#so it gradually goes from a conscious understanding that he needs to get out

[decarbry]

would you be willing to elaborate on Yaburemes “birth”/development in the glass tube? Was he conscious during it?

so this is actually the content of chapter 3 (I swear I'm working on the next part, I intend to get faster with them I just keep getting distracted ksdfg) so I'll leave the details for then. he is... semi-conscious for the capsule process. but it's a very low-input kind of consciousness because he's essentially blind, deaf, and mostly immobile for all of it :")

[somerandomdudelmao]

You may of already been asked this, or just straight up mentioned it before, I'm not sure, but I've been thinking. Robo Raph can't feel pain yes, but can he feel anything else?

Can he feel as Donnie works on and repairs him? Can he feel Mikey as they're hugging in that last panel, or is he just numb to any and all sensation? He could be able to feel weight maybe, or maybe not with how strong he is.

While sad, it'd make perfect sense if he's unable to, he's in a robot body after all. Just some thoughts. 👀

Ooh, that's a very interesting question >:0

Initially, once he became a robot, Raph could sense many different things. Donnie did a tremendous job of making his brother as comfortable as possible in a mechanical body. Raph at that time was able to feel temperatures, textures, pressure, almost all tactile things in general. He could also feel smells and hear voluminous sounds. And his mechanical body was much more receptive to his condition. He shuddered when he was cold, he flinched if he was frightened. He didn't have to consciously want to make a movement to make one. Donnie wanted to make sure that the robotic body would be as responsive as the real one. Or at least...close to it.

Unfortunately, mechanisms can get old and break down. Especially in such an aggressive environment.

Gradually, over time, Raph lost most of his "sensory organs" He can still feel when he touches something, can feel different levels of pressure, but temperature and textures no longer exist for him, nor do smells. He can hear well, but it is increasingly difficult for him to understand where the sound is coming from. Also, due to the loss of his eye, he can no longer perceive the depth of space normally.

Also, his robotic body barely expresses his unconscious reactions and quirks. If he wants to do something, he needs to make a conscious effort to do it. That's why he looks so “calm” most of the time.

In fact, over time, Rafe goes from "this is just like my normal life" to "now this is a video game interface" and let me tell you, some of the keys are sticking out more and more.

————————

And yes. He can feel it when he is being taken apart to be repaired. It's not absolutely terrible, but he doesn't like the feeling. But not sensing anything at all is even worse for him. So, every time Donnie offers to turn off the sensors for the repair, Raph refuses.

[emiplayzmc]

I’m gonna add to your illness:

Do you think twisted glisten ever wondered if he did something horrible enough to deserve being left in basically complete isolation for weeks? Like that there’s some reason his mind hasn’t gone away quickly like the others and that him remaining conscious is some sick way for the universe to punish him for being egotistical? I’m sure initially he was relieved he wasn’t losing his mind but it gradually turned less into a comfort and more of a curse as the affects of prolonged isolation took its toll on his mind

POINTS. YOU. YOU GET IT. Coming from a run where I actually had Twisted Glisten on a floor (and died to Gigi </3) for this ask

AGH, this idea breaks my heart (/vpos) but ABSOLUTELY, YES, love the way your mind works with the angst. For a while he would ABSOLUTELY think of it as a blessing to not be like the others yet. To have enough consciousness to be able to restrain his hands together so he doesn't accidentally hurt anyone if/when he does succumb, to be able to speak and think still so that he can tell anybody who would come to rescue him that he's not Twisted yet, that he's still himself, because he knows that people will come to save him soon and he'll still be alive for when they do!!

. . .

People WILL be coming to save him, right? Surely he wouldn't be left behind. OF COURSE he wouldn't be left alone in a room of what are essentially thoughtless zombies of his old friends forever, likely on the same floor he corrupted / 'died' on - it's not too late for him... right?

. . .

Right?

. . .

Ohhhh his thought processes during this whole period are so fascinating to me, I need to study him under a microscope. Do you think he maybe tried to engage the other Twisteds in conversation for a while just to fill the crushing void of nothing, even if he was the only one talking and all they would do was ignore him or stare like they don't understand what he's saying, why someone like *them* is desperately trying to hold onto what they once *were* instead of just succumbing?

You think he ever wished he could even hear Finn making the worst joke ever in those moments? Because it would mean he wasn't alone?

Warning for a long rambling below because YES this got my creative juices FLOWING for stuff he thought of during his twisting and when people come on the elevator to whatever floor he's on.

And eventually he would just- stop talking to them because it wasn't enough, never enough to prevent his thoughts creeping in on him, and his sense of personal image still having some sort of say in 'People are going to think I'm *one of them* if they come and see me trying to *talk* to them, or at the very least think I've gone mad.'

He starts wondering WHY, exactly, he's still the only one he's seen that's still conscious, and he's not sure how long it's been, but he's SURE it's been long enough that by now any other Toon would have succumbed to the ichor, and then as more time goes on and days bleed into weeks, and he starts losing hope that anyone is coming, and starts thinking of his consciousness as a punishment, that this forced isolation from safety and anyone that actually has a lick of sentience left is something he deserves for something.

Maybe that this is what he had coming all along and maybe the other Toons have already forgotten him, that they were never coming to save him, that maybe he didn't have any actual 'friends' in Gardenview in the first place, and all the times Rodger would let him *whine* and *complain* about *his* small problems or when Brightney would invite him to book clubs were all done out of forced politeness since they're all made to promote 'Friendship!' and 'Kindness!' to children, and they just kept up appearances around him and he couldn't take a hint that maybe they all disliked him all along

And then what about when he heard the elevator stop on his floor?

What about having his hopes SOARING because people DID actually come to save him, that the only reason it took so long was because they were searching for him and filling ichor machines along the way!! And then having whoever is there confirming that to keep him happy, whether that was actually the case or not. And being so, *so* scared that he's following the other(s) around like a lost puppy and talking while they fill machines or maybe distracting a Twisted for them if they're being targeted to protect them. To make sure they don't meet the same fate that he did.

And then the *moment* he hears that elevator open and seeing them trying to hurriedly excuse themselves from him to get to it before it closes, he recognizes that look in their eyes. The same one he got when he saw the Twisteds for the first time.

They're scared of him. They think he's one of them. They want to get out of there.

They want to leave him alone again.

And he just *goes off the handle.* He can't take it anymore, he can't *handle* being alone here for another second. The ichor probably messes with his mind a little, making him want to *keep* them here if he can't leave, so that's probably why he attacks us in the game in the FIRST place. He doesn't mean to hurt, he just doesn't want to first people he's seen in who knows how long to go and he's going to do whatever it takes to prevent that.

And then when the elevator closes and people leave. AGH when he's LEFT AGAIN. Oh there's probably the worst thoughts he'd had the whole time because he had HOPE for a few short minutes, he wasn't ALONE anymore, and all of that was just crushed right before him because freaking out like that, in his mind, likely solidified their belief that he's truly one of the Twisteds, that he's dangerous and better off leaving than risking themselves by taking him. Oughhh that's probably what REALLY makes it stick in his mind that this is his own punishment, that this consciousness he has is a curse instead of a blessing because he's forced to live down there KNOWING what he just did and having nothing positive at that point to cling onto because he probably just dashed his only hope to get out of here and WHY won't his mind just go away and make him a mindless zombie at this point like everyone else because that would be the comfort at this point but it ***won't*** and he's always. Aware. Of everything that's happened to him.

RAGHHH this got SO MUCH LONGER THAN INTENDED but THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK!!! You're right, this is making my illness about Twisted Glisten so much worse /vpos and I love it, he's going to be spinning in my thoughts for such a long time and it's so so fun trying to analyze his mind like a little insect on a microscope. Researching him Rodger-style to figure out what is going ON in his HEAD up there. Sir, Mr. Glisten, sir what are your thoughts on being twisted and corrupted and broken paired with your existing autophobia? /silly.

[ms-p-literacy]

Writing Processes and Strategies

The writing process refers to the stages of planning, drafting, sharing, evaluating, revising, and editing that underlie the creation and eventual publication of a text (Graham, n.d.). Each component of the writing process also has associated strategies that can be used to carry them out, but writers must be selective in the ones that they use based on the eventual goal of the writing (Graham, n.d.). Whereas the goal for younger writers is to get the words out on the page, older students must receive explicit instruction on the more nuanced aspects of writing that serve to inform how writing is understood and received (Graham, n.d.).

Understand

At the time of writing this post, it had been a while since I thought about everything that goes into my present ability to write in the manner that I do that goes beyond just checking my spelling, punctuation, and sentence structure. Steve Graham's (n.d.) thoughts on effective writing instruction posted to Reading Rockets served as a reminder of the complexities of the task and just how important it is to break the process down, because it is not something that comes as "naturally" as producing speech or scribbling on a page.

Assess

With respect to assessing the writing of students in grades 4 to 6, educators can make use of the 6+1 Trait Writing rubric for grades 3 to 12 (Education Northwest, 2021). This rubric examines the common characteristics associated with good writing, namely, ideas, organization, voice, word choice, sentence fluency, conventions, and presentation (Education Northwest, 2021; Reading Rockets, n.d.). This assessment can be useful in terms of helping educators to identify areas of need in their students and inform targeted writing instruction.

It is important to note that this rubric cannot be used as an Assessment of Learning, because it is not an evaluation of student achievement (Ministry of Education, 2010). Rather, it is an Assessment for Learning because it can be used to chart a student's writing growth over the course of the year as well as to inform feedback given to students to support that growth (Ministry of Education, 2010).

The 6+1 Trait Writing rubric was not created with English language learners in mind, so it would not be a fair assessment of one's writing abilities because these students are not just writing to task, they are also exercising conscious effort in juggling all of the demands associated with writing in a foreign language.

An assessment strategy that follows the gradual release of responsibility that typically occurs in later writing instruction is that of peer editing (Little, 2020). Although the responsibility of peer editing falls on the students, educators nevertheless play a role in providing structure to this assessment and this can be accomplished with the help of a checklist (Little, 2020). In my search for one such checklist, I found one created by a University of Toronto-educated teacher: Steven Krajnjan. The peer editing checklist (Krajnjan, n.d.) that he put together is detailed, concise, and nicely structured. It would be most appropriate for older junior students: likely grade 6.

Peer editing is a form of Assessment as Learning because functions as a means of and opportunity for capacity-building in students (Ministry of Education, 2010). It is crucial to student developing and can be an important contributor to the creation and nurturing of a community of writers (Graham, n.d.).

Instruct

Education.com hosts a variety of lesson plans, activities, and worksheets developed by educational experts from around the globe. It was through this site that I accessed a lesson plan for teaching word choice to students in grades 4 to 5. This lesson plan is carried out in stages, beginning with collective brainstorming in response to a prompt, modelling and explicit instruction on how being selective in the adjectives and verbs that one uses can paint very different pictures in a reader's mind, guided practice, and finally independent practice (Education.com, 2021).

This lesson plan should prove to be highly effective in the instruction of word choice as it follows the evidence-backed gradual release of responsibility framework (Fisher and Frey, 2008).

The guided practice element of this lesson plan is also multisensory in that it is supported with videos (sound, moving images) and pictures (static images), not only making the learning more memorable to all students, but potentially also more accessible to students with certain exceptionalities (Morin, n.d.).

A key part of the writing process is generating and organizing ideas for the ease of the eventual reader's understanding (Graham, n.d.). In my search for instructional strategies that could support students in this part of the writing process, I came across a series of activities created by educator Bridget Baudinet and supported by a StoryboardThat—a digital storyboarding platform. Baudinet (n.d.) proposes that a traditional storyboard layout featuring snapshots of exposition, conflict, rising action, climax, falling action, and resolution could aid students in methodically and visually laying out their ideas prior to writing a narrative.

Storyboarding is an effective tool in supporting all students in the classroom (Bakkegard, 2023). It effectively wields student interest and creativity, making it highly engaging (Gambrell, 1996). Additionally, the use visuals and chunking involved in storyboarding (Bakkegard, 2023) makes it greatly accessible to exceptional students and English language learners who may require more support when getting ideas on the page in response to the demands of the narrative task.

*References below the cut.

References

Bakkegard, D. (2023, December 3). Using storyboards in the classroom. Edutopia. Retrieved December 3, 2024 from https://www.edutopia.org/article/using-storyboards-classroom/

Baudinet, B. (n.d.). The writing process. StoryboardThat. Retrieved December 3, 2024 from https://www.storyboardthat.com/articles/e/the-writing-process#

Education.com. (2021). Using adjectives and verbs to make writing come to life – 4th and 5th grade lesson plan. Retrieved December 3, 2024 from https://www.education.com/lesson-plan/using-adjectives-and-verbs-to-make-writing-come-to-life/

Education Northwest. (2021). 6+1 Trait Writing rubrics – Grades 3-12. Retrieved December 3, 2024 from https://educationnorthwest.org/sites/default/files/resources/traits-rubrics-3-12.pdf

Fisher, D. and Frey, N. (2008). Homework and the gradual release of responsibility: Making "responsibility" possible. The English Journal, 98(2), 40-45. https://www.jstor.org/stable/40503381

Graham, S. (n.d.). Teaching elementary school students to be effective writers. Reading Rockets. Retrieved December 3, 2024 from https://www.readingrockets.org/topics/writing/articles/teaching-elementary-school-students-be-effective-writers

Gambrell, L. B. (1996). Creating classroom cultures that foster reading motivation. The Reading Teacher, 50(1), 14-25.

Krajnjan, S. (n.d.). Peer editing form. TimeSaversForTeachers.com. Retrieved December 3, 2024 from https://www.timesaversforteachers.com/freeforms/peereditingform.pdf

Little, M. (2020, May 5). Peer editing in the classroom: A creative approach (part 1). Teach and Learn. Retrieved December 3, 2024 from https://teach-learn.ca/2020/05/05/peer-editing-in-the-classroom-a-creative-approach-part1/

Ministry of Education. (2010). Growing success. Government of Ontario. https://www.edu.gov.on.ca/eng/policyfunding/growSuccess.pdf

Morin, A. (n.d.). What is multisensory instruction? Understood. Retrieved December 3, 2024 from https://www.understood.org/en/articles/multisensory-instruction-what-you-need-to-know

Reading Rockets. (n.d.). Writing assessment. Retrieved December 3, 2024 from https://www.readingrockets.org/topics/writing/articles/writing-assessment

[absolutely-esme]

The Batfamily gradually learns various peculiarities about the needs of ghosts.  It's slow going, especially because their newest family member is so painfully uncertain and self-conscious that he won't tell them anything until circumstances force his hand, like he thinks it's unsightly for him to just exist as the type of being he is.  Prying too much just scares him, and they don't want to risk causing him to flee, now that he's finally agreed to stay.  Until he begins to feel more secure with them, they're making due with the bits and pieces he has shared and what they can deduce by observing him.

So far they've learned a few things.

 Ghosts need a place to rest that no one else goes into.  It doesn't need to be large or a freestanding structure, but it does need to be private and that privacy must be treated as sacred.  Intruding on a ghost's private haunt without their consent is violating, threatening, and terrifying.  Apparently those haunted house movies would still be horror genre from the ghosts point of view.

(Danny doesn't want to get caught sleeping in human form.)

Danny doesn't seem to be particularly sensitive about the circumstances of his own death, for the most part, but he never uses the word "death" when talking about himself.  He will say "the accident" or "became a ghost" or any number of things, but he will not use the words "death" or "died." 

(He's not avoiding using the words; it just doesn't occur to him to call it death when he's still partly alive.)

While largely ambivalent toward his own death, Danny is not at all desensitized to harm done to others.  Exposure to a particularly gruesome crime scene resulted in an extreme emotional response and heavily increased protective tendencies for some time following.

(This is actually pretty accurate.  The scene also hit a little close to home.)

At some point, Red Robin sees Danny eating and asks him about it.  Apparently some ghosts need to eat, although it is more about the emotions attached to food.  If the food is made with a lot of care put into it or if it's given by someone who considers it special (like a favorite comfort food),  that will be what the ghost gets out of it.

Tim thinks they should tell the family so that he can be fed too, but Danny is embarrassed because he needs more food than most ghosts and he's worried about the consequences of being higher maintenance than he initially seemed.  Tim doesn't think this will be an issue but understands the fear of asking too much and doesn't want to scare him away.  Thus, instead of telling the family, Tim learns how to cook and insists on bringing Danny over to his place periodically to feed him in privacy.  While trying to figure out how to put more feelings into food, Tim inadvertently reinvents hearth magic.

(Danny goes along partly for easy access to food and partly to keep Tim quiet because surely Batman won't fall for it.  Then, one day, Tim gives him a bowl of chicken and vegetable soup so heavily imbued with "You are wanted; you are loved," that it nearly brings him to tears and triples his healing speed for the next day and a half.)

Batman adopts phantom not fenton so danny has to hide his human half lmao

Unfinished post

Phantom ends up in Gotham yadayada parents find out goes poorly so hes running. Maybe something they did keeps him from turning back into Fenton so he has to do his best to blend in. Maybe ill cut him some slack and say his ghost half at least is easier to sustain. Maybe he doesn’t need as much sleep or needs to eat as often. Im sure Gothem has plenty of ectoplasm around for him. Thats why hes here! It messes with ghost hunting gear and is basically a huge dead spot. Or maybe Lady Gothem is just hiding this child king cause she likes him. Lord knows hes been helping people as secretly as he could.

Anyway cut to a big fight and he wins but gets his ass kicked. Batman shows up a bit at the end when Danny caps the thermos. Hes hurt and tired so he doesn’t feel another presence with him. Muttering complaints to he catch as Batman approaches. Bruce is fully on edge because he doesn’t know what hes dealing with and he hates not knowing what to do. So he gets ready for a fight until the person, the child, turns to face him. Their face so young looking. But not just that. The wince from movement didn’t go unnoticed but more is the pure fear on this child’s face. The fear isnt from his injury or the fight, no it’s of seeing Bruce here. He hates it. That stupid rumour of him hating metas. If only he could tell the media that he has metas in his own family that he loves. Smh. He starts to speak and approach when the kid in front of him quickly backs up and he apologises start pouring from him. Bruce puts his hands up to try and get the kid to calm down. “You aren’t in trouble. I just wanna help.” He tries to pour as much concern into his voice so the kid will believe him. The kid hardly relaxed at his statement, but enough for Bruce to notice it so he will take what he can get.

[akaraboonline]

What To Do When A Guy Won’t Go Down On You

Guys enjoy it when a woman goes downtown on them, but many men despise the 'giving in return' part. So, what do you do when your new guy refuses to go downtown with you? First and foremost, do not panic. There could be a valid reason, and he may not be a complete jerk. Of course, he could be one of those jerks who believes that making love is all about him and that you don't need anything more than a few quick thrusts. It's time to talk if he flatly refuses or avoids a little downstairs tongue action. What To Do When A Guy Won’t Go Down On You Ask him why.  I know it seems obvious, but many women become enraged and end things. Make a time to ask him why he isn't going down on you. The issue could be as simple as the last girl he was with smelling or tasting strange. Of course, it could be more complicated, and he naturally dislikes doing it. Knowing the true reason will help you both deal with it. No more downtown action.  Okay, so this shouldn't be your first move. Only do this if he refuses to explain himself or if he has the audacity to demand downtown action despite his indifference to your needs. I'm not a fan of withholding intimacy in any way, but it has to be done sometimes, and this is one of those rare occasions. Introduce toys to the mix.  It's amazing to use your mouth, but if your guy hates it, you shouldn't make him. Remember that intimacy should be enjoyable for both of you. You do, however, require some additional stimulation. Any decent guy won't mind if you bring some toys into his bedroom. Show him how to use them and allow him to please you in this way. It's not the same, but it shows he cares about pleasing you as well. Ask if it’s just you.  Don't immediately blame your man; you could be the source of the problem. Inquire if his aversion to going downtown is unique to you. Unfortunately, some women do not keep their vaginas clean and fresh. I understand; we all have days when we don't feel our best. Still, if you always smell funny or have the world's most unruly bush, he might be turned off. Tell him why it’s important.  Some guys have no idea why using his mouth is so important. It may sound like a lame excuse, but it's true. If no one has ever pointed it out to him, he simply assumes it isn't necessary. Talk to him about how important it is to you. If necessary, compare it to going downtown on him. Help him work through his issues.  If he had a bad experience before you, use this as an opportunity to gradually help him overcome his issues. This does not imply that you should immediately sit on his face. Take things one step at a time. It may take some time, but he may soon begin to enjoy going down on you again. Accept it and move on.  We all have things in bed that we don't like. If going downtown is a no-go for your guy, you may have to accept it and move on. If that's the only hiccup in your relationship, consider yourself fortunate. Work around him and don't let it ruin your relationship. Help him master other intimacy options.  You don't have to rely solely on your mouth for intimacy. Show him what you're into. Assist him in learning to please you even more than you please yourself. You'll still get your high and he'll be eager to please if he uses his hands correctly and maybe throws in a toy or two. Suggest sixty-nine.  I've heard of men who experience stage fright when put on the spot. Consider this. When it comes to intimacy, you usually do it together. When he comes down on you, you're having fun while he does all the work. He could simply be freaking out. With a little sixty-nine action, you can make him feel less self-conscious. He'll be distracted by your mouth, and you'll be distracted by his soon enough. Remember his feelings, too.  No man wants to feel inept in bed. Before you start berating or withholding from him, consider how you would feel if you were in his shoes. Would you want a guy to treat you poorly because you despise going down on him and won't try that strange position he desired? No. Unless he's being a jerk, try to be compassionate and find a middle ground. Try mutual intimacy.  Intimacy does not always entail physical contact. A lighthearted tease can be just as satisfying. Sit across from each other, relax, and enjoy the show. You're both having a good time, and it's a real pleasure to watch your partner. It will also show him exactly what you like. Find a new guy.  If you can't live without some downtown action, or if the guy is just a bad guy in general, dump him and find someone else. It can be a deal breaker at times, especially if you're not too attached. There's nothing wrong with it, and it's better to move on now than to be unhappy later. Don't worry if your guy refuses to go downtown. It happens from time to time. It stinks (or, in this case, does not stink), but there are ways to deal with and avoid it. Read the full article

[absolutepokemontrash]

What about them reacting to a MC that's the complete opposite of them with the bros? (Sorry if you've done this already!!)

