#I loved his content he seemed like the nicest person </3

[harrygoeswest]

Infatuation On A Mutual Level

You and Harry are housemates and are both secretly quite fond of one another.

A/N: Woooo she’s here!!! I loved writing this one shot a lot and I really hope it shows. I haven’t had motivation to write for ages and this year I’ve really come back to it and I’m so happy. I hope you all love it as much as I do. She’s special to me. Special mention to the only person who ever wants to read for me @all-things-fic​ <3 Please come tell me what you think afterwards!! Katie x

Trigger Warnings: sexual content, brief mentions of loss, nightmares

Word Count: 18,777

~.~.~.~.~

Now

Every morning was the same.

The creak from the only bed on the first floor began the day. Then the gush of the tap in the shared bathroom. The kettle in the kitchen on the ground floor. The door closing when George left for the day. Then again 15 minutes later when Rhys did. Abbie starting the shower immediately afterwards now her boyfriend was gone. And then the only thing that ever made your skin prickle:

Harry’s door opening.

Every morning you would roll over at the sound, away from it. God forbid the man who defined ‘sex on legs’ ever pinned you with that warm, green-eyed stare first thing in the morning through the open gap of your own bedroom door. No, you might never be able to survive such a thing.

Living in a shared house was hard. Not least because you felt responsible for the place itself; owned by your single dad who would do anything to bring in what income he could, including taking more rent off his eldest child than he’d like. An argument arose regularly over your living situation but it was hard enough filling the fourth bedroom with a tenant. Living in the third was the least you felt you could do. The building was in dire need of some TLC but it wasn’t exactly an affordable fete. Sometimes the ceiling leaked on the second floor when it rained thanks to some shabby scaffolding work a few years back; the main reason why it was so hard to let the fourth bedroom. Part of you didn’t want to.

It was also hard in a house share because people were messy and you had a horrendous phobia of general mess. If you could quit your job and play full-time housekeeper you absolutely would. But your dad wouldn’t allow that. “Not in my lifetime,” He’d say with the gentlest scowl.

But the hardest part, by far, was being in such close proximity to the man who rented the bedroom across the hall. You weren’t sure why you were so terrified of him. Scarred by your original encounter with him, perhaps, but he wasn’t actually scary. He was, rather annoyingly, the nicest person in the house. Constantly aloof, yes, but still the poster boy for gentlemen everywhere.

Maybe if you spoke to him you’d learn he’s just a normal bloke, your inner voice trilled.

“Shut the fuck up.” You hissed into your pillow.

You waited for the inevitable sputter of the shower starting up again, and then rolled out of bed, threw on the clothes you’d hung up on the wardrobe door the night before - clean white shirt and grey trousers, ironed within an inch of their life - and scurried downstairs to arrange your usual to-go breakfast. Coffee in a reusable cup and a cereal bar. Hair and makeup could be fixed at work. You were always thirty minutes early anyway.

~

Harry wasn’t sure how you managed it. How every day you managed to evade him to avoid a puffy-eyed “good morning” or a potentially awkward conversation over breakfast.

As he stood in the hallway between your bedrooms towelling his hair dry in nothing but a pair of boxers and a damp t-shirt, he stared into your bedroom and marvelled yet again at how you seemed to have managed to keep it tidied to a borderline compulsive degree.

A large king bed sat against the left wall with ironed white linens and a plush sunflower yellow throw draped across the foot. One lone bedside table tucked against the right side with a tasselled muted green 60s velvet lamp and a book resting atop. A picture hung above the headboard - some vibrant canvas of abstract art. Every morning he wondered if you’d painted it yourself. Against the opposite wall stood a tall regal-looking cherrywood wardrobe next to a matching dresser with a sleek TV on top. It was the most modern thing about the room. In the window overlooking the garden a dream catcher hung in the dead centre. It was the only nicknack you seemed to have, and part of him hated that it seemed like something negative. Something to catch nightmares, to ward off evil.

Did you have bad dreams? And if so, why?

As always, the window had been opened two inches to let in fresh air. You never closed your door, not even at night. You never had clothes left out. Clutter didn’t exist in your vocabulary. Dust wasn’t permitted in your room. Or the bathroom, or kitchen, or living room, he’d deduced. You took Wednesdays off in the week and cleaned when no one else was home to bother you. He doubted the others had picked up on these things about you, but he’d noticed.

Harry had noticed a lot about you.

Especially that in the mornings, you waited until he took his bathroom time to get ready for work and leave without having to run into him. Some chaotic part of him wanted to change his routine so you’d have to. He wanted to know what you looked like straight out of bed with puffy eyes and linen marks on your cheeks and hair in disarray. The other part of him, the gentleman, told him not to. Who knew what might happen if he threw your routine off kilter.

Distress, probably?

No. He wouldn’t be having that.

Shaking his head, he wandered into his own room and shut the door behind him. One day the puzzle of you would finally form a complete picture. Today, he settled for the tethered, jumbled segments he’d managed to collect this far.

~

You stared at your phone, face a picture of bewilderment. Deciphering text messages from the housemates was starting to get increasingly difficult, no thanks to the fact that you were shit at it and everyone else seemed to excel.

Blackpool Tower

🌚 👰🏼❌🧽🍽️🔄

🌝 🙈🖕🏼

👰🏼 😕

Translation: Abbie George didn’t wash his dishes again.

Rhys Oh for fuck’s sake.

George Whoops.

You were on a roll with the emojis. It had started as a joke because George had said he hated people who only used emojis to text each other rather than actual words, so for a week the four of you had sent every text using only emojis. Then it had turned into a bet: how long could all of you go without using words, and who would be the first one to crack. You all knew that, without a doubt, Rhys would crack first, even though he was the one who’d proposed the bet in the first place. It had been two weeks and no one had cracked yet.

🍉 🤔👰🏼🥄🥄🍱🔄

👰🏼 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😠

🌝 😒🙄

🌚 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️

👑 ❌❌❌❌❌❌❌

Translation:

Harry Maybe George should cook dinner again…

George HAHAHAHAHAHAHA no.

Rhys Yeah right.

Abbie No thank you.

You Absolutely fucking not.

Why did all of you have such ridiculous headers?

Abbie and Rhys were the twin moons because that was the look they always gave each other when they thought something was cute, funny, interesting, or otherwise. They’d moved into the house as a couple and had remained in said couple for 3 years. Sharing a room was their way of saving money to buy a house. It made sense.

George was a blonde bride because he was the most outwardly gay man any of you had ever known and often acted like an utter madam. Madam was actually George’s nickname to his friends now thanks to the house’s light ribbing. He had also chosen his own emoji.

Harry was the watermelon because we were never without it thanks to a frankly concerning obsession. If there wasn’t a watermelon in the fridge, or slices, or packaged chunks, something was very wrong.

And you were the crown because you’d refused to pick an emoji and the house had affectionately bestowed the title of Tower Queen to you. You’d pretended to hate it, but they all knew you viewed it as the highest compliment.

Oh, and the group chat was called Blackpool Tower because you lived together in a tall, two-rooms-to-a-floor townhouse at the top of town. The Eiffel Tower had been suggested but George immediately pointed out that we were not a classy enough bunch to live in such a fine establishment. I’d told him to speak for himself.

The talk of food made you hungry, and it hit you like a landslide that you hadn’t had any dinner. You rolled off your bed and sent a text to Blackpool Tower, then shoved your phone away.

~

Multiple things happened at once. The shower turned on in the bathroom; your bedroom door opened with a quiet creak (which would not happen again since you went through WD40 like a bee in pollen); Harry’s phone vibrated with another text.

Blackpool Tower

👑 👩‍🍳🍝 … 🌚🍝🌝🍝🍉🍝➡️🧊 … ❌🍝👰🏼

Harry snickered.

Translation: You Making dinner. Leftovers in the fridge. None for George.

It wasn’t unusual you’d make enough food for everyone. Harry had learned that you’d picked that trait up from your dad. Sometimes no one would stop you, especially since there was never anything wrong with a meal you’d cooked. In fact, if there were a restaurant with food cooked by you, Harry would dine there every night. But he also knew that letting you cook for all the other housemates all the time wasn’t fair.

🌚 🍉➡️🍉❌🍉➡️🍉❌👑

👰🏼 🚫🚫🚫🚫

“For fuck’s sake.” He muttered.

Rhys must have been in the shower. If George or Abbie were home they’d have rugby tackled you to the floor given the chance.

Harry abandoned his phone and lurched out of his room, down the stairs to the kitchen. He nearly stacked it twice but he made it, with panting breaths to accompany him.

You turned your gaze on him with a startled look, giving him a once over. “What are you doing…?”

“Don’t you dare cook for everyone else.”

You blinked twice and then rolled your eyes. “It’s fine - I’ve got plenty.”

“It’s not fair.”

“If I don’t cook it today it’ll go off. So might as well.”

Harry looked at the produce you’d piled on the counter and back at you, then back again. “Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You bought enough for everyone.” He straightened and folded his arms across his chest.

You spluttered and scoffed for far too long. “No.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t stop me.” You scowled at him.

It was the most emotions he’d ever seen on you. If he’d known all this time that all he needed to do to get a conversation out of you was wind you up a bit, he’d have done it much sooner.

“Yes I can.”

You put a hand on your hip. Christ. “How?”

He stared at you, statuesque and cursing himself for challenging a bet he couldn’t win. You were right. How would he stop you? He wasn’t going to drag you away from the kitchen and up the stairs without your permission. Hell, he didn’t want to do anything without your permission, threats begotten. He hadn’t thought this through.

You let out a breath, a mocking one, and turned away from him and picked up a knife to start chopping. “Didn’t think so.���

“You can’t do this forever.”

Chop.

“Do what?” You challenged, refusing to look at him again.

Chop chop.

“Look after every person that comes in here because you feel like you owe people something. The world will take advantage of you. Is that what you want?”

Your shoulders visibly tensed over the words that tumbled out of his mouth. They weren’t even spoken with malice. They were soft and cautious.

CHOP.

“This feels like a very deep conversation to be having on a Tuesday evening.”

He growled, frustrated. “Stop babying everyone.”

Chopchopchop.

“If they didn’t want me to baby them they simply wouldn’t let me. And maybe I like babying people. Sometimes it’s nice to have a responsibility.”

“That’s just it, though. They’re not your responsibility.”

You smacked the knife down on the chopping board and turned to face him, an unfamiliar anger in your eyes that muddled with something else murky and grey. Hurt. “Will you just let me cook my fucking dinner in peace?”

Harry stood, tense, staring at you with his fists clenching and unclenching. Finally, he said, “Fine. But you’ve got to let me help you.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Harry.” Your head lolled back.

“Two different people, but I appreciate why you might get confused.”

You stared at him for an indecipherable length of time. Or gawked might have been a better descriptor. And then you snatched the tea towel off the side and smacked it in a whip-like movement against his arm. “Git.”

~

Two weeks later and you and Harry had begun a sort of ritual; you would cook with each other every other night. The distinct difference was that when you bought food, you bought enough for everyone. When Harry did it he only bought enough for the two of you.

You hadn’t quite figured out yet if being in this new… friendship with Harry was better or worse. Cooking together four nights a week versus blissful ignorance towards him and his attractiveness? The now near-constant proximity to him was making your head spin for stupid reasons. Namely said attractiveness.

His biceps for one. No one should be allowed arms that had the ability to make one’s mouth water. Pair his strong muscles with the litter of tattoos that were drawn down his right arm and you’d found yourself sweating even on the coldest day. A man’s body should not have such a strong effect on a person, yet here you were - a swoon personified.

Then there was his face, which was worse. Eyes mouth jaw. Those three things individually on a man were the first thing that always drew you in, but Harry had a triple threat. Seaglass green, blush pink and the perfect 100 degree angle. Not too square. And to top it all off, a wispy mop of chestnut waves atop his big head.

The perfect man?

“Aye,” Harry took the knife off you before you started chopping an onion, “thought we established that needed sharpening. A blunt knife is more dangerous than a sharp one.”

A man who cared about your wellbeing?

His bedside manner could use some work.

“Fuck off.” You whispered to your inner voice.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You shook your head, cheeks burning. Great, he probably thought you were crazy.

You silently passed Harry the stone out of the drawer. He could sharpen it if he was going to make such a big deal out of it.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, and started swiping the edge of the knife along the full length of the stone.

Chalky noises. Sharp noises. Furrowed brow. Biceps flexing. Obscenely attractive. Abort abort abort.

You busied yourself by turning on the hob and drizzling oil into a pan. Basically looking anywhere but at Harry and his arms. Sexy arms.

Sex on legs.

Your legs were wobbling. A flame of burdened heat licked its way between your thighs and you had to lean against the counter to stop from buckling. It had been a long time since a man had touched you.

Yeah. This was worse. Definitely worse. Hyper-awareness of everything going on around you wasn’t unusual, but being hyper-aware of everything Harry did was like some unfound form of torture. There was being attracted to someone and then there was whatever this situation was.

Ridiculous?

It was ridiculous, but at least you could suffer knowing that your inner voice had been wrong. Harry was not a normal bloke. He was some kind of enigma.

~

For the past couple of nights Harry had kept his door open. He’d learned that you did indeed have nightmares regularly so the dreamcatcher you kept in your bedroom window was doing little for your unconscious mind. He’d debated buying a bigger one for you but wasn’t entirely sure how appropriate that would be.

You weren’t loud. In fact, if he hadn’t kept his door open he never would’ve known, because the ajar-ness of his door had come prompted for completely different reasons - that unusual urge to see you first thing in the morning. Now two nights in a row he had been woken up by your little yelp, followed with a hissed string of curses while shifting around your bedsheets to get comfortable again. As soon as he knew you were asleep, he wasn’t too far along after you.

He still hadn’t been able to decide if cooking with you nearly every night was a good thing or a bad thing. While he never failed to enjoy himself during your bi-nightly kitchen sessions, he hated separating from you afterwards. It wasn’t enough. The persistent nearness of you for an hour or so only to be followed by a later severance was almost painful. The bedroom door being left open was just another attempt at trying to get closer to you.

He knew it was you in the bathroom because you took longer than everyone else. Not because you were using up all the hot water but because you used it as an excuse to give it a thorough clean. Being able to hear everything going on in the house was both a gift and a curse, but Harry wasn’t attuned to all the tenants. Only you.

Five minutes later the bathroom door opened, and you plodded up the two flights of stairs. He knew the way all the stairs creaked, and you were going at nothing more than a leisurely pace. He caught a glimpse of you as you passed, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. The scent of strawberries and jasmine wafted through the gap in his door after you.

Harry’s phone vibrated.

Blackpool Tower

🌝 Friends coming over tomorrow night for drinks 🍻 we’ll behave

👰🏼 You idiot

🌚 RHYS

🌝 NOOOOOOOOOO

🍉 Pay up dipshit

🌝 😭😭😭

A few minutes later Harry got a notification to say he’d received a £10 payment into his bank account.

~

Then

The cold had crept in again. Not from the weather - it was warm at night. This was a different kind of cold. The sweaty kind that kept you up at night. Medication had kept the nightmares away for some time but now you were locked in the house for the foreseeable future you couldn’t bear the idea of being constantly dimmed down by it in front of your housemates.

Last night was the first time you’d had a nightmare in close to a year and it was just as terrifying as it used to be. Some traumas just wouldn’t leave you be. You’d taken a couple of painkillers to numb your headache and they’d graciously knocked you out for another few hours and brought you right on through to 8am. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d slept that late. With everyone at home all the time now, it seemed no one wanted to get out of bed.

You had a job to do today, anyway. The room next to yours had finally been rented, so you’d been tasked with giving it a proper clean before the new tenant arrived this evening.

You did need to eat, but before that you wanted to get the window open in there to coax some fresh air in.

Hauling yourself out of bed, you meticulously tidied your room the same you did with every morning, dressed in clothes appropriate for cleaning, and took the short step across the hall to the other room.

The door was closed which was unusual. You always left the doors to the empty rooms open with a wedge so they wouldn’t get stuffy from disuse. Maybe you’d opened the window yesterday and forgot? Had the wind closed it for you?

Shrugging to yourself, you opened it anyway.

“Oh,” your eyes widened, “fuck, shit, sorry.”

Inside, collapsed face down on the bed dressed with only a sheet was a man, near-naked in only a pair of boxers. You couldn’t see much of his features bar a mop of chocolate curls, a heavily tattooed arm, and a particularly nice arse beneath his pants.

He lifted his head, complete with a gorgeous profile, and peeled open an eye. A very green, beautiful eye. He made a confused, questioning noise.

The room was full of belongings, so this must be the new tenant and not some homeless person who’d managed to sneak in without anyone realising. At least you hoped.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were moving in later today. Sorry.”

“Friday.” He managed. A sleep-coated, groggy and somewhat delirious voice. It was delicious. You wanted to taste it.

“What?”

“Friday was moving day.”

“Yes. Today.”

“No. Yesterday.”

You looked at your phone. “Christ. I’m sorry. Isolation is getting to me. You don’t care. I’m sorry. I’m interrupting your sleep. I’ll go. Sorry.”

You pulled the door closed before you could embarrass yourself any further, and then hid yourself in the bathroom out of sheer embarrassment.

If you never saw that marvellous-looking man again it would be too soon.

~

Now

Harry often thought about that first day.

Morning. Just after dawn. Early summer sun casting you in gold. Tiny shorts. Faded creaseless t-shirt. Sleepy face messy hair.

He hadn’t seen you anything of the sort since and he craved it like an addict did cocaine.

A pandemic had ruined many things for many people, and the most recent ruin back then had been Harry’s longest relationship. That’s what had brought him to a double bedroom in a shared house rather than a flat and his own fucking space. He couldn’t afford the latter.

It had been hot that night, moving into a new home in the darkness. He’d picked up the key from the owner, your dad it had turned out, and transferred his possessions from one place to another in the late night simply to avoid having to discuss his situation with people he didn’t know.

But yes, the heat is what had caused him to strip down to his underwear before passing out. The startled look on your face at the sight of him had absolutely been worth it. The sight of you had been worth it. Such a strong attraction to someone fresh after a breakup should be wildly inappropriate, but there you suddenly were, bare-legged and dangling yourself in front of him like a piece of string to a kitten. Still, the fact remained that Harry liked to think himself a gentleman. He tried to be a gentleman, and after living so close to you for so long, it didn’t take long to learn that you liked to keep to yourself. So he had done the same.

Until now, apparently.

“That housemate of yours here?”

Harry’s ears pricked up at the question like a cat’s would if it heard something interesting. He recognised the voice and hated the speaker. He always had. Today was no exception.

“Which one? I’ve got three of ‘em if we don’t include Abbie.” Rhys’s oblivious laughter filtered up the stairs to the sanctuary of the top floor.

“Well I ain’t talkin’ about the lads, am I?”

Harry shivered. He imagined if you could hear them then you would too.

“She’s here”, “Don’t bother,” came simultaneously from Rhys and Abbie. Abbie sounded almost defensive, and that pleased Harry to no end.

“Why not?”

“Because she isn’t interested.”

“Maybe you should let her decide that for herself.”

Unconsciously, Harry rose from the desk in his room and made his way across the hall to yours. The door was open, obviously.

You were sitting up with a book but you had earplugs in. Whether it was playing music or just to block out the noise from downstairs he wasn’t sure. As soon as you spotted him a small smile curved on your lips, and you pulled an earplug out. It was playing music.

Harry had never met anyone who could listen to music and read at the same time. There were surely plenty, but this put you in the Elite Tier in his head.

“What’s up?”

Footsteps began on the stairs, and Harry threw a cautionary glance over his shoulder before he slipped inside and closed the door behind him, sliding the lock across.

You were leaning forward now, a crease in your brow. “What’s going on?”

“Rhys’s friends are here.”

You blinked. “I know.”

“Yes but his idiot friends are here.”

You tipped your head. “I’m not following.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know… Gaz? The one with the teeth.”

“Oh. Right. Why not? He’s harmless, no?”

“Is he? I’m not so sure.”

Your name suddenly trilled from the floor below. “You home?”

You looked at the door as Harry moved to the side, dumbfounded. Harry shook his head at you when you began to move.

Why not? You mouthed.

Harry pretended to drink from an invisible glass and grimaced.

The idiot called your name again and knocked on the door. “Come on, come say hi.”

Harry was really scowling now. You flashed glances between him and the door multiple times.

“She’s probably asleep, mate!” Rhys hissed from outside the door. “She works early some Saturdays.”

That was not true. You’d never worked weekends, not even as a teen. It was Rhys’s smart ruse to get him to back off.

The door handle jostled. Harry suddenly looked more threatening than a mafia boss, and your jaw fell slack from shock.

“Oi,” smack, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What? Worth a shot.”

“No it fuckin’ weren’t, go downstairs.”

Some heated muttering commenced, but neither you nor Harry moved or spoke until you were satisfied they wouldn’t hear anything.

“Did he seriously just try and get in here?”

“While you were ‘sleeping’?” Harry air-quoted around the word. “Yes. He did. Hence the distrust.”

“What the fuck…”

He watched you for a moment and the look on your face said it all. You were upset, in a confused sort of way. Your mind was somewhere else, no longer in this room. Eyes glassy and breathing shallow.

Someone had tried to come into your personal space while they had the impression you were sleeping. If that had been the case there was no telling what would’ve happened. If Harry hadn’t come in you probably wouldn’t be any the wiser to Rhys’s friend’s real character, and that was what scared him. You had a tendency to put too much faith in people as just people. If someone was being nice to you that must mean that they are nice.

“What are you reading?” He asked into the silence, not only to break the quiet but to pull you out of the trance you’d been in.

“Oh, er,” you looked down at the book in your lap and turned it upwards, flashing the cover to him, “some daft romance.”

You put it aside after slotting the bookmark inside to keep your place. He smirked to himself. God forbid you dogear a page.

“Happy ending?”

You nodded, playing with your loose earbud. “Yeah. Has to be.”

“They’re my favourite.”

You gawked at him then. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Is that so shocking?”

You laughed musically. “I don’t know… I kind of assumed a guaranteed happy ending would irritate you or something.”

“Not at all. Sad endings are rubbish.”

“Aren’t they?” You patted the bed by your lap, suddenly animated. “I hate them.”

“Me too.”

“What are they for? No one wins, everyone is miserable, and someone has almost always died in the middle.”

He folded his arms, brows furrowed in a mock defence. “Now who hurt you? Tell me. Who do I need to beat up?”

“John Green.”

Harry scoffed. “He’s the worst.”

“Paper Towns? What the fuck was that all about?”

“Load of shit.”

“Exactly!”

He grinned, relaxing his posture. A commotion began downstairs, and he turned over his shoulder towards the door. Two phones dinged inside the room.

Blackpool Tower

🌝 🍻🍻➡️🌃➕👰🏼

You were being left alone. Thank God.

Harry met your gaze with a passive smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “I’ll let you get back to your reading.”

“Wait…”

He raised a single brow at you. “Yes?”

“Why don’t we watch a movie? If they’re pissing off out…”

He was both surprised and elated by your suggestion. All he’d be doing otherwise was looking for flats to move into alone and listening to some murder podcast before passing out. Friday nights were raucous in one’s late twenties.

“Two movies.” He bargained. “One we can bitch about first, and then one we like to make ourselves feel better.”

Your returning smile was prizewinning. Priceless. “And… takeaway? I really don’t want to cook.”

He clicked and pointed a finger at you. “You’ve got yourself a deal, madam.”

~

This was a new low for you. Or perhaps it was a high - you hadn’t decided yet. Using the newfound common ground over a love of happy endings off the back of the fear of a mad man trying to let himself into your room to coax Harry into a movie night with you. In your room, no less. The house was empty yet you chose to suffer the shitty WiFi signal in your tower room because your bed was more comfortable than the communal sofa in the living room on the ground floor. The cold ground floor.

Now, after a shared pizza that was delivered in record speed, you and Harry lay parallel to one another as you batted bitchy comments between one another about the infuriatingly devastating plot of Atonement.

“I wanna smash her face into a wall.”

You nearly choked on your wine, and wiped a pre-existing tear off your cheek. “Harry,”

“What?” He whined. “Every time I get to the end and she tells the real story I see red. Why get people’s hopes up like that?”

His eyes were red around the rims.

You sat forward as the credits began to roll and looked at him with a timid smile. “Opinionated, aren’t you?”

He was draped across the left side of your bed closest to the door, legs crossed at the ankle and hands tucked behind his head against the headboard. He was close to slouched, but he looked so impossibly at ease you wanted to just nestle right into him.

You could do it. Nothing is stopping you.

You repressed a growl.

“Coming from you?” He retorted, amused.

Childishly, you stuck your tongue out at him. “What’s next?”

He pursed his lips and gave a thoughtful look towards the ceiling. “Notting Hill?”

You gasped. “Fuck yes. Do you fancy dessert?”

“Always. What have you got?”

“I picked up a chocolate trifle on the way home from work.”

“That sounds dirty as fuck.”

“It is dirty as fuck.” You agreed and stood from your bed. “I picked it up on the way home with the intention of eating it all by myself, but… I’m willing to share.”

“How kind.” Harry chuckled. You felt his gaze on you leaving the room.

Two minutes later you returned with an unwrapped trifle and two spoons. Harry had already found Notting Hill on one of the many subscription sites you paid for and had it paused right at the start. He sat up straighter as you settled back down, pressed play, and then the two of you sunk into cake and gooey chocolate layered beneath sweet cream.

“Is Hugh Grant too posh?” Harry asked between mouthfuls.

“Yes, but it suits him?” Your question pondered. “Like, I couldn’t imagine him with a Scouse or Georgie accent.”

Harry’s returning laughter was delighted, magical. “This would be a very different film if he did.”

You gave a gutterall, mischievous laugh. “I would like to see it.”

Once you’d spoiled yourselves with trifle you settled back down, two parallel figures unmoving in the dim room, except to drink wine.

Harry was an ominous presence beside you. Warmth radiated off him in languid rolls, beckoning to you like an evil sea siren. Your hands fisted on your stomach, muscles tense. It really was taking everything in you not to lean into him and inhale his scent. Let it lull you to sleep like a safety blanket.

Occasionally you peeked glances at him. If he’d noticed you he never said anything, and it made you brave. After so long the film became background noise and Harry was the real star. A black t-shirt across a flat, muscular chest, steady breaths causing a rise and fall. Black jogging bottoms that rose higher up his legs with each slight movement, showing more scrumptious leg hair per inch. Big, boney, veiny feet with heinously long toes. Hair taken off his face with a tiny claw grip, a little greasy around the ears.

The overwhelming need to shove your face into his armpit finally gave motive to look away. Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts meant nothing anymore. There was a sexy man sprawled across your bed who ate your trifle and wanted to watch stupid rom-coms with you.

You fell asleep before the end.

~

Harry was sure he was dreaming. It wasn’t possible, the situation he found himself in. It was what he wanted, what he had really wanted for a while now, but the actual possibility of it coming to fruition had been next to none. Zero. Impossible.

He’d woken up in your room. That was the first tell that he was still dreaming. Then he found a warm body curled around him, and him around them in return. Your warm body. Leg draped over his thigh, arm slung across his torso, head tucked under his chin, his arms around your shoulders and inhaling your strawberry shampoo.

You were both still on top of the covers, neither able to finish the movie without passing out. He’d even noticed you had nodded off first but he didn’t want to leave you without making sure you’d lock the door behind you again in case Rhys and his idiot friends returned.

Huh. Maybe it wasn’t a dream. That was too accurate and not nearly lucid enough for an unconscious mind.

He didn’t want to move in case he stirred you, but he was desperate to see your face. Your beautiful, sleeping face. He refused to believe you’d cuddled up to him while conscious. Because it had been that way around - you were parked up on his side of the bed. His lips pricked upwards at the corners with that knowledge.

It was raining heavily outside. It fell against the window in loud smatters, the room cast in a dull grey tone. It made him want to squeeze you tighter, to keep you from any harm. He still refrained.

Eventually you woke. He could tell from the way your body tensed and your breath caught in your throat.

“Don’t freak out.” He mumbled, voice thick from lack of use.

You took in a deep, obvious breath. “No? Why not?”

“You don’t need to.”

