#it’s been another long work week and i need my sleep

[sonarspace]

sweet syrup, satoru gojo

synopsis: emotions are all over the place when fwb!gojo stands you up… for another girl? content: fluff (kinda). smut (food play, fem!receiving, orgasm, unprotected sex) wc: 3.1k a/n: another fic within 24hrs to make up for my absence :). (not proofread!). this is a result of listening to sesame syrup by cigarettes after sex on repeat.

𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆.

your phone chimes with a text from satoru “are you free this week? i’m coming to your city”. to which you reply almost instantly. “yeah, i can make some time.”

he texts back: “no need to cancel any plans. i can work around it. just wanna spend some time with you while i’m here.” making your heart flip.

“i have an event to attend tonight, but can i come over sometime between 2 and 3?” he sends another text.

it’s not really like you had much going on in the week so you decided to say yes. to which he sends a winky face and a see you soon.

it’s almost 2am when you’re done getting ready. it has been a while since you’ve seen each other and while satoru has seen you in all your rawness. you figured it wouldn’t hurt to dress up a bit.

you decide to wear an ocean blue lingerie set (his favorite color) and a sheer white dress over it, leaving nothing to imagination. you hope you can catch him off guard with this look.

you look at the clock and it’s already 2:30am. you decide to send him a text to confirm he’s going to come up or not. it’s not like satoru to stand you up especially on a plan he’s made.

“are we still good for tonight?” you text. but no reply comes through. he did say 3am didn’t he, you think to yourself. maybe he’ll be there by then. you sigh and decide to put on a movie.

you give him the benefit of the doubt and wait a bit longer past 3. but you regret that decision as you are watching instagram stories and see a pic of none other than, satoru gojo in all his glory at the party he said he’d be. an angry pout takes over your lips.

what gets you isn’t the fact that he may still be at the party but who he is with. some model’s lips are pressed to his cheeks – hand hovering over her back and his stupid people winning grin plastered on his face.

posted 20 minutes ago. you inhale deeply, trying to keep the tears at bay. you didn’t even know why you were hurt. after all you were just fuck buddies and nothing more. you suppose it was the anger making you cry.

feeling stupid at even trying to dress him for him, streaks of black mascara run down your face. you look at yourself in the mirror and take a deep breath, willing yourself to not cry over some rich fucker.

you wipe your make up and change into a pair of sweatpants and lay back down on the couch. continuing your show trying to distract yourself from the indirect rejection you felt.

but your mind kept going back to him. why would he wanna be with you when he can get all those pretty girls with their perfect bodies. girls who could probably make him feel far better than you do.

you were stupid to think there was something going in between the two of you. as soon as that thought crosses your mind a text chimes. “baby, i’m so sorry. almost there. 5 minutes.”

you scoff at the nickname ‘baby’ huh. “don’t bother. i’m going to sleep.” but you don’t get a reply back. instead what you get is loud repetition of knocks on your apartment door followed by your name.

he waits a beat and then continues knocking. “not leaving until you open the door” he texts you. out of compassion for your neighbors, you open the door. his hand stops mid knock as you gesture him to get in.

"i'm really sorry, i swear i didn't mean to keep you waiting for so long." he starts rambling and you look at him with a plain stare and arms crossed to let him know you're not having his bullshit — you already know he has other priorities.

"i lost track of time and i left the party as soon as i realized. my phone was dead, so i couldn't even text you. i just charged it on the way here. darling, you know i'd never keep you waiting," he moves closer to grab your hands and you let him.

you gulp hard trying to not cry. he reaches to touch your face but you jerk your head away. "don't gojo." the change stings him and you see a look of hurt pass over his face. "please" he drags out the syllable. "okay," you tell him and he almost smiles but you reach out and wipe the lipstick mark off his cheek bringing it up to his eyes "what's this then?"

he narrows his eyes at your thumb in thought, "it's nothing, i swear. she kissed my cheek out of nowhere and they took the photo and i moved away from her just as fast." and you scoff in disbelief, "you just have an answer for everything, don't you gojo."

he groans “just give me a minute,” and pulls out his phone — going through his texts to show the photos of him taken throughout the night. out of habit you take in his appearance. he looks unbelievably sexy in an all black outfit, a sheer black tank and a black overcoat with matching suit pants. you're immediately reminded of your white dress that you had picked earlier and think how perfectly it’d match his outfit. a tear involuntarily escapes your eye.

you wipe it casually before he can notice. he pulls up the photo probably going around on social media at the moment and then the one of him moving away from the lady, "see!" he exclaims. and you sigh, "what do you want me to say gojo?"

"first off, don't call me gojo. secondly, forgive me. it was an honest mistake, you know i'd never do it on purpose. and lastly, i've missed you so so much baby," he drops his forehead to yours and you don't pull away. cause you've missed him just the same.

"go home," you whisper to him. "can't." he replies in the same manner. "it's too late and i didn't get my car. let me stay. let me make it up to you."

you pull away from him and turn towards your bedroom. he lets out a sigh of relief thinking maybe you were giving him a second chance but his shoulders deflate just as quick when you say, "you can take the guest room."

and so he does. he'd take any chance to be close to you since his job makes it hard for him to stay around you for long periods of time. so whenever he comes to this city, he'd prefers to stay with you rather than at a hotel.

and although your relationship and feelings for each other were hidden under the title of "fuck buddies" you both knew it was more than that. both of you went exclusive as soon as you started sleeping with each other. hell you don't think you could find anyone who would fuck you as good as satoru does. and he doesn't even want to try because the way your pussy makes him feel is other worldly.

he gets out of the shower and opts to wear just his boxers and lays comfortably at the thought of making it up to you in the morning. meanwhile you twist and turn trying to find a position to sleep, wondering if you should give in or keep it up so he knows what he did was wrong.

you wake up to the sound of dishes clinking in the kitchen and smile when you remember satoru stayed over last night. albeit not with you but still. your jaw drops slightly when you walk out and see him standing by the stove in nothing but his boxers. the early morning light accentuating the dips and curves of his muscles.

"satoru!" you shriek covering your eyes. "oh, good morning baby. why are you hiding your face?" he asks as if he isn't standing there with his dick in your face. "why are you naked?! put something on!" you exclaim. "ahh, nothing you haven't seen before princess. plus i’m not naked. I’m wearing boxers!” he grins and then adds on “can't exactly wear those clothes when i'm cookin breakfast. it's uncomfortable."

"ugh," you say out loud and march back into your room. you come out with a pair of his sweatpants and throw it to him from across the counter. "wear these!"

"whatever you want baby," he pulls them on and they rest sinfully on his hips – almost teasing you and your cheeks flush. “can you taste this for me?” he asks and you walk around the counter to stand next to him as he pushes a spoonful of syrup towards you.

your eyes flutter close and you hum at the sweet taste. “this is really good,” you smile softly. “thanks. it’s for the french toast. i just put it in the oven to keep it warm. thought you’d be asleep for a little longer.” you beam at the mention of french toast, they were your favorite. “nutella?” you ask and he nods with a mesmerizing smile “just the way you like it, sweets.”

you both gaze at each other with a soft smile. “can i have another spoon?” you meek. you accidentally let a little bit of it dribble down your chin. “oh shit,” you’re about to wipe it off but satoru holds your hand and pulls you in closer.

you feel his tongue leave a wet trail behind as he licks the dripping syrup from your chin to the corner of your mouth. your breath hitches at the sensation. he pulls back and looks at you with smirk.

before he can take too much pride in catching you off guard, you surprise him by clashing your lips to his. he bucks backward and steadies himself with a grip on your waist.

his heart picks up a beat at finally feeling your plush lips on his. tasting the remnants of syrup still sticking to your lips. your kiss felt transcendental to him. like the only way to stay alive was the air that passed through your mouth to his. and he rejoiced at that. he’d be willing to live with you as his source of oxygen.

gaining back some composure he pushes you back and places you on the counter. you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in further. his tongue tries to find its way into your mouth but you don’t budge. instead you giggle into the kiss and he takes it as an indication to kiss your teeth.

his lips move over your jaw, lightly nipping at the skin at the space under your ear. his tongue pokes out and traces your ear lobe once, twice and then he nibs down on the cartilage playfully with a whine of your name. the oven’s beeping brings you both out of the love lust trance you’re in.

he huffs and moves back to turn off the oven while you turn off the stove and grab another spoon of syrup. he turns back to see you leaning back on an arm and kicking your feet – dropping the sticky syrup over your clothed perked nipples. the lack of a bra evident. “oops” you pout, feigning innocence.

his breath seizes at the scene unfolding in front of him. he licks his lips once and then without wasting any more time, his mouth moves over your chest. licking the syrup off your shirt and in the process stimulating your nipples just like you hoped. he pulls off your shirt and throws it behind somewhere behind but before he can go further you stop him “wait!”.

“not in the kitchen,” you speak timidly – a flush creeping up your neck at his lustful stare. pressure builds in your stomach at the way he’s looking at you and you squeeze your thighs for a bit of friction.

“where?” he asks as he picks you up. “anywhere but the kitchen,” you whisper into the skin of his neck as you place a chaste kiss. and then he’s dropping down to his knees with you. laying you on the wooden floor of your living room

he leaves you on the floor for a beat and then comes back with the pot filled with syrup. he peels of your sweatpants along with your soaked panties. “lay still,” he tells you and you straighten out your legs and arms.

using you as his canvas he grabs the pot of syrup and tilts it over your body. creating a pattern of syrup on your naked body. he places the pot back on the counter and admires his work. a thoughtful grin on his face as he makes eye contact with you. “can i take a photo of you?” he asks and you nod without a second thought. he grabs your phone and snaps a pic. this image of yours would be imprinted in his mind forever and more.

“look at how beautiful you look,” and surely you do. sprawled out over the wooden floors of your apartment with a sticky substance covering your body. but that’s not all. the sun shines through the curtains, casting your body in an ethereal light and a ring of light on your head acting as a halo. “just like an angel. my angel. aren’t you baby?” he asks for confirmation.

and maybe it’s too early to say but you do anyway. “only yours, satoru. always yours,” you utter the words he’s been waiting for – well he feels like his whole life but in reality it’s only been three months since you two started this relationship.

the intensity of his gaze has a shiver run over your body and you can feel goosebumps erupt across your skin. he moves on top of you. taking his time with your body. licking over and over until he cleans the syrup. you almost feel like you’re not breathing as his mouth moves over your neck, collarbones, chest, stomach – lapping and littering your skin with love bites.

before moving further down he gives you a deep kiss and you can taste the sweetness of the syrup on his tongue as it tangles with yours. but it’s so incredibly satoru, to be tasting this sweet you can’t help but suck his tongue a little.

finally he spreads your thighs and makes himself at home. licking a quick stripe to test your wetness. there’s so much arousal it has him wondering if you already came. your nubs a shade darker, almost angry at being away from him for so long. he coos at your pussy as it was a separate being. “you missed me, didn’t you?” a peck to your clit. “i missed you too, but your mommy was tryna keep us apart.” you can’t help but laugh at the endearing silliness of him speaking to your pussy. faking a gasp he whispers “i know! it’s okay. going to take such good care of you now,” this time he looks at you.

his tongue moves over your bundle of nerves pressing down on your nub stimulating it just the right amount and plunging a finger into your cunt. his eyes flutter close at your taste. “nothing comes close to your sweetness, darling” he groans. your hands tangle in his head as he continues sucking your clit. you moan his name “ha ha ‘m so close toru.” so he speeds up his pace – licking ferociously, wanting you to reach your high quicker.

you come with a scream of his name. eyes shut and fingers tugging his hair but he has no complaints. he loved the sting when you tugged his hair like this – when you were too fucked out to even realize you were doing it.

he frees his cock and he feels like he can breath a bit better now. his hardened cock turns impossibly harder when you reach a hand down and pump it a few times and he watches in awe. pre cum lathering his length.

“you doing okay?” he asks you from above aligning himself but not pushing in. “yeah,” you hum but you’re lost in thought. about last night. but satoru notices everything. he squeezes your cheeks so you look at him. “what’s wrong?” genuinely concerned.

“i was hurt last night when you didn’t show up on time. and i didn’t understand why i was so hurt because it’s not like we’re dating or anything. but seeing that pic of you, out with those people hurt. cause i was here waiting for you, wanting to surprise you with a dress i bought, that i thought you’d like. but that doesn’t matter. what i’m trying to say is that this is more than just sex for me satoru. i really really like you. i want more of you. more of this. more of us.” you confess all that you’ve held in since this past few weeks of being apart from him.

he doesn’t say anything for a moment, reeling in your confession. you feel like you’ve ruined whatever you had going on. “satoru, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way” in fact it wasn’t. you’d be heartbroken if he didn’t feel the same way. “you don’t have to say anything. i just, i-“ you’re about to continue but he cuts you off with a hard kiss. “i do too. all that you said. i too, want more of you, more of this, more of us. it’s more than just sex for me too, baby. has been for a while. i’m really sorry about last night. wear that dress for me tonight, please.” he pleads. “i’ll cook you a nice dinner and we can have our first date as an official couple. what’d you say?” he smiles softly.

your heart clenches at overwhelming emotions and tears line your eyes as you repeat yes over and over again until he’s kissing you and drinking the love out of you.

he carries you over to your bedroom and lays beside you. he grabs your leg and places it over his hip, lining his cock with your cunt. slowly he pushes into you. you both moan in unison. him at the feeling of your snug walls and you at the feeling of his cock stretching you apart.

your foreheads touch as you maintain eye contact. he thrusts into you ever so lovingly. languid and hard thrusts. as if you both had all the time in the world.

𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ���.

a/n: idk how i feel abt this 💔😭 but i hope you liked it. comments, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated!

© SONARSPACE 2023 | DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[royaltozaki]

you can kiss a hundred boys in bars

synopsis: good luck, babe! - inspired fic (essentially sana left 6 years ago and you still can't stop thinking about her even though you're married to another man)

warnings: cheating, internalised homophobia, not chronological, implied sex, cursing

w/c: 6.4k

a/n: hi 😀 this one may not hit as many of the audiences but it was interesting to write. i zon't think i like it toooo much for how much time i spent on it (edit: the moots have made my day i do like this one a lot actually) but just one of those things i needed to get out before i was able to move on to the next thing :P weeeEEEEHHEEEE i love angst!!!!!!!

ok this one's going to be a bit different guys pls READ THIS or you'll be like what the fuck. purple text is the present. ty enjoy, that was it LOL.

▂▂⌇

you wake up with a migraine. it came not long after you married frank and it’s stayed ever since. you sit up on the bed, careful not to make too much movement or sound to wake your husband next to you. although that was pretty unlikely anyway considering how he slept.

you sigh lightly, holding your head in your hands trying to mitigate the damage.

your head starts drifting off, as it did on most nights these days. it seemed the only thing that ever worked to stop the pounding in your head was thinking about her.

