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stylesonfilms · 24 days ago

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ink & innocence - 18 *

word count: 5.5k

hiii! i might start making little outfit/vibe inspos for certain chapters. :-) enjoy my first smut chapter! also i'm too lazy to write the kind of smut the story entails but they dont fully do it here !! enjoyyy!

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"Come see me soon, okay?"

Harry leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. Aspen nodded, buried in Harry's shirt shr had stolen. He brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear before leaning down to press another kiss to her lips. "Bye, sugar. See you later, yeah?"

As Harry disappeared down the hall, Aspen turned around and closed the door with a content sigh. Her eyes scanned over the empty solo cups and her now empty apartment, as Isobel headed home with Zayn.

Aspen stood in the now-quiet apartment, the stillness a stark contrast to the lively chaos that had filled the space just hours ago. Her fingers brushed over her lips, still tingling from Harry's goodbye kiss. She hugged his oversized shirt tighter around herself, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne that lingered on the fabric—a mix of cedarwood and something uniquely him.

The girl glanced around the room, taking in the aftermath of their gathering. Solo cups dotted the coffee table, a few crumpled napkins lay on the floor, and the faint scent of alcohol and chips hung in the air. A soft smile played on her lips as she started tidying up, her mind replaying moments from the night.

As she moved through the space, Aspen carefully stacked the cups into a pile, tossing them into the trash bag she had retrieved from the kitchen. Her hands worked methodically, but her mind drifted. She thought about Harry, the way he had looked at her tonight with such tenderness, the way he always seemed to know how to make her feel special even in a room full of people. Her heart fluttered as she recalled the warmth of his touch, the way his deep laugh filled the room like a melody she never wanted to stop hearing.

Aspen carried the garbage bag to the kitchen and began wiping down the counters, humming softly to herself. Her thoughts shifted to how natural it felt to have Harry in her space, to share these moments of quiet intimacy with him. The apartment felt emptier now that he was gone, but the warmth he left behind lingered.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Later that evening, Aspen stood in her bedroom, sorting through her wardrobe. The sun was beginning to set, casting a soft golden light through the sheer curtains. Her hair was pinned back with delicate clips to keep it out of her face as she sat at her vanity, organizing her makeup. She decided on a soft, natural look, something that felt effortless but made her feel confident.

As she swept a rosy blush across her cheeks, her thoughts wandered back to Harry. She smiled faintly, recalling the way he had stolen her juice box earlier. His playful grin, the way he teased her without ever crossing a line—it all made her feel seen, cared for. The way he said goodbye lingered in her mind. Come see me soon, okay? The words felt like a promise, one she was eager to keep. Harry had a lonely night at the shop tonight, just wanting to finish up on some paperwork and hopefully a few sketches and he noted multiple times how he would love Aspen's company.

Aspen moved to her closet and pulled out a satin floral long skirt she hadn’t worn in a while. She had just gotten off of her time of the month and was looking forward to dressing up a bit anyways. The fabric shimmered subtly in the evening light, the delicate pattern of soft pinks and greens feeling perfect for the warm evening ahead. She paired it with a white lace tank top, forgoing a bra, as the intricate details of the lace added a touch of elegance and femininity.

The girl sat on her bed for a moment, just smiling to herself as she thought of Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry. She was still in complete awe of him and how he was her boyfriend. If anyone were to ask the girl when she first heard of him, she would absolutely deny the possibility of her even coming close to Harry Styles or vice versa, but now she wouldn't have it any other way. Everything from his tattoos which were delicately and intricately placed, each with a story, she was sure, to the change of polish every week or two that lingered on his fingernails, to his gorgeous curls. She could go on and on, thinking about the sharp curve of his brows or the glint in his green eyes when he looked at her. How he would spin his lip ring around mid conversation while he was thinking, or how he would twist his rings using the sides of the surrounding fingers.

Aspen fluttered her eyes shut and, something she had never done, pressed her thighs together. She surprised herself at first, sitting fully up. A red hot rushed to her cheeks as the thought settled into her mind. She was a virgin, but she wasn't stupid. The girl brushed her hair back and cleared her throat, her cheeks still on fire yet she chose to brush it out of her head for now.

She stood in front of her full-length mirror, adjusting the waistband of the skirt and smoothing down the tank top. The outfit made her feel beautiful, but it also made her think about what Harry might say when he saw her. Would he notice the way the fabric flowed around her legs, or the way the lace hugged her figure? The thought made her cheeks flush slightly, but she smiled at herself in the mirror.

Slipping on a pair of simple sandals, she added a few accessories—a dainty gold necklace and matching earrings. She spritzed on her favorite perfume, a light floral scent, and stepped back to look at herself one last time. Satisfied, she grabbed her phone and sent Harry a quick text:

Aspen: on my way!! x

With that, Aspen grabbed her bag and headed toward the door, feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation to see her boyfriend once again.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Aspen pushed open the glass door of the tattoo shop, the soft chime of the bell announcing her arrival. The space was dimly lit, the warm glow of the overhead lights bouncing off the red-accented walls. Artwork adorned the space, each piece vibrant and unique, a reflection of Zayn and Harry’s creative talents. The faint scent of disinfectant mingled with the earthy aroma of leather chairs and faint whiffs of ink.

She spotted Harry in his office through the partially open door, hunched over his desk. His dark curls peeked out from under a backwards baseball cap, and his black Rage Against the Machine shirt clung to his broad shoulders. He was scribbling something in his sketchbook, a slight furrow in his brow as he concentrated. The sight of him, so absorbed in his work, brought a soft smile to Aspen’s face.

Harry glanced up as she approached, his features softening instantly. He stood, his grin spreading wide as his eyes trailed over her outfit. “Bloody hell, you look gorgeous,” he said, setting his pencil down and walking toward her. His hands found her hips instinctively, his thumbs brushing over the silky fabric of her skirt. “This skirt is... somethin' else,” he murmured, his voice low as he leaned down to kiss her softly.

Aspen’s cheeks flushed at his touch, her fingers lightly resting on his chest. “Thank you,” she whispered, her smile shy but genuine.

Harry pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his expression tender. “You’re going to distract me all night, you know that?”

Before she could respond, the sharp ring of the shop’s phone interrupted them. Harry groaned, resting his forehead against hers briefly before pulling away. “Hold that thought,” he said with a smirk, heading to the desk in the corner of the office.

Aspen watched as he picked up the receiver. “Yeah?” he said, his tone lightening when he realized it was Niall. Harry leaned back in his chair, one foot propped on the desk as he talked, his free hand gesturing animatedly.

Aspen wandered over to the small sofa tucked against the wall and sat down, pulling a book from her bag. She opened it to the bookmarked page, but her eyes kept drifting to Harry. He looked so at ease, effortlessly charming even in mundane moments like this. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the desk as he talked, his head tilting slightly when he laughed at something Niall said.

She tried to focus on the words in front of her, but the steady cadence of Harry’s voice was comforting, a background melody she couldn’t ignore. Eventually, she gave up on reading altogether, her gaze settling on him. There was something magnetic about the way he worked—how his hand moved fluidly across the paper when he returned to his sketches, how his brows furrowed slightly in concentration.

Harry hung up the phone after a few minutes, spinning his chair to face her. He caught her staring and grinned. “Am I that fascinating?” he teased, setting his sketchbook down and leaning back in his chair.

Aspen shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “Maybe a little,” she admitted, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

Harry chuckled, standing up and stretching before walking over to sit beside her with his folders and pens. “You know, you’re not exactly subtle,” he said, his tone teasing but affectionate.

She laughed softly, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I just like being here with you,” she said quietly. “Even if it’s just sitting in silence.”

Harry wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. “Yeah,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Me too, sugar. Me too.”

The two of them sat there, the hum of the shop and the occasional scratching of Harry’s pencil filling the room. Aspen didn’t need to read her book, and Harry didn’t need to say much. Their presence was enough, a silent rhythm of comfort and understanding that neither of them wanted to break.

However, thoughts from earlier flooded her mind, when she had been sitting in her bed. How her thoughts got lost in a sea of Harry, his hands, his looks, his mouth. A blush crept back onto her cheeks, hidden by her hair as she diverted her gaze to the book she was reading in hopes it would distract her. But nothing seemed to work, as Aspen kept going back to him. She swore she could close her eyes and feel his lips on her neck.

Aspen shifted slightly on the sofa, her cheeks burning as the memory of Harry's lips brushed against her mind. She clenched the book a little tighter, willing herself to focus on the words in front of her, but it was hopeless. Every time she tried, her thoughts would drift back to him—the way his hands lingered on her hips, the way his voice dropped an octave when he spoke her name, the way his lips felt impossibly soft against hers.

The idea of making a move felt both thrilling and terrifying. Harry was always so open, so unabashedly affectionate, yet Aspen still found herself hesitant. What if she crossed an unspoken boundary? What if her desire was too much, too forward? But then again, wasn’t Harry the one who looked at her like she was his entire world? He was always finding ways to touch her, always leaving her feeling like she was the only person who mattered. Maybe—just maybe—he was waiting for her to take the lead.

Her heart raced at the thought, her pulse quickening as she stole a glance at him. He was focused on his sketchbook again, the faint crease in his brow signaling his concentration. Aspen admired the way his fingers moved so effortlessly, the veins in his hands visible as he worked. Her stomach flipped as she imagined what those hands might feel like trailing up her back, pulling her closer. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and she quickly looked away, burying her face in her book to hide her flushed cheeks.

Should I just do it? she wondered, biting her lip nervously. Harry had always been patient with her, never pushing her beyond what she was comfortable with. But maybe it was time for her to show him that she wanted him just as much—that she wasn’t afraid to meet him halfway.

Finally, she closed the book carefully and set it beside her, her hands nervously fiddling in her lap. "Harry?," She squeaked out eventually. He didn't look up, sharing a slight glance but stayed concentrated on his book. "Yeah, babe?"

"Are you.. busy?" The girl nervously bit the inside of her lip, her eyes darting from his concentrated look to the book and how his hands moved, mentally cursing herself. Of course he was busy, you idi--.

"No, baby. Not really. Why? What's up?" Oh. Okay, good.

Aspen swallowed and shifted in her seat to turn towards Harry, and his hand around her gently caressed her bare shoulder, her cardigan laid beside her. With a breath, she finally spoke. If he said no, he would be nice about it, at least. Plus, it was just Harry. But that was the exact issue. It was Harry.

"I was thinking we could try something new." Now, Harry wasn't looking at her, but he didn't have to for her to know how attentive he was. He always responded, and his shoulder touches grounded her even more.

"Oh, yeah? What're we thinkin', daredevil? Ready to go t'the duck park?" He grinned, amusing himself now. She only huffed and swatted his arm lightly. He knew that was a fear of hers. Has nobody seen how scary ducks are, especially when they're heavily food driven?!

"No," she squeaked, a pink rush rising to her cheeks from her neck. "I..." Come on, Aspen. "I was thinking we could try something new." Despite her shy and stuttered movements, her hand moved further up his arm and rested on his chest.

"Oh." Now that got Harry's attention. He glanced down at the hand on his chest, closing his book with the pencil between and setting it to the side. The mans tongue poked out to wet his lips as he took her hand, shifting himself to look at her. With scattered kisses to her knuckles, he asked her, "And what is it that you want to try?"

Aspen felt a wave of relief hit her. It wasn't explicitly stated yet that he would want to, but at least he didn't tell her to bug off and that he would rather work. But who was Aspen kidding? Harry would walk away from a burning building full of innocent lives if it meant Aspen offered him a kiss.

"I don't know yet," the girl squeaked, but Harry's hand that came to tilt her chin up stopped her from looking away shyly. "I don't... think we should go all the way yet, but maybe.. something small. Steps, I guess." She sucked in a breath in embarrassment.

The word 'yet' strangely went straight down Harry's spine. It made him feel more than good to know she trusted him enough to let them get that far eventually. The mans thumb grazed under her bottom lip, his green eyes flickering over her soft features. A small smile cracked his lips.

"Yeah? We can do tha', baby. I agree with you, not jus' yet, but there's plenty we could do, yeah? Thank you f'trusting me, Asp." The man kissed her knuckles again before he tilted his head down to capture her lips between his in a slow kiss.

