#i wish i had a more pastel yellow but whatevs. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thru-the-grapevine · 1 year

Text

A Spoonful of Sugar

Pairing: Baker!Yuta x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff and absolute silliness

Word Count: 1717

In hindsight, you should have looked up your alternate route to work before just randomly picking one. But then again, how were you supposed to know that the new route would also have a bakery? Trying to curb your addiction to baked goods was going to be more difficult than expected.

However, you would not be true to yourself if you didn’t at least have a quick peek at this new discovery. If therapy taught you anything, it was to follow your passions. And this morning, your passion just so happened to be whatever that delightful smell was.

So, you pushed open the glass door and made your way inside the warmth of the shop. Immediately, your senses were delighted with the smells of baking bread and freshly brewed coffee. In front of you stood a small, but packed display counter full of muffins, breads, pastries, and all manner of sweets.

The menu behind the counter was handwritten a little messily, but still readable as you poured over the coffee and tea options. Oh, this was both a brilliant idea and an absolute mistake. There was no way you weren’t leaving without at least a blueberry muffin and a cappuccino to go.

“Can I get you anything?” A voice jerked you out of your daydream of how wonderful a muffin sounded right about now. You looked over to the cash register where the most handsome man you’d ever seen was giving you a cheerful smile.

He was also the last man you’d expect to be working at a cute little bakery had you encountered him on the street. His dyed red hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, revealing his dark brown roots. His ears were covered in earrings, and you spied several tattoos visible where he’d rolled up his sleeves. His clothes were dark and artfully ripped, a striking contrast to the pastel yellow walls around him, and the floral apron he wore.

Oh, you were staring. Oops. You cleared your throat. “Um, yes! I’d like, uh, a blueberry muffin and…” you trailed off, eyes back on the drink menu.

“If you like tea, the green tea latte is a personal favorite of mine,” the man said. “And I promise it’s not just because it’s my specialty.”

Did he just wink at you? He definitely just winked at you. You coughed and mumbled, “Sure, I’ll try that.”

The man grinned. He packaged your muffin and drink for you, rang you up at the register, and waved as you left the store with a, “Thanks! Please come again!”

You were in such a daze the rest of your walk to work that you nearly walked right past the office building. Hoping none of your coworkers saw you, you waddled back to the building, flashing your badge at the security officer, saying, “Morning, Steve.”

He wished you a good morning too, and you joined the throngs of people dressed in their best work clothes waiting for the elevator. Finally remembering you spent money, you took a sip of the green tea latte and had to stop yourself from exclaiming out loud. It was good! Normally, this type of drink wouldn’t be up your alley, but this one was delightful. You couldn’t wait to try the muffin.

Once at your desk, you unwrapped the muffin and sighed happily as you breathed in the sweet smell. It only took one bite for you to decide you would definitely be going back to this bakery. The muffin was incredible, and somehow paired perfectly with the green tea latte. Maybe Mondays weren’t so terrible after all.

The next morning dawned cold and rainy. The perfect morning for a piping hot coffee and a warm pastry, you mused. Naturally, despite the horrid weather, you found yourself walking to the bakery once again.

And once again, you were greeted with the cheerful smile of the handsome worker, his hair once again pulled back in a messy ponytail. You couldn’t help smiling back with a shy wave.

“Same thing as yesterday?” he asked, leaning on the counter.

You shook your head. “I want to try something new. But thank you for the tea recommendation yesterday. You were right, it was amazing!”

The man beamed. “You won’t find a better one anywhere! They’re a Yuta exclusive,” he said with a wink.

You turned your head away just in case you were blushing. Couldn’t have him seeing that. But still, you were pleased. He told you his name. Yuta.

All throughout your meetings, your mind drifted to Yuta. Even long after you’d finished your coffee and strawberry pastry, you heard his voice in the back of your mind.

This worried you. After all, you had a career to focus on! Drifting away to thoughts of some pretty man who happened to know how to bake during important meetings was not like you in the slightest. You prided yourself on your impeccable work ethic, always striving for perfection, sometimes to the point of near exhaustion. But thanks to you, your department flourished. And for your efforts, the bonuses came frequently. You couldn’t complain.

And yet, there you were, drifting into Yuta’s bakery every single morning. And every single morning he greeted you with a bright smile. When the weather was terrible, he made your warm drink as quickly as he could.

“You need to warm up your hands!” he would always exclaim. You didn’t mind. You had to admit, the attention was nice.

Even when there were other customers in line, Yuta would have your green tea latte ready to go before you could decide on your morning treat. And every time you asked, Yuta had a recommendation.

You weren’t sure if it was a coincidence, but you noticed some of your favorites becoming more regular in the display as well. No, surely this was a coincidence. They were probably some of his best sellers, so it made sense he’d make them more frequently.

As the holidays approached, and the weather grew colder and grayer, you were grateful for the cheerful bakery and its warm goodies. Some mornings, you could barely get out of bed. Only the thought of a hot drink and a sweet treat could get you going. And maybe the thought of seeing Yuta helped a little. Maybe.

You couldn’t help your attraction to him. He always seemed so at ease, so comfortable in the world, as if he could ride any wave life threw his way.

You felt like his opposite: always dressed in professional clothing. It was a little stiff, but you believed in making the best first impression with your clients. And your world required deadlines and perfect reports. Yuta’s world was sugar and cinnamon, colors and laughter. Yours was spreadsheets and formalities.

No, your silly little crush was just that: a silly little crush. Yuta was merely a polite worker, intent on making a profit with his business. You weren’t even sure he knew your name.

One particularly frosty morning, Yuta decided to prove you very wrong.

Your visit to the bakery started like any other. You ordered your drink and pastry (the cinnamon rolls smelled delectable). Yuta was cheerful as always.

But as you went to check out, Yuta stopped you before you could pull out your card. “Today is on me,” he said.

You took a moment to register his words, your attention focused on his hand covering yours. Was it warm in here? “Huh?” you looked up at him.

Yuta smiled. “Today is on me. And… well…” You had never once seen Yuta hesitate. The man was always coming up with something to say, exuding confidence. But now he was almost unsure, looking away from you and fiddling with the hem of his apron. “I wanted to ask you… if you’d like to, well, I wanna take you on a date.”

A date.

A date. A date. A date?!

“I don’t have a whole lot of money, but I was wondering if you’d like to come over and, well, help me taste test? I have some ideas for the bakery, and you always seem so enthusiastic?”

You stared at him. He wanted to bake for you. For you?? Feeling your heart speed up, you realized you hadn’t said anything. Poor Yuta was looking at you nervously, hopefully.

You opened your mouth to respond when the front door slammed open. You jumped, turning instinctively to see a man in a mask, holding a knife as he stalked toward you and the register.

Before you could react, he grabbed your arm, shoving the knife at you threateningly. “Gimme all your money, or she gets hurt,” he snarled at Yuta.

Yuta’s eyes were wide, but he held his hands up. “Okay, okay, hang on,” he said carefully, moving to the register.

Remembering him telling you he didn’t have much money, rage filled you. So you did what any sensible woman would do. You grabbed the man’s arm, placed your foot against his, and flipped him over. He cried out in surprise as you took the knife from him and stood on his chest with your full weight. “Don’t move,” you said coldly.

You looked up at Yuta who was staring at you, mouth wide open. “How-” he started.

“Yes, I know martial arts. I have a stressful job. I had to unwind somehow,” you said defensively, a little embarrassed that you did all of that in your pencil skirt.

Yuta’s open mouth formed into the widest grin you’d seen him do yet. “I would very much like to kiss you now,” he said dreamily.

You flushed. “That’s very sweet of you. Perhaps you should call the police first,” you gestured to the man groaning in pain beneath your feet. You were sure your heels could not be comfortable. Oh well.

“Oh yeah,” Yuta said, turning to the phone. “But like, seriously, will you go on a date with me?” he asked before punching in the numbers.

You hid your face behind your hands. “Yes, of course I’ll go on a date with you! Please, this is so embarrassing,” you mumbled.

Yuta’s twinkling laugh would echo in your ears throughout your entire work day as you watched the clock, begging for it to move faster. After all, you had a date.

#yuta x reader #nakamoto yuta #nakamoto yuta x reader #yuta x you #nct yuta #nct yuta x reader #nct yuta x you #nct one shot #yuta one shot #yuta fluff #nakamoto yuta fluff #nct fluff #admin rae #rae writes #rae's fluff #dont talk to me about this man #he is too much for my tiny brain #also i would like him to bake me sweets

206 notes · View notes

watashime-ciel · 6 months

Text

my personal Rhythm Heaven headcanons

•at the moment i started typing this i had no electricity (12/4/2023 15:29) but ok lol

-DJ Yellow is very good at practically all subjects at school, except for math. he sleeps most of the year, so he has to intensify his grades in 2 weeks before the school year ends, and math is a pain. so while he studies, he asks Blue for help with "Whatever an ecuation is..." (still learning stuff from high school because he never intensified his math grades that much)

-J.J and Cecil live together in an apartment in Tokyo, while DJ Yellow and Blue live together in another apartment somewhere 40 minutes away from Tokyo. this makes both DJs wake up earlier to catch the train to get to school, which is a hard task for Yellow. this man either goes to sleep at 6am or doesn't sleeps at all. how do you want him to be at the train station at 6:10am to catch the train, travel for 40 minutes, get to Tokyo at 6:50am and walk to school to get there at 7:15am? think again mister, that's not a possible action on this dude. better wait until the update comes. /lh

-DJ Yellow dresses up with whatever he wants. this includes skirts, dresses, all kinds of feminine clothes. because why not? it's his gender expression, let him be, brother. don't be surprised if he shows up at a convention dressed up as Rui Kamishiro and in day 2 he is cosplaying Hatsune Miku NT. while he's happy then it's okay, isn't it?

-important headcanon: the school everyone in Rhythm Heaven +my RH ocs go to is an all-in-one school. from primary school to college, university, everything. so yeah, they're technically adults, young adults, that even if they have a job they go to school to learn basics such as math, history, etc, BUT with rhythm. there's an interesting story about this school that is located in, SURPRISE, Tokyo (not really. all fictional), but today is not the day or time to talk about it (my 4g data is limited and so is my battery- plz electricity come back quick)

-DJ Yellow's favourite music artists, groups and bands are: More!More!Jump!, Wonderlands x Showtime, Steampianist, Hello, Happy World!; RAISE A SUILEN, Raychell, Skrillex, Mitchie M, Pastel*Palettes, Nightcord at 25:00, MARETU, DECO*27, Eve, Vivid BAD Squad, Alan Walker, all of the D4DJ groups but specially Happy Around!, all of the Heathers Musical songs, Kawaii Sprite, GHOST And Pals, Banshee, RudyWade, Goreshit and, most importantly, an 80% of remixes of the Monster song (you look up Monster remix and you tell me when you know what i'm talking about)

-Blue's favourites: Cuarteto de Nos, GHOST And Pals, Daisuke-P, Omoi, Kikuo, Jakeneutron, KairikiBear, Roselia, Steampianist, Nayutailen, TOPHAMHAT-KYO, Lemon Demon, FAKE TYPE., girl in red and The Living Tombstone

-J.J and Cecil have similar taste in music, such as last note., wowaka, Wind Rose, Lemon Demon, Afterglow, Roselia, Leo/Need, The GazettE, GOLDEN BOMBER, HACHI... but Cecil is a bit different on his playlists, since he has Bluey music added such as Keepy Uppy and Lollipop Yum Yum Yum, and maybe some Imagination Movers music

-everyone speaks japanese and english, buuuuuut: Yellow speaks spanish (Spanish, Mexican, Colombian, neutral, Chilenian and Argentine accent), he's learning French and is interested in Hawaiian. Blue speaks Indonesian more fluently than Japanese or English, since he was born and raised his first 7 years of life in Indonesia. J.J speaks Italian, which is his 'original' language (?). and Cecil knows a bit of French and Hawaiian. super convenient for Yellow, but he's not talking with "one of those guys". yeaaaah the Rockers vs DJs conflict has been going on for a while now

thats all i can share as for now. i really wish my electricity comes back soon, i cannot live with 4g and less than 80% of battery for a week. remember all of these are headcanons and theres NO NEED to attack or negatively criticize them if you don't like em. tenkius :P

13 notes · View notes

toastydoll · 7 months

Text

Okay, inspired by @dollsinvogue’s most recent post about the wave 1 refresh dolls, here’s what I’m hoping for! First off, I’m thinking everyone gets at least a few accessories, including a phone, plus there was a hint about a pet which tbh feels a little too similar to monster high but okay MGA forgo subtlety. As for the slime, I’m hoping it’ll be like the og slime rainbow surprise girlies, ie optional, or something like what novi stars used to do with their lava-lamp-esque dolls only in the pets or stands or accessories or whatever lol.

Ruby: my Supreme darling…is supposedly a sneaker head? Lmao okay so that’s why MGA gave her two pairs of heels right. What’s that? Her accessories pack? It’s also heels. MGA come on what the hell. I know jade was supposed to be “girl in sneakers” (and sunny sort of ig) but come ON. Ruby rerelease comes in a supreme insp outfit complete w a Supreme beanie, Supreme shirt, her signature red jeans (with a more bold graphic design to them. More graffiti!!), and a big red puffer. Her shoes are red heeled sneakers, because that’s my compromise w mga, with graffiti art details. Her accessories are spray paint cans in red gold and black, detailing brushes, a can of sealant, and a blank pair of sneakers for YOU to customize (doesn’t come w markers but any washable markers/colors are fine a la color create). Her pet is a red snake named Firebrand a la g3 hissette (wearable).

Poppy: my beachiest beach girl! She’s so sweet and one of my favorites from wave 1. She’s kind of a mix of different styles and brands, the most noticeable for me being her off white “for flying” boots. First of all: poppy now has full body freckles like Victoria. I love that she has blue eyes bc I think they’re lovely w her hair, but brown eyes would also be gorgeous w the overall orange theme. I’d like to keep the monarch butterfly theme bc it’s peak so she’ll keep the butterfly clips and second shoes. She’s definitely getting a beachier boho vibe, starting w a blouse similar to her jh. Tbh maybe even as a blousy flowy dress. Her accessories are of COURSE her monarch headphones bc those are so good and how have we not gotten them, plus a few vinyls of the rainbow high albums and a laptop to DJ from. Her pet is a giant monarch butterfly named Mari, which can clip onto her arm.

Sunny: yellow is my favorite color so I’m so so biased about sunny but she’s my girl and I’d die for her. First of all, new face sculpt: she’s got the AA face sculpt for sure this time. Second of all, new hairstyle. I think she’d be super cute with little twists, including little twist blunt bangs. She styles it in the twin buns still, plus she does her edges under the bangs. She’s also got Lila’s bandaid and stickers for peak kawaii. I like her yellow green eyes but I wish rh had more black girls w brown eyes so i think warm yellow brown would be gorgeous too. Her outfit is an oversized yellow rain slicker, slouchy pastel yellow sweater with sun and moon elbow patches, a chunky decora necklace, bright yellow denim shorts, her rainbow knee highs, and a pair of yellow rain boots. Her accessories are a sketchbook, rainbow colored pencils, a pencil sharpener, an eraser, a laptop with an art program on it, and mini stickers to put on either the laptop or the pages of the sketchbook. Her pet is a little yellow shiba named Kawaii with a pastel rainbow collar.

Jade: my edgy tomboy!! She’s cute in wave 1 but not quite edgy enough (the common complaint w jade) and a little too Billie eilish (the other common complaint w jade). The big t shirt and knee length shorts can stay bc those are rad as hell, plus she’s got some nice refs to anti social social club (less popular than when the dolls released but still a thing). Her new shirt is the same oversized black but with glow in the dark skulls and hearts in addition to the anti sparkle sparkle club. Her shorts are the same graffiti with chains for drawstrings and a little more detailing. Her puffer is cute but I think she’d be cuter w an oversized black and green hoodie, also w the assc logo. Sneakers are a yes but hello Um can you put on socks jade. Even black mesh is better than nothing. I prefer her balenciaga sneakers so more of that lol. Biggest difference will be in the face though bc my girl is a makeup focus w the most boring face lmaoooo. She’s getting a black lip, graphic black eyeliner, and neon green eyeshadow. Her brows are on point and her contour is insane. She still has her beanie in green, but instead of her current hair she has a black side shave and a choppier punker cut. Her accessories are all makeup related, including an eyeshadow palette, compact powder blush, three different lipsticks (red, green, black), mascara, eyeliner, false lashes (non usable),and a full set of makeup brushes. Her pet is a giant black and green tarantula named Billie that can clip onto her shoulder.

Skyler: so sweet, so shy, so underutilized by MGA. I love her denim color theme, esp in her hair, so I’m keeping that for sure. I also love her references to off white, since they’re more focused than poppy’s. This time sky comes w tight coily curly hair and a mixed face sculpt. She’s got high waisted denim bell bottoms w massive bells, almost like JNCO jeans (which would also be a great denim callback), a white cotton cropped turtleneck tank top, and a tailored denim jacket. She still has her off white heels but tbh the shoes are less important for this fit bc the pants are the focal lol. Her accessories are really similar to the rh w5 accessories: a sewing machine and accoutrement. She also has a design sketchbook a la fantastic fashion, a small sewing kit, and three bolts of different denim (light, medium, dark). Her pet is a bright blue bird named Lark that can also clip to her shoulder.

