#And it's the best piece of clothing I own

[purplecoffee13]

Please, Please, Please - pt.1

Summary: “Harry is utterly fascinated by his new neighbor, Y/N, and takes it upon himself to protect her. But little does Y/N know, that Harry may be the person she is supposed to be running from…”

Wc: 5.6k

Tropes: good girl x bad boy / neighbors

Warnings: mentions of violence, cursing, bit of gaslighting.

A/N: THIS IS A TWO PART ONE SHOT based on this request. Please note that it is based around the MUSIC VIDEO, not necessarily the song itself! I decided to cut it up into two parts, because it was getting awfully long, and I was too eager to share it with you. Next part will be steamy!

General Masterlist

You sigh, looking up at your new home. Well— you think. You're not exactly sure which window is yours, but you will figure it out once you're on the right floor. You adjust the duffel bag that is slung over your shoulder, and grab your suitcase before walking towards the entrance.

With your new set of keys which you got from the landlord yesterday, you open the door to the lobby. Or, hallway with post boxes. That would definitely be a more accurate way to describe it.

When you were little and fantasized about moving into a place of your own, you have to admit, you did imagine something a bit less... intimidating. Unfortunately, you had been left with no choice.

Ever since your dad died about five years ago, your mother has been serial dating like there was no tomorrow. You had learned to ignore the different men in your kitchen, eating the cereal and drinking your coffee at 7am, but lately something had changed.

Your mother had stuck with one man.

Sadly for you—and your mother, although she wasn't ready to admit that—the guy was a fucking prick. Worst thing about him? He was sneaky about it. When you confronted your mother, telling her you weren't sure if her new boyfriend was that good of a guy, she had flipped out. As she threw all kinds of accusations on the table, such as you not wanting her to be happy and even insinuating you want her boyfriend for herself, you decided that enough was enough.

That night, you hunted the internet for an affordable place. It's how you found this apartment. You knew it wasn't the best neighborhood, but it was a place of your own, and you were sure that you could make it on your own over there.

After all, you had a well paid office job not too far away, and the costs of the apartment wouldn't interfere too much with your saving for law school.

So, kind of on a whim, you contacted the landlord. And now, here you are, ready to unpack all of your stuff. Your mother had at least been so kind to hire a moving truck, but you think it mainly had to do with her wanting you out of her house as quick as possible. You shared the sentiment, so you hadn't said much about it, besides a polite thank you of course.

It takes you three hours to get everything upstairs, and the janitor, Rod, even helps you out with some of the big furniture. Being a tall, broad guy, appearing to be in his sixties, you had actually been quite unnerved by him. Nevertheless, you decided to play smart and throw him a sweet smile the first time you ran into him. It had faded the seemingly permanent  frown on his ever so slightly, and after introducing yourself, his face was even neutral.

It didn't take more than three minutes of chit chat before Rod had warmed up to you, and by the end of the fifteen minutes, he offered to help you. If it hadn't been for him, you would've still been carrying pieces of your couch into your apartment.

You had been able to take over the bed frame and the dining table from the previous owner, so you only had to put your mattress on your bed before you could let yourself fall on it and chill out for a while.

After letting yourself rest for about fifteen minutes, you unpack as much of the stuff in the kitchen, and you spend the rest of the night unpacking your clothes while dancing to the music that blasts through your headphones.

At around midnight, you pass out during a feeble attempt at sorting your socks.

Your peaceful slumber gets interrupted, however, by an array of less peaceful noises coming from another apartment. The first few minutes awake are spent with your eyes stubbornly closed, hoping to fall asleep again, but when you hear an extremely loud thud, your eyes shoot open.

Getting up from your bedroom, you walk over to your door, and look through the peephole. It doesn't seem like there is anyone in the hallway, and the sounds do seem to have quieted down. You sigh, turning around to go back to your bed, when you hear a shout, followed by another thump. Frowning, you go back and open the door, walking out into the hallway. You squint, and blink a few times to get used to the harsh light. Then, you knock on the door in front of you.

There's a couple of voices sounding from inside the apartment, but no one answers. You groan, knocking again, and even harsher this time. It grows quiet, and you are contemplating going back to bed, hoping whoever is on the other side of that wall got the message, but then the door swings open.

In front of you stands a man, with brown curls and a very apparent frown on his face. One that falters ever so slightly at the sight of you, and is accompanied by a small smirk. He leans against the door frame. His cross necklace dangles, visible by his dress shirt that is far from buttoned all the way up, and you swear it hypnotizes you for the shortest second.

"H-hi." You stammer, looking at the man with wide eyes. His smirk grows, and you forget why you are even here.

"Hello." He greets back, hands sliding into his pockets as he looks you up and down, shamelessly. "What can I do for you, sweetheart?"

"Uh, I just moved into the apartment across from you, and I was wondering if you could keep down the noise a little bit?" You ask, but the man doesn't respond. He solely scans you with some sort of frown on his face. You can't deduce whether that is his neutral face, or if he's pissed at you. Nevertheless, you are kind of scared. "It's just— I don't mean to be rude. I just have to get up very early, and it was very loud, so... also, are you okay? It's— I heard a thud, I thought maybe someone fell?"

Once again, it grows quiet between the two of you. With every passing moment of silence, you are regretting your choice to knock. Did you really have to piss off your neighbors the first night you moved in? Couldn't have just battled through a broken night? You curse yourself as you wait for some sort of answer.

"Sure, sweetheart. I'll shut it all down for you."

You let out a breath of relief, glad to see he is not taking it badly. You bite your lip, trying to fight your smile from getting too wide.

"Really? Thank you so much! I appreciate it, and I really didn't mean to offend you or anything. I promise, it's just because I have to get up so early and the coffee at my work is horrible so—" You stop yourself mid-sentence when you realize you are babbling your new neighbor's ear off. "Never mind. Good night, and nice to meet you. My name is Y/N, by the way."

The man doesn't say anything once again, so you take it as your cue to get the fuck back to bed before making it worse. You walk into your apartment, turning around to close the door, when you hear his voice.

"Harry."

Your head shoots up, tilting it ever so slightly at the sudden word spoken by your neighbor. He tilts his head, mocking you, as he repeats the name while pointing to himself. With that, he turns around and closes the door. You do the same, leaning against the door as you realize you have the hottest new neighbor ever.

Another, extremely loud thud sounds from his apartment, and your eyebrows knit together. A loud voice is heard, one that is clearly Harry's shouting 'sorry!'. You giggle, shaking your head at the comedic timing before waltzing back to your bed.

Little do you know, that while you fall back asleep in your comfortable bed, your new neighbor thinks about you through the entire night. Harry's mind is absent, even as they drag the body of the guy that didn't pay up in time out of his apartment, even as he scrubs the blood off his hands and face.

"Sure, sweetheart. I'll shut it all down for you."

He had been purely sarcastic, baffled by the fact that you even had the guts to knock on his door. The first time you knocked, he thought it was just noise from outside or something. No one was stupid enough to knock on Harry Styles' door. No one was dumb enough to risk it.

But someone did knock; an insanely beautiful woman with nothing but an oversized shirt on. Well, shorts under it maybe, but for the sake of his imagination, you didn't. And you weren't stupid, you just didn't know whose door you were knocking on.

Anyone else who would have been foolish enough to do so, especially while he was dealing with a deadbeat who owed him more than enough money, would've met an entirely different fate.

The way you stumbled over your words and  let your eyes travel over his body had given him too much of an ego boost not to play with you a little bit. And once you had reacted so genuinely to his sarcastic response, he somehow didn't have it in his heart to tell you that he wasn't being serious.

Which is strange, because he didn't peg himself for someone with a heart, not anymore.

Nevertheless, he decided that you were right. The incessant noise had gone on long enough. And so, right after he closed the door, Harry turned around aimed his silencer right at the deadbeat's head. Following the thud of his body falling down, he had shouted a 'sorry' for the last noise he would make that night.

Now, as he lays in bed, the reason for his sleeplessness isn't the weight of another death on his shoulders. No, it's his new neighbor and her long, bare legs.

************************************************

ONE DAY LATER

Your shoulders are hurting.

After yesterday's moving activities and today's excruciatingly long day at work, you are exhausted. Not only did you have to do an insane amount of paperwork today, you also got assigned to even more administrative work that shouldn't even be yours to deal with in the first place.

When you had mentioned you wanted to gain experience in the field of law during your interview for receptionist at a law firm, you hadn't expected them to throw all the work in your lap. You were doing a lot of things, spending way too many after hours in the office, doing jobs that were never in your job description, and instead labeled as 'ways to gain experience'. The worst thing is, your boss is acting like these tasks are a huge favor to you, but you know it's just the jobs that they are too lazy to do themselves.

Nonetheless, you don't say anything about it. Despite the cruelness and sometimes uselessness of the assignments you are given, you do have access to active cases that lawyers are working on, and it gives you an opportunity to observe their styles and its effectiveness.

Wanting to become a lawyer is something you had always dreamed of. You loved justice, and you weren't afraid to fight for it. In your day to day life, you are very sweet, bubbly, and in some cases—like yesterday—even shy. But once you are in a professional setting, you can switch and stand strong. The division between your personal and professional self is one you have learned to balance very well, and you also use it as a secret weapon. People are way too quick to underestimate you, and you always make sure it comes back to bite them in the ass.

You put your groceries and briefcase on the ground, allowing yourself to look for your keys, which you forgot to take out of your bag and are now buried somewhere at the bottom. Head deep into your purse, you don't notice Harry walking out of his apartment until his door shuts. It is right after you've found your keys, so with them in hand you turn around to greet him with a smile.

Your new neighbor looks gorgeous, which doesn't bode well for you because you are currently feeling like an expired, mushy sack of potatoes. You shiver at the thought.

"Hey!" You say instead.

"Hello sweetheart." His smooth, English accent hits your ears just right. "Sleep well last night?"

Your cheeks turn pink, and you nod. "Yes, thank you for asking. Oh! Speaking of..."

