

The deity’s voice rumbles, laughing, savoring the bloodshed and reveling just as much in fighting beside their “true heir”, beside the “dragon of war”. He doesn’t understand that, not entirely. Still, he can guess what it means, and while a dragon does seem to suit the man he’s watched wield flames with the same proficiency as a blade, calling Twilight their “true heir” seems like a direct jab, like spitting in the face of the two other heroes that follow in his wake. They’re just words though. Just more words from the demon god’s mind. They don’t matter. They’re not his thoughts.

Except that when the enemy is dead, when the shadow fled, when the battle over, those words still play in his head, an echo of the deity’s thoughts, and when he tries to take back control, he can’t.

He can’t control his own actions, can’t control even his words, can’t do anything no matter how much he desperately tries to retake control of the body that’s stalking towards where their veteran is wiping his sword off in the grass, can’t do anything as he hears the deity’s thoughts echo around him, watching as his body becomes but a puppet to the still raging demon.

“If Nayru will not prune back the dead branches, it falls to me.”

He wants to scream, to say anything, to catch his own hand as it raises, blade lifted high, but he can’t do anything.

Legend turns at the last second, eyes sharp and blade sharper as it lifts, catches the weapon descending towards him, pushes it and the strength of the deity away and slips himself back, flips over them and perfectly executes a helm-splitter, stopping seconds before their leader’s skull is cleaved in two, voice sharp as it demands to know what’s wrong with him, what he’s doing.

The deity doesn’t care, simply springs back and away, Time’s body swinging his sword at the younger hero even as Warriors shouts something unintelligible and Twilight snarls something sharp, something terrified as their “true heir” rushes towards the scion of death, the heir to failure.

The others aren’t fast enough to stop the deity though, aren’t strong enough to stop the blade clashing, lifting and falling and lifting and falling. He can see, although he can’t do anything else, as the force of the blows rattles up the veteran’s arms. Sees the way his teeth set and his body shakes as he responds, holding the deity puppeteering Time’s body off, but only by backing away, driven slowly further and further from the others who rush and hurry.

Twilight throws himself at them, but the deity catches him by the pelt. All ire fades in favor of fondness as the demon’s thoughts turn sorrowful. He can hear them, a sadness that their true heir will have to see this, a confusion of why the pup does not understand their intent. He knows, if Twilight understood, that he would never condone the actions of the demon, but he can’t say as much even to his own mind as the deity lifts and throws their boy out of reach. Not harsh, not meant to harm, but fully intending to distance the boy from their fight, to stop him interfering.

He flinches, as does his body, as the rancher hits the ground some yards away.

In the opening left by the action, Legend’s tempered sword strikes, blood gushing as the blade rips free of flesh, but the blow does nothing to stop the assault of the demon In fact, it only provokes him further, and the little control Time felt finally fall into his hands is ripped away as his body returns control to the thing that will protect it, to the demon that will not let them be harmed.

Legend is the next to go flying, but not with the care and sorrow granted to Twilight, and instead with blood dripping in his wake as the biggoron sword finally lands a blow.

The shouts of the other boys sound, and there’s the snarling of a wolf beside them.

When his body turns from the broken form of the felled vet, he’s met with the sight of drawn swords and bared teeth as the wolf launches at him. He’s not sure when or why Twi has shifted, but the teeth closing on his arm hold him back for a moment as Warriors throws him forwards as well, attempting, no doubt to seek some weakness. In the war, he’d learned to rip the masks free from his kid’s face when he must, but there’s no mask for the captain to tear away this time, and despite the affection of the deity for “the dragon of war”, the demon god still tosses the captain away, plunging through the hesitant and terrified heroes.

Time’s heart drops when he realizes the goal of the demon: the sailor, eyes hard and blade raised, even as terror and confusion have the kid’s body shaking, voice doing the same as it demands ‘why’. “Time, what’s gotten into you?”

The cry of his heart at the veteran’s fall echoes again as the blow of the deity comes down on the sailor, and while the boy dodges, he’s not fast enough to escape injury.

Blood paints the earth, paints blue fabric and darkens crimson. Pain clouds in violet eye sand in the ocean ones of their youngest.

A roar, like nothing the deity can manage, has him turning.