"If y'don't know, why don't we start how we usually do? And I'll go slow, won't skip a step or anythin'. You can tell me what's okay, 'nd wha's not okay. But I want words when I ask you something, okay? 's important to know what you like and don't like, it helps the both of us feel good." Aspen nodded, but quickly replaced it with a 'yes' which made Harry smile some more.

Carefully, Harry got them into a position where he could comfortably hover above her and made she was settled and comfortable under him. Her arms snaked around the mans broad shoulders when he came down to slot their lips together. Harry moved his lips carefully with hers, taking it slow, though he was always ready to have her.

He swiped his tongue along her bottom lip and like routine, she opened for him. The man's tongue carded through her mouth, a content sound escaping his nose at the feeling. She was warm, and she never failed to taste sweet. He hoped he could say that about something else tonight, too.

Just before Aspen could turn her head and deepen the kiss, Harry began to trail his kisses down her neck. It was normal for him to break off, but this time, his kisses were different. They were slow and he seemed to drag them out, grazing his teeth near the curve of her neck. Harry took her heavy breaths as a sign for him to keep going. He used his teeth teasingly a few times more, brushing over that special spot that always elicited a perfect sound from her, this time no different.

He smirked slightly, kissing over the area. "Tell me if y'want to stop," His voice trailed off into her neck as she tilted to give him more access. Harry's wet lips parted and he slowly latched onto the side of her neck. After a second or two, the feeling of his teeth over the spot came and she gasped. It wasn't uncomfortable, but surely was different. Her eyes fluttered closed as she let out a small whimper when he repeated the action slightly lower, except she felt the slick of his tongue up her neck and over the marks he left.

Harry sat up on his knee slightly and set a hand on the curve of her shoulder, his thumb brushing over the two small bites he left with a satisfied smirk. "There, now you're mine," the man muttered as he leaned back down to get back to work, trailing his kisses down her collarbones.

"Always been yours, Har.." She breathed out, her hands swarming his curls now. He groaned against her skin at Aspen's words, nudging her with his nose before he kissed along the hem of her tank top. A leather sofa wouldn't exactly be the best to lay down shirtless, so he continued to trail his kisses down the center of her chest.

When Aspen mustered the strength to open her eyes once more, she swore she could pass out at the sight. He was looking back up at her, his mouth blotting kisses over her tits, lips grazing over her nipples through her tank top. "Is this okay?" He muttered, and Aspen almost shouted a big yes.

"Y-yeah," the girl nodded, playing with the curls between her hand under the cusp of his hat. She licked her lips slowly, her brows furrowing slightly when she felt Harry's lips wrap around her bud over her shirt. Aspen gasped and lifted her chest to match Harry, his free hand coming up to cup her breast. He kept a firm squeeze, his thumb occasionally brushing over her nipple while his mouth continued with their wet kisses down her stomach.

She was perfect, Harry thought. Every curve, every sound, how soft she was. The way she seemed to respond seemed perfect to him, like music to his ears. The man shifted his body, now planted between her legs with his arms holding him up by her hips. "Do you remember what I told you? Tell me whe--."

"Yes, Harry. I know, just... keep going. It's okay." Harry chuckled softly at her eagerness, but with more of a confident base, his hands folded up the end of her shirt to expose her stomach, where his lips immediately landed.

Harry mouthed wet kisses over, trailing down to the hem of her skirt. While his lips moved, the both of his hands slid down her clothed thigh under they reached the end of her skirt where they slipped under slowly. As his hands traveled back up her bare legs and her glorious thighs, the skirt bunched over her hips perfectly. When Harry had pulled back to sit up, he couldn't help but have his eyes roam over her body. They took in her red lips and flustered face, her damp tank top, her exposed soft skin of her stomach, and her white panties, a pretty pink bow sitting on the front hem.

Aspen blushed at the sudden exposure, but didn't halt him. If she knew her skirt would be coming up, she wouldn't put on something prettier. But Harry didn't seem to mind as the word "fuck" fell off his lips while his hands took ahold of her thighs to slowly spread them. He looked back up at her to see if she was uncomfortable at all, but nothing looked off so he continued.

"Now, I know you told me to shut up," Harry teased his words, which made her puff out a 'I didn't say shut up', "but I want t'tell you what I plan to do." The mans hands came to rest on her hips, his thumbs slowly coming to a close over the front of her panties. He hummed, running his fingers over the soft mound while he looked up at her once more. "Look at me."

Aspen peeled her eyes open, swallowing to ease her dry throat and she looked down at Harry, with a new flicker in his eyes. Want.

"Good girl," He kissed her knee, his hands sliding up the soft sides of her thighs before they returned to their original position. Aspen's heart fluttered at the pet name, followed by a coil in her stomach.

"I don't have to take these off, but I want to touch you. Over your clit, maybe inside you a bit. And then 'm going to use my tongue to lick you, or eat you out. 'S that sounding okay?"

Aspen swallowed once more and took a breath in through her nose. She couldn't even focus on being nervous or embarrassed anymore, just how Harry's thumb gently tapped over her. "Yes, that's... that's okay." She nodded.

Harry's lips turned up into a smile and he kissed her knee once more, his fingers now running down the fold of her pussy through her panties. "Good. Don't forget what I told you."

Aspen wasn't sure which part he was talking about, as she would prefer if he would be more show than talk. Almost on cue, his thumb pressed over her clothed clit, which sent a thrill up her spine. She gasped softly, lying back down with a new thump in her heart which she swore she and Harry could feel between her legs.

Harry kept the light pressure as he ran up and down her slit over the white cotton panties, dipping a bit deeper when he brushed over her entrance. He licked his lips as he was met with the immediate mush of wet. She was wet for him and he couldn't help but think for how long.

The man's finger hooked onto the side of her panties with one hand, slowly peeling it to the side. Harry couldn't help but stare. She was so... perfect. The man tucked the fabric into the side of her thigh, his fingers now focused on pulling her open. Harry wasn't some sick freak, but she genuinely was crafted perfectly. Her soft skin and lips that held her beautiful pink insides, her sweet bud of her clit on full show between her folds. Okay, maybe he was a sick freak. But just for her.

He groaned softly at the bundle of slick that coated her entirely. Without a second thought, his thumb dipped down between her folds and over her entrance, collecting the slick to travel back up over her clit. It was like the feeling was an immediate shock. With each small, teasing swirl, Aspen whimpered. Fueled by her reaction, the man added a bit more pressure, fully giving into his touches now. The girl's lips broke out into a moan, her hips buckling ever so slightly.

"How does it feel, Aspen?" Hearing her name snapped her half out of reality, and breathy moans continued to follow in her response. "I-it' feels good, Harry. Really... good." She licked her lips and whined once more at the loss of contact, just to feel the pad of his thumb prodding at her entrance. She gasped out a moan, the soft squelches of the repeated action hitting Harry's ears beautifully.

Harry licked his lips, deciding he couldn't wait any longer. It had been a long time since he felt the want to do this to a woman, but with Aspen, he kind of knew from the moment he saw her. There was no way he could avoid that. In fact, most times when he had his fist wrapped around himself, thoughts of eating her out would flood his mind. The orgasm wasn't that hard to chase after that, but the guilt was sure hard to shake.

Now, Harry got to experience it first hand. He ducked his head down between her thighs, his hands sliding along the sides of her thighs so his arms could snake around her folded legs. The man's breath fanned out over the girl's inner thighs, his lips lightly scattering kisses on the inside of her thighs and down to just outside where she needed.

"Harry," Aspen whispered, more in want than to call him. Yet he looked up, his lips still working kisses onto the inside of her thighs. She almost fainted at the sight. She shook her head and fell back once more, her now bare foot grazing along his back. "Please..."

Satisfied, Harry pressed a flat kiss to her clit, which sent a pleasurable shock through her. His tongue flattened out along the curve of her pussy before he skillfully dipped in between and along her folds. He avoided her clit for a few teasing moment, melting into the sweet warmth of her cunt. Harry let out a moan on his own at just the feeling on his mouth, eyes flickering up to look at her through the hard peaks of her nipples to see how her reddened lips fell open.

The man closed his eyes and took a breath, swiping the muscle over her clit with ease and focused on swirls for a moment. Aspen continued her breathless moans, the rest falling into her palm. Once Harry noticed, he was quick to reach up and tug her arm away to reveal her breathy and needy moans. A whimper followed by a grind of her hips followed when his tongue prodded at her entrance. Slowly, he inched the tip of his tongue in and groaned against her, working his tongue back up to her clit.

Aspen felt like she was on fire. Everything she never knew she could feel, she was feeling with Harry. She gasped at the cool of his lip ring, replaced by a small cry of a moan when his tongue entered her once again. The heels of her feet dug into his shoulder blades, her hands finding home in his curls once she fumbled with the hat to toss it aside.

When Harry gave a particular dip inside her entrance and a sweet swirl over her clit, Aspen's manicured nails wrapped around his curls and pulled at them slightly, which drew out a groan from Harry. "S-sorry," she squeaked, letting go of her grip.

He popped off with a wet noise, his lips shining with her wet. "Do what you want, okay? I enjoy it," Harry promised before he was face deep into her thighs once more. Taking his word, her fingers curled around his hair. With every jolt to her body, every arch, she tugged at his curls. And every time he had moaned or groaned, the vibration only added to the pleasure.

It wasn't long until Aspen felt a coil in her stomach. "H-Harry, stop, I-I have to--."

Aspen couldn't define the feeling. The intense pressure mixed with what Harry was giving her had her chest rising quick and high, her thighs threatening to close, only to have Harry pull them back open. Harry shook his head, flattening his tongue back over her clit as she did so. "You're jus' gonna cum, trust y'self." His hands worked soothing motions over the girls thighs while his words muttered out over her slick cunt.

Aspen's eyes screwed shut, her grip on his curls tightening as she rolled her hips. "H-Harry!" She cried out, her hips faltering while Harry practically drank her in. She came quick and with ease, her orgasm ripping through her. His motions were fluid and quick yet sent so many shocks up her body to the point she couldn't move.

Harry continued to slowly and gently lap her clean, taking in everything she gave until she started to shy away and whimper. "H-hurts," she gasped, yet something about it made her want Harry to stay there.

The man pulled up with trailing kisses over her heat and inner thighs, his lips and chin slick with her mess. Harry licked his lips and flashed her a lopsided grin. His thumbs worked slow and careful shapes into her thighs, trying to soothe her. Aspens bent legs fell flat as she tried to regulate her breathing, cheeks burning red.

"You did so, so good," Harry praised as he leaned over to kiss her lips softly multiple times until she giggled breathlessly against his. "God, Aspen. 'M so proud of you, y'have no idea."

Harry lingered above Aspen, brushing a strand of damp hair from her forehead as he gazed down at her with a tenderness that made her heart ache. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body still trembling from the aftermath of what they had just shared. His praise echoed in her mind, wrapping around her like a comforting embrace, though her cheeks were still flushed with embarrassment and exhilaration.

“You okay?” Harry asked softly, his voice low and warm. His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin in soothing strokes.

Aspen nodded, her lips curving into a small, shy smile. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’m so okay.”

Harry’s grin widened, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Stay here, sugar. I’ll be right back,” he murmured, his words a gentle promise.

Reluctantly, he pulled away, slipping off the couch and disappearing into the bathroom just outside of his office. Aspen shifted slightly, wincing as the sensitive skin of her thighs protested the movement. She reached for the hem of the skirt she wore, intending to tug it down, but her hands faltered as the vulnerability of the moment settled over her. Despite her initial shyness, she felt an overwhelming sense of trust—an intimacy she had never experienced before.

Harry returned moments later with a warm washcloth and a glass of water. He set the glass on the table beside them and knelt by the end of the couch, his expression soft and intent as he reached for her. “Let me take care of you, yeah?” he said, his voice filled with quiet devotion.

Aspen hesitated for a moment, then nodded, her trust in him overriding her embarrassment. Harry carefully lifted her legs, his touch gentle as he cleaned her with the washcloth. He worked with a focused tenderness, his movements unhurried and respectful, as if he understood the weight of her vulnerability. After each wipe, he left a grateful kiss.

