#that's this gentle openly fond half-smile thing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cheriecoke · 1 year ago

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it's been decades since you've last seen dazai; your lover & your maker. now that you're finally happy, he's haunting you again with a thousand buried memories.

overall contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, exes to lover, gothic romance, blood drinking, vampire!reader, vampire!dazai, smut, cheating reader, complicated relationships, blood, gore, jealousy, manipulation, religious symbolism, betrayal, reunions — 6.3k words

PART IV ♰ MASTERLIST

The next evening came quickly, and for the first time in a long while, you were able to sleep through the day. Morning came and went, and the sun faded away without you lying awake, miserable, missing the light of day.

Although Dazai emitted no warmth, you still slept soundly on his chest, the feeling of his arms around you comforting in a way that was undeniable.

When you awoke to another starry sky, clouded over by a mist of smoke, the coffin was empty, and Dazai was gone. The thin blanket pooled at your feet, kicked aside, there for no other reason but for the semblance of a routine where you slept wrapped within soft covers. A beam of light sifted through the cracked coffin, lid pushed to the side, allowing the silver moonlight to caress you gently back to an air of life.

Sitting up, you pushed the coffin lid aside, swallowing the wave of regret that swam through your body. Atsushi’s gentle smile lit up your mind, and you shut your eyes briefly, trying to will it away.

This was a mistake—everything had been a mistake from the moment you’d found Dazai in that bar. It was a mistake to ever think you could drink from him without letting him drag you down with him. Never had you been able to deny yourself the indulgence of his lips, the taste of him so fond in your memories, and you’d been naïve to think this time would be different.

“You slept like the dead,” Dazai said with a cheeky smile, sauntering over to sit at the edge of the bed, staring at you from feet away. Your lips drew together, thin, unamused.

The shift in the air was palpable, the string of oxygen between you pulled tight. Though, you were grateful that Dazai was the one to break the silence, as you still mulled over something to say, observing the subtle little changes in his countenance.

For one, you couldn’t recall a time that he had ever looked so happy, so carefree. A brightness had resumed itself, as if only on pause for half of a century, erasing the resentment, the bitter hatred that had clouded it. The smile on his dark lips tugged upward easily, his eyes an ambered brown, rather than the black that they had once been.

Things were different—that much was certain. Whatever had transpired between the two of you couldn’t be erased, nor could you eradicate the guilt that had threatened to swallow you whole. The two options clashed against each other; a loss too great on both sides. At the end of it all, your feelings for both Atsushi and Dazai were overwhelming, and complicated.

But you couldn’t think, not when Dazai was so close. Not when you were a moth, and he was the flame, burning bright, and only growing more vicious.

“I need to go home,” you said, gathering your shoes, the clothes that had been strewn across the floor. “I shouldn’t have even come here.”

A beat of silence lingered in the room, settling on the hardwood floors, the soles of your feet, before Dazai stood, his footsteps not making a single sound.

“After all that?” Dazai asked, and though he would never let his surprise show so openly, you knew he’d believed you’d been won over.

That’s all it would’ve taken, back then—a few sweet words, your lips on his, gentle hands across your skin. But you were not the woman you’d once been, and though you were still weak, you’d developed some strength.

“After everything, how can you still doubt that we are meant to be together?”

You pinched your face together, wondering if you were a fool for running back to Atsushi. If your love for the mortal man was only a means to an end, a way for you to forget the clutch that another vampire had around your heart. How Dazai’s fingers could squeeze their way around your arteries, and you would watch, blindly, as the blood trickled down his palm.

Was it love or hate you felt? Of both, you were uncertain.

“Osamu,” you said, shaking your head, your gaze drifting towards the window. What a mess you’d made. “I need some time to think.”

That relaxed him; the tautness of his frame slowly began to melt away. “Time.” He nodded, dark hair falling over even darker eyes. “Okay. I can give you that.”

“I love him, Osamu.”

“You love me too. You can deny it all you want, but I know that you do.”

You looked over at him, blinking from under your lashes. “I don’t know what I feel for you. It was not so long ago that you destroyed me. I have hated you as strongly as I once loved you.”

His face twitched, fingers flexing at his sides. The age old tells of his anger, just as prevalent as the stars in the sky, never ceasing to appear at the end of every day. “Will you never forgive me?” he asked, clenching his jaw, tongue appearing in his cheek. “I have given you everything I have to offer. Your life… my life.”

“You haven’t given me patience, Osamu. You haven’t given me the chance to believe that your love is worth the pain that comes with it.”

Dazai looked away, chest rising and falling with the air he didn’t breathe, but made himself anyway, keeping up the appearance of a human being. He had always been so much better at that – perhaps it was the reason he had lived this long. No one had doubted his place in the world, had mistaken him for a monster, unlike the innocent lives that had been lost to such a slaughter.

“Is patience really something I can offer when you are to wed another? Surely your fiancé will grow weary of waiting,” he said, stepping closer, expression serious, devoid of his usual smugness. “You want time, but it is slipping through my fingers.”

“You have nothing left but time.” You shook him off, ignoring the pulsating need that thrummed through your body, never satiated, always wanting more. Your gaze flicked to his vein, then away, as you pushed past him, headed to the door. “Don’t come after me. I will not give you any more chances.”

Dazai said nothing, irritated, but he let you go, and you escaped into the dark haze of the midnight.

Your meetings with Dazai stalled for a few days, as Atsushi returned, and you were left with a muddled mind and a mix of contradicting thoughts. It was best anyway, you figured, to put some distance between you and Dazai, in order for you to work out exactly what it was that was going on.

Despite the conflict you felt within yourself—for wanting to love Dazai once more, for wanting to hate him—you didn’t entirely trust him. Years of memories pointed to a Dazai that was so similar, yet vastly different from the version he presented to you. One that was just as manipulative, conniving, yet held a loyalty and a steadfast love for you that had since been unbroken.

Though, love was easily faked, especially for someone like Osamu. You, with your weak heart, were probably falling right into his trap. How foolish you would be to leave a perfectly good life behind for a man that you could never fully trust, despite how much you yearned for him.

Yet, he never left your mind, always lingering like a curse. Some part of you wondered if there was a deeper magic at play, if maybe, the bond between you as creation and maker had tied you so intricately together than you would always long for him.

But you knew nothing of that…if magic existed outside of the bloodsucking demons that you had joined, if there was a world out there of other supernatural entities you knew nothing about.

Still, it would explain nearly all of your everlasting woes. How Dazai could fuck up time and time again, and you would still crawl back to him, albeit reluctantly. How you craved his blood like a brainless addict, sacrificing your pride for just another hit.

You hoped, if even a little bit, that that was true. At least, that way, you could explain your desperation for him without it being something as complex as love. Something that you could avoid, if you really tried, rather than letting yourself indulge, thinking that you couldn’t help it.

It was cold when Atsushi returned, the weather already growing fickle as autumn bled into winter. He looked better, his eyes brighter, his skin less pale than it had been when he left. His hair seemed freshly scrubbed, clean from a bath at whatever hotel he’d visited for the few nights of escape.

Though, under his softer complexion, you could see the weight that still rested on Atsushi’s shoulders, and the burden that he’d worn for the past few weeks.

Smiling, you watched as he walked through the door, trudging in his heavy boots. There was certainly more life to him now, now that he wasn’t constantly sent on missions, awake for hours into the evening, until his eyes ran bloodshot.

“I missed you,” you said, stretching your arms over to him, body reacting to him, just as it did Dazai. The joy that spread across you was warm, despite the lack of utter feeling that something lingered in your chest.

Atsushi relaxed, then, tension falling from his shoulders. Almost like he’d expected you to start the conversation a different way – a thought that you instantly sequestered.

“I missed you too, honey,” Atsushi said, leaning down to peck your lips, his hair brushing across your forehead. “Everything okay while I was gone?”

Words of a dutiful husband, lover, friend – despite that fact that anyone who could have possibly hurt you wouldn’t be fazed by the presence of a human.

“Everything’s been fine,” you hummed, ignoring the vision of you on Dazai’s thighs that flashed into your mind, your teeth digging into the flesh of his neck. “How are you feeling?”

Atsushi looked at you for a moment longer, memorizing each of your features after just a few days away, and put on a gentle smile. His fingers grazed the sharp hollows of your cheeks, the coldness of your skin sending a shiver down his arm. Goosebumps trailed along his flesh, the hair standing straight up, but he didn’t seem bothered. Not after two years of the same routine.

“I’m better.” The words held little conviction, though, and you couldn’t help but feel that there was something bothering him still.

Or you were just paranoid that he had somehow found out you were protecting Dazai.

Protecting.

Was that the word? You’d been trying to protect Atsushi, hadn’t you? By keeping him away from Dazai. Yet, the more you lingered on it, the more you began to question if that was even the case at all.

Atsushi kissed the wrinkle that formed on your forehead, and you held his hand tightly against your cheek, grounding yourself. How much better things would be if Dazai had left in the first place, if he’d just stayed far away, and never approached you at your party. Had never killed anyone in your town, overworking your partner and murdering your neighbors.

“I’m glad,” you said, instead of focusing on things that could’ve been. You brushed Atsushi’s hair away from his face, his hair so much softer than you remembered—cleaner. “You look better. I’m glad you were able to get some rest.”

“Yeah, well,” Atsushi sighed, shrugging. “Honestly, I’m not sure how much of a difference it made. I’ll just be heading back into work tomorrow. They’ve found more bodies, I hear. I’m sure I’ll just be back to where I was before soon. Everyone’s exhausted.”

You frowned again, pausing your gentle caress against the back of Atsushi’s palm. So that was what was wrong with him. You’d been so busy with Dazai, that you hadn’t even stopped to think that he was still killing people. It seemed you’d been caring for little other than yourself, these days.

“Good thing they’ve got their best detective back, then,” you said, trying for a more light-hearted tone. “I’m sure you’ll be able to solve this in no time, Atsushi.”

Still, he seemed unconvinced—but he kissed your forehead one more time, relaxing. He left you, then, to change out of his day clothes before sliding back into bed. It had been days since you’d last fed off of Dazai’s blood, but you didn’t feel so reckless, so hungry, that this sort of proximity left you with an aching need to bite Atsushi. Instead, you felt warm, consoled by his presence, and reminded of how gentle you could be, despite your nature.

“I love you,” you said quietly, as he slowly began to drift off, his breathing turning into a snore. “I hope you never forget it.”

A little laugh left him, but something about it seemed nervous—had you really left Atsushi to doubt your affection for him? Though, after all the things you’d done, you probably deserved that sort of karma.

“I know,” Atsushi said, humming, squeezing your hand under the covers. “Sometimes, that’s the only thing that I’m certain of.”

The memory of Atsushi’s words left a sour taste in your mouth that lingered as you slept through the day, a palpable anger tensing your body. The rage ran rampant through you from all of Dazai’s lies, promises that he had not kept. At the truth that he’d admitted before – that everything he’d done was to keep Atsushi occupied and away from you.

Dazai was not at the bar when you went the next night, and Atsushi worked late, still out when you left your home after sundown. And when you returned, with a hunger that couldn’t be satisfied by the gutter rats, your fiancé slept, soundly, hardly alert enough to hear your footsteps against the creaky floors.

You sat in the corner of the room, staring at the cracks of moonlight that brightened into orange rays, wishing once more that you could brush your fingertips along them, if only for a moment, to remember what it was like to be alive.

The routine continued. Anger consumed you, but Dazai didn’t return to the bar the next night. Or the night after that.

“Are you eating enough?” Atsushi had said that morning, the sixth day that you had gone without Dazai’s blood. You’d become irritable, snapping at him over the smallest things.

Digging your nails into your arm, the scarlet warmth dripping down to your elbow as you tried to distract yourself from the thrumming through Atsushi’s veins, you’d nodded and changed the subject.

You knew that you looked awful, and your promises were not believed by Atsushi. Your faded complexion was ghastly, inhuman. How easy it would be to give yourself away to others, for them to see that your humanity and morality was but a farce – it was much too obvious now, that you walked around looking like you’d just crawled out of the grave.

Dazai did not show up at the bar again, and desperately, you went to his hotel, hopeful that he had not moved.

It was loud outside of the building, despite nearing midnight. A crowd of drunk men loitered outside of the building, cheering their glasses together. They sang a plethora of songs in untuned keys, stumbling over their feet to get to one another. Women lined the streets, silk dresses with revealing necklines, smiling for men who would never be able to deserve them.

Despite the scene outside, the hotel was relatively quiet, many of the tenants asleep for the night. The clerk at the front desk seemed unbothered that you waltzed in, already headed towards the stairs, without bothering to speak with him.

You had been in such a disoriented state the last time you’d been here that you’d forgotten to look around, take in the atmosphere of the hotel. It was, really, a miracle that you’d even found your way there.

It wasn’t much on the outside, modest and unassuming, and the interior was anything but. Bright colors of gold and green that you only vaguely remembered from your previous visit adorned the inside, leather couches circling a vast library of books. A pair of older men, smoking cigars, fumbled over a game of chess, their shadowy eyes revealing that they were both desperate to call it quits. A young woman, perhaps the same age that you’d been when you died, perched in a chair, wearing a beautiful gown of rose pink, soothed a crying infant.

It was certainly with its’ grandeur, though that was to be expected, with the centuries of wealth Dazai had lining his pockets. You couldn’t imagine he’d stay anywhere less than impressive.

The man at the desk smiled at you in recognition, and you realized that you must have spoken to him when you’d last been here – or, Dazai had told him to let you pass if you were to come. Just another way you’d fallen into his trap, an endless scheme that was nothing more than a game to him. You were being played, not the other way around.

Still, you trudged up the stairs like a wounded soldier, surrendering. The rage had settled deep within your chest, flattening. Even with the betrayal that encompassed your memories of Dazai, you would always turn into a different sort of person when you were hungry.

Before you could regret your actions, you knocked on the door, once, then again, running your hands along the smooth skin of your forearms. There was a noise from inside, a soft sort of giggle, before the door opened, revealing Dazai, eyes dark, but a smile on his face, nonetheless.

“There you are,” he said, closing his fingers around your wrists, pulling you through the threshold before anyone could see you. He seemed to be clouded over with affection, or lust—but of which, you weren’t certain. “I was wondering when you would show up.”

He kissed you, then, soft, and gently, the way that Atsushi greeted you when you returned home. It was too loving, the quick peck of Dazai’s lips, and you scowled, drawing backwards, the irritation resurfacing.

“Osamu,” you said, sharply, creating a clear division between you and him. “I told you –”

But the words died on your lips when you glanced behind him, noticing the pretty, young woman that was perched on the end of the bed. She laughed again, cheeks flushed red under her tanned skin, dark hair flat across her shoulders. The woman gave you a small little wave, not in the slightest embarrassed, as her eyelids fluttered shut.

You blinked, drawing your gaze slowly away from her, back to Dazai, who was still grinning, teeth glinting in the moonlight, predatory and wicked. His expression was a clear vision of all the reasons you should have stayed far away from him, why what little trust you had for him would continue to rise and fall, until you’d gone so many steps backwards that you would be right where you had been.

“What—” But you stopped yourself, trying to gather the right words, to not sound like a jealous fiend, while still demanding answers.

Dazai, to his credit, and all of his promises that things were different this time, did not give you a chance to finish your sentence. “It’s not what it looks like,” he said, gesturing back towards her, before licking his lips. “I’m not… Not like that.”

You stared at him; eyes hard as you searched for a lie. But he’d always been so talented at dishonesty, and you had never been very good at sorting the truth out of fraudulence. “Then what is it? You’re bringing your dinner back to your room now, for no reason? How do you plan to get rid of the body, Osamu? You’re going to have to leave, you know. Someone could see.”

Though, that thought should’ve made you happier, you realized that you almost sounded disappointed, that you were helping him, when you’d been telling yourself to expel him from your city for months.

Dazai rolled his eyes. “Relax. I’m certainly not worried about any of the detectives in this town,” he said, the jab at your fiancé not going unnoticed. “I’ve thrown them off my trail enough times at this point.”

You frowned, wrapping your arms around yourself in protection as Dazai led you forward, a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Besides, she’s not for me, darling.”

The words took a moment to sink in, as you stared at the woman, so peaceful, unassuming, despite everything that she’d clearly heard. You could hear her heart beating under her skin, the color in her cheeks so bright and warm, nothing even close to death. Long breaths escaped her, and she smiled at you, so sweetly, that for a moment, you were considering –

Before the reality of the situation dawned upon you, and you jerked out of Dazai’s hold, away from the young woman, and slapped your former lover across the cheek.

The sound resounded through the room, but the force did little to even jerk his cheek. He stayed still, amused, and held your wrist loosely in his palm once more. “Would you listen—”

“I don’t feed off humans anymore,” you said, your words sharp, eyes narrowed angrily. “I promised myself two years ago that I would not, and I have been true to my word. Yet, here you are, the vilest creature I have ever set my sights upon, trying to lead me back down a road that leads to nothing but emptiness.”

Dazai blinked, before erupting into a fit of laughter. “A tad dramatic, even for you, my love. This is but a manifestation of your very nature as a vampire.” His gaze drew across your features, the way your hunger was evident in the curl of your fangs over your lips, your arms wrapped around yourself to keep from lunging at the poor woman. “You cannot deny the hunger that you feel—”

“It’s wrong, Osamu,” you spat bitterly, thinking of your mortal fiancé back home, who would not deserve this sort of end. How easily he could’ve been the one lured to the wolves’ den by Dazai, sitting on the bed of a vampire, none the wiser to the fact that he was to be someone’s dinner. “I was once a human too, was I not?”

Dazai laughed once more, mocking you, this time. For clinging onto the little bit of humanity that you had left, even after all this time. “As was I. But how long has it been since you were human?”

You said nothing.

Dazai crept closer, eyes like a hawk, so sharp and pointed along every line of your body. They flashed a deep ebony, drowning out the sweet caramel colors that always lingered in his irises. “You have always deluded yourself, and you continue to do so.” His fingers were back against your cheek, like long, protruding icicles, against even your icy flesh. “You feel so much better when I’m the one doing the killing, that you can’t see that drinking from me is just as bad as doing the killing yourself.”

Your jaw slackened, falling open, and, despite your better judgement, you let him draw his fingertips across your lips, softly smiling at the delicate feeling of them. “What do you mean?”

“I kill twice as many humans to keep up with your ever-increasing appetite. You might as well have done the deed on your own.” Dazai drew the words out, bored, waving his hand dismissively. And though you had to have known that, could feel in the deepest depths of your soul that that was true, you’d been all too happy to ignore it.

To continue on believing that your choice to use him as a blood source was for the benefit of not only you, but the humans you refused to kill, to bleed to death.

Dazai pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, the feeling of his lips, a touch so sweet, sending a shiver down your spine. “You can feed from her without killing her,” he said, drawing you closer and closer to the woman, though you felt stiff as your regret whirled under your skin. Dazai held you to his chest, and you let him, basking in the familiar touch, the familiar hatred and love baked into one emotion that had always confused you.

“You won’t stop me,” you said, mouth moving, though the words didn’t entirely feel your own. You stared at the girl over Dazai’s shoulder, who seemed in a drunk daze, Dazai’s manipulation working against her. “You’ll say you will, but you’re a liar, Dazai.”

“I will. I’ve stopped you before, haven’t I?” he pulled back, meeting your eyes, brushing your hair away from your face. “I promise.”

You began to object, to remind him of how little his promises meant to you, but you could feel the hunger multiplying, it’s claws deep inside of you. It felt like a physical force on its own, and you couldn’t remember a time when you had been so at its mercy, except when you were first reborn, a foolish child with Dazai’s blood coursing through your veins.

And though you wanted to hate him, to blame him for all of your troubles, to call him nothing but a deceiver, you wondered if he really had been telling the truth. If all your years of rejecting human blood had turned you back into the version of yourself that you had not been in a century, of a young vampire who had no control in the face of human blood.

“I’m stronger than you,” Dazai said, following the line of thought in your head, swiping his fingers across the wrinkle there. “It will help you. You won’t crave my blood so often.”

“It won’t taste as good.”

Dazai laughed at the small pout that puckered on your lips, and though you had meant to only think the words, they slipped out anyways. He kissed the frown away, startling you, and yet, you kissed him back, if only for a moment.

“I know it won’t, sweetheart.” Dazai licked his own lips, savoring the taste of you that remained. “But it’ll be better than those rats you’ve been eating, won’t it?”

Always so persuasive, that sharp tongue of his. How easily he could get you to cave with the promise of something so divine, and the lustful glint that coiled in his eyes. You held onto the single shred of morality that was slowly dissipating as you contemplated his sincerity. Then, you let it go, released, and nodded.

Satisfaction curled across Dazai’s expression, and he pulled you over to the bed, the woman, blinking up at you from under her thick lashes. She smiled, almost playful, and another giggle escaped her. “She’s prettier than you promised.”

Dazai, eyes glued to you, softened. “Isn’t she? There’s no one else quite like her.”

For all your resentment towards Dazai, you felt the curl of warm satisfaction spread across your chest, and you glanced away bashfully, hating how he still looked at you with such love. How hard it was getting, every day, to ignore the fact that, maybe, everything he did really was for you and you alone.

“Sit beside her, my love,” Dazai said, leading you to one side of the bed, guiding you into a seated position. Your knees brushed against the human’s, and she pressed it closer, tilting her head away to expose the vein that protruded along her neck.

“Osamu—” you said, glancing up at him with doubt. “I will kill her if you don’t stop me.”

“I know.”

“And if you don’t stop me, I will hate you forever.”