“I think I do.”

“Explain, please.”

You hesitated, wetting your lips, and took in another deep breath. “I’ve embarrassed myself.”

“How?”

“I’ve put myself into your personal space without your permission.”

“You were unconscious.” He argued.

“Doesn’t make it any better. You should’ve run for the hills the second my foot touched your lovely hairy leg.”

Harry chuckled. He tightened his arm around you and brushed his nose through your messy hair. “Maybe I don’t mind you in my personal space. Maybe… I like it.”

“Do you?”

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps?”

He laughed again. “You’ve nothing to worry about.”

You sat up and faced him.

Gah. There you were. Puffy eyes, cracked lips, scruffy hair. His stomach did a backflip at the sight of you - a dream he had nightly. In equal measure, he missed having the warmth and weight of your body against him.

“Don’t think about it too much.” He gave you a gentle smile. “Nothing needs to be complicated.”

You remained silent, either awestruck or dumbfounded. He wasn’t sure.

He stood, reluctantly, and pinched your cheek. “You’re cute when you’re in shock.”

That sorted you out. Your face rearranged itself into a scowl, gaze following him as he left the room. He hadn’t wanted to leave, but such a conversation felt too poignant for 8 o’clock in the morning. You needed space to let your thoughts take over.

~

Cooking dinner and movie nights. That had become yours and Harry’s thing. After he’d dropped what you considered a bombshell that he didn’t mind you in his personal space you’d had the longest shower of your life - accidentally using all the hot water - and then spent the morning face down on your bed trying not to scream into your pillow.

Since then you’d been obsessively cleaning, more so than usual by way of distraction from the man living across the hall. The house was spotless. You’d even cleaned the windows at one point, outside, with help from your dad and looked at a way to fix the leaking problem in the empty bedroom.

It still didn’t stop your mind from constantly drifting back to the other morning. Waking up curled around Harry like that had been both terrifying and utterly perfect. For a man with such a hard physique he’d been incredibly comfortable. Too comfortable. Then he’d said a number of things that threw your somewhat orderly brain into complete disarray and chaos.

“You’re cute when you’re in shock.”

Harry hadn’t seemed to take his own words lightly, either. He’d been more comfortable in closer proximity with you since that morning, in the little things like light touches to your arms and back while you cooked together, or a kiss on the top of your head before you disappeared into your room for the night. Some nights you would share a bed after a movie because it was just easier - you were already settled, and you always woke up cuddled against him like a fucking creep.

“This,” Harry said as he pulled the oven door open, a waft of heat filling the cold room, “is gonna be fuckin’ banging.”

“Mhm.” You quipped, shoving a tortilla chip into some salsa, and then into your gob.

It was a Saturday night. By a freak stroke of luck, all the other housemates had gone away for the weekend - George to his parents’ and Rhys and Abbie on a weekend break to Amsterdam. So, a dinner and movie night had been a given, but you’d stuck a portable heater in the communal living room downstairs, found as many blankets as you could and piled them onto the sofa, then queued up enough movies to last all night.

Harry’s carefully crafted pizza sat atop the stove, cooked to perfection with your favourite ingredients on one half and his on the other. Your mouth watered.

You carried everything into the lounge, set it all up on the coffee table, and pressed play on your first movie of the night.

It was civil while you ate, and you were admittedly starving. To Harry’s credit the pizza was delicious and you wished it was bigger because you could’ve eaten another. You filled the hole in your stomach with tortillas and salsa instead. He graciously took all the dirty plates back into the kitchen when you were done, and returned with two bowls of strawberries, raspberries, and of course, watermelon. It was a very healthy dessert but the watermelon looked seriously out of place.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me eat your watermelon.” You joked. “Feels like a sacred honour.”

He snorted but remained silent.

Eventually, after all the food and a couple of glasses of wine, you were horizontal, your feet in Harry’s lap. He had his hands locked around your ankle after you accidentally kicked him in the thigh.

“If you were in a rom-com, who would you want to play your love interest?”

Harry pursed his lips. “Hugh Grant.”

You giggled, turning your face into the sofa cushion. “90s or current Hugh Grant?”

“90s. Current Hugh Grant is into much more sophisticated roles that I don’t care for. Even if they are generally great films.”

“I see…” you mused.

He squeezed your ankle, a smile flirting on his lips. “No, I don’t know. Who’s queen of romantic comedies? Reese Witherspoon? J-Lo?”

“Oh my God, I love J-Lo.” Your voice was a dreamy, breathy sound.

“A fine woman indeed.”

“I love it when you talk like it’s the 1800s.”

He laughed so loudly it was almost a bark. “Noted. Who would you want to play opposite?”

“Sam Claflin.”

“The king of rom-coms.”

“Exactly. Very easy on the eye.”

Harry was smirking again. His hands were moving now, smoothing up and down your leg in easy strokes.

Thank fuck you shaved, you little scruffy bear.

You mentally flicked your inner tormentor behind her ear.

The film played on and held your attention for some time. You were possibly the most relaxed you’d been for a very long time. Not one muscle in your body felt tight.

Harry’s lackadaisical caressing continued, which you were still half-conscious of. It was nice to be touched that way - you don’t think you ever had been. You didn’t panic until you realised he’d been venturing just a touch further up your leg with every stroke; until his fingers tickled your thigh.

You gasped, grabbing his wrist, wrenched yourself upright.

Heat flooded your centre, slick and warm. It was so instantaneous it took you by surprise, and your cheeks burned, the tips of your ears warm.

His eyes were on you, wider than usual. “Sorry,” he tried to speak but it only came out in a whisper.

What is wrong with you, woman? You wanted this.

The inner tormentor was right. You had wanted it, and for quite some time. But the advance of it had taken you so completely off-guard that your body had reacted before your brain did.

“Shouldn’t have done that.” Harry muttered, a furrow between his brow. He was angry with himself.

Finally you managed to shake your head. You managed to manoeuvre yourself by taking one leg - the leg he still had his hand on because you were keeping it there - off his lap and tucked it under itself. You pressed his palm flat against your skin, smoothing over each of his long fingers in turn, and met his intense gaze.

You were much closer now, faces and bodies mere inches from each other. You could feel his breath against your face, and you knew he could feel yours too from the way his eyelids fluttered with each exhale. Shiny eyelids, you noted.

He slowly closed the space to brush his nose upwards against yours, and your next exhale was much shakier.

“What are we doing?” You asked.

“Whatever you want.”

You wanted many, many things. And 99% of them involved him.

You licked your lips, and his gaze dropped to them at the action. Your stomach squirmed and your inner voice squealed with nerves.

Harry placed his other hand firmly on your hip and tugged, and you spilled over his lap, straddling him with your hands using his shoulders for balance. Another gasp fell out of you at the feeling of a certain something between your legs. A certain hard something.

“Is this okay?” He asked, both hands tentative on your thighs.

“Mhm.” You managed.

His hands spread wider, and you grew wetter, breathing heavier

He swallowed thickly. “Can I kiss you?”

All you could do was nod.

You noticed the beginning of a smile before his mouth was on yours. That mouth you’d thought of many times, at all hours, on all days of the week. And it was finally on yours, and perfect too. Soft, big, spongy. It felt like heaven against your own.

He took his time, leisurely testing the waters with you. What you would allow and what you wouldn’t. What you liked and what you didn’t.

You liked all of it.

His tongue was reverent as it eased your lips open, but thorough once you’d granted him access to you. He tasted like strawberry and watermelon, a delicious combination. A lethal combination.

His hands still smoothed over your thighs, reaching for your arse but never quite making it there. He didn’t want a repeat of the previous reaction from you.

You held onto him tightly, hands squeezing over his shoulders in an accidental but welcomed massage. You wanted to touch him everywhere but weren’t sure if he was okay with it.

“I never thought I’d be able to do this with you.” Harry’s voice was gruff, strained. He spoke against your lips.

“Neither did I.” You said breathily.

“Thought about it a lot.”

“Me too.”

He groaned into your mouth, hands rising to your hips and waist, tugging on your loose t-shirt.

You continued kissing, mouths bruising with lust, skirting around the removal of clothes. His arousal only got harder between your legs and it made you wriggle. Your wriggling caused friction, and the friction caused whimpers.

“I won’t last if you make noises like that.”

This information gave you immense satisfaction. He practically ate the smile off your face, and you wriggled again over the top of him. More whimpers, more movement. Back and forth, back and forth until you were utterly soaked inside your pyjama shorts.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed.

“Harry,” you moaned, fisting his t-shirt at the chest.

“Keep going.” He practically begged.

You gave a frustrated noise and did as he said, rolling your hips over the length of his clothed shaft. Over and over and over again. Tits began to bounce. Back began to sweat. Toes began to curl.

Harry stripped you of your top and buried his face in your chest. Kissing, licking, sucking, bruising. A canvas of vivid colour. He dragged his lips across any inch he could, leaning forward, arching you backwards, just to access more. More more more.

Rolling, dragging, rolling and dragging your dampness against his erection. It was your sole focus. You needed it - the release you hadn’t felt for some time. You were always too nervous to masturbate with only two walls and doors separating you and Harry. You needed this more than anything else.

He held onto your back with one strong arm, hand gripping your waist while his other cupped your breast, and he took your nipple into his mouth without any further hesitation. Lick, suck, lick.

You squealed at the sensation, grabbed his face and brought his mouth back to yours. Faster faster faster you moved your hips and devoured his mouth until-

“Harry!”

Heat burst through your body, crashing through every cell, corner and crevice. You were tense as you came, clinging to Harry as tightly as possible. Then, as breath left you, you fell limp against him.

Harry stroked your hair and kissed your temple. His nose drew circles on your cheek.

When you pulled back, thoughts catching up to you, you looked confused.

“What?” He asked, head tipped to one side.

“This doesn’t make sense to me.”

“What doesn’t?”

“This,” you pointed between him and you.

“Why doesn’t it?”

“Because,” you gestured at him and then dropped your hands to your lap, “have you seen you?”

“Many times.”

You gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m serious, Harry. People that look like you aren’t interested in people who look like me.”

“What a horrifically outdated cliche.” He said in a flinchingly bored tone. “For the record, I think you’re bloody gorgeous. Have done since the day I met you.”

“Why?”

“Because I do! Life is too fucking short to let society dictate who is attractive enough to date who.”

You made a face, one where your eyebrows and your mouth stretched. “Yes, but-,”

“-No buts. I fancy the pants off you and that’s all you need to know.”

“Are you sure?”

He laughed. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t have let you do what you just did if I wasn’t sure. Would I?”

“I don’t know… some men are pigs.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Look,” he took your face in his hands, “some men are indeed pigs. But I like you. A lot. And I’ve had fantasies a hell of a lot like what we just did together for a damn embarrassing amount of time. About you. That’s all you need to know. Ever since I met you, I’ve been all about you.”

You pulled your lips between your teeth and stared at his chest, unseeing. Giddiness filled your tummy and white noise flooded your ears.

Harry picked up your hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. He watched you closely as he peppered kisses to your skin. “You’re thinking too hard, but I get it.”

“I think too hard about everything.” You mumbled. “Especially when it comes to you.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I don’t know but I’ve always thought about you more than I’d like to.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’re very distracting.”

“Sounds like a compliment to me.” He said, and pecked your nose. “Shall we finish our movies and go to bed?”

Involuntarily, and as if prompted by the suggestion, you yawned. “Probably a good idea.”

Harry smiled, wrapped his arms around your middle and squeezed you tightly to his solid frame. “Let’s do it.”

~

Harry worked late a lot over the next week or so. He hated it mostly because it meant less time with you. Less conscious time, anyway. For the first few nights he’d come home to find you asleep and couldn’t bear the idea of accidentally waking you up, but after sharing a bed with you for so many nights now, it had been a hard drug to quit.

It was late now, well past midnight and you’d probably fallen asleep hours ago. But seeing you curled up and facing the window, sheets bunched up to your chin and face buried in your pillow, he couldn’t help himself.

He quietly stripped out of his clothes, save for his boxers, shut the door behind him and slid into bed beside you. He surrounded you with his warmth - arms around your middle and his face pressed between your shoulder blades. He tugged you backwards until your bodies were flush together, chest to back, and sponged a wet kiss into your shoulder.

You did rouse a little, giving out a soft, sleep-filled squeak. “Hi.”

He smiled, leaving another kiss closer to your neck. “Hi.”

“Wondered when you’d be back.” You said around a content sigh.

“And me.”

You giggled. You took a hand that clasped around your chest and brought it up to your lips. “Tried to stay awake for you but failed.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to.”

He littered more kisses against your skin, because he could just never get enough of you. “Thank you.”

“Pleasure.”

“Now go back to sleep.”

“Yes sir.”

~

“You look different.”

You frowned, meeting your sister’s scrutinous eyes between washing a saucepan clean. You were washing, she was drying, like you always did. You didn’t trust her enough to actually clean the dirty tableware. Sometimes she didn’t properly dry things either, but you’d make the most of what you could.

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno.” She shrugged. “You’ve got a kind of… air about you.”

“Right…”

“Hey,” your dad appeared, nudging your sister’s arm, “maybe she’s got a boyfriend.”

Embarrassed heat filled your body.

“No, that’s not it.” Your sister shook her head. “Anyway, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.”

“I don’t…” you didn’t know how to finish that.

Perhaps your many nights sharing a bed with Harry had been what she was talking about, but the label of boyfriend/girlfriend definitely hadn’t come up yet. You just liked each other. A lot. Add that to the fact that any night you shared a bed with him you didn’t wake up in cold sweats or choked screaming fits, it wasn’t exactly something you planned to stop doing any time soon.

“Oh my God, don’t overthink it like you do everything else. It’s a compliment. Take it.” She rolled her eyes.

“Aye, don’t be snotty.” Dad swatted your sister’s arm.

“I’m not!”

Your sister was younger than you, and for all eternity most definitely cooler. She was in school and that hadn’t changed into adulthood. It didn’t particularly bother you. Generally you got on very well, she just didn’t have a problem opening her mouth when she had an opinion.

“Anyway, don’t forget family dinner night. Next Friday?” Dad reminded you.

Ah yes. Family dinner night was not here at Dad’s house with just you and your sister. It was at the house with Dad, your sister, and all the housemates. George proclaimed it his favourite time of the month, because Dad, an ex-chef, always cooked. Harry, because of his often awkward shift work, was almost always absent.

“Okay.” You nodded.

After finishing your last dirty dish, you pulled your phone out.

Blackpool Tower

👑 ❌😃

Sometimes a text simply couldn’t be written exclusively in emojis, so you’d come up with a rule whereby if you needed to write one, you’d send a ❌😃 to alert them.

👑 Family dinner night next Friday. Be there or be square 💘

👰🏼 🤯🤩🤯🤩🤯

🌚 🎉🎉🎉

“You’re still doing the emoji thing?” Your sister asked with a narrowed gaze.

“We have another bet running to see who’ll crack first.”

“Right… will everyone come?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“That’s me asking if Harry will be there, by the way.” She said with a smirk, nudging your arm.

If you didn’t know any better you’d be hot under the collar thinking she was onto you. The mention of his name got you flustered anyway, but you did know better. As any sensible woman would, your sister had a little thing for Harry that she’d never shied away from.

“I don’t know.” You repeated, somewhat irritated.

“Well, find out! Do I need to make an effort or not, you know?”

“I mean… he doesn’t usually come. So probably not.”

“Double check. To be safe. Or give me his number.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Bore.” She scoffed, and swished away.

~

Sundays were laundry day. Harry knew this, which is why he’d never do his on the same day. Everyone in the house knew that first thing on a Sunday morning you would head down to the basement with a book and a basket full and sit there until everything had been through the tumble dryer (unless it was delicate in which case you’d air it in your window for the day).

Today, though, Harry travelled from the top of the house to the very bottom and slipped inside the utility room, closing the door behind him before any of the other housemates could hear him.

“What are you doing?” You asked, voice light with laughter.

Harry’s gaze rested on you, full of some kind of infatuation. You were sitting atop the industrial-size tumble dryer in the far corner of the room, back against the wall and knees up, book held against your thighs.

He shrugged. “Wanted to come irritate you a bit.”

“You never irritate me.”

He grinned and put himself in your personal space. He found your bookmark and placed it between the pages, and then took it away, abandoning it. “Are you sure?”

You let him manoeuvre you; pulled you forward a little and spread your knees apart. Your legs fell over the side, resting either side of his hips, and your breathing quickened. He placed one hand on your thigh and the other stroked over your cheek.

“Feel free to interrupt laundry day any time you want.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

You laughed at his mock genuine tone and brushed your fingertips against his lips. “You know, my sister has a massive thing for you.”

He stood quietly for a fraction of time, gaze assessing. “I would tease you about it but I just can’t. I kind of already guessed.”

“Did you?”

“Mhm. She’s not exactly subtle.”

“No, she’s not. She asked me for your number.”

“Did you give it to her?”

“What do you think?” You rolled your eyes.

He smirked. “You getting possessive of me?”

“Maybe. But she’s too self-absorbed to realise. She thinks I’m doing it because giving out your number willy nilly is morally wrong. Which it is. But yeah, I also just don’t want her to have it.”

His lips tightened, nose flared, eyes light - batting away a smile. “I think I like this side of you.”

You gave an uncharacteristic grunt, but your eyes never left him. “You look like a frog when you make that face.”

His face neutralised and he sucked in a breath. “You’re not the first person to tell me that.”

This visibly delighted you. “Maybe I’ll start calling you Froggy.”

“Too far.” He pinched your waist

You giggled, hands pressed against his chest. Your palms felt warm over his t-shirt and he never wanted you to take them away.

“How long left on your cycle?”

“Er…” your gaze dipped downwards to the screen on the washing machine. “Like, 20 minutes probably.”

“And then it’s going in the tumble dryer?”

“Yes… why?”

“Because,” he pecked your lips once, “I think I know,” he kissed your left cheek, “something we can do,” then your right cheek, “while we wait.”

Your gaze was curious and intense as he started sponging his lips down your front, from neck to chest to stomach. You reclined some, breathing heavy, and he pulled your legs up by the ankle and planted your feet back on top of the dryer.

“Oh,” you spoke, voice caught.

“You okay with this?” He asked hesitantly.

Even though you’d been sleeping side by side something close to 5 nights a week, your little dry humping session last weekend was as far as you’d gone in the sexual intimacy department.

You made a strangled noise. “Christ, yes.”

Grin fully spread across his face, he smoothed his palms up your thighs to your hips and tucked his fingers into the silky waistband of your pyjama bottoms.

“Can we take these off?”

You hummed an affirmed noise, and lifted your arse off the surface. In one smooth pull he had the garment off your legs and over his shoulder, probably in the same vicinity of the book he’d taken off you.

He met your gaze with a lifted brow. “Not a fan of knickers?”

“Not in my jim-jams, no.”

His smile blossomed like daffodils in spring. “That’s either the cutest or sexiest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Can we go with sexy considering what I hope you’re about to do?”

“Sure thing, cutie.”

You squealed a little at the name, but he couldn’t tell if you loved it or hated it. Regardless, he kept a firm grip on your legs and lowered his lips to your knee. In a slow, measured movement, he kissed his way up the inside of your legs with his hot, wet mouth.

Your breath was laboured as you watched him, eyes wide when he met your gaze again but so incredibly keen. To prove it, you pushed a hand through his curls and massaged his scalp, coaxing him forward.

“I’ve wanted to taste you for so fucking long.” He admitted, mouth dragging over the softest part of your thigh.

His hot breath fanned against your waiting lips and you visibly clenched.

“I’ve wanted you to, believe me.” Your voice was but a rasp.

“Yeah?” He sighed happily, left hand moving closer to your centre. He extended his thumb out, “Are you wet for me?” He pulled your lips apart, and the noise he made at the sight of you was practically carnal.

“Harry,” you whimpered, tugging on his hair.

He hummed again, face inching closer to your dripping lips. He licked between you, wetness collecting on his tongue. The taste of you was something better than he could’ve ever imagined and he growled because of it. He gripped your legs tighter, hesitant no more, and buried his face right between your soft thighs.

“Oh, God,” you whined. Your head lolled backwards and both fists found purchase in his beautiful hair, twisting and tugging.

He grunted in response to you, spurred on. He collected as much of your juice as he could, firm stroke after firm stroke of his perfectly capable tongue.

He played with your clit in a way that made you squirm and squeal, eliciting the most delectable little noises out of your hoarse throat. Harry didn’t hold back - he never had in that department. He went for it completely and utterly.

The washing machine launched into rapid spinning, filling the room with wheezing, screaming noises.

“Harry, don’t stop.” You begged, body rigid with desperate tension.

He obeyed your every word. He spread your legs further and further with his digging grip. He burrowed his face into your cunt, tongue plunging inside of you and spading inside your heat like a desperate gardener.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you panted as you lifted your head again to watch him.

His eyes were already on you, dark and hooded and filled with keen lust. His head moved with an eager precision like his mouth did. He wanted you this way. He’d wanted it for so long he couldn’t quite believe he was getting it. You were a goddess, ethereal and perfect.

The washing machine’s cycle reached its peak, vibrating harshly beside the two of you. It was deafening yet the least bit distracting.

Harry pursued his advances on your cunt relentlessly and without breath until your body went rigid and then shuddered. You screamed his name, withholding nothing, any cries drowned out by the washing machine. Your body visibly vibrated like the machine beside you, and eventually your limbs weakened to jelly.

Harry stood straight and helped you sit up again, wrapping his arms around your middle. He tucked your head into his neck and twisted his face into your hair.

“You’re right, that was incredibly sexy.” He mumbled.

He revelled in your returning laughter, the sound light and airy. You showed no shame in clinging onto him, fingers raking through the curls at the back of his neck.

“Maybe you can do it again later.” You suggested, lips sponging against the skin on his neck.

“Any time you like.”

After another minute or so you pulled away, eyes scouring his face. “You’re a mess, sir.” You commented as you wiped your thumb around his shiny mouth.

He made a wordless noise, held your wrist, and took your thumb in his mouth. “I’ll be a mess for you.”

“Perhaps I’ll be a mess for you, too.”

His brows shot up and it made you laugh. “It’s cruel to joke about that.”

“I’m not joking.”

He gave you a challenging look.

“Want me to prove it?” You offered.

Was it even worth the question? “Always.”

You grinned. “Let me put my washing in the dryer and I will.”

He took a step back and bent at the waist, arms extending like he was bowing. “M’lady.”

You hopped down from where you’d been sitting and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Sir.”

~

The kitchen was a hive. And a mess. There was shit everywhere and your anxiety was through the roof just looking at it. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight because any kitchen your dad found himself in nowadays ended up looking like a pig sty but it didn’t settle the tightness in your chest.

He moved around the room with chaotic precision while you trailed after him tidying up any unnecessary mess, and your sister sat at the dining table Rhys and George had brought up from the basement an hour ago, scrolling through her phone.

“What about him?” Your sister flashed her screen to the two of you, the next Tinder profile filling it.

Your dad leaned over and squinted. “His eyes are too far apart.”

“Ugh. Knew you were gonna say that.” She grumbled.

This was a game you played regularly. Your sister would showcase potential Tinder matches either for her or for you (which you always declined to comment on), and your dad would garner his unfiltered opinion. It was probably a big part of the reason you were both still (technically) single. No one was ever good enough. That, and you didn’t have a Tinder account. Or any dating app account, actually.

“Him?” She flashed the next profile to you both.

Cute. But…

Not Harry.

Your inner tormentor smirked.

“What’s his anthem?” Dad knew all the terminologies now for the dating app world. He liked to call Hinge ‘UnHinged’, because that’s what the suitors on there usually were.

“Um… Wonderwall.”

You gagged, and Dad scoffed. “Next.”

You carried on for a little while, joining in when you felt like it but mostly just trying to keep the kitchen at an acceptable level of clean.

Rhys, Abbie and George were upstairs getting themselves ready for dinner as if it was some kind of gala they were about to attend. They did it everytime; dinner with Dad felt like an occasion. Harry wasn’t home and you hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask if he was going to be. He left at such a weird time this morning you couldn’t figure out what shift he was on and how that would affect his ‘home time’.

“Lay the table please, poppet?” Your dad asked of your sister, because he knew it was the only task she’d willingly do.

She leapt to her feet in a dramatic flurry and made for the cutlery draw. “Have we got enough for matching sets?”

“Very unlikely.” You muttered. You hadn’t eaten dinner with matching cutlery since you moved in.

The front door opened, cold air blustering in and mixing with the heat of the kitchen. Harry stepped in, bundled up in a big coat and rucksack slung over one shoulder.

“Hope I’m not late.” He said in a gravelly voice, smile sheepish.

“Harry!” Dad greeted him with complete joy. “Wasn’t expecting you, what a nice surprise.”

Your sister looked flustered all of a sudden. She’d convinced herself he wasn’t coming. Part of you had, too.

“I’ll just change and be back down.”

“Sure, we’ve got a bit of time yet.” Dad waved him away.

You’d pretended to busy yourself, but you watched as he headed for the stairs and caught the subtle wink he gave you.

Ah shit.

“What am I going to do?” Your sister panicked. “I'm a disaster - I look hideous.”

“No you don’t.” You grumbled. She’d never looked hideous in her life.

“Can I borrow some makeup?”

It was easier to just give her what she wanted rather than fighting her on it. “Sure - what do you need?”

She listed off a bunch of makeup items, most of which sounded completely foreign so you were sure you didn’t have them. You’d just give her your entire makeup bag and let her do what she wanted.

You knocked on Harry’s door before you went back down, makeup bag in hand. He opened in just his jeans, a light straight-leg pair with gaping holes at the knees.

“Hey,” he smiled, and rested an arm against the doorframe.

“Hi… I thought you’d be working late?”

He shook his head. “I was supposed to be. Swapped my shift ‘cause I always miss family dinner.”

“I see… well, you’ve successfully panicked my sister.”

“That was my plan all along, actually.”

“Mhm, sure.” You bit away a smirk. You liked this playful side of him a lot. “If you need half an hour to mentally prepare… I’d take it.”

“Noted, thank you.”

You left him to change and made your way back downstairs. Your sister eagerly took your makeup from you and dashed to the bathroom on the first floor.

Neither she nor Harry, or anyone else for that matter, came down until it was time to sit down.

Your dad sat at the head of the table as he always did, spread laid out in front of you in the middle. You sat to your dad’s right on the corner, and your sister to the left. You knew she was going to try and save the seat on her other side for Harry, but George ended up taking it instead, which visibly irritated her. She did have a particular ‘gay man’s best friend’ vibe about her - they flocked to her like sheep. Abbie sat at the other head, Rhys on her left, and then Harry sandwiched between Rhys and you.

He squeezed your thigh under the table, and you tried to pretend like it didn’t have some obscene effect on your intimate places. You lightly kicked his shin and started piling food onto your plate.

Like some kind of mafia father, your dad went around the table and asked all of the housemates for an update on their lives. He liked to do this, and fortunately your housemates liked pleasing him. He was a good landlord, and that showed by the way they gravitated towards him. He probably wouldn’t do this sort of thing if you weren’t living there, but he had a responsibility to them as tenants as well as you, his eldest daughter.

When you were done eating you sat back in your chair and put your hands in your lap. Harry didn’t hesitate to take one in his own and link your fingers. You peeked up at him as subtly as possible, unable to fight the giddy warmth that spread through you. He didn’t meet your gaze for the sake of keeping everyone else out of your business, but he did squeeze your hand, which only made the airy, slightly delirious feeling inside of you that much stronger.

Your sister spent 20 minutes talking about herself without breath, and as self-absorbed as she was, she was harmless, really. Not to mention entertaining. You never laughed as much as you did when she had her mouth open.

“Harry, you should come to these more often.” She said to him, batting her eyelashes.

You were about to walk her and your dad to the car and send them on their way. Harry was trying his absolute hardest to escape.

He cleared his throat. “I probably should, yeah.”

“It was good having an extra nice body.”

You gave her a look, brow raised. She shrugged. “I think it’s home time, no?” You prompted, gripping her arms and nudging her away.

“Fine.” She huffed, and began walking towards the street. “Bye team!”

