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viviane-lefay · 2 months

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Dagan Gera & Santari Khri - Headcanon

Part I

Here are some notes about my thoughts & headcanons regarding these two characters - and how I, personally, see them (i.e. some of their backstory + some random facts), as well as their relationship.

I guess, this is something I wrote for myself, first and foremost, so I won't forget

However, if someone happens to like what they found here, then I'd be really, really happy, of course. Finding some like-minded people to talk to would be so nice.

Anyway, here is what I have written so far:

Dagan

First of all some words on his appearance:

I headcanon Dagan as quite tall for an Arkanian Offshoot, measuring 1,90m / 6’25’’ (the average height being 1,80m / 5’11’’).

He is of the athletic and muscular built of a warrior (definitely takes after his father in that), that has yet a lithe, almost elvenlike grace (like his mother) to it, with broad shoulders and long legs.

Blessed with impeccable bone structure, his features are strikingly handsome, refined yet masculine - with a sharp, chiseled jawline, and high, prominent cheekbones, creating a gracefully flowing ogee curve from his brows down to the chin.

His complexion is of a clear and cool marble-white - with a faint rosy sheen, which is especially pronounced on his lips.

As far as I'm concerned, he doesn’t have this weird stripey pattern from the shoulders upwards, because it just isn’t very flattering on his beautiful face, and I think the designers did him a disservice there.

His irises are of a silvery, pale icy blue, with a slightly darker ring at the corneal limbus.

He has long and plenteous lashes rimming his big, almond-shaped, slightly hooded eyes, which are, like his brows, of a darker shade than his hair.

Dagan's flowing mane is quite a sight to behold - thick and silky, it somehow has a lively quality to it, changing colour according to the incidence of light.

There is a slight gradient, with the roots having a darker colour than the lengths and, especially, the tips - plus some additional highlights here and there.

The different shades give it a depth and dimension that only accentuates its fullness - ranging from a deep and smoky steel grey, to a shimmering, frosty silver-white.

He usually kept it at armpit-level, but has since (post game) grown it out to mid-back length.

His hairstyle is fairly simple: The upper part is combed back and held in place by a golden clip - except for a few shorter strands which are framing his face - while the rest is flowing down his back.

For practical reasons, he keeps the lengths neatly tucked into his hood.

He is also keeping a Padawan braid out of sentimental reasons.

(When he still was a Padawan and on a mission together with Santari, he came by an injury on one of his arms, so Santari had to help him a little with doing his hair for a short while.)

He places great importance on having a well-groomed appearance, but not out of vanity. In fact, his good looks is something that he actually is a bit oblivious about. It is rather his abilities that he is quite proud of.

~*~

Many a lady desired the handsome Jedi knight of renown, Dagan Gera, fellow Jedi included, but he only ever had eyes for Santari.

Dagan loved her from the moment he first laid eyes on her - and he knew, with a certainty he could not fathom, that he always would, for as long as he existed.

~*~

"Tough on the outside, soft on the inside." is something that describes Dagan quite well, for the most part.

There is nothing lukewarm about this man. If he loves, then he does so with every fibre of his being - profoundly, fervently, and with unwavering faithfulness.

On the other hand, this can also mean a great capacity for vulnerability, which is why he guards his heart so much.

~*~

While he may be very proud, he puts great emphasis on his code of honour, both as a warrior, and as a man in general.

That is also one of the reasons why he got along so well with Rayvis, becoming good friends on top of being comrades-in-arms.

~*~

Now on to the backstory part:

He entered the Jedi order as an initiate rather late, at the age of 7, despite being exceptionally strong in the Force (midichlorian count of 17500 per cell).

This was because of difficulties the Jedi had in identifying him early on, with him falling under the radar due to living in the secluded slave district on the outskirts of a relatively small and remote city.

Pure-bred Arkanians, which held nothing but contempt for the experiment-born offshoots, usually shunned these areas, characterized by their ghetto-like structures and harsh living conditions, as well as their inhabitants. The only exception to this were a few scientists, overseers and bureaucrats that were tasked with the management of their “biological resources”.

To keep them from rebelling, even the communities of offshoots were made to mirror the rigid hierarchies of the Arkanian caste system, and competitive struggles amongst the populace were very much encouraged, if not enforced.

Dagan was the only child of Medhani & Dhaval Gera, a young couple of higher ranking slaves deployed in the mining business, with Medhani working as an engineer, and Dhaval as construction manager and security guard.

While the working conditions were not as dire as the ones regular miners had to endure, they were still exposed to a hazardous environment, and occupational safety measure laws were a thing that didn’t apply to the slaves who were deemed disposable.

The excessive genetic tampering the offshoot subspecies was subjected to came at the cost of a weakened immune system, which made them vulnerable even to minor illnesses.

When Dagan was 5 years old, Medhani fell seriously ill. Despite her husband’s care, her condition worsened and it soon became apparent that she would not survive without medical attention.

With a heavy heart, Dhaval made a visit to the overseers in the hopes they’d send a physician for examination. Usually, this was seen as a last resort the slaves used to call upon, as the intention behind it was not to give genuine help, but to inspect, and potentially cull, the populace. Only those still deemed useful were given treatment.

It had only been out of desperation that he took this route, as the bond between him and his wife was one of genuine affection, and not, as was customary, based on the utilitarian purposes of the eugenics and breeding programs. Slaves usually did not get to choose their spouses, they were allocated one.

Medhani and Dhaval belonged to the few that resisted this practice, and to the even fewer that were actually successful in their endeavor, as most were forcibly separated. It was only a matter of luck, that, after screening, they were declared a good genetic match, and, thus, allowed to wed.

Unfortunately, the authorized physician decided against treatment and ordered for her to be euthanized (not out of mercy, but to make the respective caregivers free for work again).

Dhaval, who despite it all had clung to hope, was neither able nor willing to accept this, and quickly raised his objections in fierce opposition, but to no avail.

At this point, their small son, who up until then had remained relatively silent, standing hidden in the doorway, came running towards them, loudly protesting and screaming for his mother, only to be ungently grabbed, shoved aside and detained, to make way for the poison that was about to be administered.

At this point, Dhaval snapped and started to attack both the physicians and the overseers. Considering he was just one man facing several opponents at once, he stood his ground for a remarkable amount of time, being particularly tall and strong, and a formidable combatant, trained and highly skilled in various forms of martial arts. Ultimately, however, he was defeated, after reinforcements were called in, and executed on the spot.

With both his parents dead, Dagan was now about to be sent to the housing and educational institution for orphans.

Nobody paid any heed to the boy, and the state of utter shock and distress he was still in – bereaved of the warmth of his family and home.

If anything, Dhaval and Medhani had been loving and attentive parents, intent on creating a little sanctuary amidst the desolation, the cold, always protective of their circle of three – and for Dagan, that is what it was, and what he would always remember, and crave. Neither would he forget, nor forgive that, which had taken all this away from him.

He was but given a certain amount of time to process, and to inter the cremated remains of his parents, which he was handed the following day, before he was picked up.

In Arkania, where detachment, rationality and intellect were deemed the ideal, emotiveness and sentimental bonding was seen as a weakness.

Dagan, however, had always been an emotional child – intelligent, but very much swayed by the stirrings of his heart and his fervour – a trait he would retain into adulthood, even though tempered by necessity and training.

He would come to face much pushback and humiliation because of this trait during his time in the orphanage.

The facility was a dismal and oppressive place that resembled more a factory complex than it did a home, the accommodations desolate, with children living like sardines in a tin.

The education, as they called it, was not so much about the imparting of knowledge, as it was about molding the young minds into the exact shape the rulers desired, perfectly indoctrinated to fulfill their designated role in the societal machinery of Arkania - submissive, hardworking and efficient, loyal only to their owners and ready to betray even their own kind if it meant they were awarded better conditions.

In the two years Dagan spent there, he grew ever more serious and brooding - and increasingly distrustful of others, preferring his own company, never feeling safe to be himself.

His only solace were his abilities, which he honed with great eagerness to succeed - abilities amongst which there were some the others didn’t seem to share. Abilities which kept him safe – and to be safe meant to be strong, to be strong meant to be worthy.

Behind this veneer of strength and confidence there was a face he just couldn’t let them see, a side of him that sometimes even he forgot was there, that yet was the driving force behind everything he was, everything he desired, and stood for – acknowledged or not.

Even later, there were only a few that got a glimpse beneath, and only one person to break this façade altogether – the only one to know who he truly was, the only one he truly trusted and felt safe with, and the one that became the sole focus of his being, his whole universe.

It was one morning that his life would change, and he was summoned to the principal’s office, unaware of what would await him there. As he stepped through the door he saw them – two figures in robes of gold, majestic and noble, an imposing sight in stark contrast to the bleakness that surrounded them.

If it was known that those offshoots that managed to escape their planet often turned out to be among the most driven individuals one could find, determined to prove themselves to be more than an Arkanian slave, it was doubly true with Dagan, who pursued his training with unparalleled ambition and tenacity, pushing himself further than any expectations, placed upon him from outside, demanded.

Even his rather late admittance did not deter him from catching up with, and even surpassing his peers quickly. Combined with his already great latent force abilities, he soon became one of the best, most promising initiates the order had seen in a long, long while.

~*~

By the time he was knighted, he had mastered all forms of Lightsaber techniques (taught during his age) - but with a special emphasis on Form II and VI.

Aside from his abilities with the force and lightsaber, he is also accomplished in a variety of martial arts and hand-to-hand combat disciplines, and can hold his own very well, even without using his lightsaber, or the force.

~*~

When he was put in the bacta tanc, he was 30 years old.

~*~

Coming from a species of genetically tampered slaves, I can only imagine how upsetting it must have been for him to learn about what had become of the republic of old, turned into an empire via an army of likewise genetically engineered soldiers, cloned for a specific purpose, seen as “less than” human, and more as objects and means to an end, not unlike the offshoots were.

It certainly explains the disgust, the sheer contempt and barely concealed anger that is evident in his voice when he speaks about that “unworthy machine of an empire”.

It also explains why he is so keen on building an army to ”cleanse the galaxy with fire”, and his offer to Rayvis to “dream up another [war]” when the latter complained about the lack of honour to be won from the current ones – because to Dagan this indeed IS an honourable goal, justifying the means he is willing to take … and it’s a matter that has become personal, being tied to grievances of the past.

And learning about the Jedi order’s involvement in all of this certainly did not help in improving his opinion about them, either. (He didn’t have to take this out on Cal, though.)

I think these types of injustice were always something he aimed to eradicate, and also one of his and Santari’s shared dreams – to make the galaxy a better place.

I also don’t see him as universally arrogant and condescending – extending to all people indiscriminately – that would be foolish, and he is no such fool.

Imho, it rather concerned those he considered his enemies (obviously), his opponents, and potential rivals, but not regular people who weren’t warriors and force-users like him … I think for them – especially the downtrodden – he had a soft spot, not least due to his own history.

In the flashback scenes on Tanalorr, he talks to Santari about all the worlds he had seen during his explorations that the light of the Jedi did not reach, as he put it. At this point he still equated justice and freedom with the Jedi order, who were seen as the guardians of these values. He truly wanted to bring this light to those worlds, and to the people inhabiting them, because he truly, genuinely sympathized with them and wanted to help them.

[ I absolutely don’t understand how people can see him as a two-dimensional villain after having this background information about him, especially.

Have you guys read up about it!? Arkanian society and history – especially concerning science and medical ethics, as well as the attitude towards sentient life. Like, holy sh*t - Dr. Mengele sends his regards!

To live in such a social system as one of the offshoots, regarded and treated as human trash, truly must have been a nightmare – and it obviously doesn’t leave you unaffected. So, I wouldn’t be surprised if this was one of the causes of his displayed prideful attitude and behaviour – likely as a reactive response of some sorts.

That there is another side to him, his true self, as well, is also an undeniable fact. Of course he has got to have some really endearing and noble qualities, aside from what we were shown.

Otherwise Santari wouldn't have such faith in him, and, as I said, this woman is no fool. She knows her man, as well as this side of him better than anyone else, and she proclaims it with such confidence (in the force echo after the fight in the forrest array).

If anything, these facts are adding to his already great potential of being a complex and fascinating character, who could have been so much more than what he ended up being in the videogame.

But that is definitely something you can blame on the writers, their laziness and disregard. You can definitely tell that they didn’t really care for this character more than him being a mere plot device and tool for Cal’s development, which is really an absolute shame! ]

Santari

Santari entered the Jedi order as an initiate at the common age of 4.

~*~

Unlike Dagan, she did not get to develop a deep bond with her parents, whom she hardly remembered, and did not get to know a home and life as a family the way he did.

~*~

She was very strong in the Force (midichlorian count of 15500 per cell), as well as a gifted, if not brilliant child, whose talents were soon picked up, encouraged and fostered by her superiors. Her ingenious mind stood out like a beacon amongst her peers, and paved the way for her meteoric rise in both ranks and esteem of the Jedi order.

But she also possessed a likewise strong and compassionate heart, and a calm and patient disposition, balancing out her intellectual prowess and vigor.

~*~

Santari's first reaction to Dagan was similar to his (falling in love at first sight).

However, when she witnessed his behaviour towards others – his display of pride and arrogance - which she found unacceptable, she chose to suppress her feelings towards him.

(basically, he only was “that beautiful jerk” to her from then on, whom she wanted nothing to do with, if she could help it, but who somehow seemed to always cross her path, looking at her in that strange manner she just couldn’t make sense of. The intensity of his icy blue gaze stirred something in her that she dared not explore any further.)

This only changed after she got to know him better, after being sent on a mission together with their respective masters, and the two started to develop a friendship, growing close.

~*~

After she and Dagan got to know each other better over time, she also learned about his past – something that left a lasting impression on her, and kept on preying on her mind.

As a feeling being, she could not help but be deeply affected by what she had learned.

As an aspiring scientist, she was sickened to the core in light of this callous disregard for life, and the abject cruelty with which these people were treated in the name of science. The blatant abuse of this otherwise noble discipline infuriated her beyond all measure.

Soon after, she spent many hours in the archives, learning as much as she could about Arkanian culture, history, and their scientific projects – of which the genetical engineering of the offshoot subspecies commanded the major part of her attention.

Aside from the shock and outrage she felt, there was a growing unease building up, as well as the undeniable emergence of another feeling – a growing concern that kept on spreading inside her and left her no peace of mind – linked to the man who had by then grown to become a dear friend of hers. The man whose intense gaze had woven its silver chains deep within the fabric of her soul, inextricably entangled – the man she could not bear to lose.

In the time to come, she immersed herself into her research, desperate determination leading her on, in her quest to find something, anything, to undo some of the damage, the worst part at least, the genetic tampering had inflicted upon its victims’ physical structure – the weakened immune system, responsible for the shortened lifespan and often premature death that afflicted Dagan’s kind.

It would become her first major research project, although one of a more private nature.

At some point, when she was confident enough to reveal what she had been working on, she called on Dagan to visit her in her laboratory, to tell him about her plans which still required testing on a living subject. Despite her optimism regarding the progress of her project, she was afraid of what his reaction might be, and whether they might still be on good terms once he knew.

He heard her out, unease written across his face at the mention of a potential gene-modifying drug, but quickly regained his composure, not willing to let the past cloud his judgement.

Did he not trust this woman with his life? Did he not trust her unparalleled brilliance, her benevolence, and judgement?

He only knew he would do anything for her, endure anything for her, accept anything from her, and so he surrendered himself to her capable hands. She was the one he trusted most!

Her relief was palpable when it became apparent that her experiment proved to be a success.

[ If there is anyone who could pull this off - it’s definitely her. After all she’s this genius of a woman, whose inventions inspire others with awe even 200 years later. So, of course she would be able to do this.

And concerning him – wouldn’t it be the ultimate proof of his love and faith in her, that he, coming from a genetically raped people, trusts her with a procedure like this!? ]

~*~

When Dagan was put in the bacta tanc, she was 28 years old (she's 2 years younger than him).

~*~

Part II can be found here.

#please be nice #if you like it - then that is great - even if you only like some parts #and if you don't - please keep that to yourself ok!?#dagan gera #jedi knight #santari khri #jedi master #high rebublic era #star wars #jedi survivor #headcanon #otp #dagan/santari #santari/dagan

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loverboypercy · 2 years

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Starline for the acrostic game? ~sunlight-ships

ACROSTIC F/O ASK GAME

thank uuu @sunlight-ships <33

S - Story - if you and them were in a fairytale, which story would you be and who would play which character?

tbh i already have an idea of sa/tbk red being morgan le fay - granted as much more of a "arthur/sonics silly wizard sibling that lives in the mountains" than their more traditional kind of personality.

i think it would be funny if we got to see eggs in that universe as some kinda evil king, w starline as his like advisor, trusted guard or smthin. then he gets seduced by a funny weirdo.

T - Teach - what skills of theirs would they teach you? what would you teach them?

uh, i mean. they had to start learning more hand-to-hand combat bcs thats what starline kinda does-

but in their like. actual relationship he'd try to get red into hacking and some of the more advanced robotic stuff but they either are Bad at it or just don't really care all that much.

however, i hc that he actually loves cooking/baking so thats something they get to do together and bond over ! he's also one of those Fancy mfers that have their tea like done in a specific way. buddy learns how to do that for him bcs sometimes he needs a lil pick-me-up

A - Art - do they draw or paint? what about any other kind of art? what’s their favorite style/subject/another artist who inspires them?

he admits to having a mild soft spot for aesthetics. he did design and paint his logo himself after all ! if he did end up making art it would probably be more the abstract kind. its a little pretentious but like. red thinks its cute.

he is not allowed to talk about his inspiration and why he wont stop drawing stylised cityscapes and theme parks.

R - Rainbow - what colors do you associate with them and why?

tbh that really nice magenta on his outfit and his eyes make me a lil <3 u kno. its a v pretty colour !

L - Language - what’s their love language? what’s yours?

being annoying /j

i think its pretty solidly set up from his canon appearances that he's an acts of service/gifts kinda guy ! red is also gifts but also quality time.

I - Image - show us a picture of them that gives you a lot of feelings. if they aren’t a visual character, describe your mental image of them!

i love everyones take on him but evans got a special little place in my heart. also his gay little earrings,, never forget what they took from us..

(i also really REALLY love his more monsterous/frankenstein-y concept art where he is Tall. but this post is already really LONG-)

N - Nostalgia - what’s your f/o’s favorite memory?

considering uh. how He Is and comments made off-handedly on ians podcast - i imagine his family wasnt. the best. there was always a disconnect there, and he never really felt like he fit in with them.

but theres one time. he built a little robot for his mother - a very simple and crude thing, something he'd be ashamed of now. but it made her smile and she ruffled his hair. its his most treasured memory, and he hates it.

a second is the first time red called him starlight unironically (it was a bit of a joke before they became actual friends/partners, red called it him once by accident and he got So Mad that they kept doing it). they were still just, very loosely, friends at that point. he was still figuring out what to do with himself, so red took him out to the chao garden with them that morning and had him help out a little. at one point they remarked:

"i don't know if you'll get it right, starlight. but i hope you do."

E - Emotion - is your f/o open with their feelings or do they keep them close to their chest?

starline is one of those people that just bottle and bottle and bottle until they explode - usually by having a breakdown and crying. sometimes he lets stuff slip but he tries so hard to desperately hold onto his cool and calculated persona that it just makes him slip more.

#iloveyou.ans #starlight💫.rom #long post #i kno ive been v jokey w this ship but like. i love this guy a lot #i want to explore this stuff bcs while i enjoy him as a villain i geniunely kinda want him to get better. away from all the teens he #traumatized ofc #its okay kids you dont have to redeem the bad guy this time ill just make him fall in love w me itll be fine dw

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finelinevogue · 3 years

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Can you write something about when Harry and Y/N broke up but fans speculate that they got back together and they did get back together. They broke over something stupid, please. You don’t have to do this exactly it can be something like that.

let’s see how this turns out! hope it’s what you wished for?!

The last few months had been rough.

What had started as rumours of a breakup between everyones favourite couple, you and Harry, had turned into an actual breakup.

It had started by Harry spending more time with Olivia, due to press for Don’t Worry Darling. They were always hanging out with each other, even when there was no publicity stunt telling them to. You found it appropriate at first, wanting the movie to gain some form of reputation, but after a while you believed it turned South. It was becoming a definite friendship and not just because they had to. It was the way that Harry would bring Olivia over for dinner without checking with you first, or taking the dog for a walk with her not you, or even staying longer out on stunts than they needed to just because they wanted to.

So you challenged Harry on it. Hell, even the tabloids were challenging you both - claiming Harry had split from you for Olivia. You made him question whether he thought his actions were irresponsible and appropriate or not, to which he thought there was nothing wrong and thought you were being irrational. You didn’t speak to him for the rest of the day, only to find him later on the phone speaking to Olivia about how crazy you’d been acting about it all. So you showed him crazy and walked out.

Until today.

For over a half a year your sister had her wedding planned and Harry was supposed to be your guest. You were nervous about turning up without him, because your family were very judgy. Your sister couldnt help being the smarter and the prettier one, but she also didn’t have to parade it around so everyone knew of it. Your mum and dad thought you a disappointment for the longest time, but once you’d gotten a job and had moved out they were a bit more loving over you. Still didn’t hide the fact they desperately hoped for you to have a relationship. It wasn’t that you were bringing Harry along to prove that someone loved you, but more to prove that they would never fully be satisfied whether you had a boyfriend or not. There would always be a podium stand slightly lower for you to stand on.

However, they didn’t know about the breakup.

“Y/N, nice to see you. Where’s Harry?” Another guest asked you, relatives of your mum. It was the same question over and over again, no one really caring about how you are but instead whether you’re in a positive relationship.

“Oh um I think he’s just running a bit late.” Was your chosen answer to respond to said question. It was repetitive, but it kept people off your back.

The wedding was completely beautiful. It was in a beautiful church and was decorated to perfection. The theme was white and royal blue, something your sister had always dreamed of. Children played amongst the pews and family relatives mumbled to each other about gossip. There was still a heavy sadness to the event. Maybe it was because your sister hadn’t asked you to be a bridesmaid - instead, choosing her best friends instead - or maybe it was because you missed Harry so much.

He’d fucked up. He really had, but it didn’t take away that burning passion for him that spread like a wildfire in your belly. You missed him. You still loved him. Worst of all, you had to pretend everything was all alright in front of your family when actually you were breaking apart inside.

Harry hadn’t messaged saying that he was or wasn’t coming, but after everything that had happened you were confident he was going to be a no show, and you would be the embarrassment of the family once again. Your relationship had been very private and exclusive, but Harry’s fans were so investigative you wouldn’t be surprised if they knew that you’d broken up and were aware that you were at a wedding today without him. Neither of you had made a public statement about your breakup, but neither of your wanted to damage each other even more. Fans suspected though and rumours travel fast.

“Y/N how are you doing? How’s Harry?” Another aunt came and asked you, this time with your mother in tow.

“Oh he’s great, yes.” You smiled forcefully, not actually having a clue how your ex-boyfriend was doing. You didn’t keep up with his social media because you were afraid of what you might find.

“Where is he? Is he here?” Your aunt asked.

“He’s late, apparently.” Your mother answered for you, sneeringly. “You’ll be made a fool of if he’s a no show Y/N.”

“I know.”

“I hope everything goes well for you both.” Your aunt kindly said, before waiting for your mum to say something nice too. That was a mistake though.

“Well it’s unlikely she’ll find someone again!” Your mother laughed and pulled your aunt away from you. You furrowed your eyebrows and let your heart sink low.

What were you thinking, letting Harry go like that? Your mum was right, you were never going to find anyone else again. You were so lucky with Harry. He was so kind and so patient with you, but obviously he’d run out of steam towards the end. It doesn’t surprise you. You’ve always been told you’re a mighty handful and you need a lot of work put into looking after you, so you understand why you were probably too much for Harry. The showbiz life had never really been something you’d completely submerged yourself into, whereas you guess for Olivia it was rooted in her from birth. She understood Harry’s world the same way he did hers. They would match perfectly for each other, if that’s what they wanted.

