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harryslittlefreakk · 4 months

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the pact

summary: you and harry made a childhood pact to marry if you were both still single when he reached 30. now that his big birthday is approaching, you find out whether your friendship (and your pact) have stood the test of time

warnings: mostly fluff, some smut :)

wordcount: 6k

a/n: i actually really like this one. it’s not proofread yet as i was so eager to get it up lol. hope you enjoy!

my masterlist can be found here! happy reading 🫶🏼

From the second you’d received the invitation, you were buzzing with a giddy nervousness. It had been years since you’d seen Harry, though Anne and Gemma were always so quick to share what he was up to. You’d followed his career silently for 13 years, still bumping into him every few years when Anne hosted Boxing Day, or he happened to be in town for your family’s annual summer barbecues. In your mind, he was still the cheeky, dimpled little lad you’d hide under the dining room table with, imagining you were explorers of far away lands.

But Harry wasn’t the young boy you’d chased after in your childhood anymore, the teenager you looked out for when you stuck your head over the garden fence to call your sister home. He wasn’t the handsome young man you’d spent countless hours swooning over with your friends in the bakery after school. Harry was a global sensation, the world’s sweetheart. You weren’t sure he’d even recognise you, a forgotten reminder of much simpler days.

Growing up next door to Harry hadn’t come without its challenges. You’d lost your childhood best friend seemingly overnight once One Direction formed, his life suddenly busy with meetings, tours and interviews. Anne still welcomed you with open arms, but her house felt a little too cold for you with his presence haunting the walls, memories etched into every surface of the house. You’d still hang out in his bedroom sometimes, his band posters and drawings left collecting dust in a lifeless room. When girls from school learned of your connection to him, they’d befriend you and treat you like the hottest new thing until you refused to give over any information. He was your Harry, your long-gone games and silly memories something you held close to your heart. It soon seemed easier to let him go altogether, move on to a new chapter, stop waiting for your best friend to appear again.

Still, you were glad to be able to support Gemma on one of her biggest days. She’d become such a regular feature in your household, she felt like family herself. Your parents had been more overjoyed at the news of her impending nuptials than any of yours or your sister’s recent achievements. They loved Gemma like their own, their ‘extra daughter’, as your dad called her. You knew this was as big a moment for them as it was for Anne, having watched Gemma grow from the tiny dark-haired girl your sister had raved about on her first day of school, to a woman about to become a wife.

Standing outside of the venue now, a beautiful old church overlooking the peaceful tides below, yours and Harry’s childhood pact suddenly hit you. You were laying on a blanket in your garden, tops of your heads pressed together as you made out shapes in the clouds above. “I will never get married,” you told Harry. Your parents had had their wedding album out that day, sharing stories with Anne and Robin. You squirmed and grimaced every time they spoke about it, never understanding how any girl would willingly share their life with a boy. “Yuck,” he squeaked from next to you. “Me either. I don’t ever want to live with a stinky girl!” You giggled together, the cool evening breeze washing over you. “Maybe, maybe I might one day though. When I’m really old and lonely.”

“Old like my parents?” you asked him. “Even olderer than that. Like 30.” You gasped, quickly trying to count on your fingers. “That’s really really old. Maybe we can be married when we’re 30.” Harry ran inside when you said this, leaving you chasing after him once again. He grabbed a napkin from the kitchen counter and scribbled on it in felt tip,

‘I ____ will marry Harry when we’re really super old’

“You have to put your name on that line or it’s not real,” Harry told you, handing the blue felt tip to you. You both signed your initials underneath, and proudly went to show your parents. They’d fallen about in laughter when you told them, promising to hold you to your pact. You hadn’t seen the napkin since that day, and you were sure it was long forgotten by everybody, especially Harry. You felt a small twinge in your chest at this, suddenly wishing you were anywhere but here.

“Hey Boo, you okay? Anne wants to get some pictures of us all together before the ceremony,” your dad told you, leading you through the crowd of guests. Boo was the only nickname that had ever stuck for you, starting when you and Harry decided to go as Boo and Sully from Monsters Inc. one Halloween. You’d originally wanted to be Mike, but with your big brown eyes shielded by little bangs and your signature pigtails, everyone persuaded you to be Boo. You’d outgrown almost everything else from childhood, but Boo was stuck with you for life.

“Oh Y/N, you look lovely darling,” Anne cooed as you came into her sight. She pulled you in for a hug, kissing your cheek as she pulled away. You had to admit, you did scrub up well. It was a long time since you’d really made the effort to look properly nice, still caught in the comfort of your pandemic wardrobe of leggings and sweatshirts. The olive-green maxi dress you’d settled on hugged your body in all the right places, a thick band of material draping over your chest and the tops of your arms, showcasing your toned shoulders. You’d always weirdly liked your shoulders and neck, an odd area to be proud of but it was by far your favourite part of your body. Your hair was scraped back in a sleek bun, tiny wisps framing your fresh face. “Gem and Sophia are still inside, they’ll be out in a minute. Gem’s so excited to see you, it’s been so long since we’ve all been together,” Anne gushed, running a hand up the outside of your arm.

She had such a delicate, warm presence, it was no wonder she’d raised two children as incredible as Harry and Gemma. Anne had been an extension of your own mum as you grew up, small traces of her as much as part of you as they were her own kids. She’d talked you through boys and heartbreaks, been there to wave you off to your school prom, one of the proudest faces in the crowd when you graduated university. She’d been stationed on the garden patio alongside your mum at every birthday party, the two women nattering away as they guarded the wine.

Gemma stepped out of the door, pulling you out of your daydream down memory lane. Your jaw went slack when you saw her, she was positively radiant. Her dress was a dainty satin, huge bishop sleeves adorning her arms and a beautiful full skirt, flowing around her petite frame in the gentle seaside breeze. Your mum rushed over to her first, smoothing a loving hand down the front of her skirt. “You look beautiful Gem,” she told her, tears glistening on her bottom eyelashes. Hugs and pleasantries were exchanged throughout the group, shoulders bumping gaily as you moved around. One thing was still missing though - Harry. You knew he’d never miss his sisters wedding, though he was absolutely nowhere to be seen. Just as you were about to ask, you saw him. With a deep brown suit jacket draped across his body, matching slacks hanging loose on his muscular thighs. A white vest hung low on his chest, his inked swallows sitting pretty on tanned skin.

You knew how good he looked these days, of course. Your tiktok had been full of videos of him performing, Anne’s house littered with framed photos. But seeing him in real life lit a fire in your belly. He’d always been pretty, green eyes and curls enough to charm any woman, but now he was hot. A great, big hunk of sexy man. He approached your parents first, laughing as your dad chose to forgo Harry’s outstretched hand, pulling him into a hug instead. “Here’s our not-so-little superstar,” he smiled, ruffling Harry’s messy curls. Harry pressed a kiss into your mums cheek, exchanging a quick but heartfelt hello. His eyes caught on yours as he glanced across the courtyard, your brown eyes still crinkled as you smiled, in exactly the same way they had when you were younger. “Little Boo!” he chuckled, striding towards you. His strong arms wrapped you into a firm cuddle, his musky scent spilling into your pores. “You look incredible,” he whispered into your ear, voice raspy and low. It wasn’t long before Anne was ushering you all into place to take some pictures, cutting yours and Harry’s catch up short. “Come and find me later,” he told you as you beamed for the camera.

—

With the ceremony long-finished, the party had spilled out of the church hall and onto the grounds outside. You’d danced, mingled and laughed for as long as you could before needing a minute of quiet. Brushing your hand across your mum’s back, you told her you were going for a little walk and would be back soon. You slipped out of the open doors, yanking your heels off in search of some quick relief. You spotted a little wooden bench overlooking the sea, a little way away from the other guests. A great oak tree shielded it from the warm evening sun, providing you just the right amount of peace.

“Thought you were gonna find me,” a voice suddenly came from behind you. You turned around to see Harry approaching your private spot, a sparkling glass in each hand. “Hey,” you smiled. “Just needed a little bit of quiet. Come sit,” you patted the bench beside you. Harry handed you one of the glasses as he sat down, murmuring, “saw you heading over here. Thought I’d bring you a little tipple.” You cheersed, the clinking of glasses cutting through a heavy silence. “How have you been?” he asked you, shifting his body slightly to face you.

“Been good, H. Thank you for asking. Work’s going well, was a bit slow with the pandemic and all but life’s been kind to me recently. I don’t really need to ask you, do I?” you laughed, suddenly shy in his presence. “No, I guess not,” he answered, smiling kindly at you. You settled back into an uncomfortable silence, not really sure how to talk to one another anymore.

“Mum told me you moved to London,” Harry said, seemingly desperate to pierce the awkwardness hanging over you both. “Yeah, I did,” you told him, explaining how Holmes Chapel had started to feel just a little too small, a little too cut off from the rest of the world. “I can understand that,” he told you, chuckling. You ran through the usual questions, telling him about your work as an illustrator, your little flat off of Finchley high road, the couple of girls from school you’d kept in touch with. “I can’t believe you live so close to me,” he gasped. “Mum could never remember what area you lived in, if I’d known you were only down the road we could have reconnected long before now,” Harry told you. You let out an involuntary scoff at this, telling him, “you know where to find me, H. You know your mum has my number, you know where I’ll be every Christmas and birthday. If you really wanted to reconnect it would have happened long before now.” Your words tumbled out, years of one-sided hurt and rejection suddenly pushing to the surface. Harry took a big sip of his drink, placing his hand over yours. “I’ve been shit, I know. Got caught up in everything and barely looked back. Wanted to reach out a long time before now but I couldn’t bring myself,” he told you. “Felt so bad for how I just disappeared and didn’t want to face it.”

You looked at him with sad eyes, searching his face for any sign of insincerity. “I get it, H. I’m really happy for you, I am. You had all your dreams come true, it’s amazing,” you set your glass down beside you and held your other hand over his. “Just feel sad that I lost my best friend overnight.” Your eyes welled up as you spoke, a combination of the free-flowing prosecco, the beautiful ceremony, and facing your hurt with the man who caused it. “Never had a friend who got me like you did,” you chuckled bitterly. Harry pulled his hands from yours and snaked an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to his side. “I’m sorry, little Boo, I swear.”

The pair of you stayed that way for a while, soaking in each other’s words and the idyllic setting. Just being close to each other for the first time in almost a decade, having said what you both needed to, was bliss. “I thought about you a lot, y’know,” Harry told you suddenly, the words bursting out as if he’d been biting them back for a while. “Yeah?” you asked him, sitting up straighter to look at him again. He nodded, cheeks twinged slightly pink. You weren’t sure if it was the booze or his confession. “All my big moments, always wished you were there.”

“You know I would’ve been if I knew you wanted me to, Harry.”

“I know,” he mumbled, watching his own trainer-clad feet kicking little rocks around. “My mum and dad went to a few of your shows with Anne, watched the Brits and the Grammys every year you were nominated.” You swallowed thickly, before continuing, “I’m really proud of you, we all are.”

Harry turned his head slightly to the sound of music blaring from inside, before asking you, “dance with me?” He extended a hand to help you up, placing his glass down before wrapping an arm around your waist. You stepped together slowly, bodies moving in unison with your head rested softly against his chest. The skies had gotten gradually darker as you’d spoken, closing in around you until only a faint glow seeped out from the open church doors. Harry pushed you out, spinning you around before tugging you back into him. You smacked against his chest with a little ‘umph’, the wind knocked out of you. Your eyes met his, a little dazed, and all you could do was stare.

It felt like a betrayal of your childhood self to find him so attractive now. He was your best friend, your first friend, the only one to ever understand you fully. He’d guided you through your awkward pre-teen stage, the extra years he had on you put to good use when he showed you cool bands and songs to make boys like you. But now, you wanted him to be the boy that liked you. You were so flustered under his gaze, heat tearing through your body. “Let’s head back in,” you told Harry, words shaky. He kept an arm tight around your shoulder, shaking you about as you approached the church. ‘I’ve got my little Boo back’ he laughed in a sing-song tune. You could feel the happiness radiating off his body, knowing without even looking that his toothy grin would be firmly nestled between two deep dimples.

Your parents were sat around a table with Anne, Michal and Gemma still doing the rounds. You could tell they were drunk from a mile away - your dads cheeks stained red with merriment and Anne’s hands gesturing wildly as your mum roared with laughter. You’d missed this. You still went home as often as you could, never missing an opportunity to enjoy time with your loved ones, but before seeing Harry today it always felt different. Gemma, your sister, and Harry had all moved on, never fully present. But being the youngest, you were the one left behind. Harry pulled around two chairs for you both, plopping down between you and his mum. She draped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. “My special boy, where have you been?” she slurred.

“Been catching up,” Harry told her, a blush creeping up his cheeks as she looked between the two of you before winking at him. She was far from subtle before getting wine drunk, so now her entire head moved with her wink. She highlighted it with a loud “wink, wink” in Harry’s direction. “Anne!” you spluttered, choking out a laugh. Your dad reached over to snatch the two empty glasses from in front of you and Harry, promising to fill them to the brim so you could ‘get on their bloody level’.

The evening continued like that, the 5 of you drinking and laughing, reminiscing on your younger days. Your parents and Anne managing to bring up enough embarrassing stories about you both to put you off ever speaking to them again. “I think it’s time we all go to bed,” Harry started, holding his hands up. “Because we’re all fucking PISSED!”, he continued, yelling at the table. You banged on the table in hysterics, eyes screwed up tight as you and Anne fell into each other in laughter. Most of the venue had cleared out by now, guests dropping by your table to congratulate Anne on their way out. You’d barely seen Gemma all night, so content in her little love bubble that she’d spent the majority of the evening alone with Michal, feeding each other cake and slow-dancing.

“Come on, you big lump,” you tugged at your dad’s wrists who in turn pulled at your mum to stand up. Your dad swung his arms around you both, Harry and Anne joining onto the end, and you stumbled towards the exit in a fit of laughter. Harry tried to start a can-can line, kicking one big foot up into the air, but the 5 of you put together had far less coordination than even one sober person, so the idea was quickly abandoned.

The church had a converted barn outside, with rooms purpose-built for immediate family and friends to stay in. You hugged and kissed your goodnights to your parents and Anne, making sure they all got into bed without mischief. Now it was only you and Harry left, buzzed but significantly less drunk than your elders. “Care for one last round?” Harry asked you, slipping a little hip flask out from his blazer pocket. You knew this was a bad idea, a drunken evening alone with the man you’d been lusting after all day. But you certainly wouldn’t make the first move, and you were almost sure he didn’t think of you as anything other than the little girl who used to run around with him.

You followed him into his room, laughing to drown out the alarm bells ringing in your head. Once you saw the empty bed in front of you, you couldn’t help but just flop down on it, suddenly needing to be as comfortable as you could. The room was aged and rustic, but the bed was far more comfortable than it looked. Harry sat against the pillows beside you, long legs stretched out before him as he took a swig from the flask.

For the first time that day, the silence around you was peaceful. Just two old friends enjoying each others presence. Harry watched you as you took the flask from him, grimacing as the liquor went down with a burn. His green eyes were studying every little line on your face, every freckle dotted across your bare shoulders. There was so much new about you, so many little details and marks you’d gained as you grew older, all the little telltale signs of the years he’d missed. What he’d said to you earlier was true, he’d missed you with his whole heart from the second he’d left you behind, spent so many lonely nights wishing he had you by his side. He thought he’d outgrown you, his new-found fame taking precedence over the little girl he’d shared his dreams and aspirations with. But sitting here now with you, he knew you’d grown with him, no matter how far removed your life had become from his. “‘M nearly 30, you know,” he drawled, voice hoarse from the singing and the sting of alcohol in his throat.

“Huh?” you turned to him confused. “I’m 30 next year,” he told you. “Yeah I know, H. What does that have to do with anything?” you laughed, poking at the side of his head. “Means we have to get married next year,” he grinned. You gasped, remembering the pact you’d thought about earlier in the day, “you didn’t forget!” you laughed, sitting up against the soft pillows.

“Can’t do it next year though, two weddings in a year would send our parents insane,” you told him. “‘M finished with my tour now. Got nothing on next year,” Harry shrugged, a familiar cheeky smirk sitting pretty between his dimpled cheeks. You felt something shift in the air as he spoke, and he seemed to feel it too, edging closer to you until his face was only centimetres away from yours. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?” he cooed, one hand coming up to cup your cheek. His touch shot electricity through your core, a tingling sensation starting where his fingers touched you before washing over your whole body. You shook your head lightly, eyes fixed on him. He leaned in at this, his parted lips meeting yours. The beginnings of a moustache tickled your upper lip, his hot breath flowing into your mouth with every lick of his tongue. You shifted your body towards him as the kiss deepened, four legs and the now-crumpled duvet tangling together as you rushed to close the distance between your bodies. Harry licked into your mouth with the passion of a million years of unspoken longing, his movements saying more than he ever could with words. It was the kind of kiss you’d expect from someone who’d loved you for a lifetime, who wanted to love you for a lifetime, your tongues working alongside each other like this was routine, like you’d done it a thousand times before.

“Harry,” you whispered, hands pushing his blazer from his shoulders. He let you pull it off him, then stroked a hand up your thigh as you admired his upper body. One arm was littered in patchwork tattoos, though all you could focus on was his muscles, illuminated beautifully in the evening light. “Let me get you out of this,” he rasped, twisting your shoulders around to access the zip running down the back of your dress. He smoothed his fingers down your waist and to your hips before unzipping you, your body dwarfed by his strong hands. Harry pressed a kiss into the top of your back, then kissed up and down your spine, hungry for a taste of you as he unveiled more of your skin. You stood up to help him pull your dress down, resting one hand on his shoulder to steady yourself as you stepped out of it, leaving it discarded on the floor. “Matches my eyes,” he smiled. His gaze trailed from your toes, up to your knees, to where your panties wrapped around your hips, and higher still. Up your tanned abdomen to your bare breasts where your rosebud nipples sat perky, to your neck, and finally his gaze rested on your eyes. “Y’so beautiful,” he groaned, running a soft touch along the curve of your neck.

Harry pulled his tank top over his head, stepping out of his slacks as they collapsed at his feet. His body was unbelievable. So tanned and toned, firm in all the right places yet soft in the best ones. You could see the outline of his hard shaft through the thin fabric of his boxers, an almost silent moan slipping out as you took in the sight before you.

He stepped closer to you, backing you up until the side of the bed hit the back of your knees, then held a hand to your back to guide you down onto it. His hot, drunken breath washed over you as he climbed on top of you, one hand balancing his body as the other explored you. His fingers groped your breast firmly, mouth finding the opposite nipple, sucking it into his lips in one quick movement. Your back arched off the bed, pleasure so built up that it only took one touch to send you into a frenzy. Harry licked a circle around your areola, chuckling against your skin as you writhed under his touch. “Barely even started yet, little Boo,” he drawled, moving upwards to kiss along your clenched jaw.

His fingers danced down your body, smoothing over your mound as you gasped and groaned. They slipped under the soft material of your panties, blissfully cold against the heat of your entrance. You were already soaked through, much to his surprise, so he swiped a finger through your folds to collect your juices before landing straight on your clit. Harry rubbed you in circles, the friction leaving you a panting mess under him, head jutting out to press open-mouthed kisses on his throat.