▂▂⌇

funnily enough, sana was actually the reason you and frank had met.

it had happened when the both of you were at a bar after class celebrating the end of exams. sana being sana had made a whole group of friends 10 minutes upon entering the establishment. you were sitting back watching her challenge someone to down the most shots in one minute. you would have stopped her on another day but after the hell week she's been through with her finals, you figured she deserved it. and you'd be there to take her home afterwards anyway.

she's whooping and jumping around, turning back to you with a grin when she wins. the poor loser skulking away back to his friends.

frank goes up to her then. introducing himself with that kind voice of his, just making sure she had someone to go home with and look after her.

and sana adored the attention. she's flirting with that charm of hers that no one could resist. but strangely enough, frank resisted. he was a gentleman, not wanting to pursue anything while sana was intoxicated, instead, he asked who could look after her, and sana points to you.

▂▂⌇

you're not getting back to sleep. instead you silently step out of bed, grabbing your phone and the hidden pack of cigarettes you kept in the second drawer of your bedside cupboard.

you step outside onto the balcony, breathing in the cool night air, shivering a little as you wrap the blanket you left on the balcony chair around you.

you click the lighter on, the small flame illuminating the darkness of the night, the only other light source aside from the moon. you're thinking if sana's somewhere she can see the moon right now while you put the lighter to the end of your cigarette. is it night for her? was she asleep? did she ever think about you?

you bring the stick to your mouth, inhaling, feeling the roughness of the nicotine hit your lungs, and exhaling softly, watching the wisps of smoke dissolve into the night sky.

sana hated when you smoked. frank didn't like it too much either, but he was never able to stop you.

▂▂⌇

"do you have to do that here?" sana's frowning when you release a puff of smoke into the air.

"sorry. stressed." you mumble in response, cig still stuck between your lips.

"you know i can help with that. just not when you taste like an ashtray." sana's still staring at the cancer stick you're sucking on with contempt, she never hated anything but if you had to place your money on something it'd be your bad habit.

you're smiling sheepishly, taking the cigarette out of your mouth and smooshing the end until it's not burning anymore.

the frown on her face is gone immediately, she's charmed you listen to her so easily. and she sticks to her word, stepping closer and leaning in.

your lips meet lazily, she's got a hand on your cheek, the other at your waist. you're wrapping your arms around her hips, holding her against you as your lips slot against each other.

sana was an attractive woman. there was no doubt about that. the two of you had met during high school. she had caught you sneaking off for a smoke during P.E. and had somehow convinced you to go and get your nails done with her instead. ever since then you two had been inseperable.

it was after you broke up with your first boyfriend in college that you started sleeping together. you remember he had decided to call it off because he was going all mormon and was ashamed of having had sex already, calling you a 'sex-addicted whore who was sent by the devil to tempt him into the flames of hell'. sana despised that he made you feel unwanted, and even more that he blamed you for the break up. she needed you to know just how valued you were, just how wanted you were, and in her drunk dazed mind that meant worshipping you until you came crying under her. and in your drunk dazed, heartbroken, self-pitying mind, you let her.

when it happened again, and again, and again, and then not under any alcoholic influence, the both of you decided to continue seeking each other out for sexual relief whenever you were stressed, or in any sort of mood that called for sex. you stopped every time one of you started a new relationship, but you always found your way back into each other's arms eventually.

▂▂⌇

you curse lightly when you reach the end of your cigarette.

picking out another one, you’re repeating your actions, lighting it up, bringing it between your lips, inhaling, feeling it fill your lungs, and then pushing it back out.

there hasn’t been a single day that’s gone by where you hadn’t thought about sana. frank didn’t get it at first. he asked you why you couldn’t just call her, you two were the best of friends, surely it wouldn’t be that difficult to reconnect?

he didn’t know you slept with sana on the night of you and frank’s wedding. doesn’t know the countless times you’ve slept with her before that. doesn’t know sana woke up earlier than you the next day, disappearing into the early morning, no note, no text, nothing. you were too ashamed to try and contact her for weeks after that, it wasn’t until you came back from your honeymoon that you realised you were knocking on an empty door when you tried to find her at her apartment. it was cleaned out, no furniture, no remnants of her, nothing to prove she even existed. you had called her over and over, tears of desperation spilling over, holding back choked sobs that only grew stronger with each voicemail message.

it wasn't until sana's old landlord holding a 'for lease' sign in his hand comes and kicks you out that you finally realise you'd lost her.

after that, your relationship with frank started to deteriorate. what did you expect though? was it sana's fault? if sana hadn't left would you have lived happily ever after, the three of you together?

it took a long time to realise the answer to that was no. you spent years blaming sana for leaving, and when you finally came to the terms that you were the one who drove her away, it was too much to bear.

▂▂⌇

"y/n!"

you smile at the sound of sana calling you in the corridor, turning to meet her hug as she crashes into you.

she starts talking your ear off and you nod along enthusiastically, but suddenly she stops, looks down to your hand, intertwined with someone else's.

"oh. who's this y/n?"

you look over at your newest boyfriend in surprise, almost forgetting he was holding your hand and standing next to you. you tended to forget a lot of things when sana was around.

"oh this is danny. we met at that bar i told you about last week remember?"

"hmm..." she's looking up at him in scrutiny, eyes squinted and eyebrows furrowed. you can feel danny's palms start to sweat under her gaze.

"one week huh? not bad, let's see how long you last, if you go longer than a month then i'll introduce myself to you." sana says then.

"sana!" you're hitting her lightly, flabbergasted at her insinuation.

"what? your last one was like 3 days. you just keep breaking these guys' hearts y/n." she places a hand over her heart dramatically.

danny's tightening his grip around your hand, speaking up, "excuse me, i don’t appreciate you wishing doom on our relationship even before its started. and i wouldn’t want to be introduced to a slut who’s never had a real relationship before anyway.”

sana’s speechless for a second but her face morphs into a scowl quickly after, “okay danny,” spitting out his name, “first rule of being a decent boyfriend? don’t talk shit about your girlfriend’s best friends. let’s see you last another hour after that comment.” she turns to you, raising an eyebrow, “you gonna let him off with that y/n?”

you’re stuck, and danny’s looking at you expectantly.

“sana… that comment was a little uncalled for y’know… you did kinda start this…”

danny’s smirking, looking smugly back towards sana.

“what?! are you serious right now y/n? y’know what? i don’t care. your life and whatever. see you later.” she’s stomping off, your heart sinking as you watch her.

“c’mon babe, forget her. let’s go get sushi.” danny doesn’t wait for a response before he’s pulling you in the other direction.

▂▂⌇

when you wake up again the next day, frank’s gone.

you stumble to your feet, clumsily making your way to the bathroom.

it’s almost late afternoon already. you’re lucky you didn’t have work today.

sana always used to scold you if you woke up past noon. she said you'd waste the whole day sleeping when you could have been spending it with her.

these days the second option wasn't exactly viable.

you cringe a little when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. unkempt hair, dark circles under your eyes, visible signs of ageing. you'd bet sana still looked as radiant as she was all those years ago.

your phone starts buzzing when you turn on your electric toothbrush. it couldn't be anyone else other than frank. you didn't really talk to anyone else anyway. after sana left, you became a social recluse, and a lot of your friends were technically sana's friends so without that mutual connection anymore, you drifted from them very quickly.

“hello?”

“hey y/n, is my white button-up back from the dry cleaners yet? i need it tonight for this work event.”

“… no you didn’t tell me to pick anything up.”

“what? i left a note for you on the fridge did you not see it?”

“i just woke up frank.”

“it’s 2pm.”

“yeah.”

you can hear him sigh over the phone, “alright it’s fine i’ll pick it up after work.” he hangs up abruptly after he says that.

no goodbye, no i love you, he doesn’t call you by any pet names anymore either, just y/n. well it’s not like you did any of those things for him so you suppose it’s fair. he did do a lot of those things when you were dating and early in your marriage but eventually, when you stopped responding and got more and more tired of being with him, he stopped trying as well. you can’t even remember the last time you were intimate together.

frank had suggested the both of you try out marriage counselling but you were strongly against the idea. you didn’t feel particularly excited about disclosing everything that went on with sana with frank let alone with a complete stranger. you remember that week you fought about it and you ran away and didn’t come back until a month later. frank only tried to call you once during that time.

▂▂⌇

you were standing in front of an apartment door in japan.

you weren’t really thinking when you stood at the front desk of the airport, demanding a ticket for the next flight to osaka with only a small backpack and some essentials you were able to grab after your fight with frank.

it wasn’t until you were physically in the plane that you realised you didn’t actually know anyone but sana there. and you had made that unconscious decision because being with frank was simply too… nothing, and being with sana was… everything. it had been over 6 years since you had seen her last, when she left you that quiet night in may.

though it seems fate was on your side this time. sana’s cousin just happened to be working at the airport the night you arrived, when she recognised you, she was waving excitedly, ushering you over.

“y/n right? oh my goodness i haven’t seen you in so long! not since that time sana brought you here 7 years ago right?” her accent is a little thick but you’re grateful she can speak korean regardless, you could only understand very basic japanese picked up from sana.

you’re nervously rubbing the back of your neck, “ahaha yeah… do you actually happen to have sana’s address?”

she frowns a little, “she didn’t give it to you when she found out you were coming?”

it seems like sana hasn’t told many people about your relationship with her either.

“u-um ahaha no she must have forgotten. you know how she gets… too excited she forgets the important little details.”

the cousin laughs a little in response, agreeing and quickly typing in sana’s address on your phone. internally you’re thanking all the gods and deities you know of for this stroke of luck or you’d really be stranded in osaka with no knowledge of the language and nowhere to stay.

“i have to get back to work but say hi to sana for me! we haven’t seen her much since she came back a few years ago, she’s been really busy with work i think.”

you nod, heart pounding at the tidbits of information you’re getting about sana. anything to fill in the 6 year gap you’ve been apart.

you wave goodbye, thanking her again and then you’re hailing down a taxi and showing the driver the destination on your phone.

so now you’re standing in front of her apartment door, hands sweaty and nervous, just praying she wouldn’t kick you out or worse.

you’ve been standing here stupidly, deliberating when, how, if you should even knock. when there’s a slight commotion to your left, the sound of a bag of groceries dropping and a light gasp.

“y/n?”

it’s very cinematic when you turn, sana coming into view for the first time in so long is like finding water in a desert. you’re drinking her in hungrily, her darker hair, smile lines, perfect nose, she looks just as beautiful as you remember.

“sana…” you’re voice is hoarse with emotion.

she’s taking slow steps towards you after picking up her groceries. one… two…

“what are you doing here?”

“i-i- u-um i-“

“how did you get my address?”

“u-um i saw y-your cousin at the airport and she recognised me and i- i may have asked her for your address... i'm sorry! i would have called or like let you know but... y'know... i-i couldn't really do that..."

she considers you for a little bit, looking you up and down, her face stoic.

"...did you come here for something then?"

"i- um- well not really it was k-kinda an impulse decision. u-um frank and i fought and i just- i don't know i went to the airport and i found myself here i guess..."

you notice how her hand tightens at the mention of frank's name, the slight sound of the crinkling of her grocery bag.

"and what did you want me to do about that?" she's pushing past you now, taking out her keys and starting to unlock her door. you begin to panic, scrambling for words.

"i- sana please! i- i'm sorry! i'm sorry okay?"

the jingling of her keys stops, but she doesn't look back at you.

"what are you sorry for? i'm the one who left remember?" her voice is bitter and a little shaky, you realise she's not facing you because she's trying not to cry. you ache to hold her.

"i… i’m the reason you left though. right? it took me a long time to realise but i’m sorry i wasn’t able to be true to myself and i’m sorry you were a casualty to that. i missed you sana…." your voice is quiet, you feel your own tears welling up in your eyes.

“… what weren’t you true to yourself about?”

you take a big inhale, breath shaky when you let it back out. “that i love you.” your voice is tiny, you just confessed your love for the woman you’ve spent most of your life with, the woman that’s occupied your mind every second of every minute since she’s entered your life. the woman you were too scared to admit you loved, who waited for you to do exactly that only for you to enter a loveless marriage with someone else. you can only imagine the pain you’ve put her through. it would be nothing compared to the last 6 years without her. and the last 6 years without sana were undoubtedly the worst of your life.

sana’s sniffling now, unable to hold back her cries.

you inch forward and tentatively place a hand on her shoulder. when she doesn’t move it, you shift closer again to wrap your arms around her loosely.

suddenly sana’s turning and burrowing her face in your neck, you feel her wet tears stain your skin, but also your own start to run down your face. you're surrounded with sana sana sana, her smell, her sounds, the feel of her against you when you tighten your arms around her. you missed this so fucking much. you missed her. and for the first time in 6 years, you finally felt like you were home again.

▂▂⌇

after you've finished your morning routine, you lazily trudge into the kitchen, discarding the small note frank had told you about, and pouring yourself a bowl of cereal.

you sigh into the empty house. frank wanted kids of course, that's why you bought such a large house in the first place. he had dreamt of the whole white-picket fence family and you were excited to share that with him and sana. she had helped you design the place, decorate it when you first moved in, she was meant to move across the street and you were going to grow old together and watch as your kids played around and became the best of friends, just like the two of you were.

now though? you hated this house. it just felt so much more empty. you and frank had tried for kids, although that only really drove you further apart. sex just became more of a chore than something you enjoyed, and when people know you're trying to get pregnant? suddenly everyone has their 2 cents on what you should eat, what types of exercise you should do, the latest superfood that was meant to make you more fertile. everyone seemed to have more control over your own relationship, over your own body than you did.

eventually, the small amounts of love you and frank had for each other, fizzled out. and you decided you didn't want to raise a child in a loveless marriage, that wouldn't be fair to them. frank, even with his endless optimism and kind soul, agreed.

▂▂⌇

that night in japan, for the first time in six years since you saw sana, you were able to kiss her again, to feel her bare skin against yours, to taste her as she writhed and cried out your name above you.

you woke up before her the next day, sun sluggishly making its way past the horizon. you watched as her breaths came in and out, soft, her expression at peace, not clouded with anger or sadness at you. you traced the lines of her face, recollecting every single hair, every mole, every perfection and imperfection on her, so she'd always be with you in your memory.

she stirred after a while, blinking softly and you wait for her to come to, fingers tracing soft lines over her side.

you feel her freeze under you, breathing picking up, just barely noticeable but you were sharing the same airspace. her eyes meet yours for the first time that morning and you're committing the brown irises to memory now as well.

"you didn't leave." her voice is laced with morning fatigue.

you only hum in response, continuing to trace random shapes into her skin.

"why?"

you take a moment to think about your answer. years ago, you would've been terrified with the idea that someone would've found out about the two of you. that someone would know your dirty little secret. and that secret was that you were in love with your best friend. it was different for sana. sana was flamboyant, and proud, and happy. it wouldn't matter who sana liked because that didn't take away from her personality. she was still valuable as a person. you weren't like that though. you were always just sana's best friend or danny's girlfriend or frank's girlfriend or whoever else you dated at the time. the moment you deviated from that, a new label would be stuck on you, and people would pity sana, talk about how she could do so much better, how you were a witch who lured sana in. so you were selfish. you took from sana, and you never gave back. because sana was perfect in your mind, and she didn't need anything else.