The last things Time sees are Sky’s blazing eyes and the matching gleam of the Master Sword.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu time #febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #ketto writes #lu wind #lu legend #lu twilight #lu warriors #lu sky #lu wild #lu hyrule #lu four #fierce deity #dark fierce deity

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breadfacednerd · 10 months

Note

can i request... a solkat.?

hey i completely lied abut posting this tomorrow i got too excited. nothing will eer be as funny as this is to me.

this is them to me. i spent my hours meant for SLEEPING on this. i will now rest forever <3

#solkat #homestuck #karkat vantas #karkat #sollux captor #sollux #hs #karsol #requests #karkat homestuck #hs karkat #hs sollux

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redheadspark · 6 months

Note

Hey may I please get something with Joseph Quinn with stay? i just ... don't want to be alone right now. ❜

And “I know alright I know I’m being an asshole but I’m trying”

A/N - Of course, I would love to write this for Joe! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Break

Summary - Joe needs a break. You are there to simply give him a break.

Warnings - a hint of angst but mostly fluff

Joseph Quinn was not a grumpy person, not by nature at least.

He was always happy to act and be on set, he loved the craft and was trying to be the best he could be everyday. But of course, like everyone else around him, Joseph was also human. He would put on a brave face most of the time when he would do interviews or promote his movies or plays, but it would be hard for him too. The constant hours on set or in rehearsals, photo shoots and traveling around the world to different Comic Cons, Joe knew he needed a break before he would get into his grumpy nature.

Sure enough, it caught onto him sooner than he thought.

You knew when to give him space when he was needed to decompress or de-stress, being his girlfriend for over a year gave you plenty of time to know and learn from his mannerisms. Most of the time he was fine, Joe knew to let it roll off his shoulders and find something to do to get his mind off of work. But there were a few times when it was too much for him, and you took that as a sign to let him be alone.

This night was one of them. You were working away from a recent order from your boss as Joe was angrily chatting with his agent on the phone in the other room. The last thing you wanted to go was add wind to the flames that were already well lit. You could even hear it in the tone of his voice that this was not a light conversation that was going to be had.

“No…no I already told you that I’m not going to be going back to that Con! It was not all how we agreed to it, and I need a few weeks off! Its been…I’m telling you it’s been a month of constant traveling, and I have a play coming up that I need to prepared for..”

You sighed, looking over at the closed bedroom door where you could hear the conversation going on. The sound in his tone and the bite after every sentence, you could hear and feel the stress radiating out of the room. Of course you wanted to walk into the room, take the phone from him and tell him to take a break, but you also knew that Joe would rather take care of his own stress on his own than to have you be involved in any way. He would brush you off with kindness, simply stating that his worries were his own and that let thing he wanted to go was make him stressed out over him.

Finally, after another five minutes, the bedroom door finally opened and you saw Joe walking back into the living room where you were perched on the couch. Seeing the tiredness on his face, laced with some stress with the bags under his eyes and the tension in his shoulders, it was a rough conversation. You simply closed your laptop as Joe slumped over to sit with you on the couch and rub his temples.

“That sounded fun,” You said in a light tone, though Joe sighed in defeat as you looked over at him with a hint of tenderness.

“It was much needed conversation that was overdue,” he hummed as he leaned back on the couch to look up at the ceiling, “I love my agent to death, but I’ll be worked to death if I don’t slow down,”

“You don’t need to be ass abut it though,” You kindly advised him as he grimaced, “At least your agent’s trying to help you out with these opportunities, and he’s trying his best—“

“I know, alright? I know I’m being an asshole but I’m trying,” Joe grumbled as he took in a long inhale. All you could do was reach over to rub his shoulder, feeling how tense he was with no real signs of slowing down. You could give him so much advice before you knew you had to let him make the choice on his own. You had no clue on what it was like being an actor and what he had to go through on a daily basis, you only saw a glimpse or the glimpse he was willing to show you. The rest was up to Joe.

“Sorry, luv,” Joe hummed as you felt him lean his head on your shoulder, you kissing the top of his head as he went on, “Last thing I want to do is be mad at you when you did nothing,”

“I do nothing because I don’t know how to help,” you reasoned, “If you need space then I can do that for you, Joe. You know that by now,”

“I do,” he replied, hiding a yawn from behind his mouth as you chucked and were about to get up from the couch, “Stay? I just…I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“I was just going to order us some dinner and we can watch something to get your mind off of it,” You explained, Joe grinning as he was looking over at you with his big brown eyes. You had to giggle, flicking his nose to have him laugh as you maneuvered off the couch, “Come on, Joe. Give me five minutes to order!”