“You’re amazing, y’know that?” Harry said softly, his eyes flicking up to meet hers as he pressed the cloth against her skin. “So beautiful. So perfect.”

Aspen’s lips parted, her breath catching at his words. She felt a tear slip down her cheek, not from sadness but from the overwhelming emotion of the moment. Her lips cracked into a lazy smile regardless. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “For... everything.”

Harry’s brows knit together in concern as he reached up to brush the tear away with his thumb. “No need t'thank me,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle. “I meant every word, Asp baby. 'M the lucky one here.”

After he was finished, Harry set the washcloth aside and climbed back onto the couch, pulling Aspen into his arms. She melted against him, her cheek resting against his chest as his fingers traced soothing patterns on her back. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear was grounding, and she felt herself relax completely in his embrace.

“Drink some water for me, yeah?” Harry coaxed, reaching for the glass on the nightstand. He held it to her lips, watching with a small smile as she obediently took a sip.

As the minutes passed, the silence between them was filled with an unspoken understanding, a bond that felt unbreakable. Harry pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering as he whispered, “I’ll always take care 'f you, Asp. Always.”

Aspen tightened her arms around him, her heart swelling with gratitude and love. In that moment, she knew with certainty that Harry wasn’t just her partner—he was her safe place, her home. And for the first time in a long time, she felt truly and completely cherished.

She made a mental note to definitely return the favor soon.

#harry styles #fanfic #one direction #zayn malik #niall horan #fanfiction #wattpad fanfiction #wattpad #louis tomlinson #harry styles fanfiction #smut #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing

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ultimate-chickennougat · 11 months ago

Text

| Your Salaryman Husband | (Vol 4)

Vol 1 Vol 2 Vol 3 (Not Required) Vol 5 Vol 6 Vol 7 Vol 8 Vol 9

Salaryman!Kento x Housewife!Reader

When you get sick...

Word Count: 1.1k CW: SFW, Domestic Fluff, fem!Reader, Y/n is sick, Nanami takes off his shirt (nondescriptive)

A/n: Maybe you should meet Gojo sometime soon... idk... thoughts.

You mostly stayed inside the confines of your home, so getting sick wasn’t a common occurrence.

Food was always prepared well, with vegetables washed and meat cooked properly. The house was regularly dusted and vacuumed, sheets and pillowcases thrown in the washing machine at least once per week.

Nanami’s routine had certain protections as well, sitting a comfortable distance away from clients and coworkers while at meetings, and being in a partitioned office space in a quiet corner of the building during the work day.

Despite these things, the sudden cold front seemed to disagree with your immune system, as you were now snuggled up in bed with a box of tissues.

“Kento, darling, I can sleep in the guest bedroom, it’s fine,” you argued through your sniffles and occasional cough. He walked over to the side of the bed and pushed a few more pillows under your head. “It’s fine, it would take too much work to move things. You’re tired, so go to sleep,” he muttered, a slight chuckle leaving his mouth at your willingness. “You know I’m perfectly alright with sleeping here with you, you know,” you lightly pushed him away as he sat on the bed. “You’ll get sick too, and you have work,” you grabbed another tissue.

“I could always take some time off, I have some sick days in my contract,” Nanami smiled, feeling your forehead. “I’m glad you can still take care of yourself, but I’m here too. Just rely on me a little, Y/n,” he stood up and left to grab you some water.

It was the evening after a long day at work, when Nanami found you in an unwell state. Dinner on the stove was half cooked, sitting there, as you had quit for his sake when the sneezing onset. His poor wife, already asleep and shivering on the couch by the time he got home.

Nanami picked you up, your arms wrapped lazily around his neck as he carried you to your shared room and laid you down. You woke up shortly after the covers were pulled over your body, head peaking out from the growing mass of blankets and pillows surrounding you. Two more were still awaiting their place behind your head.

Now he was in the kitchen, turning on the stove to medium high and clicking the start button on the timer, which was already set to the final 15 minutes it needed until done. You had already felt a bit off that morning, something that he kept in mind all day, especially as he rushed home. Hence, a simple chicken soup was on the menu.

He filled up a big glass with water, and took out two bowls from the cabinet, moving back to stir the soup that was bubbling.

You closed your eyes, enjoying the smell of soup that floated through the air. Dinner would be ready soon, so there was no point in going back to sleep, not that you weren’t close to dozing off already. Nanami came back clearing the nightstand of clutter and setting the box of tissues on the bed next to you. A chair was pulled up next to the nightstand, and two bowls were placed on it.

You sat up comfortably, still surrounded by cozy blankets as you met your husband’s gaze. “I hate to admit it, you seem so miserable, but you’re very cute when you’re sick,” he laughed as you blushed. “I am not, I’m quite disgusting actually, darling,” you pointed to the pile of used tissues sitting in the garbage can. “I don’t think it’s disgusting at all, my love,” He grabbed your hand softly, and guided it to your spoon.

“The soup is delicious, you’ll feel better if you eat,” he watched as you brought a spoonful to your mouth, a soft hum left your lips in agreement, it was quite good and easy to finish.

“Thank you, Kento,” you smiled, pulling the blankets off as you stood up to get ready for bed. “No you don’t,” he grabbed your waist and pulled you back onto the mound of pillows. “If you need something, I can get it for you,” you frowned, letting out a few coughs. “Besides I won’t be here tomorrow during work, so you should rest up while I am.” He stacked up your dishes and left, returning shortly.

“Which nightgown?” he asked, rifling through the dresses in your closet. “The pink short one,” you replied softly, voice slightly rough from your sore throat. He grabbed it and brought it over to you. “Do you need help changing?” He asked plainly, as you laughed. “I can do it myself, Mr. Nanami,” He sighed in defeat, unbuttoning his shirt to get ready himself.

“Well I don’t want you getting off this bed.” You shook your head in disagreement. “I still have to brush my teeth,” you whined, as he left you to finish getting ready in the bathroom, on your own, as he wiped down the nightstand with a wet cloth and changed.

You came back, dressed for bed with your hair tied up in hopes of keeping cool throughout the night. Tossing yourself onto the blankets, you crawled under the covers enjoying the comfortable mattress the two of you had bought together.

Nanami leaned down from beside the bed, his hand under your chin lifting your face, as he gently kissed your forehead. “I’m glad you don’t have a fever,” He murmured, lips still close to your skin. “I probably just have a cold, I guess,” you responded, snaking your hand down to grip his free one. “You should still stay away from me,” Nanami backed off from you, sitting down.

“I don’t mind getting sick, it causes no problems,” he offered with a smirk. “But if you do really care so much… I’ll offer a compromise,” a look of surprise overtook your face as you awaited his proposal. “At least I get to sit here until you fall asleep, hmm?” you nodded, still longing for his presence, even at a distance.

He kissed your cheek as you drifted to sleep, a smile still on your face and your breath slow and heavy as he could hear the congestion.

“Goodnight, my love,” he sat still, lounging back into the chair. Little did he know it would be two more hours of watching you before he himself fell asleep, still sitting in that chair by your side.

#nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #kento nanami #kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #kento #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami #jjk x reader

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monstersinthecosmos · 3 months ago

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Vamptember Day 17 - You Made a Mess

{deaf center - the clearing}

You made a mess.

Marius doesn’t say it out loud.

He just stands there in the doorway, his eyes passing back and forth across the space, unsure where to even start. Pointing out the obvious won’t help, anyway. Criticizing isn’t productive and he’s not sure Daniel would even comprehend it in the first place.

The paints are all knocked over, though. Tools where they shouldn’t be and the chemical smell of the matte sealer permeating the air from where it’s spilled across the floor.

Daniel sits in the center of it all, balancing things into a sculpture of sorts. Holding all of it very still while the glue sets.

“What are you making?” Marius asks. Gently and uncritical, both curious and concerned, willing to nurture if it will bring him back to the surface.

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t look up. Leans in to blow on the piece he’s building to dry it faster.

How had he managed to ransack every last bit of Marius’s supplies and yet still filled in the gaps with garbage? Seems like he’s twisted together discarded bits of wrapper and strips of cardboard. A loose thread from the carpet. The spiked back leg of a cockroach. HIs hand hovers over his pile of debris, as if each found object is precious as he decides which to select next.

The question doesn’t register in him. Marius listens for an answer, even if Daniel chooses silence. His brain instead throbs quietly with the instructions for himself. This angle and that angle and the glue here and structure there and pieces and parts and pieces and parts and pieces and parts. The thought doesn’t come together with language, but he settles into it, into to the reality of their nature.

Lestat calls it the Savage Garden, but to Daniel it’s just pieces and parts. His hands hold so still, move so carefully, completely inhuman as he attempts to invent balance.

He wonders if Armand has seen this. If he knows it’s gotten this bad. Even with their minds locked from one another, it’s impossible not to see the way he’s deteriorating.

Marius takes a step closer. Slowly, to gauge Daniel’s response, to make sure he’s not intruding. Daniel’s focus never wavers, though, as Marius edges around the perimeter of the room, towards the work table and open cabinet doors. He ties his hair back and rolls up his sleeves, unsure where he wants to begin.

But Daniel makes some sense, he thinks. Something about order and about balance. Pieces and parts. He looks again towards the sculpture, designed with such unique precision, and begins tidying the table from left to right. A piece at a time, in little parts. One by one, chiseling away until there’s balance again.

Daniel’s thoughts ripple in pleasure, wordless between them, connected for long enough that Marius thinks there’s hope.

#vamptember #marius/daniel #marius de romanus #daniel molloy #stuff i wrote

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cemeteryreviews · 3 months ago

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Cemetery Reviews #7 – San Gil Old Cemetery

The old San Gil Cemetery is quite fascinating, but not for the reasons you might initially expect. It's a spacious cemetery with lots of greenery and a beautiful giant tree. The interesting thing is that, due to urbanization projects around it, the cemetery no longer has space to expand, and the terrain is somewhat hilly. People opened another cemetery on the way to the airport and this one has been left alone, somewhat.

Like the Zapatoca Cemetery, the graves in the back are somewhat forgotten, with many broken tombstones now covered in grass. What I found incredible was discovering the morgue right next to it, also forgotten and untouched, perfectly intact. There was even a changing room, and both spaces are filled with dust and wasp nests. I thought that was pretty cool. There was also a wall that covered a door, which now looks like a sealed entrance to the underworld. Some tombstones were repurposed for the surroundings of the chapel and the pathway, which I found hysterical! Neither the names nor the dates were erased, but the tombstones now have a new use. There are also two empty graves, already dug but without any caskets and with the dirt piled beside them. At the far end, there’s a mysterious room whose purpose I couldn’t figure out. The roof is already overgrown with plants, and everything else inside has been abandoned. I peeked in, and it looks like a garbage room. There are several seating areas where you can hear the cicadas when the sun comes out.

Although the old San Gil Cemetery shares the maintenance challenges of other cemeteries, like Bogotá's Central Cemetery, I found this one much more pleasant, genuine, and fascinating.

9/10

#cemetery #cemeteries #graveyards #graveyard #colombia #countryside #death #catholicism #morgue #cemetery reviews #colonial architecture #rustic aesthetic #vernacular architecture

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putiflowy · 13 days ago

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Movie Night! - Mettaton x GN! Reader

Warnings: This fanfic is so cozy it doesn't need warnings expect for a warning warning that there is no warning.

Characters: Mettaton, Papyrus, Sans, Undyne, Alphys and gender neutral reader.

A bit of context: You are living in the skeleton house and you are friends with Alphys and Undyne. You are also a human. That's it.

Words: More than 2k! (I'm a yapper)

...

"Are there swords in this movie?" Asked Undyne with enthusiasm about the CD Alphys was holding between her claws. If the answer was 'yes', then Undyne would not shut up throught the entire movie. If the answer was 'no', she would be asleep in no time.

"I haven't watched it, dear." The small doctor softly pulled her girlfriend's arm so she would sit with her on the purple futon Papyrus had left for them. You observed the couple's behavior up close. On the one hand, Undyne was fighting for space. On the other hand, Alphys wanted to be even closer to her.