"i'm sorry. there's a lot to be sorry for and a lot i need to make up to you. but at the core of it all, i love you sana. these six years without you have been hell. and i'm sorry it took that long for me to realise this, but i love you, not frank, not anyone else, just you."

you feel your eyes begin to tear up, heavy with emotions, sana's mirroring you, her bottom lip slightly quivering.

"what happened with frank?" her voice is a little shaky.

"we fought. i didn't want to deal with him anymore, my feet took me to the airport, and i ended up here."

sana sighs then, turning away from you and lying on her back. "so you're still together?"

"well... i- no but-"

"how is this time any different then y/n?"

"i- i- it's over, me and him. seeing you again has affirmed that for me. there hasn't been love between frank and i for a long time. i never loved him the way i love you. i'm ending things as soon as i get back. i promise sana. please- please believe me." you're scrambling a little, you couldn't afford to lose sana again. not after you had just gotten her back.

you can see tears running down the side of her face. you hate yourself for making her cry. that seems to be all you ever made her do.

"okay."

"okay?"

she turns to you again, wiping at her eyes, "okay. i really shouldn't but i love you too much and i've missed you too much to say no."

"really?" your perking up, disbelief clear.

"you keep asking me that and i'll change my mind." she teases, smiling for the first time.

you're overjoyed. rolling onto her and sweeping her up in a kiss, hoping your actions convey your feelings for her better than your words do. she's laughing into you and god have you missed that sound. you attack her sides immediately, almost desperate to hear it again, to make her feel something other than the sadness you've caused her. you make a promise to yourself in that moment, that you'd never, never make sana cry again.

it took you only a month to break that promise.

▂▂⌇

"hi, frank's wife right?"

you resist the very strong urge to roll your eyes, instead nodding politely and listening as the woman who approached you launches into a conversation about her husband and how he and frank got along at work and really you couldn't care less.

you were at the work event frank had mentioned in the morning. he did end up picking up his own dry cleaning and you saw him briefly at the event when you first showed up, only saying a quick hello and kissing your cheek before he was off again mingling and entertaining guests.

you had intended on just sticking to the bar and making use of the free-flow alcohol but now this woman was talking to you about her kids, and whatever else and you really just want to throw your drink in her face and yell at her about how to read a room.

you spot frank in the corner of your eye, surrounded by a group of women. you knew he had slept with other people ever since you stopped accepting his advances and affection. you're honestly surprised he hasn't asked for a divorce yet.

but frank was kinder than you. you were still his friend before you were his wife. he still cared about you and didn't want you to be left alone. you couldn't seem to convince him you were fine alone. you learnt to be fine when sana left. although lately, even he seemed to see you less as a friend and more and more, just as his wife.

▂▂⌇

"i still can't believe that time you thought danny was a good choice for you. and you defended him too!" sana was laughing, slapping your arm playfully.

you whine in response, "i told you i was sorry for that alright!!"

she's still laughing when frank comes back to the two of you, looking at you inquisitively and gesturing vaguely towards sana. you shrug, helping him set the food he had ordered for the three of you on the table.

"what's funny sana?" he asks, sliding into the booth with you and picking up a burger.

sana's waving a chip around now, pointing at you, "just talking about y/n's shitty taste in men."

frank fakes shock, looking at you with an exaggerated look of hurt, "me?"

you laugh, hitting him lightly, "not you dummy."

"yeah you're one of the good ones franky. probably the only good one out there."

"aww thanks sana."

sana grins, digging into her food.

you smile at the two of them. your two favourite people in the world. when you first met frank, you were skeptical of him. you were sure he was only trying to be friends with you to get with sana. so imagine your surprise when he had actually been plotting with sana behind your back to ask you out. you had said yes of course, he was a sweet guy, attractive too, and most importantly, sana liked him.

you ended up hitting it off, and the three of you were almost inseparable after that.

it wasn't until about 7 months into your relationship that sana started distancing herself. she would say she was busy, turn down more offers to go out, start hanging around a new group of people.

you heard from frank later that they had some sort of disagreement, which was why sana had started avoiding you. you were hurt by this though, because sana was still your friend. she was yours before you were frank's, and even when you were frank's you were still hers. didn't she know that? she had to.

you intended for her to know that when you cornered her, a late afternoon on a friday when the three of you used to go out for ice-cream as a reward for the week's end, but she had been staying behind to study or always had something else on instead.

"why are you avoiding me?"

sana's eyes are everywhere, her movements skittish as she tries to look for an escape before giving up and huffing. "i don't know what you're talking about."

"yes you do."

"no i don't."

"stop this sana. frank told me the two of you fought. if you don't want to be around him fine. that's your choice. but that doesn't mean you get to avoid me too."

she looks at you then, eyes fiery, "is that what he told you?"

you nod, "i don't understand sana. i don't care that you fought. i can seperate us and my relationship with frank. you're still my best friend."

"we fought because he told me he felt like i was stealing you from him."

"what?"

"yeah. he said he never got to spend any time with you. i was always there. he felt like he was the one who was third-wheeling our relationship."

the words third-wheel and our relationship swim around in your mind, "w-what? that's impossible!"

"is it really though y/n?" sana's voice is soft now.

"what do you mean?"

"i mean, is it really impossible for you to see us that way? frank obviously did, and he felt threatened by that."

"w-what- sana what are you talking about?"

she sighs a little in frustration, and then suddenly she's yanking you forward by the collar and planting her lips against yours. you react automatically, kissing her back, hands immediately going to her waist as you revel in the feeling of her soft lips against yours. it was always so different kissing sana compared to all the other guys you've been with. you chalked it up to the fact that sana took care of her skin, her lips, the way she smelled, all of that made kissing her that much sweeter.

but then you remember frank and you're pulling away, breaths heavier than they were mere seconds ago. "what the fuck sana?!" you're whipping your head around, looking to see if anyone had seen the two of you. it seemed to be clear.

sana's chuckling lowly, wiping at her lips, face downcast.

"what were you thinking?! i'm with frank! you set me up with frank!"

her eyes meet yours again, and you're taken back by the glassy look on her face. she's whispering, "i know. i know and i hate myself for it. i thought- i thought if- i thought i could get over this if i saw you happy with someone else. and then you were! and i just felt worse y/n. and then frank could tell and that was the last straw i guess. i needed to be away, away from you so i could get make these stupid feelings go away. i'm sorry y/n i'm so so sorry."

you're dumbfounded, staring at her blankly when she starts sobbing, hands coming to wipe at tears falling faster than she could catch them.

you don't understand what this means, what you felt, all you knew in that moment was sana was crying. the person you cared about most in the world was crying and you were the reason for it. so you do the one thing to make her stop. you tilt her chin up, heart breaking at the sniffles and the watery eyes, and you press your lips against hers again.

you end up where you've ended up so many times. legs entangled, sweaty bodies on sheets, heavy breathing, and minds lost.

▂▂⌇

you couldn't stand being inside anymore. it was suffocating.

you breathe out smoke as you exhale, the cigarette end still burning.

you watch as someone makes their way outside, shuffling around a little in their pockets and cursing when they realise they don't have a lighter.

the person looks towards you and you hold out yours. you help them light the end of their cigarette and nod when they mutter their thanks, inhaling the smoke into their lungs and standing awkwardly to the side.

it's a few minutes here in the cold, and you're almost finished your cigarette, about to throw it away when the stranger speaks up.

"do i know you from somewhere?"

you pause, looking back, you don't think you recognise this person. "you must have me confused for someone else, i'm sorry."

"wait... no you're sana's best friend right!?"

you drop the cigarette in your hand in shock. it had been a long time since someone had said that name out loud. she only ever lived in your head, it was hard to believe she was someone to other people too.

"right yes of course i remember now! i'm momo i was sana's roommate in college. although you probably don't remember i think we only really met like once. sana was always with you around campus and posted you a lot though so i remember you."

you vaguely recall the woman as she chatters away excitedly.

"right... momo... it's nice to meet you. i'm y/n."

momo grins, "have you spoken to sana lately? i don't think i saw you at the wedding, although i may have just been drunk." she chuckles a little at herself, not realising the way your face drops.

"wedding?"

momo looks at you a little in confusion, "yeah. last month? sana got married in sapporo."

your head is spinning with the new information. sana was married?

“woah you feeling okay?” momo’s reaching out for your shoulder, steadying you. you didn’t even realise you had lost your balance.

“i-i- yeah sorry.”

“you sure? are you here with anyone? anyone i can call?”

“no. it’s okay, thank you though.”

“yeah no problem.”

she’s shuffling back again, sucking on her cigarette.

“sana and i haven’t spoken in years. i was just a little surprised is all.” you speak up when you feel a little steadier on your feet.

“oh shit! i’m so sorry y/n i had no idea!”

“it’s okay, it seems no one really does.” you laugh a little bitterly.

momo doesn’t know how to respond to this, flicking her eyes between you and the door.

“it’s fine though. i’m happy for her.” the words taste vile on your tongue. is this what sana felt when she watched you walk down the aisle on your wedding day?

momo softens a little, “she is happy.” she offers you a kind smile, tapping out her cigarette and mumbling a quick thanks before heading back inside.

once you're sure she's gone you let yourself break down. sobs wrack your body as you hold your hands over your mouth trying to quiet them. you can barely see through the tears streaming out of your eyes. this was it. you'd finally lost her. you couldn't cling to the delusion that somewhere out there, some of her still belonged to you, some of her happiness, her memories, her love. you'd lost all of that now.

▂▂⌇

"what was that y/n?"

"what?"

"don't fuck with me right now. that was frank wasn't it? on the phone just then?"

you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, "what do you want me to say sana?"

"that you're keeping your promise. that you're going to return to him, break up with him, and then you're going to come back here to me. and then we can finally start our lives together."

"it's not that easy sana."

she explodes, "what do you mean?! it is that easy y/n! you told me when you came here that you and frank were over. have been for years. and now you can't tell me that same thing?"

"i don't- no sana-"

"what? what y/n? what’s your excuse now? do you have to make sure your job is secure? after you've spent a whole fucking month here you expect me to think you still care about that? do you have a child with him? is that it? is he sick? what other possible excuse is there for 'it's not that easy sana'?!"

"you don't get it! you can't say that to me sana!"

"what?! what don't i get?! tell me y/n, let's sort this shit out right fucking now. tell me why you can't be with me."

"it's not- that's just the way i am sana! i can't-"

"you told me you loved me. was that a lie then?" her eyes are brimming with tears, anger evident and your heart breaks again. you promised, you promised her and you promised yourself that this wouldn't happen again.

you're quick to step in again, trying to stop her from crying the one way you know how, brushing her cheeks with your thumbs and kissing her.

she doesn't let you get away with it this time though. she rips away from you, placing a hand on your chest and pushing you back lightly, keeping you literally at arm's length.

"don't do that." she's chuckling, her laughs mixed in with quiet sobs, "don't think you can just kiss away your problems. that's not how real life works y/n."

"please sana, please just-"

"what? you want me to be okay being your secret again? you want to be able to go around in public with frank only to come home to me? you can't have both y/n! i'm not going to do that again for you!"

you’re both crying now, standing across from each other in sana’s apartment, a place that’s felt more like home to you in a month than your place with frank has felt for you in six years.

your voice comes out in a hoarse whisper when you speak up, “i can’t- i can’t feel like this sana.”

sana’s wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. then she’s turning on her heel and heading into the bedroom.

you follow her, you’d follow her anywhere, but your heart sinks when you realise she’s going around the room picking up your belongings and shoving them into your bag.

“w-wait s-sana, what- what are you doing? stop please-“

you’re almost begging, scrambling after her trying to pull her back but she’s stubborn, she’s able to fill the bag within a minute and then she’s pushing it into you, and out the door.

“please! sana please i can’t lose you again don’t do this please- you’re my best friend sana.”

she’s managed to successfully push you out the front door now, still crying. “but you’re not mine y/n. you were never my best friend. you were always the love of my life. and you can’t be that for me anymore. so leave. please. don’t try and find me again.”

“n-no sana please d-don’t-“

“you’d have to stop the world just to stop what you feel for me y/n. but you don’t realise that. and i’m sick of loving someone who can’t give me all of that love back.”

and then she’s slamming her door shut in your face, the both of you sobbing on opposite sides of the door, hearts shattered a second time, and later, when it happens a third time, it’s only the sound of yours breaking.

[luveline]

there’s this scene in the office where pam falls asleep on jim during a conference at work, he doesn’t move her at all and even stays until after the meeting is over just to let her sleep!!! do u think u could write something similar for our annoyingly sweet coworker! james?? love u

love u <3 —James may not like you, but he’s a good pillow. fem, 1k

“Today we’re gonna talk about workplace satisfaction.” 

James crosses his arms over his chest. The yawn he suppresses threatens to make his jaw crack, his eyes heavy not a minute into the presentation. 

“I know all about that,” Sirius says under his breath. 

Remus needles him in the arm with his elbow. It might’ve been the best dumb luck in the world to get to work with his best friends, but not even their joking can make this meeting less mind-numbing. He covers his mouth with his hand and settles in. 

“We sent around a survey this last week and we’ve had everyone’s responses. The results are anonymous, but we do want to touch on where we, as a company, are going wrong. Our first category was day to day working.” 

You yawn. James turns his head to watch you, and with the lights dimmed, he’s not sure you notice. You cover your mouth with both hands, your eyes failing to reopen for a few long, admittedly humorous seconds. He likes how your lashes look stuck together, and the way you rub your nose afterward. It’s cute. 

What’s not cute is your shaking knees. You press them together, but you’re sitting awkwardly, and they tremble at the strange position. James wonders what it is you’re upto that’s making you so tired lately. You seem down; he stapled his fingertip earlier in a crazy mishap of which he was at no fault and you didn’t even laugh. You took his hand and pulled out the staple. 

You’ve been acting super weird. 

“So about half of you expressed that you feel like you aren’t allowed the breaks that you need. While it’s encouraged you all take a ten minute break from your screens every other hour, you feel penalised when you do, and we want to change that. Do any of you guys have anything to say? This is the time to speak your thoughts.” 

Remus raises his hand. James loves him more than anyone in the world. “Whenever I try to take a break around lunchtime, you ask me if I can wait until lunch. I don’t think needing breaks from the screen should wait, or detract from my legal break time.” 

“What we’re trying to do is encourage you guys to make the most of your working time without hurting yourselves.” 

A great non answer. You make a soft sound and James turns with a smile, expecting to find you smothering a laugh, and instead seeing a great eyeful of your neck. Your head has fallen back, your back slouching under the weight of yourself as your leg begins to drift toward his. 

Poor girl, he thinks. 

“What about the kitchen tap?” someone asks. 

Your boss sighs. “What about it?” 

James leans down to be your height. He can imagine the neck ache, the stiffness, and so when he brings his arm up to touch the shoulder closest to his, it’s with sympathy, if not fondness. 