Violet: notorious for constantly giving us nothing, I’m gonna try and finally fix violet. She has the standard Asian face sculpt with purple blue eyes and long straight violet hair w blunt bangs. Her original release felt like her vibe was posh party girl, so I’d like to lean into that with a light purple sequin two piece skirt set, fluffy glittery cropped coat, and glittery party heels. She’s got glittery barrettes holding her hair back behind her bangs and a light purple clutch purse (equally glittery ofc). Her accessories are a selfie stick w ring light for her phone, a laptop with photo editing software, and a larger desktop ring light that actually lights up. Her fluffy white cat Mr. Whiskers finally makes his debut as well, sporting a violet collar.

#rainbow high #rh #was considering doing amaya but idk

18 notes · View notes

edwinspaynes · 5 months

Note

aaand jordelia + patiently helping them put their shoes on 🫶🏻

This is going to be a sort of two-in-one with another prompt I got last week from @furoruisa, who requested James and Cordelia at the theatre seeing another couple kiss. I felt like both ideas went well together, so I hope that's okay <3

I Can See You (Up Against a Wall With Me)

Cordelia was a vision in rose.

The pastel hue made the warm tones of her dark skin stand out, and her red-hennaed hair worked with the lace to create a stark contrast of soft comfort and hard angles. She was stunning, absolutely glorious, and James felt himself suck in a breath as he watched her descend barefoot down the stairwell. "Well?" She asked, her voice playful. "Is it so terrible?"

"Terrible?" James could barely get the word out. She was every one of his dreams come to life, down to the small daisies that she had strung through the thick strands of hair that trailed down close to her waist. "Daisy, you're..." so lovely I forgot to breathe. "You look perfect," he said instead.

"At least I go perfectly well with your necktie," she said. "We ought to form a sort of brigade. 'Pastel Passion,' perhaps?"

"Alliterative," James said. "As always, I love your ideas. Though I'm not sure that I would call my tie pastel," he argued. "More of a canary yellow than anything, I would say."

Cordelia giggled. "No, that is certainly more pale-yellow than lemon," she said. "But in any event, it brings out your eyes."

"Eldrich eternal flames?" James joked. "Very well, Daisy. I can accept that. In fact, I'm rather relieved - I will admit that I feared clashing. I haven't Matthew's sense of style, and I have felt my own appearance dwindling in his absence."

"Well, if this is you with a 'dwindled' appearance, I cannot imagine seeing you at whatever it is that you consider your fullest potential." She waved a hand as though indicating the great unknown, and James had the immediate urge to grasp it, to press the palm of her slim, elegant hand in his own, to kiss her as breathless as he had been when she descended the stairwell...

But no. No, he could not do that. "We cannot be late," he mumbled, talking himself down from his desperate yearning to feel his wife against him.

"That's true. I wouldn't wish to miss the beginning of Cinderella. And if we wish to get champagne before the show, which, let us be honest, is essential..."

"We must go. Agreed," James said. "But before that, here." He bent down to pick up one of Cordelia's glimmering red high-heels; they had small roses affixed to the sides, a lovely fashion that would surely work wonders with her ensemble.

He held it there, and Cordelia raised an eyebrow. "Why are you holding my shoe? Is this some odd Cinderella-related jest?"

"Because I am your prince?" James cracked a tiny smile. "Yes. Of course. Though I fancy myself as more of a Keats hero. Dark, brooding, handsome-"

"Yes, yes, I know your many merits," Cordelia laughed, lifting her foot. James slipped the shoe on, and the fit was perfect; he chuckled as she lifted her foot into the other as well.

"I'd no idea that your right foot was so much bigger than the left," James teased, helping her up. "Perhaps you'll need to take it to some special shoe-sizing facility for a perfect fit."

Cordelia whacked him. "My feet are as perfect as the rest of me," she chided. And, placing her arm on James's, they strode off into the springtime air.

They sat in their booth, watching the story unfold before them. Of course, Cordelia had always known it. She may not feel as strong a connection to the princesses in the western canon as she did to the heroes that graced the Shahnameh's pages, but she did have some experience with fairy tales, both dark and otherwise. The evil stepsisters began cutting off chunks of her feet, and Cordelia felt riveted despite knowing the ending. "Is this an excellent rendition," she whispered to James, "or is it simply the champagne?"

"Oh, champagne. Definitely." James's voice held such conviction that Cordelia found herself believing him entirely. "I do not understand how these women thought that the loss of limbs would be worth the fame and fortune of royalty." He shuddered.

"I am certain that counting their money might improve their mood," Cordelia said. "Though I do doubt that the money would be enough to cover the hospital expenses after an at-home amputation..."

"Not a lot of foresight there," James agreed.

And they watched until the prince found Cinderella and sat before her, her foot sliding into the slipper like a glove on a hand. Cordelia's face felt warm as she remembered how James had bent before her earlier, how he had smiled up at her in the same way that this man was now looking at the beautiful Cinderella as though she had hung the moon.

And she felt warmer still when they began kissing.

Cordelia raised a gloved hand to her lips and brushed over them gently. Perhaps James...

But no. James was not looking at her at all; his body was as stiff as the heavy oak accents in the theatre as he seemed to single-mindedly focus on the play. As though transfixed, he watched the setup of the wedding scene...

"Horrid birds," he whispered to her as the stepsisters' eyes were pecked out by some very fake-looking pigeons. "It's as my father says. One can never trust them."

"I thought that was just ducks?"

"I think we're well beyond that," James said darkly, and Cordelia stifled a laugh. She assessed James in the darkness; his eyes were clever, all gleaming light and liquid gold. And his lips were slightly parted, soft and sweet. Now that she had imagined it, Cordelia felt horribly needy; she wished to be kissed, now, and by the Angel she would be.

So as soon as the curtain closed, Cordelia grabbed James's hand. Their programs slid to the ground, but who truly cared about something so mundane as a program? The memories were the only keepsake Cordelia needed, she decided, and James would need to contend with whatever complaints he may have on his own time. She could not fathom that he would be too forlorn, considering that he was walking after her just as quickly as she was dragging him.

They made it into another room, a smaller theatre, one that oddly reminded her of the Whispering Room in which they had shared their first kiss nearly two years ago.

She grabbed his hand and pressed him up against one wall hard. Her hand wove its way around his head, and she breathed him in, pulled her close. James's lips tasted as sweet and bubbly as the champagne they had enjoyed, and Cordelia hoped that hers held a harder edge as she moved against him, loosening his tie, pushing up against his body...

"I think it's time to go home," James said, pulling away with dark, blazing eyes.

Cordelia could not agree more.

#the prompts will not all be this long #but this i just rolled with man #i definitely was vibing it #this is long enough to go on ao3 #jordelia #herondaisy #james herondale #cordelia carstairs

13 notes · View notes

sylvanianfamiliez · 2 months

Text

going to be autistic on here abt bjd eyes

i’ve been experimenting w trying to make bjd eyes for years at this point and im like confident in my skills but i’m struggling to find the right materials. i watch a lot of various eye makers’ tutorials to see what they use but the problem i always find is that most of them don’t seem to worry abt how the eyes will hold up longterm, which is smth i rly want for mine. like using uv resin for the base will yellow so bad….not to mention the health effects

so it’s like health + longevity that bothers me. i don’t want to use toxic materials for my eyes and risk my health for it. stop using resin without proper ventilation and shit inside your home. please.

my best bet rn is polymer clay for the bases and it works great but the major problem i have is dust in the pure white of the eyes…gonna try some ways of minimising this but i also can’t spend all my energy trying to reduce dust in my environment bcuz it’ll give me a heart attack from the stress. plus i can’t seem to get it to smoosh perfectly in the silicone molds…it’s always got some dents. that’s probably just practice though

so for the dust my thinking was maybe i’d just cover it in acrylic paint after, but acrylic paint stays a bit sticky and attracts dust anyway so. it kinda cancels out. i’ve thought about other materials to use as a base but it always comes back to yellowing. i wondered whether maybe thermoplastic could work but i couldn’t find anything about the yellowing rates so, maybe i’ll try it and leave it sometime but i don’t have high hopes

but then ofc there’s the problem of The Oven. i make the irises out of polymer clay bcuz that’s what works best for me. i’ve never been able to use pastels for my colours bcuz it just looks gross and grainy and muddy no matter what i do, so polymer clay is pretty non negotiable. which means whatever i use for the bases has to be oven safe

and the bubbles in the domes as well…it’d be good to get a pressure chamber someday but that’s a more serious piece of kit than i have room for rn. laeli suggested trying a vibrator to agitate the bubbles which i wanna try so bad lol. but i need to get the resin first….i wanna try art resin cuz it’s supposed to be non toxic so i could use it indoors. and i saw some tests where it was super resistant to yellowing as well. so it sounds perfect but since it’s 2 part resin i’d have to have a lot of eyes prepped beforehand so i don’t waste it all as it’s not cheap !!

im thinking about seeing if i could do the bases with art resin as well but since it’s only non toxic on its own cuz it doesn’t react with anything else in the air, i don’t know what pigments i could use if any. apparently their pigments they make are kinda ass and i’d need it to be a really solid white. they also don’t sell the pigments individually afaik. i’d like to try a white gel pigment but again !! i don’t know how it’ll react. it’d probably be fine but i wish i had the info…..plus i don’t know if it would just melt in the oven. you shouldn’t really put resin in the oven. and if it worked i’d definitely want to get my own little oven sooner as i’m just experimenting w the kitchen one first….bcuz it comes back to the toxic fumes. but even if i did that’s also. having the space for it

UAGH !! you see why i am going round in circles….i wish i could be one of those girlies that just fucks up their lungs and makes eyes that go yellow in 2 years and be happy but unfortunately i care for both myself and my product. i think i’m gonna have to just work on making my space dust free for the white polymer clay but I DONT WANNAAAAAA

#my awesome autism rant

4 notes · View notes

fairytimestudio · 10 months

Text

Glassheart DEVLOG 2

8/6/2023

PROMOTION, MARKETING AND SOCIAL MEDIA

Lets start with the non-game related stuff...

In an attempt to get the word out about the game, I spent most of this week setting up my socials as well as putting up more content for the game. If you're interested in seeing more artwork related to the development of Glassheart and other stuff I work on in my down time you can find me on Instagram and Twitter.

Though with all the stuff that's going on on Twitter or X or whatever it's called nowadays I'm a wee bit reluctant to post anything there.

I also made a Linktree. Here she is:

Her name's Rita and she's a Leo.

ART

In terms of art I haven't got as much done this week. I did a bit more work on Anya's room and began solidifying the aesthetic I was going for. Basically each region of the world will have it's own sort of colour scheme and for Hedona that scheme is blue, pink, green and yellow (and some lavenders).

I want Hedona to feel dreamy and fairytale-like so I'm using a lot of pastels in the art. I also love how Anya's deep purples and blacks contrast with her bedroom and the rest of the cottage. It makes sense for a characterization. Speaking of Anya.

I also gave Anya a bit of a makeover from her first look. Due to her shifting role in the story I gave her a darker outfit with purple and black being the main colours and dark green and gold being an accent.

before, Anya was supposed to be you archetypical princess character. Kind, good-hearted, a little on the meek side but still had a rebellious streak to her. Think a Princess Aurora or Cinderella. But due to a drastic change to the stories themes her personality had to follow suit.

Instead she plays the role of the witch or evil stepsister within the narrative(or at least that's how she's perceived).

I also wanted to add some drama to her face so I gave her a bit more eyeshadow as well as some glitter. I wrestled with the glitter because I felt it might look out of place in a story but came to the realization that I don't care and I want everybody that where's makeup in the story to be well acquainted with glitter.

I also worked on the logo for FairyTime studio. The official logo is the second one though I might change it. We'll see.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Ianthe Rosingbird (@ianthefairytime)

instagram

And now onto the music!

MUSIC

So, I'm a solo dev. Let's remember that when we listen to some of the tracks I've come up with.

But seriously these are rough, basically just a few motifs and melodies to help guide me when I actually beginning making my songs but here they are.

I was inspired by again, golden age Disney music namely Once Upon a Dream and Snow White's Wishing Well song. That certainly isn't coming through now but I'm still in very early production with these pieces. I composed them with a music box instrument because it helps me focus on the melody and also I fucking love music boxes. My logo's actually based on a Polyphonic Music Box I fell in love with and just have to have one day.

Basically, I want the music to feel magical and nostalgic and I hope I'll be able to capture that when I actually start the composition.

WRITING

I've mainly been focusing on world building this week as well as determining the role that certain characters will play and the new Version of Glassheart.

Basically this story's gone through 3 phases and I'm currently trying to smoosh some other projects I was working on into this one but here's what I came up with.

Glassheart takes place in a country called Hedona at two opposing colleges seperated by a bridge:

The Garden of Crowns; The college Anya and the bulk of the cast attend and Wellwood's Cross; this is the opposing college that often times finds itself in competition with its neighbour. While the rivalry between these colleges can often seem light-hearted; there's real animosity between the two tribes especially fuelled by the adults.

This rivalry is further exasperated when Anya Torre, whose father is a well known alumni of the college, decides to offer her Blade to Bravis Swanthorn, a student of Wellwood's Cross and it's crowned champion in the sport of sword fighting.

She is branded as the Treacherous Blade and ousted from polite society with no one to defend her, not even her beloved half-sister, Beatrice Prine. She resigns herself to playing the role of a villainess and takes up refuge in Toad Cottage far off from the colleges and close to edge of the woods.

This is where the story begins to take off.

Now one thing that important to note about the world is the idea of Blades and their wielders. Essentially, a princess(which in this world refers to any young woman of a certain age) is able to draw a power out of her heart and manifest a blade that can be used in battle. Think Revolutionary Girl Utena.

There are two measures used to discern the strength of a blade: Sharpness - Which refers to how sharp and strong the blade is Lightness - Which refers to how light the blade is to hold.

The best blades are described as being "near-Glass" as no blade has ever managed to be fully classified as glass.

The elusive glass blade or Glassheart, is a blade so sharp and light that it has the power to tear through the fabric of reality and manifest the wielders thoughts and desires into existence. A power coveted by the Armed Guard; the protectors of Hedona; The Goddess Body; a group of outlaws that practice arts banned by the High Council of Alchemy and of course the Witches whose motives remain unknown.

I haven't yet began working on the metric to actually calculate all of this stuff but I think I'll have more to say about blades in a future DevLog.

The next DevLog will also feature some character descriptions just to get you acquainted with the main cast.

GAMEPLAY AND CODE

So for the coding aspect of the game I mainly focused on navigation. Basically the way the exploration works is that I've put some points in the shape of a box to indicate where the doors are. When the player hover's over that space fairy dust pours out of the wand to highlight that you're hovering over an interactable area. When you click this spot you're transported into a different room.

Different character's might be in different rooms so you'll be able to interact with them in the exploration phase in order to get relevant information.

Another thing I worked on was essentially just reducing the effects I was using in Gdevelop5. Basically when you use too many effects it can slow down the game down and while a visual novel isn't that resource intensive there was some lag in certain areas that I wanted to fix. I'm already using 3 effects to help sell the vintage look:

-Old Film to provide some noise -RGB Split for the slight chromatic aberration and -Blur(Kawase Fast) to make the art look less crisp

Too many effects as it is but totally worth it imo. But you can be the judge of that.

Outside of that I don't think there's much more I can say about the art or the game so I think I'll leave it there.

Thanks for reading all this and I hope you're having a wonderful day.

Ianthe

#visual novel #visual novel development #vn development #game development #retro anime #anime art #indie games #design #Instagram

2 notes · View notes

afraidparade · 2 years

Note

Ohohohoho our little Earth/Fire & Air/Fire couple as animals? And you want our 𝓸𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼?

Just to go over some basics in elements there's Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. I think a lot of people associate the elements with their literal physical forms, but those words in the context of the elements are more of a descriptor of a much larger archetype.

Earth in this context isn't just literal dirt & rocks or the planet earth itself, it's the concept of groundedness, patience, stillness, home, having roots and the growth associated with that (and thereby plants), stability, solidness, stubbornness and standing firm/literally standing your ground, slowness (not negative), taking your time, wealth (not just money. There is a certain richness to life that isn't just money and possessions - if you know what I'm talking about you know, if you don't, you don't. That richness could be a whole other monologue. In Tarot people often call the Pentacles [the suit representing Earth in Tarot] "coins", because they look like coins and coincide with the concept of wealth, but Earth is a lot more than that). I'm sure you've probably heard the term "earth tones" - browns, greens, muted reds and yellows and blues. Tends to be on the warmer side of the color wheel, but not necessarily. Earth isn't just earth. It's a name. Same with the others.

Air as an element isn't just the stuff we breathe in, it's detachment (head in the clouds), freedom, space, insight (like a bird's eye view, seeing the bigger picture), thoughts and intellectualism, communication, not being held down. Whatever else is coming to mind right now, you're probably right. Colors I associate with air are whites, pastels, cool blues.

Fire as an element isn't just the stuff we roast marshmallows on its energy, passion, heat, speed, enthusiasm, spontaneity, stimulation. Colors I associate with this element are the same colors you'd probably associate with a physical fire - reds, oranges, yellows, browns, very warm, vibrant and bright colors.

Luka being the calm stable earthy boy with a fiery passionate interior being quite large (even to humans) and supportive & protective of the little one he holds dear....

And Faust being the passionate, fiery, unstable (in the sense he doesn't quite know what he wants, not good with decision making)....

I'm going to go with a Sun Bear (fire/earth, and have you seen that tongue?), and Starling bird (air/fire, that color palette and people often call them "sky rats" ahahaha).

😬

anon you’re so fucking cool i wish i knew things

i had never heard of a sun bear before so i looked them up like “why did they mention its tongue— OH!!!!!” just a 10/10 creacher. truly you are better at analyzing my characters than i am

#asks

10 notes · View notes

fourseasonsfigs · 1 year

Text

1129 Birthday Jun

Since we've been on a roll with the other figs in this series, let's keep going! Here we have Junjun on his Happy Birthday cake.