Most people had already disappeared to their rooms but you had to admire her spirit. Dad was already gone, eager to go to bed.

You were halfway to the car when your sister asked, “So are you gonna tell me or what?”

You met her gaze with another raised brow. “Tell you what, exactly?”

“Mate,” she swatted my arm, “I am not an idiot. I know when I’m not wanted, because it’s not often.” She could not get any more vain if she tried. “I always did wonder what I had to do to get Harry’s attention better, and today I finally figured it out. I need to be you.”

Ah. Not as ignorant as she appears, then.

You pressed your mouth closed, looking away. “Er,”

“Don’t ‘er’ me. I saw that wink he gave you when he got home, but I thought he was just trying to wind me up. And then he sat next to you, not by choice it seemed, but there was barely an inch of space between you and practically a metre between him and Rhys. Then he just didn’t stop looking at you, even though he pretended he wasn’t. Let me tell you, that boy has not learned the art of subtlety.”

She turned to you then, a searing gaze heavy. “Look, I don’t know if you’re aware of it, or if you’re already shaggin’ him and lying to me about it-,”

“-We’re not having sex.” Yet.

“Okay, fine. Whatever. Just do something about it, please. If I can’t have him you should. Don’t let a man that beautiful go to waste. You hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Good.” She huffed, and then pulled you in for a tight hug. “Fed up of seeing you alone and underselling yourself. You’re hot shit! I know it, and Harry clearly knows it.” She suddenly takes your face in her grasp. “So do something about it.”

~

You appeared in the doorway of Harry’s room around 20 minutes later, fresh-faced and in your PJs. He was reading in bed, having stolen a book out of your cupboard.

“Is he secretly in love with her?” He asked without taking his eyes off the pages, his long finger brushing the spine.

You squinted at the title as you moved closer to him. “Yes. What made you pick that one?”

“Because it’s obviously your favourite.”

“How’d you work that one out?”

“The spine is cracked beyond belief. It’s nearly falling apart.”

“I might’ve bought it from a charity shop.”

He lifted a brow. “Did you?”

“No.”

He put the book aside, focussing all of his attention on you. You’d sat down cross-legged on top of the covers, and you wore a calm yet unreadable expression. There was a hint of something in your eyes. Infatuation, maybe?

“What’s going on?”

You shook your head, smiling. “Nothing. I’m just… happy.”

“Me too.”

You remained quiet for a moment, gazing at one another in a comfortable silence. Eventually, Harry opened his arms in request of your embrace, and you gave it to him without hesitation. You settled against him, head tucked under his chin.

“I like this, Harry. Us.”

“So do I.” He nodded, pressing his lips into your hair. “A lot.”

“You make it easier.”

“Make what easier?” He asked, and then held his breath.

A beat passed. “Life. Sleeping. Consciousness. Cooking. Just… being.”

“That’s a very big compliment.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do.”

When you peered up at him, he lowered his mouth to yours for a slow and tender kiss. It wasn’t abrasive or demanding; it was perfect. Full of an understanding that neither of you expected to find in another person.

“Tell me about your nightmares.”

“I don’t have them when I’m with you.” You admitted, as if he hadn’t already worked it out. When he didn’t respond to you, you reluctantly continued. “They’re about my mum. She died in a car accident a few years ago and I dream about it sometimes.”

Harry’s heart found its way into his mouth. “You were there?”

“No. My sister was. I was with dad - it was a weekend. Me and dad at his work cooking, mum and my sister shopping in town. Were on their way back and someone just ploughed into the side of the car, driver’s side. She died on impact and my sister was in hospital for a week.”

Harry held onto you tighter, his lips against your temple. “I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“It’s okay…” you swallowed, body tensed in stillness. “I dream about that day a lot. Mostly the part where Dad broke the news to me. Seeing my sister in the hospital plugged in and drugged up. The funeral; the look on Dad’s face. I wake up crying more than screaming, usually.”

He took a deep breath, and he clung to you like you might disappear. “I’m really sorry. Sorry that happened to you and your family, and that you have to relive it most nights. That’s not fair.”

You met his gaze, cupping his cheek. “Ever since we started doing… this, I haven’t had a single one. Not even on the nights we don’t share a bed. I don’t know why, I guess my conscience has decided it’s safe with you. And I do feel safe with you.”

“Then I will stay with you every night to make sure you never have a bad dream again.” He vowed, turning his head enough to kiss your palm. “I like knowing that you feel safe with me. S’a pretty big compliment.”

“I’m full of those when it comes to you.”

His chest swelled, a helpless smile on his face. “Even when you tell me I look like a frog.”

You snorted and hid your face in his chest. “You do, though.”

“Okay, thank you.” He huffed, feigning offence, but he didn’t let you go; didn’t loosen his hold on you.

You talked late into the night until you fell asleep, wrapped around one another and bundled under his bedclothes. Having you so close and being so open gave Harry a sense of clarity. He’d had an attraction to you since the day he met you, but this was turning into something more. Feelings were now coming up to bat, and he had a pretty solid idea of where they were heading.

~

“You are filthy.”

You wiped your brow, meeting Abbie’s gaze with indifference. “I am not letting this garden turn into a jungle again like it did last year.”

“I know, but I’ve never seen you so dirty. You’re the cleanest person I know.”

“Believe me, I’ll be jumping straight in the shower once I’m done.”

It was the warmest day of spring so far, and for once it wasn’t raining, so you’d taken the opportunity the second you had it to get outside and sort the garden out. The winter had turned it into a tangled overgrown mass of green mess, and you’d been desperate to get it sorted.

Abbie had offered to help but had realised very quickly that she was out of her depth, and eventually offered moral support in lieu of the physical kind. You didn’t mind the company - it beat waiting inside for Harry to come home, alone all day.

You chopped away at the forest that had grown, turned the soil over when you found it, and potted some new plants to give it some life. By the time Harry came home your legs were covered in dirt, cuts and fresh bruises, nail beds black, hair full of dead foliage, and just downright sweaty.

Abbie had surrendered to the house to be entertained by Rhys, and George wasn’t home. He was never home much anymore, you were all under the impression he had a boyfriend.

Harry helped you to your feet where you were kneeling in the soil, eyes giving you a thorough once over. “You look…”

“Filthy. Yes, I know.”

He grinned. “Yeah, but I like it.”

“Really?”

He followed you as you collected your gardening tools and hid them in the shed tucked against the side of the house. “Absolutely. You’re so clean and put together all the time, it’s kinda nice seeing you a bit roughed up.”

You hummed out a laugh. “Interesting.”

Harry boxed you up against the wall, out of sight of any of your nosey housemates. His hips trapped yours, hands holding your sides at the ribs. Without a hint of hesitation, he pressed his mouth to yours, eagerness overpowering tenderness.

You simply let him, never one to deny the most handsome man you knew a hot and heavy kiss. You enjoyed being wanted by him. Who the fuck wouldn’t?

“I’ll let you go shower.”

“Okay.” You murmured, delirious.

He pulled away, giving your hip one last squeeze before he vanished into the house. You spent five more minutes in the garden making sure you’d tidied up after yourself, and took some pictures to send to your dad.

Your shower was longer than you’d have liked thanks to the state of you, and in turn it took you longer to clean the bathroom down than usual. You were starving by the time you got back to the top floor.

Harry was at his desk when you slipped inside his room, browsing something on his laptop.

His room and yours were polar opposites of one another. Where you hid all your belongings, made your bed and kept things as minimal as possible, Harry had more shit than necessary. A bulging wardrobe, unmade bed, things everywhere. He was a man with stuff, and lots of it. Sometimes it made you itch. But he wasn’t dirty in any capacity. It smelled of fresh linen and clean air all the time.

“Do you feel better?” He asked, closing the lid on his laptop again.

“Mm. Loads better.” You gave him a warm smile as you perched on the edge of his bed.

He rolled over to you but abandoned the chair halfway to stand up. Then he crawled over you, forcing you to lie backwards and caged you against the bed.

“You smell amazing.” He said with a voice like gravel.

You ran a hand down his front and slipped it under his t-shirt, trailing your fingertips over his chest. “Thank you,”

He lowered onto his forearm, face an inch from yours and groin against your pelvis. You inhaled sharply, noticing the very obvious stiffness coming from Harry’s midsection. His hand smoothed the length of your side, down your thigh to your knee and then back up again to your arse.

He met your mouth with a kiss, deep and hungry. Dizzying. He led and he was all over you, tongue devouring yours.

“It was a lot harder than it should’ve been to not follow you into the shower.” He admitted.

You let out a soft whine and fisted his t-shirt, pulling him flush against your chest. You wanted to feel the weight of him on you. “You should’ve.”

He returned that with a growl, and his hand on your arse gripped tighter. Your name tumbled off his lips in a husky plea, “I want you so fuckin’ bad.”

Hooking your legs around his hips and pushing his centre against yours, you gave him the silent go-ahead. You looped your arms around his shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair.

“I’m right here, and you can have me.”

Something inside Harry snapped. Any reservations about your desire for him vanished. His kisses became punishing and carnal. His hands on you a little rougher than before, than ever. Possessive.

You helped him out of his top and in turn he helped you out of yours. You scooched backwards up the bed as he drank you in. It wasn’t lost on you that this was the first time he’d seen your top half naked. Somehow, amongst all the nights of bed-sharing, you’d never been fully naked.

His eyes were dark, hooded. He looked at you like you were his last meal, and honestly you lived for it. You wanted to die under that gaze.

“You’re so sexy.”

You bit away a timid, flustered smile. Bashfulness wasn’t sexy.

He stalked you like a wild cat as you lay back. His mouth and hands descended on you again, searching and exploring every inch of you, searing hot and wet kisses into your skin.

His hands slipped into your pyjama bottoms, feeling around your arse again before he tugged them down your legs, leaving you completely stark under his burning gaze. A strangled moan fell out of him while he regarded your naked form, hands smoothing and squeezing your hips, your waist, your boobs.

“You’re so fucking soft.” He said the words like praise.

You laid your hands on his as they travelled over you, and he pushed his mouth back to yours in that same eager dance as before. He ground himself against you, hard as a rock underneath his joggers, and it was doing all sorts to your core. Your heartbeat fell down and down again to your middle, slick heat flourishing between your legs.

“Please, Harry,” you begged him, pushing his hand down.

“What do you need?” He asked, a little cruelly, as if he didn’t know exactly what you needed.

“Touch me.”

The man gargled at you. He was fucking strangled. He traced between your thighs delicately to the point it tickled, and swiped a finger easily in a stripe up your folds, wetness collecting.

“Like that?”

“Yes.” You wriggled under him, desperate for more. “More.”

He played with your clit teasingly, enjoying the way you squirmed. “More?” He asked as he slid a finger into your waiting heat.

A small cry left you. It wasn’t enough and he knew it. “More.”

“Bossy, aren’t you?”

You whined. Now you were the one being carnal. You gripped his head tightly and kept your mouth to his, tongue abrasive and lashing.

While he wound you up in the most irritating way, you found your own ways to move him on. Your feet dug into the backs of his thighs and pushed downwards at an attempt to budge his joggers off. You didn’t want to wait anymore. You wanted him in all his solid glory, right now.

“Are you trying to take my bottoms off with your feet?”

“Yes.” You grunted.

“Oh,” he gave you a dark laugh as his kisses trailed back down your front, “that’s gonna cost you.”

He licked around your belly button, the warmth of his hands vanishing from your body to push his joggers down. He gave your cunt the shortest, most mind-blowing piece of attention with his mouth, dragging noises out of you that you weren’t even aware you could make. Then he turned you over without warning, on your front, and tugged your arse up to rest against his crotch.

You gasped, excited by the somewhat aggressive nature he’d taken on. Your Harry - soft and gentle as they got - man-handling you. You peered at him over your shoulder as he produced a square foil wrapper from somewhere and ripped it open with his teeth. He watched you watching him as he rolled it down his shaft, drawing your attention to it - visually, anyway - for the first time. You had to swallow the lump in your throat.

“This what you wanted, darlin’?” He asked as he smoothed his hand over your arse, but his gaze never left you. “You want me to fill you up with my cock?”

“God yes.” You said without a hint of a waver.

“You want it like this?” He lined himself up, fisting himself at the base, and glided the head of him through your wet, parted, waiting folds.

“Yes.” You whimpered. “Please. Please please please.”

He made that noise again, his large fist grabbing your hip as he hovered at your entrance, and then he thrust himself inside you.

A ripping, searing pain had you wanting to scream so loudly you had to shove your face into the mattress to muffle it. An ache blossomed in place of the initial pain, one that was all too familiar and yet quite unfamiliar. It had been absent, like a friend who lived too far away. Now it homed itself inside of you like it belonged there. Perhaps it did, and the only way to quell it was to entertain it.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you feel good.” He hissed, his hands squeezing your hips and your bum in turn.

Harry pulled out, enough that only his head remained inside you, and then he gave another powerful thrust until he completely filled you. “So fucking good, my God.”

He started moving, in steady, sharp movements. He didn’t want slow. Hell, you didn’t want slow. You wanted fast and hot and sweaty, and that’s exactly what he gave you.

Harry started fucking into you so viciously you could feel it in every part of your body, from the jiggle of your tits to the shake of your arse to the rock of your hips. Oh, and the stretch of his cock as he buried deeper and deeper inside you. Every part of your body was aflame with need, a desire, a craving to be fucked into oblivion.

His hands were on your hips again, fingertips digging into your skin. He rocked you back and forth in time with his thrusts, not that you needed him to. You were doing that all on your own.

He grunted and hissed through every single powerful drive of his cock into your cunt, your name tumbling out of his mouth over and over again.

“Harry,” you whimpered, “harder.”

He growled and obeyed, pistoning inside of you.

“Yes, oh fuck yes.” You cried, head burrowing again.

You felt him on you, all over you then, his chest against your back, lips kissing your shoulders and his arms with a vice grip around your middle. His skin was tacky, as was yours. You were surrounded by a cloud of packed heat, like a humid summer day.

“You are…” Harry began to say, panting in your ear, and his head shook against you, “fuck, I can’t even think straight.”

You moaned, lifting up and twisting your head in search of him. He caught your chin and brought your lips to his in another deep, claiming kiss. You wanted every kiss to be like that from then on - owning, possessing, asserting. You were his and you wanted him to know it.

He gave another round of punishing thrusts before he made a winded noise, “Turn over,” he pleaded, “I want to see your face.”

A whimper fell out of your mouth when his thickness disappeared from inside you, and he helped you onto your back before he got straight back in there. He was low over you, chest on your chest, hand on the back of your thigh, and his eyes roamed your face while it contorted with pleasure.

He hooked your leg over his hip and went harder. Harder, faster, harder, faster. Your head lolled back and a string of curse words fell out of your mouth. His lips danced across your chest and you tangled your fingers in his hair to keep him there. There was nothing better than being worshipped by a mouth. Especially Harry’s mouth.

He licked and sucked over your skin until your boobs and sternum were littered with little purple spots of lust, and honestly you didn’t care. You wanted them all over you. You wanted yours all over him.

His hips never stopped moving - pushing, pushing, pushing you towards a beautiful, glorious high like a high-speed train ploughing towards a dangerous cliff edge. God, you wanted that edge and you wanted it now. You wanted to be flung off it whilst securely attached to the man currently pushing you there.

You pulled Harry’s mouth back to yours, holding your body to him as you clenched, milking him towards his end and yours. You needed it. Your head was about to explode with rampant thoughts and you needed to wash them away.

“Fuck, Harry,” you whispered, neck and shoulders spiked with heat. It radiated off you.

“I know.” He groused and bit your lower lip. “I’m fucking close. So fucking close, and I’m gonna blow if you keep doing that.”

“Please do it,” you begged, clenching again to feel his growl in your mouth, “come, Harry.”

And boy did he fucking come.

His body wracked with a shudder, movements ceasing as you wrapped yourself tightly around him. His muscles rippled beneath your fingertips while he came, oblivious to your own masterful undoing.

You calmed together, lips moving in tender kisses until your breath was caught again and your limbs were sore. You deflated when Harry abandoned you to clean himself up, and you dipped into your bedroom to do the same when you found the strength.

When he came back you snuggled up to him in his bed, between his legs with your head on his chest. His lips grazed through your hair, breathing light and content.

“I am… fucking obsessed with you.” He mumbled.

You traced your fingers over the hair and the swallows on his chest, a warmth filling you, like an acceptance. Being wanted hadn’t mattered to you until now. Until Harry.

“I… am also quite infatuated with you. And I have been for some time. Just… quietly.”

“You been sniffin’ my bed sheets while I’m at work?”

You giggled and nuzzled closer to him. “No. Not recently, anyway.”

“Not recently?”

“I’ve never sniffed your bed sheets, Harry.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

“I’m weird, but I’m not that weird.”

“But you’ve been infatuated with me for ages.”

“Not enough to go into your room and sniff your bed sheets.”

“Did you do anything a bit weird?”

“No.”

“Really? Not even… a little… you know?”

You gave him a bewildered look, and he waggled his eyebrows at you.

Haha. You totally did that, you creep.

“Maybe.” You murmured, hiding your face again.

He chuckled and held onto you tightly. “I did, too. Feeling’s always been mutual, darlin’.”

You heaved a content sigh. “I’m glad it was. I really do like this. Us.”

“Me too.”

~

Harry had been living life with a permanent spring in his step. He had you, living in the same house and sharing a bed, cooking at dinner time, shagging at night time, and just generally being wonderful, fantastic, gorgeous, brilliant you.

Tonight you were at your dad’s house with your sister so he was cooking alone, but George was in the living room watching one of those daft culinary competition programs on Channel 4, the commentary filtering out with an occasional expletive. Abbie and Rhys were out but would likely be home soon. You’d be back eventually, too, and he liked knowing that nowadays you came home to him.

Rhys and Abbie came back first. Harry had decided to join George in the living room, too intrigued by the shouty drama on Come Dine With Me to ignore it.

Abbie gasped at the TV. “This is the one!” She squealed.

“What one?” Rhys demanded. “Oh, yes!”

“What am I missing?” Harry asked, a little bewildered.

George shushed everyone with a finger to his lips. “I’ve been talking him through it but I want him to see.” He flailed a hand in the couple’s direction.

All four pairs of eyes glued to the TV, a vetted interest in the argument unfolding. The contestants from that week’s episodes were gathering in the final host's living room, bank notes spread in a circle atop a silver tray and holding up a scroll wrapped in red ribbon.

The front door of the house opened again, and in you waltzed, a baffled look on your face. Very rarely did you come home to find everyone in the living room.

Abbie squeaked your name, begging you to join before it kicked off on the telly. “Come on, quick.” She patted the space between her and Harry, conveniently.

His eyes were no longer interested in the TV drama, only in you.

“In fourth place is… me.”

“Ah,” you said in recognition of the scene on the telly as you sat down. Your arm brushed against Harry’s as you tucked your right foot under your left thigh, and caught yourself before you settled into his side like you normally would.

A chorus of patronising oohs filled the room from the contestants on the screen. The host was shaking his head.

“Wait, is this the-,”

“You won, Jane.”

Barking laughter filled the room from the housemates, including Harry, but the host didn’t stop there.

“Dear Lord, what a sad little life, Jane.”

“You’ve got that on a T-shirt!” Harry swatted George’s arm.

“Damn right I do.” He grinned. “Cultural icon.”

“You, or the bloke having an aneurysm?”

“Both.”

“... grace of a reversing dump truck.”

More squeals filled the room, as if the entire scene hadn’t been a meme for years now.

Abbie patted your shoulder. “Did you see the video of Penn Badgley doing this?”

“Obviously.”

“Wait, I wanna see.” Rhys frowned.

Episode forgotten, Abbie found the clip on her phone and showed it to everyone.

“Oh my God, I think I’m going to hear it in that voice forever now.” George muttered, a wistful look in his eyes.

“Shall we watch a movie or something?” Abbie suggested, a hopeful look in her eye. “We never do anything all together… it would be nice.”

“I’m up for that.” Rhys grinned, because why would he ever turn down one of his girlfriend’s ideas?

“Yeah, me too.” George nodded.

All eyes turned to you and Harry. You couldn’t very well say no now, it would look odd. Especially if you both did, which is what you both wanted to do. There were two perfectly good beds upstairs, one of which needed to be destroyed. That wasn’t very well going to happen if you both sat on the couch and watched a film with your housemates.

“Yeah, sure.” You finally said, because you hated the way everyone was looking at you.

“Go for it.” Harry managed, much worse at hiding his disapproval than you were.

“How are we going to decide, then? ‘Cause I don’t really watch the horror films you two are into,” George pointed between Abbie and Rhys, “and Harry probably only watches underground indie movies or something.”

Harry had no idea what gave him that impression, but the laugh that came out of your mouth - hearty, loud and delighted - was worth the assumption.

“Why don’t we all write a movie name down on a piece of paper that we’ll all like - a comedy or something - and do a raffle.”

“Okay, but who’s choosing?”

Harry rolled his eyes and waited for the inevitable to happen. George and Abbie fought for five minutes, both arguing that one of them should choose, and then the decision was given to you as the honorary house mediator. Everyone wrote their choices down on a scrap of paper and dropped them all into one of Rhys’s beanies. Then you closed your eyes, body screaming reluctance at having to be the decision-maker, and plucked a folded square out.

Your mouth lifted at the corners. “Shrek 2.”

Snacks were brought in, beers were shared out, and someone pressed play on the film where it had been queued up.

“Wait!” George screamed.

You all looked at him, bewildered by his dramatics. He’d even stood up.

“What?” Rhys gave him a baffled look.

“I wanna sit in the armchair.” George pointed to the very one Rhys sat in. “I don’t wanna sit in a couple sandwich. A third wheel is bad enough, but a fifth wheel is a disaster.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked, laughter nervous and the ultimate giveaway.

“Oh fuck off if you two think we don’t all know you’re a thing.”

Your body tensed. Harry could feel it, the way you went from soft to rigid in a split second. “What?”

“We’ve known for ages.” Abbie said with a sweet smile.

“Yeah, like, the second Harry moved in.” George rolled his eyes.

“But we haven’t been-,”

“-Maybe not the whole time, but definitely recently. I can hear the floorboards creak, you know.” George gave you an accusatory glance. Curse him living directly beneath you. “Amongst other things.”

Harry wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or whether he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. His cheeks and the tips of his ears had turned pink, and you looked like you were in shock. “Right…”

“I am slightly offended that you didn’t want us to know.” Rhys folded his arms. “What did you think was gonna happen?”

He had a point. What did you think was going to happen? Mild ribbing and inappropriate jokes? It wasn’t exactly any of their business what the two of you were doing on the top floor, but that didn’t mean you’d needed to hide everything from them. Why had you stopped yourselves from being affectionate when around them? They were your friends. You all had inside jokes and a group chat and emoji code names. They were like a second family in a way. Even though you all enjoyed your own company, you liked each other too.

“I think… for a while we didn’t really know what was happening.” Harry finally spoke, twisting in his place. “We just started hanging out and it kinda grew from there.”

“I called this on day one, by the way.” George said smugly.

“It’s true, he did.” Abbie nodded, still smiling. “Two good-looking people at the top of the house? Recipe for heaven.”

“We’re happy it finally happened. Just… don’t hide shit like that from us. We’re all friends.” George was back to scowling.

“Friends.” Rhys cooed, like Jay from The Inbetweeners.

“Anyway, now that’s all out there, can we start the film please? Or it’s gonna be my bedtime.” Abbie flailed her hand around.

The movie started, everyone settled into their places, and you managed to find a comfortable position against Harry’s side.

Even though you chatted along with conversations and laughed at the telly, Harry knew something was off. You were still tense, and you didn’t touch him like you normally would. He wanted you in his arms, not pushed awkwardly against his side. He wasn’t sure if it was because you were uncomfortable displaying affection in front of other people, but whatever it was he wanted to make it go away.

He shifted at one point in an attempt to wrap an arm around your middle, but instead you moved further away. That utterly terrified him.

As the movie credits rolled, everyone started to move, ready to get to bed for the night. Except you.

“Guys,” You said, quiet as a mouse, but everyone heard you. Because you never stopped anyone for anything, “can we all have a chat?”

Dread nestled itself into Harry’s stomach. A chat? About what? Everyone? Why did everyone have to be present? What was going on?

The housemates sat back down, if a little tentatively, gazes wary. You finally gave Harry your attention, if only fleetingly with a worried smile.

“Are you alright?” Abbie asked and pulled your hand into hers.

Harry leaned forwards.

“You’ll all be getting an email tomorrow, but I wanted to tell you in person.” You licked your lips, stare heavy on the stone floor of the living room. “Dad is selling the house.”

~

A little piece of your heart broke that evening when your dad told you his plans to sell. It was a place that you had such an odd relationship with, because while it cost a lot of money and caused a lot of financial problems, it also brought you a family you never asked for and a man you never dreamed of having.

You knew your dad would try and hold onto it as long as he possibly could because it had become your home, and he’d been in bits over dinner as he broke the news. He cried, so you cried, and then your sister cried, too. Everyone had been a mess.

“What?” George said, dumbfounded. Hell, everyone was dumbfounded.

“It’s the last thing he wanted to do, but it’s kind of burning a hole in his pocket and we can’t afford it anymore. Between the leaking second floor and dodgy plumbing there’s also woodworm and stone repairs and all sorts of other crap I don’t want to bore you with.”

“You found this out today?” Abbie asked, bottom lip trembling.

“Yeah, an hour or so ago. I’m really sorry, guys.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Rhys frowned.

Abbie crawled across the small gap between her and you and wrapped her arms around you. “We get it. It’s old, it’s a bit rickety and it needs a lot of TLC. We all know your dad gave it all the care he could afford and it’s okay that he can’t afford it anymore.”

“How long do we have to find new places?” George asked, biting his lip.

“As long as it takes to sell. Given the condition of the place it could be fuckin’ ages.” You managed a laugh.

“If your dad needs us to do anything, he just needs to let us know. And we’ll make sure it’s tidy as fuck for viewings and shit.”

“Thanks, Rhys.”

The housemates starting shifting again, collecting up their bits and leaving with softly spoken good nights. You still didn’t move, and neither did Harry. After a quiet minute or so, he slipped his hand into yours and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“What are you thinking?” He asked in a gravelly whisper.

You took a deep breath, nibbling away at your lower lip. “That I’m scared.”

“Scared?”

“Mhm.”

“Scared about what?”

You turned to face him, cataloguing every crease of worry on his handsome face. “Us. What this means for us.”

He gently cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “What do you think it means for us?”

“Well, I don’t know. I’m scared it means the end, when I don’t want it to. I’m scared that what we’ve been doing is just… convenient? And now that we have to leave it won’t be so convenient anymore and it will be over.”

“You don’t want it to be over.” It wasn’t a question.

“No. Not even a little bit. I… I don’t want a night without you ever again. I can sleep with you around. I can breathe. I need to breathe, and I can’t do that without you. And part of me hates that I need you, but I do, and the rest of me that doesn’t hate it tells me to fuck everything to the wind. Because it’s not just need, it’s also a want. I just want you around, like you have been. Presence is such a funny thing when it comes from different people, but yours… I like yours. A lot.”

Harry spoke your name in a low voice, gaze on your mouth as he smoothed his thumb across your lower lip, “I don’t want it to be over, either.” He meets your gaze again, cool, calm and collected. “I really hoped it wouldn’t be at any stage ever, least not because we have to leave the house and find another one. I’ve been living with you for three fucking years and I also don’t want to have to spend a night where you don’t live with me. Hell, it’s not even a fucking option. I know you love this place because it’s your family’s, but I don’t care where we live as long as we do it together. I’ve been looking at other places since the day I moved in, and the only reason I haven’t bothered to leave is because you kept me here, whether you meant to or not. And now we have to leave, and I’m sure as shit gonna take you with me, because I can’t live without you.”

You stared at him for a moment, and then launched into his arms, tackling him into the sofa. You peppered his face with kisses until he caught your lips and held you there, happy in the knowledge that you needed each other and that was absolutely fucking okay.

“You’re special to a lot of people, but especially to me.” Harry mumbled into your lips. “I’m selfish enough to not let you go.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Good.”