"Hey, there is still space here." You pointed the green sofa you were sitting at with Sans. However, the girls decided that it was better to stay together.

"I can't wait to see it!" You told Sans trying to make it obvious that you were excited. Undyne and Alphys had found a movie in the garbage that seemed to be compatible with Papyrus' CD player. After all this time in the ruins, you missed human movies. You could not complain though, there was a popular celebrity among the monsters that filled your day with entertainment. His dances and all of the energy he put into the show made everyone go crazy. The reason you were so thrilled was not only the movie, but the tiny probability of Mettaton making his appeareance on this very same night! Alphys had invited him, but it was getting late.

"May I?" Undyne asked taking the movie from her girlfriend's hands.

"If there is anything interesting... wake me up." Said Sans opening his eye for one second before falling asleep again.

"Wait!" You stopped her from putting the CD inside the rusty player.

"What?" She sounded angry from the way she spit that word.

"The snacks are not ready yet!" With that excuse you rushed into Papyrus' kitchen to see if there was something else to prepare.

"(Y/N)!" Papyrus happily smiled when you appeared through the door. You hugged his waist from behind and watched how he carefully cut some sandwiches in skull shapes. Luckily, there was still a lot to prepare.

"Need a hand?" You took a knife and copied his movements.

"THAT'S NOT BAD, (Y/N)!" He clapped his hands emitting a bony sound. "NOW CUT 298 MORE AND WE'LL BE DONE!"

"Papyrus..." You placed your hands on his cheeks trying to bring him back to reality. "It's just you, Undyne, Alphys, Sans and me... and maybe Mettaton. I'm not sure if he can eat, though. So, we won't need that much food."

"IS 183 A REASONABLE NUMBER?"

"Let's make 10 more sandwiches, okay?" You softly grasped his cheek as you looked at the pile of sandwiches he already made.

"ALRIGHT!" Papyrus quickly listened to your demands and placed the cheese on each slice of bread. You repeated the same thing with the slices of pickles for the eye sockets of the bread craneum. Looking at the watch of the kitchen, there was still time for Mettaton to come before you finished the last 10 sandwiches. However, as time passed, you grew more impatient.

"Is he coming?" You raised your eyebrows as you watched the tall skeleton open an XL bag of extra crispy chips and pour it all into a small bowl. Helping him prepare the snacks for your guests was just an excuse to give Mettaton some extra time.

"WHO?" Papyrus opened his mouth confused by your question.

"Mettaton."

"I DON'T KNOW, (Y/N)!" The skeleton sounded almost ofended by your question.

"He hasn't answered Alphys' text and it's already past 9. I don't think he's coming..." You sounded resigned as you said that.

"IF HE WANTED TO COME HE WOULD ALREADY BE HERE!" He had a point.

"You're right, Papyrus..." Despite of the hopes you had, it was not likely for him to show up.

"Have you finished those sandwiches? I'm hungry." Sans made his appearence.

"JUST WAIT A MINUTE, BROTHER. THEY ARE ALMOST READY!" Papyrus answered as calmly as he could.

"Ok, ok..." Sans took some of the chips that had fallen from the bowl to his mouth and then walked to the fridge. "We will need some drinks with all of this food." He took a look into the refrigerator and saw nothing but a can of sweet cherry soda. "Can you get more soda? We are out of drinks." Sans said as he took the last can of soda and opened it in front of you.

"Hey, that was mine you fucking bonehead!"

"You can always buy more." You placed your hands around his neck as if you were going to choke him. He chuckled in return and softly moved your hands away from him.

...

"Acid fruit explossion... orange juice... sweet cherry soda... black boba tea... mew mew drink..." You rewatched the shopping list as you held all of the drinks in one arm. On your way to pay for the groceries you found a familiar man waiting in line putting some similar drinks into a tote bag. The man was no other than Mettaton himself. In metal and wires. He was standing there like a diva in a bright pink fur coat and some sunglasess for a bit of incognito mode. As you placed all of the drinks on the counter he took notice of your existence. He lifted his pink tinted glasses to check you out.

"Oh, hi... (Y/n), right?" He asked with a grin on his face. You didn't know how he knew your name. Maybe Alphys had talked to him about you?

"Yes, that's me!" You wanted to keep making eye contact with him, but you had to break it in order to pay for your drinks.

"I hope I'm not too late for the movie night. I wanted to make it up with some drinks and snacks so you guys would not be angry with me..." He explained and you nodded still amazed that you were there in front of the guy you saw on TV. As you two made your way out of the supermarket, he took two long cans of coconut water and offered you one.

"Cheers!" He said in a humorous way before taking a sip from his can. On the way back, you managed to exchange some words with him. Nothing meaningful, but it made you feel more comfortable in his presence. Outside of the TV he was a humble and caring guy. You learned that Mettaton was a big fan of the human traditions, that's why his hotel had so much references to your world (even if some of them did not match reality). You missed some of the things you left up there. Nevertheless, you had built a strong community with amazing people and you could say you enjoyed everything about the life in the underground (except for the vitamin D deficiency).

...

"Finally!" Sans exclaimed as he opened the door for you and took the bag you were carrying. He hadn't seen Mettaton who was right behind you.

"Hi, darling!" Mettaton took off his glasses and leaned over to give Sans a tender hug. The short skeleton patted his back in return.

"METTAAAAAAAAA!" Alphys shouted from the living room as she ran towards Mettaton. Their hug lasted longer as Alphys and him hadn't seen in a long time. Mettaton parted when his back started to hurt. He was still sore from yesterday's amazing dance show.

"HELLO, FRIEND!" Papyrus happily hugged Mettaton.

"Darling!" Mettaton gave him a peck on his cheek which made him blush. There was so much affection going on. So much you wished you hadn't gone to the grocery shop so you could receive some. The last one to get hugged was Undyne, it was short but seen from your perspective it made you envious. Next time Sans was getting the drinks.

"(Y/N), I HAVE A MISSION FOR YOU!" Papyrus caught you attention by placing a hand on your shoulder. He needed you to help him get all the snacks on the table. You quickly accepted the mission and saluted him like a soldier to his general. Once you arrived to the kitchen you saw an even bigger pile of sandwiches.

"Did you make more sandwiches?" You asked even if you already knew the answer.

"I PREPARED A 100 MORE, JUST LIKE YOU WANTED!" You shrugged it off and took the giantic tray of skeleton sandwiches with both hands. In order to arrive to the living room you had to walk very slowly. You didn't want to cause a mess after all the effort he had put into those sandwiches.

"Careful!" You said loudly so no one would get in your way. Mettaton appeared in front of you and placed his hands near yours to help you with the tray. You could feel a metallic finger softly stroke against the side of your hand. Even if it was unintentional, it made you blush.

"Are you expecting more guests?" Mettaton asked crocking his neck as the pile of sandwiches was blocking his view.

"No. It seems that Papyrus doesn't want us to be hungry." You both laughed and placed the tray in the center of the wooden table. Mettaton sat confortably on the sofa, not so far from Sans. He left a space in between for you to sit in.

"Where are you going, dear?" The robot asked confused as he patted the empty space he left for you.

"Oh, there is more!"

"More???" He exclaimed surprised standing up again to help you.

"Don't worry, it's not that much. I can handle it." As you walked away, Alphys noticed that Mettaton was watching you. Containing her laughter, she decided to tease him about it. To her surpirse, the robot confidently asked if you were single. Alphys quickly left her girlfriend's side to sit next to Mettaton and sip in the gossip.

"What? I like them. Is that a big deal?" Mettaton raised an eyebrow confused as Alphys covered her mouth and giggled.

"N-No!" She held back her excitement.

"Can you answer the question, darling? Yes or no?" Mettaton brought his face closer to Alphys' waiting for an answer.

"I'm sorry! W-When I get excited... I... I... cannot contain my la-" As the doctor was not colaborating, he decided to shake her abruptly.

"STOP IT! YES, THEY ARE SINGLE. RELEASE HER RIGHT NOW!" Undyne stood up to defend her girlfriend and Mettaton quickly let her go. He sat Alphys and dusted off her shoulders as an apology. With a polite smile on his face, they continued talking.

"Are you interested in going on a... d-date with them?" This conversation felt like a new Mad Mew Mew movie release for Alphys.

"I'm not sure if you are their type..." Undyne scratched her shiny forehead as she tought about you two.

"What's even their type?" Sans woke up to listen to the gossip.

"Might be humans. They are a human after all..." Undyne felt proud with her point.

"B-But... there are no humans in here. Aaaaaaand... Mettaton has the resemblance of a human!" The doctor explained her theory with no conviction.

"Looks like you are stuck in a love circuit!" Sans tried to make everyone laugh with his pun but it did not work. No one laughed. "Didn't you guys like my 'byte' sized joke?" Still no laughs.

"No!" Undyne said directly. "Anyway... You two don't have much in common. Look at (Y/n)! They spend their time on the internet like a weird lo-" Undyne stopped talking when she noticed her girlfriend was crossing her arms.

"Well, you can always give it a try. Take Alphys and Undyne as an example of an incompatible couple who is still together!" Sans laughed on his own.

"YOU'RE GOING TO REGRET YOUR WORDS!" Undyne exclaimed ofended throwing a pillow onto his face. Sans hugged the pillow tightly to his chest and fell asleep again. "Don't listen to him. You have to date that nerd. Nerds are the best partners!"

"Yeah, I think they will l-like you." Alphys muttered and blushed at what her girlfriend words.

"Thanks, beauties! I'll give it a try and see where it goes." Right when he finished thanking them Papyrus and you appeared through the door with more snacks. After placing the chips on the table, the great Papyrus decided to sit on the floor. You decided to do the same but Alphys stood up and offered you her place right next to Mettaton.

"Y-You c-can sit in here i-if you want to (Y/n)! I w-was sitting with U-Undyne and... uh I w-was h-here because... ugh... well... I..." Her face was getting sweaty. She didn't know how to finish the sentence.

"Sandwich!" Undyne saved her. "She wanted a sandwich. Hungry. Yes." Undyne moved her eyes from side to side and hugged Alphys tightly to her chest. Now that there was an empty seat, you happily took it. Despite of the terrible secret savers Mettaton had, you had no clue of his interest towards you.

"GIVE ME THE MOVIE!" Papyrus ordered as he quickly inserted the disk in the slot. Once he played all the necessary buttons, the movie started. It was from a human director you did not know anything about. Everyone was super invested in the first minutes of the movie, but as time passed, the movie was not getting any better. The only thing that kept you awake was the ocassional comentaries Mettaton made to say how we would make the movie more interesting. Despite of his silly ideas, you would kill to see that on the screen. The review you made was clear, it deserved to be in the garbage where the girls found it. The others made some non verbal feedback. For example, Papyrus went to his bedroom to play some games on his computer. After all day cooking, he had a well deserved rest and he could not stand boring actors. Sans slept through the entire movie and left to his bedroom to continue once it ended. The girls would not stop cuddling to avoid watching the movie. They also congratulated Mettaton for the great work in his shows.

"You know what was good about this movie? It made me grateful for being trapped in the underground." Undyne was honest.

"The animes are good though." Alphys tried to soften it up as she put on her winter jacket.

"Well, not all human movies are like this. Right, (Y/n)?" Mettaton tried to defend you as if you had created that monstruosity (in the bad sense of the word).

"We have (favourite movie). So, yes." You scratched you arm and walked with everyone to the front door.

"My uber will be here soon, darling. It was nice to meet you finally." He bended slightly and extended his arms to give you a tender hug. His hug was tight so you could not move and wrap your arms around his body. Despite not being able to breath, you enjoyed every second of it. In his robotic form, he was rough and did not control his strength, but somehow his hug made your heart warm.

The hug was soon interrupted by Alphys and Undyne who were leaving through the door. It was just Mettaton and you now. As the uber was still on his way, you waited with him on the porch. Even if it was dark outside, you could still see his features. He rested his back against the wooden wall of the house and checked his phone to see the hour.

"I didn't know there were uber drivers in here too."

"Well, there are no uber drivers. It's just one of my employees (BurgerPants)." He explained with a smile.

