#who cares if she can’t speak the language she’s here for emotional support | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

entireoranges · 3 months

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Again I am going to speculate about two art YouTubers (among other platforms). I know only myself and my hubby care (and he may not even see this). Though I could be wrong and there are some secret Kiptoe and Jess shippers here on Tumblr lurking in the shadows. Hello. Hi. I understand why you're shy. And yes I'm in a weird mood today.

I went through all the comment sections of the videos in the Artists In Wonderland series and made screen grabs of the comments Jess left. She hasn't commented on all, she might later... I don't know I'm not her... Here are the ones excluding on Kiptoes.

All very sweet, supportive and a little generic. Many have the feel of a message you would write in the back of a yearbook. Next is the comment left on Kiptoes video.

Its a worlds apart different. Far longer. More passionate. The only one in which she mentions wanting to work with again (and very strongly) The message is personalized and heartfelt. I am now repeating myself. But of course we can’t forget or ignore the heart hands.

I mean come on! I don’t know if they are thing or anything like that. Perhaps its just a crush? His video also had moments between them to make you go mmmm; though not quite as many.

Hubby thinks/wonders Kip might be married because he mentioned admiring Smoe Nova for being a father and husband; thinking Kip meant it as they have these things in common….but I didn’t take it that way. Who knows.

In my head both he and Jess are single.

Editing/adding to this hours later. Still fully aware only I care and likely am the sole person to ever see this. I involved ChatGPT LOL (and I added Kiptoe's comments to the mix). This what happened... the following is the copy/paste of the ask(s) slightly edited.

.....

I took all the comments Kiptoe left on other artists videos and asked ChatGPT to compare it to the comment he made to Jess. The result…

Let's break down and compare the tone, content, and possible connections of the comments:

General Tone and Content:

Comments 1-6: The tone is enthusiastic and supportive. These comments celebrate collaborations, specific achievements, and the overall experience. The commenter uses exclamatory language and slang terms like "GOAT" (Greatest of All Time), indicating a high level of excitement and camaraderie. Each comment mentions enjoyment of the collaborative process and appreciation for the video content.

Comment 7: This comment is similarly enthusiastic but is more introspective and emotional. The commenter reflects on the journey and memories shared, highlighting the storytelling and the emotional impact it had on them. This comment is more personal, discussing specific feelings like goosebumps and reminiscing about past battles.

Personal Connection:

Comments 1-6: While these comments express a friendly and supportive connection, they remain relatively surface-level in terms of personal feelings. The commenter praises the artistic achievements and the fun of collaborating, often mentioning the pleasure of painting together.

Comment 7: This comment delves deeper into personal feelings and experiences. The mention of "goosebumps," "great memories and feelings," and the specific acknowledgment of the person's storytelling abilities suggest a closer, more intimate connection. The phrase "Thanks for sharing your vision and your energy always" implies a continuous, valued relationship.

Inferential Takes on Connection:

Comments 1-6: The commenter seems to have a positive and friendly relationship with multiple artists, indicating they are likely part of the same community or group. The repeated mention of collaboration and shared experiences suggests they have worked together multiple times.

Comment 7: The deeper emotional content and reflection on shared experiences suggest a closer relationship with the individual addressed in this comment. The way the commenter speaks about the journey and the impact of the work indicates a stronger, perhaps more personal bond. The use of "KIPKARP ALL DAY LETSS GOOOOOO TEAM USAAAAAAA" also shows a shared enthusiasm and likely common goals or affiliations.

Conclusion: The 7th comment is more personal and emotional compared to the first six. It reveals a deeper connection between the commenter and the person who made the post, suggesting they share significant history and experiences beyond the artistic collaboration. The commenter's language indicates a strong bond, appreciation for the person's storytelling, and an emotional reaction to the content, hinting at a close and possibly long-standing relationship.

——

Then I did the same for Jess’s comments…

Let's analyze and compare the first four comments with the fifth to discern any differences in tone, personal connection, and emotional depth.

General Tone and Content:

Comments 1-4:

Tone: Enthusiastic, celebratory, and light-hearted.

Content: Expresses excitement and gratitude for the experience and collaboration. Highlights specific events, episodes, and shared activities like painting a giant wall and a portrait battle.

Language: Uses a lot of exclamation marks, all caps for emphasis, and casual, friendly language. Mentions specific memorable moments and expresses joy in participating.

Comment 5:

Tone: Deeply appreciative, reflective, and emotional.

Content: Praises the person's ability to capture the essence of the event and their storytelling skills. Highlights the technical feat of painting a mural with fewer than 600 sprays and emphasizes the emotional and creative journey.

Language: More formal and profound. Uses phrases like "true essence," "unreal," "continue to excel," and "beyond anyone’s imagination." Expresses a deeper level of gratitude and admiration for the person's passion and skill.

Personal Connection:

Comments 1-4:

Show a friendly and supportive relationship, emphasizing shared experiences and the fun aspects of the collaboration.

The comments are more about the collective experience and less focused on individual accomplishments or personal feelings.

Comment 5:

Reveals a deeper and more personal connection. The commenter not only praises the person's technical skills but also their storytelling ability and passion.

The language indicates a closer bond, with the commenter expressing personal gratitude and admiration. The use of "It’s a blessing to know such a passionate human" and "To many, many more 🫶" suggests a meaningful and possibly long-term relationship.

Conclusion:

Comment 5 is indeed more personal and emotionally resonant compared to the first four comments. It reflects a deeper connection between the commenter and the person who made the post. The language used in the fifth comment suggests a higher level of admiration and respect, and it conveys personal gratitude for the relationship they share. The specific mention of the person's storytelling skills and the emotional impact of their work indicates that the commenter values their personal and professional connection highly.

Overall, the fifth comment shows a level of depth and personal investment that is less apparent in the earlier comments, highlighting a closer and more significant relationship.

I then asked “Would you assume or speculate the commenters on #7 on the first set #5 on the second either like each other and might be in a relationship with each other? Despite neither saying anything publicly?”

Based on the tone, content, and emotional depth of the comments in #7 on the first set and #5 on the second set, we can speculate about the nature of the relationship between the commenter and the person who made the post. Here are the points to consider:

Shared Characteristics:

Emotional Depth:

Both comments express a high level of emotional depth and personal reflection, which is more intimate than typical YouTube comments.

The language used in both comments suggests a strong bond and significant personal admiration.

Personal Gratitude and Admiration:

The commenter in both instances expresses gratitude not just for the collaborative experience but also for the personal qualities of the individual.

There is a notable focus on the individual's talents, storytelling, and the emotional impact of their work.

Closeness and Shared Experiences:

The comments mention specific shared experiences and reflect on the positive impact these experiences had on the commenter.

Phrases like "It's a blessing to know such a passionate human" and "I had goosebumps several times" indicate a deeper emotional connection.

Speculation on Relationship:

Possible Romantic Relationship:

The depth of emotion, personal admiration, and specific praise suggest a close relationship that could potentially be romantic. The comments have a tone of intimacy and personal connection that goes beyond mere friendship or professional camaraderie.

Strong Friendship:

Alternatively, these comments could reflect a very close and supportive friendship. The level of personal admiration and emotional expression might also be indicative of a deep, platonic bond where both individuals have a strong mutual respect and affection.

Conclusion:

While there are no explicit statements about a romantic relationship, the nature of the comments suggests a strong personal connection that could potentially be romantic. The emotional depth, personal admiration, and gratitude expressed in both comments imply a relationship that goes beyond typical friendly interactions, possibly hinting at a deeper, more intimate bond. However, without more explicit information, it remains speculative.

#my thoughts #not tagging #if it’s suppose to be seen it will happen

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sabineelectricheart · 4 months

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Dressing Room Failures

Summary: Hyun is frustrated about not getting the lead in a new TV show. Min-ji tries to cheer him up.

Rating: T - Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.

Words: 2200

Notes: Sweaty, semi-nude Zen would be a view. A shame I can’t draw.

Zen is sulking.

He knows it is obvious, his derisive scowl is so entrenched in his face that he might think that it is going to be stuck like that, but he just could not bring himself to care. What does it matter if the media made jokes about him and his facial expressions? Right now, he felt like a joke anyway.

A woman stops next to him and shoots him a smile. "Hey, sourpuss."

He rolled his eyes at her, which was bad. He is probably going to regret it in the morning.

Min-ji Chang is the exception to everything when it came to Hyun, the only thing aside from maybe the deep hatred he feels towards Jumin Han who could pull him back to himself when he got like this. Right now, however, even the sight of her was annoying him.

He was sitting in his dressing room, in his underwear, the figurine and the old script laying forgotten on his feet.

"The antagonist’s role is amazing." The woman speaks gently, tapping his knee as she sits beside him. He thinks this is the first time in his life that her touch has not ignited butterflies in his stomach. "I’ve heard that they’ll be releasing it internationally. The Americans have already bought it, and the Japanese are in talks right now. It can be a real opportunity for you!"

Hyun does not care how many international markets are going to buy it. He is not the lead, and so it does not matter. He is tired of playing second-best.

"Last year, it was good…" He muttered.

"Don't start." She warned him.

He knew he was pushing his luck. Min-ji is only there to support him. She should not even be there, he is pretty sure that the people on wardrobe must be looking for her.

Part of him hated that she never jumped production companies to stay close to him when he left his old agent. He had managed to get her a placing, but she insisted in keep being a freelancer, and so it is rare that he ever gets to meet her at sets. In fact, the only reason why he took this job instead of any other crappy parts they offer him all around the city is because she told him she would be doing wardrobe here this season.

On the other hand, why did she need to follow him around? He means nothing to her, probably. He was nothing more than a colleague she got on well with, she had worked so well together all those years ago, but it was just a job. A work friend, but the kind she sends a Christmas card to, not someone who is in the card with her.

Hyun sighed. "It's embarrassing."

He could not look at her when he spoke. His stomach was twisting and he hated himself for it. Jealousy was an ugly emotion. Anger and bitterness and living in a world of what-ifs were also ugly, and the pale man did his best to constantly avoid them. He liked it when he was the cool guy, the calm guy, the guy who let nothing bother him. The Smooth Operator.

Hyun had not felt like that in nearly a year.

He managed to look at Min-ji then, and his chest tightened uncomfortably, along with his stomach making loops. She had those big doe eyes, eyebrows pulled together and mouth drawn down in what he really hoped is not pity as he finally could perceive her appearance. He knew what he looked like, his bloodshot eyes would have that wild look about them and his jaw was set, pushing his lips out into even more of a pout.

He sighed, the look on her face making him crack just a fraction.

"I just want…" He paused again. “I want to move forward. I don’t want to be a second-rate actor anymore.”

Those words had been haunting him. He struggled beyond words to get where he is, from dropping out of school and making gang work to survive, to gruelling auditions and being a line dancer in musicals of questionable taste, until finally breaking out into television. Now he had a proper career and a proper agent and sure, he had jobs coming from left and right and has managed to move into above-ground, and yes, this year they were coming in thick and fast and things were looking great.

Yet, he just could not seem to get a break-out role.

Every time he got close, like in this show, something happened. He was usually okay with making mistakes, everybody cracks under pressure, and accidents happen, but when he knows that he had given a performance of a lifetime and he is still left behind for the lead… Well, it hurts. It made it seem that there is a glass ceiling, that he is pressed against it, but that he will never shatter.

Then, there was the RFA. He loves these people, even the moneybags, and he is proud of the work that he does in there, but if he had known how exhausting and difficult it all would be, he would have never taken up V and Rika on their offer. He cannot stand the meddling in the shape of support, he cannot stand the realization that he cannot be bitter about things anywhere, and he especially cannot stand Jumin’s offer of “help” anymore.

Min-ji smiled at him. "I know, sweetie, but…"

Her voice pulled him back down to earth. He had been zoning out a lot lately.

"Don't say it." Hyun pleaded.

He is sick of hearing it. Everybody told him that his time will come, but the only thing he had in response was to wonder when. He is getting old, already, and if it does not happen soon… Well, it simply will not.

She patted him on the shoulder, her touch sparking a little bit of warmth when she squeezed.

"I wouldn't dare."

That made him smile because it reminded him that he can be bitter about things sometimes. There was always someone in his corner. Someone who does not care about his mistakes, who does not need or want him to prove anything or do anything. Someone who was proud of him for everything he had achieved, who is not still waiting to see what he might do. She knew him, for him.

Min-ji knew Hyun the way he liked people to know him, the way he let so few people actually know him.

Even her presence in the room was making him feel more like himself. He leant to the side to gently knock her shoulder, before sitting up a little straighter and running a hand through his hair, taking advantage of the sweat still clinging to it to push it out of his eyes. He does not care how many times he was asked to; he would never cut his hair.

She pulled him into a hug, even though he was still sweaty from the shoot. Her touch made him melt, her small arms wrapped around his waist felt better than anything else.

Hyun allowed himself a second to drop his chin onto the top of her head and inhale her scent. He loves how her shampoo smells of summer, wind and wildflowers.

Min-ji pulled away first, of course she did. For a second, she stayed close, her arms still around his waist as she looked up into his eyes and he felt his breath hitch in his throat because goodness gracious, it would have made so much sense to kiss her right then.

Yet, he did not, because he knows that she does not want that. She does not want him like that. They were friends. He had to remind himself every time he saw her.

Them being friends does not mean that he cannot push his luck, he argued with himself. He can invite her to the after-party that evening. He had a good cop-out if it did not work out, as they are friends, after all, and friends invite each other to parties all the time. Technically, the party was at least in part for him, and so he can bring whomever he wants. Plus, technically, she worked for the production, and so it is only natural for her to attend, even if none of the other assistants were invited.

"Are you coming to the after-party tonight?" He tried to sound casual, busying himself with putting on a shirt and pants.

Min-ji does not reply, and her silence spoke volumes.

Hyun felt his heart sink once more as he turned to her, trying to keep the pain out of his features. He was cool, he was casual, he does not care if a friend couldn't come to his party. He does not even really want to be at the stupid, stupid party.

Can the earth swallow him whole right at this moment?

She looked strange. Is she uncomfortable? She kept shifting her weight and she would not meet his eye. She looked, and shit his stomach churned, because she looked guilty.

"Um… Actually, I can't make it tonight." She responds, embarrassed.

Oh. Oh. She had plans. That was okay, she is allowed to have plans.

It does not feel okay and if Hyun had been sulking before, he was all but having an internal tantrum now because he does not give a shit about the party, not if she is not going to be there.

"Why?" He was asking her before he could stop himself.

He does not want to intrude, he does not want to force Min-ji to say it, to give out explanations to him, but there was a sick voice in the back of his head that just had to know.

"I, um… I'm going on a date tonight."

A date.

The word hung like a bullet in the air. His mind was racing, and, for once, he could not find the words in the Korean language to express what was going on in his mind.

He nodded, with his eyes trained on the floor because he could not bring himself to look at her. Not without imagining the guy taking her out, and that made him sick.

Min-ji made an excuse about being expected back at the wardrobe department and the workload, turning away to leave.

It does not feel right. It is too formal, too final.

Suddenly, Hyun was stricken by a sickening thought. If Min-ji went out with this guy, if she dated him, this would be the last time he saw her like this. He does not even know if he would get to see she alone again.

It was sheer selfishness that made him call out to her to stop.

He knew he had big pleading eyes like a pathetic puppy, and hell, he is not above using them. If he had to get on his knees and beg for her in that moment he would have without question.

"Don't go on that date." The actor asks, a demand on his tone.

She is staring at him like he was speaking a foreign language and, for a split second, he wondered if he actually spoken at all. She does not move, her expression not changing as her crossed her arms and stood in his doorway.

"Why?"

Shit. Did she want him to say it? Really? He had not expected for her to just jump into his arms but he did not think she would want to drag a confession out of him.

He huffed. "You know why."

The desperation in his tone made him sick. He had never been like this with anyone before, but she…

Min-ji Chang is something else. He was kicking himself that it took she telling him she had plans with someone else to say something.

She had softened her expression, her face morphing back to that sorry look that she had had earlier.

Great, so she is now pitying him again.

The woman dropped her arms, and the next words from her were barely a whisper. If Hyun was not so incredibly tuned into her, he would have missed it.

"Say it."

"I want you." He confessed. It does not matter, anyway, and she deserved to know. "Every day, all the time. I want you."

"Oh." She said.

It was more a rush of air than a word, but Hyun was on a roll and he did not care about consequences. Why not pour fuel on the fire? He had ruined the friendship already.

"You want me to say it? Fine. I will.” He was panting at this point. “I want you. All you ever have to do is say that you want me too, and I'm yours."

Min-ji is staring at him like he was a stranger. He could see her mind turning rapidly, and as desperate and as frightened as he was, he respected it. She had not come here for a confession. He waited as her eyes scanned the entire room, and then him, and then her feet.

"I need to go and cancel my date."

Hyun had never heard words so sweet.

*_*_*_*_*

Mystic Messenger Masterlist

#mystic messenger #Ryu Hyun

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sepublic · 3 years

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The Importance of ‘Girlfriend’ in Eclipse Lake

I know people joke about how Amity keeps dropping the word “Girlfriend”, but she only ever really says it three times… Then there’s one more time by Luz herself, of course!

And I think the reason why people act like the characters said ‘girlfriend’ so many times is because… Well on the one hand, there’s that minority of homophobic people, who think that any reference to queer people is one too many. But I think that mostly, it comes from the vast majority of supportive fans, who are just so unused to hearing the word ‘girlfriend’ used by a female character, that even just one mention of it is a lot- Much less four!

There’s also the fact that in-universe, Amity calls deliberate attention to the word ‘girlfriend’, placing a lot of emphasis on the title, and basically flaunting it around as an achievement- The word clearly means a lot to her, so it means a lot to the audience. Add in how the other characters react to Amity, indicating that she’s mentioned this a lot… And again, the audience also begins to pay attention and view Amity’s mention of ‘girlfriend’ as a very frequent thing.

In fact, Amity being Luz’s ‘girlfriend’ is something that’s a big deal to her arc in Eclipse Lake- It’s what her development revolves around, as Amity figures out what being Luz’s girlfriend actually entails for her, and what kinds of expectations she initially anticipates to come attached. So with how Amity treats the term, basically repeating it to herself as a reassuring mantra, and clearly treating it as such… And even though she doesn’t say it that many times on-screen, the audience gets the distinct sense that Amity has said ‘girlfriend’ a bunch regardless.

