INTIMATE IDEAS #3
More non-sexual intimate scenarios to insert your characters into:
Person A tucking Person B into bed
Person A clasping Person B's necklace
Person A checking, at Person B's request, to see if Person B has bad breath
Person A and Person B trying on each other's clothes
Person A accompanying Person B to a doctor's appointment
Person A helping Person B clean / organize their house / apartment / room
Person A and Person B sleeping in the same bed together (just sleeping)
Person A checking Person B's hair for ticks / lice
Person A taking Person B's measurements to fit them for a custom garment
Person A making a playlist / mixtape for Person B
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~ tokyo rev boys reacting to a “would you still date me if I was a bug?” text
requested by anonymous
includes: manjirou sano, ken ryuuguji, baji keisuke, chifuyu matsuno
warnings: cursing but it’s mostly just crack lmao
masterlist | buy the author a coffee
tags: @curlyhairedblueeyedangel / @thingsforimagination / @zeldafreak688 / @natasha-danvers / @simonsbluee / @ravenmoore14 / @rabeccablake / @czarinera / @tvwhoresblog / @curiouslilbeast / @styxiasstuff / @crapimahuman / @leighbechilling / @laudthingcat / @duhsies / @mangoessassafras / @issamomma / @poe30 / @asainpersuasion / @idklol237 / @manjiroarchiviste / @escapenightmare / @not-cool-1 / @nxxagent / @inu1gf / @jahnvi-d
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not quite resolved
I m p o r t a n t: This is a continuation of my story: not quite honest
Hello everyone! I’m not really back, but I couldn’t not write this one. Hope you enjoy! I think it’s essential to read part one to really understand what’s going on, but feel free to do as you please. Have fun! x
Several weeks had passed since Y/N and Harry had held each other, hoping that by squeezing the other person close that they could erase the dreadful hurt of the night. Harry, equally grateful as surprised that the night didn’t end with her sending him on his way, allowed himself to be hopeful. Though only timidly. He hoped that by pulling her to his chest, he could chase away any lingering doubt in her mind.
Y/N in turn hoped that if she allowed herself to be held, the losing of trust would stop. She wanted to trust him. Believe what he said. Trusting and believing his words had always come so easily and natural to her during their time together. It was a hard conclusion to draw when she asked herself where exactly the root of her pain was coming from. She didn’t know how to rebuild their effortless believe in each other.
So she’d held onto him tighter, chuckled at his words of humour and hoped, truly and whole heartedly, that this would be enough.
To some degree this worked. Or to the very least, it looked like it did.
The next few weeks were noticeably different than before. The days were marked by the slight change in behaviour. Y/N was less touchy with him. Something Harry wasn’t embarrassed to admit he noticed the quickest, as well as this being the one thing that he found the hardest to ignore. They still kissed, they had sex. More so than before, actually. But the small things, like a lingering hand or kiss on the cheek just because she could - those small gestures of love and attention, they were gone. Instead Harry could see the wheels turning insider her head each time before she as much as slightly initiated that she would like to be physical with him. He watched her rethink every gesture, hesitate before touching him. Almost as if he didn’t belong to her. It pained him that his past mistakes had made her doubt her ownership over him.
The only times this seemed to be different was when they were in bed together. But those moments could barely make up for the loss of affection found in ordinary gestures.
Harry wasn’t quite the same with Y/N either. He would close the distance between them any chance he got, an overcompensation for her withdrawal. Y/N barely got to stand beside him without his arm heavily draped around her shoulders or his hand resting on her hip to pull er up against him. Even when they were around others and his attention was forced elsewhere, a hand would constantly touch Y/N. Her arm, her hand, her shoulder or her thigh. If physical touch had been his favourite way to show attention before, the need had grown tenfold since the truth of his intentions had come out.
The subtle change in his behaviour didn’t go unnoticed by her. At first she’d struggled to really put a finger on what exactly was different. Perhaps it was simply that he didn’t take her, their relationship and even the littlest of details for granted anymore.
Despite moving on from their conflict proving itself to be much harder than she’d anticipated, Y/N loved him. She loved him so much. Calling it quits and giving up was never considered, not after it briefly crossing her mind when she’d stared at herself in the bathroom mirror of that horrible bar she had never wanted to return to since. She wouldn’t be happy without him. She reminded herself of this every time her heart sank at the memory of his betrayal. And she ignored the tiny voice in her head, reminding her that she wasn’t really happy with him either.
So this is how several weeks passed. They hadn’t talked about what had happened again, nor did they address the clear changes in their relationship. Both were accepting and hoping. Harry hoped dearly that Y/N would find it in herself to move on if given enough time and proven repeatedly that he only wanted her. Y/N hoped that she would forget everything. And that she never had to see Lucy again.
She was denied both wishes.
It happened on a Tuseday. Y/N stood in line for coffee, in the same shop Harry and her had had their first date. The coffee place Lucy had always frequented in back when she’d been in town, a fact that had made her hesitate before entering, considering that the memory was unwelcome. But the coffee there was one of the best and she knew it would make Harry happy. Five minutes of standing in line, debating whether or not she should ask for extra vanilla flavour in her mug, Y/N felt a hand touch her shoulder. Her heart sped up. Of course Lucy would come back to their lives on the same day Y/N had decided to get coffee for Harry in order to show him that she wasn’t giving up.
“Y/N!” Lucy squealed, before apologizing to the people behind her, presumably for cutting the line so she could stand right behind her.
“Lucy”, Y/N swallowed harshly, then smiled. “Hi.”
“It’s nice seeing you again! What a coincidence. I’m barely on this side of town anymore.”
Lucy went on explaining where she’d been and what adventurous turns her life had taken since she’d stopped hanging out with them, and Y/N only heard half of it. All she could do was stare. Lucy had always been pretty. Very pretty. It hadn’t surprised Y/N one bit when Mica had mentioned Harry having had feelings for the girl, because truly who didn’t. Lucy wore her hair shorter than before and with some sections dyed a lighter shade of her natural colour. On anyone else the look might be difficult to pull off, but on Lucy it looked amazing. Cool, edgy. A little cheeky but well put together. Despite the cool weather, her legs were bare and only halfway covered by her high reaching boots. Paired with a skirt and top Y/N doubted would ever suit her- well, Lucy was as pretty as ever.
Hearing his name from her lips brought Y/N’s attention back. Similar to how a cold shower of ice water could wake you in an instant. Lucy stared at her with expectant eyes, an emotion in them Y/N couldn’t quite name.
“Oh”, Y/N cleared her throat, “he’s doing well, thanks. I’m getting him coffee actually.”
“Aren’t you the sweetest!” Lucy smiled, then nudged her head to front, insinuating to Y/N that it was her turn to order.
Y/N wanted to curse when her words came out in a stutter and her hands shook when paying for the drinks. She forgot all about the vanilla flavour and instead hoped that the barista would work fast on her drinks. If only she’d skipped coffee and gone straight home. She should’ve just told Harry that she appreciated him. Now it seemed silly of her to expect a coffee to do so for her. And she would’ve avoided a face off with the one person she could lose Harry to.
Lose Harry. The thought had her shudder and fingers tremble as she reached for some napkins on the counter, despite not really needing any.
“I’d really like to see him again!” Lucy continued once she held her own cup of coffee, “The whole gang actually. Do you think you could add me to your group chat again? So we can arrange something?”
“I don’t-” Y/N stuttered, “I don’t think I have your new number.”
Lucy’s eyes widened before she playfully face palmed herself. “Right! Of course, silly me. Let me just give it to you and we’ll sort something out, okay?”
Y/N wouldn’t be able to say why exactly she didn’t decline and why she instead stood silently as Lucy took her phone and saved her number in it.
Despite the coffee being now cold, Harry was thrilled. It had been a few weeks since Y/N had brought him any kind of beverage or food unsolicited and simply because she’d thought of him.
“You’re an angel”, he repeated, taking another sip, “I needed that.”
Y/N simply smiled softly from where she stood by the counter. Harry sat by the table, laptop and research material crowding the small space. He looked good. He was dressed in a soft cotton shirt that fell loose on his broad frame as well as a pair of sweatpants he’d owned for so long already that their black had long faded into a grey tone. He always refused when she offered to get him new ones. “These have character.” He’d always say, starting up a debate with her on how or why a pair of sweats would have character.
“This document is really kicking my arse. You’d excel at it of course, but I-”
“I ran into Lucy.”
Harry’s posture never froze so fast before. He stared at Y/N, his eyes wide and lips slightly agape. He’d hoped he misunderstood, but the look in her eyes said it all. Y/N kept a healthy distance between them, her arms crossed over her chest. He hated that. She looked so upset, as if she was trying to physically hold herself together. All because of him.
“When?” he asked, his words slow.
“Just now. In the coffee shop. Should’ve known she’d return there some day, as addicted to it as she was.”
Harry cleared his throat. Slowly, unsure if Y/N would bolt, he rose to his feet and approached his girlfriend to stand in front of her.
“Are you okay?”
Y/N ignored him. “She wants to see you. Gave me her number to give to you.”
Harry frowned. “What?”
Her head turned away, eyes directed anywhere but him. “Well, she didn’t say that exactly. But she wants to see you. The rest of our friends, too and I’m now in charge of setting that up.”
Y/N nodded. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to say anything more. There was nothing that would make the situation any better. At least nothing he hadn’t already said several times. In an ideal world - actually scratch that. The world wasn’t ideal, proven once more by fate not accepting her wish to never have to see Lucy again. Y/N huffed, something Harry knew she only did when she was angry.
Gently, afraid she’d shove him off, Harry reached for Y/N’s right hand. He removed it from where she’d clawed at herself to remain physically closed off. Slowly, he unfolded her arms and pulled, just enough for his hand to enclose around her wrist.
“You don’t have to do any of that. You know that, right?”
Y/N still didn’t look at him, but her eyes moved from staring at the tile floor to looking at the skin he was touching. His thumb rubbed over her wrist.
“I’m not going to see her”, Harry continued, his voice steady and certain, “And you don’t have to arrange anything. Tell her whatever but don’t force yourself to... I know she’s the last person you’d want to spend time with.”
“And you?” Y/N spoke so quietly it took Harry a moment to understand that she’d asked a question, rather than adding him to the list of people she didn’t want around.
Y/N nodded. Finally she looked up and met his gaze. Harry’s heart squeezed painfully at the veil of tears gathered in her eyes. He sighed lowly and let go of her hand. Instead, he clasped her cheek, stepped closer and rested his forehead against hers.
“You thought I would be happy.” It wasn’t a question.
Harry exhaled harshly. He didn’t think fast enough to stop himself, nor did he want to, from stepping even closer. His mouth pressed to Y/N’s temple before she could flinch, then travelled lower to her cheek, the corner of her lips and finally, the middle of her forehead. His hand moved upwards and held Y/N’s elbow, while the other reached for her free arm and searched for her hand.
“Y/N,” he mumbled, lips moist as they pressed to her skin “I don’t want to see her. And I’m not at all happy about her being back.”
“The only person I want to spend time with is you. The only person I want to do anything with, is you.”