No! I haven’t done something like this yet! Please enjoy!

Lucifer Vs. Humility in Human Form

…this human is driving him up the wall and they haven’t even done anything wrong.

They have such a low view of their own importance, which can be seen as a pretty shitty thing but they- this fucking human-

They admit their mistakes, they’re willing to learn, they keep an open mind, CAN THEY JUST STOP. THEY’RE MAKING LUCIFER LOOK BAD!

Ugh… now they’re offering to help with his paperwork… sure human. Help him out.

Tsk, as annoying as this human is, they should at least have a little confidence in themselves. They do good work. Like geez… take some amount of pride in what they do, it’s not like it’d kill them.

Mammon vs. The Person He’s Gradually Squeezing Money Out of but he Feels Real Bad About It

Huh, so the stupid human’s going to buy him lunch? Good! He deserves it after he spent all that time lookin’ after them! And they’re gonna get him new sunglasses? Awesome!

The human is Mammon’s second wallet, and our favourite greedy demon is milking for all it’s worth.

…he feels kinda bad to be honest… just a smidge! Not ‘cause he likes the human or nothin’ it’s just that… uh… ONLY HE GETS TO USE THEM AS A WALKING ATM! THAT’S WHY!

Phew… crisis averted…

But yea, Mammon gets very nervous about people taking advantage of his MC, so it gradually gets him to slightly ease up on the “HUMAN! BUY ME THIS!”

Levi vs. Human with Good Vibes

…how is the human not self conscious about… anything???? Like, Levi could absolutely pwn them in any game and they’d just shrug it off and congratulate him!

HAEEEEH? No jealousy?! No desperate need to be the best?! No envy?! …man…

MC just has immaculate vibes and works to better themselves. They keep trying to tell Levi that there’s always going to be someone better than him at something, and that he should just enjoy what he’s doing.

It doesn’t help that MC goes outside, and exercises, and does… NOT Otaku things!

Does not compute. Does not compute. Computational overload-

It doesn’t stop MC though, they work tirelessly to try and help Levi understand his own self worth and defeat his envy. They uh… have their work cut out for them…

Satan vs. “Calm down, relaxation, chill out, stop screaming.”

This human just doesn’t seem to get angry… they have a god-like level of patience. At first Satan just thought he was overestimating how angry a human could get, but in reality MC was just very very calm.

They weren’t one for book reading either, which irked Satan a little, but it wasn’t a friendship dealbreaker.

MC’s very open with who they really are, they don’t hide anything behind fake smiles and pretty words. As we know, that’s not exactly Satan’s thing, but he can respect MC for being like that.

Satan and MC just vibe together in the same room. MC themselves is a calming figure.

Asmodeus vs. Dense, Chaste, and Afraid

My oh my~ what a cute little human. Asmo immediately got his flirt on, but this human was just so… dense???? They got NONE of the innuendos Asmo was spewing.

The human was so awkward too, nothing like Mr. Social Butterfly Asmodeus. He couldn’t go out with them without them looking like they were going to spontaneously combust!

At one point, Asmo got so frustrated that MC didn’t seem to be understanding his flirting, he straight up asked to have sex with MC.

“MC, babe, would you like to commence coitus? I am incredibly attracted to you, and I enjoy your company.” “Oh! Uh… I didn’t know you felt that way about me Asmo…” “H O W?!”

Beelzebub vs. “No, I’m good! I’m not hungry!”

Is MC… not hungry? :( are they sick? That’s so sad omg-

MC is expressive, Beel has RBF, MC is as prickly as a cactus, Beel is a teddy bear. Don’t worry, Beel will still hug cactusy MC :D

MC’s also quite lazy too, Beel doesn’t particularly mind, he’s already used to helping out Belphie.

Belphegor vs. “Jesus Fucking Christ do You Ever Sleep?!”

Human. Human no. Human stop. Stop moving just sit the fuck down.

Belphie gets tired just looking at MC work, they do all their chores with a sweet smile on their face too. Man… this human is way too perky while doing ugh, work.

MC is very open with their emotions, unlike Belphie, who stews angrily and can hold a grudge like no other.

It’s hard for demons to change, but maybe Belphie could learn some things from MC. Please. PLEASE learn something from MC Belphie we’re begging you here!

—————

I really ran out of ideas with this one… sorry guys :/

[muffindaddystyles]

DENTIST THE BAD BOI (PART2)

Word Count: 17k.

A/N: Heavily inspired from 90's rom-coms, so if your heart swoons out of loneliness it's not on me sistas -- doctor Harry my fav.

Summary: Y/N's much tolerable when less grumpy then more kissable, more loveable and cuddleable and Harry wants to be more than just fuck buddies that he ends up giving Y/N a tooth ache.

Pairing: Dentist Harry × Artist reader, Frenemies to bestfriends to lovers, platonic affection and loads of bestie fluff, smut and domestic love.

MASTERLIST | REQUEST FOR BLURBS FROM THIS FIC ARE OPEN | PART 1

“Yes. I want you to stay.” She doesn’t hesitate this time. Her words honest and full of plead, she needs him, she wants him, she wants to have him.

Harry’s lips quirks up into a loopish smile at that and he hoists his knee up and above, sinking his palms into her soft mattress besides her temple and blocks the mellow sunshine that peeks through her lace curtains. Her heart squeezes out of her rib-bones and turns gooey somewhere within her insides as her lungs fill with his minty and warm ardour and if she'd be not this flushed and throbbing between her sticky thighs she'd have cracked a dentist joke.

“Y’want me to lick y'cookie f'ye?” He gives her a bunny grin and his fingertips tickles her shoulder; milky skin twinkling at him from the neckline of her shirt that’s barely sitting there and she pouts raising her hands to smack his chest, but he grabs them and tugs her forward, tutting sternly, “I want an answer.” His foresty pupils darkens around rims and her throat turns scratchy. So, she bobs her head up and down eagerly, feeling the metal around his fingers smouldering into her wrist and the thought of it on her clit makes her mewl.

It dings his adam apple sexily and his eyes turn soft and cheeks rosy, Harry doesn’t know what she likes or not so he’s gonna start tentative and careful and gradually ease her into taking big things after, letting her drip onto sheets for hours if she’d like him edging and teasing her.

She watches him with doe-innocent eyes and Harry almost ruts his hips against the mattress from the way his cock twitches weepily -- sensitive against the fabric of his joggers.

He keeps their intense eye contact while sliding back down between her legs and cares his calloused warm palms under the back of her cushiony fleshy thighs and bends her knees up, his eyes flicker towards her tummy that exposes to him when she stretches out gracefully in reaction to his tingling touch.

Making sure she’s alright, his nimble taps her ankle and when she breathes out a whiny “yes.”,

He gropes the insides of her thighs and spreads them apart and presses them down letting her make puny noises when the cool air teases her folds, she smells so good for him, “Already such a puddle, Muffy. G'na gimme a sugar rush from ye'sweetness.” He darts his pink tongue out to moisturize his petal lip and his grunt pleased and heavy upon seeing her gush more arousal just from listening him talk.

He spreads her swollen pussylips apart with his middle and pointer finger and her chin tips towards the ceiling, mouth apart around a gasp when he glints a smirk towards her all while poking his tongue out and flattening it against her clenching entrance and licks her juices up.

“Does it feel good?” He hums nonchalantly nosing at her little button and paints his lips with her wetness. She stays a bit stiff. Not making any move and staying put in her position. Harry takes her clit between his teeth when she whimpers out and her body turns taut, her hands balling at her sides.

“Y've t’use y’words with me, moppet. It works two ways, always.” His hands reaches blindly for her wrists and he puts them over his poof of hair but it remains fisted and he rubs his big hands up and down where her thighs meets her sweet cunt, “Try t’ relax. Can y'do that fo'me, pet?”

His brows pinches together into a frown. His glistening lips from her turning into a grumpy pout when she doesn’t respond — was he unable to make her feel hot and excited? she should tell him if she didn’t like it.

“Y/N ...” He raises his head slowly from between her thighs and his jaw goes slack, his eyes bursting wide seeing her holding her breath and hiding her face underneath her forearm, “Shit. Shit. Y/N!” He’s quickly crawling towards her and sliding his hand under her back, brings her to his chest with his fingers wrapped around the nook of her elbow.

“Breathe, Sweetheart. ‘s okay.” Is this what she was talking about? Is this why she has specific days for touching herself? Poor bambi. He massages her back with tender circles and sighs in relief when he feels her chest calming down back to normal.

“Y/N ...” He pushes her away from shoulders to look down at her sternly and takes her hair into his grasp and slinks them to side, “What’s happenin’ with ye'muffy?” He gives her a downturn of lips and quirk of brow indicating her that there isn’t any escape for this time.

For fuck’s sake! He’s her bestfriend. He should know atleast that she’s alright!

He gauges for her eyes when she presses her palms into his knees and lifts her bum a tad from the sheets, shy embarrassment turning the tips of her ears pink, manipulating her toffee lip in her mouth and Harry pushes back the hair that are falling in her eyes.

She’s feeling hell load giddy and humiliated to tell him this.

Harry startles back, blinking rapidly when she squeaks out in one breath, “’M scared to hurt you!” He pulls her forward with his hand wrapped around the nape of her neck and frowns.

His touch with her tender and un-conceit, when usually he’s a domineering in bed and riles them enough for them to beg and moan pathetically for him.

“What? Scared ---.. hurt?” He tries to piece what she said together but it doesn’t make any sense. So, he guesses that he'd have to pry some more from her, “What're ye' talkin' bout muffy?” He sighs noticing the way she clenches the hem of her shirt and mumbles something but Harry’s giving her a piercing glare and it makes her ramble anxiously.

His hand affixed at her skimmed from under her shirt and his thumb keeps on circling her hip-bone.

“’M afraid that I’ll get all horny ‘n loose all my senses and be all rough with you, ending up hurtin'y and I’ll be too engulfed in pleasure that you wouldn’t be able to stop me ....” She fiddles her fingers vigorously in Harry’s hand and he's cutting her with a tut, “That’s the point silly girl.” He chuckles amused at her and she shakes her head whining up at him with a surly expression. The corners of her eyes pinkish and watery from forcing herself to feel the pleasure Harry’s tongue was devoting her.

“But, Harry ‘m not some insatiable monster!!” His heart thuds at the concerned worrisome look on her angelic features and he’s cupping her cheeks, he curses out internally to whoever told her this and his lip grouches up, “You’re not some insatiable monster. Who the fuck fed you this bullshit?” He scolds her and it makes her fleet her gaze away from him.

“You’re not —-... what the fuck, Y/N. Tell me their name so I could break their jaw.” He gasps in shock and he spits in venom. Knuckling at her chin to prop it high infront of him and doesn’t break the cogent eye contact -– his eyes full of hatred and loath for the person.

That damn person who made his Bambi, so insecure and conscious and self-degrading about herself.

“The guy –,” She stutters. He gives her an encouraging hum and she plays with his rings, she knows that he’ll never make fun of her about it and mighty be understanding.

He has always been.

But sometimes he laughs at the worst moments. Not his fault. She has adopted that habit too from living with him.

Right now though. He looks very serious and furious, it creeps heat up her throat.

“The guy I lost my virginity to. He said – he ... umm said that I hurt him when I flipped him underneath me and was being selfish asking him to you know ...?” She mumbles, uncertain if she’s putting it out right and Harry runs his fingers through his curls gripping at the roots and groans in annoyance, properly vexed.

“Firstly muffy. Virginity isn’t a thing. It’s a term made by egoistic men like that prick of a guy, secondly did he make you cum?” His voice tones down gentle and caring. He lays her down and settles her head on the pillow and she's still fisting his shirt in her hands.

He grimaces when she shakes her head, her eyes owlish and glossy pointing down, “Everything was so dry that I wasn’t able to enjoy it ...” She winces remembering it and Harry cradles her face cooing delicately, “Oh Bambi. It was, ‘cos ye' weren’t aroused enough.” But, she’s now. With Harry ontop of her and being all warm and lovey and handling her as if she’s fine china, she could feel gooey wetness sticked to her thighs.

For first time in her life. She feels relaxed and light headed talking about it.

So, she continues, “ .. and it was bit disgusting, he came all over my tummy ‘cos he didn’t have a condom.” At this he grumps, his nostrils flares and pinches the bridge of his nose to keep him sane, “What a cheap bastard!” She giggles at his outrage and he just gives a fluttery smile to her shaking his curls.

He pets the sheen on her cheek away and gazes her sincerely, “You shouldn’t trust everyone and anyone, pet. ‘S a cruel world out there.” The fact that if he’d have came inside her boils Harry’s blood -- she'd have gotten the worst thing happen to her.

He just feels so protective of her. If he’d be able to keep her safe under his shield to scare away bastards like that guy he gladly will.

“Now, hear me Bambi eyed. We never have unprotected sex with strangers and never let ‘em make y’feel bad fo' wantin’ t’be pleasured .. if two people consent fo' it then both ‘ve to fulfil eachother’s desire. Am I clear?” His tone gruff and firm. She suckles her lower lip inside her mouth and nods quickly.

Something about him commanding and lecturing her making a fire fuse in the pit of her tummy and it makes her salivate down a whimper, which sure didn’t go unnoticed by Harry’s side and his lips are quirking into vivacious grin.

He’s retreating back between her legs keeping a cautious gaze on her as if she’s a prey and one move will wither her away, “’N fo’ being rough. I like it rough. Y'could d'all of that with me without being embarrassed.” His smirk dripping with wickedness and Y/N’s head jerks back at the thought of him seeing forward to do more of this with her.

His palm lays sturdy and pressed to her belly, his puckering lips against the inside of her thigh parts around a silent groan when he feels her belly quiver.

He embeds slobbery kisses to where she’s clenched impatiently for him and he pushes his fingers against her clit and slides them up and down between her puffy folds, love creating soppy filthy noises and gives a kitten lap to her then attaches his lip to her smudgy hole murmuring against her breathily to make her feel the electricity till her core.

“Will love havin' ye'tiny fingers pullin' at me hair with a swimy brain. Buckin'y hips into my mouth begging me to ruin yer cunt with my tongue and ‘ave me dancin' on y'palm, extractin’ out glutinous grunty moans within me chest -- it’ll not be just moans, no! —- a viscous toe curlin' sound that’d rumble savagely in my throat a warning fo’ you to keep these gorgeous thighs open fo' me to eat you out as I wish and my large hands will belt ‘round y'waist digging my nails into your dimples when you'll scratch my back ‘n it’ll leave angry marks behind — a reminder fo’ you how much I fuckin' loved you being horny as the deepest burnin' of hells.” She’s panting and sobbing for a cusp of breath manoeuvring her fingers in the tufts of his silky mess of curls and tugs at it and shoves her cunt, grinding against his chin. The softness of his cheeks glittering her bones and she’s falling wider apart from him, and he grins.

Noses at her throbbing clit and sucks it in her mouth and massages her pussy with her own lubrication and how much he picks it on his tongue she’s ready to give him more and he’s moaning with fierce ruby lips wrapping around her fluttering pussy folds, moving his mouth every where and it elicits a choppy whine from her.

“Fuck. Look at'y ... s'innocent but such a dirty little girl fo' me.” He dips his fingers merely into her and swipes up a cardinal push against her spongey wall and treats it back.

It’s too much for, Y/N. Everything. His wanton words better than those audios, his warm tongue on her and the strength of his arms holding her down, his flushed out cheeks and the teasing and teetering he's doing to give her an orgasm that sprays cosmic stars into her fogginess and she doesn’t even know that cloy moans of, “yes.yes.yes.” are dripping from her and he’s boring his face back into her when he latches away from her sweet pussy with the help of his elbow.

“I want you to say it.” There’s pause in the string of her racing heart and her brows hitches in confusion, though he doesn’t give her enough time and moves her pussylips apart letting his nails graze at them gently.

She’s squealing in surprise and jolting up with exhilarating sensation when he spits at her and watches it trickle down her bum, thick and honeyed with lust-fond eyes.

She’s erupting into startled moans when he grunts spitting again and makes her little cunt the messiest thing, “Say it. Say that yer dirty little —-,” She cuts him with a sharp and whiny yawp and plunges her nails into his shoulder making him hiss through his teeth.

“I’m a dirty little girl, f'you. Just you. Just you. Just you ....” Her voice tones down into coy whispers stuffed to the pillow as her body anchors stintingly from her bed and Harry’s hand slides from her torso down her ass and gropes at it keeping her coupled to his mouth as she coats his chin and his lips and his cheeks with her cum and his own spit and he’s murmuring grittily, “Yeah moppet. Mhmp. Come in me mouth. Fill it all, such a good girl.” He nips and tucks at her making her satiate through her high and places a kiss to her clit for the last time when she thrashes from sensitiveness before moving away.

“Sensitive lil thing ye'r.” He murmurs rubbing her thighs to coax her down and feels goosebumps prick on her skin, glances up and finds her a beautiful colour of pink and peach and her hair nested as a halo on the pillow.

She’s just so beautiful in many ways, it aches his heart.

He’s flopping to her side and poking her cheek earning a tick of ravenous smile and he watches as her irises moves under her closed lids.

“That was ... hmm.” She hums sluggishly knuckling at her eyes and Harry muses out a chuckle, before she could come up with a dentist joke he's cracking it himself sensing her gears working in that tiny head of hers, “Very filling?” That makes her hide her face into his neck and giggle.

“Yeah. Could say that.” She rests her chin on his shoulder and poses her brows questioningly when his stuffy pocket pokes at her thigh, “What’s that?” He didn’t realise he was too swamped in admiring the specks of her hazelness pouring with sunlight and he’s blinking back to re-start himself.

“Oh! This ..?” He’s taking out it slowly and she’s whining and shaking him to hurry up and he’s giggling at how impatient she could get when curious.

She holds it infront of her and it’s a cute green beanie with a little gucci embroidered at where it gets folded and her smile dejects when Harry speaks, “One of my colleagues gifted me this as a birthday present.” Why didn’t she thought about gifting him this for his birthday? Not that she has money for Gucci but they've been celebrating for three years and not once she didn’t get an idea that he wears beanies alot and mighty would like it?

Anyway, it’s far better than the painting of snowy and a mason jar filled with candy wrappers having her appreciations and dentist jokes written to their backside she gifted him, Y/N pouts thinking how she could’ve get him something useful.

Harry doesn’t care about materialistic things. He says that you could buy them anytime and that money is just the murk of your palm, it goes away in one wash -- the little shows of affection always are by your side in hard times.

“Hey Muffy...” He's yawning nudging her side noticing how she zones out and away from him, “D'ya have some chamomile tea?” Her chin slips from her shoulder at the sudden rasp.

“What? Why?” She gazes him. His body slumpy and tired over her and his mouth ajar cutely, she scratches his scalp lightly and swears that he let out the softest purr.

“Was in the operation theatre fo' hours now, just came from there -- emergency case. It was bad.” He emphasizes it getting a lisp a bit and she sits up closer to him.

