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wolken-himmel · 2 years

Text

In which (Y/n) punishes Floyd with the silent treatment for squeezing Grim a little bit too hard.

Floyd won't let that sit with him.

Request by anon.

"Shrimpy, say something! I'm giving up on you..."

Floyd was quick on his feet, keeping up your impossible pace without even breaking a sweat, a feat probably attributed to his extremely long legs. While this chase was just another afternoon stroll to him, you were beginning to tire, your lungs constricting painfully and your feet aching.

You were left no other choice than to slow down and watch helplessly as he caught up to you, his hand eventually landing on your shoulder and squeezing it tightly. "Hey, where are you going? We aren't done yet!" he cried out, his voice going up and down in a childish way. You would have found it adorable if it weren't for the anger inside of you.

Even when his grip on your shoulder tightened to the point where you couldn't walk on anymore, you squeezed your eyes shut and continued anyway. That made the whiplash you experienced when he actively pulled you back to face him worse.

"Shrimpy? Shrimpy!" Floyd called out and furrowed his eyebrows at you. His eyes were as bright and innocent as that of a puppy, and you would have probably fallen for it if it weren't for the way you awkwardly averted your gaze. "I don't get why you don't wanna talk to me... You're missing out on so much fun! There's this one really funny story I wanted to tell you." His voice grew quiet, now genuinely disheartened.

A little sigh escaped his lips and his smile slipped off his face when you freed yourself from his grip in a moment of weakness.

You quickened your pace, basically sprinting down the hallway. Behind you, his nimble foot steps echoed through the corridor and reached your ears. The whole scenario felt like a horror movie to you, and you hated every single second of it.

Sadly for you, he caught up easily again.

This time, he grabbed your upper arm and whirled you around to push you against the row of lockers on the wall. The world became wonky as you tried to stop the way your vision spun wildly.

"Come on~!" he cried out and put one hand beside your head to lean on it. "You're even quieter than those rocks at the bottom of the ocean..." His eyes furrowed in concern, he brought his face closer to yours, as if it check for something wrong. Again, you avoided his gaze as if it burnt you. An exasperated sigh escaped his pursed lips. "Fine, I'll just squeeze a sound out of you, if that's what you want..."

Without a warning, he grabbed you by your waist and heaved you over his shoulder. It was as if you weighed nothing more than a feather with how effortlessly he carried you away. Even your fists banging against his back wouldn't make him stop.

"Let me down!" you yelled once you couldn't hold it in anymore.

A satisfied grin appeared on his face when your frenzied voice reached his ears. "Hah, got you to talk again..." he cooed teasingly while placing you to the floor again, laughing as if nothing had ever happened.

However, his laughter soon stopped when he noticed the serious scowl on your face.

"Don't you understand that I'm angry with you?"

"Wait..." He tilted his head to the side. "What are you angry for?"

His question caused you to grow even angrier, and it all reached its climax when you screamed, "For almost killing Grim yesterday!" Your chest rising up and down unevenly, your hands were clenched into tight fists.

Unaffected by your sudden outbreak, Floyd looked at you in confusion. "But I squeeze people all the time, I know how to do it in a non-lethal way!" he exclaimed, still not getting your point. "I am a certified expert, one might say."

You narrowed your eyes at him, and it was the first time today that you looked him straight in the eyes. "I don't joke around when someone hurts my friends..." As if all energy had left your body, your shoulders sank forward and you gaze drifted to the floor. "Look, Floyd. You're really funny, and I like hanging out with you... but it just doesn't sit right with me that you almost killed Grim. Maybe we just need some time apart."

"No! I can change. I'll be a completely different eel tomorrow!"

"You're lying."

At your remark, he broke out into unstoppable laughter, even going as far as wiping a tear from his left eye. "Of course I am merely jesting... Hehe, you saw right through me, you smart Shrimpy!" His smile grew smaller when he noticed that you weren't laughing along. Then, much to your surprise, his eyes became serious. "But... I guess I could squeeze your friends a little bit less if you want me to... Your friends are too squishy to have fun with, anyway."

You raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "You, Floyd Leech, are ready to compromise?"

"Hey, I'm not a barbarian," he exclaimed, offended, "I'll have you know!"

After having looked him up and down a dozen of times, you crossed your arms and shot him a sceptical look. "Well, how do I know you say the truth," you muttered under your breath.

He shrugged. "If you want me to, I'll swear on Jade."

Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets at his answer. The reaction he got from you caused him to snicker to himself, satisfied and amused at the same time. Realising that he was laughing at your open mouth, you rolled your eyes and merely whispered, "...you're a peculiar eel, Floyd..." But, you couldn't suppress a smile from forming.

That was when he pulled you into a tight embrace. "I know, and that's why you like me, Shrimpy!"

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #reader insert #y/n #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #twst floyd #twst floyd leech #twst floyd x reader #twisted wonderland floyd #gender neutral reader

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castle-dominion · 11 months

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5x21 still

beautiful music & coffee RC: Yes, which is writer-speak for “all procrastinations welcome”. So what was it? A terrorist plot? A meth lab?

Women hate it when men do that

six minutes is a long enough time bro

Love the badges lol. also love the writer jacket

mum suggested that this is not diego

GET OUT OF THERE BABES GET OUT GET OUT

he WAS planning on selling baseball cards

Oh NO she got trapped or it's a mine

Ok but if it is that sensitive with my adhd I'd die

RC: Loose nail. That’s how floorboards get wonky. KB: You know, if I have to be stuck not standing on a bomb, then I’m glad I’m stuck with you. remember Cuffed?

mahoney my beloved

Gates my beloved & ryan's outfit my beloved

Spray paint my beloved like in indiana jones-- hE SAID THE SAME THING

No it cannot. Going DOWN should not set it off... shifting weight should not set it off, gosh my add would kill me

it's a unique episode, stationary instead of running around after murderers bomb buddy <3

RC, correct: That would be great if you were a reliable judge of your own feelings, which clearly, you’re not. But he brings up the wrong example. She liked you as an author, then she thought u were annoying & you thought she was hot, then you realized she was more than hot & she kind of liked you even tho she hated you, & then you fell for each other & he stopped liking you for being hot but for being you (including your hotness lol)

love all the flashbacks his ear XD APPLES ajdfasjdkfhsjfh I love the flshbacks

RC: Oh, geez. How do you even get in that position? The three boys: EW EW EWWWW

her hair became boring. I miss her old hair

KB: That’s not how I meant it. I can’t help it if you get off by putting things in my mouth.

She's right he did WAY more with bad sayings lol

Cut to: we've never done this before (escept yk that's not what actually happens)

Poor Boyer. poor boyer ten months hhh

Gates my beloved What was that with gates & esposito

BRO... WHAT ARE YOU THINKING

OH NO HE'S DEAD I FORGOT

Oh no he probably set a bunch of bombs!

Like a colonoscopy

Quick as we can, slow as we have to you have a daughter get rid of your porn collection? (esposito: I got u covered bro) WAIT I WAS RIGHT RC: You need me to hind your porn stash so your dad doesn’t find it? I don't make promises. Esp if idk what I'm promising to do

wow hours...

What if I think of ice cream on a sunday afternoon? What if I think of something on a something afternoon? It's ice cream on a sunday afternoon I lick I lick. What flavour of the ice cream will I pick? I want RASP BER RY. I want CHO CO LATE. I want chocolate chip mint chocolate chip with chocolate sauce-a

Lanie knew (& maddie knew & esposito knew & jordan shaw knew & that fbi guy with the dirty bomb knew) how did I forget about natalie rhodes? (& demming asked castle) Who is that last gal tho?

Many of those were undercover & there was that one when she was on a date with the puppy fireman-- BTW WHY DIDN'T ESPOSITO LOOK INTO HIM WHEN THEY WERE TRYING TO FIGURE OUT ABOUT CASKETT?

KB: No, it wasn’t a coincidence because you were always following me around. Why? ‘cause you were into me.

Castle is just playing her lol

They didn't have that silly fake sound when he got hit

They are seriously calling esposito? (also what is the injury on his arm? Is it ever explained? No? Good. I like how he is allowed to have random injuries that have explanations even if they were not explained onscreen. Maybe he was cooking. He has a life outside of what we see.)

JE: Seriously? Who liked who first? JE: You do realize that I’m busy trying to save your life? JE: listens, but he doesn’t really care. KR: Who’re you talking to? He covers the microphone. JE: It’s Castle and Beckett. I think they’re starting to crack. Check it out. He flips his phone over to speaker. KR gives JE a look. They’ve lost interest. KR: Yeah, well, totally losing it. JE: Yep.

Why is there a timer too?

30m & not 47 seconds exactly castle my man

Only half an hour left? Oof look at these beautiful scenes look at this flashback but it is different from the previous funny ones I just love it

MARTHA BUSTING IN ON THEM LMAO

The story always matters The flashbacks are getting annoying but actually I like it. & then the samebrain moments. I just saw a youtube video of samebrain moments & then his spun tales I love it. Spinning too far insane

RIGHT? THE BASEBALL CARDS WERE INDEED SUS

Read em through each individually

Oof only 10m left. I can't believe it has taken hours & then suddenly only 30m left

Clever of her to have made him promise this Girl you have a daughter

First name hhhhhh I love you HHHHH Always

Has she had anything to drink all day?

Calling her dad hkjsdfhsjkdfhh good for her this is saddddd who else does she absolutely need to call

MONTGOMERY HJKASHFDJKHSFJDSKFJSGHJDSKFSDJ

this is another flashback sequence sjfdksljfklsdj mmmmmmm

Great scene there camera angle like that

But srs what if they DO like put a box beside her

CASTLE IS SO CLEVER

But that didn't mean anything, diego didn't know anything...

Porn, more porn witness protection?

Ryan has removed his tie... (someone should take pics from allllll angles & on all days for this man & his outfit)

But what is the kid's NEW name? & what was his code BEFORE he got the name?

five digit code tho JE: What kind of mother’s gonna call her kid Willy unless she wants his ass kicked every day at the playground? could have been the kid's bday

Maybe DON'T step off yet just in case it only deactivated the timer...

Love how he slams the table once castle confirms she's off

Always <3

ngl when I first noticed the red car (in under the influence with the musician & the foster kid, the joey malone ep) I thought it was his personal vehicle but it has lights & stuff on it. & gates is in it huh THAT'S WHY HE TURNED ON THE SIREN, TO PREVENT THEM FROM KISSING IN FRONT OF GATES also becks needs some water & food sharing hugs but they didn't switch hugs, it was only especkett & rystle.

Even you mr castle! She was a detective too! gates <3 <3 <3 castle looks so proud lol

clipping that lol

the music jfsdhfskdhjdsj but they def had more kisses that were not onscreen again with the flashback I'm love

What a great kiss

#castle 5x21 #castle 5x21 spoilers #castle 5x21 quote #the floor mine episode

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1nsomniacwriter · 2 years

Text

Ladies, gentle men, and everything in between I present to you yet another idea born from the depths of my mind an extremely tiring day. This one has been bouncing around my poor head for a little over a week and at long last I know how to word it in a way that makes sense. Hopefully.

So we all know that Dazai doesn't particularly like dogs. Some people think it is do to some kind of trauma. I am not one of those people. Not everything to do with a person or character is linked to a past experience sometimes that's just how they are. Personally I don't think Dazai has any experience with a dog that traumatized and made him hate them. I just think he has never liked them.

Now sometimes people who don't like dogs will accidentally and to their shock come across a dog that completely steals their heart and they absolutely love. They won't like any other dog. They aren't suddenly a dog person but they would gladly kill for that one specific dog. This idea stems from that.

I'm thinking this would most likely happen a few weeks to about 2-3 months after Dazai leaves the Port Mafia. So he's alone and in hiding. One day he goes out for groceries, because food and bandages, and there's this group of kids in an ally, they're maybe a year or two younger than Dazai would be at the time, and are surrounded a small creature. Dazai doesn't think much off it till he hears whining from the animals followed by what sounds like someone intentionally harming it.

Dazai, against his better judgment, decided to get involved. He scares these kids off and finds a small red nosed pitbull puppy that is a few months old. She is easily less than a year old. She's banged up but not hurt so bad that he need to take her to the vet. Once more against his better judgement he brings this puppy back to where ever he is staying at the time. He plans to only keep her around till she is finished healing then take her to an animal shelter.

It takes him less than a week to decide to keep the puppy. He then proceeds to name her Ember. Ember becomes the only exception to his hatred for dogs. Fast forward to him joining the agency and Ember now has separation anxiety because he barely left her alone for the last two years. He brings Ember with him to the agency every day. Ember, being the sweetheart she is, learns rather quickly how to do things that protect Dazai while in the field.

Throughout the time he is with Ember he starts to do better mentally at least marginally because she is reliant on him being alive to survive and he doesn't want his puppy to die. Essentially Ember is his unofficial emotional support animal.

Due to that him meeting Atsushi would probably go different. Possibly him walking Ember or something like that.

Later on when he reunites with Chuuya officially during the Guild arc he naturally brought Ember and that would be the first time Chuuya meets her. Ember instantly loves him which is good because Chuuya also adores her.

Dazai uses that as an excuse to spend time with Chuuya because "Obviously I can't deprive my sweet Ember of time with her second favorite person". Somewhere along the line they start unofficially dating and about a week after dead apple would have taken place they make things official and Dazai moves into Chuuya's place.

Ember is very happy with that development because that means more time with her favorite humans.

Also Ember has a wonky ear due to what happened when Dazai found her. It's nothing bad it's just wonky and makes her look like an adorable little dork.

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peralta-guaranteed · 3 years

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Jake finds out his firat grey hair

"NOPE!", is the first thing Amy hears that morning as she wakes up, the bed beside her surprisingly empty. The kids are at Captain Holt's for the weekend, and they've enjoyed a late, late evening because of that, but Jake is already getting ready for their free day, it seems. He stumbles out of the bathroom seconds later, in nothing but boxers, and she's a bit too busy enjoying the view to see the distraught look on her husband's face.

"Ames, we gotta change the bathroom mirror."

"What? Why?"

"Because." Jake stammers. "The, uh, colours are all wonky. Maybe it's a production mistake."

"We've had that mirror for six years, and suddenly there's a problem with the colours?"

"Yeah." He hurries over to their closet, rummages through it in search of yet another flannel, the blue and green ones right at the front apparently not good enough for today. He returns with a bright red and yellow one he never really wears because the colours are 'too crazy even for him', picking up a pair of distressed jeans and then dropping them again, choosing a simpler black pair instead.

Amy watches him, piecing together all the clues - his wildly tousled hair, more than just sleep could ever manage, his bathroom troubles, his apparent distaste of dull coloured clothing - and she can't help but grin widely as she turns around under the covers, slides to the edge of the bed to get closer to him.

"Jake?" She purrs, the teasing in her voice still at a low setting. "Did you find a gray hair?"

He freezes completely, like some prey animal being caught by a raptor. It's followed by a slumping of shoulders and a long, seemingly endless whine as he drops down on his knees in front of the bed, buries his face in the covers next to her. She resists stroking through his hair for only a second, but he shivers when her fingers touch the back of his neck.

"I'm gonna rip it out." He growls into the mattress.

"Rip one out and two will come back, my abuela always said." She teases more while winding one of his longer curls around her finger.

"Ames!" He whines, turning his head enough to stare her down with just one eye.

"You're gonna look so good with Salt'n'Pepper hair." She purrs again, but he only groans.

"Don't say that!"

"The most distinguished dad on the playground." She whispers in his ear as she leans closer.

"Nooooo!" He yelps and turns to sit in front of the bed, leaning his head back, Amy's fingers immediately going through the front of his light brown curls.

"It's not that bad, Jake. You're nearly forty..."

"Grandfathers have gray hair. Not dads."

"Your dad was almost completely white long before Mac showed up."

"He doesn't count. He's outlier-Dad. Skewing the skala."

"Mh. That's not- actually that kinda is how it works, but it still doesn't change the fact that you have some gray hairs and are long away from being a grandpa, babe."

