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jak--ash · 7 months ago

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Massage- a Serirei fic

rated e for everyone, 1,495 words.

serizawa has pain and gets a massage from the best psychic hands of the century.

not proof-read, I just had to write and publish so I didnt get embarrassed. please be nice this is my first time writing fanfiction and is very self-indulgent. enjoy!

serizawa is a trans guy, which added to his isolation before leaving his old life. with the support of his mother, he was able to start hormones and he got top surgery a about a year and a half ago-the anniversary was celebrated at Spirits and Such. Because he transitioned during that time, he finds himself in a place of stealth though he's learning to be proud.

when serizawa met reigen, he found a gap in who he was now and who he saw himself as, in many ways. he was no longer working for claw, he was starting adult education, he had a steady job and new friends, along with a cute boss. he spent so long hating the world but now he felt like he had found a place for himself to be happy in.

serizawa is. deeply touch starved. isolation and dysphoria created a perfect storm inside him- too scared to let people touch him while desperately needing someone to force their way through to him. he could never voice those feelings though, desire always getting caught up in his throat and dying out before they reached his tongue, leaving nothing but an ache in his heart.

one day at work business was slow, which was usual. Serizawa was sipping a cup of mid-afternoon tea and going over some homework when Reigen stood from his desk to face the window and rub his eyes as serizawa kept taking notes. Reigen made his way to seri's desk with a smile and they chatted about what was new in serizawa's academic life.

"well, don't let me be the reason you stop your hard work," reigen said with a pat on serizawa's shoulder, and that's when he felt it- serizawa's shoulder was like granite. reigen tentatively brought his other hand to serizawa's other shoulder and gently squeezed, causing serizawa to suck in a breath between his teeth.

"woah, serizawa, you alright?" reigen wanted to start working out the muscle but figured he should get permission first, so he just kept his hands comfortingly on his shoulders.

Serizawa let out a nervous chuckle. "aha, I get that question a lot. my shoulders are always pretty tense and have been for years. when i was recovering from top surgery i think i hurt something in my left shoulder and neck, so it flares up. sorry, i didn't mean to scare you."

"don't apologize buddy. i'm sorry you're in pain. what if I gave you a massage? we don't have any reservations so we could close down for a little bit. besides, I need to keep my exorcism techniques limber. whaddya say?" reigen wiggled his fingers, dancing across serizawa's shoulders, making serizawa laugh again, softly, and nod. a massage from someone he loved sounded nice.

The two of them worked together to get the room prepared; flipping the "open" sign to "closed", wheeled out the massage bed, dimmed the lights, and turned on the salt lamp, essential oil humidifier, and white noise machine; Reigen wanted to go all-out for someone as special as Serizawa, who was currently in their office's bathroom changing into comfortable pants and removing his shirt. Reigen placed a glass of water for Serizawa on the side table and rummaged around for the oil he'd use for the massage. when serizawa returned, reigen found himself enamored with serizawa's body and drank it all up, eyes raking over his body hair around his tummy, chest, and arms. His scars were fading at this point, raised in some areas and stretched in others- they both frequently talked about how hot they were for it, along with serizawa's mismatched-sized nipples.

"I'm going to stretch a little bit first," serizawa said in a low voice, "I might make cracking sounds, but I'm fine," with that he began holding positions that extended his neck, jaw, shoulders, and arms, popping joints and sighing, groaning a bit with a good one. He got a little lost in his actions, stretching out his back and legs a bit too. Reigen just watched, wondering what he'd done to be blessed with such a beauty in front of him, and tried not to let his mind wander when serizawa let out soft groans carried by his sighs. Serizawa rolled his shoulders and nodded, climbing onto the massage bed and lying face-down. Technically, he could've sat in a chair for the massage, but he figured he'd be able to relax more if he felt somewhat covered up by laying down.

Reigen was snapped out of his stupor and got to work. he uncapped his lavender oil that he had been warming and let serizawa smell it, which earned him a chuckle. Reigen placed some of the warm oil across serizawa's shoulders, and got to work. "try to relax for me, okay?" he whispered, answered by a soft hum from the bottom side of the massage bed.

If he was honest, serizawa didn't know what he expected. he had been to a massage therapist twice before, but she would only do quick sessions, not enough to give him true relief. of course, he frequently massaged his own shoulders, but he could only do so much. This? was otherworldly. Reigen went slow, as if he wasn't just massaging, but visually and physically mapping out inner workings of serizawa. He worked the target areas with thoughtful yet firm fingers and palms just until serizawa was about to speak up about the pain, when he'd move to the surrounding areas and make sure there was no tension there either. It was alluring ebb and flow that serizawa felt himself getting lost in, forgetting all thoughts outside the caring touches easing his years-long pain. He let out a big sigh, and felt himself enter a state he didn't know he could enter sober.

"how are you feeling?" reigen whispered. he too had been lost in his hypnotic movements, obsessed with how he could feel some of the tension leaving the other man's body. his ears had been zoned in on serizawa's breathing, when its pace picked up as he worked the sore spots and how he was almost snoring when the tension disappeared.

"reigen," serizawa breathed dreamily, "don't stop yet, it feels good. my left arm is going a little numb though." For the second time, reigen cursed his dick for having a reaction to serizawa in a moment like this.

"I'm not going anywhere, don't worry," Reigen hummed. He slowly worked his way down serizawa's left trapezius, to his bicep, forearm, and finally his wrist and palm, earning a small groan from serizawa. Right before the urge to hold serizawa's hand overtook him, reigen moved back to serizawa's shoulders, giving him more attention now that he felt softer in the area.

"I think this is as much progress as we'll be able to make today, serizawa," reigen muttered as he continued to mindlessly rub down serizawa's back, not wanting the touch to end.

"hm, you're probably right," there was a soft silence as the two men kept basking in each other's company. the atmosphere was so welcoming and full of trust, it was hard to pull themselves away from it. "do I have to get up?"

Reigen tousled the head of hair still glued to the massage table and smiled. "No, but if you do, we can go get takoyaki." that piqued Serizawa's interest like reigen knew it would, making him rise. Serizawa's face was adorable; smushed from how he was laying, and relief painted all over. he reminded reigen of young kittens who wake up disgruntled from deep naps. Serizawa moved his shoulders around a bit and hummed.

"thank you, deeply. that was amazing."

"don't worry about it. now that i know, this won't be the only time i help you. whenever you want, tell me you want another and I'll give it to you, okay?" Reigen knew Serizawa was still working on letting his needs be known, but he didn't need serizawa to know in that moment how he already fully intended to check in on serizawa periodically and ask if he could rub him down again.

"I will, thank you. I'll go get dressed for takoyaki now." Serizawa stood, sharing one more smile with Reigen before going back to the bathroom to change again.

In the following months, the two of them found a routine they both liked for massages. Serizawa did start to ask for them, which helped spur his confidence. the physical relief serizawa was getting allowed him to do more for pain management, such as yoga and exercise (mob gave him some workouts to help strengthen those muscles). Eventually he needed them less often for pain outside of flare ups, but he kept finding himself asking reigen for them because how good it felt to just be close. of course, reigen always obliged.

With each touch, serizawa felt his fears melt away, until he finally started to feel like he was beyond his past.

#fun fact every detail about serizawa's transition and loneliness are just me projecting lol if anyone couldnt tell #also the pain/location #what i wouldnt give for a hot man who loves me to massage my pain away #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #serirei #reigen arataka #serizawa katsuya #trans!serizawa #trans serizawa #fanfic

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sunny-mercya · 1 year ago

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Feverish Dance

Edmund Pevensie x Male Reader

Masterlist

On your voyage to find Aslan again and help Caspian dethroning his Uncle and bringing peace to Narnia—freeing the land from Miraz clutches—you had come across an abandoned Castle. By the looks of the size from it, it probably has once belonged to an Earl or Duke. Now for the time being, how ever long this will be and take. this would be your new provisional home.

Susan, Lucy and you ventured through another section of the castle. Long empty hallways and corridors, forgotten and dusty. Most of the rooms had been barricaded or locked, making it hard to find a open one—a one for use.

When sunset had begun every so slowly, dunking the lands with an orange hue—kissing it good night—you three had found another room, which was unlocked. A ballroom, a grand one—where all dreams of the nights could come true—once a magnificent place, but now filled with cobwebs lingering over the furniture with it's muddy, decaying and damp spots. Signs of being not used over the centuries, decades perhaps even.

«Imagine all the grand grandiose banquets which had been held in here!» mused Lucy with excitement out, skipping further into room and touching one of the silk like robes—now shredded with holes in it by moths—and swings it around with a twirl.

«Don't touch too much in here Lu, you might could get sick.»

«Oh Susan, where would all the fun be, when we don't and risk a bit,»

You snickered a bit at Lucy's reply. Deciding to explore the room like her too. You had to agree with Lucy, this ballroom here had probably witness a endless festival night after night, when the castle—perhaps even the years itself—had been in its glory.

~~~

The last bit of Sun-rays peeked through the cloud filled sky, through the windows and into the room. The natural light was still enough to see without any extra light source, though Susan had already begun to lit up some torches.

Despite your excitement, your adventurous rush of curiosity you had—while rummaging through the chests and the mostly covered furniture, getting more than once off track distracted by Lucy—who started at one point to play pretend, telling possible stories of how festive the nights in here could've been—you felt a constant pull of exhaustion tugging at your body.

Like a demanding child the exhaustion keeps tugging at you and bringing your body into a sluggish waving. Feeling heavy with muscles aching, ready to take a nap everywhere and anywhere even when it would be on the hard ground.

A lingering feeling, one of the kinds you couldn't describe, deep down in the core—the far back—of your body and mind, like a minimal headache—which pounds on your skull as if it was a door and till it feels like your skull would crack apart, splitting into two like bread but with crunch to it.

Lucy watches you with concern, once you stopped in your tracks with whatever you were about to do. Standing completely still like a statue, looking off into empty spaces.

Your complexion, perhaps it was because of the torchlights flickering flames and the last few sun ray's, looked more pale—ashen even—than it should be. The way you rubbed over your face, digging the palms of your hands into your eyes, were clear signs for Lucy that you weren't feeling all that well at all.

«Are you feeling alright [Name]?» Lucy asked with concern, a bit hesitantly. She didn't got a answer right away, not verbal at least. Susan gave her sister a questionable eyebrow raise, not sure herself if she would wait the situation out or get Edmund—preferable, since the two of you has a close connection—and the others.

«I'm fine, Luce. Just a bit of a headache» you mumbled it more, incoherently, than you intended to, but your mouth and tongue felt like cotton.

A groan left your lips, dry they felt now and no amount of licking over them would help it. Goosebumps racked through your body, tingling your spine, as flashes of cold and warmth at the same came over you.

«You should sit down [Nickname],» Lucy feared it might have been the small wound, which you have acquired on the way, being infected now. Though the last time they checked over it, mere hours ago at the crack of dawn, it seemed nothing to worrisome. Trying to persuade you to sit down, to take a break.

Lucy couldn't comprehend the next minutes within. Standing there and the next you twirled and spun her through the room.

«Do you hear this Lucy?»

«No? What do you hear?»

«The music! Oh, Lucy! Those wonderful music, I haven't heard in so long!»

Your eyes brimmed with tears, laughing carefree, having longed to hear such wonderful music and brought your heart into a joyful burst.

Ever since the start of the War, ever since Great Britain is been targeted of German bombing, you weren't able to listen to the music—from a long forgotten decades—you loved so much in so long and at all. A rarity it had been.

Missed to dance to it, as your practices had been cut short to the bare minimum, twirling through the room like there was no tomorrow, to their fast—sometimes slow—uplifting, joyfully—romanticisation, theatrical and deeply sorrow filled—sonority.

Oh, this was Mozart's Alla Turca. Offenbachs Overture to Orpheus next and then, Tchaikovskys Trépak.

You loved them all, loved every single piece.

~~~

When Susan had come to get him, telling him that you weren't feeling well, Edmund hadn't expected it to be like this. He once had read, in one of the history books out of boredom, about the Dance Plague from 1518 and somehow this reminds Edmund of you—your current doing as if you had this ominous mysterious plague caught yourself.

Edmund saw you dance more than once. He knew every single steps of the waltzes and choreographies you had done, had went to every practices, recitals and performance you did. Had been your partner for these every so often.

There were only a few, handful of people—Edmund being one of them—which could keep up with your fast-spacing dashing of dancing—like a lightning you could and would twirl around, jumping high like stars in the night sky and being a hurricane like storm and yet, so gentle and delicately at the same time—and catching you seemed a impossible task.

You had letting go of Lucy, who felt nauseous from so much dancing—even though she loved it as much as you—long ago and she watches you with still presenting amaze, even though she too had been to your practices more than once.

«Ed! Ed! Come and dance with me! Brahms Hungarian Dance had always been one of my favourite» you had taken hold of your boyfriends hands, waltzing with him through the room and getting faster with the passing seconds.

Perhaps you were getting sick, having catch a possible flu. Perhaps it is the nervousness and stress or perhaps, you finally have lost your mind all at once—like one of your distant aunts.

But the music is so wonderful and magnificent. You couldn't stop, wouldn't, even when your muscles were aching so painful and burning like fire.

To dance was like the blood in your veins. Needed to make your body function, to keep you alive.

Then, the above, seemed to tip and darkness crashed over you.

~~~

Edmund daps the sweat from you forehead, keeping your face cool with a cold dunked cloths. A high fever you had, making you squirming uncomfortable on the bed.

In your moments of being wake, you mumbled incoherently gibberish, smiling and telling Edmund about moon and stars before dozing off again.

A relief it was that your wound didn't infected itself, as far as they could tell. So you being current bedridden with a fever was indeed, probably, because of nothing but stress.

Funny, just—in sense of earth time, since Narnia's time goes and pass differently—hours ago you had treated one of Edmunds scraps, which he had gotten during his and Peter's small fight with others boys and now it was him to take care of you.

A groan came over your lips, turning more onto your side, bleary open your eyes and glancing at Edmund.

«Tea Time........noon......Tchaikovsky....»

«Sure love, after some naps»

«....with em...?»

«If you want,»

Edmund laid next to you on the bed, taking you in his arms. For someone with a high fever, you felt icy cold. He pulls you even closer, humming a bit of a tune—one of the nursery ones—hand racking through your hair, ever so softly—like you would do to him, when he has one of his anger bursting days—when you hide your face in the crook of his neck.

«When you feel better,» a kiss to the crown of your hair he gives you,

«we could dance one of those waltzes you like so much, just you and me love» Edmund gave you another kiss, this time on the lips. Closing his eyes and slowly he too, drifts into the world of dreams.

~~~

«Ed's soo smitten with [Nickname], I told you he has a soft spot» snickers Lucy—leaving the part "for him" out and keeping it for herself—quietly closing the door and walking away.

«Luce, they're both are.» corrects Peter, walking with her.

#male reader #x male reader #chronicles of narnia #edmund pevensie #edmund x male reader #edmund pevensie x male reader #oneshot #fluff #malereader #narnia

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beauty-grace-outer-space · 1 year ago

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I found this random little ficlet I had been working on literally years ago, and I don't know where to take it from here, so have it as is:

“Shit, shit, shit-- son of a bitch--” Len huffed as he eased himself down onto the biobed with the help of Spock’s arm around his waist, held low so as not to aggravate his aching side.

Jim, rushing to the nearest cabinet and rummaging through it for supplies, called over his shoulder indignantly, “Bones! There’s a lady present!”

“And that lady,” Uhura shot back, “knows how to curse in 37 different dialects, Kirk. So unless you’re suddenly claiming innocent ears--”

“Touché.”

“Captain,” Spock chimed in, “the doctor appears to be in a fair amount of pain. Should we not--”

“The doctor,” Len panted, “can damn well hear you, thank you very much!”

Spock looked momentarily chagrined before continuing, “Forgive me, doctor, I only wished--”

“Lay off, Bones. He’s just trying to help,” Jim said, still rifling in the cabinet for some binding.

“Some supplies would help,” Len growled. “A functional medbay would help. But no--” he drawled out the word. “We get stuck in the middle of an electrical interference right as I go and break my damn ribs.”

Jim smiled ruefully over his shoulder, “Sorry, Bones. I know it sucks, but we’ll do the best we can until Scotty gets things functional again. Luckily for you, I have experience with wrapping ribs--”

“If you can ever find the bandages,” Uhura cut in.

“Hey,” Jim cried, affronted, “I’m doing the best I can here!”

