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unholyverse · 7 months

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waterparks // kerrang january 2018 #1705

(full article text under the cut)

LIFE COMES AT YOU FAST

The past couple of years have been such a whirlwind for Waterparks that the trio have barely had time to breathe. Beyond all the bluster and bravado, it's taken a private toll on Awsten Knight. On the eve of new album Entertainment, though, the frontman is ready to go again…

Words: Jennyfer J. Walker // Photos: Andrew Upovsky

A few years ago, Awsten Knight dropped out of college to focus on his band, Waterparks. To gain the funds to do so, he spent his time teaching guitar and babysitting. Today, the Texas-based trio—completed by guitarist Geoff Wigington and drummer Otto Wood—are one of the most in-demand young bands on the planet. The name Waterparks first became synonymous with more than just being a fun place to hang out in your swimming trunks in 2016, with the release of their debut album, Double Dare. And the three-piece have only gotten bigger since. After forming in 2011, they picked up Good Charlotte's Benji and Joel Madden as managers (and Benji as a producer), toured the world with All Time Low, sold out Camden's Underworld (4,846 miles from their hometown) in under an hour, and recorded second album Entertainment, which is out next week.

There have been personal moments that made Awsten realise he and his band have 'made it', too, like when he was awarded Tweeter Of The Year in the Kerrang! Readers' Poll ("That's literally just all the dumb shit I said on Twitter," he says, baffled as to why anyone would care about his caps-lock musings). Then there was the time a Japanese fan flew to a U.S. show, and turned up to meet Awsten looking exactly like Awsten…

"He was dressed just like me!" the singer says in more disbelief. "He dyed his hair blue and he had my necklace [the rainbow foot one]. He was straight-up me! And I was like, 'Oh my God, some guy in fucking Japan, who doesn't even know my language, likes my shit that much that he's dressed up like me… that's fucking awesome.'"

Ask Awsten to reflect on his band's success, to properly look back and take it all in, and he'll get uncomfortable.

"I don't really look back at stuff as much as I should…" he admits. "I feel like if I stop to think about any of that too hard, it would freak me out. So I think the best thing, at least for now, is to keep my head down and keep working as fast as I can and as hard as I can to keep it going."

And how do you feel when you're forced to reflect?

Before replying, he thinks for a second and exhales, making his lips vibrate.

"It kinda doesn't feel like it happened…When we got back from Japan I was just tired and laying there, and a week later I talked about it in an interview, and they were like, 'You just got back from Japan with All Time Low,' and I was like, 'Oh yeah! We did do that, huh?'" It doesn't feel…"—he thumbs through the pages of his brain dictionary, looking for the right words—"…it doesn't feel real."

The only time Awsten really nods to his achievements is within the blue walls of his childhood bedroom, where he's rested his head for the past 20 years, and is currently doing so while the band take their first proper break in two years. In between shelves crammed with DVDs, books ("because reading's tight") and his bed there's a nightstand. On the top sit a pack of Twizzlers and a pot of vitamins, and in the cubby hole below rests a stack of six or seven magazines, all of which have Awsten's face on the cover. He'll only take them out to properly look at when new ones arrive in the mail- there have been two this week - but he likes having them there, when he's in the room. "Being able to see those things is small," he says. "But it's enough to be like, 'Okay, cool.'"

[Image of the band walking around with the caption, "The gangs of New York aren't quite what they used to be."]

Awsten's aware that few bands take off like Waterparks have. It's a fact people remind him about often, including his friends and mentors Benji and Joel.

"They tell us, 'Your band is extremely special,' and I'll be like, 'Thank you so much!' I'm thankful to hear it…'"

The Maddens' elder brother Josh, meanwhile, has taught the frontman that it's important to take time for yourself in order to survive in any successful band. "Josh told me, There's Waterparks Awsten and there's Awsten Awsten. They're both the same guy, but you need to make sure both of them have the same love and care. It's tough to do…"

He lets out a brief laugh at what he's about to say. It's something he often does.

"Girls have accused me of being a workaholic before. It's still hard for me to answer when people ask, 'What do you do when you're not doing music?' I don't have that much to say…Which isn't a good sign of progress on that front, because it's what I'm doing all the time. If it's not for Waterparks, I'm working on music for somebody." He has, though, taken steps to care for poor neglected Awsten Awsten while he's been off tour. He's learned the importance of getting the recommended eight hours sleep and not staying up all night working on band stuff. He's started going to therapy. And he's training at a small boxing gym in downtown Houston.