You make another soft sound like a snuffle and rest your face on his shoulder.

James looks away. Looks back, tracing the soft roundness of your forehead, your nose, your cheeks and your lips, pouting ever so slightly in your dozing. He’s thought often that you were awarded a face too sweet for who you are. What evil demon are you, to treat him like he’s stupid and to smile at him in your way? Sometimes he gets so mad at you for it that he thinks about grabbing you, and yanking your face to his, and then he feels so guilty for wanting to grab you at all that he leaves your mug where it is in the cupboard. It’s not nice to want to kiss you with any sort of force. 

It’s not nice wanting to kiss you at all, because it isn’t a joke, he really doesn’t like you sometimes. 

But what’s not to like about you now? 

Lately he feels this weird bridge forming between you, like you could be civil, or better. You rub your nose into his shoulder and he holds his breath, worried his moving chest will jolt you. Something must be really getting to you if you’re sleeping at work. He should ask if you’re alright, when you’re awake. 

He doesn’t think he can. 

“Alright, guys. Let’s talk about customer service.” 

You’re demure. James thinks it and bites his own tongue, hard and accidental, flinching at the sudden pain. You mumble against him and he quickly stills, his heart pounding. Fuck, he hates this. Why does he feel like this? He didn’t mean to jostle you. 

Your hand curls around his arm like you’re telling him to stay still. 

He should take a photo of you for blackmail purposes. If not blackmail, mild humiliation. He can email it to everyone before you wake up, zoom in on your nose pressed rough to his arms, your deep exhales warm on his shirt. 

James rubs your elbow for reasons he can’t understand.

The meeting is torturously long, inanely boring. You rouse when your coworkers clap politely at the end of the presentation, James’ hand now returned to his leg. He looks resolutely at the front of the room, your gaze a heat on his cheek, before you look down and rub your eyes. 

“Sorry, James,” you murmur. 

“It’s okay. Don’t mention it.” 

That’s what’s best, right? You have these insane moments of togetherness and never, ever talk about them. 

“Did I miss much?” you ask. 

Pillow and minute keeper? James doesn’t think so. “Should’ve paid attention.” 

“Did he talk about the tap in the kitchen?” 

“If you were meant to know, you’d know, hm?” You yawn and blink to yourself all soft with sleep, and James debates giving in for longer than he’d care to admit. “He did talk about the tap,” he says. 

“Is he fixing it?” you ask. 

“Couldn’t hear him over your snoring, sorry.”

[literary-motif]

Stress Relief

Kayson x Reader

Warnings: smoking

Exams leave you stressed and exhausted. Kayson offers comfort.

You sighed tiredly, leaning against the brick wall and closing your eyes for a moment. Exam week had come sooner than you expected, leaving little time to do anything but study as you desperately tried to meet the overachieving standards you had set yourself. 

You could practically feel your parents breathing down your neck already, eyeing you wearily and asking you in that slightly deprecating tone dripped in false naivety why you didn’t do better. 

They had always taught you to aim for the best, fight for it, work for it — but in the end, your lofty expectations and the pressure you constantly put on yourself to excel at everything left you exhausted and burnt out. 

The stress had built steadily over the past few weeks while you continuously pushed yourself well past your limits to finish everything on time. The essay was done. You had written the notes. You had studied the entire subject by heart. You had solved the problems, reread the books, and done all the mock exams until your vision was blurry from lack of sleep and you could no longer formulate a coherent thought.

There was nothing left to do. This had been your last exam, and you should feel relieved now that it was all over, but somehow the weight did not lift from your shoulders. You felt more stressed out than you ever had before. 

It made no sense. 

You rummaged through your pocket, fishing out the pack of cigarettes you had hidden from Kayson. 

He had quit smoking after you got together, finding more solace in your gentle embrace than in the little pack you held in your hands. When you had seen it half-empty, you had decided to take it, lest he was tempted to indulge when you were not there to give him comfort instead.

You hesitated only a moment before taking out a cigarette and lighting it, silently thanking chance that Kayson had left his lighter in the pack. You took a long drag, exhaling the smoke again with a grimace. It tasted different than what you remembered. You had never smoked the same brand as Kayson before. 

Not that you were in the habit anyway, but sometimes you needed something to take the edge off. You had been burning for a cigarette since the stress began stealing your sleep. 

“Indulging in my vice?” a voice said from behind you, making you cough out a mouthful of smoke. You turned to see Kayson leaning against the wall, looking at you with an eyebrow raised. “What’s the matter, perfect? Startled at getting caught?” 

You huffed, leaning your head back and looking up at the overcast sky. “Think it will rain?” you asked instead, recalling how you left your umbrella on the kitchen table this morning.

Kayson frowned at your dismissal, worried about the emptiness he heard in your voice. He knew you tended to overwork yourself, drawing on depleted resources to finish everything, perfect it, and submit it well before the deadline. You worked yourself to exhaustion until there was nothing left and you crashed. 

It was easy to tell when the stress got to you, but despite his best efforts to coax you to take breaks and leave your work to unwind for half a day sometimes, he knew you could not relax until you completed your work. 

His heart ached seeing the dark circles under your eyes, evidence of the pressure grinding you to the ground. Still, he put on a smile to cheer you up with the radiant charm you loved so much. “I was wondering where that pack went,” he chuckled, nudging your shoulder, “when did you pick up smoking?”

“I didn’t,” you replied, taking another drag. 

“What do you call this, then?”

“Indulging in your vice. You said so yourself. Besides,” you said, exhaling another lungful of smoke, “I think there’s something poetic about the taste of ash in my mouth.”

“Shut up,” Kayson said, both amused and concerned. He plucked the cigarette from your fingers, putting it out on the sidewalk. “That’s enough indulgence for today. Why don’t you come over? I wanted to pick you up after the exam and treat you to lunch. I spent the whole morning in the kitchen just for you.”

You couldn’t help the genuine smile breaking out across your face. “You didn’t have to,” you said, intertwining your fingers and allowing Kayson to walk you home. “I would have been fine with a snack.”

“Sure you would have,” he said, making a detour to the trashcan and throwing away the stump, “but I wanted to do something nice for you.” 

You squeezed his hand, trying to convey your gratitude with the simple gesture alone. “You don’t need to do anything for me. Having you is more than enough.”

“Aw,” Kayson cooed, but you could see the faint blush on his face regardless. “How romantic of you. Watch out, or you’ll make me swoon.” 

You laughed at his teasing, feeling it lift the heaviness from your shoulders. “Thanks, Kay,” you said, leaning into his side as you continued walking, your steps slightly hurried to escape the threatening downpour. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Kayson chuckled fondly, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you close. “I’ll always be there for you to lean on, perfect. Next time, come to me. You know I’m better at relieving your stress than those damn cigarettes.”

[anamoon63]

Hi guys, I am writing this in case anyone wonders why I have been kind of MIA lately. No, I haven't forgotten you, but I have had a difficult week, more than a difficult week, I have been through a real ordeal. Where or how it started it's a long story which I don't have the time or the energy to tell, so I'll just share a brief chronology of what happened during this past week.

Friday May 3 - I turned in my finished work and set out to do my sims posts, play and rest for the weekend since more work would be coming my way on Monday.

Saturday May 4 - My husband came down with the flu, I spent most of the day with him in the emergency room.

Sunday May 5 - I spent it taking care of my husband, who fortunately no longer had a fever. I barely slept two hours at night giving care and medication.

Monday 6 May - My birthday, we couldn't go out for dinner as usual, so we celebrated at home.

Tuesday, May 7 - My son comes down with the flu, too, another afternoon in the ER and sleepless night caring for him and bringing down his fever.

Wednesday, May 8 - My son starts to feel better, and begins to recover very quickly. I start working on the following translations, at the same time I take care of both my husband and my sick son, do food, laundry, order home medicines, and all kinds of small chores, including disinfecting things. It's like going back to 2020.

Thursday, May 9 - My husband no longer has a fever but does have a cough that won't go away and minor problems with his asthma.

Friday, May 10 - Mother's Day, my son was feeling fine, my husband still had a cough, and had a doctor's appointment at noon, when he returned, we celebrated at home just like on my birthday, I spent the rest of the day working, and juggling a thousand other things. In the evening my daughter started to feel sick, but still no fever.

Saturday, May 11 (yesterday) - My daughter woke up with a fever, another visit to the ER. She was prescribed flu medicine, painkillers and rest, and sent home.

And that's my odyssey so far. On top of it all, from Wednesday through Saturday we were in the middle of a heat wave with temperatures of 37ºC with real feel of up to 45ºC; at night we get a "cooler" temperature of 29ºC. So imagine a person with a fever of 38 ºC and with this heat, obviously it's not of much help.

Surprisingly, I haven't gotten sick so far, but I'm not claiming victory. I have been taking care of my family for a week, sleeping two or three hours a night, getting up at different times to check on them, or give them medicine. I don't have time for getting sick! Lol. Thankfully, everyone is better and last night for the first time in a week I was able to sleep straight through. Honestly, I don't need many hours of sleep, but I am routinely and usually I am in bed a 11 pm and up at 8 am every day, so all this did upset my sleep cycle a little bit.

Anyway, that is the reason why I wasn't here much, since the whole day I was too busy, and at night I was so tired all I wanted was to go to bed. I apologize if I've fallen behind on your updates, I'm not ignoring you in any way, I just didn't have the strength or the time, not even to play The Sims. If I did, it was just a little free play to distract myself.

Last week I told you that I was juggling a lot of things, well now I have even more things, lol, at times I feel really exhausted, and even a little cranky from lack of sleep, the first few days my feet and legs hurt so much from going back and forth, but I'm fine, healthy, and in good spirits. Today I believe, as never before, that the universe does not send you more than you can handle.

At this point my family is already in recovery, if I don't get sick too, it's likely by I'll be able to get back to my simming routine. Now, if I do get sick, I hope to recover as quickly as the others. Whatever happens, I'll be around. Know that, even if I don't comment, I read you, and I am with you, especially with those who are going through difficult times of any kind.

Ok, I said to myself this was going to be a short post, but I made a wall of text instead (for a change). My apologies if it's written in a sloppy or confusing way, I just wanted to write it quickly to let you know where I have been and what has been going on with me these days. I hope you are all well, please take care of yourselves, health is a treasure that can be lost at any moment, the flu is a nasty disease, we must never let our guard down and forget to take the necessary measures to prevent it.

Last, but not least, I want to thank all of you who have mentioned me, tagged me, sent me asks and/or stars to my inbox, commented and/or liked what few posts I could do these days, I appreciate it very much and I'll try to reply to you as soon as I can, though I've fallen so far behind that I don't know if I'll be able to find your mentions in my notifications. In any case, thank you very, very much to all of you for thinking about me in my absence. 💗 I'll see you soon, hopefully, with more sim adventures, stay tuned!

[justisco]

i have a new found respect for anyone with kids, i’ve babysat my 9 month old nephew tonight and by 8:30 i thought it was 10:30

[olessan]

I love the fact that I can work as hard as I can manage with a broken tooth and a dying tooth (one on each side, I've been chewing on the cavity for a year) and I still cannot save even $10 towards getting dental treatment (2 impacted wisdom teeth, + tooth broken off under the gum, + bad cavity) because I barely make enough to cover my food and board and the insane energy bill

[ouchhq]

.

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

.

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

uh oh! worlds stupidest little guy used the wrong lotion and now everything smells like my childhood bathroom and the year is 2016 and its february which means its almost valentines day which is perhaps the most accursed date on the calendar and the year is 2016 and your least favorite little guy is in full blown survival panic mode!

[youngks-smile]

What I Want You To Know About Long COVID

Well lads, I've been suffering from Long COVID for over a year now. My life is at a complete standstill. I'm 25 years old and I'm too sick to go back to school, I can't work, I had to move back in with my parents and I'm still stuck here.

Here are just a few things I wish people knew about Long COVID, including things I didn't know myself until I got it.

COVID destroys your immune system. Yes, even if you don't have Long COVID. Are you getting sick more often now? When you get sick, does it last longer? There are many studies showing that COVID causes t cell depletion, even in mild COVID cases! T cells are how your body remembers how to fight off infections you've had before so losing those cells? Bad news.

Your initial infection can be mild and you can still get Long COVID. Right from Yale Medicine, "Most people with Long COVID had mild acute COVID." (This is also a good link for a basic Long COVID overview).

There can be a gap of time between when you "get better" from the initial COVID infection to the onset of Long COVID symptoms. Some people get sick with an initial COVID infection and never get better. Some get better and then weeks or months later start developing Long COVID symptoms. Long COVID symptoms can even fluctuate over time, can go away for months and then suddenly come back.

So many people have Long COVID and don't realize it. Do you feel more tired lately but no matter how much you sleep, nothing helps? Is it harder to concentrate at work or school? Can you just not think like you used to? You could have Long COVID and not even know it. Even mild post-COVID symptoms are still Long COVID.

COVID can do anything to your body. Long COVID has over 200 recognized symptoms and can affect basically any part or system of your body. There is no one mechanism or cause of Long COVID which unfortunately also means there's no one cure either.

The effects of COVID are cumulative. Each COVID reinfection increases your chances of developing Long COVID. COVID is also affecting your body in other ways, yes, even if you're otherwise young and healthy! "Repeat COVID-19 infections increase risk of organ failure, death".

Once you have Long COVID, repeat COVID infections will make your symptoms worse. "80% [of Long COVID patients] saw their symptoms worsen [from reinfection]. In 60% of people who were in recovery or remission from Long COVID, reinfection caused a recurrence of Long COVID."

There is a lot more I want to say about Long COVID but I want to keep this post at least somewhat manageable to read. Like how when COVID is contracted during pregnancy, those COVID-exposed fetuses have a 6.3-fold increased risk of motor developmental delays, or that another study found 50% of babies exposed to COVID in utero had developmental delays.

You need to keep caring about COVID, for others around you and also for yourself even if you're "healthy". Everyone is at risk. And don't forget 40-60% of COVID infections are asymptomatic, which is why masking even if you feel fine is crucial. The only way right now to not get Long COVID is to not get COVID in the first place. It's not too late, if you've stopped masking it's never too late to start again! I know it's easy to get distracted by things in your life that seem more real than the possibility of getting sick some time in the future, and the peer pressure to not mask can be intense. But it only feels less real or less important until your entire life is having Long COVID. Trust me.

I know this is a complicated issue, many people can't afford to stay home when sick even if they want to because of their jobs, there are disgusting policies trying to ban wearing masks, but please if you can. Keep masking. Masking works, masking saves lives.

This post got a bit longer than I wanted so below the cut is a non-exhaustive list of my Long COVID symptoms and some of my experiences as one of the "healthy young people" who got "unlucky". cw brief mention of suicidal ideation.

Welcome to the Thunderdome that is my body with Long COVID. Keep in mind these are just my experiences and symptoms, Long COVID can cause any range of symptoms at varying severities.