"Hey, Mettaton." That caught his attention. "I hope to see you again soon." The only reason you confesed your desire to meet him again was because you saw a car approaching from the distance. You even started waving at him like an idiot.

"Darling, that's not my car."

"Oh..." You fidgeted the awkwarness away with the lace of your sweatshirt.

"And I would love to see you again too." He brused a synthetic strand of hair over his ear. "You can come to my show anytime. I'll get you front row seats."

"That would be great..." Now you were the one brushing a strand of hair over your ear.

"Hey, I mean it. I would love to see you again, darling." You weren't sure what to answer. But you did not have to. You smiled nervously and stayed still as you were not believing any of this was happening. Mettaton's fingers softly trailed down your check. Ending with a soft brush of his thumb in your chin. "Can I kiss you?" That caught you off of guard. You could see his eyes scanning your lips, waiting patiently for an answer. Waiting for permission. The answer he was waiting did not arrive as expected. However, you approached your fingers to his lips to know how they felt like first in order to decide wheter you kiss them or not. Even if you could not resist yourself from kissing him, you wanted to tease him a little bit. Just to see how he would handle it. How he would react to your teasing.

"Yes." You hummed and pressed your lips on his softly.

#undertale #mettaton #papyrus #undertale fanfiction #mettaton x reader #undyne #alphys #sans undertale #sans #let papyrus say fuck day

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bomberqueen17 · 1 month ago

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doings

so. I'm home from the farm and now i have to yet again rearrange a bunch of my house. cut for wittering about personal stuff.

Dude's company laid off most of his team a while back, and as a result, decided it was a bit silly to keep renting office space for now just him and one other guy to come into some of the time. Dude genuinely did go in four days a week, but he had to agree it was really pretty dumb to rent an entire office suite for him to sit in sometimes.

the company didn't want any of the furnishings. they wanted some of the networking equipment, but-- the previous company, before it was acquired, had bought most of the office furniture. this company didn't care about it. so they sent dude one of those big foam-padded locking hard-sided cases to load the networking equipment into, and told him to leave behind whatever he didn't want in that office, and they'd negotiate with the landlord about disposing of it. (This is normal; when they moved into that suite, under the previous company, the previous tenants had abandoned it full of furniture and garbage, and dude's folks had just picked out what of the garbage they felt they could use-- mostly, chairs-- and the landlord cleared out the rest.)

Dude of course asked his former coworkers if any of them wanted their desks or chairs. One of them is kind of a hoarder, so he actually rented a Uhaul to get the desks out-- they were super nice work tables actually, very large and heavy, and there were eight. I wanted one, and he was perfectly happy to drop one of them off in our garage, and didn't even want us to reimburse him for part of the Uhaul. He has a use for two more, and the other five are just... in a storage unit somewhere.... if you need a really nice workbench lmk i know a guy who has some. LOL.

(No they're SUCH a pain in the ass to move.)

So anyway yesterday was the day Dude had agreed with the landlord he'd be clearing out the space and turning over the keys. he was going to do it by himself, but I was like.... how are you gonna turn in the parking pass and then get your car out of the garage it's in? well he'd have to pay for parking someplace. hmmm no. and like.... some of that shit is heavy. no.

so I went in with him. I cleaned the fridge really thoroughly, went through the kitchen cabinets and threw out garbage etc., while he took down all the networking equipment and wrapped it all in bubble wrap and put it in the giant hard case.

there wasn't enough packing material. here my years of expertise working in the shipping department of a camera store came into play. We wound up using whole clean rolls of paper towels to fill in around the sides of the case, and then could close it and know everything in it was held firmly and would not rattle.

He inventoried the chairs. Two were still the original expensive Steelcase chairs the first company had bought them, so we took those. There was a really sturdy folding table with adjustable heights that I insisted we take. And then there were the rest of the rolls of (brand-name!!) paper towels, and assorted other things that I thought we'd use. We put all the garbage into a pile near the door for the custodial staff, making sure to put anything that was *not* garbage far away so it wasn't ambiguous. There were a number of large monitors and things around that we had no use for, so we left them. I threw out empty packaging where i found it, and broken power adapters, but left a box of assorted power cords and other cables. We left the whiteboards, markers, and erasers. Left the dish soap, left the clean dishes and wire rack that held them. I threw out most of the huge pile of takeout utensils that had been accumulated, but left a small curated selection including a set of metal utensils someone had obviously brought in from home and abandoned.

It was pouring rain, but we wheeled everything out balanced on the office chairs all down the block in the rain, and went out for pho on the way home. And now we have several nice office chairs and I'm going to throw out my two worst antique-salvage ones that don't roll, once I decide which are my worst two.

And that folding table is going to hold a sewing machine, because I had been using the desk in our home office on the days when Dude was going in to the office, and I obviously can't do that anymore.

I'm also trying like heck to clear out one sorta quadrant of the basement to fit the work table (it was really never ideal as a desk, adjustable-height to Not Quite Low Enough, and it's 30" deep but also 96" long which is ridiculous). I want it as a counter-height workspace for cutting fabric, although I'd prefer something 36" wide.... but it'll do... but that means I need to clear out a bunch of stuff and make room and....

well I seem somewhere to have lost my ability to sort things. I was never great at it, and by now it's just. Gone. Idon't know how to determine what items go together. I'm great at organizing a work kit-- my purse for example, every single item in it has a designated spot and that's fantastic and i am always prepared with the things I need in my purse. My car, I made a seat-back organizer and it works fantastically well and holds every thing I need in it and I have now several times saved the day because i knew right where The THing was.

But that's notably not sorting. I can organize, but i can't sort. I need to distinguish among all these things and put them into large storage containers so that I can later retrieve individual items from larger containers. I don't know what category the items are. All the helpful advice people give me about how to organize things, how to tidy a space, involve doing some kind of sorting. I can't sort things. Poeple are like "just pick one thing you know needs to go X and do it!" and i'm like. That's sorting! That is sorting. I don't know how to sort. I can't categorize items. i can only interact with them individually. "This is a thing I will need. This is a thing I will not." That's sorting. I can make like, one decision like that in a day, and even that I will question. Making piles of objects by category means I have a one-object-deep layer over my entire work surface within a short period of time, and then I take everything I took out of the box to sort, shrug, sweep it back into the box, and give up, having achieved literally nothing except for having wasted the entire time I spent working on it. So all the "can't you just" advice people give me is Not Helpful and unfortunately I am all out of the grace to appreciate the sentiment behind it, which is nobody's fault but is also the incontrovertible truth.

So if you have advice, maybe don't, unless you have a good way to like, reconceptualize the entire exercise, which I have not thought of, and which is NOT "throw it all out", thanks, I don't need that one either and I won't be nice about it. FYI.

I have attempted to recognize things that are actual garbage, and discard them, but that's about as clever as I can manage to be. SO it's a work in progress and it's going slower than I want and mostly, it's just me taking piles and moving them to a different area of the basement, thereby rendering that part of the basement unusable. Blergh.

But if i can get this table into position, then I will have a work surface, and incidentally will have rendered that whole area of the basement, which is lined with huge wire shelves I purchased intending to organize myself with and then never managed to do so and instead filled with unsorted junk, accessible, and so if I ever find either medication that helps me, or a friend to help me, or a new brain lying around somewhere that I can co-opt and use, I will be able to (in fantasy cuckoo-land) organize some of this junk onto those shelves. I can hope. And then it would be a usable workspace. With a nice work table. Isn't that a compelling fantasy???

I've covered the card tables I was using to cut fabric on with boxes in the meantime, meaning I can't work on any sewing projects, but the card tables were at a height such that I could spend about seven to eight minutes cutting fabric on them and then be crippled with crunchy lower back pain for twelve hours, so let's be real here I was not getting a whole lot done with that setup anyway.

Anyway the other new challenge is that both dude and i need to come up with some kind of schedule for our days because we're both cooped up fairly unstructured in this house and it's got to be something or we'll both lose our minds.

#about the author #home life #wfh blues #organizing #adhd or whatever

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applejuicebegood · 11 months ago

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HELLO!!! It is I! I’ve been thinking… if you’d be able to do an Irish!fem!reader who has all these Irish dancing trophies and the little dresses and shoes from when she was small, cuz I still do 😭, and reader gets so embarrassed because she can’t do it anymore and the boys insist on doing the walls of limerick with her!!!! Thank you!!!!

Platonic!141 x Reader - Sweet Music

Fem!Reader

A/N: OK, I am actually so fucking sorry this took forever. I was caught up with mock exams but they are over! And I shall be writing more! I had alot of fun writing this even tho I didn't do ur ask justice. I really hope that you enjoy it tho Teddy! Thank you for being the actual best and being so patient and kind! Masterlist

Cw: Brief mentions of alcohol, Reader has a dog Word Count: 1624

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

‘You got the last box?’

‘Yea.. yes! Don’t worry’ You struggled to grip the dusty cardboard against your body, your foot catching your ankle on the last step of the attic later. Earlier that day, you had asked Kyle to help with the daunting task of breaking open your sealed off attic and clearing it for storage of your military gear. Getting rid of whatever your mother had decided what was best to collect and hoard before she left. You both were able to clear out the majority of the space that afternoon, choking on the kicked up dust and cobwebs. You had piled the boxes in your living room, circling your couch and chairs. You dog, Jax, strutted around the constructed towers, cautiously bending his head to sniff the stale cardboard. As you huffed the final box atop a stack that was starting to bleed into your kitchen, both you and Gaz admired your efforts with your hands resting on your hips. ‘You wanna crack em’ open?’ ‘Let me get the wine first’ You could hear Kyle snicker behind you as you made your way to the kitchen. Returning with two glasses and one of your more expensive bottles of chilled red in hand, you settled yourself on the carpeted floor. Your head resting against the seated cushion of the couch. You handed Gaz the bottles and glasses and in trade he handed you a box cutter. The echo of the wine filling the glasses was drowned by the blade of your knife ripping through the packaging tape lining the top of the box settled in front of you. Gaz did the same with a pair of kitchen scissors. You took a generous swig of your glass before diving your hands into the brown packing paper. Jax had settled his head on Kyle’s thighs, watching him unwrap a picture frame, starting a pile of garbage packing paper to be burned in your wood stove. ‘Oh-hoo.. What’s this?’ You lifted your head from the unwrapped shot-glasses to see that Gaz held a small rusted golden plaque in his hands. Your name scrawled in chipped cursive across the bottom of the frame. ‘Holy, haven’t seen that in forever. This must be my old dancing stuff’ ‘Wha- you did dance?’ ‘Surprised are you? Mom signed me up for it to get me outta the house.. I only continued with it cause’ Nan wanted me to get closer to my “gaelic roots” as she put it’

You scooted over to sit next to him, your hand instinctively finding Jax’s ears to scratch behind. You reached into the box and pulled out a bound pile of plaid. Undoing the twine, you unfolded a deep green plaid skirt, the seam stitched golden by your grandmother's hand. You ran your fingers down the trailing glint, it was as if you could feel your grandmother's touch holding down the fabric as she delicately thred it through her sewing machine. You could hear her sighs and coo’s of approval as you stumbled out of your bedroom, wearing the skirt for the first time. ‘So! Keep or give away?’ Kyle said before taking a swig of his own wine. He pulled another box closer to him, a small cloud of dust kicking up from his scissors gilding across the cardboard.

‘Keep for now, might get rid of the trophies but I can gives the dresses to Emi’ ‘She’d really like that’ Kyle said smiling back at you, his rich chocolate eyes highlighted in the early evening sun. You held the small dress close to your chest for a moment before setting it beside you, in the now ‘keep’ pile.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

You could feel the cold of the metal seat through the lining of your tactical pants. The weight of your combat vest held you down against the bench. It was cold, the air thick with the smell of gasoline and salt. The warm brush of your lieutenant's arm against the side of yours was the only thing reminding you that there would be a bed and a warm meal to hopefully return too after this mission. It was just you and Simon on the installed benches in the transport plane, the rest of the squad just offloading moments before. ‘Leave is com’in up.. plans?’ Simon's thick, graveled baritone cut through your coms, bringing you back into the familiar state of heightened awareness.