You turn around and bend down to dig through your grocery bag. When your eyes meet Harry's again, you are reaching out a bouquet of flowers. He stares at it, wary of your intentions.

"They're for you." You feel the need to clarify.

"Aw, sweetheart, you didn't have to go through the hassle of buying me flowers. I'm quite an easy man you know, all you have to do is ask." He says, grin wide as he observes the way your eyes nearly pop out of your sockets at the suggestion of him and you. He likes seeing you all flustered.

"W-what, no! I— it was for yesterday! Because you were so nice to me. I wanted to make up for meeting in such an unfortunate way. Didn't want you to think you have a shitty neighbor now or something." You explain, watching Harry's amusement at your awkwardness.

"I'd never think that, sweetheart." His voice is low, and despite saying it in a bit of a joking way, you swallow at the sound of the sentence. The raspiness of it just gets to you. You brush your nerves off with a weak smile, and turn to open your door.

"Well, have a good night." You say, awkwardly waving at Harry as you carry your bags into your apartment. You place them in your hallway before walking back to close the door. Harry waves back with the flowers, winking at you.

"Good night, sweetheart."

Your heart races at the continuous nickname. It sounds so sexy coming out of his mouth, and it is the only thing you can think of as you cook your dinner. It is even hard to concentrate while watching your favorite show.

A few hours go by, and the sound of Harry's voice doesn't fade from your mind. Neither does the excruciating pain in your shoulders. At around nine p.m. you give up and decide to grab some painkillers. However, to your great horror, you find out that you ran out and forgot to buy new ones.

Cursing yourself, you rush over to your coatrack and grab your jacket. Along with your purse, containing important things such as money, your keys, and pepper spray, you leave your apartment to pop into the convenience store nearby.

It's only a five minute walk, but with your speed you cut a minute from that estimate. It takes a little bit to find the paracetamol, but after grabbing two boxes of pills, you rush to the cash register. You wait until the man in front of you has paid, smiling politely when he turns around to walk out of the store, and step forward to pay for your painkillers.

Despite the cashier's monotone voice, you are more than satisfied with this convenience store, and you walk out smiling at the knowledge of being rid of your pain very soon.

You flinch at the sight of the man from before standing right outside, grinning at you as you walk by. Despite his middle aged appearance, his teeth are rather yellow. You avoid making further eye contact, tension growing in your stomach. As you walk back to your apartment, you make sure to keep your pace quick.

You're too scared to look behind you, but you feel it. You feel that this man is walking a few meters behind you and you also feel like you might throw up. But you keep walking, keys in one hand, pepper spray in the other.

You are ready to open the door that leads you to the hallway of your apartment complex, and immediately push the key into the hole once you get there. But for some stupid fucking reason, the door won't budge. Your heartbeat rises and your hands are getting clammy as you shimmy your keys, trying to open that goddamn door. As your eyes begin to water, you hear a voice behind you.

"Need some help, pumpkin?"

Frantically, your eyes search for a way to get out of here. Your eyes fall into the intercom, but you can't seem to find some sort of emergency button. Since you can't buzz yourself in, that option seems to be useless.

Then, an idea enters your mind.

You take a deep breath, hoping it'll steady your voice before you respond. "No thank you."

The man chuckles. "I think you do. 'S okay, I like a damsel in distress."

Pulling the key out of the hole and wrapping your hand around it, you turn around to the man. You swallow your pride and try to be as nice as you can be when rejecting someone. Stepping back a bit, you almost lean against the wall as you blindly press one of the buttons behind you. Luckily, the noise of ringing a bell isn't very loud from downstairs, so you don't think the man notices your sneaky action.

"I am fine, good night." You say, your smile gone now. You can't find it in yourself to be nice and sweet after that creepy comment. Technically, you are very helpless right now. Because of him, and his actions that fill you with fear. The threat of his presence is what makes you that 'damsel in distress' in the first place, and you hate the fact that men idolize saving you when often they are the danger itself.

"I don't think you are. Why don't you come with me, get a drink together?" His tone is dominated by the insincerity that drips from his words. You know it isn't a question, it's a command. The salacious smirk he wears with it is disgusting, and the way his eyes shamelessly scan you makes you want to shower five times just to feel less gross.

You feel the slight pain in your thumb for pressing so much and hard into the button behind you, but you can't help but pray that your idea will work.

"No, please leave me alone." You try to be as stern as you can, although your shaky voice isn't conveying that message very well.

"I don't think you understood what I said, pumpkin. You and me are gonna get a drink together." He reaches forward and grabs you by your arm, pulling you towards him. You try to shake him off of you, but his grip only tightens. You choke out a cry, still trying to get his grimy hands off of you while he only buries his fingernails further into your skin.

"Let me go!" You scream as loud as you can, hoping that there is someone who will at least hear you. Your free hand reaches into your purse, and you pull out your pepper spray. In a split second, you are holding it up and spray it in the man's eyes.

He shrieks in shock, and lets go of you, covering his eyes with his hands. You quickly turn around to run back inside, but crash into a body on your way there.

Holding your waist, Harry keeps you from falling over. He frowns, his jaw clenching when he catches your terror filled, red eyes.

"Go inside." He orders. While the context is stern, the words spoken come out way softer than one would think when demanding something from someone. You don't have to be told twice, rushing through the open door and running up the countless flights of stairs. You are completely out of breath when you reach your floor, but you don't stop hurrying until you are in the safety of your own apartment.

You tear all your clothes off your body, feeling like you might choke because everything you have on feels to tight to your skin. You keep crying as you jump into the shower to wash yourself off, as you take off your make-up, and as you put a tank top and loose sweatpants on your freshly washed body.

You take your head out of the bun it was in to keep it dry as you walk towards your front door upon hearing a knock. When you open it, you're standing face-to-face with your neighbor.

"Are you okay?" Harry asks, eyebrows knotted as he looks at you. You nod, not wanting to say a word because you don't want to make him uncomfortable by becoming a blubbering mess in front of him. "Can I come in?"

You nod again, opening the door further so he can enter your place. His steps are careful and light, and you see his eyes scan the apartment as he walks in. You shut the door behind him, making Harry turn around to look at you.

He is back at your side as soon as he spots the marks on your arm that the creepy man left when he tried to take you to god knows where. With a tight jaw, Harry glances up at you.

"You need to put ice on that. It's gonna bruise."

You look down, too timid to meet his gaze, and notice Harry's red knuckles. It doesn't take you very long to put two and two together. For some reason, you don't want to directly mention that just yet, so instead you whisper:

"You too."

Harry lets out a breathy chuckle and nods his head, watching you as you walk over to your freezer to get some ice. Putting it in two different dish cloths, you hand one to him before walking over to your couch. Harry follows suit, plopping next to you and putting the cloth meant for him on your arm.

Flushed from that action, you slowly grab his hand and place it flat on your thigh. Ignoring the way it makes the rest of your body feel, you press the ice filled cloth against his knuckles, hoping the cold will give him some relief. He winces, his fingers tightening around your thigh ever so slightly before immediately relaxing again.

Your eyes travel to your own arm, initially to see Harry's hand wrapped around it. However, the sight of the red marks on your arm make your eyes water again, the memory from what just happened resurfacing. The sickening fear of not knowing how the fuck to get out of that situation is as overwhelming as it was just before, even though you are safe now. You hate that a man made you feel so weak.

You can't help the tears from flowing, so you just let them as you silently recall the events of tonight. Your thoughts are cut in on when Harry removes his bruised hand from your thigh and cups it around your jaw. He leans forward, green eyes all sympathetic.

"It's okay, you're okay. He won't hurt you anymore, or ever again." He whispers. You shut your eyes, your silent tears now breaking into soft sobs. There is no choice but to let the sadness flow, and relish in the comfort of Harry's fingers wiping away your tears as you cry out the stress you had been feeling, and give it a place.

You feel it getting lighter with every cry. Each tear that Harry catches is a bit of weight off your shoulders. For some reason he chooses to sit there and offer you a space to store your pain. And even though normally you would never allow yourself, tonight you make use of that space.

*****************************************

A few weeks had gone by, and Harry had taken it upon himself to become your new watch dog. After what happened, he refused to let you go outside by yourself.

The morning after the incident, you got up and went to work like normal. But when you opened your apartment door, you ran into Harry, who had also been planning on going outside. He walked you to your car, and watched as you drove away. That night, when you returned from work, you ran into him again in the hallway downstairs, and walked to your apartments together.

After about three nights of these exact same situations, you could confirm for yourself that Harry was waiting to escort you anywhere.

You thought confronting him about your knowledge of his schemes would put an end to the overprotectiveness, but you were proved wrong. Instead of toning down his behavior, he amped it up. There wasn't a trip to the supermarket that you made by yourself anymore. And anytime you tried to say something about his following you everywhere, he would make up a silly excuse that left you speechless with flushed cheeks and a stupid grin on your face. You gave up fighting it not long after that, mainly because you enjoy his company so much.

Being so close to Harry all the time did make you realize how much distance everyone else kept from him. You didn't miss how people avoided his gaze, or how certain cashiers stumbled over their words as you paid for your groceries. It had you wondering; just how scary was Harry?

Harry had really taken it upon himself to protect you. It kind of went automatically, if he had to be honest. He simply couldn't watch you walk around the neighborhood so defenseless. What happened to you had enraged him so much, he didn't want a repetition of it.

Of course, an exact repetition was not an option anymore since he had beaten up the guy who assaulted you to the point where he was hospitalized. Harry couldn't find it in himself to feel even the slightest of remorse. Well, maybe only for the fact that he didn't kill him right then and there. He would have, had he not been too worried about you being alone upstairs.

Soon enough, word had traveled about your association with Harry, and it resulted into people being afraid of you. You were so incredibly confused about the shaky voices of people you'd ask for help in stores. You had never imagined yourself to have such an intimidating aura.

Since Harry had taken it upon himself to watch you, you had taken it upon yourself to feed him. It was the least you could do, and it gave you a reason to keep him around longer at night.