“What happened to the person? She asks hoping they’re okay and have any hopes for recovery.

He just fiddles away the beanie from her grip and covers her head with it folding and adjusting it over her ears, “Not tellin' ya ...” He murmurs rubbing his nose into her arm and sniffs her saccharine scent. He knows that she doesn’t take the stories from his workplace well and it keeps her awake at nights, then she’s visiting the patient herself and Harry have to drag her out of his hospital every damn time.

She cares too much. Even for strangers. She’s too kind for her own sake and Harry thinks sometimes being selfish should be the latter option.

He squints open his one eye feeling her gaze fixated on him and huffs a lil, his little stubborn bambi, she wouldn’t let it go, “Fine. They were comin' back from a party and were high maybe -- car crashed badly dentin' towards the passenger’s side ‘n totally dislocated her jaw, now y’promise me you aren’t gettin' too worrisome ‘bout her because she’s okay.” Saying this he's cuddling back into her and she smiles a bit petting his back.

“Whatever, you say Dr. Styles.” He didn’t even need a tranquilizing tea anymore. Her warmth and squishiness was more than enough to lull him into a peaceful slumber.

..

It’s an otiose Saturday morning. Harry and Y/N just gobbled down oatmeal she made (topped with kiwis, mangoes and strawberries Harry brought from market and threw the bag in her lap) it had too much of coconut and sugar layer than necessary, according to Harry.

While she cleaned the countertops Harry fed and kissed the crowns of each one of their cat, yet again they were left with nothing to do —- that's how Y/N ended up straddling his waist, his jaw fit in her palm and his eyes half-open funnily as she applies a liner at his lid with her pink tongue poked out in concentration.

“Stop movin’,” She snits out in a huff and the skirts of his lips alleviates up into a cheeky evil grin, his hands pawing at her hips and his intentionally dirty gaze flitters down where her nipples are perking from the flimsy shirt and almost presses to his throat, “How'm supposed to when y’tits are ready to lactate me mouth?” Blush creeps up at her cheeks at his overweening and she wanted to give out an “Oh.” Instead grips his baby curls and steadies him, squishing his cheek in doing so as if he’s her toy.

“You better shut up, or ‘m gonna shove my feet up that smug mouth of yours.” She grumps to her own self when her fingers begins to twitch feeling her ear fill with hotness, “And what makes y’think ‘m not into that?” He rockets his brows priggishly with a grin that just screams he’s about to have a upper hand in this banter of their.

“Harry you disgraceful, man!” She whines trying to pull his face upright – he’s doing it on purpose trying to push her buttons and his eyes widens in feign hurt, “’M a very holy man!” His one eye adorned with charcoal coloured liner making him look adorable.

He’s far from any of that. They both know it. He’s a nerd slut if Y/N could put into words correctly.

“Yeah. Holy piece of a shit.” She grumbles pressing her bent knee into his side and quips a happy “Tada!!” grabbing the little from beside him and almost shoves it in his face demanding him to look at himself.

Harry brings his lips together and whistles looking at himself, “My murals should be painted everywhere in the city,” Y/N rolls her eyes. Nibbling down a scoff at his narcissism desperate to jump out and points at herself with a shrug of shoulders -- silently trying to telepath with him.

“What?” He murmurs nonchalantly angling his face to have a better look at him.

“Where’s the praise for artist?”

“Why need't when y'know ‘m an art myself.” His rims shine shamelessly and he nips the flesh of his cheek to stifle down a bashful cackle at her retort.

“You’re being too bold for a person who combusts in his pants just by getting his back scratched.” She arches her brow pruriently at him and he shakes his head, brushing the belly of his nose with his knuckle and when he gazes back at her -- she knows that she’s fucked fucked.

“Says who. The dirty little girl who's sitting on her bestfriend’s cock in her panties and shirt that’s doin’ nothin' but makin'y nipples button out shamelessly.” He tuts carnally, sinking into the plush cushions and man-spreads himself so wide Y/N could feel him pressing between her folds. His smirk rottenly sinful and evil and Y/N's palm automatically jams against his torso with a weepy mewl forehead falling against his clavicles.

She wanted to argue that he’s clad in boxers too but all of her sanity went out of the window when he teasingly grinded their crotches together.

“Y'want t'be treated like a bunny, who loves to hop on dick and fucked till you’re just a soft mush -- don't ya?” His hoarse drawl makes her bob her head eagerly making him chuckle and she’s tightening her thick thighs around his waist, hiding her face into the dive of his nice warm smelling neck and keeps her lips sponged to his skin making him grip on her hips with brutal force.

She’s just so sweet to Harry. A hot pink puddle at his mere touch and all clingy to him, shrinking into him with shyness and all of this just stirs his cock angrily sensitive.

He’s always getting a stiffy thinking about her and her honeyed taste he got to lap on and he's always smelling one of his pillows that has her fragrance loaded on it, while cupping his balls and stroking his cock lazily and hard, with other.

Though his assertive words wavers into a whimperish groan when Y/N takes her face out and gazes him with doe-warm eyes, “I w'na make you feel good.” Harry throbs under her and fattens against his own belly and feels her soaking against his boxers.

“Y'do? ‘s okay —.” His chest heaves with ragged breathes from anticipation and yearn and he knows that taking care of himself would be a torture if she’d tell him a, “no.” But then he isn’t that of a prick and is awfully happy to get what he’s getting, their infinite proximity.

His head teeters back and his pelvis buckles up when she clutched the hem of his sweatshirt and uttered a poutsih, “please..” She’s nourishing a breath and gazing up at him with glossy chocolate eyes blabbering while swivelling herself slowly ontop of him, “You’re looking s' pretty and cato eyes -—.. and you’re stuffed against me s'good. I want –- I want to make y'feel amazing.” Harry’s choking a growlish moan and the urge to just throw her on couch and snug his large cock deep within her.

Her brows pinches together and she has him grabbed from shoulders while she looks between them, listening to his purry hisses and lewd moans, it makes her redden her lip –- she could see his bulbous sherbet coloured tip coated in his own arousal wrestling out of his boxers as the fabric bunches and loosens down with each stroke of her cunt against him.

“Y'want to make me feel, amazin'? Fuck. You’re devastatin' me love -- yeah, mhmph hump me prick moppet.” Her eyelids lust filled and she moans against his chin as he breathes out a euphoric smile and Y/N gains a new confidence pushing herself down on his cock harder and firmer and faster.

The fabric of his boxers tickling his wet slit and he’s smushing his cheek into her soft chest, hugging and murmuring nonsense against her when Y/N sneaks her hand down and fills her hands with his heavy cum loaded balls and Harry doesn’t know how she was able to press him under the pad of her pinky in a span of minute.

Because he’s begging all for her mercy.

He howls a whine when she sucks his earlobe wetly and grazes it to speak in the sweetest yet licentious seductiveness and Harry’s almost naked under her, “Jeez. Hmm. Yes, just like that –- Bambi. My Bambi. Makes me feel — oh fuck!” His knuckles white from where he's groping the cheek of her ass and guiding her where her mound nudges him more good and drafts him straight to heaven.

“Tell me, huh. Who’s the dirty one now?” She smirks squeezing his balls yanking the sweaty ringlets on the base of his neck and they’ve their bodies on eachother, their hands on eachother and Y/N had an audacity to compete.

He’s trashing his spine into a curve and pulling her back down on his dick. She squeals when his cock grazes her pantie line and slips up and down against her cushiony thigh slobbering it with his pre-come.

“Me, me! Fuck .. pet, ‘s me ...” His hand tightens around her ribs and his hand tightens around her ribs and he’s dragging her back and forth -- socked toes curling and teeth gnawing at the pudding of her cheek. His thighs quaking and his strong forearms brings her closer to his chest, as the pressure coils in his stomach and the gentle caress and guttural bite on the slop of his collarbone was enough to burst spurts of cum in his boxers and it quenches onto his tummy and to the inside of her thighs making a sloppy mess.

“Shit.” He mutters through a chuckle. His chin butted atop her head and she giggles moving away.

Her shirt ridden up, her panties bunched up into her ass-cheeks and Harry admires her with a celestial flush on his skin and she circles her fingers together.

She just rode his prick dry and looks like she did the most innocent thing in the world.

“’M g'na go clean myself.” Harry smiles at her squealing pitch and then realization dawns upon him, she’s talking about his jizz on her tickling her skin getting flustered and knackered feeling it. Though, it’s not only his jizz but her panties are drenched into her own salvation making it see through and her wet pussy on display.

He just gulps and nod, like an atta puppy.

..

Lavish green leaves rustles together, the soil of green-belt moist and watered recently, early morning sky swirls of blues and it’s beautiful it really is the weather isn’t too sunny – the silence in his car is comforting too and the rum of his breath makes her feel nostalgic.

But, she wanted to sleep her arse off on Sunday and do nothing and be proud of being idle whole day. Harry had different plans though –- he was jumping on her bed making her wobble on it in her sleepy state and dragged her to washroom how much she whined and fought with him.

“Oh. C’mon now, muffin .. it’ll be fun, Ni would be there too.” He tries to reason her and she just brings her knees up into her and closes her eyes, muttering in monotone.

“Nothing’s fun about golfing, Harry.” It’s little get together of his colleagues and the doctors from his hospital and Harry thought he'd die from boredom if he wouldn’t bring her with him, he isn’t one bit of interested into old men talking about how their third wife drools over them – he isn’t very fond of lies.

“Not even me? How could y’say no to me?” He gasps dramatically. Scrunched his nose and twitches his lips in fake offend.

She opens her eyes for a moment and stares at him, “Just like that,” Pinches his elbow and shrugs nonchalantly.

“Harry, no.”

“Yeah, Whatever.” He rolls his lips between his fingers and takes a turn and when they reach he's putting sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, unfolding her arms that are wrapped around herself and nudges her to be less grumpy.

“’Ve a reputation yeah .. be less frumpy.” She pokes her tongue out and Harry lurches his hand forward scaring her that he'd grab it.

“Those dilfs already kisses the tips of my shoes.” She hops out of the car and clasps her hands atop of her head stretches out and yawns out loudly.

Harry’s head perks up alarmingly at that from the boot of his car and he swings the golfing kit on his shoulder and rolls his eyes from under his sunnies, pushing her forward with a small hand on her back.

“Yeah, more like grandpas.” The thought just makes him feel icky and utterly gross – imagining those old doctors —- no he completely wants to brain wash himself.

“Bet, their willies would need heavy assistance —-,” He’s grinning abrasively down at her and she winced swatting his chest, “Harry!” She’s wiggling out of his hold and striding towards where Niall is waving them in utter excitement.

Harry pouts and stomps behind her, calling out for her to slow down and scowls when a grin makes a way at her face as Niall hugs her.

Niall showed her his little nips and tricks. While Harry looked at them with needy eyes from far stuck between the bunch of boring doctors and dentists and his lips visibly downturns when Niall trips and Y/N’s falling on her bum, clutching onto her side with a belly aching laugh.

Ni helps her stand back and it was when a women in pink sports short and Nike tee trudged towards them and Harry at the same moment and Y/N just stares with confusion as they hug and she’s smiling up at him brightly.

“Sorry. I lost the time check.” Harry’s parting away with a shrug, “Not tha' somethin’ special occurred.” and Y/N’s doe-curious eyes remains fixed on them and he's introducing the unknown women to her and Niall’s poking her side to revive her back to mighty world.

“Muffy? She’s one of my colleagues, Holly.” Y/N startled a bit then gives out a nervous smile forwarding her hand to shake it with her and Holly’s pony flails comically from the action.

Soon, she’s turning her attention back towards Harry and smiling up at him questioningly, “Did you rest well after leaving the hospital on Friday?” Y/N just fumbles with Harry’s rings on her knuckles -- not sure if she should go back to golfing with Niall or stay to take part in little conversation because Niall is growing very antsy.

“Yeah. I did, actually .... very well if y'ask so,” Harry's shimmering gaze lurks back on Y/N and she internally groans when he smirks remembering the event and she wants to glare him from the side of her eye.

She’s stepping aside quickly when Holly passes by them and towards the table full of breakfast and beverages.

She pours two cups of coffee and adds two teaspoon of sugar, handing one to Harry and Y/N wants to retort that he doesn’t like coffee and hell not that amount of sugar.

“And Y/N what would y'like coffee, tea?” Holly asks her and Y/N just chuckles gingerly when Harry looks ike he's about to gag when he takes the first sip.

“I don’t drink coffee.” Holly looks like she just saw the end of the world and Y/N holds back from rolling her eyes at her, she's giving her an aura that she doesn’t like Y/N even a bit.

“No? Why?”

“Guess I never needed that much caffeine, my job doesn’t require staying up late and all that ...” Holly sips on her coffee and leans against a chair raising a her brow at her and then asks.

Her style being uptight and arrogant just not sitting right with, Y/N.

“What is your profession?” This ferals Y/N into her thinking pot, is that even a profession? She doesn’t really know and she’s in her own headspace when Harry’s soft eyes worms back to his bambi and his eyes glints with ever proud and his smile toothy and bunny as he puts the cup aside speaking with a hint of fond.

“She’s an artist. A very talented one.” Holly arches her brow at him and hums then looks back at her -- as if she didn’t heard him right.

“So, you make art for living?”

“I do it beacuse I like doing it, just like you.” Y/N chips up and Harry just thinks his admiration grows terribly more every day for her -- because of the passion about anything she holds in that big heart of hers, the way her cheeks rubies up and brows sets into concentration.

That shuts Holly and her train of personal irritating questions.

“Hey! We aren’t here fo' some princess tea party -- can we please, go back to golfing!?” Niall finally bursts like a balloon from annoyance and Y/N's giggling and hooking her arm into his elbow, “You’re sucha cry baby.” She coos and tries to walk him back to pitch but then her gait stutters when Holly asks Harry in an expectant tone.

“Did you like my present?” Why does it layers her chest with mucky awful feeling, her stomach itself tottering and she just huffs thinking how that present sits in her drawer and she’s the one that wears it instead of Harry.

“Oh, I liked it, thank you.” Fucking liar. Y/N just shakes her head and chuckles ironically because he forgot about it the moment he gave it to her.

Y/N’s toes itches with an impulse to expose Harry infront of her.

Where’s that feisty Harry ready to bite anyone expect her and his little group of friends? What did this job do to him? Oh my goodness! Why Y/N is hating all of this so much, why why why!?

Y/N's completely being an over dramatic (she knows that) but she couldn’t help but be bitter about this Holly “oh I could woo Harry just by giving him some beanies from an overly expensive brand.” Gahk! Not in a millennia.

“’Kay, pet now you make yer goal.” Niall shouts squinting to get rid of sunlight in his eyes and Y/N was so engulfed in thinking of how the slight interest and undivided attention of Harry towards Holly makes her feel woozy and something that’s indescribable, until now. That’s when someone came behind her bended figure she – almost making her squeal but he’s shushing her sweetly -- the corner of his lips pressing to the side of her hairline and he takes in her fresh lilies scent.

Two soft beautiful boned structure hands comes raking from her shoulders down her wrists, jostling her almost as he wraps his hands around her sweaty ones and brings the golf club back in air.

“Let's fill those holes together,” His smooth rasp prickles the hair on her body in a most stinging way and she's subsiding down a blush, frowning and unfrowning to concentrate back on playing -- but it’s a fucking torture when his bulging member prominent from his tight little shorts lines up against her bum teasingly.

He was very aware of the big problem that stood between them and she’s turning with his arms still on either side of her -- doing a little knocking on his chest to gain his attention.

“You’ve —-... umm ..” She stammers. Cheeks peachy and her smile nervous. Harry hums in dither gazing down at her softly and that flusters her to living heavens.

Then his eyes follows where she’s staring in curiosity and gentleness and as if she’s ready to take him in her mouth right then and there.

He’s got a stiffy and that in public!

“Oh shit. Sorry, I wasn’t awa —-,” He's creating a little distance between them but she’s quick to grab the hem of his shirt and pulling him closer back to her, “No. No. ‘s okay. I could ‐—.. I could help you ....,” She mutters in a tizz with a hitchy breath and Harry’s dimples indents, cushy smile dancing on his lips and his pinky’s swiping the loose tresses behind her ear.

“If you want to...” She doesn’t know what’s making her more anxious the fact he'll brush her off or that he'll accept her help, but this latter option fills her insides with gales of mushiness and it makes her unsettle her footing.

“I’d love that.” He grins and she’s smiling up at him and Harry screams internally like a teenager at how she manages to be so tender and silken like a gorgeous doll in the most filthiest situations.

He keeps her infront of him to hide the potential tent in his shorts that appeared from no-where, he's being sly and clearly knows that where it came from --- from gawking her peach ass till it wasn’t printed in his mind and he didn’t even know when he was drooling at the thought of squishing her asscheeks and rolling his thumb against her puckering hole and imagining her cute lil whines for him to bore down his thumb into her till she feels his lion ring against her flesh, throwing her hips at him more —- shut up!

Though when the group of men stops them with their evil gazes on his little bambi and they’re smirking up at Harry in mischievousness, “Where you sneakin' Y/N too?” They hollered and Harry had to ball his hand on her hips and bite back from rolling his eyes sharply and rudely,

Because who the fuck they’re to ask? He could take her anywhere and why they do act like they fucking know Y/N from summat eternity, that makes him want to snap at these snobs and warn them not to ever take a step near her.

Ofcourse, he’s very well aware that their intentions towards his sweet bestfriend are evil and filthy -- he wants to punch each one of them at that.

“Just to show ‘er the lake behind,” He's giving them a tight lipped smile and leaving them baffled without giving them more to talk and Y/N giggles at his huffy-ness and pets his knuckles feeling his skin beginning to fume and turn hot against her neck.

Moments later, he's sitting on the bench of empty steam room carmine lips parted and plush are mooched to Y/N's upper belly, his long arms tipsy around her thighs and hair floppy caramel and his palm splays on the side of her waist under her shirt coveting his nails lightly into her pudgy skin – as her soft hand stays dipped into his shorts and she strokes him in gradual pace.

He’s jerking back hitting his head against the vertical mirror that covers the whole wall when she presses her thumb into his palpating tip of cock to coax out his white stickiness and uses it to coat and lube his dick and caress it, “’S’okay c’mere, honey. You’re okay.” She coos cupping the nape of his neck and brings him back to let him bury his face into her pulpy body and kisses his hair, sliding her hand under his jaw to soothe him.

Harry moans uncontrollably and tries to muffle them with choked sobs upon hearing her go all soft on him and he thinks, “honey” Is his new favourite word from now on coming from her mouth and he wants to be called honey from her all the time.

She doesn’t know where the confidence of sweet talking to him came from but the menace for Holly and her being overly sugary with him, just poked her in weird place and she wants to claim where he belongs.

To her.

Always her.

“Bet, your big cock was all achy and weepy for my attention.” She pouts slopping all the way down to his chubby shaft and tightens her grip jerking him speedily. Harry bobs his head vigorously and eagerly hugging her ever close and babbles wetly so she scratches his scalp and almost raises her hips into him when his happy and satisfied mewls fuses into her ears.

“Been —-.. been, fuck!” He gasps bolting shut his eyes when she widened her slick palm down and massaged his heavy taut balls – shaking them playfully with a giggle bitten down her throat, “Been thinkin' ‘bout you whole lot – yer such a doll.” He sighs and she sponges a peck to the side of his forehead.

“Yeah?” Her eyes glints with adore and meekness for him and when he nods with euphoric slipped eyes and rosy cheeks snuggling himself into her she mighty cried a lil.

“G’na cum for me? In my hand? Been treating you so good, honey. Love your cock –- always oozy and slick for me and your moans —- can y'moan fo' me? Show them on whose pinky you’re wrapped on.” She’s breathless but the tenderness and fondness in her voice never fades and Harry’s almost tomato grinding his hips on the bench fucking himself into her palm and brags his teeth together hissing through it.

“G'na cum. G’na cum fo'y and —- oh!” Guttural heavy loud moans are eliciting down his tongue and he’s groaning and whimpering and thrashing under Y/N shooting his gloopy spunk inside her palm and she doesn’t stop, coating his whole eternity with his own cum and digs out some more droplets from his tummy to soak into the pride that she’s the reason he’s this fucked up and ravenous and shaking under her.

She’s throwing her legs on either side of his thighs next and he’s gazing at her intensely from under his thick lashes with lovingness all slumped against the mirror and she’s ducking down to stitch her nose up against his nose and giving him an eskimo kiss and Harry’s lips accommodating back for a nice breather are tingling to lean in and place them on hers in a dotting heart swarming kiss but a knock's interrupting them and she’s quipping back a squeal and jumping on her toes.