Jake sits up and turns around, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Some?!"

"Uh." She bites her lip as her eyes flit up from his to his hair. "I think I counted five last week on the couch, but the light might've been off-"

"FIVE?" He yelps again before rifling through his own hair, pulling strong enough he might actually tear some of those gray hairs out without planning to.

"Jake." Amy grabs his hands and pulls them close, pulling him with them. "It's five little hairs on a mop of curls. I mean, you could also be going bald, so count your blessings. It's no big deal."

Jake sighs, dipping his head into the mattress right in front of her, then looking up like a kicked puppy.

"You're still gonna love me all old and gray and wrinkly?"

"Babe." She says almost reprimandingly, not needing to even give an answer to that. "Besides, you'll have to look at me all old and gray and wrinkly too."

"Lies. Slander. You'll be gorgeous until the end. With a silver mane and laugh lines."

She does laugh at that, and kisses him, her fingers tugging through his hair and graciously omitting the two new gray ones she notices then.

#B99 #Brooklyn 99 #Peraltiago #Jake Peralta #Amy Santiago #my writing #ficlet

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meetmymouth · 4 years

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An angst blurb where y/n caught Harry in a terrible lie and how he tries to fix everything

thank you for the request mwah hope you like this :’)

1.8k below the cut!!!!!

(there might be some typos and stuff like that but i’ll fix them later sorry)

Y/N took a deep breath as she closed the front door behind her. It was Thursday which meant happy hour at the pub near their flat so she was excited for cider after cider and well, to see her friends. Despite feeling drained from the week’s workload and her boss cornering her about the next week’s article, a tired smile appeared on her lips at the thought of letting loose with the people she loved the most.

She took her Adidas trainers off and placed them next to Harry’s Nikes while tying her hair into a messy bun. After doing her ‘after-work’ routine in the bathroom (washing her hands, taking her rings and earrings off...), she made her way towards the stairs that led up to the bedrooms, passing the quiet living room in which the telly showed Nigella on mute.

Since Harry was having time-off from work, she knew he was either in the bathroom or doing something in their bedroom upstairs. Since he wasn’t anywhere to be found downstairs, she made her way up to their bedroom, noting to fix the wonky photo frames on the walls that welcomed her as she took each step. When she came to the last step, she called his name.

“Harry?”

When no one replied, she opened the slightly ajar door to find a tall body sleeping between the covers. As she made her way towards him, she smiled at his lack of clothes and damp hair which caused a dark patch on his pillow.

Taking a look at the digital clock on the bedside table, she patted the area where Harry was laying to make sure she wouldn’t sit on his legs.

“Baby,” she whispered while she gently petted his cheek. She couldn’t help but feel tingly when her palm made contact with his growing scruff.

Harry nuzzled his cheek into Y/N’s palm and slowly opened his eyes which showed he couldn’t have been asleep for more than half an hour.

She smiled at the sleepy boy and gave a kiss to her nose.

“You OK babe?”

“Yeah, just passing time while you’re being a boss ass babe at work” he murmured and lifted himself on the bed, getting closer to her. “Missed youuuu,”

“Missed you more” it was true. Ever since Harry started spending most of his time at her flat since he was taking some time off from recording and meetings, they both became somewhat clingy and needy for each other which- she didn’t even care to be honest.

They were always together. They woke up to each other. They cooked together. They had sex at least twice a day. They touched each other like they were teenagers and they went to sleep after they read their books in bed, side by side. Sometimes she offered to read him if she thought the book was something that would interest him while Harry too loved reading bits from his book because he knew she liked collecting quotes in her notes app.

While she was daydreaming about their routine, Harry got up from the bed and made his way to the wardrobe.

She looked at his pale bum and chuckled.

“Doing squats lately?” she asked, knowing how he kept complaining about his bum getting bigger because he couldn’t stop eating too much carbohydrates (she caught him stealing bread numerous times from the bread bin before bed).

He scoffed as he struggled to put his boxers on and Y/N went to hug him from behind and she kissed his shoulders which were still warm from his nap.

“You’re so cosy. Mmm, look at these broad shoulders. You’re well fit, aren’t you,”

“Yeah, mock me arse and then compliment me shoulders. That won’t work”

She smirked at the way he leaned back on her body and how he stopped trying to get her boxers on as they stayed very low on his hips.

“Why you leaning back on me then huh?” She touched her lips to his left shoulder again and blew a raspberry as he wiggled his shoulders in hopes of breaking free.

He turned and surged forwards, capturing her lips in a needy kiss. As she opened her mouth, he immediately went for her tongue. She chuckled at the spit running down his chin and wiped it off with the palm of her hand.

“Messy”

“I like it messy”

“Yeah you’re such a boy,” she kissed the side of his mouth and they parted.

“You coming with? To the pub?” she asked and watched as he took her beige trousers and a white t-shirt from the wardrobe.

Satisfied with his nod, Y/N placed one last kiss between his shoulder blades and left the room, wanting to take a quick shower before changing into her most comfortable jeans- if there was such thing.

Remembering the forgotten toiletry bag downstairs beside where she threw her bag on the sofa, she left the bathroom without his trousers on and went down the stairs, laughing at Harry who sent her a wink from where he was seated on the bed.

It was nearly seven which left her an hour to get ready. It was fine, she thought and spared a glance at her legs while she walked, noticing the little growing hairs. When she arrived where her makeup bag was, the letters on the coffee table caught her eye.

Piled up letters and parcels weren’t anything unusual for their household though Y/N made sure to open everything in time in case they got anything urgent like bills and stuff like that. Since there was one teared open, she put the makeup bag back and took the rectangular envelope in her hands.

They weren’t a sneaky couple: neither Y/N or Harry ever went through each others’ phones or went behind each others’ backs in any way. Hence why she felt like she could take a look inside the envelope since she didn’t even read the name on it first.

She unfolded the paper which looked like it’s been read before and started reading it herself. It was obviously a legal letter of sorts but she didn’t know much about those so she didn’t care much until she went to put the paper back to where it was that she stopped abruptly. A name caught her eye and she re-opened the paper.

There it was, in bold, both Harry’s and Camille’s full names.

She didn’t know any legal terms but what she’d gathered from the letter was that Harry waiving something something house something something and lots of numbers.

At that moment, Y/N pierced everything together and her body felt like it was on fire.

Harry, her boyfriend of two years, who was also upstairs in their shared bedroom, had paid for Miss Rowe’s Los Angeles mansion.

Now, she didn’t know what her house looked like but according to the numbers on the letter, it wasn’t a simple three bedroom house.

She threw the letter on the sofa and ran upstairs. Part of her was trying to be calm because you know what, she was an adult! That being said, this was massive. Huge! Her boyfriend was paying for her ex girlfriend’s house.

She didn’t care that it was his ex girlfriend. She just hated the fact that he never ever thought of mentioning this to her. Because he knew how crazy it would sound.

“Y/N? It’s nearly seven,” Harry caught her from her shoulders before they came toe to toe.

She shrugged his hands off and took a second before deciding on how to go from there.

Harry watched her with curiosity since she looked like she was holding back an ear piercing scream which- she somehow was. Her mouth was twitching and he could tell that she was grinding her teeth.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” she asked but didn’t stop there:

“No, fuck it. When were you going to tell me how much of a sneaky bastard you were?” she watched as his mouth opened and closed in shock.

“What?”

Y/N wanted to slap herself. She wanted to stump her feet and cry and she wanted to puke.

“You’re a sneaky bastard. You paid for her house?” a sarcastic laugh left her mouth as she kept going.

“You actually paid for her house and you didn’t think of mentioning it to me? I mean, I don’t even give a fuck if you were still friends with her. Or met up with her. You know I’m fine with it. I don’t give a fuck. But paying for her house?”

“Y/N-”

“No. Don’t. This is big, Harry. This is fucked up. You went behind my-”

“It’s not like we’re poor so we won’t have any money left!” his tone matched hers now and it made Y/N angrier.

They were stood in the middle of their corridor, Y/N in nothing but her knickers and the blouse she wore to work today and Harry with only his trousers on.

She felt herself getting sweatier by the second.

“You’re a fucking joke. You think I’m angry because you spent money? I’m not your mother, I don’t care what you spend your money on, you muppet. It’s the fact that you never mentioned this to me. You realise how big this is?” She tried passing his lanky body but he grabbed her arm.

“Look, I’m sorry. I was going to mention it to you, I was waiting for the appropriate time!”

“Appropriate time?! Are you fucking with me? There’s nothing you could say to make this better, just get out of my face. I don’t want to look at you. I’m serious”

“Y/N, please. Just- let’s just sit down and talk-”

She finally went past him, right into the bedroom as she looked for something to cover her bare legs. Harry didn’t make any sound as he possibly waited for her to come out and have a ‘proper’ chat but it wasn’t going to be that easy. She didn’t even want to hear his voice. After she was successfully dressed in a pair of old joggers, she grabbed Harry’s checkered jacket from the rack, opened the door and passed Harry as he followed her like a puppy down the stairs.

His silence spoke volumes; he knew he was guilty so he opt for silently following his girlfriend around as she collected her phone and her bag.

“Where are you going? You know we never leave this house without talking it out!” He finally spoke, his voice cracking a tad.

She scoffed and put her trainers on. As she took the car keys to Harry’s Mercedes, he caught her arm again.

“Leave it, Harry”

“No, look at me,”

“Fucking leave it! Go and have a look at your other documents in case you find another statement that shows how much you paid for her car. Don’t call me”

***

this is SO long for a blurb so i might make a part 2! didn’t proofread but will do later tonight.

send me more blurbs i will write shorter ones i promise lol x

#harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry x reader #my writing #harrysgucciloafers #harry styles x y/n #harry smut #harry styles writing #ask #anonymous #blurb asks

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damedamedame · 4 years

Note

I CAME AS SOON AS I HEARD YOUR REQUESTS WERE OPEN

Ahem-- can I please ask for Akane and Hanako (if you don't write for Hanako you can just do Akane!) with an s/o that's always bright and cheery but out of the blue they're suddenly acting different? Headcanons, if you will ^^

Thank you in advance and I love your works ♡

VARIOUS X READER - HEADCANONS

- “Sunshine.”

NOTES: KIRA !! HI OMG I DID THIS SAME THING TO YOU SO ✨EQUIVALENT EXCHANGE✨AND I LOVE YOUR WORKS TOO 🥺

@sparkleswritings

AKANE AOI + READER

yknow

Akane probably has a tracker for your mood

UH NONO HE DEFINITELY HAS ONE ISTG

Scratch that, he’s memorized you more than his math formulas.

Our time boy is??? so??? prepared???

bUT HE STILL PANICS ™ WHEN HE SEES YOU DOWN THO KSNSNS

It’s like

You’re his sweet, sunshine, love of his life—

A second later, you accidentally overthink and just :(((

Your friend looks at you, 👁👄👁 because normally you were being a pestering but optimistic little gremlin

“(Y/N)?? You okay??”

“I-I don’t know, I’m just :<”

currently thinking about how pluto isn’t a planet anymore ngl i’m sad

If you’re nowhere near him, his (Y/N) instincts will kick in and he will be rushing to where you are—

Step 1 : Asks what’s wrong

Step 2 : Comfort sad bean

Step 3 : Ask again a few seconds later

*Repeat Steps 1, 2, 3 until you stop him*

For real tho, Akane is going to comfort you in any way possible when you’re feeling down !!

Brings things that make you happy, lowkey offering them to you :’))

This makes you giggle a bit bec he’s treating you like a queen (that you are)

That giggle coming from you is literally just music to his ears

He might even keep a recording of that jsyk 👀

“Hey, Akane? I’m feeling kinda sa--”

“DON’T WORRY I’LL SPEND THE WHOLE DAY MAKING YOU FEEL BETTER” 💞

HANAKO + READER

This boy is the ultimate panic ™

He won’t really show to you that he’s like panicking ™

But if you ask Nene if he’s panicking???

She will look at you with legit dead eyes

“You don’t wanna know, (Y/N).”

He’s going to look like he’s not affected, prolly cracks some jokes here and there—

Don’t be fooled !!

Internally, this boy is just— screaming.

You came to the bathroom, a frown on your face

i’ve been reminded of pluto’s planetary status again and i

Hanako immediately notices you and asks what’s wrong :’))

It may come off in a teasing manner but he’s genuinely worried 😣

“Hey, (Y/N), you look like a sad puppy, what’s wrong :0 ??”

“Hah,, nothing, Hanako..”

Kou + Nene already know they’re in it for the long run

Especially when they see

Hanako’s expression

He’s blinking quite a few times, obv shocked because his bright and amazing star didn’t

Act?? Like that??

Please be prepared for more unexpected kisses and hugs that day 💕

BUT !

He’ll leave you alone if you need space, kinda guilty-looking

ykyk that one scene where he takes off his cap and 😔

but when you return oh boy

Showers you in affection when you cheer up !!

Showers you with even more affection if he manages to cheer you up !!

Hanako just wants his dorky s/o back and trust me, he’ll do whatever it takes

i think that shows in the latest chapters of tbhk but hey i’m not saying anything

END NOTES: i wrote this using my phone so aaa i’m sorry it looks a lil wonky !! but i hope you enjoy *^*

taglist !! : @astrxrism

#tbhk x reader #toilet bound hanako kun #akane aoi x reader #hanako x reader #akane aoi #tbhk hanako #jibaku shounen hanako kun #tbhk

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imwatermeloness · 3 years

Text

Trust me

Chapter 1 is out, go show it some love :)<3

Summary: 5 times Tony had to trust someone else to take care of Peter and one time he shouldn't have

Chapter summary: Tony and Peter go skydiving. Parker luck strikes and Peter pays the price.

Read it here!

__________

"I can't believe I let you rope me into this." Tony grumbles in the driver’s seat, fisting the steering wheel tightly in a white knuckled grip.

Peter rolls his eyes at the man and leans back in his own seat. “I thought you weren’t scared of anything.”

It had taken a lot of persuasion to get Tony to agree to skydiving with him, without Iron Man. With the suit there would have literally been no point to the activity. Peter had spent weeks talking the man into coming with him and only when he had accused Tony of being scared, had the man assented, though begrudgingly.

The billionaire fixes him with a glare. “I didn’t say that. I said I’m not scared of anything, except for Pepper and your aunt.”

"Then there’s no reason not to do this.” Peter countered with a self-satisfied grin.

The man scoffs. “Speak for yourself, guess who’s going to have his head torn off if I come back and tell them that I let you fall to your death cause I didn’t have the suit.”

“I’m not going to fall to my death, Mr. Stark.”

That makes Tony look oddly alarmed. “For that, I’m gonna need you to knock on wood, kid.”

There’s nothing in the car that’s made of wood, not even cardboard coffee cups or receipts. Tony keeps the car freakishly clean. So Peter knocks his hand on his head, eliciting a scolding look from the man. Tony doesn’t like when Peter plays down or mocks his own intellect, even if it's a joke. He makes a show of putting his hand back down. “I didn’t know you were superstitious. Didn't you say you don’t believe in magic?”

“I’m heavily relying on past statistics. You have a habit of getting into trouble right after promising me you’re not gonna get into trouble. I’m not risking it.”

Peter breathes out a laugh. “Oh come on, it'll be fun. It's supposed to give you the adrenaline rush of your life." He moves his hands in an arch to add drama.

Tony’s grip on the wheel tightens just a fraction. He glances at Peter briefly, an unreadable expression clouding his expression. "I get heart palpitations just from watching the footage from your suit. I'm good on adrenaline."

Peter huffs impatiently and turns nearly sideways in order to give Tony his full attention. The man looks like he’s about to tell him to sit back but Peter opens his mouth before the man does. "Don't be a grumpy Gus, please, just try to enjoy it, for me?" He only widens his eyes a little bit, but it does the trick.

Tony grumbles something incoherent under his breath that sounds a lot like ‘damn puppy dog eyes’ and blows out a breath. Then, “fine.”