"It's definitely a dumb-guy chemical thing, but Otto and I will go through phases where we're like, 'I just wanna fucking fight someone!' Pretty much the entire last tour I was in that mode. I thought, 'I better actually prepare and be good at this shit if it does happen!'" Now, one of the goals on his bucket list for 2018 is to win a boxing match.

Such drive means the frontman's never struggled to keep his eyes on the prize when it comes to Waterparks. As soon as our morning chat ends, Awsten says he'll start working on more music.

His self-assuredness and stronger-than-graphene vision for the band mean he's never had to fight to stay true to himself, either. He's more likely to walk into the record label and tell them what's what.

"Dude, honestly, I'm so fucking good at marketing!" he says, not-at-all modestly. "I've got a vision for us, and I know what we are. I'm aware what works and what doesn't. I'm a control freak, which I guess is a thing I should work on, but it's definitely kept things very true to who we are."

New album Entertainment is saturated with that same confidence, and the frontman says he feels no pressure whatsoever putting it out.

"When it was getting made, nobody knew [since it was done in secret], so they couldn't get hyped or anything. Now, if anybody wants to have expectations, it's already done. There's nothing I can do."

Doesn't a little part of you worry about whether people will like it?

"Not really," he says, shrugging his shoulders, "because I know it's good. Not to be cocky about it…I just think it's a very good album. There were songs I thought would make the record that didn't, which means everything on there is the best of the best."

The most confident man in rock does have one Kryptonite, though: his feelings. That became apparent three weeks before the release of Entertainment, when Awsten tweeted a picture of two pages from a spiral-bound notebook. On those pages was a handwritten letter, in his trademark caps, explaining that he'd gone off Waterparks' second record. The words were fairly cryptic, stating, "the last couple months have [been] weird, difficult, and everything else that sits in the realm of 'bad'. I lost a lot mentally and physically. Certain things happened and to be overly honest with you, Entertainment was ruined for me. I stopped listening to it, and felt weird to hype it in interviews. However, the worst part was the pure dread I felt thinking, 'Fuck. I still have to tour on this and sing these words every night.'"

Yet fans knew the note related to Awsten's break-up with his TV actress girlfriend, Ciara Hanna, the subject of much of the album's lyrics.

"I was glorifying people and things that I really don't fucking like and that really sucked," he says.

How did you feel about the future when those songs were ruined for you?

"Very fucking bleak!" he says. "I was like, 'Fuck, I'm ready to make another album, let's do that instead!'"

Would you have scrapped Entertainment if that was an option?

"There was a time that I would have said yes. But it's a piece of fucking art, and it would be a shame to let certain people or things ruin that."

In order to feel excited about the album again, Awsten had to change the meanings of the songs in his mind.

"My love songs are not about anyone now," he says. "They're just about love. And the dark places I was put in because of certain people or events? Those are stories. Every album is going to be a snapshot of where I was at that time."

Which explains why he thanks Ciara "for filling me with too many feelings" in the CD's thank you notes.

Quiz Awsten about which songs on the album are the most personal to him, and he'll say "the ones that make me go, 'Agh fuck!'" are Lucky People, Rare, TANTRUM, Crybaby and We Need To Talk.

"I try to keep my shit together around other people," he says when asked if there were any breakdowns in the vocal booth, "but the day Crybaby was made, that was one of the worst days of my life…" What was happening that day?

"I don't wanna talk about that, if that's okay," Awsten says meekly. "I feel like I give a lot to people, and some of the stuff that is written about on this album, I haven't told anybody about, 'cause it's just very… low, dark, personal shit. There are certain things that people don't need to know."

One song he is comfortable delving deeper into is diss track TANTRUM. An album highlight, it sees Awsten rant his frustrations away.

"TANTRUM's blunt as fuck!" he offers. "A lot of the stuff's metaphorical, but that one's like, This married guy tried to fuck my girlfriend and I'm gonna kill him when I see him!' I was like, 'I'll put his name in it, fuck it! I don't care."

We point out that when the guy in the song hears it, Awsten might just get that boxing match he's after…

"I just might, but I'm prepared," he says seriously.

As we wrap up our interview, Awsten's pouring his second coffee of the day, ready to resume being a workaholic. We ask how he's feeling after what's been a frankly terrible couple of months, and at the start of what's set to be the year of his career.

"I mean…" he pauses. "If someone has empathy and is able to feel certain things, like a functioning emotional brain- or in my case, maybe it's more emotional than it should be, I don't know yet—everyone is a work in progress."