She closed her eyes. His breath was warm against her cheek. Perhaps feeling the words as he spoke them helped. Slowly, unsure if she wanted to, Y/N let her fingers close around the hand that was desperately holding hers.
“I love you”, Y/N said.
Harry’s soft laugh tickled her neck, his head falling forward and face burying in her neck. The relief of her words came crushing down on him, forcing his body forward so he could cradle her closer.
“I love you, too. Only you”, he promised into her skin, “I know your trust in me has taken a toll.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. Truthfully he didn’t want to hear one. So he took a step backwards and smiled at her, his hand still tightly clutching hers.
“I understand that it did. It’s why I’ll keep saying that I only want you, over and over until you believe me. I only love you. It’s always you. For everything, all the time. Regardless of who’s standing beside you, who’s damn number you’ve saved in your phone. I want you. No one else.”
His quiet reassurances helped. Just like the caring gestures of his, like holding her hand and softly stroking her cheek. They were why Y/N so often thought herself close to letting go of her doubts. But then Lucy’s face appeared before her eyes, followed closely by the way Harry’s eyes used to linger on her. Even after he’d asked Y/N to go out on second date. Every single time. Somehow she hadn’t noticed it then.
Harry pulled her out of her thoughts with a soft squeeze of hands. “Do you believe me?”
Once her eyes met his, he instantly regretted asking. Because despite Y/N’s soft nod, her expression said it all. She didn’t.
They didn’t talk too much about the topic that night. Any further attempts of his to ease her mind were quickly shut down by her court replies. Harry did end up convincing Y/N not to text Lucy. He assured her repeatedly that he wouldn’t want to go anyway, regardless of what kind of plans Lucy had in mind. He did so desperately, with his hands clutching Y/N’s tightly and an earnest expression on his face, before she agreed and pulled her fingers from his. She’d heard his promises several times in the past weeks, always more or less the same. It surprised her that he hadn’t run out of them yet, especially since she’d long run out of what to say.
Y/N remembered how easily she’d found the right words that night. She’d expressed her hurt after he’d followed her to the bathroom to talk. She’d voiced her anger in the car. Her hopelessness in the park. And once in her flat, she’d managed to express her unwavering love, her need for them to make it through. Since then, she hadn’t had much luck however. “It’s alright, Harry”, she would usually say. It hurt to see his disappointment at her court reply. But she just didn’t know what else would be truthful enough for her to say.
Did she forgive him? On some days, mostly. On others, barely. Had she stopped thinking about him with Lucy? Not even close. The image of the two of them together or the sound of Lucy’s name falling from his lips haunted her daily. Even though the sight of her Harry with Lucy was mostly a product of her imagination. Given that once they’d started dating, Lucy and Harry barely saw each other.
Considering she hadn’t given Lucy her own number, it was unlikely that she would ever reach the couple herself. Y/N also agreed that it didn’t matter what Lucy thought of her. If she was annoyed or upset about Y/N not following through with her suggestion to make plans together, then so be it. Y/N simply would know which coffee place to avoid from now on.
Harry had not bothered to hide the relief when she’d agreed not to follow through with Lucy’s request. Additionally to all the worry he could tell his girlfriend was still plagued by, he truly did not want this to build on top of it. He also hoped it wouldn’t wreck the trust she’d been able to regain.
If only he never had to see Lucy. Of course, his wish also wouldn’t be granted.
Since their eventful dinner a few weeks ago, Harry met up with his friends alone. It wasn’t that Y/N was holding grudges against any of them, not even Mica, who’d unknowingly spilled the secret.
“I just feel a little useless with them”, Y/N said, laying next to Harry on the couch one afternoon, two days after her run in with Lucy. He had plans with friends that night and had hoped that this time his girlfriend would join him.
Harry frowned. “If you’re mad at them, then-”
“I’m not mad. It’s hard to explain. I don’t even think that they would’ve owed me anything or should’ve told me.”
Y/N gently took hold of his shirt. Harry suppressed a groan.
Harry turned to lay on his side, resting his hand on her naked stomach. She smiled at the contact, looking down to where his touch met her skin. Her own fingers graze his knuckles. He couldn’t understand how, but whenever they were laying together, her apprehension against him seemed to have gone away. Her kiss would taste of neediness. Her hands were gentle but firm in her hold on him. Such a contrast to her usual behaviour.
Y/N snuggled further into the pillow and peered up at him. He could tell she was choosing her words well, which only furthered the worry settling in his stomach.
“My own friends would never have kept that a secret. They would’ve asked me months ago if I knew or how we worked past you only dating me to make someone else jealous.”
“I didn’t only date you to-”
“Let’s not go there right now, please,” Y/N dismissed his protests, but her hand remained gentle as she stroked the back of his, whilst her other pulled his shirt up and exposed his stomach, “You know what I mean. I’m just not sure what I would say to them. Especially after that scene I caused by leaving without saying goodbye.”
When he spoke next, his tone was gentle, soft. “They don’t care about that. Everybody understood why you had to leave.”
“Still”, Y/N whispered and lifted herself up to lay her head onto his chest, his hand falling from her belly and to her hip, “I’d rather you went to see them without me again, if that’s okay.”
“Of course, love,” he agreed easily. Harry would’ve agreed to anything with her cuddling herself on top of his body. “Are you going to stay here and wait up or do you want to go home?”
“I’ll stay. I could catch up on that TV show you recommended I watch.”
Harry gasped, rolling over so he was hovering over her. His face wore an expression of mocked shock, with his lips parted and eyes wide. For once, the worry had nearly completely escaped his eyes, warming Y/N’s chest. If only they would always feel this light.
“You’re going to watch without me? How dare you!”
Mischief sparkled in her eyes and she grinned. “That’s what you get.”
Harry smiled and leaned forward, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the skin of her neck. He missed her. All the time. The nights they spent together, arms around each other and with mouths nipping on bare skin, simply weren’t enough. Not when come morning, his Y/N was gone and replaced by someone who radiated uncertainty in the strength of their relationship. He wouldn’t dare complain. Especially not when her hands found his waist before travelling the short distance down to his boxers. Her nose nudged his cheek, then her lips found his. She kissed him, parting only to sigh his name.
Both were far too lost in each other to notice the screen of Harry’s phone light up, indicating the arrival of a text message, followed by another.
Unknown number, 14:23 pm
Hey, H! It’s Lucy. Got your number from Jeremy. It’s been a while?! But I’m back in town!
Unknown number, 14:26 pm
Y/N must’ve forgotten to pass on the message, but I’d like to meet up! Let me know when you’re free, I’m up for it whenever. Talk soon. x
A few hours later when all kisses she was willing to give and receive that morning were shared, Harry got dressed and left the flat to go meet Mica and some others at a bar. Y/N turned her head to make room for Harry’s lips to press to her cheek, the kiss heavy with goodbye, even when it was only for the rest of the evening. Then she watched as the door shut behind him. A heavy breath fell from her lips.
“Great”, she mumbled, hoping to silence the small voice in her head that urged her to run to the door and stop him from leaving, “Just as I wanted.”
Only that it wasn’t really. Lately, Y/N only knew two moods she could fall into. Either, she was happy and able to forget the troubles of the last week, under the conditions that Harry had to be there and either of them had to be naked. The other mood she couldn’t quite name. It was a strange and unwelcome mixture of anger, sadness and fatigue. With Harry gone, she didn’t feel happy at all.
Sat in a seating booth with an old fashioned in front of him, Harry did his best to keep his mind from drifting off to Y/N. Had it been wrong to leave her alone? Should he have told her of the texts that seemingly doubled the weight of the phone in his pocket? No. She would only worry too much, he told himself. An excuse that seemed sensible enough to him that he, upon seeing Lucy’s messages, ignored them and swallowed the words resting on his tongue that were begging to come out and tell Y/N. He was glad he’d picked up his phone before Y/N would’ve caught a glimpse and seen them. God know how horrid that would’ve ended.
“So how are you and my babe going?” Andrew, who sat opposite him, asked.
Harry sensed the under tone and appreciated that his friend had waited for Nadia and Mica to get more drinks before bringing it up. Andrew wasn’t present when Y/N learned of Harry’s previous intentions, but he’d heard the story.
“I still really don’t like it when you call her that”, Harry grumbled, making his friend laugh and apologize, “but she’s alright. We’re alright.”
Andrew gave him a small smile, not missing the tone in his voice. “Are things still weird?”
Harry nodded and took another sip of his drink. “Yeah, very. It’s not that we’re fighting a lot but... I sometimes feel like we’re... I don’t know.”
His hand pulled at the roots of his hair. He welcomed the small stinging sensation.
“Something’s changed”, Andrew concluded.
“Yes and I have no clue how to get us back”, by now Harry was almost whispering, the weight of his honesty almost painful, “But I’m trying. Constantly and she’s just... It’s tiring. Like, I realize that I have little room to complain because honestly I thought she’d break up with me on the spot. I’m lucky that she didn’t.”
Harry bit his lower lip, debating if he should voice the thoughts he had yet to share with anyone.
“I’m a little mad at her”, he confessed.
“I get that.”
“You do?” Harry asked, surprised.
Andrew nodded, his expression not at all judgemental how Harry had expected it to be. He thought his friend would find something to hit him with, or perhaps laugh. Instead, the sincerity in his eyes did wonders to Harry’s nerves, calming them and managing to tame the guilt he felt upon speaking his thoughts for the first time.
“Honestly, I’d be surprised if you weren’t by now”, Andrew stated, his tone gentle, “I understand Y/N’s shock at the information and obviously you definitely should’ve told her the minute you realized you were serious about her.”
Andrew took another sip of his drink, a weird looking, orange liquid Harry didn’t dare question, then continued, “And I adore her. But... well, it sounds to me like she’s punishing you. She’s not talking to you, I assume. She says everything is fine but nothing is how it used to be?”
Harry nodded. “Pretty much. And worse.”
“It’s a little as if you had cheated on her and she’s now punishing you for it. Which, Harry, you didn’t. You betrayed her trust in you, yes, but when it comes down to it, then it was just a crush. One that you were allowed to have.”
“Bit more than a cursh, if I’m honest. And it did over line with my relationship. That wasn’t okay.”
Andrew shrugged. “Agreed. But you and Lucy didn’t do anything together. You had her on your mind the first time you went out with Y/N. That sucks, sure, no doubt. But in all honesty, who is committed to a person after one date these days?”
“Y/N is”, Harry said easily, “I wish I would’ve been like that, too.”
“We all would want this big romantic start for a relationship”, Andrew shrugged, “For it to be perfect and sweet. But in truth, and again, I love Y/N, you didn’t owe her anything at the beginning of you two going out. And you apologized for your ulterior motives once she found out about them. You guys even fought pretty bad that same night as I’ve been told.”
“Don’t remind me”, Harry mumbled, the memory of their argument unwelcome.
“If I may be so honest”, Andrew said, “I think you should’ve either broken up then, or moved forward by now. I don’t think it’s fair of her that she keeps dragging this on. Considering that, again, you didn’t cheat on her.”
Harry sighed. His hands shook a little as he raised the class in front of him and gulped down the rest of its content. He couldn’t tell if he was relieved that he partially agreed with his friend, or afraid.