Part of you was aware that wanting to get closer to Harry might not be the best idea, especially considering the collectively instilled fear that lingered everywhere he would go. But he was so sweet to you, and you were sure that there was an explanation.

So, tonight during dinner, you had decided you would ask him about it.

Harry was delighted when you asked him if he wanted to stay and eat, and didn't hesitate to say yes. Now as he leans against the counter, watching you cook the pasta you promised to prepare, you have to actively control your breathing. His intense stare has a way of turning your legs into jelly and fogging up your mind.

"How was your day?" You ask him as casually as you can. Harry doesn't tear his eyes off of you, grinning at the way he is making you squirm.

"Good, love."

You swallow at the new nickname he suddenly conjured up. The low baritone of his voice combined with his green eyes on yours has your heartbeat getting out of control. You hear the breathy chuckle leaving Harry's mouth, and it makes your stomach turn. He knows exactly what he is doing.

"So, uhm... I have a question." You say, focusing extra hard on stirring the boiling pasta. He hums, indirectly telling you to ask away. You turn down the pitch on which your pasta stands, and turn to face him. For the first second that you meet his eyes, you were forget what you were even going to ask him, but you quickly regain your senses.

"Why is everyone here so afraid of you?" You tilt your head, really observing Harry. Sure, he is tall, with a broad and muscled figure. He always wears dark clothes and his green eyes will never look away first. But to truly be terrified of this man? You couldn't imagine why.

Harry doesn't say anything. He pushes himself away from the counter and walks towards you, slowly towering over your smaller frame. He leans forward, his face closer to yours than it has ever been before, and it gives you ideas that you probably shouldn't have.

"Do I scare you?"

Silently, you shake your head. Harry's eyes slowly travel down your face, fixating on your mouth for the longest five seconds you have ever experienced, and then shoot back up to meet yours again. "Then why do you care so much about what others think?"

"I don't." You respond embarrassingly fast, overwhelmed with a need to get his approval.

"Well, there you have your answer."

With that, he turns around to the counter and grabs the glass of white wine you poured for him. Taking it between his hands as if it were a cocktail glass, you watch entranced as he takes a sip. Your gaze falls onto his hands. You feel sinful for the thoughts that occupy your mind, but they fly out the window when you spot how bruised his knuckles are. And you realize...

"No, I don't." You say sternly. Harry looks at you, amused by your protest. "I don't know anything about you, Harry."

Harry laughs, but it’s a bitter laugh, accompanied by his hand running through his hair and his head shaking as if he can’t believe what he is dealing with. A part of you wants to get on your knees and beg him to forgive you for being suspicious of who he truly is, but you refrain from doing it.

“People fear what they don’t know, Y/N.” He says, his eyes finding yours. Your heart starts beating faster, aware of the fact that his eyes are going to keep being trained on yours without even so much as faltering.

“I don’t give a fuck about what those people think of me, they don’t know me. You do. So why is their judgment relevant? I’m here, aren’t I? Standing in front of you, letting you know me. Is that not enough?”

You feel a pang of guilt in your stomach at his words, and the authenticity of them. You let out a sigh, breaking eye contact to look down at the floor, contemplating what he’s saying. Maybe he is right.

“Sorry.” You say so softly it could almost be classified as a whisper. The feeling of Harry’s fingers pushing your chin up makes your eyes meet his, and you notice the hint of a smile he wears.

“Go sit.”

Slightly confused, you follow his order, looking back at him to see him finishing up the pasta and making a bowl for the both of you.

“I’m 29.” He states, his back still to you. Your mouth breaks into a smile, and you prop your elbow on the couch, leaning your chin into the palm of your hand as you observe him.

“Really?” You are grinning like a proper idiot now. Harry nods.

“I don’t have any siblings, but we did have a dog, and we rescued a stray kitten that was sleeping in our garden.” He goes on, turning around and walking over to the couch with the bowls of pasta. He sits down and hands you one.

“What are their names?” You ask.

“Dog is called Pepper. Mum let me name the cat, so I named her Hades.” He explains, making you a giggle.

“You named your girl cat Hades?”

“Persephone is such a mouthful. Plus, I was like ten, and had this big obsession with Hades.” He shrugs, taking a bite of the pasta. Your eyes widen, and you begin to laugh even harder.

“You mean to tell me that little ten years ago old Harry was obsessed with the Greek God of the underworld, the God of death… Are you okay?”

Harry shrugs. “He’s just doing his job.”

You cover your face with your hands, beyond amused by his nonchalance. You don’t see it, but Harry might take more joy out of the situation than you. His eyes sparkle with adoration as he watches you laugh, and he wishes he knew how to control time just to stay in this moment forever. There was something so extraordinary about your happiness having been caused by him. He was fascinated with how much he wished he could do it every day for the rest of his life.

He hadn’t known if opening up about himself was the smartest ideas, but he would give her his social security number if it made her laugh like that.

You took your hands off your face and looked at him, the sudden urge to kiss him being almost unbearable. Almost. You sighed, not knowing how to express these feelings you had towards him, so instead you opted for a simple comment.

“I’m so glad you’re my neighbor.”

Harry smirks. “I’m glad you’re my neighbor too.”

[padfootagain]

Only an Almost (XX)

Chapter 20: Toothaches

Hi! Here is the very last chapter of this series!

Thank you all for reading, and for your reactions to this fic. I won’t lie, I’m very emotional as I say goodbye to this fic. I’ve worked on it for several months, it feels strange to let these two idiots go and live their happy lives now.

The next series I’ll post is my professor!AU, so stay tuned ;)

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 2054

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Two years later

You placed back the panel into the hive; gently, delicately, being careful not to harm any insect that might have gotten in the way.

The buzzing sounds around you were loud, but you were used to them by now. Accompanying Andrew once a week to take care of his bees, you had grown more confident around his tiny friends. You were a real pro now. A reassuring thought for him, now that he was about to tour again. He could place their safety in your loving hands.

“Alright, that was the last one,” Andrew spoke, a happy smile on his lips.

“Good job, ladies,” you complimented the bees, making Andrew chuckle fondly at you.

“Good job indeed. And to you, too. Good job, love.”

“Thanks! I am getting good at this!”

Andrew closed the hive, and you both made your way back to your house.

Your house. Andrew still struggled to wrap his mind around the idea that you were sharing a home now, but you did. Even after ten months, he still needed to pinch himself sometimes to believe it.

He helped you out of your beekeeping clothes, and you did the same for him. Teamwork at its finest to repeat movements you were both used to by now.

“You won’t be nervous to take care of the bees alone?” Andrew asked you, voice soft and tender as he brushed a strand of your hair out of your face.

“No, don’t worry! Besides, if I need help, I’ll just call the guys at the brewery!”

“Right. Don’t hesitate to call them if you need help.”

“Don’t worry, baby… I’ll be just fine.”

He nodded, his heart doing its usual little jump at the sound of the pet name. He bent down to drop a peck on the top of your head.

“Let’s eat some of this delicious honey our tiny workers have been making!” he offered, and you enthusiastically nodded, following him through the house and inside the kitchen.

The house had changed quite a bit since you had moved in. Asides from accommodating your belongings, it had gained a few plants, some decorating items, a little bit of your warmth that mingled with his own.

Outside the sun was shining brightly, spreading its beams through the kitchen, while Andrew was cutting some fruits and you were making coffee. You kissed his lips to steal a piece of apple, making him laugh at the mischief shining in your eyes.

“Thief,” he mumbled, still a little stunned after feeling your lips on his.

You merely giggled in response, the sound as sweet as the honey he was adding to the two bowls of fresh fruits.

“I love you too, baby,” you cooed, wrapping your arms around his waist to pull him closer, mischief written all over your features.

“You’re annoying.”

“Don’t I know that already.”

“Unbelievable, that’s what you are…”

“Hmm… Don’t I know that too…”

Slowly, Andrew bent closer and closer to your lips. A fall he longed for, a dive he dreamt about still.

“Insufferable…” he mumbled against your lips, before kissing you properly, hands rising to hold your face in place, to let his fingers disappear into your hair and his thumbs spray across your cheeks.

You tasted so sweet; like the apple you had stolen, like love turned into a flavour.

“Christ… I love you so fucking much,” he whispered as he rested his forehead against yours.

He brushed his knuckles across your cheekbone, gesture infinitely sweet, desperately tender.

You ran your fingers through his hair, and he couldn’t help but lean into your touch.

“I love you too, Andy,” you whispered, your breath fanning over his face. “I love you more than anything.”

He bent lower to wrap you in his embrace, to bury his face into your neck. He inhaled deeply your perfume, until the scent was carved into his lungs. He closed his eyes, shivered as your hand slowly moved from his hair to his chest, to rest right upon his heart.

“I’m going to miss you,” he whispered into your skin.

He listened to the little gasp you let out, he wasn’t certain whether it was because of his breath across your neck or the meaning of his words.

“I’ll miss you too. God… it feels like I miss you already.”

You pulled away, after granting him another minute of the intimate embrace. You turned to the table, grabbed a bowl and a spoon, took a bite. You hummed in satisfaction.

“Our honey really is the best in the world,” you nodded, making him laugh.

“Our honey? These are my hives. That my family gifted to me…”

“We both take care of the bees! It gives me some rights on them!”

“Some rights?”

“I get 51% of the honey.”

“So… the majority of it. Even if those are my hives…”

“Because you love me.”

“Oh, I see,” he couldn’t refrain a loud laugh.

“I’m sleeping with you for two reasons: the honey, and Raine.”

“I knew it. I knew you were using me for something.”

“Of course, I’m heartless.”

“Can’t blame you though… the honey is delicious,” he added a hum of approval, as if to prove his point, while he took another bite of grapes, apples and honey.

You finished eating in silence. It was comfortable, comforting even. Warm and happy and full of love. You sat down after a couple of minutes, and your feet were touching under the table, a mingling of limbs just to make sure that you were always touching.

It was simple, domestic. Andrew caught himself staring at you, at the way the sun embraced your features and got caught in your eyelashes, pearling on their curve.