Dysautonomia: Exercise intolerance, Post-Exertional Malaise (PEM), fatigue, and heat intolerance. What do those things mean? Here's some specific examples. Absolutely terrible circulation I am so cold all the time but also, if I get a little too warm I will pass out. Eating hot food makes my heart rate spike, I sweat, my body feels heavy. Blood pooling and pins and needles in my feet when I walk. Don't even think about exercising past walking, it's impossible. I used to work out an hour a day 4 times a week and now walking up one flight of stairs makes my heart pound and I can't breathe. Can't take even just warm showers anymore or I will pass out. Heat rashes from being in the sun for 10 minutes.

Digestive issues: Honestly too many to name but: constant bloating, extreme nausea, constipation, slow motility, lack of appetite, just so much cramping and pain. I lost 18 pounds from Long COVID, as someone who was already considered underweight their entire life, and almost had to get a shunt put into my chest to deliver nutrients because I was nearly completely unable to eat. For the first 6 months of Long COVID, if I could manage 600 calories a day, that was a good day.

Histamine intolerance: Oh boy. My worst symptoms, I don't even know where to start with it. If you know Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS) it's very similar. I can only eat 19 foods. If i eat a single bite of something not on that list, it's 48 hours of absolute hell. Coughing, migraines, itchy eyes, such extreme nausea I cannot even describe it, panic/feeling of doom, racing heart rate, derealization, rash, uncontrollable muscle tremors. I only learned about histamine intolerance 5 months into having Long COVID so before that, I was experiencing these symptoms nearly every single day. Terrifying isn't even a strong enough word to describe how it felt to experience all this and have no idea what it was, how to stop it, or if it would ever stop. Really dark times.

Neurological issues: More of that derealization. Inability to concentrate. Anxiety. OCD-like symptoms such as thoughts getting "stuck" in my head, repeating 24/7 completely unable to stop them, genuinely felt like my brain had cracked open and I had lost my mind. Constant dizziness like I'm on a boat.

Sleep issues: I sleep like garbage. I have insomnia, I wake up dozens of times every night and every single time I sleep I have intensely vivid dreams. I can't sleep longer than 7 hours total no matter how exhausted I am. It is exhausting. I'm exhausted, I'm so so tired.

And finally. Just. Really intense suicidal ideation. My body, my health, my entire life has been stolen from me because someone else decided my life was worth less to them than wearing a mask or staying home if they feel sick. Before I got Long COVID, I was preparing to go to South Korea to teach English, then on to a PhD in neurolinguistics, I was supposed to meet my long distance partner and had already booked plane tickets when I got sick. All of that has been destroyed.

Most of us with Long COVID are stuck in a cycle of being extremely sick, then if you're lucky you'll slowly get better over months, just to get reinfected and go right back where you started or worse. Honestly, I'm not scared of dying from COVID. I'm scared of living for a long time, suffering from Long COVID the entire time. This isn't living.

I don't know how to end this now. I'm still fighting, I'm trying experimental treatments, I'm not giving up yet. I hope everyone reading this stays healthy and well.

[toastsnaffler]

I have to be up for work in 3 hours and I'm gonna be real I think ive hit the point where I might not be getting any sleep at all. for fucks sake.

[bimbobaggins69]

dreams about my dealer…

dealer e.m. x fem reader

blurb request: 💌Hey Tori! Hope your day is going lovely 😊 As a request for the vday celebration, could I pls get a blurb where the reader is nerdy and loves reading old cheesy romance novels like these? And one night she falls asleep after reading and she fantasizes about her dealer Eddie as this suave romance hero who sweeps her off her feet and gets her all hot and bothered. And so after that night she starts buying books covers where the men resemble him and he catches on during one of their smoke seshs. You decide how it ends 😉😉 by: @honey-flustered

authors note: This is such a fun request, thank you for sending it in lovely. Hope you enjoy <3 if anyone wants a part two of just smut pls lmk cause I’d love to, but ya know I’m trying to blurb here.

all of my works are 18+

“there ya go, wrap your arms around me, sweet girl. Just like that.” The familiar voice bellows into your neck.

“I’ve got you now, sweetheart.” He murmurs against your flesh this time, sending shivers down your spine. The long familiar hair tickles at your collar bone as his arms wrap tighter around you. This time causing a very needed friction between you and this mystery man.

“Mmm, go ahead angel, make yourself feel good.” He says again before removing his face from the crook of your neck and revealing himself to you.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

You pop up out of bed, removing your sleep mask before you slam your hand down on the obnoxious alarm clock sitting on your side table.

You feel a wetness in your panties when you go to stand up and it’s as if a flash goes off in your mind and you’re taken back to the dream you were just awoken from. Eddie, your drug dealer in nothing but blue jeans, his hair wrapped in a low bun and his big muscular chest dripping with sweat as he held you against his body protectively.

You look back over towards your bed, eyes glancing over the book you fell asleep reading. You couldn’t deny the man on the cover looked pretty close in comparison to eddie, long hair and the same exact attire as he was wearing in your dream. The man had a smirk on his face that was almost identical to the usual smirk eddie always had when you’d buy your weed from him.

later that day you find yourself across town, at your local library; ready to check out any and every dirty romance novel with a man that in some capacity meets your dealers description. You couldn’t believe the crush that formed from one little dream, you’d been festering on thoughts of eddie all day and you need more ammo for these ongoing fantasies and the very welcomed dreams you might have tonight.

You’re able to find five books in total, and you just knew you were gonna whip through them all in one week. There was a hunger in your center that just needed to be satiated, and if you couldn’t have the real thing, then the next best will do just fine.

The next morning, you speed walk through the halls of Hawkins high, binder held tight to your body as you keep your head down just trying to get to biology in one piece, but you’re running late so your feet move frantically as you go over an excuse to give Mr. Sivertson before you breech his classroom door. As you become deeply lost in your thoughts you collide into another body who was rounding the corner, your binder falls out of your hands and on to the floor as the other persons hands catch you by your waist.

“Where’s the fire, sweetheart?” The all too familiar voice fills your ears and you freeze, eyes now level with an ozzy shirt and his statement leather jacket.

Eddie’s eyes glance down towards your stuff that fell into a messy pile between your feet, your heart hammers when he bends down to grab something. The smirk on his face tells you exactly what he’d found and now you just want to run back to where you came from, get in your car and drive to a whole new town.

“Whatcha got here?” He says through a dopey laugh, as if you’d been caught red handed. That’s exactly what’s happening.

“Didn’t think a church mouse like you would read these kinds of books.” He whispers, although you two are the only ones in the hall.

“I-I’m not a church mouse, and give me my book back.” You huff and snatch your book out of his heavily ringed hand, but your face was far too guilty and you knew that eddie knew exactly why you had these books in your possession.

You eventually side step him, not wanting to hear any of his teasing that you knew he’d readily dish out. Eddie wasn’t a bully per say but he was an asshole, a cocky asshole to be specific.

Once you’re out of biology, you speed walk to your locker. Ready to put this godforsaken book away until the end of the day, when you can read it in bed, cuddled up where no one would make fun of you. But as you open your locker a folded piece of paper falls out and hits the toe of your flat. you shove your binder into a cubbie before bending down to retrieve it.

Meet me behind the football field after school

- EM

Your stomach fills with butterflies as it simultaneously sinks into the depths of your ass.

Why would he want to meet up after school? Was he going to poke fun at you? Have you show his friends your book so they could all laugh at you?

But another part of your brain said:

What if this is it? What if he really wants you? Maybe he’ll kiss you? Maybe you can finally feed this hunger.

That was all you needed to make your split decision.

After school, you grab your book from your locker and make a beeline for the football field. Bypassing quick goodbyes from your friends.

When you finally make it to the tree line, you exhale a deep breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, then you take a few deeper steps into the desolate woods. No one else came back here except for one infamous metalhead, so you knew you wouldn’t be met with any asshole jocks. That settled your stomach a bit, but not fully.

You see the back of Eddie’s head first as he sits on the old warped, wooden bench; hunched over as if in concentration. When you move closer, walking around the rickety table you can now see that he’s breaking up a nug of weed and placing it into a zig zag before rolling it up, snug.

Your eyes meet when he glides his tongue along the lining, he smirks up at you as your eyes gawk at the movements of his pink muscle, licking up and down. You can’t help but to squeeze your thighs together, that burning in your core blazes hot and he hasn’t even touched you.

Your eyes flicker back up into his and you realize that he’s watching you, watch him.

In a moment of faux confidence, you ask—

“What’s with the letter in my locker, Munson? I thought I was the one that was supposed to put the letters in your locker when I want to smoke.” You shoot him a weak smile, making him scoff as he puts the joint behind his ear for safe keeping.

“Are you gonna sit your ass down and smoke this with me or not?” He huffs, pulling a zippo lighter out of his leather jacket pocket and flipping the lid open and closed, open and closed. Is-is that a nervous tick? Is he nervous, too?

You lower yourself onto the seat in front of him, taking on your own nervous tick of picking at your nails.

He takes the joint from behind his ear, his eyes never leaving your form and it has you cowering deeper into yourself. He lights the spliff and inhales deep, holding it in for a second and then letting the smoke bellow out of his nose and mouth. You can’t deny how undeniably sexy he is.

“So, those little slutty novels you have—” He starts

“They’re not slutty! They’re romance novels, Eddie!” You screech in embarrassment, as your cheeks heat up from the deep cackle he makes in your expense.

“Yeah yeah, princess. Tell me, do they fuck in these romance novels?” He throws weak quotation marks up for the last two words, as his eyebrows shoot up under his bangs in question.

“Well, I mean…yeah they do.” You respond with a defeated slump of your shoulders.

“Mhm, just as I suspected. Slutty.” The way he sing-songs ‘slutty’ makes you fall into a fit of giggles, and the noise is music to Eddie’s ears.

“So uh, do you want me to make you feel better than those shitty books ever could?”

[charlotte-zophie]

Therapy conversation

Dear Fandom, dear Mr. Gaiman,

I hope this isn´t weird but i have something to confess.

Since I watched the second season of Good Omens, I've gone through so many phases that I barely recognize myself anymore.

My first reaction after episode 6 was shock, then I was disturbed because I didn't know that it was possible for a series to have such a strong influence on my psyche, I questioned myself and doubted my sanity. Then I was overcome by an incredible sadness and was really heartbroken. I felt like a pubescent teenager, in my mid-30s. I couldn't sleep properly for several days, had nightmares and my thoughts were with these two ineffable loving idiots the whole time.

And the worst thing about it was that for the first few days I was really ashamed to admit to myself and my husband that I was completely and hopelessly immersed in this world. I did nothing but watch videos, listen to sad songs, and read heartbreaking fanfictions for days. And of course I read the book again and watched the series over and over again. All in the hope that it will ease my heartache a little.

But as is often the case in these situations, after a few days in which no real change occurs, you have the thought that you will be lost in this feeling forever. But since I have 3 children that I need to look after, of course locking myself away for weeks with heartbreak wasn't an option, so I had to find an outlet for myself to channel my pain.

So I started painting a picture. By Aziraphale and Crowley. And stroke by stroke I let my feelings flow out of me and into the picture.

It took over a week until I had a motif in which I could see my thoughts and feelings expressed and then it took another week until I finished the picture. On an old canvas with paints that haven't been used for a long time, with many, many layers of old paint underneath.

But when the picture was finally finished, it really took a load off my mind. It was like I had broken a dam and was finally able to let it all out and convert it into creative energy.

But I think the most important thing was that I uploaded the picture to Tumblr and received such a response that I was incredibly touched and immediately motivated to paint more pictures.

Since that day, hardly a moment goes by when I am not holding a pen in my hand or not thinking about a new picture. I'm in one of the most creative phases in a very long time and I'm really enjoying it.

I am so grateful for the wonderful people here! Here I see that I'm not alone with my strange feelings that I still don't really know how to classify. Here I read thoughts that are so similar to mine, here I see works of art that melt my heart, here I feel understood!

And I am so grateful for the pain that showed me the way back to my creative energy!

Thank you Fandom!

Thank you Neil Gaiman!

I would have been lost without you!

Because I don't know my way around here very well, I didn't think about pinning the picture in question as a link when I created this post, but since many people have asked about it, I've pinned it here. Thank you all, love love love

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: some awkward moments but nothing crazy.

part 1 - Part two!!! - part 3 - part 4

—————-

You indeed did not see John price the next morning but what you did see was a handwritten note stuck to the fridge beneath a magnet.

“Good morning, as I mentioned my job is demanding. I’m not sure how long I'll be gone for but I can estimate at least a month. If you need me, my phone number is below along with my check for this month's rent and the next. - John price”

You reach for the envelope that is attached behind the note and pull it open and what the fuck. You knew he had to have money but in what world would someone pay this much rent for a house with a roommate? You immediately grab your own checkbook and write him for the amount that’s overpaid, making a mental note to make sure you give it to him.

————

Weeks pass slowly and life goes on as it did before. The only difference is you're no longer struggling to make ends meet. So to celebrate your success you order that 6 foot canvas you’d been wanting for ages and a new oil paint.

When you got the notification that it had arrived, thank god for two day shipping, you squealed and ran to grab it before the mailman even walked away. He offered to help you as he watched you give it a bear hug and waddle it through your door yelling out a meek ‘no Thankyou’. You dragged it down the hallway and into the sunroom resting it up against the wall. Ripping the clear plastic film off of new canvases comes in third place to the best things in life.

Sitting in the sun that evening you stroke deep blue oil paints that try their best to replicate ocean waters, and white specks that wish they could induce the same feelings stars do.

You’ve been at this same painting for 3 weeks, coming home and straight to it. Now that it’s finally done it sits sunbathing till it dries. You still visit it and admire its larger than life beauty.

John’s been gone for 1 month and 3 weeks now and in that time some problems have arisen, 1. The faucet in the kitchen leaks and below it the pipe also leaks and the only plumber that’s willing to drive out to your house and inspect it says he won’t be available for another week which means the water bill will sky rocketing till then. And 2. you have no idea where the huge painting will go.

You walk around wondering where to place it. You thought maybe the living room, or even in your room but after testing both those places it still didn’t look right. You can only think of one other place which is the hallway to John’s room. Of course that spot is perfect, maybe he wouldn’t notice since he only spent one night here. You grabbed the drill and got to work mounting it immediately. Once all was said and done you gave it a once over, smiled, snapped a picture of it to send to your sister and walked away.

———

John arrived back exactly at the two month mark early in the AM. He opened the house door as quietly as possible and removed his boots by the door to avoid the creaking wood of the floor and continued sluggishly hauling his bag to his room. Being the man he is, he notices everything, those watchful eyes of his never miss a detail so he does indeed notice and take a second to admire the newly found painting hung in front of his bedroom door before unlocking it to set his stuff down.

After a much needed and appreciated shower he reads the clock at 7AM thinking he can sleep for a little, that is of course until he hears a knock at the door. Making his way down the hall he peeps through the window and sees a handyman?

“Good morning sir, how can I help you?” He says opening the door.

“Good morning, your wife called for a leaking pipe, told her I’d come by sometime today.” He looks down the hall towards your room and confirms the fact that you're definitely still very well asleep.