And this IS treated as a big deal by the characters, so naturally, so too do the viewers treat it as something to take particular notice of, each time- So when you add that onto the surprise at hearing the world ‘girlfriend’ dropped at all, in any queer context… And yeah, after subsisting on crumbs, a moderately-sized meal feels like an entire buffet to queer viewers! The word ‘girlfriend’ is not treated naturally within the show, because for Amity, she’s still getting used to it- It’s a driving motive and source of internal conflict for her…

And from a representative standpoint, it’s kind of ingenious how the writers have so tightly interwoven this ‘forbidden word’ into Amity’s arc and the narrative, as a core and foundational element- You can’t really remove the word without removing so much of the context and basis for Amity’s struggle and storyline here… Especially with that pivotal scene that calls specific attention to how important it is to even say that word, in-universe; With Hunter questioning Amity if Luz has actually, verbally called her an awesome “girlfriend”, and how that contributes to her insecurities and doubt.

So naturally, Amity and the audience immediately think back and pay attention to every time the word ‘girlfriend’ has been dropped, so when Luz DOES bring it up, naturally, with no idea of how Amity felt? It just feels that much more of a huge moment, it’s a pivotal term that’s distinctly interwoven into Amity’s storyline this episode, so you can’t really take it out without confusing the flow of the episode as a whole. Because again, the specific language that Luz uses, the way loved ones communicate with one another- That IS a huge part of this episode!

With how Amity is initially confused by the unique ways that Luz communicates, and defaults towards interpreting them in the worst way… How Belos ‘communicates’ with Hunter but not really, not truly responding to Hunter’s concerns, and using loaded words such as ‘replacement’ that clearly traumatize and unsettle the poor kid. Communication, and by extension the specific language and terms used for that, is a HUGE part of Eclipse Lake’s narrative and emotional storyline- So yes, the audience is also encouraged to treat specific words as a big deal, the same way characters do.

And like Amity, we feel so starved and in anticipation of that kind of love language, of the word ‘girlfriend’, that each mention has all the more weight for it. There’s Luz having her own brief conflict in trying to communicate with her friends, to warn them about the Fool’s Blood; And then there’s Hunter not quite understanding Rascal’s speech as a palisman…

But by the end of the episode, he’s able to understand Rascal’s speech, able to properly communicate with someone who DOES love him, and tells Hunter their name! Someone who DOES try to reach out to him by initiating conversation- With Rascal encouraging Hunter to talk with others by dragging him into Eda, King, and Amity’s path… Not to mention Amity’s own verbal words of reassurance and guidance, which Hunter actually does take to heart, by applying them towards his newfound appreciation for Rascal’s support at the end.

THAT fits with Eclipse Lake’s themes of communication and love languages, with Hunter able to understand and transparently talk to someone who DOES love and care for him, whereas with Belos, Belos never quite responds to Hunter, it’s usually Hunter who has to listen to HIS ramblings and orders… And even then, his uncle obviously isn’t straightforward, speaking in veiled language, and possibly employing reverse psychology, mind games, and gaslighting to get into his nephew’s head and mess with him.

TL;DR The word ‘girlfriend’ means a lot to the viewer both on a meta and queer representation level; But also from a narrative standpoint, from the in-universe perspective of Amity, being a HUGE factor of the episode’s themes of communication- And how it IS vital to openly communicate and reaffirm how you feel with words, too!

#the owl house #the owl house amity #amity blight #the owl house luz #luz noceda #lumity #the owl house hunter #meta

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angeli-marco-writes · 4 years

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Sherlock Holmes - Kiss Me, Mr Detective

A/N - Season 1!Sherlock, the cutie. And friends to lovers. Two of my favourite things. I do not own Sherlock Holmes, the character, the universe, the adaptations or anything: this is a work of fiction set on the BBC adaptation of Sherlock. Did I still write 8.2k words (exactly) for it? Yes. I also don’t own the song or the lyrics used within, and if you fancy it, listen to ‘Kiss Me’ by Ed Sheeran while reading.

Warnings - Bad language. Mentions of murder and drug usage. Mild angst. Smut, loss of virginity, masturbation, oral m receiving, penetration, unprotected sex, so 18+.

Summary - After a fight with John leaves Sherlock feeling particularly down, he calls on the one person who is always there to support him. Only tonight, it’s different. Feelings come to a head, exploration ensues, but is this just a one time thing? That depends on whether she stays the night...

TO SHERLOCK, it’s just another normal day, whereas to John? He’d rather not admit how regularly these awful days roll around. Sure, the case didn’t go as well as it could’ve, and Sherlock admittedly could’ve made much more of an effort to comfort John after the apparent ‘heartbreak’ he endured. He just could not understand it. Why the hell was John so emotionally responsive to a case they’d been on for less than twenty four hours which turned out to be a bust anyway?

“You are absolutely unbelievable!”

“People die every day, John. You’ve killed people, as have I. It isn’t that great a surprise.” Sherlock deadpans, picking up his teacup, raising it to his lips, drawing a long sip from the warm liquid.

“Oh, yeah, of course. The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.” John mocks. “Do you not even care that people are still dead despite the fact you solved the case?”

“They’d be dead either way,” he reiterates, “at least we got to them before they completely decomposed. Will me caring about them stop them from being dead? No, Dr Watson, it will not.”

“Sherlock!”

“John!” He mimics.

John slams his hands down on the desk, shaking the wood and everything resting on it, surely sending the vibrations through the floor and notifying Mrs Hudson of their ‘domestic’ as she so likes to call them. The buffalo even begins to swing. John’s tea is long forgotten, but Sherlock’s is keeping him grounded, calm, as John waggles his fist in Sherlock’s passive, blank face.

“You-” he pauses, gulping down breath. “You are a fucking machine, I can’t even deal with you right now. How dare you be so cold hearted and untroubled by this. You’re a disgrace.”

As if he hasn’t heard that one before, Sherlock scoffs.

Placing his teacup back down with a clink, he stands, the darkness of the night, of the room, closing in on them both. Nights like these really are danger nights, any night John leaves him. That’s what's coming next, but there isn’t a thing he knows to say or do to prevent the inevitable. He’ll simply just text Her instead, she’ll keep him grounded.

“Why? Emotional context? Emotion, whether of ridicule, anger, or sorrow, whether raised at a puppet show, a funeral, or a battle, is your grandest of levellers. The man who would be always superior should be always apathetic.”

With a huff like a bull, John viciously turns on his heel, blaspheming under his breath, cursing Sherlock out. He reaches for his coat and snatches it off the stand, slamming the door open.

“MACHINE.” John screams before pulling the door shut with a great slam, seething, the coat stand still rocking in his wake.

John’s footsteps thunder down the stairs, but before he’s even gone, Sherlock’s phone is withdrawn, and he’s tapping out a message.

Can you come over? Please? SH

It wouldn’t usually bother him as much. The case didn’t phase him, at all, but John’s opinion did. It always does. But today was a particularly long day of being brutish and rude, cold and distant, his usual and true self, but John’s more and more impatient with him now.

Being called a ‘machine’ is, again, nothing unusual, but this time it stings a little more than usual, especially after his recent arrest, and a fallout with Molly. He only has one person left, right now, who doesn’t hate him. His longest friend, the one he keeps away from it all so as to not tarnish her life with his misdeeds; Y/N, the one he can always rely on.

He knows she’s arrived by the sound of his window crashing open. Crawling up the bricks, skimming the drainpipe, latching onto the ivy; it’s her usual manner of entry. She never uses the door.

Putting his cups and saucers into the sink, he makes his way through the house, opening his bedroom door to find her already sitting there on the bed, her coat hung up on the hook, her work clothes clinging to her body.

“Hey there Mr Detective, you okay?” she asks as jovially as she can muster.

The way he ambles across the room, his dressing gown floating behind him, and slumps down onto the bed, instantly tells her he’s not okay at all. She can’t help but to look upon him sympathetically, edging a smidge closer to him, until he’s prompted enough to wrap his arms around her torso, finding his rightful place tangled around her. She knows him well enough - his past, and his current life - to realise she’s the only person he’s ever felt comfortable enough around to do this with, and that brings her a certain swelling pride in her bosom, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Sherlock as he feels her skin heat up against his cheek.

It doesn’t take long, either, for his head to follow suit, burying into her chest. He’s always, always had a thing for her boobs, ever since they were in uni together.

That’s something so special about the two of them, he doesn’t have to say anything for her to know he’s not okay the way he does with everyone else. And naturally, he can read everything about her in a split second.

“I’m here, bud.”

Above all else, he just needs to know someone is there for him in moments like these. The world is cruel to him, and Y/N wishes more than anything that it wasn’t. Upon instinct, her hands stray, one to his back, pressing against the silk of his dressing gown, the other cradling his long neck, fingers knotting in the dark curls there.

She isn’t sure how long she stays there, simply holding him, feeling every twitch of his muscles, every breath of his against her skin, but she likes it. Of course she does, every time she likes it. Sherlock brings her an inordinate amount of comfort at the best of times, today is no exception, especially with what the day has held. Even when she’s the one comforting him, he doesn’t realise how much he helps her too.

His flat is so familiar, his bed as comfortable as her own. She knows his sock index, she’s studied his periodic table over his shoulder more times than she’d care to admit, and she even has her own toothbrush in the bathroom in case she has to pop over for an emergency freshen up. Sherlock has, and always will be, her first port of call, and that she remembers as she shifts further onto the quilted bedspread, her phone on his oak bedside locker.

His head begins to stir against her chest, his curls tickling her collarbones, small hums escaping his lips as he pushes himself up, his elegant yet trembling hands still splayed on her waist.

“I could feel your heart beating weirdly, what’s wrong?” he asks, quirking his eyebrows.

“Just the usual.” she vaguely replies.

Sherlock isn’t having it, though, and scans her a little more. “You’re still in your work clothes.”

“Great deduction. I was hoping you’d go a little deeper, though.”

“You hate wearing work clothes longer than necessary, which means you had plans straight after work, considering you finished… five hours ago? That’s your usual time for today. Counting overtime, forty five minutes, walk to your car, another ten, but your umbrella wasn’t working, round that up to an hour, leaving at 6. You arrived home, no, not home, at your boyfriend’s house for dinner. However, you’re not comfortable enough with one another yet for you to use his shower, or perhaps you are, but you elected not to, and stay in damp clothes that only had seventeen minutes to dry with the heater on in your car for the journey there. You ate dinner, Mexican, had a glass and a half of five percent wine, realised you couldn’t drive, but you didn’t particularly want to stay. Nonetheless you sat and watched the telly with him for hours, football, I can see the dreariness in your eyes. I know how much you hate it, and frankly, same. You stayed for almost all of the match, seeing as you’re now sober, but something else happened.” She lulls her head to the side, prompting him, her smile not meeting her eyes. “As soon as the match ended, he tried to make a move on you, he pressed his mouth to yours, he tried to push his hand up your skirt;” his throat bobs with a vicious gulp; despising the thought of anyone else laying a finger on her, “you swatted him away, rightfully so.”

He pauses a minute, his harsh tone of voice and his sharp face softening. He can see the vulnerability in her eyes, her walls about to crumble. This woman he appreciates so much. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

Smiling melancholically up at him, she brings her hand back to his hair, her fingers carding through the soft curls. His face buries back into her chest just as her voice offers a broken whisper, “I broke it off. I was the one who couldn’t commit this time.”

And as she lays her head on top of his, her breathing more shallow, resounding in her chest, he dwells over those very words. The way she said them, not to mention the words themselves, hold a myriad of meaning. What could she possibly-

Oh.

The subtext, yes, impeccable. She’s always had a way with implications and subtext, always knowing that the likelihood of him actually picking up on it is little to none. But now, now he’s become trained to her, her way of life, her way of thinking, her way of speaking. This is too good an opportunity to miss. If she means what he thinks she means, ever hopeful, then this is completely unfamiliar territory.

Gathering all of his courage in one deep breath, he begins to pepper kisses on her skin. The faintest brush of his lips on the tops of her breasts, all that’s available to him with her shirt the way it is. He feels her heart flutter, her breathing stutter, but despite the chemical flush of her chest, he still isn’t quite sure she likes it. Not until he feels her grip on his hair increase, and he glances up to see her head thrown back. Her spine delicately arches against his hand, thrusting her chest further into his face.

His nimble fingers reach for her buttons, undoing the top two, giving him space enough to find the valley between her breasts. Lathering kisses there, licking the swells of her boobs, his tongue pulsates with the increased thrumming of her heart. The sensation is new, so unbridled, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with the stirring in his loins right about now. That unknowing is only further amplified by the sound that rips from her chest when he involuntarily bites down on the supple flesh. It couldn’t be… a moan?

Sure, he understands the chemistry of it, the reactions that occur in the synapses of the brain, the pheromones and hormones released when one is aroused, but this is all new to him. And, from his embarrassingly basic level of theory, surely that doesn’t start until some more stimulation on other parts of the body commence? Nipples, perhaps something lower down… then again, what does Sherlock know?

Of course it’s an intimate moment, the closest he’s been to a woman before, and maybe that’s why he freezes, stops, and she tugs his head up by his hair, her gentle, pleasured smile with her lips softly parted deepening the look of bewilderment painted onto his face. Her eyes are twinkling, alight with an excitement he hasn’t seen for far too long.

“What are you doing?” she whispers.

He shrugs his shoulders with a sudden force, his dressing gown falling off a little. “I don’t know. But now I feel like I read your pining words all wrong.”

She gasps, a wheezing sound, sucking the air from the room. She smacks his arm gently, muffled by his button-down and dressing gown. “I wasn’t pining! I was saying.”

“Hmm, same difference.”

Everyone must acquiesce when it comes to Sherlock Holmes. “But no, you didn’t read them wrong at all, but I know you don’t see me that way, you don’t feel things that way.”

He pauses, his beautiful plump lips pursed, fidgeting on the bed. Brushing her hair off her face reveals the pain she expressed. However, her eyes glued on his, sadness is betrayed in every line of his young, clean-shaven face. His entire bone structure is taking a nosedive.

“For you, I’ve been feeling everything from hate to love to lust, and I guess that’s how I know I want to hold you close.”

“Sherlock...” she whispers, her singular word an inflection of surprise.

Never tearing his eyes from her, his hand comes up to her cheek, rubbing his thumb over the slightly blushing skin, searching her face, with his big blue eyes, for a shred of reluctance. But, all he sees is her, so he elects to do what his heart is yelling at him to do for once, and kisses her breathless. His full lips holding hers, his one hand on her face, the other still wrapped around her back. Hers fly around his neck, clinging to him for dear life.

It doesn’t take long, their movements steadily heating, for their previously slow, intimate kiss to grow into something more, Y/N pulling herself up from the bed and making herself comfortable on Sherlock’s lap. His breath hitches in his throat, a cute little hiccupping sound escaping his lips in between embraces.

As much as he loves just this, soft caressing and gentle petting, he just knows she wants more. He does too, that much is evident from the length prodding at Y/N’s inner thigh as she moves gently on his lap. She won’t make a move, though, he’s too inexperienced, and she’s too much of a sweetheart to corrupt him, so she thinks. Ever since he first saw her, she’s been corrupting him slowly. He didn’t realise at first, but over the years, he began to understand, and now he’s in too deep.

For Y/N? It’s always been him. Every breakup she’s had, she’ll come to Sherlock’s flat, full well knowing the real reason she broke up with them, because she couldn’t commit, because she was too caught up on him.

Skimming his hands beneath her shirt, he savours the press of his hands on her bare skin, warmth seeping from her body into his, his fingers dancing along her spine. Electricity shocks her in bursts, unlike anything else, from his touch alone.

“May I take your shirt off?” he asks.

“Fuck, yes.” she groans. “May I do yours?”

“Be my guest.”

In a tangle of limbs, a few buttons pop off, and eventually, two shirts make it out the other side, tossed from the bed and into the laundry pile. Aka Sherlock’s floor. He’s like that: sock indexes, yet he won’t get a hamper. A walking contrast.

His thumbs press beneath the band of her bra, savouring the pressure of the flesh that falls into his hands, but that’s as far as he gets.

“Never undone a bra before?”

He shakes his head sheepishly. “I know the theory. Just… you always wear peculiar ones.”

“I wear relatively normal bras, and this one is certainly bog standard. Had I known you’d be undressing me Mr Detective, I’d have worn something nicer.”

“Just do it for me.” He requests, chuckling.

She unfastens her bra, and allows her breasts to spill from the cups, into Sherlock’s awaiting hands. The gasp that erupts from him sends Y/N’s brain into overdrive. He’s cupped her chest through her shirt before, buried his nose into her cleavage countless times, but never before have they had such skin on skin contact. Her lips press to his neck, shifting her closer to him. Sucking on his pressure point, she receives a similar gasp in response, only this one is more guttural, more a sound of pleasure than surprise. He’s wilting from a single kiss to his neck.

“Has no one ever given you a hickey?” She husks in his ear, her voice alone sending tremors down his spine.

“N- fuck, no.”

“I’ll make it worth it. All of this.”

“I know you will.”

She fuses her lips onto his again, savouring the faint hesitations as he grapples with his breath, eager to get some control on his mind with all that’s happening. Never did she ever think Sherlock would be here beneath her, his rough fingertips brushing over her peaked buds, and his palms dancing over her waist. Never did she think she’d hear him whisper his next words, either, not in a million years.

“More.” he pleads. “Can we do… more? Whatever that entails?”

“That depends what you want to do.”

“Get me out of these damn trousers. They're rather uncomfortable.”

She snorts lightly, a piggy like sound, the one they bonded over all those years ago. “I can feel why.”

“I imagine you want out of your work trousers, too.”

“God, yes; they’re ghastly.”

“I don’t think so.” he hums. “You look nice.”

Her cheeks begin to burn, blood rushing to colour them, betraying her true feelings, but as he tweaks her nose playfully, the little snort escapes again.

They were in the dining hall, second week of university, almost ten years ago, and Y/N was sitting with her friends, downing enough coffee to sink a ship, eating her hangover away, when her friends decided to make her laugh with tales of last night's drunken events. Unbeknownst to her, one of the greatest minds of the twenty-first century was sitting just a few seats down on the half-empty bench, watching her perceptively in his periphery. That’s when he first heard the sound. The cutest thing, and it startled him into action, beginning his deductions almost instantly. Admittedly, her student ID on the table aided him a little.

He shocked her from her haze, too, as soon as he spoke her name.

“Y/N, eighteen, jurisprudence first year, freshers week over with. You left a boyfriend back home, but you’re more sad about leaving your dog, as I would be. You don’t particularly care about law but know it’s a good undergraduate to receive anyway. Dyed hair, extrovert, killer hangover, and apparently there’s a little piggy living inside your nose. Sherlock Holmes, would you like some aspirin?”

“That’s weird; what are you, some kind of detective?” She asked, sans malice, a playful bounce to her words.

“Chemistry, going for a masters. But I do like the mystery, yes.”

“So you’re… bright. Nice to meet you, Sherlock, and it seems you know almost everything you need to know about me. But yes, I will take that aspirin, if you don’t mind. How was your weekend?”