Guess she'd just clean her fingers by licking them since there’s no water.

..

Y/N was painting one of her commission works and for her coming exhibition when Truggers came meowing at her and scraping onto floor, “What d'you want bub?” She asks wiping her fingers on the rag and puts the brush into water cup.

She follows Truggers to their bassinet and almost slips straining her ankle from rushing panicked towards Tum who's jerking in his sleeping position.

She hawks in shock, fear and trembling horror. Her ears deafening. She’s shouting at him and shaking him with tears in her eyes, “Tums? Tummies? Baby!! Wake up!” She cries but the cat doesn’t respond.

“No. No. No!!” She shakes her head sobbing loudly bringing her knees up to her chest and holds her head in her hand not knowing what to do, she calls Rori and she doesn’t even know how much time passed and Rori's hugging her and comforting her taking other kittens to room so they don’t see Tums.

“Call Harry! Call him, please, please, please .... Rori ....” She sobs feeble and painful into Rori's neck and she shushes Y/N. She really tries to but she knows that only Harry could manage to calm her down and she rings him many many times but he doesn’t pick up.

“Harry! I’ve been calling you for ages for fuck’s sake where are you?” So, when he's excusing himself telling that he was having lunch and Holly’s voice is booming through Rori's phone Y/N’s heart drops and shatters into gazillion pieces.

She may not be in right mind, but she’s seriously hurt because Harry never in million years ignore her calls.

Guess having lunch was far important than her or her calls.

It just makes her cry more.

“Wait. What’s happening?” Goosebumps layers on his skin when he hears Y/N crying and he walks away without telling Holly he’s heading out.

“Harry ... Tums, he died in his sleep.” Harry halts in his tracks. Staring at the parking sign blankly and his eyes fills with tears and his breath shudders as he tries to speak, “’M coming.”

..

Rori left and took Tums with her after tucking Y/N in bed and making sure she’s okay.

Her ears perks up when the door clicks softly accompanied by low sniffles and it pools more moisture in her eyes and the tears trick down her chin and onto pillow — because hearing him cry is just so agonising.

“Muffy ...” The mattress dips behind her and he’s scooching close to her planting his cheek against her shoulder.

His warmth melts her but she recoups wiping her eyes dry and wavers in a thorny voice, “Go away.” She distances herself from him and turns stiff.

“Moppet, please ...” He protests and she hampers herself from snapping at him.

“Go away, Harry. Leave!!” She's muffling her cries into pillow and when she faces him – Harry's chin wobbles because his muffy looks terrible and awfully sad and it’s breaking him weakly and perfectly.

“Why don’t y'go back to whatever you were doing with Holly!” She gasps moistly for a breather and Harry stands up, nose red and runny and eyes bloodshot.

“Jus’ say yer’ jealous.” He wants to be fierce with her about what she said but his voice barely comes out without being shaky and his heart is full of sorrow.

“And if I say I’m, then what?” She’s pathetically hiccupping (continuously) so much her neck hurts and she has never sound so uncertain and pleading and expectant to know if he might love her?

That if there’s something more between them than just providing eachother pleasure and being eachother’s missing half when they were lonely.

More, than just two bestfriends being eachother’s back of the hand.

He doesn’t respond and she shouts for him to stop and answer her and throws a cushion towards him, but he just leaves her to it.

Harry’s just worried she isn’t ready to take either of his confessions well.

..

Snowy sits in her lap. Max and Luna (Rori's girlfriend) are wrestling onto the mattress they took from Harry's bed and laid on the floor, (which he'd grump about when he'll be too pissy to move it back in the late night).

He’s been cranky and acting proper ratty with anyone and everyone he comes to interact with since that day.

He felt like his world turned upside down because now everything’s just against him, his milk gets soggy every morning and all of his socks and hoodies are at his little thief's home and snowy takes revenge from him for hurting Y/N by pissing on his shoes everytime he’s about to leave.

Cherry on creamy top!

He just couldn’t stop thinking about his bambi and might have chewed his fourty years old assistant ears with his rambling of Y/N and his endearment for her and unfortunately he just ficked up bad.

“’M so hungry. If Ni will cheat another round on me, I’ll be munching on his toes!!” Y/N exclaims huffing out and kicking Niall in shin as they were playing Mario cart and he’s been winning for an hour just by his cheating tricks.

They all got together after many days at Harry’s flat while he was at the duty and he promised them that he’d bring pizzas with him and now it’s almost 12 and they’re waiting and waiting in anticipation for him to arrive.

When the door knob jiggles everyone’s jumping up and scrambling closer to the door because they all are that hungry and Harry’s hands are piled with pizza boxes, soon their hungry excited expressions are dulling into annoyance and viscid displeasure when Holly peeks from behind Harry.

Still all of them manage to plant fake smiles and everyone’s greeting her.

“What took you guys s'long?” Y/N speaks lowly through a forced smile the one that doesn’t reaches her eyes and doesn’t make them appear as they are pools of earthly soil, “Oh .. we just stopped to buy some muffins -- Harry told me how much you like them, Bambi.” Oh fuck. There goes the pressure cooker blasting and rattling through each and every wall of this room and the tension thickens around and Luna's coughing and everyone is just treading back to their spots awkwardly and with disappointed sorry sighs for Holly because if before Y/N didn’t hold a grudge against Holly now she’d.

Because, for fuck’s sake!!! Nobody, calls her that except Harry!

It was their own intimate little sweet love name that Harry calls her and her only.

Not even their friends.

Not even Niall.

Just him.

Him.

Him.

And.

Him.

Now, she just came from out of the fucking blue and popped their bubble of intimacy and Y/N feels like one of those anime characters where they've a frown hanging on their head larger than their size and there’s fire enveloping them before she bursts out in rage and scream at Holly and Harry too.

She sighs. She’s far better than creating a scene and gladly accepts the box of muffins from Holly whose smile is overly sugar coated and this is what Harry says when he tells her he doesn’t like sugar in much amount – it’s irksome, Y/N’s talking about humans specifically.

“’s not even my favourites.” She mumbles staring at the vanilla strawberry muffins and Holly just shrugs and Harry gets tensed keeping his voice hushed while Rori and Him unboxes the pizzas in the kitchen, “Just thought a change would be good.” Y/N’s throat clogs up just at that. She finds it hard to even gulp down the piercing emotions piling up there.

Y/N just hates changes.

Holly wants to change everything about Harry and his surroundings, even this dinky flat he lives in —- he’s a dentist why’d he live here?

Holly tries not to grimace.

“You know Y/N hates changes, Harry I know that you guys might not be serious but we all are well aware that you too —-- fuck, Harry! Why are you fucking it up!” Rori whisper yells at him as they throw the empty boxes frantically and hurriedly to go back to living room and handle the situation before it gets out of hand.

“Ontop of that. Why did ya bring, Holly with you!? She isn’t ... well she isn’t much par to any of our likings.” Harry just runs his hands through his curls and he knows that it’s afflicting Y/N, his baby muffy who wouldn’t even see him in eye since that incident and he really wishes that all of this ends soon.

“What d'I do!? she’s my staff head and I’ve to play nice to her.” He squeaks out in a bit panic and he’s exhausted and tired and really running out of his Bambi's cuddles but she wouldn’t even let him set foot in her flat.

Even though how much he argued that, “Remember y’said this’s our one big home? Well I could be in me home whenever I want.”

Though when they're out with bright smiles and announcing that food is here, acting as if him and Rori didn’t just had an ASMR argument in kitchen.

Harry’s heart. The each chamber of his heart got cut up into pieces and fell somewhere in his stomach when he hands the plate to Y/N and she takes it without meeting his eyes, starving him off her sweet butterflies wooshing smile and tries to avoid from getting any physical contact between their fingertips and cuddles back into Ni's side as if she’s utterly cold.

She’s jealous and hurt and furious that Harry has mighty revealed their intimate nitty gritty details to Holly.

All of that aside. She’s very sad and lost and feels lonely all over again because she has no-idea that what are they, where they stand out of their bestfriends bubble and if whatever happened between them was fever dream?

“What happened, pet? Not hungry? Y'were ‘bout to munch us alive seconds ago.” Niall chuckles gingerly and nudges her as she just hovered her pizza on her plate and never brought it to her mouth.

Harry wipes his hand on his jeans listening that and Holly’s side eyeing him gauging for his reaction and her face hitches up into displeasure when he stands up and strides towards Y/N in two long steps.

“D'ya want another flavour? Is it cold? We could order somethin' else if you want to ....” His voice caring and antsy and he’s contemplating whether to sit beside her and coax her to eat but she’s chewing onto it and shrugging, speaking with a mouth full and yet again never sparing him a single glance.

“No, ‘m good.”

Holly judges Y/N’s battiness and locks up the urge to roll her eyes at this girl who Harry’s so whipped for -- she could ramp him under her feet (which Y/N would never – Holly’s just a mean ass who likes to think negatively about everyone) and he'd still beg her to do it all over again.

Holly just loves to be a victim in situations where she doesn’t even have a role, but still tries to fit in as a victim.

The truth is. She wants Harry bad. And, it’s all written clear on her face.

Their hang out didn’t take the route they planned for it to be and Y/N was heading out early conscious of Harry’s gaze on her all the time when Rori yelled enthusiastically with a bright proud grin, “Everyone's invited to Y/N's painting exhibition on Sunday, aren’t we Y/N!?”

Harry’s head snaps towards each of his friends like a lost puppy and when all of them are smiling and nodding their heads in agreement his eyes just brawls out and he feels like crying and throwing a tantrum because she didn’t tell him about it! and even if not, he didn’t got a chance to be the first one to tell her how proud he’s of her.

Rori winces when Harry rushes behind Y/N and the door's shutting behind leaving them in awkward silence again.

“You didn’t care t’tell me? ‘s such a big mo' fo'y.” He scowls. Folding his arms infront of his chest and Y/N grumbles stomping her feet onto floor.

“You were too busy —-..”

He knows what’s about to come next. The taunt and fight and something heartbreaking that’d slip from their tongues and hurt them brutally and part them away, “Baby.” He’s sighing rubbing the knot on his forehead and him calling her baby was enough to mush her into a candy floss.

“Yell at me. Punch me. Brake me nose. D'ye thing but pleaseee don’t gimme a silent treatment ...,” His eyes glossy and Y/N kinda feels remorseful and she might not give into him that easily but she isn’t to be blamed because she’s just so putty in his embrace and he could win her heart all over again as many times he wishes.

Though when she’s speaking to him after long period of four days and nine hours and cursing him out he’s still very thankful and gleeful grinning and scooping her up in his arms, “You’re a downright asshole you know that? One of our baby cat died and you were too busy havin' lunch with that, witch.” She isn’t hiding her hatred for Holly anymore and Harry cackles infuriatingly loud and brushes his cheek against her neck.

“’M sorry. Not g'na do tha' evea' again swear on me life.” He mumbles coherently.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He’s hooking their pinkies together and kissing them to seal the affirmation.

..

Harry loves BDSM. Something he explored upon lurking around a sex club when he was right about to turn eighteen, of which oh so Y/N's savvy about from all those nights where she could be able to hear guys and girls howling like they got fucking murdered even sitting in the farthest cubby of her own home.

She'd not argue to him about that because of her shyness and second the music that she used to blast through speakers while painting, so they were equal.

He was quite peculiarly never interested in having romantic relationships with people -- he was just interested in what’s between their legs and sometimes their mouth.

But with Y/N. With Y/N he wants to make love to her. Lit sweet warm scenting candles that’d sheen their skins with ardour and have vases filled with flowers and cook her a dish she likes – then they share a glass of wine (optional) if they want to remember it all.

He wants to have every nice and warm thing with her, things he never got to experience.

He wants to love.

To love her.

He never really exposed himself to words like amity, adoration and intimacy. Thinks that those words are too big for his heart which’s too compact for someone to build a home in.

He hated certain stuff. On purpose. Like scrabble when his father and his friends made fun of him for liking scrabble and he kicked that shit so hard it tensiled into space — or he thinks so because he never saw it laying on his childhood floor ever after that.

Then again, Y/N came into his life and brought his scrabble back (teased him that she stole it from some kid that lives downfloor) they play whenever they could and ends up fighting everytime because, zzz isn’t a word but Harry claims it is for people who snores like they're gonna choke into their pillow next moment.

He hated interacting with people. Don’t even have an idea how he got these bunch of maniacs as his friends and then Y/N, he just thinks she’s made specially for him only carved from the cream of tenderness, beauty of love and sent upon to him like an Angel.

Harry hates sugar. But, yet again he likes no scratch that -- he loves Y/N so it doesn’t even matter.

At the moment when he’s crowded by gushing and whispering and laughing people. Praising and chatting and loving on his Bambi —- he feels like the word hate never existed in his life because all he could feel his heart is floating in copious amount of love for his Bambi as he stands in the corner letting his eyes admire her in affection.

He takes a sip of white wine from his glass and hisses when plays with his earlobe out of instinct and ends up prodding himself from where he pierced his ear two hours ago.

A smile so tiny but full of elation and lilac-ness twirls on his relaxed face upon reminiscing it – his eyes falling at her trousers and he gives himself an imaginary pat on back.

“You’re gonna repay me by ironing my trousers.” She told him standing between his parted legs and he scooted closer to the edge of counter and grabbed her teeny hands compared to his's and puts them over his thick thighs, “Whateva' y'say ma'am. ‘course now ye’re ‘bout to become a sexy artist with her own gallery ‘n all tha’.” He smirked and she rolled her eyes dabbing the cotton ball with alcohol and swapped his soft earlobe with it.

“’S not mine.” She murmurs and Harry woven his fingers with her's and tugged her forward. Lips brushing her temple and he shrugged, speaking, there’s nothing for her to be insecure about, if no one's proud of her, he is, he always gonna be, “Does it matter? Those paintings are yours. That room will be filled with your talent – ye're g'na own one soon, mark me words.” His grip tightened when she rubs her hand at his chest to warn him beforehand and he feigned that he’s scared and horrified to make her anxious about it.

“You’re sick in head you know that?” She mumbles grounding down the shakiness of her wrist as she poked the needle through his earlobe and his voice just did a lil loopy-loop as he spoke, “Yeah ... many patients tell me when I don’t give ‘em enough anaesthetic and rip their teeth out.” She blinked up at him with wide eyes and smacked him when he just slumped down against the mirror if nothing happened, his rims floaty and blown out.

Sometimes he jokes too seriously it startles, Y/N.

“You could say an ouch, atleast. Big man.” She giggled taking the needle out and puts a black cross earning after cleaning his brand new piercing, “Ouchhh!” He moaned out dramatically, fingers gliding down his skin under his eyes to reveal pink flesh and blue veins and his eyeballs.

“You’re an ass! Now go iron my trousers D’ya want me to go bottomless?” She chortled out loudly and her laugh boomed through the small washroom when Harry’s hand spanked her bum playfully, “Perhaps tha’ is what I’d never want in any case – even if I’ve to showcase me bum to everyone.”

“Harry?” She’s gazing up at him with deer eyes and tugging at his blazer to gain his attention, “Everyone’s gone?” He looks behind to get the sight of their friends laughing and chatting.

“Yeah.” Harry’s heart tweaks upon hearing her exhausted and sluggishly soft voice. She giggles into his cheek when he slings his arm around her shoulder and runs his nose up and down her head walking towards their equally tipsy friends.

“Everyone lets bunch up to give, Muffy a cuddle.” Harry drawls out. His warm breath tickling her neck and everyone just roars out gathering around them and giving them a big bear hug and Y/N's eyes turns glossier because she’s feel so loved and cared.

Just because of Harry.

When they see off their friends, Y/N isn’t rushing back to her agency’s manager to ask how much paintings she sold instead she’s snuggling into Harry’s embrace and let’s him escort them out and into the cool wind.

“You really deserve chocolate muffins, don’t ya, pet?” His chin doubles as he tries to take a look at her satisfied and relaxed face as they trod on the side of road like two penguins providing heat to eachother.

They’ve drunk quite a nice amount of bevvies. Enough that mighty would make them forget the events that are happening now and that’s nice because they could be embarrassing and cringey with having to think about it later.

“No.” Harry grabs her hand that was about to push the door of the lil bakery and she’a huffing up at him and swatting his hand away with a loud thwack, “’M an independent woman, H.” He just slides her hand away -- retorting with a smile, “And’m a gentleman.”

She squints up at him with scrunched up pouty lips and he’s mimicking her squinting her square in the eye. The clock ticks by and they break into a hand wrestling and he’s squeaking out childishly when she pinches his wrist but he’s coming back with scissor fingers demanding her to do a “stone, papers, scissors.” Fight with him.

When he’s wiggling his fingers in fire gesture she’s groaning out and throwing her arms in air, “Fire beats everything!!” He yells duckishly and spins around doing a little dance.

“Fine.” She grumps folding her arms around her torso and he’s ducking down to smooch annoying kisses to her cheeks and all over face.

Harry’s forearms remains roped around her waist and his chin rests ontop of her head, her back stays pressed to his taught warm chest whole time. Every two minutes or so she raises the muffin she’s eating to his lips and he’s taking a chunky bite out of it as they trod their way back home.

“Dun, dun dun dunnnn, do do ...” She giggles when he sways them. His chest rumbling with his deep drunk octave and she cups his cheek.

“What you singing, honey?” He just giggles clinging to her and hides his face into her neck – murmurs then takes himself out of her fragrance and shouts into the air.

“The pink panther’s song!!” She woofs out a laugh at that and he shoves his face into his palm, wheezing out cutely, “I'know y'laughin' ‘cos ‘m sayin' stupidddd things.....,”

The bunny vociferous laughs that emits from their bellies, tumbles them to the ground and the moment they look towards eachother they burst into more giggles.

Y/N scrambles towards where he’s clutching his side and rolls to face her and she crawls up his chest.

It feels good to waste time on the footpath when their hold on eachother’s this soft, warm and meaningful and full of love.

Their cheeks coral, their grins achy and their eyes gleamy ---- hands wandering and comforting eachother, cuddly and sottish and cosy laying right outside their the homes building.

He hugs her closer to him. She snuggles herself into him and worms into a touch starved shrimp and the words are on the tip of his tongue, they’ve been shown in his sentiments with zeal and passion in past and now they’re bouncing in his chest.

Though, he gulps them back.

He really couldn’t.

“I love you,” It flows away in the wind but she catches onto it and flies with it and pushes herself up on his chest blinking in perplexed rapture.

He’s breathing it out again. This time maybe slurry from inebriation but clear and audible, “oh my god baby .... I love you s'fuckin’ much.” He cradles her face in his palms and slides his forehead against hers.

“You love me?” She whispers and he giggles at her bewildered expression and bobs his head, “That’s what ‘m sayin' pet.”

She knows that she loves him too. More than anybody. Every inch of her body soaks into the word love for him.

She pauses for a moment, “How — but, I mean –- What did I do?” He just shrugs, “Dunno.” His dimples foaming deep and pretty.

“I just think we would be a good us,” At that her head perks up kitten like and she moulds her palms around his either side of neck as if he’s her warm chocolate cuppa, she smiles slowly, “We'd be a wonderful us.” Her gaze glitters on his wine moisturized pink lips and she gives him an eskimo kiss.

“Gimme a kiss then,” She demands pursuing her lips adorably but he shakes his puff of curls and pushes her face back gently, “No!” Her brows pinches together at that and she pokes his dimple pouting sadly.

“But, why?”

“I don’t wanna forget our first kiss.” He whines and paws at her hips to bring her back closer to him and she giggles muttering a silly under her breath and tries to tempt him.

“Kiss me, in this way ... we could have our firsts twice!” He gives into her mischievous offer and sighs cradling her face in his hold and murmurs against the corners of her lips, “Only ‘cos you’re cute and wouldn’t stop peskin'.” She’s grinning and pulling him with her hands and smashing her petal lips against his's, their eyelids springs close and he’s squishing her chasing to deepen the kiss and when she's parting away he’s rushing to peck her lips right back to kiss her more.

“I could really cry just by kissin' you, moppet.” He licks the spots of chocolate from her chubby bottom lip and bites it and she’s melting her mouth again over him, kissing him delicately and sweetly having a certain desire and yearn to just star into one soul that balms there tummies.

“W’na kiss you forever.”

Harry never believed into forevers.

Then Y/N wrapped him in her oh so Y/N-ish blanket and now he wants everything with her for, forever.

“Oh. Hush baby. You’re gonna gimme a tooth ache.”

..

Y/N regrets saying that. Because she’s waking up with a headache, blurry vision and churning stomach ontop of every pain the ache in her tooth came to bite her in ass and she’s hissing grabbing her cheek to soothe it down.