The other figs in this series so far have been:

Ice Cream Cutie

Cute Nezha

Huo Yan (I feel like I'm missing a "cute" in this title!)

If you've been following my posts, you already know my extreme weakness for figs on desserts, so this was a must have.

All these figs in this series were before my time, so I've had to buy them all off of Xianyu. The other 3 are commonly sold together, as well as individually, but there's never a lot of these birthday cakes for sale for whatever reason. Maybe it was a smaller run or more expensive, or both. I imagine it would have been a more expensive fig because of all of the detail.

You can see he arrived extremely tightly wedged in the polystyrene, and his crown in particular is stuck right up there. I've had this happen a few times with figs, and always makes me worry that they'll sustain some damage being pushed into the foam like that. So far no breakage though, so either I've been lucky or the resin is tougher than I give it credit for!

I do cut these out rather than than risk pulling them out. I take a box opener and cut down a line from the bottom of the fig to break the box open. That loosens up the area a lot and I can gently ease them out. I had to be particularly careful of this one because those candles are so delicate, and I couldn't have a clumsy finger snap one off.

Here he is! It all arrived perfectly after all - crown, candles, candies and all.

This is the first birthday cake that was done in this style by this maker. It's one piece - he's not removable from the base like the other Happy Birthday Junjun dessert cakes of this style (Cream Mousse and Chocolate Mousse). I don't mind at all that this one is one piece - it's more secure and I don't have to worry about attaching it myself.

The candles also look like they might be removable, but they are not. I'm guessing when they manufactured the fig, they cast the cake with holes and inserted / glued the candles in by hand. I've seen progress videos of factories making figs, it's kind of incredible all the hand work that goes into the assembly. I'll have to ask a fig maker if they'll let me port over a video or two so I can show you all.

Based on the number of candles, this is 6-year old Gong Jun! We'll say each candle counts for 5 years to get to his current age.

I really like these design of all of these cakes she's done. This is one is delightful with the little candies trailing all the way around.

And his little party hat! Super cute. The soft pastels of this whole fig with the pops of yellow make it colorful yet sweet at the same time.

And we're back around! He's just adorable.

This is a nice view of his birthday bouquet and how beautiful it is with the details of his flowers and the pleating on the paper wrapper. We also get a nice angle of his happy laughing eyes and mouth!

And one last shot from the back from the top. This fig is too cute not to get all the angles!

Here's the OG birthday cake with the 30th birthday Cream Mousse cake. You can see the original Junjun figure himself is a bit smaller in order to maintain the overall size of the complete fig itself. I love them both!

I bet you're getting very used to seeing the pic of this box! It really was the same box art for all these figs. I'd be remiss if I didn't have my usual dramatics about the image on the box of the Pokéball Jun fig that I'm still woefully missing (and still completely unable to find the slightest hint of on Xianyu).

Anyway, as you can tell by the list of figs on that box, this is the last one in this series until I am able to track down (and catch!) the elusive Pokéball Jun.

Material: Resin

Fig Count: 254

Scene Count: 18

Rating: We'll be the first ones to wish Gong Jun Happy 31st birthday in advance!

[link back to Master Fig Index for more posts]

#gong jun #happy pre-birthday junjun #and many more #shl cast #shl #word of honor cast #woh cast #figthusiast

4 notes · View notes

casspurrjoybell-22 · 10 months

Text

Master - Chapter 6a

*Warning: Adult Content*

Oddity, a strange or peculiar person or thing.

Oddities were rare in themselves.

I didn't see them often, seeing as I'd been around enough to not be surprised by much and I didn't concern myself with them, because in all honesty, I just didn't care.

Besides, oddities were weird, for example, in the supernatural world, an oddity would be an Ugly Witch or a strong Omega Werewolf.

Those were oddities.

Another oddity was me waking up before Kalem.

Not once since Kalem had settled into a life with me in our castle had the boy not been smiling down at me when I opened my eyes with a blood bag in hand.

He'd always been there at a distance, gazing down at me with his joyous, bright, honeycomb eyes and a smile that warmed the darkest parts of me.

'Morning Master,' he'd always chirp happily.

But not this morning.

This morning I opened my eyes and found an empty bedroom.

A frown instantly took my face as I swung my legs over the side of my bed and looked around.

Perhaps he was hiding, trying to surprise me.

But that didn't make sense, knowing Kalem, he'd probably scare himself trying to scare me.

I stand to my feet, steading myself quickly before I make my way out my room and towards Kalem's.

When all the stupid reasons were cleared from my head, I was combatted with the one thought I wanted to avoid but couldn't.

Perhaps, he'd left.

It made breathing a much harder task than it should be to consider the possibility that Kalem had left.

There wasn't much I could do in a situation like that, I couldn't bring him back against his will if he wanted to leave, he was free and could do whatever he pleased.

Even if that meant he wouldn't be with me, taking my heart with him as he left.

I couldn't bear to think of him leaving so I forced myself to avert to other possible reasons for my boy's absence.

He could be ill, it didn't take more than a simple brush of the wind to make humans sick or he could've been taken.

If it was the last, that would simply mean every person or thing that stood between me and him would lose their lives in the next five hours.

But it'd been none of the above.

As I burst into Kalem's room with anxious eyes and a distressed soul, all I found was a darkened room with a small, curled body hidden beneath the puffy, yellow blankets that covered his large bed.

I could barely make out his tiny frame with all the pastel yellow sheets and pillows, he'd taken a liking to the color so I made sure to use it as much as possible in his room and accent it with white.

I released a steady breath before walking towards him, futile stress and unnecessary worries filtering out of me with every step.

I let myself relax completely when my eyes settle on his disarrayed, black wild hair which was barely sticking out from under the sheets.

I lift the nearby chair to the side of the bed, being sure not to wake him before sitting down into the smaller chair.

Leaning back into the old wood, I fold my arms over my chest and watch my boy sleep.

I knew I shouldn't referred to him as mine.

He wasn't a thing I could just possess and control as I pleased, yet in my mind, he was mine.

Not because I'd indulged in the disgusting trade of slavery and thought of him as a slave for me to do whatever I wished to.

No.

He was mine because I knew I would never let him go, even if he let me go, I would always protect him.

I'd never spend a moment away from him unless needed, which were few in number as he repelled the very idea.

It didn't take much self-awareness to realize Kalem was already my entire world.

Another twenty minutes or so passed before Kalem finally steered awake, his body stretching out at all angles while releasing a small mewl or two beneath the covers.

He'd found himself tangled in his sheets, as a result, causing him to wrestle against them slightly creating a battle he was sadly losing.

His head emerged from beneath the sheets suddenly, his hair falling over his eyes before he released a small huff of exhaustion.

My eyes shamefully found their way to his exposed frame, the sight bringing me up short of breath.

He was shirtless, not surprising as Kalem detested close with a disturbing passion but at this moment, I wasn't complaining.

His chest was small, with two little pink nubs that were begging to be teased a bit, I lick my lips a the sight of them hardening from the exposure to the cold room.

His frame was lean and gorgeous, thankfully seeming more healthy as his ribs were no longer pressed against his skin.

Not a single hair rest on top of his smooth skin that seemed to glow in the darkened room.

The sight of him made my entire body pulse at the prospect of what I could do to him, with him.

A small yelp brought my attention back to Kalem who was now staring at me with now wide, shocked eyes that still looked a little sleepy in a truly delightful manner.

Him only now registering my presence.

I suppose it was creepy that I was just sitting here staring at him... my bad.

"Master, what are you doing in here?" he asks after a moment of silence, his lips turning to form a small frown.

"I woke up and you weren't there. I guess I got too accustom to you being there, I just wanted to make sure you were okay," I explain making him nod before he sat up a bit straighter.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there this morning Master," he says quickly, alarm stiffening his muscles as he stumbles over his own words. "I-I had scary dreams and I couldn't sleep," he reveals honestly making me frown in turn as I draw myself closer to him.

"Nightmares? What about?" I ask studying him with a growing state of worry.

"M-My old h-home," he whispers after some time, his voice light as if he spoke too loudly he'd be snatched away.

His knees meet his chest, arms wrapping himself in an attempt to grasp safety.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I question softly, not wanting him to shut himself up.

He shakes his head quickly, eyes squeezing shut as if reliving the memories with just my words.

I transfer myself to the edge of his bed, sitting close enough to bring him comfort but not to scare him into himself.

"I-I w-woke up in s-sweat so, I-I took off the s-sleeping clothes you got me, s-sorry Master."

‘All your clothes? Stop it Lincoln.’

"It's okay Kalem, you don't have to apologize," I say instead of my vulgar thoughts, watching as he played with his fingers hesitantly. "Why didn't you tell me anything? You could've woken me up, I would've helped you."

His eyes dart up between me and his hands as he nibbles on his bottom lip, tempting me with his innocence as he tries to decide whether to reply with honesty or as he was taught to respond.

"I didn't want to disturb you," he squeaks out. "I-I didn't want to cause trouble."

"Kalem," I call with a sigh causing his eyes to find mine hesitantly.

I move a little closer to him before opening my arms.

In an instant, he was curled in my lap and clinging to me desperately, arms looped around my neck to hold him close.

Thankfully the blankets followed his journey to me and covered his delectables.

"Kalem, you do know that I care about you right?" I question as he pulls himself back to look me in my eyes. "I'm not lying, I care about you, so much that I'd do anything for you. You do know that don't you?" I question once more while palming his cheek.

His little heart was hammering away while his eyes darted between my own, our faces too close, allowing his warm breath to tease my lips but I kept my eyes focused on his.

"Wake me up whenever you want Kalem, especially when you have a nightmare."

"But I don't like disturbing you Master," he replies tightening his grip on my shirt where his fingers could reach.

I ponder it for a moment knowing damn well Kalem would die before he woke up his 'Master' from sleep and disturbed him with his own needs.

His little brainwashed mind would never put himself before me.

"Okay. How about the next time you have a nightmare, you crawl into the bed with me?" I offer, making his body immediately tense as his eyes all but popped in their place. "You don't have to wake me up. Just come to me and I'll be with you so your nightmares can't get you. Would that make you feel better? If I was next to you?"

He contemplated my offer for a while, fingers clenching and unclenching my shirt as he thought.

Frowning for a long time before a smile stretched across his lips and his eyes found mine once more.

"Yes. It would," he said beaming up at me. "Thank you Master."

"No problem love," I reply before biting my tongue... hard.

‘It slipped out, it just fucking fell out. Fuck. Where the fuck did that come from?’

Kalem was looking at me as if I'd grown another head before an aggressive blush lit up his entire face.

I would've liked to admire the cute reaction but I was more concerned with my own actions to truly appreciate it.

I place Kalem down before standing up and separating us with a noticeable space.

"Right. I'm going to get breakfast for both of us," I say taking quick steps to the door. "You clean up."

"Master wait," Kalem calls desperately but the door was already shut and I was dashing away.

His speed was nothing in comparison to mine and before I could breathe, I was hunched over the half-full fridge in the basement.

I downed three bags in a row, a feeble attempt to drown out my pending thoughts.

But sooner rather than later, they made an appearance.

'What the fuck was that?' I scream to myself. 'Love? What's next baby?'

"He's eighteen Lincoln. Eighteen. Meaning off-fucking-limits," I shout at myself, annunciating the command out loud while keeping a listening ear out for Kalem.

The pacing came next, hands drifting upwards to grip my hair angrily before making my way to the kitchen.

'Screaming wasn't helping, maybe cooking would.'

1 note · View note

mouthfulloftoothpasterry · 3 years

Text

The Twins Night Out

Summary: The twins go to their first concert. - 70s!Harry

Warnings: angst- but its nothin’ much!

Y/n and Harry were in a little fight. Harry had bought tickets to a Fleetwood Mac concert for the whole family. He wanted their twins to experience the out of body experience a concert is- but his wife thinks otherwise. Harry swears up and down that she's being unreasonable, saying they are only four and don’t need to go to something like that. “Dove, let me take the twins to go see Fleetwood, they would love it.” Harry pouts, brushing a thumb over her cheek.

Y/n rolls her eyes, walking out of the bedroom. “They are four years old. They do not need to be going to a concert.” Harry runs a hand through his shag haircut, groaning. “They are my children too! I say the twins go.” He huffs, following his wife to the twins bedroom. “Lennon, honey, it’s bath time.” Y/n calls to the four year old, smiling when they stand up from their toys. “Yup, then you’re gonna go to a concert with daddy.” Harry smiles, ruffling the twins' curls.

Y/n snaps her head to her husband, giving him eyes that scare him- he knows he’s in trouble. “Bath time is gonna be in a second, play for a little more.” Y/n pulls her husband to the side, leaving the twins bedroom cracked so she can keep an eye on them. “You had no right to tell them that when I said they couldn’t go!” She whisper-yells.

Harry groans, “You’re buggin’ out over this! It’s just a concert. I even got a ticket for you. I got excited, now I’m all bummed out.” Y/n sighs, giving in, she rests her head against the wall- running a hand over the patterned wallpaper. “Whatever. But I’m not going and they aren’t gonna be out all night.” Harry smiles- still upset that his lover isn’t going but at least he get his way. “Groovy!” He slaps his hands together, “thank you! Love you, sunshine.” He exclaims, pecking his wife before rushing into the twins bedroom.

“Bath time, then we gotta find a sick outfit for you two!” Harry smiles, pulling both of his four year olds up on his hips.

“Kay, show mama your outfits!” Harry chuckles, shuffling his kids into his bedroom he shares with his wife. Honey is dressed in a short sleeve jean jumpsuit with white gogo boots underneath and some large black rim sunglasses with yellow lenses. Lennon is dressed in some blue striped pants with a matching blue button up and a colorful bandana tied around his neck. Harry went all out, some baby green flared with a psychedelic looking button up shirt- his chest out, a white belt, black boots and glitter smeared on his cheeks and collar bones. “Well, don’t you two look slammin’?!” Y/n asks, opening her arms and waiting for her kids to run into them.

She kisses both of their heads, letting them go and turning back to her husband. “I’ll see you later.” She scrunches her nose, blowing a kiss. “Well, peace out sunshine! I’ll catch you later.” Harry winks back at her, catching her kiss and pressing it to his lips.

The twins were buzzing while Harry drove them to the concert in their faded pastel yellow and white VW bus, it was very on trend and Harry couldn't help but get it. The venue wasn't too far away from their home, it was about thirty minutes away and the twins always loved a drive- especially when they could listen to music and jam out. “‘Kay, you two are gonna be good and stay with daddy the whole time, capisce?” Harry asks, peeking up at the mirror to look at the twins. “Capisce!” Lennon yells, making Harry chuckle, shaking his head at his silly little boy. “Capisce, daddy.” Honey says, her voice much quieter than her brothers. “So, you're not gonna talk to strangers, you aren't going to run away, you aren't going to act up.” Harry says, eyeing his son who's giving him a cheeky smile. “You know I'm talking to you, Lenny.” His son giggles, covering his mouth. “I know, daddy!” he rolls his eyes playfully and waves him off.

“Okay, make mama happy and stay close to me.” Harry demands in a gentle tone, holding both of his toddlers hands while they walk through the crowd to get to the pit. Y/n would have most definitely said no if she knew where they were- good thing she didn't ask many questions.

“Daddy, what are we doing?” Honey asks, looking up at her father. Harry laughs, pulling her up on his hip. “We're here to see some people sing, doll.” she tosses a hand out, burrowing her eyebrows. “But daddy, it's time for bed.” Harry can't help but laugh, “But you can stay up a bit longer tonight, I promise.” “I can't see, move!” Lennon says, trying to look through all the tall adults. Harry muffles his laugh, “Hey, its all gonna be groovy once the show starts.” Lennon nods signing and twirling around. The show stars soon enough- Harry is definitely more excited than his kids. He loves Fleetwood Mac so he was buzzing to go to this concert. “Daddy, I can't see.” Honey pouts up at him. Harry nods, “Wanna sit on my shoulder?” Honey smiles, nodding. Harry pulls her up, setting her on his shoulder. She squeals, her hands coming onto his head to rest onto his curls. “Cause when the lovin’ stops and the lights go down, and there's not another livin’ soul around, you woo me until the sun comes up, and you say that you love me.” Harry sings along to the song, softly swaying to the music.

“Having fun, Lenny?” Harry coos, holding his hand while they all dance. “Yup!” Harry laughs, pulling out his small film camera that Y/n had forced him to take. “Okay, smile so we can show mama the photos!” Harry says, setting Lennon down and waiting for him to smile. Lennon smiles and Harry snaps the photo of him, shaking it so it develops. “It looks sick!” Harry smiles, showing his little boy. “Can you get a photo of us?” Harry asks, handing the camera off to his boy. Lennon nods, smiling and looking through the little hole of the camera. “Say cheese!” Harry makes a face that looks like he's growling, Honey smiling all pretty. “Thanks mate!” he ruffles Lennon's hair and takes the camera, slipping it into his back pocket.

“Okay, babies, Mama said we can't be out too late so we gotta head home now.” Harry coos, pulling his sleepy twins up onto his hips and pushing through the forest of people.

The kids yawn and place their head on his shoulder. He walks back to the bus, strapping them into their carseats.