There was a deep, warm feeling bubbling in his chest, the kind he had felt before, for other women. But never to this extent, never reaching this absolute tenderness that was coursing through his veins as he looked at you. You, sharing a simple snack with him, in his kitchen. You weren’t leaving, you were home. You were his home and he was yours.

As he stared at you nipping on a grape, he was more content with his life than he had ever been.

You started humming, the melody of a song you had heard on the radio that morning, he couldn’t remember the title nor the lyrics. Still, he hummed along, and the sound seemed to make you grin.

“On a scale of ‘being happy to finally be rid of me’ to ‘on the verge of total panic’… how are you feeling about me leaving for tour tomorrow?” Andrew asked softly, his voice almost a whisper, afraid to break the warmth of the moment you were sharing together.

You blinked at him, put down your spoon in your bowl, and reached out across the table for his hand. He held it without a second thought, brushing his thumb across your knuckles.

“I’d say… a strong 5. ‘Sad that you’re leaving, but certain that we’ll make it work’.”

You offered him a reassuring smile, and he let out a long exhale.

“Are you angry against me for leaving?” he asked, but you were quick to shake your head.

“Of course not… that’s your job. And you were meant to be a musician, there is no doubt about it. I’m glad you’re doing what you love… I’ll just miss you.”

“You’ll wait for me, right?” he asked, voice quiet and vulnerable. He brushed his hair away from his face in a hurried and nervous gesture.

But you were calm, perfectly confident and serene as you answered.

“Of course. There is no need to ask that question. We’ve talked about this, we have a plan. We’ll be fine.”

The plan…

A call every day, no matter the time difference. A flight to join him in four weeks, a flight to join you again in nine. Texts whenever you woke up and before going to sleep. Updates on your books. No secrets, no lies, no attempts to hide if something didn’t feel right. And then it would start all over again after his two-weeks break, in eleven weeks. And again, and again, an unbreakable cycle for the foreseeable future. It was alright. Andrew knew he would still love you the same, even from the other side of the globe. But that was the breaking point for all his previous relationships, the distance and the missing and the loneliness that came with him.

And yet, when you tightened your hold on his hand and he focused on your eyes again, there was no trace of hesitation or doubt whatsoever there.

“You didn’t want to date me because of this, at the beginning…” he went on, but you shrugged.

“It was two years ago. I was afraid. I’m not scared anymore.”

“Really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

“No… I’m happy with you. I love you. I know we can do this. I have no doubt about us.”

His lips parted in a somehow shocked smile, and he had to blink to process your words.

“I have no doubt about my love for you either,” Andrew answered. “You’re right, I shouldn’t worry so much.”

You looked down at the bowl before you, it was almost empty already.

“I will burn your collection of Heaney’s books if you miss more than three phone calls, you are warned,” you joked, making him laugh again.

“How cruel! Leave Seamus out of it! He did nothing to you!”

“I don’t have a choice, I know you love him more than me!”

You were laughing, clearly joking, and yet Andrew’s expression softened.

“Now, that would be impossible. I couldn’t love anyone or anything more than I love you.”

You stared at him with an emotional smile on your lips, knowing that he was being serious, that he truly meant it… and he did. The songs he had written for you were proof. He hoped that the things he did for you every day were enough to demonstrate his feelings too.

He was surprised when you stood up, when you circled the table to stand by his side, waiting until he had pushed his chair so you could straddle his laps. You held him tightly against you, arms around his neck and face buried in his hair. He held you with the same affection, the same desperate need to show you how much he loved you.

“You don’t have to worry, Andy. I’ll wait for you,” you whispered in his ear, making his heart stumble and quicken at the same time, his breath catching in his throat. “You’re the love of my life. I want to spend all the time I have left with you.”

Andrew blinked, tightened his hold on you, tried to take in your words and their meaning and what it meant to have you confessing such feelings for him.

You pulled away as he started laughing, still sitting on his laps but frowning at his reaction.

When he looked at you, he wasn’t hiding the adoration he felt for you.

“And I was afraid I was being too cheesy…” he chuckled, making you roll your eyes.

“Eejit…” you mumbled, a fond smile on your lips still.

“I thought I was the one breaking the crazy love confessions quota in this relationship…”

“Don’t make me regret saying it!” you joked, moving closer again.

He brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, putting all of his love in his gaze and his gesture.

“I feel the same, you know?” he grew more serious again. “You’re the one for me. It was always you, my love.”

You smiled just like he did, a mirror of emotions and love and something close to relief. You rested your forehead against his, closed your eyes.

Andrew thought about the break he would have in nine weeks, about coming home to you. He thought about the next leg of touring, and the break that would follow. And he thought about coming home to you with a ring in his suitcase, and he thought about you in a white dress, about waking up with you every day, going to sleep with your hand in his every night…

When he kissed your lips again, they tasted sweet, like the future they promised.

[sevsdollette]

taking care of Sevika after she comes home from work

this is part one. never realized tumblr had a character limit until I was 6000 characters over the limit @-@. part two is the one with the smut, if that's what you're looking for. (it will be up right away)

poor baby sev has a really tough job :( angst fluff and smut i guess?? sevika’s angry then you take care of her and then she fingers you ig that takes into account all three.

warning for blood, injuries, implications of violence. also contains smoking, fingering (r-receiving), making out (in part 2)

MDNI and men go away

it was late, but not any later than usual for Sevika. you sat on the couch of your humble Zaun apartment, fiddling with a cigarette as you watched the mechanical clock on your wall tick away.

there had been nights before when she didn’t come home at all. it had been a while since then and it was all because of some big disaster writhing the shimmer trade but still. you worried.

eventually, she did come home. you could hear heavy footsteps out in the hall and watched as the front door clicked open. you stood up from the couch as she opened the door, and your jaw dropped at the sight of her.

she was in one piece, but that piece was shoddily taped together and ready to fall apart. there was a large bandage over her cheekbone already soaked with blood. she almost seemed to walk with a limp and her brow was cut on one side.

“Sevika, what—“

she held up a hand. “don’t start. please don’t start.”

you froze, pursing your lips and trying to find some words she would accept. she was stubborn and a bitch in the best of times. on these nights, sometimes you couldn’t stand her.

she walked into the apartment, kicking off her boots and unclipping her cloak to rest on the kitchen counter. her metal arm was intact but there was one small stain of blood she forgot to clean off of it.

you could just see the tiredness behind her eyes as she hardly glanced at you before walking into the bedroom. a minute later, the shower turned on.

to get through a night like this, actions spoke louder than words, so you followed after her. as you got into the bathroom, she was already undressing and didn’t turn around to look at you. silently, you took your own clothes off.

you placed a soft hand on her shoulder and she turned her head back to meet your eyes. her brow was thick with thought. “what?”

“are you okay?”

she clenched her jaw and exhaled, turning back around.

you bit back every nasty thing you could say to her. you had to remind yourself that she probably had a day far worse than you could imagine and you just had to give her space.

she still let you come into the shower with her. her shoulders slightly eased as you took out her hair and smoothed your hands down her back. you placed a kiss right between her shoulder blades.

you waited as she let the water rinse her off, examining all of her to assess the damage. her cheek, her eyebrow, and her leg seemed to be the problem. there was a nasty cut through her calf, almost threatening her shin, which she had messily bandaged. it was getting wet and ruined, too.

even in these tense moments, you loved to look at her and adore every inch. she was so beautiful and strong for you. over each curve of muscle and dip of bone, you had surely once kissed her and you savored that. that was why her coming home late scared you so much. you couldn’t ever lose her.

she turned around and looked down at you, moving out of the way so you could get under the water and use the soap. her mind was focused elsewhere, staring through the shower curtain to some place in her mind.

you reached out and gently touched the edge of the bandage on her cheek. her nose wrinkled and she almost pulled back. but then she let you examine it. it was useless at this point: fully soaked with blood and old. you began to peel it off.

“i’ll put a new one on when we get out,” you assured, leaning out of the shower to throw the bandage away. as you did so, her hands held you over the curve of your hips. she kept you close.

when you leaned back in, she wrapped her arms around you, placing a kiss on your cheek before hiding her face in your neck. the water hit your back as she hugged you. the pads of her fingers pressed into your skin and she breathed you in. you ran your nails through her hail, massaging out her scalp as she relaxed into you.

she wasn’t crying and she wouldn’t, but this was as close as she got.

you had no idea how long the two of you stayed there, but at some point she lifted her head and pulled you into a kiss. it was hungrier than you expected, reeling you in as her hands drifted to hold you.

then she was done. probably caught by another upsetting thought that put her out of the mood. she pulled away and a few seconds later she was getting out of the shower.

as you got out too, you said, “dry off and go sit down. i’ll change your bandages.”

she nodded and perhaps muttered a thanks. you tired your hair up while she disappeared into the bedroom.

tag list (um it's small bc i don't know how this works. please tell me if you want me to add you or take you off):

@archangeldyke-all @cacston @sevsarm @sevsbaby

[ivegotyourbackbuddie]

Being in the Diaz home without Chris around is… weird.

Really there are hundreds of different words that Buck could use to explain the absence, but weird is what fits best at the moment.

It’s not like he and Eddie haven’t hung out alone in the house while Christopher had been at school or a friend’s house. But knowing that Chris is states away with no confirmed return date… it’s weird.

They haven’t really spoken about it much - avoiding Eddie’s house, wordlessly going to Buck’s equally empty apartment that nonetheless contains less of Chris’s essence.

Of course, it’s still there. They avoid the gaming system, the drawer filled with Chris’s clothes, the bin full of Lego’s…

But at Eddie’s, it’s not like they can just… avoid the whole house.

Which is why Buck was surprised to get a message from Eddie reading Come over? Which Buck had replied omw while racing to get his shoes on.

He had let himself in with his key, calling out for Eddie only to get no response which set off all the alarm bells in Buck’s head. He forced himself to stay calm, trying not to think of the time he had rushed over there only to find a scared Chris outside a room Eddie had taken apart piece by piece as if trying to represent the brokenness he felt within.