He lets out a particularly-Texan "GOD DAMN!" and laughs at how corny he sounds.

"But everybody is literally just doing their best. Everyone is working on it. I'm working on it…"

ENTERTAINMENT IS AVAILABLE VIA EASY LIFE RECORDS ON JANUARY 26. WATERPARKS TOUR THE UK IN MARCH — SEE THE GIG GUIDE

IT'S A FAMILY AFFAIR

THE MADDENS AREN'T JUST MANAGERS FOR WATERPARKS. AS AWSTEN REVEALS, THE TWINS ARE MORE LIKE FAMILY

"The Madden Brothers are the fuckin' best! They've taught me a lot. I knew about the idea of having role models and shit, had them and I've definitely h before, but actually seeing them at work, and the way they accomplish things and get shit done [is very cool].

"I wouldn't be who I am right now without them. What's cool is, I'd never in a billion years be like, "You guys are like me…'but we often have conversations about what we want to to accomplish. Last night I talked to Benji, and he said, 'Dude, everything that Joel and I did, see in you.' And I was just like, 'Fuuuuuuck!

"They're more like friends than mentors to me now. Half the shit we talk about is not even band related. We talk about life, how to be different and things I want to be involved in…I want to accomplish a lot. Some of it is musical and some isn't, but I want them to be my team for all of it."

#waterparks #awsten knight #otto wood #geoff wigington #i.zip

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spgothkidsheadcanons · 1 year

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Can I request michael getting jealous because some guy is flirting with the reader? (Also I think you might have turned off the anon feature, idk if that was intentional or not lol)

I did turn it off, but not on purpose! I’m so sorry!! I didn’t know you had to manually turn on Anon Asks when you reopened the requests!