You remained in the lounge for a little while longer, wrapped up in one another, until movement began upstairs and you decided it was probably time to head upstairs to bed. Before you made it to the stairs, Rhys and George appeared in front of you. Rhys looked apprehensive and George looked irritated he’d been dragged out of his room again.

“What’s going on?” You asked, cocking your head.

“Abbie’s in the loo so I’m gonna make this real quick before she comes back.” Rhys threw a wary glance over his shoulder. “I need your help.”

~

Every morning was the same.

This week it had been, anyway. You woke up with the sunrise, wrapped in Harry’s arms, and you listened to his heartbeat and his unconscious breathing for a blissful twenty minutes before his alarm went off. Then he’d fall out of bed with a reluctant yawn, mooch his way around the room and disappear into the bathroom to get ready for work.

Upon reappearing he’d head to the kitchen to make a coffee and leave a cup of tea on your bedside table, then a kiss on your lips, and then you’d watch the man who defined ‘sex on legs’ leave your apartment from the comfiest spot in the bedroom.

Today was the same, but different. He wasn’t going to work today, and neither were you. It meant longer in bed, with enough time for sexy shenanigans, then he’d make for the bathroom, bring you tea afterwards and breakfast.

You spent the day in bed, right up until 5 o’clock when you had to get up and go out to give your keys back.

Yes, your dad had managed to sell the house. It had taken a while, but it got there. The new owners were moving in tomorrow, and you’d all arranged to meet your dad and your sister there to do a final ‘handover’.

George had moved into a studio flat in the centre of town but spent most of his nights at his boyfriend’s place. Rhys and Abbie had finally bought that house they always wanted, out of town but easy to travel into. And you and Harry also had your own place, still renting and in the city, but it was yours together, and that was all you wanted.

“Are you nervous?” Harry asked as you walked up to the front of old Blackpool Tower.

“I’m not the one that needs to be nervous.” You shrugged, even if you had been the one to help Rhys with most of the planning.

He’d been a lot of work over the past few weeks. After he initially asked for your help he spent so long searching for the damn jewellery he forgot about the rest of it. You had reminded him on many occasions that it didn’t need a big song and dance, but he insisted, because he wanted it in the house you’d all shared with her favourite people to witness it.

The garden was lit up in the early evening with fairy lights and candles. George, your sister and your dad were already at the far end waiting for Rhys and Abbie to arrive. You gave over your keys - dad had the house professionally cleaned even though you had offered, because it was too big a task for one person.

Blackpool Illuminations

Rhys We’re nearly there…

Yes, Rhys had really named the group chat for the planning committee ‘Blackpool Illuminations’.

You stood next to your sister who wrapped herself around your middle, and Harry kept hold of your free hand.

“I hope she says no.” Your sister said, and Harry snorted. “Just for a laugh.”

“I don’t think Abbie has it in her to say no to Rhys.” You mused.

Five minutes later the couple in question turned up. Abbie had no idea what was going on, obviously. She’d been told they were going for dinner and then for a walk. The walk was always supposed to end here, at the old house.

Abbie gasped at the sight before her, hands on her mouth as she moved through the garden. “What’s going on?”

Behind her, Rhys swiftly dropped to one knee and presented the ring he’d spent months agonising over. “Abbie,”

You all watched and listened as Rhys spent five minutes talking about how perfect his girl was for him. It was very typical Rhys - overboard and unnecessarily long. Most things maybe could’ve been kept for his wedding vows.

Just as your sister was about to explode from restlessness, Rhys finally asked, “Will you marry me?”

“I would’ve said yes five minutes ago.” Abbie giggled, nodding, and held her left hand out.

George and your sister started hollering, your dad was pretending not to cry, and you fell into Harry’s hold again, watching the happy couple with a warm smile.

“I hope to God they don’t ask me to help plan the actual wedding.”

Harry chuckled and pressed his lips into your temple. “I’ll make sure they don’t.”

Your sister presented herself in front of you with an assured look on her face. “When are you two getting engaged, then?”

Harry choked behind you, and you gave your sister a bewildered look. “Reel it in, please.”

“What?” She shrugged. “Being in love suits you. A wedding would really suit you.”

“A wedding isn’t something you arrange for an aesthetic, sis.” You reminded her.

“Speak for yourself, but I do recommend heavily considering it.”

After she turned away, Harry lowered his mouth to the shell of your ear. “I wouldn’t mind marrying you.”

You tightened his arms around you. “One day.” You said with a kiss to his palm.

His smile imprinted on your cheek. “One day.”

~.~.~.~.~

Thank you so v much for reading if you make it this far. It’s a long one, I know. The longest one shot I’ve actually ever done. Much love to you <3

#harry styles smut #harry styles smut imagine #harry styles smut imagines #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under the Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Domestic violence mentions, hints at child abuse, child abuse mentions violence, phantom pains

MINORS DNI: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Again, none of this is beta read. We die like the younglings Anakin snuffed in the Jedi Temple

Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @bad4amficideas

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Chapter 3:

The Victims

You sighed, checking the little egg timer in your apron pocket to see how long until the scones you were baking had left in the oven. Fifteen minutes. Ugh.

It had been a few days since Steven had come in and purchased his pillar of books. The two of you would make small talk, him thumbing through books and rambling about a subject on ancient Egypt that he knew. The moment you brought up your own obscure facts you have memorized from the things your father would read to you as a little girl, Steven’s eyes lit up and he got the biggest grin on his face, and launched himself headlong into info-dump mode. It was kinda cute, really, how excitable he got. You could tell the poor guy probably didn’t have many friends, aside from his brothers, whom he’d told you about, and a friend named Layla. You also found it endearing how his messy, bed-raggled curls would flop over his face, or how animated he’d seem when he would interrupt himself to bring up another fun fact…

But, it had been a day or two since he’d come in last. And to be honest, you kinda miss the guy. He was probably the nicest most engaging customer you had. He even admitted that he didn’t come in just for the books. He told you he liked your teas and treats, and he loved the comfortable atmosphere of your shop over a crowded cafe. But one day, he just had to ask:

“I’ve been meaning to ask…” He started, looking at the muffin in his hand.

“Hm?” You hummed as you stocked shelves.

“Are these… vegan?” He seemed hesitant to touch the muffine now, as if it were poisoned.

You giggle softly. “Yes, actually. I try to use recipes that everyone can enjoy. Vegan, gluten-free…”

“Oh! Wonderful!” He scarfed the muffin down rather quickly after that, his nose buried in the textbook on archaeology he had in his hands.

You set your phone down as you sipped your spiced tea. It was a rather cold and gloomy day today, not uncommon this late in the year, but still, it sucked. It reminded you of where you grew up in Maine, off the coast. Storms blew in all the time, you’d remember as a little girl getting up in the morning, wanting to run outside and play, just to be met with a dark and angry sky, blistering winds, and pelting rain.

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Your poor little six-year-old heart was crushed one day when a particularly bad squall blew into town, and you were trapped within the confines of your house, arms crossed, feet firmly planted as you glared out the window, lip wobbling.

How dare the weather ruin your plans for the day? You were going to play in your treehouse! Now the stupid wind was gonna blow it away! And if it did, your father would have to build another one, and that would take forever!

“Hey, there, Lil’ Bit.” Your dad said, kneeling behind you, as you stubbornly looked out the window in a seething rage. So, so angry for a little girl. You inherited your temper from your mother, surely. Though you personally never saw her mad, of course. Ever. But then again, she worked so much…

Your mom was what your dad told you was a “breadwinner”, which was a term you found dumb. You mom never entered contests and she certainly never won bread as a prize. It was so dumb! Why did adults have to use such dumb words for things?

“Hey, kiddo.” Your dad sang, leaning forward from where he was crouched to put his chin on your tiny shoulder.

“No, daddy, ‘m angy.” You mumbled, trying to shrug him off as lightning flashed in the distance.

He chuckled, his voice warm, much like your favorite pair of fuzzy socks after they were just taken out of the dryer. “Come on, princess. It’ll pass. They always do.”

“But why did it have t’ do it today!” You whined, not budging.

“Dunno, kid. The sky just felt like dumping buckets, I guess.” He said, humoring you.

“Daddy...” You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Clouds don’t use buckets!”

“Sure they do!” He grinned, waggling his eyebrows at you. “You just never see em!”

“You’re silly.” You scoff.

“You’re silly!” Your dad laughed, scooping you up and spinning you around, finally getting a smile out of you as you shriek in laughter.

He tucked you against his chest and kissed you on your forehead. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you some sna–”

His eyes went wide and he gasped when you writhed, crying out and wincing like you’d just been struck.

“Babygirl, what’s wrong?” He asked, hurriedly sitting you on the couch as you curled in on yourself. He could see the welts start to peek out from beneath the sleeves of your little pink shirt.

It was happening again.

The pain in his heart gripped him like ice, knowing he couldn’t do anything to ease the pain his daughter was feeling. His poor, poor baby girl, whose soulmate was constantly being inflicted with whatever horrors they faced with.

He would curse it, sometimes. Your mark. Your bond. You were already enduring abuse that wasn’t directed at you. Or maybe it was in a way… Given that it was happening to your other half. Who you would one day meet. Maybe things will be better, when you had. Maybe.

But one thing was for sure, he hated whomever was inflicting those injuries on your soulmate more. Not only were they hurting your soulmate, they were hurting you. He’d imagined that you were close in age. If so, who the hell would abuse a child in such a way? The concept was completely foreign to him.

He rubbed your back, murmuring sweet and loving things to you.

He noticed something odd about your mark about a few years ago, right when the welts and bruises started to show and you would recoil in phantom pain... There was a new addition to your mark. At first it was one crescent moon. But then one became two, and two became three.

Right now, the bottom right moon was full.

He wasn’t sure what it meant… But he noticed your crying slow to soft little hiccups and sniffles as you sit up, rubbing your eyes.

He rested his forehead against yours. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart. I promise.”

“I jus’ wanna know why it hurts so much, daddy.” You sniffle.

“Trust me, I know. Me and your mom are similar. I remember when we were kids, before we met… She fell from a tree and broke her leg. Man, it hurt so bad…”

You looked up at him, your big beautiful eyes glistened with tears. Your mother’s eyes. Little gems of hers that you would always have.

“Really?” You peeped.

“Really.” He stood and walked over to the bookshelf above the living room fireplace, and plucked a book off of it. He turned back to you and sat next to you, pulling you into his lap and kissing the top of your head.

“This book came from your great auntie over in London. You remember her, yeah?” He hummed.

Your fingers grazed the cover, old and worn, obviously well-read and well-loved. It had a picture of a woman with wings and a pretty dress on it. You couldn’t read the other words on it just yet, you were still learning how to read the bigger ones.

“Want me to read you some of the stories in it?” He inquired.

“Uh-huh.” You nod.

Your father flipped the pages open, and hummed again, softer.

“Now, let’s start with the tale of Isis and the Seven Scorpions…”

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You jumped, almost dropping the egg timer you had in your hand when your shop’s door dinged and swung open. A frantic young woman rushed inside, her sunken and baggy eyes looking at you, wide with fright.

You skipped the usual welcome and regarded her with a confused expression.

“I… Can I help you–”

“Please, I just need to–to hide!” She said, rushing over to you and gripping your hand, pulling you behind her and further into the winding shelves that made up your bookstore.

“Hey, Hey.” You say, putting your hands on her shoulders. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“My–my boyfriend. He… He’s… I messed up and burned lunch and…” She looked to the side trying to check if he somehow didn’t materialize out of thin air over her shoulder when she wasn’t looking; and when she did… you saw them.

The already darkening bruises on her delicate throat.

Immediately you went into protector mode. You gently urge her towards the door leading to the stairwell that went up to your flat above.

“You hide up there, and call 999, okay?” You say to her. “You can stay here until the police arrive. If it makes you feel safer, there’s a deadbolt to the door up there. If your boyfriend comes in I’ll act like I didn’t see anything.”

You rush to the oven when you hear the timer go off, and pull out the scones (after slipping on your mitts), when the bell to your store dings.

You curse under your breath and say to the girl quietly. “Stay quiet, honey. I’ll be up when the police get here.”

You carefully slip the tasty treats onto a plastic tray and toss the pan into the sink with a clang; instantly regretting it when the young woman flinched and curled into herself, her arms instinctively reaching to cover her head.

You muttered and apology and balanced the pan on your hand as you hastily make your way down the stairs, to see whomever was incessantly dinging your “ring me!” button at the register.

When you finally break free of the labyrinthine bookshelves, you spot a rather large and angry looking man.

This had to be the boyfriend.

“Hello, one moment, please.” You say tersely, sliding the scones into the small display case showcasing the fresh treats of the day.

“Oi, you seen somebody come in here?” He demanded gruffly.

You take another visual sweep of his appearance. Rather big build, probably abuses the gym too much. He looks like he exclusively dines on protein shakes more than food… He could be trouble, if he got violent. The only upside is that you knew the layout of your little shop by heart, he didn’t. You really wished you had a gun under the counter, right about now.

You made a mental note to sign up for the courses and get the certificate from the police..

“Other than you, no, you’d be my first customer of the day.” You force the cheer into your tone as you bring a box of books and begin to half-assedly place them, hoping to look normal.

“Ain’t no fuckin’ customer.” He growled. “Don’ want no books.”

“Well, I also offer a variety of coffees, teas, and snacks–”

“I ain’t no fuckin’ customer!” He barked, getting in your face.

You could smell the alcohol on his breath. That explains the slurred speech.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask that you please back away, you’re a little too close…” You say, your hands up in a submissive gesture, hoping to appear as non-threatening as possible.

"Does it look like I giv' a fuck? Ya fuckin' muppet?" He hissed at you, his eyes dilated and glassy.

"Look, I don't want to cause trouble, but–"

He seized your arm and gripped it painfully tight, you could feel the crunch of your radiocarpal joint being squeezed under his rough and indelicate fingers. "Did ya hear me, ya fuckin' cunt? I'm lookin' for my girl, I know she came in here! Don't lie t' me!"

"Sir, people come into my store all the time, and it's not really my business why unless they buy a book or a muffin. Let me go!" You retort, trying to pry his fingers from around you with your free hand.

"Shut th' fuck up!" He snarled, pushing you back against the bookshelf so hard the back of your head cracked on one of the shelves. Great, another pain.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" An unmistakably American accent called from the door of your shop.

How had you missed the bell? How did you not notice the sound of the door opening?

The drunken man holding you turned, still gripping you. "Great, another fuckin' yank? Can't you fucks stick to ya own country?"

You felt your pulse quicken, and your eyes widened at the man who stood in the door; dark, honey-tinted eyes aflame with anger. But the man the eyes belonged to?

Dead ringer for Steven. But he carried himself entirely differently, he even had his hair styled back in a different way. He wore a white hoodie, faded blue jeans, and some steel-toe boots.

"None o' ya fuckin' busniess, you dick." The man sneered, looking back down at you.

"It is if you're hurting the lady." He said gruffly.

"Oi, you got a listening problem?"

The man turned again, but he was met with the knuckles of the American man who just came to your aid; straight to his jaw, knocking him back against a cart you had full of discount books, sending them to the floor with a clatter.

The man cracked his knuckles, before gently grabbing you by the shoulder and moving you behind him for cover.

At this distance you could just barely catch a whiff of sandalwood and some kind of spice. A hint of aftershave wafted into your senses in accompany.

"You fuckin' dick!" The man grunted, shaking his head in an attempt to reorient his brain.

"You need a better repertoire of insults, buddy. Or stop hitting the sauce." The other man sneered. "Probably both."

The drunk lunged at him, and this guy was one step ahead, intercepting him by grabbing his wrists.

The crunch of bone was enough to make you squeeze your eyes shut, and when you dared to peek again, the drunk was clutching at his now bleeding and broken nose. Your savior on the other hand?

Barely broke a sweat. He headbutted him with the hardest part of his head, crunching bone and cartilage.

"Stay down, asshole." He growled. You spun on your heels to look at the door when two clothed officers came in, hands on their pepper spray.

"Everybody just calm down!" One of them shouted.

Ugh. Now you had a headache…

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By the time the officers, the battered girl, and her boyfriend all left, it was just you and your knight in shining hoodie. Who looked way too much like Steven.

You sat him down at one of the reading nooks and shakily wring your hands out to calm down. "Uh… Yeah, so…" You try.

"My name's Marc. Marc Spector." He said. "You, uh… met my brother, already. Steven."

You gasp. "The heathen!"

He choked out a startled laugh. "What?"

"Oh! Uhhhhhh…" You clear your throat awkwardly trying to change the subject. "You and Steven have different last names!"

Marc huffed through his nose. "It's uh… a long story."

"What, were you guys separated at birth or something? He speaks with a typical Londoner accent, you're full-blown American." You smile.

"Or something." Marc murmured, unable to meet your eyes.

"God, and Steven and I joked about my life being a setup for a book." You giggle softly. "You guys sound like you're straight out of a Dickens novel!"

Marc kind of squirmed in his seat. "Yeah…"

"So, uh… what brings you here today? From what Steven told me, you don't exactly pick up books all the time like he does." You say to him, tilting his head.

Marc wiped at his face with a groan, "Ugh. Don't get me started on Steven's books! He has too goddamn many–"

"Ah!" You say, flicking a stray curl. You weren't sure why your brain told you that was okay to do. It just felt right. The look he gave you afterwards sent your heart leaping into your throat.

Raw confusion, maybe some surprise?

"Uh… No talking like that is allowed in my store, there, pal…" You stammer out. "So… why are you here?"

"Steven said you had coffee. Didn't feel like dealing with a lot of people today." He kind of mumbled.

"Oh, I get that." You sighed softly in sympathy. Already, Marc struck you as the kinda guy who didn't like dealing with people unless he had to.

And honestly, you kinda felt for the guy. Something about him made your heart twinge in a funny little way.

"Tell you what, as a thanks for helping take care of that asshat, coffee is on the house, and I'll even give you a cup of my personal blend instead of the stuff on the menu."

"Uh, you don't have to–"

"Ah!" You say, wagging a finger at him as you walk away. "None of that in my store!"

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You sat and talked for a while. Hours, really. Whereas Steven loved to babble about things he knew, and was rather energetic about it, Marc was… reserved. Shy, almost. He was content to let you lead the conversations, piping in here or there on a subject.

He told you some about his time in the Marines, and how something happened to him mentally that got him discharged early. He was vague about what he did after that, but he mentioned moving to London after he and his wife ran into problems.

At first you almost asked a rather impertinent question, "Why did you guys split up?" But decided that was far too rude of a thing to ask. Even if you wondered why he married outside of a soulmate bond. Even if a marriage like that wasn't entirely uncommon…

"I'm sorry." You say softly, sitting across from him, your coffee long finished, the mug cold. "You've been through… a lot..."

"Yeah, you can certainly say that." Marc sighed, turning his mug in his hands for probably the hundredth time.

"So… Thanks again. For y'know. Helping me." You smile.

"No problem, easy enough to deal with a drunk." He shrugged. "And he looked like he was about to hurt you, so I had to do... something."

"Well I'm glad you did that something." You chuckle.

Marc cleared his throat and smiled back, a soft thing on his face, really. But it was nice to see.

He moved to stand, "I should, ah… go. Thanks for the coffee." He reached out to hand you a few notes from his wallet, and you declined, gathering the mugs to go wash them.

"Nope, I already said it was on the house." You tell him.

"But–"

"No buts!" You called out as you vanished into the expanse of bookshelves.

When you came back, you noticed that, stacked neatly on the counter, was a bundle of notes, your egg timer sitting neatly atop it, with a post-it note simply saying:

"Tell me your life story next time. Thanks. -Marc."

Chapter 4: Link

#A Rose Under the Moon #moon knight x you #moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #soulmate au

[autumnteawithfriends]

I despise CherriSnake and here’s why

Before we begin, something I want to clarify is that I don’t care if you ship or don’t ship CherriSnake. You do you, I’m not here to stop you and neither is this post. I just personally wanted to make a post on why I absolutely hate this ship.

Also, props to @cagneyblooms for helping me come up with some of the points.

REASON#1 - They don’t really work as partners for me

This is more of a personal reason to me, but CherriSnake is one of those ships to me where it feels like they absolutely can’t work out as a couple. Since the pilot is somewhat treated as canon in the show, they make no sense considering the fact that Pentious and Cherri absolutely despised eachother in the pilot. Both of them were locked in a turf war against one another and that hatred was mutual. Yet the show does a complete 180 from that and makes Pentious have this crush on Cherri out of nowhere, likely because Vivziepop wanted a straight HH ship and instead of deciding to just make a different character to pair Pentious/Cherri with or just make a entirely new ship. She just looked at the fandom, saw that CherriSnake was somewhat popular, and decided to make it canon last minute. CherriSnake during 2019-2023 just felt like a joke ship to me or something shippers who ship every character together would make. I mean, CherriSnake practically falls into a TON of popular tropes (Enemies/Rivals to Lovers, Angel x Demon, Girlboss x Goofball, probably way more) I’m not dissing this tropes, I even do these tropes myself with OC x Canon pairings I make. It’s just that CherriSnake felt rushed and last minute.

REASON#2 - They lack chemistry and actual interaction

To be fair, I partially put the blame on both Amazon Prime and Vivziepop for this. Amazon Prime because they only gave HH 8 episodes to really show its story, but I also blame Vivziepop for this. Because not only did she waste whatever time she had with those 8 episodes by showing us useless filler with the Vees and The Overlords instead of actually delving into the main sinners and why they’re in Hell. But she also crammed WAY too much content into 8 episodes instead of giving HH proper pacing.

But onto CherriSnake chemistry, Cherri and Pentious’s regular interactions pretty much prove to me that Vivziepop understands nothing about how actual relationships work and just make their dynamic one sided on Pentious’s part. Let’s be honest, Cherri does not reciprocate Pentious in the slightest considering the stuff she does to him. The shitty two dicks joke aside, not only was the kiss between her and Pentious forced because it was only a “heat of the moment” deal, but she also did this.

(Source: TV Tropes under Sir Pentious’s page)

I get that Cherri isn’t exactly a nicest sinner demon in Hazbin, but this combined with the two dicks joke and the kiss she and Pentious share makes her seem incredibly shallow (which she is considering how rushed this ship is in general) If Hazbin Hotel was like Bojack Horseman like some people claim it is, either these would happen.

A. Cherri realizes she was shallow for only wanting Pentious for his two dicks and never really considered how he felt, either leading Cherri and Pentious staying friends or Cherri breaking it off with him.

B. Pentious calls out Cherri for being shallow, thus giving both him and Cherri some development.

C. Cherri realizes that she only liked the kiss because it was less of them being in love and more of a heat of the moment adrenaline rush.

Or literally anything else. Cherri and Pentious never have a genuine interaction that either doesn’t make Cherri seem incredibly shallow or isn’t comedic.

As for the final reason, it may be a bit of a stretch, but I still think it counts.

REASON#3 - It’s borderline pedophillia

Again, props to @cagneyblooms for making me realize this point. Also, because pedophillia is very much a serious topic + I don’t want to throw the term around. I’ll be providing more evidence than the other two.

I’m not kidding, CherriSnake (atleast to me) becomes borderline pedophillic once you think about the lore Vivziepop spoon feeds us through her livestreams instead of diving deep into it. According to Vivziepop, Sir Pentious was in his mid 40s (best speculated to be 45) when he died while Cherri died in her early 20s, already raising a few eyebrows.

Yeah, this is already gross enough, but something that makes the age gap worse is the difference timeframe in which these two died in. Sir Pentious was confirmed to have died in 1888 London and Cherri Bomb died somewhere in the 80s. So not only was Pentious A GROWN ASS MAN WHO ALREADY HAD LIVED AND DIED BEFORE CHERRI WAS BORN, CHERRI WAS LIKELY BARELY A ADULT SINCE SHE WAS EITHER IN HER EARLY 20s AT BEST OR BARELY IN HER 20s AT WORST! This is also mentioning that Sir Pentious is also technically older than Cherri in Hell because depending on what exact year Cherri died in, Sir Pentious had either already spent nearly 100 years in Hell or he actually spent 100 years exactly in Hell when Cherri died. The only thing that really softens blow is that Pentious got a crush on her when they were both in Hell, meaning Cherri was technically still in her 20s in a way.

To conclude this, I hate CherriSnake. It’s one of the few Canon ships I actually despise since I either don’t care for Canon ships or I actually ship Canon couples as well. Even if Vivziepop wasn’t a terrible person, she’s still a really fucking awful writer who can’t stick to anything at all and is more concerned about her shitty Stoltliz soap opera rather than writing a good story. Writers like Vivziepop are the reason why research makes a good story.

#anti hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critique #anti vivziepop #vivziepop criticism #vivziepop critical #sir pentious hazbin hotel #cherri bomb #anti cherrisnake

[ressonancee]

THEN I WILL BLOSSOM FOR YOU

Seokmin can't really explain why, sure you both are attractive, you guys make a cute couple, and you guys have chemistry, but none of that explains why Seokmin feels so fucking curious, it doesn't explain why he feels like he is trained to watch you two from afar.

✦ LEE SEOKMIN, YOON JEONGHAN - f!reader ✦ genre: smut (minors don't interact) ✦ word count: 5.2k ✦ title inspired by Carly Ra Jepsen - No drug like me

✦ Thea note: My mind is a vast place and sometimes conjures images that I think oh nice everybody needs to hear about this! and you guys can argue, and can make a 3 pages letter but in my head seokmin is jeonghan's favorite - and jeonghan knows that love is sharing so 🫶also @userelv hope you enjoy this

✦ Content warning: threesome, slight degradation (?), please everyone be safe and sound use condoms!!!, cum eating, penis in vagina sex, I feel like we need a warning like Jeonghan is crazy kind of thing, also mention of hell (i was raised catholic we see a wrongdoing we think of hell), also there is little seokmin x jeonghan action so there is that, also seokmin is horny for them both so just to make that clear, so yeah homoerotic action and subtext just to make it clear

Seokmin is a nice guy.

Seokmin is known for being a nice guy. And Seokmin likes being a nice guy, he actually thrives at being nice. The nicest. 

He likes being well-loved, nicely treated, being told he is the nicest person ever. He loves it, and he works himself to be even nicer.

So when Jeonghan shows up with a girlfriend, Seokmin does what he is best known for: he is nice, the fucking nicest person ever.

But why he feels so fucked up in the head when he is just being nice?

Seokmin feels fucked up in the head every time you go near him, and it is even worse when Jeonghan is right there at your side. Seokmin feels fucked up when you guys go to a nice club, nice enough for idols to go and not have pics all over the internet. And thanks god for that because half of the night Jeonghan's hands are under your skirt, and his lips are on your neck. And Seokmin feels fucked up because somehow he can't take his eyes off you both. Seokmin watches the way Jeonghan's hands are on your hips, or hiding beneath your clothes. Seokmin watches the way you claw onto Jeonghan's arms, and he also watches when you get a little tipsy and it's your lips on Jeonghan's jaw, leaving an open-mouthed kiss on it, tugging Jeonghan's hair and making your boyfriend give you more.

Seokmin feels fucked up in the head because you and Jeonghan are in a two years relationship, and his eyes still are glued to you two when you both are together. Seokmin can't really explain why, sure you both are attractive, you guys make a cute couple, and you guys have chemistry, but none of that explains why Seokmin feels so fucking curious, it doesn't explain why he feels like he is trained to watch you two from afar.

So when Jeonghan calls Seokmin and asks if he wants to come over eat something and watch a movie Seokmin does what he does best; he is a fucking nice guy and he says yes, dreading his answer when Jeonghan hangs up. And when time comes Seokmin does what he also has been doing so diligently, he watches how you both lay on the couch, you between Jeonghan's legs, how Jeonghan hands don't stop caressing you for a minute, and how you whine softly, Seokmin's ears almost not catching the sound.

And Seokmin thinks Jeonghan knows. To Jeonghan, Seokmin has always been an open book, a transparent vase, easy to read, easy to decode. Jeonghan must know, right? But if Jeonghan knows why Seokmin is the only one always invited? Why Jeonghan keeps calling him and asking if he is free? Why the hell Jeonghan calls Seokmin and ask if he wants to go to the beach? Why the hell would Jeonghan ask if Seokmin want to joy in a villa with them? That seems like the nicest trip to a couple - beaches, bikinis, cocktails, and a nice hotel bed, and none of that should include Seokmin. 