“Thanks for saying that, Andrew. I’m glad you don’t... I guess I’m glad someone doesn’t see me as a villain.”
“Of course. And please, don’t misinterpret what I’m saying, I really mean no offense to Y/N. If this is her way of healing then I guess it’s just a different way than what mine would be.”
“I know you don’t mean to offend her. Wouldn’t be calling her such inappropriate nicknames if you did.”
He laughed. “Is it better if I start calling you babe, as well?”
“Definitely not,” Harry chuckled, “But anyway, I would wish she’d pick a different road as well. She could shout at me, throw all my stuff down the stairs of my flat or key her name into my car. Even if it were a reaction as crazy as that one, at least we’d be going somewhere. Now we’re just... stuck.”
“Have you told her any of what you just said?”
“No, I’m too much of a coward to pick another fight with her.”
Andrew sighed, “Maybe Y/N is too afraid to be honest about how she feels or what she wants, too?”
Harry could practically feel how the rhythm of his heart changed and sped up. “You think she might want to break up but won’t tell me?”
“No, but I think the reason she’s being so weird is that perhaps she doesn’t want to tell you how she really feels. Maybe she’s angrier with you than she’s willing to admit.”
Before Harry could reply, Mica and Nadia approached their table, beers in their hands whilst stuck in a hectic debate, too preoccupied with their arguments to notice the serious atmosphere at the table. Harry shot Andrew a look, silently thanking him again but agreeing, that they wouldn’t continue talking about it.
Andrew easily joined his friends in the conversation while Harry sat back and pretended to listen. Instead his mind wandered back to Y/N.
He knew that she wasn’t thinking about breaking up with him. They wouldn’t be having as much sex as they did if that was the case. Y/N wouldn’t want him near her if she really intended to end their relationship soon. But maybe Andrew was right and there were feelings she was yet to express to him. She’d said so much that night, but since then, whenever the topic came up - even after encountering Lucy - Y/N barely said anything. Maybe it was time that he forced her to talk, and simultaneously force himself to hear what he really didn’t want to. Otherwise he didn’t know how they would be able to move forward.
“Harry?” Nadia poked his shoulder, “is that okay?”
“I’m sorry,” Harry cleared his throat, “I was a bit distracted. What’s up?”
“Lucy said she’d like to come by, if that’s alright. But I’ll tell her not to if it’s weird for you.”
He frowned. Lucy? The unease in his stomach grew and his voice stuttered, “Why does she have your number?”
“Jeremy shared it with her. They met up a couple days ago.”
Of course he did. Lucy. After months of not hearing from her, not caring about her - she was back. And somehow would not leave him alone. Harry sighed and momentarily rested his face in his palms. Then he shook his head and looked at his friends.
“It’s fine, but I’m gonna go before she gets here.”
“No, no, that’s not-”
“It’s fine”, Harry interrupted Mica and Andrew, “Really. It’s cool if you want to see her, she’s your friend, too. But I’m not going to sit opposite her when Y/N doesn’t know and isn’t here, as well. After everything that’s happened... sounds like a recipe for disaster. M’sorry.”
“No, you know what, I’ll tell her not to come by tonight. She’d understand”, Nadia insisted, and reached over the table to squeeze Harry’s wrist gently before going to grab her phone.
He smiled. “Thanks.”
“Ehr, guys”, Andrew cleared his throat, his head turned towards the entrance of the bar, “I guess it’s a little too late for that ‘cause she’s already here.”
“I don’t understand you.”
Y/N barked a laugh. “Thanks.”
Kate giggled on the other side of the line. “Sorry, but you didn’t call me thinking I would mince words, did you?”
“Maybe I should’ve forgiven him by now, or do you think I’m making a mistake? Am I being too dramatic?” Y/N asked, her voice much more shy than she would’ve liked as she tried to piece together her confusion.
“You’re not too dramatic. If I were in your position Harry Styles would’ve got his arse kicked. I think you’ve let him off easily and now you regret it.”
Y/N frowned, her bottom lip raw from her teeth constantly pulling at it. Despite the homour in Kate’s voice meant to soothe her, Y/N couldn’t quite shake the guilt weighing on her shoulders.
“I don’t know... we did fight pretty bad about it.”
“I know”, Kate agreed, “But you haven’t since. You’re just being weird with him and my guess is that is because you want to be over it but you’re not. You want to not be angry at him anymore but you are.”
“Just maybe?” Kate asked, the teasing smile audible.
“Probably. Yes. But I’m so sick of being mad at him, too. I want to be happy again. We were so happy. Sometimes I wish I would’ve never found out. It didn’t hurt not knowing, all the pain happened after.”
“Now you’re sounding like a proper idiot.”
“You really did mean it when you said you wouldn’t mince words.”
Kate joined her laughter, “I’m sorry! Tell me when you want me to be nicer to you and I will stifle comments like that. Promise.”
“I shouldn’t have sent him away tonight.”
Y/N, surprised at Kate’s words, set her phone on speaker and opened the door to his bedroom. “What do you mean you’re agreeing with me. You just said you would be kicking Harry’s arse if you were me.”
“And I would be. But honestly Y/N... you should’ve broken up with him then and there.”
“What? No, I could never-”
“Let me finish. You should’ve ended it then, or you should work on moving forward with him. Solve the issue together, not you on your own and he by himself. It’s obvious that that’s not working out so far. I say you both have to learn how to be honest, completely honest, not only half way. And then solve your relationship together.”
“Wow”, Y/N mumbled, her hands holding the knob to Harry’s drawer where he’d made room for some of her clothing, as she stood frozen in motion at her friend’s words.
“I know”, Kate repeated, “Now go after him and fix it.”
“Already on it. I’m getting dressed right now.”
“Great! Which bar did he say they were going to? I’ll book you an uber.”
“Why didn’t you text me back?”
It took Lucy less than 20 minutes of being there to corner Harry. He’d smiled uncomfortably upon her arrival, making no effort to get up and greet her like one might expect an old friend to do. Afterwards he avoided all eye contact as well as her questions, grateful that it was always one of his three friends present who chimed in and answered, as if Lucy’s interrogations were directed to all of them and not just the brooding guy ignoring her. It didn’t go unnoticed that his behaviour was infuriating to the girl, who couldn’t quite understand this change in the man who always used to be more than kind and sweet with her.
After drinking for a while, Harry couldn’t fight needing to get up and use the loo. He excused himself and left, hoping that Lucy wouldn’t follow him. Of course, he was unlucky. Upon his return, Lucy wasn’t by the table or the bar, but instead waiting in the middle of his path towards his friends. Leaving no room for him to avoid her.
“I must’ve not gotten them. Sorry.”
“Bullshit”, Lucy called him out, “You left me on read.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at him expectantly. Her eyes shone, her lips were painted perfectly. But to Harry, she had never been less attractive.
“Why the hell are you being so weird?” Lucy groaned.
“Oh, you are!” Lucy laughed, an evil and unkind sound as she closed her hands into fists angrily, gripping the sleeves of her top, “I came here, expecting to see my nice friend Harry but instead you’ve been ignoring me and now you’re rude! I was gone for months, how the fuck did I do something that gives you the right to be an asshole to me now?”
Harry’s head hurt. When was the last time he hadn’t been burdened by problems caused by the girl in front of him? In his raising anger, he ignored his mind reminding him that technically, Lucy hadn’t done anything. She wasn’t the one lying to Y/N. He noticed some heads turning to look at them, their exchange being much louder than what he would’ve liked it to be. He also noticed his friends staring at him, Mica in particular looking uncomfortable. His gaze moved back to Lucy, so he didn’t notice Andrew nudge Nadia, who noticed his expression and turned to look towards the door. Instead he looked at Lucy, who was fuming.
“We used to be so close”, she complained, her voice whiny and heavy with annoyance.
Harry closed his eyes, sighing. The dull pain in his head intensified.
“Can we please not do this.”
“Do what? Speak to each other? You’re my friend!”
“I don’t want to be your fucking friend, okay?” Harry finally shouted.
Lucy’s mouth shut. Her eyes widened and she uncrossed her arms. Her lips fought a smile while somebody else’s eyes began to water. If Harry had followed his friend’s view, then he would’ve noticed why their heads turned towards the door of the bar. He would’ve seen who had arrived, despite telling him that she didn’t want to come with him. He would’ve noticed who also heard him firing words at Lucy, in the middle of a bar and with no care of causing a scene.
Y/N couldn’t speak.
She stood frozen by the bar, her eyes looking at what was an image she’d fought off plenty of times in her nightmares. Harry standing opposite the beautiful girl he once had feelings for, telling her that he didn’t want to be friends. He wanted more. She harshly bit down on her already raw lip. So this was it, she thought. She’d lost him.
Before she could bolt, Harry continued to speak, still unaware of her presence. His tone gave her chills, for she had never heard him sound quite this angry.
“I don’t fucking understand you, Lucy”, he exhaled, voice lower but still harsh, “Why did you have to first corner my girlfriend and now me, huh? We don’t want anything to do with you.”
“I-” Lucy gasped, “I didn’t do shit to either of you.”
“Obviously, considering you were gone for months.”
“So you’re mad at me because I left?” Lucy’s expression softened and she reached for him, only to be shrugged off.
“I don’t fucking care that you left! I care that since you’re back, you’re trying to mess with my relationship! You know I’m with Y/N, why would you text me and why would you just show up here?”
“You okay?” Y/N flinched, surprised to see Andrew appear beside her and draw her attention away from her angry boyfriend.
Andrew had gotten up from the booth the second he noticed Y/N standing frozen in place. They’d let her down as friends once already. It wouldn’t happen a second time. In her shocked state, he quickly wrapped an arm around her and guided her to the table where Nadia already scooted back to make some room so she could sit. Nadia squeezed her shoulder in comfort.
“It’s going to be okay”, she muttered soothingly.
“Thank you”, Y/N whispered, suddenly overwhelmed. Her boyfriend was shouting at his former crush and people, who she never truly considered her own friends, especially not in the past weeks, were huddled together in a booth with her, making sure that she was okay.
“Here”, Mica handed her a glass, “It’s only water.”
“I didn’t know you were still with Y/N”, Lucy cried, earning everybody’s attention again, “and regardless - on what a tight fucking leash does she have you that a friend can’t even text you about hanging out?”
Y/N’s heart fluttered. Texted him? Why hadn’t he told her about that?
Harry’s eyes were almost completely dark, the anger somehow replacing their green. “Don’t mention her.”
“Oh, what a cliché, Styles. Don’t pretend like you have to protect her from me, I didn’t do anything to hurt her. Never. I didn’t even tell her that you were in love with me, even though you had your tongue down her throat 24/7!”
The arm around Y/N’s shoulder tightened and Nadia scoffed angrily. Y/N didn’t notice how her own hands turned into fists. Her stomach knotted and her legs felt like jelly, to weak to carry her out the door.
Harry looked like he’d just been slapped. His eyes were wide and his skin was red.
“How dare you.” This time he sounded quiet.
Lucy shrugged. “It’s true.”
Then Harry surprised everyone. He laughed. “Not even close! I may have been completely wrong about who you were, but do not confuse what I felt for you as love. Now excuse me, but I’m done entertaining your childishness. I have a girlfriend to go home to and you surely got your fill of drama for the day. The only thing I want from you is to leave us the fuck alone from now on.”
