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familyfriendlyweed · 3 years

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late night snaps (quackity x reader)

a/n : before we get into the story, i wanted to thank you all for such support on my first post - i only posted it yesterday, and got a hell lot of likes and reblogs and even gained 23 followers, which is insane for me (or maybe i just don’t know how tumblr works, haha)! anyhow, i’m really happy you guys enjoyed it <3

it was 02:37 and you were editing your newest video. you had no idea it would take so long, though! even if you were used to staying up very late, you knew you have to put away your laptop and go get some sleep.

saving the video as a draft and shutting your computer off, you started to blindly search for your phone, since your eyes didn’t get used to the darkness yet. finally finding it, you turned it on to set an alarm for the next morning when you suddenly saw a snapchat notification from ten minutes ago. it was from Alex. you curiously unlocked your phone and tapped the little notification to be led straight to snapchat.

idiota : hello mamacita

your face instantly lit up in a childish smile. you started to type your response eagerly like it wasn’t 2 am and you didn’t have online classes tomorrow.

you : why hello there, el señor

you saw Alex’s silly bitmoji pop up as he started to type.

idiota : what is my chica bella doing up so late?

you giggled, getting comfortable in your bed - this meant a long chatting session on its way.

you : YOUR chica bella? when did that happen?

idiota : ANSWER THE QUESTION!!!! >:((((

you : fine you big baby, i was finishing editing a new video

idiota : hmm i see, i see

you : what about you though? u should get some sleep!!! :(((

Alex’s bitmoji started typing, then stopped for some reason. you lifted your eyebrow at that. then he continued, but it took a while for him to finish.

idiota : why, i just couldn’t fall asleep when you were on my mind all the time, mi amor

your cheeks grew red in an instant. you knew you could handle jokes pretty well, but this was quite too much. Alex never got so far as to actually flirt with you.

you : eh??? what drugs are u on

idiota : the only drug for me is you mamacita

you snorted. you had no idea if he was being serious or not, even if the second option was more likely.

you : literally go to sleep wtf

idiota : i’d sleep better if you were by my side ;)

this was enough for you - you felt as if you got one more message like this from him, you’d die from the hotness in your cheeks. setting your phone down, you made your way to the bathroom before bed.

you came back five minutes later, only to see your phone full of notifications from Alex. your heart was thumping really hard, you weren’t used to this, but you opened snapchat anyway.

idiota : mamacita?

idiota : ....

idiota : mamacita, don’t joke w me like that

idiota : did you really just leave me on read wtf

idiota : i’m sad come back :(((

and at last, there was a snap from him. you were quite scared at this point. with a shaking hand, you opened it.

you laughed so hard that you seriously thought you’ll have a seizure. still laughing, you snapped a selfie with a cute filter on (you really thought you looked horrible at the moment), captioned it with “your chica bella had to take a piss u simp” and sent it to Alex.

he opened the snap almost imediatelly and started typing afterwards :

idiota : mamacita!!!! you look hermosa!!!!

you : that’s because i have a filter on lmaoo

idiota : mamacita don’t let yourself down, you are so beautiful :((

you started to text a sarcastic reply, but stopped. for some reason, Alex seemed like he was being truthful. he wasn’t joking around when he called you beautiful, that was too affectionate.

you : ...really?

idiota : si, si! <3

you tugged at your lip in a thinking manner. true, you had feelings for Alex, but you never thought he had something similar to you. or maybe... maybe he was just supporting you as a friend. figuring that was probably it, you texted :

you : thank you quacker B]] ur also v handsome

idiota : mamacita likes me!!!!!😍😍😍

you smiled sadly. Alex was definitely playing around. you got lost in thought for a few moments, thinking about how would he act if he was actually in love with someone. would he, perhaps, be more mature? that would be very weird to look at.

finally coming back to planet Earth, you looked at your phone only to see that Alex has written a shit ton of messages again :

idiota : i want to see you, mamacita

idiota : it’s fine if u don’t want to, you’re probably going to sleep anyway...

idiota : but maybe let’s meet tomorrow?

idiota : mamacita?

idiota : ....

idiota : i’m coming over <3

your heart gave a leap of embarassment and surprise. why would he even say that?

you : wait what

you : wdym “i’m coming over”

you : no tf ur not

you : go to sleep

idiota : doesn’t mamacita want to see muah???

you : no, that would be awesome, but you should go to sleep, really :(

idiota : y/n, i already told you, i can’t sleep when you’re on my mind

you froze in spot, staring at your screen for what felt like an eternity. did he just call you by your name? you knew he only says it in serious situations. deciding to change your tactic, you started texting seriously :

you : are you like... for real now?

you : because i know you call me by my name in serious situations, but maybe it’s only a prank, so just answer me truthfully, okay?

Alex started typing, it took even longer that before, but at last you saw his message, this time without caps, spammed question/exclamation marks, nothing silly at all :

idiota : i am serious, y/n. believe me, this is not a prank. i just really wanna see you.

your heart skipped a beat or two, your face renewed its redness. you felt as if you were dreaming.

you : okay... i’m really glad. come over, please

idiota : thank you so much

you started pondering in your head - how did this happen? how did this silly conversation turn out like this?

but what if Alex texted you because he wanted to come over in the first place? after all, he knew how shitty your sleep schedule was. that would be awesome, you thought, a small smile dancing on your lips.

you checked the snap map only to see Alex about 100 meters from you. wait... what? 100 METERS??? was Alex near your place the moment he texted you for the first time?

you jumped up, starting to tidy up your messy room up, only to remember you look like poop at the moment - hair messy, face tired, clothes scrunched.

exhaling heavily, you tried to change your appearance quickly - you ran into the bathroom, brushing your hair panickily. then you wrenched the makeup bag open and started to rummage through it trying to find some mascara or something...

ding ding!

you froze, your eyes widened. he was already here, what the hell?!

you quickly put on some mascara, ran into the hallway while brushing your face with your hands from stress (completely forgetting you have mascara on, somehow) and unlocked the door.

Alex’s figure was dark, since the lightbulb in the corridor wasn’t working, and it almost gave you a fright. but as soon as he engulfed you in a warm hug, the tension in the pit of your stomach vanished. you hugged him back almost unsurely, but smiling.

“hello, mamacita”

you giggled. for some reason, you got the strongest urge to cry. probably from happiness, but it still was confusing to you. nevertheless, tears started running down your cheeks, mixing with mascara, probably making you look like you were going to a halloween dress up party.

“hey, why are you crying?” Alex asked, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“i look horrible.” you laughed, wiping your tears away.

“nooo, why won’t you listen to me? i already told you you’re beautiful.” he said with a cute pout.

“alright, alright, i’m very beautiful, let me down now.” you said, noticing that he was still holding you in his arms tightly.

“whatever the chica bella says.”

he put you down.

“aren’t you going to turn on some light? i feel like i’ve gone blind!” Alex exclaimed jokingly and you giggled.

“i’m like a bat, i hate much light, sorry. buuuut i could turn on this little lamp.” you said, making your way to your desk and turning on a cute little lamp the shade of warm pink.

“perfect.” Alex said, eyeing you in light now. you thought he’ll make a comment about your awful mascara-stained face, but he said nothing, just smiling and looking at you in awe, like you were some princess in a ball dress instead of a tired college student in messy shorts, an oversized t-shirt and two different socks, because you couldn’t find a pair of the same ones.

“perfect.” he repeated, shrugging with a smile on his face, like seeing you was everything he needed.

you laughed and hugged him, muttering a “thanks for coming”. Alex didn’t hesitate and also hugged you, holding you as close as possible, as if he let go of you, he’d drown and would never come back to be by your side again.

little did you know, he felt the exact same way.

#quackity #quackity x reader #quackity imagines #quackity imagine #dream smp imagines #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt imagines

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sirtommyholland · 3 years

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Four Years of Birthdays

A/N: Hey everyone! This isn’t my first time writing for Harry but my first time actually posting it so I’m very excited! This is inspired by the little piece I wrote on Tom Holland’s birthday, I wanted to make a similar concept. Hope you guys like it, and happy birthday to our beloved baby boy Harry Styles! We love you so much!💜

Word Count: 2.4k (she tiny because I suck)

Summary: Harry’s four different birthdays with Y/N in differents points of his life.

Fluff all the way! with like a little talk about sexual themes because I had to.

poc friendly and plus size friendly (I think, please tell me if I made a mistake!) because we dont blush bright red or swim in men’s clothes in this house💫

2019 - 25th Birthday

Spending his birthday with Y/N was one of Harry’s favourite things. Over the last ten years of his life, she had missed quite a few of them as he was on the road and she was back home in London, going to uni and living a normal life. It was only the last couple of years that he was able to be home on his birthday, his solo career allowing him a bit more freedom to arrange his schedule as he wanted.

This year, he had wanted to have a quiet birthday, just with his family and close friends. And of course, his girlfriend, who was currently climbing on his back on the bed, trying to coax him out of sleep.

“Loviee” she whined into the back of his neck between kisses. “Wake up.”

“No.” his voice was deeper than usual as he groaned, trying to bury himself more into the pillows to avoid the bright sunlight in the room. “‘M sleepy.”

“But it’s your birthday.” she protested with a kiss to a small part of his cheek that wasn’t hidden away. “I need to give you your 25 kisses.”

“Just 25?” he frowned, raising his head from the pillow to look back at her. “That’s nowhere near enough! You kiss me more on a regular day.”

“Hmm..” she pretended to ponder his words, one of her hands going up to brush away the soft curls that fell on his forehead. “Then how about I give you a blowie for 25 minutes?”

Even if she couldn’t see his face, she would still be able to hear the grin in his voice. “Now that’s more like it.” He was turning over and laying on his back in a heartbeat, tugging at her thighs to make her straddle him again.

She complied, throwing one leg over his hips and gently sitting on thighs, not putting her full weight. She leaned down to softly brush her lips against his, once, twice, three times. “Happy birthday, baby.” she sighed against them, rubbing her nose against his lovingly.

“Thank you, angel.” he smiled, letting his hands roam over the soft material of her shirt. “I reckon it’s gonna be the best one so far.”

“Really? Is there a reason why?” she grinned, feeling like she already knew the answer.

“Because this is the first one I’m waking up with you as my girlfriend. Finally,” he sighed. “I can kiss you for real instead of making a wish for it when I blow out the candles.”

“You’re so cheesy.” she teased with a smile, leaning down to give him another kiss. “I still can't believe you wished for it.”

“Literally every year.” he confirmed, only blushing slightly under her loving gaze. “Honestly don’t know what I’m gonna wish for this time. It’s been the same thing for many years.”

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something.” She placed a final peck to his lips, then swiftly got up from his lap. “Now get up, your mum’s expecting us for breakfast.”

“But- but- my blowie!”

She looked back to see an adorable pout on his lips, one that she almost couldn’t resist. Almost.

“Later.” she promised, pulling him to his feet and laying a few kisses on his neck. “I’m gonna take care of you properly tonight, after your party. Along with your final present.”

“You’re a tease.” he breathed, the meaning behind her words not so hidden. She grinned, and trailed her hand softly down his back until she was grabbing his bum, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Heyy!” he jumped, trying to grab her before she made a run for the bathroom, and failing.

“Pick your outfit, it takes ages!” she yelled through the closed door, making him huff and fall back on the bed dramatically.

“Harry Edward Styles!” Well, guess she knew him too well.

“Yes, ma’am!”

2009 - 15th birthday

“Hello.”

Harry raised his head from the plastic cup he was refilling, to see a familiar girl looking at him with a friendly smile.

“Hi.” he smiled back as he straightened up, silently giving her the cue to go on.

“Sorry to bother you. I just wanted to say that I really liked your performance. You guys were incredible!”

“Oh, thank you! Of course you’re not bothering me. I’m glad to know you liked it.” He grinned. “We’re at the same school, right? I’ve seen you around before.”

“Yeah, but we’ve never actually talked, I think. I’m Y/N, by the way. Will invited me because I live next door.” she explained, nodding towards his bandmate that was currently hosting his birthday party/small concert in his garage.

“You don’t need to explain yourself! Next time, I’ll just have to make sure that I invite you myself.”

She grinned at his words. “That’s very nice of you, Harry. Oh, and happy birthday, by the way! I almost forgot.” Right, she was at his birthday party. She already knew his name.

“Thank you! And thanks for coming.”

Before she could open her mouth to say anything else, the lights were dimmed and the back entrance of the garage was illuminated with a soft, orange light as his friends brought in the cake. Off-key voices singing him happy birthday filled the space, and he made his way to his friends with a huge smile on his face, Y/N joining the small crowd around him as they waited for him to blow out the candles.

“Don’t forget to make a wish!” one of his mates yelled just as he was leaning towards the cake.

“Sorry.” he chuckled, then closed his eyes to make his wish. I want to make music. For all my life.

Little did he know, that would be his only wish in the next ten years that didn’t involve the girl that he had just met.

2016 - 22th birthday

“I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling twenty-two! Everything will be alright if you keep me next to you!”

“What the fuck.” he muttered into his pillow, trying to figure out if he was dreaming or if his phone was actually ringing with a Taylor Swift song. But even when he was wide awake after a few minutes he could still hear her melodic voice, so he reached out with a groan and checked the caller ID. Of course.

“How did you manage to change my ringtone all the way from London?” he answered in a groggy voice.

“Well, good morning to you too, hun, took you long enough! I’m very good, thanks for asking! And I got Niall to do it yesterday, obviously.”

“... Morning Y/N.”

“Oh, stop grumbling, it doesn’t suit you. Get up and get ready, I’m gonna facetime you in thirty minutes.” And before he could say anything, she hung up on him.

He looked at this phone in disbelief. Did she just hang up on me on my birthday?! He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the soft smile that appeared on his face. To be honest, there were a lot of things he couldn’t help when it came to her.

Half an hour later, when he was freshly showered and dressed, his phone rang with an incoming facetime call just like she said. She probably set an alarm for exactly thirty minutes, he thought fondly.

Her smiling face greeted him as he accepted the call. “Happy birthday, Haz!!”

“Thanks, love.” he chuckled, eyeing the tiny cupcake in front of her through the small screen. “Whatcha got there?”

“That’s your birthday cupcake, made it myself! Was tired of shitty store-bought cake.”

“I don’t know, it looks kind of ugly.” he joked, grinning at her mock-offended face. “I could do better. I worked in a bakery, ya know.”

“You literally just ran the register and washed the dishes.”

“Still, in a bakery!”

She was shaking her head at his shit-eating grin, but he could still see a soft smile playing at her lips. It caused his heart to flutter in his chest. What he wouldn’t give to see her smiling at him like that everyday.

“Anyway, candle time!” she piped, grabbing a lighter from somewhere behind the camera and lighting up the single candle on her tiny cupcake.

Harry watched her raise the cupcake closer to the camera and she instructed him to make a wish. This routine was familiar to them now. Every year, she would video call with a different type of cake, to make up for not being able to be there with him.

Harry closed his eyes, and made the same wish that he had been making for the last six years of his life. I wish you were mine.

He opened his eyes and blew lightly towards the screen, her actions matching his as she blew out the candle in his place. She gave a little cheer afterwards, and the brightness of her eyes warmed him up all the way down to his toes, even through a phone screen.

They talked for a while after that, catching up on each other’s lives and discussing the dates they would be able to meet up again. She hung up with a final ‘happy birthday, love you!’ and then he was left staring at his phone, a small smile still remaining on his face. I wish you were mine.

And later, when he logged onto his twitter account and tweeted some certain song lyrics, he only cared about one person’s reaction out of millions.

2018 - 24th birthday

“Hey. I’ve been looking for you.”

Harry turned towards the kitchen door that led to the back garden, seeing her slide it close to make her way towards him.

“Just taking a breather, love.” he said, accepting his woolly coat that she handed him. “Thank you.”

“Didn’t want you to catch a cold.” She sat next to him on the wooden porch bench, wrapped up in her own fuzzy coat. There was another item in her hand, a thick, heavy looking box.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at it.

“Oh, I came here to give it to you. Your final gift.”

“Y/N.” he sighed. “The others were more than enough.”

“I don’t think this even counts as my gift, honestly.” She grinned at the puzzled look on his face. “Just open it.”

He did. Inside was a thick notebook, a scrapbook by the looks of it, that read ‘Happy Birthday Harry! - 2018’

He looked at her curiously, but she just smiled and told him to open it again. He turned to the first page, and ran his gaze across the page. His eyes widened in surprise. He quickly flipped a few pages to see that all of them had the same thing; printings. Printed screenshots from various social media platforms, of his fans wishing him a happy birthday.

“I know you don’t use social media a lot these days.” she explained as he kept reading the tweets glued onto the scrapbook. “But you were trending on Twitter today, and yesterday too, lots of people wishing you a happy birthday and telling how much they loved you. I thought you might want to see it.”

He let out a watery laugh, not being able to tear his gaze away from the book in his hands. He couldn’t help the tears, not really. She had taken the time to print out lots and lots of tweets, instagram posts, everything; she had cut them and put them in this book and added little stickers in between with colorful doodles. And she had done it to carry his fans’ messages to him, she had basically hand-delivered their gifts of love to him.

“Thank you.” he breathed, his voice catching in his throat. “This is… I think this may be the best gift I’ve ever received.”

“Well, like I said, it’s not technically from me. I just put some tweets together, your fans are the ones who wrote them.” She paused, then added. “I just wanted you to see just how loved you are. By everyone. You have such a kind heart, and an amazing soul; all of these people are aware of it and they love you for it.” She tapped the book in his lap, emphasising her words.

“Thank you.” he repeated himself, seemingly at a loss for words. He closed the book and carefully put it back in its box, intending to read everything in it later. He placed it beside him, then turned to her and pulled her in a hug.

Her arms were around him in a second, not hesitating to tighten around him and pull him closer. She was so warm even in the cold weather, and she smelled so nice, and he wouldn’t be able to pull back if he tried. He didn’t know how long they sat there in each other's embrace, but when he felt her starting to lean back, something in him shifted. He turned his head towards her as she pulled away, so his cheek was softly grazing hers. She stilled a bit, looking into his eyes as if she was looking for something, then she closed her eyes and turned the rest of the way, her lips meeting his in a gentle kiss.

His breath hitched in his throat as his lips slightly parted, a small gasp making its way out of them when he realized finally, finally he was kissing her. He was kissing Y/N. This was really happening.

He brought a hand up to gently cup her cheek, his thumb stroking her cheekbone as they kissed, probably the softest, the most incredible kiss of his life. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe how amazing she felt against him, how her hands in his hair felt just right, how warm her cheek was under his hand.

But despite every bone in his body wanting to kiss her forever, he was the first one to pull away, because he just couldn’t keep it in anymore. “I wish you were mine.”

“What?” she asked breathlessly, apparently still under the effect of their kiss.

“I wish you were mine.” he repeated. “That’s the wish I’ve made on every single birthday since I was sixteen. Everytime you looked at me and told me to make a wish, I was only able to think about how much I wanted to kiss you.”

She stared at him with parted lips, looking into his eyes like she was trying to figure out if he was messing with him. She could only see love and admiration.

“You’re an idiot, Harry Styles.” she breathed. Then, she cupped his face with her hands and kissed him again, and again, and again, and he felt like everything in his life was finally going to be okay.

some end notes: Sooo I’m sorry for the kind of shitty ending. It’s literally 3 am in Turkey rn and I have an early class but I just wanted to finish this quickly and post it before I went to bed. I haven’t written anything in months because I wasn’t 🌌feeling it🌌 so I basically bullied myself into writing this haha. This is my first posted Harry piece but there are a few other pieces I’ve been working on! (for months, literally. *sigh*)

If you liked it, please feel free to reblog and leave a teeny tiny feedback! Writers really appreciate it!💜

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #happy birthday harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #best friends to lovers #pining

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jaalismyhusband · 3 years

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Took you long enough

Title: Took you long enough

Pairings: Sebastian Stan x f!reader

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, explicit language, age gap, corruption kink if you squint

Wordcount: 2.9k

Masterlist

To say that these past few months have been stressful is an understatement. You were an aspiring actress and somehow landed a pretty big role in a movie. It already had some famous names attached to it and you were quite intimidated to star along the other actors. But nonetheless, you put on your big girl pants and took the opportunity. Caught in a loop of constant stress, memorizing the lines, filming the scenes, promoting the movie, you had only so much time to really appreciate what was going on. It was only after the first month of filming you realized what the hell was actually happening.

Your co-star Sebastian Stan has helped you a lot with handling everything. You remember, when you found out he was starring in the movie as well, you almost passed out. Getting to know him was such a surreal experience. Although you had a big crush on him, you stayed respectful towards him and you two became rather close friends.

To be honest, the more you got to know him, the more you liked him. And this time it wasn’t just a platonic crush. You tried to fight it, but your struggles were fruitless. You had it bad for your best friend. Acting on your feelings was not an option however. It was no secret that no woman occupied his bedroom for more than one night. You knew it was bad news to fall for him, yet you couldn’t help yourself. You liked how he didn’t pretend, but actually listened to you. How he seemed to remember even the little details you mentioned to him. How protective he was of you from the day you met, especially while defending you when people called you “the new kid” - the nickname stuck with you during the whole period of filming, much to your dislike. You knew they meant well when they called you that nickname, trying to make you feel like a part of the group. You were much younger than most of the cast, but you didn’t think of yourself as a child anymore. It seemed impossible to convince others of that, though.