You watched the room continue as usual, but you couldn’t keep yourself here. There was too much sadness welling deep within you that you wanted to just run and then keep running. So you did, only to get as far as the bench in the front courtyard. The outside felt calmer and more freeing than inside, you sat and absorbed it for a while, not realising that you were crying until your pretty multicoloured dress had grown darker with a pool of your tears.

“Shit.” You tried rubbing the tears out, but only made you cry a little harder. You thought about your makeup running and tried to compose yourself, fanning your face to calm it down from the heat now.

“And here I was thinking weddings were supposed to be happy.”

You stopped fanning your face to look at him. You couldn’t believe he was standing there, dressed in a beautiful white suit and salmon pink shirt underneath to compliment the colours of your dress - the outfit that you’d helped him pick out over a year ago. He’d remembered. He trusted that you’d still be wearing this dress. He was a sight alright. A vision of beauty and love.

“Harry?” You questioned, wiping your under eyes to clear away any running mascara, not quite believing he was standing there.

“So what was it? Bad music playing? No vodka? Or maybe there’s nowhere for you to escape to go read the book I know you have stuffed away in your clutch bag.” He stood at a distance from you, hands in his trouser pockets, to make sure you were comfortable.

“I brought vodka instead of the book.” You chuckled, reaching into your clutch to prove it to him.

“Lucky for you, i’ve come to save the day.” Harry reached to the inside of his blazer pocket and pulled out a Kindle. You’d always been debating whether or not to buy one, because the feeling of having a book to turn its’ physical pages is a feeling second to none. “Take it, it’s yours.”

Harry handed it out to you and you stood up to reach for it hesitantly. Harry assured you that it was okay and that you’d been reading too many books if you thought it was a trap of some sort.

“Thank you, Harry.” You spoke sincerely. You stroked your thumb over the cover and turned the case lid over to start up the screen. The screen lit up and it was set to a picture of your favourite quote, annotated just as you would have in your own book. You chuckled and let a few tears drop from the kindness of all of this.

“And then…” Harry unlocked the Kindle with your birthday as the password, before clicking on the library so you could discover what was waiting for you on your virtual shelves. Harry had downloaded all your most favourite books, whilst also downloading the ones he knew had been on your to-be-read list. He’d even added a few of his favourite books too, just because you liked reading his recommendations.

You smiled, but felt so lost.

“W-why are you here, H?” You asked, closing the lid and bravely looking up into his enchanting eyes. You had to control yourself not to comment on how wondrous they looked.

“To save the day.” He chuckled in repeat, until he knew you weren’t taking that for an answer. “Because I fucked up. Big league time.”

“Yeah.” You whispered, looking down at your shoes to see that they weren’t that far apart at all. He was so close to you, yet he wasn’t yours to catch.

“And i’ll never forgive myself for letting you walk out of that door. The promotion shit with Olivia? Done. I’ve finished. I explained that the movie isn’t as important to me as you. You,” Harry paused to breathe out, and took the risk of guiding your jaw up to meet your gaze with his soft hand, “you are real Y/N. You’re so important and key to my life and it bloody terrified me, still does actually, to think that you make me feel this way. I want everything with you. Marriage, kids, a home. A life. I was so worried I would screw it all up, though, to the point where I did screw it all up. I lost you and so I lost me. It’s selfish of me to ask whether any part of your heart still wants me, but—”

“Yes.” You quickly interjected before he could say something he’d later regret. “There is, yes.”

“R-really?” He stumbled over his response, not expecting you to react so soon but his words had got to you. His feelings were vulnerable and raw and it reminded you of how much you love him and feel safe with him.

“Why? Would you like me to say different.” You teased.

“No,” Harry rushed, stepping closer towards you, “God now. Stay, please. Forever, if you’ll have me?”

“I can deal with forever.” You leaned up to where his lips were, craving the taste of them against yours so badly. “Can I?” You looked between his lips and his eyes, watching his eyes coo in admiration of you. His arms snaked around your neck and cupped the back of your head, resting his ringed fingers against your skin delicately.

“You don’t have to ask, angel.” And with that you didn’t hesitate to reclaim your clips on his. He tasted as sweet and as soft as you could remember. The hint of mint sweets he kept in his car could be tasted all over his mouth, and he could no doubt taste the vodka on yours. He took no time in rushing to have his tongue exploring your mouth once mouth, biting on your lip when he got the chance to. He wanted you to remember this moment and how much love he has for you, and always will. Just as you do for him.

Hesitantly pulling away you smiled at him cheekily, feeling so much lighter and happier to have him here. With you in his arms so expertly.

“What?” He asked, leaving a quick kiss to your nose, inhaling his scent as he did.

“Just can’t believe you’re here.” You stroked his cheek with your thumb, and he leaned into your touch so comfortably. He had missed you so damn much, and it showed.

“Let you down once before and I wasn’t going to do it again.”

“So you’d have shown up even if I hadn’t?”

“Not happily, but yes.” He laughed thinking about it.

“Why?” You laughed with him.

“I’ve got to make my impression on your family somehow. Need to remind some of them how amazing and beautiful their special Y/N L/N is.”

“Some are going to need a lot more persuading than others.” You sighed, side-frowning over your words.

“No offence, but anyone who doesn’t treat you as a fucking diamond doesn’t deserve you and should watch out for kick up their backside from me.” You laughed over his empty threat and buried your head against his chest, listening to the heartbeat and rumble of laughter that came from within. This moment alone felt like home. Safe and warm.

“I love you, H.”

“Bloody love you too.”

Harry ended up returning to the wedding with you, much to your mothers surprise, and you both enjoyed the celebrations together. You shut yourselves out from everybody and just danced, talked and drank the night away.

You were so in love.

Later, photos got leaked of the wedding and it showed you and Harry dancing away in one of the backgrounds of the photos. It was supposed to be a shot of just the bride and groom, but you two have managed to get caught in it. You looked so caught up in each other that you still weren’t even aware the photo had been taken. You and Harry had determinedly avoided the camera all night, exactly for this reason, but a part of you was kind of happy that this one photo got leaked, because it showed the world that Harry was yours and you were his. It showed that you were together, or back-together as addressed by some FBI fans, and that you were stronger for it.

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4dtk · 3 years

Note

hii <88 ummm this is not from your prompt list but this suddenly come in my mind , can you made one like for chubby reader since i'm a little but chubby , angst and fluff , jaemin or jeno , like they said something mean and suddenly realize likeeeee ykwim rightt ? 😭😭😭😭😭😭

hope this is okay anon! i am not plus-sized and will not even come close to experiencing what you may have gone through, so i apologise if anything in here is inaccurate. please tell me so i can change it asap! thank you

this is a safe space, don't hesitate to speak out if you need to rant or anything. please remember - you're all beautiful inside and out!!!!!!!!!! dont let anyone dull ur shine!!!!!

warnings: jaemin gives a backhanded compliment, insecurity

with the last click of the camera, you're welcoming more of the camera rather than your boyfriend into your hands, excited to see the product of your outfit today. it was a lucky draw, one that you didn't expect to match but did on a random scour through your wardrobe.

getting ready for the small photoshoot was fun as well, the boys helping you to set up the living room where they cheered you on. your boyfriend was the one to take the photos, skilled at the camera more than anyone in the team.

"just like that, (y/n)!"

"you look good!"

compliments were easily dropped as they all struggled to view the small screen of the camera, where jaemin worked his magic.

"they look great, jaem, thank you! now all we gotta do is... export them..." your smile was still plastered on your face as you remove the SD card, laptop at the ready beside you. by now, the others have scattered off to do their own thing after a high five or a pat to your head, but you don't exactly mind when this was their off-day.

"that outfit looks really good on you, honey," jaemin speaks from over your shoulder where you sat, looking over how the soft light falls over your skin in the pictures, a perfect visit from the setting sun at the right time.

"you think so?" you laugh, looking down at it, "it was honestly a random fit that i put together. a lucky find, if you will."

"yeah, i think if i wore it, everything would just look weird," jaemin laughs, planting a kiss on your forehead.

your eyebrows furrow at that, having heard it one too many times. your parents have brought it up; your friends, in a joke; even total strangers, who thought it was an actual compliment.

"what do you mean by that?"

"hm? oh no- just- you see how these patterns fill up so nicely on your arm? it would crease all over if i wore it. i'd probably just ruin the outfit." jaemin explains with a laugh, unsure of the strain in your voice. he realises his mistake a little too late a second later.

you're not one to rush uploads, but now you wished the photos would transfer faster so you could leave the room as soon as possible. it wasn't an option, though.

"so... d'ya mean my body's only good for filling in the creases in clothes? does it look worse in outfits that isn't this one?" your questions comes out quiet, not wanting the other members to catch on, but your boyfriend is already fumbling with his words that catches the attention of the others.

"no! no- that's not what i meant, love. i was talking about- just how-"

the crestfallen look you give to jaemin breaks his heart and he regrets everything after his initial compliment, hesitation showing in the way he lets you go to his room quietly. it's affected you that you don't even bother taking the laptop, grabbing only your phone to pass the time on.

hours pass and your outfit sticks to your skin uncomfortably, not even bothering to change out of the one thing you thought you could feel confident in. you're not sure whether you should cry, or scream, or stare aimlessly, having heard backhanded compliments like those all the time.

you're outfit's so cute, i could never wear that!

oh, that black suit looks stunning on you! it's great, since i heard it's a slimming colour.

you're so pretty for a plus sized person.

additions, unnecessary words always had to make their way out of people's mouths. why couldn't they just stop at pretty, stunning, cute? why couldn't they stop at one compliment without compensating for something else?

you learned it the hard way, through media and society that everyone is conditioned to equate fatness to being ugly, and you hate, hate it so much that you're so quick to talk yourself down when you see a cute outfit on a slimmer person.

because you know the tables would be switched once you're the one to wear it.

with a sigh, you peel off the outfit that you admired in the mirror a few hours ago, that you gently pat down next to the locket that jaemin gifted you. it was a nice touch - a heart next to your heart patterned top. it was next to the heart you wore on your sleeve too, not nervous once when you dropped your feelings to jaemin.

and with a tight hug, he returned your feelings too, already smelling like how you knew he'd smell like: coffee and vanilla.

a knock drives you out of the faint memory, door pried open gently by the man who'd captured your heart. he lingers at the doorway, clearly uncomfortable.

"look- i-" he gulps, "it was wrong. of me. to say that. i took it too far, and- and i should've just stopped after my first words. i just went on and on with phrases that were just worded so... badly that-"

"y'know, jaemin, you say 'just' a lot when you're nervous," you chuckle, fingers lingering on the belt of your pants. you remove them with ease with a shake to your legs, chucking them across the room as you navigate his place, picking out the sweater and pants you wore before.

standing there in your undergarments, it wasn't anything that jaemin hasn't seen before, but he never wanted something more than what you had now:

a body in its natural form, not covered by clothes. it had all the blemishes and all the imperfections, but it only reinforces jaemin's love for you; when he chose to love you, he chose to love all of you.

jaemin sighs, immediately engulfing you in an embrace that leaves you surprised.

"i'm so sorry. that was so shitty of me."

"thanks for apologising, jaemin. i'm glad you realised your mistake, but, i have to say... it wasn't that bad of a backhanded compliment. i think i've heard worse."

your lover pulls back questionably, "crap, really? i'm sorry they said those things."

jaemin's frown is endearing while he feels all the feelings, soaking in the way your expression turns solemn. you shake your head. "don't be sorry, you weren't the one who said those things."

"but still-"

"i think maybe it hurt more, because it came from you." shrugging, you pat his cheek which brings on a tiny smile. with a peck to the crown of your head, he lays his forehead to yours, cradling all of you into his arms. "i'll do better."

smiling, you lay one on his lips. "i know you will."

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genshingarbage · 3 years

Note

Could I request any boys of your choice where they’ve had an exhausting day and their s/o says they should take a nap on their lap? Thank you!

Cute boi hours again? Yes <3 Sleepy time awe! I am gonna pick a very select few that i think this works well with, so i hope you're okay with the hand picked few ;) - Mod Diluc

Rest My Love.

|| Head Cannons ||

Kazuha/Diluc/Xiao/Kaeya

Kazuha

He was beat, exhausted and aching, every muscle in his body ached like something fierce. But, who ever said the life of a lone wandering samurai was gonna be a breeze? Yea, that's right- no one. Because it sure as hell wasn't. He was use to feeling this way yet somehow it still made him just as grouchy as the first time.

He walked into the small building that was titled as your homestead and yawned; stretching his arms out he heard a few odd bones pop from the pressure, it relieved some of his tension but not nearly enough for it to be actually satisfying. With a huff he removed some of his more heavy going clothing, including his shoes, till he was more loose and relaxed.

He shuffled slowly into the house, trying not to wake you. You were his lover and so him coming to your home was somewhat normal now, but he often was away for large periods of time, and he never liked to disturb you. Specially when you're busy. Which you were, you had your nose deep between the pages of a gripping story written so entrancing like from a book. So much for his first theory that you'd be asleep at this time, huh?

He tried to creep past you as you read, but you wasn't born yesterday. So with a roll of your eyes and a soft exhale from your nose you spoke out. "Kazuha. Welcome home hun." You didn't even bother to turn your head around to him, you knew fully well he was frozen in his steps now, eyes wide like a doe caught in headlights. He blinked a few times before sorting himself back to his normal standing position and chuckling awkwardly, a breif rub to the back of his neck ensued.

"Ah, yea, I'm uh- yea. I'm home, thanks Y/N. I really didn't wanna disturb you there." He spoke softly and with great regret; like he'd just committed an awful crime. You simply closed the book after having bent the tip of the page you were on, as to know where to start off when you return to it, and placed the item down on the small table infront of your sofa. "Kazuha, it's fine... I was only reading a book." You chuckled gently.

"I know, but... it felt wrong to interupt you so abruptly specially when you seemed so into it-" you'd twisted your torso ever so slightly so your eyes could lay on his now, your heart almost broke, he looked absolutely shattered- like all life was drained from him. Just what had this crazy man gotten up to in his absence? "Kazuha- oh my goodness. Look at you! You're about to pass out."

He smiled politely and waved his hand side to side as if dusting your worry back into the wind. "Nah, I'm a lil tired that's all. I'm gonna have a lie down, I'll be right as rain after." He went to go back to making his way to the exit of your living room, that is until you called out ever so gently. "Or well, I wouldn't mind if you rested your head on my lap." A faint blush flushed your cheeks. He turned to face you yet again. Blinking several times over again.

"Really?" He tilted his head almost like a curious puppy, he has no idea how cute he is sometimes. "I mean, sure why not? You've not been home for over a month. I do get lonely ya know, the company would feel nice, and your presence is always warm and welcoming." You smiled sweetly at him and he returned the expression with full earnest. Nodding softly he made his way to the sofa, where you rested, and now reshuffled and organised yourself to get into a more comfy position.

It wasn't long before he was laying on his side with his head nestled into your lap, breathing softly as your hand gently rested adorn his head of hair. "Mmh. You're right, this beats sleeping alone any day." He hummed sleepily to you, by the way his voice was giving out you could tell he was close to succumbing to his slumber already. With a gentle smile still planted across your lips you hushed him softly.

"Shh, rest now. My Kazuha." You began to hum a quaint little lullaby that had him snoring in under three minutes. This man, he works himself so hard, but still, it's one of the reasons you love him so much, the fact he's hard working and never gives in. And you have the comfort in your mind of knowing whenever he gets this tired again, he'll have you here to be by his peaceful sleeping side everytime. Now and forever.

Diluc

The sky was a beautiful orange and red tone, the colours mixed so beautifully, with the white fluffy clouds scattered around too, it looked like a stunning evening. You were sat alone at the dinner table again, your chin resting on your opened palm, your eyelids half shut to block the rays of the last bit of presence from the sun.

The candles had long since burned out and the beautiful sweet honeyed roast you'd prepare with such delicacy and tender care was going cold. Diluc was suppose to be home over thirty-five minutes ago, he promised he'd make it in time for whatever dinner the maids threw together tonight, he wasn't aware you'd taken it upon yourself to lovingly prepare tonight's meal for him.

You couldn't be mad at the man; or hold a grudge for that matter, you knew what type of person he was, you knew he wasn't one for sticking to plans and promises, he simply couldn't be with the work he has, not to mention his little sun down hobby that you became privy too after several years with the crimson haired gentleman. If there was one thing you were grateful for, it was the fact you knew without doubt he truly did love you. And in a way that was enough for you.

It was sundown now and your dinner had long been since tidied up by the maids, with a somewhat solemn look to your face you'd decided to go to bed early that night. Knowing Diluc, he wouldn't be home for hours to come anyway. Your eyes were just starting ache and your eyelids were starting to feel heavy for you now. Breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth softly you let your body sink further into the warm embracing sheets.

Click.

Your eyes slowly opened back up when you heard the all too familiar noise of your bedroom door opening, narrowing your eyes slightly to help adjust to the dim glow of the room, the small aid of illumination being provided solely by your nightstand candle. It wasn't hard to make out who it was however, since his deep red hair practically danced from the slight glow of the flicking flame.

"Diluc." It came out more like a whisper which you never intended for it too, but you were so gripped by tiredness now it was hard to sound more awake at the given circumstances. "Sorry for waking you my dear, wasn't my intention." You hummed softly in response and then watched as best as you could as he removed his attire and shoes, stripping down to just his boxers.

Gripping the band that kept his hair up was the last part, with a tug his hair flew down and waved apart, you kept a watchful eye on him. As it was when his hair was down that he was always at his most tired and vulnerable mental state now. "The maids told me Y/N." He still sounded strict, or at least he was trying his best too. But his voice wavered in every sense of the word.

The bed dipped beside you as his weight was added to the mattress now, a small groan escaping his lips. You knew what he meant, it wasn't a surprise the maids told him you'd prepared the dinner today, you'd just wish they'd not sometimes, to avoid adding more stress to the man's poor ordeals. "It's fine, it was just a small attempt. I'm not exactly the best cook to begin wit-"

The poorly sounding wince from him cut you off, the failed attempt to stifle it and keep it under wraps didn't go unnoticed. You narrowed your eyes at the man beside you in bed now, and then you saw. He was littered with cuts and bruises, they surely must hurt, why didn't he say anything? Scratch that. He never tells you anyway, thinking its better that way. Silly man.

With a gentle huff you shook your head, shuffling your weight and sitting up ever so slightly, your back pressing against the several puffed pillows under you. "Enough of that. Come here darling." It was your turn to sound strict however, and for once he didn't fight back. Your heart tugged at you slightly as you felt the weight shifting around beside you and then were suddenly graced with the feeling of his head nuzzling into your lap.

You took it upon yourself to softly begin to caress his head, letting your hand stroke and massage the man's hair and scalp. The groans and sighs that left him were evidence enough he was in a blissful state right now, your sweet Diluc. Always putting his life on the line to protect those less fortunate than him, when will he learn? That his life matters just as much. Sigh.

You heard a soft mutter from him, something along the lines of 'sorry' and 'dinner'. But he was already taken by the nights calming embrace to be formulating anything coherent now, so you closed your eyes with another soft shake of your head and continued to massage his head. Till both you and your hand laid still, silent, asleep. Whatever he'd done tonight, whatever reason he'd missed dinner, it didn't matter. As long as he loved you it was enough. It always has been, it always will be.

Xiao

The stars twinkled softly an slowly, looking so entrancing from down below, the dark blue sky washing above you with the dazzling twinkles looking like small fire flies dancing around. You stood there, your knee bent slightly as your weight was supported by the banister of the top balcony to Wangshu Inn. Any minute now, you thought to yourself calmly.

And is if on que a sudden and harsh breeze blew past you, followed up with a loud thud. You turned your head ever so slightly, seeing the young looking yaksha lifting back up from his crouch landing position. "Welcome home honey." you said somewhat stone like, to which you got a simple sounding 'Tsk' as response, as he chucked his spear lazily behind him, to which it dissolved away instantly.

You rolled your eyes to the quiet scoff that greeted you back, shaking your head slowly, your eyes went back to focus on the landscape below you from the viewpoint of the balcony. It was so peaceful and beautiful. "How has your day been?" You decided to question him further, all while remaining your focus elsewhere.

"Fine." he responded in short. This type of reply was normal to you now, he wasn't the talkative type, despite having been the first to say to you he loved you. "Well, that's good then." you said back in your normal sweet tone now. You could tell from that tone in his voice he was exhausted, he didn't have to say or do anything, you could just tell.

Thinking it was best to leave now and give him his privacy you turned away from the balcony and began to walk to the exit. "I will let you rest my love, see you soo-"

"Wait."

His voice was louder than its ever been round you, the faint flush on his cheeks was evidence enough he never intended for it to come out so loudly from his own mouth. "Xiao?" you turned back round, seeing him stood there looking like a somewhat lost lamb, it was damn cute.

"S...stay with me, ... please."

His voice, so soft, so sweet, so gentle. You felt your heart crack slightly, your poor adeptus, he must've been rushed off his feet tonight. The dark bags forming under his eyes said all you needed to hear.

Chewing your bottom lip softly you breathed in and then walked over to him slowly. "Xiao..." you whispered his name lovingly, his eyes met with yours and for a brief moment the air left your lungs, the sight of his exhausted face so close to you, actively seeking comfort within you, it was enough to melt the coldest of icebergs.

Letting your hand slip into his with a gentle squeeze, a small smile on your lips you led him down the stairs of the Inn, into your bedroom, a tidy and quaint little sleeping quarter. He needed to rest, he is pushing himself too much, and if you do not take action, he never will.

Climbing onto the bed once you'd abandoned your shoes on the carpet you looked up at him, laying in a relaxing position. The red on his cheeks only flushed deeper and darker, and you couldn't help but laugh softly. Such a lewd mind, oh my, you never expected him to get the wrong idea over a situation like this.

"Xiao- no... not that." you chuckled at his confused expression, he was so alien to the concept of just touch in general now, that to him he sees it so black and white, being close means being intimate, otherwise why get close? So it was up to you to show him the ways of being human again.

You let your hand softly pet and stroke your lap and he raised his brow, but seeing the sudden light in his eyes spark showed you he caught on to what you really were aiming for. So he hesitantly dipped onto the bed next to you, he was tense and his movements were awkward, but he eventually shuffled his head and body to lay down with his head nestled softly into your lap.

"Is this... okay?" he muttered it nervously, like he was scared the slightest movement would shatter everything around him. You looked down at him and gently kissed your fingers, pressing them against his lips in response. "Shh, rest my love, you need it." Just to further add to what you were saying you let your hand gently rub the outer ridge of his ear.

The blush eventually left his cheeks, the tensed muscles finally went lax and his breathing grew heavier and more unguarded, with a pleased hum from your lips you closed your eyes too and began to succumb to the sweet calling of slumber too.

As long as he has you, you will always be there to help[ him, he may be an adeptus, a yaksha, but you? He is just as human as you or anyone else. Wrath filled or not. He is and always will be your sweet little adeptus. Your perfect lover. Your Xiao.

Kaeya

Another late night and you sat cuddled up on the sofa scanning through several paintings, more specifically paintings that you had done over the course of several months. It was a hobby of yours, but with the aid of Albedo giving you tips and throwing you pointers here and there you'd become surprisingly good at it; who would've guessed you'd secretly be an artist in hiding? Not you that's for sure.

It was fun enough to help tide over the unsettling impatience that always started to bubble under your skin at least, specially on nights like this, where Kaeya, your boyfriend, who also happened to be the Calvary Captain for the Knights of Favonius was out at an ungodly late time, dealing with a suspicion of criminal activities, within the borders of Mondstadt.

He never broke his promises to you thus far, of which were he will always return safely home to you, but it never did fully destroy the raging thunder of worry that often seized your mind on a daily, who could blame you? The man was always in such dangerous predicaments. Who knew if this morning, or any morning for that matter, where you kissed him goodbye, would be the last time you ever would see his face when you waved him off?

It isn't his fault you know this, but you do wish that sometimes he would be cut slack, just a little, so you could for once not have to distract yourself with idle glances of your paintings while waiting for his return. If only every now and then Jean, The Acting Grand Master would just let him have a day off-

Click.

You jumped slightly upon hearing the noise of your front door not open, but actually close. Turning your head you saw Kaeya stood there, arms covering his chest in a crossed way, a raised brow prominent as he glared down at you. "How long have you been worrying?" His voice sounded so flat and monotone, almost a hint of exhaustion. Was he growing tired of your over worried nature?