“Yay, we're home.” Harry cheers sarcastically, dropping the sleeping kids onto the green couch. Y/n laugh, standing up and yawning. She wraps her arms around her husband, kissing his cheek. “How was the show?” she asks, her arms still around his neck. “It was amazing, Sunshine. The babies loved it.” he pulls out the photos he got, handing them to her. She shuffled through a couple of photos and smiled. “Awe, they look so happy..” “Yeah, Lennon had such a good time dancing.” Y/n pouts a little upset that she was so stubborn and chose not to go just because she was upset with her husband. Now she's missed out on her little one's very first concert. “I wish I would have gone.” Harry nods, kissing her forehead . “There's always next time.”

Tag list: @hopeyoustaythenight @harrysdimple05 @indieslytherin

@evanjh @harrysddtittys @strawberryystyles

let me know if you want to be on the tag list! please like a reblog!!

215 notes · View notes

peachesofteaches · 3 years

Note

Queen Peaches 🍑 would you bless us with a blurb. Like maybe y/n is studying for uni and it’s taking up a lot of her time so Damon gets all needy and sad but when he shows up she’s having a meltdown bc she’s so stressed and he just babies the fuck out of her and maybe a soft blowjob.

HERE YOU GOO! So cute v fluff. Enjoy

Word count: 2,604 (18+ filth)

Damon stood in the living room of his girlfriend's childhood home, politely dismissing her grandmother to make his way upstairs to her bedroom. The old stairs creak beneath him as he nears her door. It reminds him of when she still lived here before she went to college. He was always intrigued with her, coming to check on her in the middle of the night or press his ear against the wood to listen to her, Caroline, Bonnie, and Elena during a sleepover.

With the end of term approaching, Y/N chose to come home to study. Damon remembers her mentioning how she wanted to spend more time with her grandmother so he didn’t bother trying to coax her into staying at his place. Usually, she comes over for sleepovers almost nightly, but recently she’s been studying in her room, isolating herself from her friends and her boyfriend.

It’s not by choice- he knows. Yet, this is how she handles stress, as unhealthy as it is. He misses her though. Misses the sound of her laugh and her smell surrounding him. The pitter-patter of her feet in the boarding house. Finding locks of her hair everywhere. She hasn’t texted him back all day, or anybody for that matter, and after a long talk with Bonnie about how Y/N stresses herself to the point where she gets sick, he decided to intervene before things got bad.

He hasn’t been up to her old bedroom in years but when he opens her door, it all comes rushing back in an instant. The walls of her room are still painted a faint yellow and fairy lights are strung up across the wall, casting a warm glow across the room. Posters decorated her walls along with an assortment of framed photographs that had gathered dust over the years. Her bedspread was still white, holding a pile of pastel stuffed animals that all stared at him as he walked in the room. His eyes fell on his girlfriend who sat at the white desk facing the window, headphones over her ears, aggressively typing on her computer.

Cold coffee mugs cluttered up the corners of her desk along with assorted pens and pencils and could hear the quiet thrumming of Deftones playing through her headphones. Not wanting to startle her, he picked up a build-a-bear off her bed and threw it against the legs of her chair. Her shoulders tensed before she turned around with a furrowed brow, softening when she saw Damon standing by her window.

She pulled the headphones off her ears, laying them against the keyboard of her laptop. “What did Peach ever do to you?” She said, leaning over to pick up the pink plush bear and hold it against her chest.

Damon smirked and walked over to her, bending down on his knees to kiss her deeply, fingers tangling in her hair. He could feel her body relaxing into the kiss and her hold on the bear loosened until it laid in her lap, staring at Damon with beady, plastic, eyes.

When they pulled apart Y/N’s hand went to her lips, feeling the tingling sensation that arose. “Hey.” She greeted, her cheeks turning a pink tint that blended in with the glow of the fairy lights across her walls.

“Hey.” He responded, bringing his hands to rest on her knees where he squeezed assuringly. “How’s the studying going?” He peered over to the computer, finding a written essay on a google doc. The side of the document was heavy with comments and edits made at different points during the day.

She sighs, glancing at her laptop. “I finished my research paper. I’m just trying to edit it now.”

“You finished everything else though?”

She nods quietly, blinking at the words on the screen. He draws her eyes back to him by swiveling her desk chair back and forth. “What's wrong, cutie?” He juts out his lower lip when he finds tears glistening behind her eyes.

She shakily raises a hand and swipes at her eyes before the tears fall. “I’m just mad. At myself. Nothing sounds good and I used the word ‘and’ too much. It sounds stupid.”

“How long have you been working on this?”

“Seven hours.” His mouth falls open at her answer. He doesn't know why he’s surprised. Her eyes are squinting and she’s worked a wrinkle between her eyebrows from staring at the computer so intensely. He wishes she would wear her glasses while she was working, but she’s always losing them and never wants to wear them. Her lip quivers as she snaps shut the lid of the laptop. “It’s awful.”

Tears fall from her eyes, marking up her doll-like cheeks in wet trails.

“Awh, baby.” He draws her in for a hug, wrapping his arms around her torso when her head falls to his shoulder. Her shoulders quiver with the oncoming sniffles and tears that prick at the cotton of his shirt. “Shh, shh. You’re under a lot of pressure right now and you’re probably really tired. Hmm?”

She doesn't answer, just cries into his shoulder letting the weight of the stress she’s holding melt onto her boyfriend. He holds her steadily, slightly rocking them side to side as she works to calm herself down.

“Listen,” he said, taking her face into his hands. “Let’s get you cleaned up and take a little nap. I’ll wake you up in an hour so you can get back to work, ok?”

“No-” She protests before Damon holds up a finger, hushing her retort.

“Ah-Ah. How about tomorrow we can go bother old Stefan and get him to read your paper before you turn it in? He’s always been better at that kind of stuff than I am. Then after we can go see a movie, or do whatever you want.”

It takes her a minute before she nods with her cheeks squished between his palms, letting her body fall forward when he brings her close for a kiss. “C’mon, now,” Damon says, gently pulling her to her feet by her elbow and wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her as they shuffle into the bathroom.

Under the harsh white light of her bathroom, Damon can see the purple shade underneath her normally bright eyes. Her face looks so dejected and exhausted that it makes his chest twinge with an ache to hold her. They share soft words as Damon hands her a damp washcloth to wipe her tear-stained cheeks with. He combs through her hair with a brush, sighing at the silkiness of her locks. Y/N’s eyes melt closed as he brushes, the soft bristles against her scalp soothing her.

Damon’s got her into a pair of panties and one of his old shirts, which has been hiding in one of her drawers for the past two years. He knows she finds comfort in wearing his clothing, similar to how he finds comfort in smelling hers.

He tugs the hem of the shirt down to her thighs, smiling slightly when she leans into him for support. He strokes her back reassuringly, pecking the fleshy part of her cheek. “Have you eaten anything today?”

She shakes her head against his chest and Damon frowns because if she hasn’t eaten anything today he doubts she’s eaten the other days it’s been like this. “I can’t eat right now… too anxious.” She says, her voice muffled in his chest.

Damon sighs, peeling back the top corner of her white comforter and situating her beneath it. “Then I’ll make you something when you wake up. Deal?”

“Mmm.” She mumbles, stretching out her arms to Damon. “Cuddle with me?”

After kicking off his boots, Damon slips into the bed beside her, instantly bringing her body to his chest. She nestles her nose against the warmth of his throat, her breath soft as she exhales against the skin. They sit in silence for a while, soaking up the warmth of one another. With all the stress of dead week, Y/N has hardly had time to share with Damon. It makes her feel like a terrible girlfriend.

She’s been shut in her room, pouring over term papers and projects, giving them her all, and exhausting herself to the bone. She just wants to do well. Wants to be proud of herself. The thought of school has her tensing again and her ever-so-aware boyfriend notices, beginning to massage between her shoulder blades.

“Just relax, baby. I got you.” He assures her, dropping sweet kisses onto her hairline. His body feels so warm and sturdy beneath her that it spreads an all-too-familiar feeling throughout her body. His hands are rubbing gentle patterns into her skin as arousal grows in her abdomen. She shuffles a bit on his chest before she lifts her head, peering at him through the layers of hair in front of her face.

“You should try to sleep.” Damon’s voice is gravely, she can hear sleepiness in it. She sits up so her legs straddle his hips.

“I just want- I want to-” Tears prick at the corners of her eyelids and need bubbles in her chest so harshly she feels like she might go into a fit. “I want to suck you off.” The words slip from her quickly before she can catch him. Usually, Damon’s having to coax her wants out of her with teasing measures except that now she’s too tired to care and she just needs something to hold onto.

Damon rests his hands on her thighs, rubbing his thumb at the skin. Her eyes are beady, glistening in the fairy lights of her bedroom. “Baby, let's get some rest, hmm?” He tries to brush off the subject because he’s worried this is tired Y/N talking and he doesn't want to start anything if she’s second-guessing herself.

“No!” She whines, jutting out her bottom lip. “I don’t want to rest right now, I can’t. I need you.”

His mouth forms a slight ‘o’ o shape when he realizes how she needs him. Soft, coaxing, supportive. He drums at the top of her thigh as a way of giving her permission to situate herself between his legs. Her head comes to rest on his hip bone where her warm breath sends goosebumps along the skin. Damon’s sensitive to her touch right now. They haven’t had sex in a couple of days and it has his mind spinning with filth. As much as he tries to hide how much he’s aroused- this is her show after all- he can’t help the semi that stretches the crotch of his jeans.

With a small hand, Y/N presses her palm against the tent of his pants, squeezing over the bulge and biting down on her bottom lip when Damon cranes his neck against her pillow, his mouth falling open in pleasure. She wants to make him feel good because he does so much for her. He’s patient and understanding. He doesn't see her crying fits over school as silly or naive.

With dainty fingers, Y/N pops open the button on Damon’s jeans earning a soft, relieved, sigh from him. She pushes away the rest of his clothing before taking his dick into her hands, sliding him into her mouth. She sucks and licks at the pinkish tint of his member before relaxing her jaw and filling her mouth.

Damon groans loud, reaching up a hand to brush away the fallen strands of hair that gather in front of her pretty eyes. He wants to watch her face while she sucks him off and his arousal grows when he sees her eyes closed and her face relaxed as she bobs her head. Her head comes up to lick repeatedly at his slit. His hips jolt with her movements, bucking up into the velvety insides of her mouth when she opens up for him again.

“Fuck, baby. You’re so good at that.” He murmurs, composing himself to finger-comb her hair behind her shoulders. One of her hands wraps around the base of his cock, squeezing with two fingers. She gazes up at him through thick eyelashes, taking in his pleasured expression. It urges her on further and she goes so deep that the tip of her nose brushes against the skin above his groin.

He has one hand holding onto her thighs while the other strokes her cheek softly with a thumb. “So good, baby doll. Right there.” He praises her with a soft voice that makes her feel taken care of and small. Her body is warm with the affection that swirls inside of her. She’s already starting to notice how her brain is calming down. She can only focus on Damon and it makes her feel a lot better. She knows she’s doing a good job with this because he’s told her before and his expression is pure bliss.

“You’re so perfect, you know?” He continues stroking her cheek so gently the act alone makes her want to cry. How he can be so gentle while she’s giving him her best head, she doesn't know, but she’s not complaining one bit. The reassurances are all part of the fun. “My perfect girl. I love you so much.”

She moans around him, feeling the wetness of precum slipping down her throat. He gives her little warning about his incoming orgasm, panting at her to get off before he comes but she stays where she is, continuing her pulse until he’s coming hard into her mouth. Spurts hit the back of her throat, coating her mouth in the stickiness that tastes sweet yet bitter at the same time. She swallows the cum gratefully before she pops off, a string of spit stretching from his tip to her mouth.

She smiles as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Holy shit, babe.” She crawls up beside the bed, situating herself on her side in the crook between his arm and his torso. “You don’t want a turn?” He asks, gazing at her tender expression. She shakes her head, blinking sleepily.

“No, I just want snuggles.”

He finds her lips and takes them to his, kissing her passionately. He can still taste himself on her lips, they’re sticky and he wants to coax her into the bathroom to brush her teeth but her eyes are growing heavier by the second and soon, she’s asleep.

~*~*~

He’s done some tidying up around the room, took down the coffee mugs that crowded the surfaces in her room once he made sure her grandmother was sleeping in her bedroom. He unplugged the fairy lights and switched on her bunny nightlight, tucking Peach beneath her arm then situated himself in bed beside her, stroking her back. Then, as promised, he wakes her up an hour later. Something tells him she won’t be waking up to edit her paper but he does it anyway to avoid her being upset with him later.

“Hey, baby girl.” He coos, playing with her hair until her eyes peel open slightly. The bunny night light casts a pink glow across her face that she turns away from, burying her face back into his chest. “It’s been an hour, do you want to get up?”

“No.” She pouts, sleepily pushing his shirt off his body. “Can you spend the night?”

He takes off his shirt and pushes off his jeans. He knows she likes the feeling of his skin against hers. It’s warm and smells like Damon. He situates himself on his back, pulling her close once more. “Sure.” He agrees, his whispers landing against her cheek.

#yeah #this was fun #obsessed with teen bedrooms in #film #so I had to write about one #damon salvatore #tvd damon #tvd #the vampire diaries #tvd fanfiction #damon x reader #damon x y/n #damon salvatore smut #damon salvatore x reader #tvd smut

285 notes · View notes

seokahwrites · 3 years

Text

NUISANCE | chapter 2 (or, i hate him so much my heart skipped a beat)

5.6k

back to nuisance masterlist

pairing.

| lawyer! jeon jungkook x lawyer! reader

summary.

| all you wished for was a relaxing two weeks in a big ass boat eating some big ass shrimps, away from the real world. but instead you’re stuck with your arch rival with no means of escape — and goddamit why does the bastard smell so good.

tags.

| 2 BROOKLYN 99 REFERENCES TELL ME IF U CATCH THEM; paragraphs dedicated to jungkooks back muscles; im so sorry like a few parts were really thirsty; but there’s a very sweet paragraph dedicated to jungkook’s smile; reader and jungkook bonding???; jealous reader; smug jungkook; love sounds like hate; a lot of plot convenience if you haven’t noticed

a/n.

| hello everyone! first off THANK U FOR THE MASSIVE SUPPORT ILY. i feel like this could’ve been better but i’m not sure how. but no they’re not moving too fast bc… well 😃😃 also i’m planning on writing more serious pieces after this series even though i’ve barely started :P anyways, i hope u all have an amazing day lots of love

“What kind of neanderthal doesn’t go outside for two days?

Jungkook asks through the open bathroom door as he’s sitting on his couch, your mouth still too foamy and minty to give him a quick-witted answer.

You spit into the sink and glare at him through the mirror, “I was being productive and I cooked horrible food all day,” you splash water on your face and pause at the door frame on your way out, “Unlike some people that spend their hours hunting for their next prey.”

You don’t stick around to watch the way he rolls his eyes, walking over to your bed to grab the orange wrap skirt and white top for today’s outfit. But you couldn’t really put it on since someone was still in the room.

There isn’t an inkling of a thought in Jungkook’s doe eyes, the time it was taking for him to get a hint was more than enough for you to pass your eyes over his black tank top, stinky green shorts and dark sandals. How did he look better than you in a tank top? Fuck him. Wait, no he doesn’t. Still, fuck Jungkook.

Once your eyes are back on him, the fiend has a shit-eating grin on his face as if he’d just caught you red-handed in the middle of a dirty sin — you were just judging him.

You raise your eyebrows in an attempt to maintain your composure, “Well?” And wave the clothes in your hands to help him understand the situation.

No sound comes from the ‘Oh’ of his lips, his small brain finally coming to terms with reality. But just before he heads out the door, “We’re having lunch at the deck,” and he doesn’t wait for an answer, slamming the door behind him.

Who the hell did he think he was?

Now, you didn't have to go along with Jungkook’s plan — hell, it was probably the last thing you wanted. However, does going to the rooftop deck to have a nice lunch and a-little-too-early drinks really sound like a bad idea?

And the answer to that question is what led you to pulling your clothes over your head and reassuring nobody but yourself that, “I’m only going because of the fucking food,” cursing Jungkook here and there too, of course.

Just before heading off, you grab the cruise’s complementary sun hat, a long string of pastel beads for your neck and your favorite pair of sunglasses — not that you were going to use them for more than keeping your hair away from your face anyways.

Breathe in, Y/N.

You’re out the door, “I’m ready.”

Your exposed skin stings as you feel Jungkook’s eyes go from your leg exposed from the slit of your skirt, to your fluttering stomach and slowly — as if he didn’t want to miss a single detail — up, up, up, until his gaze meets yours. And that look is back, the one he’s only ever used whenever he couldn’t hide what he truly felt for you: aversion.

Yet, instead of the slander you were expecting, Jungkook does nothing but shake away whatever was on his mind and lock the door. Beep, And he goes the entire way to the elevator without uttering a single word.

Still, even if the silence was deafening you don't make much of a fuss, only observing Jungkook’s silent figure as he stared ahead and around anywhere he wouldn't have to meet your eyes.

He was a pain in the ass even when he wasn't speaking.

Ding.

You’re the first to exit, part because you were excited to get a breath of fresh ocean air and part because you couldn’t stand whatever the hell was happening in the elevator.

There were half naked people everywhere, kids running around and chasing after each other through the zig zag of chairs and tables. From the wooden floor to the samples of blue and yellow on the umbrellas, cups and slides, the view was the very core of vacation.

Jungkook suddenly stands before your wide eyes and takes you by the wrist, taking the lead as he shoves his way to the stairs that lead to the highly-expected rooftop restaurant, the place safely guarded on the opposite side of all the commotion.

As your sandals flip-flopped against the wooden stairs, you start to see a flood of blue and beige chaise lounges, white coffee tables centered in the space of each one and the alabaster bar surrounded by people in all sorts of summer attire. Maybe Jungkook was onto something.