Only a few people respected you enough not to use that nickname - one of them being Sebastian. At times you thought he didn’t see you as a kid with the way he treated you and you were naïve enough to get your hopes up. That was a mistake, you thought, as you watched the interview Sebastian had done earlier that day. He was asked about the cast members. You anxiously waited for your name to be mentioned, palms sweating as you guessed what he would say about you.

“What about Y/N? You seem close, not to mention how often you are spotted together.” The interviewer raised his brow, as he waited for an answer.

Sebastian smiled widely as he answered: “Yeah, we are really close. She’s like a little sister I never had, you know?”

Your heart clenched painfully, as you stopped the video. You just had to accept that it would never work. How could you be so stupid to think he’d actually like you, when he had so many women at his feet, begging to be noticed by him. You were thankful you were his friend - that had to be enough. It wasn’t, though. No matter what you told yourself, you always ended up thinking about him in inappropriate ways.

The door on your trailer opened and revealed happy Sebastian with take out.

“Hey, I thought to bring you some food, since it’s going to be a long day today.” He smiled at you as he sat down next to you on the couch, handing you your food.

“Thanks.” You smiled back. You didn’t waste time and dug in, only now realizing how hungry you were. He seemed to know you better than you knew yourself.

Sebastian broke the comfortable silence: “Hey, so, I want to ask you for advice.” Did he seem nervous? No, you thought as you hinted him to ask away.

“There’s this woman, that I like. I shouldn’t, but something about her is so intriguing, I can’t help it. And I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.

“I can’t believe you are asking me for an advice on how to pick up women. You getting rusty, old man?” You joked, as his face fell in disappointment.

“I’m serious, Y/N. I think I’m ready to go all the way with her. But she’s not really – uhm, how to put it – available. That’s why I’m so nervous about it,” he sighed, as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Right, sorry. But still, I think you’re perfectly fine. Just ask her out. She’d be stupid to reject you,” you spoke sincerely.

“Thanks, I’ll go for it then.”

The rest of the lunch was enjoyed in silence.

Few days have passed and your mood seem to only decrease as the time went on. You secretly hoped Sebastian was talking about you and that he would ask you out later. But this was your life, not a romcom. Your hopes were crushed, when you asked Sebastian about it and he confirmed what seemed like your worst nightmare.

“She said yes!” he exclaimed excitedly and you gave him a hug to hide the mixture of unpleasant emotions plastered on your face.

“I’m so happy for you,” and you were, truly. As long as he was happy, you would be too. But why did it hurt so much anyway?

Ever since then, you just weren’t your ever smiling self. What you were was a millennial and you did what millennials knew best – repressed your emotions. Stuffed them deep inside your soul where nobody could acknowledge them, not even you.

The days seemed repetitive. You were exhausted from putting up a show not only when you were filming, but now also when you were in a company of your friends. Luckily, there was only one scene to film and then a much needed vacation awaited.

“CUT!” screamed the director. “What the hell Y/N?! This is the seventh take and you still can’t get it right.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll get it this time, I swear,” you apologized and immediately took your spot, wanting nothing more, than to finish this scene, go home and curl up in bed while watching your favourite show.

Today was just one of those days, when it seemed like the whole universe conspired against you. First, your alarm didn’t go off, which resulted in being late on your last day. Your hands were shaking by the time you got to the set and you managed to knock over the cup of coffee, just barely missing your costume. Not to mention how anxious you were, since you were purposely avoiding Sebastian. You only missed him more and yet, you couldn’t stand being in his presence. It hurt not being able to look into his eyes. This all held you back from giving a flawless performance in front of the camera, which only frustrated you even more.

“We believe in you, kid. Breathe, focus. Action!” You were truly thankful for the support, as you finally got the scene right.

“And cut! We got it! Ok, that’s it, guys. It’s been pleasure to work with you all. As you may have heard, there will be an afterparty, if you will, tonight. Please, do come! Till then have a great day everyone!” Finished the director and people started to clap. There has been a heavy boulder of a rock lifted from your shoulders as you realized this was it. You quickly said your goodbyes to everyone, eager to go home and hide.

“Y/N! Wait!” you were on your way out when you heard your name being called. You sighed and put on a smile, before you faced Sebastian.

“Hi, I’ve tried to call you, but you weren’t picking up. You’ve been distant lately. Have you been avoiding me?” He accused.

“No! No, I uh… My phone has been malfunctioning these days, I’m getting it repaired soon,” you weren’t proud of yourself for lying to him, but you weren’t ready to tell him the truth just yet.

“Are you coming to the afterparty?” It was obvious he didn’t buy your white lie, but decided not to ponder on it.

“Oh, I don’t think I am. I’ve had an extraordinarily shitty day and I don’t wanna be a party pooper.” You immediately gave him a list of excuses.

“Yeah, yeah, quit it, queen. I’ll pick you up at 7.” He left you no space to argue and just walked away. You shook your head in disbelief and made your way home.

“Finally,” you exhaled a big breath once you collapsed on your bed. Sleep was an alluring way how to avoid your problems. So, you did the reasonable thing and took a nap.

You woke up right as the sun was setting. You still hadn’t decided if you were going to go to that stupid get together or not. You knew it would be a nice change of pace, to let go for one night. Afterall, it was a celebration of the hard work the cast had done. On the other hand, Sebastian would be there. And now that you thought about it, he would probably bring that woman, he asked out earlier. You weren’t ready to see Sebastian all lovey dovey with someone else, god no.

But this was also the chance to see him for the last time. You weren’t sure if he would keep hanging out with you after the movie was done. Tears stung in your eyes as you realized that he would probably cut ties with you. Sure, you would call each other once a week, then once a month, then only on holidays and then he would eventually stop calling you whatsoever. You were going to lose him. You were so sure of it. The tears were now streaming freely down your cheeks as you hyperventilated. All of those emotions that were supposed to stay stored away came at you at once, demanding to be experienced, to be felt.

You couldn’t calm down and there was only one person who was able to soothe you. Your best friend from high school. Due to your career you two weren’t hanging out as often as you’d like, but your bond hadn’t suffered because of that. You dialled her number after you blew your nose, so you were able to somewhat form words.

“Hi, Y/N! Oh my god, it’s been so long since we’ve actually talked!” You sobbed even harder when you heard her enthusiastic voice.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Talk to me,” she pleaded, as you tried to calm yourself enough to talk.

“Today has just been such a shitshow,” you cried out. You told her all about your day, but the topic soon enough changed to the real reason why you were crying – Sebastian.

“You know what’s the worst thing? I love him. So fucking much. And I know he doesn’t feel the same. He sees me as his little sister. SISTER. No way he would be attracted to someone he considers a sibling. Oh, and have I mentioned that now he’s suddenly had a change of heart and stopped sleeping with random women because he mEt SoMEoNe sPeCiaL?” you mocked him, “I just can’t. I know that I did this to myself and it’s not his fault, but fuck! I can’t even tell him how I feel, because there is only one scenario to this – him ending our friendship because of it. I don’t know if I’m ready to lose him completely.” You kept on rambling as your supportive friend listened, offering you her kind words here and there.

Soon after she apologized profusely, as she explained her break was over and she had to get back to work. You assured her it was okay and that you were thankful she found some time to listen to you pour you broken heart out through the phone. She ended the call by reminding you that she loved you and hung up.

You sighed and blew your nose again. You stood up from your bed, taking the used tissues with you.

“Fuck.” You stopped dead in your tracks, feeling like a deer in front of a headlights. There stood a very shocked Sebastian.

“How did you get here?”

“I came to pick you up, remember? Front door was unlocked, so I let myself in. You didn’t respond when I called your name. I looked for you and found you here, crying,” his voice cracked at his last words: “I have never seen you cry before.” He seemed truly sad, but you were too frightened to notice.

“How much of it did you hear?”

“Everything.” He exhaled and you struggled to meet his gaze. You huffed, storming out of your bedroom, leaving him behind. You just wanted to disappear right on the spot and avoid this confrontation.

You almost ran to the kitchen, throwing the tissues to the bin. You hoped this was all just a bad dream and that in fact Sebastian wasn’t here, but all that convincing was futile once you turned around and saw him sitting in your kitchen. There was a tense silence, as none of you knew what to say next. The air grew heavy, suffocating you.

“So,” Sebastian cleared his throat, “you like me?” To which you only nodded, as you leaned on the counter.

“Why?” he asked. You laughed at that, the sound so alien to you because of all the crying.

“You were nice to me from the first day. You gave me a chance to get to know you. Once we started hanging out I just, I don’t know. I like how you talked to me, like I wasn’t just the new kid. You actually listened to what I had to say. You made me feel special, Seb. Not to mention, you look like a fucking Greek god,” he chuckled at that.

“Weren’t you discouraged by my age? Or the fact that ‘I slept with random women’?” he asked, using your words against you.

“Well, I can’t blame you for that. And I can’t blame those women either. And your age never bothered me. In fact, it’s just another thing about you that turns me on.” You realized too late what you were about to say and just said it. Your eyes widened and your face heated up, as you tried to shrink your existence and hide from Sebastian’s piercing gaze.

“I turn you on?” Sebastian asked, amused by how embarrassed you were. He stood up and walked up to you. You shied away, but he trapped you in between his arms against the counter, so you wouldn’t run.

“I’d like your advice on something,” he started as he looked you straight in the eyes, “There’s this girl I’ve befriended. She’s really young and innocent, like an angel. I think I liked her right from the start, but I knew I wasn’t good for her. And yet, I can’t help but be attracted to her. I’ve tried to forget, but all those meaningless nights and faceless women couldn’t fill the void. Couldn’t erase the feelings she brought up in me every time I thought of her, saw her, touched her. I think about her almost every night. About how I’d hold her, kiss her, make her moan my name.” You squirmed under his gaze, but he paid no mind as he continued his monologue: “I fantasize about deflowering her, turning her into a mess, while I transform her into my greedy whore. The image makes me painfully hard. And now, I have a chance to make her mine. What do you say, doll? Should I go for it?” You gasped at his confession and only weakly nodded.

His lips met yours in a desperate kiss. It was all tongue and teeth. He wasn’t gentle with you by any means, not that you wanted him to be. His hands pulled you impossibly close, as they squeezed your ass, making you moan into the kiss. You both had to stop and take a breath, your foreheads connecting as you panted.

“I made her up, you know,” spoke Sebastian softly.

“What?”

“The woman. She doesn’t exist. It was you who I’ve been talking about, but then I chickened out.”

“Why?” you were curious and anxious at the same time to hear his answer.

“You called me an old man! I thought you would be creeped out!” he got defensive.

“That was a joke, Seb,” you laughed, “Why did you tell me that she accepted?”

He awkwardly scratched his neck, as he mumbled: “I didn’t want to disappoint you, that your advice hadn’t worked.” You just burst out laughing at that. Sebastian didn’t like that, as he faked getting offended and hurt, which only caused to make you cry-laugh. You finally calmed down, after a while, only now seeing how Sebastian was watching you the whole time. He gently wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb, as he held your face.

“I love you, Seb,” it felt good to finally say it out loud. You were absolutely lovestruck and at this point you didn’t care.

“Took you long enough,” you rolled your eyes at him, as he smirked.

“I love you too, doll.”

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan ff #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #rpf #fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfic

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sleepysnk · 3 years

Text

the chapter you've all been waiting for.

Team Player: Chapter Six

Pairings: Eren Jaeger x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.0k

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

The sound of Eren's alarm woke him out of the deep sleep he was in.

He groaned as he reached over to grab his phone which was still blaring the annoying sound of his alarm. It was morning already? He felt so exhausted and he just wanted to roll over, and sleep the rest of the day away.

But sadly he couldn't.

Eren's eyes squinted as he looked at the screen which read the time, it was 8:55 a.m. He sat up in his bed and rubbed his temples, his hair was messy from sleeping, and his ankle slightly ached from the pain he was in.

Sighing, he sat up and grabbed some clothes. His body felt tired as he yawned and stretched his muscles, feeling a few joints pop as he moved around. Boy did that feel good.

Eren tied his hair into a bun and threw on a sweater and sweatpants. His usual. Eren didn't really care to get dressed, who was he impressing? Plus it was a pretty chilly morning, the temperatures were dropping as fall began to become more known. He just wanted to be comfortable.

Eren wrapped his ankle with the wrap given to him by the nurse, and popped a few medications into his mouth before heading out of his dorm to the main campus for class. The exhaustion going through him was enough to make him walk slower to class, plus with his limp, it made him slower than usual.

He was never usually this early to class, most of the time Eren was with Jean or Reiner talking about the game or simply goofing off. Unfortunately, most of his teammates avoided him or just gave him dry responses. It was difficult for him and in a way, it kind of hurt a bit. Seeing your own teammates being so against you that they have to avoid you really sucked.

"You're here early Eren… that's a surprise." Professor Ackerman said, opening the door to his room.

Eren rubbed the back of his neck and walked into the empty class. A few students trailed behind him and went to their own seats, Eren stared into space waiting for class to begin.

Within a few minutes, Professor Ackerman stood at the front of the class. "Good morning, I hope you all are doing fine or whatever. Let's talk about what you're going to be doing today," he explained, grabbing his papers.

Eren sighed with boredom and tapped his pencil on the counter. What was he going to do this time?

"Today you're all going to be starting a brand new project. It's based on the unit we've been covering for the last two weeks, so I hope you've been taking notes and paying attention. To save some time, I decided to partner you up with someone else in the class," Professor Ackerman said, leaning against his desk.

A few small groans and eye rolls came from students hearing the words "project" and "partners".

"Enough of the groaning, I know it's not ideal but it's better than going through 20 different presentations." he said and crossed his arms. "I'll be pairing you with someone randomly, this project must be done as a pair. If I see that one person did more than the other it will deduct points off your grade," he added.

Eren leaned back in his chair and looked around the class. He pondered as to who his partner could be.

"Listen for your names and once I call it raise your hands," Professor Ackerman said, looking around the class.

Different names began to be called, some people groaned at the realization of who their partners were, others just shrugged and seemed unfazed by it all.

"Eren Jaeger and (Y/N) (L/N)."

Eren's eyes went as wide as saucers hearing that name again. (Y/N) and Eren hadn't talked in years, especially after the embarrassment that went down their freshmen year. He knew she was in his class, but he never really paid much attention to her.

"Get started on this immediately, the project will be due next week. No funny business either," Professor Ackerman said and turned to sit at his desk.

Eren shifted in his chair and watched as (Y/N) made her way towards him, she seemed totally unfazed and sort of annoyed by the situation she was in.

She had changed quite a bit. It had been about 3 years since they last talked with one another.

"H-Hey.." Eren said as she plopped down in the chair next to him.

(Y/N) looked blankly at him and opened her laptop. "Here.. put your email in," she said, avoiding his gaze.

Eren put his email in and pushed her laptop back towards her. The atmosphere felt awkward and thick between them.

"Do you want to go to the library? When you have the time," she asked and averted her eyes towards him.

Eren nodded, looking up from his phone. "Yeah.. that's fine," he replied.

The two sort of silently worked with each other, no words were spoken between them. Eren felt the tension and so did (Y/N). Who could blame them? It had been 3 whole years since they last had an encounter like this. Of course he'd see her sometimes in the hallways, or getting some coffee, but they never spoke verbally to one another.

"Alright you're all dismissed, remember to work on this project as much as you can." Professor Ackerman said.

Eren and (Y/N) stood up. "I'll see you later," she said, walking away from him.

This was going to be just great.

Most of Eren's classes seemed to fly by as it was now the end of the day. He was supposed to meet with (Y/N) in the library later, of course it was awkward. She didn't seem too interested in what he had to say, nor did she seem talkative.

(Y/N) sat in the library patiently waiting on her phone. Curse Professor Ackerman for putting them together. Her view on Eren Jaeger did not change one bit. His actions caused a lot of embarrassment for her, a lot of people saw the video of her that day in biology, and they made fun of her.

It wasn't an overstatement to say she hated Eren Jaeger.

She stared at her laptop screen as she heard the library doors open. Her eyes averted to see Eren making his way towards her, she noticed his limp which made her brows furrow.

"Hey, sorry for being a bit late. I got caught up with my friend," Eren said, throwing an apologetic look her way. "So uh.. I have some ideas for the project," he added.

(Y/N) nodded. "What are the ideas?" she asked, raising a brow.

"So.. we could add some different examples of the different bacteria. You know? Shorten it down a bit, because if we make it longer than we should he'll take points off." Eren explained. "Let's do it that way," he added.

(Y/N) wasn't exactly amused with the idea. She felt like shortening it would also give them points off.

"I don't think we should do that. If we make it too short then we get points off too," she replied.

Eren stared at her confused. "Then we just make it medium. I'll do the easier slides," he said, shrugging. "It'll be a good grade for the both of us. You're smart so," he added.

(Y/N) furrowed her brows and felt irritation going through her. "Dude that's not fair to me at all. We should just do every other slide, that gives me all the hard work. It isn't fair," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Look, it's easier for the both of us. It is fair, let's just do it my way," he said, looking at her.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. "We did it your way last time and you fucked it up," she replied.

Eren looked at her and furrowed his brows. "You're still mad about that?! Come on (Y/N), get over it. You're being overdramatic," he said, crossing his arms.

That's when she had enough and grabbed her stuff, pushing it into her backpack.

"Where are you going?" he asked as he watched her sling her backpack over her shoulder.

(Y/N) scoffed. "You know… your teamwork skills are absolutely shitty. You're selfish and you always think for yourself. That's why our project went to shit freshmen year, I'm tired of biting my tongue with you. Fuck off Eren," she said standing up. "Maybe for once.. take a look at the shit you do from other people's point of view," she added, exiting the library.

That's when it hit him.

He did have shitty teamwork skills. (Y/N) even said it herself.

Everyone was right about Eren, he was a selfish person. The answer was clear in front of him. Guilt washed over him as he realized what he had done, not just to his team, but to (Y/N) too.

He had to find (Y/N), maybe she could help him.

(Y/N) stared at the ceiling as frustration ran through her.

Eren Jaeger really didn't change huh?

"Why are you sulking? You seem pissed," her roommate Sasha asked while plopping down on her bed.

(Y/N) laughed a bit and sat up. "Eren Jaeger… that's why," she replied, leaning her body against the wall. "He's so stupid," she added, looking at her roommate.

Sasha nodded. "Oh! I remember him, he's such an asshole. Did you see his giant fail?! It was so funny," she said, beginning to laugh at the thought of the video.

(Y/N) looked at her and shook her head. "No? I personally don't care what he does. I'm probably gonna email Professor Ackerman… I can't stand working with Eren. He wants everything done his way! He never listens," she replied, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

Sasha's phone began to vibrate. She grabbed it and grinned. "Oop! Connie texted me, I gotta go (Y/N). I'll see you later," she said, standing up to get her shoes. "I hope you feel better! I'll kick Eren in the nuts for you," she said giggling.

(Y/N)'s lips drew to a smile. "Alright.. have fun with Connie. Not too much fun though," she replied, winking at her.

Sasha opened the door to their dorm. "No promises!" she replied, exiting the room.

The door shut with a click and (Y/N) was now alone in her dorm. It was a usual night with Sasha leaving to go see her boyfriend Connie. (Y/N) wished she could have that luxury with someone else, but she wasn't exactly interested in anybody. Her dreams were just too much for love.

A sudden knock came from the door.

Confused, (Y/N) stood up. Sasha probably forgot a condom or something, the girl was always so forgetful.

She opened the door expecting Sasha to be there. "Forget a condom-" her eyes averted to see Eren standing there with his backpack.

"Can I talk to you, please?" he asked with desperation in his voice. "I won't be here long," he added, looking down at her.

(Y/N) fell silent and opened the door wider so he could enter. "How do you know where my dorm is?" she asked, furrowing her brows.

Eren looked back at her. "We did the project in your dorm, plus I never really forget what dorms I go to." he replied, looking around her dorm.

"So why are you here? If you're here to work on the project, I don't want to hear it." (Y/N) asked, crossing her arms.

Eren sighed, placing his backpack down. "Look… (Y/N), I realized what I did to you earlier was wrong. You're right.. it isn't fair to you, and I realize that now. I'd like to also apologize for embarrassing you freshmen year, I was childish and I feel guilty for doing it." he said.

(Y/N) was surprised hearing Eren sound so apologetic. She's never once heard him speak that way towards anyone.

"I appreciate the apology… but it still doesn't change what you did. I can forgive you Eren, but I can't forget," she replied, looking down at the floor.

He nodded. "That's understandable," he said.

The two fell silent as the tension took over. (Y/N) decided to ease the tension a bit.

"What happened to your ankle?" she asked, pointing down at his ankle which was wrapped.

He chuckled. "Oh, you concerned for me now princess?" he asked, smirking.

She rolled her eyes and opened the door. "Get out," she said, pointing at the outside of the door.