"I... uh. uhm..." You were at a loss for words, how long had you been worrying exactly? Two, three hours now? You were unsure of the answer yourself. He shook his head and sighed out slowly, it was long and drawn out; he must be so tired from his work today, seeing you up at this hour acting like a child probably doesn't help his situation in the least.

You looked down sadly, feeling ashamed and guilty of yourself because you do this oh so often to him, he always prays your in bed, safely tucked up and lost in your own dreams before he gets home, but you never are, you're always awake and worried, your face far from the peaceful look he often daydreams you having.

"It doesn't matter anymore my little petal." He hums softly as he walks around the sofa to get within arms reach, crouching onto his own weight to scoop you up, your mind in shock you let the paintings slip from your grip and pool around the seat you were just in and the floor underneath you. "Whe- Kaeya?"

"Shh, it is time to head to the bedroom." He spoke so matter factually, which left you eyes wide and beet red, to which he glanced down and a smug chuckle slipped from him. "For sleep Y/N." You relaxed instantly, a sigh escaping you. "Unless of course, you want the other thing?" You squirmed, embarrassed beyond belief, he loved to teased you. "Quit it Kaeya!" You pouted at him, to which he just chuckled at lightly, planting a soft kiss on your head.

Once in the bedroom he drops you so you fall and sink into the softness of your mattress and covers, to which he joins you quickly after. Now both in bed he simply huffs as he turns and crawls around before you feel his head find its preferred resting place; your lap. You smile and gently chuckle. "May i?" He asks just a tad bit too late for permission.

"You're already laying there Kaeya, bit late for the formalities now." You roll your eyes and turn to blow the candle out, leaving you both in darkness and silence, just your soft and gentle breathing in unison as you stroke and massage his head, to which he groans gently in delight too. He is so sweet when he sleeps on your lap like this, you feel closer to him now than you ever normally do, unless you involve the factor of intimacy sexually.

Its calming and sweet, and it helps you remember that he will always keep his promise to you,

He will always come home safely.

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shapeofsuffering · 6 years

Text

i hit 50 followers on my sideblog!

#this feels like an achievement tbh?#i started it on jan 20th and honestly its been so calming to do?#if u dont have an aesthetic sideblog and youre considering it - do it u wont regret it #bc sometimes like if im mad or i want to just be calm or something like that then i end up scrolling my own blog?#and it really does help its something about seeing all the nice soft colours together that makes me calm #anyway if ur interested mine is @pinkish-in-colour #this wasnt to self promo it was to just share the acheivement #thoughts

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beccascribbles · 4 years

Text

seijoh and their love language

physical touch

“tooru,” you gasped, feeling warm arms wrap around your bare skin and a mouth press a gentle kiss to the nape of your neck. the water rolled off your body in droplets, and, as you turned to face him, he slipped slightly on the wet floor, catching himself against the wall. this had the added effect of trapping you in front of him. he leant forward, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“hey,” he greeted, mouth splitting open in that grin you loved so much. it was open, honest, one of the truest smiles he had, and reserved for those he was utterly in love with. you were certain you were one of the only people in the world to be on the receiving end of this smile.

“what are you doing?” you giggled, reaching up a hand to brush his hair from his forehead. the water from the shower head had flattened it, plastering the strands to the smooth surface.

“showering with you,” he shrugged, like it was an everyday occurrence, like he hadn’t just snuck in because he missed your touch so much. he reached over to grab the shampoo from the rack, opening the bottle and squeezing out some of it into the palm of his hand. “turn around.”

you turned, and oikawa’s fingers tangled in your hair, massaging the scalp until the shampoo was lathered. he removed the shower from its’ hook, gently guiding your head back to avoid any shampoo going in your eyes as he washed it from your hair. next, he grabbed the conditioner, repeating the process. you smiled at him, hand reaching out to remove his shampoo from the rack.

“your turn,” you declared, squeezing a small amount into your palm. you rose up on your tiptoes slightly, wobbling as you attempted to wash his hair while also balancing. with a soft chuckle, he bent his knees slightly, surprising you at the sudden change in height.

“sorry,” he laughed softly, placing a kiss to your collarbone. “but it’s easier now, right?”

acts of service

iwaizumi can’t help it. his eyes fall on your sleeping form, a soft smile taking over his features as he brushes a finger along your cheek. you stir slightly in your sleep, and he freezes, hand stopping its slow movement away from you. when he is certain you are still sleeping peacefully, he finally moves, slipping from the bedroom and shutting the door behind him with a quiet click.

he knows you’ve had a busy week, working late into the night, and also finding the time to cook dinner most days that week. iwaizumi knows you don’t mind cooking; it’s one of the things you like to do, preparing a meal the two of you can eat together, dinner being the one time in the week where you can really sit down and chat, no distractions.

he grabs the dirty laundry from the basket beside the bathroom, carrying it downstairs where he can start the process of dividing the lights and darks. if you came down to find the white clothes the both of you wore were now a different colour, you would not be happy. his eyebrows furrowed as he held an item of clothing in front of him. it was an odd colour, one that could be considered a mixture of light and dark. taking a chance, he threw it in the dark pile, praying to whoever was listening that his assumption was correct.

switching on the machine went smoothly. iwaizumi wasn’t completely incapable - he had done his own laundry while in america, it was just the added pressure of messing up that made him slightly uncertain. the sound of china rattling and the kettle being switched on alerted him to your presence in the kitchen.

he hovered in the doorway for a moment, watching you as you shuffled around, your hood pulled up over your head. you moved in a daze, reaching up to grab the tea bags and letting out a loud yawn. he stepped forward then, entering the kitchen and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. he let his head rest against yours for a moment before pulling away.

“morning, sleepyhead,” he greeted, reaching up to grab his own mug and placing it down beside yours. “have a nice lie in?”

gifts

another holiday, another gift shop.

matsukawa stepped into a gift shop somewhere in paris already knowing what he wanted to buy, what he had brought for you to commemorate every trip you'd been on together. he flicked through the various keyrings, discarding them with ease.

too tacky. too loud. too large.

he finally settled on a delicate, ornate keyring in the shape of the eiffel tower. it may be basic but it recalled fond memories of the trip. you had eaten lunch in the tower's shadow, had seen it rising above the buildings as you walked down the street. it was the view from your hotel window. therefore, it was perfect.

he paid for it with his limited french, stumbling through phrases, certain he'd messed up the pronunciation when the shop assistant snickered. still, he left the shop with it gift-wrapped and his wallet four euros lighter.

matsukawa presented it to you during your last meal in paris, handing it to you across the table with a grin. at least that had solved the mystery of why he had woken up so early, never one to be out of bed before ten if he didn't have to work.

you handled it with care, twisting it at different angles, the candle light catching it and flickering. a small grin tugged at the corners of your lips and you leaned across the table to press them against his. his hand came up to cup your face, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss. a stern cough caused you to push away, flustered as you peered around the restaurant. laughing, matsukawa laced his fingers with yours.

"so, do you like it?"

"i love it," you replied, leaning forward once again, this time only letting your lips brush against his jaw.

quality time

you could hardly move, squished into the smallest space you could find as you held your breath. the slightest release of air would alert him to your presence in the room, and you wanted to win. if only you could see the timer... you just needed to remain hidden for five minutes, just five, and hanamaki would turn over his tv privileges to you.

the door to the room you were hidden in creaked open, and heard him step into the room. cupboards were opened as hanamaki moved closer to your hiding place. you tried to make yourself smaller, shuffling backwards. your head hit the wood with a sharp crack and you let out a wince.

"y/n?"

his voice was close now, just outside where you were hidden. he opened the door, peering in. for a moment, he didn't see you. you were huddled right against the side, curled up into a ball. then, his head turned to the side. he declared, "found you!"

"does this mean i have to sit and watch your shit?" you grumbled, crawling out and rubbing the rapidly growing bruise on the back of your head.

"well, it certainly doesn't mean i have to sit and watch yours," he beamed, reaching forward and giving your side a poke.

"don't you have jobs to apply for and interviews to attend?" you quipped, flinching slightly when his fingers dug into your side. a gasping laugh escaped your lips as he began to tickle you.

"and don't you have an actual job to do?" he teased, grinning widening at the way you squirmed in his grasp, trying desperately to tickle him back.

physical touch

kyoutani glared at the people around you, reaching out to grab you and tug you back into his chest. his hand found a home on your waist, fingers sliding beneath the material of your top and resting against your warm skin. you looked up at him, eyebrows raised as you waited for an explanation. his other hand reached up to hold your face, thumb and forefinger gripping your chin as he pulled your face towards him. the kiss was short and fierce, a reminder to all those around you that you were his.

"taro, i need to go," you sighed, reaching up to rest a hand against his cheek. he grumbled in response, and you couldn't help the way your eyes rolled ever so slightly. "you know i've got class soon."

"i know," he said, fingers tightening on your waist. your body was warm against his, a welcome distraction and one that he craved. "one more kiss?"

your hand slipped around the back of his head as you leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. kyoutani wasn't satisfied with that, using his hand on your waist to hold you in place and the hand on your face to pull you back in. you surrender to his touch just like you usually did, returning the kiss and pulling away breathless.

"i really need to go," you said, though you were becoming increasingly reluctant to leave. he nodded in response.

"message me when you're done?" he requested, loosening his hold and letting you slip away.

you reached out to give his hand one last squeeze before turning away and throwing over your shoulder, "obviously."

words of affirmation

"i love you," he murmured in the dark, turning to face your sleeping form beside him. your breathing was steady, and he reached out to touch you gently, tracing the lines of your face. he stared down at you in awe, wondering how he could have got so lucky. he let out a deep sigh. "you're so perfect. everything about you. i love it all."

you stirred in your sleep then, moving closer to him and pressing your face against his side. he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead as your eyes cracked open and you peered up at him.

"did you say something, yutaro?" you mumbled, voice raspy from sleep. he blushed then, face feeling hot as he repeated what he had admitted earlier.

"i love you."

"love you too," you murmured sleepily, snuggling further into his warmth. already, your eyes were beginning to close again, sleep pulling you back in.

"i love you so much," he continued, his voice lulling you back to sleep. "i love everything about you, every little thing you do. you're perfect for me in every way. i couldn't ask for a better partner."

a soft snore filled the silence of the room, and he lay back down, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush against his chest. a chaste kiss was placed to the nape of your neck before sleep also claimed kindaichi.

quality time

kunimi stifled a yawn, stretching out on the sofa as he listened to you chat. it was around 1am now, a time when he would usually be asleep. however, your conversation was engaging and he felt like he hadn't been able to just spend time with you.

you were always doing something together, going somewhere, but you were never just alone together, no phones, no tv, just each other. kunimi smiled over at you, reaching forward to rest his hand atop yours. you took it, never breaking your flow of conversation.

“kunimi?”

“hmm?” he questioned, blinking over at you. his movements were slow and it was clear he was tired.

“do you want to go to sleep?” you asked, lifting the hand you were holding with your own and pressing a gentle kiss to the surface, letting it fall back into your lap.

he shook his head, smiling blearily at you. “i like listening to you. we haven’t been like this in a while.”

“i guess we have been busy,” you reasoned, letting your head rest against the back of the sofa. “i missed talking to you, akira.”

he nodded his head, moving closer to you and dropping his head on your shoulder. your free hand brushed through his hair, the movement slow and soothing. kunimi urged, “keep talking.”

that was all the prompting you needed to launch into another story from your day, kunimi’s eyes slowly shutting as your voice eased him to sleep.

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rumblelibrary · 3 years

Note

*whispers* oh, hi!

can I request a little thing with Niki Lauda and his beautiful curls? Maybe Niki and the reader going on a roadtrip together and stoping somewhere for the night? 🥺👀

Bouncy Road Trip [Niki Lauda x Reader]

Words Count: 1.6k

Author’s note: It is my first time venturing into Niki’s mind, I hope I did him and your request right ❤️

“Well, it seems a bit late to think again” he remarked, as always his character would strike, even with you.

You chuckled, too used to his antics to really get mad about it.The two of you decided to go to the next race by car, something easy, a road trip to get there directly, enjoy the city, the food, have time to study the car and the track while others are still enjoying the whole set of parties and interviews that followed the race that just ended.

“You were happy to miss Hunt’s drunk hugs” you told him and he responded with a little shake of his shoulders, a parody of a shiver.You came to the idea that he enjoyed to play this rivalry thing way more than he admitted.

It was something that gave him an edge, something to joke about easily in order to keep his focus on the cars and the changes he wanted to do.You got into the car, you’d drive first because he was just out of the race and wasn’t up to do it again.You were hyped to do the road trip, to be together in such a small space, to be allowed to be so close for such a long time.

You put on your favourite radio station, settled comfortably your seat and wore your sunglasses.

Road trip mood: on.

The sad part was how Niki road trip mood was: nap.

He was rightfully tired after the race, after the nervous days that came before it, but you couldn’t help to feel a bit upset about it.It was typical Niki, reasonable priorities over feelings, he probably didn’t even suspect all those expectations you set up for such a small event.So you drove quality, enjoyed the music and the soft breeze, you looked at him from time to time as he snored lightly, his soft curls unruly moving over his face.

Focus, the road is ahead.

After a couple of hours you felt a warm hand cover yours changing the gear.

“If you want to kill this car you could just run into a tree and make it quicker” Niki grumbled sleepily straightening his posture cracking his neck from side to side.

“Where are we?” He asked as he picked the map rubbing his eyes with his hand as you pointed at it on the map and you smirked

“Good morning anyway sleepyhead” you said shaking your head lightly.Usual Niki.He studied the map silently picking a bottle of water you stacked on side to have a sip, his unruly curls bouncing lightly catching your eyes once more.

“You have seen the race, didn’t you?”You were surprised by the question “of course”

“Do you think he deserved it? Honest to God, I just need an honest opinion of somebody that is utterly deficient of keeping a car for good”

You let out a breathy chuckle staring ahead, it was a compliment and you knew it, it was just his way of complimenting you, to tell you that he knows you have no bias.

“I think he didn’t, but around the beginning he did got the best of your attention” you say after a moment “I mean, he provokes you always and your starts are always a bit off, you’re not in the right mind, I can see how you change along the race and then you show your true colours”

He listens and doesn’t add anything.Maybe you have offended him, maybe not, he rarely lets you know.“At the next gas station let’s stretch our legs a bit, I am hungry” he says and you nod quietly.

When at the station you went to the bathroom first as Niki brought a couple of sandwiches and some snack, along with more water.

“Liquorice, for real?” You ask him looking inside of the bag

“So you can avoid smoking and pestering the car and your lungs” he groans back as he ate quietly looking at you.You look at him as there’s no aggression from him, it is just Niki worrying for your health, in Niki’s way.He is still upset about coming second, again. It was starting to rub him in the wrong way.

“You know, I have seen there’s this exhibition in the local museum, we should see that, on a free afternoon while the mechanics apply the changes you like, I read that the museums here are open until 10 pm in summer”

He looks at you and nods slowly “Only if you play the guide”

“Sounds like a deal then” you smirk and he makes half of a smile, he is content.You move close to him as your hand moves toward those unruly curls that scream to be touched, but he stands up throwing the trash in the closest bin.

The second half of the drive before your stop at the motel is on Niki, but you can’t sleep. Sure you put on your sunglasses and got nuzzled on the passenger seat but you couldn’t look away from him, everything was perfect: from the relaxation of driving at a comfort speed to the engine singing for him, the smoothness of the drive made it feel unreal, like you weren’t even moving but you were only still. You moved up taking your book, you opened it up, it was a poetry book but one of your favourite female authors, you leaned your back comfortably as you started reading. Niki looked at you moving his beautiful long fingers over the radio lowering the volume.

“Read out loud”

You were surprised by such a request, but you did.He listened, he was passive but focused on those words letting those unroll over him.You could see his mind was feeling guilty, anger for losing soon turning into that quiet silence he pulled himself into, the guilty one.He had high standard for himself and for others, but on himself he was the hardest and, most of the times, the cruelest.

The sun was going down and you put the book away staring at him once more, you leaned in, his eyes showing that sad frustration and your hand moved on its own mean over an action you have been craving throughout the day slowly reaching for his head and digging your fingers into his hair. A soft breath of relaxation left his lips, your fingers trailing through the bottom of his head just above his neck and up again.

He rolls lightly his shoulders not commenting your action, but he is clearly enjoying it. So you keep going, you brush your fingers slow and nice, you pull the curls a bit only to make more room to your fingers, you move your hand up on his temple and slowly scratch on the side of his temple going back into the curls.He licks his lips lightly relaxing over your attentions. The radio is still low, nobody is letting out a sound.

“Fuck”

He curses as he yanks the wheel suddenly and you almost get thrown on the back of the car by the sudden motion.He almost missed the exit to go to your motel.You settle yourself back in place quietly, bend down to recollect your book that flew on the car floor.

Once he parked Niki was the first to leave the car to collect your bags, you leaned your back on the seat staring in front of you nibbling on the bottom of your lip. Maybe it wasn’t the right moment, you never knew with Niki. Maybe you fucked it up.

Once you settled into your room you got some room service, the tv was on some old 50’s film in black and white, Niki digging on some chicken salad finally in his comfortable night clothes and a night vest.You were used to the silences, you were used to share those with him, but sometimes it was gutting, you kept wondering if you messed up. If you did something wrong or what was the thing you did wrong. Your own insecurities eating you alive. Once he finished his dinner you showered putting on some night clothing and resting on the big bed beside him as you watched the movie.Then he slowly moved down resting his head on your lap.He looked up at you from that position, the blue light of the screen the only source of illumination.You stare back at his eyes moving your head on side with a little smirk, it looks like somebody enjoyed it back in the car.

But you don’t tease him, you learned not to, and you just go back to that process. He closes his eyes enjoying it. Your hands also enjoying to be back to unruly those wild curls he always tamed, the freedom to be able to do something so simple and so intimate.

“You know I need you right?” He says softly, not even opening one eye, you keep touching his curls, but this time you let him be the one without confirms.He opened his eyes as he slowly looked up at you raising onto his arms.

“You’re my soft side, you’re the art and the beauty and the poetry. I cannot be that, I am not that, but you are, and you, you do me good, you do me better, make me better”

You smile, because he never speaks up, but when he does, he just blows you away.You lean in for a well earned kiss, your hand slowly slipping behind his neck as he pushes you down on the bed.

Tags: @cazzyimagines @that-stupid-head-tilt-thing

Let me know if anybody wants to be added and I will 💕

#niki lauda fanfiction #niki lauda x reader #niki lauda rush #niki lauda headcanons #niki lauda rush 2013 #request

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hrina · 4 years

Text

Something Strange

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: R WORD COUNT: 6.3k+ REQUESTED: no

uhhhh hi. so. this is my (first ever) halloween fic, ft. infuriatingly cocky ghostbuster!harry. i really hope you guys enjoy it, and just like every other writer on this godforsaken site, i’d love to hear any feedback that you might have. ok im done now lol go forth and read :)

warnings: cursing, brief nsfw content, a nasty habit of jumping to conclusions, and harry being an asshole with a secret heart of gold.

~*~

October 2nd, 2021

Your attention is first caught by the massive, obnoxiously-coloured truck parked in Mindy and Gerald’s driveway. The entire vehicle is a shade of navy blue, though its sophistication is ruined by the neon green bubble lettering streaked across its doors.

Spooked? Call Styles’ Scares!

Beneath that, there’s a promise painted in bright pink:

Lasting results or your money back!

“What the hell?” you mutter.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and exit your car, momentarily forgetting about the groceries sitting in the trunk. Mindy and Gerald are standing on their porch, absorbed in a light-hearted conversation. When they catch sight of you trekking across the lawn, they smile brightly and offer up a pair of welcoming waves.

“Hi, there!” you call, shoving your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. “What’s all this?”

“Good afternoon, dear!” Mindy replies. She quickly descends the front steps, meeting you halfway and enveloping you in a tight hug. “How are you? It’s been a while since we last spoke.”

“You can drop in whenever you want,” you say, chuckling. “It’s not like I live very far away.”

“How have you been?” Gerald follows his wife, steadily making his way off the porch. “How’s school?”

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “Things are picking up, now, but I’m trying my best to stay on top of them.”

You toss your thumb over your shoulder, gesturing to the bright pickup truck parked in their driveway. (It really is ugly, you think. Probably one of the ugliest vehicles that you’ve ever had the displeasure of perceiving.)

“What’s going on?”

“Oh!” Mindy lifts her hands to her mouth, gazing at you with wide, serious eyes. “Our house is haunted.”

You balk. “Pardon me?”

“I know, I know,” she sighs, shaking her head. “It sounds silly. I didn’t believe it at first either, but—something keeps knocking our picture frames off the wall. And the lights! They start flickering at random intervals throughout the day.”

“Are you sure it’s not just rats?” you joke.

Gerald, who has now joined you on the lawn, holds up his hand solemnly. “We tried using traps, but they haven’t been touched at all.”

“Exactly.” Mindy nods, turning back to you. “We’re already worried about Joseph’s wedding next week, so one of the ladies at the community centre recommended Harry. That same day, Gerald gave him a call, and that was the end of it.”

“Who’s Harry?” you ask, brows knitting together in confusion.

“Er—” A deep voice sounds from behind you. “I am.”

When you turn around, you come face-to-face with one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen. He’s got mossy green eyes, dark pink lips, and brown hair that curls around his temples and behind his ears. Smooth skin stretches out over high, chiseled cheekbones and a sharp jaw. He’s wearing a pair of light-wash jeans and matching white sneakers. A black hoodie covers his broad chest; upon taking a closer look, you note that the two front strings have been tied into a picturesque little bow.

Mindy wastes no time, introducing the two of you immediately. When Harry holds out his hand for you to shake, you don’t hesitate.

“Did you want my card?” he asks, peering at you curiously.

You study his expression. Beneath his seemingly sincere exterior, arrogance runs wild and unchecked. You know this man. You’ve met him a hundred different times under a hundred different circumstances, and you’ve learned to recognize a lost cause when you’re staring it square in the face.

“Not at all.” You shoot him a fake smile. “I’m just the neighbour.”

“Right.” His lips twitch. He steps back, rolling his shoulders and lifting his chin in the direction of the house. “Well, I should probably get to work. It was nice meeting you, babe.”

Your nose wrinkles as the pet name sinks in.

When you turn back around to resume your conversation with Mindy and Gerald, they’re gone. Your eyes bounce to the right, where you find them guiding Harry up the porch steps. Mindy has one hand on his bicep whilst gesturing animatedly with the other. Gerald opens the front door and holds out his arm, welcoming Harry inside.

You scoff, shaking your head in disdain.

“Ghosts aren’t real,” you mumble as you make your way back across the lawn. The trunk of your car squeaks when you pull it open, and plastic bags rustle as you gather your groceries into your arms.

Ghosts aren’t real. And Harry is obviously a scammer, based on…well, based on everything. The tacky design on his truck. The unprofessional wardrobe. The self-assuredness emanating from every cell in his body. Babe.

But Mindy and Gerald truly believe that their home is haunted. Trying to change their minds without a shred of physical proof is pointless. You blow out a soft sigh, accepting the grim reality of your situation.

Your neighbours are gullible, trusting people. And for the next few days—whether you like it or not—Harry is here to stay.

October 5th, 2021

You’re approximately two seconds away from chucking your textbook against the far wall.

You’ve been trying to finish this chapter for the past hour. And though you pride yourself on being tolerant when it comes to petty annoyances, your patience is wearing thin. A quick glance out of your bedroom window reveals Harry’s hideous pickup truck parked—yet again—in Mindy and Gerald’s driveway.

You roll your eyes. Of course.

The piercing, raucous whirring starts up again; you release a frustrated yell, slamming your book shut and leaping off your bed. You’re muttering obscenities under your breath as you stalk down the hall, stopping briefly to slide on a pair of fuzzy slippers. When you yank your front door open, the chilly autumn air settles into your bones.

The clamour grows louder as you stomp across your shared lawn. When you knock on Mindy and Gerald’s door, the commotion is nearly unbearable. A few seconds go by, during which your presence remains unacknowledged; you rap once again on the wood, hoping that the sound will be conspicuous enough amidst all of the background noise.