His smile widened, a grimace almost, but he acknowledged that with a nod, and waved his hand, urging you to continue.

You dragged your gaze away from him, back to the impatient woman, who was far too excited for you to slowly drain the life from her. She placed a soft hand on your thigh, the warmth seeping through your skirt, a reminder of the life she had swirling in her veins.

It was enough to propel you forward, and you breathed along her collarbone, ignoring the annoying pang of your heart that wished it was Dazai instead. Your fangs sunk into her neck, and the blood rushed along your tongue, down your throat, a flash of white snapping across your vision.

The thoughts drained from your mind, and you were no longer inside yourself, losing your senses in the sensation of the blood, and how warm it felt in your mouth as it settled in your body. Your fingers curled around her shoulders, and you dragged her closer, hearing a soft little moan leave her mouth as you sucked your lips harder.

It was nowhere near the exhilarating rush of Dazai’s blood, but it was warmer, more satisfying, similar to the fullness you’d received after eating a slab of red meat as a human. You weren’t tethered to the girl like you were your maker, but it was different getting the fresh human blood from the source.

You felt stupid, silly, for always rejecting the need to drink from mortals, when you could remember how good it felt. That was all it would take for you to not feel so empty, day in and day out, only longing for the days when you had never cared at all. It seemed nothing more than a daydream – those days when you were just as bad as Dazai, who had always killed and enjoyed it.

“Enough, my darling,” Dazai said, pinching your jaw, slowly coaxing you off of the woman, careful not to tear her throat while your teeth still latched on.

You tried to push him away, a deep sound reverberating in the back of your throat, but Dazai thrust his slit wrist in front of you, the smell overwhelming, better than the scent of the woman’s sweet blood and perfume.

“I have something better,” he smiled, running his hand over the top of your head as he stood before you, looking far too godly in the silver moonlight. “And I kept my promise, didn’t I?”

You didn’t answer, too busy swallowing the large gulps you had taken of his blood, softly kissing the skin that had broken there. Your nails curled into his forearm, pulling him close as his palm rested on the top of your head, fingertips lightly scratching against your scalp.

“Dazai—” the girl began, and though you were irritated that he’d even told her his name, the blood soothed you as it rushed down your throat.

“Thank you for your generosity, my dear.” Dazai said to her, in that deep, soothing voice of his that he used to compel humans. “You won’t be needed any longer. Go downstairs and forget any of this evening even happened.”

In a trance, the woman left, woozy, still full of laughter as she stumbled across the floor. Her hair had fallen from the clips, dress strap slipping off her shoulder, but Dazai didn’t bother to tell her. Instead, when you came off of his wrist, a gasp expelling from your lungs, Dazai pushed you back onto the bed, crawling over you, kissing all over your face.

Your eyes shot wide for just a moment, before you relaxed into him, threading your fingers through his hair, let him taste his own blood on your mouth. His tongue darted across your bottom lip, swiping the blood that had gathered there, before he moaned, the sound a vibration against your skin.

“Fuck,” he said, coaxing your hands from his scalp, pinning them to the bed. You could feel him straining against his pants, his clothed cock brushing up against your thigh. “The things you do to me.” Dazai kissed up your neck, across your jaw, lacing your fingers together. A soft sigh left you, and you let your head rest delicately on the bed. “I love you,” he whispered, just beneath your jaw, words so gentle that you began to believe them.

You glanced up as he backed away, hair falling down over his forehead as he stared at you, caressing your cheek. The haze of his blood still consumed you, but you felt so light under his hold, like the burdens of your entire life could fade away entirely from his touch. “Osamu,” you began, kissing his fingertips, though the smile didn’t pull entirely on your face, too uncertain.

He sighed, and then sat up, his knees still on either side of your hips, a frown furrowing his features. You crawled out from under him, kissing his cheeks, his nose, before he pushed you back, running his fingers through his hair.

“What’s the matter?” you said, reaching for him, even as he evaded your grasp.

Dazai sat at the edge of the bed, his hair mussed, expression vacant. He didn’t answer your question immediately, and swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

You laughed, dizzy, as you crawled over to him. “What do you mean, Osamu?”

But once again, he evaded your touch, standing, stalking to the other side of the room, holding only a loose rope on his anger. “I miss you. So badly. I want you; I love you, but I don’t know how to make you come back to me.” He glanced at you, and you could see the hurt in his expression, before he sat at the table, arms crossed over his chest. “My blood… does that to you, and it makes me think that maybe, things can go back to the way they were before.” He sighed, dropping his head. “Instead, everything I do just seems to make you hate me more.”

You blinked, feeling discarded on the bed, and you slumped forward, before making your way to your feet. Your dress had wrinkled, and you smoothed it back out, straightened the straps, fixed your hair. Still, Dazai wouldn’t look at you, and you were struck by his vulnerability, the earnestness in his expression. “I just—” you began, but you had no idea where you were planning to take that statement, too focused on the cloudiness that lingered in his gaze. “Osamu…”

“Go home,” he said, jaw clenched, before he looked up at you, his features schooled into another neutral position. “You don’t know what you want right now.”

You frowned, fingers tensing at your sides before you relaxed them. “That’s not fair.”

Dazai glared. “What’s not fair is the fact that you only want me when I give you my blood. What’s not fair is me loving you with every ounce of my being, for centuries, only to find you again with a human. What’s not fair is—”

“You’re not innocent, Osamu,” you said quietly, lip quivering as you tried to think rationally, but you just couldn’t. Every part of you was pulsing with need for him, and though it had never been a problem when you were together, it was a problem now. “You hurt me. I’m trying. I don’t know how to forgive you, but at least I’m trying.”

He stared back at you, an entire minute passing before he spoke again. “You have always been the same as me. Always as awful as you want to claim I am,” he said lowly, sniffing back his indignation. “Every horrible thing I’ve done, you’ve done too. The blood on my hands is on yours also. For every woman I took to bed, you took twice as many men.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, aching, as you looked away. “You left me to die, Osamu. You left me. The vampire hunters came for us, and –”

“God,” he laughed, darkly, shaking his head. “Even now, you don’t believe a word I say. You think, I would’ve left you?”

“Didn’t you?”

“They told me you were dead. Everyone. I came back for you, but you were already gone. I mourned you for decades. And now I’ve found you again…” Dazai trailed off, realizing that you were staring at him curiously, the feeling of drunkenness slowly evaporating from your conscious. “You know what… It doesn’t matter.”

“Really?” A bitter laugh came out of your throat. “You never tell me anything,” you said pointedly, hugging yourself tightly and turning away. “Every time I think I understand you, we take one hundred steps backwards.”

He glared, jaw tight, though fleetingly. The tension smoothed back out, and he sat tall, looking bored, and annoyed by your very presence. “Would it make a difference?” he asked, shaking his head. “You’ll continue to hate me, just because it’s easier.”

You blinked, lips parting briefly before you decided not to even argue with him. Around and around you’d go, at the end of the day, talking each other in circles until you’d gotten so lost, you couldn’t even remember where the conversation had started. “I suppose.”

“Then you better go home. The sun will start to rise soon. I don’t think you’ll want to spend another night here.”

For a moment longer, you watched him, waiting for any slight change in his expression—and when there was none, you turned, and headed towards the door. As you pulled it shut behind you, escaping into the dim hallway, you took one look back at the old vampire, the man you didn’t want yourself to love. But he was ignoring you, easily, his gaze fixated on a point on the opposite side of the room.

You frowned and let the door latch shut.

PART V

tag list: @cerberels @thateldribitch @hauntedsol @osaemu @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @sukiischaotic @hinata7346 @scinclaitnoir @mimimimiminanana @yolkyuyi @xxoolii @zephoncocaine @angelsdemonsandhumans @kouyoumarryme @avocate-assia-dazai @cheriiyaya @iluv-ace @kemis-world @pe4rl-diver @wilbur-the-hottie @zbriia @yasu-masashige @umarureid @flourescentadolescent1 @seikouryuu @dazaiswife1 @kxmilia @chosos-mascara @lacunaanonymousd @vljiki @angelof-darkness @acacia-koi @foxydaydreamer

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cocoscurios · 3 months ago

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The Hour, the Spot, the Look, the Words Chapter Commentary

Chapter Twenty: The Keenest of All Anguish

“There certainly was some great mismanagement in the education of those two young men. One has got all the goodness, and the other all the appearance of it.” “I never thought Mr. Darcy so deficient in the appearance of it as you used to do.” I love that Jane came out and said it. She's not the pushover fandom makes her out to be.

Elizabeth could not get Jane’s words out of her head. She heard the reproach in them. It was Jane, so it was a gentle reproach, but it was there still, and Elizabeth took it seriously. Honestly, Jane is such a better person than I am, because I would've given Elizabeth a little shake YEARS ago. She had been ashamed of herself before, but this brought it back afresh. If even Jane could acknowledge that Elizabeth had been prejudiced...

“I never thought Mr. Darcy so deficient in the appearance of it as you used to do.”

How much more would Elizabeth have liked Darcy if he had flattered her in the way Wickham had? She did not know that she would have been particularly fond of him - he was still so reserved and haughty - but she almost certainly would not have disliked him so much.

Well, she thought wryly, look at how flattered I am by his proposing, without even liking him at all! Of course I would have overlooked many things, had he admired me more openly. Mary plants the difference between vanity and pride early on, then Elizabeth comes out and explicitly scolds herself for her vanity, and yet some people still don't recognize the way P&P condemns Elizabeth's behavior AT LEAST as much as it does Darcy's. The fact that she also has to learn and grow is what makes her interesting and one of literature's very best heroines-- and it's why the relationship between E&D is Austen's most popular.

She had not realized before the strength of her own vanity, and how easily she could be worked on by those willing to exploit it. She had not realized how quickly she could be deceived by outwardly charming appearances.

None of these realizations made her feel any more comfortable.

Hadn’t she been just as silly as Kitty and Lydia, in her own way? Hadn’t she made just as much of a fool of herself?

I have been worse. Kitty and Lydia have only made spectacles of themselves. I have been gleefully abusing a man, across several counties, to anyone who would listen. And why? Because I was offended one time at a ball and let myself become unreasonable.

She got out of bed, no longer able to lie still with her own shame and embarrassment. She paced up and down the room, her face burning, her stomach sour with guilt. She had certainly been unjust to him. No matter how much she disliked him, he hadn’t deserved half of what she had said to and about him.

She would probably never meet him again, there were no real amends that she could make, but she had to learn from this. She could not repeat this mistake again. I just love the parallels. Neither Elizabeth nor Darcy changes FOR the other; they don't expect to see each other again. Instead, they each see their faults clearly after making disastrous mistakes and change FOR THEIR OWN BETTERMENT, using what they learned from the other as their motivation. And they find each other in the end and live happily ever after because it's Austen, and the mutual improvement is poignant because it's a novel, but let's give them both credit where it is due-- they each took the initiative to change their behavior because it was the right thing to do, NOT because they were trying to win the other's approval and/or affection. Which is so much better.

***

Georgiana had been looking at him warily all evening.

“Is something wrong, Fitzwilliam?” she asked timidly.

He had been staring out at the room without taking it in.

“No,” he said, forcing himself back into the present. “Nothing is wrong.”

“You seem… displeased.”

“Not at all.” He tried to smile at her. “Do not fret on my account.”

She seemed unconvinced but said nothing for several minutes. Darcy returned to his own disagreeable thoughts.

“Are you upset with me?” she asked finally. “Is this about… are you thinking of Ramsgate?”

“No!” Darcy all but yelped. Georgiana stared. “No,” he said more calmly. “I am not upset with you, and I am certainly not thinking about Ramsgate. I have told you that you are not to blame for any of that.”

Georgiana looked close to tears now. Darcy went to her and took her hand.

“I am upset with myself, for something entirely unrelated. I have been--” he hesitated. “It does not matter now. You have done nothing wrong. Do not worry yourself over my ill humor.”

She smiled, a little tremulously, and went off to bed.

He would need to keep an eye on Georgiana. She was still plainly suffering from the events of last summer. We don't talk enough about how fresh Ramsgate is at the beginning of P&P and how that might be contributing to Darcy's Darcyness when he gets to Hertfordshire. There were still very few glimpses of the girl she had been before Ramsgate. The thought left him both angry and grieved. How much George Wickham had destroyed! He ruined everything he came in contact with. He had traumatized Georgiana, slandered Darcy, and poisoned Elizabeth Bennet against him.

Wickham did not make me say what I did about her family. He did not make me insult her. He did not separate her sister from Bingley.

Wickham had certainly not helped, but Darcy had made quite a big enough mess on his own.

He buried his face in his hands, frustrated and humiliated. Why couldn’t he be warmer with people? Less haughty and supercilious? Make more of an effort with those outside of his own set? No matter how ridiculous Elizabeth Bennet’s family was (and they were ridiculous), he should have been just as considerate to them as he was to his friends, and servants, and tenants. He had his own ridiculous relations. Their higher rank did not make them any less so. And now seems like the time to take a stand on Shy!Darcy! He's not shy. He's never given any indication of shyness, no matter how certain actors have played him. He's reserved. He doesn't know how to relate to people who aren't in his class and circle and doesn't make an effort to try. He's not a natural people person, and while he's not always socially comfortable, he's not shy. Georgiana is shy. There is a difference, and Austen makes that difference quite clear in the book.

He should not have spoken to her the way that he had. He had been insulting, unfeeling, offensive, and to a woman he professed to love! He was horrified by his own conduct. No wonder she despised him.

There was very little chance of their ever seeing each other again, but he had taken her words to heart. She had shown him things about himself that needed to change, and he would change them. There was clearly no winning her now, and she would never get the chance to witness his improvement, but he would alter his behavior because of her. Because of her (and how she opened his eyes to his conduct), not for her. He owed her that much.

#hslw chapter commentary

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randomingoftherandomness · 2 years ago

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What about a ff about them https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJwEdD1B/ ?

Where Yuanzhi is the pretty but strong wife and looks down to his husband but little by little start to be fond of him and his gentleness

Anon, I want you to know that it is now four in the morning and I couldn’t stop thinking about this prompt 👍🏼 Good job

Tags: Hua gongzi x Gong Yuanzhi, Fluff, Arranged Marriage, Developing Relationship, Falling in Love

—

Yuanzhi marries Hua gongzi with heaviness in his chest and the burn of duty gripping at his throat. All he chooses to remember about his wedding ceremony is the look on Gege’s face as he veils him and the surprisingly calloused hand that takes his when they move to the Hall of Elders to give their respects.

The hand in his had been the one thing that kept his mind shackled to the reality of his situation.

Hua gongzi, when they finally had a moment alone together, had been gentle; carefully helping him out of his heavy wedding dress, attentively tending to his needs even as Yuanzhi mulishly refuses to speak a word to him.

“I won’t hurt you.”

That had given him pause even as he distrustfully glares at the man. Sensing it, Hua gongzi had smiled, bright and sunny as if unaffected by Yuanzhi’s dark mood.

“I’ll sleep on the daybed once we’ve exchanged our wedding wines,” He promises. And keeps to it.

Yuanzhi would know. He stayed up the whole night with a hand to the knife he keeps under his pillow.

Life as the wife to Hua gongzi starts like this.

There isn’t a need for him to manage the household seeing as he’s, well, a malewife Hua laoye betrothed his son to in exchange for the backing and the prestige of Gege’s name being linked to the Hua family. So, he spends his days either in his rooms or in the courtyard that he shares with his husband.

And Hua gongzi keeps to his promise to not hurt him. In fact, the fool with his softer disposition is anything but the image Yuanzhi had built up of him in his head.

He’s kind and gentle, considerate of others. It isn’t long before Yuanzhi figures out how much the servants and maids of their courtyard clearly care for their young master. There’s a deep, unwavering sense of morals in his dealings with others.

He’s an honourable man, Yuanzhi finds himself thinking when they have their shared meals. If anything, no matter how sharp Yuanzhi’s words are or how much his attitude toes on the line of disrespect and discontent, it doesn’t faze his husband one bit.

Yuanzhi’s gone and broken a gadget Hua gongzi spent a month on? Oh, that’s no matter! In fact, the broken parts actually work better when put back together.

Yuanzhi’s claimed a room in the residence to fashion into a laboratory without asking? Fantastic! Hua gongzi has his servants go out and buy up all the equipment and every ingredient for Yuanzhi’s personal stores.

All through this, his smile never fazes.

And as a river can change its course after a period of time, so can human emotions. The muscle that beats in Yuanzhi’s chest isn’t immune and he is human after all.

Their shared meals start to feel less like a burden and more like parts of the day he looks forward to. He allows himself to be openly interested in the little whizzbangs Hua gongzi makes, going so far as to willingly spend time with his husband in the workshop and allowing him space in his laboratory.

It becomes easier to accept the warmth and the regard he is given.

It becomes simpler to give his own in return.

So, when he finally plucks up the resolve to ask if his husband would accompany him to the market, he thinks his heart swells twice its size in the face of the smile he receives and the quiet and shy whisper of, “I would like that.”

Love isn’t immediate. Yuanzhi thinks it’ll be awhile before he feels anything of the sort. But he’s fond. Fond of the little rhythm they’ve built in their life together. Fond of how Hua gongzi lets him set the pace, content to be half a step beside him.

It’s undeniable fondness that guides him to take his husband’s hand one night as they’re readying for their separate beds and guide him to his own.

Fondness still, when Hua gongzi kisses him chastely on the cheek only for Yuanzhi to gently remind him, “That’s not how you kiss your wife.”

It’s still not love when they consummate their marriage. Not love when Hua gongzi takes to sleeping in Yuanzhi’s bed every night after, not yet that.

But he knows he will get there. His heart tells him so.

#my journey to you fic #Hua gongzi #gong yuanzhi #hua gongzi x gong yuanzhi #gab writes stuff #THIS FIC IS MAKING ME JNCONTROLLABLY SAPPY AT FOUR IN THE MORNING

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lovecharged · 2 years ago

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the exposure of her tattoos has him swallowing in a breath, hand raising to stroke along both, smile gentle and fond and full of a joy that he only ever sincerely, openly and entirely felt whenever he'd been around tammy. he felt half-dead whenever they were apart, and her marrying their friend was something that had tore him apart, but he'd never once allowed her to become privy to that information. he'd be damned if he ever let he feel a single of atom of guilt for following her heart. "they look good," he whispers, breathing her in, lashes fluttering as their foreheads meet. now he needed to get them, that perfectly sweet reminder that whatever happened, they'd be so uniquely connected. they'd have their thing, that nobody else ever would have. "the sun and the moon are exactly where they're supposed to be huh?" he whispers, nudging their noses together sweetly; as dull nails stroke along her arms, eyes closing, focusing on this moment between them now.

her breath hitches as she listens to nathan speak. her heart races and she can't even think straight. hearing him say those words always makes her feel like her mind is cloudy and nathan is the only one who can clear it all up. tammy drags up the sleeves of her jumper, reaching for his hands to press them against the tattoos inked into her forearms. on her right, an outline of the moon. on her left, an outline of the sun. "the moon never has to miss the sun now," she whispers, leaning up to rest their foreheads together. she had got these tattoos for nathan, to remind herself that no matter how much physical distance there was between them, he was always in her heart.

#speaks: nathan jackson.#feat: nathan & tammy.#tkachukmatthew #flashback thread: nathan jackson.#im in awe x

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amimimi · 4 years ago

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it’s so brand new, babe; kyan reki

request: “I was wondering if you could do like a one shot/drabble of reki and his s/o first? like it’s all soft and fluffy and awkward.”

pairings: reki x fem!reader

warnings: 18 +, smut, swearing, unprotected sex, reader and reki are first years in college!

word count: 5.0k +

notes: THIS WAS SO MFIN LONG. the title is from “our first time” by bruno mfin mars. i literally saw this ask and had to lie down for like an hour because my brain was going “-@$;);/&9”. i apologize in advance for any spelling/grammatical errors!

“oh my god—reki, hold still!” you chide for the fifth time as reki flinches as though you’ve punched him.

“you’re literally pulling hair off my face? how can i hold still?” reki cries indignantly, rubbing his left eyebrow and holding up your lavender hand mirror to examine the damage. “is this gonna bruise?”

“i’m only plucking your eyebrow hair...how would that bruise?”

you and reki were having your usual friday movie nights. usually, you’d have it at reki’s place considering his sisters demanded to join you both to watch disney movies. but you both had switched up for tonight. your parents were on vacation for the weekend so you two had the place to yourselves for the next day and a half.

you were straddling reki’s lap while he relaxed against a cushion chair. every now and then you would raise yourself up on your knees to make sure you were plucking at the right angle.

you watched as reki frowned at his reflection in the hand mirror, gently raising his fingers to his brows.

“why is the skin red then?” reki questioned, bringing the mirror even closer to his face.

“because you keep moving and I keep accidentally pinching you” you reply, trying to loosen reki’s grip on the mirror and put it to the side. “lemme finish up!”

reki hesitates, but places the mirror down beside him. “i’m trusting you, y/n...”

you grin and lean down to kiss reki’s nose. “i know and i appreciate you for that” you say allowing your hand that isn’t holding the tweezers to lift reki’s chin up. his eyes twinkle up at you as you lean in again to lightly kiss him on the lips this time. reki tilts his head back, allowing you more access and you give a pleased hum against his mouth. at one point, you drop the tweezers to the floor and drape your arm over reki’s neck to brace yourself. eagerly, reki sits up straighter to appease you. he’s always likes how easily you both slipped in and out of physical affection—sure it flustered him to know end but he loved it so much.

your kissing is getting sloppier by the second and you both are now openly moaning into each other’s mouths. reki just barely places his hands on your waist before loud, discordant chords blare from the horror movie you had been watching, followed by an equally loud screech. reki jolts with a gasp, almost throwing you off his lap.

