#a shame though since i think there were quite a few fun prompts then | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

liloinkoink · 10 months

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For lamplight treebark requests, how about some sleepy cuddles from Rens POV? Could be either Rens still a fire and tucks himself into martyn while he sleeps, or hes got his body back and can cuddle him properly?

this is only loosely following this prompt, but it IS something i’ve had in mind for a bit, so. hope it’s still fun!

Ren doesn’t sleep.

He can, but he doesn’t have to. He spent too much time sleeping when Dogwarts fell, spent days to weeks to months dreaming of people and places he would never have again.

It had been comforting then, but these days, it scares him. Nothing unsettles Ren more than the idea of losing himself to sleep.

He isn't locked away in some little basement anymore. Ren no longer has nothing to lose.

So Ren doesn’t sleep—he wouldn’t dare.

—

Ren makes good on this personal oath for some time. It’s easy to stay awake when Ren is incapable of closing his eyes, to keep his energy up when energy is all Ren is.

Having a body is… far more exhausting than Ren remembered.

He tells Martyn as much, and Martyn only laughs at him.

"Sorry, Ren. Not all of us can be balls of inextinguishable fire," Martyn says, "Though hey, I still have the lantern if you want to switch back."

"No, I think I’ll pass," Ren says, and he sighs, closing his eyes. "But I’m beat, dude. Which means we aren’t going anywhere for the rest of the day."

"Shame," Martyn says, but he’s already sitting down, cross-legged at his god’s side. It’s not like they have anywhere to be, after all, and he’s getting used to the breaks his god needs. "I really should have picked up an instrument the last time we were in town. I thought about it, but it totally slipped my mind."

"Oh, right. You said something about that the first day, didn’t you? The Watchers took your lute," Ren says, and Martyn nods.

"Yeah. Sucks, cuz those are great for nights where you don’t plan to do much. I could’ve played something for you," Martyn says, and he leans his elbows onto his knees, propping his face above Ren’s. Martyn casts a shadow over his god’s face, blocking the fading evening sunlight from blinding him.

"I would have liked that," Ren says, "Your singing voice isn’t terrible, either, instrument or no. I’ve been impressed since the first time I heard it."

"The first… oh, that was the first few days, wasn’t it? Right outside of Dogwarts?" Martyn asks. When Ren nods, Martyn scoffs. "Your standards need work, mi’lord, because I was really struggling to even hold a tune."

"It was the first time I’d heard music since my city was lost. Twenty years of solitude and ten years of silence, and then you carried me out and sang for me," Ren says, "I liked it."

"If I’d known it was your first song in two decades, I might’ve tried harder," Martyn says.

Ren cracks one eye open, frowning.

"Only ‘might’ve?’"

"I was pretty tired, man. I’ll make no promises."

Ren snickers, closing his eye again. He really is tired, as much as he hates to admit it—If he's not careful, he's going to fall asleep. He'll take another moment, and then he swears he'll get up. "I’m starting to see what you meant about being an awful paladin."

"Hey! At least I was up front about it. You’re the idiot who accepted my oath," Martyn says, "Twice, even! You had two whole chances to get rid of me and you didn’t."

Ren laughs, and with that he opens his eyes, pushing up onto his elbows. Martyn leans back to avoid being head-butted, though he doesn’t move terribly far.

"What’s up? Hear something?" Martyn asks. Ren leans his head back to meet Martyn’s eyes—he could sit the rest of the way up and turn around, but he doesn’t quite have it in him to give up on lying down yet. Martyn’s watching him with open amusement, making barely any effort to stop himself from laughing at his god’s strange posture. "What are you doing?"

"I’m just getting up so I can take watch," Ren says, "You should get some rest, dude. We’ve been walking basically all day."

"I’m used to walking for much longer, so I’m fine," Martyn says, "Besides, you seem to need the rest a lot more than I do."

"Gods don’t actually need to sleep, you know."

"Sure, sure. And that’s why you never sleep, right?" Martyn asks, and Ren’s stomach drops.

"…What?"

"Don’t think I haven’t noticed. You haven’t slept since you got your body back," Martyn folds his arms, leaning back. "You’re not exactly subtle. It’s one thing to take watch all night basically every time we sleep outside—I can accept that as a safety thing. But you don’t sleep at inns, either. You always go buy some book every time we get to a new town. You’ll sit up and claim you’re just going to read a bit before bed, and then when I wake up the next morning and you’re still reading it, a candle burnt to a stump on the nightstand beside you."

"I— Okay. So I haven’t been sleeping," Ren admits, folding immediately under scrutiny, "But I don’t need to."

"You clearly do, though. God or not, you’re tired," Martyn shrugs, "Or, no. Even if you don’t need to, you’re tired. Sleeping will be good for you."

"I don’t need to sleep," Ren insists, ignoring him entirely. He rolls over onto his stomach, pushing up to sit across from Martyn. "You do, though. I’m not— I won’t sleep all night and leave you to stay awake the whole time. You’ll just be exhausted instead."

"I never said it would be all night. I used to sleep in shifts all the time when I was with my party," Martyn says, "Sleeping the whole night away when you travel is a luxury, not the norm. I’m fine to sleep for only half the night."

"But—"

"No offense, mi’lord, but if you’re too tired to walk, then you’re too tired to fight," Martyn says, "Just take a nap, Ren."

Ren frowns. If he’s honest, he doesn’t want to sleep. Even thinking about it has Ren's stomach turning.

The last time Ren slept consistently, he was sleeping far more than he was awake. For every minute Ren was conscious, there was a week where Ren wasn't. When he'd first heard Martyn speak of the fall of Dogwarts, Ren had been shocked to learn his city had fallen twenty years ago—the amount of time he'd slept had made it feel so much more recent.

Honestly, Ren doesn't even know how to begin to process how many years he lost to the cold comfort of oblivion.

How much more time can Ren stand to lose?

On some level, Ren knows it's because there had been nothing else to do, locked in that basement or left to sit in the street, rotting in his own grief. If he hadn't been sleeping that time off—if Ren had been conscious, cognizant of all ten million minutes—he would surely have lost his mind.

Still, though, fear is a persistent thing, so very good at keeping any exhausted heart racing through all hours of the night. What if that's not all it was? Gods live for centuries, or they're supposed to. Ren's a hundred-something years old already—What if spending so long as a god messed with his ability to sleep?

It's irrational. Some part of Ren is aware of it, sure, but it's not what scares him the most about sleeping.

"What's actually going on?" Martyn asks, "You wouldn't be so against this if it wasn't for a good reason."

Ren's shoulders sag. He looks down, fingers curling into the grass.

No, it's not the sleeping he's afraid of. What he's afraid of is how much can happen in a month, in a week, in even a single evening.

How long would he sleep for? What if he didn't wake up? Would Martyn be willing to wait for him?

What if something happened to Martyn? What if Martyn got tired of waiting for him to wake and left?

What would Ren do if he woke up alone?

Ren can't lose this. He won't, not if he can help it. There is no universe where Ren risks this for something as stupid and selfish as sleep.

"What if," Ren asks, "I don't wake up?"

"...What?"

"What if I don't wake up?" Ren repeats, looking up. "I used to sleep for— time was hard, especially in that basement, but I think sometimes I'd sleep for months. What if I go to sleep and I can't wake up again?"

"Woah, hey! Ren, it's fine," Martyn raises his hands, leaning a bit forward. Ren stops, expectant, "What are you, a bear? Since when do dogs hibernate?"

"Very funny," Ren mutters. His mouth pulls at a smile, but he's too worried to find much humor in Martyn's jokes. This has never stopped Martyn from making them, and it doesn't keep him from continuing.

"So what if you sleep a few months? I'll find us an inn or something—if you're hibernating, maybe I should find us a cave?—and then—"

"No! No, that's— I'm not sleeping that long. I'm not sleeping."

Ren glares at Martyn, daring him to argue. It's not often Ren pulls rank, but he considers it now, however briefly, just to get Martyn to drop it. He only holds up his hands, leaning back.

"Alright, alright," Martyn says, and his hands fall into his lap.

For a moment, neither of them do anything. Martyn watches the space to the left of Ren's head, and Ren knows that look enough to realize the gears are turning in Martyn's head.

"Hey, could you come here a moment?"

Ren blinks, but he obliges, crawling over to sit just in front of Martyn.

"I can't make you sleep," Martyn says, "but as your paladin, it's my duty to take care of you."

"I distinctly remember you pointedly avoiding saying anything of that sort in your oath," Ren says, without any real bite. Martyn ignores him.

"Can you hand me the bedroll?" Martyn asks, pointing to his pack a bit away. When Ren retrieves it, Martyn lies it out in front of himself. He pats the bedding in front of him, "Sit here? Back to me."

Ren does as he's asked. He glances back over his shoulder, but whatever Martyn's trying to trick him into, he isn't giving up on it yet.

"Humor me a moment?" Martyn asks.

"I'm already humoring you," Ren says, which isn't a no. Martyn laughs under his breath.

"Of course, mi'lord," Martyn agrees, "Lean back?"

Again, Ren does as he's asked. Once he's far enough back, Martyn's hands catch him, guiding him to lie down on his back, his head in Martyn's lap.

"Comfortable?" Martyn asks, and Ren is very aware of every inch of his body which touches Martyn. He always is, now that he can feel it—twenty years numb have made every touch extraordinary, and the the novelty is far from wearing off. All Ren can do is notice every shift of Martyn's legs below his head, or where his shoulders brush against Martyn's shins. Martyn's hands settle on either side of his face, thumbs resting below Ren's eyes. His hands are cold—compared to Ren, they always are—but Ren has come to find even that comforting, especially as Martyn rubs little circles into his cheeks.

"Yeah," Ren admits, and Martyn grins.

"I'm not asking you to sleep," Martyn reiterates, "But rest for a while, at least. You can't run on empty forever. If nothing else, relax for a bit so I know you won't, like, pass out in the street or a battle or something."

That makes Ren laugh, especially as Martyn continues, "I'm serious, Ren, if you pass out in the middle of some monster fight because you decided not to rest for several months, I am not helping you. I'm just going to let that monster's eat you and you'll have to sort out how to deal with that yourself."

"Okay, okay, I hear you," Ren says. Martyn nods, opening his mouth to say something smug, probably, and Ren holds up one finger. "I have one condition, though."

"What's the condition?"

"You have to promise to wake me if I fall asleep," Ren says, "Not tomorrow morning, either—wake me up for watch later tonight. You need to sleep, too."

"Are you kidding me? Obviously I'll wake you. There's no way I am staying up all night. With a face like mine, I need all the beauty sleep I can get," Martyn says, smiling a bit wider as Ren laughs. "You're not sleeping a moment past the end of my watch, dude."

"You swear you'll wake me?"

"At any cost," Martyn agrees, "The last time Tim tried to oversleep, me and Grian nearly threw him into a pond. No way you sleep for months as long as I'm here."

"I'm starting to see a theme with you," Ren says.

"What can I say? It's worked out for me so far," Martyn says, and then he moves one hand off Ren's cheek, covering his eyes. "No more stalling. You're only sleeping half the night, and you've been awake for far too long. Get some rest, Ren."

Ren allows his eyes to shut under Martyn's touch, aware of even the brush of his lashes against the inside of Martyn's palm and the underside of Martyn's fingers. He reaches up, latching onto Martyn's wrist with one hand.

"What will you do if I keep sleeping?" Ren asks, "Even after you've, like, dropped me in another river."

"What do you mean?"

"If I sleep for the next few weeks. If I sleep for a year," Ren ventures, keeping Martyn's hand over his eyes, "What will you do? Will you still be here when I wake up?"

"Depends," Martyn says, "Do you think your back will recover if you sleep on the ground for a year, or should I move you to a bed? Because I don't really want to sit in the dirt for a year, if I'm honest."

Ren laughs, "I should probably move to a bed, huh?"

"Then no, I won't be here. I'll move you somewhere that won't kill your back, and we'll stay there for a year," Martyn says, "Does that sound alright to you?"

"I can agree to that."

#lamplight au #oink asks #i looped find me a place by jupiter one nearly the whole time i was working on this which did normal things to my heart and sanity #this is also for korre. for whom i told id do post-moonlight treebark months ago #lew writes #lew library

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bisexualbumblebee-writes · 2 years

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T-Shirt- Eddie Munson x OC

Eddie Munson x Misty Hawthorne

Description: Eddie is having trouble figuring out a design for the Hellfire Club’s t-shirts. Luckily he has an artistic girlfriend to help him.

Word Count: 2.3k

“I don’t know what to do,” Eddie groaned, slumping back in his chair, which prompted Misty to shoot him a sympathetic smile.

These past few weeks had been quite stressful for Eddie, things just seemed to keep stacking on each other. First of all, his grades. He was barely passing almost all of his classes, and the only one he wasn’t barely passing was English because he was failing it. In his defense, teachers always seemed to hand out more homework and projects near the end of senior year. Maybe it was just one last hurrah at getting the students to suffer before they finally escaped, which was not helping Eddie’s case.

His grades were technically the least of his concerns (according to him), but it was because of the next reason that he was having trouble with them. He was super busy planning on how to end his campaign. It was something he’d been stressed about since he started planning it because he couldn’t decide what the final boss would be. The fact that he had a ton of homework as the end of the year grew closer was not helping his case.

Finally, there was the thing that stressed him out most: t-shirts. That may sound weird, but it sounds much more sane with contect. You see, yearbook photos were coming up, any day as a matter of fact. And yearbook photos meant that the different clubs of Hawkins High had to take a picture to remember them by. The Dungeons and Dragons club was a part of that list, and Eddie had taken it upon himself to decide that they needed t-shirts to wear for the picture. The problem? He had no idea what to do for the shirt’s design.

All of these problems he had vented to Misty in great detail as they sat alone at a table during lunch as a way to alleviate this stress. Normally he sat with his club members, but one of his problems involved the campaign. He wasn’t about to tell them his master plan (or lack thereof) because that would ruin the element of surprise and fun in their sessions.

Misty, as shameful as it was, was only half listening to her boyfriend. After all, he wasn’t the only one who had a lot of schoolwork to do. As she listened to him rant, she worked on a project for her art class. The assignment was to create their favorite flower(s) in any medium they chose. Misty opted for a bouquet filled with dahlias, ranunculus, roses, sweet peas, and astilbe. Naturally, she went for a painting, but she wanted to at least get a rough sketch of it before she put a brush to her sketchbook.

At some point though, her attention slowly slipped away from her boyfriend as she became more focused on getting the details of the dahlias down. His words faded from her ears as she worked on the many petals of the flower until it was obvious that she was no longer paying attention. Eddie wasn’t any better. He was so focused on his rant that he hadn’t even realized that his girlfriend was no longer listening until he asked her opinion.

“What do you think, babe?” He questioned, pushing his chair back so it balanced on its hind legs idly. When he received no response from the girl he finally looked at her.

“Babe?” He repeated curiously. When Misty still hadn’t answered he snapped his fingers twice, which finally caught her attention. She looked at him with slightly wide eyes as she set her pencil down.

“Hmm? What’s up?” A small laugh escaped Eddie’s lips as he shook his head, but he had no time to say anything before his eyes landed on her sketchpad, which lay on the table with a gorgeous bouquet drawn on its open page.

“Whoa, did you just draw this?” He asked with wide eyes, snatching the sketchbook before she could even think about grabbing it.

“Well, it’s not like I just printed it,” she retorted with a small laugh, giving up any hope that she would get it back before he was done looking at it.

“Baby this is amazing,” Eddie all but yelled, which made her shake her head amusedly.

“It’s not finished, I still need to paint it,” Misty explained, finally retrieving her book back afterwards. Eddie didn’t reply, too lost in thought as he stared at the table in front of them. She could practically see the cogs turning in his head, and she was almost afraid to ask what he was thinking. Finally after a few minutes he looked at her.

“Oh sweetest and most beautiful-est girlfriend in the world?” He called in the sweetest voice he could muster, pulling out his puppy dog eyes and boyish grin combo. Misty rolled her eyes as she began packing up her things, having realized that lunch was almost over.

“What do you want, Eds?” She retorted in a flat tone.

“Would you be oh so kind enough to design the t-shirts for the Hellfire Club?” He asked, leaning closer to her. That made the girl stop what she was doing and look at him, surprise evident on her face.

“I…Eddie, I only really do free form art,” she stammered. “I’ve never done designs or anything like that.”

“Then this’ll be good practice,” the boy pointed out, tone bordering on desperation as he stood from his chair, instead choosing to just lean over her with one hand supporting him on the table. The girl considered his point, then hesitated.

“I don’t know Eddie…”

“Come on Misty, I’ll give you anything you want,” he begged. “I’ll buy you all the cherry candy in Hawkins, or I can have everyone pay for a shirt. Don’t make me get on my knees and beg.” That made Misty laugh, and she found herself thinking over his words. She had been looking for a way to get some extra money. This may be good business. That thought is what made her finally nod.

“The candy thing isn’t necessary, but I’ll take the payment,” she responded. An elated smile appeared on Eddie’s face almost instantly. He pressed a wet and sloppy kiss to her cheek before standing up again.

“You’re the best babe,” he called, already jogging over to his friends as the bell rang, signaling that lunch had ended. Misty could only laugh and shake her head at him before standing up.

It took Misty quite a while to come up with a design. It had to be school appropriate, which was rather difficult considering the club was literally called the “Hellfire Club.” It wasn’t often that she became irritated with her boyfriend’s creativity, but it seemed that this would be one of the few times as she had to figure out how to get around the rules. Eddie decided that he and the others wanted to be surprised by the final product, so she had some leeway with the design process.

She went through many design iterations before finally settling on one. Her excitement increased when she double checked the dress code rules and realized that she’d successfully made a design that still abided by them. With that out of the way, all she had to do was get the guys’ sizes and get them printed on some shirts. It didn’t take her long to find a printing place that would allow her to print the designs on t-shirts for relatively cheap. So, after getting the guys’ sizes and payment she made her way back to the shop and got to work.

It seemed that she’d finished them in the nick of time because the very day that she was supposed to pick up her order, Eddie informed her that their yearbook picture would be taken after school at 3:00. That meant that she had to rush out after the final bell, get to the shop, grab the shirts and pay for them, then get back to the school in time for the guys to have their picture taken in them.

She was honestly surprised that she’d made it back in time considering she also took the time to change into the shirt she had made for herself before heading back. Nevertheless, she walked into the building that the Hellfire Club used with a bag containing a neat pile of black and white raglan shirts in her hands and a smile on her face.

She walked inside the designated room, where the club members were sitting and talking amongst themselves. All of their heads snapped to her when they heard the door open, and in an instant they were out of their seats and crowding around her talking over each other. Misty very quickly became overwhelmed with the sudden attention, but she had no time to say anything before Eddie spoke.

“Guys,” he yelled from his seat, apparently having been the only one who remained in his seat. His exclamation caught the group’s attention, and he stood from his seat and held out his arms.

“How about we all sit down and let the lady present the shirts instead of stampeding her, huh?” It was in question form, but everyone knew it was an order. Since the club basically viewed him as a deity they did as he said and sat back down.

“Thank you Eddie,” Misty said pointedly as she followed them to the table. She set the bag of shirts on the table, smacking Mike’s hand away when he attempted to reach for it before unzipping her jacket.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to present to you,” she paused for dramatic effect before flinging open her jacket, revealing the design. “Your new club uniform.”

Gasps were heard all around and all eyes turned to Eddie for his opinion. The boy stared at her, examining her. He didn’t say anything for a minute, which began to worry Misty. Did he have a different design in mind that he was hoping would translate to her? The silence was killing her, and the room was tense. Finally, Eddie slowly stood up and walked over to her at the same speed. Once he was in arm’s reach, he stopped. He and Misty had a small staredown, then an almost comically wide smile finally appeared on his face.

“Badass, babe. They’re amazing,” he said with an affirming nod. With his approval everyone began talking over each other once again, though this time it was praises for her instead of impatient ranting. A small laugh escaped Misty’s lips as she took off her jacket and draped it over Dustin’s chair so they could see the full thing.

“Alright guys, find your sizes and go change. I’m sure the photographer will be here any minute,” she instructed, much happier now. The group stood in unison and dug into the jacket, quickly finding their sizes before walking out to the nearest bathroom. That left only Eddie and Misty in the room watching after them amusedly. Once the door closed Misty faced her boyfriend, only to be met with his lips on hers. Though surprised at first, she quickly reciprocated the kiss as her arms went around his neck. After pulling away, Eddie had a toothy grin on his face.

“Seriously babe, the shirts are amazing. I knew you could do it,” he muttered sincerely, wrapping his arms around her waist comfortably.

“Well, I’m glad you like them,” she responded, copying his smile. They just stood in each other’s arms for a few minutes before Misty glanced at the time.

“You should probably go get changed,” she muttered, hesitantly pulling away from him. The boy nodded and grabbed his shirt, but just before he walked out he paused and turned to her.

“Oh, by the way, I know you said that the candy wasn’t necessary, but…” he trailed off, pulling something out of his pocket. It was a cherry Jolly Rancher. Misty couldn’t help but laugh as he unwrapped it and held it up for her, then allowed him to feed it to her.