Joe mocking sighed in defeat, though his smile was back on his face. Dialing the number from the local Italian restaurant down the street, you already knew the two dishes that you and Joe would get when you needed comfort food. It was the same restaurant where Joe took you on your first date. That small little spot held a spot in both of your hearts, and you knew it was going to help you once again in this time that Joe needed.

After placing your order and going back out to the living room, Joe was flipping through the channels to find the right thing to watch as you plopped down on the couch again, “It’s gonna take about 30 minutes,”

“Perfect,” Joe replied, wrapping you in his arms as you both were snuggling on the couch and watching the reality show that was on the screen. Joe gave you a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you,”

“For what?” You asked.

“For putting up with me when I get like this,” Joe reasoned as you giggled.

“Being a grumpy kitten. Of course, I put up with it, because I love you and you’re cute,” You teased as he poked your side. You knew deep down his grumpy side would never outweigh the happiness and bright light that he had with him. It was just a good reminder for him that he was human, and that sometimes he had the right to vent and have moments of grumpiness and stress. As long as you were there to help him and simply be present, Joe would be okay.

He was always going to be okay. Thanks to you

The End

Grumpy vs. Sunshine Prompt Session

#joseph quinn #joe quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x oc #joseph quinn x fem!reader smut #writing #fanfiction

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 1 year

Note

Hi! Can I request a fic where Bruce tries to show off to odduck? I feel like that would be so cute 🥰 if not that’s absolutely fine!

Bruce wasn't stupid.

He knew he was attractive. He knew that was why most people were interested in him to start with. But- this felt different.

Seeing your pupils dilate and watching you get flustered when you'd walked in to him working out. Bless you, you were trying so hard not to just stare at him. To be respectful. And somehow that just gave him more incentive to do it.

It was adorable, watching you try to focus on the conversation when your mind was on something vastly different. He knew what you wanted. You wanted him to let you touch him. You'd probably love to bite him. To have him take the rest of his clothes off... His poor doctor. You probably wanted a lot of things. So many things you weren't sure where to start.

"I should probably let you get back to-"

"Please don't," Bruce grunted, dropping from the pull up bar and crossing the floor, "I like having an audience."

"I- um- uh-"

"You're so cute when you're so horny you can't think straight," he teased.

"I-I- I just came down here to- I didn't mean to-"

"Don't be sorry, Doctor," he said. "You can come and objectify me any time you like." He grinned and kissed your nose. "It does wonders for my ego."

"But you hate it when-"

"I like it when you do it," he said simply. And it was true. He really did- because he didn't feel objectified- not really. You'd come down to tell him abut what you'd been working on. And you tried. Not to stare or drool. Just to talk to him. It wasn't your fault your brain short-circuited any time you looked at him. "You're so cute when you're trying to be mindful of my modesty," he teased.

"I didn't want to make you feel weird," you murmur feeling stupid.

"And I don't" he assured you, kissing your nose again, "But I am ready for a shower... if you'd like to join me-'

"Can I?" you ask, biting your lip.

"Absolutely," he chuckled. "I'm not quite done showing off yet."

#Bruce Wayne x reader #bruce wayne #ask answered #minors dni #odd duck!reader #reader insert #thirst trap thursday

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make-me-imagine · 1 year

Text

Headcanons: Flirting & Intimacy (Eddie Brock)

Headcanons: Eddie Brock and how he flirts, and how he shows intimacy (physical and not)

Pairing: Eddie Brock x Gn!Reader

Requested By: @witchygagirl

Warnings: Nothing I can think of

Flirting:

Though Eddie is not shy with his flirting, he did tend to fumble through it at first, almost as though he is nervous.

He was mostly nervous with his flirting when the two of you had just met.

He would flirt, but it would be awkward and rushed, but you found it appealing and cute way.

Once the two of you became friends, he was more open and forward with his flirting.

Eddie does not shy away from compliments, he is always willing and ready to tell you you look great, compliment the way you did something, how you said something, etc.

The compliments always have an underlying flirtiness, that you might not always pick up on.

"You look great" "I'm wearing sweatpants." "Yeah, and?"