“holy fuck!” he wheezes, shutting his eyes bringing his palm up to his forehead. your heart is still hammering in your chest, but you can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of your chest. reki opens his eyes to weakly glare up at you.

“you jumped so hard” you bring the back of your hand up to your mouth to stifle your giggles.

reki slightly thrusts one of his legs up from under you in retaliation, earning a squeak from you as your balance was momentarily thrown off. he chuckles as you lightly slap his chest with a pout.

you turn your torso around to grab the remote on the coffee table and turn the volume down. with the movie now barely audible, you turn back around to reki and set the remote down.

“don’t want my baby getting scared again” you coo teasingly, wrapping your arms around reki’s neck and pursing your lips out at him.

“shut up” reki warns you, but holds no heat to his words. not when he’s grinning up at you so sweetly with his hands gently placed on your waist—as if you were the most precious being in the world to him. he notes that you’re wearing one of his t-shirts, yellow with a gear depicted in the middle. it’s slightly oversized on him, so you’re practically swimming in it, the sleeves stopping right above your elbows.

reki loves you, he knows he does. but every now and then, you’ll say or do something—even as simple as shooting him a look and he’s gripped with an overwhelming sense of fondness that surprises even him. and right now, seeing you in his shirt, straddling his lap, smiling at him like it was the only thing you knew —he feels that same sense of fondness urgently clench in his stomach.

“come here”, reki half begs pushing his head forward, his voice slightly cracking. he wants you to do something about the fondness—the adoration that expands in his chest, threatening to steal his breath. he needs you to kiss him—to do something.

you slowly inch your face forward until your lips ghosts one another. when you both kiss again, it’s a lot more gentle and slow. you pull back, breathing slightly hard, to kiss the right side of his brow bone, then his temple. reki let’s his head tilt back gently, struggling to control his breathing as you litter kisses down to his neck. he runs his hands up and down your waist repeatedly, in an attempt to conceal the way his hands are shaking.

suddenly, he feels you place a soft kiss on the part of his neck just beneath his earlobe and he can’t help the harsh gasp that flies from his mouth. his hips automatically buck up into yours, causing you to give a stunned moan right into reki’s ear.

shakily, you stop kissing reki’s neck as you opt to bury your face into his shoulder, gasping back another moan, very much aware of reki’s semi hard on pressing against the inside of your thigh.

reki isn’t fairing much better.

his eyes are squeezed shut as he bites the back of his hand, breathing harshly through his nose. you both struggle to gather yourselves while reki repeatedly apologizes.

“m’sorry, i didn’t—i didn’t mean to do that, i’m sorry” reki’s very much aware of how small and shaky his voice sounds. he feels you slightly shaking against him, so he wraps his arms around you, one hand rubbing up and down your back. “didn’t mean that, i’m sorry, angel”

dazed, you pull your head up from reki’s shoulder to gaze at him. his cheeks are flushed, as he slightly pants through his mouth. he’s looking at you apologetically, puppy dog eyes and all. you realize then that reki is equally affected by you as you are by him. you can’t take your eyes off of his lips, wet and pink from kissing you. you start to feel feverish, every inch of your skin tingling with desire.

“i—” you pause, fidgeting under his gaze. even in the throes of desire, you still find it in you to be slightly embarrassed about what you want to say next. reki sees your hesitance because he sits up even straighter, furrowing his brow as he rubs his hands along the side of your arms.

“baby, what’s wrong?” reki gently questions and you can’t miss the concern in his voice.

steeling yourself, you place both of your hands on reki’s chest. “reki, i wanna go all the way” you declare, before quickly glancing up at him to meet his wide eyes. “with you, that is—only if you’re comfortable!”

reki is frozen, looking at you like a deer in headlights. he doesn’t know why he’s so stunned. you both have been dating for a while now, and you both had been sexually intimate before so why is his brain malfunctioning. and it’s not like he hasn’t thought of having sex with you, he has—a lot. he just never made a move in fear of pushing you or making you uncomfortable.

reki continues to blink at you and you rush to backtrack.

“it doesn’t have to be tonight—or even this year! it’s whenever you’re ready, baby” your hands travel up to cup reki’s face, who still can’t find it in him form any words. “i just wanted to let you know that i want you—in every way possible.”

“i-i want you too” reki manages, still looking at you like a deer in headlights. he notes that his throat is startling dry before he swallows. “i want you like that too”

“you do?” you ask him and he can’t, for the life of him, figure out why you sound so surprised.

“yeah”, reki croaks, his shock wearing off only to be replaced by embarrassment. his ears are burning and he knows he’s blushing straight down to his chest. “i have for a while...”

“oh” you breathe, your hands still cupping his face. the both of you stare at each other a little more, before you break the silence. “your face feels warm”

“you just asked to have sex with me, what did you expect?” he murmurs, trying to look anywhere but at you. you feel your face slightly heat up at his words, but you giggle and rub your thumbs across his cheeks.

“why are you surprised? have you seen how you look?” you grin at him and reki sighs, covering his face with one hand. “i’m also, you know, very much in love with you, so there’s that”

“why are you bent on embarrassing me?” he groans, while you try to remove his hand from off his face.

“why can’t you take a compliment?” you ask back. reki drops his hand from his face, his eyes narrowed at you. paying no mind, you lean forward and pepper his face with kisses.

“do wanna—go to your room then?” reki’s breath catches in his throat, as you continue to kiss his face. you pull back, staring at him cautiously.

“do you want that? i mean, to have sex?” you question, not breaking eye contact with him. “like, right now?”

“yes” he breathes, even though his hands are shaking as he grips your waist. he let’s his forehead rest against yours, maintaining eye contact with you.

“are you sure?” you whisper, brushing your nose against his. he moves to press his lips against yours.

“i’ve never been this sure in my life” he murmurs against your lips and you shiver in response. cautiously, he wraps his arms around your lower back and hoists you up, standing to his feet. gasping slightly, you wrap your legs around his waist and tighten your grasp on his shoulders.

reki carries you over to the base of the stairwell before giving you a nervous smile and a quick smooch. you grab at the tuft of hair at the base of his neck and watch him concentrate on walking up your staircase whilst carrying you. his eyes fixed downward making sure he doesn’t miss a step and want to coo at how cute he looks right now. but also, you’re mentally swooning at how steady he’s carrying you up the stairs, his arms not faltering even once.

“mmm, so strong” you murmur and kiss his cheek. “very strong, indeed”

reki glances up and shoots you a look of fond exasperation before he nearly trips up a step, one hand grasping for the rail as he falters. you both squeak, as you tighten you’re grasp around his neck and he squeezes his arm around your waist.

“y-you’re distracting me!” reki fusses, taking a moment to regain his balance before letting his hand drop from the railing and placing it around your waist. “i almost dropped you...”

“sorry” you reply, burying your face in his shoulder so he won’t see that your smiling.

reki finishes his ascent the stairwell and walks down the hall to your bedroom. his heart hammers in his chest as he quickly fumbles with the door knob, because wow, this is really happening. pushing his way into your room, reki kisses you softly before gently laying you down on your bed, settling over you before he leans down to kiss you again. you wrap your arms around his neck in an attempt to bring him closer, moaning wantonly into his mouth. reki pulls back and grins, but you only begin kissing up his neck

"a little impatient, huh?" he gently teases, reveling in the fact that in this moment, he slightly has the upper hand. your lips still pressed against reki's neck, you scoff through your nose and rut your hips against his pelvis, eliciting a strangled cry from reki.

reki squeezes his eyes shut, bowing his head beside your neck. "fuck" he pants, trying to breathe through a head rush as you giggle. his cheek is pressed against the side of your neck, taking in how feverish your skin feels.

when he feels less dizzy, he turns his head to the side and softly kisses your neck. "how do you want to do this, baby?" reki whispers between kisses. something about hearing him say that with his breath fanning against your ear makes you want to cry.

you arch your back, so that your chest is flushed against his, your thighs slightly rubbing together for some kind of friction. "i, uh--" you pause, trying to form a coherent sentence with the one braincell that isn't painting mental images of reki's face screwed up in pleasure, or his voice cracking with desire, or his hiccuping moans--

"maybe, use your fingers first" you sigh airily. reki sits up, supporting his weight on both his elbows and looking down at you. his eyes are practically glowing, glittering as they reflect the lamp from your bedside. he's gazing at you so softly with his brows slightly furrowed, you almost sob.

"you gotta show me" reki murmurs, reaching down to take one of your hands in his and interlocking his fingers with yours. he brings the back of your palms up to his lips before giving your hand a quick squeeze. "i wanna do it right"

you and reki have definitely been sexually intimate before--you initiating most of the time. he's maybe fingered you once or twice and he did surprisingly well.

"you do do it right" you tell him, smoothing his bangs back from his forehead and he gulps, shaking his head slightly.

"i want to do it right-right, like--" he hesitates, wondering how explicit he should be before squeezing your hand again. "i want to do it right so i don't hurt you later..."

"oh" your prop yourself up on your elbows, resting your back higher up against your pillows before smiling up at reki. "alright, come here"

reki crawls up beside you, until your faces are both leveled. you both peer at each other through heavy lidded eyes.

"hi" you whisper, your face almost hurting with how hard you're smiling.

"hey" reki breathes, grinning oh so prettily back at you. he pushes himself up on one elbow, gently placing his other hand on your inner thigh. his hand on your thigh trembles and you place your hand over his in an attempt to soothe his nerves. you nuzzle your face closer to his and kiss him, pulling back to press your nose against his.

"we don't have to do this, sweetheart" you tell him, gazing at him intently to let him know that you mean what you're saying. "i want you to be comfortable"

reki kisses your forehead, before shifting back to press his nose against yours. "i'm feel the most comfortable when i'm with you, y/n" he says sincerely, and you slightly melt forward into his face. "and i wanna do this, i just—i don't wanna disappoint you"

"you won't, baby" you smile and reki feels his heart squeeze at you blinking up at him so cutely. "we're just, figuring it out. we got all weekend"

reki takes a shaky breath before smiling down at you, feeling reassured. "besides, i'll literally be turned on by whatever you do. i get wet watching you do a railslide—no joke" you grin sweetly up at reki, despite the explicit nature of your words. reki opens his mouth like he wants to respond, but he just shuts his mouth and shakes his head at you. "don't shake your head at me, i see you blushing!"

reki, who is in fact blushing, shakes his head again and giggles. "i don't know what i'm gonna do with you..." he pinches the inside of your thigh, causing you to squeal. you squeeze your hand over his and direct his hand higher up your thigh.

“i can think of one or two things” you murmur, guiding his hand over your clothed sex. reki’s eyes widened at how soaked the cotton fabric of your panties are. he’s whimpering slightly when you urge his fingers to push your panties to the side. you arch your back, inhaling shakily, as reki’s fingers brush against your folds, collecting your essence along his fingertips.

“fuck—” reki moans, his head spinning from how good you feel against his fingers. he can’t help when his mind replicates the sensation of how warm and wet you feel around his cock. “fuck”

hearing reki like that only spurred you even further, your pussy clenching around nothing. “wait, wait—” you gasp, your hand dropping from reki’s. reki pulls his hand back like he’s been burned, peering up at you anxiously.

before he could ask if you were okay, you pull the shirt your wearing (his shirt, reki notes) up to your stomach before harshly tugging down your panties down your legs. reki watches, slightly amused at how hurried and frazzled you seem, as you tug your panties off and toss them towards the far end of your bed.

“you okay?” he asks, slightly smiling as you lay back down, wiggling around to get comfortable beside him. you nod, breathing a little fast, gazing up at him.

“i just wanted to feel you a bit better” you sigh, leaning up to give him a sloppy kiss.

“can i take my shirt off?” he asks, sounding a little shy.

“please” you groan, tugging at the hem of his shirt with one hand. he giggles and you can’t help but laugh with him, your desire mixing with adoration at the sound of his giggle. you both tug his t-shirt off, leaving him in just his basketball shorts. smiling, reki repositions himself alongside you, placing his hand on your thigh.

you guide his hand back over your wetness before reki stills. “wait” he says, gripping your hand. you look up at him, heart dropping when you see how solemn he looks. “your plushies”

you blink up at reki, wondering if you heard him correctly. “my what?”

“your plushies.” he repeats, with a lot more emphasis, still looking very serious.

“w-what about them?” you asked, properly confused and frantic from the loss of reki’s touch.

“they can’t watch us!” reki finishes urgently, glancing up at the row of sanrio and dolphin plushies by your head. reki looks back down at you to find that you’re staring up at him, unimpressed, and he presses his lips shut before bursting into giggles. you flinch when you feel drops of reki’s spit hit your face.

“you spit on my face!” you moan, tugging your cinnamoroll plushie from beside your pillow and throwing it to the carpeted ground.

“oh my god, y/n—don’t throw them!” he gasps between laughs. “lemme put them at the end of the bed...faced away, of course!”

reki sits up and scoops the remainder of your plushies, aligning them at the end of your bed. you prop yourself up on your elbows, watching him with a frown. he’s so annoying—wait, fuck, when did his back get so toned?

“i can’t tell if you’re doing this to me on purpose or if you actually are concerned about the welfare of my plushies” you say, transfixed by how toned his back is. there are scars littered from previous beefs and a little birthmark under his left shoulder.

he turns back to you, shooting you lofty grin before crawling back over to you. “a little bit of both” he replies, positioning himself alongside you as he supports himself up on one elbow. he tilts his head to the side, still giving a shit eating grin.

“my plushies have seen me masturbate before, they’ll live” you roll your eyes, laying your head back on your pillow. reki’s mouth drops, looking sincerely shocked and you almost want to laugh.

“that is...so wrong” reki whispers, looking genuinely horrified.

“yeah, i know, i know” you rush, looking up at him pleadingly. “can you please fuck me, now?”

reki hears the urgency in your voice and places his hand back along your inner thigh. “okay, baby, okay” he murmurs as you catch his lips in a desperate kiss. you slightly hitch your shirt up, revealing your naked pussy and reki practically vibrates at the sight of it. it’s glistening with your essence, swollen and so fucking pretty. reki has never really seen you nude like that, the few times that he has fingered you he was too shy to fully look. but now, he gets to take your pussy in, in all it’s glory and fuck, does it go straight to his dick.

“do you still want me to guide you, baby? i don’t mind” you ask, peering up at him through your eye lashes. he looks back over to you and kisses you on your open mouth. he pulls back, a string of saliva connected to both your lips and you clench around nothing at the sight of it, your hips rutting up.

maybe it was seeing your pussy, completely naked and glistening, but reki felt himself getting slightly nervous again. “k-kinda? i like feeling your hand on mine” he whispers sheepishly. you grin up at him, snaking your arm closest to him around his neck.

“awww, baby. you like me holding your hand?” you coo up at him and he can’t help but grin, cheeks flushed despite himself.

“should i get up and move your plushies to the closet?” he threatens teasingly and you whimper, placing the hand that isn’t hooked around his neck, over his hand on your inner thigh. you guide his hand back up to your pussy and reki shudders when his fingers reconnect with your wetness.

you grip the back of his hand, while he gently slides his fingers up and down your folds. reki leans down to kiss you all alongside your jaw as you pant.

“you can—put a finger in now, reki” your breath catching on a moan, eyes squeezed shut.

“okay” he whispers, against your jaw. his fingers brush against the opening for a bit before he gently pushes his index finger in. you give a shaky sigh while reki groans as you clench around his finger. he rubs his finger upwards against the spongey part of your walls, letting his thumb brush against your clit—eliciting a low moan from you.

you let your hand travel from reki’s wrist up to his forearm and grip tightly. you’re half aware that you’re grinding against reki’s hand in an attempt to increase the friction. reki brings his head down, kissing the part of your collarbone that peeks out from his oversized shirt you’re wearing.

“another finger, reki, please” you moan as reki sucks a bruise on the right side of your collarbone. he obliges readily, sliding his middle finger inside your pussy, sighing dreamily at how easily you take it in. you tilt your head back, reeling at the feel of reki’s calloused fingers—so much thicker than yours, as he curls them and begins slowly pumping them in and out.

“is that okay?” he murmurs with his lips pressed against your collarbone. your chest is properly heaving now, the hand that isn’t hooked around reki’s neck grasping onto his bicep.

“yes, you’re doing so well, i love you so much” you whimper, feeling reki groan against your chest. he peels his head off of your collarbone to glance at your face to already see you staring up at him, eyes half-lidded and glossed over as you writhe under him. “ ‘want you, reki, i want you so bad”

at your words, reki whimpers as his body is racked with desire. “i know, baby, i want you too” he replies shakily, rutting against your thigh. his cock is straining painfully against the front of his briefs. “shit, you’re gonna wreck me, sweetheart”

“oh~” you moan so sweetly and reki leans down to press his mouth to yours, as if to swallow your moans. you’re tingling all over, brain turning to mush as all you can feel is the mounting pleasure between your legs. you can hear reki breathing harshly, moans clipping his breath now and again. you hear the lewd sound of reki quickly pumping his fingers in and out of your wetness. the feeling of his chest heaving against yours, and his cock, swollen and hard, against your thigh.

your lower stomach tightens harshly as you clench hard around reki’s fingers. “reki, i’m gonna cum” you warn, a frantic edge to your voice. you’re panting now, chest heaving wildly as you grind in time with reki’s hand. mind reeling, you tighten your grip around reki’s neck, trying to brace yourself as your oncoming orgasm threatens to knock the breath right out of you.

“it’s okay, baby, i got you” reki voice cracks, sliding his free hand under your back and pulling you closer to him. he presses a kiss against your forehead, before resting his forehead on top of yours. “i’m here, angel, go ahead”

you whine at his words, only managing to cry out reki’s name before giving a full bodied shudder as your orgasm crashes into you like a 18 wheeler truck. reki kisses you through it, moaning as he feels you gush around his fingers. you sob against his mouth, your body trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

reki pulls back to take you in. your hair is matted with sweat against your forehead, eyes glossy with lust, mouth slightly gaped open as you pant through the last of your orgasm.

“you’re the most beautiful person in the whole world” he smiles down at you, kissing your eyelid and slightly giggling when he feels your eyelash flutter against his lips. “i’m so fucking lucky, i can’t believe i get to be your boyfriend”

“don’t say that...” you gasp, hips twitching as reki slightly curls and uncurls his fingers inside of you. “don’t say that because i’ll literally have your baby—don’t”

reki’s giggles, nose scrunched up and his eyes glittering. you reach up and gently pinch his nose, earning another round of laughter. he gently slides his fingers out of you, marveling at the string of cum that connects from his fingers to your heat. his cock throbs at the sight, and he’s suddenly reminded of his painful erection.

reki realizes you must’ve noticed too, because you hook your fingers under the band of his basketball shorts. “can i take your pants off, baby?” you murmur, sitting up against your pillows. reki audibly gulps, before nodding, giving you permission.

you tug his basketball shorts down his hips, to reveal the outline of reki’s cock, strained against the fabric of his briefs. the front of his briefs are darkened with pre-cum. you press your palm against reki’s clothed sex and an airy moan escapes from reki’s lips.

you palm him though his underwear for a couple of seconds before you look back up to him. “can i take your underwear off?” you ask gently, feeling as reki begins to shake against you again—nerves or arousal, you weren’t sure.

“please” he begs weakly and you oblige, hooking your fingers under his waistband and shimmying his underwear down his hip. his cock springs up against his toned stomach and you feel yourself getting wet again at the sight of it. the head is darkened, red and glistening with pre-cum. he’s a little more on the longer side, average girth and prominent veins.

you gently wrap your hand around reki’s cock and reki all but chokes, shifting himself over you. he barely manages to support his own weight in his elbows, harshly trembling. “you okay?” you ask, slowly pumping your hand up and down his shaft. your eyes flash up to watch reki’s face. his eyes are closed and his mouth hangs open as he winces in pleasure.

reki nods, giving a choked “yeah” before bowing his head as you continue to pump at his dick.

“it’s so cute” you coo, squeezing tighter around reki’s shaft. reki bucks into your hand, a whine forming from his chest.

“please don’t tease me right now, y/n” he begs, sounding near tears. he’s sweating with how worked up he’s getting.

“i’m not, baby” you murmur, increasing the speed at which you pump reki’s dick. a shaky moan warbles from his lips and he presses his forehead against your collarbone. “i mean it, you’re perfect—every inch of you”

reki continues to make the most prettiest sounds as he hovers over you. the anticipation of having sex with you incites a round of full bodied shudders and he slightly sinks his teeth into your collarbone.

“i-i don’t think i’ll last long, angel” he whines, sounding thoroughly apologetic as he ruts against your palm.

you turn you head to kiss reki’s temple. “s’okay, reki” you tell him honestly, loosening your grip around reki’s member.

reki sits up on his knees to fully remove his shorts and underwear. he shimmies them off hurriedly and places them on the edge of the bed. “how do wanna do this?” he asks shyly. “i read it’s easier for you if we do it with me on top”

you giggle, sinking further down into your pillows. “my studious boyfriend” you sigh, reaching your arms out for him. reki shoots you an unimpressed look, but still crawls into your arms like a cat caught in the rain.

“s-shut up!” he says, but it doesn’t sound too convincing. especially when you grab his member and run it along your folds to collect some of your wetness. reki’s head spins at the feel of you, letting out a low groan and bracing himself on his elbows yet again.