“My wife? Oh yes my wife, that lady I could’ve sworn I told her to cancel this appointment we actually got it all sorted out.” He lies like it's second nature.

“I actually charge a late cancellation fee that must be paid upfront.” He inquires slightly annoyed.

“How much?” John replies feeling sorry for this man that drove out here and is now being sent away.

“100$ flat.” John shuts the door and quickly fetches his wallet from the pocket of his cargo pants and returns with two bills one for the inconvenience and sends the man on his way.

Sleep can wait.

—————

You wake up to the sound of clanking in the kitchen and as a woman that technically lives alone in the middle of the forest you're terrified.

Grabbing the bat beside your bed still fully dressed in the least threatening attire, you tiptoe to the source of the noise and breathe out the strongest sigh of relief ever known to man.

“Jesus Christ John you scared me, what’re you doing?” You loudly admit startling him in return.

“Fixing this pipe that you called an overpriced handyman for.” You stare at him subconsciously admiring the way he looks, slightly disheveled, face screwed in concentration and strong hands twisting the wrench in his hand and let’s not mention the rise of his shirt.

“You okay?” He says removing himself from under the sink leaning back on his knees to stare up at you.

“Yeah, yes I’m so sorry, um so where did the handy man go?” He stands with a grunt and leans his back against the counter.

“On his merry way.” He replies, turning around to turn the faucet on checking if it leaks, then off to see if it still drips and as he expects, it does neither.

“How much do I owe you for the late cancellation fee?” That man has handled your plumbing issues before and you’ve definitely canceled late more than once.

“Technically you didn’t cancel on him, I did so don’t worry.” He says picking his tools up off the ground placing them messily into the tool box.

“Well Thank You.” You say awkwardly.

“Of course.” He smiles making the dimples beneath his beard awfully noticeable.

“Oh and by the way your rent is only two thousand five hundred a month.” You say walking to the kitchen drawer beside him and pulling out a check that’s already filled out and handing it to him.

“Utilities included?” He asks, grabbing the check written out for three thousand and also taking in notice that same scent that clung to those sheets you made his bed with weeks ago as you sweep by.

“Yeah I don’t mind paying more cause I mean look around, this place has my style written all over it which makes it feel more like mine than yours.” He looks baffled at your reasoning.

“I actually like the decorations, not sure I’d change a thing about it.” You laugh at what has to be a lie.

“I doubt it.” You chuckle and slightly blush at his kindness.

“No I'm serious, I especially love that painting in the hallway, where’d you get it?” You seem surprised at the mention of it and even more flattered at the compliment.

“I actually painted it.” He gives you a surprised look.

“See you’re even hand painting the art, please I can afford much more than twenty five hundred.” You act like you're considering it for a moment.

“As much as I’d appreciate it, I'm already grateful for what you pay.” You say truthfully.

“Also, welcome home.” You quip before turning around walking back towards your room to get ready for the day

—————

John’s been home for nearly two weeks now and he’s slightly growing on you and you on him. You co-exist in harmony most times. That doesn’t mean the two of you still don’t clash from time to time.

“Good morning.” He says scrambling eggs in a pan as you walk into the kitchen reaching in the cabinet for a coffee mug.

“Morning to you too.” You say groggily, setting your feet flat on the ground and placing the cup on the counter, reaching for the pot to pour some coffee.

“If I can just- oh I’m so sorry.” He says accidentally bumping into you making the coffee spill on the counter.

“Oh no don’t worry about it, I can just clean it.” You say turning around quickly to go grab paper towels and end up accidentally running into his chest.

He grabs your shoulders to hold you in place and let your brain catch up with the speed of events.

“We will learn to both be in the kitchen together someday.” You affirm with a laugh that makes you feel alive.

“Hey the first week this happened almost everyday. If anything this is a huge improvement.” He jokingly abides.

“True.” You say as he turns around handing you the kitchen towel to clean it up. He watches you with amused eyes and a smile that still hasn’t left either of your faces and for a second something alights in John something that scares him so bad he doesn’t hear a thing you’re saying.

“John, I said did you sleep well?” You speak a bit louder, snapping him out of it.

“Yeah darling sorry I’m just going to take this to my office. I've got some work to cover.” He says hurriedly plating his food and scurrying off.

“Okay well I’ll be heading to work soon.” He doesn’t even let you finish before closing the door leaving you to stand there a little stumped.

“So I’ll assume he didn’t sleep well.” You say to yourself before pouring another cup and heading to your room to get changed.

——————

Comments and reposts are appreciated <3

@beebeechaos

@ttsbaby01

@arminarlertssword

@quakeroaksguy

@waves-against-a-cliff

@depressed-but-make-it-cute

[moonchildstyles]

First time sex with rosemary 🌿

wordcount: 9k

—————

Wiping her floured hands on her apron, (Y/N) brushed her hair out of her face with her wrist before reaching towards her back pocket for her vibrating phone. Her lips curled into a soft smile seeing Harry's name on her screen, his contact featuring a photo of him sleepy-eyed next to his kitten in her bed had her smile stretching wider. Taking a quick glance at the time, she was sure he'd just made it back to his apartment after finishing up at the grocery store. 

Quickly, she peeled her gloves from her hands and peeked out into the storefront of the bakery. Just as she had left it a handful of minutes before, there weren't any patrons now that the morning rush had passed, leaving Sabrina tucked behind the desk with her book folded open. 

"Hey, I'm going to take my fifteen really quick. Is that okay?" As soon as Sabrina gave her the go ahead with a wave of her hand with her eyes still stuck to her book, (Y/N) was answering the call with a tap of her thumb. "Harry?" she greeted, stepping out back of the bakery for a bit of privacy in the mid-morning air. 

"Hi, peach," he murmured through the receiver, voice drooping and soft, "Is it alright that I called you? I know you're still working, so." 

"Your timing was perfect, actually," she told him, knowing he was probably more worried than he was letting on for fear of having ruined her day, "Everything just cleared out from this morning, and I needed a break." 

"Yeah? Long shift already?" he pressed, the sound of sheets shuffling on the other side with a petite meow chirping through. 

"A little bit, yeah," she sighed, wishing she was wrapped up in warm sheets with Harry and Rosemary, "Just one of those Sunday morning shifts, you know. How was your night, though? Work was okay?" 

"Yeah," he said, the syllable floating out on a long suffering sigh, "Theo and Brett were still annoying, but I think Fawn is going to cover one of my shifts this week." 

(Y/N) immediately perked up at the new information. She'd been urging him to take some time off this past month; he didn't have to work himself to the bone anymore, not now that his issues from back home had been resolved. It was unhealthy, she'd told him more than once—he would make himself sick with more than just exhaustion if he wasn't careful. 

"Really? What day?" she bubbled off, ready and willing to shift her own schedule around if he wanted. 

"Thursday." 

She could hear the smile in his voice as he uttered the words. He knew what reaction he was going to get. 

"Are you serious?" she beamed, bouncing on the soles of her feet, "You have the whole weekend off then?" 

"I do, yeah. So do you." 

"Harry," she bleated, "I'm so excited! We haven't had any time together I feel like, and now we get a whole weekend! Thank you!" 

"That's what I was thinking when I made my request; barely seen you this past week. 'S not fair." 

"It's not," she affirmed, "You haven't even been able to sleep over since Friday. I'm not used to that." 

"Me neither, peach," he murmured, his tone decidedly more somber than just a moment before though she understood where he was coming from. 

Ever since their impromptu road trip, they tended to have as many sleepovers as their schedules would allow. Besides the comfort that came along with being at each other's side—especially in the case of Harry's frequent nightmares—, it was hard to forget how much they liked sharing a bed and sitting down for meals together. 

"Did you want to do anything special?" she prompted, already racking her brain for anything that Harry would enjoy leaving the house for. 

"I've got to go to the library at some point," he mused, another chirping meow sounding from the background prompting a huff of laughter to leave his lips, "But, other than that, I was hoping I could catch up on m'sleep." 

"We can do that," (Y/N) decided, shifting her view of the days off to turn into cozy sheets and breakfasts in bed, "A weekend long sleepover. We'll make a thing of it." 

"Yeah?" Harry asked, a smile audible in his tone—a vision that had (Y/N)'s chest warming. "How are we gonna do that?" 

She hummed, sifting through her ideas before landing on a few to share, "Probably movies if we have the attention span for it—if not, we can read together or something. We can do face masks too—Ooh, or I'll get another of that hair mask you like. Let me think, but I have some ideas." 

"'M sure y'do, peach," he murmured, his voice decidedly lower and slower than before, sleep vining around the edges of his words, "Whatever y'want, we'll do. I trust you." 

"I'll make sure we make a thing of it, H," she told him, reluctant to say her next words but knowing he needed to get as much sleep as he could manage, "I've got to get back to the ovens, but I'll text you when I'm off." 

"Yeah?" he mumbled, "Tell me when y'get home?" 

"You've got it," she smiled, feeling the winter sun warm on her cheeks, "Goodnight, H."

"Goodnight, peach." 

With that, (Y/N) ended the call. Hopefully, he would be able to sleep through the rest of her shift at least. He just needed to get through the next few days, then he'd have some time off to spend at her gingerbread house. 

The thought had that soft curl on her lips feeling permanent. She would have to remind him how proud she was that he was taking a couple of days off, the time well-deserved. 

Just like she said, she would make a thing of it, she only had to figure out what a thing for Harry looked like. 

—————

With Rosemary wriggling in his arms, Harry nearly fumbled his keys to the ground while on (Y/N)'s stoop. She was a calm little thing nearly any other time of the day, but as soon as they were at (Y/N)'s door, Rosie couldn't settle. 

Keeping his hold on her tight, he was able to finally stumble through the door before letting her spill out of his arms. Her feet pattered over the hardwood, beelining for the kitchen just as he knew she would. Harry could only shake his head as he kicked off his shoes by the door, setting them next to (Y/N)'s under the foyer table. He couldn't stay mad, though, especially not when he heard the familiar cooing of his peach filtering down the hall. 

"Where's your daddy, Rosie?" (Y/N) crooned, voice a soft murmur through the house, "We've got to talk to him about how hungry you are when you come over. Is he not giving you enough treats?"

Following the sound of her voice, Harry's lips curled instinctively into a soft smile when he spotted (Y/N) crouched next to his kitten, fingers massaging through her fur. There was a part of him that wanted to peer out the small window above her sink, ensuring no one was watching in—a part of him that he forcefully tamped down in favor of reveling in the sight of his stitched family. 

"You know I feed her," he drawled, leaning against the threshold of the entrance, "I don't know why she acts like this when we come over." 

It was the way (Y/N)'s features seemingly bloomed when she looked up at him. Her hand absently continued petting Rosemary, but it was clear all of her attention was splashed upon him. It was when her eyes were on him with nothing but adoration that had Harry happily anchored to the moment, warm and comfortable in his skin. He hoped he was able to make her feel that way when he looked at her. 

"Hey, H," she smiled, giving one last stroke to Rosie before she was standing to her feet and crossing the kitchen towards him, "I was going to ask you how work was, but you're on vacation." 

"I am, aren't I?" he mused, collecting her into his arms.

(Y/N) looped her arms around his neck while he hugged her around her middle, face cradled into the crook of her neck. His eyes fell closed reflexively, his chest expanding as he pulled in a deep breath. The sugary scent of her skin filled his lungs, her hair tickling his nose. 

"Are you excited?" she asked, trailing her fingers up and into his hair as she drew away. 

Matching her eyes, her question drifted away in favor of tipping forward and pressing a kiss to her lips. A giggled out his name against his mouth, muttering something about answering her, though Harry didn't pay it any mind. He focused on the give of her lips under his, the seam parting when she eventually melted into him. Her hands in his hair was a warming tether, keeping him from drifting out of her pastel kitchen. 

It was her that pulled away first, cutting off his indulgences earlier than he liked. He attempted to chase after her, craning his neck with puckered lips, though that only granted him a peal of her laughter fluttering between them. 

"Not in front of Rosie, H," she teased, unwrapping from his arms to move towards the stove where a warm oven and bubbling pan had gone unnoticed before. 

Harry stood back, watching as she stirred and tasted and adjusted, clicking on the light in her oven to take a peek inside. No matter how many times he'd offered to make dinner, take care of her meals—told her that he liked cooking, even—she had insisted that she wanted to take care of him, take one worry off of his plate. When she put it that way, he didn't feel like fighting with her. 

"She's seen worse, peach," he countered, leaning over the peninsula counter with his forearms flat on the surface. He had a perfect view into the domestic dream that was his (Y/N), complete with a bow in her hair despite the mess of a bun on the top of her head. 

A small laugh fell from her lips as she looked over her shoulder at him, "Maybe, but we shouldn't encourage it. Dinner's almost ready anyway, so we don't need to be distracted." 

"Yeah? What'd y'make?" He could see just the edges of something creamy in the pot she was stirring.

"Sabrina's family is visiting, and her dad gave me this recipe for stuffed shells with all this cheese and, like, spinach and stuff. I thought we'd try it out." She gave him a beaming smile when she finished whatever she was stirring, taking it off of the burner with the timer on the oven ticking down to less than two minutes. 

"That sounds really nice, love. Thank you. I've got dishes tonight." 

"Harry." A small scold—as expected.

"(Y/N)," he responded in the same arguing tone as she, "You're letting me—and my cat—stay here all weekend, 'm not letting us leave a mess here for you too. 'S alright." 

This was one of those things he didn't allow much room for argument on. It was one of those things—fear of feeling like a burden—that had come with the years on the run while attempting to ensure his impact was never felt. He was working on it, sure, but the least he could do for all of (Y/N)'s kindness was taking care of the dishes. 

"Okay," she relented, eyes rounding out as she looked up at him, "Just not tonight, though. I have something special for you after dinner." 

He did recall her saying something about making this weekend a thing for him, he just didn't really know what exactly that meant. "And, what's that?" 

A sheepish look crossed her face, softening her features and lining her eyes. "It's kind of silly, but I got some fun bath things and, like, candles and stuff. I wanted to make everything a little special tonight since it's your first extra, real day off in a long time." 

The longer she went on explaining herself, Harry could feel his own lips curling into a small smile. "Really?" he asked when she finally took a breath. 

"Yeah," she started, dropping her eyes from his, "But, you don't have to use them or anything if you don't want to. I know it might not really be your thing, and all." 

"Love," he crooned, the petname falling from his lips just for her to hear, "Thank you. That sounds really nice actually—don't remember the last time I took a bath like that. 'M always too worried about the water running cold." 

(Y/N)'s expression brightened at his words. "I'm excited for you to see all the stuff I got for you, then. But only after dinner—and dessert."

"Dessert?" 

"Of course dessert," (Y/N) smiled, moving back to the oven on the brink of beeping, "But that's a surprise." 

It was the way she looked at him before she gave her attention to the oven and baking pasta, how bubbly she seemed over something as simple as a surprise sweet for him to have at the end of the meal. That was what had him all but melting into the countertop. She could have fed him garbage and left him to soak in an ice bath and he'd be just as happy—all he needed was for her to keep looking at him like that. 