He smiled at her, the first true smile he’d given in a long time. “It was nice, thank you.”

And thus a friendship was born, all because he heard her little piggy snort.

Her slender fingers work wonders with the fastener and zip of his suit trousers, and even manage hers too, all within the space of a few seconds, but Sherlock is reluctant to let her go, even just to get her trousers off.

��I need to sit up, just for a minute.”

“No.” Sherlock commands, insistent. “We can make this work.”

“Sure we can, but it won’t be very comfortable. Come on.”

She’s barely peeled away from him and wrestled hers off before he’s drawing her back in for a kiss, his trousers settled just above his knees.

“Sherlock,” she protests, mumbling against his lips, her hands on his heavenly, broad, muscular shoulders. “Sher!”

Her squeal at his sudden tug on her panties disappears, captured by his eager mouth. And in fact, her panties seem to disappear along with it, thanks to Sherlock’s swift movements and nimble hands. Maybe he’s had some experience to be so good at this…

“You sure you wanna go this far?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been. I need you.”

He takes a deep inhale, dropping his forehead against hers, his breathing coming out in bursts as he tries to get a grasp on the situation. “Kiss me.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice, instantly getting to work on the waistband of his boxers as his tongue lavishes her own. His hips rise briefly, just long enough for her to tug the elasticated material from around him, slipping past her, and then he kicks it into their growing pile of clothes. His length falls into her awaiting palm, and-

“Wow.” She exhales in amazement. “If I’d known you were packing this much, I’d have jumped you long ago.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“Absolutely not, until tonight I thought you’d just laugh at me.”

He pecks her lips affectionately, “Never. You’re bloody beautiful, I’ll let you do anything to me.”

“Hmm, anything, you say?”

Stifling a chuckle against her neck, he recommences, “Maybe not anything.”

Yeah, that's definitely the right call. Still, she finds herself all but clawing at him, her breath hovering teasingly just over his lips, their noses touching, her hands clamped to his cheeks, feeling the building heat there. She must be making such a mess of his bed right about now, but for one night? It can’t matter.

This is a one time thing, it has to be. Sherlock just needs to release some tension, she just so happens to be there. Still, she can’t prevent the little glimmer of hope shining through at the possibility of this being a more-than-one-time thing. The moral compunctions of their friendship after this don’t matter anymore, because he’s leaving a fire in his wake, his delicious fingertips digging bruisingly into her bum before trailing lightly up her spine, skimming her shoulder, brushing her neck - arched for him to reach where he wants, able to mark her as his own - and finally slipping over her lips, taken obediently by her awaiting mouth. Christ, if there’s one thing she hopes for tonight, it’s that his actions never relent.

Whether it’s what he intends to happen or not, his fingers in her mouth give her an idea, one she prays he goes along with at least a little, so she pulls away. The dirty, telling smile on her face hints at what she’s about to do, lending Sherlock to shift a little more up the bed, his eyes following her every move. Hands splayed on his thighs, her small fingers gripping onto the fine hairs there, she begins to take his tip into her mouth, never once breaking eye contact with him. Yeah, this is what’ll drive him insane.

Inch by inch, she takes him into the welcoming heat of her mouth, pulling off slowly, only to go down again. She adds her tongue into the mix at some point, too, and her hand, on what she can’t reach, tickling his balls, but further than that, his mind is blank. Hot white, washed with pleasure. The sounds he emits are other worldly, so much that he has to muffle himself with his own hand; what would Mrs Hudson say? He’s always had such control over his mind and body, but this… he’s slowly losing all semblance of control, and he’s not even mad about it. What he does know is that there’s a building heat in his abdomen, a coil about to spring, and his cock is beginning to twitch. If she keeps going this incredible way, her teeth grazing him ever so gently, adding another new sensation into the mix, he’s inexorably going to finish before he can help it.

“As much as I adore your torturous ministrations, I think I need to be inside you…” He husks, his voice deep.

A smirk gracing her lips, she looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, mischief glinting in her pretty little mesmerising eyes for a second, before she hollows her cheeks and takes him wholly, allowing his length to slip partially down her throat. Her moan reverberates around him, and Sherlock begins to thrash above her, scrunching the duvet in his hands, not caring if it creases. If there’s one thing Sherlock hates, it’s creases. And being called a machine by his best friend. Right now, though, it seems as though every misstep in his day has led him here, into the welcoming heat of Y/N’s mouth, taking him so eagerly, her tongue lapping at the vein on the underside of his dick, a string of saliva remaining as she pulls away.

“I think you’ve got a couple of rounds in you, Mr Detective. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes.” He stammers, his head tossed back in pure ecstasy a moment later as she begins to work on the head with kitten licks. “But… can I s- fuck me, say something?”

“I plan on it.” she chuckles, “anything.”

She goes back to peppering kisses all over his member, tip to base, brushing his balls, working her way back up.

“Touch yourself f- for me.”

“What? Why?”

Her tone is more inquisitive than anything else, but upon that playfully rueful look in his lust-darkened baby blue eyes, she knows he’s going to get her back for this little display, and he’s just worked out how. It works both ways, she can prepare herself for what’s to come next while pleasuring him. And he gets to watch. It’s a win-win for him. Maybe he likes this sex thing a little more than he’s letting on.

“Are you sure you want me to? I’ll just make a mess on your sheets, Sher.”

She swallows him again, bobbing her head up and down on his length a few times while he grapples with literal reality. He’s teetering on the edge. One more move, and he’s a goner. His head is already against the wall, lolled there.

“I don’t care about the sheets, darling, I need you ready for me.”

She gulps, nods, and reaches one hand around her, skimming over her stomach, until it nestles between her thighs. She rubs her thumb over his tip, collecting the pre-come beading there, while she rubs over her throbbing pearl, pressing softly. Then, as she inches down on his cock, taking him in her mouth, she also collects the slick from between her thighs, and uses it as a lube to push a finger inside herself. Of all the times she’s touched herself, she never imagined, even in her wild Sherlock fantasies, that she’d be doing it with his dick down her throat. With every bob of her head, she scissors herself more, sinking back onto her fingers.

“I think I’m-” Sherlock begins to say, his words cut off by an utterly obscene moan splitting the air.

She hastily abandons her one post, and wraps both of her hands around his girth, working on what she can’t fit into her mouth with her increased speed, licking and suckling his head as he begins to fall apart, coming, with a scream, down her throat, his one hand clamped over his mouth, biting down harshly to silence his cries; the other buried in her hair.

His whole body falls lax, completely spent, meanwhile, Y/N savours every drop she’s been able to draw from him. He softens in her mouth, allowing her change to slip away from him, grasping a tissue from the bedside to wipe away any excess. That’s certainly something she never thought would happen…

He’s calm, though, smiling lazily through hooded eyes, his breathing regulated once more, making beckoning motions to her with his big hands. He’s placated, though, and sliding her hands into his, she’s allowed time enough to get into place, smiling softly at him, raking her fingers over his scalp in a comforting way. Even as she sits herself on his lap, she can feel him hardening beneath her ass, slowly but surely. She was right about him, he’s definitely got another round in him.

“Do you have a condom?” he asks.

“No, sweetheart, they’re in my other bag. I didn’t plan on getting any for a while… do you?”

“Not in here, that I’m aware of. John may have stashed some in my less favoured dressing gowns or socks, and he definitely has some upstairs, but I’m unawares.”

“I’m gonna sound crazy here, but do we need one?” She says hesitantly. His eyes widen, he cocks his head to the side. “I was tested after my last partner, I’m clean, and on birth control. You’re a virgin. There’s no point, is there?”

“You have a considerably good point.”

With that, energy rejuvenated a little, he wraps an arm around her body, flipping them over so he’s on top, shadowing her, looming over her, gazing down at every inch of her naked beauty.

“Take your time. I’ll be your safety.”

“I know.” he whispers, a tearful smile making its way onto her face. “Thank you.”

He needn’t say more, because she already knows why she’s being thanked. For her kindness, for making him so comfortable, for accepting the fact he’s still a virgin in his late twenties and, if he’s being honest, has no damn clue what the practicality and reality of sex is. Sure, he’s seen porn. He’s also looked at John’s laptop. But that doesn’t prepare one for when the moment comes. It’s like all of that goes out the window, and he simply remembers the first time he opened a biology textbook at secondary school, pictures of flushed organs staring back at him, desperately waiting to be relieved. That’s what his own coock is like right now, already hard again, virtually pulsating with hunger in his palm. He strokes himself a couple of times, glancing down at Y/N’s wide eyes.

“Are you okay? Can I…”

“Yes, Sherlock,” she chuckles, “whenever you’re ready.”

Now, he thinks. He rubs two digits through her folds, gathering her wetness, enamoured with the way it glistens on his fingertips. Tentatively, he brings his fingers up to his mouth, swirling his tongue around them to get a taste. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, he moans. She’s better than any cup of tea he’s ever had.

His cock slaps against his lower stomach pleadingly, so he grasps it in his hand, and begins to enter her, pushing gently, feeling every flutter of her walls. Her arms fly out, hands grasping his shoulders, nails leaving crescent moons in their wake at the delicious stretch. It’s nothing like they’ve ever felt before.

“Can I move?” He asks, balls deep inside her, their pelvises flush against one another.

“Please.” She all but begs.

Before doing anything else, Sherlock hooks one strong arm around her body, malleable in his hands, and holds her chest against his. Her breasts push into his skin, her nipples gaining friction from the dusting of hair there. Her one hand cups his slender neck, the other, his sharp cheek. Their eyes meet in a fierce gaze of burning intensity, and he begins to move. Slow, calculated, sharp thrusts punctuate her core. With every heavenly stroke, he can feel the ridges in her velvet walls, squeezing around him unwittingly.

“Jesus,” she cries, her clutch increasing.

“Hmm, not quite.”

The smirk in his words is quite literally audible. He’s so cocky, so full of himself, and fuck if she can’t feel another gush of arousal coursing through her, drenching his cock. How does he manage to be so attractive when he’s so dishevelled?

“Is that good?” He asks, unsure.

“So good.”

She brings her legs up, skimming the clenched backs of his thighs, until they wrap around him, drawing his hips into her at a new and improved angle. Heels digging into the base of his spine, he begins to move with a new purpose, his thrusts more passionate as his breath is drained from him by her kisses, his eyes alight with a new flame.

“Oh my God, Sherlock.” She pants, pulling him in for a kiss he greedily returns.

He drives his hips deeper, squeezing his fingertips into her supple waist bruisingly. It’ll be a mark that she belonged to him once, even just for one night. That’s when he reaches that special spongy spot that makes her entire body buckle. She all but screams, pressing into him wholly.

The coil is building, ready to break. He seems to be nearing the edge, too, his member twitching inside her when he buries himself particularly deep. She’s oh so fucking close… She licks into his mouth filthily, desperately clashing her teeth with his, eager for his kisses to tide her over. Silence her. Shifting his supporting hand, he trails one dextrous finger around to circle her clit, adding the faintest pressure for a moment. She mewls as he groans into her hot skin, clawing at him, entirely at his whim. Now he knows where to press, he settled his grip back around her, and draws her in close. This time around, he bends his knees a little more to measure his movements more carefully, ensuring that he ruts up and brushes her sensitive bud with his pelvis, helped by the extra friction of his neatly trimmed pubic hair on every thrust within her, his tip just scraping her g-spot.

“I- Sherlock, please tell me you’re- oh sweet mercy- close.”

He grunts softly in her ear. “So close.”

Their lips meet tenderly, passionately, in what they acknowledge to be a final kiss, moans mixing between them, savoured by the other.

His thighs clench, her legs tighten around his waist, and finally, her sweet walls flutter, squeezing him as she reaches her climax, his not following long after, spilling inside her, painting her soft walls white, marking her.

“Y/N,” he cries in ecstasy as his orgasm reaches him. “Sher…” she repeats, her saving grace as pleasure washes over her entirely.

Their whole bodies wind up pressed together, bound together as one, skin on skin completely, becoming one another.

He lets her down gently, unravelling his grip, unsurprised when their sweaty skin sticks together. Her long legs unfurl, splaying in a butterfly. Sherlock tumbles ungracefully away, somehow landing with a certain gangly elegance on the space of mattress beside her, his arm instinctively flying over to place on her stomach, the skin hot and flushed red. Her chest moves hastily up and down with the thrumming of her heart, while his barely shifts despite his shallow breaths, his white skin glistening in the moonlight.

“Are you okay?” He huffs, turning on his side. “You look pretty fucked out.”

His baby blue eyes train instantly on her nipples, hard in the open air. This is the first notifier, the first inkling she has to feel self conscious, so she draws the sheet up around her as best as she can. Sherlock’s not having any of it, taking a stronghold on her arms, and pulling her until she’s lying on him, naught to separate them.

“I’ve never been this close to anyone physically and y'know.” He hums tiredly. She’s never heard him sound tired before…

She smiles up at him as best she can, “Are you glad?”

He begins to hold her ever closer, squeezing her tighter, feeling every ridge of her body.

“I’m so glad that you were my first, in so many ways.”

Praise from Sherlock is a rarity, and she’ll take it as and when she can, savouring every moment, this time by holding him like a koala, her grip not wavering.

“I’m glad too, Mr Detective.”

He brushes a kiss to her cheek, “As much as I like this, we need to get you cleaned up.”

A supporting arm beneath her bum, he picks her up, and unsteadily ambles into the bathroom.

“I don’t know much about this, but I know you should probably use the toilet, should you want to avoid a UTI, so if you’d like me to leave…”

He sets her down on the loo seat, cupping his hands over his nether regions, and he hurries to grasp for things, until she puts her hand on his arm, squeezing in a conciliatory manner.

“You do remember the camping trip, don’t you? You really don’t have to leave just because I have to pee, you never did before. In fact, you frequently annoyed me with it if you had a particular point to make, steadfastly refusing to leave the bathroom after following me in there when I went to pee. Why does this change anything?”

He shrugs, dropping whatever was in his arms, “It just doesn’t feel the same now, though.”

“Ooo, and now Mr Detective feels things.” She jokes, poking at his ribs.

He recoils, chuckling with her, “Only for you.”

As Y/N washes her hand, Sherlock begins to wrangle with a floorboard, clattering about until he eventually pulls out a small lock box, from which he withdraws a packet of brand new marks-and-spencer's ladies briefs.

“Why the fuck do you have these? Anything you wanna tell me?” she asks, eyes wide.

“John’s idea. He has plenty of girls over here who frequently stay the night, simply a precautionary error.” He takes a beat, gargling with some mouthwash, “they’re clean, new, I just don’t like the idea of you in dirty underwear, and I know how reluctant you are to go without them whenever you’re not in your own bed. I stayed with you enough nights in university to know that.”

Those nights were awfully painful. She’d take the floor, he’d take the bed, and every time she’d have to wash the sheets. He’d sweat and vomit, shake and cry, plead for the pain to be over. He wouldn’t go to hospital, he wouldn’t call his brother, he’d just turn up on her doorstep, high as a kite, almost in tears, knowing he’d gone a little too far. And each time, it was a little farther.

“Thank you, Sherlock.”

She takes them from him, and begins to shimmy them up her legs, only prevented by Sherlock moving to grab a handful of her arse.

“Hmm, I like this. Fancy another round?” He smirks.

“I’m too tired, babe. Give me a bit.”

He can see the lazy smile on her face, the tiredness in her pretty eyes, so he wets a flannel, and begins to clean her up with gentle movements between tender kisses.

“How do you know how to do all of this?” She asks, inquisitive more than anything.

“Instinct, I suppose. I never read or learned about it, seeing as I never thought it would happen.”

She snaps the waistband before moving her hands to his waist, leaning up onto her toes to reach him, kissing her softly.

“Look at you now.”

After brushing their teeth in an amicable silence, their pinky fingers overlapping on the porcelain of the sink, he aids her back to the bedroom, settling her on the bed. She has things here: deodorant, toothbrush, moisturiser, and yet somehow she doesn’t have underwear, even after all these years. Perhaps that's one too many things to explain…

With superfluous extravagance, he throws her his shirt, offering her a wry wink. She finds a blush clawing its way onto her cheeks, dumbfounded. It smells like him, just like a forest glade if it was rained on by tea and cigarettes. Maybe he’ll let her keep it as a memory.

In such a short amount of time, she’s learnt that he has a very sensitive neck. Very. A single kiss there has him biting back a moan. A low one at that, considering his deep voice also drops almost an octave when he’s aroused. His nipples are almost as sensitive as his neck, and he rather likes it when she tugs on them unwittingly.

His first orgasm comes quickly, but his refractory period is astonishing, and it takes longer to achieve a second high, long enough to make her come more than once, she assumes, though her first orgasm was mind blowing enough for two. Perhaps that’s just because it’s his first time, but it’s impressive nonetheless.

What’s the point in learning all of this if, once he comes around from his post-orgasmic haze, he’ll pretend like it never happened, in typical Sherlock style?

The shirt, though a small gesture, means a lot, and her vision begins to cloud as she looks down at the black cotton.

“You mean you want me to stay?” She croaks.

Sherlock turns to her from his set of drawers, his face full of apparent obviousness, brows furrowed in that cute bewildered way.

“Of course I want you to stay.” He states, like it’s the plainest thing in the world, like it’s stupid for her to even ask. But she’s silent, and when she says nothing in response, he launches into a long winded explanation: don’t show sentiment. “I- I just mean, i-it’s midnight, I’m not having you out in London alone. You stay with me. Only if you want to as well...”

She nods eagerly, “Yes. Yeah, course I want to stay.”

He all but leaps access the room, jumping onto the bed, before planting a proper smooch on her lips, grinning down at her. He slips into his usual side of the bed, and she takes hers, rolling to look at him.

“Don’t get cold.” He warns, tucking the duvet up around her shoulders. She giggles like a child, that small snort sounding again, prompting Sherlock to press his thumb to her nose like a button. “How are you… feeling?”

“I’m fine bub, really. That bloke doesn’t matter to me at all. Bit of a scumbag if I’m honest. You’re the one I’m with, the one I wanna talk about. How are you feeling? Must’ve been a pretty big blow up with John for you to call me and be so... teary.”

He sighs, crestfallen, “He called me a machine.”

Her gasp pierces the air, her hand flying to his hair, stroking in consolation, cooing senseless reassurances to him. She’s done this innumerable times, but now it feels different, like there’s no barrier.

“He’s done it so many times that it needn’t bother me anymore, but the way he looked at me, like I was this abhorrent monster, especially after the day and the disappointing case we had, it got to me. I hate having feelings.”

“You don’t have to hide them with me, though.”

He hums gently, burying into her chest. “I know. That’s why I treasure you so dearly.”