“Captain, perhaps I might be able to assist--”

“I’ve got it, Spock, you just… keep him from getting any grumpier.”

“I ain’t grumpy,” Len corrected. “I’m injured, you corn fed brat.”

“And pain makes you grumpy. Good to know,” Jim replied easily, crying out in triumph as his hand closed around the roll of bandages at last.

Len snorted as Jim made his way over with the bandages, rolling his eyes. “Experience wrapping ribs… yeah, holding the end while I do the wrapping maybe. You’ve broken ribs five times, kid, and I’ve treated you each and every time.”

“Six,” Jim corrected with a smug grin, as he placed the roll on the end of the bed. “I’ve broken my ribs six times-- that you know of.”

“Bruised is not broken,” Len countered.

Jim shrugged. “Potato, po-tah-to”

“Absolutely not the same thing!” Len scoffed, before Uhura ended their squabbling by throwing her hands into the air.

“Enough! For the love of-- Spock, grab those scissors, will you?”

“Certainly,” replied the Vulcan, retrieving a pair of silver scissors from a nearby workbench and handing them to her. She made quick work of cutting away Len’s shirt to avoid having to pull it off over his head, stretching his ribs and causing more pain for himself.

Jim, having been usurped from his previously self appointed duty of wrapping the bandages as Uhura’s nimble fingers made quick work of it, sat in a nearby chair, straddling it backwards and resting his chin on his hands with a soft chuckle.

“You would break your ribs in the shower, Bones.”

Len met his eye with a glare, trying desperately not to move as his torso was bound.

“You broke yours falling down the stairs because you were carrying too many books your second year at academy. Don’t even talk to me about dumb reasons.”

Uhura paused in her ministrations, biting her lip against a laugh so she didn’t jar his ribs; Spock raised a brow in Jim’s direction.

“All in the pursuit of knowledge, Bones,” Jim replied flatly, his expression never changing.

“All in the pursuit of that girl you got partnered with in your strategies class,” Len shot back.

Jim waggled his brows with a lewd smile. “All in the pursuit of knowledge, Bones,” he repeated.

“Carnal knowledge does not count, Kirk,” Uhura interjected, though it did nothing to dampen the smug smirk on Jim’s face.

Len scowled at him with a disapproving scoff, wincing as his ribs protested the push of air. “You’re a child.”

“Ok, grandpa,” Jim replied with a shit eating grin. "I hate you," Len deadpanned. "You sure are a sweet talker, Bones." Jim was barely suppressing a laugh now. "I'm gonna tell everyone here how you broke your ribs the third time." Jim paled, eyes widening dramatically. "You wouldn't." "Try me." "Doctor patient confidentiality!" Jim whispered dramatically. "Did you see any forms to sign at--" "Ok, ok!" Jim cried, waving his hands and a desperate attempt to keep him from continuing. "Point taken!" It was a silent for a few long moments as Uhura tied off the bandages before she innocently said, "Was that the time you slipped off the pier because you were distracted by--" "How do you know about that?" Jim groaned in disbelief. Uhura shrugged. "Gaila talks." At this point, Jim was so flustered he couldn't even form words. He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, half started consonants escaping every so often before he finally settled on: "This is insubordination!" To which Spock replied, "Captain, if it were against regulation to mention any time you have been injured I fear no one aboard would ever dare speak again." Len wasn't quick enough to bite back the bark of laughter that comment prompted. He wheezed painfully and clutched at his side, biting back his chuckles in vain. "Ow." "That's what you get," Jim crowed, smirking. "Alright, children," Uhura grumbled, waving her hands dismissively. "Get out of here before I strangle you all." "Spock," Jim whined. "She's threatening a senior officer. Two, in fact!" Spock pointedly looked away. "I heard no such threats, Captain. My apologies." "You can't kick me out of my own medbay," Len pointed out, rising carefully to his feet.

Uhura merely arched a brow at that remark.

"C'mon, Bones," Jim sighed, grasping his elbow carefully. "Let's go before she breaks your other ribs." "If you think for a single second I'm traipsing through this tin can without a shirt, you've got another thing coming," Len grumbled, even as he let Jim lead him away. "I ain't you." They bickered all the way back to his quarters, where Len was situated on the couch and Jim set about cleaning up the damp spots still on the bathroom floor from where he had slipped earlier. "So," Len asked after a long moment of silence. "Six times that I know of, huh?" "Yup," Jim called, still out of sight. Len heard him shuffling about as he laid towels down to catch the small puddles of water. "Gonna tell me about those other times?" He asked cautiously. "Mmm," Jim hummed. "Maybe. Someday." Len sighed. "Do I want to know?" "Probably not." Len could hear the smirk in his voice. Running a hand over his face he groaned, "You're exhausting." "Nah," Jim droned, rounding the doorframe and leaning against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're just exhausted." "You can say that again." The pain had dulled some, but the sudden adrenaline and residual crash had really taken it out of him. Jim was beside him, then, helping him to turn horizontal on the couch and shoving pillows behind him to allow him to recline partially upright, keeping the pressure off his ribcage. It was odd, being on the other side of things for a change. "Get some rest, Bones," Jim said quietly once he was situated. "If at all possible, you're off duty until we get the osteo-regenerators up and running again. Captain's orders." Bones saluted lazily. "Aye aye, Captain." Sounded good to him.

#ficlet #star trek #star trek aos #star trek 2009 #jim kirk #spock #uhura #bones #leonard mccoy #bones breaks his ribs #broken bones #shenanigans

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whisker-biscuit · 1 year ago

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SlyFox Day 6: Safe

Pt 2/2

-----------------------------------------

By some miracle, they weren’t caught by whoever had gotten the drop on Cooper. They made it outside safely and Inspector Fox felt like she could breathe again by the time they were two blocks away. The raccoon practically draped over her had lost his awareness again sometime during their escape, and was struggling to keep his eyes open. He only stumbled forward because she kept hissing in his ear to not stop moving.

She should have just taken him straight to the police. Dragged his scrawny, drugged tail to the nearest station and dumped him in the lobby for someone else to deal with while she was congratulated for a job well done. Went on her merry way and left him to detox in a jail cell, awaiting trial and a lifetime behind bars.

That was what she should have done. That was what she was supposed to do.

Instead, Carmelita found herself struggling to get the door to her house unlocked with a dazed thief hanging off her neck like a life-size plushie. She rationalized, as she finally got them both inside and out of sight from potential onlookers, that her home was simply closer than any police station yet still secure, and thus a perfectly acceptable segue to his future as a captured criminal.

She told herself this logic over and over, more firmly each time, as she carefully laid Cooper down on her living room couch and went rummaging in her bathroom cabinet for anything that might help get whatever was in his system out a little faster.

The handcuffs around his wrists stayed on, though. She wasn’t that much of an idiot.

Eventually, the fox realized that without knowing what he’d had, giving him another cocktail of chemicals was playing a dangerous game. Instead, after taking off her jacket and arming herself with an empty bucket, she returned to his side with a determined grimace.

“Up, Ringtail,” she said, lightly slapping at his cheeks until his eyelids fluttered open. “Come on, no sleeping yet. We need to purge those drugs from your system.”

He groaned and tried to curl in on himself away from her. It would have been annoying if his body refusing to fully cooperate hadn’t made him fail miserably at it. Carmelita sighed and gently grabbed him at the back of his neck, pulling him forward until his head hovered over the bucket. He barely acknowledged the new position.

“Cooper, I need you to listen to me.”

“…Mm…”

“Sly.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, making eye contact with her with visible struggle.

“Do you remember how you were drugged? Was it ingestion or injection?”

“Nnn…”

The complicated words were lost on him. She prayed for patience and tried again. “Did they make you drink or eat something that tasted bad?”

“N-no, th’y…th’y…”

It was bizarre to see him fighting the haze in his head just to answer a single question. She had never seen him in a state like this before – and she was starting to realize she hoped she never would again.

“Th’y g’t me w’th a…” The raccoon couldn’t seem to find the right term, and tried instead to mime stabbing himself with something. His bound hands flailed but somehow completed the motion.

“They got you with a needle?”

“Yeah!” He brightened, if only for a moment, happy to be understood. “Yeah, th’se.”

Well, that made her immediate plan a lot easier, and her long-term one a lot harder. The inspector sat back on her heels as she considered what to do next. Making him throw up wouldn’t help him detox if it was already in his bloodstream, which meant she didn’t have to go through with what she’d been dreading to, and she set the bucket aside.

But he was still drugged, and very vulnerable, and she didn’t know how long it would take for his body to flush out the poison coursing through his veins. It could take half an hour. It could take half a day.

She could very well be harboring a criminal in her own home for an entire day.

The thought was a sucker-punch to her gut. Carmelita gave a sharp inhale, suddenly terrified of what might happen if someone caught wind of what she was doing. Forget losing all her cases – she could lose her entire job over this.

It was enough to make her stand up abruptly and start pacing with her hands clenched tightly at her sides. Cooper, the frustrating object of her crisis, sank back down into the couch cushions and watched her move back and forth with a cloudy gaze that couldn’t quite keep up.

“C’rml’ta?”

“What?” She snapped, voice almost a shout in her frustration.

“Th’nks. You s’ved me.”

The gratitude threw her for a loop; not because the thief wasn’t capable of it, but for the fact that he was aware enough to realize what she’d done for him. The fox turned towards him, staring at the way he looked like a kicked kit, and heaved a giant sigh.

“It was nothing, Ringtail,” she said without any real emotion. “I’m just doing my job. Besides, we both know you would’ve been lost a long time ago without me.”

He blinked at her rather dopily before a large, silly smile broke out across his face. Then, without any more preamble, he closed his eyes and promptly passed out.

Carmelita wanted to hate herself for caving to Cooper’s manipulation once again, but she couldn’t quite summon the necessary anger. Instead, she simply draped a blanket over him and left him alone. She’d figure out what to do next after he woke up.

She never got the chance.

When she came back into the living room two hours later, Cooper was gone and the window was ajar. The notepad on the coffee table was covered in slightly-messy handwriting and another page had been torn out to make origami of a very familiar symbol.

Carmelita carefully picked up the impromptu calling card in one hand and the note in the other, and began to read.

Inspector Fox,

Thanks for the rescue and hospitality. You treated me well when you didn’t have to, and I appreciate it. Sorry to cut and run without a proper goodbye, but I think I’ve put you in a difficult position for long enough today.

P.S. Keep an eye out on that club in the next week or so. Might be a chance for you to make a major bust soon.

~ Sly

The inspector slowly sat onto the couch, clutching the paper tightly as she read and reread the note. After a few minutes of processing the fact that she’d let Cooper escape, again, because of her bleeding heart, she rubbed her eyes, stood back up, and made a beeline for her bedroom where her shock pistol was waiting on her nightstand. She didn’t know how much of a head-start the thief had gotten, but she wasn’t going to let it stop her when there was still a chance to catch up.

And if both the note and calling card ended up in that nightstand drawer during her rush to go after him, well.

That was her secret to keep.

#slyfox #slyfoxweek #sly cooper #carmelita fox #fanfiction

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 1 year ago

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Cloud City, Chapter Ten - a Malevolent AU

Parker, thinks Arthur, because it is Parker, because Parker’s never been nice, and after today’s little episode they were over, but he was a detective, he’d solved murders, he was one of the good guys, and now...

AO3 || Masterpost

--------

Arthur stays low, creeping on stocking feet. Asenath was right—behind him, through that right-hand door, he hears voices chatting and phones ringing. In front of him is quiet. Too quiet.

His concern had been that some other prisoner might rat him out, but there is no one in the other cells. Which is… odd. He can't fathom what it means.

There’s another door at the end of the hall, locked. Happily, his lock picks are in his bag, and it only takes about forty seconds to open to reveal a storage room. If there’s no exit through here, he’s fucked, and he knows it, but what other choice does he have? Arthur closes the door behind him, quiet as anything, and looks.

There’s light further down and to the left. Maybe a window?

Voices suddenly rise behind him, as if the door to the station proper opened. Someone is coming down that hall.

"Shit," he whispers.

Easy, says Hastur. They’re coming to fetch something from evidence, which is where you are.

“They keep evidence near lockup?” Arthur whispers, already hurrying between shelves, trying to find a place to hide in the dark.

I never said they were smart. Ahead, the shelves end. Turn left. The lighting is shit in here. If you press yourself between the last filing cabinet and the wall, you should remain unseen.

“How do you know this?” Arthur whispers.

Not my first time in this building.

Just how much had Hastur gotten up to when Arthur was out?

The door opens.

Move! Hastur hisses.

Arthur can't make out what they're saying as he rushes, finding the filing cabinets against the wall. There is just enough room—just—for him to push himself between the wall and the final cabinet, but it is far from comfortable.

Arthur does not like confined spaces. He breathes through his mouth, trying not to panic, not to give himself away.

“You sure it’s over there?” says one copper.

“Sure. I put it there myself," says the other.

He knows their voices. That’s Acey (Adam Araszkiewicz, but nobody calls him that), and he’s nice. The other guy is Dutton, who can be a prick, but at least he’s always fair.

“Sick of this,” mutters Dutton, and then comes the sound of boxes being opened and paperwork rummaged through.

They are not looking for paperwork, Hastur whispers slowly.

“Ugh,” said the Dutton. “Better not open that.”

“Lemme see. Asshole, that’s not the right one,” saus Acey. More shuffling, papery sounds, boxes being dropped on the floor. Arthur frowns. It doesn't sound like they're being… careful. Maybe that's the wrong word, but—

A box tumbles from between the shelves and falls, spilling its contents of evidence and who knows what else, sliding papers all over the floor.

No one moves to pick it up.

This isn’t right, Hastur murmurs. Take out the glass of Leng. I haven’t had a chance to properly train you to use it, but your base skill should be enough to at least make use of its power.

Arthur can’t ask him what the fuck he’s talking about. He gives himself the middle finger (knowing damn well Hastur will understand the intended target), then very carefully pulls out the heavy piece of glass.

Hold it up to my eye. Good.

This feels so stupid.

Oh, Arthur, Hastur breathes. She was right.

Instinctively, Arthur reangles the glass so he’s looking through it instead of Hastur. For a moment, it's just blur, like trying to see through frosted glass; then suddenly, he sees. Through the shelves. Close-up and clear, as though he’s standing right in front of them.

The coppers have abandoned their uniforms.

They’re naked. Something that looks a lot like blood is drying all over them in with runes or letters Arthur doesn’t know, and both of them are—

He starts to shake. Both of their throats are cut, clean through. Neither should be walking around. Neither should be talking.

They don't move like dead things, which Arthur had seen as a child, staggering in from the Wastes, and never wanted to see again. They just moved like themselves, and that somehow makes it all worse. Acey kicks another box over. “Fuck it. He’ll just have to come in here and find it himself.”

“I don’t really wanna go back out there with him in the mood he’s in,” mutters Dutton.

“He’ll be pissed if we take too long, either way,” says Acey.

“Pissed, I can handle. Murderous? Not so great. Come on. It just got misfiled, is all.”

They move to the next shelf—which Arthur sees through just as easily, thanks to that glass—and continue roughly searching. It's obvious neither man cares any longer what is where, or if evidence stays with paperwork, or anything else. They're acting like none of it will ever matter again.

Arthur. I can’t see.

Hastur could always see through his eyes before.

This isn't the same way I can see through the eye I’ve taken. It’s like trying to peer through a dirty window. I need the glass of Leng.

Arthur stiffens.

No, I’m not reading your thoughts, Arthur. I just know you very, very well. Please let me see. Arthur’s left hand waits, open, for the glass of Leng, as though that hand belongs to someone else.

Which it does. Jaw tight, Arthur hands it over.

Thank you. I know how hard being silent is for you. Hastur sounds amused.

Arthur flips him off again.

“There it fucking is! Told you it was just misfiled,” says Dutton.

“Where, let me—wrong hand, jackass.”

“What?”

Hastur holds out the glass.

So this will be a proper partnership. Arthur takes the glass and looks.

Both men are bent over a box, uncaring as to their nudity and the brown flakes of blood peppering the carpet around them, staring at a severed hand in a stained bag.

“It’s gotta be,” says Dutton.

“No, this one’s all—look, it was fucking fingerprinted. This isn’t the cousin’s.”

“Damn it.”

“Keep looking. Maybe one of the other hands’ll be connected enough to use.”

Arthur’s thighs are beginning to cramp.

Steady. They need the right hand because it will be a body part connected to their next murder victim.