“you ready?” you ask beneath him, directing his dick just over your entrance. reki starts shaking again, but he manages a frantic nod.

“yes, yes please” he squeaks. you take a deep breath and insert the head of reki’s cock into your heat, eliciting groans from the both of you. with your guidance reki slowly slides in, shaking above you at how tight you feel while you wrap your arms around reki’s neck and moan.

by the time reki bottoms out, you’re both trembling and whining in each other’s grasp. reki peers down at you to see your eyes squeezed shut, your lips forming a perfect “o”. the way your face scrunches up as he feels your walls, wet and warm and tight, clench around him as you adjust to his girth almost makes him cum right then and there.

at one point, you wiggle your hips to try and accommodate reki’s cock and a jolt travels straight up his spine. feeling his balls tighten, he groans and hangs his head. he’s not gonna cum. he’s not gonna cum. he’s not gonna-

“reki?” you whisper, gently rubbing his shoulders, concerned about how quiet he’s been. the sound of your voice almost makes him cry. “baby, are you okay?”

“give me a second, p-please don’t talk” he wheezes, sounding apologetic as he desperately tries to gather himself. he takes controlled breaths, counting down back from 100.

reki’s around 54, when he finally opens his eyes to see you peering up at him, concern evident in your face. he’s still shaking, but he’s sure he won’t cum right then and there.

“sorry, i was close just then...” he mumbles, face burning even brighter if that was possible. you smile softly up at him and bring him down for a kiss. gently, you thrust your hips upwards and reki chokes, fisting the bed sheets.

“you can move, darling” you tell him, breathing heavily as your pussy continues to flutter around reki’s cock. he feels so good, so good. and every so often, you can feel him twitch inside you and it makes you want to flip him over and ride him into tomorrow.

reki is looking down at you apprehensively as he chews his bottom lip, whines catching in his throat. “i won’t hurt you, right?” he asks weakly, as you rub your hands up and down his back.

“no, just go gently for now” you assure him, your hips slightly bucking up into him. “mm—you feel so good”

reki knows he isn’t gonna last long—he knows that. just from the couple minutes of you adjusting around him and wiggling your hips to accommodate him already has him panting like he’s sprinting laps.

nevertheless, reki slowly pulls his dick out and pushes it back, his eyes watching your face for any signs of discomfort. you melt into the mattress, shutting your eyes as you shakily sigh. reki shakes his hand under your oversized shirt and places it on your waist as he continues to languidly thrust into you.

he leans his head down to kiss you, sloppy and wet. “y/n” he groans at the way you clench around him as his pace slightly quickens. “i-i love you, so much”

you whine, hooking your legs around his waist and tightening your grasp around his neck as he continues to thrust into you. the way his head drags against the spongy part of you pussy, has your toes curling and you rut your hips up to meet his.

you open your eyes to see reki, lips wet and eyes teary, gasping over you, face flushed, and eyebrows furrowed. reki, your boyfriend, your high school sweetheart, your baby. reki, who smile tiredly as he walks you home after his late shift, who is pretty good at karaoke but convinces you otherwise, who kisses you like you’re the most precious being, who makes it his personal mission to make you feel safe. reki, your reki.

“you take such good care of me, reki, you’re such a good boyfriend” you whine out and reki sobs, hips beginning to falter. “i love you, baby”

reki’s lower stomach and thighs tighten as his orgasm rapidly approaches. drool begins to pool in his mouth as he pants harshly, moans catching in his throat. the sound of skin slapping and both of your moans floats in your bedroom.

“i’m gonna cum” he gasps, slightly unnerved by how rapidly he seems to lose control. his vision is beginning to go white around the edges and his arms shake uncontrollably. “y/n”

“s’okay, baby” you murmur, as reki begins thrusting erratically. you kiss his shoulder before settling back against your pillows. “s’okay, reki, go ahead”

“i’m sorry” reki whines as he pull his cock out, pumping it only twice before he cums on your upper thigh. the groan that tumbles out of his mouth sounds so heavenly, that you sigh dreamily as he collapses against you, shuddering in the aftermath of his orgasm.

you wrap your arms around reki as he rests the side of his face against your chest, still panting like he’s ran a marathon. “you okay, baby?” you murmur into his hair, rubbing your hand alongside his arm. reki only gives a small whimper, his eyes half-shut and he still trembles on top of you. you feel something wet pool at your chest and you look to realize reki is drooling. “baby, you’re drooling”

“s’my shirt, let me drool” he murmurs and your chest jumps with laughter. reki wraps his arms around your torso and nuzzles his face into your chest. “thank you, i love you”

you smooth the hair plastered to his forehead back as he begins to drifts off into sleep. you purse your lips when you realized you were gonna have to wake him up in a bit to go pee. but for now, you could enjoy the afterglow, warm in each other’s embrace.

“i love you too” you whisper into his hair, thinking he had fallen asleep until he shifted to kiss your neck. it grew silent for a bit, until you spoke up. “what if we make it a tradition to dap after we have sex?”

reki is still for a bit, and you think that maybe he actually did fall asleep. suddenly, he shifts up and bites you at the base of you neck, eliciting a shriek from you.

“shut. the. fuck. up” reki mutters into the crook of your neck as you dissolve into a fit of giggles. he begins to laugh too, tightening his grip around your torso.

notes: this...was so long...i'm sorry.

#sk8 the infinity x reader #reki x reader #reki kyan x reader #reki smut #minors dni #sk8 the infinity x y/n #sk8 the infinity smut #smut

1K notes · View notes

wrathandgreed · 5 years ago

Text

A crafty MC making goodbye gifts for the demon bros (unromanced and romanced).

Word count: 3.5k

Notes: I’m a huge crafter (knitter, crocheter, spinner, weaver, cross stitcher, etc) and I’m currently knitting my husband a winter hat, so I started trying to figure out what a crafty MC would make the brothers as goodbye gifts when they go back to the human world.

Also, this got REALLY REALLY long.

Lucifer

(Unromanced)

This guy is hard to make stuff for.

His aesthetic is VERY tight and leaves no room for mistakes

So a simple winter scarf, in business-black, is probably the way to go.

Somewhat lux yarn, cashmere/silk or alpaca/silk, so it has a sheen

He travels to the human world sometimes, and Diavolo has winter themed events in Devildom sometimes, so a scarf isn’t totally impractical.

He would appreciate the amount of time you spent making it, even if he didn’t get a chance to wear it that often.

(Romanced)

Let’s get more personal, now. You still have the same problem with his aesthetic, and the fact that if you want to give him something ~~personal~~ he won’t be able to wear it openly. His pride says no.

He’s stern in public, but affectionate in private.

You knit a medium-sized decorative pillow cover for his bed, in his signature wine-red.

It’s simple and elegant and can sit on his bed like it’s something he picked up in a Hellhome Goods store, and only *he* knows it’s a private gift.

After swearing him to secrecy, you get Solomon to help you charm the pillow, so it never pills up or wears out, and it maintains your scent forever. (Actually, it’s fair to say you do this for all of the romanced gifts).

“I thought, you know, if I can’t be there with you every night, something of me can?”

Awkward MC is awkward.

He not only appreciates how much time went into the gift (who knows how busy you are better than Lucifer?) but that you spent that much time thinking about him.

Mr. Acts of Service over here. Every stitch is something you did *for him*

You assume he’ll just leave it on the bed, and maybe, if you’re lucky, it’ll help you be the last thing he thinks of at night and the first thing he thinks of in the morning.

Maybe he’ll smile when he sees it, and some of his weariness will lift.

Oh, if only you knew.

Mr. “Stern In Public” wraps himself around the pillow every night. Well. Every time he manages to sleep. Which, let’s face it, isn’t every night.

But when he DOES sleep, it’s with that pillow. If he can’t sleep wrapped around you, this will have to suffice.

Finds he doesn’t sleep well when he travels, because he refuses to bring the pillow with him.

If asked, he says it’s because it’s not important.

But he just doesn’t want to lose it.

It’s too important to him.

Mammon

(Unromanced)

You’ve seen this boy’s room.

You’re not spending hours and hours and tons of money making him something.

You love the guy, but you’ve seen how he takes care of his possessions.

Most of what he owns is chucked aside when the next new-shiny comes along.

You know he loves you to bits and he’ll be careful with whatever you give him.

But “careful” has a different definition for Mammon than for some of the others.

So you knit him a hat. A trendy, slightly-too-small hat in black with a small yellow stripe on the brim.

You can use some lux yarn because, for a single-skein project, investing in cashmere or mohair or something isn’t too awful.

It looks really great on him - the fluff of his white hair, the small yellow stripe, then the wash of black as contrast. It makes his eyes pop and his skin look even warmer.

He wears it to a shoot one day and the photographer loves it

Now everyone wants one

But he has the only one because it’s handmade

Suck it, losers!

The Avatar of Greed finally has something everyone else wants that no one else can get!

(Romanced)

Yeah, you’ve seen his room. You’ve practically lived in his room. But you know he’ll be careful with anything you give him because he loves you.

It would break his heart to have to ask you to fix something you made for him.

You know he’s going to suffer when you leave

You want him to know that you’re always there, even if you’re not *there*

So you knit him a sweater

A big, oversized sweater out of super soft chunky wool with tons of texture.

You finish it early so you can wear it around your room for a few weeks. On the rare nights you sleep alone, you sleep in it.

Again, get Solomon to enchant it.

Now it smells like you.

You wouldn’t notice, but a demon’s sense of smell is far stronger.

“I know it’s not, like, fashionable or anything. But it’s comfy and it can be…..a portable hug?”

His face turns red and he winds up stammering. Obviously. So he puts it on to avoid having to look at you.

Chucks it on over his tshirt. He immediately pulls the neckband back up over his face to take a deep inhale from the fabric.

He looks really cute in it

(He looks really cute in anything, let’s face it)

Might start crying.

Hug him pls.

Any night he feels lonely (which is most nights) he wears this sweater. Falls asleep in it half the time.

It really is like a hug, and the boy needs all the hugs he can get.

Leviathan

(Unromanced)

Out of all the brothers, Levi is the one who will appreciate STUFF. No matter what you make for him, he’ll love it.

It’s limited edition! No one else has anything like this!

So this boy is getting crocheted plushies.

(They’re called amigurumi, and he’ll appreciate knowing that)

You make a mobile for his room

Hanging from it are little plushies of all his favorite sea creatures

Henry 2.0 is the biggest

But there’s a few jellyfish

A whale

You had to completely invent a pattern for a kraken, and it came out okay!

You had some extra yarn, so you made a few extra jellyfish

They get suction cups.

Now he has jellyfish in his tanks and outside his tanks

Spends the next hour rigging up the mobile over his tub so he can see them before he goes to sleep and remember how much his true friend cares about him.

(Romanced)

This took….time to make.

You had to basically invent two patterns from scratch

There was a LOT of frogging.

And swearing.

When Levi opens the box and pulls aside the tissue paper, there’s two crocheted figures

One of each of you

(The one of you may or may not be dressed as Ruri-Chan)

“You made these…..for me?”

Tell him you made ONE of them for him. You take the one of him and hug it, “This one comes with me. So I’ve still got you.”

(Don’t let him cry!)

(Too late)

Then you show him the best part - each figure has a magnet in one hand.

When they get close to each other, the magnets snap together and the figures hold hands :)

Even though the two amigurumi will be in two separate realms, those magnets will want to find their partner.

Levi is floored - this is just like something out of an anime! Like two halves of a locket or something!

He can’t even find words. Possibly not for the next hour or two.

But he makes the cutest little squeaks and the verbal equivalent of keysmashes.

Like Lucifer, he sleeps with your gift. But he also carries it around his room. It has pride of place on his desk, and he purchases a stand so you can sit with him while he games or does his online schooling.

He talks to it like he would talk to you, especially on busy days when you can’t actually talk to him on the D.D.D.

It eases the feeling that you left Devildom and forgot about him. Eases - just a little - the jealousy of every human in your world who gets to talk to you. Because none of THEM have a handmade you. Just him.

Satan

(Unromanced)

This guy is either the easiest one to make for, or the hardest.

Like, you could make him a stuffed kitty. Or knit him a tie. But he’s not a super sentimental guy (unless romanced) and, in the end, that’s just stuff. His room is FULL of stuff.

Soooooo, you take out your sewing skills and sew him a traditional Sherlock hat - the deerstalker one, the one that never was actually in the books, but is still associated with the character.

The most straightforward of the brothers, Satan is indeed touched that you spent so long making something for him and he tells you so.

Insists he’ll wear it when solving mysteries.

You laugh, but he actually does wear the hat when reading mysteries now.

It reminds him of the trip to London - how he got to solve an actual mystery, save his brother, and see the sites with his friend.

(Romanced)

YouTube made it look so easy.

It’s just paper, right? Paper and thread and a needle. You can sew clothes and stuffed animals. How hard can it be to sew together pages to make a book?

Oh, my sweet summer child.

You considered actually pulping and making your own paper, but after the seventh ruined batch of signatures you’re grateful you talked yourself out of that one.

You also considered an actual leather binding, but go for boards and a more simple Japanese sewing technique.

This project is the perfect thing to give to Satan - not just because it’s a book, but because making it is causing you SO MUCH RAGE.

Who needs firewood when you have the ruined attempts of your gift?

You may have thrown various attempts on the floor and stomped on them before chucking them in the fire.

It takes weeks but you finally get the book together. Now the REAL work can begin.

Every book the two of you read together. Every book you discussed. Every book you recommended to him. Every single one gets a page - a title, a date, and a discussion of your discussion of the book.

The book itself becomes a tour through your growing relationship.

While not as stern as Lucifer in public, Satan is also definitely fond in private - he’s completely unsurprised to receive a book as a present, but once he begins leafing through it, the semi-smug smile vanishes.

He looks shocked, and his hold on the book gentles.

His fingers run down the page, tracing your handwriting on a page particularly precious to him.

Speechless for a few minutes, he finally returns with only “I love it.”

Said so softly and sincerely that you can’t doubt his sincerity.

There are blank pages at the end and he begins to use them to document newer books he’s reading - ones he wants to discuss with you later.

Asmodeus

(Unromanced)

Good luck keeping your gift a secret!

Asmo loves craft and crafty things, so he’s always curious about what you’re making and fascinated with the process.

Probably helps with suggestions for the others, especially for a romanced brother (although WHAT you see in them is beyond him, after all, what can THEY have that Asmo doesn’t?)

Because he seems to pop up out of nowhere, he’s already seen his gift a few times. Thankfully, he thinks you’re making it for yourself.

Bonus, he’s whiny and jealous about it, and obviously wants it for himself. So, score. You know he’ll like it.

It seems simple; a pair of fingerless gloves in his signature hot pink. But the yarn is mohair lace (you’ve cursed at it many, many times for tangling on you) held double with merino/silk black yarn.

The gloves are lacy and airy, sensual and soft. They feel wonderful to wear, and look great with a majority of his outfits.

He absolutely squeals and hugs you when he opens up the gift - the gift he was so jealous of! Of COURSE you were making it for him this whole time!

Wears them constantly. His Devilgram pics start having a lot of “what am I holding?” themes. Cups of coffee or hot chocolate. Someone else’s hand. A ticket for an absolutely fabulous play. And a LOT of peace signs and finger-hearts :)

(Romanced)

This one requires the cooperation - willing or not - of everyone in the house.

You start with your DDD. That’s easy enough.

Since you’ll need Sol’s help anyway, it’s easy enough to plunder the pictures on his phone, too.

The rest of the brothers you get, one by one. Belphie’s you steal while he’s sleeping, although you found nothing useful on it. Beel just lets you borrow his phone. You ask to borrow Mammon’s while he’s gambling and he doesn’t notice that it takes you an hour to give it back. Satan - the real photographer - must be taken into your confidence - you might need his help later anyway. But he’s particularly close to Asmo, and knows how to keep his mouth shut.

You stalk Lucifer for a few weeks. You ask Satan for advice. You consider asking Diavolo to just order Lucifer to hand over his phone.

Finally you just ask him for it.

Getting a hold of Asmo’s phone is the hardest bit. You have to wait until he’s deep in a spa day, hanging around in his tub with both a sheet mask AND cucumber slices.

Then you make off with his phone. And go through the photos.

His wonderful Devilgram-worthy pictures you ignore. You start looking for the ones that he rejected, but kept. The one where both of you cracked up laughing right before the photo snapped. The one where he dropped his hot chocolate and then stole yours.

The two of you in clay face masks and toe spacers? Yep. The one you took of him with super-wide eyes as he put on mascara? Definitely. Selfies of you two surrounded by his brothers, by Sol, by Simeon, even a few with Luke.

The one Satan took of the two of you dancing at one of Diavolo’s balls, so lost in each other that the rest of the ball might as well not exist? Of course.

You combine them with the ones taken by everyone else in the house.

Culling them for the best takes weeks. Because you don’t just want the ~~prettiest~~ pictures or the ones designed for social media.

You pick the ones with emotional meaning, ones of important events, but mostly you choose pictures of genuine laughter and affection. Ones that show how much the two of you love each other, and how much true friendship exists in the house.

How much he’s not alone, and how much he is loved. How much the people around him appreciate him.

With Satan and Solomon, you gather and enchant a simple glass cube.

It displays these photos, gently lit up, like the digital picture frames in the human world.

“I want you to remember me,” you say quietly. “I want you to remember how much fun we’ve had, and how much I love you for you.”

Not gonna lie, Asmo cries.

The cube moves around his rooms depending on where he is - it’s by his tub if he’s taking a bath. It’s on his vanity when he’s putting on his makeup. He credits it with helping his relaxation and makeup game.

It’s always on a nightstand by his bed before he goes to sleep. Sometimes he just lays on his back, puts the cube on his stomach, and watches memories float through it.

What you wanted - for him to remember that he’s loved for more than his sexual prowess - comes true. The pictures remind him of the life he has outside of a bedroom.

He starts spending more time with his brothers. He starts taking more pictures.

His followers appreciate the diversification in his content :)

He appreciates how much you love getting texts of those photos - the not-social-media-ready ones, but the REAL ones.

Beelzebub

(Unromanced)

I mean, you could just bake the guy a dozen cakes.

But then he’d eat them and they’d be gone.

And you can’t make him anything that looks like food, because he’d eat it.

You’ve finished your gifts for half of the brothers before you even figure out what to make for him.

And then it comes to you…..socks.

He’ll use them.

He won’t eat them.

They’re not the most interesting gift, but you’re running out of time.

You actually manage to find a pattern covered with colorwork triangles that mimic his usual shirt.

You get Satan to charm them for you - the problem with handmade socks is that they wear out FAST. Not anymore!

Beel LOVES them.

(To be fair, he’d probably love anything you gave him)

Once he knows they won’t wear out, they become his Game Socks.

Like most athletes, he becomes superstitiously obsessed with the socks, wearing them for absolutely every game he plays.

Is convinced they help him win.

(Romanced)

You encounter basically the same problem as above - what on earth to make him?

You want something that reminds him how much you love him, and it absolutely can’t be anything he could even be tempted to eat, because he’d never forgive himself.

You try a number of times to build a small tapestry loom, but that skill seems to be beyond you.

Finally you have to beg Lucifer to pick one up for you in the human world.

Once you get it, you’re off and running.

Now, just because things can’t look like food doesn’t mean it can’t be inspired by it.

Red yarn, the exact juicy red of an apple - but here, just an abstract circle. Mixes of pale cream, yellow, and red in a triangle - an abstract pizza slice.

Those cookies Barbatos makes? There. The broccoli-cheddar soup you learned to make for her? Now just an orange blob with tiny green squiggles. And on, and on.

And buried, scattered throughout, little woven hearts.

The hearts are made of slightly different yarn, puffier and thicker, so they stand out just a little bit.

In the end, you have a decent-sized wall hanging, full of texture and shapes that are just reminiscent enough of food to bring a smile to Beel’s face, but not enough to actually be worth eating.

He passes the hanging every day, and every day he brushes his fingers over the yarn or through the fringe; a physical reminder of you.

Belphegor

(Unromanced)

This guy is probably the easiest one to make things for.

Is it soft? Is it cuddly? Can he use it as a pillow? Can he snuggle it like a stuffed animal?

Click “yes” on any of those questions, and you have a happy - well, a slightly less annoyed - Belphie.

Which is why you take this as a challenge. The easy answer - a pillow - is BORING. And the other easy answer - a blanket - would take WAY too much time.

So, like Levi, he gets a plushie.

But not just any plushie.

He gets a plushie of Lucifer.

Lucifer…..on a pastel unicorn.

Belphie starts cackling the moment he opens it, which is fair, because you laughed a fair bit designing and making it.

He starts leaving it where Lucifer can find it, then saying that the elder can’t do anything about it, because MC made it and there’s no way he’d want to harm anything made by MC.

Satan tries to steal it.

In the end, an “anonymous” Devilgram is created, dedicated to the “adventures” of this particular plushie.

It’s all fun and games until Diavolo wants one.

(Romanced)

Well, for your boyfriend, the time and effort involved in making a blanket is just fine.

You debate endlessly - comprehensive color scheme? Granny squares or stripes? How heavy?

You go with your gut instinct - this isn’t a boy who cares about color schemes or blanket styles.

(Just look at his clothes, seriously.)

He cares about one thing - comfort.

You find the softest, smushiest yarn you can, and a pattern you can tolerate working on for like 100 hours.

You go old-school; a granny square blanket like the ones that pretty much every person had thrown over the couch in the 70s and 80s. The perfect nap blanket.