Eren put his hands up in defense. "Wait wait! I'm messing with you, I'm sorry. That was too soon," he replied, smacking his head. "Let me explain," he added, sitting down in the chair next to her bed.

(Y/N) closed the door, crossing her arms as she watched him take out his phone. Her brows furrowed as Eren seemed to be looking for something on it.

He held it out to her. "Here.. this is what happened," he said, looking up at her.

(Y/N) took his phone from his fingers and played the video which was from Twitter, specifically a sports account. She watched as Eren caught the ball and was tackled to the ground, she could see the way his ankle bent. She cringed as she saw the replay of it.

"Ouch… that looks like it hurt," she said, tossing his phone back towards him. "But why are you still here?" she asked, nodding her head in confusion.

Eren pushed his phone into his sweater pocket. "I got kicked off the team.." he replied, looking at the floor.

Her (e/c) eyes widened hearing the news. She heard people talk a lot about Eren, he was popular considering he was on the football team. She knew he was at D1 level. That's why he was here.

"Um.. if you don't mind me asking, why?" she asked, sitting down on Sasha's bed.

Eren ran his fingers through his messy bun. "It's uh.. kind of a long story in a way." he replied. "I can explain it to you if you'd like," he added, giving a weak smile.

She nodded and looked towards the floor. "Sure… I guess," she said, crossing her legs on the bed.

Eren sighed. "Basically at the most recent rival game, I ended up playing while I was hurt. My coach told me many times that if I was in pain I should come off the field, but I was fine the day before. I just thought it was nothing," he explained, shrugging his shoulders. "Then during the last play, which we were in the lead by the way, I ran for Jean's ball and we ended up hitting each other. The ball bounced off of us and it intercepted, so they won by a touchdown." he added.

(Y/N) nodded and started to process what he said. Sounds like a selfish move in a way, to her at least.

"So wait… that doesn't explain how you got kicked off," she said.

He chuckled a bit. "I'm getting to that," he said, adjusting his body in the chair. "Basically my coach told me the other day that I was benched, or you know kicked off, because I have shitty teamwork skills and apparently I'm selfish. I guess my other teammates have said it too," he added.

She nodded her head again while listening to more of what he said. She could see why his coach did it, sometimes you have to do things for the best possible outcome. Considering it was Eren Jaeger out of all people, he probably didn't see why.

"That is crazy.. I'm sorry," she said and rubbed the back of her neck. "I know things will get better," she added, laughing a bit. Eren stared at her as she sat there awkwardly. "Uh.." she said, looking around the room.

Eren shook his head. "Sorry.. um, that's what I wanted to talk to you about." he said. "If you want to listen," he added.

(Y/N) furrowed her brows. "Okay.. go ahead," she replied, adjusting herself on Sasha's bed.

Eren leaned back in the chair. "I need help," he said. "And you are the only person I know that can help me. Please, help me fix my teamwork skills." he said with a pleading tone. "You don't have to of course, but I need this (Y/N). I need this season majorly for my career," he added, looking at her with desperation circling in his eyes.

She stayed silent as her gaze dropped to the floor. Would helping him be beneficial at all? Doesn't he have other friends?

"Um.. Eren-"

"Please. I need your help," he said, cutting her off.

She sighed. "What's in it for me huh? I'm not doing it unless I get something in return," she replied, crossing her arms.

He looked around the room for a moment. "You can do the project your way, I won't interfere or tell you what to do." he said, raising his brows a bit.

She thought for a moment. She'll get a good grade and if it leads to him just shutting up, then fine.

"I'm not so sure Eren.. I doubt I can help you," she said, shrugging a bit.

"(Y/N). Please. I'm literally begging you at this point, you have great teamwork skills! I remember your presentation in biology and how you got the best grade in the class with your partner, please help." he pleaded.

She sighed, blowing air out of her nose. "Fine.. but we do it my way. We'll meet up again in a few days to get started," she said, standing up.

Eren's eyes were wide. "Wait really!? Thank you (Y/N)! You're fucking awesome," he said, grinning widely at her.

Heat rushed to her cheeks hearing what he said. "U-Uh, yeah whatever. Text me and we'll talk about it," she replied, grabbing her phone and handing it to him.

Eren put his number in and handed her phone back. "Say less, I'll see you in class." he said, giving her a toothy smile.

"Yeah whatever," she said, opening the door so he could leave.

She watched as he limped down the hall and exited the front doors of the residence hall, she closed the door to her dorm and leaned against it with a sigh.

What was she getting herself into?

tagging: @ererokii @eremiie @moomii-hime @thicmitten @callmepromise @katsuhera @basket-flower-chick @flam3bird @kc-braun @just-a-little-sad @daughter-of-the-stars11 @chayauwu @lunamoonawatcher @sof-yeager @ryan249057

#anime #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot imagines #aot fanfiction #snk x y/n #snk x reader #snk imagines #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #anime fanfic #team player

143 notes · View notes

liibrii · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2: Tattered

Ojiro Aran x fem!reader

Series Masterpost || Ch. 1

wc: 3.2k

warnings: swearing, internalised guilt and shame, intrusive thoughts, self doubt, depression.

a/n: I don’t really have anything to say other than I’m enjoying writing for Aran so much. if you wanna be tagged in future chapters lemme know, and as always feedback is greatly appreciated!

Aran knows people don't always mean what they say. Even he had done it before and it destroyed a few of his relationships. Knowing that doesn't make your words hurt any less.

He tries to convince himself you didn't really mean it, still a part of him wonders if that's how you really feel. How you've always felt. For all those years he was assured of your friendship and now you've pulled the rug from under his feet. None of your words align with the image in his head. Perhaps you've never been the person he remembers. The you in his mind is just that, a memory, a perfect picture he created from bits and pieces he chose. Has he truly always seen only what he wanted to see?

Thoughts of you run through his mind as he stands on the back line. One more serve before he wraps up. Bam.

To always see good in people is what he was thought growing up and what he still tries to do to this day, even if years had thought him people aren't only their good sides. He always thought of you only at your best and failed to even get to know you properly. What kind of friend does that? You're in pain and he can't help because he has no idea where the wounds are. He has no idea where to look for them because he refused to see.

Perhaps he is a terrible friend after all.

Bam. The ball gets caught in the net and falls. Aran watches it roll away before picking up another. He breathes deeply. It's all about focus, he reminds himself, even when his mind wants to slip he has to remain focused.

All of his teammates have left already. Home, to their partners, their families. What will he return home to? An empty apartment with take-out he'll eat on the couch. Alone. Maybe he should get a pet. But when will he have time to care for it?

Bam.

He should call home. Check on his friends. Maybe if he had checked on you more often then-

Bam.

What use is pondering over what could've been? With each serve his palm aches more, his muscles already sore from practice but he doesn't want to stop yet. One more.

“There's a difference between training hard and overdoing it, you know?“

Perhaps life is just memories of days long gone sipping into present.

When he turns to face you uneasiness rises in him. Any other time he'd be elated to see you. Now even words to greet you with escape him. You come closer, shoes softly squeaking on the gym's floor. “Doorman let me in. After a little bit of convincing.“

“Really?“

“No, I slipped past while his back was turned. How long are you planning on staying? I saw all of your teammates leave already.“

Aran turns the ball in his hands. It's becoming slippery from all the sweat. He can't bring himself to look you in the eyes. “My serves are gettin' sloppy. I need more practice.“

Bam.

You stay where you are, watching and fiddling with the strap of your bag, until you can't bear the silence anymore and speak up. “Aran, I actually wanted to talk to you. About you know... what I said.“

“T's okay. I know ya didn't mean it.“

“I did.“ Your voice eerily echoes in the otherwise empty gym. “As shitty as it is, it's how I felt.“ You're eyes stay fixed on the floor. “I'm sorry.“

Aran catches the ball he just threw in the air for another jump serve. When he looks over at you you're still intently focused on your shoelaces, gripping the strap of the bag so tight your knuckles turned white. Why are you beating yourself up so much? If you feel something, you feel it. What reason for it do you need to have? Knowing how you felt hurts, that much he can't deny. And yet he can't hold it against you.

He puts the ball on the top of your head, just like boys used to do back in high school to annoy you. “If ya really insist on apologisin' then I guess I have no other choice but to forgive ya.”

As his words sink in you shyly glance at him. “You sure?“

“'Course I am,“ smiles Aran, balancing the ball so it doesn't roll from the top of your head.

“You're not angry? At me?“

He takes the ball and starts throwing it from one hand to another. “Not really. Very surprised. A little hurt.“

“I'm sorry-“

“Yeah, yeah, I know,“ he cuts you off. “Set for me and we'll call it even.”

“Aran, my sets are in no way near the level you're used to.“

“So?“ he asks already walking over to fetch the ball cart. “Ya still remember where to stand, right?“ he teases, cackling softly when you roll your eyes and take off your bag and jacket, all while trying to hide a smile creeping on your lips.

It takes a few tries for you to remember how to make an overhand set. Aran's filled with giddy warmth when you manage to send the ball in the right position for him to spike it over the net. Perhaps all those lessons with Atsumu years ago didn't go to waste after all. Your little victory jump makes him burst into laughter and he rewards you with a high five.

It really is an echo of history.

Your skills are rusty, something that makes you apologise profusely every time you mess up, even after he reassures you he doesn't mind, and ruffles your hair.

With each set you relax more, till every smile and laugh seem sincere. Only now Aran realises how he missed this carefree side of you. Time always flies too fast when you're around and soon enough, out of breath and wiping the drops of sweat from your forehead, you call an end of this individual practice.

He hurries with showering and changing into fresh clothes, not wanting to leave you waiting for too long, especially since you have morning lessons tomorrow. He buys you a drink from the vending machine. It's not much, but staying hydrated is important, he tells you when you tease him about it.

“You know, that brought back a lot of memories,“ you say while walking to the train station, then poke his shoulder. “Thanks.“ The smile dancing over your lips makes his cheeks warm up. You glance over to the sky hiding behind a golden halo that city lights cast over the rooftops. “Do you ever miss Hyogo?“

“Sometimes.“

“I miss the stars.“ You kick a small stone from your path. “You've become quite a star too you know. With all the fans and attention I really wonder, do you get lonely?”

Your question catches him off guard. “I'm too busy to get lonely,“ he lies.

“I get lonely sometimes,“ your eyes still search for a glimmer of a distant star. “And tired. Some days I just want to sleep all day. Do you ever get the urge to do that? Skip practice and stay in bed?“

“No. If I skipped practice how will I become better?”

You purse your lips and nod. “That's why you're a professional athlete and I'm just trying to figure out why I have to separate blue and red laundry.“

“Those are two very different things.“

“Both are just some pieces of cloth. Why do I have to separate them? If they got problems with each other they should grow up and talk it out.”

That’s not what he meant, but your slight annoyance over technicalities of doing laundry still makes him laugh.

In the coming days Aran checks his phone every chance he gets, just to see if you already wrote back. No matter what you talk about he wants to hear it; be it about your day or the delivery man being late with your order. His teammates notice and tease him about it yet he denies you're anything more than just a friend, and they exchange knowing looks when his back is turned. Even if his entire body heats up at the sole mention of your name Aran isn't ready to admit to himself, let alone others, he wants you to be more.

Not when he isn't sure if his feelings for you are being muddled by his memories.

That Tuesday you grab a dinner together that turns into a late night walk through the streets. It's not a date, Aran keeps reminding himself. It's just two friends hanging out as you've done a thousand times before. So why is his heart threatening to thump it's way out of his chest?

After that night weekly hanging out with you becomes a regular occurrence. Sometimes you go out to eat, sometimes you drag him along when you go shopping, saying he has a good eye for colour combinations. It has nothing to do with the fact he buys you ice cream every time. Some days you come to his place to play video games or watch movies. Seeing his favourite series making you laugh warms his heart.

As you become more comfortable around him your facade slowly, bit by bit, starts to crumble. He's scared to see what lies beneath yet at the same time he wishes it would break already. He can't help you if he doesn't know, can he?

Whatever is troubling you he wishes you'd trust him enough to confide in him. In the back of his mind lingers the question he's too scared too ask.

Does Kita know what's on your mind? Do you still talk to him?

You used to be close to the team. The one they relied on. The one who so lovingly tapped their fingers before each game. Do they know your eyes are puffy? Do they know every sleepless night that goes by makes the dark circles under your eyes harder to hide? Do they know his heart breaks every time he sees the tremble of your lips when you force a smile?

No matter how bad he wants to hold you, tell you it's going to be okay, the mere thought of reaching out paralyses him.

What if you don't want his help?

If you did, you would've asked already, right? Not even practice can stop him from thinking about you. His disappointment grows a little when he sees no new messages. Perhaps you don't want to talk to him after all.

He's just leaving the gym when his phone lights up and seeing it's your name makes his heart flutter. He eagerly picks up. “Hi!“

“H-hey.“ Already in the first word the strain in your voice is apparent. “Um, am I interrupting you?“

“No, of course not. I just finished with practice. What's up?“

“I-“ He hears you take a deep breath. “Um, I don't, I don't feel so good...“ Your next words are almost a whisper. “Could I come over?“

“'Course ya can come over. I'll be home in about an hour.“

By the time he arrives you're already there, standing by the entrance nervously stepping from one leg to another. You give a shy wave when he approaches. He noticed you've been acting weirdly sheepish around him and he's not used to it. You're friends. What's making you so nervous?

You trail behind him, hands tucked deep in your pockets. You don't even pull them out when taking your shoes off.

“Tea?“ he offers when you make your way towards the sofa.

“Sure,“ you nod, sitting and tightly hugging a pillow. “Sorry about that,“ you say when he joins you with two cups of tea, “I just... bad day, you know? Didn't want to be alone.“

With a smile he assures you it's no problem. You're welcome to come by whenever you want.

You tell him about college, about work. “Boss is a shit bag,“ you complain. The working hours make you late for your lessons and even professors are getting fed up with you always being late. Not to mention your classmates aren't keen on lending you notes to copy.

It's all too much, you say, work, college, the pressure of everyone's expectations. Your fellow students give you funny looks sometimes, you tell him. It's only a few years but you're still older than them, at the age where your parents are asking when you are going to settle down. Have children. Get a stable job. Well how could you when you haven't even gotten your degree yet? It all makes you feel like a failure.

And yet something tells Aran that's not why you're here. Maybe it's the nervous fumbling with the hem of your clothes. Maybe it's because you don't look at him at all. A silence falls on you as you sip your tea. Aran considers asking out right but you gather the courage before he does.

“Shin called.“

“Ah.“ That's all he manages to say.

“He's doing good, in case you're wondering. He asked if we have any plans on visiting any time soon.“ Your eyes skim over his face. “That would be nice, don't you think?“

Aran forces a smile. “Sounds great.“ Once again your words threaten to shake the ground he stands on. All he hears is 'seeing Shin would be nice'. His grip on the cup tightens and he puts it away before he'd crack it.

“Do ya miss him?“ he asks, words coming out more choked up than he intended. He clears his throat when he leans back on the couch's backrest.

You think over his question. “I miss my best friend.“

He asks. Even if he doesn't want to know the answer, he asks. “Will you get back with him?“

“No.“ Your answer is quiet, but firm. You readjust yourself to lean on the backrest, facing him, the pillow still tightly squeezed in your grip. “Shin is a great guy just... not the right for me. Wasn't easy to accept but that's how it is.“ You fumble with the thread sticking out from the stitch. “I wasn't good for him, you know?“ you quietly continue. “He protected me since we were kids but at some point it all just... fizzled I guess. I was so used of always being by his side the thought of living without him terrified me. He was that stability I craved. For a long time I believed he would give me a goal in life, or something similar.“ You chuckle. “Try getting through seventeen-year-old-me's head that's not how relationships work. I knew we wouldn't work out. But I stayed because I was selfish and stupid... and scared. I think he knew. And it started to take a toll on him. So I left before he'd break.“ Tears start forming in your eyes. “Shin could never understand why I'm so sad without a reason... Maybe if I left sooner... well, it doesn't matter now.“

“Ya can still go back,“ hearing his own words shatters Aran's heart, “once ya feel better.“

The brief laugh you give almost sounds like a sob. “Can I?“ You forcefully wipe the tears away. “Even if I could it wouldn't be the same as I remember now. It's hard to explain but somehow, what’s in your memories is always better than reality. Know what I mean?“

He knows. Memory is the thief of future.

The lump in his throat grows larger, heavier as he watches you try to hide tears starting to run down your cheeks. He's lost, not knowing what else to do but to pull you closer, tucking your head under his chin. He hugs you and softly caresses your back. “It's alright,“ he whispers when you apologise through sobs and tears. He keeps repeating, it's alright. What else could he possibly say?

You relax in his arms and your sobs slowly turn to muffled sniffles. Aran only wishes you feel safe in his arms, your head leaning on his shoulder, your arms shyly wrapping around his middle. It's not the most comfortable position but he's to scared to readjust. He hears your hitched breathing sync with his own as he runs his hands up and down your back and, exhausted from your crying, you're soon fast asleep.

Perhaps for the first time in his life Aran's starting to really understand you. It pains him, knowing your struggles. You, who were always so full of light, you who were the pillar, tall and unyielding, one he could always lean onto. How memories managed to muddle his perception of you so much is beyond him. The only thing he can do is promise himself to never let them deceive him again. After all, who needs memories?

He messages you more frequently. Not too frequently, he doesn't want to appear nosy or pushy. Just often enough to let you know he's there for you if you need him.

You've been busier with college lately, so weekly hang outs turn to late night phone calls. Hearing your voice feels like a refreshing cool breeze on these hot summer nights.

He collapses in his bed, only half listening to your rambling on about one of the professors. He didn't catch her name.

“Aran? You still there?“

“Yeah, I'm still here. T's been a long day, t's all.“

He hears you hum and he can imagine the way you lean your head to the side. “Coach in a bad mood?“

“Not really. I'm just not feelin' my best. Couldn't sync with Aritsura's sets. But ya know, more practice 's all we need. How was your day?“ he asks, forgetting you just told him a few minutes ago.

“It was alright,“ you say instead of repeating what you already told him. “Actually, I wanted to apologise. About last time. I shouldn't have dumped all my problems on you.“

“How many times do I need to repeat it's okay. I'm here for ya.“

“Still. I'm sorry. It was a lot. I... I don't want to be a burden.“

His brows furrow. How many times does he have to repeat it? Why don't you get it? “Yer not.“ Your low chuckle makes him irritated . “I mean it. If ya ever need to talk just say, alright?“

“Yeah, yeah I will... Thank you. It's just that... I don't want to ruin this friendship too. That's all. Tell me when I become too much. Please.“

What are you talking about? “Whatever is on yer mind I promise I can handle it.“

“Can you? So you not being able to play your best has nothing to do with me dumping all my problems on you?“

Something in the way you say those words pushes the wrong button. He's only trying to be here for you, why can't you see that? “I don't care enough to let it impact me.“ Fuck. Even before the final word leaves his mouth he knows it came out wrong. “I'm sorry, fuck, y/n, I didn't mean it like that-“

“It's okay,“ you interrupt. “You're right.“

“I'm-“

“Get some sleep Aran. You have practice tomorrow. G' night.“ You end the call before he gets the chance to say goodbye.

Fuck.

Ch. 3: In the light, your name

Tags: @rosecaffelatte, @aonenthusiast

#ojiro aran x reader #ojiro aran imagine #aran x reader #ojiro aran x y/n #aran x y/n #ojiro aran #aran haikyuu #inarizaki x reader #hq #haikyuu #inarizaki #haikyuu x reader #ojiro aran x you #aran x you #libri scribbles #all that is gold

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randomoranges · 3 years

Text

part 2

goes after bleu comme le st-laurent and before rouge comme le sang qui nous passe à travers

Blanc comme l’hiver

July 4th 2021

Edward lets out a content little sigh and twines his legs with Étienne’s. He’s forgotten how much he enjoys mornings like these where they lounge in bed, without a care in the world, and where lazy kisses turn to slow morning sex. He wishes, not for the first time, that the distances between Montréal and Edmonton wouldn’t be as big, if only to see his boyfriend more often. Still, he supposes that it’s gotten easier over the years, but he still would like to have more of these mornings in his life.

“Hey,” He starts, a thought coming up to the surface of his happy daze to nag at him, “D’you think it’s cliché?” He asks, knowing full well that his question has come from nowhere and that Étienne will have no clue as to what he’s asking. His boyfriend gives him a questioning look and Edward smiles softly, before making himself comfortable against Étienne’s chest, ghosting his fingers over shamrocks and thistles alike. He’d reach for a rose or a lily, but they’re out of reach from this position.

“Whenever we visit each other, it seems as though more often than not, the first thing we do is get into bed together.” He’d noticed it before and he’s noticed it now. It seemed that regardless of destination, after polite greetings, they’d end up naked in bed – and sometimes they’d get each other off elsewhere. It isn’t that he minds, far from it, but –

He feels Étienne’s chest rumble with his quiet chuckle and looks up in time to see him grin down at him.