“That means you also have to trust me, and you’re not going to like what I have to say.” His chest heaves, shifting her whole body. That’s his way of giving in. “Please just talk to John. You know that whenever he leaves, he’ll come back, and try to pretend it never happened. He needs to know you’re human and that he upset you, but also that the case upset you as well. No one’s superhuman, and once you let John in on the fact that you’re not a machine, things between you will be so much easier, because you might agree for once.”

“I suppose you’re right.” He grumbles.

He pulls her into his warmth, hooking her leg around his as he snakes his arms around her back, breathing deeply from the crook of her shoulder. She begins to pepper kisses on his salty skin, savouring the taste with every small swipe of her tongue.

“Your heart’s against my chest, your lips pressed to my neck,” he breaks off with a faint whimper when she sucks a little harder, “I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet.”

“Of course they do,” she whispers brokenly, hoarsely, “they’ve always known you.” She swallows thickly, “Does that mean it’s a feeling you’ll forget?”

“No, I don’t think I ever can.”

The silent words that pass between them both are so special, too special to be spoken aloud. ‘Think I’m in love now.’

“Kiss me like you wanna be loved.” He begs.

And really, who is Y/N to deny him? They just stay that way a little while, revelling in their lazy kisses, until she begins to fall asleep. It isn’t the first time she’s fallen asleep in his bed, not by any means, but it’s the first time she’s fallen asleep in his arms. She isn’t mad about it.

“Settle down with me, cover me up, cuddle me in. You were made to keep my body warm.” She smiles into her words, and embeds herself into him, entirely covered by the duvet, spattered in his kisses, safe in his arms. Sherlock feels safe with her legs around him, her fingers in his curls, holding himself against her. Amicable silence is how they drift off, Peaceful.

John re-enters 221B at a respectable hour. He got a fair amount of sleep on Greg’s sofa, having no girlfriend in the picture right now, but not enough to deal with Sherlock just yet. Not before his coffee. He expects to see Sherlock sitting in the exact same spot as when he left, perhaps just with a refill of tea, his fingers still steepled beneath his chin, eyes closed yet wide awake. Instead, he arrives at a seemingly empty, considerably clean flat, with no Sherlock in sight. Perhaps the unsleeping man must actually be asleep, he thinks, so he quietens down, and toes off his shoes before wandering farther into the flat. Even if the man does piss him off extraordinary amounts, perhaps he should just check he’s okay…

He gives the bedroom door a quiet rap, listening in momentarily before pushing it open. Frankly, he’d rather have found Sherlock with a cigarette in hand and the whole flat torn to shreds for the level of surprise he gets upon reaching the bed. His first idea is to scream bloody murder, but that might annoy Mrs Hudson, and upon stepping closer, even in the sliver of daylight through the curtains, he sees the duvet riding down a little. The last thing in the world he ever thought he’d see: Sherlock in naught but boxers pressed against a half naked woman, his palm splayed on her bare thigh. Sherlock? Spooning? It seems so, his entire body pressed to this woman. John feels himself go rigid, his feet glued to the floor, his gaze unmoving from shock.

It takes his phone to buzz in his pocket to get him moving, and when he does, all he tries to do is balance precariously on his tip toes in a wry attempt to get a birds-eye view of the whole thing. He’s not disappointed, or disturbed, once he does, though, his army agility proving useful. Sherlock’s hand is holding her, fingers entwined, just next to her chest. He wonders how comfortable it is, but if they’re staying this way, it can’t be too bad. Maybe all Sherlock needed to loosen up was a good shag.

She’s wearing his shirt, too; Sherlock’s black dress shirt from the previous day. And Sherlock? He never seeps in anything less than a full set of pyjamas, he’s weird like that .

This girl begins to stir, her lips parting gently, small hums escaping. Next, her eyelids flutter, and her hair shifts on the pillow. He didn’t make any noise, did he? John was specifically careful not to, just in case. He doesn’t fancy Sherlock’s wrath just yet.

One eye opens, and she whispers, almost incoherently, “Hi John.”

How she knows his name and who he is, he’s not at all sure, because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen this face in his life. The hair is familiar, and maybe, if she were more awake, he’d recognise her smile, but he’s never seen a woman in Sherlock’s company beside Molly Hooper. Speaking of…

Before he can even say anything, though, before he can ask who she is or if she wants tea or if she date-raped his roommate, she’s mumbling, and detaching her hand from Sherlock’s, rolling over. Dumbfounded, John just stands there and watches her cuddle into Sherlock’s chest, her arms wrapping around his torso like second nature. Even in his sleep, not consciously thinking about his actions, he grips her back - one hand resting just above her bum, and buries his nose into her neck.

John can’t help but smile to himself. Maybe their fight was for the best if Sherlock now has a girlfriend, someone he turned to for solace. So, he grasps for the top of the duvet and pulls it up over both of their figures, reaching their shoulders, and leaves, staring wistfully for a brief moment at the seemingly happy couple.

The weight of the duvet of what startles Sherlock, though, stirring him a little, inviting him to him against Y/N’s skin, smiling with eyes barely open. This is really nice, he thinks to himself, not waking up alone.

She smiles back blearily, and in her morning voice, whispers to him, “Kiss me Mr Detective.”

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thefanficmonster · 4 years

Text

Let Them Talk

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female) ft. Sykkuno

Warnings: Swearing, Jealousy

Genre: Fluff, a bit of Angst

Summary: We can all agree Among Us is a fun game on its own but what makes it ten times better is playing it with the right company. Y/N could agree 100% Being a streamer herself, she loves playing with the streamer gang that includes her boyfriend and best friend. But, what happens when her boyfriend starts doubting her feelings for him due to her close relationship with her best friend.

Requested by @cheetoscat . Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it took so long to write, I hope the final product is worth the wait. Enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

Y/AU/N - Your Among Us Name

I settle in my gaming chair, adjusting my webcam one last time before joining the Among Us lobby with my friends.

“Hi everyone!“ I say into the mic, a smile plastering itself on my face. Discord is a magical thing, man. It’s so easy to forget that the people you are talking to aren’t around you or within arm’s reach. You could be separated by miles and miles of land or - in our case - oceans as well. Distance becomes negligible when you hear your friends’ voices, their laughter; when you have a good time together despite being each behind a screen, often times alone.

Well, I’m one of those lucky ones that isn’t alone. No one knows that, though. Everyone thinks I’m a single, self-employed girl that’s straight out of college. And they are 90% right. Only thing is - I’m not single. That would be a shocker in and of itself, but revealing who’s changed my relationship status would be a bomb with a whole new intensity.

Speaking of my significant other who shall remain unnamed - just kidding, it’s Corpse - his form materializes in the doorway of my recording room. I give him a hand signal the camera isn’t able to capture, alerting him of the fact that my mic is on. He replies by blowing me a kiss and walking off down the hall to his recording room where he’ll be stationed for the next three or so hours.

I owe this relationship to my best friend Sykkuno. I’m a pretty new and not very well known on the platform, however, thanks to him I haven’t only obtained a boyfriend, but a following of a little over million subscribers as well.

It all started with an invitation to fill a spot in the Among Us lobby him and his friends had created. It took him quite a bit to convince me to join, but I eventually caved and agreed. Suddenly, there I was. In a Discord call, in an Among Us lobby with some of the most well-known names on this platform. I’m talking YouTube legends. I was that puppy playing with the big dogs. The newbie tagging along with the big leagues. Or at least that’s how I felt until we all started vibing - talking and teasing each other as though we’ve known each other for years and not minutes.

When I joined the call, Corpse wasn’t present. After everyone else introduced themselves, Sykkuno informed me that we were waiting for Corpse to return. The name sounded really cool to me and I was genuinely very excited to meet this Corpse guy.

And then, out of the blue - no prep, no warning...

“Did you get someone to fill the spot? Oh- Hello, Y/AU/N.“

…he started talking and he had me star-struck. Apparently, he also had me a blabbering mess cause I remember blurting out: “Whoa, who’s this guy speaking in bold and underlined at the same time?”

The entire lobby, including Corpse, laughed. Sean, or Jack like they called him most often, answered my question, “That is the voice of God, Y/N. Its source is named Corpse, though.”

Heat spread from the bottom of my neck to the tips of my ears. I was mortified by my own stupidity. I was well aware they couldn’t see me and I was incredibly thankful for that, but I simply could not get myself to open my eyes. “I’m so sorry.” I said through nervous laughter.

“No, no, I like that description. Bold and underlined at the same time, huh?“ His voice sounded even more pleasant when it had that teasing, mischievous note to it. That thought popping up in my head only made things worse for my self-esteem and only made me more embarrassed, causing me to hide my face in my hands. “You sure it’s not in Italics as well?“

His question got a weak laugh out of me. “Nope, definitely not. Nothing Italic about it.“

Yes, I don’t even know how some terrible jokes about MS Word fonts got me as far as a romantic relationship, but they did! We’ve been living together for quite some time now, dating for even longer - hiding it just as long. It’s not that we have been actively trying to hide it or something, we just wanted to see how long it would take someone to become sus of us. When we realized no one would notice, we decided that if any rumors about us started, or even fans shipping us, we’d come clean. That hasn’t happened either, so we haven’t had the proper chance to address our relationship and neither of us minds.

At this point, I’m honestly afraid of revealing it to the gaming squad. Sykkuno especially. He’s my best friend, after all. I can see him being hurt by the fact that I kept a secret so big even from him. The last thing I wanna do is hurt my best friend but it’s already too late for that, it’s inevitable.

“Y/N have you looked at Twitter today?“ Rae, another streamer I’ve become close with over the months, says urgently.

Overlooking the tension in her words, I answer: “Nope, haven’t had the time. Why? What’s up?“

Before Rae can say anything else, Sykkuno joins the conversation, his voice somehow even more urgent than Rae’s. “It’s nothing, Y/N. If you see it, just don’t let it bother you, ok?”

Hearing such a tone from Rae isn’t unusual, but hearing it from Sykkuno is completely different and a lot more worrisome. “Well if it has the potential of bothering me it can’t be nothing. What’s going on?”

Just then, my phone dings with two notifications. I check to see they are messages from Rae.

“I sent you screenshots. Sorry, Sykkuno. She has to know in order to address it and defuse it as well. I know better than anyone how fast these rumors can spread, especially if no one reacts to them.“ She says, her tone barely apologetic at all.

I open the screenshots she has sent me and I find myself frozen in shock. Some old pictures of Sykkuno and I have been posted on Twitter by some random user. These pictures have started an entire thread of suspicions surrounding our relationship.

The pictures in question are from a New Year’s Eve party a mutual friend of ours held two years ago. Sure, in the pictures we are a lot closer than what would be considered a platonic proximity. And yes one of the pictures is of me kissing his cheek. Yes we were both a bit tipsy. I acknowledge all those things and yet none of them are concrete reasons for these rumors to have started piling.

“This is silly.“ I finally say after maybe five minutes of silence on my end. ”This is absolutely ridiculous! And why are people so serious about it as well? Actual, important matters get discussed more nonchalantly than the potential relationship between two online personalities! What is this world we live in?“ I know I shouldn’t let these rumors get to me like this, especially not on camera. Still, I can’t help it. I feel it’s so unfair to Corpse. He has to put up with this as well and it’s by no means easy for him. I’ve been shipped with people from our group in the past and he always took those rumors to heart despite acting like he didn’t care. Neither of us should get worked up, but him getting upset about them creates a domino effect with my emotions - causing me to be hit just as hard as him, in some cases harder.

Rumors of the past aside, this one is the worst by far. Mostly cause even Corpse himself suspected something between Sykkuno and I at the very beginning, when we were still acquaintances, barely crossing into the realm of friends.

I pull up Twitter to look for the whole thread, barely sparing my stream chat a glance in the process. It seems pretty split - those who agree with me and those who think Sykkuno and I make ‘such an adorable couple’. The thread is ridiculously long, and if we take into account that it was only started approximately five hours ago, you can either view it as impressive, amusing or sad. Why sad? Because someone has dedicated so much time and effort into fueling the fire of a weakly supported theory.

I love Sykkuno with all my heart. Everyone knows that - fandom, streamer squad, Corpse and Sykkuno included. I love too much and too platonically to ever even dream of having a romantic connection with him. I thought that was more than obvious, but people are either blind here, or just grasping at straws. One thing’s for certain - they’re stepping on a nerve.

“Hey where’s Corpse? Did he disconnect?” Felix asks, gaining my full attention. My eyes dart to the monitor, searching through the little avatars in a desperate search for the one of my boyfriend. It’s nowhere to be found.

“He just messaged me saying his connection is unstable but he might join us later.“ Rae says, “You guys can invite someone to fill...“

“Bathroom break.“ I interrupt, not waiting for a response before shutting my mic off, putting the ‘BRB‘ graphic on my stream and yanking the headset off. I basically run down the hall to Corpse’s recording room, my heart pounding like a bass drum.

“Corpse?!“ I call out to him, one hand already on the doorknob. When five seconds pass by without a response, I barge in.

Inside, I find his usual spot on the gaming chair empty and his slumped figure seated on his bed.

“Corpse?“ I try again, watching for even the tiniest change of body language. He remains still as a statue, not bothering to look up at me either.

His hands are gripping the edge of the mattress, his head hanging low. His eyes are covered by the short curtain of his dark messy curls. I can’t gauge much. Is he angry? Is he sad? Both? How should I approach the situation?

Before I find the answer to any of those questions, I am kneeling in front of him, our height difference eliminated. I gently pry his hands off the mattress and take them in mine, holding them firmly but tenderly. With one hand I reach up to tilt his head so his eyes can meet mine. He complies, his tear-filled brown orbs meeting mine. Those tears have the same effect on me as fifty sharp knives stabbing into my chest. These tears focus their attack straight on my heart, tearing it to pieces.

“Baby....“

He cuts me off, “Why is it always someone else, huh? Do they deem me not worthy of being with you? Do they think you deserve better?” His voice wavers, “Well, they might be right. They are correct and there’s little I can do to prove them wrong. They mean you well, Y/N - pairing you with guys better than me. Those are some loyal fans you’ve got. They only want what’s best for you. And so do I. If ‘best’ is being with someone else then...”

It’s my turn to cut him off. I put an end to his nonsense ramble that’s slowly killing me by pressing my finger against his lips. The sternness of my gaze is beyond me as I get up and walk over to his computer setup. I put on his headset and hop into the call as well as the lobby with his avatar.

“Hey Corpse’s back!” Toast says, “Good to have you back buddy.”

“No, not Corpse.” I say in a casual, nonchalant voice.

“Wait, wha-“ Sean’s voice shows just how confused he is, representing the confusion of the entire lobby actually.

“I know all of you are streaming so this message will be heard by several different audiences so I’m gonna make myself perfectly clear.“ I take a deep breath, “Sykkuno and I aren’t dating. He’s a lovely guy and he deserves to find a girl who will treat him right. That girl isn’t and won’t be me though. I am already treating someone right. Someone who treats me more than right as well. An amazing person. A man-child with a heart of gold. You know him, to a certain extent. He goes by the name of Corpse Husband, but I prefer to call him ‘Love of my life’. Thank you for your time and attention, goodbye.“

I exit the call and turn around to find a stunned Copse looking at me.

“That was meant for you just as much.“ I say with a fake strict attitude, one hand on my hip the other rested on his desk behind me, “Were you listening?“

Within milliseconds, he’s on his feet standing directly in front of me, his lips inches away from mine. “I heard and memorized every word. But...” he pauses for a moment, “I think you have no idea how big of a chaos you just created.”

I smile mischievously, “We’ll worry about that later. For now...” I close the gap between us, connecting our lips in a sweet and passionate kiss.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @the-fuck-up-of-today @slashersdream @chiefwombathoagiepizza @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01

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cure-icy-writes · 3 years

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Iris Character Essay

Iris is such a good character with amazing potential, and I feel like she was done dirty by both the fandom and her writers across the media she appears in. Thematically, the fact that she can communicate with dragon type pokemon has the potential to set her up as a foil for N— both can talk with pokemon to varying degrees, but Iris grew up with the support of a village and later a mentor of her own, while N was basically groomed his entire life for a lie. And the writers… never did anything with that. So, without further ado, here’s the character essay I’ve compiled out of the scraps canon gave us, discarding the parts I don’t much care for.

The anime, as far as I can remember, doesn’t provide a backstory for why she can talk to dragons, so I’ve come up with my own. Pokemon the Movie: Secrets of the Jungle implies that the phenomenon of feral children exists in the pokemon world, and that, like any other language, pokespeech can be learned. Any child who is raised by pokemon from a young enough age will learn to speak with them, just as N did. But for Iris, that’s not the full story.

Her hometown, the village of dragons, is a small village in Unova that’s somewhat isolated due to not being near any major routes, and the culture reflects that. When Iris was just a baby, both of her parents died, leaving her orphaned, but the village stepped up and took care of her. She was raised thinking of the entire village as her family, people and pokemon alike, and learned to speak with both of them. At first, her caretakers thought it was a strange quirk that she claimed to know what their dragon pokemon were saying, but soon came to realize that she was a product of the Village of Dragons, and her abilities were very real. Something about her unusual socialization as a child had led her to pick up both languages, and the village elder declared her a link between humans and dragons, a sacred child, almost.

So, by the time she’s five, Iris is a very spirited child. She’s bright as hell, athletic, loves climbing trees, and calls everyone auntie and uncle and grandmother and cousin. She likes cute, frilly clothes, and likes to pretend she’s the princess of the dragon kingdom when she plays. She’s….not sure how to feel about her parents. Everyone says she’s such a poor child, for being orphaned at a young age, but she doesn’t even remember it. She doesn’t know how she’s supposed to grieve for a pair of strangers. Blood doesn’t mean much to her, not when the family who raised her isn’t blood, but… sometimes she wonders what her life would have been like if she’d known her parents. It’s a strange, quiet, confused sort of longing that she never really shares with anyone.

But then she’s sent off to school in Opelucid City, and her life changes. She hates it at public school. She’s nervous and doesn’t talk to anyone and can’t make friends, and everyone here is a stranger. She gets bullied a lot for her country accent and “weird” mannerisms, and doesn’t understand social cues very well. She writes letters home in class, and when she’s lonely, she goes out climbing on roofs. She wants to get to the highest place she can reach, the highest place her body will take her, so that all of her problems seem small and far away.

She’s trapped between two worlds, and she’s miserable.

One night, she ends up meeting Drayden, and tells him about how she feels. That she’s lonely and confused and none of the other kids like her. Drayden sympathizes; he’s very much autistic and couldn’t make friends as a kid because he doesn’t emote much, facially, unless he puts a lot of effort into masking. He was considered creepy and weird and standoffish and cold, and was drawn to ice types because he felt they were the same. Both of them didn’t emote much externally, but were so full of love and personality. Drayden sees the potential in this kid, and offers to take her on as his apprentice, and she gladly accepts.