Black… mostly black, with some bright accent colors. Kind of obnoxious accent colors, actually. You figure it’ll appeal to his (dubious) sense of humor. Also it’ll piss Lucifer off seeing it around the house, clashing with literally everything in the oh-so-perfectly-decorated Gothic interior.

This one requires….special enchantment.

A little bit of ritual, and that blanket will fold up into a tiny square; easy to carry from place to place.

Belphie is torn between wanting to carry it around everywhere, like his pillow, and to leave it in the attic room, always waiting for him.

Depending on his mood, he’ll do one or the other.

But no matter what, he also sleeps juuuust a little bit better under it, snuggled up under your love.

You make him the Lucifer plushie, too. It’s too funny not to :)

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allgather · 2 years ago

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[ knuckles ] - to kiss your muse’s knuckles + [ bed ] - to push or pull your muse back on the bed when they try to get up @iruka

It was not often when Iruka woke up before Kakashi. He often made it a point to lay there in the morning, watching the peaceful way Iruka passed air through his lungs. it was a steady push & pull, comforting in an unspeakable way. but today was a little different. kakashi had been sleeping more, sleeping better. he didn't want to admit it, but it was credited to how naturally iruka fit into his arms. he was surprised, dismayed even, when iruka moved to push himself out of bed before kakashi.

he lets out a groan, a certain neediness bleeding into his sleep-heavy voice. by the time iruka is sitting up, Kakashi has already grabbed for his hand. he draws it close to his lips, kissing iruka's knuckles gently before using the intimate moment to tug him back into the covers. when he wraps his arms around iruka, he might be holding him a little too tight, " Stay? just for a little while. "

iruka has been used to waking up next to kakashi for quite some time. before they'd ever spoken about living together, boundaries were blurred between their separate homes and the warmth of spaces that were truly shared. iruka's old apartment, which he remembers fondly from before the village was leveled and they'd all had to start anew again, was as well lived-in by kakashi as it was himself; pieces of the man intermixed with his own possessions, his favorites stocked readily in his cupboard, and his trashy romance novels left half-read on iruka's coffee table. now, in this place that is truly, wonderfully theirs, iruka revels in the simple luxury of waking next to this man he loves so dearly. kakashi; who waits for iruka to blink sleep from his eyes with a lazy smile and greets him with a watchful gaze, like his habit of rising first is more protective instinct than mere routine.

today, iruka rouses to the sound of kakashi's breathing next to his ear, steady and deep. still sleeping soundly, like a rare and wonderful gift. he tries to leave him undisturbed, extracting himself carefully from the warmth of his partner's arms, intends to rise and get started on breakfast. but, ah, they are shinobi after all, and kakashi must sense the absence of warmth and the gentle buzz of chakra against his skin even in his sleep, the way it wakes him ( and iruka had thought he'd been so careful ). iruka pauses when kakashi moves to take his hand and graze gloriously exposed lips against his knuckles.

he opens his mouth to reply that he'll only be gone a few short moments, just long enough to start coffee, when kakashi takes advantage of the lovely distraction his kiss has provided. iruka feels the pull, with a strength that doesn't surprise him but is certainly impressive for so soon after waking. he allows himself to be tugged back down next to kakashi, where he settles into his arms easily, head resting on his chest. he reciprocates the gesture, turning his head to find kakashi's hand where is rests on iruka's shoulder, and places a kiss to its back.

iruka laughs, something fond and warm and bright, though the sound is worn slightly around the edges, sleep-laden and groggy. kakashi's request reminds him of their fumbling beginnings, when iruka had asked much the same of a man he'd already loved, rather hopelessly. stay, please, just for a little while. it's as needy now as it was back then, but things have shifted and iruka revels in how they speak their love openly between them in the present.

he's helpless against kakashi's request, so earnest it makes his chest feel warm. eyes have already flickered shut again when he replies. "always. anything for you, my love."

#xhatake #(iruka)#they are so sweet i will die

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dabis-57th-stitch · 4 years ago

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SFW alphabet: Juuzou Suzuya

I’ve been looking for a sfw version of this boy for so long that i decided to make my own

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) Juuzou typically shows affection verbally, considering he has little to no filter. He won't hesitate to tell you exactly how he thinks of you, at anytime of day. Of course this isn't always such a lovely surprise, but more often than not Juuzou has something good to say. First thing when you wake up? You know it. The middle of a high risk fight? You betcha. With his mouth half-stuffed full of candy? Oh yeah. Sometimes his comments can be a little backhanded, but he's surprisingly good at reading people and will try to learn from these little mistakes.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend?) Juuzou would be an extremely loyal friend. Though he hasn't had the best relationships, he understands that loyalty and honesty are good qualities. However, while he may be loyal to a fault, he can get a little distracted on occasion so keep him leashed when out and about.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?) Due to his past Juuzou isn't a very touchy person. He can stand the commonalities, and maybe a little more but generally cuddling is off limits. Now that's not to say he's never cuddled anyone, and that he doesn't want to. Every once in a blue moon, when he's with someone he trusts, Juuzou will indulge himself. He's like a deer when it comes down to it though, any sudden movements or the slightest sign of contestment and he's out. But if you're patient enough, and lucky enough, he'll slowly make his way into your lap, or better yet on top of you. He doesn't much enjoy spooning, and would rather both parties be more equals. Just as well if he's comfortable enough to cuddle with you, he's comfortable enough to do anything and very conveniently forgets what personal space is. He'll be all over you, hands in your hair or tracing patterns along your back. Oh, and a side note, he always smells of sweets and peppermint.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? ) To be honest, he doesn't even know what that means, really. He's not nearly as job oriented as some of his colleagues, but he's not family oriented either. So, supposing the idea was explained to him, he wouldn't be to interested. In other words, he has enough family at work.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) We all know Juuzou doesn't have a filter, so if he decided a relationship needed to end it would be short and sweet. This doesn't just pertain to any specific type of relation either. However, keep in mind Juuzou doesn't always know when bonds need to be broken, so sometimes, to those around him, it may seem as though he's dragging things out.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?) Again, Juuzou doesn't completely get the concept of marriage, however he does understand commitment, and as aforementioned he is extremely loyal. Though it's unlikely Juuzou would ever be in some sort of adult relationship, if he did happen to date he would be an outstanding boyfriend. For the most part he's ignorant to such things, but if Juuzou knows anything about healthy relationships it's that they're supposed to make those involved happy. Just as well he's receptive to those around him, and if you happen to claim his heart he'll go to the ends of the earth for you.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) Other than during combat, Juuzou is a pretty gentle person physically. Not only is he a smaller person, but he doesn't see the need for constant strength; actually he prides himself in his gracefulness. So unless you're fighting him, no need to be worried. Emotionally, most people consider Juuzou to be cold, and for the most part he is. He doesn't get attached easily, it's just not his nature. When he does cherish someone he'll let them know, and oftentimes make it his duty to protect them if they're unable to do so themselves.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) As mentioned, Juuzou isn't usually one to be openly physical. If you do happen to be one of the rare few he's comfortable with it just depends on how he's feeling. Some days he won't hesitate to tackle you, and other days he'll leave you wondering if you've somehow upset him. On the days he's especially close he can't stand to be apart from you. Whether it's holding your hand, or draping his arm across your shoulders he has to be touching you somehow.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?) He will not say it first, no way in hell. However, he's quick to say it back. Once it's said, it's almost as if your relationship has gone to the next level, no matter the type. Just as well, after the first time, you'll never hear the end of it. Juuzou is the type of person to tell you just how much he cares for you in more ways than possibly imaginable. Probably the sweetest thing about this, though, is the fact that it never loses its meaning. In other words, there will never be a time when he says "I love you" and doesn't mean it with every fiber of his very being. He can really only hope that he means as much to you as you do to him, but he'll love you either way.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) He isn't really the type to get jealous, more so, he'd probably just be confused. Unless it comes to food, he will get jealous of you having sweets very easily. Sharing is caring. When it comes to relationships and flirting, he does not understand, so don't even try it. Just as well, it's unlikely he'd ever give you a reason to make him jealous.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) Similar to cuddling, sometimes he's a love bug and other times he'd rather sit on the opposite side of the room as you. Traditional kisses, on the lips, aren't really his thing, he'd rather kiss you on the forehead or cheek. Just as well, he'd rather you kiss him on the forehead, or temples. When it comes to public displays of affection, he'll kiss you on the hand like a gentleman. Traditional kisses are saved for special occasions, so cherish them when they're given. An example of special occasions would be the first time you tell him you love him, and fyi it was his first.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?) Considering he's still a bit of a child himself, Juuzou usually gets along with kids wonderfully. This can also be a problem because sometimes he forgets that he's in fact a full grown person, and therefore can't play as rough as they do. Just as well, sometimes kids will remind him of his past, and it's not so much that he's bothered by it, more that he doesn't know how to react to certain children. Now when it comes to the question of having kids he's not so well suited, not only in the fact that he can't have children the usual way, but also in the fact that his first parental figure was not such a good one. In any sense, Juuzou would actually be worried about being a father.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) Juuzou is most certainly a morning person. Up before his alarm and ready to face the world. If you're a morning person waking up next to him is splendid, full of loud, happy conversation as the two of you get ready. If you're not a morning person, its most certainly not as great, but by no means is it bad. He'll probably wake you, but he'll also lay with you longer just talking quietly or lazily stroking a hand through your hair. He's not much of a cook so don't expect breakfast in bed, but do try to give him the time of day for he's the person to share his dreams first thing so he doesn't forget them.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) Considering he's more of a morning person there's chance you'll catch him dozing off. Loud noises and the like don't bother him much, but if you so much as come close to him he'll wake up. It's one of those sad things caused by his trauma that he'll never shake. Luckily if you do wake him he'll flash you a small smile, and ask that you lay with him. The thing is, while you can't change what happened to him, or the residual effects of it, you can help him cope. If he's comfortable with you chances are he'll become rather fond of your body next to his. If, and when this happens try not to push him away, this boy doesn't have much concept of self value and will likely go throwing his life away for your sake.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) He doesn't have much issue revealing things about himself, his past included. Not much really bothers Juuzou because his concept of morality isn't very constructed. That being said, he isn't one to go out and preach his life story to those who will listen either. Unless you ask him about himself he most likely won't tell you anything.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) Simply put, it depends on the situation. When on the job, Juuzou tends to be patient, at least as it pertains to killing things. Most often he's patient enough that things don't always have to be happening around him, but that doesn't mean he's actually focused on anything important either. If he's preoccupied with something, like snacks, then chances are you'll have his attention. If that's not the case, then it's likely he'll be found on an all expenses-paid round trip to la-la land.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) It's safe to say that Juuzou does not remember everything. He's remembers most of the big important moments between the two of you, but every once in awhile there is some little off-hand moment that sticks with him for some reason. Just as well, he probably remembers, and thinks about a lot more than you'd imagine, but it's likely you'll never hear about such.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?) It'd be difficult for him to choose his favorite moment. Naturally Juuzou cherishes a lot of your time together, especially fun ones like dates to amusement parks and the zoo. However his favorite moment is something you'd probably have forgotten about. To you it'd be nothing more than one of Juuzou's quirky, less dangerous adventures, but to him it's the time he let you in, and you embraced him. Most anyone who's been around Juuzou for more than a year knows his appreciation for heights especially ones with views of the city. All his colleagues know he goes to the roof if he's particularly distressed. His favorite memory happened to be one of those times, he was upset over a new protocol his group had to follow, and on his way to the roof you had caught him. To you, he was just showing you a good view of Tokyo, but unbenounced to you, he had just let you into his world, and you had accepted it. So yeah, that was probably his favorite memory.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) He would easily give his life for you, no questions asked. Frankly, if you were unable to protect yourself for whatever reason he'd be quite worried throughout the day. He's not one to mention it though. It's evident in his body language, but most often he feels that he's nagging you if he so much as mentions being more cautious, and Juuzou isn't one for nagging.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) Juuzou is the type for fun dates over formal ones. He'd much rather smudge his face against the glass of an aquarium with you than sit down and eat. Dates are one of those times to keep him leashed, else you'll have lost him in five minutes, tops. You'd think he would be easy to spot with his fashion sense but that is not at all the case. It should be understood that he actually puts a decent amount of effort into date ideas, of course he knows what he'd like to do, but he always asks you first because he wants the both of you to enjoy yourselves. Sadly that means none of your dates are surprises, however they're always thoroughly enjoyable.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?) Most of his bad habits stem from the lack of humanity he was shown growing up, so it makes most of these habits impossible to change, no matter how much you work at them. One of them would be his running off. He just simply doesn't think about alerting you of his absence because there was a point in time when no cared whether he was or wasn't. So, probably his worst habit of all is his lack of self value, most times he just doesn't stop to worry if something may damage him beyond the point of no return because he doesn't care.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) He isn't worried about whether he looks good or not, but he does have his own, extremely evident style. Obviously he likes to take this style to heights most others wouldn't dare but most of the time this isn't all too much of a worry. Just as well, it should be mentioned that Juuzou is quite cleanly. Most people consider him dirty due to his self-inflicted stitches, but in fact he keeps them, and the rest of his body, very tidy.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?) He doesn't much like losing anyone; friends, colleagues, or the like, but most times he can make the cut and walk out alive. However, there is a point where he starts feeling a loss. He isn't one to let a big loss tear him apart entirely, but it can definitely drag him down mentally. A lot of times these losses are a sort of wake up call. If he were to lose you, it would be catastrophic to his emotional health, not to the point of doing anything rash, but he would definitely feel it for the rest of his life.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.) Shinohara once told you, to your confusion and horror, that Juuzou would sometimes compare you to his weapon, Jason. Naturally, your superior had walked away before elaborating on whatever type of information he had just dropped on you, leaving you to ask Juuzou for yourself. You can bet that conversation was awkward, but he was happy to explain. "Yeah Osa, you're just like Jason: strong, sleek, and sexy!" He wiggled his brows at the end, and that was that. The two of you continue to giggle about that incident.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?) He couldn't stand a partner who constantly tried to change him. Especially if said changes were simply to benefit their personification of him. Don't try to manipulate him into changing either. Sure, sometimes Juuzou might seem like a box of rocks, but he's no stranger to the crueler ways of the world.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?) Besides his inability to sleep without your company, he has an odd habit of moving his mouth, like phantom talking. From your point of view it seems as though he's speaking to some unknown third party, however he's never actually said anything, and reading his lips is nearly impossible when his porcelain face is all squished up against a pillow. Overall, he's just super cute when he's peacefully asleep.

#juuzou suzuya #tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul juuzou #juuzou x reader #fluff #sf

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agorejessstone · 3 years ago

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Duskwood: Into the Forest Part 2

EPISODE 1 - 10 SPOILERS

When you open your eyes, you feel groggy, and your pulse pounds in your ears. You sit up slowly but something yanks you back where you lay. You jerk your head towards the source, expecting to find your arms bound and the man without a face lingering nearby. Instead, you see a handsome man, black curls peeking out from his hood, lying face down next to you. His hand is in yours, and even though he’s fast asleep, his grip is strong.

You smile to yourself. It’s him, your hacker. He’s here with you. You can’t believe it. However, the fond moment is short-lived as you remember the text from, Michael Hanson, and Jake’s reaction. You passed out. Was it from fear, anger, or something else? Your head hurts. You must have hit it on the way down. Did He carry you here?

You reach over and brush his hair from his face. You smile as you remember everything you’ve accomplished together. You entered the group chat 10 days ago. Hannah, Jake’s half-sister, was missing. She’d asked for his help. Her email was vague. He called her to find out how he could help. Instead, he witnessed her kidnapping.

He’d created a group chat amongst her close friends. Thomas, her boyfriend, was a prime suspect for police. Friends Jessy, Richy, Cleo, and Dan were skeptical that it wasn’t the work of someone in their group, while sister Lilly targeted you and Jake as suspects.

Hannah had your phone number, but how? Why was yours the number she chose to send as her last message? Maybe she meant to type something else? Maybe she was a few numbers off? The semantics didn’t matter, because you were eager to help, even from afar.

In the process, you met Jake. A faceless hacker who claimed he wanted to help find Hannah. He did not openly disclose his relationship at first, which caused Lilly to panic and make a YouTube video outing you both as the culprits. Thankfully, Jake was able to prove his relationship with Hannah and Lilly, and Lilly helped clear his name with a viral campaign.

Well, not clear his name exactly, but make it easier for him to hide. Jake is wanted by the government. You still think about what he could have done. You think about it now as you brush the hair away from his face lost in thought. He’s so gentle and kind. Sometimes he can be overprotective, but still. You just can’t fathom him hurting someone.

His pursuers were trying to get to you. A group of hackers infiltrated your phone. While he tried to outrun them, he’d stopped their attacks again and again. Why? What did you do to deserve his protection? He kept his thoughts and feelings close to him. You thought you both felt the same way, but it was so hard to tell.

You bite your lip as you think about everything you’ve been through. A flash of Jessy’s attack followed by Richy. You’d been on the phone with him when he’d heard shouting from the forest. You begged him not to go, but he was convinced that it was Hannah calling his name.

Your mouth goes dry as you remember him panting as he raced towards the source. The yelling stopped, and so did he. He glanced around the forest for the culprit but saw nothing. In the end, he’d been attacked from behind, just as he was about to head back.

“So much blood,” you whisper to yourself.

Your stomach lurches. They’re in trouble and were just lazing around. I yank my hand out of his. He shoots up suddenly.

“I’m sorry, but we have to go.” You say quickly.

“We can’t.” He says sleepily rubbing his eyes.

“Jake, we can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

“Your involvement is why he’s taking such drastic measures.” He says flatly.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Heart hammering out of your chest, you slump back onto the edge of your bed.

“Is… Is this my fault?” You hang your head.

“No.” He gently sits down next to you, just out of reach.

“Then why can’t we go?” Your head shoots up in defiance.

“It’s not your fault but it’s not going to make things better.”

“Fine.” You sigh in resignation “I assume you have a plan?”

“I do.” He stands and goes to a desk you hadn’t noticed until now. Flipping open his laptop, he gets to work.

“Where are we anyway?” You ask as you peek around the small room.

“My place.” He says quietly.

“Wait, you took me to your place?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?” You rub your forehead.

“You passed out.”

“Why and for how long?”

“I’m not sure, but it scared the hell out of me.” He says avoiding your gaze. “You’ve been asleep for about 12 hours.”

“I’m sorry.” You move to stand behind him as he taps away at the keyboard. The screen is encrypted. You don’t need him to tell you he’s hacking into something.

“I’m attempting to reestablish access to Hannah’s phone.” He says as if reading your mind.

“I see. What if we try to gain access to the others?” You place your hands on the back of his chair and lean down to get a better look.

“Good idea.” His fingers race across the keyboard. The screen reflects gently off his eyes as they dart past code after code.

“You’re good at this, aren’t you?” You mean it more as a statement, but it comes out as a question.

“Yes.” His fingers slow as your hands slide down from the chair’s back onto his shoulders.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You let your fingertips brush his chin as you lift them back up to the chair.

“No.” His hands come to a standstill. “Actually, yes.” He stands from the chair and turns to face you.

His movements are awkward as he reaches for your hand. He avoids meeting your eyes and you find yourself returning his grasp. You reach out with your free hand and tilt his face up slightly with your fingertips. He’s biting his lip. He looks nervous.

“Jake.” You search his eyes with yours.

“Listen, I.” He stammers under your touch. “I don’t think it’s a great idea that we’re together.” He swallows hard, “I mean, here, together.”

He’s nervous and it is adorable. You wish he wouldn’t feel that way. You’d climb mountains, swim oceans, walk to the edge of the earth if it meant being close to him. He knows that, doesn’t he?

He’s said things, done things, that make you think he feels the same way. He interrupted the vote with Lilly. Was that for you, or Hannah? Jessy thought it was for you. What about the card with your name on it at Michael Hanson’s abandoned home? He was emotional about that, even after looking at photos of the others being stalked. Your name was enough to set him off. Surely, he feels the same. Surely, he knows you’d do anything for him, right?

“Jake.” You start as he’s still lost in thought. “We’ll get through it together. I don’t care if you’re dangerous. I know you want to protect me, but you can’t protect me from everything.”

“We can’t.” He says quietly.

“Why not?”

“It’s dangerous.”

“I don’t care. How many ways must I tell you? I will never regret knowing you.”

“You could get hurt.”

“It would hurt me more if you left again.” You think back to Lilly’s video. The panic and fear of Jake being caught, jailed, or worse. Lilly fixed her mistake, made it easier for Jake to get away, but he was still forced into hiding. Those few hours, that day, felt like it was never going to end. Were you ever going to hear from Jake again? You’ll never forget the wave of relief you felt when his name finally popped up on your phone.

“I don’t think so.” He adverts his eyes.

“You know how I feel about you, right?” You stare at him unrelenting.

He’s still looking away even though you are commanding his attention. Why won’t he look into your eyes? You grab his chin and pull him to face you. Your noses brush slightly, and he pulls back, but you hold him firmly in place.

“Why are you doing this?” He says pressing his lips into a thin line.

You steel yourself and look directly into his eyes, “Because I love you, Jake.” You feel his jaws clench under your fingertips, “I love you, idiot. I’ve been drug into this mess, but I would do it all over again if it meant meeting you. Hannah and Lilly are important to you. I want to help save them both. I am part of the group now. I love them. Richy’s death hurt me.” Your eyes well up with tears, “Jessy’s attack made me want to run away, then and there, but you.” You swallow hard, “You kept me here. Not them. You. I wanted to make you happy, save your family.”

He’s shaking under your touch. He remains still searching your eyes. He glances past them to your lips for a moment.

