#i seriously have been considering it for a while
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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ COFFEE TALK
INTRODUCTION FIC TO 'THE ART OF REMEMBRANCE'
—the rare moments of free time allow you and your boyfriend to talk about anything and everything that comes to mind... at this point, you two might as well be the third division's free podcast!
—wc: 1050; fluff but mostly crack
—original canon, x fem!reader, you and hoshina are just silly, hibino leno and kikoru mentions, one cuss, general pov more or less, i advocate for silly unhinged dynamics
—rimi's ramble: told myself not to rush the series but i wrote this in one sitting... my summer's gonna be spent writing about this man, buckle up folks! >:]
The Third Division considers you and Hoshina as their power couple.
Charming looks paired with commanding auras, levels of strength that no one would dare go against, all topped off with endearing one-of-a-kind personalities. Two puzzle pieces that fit as if they’re made for each other. It probably would’ve been more surprising if you two hated each other’s guts than to see you two end up together.
Everyone within the division quickly accepted and supported your relationship with the Vice Captain. And with that support comes your status as the “local loveteam”, which became both an inside joke and a makeshift badge of honor (if one could even call it that).
Though in their defense, there isn't even any sort of competition to begin with seeing as you two are the only couple within the division.
Every member, no matter how long they’ve been in the Defense Force, holds high respect towards both of you. They trust you with a lot of things—the wisdom you both give to your members is actually useful, and your attack combos on the field are nothing to scoff at.
Yes, they would trust you two with their lives, and yes, the way they’d say it might blur the lines of comedy and seriousness. There’s simply one thing that’s holding everyone off…
No one trusts the both of you with coffee.
Ironic, considering it’s one of Vice Captain Hoshina’s favorite things.
It’s somewhat of an inside joke that whenever a member enters the lounge room and they’re greeted by the rich inviting scent of brewed coffee, they will be tuning in to some sort of a podcast episode hosted by their one and only dynamic duo.
No one session is the same. Sometimes you two end up talking about some story you happened to have read or a personal experience that quickly becomes a storytime. Other days, it’s just opening as many controversial topics as you both can while expressing your opinions in a lighthearted debate. One time, to the division’s surprise, you two started doing a deep dive into a conspiracy theory, complete with a whole digital presentation and proven statistics.
It’s even more surprising how convincingly well put the entire thing was, to the point even Captain Ashiro listened in with interest.
In all honesty, this little routine of sorts is fine for the members, enjoyable even. It’s a chance to hold more conversations about different non-kaiju-related topics thanks to you and Hoshina’s exceptionally random conversation starters. Everyone only prays that you guys don’t open up a topic that might get you random looks at best, or—hypothetically—get the both of you canceled on the internet at worst.
Today was one of those days, the team figured, when you and your boyfriend step into the (initially busy) lounge with matching porcelain cups holding the same coffee drink. Hibino, Leno, and Kikoru were the ones present in the room… this would probably be their first time listening in on the two of you rambling.
“I don’t know, Soshiro-san, don’t you think that may be a little too intense?” you made a beeline and assumed your spot on the couch right in front of Kikoru, drinking from your cup the moment you sat on the soft cushion.
Hoshina follows after you and settles right by your side, “No way!” If he weren’t holding anything, you can envision the way he’d cross his arms and huff. He mimics your movements from a while ago, taking a sip from his drink before placing the cup down with a small ‘clink!’.
A childish pout graces his lips as he stares right at you. “If you think hard enough, I’m telling ya, dicing those kaiju is just like makin’ intricate fruit carvings!”
May the gods give the juniors strength because what the actual fuck were you two talking about?
The room is radio silent. You and Hoshina continue to glare at each other as if you’re both in a mental debate. Which seems likely enough.
Kikoru nudges Leno’s arm to get him to break the ice and the poor guy sputters. Hibino breaks into a cold sweat when he catches the way you and Hoshina sharply look at the three of them.
“V-Vice Captain..! (Name)-san… go–good afternoon!” Leno prays his salute doesn’t give away the fact he’s shaking.
By record, this may have to be the oddest conversation they’ve heard in passing.
You flash the three of them a small smile and Hoshina does a small wave of his hands. Not even a second later, the man beside you jumps at the opportunity to find allies for his claim.
“You guys think that slicing kaiju is like slicing fruits, right?”
Bless your soul that you’re stubborn enough to match his energy. “If anything, it’s more like carving wood! You have to be intricate about it!”
Hoshina looks back at you like you’ve transformed into the kaiju you were talking about, “Wood carving?! Darlin’ I love you more than the coffee I’m drinking right now, but you’ve reached a new level of insanity!”
“Comparing anything to kaiju neutralization is already some form of insanity…” Leno whispers under his breath. “Let alone wood carving and fruit dicing…” Kikoru whispers to him in agreement.
“Aww, you love me more than coffee?”
The immediate shift from a lighthearted argument to some sappy lovey dovey confession while talking about carving patterns on kaiju may be just as impressive as your combat prowess, the trio decides.
Hibino breathes a sigh of relief and starts murmuring, “Those two fit each other so well… wonder if it’s a match made in heaven or hell…”
“We’re soulmates!” Hoshina corrects him, instinctively reaching out to hold your hands as if it’ll prove his point further. He gently laces his fingers with yours before glowering at Hibino, “You also kinda called us demons with the whole hell comment. Thirty push-ups for the three of you, ya hear?”
Leno nudges his senior’s ribs like he wants to end him right then and there. Kikoru was probably devising ways to successfully kill him on the spot. Hibino’s fighting for his life, but he still manages to catch the way you and Hoshina look at each other with mirroring lovesick smiles.
If he manages to scrape out alive, maybe this coffee talk wasn’t that bad.
likes and reblogs are appreciated, but please don’t copy or repost my work!
[posted: 061124]
#💟.series#🎐rimi.works#kaiju no 8 x reader#kn8 x reader#kaiju no. 8#kn8#soshiro hoshina#soshiro hoshina x reader#hoshina soshiro#hoshina soshiro x reader#kaiju no. 8 fluff#hoshina x reader#hoshina fluff
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AU where mattheo is a boudoir photographer and you go in and can't help getting so turned on and he sees the wet spot form and u end up getting railed on camera 🥹
No, because he'd be so prolific in the sex community. He'd totally be a porn star too, doing his own stuff. He's basically a superstar, and everyone is dying to get photographed by him because the shoots most of the time turn out to become videos if the model consents beforehand. He's been in so many affairs, and he's lost count of how many times he's been in fights because of angry spouses.
It's a normal Tuesday for him, and he's already done a handful of shoots, with only one of them being a video, which he's already edited and plans on uploading that night. He only has one shoot left and he's looking forward to going home and simply doing nothing for the rest of the day.
"Um.. h- hello is this the right studio? I'm here for a boudoir photoshoot?" You step into the studio, a Victoria's secret bag hanging off your arm and a sweet smile on your face. He's instantly out of his chair to greet the sweet little thing that's stumbled into his studio.
"Don't worry, princess, you're in the right place." He's grinning like a wolf, helping you with your bag, and ushering you further into the studio. You're the prettiest thing he has ever laid eyes on, and when he goes to check, he finds out you only booked a shoot, and he seriously considers asking you if you've ever been interested in doing a video. Seeing as how that would be inappropriate, he decided not to. "So what brought you here, pretty girl?" He asks while handing you the certain paperwork you needed to fill out before the shoot could begin.
Your face heats up at the rumble of his voice, and the nickname sends a jolt that runs straight to your core. "Well, I have a friend that is in the industry." You gave him a shy look, batting your eyelashes and making him weak in the knees. "And she said these types of photo shoots can really help with boosting confidence and comfortability with your body—actually, she recommended you." You explained, filling out the forms and handing them back to them.
"Ahh, so no spouse or anyone at home?" He asked, raising a brow. You? Single? He internally thanked whatever was out there for this insane luck. He didn't care what he had to do to get it, but he was taking you home. You shook your head, giggling awkwardly. "No- i'm afraid I'm single."
"Oh-" Your eyes lit up slightly, and you held up Victoria's secret bag. "I brought a few sets that maybe I could use in the photos i- if you don't mind, of course."
Ohh, this was gonna be the start of something beautiful.
#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle prompt#reader insert#slytherin boys#harry potter
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John Price who hadn't ever considered the idea of getting married even after figuring out he's bi. In the years he and Nik were together it still held only a dim interest to him, and he knew it wasn't necessarily what Nik would have preferred, but they never butted heads over it. Nik would ask about it every few years or so, but never with much seriousness from what John could tell.
Suddenly, it's been three years since Phillip showed up and wormed his way into their relationship, and John's been... thinking. He's seen how happy Phillip is to have partners in them, and he knows Nik is in second Heaven about it. But he's also still seeing people approach them both when they're out at night, and hell, he's had to fend off advances too. It bothers him.
He caves. Fine, maybe he's still not 100% sure about the whole marriage thing, and it's not like 3 people can get married anywhere they live anyhow. But no one needs to get married just to wear rings, he tells himself as he carefully wraps the pair of small boxes while Nik and Phillip are out of the flat.
He knows it was the right thing to do when he watches Phillip's face light up like Christmas. Nik stares at his gift for a second before shaking his head and muttering something in Russian and disappearing into their bedroom. John has a few seconds to get a little nervous before Nik returns--with a small cardboard box that he puts down firmly in front of John.
Nik folds his arms and gestures for him to open it, so he does. Phillip bursts out laughing, and John puts his head in his hand while Nik explains to Phillip.
"I have been asking this ridiculous man about marriage every few years now for over a DECADE. And he says not interested! Not interested!!"
"How long have you had this?" John asks quietly, staring at the gold and silver band.
"NINE FUCKING YEARS, MY LOVE. Just in case you change your mind, you impossible man! But here! You do this?? Without so much as dropping hints??" He gestures to the gold band sitting in his gift box and the black and silver one already in Phillip's hands. "Unbelievable. Kate will be die laughing at me. Are you happy? She will die, John--"
"I didn't know!"
“It’s been so long…”
“Nik…”
“I’ve waited so long for this- My heart can’t handle this!”
“Nikolai-“
“I knew I’d have to wait for you to make the move but fuck I didn’t think it would take you this long!”
“Stop being dramatic- Phil breathe-“
#*screaming and sobbing*#i love them so much#call of duty#modern warfare#john price#cod nikolai#phillip graves#ask#thanks for the ask <3#drabble#ficlet#pricenik#pricegravesnik#nikpricegraves
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religion's in your lips
third year to timeskip!hinata x fem!reader, a tad suggestive
It’s Shoyo’s fault.
You don’t join Shoyo’s outings often; most of them are volleyball-related anyway, and you didn’t want to get in the way. But right now, it’s just the third years, and Shoyo had begged so sweetly with round eyes that you would be cruel to even think about denying him.
Kageyama sits on your other side, stiff and polite, jostled here and there by Shoyo pressing up against you. Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, and Yachi sit on the other side of the table. Conversation is light and comfortable. They don’t exclude you even when talking about practice matches and lineups—Yamaguchi asks you about your own club ever so often, too.
Yamaguchi claps his hand, forcing everyone’s attention on him. Except Shoyo, who’s busy tracing stars on your hand. “Do you guys want to watch a movie this weekend? I heard they’re releasing a sequel of the one we watched back in first year.”
Yachi emits a wordless sound of excitement, easily agreeing. Kageyama and Tsukishima begrudgingly agree at the same time, then sneer at each other. Then they all turn to you and Shoyo.
Shoyo grins. “Sorry, I got plans already.”
“You get a girlfriend, and suddenly you forget about us,” Yamaguchi mourns. Shoyo laughs while you get flustered and assure them that you’re not keeping your boyfriend hostage. Kageyama says that they know Hinata is the one doing it.
“You’re going to watch our match next week, though, right?” Shoyo asks you in a low whisper, as the other three dutifully settle in their own world.
“You don’t even need to ask, Shoyo,” you tell him. “Of course.”
Shoyo’s eyes brighten impossibly, face split into a grin. He looks like he wants to push you down onto the floor to kiss you in front of his friends, but he doesn’t. You knew he wouldn’t.
It’s Shoyo’s fault.