Sure enough, everything goes quiet. Your shoulders slump with relief just as the door opens. Mindy greets you with a friendly smile.

“Hi, dear,” she says kindly. “What can I do for you?”

“Hi.” You force yourself to mirror her affable expression, hoping that she can’t see the pained exhaustion brewing in your eyes. “Could I just—could I speak with Harry, please? It won’t take long.”

“Of course.” She nods before peering at you anxiously. “Don’t tell me that you’ve got ghosts, too.”

“No.” You shake your head. Ghosts aren’t real, you want to say, but you hold your tongue. “No, I just—I just need to have a quick word with him, that’s all.”

“Alright. I’ll go fetch him.” She turns around and totters away.

You hear her call his name, followed by the telltale sound of shuffling. After a few long moments, he’s there, leaning against the doorway with a bemused look on his face.

“Evening, babe,” he says coolly. “What’s up?”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap, folding your arms over your chest.

Harry’s eyebrows shoot upward. He hadn’t expected you to greet him with such animosity, you suppose. His outfit is nearly identical to that of the other day, save for the red bandana perched atop his head. He buries his fingers into the pockets of his jeans, shrugging nonchalantly and pinning you with a blasé, unimpressed gaze.

“Noted,” he says. The corners of his lips curl up into a crooked smirk as he repeats, “What’s up?”

“You need to keep it down,” you say flatly. “I don’t know what kind of fake ‘exorcism’ bullshit you’re trying to pull off, but the noise is driving me insane. I need to study.”

“‘Fake’?” Harry parrots. “You don’t believe in spirits?”

“No,” you deadpan. “I don’t.” You narrow your eyes, studying the subtle movements of his face. “And if I had to take a wild guess, neither do you.”

“Really,” he says, chuckling softly. It isn’t a question.

“Really.”

Harry watches you, tickled by your obvious exasperation. “I get the feeling that you don’t like me very much.”

“Look at that,” you say, rolling your eyes. “He does have a brain.”

“You’re so judgmental.” He laughs, shaking his head. “How can you dislike me when you barely even know me?”

“I know enough,” you reply, scowling. “I know that you’re a fraud who takes advantage of people and their fears. And for what? Just so that you can take home a paycheque at the end of the day?”

“Ouch.” Harry feigns injury, placing a large hand over his heart. “That hurts, babe.”

There it is again. Babe.

“You know what?” Your nostrils flare. “Forget this—it’s like trying to explain rocket science to a toddler.”

He grins. “Yeah, I suppose. I’m much cuter, though, don’t you think?”

You scoff, pedalling backward. “In your dreams.”

His delight only seems to grow when your retort sinks in. You whip around, descending the porch steps and storming back toward your house. When you chance a glance over your shoulder, Harry is still standing in the doorway, a shit-eating smile stretched wide across his cheeks.

“Just keep it down, okay?” you call irritably.

He raises two fingers to his temple in a mock-salute, and you march away without another word.

October 8th, 2021

“You’re sure?”

You laugh. “Yes, Mindy, I’m sure. I promise.”

“Alright,” she assents, blowing out a quiet sigh through the phone. “I went grocery shopping today, so our cupboards are fully stocked—help yourself to anything you’d like. Also, when you flush the downstairs toilet, the water may look like it’s rising, but it goes down after a second or two.”

“Noted.” You snicker. “Anything else?”

“That’s it,” she says. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem,” you reply. “Tell Joseph and Amy that I said congratulations, yeah?”

“We will! See you later, dear.”

“See you later.”

October 9th, 2021

When Mindy and Gerald get back tomorrow afternoon, you’re going to wring their necks.

Agreeing to housesit whilst they celebrated their son’s wedding a few cities away? Sure. Fine. You had a long night full of nothing planned—sitting in front of the television, munching on some snacks, relaxing for the evening and trying to forget about all of the schoolwork waiting for you at home. You were in the middle of watching a Golden Girls rerun when, suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

“Coming!” You stood, setting your bowl of popcorn aside. The knocking continued as you made your way to the front entrance, wiping your buttery fingers against the dark leggings covering your thighs.

“I’m coming,” you said exasperatedly. You opened the door, ready to shoo away whoever it was—a salesperson, probably.

Instead, you came face-to-face with Harry.

And now, you’re here—slumped on the couch, angrily shovelling popcorn into your mouth. You keep your gaze trained on the television, trying your hardest to avoid the man who is setting up his “equipment” in the middle of the room.

“Can’t you do this in the kitchen?” you deadpan.

He flicks a switch on his machine—it looks an awful lot like a standard centrifuge. What a fraud.

“Spirit energy’s strongest in here,” he grunts. His knees scuff against the carpeted floor.

A derisive laugh falls from your lips. “Mindy and Gerald aren’t here—you can drop the act.”

Harry glances up at you, his pretty green irises glimmering. “What act?”

You roll your eyes and look away, fixing your attention back on the grainy screen.

Neither of you say anything for the next few minutes; tension builds, saturating the air and making it hard for you to breathe. Eventually, Harry breaks through the awkward silence. You want to scream.

“Er—” he starts, expectant. “Do you mind stepping out for a second? I need the room.”

Your nostrils flare. “Excuse me?”

“I need the—”

“I heard you,” you say, sitting up straight. “You don’t need anything. What the hell are you playing at?”

“I’m not quite sure what you mean, babe.” His tone is genuine, but you can sense the mirth simmering just beneath the surface. His lips twitch, and your frustration boils like water over a stove.

“Stop calling me that,” you snap, folding your arms across your chest. “And stop playing dumb. Other people might put up with your pseudo-spooky bullshit, but I won’t. Ghosts aren’t real!”

The lights go out.

You gasp, straining your eyes in an attempt to regain your bearings. Slowly, blurry shapes and shadows materialise in front of you. You fumble around for your phone, picking it up and tapping the screen. A moment later, the device’s flash lights up the room. You shine it from side to side, eventually settling on Harry, who is looking up at the ceiling in complete and utter bewilderment.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “Now you’ve done it.”

“Done what?” you squawk, glaring at him. “The power went out. Big deal.”

The lights flicker fleetingly, and then the room is dark again. Your eyes drift over to Harry; he’s smirking.

“This isn’t a ghost,” you say stubbornly, waving your phone around. The bright light bounces across the walls before you steady yourself, positioning the beam back on him. He stands, sinking his hands into the deep pockets of his sweatpants.

“And how would you know?” he teases, cocking one eyebrow challengingly.

“Because,” you scoff. “Ghosts aren’t real.”

Something crashes to the floor. You yelp in surprise, your head snapping to the right. When you shine your light in the direction of the noise, you find a shattered picture frame lying on the ground.

“What the fuck?” Harry murmurs, advancing toward the mess.

“Careful!” you say, holding up your hand. He stops in his tracks, peering over at you in confusion. “There’s glass, idiot,” you explain, climbing to your feet. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

He shoots you a crooked smile. “You do care.”

“I don’t.” Your response is curt. “I just don’t feel like driving you to the hospital so that they can remove fragments from your foot.”

Harry chuckles.

You sigh, squinting at the fallen frame. “We can clean it up when the lights come back on,” you say, mostly to yourself. “I don’t want to risk anything.”

He nods and yawns, stretching his arms out above his head. “Suit yourself, babe.”

“The next time you call me that, I’m going to—”

“What?” he asks, padding over to the sofa. You watch him approach with a deep scowl on your face. He collapses onto the couch, slouching and spreading his legs obnoxiously wide. “You gonna beat me up or something?”

You shake your head in disbelief, stepping away from him. “You’re a piece of shit.”

“So you say,” he replies, unbothered.

“You’re so—”

You break off, producing an angry noise in the back of your throat. Harry winks at you; in response, you whip around and storm away, carving out a path from the living room to the kitchen.

You shine the light from your phone across the cupboards, making a beeline for the fridge. When you pull it open, the cold compartment is dark. Squinting, you reach for one of the many water bottles stacked on the top shelf.

Stupid Harry, with his stupid smile and his stupid eyes and his stupid attitude and his stupid bogus business. You can’t believe that Mindy and Gerald were naïve enough to fall for his bullshit. You need to have a long talk with them when they get back, you think—to ensure that they never swallow a pill this big ever again.

“Thirsty?”

You nearly jump out of your skin, pointing your phone toward the kitchen’s exit. Harry is standing there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest. You bring one hand up to your sternum, trying to calm your racing heart.

“Jesus Christ,” you hiss, shaking your head. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He snickers lowly. You turn your attention back to the fridge, grabbing a water bottle and uncapping it quickly. Through the darkness, Harry watches you gulp down the cool liquid; you pretend not to notice.

“Can I help you?” you finally ask, wiping your mouth with the heel of your palm.

“No.” He shrugs. “Just…looking, I guess.”

“That’s creepy,” you reply flatly. He laughs.

“May I steal a bottle?” he says, padding across the tiles. “I’m parched.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek. “I—sure. Whatever.”

And though you try, you can’t seem to tear your gaze away from him. He hums as he opens up the fridge, leaning forward to get a better look inside. You play with the hem of your sweater, standing behind him awkwardly. When he peers over his shoulder, you quickly look away, feigning interest in the marble countertop next to the sink.

“Er—” he starts. He fixes you with an inquisitive look, glancing down at the device in your hand. “Would you mind? I can’t see anything.”

“Don’t you have your own?” you ask.

“Yeah, but you’re already holding yours. Come on.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

You draw nearer, lifting your phone and shining its flash into the fridge. Harry hums, plucking a water bottle off the top shelf with a satisfied smile. When he turns to face you, a puff of air catches in your throat; he’s awfully close, his torso brushing almost imperceptibly against yours.

You stare up at him, stunned. There’s a small mole beneath the left corner of his mouth. Part of you—an insignificant, microscopic part—fights the urge to reach out and run your thumb over the mark.

“I’m sorry for calling you a piece of shit,” you blurt.

He inhales deeply, chest expanding and fitting a bit more firmly against your own.

The contact snaps you out of your trance. You retreat, backing up against the counter to maintain your balance. Harry clears his throat and glances away.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice hoarse.

Unable to find the right words, you simply nod.

The two of you stand there for a long moment, sinking into a pool of uncomfortable silence. Just when you think that you’re going to choke on the invisible tension, a faint buzz resonates through the air. Less than a second later, the power returns, illuminating the kitchen in a wash of warm, brilliant light.

“Thank God,” you mutter. You shut the flash on your phone, sliding the device beneath the waistband of your leggings.

Harry blinks rapidly, disoriented. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.

He waves your question away. “No, it’s—it’s nothing.”

And you don’t really feel like pressing the subject, so you let it go. A tired sigh falls from your mouth as you scan your surroundings.

“Help me find a broom,” you tell him. “We need to sweep up the glass in the other room.”

His lips twitch. “What’s the magic word?”

There he is. The same insufferable man who has been pushing your buttons all week. You scowl, shooting him a displeased glare.

“Forget it.” You drag your fingers down the left side of your face. “I’ll do it myself.”

~*~

“You sure you don’t want my help?” Harry calls, kicking his feet up onto the sofa.

You grunt, crouching next to the shattered glass on the floor. “Positive.”

The broom and dustpan that you’ve acquired from the laundry room are old and frail, but you suppose that they’ll get the job done. You set the dustpan down on the ground, wrapping your fingers around the broom’s handle and trying to maneuver it in an efficient way. It’s no easy feat, but eventually, you manage to create a small, compact pile of shards. Gingerly, you reach for the picture frame, plucking it up from the ground and setting it off to the side. Next, you take your time sweeping all of the fragments into the dustpan, inspecting the floor for any lingering bits.

“Struggling over there?” Harry asks.

You grit your teeth.

“No,” you counter in a matter-of-fact tone. “I think I got it all, actually. No thanks to you.”

You throw the last part over your shoulder, coupling it with an accusatory frown. Harry holds up his hands in surrender, suppressing his amusement.

“Shouldn’t you be exorcising spirits?” you ask. Sarcasm drips from your words.

He chuckles. The couch squeaks as he shuffles around; a moment later, the sound of approaching footsteps reaches your ears. You stiffen when he stops next to your squatted form.

“To be quite honest,” he begins, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice, “I’m having a much better time watching you.”

“Creepy,” you say. “Again.”

He laughs, lowering himself to his knees. In the periphery of your vision, you watch him pick up the abandoned picture frame, turning it around and studying the photograph inside. His cheeks lift with the slope of a familiar smile, but somehow, this one is different from the others that you’ve witnessed.

It’s real. Sincere.

“Nice, don’t you think?” Harry asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

He extends his arm, revealing the photograph. Mindy and Gerald’s beaming faces stare up at you, a balance of bright grins and crinkled eyes. Subconsciously, your lips curl upward, and you take the frame from Harry’s hands.

“Yeah,” you murmur, running your fingertips over the photo. “They look happy.”

“How long have you known them?” he asks. There’s no malice behind the question.

“Since I moved in,” you say absentmindedly, admiring the ornate frame around the picture. “A few years, now.”

He hums in response. “They talk about you a lot.”

“All good things, I hope.” You cast a wry look in his direction.

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah. They look out for you, it seems.”

“I try to look out for them, too.” You sit back on your haunches, groaning quietly. “Which is why I was surprised that they didn’t come to me when they first thought their house was ‘haunted’.”

Your intonation changes on the last word; you still don’t believe that your neighbours are being plagued by spirits, despite the plethora of peculiarity that you’ve witnessed tonight.

“Maybe they didn’t want to worry you,” Harry suggests.

You roll your eyes. Even now, he refuses to drop the act.

“Sure,” you say. “So, hiring a spirit exterminator—or whatever you pretend to be—was a better move?” You snort softly, climbing to your feet. “How much are they paying you, anyway?”

He purses his lips. “They’re not.”

You freeze.

A beat of silence drags out, during which you swallow your shock. You clear your throat and lift your chin, staring down at Harry banally.

“You’re lying.”

“Nope.”

“You are!” you insist. A short, incredulous laugh tumbles off your tongue. “You are one hundred percent fucking with me.”

“I’m afraid not,” he says.

“Your truck, though...” you say. “‘Lasting results, or your money back’?”

“I’ve got to make it look legitimate, don’t I?” He smirks. “But it’s cute that you remembered.”

Your eyes lock with his, and suddenly, it’s almost impossible to breathe. His gaze is deep, open, and honest. Your lips part, but no sound comes out. Instinctively, your legs carry you a few paces back, veering toward the sofa. You plop down onto the plush cushions, clutching the picture frame tightly between your fingers.

“Then, why—?” you break off, shaking your head. “Why would you—?”

“Peace of mind,” Harry shrugs, still rooted to his spot on the floor. “Ever heard of the placebo effect?”

“You admit it, then,” you say, sitting up straight. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

He nods, blinking languidly. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“So,” you start, trying to make sense of the situation, “you let them believe that you’re actually cleansing the house—for free, too—just to—?” You glance around the room, searching for the right words. “—just to put them at ease?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s…”

Sweet. Thoughtful.

“…ridiculous.”

Harry chuckles. “Thanks.”

“I—” You hesitate, depositing the photograph next to you on the couch. “This whole time, I thought you were just…”

“A con?”

You bring your fingers up to your mouth, nodding silently and studying him with big, rounded eyes.

He shrugs.

“I mean, I never really got the chance to explain myself. You’d already made up your mind about me, hadn’t you? So, I thought I’d just let you stick with your assumptions—it didn’t bother me much.”

“I’m a horrible person,” you say, mostly to yourself.

Harry laughs, shaking his head. “No, you’re not. You’re just a bit judgmental, that’s all.”

“You’re right.” You nod again, bowing your head in shame. “I am. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, babe, really.”

You stand abruptly, abandoning your spot on the sofa.

“I should finish up,” you state, embarrassed beyond belief. Harry watches you closely as you approach. You crouch down next to him, reaching for the dustpan with shaky hands. A few small shards of glass are littered at the brink of the collector; you nudge them away from the edge, trying to be as careful as possible.

“Ow!” you suddenly hiss, retracting your arm quickly. You twist your wrist, fixing your attention on a thin cut engraved into the pad of your index finger.

“What happened?” Harry asks, leaning forward.

You shake your head, waving away his worries. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just got nicked, that’s all.”

“Let me see,” he requests, holding out his own hand.

You pause, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and stealing a quick glance at his face. His expression is concerned, but neutral. Your hesitation is silly, you think—he may be a bit of a jackass, but he’s not going to hurt you. You’ve already condemned him once before, and you were wrong.

You don’t want to make that mistake again.

After a brief moment, you give in, sliding your knuckles into his open palm.

“It’s alright, really,” you say, speaking around the lump in your throat. “The piece was tiny—it hardly broke the surface.”

Harry inspects the laceration closely, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

It’s not that serious, you want to tell him, but you refrain from letting the words escape. Part of you is enjoying the way your hands fit together so perfectly. You don’t want it to end—not yet.

“You’re bleeding a bit, babe,” he announces faintly, brows cinched in concentration.

“I am?” You try to tug your arm back, but he keeps a firm grip on your wrist. A low, confused noise echoes in the back of your throat; Harry peers up at you, his features unreadable.

“It’s just a spot,” he murmurs. “Let me.”

And before you can say or do anything else, he’s taking your finger past his lips and giving an easy, gentle suck.

You squeak.

The sound snaps Harry out of his trance; he releases your hand and recoils hastily. You exhale, driving out the stale air gathered in your lungs. When you peek up at him from beneath your lashes, he’s already watching you, shoulders taut with anxiety.

“Sorry,” he stammers. His nostrils flare. “That was weird—sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say, shaking your head. “Er…thanks.”

“No worries.” He swallows.

“Alright.”

Awkwardly, you wipe your clammy palms against your thighs. Harry seems to be looking at everything except for you; his gaze flits to the ceiling, then to the couch, then to the floor. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek and push yourself up off the ground. The room is painfully quiet as you slowly slink back toward to the sofa.

“I should probably put this somewhere safe,” you mumble, picking up the forgotten picture frame.

Warm air floats over the nape of your neck. You gasp and spin around, nearly toppling over in your haste. Harry’s hands find your shoulders, steadying you and crowding you closer to his chest. You glance up at him; your shallow breaths mingle together in the narrow space, noses only inches apart.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice no higher than a gruff whisper. “Tell me. Please.”

In response, you fumble for one of his hands, grappling at his wrist; he loosens his hold on your arms, confused but willing. He’s motionless as you lift his knuckles up to your mouth. You glance down, tilting your head to the side and studying them carefully. Harry says nothing when you press a soft, feathery kiss to the pad of his index finger.

But then you’re dipping the tip of the digit between your lips, and suddenly, he’s undone.

“Fucking—”

He grabs your face in his palms and seals his mouth to yours.

The two of you stagger backward, tumbling onto the couch. Mindy and Gerald’s picture frame slips from your grasp, landing on a neighbouring cushion with a faint thud. Reflexively, your legs part; Harry takes his rightful place between them, slanting his body accordingly. When he applies the faintest hint of pressure, you moan.

“Fuck.” He draws back, his warm breath wafting over your chin. “Don’t.”

“‘Don’t’ what?” you ask, puzzled.

He shakes his head. “Don’t make those noises. It’s—you’re—I’m—”

He curses quietly and reaches for one of your hands. You allow him to guide your palm lower, inhaling sharply when you feel the slight bulge protruding from his trousers. Instinctively, your fingers close over the subtle ridge of his cock. His shoulders stiffen, and his eyes squeeze shut.

“You’re hard,” you murmur, as though it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Not fully.” He swallows. “But I’m getting there.”

“Because of me?” you ask, peering up at him innocently.

“Yeah.” Harry expels a wobbly, disbelieving laugh. “Yeah, babe—because of you.”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as the familiar moniker falls from his mouth. He notices your unusual reaction, mouth curling into teasing smirk.

“What?” he says, lifting one eyebrow. “No nagging, this time? I thought you hated that nickname.”

You grip the collar of his sweater and give a gentle tug, guiding him down for another kiss. When the two of you finally break apart, you shrug. “It’s growing on me.”

He smiles.

“Do you—?” you pause, pursing your lips. The question sounds silly—presumptuous, even. Rather than finishing your sentence, you lift your chin, gazing up evenly into Harry’s green eyes and declaring, “I think I want to sleep with you.”

His cheeks dimple with a wide grin. “Is that so?”

You nod.

“Right, then.” He kisses your nose and pulls away. “There’s a condom in my wallet, but…I may or may not have left it in my truck.”

You groan, allowing your head to fall back against the sofa with a heavy thump. Harry chuckles at your theatrics. After a brief moment of contemplation, you compose yourself and sit up quickly.

“That works, actually,” you say, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Grab your wallet, and then we can go to my place. I don’t think my neighbours would be very happy if we fucked on their couch.”

He laughs, climbing eagerly to his feet and shooting you a smug wink. “You got it, babe.”

October 10th, 2021

It’s nearly half past noon when you step out onto the porch the next day. You yawn, squinting up at the sun shining brightly in the sky. There are no clouds in sight; the slight chill of the autumn air tickles your exposed arms. You tug on the waistband of your sweatpants, keeping the material seated firmly on your hips.

“Good morning, dear!”

You jump, head snapping in the direction of a familiar voice. Mindy and Gerald are sitting on their veranda, nursing twin cups of coffee and looking awfully cozy. Gerald smiles at you, folding up his newspaper and setting it on his lap.

“Good morning!” You wave before re-evaluating your words. “Well, it’s technically past twelve, so good afternoon.”

Mindy laughs.

“How was the wedding?” you ask, approaching the side of your deck. You lean against the thin metal railing, combing your fingers through your messy hair. “I wasn’t expecting you to be back this soon.”

“We woke up early,” Mindy explains. “And the wedding was fabulous. Amy wore the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?” You grin. “Do you have any pictures?”

“Of course! Just let me run inside and grab my phone—”

“Mornin’,” a gruff voice says from behind you.

You gasp and spin around, bringing a hand to your chest. The sight laid out before you has your heart speeding up, galloping wildly and battering against the confines of your ribs.

Harry’s wearing that same hoodie from last night. Your gaze trails lower—he’s also sporting a pair of grey boxers and white socks. There’s a mug nestled in each of his large hands, his spindly fingers wrapped around the handles comfortably. Your eyes lock with his sleepy ones, and your breathing hitches in your throat.

“Morning,” you whisper, unable to muster up anything louder.

“I—” Harry clears his throat, stepping closer and extending his left arm. “I, er, took the liberty of making us some tea. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, it’s—” You swallow as you accept one of the mugs, suppressing a giddy smile. “It’s completely fine. Thank you.”

“Of course.” He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Sleep well?”

“Mhm.” You nod shyly.

He chuckles. “Good.”

His gaze wanders over your shoulder, and it’s then that he notices Mindy and Gerald sat on the neighbouring porch. Without even batting an eye, he lifts his hand in a friendly wave. “Morning, you two. How was the wedding?”

You turn back toward the couple, a sheepish look on your face. Mindy is beaming, and Gerald is trying to hold back a laugh. Heat creeps up your neck; you wish that the ground would just open up and swallow you whole.

“It was wonderful!” Mindy trills. Her enthusiasm has skyrocketed. You pinch the bridge of your nose, utterly mortified.

“Yes.” Gerald finally pipes up, smirking knowingly. “It was great. What about you, though? How was your night?”

“Fine,” you blurt before Harry can respond. “It was fine.”

The duo share a look, and then Mindy giggles girlishly. You bring your mug up to your mouth, taking a long sip and groaning into the cup. Harry’s arm snakes around your waist, making you jump. You steal a glance at him out of the corner of your eye; he’s fighting a smile.

“Well—” Gerald clears his throat, plucking his folded newspaper from his lap and rising to his feet. “I think I’ll be going, now. Need to catch up on those few extra hours of sleep.”

“Me too,” Mindy says, nodding fervently. She directs her next words at you. “If you pop by later, I’ll show you those photos, okay?”

“Okay,” you croak.

She shoots you one last grin before disappearing inside.

“God,” you say immediately, hanging your head. “That was torture.”

Next to you, Harry laughs. You aim a weak swat at his chest. He snickers, catching your palm and ducking down to drop a gentle kiss against your knuckles. You exhale shakily, twisting your body around so that you can face him.