So when Seokmin says "Sure hyung" he doesn't think he is fucked up in the head, he knows that he is clinically and undoubtedly fucked up in the head. Being a nice guy fucked him up.

When Seokmin sits in the backseat he knows for a fact that he is dumb and he almost opens the door and throws himself in ongoing traffic when he remembers that you guys planned a four days trip.

"It's going to be so fun!" You say excitedly and turning to give Seokmin a big smile, and he can see how Jeonghan's hand rest on your thigh, and he can see how you are already using a bikini because he can see the way it's tied around your neck.

"Sure," Seokmin tries to match your excitement because he can't really say how this is the worst idea ever "I hope it doesn't rain."

"It won't we checked the weather," Jeonghan says looking at Seokmin through the rearview mirror.

Seokmin thinks that trip is exactly what his personal hell looks like. Hell crafted just for him, like a special present handed by Satan. Because he always feels Jeonghan searching for him in the rearview mirror, and Seokmin feels like he can get caught.

He can actually feel Jeonghan's eyes on him every time Seokmin looks at his hand on your leg. And Seokmin doesn't really know why, but he thinks he is obsessed. Every time Jeonghan caresses your skin Seokmin feels a tug in his chest. And in a way, Seokmin can't make himself look out the car window and enjoy the scenery. He can't bring himself to pick up his phone and just find something to keep him entertained.

It's not like he didn't question himself in the begging. He did, but he still didn't know why. He asked if it was jealousy, he asked himself if it was curiosity. He asked himself if it was because of you, or because of Jeonghan. Seokmin was about to check the boxes with the option all of the above.

Seokmin even spent an entire night thinking about if he was jealous of the relationship, of the idea of it. But he ended up jerking off because he replayed every single intricate memory that was stored in his brain. And Seokmin could feel them on the tip of his tongue, every time he replayed a touch, a soft spoken word, a smile or a glance.

He can't pinpoint really. When he realizes he is knee-deep in the water and he continues to enter the sea even tho the waves get stronger and stronger.

The car ride itself is not that awful. In Seokmin's mind, it was worse, like him popping a boner in the backseat every time Jeonghan and you touched, but it's not that bad, and he thinks that's because you sleep 30 minutes in. Seokmin thinks he knows Jeonghan enough, he knows that Jeonghan is mischievous, and he knows Jeonghan likes to banter. But Seokmin also knows Jeonghan enough to know that Jeonghan gives exactly what you can take, not a single drop more of what you can handle. And Seokmin knows that's why Jeonghan just enjoys the music and focuses on the drive, because if you are sleeping that's no fun - Jeonghan needs someone who can actually squirm and put up a fight, even tho everyone knows Jeonghan will win at the end.

And that's why Seokmin is sure that Jeonghan must know.

When Seokmin opens up the door to his room he realizes he can actually breathe and relax. The villa is cozy, with a nice private pool, and houses that look like little bungalows, and is so close to the beach that Seokmin can actually smell the sea. 

But Seokmin's peace and quiet don't actually last that much, with Jeonghan knocking on the door and urging him to change clothes and go to the pool. Jeonghan excitedly said to Seokmin that he basically ordered the whole drinks menu.

Seokmin thinks he is in the bad place. Everything is beautiful, and amazing actually, but the only thing he can think of is that he is sure he is going to hell. He is going to spend eternity in the flames. He is going to see the devil face to face because the way he can see your nipples on the fabric of that excuse you call a bikini makes his mouth water and his dick hard really. 

If that wasn't enough for him to earn a ticket to hell the fact that your boyfriend is right there seated on Seokmin's side with a drink in his hand seals the deal.

That makes Seokmin feels fucked up in the head, makes Seokmin feels dirty and filthy because even if Jeonghan is right there, Seokmin's eyes are on your body every step you take until you seat right there - arms reach but on Jeonghan's side.

"The water is pretty good you guys should give it a go." You say twisting your hair in the hope the droplets don't get everywhere before picking up a drink, and Seokmin can actually see the water droplets travel on your skin.

"I'm okay enjoy the view really," Jeonghan says voice lewd, and Jesus Seokmin is going to hell for sure.

"Jeonghan-" You scold giving your boyfriend a little shove and the only thing Seokmin can focus on is how Jeonghan's smile opens up and how his hands rest on your waist, pushing your body against his.

"What? Didn't even say anything" Jeonghan replies.

"Anyway, we should ignore him," you say to Seokmin, and he thinks his life would be easier if he could ignore the way that Jeonghan's hand is resting on your hips, against your bikini bottom. "Come on, you should have fun with me and leave him alone, he would probably die in five minutes"

And Seokmin knows that's not what you mean. You are talking about the pool, he is sure of it, but Seokmin's mind is big and vast, and he can think of every possibility of what having fun mean. And the way you say it, the way your voice rings against Seokmin's ear doesn't help Seokmin's states really.

"Don't be mean," Jeonghan says giving your shoulder a kiss but eyes focused on Seokmin, "Seokmin is having a hard time already."

And it's all so fucked up really that Seokmin don't even feel entitled to feel mad, to get angry, to answer Jeonghan and say that playing with his feeling like that Is wrong. Because to be honest, Seokmin is in no position to do so. Seokmin is always there, of course, because they invite him to be there, but again he could've said no. Every time they go out Seokmin is like the third piece of the puzzle. Seokmin is always too close when hands wander, or when lips crash, he lost count of it really. 

And when Jeonghan says things like that Seokmin can't really go against it, because yes he is having a hard time, he is always going against his urge to get dick hard when the topic is his friend and his girlfriend. So yeah, Seokmin is having a hard time because every time he sees Jeonghan's hand against your skin he doesn't actually feel the need to break that contact, to tear you two apart, but he feels the urge to put his hand on top - to be in this together. 

This is even more fucked up because Seokmin knows that maybe the voyeur experience is allowed, but to take part in it is another whole story.

So when Jeonghan is by his side after taking a shower and fixing himself up for dinner Seokmin feels like he is one step away from having convulsions, two steps of just dying right there. 

"What?" He asks as if he didn't hear, or didn't understand, but in reality, he heard Jeonghan just fine, but his mouth is dry and his heart skipped a beat.

"I mean," Jeonghan blocked his phone and gave Seokmin his full attention. "I think I am not wrong right? You are into my girlfriend or am I reading all wrong?"

"Hyung," Seokmin tries to start already feeling like he fucked up everything. Head falling and hand gripping the nearest furniture, grip so strong his digits are white. "It's not really-"

"I mean," Jeonghan cuts him and Seokmin doesn't even feel angry, he feels relieved really because what the fuck he was going to say? "for us it's not a problem really, I am not the jealous type, and if you actually say that you are not into her and I have to delivery that news to her she is probably gonna cry." 

"What?" Is the only thing Seokmin can say really. Because the words leaving Jeonghan's mouth are altering Seokmin's brain. And he thinks for a second Jeonghan is trying to mess with him, because that would be something that Jeonghan could do, but when Seokmin thinks and ponders he doesn't see Jeonghan as a mean person. Scratch that, Seokmin doesn't see Jeonghan as downright sadistic.

"Yeah, I'm telling you, why aren't you believing in me? Did I have lied to you?" Jeonghan says, voice still low and taking a step to get closer, and the only thing Seokmin can think is how he wants to just run away. "Oh wait. yeah probably, but like not in a serious setting involving you fucking my girlfriend so-" Jeonghan continues but Seokmin is so on his own head, in a way he feels so aware of everything, the way he finds weird how his eyes are blinking, or how he is aware of his own breathing rhythm - in a way he never actually cared about breathing outside the stage or studio. "what I mean is I heard about how hot you are for what feels like a decade."

"I-" Seokmin tries to answer but even his mouth feels weird, his tongue dry, his brain not forming words in the same way he is used to. His mind is just a blank space, and Seokmin thinks that Jeonghan finally won, Jeonghan broke his brain.

"Look this is weird, I know I am begging you to fuck my girlfriend but you need to step up," Jeonghan says, having the audacity to give Seokmin's back a little tap of encouragement. "Do you want me to join? Do you have any things you won't do? I mean I can totally watch in the side even tho cuckolding is not really my thing but what can I do? I am a man in love I do anything to make my girl happy"

"What the fu-" Seokmin says voice small

"Hey are you guys ready? I think the uber is arriving" You say like Jeonghan was not talking about Seokmin fucking you, you say like the three of you are just having a funny vacation on a villa, a few days to distress, to re-energize. Seokmin tho feels like he just lost a whole year, actually, five years, his longevity will be fucked up after this trip.

"Oh? Already?" Jeonghan answers putting his hand on the small of your back. "I was just having a great chat with Seok here."

And Seokmin is aware of everything.

He did suspect that Jeonghan knew. The thoughts always plagued his mind. But now that he knows that Jeonghan knows about everything just unlock another dimension on Seokmin's brain, and the fact that Jeonghan's words left him hyper-aware of everything doesn't help.

Everything just seems like Jeonghan is trying to break Seokmin's mind. 

He suspects when the three of you hop in the backseat of the uber, you in the middle with Jeonghan manspreading, Seokmin thinks it's intentional the way that Jeonghan makes you shift to Seokmins side, the way that Jeonghan arm just rests against the backseat so near Seokmin's nape. Seokmin thinks it's intentional every time the uber does a sharp turn you lean on his leg, hand hot against his thigh and he was insane enough to just wear shorts.

Seokmin thinks it's intentional when Jeonghan chooses a table that is almost hidden, in a dark corner of the restaurant, near the beach. Seokmin thinks it's intentional the way Jeonghan always leans to whisper something in your ear but his eyes not leaving Seokmin, the way that you hold Jeonghan's jaw so delicately makes Seokmin melt against his chair. The way that Seokmin can't make himself look away makes him question his own sanity.

Seokmin knows it's intentional when Jeonghan just keeps reordering wine for you and Seokmin's favorite soju. Seokmin knows it's intentional when every time Jeonghan mouths brush against your ear you look at Seokmin, both your and Seokmin's face red. 

Seokmin knows it's intentional when you hold his hand, it's a silly gesture really, just two of your fingers intertwined with Seokmin's when they back to the villa. And Seokmin knows it's intentional when you don't let go of his hand even tho Jeonghan is kissing you, body pressed against the door.

And again Seokmin can't bring himself to look away, can't bring himself to distance himself, so when Jeonghan leaves your mouth and trails kisses to your jaw and neck and you tug Seokmin's hands he just gives in.

Seokmin knows that he never really had a chance or the strength to say no.

Because in the next second you are kissing him, position weird enough because Jeonghan is right there, and Seokmin thinks he is crazy but the way he can feel the whisky and wine mixed together on your tongue, the faint trace of Jeonghan makes his whole world spin. 

"Do we-" You finally say when your mouth leaves Seokmin's but hand still holding him, fingers hot against his wrist. "Hannie" You say trying to get Jeonghan's attention and Seokmin realizes how your boyfriend is still on your neck, hands against your hips, almost rutting against you. "don't we need to talk about it?" 

And Seokmin again feels his mouth dry, his tongue weird on his mouth. Seokmin knows that everything about this is wrong, he just kissed his friend's girlfriend. He can feel how hot it is, how his clothes cling to his skin, how he can feel the warmth radiating from you and Jeonghan, how your hand doesn't leave his arm. And for the first time in a while, Seokmin just give up on being nice, and he just kiss you again, feeling the urge to just act for once and leave his head. 

And your hand finally leaves his arms, but just to grip on Seokmin's nape and he feels like you and him are just hanging for dear life, one step wrong and you both could fall. 

Because the way Jeonghan feels against your body, the way his mouth feels against your skin feels amplified when Seokmin's mouth is against yours. 

And in a way, it just feels too much already. The feeling of two bodies against yours, the way Seokmin feels against you - totally different of the way Jeonghan does. The way that the unknown feels in Seokmin's touch and the familiar feeling of Jeonghan by your side makes it hard to grasp. 

"fuck-" Jeonghan's voice rings against the silence making your mouth and Seokmin's disconnect. "you two are so hot together but really I think the bedroom is a better place."

So that's how Seokmin is pulled to the bedroom by you, hands-on Seokmin's biceps and Seokmin feels grateful he is hitting the gym regularly, but Seokmin also is so aware that he can feel your need to touch him, hand squeezing his muscle and almost leaving an imprint on it.

Seokmin thinks the whole world is enhanced. Like his touch and his vision just increased, like he has a new set of senses and he is just discovering now. Because when you tug on his clothes the sensation of it against his skin feels new to him. Because when his eyes land on Jeonghan's fingers opening up your dress, feels new to him. And when you speak your voice feels foreign, because he never heard you like that, panting and begging.

"Can you take this off?" You ask so prettily that Seokmin almost sinks on his knee but in contrast to that Jeonghan just giggles.

"Since when are you polite during sex?" Jeonghan asks still laughing but not stopping opening your buttons and Seokmin can see your boobs peeking through the fabrics.

"Jeonghan" You complain.

"Just because we have visits she is behaving nicely" Seokmin feels fucked up in the head because it's a level of intimacy he never actually saw, a whole new experience that he never actually taped into. And in a way, Seokmin feels so close to his personal hell he can actually feel the flames burning his skin - the funny thing is he doesn't actually care anymore. 

Seokmin actually hears your pained whimper when he takes a step away to take his shirt off, but that's what needs to be done really, and because Seokmin is so fucking eager to please he just get his short off but then he feels your hand splayed against his stomach. 

"God you are so hot" You say before giving him a kiss and Seokmin's head starts spinning because one second all his focus is on how you lick his mouth but then your hands are on his boxers, and then he hears Jeoghan.

"Seokmin is pretty right? Go on praise him." And the thought that Seokmin thought he knew Jeonghan flickers in Seokmin's mind because that Jeonghan too is a new version Seokmin never experienced, a Jeonghan he never saw.

"Can I suck you off?" You ask, already palming Seokmin's dick, hand inside his boxes, with Jeonghan glued on your back, kissing your shoulder, and working on your bra strap. 

Seokmin is not a difficult guy really when a pretty girl asks to suck his dick he goes haywire, mind fucked up and body limp, so when you give him a little push he just melts, his knee gives away and he just sits on the bed because really that's the only reaction he can do.

Seokmin feels like his brain is almost leaking out of his ears because the image of you on your knees between his leg is almost enough to make him cum. Just the fact that you, his friend's girlfriend is sitting so pretty between his leg is so fucked up Seokmin need to close his hand against the base of his dick trying to not cum right there.

"Fuck" You start to nuźzle his thigh. Hands still on the floor, mouth open, tongue tracing Seokmin's thigh. "God I love your thighs they are so big." You say giving Seokmin's thigh a little kiss.

"Come on baby, you can do better than that," Jeonghan says kneeling behind you, and now Seokmin knows he is going to hell or going crazy. Jeonghan grabs your boobs - the bra still acting like an obstacle in Seokmin's view, and the need to actually see Jeonghan's skin against yours makes Seokmin crazy.

Seokmin feels your teeth graze against his skin he can feel himself leaking, dick so fucking hard it almost hurts, head already gone - he can't even think about what is right and what is wrong anymore. 

"You can praise Seok a little better or at least say thanks to him because he is fulfilling your crazy fantasy" Jeonghan says fingers thigh against your stomach, while the other is still grabbing your boob. And oh god Seokmin is jealous, he is jealous of Jeonghan touching you like that, he is jealous of you being so at ease moaning head against Jeonghan's shoulder, he is jealous of you two and the relationship you both build. And Seokmin thinks he is the worst person ever.

"Oh god baby you are already this dumb? You want Seokmin so much you are already in this state? He didn't even fucked you properly." The way Jeonghan speaks makes you and Seokmin whimper in unison, both failing to hide the neediness.

"Come on, open up." And Jeonghan's digits tap against your lips, and his other hand guides your head in Seokmin's direction. And when you lap on his dick Seokmin almost cries. Because you are so fucking beautiful, hair held by Jeonghan, lips swollen, and you look so fucked up. And that should be enough for Seokmin really, but then Jeonghan starts again;

"That's it, baby, take Seokmin's pretty cock in your mouth I know you can do it," He says eyes glued on your mouth enveloping Seokmin. "You talked so much about how he must have a nice cock right? Now that you have the opportunity you need to choke on Seokmin's dick right? So fucking big-" 

And Seokmin goes crazy every time Jeonghan says his name, and every time he feels your lips rubbing against his cockhead Seokmin he feels really close to insanity. And when you actually gag a little because Seokmin's hips twitched, Seokmin thinks he has nothing to lose.

"God you are drooling you really wanted that dick in your mouth, right babe?" Jeonghan continues, but now Seokmin can see the way his hand disappears between your legs, your panty hanging between your thighs. "Poor you," Jeonghan coos, and Seokmin can feel the way you just swallow and hums against his dick. "Did Seokmin was too hard for you to get? But now he is here, baby go on, choke on his dick." And Jeonghan's hand leaves your hair to caress your cheek, and the juxtaposition of Seokmin's hard dick against your mouth and Jeonghan's acts make everything so wrong.

When Seokmin hips buckle he knows he is so close to cumming that he can almost taste it, he closes his eyes and waits but his orgasm is ruined it never arrives, and when he looks down Jeonghan's hand is on his shaft, fingers tight against his base. "You can't cum now, she likes when we cum inside her."

"God," Seokmin says, hand tugging his own hair. "this is fucked up"

"How do you want her?" Jeonghan asks like he is talking about furniture or about Seokmin's laundry.

"Shouldn't you be asking her that?" Seokmin asks because really he is taking what he can get, he isn't picky. But you look almost so out of it really Seokmin almost laughs in disbelief because you and Jeonghan are always bickering - but now your body is so pliant against Jeonghan, his hand still going between your legs.

"Not really I know she will enjoy it in any way but-" Jeonghan hands stop and Seokmin can hear you whine, and Seokmin's eyes don't blink when Jeonghan helps you to get on your feet. "She can ride you, I mean this way is better for me to watch."

Jeonghan says patting Seokmin's thigh so Seokmin can lie on the bed, and when Seokmin's back hit the mattress Seokmin feels your mouth against his, and he can actually taste himself on your tongue. And the way you kiss him, almost lazily makes his hand claw at your waist. And when Seokmin feels your legs caging him in, thighs against his hips he just wants to enjoy what he is feeling. And when you whimper against Seokmin's mouth because his dick is finally against your folds Seokmin just gives up.

When you actually sink into his dick Seokmin can almost taste his downfall.

"Fuck-" Jeonghan says tugging at his own dick. When did Jeonghan get naked? Seokmin has no fucking idea. He just grabs your legs and focuses on the way that you feel, your body against him, because if he thinks too much about how your mouth is hanging open at the sight of Jeonghan's dick he may malfunction. "You are so pretty together, gonna keep this going, you guys can fuck anytime if you let me watch it." 

"Hanie" you moan and the fact that Seokmin dicks on you but you are moaning another name makes his head spin - he is a nice guy, he has nice guy bones, he is a nice guy down to his core and he has nice guy cells why the fuck he is partaking in this situation?

It just feels so fucking wrong. 

It feels wrong the way you call Jeonghan and the way Seokmin can feel your pussy clench when you and Jeonghan kiss. It feels wrong the way your hands grab Seokmin's pecs when Jeonghan kisses your jaw. 

"You can cum on her, she likes it messy."

It feels wrong the way every word that leaves Jeonghan's mouth makes you and Seokmin twitch at the same time, hips buckling. And Seokmin feels like he is so close to hell, but when Jeonghan actually uses his body to help you keep your body straight he knows he is lost for eternity really, Seokmin knows he never gonna experience anything close to that. When Jeonghan's hand travels on your body, digits lazily on your clit Seokmin just lets everything goes.

Because everything is so fucked up he can't actually take it, the way you keep chasing even after Seokmin is done, and the way that Jeonghan keeps coaching you until you cum makes Seokmin's mind spin. 

The way Jeonghan just laughs when he helps you chase positions, body spent is so fucking crazy to Seokmin he can't wrap his mind around it. And when you chase Seokmin's mouth to give him a kiss when your back hit the mattress doesn't help Seokmin's state of mind.

"Come on princess, my turn now," Jeonghan says, again doing what he wants to your body, and opening your legs so he can put himself in between. Seokmin can't wrap his head around this either, he never actually thought about how Jeonghan could manhandle you. "Gonna fill you up too don't worry." 

The way that you touch Seokmin's body when Jeonghan enters you make Seokmin swallow nothing. Seokmin never really saw himself as a voyeur, even tho he was always watching, but the way Jeonghan fucks you so slowly and the way Seokmin can hear you whimper just make him crazy all over again. The way you actually hold Seokmin's hand for dear life, the way that Seokmin can touch you while watching takes everything to a new level. And when Seokmin can actually tell you are close he thinks he can't get even more fucked up.

Seokmin feels like the world just stopped for a second or two after Jeonghan cums, everything gets so silent and so still that Seokmin starts to question what is real.

"Come on baby," Jeonghan says and Seokmin looks even tho he thinks Jeonghan is talking to you, but to his surprise, Jeonghan is talking to him, because Jeonghan's free hands are turned to him. 

So Seokmin does what a fucking nice guys does, he complies.

Seokmin gets closer, and Seokmin thinks he can cum again, untouched, because your pussy is so fucking messy, cum dripping out of your hole and dripping on Jeonghan's fingers, and Jeonghan gives Seokmin a little smile and fuck the cum back to you, you squirming because you are so fucking sensitive. "Come on Seok you need to clean up the mess we made." 

And Seokmin feels like he is about to collapse and drop dead because he is so spent how is he feeling horny again? But he does what Jeonghan says, he licks your pussy, cleaning and fucking his tongue on your hole trying to put everything back. "please I-" you say but Seokmins ignores it, continuing his job, cleaning up the mess that he and Jeonghan did. 

"Oh, baby is sensitive?" Jeonghan coos. "Maybe next time you think about wanting two cocks baby. Or maybe next time Seokmin may stretch your ass to give this pussy a rest." Jeonghan says and Seokmin puts his mouth against your clit, lapping at it, because just to think about a next time is enough to make him actually cry "Fuck, you are such a whore," Jeonghan laughs "Do you want to come in Seokmin's mouth thinking about his dick on your ass?" And Seokmin can see you two kissing when he still eating you out. "God look at him, he keeps going."

"You guys are perverts," Jeonghan says like he was not involved in the whole scheme. Laying on the bed, spent, Seokmin keeps going until you cum against his tongue.

#Lee Seokmin Smut #Yoon Jeonghan Smut #Lee Seokmin fanfic #Seventeen Smut #Seventeen fanfic #t: lee seokmin #t: yoon jeonghan #t: writting #t: seventeen #Lee Seokmin fic #yoon jeonghan fic #seventeen fic #yoon jeonghan fanfic

[444rockstargf]

so i was wondering, what if reader is obsessed with charlie as he is with her, and she does all the weird things he did, like recording him without him knowing, then one day she'll see what he's doing in his room and he's seeing what she's doing in her room, and they're both like "what?!"

love this idea, thanks for requesting! <3

"think about you almost all the time." | charlie walker

meet me in the pale moonlight - lana del rey (my personal fave)

gn!reader x charlie

contents: stalking, a little fluff

you had only talked to charlie once in your whole life, and it was just a simple interaction at the beginning of freshman year but he always seemed so different from every other guy at woodsboro high school so you took it into your own hands to learn everything about him he was the president of cinema club, so you made sure to show up everytime you snuck pictures of him whenever he wasn't looking pictures of him smiling, laughing, and doing innocent little things that made your mind run wild it had become your cute little hobby you were obsessed with him. completely head over heels. so when he invited to over to his house for a movie marathon, you couldn't contain your excitement you picked out your nicest outfit before making your way to his house charlie greeted you at the door with a warm smile, and you wished that you could take of picture of him at that moment he ushered you inside, handing you a drink. your fingers touched for a fraction of a second, but that was all it took for a dumb little smile to spread across your face you notice him eyeing you throughout the movie. he was finally noticing you, and you didn't know how to feel about it you asked to go to the restroom, and he pointed the way one wrong turn led you into his bedroom. you wanted to turn around and pretend you didn't just trespass, but you were finally inside of charlies bedroom. this opened a new realm of opportunities. you look around his room, fascinated by everything in sight. something sticking out from under his pillow catches your eye you pull it out and discover that its a photo album with your name on the front you flip through it, discovering many pictures of you at random moments you reach into charlies pillow case, finding a pair of your underwear that you'd been looking for for month you hear a gasp at the door, causing you to jump. it was charlie, and he was red with embarassment

you just stared at eachother in silence before walking over to him and giving him a kiss on the cheek

you finally tell him how you feel and show him all the photos you have of him. he gets rlly flustered

you dont try to hide the surprise you feel when you find out that he has wanted you just as badly the whole time.

author's note: thank you for the first request! this is a little messy, but i hope you enjoyed it. requests are open!

#charlie walker x reader #charlie walker #rory culkin #scream 4 #scream #scre4m #lana del rey

[thedoctorsthings]

Power to the king | MYG chapter 3.

Okay change of plans. Drama is coming next chapter. I thought it was time to give our characters a moment to feel good, so enjoy some fluff. and yes, hnefatafl is a real ancient scandinavian game, look it up.

content warning: none

fluff, idiots in love (they have no idea), a bit of angst as well because i'm still me.

wc: 4,1K

It's been a few weeks since the king’s outburst. The morning after when you were mulling over the night before over breakfast, you remembered something his father had said. In the moment you hadn’t really noticed because you were too busy being angry over what the king had said to you, or more correctly, about you. He had said that the reason you hadn’t been blessed with child was something Yoongi did. Since this realisation you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. What could that mean? What had Yoongi done that would be able to call the wrath of the gods over him? He wasn’t the nicest person, that was for sure, but he didn’t seem like a man to commit war crimes or something along those lines. You decided you would ask the one person that might answer.

You knocked on his doors: “come in”, his youthful voice sounded. You pushed open the door as quiet as possible. You didn’t know why, there was no reason to be quiet, but something about this castle made you feel like you had to. Every person here seemed to be walking on eggshells constantly. “Ah, my princess, or maybe I shouldn’t say ‘my’. I might cause our future king to throw a hissy fit”. “Good morning, your highness”, you laughed. Jungkook got up from the desk he’d been sitting at. He turned to the window and pointed: “I think there’s a fox’ nest in front of my window. I’ve got half a mind to steal one of the cubs to keep as a pet”, he smiled. “I don’t think the mother would just let you get away with that”, you said while peering out the window to catch a glimpse of the nest. “I can fight”, Jungkook retaliated. “I’d have to take her side Jungkook, a mother shouldn’t have to give up her children for your pleasure”, you tease the young prince. “alright, alright missy, why are you here?” You laugh at the nickname: “I have a question”. “shoot”. “A few weeks ago, at dinner when your father got angry because I’m not pregnant yet, he said something about something Yoongi did. He said it’s the reason we don’t have a child yet. What was that about?” Jungkook’s face darkened and for a second there was nothing left of the funny, joking Jungkook you had come to know. “I can’t tell you that story, it’s not my place”. You didn’t really know what to say to that so you just waited. The seriousness of his words hung between you two. “If you really want an answer you should ask my mother, besides I’m too young to really remember”. You nodded and lest the room.

Outside Jungkook’s door you nearly bumped into your husband who had apparently been standing quite close to the door. “What were you giggling about in there? I could hear you from across the hall”, he says with his cold voice. When you look up into his eyes you expect to see anger, but instead you’re met with a soft sort of concern. “I could ask you what you were giggling about with that maid as well”, you snarled before walking away. Yoongi sighed. He was starting to fear you would never get past this. He knocks on his brother’s door, but doesn’t wait for an answer before barging in. “What was that about?” Jungkook barely looks up: “she just had some questions about the castle, don’t worry about it”.