At last, Harry stepped around Lucy, his intention to return to their table only to get his jacket and then leave. But he froze in place. Because sitting between his friends was Y/N, her expression completely unreadable but her arms full of his things. Without saying anything she got up. Harry’s heart dropped.
Had she really just witnessed all of it? He wanted to cry. Now she surely would break up with him.
Y/N excited the booth, her eyes never leaving his. He could’ve fainted when her mouth twitched with a soft smile.
“Let’s go?” Her quiet request had him melt and Harry crossed the distance between them with fast strides.
He could’ve rejoiced when her hand found his the moment he was close enough. She held onto his fingers tightly, before turning around and leading him out of the bar, away from his friends and Lucy, who couldn’t quite believe what she was witnessing. The Harry from last year would have never chosen to walk away. He would’ve never left without resolving the argument and being in her favour again. But this Harry was out the door before she could quite realize what had happened. He stepped outside, his hand still clasped tightly in Y/N’s who refused to let go of both his hand as well as his things.
“Let’s walk, okay?” Y/N suggested, and even though it had again been worded as a question, she didn’t wait for his reply and instead pulled him along with her.
“I owe you a massive apology.”
Harry frowned and shook his head. “You don’t.”
They hadn’t said anything on their 25 minute walk back to Y/N’s flat, which was closer to the bar than his, but they refused to take as much as five steps without stopping to kiss each other. Y/N had been the first to do so, pulling him harshly to a stop before reaching up her hand to clasp the back of his neck. She tugged him down and kissed his lips, giving him no time to quite fathom what was happening. She let go equally as fast to peer up at him and ask if her actions were okay, but Harry didn’t answer and instead bent down and kissed her again. After a while they continued to walk, but stopped shortly after again to kiss some more. That was why the usually 15 minutes journey took them 25.
Now they sat opposite each other on the carpeted floor of Y/N’s living room. She’d dimmed the light a little, giving the room a warm and golden light while Harry had connected his phone to her speakers to quietly play her favourite mix of songs. His back rested against the couch while she sat on her knees in between his bent legs. His hands held the glass of wine she’d handed him, but he had yet to take a sip. Y/N rose to kneel, her hand resting gently on top of his knee. Any other day he might’ve dared to make a cheeky joke, but on this night he was quiet.
The tenderness in her eyes had him feeling weak as she spoke: “I do. I’m so incredibly sorry, Harry.”
“So am I, Y/N, love. I-”
“No, please”, she whispered, stopping his rant before it could start, “you’ve apologized to me so many times already and I just wouldn’t let it go. I put us both through so much more hurt than necessary. I should have trusted you more and allowed you to help me fix us. Instead I made you worry, pushed you away. I’m just so sorry...” Y/N trailed off, hoping the sincerity in her words would convey just how sorry she was.
Harry smiled softly. “I just want us to be okay again. I miss you.”
Carefully, and with eyes never leaving his to gage his reaction, Y/N crawled closer. Harry’s heart sped up and his tummy warmed. She gently took the glass of wine from his hand and set it aside next to hers on the floor. Harry smirked at her and lowered his legs, allowing his favourite person in the world to climb into his lap. Y/N laughed softly and looped her arms around his neck while gently squeezing her legs around his hips.
Y/N’s fingers scratched the back of his neck. “I love you so much.”
“I love you.”
Harry’s eyes closed momentarily at her words, happiness and relief flooding his body, chasing away all the fear he’d been tormented with for days. She nuzzled her nose against his and smiled.
“I can’t believe you stood up to her like that, all for me”, she said, “But I should’ve believed in you and trusted your commitment to me without needing to see that first. I’m sorry. So sorry, Harry.”
“Hey”, Harry whispered, his lips pressing to her forehead, “No more apologizing. I feel like we’ve done enough of that for a lifetime.”
His hands rested heavily on her hips, moving in slow and soothing circles. Y/N leaned into his hold and nodded. “I agree.”
“Good. I love you.”
Her fingers at the back of his neck curled against his skin. “I love you, too, Harry. And I trust you. I promise to never hold something from the past against you again, ever.”
“I promise you that I’ve got no more secrets. And that I’ve blocked Lucy even before she came to the bar.”
Y/N sighed at his words and kissed his cheek. Even if Lucy wasn’t out of their lives and would come back another time, they knew it would be okay. Because never again would either of them have to face a battle alone.
Harry’s lips found hers, not at all hesitant for the first time in too long. He gently licked her bottom lip, catching Y/N’s laugh at the sensation and the bliss of being together again. Really together.
“I love you”, she whispered, closing the distance quickly after speaking the words to kiss him again.
“And I you”, he swore.
Harry’s hand grasped her cheek softly, low enough to halfway hold her neck. Her tongue swiped across his own, her nose pressed to his. Their breathing grew heavier as their mouths continued to meet and while they would usually pull away by now to catch a breath, they would happily grow light headed from lack of air. Tonight, they did not want to part. Only when the music changed and the soft rhythm of one song was replaced by the all too familiar and rapid strums of guitars, did Y/N pull away. Her brows were raised, but humour shone in her eyes.
“Change that song right now.”
Harry burst out laughing. He could catch one more kiss from her before reaching over to where his phone was, swiping his finger across the screen. Dolly Parton fell silent and Harry smirked up at his girlfriend, who couldn’t help but smile as well. He was aware that he might as well delete “Jolene” from her playlist right now. She surely wouldn’t listen to that song again anytime soon.
That’s it! I wrote the majority of this piece in one day, hungover and sleep deprived. I really wanted to deliver it to you today.
I hope you enjoyed this as much as I love it. Please let me know your thoughts. x
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Imagine threatening to tie Loki to a bed and cuddle him until he likes himself
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I have a request, with Remus Lupin (from Remus’ POV or the reader’s, I don’t mind) were him and the reader -who’s the newest order member- have been dating ever since she joined the order but the other members think she’s only with him for a better position at the order and don’t really like her because of that. Remus didn’t originally want to say anything to them because they were his friends but he eventually snaps and stands up for her.
professor lupin / reader
summary: everything in the ask — angsty Remus, some fluff ! Lupin’s POV.
The last days of August are always unfailingly dreary; that year especially, the ground sodden with early rain, overcast skies and chilly winds. Even the cut-off Ottery St Catchpole had been struck by that sweeping mood, the village itself quiet, wilting flowers and curtains drawn shut, not to be opened again until Christmas.
Some of the Order had taken up residence at The Burrow for the end of the summer, the six of us (not including the already roomed Molly and Arthur) squeezed into the disused bedrooms, queuing for the bathroom, awkwardly sliding past each other in the kitchen. And, of course, tensions were high anyway, what with the goings on at the Ministry. Each night we’d take our places around the kitchen table, exchanging half-developed plans of action and snide comments. It wouldn’t be long, though, before I recognised most of those snide comments were directed at her.
‘Fakes,’ Moody had said. ‘That’s what’s stopping us. The corrupt. The fame-seekers, lookin’ to make a name for themselves without doing any of the actual work. No wonder the Ministry’s falling as we speak.’
I remember how he shifted his good eye in her direction, his magical one whizzing and whirring, clicking as it hit the sides of the case. Even more distinctly, I remember how she reached for my hand under the table, her mouth set in a frown.
Since, their distaste became more apparent, or perhaps I just noticed it more. Molly would often pull Arthur aside, whispering something, her eyes drifting surreptitiously in our direction.
If she suggested something at a meeting (which, I might add, she was at perfect liberty to do; she was, after all, a member of the Order), Moody would either shoot the idea down, or — even worse — nobody would say anything.
And of course she knew.
She’d hardly leave my side, not even daring to make herself a cup of tea out of fear they’d think she was ‘intruding’. We went about our days together, crafting our own timetable to navigate the hours. When she woke, she’d tiptoe out of bed, sleepy and cold, and open the curtains. We shared the spare room on the left side of the house, small but apt for two. She didn’t mind, after time, if I watched her dress. I often did, propping my head up on the pillows, gazing at her bare shoulders and breasts, the small hairs on her legs and tummy. She’d smile lazily back, suggesting I get up too, ‘before you get a stiffy’. She always had such a way with words.
Vulgar as she could be, it was gentle the manner in which she’d bend down and kiss me, handing me my dressing gown and following me downstairs. I’d make her tea and toast, marmalade (homemade), and we’d sit together in the kitchen. There’d be creaking above us as the other Order members began to stir, Tonks and Molly usually being the first downstairs. A quick, tight smile would be all she received, though I’d usually get a full ‘good morning’.
Sometimes we walked, exploring the overgrown backfields, but as it grew darker in the evenings, we’d stay in. We’d talk about whatever was in our minds to say, then watch the shadows crawl across the fields, and the sun fall behind the hills, entre le chien et le loup. We were intimate in the early hours of the morning, when we were certain everyone was asleep. For me, at least, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant at the Burrow.
That was until that evening.
It started the usual way: a small dinner of allotment food, vegetables and the sort, half-glasses of wine, dull, repetitive conversation topics. Tea and coffee were served afterwards, steaming mugs set before us all, and she warmed her hands around the china. But as the conversation turned to the Death Eaters, as it sometimes did, there was a noticeable tension in the air.
‘Sighted in London, Cardiff, Leeds — the list goes on. Almost every major city in the country has had some sort of encounter,’ Kingsley said lowly, shaking his head.
‘Well, wha’d’ya expect? No Aurors around. It’s the lazy, younger ones that’ll finish us all off.’ Mundungus curled his lip upward, his tiny, dark eyes landing on her.
‘Or perhaps thieves.’ I mumbled, raising a brow at him. He tutted, grumbling something into his tea.
‘A lot of those younger workers are just looking for better money! It’s all over Witch Weekly. I mean — I don’t doubt that they’re underpaid, but should it mean that we suffer because of that?’ Molly tried gently. She looked to her husband, who avoided my gaze entirely. Under the table, I felt her hand reach for mine. I squeezed it reassuringly.
‘It’s not that complicated,’ Moody cleared his throat, spluttering unpleasantly. ‘They’re taking good jobs, doing them poorly, then getting to the top. Simple as.’
‘Not all of them.’ She said quietly. Heads turned. Molly scoffed, and began to clear away some of the empty mugs. I held my breath slightly.
‘Oh?’ Moody’s mouth formed a straight line, his thick eyebrows lowered.
‘I don’t think it’s a particularly fair statement.’
‘Rather rich, from you.’
‘Alastor,’ I warned. Kingsley and Tonks shifted slightly, giving each other tense glances.
‘What?’ She said. She’d let go of my hand, placing both of hers in her lap.
‘You heard what he said.’ Mundungus said, shaking his head disappointedly.
‘Come on.’ She hardened her jaw, frowning slightly.
‘We just thought it was odd,’ Moody began, each word loaded with sarcasm. ‘That as soon as you join up, you get friendly with him,’ he raised an eyebrow at me, and she scowled. ‘I mean, doesn’t that strike you as a bit of a — how shall I say? — stroke of luck?’
‘And why would I need luck?’