“Eddie?” Buck calls out again, trying to ignore the way his voice wavers as he paces through the house opening the door to Eddie’s room and finding it all in one piece. He sighs in relief but tenses again when he still doesn’t see Eddie. But then it hits him exactly where he is.

He slowly walks down the hall, hesitating and listening in at Chris’s door but not hearing anything before opening it.

He spots Eddie quickly, sitting on a chair next to Chris’s bed. It reminds him of the times when Eddie used to read him stories before bed, voice taking pitches Buck had never heard before all to make a giggling Christopher shriek with loud laughter.

The silence in the room hangs almost as heavily as Eddie’s head in his hands.

“Eddie,” Buck says softly as he walks up to him slowly as if approaching a wild animal, knowing he needs the time to adjust to his presence in the room.

Eddie glances up at him, eyes red-rimmed and wet, but Buck can see that he isn’t one breath away from fully breaking like he has been before. “Hey, Buck,” he replies wetly.

Buck kneels in front of the chair, opening his arms to Eddie who drops his weight into them, squeezing around his shoulders as if he were Chris. “I miss him,” Eddie whispers.

“I do, too,” Buck says, allowing a few tears to slip from his own eyes as he glances at the empty bed. He lets Eddie take as long as he needs in the hug, ignoring the ache in his knees that’s not even comparable to the ache in his chest.

Eventually, Eddie loosens his embrace and moves back, wiping his eyes and chuckling as if it’s the only thing keeping him from crying more. “Let’s get some beers, yeah?” Eddie asks, standing up, and offering a hand to Buck who gladly takes it.

They silently make their way to the kitchen, Buck watching Eddie carefully, trying to anticipate if he needs to talk or be distracted when Eddie’s phone lights up and plays the honking text tone alert.

They both freeze, knowing it’s Chris’s text tone which always made him laugh especially when he would text his dad while in the same room as him. Eddie would always play along with the bit asking, “I wonder who this could be.” While Chris would simultaneously laugh and groan, “Dad.”

Eddie grabs the phone off the counter with shaky hands and reads the message multiple times as if he can’t quite believe what it says. But Buck waits patiently, although all he wants to do is rush over and read it over his shoulder or even snatch the phone out of his hands.

But before he can do anything too impulsive, Eddie glances up with a mixture of shock, relief, and panic when he says, “Chris says he misses me and wants me to come to El Paso.”

Buck smiles but sees that Eddie isn’t doing the same. “That’s a good thing, right?”

Eddie shakes his head and shrugs, internally spiraling a bit. “I don’t know. Yes, it’s good that he misses me. But he didn’t say he wants to come back or he wants me to just briefly visit then come back or how long he wants me there. For all I know, this could be a trial run to see if he ever wants to come back here.” Eddie puts down the phone and wipes his hands over his face. He sighs and drops his hands, expression changing from confused to determined yet still mildly panicked. “I have to call Bobby. But I don’t know if he’ll let me take a temporary leave without doing paperwork that all needs to be approved, but I need to go now.”

Buck makes his way around the counter and puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, thumb resting in the dip of his collarbone, mirroring the same stance Eddie uses that always calms Buck down. “I’ll call Bobby, okay? He knows the situation, and he’s more than reasonable when it comes to family. You start packing and looking for tickets for the soonest flight.”

Eddie's shoulders relax as he nods. “Right.” He steps away from Buck as he makes his way to his room, but he pauses and turns around quickly. “Buck?”

Buck hums in response.

“Thank you,” Eddie states, eyes firmly on Buck’s filled with an abundance of gratitude.

“Of course,” Buck replies with a small smile, hoping Eddie is too distracted to read the love written all over his face. And he must be since Eddie takes off soon after.

Buck lets out a calming breath as he processes everything and tries not to get ahead of himself with joy that Chris might be coming back.

A quick phone call later, Buck is once again trying to think of how he can ever repay Bobby for the endless understanding and love he has for the team. He makes his way into Eddie’s room and fills him in on the situation with Bobby currently making a new schedule - already knowing several people who have been asking for overtime and others begging for a chance to work at the 118. Buck can see Eddie going through the same emotions as he did moments before, but they remain for a few seconds longer when he approaches Buck and hugs him tightly, thanking him again.

Buck just holds him and asks, “Have you found a flight?”

Eddie nods, pulling away to hold up his phone. There’s already a confirmation email for the ticket he bought. “There’s a flight that leaves tonight in a few hours.”

“Let me drive you to the airport then,” Buck says, with no room for argument. Eddie only fixes him with a look that has Buck preparing for another hug, but Eddie shakes his head a little and looks down as if telling himself he can’t ask for more.

Buck doesn’t comment on it, but he does check through Eddie’s bag, making sure he didn’t miss anything in his rush, only for Eddie to shove his shoulder against his and say, “If I forgot anything, I’ll just buy a duplicate.”

Buck glances at Eddie's nightstand and grabs his charger, handing it over. “I know you say that, but I also know how much you hate duplicates of anything other than clothes.”

“And ‘Best Dad Ever’ mugs.”

“And those,” Buck says with a fond eye roll, remembering all the times Eddie has insisted that he doesn’t need any more mugs, only to immediately change his tune when Chris holds up a dad mug. “Come on, you don’t want to miss your extremely convenient flight.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh in response but doesn’t disagree.

The drive to the airport is quicker than Buck expected, and when they get there, Buck finds himself parking instead of merely dropping Eddie off. But Eddie doesn’t comment on it. Honestly, it’s as if he was expecting it.

They walk at a leisurely pace, now that they both know that unless something goes horribly wrong, Eddie won’t miss his flight.

“You have your ID and your phone is charged enough to display your ticket?” Buck asks.

Eddie smiles and knocks his shoulder against his. “As I’ve already said three times, yes to both.”

Buck nods, but he feels an overwhelming sense of dread fill his gut. Then, it suddenly hits him that the last time he dropped off someone at the airport was… Abby. And with the departure gates right in front of him, Buck can almost picture that moment when she walked away, and the tiniest voice had told him that it was already over and she was never coming back. It seems to be a tragic theme in his life.

“Hey,” Eddie says firmly, taking him out of the memory. “You okay?”

Buck just nods at him, pasting a small smile on his face. “I just wish I could see Chris, too.”

He knows that Eddie can see that it’s something else chewing him up inside, but they both don’t comment on it.

“Well, thank you again,” Eddie says, lingering in Buck’s space.

Buck hugs him, knowing Eddie isn’t going to take the initiative again. “You know you’d do the same thing for me.”

“Yeah, with a lot more complaining,” Eddie jokes startling a laugh out of Buck.

They both pull away after lingering for a few seconds longer than many friends would. They stare at each other, searching each other’s gaze for something that they’re not able to find - call it stubbornness or obliviousness, but love is there loud and clear to anyone else who merely glances at them.

“I’ll be back soon, and I’ll be giving you play-by-plays of everything,” Eddie reassures him.

Buck just nods, remembering Abby’s promise to call and text every day until those eventually dwindled down to nothing on her side.

“Bye, Eddie.”

“Bye, Buck,” Eddie says with a soft look, turning to leave.

Buck stays and watches, debating if he has the strength to turn and walk away even when he’s out of sight. But to his surprise, Eddie gets through the doors and glances back.

Abby never glanced back.

Then, Eddie rushes back, apologizing to a woman he nearly runs over in the process but continuing on his way back to the doors. “Come with me!” He nearly yells, attracting multiple people’s attention, but Buck doesn’t notice - too distracted trying to process what he has just said.

“Come with me,” Eddie says again, much closer this time. “I know it’s last minute. And you don’t have your bags or anything, and I don’t know if there’s even another ticket left on this flight. But please. Christopher loves you so much, and he would love to see you.”

Buck shakes his head, smiling in disbelief, “Eddie, I can’t just ask Bobby to take us both off the schedule for an indefinite amount of time.”

“He’s done it before! We’re always getting injured together. What’s a few days off going to do?”

Buck smiles and steps in closer. “Eddie, you’re going to be fine. You can do all of this without me there.”

“I know I can, Buck. But I want you there. Don’t you see?” Eddie asks and steps closer, “I want you by my side while I deal with my parents and this whole situation. Even without all of this I would want you to bet there.” And pauses to take a deep breath and fix Buck with a look that pierces deeply. “And I don’t want you to think I’m leaving you. I would never do that. I could be gone for years, and I would never stop thinking about you and messaging you. I could never just forget you. I’m always going to come back for you. No matter the time or the distance.”

Buck’s heart hammers in his chest at the confession that chips away at every insecurity he felt when Abby had left. All the things the tiny voice would say are being directly challenged by everything Eddie says. But this time… Buck realizes the voice wasn’t even there to begin with. Sure, the memory of the voice is loud and clear but… when it’s Eddie? Nothing.

All those years ago, he would’ve gone with Abby in a heartbeat. He would’ve abandoned everything to stay with her and try to make her happy. But now…

Now he knows what it’s like to be truly loved. And to trust the person he loves to come back to him.

So Buck just grabs Eddie’s hand and whispers, “I love you. And that’s why I’m telling you that you can do this on your own. Because I’m going to be here the whole time, waiting for you to come back and making sure everything is okay while you’re away. We’ve already basically built a life here together, and I’m not going to ever risk throwing that away. Plus, I think Bobby would kill us both if we suddenly decided to run away and take Christopher wherever he wants because we both know that’s what would happen if we went together.”

Eddie smiles and laughs, eyes a bit misty as he nods. “Maddie would kill me if I took you away from her.”

Buck smiles softly. “I think she would try, but ultimately she’d be happy for us.”

Eddie nods in agreement but his expression changes from fond amusement to steadfast fondness. He pauses before saying, “I love you, too, you know.”

“I know. Especially after that confession. Really dramatic of you, Diaz.”

“Like you can say anything, Evan,” Eddie laughs.

And Buck can’t help but notice the way that his name falls off his lips, always in a way that screams love but he never noticed before. He shakes his head and laughs, “How long have we been in love with each other but too dumb to realize it?”