Speaking of, he grabs your shoulders — ruining the view as always — and pushes you down the first empty couch he finds. “Stay here, I’ll get us some food.”

You don't fight him on it, deciding to just let the sea breeze caress your face, closing your eyes and taking it all in. Things were nice.

That is until you look at the entrance and see Jungkook talking to the same raven-haired girl from yesterday. The sight bothers you and you can’t quite put your finger on as to why, perhaps it was because he could’ve at least had the fucking decency to not hit on people while he was ordering your food. God. Only he could put a stain to an otherwise perfect morning.

And you could’ve looked away, but just as a bee is attracted to pollen or a driver is allured with the sight of a car crash, you simply couldn’t — not that you were attracted or allured to Jungkook in any way, though.

The woman’s cotton cover up flowed with her hand as she playfully hit Jungkook on the arm. You envy her, you’d never touched an implant before. Jungkook crosses his arms at this movement, probably thinking his biceps were going to pop out even more. Your body threatens to convulse in second hand embarrassment.

But the lovebirds are interrupted when the cashier calls out for Jungkook, his order ready and trayed up. You look away and could only hope it was just in time for none of them to notice that you were ogling, but Jungkook’s mystery girl catches your stare and her angelic smile dissipates in front of your eyes. Chills, literal chills.

You feign surprise when Jungkook sits beside you, placing the tray of colorful drinks and drool-worthy pasta on the table with a clang.

“I hope the mimosas are a good enough treat for your highness,” he bows his head.

You can’t repress your squeal nor your smile as the glass meets your lips and you have a real summer drink for the first time in forever, the girl’s glare fading with every sip you take. Jungkook simply watches, amused when you down half of the drink in one go.

You’re content, only with a simple worry in your mind. “What time is it?”

Luckily Jungkook had brought a watch on his wrist, your phones long forgotten on the nightstand, “One something,” he grabbed both plates, handing over yours, “Why? Gotta run away from me again?”

You try to scoop as much chicken, sauce and pasta as you can twirl on your fork, practically salivating once you're munching down the food. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

Jungkook crosses a leg over the other as he eats the chicken from his own plate, “What are you up to today?”

Huh. You asked yourself the same thing. “I actually have no idea,” you admit, “I just saw the words massage and wine and thought ‘I have to go’.”

“Of course,” and he doesn’t sound the least bit surprised — or judgemental, at that. “You did the same exact thing at the last firm getaway.”

Your hand flies to your mouth, “Oh, God. Why would you remind me,” Jungkook is slapping his knee at a miserable attempt of stifling his laughter, “Nothing will ever compare to the misery of being surrounded by a bunch of sobbing tipsy widows.”

His laugh only booms alive and you try to convince yourself that it scratches your ears, but it doesn’t and you find yourself giggling as well. What the hell was in that mimosa?

“God, youre such a fucking idiot.”

“Lower your voice, boozer,” you slap his thigh — hurting you much more than him — and catch a few glares in your direction.

Jungkook drinks his entire glass, “Eh, screw them,” not sparing a second thought to the strangers, “Are you heading to the fifth floor again?”

The alfredo pasta in your plate has been reduced to nothing, “Yeah, why?”

“I’m heading that way too.”

You snort — you know, like a wild boar. “Gonna meet up with yesterday’s catch?”

He has a conceited smile on his face and you fear the next words to come out his mouth, “Maybe,” he places his plate on his lap and leans closer to you, his breath tickling your ear, “Jealous much?”

Scoff.

You push him away, drinking the rest of your orange juice. Scoff (again). You’ve never met someone so egotistical. How dare he?

“Don’t act like being seduced by an incubus like you is such a big deal,” you hope to poison him with your words but he only bites down a sweet smile, “And it’s not like she’s seen anything that I haven’t in the past two nights.”

Goddammit, Y/N. Where the fuck did that come from?

Jungkook drapes an arm over the couch, “Someone’s been enjoying the view.”

You try your best to scowl at the demon, but when your eyes accidentally tarry on Jungkook’s collarbones and arms — why is it always the fucking arms? — for a few moments too long, red paints your cheeks instead and you simply fiddle with your empty glass.

Jungkook’s victory weighs heavy on the lifted corners of his lips as you wait for him to finish the rest of his food — he ate like a five year old.

“This is where I leave you, I guess.”

The walk to the fifth floor was a quick one, you and Jungkook standing in front of the familiar entrance, that same chalkboard from yesterday scribbled with roses this time.

A woman is the one welcoming you at the door today, the same list and my-boss-forced-me-to smile on her face, just like yesterday’s guy.

“Ms. L/N,” she calls out as you and Jungkook come closer, “You must be the last couple to join us today!”

She manages to sneak her way behind you, pushing both of you into the dim room before her words could even reach your eardrums. Did she say couple?

Jungkook attempts to correct her, “I’m just here to drop her off—,” to no avail.

The woman has a menacing smile and look to her eyes that shuts the both of you right up, “The first activity was just about to start,” she rushes to the exit and shuts the door, but not before a friendly, “Have fun!”

Was this cruise actually full of psychos?

You and Jungkook are frozen in place, only noticing the handful of couples sitting on the floor, the petals spread across the room and romantic candles sticking out the walls, a moment too late.

“Welcome! Welcome!” An elderly woman approaches you, her short hair wrapped in a pink bandana, the boho print matching the rest of her clothes and chunky jewelry, “I’m Hattie, your instructor. Why don’t you two sit down so we can start?”

Though you're both in shock, none of you attempt to make an escape, taking quick but hesitant steps to the last empty space in the back. A flustered Jungkook is the first to talk once you’re sat down, “What the fuck, Y/N?”

Hattie seemed to have been saying something when Jungkook whispered a tad too loud, both of you putting on a smile when she looked. “I have no idea what’s happening either,” you grit through your teeth,

Once she looks away, you and Jungkook take a breather.

“I legit didn't see anything about onboard couple’s therapy, I was really tired,” you rub between your brows, “You can go, Jungkook,” your head gestures to the sealed exit, “I can take the embarrassment. Plus, that’s kind of the whole point.

“But that guard lady locked us in here,” his fading hope is visible in the way he buries his head in his hands, seemingly forgetting who he was with when he asks, “Am I really stuck here with Y/N?”

Are you fucking kidding me. You can’t believe you were empathetic with the monster for even a second. “Don’t be over dramatic, it’s only until six.”

His shock takes over his hands and the volume of his voice when he hits his legs, “WE’RE GOING TO BE HERE FOR FOUR HOURS?”

The murmurs and whatever that instructor was saying, are quickly silenced.

“We’re sorry,” you apologise on his behalf as he struggles with reality, “Please, continue.”

She coughs and puts back that old lady smile of hers, clasping her hands together, “As I was saying, we have three tasks ahead of us,” she puts up a finger for each one she lists, “A loving touch, a loving conversation and a loving drink.”

Her voice is drowned out by your dread, your eyes glancing at the couples holding hands and touching, whispering what were surely forbidden secrets into each other’s ears, the candle wax melting and falling in a picturesque way and how the music was crispy to the ears. It was all so… romantic.

And then there were you two idiots that stuck out amidst the crowd, both awkward yet number one is redder than the roses and number two was sweating like a hog. I’ll let you decide which is which.

Hattie’s words are what bring you back to the present, “For us to loosen up, we will begin with the loving touch session,” please say massage, “Each couple should head up to their respective massage rooms.”

At last, the sun is found in the storm.

You follow with an excited sway when Hattie finally comes to bring you to your room. She closes the door behind her with an, “Enjoy!”

A masseur is waiting on the opposite side of the massage bed with welcome arms, “Good afternoon, Mr. and Ms. L/N.”

Jungkook raises his hand, “I’m actually Jeon, she’s the only—.”

“My mistake, Mr. and Ms. Jeon,” Goddamit, Jungkook can’t you say anything helpful for once? “Which one of you will be massaged first?”

You practically leap to grab the robe in his hand before Jungkook could steal the chance, pointing to the jade door, “Is this the changing room?.”

The man nods, a little taken aback from your excitement.

You're out of your clothes and in the backwards robe in the blink of an eye, laid down on the bed in less than a minute, your head now resting on the top of your crossed arms.

“So, Mr. Jeon,” you feel a cold oil drizzle over your back, experienced hands spreading it across your back, “You’ll be placing your hands—,” wait, where did they go, “— right here.”

And just like that Jeon Jungkook’s hands were on your bare back, the concept of a loving touch finally flickering in your mind. His hands were a little more rough and shakier than you would’ve imagined.

Why was that going through your mind?

You should’ve been wishing death on him, yourself and everybody else in the boat, shouldn’t you?

“A loving touch is all about, not only a physical connection but really feeling your partner’s body, go ahead.”

Jungkook, being the pet he was, followed his orders and he did it a little too well, he slowly moved his hands from the knots on your shoulders to the very low of your back and you’d be lying to yourself if you said it felt horrible.

“It’s connecting on a whole new physical level with the other,” Jungkook’s hands travel to the dimples of your spine and linger for a moment too long, but they quickly come back up and focus on the crevices of your neck instead, each movement seemingly aiming for all of your stiff muscles.

Not too bad at all.

The masseur’s philosophical rant about touch and love is completely ignored, your mind hyper focused on every inch of skin Jungkook set his fingers on, his hands sailing further down the sides of your body, the extra attention he pays to your waist not unnoticed.

“Fuck.”

Indeed.

Oh, God. What did you just say?

No, no, no.

Perhaps it was just low enough for nobody to hear it—

“I guess that means you should switch now,” the masseur chuckles with a cringed tone.

It was not.

You prop yourself up and look at Jungkook who you could only hope wasn’t laughing at you, your eyes glassy and pleading for something unclear.

And the bastard was snickering, looking in no direction in particular with a blush to his cheeks and a mocking, lip-biting chuckle on his face.

Once you’re up and standing, it quickly dawns on you that it’s Jungkook's turn. Meaning you had to touch Jungkook and massage Jungkook and touch Jungkook.

The world did hate you.

Jungkook realises he was taking too long and mutters a quick, “Uh,” before pulling his top over his head and you shut your eyes — weren’t you Ms. Jeon, though?

The masseur has to call out your name for you to open them back up again, Jungkook laid on the bed with his head on top of his arms.

“I suppose you know what to do, Miss,” the man smiles.

“Yeah, Y/N,” he exhaled and you can hear his smug, “You know what to do.”

The square footage of Jungkook’s back intimidated you the tiniest bit now that it was splayed out before you, you must admit. Still, you place gentle hands on his back and you’ve confirmed once and for all that those bumps were indeed not from a disease but muscles. Rock hard muscles.

You don’t even remember you had to repay him the favor of embarrassing you — because yes, it was his fault — as you get lost in every dip and fold of his skin, your fingers moving on pure intuition.

The curve of his back, the ridges of his shoulders and the little jolts on the surface of his skin, you could feel all of it.

A hand to your wrist jolts you awake, Jungkook stirring with a glaze to his eyes as you both look up at the masseur, “It’s time for your next activity, Miss.”

Oh, God. What just happened?

You cough and don’t bother to excuse yourself as you leave the room, Jungkook grabbing your forgotten clothes and putting on his robe as he follows behind you.

You try to shake away the burning that creeps it’s way to your fingertips and cheeks as you sit back down on the floor. But it doesn’t work, your sweaty palms joining the party instead. Great. Just great.

Hattie’s voice saves the day, “I hope we’re all relaxed and ready to converse with our partners,” not at all, “If you could all just face each other, cross your legs and hold hands. This intimacy is important when facing important feelings and questions with your partner.”

As if Jungkook slathering oil on you like you were a nice roast chicken wasn't enough, now you had to hold hands with him. Is death still an option?

You’re facing each other, Jungkook’s palms up, “Shall we?”

Uneasiness settles in your stomach, a feeling you’ve never felt with Jungkook before. Sure, you’ve felt judged or uncomfortable but never truly uneasy. Maybe it was just your body reacting to the physical trauma you had to endure.

You nod.

“You know,” Jungkook seems to still be waking up, “You’re not too bad with your hands,” and he laughs.

But it’s a welcome sound that unbundles your nerves in the most peculiar way, your own smile coming back. “You’re not shabby either.”

“I could tell—.”

“I suppose you honeymooners didn’t hear my explanation,” None of you bother to correct her anymore as she places a deck of cards between you, “But all you need to do is pick a card in turn and answer the question. Don’t forget to look into each other’s eyes,” she winks and stands up, making her way to the front of the crowd.

“I guess this is when we start asking each other the questions,” the cringe in your tone is all that rasps your ears as you hold hands… with Jungkook.

“Go ahead,” his head points to the pile of cards in front of you but his eyes only look at Hattie and the way she seemed to ignore every other couple in the room except the both of you.

You breathe in as deep as you can, your hand grabbing the first question, your uncontrollable blush heating up tenfold when you realise this was probably even more intimate than the event-that-shall-not-be-named that occurred in the massage room.

Your mouth stumbles before properly saying, “How long have you been together?”

But Jungkook doesn’t seem as embarrassed as you, the same tint painted on his cheeks but he manages to laugh all the same, your chuckles joining his.

“I’d say about two years?”

Sly bastard. “I’d say two years too.”

He’s the next to grab a card, placing both of your hands on his left one before reaching.

“This is a great one,” he snorts, putting on a serious face when he replaces the card with your hand, “Are there any issues you’d like to bring up?”

You throw your head back just like the exorcist girl, and cackle— were you okay?. “Well, where should I start?”

This was actually kind of fun.

“Okay, but let’s be real for a moment,” he lightly squeezes your hands, “What is your issue with me?”

Or, maybe not.

“Well,” you curse at the old woman for putting you this close, your eyes left with close to no space to avoid Jungkook’s, “There’s just this way you look at me.”

Your gaze is back on the confused boy, the furrow between his brows strong enough to be considered a wifi connection. “What are you talking about?”

“Like—,” you try to come up with some way to explain, “—The first time we met, right? It’s like, you just go silent for a few seconds and literally look through my soul. It makes me feel like I murdered your entire family.”

Jungkook’s eyes grew wide with every word you spouted, the flush on his cheeks practically steaming from his skin.

Did he seriously not know? Oh, well.

“I’m just gonna go ahead and grab the next one,” you say to the top of Jungkook’s head since his face was pointed to his lap.

“Oh, God,” you squeeze Jungkook’s hands with a little more force than necessary, but at least it makes him look up, “You ready?”

Nod.

“What do you love most about your partner?”

Now that was a real couples’ therapy question. Great job, Hattie.

“I think you should answer this one,” you seem to state the obvious, “Since I was the only person to answer the last question.”

Jungkook’s shoulders fall from their perfect posture, “Fine.”

His eyes have that same glint you mentioned before as he scans you up and down. Was that the fifth time today? New record, guys.

“I guess,” he purses his lips with a slight smile, “She always knows how to make a moment memorable. Oh?

Your palms were sweating once again and you wouldn’t have taken note of it if you weren’t holding Jungkook’s goddamn hands at the moment. Why you of all people?

“Coming of a little strong, partner,” the nervousness in your giggly tone ever the obvious thing.

A small smile, “What about you?”

Oh, right. You needed to answer.

It wasn’t like you were an actual couple, “Uh—,” but why is the air between you so thick?

You struggle to find an answer and decide to go with the first thing that pops in your mind,“Well,” Shut up, Y/N, “He always manages to sneak his way in my thoughts.”

Why didn’t you shut up?

However, at this Jungkook smiles, but it isn’t the taut one you’ve seen hundreds of times before, no. Jungkook’s entire face scrunches up and the moons under his eyes seem to have constellations that creased outwards; the way his nose rumpled, his cheeks puffed up and his front teeth steamed the spotlight. Jungkook wasn’t smiling, the boy in front of you was beaming.

And he was beaming at you.

“Next one?” He asks, his face still shining.

You can’t even move at the sight.

Shuffle. “What is your favorite memory with your partner?” He puts it down, “I have like three answers for this one.”

The lightness is back in an instant and you keep that picture of Jungkook on the back of your mind, “You do?”

“Yup,” he pops the P, “First, at the last Christmas party, I go to take a piss at the men’s bathroom, as one does.”

“Please, don’t say it,” you groan and you can’t even hide your face because Hattie would probably slap your hands into Jungkook‘s.

“But, wait,” he feigns shock, “I hear someone gagging in a stall, more specifically a woman. And who else could it have been but the Y/N L/N.”

The almost forgotten memory of you retching your heart out in a smelly toilet and a suited Jungkook carrying you back to Seokjin comes back, and though it’s fuzzy and the mere thought of it is dreadful, Jungkook’s laugh is contagious, even to you now.

“Ah, I never thanked you for that.”

“You don’t need to—.”

“I didn’t finish,” you look at him disillusioned, “And I shouldn’t, because Mother Jin rubbed it in my face the rest of the night about how I was the boss and he was the lousy, underpaid assistant.”

“Classic Jin,” he chuckled. “Okay, second of all, when you threw a coke at my face two seconds after meeting me.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny, Jungkook,” your voice is dry, “But to my defense—.”

“I looked at you weird, totally a justifiable course of action,” he raises his brow, “What about you?”

“What about me?,” Your confusion is cleared up when you’re reminded that you were simply playing a silly card game, “I would have to say… Watching your boss throw a drink at your face after you asked her to make you a partner in the firm.”

Jungkook seems to have buried the memory, “What is it with you people throwing liquids at me?”

You put a thoughtful hand to your chin, “You just have a very drink throwable face.”

He’s quick to snatch your hand back into his and it doesn’t even ring in your mind, “Another one.”