----------

They’re in the plane and they're both attached to other people by harnesses that wrap around their upper bodies. Tony is going to jump first. He’s standing in the open doorway of the small plane, his back against the tandem instructor’s chest, looking wildly uncomfortable. Peter is not sure if it’s because of being so close to a complete stranger or the fact that he knows he’s going to be free falling through the sky in just a minute. Nevertheless, the man looks like he would rather be anywhere else right now. Mr. Stark turns around for the last time and locks eyes with the man Peter is strapped against. His eyes are steely and Peter is glad he’s not on the receiving end of that look.

“That’s my kid, you bring him down safe, capiche?” Peter’s cheeks heat up fiery red as he hears the man’s firm ‘yes, sir’. Tony nods once and looks back at Peter.

“You okay?”

Peter wants to roll his eyes again. Tony is such a mother hen. Deciding against it he simply smiles reassuringly and gives Tony a thumbs up. “Yup.” And it’s the truth. Sure, he’s nervous but it’s trumped by the adrenaline filled excitement that’s coursing through his veins now that it’s almost the time to jump. He honestly can’t wait.

Tony nods one more time and pats Peter’s shoulder. “Alright, kid. I’ll see you when you get down. Happy trails!”

And then they jump. Peter watches them float down until they’re merely a small dot against the large area of sand they’re supposed to land on. His heart is racing so hard that he can feel it in his ears.

“Ready, kid?” his flying instructor asks, walking them closer to the edge. Peter swallows down the bubbling anxiety and nods determinatedly, gripping the shoulder straps of his harness. “Yeah.” he says, “let’s do this.”

And suddenly they’re falling. It feels sort of like one of those amusement park attractions that drop down from really high up and make your stomach feel all wonky. it's exhilarating, insane, amazing, terrifying but so, so great. The oxygen is a lot thinner than down in the ground and for a second it's hard to breathe. His mouth is gaping like he’s seen fish do. He breaks out in startled laughter at the feeling that reverberates from the bottom of his stomach throughout his whole body.

It’s incredible.

Until they suddenly jerk violently and are flipped upside down, falling heads first towards the rapidly approaching ground. He hears the skydiving instructor yelp and it's only a half a second later that Peter registers a snap from somewhere in his lower leg, that is soon engulfed by absolute searing agony that emanates from his right ankle. It feels like someone is trying to rip his foot from the rest of his leg. He doesn't even realize that he has been screaming until he closes his mouth to grit his teeth together. His eyes fill with hot salt water and Peter can instantly tell from past experience that his ankle is definitely broken, there's no other possibility. He's felt this pain so many times.

They start spinning around wildly and Peter gets so disoriented that he is unable to tell up from down. He can't really see anything other than the chaotic blur of ground that he can make out occasionally and that they are nearing at an alarming speed.

The man behind him yells something at him but Peter can't concentrate on anything other than the unforgiving burning in his ankle. Peter looks up and what he sees makes his heart drop down to his stomach. The drogue chute has somehow inexplicably wrapped itself around his ankle. The sight of it makes the pain worsen tenfold and Peter bites his lip so he won't scream again. Oh man, what if this thing rips my foot clean off. It feels like it. Could he still be Spider-Man with only one foot? Tony could probably make him a really good prosthetic, with so many different features. He doesn't want a prosthetic, though. He wants to keep his leg and he doesn’t want to be an amputee. Oh God he doesn’t want to lose a limb because of something so stupid.

The rope squeezes his ankle so tight that Peter is half scared that it's cutting off the blood circulation to his foot. It feels worse than getting shot. Delirious from pain Peter thinks the rope might be caught on his shoe so he frantically kicks his sneaker off with his other foot, but it changes nothing. His ankle is still being strangled and no matter how much he flails his leg around, the rope won't budge.

Then finally his head clears enough to hear what the man is yelling in his ear.

"Kid! Kid, are you okay?"

Peter grunts, fighting to keep his voice level. "Y-yeah, yeah, it's just- my foot, it's-"

"Alright, you're okay.” The man sounds just as scared as Peter is although he is hiding it a lot better. “I'm gonna get us down! Just take a deep breath. I'll count to three and on three I'm going to pull the emergency chute. It's gonna get rocky but we'll be fine."

Peter pants because now the pain is on the point of being unbearable. He manages to nod shakily. "O-okay."

"Okay, one, two, THREE!"

It knocks the breath out of Peter's lungs. The abrupt stop in motion feels like getting hit by a car and he can already tell his whole torso is going to be bruised. He can't stop the yelp of pain that escapes through his lips when the movement jostles his leg violently. Deploying the emergency chute has flipped them back into the right position and now they’re floating down feet first.

Peter can't remember the rest of the way down. All he knows is the erratic race of his heart, the all consuming torment in his ankle and the strange numbness that he associates with shock. He thinks the tandem instructor might have talked to him but he can’t be sure. Once Peter's feet touch the ground his vision whites out and he almost faints when he feels the bones in his ankle creak. It suddenly strikes him that they could have very well died.

All the adrenaline drains out of him at once and he sags against the chest of the man behind him. Maybe he should faint. He wants to faint. He doesn't want to feel or think about the mess that is his leg. He can tell that it's bad, just from the feeling. Tears fill his eyes again and he tries to blink them back but then his lower lip starts trembling and he really wants May.

The man places a comforting hand on Peter's chest, rubbing it softly and shushes him quietly, all the while Peter trembles and shakes like a leaf. He's dazed and can't catch a single thought, his mind like a carousel, spinning out of control.

------------

Tony lands with the man and his legs feel like jello. That was… God awful. This is the last time he agrees to any of Peter’s insane ideas. The whole way down all he could think about was the chute malfunctioning or the harnesses malfunctioning or the tandem instructor having a heart attack or something. His mind went through every single worst-case-scenario where something went wrong and they fell down, only leaving two wet smears of red in their wake.

Nothing happened though, thank God, and they descended safely. Although, the sight that greets him raises his hackles right back up again. The people around him, even the ones helping him out of the harness are all mesmerized by something that is happening above them, in the air. He’s confused for a moment until his mind freezes on a thought. Peter. Heart pounding he leaps off the ground and gazes up. Sure enough, it’s Peter and his skydiving instructor.

Something is clearly wrong though, as they’re falling down in a completely wrong position, very different from what Tony and his instructor had done, plummeting towards the ground. The air hitches in Tony’s throat and his heart falls down to his stomach. His hand automatically slaps against his chest, and instead of connecting with the nano housing unit, his hand only meets fabric on top of the scarred surface of his chest.

“Fuck.” He had come without the nanoparticles. The realization clenches his heart in a terrifying grip. His kid… Oh god- he has to- oh God. Fuck, he shouldn’t have listened to the kid. He doesn’t know what to do. Frantically he looks around and settles his eyes on the nearest man, getting into his face.

“Hey! What the hell is going on?” He doesn’t care that his voice shakes, he doesn’t even care that everyone there can clearly see that he's scared out of his mind. The man only glances at him before turning his gaze back to the blue sky. It’s painfully obvious that the man is doing his best to act calm around the billionaire. It does nothing to ease the panic that’s clouding Tony’s brain. “I’m not sure, Mr. Stark. It looks like something might be wrong with the drogue chute.”

He frowns. “What, what does that mean?”

The man doesn’t answer his question but places a placating hand on his shoulder. Tony wants to push it off. “Hold on, sir.” The man says and leaves him to go talk to the man a few feet away from them.

“No, you hold on-” it falls on deaf ears when there’s a unified gasp from nearly everyone around him. He spins around to look back to the sky and heaves out a breath of relief. Peter and the man have deployed a parachute and are now approaching the ground in what Tony thinks looks like normal manner. He may have not done this before but even he knows that a parachute means not being in an acute danger of dying.

Or thought he knew, because suddenly the people around him go even more frantic than before and Tony’s heart skips another beat. He hears the word “ambulance” and his heart all but stops. “What…” he breathes when he sees one of the men lifting a phone to his ear. He spins around to find someone, anyone available to tell him what is happening but everyone’s busy discussing the situation with each other.

Tony finally runs out of patience.

“Hey!” he yells with the deepest, loudest voice he can manage and is satisfied when the employees of the place stop buzzing around like damn bees. “Somebody better tell me what the hell is going on before I sue this place six ways to Sunday and you ragtag gang of damn adrenaline junkies never see the inside of another plane ever again!”

The silence hangs heavy around them for a moment until the man Tony had jumped with steps forward. “They deployed the emergency chute. You can tell by the solid color.” he explains calmly, like talking to a frightened animal and points to Peter and the man where they’re floating down with a bright orange colored chute. “That means something’s wrong with the original parachute. Now, according to protocol we have to alert the emergency services and get an ambulance here, just to be sure.”

Tony doesn’t think he’s breathing. Emergency chute? An ambulance?

His arm tingles uncomfortably and in that moment he’s sure he’s actually going to go into a cardiac arrest. Tony hadn’t prepared for this. Yes, technically he knew that there was always the possibility of something going wrong, but statistics always applied to other people. The statistics were there to assure people that these mishaps only happened to a very, very small portion of people and that there was really nothing to fear.

“Right now they seem okay. Don’t worry, sir, Dave’s gonna get your boy down safe and sound.”

That is what bothers him the most. The kid could be dying for all he knows and he’s helpless to do anything. He has to trust his entire world in the hands of a ‘Dave’ he doesn’t even know. Tony hasn’t felt so utterly useless in a long time.

-------------

"Peter!"

Peter numbly lifts his head to see Mr. Stark sprinting towards him with what looks like at least ten people. His mind clears a bit more and he manages to calm himself down enough to uncoordinatedly pet at the vest that he is still strapped in.

Tony kneels in front of him placing his hands to Peter's cheeks, while a few of the people that came with the billionaire start working on detaching Peter from the man. The tears spill over without his consent.

"Oh my God, kid. Lordy, you almost gave me a heart attack."

In his state Peter can only mumble incoherently. "M-my, my foot-"

Tony glances down at Peter’s ankle and Peter can see him grimace when the man takes in the blood seeping through the fabric of the suit. "Alright, Jesus, we'll, uh, we'll get you all fixed up, okay. I already called Cho."

Behind him he can remotely feel the tandem instructor's body leaving his back and he very nearly slumps down but he hears Tony’s quiet ‘whoa’ and feels the man’s hands catch his shoulders, keeping him upright.

He hisses when he feels someone move his leg to assess the damage. He quickly looks away and settles his eyes on Tony again.

Peter moves his head in a shaky nod, blinking to get rid of the blur of tears in his eyes. Tony is looking at him with more fear in his deep dark irises than the last time Peter got stabbed, and it had been bad. He doesn’t like it when Tony looks at him like that. He doesn’t like it when Tony or May are so worried about him. The atmosphere suddenly feels too heavy and Peter needs to alleviate it somehow. He sniffs quietly, trying his best to form a believable smile. "Told you,” he mutters. “the adrenaline rush of your life."

So much is happening around them, but Peter can only focus on Tony and the stab of pain in his leg. Tony gapes at him like it’s the most ridiculous thing Peter has ever said. Very soon, though, he gets himself together and then gently brushes the wild ringlets of hair off of Peter's forehead.

Tony’s hand is warm against Peter’s chilled skin. "And I told you, little hooligan, that I've had enough adrenaline as it is."

Peter chuckles and smiles sheepishly, when the man lowers his hand to cup his cheek again.

"You scared the devil out of me, Pete,” Tony states suddenly and Peter’s stomach clenches in guilt. “I'm never letting you go skydiving again, at least not without my suit. And even then I need a year, at least, to recover from this."

Peter lowers his chin to hide the relieved expression on his face. After all, this had been his idea. "I think I'm okay with that."

The sound of tires on gravel breaks the moment and Peter looks up to see an ambulance approaching them. He almost groans in embarrassment. He doesn't want to get on the bus and he doesn't want people to make a big deal out of it. He nuzzles into Tony's hand and looks up through his lashes in hopes that Tony can read his mind.

He can apparently, but it doesn't get Peter what he wants. Tony only glares at him playfully and taps the side of Peter's head disapprovingly with the hand that rests against his cheek.

"You put those peepers away. The puppy dog eyes don't work when I'm scared for your life."

Tony points at his own hair where Peter can see hints of grey. "See this? This is your fault, now you face the consequences."

Peter smirks, assured now by the realization that things we’re most likely going to be okay. "It's my fault, that you're... old?"

Tony barks out a laugh and nudges Peter's shoulder. "You little shit! It's only broccoli for you for the next month."

"Jokes on you, I like broccoli."

"Yeah, cause you're a menace."

"Am not! You like me!"

"Don't know where you got that idea from."

"I'm your favorite intern."

"Intern? Doesn't ring a bell."

"What?" He laughs. "You know me!"

"Peter? Peter who? Never heard of him."

Peter cackles so loud his whole body shakes, not even caring that the action jolts his leg uncomfortably, and Tony joins him. They giggle like children until the ambulance reaches them and Tony wipes the remnants of tears off of Peter's cheeks.

"Alright,” his voice is almost a soft whisper. “let's get you to Cho." Then a smirk grazes his lips and he points at Peter.

"It's Peter, right?"

Peter shoves Tony's shoulder with a childlike giggle. "Stop."

Tony chuckles and places a hand on top of Peter's curls. He grins at him and adds softly. "You'll be okay." Peter smiles back at him, all bright eyed and trusting, just like he always is.

Tony will make sure of it.

A mischievous grin tugs at Peter’s lips again. "So,” he stretches the word. “who's gonna tell May?"

The smile on Tony's face falls.

"Shit."

#peter parker #tony stark #protective tony stark #hurt peter parker #worried tony stark #my ao3 #fic #tony stark acting as peter parkers parental figure #peter parker whump

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nooneactuallyasked · 3 years

Text

Diner Gal - Reggie x Reader Part 9

Requested: It’s a series, there are no requests here!

Word count: 1,877

Warnings: Cursing

Summary: Julie and the Phantoms ( + Flynn ) go to a musical diner/café/restaurant for inspiration and hopefully a future gig but they end up meeting a very special waitress.

Note: We love Reggie moments- Love our himbo the most! Told you I’d do it today lol

Oop, just remembered I forgot the taglist for the last part so Imma add that in a sec lol

---

Part 1 here Part 2 here Part 3 here Part 4 here

Part 5 here Part 6 here Part 6.5 here Part 7 here

Part 8 here

---

Y/N sat on a table, writing out the setlist for the next day, another job Cal had left for her to do and it pissed her off to no end. She understood having a bad day, sure it sucked but don’t take it out on your employees! She let out a breath she didn’t realise she had been holding and decided that as long as she got paid properly she would put up with pretty much anything.

She still needed to practice her duet with one of the guys, Josh, but of course, he couldn’t be here, just her luck. Obviously, she didn’t blame him, things happened, but everything seemed to be going wonky lately and all Y/N was some stability in her life, Cal was a different person all of a sudden, she more work than she could handle and top it all off she was developing feelings for a ghost. Scratch that, she has feelings for a ghost that she could touch but no one else could see and it honestly kind of scared her.

Y/N huffed, placing her notebook next to her before hopping off the table, it was clear to see that she wouldn’t get anything done any time soon.

“Hey, Diner Gal! It’s your favourite phantom, me!” Y/N jumped a bit before turning around, an exasperated smile on her face, “Hello, Leather Boy, nice seeing you again.” Reggie grinned, he loved hearing her voice, it comforted him and made him feel wanted, “So, what are we doing?” Y/N sighed, turning back to her notebook, “I’m stressing over a setlist and a duet I’m supposed to be practising for, but I don’t expect you to do the same.” Y/N grinned at him over her shoulder. A worried puppy expression clouded over Reggie’s face, then he thought of an idea that brought a bright smile onto his face, “How about I help you practice? I mean, I could sing the other part, girl or guy. I’ve been told I have an excellent Sandy impression, I’m especially good at Summer Lovin’ in case you were wondering.” He winked at her causing her to burst into laughter, a warm smile lighting up her face.

“Um, sure, you heard and Dear Evan Hansen?”