“There’s more where that came from,” he muttered with a wink before finally walking out, leaving her standing there with the candy in her mouth and a smile on her face. It didn’t take her long to gather her things, but by the time she was walking out of the room the school’s photographers were already posing the guys in front of the school’s logo that had been painted in the hallway. Her smile returned as she watched the process, and it didn’t take Mike long to notice her.

“Hey Misty, get over here,” he called with a grin, waving her over. Misty was surprised by his request.

“I’m not in the Hellfire Club,” she pointed out.

“You might as well be,” Gareth responded.

“Yeah, you made the shirts and you alway help set up sessions,” Eddie ultimately added with a boyish grin before gesturing to her to come closer. “Now get your cute butt over here and take a picture with us.” Misty rolled her eyes but complied nevertheless, moving to stand between her boyfriend and Dustin after setting her stuff down.

The girl she recognized in the yearbook committee as Tanya told them to pose how they liked as they prepared to take the picture. Everyone sort of did their own thing, but Eddie decided to throw an arm around Misty’s shoulders and pull her closer to him. Misty opted to just lean against him while resting her elbow on Dustin’s shoulder as everyone smiled. Tanya counted down from three then took the picture. Just before the camera flashed Misty suddenly stuck her tongue out like the devil on her shirt, displaying her now red tongue. That would certainly make the photo more memorable.

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction

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peace-coast-island · 5 months

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Diary of a Junebug

The joys of being mediocre in something you enjoy

There’s something freeing about accepting that you don’t have to be good at something you enjoy doing. I think it’s natural for us to feel like we have to be decent at something in order to keep going at it. There’s nothing more frustrating than putting all your time and effort into doing some sort of activity or hobby only for it to turn out kinda eh, or for it to just completely fall short of what you envisioned. That alone, I think, takes a lot of fun out of it.

Having been there many times, I find it kind of acts like a roadblock. It also doesn’t help that most of us have it hammered in us the expectation of “If you can’t do it right, then don’t bother doing it at all.” sort of mindset. Even though most people who say that probably intended it to help you, it, in fact, does the exact opposite.

Hobbies are supposed to be fun. I think that’s something we need to remind ourselves from time to time. And if it stops being fun, you can put it down. There’s no shame in trying and failing - gotta repeat that to myself from time to time.

While Raiden, Qingmei, Makoto, and Dainn were visiting, I took out my violin for the first time in years. Even though I’m kinda rusty, I still can still play a couple decent tunes. Although I’ve played the violin for five years in school, I didn’t get much out of it, except maybe a casual appreciation for orchestras and classical music.

To be honest, I wasn’t the best at playing the violin, which was why I was usually in the back. I liked it enough to stick with it for so long, but I wasn’t aspiring to be a maestro or anything. Maybe I would have enjoyed it more if I wasn’t so hung up on the fact that I was just okay at playing. It also didn’t help that the teacher we had through middle and high school was kinda pretentious in a snobby way - but that’s a really minor point. Basically, being part of the school orchestra gave me something to do other than academics, but other than that, it was meh as I pretty much just went thought the motions by doing the bare minimum.

Makoto’s been hanging out with Qingmei and Dainn a lot more, and he kinda prompted them, and the other demon slayers to pick up a musical instrument. Raiden’s quite musical as she knows how to play quite a few different instruments as well as sing. She’s the one who got Qingmei into piano, which then led to Qingmei getting into songwriting.

And unexpectedly, Dainn jumped in on the songwriting too despite having absolutely no prior musical experience. Even though he downplayed his contribution to Star Blessed Slumber as merely just a translator and his singing as passable for someone who never sang a note ever, Raiden noted that he seemed to have a lot of fun with the process. I mean, it makes sense considering that it’s a whole new and different thing for him, especially since he grew up in a culture and upbringing that didn’t really place as much emphasis on the arts.

Sometime later, Makoto offered to teach him how to play the cello. The whole thing was literally Dainn being like “Oh, this is so cool! I wish I could play something” when he saw Makoto play with an orchestra. And then Makoto responded along the lines of “Why not start now?” And he was like “Wait, what?” Then there was some back and forth with Dainn wondering if this was a good idea or not while Makoto was encouraging him to give it a try. Finally, he said, “Why not?” and picked the cello.

Several months later, he’s taken well to the instrument. It goes to show that you’re never too old to pick up on something new. Dainn started out from scratch, being unable to read a note and not knowing the basics, to playing songs and picking up all sorts of new skills. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so enthusiastic about something since picking up the cello - neither have the others. I guess after being known as a warrior for most of his life, it’s nice to have a change of pace and pursue something he never considered before.

Raiden was surprised when she saw Dainn with a cello, even more so when she saw how seriously he was taking his lessons. Then again, he tends to be a serious person, though that’s probably more of a product of his upbringing. Plus, there’s also the way he was raised to put 1000% effort into everything, and nothing less. Obviously, it took a lot of practice for him to get where he is now - that’s something that takes time and dedication, not just talent alone.

In terms of technical skills, he’s still got a long way to go - mainly because he’s still very much a newbie. I can’t really judge on that since I’m no expert on the cello, but I do know that playing an instrument isn’t really something you can learn overnight. Like with Qingmei, Raiden insisted on documenting Dainn’s progress on learning how to play, and it’s provided a lot of useful insights. It’s also nice to have something to look back on and see how far you’ve come, especially when you start off going in totally blind.

Obviously when you start out, it’s gonna be rough. Everything is new and unnatural, so it takes time for you to get used to it. You either get frustrated enough to throw in the towel, or you persist and keep going until it clicks and finally makes sense. And then you keep going, learning more and more new things. The more you do it, you either keep at it, or eventually lose interest and move on to something else.

And I think while trying - and struggling - to learn something new, the fun and joy of it kinda gets lost. After all, it’s hard to enjoy something if you’re struggling to get the basics down. Not to mention that there’s this mindset of “If you’re not getting it right, then what’s the point?”, which takes away the incentive of picking up something new. That shame and embarrassment of not getting the hang of something really stops you in your tracks. It’s even worse when people around you are like, “Don’t bother, you’re not good at it anyway. Do something more productive with your time instead.”

I don’t consider myself a perfectionist, but I do fall into that trap of giving up and getting frustrated when I don’t get something right after putting a lot of effort into it. That nagging thought of maybe I’m wasting my time kicks in and it makes me kinda regret even trying in the first place. It’s a frustrating cycle that’s easily imposed on you either by yourself or others, often without realizing it.

Qingmei’s gone a long way since she learned how to play the piano despite having no prior musical knowledge whatsoever as well and now she’s writing music. In her case, she never really set out to be good, she just wanted to pick up a fun hobby. Being a swordfighter and adventurer for pretty much her whole life, Qingmei realized that she needed to have interests outside of those in order to get out of a rut, which was the main reason why she wanted to learn piano - other than it being something that looked cool and fun.

Dainn’s reasons for picking up the cello were similar. He was basically raised as a warrior ever since he could walk, and so his life revolved around that. Going from a lowly foot soldier to practically straight to the top as captain wasn’t something he planned, more like predetermined by the elder knights - something he’s kinda resented as time went on. Since he didn’t have any other aspirations, he just did as he was told because it never occurred to him that he was allowed to make his own choices. He speculated that maybe if it weren’t for the fact that he was from what they called “The Streets”, rather than a noble like most knights were, maybe he would have been a lot more sheltered and isolated.

The more I learn about his past - which is not much, really, - the more I get why he seems kind of aloof and keeps things vague. I guess after spending centuries fighting a losing battle without really understanding why it had to be you who suffered, but doing so anyway out of obligation, it’s no wonder why he struggled a lot after the calamity passed. And somehow, he survived despite all odds. So what happens next since you’re still alive and kicking? Raiden was surprised that he chose to stick around, though it makes sense why considering that he had nowhere to go and wandering the wilderness probably wouldn’t do him any good since it’ll be more of the same, except maybe being even more lost and directionless.

Obviously, most people don’t have extreme scenarios like that, but it’s my long winded way of saying that it’s good to have a wide range of interests and not let yourself be boxed in. But in order to do so, you need to be able to step out of your comfort zone and not be afraid to do things badly. After all, you need to start off somewhere before you get good. And even if you still aren’t that good, if you enjoy it, then that’s all that really matters.

Do it for yourself. Don’t let other voices cloud your mind with unwarranted criticism, especially when that critic is yourself.

As I’ve said, I was inspired to take my violin out after all these years. Seeing how enthusiastic Dainn and Makoto are, I really wished I appreciated playing the violin more. I mean, it was a school thing, and I’m pretty sure no one in an intermediate orchestra set out to be professional musicians, but still. At least I do have an appreciation for classical music and orchestras, even on a superficial level as in they sound good and I think more people should get into them. I have been getting into more artists who are known for incorporating classical elements in their music - a genre that’s often considered old, outdated, and kinda inaccessible - and introducing modern audiences to them, so I guess that’s something.

So we had some fun playing around with our instruments and I didn’t feel self conscious about my playing at all. I was surprised that playing the violin still came somewhat naturally to me - that’s muscle memory, I guess. Maybe I’m not the best at playing, but that’s not gonna stop me from trying. I doubt I’ll be picking up my violin again anytime soon, but if I feel like it, there’s a lot of songs I’d want to learn how to play. I won’t be playing in any symphony orchestras - not that I want to, that sounds too intimidating! - but I’ll be playing for me, which is for fun and curiosity, and that’s more than good enough.

And despite playing the violin for five years, I never mastered the vibrato, which is a shame because I want to be able to do it, even just for the sake of sounding like I know what I’m doing. Dainn asked me if I had any tips on vibrato as he’s been struggling with that and I said well, we’re on the same boat. But there’s nothing stopping us from attempting, which we did.

How did we do? Horribly. Did we know what we were doing? Hell no! And it was funny, actually. Nothing like bonding over being bad at something and getting a laugh out of it. I’m sure he’ll get the hang of it someday - I’m counting on it!

That said, it would be nice to be able to master the vibrato. I mean, these days, you can find tutorials on pretty much anything. So if I ever decide to pick up my violin and learn a bunch of new stuff, I’m hoping it wouldn’t be too hard to find something. But again, I’m not really looking to becoming a maestro, though I’m open to playing more for funsies. I think for me, the freedom to be able to choose what you want to get out of an activity that has less to do with improving your skills like it’s a competition and more with improving out of curiosity does more to retain my interest.

Along with jamming out as an improv orchestra, we’ve been doing quite a bit of baking too. Baking is another thing that I’m not always the best at, but I enjoy nonetheless. I mean, I’d like to think I’m kinda above average when it comes to baking since I do it kind of often. I don’t tend to gravitate towards complex recipes that take a lot of steps and prep, but I do like to occasionally challenge myself with a recipe that’s slightly out of my comfort zone.

While I’m happy to say that most of my baking turns out good, I have had a few flops here and there - some which unfortunately end up being a waste. I try to salvage it because wasting food is not good - and in most cases, thankfully, it’s still edible, just not something I’d want to have again - but sometimes, usually for the sake of your stomach if it’s that bad, you have to give up and call it a day.

Maybe our impromptu orchestra session made us a bit more daring than usual, which was why we decided to challenge ourselves a bit in the kitchen. Then again, with Raiden taking charge, she tends to encourage us to push our limits. She is an expert on making all kinds of desserts, and so if you want to tackle a recipe that seems kinda daunting to take on alone, ask her for help. Even if it doesn’t turn out successful, at least we’ll have a good time trying to figure it out!

The toughest recipe by far was this angelcloud cake, a recipe that Raiden randomly found online in some ancient cookbook. Part of the reason why she chose this recipe was because she kinda expected us to fail. At a quick glance, the way the recipe is written is…well, I guess cramming in your life’s story in a recipe has always been a thing. Not to mention that it’s really disorganized, so even if you read through the recipe several times, it still doesn’t really make a lot of sense. And we’re pretty sure that there’s a lot of errors as the logic behind the measurements don’t really add up.

That said, I’ve been curious about where exactly this recipe originated from. Raiden went down a rabbit hole trying to uncover the recipe’s origins, but because it’s ancient, there’s not a lot. With what little information that’s available, it’s all conflicting. The conclusion we came up with is that it was probably one of those recipes that was probably passed down by families where no one bothered to write it out because everyone knew it. The one time someone decided to put it in writing, it ended up being inaccurate, and that’s the one that survived the passage of time. Go figure.

Sure, there were frustrations when things turned out badly, but it wasn’t so bad that we ended up wasting a bunch of perfectly good ingredients. I think it helped that we kinda knew it wasn’t gonna work, but we wanted to try to figure it out anyway because we were curious. The fun kind of fuck around and find out.

Even though we didn’t end up with a light and fluffy angelcloud cake, the final product, a somewhat dense and lopsided buttery vanilla cake, turned out pretty good. Raiden knows how to salvage a failing recipe and managed to turn the sad mess of merengues into a really thick cake batter. She did take a huge risk by putting a lot of butter in there, but it somehow worked. Without it, I can’t imagine how the cake would have tasted - probably super bland and dry.

Then we baked cupcakes, which went a lot more smoothly - not to mention that we had a lot less dishes to wash. We put up a poll and it seems like everyone was in the mood for matcha strawberry cupcakes, which go well with tea. As the snow keeps falling, tea has been our go-to drink to warm us up.

What better way to spend time cooped up inside than with music and cake?

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#animal crossing pocket camp #animal crossing #diary of a junebug #headcanon ramble

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

Crackin’ the Code

prompt: Harry and YN tie the knot in a beautiful castle off the coat of Italy. Harry reflects back on his life before his love. YN has past insecurities creep on on her before the wedding.

note: this is the necklace that YN receives as (one) her wedding gifts from H and she wears it during the ceremony.

word count: 9k

warnings: smut

***<-- click for visuals throughout (super important for this one shot!)

if you enjoy this fic (which i worked REALLY hard on) please reblog, like, comment, and come talk to me!

please please considering donating to my kofi since all my work is FREE to you guys!

---

The world expected an extravagant wedding with week-long festivities, celebrations in destinations only the richest could afford, and all the big names of the business world who ran in his circle.

The media outlets were just waiting, quite impatiently, for the day that the richest man in Europe settled down with a significant other. They would have news stories for decades when it came to the couple.

Of course, Harry Styles was going to marry a household name - the public thought.

Whether it be an heiress, a model, maybe even an actress? The choices for the most eligible bachelor were limitless.

Any time he was at an event, usually a charity gala or black-tie dinner, paparazzi would take candid pictures of him with any female and then the following day publish an article about how they were a couple.

However, what the world didn’t know was that he’s been in a relationship for a year and a half, has already been engaged after the eight month mark, and moved into pretty soon after but that was hushed.

Nearly no one except a few key employees and family members knew about the couple. Everyone in his office building in the heart of London had to sign NDA’s at the beginning of their job - though almost all of them didn’t know she existed.

Harry did not put any limits on YN for the wedding planning.

No price, no expectations, nothing. If she wanted ten-thousand people or zero people in attendance that was her call. If she wanted to drop ten million dollars on a wedding or a hundred that was fine too.

The CEO never fantasized about a wedding.

Well he had but no in the terms most do. He didn’t sit and imagine the venue, the food menu, or the decorations.

No, he didn’t care about any of that, he daydreamed about the fact that he and someone would commit themselves to each other for the rest of their lives.

Harry wanted to marry his fiance after their first date.

He was usually a very patient man, couldn’t have gotten where he was if he wasn’t. When it came to this, each day he wasn’t married to the love of his life felt like torture.

Since he proposed to her in his briefs in their bedroom, he had imagined her looking immaculate in whatever she chose to wear, exchanging vows of devotion, and then being tied together for life.

He never thought he would get here. He’d never felt a connection with someone like he had with the feisty waitress who bumped into him. Begin to believe that he was broken or lacking emotion because no matter how sweet the girl was he couldn’t see himself with the person.

Don’t get him wrong.

He took many women out on dates that were downright awful. Asking him about money, suggesting he take them on expensive vacations or buy them a designer item, being too forward and palming his crotch in the middle of dinner.

One of the last dates he went on before he gave up was the one that made him stop looking all together, about six months before he ran in YN.

---

It was an expensive restaurant in the heart of London. It had a waitlist for months but one call and they could magically make an available booth for the billionaire within the hour.

The girl he was sitting across from was a so-to-speak blind date.

A set up by one of his business partners who stated that they would be a good match. Harry had rolled his eyes at that but couldn’t come up with an excuse fast enough to say ‘no.’

Her name was Aria, she had a respectable job at a local law firm as an assistant to a very well-known lawyer in the area.

She was beautiful in the way of looking just like an instagram model with long dark extensions, false eyelashes that made it hard to determine what color her eyes were, and an outfit that made Harry a bit embarrassed to be seen with her - short and low cut at a five-star restaurant.

“Yeah, I just got back from Mallorca with a group of friends,” She tells him, flipping through the photo album on her phone to show him pictures.

When she ‘accidentally’ swipes (and slowly swipes) again so that Harry definitely gets a glimpse of a nude selfie.

Harry internally groans, couldn’t be less turned on by that, and doesn’t acknowledge it - much to Aria's disappointment.

She was fishing for a compliment, maybe a request for him to take the phone and look closer at the picture like most men would.

Instead he sits back, takes a sip of his wine, and nods curtly, “It looks like you had a good time.”

She stumbles for a second, confused by his sudden standoffishness, and clicks her phone locked before putting it next to her on the table, “Did I offend you?”

He was already done with the date, with the dating scene, with fucking everything honestly.

What a goddamn waste of a night.

Harry barks out a cruel laugh, “It takes a lot more to offend me than a picture of y’tits but it’s a bit offensive that y’think so little of yourself that you think that’s how y’going to impress me. Those tits didn’t impress me much, darling.”

Aria’s eyes narrow in blatant disbelief at how much of an asshole he was being.

Granted, she did feel a bit of embarrassment creeping up in her stomach about thinking showing him that picture was a good idea but still, he didn’t need to react like that.

“It really makes sense why you don’t have a girlfriend, it’s because of what an asshole you are,” The girl sneers with venom as she tucks her phone into her clutch, swigging down the last drops of the expensive wine.

He shrugs like he’s unbothered, a nasty feeling quilling in the pit of his stomach as he keeps an outward expression of nonchalance and ease, it make the raven-haired woman even more furious as he replies cooly, “I’m not being an asshole, honesty hurts sometimes. Maybe if you think the way you attract someone is by nude pictures, you should try Tinder or Bumble.”

“I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have,” Aria tells him before pushing out her chair and leaving before the main course even arrives.

Harry sits there for a moment, swallowing and pleading with himself to not let the nasty words set in because they felt too real and too personal - she had actually struck some type of chord within and it had his stomach churning.

When he pays the bill, apologizing profusely for leaving dinner before the entree arrives but with an excuse of a company emergency - it’s eerily quiet in his car as he drives home to his massive home with no one in it.

It doesn’t happen often.

He should call his mum, Gemma, Dorothy even to talk it out but he feels so fucking alone because he can’t get it right. He can’t connect with anyone and it is starting to feel hopeless.

He is angry, so angry at himself, that he can’t shake the feeling of it and he feels like he’s losing control because he never fucking talks about his emotions.

A beautiful set of dishware was sitting out his dining room table, the housekeeper had carefully unwrapped them earlier in the day.

They were imported from Beijing, decorated with real gold, and handcrafted. It had cost him nearly forty-thousand dollars for a set of fucking plates and bowls.

I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.

It is repeatedly on a loop in his head, glares at the items on the dinner table like they’re mocking him, and he has no wits about himself before he’s taking one of the beautiful bowls and throwing it against the wall as hard as possible.

I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.

By the time he’s done, his chest is heaving, and his face is red.

When reality starts to set back in, every single item from the set is destroyed on the floor, the wall’s paint chipped from where he’d hurled them.

He was so fucked up.

Harry couldn’t help but relieve the feelings of that nasty flashback. He couldn’t believe that he had been at that point in his life - not when he had the most all-consuming, amazing in every single way woman laying next to him in his bed.

YN had shown Harry that he had never been broken, he had just been waiting.

She was his soulmate and he had been waiting for her since forever. He truly believed that as he looked at the girl next to him with enough emotion his heart might burst.

She was just...everything.

YN was so fucking funny - the funniest person Harry had ever met. She was loving in a way that made you feel like you belonged. Compassionate in a way that makes you want to be more selfless yourself. Intelligent enough that it was breathtaking and unreal - and that was just the tip of the iceberg.

She was uncaring of who Harry was - in the most perfect way.

Money wasn’t a personality trait that she defined him with. She loved him for who he was at the bare basics, stripped away from his public life.

She was confident in a way that girls rarely were.

Bared face and more beautiful than the highest-paid models.

Her body was her own, embracing every curve and inch of it without any shame. Let herself be authentic in front of Harry which made him feel like he had won a secret lottery.

Right now, she was fast asleep next to him in bed after stuffing herself full of oreos that she was dunking in milk. She ignored Harry’s looks of disgust at the soggy cookies and munched away happily which made him happy in turn.

She still had a dark crumb on the corner of her puffy lips, her mouth parted just the slightest amount, and her face smushed halfway into the pillow.

The shirt she had on was so oversized she was swimming in it and a pair of soft pink cheeky underwear.