Groan. “Fine, uhm—,” you purse your lips, “Honestly? Maybe, right after that when you were on the sidewalk crying and piss-drunk and you just kind of talked to me.”

Jungkook’s surprised expression has a genuinity to it, “Oh, no. What did I say?”

You shake your head as if to say ‘Nothing’, “You were just going on about how hard you’ve been working and you couldn’t even go out with your friends and you didn’t look at me in the eye even once,” you’re staring into the empty space, “You just said ‘this was a nice dream but I have to wake up now’ and blacked out.”

Your giggle is akin to a little schoolgirl’s and you look backat Jungkook, the night sky in his smile back once again. Hm. Cu—

Hattie claps and the noise bounces you back from your trance. You whip your hands out of Jungkook's hold, afraid they were going to end up drenched from your heart palpitations — Seriously, why was it so hot in the middle of the ocean?

You avoid Jungkook’s searching eyes to the best of your abilities. This could only be a fever.

“We seem to have reached the end of our loving session,” the biggest smile on her face, she can’t wait to get rid of us, “Each couple’s loving drink is awaiting at the exit. The robes are complementary, please do not forget your possessions and stay in love!” Thank God.

You’re on your feet in no time, practically jogging to the exit when Hattie suddenly grabs hold of you, making Jungkook stop in his tracks.

“You two kept on interrupting my class,” she narrowed her eyes but there’s a nicety to her, “But I let it slide, it’s not like I haven’t dealt with worse. Plus, you two have something special that most of the other couples in this room didn’t have.”

A woman scoffs at Hattie’s words when she passes by with her own wife.

Your lack of response is filled with Jungkook’s curious words, “And what is that?”

She leans in a little closer, “Shine,” she whispers this time, “A shine to your eyes and a shine to the way you dance around each other, it’s envying.”

The shine she was referring to was surely the dislike you had for each other. Surely.

You were so sure that you wouldn't stick around for another crazy word of hers and you go back to your almost-running pace to the elevator, not looking back to check if Jungkook had followed behind you.

Why were you so embarassed?

You reach your room in no time and hide yourself beneath the sheets. For a few moments you don’t move, as if you were waiting for something, or someone, to come knocking at the door; and when no one does, your chest weighs a little heavier as if you were disappointed.

“Are you telling me that Jungkook made you moan?” Jin’s voice shrill through the speakerphone, your knees to your chest as you sat at the balcony.

“That’s besides the point, Jin,” you groan, “But, yes.”

He hisses through his teeth, just like the snake he is, “Yeah, there’s no coming back from that.”

“Please,” you’re begging at this point, “Help me.”

“I don’t know what to say Y/N. The symptoms you described don’t sound like the flu, it sounds like raging thirsty hormones.”

Beep, you hear through the glass doors, making you turn, “You’re the worst,” the handle was rotating, “I gotta go, Jin. Love you, bye,” you whisper into the microphone as you grab the phone and make your way into the room for who knows what reason.

And there you were, like a fucking idiot, standing in the middle of the room when Jungkook walks in, scratching the back of his neck when you lock eyes.

“Hey.”

You bite your lip, “Hey.”

The air weighs down with words that wanted to be said and the uncertainty of what they meant, and nobody says anything as you fidget with your skirt Jungkook makes his way to his pile of clothes.

You watch as he digs his way and he seems to be looking for something.

Does he need help—

“Fucking hell, Y/N?”

Excuse me?

You come closer to his little circus act with your hands behind your back, “What?”

Jungkook stands up and you can feel his breath on the tip of your nose, “Where’s my shirt?”

Now, you were truly baffled.

“What shirt?”

He goes to the bathroom and continues his search for said shirt, “My hawaiian shirt,” his voice echoes, “It’s pink, it looks exactly like yours.”

Wow. And he picked on you for that on your very first night together. Wow.

“Why would I steal it?” You start searching through the pile of clothes on the chair, sure to find something.

“I didn’t say you stole it,” Jungkook is striding towards you, “You could’ve just gotten them mixed—.”

His sentence never finds an end when you stand up and turn at the very same moment he comes behind you, your bodies clashing and falling to the floor with a bang. Jungkook is on top of you, the only thing stopping your faces from touching being his upend arm, you don’t even notice your hand was holding onto it until you feel something flex beneath your fingertips.

Could this day get any better?

It takes a few moments for any of you to move, but when you do it’s up and rushing, both of you dusting off your clothes as if there was anything to dust off and staring intently at the ground.

“Uhm—,” Jungkook is the first to break the silence as he grabs something from behind you, “Found it.”

And you both wait for someone to say something else, still no one does and Jungkook puts the shirt back in the pile, walking towards the door.

But just before he could take those final steps, you grab him by the wrist and breathe out. You hated this.

“Look, Jungkook,” he does, “I’m really sorry for running off, I just felt really weird, you know?”

He early waits for you to continue.

“It’s just—,” you let go of him, your fingertips burning from the touch, “—today was a lot. I think we’ve never had real, sober time together that lasted for more than an hour and there was so much touching and talking,” you find yourself rambling, “It was just, really overwhelming because we’re not that close, “So, let’s just go back to insulting each other every two seconds and have a good dinner?”

He seemed to be expecting more, but if he was he doesn’t say a word about it and puts on a happy façade, “Only if you promise to not moan in the middle of our meal.”

Your expression falls flat. “You know what, forget it—.”

“Fine, fine,” he puts his hands up in defeat and unlocks the door, “They’re serving sushi tonight,” he doesn’t wait for you as he heads to the elevator, “So hurry up, dumbass.”

You smile, tucking your hair behind your ears.

Dumbass.

taglist. (open)

| @fangirl125reader / @vantxx95 / @jinpanman / @ggukkieland / @miniiimee / @giadalin / @mrcleanheichou / @btsmylife21 / @primadonnasdream / @paizthemaiz

148 notes · View notes

theleftovertaco · 3 years

Text

The Boys in Lingerie

OK FIRST EVEN VAGUELY SMUTTISH POST

Basic warnings in order please don’t interact if you don’t want to see this. Use basic judgement. You know if you’re too young to read something

Once again, I try to keep it house, gender, and year neutral so anyone can fill in the blanks where they wish, guys, gals, and nonbinary pals alike

We have standard lineup- Fred, George, Draco, Neville, Harry, Ron, Oliver, Cedric, and now Charlie and Blaise have been added!

ON TO THE FEMBOYS IN LINGERIE

Fred

You and Fred had messed around before with kinks and lingerie

He always liked how it looked on you, how the lace hugged you perfectly

Freddie is a very forthright person, if he wants to try something he will tell you in advance, and so he talks to you about him wearing some

You agree immediately and the two of you find a magazine to order some because there is no shop that sells that in Hogsmeade, unfortunately

He finds a pair of pink panties and chooses those because of course he does and when the box arrives (he has to avoid George’s questions about what's in the box)

He puts them on and then sends you a notes asking you to come to his room while no one else is there

And when you find him

“Baby boy, you look amazing.” He smirks and spins in a circle before leaping on the bed, you following close after

George

George wandered into a strange shop in muggle London when you and him were exploring during Christmas break

He found a sex shop where they sold a lot of lingerie and before he got yelled at by the shop owner to “get out, you tosser!”

He couldn’t get the lingerie out of his head

He didn’t think about you wearing it, well maybe a little. No he actually thought more about the cloth on his own body

So about a couple weeks after seeing those and getting back to school he plucked up the courage to ask you (he was a Gryffindor, dammit, he shouldn’t be scared)

“How would you feel if I... wanted to wear panties?” “Sure, love, sounds good if that’s what you want.” “Wait, that’s it?” “Yea.” “Ok good, cause I kinda already ordered them.”

He darts into the restroom to put them on and then comes out to show you and holy fuck

He’s in this pale blue pair of flower lace bikini panties and walks out looking just a little timid and you fucking jump him

Draco

Draco saw a pair of Pansy’s underwear during a game of strip poker and while most of the other guys were ogling her, he was thinking about how the silk would feel on him

He buys a pair, but then they just sit at the bottom of his trunk for about a month and a half

Then he wears them once or twice around the common room under his trousers before he even thinks of telling you

He writes you a note during History of Magic (its not like Binns will notice anyways): “Can you come to my dorm after classes today? I want to show you something.”

So you go thinking its gonna be some gift his mum sent again but you enter the dorm and see him in a pair of silk black panties

“Honey, you look fantastic!”

You may or may not have torn them off of him

He may or may not have had to buy another 10 pairs

Neville

Neville sees a girl in a thong in one of his dormmates old magazines and he just gets a little spooked

Because his immediate thought isn’t about you in them

It’s about him in them

So he panics

Slowly but surely, as your relationship progresses he gets a little more bold, in general, since you make his confidence skyrocket when you’re around him

So he wears them around during the day and when he pulls you into a empty classroom you’re a little scared about what he’s gonna do because of the timid look on his face

But he pulls down his trousers to show the pastel yellow thong he’s wearing and he slips on his old cat ears

You let out an audible groan

“Kitten, you look beautiful.”

He blushes and looks down in embarrassment just a little

“Nuh-Uh, don’t you dare look embarrassed kitten, come here.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Harry

You and Harry had a very honest relationship

He is a rather frank person and is not afraid to tell you want he wants in a relationship, but of course, you know that right out of the gate

Plus after the heels debacle, he knew never to try and hide what he wanted to wear from you

So when he discovers your collection of lingerie, he straight up asks you if he can try them on

“You sure?” “Yes please.” “Yeah ok go ahead, sunshine.”

He grins and snatches his favorite pair, a red set of satin underwear that barely cover anything

“You ready love?” “Of course sunshine, come on out!”

He steps out and you are speechless to say the least

He looks amazing and you pretty much drag him over to sit on your lap while you kiss him

So now he wears panties all the damn time because why not

If he likes it and he’s confident wearing them, you’re all for it

Ron

Ron is still a bit wary about wearing lingerie

He’s been wearing more stereotypically feminine clothes, but wearing panties is a whole other game to him

But you suggested it, and he was willing to try

It takes him a bit to warm up to the idea of lingerie

Ron has you walk him through it, what would be comfortable, what wouldn’t be, and he settles on a pair of black satin ones “They’ll be comfortable, promise!” “If you’re sure...”

You do a trial run where he just kind of lounges around the common room wearing them underneath his normal clothes

By the end of the day he’s hooked on it and you are too

He likes the softness of them

Ron has always felt like he had to be strong, and measure up to his brothers masculinity, but when he’s in the lingerie, he feels like he doesn’t have to conform to that

Anyways yes he likes the panties

Oliver

Oliver saw a pair on you once under your sweatpants when you were cuddling

“Oh, what are these?” “My panties???” “They’re pretty... do they make them for guys?”

Bro was straightforward

So you buy him a pair “I trust your judgement love, buy whatever you want!”

So he ends up with a pair of red silk ones that feel amazing

He wears them whenever possible

About a week after he starts wearing them, Angelina somehow finds out and the Gryffindor quidditch team dares him to ride on the broom in only his panties

So he tries it... before immediately slipping off and falling on his ass

“Stupid fabric.”

He manages to stay on the second time, and well, now you have a few candid shots of your boyfriend riding a broom in lingerie

Not that you’re complaining

Cedric

I need to stop calling Cedric Pretty boy, but does that mean i will? no

Pretty boy loves you in lingerie

The fabrics are always so pretty

And he has never been shy about this, so he just asks you if he can try on a pair of yours

“Yeah, of course pretty boy go ahead.” he kisses you on the cheek and runs off to find a pair

He puts on a pale yellow satin pair of briefs

And walks back into your dorm

“Fuck, pretty boy!” “You like it?” “Baby, I adore it!”

Cedric begins wearing them around campus

He likes how his thighs look in them, and soon he starts wearing them under his skirts

If he bends over, you can see it pretty easily, he knows exactly what he’s doing

He tries to rile you up

Fucking tease

Charlie

Charlie is a very muscular person

It isn’t that he doesn’t like traditionally feminine stuff, he just never thought he had the build for it

It takes a while for him to change his mind, since contrary to popular belief, he is actually pretty insecure

“Don’t you think I’d look strange in them, stocky kid in girls underwear?” “Well, it’s not just for girls, and no you would not! I happen to think that you would look beautiful!”

He likes that word. Beautiful

People have always described him as handsome, cute, but never beautiful

So he agrees

Maybe it’s something about wizarding Romania that’s more accepting but when the lady at the shop you go to sees that the panties are more fit for Charlie, she winks at the two of you and says to “have fun with those”

So he puts them on and holy shit

He understands it now

He feels beautiful

Blaise

Blaise likes being pretty lets be real

He doesn’t really give a flying fuck what people think of him

So he jumps on panties real quick

Finds the prettiest pair of emerald panties he can find and he loves them almost immediately

He likes putting on a short skirt and makeup on to top off his whole vibe because why not

Another thing about Blaise is that he is a fucking flirt

With everyone, not just you

And while you trust that he would never cheat on you or betray you, if he gets a little too flirty with anyone else, all you have to do is creep your hand up to the satin undergarment and give it a little tug to remind him who he belongs to

You, bitch, it’s you

Ok that’s it for now idk what I’m doing next so if you want me to write something please send me an ask. Also I rarely write suggestive/smut fics if you know ways that I can make this better please for the love of god let me know.

This feels like a good time to say that this is the final set of characters. I have 10 right now, and if I keep accepting more people I’ll just end up doing 20 characters every time. I love doing these but I don’t have the time or energy to do every single character, it just would not be good for my mental health. That being said, if you want a specific headcanon of a specific character, please SEND ME AN ASK so I know that you want that directly. I would be more than happy to write it for you.

306 notes · View notes

svnflowervol666 · 3 years

Text

Ma Petite Chérie: Christmas Then (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Read more from this little universe, Ma Petite Chérie, in my masterlist!

Word Count: 6k

Summary: It’s the happiest time of the year, but it couldn’t be more miserable for Harry and Y/N.

Author’s Note: Reupload because it wasn’t working in the tags! Here is the first of two Christmas bits for Harry, Y/N and Tallulah! I’ve told you all that I planned on writing about Harry and Y/N breaking up early on in their relationship, so I decided to add a little Christmas spirit into the mix in honor of the season. I promise, the next part isn’t this sad. I always feel like I’m not that great at writing angst, mostly because it hurts my heart too much, but I hope I did this story enough justice. Feedback is greatly appreciated, it helps to keep me going and to write things that you guys actually want to read. Any who, enjoy! The next part will be up by the end of the month. Take care and TPWK.

Harry had never thought that a night out with his colleagues would cost him his world. It was supposed to be a celebration of another successful year at his job, nothing more. It was supposed to be dinner, a few rounds of whiskey with his team, and an early night back to the two girls he loved the most who waited impatiently for his return. It wasn’t supposed to be a trip to the club, where the bass in the speakers replaced Harry’s own heartbeat and made his mind temporarily forget where his priorities lied. He thought that he’d only be there long enough to not seem like an uptight asshole that didn’t care to have any fun, but alas. Harry can be quite the pushover, and quickly slipped into that inedbriated state that often persuades you to do things you know you shouldn’t.

Harry had certainly thought wrong.

Y/N, on the other hand, was only supposed to be gone long enough to clear her head. Steam was practically billowing out of her at lightspeed the night this all happened. It would later be referred to as “The-Incident-That-We-Don’t-Speak-About-Because-It’s-Painful-Too-Even-Think-About” in the future, but right now, it consumed her. Every little detail of that night and the argument that followed haunted her like a reoccurring bad dream that she couldn’t shake. The way he smelled like cigarettes from keeping his coworkers company on the club’s smoking patio, the way his eyes were glassy from one (or two) ((or three)) too many shots of tequila, the way he yelled at her. She had assured him that all she needed was time to think, and then she’d be back to talk. At the time, she had told him that she quite frankly didn’t want to even be in the same postal code as him, so she left. All that was in the duffle bag she packed in four minutes flat was her toothbrush, face wash, and enough clothes to get her through the weekend while she cooled off at her friend’s apartment.

She didn’t plan on being gone for sixteen days.

A lot had occurred to her in her time away from Harry. One, was that this was the first time they had fought. Ever. She’d always wondered if her time with Harry would ever stop feeling like a fairytale that only existed in novels and storybooks. Everything about the two of them was picture-perfect from its conception, and had somehow only gotten sweeter as the years had passed. She firmly believed that they weren’t like everybody else, those that put on a charade around others, but were unbearably miserable in private. She had started to think that maybe it was supernatural, the way that they fit together so perfectly that she thought no one else on the planet could make her feel the way Harry does, perfectly complete and peaceful. But it was turning out to be as simple as the age-old saying, life is not always rainbows and butterflies.

Two, was this really what Y/N wanted? She didn’t give it a second thought when it came to Harry having a child, quickly stepping into the role of being someone important in Tallulah’s life. And Harry let her, too. As cautious as he is about who he involves his daughter with, it was almost scary the way he let her in and allowed her to love and care for her. Yes, scary. Scary, because children are permanent and they are hard work and they include making sacrifices that sometimes don’t seem fair. So, Y/N had been asking herself if this was where she saw herself staying, as she had too big of a heart to become such an important character in Tallulah’s life to decide somewhere down the line that she suddenly didn’t want to be tied down anymore. It wasn’t fair to the poor girl, just a measly four years old, to have to go through losing someone that had promised to love her forever. Twice.

Deep down, she knew that this, Harry’s modest yet still lavish home with a pastel yellow door and vegetable garden out back that was often littered with dolls and abandoned sun hats from the cutest little thing that Y/N had ever seen, was where she wanted to be. But this brought her to the third thing she had pondered whilst she rotted on her friend’s uncomfortable sofa at 2 a.m. as she’d waited for her melatonin supplements to enter her system and send her off into a subdued state.