“Have I? Julie showed 1 song to Alex and he wouldn’t shut up about it, he kept making Julie play us those songs over and over and over again, I think I know literally every line by now. Alex swears that he is Evan but instead of Connor it’s Zoe who’s dead and that him and Connor are happily married with a puppy.” Reggie widened his eyes to emphasize his point, Y/N snickered, “What a terrible fate you’ve been succumbed to.” Reggie rolled his eyes, secretly admiring how carefree the girl before him looked, “I’m serious! My ears can recognize any song from 3 miles away!”

“Okay, so, do you know Only Us?” Reggie nodded, he knew that one especially well, not just because of Alex but because it was his personal favourite, it’s how he always imagined love would feel like, carefree, a little awkward but completely accepting and unconditional. It wasn’t something he had experienced very much of and certainly not in the way the song presented it but he hoped maybe one day he could experience it exactly how the song said, with Y/N. “Yeah, I do. Is that the song?”

“Yep. I’ll just put the backing on, thanks for this.” Y/N smiled before making her way towards the counter where the kept the tech stuff. Soon the familiar melody drifted out of the speakers in the room and Y/N made her way back to Reggie.

I don't need you to sell me on reasons to want you

I don't need you to search for the proof that I should

You don't have to convince me

You don't have to be scared you're not enough

'Cause what we've got going is good

Y/N was looking right into Reggie’s eyes and it honestly made his heart skip a good thousand beats, he felt like she singing directly to him, like he was the only person that mattered. She made him feel alive.

I don't need more reminders of all that's been broken

I don't need you to fix what I'd rather forget

Clear the slate and start over

Try to quiet the noises in your head

We can't compete with all that

She moved closer to him, raising a hand to push away a strand of hair from his eyes, a soft smile forming on both of their faces. She stepped back, wringing her hands in front of her.

So what if it's us?

What if it's us

And only us

And what came before won't count anymore or matter?

Can we try that?

She took his hand and raised it up to meet her own before intertwining their fingers, she smiled down at them before meeting his eyes, the awe in them shining through causing her to smile bashfully and look back down.

What if it's you

And what if it's me

And what if that's all that we need it to be

And the rest of the world falls away?

What do you say?

Reggie unlinked their fingers and poofed onto a nearby table causing Y/N to snicker as her nearly kicked a ketchup bottle.

I never thought there'd be someone like you who would want me

Well...

Y/N looked away, feeling more than slightly flustered, why was a song so much better at deciphering her feelings than her own mind!

So I give you ten thousand reasons to not let me go

But if you really see me

If you like me for me and nothing else

Well, that's all that I've wanted for longer than you could possibly know

Reggie poofed back down and held both of her hands, looking into her eyes. It felt like they were promising to be with each other forever, no matter what, just like in the song.

So it can be us

It can be us

And only us

And what came before won't count anymore or matter

We can try that

He pulled her into a hug, singing into her ear, she’d never been serenaded before and this was probably the closest she’d ever come to a real experience but Y/N swore that no one would ever understand how she felt. It was perfect, even though it was all just practice for a duet she was doing with some else.

It's not so impossible

Nobody else but the two of us here

'Cause you're saying it's possible

We can just watch the whole world disappear

'Til you're the only one

I still know how to see

Y/N sat on a nearby table, Reggie standing in front of her holding her hands tightly, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

It's just you and me

It'll be us

Heat pooled in both of their cheeks, this moment was special, no matter what happened after they both knew this had connected them. Y/N brought a hand up to his cheek and brushed her thumb over it, delicately as if it were a petal.

And only us

And what came before won't count anymore

Y/N got off of the table, letting go of Reggie’s hands causing him to feel slightly disappointed, he enjoyed the warmth that radiated from her like she was the sun. She was the sun that brought light to his world. She belted out the note and Reggie just stared in awe.

We can try that

You and me

That's all that we need it to be

And the rest of the world falls away

She went back over to him, once again intertwining their fingers before Reggie looped his arms around her waist and she wrapped her around his neck.

The world falls away

And it's only us

They stared at each other for a few more seconds before Y/N buried her head into his neck and Reggie squeezed her tighter. He was afraid, what if this didn’t work? What if they turned into his parents? But then again, what if they clicked and everything was perfect. That was a risk he wasn’t sure he could take but he was starting to come to the conclusion that it might be worth it.

Neither of them knew how long they stayed like that but eventually, Y/N moved away, “So, uh, I should get back to work, you know, things to do and, uh, people to please.” She chuckled awkwardly, how do you follow that up with casual conversation? “Oh, yeah, Julie and the guys are probably wondering where I am.”

“Right.”

“So, bye.” It came out more unsure and more of a question than Y/N had hoped it would but Reggie didn’t seem to notice, “Yeah, um, bye.” She stepped back and sent him a small wave and smile which he returned before poofing out.

“Well, wasn’t that just sickeningly sweet, I do so love it when romantic drama is added to the mix.” Y/N whipped around and was met with the same guy in purple she had seen just the day before. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” The man mockingly gasped, “How rude of me, the name’s Caleb, I’m a very special…friend of Cal’s” Y/N raised a brow in disbelief, “Oh really? How do you know him?” Caleb rolled his eyes, “Cal, are we friends?” Y/N frowned before spotting Cal walk out of the shadows, what the fuck was happening and why was it kinda terrifying. “Yes, we are.”

“Cal, what the fuck is up with you?” But Cal didn’t answer, he just stared, he stared into nothing, as if anything and everything didn’t exist and he was the only one there. She glared at this Caleb guy, “What did you do to him?” Caleb smirked and chuckled? Deep, scary laughed? Whatever it was it made Y/N’s skin crawl, no one should laugh like that and not get thrown into a bin. “I just gave Cal a little ultimatum and he chose well, so now I have a little, how do I put this, control over him.”

“Now I have an ultimatum for you too, you see, I’ve been giving you a gift, a present shall we say, but everything comes with a cost and so now I’ve come to collect.” Y/N shook her head in confusion, “What’re you talking about? What gift and what price?” Caleb did another weird chuckles thing that made Y/N roll her eyes. “Sweetheart, how do you think you can see those boys? Why have you never seen any other ghosts beforehand?” Y/N stuttered, it made sense but it still kinda hurt. “What’s your price?” Caleb smirk, “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear, and it’s simple really, I want the boys. And you’re gonna help me get them.”

That was not what Y/N expected, “What happens if I don’t?” Caleb’s expression darkened, “Well, you’ll have to get used to a life without your precious ‘Leather Boy’” He pulled a face at the nickname whilst Y/N stood there frozen in shock.

Well shit.

---

Taglist:

@hereforthejatp

@slutforjjmaybank @morganayennefertyrell

@dxestars @dcnerd98

@ultraworthlessbitch @revolutionary-werewolf-ghosts

@underc0vercryptid-reads @miisacore

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

Text

You Set My Heart Ablaze (22/25)

Warnings: I don't know if this is one but this chapter starts with a dream sequence and Geralt gets a bit disorientated?

_______________

Geralt’s alarm startled him to consciousness, which was unusual. He was usually dozing half awake in the few minutes before the damned thing started beeping at him. This morning he was dead asleep.

It was only when he was standing up and brushing his teeth that he heard a grumble from his bedroom. He scowled at his reflection in the mirror, and tried to wipe it with his flannel. The glass was all steamed up. He looked down at his body and remembered he’d already showered. The steam was from the shower. He finished up with his teeth and went to investigate the noise from his bedroom, running a towel through his hair.

He chuckled when he saw the mess of his bedsheet.

Jaskier.

The teacher was sprawled out like starfish across the whole bed, the sheets barely covering his naked body.

Of course the noise was Jaskier. He always grumbled when Geralt left the bed whilst the he was still asleep. Geralt sat down on the edge of the bed and brushed Jaskier’s fringe from his eyes and leant down to kiss his hair.

Jaskier’s vibrant eyes flashed open, glowing in the dimly lit room. “Geralt?”

“Morning, Jask.” Geralt swatted Jaskier’s bare ass and got up to get dressed.

“Oi, at least kiss me properly!” Jaskier rolled onto his side and pouted at Geralt, his eyes watching every movement as Geralt pulled on his uniform.

Geralt rolled his eyes and stalked across the room, he was on top of Jaskier is less than a heart beat, pressing their lips together. Jaskier moaned underneath him and snaked his arms around Geralt’s neck, pulling them closer. Geralt moved to kiss and suck at Jaskier’s neck before jumping up with a start.

“Shit, sorry,” he growled.

Jaskier stared up at him, red faced and wide-eyed, looking utterly debauched. “Whatever for, dear heart?” He laughed.

His laughter was like music chiming, echoing around the room.

Geralt frowned. “You can’t go to school with hickeys.”

Jaskier sat up and cupped his cheek. “But, dear heart, it’s summer.”

Geralt shook his head. “No it’s not. Fuck, Jask what are you doing here? Philippa?”

“It’s summer, we’re free, Geralt.” Jaskier insisted. His voice was almost hypnotic and Geralt so wanted to believe him.

“No. I have to take Ciri to school. You can’t be here, Jask.” Geralt pressed his back against the wall and covered his ears.

Jaskier’s eyes were spilling over with tears. “G-Geralt?”

Geralt shook his head. “You’ll lose your job, Jaskier. Ciri, I can’t do that to Ciri.”

Jaskier tears were now pouring down his face. Geralt realised with a start that the floor was beginning to flood.

“Fuck!” He ran to the door to let the water out but it wouldn’t open.

“Geralt, don’t leave me!” Jaskier cried. “It’s summer, love.”

“No!” Geralt shouted.

“Geralt, please!”

“Dad!” Ciri called.

No. Ciri. She couldn’t be here. She couldn’t see.

“Dad!” Ciri screamed and Geralt gasped for breath as he sat up in bed.

The sun was shining through the curtains and Ciri was bouncing on the bed next to him, watching him with alert emerald green eyes.

She tilted her head. “Dad?”

Geralt groaned and pulled his daughter into a hug, she squealed but allowed her to be pulled forward. “Hey, cub.”

“Were you having a nightmare?” She mumbled against his chest.

Geralt grunted. “Yeah.”

She pulled back and stared back at him, her nose was all scrunched up and she was pouting. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Geralt shook his head. “Not this time, princess.”

Ciri narrowed her eyes at him and then leapt from the bed. “Fine, but you have to tell Roach! Deal?”

Geralt scowled. “Wait, what day is it?”

“Saturday!” Ciri announced proudly. “You promised we could go to see Roach together!”

Geralt wanted to believe her but his dream hadn’t quite left him yet. He pulled his phone from the charging cable and looked at the date. “Huh. Saturday,” he mused.

Ciri put her hands on her hips. “You didn’t believe me!”

Geralt tilted his head and smiled sheepishly at his daughter. “It was just the dream, I promise.”

“Like when I thought the car was going to eat you?” Ciri asked. “Even though that’s silly.”

Geralt nodded. “Yeah, the dream made it feel real though.”

“Yeah.” She sniffed and rubbed her nose. “I didn’t like that dream very much.”

Geralt stood and and pulled her into another hug. He kissed the top of her hair. It was ratty and desperately needed a brush. “Hmm. I didn’t like my dream very much either.”

“Are you ok?” She asked quietly.

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine, princess. I promise.”

“Hmm.” She mused.

Geralt almost laughed. She was started to sound like him. He wasn’t sure whether he should be proud of that or not, probably not. “Go get dressed then I’ll help brush your hair.” Geralt shooed her from his room gently.

She grinned brightly. “Can you braid it too?”

Geralt rolled his eyes but nodded. “If we have time, Roach will be waiting for us.”

“Thanks, Dad!” Ciri wrapped her arms around his waist in a tight hug and then flew from the room.

He sighed and ran his hands through his own hair. He needed coffee, and fast. The echoes of his nightmare were haunting him. Jaskier’s tears as Geralt tore away from him, the overwhelming dread in his heart as he’d realised Ciri was going to discover them, the feeling that everything was crumbling around him.

“Fuck!”

They had a plan. He knew they had a plan. They were waiting until the summer holidays and then they would tell Ciri they were friends, after a couple of weeks they would broach the subject of their relationship. If Jaskier’s school wouldn’t allow it then he was going to consider becoming a musician full-time, or teaching music to kids who wanted to learn one of the many instruments that Jaskier had in his collection.

Geralt hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

The guilt that he would have pulled Jaskier from his job, his career, something that he was good at and loved. He wasn’t sure he could cope with that. He didn’t want to be the reason that the man he loved lost everything.

He got dressed quickly and helped Ciri with her hair. He wasn’t very good at braiding hair yet but he was learning and he found the motion relaxing. Ciri seemed to agree, it was one of the few times she sat still. Geralt made them pancakes for breakfast. He hadn’t meant to but he had the ingredients out from the cupboard before he’d even realised. Ciri was absolutely delighted at the new addition of chocolate chips to the mix. Geralt grumbled about it being a treat because he wasn’t often free on the weekends to spend much time with her. He sneakily took a picture of the pancakes before Ciri got her little hands on them and sent it to Jaskier as Ciri swiped her plate away.

G— Introducing Ciri to chocolate pancakes.

Jaskier didn’t respond immediately which meant that he was either composing or still asleep, judging by the time it was the latter.

Geralt smiled fondly at his phone and tucked it back into his pocket.

“Why are you smiling?” Ciri asked around a mouthful of pancakes.

Geralt scowled. “I’m not.”

“Well, you’re not now!” She pouted. “But you were! You were all…” She smiled soppily with wide puppy eyes.

Geralt grunted.

“Dad!” She whined.

“Eat your pancakes,” he muttered.

“Are you in love?” Ciri asked sweetly.

Geralt growled. “No.”

“Yes you are!” She sang. “You’re acting like they do in films!”

“Just eat your breakfast.”

“Is this why you won’t tell me about your nightmare?” She persisted.

“No.”

“Who is it?” She asked with twinkling eyes.

“No one.”

Ciri gasped and pancakes crumbs flew all over the table. “Is it Mr Jaskier!?” She shrieked.

Geralt felt his heart stop in his chest for a few beats. “What? No.”

“It is, isn’t it? I’m right. I know I’m right,” she giggled.

“Cirilla,” he growled and stabbed his own pancakes too forcefully with his fork. “I am not in love, drop it.”

She pouted as they finished breakfast in awkward silence. The silence followed them to the car and all the way to the stables. Ciri flew from the old truck before he could even undo his seatbelt properly.

“Ciri!” He called after the blur of ashen hair but she wasn’t listening. “Fuck.”

His phone chimed as he was walking over to the stables, a message from Jaskier. He opened the message and almost dropped his phone in the mud.

Jaskier had sent him a photograph in response. He’d obviously just woken up, his hair was tousled and he had pillow marks on his cheeks. His thick-rimmed glasses were wonky on his nose… and he was wearing very little clothing.

J — They look delicious darling. I wish I was there. xxx

Geralt took a deep breath before typing out a response.

G — Not long now.

Jaskier would probably pout over Geralt’s lack of acknowledgment in regards to the photo but he couldn’t find the words, and he had to keep his feelings in check around his daughter. She’d already been far too perceptive this morning, the child was too smart for her own good sometimes.

His phone rang in his hands.

Geralt rolled his eyes and answered as he watched Ciri coo at Roach from the yard. She knew not to enter the mare’s stall without Geralt so he wasn’t too worried.

“Do you know how many selfies it took to get that right, Geralt?” Jaskier snapped in lieu of a greeting.

Geralt chuckled. “You look good.”

“Good?! Good. Bullshit, I look fucking amazing, Geralt,” Jaskier whined.

“Hmm,” Geralt agreed. “I’m with Ciri at the stables.”

“Oooooh. Right. But you did like my picture?” He asked and Geralt could hear the pout in his voice.

“You know I did,” Geralt scoffed fondly.

“Still nice to hear,” Jaskier mumbled.