Really. Seriously this time. Specifically, Hinata Shoyo from third year. He’s changed from first year, gained more confidence, but he’s still shy and soft-spoken with you, which you expected from someone as sweet as him. It set your expectations for him and what your relationship would look like in the years and years that you’ll spend with him: bearing that first love kind of shyness.
It takes about two years to prove you wrong.
When Shoyo came back from Brazil, the first thing he did was kiss you breathless in front of everyone in the airport.
His strong arms around your waist, pulling you up—which you had to think ‘thank God’ for because your knees have definitely buckled. You don’t think too much about it, because he’s been gone for two years—two!!—and you’ve missed each other too much.
But when Hinata’s mouth descends to your jaw, you have to push him by the chest and exclaim (albeit weakly), “Shoyo—there are still people behind us!”
Shoyo blinks and pulls off, his eyes fogged over with heat that makes you have to look away, having to remind yourself that you’re in public and you do not want to beg for him to continue. Thankfully, his friends yelling his name seems to have snapped him out of it.
But his palm never left your side, splayed over your hip like a mark.
It gets worse at his homecoming party thrown by his teammates back at Karasuno. You’re familiar with them, and they’re familiar with you, so of course, it wasn’t a problem when Shoyo was pulled away to greet everyone. You made friendly conversation with Sugawara-san, caught up with Nishinoya, and joked around all night with Yamaguchi and Tsukishima.
“You called each other every night?” Yamaguchi’s brows have shot up all the way to his hairline.
You smile. “I mean—isn’t it normal for people in a relationship?”
Tsukishima shrugs. “Hinata loves you as much as he loves volleyball, I’m not surprised.”
Yamaguchi considers it. “Hmm, I guess.”
“Hinata’s waiting for you,” Kageyama mutters from behind you, appearing out of nowhere. His brows are stitched together, and his mouth is pulled in his ever-permanent Kageyama pout. “His staring is pissing me off. Can you go get him?”
“He’s not a dog, Tobio,” you chide lightly but grin all the same when you turn to your side and see Hinata Shoyo’s eyes drilling holes into your head.
He’s not mouthing anything. Shoyo stays seated on the loveseat, looking entirely isolated from the crowd around him. His eyes say it all: come here.
Helpless to his whims, you obey.
“Shoyo,” you murmur as soon as you reach him.
He pulls you to his lap. “Baby.”
You freeze. He’s never called you that before—his expression isn’t shy at all, too, just expectant. Heat crawls down your body as he tugs your back to his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder. Shoyo’s own warmth is a burning sensation. You feel lightheaded.
“Ah—well, um.” You pinch your arm. “Are you feeling okay? Did you drink?”
“There’s no alcohol here.”
“I’m pretty sure I saw Sugawara-san holding a bottle.”
“Ah, well. Sugawara-san.”
You understand. What you don’t understand is what happened in those two years to have Shoyo’s hand crawling on your thigh, a scorching mark on only that part of your skin. To have Shoyo’s breath on the nape of your neck without him flushing and flinching away. To have Shoyo have this air of confidence around him that’s usually in volleyball suddenly translate to you.
“Did you miss me this much?”
“You have no idea, don’t you?” The implications are clear: I could show you how much, if you want.
Still, this development is very sudden. You squirm on his lap, but Shoyo doesn’t relent. He keeps you there, a puddle in his hands. Nobody is watching—or maybe they’re just being respectful, but you feel flustered facing this side of Shoyo in public.
“Shoyo,” you warn. “Not here.”
It’s Heitor’s fault.
Ever since Hinata had met Heitor and Nice and witnessed how unapologetically intimate they were with each other, Hinata became envious. He wanted that, too. He wanted that with you.
“Well, why wouldn’t you?” Heitor asked when Hinata lamented to him.
Hinata made a pitiful noise, like a deflating balloon. “I don’t know. I think she just thinks I’m too cute to take that seriously.”
Heitor laughs. “Shoyo. Trust me. You’ll drive your girl crazy if you’re confident with it.”
It’s Heitor’s fault, and Hinata is eternally grateful for it, seeing your wide-eyed face beneath him like this. He loves it when he surprises people, but yours might be a different kind of thrill that he’s already addicted to.
#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu x reader#hinata shouyou x reader#hinata shoyo imagine#shoyo hinata x reader#hinata shoyo x reader#hinata shoyo x you
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Honestly we all talk about how much Brooklynn's fake death affected the rest of the Camp Fam and how hurt they all are, but a lot of people don't consider: how must Brooklynn have been feeling? Because I seriously doubt she's having fun while having to pretend that she's dead.
She probably got into this mess believing she could handle everything on her own but she turned out to be, well, way over her head. She was nearly killed, lost a hand, and had to go into hiding. For months, she's likely been isolated except for the contact with Ronnie and maybe someone else. She couldn't contact her dads and her friends at all-- because they all think she is dead. Hell, I already said it once, but if Ronnie was in touch with her and she kept seeing Darius around, she might have even heard from her about how Darius was doing, that he was depressed and he'd quit his job and became obsessed. I'm guessing she could also be imagining how the others were doing. Can you imagine how that must feel? Being fully aware that the people she cares about the most in the world are all suffering because of her loss, and that she could easily tell them the truth but she doesn't because she most likely would be risking both her and their necks? Being all alone after everything that happened to her? Damn
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Ruin the Friendship
Summary: It's Ella's birthday, and her best friend Harry plans to tell her how he feels about her.
Warnings: None, just sweet, sugary fluff
Word Count: 5.2k+
A/N: Uni!Harry x OC, AU, friends to lovers one shot written in third person, originally from 2019. I think my first plan back then was to include some smut, but as I was writing, I decided it was not needed. I think you'll see why and agree. Also, Liam and Niall are in this one :).
Ella was his best friend. Some people would say Niall was Harry’s best mate, and while he considered that to be true for the most part, if anyone was to ask, he’d proudly declare that Ella took the title. They’d only known each other since the first year of uni, but in that time they’d grown very close, and if Harry was honest, there were things they shared that he didn’t share with the lads.
Not things like details about girls he fancied or the head he’d gotten that one time from Marla Lemons. He could only talk shit like that with his mates, and he reckoned Ella wouldn’t wanna hear about it anyway. But they could have deep conversations well into the night about nothing and anything, musing about life and death and what it all really meant. He’d known Niall for nearly a decade, and while he could chat him up about complete random shit, he wasn’t the type to talk about things like that.
Sometimes it was nice to have a friend to just chat about nothing with.
One thing he’d never been able to tell Ella, however, was that he secretly wanted to be more than friends. He’d never made a move, and other than holding her hand when she was scared at the haunted house or wiping her tears when she’d cried about an exam she’d failed, he’d barely touched her. Something had happened that first year at university that had put them in the friend zone, and he eventually accepted that was just how it was meant to be. At least for a while. But this last year had been different. Something had shifted, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
Harry stood in the kitchen, his hand around a red cup filled with some sort of concoction that smelled entirely too sweet. He didn’t really want to get shit-faced tonight, that wasn’t his plan. Not that he really had a plan. But it was Ella’s birthday, and if he had anything to say about it, it would be her best one yet. The last three had been fun as far as he could recall, except for the time some girl Niall had been dating...Lena? Lorna?...had gotten so wasted she threw up on the rug. Ella, being the kind soul she was, insisted on cleaning up, holding her nose with a clothespin until Harry finally pulled her away, yelling at Niall that he should clean up his own girlfriend’s puke. Later that night, sat with Ella up on the roof, Harry had thought about confessing his feelings to her. But it just hadn’t felt like the right time, and given that he was still pretty drunk himself, he was afraid Ella would simply blame it on that and not take him seriously.
So the friendship continued.
“Hey mate, you gonna drink that or are you trying to read your future in it?”
Lifting his head, Harry saw his friend Liam enter the kitchen, walking up to the counter beside him and pouring himself a cup of the same pink liquid.
“What’s in this?” Harry asked.
“Hell if I know,” Liam shrugged before taking a large gulp. “Mmm, tastes like bubblegum.”
“Blech!” Harry sounded after taking his own sip, making a face of disgust. “Nah man, where’s the good stuff?”
“Right here, mate!” exclaimed Niall as he strutted into the kitchen with a case of beer in each hand. Two more lads followed him in, carrying the same. Leave it to Niall.
“Not what I meant,” muttered Harry, walking around them to the living room.
The front door opened then, and another handful of people entered, some he knew, some he didn’t. He recognized Vickie, Ella’s roommate among them and when she spotted Harry she smiled.
“Birthday girl’s on her way,” she announced, setting a bag on the counter. Harry noticed the clinking sound it made which made his ears perk up.
“Harry!” Liam called as Vickie pulled out the bottles of both brown and clear liquor. “I think this is what you were looking for!”
Turning back to the kitchen, Harry eyed the bottles and was about to make a decision when a commotion started behind him. It wasn’t a surprise party, but it seemed every girl in the house had run to the front door to greet Ella when she arrived. Harry stood back, his hands in his pockets as he watched her beautiful smile, the pink in her cheeks when her friends hugged her or wished her a happy birthday.
He contemplated stepping forward to give her his own wishes, but soon thought better of it, deciding he’d give her time with her girlfriends first. Instead he made himself a drink, a proper strong one. At least one, he told himself. He didn’t need to get hammered, but he’d need the liquid courage if this was to finally be the night he told her how he felt about her. While he was at it, he reckoned he’d make a drink for Ella as well. He knew what she liked.
“Happy Birthday Ella!” he heard Liam exclaim over the loud music.
Harry looked up from his drink to see that the lad had beat him to the punch as he offered Ella a red cup of what he could only assume was the disgusting pink shit. He chuckled when he saw her make a face and shake her head.
“Um, no thanks, darling,” she said. “I think I’ll see if Harry has something more to my liking at the bar.”
He felt a warmth ooze throughout his body at both the mention of his name and the fact that she called the simple kitchen island with a handful of liquor bottles a bar. He watched as she took a couple strides through the living room and met him with a smile.
“What’ve we got here, bartender?” she asked.
Harry raised a brow. “Oh am I bartender? No one told me.”
“I’m joking,” she giggled, placing a hand on his bicep. “But can you make me something? I am the birthday girl, after all.”
With a smirk, Harry handed her the drink he’d mixed. “Just so happens I already did.”
A wide smile spread across Ella’s face as she took the cup. “See, this is why we’re besties.”
Harry’s face fell, but he quickly tried to compose himself. Clearing his throat, he nodded. “Yeah. You bet.”
Besties. Right.
“Hey, Ells Bells!” they suddenly heard behind them. They both turned to see Niall rushing towards Ella, nearly knocking her drink out of her hand when he enveloped her in a hug.
Harry rolled his eyes. He hated Niall’s stupid nickname for her. He suspected Ella wasn’t too keen on it either, especially when Harry’d slipped up once and called her that himself. She’d told him it was Niall’s name and she’d rather just leave it at that.
“Hello, Niall,” she greeted graciously, kissing him on either cheek.
“Who’s up for a game?” he asked.
Harry grimaced, knowing what kind of game Niall had in mind. But if Ella wanted to play…
“No thanks,” she shook her head. “I think I’ll sit it out this year, love, if it’s all the same.”
Niall shrugged. “Suit yourself. ‘s your birthday.”
“Besides,” Ella added with a cheeky grin, “I don’t want to end up like dear Lorna.”
Harry covered his mouth with his hand, nearly spewing out its contents. When he swallowed, he let out a loud guffaw, causing Niall’s cheeks to redden.
“Eat shit, the both o’ ya,” Niall spat before grabbing another beer from the cooler.
When he’d joined the group in the living room, the majority of them cheering at the prospect of a drinking game, Ella turned to Harry, her face flushed from laughing.
“You’re not gonna play?” she inquired.
“Nah, I’d rather not.”
“Wow. Harry Styles is not interested in getting smashed at a party?” she mocked. “Is the sky falling? Did I miss something?”
“No,” he replied with a shake of his head. “Just don’t feel like it tonight. I mean, I’m still drinking. Just...responsibly.”
“Uh huh. We’ll see how you are in an hour or two.”
“Oh we will?” he quirked a brow.
“Yeah. I’ll check in on you, but don’t expect me to hold your hair back when you’re retching in the toilet.”