‘You’re looking for a better position,’
‘Since when?!’ She looked around desperately, scoffing incredulously.
‘Since — ’
‘That’s enough,’ I hadn’t spoken loudly, but I had spoken with force, force enough to turn the kitchen to silence again. ‘Go upstairs.’ I told her gently. She shook her head.
‘Just — please,’ I nodded to the door, and, with a huff, she got up and left.
It was incredibly telling, the way everyone grew awkward when she left. Now they’d lost their lesser-than, they had nothing to make fun of. Arthur was beginning to sweat, Kingsley looking equally as guilty.
‘Alright, what is the meaning of this? Hm?’
No one spoke.
‘What, are you — trying to get rid of me? Is that it?’
‘No one wants to get rid of you, Remus.’ Arthur said, as if I was being irrational.
‘Fine, then what? Is she … too young? Too poor, too clever, too dim?’
‘Someone say something.’ I chuckled in disbelief.
‘What, do you want us to lie?’ Tonks shrugged bashfully. I sunk my head into my hands, frustrated. Rubbing my eyes, I looked around.
‘Of course I don’t want you to lie.’
‘We just want what’s best for the Order.’ Molly said.
‘And that is?’
‘Honest, proper — hard-working — ’
‘Listen to yourself.’ I scoffed.
‘ — loyal, and — ’
‘You’re fucking joking?’
‘Don’t swear at my wife, Remus.’ Arthur interjected, jabbing a finger at me. I bit my words back, shooting a remorseful look at Molly. She remained stern, hands now firm on her hips.
‘You, all of you, haven’t even given her a chance.’
‘You’ve been pretty quiet about it so far.’ Moody observed.
‘I didn’t want to say anything in case you all decided to grow up and play nicely. I mean, it’s childish! You think she’s just in this to score some brownie points at the Ministry?’
‘The lassie’s young, I doubt she really know the seriousness of the war.’
‘Fuck off, Fletcher. As if you don’t stare at her legs and arse every time you’re in the same room, you sappy little pervert.’
Mundungus’ mouth dropped, then clopped closed again. Tonks laughed in surprise, and Molly pretended not to have heard. The others looked around awkwardly, unsure of what to say. My heart was racing. Tremendous confidence was swelling up inside of me.
‘I hope you all know what exhausting stress you’ve caused. If you want her gone, you’ll lose the both of us.’
With that, I stood, turned, and made for the stairs. Nobody spoke as I climbed them, only shifting glances and the eventual clinking of mugs being stacked in the sink ensued.
I found her that night in our room, lighting the candles on the bedside stand. She flinched when the door creaked open, almost knocking the lit lamp. I stood looking a while, wondering if I’d really done the right thing, wondering if I’d really done anything at all.
She sat down on the bed. I did the same, placing a hand onto her cheek. A few cherry blemishes lay in kisses across her face, and dark, dusty under eyes where she hadn’t been sleeping well.
‘I don’t know what to tell you, darling,’ I sighed. ‘I tried.’
‘I was listening,’ she admitted, taking my hand into hers and placing it in her lap. She gulped nervously, examining my fingers. ‘They really don’t seem to like me.’
She gave a false, defeated chuckle. I had almost no response. How I wished I could comfort her.
‘You should’ve seen their faces when I called Dung a pervert.’
‘Sappy little pervert,’ she recited, smiling slightly. ‘Brilliant.’
Finally, her eyes met with mine. They seemed to swell with longing, a need for acceptance, the feeling which I knew far too well.
‘I love you, you know.’ I said.
‘I love you too. Thank you, for trying.’
‘You don’t need to thank me, sweetheart. Come on, get under.’
I pulled up the duvet, kicking my socks off onto the wooden floorboards. We sank in, and I pulled her close to me.
‘Does Dung really look at my arse?’
‘Regrettably. It is though, if I may say so, a lovely arse.’
‘You may say so. But yours,’ she mimicked a wolf whistle. ‘Professor.’
‘Do be quiet. Will we be — uh — staying up late, tonight?’
‘You mean — staying up, staying up?’ She wiggled her eyebrows.
‘Mm.’ I nodded, wetting my bottom lip with my tongue.
‘I’ll live with perhaps.’
‘You’d better,’ she said, burrowing her head into my chest. She took my hand again, placing it on her head, urging me to stroke her hair.
‘Beautiful.’ I mumbled, placing a kiss on the top of her head.
‘Not as beautiful as you,’ she giggled.
‘Alright,’ I smiled, watching as she closed her eyes momentarily. ‘You sappy little pervert.’
A/N: thank you all for being so patient and lovely ! have received lots of nice good luck messages etc. hope you enjoyed the slightly depressing and unresolved story.
taglist: @bloodhon3yx @invisiblegirl360 @badbittieee @urgingforyou @3llla @bychrissi @subtlendelicate @bendywires @real-name-taken @faerieandfishsticks @normccartney @kimyugyecm @missetbilu @turningtoclown @bettyscardigan8 @naimadrawsstuff @howellatme @lilbbyyyy @moony-n-snape
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secret matching tattoos ~ pete davidson
word count: 1148
“I was hoping you could do a Pete Davidson and Reader story where they pick out tattoos for each other but they can’t see until it’s done kind of like that show with Snooki”
description: when you’re already covered in tattoos it’s nothing to let your significant other pick your next one, especially when you get to pick theirs in return
pairing: pete davidson x female!reader
masterlist (one, two)
“If you pick out a dick to be tattooed on my back I’m going to kill you,” you said as you laid down on the tattoo artist’s table.
“I’m not gonna ask them to tattoo a dick on your back,” Pete said as he continued to scroll through the ideas on his phone. “Although that is tempting.”
“I will pick out something far worse to be tattooed on you, but I’ll ask them to put it somewhere that everyone will see it.”
Pete smiled in amusement. He glanced down at his phone again before showing your tattoo artist whatever he had finally chosen to get tattooed on you.
You were both bored one day, neither one of you had work or anything important happening, so you decided to do something fun and go to get new tattoos. However, there was a twist on how it was going to happen. You had suggested picking out secret tattoos for one another, something that neither of you would be able to see until it was tattooed on your bodies. Pete was a bit skeptical but also intrigued by the idea.
You had decided to get one on your back since that was one of the only places you truly had available where you were covered in tattoos. Pete decided to get his on his arm since it was somewhere everyone could see. You had already chosen what his was going to be: the date of your anniversary, all together without any dashes or anything, with a small red heart at the end.
The tattoo artist went to make a stencil for your tattoo while Pete sat next to you. You turned your head to look up at him the best you could while still laying on your stomach.
“Should I go prepare for mine, too?” he asked. “So that we can be done at the same time.”
You raised an eyebrow at him. “The one I picked for you is small, it’ll only take like 10 minutes maybe.”
A guilty look crossed his face. “Oh...mine is gonna be a bit longer.”
You nearly jumped up from the table. “What?! How big is it?”
Before he could respond, the tattoo artist walked back in and asked, “So, should I do this with or without color?”
You glared up at Pete again, realizing you’d have to be on this table for a long time.
It wasn’t like you hadn’t gotten big tattoos before. You had a few on your legs and one on your arm, but you preferred smaller tattoos - simple ones. Ones that only took maybe half an hour then they were finished. You weren’t exactly prepared to have a big one tattooed on you, especially since you were sure it was going to hurt like a bitch.
You made yourself comfortable on the table as the tattoo artist positioned the stencil on your back between your shoulder blades. You looked up at Pete once more before the needle touched your back and you had to try and stop yourself from jumping in pain.
The fact that the tattoo was somewhere you couldn’t see made it so much worst. You had no idea if it was nearly finished or halfway or if nothing was done at all. You tried to guess what was being done but you had absolutely no idea. You couldn’t picture anything the lines were creating in your head.
“If this is just a series of scribbly lines I’m changing my idea to a giant dick right on your forehead,” you muttered as you winced again.
Pete chuckled. “It’s not a bunch of scribbles! Just wait, it’ll be done soon.”
You peaked at him. “Are you sure?”
Pete placed a hand on your shoulder and you felt your body relax under his touch. You were glad you had gotten him to stay, even though his tattoo definitely wouldn’t have taken as long.
You nearly sighed in relief when the tattoo artist sprayed the cool water on your back to wash off the tattoo. He applied the protective bandage over the tattoo and officially declared that you were good to look at it.
You had decided to go with the simple black theme you had with all your tattoos, so you saw a bouquet of colorless flowers between your shoulder blades, a colorless bow tying them together.
“Flowers?” you asked Pete.
“Yeah. According to the internet they all mean love in one way or another.”
Upon looking closer, you realized the bouquet was an assortment of roses, daises, and carnations. You knew the meaning behind roses, everyone did, but you had no idea about the others. Knowing how much thought he had put into it filled you with warmth.
“It’s beautiful,” you said, turning to face Pete. “Thank you babe.”
He smiled at you and leaned down to kiss you.
You pulled your t-shirt back on and gestured for him to sit in the chair next. “Okay darling, your turn.”
He chuckled awkwardly as he sat down. “Part of me was hoping you’d forget about that.”
“No way! We’re both getting tattoos, it’s only fair.” You nodded for the tattoo artist to follow you so you could discuss your idea with him.
You were amused by Pete’s nervousness. He genuinely wasn’t sure what you were going to permanently put on his body. You played it up a little like you really had picked something awful to have tattooed, your giggles gave you away.
Wanting the tattoo to be a surprise, you made Pete face you as much as he could the entire time. Every time he’d turn towards the arm getting tattooed, you’d turn his head back to you. When it was finished, Pete had to look at the tattoo for a long time to try and figure out what it was.
“It’s our anniversary,” you finally told him. “With a little heart at the end.”
“So it is,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “That’s so cute.”
“I just thought you needed a permanent reminder that I’m gonna be around for a long time.”
“I’m sure there’s a less painful way you could’ve told me that, but I do really like the idea. Thank you.”
You paid for your tattoos and headed out to Pete’s car. You winced as your back touched the seat. Okay, trying to sit and lay down is going to suck.
Pete chuckled as he started the car. “You really thought I was going to have a dick tattooed on you.”
“Listen, I wouldn’t put it past you, okay?”
“Well, I did think you were going to do something to me too, so I guess we’re even.”
You smiled at him. “But look at us! We chose cute things instead. We’re a mature couple.”
He gave me a look. “Let’s not go too far now.”
You giggled and kissed his cheek.
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Okay but just imagine a naga doing this to you?? Of course, they very quickly realize their mistake and apologize while backing off, but after your surprise wears off, you offer to help them with their...dilemma.
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john lennon arriving to sign books with yoko ono in 1971
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venus among the stars | fred weasley
pairing: fred weasley x gn!reader
warnings: none, just fluff and babie freddie
prompt: "you awfully know me so much for someone who doesn't talk to me," "that doesn't mean i don't observe you,"
a/n: i just realised after i wrote this that james phelps (fred weasley) is really an astronomer! this is coincidental and not really planned. i just can't help but associate sleeping at last's venus with fred. :>
summary: fred had been at the astronomy tower for some time now. he loved looking at the stars and planets, little did he know, he was already venus in somebody's eyes.