That night after dinner you decide to visit the queen. From you limited conversation with Yoongi you had learned that the queen slept until noon and then went to bed past midnight. You had barely spoken to the queen, except for one time on your wedding day, but that day had gone by in such a haze that you barely remembered what her face looked like. You knew she had poor health, that her bones were frail and her skin thin. She spent her days inside and in her bed. You complained about being stuck, but you could barely stand to imagine being married to the king and having to stay in bed all day. It sounded like torture. At dinner you had already been even less at ease than you normally were, but now that you were standing in front of her door you felt like your knees might give out any moment. You took a deep breath and knocked on the thick wooden door. It took a while for an answer to come and in the mean time you noticed the door was decorated with beautiful woodcarving. The scene was a that of a mother bear and her cubs. Finally a weak voice called: “come in”. You slowly walked into the room. The queen was laying on her bed leaning on a dozen pillows. Her silky black hair cascaded over them like a lake in the moonlight. The moon shone over her face through the window and it gave her a ghostly look. She looked like one gust of wind might carry her out of the window and send her floating into the sun. years later you would be telling your children this really happened.

“Ah, my daughter in law, how nice to finally meet you. Properly at least”, she smiled at you, and you felt all the tension leave your body. How could such a soft woman be married to such a beast. She gestured to the wooden chair next to her bed and you sat down. “You’re a beautiful girl, how is my son treating you?” She looked so much like Yoongi it was uncanny. You should probably count yourself lucky that he didn’t look this much like his father. However, the answer to her question was hard to find. For a moment you stared at the stone floor before the queen answered for you. “He’s not the most loving husband, is he? I know my son”. You looked up and smiled at her: “No he’s not, but I find it hard to describe him”. After this a torrent of words came flowing out of you. You told her about everything you had been through with Yoongi. How he had treated you, how you had treated him and about the maid. At the story of the maid her face contorted into a scowl: “I should teach that boy some manners, he’s been under the influence of his father too much since I’ve gotten sick”. At the end you had arrived at that night a couple weeks ago. When the king had lashed out at you for not being pregnant yet. When you asked your question about what Yoongi had done the queen was quiet for a long while. “Yoongi had an older brother once. He was only a year older and when they four and five years old we went on a picknick outside the castle. We were eating close to a river, a river with wild currents. They were playing and I lost sight of them for only a minute, one minute to change our lives forever. I don’t know exactly what happened because Yoongi was only four and too shocked to be able to tell the story clearly, but from what I know, Yoongi had pushed his brother. It wasn’t on purpose, but that didn’t matter. It was hard enough, my oldest son fell into the river and never came out. Minjun was his name. My husband found the perfect heir in him. He was strong and loud like him, when he lost him that meant he had to settle for Yoongi as his heir. The quiet frail son he would rather forget and hide forever. I don’t think the king ever really loved Minjung. He just wanted to shape him into a younger version of him. After that day the kind turned harsh and angry. That in its turn made Yoongi cold and harsh as well. It’s not his fault, but I can’t seem to get that through to him”.

The queen’s face had turned grey while telling this story. It pained her and you felt guilty for making her relive it. “I’m sorry that I asked, I know this must not be easy to tell”. “It’s alright child, someone would have to tell you some day, and I’d rather I do it than my son”. You let the story sit in between you for a minute. You heard the crackling of the fire in her room and an owl warned intruders on his territory.  “I know my son isn’t the easiest, but I think he could open up if you give him time”.  You knew this was true, but you were so tired. Life in this castle was so exhausting and having a husband that would barely look at you didn’t make anything easier. “I don’t know if I have the skill to make that happen. Your majesty, I’m so tired”. Finally admitting this out loud loosened something in you and before you could stop yourself you noticed tears had started to stain your cheeks. The queen looked at you with an expression full of compassion. “I’m sorry, that this place has been so hard on you. I know exactly what you’re going through. This marriage was set up by the king and I’m begging you, don’t let him get to you. Don’t let that man kill you like he did me. Don’t give up, don’t let this place take the life from your eyes. It gets easier if you just give him time. Soon my daughter will come back from her education abroad and you’ll have another woman around. From day one I hoped that you would do what I couldn’t, staying strong”. You simply nodded and let the queen hold your hand for a while longer. It felt so good to finally feel cared for again. To be able to open up was something you didn’t know you needed so bad.

Instead of going straight back to your rooms after leaving the queen you decided to take a detour through the gardens. You needed time to think. The queen’s words had given you some semblance of hope. She says Yoongi could be warmed up to you, and who would now him better than his own mother? But this would require you to be nice to him, and you weren’t sure you were ready for that. He had been sneaking of with that maid, and who knows how many more there were that you didn’t see. You walk on the moonlit path between the flower bushes. As you run your hand over some flowers your mind is going a thousand miles an hour. He had humiliated you, isolated you and forced you to never show how you felt. The queen had made another good point however, this marriage wasn’t Yoongi’s idea. It had been set up by his father who you now know to have not an ounce of compassion for your husband, or anyone else for that matter. It was true that Yoongi was a man and could thus never feel as trapped as you, but he could just as well be burning with rage towards this whole ordeal. Living with a father who never forgave you for accidentally sending the brother you could never live up to into an early grave couldn’t be an easy life. When you arrive at the big oak tree you’ve made your decision. You would try to be kinder again, invite him to do things with you, and maybe even open up about your old life. If there was anything that could be done to make this life easier you would try. You might even find an ally in your husband. You could fend of his father together.

You had been standing at under the huge tree for a while when you heard an alarming sound. the sound of something heavy sweeping through the air accompanied by grunts and uneven breathing made the air in your lungs halt. You slowly round the tree, careful not to make a noise. The origin of the sounds is no other than the king. All on his own he seemed to be fighting invisible enemies, swirling his heavy sword through the air in a fury, while standing in the empty temple a couple of metres from the tree. His majesty lunges for the stone pillars one by one. He seems to be in a haze, his face contorted in genuine anger. What could possibly be the point of this? The strange sight had left you frozen in your tracks. That was until the king abruptly looked you right in the eye. You turned as quick as the wind and ran back to your rooms as quietly as you could. Although something told you that man had not seen you. He had looked right through you. You had never seen that look in a person’s eyes. There was something chilling about the empty rage you had just seen.

The next morning you wake up tired. After mulling over the possible reasons for the king’s behaviour you had finally fallen asleep, but your peace didn’t last long. Countless dreams of Yoongi pushing his brother in the river had kept you up. You had dreamt the same thing so many times that after a while it was you pushing Yoongi in the river.  You shook the sleep from your eyes and got ready for breakfast. Once you’ve taken your seat in the rough wooden chairs of the dining table you eat in silence like every day. While the king rambles about possible conflicts that could cause war you look out the huge windows of the dining table. They look out on the courtyard and on good days they bathe the cold room in sunlight. This day Yoongi is enveloped in a beam of light, and it makes him look even more hauntingly beautiful than normal. When you’re staring at your husband Jungkook speaks up. “I’m going to pick up our sister at the port today. I thought that maybe Y/N could come with me. It will be good for her to be seen among the people again”. You perk up at this idea. Every day since the festival you have yearend to walk outside of these walls again. The king barely acknowledges the suggestion and just lazily waves a hand at Yoongi, signalling that this is his decision to make; obviously not yours, you think to yourself. Yoongi stays unmoving for a second before saying: “You’re right Jungkook, that would be a good idea”. It comes out through a clenched jaw, and you don’t miss the way his hands grip his knife a bit tighter. This was getting frustrating. If he was so upset by you doing things with Jungkook then why didn’t he try to spend time with you. Did he just want you to sit patiently, doing nothing all day? Jungkook looks at you expectantly and you chirp: “I would love to meet your sister”.

You’re sitting in a carriage with Jungkook on your way to the port, and the people have been flocking together in the streets to watch you go. Jungkook had decided on an open carriage because the people had not seen the royal family in a while, and he felt they needed to seem accessible. On top of that they had not seen the princes for several months, since she had spent the winter in a far away castle, being thought how to behave like a princess. Apparently, she had had some trouble being the perfect polite princess. You had decided you liked her the minute Jungkook told you this. You wave at the people and one of them even calls your name. You’re surprised they even knew it. When you arrive at the wharf where the princess’ ship is docked the guard helps you out of the carriage. You had picked up somewhere that his name was Namjoon, he was one of the robust men you’d ever seen and normally he exclusively guarded the king, but this was apparently important enough for the king to send out one of his personal guards. Guarding the king was a great honour and as apposed to the regular guards this position could only be taken by young men of noble blood. There were two king’s guards. Namjoon’s counterpart was a friendly looking man named Hoseok.

 You thanked him and positioned yourself next to Jungkook as you waited for the princes to ascend from the ship. She appeared, accompanied by two guards and it was as if the sun shone a bit brighter. By Odin the genes in this family, they certainly did not come from the king. She gracefully walked down the plank with a serious expression on her face, but after standing in front of Jungkook for a second her face broke into a smile. “Jungkook, I’m so happy to see you!”, she exclaimed while pulling him into an enthusiastic embrace. Jungkook laughed and directed her attention towards you. “Sister, we sent you a message that Yoongi had gotten married a couple months back, I know, we didn’t think it was possible either. This is your new sister-in-law. She looks at you, smiling, and then reaches out to kiss your cheeks. This was a standard greeting in your kingdom, but no one had done it to you in so long that it almost felt foreign. “You have to tell me everything about yourself”, the princess said as she was being helped into the carriage. And so, you did. You and her talked so much on the way back that Jungkook barely managed to get a word in.

Yoongi was sitting at his desk, brooding. Not that he normally did something different, but he was brooding harder than ever. His wife was out welcoming his sister with his brother. Yoongi was sure that you liked spending time with Jungkook a million times more than you did with him. Yoongi had a wife and she hated spending time with him, and the worst part was, no one would blame you. He wouldn’t want to spend time with him either. If he had been married away to some cold, moody man in a different city he would be pissed of all the time too. Especially if that stupid man couldn’t keep it in his pants long enough to wait for him. He beat himself up over it every day. Why did he think it was a smart idea to run off with a maid. He had a wife for god’s sake and patience. He could easily have waited until you were ready, but life in this castle was so damn lonely. He had made a habit out of fooling around with staff. Not being touched by anyone since the tender age of 11 had had its toll on him, although he would never admit it. Now he was sitting here, with a wife but still alone, getting pissed of while she was of with his much more charming brother.

“Are you trying to rip of the arm rest of your chair?”, Jungkook had barged in, without knocking, of course. “Yes, I was hoping to use it to swing at you”, Yoongi said while taking his hand of the arm rest, which he had previously been gripping tightly, lost in thought. “Oh, look who woke up with a sense of humour this morning”, Jungkook chuckled before stepping further into the room. “Our sister is back. I told her to wait in the reception hall, but I’m not sure how long Y/N can hold her of”. He had barely uttered his sentence or there she was, shining in his doorway. Yoongi broke into a smile, the first real one in many months. He stood up, seconds before being engulfed in an overwhelming embrace. “Yoongi!”, his sister exclaimed while jumping in his arms. “I see they didn’t teach you appropriate greetings at that school”, he smiled. By Odin, he loved his sister. “I did very well and polite meeting your wife earlier, Jungkook tell him I did very well meeting his wife”. “She did very well meeting Y/N” So now Jungkook was calling his wife by her first name?

Later that day dinner was livelier than ever. Don’t be mistaken, the king still did very well taking down the princess’ cheer, but he never managed to get her completely quiet like he could with the rest of the castle’s inhabitants. You spend the whole evening talking to the princess and Jungkook. Yoongi, to his dismay, barely managed to say anything at all. This wasn’t because there was no time for him to force a word in. He simply didn’t know how to engage in chitter chatter like other people. Once again you were being brought to laughter by his brother instead of him, and this time there was a second sibling to prove to him how easy it was to talk to you.  When looking down at his dinner plate he made a decision. He was going to do better by you. He was going to ask you to spend time with him. He was going to ask about you and your past.

That night you’re pacing up and down your room. This whole day you had talked to people more than you ever had in this place. The arrival of the princess had made you realise something. You were capable of talking to members of this family and even form friendships with them. How much harder could Yoongi be. He was raised by the same parents. There must be something of the other two in him as well. After crossing the room a few more times you decided. You were going to his rooms and ask him to play the board game you knew he loved again. He had done accepted last time, and you were going to have to take a chance on something sometime. With all the confidence you can muster up you step to your door and resolutely open it. “Good evening”, you’re greeted by your husband’s chest. By the looks of it he had been standing unnaturally close to the door, and about to knock as well because his hand was still doltishly raised in a fist. He clears his throat before saying: “I was wondering if you wanted to play Hnefatafl again…tonight”. You take a moment to recover from the near heart attack you had just had before stuttering: “yes, yes I would”.

Once seated at your little table with the board in between you Yoongi asked: “Where were you going?” you hesitate a bit. “Uhm, to the bathroom”, you lied. After playing the game for a while in silence you decided you couldn’t take it anymore and had to say something. “Recently I visited your mother”. “Oh, what did you talk about?” Quick what was something you could’ve discussed with the queen that wasn’t as embarrassing as your crippling loneliness: “The festival and the druids’ vision”. “Of course, much to discuss on that topic”, was all Yoongi managed to get out. While he mentally cursed himself for his clumsiness you said: “When I was walking back to my rooms I ran into your father”. “Are you okay?”, Yoongi chuckled, only half joking. “I don’t think he saw me”, You left a moment of silence to look for the right words to describe what you had seen. “He was practising sword fighting I think”. “Let me guess. He was fighting air”. You looked up at him suddenly: “Yes exactly”. Yoongi sighed. “Don’t worry too much about it, he’s done it before. In fact, I’m not sure how much sanity he has left in that brain”. You played your turn before saying: “He looked at me for a moment. There was something in his eyes that shook me the core”. Yoongi looked you in the eye with a serious expression on his face. “Next time tell me. I want to make sure that man never puts his hands on you or inflicts any harm on you, and I can only do that if you tell me, the instant he does anything suspicious”. His words sent a warm feeling down your spine.

You had promised to tell him next time and a few moments later you had beat him in hnefatafl, so all in all a pretty good night. He got up and shook your hand. “That was a good game. I’ll have to come back tomorrow to restore my honour though”. You smiled: “I would like that”, and with that your husband left the room. That night you went to bed feeling good for the first time in months. There was no way for you to know, but the crown prince did the same thing.

@viankiss @lifeless-firefly @emerald-notes @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs @jjkwifestyle

#bts #jimin #jungkook #namjoon #taehyung #yoongi #bts headcanons #jin #hoseok #bts fanfiction #bts historical au #bts fantasy au #fanfiction #bangtan #bts x reader #yoongi x reader

[trickstarbrave]

concubine au part 4. part 3 can be found here

content warnings: abuse and slavery mentioned, but mostly this is just them acting to throw off some shitheads off their trail. i recommend looking at the other parts too tbh

no actual smut this part but def in the next part lol

In the days that followed, Nerevar was genuinely embarrassed he got so into the act. He couldn’t believe himself--getting so turned on from something like that? Luckily, Voryn didn’t seem to mind, acting as though nothing was unusual. Likely, he thought it was just pretend on Nerevar’s part, or just him blowing off steam and relaxing to the thought of someone familiar touching him. 

But Nerevar knew. He knew he was playing with fire. But they were too far in it now to turn back, so he had to just be careful not to get burned. 

They continued their practice, Nerevar slowly developing the persona he intended to put on that played off Voryn well. They continued establishing boundaries, getting used to each other’s touch to the point anyone would think they were lovers rather than two friends acting. They did everything Nerevar could think of as necessary to practice--not just sex, but touching, flirting, eating… He sat on the floor at Voryn’s feet sometimes while Voryn worked, letting the other play with his hand absentmindedly. He ate from Voryn’s hand, both docility and stubbornly, getting used to Voryn acting angry. They even discussed how to fake ‘punishments’ and settled on illusion magic with some light slapping to sell it.

And then it finally came--a letter was delivered by a servant of House Dres, asking if Voryn had any idea where Nerevar was. Voryn had been acting innocent enough, not paying House Dres any mind now that his ‘business deal’ was taken care of. Just as they planned, he acted annoyed, sending a letter explaining Anaryl sold Nerevar off to Voryn and he had all the paperwork in order, sending copies. He didn’t even let on that he knew he was dead.

House Dres acted similarly. No doubt their initial plan was to corner him and demand answers when he denied it, but seeing him being open and covering his tracks so thoroughly must have thrown them off. Predictable, at least to Nerevar. Instead they changed tactics, now explaining there was something unusual going on in House Dres and they wanted to come speak in person to sort out all the details. 

Just in the nick of time, Nerevar’s new clothes befitting his status as ‘concubine’ were finished. They were of much finer quality than anything he wore in House Dres--luxurious fabrics with careful details and embroidery, leaving more of his body exposed. Plenty of gold and even ebony jewelry was added on top, selling the look. Voryn even left a few love bites here and there across his skin; a few on his neck, collarbone, even a couple on his inner thighs you’d only catch a few glimpses of as he walked. The goal was to sell the illusion he was Voryn’s most prized possession, and every inch of Nerevar’s appearance made that clear. But probably, the nicest part of it all, was the level of care Voryn put into picking the outfits. He made sure they were comfortable for Nerevar, and also gave him the freedom of movement he preferred. When relaxing he could stretch out, walk around comfortably, or even run if need be. 

Before when he was dressed in such a way he hated every second of it. He hated the fabric either being too heavy or clinging to his skin too much. He hated the feminine cut of the clothes being too tight in some areas and too baggy in others. Nerevar felt like a joke in House Dres, and Anaryl practically treated him like one, doing everything to either humiliate or hurt him. But here… Here he felt like he had agency. Like he was important. Voryn cared, always accounting for Nerevar’s tastes and comfort every step of the way. 

And then the noblemen of House Dres arrived: five nobles total, along with several servants and a handful of scribes. An excess of people for what should be just discussing a prior business deal they didn’t know about, ruffling a few feathers of other people in House Dagoth. 

“Are you ready?” Voryn asked quietly, fussing over Nerevar’s clothes and hair one final time. The servants put a few braids and beds in it, before styling his mohawk. They even added a bit of kohl to his eyes, per Nerevar’s request; Nerevar thought it both suited the clothes, and if he cried it would be very apparent, appealing to the sadism of the noblemen who wanted to see him brought low. 

“I’ll be fine.” Nerevar smiled, taking one of Voryn’s hands into his own. “Are your spies in place?” 

“Yes.” Voryn replied. Nerevar had anticipated some of the ‘servants’ they were bringing were actually spies trying to find dirt on them. But this was the territory and stronghold of House Dagoth; Voryn would allow the spies only so much freedom, just enough to get ‘evidence’ that proved their story true. If any of them actually tried to dig through paperwork, or even actually enter Voryn and Nerevar’s rooms, they would be killed swiftly and used against House Dres. “We’ll play it by ear, alright?” Voryn finished with Nerevar’s hair, before his hand slid down the side of his neck. “One more thing…”

“What…?” Nerevar asked, suppressing a shiver from the touch, before gasping softly as Voryn moved down, sucking on a spot that would be very visible. Nerevar moaned softly, clinging to him as Voryn made sure it was nice and dark, before pulling away and rubbing his thumb across the new bruise.

“Just the finishing touch.” Voryn smiled, almost apologetically, but with a little mischief in his eyes. Nerevar chucked softly.

“C’mon…” Nerevar let himself get led out of the bedroom, Voryn now tugging him roughly by the wrist. He hid his smile well, instead staring down at the floor as they walked, following behind Voryn obediently. Part of him was still anxious seeing the noblemen again, but not as much as he anticipated. He felt well supported and protected here; the walls of the stronghold were familiar and comforting, and Voryn would be sure to remove him from the situation if the need arose. They even worked out a non-verbal way for Nerevar to say he wanted out, in case talking was impossible or would be more suspicious. 

Entering the room, Voryn looked annoyed and disgruntled, though trying to be polite. “Apologies for the delay,” Voryn said, taking a seat on a luxurious chair in the sitting room, a cushion already prepared to the side by a servant. There, Nerevar kneeled as though trained, moving slowly and hesitantly to put his head on Voryn’s thigh. After a few seconds of waiting, Voryn tugged him closer, making Nerevar lay his head on his lap, cheek pressed to his thigh. Despite the sour look on his face, it was oddly comforting for Nerevar; he could smell Voryn clearly with his face practically buried in his robes, the scent grounding him despite the other noblemen in their presence. Voryn then began stroking Nerevar’s hair, leaving the brand new bruise exposed. “I was simply taking care of a few things.”

“No apologies needed,” The highest member, Dres Galar replied, “In fact, I would like to apologize for coming so suddenly.”

Voryn rested his face on his hand, looking at them skeptically. Nothing about his posture was closed off; he looked like he had absolutely nothing to hide. He even brought Nerevar with him as though he dragged Nerevar everywhere, something they hadn’t been anticipating. Already, they were off to a good start. “I trust you came for something important…?”

Galar cleared his throat now, taking on a more serious tone as he looked over the document a servant from House Dres handed him. 

“The documents you provided seem to be in order,” He explained. “And the transfer of ownership seems legitimate.” Of course it did, Nerevar thought to himself, Voryn and his spies were experts at faking documents, especially with Nerevar’s knowledge helping them. “We simply find it…” Dres Galar’s eyes locked with Nerevar’s, earning him a harsh glare from the other chimer. “Unusual that one of our own would die so soon after selling off his favorite slave.” 

A servant from House Dagoth came over with a long pipe in hand, filled with various fragrant herbs. Voryn only really smoked in front of others, adding to his air of maturity and authority. Seeing Nerevar was glaring though he gave a sharp tug to his hair, making Nerevar hiss, before giving a short, barely suppressed whimper as he buried his face into Voryn’s robes. 

“It’s quite unfortunate timing.” Voryn remarked, blowing out smoke as he talked, his tone entirely unsympathetic.. “As sad as it is though, it’s beyond my control whether he lives or dies, so I fail to see why you’re bringing it up to me.” 

“He was executed by the Morag Tong mere hours after you left his residence.” Galar said firmly.

“And what? Should I have known and stayed later to prevent it? Intervened? Paid them off?” Voryn scoffed, as though he believed they were accusing him of not preventing it rather than orchestrating it. “Their duty is to fulfill their writ with as few witnesses as possible. As a worshiper of Mephala, why would I get in the way of it even if I knew?”

“Did you have him killed?” Galar asked outright, eyes boring into Voryn’s. Voryn’s face remained impassive, his mask not cracking for an instant. 

“There was no need.” Voryn said dismissively. “I hardly even knew him. We had one business transaction.” Voryn brough the long, elegant pipe to his lips, inhaling, before blowing out another cloud of fragrant smoke. “Even if I did, for whatever reason, it’s not as though it’s illegal. I’d discourage you from seeking out whoever paid for his death.” He said that with the same tone someone would scold a child with, making a vein in Dres Galar’s face grow prominent, though he continued to try and act polite. 

“... He seems much more docile than he was under Anaryl’s care.” Galar instead turned his attention to Nerevar. Nerevar tensed slightly, but Voryn kept his cool. 

“He needed some discipline, that’s all.” Voryn explained. “He can still be disobedient from time to time,” Voryn was now playing with Nerevar’s hair, running through the long waves that ran down his back, before twirling a strand around his finger. “But I know just how to keep him in line.”

“I’ve been told you knew him before all this.” Galar smiled, thinking he had found a way to get under Voryn’s skin. “That the two of you were quite close, in fact, and that you had been looking for him.”

It wasn’t a secret, of course. But Voryn still remained calm and collected, smoking absentmindedly. 

“I did know him well, since childhood in fact.” He elaborated. “He ran off after a little…. Spat, shall we say.” The corners of Voryn’s mouth twitched up into a barely suppressed sly grin. “I was beside myself trying to bring him back, only to find out Dres Anaryl had him…” He blew another cloud of smoke, before his fingers moved to brush against Nerevar’s ear, making him hiss and squirm. It felt good, but Nerevar acted disgusted and annoyed with the action, his hips shifting on the pillow. “Not that I can blame Anaryl; he’s quite a beautiful little thing,” Voryn now looked down, tilting Nerevar’s chin up to look at him. Nerevar bared his teeth slightly, his cheeks flushed. “Aren’t you?” He asked, his voice dropping to an almost seductive tone. 

“Fuck you.” Nerevar muttered, barely audible. At that, Voryn’s eyes went dark as he took Nerevar by the jaw firmly. 

“Don’t make me reprimand you again, Neht.” His voice was gravely and deep like this, and Nerevar almost felt ashamed at how arousing it was to hear. His nails dug into Nerevar’s skin just enough to leave crescent shaped marks. “Just sit there and be a good boy,” Voryn’s voice was very low now, as though it was only for Nerevar to hear, “Understood?” 

“... Yes sir…” Came Nerevar’s reluctant response, as he looked away in faux disgust. 

“I didn’t think you would be so cruel as to keep a former friend in such a state.” Galar added, watching the scene unfold with heavy skepticism in his eyes. 

“Our relationship is very… Complex.” Voryn explained. “Friendship can be such a fragile thing in the end, easily disrupted by things such as duty, battle…” Voryn then smirked softly and sadistically as he forced Nerevar’s mouth open, sliding his thumb against his teeth as Nerevar’s eyes screwed shut in pure revulsion. “... Even affection.” He then ran his thumb against Nerevar’s tongue, watching him groan and try to pull away to no avail. “Circumstances change, and sometimes you need to make sacrifices.” Voryn then pulled his thumb out of Nerevar’s mouth, wiping the spit on Nerevar’s cheek, admiring the look of defiance in his eyes. 

“But do trust I will protect what’s mine, in my own way.” Voryn spoke, still looking at Nerevar’s eyes as if it was something specifically for the chimer at his feet to hear rather than anyone else. And then, he looked back up at Galar. “It may be cruel in the eyes of some, but our relationship is very layered and deep. We understand each other better than anyone.” Voryn looked absolutely sick with desire as he looked down at Nerevar, making him shudder involuntarily. Goosebumps broke out over his skin, though not from disgust as others might think. “Isn’t that right, Neht?” 

Nerevar didn’t have a good response, so instead he held his tongue, trying to look away. Voryn tugged his chin up more, his eyes demanding a response. His lips formed a thin line, refusing to respond, making Voryn give a long, disappointed sigh. “You always try my patience as of late, don’t you…” Voryn muttered, before letting go with a bit of aggression in his movements. 

“I suppose your relationships are none of my business.” Galar seemed to be convinced of their act for now, looking a little disgusted at the display. “Apologies again for the interruption. We would just hate to find out there might have been some foul play and theft at work.”

“You would accuse me of theft?” Voryn raised an eyebrow.

“No no,” Galar back peddled, laughing awkwardly. “I would never go so far as to accuse you of theft. I’m certain the young lord of House Dagoth has more than enough gold to buy one measly little slave.” He elaborated, trying to smooth it over. “But from an outsider's perspective the timing was quite ill fated, and if we don’t at least act like we’re looking into it, well…” Galar gave an apologetic smile. “Others might assume we are weak willed or fool hardy.” 

“Well we wouldn’t want that.” Voryn replied. “The dignity of Great Houses should always be preserved.” Voryn added, playing into the unity House Dres clung to. One might think House Dres would be combative and petty given their reputation as slave and plantation owners, but they actually supported the other Great Houses strongly, wanting to stand united. It’s why they appealed to law and the court system rather than only handling disputes themselves, after all. 

“I’m glad you feel the same.” Galar rose from his seat. “If it won’t trouble you, Lord Dagoth, we’ll only stay a few days and then leave back to Tear to finish sorting this out.” Voryn nodded as though he didn’t care one way or the other. “Rest assured, once we return back we’ll make sure your name is cleared.”

“That would be appreciated.” Voryn continued to rest in his seat, now stroking Nerevar’s hair once again. The men filed out to be escorted to their guest rooms, while Nerevar inwardly sighed in relief they were finally gone. After confirming the room was in fact entirely empty, Voryn set the pipe aside, inviting Nerevar to move up onto his lap. 

Nerevar could excuse it even though they weren’t acting at the moment as simply a precaution. After all, it was possible one of the noblemen would return claiming they “forgot” something. If Nerevar was seated on Voryn’s lap whispering in his ear, that was expected of a concubine. 