Eddie shakes his head and says, “I don’t know. I think I loved you a bit ever since you were an asshole to me and tried to call yourself my elder.”

Buck laughs loudly before sincerely saying, “I think I loved you the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “I think you felt that way more about Chris than about me.”

“Maybe.” And yeah, that’s probably one hundred percent true. Buck gets a sudden idea that has him frowning and tilting his head. “Hey, how much longer do we have to stay idiots who haven’t kissed even after we confessed our love for each other?”

Eddie laughs and shakes his head, turning away to say, “Dios, Buck. I’m not going to let our first kiss be outside an airport. That’s a little dramatic even for us. I’d much rather it be in my kitchen when I bring Christopher back to us.”

Buck steps closer and tilts his head down. “How about we make that our second kiss?”

Eddie bites the corner of his lip and glances around before saying, “Fuck it,” pulling Buck in right then and kissing him chastely before pulling back. “And don’t ask to do that again because I don’t want Athena to arrest us for public indecency.”

“And you say I’m the dramatic one,” Buck laughs, trying not to pull Eddie in for another kiss.

“Because you are,” Eddie says, backing away. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah,” Buck replies, knowing that no matter how long Eddie is gone, soon will never be soon enough. But that’s okay. Because he knows he’ll always have his back. And that’s more than enough for him.

[cowboypigz]

HIII OMG IM YOUR BIGGEST FAN!! headcanons for malleus x female reader who is alternative and likes DIYing and going to shows!

malleus w/ an alternative!female reader * . -

OK RIGHT SO FIRST OF ALL i think malleus would be really interested in alternative fashion once he finds out you're into it.

the guy alr looks alternative so.

he'd accompany you to try on clothes to help you find your style and even offer you advice on what he thinks works and what doesn't

i can see you subjecting him to a makeshift fashion show at ramshackle where you model all your outfits and he kind of just stares and nods in approval.

like listen, he isn't especially good with words but i think he'd always try to support you no matter what.

"right, okay - so what about this one?' "you look lovely." malleus replied with a rare smile. he seriously meant it - you looked great. "malleus, you've said that about all the other ones i tried on." you folded your arms, spinning around for malleus to get a better look at the outfit. "those looked great too," he said, tapping his hand against his thigh as he kept that same smile on his face. "i liked them all, actually." "malleus.."

as for your diy hobby, i think he'd be supportive as well!!

though he'd probably question you on why you'd DIY something like that when you could just buy it yourself.

(rich kid problems..)

and when you explained the reason you did so - explaining you just like making your own clothes - he never asked again after that.

in fact, i think he'd gain a better understanding of your hobby and try his best to like bring you little trinkets that'll help spice up your already limited arsenal of sewing tools.

it'd start off small with new little pincushions that he thought you'd like till it gets to the point you wake up one day and there's a brand new sewing machine from malleus on your bedside table that lilia delivered overnight.

i also think he'd love to stand off to the side while you work and hold stuff for you so your space isn't too cluttered and overwhelm you.

"would you hold this for a second, mal?" you muttered, eyebrows knitted in concentration as you held out a random piece of fabric for the man to take. malleus hummed in agreement, taking the fabric from you and holding it in his already full hands. "what're you making this time..?" he asked, inching a bit closer as he leaned down to look over your shoulder. "just touchin' up my battle vest," you replied without breaking concentration. "...is it always this easy for you to do this?" he asked, peering to get a better look. "it gets easier over time," you murmured, turning to look at the tall man behind you. "why?" "i..wanted to learn a bit more about it."

in all honesty, i dont think malleus is a stranger to going to shows at all.

lilia has definitely dragged him out of the house to accompany him so he wouldn't spend all day bed rotting.

the experience was..well, he didn't hate it.

i think he was just a bit confused on what he was supposed to do and he didn't even know who was playing so that didn't help his experience.

i think you introduced him to a band you're really into and he warmed up to it, he'd be wayyy more inclined to go.

like i mean obv he'd still go even if he didn't know the band but still!!

it'd be more fun if you two were mutually bonding over something together.

The only downside of going to shows is the loud sounds - that'd likely turn him off.

"can you see now, (nickname)?" malleus asked, he was currently holding you up in his arms so you'd get a better glimpse of the concert stage. "i can see them - i think..!" you replied, heart swelling with excitement. malleus felt a smile creep onto his face as you gushed about the band and how much more you could see. he figured he'd be more comfortable if he was floating however, the feeling of having you in his arms proved to be a bit too much for him judging by his heart pounding in his ears. "malleus - hey, are you listening?" "hmm..?" he asked, meeting your eye reluctantly. "oh..sorry - my arms were going limp for a moment."

overall, he'd LOVE your freaking alternative fashion so much.

i think he'd even get hyper-fixated on the story behind the alternative/punk movements too.

like you'd be randomly talking and he'd drop a fact he learned about the movement a week ago out of nowhere.

great boyfriend, great attitude and much support!!

[miracles-and-butterflies]

For @zuuz-dot-chr-exe, based on the prompt: “Isabela trying to convince Dolores to have a streak of her hair dyied.”

A short one shot of Isabela and Dolores bonding while Isa tries to convince her prima-hermana to let her dye a single strand of hair. Or Isabela might not like showing it but sometimes she still needs reassurance from her family that being imperfect is okay.

Something Unexpected

“No, Isabela.”

It wasn't the first time she heard it and she was sure it wouldn’t be the last.

Ever since she got her gift back, Isabela had been no stranger to dyeing anything she could get her hands on. From her hair to her dress to her furniture to even her own skin, she would stain in any colour - splattered, several at once or mix up something new. She wasn’t picky. If anything, she liked the mash of colour.

Subsequently, this also meant her family had to adjust to this change too. For the most part, they were on board and very supportive. Many of them would happily join in or offer themselves as victims test subjects. The only real disapproval would come from her mother when she made a mess and refused to clean it, and when she stained a new piece of clothing in front of Mirabel. The nagging over the kitchen and whining of wasted thread aside, Isabela was much happier than she ever remembers being.

She frequently found herself adding dyed strands to the hair of Luisa, Camilo and Antonio. That was where you could find the four Madrigal kids on Sunday morning like today. Not that she is complaining about the arrangement, but… it would be nice to do someone else’s hair. And her one target didn’t seem to have any other response. No matter how she approached the offer.

“Please, Dolores!” Antonio tried, tugging at his sister’s sleeve with hopeful eyes. “It doesn’t hurt or anything, I promise. You’ll look so pretty with your hair done!”

Dolores barely lifted her eyes from her tiple, continuing to strum the tune she was learning.

“Come on, we’re all doing it, sis. Just have Bela put some yellow in.” Camilo kicked his foot at her chair. Unlike Antonio’s flattery and begging, his go-to strategy was always to annoy his sister into doing something. Which got pretty similar results. She didn’t move and instead Casita pushed him aside. “Casita, that’s not fair! It’s not my fault! Dolores is ruining the whole afternoon!”

“Why are you all getting on my case about this? Mirabel isn’t joining in either.” Dolores squeaked.

“Don’t spin this on me,” Mirabel snapped, stopping her embroidery to look up at her accuser. “You know full well I’m allergic.”

“You’re allergic to tree pollen, not flowers, you’re fine!”

Mirabel brushed her forehead curl back, revealing an irritated red patch, a rash from some test Isabela had done. She shot Dolores a challenging look, “Then explain the existence of the allergic reaction I’ve had, Lola.” Dolores rolled her eyes, turning away. Mirabel set her hair back, sighing to herself as she picked up her needle, “Dios, dame fuerzas. Tener la razón todo el tiempo es agotador.”

“I can hear you, you know,” Dolores whispered over.

“Good.” Mirabel hummed.

Luisa, who was sat on Mirabel’s other side, dropped an arm around her sister. “I can’t believe you’d throw this all on her. She is a child and she has a reason to not participate, what the hell is your excuse anyways? Let me guess: the pollen is too loud?” She asked, teasing.

“Oh, you are so funny, Luisa.” She deadpanned.

“One strand of hair, Dolores, that’s all I’m asking,” Isabela piped up, waving the red flower around dramatically. “Come on, I’m your best friend! Your sister-like figure—”

“Do not give me that song and dance again. You did it twice yesterday and I still have a headache.”

“Okay, fine… But, you know, as the eldest grandchild, I’m technically the one in charge, so what I say goes and I say—”

“It’s not going to happen, Isabela.”

Isabela groaned, “Please!? I will literally pay you!”

“There isn’t enough money in Colombia for that.” Dolores countered.

Seemingly giving up, Isabela collapsed back into the chair behind her. Luisa chuckled a bit but didn’t say anything more, happy enough to let this go too. Antonio pouted while Camilo huffed, getting onto his feet he offered his hand to the younger boy.

“Come on, Toñito, let’s go show Mamí and Papa how great our hair looks.” He suggested.

As the two boys ran off in a flurry of multicoloured powder, Dolores contented herself in the relative silence of the room. With a smirk to herself, she returned her focus back on to the instrument in hand. She barely got through the first chord before:

“Okay, your brothers are gone now. It’s just us. You can let me dye your hair now.”

“No.”

“What?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please!?”

“No.”

“Pretty please!?”

“No.”

“Bitch,” Isabela spat, slumping over onto the floor.

“Language.” Mirabel said, sing-song.

Luisa was giggling to herself at this point, clearly very entertained by both Isabela and Dolores’ ongoing argument. Even more so now that Mirabel had decided to try mediate the situation or at the very least Isabela’s swearing.

Dolores decided to simply ignore her three cousins, just focus on the song she had yet to finish because of all the interruptions and distractions in this room.

Honestly, she should have picked somewhere else to settle down with her tiple. It has crossed her mind an hour ago but she didn’t think too much of it. After all, they were her family. Her own brothers and cousins, and she did like being in their company. Even if she was just a silent spectator to the chaos of gremlins and Mirabel’s latest embroidery project.

When Isabela brought out the flowers and the boys began bouncing off the walls in hyper excitement and anticipation, she had her cue to leave. That would have been the chance to avoid all of this. Casita even nudged her foot to let her know. And yet… she still didn’t move. She remained in her seat, happily making her way through the chord progressions, enjoying the background noise of the chaos in the room.