‘Oh.. umm.. Just gunna head back home.. Emi has a dance recital ‘week before Christmas and Mari wants me to drive her north for a weekend with her girlfriend, I told her no but she’s been begging me over the phone so-’ ‘Friends?’ Simon asked, looking over at you. You glanced up at his eyes, darkened and blood-shot. The deep onset of the pale skull mask making them appear blended into the dirtied black fabric of the hood. ‘No.. my sisters, I thought I told you- hold on’ You smiled as you reached around and dug out from a small back pocket in your vest a chipped golden photo case. Excitement brewed within you at the chance to discuss your little family. Clicking it open and holding it up for Simon, he held it between his large gloved fingers. You focused back on his eyes, watching as they looked over the photos set into the sides of the case. The first being a blurred still of Mari holding your infant sister a few days after she was born. You were able to catch her mid laugh, her smile drawn tight, deepening her dimpled cheeks. Emi was swaddled in her lap, her soft chubby cheeks poking out from the quilted blanket she was wrapped in. The second photo was an old-black and white still of your grandmother when she was younger, her hair swooped elegantly over her forehead. It was the same photo that was kept in your grandfather's wallet, given to you after he passed. Behind it was a small swath of deep green plaid fabric. Simon ran his thumb over the black crossing lines, looking back to you with confusion. ‘Oh.. that umm.. Was a piece of one of my dancing dresses.. Nan made them for me and.. I don’t know, keeping it with me is a sort of reminder I guess’ You say taking the golden frame back from him, shutting it with a click. You rubbed your thumb over the scratches and dents in the metal, a testament to the many trips the case took with you throughout your multiple deployments and missions. ‘Dancing?’ ‘Ha… yea.. Mom umm.. She had me do it throughout primary’ ‘I.. wasn’t expecting that..’ Simon mumbles, shifting on the metal bench. ‘What? Do I not look like a child dance prodigy?’ You say, nudging his arm with your elbow. ‘No just… god.. cannot picture you.. I mean-’ You tried to hold back the ripple of amusement from your lips, watching the metaphorical gears turn in Simon's head. He quickly glanced back at you, confirming your clear enjoyment in his confusion. You leaned your head back against the metal wall, thumbing the photo case before tucking it back into the pocket of your vest. It was within these small moments of reprieve from tactical expectations that you wished you could put Simon, and the rest of your team's photo within the case alongside your sisters.

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish

‘Johnny! Food’s here!’ You call up from your living room, placing the hot paper bags on the low coffee table. You expected to hear his harsh footsteps down the creaking wooden stairs. Yet, only the sound of the dimmed slow piano crackling from your record player and the high-pitched thrum of late evening summer crickets filled the air. ‘Johnny!’ You shouted, unpacking the food. ‘Where..? God..’ You groaned, looking towards the hallway stairwell. You trudged up the stairs, two at a time. Your feet bouncing down the carpeted hallway, the dark glow of the evening sunset casting a dim glow from the hallway window. ‘John..?’ You said, poking your head into one of the spare bedrooms. ‘In here!’ Relief broke in your chest like the shell of an egg as you heard your sergeant's rough voice from your bedroom. You hadn’t been able to yet undo the familiar anxiety that comes with the lack of response from your teammates, an anxiety bred from being their stand-by medic.

You pushed open your bedroom door, the hinges squeaking. You had stopped using this room as yours a long time ago. It was now more a storage shed for your sister's old clothes and your military gear. You found John standing by an old dresser, dusty plaques and trophies covering the top of the mahogany wood. You watched as John held one of the frames in his large scarred hand. ‘What did ya find?’ You ask, standing by his shoulder while stuffing your hands in your pockets. ‘You should've told me you did dance’ He said, placing the frame back down. The picture he was looking at was an old, sunbleached still of you as a child, standing in a plaid dress next to your grandmother who was holding your then infant sister. Your smile held a few dark spots as you had just started losing your baby teeth.

‘Why’s that?’ You say, picking up another photo, you used the sleeve of your sweater to rub the dust from the shiny metal frame. ‘Well because my gran’ forced me into it too’ ‘Shut up’ You say, placing the cleaned frame back down with a thump. ‘Im serious, once we fly up with Roach, me’ sister’ll show you the photos’ ‘That is.. I never would have guessed’ ‘Can say the same thing for you Bonnie’

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godesssiri · 3 months ago

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I wanted to give some advice to people who are near enough to help areas affected by the recent hurricanes and haven't been affected themselves. I live in New Zealand and last year my home town was devastated by Cyclone Gabrielle, I live 4 hours away and was organizing to get things in to people who needed them.

Look on Facebook. Groups will be organizing and sharing information about what donations are needed and where to bring them to. A determined middle-aged woman will be helping hundreds of people out of her garage or whatever empty space she's been able to sweet-talk or brow-beat some business man into loaning her.

Donate material goods that are actually needed right now. It's tempting to go 'I've got no money but I can clean out my wardrobe and give stuff'. Please don't. I saw several charities turning stuff away because SO MUCH had been dumped on them.

Right now things that you can actually give from your own homes if you have them to give or if you can appeal to your community:

Big and tall men's clothing, they'll get loads of women's and kids stuff but there will be a shortage of larger men's clothes so if you are a larger man or know one you can hit up, they'll be grateful.

Sturdy footwear, particularly rubber boots - they've got a lot of mud to slog through and they need to protect their feet.

Protective clothing, work gloves, hard hats, high vis gear.

Camping lights, head-lights, solar-lights. If they're without power these are all much safer than candles.

Monitor local Facebook groups and see if they're appealing for anything in particular.

In a few months to a year or so they're going to need everything else so if you want to help but all you've got to give is your old fridge or a pile of blankets then just hold off until people are asking for those things. Once they have a safe place to live they'll need help filling it. Keep following any Facebook groups that form and be prepared to help later.

If you can buy things to take in or get local businesses to donate or however you go about providing new things, stuff that's gonna be really helpful right now:

Prepacked food that's easy to heat up on a barbeque or camp stove. Pouches, meals in a can, just add boiling water, anything you'd take camping. Ingredients aren't really helpful right now for people who are using all their energy to survive and don't have extra to make a meal.

Milk powder. You can make up just as much as you need and don't need to worry about refrigerating it.

Bottled water.

Baby formula.

Diapers

Toilet-paper

Baby wipes. The wastewater systems will be a mess so they're probably being advised to avoid showering even if they have running water. Baby wipes are a good way to keep reasonably clean.

Clorox wipes or similar products. Just as they're having trouble keeping themselves clean it's also a challenge to keep their environment clean.

Heavy duty garbage bags. There's a lot of spoiled food, soaked/rotting paper/fabric/building materials, that need to be contained until they can be gotten rid of. Landfill is likely affected so the best they'll be able to do is seal it up in heavy duty plastic until there's somewhere they can dump it.

Camp stove gas canisters

Batteries

Pet food

Tortillas. They keep longer than leavened bread, there's a million things you can do with them, and they're way more compact for transport. (When we had the car full to the roof with stuff we were taking in to our family, I was so proud when I realized we could transport 300 tortillas in the spaces under the driver's and passenger's seats.)

Over the counter meds - there'll be lots of people doing work that's making them very sore. Also basic first aid stuff, it'd be a bitch if you survived the hurricane uninjured only to end up with an infection that you got from a splinter while cleaning up.

If you're delivering things yourself then avoid staying in the area for too long unless you're actually taking part in the clean up. Take everything that you'll need while you're there. When you leave offer to take trash out with you.

People who've been through a disaster like this will need help long term so if you can't help right now don't feel bad, keep an eye on the situation and eventually something will come up that you can help with.

#hurricane milton #hurricane helene #carolina hurricanes

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owlespresso · 5 months ago

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scarlet venom to keep in jam jars sometimes you feel like an ant beneath his gaze.

Vil makes a face at the red stains on your hands and upper arms. You laugh at the way his nose wrinkles. The tart scent of fresh cherry fills the humble Ramshackle kitchen, the oven thrummed to life behind you.

“You don’t pit a whole batch of cherries without making a little bit of a mess,” you tell him with a crooked smile. You don’t have a pitter, so you’ve opted to do it with your bare (and meticulously cleaned) hands. You gently hold each morsel by the stem to squeeze each pit out. A growing pile of them sits atop several layers of paper towel to the side of your cutting board. You’re almost done with this batch. Only two more to go. “What’re you making that face for? It’ll wash right off.”

“You could have put on some gloves,” he retorts. Reaching over, he pinches the space below your thumb between forefinger and thumb, one of the only unblemished parts of your hand. He lifts your hand to inspect it with a pitched brow, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “This will take days to wash out, and all to make something you could have bought from the school store.” He relinquishes you, still wearing a dour pout.

“It’s fresher when you make it yourself,” you tut. “And more satisfying.”

“That may be true, but I need you pristine for tomorrow’s luncheon. You agreed to attend as my plus one, remember?” Vil gives you a pointed look.

Ah, right. Something about a fancy meal with his castmates on this upcoming project. You weren’t sure if it was actually a movie. In your defense, Vil always seems to have a dozen or more projects on his plate at any given time, and you tend to promise him whatever he wants as soon as he asks for it. How could you say “no” to that prying glare and air of innate superiority?

“Y-Yeah, of course! Don’t worry. These hands’ll be clean as a whistle in time for tomorrow!” you assure him, hoping he doesn’t catch the slight tremble in your chipper chirp. He definitely does not believe you, and he doesn’t do you the service of pretending to. Not even for a second.

“Hm. I should hope so,” he says, looking down his nose at you, lips set in a stern expression that says “you had better”.

You figured he would leave, but he lingers in your kitchen, looking completely and utterly out of place. A peacock among a group of hens. A marble statue in the middle of a garbage dump. A somewhat peaceable silence lingers as you finish pitting the cherries, dropping each one into a pot above the stove. The recipe is simple. All it calls for is cherries, lemon juice and water over a burner. It’s a wonder, you think, how a simple three ingredients can make something so delicious.

Well, your kitchen isn’t a dump. You had worked hard to forge it into what it is now. You tore out those floorboards with your own hands, gutted the cabinets and sinks and slotted new ones in with trembling hands and assistance from a select few friends. Jack and Deuce, in particular, had been indispensable during the project. Your kitchen, you realize as you stir the pot, is a mark of pride and hard work.

Hard work that will be rendered meaningless once you find a way home. What will become of Ramshackle once you are gone? Will they once again shutter the windows and let nature reclaim its aged wood and stone?

Vil says your name, then, hardly an inch from your ear. You jolt, spatula clattering against the edge of the pot. He’s leaned up against the counter, closer than he’d been before.

“W-What is it?” you stammer. Your palm presses flat to your chest in an attempt to soothe the erratic thrumming of your heart, jumpstarted by the brief jolt of adrenaline.

“I’ve been calling you for the past minute, dear,” Vil murmurs quietly. The dulcet tone of his voice soothes your animal panic. There is no threat here, the thalamus concludes, whispering the amygdala back to sweet sleep.

“Sorry, I just…” What do you tell him? That you’re plagued by the knowledge that all you build will one day be rendered to ash? That the steady march of time has already always worried you, but your limited time here only makes the dread worse?

“I wonder where you go, sometimes,” Vil murmurs quietly. He grasps your chin delicately, cups it between forefinger and thumb–and the thoughts stop. “You get the most far away look in your eyes, and no matter how much I call out to you, you don’t seem to hear until I’m right in front of you.”

“I just get lost in thought,” you mumble, for lack of anything better to say. Your brain stalls out, thoughts jumbled as you desperately reach for a more eloquent reply. You find none, of course, made entirely stupid by the mere touch of his hand. The silken skin of his hand so perilously close to your throat. He could feel the rabbit wild thrum of your pulse if they slid barely a few inches lower. You swallow, and his eyes dart down to track the motion. Pinpoint reaction like a predator prepared to pounce.

“And you also get lost in crowds,” Vil replies wryly, breaking the tension.

That was one time, you want to argue, even if that one time resulted in him fervently trying to locate you amongst a throng of festival goers for the better part of an hour. Afterwards, he mandated a strict hand-holding policy that remains in effect to this day. You worry for his career. What’ll happen if he’s seen so close to you? Surely, he has legions of adoring fans who thrive off of imagining themselves on his arm. Will it hurt his image? Or his standing in the industry?