“Nah, I don’t think so.” He replies, easy as that and starts tracing imaginary patterns on Edward’s back. It works, in a way, and soothes him for a moment. “The way I see it is – we haven’t seen each other in a long while when it happens. I missed you. You missed me. We both seem to be people who enjoy sex and we enjoy it with each other so it makes sense to go for it. We both want to – so, I don’t think there’s anything wrong or cliché about it.”

He settles back against Étienne and ponders his words. He supposes his boyfriend has a point. He had missed Étienne. He just – doesn’t want Étienne to find him – predictable. Or find him boring. Old insecurities that keep resurfacing – nothing new there.

“Promise I’d tell you if I didn’t want to and I’m hoping you’d do the same with me?”

He nods, quick to assure him. They’re in a better place now – one where they use actual words to convey thoughts and emotions. It’s still a work in progress, but – they’re getting there, one trip at a time.

“There, you see – not cliché. If it makes you feel better, I very much enjoyed what we did yesterday and this morning.” He presses a scraggly kiss to his cheek and Edward leans in afterwards to rub his face against Étienne’s beard. It feels good. Foreign yet familiar.

Étienne chuckles at his antics, and just because he can, kisses him again.

“What d’you want to do today?”

There’s no game today, so they can spend the day whichever way they want and Edward would like to spend it here, in Étienne’s room, with Étienne holding him close. Yet, he knows his boyfriend will get restless, and quite frankly, so will he. Still, it’s a nice fantasy and he doesn’t mind indulging in it for a little longer.

“What’s the weather supposed to be like?”

“Hot and humidity will kick in.”

Edward grimaces at that, but thankfully, Étienne has the means to deal with the extreme heat and humidity.

“In that case, I want to get acquainted with your pool. Yesterday’s weather was inappropriate for that and we were otherwise busy.” They share a knowing laugh at that, but Edward makes no move to get out of bed just yet. “But, it doesn’t have to be right now either – perfectly fine where I am – cliché or not.”

Étienne grinns and pulls him closer for a proper kiss.

It’s later, much later – perhaps hours and days and weeks later, when Edward finally steps out to the backyard. (But it couldn’t have been days and weeks later. The playoffs are still happening. This is just a minor break between maelstroms.)

He gasps when he gets a proper look at the backyard and marvels at how different it looks from his last visit here.

“Everything okay?” Étienne asks as he joins him, towels in one hand (one Habs, the other not), and a pitcher filled with ice and reusable water bottles in the other.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you were fixing up the backyard!” It looks – completely different from any iteration of it he had ever seen. The only benchmark that reminds him that this was Étienne’s backyard is the giant maple tree in the far back, proving part of the yard with shade, the fence, the shed and the overall layout of the yard. Other than that, Edward could have passed it off as someone else’s place.

“Ah, yeah, well, I figured I might as well invest in this place. I mean – it’s nice to have a decent place where you can unwind – or something?” He sounds a little unsure of himself, almost as if he’s embarrassed, as he puts the water and the towels down.

There hadn’t been much to this space, back when Edward had visited it often. The shed, a rickety old white plastic table, two mismatched chairs, and an ashtray. The grass and whatever other greenery had been left at the mercy of Mother Nature and had suffered through heat waves and droughts alike. However, now, it’s lush, verdant and well maintained. Even the old tree looks in better shape than it ever did.

There’s a small garden, by the looks of it, where once there’d been a half dead shrub, alongside the fence. It seems as though a small fruit tree has been added at the end of it, but it’s still too soon and he’s still too far to be able to tell what fruit it will bear. Even the shed, despite being the same as it was twenty years ago, seems to have gotten a second life, but it may just be the roof shingles that have been changed. There’s been laborious work put into this yard and it doesn’t stop there.

The pool, on the other side, is obviously the biggest novelty to the place. An idea, much like many other people, born from last year’s lockdown that Étienne had decided to splurge on. He’d picked a semi-in ground pool and even though it isn’t the biggest of pools, it certainly would do the trick during the hot summer days. And of course, because it’s Étienne, he’d gone for a unique shape that fits perfectly with his backyard. There’d been more than one video call made from the comforts of his new pool and Edward had dreamed of being able to jump in it, while he’d suffered through the heat wave just last week.

Back on the patio section, Étienne had finally retired his old table and chairs and had invested in something nicer that could accommodate a bigger crowd. The table and chairs seem sturdier and even more comfortable. The entire patio section, which is shaded off thanks to Étienne’s upstairs tenant own patio, has an air of coziness and comfort. He could easily picture his boyfriend lounging on his outdoor couch and start a small fire at night in his outdoor fireplace, or pull out the hammock in the sunnier section to lay in it, or maybe even sit in those impossible positions he often takes in his egg shaped hanging chair.

“Life’s too short to have a shitty backyard,” He jokes and Edward looks back to his boyfriend and smiles softly at him. He sees beyond only this investment, but also sees how Étienne’s been slowly reinvesting in his own city in his own way. It’s still a work in progress, but Edward knows how careful Étienne has been in reinventing his own city. He’s proud – of him and of the progress he’s made and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever find the right words to express just how proud he is of Étienne.

“Are those wild roses?” He asks to deflect from his own thoughts and emotions, as he makes his way closer to the plants and greenery that Étienne has planted, “And – marigolds?” He turns to face his boyfriend, disbelief evident as he takes in stock of what it is that’s been planted and that is growing. Once more, it seems, Étienne has managed to surprise him in his own way, with these quiet skills he’s kept to himself after all these years.

“Maybe,” Étienne teases and joins his side. If his cheeks are a little pink, neither comment on it for now, “If it makes you feel better, I have the obligatory irises growing as well – their blooming season is over though.”

They laugh, at the ridiculousness of the statement and stand side by side to watch the leaves sway gently in the breeze.

“I realised,” Étienne starts again softly, playing with the string of his bathing suit, “That I enjoy puttering in the backyard. I don’t mind getting my hands dirty and it gives me something to focus on that isn’t one of the millions of problems running free in my head. It – grounds me, pardon the pun.” He puffs, self-amused and Edward takes his hand and laces their fingers together.

“If you enjoy it, then I say, go for it.”

Étienne gives him a brilliant smile in exchange and Edward’s insides go soft at the sight.

He gets it though, the sometimes-mindless work of tending a garden that somehow takes you out of your own head. It’s why he’s always liked it. Gets him to think about what he’s doing and watching the garden grow and take shape is rewarding in its own way. Even if there are some issues he cannot fix in the world, he can still tend to his garden and watch it thrive and grow – problem solve when needed and see it flourish. He gets it, really.

“So, how about that swim?” He asks, before the moment can grow heavy and change into something else entirely different. Étienne tugs on his hand gently and leads him back to where the pool eagerly awaits for them.

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #fic #projocanondoko

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wonderrdies · 4 years

Text

fine line

summary: Boy and girl meet. Boy and girl fall in love. Boy and girl live happily ever after. Except boy is Harry Styles and even when love comes easy, it doesn’t come simple.

disclaimer: this is my first harry fic ever so... how terrifying. also, it is pure self-indulgent garbage and I Frankenstein-ed the shit out of it a dozen times so y’all are gonna have to forgive me. let’s do this. (btw thank you to @hsogolden for this challenge; there’s nothing quite like a goal that makes you force yourself to write)

warnings: some fluff, some angst, a tiny bit of smut and a whole lotta nonsense.

word-count: about 6,000 words

“Come on,” She yells up the stairs. “Daddy’s here!”

“Coming!” the four-year-old yells back, sock-clad feet hitting the stairs with a muffled thud.

“Jamie,” Harry calls, not as loud as they are. He knows his son can’t see him, but surely he can hear his voice; it’s not the biggest of houses. “Don’t run down the stairs. It’s dangerous.”

A quiet and frustrated okay, Daddy is heard in the background, and both the adults smile softly. Jamie’s a cute kid.

“I’m dropping him off at my mum’s and I’ll be back in a couple of hours, okay?”

She raises an eyebrow. “It’s Tuesday night. Don’t you have a song to write or whatever?”

“Can’t really miss my girl’s birthday, can I?”

She laughs, surprised, and the sound of it reminds Harry of the shy girl he met at a bar all those years ago. “It’s not my birthday yet, H.”

“Still,” Harry takes a second to look behind her and check on their son, who’s putting on his shoes while his backpack and a few toys are scattered around him. “Need any help, mate?”

Jamie mutters an agreement so She shifts in the door to let Harry in, and his own face stares back at him from a bunch of family pictures all over the shelves. He kneels beside his child and starts mindlessly tying his shoelaces, turning his attention back to her.

“You should dress up.”

“Harry,” she scoffs. “Is that an insult?”

“Nope,” he pops the p just as he finishes with Jamie’s shoes. “Get your stuff, Jamie. Let’s go see Nana.”

“Can we get milkshakes?”

“Sure, mate,” but She’s glaring at him. “Tomorrow, when it’s not so late, though.”

“But Daddy—”

“Tomorrow, baby.” She interrupts. With a kiss on their son’s brown curls, she says: “Go wait for Daddy in the car. And behave at your Nana’s. I love you.”

Jamie walks away with a “Love you, Mommy”, stuffed kitten under one of his arms and his half-closed backpack hanging on the other. Harry bends over to pick up his other toys but She stops him with a gesture. “Don’t bother, H. I’ll clean it up once you’re gone.”

“I was gonna take them with us.”

“It’s just one night, he won’t miss them,” She pauses. “Too much.”

“Guess mum will just have to entertain him, then,” he drops the toys on the couch and smiles at her. “Be ready, huh? I’ll text you when I’m near.”

“Okay. Where are we going?”

“Let’s get a drink. For old time’s sake.”

She nods, looking suspicious. Then his fingertips brush her cheek and her eyes soften.

“Let’s just not get wasted on a school-night, okay?”

“We’ll be alright, love,” he says, kissing the soft cheek he just touched. It feels like home against Harry’s lips.

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

7 years earlier…

Harry doesn’t notice her for a while. They’re both sitting at the bar counter, only one empty stool between the two of them, but the lighting is dim and the girl looks as closed off as one can get; stiff posture and hair hanging over her face while she stares straight ahead into the liquor shelf behind the bartender. Up until that point, she could be furniture for all he cares.

Tonight, up until that point, he had been reveling in his loneliness. Harry wasn’t one to enjoy being alone much, but after months of touring, family holidays, and being surrounded by more people than he can even imagine at any given time, he got the appeal of listening to his own thoughts for a while. Even if it made him a little restless after a few weeks of it. Even if he caught himself with his mouth open, about to make a random remark on the cute bartender or the questionable music at least twice. Even if he bounced his leg nonstop and grabbed his phone every five minutes, pondering on who to call for company.

So maybe he wasn’t reveling in the loneliness anymore. But he had dressed as ordinarily as humanly possible without wearing jeans (there were no pearls or high-heeled boots in sight) and was drinking beer instead of a Cosmo, blending in. He had to make the most of it. What could he tell himself that he didn’t already know? Maybe, Harry thought, I’m just not that interesting. If he couldn’t stand to spend half an hour hanging out with himself, had people been lying to him? He could feel the spiraling begin.

And then his song starts playing.

At the sound of his voice coming from the speakers, she turns her head. Her hair moves away with the movement, the corner of her lips twitching as if she’s about to smile. She doesn’t, but that’s when Harry notices her. The girl’s mouth moves and he’s pretty sure that if he were just a little bit closer, there’d be a faint whisper of stop your crying, baby, it’s a sign of the times. He wishes he could hear it.

He continues to shoot sideway glances, not wanting to make her uncomfortable by staring. He’s not sure he wants to be noticed, either. She’s a pretty girl singing along to one of his songs; there are many of those. He doesn’t really want to make a scene. But then again, what’s the chance that this woman won’t turn her head at all for however long they’re there?

Before he can worry about that answer, it happens. The bartender is cleaning the end of the counter to Harry’s right, and she shifts to order another drink. As soon as she does, their eyes meet. It doesn’t matter that he’s wearing a baseball hat or a beige knitted sweater and black slacks, she knows he’s Harry Styles. The more the thinks about it, the more self-conscious he becomes. Of course he’s hiding something; who wears that kind of outfit to a bar?

“Hey,” he softly says. He’s not sure how this will go, but so far it feels better than trying to entertain himself. Better than wondering.

Her hand shakes around the glass, empty except for the lime and melting ice, but her voice doesn’t quiver. “Hello.”

“Can I get your drink for you?”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s fine,” he calls over the bartender. “Can we get another of what she’s having? And a Cosmo.”

What the hell, he figures. It’s not like any of the few middle-aged people in tables around them will see a pink cocktail and suddenly wonder “Isn’t that…?”. Either they recognize him or don’t. When the bartender nods, he turns back to her.

“You’re not from here, are you?”

She shakes her head no.

“America?”

“Not the United States, no.”

He’s about to guess Canada, even if her accent doesn’t sound like that at all, and make a fool out of himself when she says: “I’m not a native English speaker. I teach English back home.”

“Really!” his excitement is the first thing to get a smile out of her. It kinda throws him off for a second; it comes and goes quickly, but her whole face changes around it. Looking away for a second, he notices that their drinks are about to be ready. “Can I —” Harry gestures to the stool between them.

The girl nods, and he comes closer. Their knees touch when he sits.

“Are you here for work?”

“No,” the side of her mouth twitches again. “What about you?”

“I’m home. Just taking some time off.”

“At this time of the year? Sounds like a cool job.”

It’s a bad joke, but he plays into it anyway. “Meh,” Harry shrugs. “It pays the bills.”

“Good for you,” she laughs quietly. “I got this trip for my birthday.”

“Well, happy birthday!”

“It’s not today.”

The bartender places their drinks on the counter, the liquid sloshing around a bit, and a little bit of her gin and tonic spills over her hand. “God,” the bartender says. “Sorry, I’ll get—”

“Don’t worry,” she smiles as if to say it’s okay. Then she licks the back of her hand and then her lips. Harry moves uncomfortably in his seat.

“So,” he says once the bartender leaves, taking a sip of his Cosmopolitan. Way better than that shitty beer. “Am I the first or last person to wish you a happy birthday?”

“First. I’ll turn twenty-two in two days.”

“It was an honor to get it wrong, then.”

“Not very subtle, are you?”

He blushes. Actually blushes.

There’s a silent beat where she seems torn between laughing awkwardly or just straight up bolting out of the room, but the girl settles on chugging her cocktail while Harry stutters.

“I’m —” they start at the same time.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t —” he stops himself from saying he didn’t mean to flirt. He did mean to flirt. Harry just didn’t mean to be so shit at it. So he settles for: “I just noticed you singing along.”

She brings her drink back to her lips, as if asking for some time to think of what to say, but half a cocktail isn’t enough to hide her smile. He’s staring so intently that she tips the glass towards him and genuinely asks “Do you want a sip?”

Harry just shakes his head no.

“Um, yeah,” the girl starts. “I’m a big fan of yours— your work, I guess.”

“Did you go to any of the shows last year?”

“I couldn’t,” she admits. “But I’ve seen some videos. You looked like you were having fun.”

The comment makes him smile. “I really was. Where are you from? Didn’t I go to your country?”

He realizes then that he sounds pretentious. Maybe she just didn’t want to go to the fucking concert; why is he questioning this stranger as if she’s missed his sweet sixteen? Maybe she’s not even a fan and just heard his single on the radio once. God, what a disaster.

The girl looks embarrassed, like she can’t believe she’s telling him this but won’t shy away from speaking. She tells him the name of her country and explains that she doesn’t live anywhere near the big cities where he played, so she couldn’t afford the trip.

“But if you’re ever passing by again…”

“I’ll let you know,” he says. She laughs quietly, but Harry isn’t really joking. He can see himself texting a nice girl and asking her to come and watch him sing. He’s certainly more impressive up on the stage than here, doing whatever it is that he’s doing right now. “Are you traveling by yourself?”

She hesitates to answer and it makes him cringe. “I sounded like a creep, didn’t I? Jesus. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

“Don’t worry about it,” and there it is again, the wide smile that changes her face. Out of all the things Harry Styles could do to charm a woman, acting socially inept isn’t the one he figured would win over a foreign English teacher that hangs out at random London bars for middle-aged couples on awkward dates. But here they are and the more he fucks up, the more she looks relaxed.

Harry decides to take what he can get. “I guess I haven’t been getting enough practice talking to strangers lately.”

She’s still smiling, not as wide but just as bright. “I’d probably want a break from people too if I were you. I got here yesterday and I’m already done talking to strangers. I knew it’d be hard to get around in another continent but this is a whole other level; I can’t walk two meters without asking someone for directions.”

He raises an eyebrow, teasing. “Is Google Maps not doing it for you?”

“Shut up,” she chuckles. “Data is expensive abroad, y’know? But to be honest, I’m so fucking obtuse when it comes to maps. The thing is pointing one way and the next I know, I walked miles in the opposite direction. It’s much easier to have an actual person telling me where to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, licking his lips after finishing his drink. He sees her eyes flicker down to his mouth for a second, just like his did a few minutes ago. “You have a point.”

“I do?”

“Not really. I just didn’t want you to feel bad about being a confused old lady.”

That makes her laugh, and Harry feels his heart skip a beat. It’s nice to know she thinks he’s funny.

“But you can’t really be a confused old lady, right? Being a teacher and all.”

Like she said, not subtle at all. But he wants to know more about her.

“Bold of you to assume that most teachers are not confused old ladies, but,” she too finishes her second cocktail, pushing her empty glass away from her and closer to the one Harry just left on the counter. “I’m just a confused masters-student trying to look less confused so my students won’t give me shit about it.”

“Do you like it? The whole academic thing and teaching.”

Her smile is soft around the edges, and he can see the drinks catching up to her. “They have their moments, both working hard to understand the things I’m interested in and helping people learn another language. It’s all hard but worth it,” she’s quiet for a second. “Like most things in life, I guess. What about you?”

“Do I like being an academic?”

She rolls her eyes. “Your job, silly. Is it hard but worth it?”

“I guess it’s like yours in the sense that it helps me understand the thing I’m interested in, too.”

“Music?”

“Me,” he answers, and there is that laugh again.

“God,” she says, voice dripping with good-humored sarcasm. “I hate rockstars so much.”

“Don’t we all?” he sees her staring at their empty glasses, so he offers to buy her another drink even though she looks sleepy. Harry figures he’ll drop her off wherever she’s staying so she doesn't have to walk around alone and drunk.

“I don’t think I can do another one,” she says. “But maybe we could share it? I can definitely deal with half a drink. And I’ll pay for it.”

Before he can say anything, she calls the bartender over and orders another Cosmo on her tab.

“You didn’t have to,” he says, referring both to paying and asking for a cocktail she knows he likes.

“Don’t worry about it,” he thinks it’s probably the fifth time she’s said that in not even an hour. Huh. “God, isn’t it stuffy in here?”

He doesn't think so, so it’s probably the alcohol, but he agrees while she shakes off her coat. When the girl turns so she can hang the fabric over her bar stool, Harry can see, among other quotes and drawings on her arm, the words sweet creature above her right elbow.

“Nice tattoo,” he comments, feeling weirdly proud. It’s not like he doesn’t know hundreds of people get the words he sings on their bodies, but this is different. It’s like trying to know more about someone and realizing, somehow, you already do.

“Which one?” she asks. He reaches out and brushes his fingers over it. It gives her goosebumps. “Oh. It’s a nice song.”

“Why did you get it?”

It makes him feel like an annoying interviewer, trying to get a meaningful answer that isn’t necessarily there. But he’d still like to hear what she has to say.

“I’ve heard I’m not one of those,” is her answer. His hand drops from her elbow.

He frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been told I’m not the sweetest creature,” the smile is gone. She shifts in her seat as if just realizing an old bruise is still tender to the touch.

Before he can decide between asking more about it and risk her thinking he’s a nosy asshole or just give his uninformed opinion and claim that’s bullshit, a Cosmopolitan is put on the bar between them.

“Thank you,” she says to the bartender. He’d thank them too, but he’s staring at that suddenly serious face, wondering what else is there to know about that tattoo. About her.

“Doesn’t it become a reminder, though?” Harry asks, and she looks back at him, not understanding the question. “The tattoo. Doesn’t it remind you that someone feels that way about you?”

“Yeah, I guess” she takes a sip of the drink and slides it over to him, their fingers touching in the process; it’s only for a second, and her hand is gone before Harry can understand why he wishes it wasn’t. “But I got it so, when I think of how he saw me, I would know I’m the one who gets to say what I am or am not.”

Harry is curious but doesn’t really know what to say to that, and it shows. She cringes.

“I always do this, you know? I drink and start getting all sad and telling people about all sorts of stuff no one wants to know. I’m sorry, Harry.”

It’s the first time he’s heard say his name. It sounds good on her accent.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, and it makes her smile because she realizes he’s been paying attention.

They share one more drink, and Harry pays for the third Cosmo of the night. By the time they’re finished with it, both of them are giggling and he has one of his hands on her bare knee. After the slightly-awkward oversharing, she proceeded to point out how a couple on the dark corner of the bar seemed, judging by their uncomfortable silence and resentful faces, to be on the brink of divorce. Harry asked her, mostly joking, if she had been around a lot of divorcing couples; she chuckled and then commented on how a dude sitting by the restrooms was probably fingering his girlfriend under the table. She never said no or proved to know about his family by asking him the same thing back.