“Fuck my —- damn hell ...” She mutters when even the slightest of air in her mouth stings her tooth like a bitch and it dollops tears on the corners of her eyes because she has never gone through a toothache before.

She’s bargaining in Harry’s flat and into his room and he’s properly wafted, face smashed into his elbow as he wheezes through his parted mouth. She’s shaking him gently because the shrivelling drive of pain is growing after every second.

“Harry!” He’s jolting up and snapping his head in every direction instantly his sleepy gaze melts on her (a sight he'd like to have every morning) but she looks rather rotten with a nest on her head and her last night’s clothes crumbled and when she's quipping an, “It hurts Harry ....” With teary eyes, He’s immediately scurrying closer to her and holding her -- confused at first.

“What's hurtin', pet?” He mumbles groggily and she sniffs, “My tooth –- fuck.”

He sighs knuckling at his eyes and kisses her hair throwing the duvet away, “Sit here yeah? ‘m g'na wash me hands real quick and check it, hmm?” He wipes the corner of her eyes and massages her shoulder -- then unfists her hands to make her release some tension and puts them on her knees.

He’s muttering a, “Good girl.” When she nods obediently and watches his back as he trudges inside the washroom.

Coming back with towel in his hands and throws it on the bed while sitting on his knees and adjusts her between them.

“Can y'open a bit mo' f'me, darling?” He asks gently caressing her hip to loosen her up. He already knows what's about to come next and he’s afraid she’s going to be very batty about the procedure, “Aaaaa.” She practically makes the noise trying to part her jaw as far as she could while Harry’s hand remains intact around it inspecting her mouth and she’s anxious that she has a morning breath but the memories of all those time she would practically drool on his cheeks while sleeping makes her feel less awful about it,

He chuckles tapping lightly on her upper moral, “Ow!” She swats his hand away when his action physically makes her whole body go through a pang.

When she looks up at him with ticked brows and huffy pout biting the flesh of her cheek between her two morals to just do something -- anything to get rid of the pain, Harry rubs the frown away with a grimace and brings her for a hug.

“’M s' sorry baby. But, looks like it’ll need a root canal.” If his bambi wouldn’t be in such pain he indeed would have lectured her and thrown away every sweetened thing in her jars out of the window.

“Can y'endure a lil pain and wait till my last appointment? So, I could take care of you afterwards.” He asks her lovingly and his reasoning makes butterflies erupt in Y/N’s belly and she almost almost forgot about her toothache but then it pangs again and she’s hugging him tighter mumbling into him, “Sure.”

He’s making her change her clothes and made her porridge letting it cool down to a temperature where it wouldn’t stick or ache her teeth.

“Y/N ...” He glowers at her sternly when she pushes his hand away holding the painkillers and that intense ferocious glare where his soft jade eyes are turning into something very dark is enough to tell her that if she’s not taking them, there's a big scold coming and after that no leniency for an argument so she takes it without throwing another tantrum.

After making sure she’s fed well and tucked into bed he’s stroking her hair and massaging her head, adjusting her pillow as she likes, kissing the tip of her nose as he murmurs.

“Rori will be pickin’ y’up sharp at 5. Told her to wake you up gently if you’ll be sleepin’.” Her eyes are dreamily glassy and she smiles lightly and she’s already missing his touch on her skin when he stands back up ready to leave.

She really wanted to say it.

Dying to say it, infact.

But all that came from her mouth was, “I’m gonna miss you.” Earning a giggle from him in return.

“G’na miss you terribly too.”

..

Rori drove Y/N to hospital. She’s still in Harry’s clothes that he made her wear in the morning, a black galaxy sweater and wide loose pants a beanie on her head to protect her from a headache and when the receptionist waves her enthusiastically upon her arrival Y/N’s smiling but never opening her mouth knowing the bitch would be back.

“Dr. Styles went for a staff on-call. He'll be here any moment, you could go inside.” Y/N’s nodding and padding inside his room. The pain has lessened a bit and that gives her teensy energy to wander around his room admiring his lil achievements, the medal he won last year and right beside it the pen holder she gave him it that has a “HORRAY TAKE BABY STEPS BABY STEPS HONEY!!” written obnoxiously on it as if she’s screaming it to his face and she giggles at her own silly gift.

She gasps and ends up knocking her hip into his desk as Harry steps in and laughs loudly at her, tutting with a shake of his head, “Jumpy little thing you’re.” Out of habit his hands are falling at her hips and bringing her closer.

“How’re y'muffy?” He asks and she’s bobbing her head up and down dramatically but silently making him chuckle.

“’Kay get yourself comfy on the seat ‘m gonna call my assistant t’give you anesthetic.” He suppresses a smile when she worms her bum up the slippery seat and goes on pushing different buttons moving it up and down.

“How adventurous.” He snickers switching the examination lamp and she rolls her eyes. His assistant’s eyeing them with happy eyes from under her glasses and Harry’s putting his latex gloves aside as she fills the injection and Y/N's muscles tenses up in anticipation, as she tries to blink the fear away and musters up a weak smile.

Knowing she has a fear of needles. Harry rolls the stool he’s sitting on closer to her and interlaces their fingers together, he coos sweetly, “It’ll be just a pinch baby.” Though, Y/N thinks Harry’s a motherfucking liar because it apparently is not just a pinch but feels like a stick shoved up your ass.

When the assistant leaves them to fetch something, Harry’s stroking the fringes of her hair behind with benevolent and caring eyes and smiles down at her sincerely.

“I want y'to relax, moppet. Yeah? Could y'do tha' f'me?” This time when he’s poking or prodding she isn't slapping him away and he’s grateful because that means her gums are numb properly.

He’s caressing her arm to assure her that she has nothing to be afraid about when she startles hearing the buzz of instrument that’s about to rip her poor gum apart.

Surprisingly she was easy. Because, Harry was so gentle with her and when he’s ushering her to spit in the little sink and she’s laying back with cloudy eyes and a grin Harry just knows the anaesthesia is kicking in.

It means that she’s allowed to blabber every dumb thing to him (she doesn’t need anaesthesia for it by the way), without any filter and timidness she’s about to chatter his brain alive.

Her gaze slowly rakes down his torso as if she’s undressing him with her eyes and she’s grinning -- more blood pooling in her mouth, “You look very handsome in scrubs — you know that?” Her words wobblish but full of naughtiness and Harry arranges them himself barking out a delighted laugh when she tugs at hem of his clothes perking her lips.

“I could really kiss you right now....” Her voice clear with desire but a hint of neediness and fondness for him and he’s gazing her down with gleamy endearment and snorts bringing the water cup to her lips, “Sorry Bambi but don’t like kissing a bloody mouth.” She keeps her doe eyes on him and they turn sad while she gurgles the water in her puffed up cheeks and spits it again into sink, about to protest with him but he’s shushing her and laying her back onto the seat.

“Not even me?” She grumps up at him and he’s retorting shaking his head in rejection, he's just trying to rile her up because he himself thinks that a single peck wouldn’t hurt.

“You’ll get an answer to this after we're done with you,” He muses softly when her eyes flicker with glee.

She was all over him as if she’s a small baby who needs his guidance to walk her way out and Harry was waving his staff goodbye with nervous lamblike smile while he tries to balance her against his chest.

The whole ride back he refrained from cooing and making im-a-fool-who-is-shamlessly-in-love noises. How could he not? When she looks this cute and cuddly in his clothes, head lulling every once a while as she sleeps facing him, her hand on his thigh to keep her reminded of his presence.

Harry’s grabbing it and kissing her knuckles. A jolly smile fluttering on his features and he isn’t waking her up as the reach and takes her into his flat – flumps her down on his bed gently and gets rid of her shoes and sweater.

Even skips dinner. Gets out of his work clothes and takes a glance of his sleepy girl standing from the wardrobe and the light clicks off before his gangly body is sliding under the duvets beside her.

Warm, sweet and cosy.

His all day's exhaustion fuses into nothingness when his feet comes caressing her calves and his chest presses to her shoulders and his elbows shelters around her in a protecting loving manner.

His heart hiccups a happy beat when she turns to his side and snuggles into him murmuring in haze, “Love you.”

He trips into utter shock. Staring down at her with baffled eyes but then the memories from past night comes upon crashing down at him like a crystal wave of ocean and floats him to an island where he belongs, always fated to belong.

He confessed his love for her.

She confessed it back.

They both were stupid and forgot it.

Now when she’s telling him that she loves him Harry feels like he’s rather about to pass out or squeal into pillow.

“I love you too, baby.” He's just wrapping her closer to him and lingering a wet kiss to her forehead.

..

Y/N’s moral was grinded, she keeps on swiping her tongue over it even how much Harry scolds her about it (it feels like a small plateau that got separated away because of an earthquake, y/n has made her own imagination about her tooth) and Harry let her chose the colour of filling that will be the mould of her crown, it was just an unnecessary thing to make her feel cheerful about it.

“Is Harry busy? Who’s inside?” She’s asking the old receptionist tapping her nails against the marble counter in eagerness to be done with it and that she’s about to take him to this yummy Thai place.

“Oh. He’s with his girlfriend right now.” Placid sereneness dooms over them and Y/N falls frightfully quite.

The poor assistant doesn’t know what she has uttered.

She just told her what the rumours has told her.

Her jittery smile drops into a blue scowl, her legs weakens at the thought and she nearly trips when Holly appears from inside his room.

It bitters her mouth with taste of anger and outrage.

Holly passes her a tight empathetic smile as if she knew everything from start and Y/N’s striding past her in resentment, her mind smoked with betrayal and vehemence.

“Hi. Moppet.” He rolls his stool over smiling up at her and it tightens her chest so much she chokes onto a breath.

How could he? No. No.

How dare he!?

But, there’s no need to cry over split milk now is it? She has to accept it that they could never be something more than just bestfriends.

“Hi.” She mumbles blocking her tears in the back of her eyes somewhere and Harry frowns, asking politely as she sits, “Feelin' alright?” She just nods and it takes Harry off-guard.

Where is his bubbly Muffy?

“Are you hurtin' somewhere?” He asks again pushing her upper lip to get a better look of her tooth. When she denies he lets it slide.

Though, when the assistant injects her and she’s groping Harry’s thigh because in grief everything hurts more than usual and her heart is dripping with sorrow and loneliness and grief she’s on verge of breaking into pieces right on this seat.

Harry’s brows clinches together in worry but she’s inhaling a puff of breath and giving him an etiolated smile to finish this as soon as possible and leave before she humiliates herself infront of him.

Her crown didn’t fit and he had to do a little more grinding. Meanwhile, Holly’s entering the room and Y/N shuts her eyes pretending that she isn’t there.

It hurts. Not in her tooth. Everywhere. Like a force is ripping her apart through a saw and it hurls her into deep agony and her heart almost stops functioning.

Harry was too focused and worried about her eerie behaviour that he ignored the frail hits on his thigh and Holly’s taking his name loudly making him stop.

Y/N’s jolting up and gagging into the sink beside her. Her knuckles turning white from gripping it ruthlessly.

She stares the clots of blood and mucus washing away with blurry eyes.

“Baby?” Harry quickly rubs her back anxiously and scrutinise with raucous beating heart as her hands shivers cupping the water and taking it in her mouth.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Are y'okay? Pet?” His voice drips with panic and dread that the worst happened to her because of him --– if the case's true he's never gonna touch her again.

“Y/N!?” He’s growling loudly when she doesn’t reply him and keeps on crying. His eyes turning back concerned and soft when she hiccups a weep, “It hurts Harry ....” Holly rolls her eyes, leans against the desk and puts the file she brought to Harry beside her.

“You’re not a child anymore, Y/N. Ofcourse it’s gonna hurt.” She snickers and this makes Y/N cry more – Harry’s holding her hands in his and stroking his thumb at her knuckles.

“Dunno --...– maybe –- ma —,” Harry’s emerald eyes are boring into her murky one's and it pierces her soul away from her inside.

Their heads perk up when Holly asks her rudely, “Are you doubting Harry?”

Y/N shakes her tiny defeated head vigorously, “No! Why —.. why would I?” More tears pooling in her waterline and dropping at the back of Harry’s hand. He rushes to wipe them away and shush her but Holly’s acidic laugh is echoing.

How could she even think that?

Y/N could never doubt him.

Why she has to be so mean to her everytime?

“I mean you —,” Holly opens her mouth to speak but Harry’s cutting her off sharply, “Dr. Jenner enough. I’ll appreciate it if you wait f'me outside.” His head snaps back to Y/N who’s wiggling out of his hold and gasping out -- her pupils blown out and woozy.

“I just need a breather.” Saying this she’s out before Holly leaving Harry baffled and agitated to ponder over how she was pain and he failed to realise sooner.

..

The zephyr is tranquil. Frolicking with her heart and the grass is dewy under her as she runs towards an empty bench outside where there’s barely any light and she wishes Harry never comes to look for her.

She’s such a mess.

Her chest suffocates with a sob. She’s trying to lull her breath back to normal just like he tells her to.

When she flutters her eyelids into vision a hand with a cross on it’s thumb is pressed onto the bench beside her and there’s an afflicted pause in the atmosphere before she slowly faces him and places her hand atop his hand.

Her breath shudders through a smile, the tension in between them thickening as Harry feels her so close but so distant from him.

Emotionally and mentally and even their souls feels trapped within their own bodies.

It upsets him, to see his Bambi like that,

“’M so sorry, Harry. My intention wasn’t to embarrass you.” She isn’t serious? Sometimes he wants to bang his head at nearby wall at her silliness.

“You didn’t.” He assures her gently.

“But I did. Infront of the person you love.” It pains to say it. In the end she could suffer from anything for his happiness even if it’s handing him to the wrong person if he loves them.

Harry’s eyes turn moist at that. An unbelievable sour laugh eliciting from his lungs as he shoves his palms into his sockets, rubs them harshly and grasps her wrists pulling her closer to him with one furious tug.

“Yeah because that’s you, dumbass!!” Y/N’s body turns into a stone at his stern confession and she’s staring him with a throb in her heart and sad kitten eyes.

His brows pricks together ferociously and his lips twitches up as he speaks chopped on tears, “Every Daphne I pick up from the side-grass while comin’ back home t’you, these stupid stars in sky ‘n these ...” His shoes scrapes against the grass as he tries to show her, “....these stupid stupid shoelaces I tie around me ankles,” He’s raising his wrist to show her the milk bottle tattoo he got for he’s in love with her and their cats, once they were drunk, “... this fuckin' tattoo I got —- ‘s always been you.” He let’s the tears shine on his cheeks and soak them rosy.

“Always you, Bambi.” His accent gluteus and hoarse, “You’re always gonna be my sweet Bambi. Who I adore and love so much.”

“How?” She whispers in bewilderment and when Harry’s warming his forehead against her's tickling her lips as he murmurs, “Because you thought we'd be a wonderful us.”

A sob is wrecking out of her and she’s wrapping her arms around the nape of his neck pulling him down into a bone crushing hug, as the night they first confessed and had their first kiss makes a home in her mind.

She’s glad they didn’t forget their first.

“I love you.” Harry mumbles through a squished up cheek and saturates their chests closer with his hand planted firmly over her spine.

“I love you too. So much of it.” They’re crying elated tears knowing they’ve eachother to wipe them away and he’s sponging a tender kiss to her mouth and the corner of her lip avoiding where it’s swollen and her cheek is bloated.

The metallic taste of her blood lingers on his own lips.

“I could even kiss your bloody mouth, see?” He giggles feathering back his lips to her lips and gives her a chastise peck.

“Let’s put your crown, my highness.” Harry scoops up giggles from within her and tries to cherish this moment for as long as possible.

He’s never gonna forget his first, done twice.

..

Not a days go by where they don’t make love to eachother. A string of knot that connects their souls as Harry keeps his cock warm inside her while sleeping and it fattens inside her when they’re about to wake up and Harry’s rolling his hips into her lazily and gradually getting out breathy hums and whispers of whines from her —- her ankles locks behind his back and he’s always hitting and caressing the spots inside her which she was never able to reach herself with her short fingers.

Their bath times are intimate. Not full of adrenaline and thrill that one would end up having a foot cast from tripping from their playfulness, like they used to everytime. It’s delicate touches. Soft back rubs. Foamy head massages and cuddly bubbles. Smooching wet kisses. Heated makeout sessions and then drying eachother off, brushing teeth together and going to bed wearing eachother’s mismatched clothes.

Their mornings are spent lounging in bed and sharing a little love, sweet irresistible kisses, mouth sweet with eachother's tongues and hands comforting eachother, having a satisfying brekkie together in bed and sometimes the other is too tired to go (it’s usually Harry) and they always remind them they’re gonna come back home to eachother.

Harry made, Y/N explore herself. Introduced her to the tingles of what it feels to be rough and have a good shag that sends her into her sub-space where she doesn’t stop thrashing and spasming under him and He’s always there to bring her back to him and to take care of her.

They sometime do it in his office room too. Whenever she’s visiting him and he looks to alluring that Y/N could swallow him whole and his thighs man-spread deliciously as he sits on the stool in his damn scrubs, “You c’mere.” He pats his thigh dirtily in a command for her to straddle him and ride his cock and she’s always obeying like a good bunny moaning out feeling him in her tummy.

They’ve had countless of sex in Harry’s living room which they turned into a working studio for Y/N and whenever she's painting sometimes naked to tease him, how could Harry resist when she looks ethereal with her peachy bosom and her adorable tummy rolls and her innocent eyes and her cushiony thighs —- so he just pushes her thighs that he’s oh so in love with to her chest and pins her to floor and fucks her till she isn’t satiated enough.

Shower sex and bit of striptease when Harry’s knackered out. The hot water that prattles on their toes and their sweaty skins that slaps against eachother’s makes it much filthier and nastier.

They’ve bunch of romantic sex too. Oh boy! Just loads of romance where he’s too soft and mushy and dotting with her.

Sometimes, two people have deep connection that makes seem romance trivial and it isn’t about lust everytime. It’s about their souls. About the deepest part of who they’re as a person. Who they could be for eachother when the time strikes.

Just like right now. As, the stars twinkle outside and the dark snowy wind hits the windows; checked by the occasional gust that rattles the rooftop and the wood would creak to tell it’s presence. Fragrance of scented candles that of peonies, sparkling champagne and crème almonds surrounds them.

Harry brought Y/N on a holiday at a mountain and had a warm cosy wooden cottage booked for themselves.

They’ve spent it enjoying themselves and forgetting about their life in city. Today, the layer of foamy crystal snow is more than usual and they decided to cuddle up into their own little comfy cubby.

He takes his time feeling her skin and she nuzzles her nose up in his throat and giggles when he purrs.

The fire churning infront of them is similar to the one quenching in his belly as he sneaks his hand under her slip dress and fondles her nipples in between his calloused fingers.

“I wanna make love t'you, Muffy.” He mumbles grazing his blunt teeth down her sweaty pulse and laps at it splaying his palm close to her bum when she arches up into him, “I’m all yours.” She guppies around a gasp and he’s chuckling sweetly cradling her face in his hold and brews his lips against her's in a passionate endearingly hot kiss that moists her breath and her each ravine pore fills with love for him.

Their chests burns with carnal desire as he lays them on the flumpy nest of bed they made from blankets and pillows, his mouth keeps on tasting her with ardent fever and he situates himself between her and grinds their pelvises sensing her nipples stitching under his fingers and she’s gnawing her teeth into his petalish lip when he fills his palms with her tits.

“So cute.” He quips when she gasps whining for him to smudge his cocoa-vaseline covered lips back on her's and her lips brushes against his clavicles, emitting a perfervid whimper as Harry strokes his palm to feel her arousal and juices, “Hmm. I could just give you a flyin' kiss and you’ll still end up squirting.” He's easing his middle finger inside her and gazes her with profound sweetness when she pushes her palm up against his large moth and punctuates soft kisses to his vein at the side of his neck that prominents from their intimacy.

“Fuck. You get t've me cock daily but still so snug, pet. G’na stretch y'nice ‘n good.” He grunts, trailing soppy kisses down the valley of her breasts. Slicking his mouth around her nipple and she whines hungrily unceasing her fingers in his curls and pulls at them bringing him down for more kisses, “You love my kisses baby? Hmm? My baby loves me kisses ...” He coos suckling onto her lower lip and latches back full to her mouth and perennials it into pastels of wetness.

Sips down her moans when he slithers three more fingers into her and fits them deep, cupping his palm against her pussy. Something weirdly soft about his bare ring-less fingers and he runs his hips into her, “Feels good?” He growls looking down where his fingers drives into her.