He doesn’t seem to be much bothered.

He delicately taps you on the nose, and you’re snapped from your winding train of thought. Probably for the better.

“Your spacing out has its charms, but not when you’re watching over a boiling pot,” he says crisply, and your eyes go wide, snapping back to the pot. Thankfully, it has not exploded or boiled over or congealed into one, solid mass in your absence. You doubt such a thing is possible–but if there’s one thing you know, it’s to never look away from your cooking.

“You’re the one distracting me,” you grouse. There is no bite behind it. Hardly even a bark.

You give the brewing jam another stir, finding the consistency a little too watery. You stare into the crimson mixture with a hawkish, searching gaze.

#vil schoenheit #tilted for twst

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jello-bbq · 2 years ago

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Near Death, Again

(Platonic! Tsu'tey x Avatar! Reader) (Platonic! Jake x Avatar! Reader)

Unwitting people find themselves sharing a fondness for the dreamwalker child. Mystery surrounds their injuries and the sleep from which they have not woken. (2.3k)

I am pulling this straight out of the garbage pile and making it all up. Does anyone actually like this. Also forget to mention that reader is like, 17-ish? To me at least, imagine them however you want. Blood and injury tw.

"I told you not to push too much, we could lose it! It could die!"

"What do you care!?"

"I spent millions of dollars on that little investment at least be fucking delicate!"

A small room, barely enough to sit in. The yelling reverberated over the concrete walls, unheard by the child who kept their hands over their ears. Even so, there could be no silence.

They felt as if every thought had a voice, and among the thousands that swarmed their head, each screamed at full volume. Suffocating. It felt suffocating.

The metal door creaked open, washing the small space with light and revealing the massacre. The source of the argument.

Blood spewed from the child's ears. From their mouth. From their eyes, unseeing as the red filled their vision.

"Look at it! It's bleeding everywhere, are you even sure it will survive the night?"

The child remained oblivious. Or maybe the thoughts just left no space for anything else to be recognized.

"Ma'am, I can assure you that it will survive. We've done a lot more brutal things-"

"Brutal! Do you think I swat a fly and call it brutality? I'm talking about it's survival, I have spent too much on this for it to fail. Don't push it."

"Well, fix it so it won't fail or don't push it? With all due respect, it's one or the other so just how much do you want this to succeed?"

The door shut again, enclosing the flood of crimson.

Barely a second is taken to consider the words. "Fine, fix it." Those final words rang through the air as the sound of footsteps fell away.

It would be hours before anyone would open the door again. Dragging the small, unconscious body, almost indiscernible with the blood wrapping it in different shades of red.

"How's it doing?"

"Still breathing, sir."

"Good, take it away."

After only a day of rest, they were taken again into the lab and ended up with the same fate. Bleeding onto the tiles with no space in their head to even feel hurt.

To that child, screams were not abnormal. In fact, more concern rose when there were no screams. How could there not be in a place so intent on practicing cruelty?

The sounds didn't bother them. That's all they were. Sounds. Ones they couldn't even connect to faces. The company took enough measures to ensure that but perhaps left the children in close enough quarters that the screams would serve to keep them in line. Who knows.

They certainly didn't. Why would they waste time thinking about such things when they could barely think for themselves?

Two sharp knocks on the door. The squeak of the metal flap. The slide of the tray against the tile. Those were the only sounds they cared for.

They stood from the cramped bed, which had barely been enough as a child. Even more so as they grew older. But that night, as they squeezed dry the plastic containing the same tasteless paste that had been served for years, the screaming suddenly sounded different.

It took a moment to realize why. These were not screams of children.

That night the sounds stopped. No knocks on the door. No tray of questionable food sliding in. No screams.

It didn't take long to realize what happened. They were abandoned. The screams that night had been of worry. And if they thought hard enough, they could remember some of the words.

'Found us', 'hide', 'leave those to die'.

Of course, 'those' pertained to them.

And to however many kids sat in locked cells in that long hallway.

Kids raised in the bunker alongside them. Bred in little tubes and nourished into willing war machines. Or they would have been, if the scientists could only get their experiments right.

They couldn't remember how long it took. How long they laid on that cold tile floor wishing that they were bleeding out instead of starving.

Then, the door creaked open.

They were pulled out of the cramped room that held their life. A gloved hand tugging at their arm harshly. Lights shining at their face. Blurred figures. The ever so present smell of blood. The ache of walking after being still for so long. The wish to be carried which couldn't be voiced.

Those were the things they could remember, nothing else. Not how they got to the RDA. Not how many children there were in the truck that brought them over. Not even how they ended up in a soft bed that didn't stink of blood.

The reason for it all?

The experiment program had been leaked. This resulted in the sudden abandonment. Someone in the bunker grew a conscience and spread it to the public, which caused outrage.

The rest ran before they could be caught. The whistleblower died for the crime of seeking justice. And the government had fucked up enough that they only found the bunker three days later.

Many of the younger children were dead by then.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

When they awoke, they didn't relish the soft bed. They instead felt the absence of blood, and it made theirs run cold.

The only explanation they could think of for the lack of the sharp smell was that it had yet to be introduced. And with them being the only one in the room, it could only be their blood that would end up spilt.

That thinking brought them to a situation. A knee on the back of a man's neck. His arms held tight in their shaking hands.

"Everything's okay, you're okay. You're fine." The man tried to be soothing, his voice sounding weird as half his face remained closely acquainted with the floor.

The tone only set off more alarms in their head, their knee coming down harsher. "Quiet."

The man didn't listen. "They're gone. Those scumbags that did all that to you and those kids, they're locked up. You're not in that bunker anymore."

"Quiet," they repeated.

The door slid open. They took advantage of the person's surprise and ran for it, not thinking of anything as they wove through the halls.

The experiments had come through, doing the work for them so they need not think for themselves.

But a failed test subject, barefoot and in a new environment, could only get so far.

They were back in the room in thirty minutes, proud at least of the injuries it took to get them back there.

The window wouldn't break. They tried it the moment the door shut. So they settled for hiding under the bed, a fallacy on their part as they couldn't run for the door fast enough when it opened.

"Kiddo?"

A man entered, the same one they pinned down the first time. They could only see the lower half of his legs, but they could tell he looked around the room before crouching.

They had half a mind to lunge at him then when he offered a smile. "Hey, no hard feelings about earlier. I get that you're scared and that's understandable." He only smiled brighter when they glared, furthering their confusion.

"I'll just-" he moved back, sitting against the wall opposite the bed. "I'll stay here if you don't mind."

They thought that was it, and went back to reviewing the building's blurry layout that they somehow pieced together from the brief stint outside.

"What's your name?"

No reply.

"How old are you?"

Silence.

The man sighed. He moved, they assumed to get up and get out but he instead lay down on his side, catching their eye. "Hi. My name's Tommy."

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

"They're gonna get through this," Jake told no one in particular, eating dinner alone in the empty cafeteria. He repeated that over and over in his head.

Sometimes it felt like the only thing he could think. Even though his lessons with Neytiri continued, he always found his way back to that one thought.

It felt bad enough not knowing anything. But not having anything to say felt worse.

He had to keep telling Neytiri that he didn't know why they weren't waking up.

Nobody knew why. Not the medical doctors. Or the science doctors. Or anyone.

He didn't understand. Especially when he wheeled himself over to their room. They looked fine. Like he could shake them awake.

"You're gonna wake up, right kid?"

They didn't answer him except with more of the same, uniform breathing.

Jake hated it at first. It reminded him of his days in the VA. Unable to do anything but listen to patients beside him who had it much worse. But now he realized that it at least meant they were alive. And he would take that over nothing.

He took the yogurt cup from his otherwise empty tray, placing it in the fridge, beside the others he'd saved up with every meal.

"You have to wake up."

He fell asleep in that room just like he did the three nights before, sitting by their bedside holding their hand.

°•°••°•°••°•°

Tsu'tey did much of the same. Though he himself needed to rest, he insisted on watching over their body. He knew that should they wake, it would be in their other body first but he snuck off to their tent anyway just in case.

So much so that the healers placed his bed in their tent, if only to no longer deal with coaxing him back to his tent whenever he went to theirs. Which was often.

He no longer joined the morning hunt. Or hunted at all. Spending all his time beside them instead.

"No changes?"

Someone pulled back the tent flap, allowing him a brief view of the outside. When did night fall?

"Nothing."

Zeyko nodded and began unwrapping the bandages as she did every night, changing them out for new ones.

She worked carefully.

As each layer slowly unraveled, her touch grew softer. Almost feather-like near their skin, as if one wrong move and they would break.

He never talked to Zeyko before the accident. Nothing that would count as a conversation anyway. Nods of acknowledgement, gestures of greeting, a grunt or two whenever she'd have to patch him up.

They were too different, and so they held a silent agreement. To not step over the line, to fulfill separate duties, to act with the barest friendliness only if needed but to not be friends.

An agreement that Tsu'tey had with many as he kept all at arm's length.

But now the two held a new agreement. Nothing that asked anything of either of them. Just an agreement. Unspoken, perhaps even unheard.

Both cared for the dreamwalker.

°•°••°•°••°•°••°•°

The dreamwalker in question could not have had a more fitting name. They were stuck in dreams. Walking amongst figments of imagination. Talking with memories. Walking. Walking. Walking.

Time didn't exist wherever they were, at least not in the binding way it did elsewhere.

They walked and walked. Never feeling tired. Never in the same place. Through memories that weren't theirs. And pasts that had occurred long before them.

"Why are you here, child?"

They didn't understand. It felt exactly like when their head couldn't keep up. A fuzzy feeling, like mold growing in their brain. The words began to make sense separately, slowly, understanding forming in the back of their mind as they continued walking.

Each step wakened them. Like their consciousness had spilled all over and now it had begun to creep back into the crevices of their being.

Again, they were asked. "What are you here for?"

They couldn't answer. But the question had them realizing they were running now, and all at once their thoughts came rushing back.

"What?"

Nothing.

For a second they feared they had imagined it.

"So you have awoken, you were in quite the deep sleep."

"Yes," they murmured, looking around. A forest. "Yes, I suppose I was."

They blinked, and they were in the mountains, floating over the trees.

"Where am I?"

"You are with me. You are safe."

Even without asking, a name tugged at their mind. They were in the forest again.

"Why am I here?"

"To learn, perhaps. You are an interesting one." They blinked again, opening their eyes to a river. "The path you have chosen, it will be hard."

"I haven't chosen any path." Another mountaintop.

The faceless voice smiled, they knew this in the way one knows things in dreams. A feeling, more than a thought or deduction. "You have chosen, stepping into danger for one of mine. He would have been welcomed home otherwise."

The world began to crumble, flickering like a light. The voice kept going, strangely calming, even as they began to fall. "You and Jake Sully, yes I think we can find a use for you. I will help you."

They fell continuously, knowing this even while hearing and feeling nothing. They were falling through the inky black.

It felt nice. Like laying in the sand and letting waves lap at your body.

The feeling was strange. They knew it didn't belong. Not with them.

This thought tugged at them. A rope tied around their waist, guiding their fall somewhere. As it did, they began to feel more things tugging at them. More and more. Until they were shooting through the ink.

The dark began to lift gradually.

Their eyes blinked open. All memory of what just happened began to fade. Like a word you know but cannot remember.

They blinked again, taking in their surroundings. A hospital room. Nighttime. Something beeping. They tried to stand, limbs moving in slow motion. They didn't realize their hand slipping from someone else's. Though they felt the warmth, brows furrowing as they wiggled their fingers.

It felt strange. Like they were in that moment between dreaming and awake. Everything felt strange.

Another movement caught their eye. A movement they couldn't control.

"Tommy?"