But now the whole divorce thing was long forgotten. She and Harry had spent the last hour making up the most obnoxious stories about other customers and whispering them to each other, bodies getting closer and closer every minute.

“You know what I want?” she mutters. Between being shorter than Harry and slouching on her seat, her lips don’t reach his ear, so he can feel her breath on the side of his neck. He shivers.

“What?” he asks in the same low tone, eyes glittering with mischief and tipsiness.

Her left hand grips his bicep while she practically purrs: “I really want a milkshake.”

From the way his drunken-self gasps and moans God, yes, she might as well have said that she really wanted to suck his dick.

They pay for their drinks, shared or otherwise, and leave the bar. There aren’t many people out on the street at 1 a.m, but Harry still pulls his hat down a little.

“So,” she says. “Should I get us an uber? Where do British people get milkshakes? Is it far?”

“I’ll just call a driver.”

She looks taken aback. “Like a private one?”

Harry nods. “He’ll be here in a minute.”

And he is. She stumbles into the car along with Harry, sluggishly laying her head on his shoulder after closing the door.

“You didn’t tell me your name,” he murmurs against her hair.

So she does.

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

Between dinner, a few drinks and all the talking, they had already broken the not-staying-out-too-late rule. Turns out that rehashing a few days’ worth of parenting, teaching and music producing is time consuming even when you’re not having this much fun.

“One more?” Harry asks, pointing to her empty gin and tonic glass, the shadow of laughter still on his lips after a solid fifteen minutes of her getting progressively more aggravated about a student that “couldn’t, to save his own life, make anyone believe he read The Color Purple”.

“Yeah,” she says. “Share it with me?”

“Sure, love.”

He orders another cocktail, and She smiles at him even while thanking the waitress.

“What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” She replies, still staring shamelessly. It’s easy after all these years. “You just look really good.”

“So do you.”

She shrugs, and before he can say that she really does look beautiful and that he wishes he could prove to her just how much he thinks so (which is a cheap but sure way of making her blush), the waitress places the new cocktail between them.

“God, that was fast,” She mumbles, impressed.

After She takes the first sip, they both start at the same time. “So—”

They giggle, but since She begins sipping again, Harry speaks.

“We’ll both have a couple of months off during the summer, so I was thinking… You could go home.”

“Yeah, I should start planning once the semester ends, I’m just so—” She sighs, and Harry understands.

“I figured you could go and spend the first few weeks, or even the first month, back home while Jamie and I do our thing.” She looks like she’s about to interrupt him, so he holds up a hand as if asking her to wait. “Hear me out. You go home, spend time with your family or your old friends or, y’know, yourself, because — and don’t even fight me on this — I know you need your alone time. And after you’ve had your break, we’ll meet you there and hang out until you need to get back to prepare for next semester and I need to sort things out for the tour. You can even go somewhere else by yourself before going home or we could do a family thing before coming back to the UK if you and Jamie want to. How does that sound?”

She doesn’t say a thing, doesn’t even smile. She just keeps looking at him while sliding the gin and tonic glass across the table so he can have his share. Harry takes two big gulps and waits for her to speak.

“I don’t—” She stops herself. “You thought of it all, didn’t you?”

“I tried,” he laces his fingers through hers. “So you wouldn’t have to. But, y’know, it’s just an idea. And I thought it’d be better if I brought it up early so we could plan everything properly and, in case you didn’t want help paying for them, the plane tickets wouldn’t cost you an arm and a leg.”

Still silent, She looks down at their joint hands.

“Thank you, H.”

“I didn’t do anything, love.”

He touches her chin so that She’ll look him in the eyes.

“I love you,” Harry whispers.

She doesn’t have to say it too. He knows.

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

6 years earlier…

“Hey, love,” Harry whispers from the other side of the phone call. “How are things?”

She smiles a tired smile up at her dark ceiling at the sound of his voice. “Things are…” The smile fades, replaced by a shaky sigh. “Things are fine, H.”

She means things are like they have been for as long as she can remember. Difficult. A shit-paying job where she feels like a failure most of the time, too much school work, family drama and all sorts of friendship insecurities. There are good days of course, but today just isn’t one of them. She didn’t want to ruin his call, the only silver lining of the night, by complaining. So things are fine.

“What about you? Is everything good over there?”

“Everything’s great. Had some really good wine earlier today, reminded me of you. You would��ve loved it.”

“Bet you were in a villa, feeling the breeze on your hair, staring at a gorgeous canal or some fancy shit like that,” she jokes.

Harry laughs. “Yeah,” is his answer.

Oh.

“I kinda wanted to talk to you about that, actually.”

“About what?”

She sits up on the bed, her room quiet except for the shifting of her body over the clothes she took off but didn’t bother to fold before laying down after work.

“You should come,” he answers on the phone.

“What?”

“To Italy.”

“Baby—”

“Come on, love. You always wanted to travel here. Come meet me.”

“Harry,” she sighs. “You’re insane.”

She can picture his face falling just by the sound of his voice. “Why?”

“It’s the middle of September; I’m working, I’m studying. I can’t even afford it. Do you need any more reasons?”

Harry sounds frustrated when he answers, and it brings tears to her eyes. So much for a silver lining. “You can take a day or two off, right? Or just stay the weekend. You know I’ll pay for your flight.”

“Baby,” she takes a deep breath, trying to not let her annoyance show. “I’m almost finished with my master’s; I won’t get it done by missing classes. And yes, you’ll pay for my flight, but that’s not the only expense that goes into traveling and I won’t depend on your money. You know this. We can go when there’s a holiday here. Or mid-December, when the semester is over. I’ll have saved some money by then. I love you for thinking of me but… I can’t, H. Not now.”

He mumbles something under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I didn’t hear you,” but she knows he did it on purpose. “Can you say that again, please?”

“I said you’re making up excuses.”

‘You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I’m serious! You won’t even try.”

“How am I supposed to try? Either I can or can’t go. And I can’t.”

“You won’t even consider it,” his voice is filled with disappointment. It makes her blood boil.

“Harry, you sound like a child. Listen to me. Even if I went only for the weekend, I’d waste almost an entire day flying back and forth. We wouldn’t even have twenty-four hours together.”

“Don’t you think that sounds better than not being together at all?”

“I bet it does sound better for you, sitting your ass in a gondola, eating your rich-people cheese with your snobby friends, thinking of lyrics about fucking a girl that second-guesses putting you before herself while said girl is out there, flying to you so she can have a hug and a kiss and pretend that everything is fine.”

She’s crying by the time she stops talking, and she knows he can hear it. While she sobs, mostly angry but also starting to regret saying anything at all, he doesn’t say a thing. He could have stopped breathing altogether, considering how quiet the other end of the line is.

“Harry?” she half-pleads, half-scolds. “Talk to me!”

“I’m sorry,” his voice is uncertain, like he can’t quite figure out what to say and how to say it. “I guess I— I miss you. I’m being a prick.”

The weigh on her chest doesn’t go away with the apology, because she doesn’t know if he understands. And she just called his friends snobby and said she pretends to be happy. God. But she can’t say she’s sorry too because she won’t stop crying. She’s just so tired.

“Love,” Harry says, firmly this time. “Don’t cry, it’s okay. Have some sleep. Drink some water. We’ll talk properly tomorrow.”

“No,” she hiccups into the phone. “Wait. I’m—”

“We’ll talk, I promise,” she thinks he’ll hang up then when he hesitates, but he speaks again. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

The line goes dead. She cries herself to sleep.

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

"God," he pants against her bruised neck.

“What?” She teases. “Are you getting too old for this?”

“Shut up,” Harry laughs, still breathless. “I’m barely in my mid-thirties.” He pushes the sheets away and gets up, looking down at her naked body sprawled across the bed; if he wasn’t so tired, he’d be horny again. “Want some water?”

“Yeah. Thanks, baby.”

He walks out of the bedroom wearing absolutely nothing, which is one of the perks of a child-free house. By the time he’s back with their water, She’s wearing his teal button-up and brushing her teeth, messy natural hair framing her face.

“H,” she calls from the suite’s bathroom, speech slurred because of the toothbrush. She spits before continuing, “Can you sing me a song?”

Harry chugs his water and lays back on the bed, waiting for her without saying a word.

“Can you?” She asks again, climbing on the bed in all fours, hovering over him. “Can you?” A whisper against his mouth. But when he leans over for a kiss, she falls to the bed, suddenly grinning, and hugs his side. “Come on.”

“Such a tease,” he mumbles, already hugging her back and tangling his legs with hers.

Harry starts singing quietly, voice still a little rough even after the water, and he can feel her smiling lips against his chest.

Wise men say only fools rush in

But I can't help falling in love with you…

“How romantic,” she says quietly once he’s done.

“That’s me, only doing the best for my girl” he says smugly, which makes her laugh, but then he turns serious. “I love you, you know?”

“Love you too, H.”

Harry takes a deep breath. “Can I ask you a question?”

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

5 years earlier…

The paparazzi call her name on screen. There are not many of them, but it disturbs Harry nonetheless; three or four photographers outside a restaurant, just waiting for her and yelling at her once she walks out the door. She looks nervous in a way Harry can imagine other people not noticing, fidgeting hands and a fast walk. But her face is serious and dismissive while she walks straight ahead.

“Are you Harry Styles’ new girlfriend?” one of them asks from behind the camera.

Harry pauses the video, telling himself he needs to ask someone on his team how the hell they found out who she is just by a blurry picture taken through his car window a few days ago when she’s not even on social media, which is true. But he’s also not sure he wants to hear her answer. He checks the time under the video; it was posted less than an hour ago. He should call her and ask if everything’s okay, but he just presses play again.

“No,” she answers right away. Harry feels like he’s sinking.

Why the fuck did they not discuss this before she moved to England? What was he thinking when he resisted PR’s involvement? They should’ve planned for this, coordinated answers, made up their minds so he wouldn’t feel sucker-punched and she wouldn’t be thrusted into the spotlight with no warning.

“You were in his car last Monday!” someone says, as if telling her she’s a liar.

She doesn’t bother responding to that. They keep calling her name.

“What are you and Harry, then?”

She’s almost down the subway’s stairs and there’s not many seconds left in the video, so he’s not too worried about what happens next. Harry looks at his phone, expecting her to disappear from the frame so he can text her and ask her to come over so they can talk, so he can hold her and make sure she’s not freaking out. But she slows down, considering the person’s question. She turns her head to a camera somewhere to the right of the video he’s watching, curls falling down the side of her face.

Matter-of-factly, with amused eyes but no smile, she says: “Soulmates.” And then she’s down the stairs and the video ends.

Harry stays very still. Text notifications appear over and over, more than one person saying the same thing: apparently they found her on her university’s website, where she’s listed as a doctoral student. He doesn’t open the messages, though; doesn’t even breathe until there’s a knock at the door.

Everyone else just rings the bell or asks to be buzzed in. It’s her.

Harry walks to the door, bare feet sliding on the wooden floors, and opens it. She’s standing in front of him dressed in the same black skirt and pink sweater from the video, hair messy around her serious face.

“H,” she starts. The sound of her voice relieves most of the pressure in his chest. “I—”

He doesn’t let her finish; just kisses her like he would kiss a soulmate. She steps forward, dropping her bag and closing the door with one hand while the other busies itself holding onto the soft cotton of Harry’s worn T-shirt, the feeling of his tongue against hers making her dizzy.

They stumble into the couch, her hips sitting on top of his, breathing heavily against each other’s lips. Harry takes longer than necessary stripping her of her sweater, gripping every inch of exposed skin as if he could keep it to himself. “Harry,” She whispers, asking him to hurry. The pink fabric falls to the floor and his right hand instantly pulls at her hair, her back arching so he can get one of her nipples on his mouth. “Harry,” She breathes out again, tortured, and a careless move of her hips makes them both gasp. The hand that’s not tangled in her hair squeezes her tight so hard they’re both sure it’ll bruise.

“Lay back,” he says before sucking on her other nipple, teeth grazing her skin and making her grind into him with more purpose. Despite his words, Harry doesn’t move so she can do what he’s telling her to. “I want to—” he bites her shoulder, hard, “see if—” sucks a mark into the side of her breast, “you can move like that on my face.”

She moans at his words, his mouth, his hand on her hair, tightening by the second.

“No,” she licks her lips, but never finishes the thought. Her hand drops to the one he has on her tight and squeezes it. “Can you—”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, letting go of her thigh. His hand disappears beneath her skirt, and she can feel him pushing her panties out of the way. He swipes a finger against her so lightly she can barely feel it. “Is that what you want?”

“More.”

She lifts her hips, trying to get more friction on his hand. “Come on.”

Harry slides one finger into her, then another. Her mouth falls open in a silent gasp, and she feels like she’s stopped breathing altogether once he fucks into her fast and hard, thumb brushing against her clit.

“Kiss me,” she whimpers, riding his fingers frantically, the sweat dripping down her torso sticking to Harry’s T-shirt.

Their mouths meet at the same time he squeezes a third finger into her. She moans against his lips and holds his waist under his clothes, seemingly undecided between tugging at his shirt or his belt.

“H, let me,” she murmurs the words into his lips, still pulling at his clothes.

“No,” he sounds as wrecked as she does, which is saying a lot. “Cum for me first.”

Harry stops moving his hand, tries to tease her, but she barely seems to notice, moving so desperately that he hits all the right places without even trying. With a sob, she squeezes tight around his fingers and rides out her high while clinging to Harry for dear life.

Her head falls to his shoulder, face hiding behind her hair and in his neck.

“Good?” he asks, voice raspy, wiping his soaked fingers on the side of his pants.

She doesn’t say anything for a second, just breathing hard into his skin, then sobs again. Not with pleasure.

“Love?” Harry questions in worry. “What’s wrong?”

Her body starts to shake in his arms, tears mixing with the sweat on his T-shirt’s collar. He calls her name, scared out of his mind with what this could mean. Did she come here to say she couldn’t do this anymore? He didn’t let her say a thing before kissing her. He should’ve listened, should’ve waited, should’ve asked her what ‘soulmate’ meant when it couldn’t mean ‘girlfriend’.

“I’m sorry,” she hiccups, hugging him closer even though there’s not any space between their bodies.

“What are you sorry for?” he asks quietly.

“I know this is freaking you out. I just—” and then she’s sobbing again.

“Talk to me,” Harry begs.

“I love you so much, H,” he could feel the but at the end of the sentence.

“I love you too…” he swallows before asking, “Is this about the photographers? Are you upset they were around? ‘Cause we can fix that.”

She looks up at him, the tip of their noses touching. With furrowed brows and swollen eyes, she mumbles, “You gonna have them killed or somethin’?”

He’d laugh if he could. “Not really. I’ll do something, though. Whatever it is you need me to do.”

She rests her chin on his shoulder so he can’t look her in the eyes. In a whisper, she asks: “Can you freeze us in time?”

“What?”

“I’m scared we’ll lose this,” She confesses. “I’m so in love with you, Harry and I— I don’t want us to be boyfriend and girlfriend the way I’ve learned it, owing each other and the world explanations and parts of ourselves. I want us to choose to love each other every day because we can’t help but do so — a forever that looks like the way you offered me a drink, the way you flew out to meet me after our fight and promised we’d do better, the way you kissed me today; like it’s not simple but it’s easy. ”

Harry stays silent for a while.

“I’m sorry if it makes no sense,” her voice shakes. “I think I’m just desperate not to lose myself in you while getting to keep you and— I don’t know, it doesn’t sound as reasonable as I thought it would.”

He whispers her name.

“Yeah?”

“Being with you forever, one day at a time, sounds reasonable to me.”

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

“Do you want to marry me?”

“What?”

“Marry me, love,” he laughs softly. “Do you want to?”

She’s silent, tear-filled eyes staring up at him.

“You know how I knew it was time?” Harry asks, still in a low voice like they’re somewhere sacred. Home. “We built a family out of a promise we didn’t even have to make. A while ago, even before Jamie, you told me we shouldn't owe each other, and it’s true. I won’t ever ask you for anything you haven’t already given me, because that’s how you love me too. But I’ll ask for this because it’s ours and I know it’ll stay this way.”

They’re both crying, and her shaking hands try to wipe away his tears.

“I want to,” She says.

That sudden bright smile takes over her face like it did both years and minutes ago. It doesn’t take him by surprise anymore.

#FineLineFicChallenge #harry styles #fine line #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #hsogolden

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scorchviox · 4 years

Text

Your Touch [ShigarakixOC]: Chapter 7

Chapter Index

Three in the morning was said to be the witching hour. Spirits and restless ghosts were to be haunting those unfortunate enough to be awake at such an hour; however, neither of these swirled around the brunette cackling or taunting her. To her dismay, it was the sound of an extremely loud video game’s soundtrack that woke her up, lulled her to sleep, then startled her awake once again with intense music. It was a vicious cycle all throughout the night. Souseiki tried from wrapping her pillow around her head to ripping pieces of her sheets and stuffing them in her ear canal in an attempt to drown out the noise, neither helped. She had half a mind to get out of bed and demand whoever was playing to turn it off or at least use some headphones. In the end, she knew she was nowhere near confrontational, so she stayed put under the covers.

For the following four hours, Souseiki went in and out of sleep. Eventually, around seven in the morning, she decided to make an appearance in the common room. The brunette rubbed her irritated eyes as she walked down the hall and pushed the door open. “Morning,” she muttered in a tired tone. Once again, there was food on the counter, but this time Shigaraki was already present.

“You look like shit,” he deadpanned as he watched her occupy the seat at his side.

In response, Souseiki gave a small groan and began eating. He stared at her without restraint until she seemed to give in to the silent peer-pressure and gave an actual answer, “A bad spirit was haunting me last night. Couldn’t shake it,” she said picking at the rice on her plate.

A scoff rang through the room, then turned into a laugh, “You believe in ghosts? What are you? A child?”

Souseiki gripped her fork and gave a forced nod, “Maybe,” she said through gritted teeth before shoving food into her mouth to keep from making any unnecessary comments.

“Anyway, we’re going out,” he states as he grips the wooden counter with trembling limbs. His body screams fatigue, but he gives no indication of wanting to rest. Those bloodshot eyes seem to be stuck on the promise of a mission. His movements are slow and sluggish, but his aura says ‘I’m fine!’ with the tone dipped in authority. Shigaraki surely was someone that, despite his bratty attitude, completed tasks he needed to be done. “Are you going to keep staring at me like a dumbass or are you going to go get changed?”

Souseiki huffed and pushed herself up with the same fatigue, but with no determination. She followed the man with blue tresses out the door and down towards their respective rooms. From what she’s just witnessed, it was safe to assume that the ghost haunting her the night before was his doing, so why wasn’t he wanting to fall to the floor asleep like she was? He certainly was a force to be reckoned with if his own fatigue didn’t hinder him from moving forward with his day. On the other hand, she stood staring blankly at the bag on the floor full of her clothing. A stare as blank as a canvas watched the discarded items as if her nonexistent quirk would get her dressed. The brunette lazily tugged on a clean pair of jeans and a lightweight hoodie to hide her complexion from the crowds. Something told her today was going to be longer than it should be.

There was something about the way Shigaraki continued to fiddle with his hands within his pockets that made Souseiki far more nervous than she should have been. The duo currently walked through the streets of Musutafu with their hoods worn high on their head. Souseiki wore a mask over her face and glanced over to Shigaraki in concern. He wasn’t the most notorious fellow, but he was the oddest looking lad of the year. Anyone would look over to his complexion and stare in astonishment if they had the time of day. His lips were dry while the scratches under his eyes and along his neck were red and angry. The hood and those blue locks could only do so much to cover his features. “Where are we going?”

Shigaraki stared at the pavement as he walked, something about watching the cracks fall behind him with every step either piqued his interest or allowed him to calmly walk the streets without reliving a horrible past of gasps and dirty looks. “Kurogiri said we ran out of coffee,” he shrugs in reply. It was completely nonchalant and odd to think that was just it. Who would be fidgeting over such a mundane task? There had to be more to this, yet Souseiki didn’t voice any of her concerns as he leads the way into a convenience store. “He likes the shitty generic brand from this place for some reason,” he muttered looking down the aisles until he caught eye of the instant coffee mix. “One day,” he continued as he browsed the boxes on the shelves, “he wouldn’t talk to me for an entire day because I bought the wrong one,” he said reaching for a box.

“Don’t you think that’s a little silly?” She questioned watching him inspect the detailed ingredients on the item. “Too specific actually,” Souseiki added. The comment was more in accordance with his overly verbose behavior rather than the story.

“Tasted like shit,” He said walking past her and to the register to check out. “Personally, I thought all coffee tasted the same, but there’s just a way about how this one mixes well with those little boiling bubbles that make it taste really good.”

With the item paid, he handed the bag to her and they walked out. Souseiki pondered on the conversation as they walked further into the city. Shigaraki didn’t dwell any longer on it as he led the girl through an empty path. Two large buildings encased the sidewalk that held no other pedestrians. “I’m sorry, but am I the boiling water and you’re the shitty brown color?”