When she bobs her head hungrily. She squirms – goosebumps pebbling on her skin and the mellow glow of candles melting on her when he pecks her and pecks her again, kissing her tongue as he mumbles, “Bet. It’ll feel more good with my cock inside y’pussy. Tell me moppet, who's little cunt is this?” He asks wiggling his middle finger to nudge the walnut shaped spot inside her – tucked within her walls and his other hand’s pressing her thigh to floor as he saps his teeth into her neck and leaves love bites.

Marking her as his’s.

“Yours. Please, it’s all yours.” She sobs out ardently. Crumbling and lurking at the edge to hold this pleasing feeling for some moment in her belly.

“Right.” He affirms. Licking the maroon marks he littered on her puddy skin and he's grabbing her shivery hand that was about to cup around his cock and stroke it, “You’re mine.” He strings their fingers together and brings it to his lips to kiss the soft pads of her fingers.

“All mine to love on, to cherish, to be proud of –-- You’re my little Bambi.” His infatuated dotting words are making her strike herself into him, quivering and blabbering, eyes shut in bliss and love and he’s helping her ride the sensation out.

The moment he’s taking his fingers out he’s interlacing those sticky cum covered fingers with her other hand and stretching her arms and pinning their winded hands atop her head into floor.

They’re moaning into waxy humidity when Harry sheathes into her and her walls soaps around his girth as he sinks himself into her, his heavy balls pressed buried deep to her bum and he’s smushing his face into her breasts and almost snuggles into her knowing how much she loves to just be wrapped into him as he pounds his cock inside her.

He’s sweltering his hips. Feeling her gooey warmth and rolls himself harder and she’s crossing her arms around his shoulder – kissing his neck and caressing the curls that’ve grown out a tad under his earlobes.

“I love you,” He's nosing at her jaw to tip her mouth towards him and kisses it —- his hold on her delicate but she’s coveting crescents into his knuckles and a bow of string connects their mouths as she pecks him till she’s running out of breath, “I love you. I love you so so much.” Even though they’re taking their time but Y/N doesn’t think she could last a minute longer the way he’s thrusting languidly but deeply into her.

“Show me then, c’mon baby cum on m’cock. Soak it. G'na keep it inside you ‘n sleep like tha', mphmp makin' me so so good —- g'na cum?” He rasps out and she’s whimpering blubbering out without much mind as he stuffs her full and enough.

Her voice meek and high-pitch, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She’s dripping all over him and coating him with her cum. He doesn’t not stop and pumps it back inside her roughly.

“Fuck. Baby.” His howl wounded and broken as he feels his balls tighten and he leaks inside her, “S'okay honey cum inside me Harry .. love how you make me feel – how big your cock is.” She grates her teeth into the eternity of his throat and punctures her lips to suck around the fading hickey she gave him two nights prior.

His hips stutters, and he keeps himself up with his weak elbows spurting ribbons and ribbons of thick seed inside her.

She moans out when he wouldn’t stop cumming and she thrashes upward with a final twist of his push, his words sultry and drunk on libido, “Fuck. I came so much – you’ll ‘ave to squeeze tha’ all out fo’ me,” He’s smoothing their arms down to let them be on eachother and Y/N sees the gears working in his mind when he grins.

“In case you’ll want a refill.”

She rolls her eyes cheek smashed into his bicep and pinches his nipple, “Way to ruin the moment –- you libido driven slut." A noise peeps out of her when he whumps on her and looks up at her with an amused expression.

“Y'know tha' slut shaming is inappropriate?” She just shrugs smiling around a yawn.

“Is that an invitation to whore shame y'then?” He listens to her heartbeat. Tracing pattern of yellow flicker on her skin and kisses the curve of her breast.

“Will that end up me havin' yer fingers in my bum?” She creampies around him at his genuine yet naughty question and he snorts out loudly stirring his cock on purpose that’s still snug inside her, “Hmm then ‘m defo a whore.”

“Harry!” She pouts and he squishes that pout as if she’s some duckling -- an old habit he'd never get rid of.

..

“Mrs. Styles!” Holly’s head perks up at the call and she’s looking down at the five month old baby that has her bum situated on her momma’s hip and she squeals joyfully bunching her momma's shirt in her tiny chubby hands.

Holly just simpers quietly not greeting the duo and keeps on walking as Y/N enters Harry’s office room.

His face brightens up. Dimples popping awfully cute just how Y/N loves and his smile widens into a toothy one as he leaves everything and scurries towards his girls, “Oh my two Bambis!” He's greeting them with loud sloppy loving kisses all over their faces that makes them squint their eyes and giggle ticklish from the faint stubble that’s growing on his chin.

Their baby. Harry never thought he was able to love someone this purely and extremely. From a grumpy kid himself and someone who used to loose his shit at the formula chugging machines he used to call them —-- he never even imagined to own one.

But, after two years into marriage and moving into a house with the love of his life everything had a possibility for him and their one room that’d look so empty just made his stomach squeaky and yearn for a little one that he could protect and hold delicately close to his chest and lather them in his kisses and smell their baby scent and have cuddles with them,

Harry really wanted her to be a December baby -- if not particular then winters.

Because she just looks like the joy of Christmas and the sapience of homely evening.

Her frost bitten poppy nose. Her plushy warm cheeks that of running his fingers over an old sweater that holds infinite memories for him, the shimmer in her eyes that of snowflakes and those lips she got from her mother that of marshmallows melting on hot chocolate.

Harry really fucked his dream of her being a winter baby by fucking Y/N at the wrong time of the year.

She ended up coming out on the most heated month, june.

Wasn’t his fault too. Because they were trying for so long and he'd be all excited for the pregnancy tests but then they'd come out negative everytime weighing a ball of sadness in his chest and when they conceived her –-- he didn’t even remember the damn date.

The pregnancy for them wasn’t that hard. Minus the eventual tantrums that were thrown his way as daggers but he was skilled to dodge them and lure his wifey back to him with chocolate chip cookies.

The process of her birth was life taking for Y/N and Harry had short comings in his breath from the way his wife would all be jerking in pain.

She had to endure the labour pain for three days.

It’d always tear him into sobs as he'd fall into Rori's arms while everyone stayed inside with her for a moment.

It wasn’t easy to look at the love of his life, his bestfriend, his Bambi, his everything go through so much pain and he almost ended up regretting having a baby but when she’d be all snuggled up into his side after a long tiring and screaming day with her bump swollen beautifully with his bubba inside, it used to relax him a bit,

When she came out all sticky and covered in blood he realized at that moment that; she truly is his’s.

Those earthy gem eyes that didn’t cry first five minutes but rather kept on staring at him intrigued as to why the man that used to chatter her ears away in thick sleepy accent when she was in the cosy spot of her mummy’s belly is now just crying and crying.

They made her with so much love and care.

She was just so soft to touch. Just like their favourite flowers.

She was his Daphne.

He’s grabbing her from armpits and immediately putting a hand under her diaper clad bum when she huffed making grabby hands at him, “Hi Daphne bub! Missed daddy much?” He coos bouncing her a little and rumbles his lips against her cheek to create farty noises.

She squeals fisting his hair and yanks at it. That makes Y/N laugh out loudly, “Careful there, H. She’s getting quite handsy.” He just smiles convincing his baby to have some mercy on his curls.

When Y/N tells him about his routine and her nap timing Harry’s just sighing kissing her lips and patting her ass to move, “I can take care of me baby -- doin' it fo' five months, forgot?” He took a paternity leave to spend more time with Daphne and his Bambi.

To be sure that they were growing and healing well.

Y/N has to take the cats for their monthly checkup that’s why she has to leave Daphne with Harry and even though she’s not fond of her in hospitals Harry assured her that he’s heading home soon.

When Y/N leaves, Harry blows raspberries at her face and she pouts just like her mummy and he’s squishing that pout like his own little duckling.

“Da',” She grumbles and Harry kisses her cheek fondly and lovingly, “Yes Da, bubblin. Guess like we’ve got a date with Pooh and Roo at home.” He guffaws out loudly when Daphne's eyes visibly twinkles at the name of her plushies she likes to chew on and get them all soggy by the end of the day.

“You’re such a minx, baby!” Harry thinks he couldn’t be happier.

He’s complete.

His family is complete.

[noa-ciharu]

MEGUMI!

After 1238382 years I finally got idea for story thus answer. Also @abreakdownawayfromanapocalypse here's the Megumi part since I got two asks with same character.

First impression: I first saw Megumi on dash and I thought he's distant and reserved cool animeGuyTM but actually pleasant and likable instead of, idk edgy or cringy like some other shonen anime guys with similar outside appearance and standoffish traits. You all know who. Also instantly liked his hairstyle, love them spiky hairs. Also thought he's 100% done with everything 25/8 but in the end it turned out to be combination of his seemingly calm dry personality and learned behavior likely due to emotional neglect or some issue in childhood. I didn't know he was only 15 I thought he was around 17-18, perhaps cuz he seems collected and mature from outside.

Impression now: okay, he's far more complex than I originally thought and than it meets the eye. Even if JJK plot is obviously unrealistic in terms of happening irl, he is potrayed so humanly as he's allowed to exhibit opposing traits and stances while staying consistent. That's something all of us humans do, because none of us are exclusively kind/cruel, selfless/selfish, conscious/unconscious to things about and around us ect (If I start about this psychological thing I'll never stop so moving back to fiction). The kindness he shows to those around him isn't negated by sadisim and potential bloodlust while battling, and vice versa. He's also grounded, collected and rational most of the time (capri sun after all) but when things go down, they go down for real. Also that dualism going on around him and how b&w thinking (which is portrayed so subtly yet realistically since it's not so obvious at first glance, kudos to Gege) serves as ego protection mechanism for him as he believes he's doing what must be done as sourcer and he can't be judged. Sort of numbing and distancing, closing door to burning barn. Also gives me looming sense of doom, that he is somehow being a fool (in some way, blind to something important) and will be punished for his personality flaws.

Favourite moment: hmm, I really liked that flashback with Gojo where he tells Megumi he's (subconsciously) holding back and sabotaging himself. It was one of the moments that threw me off loop since I thought I might understand his character prior to that moment. Then newsflash - he's even more complex and more brain needs to be used for brainstorming! More coffee needed! Also that 'you'll die alone' combined with 'let fate toy with you, become a fool then die' - kinda gives the vibes that he's blind to some obvious 'life lesson' and that he'll make some fatal mistake due to not grasping onto it on time and die alone as 'fool' (or go through ego death as it'll be more appropriate for story). Following that line of thoughts, I love every scene where he goes feral because it seems like 'restrained' part of himself got unleashed. Absurdity enough, that always happen on the battlefield especially when timing is 'appropriate', I wonder if it's possible for himself to let subconscious impulses and emotions take rein and continue viewing himself in same way (not possible to be judged, neither good nor bad but also categorizing others in those boxes). Saw him fight with tonfas ones, they are, beside scythe, my favs weapons. Cuz Hibari was my fave in middle school

Idea for story: since you implanted (affectionately) idea with shadows into my mind, here's one with that. He sometimes gets unnerved by seeing shadows. Not in apprehensive or fearful way but in 'why do they capture so much of my attention when there's logical explanation for their existence' way. Like, he sits on a bench and cant help but notice the shadow it casts. Things like that happen continuously and far to frequent for his liking - and that's what throws him of loop. Because he's not sure why that happens. And that slightly bothers him. Gradually he stares forcing his stare away from them yet still their existence persist in his mind. One day Megumi did that in front of Gojo. Of course given that avoiding gesture was so obvious he took note of that instantly. Thus one day - " Do you look away from your own shadow as well Megumi?". Initially Megumi didn't completely understand what Gojo meant by that but then one day epiphany bolted down while he was on the field training in middle of afternoon, no shadows in miles except for his own. Ironic, to be disturbed by what he not knowns, what is indisputably a part of himself. Nonetheless, it'll be paradoxical to try to be aware of source behind disquietude in first place, as he had a hunch he won't be able to walk out of that realization as himself. From time to time it still haunts him however he's aware that it'll haunt him way more if he got acquainted with said 'shadow'.

Unpopular opinion: idk if fandom actually agrees with me or not but I rly disliked his middle school uniform. By that I mean color palette. Since there's a whole b&w, yin/yang, duality and clashes of opposing sides thing going on around him, I always thought he seemed most 'natural' in black and/or white. Which he actually wears 90% of time. But now that in typing this I'm double taking my stance as there might be some narrative value cuz it's only time he's not in monochrome clothing (someone correct me if I'm wrong or reading too much into it). Beside that, I'm fan of both green and blue eyes.

Favourite relationship: actually I don't ship him with anyone for real (only thing I ship in whole series are Yuuta and Rika, and even that can't be shipped 'regularly'). If I had to choose fanon ship it'll be with Itadori. However I'd rather see them platonically or with some sort of commandership thing. Because their relationship and that doomed suicide pact(not seeing worth to themselves outside job as sourcers? Idk why but reminds me of X's 'if killing people is so wrong then why do we lose sight of what's truly important') are intresting enough on their own and I can see shipping romanticizing or glossing over that psychologically intriguing aspects of humans nature for sake of romance. Which I'd rather avoid. If it's potrayed in angsty realistic way where not everything is sweet and nice, then I might be a fan of it. And Sukuna maybe (that tension? Sign me up, especially since we dont know Sukuna's reasons for being intrigued) but nothing serious. Also that mentorship with Gojo was intresting, especially when Gojo sees through Megumi and says some insightful things. I like whole thing with Tsumiki going on but not in 'they have fun relationship' way but more as presence in Megumi's mind. He holds her in high regards but she also has sort of 'haunting' effect on him: she's not in story explicitly but is definitely strong presence inside his psyche, not necessarily in positive or negative manner (because life isn't b/w), but in persistent manner rather.

Favourite headcanon: idk if this is canon or ot but I thing he loves animals and being in their presence. I mean, he's the only one in series with shikigamis and it's not only of one kind, but bird, dogs, rabbits ect. Alot of types. Also since he strikes as a type that not necessarily loves solitude itself, but certainly craves a peace of mind and time for himself - he'd like to spend few hours at end of day in presence of an animal (bigger dog precisely comes to mind, some that's both black and white, maybe a husky op loves them excuse my self indulgence). Cup of tea in one hand, other stroking through animal's fur as mind tries to stay cloudless and rumination-free for one night, for once successful - it'll be nice way to relax for day's end. Too many problems for someone so young.

[berkmansimagines]

The Archer

A/N: This fic was lowkey inspired by a scene from the Birds of Prey movie!

Summary: After Barry botches a hit for the Chechens, Noho Hank pays you a visit.

Pairing: Barry Berkman x hitman!wife reader

You just returned home from a quick errand. You couldn’t have been gone for more than fifteen minutes….

When you walk into your apartment, you find a well-dressed bald man standing in the middle of the living room. He’s looking at a framed photo of you and Barry on your wedding day. You’ve never met this man in person, but you’ve heard Barry talk about him enough to know who he is. It’s Noho Hank.

“What are you doing here?” you ask quietly, trying your best to play it cool.

“Oh you must be Y/N!” Noho Hank enthusiastically greets you.

From the corner of your eye, you see another man standing off to the side. He’s big enough to be an enforcer. Before you have time to think or react, the enforcer points a gun at you and pulls the trigger-

WOOSH

You feel a sudden sharp pain in your neck. 

“What the fuck….” 

Your body goes completely numb and you fall to the floor. You’re still conscious but can’t move a muscle. There’s a dart in your neck. The man must’ve shot you with some sort of tranquilizer.

“Oh c’mon, man! Was that really necessary?” the bald mobster sounds annoyed.

“You don’t know what she’s capable of,” the enforcer replies. 

“Now we can’t ask when Barry is coming home,” Noho Hank complains.

Barry is out at his acting class but he’ll be home soon. Even if you could talk, you’d never give up any information about your husband.

The enforcer tosses the gun to the side and walks towards you. You wish you could smack that smug look off his face. He enjoys having this much power over you.

“You’re creepy, man. You’re just so fucking creepy,” Hank shakes his head, “At least move her onto the couch or chair or something.” 

“Whatever,” the enforcer shrugs.

He forcefully picks you up and shoves you onto the couch. 

“Where’s the bathroom?” Noho Hank asks you, and then, “Oh right, duh! You can’t tell me. It’s okay, I’ll find it.”

Noho Hank leaves in search of the bathroom.

The enforcer plops down onto the couch and wraps his arm around you. You hate being so close to him without being able to move. He roughly taps your face.

“Do you feel that?” the enforcer taunts.

The man abruptly cups your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye. He then takes a knife out of his pocket and shows it off to you.  

“I just got this sharpened. You wanna know why? So I could carve up your pretty face,” the enforcer smirks.

The enforcer traces lines down your cheek with the knife. If he was using any more pressure, you’d be cut and bleeding. 

“I think I’ll start by cutting off your nose,” he tells you as he moves the knife across your face.

You’re extremely anxious. You know that if you weren’t subdued you could fight back. But you can’t. It’s killing you how helpless you are right now. You’ve always been the hunter and now you’re the prey...

CREAK

You weakly eye the front door as Barry arrives home from acting class. He’s not prepared for the scene he just walked into.

“Hey, Y/N! I’m-”

Barry immediately stops talking when he sees you on the couch with a stranger. You look limp and completely out of it. Your husband's entire body goes rigid. 

“What did you do to her?” Barry asks in a low, serious voice. 

“Just a mild tranquilizer. She’ll be fine,” the enforcer snickers. 

Barry picks up on the man’s accent right away. Then he notices a distinct tattoo on the man’s arm. It’s a symbol for the Chechen mob. Fuck. Your husband quickly puts the pieces together. This guy isn’t after you. He’s here for Barry.

Barry was supposed to do a hit for the Chechens last night. Unfortunately, the target was not where Noho Hank said he’d be and Barry wasn’t able to complete the job. Barry knew the Chechens would be pissed, he just didn’t expect them to show up so soon.

Your husband impulsively tries to move towards you. He only makes it a few steps until the enforcer puts the knife to your throat. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the enforcer warns.

Barry freezes in place.

“Hey man! You need to check out their porcelain counters. It’s the same pattern I want for the heroin table,” Noho Hank excitedly announces as he returns from the bathroom.

Barry’s eyes widen, “Hank?” 

As soon as he sees Barry, Noho Hank’s entire demeanor changes from polite to menacing. The look on his face unsettles Barry a bit. The Chechen mobster is furious. 

“You fucked our plan,” Hank says cooly.

You and Barry lock eyes. He can tell you’re scared. The enforcer still has the knife to your throat. Barry needs to de-escalate the situation before you get hurt. 

“Hank, relax man. Tell your guy to put the knife away. Let’s just talk,” Barry puts his hands up.

Hank nods to the enforcer. He puts the knife back into his pocket, but keeps his arm around you.

“What happened, Barry? Why didn’t you follow the plan?” Hank asks.

“The guy wasn’t home!” Barry tries.

Hank shrugs, shaking his head.

“Goran doesn’t think he can trust you.”

“He can trust me! I’m going to finish the hit. I just need time. Give me a couple of days and the job will be done,” Barry pleads his case.

Noho Hank is quiet for a beat. You could cut the tension with a knife. And then-

“You have twenty-four hours to finish this hit. If you do not then Goran will kill you, your wife and Fuches. And not in that order,” Hank threatens Barry.

Barry slowly nods his head. He understands.

During Barry and Hank’s conversation, you gradually start to regain feeling back in your hand. You lightly tap your fingers in an attempt to speed up the process. Once you have enough strength, you decide to take the dart out of your neck and stab the enforcer with it. He deserves a taste of his own medicine...

You sneakily move your hand, trying to reach for the dart in your neck when the enforcer suddenly grabs your wrist. He squeezes it so tightly, you’re afraid that he’ll break it.

“What do you think you’re doing, huh?” the enforcer angrily asks. 

Your face is still pretty numb and you can’t quite speak yet. You remain silent.

“Hey! Let go of her,” Barry yells.

Your husband charges towards the couch. The enforcer shoves you aside and rises to his feet, ready to confront Barry. 

Before Barry can get too close, Noho Hank steps in the middle of the two men. He says something in Chechen to the enforcer. The enforcer shakes his head and trudges toward the door. Barry doesn’t go after him.

“If he’s not dead in twenty-four hours, we’re coming back with some friends,” Noho Hank tells Barry.

Noho Hank follows his enforcer. Barry keeps his eyes on them. He doesn’t look away until they walk out the door.

As soon as they’re gone, your husband rushes towards you on the couch. You’re still regaining feeling back in your body. You move your mouth up and down a few times until it no longer feels numb.

“I’m so sorry. This is all my fault,” Barry frantically apologizes, pulling you into his arms.