Arthur tenses.

Calm. You can’t prevent anything. It’s done.

Arthur isn't sure about that.

More boxes fly. The coppers are angry now, Acey dumping boxes on the floor, Dutton just kicking them with abandon. The mess they are making is unbelievable, and at this point, there is no denying they have no plans to pick it up.

They don't think there will be a need to pick it up. Rot-gods must not need police departments.

Arthur slips a little. His crouch is unsustainable.

Steady! Hastur whispers.

“Godsdamn it, snaps Acey, flinging his painted arms in the air. “Where the hell is it?”

“You don’t think somebody took it, do you?” says Dutton.

“Who the hell would take it? How would anybody know it was here? Use your damn head,” says Acey, as mean as Arthur has ever heard him be.

The door opens. “There a problem?” says Parker, and walks right in.

Parker.

Parker walks right in, nude, painted. Parker walks right in and scowls not as a man who is surprised to find coworkers engaged in weirdness, but just as an annoyed superior, dealing with incompetence.

Parker. It is Parker. It is—

Hastur’s left hand reaches across Arthur’s chest as though keeping him back, as though holding him together. Arthur needs it. He has forgotten how to breathe.

“Uh,” says Dutton.

“You haven’t found the fist.”

“Uh,” Dutton says again.

“We found a fist,” says Acey, then seems to realize levity won’t fly and shrinks into himself.

“Wasn’t filed right,” Dutton mutters at Parker’s knees (Parker? It is Parker? How could it be—)

“Sure.”

“Look, we’ll find it,” Dutton says, gesturing. “It’s gotta be in one of the—”

Parker grips Dutton around his torn throat and lifts him with the ease of a coffee mug. Leverage? Doesn’t matter. Physics? Doesn’t matter, and it is Parker, and his scowl is the same.

“Shit,” says Acey.

Hastur does not whisper steady or anything else, and Arthur knows why, and realizes with a deeply unpleasant shock he finally believes his Summon. Parker can hear him. Parker has been after something the whole time. Arthur would make a good vehicle, and Parker has kept an eye on him ever since Arthur got his Summon, which showed he’d make a good vehicle. Parker had known that seventy-eight murders mattered on the way to eighty-one when Arthur hadn’t told him that. Parker is—

With the same casual strength Parker’s shown in glimpses, he tosses Dutton, who hits the wall with a bad crunch and slides to the floor.

“So,” says Parker. “I’m trying to follow the logic here. We are down to days of usability for the vehicle, and you two fuckheads are in here saying you can’t find the fist.”

Arthur's heart hurts, sharp and terrible.

“We will!” says Acey, hands up.

“In time?” says Parker. “Because I can fucking tell you He’s going to be pissed already, down one eye and one hand.”

He. The Defiler.

“We got it,” Dutton gripes, sounding like a whole-ass butcher shop as he clambers to his feet with horrible, wet, cracking sounds, snapping his back straight again, locking his head back in place. The fingers were last, bending back the right way, curving and snicking.

“You better. You’ve got one more hour, then I’m fucking sacrificing you both and sending in Tormay and Sims.”

Acey groans. “Come on, Yang, don’t be an ass.”

“We. Are out. Of time. Get it together,” Parker growls (a tone Arthur has heard so many times, so many ways), and marches back out.

Cursing, Dutton starts searching again, but more slowly.

“Where could it have been misfiled?” Acey mutters. “Maybe first name instead of last name, or…”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” says Dutton, holding up another stained bag, and they both laugh.

“‘F’ for ‘fist!’” Acey laughs as they head for the door. “What fucking idiot…”

“Gotta go punch ‘em in the nuts for it, whoever it was,” Dutton agrees.

“‘N’ for ‘nut-punch!’” says Acey, and still laughing, they leave.

The door closes.

Arthur stops trying and slides onto his ass, still squished between cabinet and wall, feeling like maybe he can’t think, or stand, or function.

I’m sorry, Arthur, says Hastur.

Some part of Arthur knows that is a concession on Hastur’s part. That he has every right to say, I told you so, and might have even done so on a normal day.

It is a concession to the fact that Arthur is not okay. An admission to Arthur’s pain. (Maybe the last five years affected Hastur, too. Maybe it really was more than just a Contract. Maybe—)

We need to go, Arthur.

“They,” Arthur whispers, and swallows. “Don’t we need to stop them? In here? Whatever they’re doing?”

Without you here, whatever they do is pointless, Hastur says. We need to get you far away, at least for the next few hours. After that…

“His throat wasn’t cut,” Arthur whispers.

A pause. No. It wasn’t.

“Parker’s throat wasn’t cut,” Arthur says again.

Arthur. Focus. You need to get out of here.

“And they obviously considered him in charge,” says Arthur.

Hastur sighs.

“So,” says Arthur. “So.”

The window is up and to the left. You may have to move something underneath it to reach it, but if we go now, we should be able to get out before they start whatever they’re doing.

“So I need to use the knife,” says Arthur, who has not moved, who feels dangerously close to hysterical laughter.

If we are here when they start the ceremony, Arthur, we could be trapped. They’re using the Revelations of Gla’aki. The place will be locked down. Arthur, we need to go.

“So I’ll just fuck him up with the knife,” Arthur says a little too loudly. “No problem. That’ll solve everything, and just serve me right, because why the fuck would somebody decent have been interested in me, anyway, and when I have ever made a good choice ever in my life, right? Right?”

Hastur sighs. Arthur. I appreciate your painful introspection, but we need to go.

“Do I leave her here?” says Arthur, finally beginning to shift forward. “I mean, hey, maybe I’m wrong about her, too! Hell, maybe I’m wrong about everything! Maybe my daughter wasn’t even real. Maybe I’m not. Maybe I was conjured from junk on the bottom of someone’s shoe, or something, and all my memories are a lie!”

Arthur. You’re getting loud.

Arthur shuts up, but makes no effort to leave. The cabinet is on the right. Hastur can’t grab it to pull them forward. Arthur. Take a moment. Close your eyes. Breathe.

Arthur makes one small sound.

Let Asenath fulfill her choice. Otherwise, you make her potential sacrifice pointless.

Arthur is silent.

You’re still all right, Hastur says, smoothly. We’re going to leave this place and not give them the chance to call the Defiler into your body. Then we will act before they can regain the upper hand.

Arthur is silent.

You will save so many little girls with this, Arthur. Like your daughter.

“That’s a fucking low blow,” Arthur finally murmurs.

I do not plan for us to die here because of his betrayal, Hastur says. Instead, I wish to see him pay for it.

Arthur is silent for a long moment. “Thank you for not saying, ‘I told you so.’”

This… goes beyond gentle teasing, says Hastur, and then added something odd, as if to himself. I regret that at the end, you must be lost, Arthur. I’d prefer otherwise.

Arthur wipes his eyes. “Well,” he whispers. “Spilled milk.”

Spilled milk. Indeed.

Arthur finally squeezes loose. It takes him a minute to lift and move some still-full filing boxes under the window without making noise, but he manages. Beyond the tiniest squeak when the window opens, he is silent as he pulls himself up, wriggles through, and falls out into the alley below.

(chapter eleven)

#malevolent #malevolent big bang 2023 #malevolent fanfic #arthur lester #hastur malevolent #malevolent au #cloud city fic #parker yang #asenath waite #trans asenath waite #trans woman

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forever-rogue · 3 years ago

Note

Okok I know Steven needs sleep but waking him up at 3 am just to ask of he still likes you even though they're married sweet boy would literally stare for s few seconds straight to process the question 😂

"Please tell me, this is not why you woke me up." with Steven pretty pls

AN | Please I love this idea so much 🥰 Enjoy!

Pairing | Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

Warnings | None

Word Count | 1.2k

Masterlist | Main, Moon Knight

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

You huffed lightly as you rolled onto your back to stare at the ceiling. The pale moonlight coming through the sheer curtains was just enough to cast shadows of the tree branches on the ceiling. You knew it was nothing, but you still didn’t like them either. You rolled onto your other side and found that Steven had his back to you. Of course he would manage to be able to sleep after the marathon of scary movies you’d had that evening.

“Unfair,” you sighed quietly as you gave up and slipped out of the bed to trek to the kitchen. If you were going to have to be awake, you might as well get a snack in the meantime.

Once you were in the kitchen, you rummaged through the cabinet to find the cookies that were stashed away for times such as these. After not finding them for several minutes, you came to the conclusion that someone must have gotten to them before you did. You loved him, you really did, but you also really had wanted those cookies.

“Steven Grant,” you groaned before closing the cabinet and moving onto the fridge. There wasn't much of interest in there either - you really needed to go and get some groceries - until you spotted that piece of cake in the back. It would have to do for now.

You grabbed the plate out and set it at the kitchen table before grabbing a fork and plopping down in the chair. You were glad you'd turned on all the lights in the kitchen and hallway; it was the only thing that was keeping you from completely losing it. Each little creak and groan coming from outside and inside the apartment caused you to remain on edge. Realistically you knew that nothing was going to happen, but in the middle of the night your tired mind wasn't fully logical.

You finished the slice of cake quickly before washing it all down with a swig of whatever latest fake milk Steven had managed to find that was in the fridge. You paused to use the bathroom before making your way back to the bedroom. Steven was still in the exact same position as when you had left; lucky him.

You crawled back under the covers on your side of the bed and bundled yourself up in the soft blankets. After a bit of tossing and turning, you couldn't take it anymore and reached for Steven, attempting to wrap an arm around him and pull him closer to your body. Even in his sleep, he attempted to pull out of your grasp.

"Steven," you pouted, ready to cry even though you knew he was asleep and couldn't help it. It was silly to let such a thing upset you, but you were already in an emotional state. What part of your cycle were you in? Maybe that was why you were feeling even more emotional than normal, "I need you."

He didn’t respond to your soft little request, either because he was still deep asleep, or very good at ignoring you and feigning sleep. But you knew he would never do a thing such as ignore you. You picked his side a little, jabbing your finger into the soft flesh on his hip, “Steven. Steven.”

“‘m sleepin’,” he grumbled as he burrowed further into his pillow. The logical part of your brain knew you should just leave him alone and try and get some sleep on your own, but you weren’t feeling particularly logical. And you really want to be wrapped up in his arms if you were being completely honest.

“Steven,” this time your hand was on his shoulders and you resorted to shaking him, “please, wake up, I need you.”

“Hmm?” he finally rolled onto his back, his eyes opening slightly as he blinked away the sleepy bleariness, “what’s wrong, darling?”

“Well, two things,” you sighed as you sat up and looked at him with wide eyes. He yawned and you instantly felt bad about waking him up, but at this point, it was already done, “first of all, I’m scared. We shouldn’t have watched all those scary movies right before bed. I can’t sleep and I swear I’ve never heard this many creaks and cracks before.”

“It’s alright,” he whispered as he put his hand on your face, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek, “they were just movies, that’s all. Nothing can hurt you, besides I’m right here.”

“I know that,” you pouted, “but as we are well aware, monsters and scary things that most people don’t think are real happen to be very real…and scary”

“Let me rephrase,” he couldn’t help but chuckle lightly, “nothing’s going to happen to you. Fake movies and you’ve got me here to protect you.”

“Fine,” it was a huff of defeat when you realized he was right. You were being overdramatic, but he didn’t have to point it out.

“What was the second thing?” your face flushed with warmth as you realized just how silly this was all going to sound.

“Do you still love me?” you asked softly, burying your face in your hands as he laughed. And it wasn’t just some soft little shy laugh, but a deep one that caused him to sit up, “don’t laugh, Steven!”

“Please tell me this is not why you woke me up at three am,” he asked as you sighed lightly, shrugging your shoulders. He gently put his hands on your hips as he motioned for you to sit in his lap, “sweetheart…”

“Well no,” you offered him a tentative little smile, “but you wouldn’t let me hold you or cuddle and I was scared!”

“I was sleeping!”

“Well…normally you’d still hold me but you wouldn’t tonight,” this felt even more ridiculous as you said it out loud, “I just…I love you.”

“I love you too, very very much,” his hands found your face as he leaned in and kissed you gently. You could practically melt into his touch, finally calming down, “and in case you’ve forgotten, we happen to be married.”

You took his hand in yours, letting the cool metal of his wedding band click against yours. He brought your hand to his lips as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, “there’s plenty of unhappy and out of love married people.”

“And we don’t happen to be those people, love.”

“I…you’re right,” you agreed with a small little sigh, “I’m sorry for waking you up. And being…like this. I guess I just really freaked myself out.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he promised, “now we just know that we won’t have any more scary movie marathons right before bed…and that I still love you even if my sleeping body doesn’t hold you. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him tightly, “thank you, my love. You always know just what to do.”

“What can I say?” he teased as he nudged his nose against yours, letting his lips lingers just shy of yours, “I’m pretty fantastic.”

“And a dork,” you giggled, “that happens to be my favorite human being in the entire world.”

“Well, that settles that,” he grinned, “we’re on the same page. But for now…let’s get back to bed. It is…three in the morning after all. Do you think you’ll be able to sleep?”

“Will you hold me?”

“Of course.”

“Then yes,” you promised, “let’s get some sleep and then tomorrow I’ll make it up to you.”

“What…just how are you planning on making this up to me?” he raised an eyebrow as you offered him a saccharine little smile.

“Oh, I’ll find a way,” you whispered, “trust me. I love you, my sweet Steven-with-v Grant.”

“I love you more.”

#steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x fem!reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x you #oscar isaac x reader #moon knight #marc spector

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sunny-day-dream · 2 years ago

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No one asked for this, but I’m having CRAVINGS RN SO-

Fandom: Left 4 Dead

Pairing: Hunter x Reader

Warnings: Stalkerish behaviour, possessiveness

Notes: Just some rambles that I might one day expand since this dumbass has me in a chokehold right now (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

This rabid stinky boy has FEELINGS and he doesn’t know what to do with them okay????? He was built for attacking, not thinking thankyouverymuch. It was a miracle in itself that he could even manage a thought, so please don’t judge him too harshly

He’d stumbled upon and stalked you from a city, to a small town, then to another large city before he even realized that he was supposed to be attacking you, not just sniffing around everywhere you’d walked or rolling around in areas that you’d slept. Whoops.

He really didn’t care tbh, but the dull sense of embarrassment that welled up in his chest had his grey face trying to flush despite the virus riddling his body

He was off, different compared to the others, but only after he'd 'met' you. Everything before that moment was one big blur of burning pain and screams and feeling like he was missing something, like he was empty and needed to f i x it

Then you came along, and so did his slight clarity.

He could think when you were around, though it was disjointed in the beginning and he just knew that for some reason, he should be doing something else. Something important. Something like getting h e l p, because he could think- feel- but he didn't know why and it just made him angry.

So he ignored it.

You were important, familiar in a way that confused him- because it was an odd feeling he couldn't name yet, like he should be so very close to you instead of trailing behind. Walking beside you instead of leaping from rooftop to alleyway as he scouted the path he assumed you'd take.

And as time passed, he couldn't find it in himself to stay away- his body always managing to inch closer and closer to you before his mind caught up and stopped him.

He was confused about a lot of things to be honest, but the way he wanted to act around you confused him more than anything else, because he just knew- from some feeling that came from a faint lifetime ago- that it was unnatural and wrong but he just couldn't STOP

Why did he want to fight everything and anything in his path? Why was he so wound up all of the time? So angry at anything that wasn't you?

Why did he keep sniffing around you, hiding little scraps of your blankets and clothing you'd worn underneath his jacket- like he was hording you in your entirety as your scent drifted around him for days?

Why was he herding you away from bigger cities, using other infected to drive you somewhere he somehow k n e w would be quieter? Safer?

Why? Why? Why?

Now that he could think, it was all he could do

When you finally seemed to settle into an old home just far enough from the city to be ‘semi’ safe enough for him, he’d been following you for months. MONTHS. And you hadn’t noticed at all?? Even when he was keeping the other infected away from you and NOT being all that quiet about it????????

Just the other day he'd tackled a crying infected woman down 7 flights of stairs while you were rummaging around the top. And then- THEN you'd just walked by the body like it wasn't a perfectly good meal you could have taken back with you like he'd hoped???? Because if you had, you wouldn't have to go out again for a while and he could be content to just listen to you go about your day in that little house from his spot in the tree near your sleeping area.

He just, finally realises:

'haha look, they're an idiot...'

...

'oh NO, they're an IDIOT'

Congratulations, you now have an overprotective, instinct driven dumbass assuming that his two braincells (and that's being generous) are working harder than your own!