He chuckled at their playful banter. He enjoyed taking the piss and teasing each other, even if Ella only thought of it as a friend thing. She didn’t need to know it gave him a boner sometimes.
“Styles, you’re not playing?” Liam called from the living room where a large group had gathered around the coffee table.
Harry simply held up his hands.
“It’s early yet,” Ella winked.
Early, indeed, Harry thought. Too early. He wanted this night to be over already, or at least get past the first part so he could possibly get a chance alone with her to give her his gift. He didn’t want her to open in front of everyone else. It was too personal, and if by chance she didn’t react to it the way he hoped, at least he’d only get his ego bruised a bit and not have to suffer a full embarrassment.
Vickie came up to Ella then, along with another girl who��s name Harry had forgotten. They chatted amongst themselves for a bit before Ella turned to Harry, her hand on his arm. Touch number two, he noted.
“Harry, we’ll be right back, Vickie wants to show me something.”
With a nod, Harry raised his now almost empty cup and drained the rest of his drink. He considered making a second, but reckoned he should pace himself if he didn’t want to hear Ella say ‘I told you so.’
He decided to wander into the living room and watch the others playing the drinking game. Sat on the couch, he laughed when Liam had to take a shot, then Ella’s friend Melissa had to take three in a row. Poor girl, Harry thought until she declared she could hold her own.
After a while, he got bored so he walked down the hall, wondering where Ella had gone. He couldn’t imagine there was anything in the house Vickie had wanted to show her. They’d probably gone outside or to her car. The music drifted down the hall as he made it to his room and sat on the bed. He was definitely not himself tonight. Normally he’d be the first one sat on the floor for a game, or at least by now he’d have a light buzz. He just wanted a clear head, he’d told himself. But it definitely wasn’t clear. All he could think about was her and what he was going to say, if he got the chance to say it.
Running his hands down his face, he took a deep breath and let it out. He stared at the floor for a good while, replaying in his mind the scenario he’d conjured up a couple years ago, edited and tweaked over time.
“Hey, what are you doing in here?”
He jumped when he heard her voice. Lifting his head, he saw her standing in the doorway, her gorgeous eyes wide with wonder.
“Hey,” he muttered softly. “Nothing, I’m just…”
Ella stepped into his room. She’d been in there several times, but this time as she sat on the bed, Harry felt himself tremble.
“Something wrong?” she asked. “Did one of those stupid prats out there give you a hard time? Because you know, that’s my job.”
She nudged Harry’s shoulder with her own, trying to lighten the mood. He laughed lightly under his breath, but said nothing.
“Hey. Harry. I’ve never seen you like this. What gives?”
She turned on the bed to face him, her legs criss crossed. Harry picked at his bottom lip. He wondered if this was it. If this was the moment he was supposed to take action. But how? Was he supposed to give her a long speech about how he’d pined for her for years, or was he supposed to just grab her and kiss her?
“This is probably a shitty thing to say,” Ella continued, “but I’m not sure I like this Harry. Not that you’re only fun when you’re drunk, I don’t mean that. But you’re so serious and quiet. It kinda scares me.”
“Sorry,” he said a little too quickly. “Don’t mean to scare you.”
“Something on your mind?” she tugged at his shirt. “You can tell me, you know. I’m your best friend.”
“I got something for you,” Harry finally said.
“Yeah?” Ella beamed. She bounced on the bed excitedly. “What did ya get me?”
“Um…”
“Ella!” the sound was deafening, coming from the living room. “Hey birthday girl! It’s time for cake and presents!”
“Oh!” she eyed Harry who merely shrugged. “Well, you can give me your present now.”
Harry shook his head. “I’ll wait. Til later. It’s…”
“Oh,” Ella mouthed again, her voice a whisper this time. “Okay.”
Ella rose from the bed, pulling Harry by the arm. They joined the party in the living room, the drinking game seemingly at a pause. The cake sat in the middle of the coffee table, pink roses and candles atop, Ella’s name in the center.
“Thank you so much,” Ella blushed, her hands by her chest. “I’m gonna cry.”
“You say that every year,” Niall quipped.
“Hush, you!” Ella poked at him.
Vickie lit the candles and a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’ began. Though he sang along, Harry was mesmerized by how beautiful Ella looked in the candle light. His stomach was in knots now, and he knew he had to tell her.
Ella opened her gifts next, giving sincere thanks and hugs to each guest. When it was time to cut the cake, however, Melissa made it known that Harry hadn’t given her a gift.
“What’s with that, Harry?” she slurred, obviously drunk from the game. “You’re her best friend, where’s yours?”
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat until Ella spoke up.
“He’s saving it for later,” she winked at him.
Good god, how many times was she going to wink at him tonight? Had she done that before? He didn’t remember.
“Ooh,” voiced Melissa in a sarcastic tone. “Excuse me.”
Noticing Vickie could probably use some help, Harry rose from his chair and joined her in the kitchen where she was dividing slices of cake onto plates.
“Oh, thanks Harry,” she said, handing him two plates that were ready to be served.
“I should be doing this anyway,” he offered. “Seeing as I’m her best friend and all that.”
He hadn’t meant for his comment to sound sarcastic, but he certainly noticed it came out that way. When he turned the corner, however, he heard a snort from Vickie, followed by a “yeah, sure”.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“No, what was that sound for?”
“Go,” Vickie shooed at him. “Serve the cake.”
With a frown, Harry made for the living room where he handed Ella a slice of cake, making sure it had a rose on it, and gave the other to Melissa, despite the scowl on her face.
“What did you mean by ‘yeah, sure’?” Harry hounded Vickie when he returned.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Harry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“You’re lying.”
“God, don’t be so sensitive,” she scoffed. Deciding Harry wasn’t moving fast enough, she brought more cake to the living room herself.
“Please tell me,” he urged when she came back to grab the last pieces. “Do you not think I’m her best friend?”
“Oh, certainly, Harry. You are.” Then she lowered her voice before completing her thought. “But you want to be more.”
Harry glared at her, his eyes wide. “What?”
“Oh c’mon, Harry! Everybody knows it.”
“Everybody?!”
Vickie giggled. “Don’t get so bent out of shape. Maybe I exaggerated. But Niall told me about your present.”
What the...too much was going on now, Harry’s mind was in a whirl.
“How does Niall know? I didn’t show him.”
“He found it in your room. Was looking for some shorts or something.”
“Jesus,” Harry mumbled with a sigh.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell anyone else. I have no idea who Niall told, but I reckon it was just me.”
“What the fuck…” Harry dropped his head. It suddenly felt too heavy for his neck. His entire body felt drained, and he thought he might be sick.
“Hey,” Vickie said low, “if it’s any consolation...Ella’s never confided in me about you or anything...but if you were to make a move, I don’t think she’d reject you.”
Biting his lip, he lifted his head. He was afraid to ask, but at this point he had nothing to lose.
“How do you know?”
“Well, I don’t know. But she literally talks about you all the time. I notice how she looks at you. It’s possible it’s just a friend-like fondness because she really does love and adore you. But I swear they look like heart eyes to me.”
With another sigh, his shoulders dropped. He admitted he felt a little relieved. But he was still extremely nervous.
“Thanks, Vickie,” he said.
“Here,” she grinned, “have some cake.”
“Nah. I think I’ll make another drink.” Harry grabbed a bottle and a new cup, filling it with ice.
“Whatever works for you, darling.”
Vickie joined the group in the living room while Harry nursed his cocktail for a bit. He watched Ella with her other friends, her head falling back as she laughed. Taking her final bite of cake, she looked up and their eyes locked. She tilted her head in question before rising from the couch.
“Here we go again,” she smiled as she leant against the counter. “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong or not?”
“Not,” he managed a grin. “‘Cause nothing’s wrong.”
“Then why are you over here by yourself? Are you secretly getting drunk so I won’t notice?”
“Nope.”
“Hmm. So...how about that present?”
“I told you, I’ll give it to you later.” he replied, hoping his tone was light and playful.
“You’re being mean,” she pouted, resting her chin in her hand.
Harry chuckled. “No, ‘m not!”
“Well, you’re being weird then.”
“Sorry,” he muttered before taking a drink. “I just...wanna give it to you with no one else around.”
“Ooh. I’m intrigued.”
Harry noticed how her bum stuck out and she wiggled it just slightly. It almost seemed like she was keeping time with the music playing, but he wasn’t sure. Whatever the reason, he felt his blood rush to his crotch and he had to take another gulp from his cup.
“Make me one of those?” she asked, her eyelashes fluttering.
Harry obliged, pouring the liquor over ice and adding soda. When he handed it to her and she took a sip, her eyes widened.
“Is this what you’re drinking?”
“Yeah,” Harry laughed.
“This is way stronger than the first one you made me,” Ella claimed.
“Well, you gotta start off slow.” This time it was his turn to wink.
“Bloody hell, Styles, maybe I am getting drunk tonight.”
Ella rarely called him by his last name unless she was scolding him. With her hand on his arm as she took another drink, he suddenly decided he liked it.
The moment was short-lived, however, when his reverie was interrupted by the noise of half the party joining them in the kitchen. Apparently it was refill time, and they all began to freshen their cups or grab beers. They all chatted for a bit, and before long the whole gang was singing a chorus of “Smells Like Teen Spirit”. Harry realized he was enjoying himself, and was remembering it was a party and started to loosen up.
“Feeling better?” Ella asked, her doe eyes smiling up at him as she placed another hand on his arm. How many times was that now? He’d lost count.
He grinned, looking down at his now empty cup.
“Sorry I’ve been…” he didn’t know how to complete the sentence.
“No worries, darling,” sang Ella. “I just like it best when you’re like this. Happy and smiling. You have a dynamite smile.”
Before Harry could respond, her hand dropped from his arm and he suddenly felt a chill.
“Going to the loo,” she whispered in his ear. “Make me another?”
Harry watched her walk away before he refilled both of their cups with ice and made the same drink as last time.
“So did you tell her yet?”
Harry lifted his gaze to see Melissa standing across from him, a cheeky grin spread across her face.
“Tell who what?” he asked.
“Ella,” she rolled her eyes. “That you’re in love with her.”
Harry’s jaw dropped just as Liam and his footie pal Derek gasped.
“Wait...whoa...what?”
Harry searched the faces in the kitchen before landing on Vickie’s who simply shrugged. Then he glared at Niall.
“Don’t look at me, mate,” he held up his hands.
“It’s my fault,” Melissa admitted. “I saw the letter you typed on your laptop.”
“Letter?” Harry asked incredulously.
“Oh my God, there’s a letter?” Niall brought his fist to his mouth.
Harry thought he might be sick right there on the kitchen tile. Rounding the island, Melissa looked at him.
“Honestly Harry, I thought everyone knew. It’s rather obvious, don’t you think?”
“I didn’t think,” conveyed Liam.
“I might’ve suspected,” said Derek.
“I didn’t really know,” added Niall with a shrug. “Until I saw the box in your wardrobe.”
“What box?” piped Liam.
“I only told Vickie about it, I swear,” Niall continued. “I was wondering if maybe there was already something going on and no one told me.”
“You didn’t think to just ask me?” Harry scoffed, his jaw set. “And what were you doing in my room anyway?”
“Bloody hell, Harry!” exclaimed Melissa when he stepped closer to Niall like he was going to clock him. “What’s the big deal? It’s not like she hasn’t been in love with you for years anyway!”
“What?”
All was silent then, except for Ariana Grande who sang from the speakers in the living room as everyone turned to see Ella stood by the kitchen, her face full of shock, bewilderment and disbelief.
“Ohh shit,” someone muttered low.
“What’s going on?” Ella asked, her eyes wide and her fists at her sides. She appeared to be breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly. It was Harry’s instinct to pull her away from the crowd and hold her forever, but his feet seemed to be nailed to the ground.
The others in the kitchen quickly busied themselves, the beer and disgustingly sweet punch somehow suddenly the topic of conversation.
“Ella, the birthday girl!” cheered Liam. “What can I get you to drink, love?”
“Melissa?” Ella called, ignoring Liam’s attempt at distraction. “What did you just say?”
“Um...nothing um...important,” her friend stumbled. “I was just reminding Harry here what great friends you are and how it’s a wonder you’ve...never...become...more.”
Blinking, Ella looked from Melissa to Harry. He seemed to be in the same state of shock she was in, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down each time he swallowed.