—————

"Are y'sure y'don't want me to do the dishes tonight?" 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, pulling out of Harry's embrace to head towards the kitchen and the plates waiting by the sink. "Yes, I'm sure, H. I want you to relax this weekend, I don't mind doing a couple of plates." 

"But—" 

"No," (Y/N) cut him off, plugging the sink before beginning to fill the basin with soapy water, "As soon as I get this ready, we're going to my bathroom and I'm showing you all the stuff I got for you, and then you're going to not think about the kitchen again for the rest of the night." 

"I'm not?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips at her insistence. Sometimes it was fun to argue with her for no other reason than he liked to see her put her foot down with a smoke to her gaze. 

He thought it was cute.

"Nope. Not even for a second." Amusement covered her own features by the time she cut the tap and turned to face him. "C'mon." 

With that, she flitted out of the kitchen with socked feet padding over the flooring. She didn't have to look back to know Harry was following. 

Tailing her through the house with his gaze carefully landing on the round of her hips as they swayed with her steps, she took him to her bathroom. There, on the counter, was a brown paper bag with a white painted logo on the front. A gifting ribbon had the handles tied together on top,  a tag with his name dangling from the tendril. 

In presentation, (Y/N) stood off to the side of the counter, a beaming smile on her face as she flourished her hands out. "Happy free weekend." 

"What's this, hm?" he hummed, stepping over the tile with his gaze narrowed teasingly in her direction. 

"Your bath stuff," she said, practically bouncing in her spot as he began reluctantly untying the bow. He wanted to keep it perfect—he couldn't remember the last time he received a gift, especially one like this. 

Harry could feel his eyes on her as he began digging through the bag. Floating on top were two powdery spheres, striped in alternating colors with dried flowers stamped inside. He settled them gently on the counter, his hands coming away with remnants of the sweet smelling dust. 

"They're bath bombs," (Y/N) piped up, "They're those things that dissolve in the water and make it colorful with all these nice skin things in them. The purple one is lavender and sage, and the blue one is lotus and jasmine."

Smiling at her explanation, he reached back inside the bag. A glass bottle filled with sweet smelling oil was his next find, the wax seal corking it closed having dripped its way down to the label. He could smell the warm, floral notes from here, even with the contents sealed away. Looking at the simple label wrapped around the thick of the bottle, he looked up at her with raised brows. 

"Massage oil?" 

It was the way she hesitated that had his lips stretching into a smile. "Its—I—It doesn't have to be used for that. It can just be a nice body oil if you want, but I... I mean if you want a massage, I could use that, so." 

So far, this was his favorite gift from her reaction alone. He settled it with a clink next to the bath bombs. "I'll keep that in mind." 

Next in line was a candle, standing tall in a cold glass voice in the bag. Pulling it out, the four wicks were sealed away with the help of the suctioned lid, showing off the marbling of the wax tucked inside. It was a swirling jade color, complete with lapping white streaks to emulate the gemstone. Under the just right light, he could see bursts of glitter suspended inside. The label boasted a vanilla sage scent, surely meant to match the sage bath bomb he'd picked up earlier. 

"Peach," he smiled, looking at his gifts spread out on the counter for him, "These are so nice, than—" 

"There's more," she bubbled, unable to contain herself this time, "At the bottom." 

He raised a brow but dug inside like she suggested. At the bottom, his fingertips brushed something smooth and flat. Getting his fingers around it, Harry already had a good idea of what he was pulling out, a smile spreading over his features and denting his cheeks with dimples. 

It was a book—one of his favorites from the library. One he had loved enough that he wished he had his own copy to keep him company—something he had told (Y/N). The cover was the black and white with splashes of red, the artwork glossier than what he had borrowed from the library. The spine was uncracked, kept in pristine condition—just the way he liked it.

"I know you've already read it, but I thought you might want to read a little again while you take your bath," (Y/N) mused at his side, her hands in a fumbling bundle before her. 

"(Y/N)," Harry sighed, looking up from his new, personal edition, "This is all wonderful, really. Thank you, so much." 

With his book still in hand, he collected her in his arms, tucking her against his chest. While he wasn't one hundred percent sure what all of the things he had received were, it was more than warming to think about her perusing a shop with him in mind, plucking things up with the intention of sharing them only with him. 

"I know it's all kind of silly, but I'm happy you like it," she murmured into his shoulder, the curl of her smile felt against the cuff. 

"'S not silly," he told her, drawing back just enough to get a look in her eyes, "I can't remember the last time anyone has done anything like this for me. I really like all of it, (Y/N). Thank you." 

Tipping his chin, he pressed his lips to hers, hoping she felt his words as much as she heard them. He felt eased when her lips molded into a soft smile. 

"I'm happy I could change that," she cemented, beginning to untangle himself from his hold, "I'll leave you to it, then. Take as long as you want, I'm just going to clean up and we'll go to bed—" 

"You're not staying with me?" 

How was he supposed to enjoy all of these trinkets and things without her there? What was the point of a sage candle and glittery bath bomb if she wasn't going to be indulging with him? 

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks, one foot out of the bathroom. "Oh—um, no? I was going to go clean the kitchen and things, remember?" 

"Yeah, but," he started, watching to reach out and keep her on the tiled floor with him, "can y'do that later?" 

"Do you want me to?" was her simple response. 

Harry nodded. "Yeah." 

Her features were warm, taking a step back into the bathroom with him. "Then, I'll do it later." 

It didn't take long for their clothing to be shed, lying in a lumpy file on the floor with the tub filled to the brim with steaming water. Harry had chosen the lavender bomb to be placed in the water, (Y/N) all too excited to show him the magic of the fizzy powder. She had urged him to sink in first, her gaze following the lines of his body before she had gone after him. 

Harry wrapped his arms around her as she sunk into him, his chest to her back. The steaming water rippled around them, scenting the air with crisp lavender and warming sage. Every deep breath he took had the bunching in his muscles lessening and lessening until he was lax with (Y/N) in his hold. He could feel her every breath, the expanding of her chest that pressed back into him, the brush of her hair drifting through the surface of the water and tickling his skin, the careful way she had her hands laying atop his own where they were threaded over the soft of her stomach. It was easy for his eyes to shutter closed with his head tipping back against the rim of the tub. 

It was almost enough to keep him from acknowledging the curve of her body pressed against his cock.

Now wasn't the time though, he starkly reminded himself, taking in a deep breath of the calming lavender. She had wanted to relax with him, not get felt up with a dick pressing against her ass. 

"Do you like it?" 

The sound of (Y/N)'s crooned words had him blinking his eyes open. He wasn't even hard yet, how could she know that he was already talking himself down? 

"What?"

"The bath bomb," she laughed, oblivious, "You said you've never used one before, right?" 

"Oh," he sounded, exhaling finally, "Yeah. 'S nice—it smells really nice. I could fall asleep in here.”

Twisting in his arms, (Y/N) shot him a beaming smile over her shoulder. "I have before—I don't recommend." 

"Yeah?" he smiled, much more willing to focus on this anecdote than on the way the shifting of her body hit points on him he would have rather ignored for the time being. 

"Oh yeah," she cemented, shaking her head, "I only woke up when I felt water going up my nose 'cause I started slipping." 

Though she laughed off the remark, a frown settled on Harry's lips. "Y'almost drowned? (Y/N)..."

Her name came out as a scold, one that had her letting out another peal of laughter. "No, I didn't drown, H—" 

"You almost did," he pointed out. 

There were parts of him, traits that he gained during his years protecting his mother and sister, that were now woven into the fabric of his personality. Hearing (Y/N)'s story had that protective gene flaring up in him, urging him to hold her tighter, keep her at his side. He wouldn't let his mind wander to another version of events where she hadn't spasmed awake when the warm water touched her nose. 

His limbs became a warming cradle around her form, caging her to him lest the bathtub somehow raise tsunami waves and try to pull them apart. He pressed his lips to the back of her shoulder, speaking against the skin, "I don't like that." 

(Y/N) wiggled her hands underneath his, turning her palms up to match his own with her fingers threading between. "It's just a funny story, H. I'm fine—you know I don't take baths, like, ever, anyway." 

His brows pinched into a furrow. Sure, maybe he did know that. "Still," he grumbled.

Harry's petulance only served to draw another breath of laughter from her chest. 

She wriggled in his hold some, melting into him as she slid deeper into the water. The milky shaded water ripped around her, Harry keeping her close as she settled with her head resting against his shoulder. 

"I'm fine, Harry," she cemented, peeking up at him with an adoring smile on her features, "But, you're cute for worrying." 

Taking in a deep breath, he did nothing more than dropping another kiss to the cuff of her shoulder. He wasn't trying to be cute—he was protective. It was a part of his nature. 

Shuttering his eyes, Harry indulged himself and allowed his kissing to continue down her shoulder, only stopping when the lapping line of the water halted him. With his fingers laced between hers, he pulled her arm out of the pastel bath. He dotted his lips down the line of her limb, nose skimming her skin in his wake and raising goosebumps. A plume of laughter left his peach, the sound enough to have his own smile taking place as he fought to smear his lips over her skin. 

It wasn't until he was headed towards her wrist, landing on the soft underside of her arm that he slowed when he, through cracked eyes, spotted a slash that had made a home in her skin. It was small, though it looked only partially healed—still a warm red and slightly raised.

"What happened here?" he murmured, a pinch furrowing his brow. 

"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed dazedly, shuffling in his hold before spotting what had made him stop in the first place, "Oh, Rosie scratched me by accident." 

It was something so minor, completely mundane and curable. The scratch wouldn't even scar, and yet Harry still felt his shoulders deflate. He would have to remind Rosemary to be gentle with her mother—she was entirely too special, no need to have claws out when being held by her. 

He apologized for his cat with a small press of his lips to the cut. 

Under the cover of the pastel water, (Y/N) untangled her hand from his that was still laid against her stomach. He was left to feel the give of her plush skin under the pads of his fingertips while she carded her own through his hair. Though he attempted to continue the dotted affection of his kiss over her skin, he didn't stand much of a chance as he reveled under her touch. 

Maybe it was the brush of her nails against his scalp, or the slight give of her body under his hand, or just the fact that he could feel every line of her body against his own, but Harry felt his stomach tense then. It was minute and fleeting, but something he felt under the blocking muscles of his abdomen. 

He attempted to keep a lid on whatever that feeling could lead to by taking a deep breath, but that only reminded him of (Y/N)'s skin right under his nose and the fact that she had been the one to run him this bath and that was why she was naked, and warm, and wet, and pressed right against him, and that was why his hands were on her and—

"H?" 

Blinking his eyes open and drawing away from her, Harry looked up to match her wide eyes. "Hm?" 

There was something teasing on her expression, lighthearted in her eyes with a small tug edging on the corner of her mouth. "Are you okay? You weren't breathing for a second." 

"Oh," he sounded, mouth dry, "Sorry." 

She shook her head, murmuring something about him being funny or cute or something, but, admittedly, Harry didn't have an ear to lend at that moment as (Y/N) started moving around him. Wriggling out of his hold, Harry stayed still in the water as she maneuvered around until she deposited herself in his lap. Her thighs were spread to cushion his hips, her bottom settled on the thick of his thighs while her chest was flush against his. Only trickles of the lavender water were able to make their way between her breasts and the curves of her body, leaving her shimmering with the scented oil on her skin and suddenly warmer than the steaming water. 

Looking up at her, Harry took his time tracing the lines of her piled hair with the wet ends sticking to her skin, warm cheeks glowy and dewy, the soft light reflecting in her eyes from the candle she had lit and stationed behind their cuddled bodies. He felt breathless—reverent. 

It was never far from his mind just how deeply (Y/N) had impacted him. Without her, he never would have been knocked out of the daze that was his life—the cycle of never-ending loneliness and purposeless decisions. She had changed him in ways he was scared of, the ways that he had avoided for years because it was easier to stay the same. He didn't enjoy thinking of who he would be without her, where he would be. 

It was with that knowledge and the sight before him, that Harry wanted nothing more than to worship her and show her the purple that he had been given now that she was in his life. Religion wasn't anything that ever consoled him during his years on the run, but if the temples and altars had looked like her, the gods held her kind eyes and warming touch, he may have reconsidered. 

"You can touch me, you know." 

Dropping back to earth with a flutter of his eyes, he realized his hands were lax at his sides, careful to keep a distance from her skin. She had been the one to tie her arms around his neck, to keep their bodies close, while he had basked in the sight of her alone. 

"Sorry," he murmured, placing his palms on the full curve of her thighs. 

He skated them over her form, taking in the rounded edges of her body and warm skin. He'd touched her before, enough times to have mapped out every crook and groove, and yet, it still felt like the first time when he allowed him to feel. It would never get old knowing that he had someone like her that loved him enough to allow his hands to land on her. 

"Don't be sorry," she murmured, ducking her head until she planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I just don't want you to feel like you can't touch me—I'm yours, H, remember?" 

There was that stirring again in his stomach, that tensing in his muscles that felt much deeper and lower than he would have liked during a relaxing cuddle with his girlfriend. It was just the reminder, that declaration that got to him just like it always did. 

(It was a bit embarrassing, in Harry's opinion. Would it always be this easy to work him up? Would (Y/N) always be able to say a handful of words, let his hands wander to her hips, and then he would be done for?) 

"You're mine," he sighed, sinking deeper into the water. 

It was (Y/N)'s turn then to trail her lips over his skin, the pillows of her lips never fully lifting from his skin before she was planting another kiss. She went on with the tip of her nose smushing against the line of his jaw as she worked down to the column of his throat. He could feel himself growing harder and harder with every kiss, every brush of his hands over her body, until he was sure (Y/N) was well aware as well. Though she made it abundantly clear she didn't mind when she rocked her hips against his, his cock pressed against his stomach and the soft core between her thighs. 

A shuddering exhale caved his chest. 

"I'm yours," she crooned, the heat of her words fanning over his heated skin.

Her own arms wrapped around his neck began to drift, leaving only one tangled in the waves of his hair with the blunt of her nails tracing his scalp. Her touch skated down the length of his chest, her eyes settling into a daze as they followed the journey of her hand until it disappeared under the water. His abdomen jumped under her hand the lower she went until the heel of her palm grazed the plumped head of his cock.

He couldn't help the way he tossed his head back, leaning into the palm of her hand. His voice came out in a breath, "I want you so bad, peach, I'm so sorry." 

(Y/N) drew away just enough to match his eyes, her wandering hand settling against the middle of his chest. "Why are you sorry?" she asked with amusement in her eyes, a soft smile on her lips as she shook her head, "You don't have to be sorry." 

"Jus'" he started, focusing on the sight of her as opposed to the weight of her form and warmth of her skin against him, "I don't... Don't want to ruin tonight since you're already doing so much, and you're only trying to relax and 'm reacting like this and—" 

She cut him off with her lips pressing against his, the edges of her mouth unable to fall in line with her kiss as she fought back a smile. "Do you think I don't want you, too, right now? If I didn't, I wouldn't be climbing all over you, H—or trying to get you to take me back to my room." 