(even though you have 100% noticed him by now, but by this point your daily/nightly routine to keep an eye on him is very lax since he's made no move towards you other than to just...watch. Very intently.)

And okay, he'd absolutely been wanting to go see you up close now that he could focus more- to finally, actually see what you looked like- instead of just relying on the blurred figure he could make out most days with his bad eyesight. But you were oblivious to your surroundings as always, so getting just a little closer couldn't hurt right???

That's how he found himself with his face pressed up against the glass door to your hideout, watching you walk around slowly, intently looking anywhere but in his direction, and he was so content to just smile to himself and admire you as you did so.

Because WOW, seeing you properly had him breathless.

His chest was warm under his oversized jacket, like always when you were around- but it was different now that he could see you properly. Now that he could take in everything that made you...you, and brand it into his fuzzy memory.

He was making happy little noises to himself for awhile before he even realized what he was doing, tampering the sounds into a faint growl as you started making a muffled noise he'd never heard from you before- watching as you bit your lip, his fuzzy sight making out your smile before it was covered by your hand.

He really wanted to touch your face one day, just to see if you were as soft as you looked. Because you did look very soft, like he should have you wrapped up in blankets and hidden away in his tree so no one else could even think about touching you like he wanted to- because they wouldn't know that you had no sense of self preservation, that they'd have to be gentle and careful and- He would know to be careful with his claws, to keep his teeth away from you and bring you all the canned food he could carry because you seemed so happy when you found some-

There he went, making noises again, his chest rumbling away as you walked out of the room and out of his sight.

He was so happy he'd finally gotten to see you clearly, this was the happiest he'd ever felt before...this was all he ever wanted to do from now on.

It was perfect.

(The morning you walked out of your bedroom to find all the boards pried off the backdoor you'd meticulously barricaded, you'd just about had a heart attack and pulled your gun out. Because there he was, a very familiar Hunter pressing his face to the door and attempting to give you...maybe a very...unique smile while having his face smooshed against the glass.)

(You didn't shoot him though. Choosing to ignore him just as you had previously, hoping against everything that you'd made the right choice in assuming he was...not harmless exactly, but not a threat to you.)

(especially when he was whimpering and purring away, leaning this way and that to try and keep you in sight at all times)

(Your guard was up though, despite the laughter he'd managed to pry from you with his disgruntled look when he seemed to realise the sounds he was making)

...

(Because how he'd gotten inside the house, pried all the boards off the door, then gotten back outside to watch you like this was a mystery- this guy wasn't quiet or subtle at all from what you'd seen, so how the fuck did he manage that without waking you up??)

(... better yet, had he done it before?)

#l4d #l4d hunter #l4d x reader #left 4 dead #x reader #reader insert #l4d hunter x reader #headcanon #drabble #fanfiction #gn!reader

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marvelwitchergilmore · 2 years ago

Text

Wedding Day Disaster

Summary; Dean Winchester x Fe!OC (but feel free to see yourself as OC) ~ After a wedding disaster, Alice finds herself in a popular road house making friends with the owner...

Warning; Fluff, illusions to smut, kissing, mentions of cheating, violence, swearing.

The night was darker than ever. The rain had been pouring for a few hours earlier, as the darkness had been rolling in but now it was mostly bone dry anywhere you looked.

Ignoring the ringing of her phone and the material of her dress, Alice pulled in on the right down a small country road. She could see the taillights of a car just a few meters ahead of her and by the time she rolled into park, there were easily a dozen or more cars in the same positon as hers. Though, she highly doubted any of the passengers inside of them were going through what she was right this moment.

Clicking the button of her seatbelt, she opened up the door, locked the car behind her and walked inside. Some of the couples outside looked at her for a few more seconds than she would have liked but soon went back to smoking their cigarettes and chatting away.

It was the same inside. People stared. The small moments of silence were defening to her as she passed a couple of tables but people tried their best to carry on their conversations. She was just glad she hadn’t gone with the ballgown when shopping with her mother and aunt 8 months ago.

The bartender, however...well, his silence was the most defening. But also the most comforting. His green eyes had spotted her the moment she got out of her car. The white dress making her stand out like a sore thumb. He watched as she made her way over to the bar and before she could even sit down, he already had a glass on the counter top and a bottle of whiskey pouring a double.

She took the glass in the hand and downed the lot in two gulps before placing the glass down. And he did the same again. And so did she.

“Thank you.” Alice managed to say once the burning of the liquor stopped.

“Just yell if you need anything. The name’s Dean.”

“Alice.”

Dean nodded and went back to work, serving multiple customers at a time whilst she sat in the corner of the bar, looking around her. People were having fun, laughing, smiling, drinking, arguing, playing games. There were a couple of navy officers in the corner playing pool -- they must have been travelling through the town. Maybe they had come back home?

Alice wasn’t really keeping track of time. She just looked down at her phone and the numbers in brackets beside each caller ID.

8 missed calls from Mom. 17 missed calls from Sadie. 6 missed calls from Husband.

I should probably change that.

With a few clicks, although hesitant, Alice changed the Caller ID back to what it had been when she first met him. Ronny.

The bastard. The lying, cheating-

“Hey,”

Alice jumped a little and looked up from the trunk of her car. She had left the bar a few minutes ago in search of something a tad more comfortable.

“Hi.” Alice replied to Dean before she began to rummage through the trunk again. She had to have some clothes somewhere.

“I thought you might want to borrow these.” Dean held out a pile of clothes consisting of jeans, an plaid overshirt, an old t-shirt and a belt. “I’m not trying to be creepy. I just want to help.”

Alice scanned Dean’s face and body for a moment. She didn’t get this feeling very often, but she knew she could trust him. She couldn’t just quiet put her finger on why, though. Maybe it was a ‘just because’.

“Thanks.” Alice smiled, taking the pile from his hands. She moved back and sat down on the rim of the trunk, placing the pile on her lap and streching out his legs.

Dean was cautious as he sat down beside her, streching out his own legs and folding his arms across his chest.

Alice looked up from the ground, shaking her head to move the hair from her eyes so she could see the stars above her. “Go ahead, ask. I know you want to.”

Dean shook his head and tried his best to lie. “N-No. I-I don’t want to-”

“Dean.” Alice looked at him. “Just ask. I know you’re dying to.”

Dean gave a sorry smile. “Okay. What are you doing in a wedding dress in a place like this? Unless your groom is running late?”

“Well,” Alice sighed. “I was meant to be getting married today, at 2 o’clock this afternoon. Only, when he was meant to be getting ready to meet me down the isle, he was getting undressed with one of my bridesmaid’s helping him.”

“Ooh.”

“You said it.” Alice chuckled. “Yeah, after..half an hour of silent-shock, yelling and enough cursing to make even a sailor blush, I got in my car and started driving.”

“How long were you two together?”

“Nearly 6 years.” Alice explained. “Got engaged after 4. We were going to get married last year but the venue fell through and it was where my parents wanted to hold it so, we had to wait.”

Dean nodded, letting the following silence settle for a few moments before speaking.

“Well, there’s a bathroom on the otherside of the bar where you can get changed and there’s enough liquor to make you forget your own name. What do you say? See you there in 30?”

Alice looked down to her dress for a moment before looking up to Dean. “Better make it 20.”

Dean smiled, clapped his hands and stood up. “Well, then.” Dean held out his hand and helped Alice up. “I’ll see you in 20.”

He saw her in 15.

She left the bathroom with her white gown drapped over her arm in the dress bag from her trunk while the clothing she borrowed was a little big on her but she made it work. Besides, it was more comfortable.

In the bathroom mirror, she had removed the golden pins from her hair and let the curles in her hair fall around her face. If this day had gone any other way, she would think she looked pretty...whimsical. Dreamy. Like in the way you look in a morning and find the love of your life cooking breakfast. Dreamy in the way that you see yourself how they see you on a Sunday morning.

Alice pulled half of her hair back and pinned it up without thinking about it. Some of her baby hairs still fell, framing her face. And, finally, with the use of a small make-up bag from her trunk, she removed her fancy make-up from her face before drying it.

Now she looked more like herself.

“That was quick. You look good, by the way.” Dean said as he moved around behind the bar and popped the caps off a couple of beers before passing them to each customer.

“Thanks.”

“So? What’s your poison?”

“Beer. Please.”

“Coming up.”

Within seconds, a beer was infront of her and she took a swig of the alcohol. “So? Where do you want to begin?”

“I don’t know. Where do you want me to begin?”

“How about the beginning?” Dean asked, looking to her as he mixed a cocktail.

Alice smiled. “The beginning is probably always the best place to start.”

So Alice begun. And Dean listened. Throughout it all.

She started from when she had first met Ronny. There wasn’t much to say so she soon skipped to the engagment and everything that happened between then and the wedding.

“Ronny’s a dick. You deserve better.”

Alice smiled. “Thanks. I think you’re the first to say that to me. Well, second. Sadie would have said the same if we had time to talk before I left.”

“Why? What did you folks say?” But Alice didn’t answer straight away. Instead, she stood up and lifted the door to the bar.

“What are you doing?”

More, many more customers had arrived sicne Alice walked through the doors. “I’m helping. You’re working alone back here and can’t serve everyone all at once. Though you are trying hard to prove otherwise.”

Dean studied her for a moment before walking backwards and pulling a dishtowel from the lower cupboard handle.

“You ever worked in a bar before?”

“Not to my parents knowledge.”

Dean smirked and walked towards her before placing the towel over her shoulder. “Okay then.”

Alice began taking orders and soon found herself in competiton with Dean. Customers egging them on.

“She’s making a mockery out of you, boy.” An older Irish gentleman mocked causing both Dean and Alcie to look at one another and chuckle.

“She sure is, Henry. She sure is.”

This continued throughout the night until eventually people began to head home and Dean began to clean up, Alice helping by clearing the tables and turning the chairs upside down onto the tops before moving to bolt the door.

Dean poured them both a shot each before replacing the bottle. Lifting his glass, Alice did the same.

“To...new beginning?”

Alice smiled. “To new beginning.”

The both downed the shot and turned the glasses over.

“So, tell me.” Dean began. “What do your folks think of all of this?”

“They thought I should still marry him.” Alice fixed herself on one of the barstools, folding over her dishtowel as Dean kept his eyes on her and moved backwards to place back the bottles of liquor they had used.

“You’re kidding!”

Alice shook her head with a light smile. It was nice to know someone other than Sadie and herself disagreed with her parents.

“I am not.” Alice replied. “My mom pulled me aside, me thinking she was about to tell me I should maybe have a drink to take the edge off...but no. She was telling me I should forget it happened. After all,” Suddenly Alice took on a tone which signaled to Dean that these were not her words but rather her mother’s. “A girl like me is only so lucky to find a guy who likes me the way Ronny does.”

“Shit. She really said that?”

“She really said that.” Alice nodded, looking down. “Maybe that’s why I stuck with it for so long. I got so many of the same comments growing up. You’ll never find a guy if you dress like that. You’ll never get a job with a mouth like that.”

“Well, you’ve always got a job here. After tonight, any roadhouse would be lucky to have you pouring the drinks.” It sounded odd, but Alice took it as a compliment.

“Thanks.”

“You got a place to stay?”

“I saw a motel about half a mile up the road so I’ll stay there until I sort something out.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “You’re staying in town?”

“Might aswell.” Alice shrugged. “The company I work for, they had an opening pop up about a week ago. Make a few calls, find an apartment, a fresh start?”

“Are you not meant to take a mourning period?”

Alice shrugged again. “Maybe. Probably. But right now I’m too tired and too angry to cry. Thank you, Dean. For everything.”

“You know where I am if you need me.” Dean smiled before Alice left.

However, as she got to the door, she quickly turned back and hugged him. “I mean it. Thank you.”

Dean smiled. “Anytime, Alice.”

“G’night, Dean.”

“Night, Alice.”

Over the following months, Alice worked through...everything.

After spending two weeks crying - out of frustration, anger or sadness, she didin’t know - she called Sadie and had her go to her shared apartment and get her stuff out. Sadie wouldn’t have any trouble with running into Ronny since he got on the place and jetted off to Cuba for three weeks with the bridesmaid he’d been sleeping with for the last 10 months.

Sadie sent everything belonging to Alice to her in a couple of boxes which Dean helped her sort through.

There were a few items she wanted to keep, like photos of herself and her friends, but the rest of it...she either donated or drove to an old scrap yard which was Dean’s surprise one late Thurday, and beat the crap and smashed up each piece that could be.

After that, Alice conversed with Sadie to make sure her trnasfer was made as quickly and as smoothly as it could be before herself and Dean went apartment hunting.

Every place Alice went on her own, something felt off with each apartment and she always found it. She didn’t know what it was but she knew it was something. It was the water, or the electrics. So, when Dean offered his help, she accepted.

And she soon found it.

It was a two bedroom apartment, although the second bedroom wasn’t big enough to fit a human adult and their belongings so she would turn it into an office. Dean helped her shop Ikea and a few other places to pick out her furniture and appliances, him pushing the cart as she checked things off her list. She even helped him score a date in Target.

Although, she prevented one from happening when he helped her move in.

“Ow, what?” Dean asked, holding his arm where Alice had smacked his arm.

“You are not sleeping with someone who lived a few doors down. I’m not even moved in yet and I don’t want her asking me why you didn’t call her last night.”

“But she could be my future wife,” Dean argued.

“Well, if she is, then talk to her at the Roadhouse. She comes in every Tuesday.”

“But I’m busy.”

“You made time for me on a Saturday night. If you really want to talk to her, then you’ll find a way. Now, how do we set up this bookshelf?”

The pair of them fell asleep that night in the living room, Dean covering Alice up with a blanket before doing the same with himself.

And then, after six months, Alice got a surprise.

Alice and Dean were tidying the place up since someone had come in and made an offer to Dean he couldn’t refuse, to hold a surprise birthday party/engagment party for a couple in town so the place would be filled with the regulars and their families.

Except, as they were cleaning and setting up for the next day, someone walked in whilst Dean had his back to the counter and Alice was in the back.

“We’re closed. Come back tomorrow- No. Day after tomorrow. We’re closed then, too.” Dean called out as he closed the cash register.

“Please, this will only take a second.”

Dean turned around as he flipped the dish towel over his shoulder. “Bar’s closed. Go home.”

“Please. Just...I’m looking for Alice-” The guy, who Dean didn’t like on sight, stopped talking as Alice came from the back, carrying a case of beers.

“Ronald.”

He smiled. And it made Alice’s stomach queezy. “Alice. You...You’re looking...well.”

Alice rolled her eyes and slammed the case on the counter, Dean knowing better than to stand in her way. He quickly stepped back as she tore open the cardboard case and unloaded the beers into the fridge.

“Ever the complimenter, Ronald.”

“What ever happened to Ronny?” He joked but the look Alice shot him, he quickly shut up with that angle.

Ronny was brutally tortured and killed before being brought back to life only to die again because it was the lesser fate.

“I was hoping we could talk...privately.”

“Speak.”

“Er...Alice. I said privately.”

“And I said, Speak.” Alice stopped packing the beers and lent her hands on the lower bar.

Dean stood back and watched what unfolded. How painfully awkward it was and how, by the end of the 10 minute conversation -- not that Dean was timing it or anything -- Ronny walked out with his tail between his legs and, after listening to the shouts and few swear words leave Alice’s mouth, he realised there was no chance in hell she’d ever go back to him.

Alice waited until his car had left the lot and his tail-lights disappeared onto the main road before she turned around and sunk her hands into her face.

“You okay?”

Alice removed her hands and nodded, folding her arms around herself. “Yeah. I’m sorry you had to-”

“Oh, no. Don’t be. That was...awesome.”

Alice smiled. “Thanks.”

Suddenly, Dean was in front of her, holding her close in a hug. God, she needed that. She needed that hug. She needed to yell at him once more. She needed...this.

And she would have. For another four years...until it became more than she expected.

It had been a busy night filled with laughter, dancing and music.

It was Henry’s second retirement party since his other one lasted all around 5 minutes before he was off to work again. He’d been driving his wife mad being stuck inside the house all day with nothing to do.

“This one will stick.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Henry.”

The banter continued all night and, as the time creeped closer to 10, Henry and his old friends from work called Dean over across the bar.

“When are you going to ask her?”

“Ask who?” Dean asked.

Henry nodded over to Alice who was currently talking to Henry’s daughter who was holding their own baby in their arms.