And so begins the next phase of Iris’ life; she goes home with the news that she’s going to apprentice under the city’s gym leader, and the village wishes her well. The village elder, a woman she considers her grandmother, gives her an Axew egg, and she moves to Opelucid city with frequent visits back home.

It’s a bit messy at first, but honestly? Iris thrives under individual mentorship from somebody who gets it, at least some of it. Drayden starts teaching her a basic homeschool curriculum plus battling, city life and social skills, one neurodivergent to another. Iris has ADHD that went undiagnosed because her presentation was more internal hyperactivity, and Drayden is autistic and mostly struggles with communication, so there’s some overlap between them. He teaches her about infodumping versus small talk, how and when to code switch.

Previously, Iris had… done nothing but talk about dragons at people. And Drayden has to sit her down and explain that yes, her enthusiasm was valid, but there’s a time and place for everything. And she needed to slow down and listen to the other side of conversations sometimes, because people would approach her for small talk and she’d infodump. People would mistake her social ineptitude as being self absorbed, and react harshly. But at the same time, she needed some neurodivergent communication where she could just infodump and stim freely, and the other person could do the same.

She also had a, uh. Time adjusting to the grocery store. She grew up thinking haggling was the norm, and came off as very pushy to the poor cashiers. Drayden teaches her about the dangers of impulse shopping, how to compare prices, when to buy generic and when to buy brand name food. He’s still confused about how Iris can cook masterpieces without a recipe and it turns out delicious every time.

Iris still retains a lot of traits from her upbringing— she refers to people with familial terms, like calling Drayden uncle and the pokecenter nurse cousin. She’s thrifty, and can do basic hand sewing to extend the wear on her clothes, so she’ll mend socks and replace buttons without even being asked. Everyone did it growing up, man or woman, and she finds it funny that city folks don’t know how. She has a near uncanny ability to predict the weather better than any app, due to growing up in a largely agricultural community, and loves to go out dancing in the rain with her pokemon.

At some point, she begins to figure out her relationship to gender and sexuality— she discovers the word aromantic, and it just. Fits. She likes romance, she likes reading about it and watching it, but when she thinks about herself in a romantic relationship, she feels sick. That’s not where she belongs. That’s not what she wants. She realizes that, in hindsight, she used to fake crushes in the same way that she’d mask her neurodivergent traits, and she’s tired of it. She is aromantic and she is herself and she’s not going to compromise. She thinks she might be somewhere on the asexual spectrum, but isn’t entirely sure yet and isn’t too worried about it.

Her relationship to gender is a bit of a complicated one— she felt like people kept trying to pigeonhole her into a more masculine role because she was adventurous and outdoorsy, but that didn’t feel right, and neither did the idea of bland, traditional femininity. She identifies more with the idea of magical girls— she absolutely loves magical girl anime, and resonates strongly with the idea of looking pretty and kicking ass and having good friends. She looked at the idea of her interests being separated into feminine and masculine categories and rejected it entirely. Iris is a girl and proud of that; she likes pretty clothes and dragons and flying and climbing trees and doing her hair and none of these things cancel each other out.

She’s left Unova once in her life— Drayden offered to take her on vacation to Sinnoh, where she tried out a beginner rank super contest. She didn’t care much for the feel of the stage makeup or blinding lights, but she remembers how much she loved dancing onstage with her pokemon, how excited they both felt, how she looked in the mirror at her contest outfit and twirled and felt amazing. She still wants to pursue her dream of becoming a dragon master, but her contest experience was one she’ll always treasure.

After the events of Black and White, the region is in an uproar over who’s going to be the champion. N fucked off to who-knows-where, Hilbert/Hilda doesn’t want it, Alder feels no longer worthy, and the region is shaken. Drayden basically holds up Iris and says, “She can do it. She’s ready. There’s nothing left I can teach this girl.”

She’s scared and uncertain, but she does. Iris defeats Alder and Hilbert/Hilda both, back to back, and unequivocally wins the championship. She’s got a lot riding on her shoulders, but she’s got the support to deal with it, and a sick as fuck magical girl dress now.

After the events of BW2, she seeks out N. Pardons his crimes, as Champion, and says, “Hey, do you want to be my friend? I’m really interested in getting to know you better and I'm also kinda shit at social cues, so do you wanna go dragon riding together?"

She absolutely gets N's frustration at not being able to adapt to a "normal" life after what happened, and offers the idea that he doesn't need to learn to mask and be normal, but to be functional. Learn to do the best with what they've got, y’know?

Anyways. Tl;dr I love my weird little magical girl daughter and her dragons and she deserves the entire world.

#pokemon iris #gym leader iris #champion iris #pokeani #unova region #character analysis #meta #this is an iris appreciation zone

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violetlunette · 2 years

Note

Hi! I read through your blog and i find your analysis so interesting! Personally i like a lot of the characters you criticise and you definetly helped me figure out my mixed feelings or think of a new perspective. (this isnt a bad thing btw i like hearing your perspectives) (Like, i always liked Toga but her character was iffy to me and Shinsou i liked but you made me realise i like the potential of him more than his canon lol)

Anyways, sorry if this is a weird question but who are two characters who never (or very little) interacted in canon that you would like to see interact?

Personally i want Mr Compress and Monoma to interact.

Like i know theyre on opposite sides and have no reasons to but the two have some overlapping concepts. Mr Compress is descended from a phantom thief and Monoma calls himself Phantom Thief and theyre both crafty and sneaky character.

Does it make any sense? No. So i think they would get along? Absolutely not. Do i think it would be funny? Yes. Do I want them to eventually get along? Yes but they would be kicking and screaming.

Its purely self indulgent i admit. Sorry if its annoying but im interested if you have any characters you would also like to see together.

I’m glad to introduce new perspectives to others as that’s what I try to do here! I’m glad people like them! ^_^ And I don't self-indulgent stuff especially when it allows be to be as such. Anyway, Monoma and Compress would be interesting. Both do present themselves as thieves for the greater good and have out-there personalities. I have TONS of characters I wish interacted more. Below are a few off the top of my head but there’s not a lot of detail right now. (Maybe someday…)

Present Mic and Ochako; there’s a set-up for some good interaction as he obviously likes her a lot. No, really. I love Mic’s blatant favoritism with her and I think it would be nice for Ochako to have a personal cheerleader. They also have a lot in common by being the emotional support to underdogs they admire, being energetic, and having a focus on their careers.

Aizawa and Present Mic with Tsuyu; Tsuyu is my favorite candidate for the Maizawa Family child (along with Izuku). Tsuyu not only shares traits with Aizawa but Present Mic as well; All three share bluntness, and empathy, and take care of the ones they love. Tsuyu also shares Aizawa’s rational nature, Hizashi’s supportive nature, along with his ability to see the bigger picture. At first, Mic may be thrown off that he can’t read her expressions but over time he would be able to read her body language and realize her feelings easily. Tsuyu would take care of both the men, however, they never let her take too much upon herself (though it would be hypocritical all around). What Tsuyu has that neither don’t, however, is that she’s able to look at the bigger picture of things logically, whereas they focus more on the emotions of the people they love. Speaking of which;

Todoroki and Tsuyu; These may not show it, but they are very emotional people. They love and care for their friends and basically the mom and dad friends. However, where they differ is their morals. I think it would be interesting to see Todoroki’s ideology of, “screw it, I’m doing what’s best for my friends and family” vs Tsuyu’s “Even though it hurts me, I will put what's right and the well-being of the world above my emotional needs.”

Hizashi and All Might; Shipping thoughts aside, these two have a lot in common, and I believe Mic would be able to help All Might come out of his shell more and help him with understanding people more. (Remember, All Might had to keep to himself for years to keep his secret, so social interaction isn’t his strong suit.) Likewise, I think Mic could use emotional support that isn’t tsundere-ish all the time or snarky.

Midnight and Momo: Both share the fact that they are very secure in their bodies (perhaps a bit too much). It would be nice to show Midnight giving Ochako more confidence in herself as a leader (especially since the manga wants us to believe that’s the case). Also, these two are opposite enough to be interesting as a mentor and mentee, as Midnight is someone very comfortable with her sexuality, and Momo is an Inugene.

Six and Izuku; I’m going to do an entire post on this someday but I think these would be very interesting as enemies.

Knuckle Duster and All Might: Polar opposites, yet they share the fact that they started off as heroes but lost their powers which ended their careers. (I like comedic opportunities with All Might trying to hold Knuckle Duster back from punching someone.)

Makoto and Hizashi: Mic has a busy schedule and Makoto can organize it. That and I believe that she’s one of the few that could handle his energy as she has just as much. If nothing else, she would be a good manager to him.

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slaviclore · 3 years

Text

Hey folks, I have some thoughts that I’m going to share about my personal reactions to the war in Ukraine. I’m putting it under a tag in case you don’t want to hear about it, but I don’t expect that anything here is especially triggering.

I feel guilty because *everyone* is talking about the war, and I’m not, so maybe it seems like I don’t care or I’m not paying attention. I am, in fact, paying like a pathological amount of attention. So I offer you some insight here, and I apologize for being scarce, and I hope this will fix the guilt. To be clear, I fully recognize Russia as the aggressor in Ukraine, and I support the right of Ukrainians to sovereignty which includes joining alliances that they feel benefit them.

I grew up in the region of Poland that’s closest to Ukraine, not far from the border where most of the refugees from Ukraine are fleeing. I still have family that lives there, and I visit them, but I’ve lived in the US for many years. I’m fluent in Polish, which is almost exclusively the language spoken in my family. English is my highest proficiency language as I did most of my schooling in the US. I’ve been learning Russian for a couple of years. That’s my disclaimer. If you feel that I am too far from Eastern Europe to comment on the topic, I understand and I ask that you simply stop reading. If you’re offended by the fact that I am willingly learning Russian even though generations of my family were forced to learn it against their will, I understand that too, and you and my mom can be bffs about it.

It’s freaking me out to do my Russian lessons, which I’m fully aware makes no sense. I love the language. Many Ukrainians speak it. But all the content I’m learning from was made before the invasion, and it’s causing cognitive dissonance where I feel like it *must* be about the war, but it’s about like Christmas and COVID or something. The only study routine I’ve been able to keep is to listen to 2 episodes from a Russian language podcast that were published after the invasion because everything else sounds like it’s from another dimension. The publisher of the podcasts is in Moscow, ardently condemns Russian aggression in Ukraine, and he says he doesn’t know what will happen with his language teaching business or if he will be able to keep making the content. The other Russian teacher I buy lessons from lives in Ukraine and has emailed his students to tell us he and his family have thankfully safely made it to Poland. I really feel for them both.

I also feel for my family in Poland, who are ostensibly not worried about the war spilling over the border, but no one feels like they know anything for sure. One of my aunts lives alone on our family property, and there are still n*zi bullets in the wood of her barn. She’s kind of a hermit, and the idea of her having to leave that home is unthinkable to us. Pretty much everyone agrees she and the rest of my family are safe, and I hope that’s the case.

As you know, I normally post things on this blog that I hope help people share and enjoy various aspects of Slavic culture. I try to post from different nations, and I try to stick to fun, interesting and beautiful topics. Right now, I can’t really do that -- not because I don’t want to, but it just doesn’t feel right to me. I feel like I had a tooth pulled out, and every time I try to chew, it’s sensitive and raw. I fully expect to come back, hopefully soon. I really appreciate some of the Ukrainian artists who are religiously posting on social media this past week, everything from their emotions, to their art, to war content. It feels to me like they’re reaching for affirmation while their home and identity as a people are in mortal danger. I will share with you a thread I like from Twitter that highlights them.

So I apologize for not posting very much for now, and I hope you are all safe, and I hope Ukraine will have its peace back soon.

#syrenka tag

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dessarious · 3 years

Text

How the Sirens Adopted a Ladybug Pt5

AO3 Beginning Previous Next

They ate mostly in silence with Ladybug refusing to look at any of them. The Kwami were all cuddled up against her obviously trying to offer emotional support. Every time she managed to calm herself down Selina would look over at the girl and her rage would build up again. She was going to have to find an outlet for it in order to stay here.

“So why haven’t you asked for help from the European Justice League?” The full body flinch she got in response gave her a target for that rage. She mumbled something that Selina couldn’t hear. “What was that?”

“I don’t think they believed anything was happening. Eventually they just told me that if I couldn’t handle butterflies I shouldn’t consider myself a hero. They had real problems to deal with.” Oh she was definitely sicking Bruce on those idiots once she figured out what was going on. “In their defense once I cast my cure there’s no visible damage so unless one of them had been here during an attack it really doesn’t seem real.” Great, now she was making excuses for heroes who absolutely should know better.

“I don’t care what they thought, that’s unacceptable behavior. You mentioned something about others that were helping you?” She flinched and curled in on herself.

“You should tell them. Plagg’s right, I think they can help.” Most of the other Kwami looked surprised at Tikki’s words. Ladybug somehow just seemed to get smaller.

“Kiddo, the three of us are the last to judge, trust me. We just want to help.” Harley’s voice was gentle and the girl peeked at her before looking back at her hands. Plagg flew up to her shoulder and was whispering in her ear. Eventually she took a deep breath and pulled her knees into her chest.

“At first it was just Chat Noir and me. It was okay for a while. He was always goofing around and flirting but he was there. But things happened and he didn’t want there to be secrets even though it was for our own safety. The Guardian chose what information we got when and he trusted me more than he did Chat, especially the more he pushed. He let me choose temporary holders and that just pissed Chat off more. He started becoming unreliable. Not showing up to fights, spending patrols trying to convince me to reveal my identity. Then he revealed himself to the other holders and got them to do the same. I refused and he convinced the others that I wasn’t trustworthy. I had to take his Miraculous. Too many people knew who he was. After that I couldn’t use any of the others even if they had been willing and I didn’t know anyone else I could trust. Then the Guardian… he got sick and turned his responsibilities over to me. So now I use whichever Miraculous I need for any given battle.”

“And what about your living situation?” She shook her head but it seemed more like an automatic reaction than an answer.

“That could compromise my identity.” Plagg and Tikki both flew in front of her face with their arms crossed.

“You need to tell them. Keeping your identity from Chat and the others was necessary and as we’ve seen showed good instincts on your part, but this is different.” Tikki’s voice sounded encouraging but strained. Their worry was obvious.

“But-”

“No buts Kit.” Plagg pointed to Selina. “She’s one of mine and there’s no malice toward you in any of them. We’re done watching you suffer alone. Not to mention you haven’t had a chance to breathe in months let alone grieve properly.” Selina shared a confused look with the other two. Plagg referring to her as theirs was odd but she was more worried about the grieving comment. Tears welled in Ladybug’s eyes and she shook her head again.

“I can’t.” The words were choked and the rest of the Kwami cuddled further into the girl while Plagg and Tikki just looked at each other.

“Will you let us tell them?” She hunched in further on herself but before she could say anything Tikki let out a string of what sounded like curses. Selina had no idea what language it was in. “There’s an Akuma.” Ladybug let out a tired breath.

“What time is it?”

“School just started. Which one do you think it is this time?” Plagg’s snark just got annoyed noises from all the Kwami. Ladybug stood and started towards the window. “Kit you’re not transformed.”

“Oh right.” Tikki disappeared and there was another flash of light around the girl.

“Why don’t we go with you? I’d like to see exactly what’s going on.” She frowned in thought.

“If you want, but I need you to stay back and not interfere. It’s bad enough trying to keep the others out of harm's way and I really don’t have the energy to look after anyone else and still defeat the Akuma.” As soon as she said it she was out the window.

“What do you think she meant by others?” Harley sounded like she had a guess at the answer, but wanted someone to give her a different one.

“I have a bad feeling that her former help are still trying to pretend they’re heroes. That or they’re actively trying to sabotage her. Or possibly both.” Given what had been said about Chat Noir, she wouldn’t be surprised.

“We should head out and find a good vantage point.” Ivy was just staring out the window but it seemed like she was looking inward.

“I just need to grab my jacket. And for now we respect her wish for no interference, unless it’s a matter of life and death for her, agreed?” Harley and Ivy both gave a nod but neither looked happy about it. Ten minutes later, as they stood on a roof watching Ladybug taking hits for a bunch of idiots who wouldn’t leave the area, Selina wasn’t either. As soon as the fight was over they moved in closer to see what the morons had to say for themselves.

“Looking a bit ragged there M’Lady. Are you ready to admit you were wrong yet? All I want is an apology and a reveal and things can go back to the way they were.” Selina had to grab Harley to stop her from lunging at the boy who spoke but Ladybug shot him a flat look.

“Go back to what exactly? You refusing to respect my boundaries and throwing tantrums during a fight, or you just not showing up at all?” The boy sputtered indignantly and she turned to leave but a different one, the one who’d been possessed started yelling at her.

“Aren’t you even going to ask what upset me so much I got Akumatized? You used to actually care about people.” Ladybug just crossed her arms and waited. “Someone I thought was my friend just moved away without telling anyone! Can you believe that?” That just brought a confused look from the hero as she scanned the others assembled. For some reason that seemed to annoy the girl more. “Marinette! She just up and left without telling anyone!”

“I’m sorry, did you all just now notice she was gone?” Disbelief was the main thing in her tone, but there was hurt there as well.

“What do you mean just now? Don’t act like it’s our fault she decided to bail on her friends.” Ladybug was just staring at all of them like they’d lost their minds.

“Some friends considering it took you six months to notice she was missing in the first place.” There was a blonde girl leaning against a nearby building that Selina would swear wasn’t there a minute about.

“She’s not missing. Her parents sold their business and the family moved.” The blonde looked like she was going to fire back but Ladybug spoke first.

“Believe what you want, you always do. This is not something I’m going to stand here and argue about. I’m sorry you feel hurt but there’s nothing I can do to help the situation.” She tried to leave again.

“Wait!” The blond practically jogged up to her. “I need to speak with you, alone.” Ladybug hesitated. “Please, it’s important.” The hero searched the girls face for a moment before giving a small nod. The others immediately started shouting at her so she grabbed the other girl and headed to a nearby roof. They followed silently and Selina watched as they both stood awkwardly.

“So what do you need to talk to me about Chloe?” There was a wariness to Ladybug's tone and stance, almost like she expected to be yelled at or attacked. The other girl just seemed nervous.

“A couple things. You knew Marinette was missing, do you know where she is?” Ladybug’s entire body tensed up at the question and Chloe saw it. “I’m not asking you to tell me I just… I just want to know if she’s okay. The police are refusing to look for her, claiming she went to live with relatives out of the country even though her passport hasn’t been used, and she hasn’t touched her back accounts since the day after…” She trailed off, obviously not wanting to finish the thought.