"Where are you heading off, Freddie?" George asked as he watched Fred stand up while messily putting all of his quills and parchment away. "The tower, I could pretty much use a breather right now. Umbridge's a pain in the arse." Fred muttered, not minding to listen to whatever George had to say in response - he was too clouded in his mind to do so, anyway.
Fred had been on the receiving end of the stress that was inherent to being a seventh year. He knew George had it too, but he was in awe of how he can easily manage it as if it were something not too much of a deal.
At some point, he envied how George seemed like he got everything sorted out. He had to give him the appreciation for that. Hey, George was always the one who assessed most of their pranks; from that, it wasn't new knowledge to Fred if George wasn't that stressed out over life in general.
That is why he had been in the Astronomy Tower more than usual. Looking at the constellations each night, reminiscing his second year in Hogwarts and how he was trying to memorise the name of constellations at the back of his head - something he took pride in himself, he was fascinated with Astronomy, that loud boy. He found calm within the stars and the planets.; and the occurrence of Umbridge made him find a significant purpose other than peace: sanity. That was why Fred had been in the Astronomy Tower regularly.
Little did he know or maybe not, someone was observing him for some quite time now. All along, Fred knew he was alone. The student lurking seated at the last step of the Astronomy Tower proved otherwise. Y/N had seen Fred one time in the Astronomy Tower one night they had been later than their usual time in visiting the tower.
To Y/N, Fred was beauty. They couldn't deny it. The night of the Yule Ball they had seen Fred in its wool vest and black coat with his hair falling perfectly as if it were like dominoes, he had never left Y/N's mind.
Now, Y/N had dedicated constellations to Fred more often than not. He had been something that had given them hope. His smiles and laughs had become Y/N's source of happiness as well; and as the year progressed and the arrival of Umbridge had manifested in Hogwarts, they couldn't help but notice the light in Fred's eyes diminish increasingly.
They had been debating over themselves about it for some quite time now. They had always been wanting to approach Fred, but they were too scared to do so. They had placed Fred in a pedestal, unwillingly, at that. But they couldn't help it, he was ethereal. A figure of magic and love rolled into one.
Tonight was one of those times. They had seen Fred in the Great Hall, writing in dinner tonight; which was very unusual of him. When Fred had gotten up to go to the Astronomy Tower - they presume - they had waited out a bit before following him in his tracks.
Which leads to tonight, with Y/N seated on the last steps of the stairs. They were looking at Fred's face lost in thought, arms leaning on the rails of the tower, moonlight illuminating the crevices of his face.
Y/N felt the unexplainable pull towards Fred. But even though they had been experiencing that for quite some time, they couldn't find any strength in them to actually approach them. He was too high, the Fred Weasley. And who were they? Y/N Y/L/N. To them, it was such a laughable concept.
"How long have you been here?" Fred asked as he towered over the seated figure, making Y/N choke on air and stand up rather messily. "Oh – about that, uh – I have been here for just like – like now?" they reasoned, hands instantly shaking and sweating up out of embarrassment and butterflies.
Fred looked at them and licked his lips. "Oh, were you going to the Tower?"
"I mean, I am technically at the Tower, anyway, so..." they trailed off, internally slapping themselves for such a response.
The ginger boy chuckled, "Oh, sorry. You're right. I'm leaving already, anyway. The tower is yours."
"Right," they answered quickly, earning yet another mental slap.
Fred smiled and excused himself, Y/N trying their best not to turn around to follow his trail.
"Oh, and," they heard Fred call after them.
Y/N turned their body towards the direction of his voice, they had terrible eyesight especially when it's dark. And it's not helping the situation as Fred was already at the bottom of the stairs.
"You are welcome to join me anytime." he smiled and turned away from Y/N's dumbfounded figure.
The stiff fellow then shook their head whilst smiling to themselves. They now went to replace Fred's then place, smiling at the clumps of stars at the pitch black sky.
Days passed and Y/N had been trying to catch Fred in the Astronomy Tower, but they had not been met with the familiar figure of the ginger-haired twin.
"Waiting for someone?"
Just as when Y/N almost gave up in trying to catch Fred, there goes the Weasley leaning at the frame just a few meters away from the staircase. "Yeah," Y/N smiled, "I was waiting for him for three days, actually."
Fred frowned, guilt consuming him instantly. "I'm sorry, I got caught up with my studies."
"Oh, don't be sorry. I was just kidding, Fred."
He let out a faux exhale, "I thought you were serious, Y/N."
"You know my name?"
The boy furrowed their eyebrows. "Should I not?"
"No, no. It's that we just - you don't talk to me that much..." they trailed off.
"Ah," Fred pushed himself from the doorframe, walking towards the side of Y/N who has been watching his every step. "We may not talk that much, but that doesn't mean I haven't noticed you."
Y/N looked bewildered, making Fred smile more. "I – uh, may I ask when, and how?"
"We've been going here for weeks now, Y/N."
"Yeah, and –"
"You like the moon, correct?"
"Your favourite moon is Callisto."
"You awfully know me so much for someone who doesn't talk to me." Y/N chuckled. "That doesn't mean I don't observe you," Fred countered, meeting Y/N's curious eyes that he had been wanting to look into forever – much more often than the stars at the sky.
Y/N took a huge leap of faith, scooting closer towards Fred, leaning their head on his shoulder albeit strugglingly. "If I hadn't liked you for a long time, I would've been running off the staircase now." Y/N kid, as Fred laughed in response.
"I saw you here last week, actually," Fred started. "I wanted to look at the stars that night because they seem so serene, you know?"
Y/N hummed. "They're silent beauty."
"Just like yours," Fred whispered. "I never knew I'd find you in the midst of those beautiful constellations, Y/N."
As Fred was met with silence as a response, he took that opportunity to continue with what he's been dying to say since the moment he saw them. He leaned his head on top of Y/N's, "You found me, Y/N."
"What do you mean, Fred?"
"You pulled me into focus." he whispered back, as serenity found its way in Fred's whole being.
Maybe the year wasn't going to be so bad. Fred, being the lad who always had perfected executions of the things he found fascinating, had found Venus when he was experimenting with his calculations. An astronomer at best, Fred had found his whole universe, Y/N; who was beautiful as endless.
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Dancing in the Rain
This is for my 200 follower celebration!
requested by @kitty0621<33
Kaz walked downstairs after looking for his girlfriend in her room but couldn’t find her anywhere.
Nina looked up and smiled before pointing to the window, “She’s outside, look.”
He walked over to where she was sitting and saw Y/N twirling around in the street while the rain soaked through her clothes. “What is she doing? She’s goning to catch a cold.”
Nina shot him a look, “Look at her. She’s enjoying herself.”
He didn’t say anything in reply but just watched Y/N silently.
The smile on her face, the way her dress stuck to her body like a second skin, she looked beautiful.
He smiled to himself before walking to the door, pushing it open and calling to her, “You’re going to get sick, come back inside!”
She spun around and looked at him with a wide smile, “Kaz, come join me!”
He shook his head as she started walking to him and grabbed his gloved hand pulling him into the rain.
He stood still as the cold rain soaked through his shirt.
Y/N let go of his hand and laughed, her head falling back before she looked at him again, “Come on, the rain is fun!”
He watched her twirl again, her skirt flaring out a little as she looked up at the stormy grey clouds.
He smiled when he reached out for her hand and spun her into his embrace, wrapping his other arm around her waist, swaying them slowly.
Y/N smiled up at him and rested her arm around his neck and leaned into his chest sighing contently. “Thank you.”
He placed a kiss on her head, “You’re welcome, darling.”
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Photos of h in DC (creds to original owners on insta)
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Peaky blinders Thomas Shelby 🤰
pairing: thomas shelby x reader
word count: 300+
fandom: peaky blinders
The meeting began normally. Tommy had arranged for the rest of his family members and a few of the other Peaky Blinders to meet at your shared mansion to discuss business. Although you were pregnant you decided to attend. Just like Tommy, you took the Shelby company incredibly seriously and you wanted to contribute if you could.
One moment your hand was resting comfortably on your plump belly. The next your water suddenly broke. Interrupting Tommy just as he was speaking about his plan to distribute products in American when you yelled to get his attention. “Tommy! The baby!”.
Just like that every head in the room goes spinning in your direction. The men look completely helpless, wide eyed and confused. Polly on the other hand sprints into action. Having delivered several babies before, she rushes toward and orders Ada over as well.
“It’s time. The baby’s coming” Polly confirms, just in case it didn’t hit the men the first time you announced the news. Tommy tries to walk over to give you aid as well but Polly shoos him off. “Everyone out of the room. Let the woman handle this”.
You don’t need to tell John, Arthur, or the others twice. Following Polly’s command, they exit the room to give the lady’s the space they need. Tommy however seems like he wants to stay and ensure his child arrives safely.
“There’s no good you can do for us here” Polly shakes her head, as Ada tells you to already begin pushing. “You’ll only get in the way. Now off with you, we’ll take good care of our dear [Y/N]”.
Tommy gives you a look, as if seeking proper permission from you. You’re already in a fair amount of pain and you really just want Polly to come over and get all this over without distractions. With this in mind you frantically wave Tommy away.
“Go. You heard your aunt. I’ll be fine” just as you finish saying that you let out a curse. That probably didn’t make you look anymore Congo ding but nonetheless, Tommy leaves. Finally Polly can get to work. “Now that those annoyances are out of the way, push!”.
masterlist | buy the author a coffee
tags: @your-pixels-are-showing / @myriadimagines / @imaginesbymk / @fangirlsarah16 / @lithiumarchangel / @jammesbarnnes / @woahitslucyylu / @gruffle1 / @gracie-pie / @kaetastic / @obsessedunicorn24 / @curlyhairedblueeyedangel / @thingsforimagination / @lucillethings / @thedarkqueenofavalon / @zeldafreak688 / @multifandomfix / @natasha-danvers / @champagneholland / @shelundeadxxxx / @ann-writes-things / @lozzypoz321 / @xspideyboyx / @beth-winchester21 / @simonsbluee / @ravenmoore14 / @rabeccablake / @inglourious-imagines / @bonniesgoldengirl / @ta-ka-shi-ma / @mollybegger-blog / @disneylaanddicaprio / @alwaysfangirlingish / @czarinera / @locke-writes / @smallheathgangsters / @crapimahuman / @tvwhoresblog / @mangoessassafras / @lilymurphy03 / @inu1gf
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I can only imagine Achilles screaming out Patroclus’ name in Elysium, surrounded by soldiers who stand and watch, his voice slowly growing more rasped, desperate and pained the more he yelled for his name without response- the same way he did that day as he relived his most painful moment even in the afterlife.
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Imagine Loki being completely impervious to cold weather and teasing you relentlessly as you suffer through a frigid winter.