Geralt glanced over at Ciri, she was completely absorbed in her conversation with Roach. He smiled as he watched them for a few seconds. He spoke quietly so Ciri wouldn’t hear him. “You look incredible, Jask, and if I were there then you wouldn’t be leaving your bed for the rest of the day. I wouldn’t be able to resist you and I wouldn’t have to. You’re mine.” He let a slight growl into his voice at the end, knowing that it never failed to make Jaskier lose his composure.

Sure enough, Jaskier cursed under his breath. “Fuck, Geralt,” he whined pitifully, which only made Geralt laugh.

“Maybe later. I have to go.”

“Spoilsport.” Jaskier mumbled.

“I’ll send you pictures of Roach.” He promised.

Jaskier muttered something about wanting pictures of something else. “Fine. I love you, dearest.”

“You too, Jask.”

“Have fun with Roach and Ciri.”

“I will.” Geralt knew he should hang up the phone but after his nightmare he couldn’t quite bear to be the one to let go. Not when the memory of Jaskier begging him not to leave was so fresh in his mind.

“Are you making me hang up, Geralt Rivia?” Jaskier laughed.

“Hmm. Yes.” Geralt agreed.

“Oh fine. Farewell, my love.” Jaskier cooed before the line went dead.

He sighed and went over to join Ciri with Roach.

Ciri was scowling as she talked to his old mare. “Oh look who has finally decided to join us.” She muttered with far too much sass for any normal seven year old.

“Ciri,” he groaned.

“Sorry? Did you hear something?” Ciri asked Roach.

Geralt sighed and scratched Roach behind the ear. “I’m sorry, Ciri.”

She huffed but leant into his side. “What for?”

“For getting angry with you. It wasn’t your fault.” He pulled her into a side hug.

“I was only asking questions,” she grumbled. “Mr Jaskier says it’s good to ask questions because otherwise we’ll never learn.”

Geralt closed his eyes and sighed. “He’s right.”

“Then why did you yell at me?” She whined.

Geralt crouched down next to her and took her hands in his. “I’m sorry, princess. I was angry because I didn’t want to answer your questions.”

She pouted. “S’not my fault.”

Geralt tilted his head. “No, I shouldn’t have yelled but sometimes being a parent is hard. I’m going to make mistakes, cub. Can you try and forgive me when I do?”

She stuck her tongue out as she thought about it and then nodded. “Don’t call me Cirilla.” She stated.

“I won’t.” He agreed and pulled her into a hug. “Shall we get Roach ready to ride?”

“Can I ride without you holding the reins?”

He chuckled. “We’ll see.”

“Pleeeeease.” She pulled back to give him wide puppy eyes.

Geralt shook his head. “No promises, princess.”

In the end he let Ciri take the reins for a few laps of the training school but he had to put Roach back on a leading rein when Ciri decided it was a good idea to kick the horse into a canter. Ciri sulked but Geralt ignored it. Her safety came first, even if she didn’t believe him. After they’d warmed up Geralt jumped up into the saddle and sat Ciri in front of him. They rode at a casual amble through the woods surrounding the stables until they reached a clearing. It was a well kept secret, one that Geralt guarded closely. It was a beautiful spot, with soft grass and wild flowers scattered across the ground. The way the sun filtered through the trees gave the clearing a magical feel. Ciri firmly believed that it belonged to the fairies and every time they visited she made Geralt leave some of his shiniest small change behind as a thank you for letting them stay.

They ate the sandwiches Geralt had brought with them and Ciri showed him how to make a chain of flowers. She made a flower crown for both of them out of buttercups. Geralt, in a rare moment of sentimentality, insisted they get a photograph of both of them. Ciri stuck her tongue out at camera and Geralt was frowning as he tried to concentrate on holding the camera still but the result was pretty good. He saved the photo as his lock screen when Ciri wasn’t looking and sent the photograph to Jaskier.

G — Looks like you could join us after all.

His phone buzzed almost immediately.

J — Geralt! Are those buttercups in your hair?! <3 <3 <3 xxx

Geralt chuckled.

G — Ciri made them.

J — I love them!! xxx

— not as much as I love you though, dear heart. xxx

“Who are you texting?” Ciri asked as she peered over his shoulder. “Who’s Dear Heart?”

Geralt suddenly felt incredibly grateful that he’d changed Jaskier’s name in his phone.

“Umm.”

“Dad! You are in love!!” Ciri gasped. “You lied to me!”

“Umm…” He fumbled for an excuse.

“When can I meet her?” Ciri stared up at him with wide eyes.

“Him.” Geralt corrected gently.

“Dad!!” Ciri screamed and he winced as the sound pierced the air. Even Roach looked up from where she was grazing by the trees.

“Not yet.” Geralt admitted. “Maybe in the holidays.”

“But Dad!” She whined.

“Please, Ciri.” Geralt sighed. “When I’m sure he’ll be around for a while you can meet him. I, I don’t want you to get your hopes up, alright?”

Ciri glared at him. “You lied to me.”

He grunted. How was it that Ciri was so often parenting him?

Fuck. He was not good at this.

“Yeah.” He admitted. “Sorry.”

“I forgive you.” She announced proudly. “But only if we can have chocolate pancakes for breakfast again tomorrow!”

Geralt smirked, that he could get behind. “Deal.” He shook her hand. “You drive a hard bargain, little lion cub.”

She put a hand on her hip and tilted her head. “I learnt from the best.”

“Yennefer?”

“Yup!” She giggled. “You should probably tell your boyfriend that you love him too. Otherwise he’ll be sad.”

“I will, princess.” He shook his head and leant back on the grass.

G — I love you too.

He found it difficult to say but Jaskier needed words. He thrived off words, whereas Geralt found it easier to express his feelings through actions. Perhaps that was why he’d started buying coffee for Jaskier all those months ago, but actions were hard when they could only really talk via text or phone calls.

He couldn’t wait until he could actually see Jaskier in person again.

He just hoped their relationship wouldn’t lose its thrill when it was less than forbidden. He had never been very good at long term relationships before, but with Ciri he couldn’t afford to keep fucking up relationships. It wasn’t fair on her. She’d lost too much, she didn’t need to keep losing parental figures because of his own inability to keep those he loved.

G — Ciri knows I have a boyfriend.

— She doesn’t know who.

Jaskier began typing immediately and Geralt scoffed. It was like the teacher had his phone glued to his hands during the weekend.

J — Is she ok with it?

— Does she secretly hope it’s me?

— No wait don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.

— I love you more xxx

— Can I have a buttercup chain too? I feel left out.

— Fuck. I miss you. :(

Geralt sighed as the flurry of texts from Jaskier came through in one go. He tucked his phone into his pocket. He would ring the teacher later before bed. Now was Ciri time. He patted the grass next to him and Ciri curled up into his side. She talked easily about her ukulele lessons, how Priscilla had even shown her a few chords on her smaller sized guitar. Geralt would have to look up how much the guitars cost. He was hoping he could get a full sized one that she would grow into, at the very least she would have her ukulele until her hands were big enough for the new guitar.

Maybe Jaskier would have a smaller one in his collection that Ciri could borrow over summer.

He was happy that she was enjoying her lessons. He wondered whether he could tuck her ukulele onto Roach’s saddle next time they were able to come out with her together. He could just imagine the magical clearing filled with music. His traitorous mind took the daydream one stage further with a second horse, probably a grey horse. Jaskier seemed the type to have a grey horse, and he’d probably call it white no matter how many times Geralt told him that they were called grey. Jaskier would bring his guitar along too, maybe even the lute he was so fond of. Geralt would watch him and Ciri playing together in the grassy clearing that Geralt thought of as his own.

He swallowed and shook the daydream from his head. It was too soon to be thinking about such domesticity. He blamed having a daughter for that, dating with kids was certainly a whole new experience. There was more responsibility much sooner than if he were just to date around, but at least Jaskier already knew about Ciri. It wouldn’t be a horrible shock. Yennefer had made him watch enough of those dating shows on TV, he knew how it went if you didn’t tell your partner early on. No one wanted the baggage of a kid in the equation.

He pulled gently on the band securing Ciri’s braid and untangled the strands of hair. She whined but he just hummed and brushed through her hair with his fingers.

“I’ll redo it, I promise,” he muttered.

“With flowers!” She insisted.

Geralt stared around the clearing. There were still plenty of buttercups in the field but he had no idea how to weave them into hair. “You have the flower crown?” He tried to bargain.

Ciri huffed and pouted. “But I want flowers!”

Geralt shrugged. “I don’t know how.”

“There are videos,” Ciri insisted.

“Next time.”

“Promise?” Ciri flashed him a bright smile, her emerald eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

“Yeah.”

The young girl flung her arms around his neck. “Thank you!”

They stayed in the clearing until the sun began to set. The temperature dropped considerably, even in the summer heat, and Ciri began to shiver slightly, her eyes were beginning to droop. Geralt lifted her up onto Roach and hopped up behind her. It was a short ride back to the stable at a light canter through the trees. Once they had gotten Roach settled at the stables Geralt carried Ciri back to his old truck. She was practically asleep on his shoulder as he bundled her into the car. He watched her for a few moments in the stillness of the night.

He’d never asked for parenthood.

He had even known it was something he’d wanted in life, but Ciri had him completely wrapped around her little finger and for the first time in years he had something beyond work that he really truly loved, completely and unconditionally.

It was like his life was finally starting to make sense. _____

Next - Art for this Chapter

#the witcher #you set my heart ablaze #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #i totally forgot to post this to tumblr #new chapter up later #wolfie's witcher writing

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fearfulkittenwrites · 4 years

Text

Bedridden - Co-written with @3ambird

Summary:Tim has been stuck in bed for over a month and it’s driving him up the wall, he feels like the family is pushing him away.

...All he wanted was a coffee.

Word count: 2833

Link for it on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26205868

Notes: Hey! This work was created by both me and @3ambird. They did an amazing job, and this work wouldn’t even exist if it wasn’t for them giving me the idea for it!! Make sure to give them all the love they deserve!! I hope you enjoy this <3

It’s been a little over a month. One whole month of laying in bed, not being able to do anything by himself other than change the channels on TV. Tim felt awful, he felt powerless. His broken leg was annoying, and his broken ribs made breathing difficult, not to mention the pneumonia he’d only just recovered from. Sleeping wasn’t easy either, seeing as he had to be kept in an upright position at all times so that the bones would heal properly. He had gotten a brand new scar on his neck, and looking at that in the mirror was still hard. But that wasn’t even the worst of it.

The worst part, the real humiliating part, was needing help for every little thing. He hated not being able to walk properly, hated not being able to do what he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it, by himself.

He hated having to ask for help to go to the bathroom.

And above all, he hated needing help to bathe.

It was humiliating, having someone standing next to him and helping him clean himself, rubbing the parts he couldn’t reach because his ribs wouldn’t let him twist that way. He felt vulnerable and exposed. He thanked the heavens that Dick was so willing to help, because the few times Alfred had to cover for his older brother had been really awkward. And that’s not even mentioning that one time with Bruce.

And then there’s the pity. Everyone’s been giving him those ”understanding” looks, those soft eyes, trying not to share details from their cases, not mentioning their vigilante personas around him, turning off the news whenever he’s around, asking if he needs anything, all the time... Alfred has been cooking his favorite meals every other day, and even Damian was being nice to him. Damian, the demonspawn who would always criticize his every single move was being nice.

That was what really scared the crap out of him, it made him feel like he might never be able to be Red Robin ever again. It was as if they all knew it too, wanting to make him comfortable with being pushed away from that part of their lives, as if they were easing him back into being a civilian.

Tim sighs, wincing at the pain that spreads through his chest, and rubbing his temples in an attempt to ease his constant headache. It’s due time for him to try and do something by himself.

Slowly, he pushes himself out of bed, ignoring the pain in his ribs and the banging inside his cranium, reaching for the pair of crutches resting against the wall. He had never used them, but it couldn’t be so hard, right? He had taught himself how to jump between rooftops so he could take photos of Batman and Robin when he was just a little kid, so this should be easy enough. He manages to reach his door, having only a little trouble opening it. Wonky and slow, Tim eventually makes it to the edge of the marble staircase.

“Alright.” He murmurs to himself, looking down at the huge amount of steps in front of him “You’ve got this. You can do it. Nothing stands between Tim and a hot cup of coffee.”

His trip down the stairs takes a lot of effort and he has to take breaks every few steps, waiting for the pain to diminish so he could keep going. He’s sweating from the effort, meaning that he’d probably need a shower sooner than he wanted to, but he couldn’t take off his hoodie, afraid of losing his balance and falling down the stairs.

“Okay, five more steps Tim.” He tries to sound confident “C’mon, five more steps.”

First the crutches. Then his feet.

One step.

Once again the crutches, and then his feet.

Two steps.

The crutches. His feet.

Three steps.

The crutches slip and fall away. Tim slides down the two remaining steps, falling butt first into the ground. The impact makes pain shoot up to his broken ribs, making him cry out from the pain, tears filling his eyes and quickly running down his cheeks, the cry morphing into sobs as he holds the side of his body.

Tim hears someone coming towards him, two pairs of rushed footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Tim?” Dick calls, worried “What are you doing out of bed? What happened, are you okay?”

“I-I fell.” Tim answers, hiding his face “I-I lost my balance and... and I fell... Fuck, it hurts so much, Dick.” He cried.

“I know, I know. But I’m here now, it’s okay.” Dick answers, cupping his brother’s cheek “C’mon, let’s get you back upstairs to bed, okay?”

“N-no.” His words coming out shaky because of his stupid sobs. Tim tried again. “No, I was- I want- I just need to get t-to the kitchen, I need to-”

“Timmy, it’s okay.” Dick said, pushing some of Tim’s hair behind his ear “We’ll get you whatever you wanted.” Damian, the second pair of footsteps, nodded behind him.

“No! You don’t get it!” Tim yelled, tears still streaming down his face “I need to-! I can make it! I can! I-I know I can...!” Once again, Tim hides his face in his hands, sobbing loudly, pain pulsating down his sides.

“Tim…?” Dick has that worried puppy look on his face.

“I-I know that y-you don’t think I can g-go back to being vigilante again.” He sniffles “I- I just wa-wanted to show that I’m n-not in such b-bad shape. I-I’m not useless!”

“Oh, baby bird...” Dick said, running a hand through his brother’s hair “No one thinks that. I promise, Tim, no one thinks that you’re useless.”

“We have all had our injuries, Drake.” Damian said, crouching next to him.

“Yeah,” Dick smiles at him as he speaks “We all know that you’ll bounce back. You just need to rest.” Tim sobbs once again, burying his face on his older brother’s neck as the man kept gently running a hand through his hair “Let me help you back into your room, okay? And Dami can get whatever you wanted from the kitchen for you.” Dick whispered, and Tim nods, face still hidden.

“I- I don’t need anything.” He said, voice muffled. The words tickled Dick’s neck, and he had to put a lot of effort in not to jerk his shoulder up at the feeling “I just wanted to make myself some coffee, but... there’s no point now.”

“Would you like some tea instead?” Damian offered “Mother sends me special blends on occasion. Some of them have healing properties.” Tim looked at the kid, who was speaking in a tender tone “I could brew you some.”

“I...” Tim’s eyes filled with tears once again as he nodded “I’d like that. Thank you, Damian.”

“You’re welcome.” He answers, getting up, headed for the kitchen.

Tim starts crying again, tears falling heavily as his brother helped him to his room. Every sob, every sudden and shaky rise and fall of his chest shot a new wave of pain through his ribcage, which in turn worsened his yelps and groans. Dick tried calming him several times, to no avail. It had been so long since he cried, Tim was surprised that he still knows how.

“Thanks.” Tim mumbles, as Dick sets him down on the side of his bed.

“Don’t mention it, Timmy.” Dick smiles softly but genuinely.

“Y-you know...” He tries to steady his breathing, wanting to speak “Yo-you’re the only one... the only one w-who doesn’t smile at me like... like I’m on my deathbed.”

“What do you mean by that?” Dick sits down next to him, making the mattress dip towards him.