“Your hair’s a mess,” you murmur, running your free hand through his dishevelled curls.

He cocks one eyebrow. “And whose fault is that?”

You scoff. “Shut up.”

He chuckles quietly and steps closer to you, holding out his mug. You smile in assent, mirroring his movements and clinking your cups together.

“So,” Harry starts, sipping his tea casually, “you gonna let me take you out on a proper date, sometime?”

“That depends,” you say, trying to ignore the flurry of butterflies flapping around in your stomach. “I’ll go—but only if we take my car. I refuse to drive around town in your tacky truck.”

“It’s not that bad!” he protests.

“It’s awful,” you tell him, shaking your head. “It looks it was decorated by a preschooler during arts and crafts.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes playfully, giving in. “Any other requests?”

You pause, lost in thought.

“One more, actually,” you say, fixing him with a challenging stare. “You need to come clean to Mindy and Gerald.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Alright.”

“Really?” You balk, taken aback by his compliance. “That’s it? But I—I had a whole speech prepared.”

Harry laughs softly, cradling your face with his free hand and kissing you slowly. Your fingers tighten around your mug. When the two of you break apart for air, he shrugs.

“I started considering it after everything that happened last night. Keep your speech, though.” His lips twitch. “You’ll be needing to scold me again in no time, I’m sure.”

Your shoulders shake with a silent giggle. “You’re probably right.”

“Also—” Harry clears his throat, soothing the ache with another sip of tea. “You may want to suggest that they hire an exterminator.”

“An exterminator?” you repeat, blinking in surprise. “But…they don’t have rats. Gerald said that the traps hadn’t been touched.”

“Not rats,” he hums. “Squirrels, I believe. Living in the walls.”

“And how did you reach that conclusion?”

“I’ve been doing this for a while, babe—I’ve seen my fair share of pests. Plus,” he clucks his tongue, “they like to chew on wires.”

“Really?” You sigh distantly, pinching your bottom lip. “God, that sucks.”

“It does.” He nods, wrapping his fingers around your forearm. “But you can tell them later.”

“Later?” you say, brows knitting together. “Why not right now?”

“Because,” Harry grunts. You squeal when he crowds you up against your front door. He cups your jaw and tilts your chin up with his thumb, handsome face splitting into an easy, salacious grin.

“Right now, I’m taking you back to bed.”

~*~

thanks for reading! if you enjoyed this piece, please consider donating to my ko-fi! and as always, don’t forget to share your thoughts. thank you bunches <3

#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #spookrry #harry writing #ok here it is 🙃 i lowkey feel like its gonna flop but w/e

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writer-ish · 3 years

Text

makai

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Dr. Brooke Spiers) Word Count: 3.4k Rating: 18+ (NSFW - minors dni) Author's Note: makai (mah-kigh) - one of the four key directions on Oahu, but used on all Hawaiian Islands; makai means "toward the ocean".

Premise: A follow-up fic to this text exchange. Ethan and Brooke meet for a little pre-planned Hawaiian rendezvous.

Hey, I’m here. Where you at?

Brooke taps out the message on her cell phone, keeping one eye on the almost-empty lobby.

It's late now - late for check-in, late for milling around, late, it seems, for Hawaii itself - and she'd be lying to herself if she said she wasn't feeling a bit sleepy—a bit like, maybe, she should be getting up for a six AM shift in Boston after having gotten a good seven hours of sleep the night before?

Rather than waiting for her elderly boyfriend to meet her for a late-night swim - and a little more, hopefully - after sleeping a total of five half-lucid hours on an airplane in the last twenty-four hour period.

She's about to text him again, when she hears a voice from behind her.

"Christ, enough with the texting already."

Whirling around, she can't help the grin that splits her cheeks at the sight of him. Without responding, she throws her arms around his neck, squeezing him in an impromptu hug. His hair is a little damp and appears freshly washed and there's the sharp, pleasant, and familiar smell of his cologne that she inhales when she presses her body to his.

He seems almost nonplussed at her public and spontaneous affection, his arms staying at his sides for a beat longer than they should, before he returns her embrace. She giggles as he even takes her for a half spin, kissing her neck before setting her down, hands lingering at her hips.

"Well, aren't you in a good mood," he comments, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

She shrugs, giving him a cheeky grin. "It's nice to see you. Plus," she adds, taking his hand and interlocking her fingers with his as she starts to walk, "I'm in vacation mode, so you're going to a get a much better version of me for the next few days."

He allows her to lead him out of the lobby and to the stone pathway that will eventually take them down to the beach.

"I like the version I get at home," he remarks once they're in the open air, which smells like hibiscus and coconut and the reminiscent warmth of the sun still emanating from the stones.

As they walk, he tugs her closer and puts his arm over her shoulders. She smiles up at him as she wraps her arm around his waist. He returns it, staring down at her with an inscrutable look, but one that causes a bloom of warmth to start in her chest and work its way outwards.

"It's nice to be somewhere different, though." Resting her head on his shoulder, they continue to amble down the path. "I like us at home, too, but…" She trails off with a shrug. "We work a lot. And don't see each other outside of work enough. I mean, I thought with you suspended I'd at least get a date night, then you had to go and get your freaking job back!"

He throws his head back and laughs, a loud, head-shaking, self-deprecating thing.

"Oh god, I've really done you wrong, haven't I?"

"Yes!" she insists, though she can't stop her own giggles. "Not even a dinner out. Our first movie in months was on the private jet that Vik got me."

Ethan rubs his chin thoughtfully. "I haven't gotten you a private jet yet?"

"Nope." Her hair tosses against her cheeks as she shakes her head, unable to keep the smile off her face. She loves teasing him, she loves being away with him, she loves—she cuts her thoughts short and focuses on their banter. "For shame, sir."

He glances at her and she sees the heat in his gaze as she calls him "sir". She bites her lip and looks up at him innocently. His eyes go from hers down to her lip in an instant and she laughs again.

"You're like one of Pavlov's dogs, I swear." Breaking free from him, she jogs lightly ahead of him down the path, her sandals slapping the pavement with her movements. "Anyway, your old bones are slowing me down. Keep up!" She takes off towards the beach, her sundress whipping around her legs, even as she can hear his bit off curse from behind her.

"I'm not running!" he calls, his voice growing distant as she puts more space between them.

"Your loss!" she yells over her shoulder, before turning around and jogging backwards to tease him even more. She screams as she sees him gaining speed quickly and her shrieks turn into hysterical giggles as he ducks down and lifts her effortlessly over his shoulder, continuing on without breaking his stride.

She buries her face in the thin cotton of his shirt so that she doesn’t wake up all the other sleepy inhabitants of their resort with her giddy snorts, especially when he playfully smacks her butt as he carries her steadily to the beach. Soon, she feels his steps change as his feet sink into the soft sand.

"Wow." His voice is soft and, even though it's coming from somewhere near her rump, it still carries over to where she is, hanging securely off his shoulder.

"I want to see!" She squirms and he grips her bottom, holding her still as he reaches up with his other hand. She feels him wriggle his finger under the heel strap of her sandals and she stills, waiting as he removes first one and then the other. Leaning forward, he places her down gently and she immediately wiggles her toes in the warm, fine sand before whirling around to take in the view.

"Oh, wow," she breathes as well, because truly there isn't another word for it.

The moonlight reflects off the dark surface of the waves, illuminating the gentle ebb and flow of the tide. Dark shadows on the horizon appear to be mountains or something in the distance - she hadn't had a chance to check out the beach in the daytime upon their arrival, so she's just seeing it now for the first time, perhaps not in all its colourful splendour, but still, majestic and beautiful in its own right.

And the stars - Brooke can't remember the last time she'd seen so many of them. They sparkle in the inky blue firmament like someone had tossed an infinity of tiny diamonds on a velvet tray. She breathes in the salty sweet air deeply as her and Ethan take in the view together, silently, for a moment.

"Thank you for asking me to come here with you," Ethan says quietly, eyes still on the sea and the sky. "I didn't realize how much I needed this… this quiet beauty. This moment of serenity."

She quirks a smile at him, taking his hand in hers. He looks down at their intertwined fingers and then back up at her face, his eyes warm and soft, the pale blue glistening in the moonlight.

"I did," she tells him simply with a little shrug, still smiling up at him.

He looks at her for another beat, his eyes conveying a message that only her heart understands, then he turns to her, stroking her cheek softly with his knuckles, before leaning in to place a soft kiss on her lips.

She cups his cheeks in her hands and returns it, keeping it soft, sweet, open-mouthed and warm. After a moment, she pulls back and looks up at him, the smile back on her face. It’s silly, but it almost feels like a permanent fixture tonight; one she can't get rid of even if she tries.

He’s watching her again, eyes heavy and heated, even in the glowing light of the moon. He slides his thumbs over her cheekbones in a light caress. "Brooke, I—"

Even though they’ve gone down this road many times before - the incomplete sentences, the longing looks, the words that are felt but not said - Brooke still feels her breath catch and her heart rate increase as she waits.

They stay suspended like that for a moment, the waves and the moon their only companions, when suddenly the call of a night bird, tropical and unfamiliar, breaks them from their reverie.

Ethan looks up and Brooke looks away, disappointed - though not surprised - that the moment got away from them again without any new revelations.

“Looks like we have company,” Ethan remarks, his voice carefully composed, even as he pulls her closer, rubbing her bare arms with his hands.

“Well,” Brooke replies, still determined to make this a good night, “as long as our only company is avian...” She pulls away from him, reaching up and teasing at the straps of her sundress. “What do you say we go for a swim?”

Biting back a smirk, he looks back and forth across the long expanse of beach. Her gaze follows his, ensuring along with him that they truly are alone. As much as she thrives on the spontaneity of a moment like this, she'd rather not have any of their colleagues - or any guest for that matter - see her naked. Which is exactly what she plans on being in due course.

“Looks pretty quiet.” His gaze locks in on hers again. “No?”

She nods, teeth catching at her bottom lip as she slowly backs up towards the water, pulling the straps of her dress down to fall on her upper arms. “Indeed it does, Dr Ramsey.” She pulls one arm out and then the other, leaving the dress clinging to the tops of her breasts. She continues to step backwards until her feet hit the shoreline, warm, frothy waves caressing her ankles. She laughs in delight and looks down, sliding around in the wet sand.

Ethan is closing in on her, his shirt already off. She sees he’s holding her sandals and his shoes in one hand, shirt slung over his arm.

“How’s the water?” he asks, though his eyes are still on the beach, as though he’s looking for something.

When she realizes his apparent destination, she can't help but shake her head fondly - he's walked over to one of the resort chairs, stacked up neatly for the evening, and is placing their shoes and his shirt on the pile.

Heaven forbid they get sand on them, she thinks, unable to stop the swell of affection she feels for her fastidious man.

Making her way over to him, she shimmies the dress up and over her head.

“Space for one more thing?” she asks innocently waiting for him to turn to look at her.

When he does, she gets immediate gratification at his dumbstruck look.

She had foregone a bra completely, so she watches as he takes her in from head to toe, nipples already stiffening in the exposed night air and under his gaze. She'd also pulled out the "special occasion" underwear, a lacy, boy-cut confection that she knew he'd appreciate.

And by the look in his eyes, he seems very appreciative.

Smiling cheekily, she shimmies down the underwear as well, tossing it to him before wading further into the water.

For all her bravado, standing stark naked on a public beach for longer than thirty seconds stretches the limits of her comfort, so it feels nice to seek both warmth and privacy in the languid tropical waves.

She had almost been worried that the water would be cold, but instead it's the perfect temperature - just nice enough to submerge herself in without feeling like she's entering a frigid bath. She wades out a bit deeper until the water just skims the top of her breasts and she turns in time to see Ethan entering the water.

Her heart picks up speed as she admires him, his naked, muscular body limned by the moonlight, walking into the ocean like some sort of reverse Poseidon, his eyes fixated on her and her alone.

Brooke shivers in a way that has nothing to do with water temperature, goosebumps lifting the fine hairs on her arms as she waits for him to get to her. The anticipation is sweet, but not as sweet as seeing him up close, smiling down at her as he collects her in his arms.

Their naked bodies slide together and she instinctively wraps her legs around his waist, feeling his arousal at the crux of her body. She kisses his neck, his jaw, his cheek, as his hands glide down to her bottom to lift her higher.

"This is nice," she murmurs, twining her arms tighter around his neck.

He hums in agreement, stroking her back up and down with one hand as they quietly watch the moon ripple on the horizon.

"I love touching you like this." He presses a kisses to her shoulder, squeezes her tighter. "If I could keep you this way, naked, pressed up against me, your skin on mine—if I could hold you like this forever, I would do it."

"Might be difficult to get work done." Her response is flippant, but his words have struck a chord deep inside her and her heart twangs painfully at the implications.

He snorts. "I don't care. Who needs work."

She pulls back to look at him, affecting a look of shock. "I'm sorry, who are you, and what have you done with Dr. Ethan Ramsey?"

He shakes his head, burying his face in her neck. When he speaks again, his words are muffled against her skin. "Dr. Ramsey has learned more in the past three years than in any of the previous years combined." He pulls back to look at her, one hand still holding her against him securely, the other pushing her damp waves back from her face. "Learned and grown and just—" He shakes his head before continuing. "Just tried to be better. To do better. Thanks to you." He kisses her and she can taste the salt on his lips.

"I can't take all the credit," she whispers against his mouth as they pull apart after a beat.

"Why not?" he whispers back, pressing another salty kiss to her lips. "You do it all the time at work anyway."

"Hey—!" She pulls away indignantly. "It's not my fault I’m the only one who can actually solve our cases—"

He laughs loudly and spins her around, making her lose track of her indignation as she dissolves into helpless giggles.

The warm water swirls over their bodies and she tightens her arms and legs around him. Her giggles inadvertently turn into a soft moan as she feels him, hard against her centre, settled right between her spread legs.

He tucks a kiss below her ear, nipping lightly at her pulse. "I want you so bad," he murmurs, sucking gently on the spot where he bit.

"So what are you waiting for," she breathes, her head lolling back as her hips move restlessly, her body stroking wetly against his length.

"Not in here," he groans, "the bacteria—not good for your—" He grunts as she presses more tightly against him, continuing to rub intimately in a way that has them both moaning.

"Have I ever told you—" She gasps, her breath coming out in short pants. "—how hot it is when you say the word 'bacteria' during sex?"

His response is a muffled groan into her shoulder as her jerky movements become more frantic, chasing the climax that has been inevitable since the first touch of salt water on her bare skin.

It's an odd sensation, the languid warmth of the ocean surrounding them while a different, more intimate, kind of wetness grows between. She misses the feel of him inside her during a moment like this, but there is something strangely, captivatingly erotic about making love this way. Their bodies sliding together in a new sort of intimacy, his rigid heat captured between her velvety folds.

“Ethan, I—” Her voice catches and his fingers tighten on her bottom, holding her to him in a way that hits that exact spot she needs it to. "Ah—ah!" She feels her muscles clench as a wave of pleasure crests…then crashes down over her. She lets out a moan, throwing her head back, the movement lifting her half out the water. Her nipples hit the cooler night air as her breasts emerge from the sea, and the feel of it in contrast to her climax sends prickles of sensation across her skin.

Ethan ducks down, kissing between her breasts as his hips jerk and finally still. He lets out a long groan through clenched teeth and she feels a bloom of warmth between them as she holds his head tightly against her chest. She can feel her heart pounding and his heartbeats echo hers from where his chest is pressed, closer to her stomach.

They hold each other for a protracted beat, the only sounds the crashing waves and their ragged breaths.

"Would you consider that," she finally says, still slightly breathless, "acceptable for my pH balance?"

He snickers deeply into her skin as he wraps his arms around her tighter before releasing her slowly. She allows her body to dip back and float leisurely on the bobbing waves. Letting out a contented sigh, she looks up at the stars, her eyes catching on a streak of light separate from the rest.

"Look!" She sits up quickly and grabs Ethan's arm, pointing at the sky.

He looks up as well and they watch as two, three stars make a quick descent from their position, a trail of sparkles in their wake.

"I've never seen a shooting star," she breathes, mesmerized.

He doesn't reply, so after a minute she glances over at him. He's staring at her, a soft smile tilting the corners of his lips. She can't see his face that well, even in the bright glow of an almost-full moon, but she recognizes the gentleness in his expression, the curve of his cheek as the shadow of a dimple barely appears.

She loves him so much.

She loves him so much that her heart aches with it, like a balloon that's about to pop or a cup that's overflowing.

She loves him for all his flaws, for all his hubris, for the ways he tries to be so good, and for all the ways he fails.

Her eyes well up as she looks at him, the words yearning to tumble from her lips. To tell him that she's always on his side. That he's hers, no matter what. There's no one else and there never will be.

That this is it, for her.

Instead she smiles back at him, albeit a little tremulously, and she leans forward, pushing off with her feet as she wades back to the shore.

He follows her quietly and they dress quickly, clothes awkward and difficult to tug onto their still-wet bodies.

As she grabs her sandals and goes to walk, he grabs her hand to stop her and pulls her into his arms.

They stand there for a bit, quiet and still, and Brooke feels all the little moments that have brought them here swirling around them in a hopeful nostalgia; the promise of things to come, built on a foundation of what they've surpassed.

"Time to sleep?" She looks up at the rumbling sound of his voice, blinking her eyes tiredly without even having realized just how tired she was.

"Mmm," she agrees, pulling away. "Your room or mine?"

He looks askance at her and she groans good-naturedly. "Fine, we'll be good. But see if you last more than one night without me. Just see!" She pokes his shoulder and grins at him and he catches her hand and holds it tightly against his chest, over his heart.

"Meet me for coffee tomorrow morning?" He brings her hand up to his lips and presses a kiss to the palm. "Hawaii has the best—"

"Yes, yes, I know, you talked my ear off about it on the plane, I remember." She shakes her head. "You're so boring I literally don't know how I stand you."

He grins at her and shrugs good-naturedly as they begin the slow walk back to the resort. "I try not to tempt fate too often by asking that very same question."

"Probably for the best." She tilts her head onto him and he drapes his arm around her shoulders. They meander down the path, away from the ocean, in comfortable silence.

She knows, deep down, how he feels about her. And if the final show of her loyalty to him is for her to wait until he's ready to tell her, well, then—

She'll wait.

#open heart #ethan ramsey #open heart fanfic #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart third year #oph 3 #playchoices open heart #nsft #mature #soft ethan is soft #we know how he feels #and so does brooke #can't wait to hear it for real

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cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

[CN] Summer Palace Tour with Gavin

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for content not yet released in EN 🍒

Summer Palace Tour Video: here

The weather in autumn is exceptionally clear and refreshing. Standing at the entrance of the Summer Palace, I look at the tickets in my hand with anticipation.

The documentary from my previous collaboration with the Forbidden City garnered positive feedback, and many viewers expressed that they had a better understanding of traditions and culture through the film.

As such, the company managed to clinch the rights to shoot a sequel. This time, the collaborative partner is another famous imperial palace...

The Summer Palace, also known as “The Royal Garden Museum”.

This is a rare opportunity. Before filming officially begins, I decided to visit the venue to take a look around. Of course, I’ve also invited him along.

My gaze flits past the bustling crowd. Just as I’m searching for that familiar figure, a voice rings out -

Gavin: It’s crowded here. Don’t stray off.

Gavin walks over to my side, taking my hand.

MC: I’m looking for the guide board. This place is really huge.

I blink at him, releasing a soft sigh of awe.

With a small smile, Gavin grips my hand lightly.

Gavin: It’s over there.

He brings me to the guide board. Giving it a sweeping glance, he turns to me with a relaxed smile.

Gavin: It says there are two entrances. Where do you want to go first?

MC: Let’s start from the north entrance.

LOCATION 1: Suzhou Street

Standing on the white marble stone bridge of Suzhou Street, I tiptoe, staring into the distance.

Beautiful shopfronts span as far as the eye can see, and tiny colourful flags outside the shops drift in the breeze.

MC: Wow, I can see the Yuquan Mountain and the Western Mountains from here!

I tilt my body to the side, pointing them out to Gavin. He glances in the direction of my finger, then nods.

Gavin: Mm, the view is pretty good. There are many shops as well. Why don’t we take a break here?

He asks relaxedly and contentedly, and it seems as though the beautiful scenery has melted into his eyes.

A wave of joy surges from my heart. Without realising it, I start to talk even more, pulling on Gavin’s arm as we walk down the bridge.

MC: Sure, let’s walk around!

There are many visitors in Suzhou Street. Row upon row of shops are arranged neatly.

MC: I heard that after Emperor Qianlong returned from an imperial tour in the Jiangnan region, he longed for the bustling view in Suzhou... For the 70th birthday of his mother, he built this street in order to bring the beautiful scenery of Jiangnan to the city of Beijing.

All of a sudden, I think about the “ideal home” that Gavin and I once talked about. My eyes crinkle upwards.

[Note] This is a reference to Hometown Date!

MC: Gavin, do you still remember the question about our “ideal home”?

Gavin pauses slightly, then nods.

Gavin: Why the sudden question?

MC: It just came to mind after looking at the scenery and greenery.

My gaze slowly sweeps across the view before me, and I express the thoughts in my heart.

MC: In the future, our home must definitely have a huge garden. I want to grow all sorts of trees and plants in the garden, and create a beautiful Jiangnan scenery.

Gavin can’t help but chuckle softly. He lifts his hand, scratching the tip of my nose affectionately.

Gavin: Sure, we’ll do it together.

He turns around. Standing in front of the railing, he blends into the pictureque scenery behind him.

A gentle breeze brushes the stray hairs on Gavin’s forehead, revealing a pair of crystal clear amber eyes.

Gavin: But the scenery isn’t important. The most important thing is that you and I are in that scenery.

LOCATION 2: The Marble Boat of Purity and Ease

MC: “The Marble Boat of Purity and Ease”... it’s a really beautiful name. But why was it given such a name?

Gavin follows my pace unhurriedly, walking towards the riverbank. We watch as sunlight descends on the boat, casting a dazzling halo over it.

Hearing what I said, he flips open the guide map and reads it aloud.

Gavin: “The Yellow River is clear and the sea is calm - the world is at peace throughout the years.”

Gavin: Its name originated from a wish for peace and prosperity.

MC: Peace and prosperity...

Gavin lets out a “mm”. Staring at the tranquil lake, his voice is calm.

Gavin: It’s a shame that things didn’t go as planned.

His words make me recall the past that I’d read from history books.

The land was left in tatters, and fresh blood spilled like wine. The rippling and surging lake of the Summer Palace couldn’t salvage everything that was burnt down.

We pass by white marble railings. They are pure white, and one can no longer see traces of a vastly different past.

MC: Back in school, I remember the solemn atmosphere in the classroom when we learnt about this moment in history... It’s as though everyone experienced it firsthand.

Muttering to myself, I find my mood dampening. However, Gavin suddenly speaks.

Gavin: I used to feel angry about it, but not anymore.

MC: Why not?

Gavin: Because I understand now that if you want to protect something you cherish, you have to keep getting stronger.

Gavin looks at me, his eyes filled with calmness and bright rays of light.

He doesn’t continue, simply hugging me from behind as we stare at the Marble Boat of Purity and Ease quietly.

Specks of radiance land on the boat. It’s as though this historical boat has been stranded in this moment, bringing with it the tranquility of consistency through the ages.

Looking at this peaceful scenery, I suddenly tilt my head upwards. Gavin lowers his eyes and meets my gaze, his eyes clear and bright.

MC: Gavin, in the past, I always thought that peace and prosperity was something ordinary. But afterwards, I slowly understood the weight behind them. It’s been difficult for you, Officer Gavin.

Gavin chuckles softly, encircling me even more tightly into his arms. His chin rubs the top of my head gently.

Gavin: I already have a reason to fight. So, it isn’t difficult at all.

LOCATION 3: Long Corridor

Even though it’s already autumn, the weather is still pretty hot. However, cool breezes weave through the Long Corridor, and they are incredibly soothing.

MC: No wonder the imperial household enjoyed coming here to avoid the heat... it’s much more cooling than other places!

I smile at Gavin. The moment I finish speaking, a visitor from the side suddenly bumps into me.