“I can’t be with you.” He says flatly.

“I don’t care.” You quip.

He chuckles under his breath. “How do you do this to me?”

Without much warning, he uses the hand you have trapped in yours to pull you into his chest. He brushes the back of your head as you bury your face into his hoodie. Tears roll freely down your cheek. He presses his lips against the top of your head.

“We have to save them, Jake. They are our friends.”

“Indeed.” He says as he strokes your back.

“Jake.” You say as you lift your head. “We have to go to Duskwood.”

“How about a compromise.” He says softly moving his hand to the back of your head.

You realize how close your bodies are. Every inch of you is burning with his touch. You can feel his breath on your forehead. His scent lingers after you inhale. His hands are warm as they embrace you, and you feel your face flush.

“Comp…” You lick your lips nervously, “Compromise?” It’s all you can do to speak.

He nods, “We can get close to Duskwood, but not too close.” He says flatly.

“Alright.” You manage to choke out.

“You have to promise me you won’t leave my sight once we’re there.” He says softly.

“Okay.” You answer carefully.

“I mean it. Promise me.” He begs.

“I promise, Jake.” You flash a smile his way.

His eyes bore into you. Is he trying to make a point? Does he not believe you? What’s he looking for? While you’re lost in his eyes, searching for answers of your own, he presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes.

“Can I…” He pauses shaking his head.

“Can you?” You close your eyes and breath him in.

“Kiss you.” He says so quietly you almost miss it.

You answer him without words, pressing your lips to his quickly and pulling back. He grabs your wrist and reels you back towards him, deepening the kiss. Frantically, his lips move against yours, hands trailing up and down your back. Finding your hips, he pulls you flush with his. His tongue traces the outside of your lips, teasing you, asking permission. You answer him in kind until you’re out of breath.

“I take that as a yes,” He laughs as you pull away.

“Yes.” You say breathlessly.

“We should get moving. I’ve got a few more things I need to check on. You can book our flight in the meantime.”

“Uhm, Jake?” You say quietly.

“Yes?”

“I don’t know your last name to book the flight.” You realize how very little you know about Jake.

“Ah, here.” He smiles as he reaches in his back pocket and tosses you his ID.

You scan the contents and realize that the photo is his, but the rest doesn’t match up. According to this ID, his name is Alexander Presser, and he’s from the same area you are in. You roll your eyes.

“Fake ID, huh?” You grin.

“Yup.” He says as he returns to his work.

“I’ll book the flight now.” You say as you remove your phone from your pocket and load the website.

As you start browsing airports, flights, and hotels, your phone starts to ring.

It’s Jessy. She’s calling you, so you pick up. Jake’s computer screen flashes as the call routes to him as well. It’s a video call. It’s dark and dirty. The ground is damp. There are no windows or doors, and very little light. You are trying your best to take in everything you see in case it can be helpful. The camera pans from a blank space to a wall where several people sit, bound with the signature scarecrow bag over their heads. Their mouths must be gagged, their voices are muffled.

“What have you done?!” You screech.

“I will kill them, and you will watch.” A distorted voice makes you jump back and your skin crawl.

“Don’t touch them, you bastard!” You scream at the phone.

Jake grips your hand gently. You were so worried about the details you hadn’t noticed him join you.

“If you come to Duskwood, I will find you. I will kill you, and everyone you care about. Stay out of other people’s affairs. This is your last warning.” He threatens as the screen goes black.

Your hands shake as you let the phone drop onto the bed. Jake wraps his arms around you and plants a soft kiss on your forehead.

“It’s going to be okay.” He says softly.

“Is it?” you question angrily. “We have to get moving.” You pull yourself away from him and reach for your phone.

“I’ll get packed,” Jake says returning to his computer.

“Sure.” You say as you punch in your ticket purchase with trembling hands.

#duskwood #everbyte studios #duskwood everbyte #iamjake #jakexmc #jakexphil

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cdyssey · 4 years ago

Text

Holiday

Summary: Grace and Frankie have a heart-to-heart after 7x03. | AO3 Link

—

Grace makes margaritas that night to celebrate Grankiekuh, the new holiday that she and Frankie just made up to celebrate the fact that Frankie doesn’t feel the need to make up holidays to avoid her anymore.

“You just squished our names together and threw the -kuh from Hanukkah at the end,” Grace accuses, chuckling.

Light.

Playful.

Simply exuberant.

Just an hour ago, she was guzzling martinis on the couch with her ex-husband trying to figure out the quickest way to apologize to Frankie for a twenty-year-old mistake.

And now they’re planning a fake holiday together, and everything is somehow right in a world that also features her current husband sleeping in a jail cell.

“You have to admit—it has a certain ring to it,” Frankie hums determinedly. “We could be the new Shefani, the octogenarian Bennifer!”

“Well, don’t expect me to passionately hold your ass on a speedboat anytime soon,” Grace teases as she carefully measures tequila in a cylinder and then pours a little more than the recommended amount just to be safe.

“Nah,” her partner winks conspiratorially. “Just my hand across a candlelit table will do.”

And so they light a scented candle on the dining room table and drink incredibly boozy margaritas and eventually eat Del Tacos takeout that arrives half-an-hour late because the DoorDash driver couldn’t find the beach house. And Frankie laughs about Grace tearing the poor delivery kid a new one. And Grace quietly admires that Frankie still gives the twerp a twenty dollar tip anyway.

“At least he’s got a stronger constitution than Bugs Bunny,” Frankie snorts as she closes the door on yet another shell shocked human being who has encountered the wrath of Grace Hanson.

“That isn’t an impressively tall bar to surmount,” Grace replies, wrapping a fond arm around Frankie’s shoulders.

They talk, they eat, and then they talk some more when all that’s left at the bottom of the brown paper bag are tortilla chip crumbs. They talk a little bit about everything, really—the surprisingly pleasant weather these past few days, Bud’s apparent penis problem, Robert being useless at the dishes, and how delicious Del Tacos is.

And between them, talking about everything is certainly not the same as talking about nothing.

Because even if they’re only talking about the weather or the dishes or the abysmal states of their children’s genitalia, it’s because they enjoy each other’s company enough to implicitly understand that it’s nice to just sit together at the end of a long, hard day and hear each other’s voices.

Because the little things are nice sometimes.

The day-to-day minutiae and routine of living with another person.

Sharing space with them.

Being present.

Being kind.

And in experiencing another’s unadulterated kindness, becoming whole.

When Grace gets salsa on the corner of her pink mouth, Frankie reaches over and thumbs it off with a kind of casual intimacy that was hard won between them, fought for and so lovingly, so painstakingly earned.

They love each other.

They’ve surpassed the point where they constantly have to say it aloud.

I love you, Frankie says when she takes extra care to clean the dishes just the way that Grace prefers—something Robert Hanson never quite learned after forty goddamn years of marriage.

And I love you, Grace replies when she unthinkingly puts Frankie’s phone on charge because she realizes it’s on four percent, and her friend can’t fall asleep until she’s listened to meditative whale noises on YouTube for an hour.

And I love you, Frankie doesn’t say when she extends her palm to Grace and tells her that they should stargaze tonight because “Saturn’s vibin’ in the sky.”

And I love you, Grace replies when she threads their fingers together so snugly that their rings clink and replies—without sarcasm, without judgment, without weight, “Sure.”

And I love you, they tell each other as they slowly stagger their way out onto the deck, Grace assuming the right cushion and Frankie taking the left, arm in arm until the very last moment when it makes more sense for them to let go, to find their own equilibrium as the sea breeze sweeps gentle fingers through their hair.

The sky is star-freckled tonight, blushing purple and inky blue.

In the natural silence that follows, however, the moon and the stars and the supposedly vibin’ planets don’t particularly captivate Grace’s attention for very long, so she finds herself staring at Frankie, who’s staring off into space, her tall features bathed in amber porch light.

Something has shifted in her expression in the few elapsed moments since they’ve been outside, her thin brow furrowed, a frown threatening to tug at her lips where there had once been an easy smile. Her slender hands are clasped below her chin in a gesture that Grace has come to associate with introspective thoughtfulness, tinged with a kind of subtle melancholy that Frankie has always maintained that she detests and tries to consciously avoid.

“Frankie… are you—?

“We only fought for two hours this time,” Frankie interrupts softly, nodding towards the outdoor dining table where the Hanson-Bergsteins had yet another disastrous brunch together. (At least no one broke a bone or got hit with a wiffle bat this time.) “Ha, that’s a new record if I’ve ever heard of one!"

But the joke doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and Grace’s heart sinks somewhere beneath her ribcage. It throbs in her uncomfortably full stomach. She had naively assumed that three margaritas in a piece, the two of them could just skip the part where they rehash the day’s events and openly reflect upon them—but she should have known.

These emotional reckonings are Frankie’s chosen form of healing.

She’s always processed better aloud.

“Fighting with you is the most uninspired pastime I can think of doing these days,” Grace tells her truthfully. “I’d rather resolve our conflicts in five minutes than five hours, so we can catch Jeopardy! together without sitting on the couch in passive aggressive silence… I think we’ve reached a point in our friendship where we can do that… yeah?”

The question comes out a little more vulnerably than she would have liked.

Open-ended and hesitant, it requests an equally honest answer.

And while she knows that Frankie has no qualms about being emotionally honest, Grace also innately understands that she has chronically shied away from honesty about all matters pertaining to herself.

(When she initially told Nick that she wanted to redefine their relationship, she couldn’t have even told herself what the hell she meant either. She supposes she wants to have her cake and eat it, too—to be in a relationship with Nick and go home to Frankie. But maybe that means she doesn’t really love Nick, that she’s just using him for the ample entertainment he provides: the romance, the easy companionship, the sex. And maybe, at the heart of that unsettling hypothesis, she’s just as much of a stone cold bitch as everyone around her seems to think. Her husband is in jail, and she doesn’t lose any sleep about it. In fact, in her queen-sized bed in the beach house she shares with Frankie, she’s slept better than she has in all the many elapsed and miserable weeks since she said, “I do.”)

“Of course!” Frankie exclaims, her brows arching in surprise. “You say tom-ay-to, I say tom-ah-to, and then we kiss and passionately makeup. That’s exactly where we are nowadays.”

“Then why do you still look like a kicked puppy?” Grace asks shrewdly, folding her arms across her chest. “Or like Sol after his supposedly well-trained dog shit in his Birkenstocks.”

“Does being marginally tipsy on tequila count as an acceptable answer?”

“Nope.”

“Fine then and damn,” Frankie sighs, waving a defeated hand around the empty air. “But don’t hold it to me if I’m not making sense, Grace. I’m thinking rabbit trails tonight. And not, like, rabbit trails of criminally-tampered-with poop, but circles and other weird thoughts that don’t seem to be heading anywhere.”

“Hey, I'm not going anywhere—I’ve got all the time in the world to listen,” Grace replies easily, and this is love, too, without ever uttering the word.

Twenty years ago, she did everything short of making up a holiday to not spend a single moment alone in a room with Frankie Bergstein.

And now, she's done everything short of divorcing her husband to ensure that they're never apart.

Frankie's eyes briefly widen in pleasant surprise at this seemingly unexpected gesture, her parenthetically enclosed mouth curving into a gentle smile—tender and sweet.

Lord, she’s beautiful, Grace thinks to herself as Frankie mulls on her next words.

She thinks this at least twice a day and chalks it up to passive jealousy that someone can look so radiant without ever really trying, by just simply being herself.

“Mm, okay... so I was just thinking about how my thing might actually be worse than yours… and you killed my son’s beloved rabbit,” Frankie says bluntly.

And so clearly!

Like she already fully believes it.

Grace blinks rapidly, not entirely computing what she just heard.

“How the hell did you come up with that conclusion?” She asks, nonplussed. “Like you said, I killed your kid’s rabbit and lied about it for some twenty-odd years. You and Sol just played an elaborate game of hooky.”

Frankie looks torn on whether to laugh or shake her head in clear exasperation of Grace not getting it.

“But the ethical jury in the sky isn’t in on me creating a religious holiday just to avoid you,” she protests with a half-smile. “Or even worse, admitting that’s the reason after all these years. I hurt you, Grace, and I don’t wanna hand wave that away just so we can watch Jeopardy! in peace. I want to check in with you and make sure you’re really okay.”

Even after many years of slowly but surely becoming acquainted with Frankie’s uncanny sensitivity to her emotions, somehow, it’s always still a pure shock when Grace is met with the unadulterated and unconditional extent anyway. She’s still unlearning Robert’s idea of emotional care, which largely involved having a stockpile of generic gifts to placate her various moods and whims.

And frankly, she’s not the most empathetic woman of the year herself.

I hurt you, Frankie said candidly and made no attempt to defend herself, to excuse her actions.

I hurt you, she declared, and it was an I love you at the exact same time.

Grace can hardly swallow, her throat a hundred emotions thick.

“Hey now,” she eventually rasps, “don’t go all revisionist on me now. I was so fucking mean to you. We don’t play wiffle ball anymore at waffle-and-wiffle brunches because I hit you with a bat.”

“You told me there was a bee in my hair,” Frankie rubs the back of her head wistfully.

“There totally was,” she grins painfully, “but the bat was a highly unnecessary measure.”

“Grace!” Frankie groans. “Don’t get me sidetracked. I’m trying to be real with you here—I wasn’t a saint by any stretch of the imagination! I could be shitty to you, too.”

But Grace firmly shakes her head at this, her mouth pressed into a thin line, her rebuttal already locked, loaded, and innately known to be true.

“Not as often as I was to you, and rarely did you instigate because I’d already started it,” she insists, venom in her voice, raw and undeniable self-loathing. “If I’d been you dealing with me… God, maybe I’d have needed to make up a holiday, too…”

And even as she says it, the uneasiness in her stomach suddenly solidifies into sharp clarity and even crueler pain as she realizes what’s really been bothering her these past few days—a burgeoning feeling that she’s every bit as “harsh” and “vindictive” as Robert told the FBI lady she could be, even though she’s sworn she’s changed, even though she's wanted to be better.

God knows she's tried to be.

Because of Frankie.

Or maybe even for her.

The two reasons are interchangeable in her mind.

“I… I wasn’t like you, Frankie,” she eventually continues, glancing away so she doesn’t have to face the other’s expression—fearing confirmation of all her awful feelings, monstrously craving pity she’s sure she doesn't deserves. “Hell, I’m still not like you. The fact that my ideal marriage includes my husband being in jail more or less proves that.”

Grace Hanson doesn’t tip confused delivery boys thirty-percent after botched deliveries.

She doesn’t make up fantastical stories about magically disappearing bunnies for her kids so they believe in themselves.

She rarely apologizes for her mistakes.

And she makes a hell of a lot of mistakes.

“Robert called me harsh and often vindictive,” she chuckles humorlessly. “Well, I guess he’s got my number almost better than anyone.”

The ensuing silence following this proclamation stretches long and thin, like a tightrope strung precariously taut, and Grace is about to cave in to the temptation of looking at Frankie again when all of a sudden—

“Bullshit!” Frankie exclaims ferociously. “That’s a whole lot of bullshit, Grace Hanson.”

“Frankie, don’t defend—“

But she quickly reaches over and tightly curls her palm over Grace’s spiny knuckles, demanding her attention and getting it.

In so many years and throughout the span of them, she has been the only one to ever truly earn it.

Grace turns her head and finds Frankie’s oceanic eyes inches away from her face, storm-like in their intensity, piercing all over.

“Robert doesn’t get to use the present tense with you because he doesn’t live with you anymore,” Frankie insists when she knows she has Grace, when Grace can no more look away than a rabbit can actually disappear in a hat. “He doesn’t get to see you the way I do. And let's be honest here, I'm not sure he ever really has."

“And how do you see me?” Grace can barely breathe, only dimly aware that this is yet another needy question, one that can only engender a frighteningly vulnerable response.

Her heartbeat quickens.

She feels the exact striation of Frankie’s finger that is resting on the quarter of a million dollar wedding ring Nick bought for her in Vegas.

In the semi-lit darkness, Frankie’s sharply hewn cheeks feather themselves sunset pink.

Grace blindly assumes it’s the humidity.

“As someone worth discovering,” she murmurs, “and by discovering, understanding that you’re a pretty darn amazing person to love beneath all those expertly erected walls.”

Frankie leans forward then and presses a chaste kiss on Grace’s head, quick and habitual, like she’s done it a hundred times before. Her floral perfume wreathes her like a warm embrace. Beneath the perfume, she smells like acrylic paint and sea breeze and strange but rich incense—complex and earthy and full of so many vibrant notes.

Heat rises to Grace’s face.

This must be the humidity, too.

“Some people don’t get that,” Frankie continues, moving back to her own cushion again, “and that’s their loss. They’ve never had to carve a pretty statue outta stone before, have never had to work on a relationship with you over time.”

“So what you’re saying is that it takes work to love me, huh?” Grace raises a teasing eyebrow, even though she's not exactly sure that this is the appropriate time and place to make a joke. But the alternative to lightly joking is to internalize the words that Frankie just said, to truly contemplate what it means that there's at least one person in this world who'll wait for her—despite her many walls and damn them.

“It takes work to ever love anybody, really,” Frankie shrugs easily.

It’s an unsurprisingly sage take—Frankie’s always been good at emotions and relationships and all of the other important and dauntingly human stuff—but it’s also one that gets Grace to thinking about Nick again, about his kindness and his persistence and about his dedication to wanting to make things to work.

She’s beginning to get an inkling of what it might mean that she doesn’t want to meet him halfway, kind and persistent and dedicated though the man might be.

That if she had to choose again between husband and home, there would be no contest.

There would be no hesitation.

So perhaps there are two people in the world who would wait for her, but of those two, Grace knows there's only one whom she would invite to stay.

“Happy Grankiekuh, Frankie,” Grace says, leaning her head against her best friend’s shoulder. “I like discovering you, too.”

“Well, you should! I’m a fucking delight.”

“Don’t push it.”

“Ha, never.”

But in the end, Frankie intertwines their hands together, and the silence of this action is its own unmistakable and resonant reply.

I love you.

Grace Hanson is loved.

#grace and frankie #frankie bergstein #grace hanson #grace x frankie #s: grace and frankie #reginianwrites #grace and frankie spoilers #gaf spoilers

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thatsamericano · 4 years ago

Text

Careful, Throwing Snowballs May Result in a Kiss

Pairing/Characters: America/Romano. Background mentions of Seborga, Veneziano, Canada, and France.

Ratings/Warnings: T for cursing and mildly suggestive dialogue. Pure fluff with no warnings to speak of.

Word Count: 2103

Summary: America throws a snowball at Romano when he’s trying to build a snowman with his brothers. Once Romano tackles America, he has to decide what he wants to do with him.

A/N: Written for @hetalia-fanart-memes, who requested Romerica with the prompt “Don’t throw that snowball” on @helltalia-inc. I hope you enjoy this.

It was snowing in the park only a block away from where the nations had gathered for the world meeting. Romano was never the biggest fan of the cold, so if it had been up to him, he would have gone straight back to the hotel. He was looking forward to taking a flight back to Rome the next day, where he hopefully wouldn’t be dealing with this snow crap. In the unlikely event that it was snowing in Rome, Romano would go to Naples or another city in South Italy not affected as strongly by the winter.

But for today, Marcello, who had come along on this trip with Savino and Feliciano even if he couldn’t attend the official conference, had practically begged Savino to come build a snowman with him after the meeting. Feliciano had begged too, and under the force of two sets of puppy dog eyes, Savino had folded like a paper napkin.

This wasn’t so bad, Romano reflected. Sure, it was cold as shit, but he was relatively protected in his scarf, hat, and gloves, and he got to spend time with his brothers. At least he hadn’t been pelted with a snowball, which many of the nations had, thanks to America and Canada.

Romano glanced up when he heard France fussing about his appearance as he attempted to brush snow out of his hair. America, who was obviously the one who had thrown this particular snowball, was laughing in his usual obnoxiously bright, ridiculously loud, attention getting way. So, of course Savino turned to glance in that direction instead. He didn’t really have another choice.

Savino hated how his heart started pounding as soon as he looked at Alfred. It wasn’t fair, damn it. No one should look that handsome while just fucking standing there, hunched over a little as they laughed at their own joke like they were God’s gift to comedy. Alfredo was laughing so hard at himself that his cerulean eyes were narrowed into thin slits and tears were leaking from the corners. The sunlight reflected off his glasses, creating a bright light Savino couldn’t manage to look away from. Alfred’s grin was so big it could swallow the sky whole.

And the bastard had dimples, as if God hadn’t blessed him with too much beauty already. Savino wanted to kiss the corner of the idiota’s mouth, just to feel those dimples under his own lips. Savino swallowed heavily at the thought and told himself to focus on the snowman he’d been working on for the past half hour.

But he was too late. America’s smile had already softened, and he had already noticed that Romano was looking at him.

“What’s up, Little Italy? You feel like joining in on the snowball fight?”

Savino scoffed and forced himself to go back to reshaping his snowman’s head. “Hardly. As you can see, I’m busy at the moment.”

“Are you suuure? It could be a lot of fun.”

“If you want to go run around with America, that’s fine,” Seborga told him. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Romano wasn’t looking at his baby brother. He was looking at America, because he knew that mischievous tone of voice from back when they lived together, and he knew that Alfred was planning something. Fredo was never good at subtlety.

America was rolling a snowball together in his gloved hands with a smirk on his face. Because of course he was.