“I me-mean...” He rolls his eyes at his stutter, taking a deep, annoyed breath “I mean, everyone k-keeps looking at me like I’m...” He breathes again “Like I’ve got some kind of terminal disease. Like I’ll die tomorrow, or the day after that, or maybe in a week, but they look at me like I’m about to die. It sucks, and it hurts so fucking much.” He clenches his fist.

“They’re just trying to be nice Tim, no one thinks you’re going to die.” Dick said, a hand behind his brother’s head. Tim knows that if his ribs weren’t broken they’d be on his back, providing support, but right now, Dick is too afraid to even touch his torso. That makes him grind his teeth together.

“Take your hand off me.” He says through gritted teeth “Please.”

“Okay.” Dick whispers, pulling it back.

“Put it on my back.”

“Tim...”

“Put. It. On. My. Back.” He tries to sound serious and sober, but his voice cracks and the tears gather in his eyes.

“Tim, I don’t want to hurt you.” Dick says.

“That’s the problem!” He yells, wishing he could throw or break something “That’s the fucking problem, Dick! I can’t... I can’t live like this! I’m not... Some delicate thing, I’m not going to break! I’m not... I’m Red fucking Robin! a-and I... I can’t lose that.” He covers his face again, sobbing into his hands “It’s-... I can’t lose that... Please, Dick. I cant… I can’t lose it.”

He feels the mattress moving as Dick stands up, and for a moment Tim thinks that his brother is leaving him. Thinks that he will have to deal with his loss by himself. Instead, he feels his hands on his knees, rubbing circles on his exposed skin.

“Tim,” He starts, softly “Timmy, Look at me.” He does, peeking behind his fingers “Why are you afraid of losing Red Robin?”

“B-Because...” Tim wanted to say everything.

He wanted to tell Dick that the pity and the silence meant the bats were trying to ease him back into a normal, civilian life. That Alfred cooking his favorite meals all the time was clearly some kind of twisted consolation prize. That constantly needing help to perform even the most basic tasks showed everyone just how unfit he is for the mantle. That he felt humiliated for needing help whenever he had to take a goddamn piss, and that if that didn’t show just how unfit he was to be part of this family of vigilantes, then he wasn’t sure of what would.

But none of that came out. What came out instead, was a result of Tim’s sudden realization, after his racing thoughts eased their monologue.

“Because I’m weak.” More tears forced their way out as he admitted it “and you all finally saw it.”

“No.”

Tim’s breathing was shaky as he lowered his hands, revealing his face little by little, trembling chin.

“No.” Dick repeated, stronger this time, more determined. “Tim, you are so many things. Smart? Yes. Brave? Definitely. Loyal? 100%. Chaotic? Completely.” He smirked weakly, Tim chuckled just a little “But you’ve never been weak.”

“I’m not strong either.” He shot back, staring at the floor.

“And what makes you say that?”

“Just look at me!” He opens his arms “I’m pathetic! I can’t even use the bathroom by myself.” Dick had one eyebrow raised in a weird, skeptic and confused scowl. It annoyed him. “What?”

“So you think I’m weak?” He starts, Tim just frowns in confusion. “And you think that Jason’s weak? Steph and Cass? Oh, let’s not forget Babs, and Bruce? What about Duke and Damian, do they fit your description of weakness too?”

“What... What are you talking about?”

Dick huffed out a tiny laugh.

“Tim, you do realize that all of us, no exception, have been in the same situation before, right?” Tim stares at him, confused “Don’t you remember when I got my shit rocked so badly that I was in a coma for like, a week?”

“Nine days, actually.” Tim murmured “You scared the crap out of me.”

“Well, what about when Jason broke both of his legs after falling from that building? You do remember that, right?” Tim nodded slowly “And you do remember how he needed help to move around for two and a half months? And what about that time when Bruce was shot in the thigh and had to use a cane for three weeks?”

“Well, that’s not really comparable to-”

“You may think it isn’t because you weren’t seeing it all the time,” Dick cut him off “but I also had to help him to the toilet during the first week. And help him shower in the first few days.” Dick took a deep breath and let out a soft sigh. “Look, what I’m trying to say is; there isn’t a single masked hero out there who hasn’t been bedridden for a while, at least, not a single human one. And guess what you are, buddy?”

“Human?” Tim bit the inside of his cheek.

“yeah, human.” Dick nodded. “Baby bird, trust me,” He said, smiling at him again “You’re gonna fly again. Yeah, someone may have clipped your wings, but feathers grow back, I swear they do. No one thinks you’re dying, we’re trying to give you space and time to heal.”

“Yeah, well,” Tim sniffled, rubbing his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie “Maybe I don’t need that much space.”

Dick smiled, right side of his mouth raising as he huffed out a little laugh again.

“Noted.” he said with a smile. “Hey, do you need help out of that hoodie?” He asked “You’re sweaty.”

“Yeah,” Tim nodded “Yeah, I could use some help with that... please”

As Dick helped him out of the constrictive, overly hot jacket, Damian knocked on the door, not waiting for a response before opening it. He skillfully balanced the platter containing a mug of tea and some biscuits on one hand, setting it down on his brother’s nightstand.

“You know,” Tim said as Dick attempted to carefully fold the hoodie and Damian sat down on the floor, in front of him “You can still tease me if you want to. I’m not used to not being constantly criticized by you.”

“-tt-.” Damian rolls his eyes “How can I criticize you when you haven’t done anything at all in the past month?”

“Damian!” Dick whisper-yelled.

“Yeah, that’s what I was talking about.” Tim snickered, reaching for the mug. The warm tea was comforting, even if he was feeling a little hot, and the biscuits were perfectly made, surely by Alfred’s well versed hands “Do you guys want any?”

“No thank you.” Damian says.

“I’m fine.” Dick smiles at him, deciding that his effort to fold Tim’s hoodie was useless as he tossed into his laundry bin, too sweaty to be reused.

“Are you...” Damian paused, biting the inside of his cheek “Are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah.” Tim answers, tapping on his mug as Dick sits back down next to him “Dick gives great pep talks.”

“It’s a gift.” His older brother jokes, getting a small smile from both Tim and Damian.

They sit quietly as Tim finishes sipping his tea, but it’s not awkward or uncomfortable. It’s that rare kind of silence that Tim loves, the kind of silence that isn’t forced or demanding to be filled with empty words. It’s a silence that transmits tranquility and reassures him that his brother’s love for him hasn’t faltered these last months and will never fade, no matter what.

As he takes his final sip, Tim stares at the bottom of his mug.

“Hey, uh,” He whispers “I think that after my adventures I... I might need to shower.” He looks up at Dick, biting the inside of his lips “Can you... help me?”

“Of course I can.” Dick smiles, warm and big.

“I shall take these back to the kitchen then.” Damian stands up, takes the mug from Tim’s hand and the tray from his nightstand, then disappears into the hallway.

“I hope he’s not upset that I’m stealing you from him.” Tim says.

“What? No.” Dick frowns a little “I was just watching him do his homework, but I think he’d prefer doing that on his own. C’mon, let me help you to the bathroom.”

“Hey Dick? thanks.” Tim says as Dick helps him to his feet “I don’t think I‘ve been saying that enough.”

“Oh, please.” Dick dismissed him “It’s not like you have to thank me. I’m your older brother after all.”

“Yeah, I know, but... this isn’t really something you have to do.” Tim shrugs.

“What, did you think I’d just force you to get Alfred? Or - god forbid - Bruce?” Dick snorts “I’m not heartless. Besides, I was a Robin through my teenage years, I know how awkward this kind of thing can be.” Dick says as he helps Tim sit down in the bathroom.

“I guess.” Tim laughs a little “Still, you didn’t have to do this, but you are, so thank you. A million times, thank you.”

Dick kisses the top of his head.

“You’re adorable Timmy.” He smiles “And don’t mention it. I’m here for you. Always.”

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hozierfic · 5 years

Text

In the Arms of Morpheus.

Chapters: 1/1.

Rating: General.

Warnings: None.

Summary/Notes: Five stolen moments between AHB/Reader, inspired by all the sweet little concepts you lot post all about this place. The theme, in case it’s not obvious, is sleep. The Reader is gender unspecified.

He’s tired. It’s not new, and it’s not a surprise, but it feels different when he’s tired here, with you, then it does when it’s just his drowsy voice tumbling down the line or caught in a blur of pixels on the screen of your phone. Here, now, you can see the dark smudges bruising the skin under his eyes and feel his body sagging where he sits.

He’s more tactile when he’s sleepy. It’s lovely but strange. You’re both protective of this; of your togetherness. And so when you’re enveloped by curious eyes and not just pillows or swaying trees, you tend towards reserve. But not today.

He’s been all soft touches and sweet nothings since his feet hit had hit home-ground yesterday, barely letting you out of arm’s reach — his warm hand splayed over your thigh while you drove from the airport to your home, his calloused thumb rubbing circles over the tangled web of blue on the underside of your wrist during dinner. The dance of his fingertips across the overheated skin of your back in bed, last night.

Today, he’s had you tethered to him by the hand — yours in his, or resting on your back, on your nape — but now, here, in this funny little tent surrounded by only vaguely familiar (to you) faces, he was finally letting you anchor him, instead of the other way around.

His eyes were drowsy, his drawl lazy. You were standing by his side, barely taller than him even though he was sitting down. His head kept lolling, nodding tiredly into the softness of you before he’d perk up again, pretending, as always, like nothing was the matter. Like he was fine. Like sleep was for the dead, and he needn’t bother with any.

Alas, he was but human. And a dozy one, at that. So when he finally gave in and rested his weary head against your middle, let himself lean into you, let his eyes fall shut and sleep take him over, you were glad. Not just because you loved the feel of him against you, his gentle weight pressed up against all the lines of you, but as well because there was something heart-stopping about the trust between you and his knowing that he could give in, and you’d protect him while he needed it, even if just for a moment.

Someone was whispering.

It was pitch dark and exactly the moment in the night when time seemed to cease to exist, but someone, somewhere in this room, was whispering.

“What are you doing?” You knew it was him. And you knew why he was huddled in the corner by the window, murmuring into his phone — it was because he didn’t want to wake you. He’d probably just woken from a dream, or with a start, mind whirring with some melody, and so, hence, his whispers in the dark.

“Sorry…”

“Come back here, to me.”

He did as you asked with a sorry little smile, padding back across the carpet and to the bed; to you. He slid back under the covers beside you, his arms curling around your waist and his face nestling into the mess of your hair.

You truly didn’t mind being woken up like this. You didn’t mind his racing mind or the restless nights when you spent more time laid side-by-side, wide awake and thinking than you did asleep. Or the nights when you gave up on sleep entirely and just danced together in the dark.

“Nearly done. Nearly.”

“And then, what?” You settled back into him, your back against his chest, your legs lined up, his lips tickling the shell of your ear.

“And then,” He pressed a quick kiss to the juncture of your jaw. “I’m yours. We won’t leave this bed for anything if I get my way.”

You laughed softly, and he echoed it back, his lips dancing across your skin, his nose tracing the line of your neck. You knew he still wasn’t sure how to be both, yet — how to give himself to you and his work at the same time. You knew because he said so, and as well because he held you differently on nights like these. Tighter, gently possessive. You often woke with the pink shadows of his fingers printed over your hips, from where he’d tucked his hands to keep you close and all wrapped up in him.

“Promise?” You mumbled mostly into the downy blanket tucked up around your chin, but he heard you. He always heard you.

“Promise.”

This was, you’d decided, the typification of a stolen moment.

You couldn’t remember exactly when you’d both agreed that this when you could both manage it was a good idea. But you’d scarcely ever been so glad that you had done as you were right now.

You were sat at the dining table at home, laptop opened, with a giant mug of coffee to hand. He was somewhere over oceans and time zones in a scene not too dissimilar; draped across the muss of linens atop his hotel room bed with glasses on and hair askew, his eyes closed and his own mug of caffeine long forgotten and abandoned on the nightstand.

He was on a day off, and you were on a Sunday. That’s how it had come to be in the first place; these virtual mornings together spent being quiet and doing nothing. It was a Sunday, and you were both feeling a little unmoored. “Let’s just do nothing together, for a little while.” That’s what he’d said. And so you did. And now when you could, you did it some more.

He’d never really fallen to sleep, though, before. Not like this. Not with his eyes drifting shut mid-sentence and his accent thickening to the point you could barely understand what it was he was mumbling to you. Not that you were complaining.

The whole point had been to find something that felt normal, in the way being at home together and doing nothing, did. And few things were so remarkably unremarkable as watching his tired body rest and recharge.

There was almost something greedy about it — about being able to just look at him without him knowing. Usually, when you gazed quietly at him, he filled in the stillness with wonderings about whether the space between you upset you. He was only like that when you were apart, and it was sweet, but sometimes you really did just want to take him in for a while; to update the map of Him you kept cradled in your mind.

And so now, this morning, you took full advantage of the quiet and this moment that felt so normal. You scribbled away at the crossword in the week-old paper you had on hand and watched him sleep, counted the rise and fall of his chest while you tried to come up with the right words, and then, with only two answers to go, you watched him wake, slowly, and realise where he was, where you were, and what he was doing.

“Jesus…” He fixed his wonky glasses and raked a hand through his hair. “How long have I been out, for?”

You just smiled at him, enjoying the feel of your heart skipping as he gazed at you through half-opened eyes. “What’s a palindromic nickname for an ancient ruler?”

“Ehm,” He scrubbed at his beard, sufficiently distracted from your mooning stare. “Tut?”

“Clever boy.”

You were quite sure neither of you had any good idea about what was going on in this trashy Netflix movie.

You didn’t because you’d caught yourself spacing out on at least three separate occasions and every time you glanced back at the screen a new character had appeared and about whose identity you knew nothing. And you knew he who was curled up to you with his head resting over your heart didn’t know much more than you did. Namely, because he was barely awake.

You’d lulled him to sleep accidentally on purpose as you toyed with his hair, twirling the messy curls around your fingertips and tugging gently on a few stands here and there. It was not unlike having a giant puppy snuggled up on your lap.

“I keep falling asleep.”

“I know.”

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“… no.”

It was the second quickest way you knew of getting him to give in to sleep. (Or, the second-and-a-half quickest, anyway.) You were both hopeless at sleeping unless you were together, and unless you’d managed — by chance of a miracle — to stumble upon some much-needed calm in your lives. Which was exactly why a night spent alone together and tangled up on the couch was a rare treat and one of which you were both taking full advantage.

You could feel him fighting against his body’s urge to fall in a heap; feel his eyelashes batting languorously against the cotton of your shirt, feel the rise and fall of his breath deepening under the palm of your hand.

There was something delicious about this, about the weight of his body laid over yours. His head was on your chest, his nose tucked up against your sternum, and he had one arm thrown over you and one leg as well, his chilly fingertips curled under the crook of your arm.

“Don’t let me fall asleep again.”

“Okay.”

You had every intention of letting him fall back to sleep; of putting him to sleep. He needed it, and you needed this — him, just him, here, with you. And so you buried your hand back in his wild mane, scratching and gently tugging and soothing him — and tracing circles over the plane of his back, too — and waited for him to give in; to slumber, and you.

Warm body, familiar scent. You recognised that dulcet hum.

“What time is it?”

He wasn’t due back for another day, yet. Unless you’d lost track of time in all of your tender yearnings, waiting for him to come on home to you.

“Late. Go back to sleep.” His breath was hot in your ear, the whiskers of his chin rasping across your shoulder. “… missed you.” It felt real; he felt real. Unless it was just another wish turned to a dream.

You tried to turn in the circle of his arms, feeling like you needed to lay your eyes on him just to be sure that this was actual. “You’re early?” He just nodded in the moonlight and smiled, a relieved grin breaking out across his tired face. “Why?”

With that, his eyebrows knitted and his lips turned down, just a flicker. You knew what it meant; that look, the one you could only just make out in the silvery light. He was saying: You know. You know, exactly.

“My body missed your body.” He mumbled against your lips, letting his smile creep back. You watched him kiss you, let your body melt into his. And then you took him in, his pale face propped up against the pillow.