“Oh, shut up!” Isabela flung back at her sister. “How would you feel if Luisa turned around and refused to wear your embroidery?”

“I wouldn’t blame her. It is her decision what she wants to wear and my embroidery is a disgrace.”

The laughter stopped very quickly.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!” Luisa exclaimed. “What did Mama tell you about demeaning yourself and your skills, hermanita?”

Mirabel clicked her tongue, just managing to stop herself from rolling her eyes. This wasn’t her first time doing this. She realised where this was going and stopped her work at a sensible place. “Not to do it, even in jest.”

“Exactly,” Luisa nodded. She heaved herself up onto her feet, scooping Mirabel up into her arms and headed for the exit. “Now, we’re gonna go into a quiet space upstairs, hug and discuss why you felt the need to say that, like the responsible and open Madrigal we are. Just know, I am not disappointed in you, just a little concerned at where such bullshit came from!”

“Language.”

“Yep, sorry, Mira. I realised as soon as I said it.”

Her footsteps disappeared up the stairs, leaving the room once again in silence. Quieter than before. Quieter than when she first entered the room.

It wasn’t the same kind of silence. It was the same silence she remembers on the first night after Casita’s collapse, almost a year ago to the day. Uncomfortable, to put it lightly. Different types of discomfort, of course, but somehow still the same. They weren’t pleasant to sit through and it ruined the melody every time she tried to play.

She set the tiple down in the empty spot beside her. Glancing over at Isabela, who had since slumped all the way down to the floor, flickering various petals and leaves into the air from her fingers.

“You don’t really think I don’t support you, do you?”

The petals unceremoniously dropped. Isabela sat up abruptly, coughing them out.

“What?” She asked.

“What you asked Mirabel,” Dolores clarified. “You implied that me not letting you dye my hair was the equivalent to Luisa turning down the embroidery Mirabel spends hours working on. I know you were exaggerating but the point remains; I’m asking if you think that I don’t care or support you.”

Isabela didn’t say anything, still unusually quiet. But the silence was enough of an indicator for Dolores.

As much as Isabela has grown to perfect herself and was a flawless actress, who had the entire town believing every smile was as real as life itself, Dolores had become incredibly sharp at reading people. Hearing everything gave her knowledge which was always an advantage in that process, but after so many years, it pretty much became second nature. So, even though Isabela had everyone else believing what she wanted, she never had and never will have Dolores.

Dolores stepped down, kneeling on the floor beside her cousin, taking her hand. Isabela raised an eyebrow at this.

“Isabela, I do care about you. I’m happy that you get to be yourself and, even though some of your actions are very stupid and downright dangerous, I do support you. I might not always say it or show it, but I do.” She insisted, offering a smile. “Okay?”

Isabela returned the smile, meeting her eyes. “So… can I dye your hair?”

Jesus fucking Christ—

“Fine,” she relented, covering Isabela’s mouth before she could start screaming in excitement. “But this stays between us, Isa. I don’t want my brothers knowing that I can change my mind, I’ll lose my power over them.”

“Whatever you want, Lola.”

[softichill]

I finally got some clothes I've wanted for years and I am so fucking cute and cool you WISH you were me

[good-beansdraws]

Massive Milgramsona art/info dump as a treat to myself!! Alas, my fatal flaw is being unable to shut up about anything even while simultaneously embarrassed/nervous to share, so here's literally all the info I have on her 😅

Profile:

Name: For the sake of posting online I’ll call her Rose!

Number: 012

Color: #E7355B

Age: She’d be 20 when Milgram started

Status: Milgram Staff, Machine Technician

Song genre: Pop/theater (a mix of Mahiru and Kazui's vibes)

Backstory: She is studying abroad in Japan to work on technology related to the mv machine when she stumbles into top secret info about the trials. Horrified at the lack of prior testing, she demands to be included in the experiment to make sure the brand new tech runs smoothly and doesn't harm anyone in the process. To prevent her leaking info to the public and deciding an extra participant wouldn't hurt, Milgram agrees.

Role: Rose performs routine maintenance and updates on the extraction machine, and checks in with prisoners' health to make sure it's not having any adverse effects. She listens in on the interrogations, ringing the bell to signal Es when the machine is ready for use (re: my theory on how it works >:3). She then watches the mvs after Es to make sure there are no glitches.

(Though she is a personal milgramsona, her role in the story is supposed to reflect the audience's experience overall when it comes to how much info we know, emotions we experiencing regarding guilt/responsibility, and how much power over events we actually have given the voting system and trial breaks.)

Trial 1

Jackalope's comments during trial commencement: Oh, I almost forgot participant 012, Rose. We've never had more than one staff member before, so we figured that sort of numbering would be fine. Hey, don't look at me, it's not like it was our idea to include her. She's not a prisoner -- the only crime she's committed is sticking her nose where it didn't belong... You can ask her for the details, but she's just here for maintenance on our extraction machine. It's not easy keeping that thing running smoothly, you know? As part of her duties, she'll be privy to all the same information as you, but don't let her be any more of a busybody than she already is -- she has absolutely no authority when it comes to your verdict decisions, got it?

MV: Mic Check - “Can anyone hear me?”

VD: Positive Feedback

Cover: Pathological Facade - Ghost

Her album would release last in line. The VDs aren't interrogations since there's been no crime -- Es asks about her duties and observations of the prison. In them, she admits her predictions that she and Es will eventually be on trial for their involvement in the prisoner's fates.

Thus, her mvs are focused on her emotions towards the prisoners, her pride in helping bring justice, and her guilt at providing Milgram a means to pass judgement on people she cared about. I'm going to Goncharov the actual mvs/songs, but Mic Check is generally an introduction to her job behind the scenes prepping the equipment that will allow the prisoners' songs to be heard, as well kick off symbolism of her as a performer herself. She'll make a comment about how the experiment is leading to tragedy, "as if someone said Macbeth" (then covers her mouth, as she's standing in a theater herself).

I kept getting tripped up looking for Deco*27 songs that worked and weren't already taken, so I decided to go with some favorites and vibe-matching songs from other artists!

Comments during trial closing: It's good to hear you weren't a pushover when Rose gave her thoughts on the verdicts -- you guys disagreed on quite a few of them, eh? Ah... so she's not the type to pick fights, is that it? I guess that explains how she's managed to get along with everyone. (sigh) Even you knew better than to get attached like that. Well, at least she's kept our machine up and running the whole time.

Trial 2

Commencement: Now I need to wake Rose. We're going to need some extra upgrades to our machine if we want to get the most out of this round of extractions. I've got a sneaking suspicion that she and her bleeding heart are going to try and sway you during this trial. Her duty is specifically to look out for the prisoners' safety, but yours is only to judge them. Don't forget that.

MV: Changement - “Don’t say ‘break a leg,’ if it might just break.”

VD: Control Variable

Cover: TOXY - Kujiragi

I did my best to write out the title pronunciation out in katakana since I wanted it as the name of the dance move, not a direct translation of meaning. I went with シャジェモ "sha-je-mo" as the closest I could get to the "shanj-mou" sound, but feel free to correct me if there's a better way to write it. The door is based off of various set designs for Clara's home in The Nutcracker. (There's no deep meaning that this is the only one not opening -- I realized too late all the others are cracked open and my art app doesn't have the tools to easily fix that so I'm sticking with it 😭)

A changement is a small jump in ballet -- I thought it was fun to combine that (which means "to change") with Control Variable (refering to the variable in an experiment that never changes). The video shows conflicting emotions as her decisions/inaction caused so much to happen between trials, yet at the same time she feels like there's so much she'll be unable to change even if she really wants to intervene. Her mvs show the prisoners pretty regularly (since they are her crime, she's realized), and the teaser line is paired with references to Mahiru's broken leg.

The thumbnail combines different areas of study -- mechanical, medical, musical, mathematical (theater spotlight, muscles, Weakness notes, motion formulas). I think it's super cool how many areas of expertise are passed around the fanbase when discussing the characters. I've picked up new facts about plants, food, anatomy, geography, music, animals language, (sigh. color theory.), hobbies, professions, mythology, etc from fans with different fields of knowledge. While that's one of my favorite aspects of the project from the outside, I think it would be super intimidating to someone on the inside trying to tackle so much information at once.

Closing: As for Rose... (laughs) I thought she was dooming herself before--! Not only has she gotten hopelessly attached to everyone over the course of this trial, she's even started a relationship with one of the prisoners! And of all the people she could have chosen... Eh? Oh no, we have no policies against that for our staff. I mean, the whole point of Milgram is to explore human nature, the power of emotions, the complexities of connections, all that crap. I'm just grateful she shows a bit more common sense when she's operating the machine...

Trial 3

MV: Showstopper - “There won’t be applause, but I’ll take a bow, okay?”

VD: Please Exit Left

Cover: Ironina - Nilfruits

I don't know the album theme yet, but this is the tentative sprite and thumbnail design. The T2 sprite was kind of an "innocent" one, since at the beginning she still has faith in her role in the prison, excited to work with everyone there. (Plus, I joined the fandom a little after t2 started so that's peak excitement time lol). The T3 sprite has much more of a "guitly" feel to it because, at the end of T2 and after this hiatus, she'd harbor a lot more guilt about her position and fear about the experiment's conclusion. As a fun little detail, her pencil has been replaced with a more permanent utensil as final verdicts are locked in.

Now listen. My artist brain was constantly fighting my science brain when doing sprite designs -- I know gloves like that and nothing else isn't proper PPE. I know none of those are safety shoes (god forbid wearing just socks??? to the lab???). There should be no jewellery at all. The whole point of a lab coat is that you don't roll up the sleeves and expose your bare skin. However. It's anime character design. There can be compromise.

Referencing Rose's personal life as a performance and comparing Milgram's trials to one, I wanted the mv to play on "showstopper" as both a great show and a literal attempt to stop the project before it reaches its finale. There would be creepy comparisons in the mv between operating stage equipment and prison executions: curtain/set ropes and nooses, heavy duty lightswitches and electric chairs, etc.