“Ask Alice. To dance. Good lord man! Have you not asked the girl out yet?”

“I think she’d kill me if I did.” Dean joked.

“Go on, lad. Ask the girl.” Henry slammed his hand down on the bar. “Or Holt here might just beat you to it.”

Dean looked back with a smile before looking back, placing down his towel and walking over.

“That’s it, lad.”

“Alice!”

Alice turned around as Dean came closer. “Care to dance?”

“Didn’t think you did.”

“Maybe I just needed the right partner.” Dean suggested which, if she was being honest, sent butterflies fluttering around her stomach.

“Okay then.”

Soon the pair found themselves on the dance floor, dancing along to the music as the band played and sung away. The music was from the 40s. Although not exactly Dean’s type, he didn’t much care. He was with Alice and that was all that mattered.

Alice was spun out and spun in, and even dipped in Dean’s arms as they danced along. It helped that both were dressed as though from that ear or similar. It had been one of Henry’s requests. For everyone to dress as they once had, back in the day.

He’d never admit it, but he was a sentimentalist.

And this retirement would probably last a week at most.

Only, something seemed to change when the music changed to something slower. Holding each other close, temples pressed together. Dean never thought he would be doing this. Falling in love. Dancing. Wishing he could spend every day with Alice.

He could hear Henry’s voice in the back of his head as he quoted Leap Year. “Dammit man,” he’d slap his hand on the counter, “Kiss the girl.”

That had been a few years ago now. Maybe 2? But he gave that speech almost every week.

Eventually, the night drew to a close and the pair found themselves in a situation that happened every Saturday night or thereabouts.

Alice began clearing the tables and flipping the chairs before moving to bolt the door, meanwhile Dean cleared away the glasses, replace the bottles of liquor but not before pouring them both a shot each.

Dean walked around and met Alice on the other side of the bar before handing her the shot.

“To Henry.”

“To Henry.” Alice smiled before clinking her glass against Dean’s and both of them downing it.

Dean sat with his back to the bolted door whilst Alice sat in front of him.

“How long do you think this one will last?”

“I’d give him 4 days. Tops. Grady was telling me Henry’s already started looking in the Newspaper. He thinks she doesn’t know, but she does.”

Dean smiled. “That’s Henry for you.”

Dean watched as Alice looked around the roadhouse.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Alice smiled. “Just...this place.”

“What about this place?” Dean asked.

“If you had told me 4 years ago that this is where I would spend all my time...”

Dean looked around. “Same. I bought this place on a whim, what, 10 years ago? But I wouldn’t want to change a thing.”

“Not even one thing?”

As they looked at one another, everything of the last four years...every moment, every look, every thought, smile and laughter came into one and, between looked from each other’s eyes to lips and back again multiple times. It all finally came together.

It was odd, but not because it was bad. Because it was good.

Alice pulled back, but not too far before she leaned in again. By the end of their second kiss, they both pulled back and after a beat, they smiled. This was it. They were always meant to be friends first but this...together, it felt right.

Both leaned in back again, this time, smiling and more than ready. The kisses grew more heated, Dean standing with his hands pulling Alice in closer by her face and neck.

A small moan came from Alice’s throat as Dean suddenly lifted her, as she went to stand up, and placed her on the countertop of the bar, his hands roaming her body, pulling her closer as Alice’s hands went around his neck and into his hair.

Between the kisses, Alice managed to speak -- though she was seconds from completely never being able to speak again.

“Upstairs.” More kisses. “Now.”

Dean half smirked, half smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The morning light slowly faded in. Above the headboard of his bed lay a window, looking out across the land and hills in the distance. The curtains lay open a little wider since Dean woke up. The light came in with waves of glitter that shimmered above them.

He didn’t know how long he’d been awake. Maybe half an hour? But he wouldn’t move an inch. Beside him, Alice was still asleep and he wouldn’t move for the world.

“Morning.”

Dean turned his head and found Alice awake, and smiled. “Morning.”

Alice smiled back before burying her head downwards. Dean turned to his side and kissed her forehead with a chuckle. Alice could feel his smile against her skin with the rumble of his voice.

“You’re beautiful.”

Alice soon looked back up, the pair just watching one another until the other made the first move.

Alice lent up for a moment, kissing his lips before bringing her hand to his cheek to draw him in closer. Is this what she’d been missing for the last four years?

Dean and herself both smiled into the kiss but before Alice could pull him in closer, he made the first move. Alice found herself lying on her back as Dean’s arms wrapped securely around her and deepened the kiss.

Neither could ask for anything better.

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todoscript · 4 years ago

Text

how he would ask you out

request: pls some headcanons of how the boys (shinsou/tamaki/shouto) would ask the girl they like out 🥺

characters: shinsou hitoshi, amajiki tamaki, todoroki shouto

genre: fluff

word count: 3.3k+ total, 900-1200 per character

tags: pining, confessions, fem!reader

author’s notes: sorry if this sounds rushed?? i can’t write

SHINSOU HITOSHI

two years after his enrollment into the hero course, shinsou had finally came to terms with the feelings he’s been holding for you for quite some time now.

what began as just friendly encounters and kind gestures felt like something more to him. after all, you were one of the key people that led him to transition smoothly into the class, with your helpful demeanor and coming to his aid whenever he was stressed and troubled by the new environment.

you went out of your way to organize study sessions and small arrangements to mingle and get to know the other students better.

you reiterated to him that if he ever had any questions about anything, he could always come to you.

initially, shinsou thought he was being a burden—that he was just heavy baggage that tied you down.

however, you assured he was anything but, and stated that you were more than happy to help him, even going to say you enjoyed spending time and getting to learn more about him.

at your response, shinsou was appalled at how genuine you were.

appalled… but also very grateful.

eventually, there came a point when he realized there was no mistaking the affection he felt for you—not when he subconsciously noted every one of your habits and intricacies, able to tell whatever emotions were running through you at a simple glance, or when he would stop to admire the way you decided to style your hair differently or changed your look, thinking you seemed even more charming that day by the confidence you exude.

no, at that point, he’s sure it was painfully obvious. so obvious, in fact, that kaminari and mina had chosen to skip today’s group study session in favor of letting the two of you have your “alone time”. whatever that could mean.

shinsou had grimaced over their excuse of “being too busy that day” when you had told him the reasoning they gave you over text, despite knowing their next exam was only a couple days away. recalling just how nosy and enthusiastic they could get when involved in these kinds of affairs, he had an inkling of what exactly those two were planning. you, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to their schemes.

however, what did latch onto your mind was the thought of spending the day with only shinsou, in his very room, sitting across from each other with your textbooks open in front of you. though you should be more attentive to your studies, you couldn’t help the palpitations beating loudly in your chest and your wandering eyes that snuck glances at him after every question you answered.

unbeknownst to you, shinsou mirrored your actions all the same, reciprocating the flustered behavior, albeit a bit more subtly.

keep calm, hitoshi. why are you getting all worked up? he would say to himself, putting on his usual facade.

although he came off as relatively calm and collected on the outside, it’s difficult to keep his emotions in check when actions never lie.

that was especially true as he reached his hand out for the eraser you two were sharing between each other. with his eyes continuing to gander down at his notes, he hadn’t noticed that you were lunging for the same thing—not until your fingers had suddenly touched and you both pulled away at a speed equivalent to making contact with fire.

his stare unfaltering, shinsou was surprised to discern the embarrassed look on your face that immediately fixed itself as you rummaged through your pencil pouch. a second later, you pulled out another eraser, one that was notably smaller than the one you were sharing.

“um.. i’ll just use this,” you offered, and shinsou rubbed the back of his neck, the whole situation more awkward than it needed to be considering you never had any trouble sharing your supplies with each other before.

through some examination of your demeanor, shinsou had made a… bold enough claim, thinking that maybe—just maybe—you held the same kind of affections for him as he did for you.

it’s like he recalled earlier—actions never lie—and shinsou didn’t let the quiver of your lips or the intense concentration at your work to avoid meeting his gaze go past his head. that’s what spurred him to finally act on his desires.

without warning, he leaned forward on his seat to lay his hand over yours that caught your attention. you met his eyes, astonished to say the least, but more so concerned by how your eyes widened before you were about to open your mouth to ask him what was wrong.

the violet-haired male beats you to your words, voice resonating firmly, “y/n.”

you blinked. “y-yeah..?”

“i know this might be a bit late coming from me, but,” you could feel his hand tighten atop yours, “after exams, do you want to catch a movie together? just the two of us?”

shinsou fought the urge to look away, bashful at how he made his declaration for your time. the warmth surging under his skin was alleviated at the smile that slowly curled on your lips as you rotate your wrist, your palm touching his. the expression washing over your features told him you’ve been waiting for him to ask you this for a while now.

“i’d love to.”

AMAJIKI TAMAKI

ever a shy and introverted individual, tamaki has never had the heart to ask you out despite years of harboring a crush on you.

every time the thought had crossed his mind, he’d reason poorly with himself that you wouldn’t be interested in him in that way.

it didn’t help that his low self-esteem only deepened that thought that had now rooted itself in his brain.

at such a prestigious school like u.a., you were bound to find someone far more compelling than him—someone with guts, confidence, and great social skills. not a guy like him who conjures the image of potatoes at every anxiety-inducing encounter he comes across.

he was relieved enough to settle himself comfortably as just your friend—a title that allowed him to stay close and keep within your circle, all the while subjecting him to simply admiring you from afar.

but his eyes that held a hidden longing for more weren’t overlooked by a fellow student of his. or to be precise, the ever curious and free-spirited, hadou nejire.

always aware of his surroundings, it was hard not to notice that peculiar stare she’d aim at him during moments where he might’ve just finished speaking to you, or when you’d pass by and his head would naturally drift in your direction.

it was like she was picking apart every detail laid on him and it made tamaki absolutely restless.

tamaki’s suspicions and anxiety were later raised during one instance at the lunch table. he was at his usual seat next to his other big three companions, mirio and the aforementioned nejire, who was eyeing him with a gleam in her eye.

even with his self-consciousness, tamaki did his best not to pay any mind to the undesired attention and munched on his plate of takoyaki—the octopus nestled in the batter sure to come in handy later in training that day.

to his dismay, you passed by their table with your tray of food in hand, and nejire did not waste any time calling you over in that cheery tone of hers.

she invited you to sit down with them. you gave her invitation some thought before ultimately placing yourself in the free spot next to mirio, with nejire and tamaki already seated across from you.

the girl was all smiles and hums while tamaki was in a state of distress, both at his friend’s odd behavior, which was starting to spell trouble, to having you pulled into all of this. mirio was just being mirio, welcoming as always.

you greeted everyone at the table, making eye contact with mirio and nejire, but tamaki evaded your line of sight. he simply waved his reply without breaking away from his balls of takoyaki.

luckily for him, you didn’t give his lack of words much thought and started digging into your own lunch. it was then that nejire found it appropriate to start up a conversation.

“y’know, y/n, i’ve been meaning to ask you this, from one girl to another,” she mused, finger waving around playfully, “are you interested in anyone here?”

upon hearing her question, tamaki almost choked on his bonito flakes, his cheeks puffed and eyes blown. meanwhile, your chewing slowed as you gave your answer some thought.

“uh… well–”

“i’d say fujita from class d is quite the looker! think you’d be interested in them?”

after swallowing the food in his mouth, tamaki began to subconsciously listen in on the conversation. he paid close attention to your responses with bated breath, a small part of him anticipating your answer highly.

“fujita’s nice and all, but i don’t think we’d really get along as a couple.”

tamaki mentally sighed, relief evident all over his face. it was then that mirio had started fitting the pieces together after watching his close friend’s brow wrinkle throughout the entire exchange before finally relaxing at your words. crossing his eyes with nejire’s only confirmed his suspicions as the girl sent him a wink.

as a friend, mirio wasn’t about to let nejire’s operations fall flat. getting up from his seat, he motioned tamaki to come with him.

“i heard they have extra yakisoba bread right now! we should go check it out!” he said as a guise to give the other two time to themselves, free from tamaki’s prying ears.

unaware that mirio had caught on so quickly, tamaki didn’t object to tagging along with him. mostly because he thought of this as an opportunity to get some fresh air and calm his racing heart, finally feeling the effects of the blood rushing to his face.

with tamaki supposedly out of earshot, nejire was free to go about her questions however she wanted.

“okay then, if not fujita, then who? there has to be someone, right?” the girl scooted further in her seat out of pure curiosity. “tell me, is it perhaps someone in our class?”

it was your turn to be stricken by her boldness. you tried picking at your food, stuffing it into your mouth to avoid answering, but nejire’s tenacity outmatched you.

finishing your lunch, you opened your mouth to speak, “actually, the person i’m interested in is pretty close to you…”

nejire feigned ignorance, innocently placing a finger under her chin. “who? mirio?”

“ah no, it’s tamaki, alright?!” you ended up blurting, voice hushed but frantic.

bingo. hearing exactly what she wanted, nejire returned to her original position, a triumphant grin plastered on her lips. replaying what you said out loud in your head, you buried your warm face in your hands.

unbeknownst to you, tamaki had ended up hearing the whole exchange around the corner coming back to their table as mirio lightly snickered at his revelation of an expression.

the blond patted his shoulder. “go on then, you know what to do.” he threw tamaki an encouraging thumbs-up.

the boy gulped in response before inhaling a deep breath of air to prepare himself for what would arguably be the most important yet stress-inducing moment of his life so far.

noticing you getting up to discard your tray, tamaki—through a final push from mirio—went to make his move.

hearing him suddenly call out to you, you were caught off-guard. after admitting to your crush on tamaki to nejire, you felt your cheeks get hot just seeing his face right afterward.

“oh hey, did you get your hands on those yakisoba breads?” you scraped up a way to start the conversation.

“right... that… mirio managed to get the last one in the cafeteria,” he answered. then he brought his hand to rub his elbow, fidgeting in his spot as he found it difficult to look you in the eyes again.

“tamaki? something wrong? are you upset that he got the last yakisoba bread?”

he shook his head. “no, i… it’s just… i’ve been meaning to ask you this for a long time now, but never had the courage to say it to you because i didn’t think you ever liked me that way. but…” he finally mustered the determination to face you head-on. “would you go out with me, y/n?”

at first, you were speechless—absent of words as you relayed his request in your mind over and over again. then, your eyes softened, lips easing into a smile as you reached out for his hand.

“i thought you’d never ask.”

TODOROKI SHOUTO

it’s no surprise to many that when it came to asking someone out, todoroki didn’t exactly know the first thing to do.

mostly because he’s never asked anyone out to begin with.

you were the first person he’s ever felt these kinds of emotions for, and to be frank, he wasn’t sure what to make of everything that had been going through him when that root of infatuation had started to bloom inside him.

rather than sulk or contemplate on his thoughts for too long, he surmised it was best to simply come clean and ask for advice.

but when he confessed to what had been on his mind lately, he wasn’t expecting such a vigorous response from his friends.

“i’ve been thinking about asking y/n out.”

there was a layer of uncomfortable silence amongst the group before all hell eventually broke loose.

midoriya, uraraka, and iida immediately sprung from their seats in the common room, yelling “what?!” in unison. tsuyu and her frog-like mannerisms were more idle, but still surprised nonetheless.

todoroki was unfazed by their reactions, actually expecting it to go that way considering he’s never brought up any topics of that nature before. at the very least, he’s thankful he decided to say this when it was just the five of them. compared to what the whole class’s reaction would have been like, this was incredibly tame.

todoroki was used to always listening to what others had to say and never being the subject of the conversation when it came to dating.

but now things were different. he was openly admitting to them that he was regarding someone romantically. that he possibly sought a relationship with this someone—wanting to be committed to them and become the very best person he could be right next to them. to the four, this was coming completely out of left field.

after everyone simmered down and let the news sink in, the dual-haired boy resumed his thought,

“but i’m not sure how to do it.”

though the entirety of the group never had any experiences when it came to dating, they knew enough from media and pop culture to get an idea on how to help him. more than todoroki could imagine on his own anyway.

“i know! how about we go with the romantic and suave approach!” uraraka suggested. the rest asked her to elaborate.