“Ella…” he breathed, unable to spit out any other word.
“Um...guys…” offered Vickie, coming around the counter with her arms open. “Now might be a good time to open that present.”
She eyed Harry strongly, giving a slow nod of her head. Her hands on each of their backs, she ushered them towards the hallway and into Harry’s room. Without a word, she closed the door behind her, leaving Ella and Harry alone.
They stood in the center of the bedroom, staring at each other and waiting for the other to speak until Harry finally broke the silence.
“Is it true?”
A blush rose in Ella’s already pink cheeks as she bit her bottom lip and nodded. Harry wasted no time erasing the space between them, taking her face in his hands and planting a soft kiss on her mouth.
Startled at first, Ella froze, her hands in the air. Then she soon relaxed, letting her hands fall on Harry’s arms as she kissed him back.
“Ella…” he breathed again when he broke the kiss, his lips nearly still attached to hers. “I’ve...I’ve been in love with you for years too.”
“Since when?” Ella looked up at him with her big beautiful eyes.
“Since...I met you?”
“Liar,” she quipped, stepping back as she tugged on the hem of his shirt.
“Well…” Harry chuckled nervously. “Soon after...I reckon it was that day after the footie game when we were walking back and you asked if I was enjoying school so far.”
Ella glared at Harry, her brows raised. “First year? I don’t think I even remember that.”
“I do,” said Harry. “Very well. You had your hair back in a plait, but the sides were falling down. The sun was starting to set, and I just thought you were the sweetest thing I’d ever seen. I wanted to kiss you so bad.”
Ella hummed softly as she ran her hands up his chest.
“Kiss me again,” she pleaded. “Just like you wanted to then.”
Cupping her face again, Harry tilted his head and brought his mouth to hers. Ella felt the tingles right to her toes, a tiny squeak of a moan escaping her throat. That was music to Harry’s ears, and he eagerly slipped his tongue between her lips, meeting hers with a jolt of electricity. They kissed each other like they meant it, like it was everything they’d ever wanted. When Ella repeated her sound of pleasure, Harry lifted her by her bum and carried her to the bed.
“Your lips are so soft,” he declared, his body pressed against hers.
“Yours too.”
His hand on Ella’s waist, he lifted her shirt slightly until he touched skin. The connection was like fire, an explosion of all the senses. He began to kiss her neck then, feeling her pant beneath his lips, sending his blood rushing throughout his entire body.
“Oh my God, Harry,” Ella moaned. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
“Yeah?” Harry asked with a smirk. “Me too.”
“Really?
“Fuck yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because…” Ella hesitated. “I didn’t wanna ruin the friendship.”
“Me neither,” said Harry.
“So what do we do now?” Ella looked at him with equal parts desire and apprehension.
“Ruin the friendship.”
Ella giggled, causing Harry’s chest to tickle and his smile to widen.
“I guess...if both of us feel the same,” she remarked, “it’s not really ruining it, is it?”
“I suspect not.”
After a few more kisses, Harry rested his forehead against hers as he listened to both of their breathing.
“I should stop,” he groaned.
“No. Why?”
Lifting his head, Harry looked Ella in the eye. She was so beautiful, her pouty lips already swollen from his kisses, her gaze questioning. There were so many things he wanted to do to her, with her. But they’d only just confessed how they felt. Actually, they hadn’t really fully done that. Someone else had let the cat out of the bag.
“Um...let me...give you your present,” he said, sliding off the bed.
“Okay.”
Ella sat up, pushing her hair from her face as Harry rummaged through his wardrobe and pulled out a small box. Setting it on the bed, he cleared his throat.
“So um...there’s a letter that’s supposed to go with it. I was going to read it while you open the gift. It kind of explains it all. But...since you already know, I reckon it’s pointless.”
“No, I’d like to hear the letter,” Ella smiled sweetly.
“Right then,” Harry chuckled nervously while he pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket. Clearing his throat again, he began to read…
Dear Ella,
Four years ago, we met in Lit class. While I didn’t make the best marks, I felt as though I aced it because you were sat next to me. Your love for literature was infectious, and I always left class with a smile on my face. I also began to enjoy your company at football games. It was obvious to me that despite the fact that you weren’t a massive fan of the sport, you came along to cheer on your friends, and I thought that was just a kind thing to do. You’ve always had a compassionate heart and a kind soul, and I reckon that’s why I began to have deeper feelings for you.
As the years have gone by, I’ve tried my best to convince myself that we’re just meant to be friends. I consider you my best friend, and I cherish our friendship more than anything. Many times I’ve wanted to tell you how I really felt, but the timing was just off, or I was chicken shit. I worried that you didn’t think of me in any other way, and being just your friend was better than nothing at all.
I still feel that way, but tonight, on your birthday, I’m putting myself out there and taking that risk. You have my heart, Ella. I want you to be mine, both my friend and my lover. I want to kiss you better than you’ve ever been kissed. I want to hold you in my arms and tell you every day how in love with you I am. You deserve the moon and the stars, the heavens and the entire universe...and I want to be the one to give it all to you.
I pray that you’ll have me as more than a friend, and accept my heart as I hand it over to you.
Yours eternally,
Harry
Dropping the paper, Harry noticed Ella was in tears, her cheeks wet as she tried desperately to wipe them.
“That was the most beautiful letter,” she whispered.
Laying the letter on the bed, Harry sat down next to it and handed Ella the box.
“I hope you like it,” he said.
It was a simple white box, unwrapped but a pink bow adorned the top. When Ella lifted the lid, she gasped. Inside sat a silver charm bracelet containing six delicate charms. She fingered each one before looking up at Harry, waiting for his explanation.
“Here, may I?” he asked, lifting the bracelet from the box.
Ella nodded and Harry unlatched the clasp and wrapped it around her delicate wrist. Ella watched his mouth as he began to describe each charm.
“A book,” he said, touching the first one. “For your love of literature. A football, for all the games you went to.”
Ella smiled, recalling all the great memories she had of watching Harry and his team.
“Two hearts…” he added. “One for your big, kind heart. And one for mine which you now own.”
Without hesitation, Ella lifted her other hand to Harry’s cheek. He smiled back at her.
“And...the moon and the stars…” he finished. “Because you deserve them.”
“Harry…” Ella murmured softly, more tears threatening to fall from her eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”
Dropping his hands to her waist, Harry pulled her closer.
“Say you feel the same, Ella,” he whispered. “Say you love me too.”
“I do,” she declared. “I so very much do.”
Hope you enjoyed!
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#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fan fic#harry styles fic#harry styles one shot#harry styles blurb#harry styles imagine#harry styles au#harry styles x oc#harry styles fluff#harry fanfiction#harry fan fiction#harry fanfic#harry fan fic#harry fic#harry one shot#harry blurb#harry imagine#harry au#harry x oc#harry fluff#uni!harry#fratboy harry#friends to lovers#best friends trope
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Feral 2
Minors Do Not Interact!!!
Warnings: brief mentions of arranged marriage, threats of harming an animal (it's a joke but the reader takes it seriously), and several references to slavery
The silly little cat fic is getting a sequel because someone commented that Feyd not liking Friz would make him Friz's favorite person.
"Get him." Feyd said firmly.
Y/N snorted out a laugh. Ever since the wedding she had gotten very comfortable around him. He liked that. He wasn't a fan of a certain flea bag getting that comfortable though.
Friz had a new habit. A habit that annoyed Feyd to no end. Anytime Feyd sat down somewhere, Friz would climb up on the back of the couch or chair, and rub against the back of Feyd's head. Normal he would just ignore the beast until the creature got bored, but with Friz's newfound affections came a fun new fact. Something about the combination of Friz's fur and Feyd's skin created a bit of static. Every damned hair the cat shed stuck to his head like it was glued. Only showering or a lint roller would get it all off. Every damned time he left his rooms he had to triple check himself to make sure he wasn't walking around with cat fur on his head. Y/N was admittedly helpful about the situation, often going over him with a lint roller before he left.
Friz seemed to have an endless supply of fur that fell off of him at the slightest touch. The beast didn't seem to have much fur when you looked at him, but it was a cowardly deception. Y/N had taken an undercoat brush to Friz while Feyd watched, horrified at the amount of fur that kept getting brushed off of him. It was never ending. And after Y/N was done, a giant clump of furballs next to her to prove she'd done it, Friz looked no different. And still she'd on the couch that evening during his nap time.
"The maids scramble about to keep this place as fur free as possible." Y/N explained to him, throwing the fur into the incinerator. "I've no idea how they do it, I think they use some sort of hand rake that works kind of like the undercoat brush."
"Remind me to increase their rations." Feyd grumbled.
Which brought Feyd back to his current predicament. Friz was standing in the back of the couch, rubbing against his head like he owned it. Y/N held out her hand, offering pets to Friz.
The tomcat promptly gave her a warning hiss.
"It's out of my control." Y/N said.
"And you're sure we can't shave him?" Feyd pressed.
"He'll get sick. Giedi Prime is already so cold, I can't let him freeze without his coat." Y/N explained.
Feyd opened his mouth to say that wasn't the worst outcome he'd ever heard, but went silent when he felt it. On the back of his head. Something warm, wet, and scratchy. It touched him briefly, then disappeared for a split second before touching him again, and again, and again.
Y/N grinned from ear to ear. "Aw, he's grooming you!"
Feyd growled, crossing his arms in what definitely was not a pout. "I am cleaner than he has ever been."
"You know, cats only groom things they consider to be family. And since you're new to him, and have no hair, he might think you're a kitten!" Y/N giggled. "A poor, cold little kitten with no hair."
A little meow from behind him assured the both of them that not only could Friz understand them somehow, but he was committed to this entire bit.
"I'll toss you to the slave pits." Feyd threatened the cat. "They're usually half starved. They'll tear you to-"
"Feyd." Y/N snapped. "If you speak to him like that again, you'll need to go to your own room tonight."
Feyd took a deep breath, gently reminding himself that his wife wasn't from Giedi Prime, that she was softer than him, that she wasn't going to take kindly to even joking threats. "My apologies. Is there some solution to his shedding I have overlooked?"
"Well, regular baths would help." Y/N said. "Right now I can only manage about one every two weeks, but if I could give him longer bathes where I really get in there and scrub him, it'll knock a lot of fur off."
Feyd narrowed his gaze at Friz as the cat jumped into his lap. "Consider it done."
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new update - 'Thank You for the Venom', chapter 10 🎸 🗡️
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten Summary
Adam loses his patience with Lute when she won't let him take care of her without a fight.
Who is here for some close proximityyyyyyy?! 🙋🏼♀️
All I'm going to say is that the next few chapters are going to be fun. SO much fun. Buckle up, buttercups!
Thanks @branded-rose for beta-ing as always, you wonderful human <3
Neither Adam or Lute said anything on the way to his apartment.
Lute had decided, for fucking once, that she didn’t feel up to talking or backchatting him and instead spent the trek back sulking in his arms, refusing to look at him.
If he was being honest, the silence was more than welcomed. It gave Adam time to think, to form a game plan for the week ahead. His objective? To not fuck his lieutenant while she recovered from her injury. As tempting as it was, he couldn’t risk her reinjuring herself and taking more time off training.
Considering he had a meeting with Sera coming up, he needed Lute to heal up fast, lest he be subjected to a lecture on how he wasn’t taking this seriously enough, why was his lieutenant always getting injured under his watch, blah, blah-fucking-blah.
Though, now that he came to think of it, he was the guy who literally invented sex. Surely he could come up with some creative positions so as to not do further damage to her ankle.
He found himself lost in his thoughts as they approached his front door, trying to think of the most stationary way to bury himself inside her when a familiar, irritating voice quickly brought him back to reality.
“Sir? Sir. Are you even listening to me?”
Adam glanced down at Lute, who was waving a hand in front of his face, looking wildly unimpressed.
“Course I was,” he said defensively, lying through his teeth. He had absolutely no idea what she’d said - and frankly, couldn’t care, considering he’d been thoroughly enjoying the visuals that accompanied his dirty thoughts.
“Then what was I talking about?” She narrowed her eyes at him, and he resisted the urge to roll his own in response.
“Uhh… you were complaining about something or other? Hold up - could you reach into my pocket and grab my key for me?”