Could she ever forgive him for what he said?

It was just one week before Christmas. Harry texted her at least once everyday, Y/N only replying to the ones when he’d asked her if she was ready to talk, to which she’d tell him that she wasn’t, and that she promised she’d tell him when she was. Part of her stayed away from him for so long because she feared that somehow, deep down, the right thing to do was to stay away forever, and that was certainly going to be the worst day of her life. It would be for the better, Y/N thinks, if that is the case, but she’s trying very hard not to think about that being the endgame for her and Harry. Hence the inner turmoil that’s consuming Y/N’s body whole.

Sarah had promised her that Harry wasn’t coming. They sided with her on this one, she’d said, thus rescinding his invitation to her and Mitch’s annual holiday party. It felt somewhat wrong to be going to see Harry’s friends without him, especially given the fact that they’d more or less been split up for the past two weeks. But as much as they were Harry’s friends, they were also hers too. Harry really knew how to pick the ones he held closest - they were good people. He knows how to chose them because Harry is also a good person and Y/N knows this, and that makes it all the more painful when she pulls into the car park designated for guests of the condominium where Mitch and Sarah lived.

They’d seemed a bit off when they welcomed her into the sizey flat with the small, wrapped gift she’d brought for their exchange, but Y/N dismisses their seemingly rehearsed greetings as pity. Although the last thing she wants is to talk about Harry, she finds their condolences and overall presence soothing. She hadn’t seen much aside from her friend that she’d been staying with and her overweight, powder white cat these days, so human interracton in any capacity was refreshing.

Until it wasn’t.

The longer she stood in the circle of the others that came to the party, mindlessly nodding along to whatever was being said but not actually paying any attention, the longer she was left to sit with her thoughts. She remembers the three other times she’d come to Mitch and Sarah’s for this exact party, and how warm and loved she felt. Right now, all she feels is the cold radiating off of the sliding glass door that she’s leaning on and loneliness. To Y/N, it almost felt like everyone in the room knew what had happened to her and Harry. Like they were trying too hard to be cordial with her because they saw her as the girl that Harry yelled terrible things at and did terrible things too. It was overbearing and she had to get out before she exploded.

Finding aid in the very sliding glass door that chilled her to the bone, she wandered out on the patio to get away from the noise that was so loud yet so quiet at the same time. Tiny snowflakes coated the railing and the outdoor furniture, enough to illuminate her surroundings in an almost purple glow despite the time of night. If Tallulah were here, she’d convince Y/N to catch them on her tongue with her. Any other time, a thought like that would have made her smile, but right now it just made her sad. She wasn’t wearing a coat, yet she couldn’t find herself to care in this moment.

She wanted Harry. She wanted Harry there with her, whispering in her ear that Josie is full of herself and will say anything to get people’s attention and that he thinks they should ditch the party early so they can “warm each other up” at home. Despite the ache in her bones that wished for him, she couldn’t stop thinking about the last time she saw him.

“You’re lying.”

“Wha’ are you talkin’ about, Y/N?” he was swaying back and forth where he stood, clearly too drunk to keep his balance.

He almost sounded annoyed, but it was moreso because she’d interrupted his treck to the bedroom where his warm bed was waiting for him to ail his drunkenness and less because of her prodding.

“Clara was there, Harry. At the club. The one you forgot to tell me you were going to? She saw you. Talking to her. Any of that ring a bell?”

She made sure not to raise her voice in fear of waking up the toddler that had fallen asleep on the sofa waiting for her dad to come home so she could show him the ornaments she’d made with Y/N while he was gone, but he hadn’t come home when he’d promised her. Y/N wasn’t trying to fight, just get some answers. Yet here Harry stood, in their bathroom, lying to her face.

“Okay. So she was there ‘n we talked. We work for the same people. You’re not tellin’ me your mad that I talked t’ her about work, are yeh? Talked t’ her about work at a work party?”

“I’m not stupid, Harry. Stop doing that.”

Harry huffed in annoyance, as if her mere presence was beginning to cause his disdain.

“Then stop actin’ like it was somethin’ that it wasn’t. Swear t’ you. She came up to me, asked how Lulah had been, we talked about work for a second, and that was it. Fuck, even told her about you for christ’s sake.”

“I couldn’t care less that you talked to her, Harry. It’s the fact that you didn’t tell me you’d be out later than you said, went to a club, talked to her, the girl that broke your fucking heart, and I found out from a friend. And when I asked you about it, you lied. Do you see how fucking bad that looks?”

“Why don’t yeh ask Clara what she saw, hmm? Since you’re so keen on taking her word for it. She’s gonna tell you that nothing. Happened. I’m truly sorry I didn’t tell yeh I’d be out late. Didn’t think I’d be gone that long and just got carried away.”

Y/N was fighting tears now. He was talking in circles, unwilling to see her side and acknowledge that he’d done wrong.

“That’s what you’ve been saying for the past month, Harry. You’re always getting carried away with work and leaving me to take care of her. I can’t tell you how many times Tallulah’s asked why you’re always missing dinner and why you don’t go take her to her ice skating lessons or help her wash her hair anymore. She misses you. So do I. And then you go and do this. I know you’re busy this time of year but I also know you’re doing more than you’re being asked of, so don’t pull that shit with me. Would it kill you to come home every now and then and at least eat some pasta with your fucking daughter?”

Harry’s brows were furrowed together, eyes dark and half-shut in what was the beginning of a drunken rage. For a split second, Y/N saw a flicker of sadness within the deep green of his irises, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“Yeh say that like she’s a burden. ‘S that it? You’re mad that you have t’ babysit?”

“Harry,” Y/N warned him.

He was treading territory that would be hard to back away from once he took the first step.

“What? If it was that big of a fuckin’ deal, you could have told me that you don’t like keeping after her.”

“Jesus, it’s not!”

She was yelling now, unable to keep her emotions from getting the best of her. She looked after Tallulah like she was the one that had given birth to the four year old that slept peacefully on the couch, cuddling her stuffed elephant in place of her father.

“You know that I love her and that I’d do anything for her, but it’s different when you leave me alone with her all of the time. She needs you, Har. More than she needs me, and you’re acting like your job is more important than her. You have to be there for her, Harry.”

A nasty scoff left Harry’s chest that would haunt Y/N forever. She’d never forget what he said next.

“Right. Thanks for the parenting tip. Last time I checked you weren’t her fucking mu-”

“Yeh gonna freeze t’ death out here, ya know?”

The same voice that plagued her head pulled her out of reliving the events that landed her here, on a snow-covered patio, just as the first of what she knew were going to be many tears rolled down her face.

Y/N whipped her head around, frowning when she realized that Sarah and Mitch had lied to her and that they definitely had invited both of them to the Christmas party.

“Should have known those two were up to something,” was all she replied, quickly swiping the single, stray tear that stung her cheek as it touched the cold air.

“Jesus, you’re shivering. Here,” Harry began shrugging off his coat, ready to offer it to Y/N to keep her from catching pnuemonia.

She hadn’t realized just how cold she was. Her lips felt like they were going to crack at any moment, and she was almost certain it would take upwards of an hour for her to feel her toes again.

“Harry-” Y/N started, her voice sounding soft and defeated.

“Please don’t be stupid, Y/N. You’re gonna get sick.”

He spoke to her in the way that he would Tallulah when she refused to let him brush her hair after a bath, sternly insisting that she’d wake up with painful knots in her head if she didn’t let him run a comb through it. There was something comforting about it, but also something so incredibly sad about it all at the same time.

Reluctantly and without looking him directly in the eyes, she took the long, fur-lined coat from his hands, almost flinching when she accidentally touched pinkies with him. The coat was well-loved, ridden with his scent and most likely permanently stained with a little bit of spit up from when Tallulah was a baby. It smelled like home, Y/N thought.

There was a long pause between them, neither knowing what to say or where to even start. Y/N found herself missing Harry even more now that he was standing right next to her, brawny arms leaning against the frozen railing.

“How’s Lulah?” she asked, able to find her voice amongst the anxiety prodding every inch of her body.

Harry nodded as if to say she was alright, then cleared his throat.

“Good. Misses you.”

He wanted to tell her that he missed her, too. A whole fucking lot. But he was trying to prolong having that conversation in fear that it wouldn’t end the way he’d planned it in his head and she’d walk away from him forever.

“She asks about you every day. ‘Bout when you’re comin’ home. Said she doesn’t like how quiet it is without your music playing in the kitchen.”

She was crying now. Fat, wet, silent tears in the opposite of Harry’s direction so he couldn’t see. She missed hearing Tallulah’s raspy voice asking her question after question about where eggs come from and why anyone would dare take away someone’s babies the way farmers do with mummy chickens.

“I know you’re not ready to talk,” Harry began.

“But do yeh think you could at least come home? It doesn’t feel right without you there.”

Y/N did what she could could manage the tears streaming down her face like a waterfall, hoping Harry would think her face was just cold as she aggressively rubbed her cheeks with her fists.

She was ready to give in, seeing him in person immediately shattering any bit of strength to stay away from him that she had left. Maybe she’d find some clarity if she stopped sleeping on a pull-out sofa that did absolutely nothing for her already-bad back and went back to where she’d lived for over a year with the two people she felt like she’d spent a lifetime loving.

Slowly, her eyes went to meet his. She saw how tired he looked, for lack of a better word. Even though it was dark, the light from the snow accentuated the deep circles under his eyes. His hair looked like it hadnt been washed in days, the way it used to look when Tallulah was a baby that cried at all hours of the night. His posture was, to be quite honest, shittier than it normally was. Y/N knows it hasn’t been that long since she’d been gone, but she could almost swear he looked skinnier than the last time she’d seen him, given that the hollows of his cheeks looked concave and scrawny.

Just as she parted her surely-blue lips, ready to tell him everything she’d wanted to tell him for the past two weeks, the ringing of Harry’s cell phone caused them both to jump.

“Fuck,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“’M sorry. It’s mum. She’s got Lulah. Give me just one second.”

His eyes were pleading, almost like he was silently begging her not to run off if that’s what she was thinking of doing. Y/N’s ears perked up at the mention of his mother. She wondered if she knew about any of this. Surely she did, as Harry tends to confide in her for just about everything.

She was trying not to be nosy, but it appeared that Anne was speaking quite loudly, so it was a bit hard for her not to. She couldn’t make out exactly what she was saying, but she did hear one word. It was clear as day, and she knew immediately that something was wrong.

Raspberries.

Y/N’s head whipped around in Harry’s direction, and she saw the way his face was void of all color and his chest had started to heave.

“That’s never happened before. Did you give her the antihistamine?....What’s she sayin’?....Jesus Christ, mum. You have to calm down. Just go ahead and take her. I’ll meet yeh there. They’ll probably just have t’ give her a shot or somethin’....Mum, it’s alright. You didn’t know. Just get her in the car, please. I’ll be there in twenty.”

Harry clicked his phone off and shoved it in his back pocket, a sense of urgency taking over him.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’ve got t-”

“What happened?”

Y/N was just as worried as Harry was, feeling sick to her stomach that something clearly awful had happened to her.

“Mum’s watching Rosie, too. Lulah got into the bag Gem packed for her and ate somethin’ with raspberries in it. Said her throat feels scratchy, which is-”

“That’s not normal,” Y/N stated, being keenly aware of how Tallulah only ever tends to break out in a slight rash every time she eats the bright pink fruit.

“Yeah,” Harry replied.

“Y/N, I have t’ go. But I really want to talk t’ you. You don’t have t’ say anything back. Just hear me out, yeah? Please don’t disappear on me again.”

She wasn’t listening to him, only worried about the little girl with too many allergies and a keen interest in anything sweet.

“Can I go with you?”

Her voice was quiet, as if she were afraid of Harry telling her that she wasn’t allowed to see his daughter. She knew it was his decision and that she had to respect it, but all she wanted to do was hold her tiny body in her arms and tell her how much she missed her and that she was going to be alright.

Harry stuttered a bit, clearly not expecting her to ask him such a thing. Part of him was happy that she was willingly offering to be near him, but he supposes it’s only got to do with her worry for his daughter.

“I, erm, uh, yeah. Of course. Let’s go. Mum’s taking her t’ the hospital over by her house.”

He ushered her back into the warm apartment and back out the front door towards his car. They couldn’t even be bothered to acknowledge the stares thrown their way.

The car ride was quiet. Harry had left the radio off during his drive to Mitch and Sarah’s, too busy rehearsing what he was going to say to Y/N if she actually let him talk to her. Y/N sat with her knees to her chest, but opted not to turn away from him. That was a good sign, Harry thought. The heat was on, but Y/N was still freezing. She supposes Harry was right about her getting sick.

“Could you drive a little faster?” Y/N asked after some time, fiddling with the cuff of her jeans.

“No,” Harry retorted.

“It’s snowing, Y/N. Don’t need all three of us t’ end up in the hospital.”

She had half the nerve to roll her eyes at him, but she knew he was right.

“Hey,” Harry called out to her.

He started to reach over the center console for her hand out of habit, but felt his heart sink into his stomach when he remembered the state of their relationship and slowly retracted it. He thought she didn’t notice, but she did.

“She’s gonna be fine. Mum said she wasn’t even crying. Probably just needs a few shots t’ make the swelling go down.”

Y/N nodded instead of responding, sinking further into the seat but keeping her eyes on the snowy road ahead of her.

Silence took over again as they trecked through the snow towards Tallulah, with tension so thick it felt suffocating. From the corner of her eye, she saw a pair of Tallulah’s winter gloves tucked into one of the cup holders and she wanted to cry again.

But instead of doing that, she laid her palm face-up on the console, waiting for Harry’s eyes to catch them. When they did, he hesitated, flickering between her hand and her face. She still wasn’t looking directly at him, but he knew she knew he was looking at her.

He tested her first, lying his hand next to hers, but not touching. She didn’t pull her hand away, and he swears when he looked down, he saw her hand inch towards his as if she were coaxing him. Harry thinks this might be the last time he gets to touch her if she decides that she can’t forgive him for what he said, so he goes for it.

He laces his fingers with hers, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief take over his head and his heart when he finally got to feel her skin against his after what felt like centuries. She doesn’t wrap her fingers around his like he did to hers, her hand still lying limp against the arm rest, but he’s okay with that.

It isn’t until they’re pulling into the hospital that Y/N gives Harry’s hand a squeeze.

They were getting there. At least Harry hoped.

Y/N is physically unable to keep herself from smiling when she hears Tallulah practically squeal her name the second she steps into the room she’d been given. Her voice was deeper than usual, most definitely due to the accident that landed her here in the first place. Tallulah all but jumped out of her bed to greet her with a hug, which Y/N accepted without a second thought as she wrapped her arms around the small girl and sat with her on the bed, most likely staining Harry’s coat with the emollient cream they’d coated her rash with at the hospital. As if that coat could take any more beatings.

Harry watched from the corner, feeling somewhat out of place for whatever reason. He knew he owed Y/N an apology for what he said to her that night, and at that moment he felt like he owed Tallulah one, too. How could he say those things to her? How could he let his arrogance get the best of him and ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to him?

Anne briefed him while Tallulah had her mini-reunion with Y/N, letting him know they’d given her a few shots and could go home as soon as the swelling in her throat had gone down. She wouldn’t stop apologizing to Harry for causing her grandbaby harm, but Harry assured her for the twentieth time that accidents happen and that it certainly could have been worse. Anne soon sensed the tension between Harry and who she hoped would be her daughter-in-law one day, and told Harry she’d better get going because she’d left Rosie with the neighbor. Her eyes urged Harry to fix this shit at all costs because she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and Harry was not one to disobey his mother.

“Are you coming home?” Harry heard Tallulah ask Y/N.

He locked eyes with her for a split-second.

“Yeah,” Y/N sighed.

Harry felt his heart jump as he was now paying extra attention to the woman holding his daughter like she was the most precious thing on earth.

“Gotta make sure you get tucked into bed alright.”

And then it sunk.

“Will you be there when I wake up?” Tallulah asked with eerily familiar green eyes peering up at Y/N from her lap.

This time it was her heart that sunk.

“I....don’t know, Lulah. We’ll see,” she whispered, feeling tears pool in her eyes once again.

Y/N hid her face in Tallulah’s hair, for fear that Harry would see her.

“How’s Carrot, hmm? ‘S he doing good?” Y/N blurts out in diversion, hoping Tallulah would be more interested in talking about the fish Y/N had won her at a carnival a few years ago than where she stood with her and Harry.

Tallulah talked her ear off, filling her in on everything she’d missed while she was gone. She tells Y/N that their kale plant in the garden was huge now, seemingly sprouting overnight. She also tells Y/N that Rosie can walk now, or at least can wobble a few steps before falling down on her bum.

Harry watches as Y/N pretends like everything Tallulah is telling her is the most interesting news she’s ever heard. That’s what parents do, and that’s exactly what Harry had shouted at Y/N that she wasn’t. He had fucked up in the worst way and only fate could tell him whether or not he’d be able to fix it.

It was Harry’s turn to cry now, pretending to rub exhaustion out of his eyes rather than tears. Much like earlier when he’d instinctively reached for her hand, he’d hoped she didn’t see it.

She did.

Y/N kept her promise to Tallulah and tucked her into bed after she was discharged and sent home with a steroid pack and rash cream. She willed away the wave of nausea she felt walking into the house she’d shared with Harry after all of this time, telling herself that she just needed to make sure Tallulah knew she was at least there to tuck her in. She took turns with Harry, each of them running their fingers through her curls and telling her to have sweet dreams and that they hoped she felt better in the morning. Tallulah insisted that she was fine and wanted to stay up and talk to Y/N about what she thought Santa was doing right now and if he was going to bring her the glittery nail polish that she’d asked him for, but the sleepiness in her eyes told a different story.