Such an outburst caused the blue-haired teen to halt and turn his entire attention to her, “What?” He spat out with a complexion twisted between disgust and confusion. “Are you stupid or something?”

The response caught her off guard and had embarrassment skidding its way across her nose leaving a red trail on its way. “I thought you were making an analogy,” she spoke in a meek voice as she shrunk back where she stood.

“I was telling you a story, idiot,” Shigaraki said with a scratch of his neck, “If I knew you were this dense I wouldn’t have said anything,” he mumbled. He turned down the street and left Souseiki standing against the building.

“Wait!”

Shigaraki looked over his shoulder, his crimson eyes shooting daggers in her direction; causing her to stay put in her spot. “Stay there!” He demanded after taking a few steps forward, then turning back to shout, “And that’s not a fucking analogy!” Before turning the corner and disappearing around the corner.

Souseiki stared wide-eyed after the man before leaning against the building. The thought of him having to run another errand on his own popped into her head, so she did as told. Her initial embarrassment was still visible and she ruthlessly tried to calm her blood cells as she shook her head. She could understand now why her friends use to want her to stop reading so many mystery books. Her conclusions were insanely out there if she thought too much. Instead, to clear her head she rummaged through her pocket and pulled out her phone. The data to her carrier had been long disconnected, so she relied on a nearby hotspot to scroll through news articles. Everything hero related, from All Might saving an entire burning apartment building to Midnight assisting some market festival, filled the media. She was no longer in the headlines.

“Who would even be out here? This is literally the boonies of this city,” groaned a voice down the path.

The footsteps grew closer causing Souseiki’s blood to run cold as she slowly looked up, “There was a call saying a suspicious person was hanging around here,” voiced another man. When she looked up her eyes met his, Seiichi, her older brother. Right at his side was Yuu as well. The two were decked out in their hero gear, no doubt patrolling together to kill time. “Oh, miss!” He called out seeing her. “We received a call concerning-”

His voice slowly drowned out as the ringing in her ears grew louder and he closer. She watched the two approach slowly as she took a step back. “Hey, she’s moving away,” Yuu muttered to his brother. Without another word the two closed in on Souseiki quicker and demanded her to stop unless she wanted to be apprehended.

She obeyed and stopped moving.

Seiichi’s brow creased as he secured eye contact, “Would you answer a few questions?” He asked. The two brothers awaited an answer, but nothing verbal was received. The brunette merely nodded and held onto the plastic bag with a tighter grip. “There was a call concerning a strange individual. We’re not saying it’s you, but we just need you to answer some simple questions. It’s just procedure,” Seiichi explained calmly with a reassuring smile, yet it did nothing to calm her nerves.

Where in the hell was Shigaraki?

Yuu stood beside his brother with arms akimbo, eyes narrowed and set on his sister. “You look familiar,” he remarked leaning forward to get a better view of her, “Holy shit, Souseiki?”

The two brothers stood waiting for her to decline such a statement or remove the mask to reveal her identity, but Souseiki was now focused on the figure standing behind the two. Shigaraki stood still between the two men. He now wore that dismembered hand on his face. “Yeah,” she muttered pulling down the mask without looking either brother in the eye. She was locked on Shigaraki, watching him raise his hands.

He was going to kill them.

“Isn’t this bad news?” Yuu asked with eyes trained on the youngest sibling, “If she’s alive then we’ll look like fools.”

“Better,” Seiichi said with a smile that could put any villain’s to shame, “It’d be a miracle. We’d get more press.”

Souseiki nodded, now looking at her brothers, “You know, I didn’t hate you guys all that much,” she said with a crack in her voice. “You two were okay,” The brunette smiled and waved a hand at the two, “I’ll see you around,” she said taking two large steps back.

Before either brother could reach out to her, a hand was placed at the nape of their necks. “It was nice meeting you,” Shigaraki muttered to the two as their bodies decayed in a matter of seconds. Their ashes, it seemed like, piled onto the pavement before her eyes. “You’d never kill a person?” Shigaraki asked taking the hand off his face and placing it in his pocket.

The brunette walked past him and said, “I didn’t kill anyone.”

#Shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki manga #shigaraki fanart #boku no hero academia shigaraki #shigaraki x oc #my hero academia shigaraki #bnha manga #bnha #mha manga #mha shigaraki #bnha shigaraki #fanfiction #shigaraki fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #league of villains

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softkent · 6 years

Text

snow, snuggles, and shitty

Kent Parson/Jack Zimmermann, Jack Zimmermann & Shitty Knight Rated M Tags: Snowed In, Injury Recovery, Anxiety, Coming Out, Temporary Mobility Aid Chapter 1/? 2.1k words

for @parsebingo squares snowed in, injury, recovery, shower sex, bed sharing.

read on ao3

Before the Aces announce Kent being put on IR, he texts Jack, asking if he could come for a quick visit while his knee rests. Of course Jack immediately thinks of how it would be to wake up next to Kenny again, to just be close to him, but his rational side speaks first.

Doesn't the team need your support? What about training? Kit needs--

Kent fields the questions sufficiently enough for Jack to concede. He books his flight before Jack can change his mind.

Jack isn't worried. Really. Everything is going to turn out fine. None of this is going to cause him any problems. Everyone won't think anything of Kent coming to visit him. The world knows they're friends. His friends know he and Kent are friends. No one will look beyond that.

Okay, Jack's worrying a little. He's talked things over with Kent, who reassured him for the hundredth time that things are gonna be fine, but Jack's anxiety didn't get the memo. He takes in a long breath through his nose and puffs it out through his mouth in a frustrated sigh.

With everyone else out for classes or studying, Jack has the Haus to himself, awaiting Kent's arrival. He’s picking away at the blanket covering the green couch waiting for Kent to knock on the front door. With each passing minute, Jack comes up with more reasons for Kent not to be here. He'll hate the Haus, the couch, berate Jack for using the roof as a room, and so on. He realizes all these passing problems aren't real. Kent wouldn't judge him.

A rapping on the door makes Jack jump out of his thoughts.

“Ziiiiiimms!” he can hear Kent whining a little muffled out on the porch. “I’m freezing out here!”

Jack gets up and jogs to the door. When he swings it open, a gust of biting wind blows into the house followed by a shivering Kent with the help of crutches. He watches as Kent bends down to unlace his boots.

“You’re the one that wanted to come visit me in winter,” he reminds him, reaching out to hold his shoulder when he sees Kent swaying a little with his weight on his bad knee. “Here, let me,” he says in a huff.

He bends down himself to untie the boot himself. Kent looks away from Jack’s ministrations and bites at his lip. If it weren’t for the cold outside, Jack thinks the pink on his cheeks is from the embarrassment of needing help.

“Thanks,” Kent whispers when Jack sets his boot beside the other near the other shoes littering the entrance way. “We, uh, we alone?”

Jack stands up, taking his time to let a smile spread across his lips when he’s looking down at Kent’s hazel eyes. He nods, knowing what’s coming. He throws his arms out to steady them both when Kent jumps forward, grabbing Jack’s face and bringing him down into a kiss.

Immediately, Jack is pulled back into the thousands of kisses they’ve shared over the years. Kent’s hands are cold, but sure holding his face like it’s something precious. They’re chests press firmly together. Jack bends down a little to make the reach easier on Kent with his one good leg. Jack’s chapped lips catch a little against Kent’s, but neither of them pay it any mind.

Kent pulls back enough to smile wide at Jack. He’s familiar with this look--so open and warm. Jack knows he looks the same--looks like he’s brimming with love. He leans in to press a peck to the corner of his smile.

“Thank you for coming,” Jack whispers to him and slips his hands firmly around his boyfriend’s middle--holding him close as he buries his face into his neck to breathe him in.

“Hey,” Kent says, patting Jack’s back. “Don’t mention it. This is a completely selfish trip.”

They laugh for a moment as they appreciate each other’s presence. Jack can’t remember the last winter he felt this warm. Jack’s foot nudges Kent’s bag, making a point and distracting him from the flood of butterflies in his stomach.

“Want me to get this upstairs? I can’t have you eating it trying to juggle things while climbing the stairs with that,” Jack explains, nodding to his crutches.

Kent rolls his eyes. “I got up that hell of a sidewalk all on my own, big guy, with ice! I think I can handle a few steps.”

Jack puts his hands up in defeat. “Alright. Guess you don’t need me to carry you up either, then.” His boyfriend’s eyes go wide for a second and he opens his mouth to protest. “No, no. It’s all good. You can handle yourself.”

“That was before I knew you carrying me was an option. You know how much I...enjoy you lifting me.”

“Or is it why I’m usually lifting you that you enjoy?” Jack asks, walking off into the living room.

Kent hobbles after him, scoffing. "Well, nobody told me that was on the table!"

He collides into Jack with groping, hopeful hands. Jack keeps their balance, again, and wonders if he'll end up getting injured himself before Kenny heads back to Las Vegas. He still wasn't sure how long Kent will be staying.

Like he'd suggested, Jack quickly bends his knees and gets his hands under Kent's ass. He lifts him up to wrap his legs around him, giving him ample time to steady himself without hurting his knee and starts walking up the stairs, duffle bag forgotten by the front door.

“Jackie-boy! You aren’t going to buh-lieeeeve what that white supremacist asshat said in class today,” Shitty yells once he’s inside the Haus, knocking the snow off his boots.

He looks up when he doesn’t get his usual hello. A few feet down the hall is a duffle bag next to a pair of crutches. He toes off his boots without bothering to unlace them and hops in stocking feet away from the entryway in an attempt to avoid wet socks.

Shitty peeks into the living room. Jack’s school stuff is on the coffee table with the TV off. He looks back to the duffle bag and crutches. On top of the bag, an Aces hat is resting upside down. One of Shitty’s eyebrows shoots up as a large smirk pulls up the corner of his mouth.

Before Shitty heads upstairs to put away all his class shit, he picks up the duffle bag and tucks it beside the stairs, out of the way, and picks up the crutches. Since nobody’s down here, whoever needs them is probably going to need them getting down here. Though he’s pretty sure he knows who must be up there with Jack, he doesn’t let himself fully think it. Jack’ll tell him, or he’ll find out eventually. No need to ponder it. He thinks about knocking on Jack’s closed door, but instead quietly leans the crutches beside it and tiptoes down to his door.

Jack wants to thank his therapist for suggesting he focus his schedule around morning classes. He knows it was meant to help him get up and out of the house first thing so he won't have time to dwell and build up his anxiety, still being partially asleep, but if one of the perks is the entire afternoon in bed with his boyfriend maybe he should send her some flowers...

"You sure you don't wanna do online school and come live with me?" Kent asks through his heavy breathing and blissed-out expression, laying naked and half on top of Jack. "I could get used to this."

Jack rolls his eyes and catches his own breath for a second. "You sure you don't want to get traded to the Falconers or something?" Jack asks with a smile, thinking back to all the times they've joked about this. "I could definitely get used to you being here."

Kent smacks what he can reach of Jack's ass and slides off of him onto the other side of the bed. He curses having forgotten to watch out for his leg and readjusts to stretch it out.

"Did you lie to me about the PT guy saying this was okay?"

"No! I would never lie about sex, Zimms."

"I meant coming here in the first place...Wait, did you really ask about sex?"

Kent laughs and nods. "Hell yeah, I did! Gotta ask the important questions: sex, showering, and driving. All of which are completely good-to-go."

Jack pulls Kent to him, letting him rest his head against his chest and places a quick kiss to the top of his messy, blond hair. "Does that mean you're ready to go again?"

Kent kisses Jack’s chest with a smile and licks his nipple in a fast, completely unsexy way. Jack finches away with an unexpected giggle, shielding his other nipple from Kent with his hand. From the glimmer in Kent’s eyes, he knows he’s a goner. Jack has never won a tickle fight in his life.

As the guys trickle on back home from a day of boring classes while they were wishing they were out playing in the snow or even just at home sleeping, the sky gets darker and the snow’s falling faster. When Holster stumbles in past the wind, the snow building in front of the porch is halfway up his shins.

Jack and Kent are warm up in bed with Jack’s laptop perched on his knees playing a cat video Kent insisted they had to watch before Jack could play another YouTube video in some series called Facts You Wish You Didn’t Know About Our Past Leaders.

Kent tells him again with deadly sincerity, “you can only go so far down to YouTube rabbithole before you come up for air and a good ole cat video and restart the cycle or you’ll end up watching some of the weirdest ever made by man at three am questioning reality.”

Jack’s giggles shake his stomach and computer so much the screen tips back so neither of them can see the video anymore, only causing his laughing to increase.

“You goober,” Kent chuckles and moves the laptop to the nightstand after pausing the video. “I think that’s enough of YouTube before we go insane.”

“Goober? Really?”

Kent tries to push Jack off the bed, but Jack grabs onto his arm. They shuffle back and forth for leverage until Kent tips backwards, head towards the floor, with Jack sliding over top of him. They’ve half laughing, half screaming when someone knocks on the door.

“You dyin’ in there?” Shitty yells through the bathroom door.

Jack tries to right himself, but Kenny slides out from under him to the side, causing Jack to slip onto the floor.

“Ow! Told you I’d end up injured! Nah, Shitty. Nobody’s dying!” Jack yells back to him.

He’s about to tell him to come in and say hi to Kent when he remembers their clothes are still next to his door instead of covering them up. He glances up to where Kent is sitting stark naked without a single iota of modesty, legs fully splayed, and stifling his laughter behind his hand.

Along his neck are a few red marks popping against his lightly tanned skin. A few streak trail down Kent’s chest where Jack’s fingernails traversed his body down to his hips earlier to get better leverage. In the back of his mind, he’s glad Kent won’t be stripping down in a locker room full of chirps and interns taking photos for social media.

“Alrighty, brah. What do you want for noms? Dining hall closed early ‘cause of the storm. I’m thinking pizza,” Shitty yells to him.

Kent looks at him expectantly. When Jack doesn’t answer straight away, he nods at him and motions to the door. Jack relents and tells Shitty they’ll be down soon.

“I thought you might want to avoid everybody for as long as you could…,” he mumbles while picking up his pants.

“Why would I do that? Hey, look at me…” Kent says, voice laced with concern. He waits until Jack turns back to him before he goes on, “I love you and am part of your life. I’m not going anywhere or trying to hide from your friends. I know you have good taste, so I’m sure we’ll get along.”

Jack looks away with a nod. The voice of his anxiety isn’t reality. Sometimes, it’s just so hard to separate the two. The nagging feeling that Kent’s just saying things to make him feel better sits in the back of his mind, but he choose to trust what he’s saying. Kent came all this way. He wouldn’t have done that just to hook up.

“Yeah, I know you’ll like ‘em.”

#check please #parsepositive #kent parson #parsebingo #edin writes #softkent

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ohheyits · 6 years

Text

Commission #1 Superhero Fight

Here’s the prompt I got from a super generous Anon: Tegan has superpower abilities, so does Sara but they both don't know about each others. They get in a fight.

If for some reason you aren’t happy with what I wrote send me a message with what you put in place of the first and last name so I know it’s you and then your grievance. I’ll do my best to fix it if it isn’t up to your expectations. Either way I hope this does your prompt and donation justice so I don’t have to!

I went for more of a fluff angle here so this is based in a more more pre-quincest era. Hope you still enjoy quindom!

Sara’s been patient, more than patient really. She’s asked Tegan three times now to turn down the stupid music she’s been blasting through the shitty computer speakers she’d bought at the thrift store to no avail. Sara’s tired of asking nicely, tired of taking Tegan’s moody shit. Some people want to get somewhere in life, like studying so they can get into a decent college instead of smoking weed all day even though their sister has asthma and is in the room right next door trying to do her homework.

Sara clenches her fists, trying to push down the urge to just punch Tegan right in the gut. Man would that feel good though, she muses, wrenching open her door and stomping back across the hall for the fourth time that afternoon.

“Tegan!” She barks. “For the last time, turn the fucking music down before I kick you in your stupid face!

The music is cranked up louder in response and Sara snaps, twisting the doorknob angrily and busting inside, glad for the first time that their mother had had Bruce remove the locks off of their doors a few months back.

Tegan sits up in bed more than a little shocked, eyes widening then narrowing within a split second, anger contorting her face.

“What the fuck Sara get out!” She yells, face turning a deep shade of red, the blunt that had been resting between her fingers falling to the floor boards smoking, now nothing more than a glorified roach.

Sara crosses her arms, foot tapping as she tries to calm herself slightly and control her breathing to prevent most of the smoke from entering her slightly weaker lungs.

“Tegan.” She says in a slow, measured monotone. “Turn down your music and at the very least open a window if you’re going to smoke alright? You know Mom is going to know as soon as she gets home from the smell.”

“Sara.” Tegan mocks her sister’s tone. “How about shut up and get out.”

“Alright fine. Maybe I’ll just tell Mom about you and Jeremy’s ridiculous act then. Anyone with a brain and two eyes could see how gay you both are. I mean jesus could you make it any more obvious?”

Tegan stands up slowly, shaking a little. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really Tegan? Because I definitely think I do.”

“Sara. Stop.” Tegan’s teeth are clenched and the outline of her body starts to waver slightly, almost like the pavement of a parking lot on a particularly hot day.

“Then turn off your music and learn a little respect for other people. The whole world doesn’t revolve around you ya know.”

Sara feels like something's off here, like maybe she should just stop and walk away the bigger person like her mom always tells her to, but she’s too invested at this point. She steels her resolve.

“Promise me you won’t tell Mom.” Tegan says, taking a step towards her sister.

“Not until you promise to be more respectful. I mean this is just getting ridiculous!” Sara exclaims, throwing her hands frustratedly into the air.

It seems random and entirely like she’s taking things way too far, at least in Sara’s opinion, when Tegan throws the first punch. She only notices after things slow down way too much to be normal that Tegan’s fist is plumed in flame.

She dodges it way easier than she should have been able to. In fact, in the time it took for Tegan to complete her awkward lunge forward, Sara’s managed to sidestep and notice intimate details about the situation she definitely shouldn't have been able to notice at all. Sure, she’s heard explanations made by doctors in the videos her teacher shows in science class about how adrenaline causes us to think that time has slowed down and blah blah moving on to further explanations she doesn’t care about, but this isn’t some freak part of human nature. This is real.

She is literally able to walk circles around Tegan as her twin slow-mo tumbles to the ground, her now extinguished fingers splayed and smoking as she tries to catch herself. Honestly, with what is happening right now, the whole Tegan suddenly catching on fire thing seems plausible. Unreasonably so.

And then suddenly just like that everything rights itself and Tegan is confusedly scrambling to her feet in time that seems way more normal, as if what just happened was a bad dream and since then everything has clicked back into place. Did all of that really just happen?

Her answer is yes, that definitely did, because Tegan is staring at her fingers like they just caught on fire and suddenly the tips literally do again, Sara watching as her twin nearly jumps out of her shoes in surprise and panic before realizing that it doesn’t hurt, shoulders visibly relaxing. What the actual fuck?

Tegan looks up and they make eye contact, anger with one another suddenly evaporating at this newfound ability.

“Sare tell me you see this too.” Tegan mutters. “That fuckin blunt must’ve been laced with something this is the last time I don’t roll’em myself.”

“No Tee that is definitely happening. Just like uh, like how I dodged you like it was nothing. That definitely happened too.” Sara says, trying to wrap her head around the conundrum before them.

“Ah you got lucky you fucker.” Tegan says, momentarily too distracted by the opportunity to gloat to notice that flame has now sprouted on her shoulder, strangely not burning up the tattered flannel she’d stolen from Bruce’s laundry last month. It looks like a pauldron, shooting high enough to tickle Tegan’s wide jaw.

“Um Tegan I definitely didn’t and also your shoulder’s on fire.” Sara deadpans.

“Ah! What the fuck is this!” Tegan yelps, jumping for a second time as she looks down and notices, the flames seeming to grow larger and more fierce as her emotions peak. Sara is glad that she at least is able to remain calm in this situation, because if they both caught on fire every time they got upset, the world would be in big trouble.

“Just try and calm down and it’ll go away Tee!” She yells, wishing she could somehow trigger that weird slow time again so she could get any and everything flammable away from her sister before she destroys their house or something. THAT would be hard to explain to Mom and Bruce when they got home, that’s for sure.

“Sara I am literally on fire how the hell do you expect me to calm down!” Tegan counter’s, panic from earlier starting to resurface in her eyes and actions.

“It’s not hurting you TeeTee, just relax.” Sara changes tactics, her voice taking on a more soothing lilt, and slowly, the flames subside once more. Tegan sags, awkwardly shuffling to her bed and sitting down as Sara crosses the room and turns off that damn music.

“What the hell is going on Sare?” Tegan says. “What happened to you?”

“I-I don’t know.” Suddenly faced with dealing with her own new found “ability” is hard. Now she knows how Tegan felt just now. “It was like… It was like time slowed down; like I turned one of those slow motion cameras on and my eyes were the lense’s. And then everything went back to normal after you fell. I have no idea why it happened.”

“Man I wish I was more into comics right now.” Tegan moans. “I bet all the answers are in there.”

“Those are fiction Tee.” Sara replies absentmindedly.

“Are they?” Tegan replies.