What a save.
Lute scowled at him, unimpressed. “A ‘please’ wouldn’t hurt, you know.”
Adam resisted the urge to drop her on the floor for being a colossal pain in his ass. Injury be damned, she was already getting on his nerves and they hadn’t even walked through the front door yet.
It was going to be a long ass week together, and he wasn’t sure which one of them would kill the other first.
“Fucking hell - fine. Grab the key from my pocket and unlock the front door, so we can hurry the fuck up and get inside, please?”
Smiling smugly, she reached her hand into his pocket, digging around for his key, her fingers roughly hitting the front of his hip and thigh through the fabric of his robe. “Was that so hard, sir?”
“If you keep digging around like that babe, you’ll find something else in there that’s hard.”
“Ugh. You disgust me.” She threw him the flattest look, producing the key from his pocket and unceremoniously shoving it into the keyhole.
When they stepped through the front door, Adam felt the slightest pang of shame at not cleaning up after himself from the night before. Empty wine bottles and takeout containers littered his counter, while there was no way Lute’s keen eye would miss the hot pink bra draped lazily over the back of his armchair.
Layla had forgotten to pick up after herself again.
“Really?” she asked dryly, raising a brow at him as he carried her over to his couch. “I’m surprised you don’t have a lost and found box permanently stationed outside your front door.”
“You know Lute, that’s the most intelligent thing that I think has ever come out of your mouth,” he mused, setting her down carefully so as not to bump her injured leg. “I’ll be right back.”
He grabbed the bra off the back of his chair and wandered into his bedroom, quickly grabbing his phone to text Layla.
Adam: You forgot your bra. Again.
As expected, considering Layla never got off her phone, it vibrated in his hand almost instantly.
Layla: Did your pretty little patient notice?
Adam: Yes.
Layla: She’d look good in it, too. Don’t you think?
Adam: Not helping.
Layla: I know. Good luck.
Snorting, he pocketed his phone again. Layla had picked up on the tension between him and Lute at the bar a couple of months go, before he’d followed her outside. She’d nagged him about it for fucking weeks, until a moment where she quite literally had him by the balls and he relented, admitting that there had been something between them, but nothing more had happened.
He didn’t need the truth spreading around the barracks like wildfire, considering how fucking chatty the girls were. Still, he was thankful that Layla seemed to have kept her mouth shut, even though she nagged him almost daily about Lute.
As he reminded himself to change his sheets later, he drew on the uncomfortable conversation he’d had with Layla the night before in his bed.
~
“Why do you even fucking care?” Adam asked, rolling over to look at her. “I wouldn’t have picked you to be the jealous type.”
“That’s because I’m not,” Layla said simply as she sat up, letting the duvet fall, exposing her ample chest as she inspected a strand of her hair. “Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy our hookups because they scratch an itch, so to speak, but emotionally you’re kind of a giant walking red flag.”
“Gee, thanks,” he said bitterly. “Way to make a guy feel good about himself.”
“Oh, please, Adam,” she snorted. “That’s not what I’m here for. You want someone to stroke your ego? Get a girlfriend. Or, man up and do something about your little crush on Lute.”
“I’ll give you something you can stroke,” he said in a low voice, reaching over to cup one of her breasts, massaging it softly, choosing to ignore her dig at him as he kneaded it softly.
She glanced at his hand, her expression bored, then shook her head. “Nah. I’m good.” Stretching, she slid out of his bed and began getting dressed.
“Where are you going?”
“Home. I told you - I had an itch, you scratched it. Now I’m done.”She leaned both arms on the bed, staring Adam down with her large golden eyes, her expression unusually firm.
“Stop being such a pussy Adam, and just shoot your shot,” she said sternly. “I have a feeling that you’ll be a happier man for it.”
“I have no fucking idea what you’re on about.”
“That’s your problem then, not mine.”
With that, she sashayed out of his room, flicking her hair over her shoulder.
~
Shoving the memory to the back of his mind, not wanting to think about it any further, Adam threw the bra into his closet before grabbing two pillows off his bed and trudging back out into his living room.
Lute’s thumbs were moving swiftly across her phone screen as she typed furiously, her eyes unmoving. If she noticed Adam come back into the room, she didn’t acknowledge him.
“Who are you texting?”
She startled slightly, glaring at him as he took a seat next to her on the couch. “Vaggie. I’m telling her what I’ll need for the next week.”
“Anything special I should know about?”
Her cheeks flushed and she narrowed her eyes further at him. “No.”
“That’s a lie if I ever fucking heard one. Here - hold this,” he shoved a pillow at her, knocking her phone out of her hands, causing it to bounce away from her and land close to her feet. Grabbing it to pass back to her, he snuck a quick look at her screen.
Vaggie: You sure you’re okay? You could have stayed with me.
Lute: You’d get sick of me.
Vaggie: That’s a lie.
Lute: Plus, he had a point. His place is bigger than our apartments.
Vaggie: I guess. If you need to tap out at any time though, call me. What do you need?
Lute: I’ll be alright. Just the usual stuff. Clothes and toiletries. Also my protein powder and shaker. And a book or two. Third drawer in the kitchen. You know the type.
Vaggie: Unusual hiding spot for a book, but okay.
“Why do you keep your books in the kitchen drawer?” Adam asked, extending his arm so Lute could take her phone. “That’s a fucking weird spot. Most normal people keep theirs on a bookshelf.”
“None of your fucking business,” she snapped, snatching her phone back and locking it. “Next time, don’t read my messages, creep.”
“Oh, calm your tits, it wasn’t like you had anything interesting to say,” he huffed, laying the remaining pillow across the top of his thighs. “Alright, I’m about to take a look at your leg and see how bad the damage is. I’d suggest biting into that pillow while I do it.”
“Why on earth would I need to bite into a pillow?”
Adam sighed and scratched behind his neck, not caring for her attitude. “Because, and I hate to break this to you, babe, but it’s not going to tickle when I take your shoe off. In fact, it’s going to hurt like hell. So, instead of you yelling at the top of your lungs and my neighbours get pissed off that they can hear someone screaming in here again, just bite into the fucking pillow, would you?”
“Do you make screaming loud enough to piss your neighbours off a regular habit?” she asked, cocking a brow at him. He snorted and gently lifted her legs, scooting closer to her so that he could place them on top of the pillow on his lap.
“It’s not me they’re complaining about, babe.”
She shot him a withering look and he snickered, shaking his head. “You are so easy to rile up, Dangertits.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Not gonna happen. Anyway, get ready because I’m about to take your shoe off and it’s gonna hurt.” He started undoing the laces on her trainer, taking care not to knock her foot.
“Somehow, I think I’ll manage,” she muttered, “I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal about this. It’s a fucking ankle sprain, but you’re making out like I’ve lost a goddamn limb or something”
He closed his eyes, trying to find the inner strength to deal with her shitty attitude. He wasn’t the most patient man at the best of times, but she was really testing him now.
“Lute,” he ground out through gritted teeth, “shut the fuck up and stop being such a brat.”
She puffed her cheeks and crossed her arms looking away from him. “I am not being a brat.”
“You fucking are. You’re pouting at me again.”
“I am not,” she argued, aiming a swift kick at him with her good leg. He caught it mid-air before it connected with his shoulder, glowering at her.
“If you don’t shut your mouth,” he growled, “I’m going to shut it for you.”
“Oooh, I’m so scared,” she said sardonically, her face twisting into a mock fearful expression. “What are you going to do to me?”
“Don’t push your fucking luck with me.” He leaned over, their chests just touching as he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him, her blazing golden eyes meeting the yellow of his mask. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to help you here, not make things worse. Stop running your fucking mouth and start listening to me. That’s an order. Do you fucking understand me, Lieutenant?”
Her lip curled into a snarl. “I didn’t ask you to take care of me, sir.”
“I couldn’t really give a shit what you asked for,” he said coolly, letting go of her face roughly and resuming his original position on the couch. “Shoe’s coming off now, by the way. Get ready - or not, I’m not bothered either way.”
He gripped the heel of her trainer and tugged downwars, trying not to move her actual foot as much as possible. Lute hissed, then let out a cry of pain as he gently wiggled the shoe in order to ease it off her swollen foot.
“That hurts!” she yelled, throwing her head back against the armrest of the couch.
“Bite the goddamn pillow, Lute, or my neighbours will think I’m murdering someone.”
“It’s Heaven, nobody gets murdered here,” she growled.
“Well, it’s either that or they’ll think you’re an animal and into some kinky shit, so if you want them to keep thinking that, go ahead and be my guest. I don’t care.”
He was relieved to see her finally press the pillow into her face, her scream muffled as he finally managed to get her shoe and sock off.
Adam had seen his fair share of soft tissue injuries during his time as Commander of the Exorcist army - severe bruising, strains and sprains were commonplace, especially during training sessions. In fact, they probably made up at least half of the incident reports he had to fill out. But, in classic Lute fashion, she had managed to spectacularly outdo everybody else, sporting the most brilliant ankle sprain he had ever seen.
Her skin was no longer pale, instead now heavily bruised with patches of vibrant oranges and yellows that spread from the tips of her toes right up to past the hem of her leggings, concentrated mostly around her ankle - which had turned a particularly nasty shade of vermillion. The afflicted area had also swelled to twice its normal size, looking unnatural next to her muscular right leg.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered, gently running his fingers over her swollen skin. “Not sure if I should congratulate you on doing such a great job, or be pissed that you’re going to be out of action for a while.”
When she didn’t respond, he glanced up at her and was surprised to find that tears had formed in the corners of her eyes.
“It’s not that bad,” he backtracked, feeling uncomfortable at her sudden shift in demeanour. Shit, he was hopeless when it came to women crying in front of him, he never had any idea what to do, and no matter what he said, he tended to just make it worse. “A week off work, at the most.”
She looked away, and he pretended not to notice as she quickly wiped her eyes. Not that she deserved it for being such a pain in the ass earlier. Still, he couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit sorry for her. Her misery almost made her seem normal.
“I don’t want to take a week off work,” she said thickly. “We’ve got too much to do. And - and you have a meeting with Sera and -”
Adam cut her off, waving his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about my meeting with Sare-bear, she doesn’t have to know everything that goes on at training. But, Lute, just listen,” he let one of his hands come to rest on her knee in a comforting gesture.
“You need to swallow your fucking pride and do as I say, alright? I swear I’m not trying to be a dick, I’m trying to help you get back to normal as soon as possible. Believe it or not, you’re not invincible, but if you just rest, you’ll heal quicker. Okay? So, just…fucking chill.”
He gave her knee a reassuring pat, and as she looked up at him through her damp lashes, he felt oddly compelled to comfort her further. He wasn’t entirely sure where the feeling came from, or what it meant exactly, but all he knew was that he needed to show her that he cared. So he lifted the hand that was resting on her leg and grabbed one of her hands, squeezing it gently, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles.
He found himself studying how small her hands were, how if he held their hands up together, the tips of her fingers would barely reach past his palms. How could such tiny hands be responsible for spilling so much Sinner blood, year after year?
Lute cast her eyes downwards into her lap and nodded, resigned. “Okay,” she said quietly, her voice barely audible.
Adam breathed a sigh of relief and let his head fall backwards. “Finally, she listens to me,” he muttered to his ceiling. “It’s only taken God knows how fucking long.”
He managed to catch the pillow just before it hit him in the face.
***
Lute was on the verge of falling asleep when Vaggie turned up at Adam’s apartment, a large duffel bag slung over her shoulder and a scowl plastered on her face as he greeted her with an obnoxiously loud, “‘Sup, Vagasaurous!”
She couldn’t hear most of their conversation from her position on the couch due to the fact that they were speaking in hushed voices, but she was positive she heard Vaggie stage-whisper, “What do you mean she hasn’t had any fucking painkillers?” at one point.
If they spoke much after that, she had no recollection of it as she let her eyes rest, drifting off to sleep.
When she woke, she was surprised to feel something soft covering her bare shoulders. Opening her eyes, she found a blanket over her, considerately tucked neatly under her body. Vaggie must have come in and made sure she was warm, knowing Adam wouldn’t have the care factor to do so.
Sitting up, Lute hissed, grimacing as pain seared through her ankle, which was resting gently atop one of the pillows Adam had brought out from his bedroom. Another considerate gesture from Vaggie.