“You did well.” Voryn praised him as Nerevar rested comfortably against him, his head on Voryn’s shoulder. 

“Mm,” Nerevar hummed. “I barely did anything. You’re the one who did most of it.” 

“But your actions sold it.” Voryn smiled softly. “You aren’t uncomfortable anywhere, right?” 

Well, he wasn’t, except for his underwear getting soaked. But Voryn didn’t need to know that, so Nerevar shook his head. 

“I’m fine…” Gods Nerevar wished he could kiss him, but he knew he couldn’t afford to risk everything just to satisfy himself. Kissing was fine during practice or acting, but he reminded himself he wasn’t actually Voryn’s lover. They were friends--good friends who had to act like this due to circumstances. Nothing more or less. Voryn was doing him a favor, and Nerevar didn’t want to take advantage of it. 

“Should we put on another show?” Nerevar offered. “Plenty of time before dinner,” He continued, “And I’m sure it would really convince them of it.” He was telling the truth; from their act they would think Voryn could barely keep his hands off Nerevar, eager to take advantage of him now that Nerevar couldn’t escape. It would be unusual for them to not hear a lord and his new, beloved little concubine having sex, wouldn’t it? 

“What did you have in mind?” Voryn asked, rubbing gently at Nerevar’s scalp just like he knew Nerevar liked it. 

“Hmm…” Nerevar hummed contemplatively. “The baths could work,” The public bath was closer to the guest rooms after all, just within ear shot. “Or if you don’t mind the servants seeing us, you could take me in the hall.” Voryn’s fingers stopped their slow, small circles on his scalp for a brief moment, before they continued. 

“... The hall might be more convincing.” Voryn’s voice was slightly quieter. 

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Nerevar stressed. “No no,” Voryn replied, “It would work the best. Besides,” Voryn gave a soft, reassuring smile. “I have an idea in mind.” Nerevar raised a brow, earning a chuckle. 

“How about this,” Voryn whispered softly in his ear. “I’ll act like I’m reprimanding you, scolding and spanking you while you struggle,” Nerevar already liked the sound of that; spanking was one of the few ‘punishments’ he really didn’t mind. “Before I take you hard and fast right against the wall.” 

“Sounds good.” Nerevar answered, trying hard to not let his own arousal show. Instead, he offered a mischievous grin as he and Voryn stood up.

#nerevoryn #indoril nerevar #nerevar #voryn dagoth #concubine au #my writing

[uppastthejelliclemoon]

Uppast's Tour Commentary time!!!

unfortunately tumblr decided to delete the first commentary post i made before i could post it, so this might be missing some details!

if you have any questions on a specific actor/character, let me know!!

i saw the 8:00 p.m. show on 3/4/2023!

cast changes:

Gracie as Tantomile

Kieran as Mistoffelees

if i talk about a Cats character, i will be using that cat's name and pronouns, but obviously, if i'm talking about an actor, I will be using their names and pronouns (so Demeter and Skimble I will be using she/her and he/him, but obviously, for Nora and Zamb, i will be using they/them)

Act 1:

SUCH a powerful cast holy shit

like their harmonies were so strong, and every dance mark was hit perfectly

I think they’re the strongest cast I’ve seen

Plato and Tori are????? So in love????? Sobbing?????

Nora!Dem and Kade!Munk are also VERY IN LOVE like they're adorble

Michelle is honestly my favorite Jennyanydots, now I've seen her three times, and she's just as amazing

SKIMBLEDOTS IS REAL TY ZAMB AND MICHELLE FOR FEEDING ME SKIMBLEDOTS CONTENT

literally they are the fucking cutest skimbledots

Kade's Tugger is honestly now in my top three Tugger's, and about 50% of that is because i got to talk to him at the stage door and he was the nicest person

but seriously, his Tugger reminded me SO much of John Partridge's Tugger, he was such a rockstar, and his voice is so good

ofc I have to mention the Tugger and Misto dance, they were giving "everyone look at my best friend because my best friend is better than all of you" and that's so valid

also it was adorable but before Tugger's last moment when everyone's gathered around him, Demeter trips him a little and just gives him a little "who, me?" look when he looks at her, and that's what makes him shoo everyone away

Hank and Nora said Tugmeter are best friends rights and once again i am validated

god Nora's version of Demeter is so soft and sympathetic towards Grizabella, and it's honestly heartbreakingly beautiful

This Demeter felt like a younger sister compared to Bombalurina, so once again, ty to Nora for supporting my hcs

tbh even if I don't ship it this tour is really saying demebombalonzostrap rights

Tugger was trying to get Deuteronomy's attention when he arrived, and had to give himself a lil pep talk before greeting him 😭 that's his DAD

literally every single one of my hcs are being so validated by this cast

Tumblebrutus was SUCH a big brother to Pouncival, always making sure he was having fun and it made my heart explode

Tugger gave Mistoffelees a cute lil nudge during the ball, there were so many little moments like that between them, just playful, silly moments and i'm 😭😭😭😭

like this cast really made it more prominent that this is Victoria and Plato's Ball, because everyone was paying a little extra special attention to them, whether it was greeting them, dancing in front of them, or just watching them, and i loved that so much

Plato shared a fist bump with Tumblebrutus and Pouncival before they did their section of the dance at the ball 😭

SKIMBLEDAD SKIMBLEDAD SKIMBLEDAD

Mungojerrie got scared by Grizabella so he cuddled into Skimbleshanks' leg that's his DAD

Tayler did these little gasps as she did the dance before "Memory", and i can't remember if she's done those in the past times that i've seen her, but they added so much to the moment, because it felt like she was either trying to remember the moves, or she was hurt.

Act 2:

Sillabub seemed started by the fact that she was singing during “moments of happiness”, which i thought was a really great touch

overall, I loved Sam's Sillabub so much, she was so sweet, and her voice was gorgeous

Brian Mungo is the Most Mungo to ever Mungo

I'm so happy that Babysitter Plato is one of the decisions that's stuck around, I love seeing Plato minding the kitten trio and just being the best big brother to them

he and Tori were also cuddling together during Gus' song 😭

Jenny and Skimble snuggled during Gus’ song, and first Jenny was laying her head on Skimble’s leg, and then they switched so he was resting on her leg, and I sobbed

and then Tugger and Misto cuddling together during Pekes and Pollicles. That’s it, that’s the post.

Tugger kept trying to hit the pompom on the dog head the queens were wearing

I'm in awe of Erica's voice. She is SUCH a powerful Bomba

Nora has the most unique, gorgeous voice, and their performance during Macavity was one of my favorites, honestly. The way Nora and Erica's voices blended during the song gave me chills

Nora’s Demeter gave me “just joined the Jellicles” vibes. Like, her wig’s a little more wild, and she’s a little more hesitant, and the way she sang during Macavity was more boastful than fearful. I honestly loved this version of Dem, SUCH a good take ngl

like the way Demeter and Munkustrap interacted was very much a "we've only met recently but oh i think i'm falling in love with you" and once again SUCH a good Demestrap take

Nora also played Demeter VERY skittish, and it was honestly heartbreaking watching her during the Macavity fight, she was absolutely terrified

BUT she also protected Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer!!! they were near her and she moved them over to the side

honestly Jerrie and Teazer gave me more 2019 vibes, like they had also just joined the tribe recently

Sammy's Alonzo was SO good, and I loved his moment of preparing himself to face Macavity

MUNK WAS STRUGGLING TO GET UP AFTER THE MACAVITY FIGHT AND DEMETER HELPED HIM BY PUTTING HIS ARM AROUND HER NECK UP I’M SOBBING

When Tugger said “you ought to ask magical mr Mistoffelees” Deméter got startled 😭 and Munkustrap was so concerned about her

Tugger got so excited when Misto brought Deut back, he had to take a moment compose himself which was ADORABLE

They also did like a lil handshake before the final part of the song which was also VERY CUTE

God Tayler is just so so good as Griz

#uppast's tour comments #cats the musical #cats us tour 6

[tyunkus]

HI KUMI

ur so cool i hope u know

i too also want to publish my writing but do not know how tf to operate tumblr so! LIKE HOW DO PPL MAKE MASTERLISTS IM FR GOINF CFAZY??? 🥺💞💖💕💗💝💓💘🙂🙂🙂🙂

anyways .. amazon wishlist fic was top tier thanks for evicting that fist bite worthy document of writing from the drafts!!!<3

like i cannot thank u enough for finally ending the taehyun drought on this app dude 😭😭 i had to DIG to find hard thoughts / fics for him which is actually so sad cause he’s so sexy??????? like look at him he’s so smut fanfic coded ESP w a personality like that 😾😾 and now i have tyun content to read thru on a regular basis imso happy THE WORLD/ TUMBLR NEEDS MORE SOLOMONS u guys are fr the best :-)

🙏🙏will forever be grateful i got bored and decided to just look through the txt smut tag which did u know!!! u were like the first fic that came up. it’s so cool

GOD RHIS MESSAGE IS LONG AS HELL like my bad ummm anyways this ask was actually supposed to be for a hard thought but i had too much to say to u like a crazy person so im gnna submit another ask like whoops 😁☝️

HELLO LOVELY this is the sweetest cutest nicest ask ever you deserve everything IM SO GLAD THAT YOU LIKE MY STUFF AHH! AND YEAH DUDE masterlists seem so time consuming n tiring god but i will have to do it eventually i fear.. M SO HAPPY THAT I COULD PROVIDE SEXY TYUN CONTENT FOR YOU HEHEHEHEH if you do end up writing PLEASEEEE let me know so i can follow u and we can be delusional together thank you smmm <333 and yes pls send ur hard thoughts hehe

[factorialsfandoms]

I liked this update (but then again, I like all the updates). Hyrule was so cute! And Warriors was being very strong (but will we get to see him break down and be comforted?)

I think the next episode could go a couple ways:

Wild and Four talk. (I’m just waiting for the moment Four admits to splitting into four people and Wild’s just like “wait… that was real?!”)

We hear from the other Sky, Legend, and Wind. (Can you just imagine Sky and Legend comforting Wind as they tuck him into bed? That would be so adorable!)

Twilight gets corrupted. I figure he might wake up and attack whoever is sitting with him, probably Time and Hyrule, then escape out the window.

Twilight in a dreamscape. Maybe we’ll get Twilight in a dream fighting back against the darkness in his blood. Presumably this would end up with Twilight winning.

I very much don’t think Twi will die. Jojo likes him too much. It seems like it would be too easy though if Twilight magically got healed overnight (unless there’s a dreamscape sequence where he's fighting it). But having have a corruption arc is a big commitment. If he did, it could easily be another year or two (for us) before Twilight was back healthy and on the side of the light. I don’t have any problem with that (I’m a writer, I understand how stories work), but I know a lot of folks are getting tired of Twi being near death for like a year (I hope they realize that this could be only the beginning).

~ 🌲

I don't know if we'll get to, but yes! He should get a chance to have a break too. One way or the other. Break down, holiday-break, who knows!

All of your ideas make sense.

Please take the following as a criticism of my brain and not of Jojo or LU or any other artistic work, and you are correct in how stories work, etc etc etc. But I can't really talk about opinions on the update more (and why I'll cling to basically anything that isn't the ongoing plot with Twilight) without trying to explain my brain a bit.

I'll be honest I just don't really... enjoy things with ongoing plot as much? Just generally. Its still fun, but I forget things, I get tired or bored, and sunset in general just has not been nearly as enjoyable for me as short self-contained comics. This is absolutely a personal preference thing and not a problem with the story at all! And you mustn't and can't rush people. But its the same thing with fic - ongoing fic I really struggle, though long complete fic is fine. I can watch an entire TV series through, but waiting for episodes I just... Reach a point where I forget? It's been the same since I was a small kid, and its absolutely no fault of Jojo's that she's taking time with a very significant plot point (no matter what happens next things will shift a /lot/).

Also while I think corruption isn't unlikely I just don't like corruption stories as a matter of taste and so am pretending I don't read that option when I see it xD

In the nicest way possible I literally could not care about ongoing LU plot and never have, I just… like the comics where the boys are just… hanging out, for want of better terminology?

And I absolutely am still enjoying this and it 200% is literally just my personal preferences and tastes, and everyone has different ways in which they enjoy media and types they like. It is not a criticism of Jojo or any ongoing work creator or anyone who likes or makes corruption arcs, they just... aren't my preferred flavour? I've never had much patience in my media. Books I love I've never read the sequels to simply because they weren't released when I read it and in one case 3 weeks was too long to wait. This is absolutely a my brain problem, but you can imagine what a year of the same plot is doing to me. ^^; Its very good content! I'm just in the category of people fed up with it (but then I've been fed up with it since I got here, always going "it must be over soon right this is so many more parts than any previous single title", and I'm still here, and I'm still finding ways to have fun).

Honestly I have the same problem writing anything longer than a single-sitting oneshot. As soon as I've looked away from a thing, its incredibly hard for me to look back. Even if it was just I went to have dinner - hyperfocus is a tricky master. That I can go months, see an LU update, and enjoy it is actually extremely unusual and a testament to it being good.

However before I finish I want to offer you a tasty idea I have been stewing over in my brain a bit - Twilight dream sequence. He succeeds in saving his own life and fighting back to not be destroyed, but fails at the last hurdle to not be possessed (or whatever). That, or he develops a long term every night he has to fight /again/ (and one day he will slip up, just there'll be a bit where he appears to have recovered bar understandable "nightmares" in between before he does).

I'll be honest I sway towards dream sequence because the last page or so /looks/ like the start of a dream sequence.

2 would however be adorable. 1... I do expect we'll see 1, but not for a /long/ time. I tend towards thinking that the "core" problem of Twilight needs resolving before that gets tackled.

... And now you got me rambling.

#evergreen anon #ask and answer #factorial bitches about factorials brain being a mean asshole #and not letting him enjoy ongoing projects in 99% of cases #like at all #i probably have (unmedicated) adhd wrecking my ability to get on with ongoing things #however #the meds for it would all fuck up my other health conditions more than they are #in “could very well kill me” sorts of ways #so I guess I'm just stuck with this #I tried the memory clinic and the neurologist and they both said not their problem

[ofgentleresolve]

8 for mana, 11 for patrick, 7 for lee, and 3 for any muse!

@voxvulgi || another munday meme i am late on 😅 ( multimuse opinion corner prompt. )

8. do you have multiple verses? ( i accidentally answered 8 on the canon muses side instead of the ocs RIP I'M SORRY SARA 🥲 )

you know, for someone who's been my muse for a while, i actually?? don't have as many aus for that are currently running. i mean, if we include her previous incarnations...like for example, she did start out as an ace a*ttorney oc initially so technically she had an aa verse. she also did have a vigilante verse at one point too, BUT i took that one down bc as she is now, it doesn't make sense for mana to resort to violence 😌

i would say she has more verses ( much like calum ) in the fact that i can play her at multiple points in her canonical timeline....it's simply that for example, mana before she comes to terms with daniel's passing is different enough from her main verse that i would need to make a distinction between the two versions of mana.

tldr; not really, but also low key yes fjskldjfls

11. what’s something that you don’t get to express with your oc often?

with patrick in particular, it's anger. like he's a mellow person to begin, but you know what they say- the nicest people are also the scariest people to piss off...and that very much applies to patrick. like much of what happens, his default is sadness and composure. HOWEVER, after felicity is truly dead, there is a moment where he confronts his biological dad and let's just say, his bio dad says some things that like, makes patrick completely lose it for a moment :/

i will say though, i guess his au version ( myungdae ) does show anger over the situation he’s been thrown into and can’t really get out of...but since he has so many things to juggle in his life, there hasn’t really been a space for him to actually express that without feeling some kind of guilt 🙃 so uh...i guess eventually i’ll get to explore anger there as well, since he’s repeatedly pushing that down along with almost every other emotion he’s been feeling 🙃

7. are they canon divergent?

YEP. in their canon, K ( i gave them the real name ga-ram ) actually dies in the middle of the series and i was SO SALTY about that since they were such a fascinating character to me along with the world building...lots of potential lost by axing him :’(

and since there didn’t seem to be a ton of content exploring him in the fandom and bc i wanted more content of them...i decided to write it for myself <3 the nice thing about them too is that because he wasn’t explored heavily in the devil judge is that i can take him in any direction i want...and it can’t be considered ooc 😌

big shout out to alex ( @jeoseungsaja​ ) for recommending the show to me!!

3. do you have any npcs you’d like to talk about more?

i’d say robin from lam’s story, but that’s kind of a messy topic for both me and him...i think for now i’m content with displaying her through lam’s eyes at the moment 😌

oh!! but i WOULD love to talk more about ga ram relationship with yo han ( the MC of the devil judge ) since i do?? have a few ideas about what their relationship looked like and how it grew over the years!!

#voxvulgi #( about ferre. ) #everything changes everybody changes ( answered. ) #thanks for sending in sara!! <3 #as you can see....i like to ramble sometimes :'D

[bosskie]

Hi again! When I saw all the content disappeared from your blog I was so worried and felt sad all day, but I'm really relieved to know it was your decision... Of course you can take yourself all the time you want, I understand it's really hard to deal with a problem like yours, and I surely am a patient person. It often takes patience for the best things to come out, and to enjoy them the most. I wish you all the best. P.S. Your art has much more soul than many things I've seen on the web.

Hi! I’m so sorry if I caused worry and sadness to you. I’m used to that no one cares/notices if I take my content away or at least no one has ever said anything about it since I have done this multiple times over the years. But I notice that people really seem to like my stuff here so I wanted to tell what’s going on because I don’t wanna worry anyone. This is like the nicest place where I have ever posted my stuff and it’s thanks to you all lovely people!

My self-hatred has made me want to delete this blog a few times already but that would be a win for my self-hatred and I don’t want it to win this fight. (The first time was a bit before I did my first post but for some reason I got my first followers at that moment, so it prevented me doing it because I don’t wanna upset you who like my stuff.) So hiding is like a soft version of that since it’s nothing permanent. For years, I have felt that if I try to interact with people, I just ruin things and have to shame myself. I know that it’s a false thought but it doesn’t help. But that’s why I don’t really wanna leave my mark to anything, to be forgotten easily. I have grown with my self-hatred, from child to adult, so it has quite deep roots in me. I have had a supportive and loving family, I have been awarded as one of the best (top 3) students twice (before leaving primary school and high school), my grades have opened me the doors I have wanted when it comes to university (I really thought that I have so awful papers that I will never get to university but I have done it more than once. I literally cried two days when I got to university for the first time. I was so happy and surprised), and my art has been admired since a child, but despite of them, I have low self-esteem. I think that I suffer from impostor syndrome.

I have grown with a thought that everything would be better without me. I really don’t know why. But I’m trying to survive since I know that it’s not true and it would be the worst thing to my family. They have kept me alive since I don’t wanna cause such sadness to my lovely family. I know that my mental health problems are severe but I have never seeked help because I have wanted to survive on my own and I have succeed. But these setbacks still make me wonder if I really should seek professional help but I’m still not sure because I know that their purpose is try to make me ask the right questions from myself and I’m the key, not them. Well, I at least have Molluck now and he has improved my mental health significantly, as odd as it can sound. It’s weird that I love Molluck because he is so much like me but I can’t love myself... Brains are odd fellas (says brain to itself...).

Man, writing this made me cry a few times. Telling this stuff has never really helped me before since nobody has seemed to care and it has made me feel even worse and so lonely. It’s heavy to deal with all this awful stuff alone. That’s why I really appreciate and value your messages. It’s not easy to put my feelings into words but they have reminded me of that I’m not that person my self-hatred wants me to believe. It really has surprised me how supportive people can be found here. Like, I didn’t expect that my Molluck thing and stuff would get support like this. I know how hard it can be to tell someone things, especially if they are unknown to you in person, so therefore I really value every comment and message I have gotten. But of course, I don’t mean all types of comments, but you get my point.

When I look at my art, I see myself in it. Therefore my drawings/paintings are like mirrors to me, and sometimes I don’t even wanna see myself from the mirror, so that’s why I gotta take my art away sometimes and why it relieves me. I may have a deep way to see things but it’s also a part of my world view since I’m spiritual and it has been so since a child because it’s something innate. I have mentioned on my Oddworld Twitter that I have some ‘supernatural skills’ like forecasting. Yes, I have seen the future in my dreams and have a strong intuition that has forecasted things to me too. Those dreams about the future relate to pretty ordinary things, like the last one was about that I have four new notes on Tumblr when I wake up and when I went to check this site, it was true. I have had them so many times that they can’t be a coincidence. Yeah, this is also why I talk about soul. I’m also an old soul and it’s a significant part of me. I have said that I see myself as ugly inside and it relates to that ‘soulless’ thing I see in my art. Your words strengthen to me that there is something that blocks me to see all the good things in me and I see it as a hole, a missing part which makes me see my art as soulless too.

~Thank you for your lovely words, listening and understanding! I wish all the best to you too!

[n0vad]

[3:00 AM] [RAN] [SFW]

There’s a loud knocking on your door that startles you awake. You groan and throw the blankets off of yourself, going to answer the door for your idiot of a boyfriend. As an extra precaution, you peek through the peephole to confirm your thoughts and then open the door.

“Hey sweetheart, your bedhead looks cute.” Your boyfriend flirts, his usual lazy smirk plastered on his pretty face. If he weren’t so handsome, you would slam the door in his face. 

“Ran, you look like you got hit by a truck.” He chuckles and pulls you into a tight hug, the kind where he’s afraid that if he lets go, he’ll lose you. A few seconds pass in silence, the both of you holding each other tightly with an unspoken need to be together. Reluctantly, you pull away and begin to question him about his current condition.

“God, Ran, look at those bruises on your face, and the ones on your arms. How did this happen?” Gently, you take his right arm and lightly brush your fingers across the multitude of bruises littering his pale skin. As he explains the fight (with his added comedic input), you begin to carefully clean up whatever you can, trying to avoid hurting him any further.

As he finishes telling his story, you ask him, “where’s Rin? Is he okay?” Your concern for his brother seems to stop him in his tracks as he pauses for a moment to process the question.

“He’s fine, he went home.” His response is unusually blunt and if it weren’t for the way he’s looking at you with pure love and adoration in his eyes, you would assume he was mad at your concern.

“What’s that look for?” You ask with a small smile before placing a quick peck on his cheek. He answers without hesitation, “you’re just so absolutely perfect.”

“Why am I perfect?” You shoot him a teasing smile along with the question.

“You don’t just care about me; you also care about my brother, you’re the nicest person I’ve ever met, and you’re hot, which is a bonus for me.” Somehow, you’re not surprised that he went from being sentimental to flirting with you, but even after all this time he still manages to make you flustered. 

“Don’t dump lovey-dovey bullshit on me and expect me to just forgive you for scaring me like this every night,” you huff, walking off to put away the first-aid kit. He follows you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry baby, I never mean to scare you.” He mumbles into the crook of your neck before placing a soft kiss on the skin.

“I know, I know. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You feel him grin against your neck and his grip on your waist tightens slightly. You roll your eyes and lean back into his chest, content with knowing that he’s back in your arms tonight, instead of meeting the cold embrace of death’s.

#THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG #ran haitani #ran haitani x reader #ran x reader #ran fluff #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev fluff #tokyo rev x reader

[yhwhsdaughter]

Eunuch! Bum x Queen! Reader + King! Sangwoo

word count: 4.1k

tw: sangwoo, noncon, abuse of power, misogyny, murder, cheating, degradation, choking, cursing, minors dni

Ongoing…

[Chapter 2] , [Chapter 3]

Upon sliding the doors open, you were welcomed to blood spraying on your face. Droplets kissed your cheeks and if it was a calmer atmosphere, it would give the illusion of a blush. Reality, however, was much horrifying. Shocked by this, you stopped to assess the scene. Everyone was afraid to move a muscle as the king swung his sword, killing the chief state councilor with a stroke. As his body fell, more blood puddled at your feet, staining your slippers. Once the initial horror faded, you sprang forward, hugging Sangwoo’s midriff. “Your Majesty! Please stop this!” It was a brave or perhaps foolish action, interfering with your ruler. Words falling on deaf ears, he pushed you from him. The closest guard caught your form. Despite his absolute authority, killing nobles without reason, especially high ranking officers, was frowned on.

This is madness.

Your king was beauteous and cruel. A month into his ascension to the throne and he was already crumbling the ideals in which this nation was founded. Stray hairs hung around his chiseled face, tiny beads of sweat mixed with blood giving him a sadistic gleam as he grinned. Looking your way for a moment, he lazily waved at guards, “Take the Queen to her room.” Without a choice, the two of them gently nudged you from the scene. “Your Highness, please follow us.” Though their faces remained unmoving, their tone revealed their true feelings on the matter. Palm pressed against your mouth, you threw one last glance at the massacre before you. Blinking any lingering emotions, you walked away.

—

Pants filled the room as Sangwoo thrusted into you relentlessly. He was angry; even though he’d appointed new council members, he wasn’t sure he could trust them. In his mind, everyone was after his crown. You were angry as well, but for an entirely different reason.

You laid bare before your king, the fine robes that adorned your body pushed aside revealed your soft breasts; legs spread showed the path to your royal cunt. It disgusted you, thinking how many women had been in this bed, in your same position. Though the silk sheets were pristine, it could never truly wash away the sin. He grunted, “Stop overthinking. Just focus on—” he was close “—taking my seed, it’s all that matters.” Uncaring about your pleasure, Sangwoo bent you into an uncomfortable position, one that allowed his member to penetrate your walls at a deeper angle.

You allowed it.

The two of you, mostly you, were under incredible pressure to conceive. Not just a child, but a male heir. The fact that you hadn’t produced a son for the king was worrying to your mother. She wrote, often. It’s all she could talk about in her letters nowadays; there was fear in her that you would suffer as she did. Four miscarriages, three stillbirths, and then you. Highly superstitious, your mother believed that her misfortune was the price for the murder of the heirs by concubines in a fit of jealousy.

“Put a baby in me Sangwoo.”

You nearly begged, if only to end this. Making love wasn’t an option, nor your life a fairytale. No. King Sangwoo only fucked, and in the most inconvenient places too. You’ll never forget the embarrassment endured when you had tea with several noblewomen; your gracious king thought it would be appropriate to do it in a room adjacent to theirs. He bent you over a desk, throwing everything else off it, before sheathing himself inside of you. Emerging twenty minutes later, you couldn’t even look the ladies in the eyes. No one said anything, lest they lose their heads, but they knew.

Spurred by your words, Sangwoo thrusted faster and harder. “Fuuuck.” He stayed attached to you, like a dog, making sure your womb swallowed every last bit of his essence before pulling out. “Get pregnant.” Is all he said to you as he dressed again and exited the chambers. Out of breath and without a care, you laid there on the bed.

—

A life of servitude awaited YoonBum the second he was born. His poverty stricken parents sold him to be a household slave. Doomed to this fate, Bum tried his best to follow through and avoid punishments. Unfortunately, his master was a sadist and everyday, he received a beating.

After running errands, Bum stood in line to receive the bags of rice his master had ordered. It was the last thing on his list before readying to go home and continue working. Being close by, he couldn’t help but overhear several gentlemen talking, “Where is that damned village?!”

The village in question, it seems, was Bum’s hometown. Because it was a tiny place full of peasants and criminals, cartographers didn’t bother putting it on a map. Only those that came from there knew the area. Sangwoo caught him staring. Quickly glancing away, Bum only saw the man motioning to his companions from the corner of his eye. In a matter of seconds, he was facing the man. He was dressed in purple robes and a gat, symbolizing his status. “Do you know where this village is?”

Daring not to look him in the eye, Bum was slow to nod. He’d been out long enough; his master was probably marching towards the market to drag him home. “Show me.” As guessed, a heavy man came barreling in their direction. He was red in the face. “Bum!” Master Yoon screamed obscenities. Coming to a stop, he sneered at the men.

“We need your servant.”

Though the statement seemed like a request, Sangwoo’s tone made it clear that it was an order. The balding man huffed, ready to curse him out and refuse when Sangwoo showed his name tag. It was made of a cool stone, Oh Sangwoo engraved with the royal crest. The fact that was once red turned pale in realization. Meek before his ruler, Mister Yoon had no choice but to relent. “We’ll be taking him then.”