Currently, she was the farthest thing from graceful and Harry loved that so fucking much.

As they lay mere days away from their wedding, remembering that nasty flashback, he can’t help but remember their first date and how he had known from them that he had finally found a spark, a connection to another human being.

Harry cannot remember the last time he had been nervous.

Maybe back in his teenage years? If that.

It was an unsettling feeling that was currently pooling in the pit of his stomach as he changed his outfit for the third time before finally being somewhat satisfied with the suit he had picked out - tighter black jeans, black button-up, black blazer - couldn’t go wrong there. ***

YN had texted him asking what she should wear for their first date when Harry told her he was going to keep it simple and take her to a restaurant.

He had to dress nice, it was an expensive restaurant that he had not taken any other dates to before, it was right outside of London - going towards the countryside with a beautiful view of a meadow and stream.

When he had arrived in front of her apartment, well he had never been on this side of town, and it quite frankly looked like the roof of her building was about to collapse at any minute. It was rough to say the least.

Harry had picked out a car he thought would impress her. He remembered her saying the doors of his Lamborghini were stupid so he picked a car with normal doors this time. It was his new Audi Quattro that had cost him upwards of 170,000 pounds. ***

YN had popped out of the front door, her face didn’t read impressed when she saw the car like he had hoped. It was interesting before YN, he did not care whether or not his dates were impressed by him - now he craved it.

She looked extraordinary in a form fitting silky black dress that hugged every single curve of her body perfectly while accentuating them at the same time. Minimal makeup, loose waves, and simple high heels - it was like a dream that he was taking this girl out on a date. ***

When she slips into the passenger seat, the smell of her floral yet cinnamon perfume makes the car smell heavenly, she looks over at him and says, “You didn’t even come open the door for me. We’re off to a bad start, Harry.”

His heart sinks, fuck - he had been blindsided by her beauty that he wasn’t even being a proper gentleman, “M’so sorry, I wa-”

She chirps out a tender laugh, patting his arm, “You’re face, oh my god. I was just fucking with you.”

Harry’s frown turns into a pout, “S’not nice, pet.”

YN shrugs before a bit self-consciously adjusting the fabric around her midsection, “Erm, I hope this outfit is nice enough? It’s really the only semi-decent thing I own.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, “Y’look absolutely stunning. I can’t even believe y’real to be honest, so fuckin’ pretty.”

YN gives him a shy, unsure smile but he can tell she’s preening at the compliment internally (which she totally is).

The restaurant is one of the nicest in England, let alone London.

There wasn’t even a menu, they just served eight courses over a few hours time by servers in suits with bowties on.

YN had never felt more out of place.

As they sat down, Harry was proud that he was able to show off his abilities for a good date, YN was looking around nervously before looking up at the server and saying, “We didn’t get menus yet.”

The man gives her a humorous expression before telling her, “We don’t do menus here, miss. Your date is a regular, I am sure he can fill you in. However, we are starting off with a Cabernet from 2001 imported from Napa, California.”

As he pours the wine into their sparkling glasses, she asks unknowingly, “I don’t really like wine. Is there any way I could get a Coke?”

Harry frowns when the server laughs meanly at her, “Ma’am this isn’t McDonald’s. We do not carry soda. I can provide you with water, if you so wish.”

Harry can’t help but snap at the waiter, “Oi, she’s never been here before. Lay off with the attitude alright?”

“My apologies, Mr. Styles,” He murmurs obediently before finishing the pouring off the whine and retreating from the table.

YN is trying to hide how uncomfortable she is but it is still obvious with how she fidgets in her seat, doesn’t quite know what to do with her hands as she doesn’t even bother to reach towards the wine glass.

“This isn’t really your scene, is it?” Harry murmurs, embarrassment with his failure to impress her with an expensive car and dinner.

It was falling flat and it was the only thing he knew how to do - flaunt his wealth, everyone else had always been impressed.

“No, it isn’t,” She agrees quietly, fingers folding the edges of the cloth napkin to keep her anxiousness directed somewhere, “I appreciate this, er, dinner. I thought we were going to go somewhere like Mary’s.”

Mary’s was a restaurant that was considered ‘nice’ to the commoners in the city. It was a bit more expensive than a pub and the attire was a bit fancier than if you were going out to a bar.

For someone like Harry, that was not considered a fancy restaurant.

However, YN was not him and this was not something that she had ever been accustomed to. He now definitely felt like an idiot.

It’s made even worse when a massive plate is put in front of each of them.

The plate is huge but the dish is merely one scallop with a lemon sauce and sprinkle of parsley on top. YN can’t even try to hide her confusion at the food.

“I’ve mucked this date up,” Harry sighs, nearly thirty minutes into the actual date.

YN had taken a small bite of the scallop before setting down her fork and not touching it again - it tasted like dirty feet. Did rich people like that taste?

She decides not to answer directly, “I already know you have money. It doesn’t ‘wow’ me. I was hoping for a fun date, this is….nice but quite truthfully, not for me. I prefer a pub or bowling - this feels more like a business meeting.”

Harry usually doesn’t have dates that are this honest with him.

He feels embarrassed but he really did appreciate her honesty. He should have known to do something different than this but he was comfortable with his normal pattern.

“Can we get out of here?” YN asks, placing the napkin back on the table and gathering up her small purse to swing over her shoulder.

He feels defeated as he nods, paying for the meal in full as he accepts that he’s fucked up the date beyond repair by being an arrogant, ignorant asshole who doesn’t truly know how to talk to a girl he likes.

It’s quiet as he starts the car and pulls back onto the road, he startles a bit when YN points to a glowing sign of a golden arch and demands, “Go there.”

With a bit of confusion, Harry pulls into the McDonald’s parking lot and then to the drive-thru as she motions for him to do so.

God, he hasn’t been to a fast food joint in years now if he was being honest.

When they pull up to the screen, YN leans across and shoots out their food order with ease before sitting back with a smug smile, “We’re going to have a date my way.”

Harry sighs with relief when he realizes the date isn’t over - but really just beginning. They sit and chat in the parking lot. He is thoroughly impressed when YN manages a box of nuggets, a fry, and a milkshake without shame.

Not like she should be shameful - just usually on dates women were hesitant to actually eat and instead picked carefully at their food instead. Their conversation in the car is bright, at some points deep and meaningful, but refreshing. It made him feel young again.

After they finished eating, she’s ordering him to drive a bit further out into the country where he can’t help but make the joke, “Are y’taking me somewhere to kill me?” YN smiles happily with a wide grin, “You’ll just have to wait to see.”

It ends up being a lake. A beautiful body of water that was surrounded by trees that were being reflected into the ripples with the light of the moon. The only sounds were of crickets chirping and the light lapping of the water against the small shore. ***

“I used to come here a lot in the summer in high school,” YN murmurs as Harry takes in the scenery of everything. It had been so long since he had appreciated nature - not the bright clear waters in the tropics but something like this.

“S’beautiful,” Harry replies, can’t help but observe this girl he’s infatuated beauty in the moonlight.

Her skin looks like it’s glowing, the moon sparkling off the twinkle of her iries, and she just looked...ethereal. Like she belonged in the beauty of the wilderness.

He couldn’t believe his eyes - had to blink harshly a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it when she pulls the thin straps of her dress down her shoulders and shimmy the garment down her body until she’s left in a delicate lace bra and cheeky pair of underwear.

Harry, always the gentleman, keeps his eyes (with effort) on her face. Unsure of what is going on in her mind before she turns around with a little run and dives headfirst into the deep waters before popping back up and giggling, “Jump in!”

She’s just so...carefree, adventurous. Harry hadn’t felt free in fucking years.

It has him shucking out of all of his clothing, just down to his tight black briefs before he’s diving in, right next to her, and feeling around. He wraps his hand around her ankle to teasingly tug her under with him before they both surface.

As they wad in the water, YN swims over to him, and wraps her legs around his waist, arms around his neck. Her soaking wet hair was dripping and he was breathing heavy, feeling his ribcage expand against her soft tummy.

She murmurs quietly over the light lapping over the water, “You haven’t even looked at me once.”

Harry swallows, feeling like a schoolboy again, “I...I didn’t want to without permission.”

“I want you to look at me,” YN replies, letting her nose nudge his and her eyes searching into his nervous ones.

He nods, closing his eyes when he feels her lips brush his, letting his large palms grip at her sides and pull her closer to his chest. Their lips not breaking when his hands begin to explore the intricate, plush curves of her body.

They don’t do anything else, don’t go any further but he groaning when she traces her fingertips down his muscular, defined abs and thumb rubbing over the trail of light hair leading into his briefs.

After a swim, filled with splashing and dunking, they retired to lay in the grass. Both of their backs, looking up at the clear night sky, moon full and stars glittering against the stark darkness that surrounds it.

YN wriggle until she’s tucked into his side, hand running up and down his chest, as she says, “I’m sorry your date didn’t go as planned. I ruined it.”

“Y’didn’t ruin anything. I...I haven’t felt like this in a long time,” Harry admits as he gives off an embarrassed laugh, “I..I’m a little bit scared, to be honest.”

“Scared? Of what?” YN asks, lips pressing against a tattoo on his bare shoulder.

“Because I already am falling for you,” Harry utters, heart racing and his eyes glued upwards and pointedly not wanting to see her interaction.

“That’s a relief.”

His eyebrows shoot up, “A relief?”

“Yeah, I would say. I’m falling too,” YN whispers before leaning up to connect their lips once more as the moon rises further in the sky and the crickets sing a little louder. They lay like that for a very long time.

Harry went home that night for the first time not feeling the empty weight of his loneliness, instead he feel asleep imagining the beautiful, spontaneous girl next to him in his bed.

It wasn’t going to be the wedding everyone expected for The Harry Styles. **

There was not many invites set out for this event. It wasn’t the wedding of the century or the most expensive wedding of the decade.

Harry would have let his wife-to-be have this day however she wanted without complaint but could say he was very happy that it was going to a be a low-key event. It was going to be some of YN’s family, though she didn’t have much, and Harry’s extended family. No one from work or business. Just family.

They had just gotten finished with the rehearsal dinner, the couple being ordered to separate rooms for the final night before they were married. It was tradition.

Harry had walked YN to her hotel room, they were staying at the venue, and pressed her up against the door. His hand coming to weave into her meticulously curled hair and cupping the back of her head, bring her mouth to his.

He wastes no time in letting his tongue find hers, hips coming to press her further back against the aged wood, and his teeth nipping roughly at her plump bottom lip, “Baby, y’gonna be m’wife tomorrow.”

YN’s eyes twinkle up at him like they did during their first date, “I can’t wait. I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

His fiance laughs kindly as he gets a bit watery eyed, her thumb coming to swipe under his eye, she jokes, “Are you regretting proposing now?”

“Just never knew I could be this happy,” He murmurs against her lips, can’t help but reach around to grip a generous amount of her backside and pulling her flush against him where he’s hardening quickly.

“Mm, down boy. You don’t get the goods until tomorrow,” YN scolds, hand wrapping around his wrist and squeaking when he squeezes harder to get the point across - how much he wants her, all the fucking time.

“Want it now, pet,” Harry whines lowly, grinding his hips forward into her, “Give it t’me, y’mouth, y’cun-”

“Alright lovebirds! Separate now!” Gemma barks to interrupt with the laughter of their childhood friend Chloe.

They pull Harry by the back of the shirt and push him forward towards his room, Gemma smiles back at YN, “Make him put a ring on it before you give it to him!”

“Gem!” Harry scolds with a whine, giving his fiance puppy dog eyes and a pouted bottom lip, “Baby, don’t let them take me!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, I love you!” YN shouts back, waving and smiling to herself as she opens up the door to her room and then locking it after she steps in. It feels weird being in a hotel room without him but she was a bit sweaty and her nerves were wiry so she decided a nice bath would be a good idea.

It’s past two in the morning and she was no less ready to find sleep. The worries of whether everything will be set up properly, if she’ll stutter during her vows, there were just so many things that could go wrong.

Life didn’t even seem real at this moment.

She was marrying her husband at an amazing castle on the coast of italy with family to surround them in love. She had the perfect dress, the perfect flowers, the perfect partner. ***

She had never had it easy. Never thought she would deserve something like this. Harry had made her feel worthy of all this, they deserved to have a happy ever after.

When it hits three in the morning, she can’t stand the quiet of the italian countryside anymore, and is swinging her legs over the bed. She pockets the keycard Harry gave her earlier in the day in her cotton shorts before sneaking out of her room.

After she taps the card to the sensor, the large oak doorknob clicks, she slips in and closes the door as silently as possible. YN steps in to the room, Harry's asleep in his bed on his stomach, face smushed into the pillow.

Harry’s facial expression and body language while he was awake was so severe, serious, intimidating. In sleep, his face was lax and his limbs loose. He looked more boyish when he was dreaming.

YN’s heart aches at how much she loves him, pulling the covers up, and crawling under them until she’s jostling him unintentionally, waking him from his light sleep with a mumble, “Baby, y’okay? Wha’s wrong? Y’alright?”

She giggles at his dazy panic, “I just missed you.”

“Mmm,” Harry agrees, pulling her all the way down and rolling on top of her, “Missed y’more.”

“You’re like a toaster!” YN squeals as he’s encompasses her, laying on her with his weight. His lips finding her pulse point and gently sucking. He was barely awake and he still couldn’t stop himself from her finding comfort in her body.

“I’m warmin’ y’up,” Harry growls against her neck before giving her a lick which has her giggling even more and pushing him off until he falls on his back and she’s swing her legs over his waist, straddling him.

“Y’breakin’ the tradition, m’heart.”

YN shrugs, humming while he palms at her belly, and she (much to his disappointment) ignores where he’s hard and waiting for her.

“I want t’sleep with you,” She pleas sheepishly, leaning all the way over to connect their lips in a quickie peck before she’s moving off of him and into his side.

“Never say no to you, y’know that, dovie,” Harry replies as if it’s obvious (it is).

“We’re getting married tomorrow,” YN whispers into the dark, like it’s a secret just between the two.

Harry nuzzles his nose against her temple, “Never wanted anythin’ more than I want you.”

YN can’t help but sniffle softly, overwhelmed with emotion and love, “You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you.”

“You saved me. You saved me from myself, from where I was going. You gave me hope, feeling again. Y’are m’heart, it fuckin’ beats for you.”

It may not be tradition but YN wouldn’t of had it any other way, sleeping in a magnificent castle on the ethereal coast of Italy in a classic hotel room, and the excitement of their wedding rumbling in both of their stomachs.

“You sneaky bastards!” Bethany screeches, door flinging open with Gemma in tow as they intrude into Harry’s room - finding the couple curled up under the covers with Harry spooning YN with his face tucked into her hair.

“Fuck off,” Harry groans, pulling his fiance closer into his chest as she wriggles awake and whimpers lowly, “Mornin’ lovie.”

“Out out!” Gemma shoos, pulling the covers off of them and the sisters showing no mercy while they yank YN out of the bed and titter about how she needs to start getting ready, no time for cuddles, breaking traditions.

“Bring her back!” He whines childishly, hurling a pillow at his sister’s retreating back as they guide YN back to her own room.

“You’ll see her in a few hours!” Gemma shouts back before slamming the hotel room door and leaving Harry to doze off for just a few more minutes.

Hair and makeup went fast.

It was getting closer and closer to actually walking down the aisle towards her soon-to-be life partner and she’s never felt more nervous.

Rosemary and Bethany were all rushing around - attempting to get ready in the midst of getting the bride ready.

YN didn’t want to look like a doll or have any intense makeup. It was a soft champagne smokey eye with dewy skin and a glowing highlight. A nice lip with a bit of glittering gloss.

Her hair was in big, loose curls that cascaded down her back with the front pulled off of her face. A real white flower holding it back.

Then it was the dress. She was anxious about whether Harry would like it or not. She wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to wear - a massive ball gown, a form-fitting mermaid, or something less over-the-top?

It was a show-stopper that had her memorized when she had first seen it - could automatically imagined herself getting married in Italy with this on her body.

It was also one of the only times she didn’t even care about the price tag - she knew this was it. Yes, it was absurd to spend fifty thousand pounds on a dress but it was the one time she took advantage of Harry’s wealth.

It was flowy, reminding her of the soft waves that lapped at the coast of the italian beaches. It was sophisticated, classy with a sharp starch white that billowed into a dreamlike beauty.

What had made her fall in love was the sheer, detailed sleeves that gave the dress more of a vintage, glamour appearance than the modern tight-fit, overly sexy gowns that most brides wore nowawadays. ***

The train was long and sleek. It would trail beautifully down the aisle before being bustled for the reception. It made her feel confident in a way that an item of clothing next had made her feel before.

“Your tits look amazing,” Bethany compliments before giggling when their grandmum pinches her arm for her crude language.

YN couldn’t find it in her to laugh. She felt like her voice was stuck in her throat and it wasn’t moving.

It started to feel real.

The fact that Harry had proposed, had planned a wedding with her, that he was agreeing to marrying her today.

It was starting to scare her - no, not cold feet but anxiety that he would realize that he could do better than the lowly waitress.

Now, on a normal day, she wouldn’t be having these irrational thoughts. Today was different and it felt too good to be true.

Rosemary and Bethany sense the tension in the room, rub her shoulders, and respect her wishes when she asked for a moment alone.

YN debates picking up her phone, knowing he was busy with his bigger side of the family in the groom’s suite.

She finds herself picking up her mobile, dialing his number, and waiting with bated breath for his syrupy, warm voice to pour through the speaker.

“Everythin’ okay?” He answers, she can hear Anne and Gemma tittering about in the background, yelling at him to get a move on.

“I’m scared,” YN whispers, she holds back her tears because the last thing she wanted to do was ruin her meticulous makeup.

“Leavin’ me at the altar?” Harry jokes lowly, stepping away from prying ears.

YN giggles at his teasing tone, “Never. I…I feel like this is all too good to be true. Like it’s a dream and I’m going to wake up.”

Harry huffs, “Sweetheart. Y’my soulmate, if y’wake up - I’m right there with you, okay? God, if anyone is dreamin’ it’s me. I get t’marry the most beautiful, intelligent -“

Gemma’s voice interrupts him, “You already seduced her into marrying you! We don’t have time for this sweet talk!”

The line goes dead but YN feels much better now.

—

Rosemary was going to be the one walking her down the aisle to her new husband. It didn’t feel right to have anyone else do it as she was the one who raised her into the strong, independent woman she was today.

YN knew she wanted to have an outside wedding.

What would be more perfect than a cool evening in Italy? It was what she had dreamed about since she was little without the idea that it would ever happen.

The weather was absolutely perfect. There was a slight warm breeze that would keep the guests from being overheated, the sun was peeking in and out of vibrant white clouds that complimented the blue sky.

She knew exactly where Harry would be standing.

Underneath a beautiful, dated archway with intricate designs about.

The old material had lovingly grown luscious ivy that kissed the walls in a swirling, natural design.

YN would never forget how beautiful that ivy had looked on her wedding day, encompassing the magnificent that was her soon-to-be husband.***

The venue was open, airy but still gave off an intimacy. There weren't many rows of chairs because not many were invited to share in such an ethereal experience where soulmates have found each other and were announcing their commitment to the world.

“Are you ready, my daughter?” Her grandmother had asked quietly as they lined up behind the expansive, old brick wall that hides them from the rest of the ceremony and crowd. She could hear the whispering as people took their seats.

YN nods, her vocal cords refusing to cooperate as she imagines Harry just as nervous on the opposite side with his family.

When the twinkling, traditional music begins from the small orchestra off to the side - the realization hits her - it is actually happening, right now.

Bethany puts her bouquet in front of her, giving one last meaningful smile at her sister before she takes her cue to turn the corner and begins her walk down the aisle.

It meant Harry was up there, watching as she was about to appear.

Then the orchestra’s melody became louder, more grand in the signaling for the guests to stand and turned toward the back of the room - awaiting the bride’s entrance to the ceremony.

Rosemary takes the initiative to hook their arms and guide her past the wall.

YN clutches onto her own flowers as if it’s her lifeline. ***

Every fear, insecurity, moment of self-doubt dissipates when her eyes connect to Harry’s. There is no longer a doubt in her mind that she wasn’t enough. It was a deep, unbreakable stare as Harry’s mouth parts in a gasp of awe.

He was in a suit that was undeniably him. It displayed how fucking regal he was, how it looked like he was handcrafted into the italian design, how it fit him just perfectly.

It wasn’t a normal tuxedo. It was a perfectly tailored, custom (of course) Gucci suit that excentuate his broad shoulders and the nip of his narrow hips *** ***.

YN can’t even hear the noise of the guests - whispering about how beautiful she looks.

All she can see is her future husband, who swallows harshly as an unexpected sob wracks through his chest at the sight of his bride.

The guests can’t help but look with wide eyes as the man they know - who they’ve barely ever seen smile, let alone cry, cannot control his emotions.

Gemma, who was his ‘best man’ which they deemed ‘best woman’, rubs his back soothingly with a watery smile herself at seeing her brother so estastatic as he looks at the woman of his dreams.

Harry rubs his eyes before meeting hers again.

YN is holding back her own tears as she reaches the end of the aisle.