She really was such a good friend.
“Bout time you woke up.”
Her eyes darted around, finding Adam sitting at his counter flicking through something on his phone.
“How long was I asleep for?” she asked, drawing the blanket up under her chin. She didn’t love the idea of him being around her, awake, while she slept. What if she did something embarrassing, like snored, or drooled… or worse, talked in her sleep?
Given some of the… intense dreams she’d had over the past few months that may or may not have involved her boss, she reall, really hoped she didn’t sleeptalk.
Adam looked up from his phone as he set it on his counter, which was now rid of the rubbish that had been strewn across it when they first arrived at the apartment. At least he’d taken the liberty of cleaning up while she slept. “A couple hours? You were pretty out of it.”
“Really?”
“Oh, fuck yeah. Also, you have the funniest little snore. It’d almost be cute if it wasn’t coming from you.”
“I do not snore!” Lute cried indignantly, pulling the blanket tighter around herself.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Babe. You snored. Besides, how would you know if you do or don’t? Anybody ever told you that you have?”
“No,” she admitted, deliberately choosing not to elaborate further - he didn’t need to know it was because she’d never slept next to anybody before. She’d never hear the end of it and besides, it was absolutely none of his business.
“Well, either this was something special you saved just for me, or all the men you’ve ever shared a bed with sleep like the dead.”
“Again, sir, it’s Heaven. Most people here sleep like the dead because they are dead.”
“Fuck, it was nice and peaceful while you were comatose,” Adam muttered under his breath, sliding off his stool, “even if you were snoring.”
Lute watched with mild interest as he opened kitchen cupboards, continuing to mutter to himself. It was odd seeing him in such a domesticated environment - given his status in Heaven as the First Man and how obnoxious he was, she’d expected him to live in a more luxurious, gaudy home. In reality, apart from an overly-large TV, and the fact that the footprint of his apartment was slightly larger than hers, his home wasn’t very impressive at all.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he made his way over to her and sat on the coffee table in front of her, holding a glass of water.
“Your little scissor-sister bestie chewed me out for not giving you these sooner, so hurry up and take them before she turns up at my door again.” He extended his hand, uncurling his fist to reveal two small blue pills. “They should stop the pain while you’re sitting still.”
“I’m not in pain,” Lute said quickly, eyeing the pills, “I’m fine.” She didn’t want him thinking she was weak enough to need medication. That would just be pathetic, especially for something as minor as a sprained ankle.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, did we or did we not just have a conversation about this?” Adam snapped, “take the fucking pills Lute, before I force them down your throat.”
Glaring at him, she snatched the pills from his outstretched hand, but before she could pull away his hand closed tightly over hers. He moved off the coffee table, kneeling in front of her, once again closing space between their bodies.
She glanced down at their hands, and noticed that he must have taken his gloves off while she was asleep, because they were bare. She’d seen him without them before, but he was close enough now that she couldn’t help but notice the sprinkling of fine ash-brown hair that crept up the back of his hand.
It was also warm, and strong. If it were anybody else holding her hand, she’d admit to liking how that felt. She kept that thought to herself.
“You,” he started, his voice now low and dangerous, “are really pissing me off now. Cut the bullshit, stop being a stubborn little bitch and let me take fucking care of you, alright?”
“I’m not weak,” she hissed, “I’m not some helpless little girl who needs saving.”
“Nobody said you were. Shut up and take the painkillers, Lute.” He let go of her hand and shook his head in frustration.
Scowling, she shoved the pills in her mouth and swallowed, grimacing at the taste as she struggled to get them down her throat. She held out her hand for the glass of water and Adam handed it to her unceremoniously.
Once she’d managed to chase the pills with the water, she thrust the glass back in his direction.
“Was that so hard?”
She sighed. “Yes actually, it was.”
“It would have been a fuckton easier if you’d just listened to me.”
“Where did you even get painkillers, anyway? It’s not like anybody here needs them.”
He snorted. “You think I’m going to smuggle hard liquor from Hell every year for our post-Extermination Day rager, and not be smart enough to also steal something to help with the hangover the next day?”
“Oh, I feel so honoured you gave me your special hangover pills.”
“So you fucking should be, I only get a few a year.”
She turned her head to gaze at him, still seated on the floor in front of her. He looked as tired as she felt. “Why are you so hellbent on doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“This. Making sure I’m alright. You don’t care about me.”
“Bullshit. I care about all my girls, Lute, and that includes you.” He scooted closer, so his side leaned against the couch, his body facing hers. “You just make my job more difficult because you’ve got more of a tendency to bite back than the others.”
Lute didn’t say anything, instead choosing to adjust the waistband of her leggings, which were starting to dig into her and get uncomfortable. She desperately needed a shower.
“You know what’s going to be difficult?” she groaned, realising another roadblock they’d have to tackle.
“What?”
She grimaced, not wanting to admit it out loud - but what choice did she have?
“Showering.”
Adam blinked at her, confused. “Oh, yeah we can do that. No biggie, I’ll just carry you in, you can do your thing and when you’re ready just call me and I’ll come get you. Easy as fuck.”
“Sir. That’s not going to work. How am I even supposed to stand in the shower, or get in and out?
He scratched the back of his neck, frowning. “Shit, I didn’t think of that. Unless…”
“I’m not showering with you,” Lute said quickly.
Adam snorted. “Babe, that is not where my mind was going, but now that you mention it, if you can put your big girl panties on and be an adult about this, it would be the easiest solution.”
She glared at him. “No, sir. What was your other plan?”
“I have a bath. It’s probably easier to get you in there.”
She swallowed, unconvinced. “I haven’t had a bath since -”
Adam held a hand up, silencing her. “Since I busted into your apartment. Yeah, yeah, I know, spare me the lecture. As far as I see this playing out Dangertits, you’ve got three options. One, take a bath. I help you in, get you settled, then come and get you when the time’s up. Easy. Two, we shower together. Not gonna lie, the thought of it excites me, but you’d have to keep your eyes closed the whole time, because this,” he tugged at the bottom of his hood, “would be coming off.”
“I can keep my eyes closed, I’ve done it before,” she retorted, the words escaping her lips before she had the chance to hold them in. Her eyes widened and she clapped a hand to her mouth, utterly mortified at her inadvertent admission of wanting to shower with him. Her stomach twisted into a thousand knots as she frantically wondered how the fuck she was going to talk her way out of this.
She wanted to die.
He cocked an eyebrow at her, grinning. “Believe me, I know you can. Let’s just say the last time I asked you to, I was very impressed with how well you can follow instructions when you don’t fucking backchat me.”
Lute sank lower into the couch, pulling the blanket over her head so Adam wouldn’t see how her face and chest were basically glowing fluorescent. So she didn’t have to look at his stupid smug fake face as it smirked at her.
“What’s my third option?” she muttered, her voice strained.
“You don’t bathe at all for the next week. Which is fucking gross.”
She felt him rip the blanket away from her, and she yelped at the sensation of the cool air on her bare skin, goosebumps creeping up her arms. She glared up at Adam, who was now standing over her, blanket tossed to the side.
“Was that necessary?” she asked, folding her arms over her stomach.
He shrugged. “Not really, no, but I need an answer, and I didn’t feel like you were going to give me one, so I had to do something.. What’s it gonna be, babe?”
“I don’t have a choice, do I?” she groaned, “I’ll take a bath.”
“Slightly disappointed you didn’t suggest the shower, to be honest.” He bent down and slid one arm under her knees, and the other around her waist, lifting her up off the couch effortlessly. “Come on. Let’s get you clean. Want me to give you a sponge bath while we’re at it?”
Lute turned her head and let it rest against Adam’s chest as he carried her to his bathroom, taking in his scent - woody, aromatic. Slightly peppery, even. Masculine.
Intoxicating.
For all the times he’d been in her personal space, she’d never really paid attention to how he smelt. She was usually too busy being annoyed by his presence.
Or, he had her preoccupied in other ways.
As for his comment about the sponge bath?
Lute felt that sometimes, some questions were best left unanswered.
#guardrock#guitarspear#hazbin hotel#adam x lute#hazbin hotel lute#guitarspear fic#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin adam#hazbin hotel fanfic#hazbin lute
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trying to get the rhaenyra theon feelings sorted out in text:
for one, it's the "smiling always smiling" while emotionally guarded vibes. there's a scene in E1 for instance where alicent tries to get rhaenyra to talk about her vulnerabilities and rhaenyra just… blocks. there's several moments where it's like child you are NOT smiling right now but you are! <3 (like during the violence at the tourney). and this air of not taking things seriously enough but actually whenever she reveals her thoughts you notice that she's been paying close attention, that she's bright and focused and that all this is a way to guard her heart. i think you could relate this to them both growing up in somewhat unsafe environments, obviously being winterfell's hostage and growing up in a cut-throat court environment ripe with manipulation and machinations is not quite the same, but in both case you gain a child that does Not Trust (and for good reason!)
the way in which they both need to move around and physically exert themselves to calm down when stressed.
then of course you have the entire, it is my birthright but someone else is considered more suitable/you are not suitable (any more) because you're a hostage/a girl. and some of the unfairness they decry at this is, from a modern pov a bit: well but it is not Good to want that, right? theon: i should get to be an ironborn reaver who commands women and smallfolk. rhaenyra: i should get to be a male heir who may crawl brothels and father countless bastards in inpunity. and it is, sure, aegon and daemon (and robert, and….) all do precisely just that, so i get you, but what they want is also full access to a privilege that is violent in the first place.
related to the theme: is ambition evil? is this type of ambition evil? both don't want to be Bad lords they want to be Good lords but maybe they are driven more closely by emotions. maybe they end up doing things on their road to fight for their ambitions that are violent. tyrannical maybe even. murderous. they have been failed and cheated from what they were indeed entitled to but so should they have just let it go? and both with real emotional familial ties also driving their ambitions - their fathers and their father's wishes, rhaenyra's children.
detail: rash, bold, ambitious, actually pretty clever, and disobedient moves to "prove her worth" that yet earns her no credit and no safety
also the "spoiled brat" "he/she should be more grateful" etc type angle. like yes: clearly they both are noble characters growing up cush at the top of the feudal hierarchies in castles with tutors nice clothing and so on and so forth, so while they complain about life being hard for them many others suffer and starve. but also they are expected to be grateful and obedient to what harms and controls them (theon: the hostage system; rhaenyra: womanhood). and their fears get a bit dismissed. in a meta way. theon feared for his life and in a way, so did also rhaenyra ("my mother was forced to squeeze out heirs until it killed her"). like not wanting that fate is not being an entitled selfish brat. it's not failing at gratitude! and yet!
anddd the sexually abusive evil uncle. well that's way more explicit with rhaenyra of course.
kind of theon also how rhaenyra's victimisation then casts her as "filthy". how her reactions to her circumstances make her a bad survivor who doesn't deserve sympathy any more because of a bad attitude. like, say, the night out with beloved sexually abusive predatory uncle. then coming home from this in a bad way (criston immediately: are you hurt, princess?) and the fallout is she's a whore. latches on to criston, you could say he took advantage of her state but also it's ambiguous and messy and i don't think either of them did something terrible there, but the fallout literally all: she's bad, she's inappropriate, she's irresponsible, she's dirty, how could she! (including the best friend!). but when she then also makes deliberate subsequent choices that prove her deliberation and agency in this, that she means to find sexual joy and she will. which means that….. she never was victimised in the first place? she was irresponsible all along? "she gets to have everything"? spoiled cunt after all?
generally i feel the way in which all these factors - playing it with a smile, acting wilful, being trouble, having a "bad attitude" make her into, idk, Not Deemed Vulnerable. as they say about theon: he was treated soooo well!
also not sure whom to connect that to - not euron, not thramsay, not throbb, but WHAT is this relationship with daemon! i'm So interested yet so upset. maybe the seeking safety, power and freedom in hurtful places. ending up yet very alone with how you're being harmed. of course, this is all extremely, extremely bleak. theon is about seeking freedom and breaking free which all devolves into horror but that doesn't mean that the seeking was meaningless nor that there aren't pockets of escape. i guess i'm always more interested when the paths of victim-perpetrator-agency-entrapment converge so messily, maybe that's the connection. (but the choking scene! i knew this was going to be bleak, but this is really very bleak.)
rhaenicent-throbb has been compared already from what i see and sure you have the close very special friend who is also your king/queen who may command you and whom you let down and maybe for halfway good reason (rhaenyra DID lie to alicent but also her mistrust was well-placed?) but the "betrayal" if you should even call it that is still catastrophic. part of if isn't even rhaenyra's fault but viserys's and otto's joint work but then neither was everything theon's fault. i thought you and i were in this together but then you do this to me. you leave me behind with all this, having destroyed some of what was dear to me, and i trusted you! but then of course alicent is certainly no robb. selkie is correct here in stating they both are theon.
to end on a slightly positive note from the theon emotions pov rhaenyra's (brief) luck in creating this queer little family built on mutual trust and friendship and protection is rather what i would hope could be possible for theon in the future. including having 'heirs'. i mean of course the thing with rhaenyra's heirs is they actually are her heirs (her being the mother) and yet there's all sorts of complications as we can see. so maybe my fantasising about smooth underhanded greyjoy succession has been a bit too rosy lol.