Shifting on his lap once more, (Y/N) emphasized her point with a small roll of her hips against him, her warmth grazing over his length. 

His hands on her waist tensed, denting into her flesh with stern fingertips. Was she asking for what he hoped—what he'd been wanting but was too fearful to ask for in worry of pushing her?

His mouth felt dry as he took in her features, watching as something heated lingered in her irises. "A-Are y'sure?" he mumbled, unwilling to misread the conversation. (Y/N) loved taking care of him, he never wanted her to think he was intending to take advantage of that. 

Carding her fingers through his hair, the tip of her tongue peeked out from between her lips to run along the seam. "I've really missed you, H. It's not always enough just to call you before I fall asleep, you know. It's not the same as actually having you." 

A spark pinged in his chest at her words, the memories they dredged up. A couple of times over the last week with his busy schedule, they'd spent some extra time on the phone before (Y/N) fell asleep for the night and Harry worked through an especially long shift. He knew exactly what she meant: now that he knew what it was like to be touched by her, his own hand, his own fantasies paled so starkly in comparison it was almost embarrassing. 

"I can take care of you, peach. 'M sorry I haven't been doing m'job, but I'll make it up to you," he crooned, tipping his head in hopes of pulling her in for a kiss, "Y'want m'mouth or m'fingers, love?" 

It was only when she shook her head that he paused. That hand trapped between their bodies made a deliberate graze down his body until she skated her fingertips over his length, the ruddy head twitching over her touch. "I want you," she corrected, "Don't you want to fuck me?" 

Maybe it was the fact she rarely cursed, or just how intensely she was meeting his eyes, or the feel of her grabbing his cock, but Harry could have blown it all right then. His throat felt thick as he attempted to swallow down the moan building in his chest. His eyes were hooded, a vignette forming around his view of her. 

It would be so easy to sink inside her, split open her walls and make a home between them. All he needed was to shift his hips just right, and then he would be taking advantage of her spread legs and the slick around them. But, his worry of disappointing her—leaving her unsatisfied—held him back. 

His mouth felt dry by the time he found his voice. "I—um—(Y/N)," he started, unsure of how exactly to divulge the information in him, "'S been a while since I've—..." 

He wasn't sure what he was expecting her reaction to be, but he gladly took the small kiss she offered him, sealing his lips to hers. "How long?" 

"Since before everything," he sighed, allowing himself to sink into her kiss and the brush of her mouth against his, "I don't want to... leave y'unsatisfied if 'm not... good." 

That had her lips curling against his, a cluster of small kisses being pressed to the full of his lips before she pulled away. "It's going to be good before it's you, H. I'm not worried—I love you, remember?" 

Was it normal for him to feel his cock pulse at her declaration? Or was he really that easy? 

"I love you, too," he slurred before taking her mouth against his once more. It was messy and heavy, clumsy and unsure, but he didn't care. "I want to fuck you so bad, peach. Can I?" 

All it took was a soft nod of her head before he had his arms lacing underneath the thick of her thighs with the water splashing around the tub. He held her tight, grip stern as he stood tall in the pastel water. (Y/N) let out a bubbling laugh, clinging to him with a gasp as if he would ever drop her. 

With her pressed tightly to his chest, his cock was now fit snugly between the planes of his abdomen and the soft folds between her legs. Water sluiced down his form, a chill befalling his skin now that they'd left the steaming pool behind, though that had no effect on just how hard he was for his peach. 

"We didn't have to right away," (Y/N) laughed, fingers denting the broad of his shoulders, "If you weren't done—" 

"'M done," he cemented, dropping her onto the bounce of her mattress with only a small amount of guilt at getting so much water on her sheets. He'd change them for her later. "You're m'favorite way to relax, peach—don't need all the rest." 

Laid on the center of her bed with her skin gleaming and warm, scented so sweetly from their bath, Harry had a new level of respect for his self-control. But, that was in the past now, left in the bathroom along with the droplets of water on the floor and the candle he would have to remember to blow out before they fell asleep. 

Crawling on the mattress with his cock heavy between his legs, he fit his body between her spread legs, reveling in the plush of her thighs on either side of his hips. (Y/N) reached for him on instinct, looping her arms around his neck with the curls on the back of his neck dampening against her skin. 

"Hi, you," she murmured, a bubbly smile on her lips as if she hadn't just asked him to fuck her a moment ago. 

He could only shake his head, dropping a kiss to the bridge of her nose as he situated himself above him with his forearms stationed on either side of her head. "Hi, peach. What are you up to, hm?" 

"Nothing much," she laughed, hitching a thigh over his lip in a languid move to thrust him forwards. "You?" 

Harry's voice was stilted in his throat, feeling her slick folds give around his cock when his length split through. He could feel the minute pulsing of her clit against his base. "Jus' worried 'm not gonna last very long at all, nothing important," he attempted to joke, if only to feel of plume of her laughter fill the air. 

Instead, he garnered a smearing of (Y/N)'s lips against his own, her affection tender and lingering. "Don't worry about that," she urged him, "I don't care—I just want you to feel good." 

A furrow pinched his brow, his heart rattling when she rocked her hips underneath him as if it wasn't already hard enough to concentrate. "But, I want y'to feel good too, and—" 

"I will as long as you do," she reiterated, amusement sparking in her blown pupils, "I don't care if you finish early, just finish in me, that's all I ask." 

Harry couldn't contain the moan in his throat, the rumbling falling from his throat as he rested his forehead against hers with shuttered eyes. He could feel a bead of warm precum blurting from his tip, dripping to land on the soft of (Y/N)'s stomach with a pulse. 

"You're going to kill me," he murmured, not sure if he was speaking for her to hear, "D-Do y'need me to do anything f—" 

Cutting him off with a kiss, (Y/N) slipped her tongue between his lips only to offer a quick taste before she was pulling away once more. "You can feel how wet I am, right?" 

As if he could forget with the way she was pressed against the underside of his cock, the ridge of his head tight between their stomachs. He answered with a small nod. 

"Y-You're sure, then?" he murmured, attempting to tap into that self control he had back in the tub. 

"I want you, H," she assured, nothing teasing or urgent in her voice, only sincerity, "As long as you're ready, I am, too. It's just me—you don't have to worry." 

His only response came in the form of a small kiss and a declaration: "I love you, (Y/N)." 

"I love you too," she smiled into his kiss, a small roll of her hips turning his brain to mush. 

His breathing was strained as he reached between their bodies, his fist wrapping around his shaft. Looking down, he watched as she spread her thighs that much wider as he swiped his cock between her folds. She was sticky and wet, clinging to the width of him as he split her open enough for his head to kiss her clit. He could see the jump of her muscles, the small whine that chirped from her lips, but he couldn't seem to stop himself—especially when a thread of her slick stuck to him, only bowing and breaking when he reached his cock towards his stomach, too far for the string to extend. 

"Harry, please," she quietly pleaded with him.

The sound of her voice was just enough to knock him back into the universe. It was enough to remind him that this wasn't the main event, there was even more warmth and wetness to be explored. 

Pressing the tip of his cock to her opening, he held himself steady as he pressed his hips forward. It was a tight squeeze, a feeling that took his breath away. As much as he wanted to catch (Y/N)'s expressions, see exactly what she looked like as he sunk inside her for the first time, he couldn't seem to peel his eyes away from the sight of his cock fitting inside her core. With every stretch of his length pushing through, less and less coherent thought filtered through his head. 

Instead, all he could think about was the snug fit of her walls around him, the pulsing with every heartbeat, just how wet she was, the warmth that enveloped him and welcomed him deeper and deeper. By the time he bottomed out, his mouth had fallen into a gape and his arm propping him up was now shaky. His only anchor was the grip he moved to have on her hip, his palm slick and sticky from fisting his cock though he didn't have it in him to care. 

He really, really hoped (Y/N) meant it when she said she wouldn't mind if he blew it fast; he doubted he had much longer left, and he'd only just sunk inside. 

"Y'alright, peach?" he breathed, his words fanning across her skin when he finally looked up to reach her eyes. 

Looking at him with hooded eyes, the pupils wide, (Y/N) gave him her confirmation in the form of a jerky nod. "I'm okay," she mumbled, "Are you?" 

"'M good," he said, feeling drunk despite not a single drop of alcohol even being present in (Y/N)'s home, "'M so good, peach. 'M scared 'm too good." 

"It's okay," she smiled at him, if only a bit dazed when she threaded her fingers through his damp curls, "Just do whatever makes you feel good—that's enough for me." 

He wished he could have told her how much her affection meant to him, how he couldn't believe she loved him the way she did, how there was no one who had such an effect on him, but there was no way his tongue was going to follow any kind of command let alone any train of thought to actually form. Instead, he settled for a searing kiss against her already swollen lips. 

Though he doubted he would have any chance at composure, he still attempted to catch his breath and his brain before he reared his hips back for the first time. Pulling out of her warm channel was enough to add some form of clarity to his mind, though it didn't last long before he pushed forward in a shallow thrust. Her walls welcomed him in once more, warm and snug with every ridge forming around him in a pulse. (Y/N)'s thighs tensed around his hips, a slight tremor to her muscles though she managed to let out a sigh of pleasure against his kiss. 

"Fuck, peach," he murmured when he bottomed out once more, the crown of his length tapping her furthest walls. 

A furrow had his brows pinched though his eyes remained closed, even when he couldn't manage to kiss her anymore, his lips simply resting against her own parted ones. He shared panted breaths with her, his forehead resting on her own with (Y/N)'s fingers curling in his hair. 

Though the pace was slow, he was able to curate a rhythm that kept him from finishing right away. He didn't feel too far from the edge, but this was as good of a chance as he was going to get when she felt as good as she did. 

"H-Harry," she whined, her voice breathy and airy, "You're so big." 

His hips stuttered at her words, the previously shallow thrust he was working on turning into a harsh grind against her core. The jolt had another moan rumbling her chest with a curse falling from Harry's lips. 

"Y'can't say that, peach," he murmured, unable to keep his pacing, "You're gonna make me cum and we've barely started." 

Every stroke was indulgent, lingering when he wanted, harsh and deep when he changed his mind, anything and everything to his taste. His only chance was in moving his hand from her hip and shaky positioning it between his punishing hips and her forgiving core. At the apex of her folds, her clit pearled. Though his hand was shaky, he still managed to smear the pad of his thumb against the bud, feeling the budding pulse that matched the hammering of her heart. 

Suddenly coming to light, (Y/N) managed to bring him in for a kiss. It was sloppy and clumsy, leaving their lips swollen and teeth glancing off one another, but there wasn't any room for perfection. 

Harry needed her, that was all he knew. His stomach tightened with every thrust, his balls shining with her slick with every slap against her ass. (Y/N)'s thighs were warm and tight on either side of his pelvis, unwilling to let him venture too far before accepting him back inside. 

"(Y/N)," he panted, shaking his head, "P-Peach, 'm so sorry." 

"Don't be sorry, do—shit—don't be sorry, H. I want you to cum, okay? Cum in me, please." 

How was he supposed to deny her? What kind of boyfriend would he be if he said no to such pretty words?

Keeping his thumb running circles around her swollen clit, Harry couldn't stop himself before harshly thrusting inside her and pausing when he felt the first spasm wrack through his abdomen. There was a bunch to his muscles he hadn't even realized until the thread keeping them together snapped. 

Ropes of his cum spurted out, decorating and flooding her walls with every pulse. She grew impossibly wet around him, his thumb barely keeping track as he tried to tend to her clit even through the tremors. He ground his hips against hers, unwilling to draw away even an inch out of her warmth as he came.

The world slowly came back into focus as he pulled in puffs of air, (Y/N) delicately kissing his bottom lip. He felt so hot, sticky despite the bath he'd just soaked in. 

Was sex always like this? He couldn't recall ever coming this hard, but had it been too long for him to remember? Or was this another (Y/N)-only thing? He could readily believe that highs like this only came from being in her arms. 

"Still with me?" his peach murmured, a wanton edge to her voice that reminded him that there were much more important things than his own pleasure. 

He nodded, finally reciprocating her kiss. "'M here, peach. I've got you."

Despite the oversensitivity beginning to leak into his system, he managed to grind into her just enough to match the swirling of his thumb against her clit. She gasped into his mouth, allowing him to slip his tongue past her lips and sweep over her own. He got a taste of her pleasured moans, reveling in the feel until it seemingly became too much for her. 

In a way he was now familiar with, (Y/N) let out a chirping moan, delicate and shaky into his mouth. That was the first sign before her fingers in his hair began to tug at the roots in a stinging pull, and toes curled. Her pussy clung to the shape of his cock, his cum overflowing around himself and dripping down to the bed under her ass as she gushed around him. His oversensitivity had him crying out a call of her name, her pulsing walls almost too hot to handle as she came around him. 

He could have done this all night, Harry decided. He could have pet his fingers over her clit and pressed into her walls for hours if not for the fact that they were both beginning to see the less than favorable side of sensitivity. 

"'M gonna pull out, okay?" he panted, blinking his eyes open to find his (Y/N)'s still shuttered. She answered in a quiet nod, her lips parted as she breathed. 

Though it was a bit reluctant, he drew his hips back in a slow glide. His softening cock slipped out with a wet sound as (Y/N) unfurled her legs from around him. A small whine left her lips, but she didn't stop him, only clinging to him.

Settling in bed beside her, reaching for one of the pillows stationed at the head of the bed, Harry fixed it under their heads. (Y/N) instinctively rolled to face him, sharing the cushion with him. He gave her time as she came down, brushing his fingers through her hair and over the planes of her features until she managed to crack her eyes open. 

"Hi, you," he smiled, repeating her small tease from earlier. 

A plume of laughter fell from her lips, a slight smile forming on her kiss-swollen lips. "Hi. What are you up to?" 

"Nothing. Jus' looking at you." 

"Nothing important then, I see," she laughed, snuggling closer to him until Harry was collecting her into his arms with her head tucked into his neck.

"Very important, actually," he corrected, amusement draining from his tone, "Thank you, peach. Really." 

"You don't have to thank me, H," she countered, "I obviously got my own benefits out of this, so don't think I just did this for you." 

He knew she was trying to play with him, get him to loosen up, but he wasn't in the mood for that just yet. He was a touch too sentimental at the moment. 

"You know what I mean," he murmured, planting a kiss to the top of her head, "I jus' love you, and... always means a lot when y'trust me, and let me be with you. Thank you." 

"I love you, too, Harry," she reciprocated, her own arms giving him a pulsing hug, "It's easy to trust you, really. I wouldn't want to have these kinds of moments with anyone else—you're the best thing that ever happened to me, honey." 

Though he knew they needed to change her bedding, and blow out the candle in the bathroom, get (Y/N) cleaned up, and mop up the bathroom, Harry couldn't find any good reason to extract himself from her arms. 

There would never be a good enough reason that came above being with her like this. 

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