Misc.

And lightening things up again -- birthday art and minigrams :3

Birth flower: Camellias. Pink camellias symbolize love but also longing. The fact that they bloom in winter, and have a quick death (the entire flower wilts at once, instead of individual petals falling off), have inspired different meanings in different cultures -- overcoming hard times, facing death in battle, inseparable lovers, and so on

Three minigrams featuring my own annoyance that her design is a bit close to Shidou's coat/gloves look, a mandatory short joke, and a pun that works so perfectly for my Put-In-Situations guy

[lilbugprincess]

Took my winter coat to the dry cleaners, then bought a little boba tea before driving home on the back roads five below the speed limit bc it's a BEAUTIFUL day and no one was behind me.

Living this long was worth it!

[teaandsmut]

I have a new headcanon for how Catra's clothes fit together: her top is a bodysuit that she pulls over her head and fastens with snaps/poppers at the crotch (and which has a full or partial split for her tail to go through), with leggings or shorts over the top.

You can probably expect to see this featured in a Glitra smutfic at some point :p

[sugared-violets]

by the way i now own the Welcome to Night Vale short shorts that say creepy on the ass in a magenta gothic font so basically my life is complete

[the-busy-ghost]

Knowing very little about clothing construction beyond the basics of how to hand sew in a straight(ish) line, combined with machine made fast fashion garments that fall apart easily, means it takes me waaaay longer to fix a button or a ripped pocket than it really should

[comradejoanmir]

Sometimes looking at merch prices is like…. someone think of the global south won’t someone please think of the global south

[a-tiny-sloth]

why is this winter jacket thing such a huge fucking ordeal

[sexbot300]

18+, minors dni! (being a slut for nanami bc honestly who isn’t)

authors note: hello! this is my first-ever post, i hope you guys enjoy it! (I literally have no idea how layouts work yet, bear with me)

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚

sugardaddy!nanami who scolds you whenever you feel as if you’re “doing too much,” with all the lavish gifts he gives you. nothing is too much for his angel.

sugardaddy!nanami that asks which jewelry set you like best. emerald or ruby? ah. how about both?

sugardaddy!nanami who you thought would be a joyless, serious man as people portray him. they’re not lying, he really is serious, to people that aren’t you. you’ll witness a soft side of him that only shows the most gentle of smiles.

sugardaddy!nanami who gladly scoops you up bridal style in his arms, walking while you burry your head into his chest.

sugardaddy!nanami who unpacks the gifts he gets you on the countertop after a business trip. “kento, baby, you shouldn’t have.” you play with the polyester ribbon while he simply leans back on the fridge opening up a beverage. “I couldn’t help but have the prettiest woman in the world waiting for me at home. it would be embarrassing of me to show up empty-handed.”

sugardaddy!nanami who for the first few times that you went out with him, meticulously kept track of the things you called “cute” and noted wherever your eyes wandered for a minute too long. the next morning you woke up with everything you ogled your eyes at decorating your room. attached is a note that read, “please forgive me, sweetheart, I didn’t know which you liked best. p.s. my sincerest apologies again, I let my own thoughts get carried away. be good for me and wear this tonight.” your fingers gingerly held onto the note, until your eyes fell on two things you don’t remember looking at when you went out shopping. a beautiful silk gown and an expensive lingerie set.

sugardaddy!nanami who will gladly kneel to strap your heel, placing a kiss on your ankle, after trailing his hand up and down your shin.

sugardaddy!nanami who sends you a monthly allowance for your hair, nails, skincare, and whatever you desire.

sugardaddy!nanami who thinks indulging in materialistic things is futile, but he wants to see you decorated in every fine piece of fabric, clothing, and accessories.

sugardaddy!nanami who acts as if he’s unbothered by you curling up on his lap while he types away on his work computer. you couldn’t even tell how much he adores every second of this as he idly types away. he loves to have you pushed up on him all the time, the minute you slightly move? a strong hand is placed on your thigh or waist to prevent you from leaving.

sugardaddy!nanami who’s only condition is to continue this dynamic until you’re unhappy or want nothing to do with it. (you literally want to marry this man but okay).

sugardaddy!nanami who has a saturday night ritual with you where you buy the most extravagant of desserts and feed it to each other. oh yeah, you have to be sitting on his lap the entire time while you both feed each other from the same fork.

sugardaddy!nanami who places his nose on the nape of your neck while you’re seated on him as he sharply breathes in your scent. “as much as I enjoy eating sweets with you,” he said in a whisper, “they could never mimic your taste.”

sugardaddy!nanami who started off paying your rent, bills, and utilities which he felt mentally, secretly disgruntled by. not because he’s paying (duh) or he has to take care of you, it’s just the fact you haven’t moved in with him yet.

sugardaddy!nanami who considers you under his care and deems your wellbeing as his responsibility. you’re hurt? point to where. your body is sore? lay back down while he massages you. you’re hungry? food is being sent over and here’s money for grocery shopping. you’re upset? he kneels down in front of you as he attentively listens to your sobs.

sugardaddy!nanami who supports your hobbies. he’ll drop off little things that he knows have to do with your interests and only says, “you like this don’t you?” you name drop pilates, cooking, art, knitting, whatever it is, he signs you up for the nearest classes.

sugardaddy!nanami who actually notices if you did something different with your hair, if you wore a new shade of lip gloss. little things.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚

sugardaddy!nanami who places the most tender of kisses onto your forehead like he didn’t wreck your shit a second prior. “such a good girl… i’m so so proud. taking my cock in so well.”

sugardaddy!nanami that plays with your body in subtle ways. hands? his big, veiny fingers are stroking yours gently. thighs? constantly getting gripped. your waist? a strong arm wrapped around it. your cheek? a thumb stroking it. shoulders? relieving tension from it. collarbone? rearranging your necklace so it lays properly. guts? fucked out of place. makeup? smeared all across his luxurious bedsheets. lips? blown out from sucking his monster cock and making out.

sugardaddy!nanami who rents out an entire summer beach house with a glorious view of the ocean. partially because he likes the privacy of you two alone, surrounded by nature, and romantic sunset dinners. also because he wants to watch you ride him while he leans back on a beach chair without disturbing the public. (nobody is allowed to see what’s his).

sugardaddy!nanami who actually pounded you into another dimension, your mind still in a haze while he carries you to the running bath. “stay with me princess, i need to clean you up.”

sugardaddy!nanami who makes sure you finish several times before he does. oh poor baby, you’re out of breath? would you like some water? we’re not finished yet. poor nanami didn’t get to cum once, and you so badly want him to use your body to do so.

sugardaddy!nanami who buys you a personal collection of sex toys to play with when he’s not there. he personally studies the way your body twitches and convulses with certain toys, he needs to know how to please his princess. sometimes he chuckles to himself because he knows deep down, nothing– no one, can please you the way he does.

sugardaddy!nanami who sees you stressed or crying over school and work and quickly replaces those tears with ones of joy.

sugardaddy!nanami who will have you folded like a damn lawn chair and only whisper sweet nothings while drilling into you.

sugardaddy!nanami who has a high sex drive but hides it in the beginning like the gentleman he is, making sure you feel comfortable and safe.

sugardaddy!nanami who gives you the car you’ve been wanting forever. you ride the car for a bit with him ecstatic, kissing him over and over, giggling. you both quickly found a new way to celebrate. you’re pinned down over the glove compartment, one large hand gripping both of yours as they’re pinned to your back, and the sounds of skin slapping with your loud moans mix in the air. “ke-n-toooo~ I-I don’t want to ge- uh! It m-messy in h-ere…” “don’t worry darling, I-” a low grunt comes out, “i always cum inside dont I?” he quickens up the pace only to have you screaming like a whore. “t-that’s it. just take it. It feels good, I know,” he mercilessly pounds into you, kissing your temple, “just come undone on me, that’s it. make me proud.”

sugardaddy!nanami who texts you to quickly come to the office and sends you a cab for an urgent “visit.” why? he’s stressed and his favorite method to cool down is your throat expanding around his girthy dick. he'll grip the strands of your hair while cooing at you, "i know angel, i know. but you look so beautiful right now, don't stop."

sugardaddy!nanami who groans from the stressors of his job, turning his attention to you while he pushes himself back on his chair. he looks down on his bulge before sighing and tugging his tie down left and right. “go ahead. come suck me off, i need it and I know you want it too.”

sugardaddy!nanami who does the whole pillow underneath, hand pressed on lower abdomen, with a vibrator wand abusing your clit.

sugardaddy!nanami who has a diet that consists of devouring your pussy on a regular basis. “b-babe… i- ah! s-slow down,” as you elicit a loud dirty moan that fills the room, “pleaaaase.” if only you knew he takes more pleasure out of this than you and you’re the one gripping his hair to the point of leaving his scalp red. he further pushes his nose into you, mumbling, “beg all you want, I’m not done.”

sugardaddy!nanami who is a gentleman, really. who will kill anything within 5 meters if it remotely threatens you. but he can’t help but admire the way your little cunt can’t fully take it the first few times together.

sugardaddy!nanami who never thought much of daddy kinks, but when he hears “daddy” slip out of your precious mouth, his heels dig deeper into the mattress, his massive body weight shifts crushing you, angling his dick in an almost sinful way while pressing you deeper into a mating press. “say it again.”

sugardaddy!nanami who watches you squirm with a vibrator jammed to your clit and his tongue lapping up and down your cunt like any separation from his tongue and your pussy will cause his death. “k-kento s-stop this feeli- ah! I th- oh god! I think I need to pee!” he can’t help but chuckle in his head. his baby never squirted before until now.

sugardaddy!nanami who secretly wants to get you knocked up. man loves fucking his cum into you. he has such a big breeding kink that you catch on.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

[honeyed-disgraceful]

Maybe my people pleaser tendencies make me fake because I shouldve told those pretentious daddy money art kids they were right when they said "oh you're more of an artist than I'll ever be"