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𝗡𝗼 𝗦𝘂𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗲𝘀 - 𝟬𝟮
pairing: jjk x fem. reader
summery - meeting new people can be nerve-wracking, but that's how you make new friends.
word count: 1,2k
content: x reader, pre canon au, genshin impact inspired themes, crack, fluff, (in the future: manga spoilers, angst, satoru x reader...)
series masterlist | previous chapter!
tokyo, august 21 2005
"i think i'll have the blueberry cheesecake..." you finally decide after thinking about it for a while and looking at the different options at the shop window.
satoru joined you. "yeah, me too."
you looked at him in annoyance in response. "are you stupid? pick something else. we can't both have the same thing." you pointed at something else in the window by tapping on the glass. "take the chocolate cake. i want to try it."
his mood worsened at your statement. "you always do this, and then you don't share yourself, so i always end up eating the things you actually want!" he threw the accusation at you being finally fed up with your behavior.
you laughed lightly and didn't take him seriously. "is that so?" you didn't elaborate further because you didn't really care, to be honest. it wasn't your fault that he always wanted to order the same thing you did. hasn't he ever heard of the rule that when you go out to eat somewhere, you have to pick different stuff?
you waited outside on a bench while he went in to buy the pastries, and you looked a little surprised when he came out a few minutes later with a box too big for just two cakes. "what did you buy?" you asked him a bit judgmentally. though, maybe the right question to ask was how much. you shouldn't have let him go in alone.
he just shrugged his shoulders. "the cakes and a few other things because we're going to meet some of my friends." he casually gave the reason while being very aware of the fact that this wasn't the original plan.
you shook your head. "no, we didn't talk about anything like that. i don't want to meet your friends." you said directly without hesitation. you had a relatively good day today, a good mood, and the weather was nice. you wouldn't ruin that by spending your precious time being awkward around other people.
satoru just rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. "i know you don't like talking to strangers, but you need to get out of your comfort zone a bit."
there was literally no reason why you had to do that. you didn't know why he made that his mission today. "i'm doing this with you already, isn't that enough?" you complained.
he sent you an offended look at that statement. "we've known each other for ages. that's definitely not the definition of strangers." he said a bit bitter. you always had to unintentionally break his heart like that.
you avoided his gaze. "i'll look up the definition right now if you keep bugging me." you said, being a little petty but also didn't want to risk exposing yourself in case he was right. you guys had been hanging out pretty often since you met two months ago, and he also texts you every day and spams your phone with dumb memes. "besides, i don't want to meet your stupid friends."
"they're not stupid. come on." he ignored your whining and went ahead. he knew you would follow him eventually since he was carrying your blueberry cheesecake. otherwise, he wouldn't have acted so confidently.
you considered following him for a while until you shouted. "wait for me!" you said and ran after him.
a while after that...
you ate your cake in silence and didn't pay much attention to the others. it was kind of relaxing to picnic outside, you thought. especially in the shady place under the trees. but even though you were a person who said what was on their mind most of the time, you were pretty quiet right now. well, you were kinda outnumbered here, so one could say that you felt a little intimidated, perhaps.
was it very obvious that you had grown up isolated and had never actually interacted with others around your age? you hoped not because even if you didn't like to admit it, satoru was the only person you would consider somewhat of a friend, and you certainly didn't want to put that on your resume.
"so, why aren't you a jujutsu sorcerer if you can see curses?" the girl next to you asked you in a casual tone.
you shrugged your shoulders and answered without looking her in the face. you were pretty nervous right now, you always wanted to be friends with a girl. "i don't know. why do you ask stupid questions when you can just shut up?"
satoru looked at you with disappointment. "hey, what did we talk about? stop being mean to others as a defense meschanism. you need to let others into you." he said the last sentence in a therapist voice while pointing both his hands to his heart. "this way, you just come across as a total asshole and no one will like you that way."
you just rolled your eyes and wondered why he always bothered you to hang out with him if you were such an ass. "that's what your mom did last night."
the other two friends laughed lightly at the trap that the gojo had set up for himself. he looked a bit betrayed at the two before he started saying something quick to somehow save his honor. "well, unlike you, i have a certain charm that appeals to older women. so i don't know. maybe i actually have a chance with your mom." he countered, emphasizing the last words extra hard.
it was a little painful to watch him try so hard. he just made things worse with that awkward statement. "my mom's dead, actually." she wasn't, but you loved the look on others' faces when you told them that after they made a your mom joke. you tried to stifle your laughter at satoru's expression, but you couldn't help but slightly contort your face.
it was a bit difficult not to be childish when you had lost your childhood to the hands of adults. it was something you would never get back and therefore would always stick with you.
the white-haired boy finally noticed what you did. "stop lying to make me look like a idiot! you really made me seem like a bad person!"
the three of you thought the same thing at what he said. he was worried about that? satoru's best friend couldn't help but add something as well. you think his name was suguru. "you don't need her help for that, i think you can do that all by yourself."
this led to the two continuing to bicker and exchange insults and threats with each other as they butted heads.
shoko ignored them and turned to you again. she didn't really mind your rudeness. you seemed like a good person with a tough shell. she asked you something because she wanted to make sure that she had heard you correctly before. "what did you say your last name was again?"
you looked at her and answered with a disinterested tone after reaching for a fruit roll. "raiden. why?"
she shook her head. "no reason." she looked up through the small gaps in the foliage, which let out pretty rays of sunlight. raiden means thunder and lightning, doesn't it?
to be continued...
#anime x reader#x reader#x you#x female y/n#x fem!reader#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk#jjk gojo#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen satoru#gojou satoru x reader#gojo saturo#geto suguru#jjk geto#shoko ieiri#jjk x y/n#jjk imagines#jjk fanfic#jjk fanfiction#fanfiction#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you
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Alright because of all the support on my last post with Stiles, I figured I should write another 😚👍
Worried Sick Stiles Stilinski x fem!reader
Context: established relationship, Stiles comes to visit you when you don't show up to school
Warnings: none, just fluff
Wordcount: 1.1k
You had been in your room curled up in bed, tangled in blankets and stuffed animals all while you were supposed to be at school.
You had just gotten your period and your cramps left you nothing short of bedridden and on the verge of throwing up all day. You were experiencing womanhood at its absolute finest, to say the least.
Suddenly, the door to your room swung open, and a very confused and distressed Stiles entered your room. His expression softened once he saw you weren't dead or bleeding out, and a wave of relief seemed to wash over him.
"Not using the window to get in anymore?" You asked jokingly, rolling to your side to face Stiles who had now set down his bag and kneeled at the side of your bed. Being Scott's twin, you and Stiles needed to keep your relationship a secret. That's why when it came to hanging out, Stiles would always come in through your window rather than your front door so the both of you wouldn't get caught.
"Well, you gave me a key to your house for a reason right? Also going in through the window would've taken me too long," Stiles explains, his expression still slightly filled with worry as he placed one of his hands on your bed while the other tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.
"What were you in such a rush for?" You ask with a chuckle in reaction to Stiles's seriousness, snaking your hand out of your covers and placing it on top of his.
"Well you didn't show up to school and I was worried," He explains, his expression soft and genuine. "I thought something bad might've happened," He says quietly and slowly.
For any other boyfriend, his girlfriend not showing up to school shouldn't cause them this much stress, but considering all the supernatural shit Stiles has somehow managed to get involved in, he couldn't help but worry himself to death.
"I'm okay Stiles, really I am," You say, reassuring him, "Just on my period that's all," You explain, trying to manage a smile but your stomach felt like it was being turned inside out, so it probably came out as more slightly disturbing than comforting.
"Ok good, I thought it could've had something to do with that. Which is why-" Stiles says, relieved, as he gets up and grabs his bag before sitting down next to you on the bed. "I have come prepared," He continues with a goofy smirk plastered on that stupidly cute face of his.
You sit up lazily as Stiles begins to show you what he bought. He whips out a plastic bag from inside of his backpack with items ranging from Tylonal, Advil, and Mydol, (which you immediately snatched and swallowed), all the way to chocolates and a heated stuffed animal.
"I got confused when I saw all the... feminine products, so- um-" He explains while taking out yet another plastic shopping bag from his backpack to reveal at least ten different boxes of tampons and pads.
You pause and stare at the ginormous haul of items that Stiles has bought you and you can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude.
You appreciated Stiles and his caring towards you more than anything, especially in moments like these. He always knew the right things to do and the right things to say, and you loved him for it.
Stiles, however, didn't take your silence in the right way. "I'm sorry- it's stupid I know, I bought way too much. I bet I still have the receipt somewhere, maybe I can still return it-" He asked, sadness and disappointment slowly creeping into his voice.
"No!" You reply quickly. "Don't return it, and none of this is stupid," You confirm before sighing for a moment. "Stiles, this is literally like the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me," You explain, turning to look at him while you say it, a smile slowly forming on your face as you do so.
"Really?" Stiles questions, his embarrassed expression being replaced by one of relief and pride.
"Really," You say while scooting over in your bed and patting the space next to you, beckoning him to join you.
Stiles lays down next to you, and you gladly roll over and climb on top of him, resting your head by the crook of his neck as you wrap your arms around him. The heat radiated off of his body as you listened to his heartbeat and the slow movements of his chest going up and down.
Stiles brought the covers over you and kissed your head before speaking once more, "You don't want to use the stuffed animal I gave you?" He asks with a chuckle as he wraps his arms around you, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your back.
"Nope, I think you'll do just fine," You say as you lift your head to look up at him.
Stiles takes this moment to lean down and kiss you gently. He kissed and held you as if you were the most fragile thing in the world. As if with one wrong move you'd shatter into a million pieces, so he treated you with such care, holding you softly and closely to make sure you didn't.
Though the kiss only lasted a few moments, it made you forget all about the pain you felt in your abdomen and replaced it with butterflies. He definitely had a way of making you feel safe and comfortable whenever you were around him.
Once he pulled away, he looked at you with hearts in his eyes, "You're so beautiful, you know that right baby?" He said, his voice so faint that it practically made your heart beat out of your chest. He removed one of his hands from your back and placed it on your cheek and you immediately melted into his touch.
You could only let out a satisfied hum in response, you were too lost in his features to bother replying coherently.
Stiles let out a low chuckle as he kissed your forehead, his hand moving from your cheek to the back of your head, stroking your hair as he did so.
"Get some sleep okay?" He said while wrapping his arm just a bit tighter around you, "I'll be right here if you need anything," He said softly.
"I know," You say, your words muffled slightly as you rest your head in the crook of his neck, "You're not goin' anywhere," You say with a smile as you place a quick kiss on his neck.
"Didn't plan on it," Stiles mumbles, about to fall asleep even before you do. But as your meds kick in, you can't help but slowly drift off to sleep as well.
Okay, I'm having WAYYYYYY too much fun writing these I'm sorry 😭
I finished majority of my finals so I'm going to be much more active again so keep sending in requests! I'm continuing to work on them
Also, I cannot thank you guys enough for all of the compliments and praise I've received on my last post with Stiles, it was literally so sweet of you guys. My inbox was literally filled with people praising my writing and y'all have no idea how happy that made me, like literally my heart almost burst.