“it’s simple! it starts by you leaving a note on her desk right before class, saying to meet you on the rooftop of the school! before the designated time, you should wait there for her with a bouquet of flowers, and then when she arrives, confess your feelings and ask her out!”

midoriya rubbed a finger against his cheek, skeptical. “i don’t think that sounds as simple as you’re making it out to be.”

tsuyu chimed in beside him. “those kinds of ideas usually only work well in books, ochako.”

pursing her lips, uraraka gave her plan a once-over, and realized it did seem a bit more involved and out of character than what todoroki was used to.

despite sharing a few more ideas with one another, they couldn’t narrow it down to any perfect one.

that was when iida clapped his hand, bringing everyone’s attention to him.

“alright, i think we’re starting to blow this whole ‘operation’ way out of proportion,” he said.

“if you’re honest about the way you feel about her and show it sincerely, i’m sure she’ll consider your feelings. you don’t have to do anything extravagant when it comes to asking someone out.”

listening throughout every word, todoroki nodded. meanwhile the other three were astonished that their class representative could be so whimsical when it came to romance, which in turn, iida was conflicted by. however, at the very least he was glad they could help out a friend. and so, todoroki went about his day with their discussion in mind.

he found that in many occurrences, whenever he crossed by you and thought of it as a chance to ask you out, there would always be someone to come in and take your time away. leaving him to stand there awkwardly before dismissing the fated question for later.

eventually, the sky dimmed and evening arrived, and by then, the whole class was already back at their dormitory and about to have dinner.

through some rather convenient circumstances, you two were actually assigned on kitchen duty that night.

“it’s been getting pretty cold lately so i was thinking we should cook up a hot pot for everyone.” you gave your idea to him as you pulled out some ingredients from the fridge, waiting for his reply, but it came a few seconds later than you were expecting.

“right. sounds like a good idea,” todoroki answered a tad late. upon realizing it was only going to be the two of you making dinner tonight, his mind was occupied by what he and his friends spoke about earlier.

that was when he started overthinking the situation and absentmindedly half-assed his work.

“todoroki, the cut on the tofu is slightly uneven.” you reviewed his cutting board. looking down, he saw the inconsistent slices of tofu limp in front of him. if bakugou were the executive chef for the evening, he would’ve had to hear an earful from him.

“sorry…” he apologized quietly, reaching out for another cube of tofu to cut.

“is everything okay? i know you’re still learning how to cook, but i’ve seen you show some significant improvement on your knife skills recently.” you voiced your concern for him.

the white and red-haired boy stared at the white bean curd while hearing your worried tone and couldn’t find it within himself to continue the task. it was now or never he thought. he laid the knife flat on the cutting board.

“actually, i wanted to ask you something.” he turned toward you. “do you… want to go out with me?”

nothing but the sound of the fire running on the stove could be heard in the kitchen. todoroki didn’t move his eyes away from you, watching you nearly drop the plate of siu choy and shiitake mushrooms out of shock as your mouth was hanging open.

when you caught onto your bearings, you let out a small laugh. “oh… i… wasn’t expecting that,” you admitted honestly, placing the ingredients on the counter safely.

the boy furrowed his brows. “is that a no?”

“n-no! i mean that isn’t my answer! i–” you fumbled with your words, cheeks warming up now that his confession had finally sunk in. in the meantime, todoroki found your reaction quite amusing. the corner of his lip quirked into a grin.

“what i mean to say is that yes, i’d love to go out with you.” you accepted the offer wholeheartedly. todoroki would be lying if his heart wasn’t throbbing from anticipation. he’s glad he’s able to rest and put that aside.

“now let’s continue making this hot pot together!” you cheered, smiling widely and he found comfort in your words before resuming slicing the tofu.

#bnha x reader #bnha imagine #bnha headcanons #shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #tamaki x reader #todoroki x reader #mha x reader #bnha scenarios #mha headcanons #shinsou hitoshi x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #bnha x y/n

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witch-hazels-musings · 4 years ago

Note

Hi Hi!!! I was wondering if I could request a reader treating their S/O's wounds after a fight/accident. Possibly with Diluc, Kaeya, and Albedo? Thank you so much I absolutely love your writing :D

^ I love Albedo so much - silly little forgetful genius

Warning -> cleaning injuries, playful/joking

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

Includes: Diluc, Kaeya, Albedo⚘

Diluc

Diluc would be pretty angry if he got hurt. It doesn’t matter hoe either, it could be because he was out protecting the city or found himself in a fight, but his pride would be hurt the most if it was because of an accident

He’d beat himself up for being careless and not paying attention - don’t mistake his terrible mood for being annoyed at you, it’s all turned inward

“This is a pretty bad cut.” You take his arm in your hand and look over the wound. It’s hard to tell, but it looks as if it spans from his triceps to his upper bicep. The blood has soaked into his shirt and when you go to examine the rip he pulls away from you.

“You don't need to fuss with it.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Of course I do.” You reach back out to him but he pushes your hand away which makes you huff. It was admirable how much he did and how hard he fought for others, but sometimes his pride got in the way of what was best. You wished he would let those walls down easier.

Diluc was always so much for you - in everything he did you couldn’t keep yourself together and you felt your body tingle from the tips of your fingers to the bottom of your feet. You loved him and sometimes it was painful

“Still, it needs to be treated.” You reached for him for the third time and his hesitancy began to slip. Carefully, you unbuttoned his shirt, keeping a close watch on his facial expressions. His eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is turned into a frown but he isn’t fighting you. Once you get enough of it unbuttoned, you slide it over his shoulder, and, as if you could forget, you catch sight of his beautiful skin. The muscles around his eye scrunched as you slide the sleeve of his shirt over the injury. “Sorry.”

You’d seen him many times before, but the air in your lungs always escaped when you did, there was something beautiful about him with his shirt half off - how it accentuated his chest and back muscles, the way his vibrant hair complemented his dark shirt and pale skin

You began to clean his wound. First, you wiping it with a cloth, making sure to use a gentle touch so as to not irritate the skin anymore before applying the medicinal cream you often kept on hand.

Even as your eyes looked over the injury, you couldn’t help but glance at his face and look for any sign of discomfort. Soon, you found your gaze trailing down his neck and over his chest. It was unbelievable how attractive he was, and you couldn’t understand that out of everyone, he chose you.

You rummaged through the medical supplies until your hands found the bandages. Shifting closer to Diluc and resting his hand against your outer thigh you began to wrap his injury as carefully as you could.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“Not particularly, all that you need to know is the issue has been dealt with.” His chin rested in his free hand and he avoided your eyes.

“Hmm. I’m not surprised, you’re more than capable. I’m nearly done.” You wrapped his arm a few more times for good measure before clipping the bandages together with one of the small metal clasps. “That should do. We should change the bandages tomorrow, but I don’t think you’ll lose the arm.” You chuckle and bend to your side, the items in the medical kit a disorganized mess and you work quickly to get them back in order. When you sit back up Diluc is still sitting in the chair in front of you, which you didn’t expect.

You open your mouth to say something but stop when he turns to you. He runs his fingers against the side of your head, pushing strands of your hair over your ear. His hand rests there for a second, his thumb sliding across your cheek and you feel the goosebumps climb up your back and over your shoulders, seeping into your heart.

“I’ll be more careful next time.” His eyes shift back and forth between your own, his face haloed by fiery hair.

“Mhm.” You nod and he releases you. You gaze at him as he stands by the dresser and works his way into a fresh shirt.

Kaeya

Kaeya loves being pampered by you - he cannot get enough of your touch anyway, and when you care for him, clean him up - all your attention on him - well he gets kind of a big head

“How many times have I told you to be more careful.” You scold him as you position yourself behind the chair.

“At this point, I’ve lost count.” He bent backward and tilted his head until he could look up at you. Even though the two of you had been together for some time, he still found ways to set your veins on fire.

He looked at you and at this angle, you were given a perfect view of his neck and chest. You couldn’t help but notice the discolored skin where he had been injured in battles past. He may be quick on his feet, but he was still human.

As nimbly as he could, he wrapped one of his arms around your back and pulled you close to him.

“Who needs to worry about being safe when they have their own personal nurse.” You laughed and leaned down to place a quick kiss on his forehead. He hummed and the sound warmed your chest.

“I might be out of a job if you don’t be more careful.” You traced your fingers up his neck and along his jawline before giving him a gentle pat against his ear. “Now lean up so I can work.”

He complied, returning his arm to rest on his legs and you settled back over his shoulder. With a light touch, you gripped onto his bicep and pushed it further into the light. The injury, while painful looking, didn’t seem to be too dangerous.

Kaeya was cocky - sometimes more than he should be, and while he was perfectly capable of keeping himself out of harm's way, he didn’t know everything all the time

Taking care of him like this was intimate in its own way. He wanted to be close to you and normally his hands were the ones trailing their way across your skin, but when these situations came up you had more justification to touch him without reservation

The cut stretched across his shoulder blade, almost as if a blade was deflected from striking him in the back. You grabbed the cloth from the warm tub of water and wring it out until there were only a few drops coming off of it. Wrapping it around your hand so you have more control, you slip your pointer and middle finger into the cloth and hold it together in your palm, this way you can clean the skin around the cut more efficiently.

You admire how flawless his skin is as you clean the blood. You hope this doesn’t leave a lasting scar, but honestly, it wouldn’t be the first and unlikely to be the last. As carefully as you could, you begin to clean the edges of the injury. When you hear him suck in the air quickly you stop.

“Ah, did that hurt?”

“Heh, nothing I can’t handle.” He laughs in good humor and shifts a bit in the chair.

“Oh, so I can stop being so gentle then?”

“Now hold on.” He begins to turn around, his confident smile already slipping.

“I’m kidding.” You reassure him with a snicker, placing your hand on the side of his arm. “Be a good patient and relax.”

You finish cleaning his wound and covering it with the healing ointment before working on placing the bandage. Thankfully, the Knights always had everything on hand so it made the whole process quick and relatively painless.

“I think we are good.” You pack away the items and place them back into the medical cabinet, the door closes with a satisfying click. Walking over to the small refreshment table you pour water into a cup and make sure you take both it and the pain medication back to Kaeya. As you make your way back to him he’s already putting his shirt back on, a shame really. “Here, these should help with the pain.”

You hold out your hand to him and wait for him to finish. When he turns around and his eyes land on the pills in your hand he smirks.

“I know another way to alleviate pain.” He walks toward you and you already feel the urge to roll your eyes.

“And what is that?”

“Kissing.” He looks down at you and pulls at your shirt. He closes his eyes and leans down to your face but you hold him off.

“Hey now. Why don’t you take these and then we can talk.” You knock your knuckles onto his slightly exposed chest and with a huff he concedes. Quickly, he takes the medicine in his hands and tosses them in his mouth, you offer him the water but he doesn’t take it. “Good jo…” He cuts you off. His lips connecting with yours and his hands pulling you close.

He pulls away and looks at you, “See, my way is so much better.”

“Cheeky.” You poke back and fail in your attempt to get away from his lips.

Albedo

He’s taken care of himself for so long that it’s still a shock sometimes to have someone dote on him as much as you do - you’re always around to help him and he’s starting to find your company quite enjoyable

Here’s the kicker - Albedo wouldn’t notice if he had been injured until way later - so when you react loudly near him he doesn’t completely follow nor understand what has made you so upset

“Albedo! What happened?” You reach out to his face and when he disconnects from the papers that have kept his attention for so long you see the confusion in his eyes.

“Y/N, sorry. I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“You have a cut on your face.” You brush his hair away from his forehead and shake your head as you see the cut across his brow.

He reached up and touched his head, when he pulled his hand back to his line of sight and saw the blood on his fingertips his reaction was calm. “Well, this is a surprise.”

You turn around and walk toward one of the cabinets in the research facility. It wasn’t uncommon for small accidents like these to happen here. Often, the experiments would become quite volatile or their reactions unexpected. You pulled the items from the shelf and remembered the time an unfortunate student lost his eyebrows.

Quickly, you made your way back to Albedo’s side and placed the medical box on the counter next to you. As you rummage through the items in the box you start to talk to yourself, narrating out everything you were doing as well as your thoughts.

“I know there should be some things in here that will help. I could have sworn that it had, ah yes. Here you are tricky thing.” You tear open a small bag and pull out a cloth. As quickly as possible you get it wet and feel it begin to lather under your fingers. “I’ll use this to clean your wound and then I’ll bandage it.”

You walk back to Albedo and place your hand against his cheek. He’s been watching you this whole time and lets you do as you please. “Where is Sucrose when you need her. At least she seems to keep you out of harm's way … sometimes at least.�� At this point, you are mumbling, and more to yourself than you are to Albedo. When he laughs you freeze, one hand resting under his chin and the other against his forehead. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re so upset that you’re talking to yourself.”

“Oh … really?”

“Mhm”

“… I didn’t even notice.” You feel your ears get warm and pinch your lips together.

“It’s fine. I often talk out loud when I’m looking at my research.”

It never ceased to amaze you how similar the two of you were - how you could both get so lost in whatever you were doing that the world seemed to fade away

Still - Albedo was the only person in your life who could keep your attention on the here and now - from the day you met him he was your present and, hopefully, your future

“This should be enough, does your head hurt?” You placed the bandage over his injury. The research facility was really to thank for the adhesive additions to small bandages like this. Somehow, they managed to make the edges sticky enough to adhere to the skin, but not too much to make it impossible to remove.

“No, it seems to be okay. Thank you.” He reached up and grabbed your hand and let it rest in his lap.

“No problem.” You avert your eyes and let them rest on the floor. He gives your hand a squeeze before letting you go and the warmth of his palm leaves yours chilled. The two of you just live in the comfortable silence for a second, he glances your way and you push the medical box along the counter. Finally, you break the silence, “I should put this back.”

You pack up the items and close the box before walking back to the cabinet where you got it. As you slide it back onto the shelf the question you never got the answer to slipped back into your brain.

“Hey,” you begin, turning around and leaning against the counter. “So do you remember how you got the cut on your head?” You cross your arms and stare at him from across the space.

He scratches his head with his pencil and shakes his head. “I can’t recall. Oh, are you busy though?”

“No, I’m free the rest of the day.” You reply.

“Excellent, would you be inclined to stay and assist me? I have a number of things I’m working on and would appreciate the extra hands.”

“Sure. Where can I start?” You push yourself from the counter and take a few steps toward him.

“Ah yes, I need to organize the specimens in the closet back there … ” he stands and begins to walk toward the back closet, you head that way and reach it before he does. “There were a number of things to do …”

His voice trails off as you open the door and find a great number of items littering the floor. Boxes, books, papers, and other random items spread about in complete disarray.

“Oh … I think I remember how I got injured.” He stares over your shoulder and in defeat, you cover your eyes with your hand.

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years ago

Text

DENTIST THE BAD BOI

Word count: 7k

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

Summary: Harry's a med-student and Y/N's an art student, being neighbours with Y/N was already a living hell for Harry but when she fusses over his cat getting her cat pregnant -- he mighty looses it.

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

MASTERLIST, REQUEST FOR BLURBS FROM THIS FIC ARE OPEN || PART 2

“Harryyyyy!!!!” Y/N screamed at the top of her lungs staring at the small picture of ultrasound, blinking at it several times to vision herself back into reality because the more she does the more she becomes grumpy and fussy – cursing the beast of a neighbour who got her little innocent cat pregnant.

She pulled the strings of her pyjama shorts to tighten it around her and hastily towed her feet into fuzzy slippers, giving a stink of an eye to her cat “don't act so surprised you little ragamuffin!” She mouthed at her with venom (as if trippers her cat cares), stomping her way out and writes a whole book of judgements in her rattling brain upon hearing the loud music weeping through walls.

She knocks. Huffs when it goes unnoticed and this time pounds at the door, crossing her forearms infront of her chest. Not unaware and very accustomed; of happy chatter whirling around whenever she’s trying to focus how a certain recipe goes by, his mates chanting his name from outside when he’s too occupied in whatever he's sorting out inside for their arrival, clanking of beer bottles knowing they and her have a long time to go, the music dimming in the wee of night as the door closes after every fifteen minutes and it dawns at that time –-- she always get left with one option and that’s to curse him till she sleeps.

It’s every Friday and Saturday’s story.

“Max stop that before Ni asks fo’ a dummy —-,” His neck's craned to where his friends are sitting on one of the cosy spots. His jaw popping, dimples chasmic from the smirk he’s holding and Y/N gulps then arches her brow when his attention drops down at her, “Oh .... hi, could help ya?” His cocky grin irks her – bubbling a fire in her pit and an urge to twinge his ear and drag him to her apartment, to show him what he did.