“How do you know she hasn’t… you’ve been using your father’s accounts to check the police progress haven’t you?” She just gave a sheepish shrug. “Why? You hated Marinette.” Chloe flinched.

“No I didn’t. We were rivals sure, and I was overall a bitch yes, but I never hated her. We were just so different and… I mean you’ve met my parents. I was taught from a young age that I was above everyone else and that they should be grateful for my notice. Mari… I couldn’t understand for the longest time why she stood up to me. I know it sounds stupid and I can’t really explain it better.” She sounded frustrated but it actually seemed to calm Ladybug down for some reason. “Look, I understand why she wouldn’t want to come back to school. Those ungrateful peasants made her life a living hell, but it’s like she completely dropped off the face of the earth. I can’t even imagine what losing both her parents in an accident like that must have done to her.”

“She’s okay. She just didn’t want to be sent out of Paris, or put into the system.” It didn’t sound like a lie but Ladybug was refusing to look the other girl in the eye for some reason. Chloe was just frowning in thought.

“If you see her again… tell her I can help if she wants. I know I’m probably the last person she wants to deal with but if she needs a place to stay no questions asked, I’m offering. Daddy has a few judges that owe him favors as well so we can probably get her emancipated so she can at least get to her money without worrying about someone tracking her and putting her somewhere she doesn’t want to be.” Ladybug nodded but from her position Selina could see her fighting back tears. “The other thing I wanted to talk about…”

“Yes?” Chloe still hesitated. She looked worried.

“That comment Adrien made, about you looking ragged… he wasn’t wrong.” Ladybug curled in on herself and Chloe panicked. “I’m not say it as a criticism! Ever since those rejects abandoned you it’s obvious things have been getting worse. I don’t know what you home situation is like but it’s kind of obvious it’s less than great.”

“If you’re going to try and convince me to give you a Miraculous-”

“No! No, it’s nothing like that. I just… here.” She pushed something into the hero’s hand and Ladybug just looked at it in confusion.

“What…” Chloe cleared her throat nervously.

“I had part of my floor renovated into a sort of efficiency apartment. That key is to get in through the balcony. The door that leads to the rest of my suite has multiple locks, including bolts that go into the floor that can only be accessed from the inside.” Ladybug blinked at her, not seeming to process what the girl said. “It’s a safe place… if you need it.” There was a long pause then Ladybug lurched forward, pulling the other girl into a hug.

“Thank you.” The words were soft, almost inaudible, but the emotion behind them was heartbreaking.

AO3 Beginning Previous Next

Ko-Fi

Tags

@asrainterstellar @scorchdragon88 @arty-shadow-morningstar @toodaloo-kangaroo @solangelo252 @smolplantmum @jayjayspixiepop

#maribat #allthesalt #class salt #marinette dupain cheng #Selina Kyle #Harley Quinn #Poision Ivy #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois #Gotham Sirens #Mom Squad

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shadyteacup · 3 years

Note

Congrats on 300 followers! You really deserve it cuz you're so talented and amazing. Can I request a angst prompt 11 with dazai thank you ❤️

Hola amigo! Thanks sm :D

Here's some sad angst... n no, it doesn't have a fluffy end... :(

Osamu Dazai + “Tell me you don’t want to leave. Say I’m enough to make you stay. I know it’s not true, but please just say it.”

Warnings: Angst, strong language. || Word count: somewhere around 1600, ig..

Get Out

You were an observant person. You were pretty sharp and thoughtful. You weren’t dumb. In fact, you were smarter than the average John or Jane Doe. You never ignored any signs or forewarnings that your brain threw at you. You always reported if something seemed fishy. You have never ignored someone’s wrong doings before.

But then again, there’s a first time for everything.

Sighing, you opened the door for your boyfriend.

“Hey.”

You said as you turned around almost immediately, ignoring his smile. Walking inside, you sat back at your desk, resuming your work.

Dazai stepped in, confused and worried. He had a lot on his mind as of late. He had to maintain a perfect balance between home and work, and it was taking a toll on his wellbeing. He hoped it wasn’t affecting your mental state. Maybe seeing him depressed all the time was lowering your spirits? He dearly hoped that wasn’t the case, for he was trying really hard to relieve his stress before coming home. He tried his best to stay happy and come home with a smile.

He threw his coat on the couch, kicking his shoes off and getting himself a glass of water. He was tired and parched.

As he gulped down the heavenly liquid, he observed you from the corner of his eye. You were staring at the screen, hands frozen above the keyboard. You were thinking about something. It worried him. Your random zone out sessions made him question his behaviour. Was he being rude or mean to you? Was he the cause of your constant worry?

“Y/N?”, he called out to you, trying to get you to snap out of it.

You flinched slightly, peering at him through your lashes.

“Hmm?”

He walked over to hug you from behind, but you got up, effectively avoiding him.

“What’s wrong?”

He furrowed his brows, reaching out to grab onto your sleeve.

You froze at the contact.

“Why don’t you get changed? We can have dinner then.”

Dazai held onto you, determined to get an answer out of you.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Why are you ignoring me?”

“I ordered Thai food today. Its from that new restraint around the corner. Riddhi really recommends it.”

“Stop ignoring me. And who’s Riddhi?”

“My friend. You haven’t met her.”

You tried pulling out of his grasp, but he pulled you forward, holding onto both your arms, now.

“Look at me. Y/N.”

You sighed, avoiding his gaze.

“Why don’t you get changed? I’ve picked out a shirt for you. It’s on the bed.”

Dazai was fed up with your aloof behaviour. You had been acting strange and distant for weeks now. Everyday was the same. He would come home to you acting weird, you would ask him to change, and only then would you let him touch you. He was tired of this bullshit. He had tried asking you politely and patiently, but every time you evaded his questions. He was done with beating around the bush.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this? What the hell have I even done?!”

He shook you, trying to pry an answer from you.

“Answer me! Tell me! What is it? Whatever it is, I’m sure we can figure it out. But you must tell me first. You have to speak. Say something!”

You ignored him, looking down at the carpeted floor.

Dazai sighed, letting go of your arms.

“Do you even care about us?”, he asked you.

“Tell me you don’t want to leave. Say I’m enough to make you stay. I know it’s not true, but please just say it”.

You whispered.

Dazai stared at you, confused.

“Of course, you’re enough. Tell me if you care. Do you even love me?”

You stepped back, trying to control your emotions.

“You’re the one going around fucking others. Unlike you, I actually care, Dazai.”

You whispered, afraid to look him in the eye. It had been weeks since you had smelled that perfume on him. It was sweeter than his own but had a musky undertone to it. That, paired with the random marks all over his body, was enough to convince you that he was having an affair. He was smart; he had tried subduing the perfume by carrying his own cologne with him and reapplying it after the deed was done. Whoever he was with probably supported him, as they always bit near the marks you had left. Your marks and their marks coincided.

Only you knew which marks were fresh and which were old. They didn’t know this, and often nipped at partially healed skin, reviving the bruise and giving it a nasty purple hue. That was a clear indication.

What disgusted you is that the person Dazai was sleeping with knew that he was cheating on his partner, and was supporting him by playing along with his plans.

The extra hours were also a clear give away. You had even called Yosano and Kunikida to ensure that the agency had called it a day. Both of them had told you that everyone had left the office, while your boyfriend claimed to be in a client meeting with Kunikida.

It was laughable how incompetent he considered you to be. Did he really think his half assed attempts at covering up would fool you?

“What the hell are you saying-”

“Don’t act dumb. I’m not stupid, you know that.”

Dazai continued his act, hoping to prove you wrong by putting it all on you.

“I’m a loyal partner, Y/N. Just because I’ve been having more work load lately, doesn’t mean you go around assuming shit about me. I honestly thought you were better than this.”

You sighed, finally meeting his gaze.

The dead look in them proved to him that he was caught. He could not do anything to fool you. You knew.

“It started three weeks ago, on Monday. You went to work at eight, came home around eleven. Work hours end at 6. You were smelling different. It was distinct. You never wear perfumes that have a sweet undertone.”

You stared at him dead in the eye, shutting him up with your gaze. He would not dare to come up with stupid excuses. Not with you looking at him like that.

“You had a hickey on your neck, on a spot that I hadn’t covered. You tried covering it up with makeup, but it wore off pretty quick. Ever since then, you have been visiting your secret friend daily. I’m guessing you go at least three rounds, since you come home so tired.”

“That’s just disgusting!”

“I thought so too. But it does tire you, doesn’t it? That’s the reason you come home so worn out. You go around having sex, and you’ve been trying to hide it from me for three weeks now. Tell me I’m wrong.”

His lack of reaction and the look of guilt plastered all over his face was as loud as a confession.

“Whoever it is, is blonde.”

He looked at you shocked.

“How-”

“I found strands all over your coat.”

He rubbed his forehead with his palm.

“You like them, don’t you? Its not just physical, is it?”

You asked with a sad smile.

“How do you know all this?”, he asked, devastated at the fact that you knew everything going on.

“I know you too well. I actually paid attention to our relationship. I cared.”

He ran a hand through his messy locks. He had been so stressed lately, he had to find an outlet. He wasn’t one to stay in any relationship for long, but he actually cared about you. He hadn’t meant to hurt you, which is why is never broke up with you. He was bored of the thing you both shared, but he knew that you cared. So, he pretended to be equally invested.

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“Because I wanted to continue this thing for as long as I could. But not anymore. I’m done.”

He widened his eyes at you. He had not expected you to end this. He might have been bored, but he still cared for you. He loved you. He didn’t want to let go yet.

“Y/N, we can work this out. Please don’t leave.”

He begged you, trying to come closer to you. You stepped back.

“Please don’t. I can’t handle your smell. That scent repels me.”

He gasped, finally realising why you didn’t let him touch you.

“The perfume is a constant reminder of my...”

“Yeah.”

“And you tolerated all that, for so long. All for us.”

You nodded, turning away.

“But it doesn’t matter anymore. Thanks to your intense questioning, I’m finally free.”

“It doesn’t have to end, Y/N! We can work this out!”

“No, we can’t. I’m not enough for your boredom, and I’m not willing to become someone else just to please you.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, please don’t- ”

You smiled bitterly at him, before opening the door of your apartment, signalling to him.

“Get out, and only come back to get your stuff. Goodbye, Osamu.”

This story features one of my close friends, Riddhi. I had fallen short of names to use n though why not write about an actual friend? She's not on tumblr, unfortunately. Damn I miss going out with her... anyways, hope u liked it! N sorry for the rant :p

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starlit-scarlet · 3 years

Text

Stress

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

This is a somewhat self-indulgent fic I decided to write this morning. Levi gets to comfort reader who's stressed out from school and an internship. Always such fun :) haha

Another long day of school, followed by hours at your internship where you got the thrill of doing all the work and reaping none of the benefits, and you finally staggered into your home, the sun having set below the horizon hours ago. Shutting the door closed behind you— metaphorically shutting away the day— you pressed your back against the door, eyes fluttering shut as you desperately tried to will away the migraine you could feel coming on at the base of your skull.

Fuck, could this day get any worse?

Tears pricked at the back of your eyelids, long having since wondered if any of this was even worth it at this point. Half the time you thought you’d made the wrong choices, picked the wrong path, yet here you were, continuing to truck along, because that was what you were supposed to do. Without having realized, the purse you’d been holding had slipped from your hand to land with a gentle thump on the floor.

The memory of the day flickered across your mind, remembering all the ways you’d apparently screwed up, your asshole of a supervisor never hesitating to remind you of that. Yet she always seemed to forget the way you made sure her files were always neatly organized in the proper drawers, the way you were always on time, never late, always willing to stay late when she needed you. The way your notes were careful and methodical, documenting as much of her time spent with clients as possible.

No. None of that she gave a shit about. She simply seemed hell-bent on pointing out each and every blunder you made.

‘You fucked up big time with that client. How you've gotten this far in your career and education, I haven't a clue. Go get me some coffee. Maybe that, you won’t screw up.’

It wasn’t that you minded criticism. No. You welcomed it. But there was a difference between constructive criticism meant to help you improve, and criticism meant to tear you down.

And you were doing all of this for an overpriced piece of paper that you weren’t even sure was worth it anymore.

Is this something I even want to do anymore?

Sighing, you pushed yourself off the door, wincing at the pull of your back. Sitting all day with shitty posture put a strain on your back, and it had you rubbing at the muscles as you made your way into your tiny kitchen. More tears flooded into your eyes at the sight sitting before you in the warm, dim light of the room.

There at the table was a steaming hot plate of your favorite dish, and you can’t help but drool at the sight of the bowtie pasta topped with the bolognese sauce. It was a meal that always brought you comfort, it having been the first thing he’d made you on that first date so long ago. Beside it, a simple glass of freshly squeezed lemonade, a couple of aspirin, and one of his notes he often left sitting around for you to find.

Oh, how that glorious man spoiled you to no end.

You picked up the note and unfolded it, a few tears trickling down your cheeks at the words.

‘Hey, don’t forget I love you.’

Sniffling, a weak, watery laugh spilled out of you at the simple little note. He may not be one for grand gestures and words of poetry, but fuck, the things he did had your heart pitter-pattering in your chest. As if you could ever forget. The man may be shit at verbalizing his emotions, but each and every day he made sure he showed you in some way that he loved you.

Making sure you had at least one hot, home-cooked meal a day, knowing the rest of your day was spent grabbing whatever was fastest.

Doing your laundry for you when you were bogged down with assignments for school, with work your supervisor forced you to take home to finish.

Taking you to your favorite spots on days where you had a little free time, the ones that held the most cherished memories for you.

Hugging you.

Kissing you.

Letting you cuddle up against him on the couch.

The fact that he did any of that even though he was also busy with his own job as a software engineer, was something so heartwarming, something only a man like Levi would do. His position was demanding, full of responsibilities, but he always made sure he made time for you, to take care of you.

Hearing a noise coming from the hall, you spun on your heel to watch as he entered the kitchen, your eyes filling with adoration for the stoic man stepping through the entryway. It stumped you sometimes, the way you’d been able to capture his heart, to break through the walls that had been erected around him, finally finding that soft and sweet interior you knew had existed.

He paused mid-step when he glanced up from his phone— most likely checking for messages from you— eyes widening when he realized you were already there.

“Oh you’re back already? Damn, I thought you were going to be a bit later. The soufflé isn’t quite done yet, but—”

The rest of his words are cut off as his breath huffed out of him at the force of you slamming into him, wrapping your arms tight around him. Burying your face into his neck, the trembles hit your body before you can stop them, breath hitching at the way his arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you close against him.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m right here.”

See, that right there was another way of him reminding you he loved you. Simply telling you that he was there for you never failed to have your heart flipping in your chest the way it did in that moment. His voice might be gruff, but the underlying tones of affection were there, and only ever for you, and it had another shudder hitting you.

As always, he held you without resistance, for as long as you needed, another way he showed you. It had taken you time to learn to speak the language of Levi Ackerman, but now? Now you knew, and you read him with ease, could pick up each and every nuance, each twitch of his brow, the quirks of his lips, everything he did that was a clue to what he felt and thought. His heart was held in the palms of your hands, in the most delicate of ways, just as yours was with him.

He pulled back a touch to kiss the top of your head, tucking his knuckles beneath your chin to draw your gaze to his, and swiping away stray tears with his thumb.

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up and changed while I finish up in here?”

Nodding you leaned up to peck at his lips before making your way into your bedroom, stripping yourself of your clothes and tossing them into the hamper, your shoes placed neatly on the rack in the closet before changing into some comfy clothes and thick socks. Almost immediately, you felt a weight lift off of you, just from the simple act of removing the fabric you’d worn for the day, as if you’d been removing the events of the day with them.

Throwing your hair into a quick braid, you scurried back out, the smell of the food drawing a fierce rumble from your stomach. When you tried to help him finish, he waved you off, telling you to sit down and relax.

That’s how it usually went with him. He refused help when he sensed your day had been rougher than normal, no matter how much you insisted, not until he felt that you were at ease, relaxed, and taken care of. So you relented, settling in at the table, ravishly digging into the meal, slowly feeling more and more at ease. He sat in the chair next to yours with his own plate of food, and for several moments, the only sounds filling the room were the clinking of forks against the plates.

That was something else special about Levi. He always waited for you to eat, wanting at least one meal where the two of you could spend time together, enjoy each other’s company. It didn’t matter the time. Early afternoon, late evening, early night, no. He didn’t care at all, so long as you ate together. Another reminder of how much he cared for you.

When you’d finished, you leaned back in your chair, a satisfied smile filling your face at how his simple care had made you feel better, the aspirin not even needed as the headache faded on its own. Not having realized your eyes had fluttered closed, you started when he took your hand in his, linking your fingers together. You turned your head to meet his eyes, and your heart flipped in your chest at the affection you see in his, the dim kitchen light making his hair appear darker, and you couldn't help the way your free hand combed through the bangs flopping over his forehead, moving to cup the side of his face.

“You don’t have to do this, you know?”

Without even needing clarification, you knew what he was referring to. It was something he reminded you of regularly, reminding you that he would support you no matter what, that you didn’t have to continue on if you no longer wanted, that you would both figure things out together. You don’t know what you’d done to deserve him, but like hell would you ever let him go.

Tears prick your eyes once more, though gentler this time, and not from the stress of the day. “I know, baby...I want to do this.”

Because at the end of the day, this was something you truly wanted for yourself. You wanted to be able to look back and say, I kept going, and I finished. Even if it wasn’t the right path for you, you wanted the satisfaction that came with that overpriced piece of paper.

And that was all the reassurance he needed as he leaned in to graze his lips across your forehead, drawing a content sigh from you. He was your rock, and he was all you needed to make it through each and every day.

Timed perfectly, he pulled the soufflés out of the oven, setting them down in front of the both of you. His is a tart lemon, yours is a decadent chocolate and you can’t help but moan in delight at the richness that hits your taste buds as you devour the desert. Enjoying each other’s company, the two of you sit in companionable silence as you enjoy the delicious dessert he’d made.

Once finished, he rose to clear away the dishes, though this time you insist on helping, refusing to take ‘no’ for an answer. Sensing that you were more relaxed, he relented, the chore passing by faster with the two of you working together...him washing and you drying of course.

With the dishes out of the way, the two of you were free to end the night in the way you both enjoyed best, cuddling on the couch with your legs swung over his lap, his arm around your shoulders holding you close. As he always did, he’d tossed a throw blanket over the two of you before flicking on the tv, selecting the next episode of the latest tv show you were indulging in together.

It was the perfect end to a shitty day, one that helped you keep going.