In tradition as old as time, Harry steps forward and Rosemary passes her hand over to him in a signal that she trusts him to take care of the girl she’s spent meticulous time raising and cultivating into the person she is today.

“I trust you to take care of my girl, she is now yours,” Rosemary tells Harry, her tone is calm and full of emotion as she allows Harry to lean over to kiss her cheek softly.

Harry nods, his usually stable voice shaky as he replies, “I promise, I’ll take care of her until the day I die.”

Rosemary nods before patting his cheek and finding her seat in the audience.

When they are finally standing face-to-face, YN reaches over to thumb off a stray tear that was sliding down his cheek before he turns his head to kiss her thumb then kissing her palm.

Harry didn’t even acknowledge that there was anyone else watching - it was just him and her.

“Y’look breathtaking, can’t believe y’mine,” Harry murmurs trembling, his chest moving faster than usual and it felt like it was nearly impossible for him to catch his breath as he looked at the woman in front of him.

When it comes to the vows, Bethany hands over her small piece of paper that she had scribbled onto and scratched out multiple times - never quite able to get the wording just right and she says just that.

“I couldn’t find the right words to explain my love for you,” She starts, voice raspy as she looks up to see Harry watching her raptly, eyes intense and only focused on her.

“And maybe there aren’t even words to explain it because nothing felt like enough. It is how I feel a lot of the time with you. I’ll never have enough of you because you’re all-consuming to me. I have never felt happiness like I have with you.”

YN is trying to stifle her tears as she continues, Harry reaches out to rub her arm in reassurance then he lightly brushes over the new necklace he had gifted her, “You’re by far the most complex, closed-off person I have ever met. I feel like you’ve allowed me to crack the code and once I did, I wasn’t disappointed. I’ve cracked my own code, you see.”

“The code to explaining my feelings for you will come with my dedication, love, loyalty to be your wife for the rest of our lives.”

Harry can’t help what he does next despite it not falling in line at the ceremony.

His hands come up to cup her jaw and he sears his lips to hers, kissing her with all the passion and emotion he cannot seem to keep in any longer. It’s too much, has to show her in that moment how much he loves her.

A few of his uncles whistle from the crowd as their wives smack their chests in warning.

YN giggles, returning the kiss before pushing him off.

The look in his eyes is one she knows extremely well - it sends shivers down her spine and makes her hair stand on end -, the stare down of lust and want.

“Mr. Styles,” The officiant redirects, nodding towards the piece of paper he has in his hand.

“Yeah, sorry,” Harry mumbles, unraveling the wrinkled notecard he had tucked in his inner suit pocket.

“I knew I was in love with you the moment you spilled that drink on me and undressed me in that dodgy employee bathroom,” Harry says with full sincerity, smirking at YN’s blush when he brings up the way they met.

“I tried to talk myself out of it. It was impossible to fall in love in mere minutes of meeting someone but it was the truth. I knew after our first date that I wanted y’to be m’wife. I knew after the second that I wanted y’to be the mother of my babies one day. And by the third date, I was planning on buying you a ring.”

“It sounds insane because it is. I’ve never been an impulsive, spur-of-the-moment, hopeful person before you. You made me throw all that out of the window, you make me feel alive, and when I tell you that you saved me. You saved me, m’love.”

“There is a lot of uncertainty in this world but I can tell you one thing that is absolutely fuckin’ certain -”

“Harry,” YN hisses with an eye-roll at his crude language.

“The one thing that is absolutely certain in this world is that I will always love you, always take care of you, and always do everythin’ in m’power to make you happy.”

The guests in the chairs are quite speechless.

They’d never heard such passionate, meaningful vows from a couple.

This was not what they were expecting of Harry who had never once put his heart on his sleeve and right now he’d laid it all out on the table.

“YN LN, do you agree to take Harry Edward Styles as your husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant asks, voice ringing against the walls of the castle.

YN has to take a big breath before she replies in a strong, firm voice as her eyes bore into Harry’s, “I do.”

“Harry Edward Styles, do you agree to take YN MN LN as your wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant repeats.

Harry, in ever typical fashion, in his loud, booming voice replies, “Of course I fuckin’ do.”

The guests in the audience laugh lightly as the officiant states, “I now announce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Styles. You may now kiss your bride.”

It doesn’t take more than a second for Harry to step forward, grip her face and pull her in for a kiss, it doesn’t matter that their family is there to him as he licks into her mouth which is bordering on obscene before YN brings it back to a softer, more appropriate one.

He whispers against his lips, barely audible, “Can’t believe y’my fucking wife, m’fucking heart.”

As people are moving towards the reception area, Harry manages to find a secluded area of the outside gardens where there is no one in sight.

“Baby, baby, y’married me,” Harry is nearly chanting, like he’s in disbelief, at the same time he’s cornering his new bride up against the brick wall with his mouth trailing sloppy wet kisses down her shoulder.

“Mmm, it was everything I ever imagined, it was so beautiful. Everything I had imagined for our day,” YN replies blissfully, hands running carefully through his meticulously styled hair.

When he bends down and lifts up the bottom of her dress, she giggles when he ducks his head underneath all the tulle and fabric, finding a very skimpy pair of white lace panties that are supposed to be saved for later.

“Harry,” YN scolds half-heartedly, it would only take one person to find them in this undeniable inappropriate situation but she willingly let him push her further against the brick and take one of her legs over his shoulder.

“Baby, these fuckin’ panties,” He groans, muffled by the barrier of the heavy fabric, and she hisses when pulls them down to the thick of her thighs and his mouths finds her center within moments.

“Fu-fuck,” She hisses, trying to keep her moans down as he wastes no time in pushing in two thick fingers to curve towards her front as his tongue laps quickly and sloppily on her clit until it feels like she’s about to explode.

“S’right, fuckin’ m’cunt. I have it f’the rest of my life, found the best one,” Harry mutters against her wet skin, almost to himself like he can’t even believe the words, before he’s back to speeding up his fingers to match the rhythm of his mouth until she’s quivering for a whole other reason now.

It takes a few minutes for Harry to calm himself down enough to be able to go into the reception, he tells YN that he can’t even look at her right now because if he does he’ll be perpetually hard throughout the whole thing.

The reception is more of a dinner than a party.

Fairy lights strung above the two long tables where decadent, mouth-watering food was served with the orchestra playing light, melodic music in the background. ***

It was perfect.

Their family drank, laughed, ate, and were merry.

Everyone was basking in each other’s company, congratulating the new couple, and enjoying all the beauty that was surrounding them at the castle.

There is not much more to say than that.

The honeymoon suite was located on one of the highest floors of the castle, away from all of the other wedding guests and staff.

YN was sure it was beautiful but from the moment she was carried over the threshold, she didn’t see anything but her new husband - he was blinding in his beauty. His skin was glowing, a slight sheen of sweat from the reception, and the still warm bite in the breeze. ***

“Sweetheart, baby. Please let m’undress you, y’my wife,” Harry pleas softly, his hands are everywhere - her face, her shoulders, hips - continuously wandering as if it’s impossible to find one place to settle.

“Please, c’mon. I need you, H,” She agrees, letting him take down the zipper on the side of her gown.

The expensive garment discarded on the floor in a pool of fabric as he fully takes in her lingerie set. ***

“Fuck me, darlin’,” Harry chuckles in amazement, fingertips tracing over the delicate lace that was stitched by Alessandro Michele himself for the bride, "Y’body is a god damn dream, look at you. - fuck.”

“Please,” His wife whimpers, voice desperate as his light and careful touches are no longer enough.

She needs him close, she needs her husband.

“Okay, okay,” He simpers, moving her back until he can have her right where he wants her, on her back in the middle of the massive, blanket-ridden bed - her white lingerie standing out against the dark duvet.

Harry had always imagined this night.

To have someone laid out underneath him.

No rush, no urgency but to truly, physically show that person through touch that you love them.

He starts near her collarbone, feathery heated kisses that warm her skin as she welcomes him with heavy weight on top of her so eager he wasn’t even undressed yet.

When his mouth finds her nipples through the sheer fabric, she pushes her chest up in encouragement as he bites at the nubs with sharp but careful teeth that wet the fabric.

“It feels so good, baby,” YN mewls, letting him nip and suck for a moment before pushing him up until he’s rid of every inch of fabric that had been covering his body.

“M’always gonna make y’feel good. I’ll fuck you wherever, wehenver cause you’re m’wife,” Harry grunts, impatiently reaching behind to unclasp the corset until her breasts spill free and jiggle in a way that makes his mouth water.

“Wait, wait,” YN puts a hand to his cheek when he already has his mouth darting out to lap at her hardened nipple.

“Don’t make me wait, m’heart,” Harry grumbles with a furrowed brow, his hand still unable to stop from reaching up to palm at her full breasts, thumbs rolling the nipples as he stares fiercely up at her.

“You know how you got me a present?” YN murmurs, biting back a whimper when a zip of electricity shoots from her nipple down to where she’s already dripping for him, “I got you something too.”

Harry’s face relaxes, it’s like he finds his grounding again, “Baby, didn’t need t’get me anythin’. Y’the best fuckin’ gift I could have gotten. Does look beautiful sittin’ between y’tits though.”

His new wife giggles, “Well I really hope you like mine….it’s non-refundable.”

He looks at her with confusion even more so when she wriggles down her panties and flips on her belly with her arms resting under chin.

Of course, Harry finds it immediately and she can tell by the deep, pleased growl he emits from the back of his throat, “You fuckin’ didn’t.”

“I did.”

It was his name, small and cursive right on her bum cheek.

After they got engaged, he went out and got her name tattooed on his pec - much to her dismay.

She had never talked about returning the favor and had kept it the ultimate surprise.

“I think I almost just came from this,” Harry rasps, his fingers tracing the small ink over and over in awe, “Baby, y’put m’name on your bum. It makes y’look like my property, sweetheart.”

“I am yours,” YN giggles, yelping when she feels his teeth graze the sensitive skin before he’s suckling and licking at his name - can’t take his eyes off the beauty of her.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ are,” He agrees whole-heartedly, his hands calming to cup and palm at her cheeks as he fawns over his wedding present, “This is the best present I’d ever fuckin’ received, fuck - never goin’ to get over this.”

He doesn’t want to look away from the tattoo but knows how he wants to fuck his wife for the first time so he flips her onto her back once again, lips finding hers.

She whispers, hand wrapping around his cock, “Still have to pay you back for earlier.”

“No blowies tonight, pet. We’re goin’ to do it the right way, m’gonna make love to you,” Harry murmurs, his lips finding hers as he bats her hand away to grasp at his thick base. He teases the sensitive head over her clit and entrance a few times before slowly sinking in.

“Ohh, been ready for you all day. You looked like a fucking wet dream standing at the alter, waiting for me,” YN sighs happily, wriggling her hips to adjust a bit before she spreads her legs and lets Harry rest in between them, “Ever since I saw you in the suit, I’ve been waiting.”

“Yeah, baby? I can tell, y’so wet, warm f’me,” Harry praises, his movements are slow and unrushed, their hips meeting gently as he pushes in each time with care, “Can’t believe y’gonna let me have this for the rest of m’life.”

“I love you so so much,” She utters breathlessly as he continues to make her feel so fucking full - emotionally and physically, “Best husband ever, can’t believe it.”

Harry chuckles tenderly, “Baby, I need y’to come soon. I’m so close, never come this quick. The thought of y’being my wife is making it impossible to last then with the tatto-”

YN soothes his hair in understanding, pushing up to meet their lips and allow their tongues to dance as he lifts her thigh against his hip to thrust in with a bit more force. His thumb comes to her clit to spur her along which doesn’t take much with how aroused she’s been all day.

Harry follows right after, much to his embarrassment of his lack of stamina but can you blame him? He has the hottest fucking wife on the planet.

“Round two?” YN smirks as he leans down to pepper kisses all over her cheeks. She knows the night has just begun.

“Mmm,” He agrees instantly, “Now that we made love, m’gonna fuck y’from behind so I can watch my name jiggle on your arse.”

And that’s what he does. It takes nearly no rebound time, flips her on her belly again to gaze and worship his name as he fills out in no time again. His fingers occasionally dip back between her thighs to tease at her entrance before he swipes her own wetness on the tattoo to lick it off.

She’s tired, exhausted from the events of the day but wants to reach that last orgasm before sleep overtakes them.

On her hands and knees, Harry doesn’t pound into her like he normally would.

Instead, he eases back in with eyes darting between his wedding present and where they’re connecting, his thumb diligently rubbing hard and steady circle on her nerves.

“C’mon wifey, need y’to not be stubborn,” Harry goads, feeling his release coming again - he pinches her clit with just enough pressure that has her whining before Harry has to hold her up by the waist as she quivers.

It has him finishing right after with a gentle smack to her bumcheek, the skin already tender and sore from all of his attention on the spot as it was.

“I loved your vows,” YN murmurs against his chest. He had wrapped her up in one of the plush blankets and he had pulled on a tight pair of briefs and they were laying on a lounge chair on the blacony under the italian stars.

“I loved yours just as much, y’did crack the code m’love ‘cause now I’m yours forever,” Harry rumbles, his voice raspy with drowsiness.

Little did they know that in a few short years, they would be back under these italian stars with knowledge that they were growing a little product of their love in her belly.

A litte baby named Ivy, just like the beautiful, lucious nature that had decorated the place in magneificent as they spoke vows - dedicating their lives to each other.

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ayamturd · 3 years

Text

late│technoblade

summary: three times you said i love you, and the one time technoblade says it back

prompt: “I’d do anything for you, whether or not you ask me to”

warnings: fluff and major angst, blood and death descriptions, dsmp spoilers

pairing: in-game romantic!technoblade

a/n: this is my entry for @burntcilantro‘s 500 writing event!! much love and congratulatory to min, they’re an amazing writer and an even better person (they’re so nice, give them the support they deserve)

also i separated some of the dsmp events and spaced them out (so there’s more time between for plot purposes lol)

wc: (2.0k) - m.list

“Why are you so stupid?”

You were sat on top of a chest, holding one leg with your arms while the other was currently being wrapped by Technoblade. While you giggled at his insult, you winced once he tightened the gauze on your ankle with a glare.

“It’s not funny, y/n.” He leaned down to bite off the rest of the wrapping, finishing the fold as you huffed at his seriousness.

“I told you to watch the house, not climb onto the roof and play a fun game of risk. What were you thinking?”

His stare was heavy and made you feel little as he looked down at you. The tone of the room changed as you lost the humor in the situation, his concern overpowered by the anger laced in his voice.

“I just wanted to help,” you stated, turning your face away, discouraged, with your arms crossed. “You’ve been getting the all the resources lately and haven’t let me even step off the damn property.”

Looking down, you fiddled with your fingers as to avoid his gaze. “I wanted to try and fix the wood panelings that have been leaking, that’s all.”

The silence was harsh, and you swallowed deeply at how uncomfortably stiff the air became. Technoblade opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it shut with no words to voice.

With a shaky breath, you gripped the edge of the wood and slowly lowered yourself onto your foot; you didn’t plan on staying here just so he couldn’t say anything more. Technoblade was quick to steady his arms around you in case you fell, but you immediately pushed his hand away aggressively and stood with all your weight on your healthy foot.

Arms out to balance, as you tried to take the first step on your bad foot, you crumpled into your self with a yelp from the pain and collapsed. Ready as always, Techno caught you from behind and guided you to the nearest chair.

You flinched from the small movement but sighed once sitting again. Techno crouched in front of you to check how you physically were, but your eyes were closed shut as you tried to collect your breathing.

“Y/n,” Techno call out. Calming yourself down, you opened your eyes to meet his; he was much more sincere before, his face soft as he spoke gently to you.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” Looking down, Technoblade paused as to gather his thoughts before explaining himself further.

“I know I’ve been overbearing since the attempted execution,” you reached a hand towards his cheek when he mentioned the recent event, which he leaned into as he continued with closed eyes, “but please know it’s from a place of concern. I just- I don’t want anything to happen to you. I can’t let anything happen to you. I-I…”

“I know. Trust me, I know.” You spoke for him as you pulled him into your chest, hugging his large frame as best as you could. He relaxed into your hold with a sigh of relief.

“I love you, Techno.” You kissed the top of his head, and he only burrowed himself deeper into the hug.

“I’m so sorry, love.”

Technoblade was hunched over on the front lawn, hands on his head while trembling from the overwhelming pain of the voices. He whimpered at your words, indicating he heard you to some extent.

He had come home, alone, and fell to his knees at the sight of you when you opened the door. Immediately, you had rushed over to him and skid to your own knees to comfort him, but he grunted from your attempts to touch him; even when under the influence, he was still conscious enough to fear for your own safety relative to the blind rage of the voices.

You had tried talking to him, attempted to get him to give you any context to what was causing his anger, which he answered with snarling growls in return. “Tommy… left… betrayed. Chose government.”

While broken into murmured words, you understood instantly and tried to bring him back in spite needing to quench your own anger from Tommy’s departure. You rested your palms into the snow, lowering your head as much as possible to meet his bowed head.

You peered up at him despite his own eyes screwed shut from the unbearable chaos that roared within his head, and called out to him as softly as you could. It was a stretch, but you hoped you could soothe him down by talking.

“Hey bubs, just listen to my voice, alright? You hear me now yes? You can understand what I’m saying?” Patiently waiting, you watched him closely until he gave the smallest nod, fists still pushed against his skull and twisting from the ache.

“That’s good, that’s really good, love. You hear my voice, now listen to my words.” Slowly, you leaned close enough to whisper to him directly.

“I’m here, okay? I’m so sorry about Tommy, I know how much you cared for him. I still care for him too, and I know it hurts right now, but rest assured I’m still here. I’m here Techno, and I’m never leaving you.”

With clenched teeth, he let out a sob at your declaration and pushed his head against you. You took his permission to touch him promptly, gripping him with as much strength as you could carry so he felt stable and secure.

You squeezed him, desperate to ground him from slipping further, and rocked the both of you. He released a shuttered breath, and you kissed his skin gently.

“I love you, you know? I will always be here and I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

He clutched you with his entire being, your words and presence more than he could ever ask and want.

“Why do you have to be too reckless for your own good?”

You grinned widely at his words, smile almost sadistic as you glanced at him with your arms propped on the axe you carried above your shoulders.

“What ever could you mean?” Despite the roll of his eyes, he did nothing to hide his own amusement to your eagerness to the upcoming destruction you were to bring. He chuckled, his deep laughter making you smile more softly to how genuine he was as you walked besides him. Hand raised to wave his rocket launcher, he focused ahead proud.

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” Turning to look at you again, you stared at him adoringly and smirked slightly while bashful to his confident manner. “We are indeed.”

It became relatively silent as you walked through the layered snow, feet crunching from your steady pace. You continued to take random glances at him, Technoblade doing the same until you both heard a loud groan.

“My god, you two are insufferable, I can’t deal with this right now.” Dream sneered at you specifically, as if you were the cause for his own discomfort, and walked through you both.

“I’ll meet you guys there instead, but hurry.” Swiftly, he pulled out an ender pearl and threw it a few yards ahead towards the portal, his figure disappearing altogether.

You stared in disbelief from his actions until a cough interrupted your thoughts once more. “You know what,” Phil avoided looking at you both, his hands tapping together awkwardly as he walked ahead as well but turned to address you while moving backwards.

“I’ll see you guys there too, just, be sure to be quick?” You both nodded wordlessly, and he took his leave in fast haste.

Standing there alone, you risked another glance at him and met his eyes, laughing loudly at the circumstances.

Technoblade held a hand to his face, body shaking from his laughter while you were endlessly giggling, holding your stomach from the pain. Eventually, your fits faded with large smiles, and you faced him with a shake of your head.

“I didn’t realize we’d be one of those couples.” Technoblade sighed, though you could tell it was for play, and nodded. “A shame really, I never thought this day would come.”

You giggled again, and chose to move closer, tilting your head upwards at him with a sweet beam while leaning onto your axe. He gave you a small smile in return, however his faded immediately after.

Lifting his open hand, he cupped your cheek and bent down to kiss your forehead, touching yours together after with his eyes closed. “Promise me you’ll be safe? I trust you to protect yourself, but for me, stay safe when things start to go bad?”

While you knew it was impossible to guarantee you’d stay away from the majority of the danger, you knew better than to leave his concern unanswered and open.

“I promise,” you murmured, “for you, I promise.”

He pulled you against his chest this time, engulfing you completely and holding the back of your head earnestly to his heart.

“I love you,” you voiced, your words muffled into his armor and coat. He hummed while looking ahead, his eyes trained on the glowing portal that called towards him. This was a war he refused to leave with mercy, the price of your peaceful lives together on the line.

“No…”

There was too much blood. The thick liquid stained every surface and soaked through his coat that he pushed against your wound.

Internally panicking from your tight expressions of discomfort, Technoblade desperately searched through his inventory for something, anything, that could heal or at the very least help you. He was forced to face the reality that he used all his potions during the midst of battle and combat. He couldn’t do anything.

“Why, why why,” he snarled, his eyes clouding with an outset of tears he couldn’t care for. “Why are you so stupid.” His voice caught in his throat from his conflicted emotions and he tightened his hold on the fabric pushed against your stomach; the pain had faded at this point, and you were numb to the constant pressure he tried to hold.