They both look up at this revelation, this bizarre and yet now normalized question, eyes locking.

“Shit, that is trippy as fuck.” Sara says, giggling a little.

“I know right?” Tegan says, flopping backwards on her bed. “Hey, at least now I can light my own cigarettes though!”

“Ok good for you I guess, but I kinda want to know how my whole thing is triggered. Like for you, it seems like when you get emotional or angry you end up with little fires sprouting up all over. Also how does it not catch your clothes on fire, I definitely don’t understand that one. But anyways, like what is the trigger for me?”

“Um... anger, frustration?” Tegan offers.

“Yeah but then wouldn’t it have triggered the first couple of times I came and knocked on your door? Cuz trust me, I definitely was feeling an abundance of both of those then too.” Sara ponders.

“Yeah sorry about that Sare.” Tegan says, voice low with regret.

“Honestly not even worried about that anymore. This is much more fascinating.” Sara waves her hand as if physically brushing away the apology. “Just don’t be such an asshole next time.”

“Riiiiight.” Tegan says, stretching. “Oh we should totally have our own comic book now! We’d need some cool superhero costumes and stuff first though…” Tegan trails off before her eyes light up suddenly again. “What about flight-or-fight, like the adrenaline fueled survival instinct. We talked about it in bio class remember? You swung at me and as soon as you did the time-thing happened for the first time.”

“Could be… how do we test it?”

“Um… well I-arghhh Tegan stop!” Tegan leaps onto Sara in the middle of their conversation, putting her in a headlock and squeezing.

Just like that things slow down again; Sara can feel every flex of Tegan’s arm muscles, every noisy exhale of her sister’s breath. It’s too easy to get out of her grasp when Tegan can’t react any where close to quickly enough counteract her moves. She escapes and can’t help the laugh that sneaks out when she’s met with the sight of Tegan so still, and yet with that face of such triumphant surprise.

And then everything is back to normal, Tegan sitting on her bed and staring at her sister. “No fucking way man. This shit is wack.”

“Tell me about it.” Sara murmurs, trudging over and plopping herself down beside her sister.

Tentatively, Tegan reaches over and puts her arm over Sara’s shoulders, stiffening but slowly relaxing into the return of affection as Sara rests her head Tegan’s shoulder.

“What the heck do we do now Sare?”

“Excellent question.”

“Great answer.”

“I know.”

“...Can we at least get some capes?”

“No!”

#quindom #quincest #fluff #teenage tns #ohheyits comissions #commission 1

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gospacegay · 7 years

Text

LRTIHEW: Part Twenty One

The title stands for “Longest Rusame Thing I Have Ever Written”. Can you feel it? The feelings! They grow!

First Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165808913233/lrtihew-part-one

Previous Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/166625322238/lrtihew-part-twenty

There is swearing, fluff, eventual smut, insanity, and lord knows what else

“Good morning Alik!” Ivan greeted, sitting on his host. His joyous mood couldn't be squished by anything. Like his rage, joy could become so consuming. Trapped while still clutching a spatula, Alfred twisted around so he could see. “Hey. You're excited.” he greeted. “Happy birthday!” Ivan replied, squeezing Alfred tight when he tried to wriggle free. Ivan didn't mention the nation's age directly. He noticed that America stopped mentioning his age completely at the beginning of the twenty first century. Ivan had done the same after the twelfth century. His bosses usually assumed he was lying about his age after three generations.

Canada watched the exchange between sips of coffee, somewhat perplexed. “I didn't know you could be so friendly, Russia.” he commented, having a strange drawl differing from his American sibling. “Yes. I made a friend. I decided this today.” Ivan informed, stating what was now a solid fact in his mind. “I don't think you understand how friendship works. You can't order people to –” Alfred was silenced as he was snuggled painfully tight. It felt so good to touch another living person. Alfred tapped on the floor, and Ivan relented.

Ivan mostly resumed normal interactions, seating himself. Lighting a cigarette, he looked over with a bored expression at Canada. “Hey! Use an ash tray ruskie! That table is expensive!” Alfred scolded sharply, sliding one over. Taking the ash tray, Ivan rolled his eyes but obeyed. Resuming staring at Canada, Ivan analyzed every tic and action. He enjoyed dissecting others, making them squirm. It was an unhealthy habit, but so was smoking.

“Alfie? Why is he staring at me?” Canada asked nervously, edging away in his chair. “Stop being weird to Matthew, Ivan.” Alfred said, not really paying attention. “Ruining all my fun.” Ivan muttered in his native language, taking a drag of his smoke. A minute later, a heaping plate of fried chicken was placed on the table. Ivan took one without asking, enjoying the strip of meat. He ignored Alfred glaring at him. “So... no party... what do you want to do, eh?” Canada asked, now several chairs away from Russia.

“Does it really matter? I'm ruined!” Alfred complained, tearing into a fried chicken chunk. “Why is that? Your drunk rambling was not clear.” Ivan inquired, curious. Alfred's phone was slid to him, a video set to play. He watched it with distant interest, looking at the tiny screen. It was a prisoner being tortured in American prison clothes, a rather bloody and inefficient procedure. The video was tame in Ivan's opinion, even if it violated a dozen human rights.

“That was a poor form of torture. They should have started with water boarding. No bruises. No mess. All results. Threatening to kill their family is even easier.” Ivan criticized, sliding the phone back. “Of course you would say that, you psychotic bastard.” Alfred retorted, his heart not really in it. “Cheer up Alik. I have done much worse, and I am still invited to world meetings.” Ivan purred, offering a smile.

Frustrated, Alfred slammed a fist on his supposedly expensive table. A small cracking noise was heard. “Yeah, because they're scared of you for some stupid reason! Maybe you eat babies... I don't know! Not my business to know... but I have a reputation to maintain. I have charities and senators to meet. This video China leaked is shitting on all of that. I've already had two public appearance cancellations because of this! I'll never be able to show my face at a party again!”

Ivan darkened with jealousy as Alfred spoke. It had been centuries since the Russian been so gloriously popular. Some days he just felt like a washed out war dog with no battle to wage. Canada paled slightly and avoided eye contact with him. A spineless coward like the rest. Maybe Ivan should just murder him. No... no... It wouldn't change anything. He would just be alone... again.

“... but... I am glad you came. I'm surprised France didn't try to rape me in my sleep.” Alfred continued, mood lightening up. “Only because I tried to kill him. He is not to be trusted.” Ivan muttered, still brooding. Old memories of France making moves on a much younger Russia floated up, making him shudder. “Huh... Guess I owe you one there.” Alfred replied, oblivious as ever.

Still extremely upset, Alfred refused to do anything interactive. They ended up watching movies. Canada picked the first one, but they barely made it twenty minutes in. It was a horribly inspirational sports movie where nobody died at all. The second movie was a suspenseful feature of Ivan's choosing. It was more artistic than straightforward, about a man escaping a virtual reality society. Alfred was clutching a pillow by the end. Canada would be shocked at times, muttering things like “Was that really necessary?” Ivan personally thought it was well crafted.

The last movie was easily the worst. It was procedural crime drama that could kill from how boring it was. Canada fell asleep watching it due to the late hour. Still stuck in Russian time, Ivan was wide awake. After Alfred started nodding off, Ivan simply left the couch to occupy himself. By the time the shitty movie ended, Ivan had already read all of America's emails, organized the kitchen, and alphabetized the book shelves. Turning the TV off, Ivan took stock of the situation.

Alfred looked so mature in his sleep, glasses askew. There was the faintest laugh lines on his otherwise smooth face. A splash of freckles spanned across his features. With his deep tan and sun bleached hair, the young nation distantly resembled a beautiful sunflower. Deciding what to do, Ivan abandoned Canada on the couch.

America was carefully scooped into Ivan's arms, his rest unbroken. Laying the freckled nation on his bed upstairs, Ivan hesitated. What did friends do without pushing boundaries? That internet article completely escaped Ivan at the moment. Being nice... sharing interests... strictly clothes on type things? He couldn't remember. Oh well. Ivan would just improvise, for he was very resourceful.

Tucking Alfred under thin covers, Ivan lay beside him in thought. He might as well try to nap and regular to USA time zones. Heaving a sigh, he pushed off the bed and went to recover his luggage. He discovered his sword clean and propped up by the door. That was nice. Next to that was a grey luggage case with Cyrillic labels. Dragging all of this upstairs, Ivan paused in front of Alfred's door.

His clothes would still be on, and it wasn't like Alfred's privacy was important. Yeah, it would be okay. Sneaking in quietly, Ivan put his luggage beside the antique wooden dresser. Easing onto the mattress, Ivan took up the remainder of space. Fearing he may fall off, Ivan slid closer to the centre. Crushed against Alfred, the ash blonde didn't much mind. Until four years ago, Ivan always napped with his precious Koshka wrapped around him, closer still than his precious white scarf.

Gently brushing a thumb against Alfred's cheek, Ivan pondered things. He had made a friend, a real friend. Koshka would be so proud, if cats could be proud about others. They could be selfish. It was funny how Ivan was always pulled to selfish people. Once Ivan had been happy to associate with France, until the romance nation tried to put moves on him. Now it was America, the most egotistical nation to grace media for the past century. Was Ivan making a mistake? Alfred wasn't trying to kill him or do anything inappropriate... yet. Trying not to dwell on that thought, Ivan finally rested.

#russia #america #rusame #amerus #hetalia #story #lrtihew #fluff

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artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

Love me tender - Part Two (Shalaska/Pearlet), by Lavish

A/N: The long overdue second chapter. I am extremely sorry this took so long. Thank you to everyone who filled my askbox with questions about this fic even after so long. I love each and every one of you. Xo, Lavish.

Coming home was always a drag for Alaska. She never really left her office downtown before 7 pm, and still had a long drive back to the suburbs. Tom had talked her into living in Manhattan Beach, explicitly because it would be best to raise their kids in a safe, children-appropriate area. Young and in love, Alaska had accepted without even thinking twice. Now, stuck in traffic on a Friday night, with no kids, and wondering what take out service to call, it didn’t feel so great to have splurged in such a big house far away from her job. Nevertheless, she never really made the effort to escape Manhattan Beach. Alaska knew to select which battles to fight. Lately, she had been choosing much more than she’d like. She looked out of the window, analyzing the people on the sidewalks to pass the time. Since it was just the beginning of the weekend, the streets were packed. A roaring sound of chatter and laughter made its way inside the car from the people sat outside bars, already too drunk to care for politeness or tone. Alaska couldn’t help but smile. Not long ago, she was one of them. At this moment, she couldn’t really put a finger on the last time she went out. The red light turned green, and gripping the wheel with both of her hands, Alaska followed ahead, tired of feeling shitty about herself. She was a grown woman, who was able to not only fix her life but others as well. That was the main reason she’d gone to Law School in the first place. She was a helper, a giver, never a taker. Alaska always took better care of others than of herself. She allowed her mind run back to the meeting earlier, marveling in the story of the three individuals. She thought of Violet, still a young girl, having to make the tough choice of raising her baby or giving up a life she created. She thought of Matt, poor Matt, who seemed so scared to let their kid go to other hands, but also very afraid of losing Violet to his selfishness. Lastly, Alaska thought of Sharon, the beautiful nurse. Her belly fluttered with familiar butterflies while she reminisced in the memory of her voice and the warm touch of her hands. It was hard to concentrate on traffic. Alaska decided to call the one person she knew who was an all time fool and yet lovable. She selected the phone icon on her car screen and pressed the first contact. “Go for Cory.” His voice resonated through the speaker. The sound of it made her body relax, and Alaska felt the muscles of her shoulders start to detangle. “Hey, dork.” “Oh, my! Is this… is this Alaska? I once heard a tale about this mystical creature but I never knew one could get in touch with aliens so easily! How’s planet Glamtron?” Her brother joked in false awe, and she sensed no traces of resent in his speech. True, it’d been a while since they talked, but Cory made her feel closer to him everytime they spoke. A smile spread across her face and Alaska heard herself cackling, the sound resonating in the car. “How have you been, sis?” “Same old. I’m doing ok, I actually picked up a great case today.” She stopped at another red light and took her time watching the passers by. “There’s this teen couple, the girl is 6 months pregnant… She wants to give the baby up but the father is just not taking it. He won’t tell her tho, the poor thing is scared. And guess who’s adopting? Oh yes, the most beautiful nurse who ever lived.” “Ooooh, somebody’s got the hots for the nurse! Guess she’ll be….. licking your wounds very soon, what up?” Alaska scoffed and tried to contain a fit of laughter. She heard Cory’s snorting through the line. “You are so gross, oh my God. But no, she will not be licking anything, as I am a married lady and she’s a mom to be, so suck it.” “I know who you want to su…” “THAT’S ENOUGH FOR THIS CONVERSATION. I hope you don’t kiss our mom with that mouth, ugh.” She pressed on the accelerator, watching the parade of cars ahead finally start to move. Thankfully, she was halfway through the journey already. “Yeah, right. But really, Lask, stay cool. Also, send me a picture of her next time you see her. I would like to know what this lady looks like if she’s messing with your head like that.” “Maybe in the next life.” She took a left, breathing in deeply before talking again. “Hey, we should get lunch sometime. Wanna join me tomorrow?” “Hamburger Mary’s?” “Deal. You’re paying. Byeee!” She hung up before he could protest, a smile still accompanying her on the travel home. ———————————————————————————– Alaska arrived to an empty, dark house. There were traces of her husband’s entrance. His suit jacket was carefully folded on their L shaped couch, a cup of scotch half full sat on the coffee table, and his briefcase stood at a perfect 90º angle by the wall. It was all too meticulous like it was all a video game scenario. Nothing smelled like him, nothing seemed like he had got in with the intents to stay. By the door frame, a note. “Went to tennis practice with the guys. Don’t wait up. Love, T.” Alaska took a deep breath, expecting anger or sadness to wash over her. That something would cross her mind and ignite a more natural feeling than the utter relief she felt to know he wasn’t home. She sat down, defeated, kicking off her high heels. What was happening? Not too long ago she knew she would’ve been pissed. She would’ve called, asked him why he wasn’t home, she’d chase him down, even offer to tag along and play a match. But when you chase after someone for too long, the enchantment just fades away. You get worn out, you look for ways not to step on their toes because you simply don’t bother. Instead, all the anger flutters when you’re together, when you have to stand someone’s presence and the quirks you thought you’d learned to love. She motioned towards the kitchen and checked the clock for the first time since she’d entered. 9:23. She figured it was ok to have dinner, since Tom wouldn’t be back so soon. The club he played only closed at 11, and he was never one to leave early or leave a game unfinished. She picked out carrots, peas, cheese and two eggs, opting for an omelet. She found some left overs from the night before, and decided to leave them for when he arrived. Alaska went back to her pondering while the skillet heated, the only thing hot enough in the sterile, cold house she never called home anymore. Alaska found herself escaping any contact to avoid conflict. She didn’t even manage guilt to surface. She felt nothing about her relationship, save for some neediness here and there. Hot tears spiked her eyes, frustration the only thing to actually take over. Her marriage fell apart and she didn’t bother. Salty tears insisted on jumping off her eyes, making her dinner even more depressing. Her food was tasteless, despite her best efforts to season it. She felt pathetic, eating alone with most of the lights out. Still with a heavy stream cascading down her cheeks, she collected her belongings and headed upstairs to her bedroom. Not even her bed, decorated with cream and white pillows and bedding, looked that inviting. She opted to fill her tub with warm water and rose-smelling bubbles. Watching the steam rising from the water finally made soothed her, and the warmth of the room decorated her cheeks with a pink flush. She cut the stream of tears, wiping the rest of them before letting down her hair from the low bun she’d made. The strands brushed her shoulders, tickling the soft skin of her neck. It had always been her favorite thing to pamper herself. Shimmying out of her trousers and finally getting rid of her collared shirt, Alaska felt as if she was peeling off worries of her body. She could launder them later - both worries and clothes. For now, she just wanted to enjoy a calm bubble bath. After stripping off her underwear, she climbed into the hot water. The knots of her muscles untangled instantly, and her heartbeat finally slowed down. She didn’t know how long it’d been since it’d been racing. She reached a long arm out, extending it towards her phone. There was one call from Tom and 3 messages from an unknown number. She decided to call her husband first. She was sent to voicemail. “Hey, it’s me. I’m home, just taking a bath. There’s dinner in the fridge. I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?” She softened her voice, remembering the end of his note. “Love you too.” She hung up fast, as if she was afraid of her own words. Again, pathetic. Cursing under her breath, she unlocked her device and read the messages. [20:58] Hi, Alaska, this is Sharon! We met earlier today. Listen, I was wondering if we could set up a meeting before Friday, there are some things I would like to discuss with you on the side. Beer’s on me! Xx [21:02] Also I may or may not have willingly downloaded ‘Love Me Tender’ and a bunch of other Elvis tunes and put them in a pen drive for you, so when you come around at the hospital they’ll be our jams. [21:02] Ok, now I’m done. Let me know when our little meeting will go down! Alaska nearly dropped her phone. Her eyes were wider than an apple pie, and a surprised smile occupied the place her frown had been moments ago. She typed in an answer, scared her runny, wet fingers may let her phone slip. [21:49] I can’t believe you! Going as far as actually occupying disk memory in your computer with these songs can only mean one thing… [21:49] You either really really like ancient songs OR (which is highly more likely) you are determined to kiss my ass continuously until you get guard on this child lol kudos on the effort tho!! And yes, we shall meet again. I’ll be downtown again tomorrow to have lunch w my brother, would you like to meet me after? Alaska hit send before she could regret it. She knew it’d be odd in the least to meet a client during the weekend, but then again, it was Sharon who proposed it in the first place. Granted, they did have to discuss matters on the child and make sure she was ready to welcome a baby into her home and her life, so there had a lot of explaining and planning to do. Alaska clung to that idea, repeating to herself she was not taking her newest client on a date. Her ethic manners screamed at her heart, condemning how fast it beat waiting for an answer. She decided to focus on her bath and relax, putting away her phone to clear off her head. Sometimes, she felt it necessary to just be out of thoughts, feelings and memory. She appreciated the numbness and oblivion of moments like these. Alaska sunk deeper inside her tub, allowing the water to cover her pale body from head to toe. She stayed down, in her nest of warmth, until her lungs begged for breath. She lost track of time, distracting herself with the bubbles dancing around her toes. Only when the water turned cold and her fingers looked like raisings she stepped off. Alaska took her time drying off her skin, covering every inch she could reach with lotion, and blow-drying her blonde locks. Finally, she took her phone and wrapped herself in a robe, tucking herself into her bed. There were 6 texts and 1 missed call from Sharon. Alaska smiled before she even opened them up. [21:50] Why I do like them very much alaska! I’ll tell you all abt my fascinating taste in music tomorrow then, text me where we’ll meet [21:50] Also yes there will be a lot of kissing alright if its up to me [21:55] fuck why did I say that I don’t know where it came from [21:55] I thought you’d find it funny oh my god IM SORRY [21:55] can you believe I’m a nurse being this dumb [21:55] UGHHHHHHHHHHHH IM SORRY Alaska was a little ball of laughter, shaking with the motion of her wheezing. Sharon’s slight panic reminded her of an excited puppy who got so happy and agitated they end up tripping on their own paws. It was adorable and just made Alaska want to see her more. She entered her response quickly, feeling her body warm inside and out, and her lids heavy. [22:17] chill girl! I was just taking a bath, but its totally okay She thought about what to say next. Alaska felt confused, like she was betraying her own sense of dignity by feeling this attracted and lured by another woman while she was still married. But what was her marriage anyways, besides a contract bonding two people who were nothing alike? She felt like she’d just had a taste of what fun felt like, and she wanted more. She wanted the opportunity to know different people and try new things. Alaska wanted to chase this new feeling and courage, even if it led nowhere, or if it wouldn’t be with Sharon. She just needed the opportunity and she’d been granted with one, it was only up to her what to do next. [22:18] I’ll hold you to those promises!! See you tmrrw xo The feeling of accomplishment that overcame her just from those daring words was enough to bring a calm, well slept night, one she hadn’t had in forever. Just before she was taken by Orpheus and went into the peacefulness of slumber, she saw very clearly the colorful imagery her subconscious had fabricated. She distinguished two frames, both tall and slender, with soft curves on their hips and torso. Two women. One of them had hair of gold, a reflective shine only blondes exhibit. The other one had rosy lips and hair of ebony. They were happy, she could tell. There was something else, a third form she couldn’t identify at first. It was small and heavy – it had to be held with both arms. Upon further looking, shapes formed. A pair of shining, chocolate brown eyes. Very little hair framing rosy cheeks, and a tiny, round mouth. It seemed fragile and small, and now it was easy to decipher. The blonde lady held a perfect baby in her arms.

#please remember your tags!#lavish #shalaska #pearlet #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #pearl liaison #violet chachki #submission #love me tender #rpdr fanfiction #lesbian au #m/f au

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goldenworldsabound · 6 years

Text

Chapter 7 - The Aquarium Wasn’t Even The Best Part

Celty felt...uncomfortable, seeing how well-documented Wendy and Shizuo’s date was quickly becoming. She hadn’t even known they were on a date. But someone in the chat had mentioned how they heard there was another date, and then she had signed onto the Dollars website, and found...this.