He looked happy still, but you could tell he was exhausted. He was glad to be with you, but he was still wired. He was real. And he was here; he was home.

You traced a gentle finger between the furrow of his brows, flashing a smile of your own at the peck he dropped to your palm as it slipped by. “Sorry I woke you.” He sighed and gave a sheepish little shrug, his arms settling back into place around you, again.

You could only laugh — you couldn’t possibly care less, and he knew so. “Have anywhere you need to be tomorrow? In the morning? Is it the morning, already?” He silenced you with another kiss, his head shaking gently to-and-fro, the tip of his chilly nose brushing against your own.

“Nowhere to be but here, with you.”

“All mine…”

“Always.”

#hozier fanfic #submission #hozier/unspecified gender oc #this is so sweet i love it!!

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survivorparr · 5 years

Text

the sun and her moon, pt 2/8 (Don’t Lose Ur Head)

In Which Choreography is Rehearsed and Cathy Comes Back from Vacation

(aka Yes, those are Definitely the tEchNicaL names for that choreography, No, I do Not take constructive criticism)

•

“Alright, ladies! Brilliant show this afternoon, just a few things I want to clean up,” Grace announced.

“Brilliant show yourself - truly, Grace, you’ve been nothing short of incredible,” Aragon commended her.

“Yeah, mate, the crowd was going bonkers after I Don’t Need your Love, did you hear?” Anna added.

Grace turned red and smiled bashfully. “Thanks, you lot, that’s really kind! And thanks so much for being so great these past few weeks,” she replied.

“Aww, round of applause for Gracie!” The girls whooped, cheered, and clapped for their friend, eventually gathering her into a group hug.

“Alright, alright, I feel very loved, but now, there’s choreography that needs touching up!” Grace scanned the faces around her. “Let’s start with the second half of Don’t Need Your Love seeing as Cath hasn’t made it back just yet, and I can mark her track for now. Can we go from ‘you might think it’s tough’?”

Jane noticed that poor Anne looked lost in thought, just positively elsewhere, but she quickly snapped out of her fog when she noticed the others staring. “What? Sorry, yeah, sounds good”.

“If nobody objects, I’m just gonna speak the lyrics in rhythm instead of singing, yeah? My voice is a little shot from that last set of riffs,” Grace admitted. The queens took their places, Grace smiling at Anne from Cathy’s place at the other end of the stage. C’mon Anne, get your heart in it. She exhaled deeply.

“Five, six, ‘And you might think it’s tough...’”

Jump cross out, jump cross out

Slooow circle, back it up, jump

“I don’t need your-”

Hop and kick and step and shake and

Leg, throw, rock-cross-out and

Body roll, hips,

Arms, arms, shuffle left, shuffle right

“Hmm... could we do it again from the roll? There’s something a bit wonky happening with the shuffley bit at the very end, and the arms just before are getting a tad lazy. Remember, you’re supposed to look regal! I’m gonna watch this time, so just... pretend Cathy’s here or something, I don’t know”.

(Anne tried to ignore the way her breath caught in her chest)

“Y’know what, just back all the way up to ‘tough’ so I can see the whole thing”. The girls obliged and reset their formation.

“Alright here we go... Five, six, ‘And you mi-’”

“‘-ight think it’s tough, but I’ve got to let your love run cold, we’re taking back control, darling you should know-”

As she walked backwards to her next spot, Anne searched the mirror in front of her for the source of the melodious voice that had suddenly taken over Grace’s marking. A flash of electric blue moving towards the front of the room caught her eye. Cath.

“I don’t need your love, no, no-”

Anne felt an exhilarating surge of energy course through her body. Suddenly, every jump and bounce felt electrified. “Can’t let it get the better of us, no, no”.

The segment of choreo that Grace has asked to see had ended, but that wasn’t stopping anyone. Cathy was moving to take her spot center stage for the riff chorus, and the others (most by now having joined in singing the backups) were encroaching in on her.

Anne swayed her hips back and forth as she sang, bouncing up and down along with Aragon and pausing for a moment to lean her head on Jane’s shoulder. All the while though, she kept half an eye on Cathy - Cathy sinking to the ground as her voice rose upwards in a scoop, Cathy coolly staring down an imaginary audience as she confidently strutted forward, Cathy’s eyes closed and her head thrown just slightly back as she released a chillingly powerful riff.

The girls punched their fists in the air, having reached the end of the number. Within moments, they were a pile of limbs and hair, each grabbing at any visible pieces of Cathy.

“Welcome back, darling!!”

“-missed you so-“

“-look right tan-“

“-good to see you!”

“God, I’ve missed you guys so much! I never thought I’d say this, but it felt weird having that much alone time,” Cathy laughed.

“We want to hear all about your trip,” Kat pressed.

“I’ll tell you all about it, but I’ve got a feeling this one isn’t done with us yet,” said Cathy, squeezing Grace around the shoulders and playfully tousling her hair. Anne involuntarily raised an eyebrow. “How’d you hold up then, Amazing Grace?”

“I felt pretty good about it, honestly!”

“Pretty good? She was bloody brilliant,” Anne interjected. Cathy tilted her head up to meet Anne’s eyes (had they always been so green?). While she’d been away, she’d noticed that on more than one occasion, Anne’s jarring Northern accent had popped into her head uninvited with a running commentary of sorts. Cathy wasn’t unpleased so much as surprised - she was fond of Anne, but she tended to spend more time around Aragon and Jane.

Cathy finally smiled. “I’ll bet she was. Did you get her to buy into your Cotton Eyed Joe idea?”

Anne cackled wickedly. “HAH - as if”.

“Your what now?” Jane inquired.

“It’s nothing, it’s stu-“

“Every night during intermission, Anne walks right up to me while I’m meditating and begs me to do the Cotton Eyed Joe with her when we dance together during Kitty’s part of the Megasix. Refuses to leave well enough alone, too - I swear, she just sits there making puppy dog eyes at me. Eventually, I realized I could get her to stop by plugging my ears and singing the Green Giant commercial jingle at her really really loudly and very off-key.”

Anne grinned, snickering at the memory. “Hey now, don’t expect me to help next time you can’t reach the top shelf”.

She took notice of Cathy’s barely-rumpled cropped cerulean hoodie and white lace-up joggers. Two immaculate Dutch braids ran down from the tip of her forehead and hung over her shoulders, edges perfectly set. Jeez, how does she still look like that after a day of airport travel? She suddenly felt self-conscious about her cut-up tiger t-shirt, sweatpants, and unruly top knot.

“Alright queens, back to it - we want to get out of here at a reasonable hour, don’t we? That last shuffle step looked much sharper to me, so let’s move on to No Way. Let me see the formation in the first chorus where you do the hands on shoulders bit”. The girls moved into their diamond with Aragon in the front, Anne and Cathy standing just off her shoulders.

“Can we hold and check the spacing on this?” Grace called. Everyone put their hands in position.

It must’ve been at least 6 full seconds before Anne realized her fingertips were brushing against Cathy’s where their hands met behind Aragon’s back. Inhaling sharply, she jerked her hand away and looked hastily to her left. Cathy shot her a quizzical look. “Sorry,” Anne mouthed at her, repositioning her hand slightly. “You’re fine,” Cathy mouthed back.

“Spacing looks better, let me see the diamond thingy in motion. Five, six, seven, eight, one-”

“If you thought for a moment-’”

Cath felt the beat pulsing through her as she bounced. She’d missed Aragon’s brassy, confident vocals. Slide, slide, twirl... it had been weeks, but she found she slipped back into the choreography with ease. Cross stage right in front of Anne, then fall in line behind Jane. She caught Anne’s eye as they passed each other and smiled at her. Anne reciprocated with one of her unfathomably odd (yet endearing) facial expressions as the two took their places in line. The girls giggled wildly as they body rolled opposite each other before stepping into their final poses of the chorus.

“YES, could everyone turn and watch Anne and Cathy do that last roll? If each one of you would put that much sauce into it, I could die a happy dance captain. Let’s see it again, you two: one, two, three, four-”

There was no time for Anne to panic or to process the heat of all the eyes watching her. All she could do was stare unwaveringly at Cathy as the two of them moved in unison (This was probably for the better, seeing as off to the side, Kat was tugging excitedly at Jane’s sleeve, and behind Anne and Cathy, Cleves was demonstrating her approval with some very suggestive dance moves).

It suddenly felt incredibly warm in the room. Head swimming, Anne could barely register anything else that was happening until Jane walked over, holding her green water bottle out to her. She reached out to touch Anne’s forehead.

“You alright there, darling? You feel a little warm. Anything bothering you?”

“I’m alright, just a little tired”.

“Really? So you’re definitely... not hot, or bothered? Not even in the slightest?”

“I told you, I’m fine, Jane, promise. You’re the one being massively weird, ya kook!”

“Alright, then. Just as long as you know that if something were going on, you could tell me, or any of us”.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re such a mom?”

“Yeah, I might’ve heard that once or twice.” Jane rubbed Anne’s back affectionately before leaving her to her thoughts.

Anne looked around to see where Cathy had gone to so she could apologize for her awkward staring, and then for her awkward fingers (again), but Cathy was across the room with Grace reviewing the most recent set of choreo changes to Kat’s number. For a moment, Anne stood transfixed by the duo’s equally fluid movements, but she was then pulled back to reality by a sudden twinge in her gut. Man, pull it together. I swear, Boleyn, whatever’s got you so jumpy, I sure hope it lets up soon.

#parrlyn #catherine parr #anne boleyn #katherine howard #grace mouat #six the musical #six #millie o'connell #maiya quansah breed

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mssjynx · 5 years

Text

love

ohmtoonz warnings: MAJOR CRACKFIC 1882 words . i didnt edit this. i skimmed it for mistakes but its super messy and was born because of the last hour or so of me and @heyyglasses swapping the cutest softest songs back and forth and screaming about them. so this is for her!!

Luke hated nothing more than when Ryan left.

Being home without him simply put him in a bad mood, though he’d never admit that to Ryan himself. Lies like, “I’ll love the peace and quiet,” and “I hardly notice you’re even gone,” slip off his tongue anytime the topic is mentioned. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he knows that Ryan knows that he doesn’t mean a word.

From the way Ryan’s eyes roll, lips pulling up in a knowing smile before he turns away from Luke and remarks something simple like: “I’m sure, Love,” or “I miss you too.” And Luke is left in the bedroom, or the kitchen, or on the front step, grinning to himself and pressing a hand to his own chest to feel the warmth that always spreads beneath his ribcage when Ryan smiles like that.

So when Ryan had left on a trip to Los Angeles, totaling four full days and two half days away from Luke, the older man was miserable in their empty home. He woke in a cold bed each morning. He stepped out of the shower to a lack of soft music and the usual delicious scent of breakfast. God, did he miss Ryan’s cooking.

Sitting on the couch with a controller in his hands, or some stupid tv show playing through Netflix, he could hardly pay attention. It was as though without Ryan, a cloud hovered over his head all day and all night and he longed for the moment Ryan walked through the front door, car keys jingling and the soft thuds sounding as he kicked off his shoes.

“You’re like a fucking puppy!” Delirious crowed during a recording session in which Luke had been playing like horse shit. The comment had his irritation narrowing. “Your owner’s gone to the shops and- and you’re jus’ sitting at the door waitin’ for him to come home!” The hysterical laughter filled his annoyance further but he couldn’t really be mad at his friend.

He wasn’t wrong after all.

But barking out a short, “Don’t act like you ain’t whining for Evan’s attention all damn day. You’re the definition of his bitch,” did the trick just fine and left his friend spluttering and stumbling over excuses as the other three men in the call laughed and echoed insults back at him.

They forgot about Ryan, but Luke didn’t.

He couldn’t.

The trip was too long, too far away and each day without Ryan, Luke grew more and more agitated and whiny. Delirious could hardly stay on the phone with him for five minutes without him whining like a kid about how he missed his lover, and how he hated being alone. While on the phone to Ryan, he refrained from admitting anything of the sort. That silly sense of pride, the face of tough, carelessness he pretended to wear.

Ryan saw right through him.

He knew he missed him, of course. He knew Luke loved him, adored him, despised being without him. But Luke held his pride in the little things that Ryan didn’t know.

Like how Luke missed being able to pay his boyfriend for a morning coffee with a gentle kiss to his temple. How he adored the way Ryan would lose himself talking about something he was passionate about, excitement shining in those pretty eyes and freckles dancing across his cheeks. The way Ryan would play with Luke’s fingers without realising, brushing his soft fingertips against the callouses to capped Luke’s.

Being without Ryan was more than just missing his boyfriend. It was missing the every little thing about him.

Having to pick up his towel off the carpet because Ryan could never damn remember to put it back in the bathroom. Scolding the love of his life with as stern a voice he could muster when facing that guilty smile and genuine apology, knowing all too well that next time Ryan would still leave his towel on the carpet.

Playing games with his arms around Ryan and his hands on his controller, having to look over his boyfriend’s shoulder; complaining even though the last thing he wanted was for Ryan to get up. It wasn’t as fun when Ryan sat beside him, or on the floor in front of him. It was nicest when Luke could thoughtlessly drop kisses to Ryan’s bare shoulder, or the nape of his neck. When he could whisper teasing words in his ear and feel Ryan’s laugh against his own chest.

The look of concentration Ryan wore when working at the dining table. The dim light above, glow of his screen reflecting off his thick-rimmed glasses that always, always, always, seemed to sit askew (no matter how many times Luke fixed them). Luke had never known someone to look so breathtakingly beautiful, sitting behind a computer screen in comfy pjs, with wonky glasses and hair messy from the fingers that frequented it.

And the simple way Ryan sighed. He was someone who sighed a lot, perhaps without really realising so. When he was tired, amused, bored, content, in love. He sighed. And it was one of Luke’s favourite sounds. Up there with the sound of Ryan’s laugh: when he was being devious and hiding something, when he was too breathless to form words, when he teased Luke relentlessly to see that silly pout.

It was all worth it.

Always, always worth it.

So when Luke awoke on Thursday, the day Ryan was due to come back, he was giddy with excitement. He woke with a shiver, didn’t have to stop on the way to the kitchen to return Ryan’s towel, made his own shitty breakfast and spent an hour or so cleaning, organising and hoping time passed quicker.

The very thought of Ryan in his arms had his heart crying with excitement, longing to be with his other half again. He knew he would lose his tough guy act the moment the door opened. He knew he couldn’t sustain it when he had missed Ryan so heavily.

He wouldn’t waste time on pretending.

And he didn’t. Sitting on the couch, not paying attention to the stupid anime Delirious had recommended he watch, the sound of the car engine pulling in had him on his feet in moments. His smile was instant, striding to the window and pulling aside the curtains to watch his boyfriend step out of the car and pull his suitcase out with him. When he reached the front door and pushed it open, Luke practically yanked him inside without a care for the bag that fell to the floor. Muscled arms encircled him, tight enough to limit his breathing, not that he cared as Luke buried his face in his neck and breathed in deeply.

“Jesus, fuck-” He laughed openly, arms curling around Luke’s neck as the bearded man reminded himself of his boyfriend’s scent, warmth and touch. “Did you miss me?” he teased, glancing around the unusually clean house as Luke’s arms curled tighter, placing little kisses on the ticklish skin of Ryan’s neck, loving the way he squirmed and giggled.

“You’re not allowed to ever leave me alone again,” grumbled Luke, not lifting his face at all as Ryan tried to push him away. After a few more seconds of savouring the embrace, Luke finally complied and eased back. Taking in the picture of Ryan’s broad smile and flushed cheeks, sparkling green eyes and spotted freckles; Luke felt like he’d been hit by a truck as the breath swept from his lungs. Ryan seemed content to hold onto the moment, eyes dancing over Luke’s face and hands resting flat against his chest. He leaned into Luke’s touch when the southern man cupped his face, smiling gently.

Yeah. No more tough guy.