He pulled your panties down your thighs tenderly, kissing every inch of skin they passed over. In the dim light of the room, mouth moving up and down your body, he’d never looked so handsome. His cock brushed against you as he moved back up your body to focus again on your folds, your juices spread across your mound in a mess. Two long fingers dived straight in, his rings leaving a harsh chill against your sensitive skin. The stretch of his fingers alone had you panting, a familiar burning starting in your core. Harry found your sweet spot insanely fast, fingers moving in a perfect beckoning motion just as you liked. He navigated your body like you’d done this before, like the muscle memory just guided him to what he knew made you feel good. “I want more, want you inside of me,” you whined, hips bucking towards Harry’s groin as he silenced you with a deep kiss. “Got to get you ready for me first, Boo”, he told you. You winced as he used your nickname, knowing you’d never be able to hear your dad call you that without thinking of this night.

Harry’s mouth found your breast again, sucking deep purple bruises onto the gentle skin as you whimpered beneath him. He smacked at your pussy as your moans got louder, causing your eyes to shoot up to meet his. “Gotta keep the noise down, sweet girl.” You nodded in response, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip to keep yourself as quiet as you could be. The second his tongue found your nipple, you felt your orgasm bubbling up in your core. Harry noticed the way your head lulled back, slipping a third finger inside of you and using his thumb to brush against your clit. It was like the holy trinity of foreplay, his skilled tongue and fingers hitting your three most pleasurable zones at once. Your climax hit quickly, walls tightening around his digits as you clamped your forearm across your mouth, desperately trying not to scream his name. He peppered kisses down your throat as his fingers rode you through your high, only pulling them away when you went limp under him. Harry held his fingers to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick off every trace of your creamy come.

He backed off you to kick his boxers down his legs, stroking his erection as it oozed precum. He found his wallet, pulling out a condom and rolling it down the length of his cock. “How do you want me, sweet girl?” he asked you, cock twitching in his hand. “Wanna go on top,” you told him, suddenly eager to impress. If his cock was anywhere near as good to you as his hands and mouth had been, you couldn’t only have him once. You needed to show him how good your pretty pussy could take him, make him want to come back for more.

Harry rolled onto the centre of the bed, hands guiding your hips down over his groin. His hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you towards him for a sloppy kiss. His mouth tasted of you, the familiar tingle of juices on his tongue. You stroked his member up and down quickly, before lining it up with your entrance and pushing yourself down onto his tip. “Fuck, H. You’re so big,” you whined, thighs burning as you hovered above him. He used his hands to move you up, then down, down, down, helping you to take him fully. The burn was like nothing you’d experienced before, his girthy cock crammed into every corner of your pussy. You stilled for a moment, hands resting against his butterfly tattoo, chest rising and falling quickly as you tried to push past the ache. He held a thumb under your chin, tilting your head to look at him. “You ok, pet?” he asked, needing to be sure before you continued. You nodded, moving one arm to pull his finger into your mouth. You licked circles around his fingertip, sucking it in down to his knuckle before releasing with it a pop.

Harry’s hands guided your hips to grind against him, helping you until you found your rhythm. He pulled them away, one landing with a loud smack on your ass cheek as the other crept up the front of your body, resting at your throat. He squeezed lightly, the sensation only spurring you on to bounce up and down on him, the combination of your juices squelching as your cheeks slapped against his groin. It was the kind of hot, dirty sex you’d only ever dreamed of, and it had you falling apart on top of him. You cried out a strangled moan, expletives falling out of both of your mouths. “Feel so good around me,” Harry groaned, “so fucking wet. S’that all for me?”

“All for you, H. M’all yours,” you whimpered. His hips bucked against you as you told him you were his, fingers pulling away from your supple ass. He spat on them before dancing them back across your asscheek and smoothing the spit around your second hole, eyes fixed on your pussy bouncing on his cock. “Can I?” he asked you. “Please, H.”

He pushed a finger into your tightness, filling you up so well. You felt so full you could burst. His eyes were clouded over with lust, tiny hairs slick to his forehead with sweat. He looked feral, and you loved it. He repositioned his feet to where they were flat against the bed, hips knocking into you as you moved up and down his cock, his thrusts sending him deeper and deeper inside of you. You were both panting now, barely able to contain your highs for a second longer. “Come with me, come with me please,” you begged him, your second orgasm of the night starting to rise through your core. His thrusts got faster and sloppier, obscene sounds echoing around the room, a clear sign of what you were doing to anyone who could hear you right now. Your orgasm crept up on you quickly, thanks to Harry tightening his grip around your neck and pushing his finger further into your tight hole. Your head was thrown back as you came, back arched making his cock feel as though it could burst through your belly button. Harry moaned loudly, hips jutting one last time as he flooded the condom with his come. You collapsed in a sweaty heap, totally unable to hold yourself up any longer.

“Took me so well, angel girl,” Harry drawled as he pulled out of you, padding across the room to toss the condom and rinse his hands. You lay there in total bliss, comfortable in the knowledge that your friendship was long gone.

—

“Let me go first and you can come after,” you told Harry, holding a finger up to shush him when he started to laugh. “We’re grown adults, Y/N, it doesn’t matter if anyone sees us come out together.”

“I don’t write songs about sex and drugs. My body is still untouched in my parents eyes,” you told him, hand slipping from the doorknob as he pulled you in for another kiss. “Just don’t come until you hear me leaving.”

You crept out of the room as silently as you could, heels and dress bundled under one arm. You’d heard Anne, your parents and Gemma head out to the courtyard already, so there was no danger of being caught by prying eyes - or so you thought. As you were padding across the hallway to your room, Anne appeared round the corner. “I was just coming to see if you were awake,” she told you, eyes sparkling with glee. “No wonder your mum said your bed was untouched.” She knocked on Harry’s door with a tight-lipped smile lighting up her face. He opened the door wide-eyed as Anne pulled him into a firm hug, pressing a sticky lipgloss kiss to his cheek. “I always hoped you two would get together.” She disappeared back down the hall as quickly as she appeared, leaving you and Harry blushing.

You decided to make your way outside together, knowing it wouldn’t be long before your parents put two and two together anyway. Plus, you knew Anne wouldn’t be able to resist telling your mum and Gemma what she saw.

—

You decided to spend the day on the beach, you and Harry with your parents and Anne, since Gemma and Michal had already left for their honeymoon. It was a perfect summers day, the sun warm enough to enjoy but not hot enough to irritate you, the gentle sea breeze cooling you down as it washed over you. Your mum and Anne were sprawled across a linen blanket, two bottles of wine stood in the sand next to their feet. They called you over, instant dread washing over you as Anne excitedly shouted your name. “Do you have anything to tell us?” she asked you, and you were sure there would be mischief glinting in her eyes under her big sunglasses. They sat up and scooted over on their blanket, leaving space for you to slot in between. “Nothing that I’m sure you don’t already know,” you smirked, a deep blush creeping up your cheeks. Your mum looked between Anne and you, gasping as she swatted at your leg. “So it’s true! You dirty little minx.”

You held your head in your hands, mortified that your parents knew you’d slept with Harry. “Oh relax,” your mum told you. “It’s nothing we haven’t done before,” she smirked, throwing herself towards Anne as they howled in laughter. Anne stopped suddenly, her hand tapping at your mum’s thigh incessantly. “If they get married, we’ll be real family!” she gasped, face pink with joy. “Well, the pact is what got us there in the first place,” Harry told them, sitting down next to you and snaking a hand around your waist.

“I forgot all about that,” your mum’s jaw went slack. “Do you still have it?” she asked Anne. “Of course I do. Kept it safe to show them when they found their way back to each other, always knew this day would come.”

part two

taglist: @sleutherclaw @harrysolaf @slutforcoffein

#harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry edward styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #Harry styles #harry styles fic #harryslittlefreakk #harry styles masterlist

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 13 days

Note

You asked for Spencer Reid and Reader requests, particularly plus size, and I am so down bad for that man! Especially later seasons him.

Could I have one where he and the reader are intellectual peers but also enemies? Like she's on the team and just as wicked smart as him and into old literature and languages but they constantly butt heads? And the team knows they really just have feelings for each other, but they'll never admit it. Maybe the reader admits it to Penelope or someone one night drinking that he's hot but she never thought he'd actually sleep with her bc she's fat, but she'll take his attention any way she can get it. Maybe Spencer overhears and proceeds to show her just how hot he finds her arguing with him? 👀 Thank you in advance, girlie!

༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

— summary: you and spencer hate each other, that much is obvious... right?

— warnings: very surprisingly crude language in this, self-doubt, implied insecurities, misunderstandings, e2l, they're in love and everyone else knows besides them, i made them dorks i don't apologize, mentions of wet dreams, mentions of male masturbation, dirty thoughts, kissing, stripping, vaginal fingering, spencer's dirty mouth, lots of reassurance 'cause i'm a sap, spencer reid #1 consent king, missionary, unprotected sex, sex god spencer?!?! (he does his research), pleasure dom!spencer, switch r & spencer, heavy praise, and a fluffy ending to tie this all up in a nice little bow!

— wc: 3136

⋆ a/n: okay i do admit that this is RIDICULOUSLY long, but i knew exactly what i was getting into writing this and honestly i had so much fun! i don't think i've ever created such characters that have so much chemistry with each other, so cheers to that! (unedited unfortunately :[)

masterlist | AO3

As soon as you hear Spencer’s voice, you make a point to groan obnoxiously loud.

“And just to think I would be able to go home without a headache today.”

You could feel the glare from said man burning a hole in the back of your head, so you swivel your chair around in order to face the music – in a pleasurable masochist kind of way. His annoyingly handsome face was twisted up in irritation – much to your glee – his eyebrows turned down, and his perfect, plush lips pulled into a deep frown.

You could tell you had interrupted him saying something that he deemed important, most likely a fact that you and him would go back and forth on, and you couldn’t be more pleased with yourself.

“Funny you mention that seeing as though your voice is the cause of mine.” He bit back, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Aw, you think of my voice?” You tease. “Only in my nightmares.” You wink at him. “You still think about me.”.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Luke piped up from his own desk, drawing the attention from your other intrigued co-workers in the bullpen. “Oh here we go.” Tara said in amusement at Luke’s rambling.

“Back when I was a kid there was this girl that I went to school with, and I would always tug on her hair or try to trip her,” His voice was almost reminiscent. “Everyone thought I hated her, when in reality I was just trying to get her attention.”

“Ah,” Matt said with a smile, “The classic ‘boy bullying the girl he likes,’ or in this case, it’s the girl this time.” Your cheeks began to heat and your eyes went wide, Spencer’s own face and the tips of his ears turning an admirable pink hue.

“Absolutely not -”

“What? No -”

Both Spencer and you stumbled over each other to try and defend yourself, but you didn’t have a chance because Emily’s voice cut through whatever was about to be said next, the woman making haste from her office and into the room with the round table.

“Alright you guys, enough. We’ve got a case.”

“To a job well done!” Penelope cheered as she held up her citrusy alcoholic beverage in the air, signaling she wanted to toast.

You smiled indulgently at the woman sitting next to you, clinking your glass with hers noisily and flickering your eyes over to where a disheveled Spencer Reid sat. You didn’t say anything to him though, because you’re a big ol’ softie and like to let the boy wonder rest before you have him back on his toes.

His eyes met yours the same time your glasses collided. You wish you could say that the vibrations from the clinking was the cause of the shiver that forced its way down your spine, but you knew better.

It was like the rest of the bar disappeared, the sound of the others joining in on your rejoicing fell on deaf ears. You could have sworn his dark brown puppy-dog eyes drank you in before he looked away and cleared his throat, taking a rather comically large gulp of his water.

Your eyelashes fluttered like a thousand butterflies wings as you rushed to drink your own beverage.

“Okay, what was that!?” You felt Penelope’s finger poke at your ribs before you actually heard her.

“Ow - fuck! What was what?” You yelped quietly, your hand reaching down to bat away her stabbing digits. “The - the -” She fought to portray her words before her face lit up when she found the correct ones, “The eyefucking!”

Your stomach erupted in butterflies, “Eyefucking? What eyefucking?” You asked with a scoff, hiding your blush behind the rim of your mug.

“Oh, please, don’t give me that.” It was Penelope’s turn to scoff at you. “Everybody knows that you and Spencer like each other.” She said it almost like it was a fact, leaning forward to take a smug sip of her drink through the miniature black straw.

Spencer knew listening in on Penelope and your conversation was inappropriate; but in his defense, you guys weren’t really quiet about what you were talking about.

“I -” He heard you begin, “It’s one-sided.” Was all you said before draining your beer. “So you admit it!” Penelope exclaimed with a gasp.

Spencer felt his eyes go wide at her words, but there was this desperate feeling that spread throughout his body; one that caused his fingers to twitch and the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

“When you put it like that it sounds childish!” You complained slightly, biting at the meat of your lip. “I… I’m just not his type you know? Like - you know better than anyone that guys don’t pay attention to girls like us, so you have to learn to improvise.” You were cringing at your own words, but the liquid in your cup was enough to loosen your tongue and lower your inhibitions.

“Was me choosing to constantly argue with him the smartest way to try and peak his interest? No, but I knew he liked a challenge and well… it definitely wasn’t the proudest conclusion I ever came to, but what was I supposed to do? It isn’t like Spencer would date me let alone actually want to sleep with me.”

Spencer wanted to argue with you about how wrong you were, to tell you about every thought he’d ever had about you.

He wanted to tell you about how much you frustrate him, how at first, he thought he hated you and it took him an embarrassingly long time to realize he hated how badly he wanted you; hated how many dirty dreams he had included you and that plush body of yours. He’d wondered how soft you were, how you smelled and tasted.

Did your moans and whines sound as enchanting as your laugh? Did your eyes twinkle the same way when you were about to cum?

Those thoughts kept him up at night and his hands in his pants, stroking himself to his unlimited imagination all revolved around you. Those were the days that he was more prone to pick fights with you, mostly because he was embarrassed, ashamed, and quite frankly plain ol’ horny.

Spencer thought you were just so sexy, especially when he had managed to light that fire under your ass that really got you going. He wasn’t a sadist or a masochist by any means, but he loved when you yelled at him. So, for you to think so lowly of yourself it almost drove him mad because you didn’t know.

But you were going to.

You were going to kill whoever was bothering you on your day off.

The knocking was unexpected, but so was who was responsible for the noise.

“Spencer?” You asked in surprise.

Usually you were prepared for your exchanges with the man, but if your pajamas were anything to go by, you were anything but. Spencer felt his mouth go dry at the sight of your tits sitting braless in a thin undershirt, your soft tummy slightly straining against the cotton material and a pair of shorts that look like they were practically strangling your thighs.

The only thing he could really say was… “Do you know how infuriating you are?”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you crossed your arms over your chest, and little did you know the action pressed the tops of your breasts over the hemline. “Excuse me?” You almost scoffed, “Please don’t tell me you came all the way here just to argue with me.”

“No I - fuck just let me finish.” This was not how he wanted this to go. You looked like you wanted to say something but your curiosity made you choose to stay silent.

“Do you know why you’re so infuriating?” He asked, taking a tentative but careful step towards you. “Because you haunt my every living thought. I see you when I’m awake, I see you when I’m asleep. I can’t… I can’t escape you! I can’t escape how I feel about you.”

Your eyes were wide and your brows were furrowed; it looked like you almost couldn’t breathe.

“But you want to know the worst part?” His hand lands on your cheek and his thumb gently caresses the skin there. “You have the audacity to think that I wouldn’t want you.”

“You want me?” You asked in disbelief. “But I… but I thought you hated me? I mean - I haven’t been all that nice to you.” You attempt to joke weakly, but your body is on fire; your stomach is tangled up in knots. You were trembling in excitement at his words but in disbelief too.

“Do you have any idea how much I love arguing with you?”

You laughed at his words, your lips slipping into a small smirk as you threw your arms around his neck in an act of boldness. “Oh yeah?” You hummed seductively. “You wanna show me how much?”

“Yeah,” He replied breathlessly. “I do.”

And just like that his mouth was on yours and a long leg shot out behind him to shut your front door. The slam made you yelp, but it quickly melted into a giggle against his lips when he reconnected them.

Spencer tugged you closer to him, and God the feeling of your body was so much better than anything his subconscious could have conjured up. You felt so soft and the front part of your torso pressed against his chest in a way that if he didn’t have you naked under him soon he was going to go crazy.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He didn’t want to pull away from you, but he wanted to do this right.

“I didn’t know you were a gentleman, Reid.” You teased with a dazed smile on your face. “There’s a lot of things that you don’t know about me.” You quirked a brow. “Oh really? How about you tell me?”

“Later,” He said with a lazy shake of his head, “Later.”

His hand reached down to cup your ass, your crotch rubbing on the large boner restrained by his pants. You moaned quietly at the feeling, and found yourself saying, “Down the hall and to the left.”

When you arrived, he couldn’t keep his hands off you; they grabbed at your back, ass, waist, hips. There was so much of you that he had no idea where to start. All he knew is that he wanted all of you right now.

“Can I take your shirt off, please?” His words almost came out as a whine and it welcomed a fresh wave of arousal in your panties. “Take off whatever you want, I’m yours.” A reassuring confession that Spencer had no idea he needed to hear.

His lithe, veiny hands tugged at your top first, dragging it over your head and throwing it somewhere random. Your pants and panties were next to go and you couldn’t help but shiver at Spencer's intense stare.

“I’m uh- feeling a little vulnerable here, could you lose a layer or two?”

The man blinked rapidly, his fingers shooting to undo the buttons on his cardigan. “Yes, yeah of course, sorry I -'' You grabbed the shaky digits. “Calm down, take it slow. I’m not going anywhere.” It was a light jab meant to ease his nerves. For a moment he looked unsure but you gave an encouraging smile.

After his clothes disappeared he held you by your waist, walking you backwards until your calves hit the bed. You quickly hurried to scale the mattress until your head hit the pillows.

“God,” Spencer gulped. “This is so much better than what I imagined.” You giggled slightly. “As much as I appreciate your flattery, I want you to fuck me. Now.” You said it with such simplicity that his eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets at your crudeness.

He swallowed his shock. “Whatever the lady wants.”

He hurried to crawl over your leaning body; you cup his cheek in an act of haste, dragging him down to lay on top of you. His own hands didn’t stop their determined trail, tracing the soft planes of your plush body until he reached your wet cunt.

You whine loudly at the feeling of Spencer’s fingers stroking your damp slit.

“So responsive.” He murmured with delighted smirk. You go to say something snarky but you’re quickly cut off when he begins to rub tight circles on your clit. “‘M sensitive.” You gasp against his lips, your back arching and pressing further into him.

His body falls to the side, laying next to your naked one with a cheek balanced on his fist. “I’m gonna make you cum on my fingers first,” Spencer whispers into your ear. His ring finger entered your warmth slowly and he felt himself choke on his words. You mewled, a hand shooting up to tangle in his long, curly hair, the other grabbed at his wrist.

“Then, I’m gonna make you cum on my cock.” After a few experimental twists of his wrist, his middle finger joins the first. Your breathing speeds up with every movement of his digits.

“Afterwards, ‘m gonna clean you up and take you out to eat.” Your brain could barely process what he was saying, but every word that left his mouth added to the swarming butterflies in your gut – which felt so juvenile seeing as though he was already knuckle deep inside you.