Back to Fluff/Comfort Menu

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #soft levi #one shot #fluff #modern au

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aomineavenue · 3 years

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Summary: Six years ago, L/N Y/N wouldn’t exactly say that she loves her life. It had always been problematic but her best friend, Miya Atsumu, since she was eight when she moved to Hyōgo, has always been there for her, and she wouldn’t change it for the world. However, things would always fall apart for her ever since, so she should have expected of such. Running away from her problems seemed like the easiest route to take at the time, so what happens when the past comes barging back into her life demanding answers? Will she be able to confront her demons?

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x f!Reader

Genre: Angst, ANGST I LOVE ANGST, a lil bit of fluff here and there.

Warnings: Language, etc.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except for the reader and my ideas. I do not claim any images used for content in this fic, everything goes out to their respective creators unless it is mentioned that it is mine.

Status: completed. | series masterlist

↩ at peace | dearest daddy

mia speaks!:

okay, wow. So it took awhile for us to get here and I apologize for that but we’re finally done with Homesick, wew. It’s been a challenge but I’m so happy and grateful for all the positivity you guys have been sharing with me. Also, thank you so much for your patience.

It’s been an emotional ride but we’re finally done. There may be a few short stories after this chapter but no promises. Hopefully I get the chance to though, I do want to be able to. But for now, if you guys have any requests for imagines/scenarios with this series, don’t be afraid to send them over!

Also, big thanks to @oii-sugasan and @sunshinesero for beta-reading this for me! I apologize if this chapter is any way lacking compared to the first nine chapters, it’s been awhile since I wrote anything so I hope this was a great way to end this series.

I love you guys so much, I’m so glad to be (sorta) back. I hope you guys enjoy this!

Time was a funny and fickle thing. Sometimes there was never enough of it, and other times it stretched out endlessly. It had been seven months since your life had once again made drastic changes. It often surprised you how time flew by so fast.

Seven months since your two precious boys had been introduced to the man that they now call their father. And well, seven months since you had been reunited with the love of your life. Sure, it had ups and downs, it wasn’t bound to be perfect since the two of you were your own person. It was inevitable for such different personalities to clash, it didn’t help when there were two children present, one of them being as handful as their own father.

Atsumu had shown that he was a doting father, despite only being a part of their lives for less than a year, he had put his new family as his top priority, wanting to make up for lost time. He would instantly drop anything and everything, sometimes even volleyball when he could for times when his family needed him. Not that his new family had been a burden since then, his sons and of course you, have been nothing but loving and supportive. Showing up to games to cheer him on and the twins attending his training to either join or just watch their father and new favorite uncles.

It had been a rollercoaster ride since it was officially announced that Atsumu was off the market and that he actually had sons. Some fans were supportive, believing the news and claiming that both the young twins were striking replicas of the volleyball player. And of course, there were fans that were against it, raging how you were nothing more than a money-grabbing harlot and that you had probably lied to Atsumu about the twins being his.

They were quickly shut down, of course, by not just fans but various people close to the volleyball setter who defended you without you even asking for it. You weren’t going to lie, that particular month filled with venomous words thrown your direction stressed you out but it was mostly because of your motherly instincts, wanting to keep your sons away from such unnecessary drama. You and Atsumu had decided to ignore the majority of the vile comments but seeing you so emotionally exhausted had only fueled the already tiny flame in Atsumu. He was quick to announce that he would no longer tolerate any form of slander towards his family and would handle things legally if anyone were to step out of line.

And by the next few weeks, the hate simmered and the stress that had engulfed you and Atsumu in its grip had vanished. All that was left that made you both worry was Atsuhiro’s health.

Fortunately, Atsuhiro’s sickness didn’t grow worse as time passed by since his first transfusion. If anything, the boy was healthier and it was very much evident in his features. The healthy glow returned to his skin, he was smiling more and had shown his usual energetic-self like before he had fallen ill. Atsumu on the other hand, much to Atsuhiro’s dismay, had started becoming such an overprotective father. It took a lot of begging from Atsuhiko for their father to spend the day outside of the protective bubble of your apartment.

It took time and patience from everyone’s side to get this far, and for Atsumu, (and of course, you) he didn’t mind it one bit. He had grown more mature, despite his twin brother’s disagreements, he not only took care of himself more but he had become a role model to his sons.

Not only that, but as his relationship with his sons grew stronger, the love the two of you had for each other only seemed to intensify as well. Sure, the two of you had ups and downs back then in your friendship but it was as if time and distance hadn’t kept the two of you apart. If anything, it was as if it made your bond stronger. Two best friends, reuniting and finally expressing their true desires, it was easy for the two of you to fall into a comfortable routine.

“Where are the boys of the hour? I’ve been wanting to see how good Hiko looks in my jersey!”

Bokuto interrupts your thoughts for a brief second before you return your focus to your duties of cutting up the vegetables in the kitchen. You can’t help but chuckle at the sour expression that graces Atsumu’s expression as he fills a tray of refreshments on one of the island counters. “Don’t remind me, Bo-kun.”

“You’re just jealous that your sons didn’t want to wear your jersey," he teases, a playful grin on his lips as he lifts himself off of the ground by his hands to sit on the counter.

The scowl on Atsumu's face only deepens at the reminder, "Get off the counter, Bo-kun. Don't be rude. Why don't you actually start to help and give out these refreshments to the guests?"

You watch in amusement as the two exchange their usual banter around the kitchen of your home in Hyogo. It was decided a week ago after Atsuhiro's second transfusion was a success, that the twins would celebrate their birthday back at Hyogo instead of having the guests cramp up in your small apartment in Kanagawa.

It was also then decided by your sons what theme they would be having for their birthday. It was traditional for the twins to have their birthdays themed depending on their current interest. Lately, since the two were very fixated on volleyball due to their new favorite uncles and of course, their father, it was decided that they would be having a volleyball themed birthday where the guests were required to wear their favorite player's jersey.

For a minute, your new friend Bokuto had been rather excited upon hearing the idea.

"So show up with our own jerseys? Great!"

And as for Atsumu, he was excited at the prospect of seeing his own sons wearing his jersey. That is, until his sons destroyed such dreams.

"Are the two of you really sure?" you hear Atsumu's voice echoing from the twins' bedroom throughout the walls of the apartment as you stepped inside, shutting the door behind you as you ventured further into the comforts of your home. “Like really? Those are your choices?”

You grew curious as you slipped out of your shoes and let your hair loose from its tight bun, wincing slightly from your tugging. There was a tinge of whininess dripping from Atsumu’s voice that you couldn’t help but wonder what the three of them were talking about. It wasn’t unusual for Atsumu to be around when you had to work on days where the boys came home from school or when they didn’t have school.

At most times, when Atsumu didn't have training, he would be the one taking care of the boys instead of your mother or Osamu. Majority of his free time away from volleyball was spent with his sons, wanting to make up for the time he had lost. And there wasn't a day where the young twins wouldn't ask about their father and if he was going to visit. It was as if they were scared one of them would disappear, wanting to spend the entirety of their lives together.

"Maybe we can go with superheroes this year!" Atsumu's voice grew louder as you reached the door to the room where they occupied. Leaning against the door's frame, your eyes land on the back of Atsumu's head as he's seated on the carpeted floor facing the twins who were playing with their action figures. A small grin curling upon your lips at the sight of Atsumu’s slightly dishevelled bleached hair.

Atsuhiro, who seems to have the ability to sense your presence, looks up from his toys and in an instant, his eyes widen happily. He was about to greet you but you quickly pressed your index finger against your lips to signal the little boy not to announce your presence just yet, wanting to see Atsuhiko and Atsumu's interaction. The smart little boy that he is, nods and returns to his toys.

"But daddy," Atsuhiko protests, his focus still on the action figures in his hands, "We did superheroes last year! I wanna wear Uncle Bo's jersey!"

You fight the urge to burst out into a fit of giggles as soon as you catch a glimpse of Atsumu slumping his shoulders dejectedly. Now you understand as to why he had his moppy voice on. "But don't you want to wear daddy's jersey for your birthday?"

"But daddy," Atsuhiko lets out a sigh, looking up at his father with a look that meant the little boy wasn't up for any arguments on the matter, "Uncle Bo is the best! So I wanna wear his jersey!"

You could have sworn you heard Atsumu whine, suddenly wishing you had decided to film this from the start. "But it will make daddy really happy if you wear his jersey!"

Atsuhiko shakes his head as he continues to play with his action figures, "But I want Uncle Bo and I to match!"

Atsumu sighs in defeat before turning his attention over to Atsuhiro, looking hopeful. "What about you, Hiro? Would you wear daddy's jersey?"

"No, daddy. I wanna wear Kageyama-san's jersey," he nods with a proud smile, "Wanna be just like him! He's so good!"

"But daddy's just as good a setter as Tobio-kun!" Atsumu cries out, throwing his hands up in the air, "betrayed by my own children. 'Samu isn't going to let me live this down."

This time, you let your presence be known by finally releasing a bubble of laughter. Atsuhiko instantly drops his action figures and rushes over with a happy squeal. Atsumu pivots his body, looking up at you with such a pitiful gaze as he juts his lower lips out ot a pout, "I want new children."

Needless to say, Atsumu had been pouty ever since and has been dreading today due to the reason that every single one of his friends had found out about it. He had tried a handful of times to change their minds, unfortunately, the young twins won't budge.

“It’s not my fault your kids like me better than you,” he huffs, folding his arms across his chest, “I am an ordinary ace after all!”

A scowl graces on Atsumu’s features which causes the other occupants in the room to chuckle in amusement. It wasn’t as if Atsumu didn’t like the idea of his sons becoming close to his teammates, but lately, it was getting harder for the setter to share. “Get your own children!”

“Ah, about that...” Bokuto trails off with a nervous chuckle which causes everyone to fall silent and look at him in curiosity, “I actually will be getting my own child soon, I think.”

“You think?” you ask with an arched brow, “You can’t just think you’re having a child, Bokuto-san.”

Atsumu interjects, “And aren’t you in love with that best friend of yours? What happened to never being with anyone else but her?”

He waves his hand in the air dismissively with a frown etched on his lips, “Well, I can’t exactly be with her when she just got married.”

“You are so getting your ear torn off by the management when this news gets out,” Atsumu snickers, which he earns a smack to his shoulder from you. “Ow!”

You narrow your gaze at your boyfriend, completely unamused with his behavior. “Don't be dramatic, I didn't hit you that hard!" Letting out a huff as you wipe your hands on the apron you were wearing, "You aren’t helping Bokuto, ‘Tsumu.”

His lips curl up to a cheeky grin at the sight of your expression. He leans forward to nuzzle his nose against your cheek, your cheeks growing warm from the public display of affection. His heart swells from your reaction to his gesture, murmuring teasingly, “Sorry, darling.”

“Please, don’t make me barf.” Osamu interrupts with his features scrunched up in distaste from the interaction between you and his brother.

Atsumu sticks his tongue out at his brother who returns the gesture with a shake of his head. His arm snakes around your waist to pull you closer to his side as he returns his attention over to his teammate, “Well, is the woman making you marry her?”

“Making you pay for child support?” Osamu quickly adds.

Atsumu quips with a chuckle, “Threatening to expose your sins?”

You interrupt the two with a glare towards them, “Stop ganging up on him!”

Bokuto lets out a laugh as he begins helping your mother set up the desserts onto one of the trays to bring outside to the guests, “Nothing like that, she’s pretty chill and we’ve gotten pretty close lately. So we’re going to co-parent.”

“That’s very mature of you, Bokuto-kun.” your mother compliments him with a smile before patting his back.

He feels his cheeks grow warm from the compliment, his heart swelling with pride. “Thank you.”

“Maybe you’ll end up falling for her anyway,” Osamu teases with a smirk playing on his lips, leaning against one of the kitchen counters.

He shakes his head at the idea as his brows knit together, “Jess and I won’t fall in love.”

“Jess?” Atsumu blinks at the familiar name before his eyes widens at the realization, releasing his grip from your waist, “Jess, that journalist that you showed around town when she first visited Japan?”

Bokuto nods with a smile gracing his features, “Yeah, she’s pretty cool.”

“Maybe you’ll learn to love her in your own way through your child,” you suggest with a shrug of your shoulders as you began untying the apron you were wearing upon realizing what time it was.

Atsumu shakes his head and responds before Bokuto could utter a single word, “No, no. That’s impossible. Bo-kun’s heart belongs to his best friend.”

“Stop teasing him,” you scold your boyfriend with a shake of your head, handing over the apron you successfully took off, “make yourself useful and help out here in the kitchen,"

"Bu—"

Cutting him off with a stern glare as you lift a tray from one of the kitchen counters and handing it over to Bokuto, a small smile gracing your lips, "Don't mind him, Bo. Can you bring these to the backyard and help out if anyone else needs help? I think Reiji needs a hand setting up the bouncy castle,"

Retrieving the tray from your hands, his eyes lighting up from the excitement, "bouncy castle, you say?"

"That's for the kids, Bo-kun." Atsumu scoffs but soon lets his lips form into a pout when he had been ignored, turning his attention over to you once Bokuto slips out of the kitchen, "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to check on the boys to see if they're ready for their big entrance," you muse with an amused grin. Of course, you knew what your sons had prepared for the big entrance that they insisted. Atsumu had pestered both you and the young twins since he had heard of their plan but as your sons refused to budge, you had feigned clueless, claiming that your sons had opted it to be a surprise.

Little did Atsumu know that you had helped your sons pull off such an idea.

"I don't get why they have to have a big entrance," he sighs, brows furrowing as he racks through his thoughts on what the surprise could be. It didn't help that he was both curious and excited at what his sons might pull off.

Osamu lets out a snort, rolling his eyes at his twin brother as a smirk curls upon his lips, "What do you mean? They're your kids."

"What does that even mean?" Atsumu scowls as he slips on the apron you had handed over, walking over to where your mother was situated to take over what you were doing.

You shake your head at the two bickering older twins and shoot a look of sympathy towards your mother that was going to be left with them in the kitchen before she waves you off. Your heart was swelling from happiness at how natural everything felt, despite the silly banter thrown around. It was home.

As you step into your childhood living room, you're hit with a nostalgic wave from the memories surrounding the whole area. Though it may be a mixture of good and bad memories, since you had come to terms that you were no longer running away from your past, you only feel comfort. You made your way through your childhood home over to the bedroom that had been renovated to the liking of your twin boys.

The mere thought of your boys growing to love the place where you had grown up yourself was enough to bring a smile to your face. You press your knuckles against the wooden door to signal your presence by knocking on it repeatedly, “Are you two ready?” you ask, your voice probably muffled on the other side. Your fingers wrap around the handle of the door and as you were about to twist and push it open, the door instantly snaps back shut with a loud thud. “Can’t-”

“No, mommy!” Atsuhiko screeched causing you to blink from both the surprised force and tone. Pressing your palms and ear against the door to hear what the commotion was all about, you frown upon hearing only their shuffling feet, “What are you two doing? Guests have arrived and your party will be starting soon,”

“We’re almost ready, mommy!” Atsuhiro assures you from the other side.

A chuckle escapes your lips at their antics as you decide to not interfere any further, “Alright you two, just be sure to be out in a few. You don’t want your daddy to come fetch you. It’ll ruin the surprise.”

“Okay mommy!” you heard Atsuhiko yell out, their excited muffled voices purely obvious from the other side that you couldn’t help but smile.

On the other hand, back in the kitchen, the father of your twins was having his own little dilemma back in the kitchen. It wasn’t as if he was uncomfortable being around your mother, but it was more like he felt he was still lacking.

Despite him knowing that your mother and you hadn’t had the greatest relationship when your father passed away, he still wanted to be someone your mother would approve of. He didn’t know whether your mother knew the whole story of the relationship between the two of you but being away from you and your sons during most of their childhood was enough to make him worry. The mere idea of his sons looking up to him sent his heart soaring, but of course, he also wanted your mother to feel secure enough for him to be together with you and the twins.

“I’ll bring out these sliced up fruits outside,” Osamu cuts the clear tension surrounding the kitchen. Atsumu resists the urge to glare at his twin for leaving him behind with your mother, knowing full well that his brother knows his current insecurities. A small smirk graces Osamu’s features but not the obvious one that would make your mother notice.

Atsumu watches his twin slip out of the kitchen with a tray full of food for the guests before flickering his gaze over to your mother situated at the other side of the room, making final touches to the cupcakes. “Is there anything else that I can do?”

Without looking up, a smile etches on your mother’s face. “No, it’s fine. We’re just about done with everything.”

“It looks good,” he states with a nod of his head, not really knowing what to say.

Placing the piping bag to the side, your mother lifts her head up to look towards the direction of Atsumu and wipes her hands on the apron she’s currently wearing, “You know you can always start calling me mom.”

The mere sentence made Atsumu want to leap in excitement, but at the same time he was nervous, a sudden fear of messing things up engulfing him. “I don’t want to overste-”

“Oh please,” your mother waves her hand in the air with a light chuckle, “I’ve known you since you were eight. We’re practically family. So you might as well call me mom.”

Atsumu couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth tug up to a wide smile, “Alright, mom.”

“I’m really happy that the two of you decided to work things out,” your mother spoke with a smile as she delicately places the cupcakes on the cupcake stand.”

His feet shuffled across the room to help your mother stack the cupcakes onto the stand, “We had to for the kids anyway.”

Your mother hums in thought for a second before responding, “I think the kids were just the push the two of you needed. If anything, I’ve always thought the two of you would always end up together since the two of you always leaned on each other for anything.”

He nods his head slowly, leaning against the counter as he feels his heart swell with happiness. “I guess you’re right, mom. I did lean on her majority of the time when we were growing up. I guess I still am now. I just wish I could make her happy.”

“Don’t worry, you do. Before she left Hyogo, I know for a fact that she was miserable in this house after her dad had passed. You were the only one giving her a reason to move forward,” your mother spoke, sadness dripping from her voice.

A sigh escapes Atsumu’s lips as his features scrunch up to something that resembles pain. “I was also the reason why she left. I may be even the biggest reason why she left.”

Your mother extends an arm out and places a hand on Atsumu’s arm, trying her best to give assurance and comfort, “You weren’t the only reason behind that. I don’t know if she’s told you, but I had neglected her. I’m not proud of it and apologies are probably never enough for forgiveness. I was barely a mother when my husband had passed. I was almost an empty shell and instead of being a moth-”

“Mom,” Atsumu cuts her off and grabs hold of her hand in his own, “Don’t blame yourself. She loves you very much. It’s all in the past. We’ll be able to move forward, we already are.”

The two were interrupted with Osamu’s arrival, knocking by the kitchen’s door frame to announce his return. A smile etched on his lips at the scene before him, “Hey, Y/N wants everyone in the living room. Apparently the boys are ready to make their big entrance.”