“Do you want me t’ call Sarah and have her take you back to your car?” Harry asked when they returned to the living room where they’d entered.

“Figured we ought to have that talk,” she said, unable to meet his eyes for the umpteenth time that night.

“Yeah,” Harry replied in a tone that almost sounds like relief.

“We can definitely do that.”

The pair find their way to the couch, sitting faced towards each other, but not touching. It’s awkward and it makes Y/N want to fall apart because this is her Harry and she’s in her own home, yet it didn’t quite feel it.

“You hurt my feelings,” is all she says, picking at a loose thread on the sofa.

“I know I did,” Harry began.

“I can’t take any of that back, but I want you t’ know how sorry I am, Y/N. None of that shit was true. I should have told you I was gonna be out late. Shouldn’t have even gone out with them, t’ be honest. I couldn’t even tell yeh why I lied when you asked if I saw her there. Just didn’t want you t’ get the wrong idea, I guess.”

“Harry, I already told you that I didn’t care that you-”

“I know yeh did,” Harry interjected, “But I want you t’ know that I’d never even think about doing something like that t’ you. You’re quite literally the best thing that’s ever happened t’ me. Sometimes I don’t even think you’re real. I wouldn’t have made it without you. Neither would Lulah. And that...”

He pauses, trying not to burst into tears right in front of her. Y/N sees his jaw tensing, something Tallulah does when she’s attempting to calm herself down after throwing a fit. She isn’t sure why, but she begins to feel at ease the longer he talks. Maybe it’s just hearing the sound of his voice after so long or maybe it’s because he’s telling her what she’s been wanting to hear, what she was once afraid that she’d never be able to.

“That shit I said about you not being Lulah’s mum. That’s a load. I know you know that. You are her mum, whether she knows that or not. I’m sure she does... I know she does. You’ve been there for everything. You never complain when it gets hard. Yeh could’ve been doing anything else besides helping my sorry ass take care of her, but you didn’t. ‘M not sure if I’m doin’ a good job of convincing you to stay, wouldn’t blame you if yeh didn’t want to, but I really hope that you do. If you don’t, I still want yeh t’ know that you’re her mum. You’ve done things for her that she doesn’t even realize. She loves you so much, Y/N. And so do I. You’re the love of my life. Always will be. I don’t think there’s anybody else out there that makes me feel the way you do. You’re it for me and I need you t’ know that.”

He’s blubbering now, not caring that she sees the salty streaks subconsciously flowing from his dark and gloomy eyes. He felt it coming. She was going to leave. She was going to finish packing tonight and walk out of his life and he wouldn’t get to spend the rest of his life showing her how much he loved her.

That’s when he feels a hand on his shoulder. It’s light, but it’s meant to be comforting.

“Can it be my turn now?” her voice laced with tears as well.

Clearly it was a night for crying.

Harry nods, because that’s all he can do.

“I was frustrated, that night. I don’t think I should have made as big of deal out of you staying out so la-”

“No. You should have. I was being an ars-”

“Harry,” she pleads, “Let me finish, please.”

He lets out a shaky, “Okay,” and she continues.

“It’s not a big deal when you go out with your friends. You’ve just been so....absent lately and that was what set me off. When Clara called me that night it was just so, embarrassing I guess? I didn’t know what to say to her, and it obviously didn’t look good. But I know you wouldn’t do that to me. You’re a good person and a good dad, Harry. I hope you know that, even if you don’t feel like it right now. And the Lulah thing...that hurt. A lot. I know you’re stubborn and hate admitting that you’re wrong, so I’m going to let that speak for itself, but I’ve never once regretted anything that I’ve done with you two. I knew it would be different being with you, but I’ve never thought of any of this as a sacrifice or a burden. You guys make me so happy. I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much of a privilege this has felt like to me, to be able to watch her grow up and be a part of it. She is the most magical thing that’s ever happened to me. And so are you.”

Harry’s staring at her, still crying, sillhouette lit up by the lights on the Christmas tree behind her that’s decorated with the ornaments she made with his daughter on that dreadful night. He doesn’t want to hurt Lulah’s feelings, but he makes a mental note to throw them away the second he’s able to so he doesn’t have to think about this ever again.

“I love you, Harry. Please don’t ever lie to me again. Even if it’s about how many minutes you are away from the grocery store. I can’t take it. And I can’t stand to feel so far away from you like this. It’s....gross. And I hate it.”

He perks up at what she’s just said, wondering if she’s saying what he thinks she’s saying.

“You’re staying?” he sounds hoarse and both him and Y/N know he’ll wake up in the morning with a headache from how much he’d been crying.

“Don’t think I have it in me to leave, bubs.”

There’s the slightest hint of a smile on her lips, and Harry’s pulling her into his chest. She holds him as he weeps silently into her neck. The cloud of sadness that had held her captive like a nightmare rushed out of her body so quickly that she couldn’t quite process it. All she felt now were Harry’s arms holding her close and his blubbering into her hair about how he was sorry over and over again.

“I know you are,” Y/N cooed, scratching his scalp in the way that she knew calmed him down.

“‘M gonna keep sayin’ it until you believe me,” he whimpered.

“I do believe you, Harry. I promise. We’re gonna be alright.”

That seemed to steady him a bit as he collected himself. He still held her as his shaking breaths began to even out. He wouldn’t dream of letting her go ever again.

“We’re gonna be alright,” Harry repeated to her, his voice almost inaudible had Y/N not been as close to him as she possibly could have been.

She pulls back to brush the stray curls from his forehead, where she pressed her lips gently to his temple as if he was so delicate that he might shatter if she used anymore force.

This time it was Y/N that saw his face surrounded by the multi-colored lights strung around the fir tree they’d picked from the farm just days before they thought their world was ending. He was beautiful, from the crown of his hair to the tips of his toes, inside and out, she thought. Maybe he didn’t feel like it at the moment, but Y/N made a promise to herself that she’d spend the rest of her life proving to him that he was.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles writing #dad!harry #dad!harry styles #dad!harry x reader #dad!harry styles x reader

288 notes · View notes

lovelypotato111 · 2 years

Text

What Could Have Been

This is a short fanfic of about 2.5k words of trans Armin in a *kinda* murder mystery in the 1900s

This is my first fanfic here so plz plz plz let me know what you think

______________________________________________________________

The last time I stayed up long enough to see the sunrise was before I killed Mother.

She would bounce into my bed and tickle my chest and neck in the dark hours of the morning. It was very effective in waking up a child from the midst of her sugar-filled dreams. Father says I get grouchy when I don’t wake of my own accord, but that never happened with Mother. I was happy to see her beautiful face and hear her hushed giggles regardless of when or how or whatever discomfort I was feeling.

“Come with me, my darling,” she would say. “I have a surprise for you.”

I followed her like a blind duckling out the bedroom window and through the grass. It was a game of how far I could run after her without calling for her to pause. Every time she said she had a surprise, I would know exactly where we were going. We scurried past the chicken coop and climbed onto the isolated deck.

Mother stored all her supplies under the floorboards there. In the blackness of the night, she would set up her easel, and I would watch, transfixed at how effortless she made it all seem. She moved like a fairy, holding her magic wand to the canvas and dipping it into the spells she squeezed from her bottles with nothing but starlight to guide her. It was hard to see my own hand in front of me, but Mother didn’t need anything as insignificant as vision.

“What you see with your eyes isn’t always what is, my darling,” she told me. “When you learn to see with your heart, that’s when the real magic happens and you see what is beyond.”

I never understood what she meant until after her death.

I was going through her things again, and found the set of paintings she would only ever make in the dead of night. The colors were always a little bit off, and understandably so, except for one specific piece.

Mother’s best work.

Neither of us wanted to go back inside that day. I sat quietly by her side, and she told me stories of princes and dragons and everything we will never know outside of the pictures in our minds.

“All the plants and animals around us want to be born as humans in their next life. They look at us and think, ‘Wow I would like to be sitting there at that easel’ or ‘I wish I had such delicious food and such a warm home.’ Finally, after many trials and many failures, a soul is able to reincarnate as a person. This is your story and your gift. Don’t waste this priceless opportunity, and live however you wish and do whatever makes you happy,” she once said.

But she never really believed in that story. She mustn’t have, or she would still be alive.

That day, we sat there next to each other until small wisps of orange and pink spilled out over the trees. Mother gasped softly and shook my leg.

“The night is beautiful, my darling, but it only makes you appreciate the candy-like sunrise even more. And the same is true for the opposite. The mix of colors in the sky and life waking up all around us teaches us to appreciate the expanse of black and peaceful silence of the night.”

I had never looked at that painting before, even when Mother was making it. I was too busy gazing at her. In the light, she didn’t look like a fairy anymore.

She was a child of the early morning sky. Golden yellow rays illuminated her cheeks when she sat by her easel. Her skin shimmered like powdered pearls, and I thought she looked so, so beautiful. I wanted to look just like her when I was grown.

A piece of curly dark blonde hair escaped from her bun, and the frazzled bits seemed to glimmer. Her entire being seemed to phase into the air, or perhaps she was an extension of the dawn.

She put her brush down and closed her eyes as she inhaled the pastel colors around us, painting her lungs the same as her canvas. It was a picture forever etched in her soul. A reminder of the unfiltered euphoria from the smallest things the world has to offer in a place only she can see.

I copied her to make my own souvenir, but I carved an iridescent glass statue of Mother in my heart instead. The sunrise isn’t what made the moment so beautiful after all.

I was already in my day clothes by the time Father came to collect me. Mother’s painting was tucked behind the laundry since he never goes where “women and servants belong.” Her hair was still in a bun, and there was a small yellow stain on her left ring finger, which she kept behind my back. I was ushered out of the room, and I could see him grabbing her arm and forcing her fist from behind her own back through the crack in the door. Lillian came to fetch me as she always does before starting her chores. She cleans the windows as I study arithmetic and history, the way Father says it should be.

Words drifted on the morning breeze in Father’s voice, like “only concern yourself with the boy and the household” and “will not tolerate this waste of money for unladylike behavior anymore.”

Father didn’t show up to dinner even though it was well past noon. Mother said it was because he was busy, but the guilty expression on her face proved otherwise. I knew it had something to do with this morning, but I also knew better than to ask. Mother’s brain is made of eyes, however, and she knew what I knew.

“You know, my ocean, the people who shame you for being who you are are screaming from behind their own chains. This includes your father. And me too.”

Only Mother calls me “my ocean”. And “darling.” Father calls me “the boy” or “Armin” if there’s company. I like hearing the name “Armin” from Mother’s mouth, however, even if it isn’t mine.

“Why does Father disapprove of your paintings?”

A shadow of exhaustion from a lifetime of war darted across her face.

“He doesn’t see the world the same way we do, darling. I capture our world on that canvas, and he doesn’t understand it from inside his box. But his approval means nothing. I control what I make, not what others interpret.”

I get dressed for the day and head out to town for breakfast and a cup of tea. There are no lessons today. Father needs to keep up appearances of grievance, so as not to add more fuel to the overspreading wildfire of gossip. I sit in a lone booth in the darkest corner of the teahouse for the security of its isolation. I clutch Mother’s brooch and turn it over in my hands without the slightest bit of pressure lest I break it like I broke her.

Her brooch is not delicate in the least. It survived everything Mother didn’t, after all. Even her death. They retrieved it from her blouse when they found her body and Father had no use for it, so it was passed down to me. Table scraps absentmindedly tossed to a dog. One of the petals, a hushed baby pink color, was chipped but the brooch was otherwise intact. The diamond center of the flower and the rose-gold swirling stems were dulled with time and love, the luster and sparkle slowly fading over its lifetime like its owner.

Mother was wearing this brooch when she painted that sunrise, when she ate with me when Father didn’t show up, and when she handed me her art supplies to dispose of discreetly.

I never did. Even to a murderer like myself that seemed heartless. I tucked it away somewhere and forgot all about its existence.

Mother never came into my room for an early morning adventure under the constellations after that day. I dared question her about it once, and she turned her head and buried her thoughts and words in her breakfast. The light in her eyes dimmed slightly with each passing day, but I was seeing her through gold-tinted crystal lenses and didn’t notice. There used to be a pump in her heart that would release little sugar-plums and Ulysses butterflies that resembled the bejeweled sea with each push. As her eyes darkened, so did her heart, and the pain started to clog that pump until all the plums and butterflies were trapped and couldn’t escape. It was unfair, but life picks and chooses whom it favors, whom it neglects, and whom it spites.

A new crack appeared in my marble mind every time her pump buffered, but a man who lives in a desert can’t feel the heat after a while. Mother’s unhappiness became routine, and her blossoming cruelty became commonplace.

The hushed voices of the teahouse drag me by the throat to the present.

“Is that the child?”

“How could that happen?”

“The poor husband.”

Their words are like mer-creatures above land. Insufferable screeching with no end.

Eyes cut into me from all corners of the room. They emerge from the ground and furniture in tumors until they’re all I can see. They squeeze around my legs and my arms as cancerous tentacles and drag me into their quicksand portal to shame.

Before they can swallow me whole, I leave my coat, fee, and half-finished tea in that booth and flee from the impending misery.

I take refuge in a park nearby. The velvet treetops are a barrier from the needle-toothed foxes in pretty gowns and expensive watches.

“You must never show weakness. The world is like a moat and people are like hungry crocodiles desperately awaiting their next meal. If you lose your footing on the rocks, you’ll fall into the moat and be devoured. You must always be perfect,” Mother said once.

Peals of soft laughter like belled anklets waft through the butterweeds. I heard something like this once when Father had me visit the boarding schools before Mother’s death. I had gotten lost on my way to the library and ended up on the womens’ floor. Their giggles and gossip were a siren’s call beckoning me to join in their innocent mischief and harmless schemes.

“You’re so talented. I wish I was unique like you,” they said to each other.

But they didn’t realize that being ordinary is a luxury taken for granted by those who don’t suffer the same.

The eyes start coming out of the snowdrops as the laughter in the park fades to red. My sanctuary is no longer safe. I escape once more until I can finally breathe again. There are too many people on this street to notice the black mark on my conscience.

I draw a deep breath in and stroll down the street, mixing into the crowd of ants until I am invisible and insignificant. My legs walk themselves and the body attached to them follows absentmindedly.

Mother’s favorite boutique. That’s where I end up.

A chiffon gown the color of the midday summer ocean is displayed in the window, the same color as my eyes. If I could only go inside and float into it like a Mountain Bluebird. Feel the fabric twist and jump with every movement I make. Perhaps in another life I won’t be Armin anymore. I will be Marina, like I call myself in the dark hours of the morning with nothing but the walls as my witness. Perhaps Mother might even have called me that on our surprise adventures as another of our secrets. But it is futile to think too much on what could have been. I look at the dress once more, and my body is ice.

She is dead because of a gown just like this.

I believed she was in town, so I felt innocuous in visiting her room. Nights alone with only my name for company made my heart ache, and I was foolish enough to try and claim a slice of the life I wished for. I pulled the cursed dress out of her closet and held it up to my body. Oh, the exultation I felt. The sound it made when I turned. The ripples, like rain on a silver lake, when I walked. I rejoiced in just how right it was, but triumph seldom differentiates itself from defeat.

I was too distracted by my own jubilation to notice those dreaded footsteps. It was only when Mother’s head was in view that I threw the dress back into the closet and hid behind the door. Mother’s footsteps stopped for a few moments in the deafening silence throttling my lungs before she turned and went back from where she came.

Her body was found the next morning.

She had climbed the roof the same way I had seen her do with the grace and effortless strength of a kelpie. She had worn the brooch I loved so much and dove like a wingless swan, meeting her end on the ugly steps of our porch.

“It’s not your fault,” they said. “Don’t blame yourself.”

They thought blame was all that mattered and no one would burn if they didn’t feel guilt.

“It’ll be alright,” they said. “You’ll be fine.”

But you can’t make a rainy day sunny by changing your perspective.

Perhaps she hadn’t seen me. Perhaps she didn’t care that I was there to begin with.

But if I wasn’t reason enough to live, it’s the same as taking her life with my own hands.

All I could think about when I saw her shell twisted and demented was how beautiful she used to be. Her and the paintings she loved so much. But if they were beautiful, then all the most beautiful things are born from the ugliest pits.

“How could this happen?” they asked. “How could she do this to herself, her family?”

People can shove you closer and closer to a cliff but still act surprised when you lose your footing and fall to your death.

She tried to touch the world with her bare hands, but she realized the world burns even when it’s not on fire. So she stopped touching anything. Because once you’ve been burned you can heal, but the skin will be tighter and more wrinkled, and you can only touch the world so many times before you can’t touch anything at all.

It is night now, and I am watching the white light from the moon purify the blackness of the lake.

I can see Mother’s face in the image of the moon, a pure heart tainted by the blackness of the world. Everyone, including me, saw her in a way that can be described with a few words: beautiful, heartless, pitiful. But there are many sides to every story and many faces to every person. You never know enough.

I should know to focus on the happiest moments we shared, but regret is far stronger than gratitude.

If there is one thing I do know, however, it is that I am not to blame for who I am. The gods may judge me, but I fear their sins are far greater and graver than my own.

All that is left now is to take Mother’s advice and make the most of this precious gift we call life, even if she didn’t know how to do the same.

After all, the fastest way to kill is through a sad heart.

#armin aot #armin arlert #aot fandom #aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #fanfics #fanfic #transwoman #lgbt art #lgbtqiia+

17 notes · View notes