“And when we get home, I’m gonna eat this sweet pussy for dessert.”

Your eyelashes were fluttering rapidly, your hips moving frantically on his fingers in an attempt to try and get him deeper. Spencer must have sensed what you needed, because with a few firm swipes on your sensitive clit sent you spiraling over the edge.

“Spencer, Spencer, Spencer… I - I -” Your gummy walls squeezed his digits, and the only thing keeping you grounded was the heat coming from his body.

“Wow.” You laughed breathlessly. “Wow indeed.” He mimics with the same amount of amusement.

“Are you okay to keep going?” He asks.

“Are you kidding?” The look on his face was almost laughable, and you gave his naked chest an encouraging pat. “Hell yeah I’m good, how about you?”

“If I told you I could cum just from watching you, would you believe me?” You roll your eyes and snort. “We’ll find out later, loverboy. Get up here.”

He scrambles to get on top of you, but then stops. “Wait, wait,” He reaches behind your head and grabs a pillow. “Lift your hips up for me.” Your eyes go wide, because who in the fuck taught him that? Though you move a bit slowly through your surprise, he manages to get the soft thing under you, your lower back now elevated.

But all excitement dies out when he realizes there might be no protection, he looks like he could almost cry.

“It’s cool, Spence. I’m on the pill and I… I haven’t had sex with anyone in an embarrassingly long time.” You admit shyly, your eyes casting to the side nervously. “I’m clean too. I don’t really remember the last time I’ve had sex either.”

You guys make eye contact and erupt into a fit of giggles, “To relearning the art of sexual intercourse then.” Spencer scrunches his nose up at your wording, but you don’t give him any time to retort because you’ve already placed two hands on his face, tugging his head down to kiss your smile-split lips.

He takes the time to kiss you for a moment before reaching down to line his dick up to your entrance. You both shiver at the sensation. You guys disconnect your lips to watch him enter you, your foreheads pressed together and breaths mingled in anticipation.

You moaned in unison when he slowly but surely seethed himself in you fully, and your body tensed at the long awaited intrusion. “Gimme a sec.” You gulped. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” He panted.

You allowed yourself a moment to relax, brushing your fingers through his curls as a way to comfort Spencer as well. After taking a few more seconds to enjoy the raw, intimate moment between the two of you, you said, “Okay. Okay, I’m good.”

Spencer licked his lips and rolled his hips tentatively, and your breath hitched. A string of whimpers were soon to follow with every drag of his cock against your sensitive inner walls, the leftovers of your previous orgasm leaving your body feeling electric.

Your mouth drops open into an ‘o’ shape when his tip brushes your g-spot.

“Right - right there Spence…good boy - fuck - good fucking boy.”

The term of endearment was an accidental slip of the tongue, but it had frayed some nerve in his body, because the groan that left him was guttural and hungry.

“Say -” He huffs. “Say it again, please.” The pace of his thrusts speed up as he begs, and your nails drag down his back. “You’re my good boy, Spencie.” His eyes flutter shut at the praise and he doesn’t bother to be gentle anymore.

“Mphm! More - I need more.”

“Okay, okay.” He rushed to balance on his elbow so that his other arm could slip between the two of your bodies to rub at your clit. Your back arched, and Spencer all but throbbed inside of you, his balls tightening and threatening to cum right then and there; but ever the gentleman, he waited, his stomach sucked in tightly and his body jolting quivering.

“I - I’m gonna cum.”

It didn’t take much to pull you into a kiss. It was sloppy, and messy, and lewd and all of those other wonderful synonyms. Spit dribbled down your chins and with one last hard thrust that almost sent you up the bed, you gripped onto the older man for dear life.

Everything went white as you came; your hearing, your vision, every single cognitive thought you had pretty much flew out the window.

It was Spencer gently wiping the sweat off of your brow that brought you back down to reality, your lungs finally opening up and expanding for that much needed air.

“Hey,” He cooed. “There you are.”

“Hi,” You sighed with a ditzy smile on your face.

There was a moment of silence before you said, “How about we save the oral for breakfast?” Spencer laughed, but nonetheless nodded in agreement. “That sounds perfect.”

“So, what’s for dessert then?” He couldn’t help but ask. “Hm…” You pondered for a moment.

“How about ice cream?”

“I like ice cream.” But then he added, “But I like you more.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst.” You groaned, covering your eyes, but your grin gave you away. “I like you too, I guess.”

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a-aexotic · 1 year

Note

could you do a rafe imagine where reader is a pouge and she’s working at the country club as a server or as a bust gal and kelce says something about her but rafe secretly likes the reader and he defends her and gets pissed at his friends for talking bad about her or saying something degrading or ojectifyinfg about her and then the reader finds out rafe defended her from topper ?? Bc topper is secretly kind (apart from the fire tbh) and reader confronts rafe about why he defended her

pairing. rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings. sooo much fluff, degrading language towards women, a fight (kinda), out of character top/rafe, lmk if i missed anything!

summary. rafe has a crush on you and topper makes it his top priority to get you two together after you confess your feelings, too.

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. masterlist. taglist. ❫

You were exhausted at this time of day and you just wanted to go home and rest. Your eyes were heavy and your feet hurt from these stupid heels the club makes you wear. You had one last table before you could clock out; you could already feel the warm bath you were going to draw tonight.

Until you saw who you were serving; Kook royalty themselves. Rafe, Topper, Kelce and a few guys you don't recall the names of. You prepared yourself for the longest hour serving these boys.

You walked up to them, a big smile on your lips. If you were going to serve some snotty Kooks you might as well get a good tip. "Hey, um. I'm Y/N, and I'm your waiter for tonight. Can I get you started with any drinks?"

You handed out the menus and you could already feel their stares at your body and face, making you feel a tiny bit self conscious. In the corner of your eye you saw Kelce turn to one of the boys to whisper something and he immediately turned red before letting out a chuckle.

You saw Topper and Rafe make eye contact before Rafe rolled his eyes, making Topper sigh.

"Sure, for me, I don't know about the others though." Topper nodded politely as you smiled.

"Yeah, I'm super thirsty." One of the boys had commented as the whole table (minus Topper and Rafe) erupted in laughter. You were disgusted and honestly disappointed, I mean, how low could these jerks get?

Rafe cleared his throat and the whole table became quiet once again. "Me and Top are going to get some Old-Fashion's. I don't know about the others."

"Make that three more." Kelce added and you nodded politely, jotting it down quickly on the notepad.

"Okay, I will be right back with your drinks. Take a look at the menus, alright?" You walked away with another big smile and as you turned, it immediately dropped.

You didn't necessarily hate Kooks; well, not to the extent of JJ or Pope. You could honestly stand them; sure, they made you uncomfortably sometimes but at least at the end of it, you have a good tip.

"Take a look at those menus, more like take a look at that ass!" The boy had said and Kelce and other one let out another laugh. Rafe couldn't stand it.

The jokes weren't funny and were low blows, they were some of the worst jokes he'd heard in months. It was stupid. Rafe held in all his anger because he didn't want to cause a scene, especially here or in front of you.

He's been trying to make a move on you for months; giving extra tips, complimenting you, asking if you could help with the golf cart. And now all his hard was going down the drain because you're going to think he's shallow and idiotic because of his 'friends.'

The only person he actually liked right now was Topper and that's saying a lot. He felt bad for you as well. Rafe didn't really feel empathetic towards anyone but seeing you put on a fake smile and nod off the joke like it was nothing reminded him of someone.

"God what I would do to take her to bed." One of the boys sighed as the others agreed. Rafe bit his tongue as they continued.

"I'm sure she would," Kelce took a drink of his water. "If you tipped her enough."

"You're right, she's a Pogue. I'm sure she needs the money."

Rafe was disgusted. Is this really what they thought about? "Shut the fuck up, dude. That's not funny."

The table went quiet as the guy turned to Rafe. "What the fuck is your problem man, you've been in a bitch mood ever since we came in here. I mean, come on, it's a fucking joke."

"A joke? You call that a fucking joke?" Rafe started raising his voice. "You're the fucking joke here, dude. Who the fuck says that shit? Especially while she's literally over there."

Topper nodded. "Yeah, have some decency. Y/N's actually so sweet."

The two boys looked at each other before laughing. "Oh I see what's goin on here. You two are acting like you're all above this, above us, so she can see how gentleman-ly you are and let you tag team her, huh?"

"Not everything is about sex, dude. Maybe we actually think she's nice and a human being that deserves a little respect. She's, y'know, a living breathing human with thoughts in case you've forgot." Rafe was seeing red and he was about to throw a punch before Topper kicked his leg.

"What, dude? It's true." Rafe looked at Topper before he sighed.

"Let's just finish the drinks and then we can go, alright?" Topper was trying to calm things down and Rafe took a deep breath before nodding.

You had come back with all the drinks on a platter. You felt the shift in energy, it was a lot more tense now than it was. "Alright, have you guys figured out what you guys wanted to eat?"

You passed out the drinks.

"That would be it, can you uh, get the check please?" Rafe's voice was much softer and politer than usual and you nodded. You appreciated the manners; you don't see a lot of that in the country club.

"Okay, sure. I will be right back with the check." You smiled at him and his cheeks turned a little red as he turned away. Topper noticed this and was a little confused.

Rafe had never mentioned liking you in anyway. He was now wondering if he had just started liking you or if this was something that's been happening for a while now.

"Okay, Kelce, how much would you pay me if I went up to her and asked her out on a date?"

"Nothing, dude. You'll be getting the award, why would I have to pay?" Kelce responded, drinking a little of his drink.

Rafe flared his nostrils as he kept in his anger once again. He didn't want to blow up again, people were already staring.

"Dude, you won't do it." The other guy laughed. "You're a fuckin pussy."

"There's no way she'll say yes." Kelce added.

The other guy rolled his eyes, "How much do you wanna bet?"

Kelce laughed, "100$ easy, dude."

He laughed, "Okay, I'll be a 100$ richer."

"You're definitely going to lose that 100, man."

You came back and put the check down with a small smile. "Is that all boys?"

"Yes." Rafe quickly said, taking the check and putting his card in. The others exchanged looks. Before you could away, the boy had started to say something.

"Y/N, right?" He looked at your nametag then to your low V-cut shirt before looking back at your face. "I was wondering if you could let me take you out later this week, maybe... Saturday? I'm havin a big party, I'd just love for you to come."

Rafe was angry he felt like his eyes were going to bulge out of his eyelids as he stared daggers at the guy.

You stood there, a bit shocked. There were a few seconds before you could respond. "I would love to. But uh, I'm already dating someone."

"Really?" Topper looked confused, you'd never mentioned one. You glared down at him before smiling and nodding. Rafe felt like his world had come crashing down. You had a boyfriend?

"Yup, JJ. Two months!" You said dramatically. "Sorry... About that."

The guy looked pissed, turning away from you. "You weren't even that pretty anyway." He muttered.

Your eyes widened and immediately took that as your que to leave, walking away. "Okay.."

Rafe quickly got up after you, taking out his wallet and taking out a 20$, handing it to you.

Your eyes had widened at how much he was tipping. "Whoa, are you sure?"

"Very. My friends were douches to you and I apologize. I don't even know the other two dudes' names."

You laughed, the first real genuine laugh you've had all day. It was a like breathe of fresh air. "Me neither, but I can't take this, that's so much." You pushed away the money.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, you can." He put it in the pocket in your shirt before sighing. "Enjoy the rest of your night."

He walked away to the rest of his friends and you smiled at the nice gesture. Rafe, despite the opinion of your friends, was actually kinda sweet. I mean, he was sure as hell better than the rest of his friends (minus Topper).

"Dude, that took you long enough." You heard one of them groan.

"Shut up." You heard Rafe reply as you smiled to yourself. You immediately shook away the smile, sighing. Why was the Kook prince making you smile? Wow, you were in desperate need of a bath and a good meal, 8 hour shifts aren't your strong suit.

You were surprised and confused at Topper's words.

"Yeah, he was like, genuinely pissed. I've never seen him that mad and that's saying a lot."

Your eyebrows were furrowed, "Wait, wait. So he defended me?"

Topper looked at you like it was the most obvious thing of all. "That's what I've been saying for the last half an hour, have you been listening?"

You rolled your eyes at Topper's unnecessary sassiness, "Yes, Top, it's just been really hard to process."

"What's hard about it? Rafe has literally never had a soft spot for anyone except Wheeizie, like ever. And he's rich. He can spoil you and you're literally set for life-"

"Whoa, okay." You started laughing. "Let's not go that far. I am not marrying Rafe Cameron." ok girl...

"Okay but think about it." He smiled. "We could be like kinda related. If Sarah marries me... or if Rafe considers me a best friend, I could be like your brother-in-law."

You started laughing harder, "Sarah's not marrying you."

He didn't look too amused by that. "Okay, shut up, seriously. Rafe likes you."

The more you imagined his face and his smile, his dad outfits and the way he literally is an asshole to everyone except you, the more hot your face felt.

Topper smiled as he playfully pushed your shoulder making you laugh. "He's cute."

"Cute? Don't call say that to his face, he'll get all flustered and then roll his eyes."

You already imagine his face, making you laugh a little harder. "Okay, okay. If... if I were to like him back, how would I approach him?"

Topper sighed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Okay, uh. Maybe just talk to him and flirt before he asks you out."

"That's so obvious-"

"He tipped you a 20 last night and you're worried you're making it obvious? Are you serious?"

You rolled your eyes. You reminded yourself to talk to Topper about his attitude problem later because it's getting a bit much. "Okay. Fine. I will."

Other than being a waitress at the country club, some days they put you on the Beverage Cart duty. It was probably because they were short in staff that day but honestly you didn't mind. You'd rather be out on the golf course then cooped up in the restaurant. You also get double the tips than you would inside.

Plus, you had a cute golf outfit on with the cute visor; you felt like a true Kook.

As you were going around, selling drinks, you saw Topper and Rafe. Of course they were going to the club today; it was nice Saturday afternoon. You face palmed yourself. You already knew what Topper was going to do.

Topper saw you as well, a smirk forming on his lips. "Rafe, uh. Remember Y/N?"

Rafe felt himself blush at the mention of you. He shook it off, nodding. "Uh, yeah. Doesn't she work here?"

"Yep. Also, I was uh, talkin to her the other day and she called you cute."

Rafe's mouth flew open as he whipped his head towards Topper. "What?"

Topper smiled. "Yeah, she called you cute. Like, really cute. She was blushing and shit."

Rafe smiled and he didn't even feel it. "Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah, dude. And, oh! Speaking of the devil, there she is."

Rafe's eyes widened as he looked over at you and shook his head. "Oh, uh."

"I know you like her, man." Topper added as he looked to Rafe.

He shook his head. "No, I don't like her. I think she's cute."

Topper rolled his eyes. "And you blush around you, you stumble over your words, you tip her real good. You were practically on the floor kicking your feet in the air and blushing when I told you she said you were cute."

Rafe frowned at Topper's wording and before he could protest, he started pushing Rafe towards the cart. "Dude, hold on."

"Ask her out, man."

"Not now, dude, I've been plotting for months now, I can't just-"

"Dude, do you trust me?" Topper stopped and looked dead in the eyes.

"No." Rafe stated before Topper rolled his eyes for what seemed to be the fifty-th time that day.

"I don't care, now come on." He pushed Rafe towards the cart before grabbing the back of his collar, making him walk towards you. If this was any other situation, Rafe would've landed a punch to Top's jaw but he didn't wanna scare you off, so he kept his cool.

You stared the two as they approached the cart. They seemed too... normal. They were both smiling and you felt like they were plotting. You know for a fact that Topper is.

"Hey."

"Hi." They both said in union, making Rafe look back at Topper, furrowing his eyebrows.

"What can I get you two?" There was unnecessary awkwardness between the three of you as they both looked at each other.

"Two... sodas."

"Sodas?" You looked assumed. Were they 12?

Topper looked back at you. "Yes."

As you reached for the cooler, you heard Topper make an 'O' sound. You turned around.

"Oh shit. I forgot my wallet, I will be right back. Rafe, you stay here and get us the sodas, alright?"

Rafe looked back with his teeth gritted, a warning to Topper. "Topper."

He shrugged. "I'll be right back." He jogged away as you and Rafe made eye contact.

You knew that he knew what you had told Topper. And then, Rafe realized the same thing. He didn't know what Topper had told you but he just hopes it wasn't too embarrassing.

"Um. I never asked but um, what sodas do you want?"

"Ginger ale. I'm pretty Topper wants something girly like Diet Coke or something like that." Rafe mumbled the last part but you heard it. You let a horrendously loud laugh because you knew Topper would get a Diet Coke.

You suddenly felt embarrassed but it melted as you heard Rafe's small laugh as well. Butterflies filled your stomach as you heard him.

"Okay, then. One ginger ale and uh... a Diet Coke." You laughed a little after, making Rafe smile.

As you handed him the Ginger Ale, your hands touched and you felt like your face was on fire. You quickly pulled away.

"Hey, uh..." Rafe started. "Did Topper say anything about me?"

"In what way?"

"Um, I don't know... something involving you?" Rafe inquired as you smiled.

"Did he say anything to you about me?"

"Maybe." He dragged out the 'e' sound as you rolled your eyes at him playfully.

"Topper may have mentioned a few things about you. But they weren't bad. They were actually a little... admiring to hear."

He went red as he looked down at his feet. "Topper just loves to run his mouth."

You nodded in agreement. "Yeah. He definitely loves to gossip."

He laughed at your wording. "He said some stuff about you, too. It was... admiring, too."

Your cheeks had begun to hurt from smiling this hard and it'd been only a couple minutes.

"Okay." Rafe sighed. "Are we talking about the same thing-"

"Yes, we are. I think."

Rafe was going to have to push all his pride and ego just this time. "I think that you're really pretty... and if you're not with JJ, I'd love to take you out on a date."

You had forget he heard that part. "I'm not with JJ."

"Okay, then what do you say?"

"Yes, Rafe." You smiled at him and he swore his heart did a little flip at the sound of that.

"Okay," he sounded breathless.

You then turned in your cart, looking for a piece of paper and your pen. You found one and then wrote down your number. You turned back and handed it to him. "Text me and then we can sort out the details, okay?"

"Yeah, for sure."

Topper finally walked back, wallet in hand, a big grin on his tanned face. He looked down at the paper in his hand and gave Rafe a proud pat on the back.

"Here's your Diet Coke," you held in your laugh as you gave the drink to Topper. Rafe smiled back at you as Topper opened it quickly and took a big gulp.

"Thank you. I knew you'd know my favorite drink, Y/N." He took out a 5 dollar bill and gave it to you before winking and you felt yourself cringe at Topper as you took the 5.

He and Rafe walked away and you stood there, your heart beating fast as you watched them walk away.

"What'd I say? Trust me, Rafe, I promise it'll work out and look, it worked out!"

"Yeah, for once, dude."

"Oh, shut up."

You heard their argument and laughed to yourself, getting back into your cart to drive to the next course.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 9 days

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rabbit costume + luxe couture miss raven

Because I love the Alice in Wonderland aesthetic and White Rabbit Fest is running in EN right now… 😭 I decided to make a Rabbit Costume for my OC! Figured I’d also do the same for the event running in JP at the same time, Tapis Rouge in the Shaftlands.