“I’m so sorry, love. I lied.” Your voice was light and strained, but Technoblade refused to accept the situation for what it was. He turned to a perched crow, screaming at it to get Phil and scaring it away with a slash of his sword, before tucking his head down in an almost silent plea.

“Why do you have to be too reckless for your own good?” he whispered. Though he tried to be delicate, he couldn’t help how tight he held your hand.

“I’d do anything for you, whether or not you ask me to.” You gave a tired grin as your eyes began to droop, hand tightening on his, however incredibly weak in comparison.

“I asked you to be safe,” he cried, body stricken with grief as he abandoned his hold on your stomach and instead shakily held your face, your own blood smearing against your skin from his callous fingers. “I needed you safe.”

You placed a hand over his, using all your strength to relish in his touch and kissing the inner of his palm. “Yet you needed my love more.”

He choked out a sob from your admittance, and pulled you into his chest, your body limp, as he rocked you slightly. “I’ll always be there for you, and love you more than I could for my own safety.”

The ruins echoed the wails of a tormented heart on the broken landscape of a haunted battlefield that called for death and devastation. The smoke and clouds of destruction reigned above, and despite the final end to the corrupted nation that was built on nothing but lies and deceit after a helpless man’s death, Technoblade couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I love you,” he uttered, the words he struggled for oh so long to express finally free from its cage. “I love you, y/n. I love you so much.”

His words fell on deaf ears, and he screamed in agony at the truth that laid before him.

He was too late.

#technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #technoblade x gn!reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #dream smp x reader #dream smp x you #dsmp x reader #dsmp x you

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voiceless-terror · 3 years

Note

#21 and #46 for kiss prompts, maybe? I can't get enough your writing tbf

kiss on a dare- a little jonmartin season one fluff <3 All in all, this is one of Tim’s better Friday nights.

It’s been ages since Jon’s hung out with them, and never with Martin along for the ride. The Archives had been off to a messy start after the Dog Incident and Jon’s subsequent panic over the state of the place. What used to be an ‘every couple of weeks’ tradition turned into an almost-never one as the newly-assembled team got buried under more and more boxes of dusty statements. He’s pretty astounded that Jon agreed to dinner and drinks- although it’s a Friday night, Jon’s been apt to stay weekends more often than not. He figured if he arranged for it at one of theirs instead of a pub, Jon would be more likely to come. He always preferred less crowded settings.

No, the real feat was getting him to come knowing Martin was invited.

Jon’s been getting...better around him, that’s true. He was perfectly fine at his birthday party, going off about emulsifiers for a solid fifteen minutes. Tim’s always been rather fond of Jon’s infodumping, and if he’s comfortable enough to do it around Martin that must be a good sign. Despite an initial freeze-out, he now thanks Martin for his tea and saves his most pointed comments for Martin’s more egregious screw-ups (and even those have less bite than usual). Still, a colleague does not a friend make, and Jon’s never been good at opening up to people he doesn’t know all that well. However, Jon just nodded at the Martin caveat, seemingly not giving it a second thought. And Martin didn’t seem all that worried either.

Whatever, Tim’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He’s just happy they’re all here, having a good time. It’s late and Jon’s had enough wine to keep a smile on his face. He missed that. It’s nice how easily they slot together, even with all of the upheaval and a new addition. Martin himself isn’t so shy after a drink or two, more willing to engage in banter and keep the conversation going. This is what it should be like all the time, Tim thinks. Shitty archive job or not.

It’s when they retire to the living room, drinks in hand, that he finally notices the little grin on Sasha’s face. And Tim, knowing exactly what that means, is both a little afraid and excited. Four-drink-Sasha has always been a host unto herself.

“Why don’t,” she begins, a hiccup interrupting her as she slumps into an armchair. Tim snickers and ignores the glare this earns him. “Why don’t we play one of our old games-”

Tim raises a glass in agreement as Jon, predictably, groans. Martin looks quizzically between them. Ah yes, time for your initiation, Marto! Not that they’ve played this in about a year or so, of course, but it's always fun to revisit the good old days.

“Seriously? We’re not children-”

Tim gives Jon a playful slap on the back that sends him flying forward on the couch, spilling a bit of wine on Sasha’s rug. He hopes she doesn’t notice. “C’mon, it’ll be fun, boss! Nothing like it to break the ice, and there’s definitely some ice that needs breaking.”

Martin blinks, hand tightening on his glass. He looks nervous, like he always does when he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on. Which is a shame, because he’s been so nice and open all night. Even chatting with Jon. “Sorry, what are you talking about?”

Jon rolls his eyes, giving Martin a commiserating look. “Truth or dare.”

Martin lets out a disbelieving laugh, relaxing minutely. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, really.” Jon’s foot reaches out to shove at Tim’s leg. “Tim loves pulling ridiculous stunts-”

“-Hey, you loved the karaoke idea-”

“You sing?”

“No.” Tim would dispute that, but the look on Jon’s face declares it a bad idea. “And Sasha likes to ask probing questions.”

Sasha preens, though the remark was certainly not meant as a compliment. “What can I say, I’m the Queen of Truth-”

Tim snorts. “Hacking and blackmail more like-”

“Anyway-” Sasha sings out as Tim dodges a pillow to the face. “Tim….truth or-”

“Dare, always dare.”

“You’re absolutely no fun,” Sasha pouts, though it doesn’t take long for her eyes to narrow in thought. There’s very little Tim won’t do, but that’s a dangerous look. “I dare you...to text…”

“Text? You can do better than that, Sash.”

“Text...Elias.” That’s more like it.

Jon immediately scowls. “Tim, no-”

“I don’t have his number-”

“I do-”

“Sasha!”

“Jon, it’ll be fine! He’ll just say ‘oops, wrong number’ afterwards, no harm, no foul-”

Tim takes this time to snatch at Sasha’s phone, sitting precariously on the arm of her chair. She doesn’t notice, too busy gesturing at Jon empathically. He scrolls through her contact list.

“And then it’ll come down on me-”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “How is he going to connect it to you? It’s not like he knows we’re all together-”

“Done!” Tim tosses the phone back onto the couch with a little grin. Sasha blinks, looking down in confusion.

“Wait, that’s mine-”

The screech and smack on the arm at Tim’s hastily fired off ‘u up? ;)’ to Elias Bouchard were definitely deserved. He’s sure he’ll face consequences for that in the near future, but Jon and Martin’s immediate laughter had been well worth it. Shouldn’t dish it if you can’t take it, that’s Tim’s motto.

In the next round, Tim manages to get Martin to confess to his poetry-writing habit, an admission that has him turning an attractive shade of red. Jon just giggles quietly to himself as Martin reads through one of his poorer attempts at rhyme saved to the notes of his mobile. Tim watches the two of them; Martin keeps looking up at Jon throughout it all like he’s the only one in the room and god, his crush is so evident and yet Jon is oblivious, smiling at him like he’s not on the receiving end of some of the most loaded glances of all time.

Martin gets Sasha to admit to her most recent perusal through confidential institute records, which turned out to be previous archival expenses (solely to find out what Elias would cover with their new jobs, of course). At first glance, there wasn’t much in the way of extravagant meals or supplies, but a bit more digging had her finding Gertrude’s extensive travel budget. For an old woman, she certainly was a globe-trotter.

“All I’m saying, Jon, is that we could definitely do with a trip to China-”

“Yes, I’ll be sure to ask Elias about Gertrude’s trip to China, something I certainly shouldn’t know about, and he’ll have to let us go.”

“Refill?” Martin’s on his feet, taking Jon’s wine glass in his hand and Tim watches as their fingers brush- go Martin!- and yet Jon just nods his thanks, completely oblivious to the seduction taking place before him. Tim’s given it some thought and honestly, he thinks they’d make a cute couple. An odd pair, for sure, but Jon’s so soft once you get to know him, and Martin’s one of the funniest, sweetest guys he knows. They could be good for each other.

“Well, I still think it’s worth a try.” Sasha’s eyes are starting to blink heavily - she’ll be out for the count tonight, for sure. “Anyway, it’s your turn. I dare you-”

“I didn’t even pick!” Jon says, though he doesn’t seem too put out by it. This is the Jon Martin should know, the easy-humored, smiling man sprawled out before him. He’s even taken his little sweater vest and tie off, looking more like the familiar friend from research Tim knows so well. It warms his heart.

“Fine. Truth or dare?”

“Dare, I suppose. Seeing as how you already have one queued up.”

“I dare you to...to...to give a little kiss to someone in this room.” She waves her glass around imperiously. “Anyone you like.”

Silence. Tim gives Sasha a warning look that she ignores. She’s well in her cups, and he supposes any sense of propriety has gone out the window along with her sobriety. He’s actually seen Jon give quite a few kisses on a particularly memorable New Years Eve, but that was a different time. He doesn’t want him to feel pressured, not when he’s just starting to open back up.

“Jon doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to-”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, you remember-”

“It doesn’t matter- Jon, you can skip this one if you like, we can think of something else-”

“Tim, it’s alright.” Jon puts a hand on his arm to stop the argument, and there’s a strange look in his eyes that can’t be attributed to liquor. It’s mock-serious, almost playful paired with his little sly smile. He thinks for a moment that Jon’s going to lean in and kiss him but instead he gets up from the sofa in a smooth motion and walks across the room to Martin, who’s just turned around with two glasses in hand. He freezes in place as Jon gets on his very tippy toes, takes his face in both hands, and kisses him.

Jonathan Sims. Kissing Martin Blackwood. Against a kitchen counter. Martin Blackwood, who, once he’s over his surprise, puts the drinks down behind him and kisses right the hell back, arms winding around Jon’s waist like they belong there.

What. The. Fuck.

_____

“The leg bit was a nice touch.”

“Hmm?” Jon’s in Martin’s lap, sprawled out on his couch back at his own flat, eyes closed in contentment as he leans back against the other man’s chest. Martin’s got one hand in his hair, and the other entwined with Jon’s, twirling the black ring on his finger. It’s heavenly.

“Thought you were trying to climb me.”

“Well, you usually pick me up at that point, make it easier.”

“Sorry, next time.” Kissing Jon’s always fun but kissing him out in the open, in front of their friends? Was that something they could do now? “Should we tell them we’ve been dating for two months?”

Two whole months since that night in Document Storage when Jon had finally let his guard down. When Martin had held him in his arms. Jon was very particular about keeping up appearances, though that all seemed to have crumbled tonight. Sasha rather fashioned herself a matchmaker, and Jon didn’t do anything to dissuade the fact. It’d been nice, having their relationship to themselves, the secret of it, the obliviousness of their friends who still thought Jon only tolerated him. It’s not that he wanted to keep it that way, of course, but it was nice while they were still figuring it out.

“If you’d like. Maybe it’s time.” Jon tilts his head back, giving Martin a fond look. “Though I know how much you enjoy playing the lovesick fool-”

“There’s something so poetic about unrequited love, yknow?”

“All the more when it’s requited, I’d say.” Martin couldn’t argue with that. He leans down to give Jon’s forehead a peck.

“Hmm. Give it a few more weeks. Act out the honeymoon phase for a bit, it’ll be fun.”

And when Jon squeezes his hand and smiles back, Martin thinks he won’t need to do much acting at all.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31318724

#tma #the magnus archives #my writing #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #fluff #kiss prompts #i have a little backstory to how they got together in this one that maybe one day i will write #but heres a lil something something #jonmartin secret dating is fun okay #v enjoyable #jaybirdsfall #reblogs appreciated <3

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yandere-sins · 3 years

Note

Hello! How are you? May I pls request the prompts scratches and collar for Sakusa Kiyoomi for the yandere writing challenge thingy? I hope this is alright! Thank you <3

Thanks for requesting!! Sakusa is one of my favorites actually, so I am really excited to write for him! uwu Please enjoy!

Scratches - “Try that again sweetheart, I dare you.” (I don’t want to overlap prompts too much, so I am doing just this one!)

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Living with Kiyoomi had never been easy.

When you two got married, you’d been quite intimidated by him after your husband wouldn’t look at you even once the whole day. You thought to yourself about how much he must have hated you, considering he only agreed because you two had been promised since your childhood. This marriage didn’t seem like something he was interested in, and the moment you were ‘unloaded’ at his home, you felt like the strangest organism in the whole world.

Nonetheless, you tried to be liked. If you at least couldn’t be a nuisance to him, you thought he might accept you as his partner. But all your attempts backfired gloriously. He wouldn’t eat your cooking, clean over your cleaning, ignore you after he came home from training. For the first year or so, he wouldn’t even take you to one of his matches. You were sure other spouses were allowed to go, so why not you?

But you got used to it. You had to, somehow, or else you probably would have never stopped feeling unloved and unwanted. It wasn’t what you expected, hearing about love all this time, but you didn’t have a bad life by his side, at least. His accounts were filled with money, food was delivered fresh to your doorstep every day, and though you didn’t know anyone in the city that you two settled in, you got along well enough with your neighbors, so you didn’t feel too lonely.

And what you least expected, once you accepted that you and Kiyoomi could never be an item, he started to relax too. Had you been too much? Maybe pushing him too far without realizing? Intruding on him? Or perhaps he had just been told to be nicer to you by his parents, but your surprise was great when he joined you to watch TV one evening.

Given, he didn’t speak a word and didn’t seem too interested in the show you were watching. There also were about two seats free between you, but it was a start. And gradually, your relationship improved.

»»———————— ♡

Nervously, you looked at your outfit, wondering if it was too much. Kiyoomi had never asked you to dress up to accompany him before, scowling whenever you decided to try and impress him with your fashion sense or asked to go with him. Even now, you knew that asking you to come and meet sponsors was just a way to look good in other people’s eyes; he even had a suit delivered to him that day. It wasn’t you who was wanted. It was the image of being married to someone. But as his partner, maybe that was the only thing you could do to please your husband.

“Are you ready?” he asked through the door, not daring to step into your room. He never had entered it ever since you moved in, and you wondered if it was because he disliked you so much or because he feared you were ‘dirty’. But you gave yourself an encouraging nod in the mirror, quickly making your way out. “All done!”

You didn’t expect him to stand right in front of the closed door as you opened it, almost running into him but stopping at the last second. “Do I look fine?” you asked, noticing him appraising you over the rim of his white mask. He looked comically like that, suited up yet wearing gloves and mask as if he was going to clean, but even so, you had to give it to his looks that he was handsome. You didn’t doubt your own attractiveness, but the curt, “It’s alright,” he muttered did sting.

»»———————— ♡

Had you known how exhausting these kinds of events were, you would have almost been thankful that he never took you with him before. Giving it all you had sure was taxing when you never did it before, but you wanted oh-so-badly to be accepted by Kiyoomi’s side. You didn’t even notice your own mental exhaustion until you finally had a chance to sit down.

Alone, again.

Maybe you simply weren’t fit for this kind of life. You didn’t know much about volleyball, and there were many weird insider jokes you didn’t understand. Everyone appeared so friendly, some faces still familiar from the wedding, yet you couldn’t help but notice the pity in their eyes. They were all thinking the same thing, you were sure. Just how pitiful you were to be so unluckily married to a man who never seemed interested in what you two had.

“What’s the long face for, hm?” you suddenly heard a cheerful voice, something cold being pressed to your cheek and startling you. You looked up in confusion, only to be blinded by a warm and cheerful grin, the light of the room being reflected through a water bottle and accentuating his features even more.

“O-Oh,” you stuttered, reaching up for the drink he held out to you. “I didn’t see you coming, Atsumu-san. I’m sorry, I was in thoughts...”

“No offense, but you don’t seem to have much fun,” he sighed, plopping down next to you. “It’s such a shame Omi-Omi never shows you off, yer so cute, you know? Makes it much easier to endure parties like these!”

Laughing it off, you found yourself mesmerized by how carefree Atsumu seemed. To you, all of this was a big deal, and you had always assumed it was the same for everyone. But apparently, more people shared your sentiment of the time seemingly dragging out. Without noticing, you chuckled, and Atsumu’s eyes flitted over to you before he straightened his back briefly, crossing his legs. Smirk falling over his lips, you almost caught yourself gasping at how gorgeous he looked in the ambient lighting around you two.

“That’s much better. Ya should laugh more!”

Feeling the warmth spread through your face, you quickly cleared your throat, looking away as to not stare. For a moment there, you thought he really looked like an angel, making you feel at peace around him. “I just- You know- You call him Omi-Omi?” you changed the topic quickly, trying to hide the awestruck expression on your face by hiding behind your hand a bit.

“Huh? Oh yeah. Wouldn’t recommend it, he doesn’t really like it, but it’s fun teasing him, ya know? He gets all-” Reaching up, Atsumu pushed his brows together and put on his best impression of Kiyoomi. “‘Don’t call me that, you Idiot. Work on your serve if you have so much time.’ That’s what he says to me! I’m just trying to be friendly...”

Shaking your head slowly, you couldn’t hold back your laugh as you listened to him gush on about your husband treating him ‘unfairly’. Part of you felt sad having to hear it from a third person, never having been able to collect experiences with him yourself. Still, you were also relieved to see he wasn’t just treating you so coldly. “You’re so funny, Atsumu-san,” you chuckled, and he finally stopped talking, relaxing next to you after his tirade.

“There we go,” he mumbled, and you felt his hand fall to your head, giving it some pats. It made your heart grow to receive the affection, slowly but surely making you realize you had been missing fooling around and laughing or even being touched gently for a change. “Don’t let him get to you, ya hear me? Or I’ll come and kick his ass for you!”

“Who’s ass are you kicking?” you both were suddenly interrupted, and knowing the voice, you looked up. Shame hitting you, you stood up, Atsumu’s hand falling from you as you slipped out from under it, facing your husband cautiously. “Kiyoomi, you’re back!” you mumbled, wondering if your mood change was too noticeable. “Yeah, we’re leaving,” he announced, ready to go.

“Don’t just go around touching other people’s spouses, Atsumu,” he warned his colleague sharply, his arm coming around your back. Still, not even the tip of his glove touched you, much less gentle than Atsumu did.

“Mood-killer,” you heard Atsumu complain. “Good night, [Name]!” he called after you, and you graced him with a brief smile thrown over your shoulder, waving after him while you let yourself be led out by your husband.

»»———————— ♡

The ride home was almost as tiring as the evening itself, and the streetlights passing you as you looked out the window weren’t enough to keep you awake. It was a long drive, but the next thing you noticed was a warm body carrying you upstairs from the garage. “Bastard,” you heard a voice, slowly but surely regaining your senses.

“Kiyoomi?” you asked meekly, rubbing your eyes. Blinking a few times, when you looked up, you were met with a disgusted glare staring down at you, instantly making you shrivel into yourself. A flight instinct set in, and only now you noticed he was carrying you through the hallway of your house, not bothering being gentle with the bathroom door once he reached it.

He seemed furious and disgusted, and at least one of these were emotions you had never seen him make before. You almost expected him to drop you into the bathtub as you found yourself hovering over it, but he set you down gently. Nonetheless, the sudden stream of cold water hit you like a slap in the face as he turned on the shower without even a moment of hesitation. It grew warmer quickly, but you found yourself weirded out as your clothes began to stick to you. Kiyoomi, too, barely took off his blazer before kneeling down next to the tub, reaching for the shampoo standing close by.

It was in no way gentle or comfortable as he rubbed it onto your head, the gloves he wore not helping at all. You began to splutter as you had to close your eyes, soap going everywhere on your face. “Where else did he touch?” Kiyoomi asked, almost too calm for the fact it felt like he was trying to press the shampoo into your head rather than wash you. “No- Nowhere!” you complained, ducking out from his touch and wiping away soap from your face. “What are you doing?!”

“I don’t believe you,” was all the answer you received to your question. “Tell me. Now. Don’t make this harder for us.”

“What...” you muttered, flinching as you felt his hands fall to your body, grabbing your clothes. “What’s wrong with you!” you finally yelled, swatting his hands away harder than you wished you did. Finally, you got the time to wash off the soap and open your eyes again, feeling ill-treated and confused by his actions. Though despite the warm water, as you finally managed to look at him again, you felt your body freeze.

You thought you knew how he looked at you all this time. Disappointed, disapproving, and disgusted, but this time it was different. He looked at you as if you just ripped his heart out and claimed he was fine like that, and that hurt almost more than any look before. But in the next moment, it was gone, just like a snap of his fingers, and he grabbed your wrist, tightly and unbudging even if you complained. “Try that again, Sweetheart, I dare you.”

Blinking a few times, you couldn’t decide what was scarier; seeing him for the first time up close, face only inches from yours and without the mask, which usually gave some more distance between you two, or having him threaten you. Kiyoomi never talked more than a few words with you at a time, nor did he show any interest in anything you did. “Slap my hand away again, and I will make sure you can’t use it for a long time, you understand? Don’t you know by now who you belong to?”

His questions were so clear, yet in your head, they made no sense. Who did you belong to? Who was it?

“Y-You?” you eventually muttered. “Do I belong to you?”

A question as stupid as it sounded, and yet, it eased Kiyoomi’s rage, it seemed. “That’s right,” he confirmed. “You’re mine. You’ve been mine ever since we met for the first time, don’t ever forget that. I am the only one that is allowed to touch you and no one else. Especially no sleazy bastards like Atsumu.”