Your mother excuses herself as soon as she removes the apron tied around her, excitement clearly evident in her features. Atsumu knew it well, despite the relationship that you had been slowly rebuilding with your mother, she was just as excited as him to have the twins into her life. She has equally doted on, if not more, on the twins ever since and well, Atsumu wouldn’t have it any other way.

Atsumu knew for a fact that you adored the time you’ve been sharing with your mother. As long as you were happy, nothing else mattered.

Osamu gives him a pat on the back, arching a brow in curiosity as they make their way out of the kitchen, “Everything alright?”

Atsumu gives him a nod, giving him the largest grin that he could muster. “Yeah, definitely.”

“You look disgusting,” Osamu jokes, pretending to shudder which causes Atsumu to give him a shove as they step into the living room where most of the guests have already gathered.

“Hey ‘tsumu!” Bokuto calls out from next to you as soon as Atsumu comes into view. “Hurry up! I’m excited to see Hiko in my jersey!”

Atsumu rolls his eyes as he approaches, grumbling to himself. As soon as he reaches your side, he places a quick kiss to your temple before snaking an arm around your waist to pull you closer. “Yeah, yeah. You have to stop rubbing it in. We get it.”

You couldn’t help but let a laugh escape your lips as you lean yourself into Atsumu’s warmth, “Oh come on now you two, focus on the big entrance will you?”

Bokuto just snickers from the side while Atsumu sends him a glare. If you were to describe the two of them, they were practically acting like petty children but you know those two will eventually switch attitudes as soon as your twins step out to make their entrance.

You flicker your gaze over to Osamu who was situated a few steps ahead from your little group, trying his best to act natural with his phone up. The two of you had discussed prior to the party that he would be the one to film the whole thing going on. Your little boys had practically begged their uncle to film their big entrance but mostly, what you hoped Osamu to capture was Atsumu’s reaction.

A part of you expects that he would be a grinning mess at the sight of his kids but also, you’re also hoping he’d be speechless from all the teasing his kids put him through of having to wear someone else’s jersey.

“What’s taking them so long?” Atsumu asks, tilting his head slightly hoping to meet your eyes as his fingers play with the hem of your shirt.

As you were about to answer him, the familiar voices of your two boys echo throughout the room from the top of the stairs. You didn’t even have to look to know about their surprise since you know very well of what they had planned. Well, obviously, you had helped them out with picking up the jerseys that they were going to wear.

However, you had wanted to capture Atsumu’s reaction to your boys with your own two eyes instead of just watching it from a video. And honestly speaking, you didn’t think you’d fall in love with this man any more than you already do but here you are.

Just the mere sight of his features scrunching up to a look of awe was enough for your heart to swell. It looked as if he was close to tears as watches the twins descend the stairs with the prodest smiles they could muster.

You pry yourself away from his side as soon as the twins approach Atsumu, knowing full well what was going to happen as they had practiced what they were going to say. Flickering your gaze over to Atsuhiko and Atsuhiro, seeing them in Atsumu’s high school volleyball jersey made your own eyes water despite the fact that you were the ones who had gotten them the uniform a week ago.

“Wh-What are you guys wearing?” Atsumu almost chokes out his words, “What happened to the jerseys that we bought that you said you were going to wear?”

Atsuhiko throws his arms out in the air, smiling widely. “We changed daddy!”

“We wanna wear your jersey daddy,” Atushiro nods his head enthusiastically, lifting his hand up to grip onto Atsumu’s shirt.

Atsuhiko wraps his arms around Atsumu’s waist, “‘cause you’re our favorite volleyball player daddy!”

The scene itself was enough for everyone to watch in awe, a few of the guests that were invited had their own phones up to capture the moment with smiles on their faces, the others were almost practically in tears themselves, and well there was also Bokuto by the side with his pouty self at the realization that neither of his nephews were wearing his jersey like he thought they would. Atsumu on the other hand, had eventually dropped down to his knees and wrapped his arms around his two boys, burying his face in between them as he let out his own tears stream down his face from the overwhelming joy that coursed through him.

Yes, this is your family.

This is your home.

You stare out the window from the kitchen of your childhood home, a smile on your face at the beautiful afternoon of your backyard full with people you adore and have missed so much.

The party was still in full swing despite the sun about to set, the laughter from the guests and a few children present rang in the air. Happiness had engulfed your heart and honestly, you had trouble believing it yourself but here you were.

You wouldn’t trade this for anything.

An arm snakes around your waist from behind and you would have been startled if you hadn’t felt Atsumu’s presence a minute ago. Despite not having seen each other in years, everything about him was still familiar. Sure, there were a few things about him that you didn’t know but that didn’t mean that he still wasn’t your Atsumu that you’ve grown to love.

“Thank you,” he whispers as he nuzzles his nose into your hair, a smile playing on his lips.

You place your hands atop of his and lean yourself back into his warmth, your brows furrowing in confusion. “What are you thanking me for?”

“For everything,” he lets out a sigh, causing a shiver to run down your spine from the heat radiating from his breath close to your ear, “For giving me two amazing boys and for existing yourself.”

Pivoting your body around so that you were facing Atsumu, your hands settling on his chest as you look up at him with your lips curling up to an assuring smile, “Thank you.”

“And what for?” Atsumu questions, matching your own smile with his own as his hands cup your face. He lowers his head slowly, nudging your nose with his own as the pads of his thumbs brush delicately against your skin.

Heat spreads across your cheeks at his gestures, feeling shy yourself but despite that, the majority of what you felt was only comfort in being in his arms. “For loving me as much as I love you.”

He hums in response, placing a quick kiss to your lips. “No, I probably do love you more. More than you can imagine.”

Before you could respond, he places his lips back firmly on yours and your eyelids flutter shut as if on instinct. The hands of yours that were resting on his chest eventually found their way around his torso to pull him close. Tilting your head to the side, the kiss itself deepens as he runs his fingers through your hair.

It just felt so natural being with him.

Before the kiss could grow more heated however, a loud yell from outside had interrupted the both of you causing you to pull away much to both of your dismay. Your heads turn towards the direction of the commotion, the bouncy castle coming into view.

Or rather, the depleting bouncy castle with Bokuto and Hinata coming out hastily in laughter.

You shake your head at the scene, a bubble of laughter leaving your lips before turning your head back over to look at the man before you. Just when you had decided to pull back and return to your duties of being a mother, he wraps his arms back around your waist to pull you back against him. Another laugh escapes your lips as you playfully slap his chest, “What now? We have a party going on, we have to entertain our gue-”

“Move in with me,” he interrupts, his features showing nothing but seriousness.

You meet his sincere gaze with your own and your heart makes a leap out of joy. There was only one answer you could possibly give.

“Yes.”

#atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya imagine #atsumu miya #homesick #atsumu miya smau

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Text

Love Brings Patience.

A/N: Just an angsty "3am thoughts and listening to hozier while doing" it blurb. Enjoy!! ♡♡

It thunders outside loudly, but she didn’t flinch. The mass of blues and viridescent ivory painting the sky -- a call for rain, as when there’s blessed pour of shower after every winter sick – but it’s monsoon —- there’s none of the sympathy that these boofy clouds could slip into Y/N's pocket as she lays on her bed watching through the glass roof of the home ... they built together.

With so much, love, trust, faith and passion for eachother that anything in the world was unable to come between them – until it did.

Pinning against them and keeping them apart.

Everything will be okay, in the end. It’s not okay. It’s not the end.

It’s just beginning. Beginning to suffer alone and without him, his emotional and physical support, his cheery smile that’d race her heartbeat like chariots of Hades and his gentle need to saturate the distances between them wherever they’re, his loving gleamy eyes never skimming past her and he'd dot soft grateful kisses to her raspberry cheeks and kiss her temple as if she’s the goddess that resides in his home and it’d be a sin not to cherish her.

He loves too much. He did. He does. He loved her beyond everything that it killed him, he was sobbing that night – drenching the lilac carpeted floor with the water droplets dripping down and Y/N wasn’t sure if it was the roar of lightening against the creaky windows of their home or the feebleness of his voice that sobered her into dust.

“Been hurtin' ye'fo’ years .. by being away from you fo' months and coming back to just give y'memories and hopes for me early arrival —-.. what .. -- what kinda lover does that?” He hiccupped. His wet fringes didn’t let Y/N fetch him and dip her hand in his soul to touch it and tell him where he belongs, he always belonged to her – and your path is always destined to ones, who you belong to.

“-- ... makes ye' -m..m—makes you wait and takes the test of yer patience, like you’re not human –...” But, this isn’t what love brings? Wait and patience and sacrifice —- the yearn to have the love of your life in your embrace while you pace through the alleyway of airports.

Love brings patience.

“... darlin’ ye' deserve the same warmth of a body, same attention and love that everyone out there’s getting ..” His sniffles sharp and breathless as he pointed out the window to indicate the world and she doesn’t know how in just one night he became so silly, because her world is him — only him.

Her whisper came out broken, “And what about you?” Her caring question for him made him push the heels of his palms to his sockets and rub the stubborn fat tears away.

“It’s hurtin’ me to. Makes me not breath at nights, stayin' away from you -- ‘m never focusin’ –- ‘s just you, Always you in the pocket of me heart – the back of my mind —-- can’t escape it. My stupid stupid heart tries to see you in strangers faces ‘n —--... my arms pulls at cold sheets to get to your warmth but it never comes, whatever I do.” His chest tightened and it’s repeating the same shortness of breaths he used to get while crying to himself in those hotel rooms, the puffy lips gasping for oxygen and Y/N' was rushing towards him grabbing his jaw to inspect him but he’s slip shutting his eyes and gesturing her he’s okay.

Murmured sadly, “And lovie’ it hurts.” So, loving her hurts him? What kind of love is that? A piece of failure when it should be what they tell in fairy tales.

She failed him.

She was shuddering letting his hand slip from her sweaty palms when he stood up with a worn out sad face, head hung down with the burden of guilt and selfishness.

“I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.” She was on her knees. Lips wobbled glum. She tugged on the bottom of his trousers crying dolefully without any word.

“Not wanting to hurt me by hurtin’ me more?” She cried hugging his leg and not letting it go.

His bestowed assertion made her shudder as he stepped away and to side, “I don’t w'na hurt us anymore.” His heart cracked and promised to him that it'll never heal up how much he'd beg later.

He was crying into his wrist leaving their apartment. Closing his ears with his palms to shut down the loud reckless sobs that echoed till hallway.

That cruel summer night still haunts her every moment and it’s been two weeks, and she wishes that he'll come running towards where she’s shrinking into the bed and jump over her as he used to —-- covering the little distance from the kitchen towards the bed and always made them bounce with the glee of his soft giggles.

How merciless could he be?

Leaving her alone in their home, where every piece of furniture holds his memory; the pink vinyl that’d play their favourite French songs, the squared tiles of their kitchen walls that he wrote different recipes over, the glassed roof through which they'd moon gaze snuggled into eachother and he'd be more happy to stroke her skin and love on the softness of it rather than the twinkle of stars – because he does it when he misses her, not when she’s right in his arms kissing his cheeks to happy affection, his cat who’s homesick because her momma is there or not – it’s not a much difference.

Everything is just ghosts of his memories making the edges of her heart bleed and cracking them dry.

She misses him. She misses him terribly and no day goes by without his thought swimming and tickling her mind.

Telephone rings. It keeps on ringing and she ignores it closing her eyes and tries to surrender herself to darkness of sleep, but then it kept on cutting through the tranquillity of their home and she’s plucking the yellow receiver and speaking something – embarrassed when her voice doesn’t even reach herself.

There’s loud annoyed groaning, vigorous disturbance and a high pitched squeaks before Mitch's monotone voice startles Y/N, “Can you please take him home? He's proper waffled .. broke his —-.. Harry! Can you sit down? Christ. Look you’re looking like a clown in front of all these nurses —-- Y/N?” He sighs and Y/N turns the curly wire around her finger out of anxiousness.

Fidgety on the tips of her toes.

“Where are you? Nurses? Broke? Is Harry okay? Tell me Mitch what’s happening!!?” She’s yelling into the receiver snatching the notepad when Mitch mutters grumpily, “Harry’s in hospital.”

Her heart drops to floor at that and she stares at her feet letting it sink before blinking the tears away and asking him for locations.

The time she reaches it starts raining and she covers herself with the cardigan she sneaked from his wardrobe to feel his presence, his scent and his brush of touch to her skin.

When she’s stumbling inside the rushy lobby filled with people waiting for their turn and her blurry gaze moves in every direction to find Harry sitting on the steel benches, wearing loose tailored curdory trousers and a baby blue sweater she knitted him as a gift for his birthday.

His apple-ish cheeks rosy and his button of nose scrunching up as he sits clumsily on the bench, poking Mitch's bum every other second to laugh at some kid who has his hand struck in a pot.

His own wrist bandaged up and around his neck, his pupils glassy foam and his condition dishevelled and ruffled up. It tears her up and she breathes in a sniffle – wiping her nose and padding towards him.

When his eyes rakes up a huge dimply smile is adorning his weary features and he’s waving her with limpy fingers shyly.

He’s drunk, drunk.

He pouts cherry-ly. Brows flinching together and he position himself straighter with Mitch's help when he takes in the dampness of her cheeks, “Why’re y'cryin' lovie’?” Darn that pet name. He slurs and his words mumbish.

“You’re hurt...” She points at his wrist. He looks down as it isn’t obvious and Mitch rolls his eyes, “Not hurt.” He shakes his head and when looks back up he’s grinning.

“Was just takin' hugeee steps downstairs -- ye'know me clumsiness and it’s kinda Mitchy's fault too ... told him to grab me tightly —-... ‘cos ‘m sensitive lil petal —--...” Y/N's biting down a snort at his squeaky high pitched voice and Mitch’s cutting him with thin smile.

“Been biting my ears off about you. How was I supposed to keep my balance when he clings to me so hard as if I’m summat his lover....” Y/N's eyes widen when Mitch grabs Harry from armpits and slinks his one arm around Y/N's shoulder as if Harry’s some parcel and he didn’t like it.

“Take him, home.” He mumbles and she stutters, “Wait ... hey! How? Mitch come back you mummy head.” She calls for him but he just walks away and Y/N’s left with no option but to take Harry with her.

“Be careful.” She whispers walking down the slope at exit of hospital with Harry clinged to her, “You came here on car?” She nudges his cheek with her shoulder but he just snuggles his face into the nook of her jaw.

“Mitch took it?” She groans. Swiping the rain droplets away from her forehead and steps behind under the shelter, “No ... it’s parked right here.” He mumbles against her sweet spot making her shiver and she makes them do a lil jog to the car and Harry’s giggling squeaking nonsense in her ear.

“Harry if y’refuse to leave me .....” She warns him trying to squirm out of his embrace as he sits in the passenger seat holding her so she sighs and tries to stick to more gentle coaxing way.

Shaky fingers gliding up his cheek to cup it and stroke the blue bags under his eyes, screaming that he having restless night for week now, “Petal if you don’t leave me how ‘m supposed to drive?” He gazes her peculiarly –- caressing her knuckles, stares his own motion and gives her the most puppy eyes that melts her on the spot, “Then hold me hand?” Now, could she say no to him? Never. She hates herself for it.

“’kay you could hold my –-- lemme —--... just --.. good boy.” She takes her hand out of his grip and pats his thigh before rushing to driver’s side.

She knows that how much he needs reassurances when he’s drunk and how much his love language of touching her peaks to sky.

She fulfils her promise and let him hold her hand, enjoying the little happiness because she knows it’s temporary and in the morning she'd be met by empty bed and hollow arms.

“I missed home.” He smiles wetly. Eyes closed as he stays on hugging her walking inside and whines when she squats down to untie his laces.

When she make him sit on the sofa and tries to leave for the kitchen, he’s lurching forward to grab her wrist and plead into her arm with moisture in his eyes, “No.No.No lovie' don’t go. Don’t go, pleaseeeee.......” She pets his sweaty curls kissing his forehead and murmurs against his hair while he loops his elbows lazily around her waist.

“Not going anywhere bub. Bringing you water.”

“No water. Just you. I missed you. Missed you so much. Missed you too much.” He’s rambling knuckling at his eyes and her belly fills with butterflies that flap till her heart and makes her feel woozy.

Though, she overcomes the bitter sweet feeling and brings him water how much he whined.

He has his hand planted softly at her thigh and gasps loudly and dramatically finishing the last droplet, and puckers his lips making funny noises against the rim of glass and she takes it away from him giggling, “’kay it's enough.”

He shuts his eyes for a moment and when opens them back it’s sea of pinks and the tears are shining at his waterline and he croaks out hoarsely, “Y/N ....?” Sobered up. He's feeling awful and in constant need to take her in his arms.

“Hmm?” She hums giving him a nervous smile and he straightens up taking both of her hands in his's, “I don’t want to be away from you anymore, darlin'. It’s worse than being temporarily away from ye'. Terrible. Terrible. I feel sick all the time as if there’s a dagger twisting into my heart ‘cos I know ‘m never fallin' in love with anyone except you ... but I don’t think you deserve me —.. I -- I —... I just think you —--- it’s killing me baby. Take me back please, baby take me back." He sniffs the tears and she’s crying with him; calling out his name and when he doesn’t listen she’s cradling his face delicately in her palms and making him look at her.

“Harry, my sweetheart. I love you. Isn’t that enough to assure you that I deserve you and only you – no one else.” He's blinking furiously and she bobs her head not flickering her loving gaze away from him.

“I love you too, will you take me back now? After what I did?” His insecurity and doubts about himself floating back.

“You left for best. Realised that we couldn’t live without eachother, didn’t you?” She pecks the corner of his lips and he leans in for a chaste kiss, their teeth clanking from smiling wide and happy and he giggles when she pushes herself off from him.

They crawl to their bed together and she flumps on his chest and he moans squeakily, “Ow.”

“Oh my, Har ....” She gasps. Shakes her head and flicks him on forehead when he grins bashfully.

“G'na take care of me?” His chin doubles over adorably as he tries to see her and brush her hair away.

“Gonna take care of you, petal” She patches a soft kiss to his chest and erupts into loud giggles when he teases her nonchalantly, “G'na help me wipe my arse.”

“Harry! Your other hand’s perfectly capable of wiping yourself clean!” He brings her closer with his uninjured hand and kisses her tenderly -- to show her all the love they missed on these few weeks.

“I love being home.” He murmurs into the kiss. Playing with her tresses round his nimble and traces kisses all over her face.

“Promise me you’re never doing silly again.” She pouts and he plucks at it – smooching a kiss to it later.

“Promise.” He tries to hook his bandaged pinky to her's and she laughs into his neck – shakes her head and kisses his cheek hugging him tightly.

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