Special thanks goes to @peripheralsanity for the super adorable bonus drawing of Miss Raven in her Rabbit Costume 😭 I wanna cram that bunny into my mouth like an Easter marshmallow…

My own doodles are below the cut, along with various design notes 📝

First up, the Rabbit Costume!

It takes a lot of inspiration from Alice herself: the bow in her hair, the dress, the apron. Miss Raven’s Heartslabyul dorm uniform design also pulls inspiration from Alice, so I tried very hard to make this look unique from that!

There’s a lot more bows, frills, and huge, goofy-looking accessories—like the rabbit ears + tail plus the shoes. The outfit also features a lot of pastel checkerboard pattern and shimmery makeup, like what is featured in Deuce’s Rabbit Costume. Upon closer inspection, there’s even more intricacies! Raven’s apron has heart-shaped pockets, the apron’s top has card motifs stitched into it, and the corset belt has a rabbit slowly dressing and then taking up a bugle to play. The transition demonstrates her own adaption to living among non-animals 😅

The rabbit on her skirt, chain, prize ribbon, and earring aren’t the White Rabbit but a cobbled together rabbit that’s missing an eye. The XO Rabbit poses as and stillinvokes the image of the White Rabbit, especially when it’s right next to a pocket watch. It fits Raven, who is someone not “organically” in the world of TWST (since she’s an OC).

I think my favorite part of this design is the super wacky and big hair. You may recognize it from the Hatsune Miku x Cinnamoroll campaign that was popular a while back. The shape reminded me of bunny ears, so I thought it would be nice to incorporate into Raven’s Rabbit Costume.

There’s so many strange things in clock town to observe! Miss Raven would have a fun time hopping around and seeing the sights… documenting them with Ortho, picking out clocks and other souvenirs with Silver, chomping through the local specialties with Epel. Ah, and as for Deuce 🤔 “Your son is trying very hard in his studies, ma’am,” she’d tell Dylla very seriously. “I commend him for his efforts.” (She very tactfully focuses on his improvements and personal growth over the actual numbers he produces.) Students of 1-A gotta look out for each other, right? Deuce fist bumps her behind her back or something to signal his thanks.

Miss Raven isn’t the athletic type, so I don’t think she would run in the relay race with them. (It would be hard to run in that dress anyway.) She can stick on the sidelines and cheer for them…!

Next is the Luxe Couture!

I actually made two variants. One is more inspired by the Fairest Queen’s raven and the other is similar to the SR and R boys’ huntsman-inspired designs.

The first has more of an old-fashioned movie star feel to it… which isn’t really what Vil invited the other students for so it falls outside of canon 😂 I just thought it would be cool to have a more personalized, glamorous fit for Raven.

She has much darker and more excessive eye makeup in this version. A bold, more confident look outside of her usual wheelhouse. Her hair is also curled into her face to resemble feathers, and her bun also has strands spiked up to look like feathers too. The dress itself is also very feathery, forming a train behind her wherever she stomps in her heels. The top of the dress also acts as a feather boa, making her appear larger and more intimidating than she actually is.

If you’re wondering why tiny skull earrings, it’s because the Evil Queen’s raven falls into a skull at one point in the movie 💀 since it’s so taken aback by what it is witnessing… That “wow!” but also somewhat scared feeling is very similar to how Raven feels entering Fairest City, so I wanted to include a skull in some way. If I made the motif too big or too obvious, then it might clash with the whole ensemble so I chose to go with an understated accessory instead.

This look is definitely the most “different” of the group, but I tried to keep some elements in common with the others. For example, Raven still has the lace curtain which appears from where her dress is slit. She also has sheer gloves that have been studded with little white rhinestones. The jewels aren’t as big or colorful as Vil’s, but that’s the point: to not outshine the star. Miss Raven is nothing more than the shadow that clings to its queen 😌

The more group-cohesive outfit is last!

It’s a similar double-breasted beige coat as Jamil’s, but it fans out into a dress + slacks at the bottom and has different sleeves. The puffiness of the sleeves at the shoulder and wrists make her seem large and in-charge! The buttons on her coat are large pearls.

I tried to maintain the huntsman’s color scheme throughout the outfit. Because of this, Raven’s belt is red and the lace in her dress is green. Her boots are similar to hiking boots (just picture them fancier in your head OTL I’m not great at drawing footwear).

We get her forehead in this design!! Her hair is pulled back into a “fancier than usual” ponytail, with her hair bunched into one loop before resuming as a normal ponytail. The clasp she uses is similar to the one Vil wears in his school uniform. Originally, I thought of just shoving an arrow through instead but decided against it since it makes the huntsman theme too obvious. The same reasoning came up when I considered giving Raven a small cocktail hat that looks similar to what the huntsman wore. Her head just looks so naked without something there 😂 but in the end I managed to refrain, and I think that helped the outfit look more clean and elegant.

Raven would be excited to visit Fairest City—it’s the capital of the entertainment industry! Though her main medium is quite different than that of films, she’s always wanted to visit for educational purposes. (Maybe she can learn from the scriptwriters there!) “At least one of you cares to learn,” Vil would tut. The trip’s a little stressful, trapped between Jamil and Azul’s petty remarks at one another and Ace teasing her for being the “odd one out” of the group—but hey, it’s all worth it for the experiences made there! I’d imagine that Raven loves all the pampering they get and all the important people they meet, it makes her feel like a real princess. Everywhere she looks, the streets and stores are shining too! Her raven blood is soaring. “I didn’t realize you had such excitable juniors, Vil,” Eric would chuckle. (“Waaaah, so cool! Like a prince!!” Raven would gush, earning eye rolls from her classmates and a groan from Ace.)

Walking on the red carpet wouldn’t interest her that much; she doesn’t like the attention so she tries hard to just fade behind the others and play support as best she can. Carrying Vil’s things or helping him with his makeup is no problem, just don’t thrust her under the spotlight and all the flashing cameras!

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secretsofblackthornhall · 2 years

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Emma To Bruce

Dear Bruce,

We did it! The curse is broken! Rupert is free! Long live Rupert!

In retrospect, it’s insane how much of this we tried to do by ourselves. We should have known that when we finally succeeded we would do it with a whole team present—in this case Jem, Tessa, Kit, and Magnus. (Mina assisted by raising morale and drawing all over everything with her toy stele.)

Everyone’s still here, too, and we can relax a little in a newly uncursed house. (It really is quite homey, now that it’s been cleaned up and, you know, had its demonic aura dispelled.) Everyone except Magnus, who left this afternoon in a great rush to get back to New York.

New paragraph to talk about this, actually, because I have a lot of questions that don’t have answers and I can only ask you, Bruce. So Magnus was in a hurry to get back because of a meeting Alec is holding with Luke and some other Downworlders about plans for negotiating with the Cohort. Okay, but I feel like the Cohort doesn’t have much leverage, right? The situation is way worse for them than for us. We should be able to wait them out—shouldn’t we?

I mean they have a symbolic advantage, I guess. We’re all Shadowhunters and we all miss Idris and Alicante and Lake Lyn and probably a lot of us left stuff there we can’t get back and oh right, also a lot of people lived there who have had to evacuate all over the world and want to get back. I get that. But, like…what are the Cohort even eating in there? Idris doesn’t really grow food. Are they all homesteading in there? Raising crops? Churning butter? It’s kind of hard to imagine Zara doing any of that. But you never know. I mean, there aren’t even any demons to fight in there. Which is a good reminder that Shadowhunters are definitely not meant to hole up in Idris where there’s no demons for them to fight. I feel like Raziel was pretty clear on that point.

They must be losing their minds in there. I hope they found some board games or something.

Maybe Zara has declared herself Queen for Life and she doesn’t have to farm because she just marches around threatening to kill anybody who doesn’t grow her a potato right this instant.

Or maybe we haven’t heard anything because they all ate each other in there. Or maybe they mutinied against Zara and someone else gets to threaten to kill people now.

Okay, end of pondering the Cohort. I’m in a good mood, or was before I started this entry, anyway. We’ve been hanging out with Jem and Tessa and Kit and it’s really great. We ordered in Chinese (delivery couriers are always a bit terrified to come up the driveway, but we tip them like crazy so they’ve started to know us while we’ve been here). We lit candles—for ambience instead of for dark magic, what an idea!—and ate dumplings until we were too full to move, a thing I haven’t done since Magnus and Alec’s wedding. Apparently if I am offered dumplings, I will eat them until I become a dumpling myself. To that I say: I would never reject becoming that which I love most.

Anyway. Even Kit was less broody than usual tonight! He was hanging out with Round Tom and they seemed to be getting on okay. Oh, and I almost forgot! How could I forget! The workers found a coffin buried in the garden. But there was not a horrifying dead body inside, but rather a bunch of old stuff! Using a coffin as a time capsule seemed like a weird choice to me, but Tessa and Jem made some faces and some noises that suggested there was a long-ish story there we’ll have to ask about later.

Anyway, in the coffin was A SCABBARD FOR CORTANA. I mean, right? Can you believe it? Tessa said it used to belong to Cordelia Carstairs, who was Cortana’s wielder generations ago. The scabbard needs a lot of cleaning (a lot of cleaning) but then it can be reunited with Cortana. (After all, I think it’s probably more Cortana’s possession than anyone else’s; perhaps they’ll be happy to be reunited.)

There was also a sword for Julian—what used to be a Blackthorn family sword, but this one is only a hilt, its blade is totally missing, I have no idea why. He’s talking about getting it reforged. Big shock, Round Tom knows a guy. Triangular Jerry. No, I’m kidding on the name, but Round Tom actually does know a blacksmith and he and Julian have started talking about getting that done. (Actually, what Round Tom wants to do is have a forge installed at Chiswick, which is a cool idea, but do we want another building project on top of all the others? I mean, maybe, having a forge here at the house would be pretty cool.)

Oh, you might be wondering about Rupert’s ring, since it’s not like he could take it with him, and he hasn’t come back for it in a ghost way. Magnus checked it out and said no magic any more, just an ordinary ring Tatiana must have enchanted to bind Rupert. But none of us is going to wear it, of course. So we put it on the mantelpiece in the drawing room. Where it will remain.

The Gray-Carstairs-Herondaleses are heading back to Cirenworth tomorrow. It’s been really great having them here, but you know, it will be nice to have them go and have it be just Julian and I here in the house, not feeling creepy all the time. That seems like good times for us.

Bruce, good times are canceled. Everything’s gone wrong. I guess I was a little too smug about how everything was going; the universe had to come and screw it up for me.

Mina is gone.

And by gone I mean kidnapped.

And by kidnapped I mean, the kidnapper left a creepy old-timey porcelain doll (with wide, dead eyes, ugh) in her place, and a note.

I had just finished writing the above stuff when I heard a horrible scream from upstairs and loud footsteps, and came out to find everyone gathered in Mina’s room staring in horror.

I immediately thought oh no, another curse, or the same curse, the curse isn’t over, and maybe you did too, but that’s not what this is. This is something else entirely. Something involving faeries. Something involving Faerie.

Tessa picked up the note, read it, and handed it to Jem with a bad look on her face. Julian was already opening the window to see if anyone could be spotted outside, and I read over Jem’s shoulder:

#secrets of blackthorn hall #sobh #mina carstairs #emma carstairs #Tessa gray #faerie #jem carstairs #Rupert #zara dearborn #The Cohort #cortana

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coleslawleviathan · 2 months

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okay so. i challenged myself to try and draw some snakes and try to capture the features i want to stand out for them. i wanted to see if i could make them all look distinct but where its obvious they look extremely similar.

heres the main lineup but i want to get into design elements for them as well as some personal headcanons.

FIRST! bibo.

okay so. i'm going to toot my own horn here. i think his beard looks so fire and i did a good job. i imagine this design is around the portable ops era... not much else to say because most of the interesting stuff (at least to me) comes from the differences the others have from him.

V!!! I LOVE YOU V!!!!!!!!!!

for venom snake, i made him look like big boss but Something's Off. in the game people often (notably huey and the boss' ai) don't recognize him as big boss for a few seconds. an imperfect replica because you cannot get that close with plastic surgery. i made the fat distribution on his neck a bit different from bibo's because i imagine the way that the human body configures itself is hard to change. if you noticed the little snake-tongue-shaped-hair-doohickeys, he is the only one with a slightly different shape. it's a genetic thing, you wouldn't get it. just thought that was silly. his hair texture is different, too. can u tell i like him a lot. also, my favorite detail might be his different nose shape. they never got bibo's nose right i guess. in mgsv, he actually has a bit of a downturned nose, and i honestly don't think i captured that enough.

TIME FOR MY FAVORITE BOY. LOVE OF MY LIFE. HOLDER OF MY GENDER ENVY. solid snake :3

SNAVID! the most obvious difference here is his nose. he broke it as a kid lol. i love headcanons. there's not as much to say about him as with venom, but i can say that he is incredibly handsome and i like him. i think he is cute. was he free yesterday? if so i would like to have dinner yesterday with him yesterday. well... i will say that out of this specific lineup i think he looks the most like good old dad. which is awful and i feel bad for him.

FINALLY: LIQUID!!!!!!!

i gave him his canonical sharp nose and high cheekbones! i based a lot of his features off how he looked as a kid so he really has little shit vibes about him. he also has thinner eyebrows, and i headcanon that he does them himself lol. he has less sideburny sideburns than his brother. his eyelids are also smaller. he also does look kinda like kaz so its plausible that he tricked dave! yippee! i also like drawing his hair. its such a great hairstyle. it reminds me of a lion's mane.

N E WAYS... i hope you enjoyed me rambling about giving these goobers a more realistic design for future reference. i like talking about this kind of stuff. life is so much better without same face syndrome.

#metal gear #metal gear solid #mgs #big boss #venom snake #solid snake #liquid snake #im going crazy

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erineas · 3 months

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Hey/

Did you see 6 skeletons 1 maid updated?

Thoughts?

I was saving this ask to make a little comic of how that last chapter felt but- lets say it didn't turn out how i wanted. Instead, i just dug out some of my old Maid-chan drawings and stared at them blankly for the next days.

I'm still particularly fixed on this one little page:

Mister Green was my absolute favorite and the only light i saw at the end of her tunnel. He was so kind and sweet, and pretty much the only one that treated her like a person (besides Yellow of course). When i first read this fic so many years ago i didn't trully realized the dark tone of this story but i still chose the only "healthy" option. I wanted MC to be happy and free, and oh how i wanted him to give her that. I held those drawings of him for years imagining a chapter where they would encounter again and that would drive her to a better ending (either skeletons overcoming their issues and treating her with respect or him taking her away).

But then this final chapter appeared and it was... a thing.

(Kinda spoilers for the babes that haven't read it)

First of all, I FINALLY GOT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED AFTER BEACH CHAPTERS OMG I NEEDED THAT

Second of all, it didn't look good at all and it was getting worse as I read. But then good because it was a week alone for her to rest and Sans was eating with her?? But also that whole scene reminded me how bad her situation really was so it actually wasn't good at all.

And then the scene that broke me.

I was aware that I wanted her to flee before, but I never thought she could.

It was oddly satisfying, if not a bit anxiety inducing because of the thought that they would caught her eventually. As always.

But then Asgore, and Orange. And nothing...

I got mad that he found her. Which was a weird feeling since I remember liking him a lot. It felt to me like he ruined her good enough ending. But despite that, it makes sense it was him so I don't complain.

What crushed me though, wasn't that she couldn't say goodbye or that Sans got tired of trying to get her back. It was the fact the Gs didn't even try looking for her. They didn't even got mentioned. What happened there, I wonder. Didn't they like her? Care for her? Mister Green wrote her letters, of course he liked her. But then why...?

Suddenly he looked like a fairytale.

The ending was great, finally lending her the ability to choose. It made absolutely everything worth it and the way it was written made me feel like I do have a say in the matter. And for the first time, i didn't choose the skeletons.

I realized she could find her happy ending alone.

(My live reaction)

#Thank you for asking I'm still not over this fic but I'm so relieved we got some kind of closure yknow #Seeing maid-chan after so many years felt like meeting an old friend #and they summarize the hell they went through just to finish it with a “but I'm ok now”#I wanted to hug her so bad #I'm just glad she's free #I still love my skellies duh but I now recognize their highly toxic behavior #I still love Green I would redraw him but damn man where tf are you?!#I'm team Asgore and Chara now #Fuch them everyone else #5am talks #6s1m #That damn woman also had the EGGS to live off of moss and stream water wth

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pastadoughie · 3 months

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MY NAME IS SPELLED WITF AN E AND NOT AN A get it RIGHT!!

hai! im rowen (he/him) and i draw thingse soemtimze!! im a queer (trans, intersex, gay) 16 (5-1-07) yr old furry artist :3 u probably know my blog for drawing many many silly kitties and miscilanious creechers, but i do other things!

i do requests (no ocs or fandom shit, ONLY silly) and i take commisions (i am working on a website to organize all the prices and stuff, but for now, just dm me if youre intrested)

i do all my art on mspaint (win10 ver.) unless explicitly stated otherwise, i just use the default pencil tool on 4px (the largest default size setting) witch is a round brush with no antialiasing

i use a drawing tablet, the XP-Pen Deco 1 V2 (Celeste, He/Him), and an ASUS Harman/Kardon i7 14.5 In. laptop (Chelsea, She/Her)

my blog mostly runs on a queue, witch is very long and only goes onse a day, so sometimes extremeley old artwork gets posted. for this reason posts that are recently posted are not nessasarily recently drawn. furthermore, asks sometimes take an extremely long time to post after ive actually answered them, so please dont resubmit things. (+ i have far too many askse to actually be able to answer them all. so asks that are very similar to things ive already answered, are extremely time consuming, or are just not that funny, are unlikely to ever be answered)

rebeast : is for reblogs of other peoples content

rowencatfanart : is for fanart people have made for me (if you make any please tag it as such, as well as mention me in the post)

the beast speaks : is for all my original text posts

retchid opinions : are for my own text posts where i actually say things of value and have an opinion on topics

screaming and scampering : is for when i say bullshit that doesnt matter

consulting thea council : is for polls of mine

rowens serious art : is for serious rendered art of mine

rowens liddol guys : is for sillies of all kinds that ive made

biblically accurate rowen : is for art of non-kitty me, for blacklisting purposes (i like to not be reminded i am a person when im scrolling thru my own blog) mspaint animations : for when i animate things on mspaint (onion skin is for cowards i let my heart guide me) rowens animatics : are for when i make, animatics, its really self explainatory. rowens advertising : is for when i advertise my products or twitch or commisions or whatever. for blacklisting purposes the mewsifixtion : is for when i give out easter eggs 2 ppl who send me asks. asks for this are currently CLOSED rowensumptions : are for when ppl send me headcannons they have abt me thru asks S teir wimpering : for the text postre ive made that r actualey funny rows gross old ort : for when i reblog old art of mine i tag all asks with the username of the person who asked them, so if u want to find a previous ask of yours i answered you can just search your own username i also try to tag asks i answer with the date of when they were sent to me, and the date i actually drew them, because the queue can make this confusing,,, i cant really retroactively see the send date of posts i made before this tagging change, so some we will simpley nevr know,,, dates are written in american date format. so month-day-year i always tag the software i use for each artwork, but its pretty much always MSPaint (Win10), though i occasionally do image editing in Asesprite

the gray and white kitty i draw most frequently is my catsona! he is not an oc and is specifically meant to represent me

i ask that you please do not use drawings of him as personal branding (such as pfps, banners, avatars, ect.)