Before I can react, Gavin reaches out to pull me into his arms.

Without a word, he simply uses his body to shield me from the crowd behind. Then, he tilts his chin at me.

Gavin: What were you saying?

Sweeping a glance at the growing crowd, I find that the originally cooling Long Corridor is gradually becoming stuffy and hot. I shake my head.

MC: Nothing much. It’s just that this path is pretty long, and it’d be a while before we reach the end.

Gavin: Want to go somewhere else?

Meeting Gavin’s gaze, I shake my head. After fanning myself with a hand, I stand on my tiptoes to fan Gavin as well.

MC: Since we’re already here, we might as well finish the walk. Anyway, the scenery along the way is really pretty.

A faint breeze brushes stray hairs on his forehead. Gavin’s bright eyes notice my actions, and he smiles slightly.

Gavin: Sure.

Tugging on Gavin’s hand, we continue walking forward. Gavin doesn’t say anything, and it seems like he’s pondering on something.

After a moment, I feel a refreshing breeze drifting from our interlaced palms. It gradually encases my surroundings, lifting up a few locks of hair.

I immediately turn to Gavin. He blinks, his eyes innocent and bright.

Gavin: It’d no longer be hot like this.

A breeze brushes my sleeve, and I can vaguely hear someone exclaiming from the front.

Visitor: It’s so cooling all of a sudden!

I turn my head, watching as the person beside me stares out of the corridor as if nothing happened.

Gavin: The view’s pretty good here.

I can’t help but laugh quietly, pulling on his hand as we continue walking.

LOCATION 4: Hall of Peace and Longevity

MC: Gavin, look at that lady. The hanfu she’s wearing is so pretty!

I tug on Gavin’s sleeve, signalling for him to look.

MC: The design of that hanfu was likely inspired by items in the Hall of Peace and Longevity. There are images of phoenixes, Yulan magnolia flowers, and peonies woven on it. The workmanship seems so exquisite...

Gavin: Do you like it?

MC: Mm! It looks really pretty, and it’s an innovative blend of traditions and cultures! I just don’t know where I can buy... huh, Gavin, why did you take your phone out?

Gavin: I’m searching for the shop selling this outfit. Since you like it, get one.

MC: ...it won’t be too late to do that after returning home!

LOCATION 5: Garden of Virtue and Harmony

MC: Gavin, look! There are paintings of dragons on the ceiling of the Garden of Virtue and Harmony!

Walking past the inscribed board outside the Garden of Virtue and Harmony theatre, we arrive at the inner hall.

Arching my neck to stare at the paintings on the ceiling, I point them out to Gavin.

Gavin’s gaze follows the direction of my finger, and he nods slightly.

Gavin: It does look very nice, but that’s not all.

MC: Huh? Did I miss something?

Gavin suddenly lifts his hand, tilting my head gently and enabling me to see uneven ridges on the paintings.

Noticing the curiosity on my face, he smiles while explaining.

Gavin: That should be a movable board which allows actors to descend from the ceiling.

Astounded, my eyes widen as I turn to him.

MC: Wow, there were already elevators back then!

Gavin smiles in amusement at my exaggerated tone and expression. He nods.

Gavin: Mm, it’s pretty amazing. Aside from that, there are many other mechanisms here.

He casually points at the decorations on stage, and seems to find them interesting.

Gavin: In order to carry out a perfect performance, they spent a lot of effort on the decorations. The ingenuity of predecessors have remained till this day, and they are by no means inferior.

I nod in agreement. Something occurs to me, and I can’t help but laugh.

MC: Then again, Officer Gavin doesn’t need an elevator to descend from the sky!

The corners of Gavin’s lips curl upwards subconsciously. He seems to think of something, and coughs softly.

He looks around at the surroundings. When he’s certain that no one is watching us, he turns back to look at me, a somewhat resigned expression on his face.

Gavin: Not so loud.

Receiving Officer Gavin’s “instruction”, I give him a wink, doing a “zipping” motion over my lips.

Gavin glances at me, then suddenly lowers his head, chuckling softly into my ear.

Gavin: But it’s the truth.

LOCATION 6: Lotus Pavilion

MC: From here, we can see green pines and the palace on Longevity Hill!

I pull Gavin to the corner of a veranda.

MC: I originally thought the Hall of Jade Billows was just a tiny palace. Turns out it must be seen from this angle.

Gavin: Mm. Aside from Longevity Hill, we can also see the Jade Spring Hill. It looks just like a landscape painting stretched out in front of us.

MC: Looks like the person who wrote a couplet based on the Lotus Pavilion had the same thought as you.

I stare at the hanging couplet on the rear eaves of the Lotus Pavilion, smiling as I read it aloud.

MC: “The uneven pavilion is akin to a magnificent palace basking in the glow of sunset, and the scenery is reminiscent of a painting”.

Gavin studies the words on the couplet, then grips my hand.

Gavin: Let’s go and admire that “painting”.

LOCATION 7: Garden of Harmonious Pleasures

MC: I heard that the Garden of Harmonious Pleasures has a winding corridor comprising over a hundred sections that connect the entire garden into one structure. I couldn’t conceptualise this clearly through the guidebook. Now that I’m in it, I can experience the beauty of this classical architecture!

Walking through the corridor with Gavin, I click my tongue in amazement.

Gavin: Mm, it’s extraordinary. Based on the map, this corridor connects the north and south.

Gavin unfolds the map in his hands.

Gavin: Look at the markings. The mountain spring here is the source of the Kunming River.

Leaning into Gavin’s arms to look at the map, I nod along with his words.

MC: I see! No wonder I felt a certain aura of unity while walking.

Gavin chuckles, then keeps the map.

Gavin: “A winding path leads to quiet seclusion” - I guess this describes the view in the Garden of Harmonious Pleasures.

LOCATION 8: Hall of Benevolence and Longevity

Spotting a strange bronze creature in front of the Hall of Benevolence and Longevity, I walk over to it curiously.

MC: What’s this? It doesn’t resemble a lion or any other animal...

Gavin: It’s a Qilin.

Hearing Gavin’s words, I’m a little shocked as I examine this sculpted bronze creature before me -

It has the head of a dragon, deer antlers, and hooves. Its body is covered with scales, and it looks mighty and awe-inspiring.

MC: Is this the Qilin which treads on auspicious clouds and prevents disasters in the world? Why would there be a sculpted Qilin here?

Gavin: It’s probably because the Qilin is a legendary auspicious beast which prevents evildoing and wards off evil spirits.

Gavin responds calmly. Since this makes sense, I nod, flipping open the guidebook to learn more about this.

MC: “The sculpture of the auspicious beast Qilin was cast during the reign of Qianlong. It sits on a white marble base with lotus petals carved around it. There are seven pearls carved on the base. There’s a treasure carved between the two front limbs of the Qilin... it exudes a mighty aura, and greatly enhances the beauty of the Hall of Benevolence and Longevity.”

My head bobs from left to right as I read the introduction on the guidebook.

Finding this amusing, Gavin crosses his arms, looking at me with a smile.

Once I’m done reading it aloud, I take another look at the Qilin, scrutinising the sculpted scales on its arms.

Seeing that I’m entirely focused, he suddenly asks a question.

Gavin: Does it look that impressive?

I nod vigorously.

MC: It does! It’s incredible and even symbolises good luck. If possible, I’d want to meet a Qilin! That way, it can guarantee that everything I do will go smoothly, and that each day will be happy!

Gavin doesn’t say anything. He suddenly takes my hand, looking at the decorative patterns on the Qilin together with me.

After a moment, he pretends to be casual as he speaks.

Gavin: You probably won’t get to meet a Qilin.

Gavin: But I can make you happy every day.

LOCATION 9: Shop

Noticing that I’m deciding between postcards from across the display window, Gavin turns to me.

Gavin: Shall we make a postcard?

MC: Mm! Let’s pick a photo~

At this stage, you can customise your own R karma by selecting a pose and backdrop :>

[ LITTLE SNIPPETS ]

Gavin grabbed a stray kitten which attempted to carry a sandwich away in its mouth

We met a fortune teller, and he appeared to tell Gavin something secretively

A boy was trapped on top of a bronze cow, and Gavin carried him down

A little bird hovered over your heads. Perhaps tired from flying, it suddenly landed on Gavin’s shoulder and took a short break

At the city wall, Gavin carried you up to look at the distant scenery

When you’re tired from walking, Gavin immediately carried you to a wayside pavilion

While on a boat, there was a soothing breeze on the Kunming River. You leaned against Gavin’s shoulder and fell asleep

Passing by ginkgo trees along the west dyke, Gavin caught a few drifting ginkgo leaves and gave them to you

[ MOMENTS ]

MC: I saw quite a number of ladies taking pictures in ancient costumes. I regret not preparing an outfit...

Gavin: It’s okay, we can come again next time.

MC: The “Sacred Tree” is very beautiful this season. No wonder it’s a must-see.

Gavin: If you like it, we can stay here for a while longer.

MC: There are so many people. Should we come back again later?

Gavin: Sure. How about walking around the Garden of Virtue and Harmony first?

[ EVOLVED KARMA ]

Just as you said, there’s a different feeling when seeing the historical architecture of the Summer Palace up close.

I took many pictures today. There are photos of you, but there are even more photos of us.

When we head back, let’s look at them together.

- Gavin

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin #I won't be doing translations for the other love interests!

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awanderingdeal · 3 years

Note

Hello there! Would you please consider writing a fic where maybe Leo or a fan wears a dress or paints his nails or something else feminine and gets bullied online so the entire team then starts wearing dresses out in retaliation? I think Leo is the perfect example of flipping the V to normative gender ideals

Hi! Thank you for this ask. I hope you don't mind, but I kind of took this as inspiration and ran with it. I used Finn just because it fits my own personal headcanons that he would be the one that would be a bit more adventurous fashion wise, although I definitely agree Leo is the nail painter in that relationship! I hope you like it!

Apologies for the excessive use of italics in this fic!

CW: food mentions, some swearing, implied Instagram bullying and a child with very mild illness (hay fever).

Rating: T

Let me know if you think I missed anything or need to change the rating.

All characters in this fic are from Sweater Weather universe and belong to @lumosinlove

“Are you going to take that dress off?” June asked, blowing on the undercoat she’d just applied to her nails. Finn’s eyes dropped from the TV screen to the black fabric draping over his body. He brushed his fingers over the material, enjoying the texture of the sheer polka dots that decorated the dress. From afar, they were difficult to see, but at this distance they shined. His own little secret.

“No,” Finn replied, the word slipping from his mouth felt foreign, as if he hadn’t chosen to say it. “ Is that okay?”

“It’s generally considered polite to ask before you borrow people’s clothing, but sure, why not?” A loud cheer erupted from the TV notifying Finn the score on the basketball game he had been watching had changed. He desperately wanted to check it, but he continued to hold June’s gaze. “The Knicks,” June offered and Finn breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you going to wear it out later?” She didn’t wait for his reply, proffering two bottles of polish for Finn’s perusal, a redcurrant and a mauve.

“The red,” Finn decided after a beat. “No, I think I’ll get changed before we go to the theatre.”

“Alright then,” June hummed, glancing at her cell. “Logan is trying to call you, by the way.”

“Yes, my cell, I know exactly where that is,” Finn muttered to himself, stabbing at the remote to pause the TV. It took a few minutes of searching, the device hidden between the folds of the bean bag he was lounging on, but eventually Logan’s face was filling all 6.1 inches of the screen. “Lo!”

“Hey.”

Finn loved the greeting on Logan’s tongue, one of those that he never seemed to be able to stop his accent dripping through. Finn thought perhaps the sentiment was painted on his face, Logan peering at him curiously through the lens. “Isn’t that June’s dress?”

The dress. Finn had forgotten all about it. “Yes.”

He hadn’t meant for the reply to be said with such abruptness, but it felt good, all the tension coiling in his chest being released in the word.

Logan’s expression was challenging, similar to that June had given him earlier. “I was just going to say you look better in it.”

“Oh.”

June unfurled her legs from beneath her, throwing herself into view of the screen, her left hand held awkwardly in front of her. “I’m right here, Tremblay!”

***

“Love, you need to get out of the kitchen. You’re being very distracting.”

Finn frowned at Leo’s statement. “I’m not doing anything?” And for once, he wasn’t. He wasn’t trying to guess the weight of irrelevant objects. He wasn’t playing with the stray bits of dough Leo had left aside for decoration. He wasn’t even relaying facts about his current favourite interest. Finn was just watching.

Sometimes he liked to do that. He liked seeing Leo’s long fingers curled around the handle of the knife, his movements fluid and confident, his expression soft with quiet concentration. Occasionally, he’d cock his head, humming contemplatively and Finn could take the opportunity to offer his taste buds.

“It’s not a you problem, it’s a me problem,” Leo chuckled, setting the knife down on the chopping board. “I keep looking up and you’re just -” Finn followed Leo’s gaze as it wandered down to the exposed skin between Finn’s t-shirt and his skirt. “- I’m trying to meal prep and it’s going to take all week at this rate.”

The t-shirt had belonged to Logan, an old Harvard hockey throwback that had managed to make it through several wardrobe purges, so, whilst it was wide enough for Finn, the length was awkward. He hadn’t really considered his boyfriend’s reactions as he’d cut the item to fall several inches above his belly button, the crop looking far more purposeful than it previously had.

“Oh this old thing, I just threw it on,” Finn smirked, as he pushed off the counter he'd been leaning on. He rounded the island, stealing a carrot as he passed, until he planted himself in front of Leo. "Do you want help? It'd be quicker?"

"Now we both know neither of those things are true." Leo raised a critical eyebrow, his laughter smooth and sweet. He turned to face Finn more fully, his hand reaching to pass the forest green material of Finn's skirt through his fingers. "I like this colour on you."

"It has pockets! I totally get why Lily's always shouting about them. They're very convenient." Finn shoved his hands in the well-concealed pocket, pulling his cell from its depths. "See."

"Nice," Leo said, his smile making the edges of his face crinkle. "How about you let me finish up here and then we can find Lo and get his opinion on this outfit?"

"Fine," Finn groaned, resisting the temptation to draw Leo in a hug, and perhaps something more. "I'm gonna go and look over that report the accountant sent over. Do you want me to check yours over too?"

"Please," Leo nodded, his smile growing wider. "You're the best."

"You feed me, I make sure you don't get arrested, that's what relationships are all about, right?"

"Right," Leo ran his fingers over the skirt one last time and stepped back to put some space between them. Finn turned to leave, barely getting a few paces in before Leo called him. "Wait!"

"Yeah?"

"Just one kiss now would be okay."

Finn shook his head, letting Leo draw him back in with a chuckle. Leo's hands, always warm, settled on Finn's waist and he leaned down to press their lips together.

***

Finn winced as Aveline sneezed again, the forceful burst of air covering his sweater in droplets. He felt sorry for her; she was struggling with a bout of hay fever that was making her red-nosed and irritable, but the sweater was one of Finn’s favourites. A vintage, hand knitted blue thing he’d found in a thrift store in Cambridge for an absolute steal. Back then, it had been the scene of Bambi and his friends on it that had grasped Finn’s attention, however, he’d come to love it for its perfect fit and the fact it never failed to spark a conversation.

“Harzy, thank you. You’re a lifesaver.” Finn tried not to let his relief show too much seeing Kris’ approach, his arms outstretched to gather his daughter. “I can’t even put her down to go to the bathroom at the moment without her screaming.”

Finn chuckled, holding a wriggling Aveline tighter to stop her launching herself before her father was close enough. “Papa!” she cried, the exclamation melded neatly into a large yawn.

“Come, mon chou,” Kris soothed, letting Aveline bury her face into the crook of his neck and playing a gentle pattern with his fingers over her back. “Let’s go and see if Vroom-vroom has any magic up his sleeve, ey? He always knows what to do.”

“Vroom-vroom?” Finn whispered the question.

“Sergei,” Kris explained with a gleeful smile despite the tiredness etched into his face. He shifted Aveline into a more comfortable position. “Thanks again for holding her.”

“Anytime.”

Finn had barely been alone in the Dumais’ second living room for a minute when Katie came crashing in. He wondered briefly if he should redirect her back to the other room where everybody was gathered, the thought quickly interrupted by Katie tugging on the hem of his skirt. “Can you spin again? Please?”

Unable to resist her large doe eyes, Finn twirled for her, his skirt swirling and billowing around him until he began to go dizzy.

“Encore! Encore!”

Finn didn’t need Logan around to translate that for him, he’d seen enough Broadway shows to understand the request.

“No more, Katie Belle. I’m going to puke,” Finn laughed, lifting Katie into his arms. “You’re growing too quickly! I swear you were only this big the last time I saw you,” he teased, spreading the thumb and index finger of his free hand a few inches apart.

“I’ll be as tall as you soon!” Katie giggled, patting Finn on his head.

“Then you can carry me,” Finn teased. He was just reaching to bop Katie on the nose when the unmistakable sound of a camera shutter closing grabbed his attention.

“Logan!” Katie gasped, struggling in Finn’s arms for a second like little Aveline had done. “Put me down.”

Finn obliged, watching Katie run toward Logan with a fond smile.

“Did you fix it?” she asked, her voice hopeful.

“Ouais,” Logan nodded, “I gave it back to Maja.”

“Merci, merci, merci!” Katie wrapped her arms around Logan’s hips in a hug before running off, presumably to find Maja.

Finn crossed the room, opening his arms for Logan to walk into. He rested his chin on Logan’s head, breathing in the familiar smell of his shampoo. “What were you up to?”

“Just taking a photo of two of my favourite people,” Logan mumbled into Finn’s chest.

“Can I see?”

“Oui, it’s very cute. ” Logan stepped back, pulling the photo up onto the screen. It was a nice one, both Finn and Katie’s head tipped back slightly with bright laughter. Finn tracked down the photo, Katie’s legs clinging to his waist where the faux leather skirt started. He breathed in, filling his lungs with air and then expelling it quickly.

“Post it.”

Logan looked at him, eyes wide. “Are you sure?”

“Not really, but I’m fed up with changing my clothes all the time and I’m surprised I haven’t been papped anyway. I’d rather do this on my own terms. It’s a fucking skirt, it shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Tell me to do it again,” Logan reached out a hand, squeezing gently as Finn took it.

“Post it.”

***

“Stop reading,” Leo sighed, plucking Finn’s cell from his hand.

Finn matched his sigh, burying his head into his hands. He didn’t need to look at the screen anyway, the words burned into his eyes. How anybody had looked at a photo of two people, one of whom was a child, laughing and had churned out hatred was mystifying to him. Finn had been expecting that though, he’d been around long enough to know there were some assholes out there. When he’d replied to one of the nicer ones he hadn’t really considered how he would feel about that going viral. About becoming the face of something he hadn’t really asked for.

Roaringlion17: Harzy! This fit is spectacular, I love the skirt <3 I just wanted to ask if you are trans and what pronouns you would like us to use?

OfficialFOHara: @roaringlion17 Thank you! He/him pronouns are great! I’m not trans. I just think it’s dumb that boys can’t wear skirts. Or dresses for that matter. I like clothes, not boxes.

The reply had now been featured on every gossip column possible and was beginning to filter into more esteemed news too. One of them had even called him, the face of a revolution, which had made Finn cringe. He supposed it was better than the hateful slurs his PR team were battling to keep off the photo.

“Hey,” Logan took the seat next to Finn where he’d slumped himself at the dining table. “Look at me.” Finn lifted his head, meeting Logan’s eyes, the deep green something he wanted to get lost in right now. He thought Logan was going to ask for the thousandth time if Finn wanted him to delete it, but all he got was the fierce, determined gaze Logan sported on the ice. “This is going to pass. Tomorrow, somebody will cheat on somebody and you will be old news. Do you want to see something?”

Finn nodded. He didn’t know what he was consenting to, but he trusted Logan to make it something that would make him smile. Leo dragged another of the chairs around to sit on Finn’s left hand side, setting his confiscated cell in front of him, the Instagram app open to Thomas’ profile. Logan leaned forward, tapping on the latest photo.

Thomas’ smile was wide as he sat on a window sill, kicking out the long zebra print skirt cloaking his legs. The caption underneath read ‘You’re just jealous that I wear it better than you! #boyswearskirtstoo’

“That’s -”

“Wait a second,” Logan reached for the phone again, setting it down with a picture of James’ visible. He was wearing an ochre coloured corduroy skirt that clearly belonged to Lily, the fabric straining on thighs. I’m feeling myself in this, tbh. Please hold whilst I order one in my size #boys wearskirtstoo.

Finn snorted, the sound wet with the tears he was struggling to hold back.

The hashtags kept coming.

Cap and Loops in their respective jersey’s tucked into pleated skirts. These Lions know fashion is not gendered #boyswearskirtstoo

Ollie in a shimmering gold knee length piece. Shine bright! #boyswearskirtstoo

Nado, Kuny, Smitty and Kane, arms slung around one another's shoulders, all wearing varying shades of pink. On Wednesdays, we wear pink #boyswearskirtstoo. Finn would bet good money that Kuny was behind that caption.

Dumo, Sergei and their wives, alongside their troupe of children, each one of them wearing a different coloured tutu. Dumo had opted to just include the hashtag, or rather his social media team had, because the man himself most definitely did not know how to upload the photo.

Kasey and Natalie looked effortlessly cool dressed in white tennis skirts and floral bomber jackets. I’m not sure what all the fuss is about? #boyswearskirtstoo

Alex was wearing a very similar black skirt to Finn's in his photo. Who wore it better? #boyswearskirtstoo #thatsmylittlebrother

“He’s an idiot, but I love him,” Finn laughed wetly.

“There’s more,” Logan smirked as he tapped at the screen again, almost brimming with an excited energy. He placed the cell back down, leaving his hand to block the next photo a little longer. Finn grabbed the device as soon as Logan revealed the image.

It was perfect.

Leo and Logan lounged on the sofa, a little further apart than they would normally sit. Leo clutching his favourite mug and Logan with sketchpad in hand. They both looked easy in their outfits, as if the skirts were a part of them. Leo’s was long, hitting just above his ankle, a navy lining coated in a tulle that was embellished with celestial bodies. Logan was looking at the camera, his eyes just visible under the brim of his cap. His skirt was shorter, the denim flaring over his thick thighs. In this house we respect people’s right to wear whatever the fuck they want #boyswearskirtstoo

Finn stopped trying to fight the tears, letting the moisture well in his eyes. “Thank you,” he choked out, pushing himself from his chair. Leo and Logan had their arms around him before he could ask. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.” He couldn’t seem to make the words stop, his body shaking with sobs, his boyfriend’s arms remaining sure around him until Finn wiped at his face and muttered an apology. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.” Leo swept his thumb over Finn’s cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “What can we do? What do you need?”

Finn let out a heavy breath, leaning into Logan’s hold. “I think I want to send a thank you to the group chat and then snacks and cuddles? I can deal with the world tomorrow.”

“Okay then, snacks and cuddles. We deal with the world tomorrow.”

#finn o'hara #leo knut #logan tremblay #rating: t #cw: food #cw: implied bullying #cw: swearing #cw: minor illness #sweater weather #lumosinlove

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shslfanficreader · 3 years

Text

What they’re like playing with your hair - G/N reader

Warnings: Talk of being in the shower/bath together but nothing ns//fw, language, unbetaed

Characters Included: Taka, Mondo, Kazuichi, Fuyuhiko, Korekiyo, Kokichi

Taka:

General

He’s apprehensive about touching you at all

He’s so, so gentle

Doesn’t want to hurt you at all or make you feel uncomfortable

The first time he gently reaches out to tuck your hair behind your ear, his hand is shaking

But if you reassure him with a smile, he’ll give you his adorable little smile back

As he gets more comfortable with touching your hair, he starts playing with it more and more, until if you’re sitting next to him, it’s odd if he doesn’t have his hand close to your head and your hair in between his fingers

He sits with his hand just running over your hair a lot

It calms him and he likes the way it feels on his hands

It’s a way for him to know you’re there with him without clutching onto your hand or something of the sort

When he plays with your hair, it calms him down, but it also makes him feel closer to you

He considers it something quite intimate

And is really glad that you’ll let him do it with you

Long

He’s too scared of making you uncomfortable or getting shampoo in your eyes to shower or bathe with you

But he likes brushing your hair

He sections it into parts and brushes through each part 50 times each

He used to do 100 passes for each section but that ended up taking a bit too long

His favourite part of brushing your hair is when he gets to check for knots at the end by trailing his fingers through it

He just loves the feeling of it

If you sleep with your hair down, you always wake up to his fingers tangled in strands of it

It’s hard to untangle yourself from his fingers without waking him up, but he’d rather wake up than accidentally hurt you

Short

Taka loves the feeling of short hair on his fingers

He likes how if he rubs his hand back and forth over it, his hand will eventually go numb

He always does it slowly and gently

But it still seems like he’s petting you like he would pet a dog

He doesn’t want it to seem like that

He just doesn’t want to mess your hair up

Curly

Has no idea how you do your hair

Like? Can you only brush it when it's wet?