“It’s okay,” you breathe, then tease, “Did you see the dart? That’s some Looney Tunes type of nonsense.”

“I’m going to finish this job. I promise they won’t bother you again,” Barry says adamantly.

“We’ll do it together,” you reply.

“Y/N-” 

“Let me help you. I… I’m ready for combat,” you nod.

Your husband doesn’t say anything. He just tightens his embrace and holds onto you.

[nctsworld]

no filters (just you)

✩ johnny x reader | pining | fluff | photographer au | 1.7k 

→ summary: in which you finally steal a peek at your best friend’s camera gallery and are surprised to find countless photos of you throughout it all.   → warnings: some drinking, few swear words, kissing

→ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

The bustling of the joyous occasion surrounds you. String lights glow under the summer night sky. They encompass the white linen tables topped with delicate flowers and ornaments, alongside all the dressed up people dancing, sitting, laughing, and overall having a great time. 

You’re one of the people sitting at a table, indulging yourself with a glass of champagne in one hand. However, you aren’t alone. Johnny, your best friend, is the photographer for the wedding and was allowed to bring a guest. Not much persuasion was needed when free food and drinks were involved. 

Taking a sip of your drink, you watch your towering friend finish taking a picture of people on the dance floor before he heads straight towards you. His camera sways lightly with his cool walk and when he finally reaches you, he feigns an exhausted sigh and sinks into the chair next to you.

“Man, photography just takes so much out of me,” he shakes his head while loosening his tie. 

“Does it really, though?” you cock an eyebrow, then flash him your signature smile. He reflects your expression, grabs your glass, and takes a sip. Actually, more than a sip, since he finishes all the bubbly without hesitation.

“I thought you don’t drink on the job.” 

Setting the thin vessel down, he shakes his head defensively, “I never said that. I said I don’t get drunk on the job. There’s a difference.” 

You snatch your empty glass back and begin to refill it as Johnny carefully removes the camera strap from his body prior to gently placing the camera on the table. He leaves a hand on it, giving him a sense of security over his prized possession (and because it’s the reason why he’s getting paid tonight). 

Johnny looks back and forth between the floor and the table when he says, “Sorry I couldn’t really be with you tonight.”

In the midst of a sip, you immediately refute his apology. “No, don’t apologize, Johnny. You’re working, and you know I can’t complain.” You gesture towards all the food and drinks. 

“But...” you play with the stem of the glass. “Can I at least see some of the pictures?” 

“No, you cannot,” he quickly answers, shutting you down like he usually does. You pout. 

“You know I couldn’t give two shits if you take pictures of naked girls in your spare time, right?” Sarcasm oozes from your accusation, but anyone walking by and hearing it wouldn’t know otherwise. 

“Oh, my God,” he runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head from your lack of shame. You notice his cheeks start to colour, but you’re unsure if that’s from the drink or embarrassment. 

“Firstly, all the pictures of the naked girls I take are on my other camera,” he begins to count on his fingers, responding against your banter. “And secondly, I’m working on a secret photography project. Once I’m done, then you can see it.” 

“You promise?” you hold your pinky out. 

He chuckles. “I promise.” 

His pinky finger curls around yours, then both of you angle your hand a bit upward to have your thumbs touch. After the promise is sealed, the two of you have some fun on the dance floor until midnight rolls around and guests trickle more and more away. Johnny deals with the last bit of his job before he begins to drive you home. 

You relax into the passenger seat, looking at all the things that pass by in the middle of the night. Johnny’s music softly plays in the background and almost lulls you to sleep until he mentions he has to stop for gas. 

“I’m gonna pick up some snacks. Do you want any?”

A few come to mind, so you list them for him to pick up on your behalf. He smiles, jokingly tells you not to go anywhere, and heads into the gas station’s convenience store as he’s done filling his tank. While you watch him make his way towards the store, a lightbulb goes off in your head. Without thinking, your hand reaches in the back seat of his car and grasps onto his camera; you couldn’t help but jump at the chance to rummage through his camera gallery. 

The camera’s screen glares at you in the darkness of the car. It’s a bit painful, but you persist and smile back at all the people enjoying themselves in the wedding photos. 

Whenever you see Johnny’s shots, they never fail to amaze you. He has the ability to capture a moment in its purest essence. If a picture is worth a thousand words, Johnny’s pictures were worth double.

Suddenly, you notice a photo of yourself sitting at the table, glancing off to one side. You think to yourself that Johnny caught you in such a picture-perfect moment, he probably couldn’t help himself. 

You scroll further through the wedding photos, but realization gradually dawns on you when you notice that there are more photos of you than there should be at an event that wasn’t even your own. 

Hastily, you go to the master gallery page to view several photos at once. The camera almost drops from your hands as your fingers fumble with the back button to view photos that date back from weeks and months ago at mutual friends’ gatherings. 

Earlier in the summer for Taeyong’s birthday, you see glimpses of you in various shots. Laughing, smiling, wincing. You didn’t even know you had such facial expressions. 

There’s shots of your back peering at a sunset, looking off the balcony of Taeil’s new apartment from his housewarming.

Before then, there’s shots of you at a dinner party celebrating Mark’s promotion at work. 

Johnny’s taken so many photos of you without you ever knowing. How did you not realize? 

You hold the camera’s screen close to your body for a second, wondering if you’re simply Johnny’s artistic muse for a mere project or if there is something actually more to all this. 

Did Johnny really see you as more than friends? 

Did he view you the way you silently yearn for him, or did he only like you through a camera lens?

Turning your head, you see Johnny strolling out of the store with snacks in his arms. Faster than the speed of light, you ensure the camera roll is back to the last wedding photo taken and almost throw it against the back seat. You seethe, knowing Johnny would kill you if he knew you did that, but you maintain composure. You pull your phone out, playing cool just in time as he opens the door. 

During the rest of the ride, you try your hardest to pretend nothing’s wrong. Even when silent, Johnny’s known you long enough to know something’s off. He doesn’t say anything until he pulls up in front of your place. When he does, the suited figure turns off the engine, but leaves the music playing still. 

“Hey,” he whispers your name in the night air. It’s tender, but worrisome. Not a common thing you hear from him. “You okay?” 

You lie, barely nodding, and glance down with a slight grip on the snacks he bought you. The crinkle of the bags are a loud intrusion to the background music and silent air. 

“I…” You’re searching for what to say, deciding if you should continue to lie or not. 

“I may have went through your camera.” The truth croaks out of you, and you’re shaking your head because on top of your confusion, you’re feeling waves of guilt from intruding your best friend’s privacy. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.” 

From your peripheral vision, you catch Johnny’s hand grip a little tighter on the steering wheel, then his grip relaxes and he rubs his thumb delicately against it. 

“Can I just say,” he speaks after a few passing moments that feel like eternity, into the tension still present in the air. “I’m not a stalker or creeper, I swear.” 

A beat passes. 

You cut the thick tension with a small laugh. He follows and begins to laugh along with you.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” you sarcastically add and look over at him. 

“Hey, you know I need to cover my grounds. I don’t need my best friend suing my ass.” 

Hearing the term “best friend” lingers and sits with both of you strangely in the air.

“Do you…” you begin to ask the question that may hurt the most, so you elect to ask a less loaded question. “Are you actually doing a photography project using my pictures?” 

He nods with the dim street light shining on him. He’s tired, you can tell, and you feel more guilt for keeping him up any longer than you should. Despite his wariness, Johnny still looks gorgeous, especially with the perfect lighting. Sometimes, he jokes that life is a runway for him, but in this moment, you begin to understand and agree with him. 

“Yeah, it’s a project on something that I consider beautiful,” Johnny glances over to you as the last word rolls off his tongue, and you’re smiling softly at his compliment. “I’m supposed to present it later this week. I was going to figure out a way to break it to you afterwards.” 

Hearing Johnny call you beautiful has your heart fluttering. You just want to jump out of the car, squeal so much that the neighbours would wake up, then you would run into your home and call it a night.

Instead, your body takes control and courage courses through your veins when you reach for the end of his tie. You daintily roll the tip of it between your fingers and let the haunting question free, ready for whatever follows.   

“Do you like me? As more than a friend?” 

You’re suddenly conscious of how hard you’re breathing and your heart flutters become hard knocks against your chest. Johnny’s face is now a few inches away from yours. At this point, you’re unsure if you’re playing with his tie out of nervousness or desiring for something more, or perhaps both. Your eyes attempt to lock with his and you note how he’s breathing just as hard as you are. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Johnny this nervous before. 

“Yeah,” he exhales with a nod. You smell a small hint of the champagne scent against your face from his breath, along with the scent of his faded cologne. Johnny finally manages to match your gaze. “Do you?” 

Without a word, you answer his question by practically yanking his tie closer to you, meeting his lips with yours. 

The night ends with you two kissing breathlessly in the backseat until hues of orange and yellow begin to stain the horizon. 

[fannishcodex]

So I love @revasnaslan 's Where One Fell Verse, a SPOP AU. :D (Will add a link to the fic series in a comment or reblog below after remembering that tumblr sometimes has issues with embedded links, I think.)

Like, I really love it a lot, it borders on self-conscious "am I being too much, will this for some reason bother the fic writer??" And really, I’ve realized, no way, it won’t, especially since I write fic too and know I would be delighted if my fic got that reaction; but I think this may be more part of my self-consciousness and shyness. In any case, my affection for these fics is on hyperfixation level. I'm in the WOF Verse fandom. It's a thing I've been thinking about in some way since I found it late last year via @cirusthecitrus, it's one of the things that cheers me up these days. I struggle to articulate my pleasure with this fic, but I want to try to do it more.

This fic is a wonderfully character-driven story.

Fic spoilers under the cut, so recommend reading Where One Fell (fic 1) and Everything But A Door (fic 2) before this--and also, just, this fic has my deepest rec and everyone should check it out:

But, another different note first, even more self-conscious on my part: me writing about this fic more feels long overdue, but I really do struggle to sometimes articulate even my positive feelings about a thing because I want to get it across well--but I'm trying to more just spill it out now instead of trying to refine it more; and just also other things have been...a lot, there's been a lot (good and less good) that's pulled my attention in other directions too. So, long overdue, I wish I could've done more earlier, but I still just want to...gush about the fic; but I get self-conscious and worry about, like, "I don't want to end up pestering/pressuring and asking for immediate gratification for a new chapter/I don't want to guilt-trip for an update especially since I feel like I understand because I write fic too and I write slow and it's hard"...but I still want to gush about WOF verse, especially since it's like any other story I enjoy. I like gushing about the stories I enjoy.

So, again, this fic is wonderfully character-driven, which I love.

I'll bring up some canon for obvious reasons, but mostly in terms of contrast. One of the ways WOF Verse felt refreshing and drew me in was that after SPOP canon--well, in some ways SPOP canon feels like a wasted ensemble show; like many other things SPOP doesn't pull off, it doesn't pull off an ensemble show (especially when it ends up sidelining a bunch of characters that should've been prioritized more instead of a very mishandled character), and it kinda feels like it ends up having too many characters/like it starts feeling like too many characters if some are sort of just there and not really used (and I have my thoughts on who should've been prioritized, but that's another post; though granted I think my interest in this fic really indicates some of the characters I would've prioritized more).

So, I enjoyed how WOF Verse focuses on a smaller cast, giving them more attention and exploring them more. The general summary of the fic immediately drew me in, because I'm a sucker for family themes and dysfunctional families and familial love getting messy and complicated in fiction, and I hadn't realized I needed clone Hordak and his genetic template/progenitor Horde Prime shifted to them being literally brothers, plus the added twist of having Horde Prime actually care for his brother, but Prime's become thoroughly twisted in how he shows that affection and protectiveness--didn't know I needed that until I found this fic. And oh do I enjoy how this fic opened up the original '80s She-Ra/MOTU up to me more, because I just thought "wow, Hec-Tor Kur is a good made-up alt name/'real-ish' name with a last name for Hordak in this AU, and Anillis Kur just sounds cool and it just feels like it fits as an alt name/real name for Horde Prime when he's not always using that title," and I thought making them literally blood brothers was just a neat twist on them being clone and genetic template/progenitor. But nope, apparently Hec-Tor Kur and Anillis Kur are their real alt names from the original '80s canon which also heavily implies they're brothers, and that's really cool. (And I think it would've been really interesting if spop/the latest reboot had actually just explored that more, explored them more as brothers and siblings.)

Again, WOF is very character-driven, and I love that. And I enjoy how this feels like it also fits the story and world of the fic, which involves Anillis Kur/Horde Prime going into Extremely Overprotective Brother Mode and confining his sickly younger brother Hec-Tor (Hordak) to the Velvet Glove because he's that paranoid about anything happening to his brother due to a lot of family trauma that happened before Hec-Tor was even born/when he was just a baby (and baby Hec-Tor himself almost succumbing to illness and dying did not help with Anillis's issues), not to mention that controlling; so much of the fic so far is in a closed world, it adds to the hyper focus on the characters in that closed world. I appreciate how at times the fic really does have this claustrophobic feeling. I like how it sometimes makes me think of like a one-setting/limited setting play on a multi-chapter scale.

And of course, I like the specific characters getting this sort of hyper focus, and WOF makes me enjoy them even more. I love Hordak, his character, his voice, his design, etc. Horde Prime also has such a cool design and again that same cool voice, I adore Keston John's voice acting and his range in it. Canon S5 doesn't give him enough internal depth or character though, and ultimately makes him too much of just an obstacle and symbol/too much of a plot device in the show and a wasted opportunity for a more interesting character. That becomes even more apparent in contrast to WOF Verse, because Anillis Kur/Horde Prime is so much more interesting!!! Like Anillis/WOF!Prime is so much more interesting, it makes me realize how canon Prime is lacking in character/interest.

Ohman, this Prime. Prime has a great design and a great voice, and WOF has an interesting personality to match those elements in quality. There's so much fascinating contrast with him in WOF, and it makes him feel like a more unsettling villain. We've seen him care, and so it feels more frightening when he turns more aggressive and ruthless and cold. WOF's opening scene really effectively sets that contrast with him; it starts with him exhausted but having a really sweet moment with a very young Hec-Tor, and then not long after that when Hec-Tor's asleep in his arms it's a very unsettling mood whiplash with how Anillis coldly treats the clone attendant; it's even very effectively distilled and crystalized even further with the image of Anillis holding a sleeping Hec-Tor in his arms while glaring daggers at the clone attendant, that contrast of love and threat. Like, definitely a character that can do Both and I love that. And contrast adds layers to Anillis, it renders him in even more emotional dimensions, he can be multiple things at once.

And I rather love that he's far less...touchy, with everyone; it more finally struck me that he's rarely negatively touched anyone until a pivotal scene, and it being a rarity made the scene pack more of a punch, and then I looked back and realized he just doesn't do that often, there's another earlier scene that also feels shocking because it's another rare use of explicit touch, his touch is more targeted--he doesn't need to constantly do it to feel threatening at all, and is in fact much more threatening and unsettling without it. (I literally had to pause some instances because I was nervous about what Anillis would do next.) It's so fascinating to watch Anillis steadily grow worse and to watch Hec-Tor gradually have the dawning realization of what Anillis is really doing and the truth of his situation. It's interesting to see Hec-Tor gradually realizing that what he's lived with his whole life and what has felt normal isn't a good thing, it's not acceptable.

And I really do like that familial love is such a motivating factor for Anillis, and that it's something that feeds into a lot of his ruthlessness and villainy; and it feels like something I still don't see enough in fiction. And it just feels more believable, more consistent. Anillis acts horribly, is abusive, but it still feels like what he does is out of love for his brother and he really is blind to what he's actually doing to his brother, that it's the opposite of what he wants, it's not protecting him like he believes. I like that level of character believability/consistency, and part of that also involves how it's overall framed, and it's still framed as pretty terrifying; Anillis cares about his brother, but his methods are twisted.

And my gut feeling does...well, feel connections between canon and this AU--and that may be obvious as source material and fic based on it, but I mean--it's as if canon were the very rough first sketch/draft, and WOF is the fully realized version of the character, plus the change of shifting his brotherly status into a brother that actually does care but goes about it in a horribly twisted way. WOF takes parts and pieces and little details from canon and fleshes them out into something more fully dimensional and more interesting. Like the trace of canon Prime's collection with plants/other things and even arguably the imagery at the end with his ship the Velvet Glove becoming a tree feel connected to a more fleshed out version in WOF where Anillis keeps a garden. And there's so much meaning that can be pulled from his garden--it's another reflection of his controlling behavior with the way he controls/manages the garden; on the flip side, it feels like it further reflects the contrast/dichotomy in his character, as gardens can still have positive connotations too--it can reflect the potential Anillis had (may still have?) for genuine good/for genuinely nurturing care. And it also does more explicitly point to Anillis's affection for family since his late father had kept a garden too and Anillis's own garden on the Velvet Glove still has his father's plants. There's so much done with Anillis's garden.

And with his backstory and the contrast in his character, just his...everything, I also want to know more about Anillis, I'm curious for even more of his backstory, even going more into "why are you like this?" Like this is a genuinely fascinating, charismatic, threatening, multi-faceted antagonist right here.  

And I can go on about Anillis, but I love Hec-Tor/Hordak in this too. I love Hordak, and I enjoy how this still feels so much like Hordak, but with a different life; I feel like there are commonalities that remain from canon within him combined with differences based on the AU he's in and the different experiences he's lived with. Like, there's such an interesting detail with Hec-Tor's growing anger issues that remind me of Hordak--it's there, but different because of their different lives, Hec-Tor's developing because of his isolation but still quieter, simmering, because his brother only has his best interests at heart, he shouldn't act like this... And then it’s so nice to see Hec-Tor be even more talkative about SCIENCE because he does have more space to be a bit more open about his passions in this AU/different life situation. And it's all like another AU I didn't realize I wanted until I saw it--I really dig seeing Hordak/Hec-Tor as a baby, as a little kid, getting to have a childhood and get to have more typical developmental stages and to have more familial experiences, albeit twisted ones. And I love how the story has shifted to Hec-Tor more, love his POV and following him on his journey.

And the clones! The clones are great in WOF and give me feels too. I love how more of them are focused on as individuals, and that we get to see more of their characters and glimpse their differing views. And when Etherian characters join in, they're as well written and interesting too (the Entrapdak is so good). I just like WOF's cast, and the line-up plucked from canon and how they adjust to the AU; this ensemble just feels better, and it's utilized and treated better than canon.

And the worldbuilding with Anillis & Hec-Tor’s race and the clones and their world is so good and seamlessly interwoven with story and character, enhancing the whole thing even more and making things even more interesting.

I just...really love these characters and this story. They have a lot of heart and intrigue.

(Disclaimer: I definitely ended up having trouble figuring out tags for this. Especially since I think only the first five tags actually show up at first? And I think last I checked tumblr freaks out over dashes within a tag so while “hec-tor kur” probably fits better, I don’t think tumblr can handle that for some reason so just going with “hordak,” which also really still just fits.)

[argentdandelion]

How to Speedrun the Infinity Train

How to Speedrun the Infinity Train: Part 1

1. Can you exit the Infinity Train without ever fixing your problems?/Summary of the “Expected Course”.

“Every passenger is important. Their well-being and progress is what the train is all about. All aboard the growth train! Toot-toot!” (One-One’s note to Amelia)

The Infinity Train’s purpose seems to be quantifying the severity or complexity of Passengers’ problems via numbers on their hands and sending them to a train car so they can progress through cars’ scenarios, which will eventually lead to emotional growth. Commonalities in Passengers’ character arcs suggest one gets one’s number to zero and therefore leaves by a combination of right thought and right action, to the end of giving up, letting go, moving on, or otherwise no longer caring about the particular issue that got them aboard the Train. It seems people are intended to deal with their problems by emotional growth through self-understanding or introspection, not, say, gaining emotional skills in unrelated fields and suddenly no longer caring about an issue for reasons one can’t explain.

In a way, the Infinity Train is like a video game in which the end goal is going home after achieving sufficient emotional growth to deal with one’s “boarding problem”. But is it possible to “speedrun” this game, without ever taking the expected course of going through cars, introspection on one’s problems, and conscious personal improvement?

Absolutely. And the methods to do so can get really weird.

2. Can You Ignore the Infinity Train’s Resources?

“The Train is filled with all sorts of things that can help you learn about yourself and grow as a person!” One-One, in an informational video

Judging by what One-One says and the commonalities of different passenger arcs, it seems it’s expected Passengers will travel through cars, have a denizen companion, interact substantially with Denizens, and know that their numbers exist and their function. However, it is possible to ignore or bypass these expectations and still get one’s number down to zero. Indeed, it's likely: if One-One's description of how people are assigned numbers ("numerical algorithmic judgment") also applies to how they lower. After all, algorithms can be tricked.