the samething applies to my fursona, valentine, though his design changes too much to give an accurate ref for, i generally will specify in the tags

i am generally fine with people saying that my catsona is cute but please dont make any overly explicit comments about my fursona, or on my posts in general. i am a minor (i dont care if you say like, ouyhh bark bark i love men i get it hes meant to be attractive but use some common sense)

furthermore. for people who have blogs with alot of untagged sexually explicit content its best you dont interact with me, i have my age set properly, so i do not see sexual posts that are properly flagged, but if your posts ARENT flagged, and you interact WITH ME, then thats on YOU for exposing a minor for sexually explicit content

if you have minors DNI in your bio and make a whole song and dance abt how ggrrr!!! i block ageless blogs and minors!!! and then go and reblog my posts with sexual comments then thats on you. and not me.

i dont care that much frankly, about seeing joke posts abt penis or whatever, but there is a line. and if you are trying to curate a specifically adult space on your blog then you also have to put in the work to not intentionally loop minors into that

also. please do not act overly familiar with me, im a 16 yr old on the internet and not your friend. and while i am not opposed to meeting people on tumblr, there is a line and you need to actually build some kind of relationship with me before youre allowed to act like that.

u can find me on tumblr (duh) : @pastadoughie : my main @leftoverdough : is my reblog sideblog @scungledfiles : is the web graphics blog i run w/ my friend (@soggiedsocks) (though we havent been as active as of late cuz mentol ealness + i have been fopcusing moar on this blog) youtube : pastadoughie (i havent posted in 6 months ouhm, oops,) twitch : pastadoughie DA : pastadough (this is very very dead and i dont really indend on using it more unless massive changes r made 2 DA,, i keep it here for archival purposes though) etsy : scungledthings (i also share this with @soggiedsocks, when contacting my shop you will most likely be talking to him and not me.) if you would like to contact me FOR COMMISIONS directly you can also do so discord : pastadough email : [email protected] PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ONLY BUISNESS INQUIRIES!! stupid shit should be sent via ask or tumblr dm. DO NOT FLOOD MY EMAIL!! i WILL block you!! --- Last Updated : 4-14-2024

#new pinned post verey kewl #the beast speaks #rowens liddol guys

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xxfrankiesteinksxx · 22 days

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small details in the dnpc video no one is mentioning

okay, look, i'm gonna admit it, i'm a game/film theory girly and a whore for lore, so i pick at details i shouldn't be picking at, so here's some things i see in the video that i don't see being mentioned in theories/analyses. also keep in mind my brain consists of a single cell encapsulated in aspic (i know what the actual deeper meaning is this is just a bit of fun for me)

the thing underneath the piano - the camera falls off the piano in one scene and something (i still cant figure out what exactly it might be) is visible, oddly clear-looking for something underneath a broken piano in shoddy lighting (actually looking at it again it might be a corpse, is it possibly phil's old body?)

dan telling phil not to film him drawing the sigils but phil still filming - you might be able to also throw in the part where phil screams "NO" when the camera's on him sitting in the corner; they don't seem to want things to be filmed but it feels like they're obligated to record everything to some extent

phil's very explicit control over dan - this is to the point where he even has to tell dan what and what isn't food, and takes away water privileges for some reason (btw this is your reminder to drink some water) and overall very demanding tone when instructing him

SOFT AND NEAT - there's a lot of reinforcement of this, its clearly a joke but i'm overanalytical and will blatantly ignore this. there's heavy hesitation with any sharp object around them (when dan has to cut his hand, kill phil, take out phil's heart, mentioning razor blades when using the shaving foam)

dan still primarily uses his left hand - people have mentioned how he's been "fixed" but him using his right hand seems to be performative since he pours most things, mixes with his left hand, and even primarily uses his left hand to spread the blood (plus he never sacrificed himself unlike phil who seems to have died in potato stamps and been resurrected with perfect vision) there's also old superstitions that being left-handed means you're somehow cursed by/connected to satan, speaking of which...

dan has a much better connection and the ability to communicate directly with Him - he seems to be a conduit, possibly being used by phil to properly perform anything (which also probably helped with his resurrection and eyesight improvement), he has uncontrollable actions from time to time

the sigils themselves - what do they all mean? what could they mean in a bigger, symbolic context? anyone that understands them pls explain to my aspic brain

the entire place fucking burns down after the ritual is complete and they're embraced by Him - it's clear at least to me that the shed is set on fire at the end of the video, cutting off further possible footage

dan doesn't put blood on phil's forehead during the ritual - might've just been a slipup during filming but we also dont see the blood dan put on his own forehead once he arrives and theyre all standing up in the pentagram

also just a couple fun facts:

the number on the case file when converted to corresponding letters of the alphabet spell out "satan"

what dan says in his reversed clip is just "thanks!", nothing is really said in the reversed clip of phil opening the shed door its juts kinda a random noise someone made

Aaaaand some misc nonsense crackpot theories/ideas/thoughts/brain vomit that my brain keeps me awake at night with (optional reading):

if the demon taking them at the end is actually baphomet and not just some generalized idea of satan, then "mother" could be another way to refer to "him" since baphomet is portrayed as having both female and male characteristics (bobs n pennies)

personally this is scarier/more unnerving than the actual blair witch project for some reason

my bathroom sink is the one sink you cant ship

i want a dapc for those dolls they hung everywhere

is cataloguing all of the ritual setup part of the craft channel's purpose?

what was the reason for summoning him? did they bring him to our plane of existence to just let him absorb these two brink-of-twinks and then use their gay power to torment the straights?

oh that rope is just his belt thing not rope tying dip and pip together

i think this is a good wrap-up idk what they could do in a part 5 to conclude things better

#this is what keeps me up at night #that and the 4 hour long naps i take at 5pm every day #now i wanna start a collector doll brand called brink-of-twink #featuring fun accessories like texts to his sugar daddy and mortgage paperwork #theres more but this is rly fkn long lol #dan and phil #dan and phil crafts #danandphil #daniel howell #dan howell #phil lester #amazingphil #phandom #dnp crafts #dnp

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justagalwhowrites · 2 months

Text

Halcyon - Ch. 7: It'll Be Nice to Feel Wanted for a Change

You and Joel decide your next steps. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 6, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

^I keep using Pedro gifs instead of Joel gifs because Joel is such a baby in this fic I'm sorry 😭

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Diet culture type language. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 7.3K

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“Told you, I have connections.”

Joel rolled his eyes and took a sip of his coffee, watching as the kids on the soccer field changed directions.

“Still feel like business school is overkill,” he said, putting the travel mug in the cupholder of his folding chair. “Especially at this point… GET ‘EM BABY GIRL!”

Sarah stole the ball from a girl on the other team and dodged another girl before starting to charge up field, a serious look on her face.

“GO SARAH!” You jumped up and screamed, cupping your hands around your mouth. Sarah got pinned down and looked around before passing the ball, sending the it between two defenders to another player. Her teammate got the ball and sent it careening toward the goal before the other team could change direction. It sailed in and Joel leapt to his feet, the two of you jumping and clapping. “HECK YEAH!”

Sarah beamed at the two of you before she went to hug the girl who scored. You and Joel sat back down as play started back up. The coffee had spilled some in his excitement, the fabric arm of the chair wet.

“Now is the time to do the business school thing,” you said as you leaned forward on your thighs, watching the game intently, your hands clasped together and tucked between your knees. “And besides, it’s not actual business school. It’s… business school light. Enough to help you draw up a business plan and that kind of shi…stuff. The kind of stuff that you’ll need if you need to take out money from the bank to get started.”

Joel sighed. He knew you were right, he just wasn’t crazy about the idea.

After you’d had dinner - and nearly devolved into an argument that, in hindsight, Joel really was not ready to have no matter how hard he was pushing for it - the two of you had gone back and forth about what to do next.

Your call shouldn’t have surprised him. You’d always been an academic sort of person, the fact that you’d gotten into some fancy college had come as no surprise to Joel. Of course your first idea involved formal education.

You reached out to a friend of a friend at the business school and got some of his recorded lectures from the era of virtual classes during COVID. He was happy to share them once you explained it, compiling some lectures, notes and guides for Joel to use.

Joel felt bad about putting some stranger out like that but you said he was happy to do it in exchange for an autographed copy of your book.

“I know, it’s crazy,” you’d teased when he looked at you in disbelief. “Should have let me draw on your face that one time, think of how valuable it’d be now…”

Joel just snorted and shook his head.

“Get in there!”

You were on your feet again, watching as Sarah tackled the ball away from another girl. You screamed and jumped when she succeeded and Sarah smiled as she clambered back to her feet.

“Good job, kiddo!” Joel called, still seated but smiling. You got really into Sarah’s games, Joel had quickly learned. He wasn’t about to admit it to you, but he loved it. It reminded him of when you were both in high school, when you’d watch from the front row of the stands during football games, screaming so loud that he could hear you over everyone else at the game. You drew his number on your cheek and bleached it onto a t-shirt. You’d even made Tommy a matching one, something the 10-year-old had taken as a profession of undying love and devotion back then.

The next time you were at the house after giving him the shirt, Tommy sauntered through the kitchen where you and Joel were having a snack, topless, drenched in cologne and hair slicked back. Joel watched you try not to laugh as Tommy leaned on the table in front of you, giving you a cocky smile.

“Hey Goldie,” he said, his voice artificially deep. Joel choked on his Coke and covered it with a cough. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Really?” You asked, brows raised. “Even though I’m here every Saturday afternoon?”

His smile faltered.

“Well… uh…” his eyes darted to Joel, like he was looking for help. Joel just held up his hands. “Just… didn’t expect you to be here looking so good.”

“Oh,” Joel could see the edges of your lips pulling up. “So I don’t normally look good? Darn…”

“No, wait…” he stood up from the table, eyes darting to Joel again. “I don’t… you…”

“Don’t you have a matchbox car to crash or something?” Joel asked. “Stop tryin’ to pick up my girl, little man.”

“Fuck off,” Tommy muttered before stomping back off toward his room.

“I’ll tell mom you said that,” Joel leaned forward and watched his little brother go.

“So I’m your girl now?” You teased once he was out of ear shot. “News to me. And be nice to him, he’s just a kid and he’s a sweetheart.”

“He thinks he’s Don Juanito is what he is,” Joel muttered, sitting back in his seat and taking a sip of his Coke. “You being my girl might be the only way he leaves you alone.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled a little anyway.

“All this trouble because I wanted to support my best friend as he fucked up in the red zone…”

“I’ll tell my mom on your language, too,” he said. “Don’t think she won’t smack you upside your head just because she didn’t birth you. You’re her favorite kid, but don’t push it.”

Tommy had, thankfully, gotten over his crush on you. A fact that Joel was endlessly thankful for now that his part in helping you complete your list included finding you a fucking date.

There was a guy on his team at work he thought would at least be something besides a total waste of time. Blake was a decent man, one of the few on the site who didn’t say disgusting shit about women the second they believed they were among other assholes who thought the same way. Joel had caught him reading once on his lunch break, something that he was sure would be important to you. You’d want someone who read. Joel should read more.

Blake, Joel thought, would be a decent enough guy to set you up with. Not good enough for you - no one was good enough for you - but at least a damn improvement over fucking Brad.

He just hoped it wouldn’t stick.

Not that he wanted you to be alone. He didn’t. He wanted you to be happy. More than almost anything else he wanted you to be happy. He wanted you to have whatever it took to make that happen. But he wasn’t sure how he’d get past working with someone he knew got to kiss you, touch you, fuck you. He’d hear about dates with you and things you enjoyed with a boyfriend and not just your friend. He’d have to hear all about what someone else was doing for you because he couldn’t.

Which was fine. Should be fine. You were his friend, you’d always been his friend. He could love you as a friend, he did love you as a friend, he could get past the other shit. He could.

And if Blake ever decided to try to talk about you the way some of the other assholes they worked with talked about their girlfriends then, well, at least Joel could fucking deck him for it.

“She’s killing it out there,” you settled back into your folding chair and glanced over at Joel.

“She always does,” Joel nodded. “She’s got skills, that girl.”

“She seems to really like it, too,” you said, eyes back on Sarah. “Which is the important thing. If she’s good enough, she could get scholarships and shit. But that really only matters if she also likes it, there’s no use in her being miserable because of the demands of being a student athlete because she happens to be good a sport she doesn’t enjoy…”

“She loves it,” Joel said. “And, honestly, I’m hopin’ that sticks and that she can get a scholarship, lord knows I can’t afford to shell out for college…”

“You can’t now,” you corrected him good naturedly. “But once you become Joel Miller: Entrepreneur and man about town, that’s another story.”

Joel scoffed.

“What?” You asked.

“You’ve just got a lot more faith in me than I do.”

“Aren’t I supposed to?” You asked, looking at him again. “You’re my person so that’s part of my my job. Recognizing your potential.”

“See, just the fact that you think I have potential to recognize…”

“Oh shut up,” you swatted his arm and he laughed a little, watching you watch his daughter run back up the field.

No, Blake didn’t deserve you. No one did. Least of all Joel.

Sarah’s team won the game and she was beaming when she ran over to you and Joel after the post-game huddle.

“Did you see that one steal I did?” She asked, leaning between the front seats of the truck. “It was so cool, I almost missed it but then I got it to Sophie and she was able to score and it was so COOL!”

“Seatbelt,” Joel said. Sarah rolled her eyes but flopped back into her seat and buckled up, anyway. “Thank you. And yes, we saw, Baby Girl! You kicked ass out there.”

“Can ass kickers pick lunch?” She asked.

“Ass kickers can pick lunch,” Joel said. “But ass kickers can’t say ass until they’re at least 13, sorry kiddo.”

“Aw man,” she huffed but then smiled. “I’m gonna swear so much on my 13th birthday…”

“Yeah I bet you are,” he shook is head and caught you trying not to laugh out of the corner of his eye. “Alright, kiddo, where for lunch?”

Joel watched her in the rearview mirror, a serious look on her face as she considered her options.

“Dairy Queen,” she said eventually, nodding seriously. “Because then I can get a Blizzard.”

“Whatever the ass kicker demands,” Joel said.

Sarah ordered a burger with her blizzard before going to find a table. Joel got the steak fingers and a shake and you just stood there, staring up at the menu board with a slight frown on your face.

“What?” Joel asked. “C’mon, it’s a limited menu, can’t be that hard.”

“It’s just been forever since I’ve been to a DQ,” you said absently. “Not sure what to really get…”

“Goldie,” he said, voice serious. You looked at him, frowning. “We both know what you get at Dairy Queen.”

“Yeah, when I was a teenager,” you looked back up at the menu. “Little different now…”

“Not gonna find a salad up there,” he said.

“Yeah, but…”

“Remember how the number one thing on your list was finalize your divorce?” He asked. You looked at him again, brows raised. “Well, this is one part of that you can control. You can ditch all the stupid shit that asshole put in your head, starting with the idea that you can’t get chicken fingers every once in a while.”

He didn’t give you a chance to reply, instead looking to the cashier.

“She’ll do the chicken fingers basket,” Joel said. “With fries. And a medium Reese’s Blizzard.”

“Small,” you corrected him.

“Medium,” he said, looking over at you. “Because we both know I want to eat half of it.”

You laughed a little.

“Medium,” you said.

“Alright,” he said, going to pay.

When the food came out, he took one of your chicken fingers and your eyes went wide.

“Hey!”

“Oh sit tight,” he rolled his eyes and dropped one of his steak fingers in your basket.

“What makes you think I want one of your steak fingers?” You asked, incredulous.

“You always want one of my steak fingers,” he said. “Every time.”

You glared at him for a second.

“Shut up.”

Joel laughed before dropping an onion ring in your basket and swiping a few fries.

“So you guys really hung out all the time before, huh?” Sarah said, eating a fry and watching the two of you from across the table.

“We did,” you smiled at Joel before looking back at Sarah. “We basically lived together, probably drove our moms crazy…”

“Your mom, maybe,” Joel teased. “Mine loved havin’ you around all the time. Said you were a good influence.”

“Because I was,” you teased back.

“So,” Sarah watched you both closely. “Why didn’t I meet you until now? I mean, I met other friends of my dad’s. Did you guys have a fight or something?”

The two of you looked at each other for a second. How the fuck was Joel supposed to explain this to his kid? Yeah, we were friends, and then the two of us decided to have sex and then just stop talking for a decade and a half? Not quite age appropriate.

“Well,” you said, dipping one of your fries in your Blizzard before popping it in your mouth.

“You’re so gross,” Joel said and you rolled your eyes and elbowed him in the side.

“Shove it,” you smiled a little and looked back to Sarah. “We finished high school and I had to move for college and we just kind of stopped talking quite as much, we didn’t do a great job of keeping in touch. We were busy, it just kind of happens when you’re a grown up.”

Sarah crinkled her nose.

“That’s dumb,” she said.

“You’re right,” you smiled a little, looking at Joel. “But adults do dumb things sometimes.”

Sarah nodded slowly, taking a fry and dipping it in her Oreo Blizzard before taking a hesitant bite and chewing thoughtfully. She frowned for a moment before her eyes lit up and she dipped the fry again.

Joel groaned.

“Not you, too…”

“Just gotta get on the French fries in ice cream train, Miller,” you smiled smugly. “Sweet, savory? It’s the best.”

“She’s right, Dad,” Sarah said, dipping another fry. “This is better than ketchup.”

“I’m surrounded by weirdos,” Joel muttered but he couldn’t help smiling a little to himself, watching you and his daughter together, a strange pull at the base of his chest at the sight. This, he thought, was how it was supposed to be. You were meant to be with the two of them, it was obvious. It was almost strange, how clearly he fit with you. He hadn’t felt like there was something distinctly missing over the last decade. He’d gone about his life, raising his daughter, trying to get ahead at work. He bought a house, kept his brother’s nose clean, buried his mother. There had been no distinct sense of absence. He thought of you often - every day, really - and it hurt but it was a dulled pain, a longing for what he had before. He hadn’t known what he’d really been missing, the way things would be with you at the stage of life you were both in now.

But now that he had you here, he wondered how he hadn’t noticed this gaping hole at the center of his reality before. There would be no excising you from him now, it wouldn’t work, the ragged edges of your absence would be too clear in everything he did.

He’d just have to do whatever it took to keep you in his life. Even if that meant setting you up with some guy from work.

“So Sarah,” you said, ripping your chicken finger in half and reaching over to dip it in the gravy in Joel’s basket.

“Hey!”

You ignored him.

“Do you think you can do me a favor?” You continued, eating the chicken tender.

“Sure,” she shrugged. “What do you need?”

“Well,” you said, brushing your hands free of crumbs before taking a sip of your drink. “I was thinking about getting a cat but I have no idea how to pick a cat. Do you think you could come with me to the shelter and help me look? Just make sure I’m finding the right one?”

Her eyes lit up and she looked at Joel.

“Can I Dad?” She begged. “Please? I love cats, they’re so cute, and…”

Joel laughed, draping his arm over the bench behind you. You’d already talked with him about this, seeing if Sarah wanted to go to the animal shelter this afternoon. He knew she’d love it.