A string of photos (and even some short videos) by shippers as the two took the subway (admittedly, the way he pulled her close when she stumbled was very cute) and headed into the aquarium. Pictures of them looking at fish (incredibly poor lighting and photo quality) and discussions about which fish the two seemed to like most.

Celty felt that it was a huge invasion of privacy, but somehow she couldn’t stop reading it either. It seemed like, for the most part, they walked around holding hands, Shizuo looking somewhat stoic (as per usual). Wendy would point out a pretty fish and say something cute, and then Shizuo would smile (and sometimes even laugh!) and make a reply back.

It was fucking adorable, and that was probably why she couldn’t stop reading it. She was still worried that Izaya was going to strike but...she couldn’t spend all of her time watching over them. That wasn’t healthy for anyone.

Although, that is more or less what I’m doing right now…

She sighed.

A new update. Oh, they were going to have ramen now. Delightful. Celty wondered if Shinra liked ramen. Celty wondered if Shinra liked aquariums.

We’re not alike to them at all… She thought, unhappily. They can go and do things. Even though people recognize him...it’s different for me. I wonder if Shinra wishes to do these things too...

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

“I love eating…” Wendy groaned, as she and Shizuo left the restaurant.

“Me too.” Shizuo replied, grinning.

“Ramen here is so good. In America, we have like...little, crappy, styrofoam cups with a shitty excuse for ramen inside. It’s just like, salty water and noodles. <Cup o’ noodles>, we call them. Pretty shit. This though, this was good.” She huffed.

Shizuo laughed at her miniature rant. “How many drinks did you have, again?” He asked.

“Two. I had two. I already told you Shizuo-kun, I’m the lightest weight. Not all Americans are heavy drinkers you know!” She said indignantly, face red from the alcohol, stumbling a bit as she turned swiftly to face him.

“And, you know, we stereotype Asians as having a low tolerance! But you had two drinks and it seems to have done nothing!” She flailed indignantly.

“I had three drinks.” Shizuo corrected.

“Three drinks. Three drinks! See? And no problem. I can’t even tell.”

“I suspect there’s a lot you can’t tell like this.”

“Although,” Wendy continued, as if she hadn’t heard him, stopping her walk. “I suspect for you it has to do with your <high metabolism>! Which I assume is a thing you have because, well, your strength but also your appetite, so <in conclusion>, a <high metabolism>, a high tolerance for alcohol!”

Shizuo blinked at her. It seemed like she tended towards English in her drunken mini-tirades. He wondered if he should learn English. He stared at her, standing there, looking pleased with herself for her deduction, which, since it was half in English, he did not understand.

“I think it’s time to go home.” He said, and before she could react he had scooped her up.

“Go home? To my place?” She asked, wrapping her arms around his neck, snuggling up to him.

“Yes.”

“<Excellent! Wonderful! Dreams…>” She looked up at him, eyes sparkling. <”...do come true.>”

He looked down at her, and not understanding, decided to just continue walking without response.

“<Ah, I was speaking in English. Am I still speaking in English?>” No response. “I guess I was. So sorry about that. Um...it’s just...so much easier to speak in English.” She pondered. “If I don’t think about it, it just happens.” She concluded. “When I’ve been drinking.”

She was interesting, with alcohol, for sure. He was very concerned with getting her home at this point, keeping her out of harm’s way. So despite her babbling and facial blush being, honestly, rather adorable, he was taking this very seriously. This would be their first date where nothing went wrong. And if he had to just carry her home to bed to make that happen, that was fine.

He looked down suddenly. Wendy was giggling, undoing his bow tie. She held it in her hand, looking at it.

“Hey, Wendy-chan. Two things.”

She looked up attentively.

“That bow tie is important to me, so please put it in my vest pocket.” She did as asked. “And two, please wait a bit longer to play with my outfit?” Her hand, which had been inching for his shirt button, retracted.

“Sorry sorry, I’m really getting carried away aren’t I? I...I’m sorry.” She seemed to sober up a bit, all of a sudden, looking distraught.

They were nearing the station, to take a train home.

“Um...here. Let me down, I think going through the subway carrying me might prove difficult.”

Shizuo did as she asked, watching her silently.

“Look, I...I don’t know what-”

Shizuo held up a hand, cutting her off. “Let’s go home. We can talk there.” He looked away for a moment.

Wendy nodded slowly, looking at the ground. She looked at Shizuo. He was holding out a hand for her to take. She did.

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

As they exited the subway, she felt Shizuo stiffen before she saw heard or saw him - Izaya.

He stood on the side of the exit near where they would need to go.

Wendy felt her blood freeze, paralyzed with the thought of what would happen next. Would this be like before? Would he leave? She was, truly, not sober, and if he left, she would be in grave danger, alone in this mysterious city. She could call someone she supposed but in a pinch, that wasn’t enough.

Knowing it didn’t matter what she did, she still gripped Shizuo’s hand tightly, and her other hand moved to wrap around his arm, looking up at him.

She was startled. He looked furious. His face was tense. He was gritting his teeth.

“Iiizzzzaaaayaaaa.” The word slid out of his mouth, more of a hiss than the usual yell.

“Hi, Shizu-chan. Fancy seeing you here.” He laughed. “And you too, Wendy-chan?”

“Izaya-san, please leave.” Wendy begged, while Shizuo remained silent, a mask of anger.

“I just wanted to talk to my good friend Shizu-chan.” He flicked out his knife, standing ready for a fight. “Isn’t that right, Shizu-chan?”

Wendy realized Shizuo was shaking a bit. She squeezed his hand. “Shizuo?” She whispered, looking up at him.

Everything happened extremely quickly.

He let go of her hand and pulled away from her,

He ripped a street sign out of the ground,

He threw it at Izaya,

And then he scooped her into his arms and ran the other direction.

Tch. That beast is unpredictable. Izaya thought to himself, dodging the incoming sign, watching as he quickly lost sight of Shizuo and Wendy, scowling. I’ll find a new way for us to play. His scowl became a smirk, became laughter, as he walked down into the station.

Meanwhile, Wendy was trying to process everything.

“You didn’t fight him! I mean, you started to, but...you didn’t leave me…” There were tears in her eyes. He was still shaking. “Shizuo, Shizuo, are you okay?” His face was impassive, blank.

He grinned, and came to a stop, panting.

“I wasn’t sure...that I was, but...I am. I did it. Am I...learning to control this?” He shook.

“Hey hey, put me down for a second, okay?” He did. She hugged him, tightly. He seemed surprised, but returned it.

“I’m really proud of you. It means so much to me. And...I think I understand that it means even more to you.”

He was quiet. “Thank you, Wendy...I promised myself that I wouldn’t let anything ruin this date...especially not me.”

She squeezed him. “Let’s go home now - uwa!” He had scooped her up again, pulling her close.

“Yes.” He headed towards her apartment, both of them silent. Shortly, he broke the silence. “I’m carrying you because I want to. I like doing it.”

“Well, I like it happening…” Wendy mumbled, the shyness and blush he loved returning with the sobriety.

He smiled, but didn’t say anything.

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

After the subway, the Dollars seem to have lost sight of Shizuo and Wendy. Which, Celty thought, wasn’t a bad thing. Wendy didn’t need these people knowing where she lived, really.

She was relieved that everything seemed to have gone well. She thought maybe she should text Wendy something like, “I hope the date went well!” or some such. Yes, that was...a friend thing to do, right?

Of course, she had no idea about the incident with Izaya, but perhaps that was for the best.

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

As they neared the apartment, Wendy’s phone went off. She wondered at it, but figured it could wait until they were inside. Wendy went to the bathroom, and checked the message at that time.

‘<Hope you had a good date!>’ From Celty.

Wendy smiled. Then she frowned. Had she told Celty she was going on this date? She didn’t remember doing so. It was something she supposed she could have done...but when...she’d worry about that later.

‘<Thanks! It was great. Still going :)>’ Sent.

When she came out, Shizuo was sitting on the couch, eyes closed, sunglasses on the coffee table, vest undone. She wondered if he’d fallen asleep. She carefully sat down next to him.

His eyes opened, and he turned towards her, smiling. “Hey.” He said.

“Hi.” She replied, smiling back. “Um, I wanted to apologize. I was being a bit rambunctious and inappropriate, earlier…”

“It’s okay. You stopped when I asked you to.”

“Can...can I ask you, some things? You can ask me anything, too.” She said. “We can take turns or something.”

“You always seem to have some sort of plan, even for something like this.” He replied. “That...sounds good.”

She grinned. “I do, huh...um, you...mentioned that your bow tie was special to you. I...noticed you wear this bartender outfit, but you aren’t a bartender...um, why is that?”

He looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “My brother gave them to me. A whole set of these. He said they suited me. So I keep wearing them.”

“Well, they do suit you…” Wendy replied, putting a hand on his chest. “Your brother has good taste.”

“Well, I was a bartender at the time.” He replied, somewhat quieter. “That day I met you, what were you doing with the fleabag?”

Wendy could sense the seriousness in his words. It was important that her answer was honest. He had been putting this off, scared of what she could say. How it could hurt.

“He approached me, out of nowhere.” She recalled the story for him, short as it was, but no detail left out. “And you should know, he’s the reason Celty showed up. And he paid Shinra for my care…”

Shizuo remained quiet for a moment. “You should be careful of him. He’s going to want to use you to get to me. He will stop at nothing to see me dead.” He looked her in the eye, very serious. “He is almost always involved with the bad things that happen to me.” He clenched his fists. Through gritted teeth he said, “now that I know he’ll sink low enough to go after you, I want him dead even more.”

Wendy stared at him, stunned into silence. This sounded incredibly serious. “Why...is this how it is?” She asked. “Why do you both want to kill each other?”

“It’s been that way since we met, back in high school.” He eyed the ground and breathed deeply, working on containing the rage that was seeping into him. “We fought, and he got me hit by a truck. I was fine. From then on he sent all sorts of people after me, and eventually framed me for a crime. I’ve wanted to kill him for a long time.” He grew quiet, realizing that this all probably sounded a bit scary.

She put her hand on top of his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Are you scared?” He asked.

“Um, a little bit. It’s terrifying that the two of you want to kill each other. I don’t want you to die, and I don’t want you to become a murderer either. And somehow I’m going to become involved in this too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You apologize a lot.”

“I have a lot to apologize for.”

“Is that what you think? Shizuo-kun, you’ve been very honest with me. If I stay, and I get hurt, that’s because of a decision I’m making. I have all the facts. That’s all I can ask of you.”

Shizuo thought for a moment. “Are you staying?”

She blinked at him. “Of course I’m staying.” She kissed his cheek, and he quietly gasped.

“I...I’m happy.” He said, turning to her with a soft smile, a little blush. He pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly to him. She hugged back, feeling him shaking a little.

“I’ve been scared that the more you found out, you’d eventually leave.” He whispered. “I never thought I could have something like this.”

“Well, I’m here, and I’m here to stay. So get used to it.” They both laughed, and the hug was over.

“Did you have anything else you wanted to ask me, Shizuo-kun?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why me?” He seemed fidgety as he asked.

“Wh- are you still feeling like you don’t deserve this or something?”

“No! No!” He waved off her sorrowful look. “I was already going to ask this, before...just now.”

She put her head on her hand, thinking. “It’s hard to put it into words. Um…” She blushed a bit. “Well, you’re really cute...and I think that, um, your heart is in the right place. I think you’re kinder than you give yourself credit for. I feel safe, with you.”

He smiled and put his arm around her, pulling her closer. He kissed the top of her head.

“I want to ask you the same question back, but...not yet. I want to hear your answer once we’ve spent more time together.”

He wrapped his other arm around her as an answer. “Okay, Wendy…” He said as he pulled her into another hug.

When she had said his name without the honorific earlier when Izaya showed up, while she knew it meant something, it was easier for her, having not really had the honorifics ingrained into her. She felt that it was far more significant that he had dropped the honorific, and she was elated.

She also liked his hugs. They were strong, and he was warm, but it was also clear he was being careful and gentle. They felt nice. Safe. Warm.

With her head resting on his chest, and the lateness of the evening, she drifted off into sleep. Shizuo smiled to himself, relaxing the hug, and fell asleep too.

A few hours later, Wendy woke up. She sat up, checking her phone to see what time it was. 1 in the morning? They should really should go to bed, or at least turn the light off. She looked at Shizuo. His mouth was open a little, and he was snoring lightly. She kissed his cheek. He smiled, opening one eye, waking up.

“Hm?” He asked, hardly awake.

“Let’s go to bed.” She stood up, tugging on his arm as if to pull him up. “On second thought, let me get changed first…” She let go of his arm, wandering off to the bedroom.

He watched her go. In the meantime, he took off his vest and his belt, unbuttoning his shirt a few buttons. That was sufficient for him to be able to sleep.

He heard the bedroom door open, and he turned to look. Wendy peeked out, wearing a big shirt and short shorts. “Um, do you...want to sleep with me? Er, I mean, on the bed, i-is all…” She was blushing immensely, pulling on the bottom of her shirt as a fidget.

Shizuo processed that. “Oh. Are you sure?” He asked, also blushing.

She nodded back at him. He got off of the couch and walked over to where she was standing. She was still half hiding behind the door. She opened the door the rest of the way shyly, and walked into the room, getting into the bed.

Both of them were blushing furiously. Shizuo hopped into the other side of the bed, laying on his back, not sure where to look.

She turned off the light. “G-goodnight, Shizuo…” She rolled facing away from him, but scooted slightly closer to him.

He hoped he wasn’t being too forward, but with his heart pounding, he rolled over to spoon her. “Goodnight, Wendy.” He said, kissing the top of her head.

She squeaked in delight, pushing back into him as confirmation that, yes, this was okay. Better than okay.

They fell asleep like that. Content, and smiling.

#wenduo #fic #chapter 7 #Street Signs And Snuggles

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unsocialspecies · 7 years

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Jeffrey and his dear ol ma and pa find a sleepy little hotel in some small town on theyr way to see cousin randall up north young jeff has been against the trip from the start he says it interferes with his partying and he doesn’t really relate to people who sleep. As his parents drift off and he is left to his thoughts his mind begins to race. He finds the down time unbearable and hes nearly chewed a hole threw his tounge. Suddenly he bolts upright in bed He turns to where his parents are sleeping and yells “yo dad psssst pops where the party at? what the hell you sleepin for are you a lazy fuckin bum or something??” His father a costumed to jeffs shenanigans calmly retorts back “Son shut your fucking mouth its 1 a.m” Damn … well I tried. Jeff says to himself as he lays back down. Thoughts of hoodrat shit le cigarettes honkey tonks and hangin with blue collar gentlemen and rollin bolo back home streak across his mind he remembers the good times digging through trash staring at radio tower lights all night with ol boy Jr all the lurpage that’s going on back at the trap without him and all the fun hes missing out on. Fuck it he swings out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom “ight pops get to sleep you lazy fuck ill be in the bathroom probably jerkin my gerkin till sunrise Oh ill try to act surprised when you bust in at 3am to take a piss but no promises after the 4th time it loses its excitement and after the last one remember when I was trying to hit a bolo and slap my sausage at the same time well it just want the same . After that I kinda just put it off as one of those thing that happen Anyway if you ever decide to stop being lame and show some interest in the finer things in this life well you know where to find me I got the firest dope in the whole trailer park this shit will fuuuuuck your whole life it aint dope if it doesn’t make you regret all your life choices take a hit of this and you will come out of your zone 5 years later you will notice your in an r.v and theres pictures hanging up of you and a dog eating wedding cake together you are wearing a huge white dress but whats this .. No it couldn’t be the dog is in a tux and you realize that dog in the picture that dog eating cake with you …That’s now your husband and that’s when it hits you … you realize how good that fucking dope was and your like duuuude im so glad my son let me party with him that night so dad in conclusion come on don’t you wanna have some good friendly fun with crystal meth . Jeffs father has become a bit triggered after hearing another weird fucking story that probably came about from some fucked hallucination jeff accidentally filed under reality Jeffs dad says “Son im not and I never ever will join in on your weird fucked up activities iv seen enough I don’t want to dabble in anymore of your tweakery than I have to” Well dad that’s on you and if those are the kind of selfish choices you want to make in life then I cant tell you what to do just remember im not mad im just disappointed now give me the wifi password so I can go set up headquarters and get some videos buffered up its gonna be long night nuts don’t bust themselves it’s a lot of hard work and blood and sweat and tears. Jeff grabs the wifi password and locks himself in the bathroom. AHHHHH bliss I should get paid for this he chuckles to himself before getting down to business first things first he pulls out his pookie and blows the fattest cloud on record. Then its time. He is focused like hes on a mission from god. After he stretches and gets in the zone The suddle slapping of a monkey is the only noise heard throughout the night. Hours pass by but to jeff time is only made up it does not exist in his reality A thump against the door startles him out of focus and breaks the steady pattern of fapping goddamit jeff whispers . the door crashes open as his dad comes in rubs his eyes and realizes whats going on “oh for god sake son your gonna rub your godamn dick off at this rate if you spent as much time collecting pennies off the ground as you do peddlin on your pecker iv swear Iv become numb to all this shit I ll probably walk in next time and you will be bent over the sink reaching an arm back fingerboppin your asshole what do you wan… Dad …dad jeff interrupts his fathers breakdown to ask an important question “WHAT???!!! JEFF what is it” uhhhhh I wanted to ask you if it was normal for a shaft to go numb…. Not me though my penis is healthy . Im asking for a friend. jeffs father has a distant stare on his face as he shakes his head slowly back in forth and scratches at his hair “OK YOU WIN JEFF never have I heard of anyone BOMBING THE FUGGIN universe as much as you have in one day every time I think it cant get anymore disappointing you proceed to bypass your previous shame by miles. You are the definition of a terminal illness growing like a godamn tumor. Don’t get up from your throne I wouldn’t wanna come between you and the only true passion iv ever seen you have for anything. Ill just piss outside oh and to let you in on a little something something your mom explained last night her growing dislike towards you its not about the drugs or trannies you brought to grandmas last month its “THAT stupid fucking look on your face your always making she cant stand it and if it continues to intrude on her life she will have to take a hammer and bash it until it caves in on itself the bright side is we can go to the Halloween store and pick you out a mask. Think of it like that show where they tear apart those shitty houses and make them look amazing…. But hey maybe it wont come to that just practice in the mirror son try really hard to not look retarded I know just be strong if anything just think about that Halloween mask you will get to wear. Jeff sighs…. Oh my good godamn I see how it is I figured something was fishy but didn’t look into it due to a mix up in differentiating between pychosis and my incredible intuition. see I pick up on small things that the normal person would never even think about but due to paranoia and sleep deprivation sometimes I just confuse red flags as my own made up dellusion. Ya know whaa….But there was no point explaining the situation to his dad for the old man must of lost focus and walked off right at the beginning…. Well some people just don’t function on this high of a brain frequency almost makes ya feel sorry for em. They cant help being fools. Oh well I got other shit to take care of important stuff . He quickly makes a calculation in his head and decides if he cannot climax by sun up he will go to the doctor but 150 google searches 300 different adult websites and an undetermined number of computer viruses Young jeff finaly got the sweet satisfaction he had set out to find he let out a sigh of relief although it was short lived because as soon as his heels touched back down on the bathroom floor his legs both cramped and jeff let out a horrific scream as he crumbled to the ground. after dragging the lower half of his body across the bathroom and crawling over into the bathtub he dove deep into his mind body and spirit….. Bingo “ I should just sit next time im whoopin the worm that way my legs don’t get weak and I don’t lose feeling in my lower extremities next time I bust a nut” suddenly he felt a lot better about things see most people wouldn’t take the time to figure out why life dealt such a hard blow but not jeff he took in every factor anlysed the situation and he aint gonna make the same mistake more than maybe 3 times . So there he sat waiting for his leg muscles to return to the correct places. Hmmmmm “you like that you like it when people get injured while jerking off as you watch the whole thing and laugh about later with your no good hippie step son”!!!he began pondering the existence of god he flipped his pecker like some toy from a souvenir shop it helped him think smarter he wondered if even though he had no faith in the holy spirit and was not a believer why it felt so good to talk shit to god maybe im having a spiritual awakening or just need somebody to blame. Ah maybe I should pray perhaps prayer is just another method of begging .The man upstairs sounds like the haggling type of son a bitch maybe hes into horse trades. Then jeff did something he aint never done before he bowed his head stopped playing with his damn pecker put his hands together and prayed “Lord I don’t know if your listening but im in some trouble nothing too bad but… just please if you hear this gimme some feeling in my legs back I learned my lesson I heard somewhere theres no choking the chicken in heaven I know it cant be true though because what would heaven be if you couldn’t beat your meat every now and again. Anyway maybe that whole leg cramp thing was a god given sign of some sort but it was totally unnecessary now Iv not been on too good terms with you because back a couple months or so when I lost that portable dvd player under a truck wheel in the driveway and getting crushed. I blamed joe joe bean for the longest time but considering the holy spirit in charge of shit around here is you I figure you’re the sorry son a bitch that put joe joe up to something like that.

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