Skipped: Going Through Cars

It seems Simon stayed with The Cat for months in just one car and his number got very low. It may be that just being in one car for the entire time can lower one’s number to zero if just one car can provide sufficient opportunities and incentive to deal with one’s problems. For example, if Simon’s initial problem was something simple, like some low-level manifestation of “fear of abandonment”, it could be treated by having a dependable parental figure who always came back. In such a case, it seems plausible that living in Le Chat Chalet and waiting for The Cat to come back after her lengthy trips outside would gradually lower his number. (Since little of Simon’s backstory is shown, it’s unclear whether he boarded with a small number, his number gradually went down just by being in one car, or his number went down rapidly after a short time period of traveling through cars)

Skipped: A Denizen Companion, or Any Denizen Interaction

"Always remember - there are lots of denizens along the way to help you on your journey! Don't be afraid to reach out!" One-One, in an informational video

Judging by One-One, the Flec Mace, and observing the episodes, Denizens and especially “companions” (friendly denizens who travel with Passengers), seem to exist to help passengers with their emotional growth in some way. They can help by being friendly, presenting challenges, or even being outright antagonistic or threatening: Marcel of The Map Car could have been designed to give people the courage to stand up to harmful people or dangerous situations, for example.

However, in Tulip’s case, one of her companions was One-One, who’s surely not a denizen as the Train’s Conductor, and some of her number-dropping can be attributed to interactions with him (e.g., in “The Unfinished Car”). It’s also probable Grace’s number dropped prior to “Le Chat Chalet” because of the time she spent being friendly with Hazel, a denizen, despite not knowing Hazel was a denizen at the time.

Most convincingly, interactions between passengers can lower numbers. Amelia’s number drops when she thanks Grace for her help, Grace’s number drops when she confronts Simon in “The New Apex” and when talking with the Apex kids, and the Apex kids’ numbers change (likely dropping) when Grace tells them they can’t be Apex anymore in the aforementioned episode. Given how quickly a number can increase within seconds (e.g., Tulip walking away from Ghom-Atticus), Grace’s rate of number increase between meeting Simon and the memory flashback in her memory tape is actually very low, and it only progresses past her palm and later to her elbow some time after founding the Apex.

Keep in mind numbers can go down just for doing basic nice things (e.g., Amelia thanking Grace for help), though numbers going down for basic nice things isn’t guaranteed. (At age 10, Grace’s number is 148 both before and after comforting Simon.) It’s worth mentioning they would still have to deal with their problems, not just live a comfortable and stable life: if just having a dependable friend would have been sufficient for Simon to deal with his (probable) abandonment issues, Simon’s number would have gotten to zero long before he was 18.

Skipped: Knowing the Numbers Exist, and Their Function

Tulip’s number was 89 during the first DolphWorld flashback in The Cat’s Car. It’s last seen in that episode at either 45 or 15, depending on the length of the vertical line in the first number, which isn’t fully seen. By the time she checks on it by the end of The Chrome Car, it goes down only briefly, and ends at 3. Judging by how the number flickers only briefly by the end of The Chrome Car, it’s probable Tulip’s number lowered during The Unfinished Car and The Chrome Car, strongly suggesting passengers don’t need to know their number values for them to lower. The fact Simon’s, Grace’s, and Amelia’s numbers are so incredibly large would make it difficult to recall the exact numbers, anyway, and yet Grace and Amelia did get number drops.

Jesse's number doesn't increase when he supports the “new Alan Dracula” or orders Alan Dracula to laser away the vines (not expecting him to actually do it).

This would suggest not every instance of behaviors or attitudes away from emotional growth or fixing problems causes numbers to go up. That might explain the very slow pace of Simon’s and Grace’s number-raising, despite being on the Train for years.

[colderthancoldest]

Return Home To You

Dhawan!Master x Reader

Summary: Last you heard from the Master, he was on his way to propose an alliance with some of the galaxy's worst criminals. When he finally returns, it's clear the meeting didn't go as planned.

Reader comforts the Master basically, fluff piece, loosely inspired by Hozier’s ‘Work Song’

Inspired by: This post by @flybi91

Warnings: Injuries, blood, ect

Word Count: About 2.2k

---

You've been worried about the Master for some time now. Last you saw him, he had been on his way to meet a very dangerous man about the possibility of a high-stakes alliance. He had dropped you off at your apartment to return to your normal life, citing that it was a better way you spent your time. However, you suspected he was secretly trying to keep you safe in case things went sideways.

You had begged him to be careful around such powerful and violent figures, but he had reassured you- the way he always does- that he knows what he's doing.

He promised you everything would be perfectly alright and he would return as soon as the deal was sealed.

That was 2 weeks ago.

'He has a time machine,' you tell yourself, 'he easily could have gotten the date wrong with a press of a button.'

'He could return any second and maybe only a few hours have passed for him,' you lie to yourself.

Normally, it wouldn't be much of a stretch to consider the possibility of a time machine missing it's mark by a few weeks- however you know him.

You know the Master, absolutely and completely. As he so often makes a point of, "You probably know me better than anyone ever has."

He would never leave you for this long without telling you. And more than than, he'd promised to return once his meeting was over. What could possibly be keeping him?

You try to distract yourself with anything you can think of just to starve off the sick feeling such worries bring, but they grow stronger every day. There's a nauseating, gnawing at your gut that perhaps something has happened to him and he's too hurt to make good on his promise.

You trust him, but the Master is only one man. There are some things beyond even his control.

-

You've been thinking about it all evening when you realize it's been three full weeks since you last saw him. You don't even care what's happened anymore, you just hope more than anything that he's not lying dead in a ditch on a planet you could never hope to reach alone.

It's a beautiful fall evening when you finally hear the familiar, rhythmic noise of the Tardis engines.

You convinced the Tardis to translate her manual once- you and his telepathic craft have a certain bond in that way- and diagnosed the wheezing sound as a simple issue of unoiled breaks.

The Master, without a doubt the most stubborn person you've ever met, refused to let you fix the problem- but the way he had looked at you that day still lingers in your mind as if it was yesterday.

You would give anything for him to look at you like that again. With so much love and intrigue and something almost impressed in those gorgeous deep eyes of his. More than anything, you need to see those perfect eyes once more and know that he's alright.

At the sound of the Tardis, you seek out the noise as quickly as you're able. You're almost happy he refused to change the noise because if he had, you may not have recognized it.

You find the familiar craft settled in an ally just around the corner. As you hurry over the walkway littered in colorful autumn leaves, you get the terrible feeling that the Tardis seems relieved to be found by you. You've had this feeling before- once when the Master had gotten into a particularly bad bar fight and the Tardis had returned his unconscious body to you- but it's stronger this time, and that terrifies you.

"What is it?" you breathe once she's in your sights. You're a little out of breath from tracking down the Tardis but you're not about to let that slow you down. The Tardis only swings open her doors for you.

You barely make it inside when your body freezes involuntarily and you stop. There's blood on the floor, a trail like a leaking container of milk through a grocery store. You can see the pattern of exactly where the Master had walked and for how long he stood there by the size of the tiny pools laid out before you.

As you enter, the Master's back is to you. Both of his hands are clutching tight to the controls of his ship and you immediately recognize that something's wrong from the way he has himself braced.

Just as quickly as you had stopped, you run to him.

"Are you alright? I mean, obviously not but- Tell me how to help," you quickly ask the Master, your words tumbling out nervously.

He refuses to look at you.

"I didn't want you to see me like this," he breathes as a small string of blood escapes his lips.

He stands there like he's okay, but you know for certain that he's not. If he was, he would have spun around in that theatrical way he likes to and flash you a bright, award-winning smile. Instead he only stands there with his hands gripping tight to the stand like he can barely do just that.

"She brought me here anyways," the Master considers quietly, clearly referring to the Tardis.

He doesn't sound like he's fully there as he gives you a small laugh, barely a little huff of amusement, and his grip falters for a second.

His hands were coated in blood, far too much for you to know where or who it had come from. All you know is that it's a bad sign.

"It's okay. You're safe now. Let me help you," you offer.

No response.

"Tell me how to help you," you then add more firmly when it appears he didn't quite hear you.

The sharpness in your tone gets his attention.

"I'm sorry," he says. His voice crackles and he finally turns to look at you.

The side of his face is bruised terribly. His lips are bleeding profusely from numerous cuts against his teeth. His left side is bleeding, he shifts all his weight to one leg so it doesn't seem too obvious that the other is injured. There's blood smeared down nearly every square inch of his clothes and you're not sure what's worse- if it's his or someone else's.

You take his face gently in your hands and allow his soft skin and sharp beard to mix sensations beneath your fingertips.

"Look at me," you ask.

He can barely get his eyes to stay on you. They keep focusing in and out of reality and you're half certain he's going to pass out when he finally locks those eyes on you.

All at once, you know you can fix this because there he is again. At the end of the day, all he is is another living soul and, no matter what happens, he'll always return home to you.

"You're going to be okay," you promise softly, "Don't worry about explaining right now. Just tell me how to help."

He breathes something weak, perhaps a sigh of relief, and nods.

"There's a medbay," his mouth and voice crackle from the tears slowly filling his eyes and the blood threatening to fill his throat.

"The Tardis can show you the extent of my injuries and help to patch me up," the Master says before forcing himself to take a deep breath.

"Alright," you agree as you pull one of the Master's arms over your shoulders and wrap your own arm around his side to guide him.

One of his legs is clearly badly injured, but he doesn't do much more than wince as you help him down one of the concealed halls. Thankfully, the Tardis understands the Master's situation and not only moves the room closer, but also opens all the doors for you.

The Master is relieved when his body finally falls into a small, hospital-like bed in the aforementioned medbay. He gives a low groan at the effort it takes, but he seems much happier once he can rest.

The Tardis performs a scan and begins her own work patching up the worst of the Master's wounds with a small claw-like arm. It cuts away a small gap in the torn fabric, cleans the wound, and then goes to work with some futuristic stitches.

Medicine was never your procession, so you do what you can by getting a damp cloth to wipe off some of the blood. If it's his, then you have to make sure he isn't bleeding anywhere else.

Usually the Master is all jokes and gallows humor, but he barely seems able to stay conscious. The fact that he's still trying to stay awake worries you. You wonder what he thinks will happen if he doesn't.

"I'm sorry," he tries again. "This isn't your job but I-"

He stops and weakly turns his head away from you, trying to hide the more damaged side of his face.

"Have nowhere else to go?" you ask softly.

He closes his eyes and tries to hide his expression, but you know that's what he meant.

You push the barrier down on the side of the bed and lean down to reach him. You wrap one arm around his back and move the over to hold the back of his head as you hug him.

His arms immediately reach up to hold you in return. You can practically feel the tremor in his hands as his arms tighten around you.

"I was scared I would regenerate," he confesses softly into your shoulder. He was getting blood everywhere, but it was a small price to pay to comfort him.

The Master's arms tightened and despite the way his muscles shook and strained to keep a hold of you, he refuses to let go for a minute more.

"I was scared I wouldn't see you again. This me anyways. And what if I came back as someone else? What if you... didn't feel the same way about them?"

You lean closer into him so he doesn't have to strain as much. You run your fingers through his hair and do your best to sooth him as the Tardis does her best to patch the deep tear in his side. Slowly and gradually, you know it's working by the way his fingers gently loosen on the fistfuls of your clothes.

"We would have figured it out," you promise him, "But with that said, please try not to die."

He laughs a little at that and it's enough to let you know that he'll be alright if he can pull through the worst of this.

-

Eventually, when he's stable and calm enough, you settle him to lay down and he lets you pull away. You catch a glimpse of gold flicker across the top of his hand, now clean from blood, and just as quickly disappear. The Master looks like he's perfectly content pretending he didn't catch you notice how bad a condition he's in- and yet you can't help but smile.

"You always have been the most stubborn person I've ever met," you chuckle a little.

"Ever the survivor, me," he replies quietly with a smirk.

You look him over once more. He's even more exhausted than before now that the fear and adrenaline have worn off. The Tardis has given him some medicine to counter what you know must be agony. Still, he's in pain, and you can't help but wonder how often he goes through it alone.

"You can always come back to me, you know," you assure him as you pull up a chair and lean down to his level.

He turns to look at you, his deep eyes so loving and gentle as they look over you. You can see that he believes you, and it's enough to bring tears to the edges of his vision.

"No matter what," you promise firmly.

The Master swallows back his tears and blood.

"You'll stay?" he asks softly, almost in disbelief, "You won't get scared and leave?"

You smile, a deep and sad smile, because he should really know this by now. He should know that you're loyal to a fault, just as he is.

It's a tight fit, but you climb into the bed next to him and settle yourself against his less-wounded side. You retrieve an ice pack from the table next to you and offer it to the Master for the damaged side of his face. He holds it to his bruises as you hold him and watch for his breathing as the Tardis's scan confirms he's healing properly.

"You're lucky," you tell him with your head on his shoulder. You're covered in blood by this point too, but it doesn't really matter.

"You're stable for now," you explain. "Once I can move you without aggravating your wounds we'll get you properly cleaned up," you assure him.

The Master hums in agreement as he begins to drift off. Now that he knows he's in safe hands and that he won't be regenerating anytime soon- not to mention the medication that's finally kicked in- he finally appears to be okay with letting go of the conscious world.

"Yes," he agrees quietly with one arm settled around you and his other hands in yours, "I suppose I am quite lucky."

[myidlehand]

The Path 

(trigger warning for blood)

(Now with a happy prequel named The Cave)

(on AO3)

I have this image of Jaskier trying to carry Geralt after a creature attacks them on the way up to Kaer Morhen, right when they were coming back to settle for an early winter. The snow has been falling without a stop for two days now, early for the season.

They are three quarters up the Path when they get to attack it and Geralt gets hurt badly. Even for a Witcher, it’s not something he’s going to come back from easily. Had he been on his own he thinks it would have killed him. He feels so stupid for letting his guard down, especially so near the Keep when he knows monsters are lurking. He let himself get caught completely unaware. But Jaskier was singing and talking and smiling, gods smiling so much like he couldn’t stop himself every time he told Geralt how excited he was to winter with him and finally get to meet the other Witchers. And Geralt got distracted, blinded by how genuinely happy Jaskier was. Maybe he let himself be a little happy too, for finally getting his bard to the only place he’s ever called home and introducing him to his family. He shouldn’t have. He should have been vigilant, always. But Jaskier had a way to make Geralt lose himself in the good things.

Jaskier is desperate to get Geralt to Kaer Morhen before he bleeds out from the huge gash in his abdomen and the numerous other cuts. He won’t stop no matter what. And Geralt is trying so hard not to put so much weight on Jaskier but he's hurting so bad by now, he's barely conscious even with the potions. His feet are not cooperating and keeps going out from under him. He knows Jaskier is stronger than he looks and can carry him for a bit, it wouldn’t be the first time, but he doesn't want to be a burden. Not when he’s so weak he knows he won’t be able to go on without help. Not when there’s not a drop of strength left in him to protect the bard if need be. He’d rather die than to put Jaskier in danger again because of his own weakness.

Jaskier has draped Geralt’s arm over his shoulder and is almost completely dragging him now, whispering words of encouragement to his Witcher and begging him quietly to not give up, not when they are so close. He can see the highest tower of the Keep in the distance already. Geralt growls from the pain every time Jaskier has to readjust his arm, he keeps slipping from his grasps.

They almost make it. They are so so close. But Jaskier finally collapses under Geralt's weight and gets trapped under him. He’s too weak from the cold and his own wound, that Geralt hasn't even noticed because so much of his blood was covering Jaskier.

He tries so hard to get out from under Geralt but it's so cold and he's so tired after dragging the Witcher halfway up the rest of the Path. He's bleeding quite a lot himself and gradually feels the cold take him. He whispers an apology to Geralt, for being unable to go on. He's always been able to carry Geralt before. It doesn't happen often but when it did Jaskier was always there to catch him and drag Geralt back to their bedrolls to take care of him. He's sorry, so sorry for being too weak this time and not being able to save Geralt. He should have, he promised he would always look after the Witcher. But in the end, he couldn’t honour his words and failed Geralt so badly. He’s going to die and it’s Jaskier's fault for being too weak, too human like he always is. It's his last thought before he falls unconscious, the snow falling heavily above them.

A few hours later Eskel and Lambert find them half-buried under the snow. They were four days behind the others but caught up to them after finding the carcass, the smell of a fresh kill overpowering everything else. It hasn't been stripped of anything useful and that's when it hits them something is very very wrong. Nobody but a Witcher would be up this far on the Path when it was snowing so heavily. It doesn't take them long to understand what happened. It's the smell of blood that gives Geralt and Jaskier away first. Eskel knows Geralt’s scent better than his own and it’s not hard following the trail of blood left in the snow, even if most of it has been covered already. He doesn’t need to see it to follow. It doesn't take long for him to find them, the snow has turned red where they collapsed, saturated with two different bloods.

Jaskier stir when a hand grabs his arm. His bright doublet giving his position easily even under the snow. He looks up with difficulty at two ember eyes and a face that looks almost like Geralt's if it wasn't for the scars and the dark hairs. Eskel, he remembers from the description. It’s safe.

"Save him" he begs before losing consciousness again.

Eskel doesn't need to say anything to Lambert who's already right by his side. He grabs Geralt and turns him over, off of the bard’s back. The smell of blood is so much stronger now that Jaskier's clothes are not socking it up. Eskel’s nose twitches instinctively in disdain. Geralt barely responds when Lambert tilts his head to force him to drink another potion. Eskel doesn't waste any more time, he drops his sword and drapes Geralt over both his shoulders. Geral gasps from the pain and it goes right to Eskel’s core. He can’t lose his brother, not like this. The wound is so bad and it's so cold he doesn't think he has time to remove Geralt armour to see to the gash before his brother dies from exsanguination. He needs to bring him to Vesemir as soon as possible. He grabs his swords again but leaves his pack. He'll recover it when he can, it doesn't matter right now. He hates that Roach is nowhere to be seen, he knows Geralt will be devastated if something happened to her.

Lambert drags Jaskier over his left shoulder and runs after Eskel. He's not a believer but this time he prays all the gods he knows they can make it in time to Kaer Morhen.

[sugar-petals]

The more i dissociate around people or become anxious the more and more i understand yoongi and people that like being recluse and homebody

the imprints of discomfort behind why someone isolates themselves usually stack up.

fear is a main component: shame, confusion, paranoia, indecision, cynicism, depression, dissociation, low esteem and alienation come right along. it’s never just one emotion, you get an entire cluster that will cage you in. the person’s values i.e. boundaries are hard to unite with the dominant social dynamic around them, so the feeling of difference is staggering. unless you get hooked on a substance, reclusion is the only way to deal with the pressure, awkwardness meaning humiliation and anguish if you feel exhausted from trying or being encroached on (i argue that 70-80% of reclusive people have been bullied). those walls are hard to break and valuable contacts difficult to establish. that pattern can stay for a lifetime even if you work hard to resolve it. reclusion is one of the most deep-wired things i know and projects doubt into any person you encounter.

yoongi is both sensitive and self-conscious and easily escapes into pragmatism over emotions to shield himself. it’s not been responded to. being put on the spot, bent into something else, deprioritized, disappointed, left by yourself, things like that, your self-worth and ability/will to connect is eroded over time. you stop seing the point and it’s legitimate, and become a one person army who rejects others habitually. recluses have been driven to a point of giving up. yoongi verbatim has been strictly parented in the early years, he’s seen many hostile environments and embarrassments. i can see why he was not given what he needed nor learned bonding skills or had a motivation to begin with since people made him feel bad instead of fully welcomed and treated without causing him resentments. 

in a way, yoongi’s avoidance is often similar to namjoon’s but the latter does it to avoid conflict. yoongi secludes himself for peace of mind and preventing heartbreak even if that means sacrificing his needs. jungkook is similar, if not more extreme, though he retains some bodily energy at least. yoongi goes from social depletion to getting even more deprived since one-on-one does charge his batteries. but he can’t get it if he keeps his distance which he does even if others are beside him. that he’s had enough self-control to quit smoking and drinking to cope is an admirable thing. though the root problem will stick around even if you build up your boundaries and restructure your entire social surrounding which is by its very nature hard to control. 

i think the only thing you can do is be very selective with your trust and work yourself from distance to finding similarities. opening up is something to do very gradually, as is leaving the house if at all, it’s better to receive visits or tag along with others when going out. a mentality that helps is that people will first and foremost be concerned with themselves before they look for humiliation in others. also, not labelling people who reach out to you as pitying people with savior complexes, they might have genuine interest in you.