#teen wolf stiles#teen wolf#teenwolf#teen wolf fanfiction#teen wolf imagine#stiles stilinski#teen wolf stiles stilinski#stiles stilinski fanfiction#stiles x reader#stiles stilinski imagine#teen wolf x reader#x reader#teen wolf fanfic#stiles stilinski x reader#stiles fluff
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Was Snape’s magic intentional or accidental in The Prince's Tale, DH?
So, I had a discussion a while ago that I still think about, about whether Snape intentionally or accidentally dropped the branch on Petunia. They argued in a video that Snape intentionally broke a tree branch on Petunia when he was nine years old. According to this person, Snape aimed to drive a wedge between Petunia and Lily and deliberately hit Petunia with the branch because she was spying. The implication in the comments was that Snape's actions contributed to Petunia's later abusive behavior towards Harry and her ‘fear of magic’. They furthermore argued that if Lily could control her magic so can Snape and that Snape already knew curses when he started school etc. I of course defended Snape because I believe it to have been accidental magic on his part since it is already established in the books that children are prone to emotional outbursts. It's quite a bold claim in my opinion, and since I still think about it, I decided to write a “short” analysis on the specific memory.
First of all, let’s get it out of the way that there's nothing in the memory that explicitly confirms whether Snape's action was intentional or accidental. As readers, we're left to interpret it and consider the most likely scenarios. Since I personally believe it to have been accidental, I will be looking at clues in the memory that points to an accidental use of magic from an emotional outbust.
What we know about Snape is that when he started Hogwarts, he displayed intelligence, talent, and an attraction to the dark arts. It's said he knew more curses than half the seventh-year students when he began school. While it's plausible he acquired this knowledge from books at home, it doesn't necessarily mean he could cast those spells.
Furthermore, Snape didn't possess a wand before starting Hogwarts, making it unlikely for him to cast such curses before that time. Additionally, Snape seemed to be aware of magical rules and the Ministry's leniency towards children due to their emotional outbursts and lack of control, as he mentioned to Lily in the memory.
It's also worth noting that the assumption that Snape could control his magic due to his later proficiency in magic and dark arts may not hold in emotionally charged situations. Just as Lily demonstrated control over her magic, Snape might have possessed such control, but it's different in situations of heightened emotion, where you can lose it.
Here is Snape and Lily talking about the rules:
““ . . . and the Ministry can punish you if you do magic outside school, you get letters.”
“But I have done magic outside school!”
“We’re all right. We haven’t got wands yet. They let you off when you’re a kid and you can’t help it. But once you’re eleven,” he nodded importantly, “and they start training you, then you’ve got to go careful.””
Despite his awareness, Snape is also speaking from experience. I doubt that there has ever been a magical child that hasn’t done accidental magic from an outburst. The description of him nodding his head importantly suggests he takes that matter seriously.
There's a subtle clue before the incident with Petunia that I wanted to touch on. This clue is evident in Snape’s reaction and body language when Lily asks him about his parents:
““How are things at your house?” Lily asked. A little crease appeared between his eyes. “Fine,” he said. “They’re not arguing anymore?” “Oh yes, they’re arguing,” said Snape. He picked up a fistful of leaves and began tearing them apart, apparently unaware of what he was doing.”
When Lily asks Snape about his parents, a crease appears between his eyebrows, signaling tension and discomfort for Snape. The word 'unaware' holds particular weight here. Snape appears lost in his thoughts, visibly upset about his parents' situation, while his hands unconsciously destroy the leaves. This moment is crucial as it underscores his lack of control in moments of distress.
I’m not sure if this is too far-fetched or that I’m reading into things that aren’t there but while this clue is physical and not magical, it provides some insight into Snape's physical responses on emotional discomfort.
If we consider this moment alongside the incident with the branch, it becomes apparent that Snape's magic was likely accidental. The crease in his brow and his unconscious action of tearing leaves point to a deeper, uncontrolled emotional response.
Onto the branch incident:
When Petunia is caught spying, Snape quickly jumps to his feet and starts shouting. From the outset, the atmosphere is tense, particularly given Petunia's rude demeanor from their first encounter:
“Snape had jumped to his feet. “Who’s spying now?” he shouted. “What d’you want?” Petunia was breathless, alarmed at being caught. Harry could see her struggling for something hurtful to say. “What is that you’re wearing, anyway?” she said, pointing at Snape’s chest. “Your mum’s blouse?” There was a crack. A branch over Petunia’s head had fallen. Lily screamed. The branch caught Petunia on the shoulder, and she staggered backward and burst into tears. “Tuney!” But Petunia was running away.“
This incident occurs immediately after Petunia insults Snape for wearing his mother’s smock, a remark intended to highlight his poverty. Petunia’s insult is particularly cruel, targeting Snape's socioeconomic status and attempting to embarrass him. The timing of the branch falling is crucial—it happens just as Snape is emotionally provoked by Petunia's hurtful comment. It's important to note that Snape doesn’t focus on or interact with the branch at all. His reaction is entirely directed at Petunia, not at his surroundings. The sudden crack and the branch falling, appear to be an unintended consequence of Snape's heightened emotional state. This sequence of events are suggesting that the branch falling was a direct result of Snape's loss of control rather than a deliberate magical act.
Paralleling Snape’s Branch Incident with Harry’s Wineglass Explosion:
A parallel can be drawn between the incident in Prisoner of Azkaban involving Aunt Marge and Harry, and the incident with Snape and the branch. In PoA, when Aunt Marge insults Harry’s mother, the wine glass she is holding immediately breaks. This incident mirrors Snape’s branch incident:
“Aunt Marge reached for her glass of wine. "It's one of the basic rules of breeding," she said. "You see it all the time with dogs. If there's something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the pup --" At that moment, the wineglass Aunt Marge was holding exploded in her hand. Shards of glass flew in every direction and Aunt Marge sputtered and blinked, her great ruddy face dripping.”
In both instances, the characters are subjected to deeply personal and hurtful insults. For Harry, Aunt Marge’s derogatory comment about his mother provokes a strong emotional response, causing the wine glass to shatter. Similarly, for Snape, Petunia's cruel remark about his smock and his socioeconomic status triggers him, resulting in the branch falling.
Now back to the incident with Petunia:
“Lily rounded on Snape. “Did you make that happen?”
“No.” He looked both defiant and scared.
“You did!” She was backing away from him. “You did! You hurt her!”
“No—no, I didn’t!” But the lie did not convince Lily. After one last burning look, she ran from the little thicket, off after her sister, and Snape looked miserable and confused . . .”
Lily, witnessing the incident, confronts Snape with a direct question: "Did you make that happen?" Her tone reflects a mixture of shock and suspicion, as she grapples with the idea of Snape causing harm to Petunia. Snape denies causing the branch to fall, but his demeanor betrays conflicting emotions. He appears both defiant, refusing to accept blame, and scared, possibly fearful of the repercussions or of losing Lily's trust. Despite Snape's denial, Lily remains convinced of his involvement. Her insistence and accusation highlight her growing unease and the strain on their relationship. Snape's final reaction—looking miserable and confused—reveals his internal turmoil. As a lonely child, Snape may lack a nuanced understanding of social norms and interactions. His isolation could contribute to his difficulty navigating relationships and expressing himself effectively. Caught between his desire to maintain his innocence and the realization that his uncontrolled magic may have caused harm, Snape's confusion is compounded by his struggle to comprehend the complexities of human emotions and interactions.
In conclusion, this tells me that his use of magic was accidental rather than intentional. Was he sorry the branch fell on her? Probably not, but it was caused by his outburst. Snape's magic also aligns with the pattern of accidental occurrences common among young wizards and witches.
This isn't the best analysis since I didn't look at the indicators of intentional magic but I don't really care either way to be honest, because it won't change how I view Snape's character overall.
#severus snape#lily evans#snily#harry potter#petunia evans#harry potter and the deathly hallows#the prince's tale#snape's memories#pro snape#magic#accidental magic#snape#young snape#professor snape#prisoner of azkaban#snape analysis#character analysis#snapedom#snape fandom#snape community#snape love
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Okay so a while ago my friend and I were high as kites talking culture and spirituality and we related briefly over the importance of hair in our respective cultures/religions (as a white person in the US my culture is heavily diluted and heathenry fills the gaps).
It was our first time really truly hanging out so I didn't immediately infodump everywhere, especially since I was trying to listen to what they were saying about being Hochunk and the importance of braids. Since then the topic hasn't come up and the need to talk about hair hasn't left so Here I Go
The Norsemen smelled nice and had good hair and would routinely seduce women away from their homes, to the point that there's written advice to young Anglo Saxon men to not get the Viking haircut even if it's popular with the ladies. Their hygiene wasn't great by modern standards, but they bathed regularly and also ritually, with heavy emphasis on their hair. Combs are found as grave goods -- also just freaking everywhere. So many combs.
"Elf locks" are what you get when you've been touched by an elf, which isn't good. Elves are scary beings and a person with knots in their hair could be considered charmed or worse: a changeling. I'm mixing some cultures here, as this is predominantly an Anglo Saxon belief, but the cultures blended heavily thanks to the raiding.
Medieval people also had to deal with fleas and nits, a side effect of using your animals as home heating (though let's be clear they lived in different areas of the space! And this is a logical heating option for living near the Arctic). As a result, they would often bleach their hair! Which then was found attractive, dark hair turning a red and blondes turning bright blonde.
Hair is an important association in the mythology as well. While Norse Heathenry doesn't have a "canon" the myths can still give insight into their values, and many figures are described by their hair: Sif has golden hair like wheat or flax, Thor is ruddy, and Odin has a long beard.
Modern heathens often adopt hair care as a form of worship or ancestral connection, getting Norse haircuts or ritually brushing their hair. It's not a "requirement" of the faith (there are no requirements tbh) but it's a good way to connect. Personally I take my curly hair routine very seriously -- I gotta get all the hot Saxon women, after all!
#there's so much more about women's hair specifically and the research around the freyja and Valkyrie figurines#but it'a finals week and this is good enough#norse heathen#norse paganism
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for april fool's day i'm deactivating!! but also it's kind of not a joke!!!i
#i seriously have been considering it for a while#especially after today#idk my mental health is down in the dumps rn#i should throw myself off a cliff while we're at it#rant
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like. don’t get me wrong… i’m STILL showering regularly, but like… was anybody going to TELL me that my hair becoming unbearably greasy after one day of not showering wasn’t normal?? because i lived my entire life up to this point assuming that it was, and now suddenly i could probably not shower for a week (staying otherwise clean) and it would be just fine???? WHAT??????????
#source: i am on accutane now#seriously like. the fact that my face is no longer in constant pain from cystic acne is GREAT#but my hair not being constantly greasy might be even better!!!!#i was SERIOUSLY dreading my top surgery recovery having no idea what i was gonna do with my hair while i couldn’t shower#and now i’m just like. Oh. it’s literally fine#WILD…#and like. probably what my hair feels like rn WOULD be considered greasy to some people#but it’s like. No. you don’t UNDERSTAND…#you don’t GET it…#anyways… hi! i’ve been on this shit less than a month and the results have been insane#so if anyone out there is struggling with excessively oily skin - PLEASE go try it#life changing
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Just got here. Tf is happening?
#strawbebies??#halo my love are you okay??#everyone clap i spent the last 4 hours totally offline 👍 <- was playing sims#(game is going well in case you're wondering)#(yes i am still building jorgen and mona's house. it took me a while to get everything exactly right)#(we are decorating now FINALLY)#it's been 4 days yes i know. listen. i take this seriously#no they are not my active family. they are simply my Sims's besties#yes im aware i will spend very little time inside their house. so what. i want my friends to have pretty and luxurious homes#the helvigs are living GOOD. got them a little inside pool and all#because why not#it pains me to make it all celebrity white minimalism but i gotta stay true to them.#the Scandinavian architecture does make it a lot better. nice warm wood accents and floors to make it less sterile#still. i gave them the most obnoxious wood centre table for the main living room and put exactly one (1) single flower there#i don't mind minimalism but this is too much uhg. i hate how vogue catalog this is turning out#ngl i am very seriously considering getting a minor only degree in interior design. like. I'm halfway there already#ANYWAYS. how is everyone? all we are alive still? facing the horrors? being brave?
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