#avatar #jake x reader #tsu'tey x reader #james cameron avatar #dad Tsu'tey #i have no idea where this is going #avatar reader #Omaticaya #omatikaya #avatar x reader #avatar fanfiction #blood tw #injury tw #oNLY PLATONIC/FAMILIAL FEELS NOTHING ELSE

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dearmrsawyer · 1 year ago

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my GARDEN is DONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It took 2 years but we made it 🎉🎉🎉 its life story under the cut

last year i dug up all the roses that the previous owners of this house had planted in this space. I HATE ROSE PLANTS. They're VERMIN. It took me a year (interrupted by la niña) to finally get them all out because i had to dig so far down to remove as much root system as i could. i learned that after the first attempt at removing them, where they all simply grew back because i left too many roots in tact 🙃 due to continued la niña last summer i wasn't able to get the space all the way ready so i spent autumn weeding everything that grew in the rain, digging about a foot into the ground to remove as much old dirt (and more roots) as i could, and tidying up everything we'd dumped there while the space was disused. I had pictures of that stage in the process but i can't find them, just know it looked like a garbage dump hahaha. i got all that done right as the temperature started to drop so i laid out a bunch of tarps to minimise the number of weeds that would grow back over winter and waited.

and then! SPRING. I ordered the soil back in September, 8 cubic metres of it which was definitely more than i needed sdkjlgfdkj but how am i supposed to know what a cubic metre is 😅 i was SO excited when it arrived (first photo), quickly followed by 'oh god i need to move all of this myself.' thankfully we had great weather in september so i could use every free moment i had for two weeks shoveling it into our wheelbarrow and then wheeling it down to tip into the garden area (the conclusion of my work in photo 2 lol). It was only at that point that i was like oh boy okay i REALLY have too much soil here. i filled up every single pot i could find and i added some more dirt to to our citrus tree garden in the courtyard since the existing soil had settled by that point and could use a top up. it still felt like way more than i had planned to buy BUT i thought you know what would be good, i could create tiers to organise the vegetables by how deep their roots grow! i laid down a couple of layers of newspaper to deter anything from the existing dirt growing up into my new soil and then started flattening it out. when we first moved in here there was a tonne of random building material around that the previous owners left behind, and we never got rid of it because we figured a purpose would eventually arise. and my garden was it. i collected all the cement blocks and bricks down the side/behind the house, plus the random lattices that had been piled up where our yard meets the neighbour's, and a scrap of fence leftover from the one we put alongside our driveway last year. There were also heaps of random planks of wood, and some logs from a tree that we trimmed earlier in the year. and i used ALL of it (picture three).

Then a couple of weeks ago i finally got to plant my seeds :D (final product, final photo) the tall section up the back is for the deep root veges, so i've planted pumpkin and cucumber there. in the middle i've planted zucchini, cabbage, cauliflower, silverbeet, radish and green beans. and the shallowest area down the bottom has beetroot, celery, lettuce, broccoli and snow peas. also a passionfruit plant in the corner :) i've also scattered flower seeds all over as i've read that it helps to attract pollinators/insects that will eat other insects that want to eat my vegetables. i've put a couple of flowering herbs into pots down there too, and i marked where i planted everything with sticks so i can remember dskfdklj also i drew myself a map.

i'm so thrilled with it :') its such a good space and now it will be useful! there's a good chance some of my seeds won't sprout as they're a couple of years old, but some of them are new and anyway i don't care, whatever grows will grow and whatever doesn't i'll try again in autumn. its just so exciting to have a garden to tend again, i know that i need to be able to just put my hands in dirt sometimes, it is a very helpful outlet, and also will maybe save us grocery money \o/

#i love staring at it through the lounge room window #i go and stand there everyday and just look at it lol #im so proud of it and so excited its finally come together!!!#its feel so good to see a vision realised #tp

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sisterspooky1013 · 2 years ago

Text

How to Feel

Rated T | 1942 words | Read it here on AO3

CW for mention of suicidal ideation

Mulder sighs and rolls to his side, resting his cheek against the worn fabric of the couch cushion. It smells like sweat and mildew, and a little like his own unwashed ass. It smells like failure, which is fitting.

His eyes slowly drag around the remains of their home—the skeleton of a life they worked so hard to build. There are unnatural looking blank spaces all over the place, glaring at him like missing front teeth. Her favorite oversized armchair, that stupid little magazine rack she fell in love with at the flea market, a bucket whose sole purpose was to house umbrellas. Useless things. Unnecessary things. Things he never expected to miss.

Does he miss them? He notices their absence. They remind him that she is no longer here. That she won’t walk through the door at half-past six and drop her bag on the side table—which is also now gone—with a weary sigh. She won’t give him a disappointed glance as she goes to the kitchen to make herself dinner and then eats it in silence—alone—at the table. He hadn’t realized the way that her comings and goings marked the passing of time in his days until she was gone, and it all started to run together like the red T-shirt he put in with the whites.

He also notices that the laundry has begun to pile up.

“Do you even miss me?” she’d asked on the phone last week, her voice warbled with tears and hurt. Or it may have been yesterday, it’s hard to say. She’s not here to mark the passing of time for him anymore.

“Of course,” he’d said flatly, and the lurch of her wracking sob made him cringe.

He wishes he knew the right things to say, but it seems clear that in order to say the right things, he needs to feel the right things. He needs to feel guilty for the ways that he failed her. He needs to miss her so acutely that he finds the motivation to do the laundry and wash his ass. Once, he chartered a plane to Antarctica off nothing but a set of coordinates and the overwhelming desire to find out how her kiss tastes. More recently, she asked him to take the garbage out and he groaned as though she’d shot him (again). She took the garbage out herself.

He heaves himself up into a sitting position and feels the blood drain from his head. He stays like that for an indiscernible amount of time, staring at a perfectly circular clean spot on an otherwise dusty bookshelf. He tries to remember what was there before, what left the blank space. A vase, perhaps. Scully liked vases, especially when he filled them with flowers. It’s been a while since he did that. Years, probably.

It bothers him that he can’t remember. Every evening they’d sit here, watching TV or reading. Sometimes she’d slip her feet into his lap and nudge his balls with her heel, her own little subtle Scully come-on. More than a handful of times they made love right on the couch, too caught up to move to the bedroom. Hundreds of times he’s looked at that shelf, but he cannot for the life of him remember what used to live there.

“I’m not happy, Mulder.”

He’d turned his head slowly to look at her, his reaction lethargic. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, and he’d found himself surprised by her state. He wanted to ask her what happened, but then he realized that what happened was him.

“I’m sorry,” he’d uttered uselessly, feeling like an emotionally stunted tin man.

And he was. He is. He’s very, very sorry. But being sorry isn’t a feeling, it turns out. All you have to do in order to be sorry is to wish that things were different, which he does. He wishes he were different. He’s wished that for most of his life, save for one heavenly slice of time where someone who he loved beyond words or measure loved him back exactly as he is. Or was, anyway.

With a grunt, he launches himself up off the couch and plods over to the bookshelf. The blank circle is about five inches in diameter, flanked by his Star Trek DVDs and a framed picture of Samantha. It bothers him, makes him feel crazy, because there is an accompanying blank spot in his head where the information should be.

He feels annoyed. That’s something.

There was a space of time where he felt everything, to the point of overwhelm. He was despondent, agonized, miserable in a way that made him realize that every prior experience of “sad” was anodyne by comparison. He seriously considered whether continuing to be alive was the right choice for him. At that point, Scully was the only reason he had to keep going. It was the overpowering desire to avoid hurting her in a way she could never recover from that kept him waking up each day, kept him trying to make things better. And then one day, he didn’t feel so sad anymore. This would have been a good thing, except in addition to not feeling sad, he didn’t feel happy. He didn’t feel anything. He still doesn’t, not that he hasn’t tried.

It’s a bit like trying your hand at telekinesis, which he’s done an embarrassingly large number of times. You stare at the item, willing it with every fiber of your being to move. You realize that you’re not sure what you’re supposed to be engaging: what sense, or system, or muscle does one activate in order to move objects with their mind? You stare harder and harder, begging it to move, but it won’t. It can’t. You can’t make it, no matter how badly you want it to.

When she left, it was like a dream. He watched from the sidelines as she loaded the last of her things into her car and turned back to look at him one final time. He wanted to scream, to slap himself so he’d snap out of this trance and stop the only good thing that ever happened to him from walking out of his life. But his shoes were full of concrete and his hands made of lead, and he couldn’t bring himself to move.

“Drive carefully,” he’d offered, and then watched as the final spark of hope extinguished from her eyes.

He grabs the cordless phone off the cradle and returns to the couch, settling back into the well-worn indent his body has molded into the cushions. He dials her number and closes his eyes, pretending that she’s just out running errands and the house isn’t full of blank spots.

“Mulder?” she asks urgently upon answering, her voice full of concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he assures her casually. “I just wanted—are you busy?”

She heaves a sigh, the one that means she’s both relieved and irritated. It’s a special one born of necessity after they began working together.

“No,” she says, defeated. “What do you need?”

“What used to be on the bookshelf? Next to the picture of Samantha. I can’t remember and it’s driving me crazy.”

There’s a long silence filled with the crackle of her thoughts. It used to be his white noise, the sound he fell asleep to. He wonders if she’ll stay on the phone and let him listen to it if he asks nicely. He hasn’t slept well in a while.

“Are you eating, Mulder? Are you—” She clears her throat and takes a breath. “Are you taking care of yourself?”

He hasn’t eaten today. He can’t remember the last time he showered. Those things just don’t seem very important right now. Nothing does.

“Uh huh,” he says noncommittally.

Another crackling stretch. He yawns and burrows deeper into the cushions.

“I worry about you,” she whispers, like it’s a confession.

It hits his ear and slips down to the floor, disappearing between the drafty floorboards he never got around to fixing. He just can’t absorb it, can’t take it in. Her worry, her fear, her love. He’s impervious to it, which would be frustrating if that were an emotion he could access.

“I know,” he answers. “Do you remember what was on the bookshelf?”

He pictures her looking at her new bookshelf in her new place. He hasn’t been invited over and he has no idea what it’s like, so he just ends up picturing her in her apartment back in Georgetown. It makes him feel a little bit warm thinking of her there, curled up on her striped couch with a glass of wine.

“A coffee mug,” she says after a time. “Full of pebbles.”

“Oh,” he says, his eyebrows furrowing. “I forgot about that.”

“Yeah,” she says tightly. “I know.”

“Thanks,” he tells her. “It was gonna bug me all day.”

More crackles. He waits.

“It’s 11:00 pm, Mulder.”

She’s not here to mark the passing of time.

“I know. Sorry to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

He waits until she hangs up before he kills his end of the line. He does remember a little town with a winding river running through the middle of it. Maybe it was in Colorado, or Idaho. They sat on the bank of the river for hours, sipping from a drugstore bottle of whiskey and sorting the smooth, water-worn stones into little piles by color.

“I miss having a home,” she’d admitted as the sun began to slip behind the trees, slashing yellow stripes of light across the gently flowing water and her summer-freckled skin. She turned to look at him, seeking connection and comfort. Her vulnerability always felt like a secret that she trusted him to keep. He’d already met his daily quota for platitudes and empty expressions of optimism, so he just reached out and grabbed her hand. That seemed to be enough.

The next day, he was killing time in a gift shop that also served as the town’s laundromat, waiting for his jeans to dry, when he found a kitschy little mug that made him smile. He bought it for her and wrapped it in old newspapers, hiding it in the bottom of his bag until their final day in that particular town. She was always melancholy when it was time to go.

“Home is wherever I’m with you,” she read off the face of the mug, and by the time she lifted her head to look at him, tears were spilling out of her eyes.

She filled it with her favorite rocks from beside the river, the ones that reminded her of Missy and her mother. Some that she said reminded her of him. She hauled it around with her to countless other cities until she had a real home to display it in. It occupied the bookshelf until the day she realized that the home they’d found in each other had depreciated into a haunted house full of his ghosts.

Mulder thinks about the mug, about the blank spot on the shelf, and his chest becomes painfully tight. He thinks about how much she trusted him, right from the start, and how deeply he’s betrayed that trust. He thinks about the miracle of her love. The unlikely chance that he found her in the first place. And he feels so fucking awful, so guilty, so terrified that he’s ruined everything. His eyes burn and his throat closes up, and he sucks in a ragged breath. He feels so afraid that he’ll never get her back.

He feels.

It’s a start.

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #x files fanfic #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #xf fanfic #x files #the x-files #xfiles

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