Do your hands get tangled up when you're trying to put it up or style it?

Either way, he'll mostly stick to running his hands over your hair

Until you tell him what he can do

In which case

Put some time aside

Because his hands won't leave your hair until you ask him to stop

He just finds being close to you and playing with your hair so soothing

Coily

Still doesn't know how you do your hair

He doesn't want to twirl it or twist it around his fingers because he doesn't want to do anything wrong

But if you tell him he can, or specify exactly what you like him to do, he'll do it happily

Just make sure he doesn't get tangled up

Because if there's a way, he will find it

Mondo:

General

Tries to be smooth

Is not

Will just grab strands of your hair and twiddle it in between his thumb and forefinger whilst you're having a conversation

And he'll probably make a knot in the process

And not even notice

He likes it when you get out of the shower or bath and your hair's wet

He likes how it looks

And if you dry it, he likes to feel it while it's still warm

It's so relaxing for him

He likes to swish strands of your hair back and forth in your face to get your attention

He likes to nestle his face into the crook of your neck so your hair tickles his face

And he likes to wrap his arms around you, too

Will put his hand on your cheek and slide it up into your hair so he can hold onto it whilst he kisses you

Long

He tries to be cool and twists strands of your hair around his fingers, twirling them

Why that makes him cool, who knows

That is, until it ends up in a tangle and he can’t free his hand without your help

He likes to come up behind you and sweep your hair out of your face so you can see him as he leans over your shoulder

You usually end up with a kiss being placed on your cheek when that happens

Short

Loves the feeling of the very ends of your hair on his hands

It’s feels a bit spikey, and he like

Will try to style it into a mohawk

Does not necessarily succeed

He loves the feeling of the ends of your hair, prickly against his lips when he kisses you on the head

Curly

Pulls it out and let's it spring back into it's curl when he's flirting with you

For some reason he thinks this is a good move

(It's not)

(Just pretend it is though. Please. For both his sanity and his self-esteem's sake)

Likes to run his hands through your hair so it bounces back up

Even if this ends with his hands trapped in your hair sometimes

Coily

Please let him put his hands in your hair

Why? Who knows

He just loves the feeling surrounding his hands

Is for some reason very interested in the way your hair bounces and moves

It's just mesmerizing, yo

Kazuichi:

General

He really likes how it is naturally

He doesn’t think you need to straighten or curl it or anything like that

But he won’t say anything if you want to do that

He dyes his hair pink. He can’t say shit

He will dye your hair if you let him

A bright colour, of course

If you’re willing to go as far as to match with his pink hair, he’d love it

Because you would look like that odd couple that matches their outfits

But hair!

And pink hair is just great anyway

He would nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck, place one hand on your back or your waist, and one hand in your hair

And just be there with you

You get a lot of hugs and cuddles with him

He would love it if you used some kind of scented hair product

He likes being able to inhale and tell you’re with him

(He may or may not have a bottle of your shampoo just so he can smell it)

He fidgets a lot

Including with your hair

He strokes your hair a lot and buries his hands in it

Even if he ends up with his hands tangled

Which he usually does

Long

Pretty good at braiding/plaiting

If your hair goes down your back, he’ll rest his head just at the base of your neck and embrace you

If you want him to let go, you’ll have to ask him to

He runs his fingers through your hair, and leaves just an inch or two so he can gently tug at it and runs those ends over his hands

It tickles him, just a little

He likes the feeling of it though

Short

Will try to style your hair so it looks like you have horns

(He doesn’t always succeed)

Or just tries to spike it all up

Because he thinks it looks cool as fuck

And he's right

And it's a bonus that he gets to run his hands all over your hair and feel all the spiky ends

Curly

Doesn’t understand why you can’t just brush your hair like people with straight hair can

He once tried to help you out by brushing it

The brush was caught in your hair

And it took a long time to get it out

He’s really sorry

He won’t do it again

He just wanted to do something nice for you

And it backfired

As many things do for him

Why can’t he just do one thing right

(Cuddle him after this, please)

Coily

Loves the way your hair feels

Will just rest his hands on it

Or his face on it

If you let him, that is

He's a weird boy

But also the most tender boy when he's not being awkward

He's kind of fascinated in the texture of your hair. He just really loves it

And it feels so nice to him, whether it's soft or a bit wirey

Will twirl it between his fingers because he just likes the feeling that much

Oh, and it's attached to you

So that's an added bonus

Fuyuhiko:

General

Gives the best head scratches

Why? No one knows

Just absolutely amazing at giving head scratches

Also head massages

If you like either of those things, he’ll do them fo you whenever you want

Especially if you want comfort

Then your head massage will turn into a neck massage

And in turn a back massage

And he is the best at massaging shampoo into your hair

Just make sure he’s careful about it dripping in your eyes

If you’re sitting down or shorter than him, he’ll walk up to you a place a kiss on top of your head

And then just walk off as if nothing happened

Touchier with you than anyone would think he could ever be

His favourite position to cuddle with you in is one of his hands in your hair and his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck

He also gives you head pats it this position

It makes him feel like he’s doing something nice for you

And he also gets to cuddle you?

Even better

Long

He pushes your hair back a lot so he can give you little kisses on your jawline and just under your ear

If you're lucky he'll give you accidental butterfly kisses too

He thinks grabbing the end of your hair and giving it a couple of gentle tugs makes him look like a Bad Boy

(It doesn't)

(But it is cute)

Short

He pushes his hand back through his hair sometimes, especially when he's thinking

And he does that with your hair too

Not because he's thinking

He just does it so much it feels like a really natural for him to do it

And he likes the feeling on his hands

Just tickling his palms a little

And he pushes your hair out of your face when he does it

And he likes that

Because he can see your face more easily

And he thinks you’re really pretty

(You think he’s really pretty too)

Curly

Loves your hair

Especially when it’s wet

He likes how you move and swish it when you’re drying it

And how sometimes you accidentally flick drops of water at him

And how it’s still just a little damp when he runs his fingers through it

And even how when your hair springs up from his hands, it still leaves some tendrils wrapped around his fingers

Actually, tangled around his fingers would be more accurate

Coily

If your hair’s long enough, he’ll grab it all and gather it up like he’s going to put it in a ponytail

Only to let go and watch how it goes back into its natural position

He could do this over and over if you’d let him

Why?

He just likes it

The way it looks

The way it feels

And the way you give him an amused look if he does it just one too many times

Korekiyo:

General

He has long hair himself, so he knows how to take care of hair, unless it’s very different to his

After learning about what people in different cultures use to take care of their hair he’s gathered some products to try

And he’ll let you try any of them too

Because he got them for himself they’re for his hair type but is more than happy for you to use them no matter what yours is, as long as you know what they’re for

He has a lot of conditioning treatments like masks and oils

He loves bathing with you so you can use a hair treatment together

Especially if you let him apply it, massage it in, and wash it out

He takes a lot of interest in how you do your hair

He likes to watch you style it, even if it’s just brushing it or pulling it out of your face

And he’ll help you style it if you want

If you do anything special with your hair (use certain products that are a must have, sleep with a silk pillow etc.) he’ll make sure he has everything you need to do those things at his house too, so you don’t need to be running those things back and forth from your place

If you need to be comforted for any reason, his go to is to hold you and gently glide his hand over your hair and down your back

He won’t let just anyone touch his hair so it means a lot to him that you’ll let him touch yours so freely

Long

He likes to brush your hair if you let him, and somehow he never hurts you

He goes very slowly and makes sure he gets every little knot

He likes to help you wash your hair too

It feels very intimate, and he likes helping you with your self care to make you feel pampered and loved

He’s really good at braiding and plaiting hair, so if you ever want him to braid your hair, all you have to do is ask

Honestly? Amazing at hairstyling in general

And he knows a 100 different ways to keep hair out of your face

Need a hair tie? He has two

And probably a ribbon as well

Short

A lot of the time, when you’re close or cuddling, his hand ends up on your hair

He thinks it’s kind of like caressing your cheek

But less weird if he leaves his hand there for extended periods of time

He like how wisps of your hair feel going through his fingers

And he will give you a head massage if you’re into that

He like to kiss you on the top of your head

He likes the feeling of your hair on his lips

Curly

He knows that sometimes you brush your hair in the shower, and he’d love to help you with that if you’ll let him

As long as he’s not hurting you, of course

Please teach him how you take care of your hair so he can help you

Coily

He would love to learn about how you take care of your hair and how it differs from what he does

He’d watch you style it and try to take in everything

If he felt confident enough, or you offered to teach him, he’d try to help you style your hair in a way that works for you, even if he needs to put in some effort and time into it

Because it’s worth the effort if he can help you or make you feel loved or beautiful in any way

Kokichi:

General

He’ll probably be a little shit at first

He would start by pulling and tugging on your hair to annoy you

But if he actually hurt you he would get upset and probably cry

He would probably say “it’s a lie!” As soon as you said you were okay

But he still never does it again

He loves ruining your hair

Do not spend much time on your hair you’re going to be spending time with Kokichi

It will be ruined

Whether on purpose or accidentally

If you let him shower with you, he would love to shampoo your hair and mould it into funny shapes

Just don’t let him wash it out

He tries, but he’s not the best at keeping the shampoo from getting in your eyes

If your hair smells good he will let you know, and he will sniff it not matter where you are

The only time he really gently plays with your hair is when you’re both relaxing or going to sleep

If your head is on his lap he’d gently twist strands of your hair between his fingers

And if you were laying in bed together he would gently run his hand over your hair, but not run his fingers through it in fear of waking you up

He’s very silly when he’s playing with your hair, but he doesn’t want to hurt you or annoy you (too much)

He’s very sweet, even when he’s messing around

It all comes from a place of love

Long

He would love to grab the end of all of your hair and throw it up in the air so it goes everywhere

And he loves to hold it next to his head to see what he’d look like with longer hair

He likes to brush your hair but is really bad at getting knots out

You might have to untangle the brush out of your hair once he stops trying

Short

Loves ruffling your hair so it sticks up everywhere

He loves the feeling of short hair, so he kinda just rubs his hand on your head sometimes

Not like a head massage though

It’s too fast and rough for that

But he doesn’t hurt you and it’s adorable, so you don’t stop him unless it’s really bothering you

In which case he’ll pout at you but stop anyway

He can bother you in another way if he really wants to

Curly

He’s gotten his fingers trapped in your curls more than once

He’s very bad at getting his hand out

The first time it happened he just panicked and tried to tug it out, and tugged your head in the process

He was really sorry though

Coily

Thinks your hair is the best pillow ever

No matter how long it is

He will put his head directly on top of yours to prove this

Is just generally mesmerised by how your hair sits

And how you style it

If you straighten your hair, he loves washing it for you so he can watch how it goes back into its natural pattern

Will pull strands of your hair out so it’s straight and let it spring back into it’s coil

#danganronpa #danganronpa 2 #danganronpa v3 #sdr2 #drv3 #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #kiyotaka ishimaru #mondo owada #kazuichi souda #fuyuhiko kuzuryuu #korekiyo shinguji #kokichi ouma

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onlydreamofmysoul · 3 years

Text

Let Them Eat Cake: The Final

We made it! I want to thank you guys so so much for the fantastic support you've given this story, it means the world to me. Bake Off has a special place in my heart and so does this fic, so its been so great to share it with you all!

(Links to all previous chapters can be found pinned on my page under 'Let Them Eat Cake' or pop over to my AO3 - link in bio)

Without further ado, I give you... The Final!

This week on the final of The Great British Bake Off…

“It looks like you’re having a smashing time.”

“Tell us about your first kiss.”

“And the winner is…”

Remus Lupin was having a nice morning.

There had been nothing of interest to note, however he didn’t have an alarm blaring and he was warm and snuggly, so all in all, he took it as a win.

Until one Lily Evans took it upon herself to sneak into his room and throw herself on him like she was a kid on Christmas morning.

“Finals, finals, finals!” She exclaimed, managing to find a tone that was somehow both singing and chanting all at once.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Remus groaned, covering his eyes with his forearms. “Can I go back in time and just never apply to this fucking competition?”

Lily rolled off him, her big green eyes staring at him concerned. “What's the matter? Do you not want to be here?”

Remus peeked out at her. “No, I don’t want you to be here.” He smirked as she rolled her eyes, flopping back on the pillows next to him.

“Asshat.” She grumbled, hitting his shoulder with a light ‘thwack’. “I was worried for a sec.”

Remus grinned at her and then stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, only the sounds of their breathing and his heartbeat in his ears to keep him company.

Finals, they had made it to the finals.

He still couldn’t quite believe it. “Welcome to the finals.” McGonagall had said to him just before he left the tent, the words playing over and over again in his head, as clear as if she had said them yesterday.

(Which in fact, she had. This was the first time Remus would go to the practice tent and Tonks wouldn’t be there, but there was still an undeniable elation blossoming in his chest).

Five days until filming resumed. Six until the winner was announced. It didn’t seem real.

(But if this were a fantasy, Remus never wanted to return to reality).

“So where’s Sirius on this fine morning?” Lily asked, breaking the silence. Remus turned his head to look at her, completely relaxed and sinking into the bed. It would seem his lazy morning mood had seeped into her instead of her vibrant energy going to him.

“We’re not together every night.” He said, looking at the freckles splashed across her nose. They were darker now than they had been when they arrived. “We’re taking things slow.”

Lily just stared at him sceptically.

“It’s true!” He defenced. “We are!”

“You’re such a bad liar.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

Remus groaned and smacked her with a pillow. Victory.

“You never answered the question.” Lily said, muffled under the cushion. Or maybe victory had another champion in mind.

“Okay yes, he’s here most nights, but it doesn’t feel fast.” He defended, and it was true. Somehow it felt almost like they had known each other forever and yet still there was the thrill and excitement that came with everything being so new.

“It doesn’t seem fast either.” Lily reassured. “Maybe for others it would be, but I think it’s right for you two.”

Remus let out a little breath of relief. He hadn’t been worried exactly, but his thoughts had slipped in that direction a few times. More than anything, he just worried about scaring Sirius off, while still feeling secure in himself? Remus really didn’t know, the emotion centre of his body was really sending out mixed signals these days.

He had just decided to say fuck it to logic and stick to how he felt. And he felt good. Really good.

“Not that this little revelation wasn’t nice,” Lily said, “But you still haven’t answered the question I asked. Little tip? If this baking thing doesn’t work out, definitely don’t become a spy. If you were captured you’d accidentally reveal all the information without them even having to ask you.”

Remus groaned. “I hate you. He and James were hanging out last night.”

Lily grinned, satisfied and gave Remus another little shove. “Okay, come on I wanna go bake.”

“You’d think you’d have enough baking for a lifetime.” Remus grumbled but he got up all the same. In actuality, now that he was awake, Remus too was buzzing to get into the tent and get to work. “What’re you planning for this week?” He asked as he threw on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, having taken a shower the night before.

“I can’t give away my secrets!” Lily teased, holding open the door as Remus grabbed his key and they both swept out of the room and down the plush carpeted corridor.

“You are aware I’m gonna find out either way right? Cause if you still haven’t grasped that concept then I’m a little worried to be-”

“Oh hush,” Lily laughed, pressing her palm to Remus’ mouth. “I’m still not a hundred percent sure to be honest.”

They stepped outside, the cool crisp air falling over them, revitalizing them. Remus tucked his hands into his pockets and felt his shoulders hunch a little. His lungs liked the cold, the rest of his body - not so much.

“I’m not sure if I know what I’m doing either.” He admitted. “I have a few ideas, but none of them feel quite right, you know?”

Lily nodded as they reached the practice tent, pulling open the door. “Yeah I think that’s my issue too. There’s suddenly so much pressure and nothing I consider seems to be good enough.”

Remus sighed as he pulled two aprons off the hooks and tossed one to Lily. “I suppose we’ll have to figure it out.” He said, before taking out the recipe cards he had brought with him and began flicking through them for inspiration.

Five days. He could do this.

“Well, well, well, look who we have here.” Remus said with a grin as he trod through the grass, rounding the big oak tree to see Sirius waiting on their swing.

“I know,” Sirius drawled. “It’s almost like we planned it.”

Remus smiled, sitting by his side, holding the rope in one hand as he held out a Tupperware encased offering. “Want some cake?”

Sirius took the box gladly, his hair tied up but the wind had claimed a few loose strands, whipping them around his face like a dark halo. “Always. What kind?”

Remus tucked one foot into his chest, resting his cheek on his knee as he studied the other man. “Try it and find out.”

Sirius' lips quirked at Remus’ teasing tone, looking at the deep brown colour that really could only be one flavour. “Elderflower?” He joked.

Remus laughed and took a bite himself before holding out to Sirius. “Yes,” He said, completely deadpan. “That’s exactly what it is.”

Sirius smiled and kissed him, biting his lip as he pulled away. “You taste like chocolate.”

Remus flushed. “Don’t you mean elderflower?”

Sirius chuckled, rocking the swing a little more, tilting his head back to look at the twisting branches above them. “Look,” He murmured, pointing to a clump of twigs high in the tree. “A bird's nest.” Remus followed his line of sight and watched as a bird swooped overhead and landed in it gracefully.

“That was kinda cool.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t shit on us.”

“Sirius!” Remus exclaimed, elbowing the other man as he laughed. “Let’s hope your hair can take the hit and shield us.”

“Oi! My hair is what should be protected at all costs, it’s a national treasure. You know, I think I should replace you with Tonks, she knows the importance of hair care.”

Remus smiled, resting his head on Sirius’ shoulder, the fabric of his jacket soft against his cheek. “Tell me something I don't know about you.”

The wind whipped through the branches, but Remus wasn’t cold pressed up against Sirius. The tree sheltered them from the worst of it and the weather was slowly getting a little warmer, daffodils springing up all around the tent. There were many things Remus had always wanted but never saw himself actually achieving. Coming to bake off was one. Making it to the final was another. And perhaps the most notable - finding someone who might love him as much as he loved them. And yet, here he was with all three.

“When I was a kid, I used to want to be a dog so bad, I was always getting in trouble for wearing holes in my pants because I would crawl instead of walking normally. I even refused to answer to ‘Sirius’.”

“Oh yeah?” Remus asked, amused. “What was your alter ego’s name then?”

He could hear Sirius’ smile even if he couldn’t see it. “Padfoot. He was this big black dog. I got the idea after I read about ‘The Grimm’ in one of my cousin’s books and I guess it kind of stuck.”

“Padfoot,” Remus repeated, unable to stop himself. “I like that.”

“Your turn,” Sirius urged, nudging Remus lightly. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

Remus’ heart fluttered, stomach rolling a little, he had news for Sirius, and had honestly engineered the entire conversation just to tell him, but now that the moment was here, he was getting nervous.

“I’ve been offered a job in London.”

Sirius froze under Remus’ cheek. “In London?”

“Yeah.”

“London, England?”

Remus chuckled as he sat up to look at Sirius’ stunned face, grey eyes wide, lips parted. “Yes, London, England.”

Sirius blinked. “But I live in London.”

Remus pursed his lips, trying not to smile too much. “I’m aware of this, yes.”

“You… we… we’d be living in the same country. In the same city.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“Remus motherfucking Lupin, that's the best thing I’ve heard all week.”

“Your flour is about to tip over.” Tonks commented, carelessly filing her nails over facetime as Remus ran around his station, trying to do several things at once.

“Oh my god Lupin, you’re a disaster, how did you even get into this competition?” Tonks teased as Remus caught the flour but promptly dropped it on the flour, a white cloud erupting, coating everything in a two meter radius in powder.

“Not very helpful.” Remus grumbled as he shook flour out of his hair and grabbed a cloth to wipe down the counter.

“I wasn’t trying to be helpful.” Tonks paused and looked at the recipe Remus had sent her. “You’re gonna need at least double the vanilla extract than what you have there.” Remus grabbed the recipe and looked it over, seeing she was right. “See?” Tonks said gleefully as Remus scratched out the original amount. “That was me being helpful.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but blew her a kiss, wiping the dusty screen of his phone which had not escaped the great flour disaster.

“Come on,” He said as he walked with his phone to the store room, as if Tonks had any other choice than to accompany him. “We’re gonna get some more flour.” He set his phone down on a shelf as he looked for the right flour, Tonks chatting away. If Remus closed his eyes he could almost pretend she was right there with him, the pair of them practising for whatever challenges they were soon to face.

“So where’s Lily on this fine evening?” Tonks questioned. “Don’t you two usually practice together around now?”

“Yeah,” Remus grunted as he picked up his phone, tucking it under his chin with his hands full. “But she was busy tonight.”

“No fucking way, she’s with James?”

“Well, I don’t know for sure.” Remus admitted, “But she sounded pretty suspicious.”

“Ooh.” Tonks gasped and Remus began carefully measuring flour and continuing where he left off. “All the Bake Off love this year.”

Remus laughed as he folded in his sugar, putting the batter in the oven before beginning to prepare the icing. “Oh hush you.”

Tonks just winked, sticking out her tongue. “You know you love me.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased as punch to welcome you to this year's Great British Bake off; the final!”

Sirius groaned, head tipping back at James’ enthusiastic introduction. “You did not just say ‘pleased as punch’.”

James feigned being hurt, placing a hand over his heart. “What would you prefer? Pleased as pudding? Pleased as pie?”

Sirius looked straight into the camera, his face blank but his amused eyes giving him away. “Someone please give me a new co-host, I can’t take this anymore.”

James laughed as he threw an arm over Sirius’ shoulder, the two of them easing the nerves of everyone in the tent tenfold. “Don’t worry Sirius darling, you haven’t got too long left with me because, like I said, we’ve reached the final!”

Remus smiled, hiding the hands he was wringing together under the table. It was the weirdest feeling - he was at once completely calm and so incredibly nervous. He couldn’t help but giggle at the antics of the infamous marauders and recalled that morning, lying in bed when Sirius had queried how much bullshit he’d be able to spout without any prior preparation. Remus had told him to go get ready but had promptly led them to activities that were in no way helpful to the rest of the day's events.

(It had been a good way to start the day though).

McGonagall and Dumbledore stood at the front of the tent, looking out at the eerily empty work stations, only three now filled. Remus and Lily were in the front two and Kingsley had come up to slot in behind Lily.

“We have a very exciting two days lined up,” Sirius said as he clasped his hands together, a natural in front of the cameras. Our bakers have no overall theme, so we’re going to get to see a little splash of everything!”

“For our signature challenge, our bakers have been asked to bake something that fits in with the theme of ‘final’’.” James said, taking his turn to speak again. “It can be anything from a cake inspired by the final book in a series or the last thing you had to eat, because tonight, there are no limits other than your imagination.”

Remus snorted and Sirius’ eyes found his as he elbowed James lightly. “Dramatic much.” He drawled before rubbing his hands together gleefully. “Are you ready?”

“On your marks,”

“Get set.”

“Bake!”

Remus hadn’t realised how much he would miss Tonks in the tent. He had missed her all week, but it wasn’t as if they ever had much chance to chat while they were filming, so he had thought it would be a little easier. But the tent was unusually quiet without her clattering at her station, inevitably breaking at least one piece of crockery per challenge.

“It’s too quiet,” Lily murmured, echoing Remus’ thoughts. “I almost feel like we’re not allowed to talk.”

Remus chuckled, remembering exams in home economics when he had been in secondary school and the teacher who would happily dole out zero marks if she so much as saw your lips move.

He grinned, taking a bowl he didn’t need from his station and ‘accidentally’ dropping it on the ground, the ceramic splitting with a loud crack.