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JAKE SIM AS YOUR BOYFRIEND
rainbow by dodie
they say he's a golden retriever, and they're absolutely right
he wants nothing more but to be affectionate and to laugh with you
you guys just look at each other for a second and burst out laughing
you give compliments to each other like it's breathing
his smile is a common one
but he always compliments your hugs. he thinks they're like tea on a rainy day. warm and oddly refreshing.
smiles the most when you're excited. gives you that oh so happy glance when something pops up and then fixates back on whatever's going on type of thing
feels so comfortable rambling about things that make him excited as well. he knows you'll listen. he trusts you a lot
holds your hand everywhere you go, but also is the boyfriend to put his hand in your back pocket
ruffles your hair and calls you cute numerous times a day
overall i'm in love with this man
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wanting was enough (for me, it was enough) ; atsumu miya.
pairing atsumu miya x f!reader
synopsis atsumu miya has a tendency to never say the right thing, and it’s a good thing you don’t care.
content contains slight friends to lovers, mutual pining
author’s note secretly connected to this drabble, so we all know how the story ends </3
Atsumu Miya’s never been that great of a speaker.
He’s too blunt with his words; tactless, too. He says the wrong thing at the wrong time, and his jokes fall flat more often than they get laughs, and the only reason why he has so many fangirls is because they’re too busy staring at his face and his body to really focus on how he can’t flirt for shit.
It’s never really been a problem; maybe his mouth’s gotten him into more fights than he would’ve gotten involved in had he not said something stupid, and maybe his publicist wouldn’t be stressed out if he knew how to properly convey his thoughts on Twitter without toeing the dangerous line of saying something either controversial or just downright rude, risking his reputation all over 140 characters.
It’s never been a problem then, but it’s a problem now.
Now being the moment where he first meets you.
You’re looking for Bokuto. He can answer honestly, simply. Tell you that Bokuto’s in the locker room, probably showing off whatever patterned boxers he’s gonna be sporting when he gets out of practice (and then, Atsumu would probably make some attempt to be funny — ask you if you prefer guys who wear briefs or boxers, and no matter what you answer, he’ll go damn, I need to go buy some then). He can tell you that he doesn’t know, and then run back to the locker room to warn Bokuto that a (very pretty) businesswoman is looking for him. Then he thinks to himself, are you a businesswoman?
You look the part. Despite the sweltering heat of Japan’s harshest summer, you’re sporting a blazer, and he heard you coming before he even saw you, the click-clack of your heels meeting the freshly waxed court sounding like an omen.
He doesn’t realize he’s staring at you like an idiot before you raise an eyebrow at him.
“Excuse me? Sir? Do you know where I can meet with a Mr. Koutarou Bokuto? I’m supposed to be meeting with him in the next fifteen minutes, although it’s understandable if he isn’t ready yet since I did arrive before our scheduled time.”
He wants to say that no one has ever spoken so formally when in reference of Bokuto and that you really don’t have to call him sir since he’s pretty sure he’s got no more than three years on you, max. He also wants to mention that Mr. Koutarou Bokuto is probably comparing dick sizes with his teammates right now, and most likely forgot about your appointment. He doesn’t say that, though. Instead, he looks at you, with your shiny MacBook clutched to your chest and those heels that really don’t do much to bridge the gap in height between you two, and he processes the speed at which you speak, as if you’re being timed on how fast you can talk, and all he can say is:
“Wow, you’re intense.”
And you blink at him, clearly caught off guard, your mouth only able to formulate one word:
After that, you seemed to recover just fine from his statement, continuing to pester him about the whereabouts of Bokuto. Atsumu thinks you’re a lawyer. He tells you that, and by that time, you seem to anticipate that he says stupid shit because all you do is grin. You don’t even stop to gather your thoughts before explaining to him that no, you’re not a lawyer. Even when you’re done telling him that you’re an accountant working for the JVA, even when you’re done explaining to him just what exactly it is that you do, even when you spot Bokuto and you’re excusing yourself, telling him it was very nice speaking with you, Miya — even after all that, Atsumu still only has one thing to say.
“Wow, you’re intense.” He says it with more conviction this time, like the first time was just a subtle observation but this time — this time he knows it, could list specific examples and even write a thesis about you and your intensity. And you tell him, once again,
But you say it with a smile on your face this time, like you know something he doesn’t. There’s a lot he doesn’t know about — yet.
But he knows a lot more about you when the two of you are seated in a booth together, pressed up against each other so closely that he can’t even exhale without having his shoulders brush against the fabric of your blazer. (Even when you’re clocked out, you still wear one, like it’s a part of you. He finds out that you wear one all the time in public out of fear that you’re going to run into a boss or some head and that you don’t ever want to make a bad impression. You told him this when he had ketchup stains on his wrinkled, sweaty jersey.) He keeps that cute okay of yours tucked safely in the back of his mind, convinced that it’s something Shakespearean.
You stand out. Not just because you’re wearing nothing but office clothes at a diner close to midnight, and not just because you’re the only girl present, surrounded by nothing but hulking figures clad in sweat-soaked jerseys. You stand out because in a booth full of professional athletes, where winning and being competitive are somewhat required traits for the job, you’re the one with the most intense aura. He notices (because he notices a lot about you, more than he wants to admit) how when you stare at someone, it’s like you’re studying them. How everyone’s scared to talk to you sometimes because they never know how you’re going to break apart and analyze their sentence. You don’t mean to throw back their words in their faces, but you don’t necessarily serve them back stacked up neatly and nicely on a silver platter.
The guys joke around, say that you’re like a robot. You give them a smile in return. He knows that smile (see, because he knows quite a bit about you now). He knows that that’s your fake one, the one you put up for clients. Technically, you didn’t even want to be here, but Atsumu invited — more like begged — you to show up, and for some odd reason, you agreed.
“I can’t believe you’re even friends with this guy,” Meian says to you, nodding to Atsumu. “Is he blackmailing you or somethin’?”
You give a genuine smile this time when you shake your head. “No. It’s something even worse.” When you beckon all his teammates to come closer, you have your elbows on the sticky diner table, leaning forward, whispering conspiratorially.
“I actually like him.”
The guys break out into laughter, and you lean back in your seat, seemingly happy that your joke (he doesn’t want it to be a joke — please don’t be a joke) had such a positive reaction.
He knows that it’s just in your nature, really, to constantly weigh the pros and cons of everything you do. You’re methodical with even the most mundane of tasks, down to making whole entire research papers on the best possible shampoo and conditioner combination for your hair. If you’re that insane when it comes to what you put on your head, you should be even more cautious about what comes out of your mouth. Even your jokes are carefully planned out in your head, with you factoring in the personalities of the people you’re with and figuring out the right time to say it. So, he wonders, what was the thought process you had whenever you told everyone you liked him?
He carries your confession home in the to-go box from the diner. It’s heavy, matching the American theme of burgers containing his weight in meat and fries slick with oil and grease. The two of you are walking together, and he wants to ask you, specifically, what did you mean when you told the team you liked me?
But it’s hardly the time for him to hand you over his own confession. It’s been a long time coming, he knows that much. He knows that you must know that there’s something behind his prolonged eye contact during casual conversations; how he coincidentally just so happens to be the preferred middleman when it comes to you needing to relay information to any members of his team. When he stares at you and you catch him (which happens often because he stares quite a bit), he wonders if you see the deep-rooted longing behind his eyes, a direct window to his subconscious where he buries all his feelings towards you (and at the top of that pile is your okay).
You’re perceptive, and so, when the two of you are truly alone, you pause.
“Atsumu? Is there something you want to talk about?”
You don’t beat around the bush, just like him. It’s funny how when you do it, you’re being efficient, but when he does it, he’s considered an asshole. He thinks it’s because you’re pretty, and therefore, you can get away with everything. He’s pretty sure that if he put on a blazer, he’d get more praise for his efficiency, too.
(In all actuality, people think you’re a bitch, too. He just has a habit of thinking everyone else is singing praises to you, like he does.)
He can’t confess now. Not when the only source of light is a dirty streetlamp and not the glow of the full moon. Not when he’s just got done being the butt of the joke for his teammates the whole entire night. Not when this is quite possibly the most unromantic location known to man because he’s pretty sure there’s a homeless guy staring at the two of you (or, more specifically, Atsumu’s to-go box).
You’re looking at him expectantly, and he swallows hard. He doesn’t say the right thing a lot, you know? Every time he opens up his mouth at a sports conference or during an interview, he knows either his teammates or his family or his fans and enemies alike are going to absolutely rip him to shreds. Verbally inept, he thinks that’s what it’s called, that that’s what he is.
He wants to say: he likes you, with or without the blazer. He thinks your jokes are funny, even when all your calculations and observations fail you and it ends up being misunderstood — that he thinks they’re especially funny when that happens. You’re pretty even after clocking out from a fourteen hour workday. You make him want to make metaphors about you, and write poems, and other dorky, romantic shit that he certainly can’t do — but he wants to, and shouldn’t that count for something at least?
“You’re right, it should count for something, at least.” You’re nodding, with a smile on your face that isn’t just for clients, that isn’t just for whenever his teammates get a laugh out of you — it’s a smile that you reserve especially for him. (He knows this because he’s seen you smile at other people before, and you don’t ever show your teeth around them.)
Oh. So. Looks like he said it out loud. He wonders if you can see the blush that’s creeping up from his neck to behind his ears to the apples of his cheeks. He probably looks very, very stupid right now. Even more stupid than when he fucking gawked at you and said you were a lawyer; definitely more stupid than whenever he had ketchup on his jersey.
But you’re still smiling at him, and he thinks that maybe, you might like very, very stupid.
“So?” You cock an eyebrow. Every conversation is like a chess game with you. Sometimes, he can’t tell if you’re on the offense or defense, which makes it incredibly hard to know how best to talk to you.
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re very intense.”
“What else d’you think?” You’re not running away, which is a good sign (to him). He’s starting to think that you are surprisingly softer than you let on, if the way you can’t stop smiling is any indication. It’s enough to give him a burst of confidence.
“[Name].” He’s going to do it. He’s going to finally confess, and—
“I like you. As more than a friend.” You beat him to the punch, and he knows that you’ve been planning this out all along. He knows that you added in the clarifying phrase of more than a friend because he would have automatically jumped to the conclusion that there’s no possible way you could possibly feel the same way he does for you, and he can’t even be annoyed at you for stealing his spotlight, for confessing first, because he likes the way it sounds. The way you say his name, the way you confess to him in a slower speed than your normal talking one, as if you want to savor the sentence.
“Okay.” He says it with a smile on his face, the fattest fucking grin plastered on his features ‘til he feels like he’s a caricature of happiness. That okay of yours that he’s been holding onto is finally being handed back to its rightful owner, and for once in his life, Atsumu Miya thinks that maybe he is capable of saying the right thing sometimes.
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A/N: Shaun, pre Shang-Chi discovery.
Pairing: Shang-Chi x Reader
Warnings: Swears, mischief, body-slamming
Summary: You decided to scare the shit out your boyfriend. It backfires. Badly. Fluffy drabble-y thing, I think?
This was it. You were going to fucking get him.
Look, you loved your boyfriend very much, but sometimes, Shaun was a total annoying piece of shit. He was absolutely adorable. He held doors open for you, surprised you with your favorite beverage, smothered you in kisses when work or school made you want to flip a table like the Hulk. But, sometimes, he was just such a piece of shit.
He was so mischevious! The man was a jokester. Whether it was making you look somewhere so he could tickle you, moving your coffee mug just a little too far to the left to totally mess with you and throw you off, or screaming in the middle of a scary movie to scary you. He was a piece of shit, an adorable piece of shit, and you needed to get your revenge.