“I missed your smile.” Blunt. Obvious. Luke found no reason for beating around the bush, and by the surprised look on Ryan’s face, he hadn’t been expecting the admission. His eyes fell in his fluster, turning to close the door and kick his bag aside. Luke wasn’t ready to let space stay between them for long though and as soon as Ryan turned back to him, he was enveloped into another embrace, Luke pressing kisses to his spotted cheeks and nose as the younger man laughed and squeezed his eyes shut. “I missed your freckles. I missed your stupid face and your laugh. And that you never put your towel away, and you never have your glasses straight, and sitting with you watching movies and playing stupid games, and-”

Luke had so much more to say, so much more to miss, so much more to love. But Ryan didn’t let him, catching his jaw and holding his face still so he could lean in and press his lips to Luke’s. Luke melted into it, pressing forward and holding Ryan tight around the waist, feeling the man’s arms tighten over his shoulders, fingers playing with the hair at the back of his head.

He eased back for a breath, sighing and releasing billions of butterflies within Luke’s chest. “Luke?” A breathless question that received a low sound in response, sharp dark eyes examining Ryan’s freckles, trying to count them in his head but losing count before he could even reach ten. “Don’t tell me about it. Show me.”

Fuck, did Luke love him.

He found a soft hand in his and didn’t hesitate to pull the giggling man after him, to their bedroom. Luke lost himself in Ryan. He lost himself in the love of his life, his touch, his scent, his beauty. Pretty sounds, giggles, sighs: they spent hours kissing and whispering sweet nothings, and indulging in exactly what they had been craving for days and days.

“I love you,” Luke murmured as he laid kisses from Ryan’s wrist to the inside of his palm to his the pad of his thumb. “You’re not leaving again. Not for a long time.”

Ryan smiled up at him, accepting the chaste kiss to his lips as he released a soft exhale. “I want to stay with you.” He let his fingers push through Luke’s hair, smiling at the way his eyes lingered in a blink, enjoying Ryan’s simple touch.

“Good,” he grumbled, catching Ryan’s hand and pressing a kiss to each fingertip. It wasn’t often Luke was seen so affectionate and sappy. Ryan loved it. He adored it. He savoured every second.

“I love you.” Ryan’s voice grew softer, another sigh leaving his lips as the drowsiness from his flight caught up to him. Luke smiled gently as pretty green eyes fluttered shut. “Nap with me? Please?” When they blinked open up at him, pleading and hopeful, there was no way in the world Luke would have the power to refuse.

Leaving kisses atop Ryan’s eyelids, he allowed his lover to curl up against him, hiding his face against the older man’s neck and sighing with content.

Three words, repeated in a breathy whisper, rolled over Luke’s collarbone as he laid a kiss to the mess of brown hair atop Ryan’s head. “I love you…”

With Luke’s lover drifting off to sleep in his arms, nothing else in the world mattered. He had him back. And he wasn’t going to let him go again easily, that was for certain.

#crackfic #ohmtoonz #ohmtoonz fic #ohmtoonz fanfic #bbs #banana bus squad #song inspo #music inspo #god this was fun to write #its been too long since ive done ohmtoonz #how lovely #its shit but its cute shit and thats whats damn important #enjoy!

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xswestallen · 6 years

Text

Tattoo

WestAllen fanfiction 1342 words

Set after 5x03

Summary: Sherloque's comment has Barry paying a little too much attention to Iris' shoulder.

Iris purred at the touch of Barry's soft, warm lips on her skin. He started just behind her ear and worked his way down her neck. As his mouth descended, so did his hands, gliding the bra straps off his wife's arms, and then exploring her bare back. Iris closed her eyes and let herself be carried away by the bliss she felt, laying in their king sized bed on clean sheets, Barry's arms around her, and his kisses melting her like the burning candles around the room.

"Mmm, babe." Iris moaned.

Barry's lips had made it to her shoulder. He kissed and nipped at her skin, over and over. His fingers danced down her spine and she arched her back. Then, Barry's fingers traced the outline of her shoulder blade, his thumb massaging in little circles. He didn't stop. After a minute, Iris realized that Barry was only touching her shoulder. Then, he was only touching a small area on her shoulder, confining his fingers to few inches.

Iris craned her neck to see what Barry was doing. His expression was focused. He stared at her shoulder, fingers still grazing across it, as if he was studying it.

"Bear, what are you doing?" Iris asked.

Barry's eyes darted up.

"Nothing. Just kissing you."

"Why the particular interest in my shoulder tonight?"

Barry scratched his neck. His cheeks turned pink, a blush so intense inklings of it could be seen on his muscular chest.

"I thought you liked when I kiss your back."

"I do. But, that's not what you were doing." Iris said. She rolled over to face him. "You were all about my shoulder."

Barry avoided looking into her eyes. He put on his sweet, puppy dog, face to feign innocence. That's when Iris knew what he'd been doing.

She gasped, "Barry, were you feeling for my tattoo removal scar?!"

That afternoon, their new teammate, Sherloque Wells, had announced his intimate conclusion as a master detective that Iris had a tattoo as a tribute to a former lover. It was a secret regret that Iris had no intention of ever telling anyone, let alone half the people she knew. Barry's face after hearing the revelation was mortifying. Iris brushed it off at the time, hoping everyone would forget. She thought it had worked, because the rest of the day's events had driven any thoughts of her secret tattoo far from her own mind. Apparently, it was still fresh in Barry's.

"You never told me you had a tattoo!" Barry said defensively.

"Because I don't anymore. I had it removed years ago."

"You told me this scar," Barry once again moved his finger over the small lines of scar tissue. "Was from when you fell ice skating."

Iris vaguely remembered coming up with that excuse back when she and Barry first started dating. He stared at her, his eyes looking greener than usual, tinted with jealousy. Iris bit her lip.

"I lied because the truth was embarrassing."

"You can tell me anything, Iris. Tell me who you got a tattoo for."

Barry looked at Iris pleadingly.

Iris buried her face in her hands and sighed.

"Babe, it's so corny and embarrassing."

"At least tell me what the tattoo was of." Barry begged.

"Ok, fine." Iris took a deep breath and told him, "It was a little red heart."

Barry looked crestfallen.

"A heart? So it was for a former lover?" He pouted.

"That's what's so embarrassing. It was a heart that my ex had drawn for me."

"Did you get matching tattoos?" Barry asked with a not so subtle hint of horror in his voice.

"No. Uh, I guess I have to tell you the full story. But, you can't tell anybody else, ever!" Iris pointed her finger at him. "You swear?"

"Swear."

"Ok. Well, you know how I never really had a steady boyfriend in high school?"

Barry nodded. He remembered the parade of guys Iris went on first dates with back in high school all too well, as they were the objects of his envy for years.

"When I got to college, I met Gavin. He was the first friend I made on campus and had this huge crush on him. I was too shy to tell him, so I handed him a love note."

Barry smirked. Iris felt even more embarrassed.

"Wait, that's not even the embarrassing part. It gets worse." She warned. "Anyway, he said he liked me too and we started dating. When spring break rolled around, he had to go home to help his dad with some work. Since he lived so far away, we weren't going to see each other all break. To say goodbye, he wrote me this sweet love letter, kind of like the one I'd given him to tell him I liked him. He signed it with a little red heart by his name."

Barry raised an eyebrow. Iris knew he was figuring out where the story was going, but there was no way he could know just how awkward it was about to get.

"I went with some friends to the beach for spring break." Iris continued. "I brought the note with me because I thought it would romantic. A day or so into the trip, I had way too much alcohol and got this very stupid idea to get the heart from the note tattooed on me as a surprise for Gavin."

Barry's jaw dropped.

"Wait, your boyfriend didn't know?"

"No. We'd only been dating about two months when this happened. So, when we both got back to school and I showed him how I'd drunkenly committed to having his cheesy artwork on my body permanently, he got a little freaked out. To be honest, I can't blame him. He said I was moving too fast, rushed out of my dorm, and never spoke to me again."

"Oh." Barry whispered. He no longer nervous or insecure, but uncomfortable with second-hand embarrassment.

"It was humiliating. I got that stupid heart removed as soon as the semester ended, before anyone saw it. I've had the removal scar longer than I had the actual tattoo."

"So, it's not really a tribute to a former lover." Barry sighed.

"No. It's a reminder that I shouldn't go so hard on the tequila."

Iris slumped back on the pillow. Recounting the experience brought back long repressed mental cringe.

Barry put his arm around her.

"Hey, it's not that embarrassing. It was sweet."

"It was pathetic." Iris insisted.

"It was romantic."

Iris looked at Barry with a crooked eyebrow.

"How would've you reacted if two months into our relationship I tattooed your wonky, lopsided drawing of a heart on myself."

"I would've loved it!"

Iris snorted out a laugh. "You're a bad liar."

"I'm serious. Iris, I was ready to commit to you since the 7th grade."

"Really?"

"Yeah, if the law didn't mandate you be 18 to get a tattoo, I would've had Iris tattooed on my face by my 15th birthday."

Iris giggled into Barry's chest. He stoked her hair with one hand and again, went to trace her shoulder scar with the other.

"Are you still jealous that I got a tattoo for someone else?" Iris asked.

"Kind of." Barry admitted. "I'm sorry if it's possessive, but I don't like the idea of some other guy's mark on you like that."

Iris looked up at him with lustful eyes. She used her elbows to squish her breasts closer together.

"Then, make your own mark on me."

Barry's boyish grin transformed into a cocky gleam. He wasted no time. He grabbed Iris and rolled her over so he was on top of her. His kiss stole her breath.

The next morning, Iris looked at herself in the mirror as she was getting dressed. As she was putting on her necklace, she noticed a bruise on her skin, just below her left collar bone. She moved her finger over it, fondly remembering how it had gotten there. In the mirror's reflection, Iris saw Barry smirking.

#westallen #westallen fic #westallen fanfiction #westallen fluff #westallen smut #the flash fanfiction #barry allen x iris west #barry x iris #iris x barry #missing scene #iris west tattoo

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slbpfics · 6 years

Text

Forever - Saizo x MC

Author’s note: Hello, everyone!! It’s been months since I’ve posted something written by my lazy self. It’s late, but here is a oneshot for our favourite ninja’s birthday. Thank you all for sticking around!!!

Word count: 1264

Tagging: @suzunesays @quincette @uxoremmikael @that-otome-potato @marin23jones @books-and-colours @mistakenmessenger @jemchew @frywen-babbles @pseudofaux @wonky-glass-ornament @yoolee @saizoswifey (You don’t know me but I like your blog a lot ^_^)

The cold wind from the window is what woke you. You turned over, fingers absent-mindedly searching for a form that wasn’t there. He’s out again.

You had tried to understand, really, the odd habits that Saizo possessed. It was, however starting to get a teensy bit difficult.

He would disappear for extended periods of time, not answer his phone, and never tell you where he had been. He would get in an extremely sour mood whenever you asked for any particulars regarding his occupation, and give a different job title every time you did. Each job title, however did not explain his expensive clothes, his sparse, but expensively furnished apartment, or his assistant/ friend/ partner Kiyohiro, who seemed to appear out of nowhere within a few minutes of calling him via text.

Well, needless to say, you had guessed that his job was somewhat on the illegal side, and while your rational side screamed about how you should stay away from such a guy, you couldn’t stay away from him. It wasn’t something you could explain to anyone who tried to persuade you into breaking up with him.

Given that all your theorizing about him had chased your sleep away, you decided to get up and make yourself a mug of tea, and hope that he somehow returned. You pushed yourself out of the bed and walked towards the bedroom door.

You winced at the heat outside your cool bedroom. Rubbing at your eyes, you made your way to the kitchen. It was dark. But your eyes got used to it, and you made your way to the kitchen without any stumbling.

The sound of the occasional nocturnal insect was the only thing you could hear. At this point you didn’t expect anything remotely romantic like Saizo appearing randomly and hugging you from behind. It was sad that the initial fiery romance in your relationship had died out. Saizo had been distant after those first few months, and you had given him his space.

You deserved some answers. This secrecy was too much.

Shaking your head, you focused on boiling the water for the tea, the good old way. Seeing the water slowly bubbling was oddly calming. You opened the cupboards searching for the teabags.

“They’re in the third cupboard. Bottom shelf.”

You spun around so fast you nearly smacked your hand on the hot kettle. Silvery hair shone in the little moonlight that came in through the balcony.

You had been debating the odd habits of this person and the ups and downs of your year-old relationship, and now, here he was. Standing in front of you. After nearly three weeks.

“Saizo.”

You inwardly winced at your flat tone. You had always acted like a happy puppy whenever he did come back home, happy for whatever little affection he threw in your direction. No more.

You took out the tea bags from their location, and made your tea, all the while being aware of his keen eyes on your form. As you picked up your mug, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. Saizo held onto you, taking advantage of the mug held in your hands.

“What’s wrong, little lady?” he mumbled right in your ear, his breath tickling your neck.

There were so many things wrong. He did love you, you knew he did. You saw it in the little things he did to make you happy. Those little things did not, however, fill the void that was left by him every time he left. His silence on so many things- his job, his family, his love life before you- made you wonder whether you knew the man you loved at all.

But, you couldn’t bring yourself to walk away. You knew he would let go if you did, he wouldn’t stop you if you walked away.

You stayed rooted to the ground. The heat from the mug was starting to hurt your palms.

Saizo didn’t move either.

“This. All of this, it feels unreal. It’s like you’re a dream,” your breath hitched– but you willed your tears away, “like, one day, I’ll wake up and you won’t be there.”

You felt his embrace tighten. You placed the mug on the counter and he loosened his grip enough for you to turn around in his arms. His eyes were on you, deep and unwavering, and for a moment you wondered whether you had upset him. But today you had made up your mind. You didn’t want walk on eggshells around him. You would be honest and tell him just what you thought about the current state of things. You would not keep this inside you any longer.

You loved him. And so you decided to be honest with him. You met his intense gaze with one of your own.

“I love you, you know. Even though it feels like I don’t know you sometimes. Even though I feel like you’re going to leave. I don’t complain, I don’t nag at you for anything. I give you your space. I worry when you disappear for days. When those days turn into weeks, I can’t help but fear for the worst. Is it selfish of me to want to know more about you? I know it’s stupid, but I always jump to the worst possible conclusion. Is it pathetic for me want to cry in relief when you come back home after weeks? Am I doing something wrong, here?” You didn’t know when you started to cry, but a few tears did escape your eyes, and you wiped them away hastily. They made you feel like you were on the losing side of an argument.

All this while, Saizo had said nothing. He just kept rubbing circles into your back. His hold on you was still firm. You leaned your forehead against his chest, not wanting him to see any more of your tears.

“It seems like the little lady has been thinking a lot while I was away,” he said, his voice gentle. He lifted your chin up with a finger. You kept your eyes downward.

“These thoughts of yours don’t seem to be a recent development, though. How long have you felt this way?” If he was angry, his voice did not betray a trace of his anger.

You looked up at him. A slight smile rested on his lips. Did I just make a fool of myself? Was I acting too desperate? Maybe I could’ve worded it differently. Your heart sank. Is this where this relationship ends? Will we end our love like this? You turned away, a fresh batch of tears about to spill from your eyes.

Saizo must’ve noticed the look on your face, because he cupped your face, and made you face him. You, however refused to meet his eyes.

“Look at me, little lady.” You did. He wiped your tears away with his thumb. “I am here right now, am I not?”

“You are. But for how long?” You had meant for your voice to be sharp. Instead, your voice was a whisper. His crimson eyes widened for a split second.

“As long as you would have me.” He replied, his resolve clear in his tone. You placed your hand over his heart, feeling his heartbeat.

“I want you forever. For as long as we live. That is never going to change.” You blurted out, desperate for him to understand your feelings. His eyes widened in open surprise. You felt his heartbeat race.

“Well, then. If that’s what you want, little lady. Forever it is.”

#samurai love ballad party #slbp saizo #saizo kirigakure x mc #saizo #saizo kirigakure #slbpfics writes #purequeenoftheimpure writes #happy birthday saizo 2k18 #slbp fic #modern au #slbp fanfic #slbp mc #slbp modern au

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