“Could you help me!?” She laughs ironically, chases her frowning gaze from the ripped patches of his jeans towards where his curls are brushing his earlobes and it kind of makes her gasp which she traps in fortunately because – he’s always wearing a hoodie, beanie or his hair up in a little fountain like bun rushing through the lobby with his thick books and laptop clutched in his arms, “Yes please .. y’could help me by transferring expenses of your cat's babies every month to me —-...um could simply have them in your apartment too if the first deal’s too bad.” She shrugs. Taking a glimpse from his shoulder of his friends bunched over eachother and he toys with his bottom wet lip, brows stringing into confusion and his bicep flexes making her flutter her eyes away as he grips the knob of the door and closes it behind him.

“What d'ya mean?”

“You’re doing it on purpose right? ‘cos there’s no way —--” He cuts her groans with a snap and runs a palm down his face, “I seriously don’t know what you’re talkin' ‘bout, Y/N.” His lips tinned into a flat line, his posture now resembling her's and she slaps her forehead with the heel of her palm.

“Then you should keep tabs of your beasty minx of a cat who got my cat pregnant!” She exclaims disbelievingly to which his eyes turns saucer and he throws his sinewy arms in between them, mimics her expressions comically, “Is that my fault? Did I get your cat prego?” She blinks up at him rapidly --- he’s such a nerve puller.

“Yes it is! You didn’t get your cat desexed —-,” She stuffs her pointer against his chest and twist it with a grit, “Now he’ll have babies left and right – like a catwhore he is!!” She aerials her hands in different directions rapidly and he takes a step closer kissing his teeth together to seethe his words.

“He’s not a catwhore!”

“Kay then take the responsibility of what he did.” She mutters tapping her foot onto the carpeted floor and guppies at him like a fish when he bursts into taunting cackles, leaning to catch the door-frame before he mushes her under his weight. ”

“Ye -‐..- you’re —- you aren’t serious are ya?” His rosy eyelids snib tightly forming crinkles to where his temples meet his cheeks and she almost pouts, how much she doesn’t want to she could never cascade her expressions.

“Oh my — .... Bambi eyed wouldn’t I’ave had free him of his ball’s heaviness –-- if I’d ‘ave enough money down me pocket?” He scrunches his nose to take a breather from laughing hard.

“Don’t call me that!” She bites at him.

“You’re cute when you’re angry.” He smirks gingerly – drums his fingers against his folded bicep and presses his back to the wall tipping his chin high.

Her blush eager to creep up her neck embarrasses her further more and she hides the softness in her voice, muttering gruffly, “Shut up.” Then turns to walk back into her apartment and to slam the door at his face -- but -- his whistle for her halts her in tracks.

“Hey – Bambi, we could sign the custody of kitties if that what ye'want.”

Three weeks after. There was another knock on Harry’s door, Niall's head perks up and bangs against the bookshelf –- he was trying to keep the furry cat in his lap, for a good warmer but its more enamoured with the ‘clucks' of his daddy’s boots than the soft flesh of Niall’s thigh as Harry chucks his wallet in the back-pocket of his jeans (he was about to go outside and bring some food) and opens the door slightly to see through the trapping chain, “who’s it?”

“Harry ‘s me ....” The voice mousey and worried. Niall recognizes it in a hot-second, frowns and tries to gain snowy’s attention, “What did y'do again? Did ya get the pretty neighbour's cat prego twice, you fat farts.” He chuckles when snowy meows at him innocently and Harry's brows skews together into a scowl.

“Call him fat farts another time —- I dare you —--,” He howls. Throwing angry upset glares towards Niall – their bickering gets interrupted when Y/N slips her hand from the crack of door, pinches Harry’s knuckles and he squeaks, “Ow —- what the fuck!”

“Harry.” Her tone threatening.

Harry puffs out a huge sigh and reveals himself infront of her, he's not in mood to fight with her over their cats, or the parcel Harry forgot to give her which got delivered to him on accident like one of the thousand times (he never found anything freakish until now .. not that he goes through what’s inside, but the labels tell they’re mostly her art supplies), or why he’s been showering for an hour because she now isn’t left with any warm water —- because he just came back from UNI and is dust bones from having two exams in a row.

“Y/N —-,” His face reeks with exhaustion. His curls drowsy, escaping from his knit beanie and his eyes glazed with sea-foam. She kinda feels bad for disturbing him -- but – it’s an emergency and she doesn’t know where to go, except him.

His weary vision falls upon trippers tucked beneath Y/N’s arm, “Is she alright?” He scratches behind her ear and trippers gives out a pained yowl.

“No –-.. that’s why ‘m here. She’s spotting blood everywhere and –-- and I don’t have enough money ...,” She’s embarrassed to say least. Not meeting Harry’s eyes and he gazes her sincerely –- belly doing weirdly funny somersaults. He clears his throat, grogs out gathering all the information in his head from the anatomy of humans and animals he studied till now.

“It’s okay for spotting in pregnancies – but ‐-.. she looks very much in pain s' we shouldn’t risk it. I’ve a friend. She’s practicing vet -- we could take her there.” He offers. Rubbing the back of his neck and Y/N bobs her head vigorously, anything to save her trippers baby.

“Fine –-- yeah, Iemme just wear my shoes ... then we're good to go.” She mumbles. Harry hasn’t seen her demeanour flatter like this ever before, whenever she’s banging and barging through his flat it’s always taut and cold banter.

He has never seen her this defenceless.

He drops his gaze down at her feet and finds that she’s wearing cute pizza slices socksies.

“Is this a clinic, or weed doing zone for animals?” She didn’t try to be mean. It just happened as she takes in the wearbouts of garage, stuffed with drums and musical instruments, spray paint on walls. Harry seems unfazed though, he could be shabbier than her if he wants to –- much fouler that could make her cry.

“Told you. She’s practicing not a vet yet.” She doesn’t question him further. Grateful enough for his help. She might not admit but he isn’t that bad of guy as she once imagined him in her head.

Y/N stifles a snort when a girl with mullet shag, having a stud in her brow and the corner of her lip, attired in all black greets Harry with a hip-check, “Vas’up booger.” She grins and Harry grumbles ruffling her hair with his knuckles.

It leaves Y/N in awe. This’s what group of friends look like -- so fun and annoying, she wanted to have this since when she’s small. Sadly, it’s just her and trippers in her friend group.

“Hi there!” She waves to Y/N trying to battle Harry’s tickles away. Takes trippers from Y/N's arms and coos up at her, “hiyaa baby .. oh, she’s having lil buns inside her.” She laughs and Y/N already likes her so much. As if, she’s the main character of any vintage styled movie.

“Rori here.” She introduces herself as Harry strolls inside her kitchen to rummage through her fridge, “Y/N.” Y/N smiles –-- eyeing Harry who’s whistling and tearing the crate of orange juice open.

When Trippers purrs from a cramp, Rori snuggles her closer to herself – “Her spotting is nothing to worry about –-- maybe she’s ready to give birth. If not I’ll take her to my hospital.”

“So Harry said...” Y/N nods.

“Oohh.” Rori exclaims, wiggling her brows curiously at Harry who’s gulping down juice hungrily, “Booger got normal friends too? Thought, those were all white lies.” He almost chokes at it – downing it cautiously and blinks vividly.

“No. Just neighbours.” Yeah, there’s nothing friendly between them –-- but how it’d be like to befriend Harry. The thought makes Y/N feel snoozy and warm.

“I see.”

“Okay then! ‘m gonna keep Trippers with me for two days –-- figure out what I could do to help her and if she heals I’ll drop her by, how that sounds?”

“Sounds good!” Both, Harry and Y/N chimes together heating their cheeks up. Harry wavers his gaze away, sulking a pouty mouth and turns all stoic again.

He doesn’t want to like, Y/N. Nope. Not at all. In any case.

She’s his bedevilling, bothersome and galling neighbour who just screams at him too much for his likening.

“Would you like something to eat?” She asks him while walking back home and he shakes his head, so she nudges him in ribs, “oh c'mon let it be a thank you, grumpy pants.”

“’M not –-,” He was about to snap at her. Instead, he groped her wrist tightly and tugged her to his side –-- she squeals into his chest as a car passes by them swiftly, honking at them in anger.

Her hair wisps from the friction of Harry’s hoodie as she pushes herself away from him, surprisingly he smells incredibly sweet – that of vanilla and citrus musk, something very cosy and like a morning breeze.

A jolt buzzes through her spine at the fact she was about to get crushed under a vehicle but she grins up at him awkwardly, “Tofu then?” His peepers widen in shock and he slaps his forehead.

“You’re mad, know that.”

Harry and Y/N. Sky and earth . She sprouts buds of irises and peonies when she speaks, her touch that shines away even an intimidating person as if they're mimosa plants, those eyes --- those eyes are itself sepia of grounds on which the tiny creatures celebrates by and Harry's well ... he’s the floss of clouds hidden behind sunshine, his rains would turn her into loam and his uppish thunder would make her loathe him.

Then some gods decided to break the needles and fix it in some other clock that rotates anti-clock wise.

Now, when she’s unable to nourish her flowers he's always there to rain and stroke a tender breeze against her that makes her lush grass snuggle the roots of who she’s.

They were enemies once. Opposite to eachother in many ways but couldn’t live without eachother despite of their distances. Just like sky's a hollow sheet of nothingness without it’s dear earth.

What blossomed their friendship was Y/N's date with this cute boy that is in her ceramic class, (not a date if you’d ask so –-- more like a meetup at this coffee house near her UNI).

Turns out he isn’t that cute. His blunt hands wandered up Y/N’s thigh without her consent and before she could know that, he was groping at it –-- making her gasp and hit her knee against the table. She struggles to writhe out of the chair but he stitches his nails in her skin, “I’m not liking it – you better stop.” She hisses, palms sweaty and slipping trying to remove his grip from around her.

“Don’t act all stupid .. you were hitting at me for hours, you want it but wouldn’t admit.” He groans, rolling his eyes and she feels like crying –-- teeth clanking letting out a shuddering breath.

“I’ll scream.” She warns him.

“You’re not that innocent, you act like.” He smirks, sliding his hand down her insides and before he could reach further Y/N sneaked a fork from the table and stabbed it in his knuckles.

“Fuck.” He shrieks, “Bitch.” He almost screams but stops when everyone stares at him as Y/N’s chair fell against the floor and she stumbles inside the bathroom.

Locking it behind her. Her chest burns with tears. Her vision spins and her fingers shakes as she dials one number she could reach for anytime, it rings then goes to voicemail so her bitten lip wobbles and eyes turn glossy.

She again dials it. There’re noises behind, that of someone instructing and Harry was in his lecture hall when she called .. his heart drops because all he could hear is quivering breath ... it shudders to tight painful gasps and he’s collecting his stuff leaving his seat immediately the doctor who's teaching them Apiceoctomy stares Harry while speaking.

Once he’s out in hallway, “Hey? Y/n are y’there? You okay? What happened?” She bolt her eyes close pressing her head to cold tiled wall and yawps outta fear when someone pounds at the door. Harry runs towards the exist, “Y/N where are you!? ‘m coming .. whatever it’s just --.. just ...” He gripes at his curls pushing them back – his heart beating loud, “ – just stay where you’re ‘n don’t panic .. yeah? It’s okay.” He mutters. Voice soft and assuring.

Her breathing patterns back to calmness – something about him so consoling, so warm and she nods. After some minutes she’s telling him the address and gladly it’s not that far away from Harry.

When he reaches. There are several people waiting at the bathrooms door and he’s knocking on it lightly, pressing his ear to it and grabs the knob (in case he’d have to break it).

When there’s no-response from inside he gets it something’s peculiar, “Bambi. ‘s me Harry.” It clicks and unlocks and he’s tumbling inside while the others groans and disperses knowing it’s invain waiting.

He’s dishevelled. His curls in moppy condition and his eyes full of concern and worry –-- she feels awful for doing this to him.

“Were you crying? Did somethin' happen?” He frowns. Ducking a bit to meet her gaze level and she clears the clump in her throat, “Can we just leave .. please?” He couldn’t believe it’s her voice – the bubbliness and chirpiness of it died to frightened meekness.

Harry takes her hand and walks them outside, Y/N sucks in squeak when the same guy rushes to confront them and when Harry sees his injured hand -- everything pieces together and fury spikes through his veins.

His brows pinches together into a frown, his lips lifting into a scowl and his eyes darkens pitch coal like.

He grips her dainty fingers and moves her behind him protectively and his chest buffs out as he takes a step forward towering the guy – “What d'ya want?” He kisses his teeth together to grit vehemence and that guy lift his trembling hand infront of Harry.

“Look what this bitch —-,” Ah –-- he really pushed Harry’s bad button didn’t he?

Harry grabs him from collar and Y/N squeals rubbing his wrist to pull him back, no-use.

“Badmouth her or anyone —-" Harry sneers and if he'd be a cartoon character – fume would have been coming out of his ears and nose.

“Else what!?” Harry’s more of a practical person -- so he did what he's been learning for years now and breaks his nose with such force it almost knocks him out.

Y/N's still in shock. Walking behind him on jelly toes and a shiver spirals in her bone marrow when her sweat dries from the wind that’s blowing and hitting them in faces.

They wait at bus shelter, sitting side by side –-- thighs brushing now and then flustering Y/N, Moreso when he apologizes everytime.

There’s silence. Harry’s irritated groan breaks it –- he clenches and unclenches his knuckles .. the thin skin a bit bruised.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry –-- .. ‘s my fault.” She rambles. Taking his hand to inspect it, “I shouldn’t have called you at ---..” He frowns confused and pokes her in knee conveying her to stop worrying. Because if anyone needs to be taken care of is her and wish he could just hug her and tell her that it’s not her fault – not even a tad.

“Y/n...” He gains her attention and his gaze flickers from her snotty nose towards her soaky cheeks, “Shut up.” She chuckles at that putting his palm gently back on his thigh.

“Would you like to have, noodles? I know this incredible chinese place ...” He shakes his head. His smile small and kooky, nose scrunched up as he sniffs the air – predicting a rain coming soon.

“D'we have to eat after every tragedy that happens t’you?”

“Yup, tragedies makes me hungry.” It’s her coping mechanism if she'll be honest and that’s what she’s been doing for ages.

“Who are you, Y/N?

She jumps up. Wiggling her fingers for him to take and beams sweetly, “Bambi next door?”

“From when did ya become s' rich?” He giggles. He finds her fucking adorable as she drags him along herself excitedly – she halts infront of the expensive restaurant –- where people dressed in all kind of luxuries and bright pearls are dinning in and she arches her brow sceptically, “Did you really think –- I’ll be able to take us here?” He shoves his hands in his jeans pocket, elevates his shoulders and smiles bashfully.

“Maybe one day, who knows?” They walk towards the chinese take out and Y/N trots backwards –-- facing him all while and rolls her eyes, “’M an artist whose half of paintings goes to trash.” Harry’s eyeballs springs out of his sockets hearing her statement and he really wants to knock some senses into this silly girl.

“Oh my --.. jeez .. those paintings are ‘s good y'divvy. They're hanging onto my walls, been enjoying them fo' free —- what the actual fuck .. really your hands are magical.” He feels annoyed and sad that she felt a need to dump them, because those were some beautiful art pieces.

(“Hmm. It has some hidden meaning beneath it, H. I’m tellin' ya.” Ni would always say. Standing infront of it for hours and hours staring at it.

“Looks like a pussy to me.” Max would quip sipping his bevy and Harry would smack him in head, “Guys how ‘bout we just see it like a fuckin' painting.” He'd grumble focusing back on his books.)

“Really?” She asks shyly and he bobs his head, “Guess you could just keep them then ...” She grins up at him taking the boxes from the cashier.

“Where are we going?”

“You’d see yourself.” She sing-songs galloping over the muddy potholes and Harry looks funny doing it with his spider long legs. Their footsteps echoes in the empty warehouse and Harry didn’t expect her to be the person – that loves finding weird places and spend time there.

“Careful there.” He murmurs. Pressing a hand to her waist when she wobbles on her feet climbing the metal stairs and Harry thinks if she was this clumsy all along or it’s from what happened at the coffee house.

“Holy shit!” He cups a hand around his mouth as the traffic bustles down on the street, “You afraid of heights?” She glances back at him from where she’s standing on the cemented edge.

“Matters. If we're about to act silly and jump, then yes.”

Warmth worms up at his chest and his adam apple bobs, he barks out a laugh when she giggles demanding him to come closer to her, “Come here then you dentist the bad boi.” He tugs the fabric of his jeans from his crotch and hikes his one knee up sitting beside her, other leg swinging in air.