“Kiyoomi...”

“Undress,” he interrupted you. “I have to clean you.”

Hesitating, you gripped your own clothes. Never before had you heard him talk like that, especially not about you. You never even believed he could have those thoughts about you, and after being unloved for so long, they felt like bandaids to your wounds. Mind you, not strong bandaids, no. They didn’t even manage to heal you partially, but who were you to complain. Because, what Kiyoomi said...

“Okay,” you whispered, slowly stripping out of your clothes. “I’m sorry... Omi.”

You were stretching your luck, but you were so close to tears as he placed his hand on top of your head. It wasn’t like Atsumu’s. It wasn’t gentle, and it didn’t fill your core with happiness. No, it pressed you down, making you lower your head and feel so insignificant compared to its greatness. But it was Kiyoomi’s. The person you wanted to be loved and caressed by the most.

“It’s okay,” he sighed, and for once, his voice sounded almost gentle and forgiving after you did something. His hand stayed as his free one helped you get out of your clothes, and laying your own hand on top of his, you felt his warmth for the first time, no glove separating you two.

And to this day, you still remember wondering if what Kiyoomi said meant that he loved you too.

Even if that meant you were living in the worst kind of relationship possible.

[You can find the prompt list here]

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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde (1/?)

Part One: The introduction

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Reader meets a mysterious stranger at the library during a book club meeting.

Part Two, Part Three

Series Masterlist

A/N: Hey Heyyy! This is my first Dom!Spencer fic in so long!!! My last one was also funnily enough for a fic swap as is this one! I had @aperrywilliams for the fic swap organized by @imagining-in-the-margins. I had so much fun writing this one- it’s based on a prompt that I got from @andiebeaword and @spencers-dria helped me by guiding me with the book club idea- with a little twist! I am considering making this a series, if y’all are interested PLEASE let me know- I really want to because I had so much fun writing this. Thanks to all y’all for reading and requests are open!!

Warnings: 18+, Dom Spencer, Public Sex (is anyone that surprised??), Impact Play, Post Prison Spencer, Use of the nickname Doctor during sex, Spencer is a brat tamer, Spencer is morally ambiguous but doesn’t do anything explicitly immoral

Main Masterlist Word Count: 3.0k

As soon as you walked in through the large wooden doors it felt like history hit you over the head with a book. Even though it was on the small side for a library it still probably held more books than a normal public library, almost every wall was adorned with built-in shelves stacked from bottom to top with old books. They ranged in every subject you could think imaginable, from every point in history imaginable, and from every point of view that was imaginable. When you had first discovered this place it had felt like you had been transported to another world. You were surprised that more people didn’t know about this old library nestled in the corners of D.C, it was just sitting there idly watching as history passed by day by day, while it sat writing down all its secrets.

A meeting of the classics was scrawled on the standing white board you saw right when you walked into the library. A meeting of the classics from 7pm to 11:30 in reading room C were the exact words, you didn’t even really need to read them as you had been looking forward to this event for weeks.

You made your way down to the reading room that was specified, only encountering a few stragglers similar to yourself on the way down. You were somewhat new to the events that this library ran, only coming to the past four months. It was quickly becoming your favorite thing to do every month.

There was always a theme to each of the parties, ranging from different eras of history, specific novels, and including things that were open to interpretation. Tonight’s theme was as stated on the white board, a meeting of the classics, which had been described as “Pick your favorite literary icon from a classic novel and dress up as them.”

You had decided to not pick a character from a classic novel, but rather an author, Mary Shelly. You based your entire look on the iconic writer of Frankenstein (with a twist of course) because it had been your favorite novel as a child, it still was your favorite novel.

Once you had made it into the large reading room you took in the full room like you did every week. People were dressed as many outlandish characters, with some being more difficult to decipher than others. As you walked around the reading room you could feel the eyes of another on you.

You could feel his stare following you intently as you walked around mingling with the others that you had met before. The eyes belonged to a man you hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting yet, a man dressed as someone instantly recognizable, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. What other iconic character would be split down the middle, half innocent doctor and half evil alter ego.

Even behind the costume you could tell how attractive the man was. He was extremely tall and lanky, with deep brown eyes and the fluffiest brown hair you had ever seen.

“Who’s that?” You asked the married lady and gentlemen dressed up as Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. Maybe it was shameful that you didn’t know their actual names, but you guess that’s what some people want when they come to an event like this

“That’s Dr. Spencer Reid, he hasn’t been here for a while and he sometimes misses things because of work. You didn’t hear it from me, but I heard he got in trouble with the law, that’s why he hasn’t been here for almost six months.” Her gossipy voice was drenched in fake sugar that made you gag on the inside. You still did appreciate her information as it gained you the name of the man who couldn’t stop staring at you like he was trying to figure you out.

“Must not have been that bad if he’s already out now, or maybe he’s innocent.” Ms. Bennet shrugged her shoulders at that. You may have even been naive to not heed her warning, but the idea of getting to know the mysterious fluffy haired man that had been staring at you all night was too intriguing for you to ignore.

“Who are you?” The mysterious man asked when he finally decided to approach you instead of staring at you from across the room.

Trying to maintain the same level of mystery as the man had you dodging his question with a simple redirect, “Who’s asking?”

“I thought it was quite obvious who I was.” He was right it was obvious, but why would you let him know that despite the fact that you knew what character he was you could tell the man underneath was the real mystery of it all.

“You’re the one who is not obvious.” The back and forth you had already picked up with him was thrilling, you sensed the fact that in most conversations you would have with him it would be a kind of battle that you would have to win.

“If you must know, kind sir, I am dressed as Mary Shelly, author of Frankenstein, with a bit of a modern twist.” You made sure to call him sir instead of his earned honorific this time, to see if it would poke any buttons.

“I am not a sir since my name is Dr. Spencer Reid. I can see now who you are dressed as, but I would still argue that it is not what the intentions were when they set this up.” You could tell that he was only teasing you with the way the inflections of his voice sounded, you were glad your teasing had been a moderate success.

You did also provide him your name before deciding to poke his buttons once more,“But, isn’t she a classic, Dr. Reid?”

“But, you have not made her a classic anymore by putting as you say a ‘modern twist on things’ though I must say it does look well made.” You would’ve been offended if you could not tell that it was all in jest, though you still got the sense that you still were not seeing what all this man was about.

“Thank you, Doctor I made it myself. However, you still haven’t answered my question yet, Dr. Reid.” You asked the next question hoping he would get what you were implying, “Who are you?”

“I suspect you may already know, but I am dressed half as Dr. Jekyll and half as Mr. Hyde.” At least he started to somewhat catch on to the hidden meaning in your words, though you still had not dug up the real answer you were looking for. He was too intriguing to persuade you to stop digging, you wanted to find who the doctor really was, not the partial mask he was still using.

“Yes, I suspected as much, but aren’t you breaking the rules by dressing up as technically two characters?”

“Were there rules that said I couldn’t dress up as two characters?” He fell nicely into the small trap you had set for him, retorting quickly without thinking. Which you found odd for a man that was clearly intelligent.

“No, but were there rules that said I couldn’t dress up as a classic author with my own twist?” The look on his face had let you know you had won the debate. You smirked with triumph as you glanced over the man, taking note of each of his handsome features in case you would never see him again.

You decided to pivot the conversation to another question that was on the forefront of your mind,“Do you have a dark side, Dr. Reid?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” He was deflecting, but he didn’t seem agitated by your question, simply amused by your dogged curiosity.

“I am curious though, what are you exactly underneath it all Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde?” Your coy smile was most definitely not lost on him, he could see right through your facade. He could see right through Mary Shelly to find the true you underneath. You only wished you could figure him out as well, you wondered how he got so good at being able to read people in an instant.

“I haven’t figured that out yet.” Well, at least you got the answer to what you were looking for, even if the answer wasn’t as straightforward as you may have been expecting. But, you were realizing that Dr. Spencer Reid was probably anything but straightforward.

Your heart was pumping fast, his words had a bigger effect on you than he had probably expected, your panties hidden underneath your long dress were dampening quickly. Though as you saw the smirk on his face grow as you fidgeted in your chair you realized that maybe this was intention all along.

You excused yourself for a moment with a veiled excuse of going to the bathroom. You hoped he’d follow right behind you, to see that you were going to one of the empty reading rooms. If you had read his intentions correctly the heavy doors on each of the rooms should significantly squash any noises he or you would make.

Sure enough after an appropriate amount of time had passed so as to not raise suspicion, the good doctor (that may or may not be good at all) entered the empty room.

He brought you into a dominating kiss that made you want to cower at the same time as be completely defiant. You fought with valor as he tried to consume you entirely with the kiss, not letting his tongue slip into your mouth for as long as you could hold off. In the end you still lost the fight when he lifted you up onto one of the large wooden desks in the room, causing a gasp to fall from your lips that finally gave him full access to your hot wet mouth. He suddenly pulled away to pinch your cheeks together with his hand to make you look at him which made you whimper pathetically at first, but you appreciated his next question immensely.

“Do you want this?” You nodded as vigorously as you could with his hand pinching your cheeks.

He however was not satisfied with my eager nod and prompted you to confirm once more with an even harsher tone, “Speak up when you’re talking.”

“Yes, Doctor.” You replied with his honorific instinctually and you were pleasantly surprised with the eager groan that came from his lips in response. Plus, you were slightly rewarded with being able to feel his lips on your collarbone, sending even more shivers down your spine.

“Let me know immediately if that changes.” The contrast of his sweet meaning words with his hand gripping your jaw was jarring, but you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed it. It just made you want to be as bratty as possible because even if he was harsh there was still the underlying care in everything he did, you felt safe.

“Maybe I should just call you Mister instead, since that’s clearly your dominant side.”He growled into your neck that was quickly getting covered in hickies, next thing you knew he flipped you around to face the desk closest to you with your back to his chest.

“Bend over.” He commanded, to which in response you opened your mouth to retort. Instead of letting you run your mouth as you had done before he wound his hands through your hair and pushed you down to take the position he wanted. He then pulled up your dress to uncover the panties you had soaked through. You thought maybe he was going to give me some relief of the ache in my core, but you were given a harsh slap on your ass instead.

A whimper involuntarily came out from your lips from the harshness of the slap that you assumed was revenge for not following his commands. He then spoke with deadly conviction, “I want you to say thank you, doctor after every time I spank you.”

You only agreed because you were afraid that if you did not comply now he may not give you what you wanted. So, as soon as the next stinging slap came down on the same spot as before the phrase fell from your lips, “Thank you, Doctor!”

He continued his repeated hits onto your ass and you made sure to never miss thanking him with a cry. Once he was satisfied with how much you were punished for your sassy remark he rubbed over the inflamed skin of your ass with his large, unbelieving hands. He moved your panties to the side to dip his deft fingers to run through your folds, collecting some of your wetness. You whined loudly and perhaps pathetically in response to him only lighting touching you instead of obliging the heat you felt everywhere.

“Be patient, you’ll get what you want since you decided to start listening to me.” He snapped which caused your knees to buckle again.

“I can be patient, Doctor.” He definitely appreciated the continued use of his honorific in this scandalous situation as he let out a groan almost every time you said it. Instead of answering you he started to undo the pants of his outfit, a pair of slacks that were also equally as split as the rest of his costume. You didn’t look back to see his cock because you did not want to be punished by him twice in one night. But, you certainly felt it.

You could tell just as he was running the head of his cock through your folds and pulling your panties to the side again that he would be the biggest you had ever been with. What should have worried you slightly only ended up sending a shock through your core instead. He was at least somewhat gentle when he finally started to enter you, letting you get somewhat adjusted before sinking in all the way to the hilt.

As soon as he sensed that you had adjusted he started a rough brutal pace, not that you were complaining as he hit all of your most sensitive spots as his cock dragged through your walls.

He made no effort to stifle the loud moans that were coming from your mouth, maybe he thought the thick wooden doors would stifle the noises. But, there was no way no one would be able to hear the unintelligible wails that were coming from you.

“You like bringing out this side of me don’t you?” He rasped out after he pushed your torso back down to flat on the desk once you started to lift yourself up on your elbows. When you only answered with a noise that was not understandable he prompted you to speak up with another slap on your ass and said, “I said earlier to speak up when you’re trying to talk to someone.”

“Yes, Doctor!” You finally were able to cry out with a few more slaps to your ass from him.

Each time you kept getting close to the edge he’d pull away from you slightly dashing your orgasm away from you cruelly. Each time you decided to whine out loud to voice your displeasure even if it was involuntarily he would just prolong edging you for even longer. You were babbling incoherently when he pulled you by the hair so your back was pressed into his chest and after a few more moments of hearing you beg nonsensically with tears in your eyes he finally gave you the command,

“You can cum.”

“Thank you, Doctor!” You wailed as your orgasm washed over you in devastating waves, you were sure no other man had made you finish so hard in your life. You kept repeating, “Thank you, Doctor!”over and over until you had completely come down from what was arguably the best orgasm of your life. Your own orgasm helped propel his forward, and you made sure to confirm out loud that you were ok with him cumming inside you. The warmth that filled you as he pumped into you a few more times caused one last groan to come from you that was weirdly harmonious with the groan from the doctor.

Normal aftercare wasn’t really applicable in this type of situation, you hardly knew him and the added fact that you were in an old library with a party down the hall didn’t help either. He still cleaned you up with a softness you had yet to see from him during your short encounter. Aloe probably would’ve been the best option to soothe your raw bottom, but he did massage you for a few minutes after he cleaned the rest of you. He had even made sure your clothes that were not period accurate, as he had pointed out earlier, were neat before you both left. There were no cuddles and soft loving words exchanged, but you still felt immensely cared for by a man who claims he might not be a good man. He was a strange case.

“You still never answered my question, Doctor.” You stated as you stood on the steps of the library after you two had slipped out to leave.

“That’s because I still don’t have an answer.” And, with that you parted ways into the cool air of D.C. You hoped he had the same feelings as you when you had both parted ways, you wanted to see him again. There was another meeting next month, maybe then you would get your chance again.

The thrill that ran through your veins whenever you interacted with him, whether he was fucking you or having a rousing conversation about classic literature made you want him no matter whether he was Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde. You’d take them both.

Part Two, Part Three| Series Masterlist

———

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar

Spencer Reid/CM:

@calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes

Dom Spencer (new tag list):

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #mgg #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler smut #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew gray gubler

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oreoambitions · 3 years

Note

I think we're alone now for supercorp! :)

If you'd asked Lena this time yesterday whether there was anything she wasn't prepared to do for friendship, she'd have said no. Certainly there was nothing she wasn't prepared to do for Andrea, best friend and roommate, social mentor, fellow genius entrepreneur-to-be. But if you ask Lena today, she'll tell you there's precisely one thing she's not willing to do for friendship, no not even for Andrea, not even if the fate of the world depends on it, and that's hiking.

Specifically backpacking. More specifically, multi day backpacking trips with a gaggle of fellow undergraduates who want to behave like they're hiking the PCT and not trundling down some 60 miles of backwater footpaths just a few hours away from NCU in what was allegedly supposed to be an attempt to form long lasting social bonds but which appears to be in fact a thinly disguised mating ritual. This, in retrospect, is something that Lena should have seen coming. But she was blinded by friendship - or perhaps by Andrea's pouty face - and so here they are some 16 miles from civilization and Lena has come to the conclusion that hiking is in fact literal hell.

By which she means that everything is burning. Her legs are burning. Her lungs are burning. Her throat is burning. Her lips are chapped and there is a distinctly red tinge to her cheeks which is either going to be a whole new generation of freckles or else it's the beginning of a skin cancer which will lead her to an untimely death and leave the Luthor legacy in Lex's questionably capable hands.

But more than any of those things it's Lena's pride which feels burnt to crisp, and it's the fault of the woman marching along in front of her like none of this is the slightest physical inconvenience. The woman who turns around and, walking backwards without missing a step, fixes Lena with a goofy smile.

"Hey Grumpy," she says, "You doing okay?"

Lena doesn't have the breath in her lungs to protest that Grumpy isn't her name, so she fixes the energetic woman in front of her with a deadpan stare and hopes that's going to do the trick. Ahead of them, Tech Support is talking too loudly about something that would be mildly interesting to Lena if they were, say, chatting over beers in a building with air conditioning and not courting death and mosquitos in the middle of nowhere and calling it fun.

"You need to take a break?"

Potsticker. That's the name Lena knows this woman by. Because everyone agreed ahead of time to go by trail names, and it's ridiculous, and Lena hates it, not only because she somehow got saddled with Grumpy, but because her eyes fall to those lips, those shoulders, and she wants to think some kind of semi-horny thought, and here's the thing: it's difficult to have semi-horny thoughts about someone whose name evokes the image of Chinese takeout. Lena tears her eyes away from long fingers wrapped securely around a backpack strap and tries to arrange her expression into something other than pure exhausted despair.

"I'm good," she gets out. "It's just. A lot."

And it is. Tech Support and Playboy are both vying for Andrea's attention, which is not in and of itself particularly strange since Andrea always seems to have a half dozen boys wrapped around her finger, but it is... annoying. Annoying because Andrea's trail name is Blowjob and it makes Lena uncomfortable in a way she can't quite put her finger on. And Potsticker's sister, Shades, has been falling all over a woman who has been unironically going by Daddy since she met up with them at the trailhead yesterday. Lena isn't sure if that's a sex thing or a gender thing and at this point she's afraid to ask.

Potsticker squints up the trail at their gaggle of hikers and smiles. Somewhere ahead, Dreamer is shouting about stopping to crack a beer, and Short Stuff is shouting something back about needing to check the GPS.

"They're a little... rowdy," Potsticker admits. "Probably not what you picture when you think of a wilderness trip. But they'll grow on you."

Privately Lena thinks not. "Undergrad is where you make the best friends of your life, that's what Andrea told me," Lena huffs.

"Blowjob?"

"I spend all my time in the lab. Trying to graduate early. Two degrees. Lot of ground to cover. World isn't going to change itself. Not for the better, anyway. So we thought. Join a hiking group. NCU has a. Group for-"

Lena almost smacks into Potsticker where she's halted right in the middle of the trail. "I think we should take a break," Potsticker says.

"But the others-"

"Do you trust me?"

The answer to that question is an easy and obvious no. Lena didn't know any of these people a week ago and they're all going by assumed and frankly borderline obscene names and now that she thinks of it there's no way to be sure that any of these people actually attend NCU in the first place. But Potsticker is standing there in that tanktop with those deep blue eyes and her head cocked to the side and "no" doesn't feel like an appropriate answer.

So Lena says, "Of course."

"You want me to get your water off your pack for you?"

They stand together wordlessly in the middle of the trail, Lena taking sips from the HydroFlask she's schlepped all the way out there and Potsticker nibbling on the water valve looped through her pack straps. After a long moment, Potsticker cocks her head to one side again.

"You hear that?" she asks.

Lena listens. The wind brushes through the tops of the trees and nearby an insect is buzzing. The roar of the river they followed for some time this morning has long since faded into nothingness. "I don't hear anything," Lena says.

Posticker nods. "Exactly. I think we're alone now." And then, hastily, "I know where we're going though; we aren't lost. Alex - Shades - and I, we've done this trail a hundred times. Usually just us. But she's got this thing going with Sam, and Sam likes to do the hiking groups, so. What I'm saying is, it's a lot for me too. I come out here for the quiet. The group is nice; they really do grow on you. But it's... they're out here for something else. It's a more social experience."

"We were looking for a social experience," Lena says. Her eyes are drawn suddenly, intensely, to the rim of her water bottle. "Just not... just..."

"You weren't looking for 60 miles of frat party."

"That's a little on the nose."

"Look me in the eye and tell me that I'm wrong."

Lena looks her in the eye. No words come out. Potsticker is suddenly very close, or maybe Lena is suddenly too aware of her proximity.

"That might be what Andrea came out here for," Lena says. "And there's no shame in that. But I think if I had known I would have stayed home. I'm not- I don't think Andrea and I are looking for the same things."

"And what are you looking for?"

Lena is definitely not imagining it; Potsticker is absolutely getting closer to her and it's absolutely on purpose. And those deep blue eyes have fallen to Lena's mouth and Lena, who has spent the last 24hrs annoyed with her best friend for flirting with everything on the trail with a male pronoun, who is out here actively complaining about how she came looking for community and found a wilderness matchmaking service, is seriously considering whether it's hygienic or legal to rail someone right here in the middle of the trail.

Lena clears her throat. "I am, against my better judgment, going to kiss you now," she announces. "And I'd really like it if before I did you could give me something to call you that isn't so... greasy."

Potsticker laughs. She ducks her head to capture Lena's mouth and for a long, glorious moment, grease is the furthest thing from Lena's mind. It's a clumsy kiss, and the backpacks are not conducive to really holding one another, and it mostly hurts when Potsticker brushes a thumb over Lena's cheek because of that damn sunburn. But Lena smiles anyway.

It’s another 6 miles before she realizes that Potsticker never gave up her name.

///

Thank you for the prompt, Anon!