“I swear to God, if you throw that fucking snowball at me—”

The snowball went sailing through the air, and it hit him square in the chest. Savino was stumbled backwards a little, because Alfred had used way too much fucking force with that throw because of his super-strength. It wasn’t enough to really hurt him, but it was almost enough to knock him off his feet.

The sounds of laughter rang out around him. Alfred, of course, and Feli and Marcello nearby. Canada seemed to be chuckling, though he was too quiet for Romano to actually hear him, and so were the other nations nearby, even the ones like France who had been America’s snowball victims.

And that just wouldn’t fucking stand.

Romano glared at America as viciously as he could manage when he was more irritated than truly pissed off. “Now you’re gonna get it, stronzo!”

Alfred took off running, shrieking with laughter, and Savino chased after him. They ran for a couple minutes, because America could be pretty fast when he wanted to be. But he couldn’t outpace an Italian.

Eventually, Savino tackled him in a snowbank and fell right on top of him. If America had really wanted to get away, Romano would have had no hope of holding him down. But America wasn’t struggling. He relaxed back against the snowy ground, panted for air, and smiled up at Romano sheepishly.

“Looks like you caught me.”

“I guess I did.” Savino moved one of his hands to the side to gather up some snow in his palm. Alfred didn’t notice. He was still too busy grinning up at him.

Alfred giggled, because apparently, he found the idea of being in this position inherently hilarious for God knows what reason. “Now that you have me, what are you gonna do with me?”

Savino gazed down at him thoughtfully. He took a moment to examine the golden blond hair tousled underneath his knit cap and how it perfectly framed his rosy cheeks. He stared at the goofy smile and the electric blue eyes that had distracted him so thoroughly before. He memorized what it felt like to have Alfred’s firm, solid body laid out underneath him.

“I can think of a few things,” Savino admitted quietly. “Not all of them would be appropriate for a public park.”

Alfred’s eyes widened comically behind his glasses, and his face turned red. No, not just red, practically scarlet. His face practically matched the poinsettias that had been decorating the lobby of the office building they were in earlier today. “Vinny, that’s um, that’s, wow, I…”

Romano chuckled at how flustered and tongue-tied he was. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

Alfred nodded frantically, with a desperate look in his eyes. “Please.” He might have been embarrassed, but he was eager too. It was too adorable for Savino to resist.

He started to lean down, and America closed his eyes, because he was innocent and gullible enough to do that. He couldn’t see Romano’s arm lifting with the snowball he’d make earlier. A millisecond before their lips touched, Romano shoved the snowball he’d made earlier directly into the crook of America’s neck, right above his coat collar and scarf, where he was unprotected from the cold.

America’s eyes flew open, and he squawked indignantly. “You tricked me!”

Romano laughed at the offended look on his face. “You made it so fucking easy.” He couldn’t believe America had actually fallen for the oldest trick in the book.

Alfred growled at him, and the low noise sent a tingle down Savino’s spine. “That was evil. I really oughta do something about it.”

Savino snorted. “What the fuck do you think you’re gonna do, Mr. Tough Guy?”

“This.” Before Romano could ask what “this” was, America flipped them over, and in the space of a second, he was pinned underneath someone a lot stronger than him. He couldn’t have escaped if he’d wanted to. Savino couldn’t breathe properly, and he couldn’t tell if it was because of the sudden body slam or the fact that Alfred was on top of him.

To repeat, Alfred was on top of him. His brain couldn’t function at half its normal capacity when he realized that.

Then Alfred was kissing him, and it wasn’t soft, nor gentle, nor sweet. America’s tongue shoved its way into his mouth immediately, without any build-up or finesse, and Romano could feel how frustrated he was. He must have been suppressing this desire for as long as Romano had, because it didn’t just feel like something America wanted. It felt like a raw, animalistic hunger, like he was kissing Romano hard enough to bruise because he might die if he didn’t.

Savino felt the same way. He groaned in the back of his throat, clutched the collar of Alfred’s coat, hauled him close enough to feel the edge of his glasses digging into his face, and kissed him back just as forcefully.

After a while, it had to end. They couldn’t kiss forever because of that whole inconvenient “need to breathe” thing. Alfred disconnected their mouths, sighed happily, and scooted down a little to nuzzle Savino’s cheek.

“Best revenge ever,” Alfred declared triumphantly.

Savino huffed out a laugh. “I’m not sure if that counts as revenge. Revenge is supposed to be something the other person doesn’t like.”

“And you liked kissing me a lot, didn’t you?” America sounded so smug and sure of himself, and ordinarily, Romano would have been annoyed by anyone with that kind of attitude. But with Alfred, the fondness tended to outshine his annoyance. That didn’t happen with most people.

Savino rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I did.”

“I liked kissing you too. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for ages. I could kiss you all day long. Well, except for when I have to go to the bathroom or something like that. But other than that, pretty much all the time.”

Savino shook his head and laughed again. “God, I love you.” The words slipped out, because they were so easy to say. Fredo was a dork who would openly admit to wanting to kiss Savino all the time, and he wasn’t even exaggerating. He looked like a goddamned movie star, but even with his occasional moments of arrogance, he never seemed to realize how ludicrously attractive he was, much less how he could have anyone in the world wrapped around his pinkie finger. America made Romano laugh and smile more than anyone else ever had. Of course Savino loved him.

Alfred blinked in shock, he’d just seen the face of God, but somehow more astounded than that. Then he grinned, with the adoration of a child to its mother or a puppy to its owner, but somehow purer and more loving than that too. Savino’s internal similes were failing him.

Alfred’s words were failing him too. “I love you too! I love you so much, I just—” He didn’t finish his sentence and resorted to covering Savino’s face with ecstatic kisses.

Savino giggled at his overexuberance. “Tesoro, I believe you. You don’t have to prove it, okay?”

“But I want to.”

Fair enough, Savino supposed. He laid there, grinning like an idiot in the snowbank, and let Alfred keep kissing his face. His hat had been knocked off earlier when Alfred flipped them over, and the cold at the back of his head and the nape of his neck was starting to get to him, but he was trying to ignore that.

When he noticed Savino shivering, Alfred sat up and pulled him into his lap. “Better?”

“Much.” Romano saw his hat on the ground and frowned in indecision. It had been laying in the snow for a long time, so it would probably only make his head colder, not warmer.

So instead of reaching over to get his hat, he nestled his head into America’s shoulder. America wrapped both arms around him in a clingy embrace.

“Now it’s perfect,” Savino decided.

Alfred kissed the top of his head. “Damn right it is.”

Savino wasn’t quite warm due to the temperature outside, but he was content and drowsy. The rhythm of Alfred’s breathing was oddly soothing.

That rhythm was interrupted by an abrupt laugh. “Dude, I just realized. If someone came by looking for us, they’d find you curled up in my lap instead of running after me and throwing snowballs. They’d be confused as hell.”

“Let ‘em be confused. I don’t really care what they think, do you?”

Alfred squeezed him a little tighter, and Savino didn’t have to look up to know that he was smiling.

“I never did. I’m just happy to be holding you.”

Savino’s face was warm, and he was blushing at least as badly as Alfred had been earlier, after Savino had implied he might do something to him that wasn’t appropriate for a public park. He wasn’t used to this much affection, and maybe he never would be.

But Romano didn’t care who might walk by and see him blushing with a cheesy grin on his face. He was happy, Alfred was holding him, and that was all that fucking mattered.

#hetalia #romerica #hws america #hws romano #hws south italy #aph america #aph romano #aph south italy #hetalia fanfic #hetalia fanfiction #hws fanfic #hws fanficition #aph fanfic #aph fanfiction #my writing #original post

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nieladasdenani · 4 years ago

Text

The daylight’s fading slowly (but time with you is standing still)

So, months later I finally was able to finish the prompt @mooooonshine gave me: The Corrs - Breathless + Summer Vibes. I hope it holds to your expectations, as it was erased twice accidentally! I love the Corrs, actually, so maybe that helped keep trying. You can also read this in AO3, if you rather.

Lena Luthor hates the beach.

She's aware that it's an unpopular opinion. And it's not just because standing in the shore of vast expanses of water trigger some trauma. It's not to be edgy either. Lena can actually appreciate the gentle breeze coming from the ocean, the calming sound of the waves. But she's not a fan of the Sun burning her skin, unless she's cocooned under a palm tree wearing a giant hat and shawl. Or the intense heat that makes the sand stick to her skin. Or the noise of too many people having too much fun, everyone trying to impose their respective playlists.

And yet, here she is. Dragged by her traitorous best friends with a flimsy excuse of getting back out there, Lena. So, it's been a while since she's last had casual sex. But less time since she had sex, though. She just ended a two-year relationship, and it's in no hurry to get back out there. Jack is still a dear friend, and it was her who ended things, it's not that she's opposed to casual sex, or one-night-stands, it's a matter of respect for the relationship they had.

"It's been a month, Lena. I think you mourned your kill long enough." Andrea's deadpan comment reaches Lena's internal ramblings, as if her friend could read her mind. She supposed she can, after all those years of friendship. Which is also why Lena glares at her openly and without remorse.

"No. Don't start, you two. We're here to have some fun, and enjoying a lovely day at the beach. We deserve a break!" Sam's always been the soft one out of the three of them. "It's also a good opportunity to meet new people!" Now Sam's throwing an unfairly sweet, hopeful smile at Lena, which in turn make her frown harder.

"Et tu, Brute?"

"Now, there's no need to be so dramatic, Lena. I'm not saying you have to, we're here to have a good time as friends, and if it happens, then, great!" Sam has the audacity to grin, and Lena is appalled to find herself softening in the face of her friends' love. Lena's not about to show this, though. Especially not when Andrea is smirking smugly at her, as if she knows she's won.

"Why are you smiling as if you enjoy spending time at a packed beach?" Lena fires at Andrea, who shrugs:

"I like it just fine. More so when I can eye such delicious, half naked snacks." She says this while pointedly looking in the general direction of a very tall, very handsome dark skinned man, who's smiling at a much shorter but equally gorgeous dark haired woman. Lena's about to point out how the pair seem to be a couple to Andrea, when Sam can't contain her enthusiasm any longer and explodes with an expressive:

"Who wants to get in the water!?"

Neither Lena, nor Andrea startle at the exuberant proposition, they both acknowledge it, however, with a decline. Though, Andrea promises to join her in a future immersion. The rejection doesn't affect Sam in the slightest, who skips the short distance that separates her from the ocean and dives head-first into the water, disappearing from view.

The attention of the remaining pair is grabbed by loud exclamations of joy coming from a group of people that are settled a short distance from them, only to discover that tall and handsome and short and gorgeous are part of the neighbors, and the actual reason they are whooping. Lena imagines it's because they come bearing alcohol and snacks.

"It seems like your snack is already taken." If she's going to have to get through this by force, Lena might as well be annoying, perhaps it will deter her friends from future abductions to the beach.

"Are you not familiar with concept of eye candy?"

"All I'm saying is, if you're going to fantasize about a handsome man, but it turns out he has a gorgeous girlfriend, and they're displaying it so publicly it must dampen the illusion somehow." Lena shrugs, not willing to let it go.

"You said that like it's a problem. All I hear is: handsome man and gorgeous woman. I'm sure you can also appreciate this combo." Andrea directs an arched brow at her, and Lena sighs in defeat, because she sure as hell can appreciate it.

"You're incorrigible." Lena huffs out with a laugh.

"Hey, guys!" They hear Sam, and turn in time to see her waving them from near the edge where sand meets water. Her smile impossibly large as droplets drip from every inch of her. Lena instinctively waves back with a small smile, but then freezes, because right behind her friend there's a goddess.

"Oh, no." She can't help the murmur that escapes her. It's a miracle that she recovers enough, despite Andrea's pointed, mocking, laugh. Just in time for Sam and her new friend to reach them.

"This is Kara!" Sam wears a smile that would be predatory when directed at Lena if it was in anyone else's face, specially Andrea's. "We were talking, and she's inviting us to join her and her friends to spend the day here at the beach!"

"Oh, isn't that wonderful, Lena?" And sometimes, Lena truly wonders why she allowed a friendship with Andrea to bloom after they fucked in college.

"Yes, so gracious." The growl is directed at her friends, but the moment she circles back to look at Kara, Lena finds herself smiling genuinely. Not only because the girl is ridiculously beautiful and fit, but because she's sporting one of the most charismatic smiles Lena has ever been hit with in her life.

"Hi! Sam said you guys were here to have a break from life, and so are we. So I figured we could just join forces and have a good time?" She's chipper, which should be enough to save Lena from this situation, because Lena Luthor hates the beach and Lena Luthor doesn't do chipper. And yet...

"That'd be wonderful, thank you, Kara. Are you sure it won't be a problem with the rest of your group?" Lena finds herself saying.

"Oh! Not at all! They're all very friendly and welcoming. Like I told Sam, it's really not a problem."

"Lovely. I'm Andrea, by the way. This is Lena. It seems as if our dear Sam has forgotten her manners."

"Right! Sorry!" She sounds anything but. "Anyway, shall we?" She's practically jumping with excitement and hurries to carry as much of their things as she physically can. Kara then jumps in to help, despite Lena's protests.

"No, it's no problem." And god, that smile is a weapon.

Turns out they fit right into the group, mostly because said group is outstandingly welcoming, at least after some awkward introductions that served to confirm that tall and handsome (James) and short and gorgeous (Lucy) are, indeed, a couple. Lena tries to send a smug smirk Andrea's way, but her friend looks, if anything more pleased. Incorrigible.

Kara doesn't leave Lena's side, not even when she looks like she's physically ill at the prospect of not getting into the water when most of the group decides to dip together. Andrea included, which almost makes Lena openly balk at her. Kara keeps stealing glances at the friends loudly enjoying the water, so much so that even Lena is close to feel like she wants to join them, too.

"You should go. I promise I'll be here when you come back." Lena teases. Satisfied when a light blush covers Kara's lovely face.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course! You look like you're about to turn green with envy." Lena appreciates Kara's laugh, like she's always been free to express it, and she finds herself wanting to hear it more. A lot more. Odd.

"Ok! I'll be right back! Have fun, don't let Alex scare you, she's actually a softy." And with that Kara bolts to the water as if she'll turn to sand if she's not wet promptly... Ok, maybe not the best analogy, now Lena feels like she needs to dip in cold water. Ah, Alex. The big sister. Right. She has been friendly enough, but she keeps giving Lena the side eye and Lena's afraid she may receive a shovel talk she's not sure if she's ready to face. Lena faces her with a solid, confident stare, she's a Luthor, after all.

"So," Alex starts, "how are the labs at Luthor Corp? You're awful far from Metropolis." She never leaves her stare from Lena's face, not even when she sips at her drink. Which is a problem, because even if Lena recovers well, she's sure Alex didn't miss how much her question startled her.

"Hm, are you keeping tabs on me? What is it, agent, special agent?" Lena remembers Kara gushing about her sister's accomplishments when she introduced them, FBI.

"Doctor Danvers is fine." She says. Smug. Lena squints at her. "I'm something of a scientist myself."

"Ah, that's what Kara meant when she said you were like Scully, then." And, surprisingly, they share a fond huff of a laugh over it. So maybe there's still hope.

"Yes. I like to keep up with the latest and greatest of the scientific community as much as I can. And that seems to lately involve Luthor Corp more often than not." Oddly, Lena sees the thinly veiled compliment, she tries not to blush.

"Well, it's a passion of mine. The lab, that is." Alex hums, but adds nothing, just keeps her gaze on Lena. And are moment like these when she's grateful for Lilian, she would be squirming if it weren't for her mother. They share a few more charged stares. Then Alex sighs and drops her eyes for a moment.

"Just don't play with her, all right?" Oh, wait what? Oh, no. She thinks... No!

"We're moving the company to National City!" What? What is she doing' why is she revealing secret information to a literal stranger? "We're changing the name, too. To L-Corp." Oh my god, someone please shut her up! Now! Oh she's dead. And Alex looks completely baffled, she even takes a couple of tries to speak.

"I...Oh. Oh, ok. That's, that's great."

"You can't tell anyone, though." She's not begging, just clarifying. "Please." An afterthought.

"Sure, no problem."

"I wouldn't. I wouldn't play with her." And here Alex sends her a searching look, no doubt looking for flaws. She doesn't seem to find any, because there aren't, and because she shrugs, finally.

"All right. That's all I ask. She's a big girl, she can take care of herself. But If you break her heart I'll make you regret it."

Lilian is going to kill her. Why is she revealing corporate secrets like this? For fear of the sister of a girl she finds cute (ok, glorious)? What the fuck? Since when does she panics like this? Why does she even care to make clear to Alex she's not playing with Kara? Oh Lilian is definitely murdering her now, no matter she's the only child she has left, now that Lex went crazy. So she probably shouldn't be making fun of her brother's very serious mental illness, but she's in self-destruct mode, apparently. Oh, forget Lilian killing her! Sam and Andrea are going to mock her relentlessly. Wait, they don't have to find out! None of them. Oh, good.

"What's wrong with you?" Andrea's usually unimpressed drawl has a tint of concern. And Lena is so caught off guard by the return of the rest of the group form the water that she gapes a little. Which only makes Andrea's frown deepen.

"Nothing. What's wrong with you?" Great. Excellent comeback. Andi's eyebrows almost touch her hairline.

"What did you do?"

"Everything ok?" Kara's sweet voice carries a hint of menace, and both Lena and Andrea turn to see her in such a defensive pose it's kind of uncanny to associate it with the sunshine girl they've met. It's actually kind of hot.

"I don't know. But she looks terribly guilty." Andrea, who seems to be a little impressed herself, says while pointing her accusing finger at Lena.

"Oh! Are you ok?" And she's back to being sweet, sitting back down next to Lena and scooting closer in case she wants to share a secret... again.

"Yes. Yes, of course."

The situation is gathering the attention of everyone, and Lena is sure that she's heading towards a panic attack. But her rescue comes from the least expected place: Alex.

"It's fine. She's just trying to reconcile the fact that I'm FBI and a scientist that knows science."

Lena sends a grateful smile Alex's way, because that seemed to be enough of an explanation for everyone else. Everyone else, except Andrea, of course. Lena does her best to ignore her, which is honestly not that hard with Kara so close to her giving her all of her attention, or the years of practice Lena has in the matter of ignoring Andrea. Also because Andres has her own source of distraction, in the form of James and Lucy. The day goes by in a whirlwind of fun, Lena's loathed to admit. Until Kara's stomach actually growls.

"Yep," Alex says, "that sounds about right. How about we order some actual food before hungry hungry hippo here resorts to cannibalism?" Kara's pouting, but she's also not offering any sort of dispute either. Something Lena shouldn't find adorable, and yet...

Somehow night crawls on them, and Lena is surprised to find that she's not drunk, despite having been drinking since they joined Kara's group. Actually, now that she thinks of it, none of them are. It's probably because Kara was making sure they were all drinking water and eating regularly, the whole time. She feels a little shift in her heart.

It looks like the spell will be broken when Sam regretfully announces that she needs to pick up Ruby from her dad's place. Andrea and Lena start to get ready to go with her, but Sam adamantly refuses them, ordering them to stay and enjoy the rest of the night. That she's just going to pick up her daughter and head home anyway. They insists, even Alex offers to be the one going with Sam, which strikes Lena as odd (doesn't Alex have a girlfriend?). But Sam, for her sweet disposition is really good at being a mom and having a mom voice.

"The only thing is that you two are going to need to find a way get back. I trust our new friends to take care of that?" James is the first to scramble to placate Sam that they'll make sure Lena and Andrea get home safe.

After Sam left night was quick to fall and they group started to retire for the day. Alex received a call from her girlfriend, Brainy and Nia left for Nia’s roommate’s birthday party, Winn had “mysterious date” his friends were teasing him about the whole time.

To Lena’s utter surprise, Andrea ended up leaving with James and Lucy, sporting the smuggest of smirks. This left Lena in the sole company of one Kara Danvers. Lena is actually surprised of how good her day at the beach was, she had fun, she feels like she did make new friends, not acquaintances, but actual friends. She also learned a lot about Kara, who has no reservations in wearing her heart for all to see. Which in Lena’s life is refreshing. It’s why she can tell the blonde is nervous when she says:

“I, I could walk you?” She doesn’t word it as a question but her voice does this thing that makes it sound like one. It’s endearing. It’s disarming.

“I’d like that.” And Lena’s nervous, too. She’s just better at hiding it. She’s nervous because she really wants to fuck Kara tonight. But she truly doesn’t want Kara to be a one-night-stand, or something even more ridiculous, like a summer love. But, god, she really wants to make love to this absurdly beautiful girl. And the walk is lovely, the air is a little cooler, but mild enough they can stay in their beach clothes, it gets lovelier when Kara spots her favorite ice cream stand open and insists she introduces Lena to:

“The best ice cream ever, you’ll see.”

“I’m sure.” She is, because she’s starting to believe everything with Kara is going to be delightful, Lena’s never been more charmed in her life.

Kara ends up buying a monstrosity that’s like a sample of every flavor available in one giant cup. Lena voices her concern about the amount of ice cream, and how she doubts they’ll be able to finish it. And Kara looks at her with a genuinely offended expression. Admittedly, the ice cream is delicious, and surprisingly, Kara does manage to finish the whole thing by the time they reach the hotel Lena’s staying in while her new apartment is done. They both look at the entrance like it has personally offended them.

“Well, this is me.”

“Yeah. Uh… Would you… I know you’re an important scientist and are probably super busy, but, do you think we could see each other again?”

“I’d love that.” Lena’s sure she’s never sported a bigger smile on her face. “Here, let me add you to my contacts, and I’ll text you so you have my number as well.”