The last few times you tried to get him had failed. It seemed like he always knew when to expect you. Part of you wondered how he just seemed to be so damn alert all of the time. Did this man have a sixth sense?
Regardless, now was your time to shine. You purposely told him you couldn’t hang out with him and Katy because you were going out with your other friends, which you did! However, you left early so you could go home and scare him when he least expected it because you made sure to say you’d be getting home later. You hid in the bathroom, the door cracked open the exact way he had left it when he left the apartment evening.
It was a waiting game, but when Shaun finally returned, you nearly lost your cool and giggled in excitement. As he approached the bed and started taking off his clothes, you quickly threw open the door, jumped out, and threw your arms out to grab his shoulders as you screamed at him behind his back.
What you didn’t expect was for him to grab your arm and flip you over him with so much force that you slammed into the ground like Hulk smashing Loki. Was this what death felt like? Were your ribs now shattered? Did your spleen explode?
To top it off, it didn’t stop there. After he had flipped you, he twisted your arm and had raised his fist to punch you in the face. “Who -- oh, shit!”
“Ow!” You whined.
“Oh my god. (Y/N) I am so sorry! Why did you do that?”
“Me do that? I just wanted to scare you!” You shouted, “And now I’m DEAD! I’m dead, Shaun. You’ve killed me.”
“I am so, so, so sorry,” He apologized profusely as he picked you up and quickly put you in bed. “Are you hurt? I mean --”
“Am I hurt?!” You squealed, “What do you think? Ow, dude! When did you learn to do that? My god, are you some freaking assassin, or ninja, or power ranger, or something?!”
He laughed nervously as he shook his head profusely, “No, no. I swear, just a few things I learned as a kid to defend myself, you know?”
“I know you got bullied for your English but good lord, man. I never realized it was that bad that you had to destroy their spinal cords and try to make their insides explode.”
He cringed and returned from the kitchen with an ice pack and held it to your back, “Again, sweetheart, I am so, so sorry.”He muttered as he peppered your face in little kisses everywhere. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I know,” You muttered in defeat, holding the ice pack to your body. “Since you tried to kill me, does this mean I successfully scared you?”
He stared at you like you were the crazy person before he chuckled and shook his head, “Yeah, babe. You got me. You won this one.”
Rather smugly, you smirked, “Of course I did. But, ow, gosh. I’m in so much pain. You really should take care of me. I think some snuggles are in order.”
Grinning, he kicked off the rest of his clothes and climbed into bed next to you, pulling you as close as he humanly could against his chest.
“But, uh, just don’t do that again, okay?” He said after a quiet moment. “I really, really don’t want to ever hurt you again.”
“Oh, fuck no. Lesson learned, now I know those muscles aren’t just for show.”
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CRACKS FROM THE PAST | KAZ BREKKER
Summary: You find out that Kaz is having nightmares, try to comfort him and that leads to him telling you something he has tried to hide for years.
Fandom: Shadow and Bone/Six of Crows
Characters: Y/N (no pronouns), Kaz Brekker, Jordie Rietveld (mentioned)
A/N: This wasn't requested originally but a nonny requested a oneshot like this too, unaware that I had just written this 😄 So here you go!
Warnings: nightmares, descriptions of death and grieving, angst (hurt/comfort), also this isn't my best work because for some reason I haven't been able to stay focused for very long lately.
Word count: 1.3k
Thunder rattled outside, as you tossed and turned in your bed. Ketterdam was always rainy, and thunders liked to go in circles and ruin your sleep when they occurred.
Kaz was never a good sleeper, always working, but tonight he had fallen to sleep relatively quickly for once. You looked over to his bed and could just hope that thunder wouldn’t wake him up. He was facing the wall, and you could only make out his silhouette in the dark room.
A lighting struck, illuminating the whole room and you heard Kaz yelp. You sighed, thinking he had awaken and rose up slightly, holding yourself up with your elbows.
“Jordie…” Kaz muttered, followed by a few whimpers. “I’m so sorry…”
You frowned, but then caught up. It was one of those nightmares again. You had been together with him for almost a year and you had moved into his room at the Slat only a two months ago, but you had already witnessed a dozen nightmares. He always called out to Jordie. You had tried to get him talk about his nightmares, asking him to tell you what were they about, but he always refused, circling around the topic, and you had figured that he’d tell you when he’s ready. You hadn't told him what you had gathered from his dreams, fearing that you would push him too much if you did. It was something horrible, something he had tried to hide. He was protecting himself, that much was clear. From the snippets you had gathered from his past, you knew it contained something dark, something he had wanted to bury. And you most definitely didn't want to push him.
Another lighting struck, this time with a loud rumble. Kaz turned to his back abruptly and let out more whimpers.
“Jordie, Jordie… don’t leave me…”
Kaz had told you that he wants to get over his nightmares on his own, but this nightmare seemed to be worse than most. You had to help him.
“Kaz?” you called to him softly. He didn’t wake up, but he was still shaking. “Kaz!”
He took in a shaky breath and you made your way to his bed, lighting an oil lamp on his night stand. He was sweaty and tears rolled down on his face. You had never seen him like that, and it scared you. You sat down at the edge of his bed and called out to him again.
“Kaz! Wake up!” you raised you voice a bit. “Kaz, you’re at the Slat, it’s Y/N.”
Still no reaction. You swallowed, knowing fully well how much your boyfriend hated touch but you didn’t know how else were you going to wake him. So you laid your hand on his pajama sleeve and gave him a gentle shake.
Kaz took in a few quick breaths before his eyes shot open and he launched up on the bed, now breathing erratically and you retreated your hand immediately.
“I’m sorry.” you muttered after he laid his gaze on you and could start to even out his breathing. “You were seeing a nightmare again and I couldn’t get you wake up with my voice and I didn’t want to scream at you either because then the whole Slat would have come to see what’s the matter.”
Kaz stared at you for a few seconds and then nodded, pressing his lips into a tight line. You looked at his red and puffy eyes, frowning in concern and he averted his gaze away the moment he realized why you were looking at him like that.
“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but…”
“That’s right.” Kaz interrupted you, tossing his blanket aside and taking his cane. “I have work to do. You should sleep.”
“Kaz, we’ve talked about this. We’ve agreed that you’ll even try to open up to me, honesty is one of the-”
“Can we do this later? I have work and you should sleep.”
You sighed and nodded. “Okay. But Kaz, it’s only three at the morning, you need rest too.”
“I’ve rest enough.” he laid his gaze on you as he took his gloves from his nightstand and pulled them on, before turning to you, his cold eyes getting just a slight amount of warmth as he looked at you. “But you, my dear, do need rest.”
“You know I’d stay up with force if you needed me. And right now I see you need me and I don’t want to leave you sitting here alone.” you stubbornly stated and followed him as Kaz started to make his way to his desk with a groan. “Look, I have no idea what’s so horrible that you’re constantly seeing nightmares about it or that who’s Jordie but I know that-”
Kaz stilled, stopping so abruptly that you almost collided with him. And then you realized it, you had spoken Jordie's name.
“Where did you hear that name?” he muttered, looking at the floor. You swallowed.
“You keep saying it when you have those nightmares. You keep saying sorry to someone called Jordie and beg them not to leave you.” you explained quietly and Kaz let out a long sigh. You closed your eyes for a moment, before you opened them again to look at your boyfriend, silently begging him to speak to you. “I have already figured that they’re someone from your past, from before the “harbor gave birth to you”-thing. Maybe they’re the reason why you try to hide your past so hard. They left you and you swore that you wouldn’t-”
“He died.” Kaz interrupted you, tilting his head slightly towards you and you frowned. “Jordie. He died.”
You frowned, taking another step towards Kaz. “Was he your friend?”
“Brother. I looked up to him. Trusted him too much. He was an idiot but little Kaz didn’t believe it, being so stupidly naive.” he scoffed, looking to your direction a little more but still not meeting your eyes. “He looked after me, tried to make sure I’m safe. But the Queen’s Plague made everything come tumbling down and suddenly, I was alone.”
You remembered hearing about the Queen’s Plague before. You had come to Ketterdam a few years after it had swept over the city, but the destruction it had made was still visible. You had heard it had taken so many lives, and dozens of kids were left orphan because of it.
“How old were you?” you quietly asked.
“Nine.” Kaz answered and lifted his gaze to stare at the raging storm outside from the window. You almost saw his thoughts. Kaz Brekker didn’t cry when he was lucid, but you could tell that this moment was the closest he could get. You thought about it for a moment, but then you slowly hooked your pinky with his, offering him a soft smile as he turned to look at you. After a moment, he offered you something resembling a smile himself before he briefly squeezed your pinky back and let go.
“I guess I could sleep a while longer. I’ll never know if I need it today.” he said after a moment of silence, sitting down on the bed and taking his gloves off again. You sat on your own bed and smiled at him as he tucked in again and turned off the lamp.
You heard him shuffling under the covers and took in a deep sigh and let a small smile occupy your face.
“I’m glad you told me, Kaz.” you muttered into the dark. He didn’t answer anything, but you knew he was glad about it too.
Kaz never said it to your face, but you had saved him so many times. You had taught him to love again, a feeling he was sure he wouldn't be able to feel again. If he got lost along the way, you would get him.
You were his light, guiding him through the stormy seas, who would always bring him home. You would always be there to pull him up if he was going to fall back to the dark waters, and even when he always wondered how did you love someone like him, he couldn't be happier to have you. And you weren't only bringing him home - you were his home.
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IMAGINE spending the night in with Sebastian
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Could we get a continuation of Daisy and Harry’s potty training experience? Like when she finically gets it and stuff. Harry would honestly be so proud of her
harry had been potty training daisy for weeks now. she just wouldn't get it. every time he'd find her diaper wet and would have to go through the whole talk about how he should tell him instead again.
he was currently in his office, and daisy was in her play room which was just across the hall. harry looked at the time, it was 1:34pm which meant it was almost time to make daisy lunch.
harry looked to the doorway and smiled when he saw daisy peering into his office room.
“yes baby? i'll cook in a second okay?” he replied, assuming that was what she wanted.
“no, i really need to pee,” she whispered.
harry's eyes widened, this was the first time she had asked since they had started potty training.
“of course! of course baby lets go,” he quickly got up from his chair and walked with her to the bathroom.
he took her diaper off and helped her get on the potty.
he was so proud of her, so happy she had asked even if it was just this one time. he really couldn't contain his excitement.
after she was done he helped her wash her hands.
“i'm so proud of you baby, you did so well asking.” he grinned and kissed her cheek.
“do i always have to ask now?” she looked confused.
“yes. it's time you start using the big girl potty instead of the diapers. diapers are for little girls now and you're a very big girl,”
something lit up in daisy's eyes, and harry knew she was always going to ask now that she knew big girls used the potty.
for the rest of the day, daisy had asked harry to use the potty every single time she needed it.
to say harry was proud was an understatement. he was beyond proud, if that was possible. he couldn't stop giving her proud kisses and telling her how proud he was.
he couldn't contain himself, and once she was asleep he'd called anne and told her all about his brave big girl had finally learnt to use the potty.
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