He LOVES if you get all bashful and shy if he makes a more forward comment, and it only encourages him to do it more.

Sometimes you aren't sure if he is jut teasing you to rile you up, or if he genuinely thinks the thing he says.

He means all of them.

It's not until he genuinely asks you out on a date that you truly know he meant everything.

Now, if you flirted with him, he would shut down for half a second.

A flirty remark or a teasing comment and his mind goes blank.

He gets a bit flustered, rarely able to think of something to respond with quickly.

The flirting does not stop when you two are in a relationship. In fact it just gets worse.

And by worse, I mean more frequent, and the comments themselves are full of more innuendos and private jokes than before.

After you're in a relationship he gets better at comebacks when you flirt, since he expects it more often.

But every once and a while, especially in public, you get him good, and he can't help but stare after you with mild alarm and adoration.

Intimacy:

Eddie loves physical intimacy. Cuddling, kissing, hugging, hand holding, *clears throat* Et cetera.

He loves just being close to you, if you are near him, he feels comforted and happy.

He often presses kisses to your body. Your bare shoulders, wrist, hands cheek, temple, forehead, you name it.

One night he took it upon himself to kiss every spot, freckle, mole, and scar he could see on your body.

But he also shows intimacy with more subtle actions as well.

Placing his jacket over your shoulders when you're on a walk.

Making sure his hands brush or briefly hold yours as he hands you something.

Taking your hand when he helps you step up or down a tall step or ledge.

Placing his hand on your lower back when you are walking together.

And then there are the non-physical types of intimacy.

Intellectual intimacy.

He loves having long-winded discussions about various topics, especially when you are helping him on a story.

When you are both talking passionately abut the same things, it helps him feel closer to you in ways physical intimacy cannot.

Recreational Intimacy.

Lounging together on the couch, your legs in his lap, his hand absentmindedly drawing shapes on your legs as you both read and/or work.

Going on walks hand in hand, barely talking, just being.

Your weekend trips to the arcade, or local theater, routine centered around each other

Cooking breakfast or dinner together side by side.

One of you washing dishes while the other dries.

Sharing in domestic bliss with you often makes him feel more intimately close with you than anything else. You are his life partner after all.

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Marvel Taglist: @aquariuslavenderhoney, @trashywritestrash, @groovy-lady, @marvelouslyme96, @supersourlemon13, @mochamoff, @simsiddy, @gay-and-ready-to-cry, @flourishandblotts-inc, @spuffyfan394, @agent-catfish-kenobi, @locke-writes, @cs-please, @soultrysworld, @a-lumos-in-the-nox, @creativitybeware, @that-marvel-simp, @gatefleet,

Venom Taglist: @starship-argo, @cs-please, @lokidokieokie, @readingwithatorch,

#Eddie Brock #Venom #Eddie Brock x reader #eddie brock/reader #eddie brock headcanons #venom headcanons #venom reader insert #eddie brock x gn!reader #eddie brock flirting headcanons #marvel #marvel headcanons #eddie brock/you #eddie brock reader insert #eddie brock fluff #intimacy headcanons #flirting headcanons #headcanons #mcu

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depraved-love · 2 months

Text

Adrian x F!Darling

Firstly, I want to apologize as I lost the original ask, so I hope the one who requested this sees it.

Second, I don't remember the much being specified, in which case I go to headcanons by default. (Unless it was specified, and I messed up, in which case I'm sorry.)

At first he was incredibley confused abut what were your intentions. Why were you so set on being around him? Did you want something from him?

Be prepared to make the first moves because he will have hard time adimiting his feelings, even to himself.

When you ask to court him, he's going to act as usual, maybe a bit more cocky, but inside he's squealing and cussing himself out at the same time.

For a long time, he's going to be telling himself that he's only doing this because he is making you happy, and he's not letting himself fall in love.

That changes when you start showing him physical affection.

He had no idea how touch-starved he was.

Little touches, hugs, light kisses - it all feels so right. But he's still cautious.

Well, at least until...

One night, he was reading when you suddenly came up and sat next to him. You hugged him, your soft skin and warm body pressed against his. He could feel your warm breath and hear your heartbeat.

For some reason, this drove it home, you don't have ulterior motives. You just like him.

He went from being a grumpy cat to a puppy dog, but only when he is around you.

He starts returning the affection and spoiling you in any way he can.