“Yes, yeah. That’s awesome!” They exchange numbers like giddy teens, but still linger just outside the door.

“Would you like to come up?”

“Oh, you have no idea. I really, really do. But I want you in my life for as long as I can have you, you know? I mean, I want to do this right.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, if… if that’s what you also want, of course!”

“What I want is you, naked, in my bed.”

“Oh… Rao…” Kara’s so red, it’d be concerning if it wasn’t so adorable. “I really want that, too. I do. But, will that mean like a one night thing? What are you proposing, exactly?” Lena is so surprise for a moment, about the openness of Kara’s feelings, that it’s taken the wrong way. “I’m not, like, trying to pressure you into anything! Please, don’t freak out! It’s just, I like you so much, I really would like to maybe try and see if we work? Together? Like, as a couple? I know we just met… What I mean is, I’d like to know where we stand.”

“Kara,” because Lena doesn’t ever want to be the reason Kara looks this distressed again. “I’d love to explore the possibility of a romantic relationship with you. I know what you mean, you want to go step by step. I appreciate that. I just really wanted to have my way with you tonight.” Lena teases. And suddenly, Kara’s whole body language changes, she gains some confidence at Lena’s confirmation of affection.

“Well, I’ll make it worth the wait.” And oh, Lena is going to hold her to that.

They’re close enough to each other there’s no way to tell who initiates the kiss, it’s probably both of them, honestly. It’s soft, but so full of promise, Lena suddenly has no problem with doing the thing right, doing it their way, at their pace. She has a feeling this is all going to be worth it.

As a matter of fact, she’ll be right. She and Kara would go to start a relationship that’d be the best either of them ever experienced. They complement each other nicely, when Kara is impatient, Lena steps up, and when is Lena the one rushing things, is Kara who grounds her. It’ll start with regular coffee dates, then dinner dates, then lunch dates at Lena’s office. Game nights, movie nights. It’ll be like watching a flower bloom. And yes, the wait for the love making part will absolutely be worth the wait.

#supergirl #supercorp #fanfic #supercorp fanart #supercorp fic prompt #kara danvers #kara zor el #lena luthor #kara + lena #summer love but forever

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brezchez · 4 years ago

Text

~~~

Just like we used to - Creativitwins 🛡🗡

~~~

TW: Swearing

Word Count: 1851

A/N: I haven't seen many Creativitwin one shots so here's one I wrote with some fluffy platonic Dukexiety because they were definitely close friends once and I love their dynamic. That being said enjoy the story!

~ Bre

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

Remus blew the white strand of hair that had fallen on his face away. He looked around, pouted then sighed. There was nothing to do. Thomas was busy writing scripts for the newest Sanders Sides episodes so Roman was with him, and on a creative streak too, so it was safe to say that he would pretty occupied for the rest of the day.

'Hmm. Maybe I'll find someone in the common room,' Remus thought to himself. Surely there would be someone there that he could bother-I mean-talk to. As he walked over to the core sides' part of 'The Imagination', Remus noticed that the sun was shining brighter than usual. Thinking that it may be because of his brother, he smiled at the thought. Though he had been accepted as one of Thomas' sides, Remus' relationship with Roman was still a little strained and, though he had never openly admitted it, he wanted to desperately repair it with him, because he missed the times when they used to play together and fend off the imaginary demons and monsters that tried to threaten them. Still, Remus grinned subtly at the thought of his brother calling out random ideas and jumping out of joy at them... just like he always used to do.

When he opened the door, Remus found Virgil sitting cross-legged on the floor, tending to his hoodie.

"Oh, hi Re," he greeted as he looked up.

"Hi," Remus replied quietly. Virgil's eyebrows furrowed at the response. It was very out of character for Remus not to be so loud and flamboyant so hearing him speak like that immediately concerned him.

"Hey," Virgil said softly, standing up. "What's up?" Remus shook his head as he walked away to sit on the couch and Virgil followed him mutely. Instead of reclining back, the dark creative side leant forward, rested his elbows on his knees and stared at the carpet. Virgil said nothing and only stood there in front of him, waiting for his response. He knew Remus would tell him eventually but now he didn't need to be pestered about it; he just needed a few quiet seconds to gather his thoughts, and the anxious side understood that.

"I..." he said eventually. "I've just been... thinking."

"Thinking? About what?" Virgil asked, feeling an invisible wave of deja vu wash over him.

"Roman and I." Virgil's expression dropped and his eyes filled with pity. For years he had been silently watching the two brothers grow further and further apart and it honestly broke him to see their relationship become reduced to nothing. They had once been so close and practically inseparable, until one day, for some unknown reason, they stopped talking to each other. It was like seeing your two best friends become strangers over night, and no knew why. And whenever Virgil or any of the other sides had attempted to reunite them, or at least talk to each other again, both Roman and Remus resented the idea. They had just suddenly started hating each other... and no one knew why.

However, over the past couple of months, Remus started to warm up to the idea of making up with his brother. It was evident that he missed him dearly and he couldn't deny it any longer. He just... didn't know how to say it.

"Have you tried talking to him?" Virgil inquired after a few moments of silence. Remus laughed half-heartedly at the suggestion.

"You really think he's going to want to talk, or even listen to me after all this time?" he said, still looking at the floor. Seeing his friend like this disturbed Virgil, but not in a bad way. He hated seeing him like this and it was times like this that Virgil genuinely missed Remus' usual wacky-self.

"Don't tell him this," the anxious side started, sitting beside him. "But... Roman does talk about you too." Remus' eyes widened in surprise at this; he hadn't expected that at all. "A lot actually."

"Oh. I thought he hated me."

"No! Gosh no! Remus, Roman misses you just as much as you miss him," Virgil exclaimed, placing a comforting hand on Remus' back. "Do you know the number of nights he's spent complaining to me about how much he's been hating himself for pushing you away? Seriously it's been exhausting," Virgil sighed, leaning back on the sofa. Remus bit back a smile. "He really misses you Re. And he's been wanting to talk to you again for so long, but he doesn't, and I quote, 'know how to put it into words'. But secretly, I think he's waiting for you to say something. And I get that you've probably been waiting for him too but... someone's gotta make the first move." Remus bit his lip in thought as Virgil spoke. The idea of speaking to Roman again secretly terrified him. He didn't know how he would react, what he would say and most of all, he was scared that he might say something that would put an even bigger strain on their relationship, and that was the last thing he wanted. Remus was infamously known to be the side with no filter.

"How will I know what to say?" he questioned.

"You'll know, trust me," Virgil said and Remus nodded. "Hey, take it from me. I'm the most anxious side here and I managed to tell Roman how I feel," he joked, causing Remus to laugh. He smiled at his old friend warmly and pulled the emo into a tight hug. Virgil raised his eyebrows in surprise at this but soon hugged back.

"Thanks Virge," Remus said softly and Virgil smiled, knowing that he wouldn't see. "Just, one thing," he said again as he pulled away.

"Yeah?"

"About you and my brother." Virgil couldn't stop the blush creeping onto his cheeks. He cleared his throat and tried to compose himself, although he feared what would come next.

"...Yes?"

"You guys haven't fucked right-" There it was.

"REMUS!"

***

About two days after Remus and Virgil had had their conversation, Remus finally found his other half alone in The Imagination. He was sat under a tree humming quietly to himself with his eyes closed and letting the gentle breeze play with his chocolate brown hair. He looked so peaceful there alone that Remus almost turned away because he didn't want to disturb Roman, but it was now or never and he probably wouldn't get this opportunity again anytime soon. Hesitantly, he walked over to where the creative side was. Hearing the rustles in the grass, Roman opened his eyes and immediately stopped humming when he realised who was approaching him. He looked down quickly, trying to avoid eye contact and when Remus sat down by his side, he averted his gaze in the opposite direction. The two brothers sat in silence for a couple of minutes, both of them afraid of what to say, although one concealed it better than the other.

"Roman?" Remus finally said, but Roman continued to stare blankly into the distance even though his eyes weren't particularly focused on anything. "Roman. Roman please. Say something to me." Still, he got no reply. Looking up at the tree leaves above them, the duke remembered a fond memory. "This tree... it was our favourite one in The Imagination," he started as he looked to Roman hopefully for a reaction. Nevertheless, nothing. Roman refused to even look at him, yet Remus tried one last time. "I remember, I remember you accidentally pushed me off that branch once," he said as he pointed up into the luscious green leaves. "Then I brought you down with me. Patton had to bandage us up."

Realising that he was getting nowhere, Remus got up to leave, defeated and saddened. He was right. He should've just listened to himself. Of course Roman didn't want to speak with him. He should've just left him alone and save him all of this embarrassme-

"If I recall correctly," said a princely voice behind him, making Remus whip round instantly. "You pushed me off, and I yanked you down with me."

"What? No. I pulled you down, you-"

"No, no, no. You wanted to climb to the very top of the tree so I helped push you up but as we walked across the branch, you lost your balanced and out of instinct, you grabbed the thing nearest to you, which was my shirt, and pulled me down, causing me to fall with you," Roman replied firmly as he stood up with a smug smirk etched on his face. Remus laughed quietly and Roman smiled kindly, before placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Then, the dark creative twin swallowed and took a breath before asking his question.

"Roman, we were so close. What happened?" Roman's face dropped. Turning away, he fidgeted with his hands before coming back to face his brother, whose face was plastered with sadness, and possibly even guilt. Roman had never seen him so vulnerable and he hated himself for it, knowing he was the reason for all the pain.

"I don't know. Suddenly one day, I woke up and something was telling me that I couldn't see you anymore. It was like I was scolding myself for being with you all the time. But now I've been scolding myself for not spending time with you," the prince laughed. "How ironic."

"Oh, yeah. I know," Remus said in his signature voice, lifting the mood a bit. Confused, Roman looked up.

"You know?"

"Yeah. Virgil told me. He told me not to tell you but I told you anyway," he cheekily grinned. Although he was quite annoyed with Virgil for allowing his brother to hear about sensitivity, Roman couldn't help but smile when he noticed Remus' old antics return to him. The way he talked, the way he moved, the way he thought; Remus really was the side with no filter.

"Oh I'm gonna murder him," Roman gritted through his teeth. Hearing this, Remus' face lit up.

"I'll gladly help!" the duke offered mischievously, pulling out his morning star from behind his back. The other brother took out his sword and smirked with a raised eyebrow. This was the first time they had both brought out their weapons together for fun and a tsunami of nostalgia hit both of them like a storm; they could tell by the looks on each other's faces that they really missed this. Sighing contently, Remus offered out his hand for Roman to shake.

"Brothers?" But instead, Roman dropped his sword and pulled Remus into the first hug they had had in 20 years.

"Brothers."

"Just...one more thing," Roman said as he pulled away and Remus continued grinning. "Don't actually hurt Virgil. You know how I feel about him."

"No promises," Remus replied with a wink. "And yeah I know exactly how you feel about him." His brother nodded happily, satisfied with the answer. But the moment didn't last.

"And how you felt him," the duke giggled as he ran off.

"Wait R-Remus what? WhAT? REMUS WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?"

#sanders sides #fanfic #ficlet #Roman Sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #creativitwins #dukexiety #Platonic dukexiety #Fluff #THIS IS NOT REMROM #DO NOT TAG REMROM

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queertwilight · 4 years ago

Text

LETS BE HUMAN FOR A DAY

Pairing: Edward x Bella (others will appear as the story progresses and no not all are canon)

And yes the person you think is a witch is a witch in this

This was in my drafts, idk if I’ll continue I guess it depends on if it’s any good?

Part One: Eyes

“Green,” he says out of nowhere and Bella tilts her head slightly even though she’s lying on her bed and he can’t see her from this angle. They are currently lying on opposite sides of her bed with their heads close together, so she knows he can feel her head move in a silent question. “My eyes were green, when I was human.”

“Green,” she murmurs testing how it sounds in her mouth. She’s too close to his face to look him in the eye, but from her angle she can see half of his iris and imagines it turning green. “What kind?”

He makes a small noise of confusion, almost like a humph, and she smiles knowing he’s annoyed at not knowing her question. He says it’s her mind’s brilliance that makes him so curious to hear her thoughts but she’s rather grateful he can’t. He didn’t need to know the amount of days she has spent drawing golden irises in the margins of her math homework. He’d think she was insane. “Bella?”

“What do you mean, what kind of green?”

His voice brings her back and she blinks rapidly to try and distract from the heat she feels climbing her neck to color her face red. “What kind of green?” She replies, knowing if she answers fast enough he’ll forget to tease her about her blush. And it works like a charm, he furrows his eyebrows as he peers sideways at her. She wants to reach out and smooth the skin there. Revel in how soft and smooth something so cold can be, in how his eyebrow muscles relax automatically at her touch.

“Yeah,” she whispers in reply. Their voices are softer now, as they tend to get when discussing his human days. Days she can never be a part of, days she wishes she could grasp from his mind to brush away the hurt that comes into his velvet voice when he remembers his mother. If she could soothe his pain how she soothes his furrowed brow, she would without a second thought. “Moss green? Jade green? Grass green? Blue green?”

“Ah,” Edward sighs as he understands at last where her mind had drifted to. “I don’t remember mine very well but I remember everyone comparing them to my mother’s. Carlisle says they were emerald.”

Of course, Bella thinks, they had to be as brilliant as a gemstone. Even human, Edward was beautiful and she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for accidentally making him remember his mother. “They must have been beautiful, though I must admit I’m quite fond of golden myself.”

His quiet musical laughter shakes her bed, and her heart leaps at the joy she hears in it. That is until she realizes something, “Are you- I mean will you? Be fond of them too?” She stutters out the half question before realizing she could’ve just ruined the whole day. He didn’t particularly like remembering her decision to join him in becoming a vampire, and though they were better about communicating she still felt uneasy in mentioning it. The last time she had mentioned her transformation they had sat down and discussed how he would miss her heartbeat. It had been a moment of clarity for her, to realize that he loved her so much her heartbeat had become his personal version of a lullaby.

“What are you referring to?” His voice questions to her breaking her from her memories. Bella purses her lips, wondering if she should ask a different question, but the quirk in his eyebrow lets her know he can tell she’s plotting an escape. Even as she feels the apprehension rising in her stomach, she can’t help but smile slightly at how well they know each other.

“When,” she looks away and up towards the ceiling, “you change me. I know you’ll miss my eye color, you’ve said as much before. But will you learn to love my new eye color? Even before they turn gold, when they are still red? Or - I mean you don’t have to and please be honest don’t edit your answer to spare my feelings. I understand if you can’t - I know it will be a drastic change and I won’t force you to I mean we can completely ignore this in fact -“

“Bella,” his voice is firm but calm. She pauses in her rambling to see that he’s sitting against her pillows now with an easy crooked smile on his face. It makes her heart leap into her mouth and she swallows to try and get ahold of herself. It wasn’t fair how his smile still held the power to take her breath away or make her heart soar. His smile was home in its crookedness but just because it was home didn’t mean it wasn’t without its surprises. Sometimes she caught him smiling at her crookedly from the corner of her eye and the simple fact he looked at her like that without her always being aware of it caused her immense heart palpitations.

“Yeah?” Her voice wavers slightly but it’s not in fear of his anger. No, she knows him better now than to think he’s angry, besides his voice isn’t harsh or cutting when he says her name. Almost as if just the idea of saying her name in bitterness or reproach would burn his tongue, her name remains soft and warm in his mouth. His eyes aren’t clouded with anger or pain, they glisten in the late afternoon light with the curiousity she has often seen when he tries to disentangle her actions.

“Come here, love,” he says as he opens his arms to her, and she goes willingly. Settling at his side, curled so her legs rest on top of his, she sighs as he presses a gentle kiss to her hairline. “I think,” he begins as he sighs, “I may have inadvertently caused you some insecurity.”

“How?” She doesn’t glance up, instead she grasps his hand that lies on his stomach and begins to play with his fingers. Their coldness helping to ease her growing embarrassment. Bella knew she had insecurities, Edward knew she had them, hell most of the town new everyone else’s insecurities. Yet there is a difference between knowing someone’s insecurities and having them spelled out for you, especially by your lover. Edward sighs above her making her hair move and sending a small shiver down her spine. He chuckles as he hears her heart leap, her face reddens as she realizes she can’t blame the reaction on his coldness - not when it’s ninety-nine degrees outside and the humidity in her room is stifling.

“You seem to be under the impression I love your eyes more than you,” his voice is light but marred with a hint of worry. Of angering her? She doesn’t know, but she just continues to trace the outline of his fingers. “Bella, I love your eyes because they are yours. I’d love them if they were blue, green, grey, yellow,” he laughs a little before gently moving so that their fingers intertwine, “or red. I’m sorry I made you believe your eye color was more important than keeping you forever. Because it’s not Bella, your eyes aren’t what I care about keeping, it’s you.”

She closes her eyes against the onslaught of tears she feels collecting, her nose burning and itching as she fights to keep herself from whimpering. She didn’t know why she felt such relief, she knew Edward loved her and though he was difficult about the transformation she knew he wanted her forever. Yet here she was about to start blubbering because he had just eased a guilt she had unknowingly been carrying around in her chest for a while. The fear of taking away one more thing he loved. She bit her lip as she eased her breaths.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured “it’s silly to be crying I know. But I guess we’re alike that way, you want to give me things and I want to do the same for you. Changing my eye color...it’s so permanent - yes,” she says rolling her eyes as she peers up at him through blurry vision, “so is becoming a vampire but that’s different. I’ll still look like me just...more durable. I can’t make my eyes brown again. It’s just nice to know that even if they won’t be brown, you’ll love them.”

Edward barks out a laugh and she can’t help but feel thoroughly thrown off. Had she said something funny? “No you didn’t love. I’m sorry I’m not laughing at you.” Oh, she had spoken her question out loud, well that saved her having to figure it out on her own. She tilted her head so she could watch his laugh shake his body for a moment longer before he smiled down at her.

“Care to explain what was so funny?” Her eyes were almost completely dry but her nose still burned and her voice wobbled a bit.

“I feel like a right idiot,” he responds as he lets another small laugh take over, “no wonder you haven’t said yes to marrying me! I’m here whining about taking your soul and you’re guilt ridden over harming me with your transformation. Goodness, Alice was right we really should communicate about things more openly. I could’ve saved you so much heartache if I said I love you with and for everything you are,” he grows silent for a moment before adding, “and will be.”

Bella smiles. It’s the first time she has seen him smile at the mention of her impending vampirism and hearing his confirmation makes her shoulders drop as he continues, “how is it we’ve confessed our love for each other so many times yet forgotten the basics of ensuring we help each other through our insecurities? For the love of all that is holy, maybe Rosalie should have given me therapy sessions.” He sighs as he squeezes her hand, “maybe then I could be more forward in showing you that I am excited in having you forever by my side. Maybe if I were human I could feel secure in me being what you want.”

Edward’s smile was only a soft curve of his lips and Bella couldn’t help but feel the honesty of his words. And then it hit her - “That’s your insecurity? That you think you’re not ... enough?” Her eyes searched his, and for once she saw passed the walls he kept up and down into the worry that lined his eyes, the insecurities that made his brow furrow, the way fear locked his jaw in place.

“I wish we were on level ground, Bella. I don’t want you to have to adjust things for me or to be with me. I just want us to be Edward and Bella. You constantly compare yourself to how I look and it kills me to see how dejected you look. To know I’ve praised your human qualities so much you aren’t aware of how much I esteem your humor, your sarcasm, your wit, your inquisitiveness, your compassion, and your love. I’d give anything for you to see that even human me with terrible coordination, probably bad eyesight, and no social skills would want to marry you because I’m that sure I’d want you till my heart stops beating. Perhaps if I were human, you’d realize you’re my dream, too. That I’d change everything if it meant you not having to change for me. That I don’t want you to one day look back on this and hate me for not giving you all you deserve. I want to be enough for you for eternity.”

Her heart had never felt more love, as she stared up in realization that he was every inch the insecure teenager that she was. Her who constantly felt the need to try and appear like she belonged at his side was suddenly realizing he was trying just as hard to appear that he belonged with her. It made her throat tighten at the epiphany that this was what kept them from forever: themselves. He needed to know she would choose him regardless of what universe they met in, no matter in what life they had been born into, in what circumstance. She needed to know he loved her for her not just her human qualities like her heartbeat or blush but her personhood. And she knew just the way to do it. “Would you like to try?”

“Try?” His eyebrows rose in question as Bella’s smile morphed into its widest and giddiest form. He could practically feel her muscles tightening with the sudden spark of an idea her eyes held. He traced her features quickly, this, he thought silently, this is what she could give him forever - her smiles, her expressions, her radiance.

“To be human,” she replied as she scrambled to get off the bed. She began zipping around the room as he lay in the same position they had just been in curled up on his side slightly peering down at where she had lain. “For a day,” she turned after a few minutes, “be human with me. Then you can see I’m happily in love with you no matter what you are or who you are. Let me help ease your fears too. Please?” She walks to his side of the bed and holds out her hand for him to grasp, “Let me show you that you are enough.”

Bella swears the fireworks in her stomach erupted into masses of butterflies as Edward took her hand in his. “How?”

Bella smiles as Edward’s brow pinches in confusion as she proudly states her answer: “Angela.”

#twilight #edward cullen #bella swan #twilight renaissance #effervescent #twilight revival #twilight saga #twilight fanfiction #edbella #Edward x Bella #Bella x edward #bellward #twilight fanfic #angela Weber #idk what I’m doing I just got so bored guys #this was in my drafts??? will I continue it?? idk #angela webber #new moon #eclipse

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