Bum felt his humanity slip away as he was given to another man so easily. With his head bowed down, he followed this strange new path forged by the man in purple robes.

—

The Heavens decided to smile on YoonBum when he saved the king’s life.

It was an accident, really. The guards felt no threat to the approaching figure in the form of a frail, old lady who was an assassin in disguise. YoonBum saw the knife before they did, jumping in front of Sangwoo.

Adrenaline in his system, Bum didn’t realize he was stabbed till he felt warmth seeping through his rags. Looking down, red spread around the area. It hurt. Badly. Bum’s legs felt like noodles; the little energy he had left his body as he collapsed onto the dirt. Even breathing was painful. His intervention set things in motion. One of the bodyguards chased down the assassin, two stood by Sangwoo and another leant down to help him. He must’ve asked something important but Bum couldn’t hear him clearly. It’s like he was submerged underwater. The last thing he saw before his vision turned black, was Sangwoo staring at him with interest.

He woke up in the nicest room he’s ever been.

The king didn’t visit him personally but he was sent a letter. Red overtook his face as he was forced to admit he didn’t know how to read. The servant relayed the contents, stating that when he was recovered, he would serve the king closely. From someone of his birth, it was the best he could get. YoonBum suddenly felt immensely grateful; he would no longer sleep in a shed with the pigs but a real mat! The pain on his side reminded him of the price he’d paid for this position, but he was used to being hurt. At least now it served to help him.

As the moment of glee passed, Bum realized he didn’t quite know the etiquette of serving the king. Joy left his body as he wondered how he would figure it out.

Like him, Sangwoo was plagued by this constant state of unhappiness. After the attempt on his life, he would think his subjects would be glad to see him breathing but instead he got murmurs of concern. What if he’d died? Who would’ve taken the throne since there was no heir? It would’ve thrown the palace into chaos.

Their silent pleas did not go unheard. “Maybe I should have them killed. Them and their entire families—” he paused when he saw you in the gardens, smiling at one of your ladies. His heart twisted. Sangwoo couldn’t explain it, but he always got the urge to inflict pain on you. He could say it stemmed from a place of resentment. How hard was it to get pregnant? If you gave him a son, he wouldn’t be pestered by these old fucks. Not to mention, your face contorting in distress was intoxicating—not even the concubines could compete with that.

Beneath his robes, his cock twitched with excitement. Oh, how he was going to enjoy this. Approaching your unsuspecting figure, he threw a dazzling smile to your courtesans. Sangwoo knew how to use his assets advantageously. Despite the suffering he caused, people were rendered speechless by his charm and good-looks.

He was like a snake, slithering towards his prey, waiting to attack. You did not hear him coming till you saw your ladies-in-waiting bowing. Greeting him appropriately, you expressed your relief. “Your Highness, I am glad to see you unharmed.”

It’d been a while since you last saw him; when he arrived, the rumour about the assassin spread like wildfire. “My Queen, you are truly a vision. These flowers have nothing on your beauty. You are proof that absence makes the heart grow fonder.” His honeyed words felt like prodding the bees’ nest. If you weren’t careful, you would be stung.

The only times he was this affectionate was when he wanted something. He played the same lovestruck role with your father to convince him of marrying you. Sending your ladies off, Sangwoo dropped his smile. His expression was replaced with desperation. Pulling on your wrist, the two of you traversed to your quarters since they were closer. “Ah!” Thrown harshly onto the bed, you hardly had time to compose yourself before he was mounting you. “Let’s put your cursed womb to good use.” A gasp escaped your lips as he entered you without warning. Your hands formed to fists, grabbing onto the sheets for dear life. It hurts, it hurts!

“Your Majesty! Please— aaah! Be more gentle..!”

Without seeing his face, you could already picture his cruel smirk. “You were born a disappointment. The least you could do is serve your purpose as my wife and bear me an heir.” His words angered you. Managing to twist away, you tried to escape his iron grip. This only resulted in you being pushed onto your back. Sangwoo pried your legs open and realigned himself.

Slap!

Sangwoo’s eyes widened with disbelief. The stinging in his cheek somehow made his pulse beat faster. Hands wrapping around your throat, he squeezed. “You should treat your king with more reverence. It would be a shame if the nation lost its queen. Especially one who can be easily replaced.” Having been the youngest war general, Sangwoo had strength to spare. Your hands seemed small as they banged on his form, silently begging to release you.

Having your life in his hands gave him the edge he needed to cum. With a low moan, Sangwoo emptied himself inside you. In turn, you couldn’t even focus on anything else other than breathing, choking as you gasped for air that you’d previously been deprived of. Knowing that he was capable of committing the worst, death seemed better than staying by his side.

“Perhaps I am not the problem, Your Majesty.”

Your voice was raspy but it rang clear across his majesty’s mind. Your words struck deep, like a knife embedded in his brain. It created a wound that would eventually fester. “Shut up.”

As if to disprove your point, he visited every concubine, not leaving until none of them were left untouched. He needed a son, one way or another, and if you wouldn’t give it to him, he would seek it elsewhere.

—

YoonBum was mostly healed; if anything, it appeared he’d been forgotten after a week of rest. The medic was currently tending to his wound, “It's healing nicely. A few more days and you should be out of here.”

The two of them turned at the sound of the door sliding open, immediately bowing at Her Highness’ entrance.

“Your Majesty, how can I be of use?” It was a bit surprising to see you there; your medical checkup wasn’t till another month. He wondered if you were feeling ill. Fabric wrapped around your neck; the weather was tepid, even inside the palace. That’s when he noticed the purple marks that peeked from under the material. Aware of his pointed stare, you moved the scarf upwards to conceal it. “I need you to acquire these medicinal herbs for me.” Taking the list, he read it carefully. How odd. Before he could ask what they were for, you added, “Your discretion would be appreciated.”

“Of course.”

Bum sat there silently, head facing the floor when you acknowledged him. “Are you the man that saved my husband?” Snapping upwards, he sputtered before letting out a quick “Yes!” Finally having a chance to gaze at your face, Bum felt himself turning red. Dressed in the finest silks from head to toe, standing with an air of regalness, was you. Unlike the king, there was warmth in you. Being in the presence of such a being felt unreal.

At first glance, the young man seemed no different than the other servants. However, his pink cheeks reminded you of innocence that one so rarely saw in the palace, which was filled with betrayal and resentment. His disposition was kind of endearing. You hoped he would remain like this, untainted by the world. “Then I must thank you.”

At your words, Bum’s figure lowered, forehead touching the wood. “Y-your Highness is too kind!” This position caused him a stab of discomfort, applying pressure to his wound yet he refused to straighten up. Noticing, you motioned at him, “Don’t force yourself.”

With that brief interaction, you were gone.

Entering your chambers, you signaled for the maid. Unwrapping the silk bandages, you stared at the mirror. Your husband’s marks served as a reminder of who held the power in this union. The young woman kneeled before you, taking a round brush and rolling it in powder. Although her ministrations were gentle, you couldn’t help but hiss when it applied pressure to your tender skin. “Forgive this servant, Your Majesty!”

“Don’t mind it. Continue.”

—

The king was anxious.

It was one thing for you to not get pregnant, but he’d been keeping busy and there was still no news of concubines with child. Reminded and bothered by your words, he summoned the royal physician. Sangwoo believed he wasn’t the problem, he just needed confirmation. What did you know? He wanted an expert to say that he was fulfilling his duties as king and it was everybody else that lacked.

“I’m sorry to say this, Your Highness.. but you’re infertile.”

With great effort, Sangwoo stopped himself from strangulating the doctor. It was impossible. A frown etched itself in Sangwoo’s face, his handsome features twisting into something scary. “You’re wrong.” It didn’t make sense; as a healthy male in his prime, Sangwoo shouldn’t have a problem fathering as many children as he could. There were several causes that may have caused his infertility, especially since he was a war general but the fact remained that he could not produce children.

Only an heir of royal blood could be king.

He forced the poor man to do every test available to ensure this. The result was the same. Again. And again. “You must not be doing your job right.” As the guards dragged the pleading man, a piece of paper fell from the medics’ robes during the struggle. Picking it up, Sangwoo recognized your handwriting.

“What’s this?”

There was temporary relief in the man’s face as Sangwoo stopped in front of him. “That.. the Queen requested a few me-medicinal herbs.” It didn’t sit right with Sangwoo. Why on earth would you need this shit? The physician seemed hesitant to answer his question. A rough push finally ushered him to say, “Alone these herbs are fine, but mixed..”

As requested, the herbs were delivered to you by the doctor’s assistant. The timing was perfect too. “Why didn’t your master deliver these himself?” Nervous, the boy stuttered a few excuses before asking for permission to leave. That should’ve raised flags in your head but you wanted the plan to work. You needed it to work.

The king had finally taken time out of his busy schedule to visit you, and not just to copulate. He was kind enough to accept your invitation to have a picnic at the pavilion. It was surrounded by a grand lake and vividly green trees; a true landscape.

Sangwoo arrived with a familiar man at his side. You realized you never asked for his name, though that was easily fixed when Sangwoo made a vague motion towards him. “That’s Bum.” He was dressed in green and Sangwoo in red. In comparison to their bright colors, you wore a soft pastel pink, denoting your sophisticated features.

Sitting down, you signaled the servant to begin pouring the soup. Sangwoo raised a brow, curious, “You’re not going to eat?” Listening to your response, a smile appeared on his face. “I wanted to make a special meal for Your Highness, from the bottom of my heart.” It was unnerving, the way he looked at you. Still, you never lost composure, waiting patiently for him. That is, until he asked Bum to lean down and try it. Obedient, the male did so without question. Eyes widening, you managed to stop Bum from tasting. Your hand held onto his wrist tightly—the spoon hovering centimeters from his lips. A few droplets spilled onto the wooden table. Sangwoo tilted his head to the side, innocent expression in tow. “Something wrong?”

Everything is wrong!

Sangwoo knew. You didn���t know how, but of this, you were sure. Fear is what he wanted and you weren’t going to give it to him. “This meat in this broth was especially prepared for His Royal Highness. It shouldn’t go to waste on someone else.” The tip of Bum’s ears burned from embarrassment. He was under the impression you were a benevolent queen; instead, he was reminded of his lowly status. Of course he couldn’t eat the expensive meat, a peasant like him wouldn’t know how to appreciate the flavor. The hurt on his face was evident but he turned to the king, awaiting further instructions. Sangwoo wasn’t fazed, “Don’t be silly.”

Taking the spoon, Sangwoo offered it to you.

You stared at it, unmoving. Sangwoo poked your lips, “Who else but the Queen would be worthy to try such delicacy?” He was baiting you, daring you to deny or confess. Neither was an option. Grabbing the spoon from him, you slowly opened your mouth and dropped the contents inside. Sangwoo’s eyes narrowed slightly but he said nothing. “Swallow.” Damn him to hell. Before you could do such a thing, a guard interrupted. Apparently there were news concerning Yang Seungbae, a traitor to the crown; he was spotted near a town on the outskirts of the forest.

Sangwoo hated him. More than anyone. That bastard was working hard to rally forces that would conspire against him. While things were peaceful at court, Sangwoo had felt a shift ever since the assassination attempt. His eye twitched in annoyance, though you weren’t entirely positive if it was because of Seungbae or the fact that he’d been interrupted. Sitting completely still, you watched as Sangwoo whispered to Bum before leaving. As soon as he was gone, you grabbed a handkerchief and spit out the soup. This action worries a few servants but you waved them off. “It’s cold.” They couldn’t understand as you ordered them to throw it, seeing as it was perfectly edible. Such a waste, disposing of such good meat.

Bum followed you like a lost puppy. The first night Sangwoo bedded him, YoonBum experienced true love. It wasn’t gentle; the king’s touch harbored no hatred but passion. Bum had never felt like that. It made him feel special; the ruler of the country placed his lips and strong hands on his skinny body. He had a queen, concubines, and still, he went to him. Elated couldn’t begin to describe how Bum felt. His feelings for his king were all-consuming. Since then, he’d made a promise to follow every order Sangwoo asked of him. Bum didn’t have anything against you, truly, but his loyalty laid with his king.

On their way back, they encountered Imperial Concubine Min Jieun. The crowd following her greeted you respectfully, and while she did so too, there was a triumphant smirk on her face. Nodding in acknowledgment, you continued walking, enjoying nature. The sun warmed your skin, making you forget about any worries, if only for a moment. Once the group was out of earshot, you glanced at your companion. “What was that about?” It was no secret how spoiled Min Jieun was; she was a woman of noble birth, groomed to perfection. That’s the facade she chose to wear instead of the power hungry bitch she was. Envy burned in every particle of her body. She wanted you out of the picture—she wanted to be queen and mother of Sangwoo’s children. Still, your position commanded respect. Your lady leaned in, whispering, “There’s rumors that she’s with child.”

“Oh.”

Bum watched your composed reaction with intrigue. He could understand if you held a grudge towards her. He did. You would always be first to the king, so he had to accept that. Bum knew it was the way things ran. However, he couldn’t say the same for the other concubines. They had the chance to bear Sangwoo’s child. Bum only wished he could do so too. Alas, this resentment made him feel guilty because the concubines were amicable women—well, except Min Jieun. He didn’t realize that they were shackled to this restrictive lifestyle; that they had no choice but to make the best of the situation.

“Is there something you want to say?”

Almost jumping at the sudden sound of your voice, Bum gazed around to see who you were talking to. Finding your clear eyes on him, he realized you’d seen through him. “Uh.. n-no, Your Majesty..”

“Say it.”

“How.. how does Your Majesty handle it?”

Though the question itself was vague, you got the gist. “Queens are expected to rise above such earthly emotions.” You had a solemn expression and the grip around your fan tightened, “Jealousy is futile.”

Nodding, Bum felt like he’d swallowed vinegar. This revelation left him in deep thought. Perhaps that was the difference between royals and peasants; possessiveness was quick to overtake him while you had to live with the knowledge that your husband would seek the company of others.

Hm, maybe he was right not to envy you.

—

“The Queen has fallen ill.”

It was so sudden; you were so healthy one day and the next, chills racked your body, fever uncontrollable. The court tried to be positive on the matter but it wasn’t looking good. Sangwoo was advised to refrain from visiting you—if he got sick too, it would affect the entire nation. “I will see my wife as I see fit.”

“Open the door and step aside.”

He was like an angel of death, entering with eerie calmness. Even through the soft curtains he could see your weakened form. You looked thinner, unable to eat. The physicians tried to get you to consume anything but it was just regurgitated in minutes.

The bed dipped under his weight as he sat next to you.

“Did you eat something bad?” He caressed your face, pushing hairs away that stuck due to the sweat. Fingers tightening on the blankets, you managed to open your mouth. “Congratulations.” Lips pale and cracked, you smiled sardonically. Sangwoo wasn’t expecting that reaction. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve heard news that Concubine Jieun is pregnant.”

A dark look crossed his face. “Is that so?” He stood, “Perhaps I should pay her a visit.” Though his tone was mocking, there was something bothering Sangwoo. Fortunately for the king, you were too woozy to think straight. Leaning down, Sangwoo placed a hand behind your neck, lifting you just a bit, enough to kiss your lips.

“Don’t die.”

#oh sangwoo #sangwoo x yoonbum #sangwoo x reader #sangwoo #yoonbum x you #yoonbum x y/n #yoonbum x reader #killing stalking yoonbum #killing stalking #ks yoonbum #ks sangwoo #yang seungbae #king x reader

[cherry-stained-blood]

YOU KNEW I WAS GONNA REQUEST SOMETHING BUT—

SOFT TANJIRO HEADCANONS PLEASE 🙏 As much as I enjoy Muzan content I love soft headcanons for characters.

soft tanjirou headcanons

Synopsis: Just some cute and adorable headcanons with the protagonist of demon slayer :D

Pairing: Tanjirou x GN!reader (they/them)

A/N: awww hello Chaos, hehe I shall deliver you your Tanjirou headcanons. I too enjoy soft headcanons a lot too, so enjoy your juice Tanjirou stans <3 (sorry that they are relatively short—)

TW: NONE HAHA NONE ITS ALL FLUFFY

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Oh bestie you’re in good hands

Like— not even joking, Tanjirou is probably one of if not THE NICEST person you’ll ever meet in this demon slaying world

He just seems like he type of person who constantly radiates good vibes

You most likely met him during a mission you both happened to share

And ever since then you’ve been traveling with the redhead!

He constantly checks your health and makes sure you’re okay

A simple “Are you okay? Let me help you,” is enough to for you to just absolutely melt

Did I forget to mention Nezuko absolutely adores you?

Tanjirou’s eyes gleam before him every-time he sees his kid sister play around with you

It makes him feel at ease, y’know?

He’s definitely very protective of you at times

You bet there’s one time where he had to protect you from a pervert and you kept him from beating the crap out of them too lol

It’s cliche but I find it endearing

BUT MOVING ON!!

You both also look out for each other whenever needed, you guys are a power duo in battle

If you’re seriously hurt, he’d drop whatever he’s doing and rush to help you

He just doesn’t want to see one of his friends in pain, if you’re hurt then he’s hurt :(

Now I’m just saying bestie— you should definitely play with his hair

Maybe even put a little braid in it, his hair might be a bit crusty from all the missions but nonetheless it’s mostly soft!

It’s actually quite a nice feeling to work through his hair, and Tanjirou enjoys the feeling too

Also, during the Wisteria house resting time is when you guys started to grow a bit closer

You both would do a lot together during that time, whether it was just idle chatter or playing around with Zenitsu and Inosuke!

You’re all just kids after all, it’s nice to feel young every once in a while when you’re not out demon slaying

But your moments with Tanjirou have been some of the greatest by far, without a doubt

You stood outside of the Wistera crest house, settling under one of the purple-flowered trees and gazed up at the night sky, knowing very well you’re safely guarded by the comforting smell of the beautiful violent flowers before you. You were enjoying your little moment to yourself, until you felt something— or rather, someone, shuffle beside you

You looked to your side to be met face-to-face with a particular sunny red-eyed friend, Tanjirou. You returned his friendly smile and looked back up at the night sky, and he so only followed after you. “The sky is very pretty, isn’t it, Y/N?” The scarred kid stated, making you hum and nod in agreement “Agreed, Tanjirou. It’s very nice to finally get to enjoy the stars without having to worry about crude flesh-eating demons y’know?” You said, slightly joking at the end of the sentence, which made your friend chuckle.

“Hey. Y/N?” Tanjirou spoke up, making you look at him in question. You faced him, only for you give off that signature smile of his. “Thank you, for traveling with me and Nezuko. It means a lot to the both of us.”

Suddenly, your heart started to pound relentlessly and your stomach had butterflies blossoming and fluttering around inside. You don’t know what it was in him that made your heart flutter, but you’re willing to accept this new feeling you’re getting with open arms. You smiled at him in return. “It’s not a problem, I don’t regret coming with you one bit.”

You both were happy in each other’s presence, and the two of you wouldn’t want it any other way

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#demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer nezuko #demon slayer tanjiro #fluff #kny tanjiro #tanjiro kimetsu no yaiba #tanjiro x you #tanjiro x y/n #tanjiro x reader #x reader #reader insert #soft headcanons #fluff headcanons #tanjiro headcanons #kamado siblings #tanjiro fluff

[writernomore]

Can you do soulmate au headcannons for feral Bois + Wilbur please?

You are my Other half|| Feral boys + Wilbur

Please do not publish my work/ content to different websites and platforms, I only post my work here on tumblr and wattpad

A/n: I must say these were like the cutest ever QwQ

Gender Neutral! Reader

Dreamwastaken.

Okay for Dream's soulmate headcanons I like to picture that you have a specific sentence/ words written on your wrist that your soulmate would say to you.

Now, I like to think that you've met your soulmate but! You don't know that yet because of the words on your wrist.

Here's how the situation will go, so basically your a streamer (Naturally) and your friends with Dream! (Shocking :0) .

So you've recently been getting undeserved hate because of the way you play a certain game or people just don't seem to like you, sure there are your loyal fans cheering you up and all but there's just sometimes going to be someone who'd take their comments too far and it just gets to you.

So right now your on discord with Dream ( I don't if you guys want it to be the both of you are in face time so I'll leave this part vague so you can imagine which one you prefer.) and you are just venting/talking about your situation with Dream and you come to stop saying that you couldn't handle it anymore and that you didn't know what to do anymore.

Dream has experience to what your encountering, putting yourself out there and becoming a sort of influencer and gaining fame is that there will always be people to bring you down and love to see that they have left and effect on you.

" You don't need to listen to them, clearly, they don't know how amazing you are."

"Thank you Clay, you're really great too, I don't see why people seem to hate you too."

It was silent at first but then you came to a sudden realisation of the familiarity of the words Dream just told you, quickly pulling up your sleeve your eyes widen to the exact words Dream said imprinted on your wrist.

Looking up at your Monitor, you were breathless, there was a sudden change of mood and the both of you were just silent before Dream spoke once again.

"Hello, Soulmate."

Georgenotfound.

Okay, I think this one is cute but I always think Soulmate Au's are cute so here's George's Soulmate Au!

You have a clock timer to when you meet your soulmate and it's just the perfect one for this idea in my head.

So basically, your on your way to meet an online friend of yours, George or going by his online alias Georgenotfound.

You had been streaming for about a while now and you've met such wonderful people, along with George and other nice streamers on the platform.

You were looking out the window of your plane, as you were nearing to the UK, glancing down you notice the timer on your wrist had sped up and that it shows that you might meet your soulmate here in London.

You were ecstatic at the idea of meeting your soulmate at the airport, just like some cheesy RomCom you've watched before.

Going down the stairs of the airplane you go through scanning and you grab your luggage and look for George, taking out your phone you text him asking where he was and he texted back sending where he was standing, pocketing your phone your clock seems to have gone faster and that you might encounter your soulmate soon before you get to meet up with George.

Walking around you glance to see where George is, ocassionally looking at your wrist, but then you spot the man holding up a welcome sign you walk over to him but just as you were about a few feet away you put down your luggage and make a sprint running to him, to attack him in a hug.

10...

9....

8....

7....

6...

5....

4...

3..

2..

1..

You hug George as he carries you and spins you around, the both of you laughing as you look up at him and smile, it was finally that moment you got to meet him.

He sets you down and you look down to your wrist that your timer, you brush your hand over it and George grabs your wrist to look at it, as he examines it you look up at him in surprise, your soulmate was the person you were so desperate to meet.

He looks up at you and smiles even wider as he pulls up his sleeve and showing that the his timer to had gone off, he encases you in a hug and you chuckle wrapping you arms around his shoulder.

Sapnap.

Okay, so this one I like to make this that you and Sap are strangers in this one because, why not? And it would be perfect for the soulmate Au I chose for Sapnap.

Your Soulmate Au with Sapnap is You're deaf until you meet your Soulmate, and the first thing you'll be able to hear is their voice.

So here's how your situation goes, so given that your deaf, you had to learn ASL language to communicate with people(I make it that everyone has different Soulmate Au's, ex: your friend has the red string.) and it's sometimes hard to be able to get your bearings considering your deaf.

And hearing aids don't work as well, there's nothing you can do about it, so you just wait for your soulmate.

So, you're walking down the street after getting groceries, and you try to balance all the bags in your hand but they were to heavy and you were really desperate to not drop the groceries.

So you hug the groceries close to your body but you stiffen at the hand on your shoulder, you turn around to look at the person and they smile at you, raised their hands to sign if you needed help, dumbfounded you try to say something but you couldn't hear what you said but it was clear he did because he had this look of surprise.

And he puts a hand over his ear and looks at you and opens his mouth.

"Can you hear me?" You had the same expression he had but you nodded and then everything seemed to be clear and the both of you can hear sound now.

The two of you just talk to each other about anything you guys come up with relishing the sound of each others voice whilst carrying your groceries.

Karl Jacobs.

Okay, so for Karl's Soulmate thing I picked where your hair would be the same as your soulmates if they dye it and vice versa to your soulmate.

So basically you've had this love for gaming and you practically have been entertaining the idea of streaming, you loved people who play games whilst they streamed, talking to the people in chat and just making people's days.

And you happen to want to do the same, so basically you wanted to be exclusive with your appearance so you usually just turned your face cam off, but when you did people would gush about how nice your hair looked because of the colors you pick out.

Your streaming career had really gone well and you were quiet well known and was doing really well, the people loved you! (excluding the people who bash on you).

You've met really wonderful friends and they're just the nicest and most wonderful people!

And you have this friend named Karl he was really the best, you met him through Quackity and the two of you just really hit it off from the on.

Basically, you and Karl would be streaming later but there was a problem it was when you were with other people or felt the mood you'd turn on your camera but your soulmate decided to dye their hair and now you had the same exact color (awww and you were really growing into the old color too.)

So basically, when you got ready you joined the call with Karl(But you had your camera off) and the two of you were just playing and then you started ranting how your hair changed because your soulmate dyed their hair, Karl just comforted you and then when you were going to look at chat people wanted to see your hair so you went to open your face cam showing your hair, ruffling it a bit.

Unbeknownst to you, Karl happened to have opened your stream on his monitor, You went to talk again with Karl but he was silent for a while, then he smiled and went to talk about how he dyed his hair and he wanted to show the stream, you told him it was nice and was just oblivious to Karl's doing.

People kept on spamming your chat to check Karl's stream and so you did, you pulled up his stream and there he was, with his hair the same color as yours.

You started screaming and just yelled in disbelief letting out little chuckles, you went to cover your face with your hands and chat was ballistic (Both yours and his chat) .

Quackity.

Okay, so for Quackity I chose the one where you write on your skin it would also appear on your soulmate's (and vice versa).

So for this you use this as a form of communication since you don't know each other, it doesn't get personal but just little details about each other.

I have a feeling Quackity would draw penises as a form of prank and you'd have wash it off quickly because you know, it's embarassing but alas, you can't erase it.

It only happens to disappear after time or when your soulmate erases it.

So basically as payback to the little penises he draws you draw these shapes on your face, there are hearts, stars, and little doodles along with the words Kiss me!

It was all fun and games between you guys, and you wanted to share your little 'prank' on instagram, taking a picture of your self smiling and along with a caption saying how you pranked your soulmate.

After you had posted that you just decided to scroll through instagram smiling, but then your smiled had dropped and you saw someone posting a picture, their face having the same markings as you had drawn but you just didn't do anything and liked his picture.

But for a while it had been eating at you so you went to go and message him about being soulmates.

So you just resulted to doing it the old fashioned way and grabbing your marker and contemplating what to write, you decided to write your username and just left it at that hoping he'd check it out.

It was about a few minutes before your phone vibrated, opening you saw someone had DMed you, going on to instagram it was him!

You went to check out the message it said:

"I never knew my soulmate would be so beautiful/handsome."

"Hello to you too, Soulmate."

Wilbursoot.

Mister Soot, your soulmate Au with him would be that you have the same mark as your soulmate, it isn't some random shape but it's a specific mark that you and your soulmate would have.

I don't know how I'm going to be able to write this one so basically this is just how Wilbur found out you were his soulmate, Wilbur would be about a year or 3 older than you and it was your 21st birthday that when your soulmate mark would appear, Wilbur had already gotten his before you.

So the two of you are counting down by midnight in video chat talking and waiting for the clock to strike 12, you had been so excited, you've waited for 21 years for this moment to arrive, when the clock had striked 12 you quickly checked out what the mark was.

It was a white music note, it was cute and it was placed on your wrist, you smiled and look at Wilbur, raising you arm up to angle it so that the camera could see it and show Wilbur what the mark looked like, "Check out my soulmate mark." you found Wilbur silent but then he started giggling, "What's so funny?" You asked him frowning as you looked down to your wrist.

"I guess I finally found you, and you were just right under my nose." Wilbur giggled again.

You held a dumbfounded expression before looking down at your mark and back up again before shaking head, "I guess you found me." You said smiling.

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I'M SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG AND THAT I WAS INACTIVE FOR SO LONG😭😭.

But if you guys want, I have a discord server It was so that I could interact with the readers of my wattpad book but it could be that you guys could see what I'm working on! Discord server.

Anyways, if you guys like my writing, why not and consider giving me a follow? ;)

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