“Well,” he sighed, pretending to consider it. “If you promise to behave this week…”

“I will!”

“And do all your homework the first time I ask,” he said.

“Deal!”

“Then alright,” he conceded. “We can go with Aunt Goldie to pick a cat.”

“Yes!” She punched the air in victory and Joel smiled and shook his head, settling back in the booth with his shake in his hand.

The three of you went back to Joel’s and gave Sarah a chance to get cleaned up before heading to the shelter to look at cats. Sarah took over the radio in the car and insisted on playing Taylor Swift and you learned the chorus to one of the songs she was belting in the back seat, singing along the last time through, windows rolled down, your hand tapping out the rhythm of the song on the outside of the door.

“So what kind of cat do you want?” Sarah asked, turning to face you and Joel as she walked backwards down the row of cages.

“I don’t really know,” you shrugged. “Never really had a pet. One that wants to sit on my lap and purr?”

“See what not having a pet as a kid does to you, Dad?” Sarah said, looking at Joel with wide eyes. “Leaves you totally unprepared for picking a pet later in life. I should get a cat, too, while we’re here.”

“No,” he said. “Watch where you’re walkin’.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically but obeyed, leading the way through the cages.

“Oh, look at this one!” She stopped in front of a cage and laced her fingers through the bars, a black and white cat on the other side of it watching her from the back corner. “She’s so pretty!”

Joel stood at your back as you paused, looking at the cat for a moment.

“She is pretty,” you said. “But I want to see all of them first before I see if there are any we want to really meet.”

Sarah stopped outside of a gray and white tabby’s cage, the cat rubbing its face over the bars.

“Aw!” She reached a finger out and brushed along its cheek. “She’s so cute! And she seems so sweet!”

“She does,” you agreed, reaching around Sarah to give the cat a haphazard pet.

“Dad!” Sarah looked back over her shoulder at him. “Her name is Swiftie! She’s perfect!”

“We’re not here for us, Baby Girl,” Joel said. “C’mon, more cats to see, don’t get attached.”

“Well we have to meet that one now,” you said, looking at Joel and very clearly trying not to smile. “It’s required.”

“It’s really not,” he replied. “God, you’re such a bad influence…”

“Nah,” you replied. “I’m just always right, you should get used to it.”

You found another cat you really wanted to meet, an orange striped one who stood on his hind legs in his cage and reached a paw through the bars while meowing loudly for attention.

“Alright, Baby Girl,” Joel sighed, hands in his pockets. “Why don’t you go find someone who works here, see if we can meet some of these guys…”

She squealed before running out to find someone, Joel watching her go before turning his attention back to you.

“You’re never gonna have another moment’s peace with that thing in your house,” he said, watching as you reached your fingers through the bars and scratched its head as it purred loudly, arching into your touch.

“That’s alright,” you smiled, watching the cat. “It’ll be nice to feel wanted for a change. Totally worth it.”

Joel just looked at you for a moment, an odd twinge in him. Maybe you were lonelier than he realized. Maybe things had been worse with your fucking ex than he’d known. Maybe you didn’t understand that he wanted you. In so many fucking ways, he wanted you.

He just had no idea how to say that to you, not without fucking up everything else.

“Hi there,” a woman with a name tag walked up, Sarah at her side, before Joel had a chance to say anything at all. “I hear you want to see some cats?”

You told her the ones you wanted to see and the woman led you to a small room with a bench and some cat toys before going to get the first cat.

Joel should really have known what was going to happen after that. The three of you settled on the floor, you and Joel sitting beside each other, backs against the cinderblock wall, letting cats climb over your legs and throwing little bell-filled balls for them to chase as Sarah pulled a feather on a string across the floor. You were already attached to the orange cat but Sarah was obviously in love with the gray one. Joel sighed, leaning his head back against the wall, watching as his daughter held the little cat on her lap, talking to it all soft and gentle.

“I really should’ve known better than to do this,” he muttered and you laughed a little, leaning your head on his shoulder and watching Sarah, too. “Jesus…”

“At least it’s a cat and not a dog,” you patted his thigh twice before letting your hand rest there near his knee. His heart beat faster. “Could be worse.”

“So,” the woman came back in, carefully closing the door before the cat on Sarah’s lap could escape. But it didn’t look like there was any risk of it, the little thing seemingly content to stay there for the rest of time. “What are we thinking?”

“Please, Dad?” Sarah looked at him, her eyes so wide. “I’ll do all the work, I promise. I’ll clean the litter box every day and I’ll feed her and play with her and…”

Joel sighed.

“You’d gotta actually do it, Baby Girl,” he said. “I mean it.”

“I will!” She said, holding the cat close. “I promise!”

He sighed again.

“Alright, we’ll take that one…”

“Fantastic,” the woman smiled. “I’ll start the paperwork…”

“Oh, and I’m going to get Garfield, the orange one,” you said as she turned to leave. “But I’ll be changing his name…”

“That’s great,” she said. “But we will have to check and make sure the cats are compatible before we send you home with two…”

“No,” you laughed. “No, sorry, no, we don’t live together. He’ll be coming with me and this one will be going with them.”

“Oh!” She laughed back. “I’m so sorry, I just thought you two were married. I’ll get started on the paperwork for both, I’ll be right back.”

Joel watched the woman go and glanced at Sarah to make sure she was still totally absorbed with the cat on her lap before lowering his voice.

“Could have denied that a little harder, I think…”

He practically heard you roll your eyes.

“What, did you want to see if we could save on adoption fees by filling out one set of paperwork?” You asked.

“Always said we’d make good roommates,” he replied. “Seems a good a reason as any.”

You scoffed.

“Yeah, sure,” you said.

“What?” He said, turning his head just enough to see you, still leaning against him. “I’m serious. You really tellin’ me that the idea of living with me is that terrifying?”

“The inevitable fallout is terrifying, yeah,” you said.

“Here we go,” the woman came back in with two clipboards and you lifted your head from Joel’s shoulder. “Once you fill this out and pay your deposit, we can run a few checks and you can come back in a few days for your new best friends!”

“Ah, the truth comes out,” Joel smirked a little as he started completing the paperwork. “You were looking to replace me the whole time…”

“Well clearly yes,” you said absently, working on your own documents. “Furry, loud, opinionated… You’re basically twins, why do I need you to keep coming over when I’ll have Puck?”

“Puck?” Joel frowned. “Like hockey puck?”

“Puck like the fairy from Midsummer,” you replied. Joel must have still looked confused because when you looked over at him, you rolled your eyes. “The mischievous one from Midsummer Night’s Dream? The Shakespeare play? I know you read it, we had to read it sophomore year…”

“C’mon Dad,” Sarah looked up from the cat in her lap. “Even I know that one.”

“Alright, well,” Joel said. “You two are the smartest people I know, not fair to judge me by that standard…”

Joel caught a glimpse of you smiling out of the corner of his eye as he finished the paperwork.

***

“I have a question for you.”

You opened your eyes to see Joel looking down to you, your head in his lap, his thumb brushing your temple in a soothing rhythm. It was late. Sarah had gone to bed hours before, worn out after her game and suckering her dad into adopting a cat and going to Target to pick out every toy under the sun for her new pet and yours. You were pretty sure you weren’t going home that night, too comfortable in your position against Joel.

“No,” you said, closing your eyes and settling into him and the couch again. “I can’t convince Sarah to give up the cat. My position as the cool aunt is too tenuous, I’m going to side exclusively with Sarah in all conflicts for the foreseeable future…”

“I could just refuse to pick it up in a few days,” Joel mused. “Tell her the shelter denied our application because of my history as a cold hearted killer with no mercy.”

“Ah yes,” you smiled a little. “I forgot, Joel Miller, heartless killing machine.”

“Cold hearted,” he corrected. “Get it right.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry…”

“But no,” he continued. “Not what I was going to ask.”

You opened one eye, looking up at him, trying not to think about how soft his eyes were.

“Shoot,” you said, closing your eye again.

“Was thinking about the lists…” he trailed off.

“That wasn’t a question, Miller,” you said after a moment.

“I’m gettin’ there, don’t rush me, woman.”

You opened your eyes just enough to see him over you. His hand slipped around to cup the crown of your head. He was so handsome. There should be rules about that, there should be rules about men who are that beautiful. They should need licensing or something, they shouldn’t just be allowed to freely exist, endangering women everywhere.

You closed your eyes again.

“Take your time, Miller,” you said. “Not going anywhere.”

“Anyway,” he said and you could hear his eye roll. His thumb stroked your hair. “Both our lists have relationship shit on ‘em…”

His voice trailed off and your heart beat a little faster.

“Yes?” You said when he didn’t continue.

“Well, you were sayin’ you didn’t know how to do the whole… app thing.”

“Right…”

“What if…” he took a deep breath. “We tried going out together. You bring someone for me, I bring someone for you…”

Your breath hitched. You couldn’t help it. You knew the kind of relationship you had with Joel, the kind of relationship you’d always had with Joel. He’d made it perfectly clear that anything beyond that was totally out of the question for him and you’d accepted that. It had taken a long time - and a failed marriage - but you accepted it.

That didn’t make the concept of picking out a girlfriend for him sting any less.

“Just… then you don’t have to fuck around on apps,” he said quickly when you didn’t reply. “And I don’t have to waste my time on someone who wouldn’t work in a million years because you’re doing my thinking for me…”

“Instead of your dick?” You asked, opening your eyes. He smiled a little. Goddammit, him and his fucking dimple.

“Exactly,” he said, cocking his head so it was more in line with yours. He looked a little uncertain, his eyes searching yours. “So… what do you think?”

“Well,” you sighed. “Makes as much sense as anything else, I suppose…. When were you thinking?”

“I did say we should move ‘get laid’ to the top of your list,” he smirked a little. “So maybe next weekend?”

“Next weekend?” You sat up so fast that you almost smacked into his nose, your head spinning for a moment. Joel grabbed you to steady you as you twisted haphazardly to face him again, legs crossed in front of you. “Doesn’t that seem fast?”

He looked at you, puzzled, as he turned to face you, too.

“Goldie, you and fuckin’ Brad…”

“Gale.”

“…Split up a year ago. You gotta get back out there, it’s not fast.”

“No, I mean,” you closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before looking at him again. “Isn’t that a little fast to find someone for each other? I wouldn’t even know where to start…”

There was something about the sheepish look on his face that made your eyes narrow.

“What.”

“I… might have someone in mind for you already,” he flinched as he said it.

“Seriously?”

“Look, I just don’t want you dating some random asshole, alright?” He said. “He’s a good guy, think you’d have at least some shit in common, feels like I could trust him with you…”

“Gee, thanks,” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m being serious!” He looked down at his lap for a moment, absently picking at a seam on his couch. “I worry about you. I know shit’s dangerous for women, alright? Much rather you be out with someone who I know isn’t gonna hurt you than some guy I don’t know that I can trust…”

“Careful Miller,” you said wryly. “Someone might think you care about me or something.”

“Well, can’t have that now can we,” he looked up to meet your eyes again, small smile on his face. “I’m already worrying about this shit with Sarah and she’s years off from dating. Outside of her, you’re the most important person in the world to me. Want to know you’re OK out there when I’m not with you. And I’m assuming that you wouldn’t want me to tag along on every damn date you have…”

“Bold assumption.”

He glared at you.

“And this way I can know,” he said. “So yeah, alright, it’s crossed my mind.”

“Have you talked to this guy?” You asked. “He might want nothing to do with me.”

“I ain’t worried about that part,” he waved you off. “You’re you and he’s a smart guy, he’ll see what’s on the table. Much more worried about you conning someone into goin’ out with me…”

“Oh ha ha,” you rolled your eyes. “Because you’ve ever had a problem landing women…”

“The kind that stick?” He raised his brows. “Yeah, I have.”

“Fair enough,” you sighed, thinking about the few people you knew in Austin. There was an adjunct professor in your department who you thought might be Joel’s type that you wouldn’t vomit at the thought of seeing him with. “I think I have someone who will go for it. Next weekend?”

“Next weekend,” he confirmed and then laughed a little. “C’mon, don’t look so miserable about it. Whoever you end up with it’ll be better than fuckin’ Brad.”

“Gale,” you corrected again and then slumped forward until your forehead was pressed into Joel’s shoulder. He hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms gently around you. “This sucks. I got married so I wouldn’t have to date anymore. This is bullshit, I want a refund.”

He laughed once.

“Don’t think that’s how it works, Goldie,” he said, giving you a little squeeze. “Refund part, I mean.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I’d just like the best years of my life back.”

Joel was quiet for a moment, one hand finding a gentle, easy path over your back.

“Come on,” he said eventually. “You feel tired. Let’s get some sleep.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Assuming you mean here at this point?”

He scoffed.

“Ship sailed on you goin’ home hours ago,” he said. “I know who I’m dealing with.”

“Yeah yeah.”

You pulled away from him slowly and followed him up to his room. He loaned you a t-shirt and you got changed in his bathroom, taking your makeup off as best you could with the world’s most basic facial scrub and water before going to find him in bed. He was sitting up, his back against the headboard, scrolling through his phone. He glanced up at you for a moment when you came in and looked back at his phone for a fraction of a second before looking back at you again, his mouth open slightly.

You frowned.

“What?”

“Nothin’,” he said quickly, plugging his phone in and putting it face down on his nightstand. “Just forgot what shirt I gave you.”

You looked down at it, a faded shirt from the Houston Space Center. You frowned for a moment.

“Was this from when we went when we were kids?” You laughed. “On a field trip?”

“It is,” he said. “I wanted something that would fit as I was bulking up. Might have been a bit ambitious on the size…”

“You’ll have to model it for me sometime,” you said, climbing into bed next to him. He turned out the lamp and you heard him lay down. You gave him a second to adjust before you slipped against his side, his arm gong around you. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your forehead as your cheek found its place on his chest.

“You’re sure about this dating thing?” You asked quietly into the dark. He was so warm next to you. Warm and big and firm and safe. You tried not to think about how desperately you wanted him to say no, in fact, he wasn’t sure. That all he was sure of was that he wanted you.

He sighed instead.

“Think so,” he said.”You really that worried about it?”

You shrugged against him.

“Goldie.”

“Just…” you sighed. “I fucked up one marriage already. Why should I think I’ll get it right next time?”

“You realize that shit isn’t all on you, right?” He asked. “I don’t even know what happened but… I can just about promise that it’s not all on you. Be surprised if any of it is. You gotta stop letting that asshole determine your whole life, Goldie. He’s not worth it.”

“Yeah,” you said, moving closer to him. “You’re probably right.”

Joel made sure both of you were up before Sarah in the morning, sparing you both from any of her prying questions, and you spent the morning with them before going home again and trying to write but getting nowhere. You wasted hours on an outline this time before hating the story so much that it made your stomach clench to even look at it. It was so pathetic, a lost woman clinging to a past lover so hard that she couldn’t chart a path forward, and you couldn’t seem to chart a way toward a satisfying end. You started a fire in your fireplace for the first time just so you could burn the paper you’d wasted on this one. You had a glass of wine as you watched the flames devour it, ash floating to the hearth like snow, white and dead.

Part of it, you were sure, was the fact that you were dreading the idea of talking with Natalie, the adjunct you were going to try to set up with Joel. She’d like him. Of course she’d like him. It was Joel, everyone liked Joel, that was the problem. She’d like him and you’d have to sit there and watch him like her. Love her, eventually. If not her then someone else. You hadn’t been able to handle that when you were 18 and the fact that you were in your 30s now didn’t seem to have changed much. That’s part of why you’d done what you’d done after prom. A small part, perhaps, but a part.

But you were a grown up now, no longer a girl trying to find her way through the maze of the adult reality you found yourself thrust into. Things were going to be different this time.

They had to be.

May 2008, the Tuesday after prom

“Honey?”

You could hear the frown in your mom’s voice as you stumbled to your bedroom.

“That you?”

You caught yourself on the door frame. Your head was still spinning, why was it still spinning? It felt like you were going to throw up.

“Yeah,” you managed. “Just me.”

“You’re home early,” she said, her voice closer. “No Joel today?”

“No,” you said, hoping you sounded normal. “No Joel today.”

“Oh,” she sounded surprised. “Hungry? I can make you something…”

“I’m fine,” you said. “Just… tired. Going to lie down, I think.”

You didn’t wait for a response, just going in your room and closing the door behind you. Your walls were covered in movie posters, the faces of strangers you felt like you knew through their films an odd comfort as you sat on the edge of your bed.

It’s Goldie. I wish it were anyone else. It’d be better if it were anyone else.

That’s what he’d said. Anyone else. Anyone but you.

You weren’t sure how long you stared into space. How were you supposed to face him now? How were you supposed to go back to your life now?

You’d never been a particularly social person - writing all the time didn’t lend itself to vibrant friendships - but Joel had been your person for almost three years. He was who you had, who you told everything to, who you wanted to do everything with. Leaving him behind was going to be the hardest part of going away to school - so hard that part of you was still in denial that it would work that way at all. Part of you thought that he’d find some way to come with you over the summer and it’d be the two of you against the world the way it seemed like it always had been.

But he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want you.

I wish it were anyone else.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself, your voice wet.

Graduation was soon but it was still three weeks out. Three torturous weeks of being next to the person you loved most in the world when they didn’t love you, not really, not at all.

You weren’t sure how long you stared at the wall when it occurred to you.

You forced your body to move, joints stiff, and went to your computer, scrolling back through your email history to one from Dr. Gale Newton. An invitation to a summer creative writing workshop, one you’d decided to pass on because it meant leaving Joel months earlier. You hadn’t been ready for that before. You’d gone about checking with your counselor at school to see if it was even possible before deciding you weren’t ready for it.

You were ready now.

You called the number in his email signature and the phone rang twice before a woman answered.

“Dr. Newton’s office,” she said. “This is Florence.”

“Hi Florence,” you said, sniffing a bit, hoping it didn’t sound like you’d been crying. “Is… um… Is Dr. Newton available?”

“I can check,” she said. “It’s a bit late in the day… Can I ask who’s calling and what this is about?”

You gave her your name and told her that you were a candidate for the summer program.

“Ah, right,” she said. “You were the one denial. Can’t say I remember that happening before! Let me see… yes, one moment, I’ll transfer you back.”

It didn’t take long. Dr. Newton answered on the first ring, saying your name before you had a chance to say anything at all.

“I was wondering if I’d get to speak with you directly,” he said. “I’ve never had a student turn down the intensive before.”

“Yes, I’m sorry about that,” you said, voice trembling a little. “I thought I had some things I needed to finish up here before I moved but, as it turns out, I can come up sooner. I was wondering if my spot would still be available?”

“Well,” he sighed. You could hear the rustle of pages on his end. “The program did already start and you are the only incoming freshman I invited - your online portfolio was quite impressive - I wouldn’t want you to fall behind. How soon could you be here?”

“I could be there for the start of next week’s sessions,” you said. “And I can try to keep up with some work in the mean time if you want to email me some prompts or assignments…”

“No, no need for that,” he said. You heard the click of a mouse. “I’m going back over some of your work now, I think this will work fine for what we’re doing next week. There’s a short story here, Golden Boy, that we can workshop alongside the fresh pieces for the coming sessions.”