He listens to her hums and happy sounds as she slurps the long noodle inside her mouth, “What you’re afraid of then Harry?” Her question catches him off-guard. Nobody has ever asked what his fears are and he might be famous for an intimidating personality just because he speaks less and owns a roaring bullet –-- he’s still very nice to talk to, but he'd rather spend his time with snowy than waste his time on orgy parties.

“Snowy’s funky farts -- they're ‘orrible!! have to leave the flat fo’ a minute.” He grins when Y/N’s head lulls back and she laughs gleefully, rolling into his side to support herself, “Oh no!” She whines when her chopsticks falls and drops onto the road poorly.

“We can share mine.” He hands her his chopsticks and she thanks him timidly, “What d'you fear?” They pass it back and forth –- his lips wrapping around them as he takes a chunky bite.

Harry tries to down the food that got stuck in his throat when she said nonchalantly, “Dying alone I guess?” He chews the veggies, grimaces and shakes his head -- puts his hand over her knee squeezing it kind-heartedly.

“You’ll not.” She feels like every tulip of light around her’s sparkling – the buzz of having his company tingling her in good way, “Promise?” She asks and Harry lifts his pinky in between them encouraging her to bring her's.

She wasn’t serious about the promise thing it was more onto sarcastic side than to sincerity.

“Promise.” His dimples caters deep and his eyes crinkles when different golden lights dances against her skin making her look prettier than she’s.

He’s gonna fulfill his promise.

Y/N could be sentimental given on occasions and how bad the situation’s – but she bottles it up for good amount until later, it all crushes her completely and she’s unable to stand back.

Now, when there’s eerie quietness in the bus and the world infront of her fades behind in weird shapes and forms in her head because of the speed of vehicle – her mind thought it’d be best time to remorse over what happened to her and her eyes well up at that.

Harry plucks his headphones down upon hearing her soft sniffles and turns her towards him with her shoulder, “Y/N hey ....” His voice tender and dewy as he slides his palm under her jaw and cups her cheek to wipe out her tears with the mild stroke of his thumb.

His gentleness rakes out an agonising sob from inside her and she feels like her organs are clashing together.

“Shh. Bambi you’re okay now, ‘s alright you’re here with me -- shh, ‘m so sorry love —- but it’s over now, yeah? We're going home and I’ll make you chamomile tea, could ‘ve both snowy and trippers cuddle with you while I’ll get you all warm and nice inside this new fluffy blanket I just bought! – how does that sound?” He pets her hair. Brings her closer to his chest and she keeps her nose tucked against his clavicles to stop from crying and make a show.

When she nods, suckling a wet breath he swipes a loose errand of her hair behind, “Sounds good yeah?” She just hums snuggling into him.

Her arms slowly loops around his love-handles and he stows her head under his chin -- rubs her back in circles to soothe the stiff muscles, covers her ears with the headphones he was wearing before – plays acoustic version of Landslide by Fleetwood Mac and simpers when she hiccups his name, but doesn’t respond when he answers – his ears turns pink from fond and his belly overglows with butterflies as she babbles his name till she drops into peaceful sleep.

Y/N found herself in his bed with snowy and trippers ontop of her and Harry snoring on the couch – his gangly limbs not fitting at all.

She really wanted to call him and sleep on his bed, but she drowses back to slumber.

“Grumpy jerk and an actual ray of sunshine. Sorry, couldn’t process it – too much.” Rori teased Harry the last time they gathered and Y/N was there too! though the true statement was claimed after her departure.

Harry’s friends couldn’t believe that he stepped out of his comfort zone and made a new cute friend, now after one year of their friendship it doesn’t feel like they’re neighbours anymore –-- it's just one big home with an alleyway in between.

“What're y'doin', moppet?” Harry chuckles picking up the half eaten packet of crisps, chewy sour candies, wrappers of oreos and the romcom CDs they were playing before.

Y/N's sprawled on her tummy. Feetsie in air and her chin secured in her palm as she looks like she’s seriously about to take an admission in med school –-- she’s concentrating real hard on the thick book under her, eyes fixated on the diagrams of teeth – it makes Harry laugh like a maniac.

“Aish. Your books, gives me an ache.” She massages her forehead, shakes her head as if she tasted something icky and pushes his book away. Harry laughs harder at her antics wrappers flying away from his grasp and he flops onto couch –-- thighs spreading wide and back sinking into the cushions.

“Where?” His lips rumbles as he tries to hold back another fits of laughter when she gets his dirty joke and pouts, lips fluttering into a smile until she bursts into giggles joining him.

“Nope. My cookie doesn’t throb like it used to sneaking on reproduction chapters in biology.” Harry roars out a cackle at that and Y/N grins fiddling with the frizz of her socks, “Heyyyy it’s not funny –- very much sad.”

He suckles a breath in, their grins achy and big, “Stuff your cookie with some jam ‘n you'll be alright.”

“You’re gross!” She fake gags. Hunches over to exaggerate the severity and scares the shit out of Harry when she gasps loudly slapping his knee, “Harry! Harry! Oh my gosh.....ahhhh!” She gallops like a bunny towards the window and gazes up at the sky with glinting eyes, “Harry look! It’s snowing.” He trots behind her with a roll of eyes knowing what’s about to come next.

When she turns around with sparkly grin, hands clasped atop her chest and tippy-toes to beg him, Harry shuts his lids, “No Muffy.” Y/N loves eating chocolate muffins –-- eating them whenever she could possibly ... and that’s how the pet name Harry decided to call her was muffy.

“Please, it would be so fun .. we could have hot chocolate afterwards.” She mumbles tugging at the hem of his chunky yarn sweater.

“Nothing’s fun about snow angles, Muffyyyy!!” He whines. Squinting down at her with one eye and finds her all slumpy, head falling downwards.

“Okie then. ‘m going to sleep.” She mutters in a meek voice pushing past him –-- but he wraps his hand around her wrist and pulls her back to himself, chuckling with wide eyes, “You’re very dramatic and annoyin’ y’know that?”

Instead, she grins bobbing her head shamelessly, pats his chest and dashes to wear his warm jacket, “Biscuits on you -- hot chocolate on me.” She tells him slipping into her shoes with the support of doorframe.

He comes closer to her and her heart thuds into her tiny ribs as he zips his jacket she’s wearing up till her neck and warns her while pulling out her hair, “If I get sick – ‘m gettin'y sick too.”

Harry’s waiting outside the candy shop Y/N just barged in moments ago. He refused to step inside – knowing she’ll use him as a taste tester and at the end of the day his tongue would have a mountain sugar atop his taste buds.

The spring breeze flowery and warm. He shakes his head, smiles softly watching her switch aisles and guffaws loudly catching attention of an old couple siting on the bench behind -- at her eagerness when she started chomping onto the long chewy candy right after getting it from the cashier.

“That’s g'na rot your teeth even before your forties.” He tells her taking the small bag from her and walks beside her, “Your kids are gonna hate you ...” She tells him –- stretching out the candy with her teeth.

“You sure, y'were allowed colas and candies in childhood?” He teases her prodding her side so she throws it at his chest making him laugh and he bends down to pick it up and dump it in bin.

“You’ve got a cute bum.” She whistles and Harry’s cheeks bashes with blush – turns around and wiggles herself, “How's mine?” She hums glancing back at him with cheeky grin.

“Ten by two, I guess?” He bites down a smirk when she spins to face him a bit gobsmacked, “Not even five?” She grumps chin doubling as she tries to see her bum herself.

“Six then?” He giggles enjoying how she’s getting riled up out of nowhere and she stomps away from him so he jogs to catch her, “Bambi. Was kiddin'.”

“You owe me two muffins with the amount of insults you’ve caused my poor bum.” He knuckles at her hair and she slaps him away like a feisty kitten, “I take it back –-- you’re really ten by two.”

“Oi!!!” Now, she’s running behind him. His curls blowing away and his coat ruffling with the zephyr, his head falling back with the belly-ache laughter that bounces against the bricked walls of shops.

It’s Friday night. Y/N is doing her laundry. Plucking out Harry’s socks from Trippers furry ear, her kitties sleeping in bassinet. Harry and Y/N have named them Tum, Tug and Truggers –-- she sits back on her heels upon hearing her door closing and hikes the small basket on her hip trudging outside —-- she didn’t had any clothes that could make her feel warm during these days – even her socks were all soggy -- so was Harry’s, now all she’s gonna do is make a blanket fort and hide in it for hours.

She knuckles at her eyes, blinking the tiredness away to see properly who’s standing in the middle of room, “Harry?” He's wearing a graduation gown and tips his hat with a sheepish smile then waves his degree infront of her, “Guess who's a proper dentist now!?” She’s frozen to her spot –- jaw slacked and eyes blown away in surprise.

“Your bad boi!” The basket falls from her hip onto the floor scaring Trippers and she whispers an, “Oh my goodness.” Before, stumbling towards him and crashes in his arms giving him a tight loving hug. He slinks his forearms around her and squishes his face into the crook of her neck, lips tickling her skin and if it was possible for him to freeze the time and cherish it for some more he'd.

“I’m so proud of you.” She mumbles into him with a grin. He feels so worthy and every hardship he faced now feels like nothing, this's how life supposed be throughout –- but best things always bores fruit for the right time.

“How about we celebrate? Just you and me.” Just you and me. It feels nice to just her and him. Makes her heart swoon. Makes her feel like skies outside are wet and pink, “Umm .. can we celebrate here? It’s okay .... “ She shifts on her feet and he furrows his brows in confusion, lips ticked up as if he’s scrutinizing her.

“You and not goin' nutters for an outing .. seems odd —-,” Then his eyes falls over the surrounding, a heating pad beside his feet – aloe fused socks hanging to get dry, a tray of chocolate muffins, kettle on the coffee table so he puts one and one together himself.

“Oh muffy —-... pizza and cuddles then?” If he wouldn’t be aware of how first few days of her period are hell for her then who would? He’s always making her pot meals and curry rice – feeds her and gets all strict when she refuses to eat anything. She looses her appetite and transforms into something ‘if zombie had a baby with vampire -- it sure looked like you’ he'd always scold her.

Even bribe her with candies. Once they were awfully painful and Y/N really didn’t want to be all dramatic not when their friends were having a good time, she doesn’t like to be a party pooper.

But, when a stinging cramp cut through her pelvis and thighs she was hunching forward with a jolt -- all teary eyes and wobbly lips. Harry left everything and rushed towards her, sitting on his knees on the floor and cupped her throat to make her look at him when she refused to, “Y/N ‘m serious -- you rather tell me what’s happening with ye’ or ‘m throwin' you at my shoulder and takin’ you hospital —... cause fuck look at you been like this since morning ....” He was rambling and Y/N felt like drilling a hole into floor and hide herself there forever.

She was mortified and embarrassed, a terrible combination.

She wasn’t able to tell him infront of all of their friends even though it’s something very normal, so everyone stared and nodded when they left they for Harry’s room.

“Bambi are you okay? I’m not even kidding something’s not —-..” She wipes her nose and tugs at his wrist trying to shush him, when he doesn’t pushes a fingers against his lips.

“Don’t worry. ‘m good --- just —-... umm I’m on my periods.” She rubs her one feet on another and his mouth fall into an ‘o' when realization hit him and his brows clinches together sternly.

He sighs running his fingers through his hair, something he does when frustrated and whumpy.

“Should’ve told me. We could have done this later ... do you want anything? I’ve got pain —--,” His words swells on his tongue when her head bumps against his chest and her hands locks around his neck, hugging him with all her gentle will because nobody has ever cared for her –-- him being so tentative to her makes her want to sob into his chest.

He warms her in all the right places.

“How’re you feeling on scale of one to ten?” He speaks while chewing onto the stuffed crust of pizza. They’re cosied up on the sofa while Mama Mia plays on the telly and she’s cuddled up into him, he's holding her heat pad with the grip of his forearm and she lifts her head mousey-ly from his bicep and whispers – “Eightish...? Now, you’re Dr.Styles.” He giggles at her and pushes her head back against him with his finger.

“What does my being dentist has a connection to your periods?” He dips the pads of his fingers into her pudgy love handles and squeezes them -- she giggles thinking about the joke she’s about to crack.

“You pull teeth, it’s blood and I pull out tampon so it’s —...” Harry chuckles gruntly at her and tickles her more, “Oh no. I know where it’s goin'....”

“You asked for it!” She pouts at him and he squishes her lips together as if she’s a duck toy.

Then they flump back into their cuddling position and Harry rubs her tummy in tender soothing circles, it helps her relax and his breath syncs with her and she really tries not to pay attention to her bratty screaming hormones heating her skin up – her thighs experiencing a quiver and she squeaks down a huffy whimper.

“You okay?” Harry asks. When she squirms against him and she gulps -- they don’t hide stuff from eachother so she tells him honestly, “You’re really turning me on.” Harry’s heart hiccups at that and his palms still over her thighs.

“Is that so?”

He pets her hair and tries to make her stand, “Just go to washroom and jizz one out.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t? Why?”

“Promise me you wouldn’t make fun....” He frowns and nods bringing his pinky to make the deal.

She clutches her sweater down to her knees, cheeks rosy and mutters out in one breath – “I’ve specific days for that....” Harry really tires to. He locks up his laughs in his lungs and it aches his chest, his cheeks balloons up but at last he rolls onto floor and guffaws into his elbow.

“You said you wouldn’t make fun!!!” She whines kicking his side lightly and he grabs her ankle, “This means all those times you’d be all locked up –- oh my god, you were playing with yourself.” She folds her arms. Her nostrils flares with irritation and she doesn’t even spare him a glance.

“Pet, waiting so long .. it’s a torture to yourself.” He tells her genuinely sitting up with crossed legs and she mumbles knuckling at her eyes, “just some reasons ... horny is bad.” Now, Harry feels kind of terrible pushy person and he really wants to help her out but he’s walking on egg shells here. So, he stops asking anything.

“Rori's girlfriend is a sex therapist —-“ She becomes all fidgety at that and Harry takes in her nervousness, “It’s totally fine if you don’t want to.” He exclaims waving his hands and she gulps giving him a small nod.

“Night time fo' some grumpy muffy!” He coos, brings the blanket to her chin and his pupils dilate adorningly when she asks him, “Could I snuggle you?”

“Ofcourse.” He pecks her temple and tells her to budge over before sandwiching her between him and the sofa.

That whole night all his mind could think was why horny is bad for her?

Y/N was feeling overly warm and heated, a tad achy between her thighs. She vigorously tries to focus on something else but her chest is heaving at this point, even opens the windows and let the cool air hit her but no use –- so she does what have to be done in order to get rid of the throb.

She cosies herself on the bed, switches onto hentai and throws her legs in air to shimmy her sheer white panty down.

“Oh ...” Whimpers teeny-ly when her fingers brushing up her soaking pussyfolds provides her a bit relief – her soft hands wanders beneath her flimsy shirt and touches her skin in the most arousing way possible –-- tweaks her nipples and jerks up, oozing more wetness.

“Ah! Fuck.” She moans easing in two fingers at once and cramps down at them watching the hentai porn –- but it’s not enough, she’s been pushing her fingers in and out for ten minutes now—she’s unable to get to climax.

So she groans sits up and switches to domineering audios, listens to it while fingering herself hard and she has no idea from where her mind gathered these images from -- but -- soon she’s thinking about Harry’s husky rasp, his sea-foam beautiful eyes and those rosy knuckles ring clad hands —-- imagining him holding her down into mattress and pounding into her at a brutal pace, making her sit on his cock and not letting her move –-- his fingers down her petty throat —-- him spanking her ass if she let’s out any voice out and he'd roar at her beg as she'd be lurking at her tenth orgasm –---- every plausible dirty stuff with him.

She was so engulfed into making herself feel good, lost in her own headspace and imaginations that she didn’t hear footsteps approaching and it’s like she manifested him as he stands at the door-frame with blown away pupils –-- guppy mouth and she’s squealing feeling dizzy upon sitting up this quick.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck —-... sorry sorry ... “ He covers his eyes and turns to walk away but bumps his head with a thud into doorframe.

She gasps, knees up and almost shouts, “No!” making him halt mid-track and she’s on the verge of tears, red face and shaky fingers.

“Please ....”

“Stay.”

Harry’s eyes turns soft at that and he walks towards bed, licks his lips wet and brushes the loose tress of her hair away.

“You want me to stay, muffy?” He asks to make sure – she isn’t in haze and all fog minded.

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

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