“Oops!” He said loudly, glad he hadn’t ever tried to go into the theatre business, he was truly a terrible actor, and ran to grab a broom, not without winking at Lily who blew him a kiss.

“Much better, thanks!” She yelled after him and he just chuckled, disposing of the broken bowl, but not without slipping a shard into his apron pockets to take home with him as a little reminder.

Sirius meandered over after a little while as Remus put a tin in the oven to cook the soon-to-be sponge fingers for his tiramisu.

“You seem to be having a smashing time.” Sirius teased, his eyes alight.

“James already made that joke a few weeks ago.” Remus said laughing as he poured double cream into a bowl. “It’s really not that funny.”

Sirius just stuck out his tongue and moved to the next station, but Remus knew that had it been just the two of them, it was far more likely that Sirius would have taken much offence to the attack on his sense of humour, and a good snog would have been needed to make up for it.

James arrived no sooner than Sirius had left, peering into the bowl of ingredients that Remus was whipping, looking very much like he was contemplating dipping his finger in for a taste.

Marlene arrived, camera on her shoulder, surveying Remus’ station, sceptically watching Remus grate his dark chocolate.

“So Remus,” She began, fiddling with the lens to zoom in on his hands. “What has tiramisu got to do with the ‘final’ theme?”

“Well,” He said, suddenly feeling shy, wishing he didn’t have to explain. “Tonks, Andromeda Tonks, that is, had been planning to make a tiramisu for this episode, but she unfortunately was eliminated last week, so instead I’m making it.”

Some of the crew members cooed softly and Remus rolled his eyes, even as he blushed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m a big softie.” He glanced at Marlene once, smirking, then returned to his work, “Now fuck off and let me get on with it.”

“One of these days, Remus motherfucking Lupin,” Marlene grumbled as she walked away, not before snagging a square of chocolate to munch on, “One of these days I’m going to get you back.”

Remus’ dish was made pretty quickly, the most important part was leaving it in the fridge for as long as possible, so as soon as he had carefully layered the sponge and cream and chocolate of course, he set the fridge to the lowest temperature and put the big dish in. He had an idea of how he wanted to present it, but that all depended on whether or not it would be set properly.

He cleaned his station and set up everything he needed for when the dessert was set, but that only took ten minutes. Watching Lily and Kingsley rush around their stations while Remus had nothing left to do made him feel like he was back in school, the horrid panic of completing a test, thinking it was easy, then looking up to discover everyone else was still working intently. He put himself to work to avoid the fluttering in his chest, different to the loved up buzz he had been experiencing recently, no this tightness was more akin to the ‘oh no have I had ten shots of espresso’ variety. Remus wasn’t the biggest fan.

He made tea for the crew, including the judges and presenters, checked the progress of his dish, then made himself walk away from the fridge, lest he open it too often and slow down the cooling process. He chatted with Lily a bit while she worked and did an interview with James and Sirius, some more filler content now that there weren’t nearly as many bakers to keep up with, but the airing time of the show hadn’t changed.

“Need a hand?” He offered, turning to Lily who was crouched by her oven, gazing intently at her cake. “Nah I’m good.” She said, not looking up, “I don’t have anything to do until this little guy is cooked.”

“They never tell you how much waiting around there is.” Remus groaned, hopping up on his worktop. “I have been just sitting here for the best part of over an hour and I bet none of this is going to make the final cut.”

“You’d be right there!” Marlene chimed in, passing them on her way to video whatever complicated technique Kingsley was currently demonstrating. Remus raised an eyebrow at Lily, sighed and jumped off the counter. “I’m gonna check on my cakes now, thank you very much.”

Remus both loved and hated how there was no official ranking for the first challenge. He definitely loved it on days where he hadn’t done very well and didn’t want his failings it be broadcasted even more than they already had been, but today, with only three contestants left and the competition tangible, he wanted to know how much more impressive his next two bakes were going to have to be.

He supposed it didn’t really matter - he was going to do his very best no matter what.

Lily had made a cake shaped like a knitted hat, the piping terrifyingly realistic, in commemoration of the last hat her grandmother had made before she passed away. Kingsley had a coffee flavoured graduation cap to honour his girlfriend who was in her final year of college.

“We’re a bunch of sentimental saps.” Lily muttered to them both as they all walked out of the tent to go for lunch, the judges' praises ringing in their ears. They all seemed to be standing on equal footing for now.

“I know,” Remus groaned, throwing himself down on the grass under the sun. “I should have just done like, the final countdown or something.”

“Tonks is never gonna let you live this down.” Kinsley piped in.

“God, don’t remind me. I might just have to kill her before the episode airs, you know, save my reputation and all.”

“Oh, a spot of murder, how lovely.” James chirped as he and Sirius arrived, having been sent to retrieve all of their lunches, the three bakers claiming that they were too tired and as they always fed everyone else, it was time to switch it up.

James passed out sandwiches, pulling them from a bag, while Sirius handed Remus a salad.

Remus kissed Sirius on the cheek, “Thanks sweetheart.”

It took Remus a moment to realise what he had done, a moment more to remember that it was only Kingsley who hadn’t already known about their relationship. Kingsley who was looking very nonchalant and in no way surprised.

“Oh,” He said between bites, looking at Remus and Sirius’ panicked looks. “Was this meant to be a secret?”

Remus just burst out laughing, any tension that had appeared, vanishing in seconds. “I suppose we’re not very good at hiding it, huh?”

“Oi, speak for yourself.” Sirius jostled as he unwrapped his sandwich. “I’m an excellent secret keeper.”

“Alright everybody, welcome to the technical challenge of this year’s final!” James reintroduced them, everyone having returned to their stations, fresh aprons tied around their waist and judges standing at the top of the room watching over the proceedings.

“For our last technical challenge, the judges are asking you to make a classic sponge cake, but with a little twist.”

Remus eyed the mysterious pile of ingredients under the cloth on his table. He both loved and hated that blue and white gingham pattern, hated it because he wasn’t the biggest lover of surprises, and loved it because… well, because it was cute.

(Not every answer was super deep. The Pinterest boy in him was in love with the entire aesthetic of The Great British Bake Off).

“Our lovely judges have also requested that you make at least twelve meringue kisses to top your sponge cake.”

Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise - it wasn’t like the judges to add anything to something as classic as a sponge cake, but who was he to question? This was the final, anything was possible.

James and Sirius chattered on for a few more minutes, and then they were off, the three contestants whipping off their gingham cloths like a magician unveiling his assistant. Remus barely glanced at the vague recipe before setting off to make the meringues first. Their small size was deceptive and that’s why Remus thought the judges had included them - but they would take the most time to bake and cool.

He set about whipping egg whites and sugar as Marlene arrived by his side, taking a moment just to pan the camera over everything he was doing.

“Meringue kisses,” Marlene said, with a smug sounding tone. “Such a cute name. Go on Remus, tell us about your first kiss.”

Remus laughed, caught off guard, nearly spilling the extra sugar he was adding to the bowl. “Alright, which first kiss do you want to hear about? Cause technically I have a few.”

Marlene giggled with him and Remus felt like he was a schoolgirl, chatting about boys and kisses, like they were the beginning and end of everything. “The very first one.”

Remus could help but laugh again, shaking his head fondly at the memory. “It was awful.” he said, chuckling to himself. “I was thirteen and I kissed this girl called Mary on a dare.” He paused to look at the camera more directly. “Mary if you’re watching this, I’d apologise but we both know I’m right. That was a shit kiss.”

Remus grinned as he realised Marlene was going to let that explicative slide for the purpose of the story. Victorious at last.

“What about your other ‘first’ kisses.” Marlene prompted, overall looking thoroughly delighted by the stories. Remus paused for a moment to stop his mixer and run a spatula around the edge of the bowl to ensure everything was mixing well, before turning the mixer back on and stepping back.

“Well my first kiss with a boy was a year later and since my previous make-out experience consisted of the one kiss you already know about, I think it’s fair to say; that was pretty crap too.” He grinned at Marlene and started measuring the butter for his cake. “But it did solve the whole ‘sexuality crisis’ thing I had going on, so that was fun.”

He deemed his meringue mix whipped-enough so he carefully spooned batches into an icing bag and began piping tiny amounts onto a baking sheet.

“Then I suppose, there’s your first kiss with someone who really matters,” He said carefully, not looking up from his work. “With the person who’s so amazing that every kiss feels a little bit like the first one. Kinda makes you feel like every other kiss you’ve ever had was just practice for this exact moment.”

Remus was aware that his cheeks were a little pink, but then again, when were they not?

“And you’ve found that person?” Marlene asked softly, as Remus piped his last little swirl. He didn’t have to think about it, but he did suppose he should tell the person in question before quite literally broadcasting it to the nation. So instead he just winked.

“Sirius,” Remus said softly, later that night as they lay in bed, a movie playing in the background, Remus’ adrenaline still high from winning the technical challenge. “I know it’s early, so I'm not expecting anything back but since I might have just heavily implied it on national television I figured I should probably tell you that I’m in love with you.”

Sirius’ head didn’t move from Remus’ chest, instead he reached out and grabbed Remus’ free hand, pressing his knuckles to his soft lips. “I know.”

“You do?” Remus asked incredulously, trying (and failing) not to splutter.

Sirius chuckled, his voice deep. “Yeah, you said it in your sleep last night. Plus, I watched over the footage from today and I saw.”

Remus blushed. “Oh.”

Sirius twisted in his arms so Remus could finally see his eyes. They were sparkling and a playful smile twisted on Sirius’ lips.

“I love you too, you know.” Sirius said casually, as if commenting on the weather. Remus let his head drop back onto the pillow as a whoosh of relief escaped his mouth. Sure he hadn't expected to have Sirius say it back but this feeling was like nothing he had ever experienced before.

“Well no, I didn’t, actually.” Remus quipped, much to the ceiling’s amusement. “But it’s good to know.”

Suddenly Sirius was leaning over him, his hair falling around their faces like a dark curtain. “So are you gonna kiss me or what?”

Remus bit his lip, failing in his attempt not to smile. “Nah,” He said, a blatant lie as he raised himself onto his elbows and pressed their lips together. Sirius twisted so he could support himself on one arm, cupping Remus’ face with the other. “I loved what you said earlier,” He murmured against Remus’ lips. “About the first kiss thing. And I really, really love you.”

Remus just grinned against Sirius’ lips and pulled him closer. “Love you too. Now shut up and kiss me.”

“What’re you looking all smug about?” Lily teased, bumping their hips together as they strolled down to the tent. Remus had so many reasons for the butterflies in his chest, he could hardly stop his hands from shaking, but the smile hadn’t left his face since he woke up.

“Oh you know,” He said, waving his hand in feigned nonchalance. “I’m just a boy in love.”

“Fuck off, you said ‘I love you’?” Lily asked, her voice going up an octave.

“Mhm,” Remus confirmed, nodding. “So now you need to woman-up and kiss James fucking Potter like we both know you’ve wanted to do since the first day.” Lily looked as if she might protest, but Remus cut her off. “We both know I’m right. Plus, it’s fairly obvious that the feeling’s mutual, so for the love of all things holy, put the rest of us out of our misery and just snog the poor bugger.”

Lily laughed, even as she blushed and tried to shrug Remus off. “You know,” She started, shooting him a glare that was in no way intimidating. “I’m really not sure I like ‘in love Remus’.”

Remus just winked and kissed the top of her head, smirking wickedly. “I think we both know that’s a lie.”

“It’s here, the final.”

“We’ve already completed half of the final James.”

“Yeah but this is like… the final part of the final.”

“Someone please tell me why I’m friends with this bloke.”

“Oi!”

“Anyways!” Sirius interrupted. “I suppose James wasn’t fully wrong. We made it to the final stretch.”

“It’s time,” James took over, “For my personal favourite challenge. The showstopper.”

Sirius clasped his hands together in front of himself and Remus had to stop himself from staring at the movement. “For our final showstopper, our judges would like to see you recreate a memory.”

“It could be anything,” James continued, “From a chocolate Easter egg to a fondue waterfall, but it has to be your own memory and most importantly, it has to be edible.”

“Otherwise; we’d be the Great British Fake Off.” Sirius quipped and everyone in the tent collectively groaned, which only seemed to spur Sirius on even more.

“If our bakers are ready, I think we’ll begin. Ready Prongs?”

“Ready Pads.”

“On your marks,”

“Get set,”

“Bake!”

And maybe for the first time starting a challenge, Remus’ hands didn’t shake.

“Wotcha-makin?” Sirius asked, leaning around one side of Remus as James curved around the other.

“Cake.” Remus replied, not looking at either of them as he carefully evened out the batter in his tin before popping it in the oven. He then turned to face the two presenters, giving them exactly thirty seconds of his time for a round of rapid fire questions before he had to rush straight back into his work.

“What are you making?”

“A swing in a tree.”

“What kind of cake are you working with?”

“Mostly chocolate, but I have a few other elements working in.”

“What’s the memory you chose?”

Remus smiled softly. “One of my first real kisses.”

Sirius and James thanked him and left again, allowing him to get back to work. Remus had already filled Sirius in on all the details of his cake, he had even checked that it would be okay to use that idea in the first place. Sirius had just kissed him in response, enthusiastically and at length. The bakers had given all their details to the presenters and the camera crew before, so they could insert a voice-over effect to inform the audience of what was happening as the contestants were even more busy and focused than usual and weren’t giving too many interviews.

Remus had chosen several circular cake pans, in a range of different sizes and was going to stack all the cakes they produced on top of one another to create the tree trunk. The top of the tree was going to be made of a mix of white chocolate melted over Rice Krispies (with a little dash of green food dye thrown in) and moulded to look like the leafy crown of a tree in the summer. The swing would be the hardest to add, made of carefully moulded chocolate, Remus would have to be careful not to make the seat too heavy so that the ‘ropes’ and the actual tree itself would support its weight.

After taking all of his cakes out of the oven and setting them out to cool, and creating the swing set, Remus made the chocolate buttercream icing that would decorate the tree trunk. He carefully layered his cakes, using a knife to cut off the rough edges and make the cake slope gently upwards before slathering on thick layers of icing. Taking out a small, delicate knife, Remus carefully cut lines and patterns into the icing, aiming for it to look like the bark of a tree. Finally satisfied, he began melting the white chocolate to make the tree top.

“Looking good Re!” Lily enthused from behind her, forearms splattered in icing as she decorated her own cake, a letter with a bright red seal. Kingsley was working away too, apparently recreating the cover of the CD he bought the day his daughter was born.

“Celine Dion,” He had told Remus yesterday, chuckling. “I had never listened to her before, I don’t even know why I bought it, I just left the hospital with a need to celebrate and the music shop was the first place I came across. But what do you know? It turns out that my little girl loves it.”

Remus grinned at the memory, sweet even to him and admired Lily’s cake out loud. “It’s the acceptance letter to my college,” She was explaining to the camera. “I got a full scholarship, so it’s pretty special.”

Remus turned his attention to his now-melted chocolate and added the green carefully, not wanting to make it too light or two dark. He had found that five drops got him the colour he was looking for - the pale chocolate requiring that little extra for the colour to darken. He then added the cereal and stirred it in together, folding it in with his spatula.

He gave his hands a thorough wash again as he waited for the mixture to cool just enough that he could mould it, but not so much that it set, and got back to work, spooning the green mix on top of his tree trunk until there was enough for him to start shaping it. He attached the chocolate swing very carefully as soon as he was satisfied and brought it straight to the fridge to set.

And then he was done.

He looked around the tent, thinking surely this couldn’t be it, he must have something more to do, but no, there was nothing left. His cake was made and decorated and now only time could tell what would happen next.

Feeling a tad useless, Remus set about cleaning his station and clicked the kettle, fulfilling his tradition in providing the crew with tea. He had just made his own one when James announced the official ten minute warning. They were nearly done.

Suddenly Remus’ heart was in his chest. He had been impeccably calm until this moment, a fact that had surprised him but he hadn’t questioned as it was much easier to bake when your hands weren’t shaking and your heart wasn’t thundering. But all the adrenaline rushed into him now as he realised that one way or another, he was finished with the Great British Bake Off.

At the ‘two minutes’ call, Remus took his cake out of the fridge and gave it a final look over. He tweaked the carving in the tree trunk and double checked that the swing would hold its place and then Sirius asked everyone to step away from their creations.

Dumbledore and McGonagall re-entered the room. Remus’ pulse matched every step they took.

“Kingsley,” They called, and the man in question carefully walked his cake to the table at the top of the tent. Remus watched as the judges 'oohed' and 'awed', admiring the level of detail, right down to the serial number Kingsley had apparently memorised.

Lily went next, her piping skills on display, demonstrating her lovely cursive handwriting that read her own name and an edited home address, signed and sealed by the headmaster. In their practice bakes, Remus had seen many versions of the cake on display but he had no doubt that this was her best work yet.

Finally it was Remus’ turn, and he walked up to the front carefully, trying to keep his breathing even. He had a mental image of himself falling and his cake going everywhere but he batted it out of his mind. His cake was the tallest by far and god, he could only hope, the best.

Sirius caught his eye as they cut the cake and winked. To anyone else, it would look like a presenter trying to calm the nerves of a contestant, but Remus heard the words that had been whispered to him that morning as the sun rose.

“You’re gonna win this.”

Remus had blushed and batted him away, but Sirius had looked at him earnestly. “No, Re, seriously. They base these things on who does best that week. And you’ve already won the technical. If you go and blow them away today, just like you always do, you’ve got this in the bag.”

Remus blushed and hit his face in a pillow but he linked their legs together.

“Besides,” Sirius teased, rolling on his back and tucking his arms under his head. Cocky. “You’ve already won the best prize.”

Remus had playfully kicked his ankle and Sirius’ resounding laugh still echoed in his ears.

“Ah, Mr Lupin,” Dumbledore began casually as he picked up a knife, perhaps unaware that he held Remus’ future in his hands. “This is rather impressive.”

Remus swallowed as the slices were cut and set onto plates. “Thank you.”

“You have no adventurous flavours for us I see,” McGonagall observed as she picked up her fork.

“No,” Remus confirmed. “Chocolate is my speciality, and well, I wanted to keep it simple.”

That seemed to be all the commentary they wanted as they both nodded with a small smile and took a bite.

“Excellent Mr Lupin.” McGonagall said. And that was it. They were done. The judges thanked them all and retreated to the back room to do whatever it is the judges do and make some decisions. The cast broke into a round of applause and Remus tugged Lily under his arm, Kingsley joining the little hug soon after.

“Can you believe that’s it?” Lily asked them and the two boys just shook their heads.

“No more non-stop baking.” Kingsley sighed. “I don’t know if I’m sad or relieved.”

“Both.” Remus laughed. “Definitely both.”

“Okay you lot,” James interrupted. “We have a little something for you outside.”

They all grinned. As loyal bake-off fans, they all knew what was coming. They walked outside the tent to picnic tables set up and laden with the cakes they made that day, along with all the eliminated contestants of that year and the families of the finalists.

Remus beamed at Tonks before sweeping his mother up into a hug.

“I’m so proud of you!” Hope said to him as she gripped him close. Remus chuckled as he bent to half his size, squeezing her just as tight. “Thanks Mam.”

“Now introduce me to this man of yours.” Hope teased, speaking low even though the microphones were elsewhere and they were surrounded by noise. Remus flushed, but he beckoned Sirius over with a tilt of his chin, so subtle no camera could have caught it. Remus had told his mom about everything and she had been begging for more information, only just stopping short of looking up celebrity gossip, although she did send Remus one or two pictures of Sirius on red carpets with the caption ‘your children would be beautiful’.

Sirius looked more nervous than Remus had ever seen him, holding his hand out to be shaken, but Hope just pulled him into a hug.

“It’s lovely to meet you Mrs Lupin,” Sirius said, looking a little surprised as Hope cupped his face in her hands and gave him a proper look. Remus hid his laugh in his elbow as Hope patted Sirius’ cheek fondly. “You’ve got good taste.” She said to him, tilting her head towards Remus, who blushed.

“The best.” Sirius agreed.

“Remus!” Tonks yelled, tired of being ignored and pulled Remus’ attention elsewhere. “Your cake was brilliant!”

Remus laughed running his fingers through his hair, the pink staining his cheeks permanent it would seem. “Thanks Tonks.”

The bright haired woman just grinned and wrapped an arm around Remus before cheerfully introducing herself to Hope. Sirius excused himself as he had to go with James to chat with the judges and Lily joined them with her parents, Kingsley standing with his family and talking to Fabian about knitting of all things. They sat in the garden, the sun shining bright, a few fluffy white clouds lazing their way across the sky. They chatted about everything and nothing as they munched on an endless amount of cake, Remus just sipping on tea as he hadn’t had the foresight to make anything gluten free. He was distracted, Lily and Kingsley were too and everyone around them knew it, not minding when they drifted in and out of the conversation. As nervous as he was, Remus knew this moment right here was his favourite, living his literal dream, surrounded by friends and family. That even gave him a sense of calm.

Until the presenters and judges emerged from the tent, all wearing welcoming smiles that revealed nothing. They stopped at the table draped in a pristine white cloth and topped with three beautiful flower bouquets and an engraved glass cake stand. There was no big cash prize in the bake-off, and Remus loved that. It made it all the more endearing to him, and it only allowed for the most passionate bakers to enter, the ones who baked for the love of it, not for money.

For once, James and Sirius were quiet, not needing to grab anyone's attention as the focus was already entirely on them. The three remaining bakers lined up before them as they had previously been instructed by the crew, and then the judges began speaking.

“This year, we had the most wonderful collection of bakers,” Dumbledore started, having to pause already as the applause had already commenced. “And our finalists even more so. I do believe this was the most difficult final we’ve had to judge in a long time, isn’t it Minerva?”

“It was,” McGonagall agreed, nodding. “We had a truly fine selection and the most beautiful array of cakes today. But in the end, there can only be one winner.”

Remus was certain everyone in attendance could hear his heartbeat. Lily’s hand was clammy in his own.

“It is with the greatest pleasure that I can announce that this year’s winner of The Great British Bake Off is…”

James and Sirius picked up a bouquet of flowers each, as did Dumbledore, McGonagall presenting the cake stand. Lily squeezed his hand, and Kingsley’s on the other side too he was sure.

“Remus Lupin.”

Remus blinked even as Lily threw herself on him in a bone-crushing hug, the judges approaching him to present him with his prize. Distantly he saw Sirius and James handing flowers to Kingsley and Lily, but he was in a daze. Dumbledore kissed him on the cheeks and McGonagall shook his hand with a knowing wink and suddenly Remus’ arms were heavy with flowers and expertly crafted glass.

Kingsley shook his hand, patting his shoulder in congratulations and James pulled him into a little side hug. Remus beamed at them, the crowd still cheering and clapping behind him as he reached forward and grabbed Sirius’ shirt, pulling him in for a kiss.

The crowd roared behind them and suddenly Remus realised where he was and what he was doing as he pulled away. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He said frantically. “I wasn’t thinking, I fucking shit- Christ- sorry!”

Sirius laughed and wrapped an arm around Remus’ waist. “I’m not. I love you, and I don’t care who knows. Now shut that filthy mouth of yours and kiss me, you absolute wanker.”

So Remus did.

The newspapers the next day had many headlines, but Remus’ personal favourite? ‘BRITISH BAKE OFF - STAR AND BAKER!’

THREE MONTHS LATER

The bakery was loud and busy and completely hectic and Remus loved every single second working there. Not a day went by that he wasn’t teased about his bake-off status and he was working on his degree here in London. Basically his life was everything he ever could have dreamed it would be.

“Remus, there’s someone here for you!” His co-worker, Katie, called from the front of the shop and Remus grinned, not even bothering to take off his apron as he wiped his hands against the fabric, opening the door with his shoulder, thanking Katie for the message even as his eyes scanned the shop floor.

Sirius.

Standing there in his leather jacket, his hands tucked into the pockets, motorcycle resting outside the door. “Hey,” He greeted, with a lazy smile. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Remus nodded before freezing. “Wait no, I have to ice a few more pastries, they’re our best-seller.”

Sirius rolled his eyes laughing. “Oh,” He said, waving it off. “Let them eat cake.”

FIN.

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