You quickly clicked over to the simple blog you’d made to showcase your writing for college applications. You scrolled past one of your senior portraits and bio at the top down to the work and found the story. You couldn’t remember if you’d put the whole piece up or just parts but it was the whole piece, one you’d written about Joel.

It’d be better if it were anyone else.

Your chest got tight.

“Perfect,” you said. “That’s great, thank you so, so much…”

“I hope to see some more dedication out of you when you arrive here,” he said, voice a little more stern now. “I reviewed your portfolio personally and you show a lot of promise but so does every student who comes through this program. If you’re not willing to make sacrifices and work for it, I can’t help you hone that raw skill into what it has the potential to become.”

“I understand,” you said quickly. “I’ll do whatever you want, whatever you think I need…”

“I’m willing to work with you one on one,” he said. “Get you caught up over the next few weeks, both because you missed some of the intensive but because you haven’t had any classes here yet. It’s going to be a lot of time and a lot of effort but I’m happy to put in the work if you’re willing to do the same. I expect you to be devoted to this program, do you think you can do that?”

“Yes sir,” you said. “Absolutely.”

“Good girl,” he said. “I’ll email you my personal cell phone number, call me there when you get to town. I’ll make sure you get set up in your dorm and we can get to work. Sound good?”

“Yes,” you said, your eyes falling on a picture of you and Joel laughing on his couch that glared at you from its place next to your computer monitor. You turned it to face the wall. “Yes it does.”

Next Chapter

A/N: So we now know at least SOME of Bambi's side of the story. Not the whole of it yet but some!

What do you think? Teenaged overreaction? Totally makes sense? Neither? Both?

Also... I hope you caught that Gale had a picture of her before he met her and picked up on how much he'd selected her to be a pupil of particular interest from the get go. He's so slimy. Or, I hope he comes off that way, anyway. He's slimy in my head, at least!

Thank you, as always, for reading. I hope you're enjoying the ride as Joel and Goldie navigate their tangled friendship!

Love you!!!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #slow burn #friends to lovers #halcyon

94 notes · View notes

pearlywritings · 2 years

Text

The Music of the Night

synopsis: these are pretty much snippets with Genshin men that combine night and music in different forms, picturing sweet moments of your relationship with them.

pairing: Diluc, Kaeya, Capitano, Pierro, Zhongli, Venti, Dottore, Dainsleif, Ayato, Childe, Pantalone (separately) x reader

tw: fluff, some parts have small portion of hurt/comfort, weapons and sparring in Capitano's part, abyss beasts in Capitano's part

word count: 8k+ words in total

a/n: I love the Phantom of the Opera, bear with me

Diluc

Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation

Darkness stirs and wakes imagination

Silently the senses abandon their defenses…

Nimble fingers caress the white and black keys and draw an intricate melody from within the depths of an old instrument. Despite its age, the piano is always taken care of, sounding as clear as it did in its «youth»; your husband always makes sure to invite a professional monthly to tune it, knowing how much you like it. Probably this is one of the very few things that found its place in the Dawn Winery after he hastily got rid of his family mansion, and you are happy it did.

As the pads glide and press, you try to imagine young Diluc, playing it as a part of his home education. You wonder if he truly enjoyed it, or endured it because it was in his schedule. Even if it was the latter, knowing how skilled and talented the redhead is, you are sure, the melodies he performed were nothing but perfect. Nowadays the man rarely touches it, prefering to rather listen to you.

Now there is no one to listen - the maids and winery workers left long ago and the only person remaining is Adelinde, who is most likely sleeping in her room. It’s 3 a.m. after all, but tonight you can’t rest properly without your husband beside you.

A sigh escapes your lips, as you draw the music to an end, lingering just a little bit after the last bar’s duration ends. There is a soft shuffle when you rearrange the sheets to choose a new composition to play. It’s so comforting, you think, feeling the ink-covered pages under your fingertips - those must be from the times when Master Crepus’s son was just a boy, learning the wonders of music, and the thought fills you with warmth.

As you start the next melody you fail to notice the presence of another person in the room. Diluc has just returned home and, upon hearing the delicate sounds of an old piano, made his way to where he knew he’d find you. His beaked mask and black cloak are discarded, gloves joining them on the sofa soon after.

He doesn’t want to scare you, which might be a hard task, yet his hands brush against your shoulders in such a familiar manner, that you only barely shiver, almost missing a note, but relaxing right away.

“Hello, my love,” his voice murmurs next to your ear and then lips press to your temple. Hands slide down to your waist and with a small movement he urges you to move to one side of the piano stool. Effortlessly you do so, and in a moment his body slides next to yours.

“Allow me to take over the left hand,” he whispers and you nod. As your fingers leave the keyboard his take over almost immediately, accompanying the main melody of your right hand.

You let your head rest on his shoulder, free hand finding his and intertwining them. He is so warm and big, holding onto you tenderly but firmly, reminding you, he is here, and you have nothing to worry. You do not, not anymore at least, as you feel him relax next to you, taking down the walls he surely put once again before leaving your shared home and into the night.

“I thought you didn’t like playing,” he hums at your words, touching the keys expertly, maybe only a little bit stiffly.

“I don’t dislike it,” Diluc admits, “simply don’t have time. When you occupy the piano, I have no desire to disturb.”

“And what about now?” you ask, slowly playing the music quieter and quieter. The man notices the diminuendo in the sheets and starts doing the same.

“Do I disturb you?”

“No, not at all… Actually, I really like it.”

The final bar arrives just in time, and, pressing the last chord, Diluc turns to face you, vermillion gaze filled with love. You sure yours mirror just the same emotion, eyelashes fluttering when a small smile appears on his handsome face.

“Yeah… I like it too.”

Kaeya

Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor

Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender

Nearing the Knights of Favonius Headquarters you can clearly see that all the windows are dark, with the very few exceptions. Not surprised to see the light in Master Jean’s office you search for your lover’s higher and with a deep sigh don’t find it unlit. Well, seems it’s his place you are sleeping at tonight.

There is no one in the hallways and you practically tiptoe past Acting Grand Master's door, not wanting to disturb her with the taps of your soles against the tiled floor. The stairs are a safe place and you walk up as fast as you can, the next floor being your destination.

You don’t knock once in front of Kaeya’s office, quickly turning the knob and swinging it open. The man inside, slumped over his desk, quickly lifts his gaze, ready to dismiss whoever it can be, but turns surprised and the next second pleased when he notices you.

“Hello, snowflake,” his voice is hoarse, but with its usual flirting lilt. His whole posture changes, straightening up, shoulders broad and back a bit arched. Multiple cracks echo in a quiet room.

“Don’t tell me there was nothing, I heard that, Alberich,” you huff, closing the door and making your way to him. The man snorts in amusement, watching you with a star-marked eye. The quill is still held between his long ungloved fingers, and the chin is coming to rest on a palm of his free hand. He loves your voice so damn much, even if you scold him, it’s always music to his ears, and that he hears it on the night he thought he’d be alone and busy? How wonderful.

“What? I said nothing, my love, simply greeted you,” the smile on his lips is both playful and innocent, making you roll your eyes half-heartedly.

“Your back, Kaeya. It must be stiff as a rock, if your spine makes sounds like that,” you are now standing at his side, quickly scanning the table. There are two piles - a big and a very small, - and with relief you see how your lover grabs the paper he was writing on and places it on top of a big one.

“Mmm, maybe a little bit strained, nothing I can’t endu- ouch!” he hisses when you reach and carefully grab the skin near his nape between your thumb and forefinger. Well, if the slightest of pressing makes him jolt like that and give you a stinky eye, just how full of knots it is?

“Put your quill down and let’s go to your room. I am staying over.”

The Cavalry Captain looks at you disconently, but behind this mask you can see he is actually really excited. It’s cute how just one phrase, spoken with an edge of finality to it, makes him lose his composure on the inside. But Kaeya wouldn’t be Kaeya if he didn’t try to play hard to convince.

“I don’t know, love… I still have some papers to fulfill…”

“Kae, come on. You are clearly stressed and overworked. I worry about you,” the hand that remained at the nape of his nape gently slides down the expanse of his back, hidden behind nothing but his shirt and the corset of his high-waisted pants. “Think about the cuddles and kisses, and holding me close…” tempting is something you two are good at, and this is a fair offer the man would be an idiot to decline.

The Cryo user presses his body incredibly close to yours under the covers of his bed - not big enough to accommodate two adults properly, but doing two lovers a favor of a sweet proximity. Your fingers brush through his silky navy locks, massaging his scalp and neck as you softly hum a melody Kaeya is so familiar with. You sound so tender and he can’t help but rub his nose against your throat, feeling small vibrations within.

A giggle, then another one and many more as he litters your skin with small fleeting kisses. Moments like this he adores the most - together, alone, with nothing separating you and preventing him from letting go of his daytime worries and carefully crafted facade.

“Hum for me some more?” he quietly asks, eyes closed and lips lingering on your collarbone.

And send him on such a needed trip throughout the Dreamland? How can you possibly refuse.

Capitano

Turn your face away from the garish light of day

Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light

And listen to the music of the night

Metal clinks and clashes with ferocity no human can probably exude. Two silhouettes move in a thoroughly-calculated way with a speed that make them blur and sometimes mix into one big blot of black - darker than the color of the night. Eyes used to the darkness and ears trained to be a help not a bother stay focused on the opponent, trying to predict their actions and strike first to gain victory. One hand clenches around the handle of the sword, the other keeps the revolver charged. There are no bullets inside, of course - you don't want to wake the whole camp up (even though in any other situation using the real ones wouldn't be much of a problem). Instead the special training guns are loaded with paint capsuls to mark the place the person would be shot. And you've just felt one hit your cheek, a colorful blotch covering and a thick droplet rolling down your face. So much for not using a helmet, you roll metaphoric eyes at yourself and lunge forward, attempting to plunge the tip of the blade under his knee armor piece, only to be blocked and almost thrown backwards by the sheer force of his arm's push. Just in time the long body of your gun crashes in his, aimed at you, and both go flying - all by your own sheer strength.

"Ready to surrender, Capitano?" You smirk, shifting the blade more comfortably in your hand. Heated, you feel immense warmth under your armor and welcome the winter wind biting at your cheeks and nose. Well, maybe abandoning the helmet along with your military fur overcoat wasn't a bad idea.

The man before you doesn't even huff at your words, only raising his weapon for a new attack. His overcoat is lying somewhere with yours, leaving only his ink black armor and a dark void at the front of his helmet.

You share a few more blows before it's your weapon that falls out of your hand and disappears in a nearby snowbank. You raise your hands in surrender when the sharp tip is pressed against your throat, not against to draw blood, but quite enough to claim victory.

"3:1," you grin, readjusting your arms to stretch and pop a few bones. "Ah, what a night~ Blew the steam just right."

"You were furious," the Harbinger doesn't ask, he states the fact, bending down to fetch your weapon. You hum in acknowledgment, stepping aside to get the revolvers back.

"I am still a little bit. That ball we visited today…it annoyed me I had to be there as a guard and not as your partner, and then that human girl," you hiss between your teeth and for a moment your voice shifted to something more monstrous, "dared to try and throw herself at you. You are mine."

You hand the guns over to Capitano, which he takes to inspect. You use that pause to glance at the moon and the starless sky, happily accepting the darkness around you. You loved nights, especially since it was the time when you and your lover could finally be alone. He once apologized for having so little time during the day, but once reassured you don't mind, being a busy warrior yourself, he didn't bring it up anymore.

"Then I find it strange you didn't try to duel her."

"And kill her on the spot? While I don't mind, the paperwork and Lord Pierro's notations later would've been annoying. That's why I love being on a battlefield more. I know you are nearby and we are basically doing the same thing."

Capitano has already put all the weapons somewhere and is now standing directly in front of you, his full attention taken by you and you alone. His big armory clawed hand easily wraps around your waist while the other cups your face.

"Why do you keep insisting on such a small form?" He rumbles in a low voice, but not annoyed, there is actually a hint of wonder in his voice.

"It's easy to seem normal to anyone else this way. After all, we wouldn't want others to know what we are, right? Besides, it's small in comparison to you, actually it is an average human height."

There is a deep growl coming from the depth of his chest and you respond in the very same way. In the light of the day you couldn't let yourselves slip and show affection in the way your nature tells you to, only if on a battlefield, where the steel blades dance and lead bullets sing, where anyone would excuse your roars as the commanding war cries and think nothing of your ability to tear an enemy of the size of a Mitachurl in half with your bare hands.

But under the dark sky you could be honest with the beasts you two are and finally live a little, not worrying about a thing.

Pierro

Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams

Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before

Snezhnaya is beautiful. Its architecture, its traditions and culture, its people, who endure the cold, but manage to stay warm… And the snow - that looks like a white fur blanket during the day and gleams magically in the lantern light at night.

It’s snowing. Tiny, intricate snowflakes are whirling as they fall, landing on your hair, on your lashes, on your extended hand. You think it's lovely, feeling them melt on your palm, losing their unique designs and becoming nothing but water droplets.

It never snowed in Khaenri’ah.

The memories cause something deep inside you twinge, and the impulse is much harsher than the coldness of this snowy land biting at your skin. The pain of losing everything is too fresh, even if the whirlwind of next events made it hard to settle fully at its peak.

"You foregone your cape again" a heavy fur fabric envelops your shoulders in a warm embrace and two big gloved hands settle on top of them. You don't need to turn away to know it's [...].

Oh… There actually is no point of uttering his real name as he has abandoned it in favor of serving the Tsaritsa, of becoming the first Harbinger, of becoming Pierro, "The Jester".

If only everything was really that funny as his code name suggested.

"I am still not used to it…" you sigh, wrapping it around yourself tighter. It's been only some years, maybe decades?

Not enough to forget.

Your lover is silent behind you, only his fingers slightly flex on your shoulders. You know for him it's hard as well, so many nights one or both of you have shared the nightmares that reflected the horrendous reality of the past, so many nights have been spent in attempts to comfort, and the same amount passed with staying awake just to escape the images inevitably flashing before your eyes when heavy lids fluttered closed.

Immortality has its perks and for you one of them is needing sleep less. Besides, night is such a magic time, it's dark and soothing with stars shining and snow sparkling like precious gems. It's a pity to lose a sight like that to the dreams that carry nothing but despair.

"Don't you think the snowflakes sing?" You ask instead reaching a hand to place on top of his and gently squeeze his fingers. There is a hum revibraring in his chest and he redirects his gaze from your figure to the falling water crystals.

"Sing? Maybe dance would be a better word, my heart," what used to be a sweet nickname now carries a little bit of a literal meaning - after losing everything, even his heart, you became the one for him.

And he became the one for you.

"No, they most definitely sing. It's very subtle, but the melody is here. It's pure but with potential to be powerful like a pipe organ in that church we saw a couple of months ago," it was some kind of a ceremony you didn't actually attempt to remember, staying there just to be close to your lover.

Immortality brought an understanding: you don't have to care much for things, they'll happen either way and you'll continue living no matter if you remember them or not.

Pierro stays silent, only letting go of one shoulder to wrap his hand around your middle to bring you closer. Maybe the snow does sing, but he can't hear it. A heart that started to harden to accommodate this foreign land, this new life, couldn't feel the same way it did before. The man finds his thoughts to be swallowed by guilt that right now he can offer you just a piece of his heart, the one that managed to stay warm and loving for you. But you are content with just a part of his heart, and Pierro is glad yours hasn't been hurt as deeply as his. He made sure to prevent it for as long as possible.

So if you hear the snow sing? Then maybe this land accepted you and you accepted this life. Thus he can stop worrying about your sanity that much and start working on creating a perfect future for you two.

After all, when it comes to you that's all he is dreaming about.

Zhongli

Close your eyes; let your spirit start to soar

And you'll live as you've never lived before.

The myriads of lanterns light the streets of Liyue late in the evening and long into the night, as another part of this beautiful city's life begins. Some shops close, the others open their doors, offering the wonders one could enjoy at its fullest only during the dark time of the day, and the main square is as lively as it's under the beaming sun.

Zhongli has a small content smile playing on his lips, slowly making his way further into the brightly lit space. With the posture upright and calm ember eyes closely observing everything around he could've been thought to be in the middle of attending to some sort of task, but his relaxed shoulders and hands clasped behind his broad back give out that he is merely on a late night stroll, basking in the animosity of the nation he built with his own two hands, the ones hidden under long sleeves and custom-made gloves.

Ever since the Archon faked his own death and retired to live as a mortal he couldn't help but feel fascinated - while playing a big role in all of that himself, his people did and do bring their homeland to prosperity, growing and advancing on their own, and that brings the former god’s mind at peace.

He senses a presence nearby, approaching with no hurry in the steps. This one is comforting, doesn’t prompt him to be on guard, existing by his side for far longer than he can remember.

"Living your best life, my beloved?" There is a gentle hand placed on his elbow and the man doesn't need to turn his head to know who it is - the only being in this whole world that can send jolts of sweet electricity through his body, pumping his veins with pure excitement and making an old stone heart flutter and crumble, and all of that with a simple touch, with a mere voice.

"Why of course, my treasure," Zhongli breaks the lock of hands on his lower back and offers an arm for you to latch on. A bare palm slides in a gloved one, fingers interlacing, and his eyes for a moment glow when they are cast upon your figure, foregone your usual adeptus attire and changed to the traditional Liyue clothing. An ex-Archon lets a pleased rumble rise in his chest, when he guesses a golden dragon twisting in the pattern of the fine fabric, circling around your body as if enveloping you in a tight hold - not many Liyue citizens would be bold enough to wear something with the Rex Lapis's symbols on display. How fortunate you are his precious partner.

"Where do we take our date today?" You ask curiously as the two of you resume leisurely walking through the main artery of this ancient city. Your husband lets a low hum melt in the sounds of the night.

“I was thinking we could visit Heyu Tea House. Miss Yun Jin is performing tonight, and Master Liu Su promised me the brand-new program. I am always happy to hear your ideas out however.”

“It is your turn to choose the place for a date, remember?” You softly chuckle and Zhongli relishes in the sound. “Besides, I love your suggestion. Don’t you think this night was made to be basking in the music, savoring the finest teas?”

“Yes, I do, my gem,” and he loves nights like this, when one simply sits and enjoys the many intricate things Liyue has to offer in the company of your loved one.

In the past, when he was an Archon - a mighty and glorified being - he had hundreds of celebrations and festivals in his honor, where he’d hear mellifluous instruments play and melodious voices sing. Those festivities were huge and lavish, all to show the gratitude his people felt for the god who brought them peace and ruled the nation wisely. But now, closing his eyes and letting the noises of this city fill his very soul, he finally feels united with his people, as one of his people. And that’s the experience he hopes to prolong and share with you for far beyond the end of this night.

Venti

Softly, deftly music shall caress you

Hear it, feel it secretly possess you

Joyful giggles join in the song of strings, creating a mesmerizing melody, lighter and clearer than a morning breeze. Two souls unite and music flows, created by the spirits and carried by the winds.

A verse so long forgotten, but so familiar still, the one you both gave life to was flowing like a stream. The words got mixed and lost their rhyme, but in your hearts you still remember what feeling they made bloom and make bloom all the same.

"Oh wind, what you're searching for so high in the sky? Why are you running away from the limits of earth?"