Shout-out to @mrsluthordanvers for Sam's trail name

#I did not proofread this #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #hiking au #ficlet #can you tell I've had hiking on the brain #Anonymous

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ultralovedeluxe · 3 years

Note

Hey I love your work! Would you mind doing Rohan with prompts 41 and 43 whenever you can? And maybe nsfw if your comfortable? 👉🏼👈🏼

Have a good day/evening!

Oml I love YOU so much! I'm a big fan of your work so I was nervous when writing this (it's very rushed oml), I hope you enjoy though!

Yandere! Rohan Kishibe with prompts #41 and #43

'I'm all you have left now'

'They didn't know you belonged to me so I had to get rid of them!'

Warnings: yandere behaviors, cheating accusations, manipulation, slut-shaming, inappropriate use of stands, non/dub con, blow-jobs, nsfw

Dating the famous mangaka Kishibe Rohan would be an honor to most people. He's a man of power and fame, who wouldn't want to be with him? The moms who hang out at the park always tell you that you should feel like the luckiest person in the world. They'd tell you that a million girls would kill to be in your shoes.

Although you love Rohan with all your heart (and you should feel deserving of his love), you sometimes start to wonder if dating the great Kishibe Rohan is worth it.

You met Rohan at an art exhibit in France. You had been a model for several pieces in that said exhibit, so obviously you had to come along for the event. Meeting Rohan was a love at first sight. He had asked if you would want to model for him sometime, and you had agreed. Soon after one visit and project, came after another, and then another, until you were working mainly with the mangaka. You can't say you didn't like it though, you enjoyed being in Rohan's presence. He was chivalrous when he wanted to be, and you found his sarcastic nature be quite humorous in fact. You spent so much time with Rohan in fact, you would have considered him a friend. Your relationship with the mangaka was no longer just work related, the both of you had become good friends.

However, the real problem in your friendship with Rohan began to show when your parents were involved. Your parents tolerated Rohan (or at least you thought they did), but they were getting annoyed with the fact the mangaka kept hogging your time. You should be modeling with professional photographers, or modeling for famous designers. But instead you're being used as reference from some manga artist in Japan.

You understood your parent's point of view in the subject, but you enjoyed working with Rohan more than you did any other project you had worked on. You continued to visit Rohan, despite your parent's protests (and Rohan couldn't have been happier).

The more visits that happened, the closer you got to the mangaka. It wasn't long before Rohan had asked you on a date. Eventually multiple dates leaded to the both of you starting a relationship. You knew your parents would hate Rohan even more now, but he didn't seem to mind. He'd always tell you that he didn't care what your parents thought about him, he was content with having you as a partner. Even if your parents did find out about your secret relationship, you highly doubt they would react dramatically. Sure, they'd really, really dislike it, but they wouldn't disown you for it. After all you were a grown adult, you should be able to make your own decisions right?

At least that's what you thought. One day, Rohan made an unexpected visit on your front door step. You didn't expect for him to be there, nor did you know how he got your address (considering the fact you lived in a completely different continent), but you didn't think much of it since you thought this could be your chance to properly introduce Rohan to your parents.

The introduction went by smoothly, Rohan was getting along with your parents, and your parents seemed to accept that Rohan was your partner. However, it did seem a bit suspicious that your parent's dislike of Rohan turned into an approval almost in a span of a few minutes. They had even agreed to let you move out with Rohan. While you could admit that you and Rohan had been planning to live in Morioh-Cho together, you didn't think it'd happen instantly. And that your parents would agree nonetheless. Regardless, you and Rohan accepted your parent's blessing's and left France.

You vividly remembered on your plane flight to Morioh-Cho, Rohan had whispered in your ear while stroking your hair softly, "You must be lucky to have me right [first]? I'm all you have left now.."

Life in Morioh-Cho was sweet to say the least. It was a drastic change from living in a fashion capital of the world, to a small quiet place where there was much to do. Nevertheless, you truly enjoyed your new life, it was better than going to photoshoots every week. Speaking of which, you never do photoshoots anymore. Rohan convinced you to quit your job as a model (since he is wealthy enough to provide for the both of you anyway), and you had agreed. Though, every time you mentioned getting a job to Rohan, he'd simply call you an idiot for wanting to work. He'd ask you if he needed step up his game for you, and you'd only close your mouth in the conversation.

Your relationship with Rohan was a drastic change too. From what was sweet, humble dates every weekend, went to being locked in a home for what was everyday. Rohan would spend hours in his art studio, drawing multiple pages for his manga. He'd tell you to not go out while he was working. But even then, that's most of the time.

You'd be lying if you didn't find this type of behavior weird.

"I'm leaving to go visit Italy for a couple of days [first]. Do you remember the rules?"

You nodded and kissed Rohan's cheek before handing him his suitcase. "Don't go outside unless we run out of groceries, don't let people inside-" Rohan cut you off "Especially those idiots Josuke and Okuyasu" he said scoffing at his distaste for the boys. You only sighed in response, "Especially Josuke and Okuyasu. Hope you have a good trip love" you smiled holding his hands close to your chest. Rohan kissed your lips softly and mumbled a quick 'goodbye' before leaving your shared home. You sighed and walked into the kitchen, before sitting down on a chair. You respected his rules, and you didn't want to lie to him, but you were bored out of your mind. You wanted to go out and have fun. Not to mention, although you know that Rohan could buy you whatever you wanted; but you wanted to have some money of your own. You can't rely on Rohan forever. You had decided that tomorrow you'd start looking for a job (any job, part-time even, you just wanted some type of job to keep you entertained for a while). Rohan would get mad sure, but you promised you'd discuss when he'd come back. You were sure he'd support you

You were sure of it.

Looking for a job was harder than you thought. It seemed that nobody wanted to hire somebody who only had 'model' on their resume. Sometimes you'd wish you had taken on other jobs other than modeling, maybe then people would hire you. Regardless, you kept looking, desperate to find a job somewhere.

In the end, you ended up finding an Italian restaurant after hours of searching. You stepped in and was greeted a tall, blonde Italian man. "Hello good afternoon my name is Tonio, welcome to my restuarant" he greeted you while smiling at you sweetly. You smiled awkwardly and muttered a quick 'thank you', "Um Tonio san, I'm not here to eat..but I'd like to ask you if you are hiring. I can't cook, but I can be a waitress!-" you exclaimed, leaving Tonio in a small shock. He looked at you up and down before smiling at you once again, "Well I don't usually hire people since I'm doing good on my own, but I guess a little help wouldn't hurt.." he told you. You smiled back and hugged him, "Oh thank you so much! You don't know how much I struggled finding a job today-" you let him go, "Uhm, sorry.." you mumbled. He chuckled and led you to a table.

The two of you talked a bit for a while, you told hima bout your modeling career and your relationships, while he told you about his journey to Japan and Italian cuisine. You both shared laughs and stories together, you had a good time. Your time with Tonio became even better when he officially had hired you as a waitress! You were happy, and you couldn't wait to tell Rohan when he got home!

"Well I'll see you next week Tonio!" you shouted as you left the door, carrying the bouquet of daisies Tonio had gifted you. Tonio smiled, "I'll see you then bambina!".

You arrive a little later than planned (guess you spent too much time talking to Tonio), but you finally made it home safe and sound. You might as well start cleaning, since you weren't going to sleep any time soon. As you opened the door, you were met face to face with Rohan. You dropped your daises on the floor, and began to think of all the apologies and excuses you could think of. But it was no use, excuses would only make Rohan's anger boil even more.

Why was he even here in the first place? Wasn't he supposed to be in Italy by now?!

"Rohan I-"

"Save it, I don't want to hear a word from you" Rohan growled angrily before walking towards you. He had pulled out a pen and you felt as if you passed out.

Rohan had used Heaven's Door to read the pages of your life. He looked for the information of today, and when he did, he was fuming. He read his newly learned information out loud, gripping onto your hair in the process, "This man named Tonio is so handsome, and he cooks too.. I feel like this skirt is a bit risqué, but oh well.." with that last sentence Rohan had the last straw. He removed his stand's effect on you, but not before writing a few things.

Once the effects of Heaven's Door were gone, you began to feel a heat between your legs. Noticing you were on your knees, you crawled your way to Rohan, "Rohann, feel so hot need you.." you mewled out. Rohan was furious with your previous behavior, but maybe this would help you learn a few things. "So you were tempted to cheat on me right? I bet you would’ve enjoyed if that Tonio flipped your skirt right?" he said slapping your face in the process. You whimpered, "No no no no, that's not true..please need you. Need you so bad" you were starting to tear up just by him insinuating you were going to cheat on him. Rohan looked down at you, gods you looked so pathetic, just like he wanted you to look like.

"Such a fucking slut" he said unbuckling his pants, eager to have your warm and needy mouth all around his cock. Once he finished doing that he looked at you dead in the eye, "Suck. Suck like the whore you are. Aren't you ashamed [first]? I bet you also sucked Tonio’s cock in that job interview right?” He said watching you as you sloppily sucked his cock. You probably aren’t even thinking right now, your just hungry for his cock right? Such a little slut. “And to think your parents didn’t like me. They just didn’t know you belonged to me. But that’s fine I had to get rid of them regardless..” he chuckled before he bucked his hips into your mouth repeatedly.

Rohan grabs you by the hair and begins to push your head down his member, sinking your mouth down to his pubes; much to your displeasure. At the moment however he didn’t care what you felt, sluts like you don’t mind right? He continued to do so for a few more seconds before he came in your mouth, groaning loudly. He came inside your mouth, and there was so much of it you couldn’t help but to cough some out.

You laid your head on his lap and breathed out softly, before Rohan lifted your chin up and grinned,

“Who said we were done?”

Dating the great Kishibe Rohan would be an honor to most people. Who wouldn’t want to be by his side. Unfortunately for you, dating Kishibe Rohan was not a glitter and sparkles.

Being Kishibe Rohan’s personal cum dump isn’t much better either.

#yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere jjba #yandere rohan kishibe #yandere rohan x reader #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba imagines #rohan kishibe #jojo no kimym na bmken #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo x reader #yandere rohan

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hercleverboy · 3 years

Note

Congrats!!! I love your writing!! I’d like to request a blurb with #36 from the general list and #41 from fluf 💕💕💕

thank you so much! enjoy!

I don’t really like this piece too much, so please let me know what you think!

wc ↠ 1.7k

General #36 ↠ “Do you trust me?” “No.”

Fluff #41 ↠ “You say you hate him but your red face is telling me otherwise.”

Spencer Reid had hated her from the moment he met her.

Y/N was absolutely sure of it. When they met for the first time when she joined the BAU, he seemed polite enough. Though he just never let her in the same way he let in the other team members. She understood at first, Spencer had known the rest of the team for years at that point. She even found herself incredibly attracted to the young genius, developing somewhat of a crush on him. His reputation certainly proceeded him, particularly when it came to his issues with germs, so she kept to herself. She understood it would take him time to get used to her, but where the rest of the team warmed to Y/N and accepted her as a part of their family; Spencer never did.

During paperwork days when Y/N would get up to make coffee in the corner of the bullpen, Spencer would already be in the kitchenette, stirring his sugar in with intent. She’d always offer him a polite smile and some light conversation. However, it seemed that as soon as she started to speak, Spencer would pick up his coffee and head back to his desk. She let that go, thinking perhaps she was getting too much in his personal space, though it hung around in the back of her mind for weeks afterwards.

After cases when they’d get on the jet to go back home, she would take a seat opposite him, offer him a kind smile and then pull out a book to read, wholly intent on minding her own business. But Spencer, without even looking up at her, would simply get up and move to an empty seat at the other end of the jet.

Y/N exchanged a look with JJ, who had just shrugged in response. She couldn’t understand Spencer’s dislike for the woman who’d been nothing but kind, and who the team were all already incredibly fond of. She had good initiative, was brilliant in the field and had a capability to pick up on patterns earlier than the rest of them, sometimes even before the resident genius himself. The team suspected that Spencer’s supposed hatred for her was actually his poor attempt at disguising the fact that he was madly in love with her, but he never confirmed nor denied it.

Then somehow, as if she didn’t already think Spencer hated her enough, it got worse. Any time she made contributions to their group conversations, Spencer would cut her off. It was belittling, honestly. It made her second guess her intelligence whenever she’d pose a theory. Every time, without fail, Spencer would pipe up and say, ‘You’re wrong. It’s actually more plausible that—‘

One day, they were sat around the roundtable, having finished debriefing after a long case. The team exchanged murmurs of plans to head down to the bar, with Garcia smiling enthusiastically and insisting that the first round was on her. Y/N had felt pretty awful for the majority of the case, and to top it off she was sure she was coming down with a cold too.

“How about you, Y/L/N? You coming?” Morgan piped up, his usual smirk on his lips.

She forced a smile, scoffing. “No, I think I’m just gonna head home, but thank you.”

Morgan shook his head, determined. “Come on. Even Reid’s coming!”

Y/N looked over at Spencer then, who busied himself with packing away items in his satchel, although she didn’t miss the scowl that seemed to plant itself on his face. She looked back to Morgan. “Sorry Morgan, I’m just not feeling it.”

Morgan sighed, but still tried one last time, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “You sure? It’ll be fun, maybe you and Reid will finally start getting along after a few drinks.”

“Y/N bit her lip, shaking her head. “I’m sure there’s at least a hundred other people that Reid would rather spend the evening with.”

At that comment, Spencer threw his satchel strap over his shoulder and left the room in a hurry, a look on his face that seemingly resembled hurt.

Y/N swatted Morgan’s shoulder playfully. “Look what you’ve done now! You know how much Reid hates me.” She whined.

Morgan chuckled. “Please, Pretty Boy doesn’t hate you.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

“It’s true! Don’t tell anyone I told you, but the team has an ongoing bet on when you two will finally admit your feelings for one another.” He leaned in closer to her. “And I’ve got $20 riding on it being in the summer, if you could help a guy out?”

Y/N groaned at that. “Well be prepared to lose your money, it’s never going to happen. Spencer Reid hates me, and do you know what? I hate him too.” She said defiantly, although it was all too obvious that she was lying through her teeth.

Morgan smiled, holding his hands up in surrender. “You say you hate him, but your red face is telling me otherwise.”

Y/N just waved him off, ignoring how he chuckled at how flustered she’d gotten, and that was that.

Reid’s quite frankly petty behaviour was really winding down on Y/N mentally, and although Hotch often told him off for his snarky comments or gave him the third degree for constantly trying to one-up her, Spencer persisted.

They’d been working on a new case for a week, and Garcia had just sent the team the location of where the unsub was holding his fourth victim hostage. Hopping out of the SUV’s, the team regrouped in front of the house as Hotch ran over the plan with them.

“JJ, Morgan and Rossi, you’re with me. Y/L/N and Reid will take the back. We take the unsub in alive if possible, understand?” He instructed, everyone nodding as they reached for their guns.

“Can’t you switch Morgan and Y/L/N over?” Spencer began to whine but was quickly shut down by Hotch shooting him a warning look. He scoffed, rolling his eyes in defeat. “Great.”

After entering through the back of the house, the two began checking each room they passed by. As they rounded a corner, stalking towards a closed door, Spencer moved so he was in front of Y/N, in what she noticed was an almost protective manner. He leaned closer to the door, listening intently for any sign that the unsub was inside.

“Is he in there?” She whispered, and Spencer looked back at her, nodding.

“I think so.”

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment in thought, running over the important details of the profile in her head. “Do you trust me?”

Spencer scoffed quietly. “No.”

“Well, you’re not going to have a choice.” She mumbled, and before Spencer realised what was happening, Y/N had burst open the door, her gun drawn.

Y/N was stood in the local police station’s conference room, collecting together files and taking down crime scene photos from the evidence board. The case had ended well. Based off of the profile, Y/N had decided that the best course of action was to confront the unsub head on- and it worked, too. Hotch had already told her that she’d done well that day, and that made her heart swell with pride. But Spencer? He hadn’t said anything on the ride back to the police station, busying himself with other things as they prepared to head back home.

Y/N sighed at the thought, looking up from the evidence board just as Spencer entered the room. He immediately turned around, heading back out the door when she called out for him.

“Reid!”

He stopped, turning back around. “What, Y/L/N?”

“What is your problem with me?” She asked, exasperated. She was so tired of just accepting his mistreatment, and she refused to do it any longer.

“I don’t have time for this.” He shook his head, turning to leave again.

“Spencer Reid! You’ve made my life hell since I first joined the Bureau and god help me, you are going to tell me what your problem is!”

“My problem?” He countered, his jaw clenched. “My problem is you! Putting yourself in danger like that without a second thought for the consequences.”

“The consequences? It turned out fine! My plan worked!” She bit back, voice rising.

“It was stupid and reckless, you know better than that.” He spat, making Y/N scoff.

“Why do you care?” She shouted frustratedly. “You can barely stand to be in the same room as me, and for the life of me Spencer I cannot figure out what it is that I did to make you hate me so much!”

Spencer’s defensive stance dropped, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find appropriate words. “Y/N, I know you think I do, but I don’t hate you.”

She gave a humourless chuckle. “Yeah, well you could’ve fooled me.” She sighed, hands running over her face as she attempted to calm herself down. “I don’t understand why me putting myself in danger bothers you so much-”

“Maybe because I love you!”

The silence that fell between them only lasted a handful of seconds. Spencer, prompted by the look of shock on Y/N’s face, scrambled to explain himself.

“I don’t hate you. I-I don’t really think I could if I tried.” He reiterated, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his. “I’ve loved you since the day I first met you.”

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly so dry. “I don’t understand-“

“I’m so sorry, I know how poorly I’ve treated you. The only explanation I can offer is that I was so sure you wouldn’t feel the same that I thought it would be better to push you away than face rejection.” He whispered, moving closer to her, shame in his tone.

“You love me?” She murmured in disbelief. The words barely left her lips, so faint and shaky that Spencer nearly hadn’t heard her.

He laughed quietly, as though he was laughing at the absurdity of the situation. “Yes, yes I do. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

He’d moved to stand before her, the two of them looking at one another in absolute awe that they both felt the same way. Spencer’s eyes trailed down to her lips, moving back up to meet her eyes.

Y/N didn’t know how to respond, looking up at him incredulously. “Spencer..”

He bit down his lip, the words leaving his lips in a whisper. “Would it- would it be alright if I kissed you?”

She was nodding before she’d even processed his words, and when his lips met hers- it was euphoric. Like they were simply meant to be.

Perhaps Spencer Reid wasn’t that bad after all.

#kate writes blurbs☘️#spencer reid one shot #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer x y/n #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg x reader #mgg #criminal minds

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justreadingfics · 4 years

Text

It’s a Deal -Ch. 13

Chapter Summary: Old memories come back to you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: angsty internal thoughts, no Bucky this chapter.

A/N: Here it is. I’m sorry I ended up not reblogging all the comments on last chapter before I post this one, but I’ve read and cherish them all, please don’t doubt that. Thank you, incredible Suz, @bucky-the-thigh-slayer you’re a Queen around here. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated.

Tag list for this story is closed.

You bet that if you told anyone about the scene playing out in your apartment right now, people would scoff their asses off at your face: Saturday afternoon, your living room, the Leader of the Avengers Tech Team, the Director of SHIELD – probably the most powerful organization in the world- and one of the scariest, if not the scariest spy to ever walk on earth. All three of you sitting on your carpet, barefeet, wearing tops and tiny shorts due the heat brought by the bright sun slipping through your windows. A big bowl of popcorn in the center and innumerous chocolate bars everywhere.

Those afternoons with the three of you are a rare event. First, you had your relationship with Eddie to blame, but now it’s mainly due to your work schedules that almost never are in sync, but whenever there’s an opportunity, there you are.

Your phone's message alerts ringing together bursts into the conversation and the three of you grab your devices simultaneously. You were dreading to see what it was, sure it was something from work, but a huge smile widens in your lips at what you see on your screen.

“Jesus…” Nat says, while, laughing, you three turn the screens to one another, confirming you have received the same message. “Bucky’s a lost cause with that cat. That’s the millionth picture I received of her this week. And she’s always doing something extremely exciting like… sleeping.” She rolls her eyes.

“But we have to admit that little asshole is kinda cute,” Sharon comments looking back at her screen and the picture of the, indeed, sleeping cat.

“She is, right?” You agree, with a huge smile on your face. You and Alpine may have had a somewhat rough start, but you can’t help but admit she’s an adorable little jerk who’s just very protective of her human.

“By the way,” Natasha smirks at you, putting her phone back on her pocket, “I had no idea that was what he meant when he said he would romance the shit out of you.”

“It suits perfectly, though,” Sharon comments, shaking her head and laughing with her.

“It does. Shame on me, I should’ve known better.” Nat agrees.

“He said that?” You ask with peaked interest you try to disguise in the quietness of your tone while you bite the corner of your lips.

The curiosity in the information doesn’t go unnoticed by them, who just snicker at each other. You decide to ignore that.

“The dude is smitten, Y/N, wake the fuck up.” Natasha not so gently throws a popcorn right on your face.

“Hey,” you whine.

“And so is she, giving that little dreamy look on her face. Wake the fuck up indeed.” Sharon sides with Nat with a huff.

“I’ve created two monsters…” Nat comments like you weren’t even in the room, referring to the fact she is the one who brought you two together.