Pet names.

He'll get you the most beautiful jewelry he can. He loves seeing you adorned in anything that screams you're his.

"Only the best for the light of my life."

Believe it or not, he has no experience, minus Sumi and Taka, and we know how that went.

It takes some time to become intimate with him, and he might back out in a few of the first attempts, Just give him time.

He isn't very kinky, but he's willing to experiment with you.

If you want to tie him up, you'll have to wait a long time to do so. The first time you try, it can can be the softest silk ribbon, but he'll cry anyway. A good start would be to just tie a ribbon around his wrist when the two of you are just out and about.

The one kink he does have is body worship. Both receiving and giving.

He loves when you caress every inch of his body, when you compliment every minor detail. He doesn't have much of an ego, but in those moments, he feels just that good about himself.

When he's on the giving end, he feels just as good. He loves to kiss all over you. Everything about you is perfect. Your skin is perfect, your eyes are perfect, your hair is perfect, your pussy is perfect, and your breasts are perfect.

Also, period sex might happen if you're comfortable. Dhampir can't be afraid of blood, can he?

"Just be gentle, please, my love."

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nogenderbee · 2 months

Text

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝔹𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ not a request!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Happy Birthday to KAITOOOOO!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff

Affiliation with @virtualbookstore

You and KAITO were kinda just living together by now so it was hard to realize your plans without him noticing. You did had spare houses but always ended up in one place and bed either way.

So you had to make a believable excuse so he'd be gone from this place for 2 hours or so. He was always a bit of a gentleman and... you just kinda used it... You did felt guilty for asking him to bring you soda which you knew wasn't available in any shop in a hour distance, especially since it was his birthday! But you planned it for way too long to just abandon your idea.

You wanted to bake chocolate cake, colored with blue food dye! It may sound simple but your idea surely wasn't! You also had in mind to make chocolate flowers that'll decorate the top!

So now, you tried not to think abut the guilt and instead focus on baking, keeping your phone on full volume, since your partner promised to text you once he finds what you wanted.

You just put the cake in the oven when you heard sound of notification, which you immidietly checked, hoping you still have time to finish your gift...

"<You won't believe it, they had your favorite soda in 2nd closest gallery! I'm heading home now. Or do you need anything more?>"

You noticed the opportunity to keep him occupied for a bit longer but you didn't wanted to be this mean, so you just picked up the tempo slightly.

"<No, that's all! Thanks a lot, stay safe on your way back!>"

Luckily for you, baking process went pretty smoothly! It was the chocolate flowers that you were stuck the most on... and the stress wasn't helping!

You took the cake out of the oven, which looked absolutly perfect! The bad news were that... making petals weren't as hard as attaching them without them breaking...

But you thought you were getting the hang of it when you heard door opening...

"Hey, I'm back with some soda for us!"

You quickly ran out of the kitchen, hoping to block his view and for the cake to stay a surprise. Though you seemed to forget about one important fact...

"Are you baking something? It smells like chocolate in here! You could invite me so we'd bake something together. I believe I know a thing or two from MEIKO."

"Well it's..."

You realized there's no point in lying anymore so you decided to just spill it out.

"I wanted to bake a cake for your birthday but I'm struggling with chocolate flowers..."

"Do you want me to help you? I'm not a professional but I rememberd watching others do it!"

You nodded with a small sigh. You didn't wanted him to bother making it but since you couldn't figure it out and he didn't mind... maybe it was alright?

And when both of you arrived at kitchen, his words only confirmed. He really learned how to make these from just observing. It seems you were missing the gentle touch he could effortlessly do! It was probablu just stress that rubbed off on you.

"Thank you KAITO... I'm sorry you had to help with your own birthday gift..."

"Oh, so it was gift for me? Thank you! And don't worry, I'm happy I got to spend some more quality time with you."

His words reassured you a bit, making your shoulders relax. And the genuine smile on his face only confirmed his words!

"I'm happy to hear it~ In that case, Happy Birthday!"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot - come get your soft gentleman!

#virtualnetwork #x reader #project sekai x reader #project sekai #colorful stage #project sekai colorful stage #colorful stage x reader #project sekai colorful stage x reader #kaito #kaito x reader #project sekai kaito #project sekai kaito x reader #fluff #project sekai fluff #oneshot #project sekai oneshot

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