You both never had any limits. Born as elemental beings, transformed into wind spirits, you and Venti had so much in common. With human disguises the bond only grew, and it doesn't ruin anything, even though some would say that it's strange to be bound in any way for the ones whose main goal is freedom.

"What can you tell, dear wind, about blazing songs, that belong to the lightnings, you love gliding among?"

Oh, you both have many stories to share. You love listening to his voice, just like now, in the middle of the night, under the massive oak tree, singing a song you two wrote thousands of years ago. The laughter doesn’t die as you trip over your words or the bard misses a note occasionally. Maybe it's the wine that mixed your senses and ability to do it properly, or you simply didn't care for the form it existed in… After all, it is the feelings that matter, and it gives you plenty.

"What do you see, dear wind, flying above mighty waves? What are you singing about, raising them high?"

Aaaah, that was so much fun in the old days… You remember making stupid competitions of whose wave would be higher or whose would last longer… It always ended with you both completely wet, which gave an opportunity for sweet intimacy while preening each other’s wings, something you both got used to share among yourselves only, that now you can’t imagine anyone else doing so. Come to think of it, you haven’t done any of those stupid competitions in a while… Maybe you are drunk enough for it now?

“What are you thinking of, my wind, soaring above the mountains, whistling between the gray rocks... Touch me the same."

Thin delicate fingers stop plucking at the lyre, drawing the chords and the trills. They find their place on your body, and you feel like in the middle of a whirlwind, swirling and floating and the world moves like you ride a carousel from Fountain. Kisses are intoxicating, touches are maddening and the grass beneath your bodies is heavenly soft. You lose yourselves to the symphony of hushed giggles and breathless pants, your hearts merge into the aria that sings praise to the feelings, and your ears are filled with nothing but the orchestra of nature.

You gaze at Venti from above and see stars dancing in his vibrant eyes. He tastes like wine, he smells like cecilias, he sounds like a never-ending melody that lured you in and made you stay. You are addicted to the music that the Anemo god is and he cherishes the notes you add to the ballad of his existence.

“We didn’t get to finish the song,” the bard murmurs, lashes fluttering when your lips touch his cheek.

“You really want to stop now for the sake of some song?” you tickle his side and the young-looking male squirms under you, sporting a wide grin.

“Hehe, not ‘some song’! It’s our song,” he murmurs and even in the dark you can swear there is pink dusting his cheeks. Who would’ve thought a wind can be so sentimental. The wind that gives birth to the thunders, raises the waves, the wind that destroys the rock - and that’s what’s its law. Forever frolicking like an invisible bird, piercing the bounds of worlds and times...

Oh… It seems you are just as sentimental.

Dottore

Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind

In this darkness which you know you can not fight

The darkness of the music of the night

You don’t knock, because you know he detests it. Actually, he hates it when someone walks into his working space without permission (with permission it’s the same, but he won’t threaten a person at least). You are different though - the most you’ll get from him is an annoyed roll of his eyes or a teeth-baring sneer. He won’t force you out though, maybe only warn you if some of his upcoming experiments are rather…bloody, so you can leave on your own if you desire.

Today it’s quiet in his laboratory and the Harbinger is nowhere to be seen. You don’t even entertain the possibility that he has already called it a night - with a shitty sleeping schedule like this it’s extremely unlikely. Besides, he wouldn’t have left the lights on and the door unlocked.

So you move further into the spacious room. There are tables and cabinets filled with notes, and viles, mechanical parts, and all kinds of medical and technical tools. You step over the wires and move carts aside, to not trip or bump, knowing the booming laughter Dottore will not hold back if he sees you not being careful.

What is it?

You can swear you hear a distinct melody playing on your left. Only one way to find out, you think, and change the direction of your walking.

The closer you get, the more audible the sound is, until you spot a record player on a desk near the wall. It looks like something your partner would’ve created with his own hands and you step to it for a better observation. There is a smooth black record slowly spinning and you notice a couple more carelessly lying around the table surface. Before you can touch one though there is a rattling sound nearby, which makes you whip your head in search of its source.

Ah, of course, a part of a Ruin Guard hung on the chains that is being lifted in the air from its previous position barely above the floor. The higher it goes, the more of the scientist’s body behind it is revealed to you. No wonder you couldn’t spot him anywhere, the robot is huge.

"What are you doing here?" No greetings, as usual. Good to know that at least something doesn’t change in this world.

With a small smile you glance back at the record player and an idea appears in your head. Making the music a little bit louder you abandon the table and start walking towards him.

"Your insomnia is contagious,” catching the rhythm you sway a little, humming. Dottore doesn’t make a move in your direction, that is until you are just a couple of feet away. Then he makes just one step forward and allows you to comfortably bump into his body, resting his palms on your shoulders. Wow, he is in a good mood, it seems.The fact he didn't comment on how insomnia can't be contagious is a sign as it is too.

Maybe you can push your luck some more?

"Hey Dottore?" A hand reaches to his face and effortlessly lifts the mask off. Blood-red sharp eyes bore into you, but he doesn't make any attempts to stop you, only squinting.

"What? Spit it out."

"Dance with me?" You motion to the device behind you, that is playing the same melody, on a loop it seems. The man in front of you doesn't show any emotion, but by how he lowered his eyes a little you understand he is thinking about something.

“Alright," he suddenly says, taking a small step back and sliding his hands lower to your elbows.

“Alright?” you stare at him surprised. Usually he shooes you off with requests like that.

“Yes, alright, but only because my body could use some movement,” with a huff he places a firm grip on your waist, giving you an expectant look when you don't cooperate right away.

As you two are slowly swaying with your palms resting on his coat-covered shoulders, you think that nights are the best parts of the day. During the hours when the sun is up and shining brightly Dottore is scathing and exudes danger, but when the moon takes the sun's place in the sky, something in him calms down considerably and it’s much easier to deal with.

Yes, with this man nights are definitely so much better.

Dainsleif

Let your mind start a journey through a strange new world

Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before

Something tugs on a wearied heart when a tired gaze of a night sky drinks in the colorfully decorated streets. The flags are hanging on the ropes from one roof to another, fluttering from the briefest breath of wind. There are no symbols on the colorful fabric, but for a second an image of a royal emblem flushes, though it appears only in his memory. Pots at the front doors of the houses are full of bluish white flowers, but those are not inteyvats, though for a moment, a man without a nation is tricked to believe they are. There is a noise of hundreds of voices, but they speak of different things, even though Dainsleif wishes they were singing familiar praises.

“Looks like it’s a festival,” your voice awakens him and an involuntary exhale leaves his lungs. Eyes drop down, focusing on his gray pants, and he suddenly remembers where you two are and why. Clothes changed to something more regular upon your insistence (because his attire is really standing out in the crowd), he looked like a normal man, the only mystery left being his eyes and the mask he refused to take off for understandable reasons. You look pretty common too, with clothes covering all the indications of a hundreds of years old curse and looking around with a small portion of curiosity, which reminds him that you two have came in this city not for leisure.

“We are here to get the information. Remember it.”

“Sure thing, Captain, wouldn't dream of forgetting," there is a slight hint of sarcasm, but he ignores it, quite used to your ways.

"But, Captain…"

"Why do you keep calling me that? Weren't you the one telling me we should look and sound ordinarily?"

His gaze meets yours and a brow quirks in question at the wide grin and mischievous glint dancing in your eyes.

"Why of course, Dain, how could I forget?"

Ah, it seems he fell into your trap. Ever since your relationship got on a somewhat definite level of what you two are to each other - more than companions in misfortune, much more than travel companions - you made it your goal to trick him into acting or saying something that felt like stuff couples would do. At first he didn't pay much attention to it, simply humoring you occasionally, but then he started to enjoy these exact affections that made you two sound and look like a normal couple, even if the notion got lost in centuries bared of light and love.

"So, Dain, I was meaning to say that for today we could take a small break, don't you think? Just consider this: people are in the middle of celebrating whatever it is, it's unlikely they'll be willing to answer you Abyss-related questions."

"And what…do you propose?" Decades ago Dainsleif wouldn't indulge such thoughts of yours, but now, when you smile softly and slide your palm into his hand, his heart flutters and he doesn't mind hearing about taking a break. It's just a small one, it won't hurt.

"Just for today we could enjoy this festival. It doesn't look like it praises any god, so it can be entertaining.”

Besides you noticed how he was staring around, eyes clouded and thoughts overshadowed by the past. It's time to make new memories and the music you hear playing somewhere ahead of you can assist you in your deed.

The night falls upon the city, yet you go on. Dainsleif doesn't know how to dance, his training never required it, and all the celebrations were spent in the role of the guard. But here he is, spinning you around and bringing back into his embrace, dancing a hundredth dance probably - he doesn't count and doesn't really need to with the stamina your bodies have. People start clapping their hands and cheering for the cute couple and for once the man doesn't feel like exposure to so many eyes is a bad thing. Not when you smile like that, not when the lantern's light plays in your hair and the gems of your eyes glinting just like now, not when your laughter sounds so joyous and sincere.

Dainsleif’s feet start hurting from tapping. Dainsleif’s heart is beating fast and breath falters a little. Dainsleif’s lips are burnt with a smile, mirroring the one plastered on your beautiful kissable face.

Moving forward and creating new things to remember, just like this sweet peck you give him, when you two finally leave the square? Sure, but only if you stay by his side to dance to the music your hearts make no matter how dark the night of your fate becomes.

Ayato

Let your soul take you where you long to be

Only then can you belong to me

Nestled on the soft cushions your figure is what has been occupying attention of the Kamisato clan for the past several minutes. With chin perched on one of his fisted hands while the other calmly lays upon the documents strewn all over the table, the man is watching you, noting how your lashes cast a shadow on the apples of your cheeks in the dim light, how your lips are sealed shut in concentration and the serene expression that you are wearing makes you look like a protagonist of Lady Yae's novels.

"Lord Kamisato, you've been staring at me for quite some time now. Are you finished with your work already?" You ask without even sparing a glance at him, eyes still shut - you know how much Ayato enjoys little challenges of your character, and not giving him attention completely is one of them. Besides, your fingers have long but memorised the body of the instrument, so you don't need to look for a note literally.

Ayato doesn't answer you right away, letting the strings sing their song and the biwa in your hands turn this evening- oh wait, when did it turn into a night? in a magnificent moment of tranquility. You opt for slower melodies today, taking just enough time to lead the streak from the beginning and to the end, as the powerful hand of a god.

"As a matter of fact, I am not yet done, my beloved," he murmurs eventually, picking up back an ink brush. "But I must thank you again for keeping me company at the times my existence is overrun by paperwork."

A quiet chuckle falls from your lips and rightfully into the melody.

"How bold of you, lord Kamisato… Can it be that you forgot that our society has a…tendency to get ahead of themselves. I am sure there are going to be rumors about a certain noble staying over for the night at the residence of the Commissioner. Don't you think it'll become a stain on your reputation?"

"Quite the contrary," he retorts, signing a paper and putting it on the stack, "The Yashiro Commission is all about festivities and traditions. Music is a big part of it and understanding it serves me just right. Not to mention, the only child of your household is the most virtuosic biwa player in this whole country. An invitation is something to be expected."

"True, but you've been inviting me three times a week for the past two months. Suspicious, don't you think so?"

You decide not to add that it's always his personal chambers with no servants in sight and night quickly overtaking the sky. You come, you keep him company playing your instrument and then…

He occasionally abandons his work to join you on the cushions.

"Have you changed your mind? About the future?" He asks quietly, lowering himself in front of you, and a melody comes to a halt.

"We've talked dozens of times about the future, Ayato. Or the case is that you get satisfaction from listening to my plans and dreams?"

You know he does. He loves that you know what you want from your future. He marks it precious that ever since the first time he asked you the question, you never strayed from the answer you gave him. And the answer itself?

"What is your future?"

"With you. And yours?"

"By your side."

Is what makes him think more about a ring stored in his pocket.

Long delicate fingers wrap around the neck of the instrument and softly pry it from your hands. The wooden corpus is placed upon the cushions and out of the way, quickly forgotten as the next moment lips crash together in a passionate dance, far less innocent than the serene atmosphere you shared just seconds ago.

He is excited for what the future holds for the two of you and can't wait to replay your game of questions and answers as the part of your wedding vows.

Soon the night will be gone and the light will accompany your union.

Childe

Floating, falling sweet intoxication

Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation

"Baby, you sure that's a good idea? Wouldn't your coworkers or subordinates be looking for you?"

"Relaaaaaax, just one night shift won't change anything. Just trust me," gloved hand squeezes yours tighter, taking you further and further away from the building of his residence. You felt like two teenagers escaping parent houses in the middle of the night to go on a date, making sure not to get caught even if the crunching snow under your feet sounds deafening in the silence.

The more you move forward, the louder the tune becomes. In confusion you glance at your boyfriend and right at the moment he turns his face to yours and grins widely. Oh Tsaritsa, he looks so adorable in street lights, curls of ginger hair poking from under his trapper hat, cheeks and nose rosy from the cold - you immediately reach a free hand to readjust his scarf, - and ocean blue eyes staring at you with mischief.

"Are you taking me to dances?" You muse, speeding up a little, when a gust of wind blows just behind you. Ajax releases your hand to wrap an arm around your waist instead, pressing you into his side.

"Yep, heard someone was throwing a small party tonight."

"Authorized?" You ask surprised and the man beside you nods.

"Yeah, some noble celebration and I got an invitation. Y'know, to 'keep it under control'."

"Or is it just an excuse?" He only laughs.

It's no wonder when you are let in without any questions and Childe drags you right to the dance floor, saying something about there being no need to greet the hosts. The lights are dimmed, so you let go of your outer clothing without any fear to be recognized - if anything no one would approach you two unless Lord Tartaglia (if actually recognized) shows he wants to talk business.

Which he clearly doesn't, not when he has you with him here. So pretty, dressed up, with the brightest smile plastered on your face, eyes shining from behind a masquerade mask you've been handed at the entrance, and it is matching his.

He is truly enamored.

"Come here, babe, I wanna dance," his palms are on your hips, twirling you around to face him. Instinctively your arms find their place around his neck and the young man can't help but bend down and steal a short kiss from your lips. To him a sweet giggle falling from your lips is louder than any music playing in the room, and he wants to hear more. But a finger is pressed against his pursed lips and you laugh.

"Later, boy, later. We'll have plenty of time, because, knowing you, you'll soon grow impatient and drag me out of here," which is true and you both know it is. So he simply shrugs his shoulders and blows hot air against your finger.

The new composition starts playing, and, before you know it, your body is swept away by his strong arms, starting the first dance of many (or maybe not) to follow. Lingering touches waltz across your skin while heated glances leap in a more passionate paso doble. Even though there are tables with alcohol around, you two don't need it to get drunk, and you think your head is spinning a little, because there is nothing in your view except those ocean eyes, except those autumn-colored locks, except those tempting smiling lips...

No one would notice if a couple of melodies later the two suddenly appeared guests just as suddenly disappeared from the room full of dancing pairs. Maybe, if one of you gets tired of kisses, or warm tight embraces, or firework-bursting sensations in your chests, you'll return.

"To think it was your idea to come here and have fun, only to not last even five dances..."

"We are having fun," a sweet kiss leaves you breathless and you gasp for air when he leans back to stare at you lovingly, "aren't we, sugar lips?"

"Mmm, I must admit even a couple of dances was refreshing. I am having fun..." it's your time to steal his breath and the young man quietly moans, eyes half-lidded and mask half-ridden up his face, "...indeed. Now let's move somewhere else until some poor servant catches us and falls victim to your rage and desire to duel."

Yeah, no way you are coming back, there is another kind of dances your night has a reservation for.

Pantalone

Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in

To the power of the music that I write

The power of the music of the night

Lately you started disliking nights. The time that is meant to spend resting and preferably in the arms of your lover is wasted while waiting for the man to return home, leaving you completely alone. Yes, you understand he has a job to fulfill, a very important one, but neglecting you for the fourth night in a row? It starts to piss you off.

You pass your fur coat to one of the agents in the hall and the employee bows his head to you, murmuring something along the lines “Master Pantalone is in his office”. Surely you would know the only place in the Northland bank your husband would be at in such an ungodly hour of the night.

Heels of your expensive shoes click against the tiled floor, signaling other agents of your arrival. You barely wave your hand or nod at them as a sign of acknowledgment and permission to get back to their duties, too busy to get into the elevator that’ll bring you to one of the top floors.

You don’t even knock when the massive, adorned with pure gold decorations door appears in front of you. A key emerges from your pocket and quickly disappears in a keyhole. A couple of twists, a victorious click and the handle is in your hand, while the key is back within the confines of your clothes.

The grandiose room, not many had an honor to be in, meets you with its usual cacophony of sounds: the rustle of papers, the click of an abacus, the creak of a quill and the clink of coins. A distinctive feature of your dear husband - there is no clock on the wall or the working desk. The ticking drives Regrator insane, provokes headaches and simply makes him lose his concentration.

Which is not ruined now, as he keeps his eyes trained on the things all over his desk, barely moving a muscle upon your entrance. Yeah, sure he knows there is only one person in the whole Teyvat that has a spare key to his office at the bank, but some kind of acknowledgement would've been nice.

You don't slam the door shut, even though you really want to, but instead slowly close it, registering the quiet click, and then just as slowly walk to the spacious mahogany desk within an equally spacious room.

"For how long Lord Pantalone is planning to ignore me?" You are standing right in front of the annoying piece of furniture (the obstacle you'd really like to throw away at the moment), crossing your arms, and burning holes in his head. The banker hums something, sliding beads back and forth on the big counting instrument that takes a quarter of the desk surface. The thing annoys you even more.

You make sure he writes down numbers he needs and then snatch the abacus from under his hand, hopping onto the now free space. The tips of his fingers poke your hip and then and only then does Pantalone lift his gaze at you.

"Oh, now I finally have your attention?" Humming you test the weight of the wooden piece in your hand, making the beads rattle and click. Your husband sighs, reaching up to get the tool back, but you only draw your arm further, creating even more disturbing sounds.

“And what my darling is doing?” while a never-disappearing smile is plastered on his handsome face, you can clearly see the brow that starts twitching.

“Hmmmm… I dunno,” you twist you wrist a couple of times more, making the beads slide and hit each other, all the while watching the way his fingers are squeezing the poor quill. “Maybe I am giving you a headache that you can’t work any longer, so I can finally bring you home.”

"Vixen."

"You don't really mean it," yeah, when he means it, the words can get pretty sharp. Not towards you though, he'd never let himself insult you no matter how much you can intentionally annoy him. "Besides," you grab a coin from a stack he hasn't counted yet and let it drop on the floor, hitting it multiple times, all the while accompanying the ringing sounds with the ones of the abacus, "you know I am right and you need to go home and rest. Or else…" before he can react you grab a fistful of mora and throw it in the air, knowing a horrendous melody they are gonna play, "I will ruin you work even more for you. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

"Your methods…" he flinches while you are not phased at all by the cacophony the gold creates in the union with marble, "...very atrocious."

"You are the one to say, Lord Harbinger," grinning, you lean forward, just mere inches from his face, from his parted lips.

"So… would you like to hear more of my improvised concert, or you'd rather join me on our way back home?"

You alone can make my song take flight

Help me make the music of the night

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