“It’s not like that…” You barge in their little interaction, catching their attention, before folding your legs up and holding your knees, “I mean… yeah, of course… I can’t help having feelings for Bucky, I mean… he’s…” you pause, searching for the right words to describe him, “He’s Bucky.” You shrug… a small smile curling your lips, “He’s Bucky…” you repeat with a sigh while your gaze wanders away…

It’s just you don’t really need anything else to justify why it’s so inevitable to grow feelings for him and your friends catch on to what you mean, because when you look back at them, they both have stupid and dreamily little looks at you… ones that don’t fit to a couple of spies.

You clear your throat, letting your initial line of thoughts come back to you, “But it’s not that simple… There’s…’ you falter.

“There’s what?” Nat insists, in a kind way.

But “Who” was the more proper pronoun.

“Eddie…” You whisper.

“Argh…” Sharon groans, tilting her face to her side before, looking back at you, “What about Eddie?”

It was just yesterday that you had your little “encounter” with Bucky. You know it was no coincidence he was there, the little shit must’ve tracked you down… but you couldn’t make yourself care about that when it was so amazing… incredible… Not only the fact that he went down on you in such a shameless way and gave you a mind-blowing orgasm, like he always does. It was also the way he spoke to you…his attitude… not really imposing himself… encouraging you to have fun with your friends… no sign of jealousy. It made you feel special and free and… loved. Really loved for who you are and not for who you make yourself to be to please and that is a tremendously powerful feeling.

Still… you have mixed feelings about it all and Eddie is the reason. Being there with him felt familiar and comfortable, but, in some way different… better than before. It makes you think that he really is engaged into finding not just a way back to you, but also a way to make your relationship work and it certainly weighs over your heart.

You tell your friends all of that.

“Did Eddie notice anything?” Nat asks, reaching over for some popcorn.

“I don’t know,” you answer, “He wasn’t at the table when I returned, but he came back shortly, my friends were still talking about it, but we changed to subject once we saw him. The girls didn’t comment anything again, and he acted normal… I guess he didn’t.” You shrug, starting to bite on your nails.

There’s an annoying little feeling rising in you since the night before and, thinking over it, you recognize it as guilt. Guilt for doing that with Bucky while Eddie was there in Club, guilt for not being bothered by Bucky’s presence, while, at least initially, you were bothered by Eddie’s, guilty for enjoying that Bucky was the one who actively made a move when Eddie didn’t, for missing him more than you missed Eddie, for feeling more positively about his change of mind than Eddie’s, for wanting Bucky more…

Guilt because you know you’re falling for him. For Bucky. And there’s little you can do to stop it.

“What is it?” Sharon asks, tightening her lips and nodding at where you’re chewing your nails.

You promptly stop, bringing your hands to around your knees again, “I guess I wasn’t expecting either of them there.” You decide not to share your most recent thoughts with them.

“You know why both of them were there. It was definitely not a coincidence.” Nat reminds you.

“I know… but it's ok, they were polite...” You brush it off but add, quickly, fighting back a smile at the memories that flashes in your mind, “In their own way.”

“Polite? Even when Bucky had his face up your pussy?” Sharon teases, not letting that one go, and making you give in and let out a laugh while you hide your face with your hands for a moment.

“I was pretty excited to find out he was there, actually,” you admit and their faces light up, which you assume is prompted by your own expression. “It was a thrilling sensation… I can’t quite explain.”

“He really is in love with you…Bucky…” Nat tightens her lips and tilts her head.

You sigh, looking back at her, “I know…” You admit.

They both keep waiting for you to say something else but you don’t know what you could say. No… as a matter of fact, you do. You’re just not ready to put your thoughts out in the world. At first, you had your doubts if what Bucky was feeling was really that deep… but now… something has changed. You believe him. You really do. And you know you’re falling for him, too, but…

Eddie was the one you wanted for so long… you’ve made so many plans with him… Long term plans. You used to see yourself growing old with him and that’s an image that still somehow haunts your feelings. And now… the fact that guilt surrounds the feelings arising for Bucky inside you makes you feel like a cheater. You didn’t feel that when it was just sex, but now you do. And you’re damn scared.

What if you surrender to your feelings now and go to Bucky and then comes a day you’ll realize that you were wrong and Eddie will still be the one you really want? You wanted him for so long… can that really have changed? How can one let go of that feeling, that certainty of being right for each other, without being afraid of doing the wrong thing? And if that happens, if you do the wrong thing now, you will eventually hurt Bucky and that’s definitely the last thing you want.

That’s fucked up and you know it. But it’s what you’re feeling.

You keep it to yourself, though.

~~~

It’s a few hours after the girls left your place, you take a refreshing and long bath and are about to put on a movie to relax a bit more for the rest of the evening. Maybe that way you can put your thoughts and feelings in order.

That duality of emotions is crushing your mind. You wanted some time alone and you had that… now, you can’t help the feeling that you need to come to a decision, a conclusion of some sort, you just can’t keep pushing it further. For better or for worse. Or you will lose your mind soon.

A comfort movie is in order for all the thinking you need to do, so you set “The Prisoner of Azkaban” on your TV before you head to the kitchen. You’re still pretty full of all the junk food the three of you made a feast of the whole afternoon, so you decide to prepare just an old recipe of peach iced tea your mom has taught you. Perfect for the hot weather, too.

You’ve just added the ice in the jar when your intercom rings. You frown wondering who could that be and check your phone for any missed calls or messages, finding none before answering the intercom.

“Yeah? Oh… no, yeah, sure, come up.” You press the button to let him in. Your heart beats just slightly faster, wondering what could he possibly be doing there.

“Hi,” he greets, once you open the door after he pressed the ringer.

“Hi,” you answer, and without even thinking, just keep staring at him, blocking his way into your apartment while he stands at your door, holding a big box in his hands.

“Can I come in?” He asks, when you say nothing else.

“Oh, yeah, of course, sorry.” You step aside, allowing Eddie to walk into your living room with a tight smile on his lips.

“Please,” you gesture towards your sofa and he nods, walking with you over there, “I was about to pour me some iced tea, would you like some?” You offer, tentativeness still present in your tone, while the big box secured in his hands grasps your attention for a second.

“Your mom’s recipe?” He asks, his whole face lightening up as he takes his seat.

You chuckle and nod.

“Oh, hell yeah, then.”

You take just a little longer than you actually need to fix the tea for the two of you in the kitchen. For some reason, his presence, after the night before, what you did with Bucky and after you coming to terms that you are, indeed, growing feelings for the other guy… it just unsettles you.

After taking a deep breath or two, you come back to the living room. Some small conversation ensues while you take a seat by his side and you two drink from the tea you’ve just prepared.

“Ahm…What’s that?” At some point you give in to the curiosity and nod towards the box now on your center table.

He smiles, before placing his cup on your table and taking the box in his hands. He shifts on the sofa, making room for placing it on one of the cushions between the two of you. “I was taking a look at it at home earlier, it just… I couldn’t help myself… and decided to come by to show you.”

When he opens the lid, placing it aside, you take in the contents, which makes your heart beat a bit funny at the surprise. You recognize pictures of the two of you, letters, a few souvenirs… All of them represent a memory of your relationship.

“Oh…” you say. You know all that stuff had been stashed in some place, but you never knew he had taken them with him once he moved out.

“Yeah…” Eddie brushes the back of his neck, peering at you from beneath his lashes, “I guess I really wasn’t that confident about my decision when I left…” he shrugs, looking down at the box again, “I just couldn’t leave it behind.”

You give him a tightened and brief smile, before placing your teacup on the table and starting to fumble through the items inside the box. You let out a breathy laugh when you find a picture of the day you two have met… he had founded a study group on advanced software creating techniques and you were the only one to show up.

“Oh my God…” you laugh.

“Yeah… what a couple of nerds,” Eddie chuckles, looking at the picture.

He helps you through the shuffling when you go through some more pictures from college, his family, your family… the day you two closed the deal to buy the apartment… the letter you received when you were both accepted in the Avengers tech team…

You feel the tears gathering in your eyes before they start silently rolling down your cheeks… It’s a weird sensation, it’s like meeting with an old part of yourself, an old friend. One that has never really left, but you almost don’t recognize anymore… leading to a nostalgic and longing feeling.

They’re all good memories stashed on that box… of course… you guess no one is really keen to proposedly keep a souvenir from the bad ones… but that’s not on what your focus lays right now. Your attention is caught by a particular thing from the box. A small gasp escapes your lungs at the sight.

You look up at Eddie, whose eyes have been intensely trained on you, before you grab the object in your hands.

It’s a scrapbook you two have made through college years. While you silently and carefully go through the pages your life passes in front of your eyes. Movie and concert tickets… more pictures… a few drawings… software ideas you had together… little notes you’ve written to each other… and then, on the very last couple of pages, there they are.

You remember them. The day you two decided to write a letter to each other, telling how you wanted your future to be.

You roam your fingers through the frayed papers… you don’t have to read them again to know what’s there. You remember. Without knowing, in the end you two had written the exact same thing in both letters… among other small stuff, you two wrote you wanted a kick ass job, live in the city in an apartment of your own… and stay together forever.

Your watery gaze follows when Eddie slides down to the floor and kneels before you, taking your hands in his, “I meant every word then and I still do,” he says, softly, staring deeply into your eyes, “I can’t see my future without you… I just can’t.” He shakes his head, before it drops.

You see how his lips twist before he looks up at you again, with a saddened look on his face, “I know how that guy makes you feel…”

Your body freezes just as your heart does and you feel the precise moment when it splits in two. That heavy sensation comes back to your chest when the image of Bucky pops into your mind and suddenly there are two lives running before your eyes. One there, with Eddie, with everything you've ever dreamed of… the other running straight into Bucky's arms and leaving all of that behind.

And you know there's only one right for you.

You're brought back to reality by the sound of Eddie's voice.

“I- I know about what happened last night, I, ahm, I’ve heard the girls…” he stammers but holds his hold on your hands when you shift on your seat and he senses your discomfort. “No… it’s ok. “I know it’s new… it’s exciting…” he continues, nodding and hastily licking his lips, “And you deserve to explore that. You do… it’s ok.” He puts on a small smile, “But I want you to know that I’m here. I’m waiting for you. I’m waiting for us… for our future. No matter how long it takes. How much fun you need to have with that guy before you realize what I already know.” He smiles wider, “Because I know you and I are it. We’ve always been it.”

You’re frowning while looking down at him. His words making their way into your senses.

You free one hand of his secured hold to reach over and cup his smiling face.

He leans into your touch.

You make a decision.

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky x Reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #it´s a deal #it's a deal ch. 13

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years

Text

Let’s talk: Vlive Asks and comment/chat discussions

From @cottoncandykings: Hello! As u probably know jimin just went live recently and again he mentioned mandaggo and discussing about doing it with tae. I just find it so weird though. I mean jimin keeps constantly mentioning it and its not like vminnies were begging or dying for a vmin live everyday even before jimin mentioned it last year. Even now most including myself dont really care that much ofc i m happy if they do one together. But the way jimin keeps mentioning it is so weird. Like surely if he wanted to do it so badly he could have talked to tae privately and arranged it by now. And if tae is the one that doesnt want to do it then idk why jimin is pushing it. But what was really weird to me this time was that he said there were lots of comments about mandaggo yesterday in zoom call and yet they didnt mention it yesterday but suddenly today without prompting he talks about it. I also hope no one spammed the zoom call chat or the vlive chat with requests for vmin live (i didnt see any) bcoz thats just unnecessary and demanding. I hope vminnies wont demand/ ask for another memeber when one of them is live. Its just disrespectful. This turned into a rant sorry. Do you think it was weird too?

Since Admin 2 can’t type their thoughts themselves, I’ll relay their thoughts to you instead, since they had more thoughts/opinions/ideas in regard to this than I do, to be honest.

Admin 2 is sure that there is a good chance that we will get a vmin vlive sometime soon, which I know contradicts their original opinion and post from a few months ago, but there’s a reason for it. During the zoom meeting between BTS and ARMY they noticed something I don’t think anyone else noticed, or at least neither of us has seen any vminnies mention it anywhere, which in conjunction with Jimin’s vlive today and saying how he’d talk to Tae about doing a mandaggo vlive again, as well as another observation a little while ago, leads them to this conclusion.

So, the observation from the zoom meeting. Basically at one point when the question of Jimin doing a vlive arose Tae looks at Jimin and then he nods while smiling which in turn makes Jimin smile as he turns away from Tae and back to face toward the camera before answering the question and saying how he’ll come visit us the next day. Which he did.

Then the other observation from a while ago, this one being from their OT7 vlive celebrating their BBH100 #1 on June 29th where at one point Jimin says something but slips into satoori after which Tae encourages him to say that again but this time in the Seoul accent, so the way they actually should speak, which Jimin says isn’t difficult but he doesn’t actually end up repeating what he said.

And lastly in today’s vlive Jimin mentioned how he’s using satoori quite often but that he isn’t all that good at doing it on command or at teaching it to others, which is something he’d have to do for mandaggo but I’m sure he’d manage just fine if the time came for it.

Based on that Admin 2′s thoughts are basically that Jimin really meant it when he said, last year, that he’ll bring Tae around for a vlive, that it wasn’t a joke or a way to tease us with something he knew he wouldn’t be able to deliver, but rather that up until this point they weren’t quite sure how to do it. Which sounds a bit odd, I know, but what they mean is that if vmin were to just sit down in front of the camera and were supposed to just talk based on what the chat would give them, it would likely just turn out awkward and weird and no one, including them, would really have fun. Even more so when we take into account how idiotic the chat is during regular vlives so now imagine if those two were to do one together that’s just a casual chat. It would likely end up in disaster and honestly I wouldn’t wish it upon them to read all those awful comments that they would likely get, even worse ones than they already get normally, to be honest.

But now that the whole satoori thing was brought up, and Jimin actually mentioned mandaggo and wanting to bring it back after so many years, Admin 2 thinks that they must’ve finally figured out a solution to their problem, if you can call it that. Doing mandaggo would basically mean they would have an activity, something to do similar to how they did those ASMR videos for the Japanese Fan Club which were fun and cute, and so Admin 2 thinks that perhaps chances are we will finally get the vlive we’ve waited for so long (though like many others I’ve long given up the idea).

Another confirmation is that during his vlive today Jimin basically said that he only came by for a little while since they are quite busy and had to soon get ready for work with the other members but that he’ll return in two or three weeks for a more proper, longer, vlive. So, he could’ve treated today’s vlive as the promised one but instead he saw it more as a bridging one between the zoom meeting and the proper vlive he wants to do, so is it the farfetched to think that he had proper plans for a vlive, like doing mandaggo, but it just wouldn’t have worked out time wise today so he moved the actual vlive he wanted to make to a later date?

One last thing (well two actually) that has nothing to do with this question but Admin 2 wanted me to include it anyway is that one, have you noticed how Tae and Jimin were both on weverse around 3 am (until almost 4am (also both of them posting a comment to some post at 03:41 am KST)) one after the other (though with one day of a break in between them) recently and then also two, that Jimin was up until like 6 am (since he posted on weverse around that time) on the 8th and then during the zoom meeting Tae answered a question by saying that he’d been awake until 6 am the previous day (also the 8th) since he wanted to see the sunrise? Which is also something an anon mentioned to us. Curious, isn’t it?

From anon: I request both admins to please post this ask. So jimin wwnt live today and one of the accounts on twt posted a screen cap of them commenting 'touch your hair if vmin is real' in the live chat and jimin's reaction to it. Now idk if it is an edit or real. No matter i just want to say its not ok to bring up ships in front of the members no matter which ship it is. We dont know the reality of their relationship so lets not make them uncomfortable. Its not a joke. Its not funny. Be respectful the members are real people.

(Admin 1 taking over from this point onward) This ask nicely ties into the last one that’ll be further down in this post since they cover a similar issue of sorts. But let’s start with this one asking about, essentially, vlive comments and the things fans ask/comment, which also ties in with the above ask as well.

The thing with the vlive chat, and especially comments/questions that are like anon said, questions or “commands/requests” about touch your hair if XYZ ship is real or cough twice if you love XYZ member or, likewise, comments such as where is XYZ member or what are the other members doing, unfortunately those have been a steady and unchanging part of the vlive chat since basically forever. It’s been an issue on and off with different intensities though I feel like it’s gotten worse again this year. Particularly if we look back at the vlive Tae did with Hobi and Yoongi and how essentially the entire chat was filled with comments related to Xkook and not much else.

If my memory doesn’t fail me we once even had a situation some years ago (2016) where the chat during Hobi’s vlive was so bad, as in so full of questions about that other members instead of him, that you could see he was upset about it and eventually he handed over the vlive to Jimin, whom the chat had requested Hobi to visit, and Hobi just left. And I can’t blame him for it since the chat must’ve made him feel like basically no one cared about him so what was even the point of him being there, right?

Personally I’ve long given up looking at the comments during vlive because they just make me cringe and feel bad for the members, especially when I think back to vlives such as Yoongi’s D2 one last year where he was so excited to talk about the songs and the process of making the mixtape and yet so many of the comments were just unrelated nonsense and annoying request like speak english or can you say my name or say hello in XYZ language. If it makes me question why the people posting those questions are in the chat, why they are fans to begin with, imagine what the members must feel like, how discouraging that must feel like. After all they are musicians and yet so rarely do they get questions about that. Or rather they do get them but they are just drowned out by nonsense. Which is a shame. And also very disrespectful but any attempts that were made to remind people to be respectful, to remember their place as fans, to focus on the member that’s doing the vlive instead of asking about the others, and to keep ships away from the members have failed because some don’t care and will continue to not care.

From anon: what are your opinions on the Qs that were asked during that zoom meeting thing between BTS and ARMY?

Now I’d like to preface my answer to this last question by saying that by no means do my grievances come from a place of jealousy or anything. I’m very happy for all the ARMYs that won their spot, that they got to participate in the event and that BTS got to see ARMYs again even if only on screens and not in person still. No, my issue stems from something completely different, and I don’t want to say that the system chose the wrong people, because that would be mean and also who even knows how the winners were chosen, if it was pure luck or there were some actual criteria that went into the process, but the fact is that only a select 200 ARMYs got that spot out of however many that applied, so basically for some this was a once in a lifetime chance, right, even just getting this close to asking Bangtan a question and have really great chances of having them give you an answer while acknowledging you somewhat instead of just seeing pure words on a screen, you know what I mean?

Now imagine you are one of those 200 ARMYs and you get the chance to fill the chat with questions along with the other 49 participants of your session and you decide that asking questions such as what it’s like for Jimin to work as angel, if Namjoon ever broke a bicycle, or why JK smells the crowns of the other members heads? Or even worse, you decide to ask about JKs shower routine and in which order he washes his body? And sure, the “fault” doesn’t fall completely on the ARMYs alone, after all it’s the members who read out those questions and not some magical off screen entity, and since I wasn’t part of the event I can’t say with a hundred percent certainty that no one asked any “proper” questions, but if those were the questions that ended up being read out loud, is it that hard to guess that likely all the questions looked similarly?

Which brings me to my main grievance of it all: have you forgotten that you are fans of musicians and not reality TV stars or vloggers/influencers? I know there were likely no rules for what questions you could or couldn’t ask (except for probably ones that were 100% about shipping or far too personal), but really, you get to ask your favorite band a question, something you might never, ever get the chance to do again, and your first thought isn’t to ask about their music but instead about some unimportant nonsense like the angel question or if they differentiate between the clothes they wear at home and those they sleep in? Like sure the angel one was kinda funny, maybe, and Jimin handled it in a cute way, I applaud him for it, but was that really necessary?

I know someone asked JK about Decalcomania, as well as Tae about his mixtape, and Yoongi/Jimin about Tony Montana (season 2), but other than that were there any other questions about their music? Perhaps I’m overthinking things, maybe I’m exaggerating and maybe I’m the only one who sees an issue with this, but if I would’ve won a spot, I’d rather have asked something about their process when writing lyrics or creating beats or how they prepare when learning new choreographies, what it’s like to be on tour (though perhaps that would be a mean question seeing as tours aren’t really something that’ll continue being possible for a while still), you get the point.

It makes me wonder if it was just bad luck or if it had something to do with how old the participants were (I saw some being as young as fifteen), which isn’t to say that teens can’t ask smart questions because they definitely can just like adults can ask stupid ones as well, but somewhere something, in my opinion, just went weirdly. And maybe that was the point of it all, for the event to be casual, funny, lighthearted, but my question then is when is the time for music discussions? For fans to ask those types of questions that actually have something to do with the boys careers? When even journalists aren’t asking them proper questions, ARMYs aren’t either, so what is the point of it all then?

Then again, after the event concluded and Seokjin came onto vlive he seemed so happy and excited, so maybe they had fun (I mean they seemed to have fun) and didn’t mind at all that the questions were lighthearted and silly, maybe I’m the one making mountains out of molehills. I don’t know, but anon wanted to know my thoughts/opinions, and this is them. Once again, I don’t mean to be mean toward the ARMYs that got rightfully in, that won, and I don’t want to insult them for the questions they asked, perhaps I just expected/hoped for something a little different? And perhaps I’m the only one. I don’t know.

#answered ask #BTS #vmin #jimin #Vmin vlive

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