I hope you enjoy, and thank you so much for the request! I love Jealous Michael 🥴

~~~~~~~

Every Friday night, Michael took you out to dinner. It had been a tradition since you had gotten together. He’d make you dress nice, take you out to any restaurant of your choosing, and devote all of his time to you. Between his studio visits and his performances, he felt like he never had time for you, so he liked to make it up to you by taking you out and spoiling you rotten every week.

You were in your shared bedroom, waiting on your tall boyfriend to finished getting dressed. Michael was more worried about how he looked than you did, evidenced by the slowly growing mountain of clothes on the floor. Giggling to yourself, you shook your head as he paced from the floor length mirror back to his closet, grabbing another shirt and almost tearing the one he had on off. “You’re becoming a diva.” you mused, your (e/c) orbs following his every movement. Lips pursed in a thin line, he shot you an annoyed look, turning back to look in the mirror as he began buttoning the shirt he picked out. “I’m sorry not all of us look good in anything we put on.” he quipped, stepping back to observe the article of clothing. Rolling your eyes, you stood from the bed, striding over to stand infront of him.

Smoothing the tiny amount of wrinkles on the button up, you reached up to straighten his collar. “Michael, you looked good in the last 4 shirts you put on.” you assured, placing a hand on his cheek. The curly haired goth leaned his cheek into your hand, his eyes catching yours in a deep trance. You smiled up at him, leaning up to press a kiss to the side of his mouth. “Stop changing your shirts so we can go. You’re going to make us late.” you giggled, removing your hand from his face. He nodded, words failing him as he was lost in thought about you. Grabbing his wrist, you turned and dragged him from the bedroom and away from the closet you knew he desperately wanted to rummage through again.

Once downstairs, Michael finally gained conciousness again. Grabbing his keys and wallet, it was now his turn to usher you out of the front door. Locking it behind him, he walked you over to your side of his car, opening the door before you even had the chance to reach out. Smiling at him once again, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips before sliding into the seat, buckling yourself in as he shut the door and hurried to the driver’s side. Once in, he started the car, and you began the short journey it took you to get to the restaurant.

Upon arrival, you sat in your seat, giddily watching Michael get out of the car and rush back over to your side, opening your door for you once again. Holding his hand out, you grabbed it, stepping out of the vehicle and straightening the clothes you were wearing. Looping your arm through his, the both of you walked into the restaurant, waiting at the host desk to be seated. A kind woman asked for your last name, and quickly ushered you to a small table with 2 seats across from each other. Orchestral music played softly in the background, combining smoothly with the chatter of the tables around you. A trio candelabra sat neatly in the center of each table, the candles lit and flames softly flickering every now and then. The air was warm, and spirits were high. Despite the commotion going on around you, the only person who retained your attention was Michael, who in turn had his full attention on you.

You shared simple conversation as you waited for the server to arrive at your table. You listened intently as he informed you of his upcoming shows and his new album, watching as he spoke passionately about his job. It made you feel warm knowing that he was so happy about his life in the moment. Just as he was about to dive into another topic, his phone began buzzing loudly. Michael reached into his pocket, groaning dramatically while looking at the caller i.d.

“It’s my manager.” he stated, showing you the screen. “Well, go answer it.” you replied, sending him a soft smile. He frowned, and began to set his phone down. It was your turn to shoot him an annoyed. “Michael, go answer the phone. It’ll be okay, you won’t be gone more than 5 minutes.” you reassured, placing your hand over his. He responded with an apologetic look, grabbing his phone and hitting the answer button, standing from the table and moving somewhere quieter. You smiled at his back, already knowing that he was griping to his manager about calling this late on a Friday night. Too lost in your day dream about Michael, you didn’t notice the waiter had finally come up to your table, pen and a note pad in his hands.

“Well, good evening, gorgeous. What will you be drinking tonight?” the waiter started, snapping you from your day dream. Turning your attention to the man, you gave him a friendly smile. “Could I please get 2 glasses of chardonnay?” you asked. He wrote your drink order quickly, a smirk showing on his face. “2 glasses of wine? Ready to get your partying started already?” he chuckled, raising an eyebrow. You giggled, opening your mouth to reply to him before your eyes caught sight of the familiar curly headed man who had brought you here tonight. “Oh, one’s actually for my boyfriend.” you replied, shooting a smile at the tall man who had almost reached your table. The waiter hummed in response, turning on his heel and leaving with the promise of being right back.

“Ugh, I can’t even take the damn weekend off without being bothered.” Michael groaned, sliding into his seat upon arrival. Grabbing his hand, you began playing with his fingers, tracing over the veins that popped up against his skin. “What’s going on?” you asked, mind on him but eyes on his hand. He began rambling, filling you in on his phone call while you listened intently, adding in bits of your own judgement when you felt like you needed to. Subconciously, he turned his hand over, lacing his fingers with yours as he finished his rant, another annoyed groan falling from his mouth. You smiled at him, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand.

As the both of you fell silent, the waiter returned with your drinks. Setting the cups down, you couldn’t help but notice that your glass was a little more than half full, while Michael was given the normal amount. You moved to pick your glass up to pour some into your boyfriend’s, but the waiter was quick to make you pause, placing his hand gently on your shoulder. Looking up to him, your eyebrows furrowed, confusion written on your face. The waiter shot you a smirk and a wink, and unfortunately for him, that didn’t go unnoticed by Michael. He continued watching the other man speaking to you, not even throwing a glance in Michael’s direction. Becoming uncomfortable, your eyes began to dart back and forth between the two men, hoping that your beau would do something to get you out of said situation.

It was then that Michael abruptly stood up, throwing some cash down on the table. He shoved the waiter, maybe a little too hard, and grabbed your hand, all but dragging you away from the table and through the crowded dining room of the restaurant. He was wordless the entire time, his grip on your hand never easing up. You stumbled trying to keep up with his long strides, calling his name to try and get him to slow down. Arriving back at the car, he finally let go, but instead of opening your door like he always did, he walked straight to the driver’s side, opening the door and sliding him. You scoffed, opening your own door.

“Michael, what the fuck?” was all you asked as you got in, shutting the door behind you. He was wordless, instead cranking up the engine and all but flooring it out of the parking lot. The car ride was silent on the way home, your arms crossed over your chest as you stared at the road ahead of you. Michael pulled into the driveway of your home, turning the car off but sitting back in the seat. Looking into your lap, you tried to rack your brain for something to say. Something that would help you figure out what was up with the sudden temperament change. Your thoughts were cut off by his voice.

“I’m sorry.” he said, sincerely but with a short tone. Uncrossing your arms, you turned to stare at him. His eyes were on the steering wheel, his lower lip jutted out into a pout. You wanted to laugh and poke fun, but instead, you reached a hand out, placing it on his thigh. Sighing, his head hit the headrest, eyes still not looking at you. “I don’t know why I acted like that. When he touched you, I just saw red. When he winked, I just knew we had to leave before I beat the shit out of him. I just needed to get away before something happened.” he finished explaining, eyes never leaving the roof of the car. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you took his words in, imagining yourself in his position. You knew that if someone was trying to flirt with him, you’d probably do the same thing he did. You couldn’t blame him, and it made you think about how hurt he must have been to see what was happening.

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you carefully maneuvered yourself out of your seat and over the center console, being careful not to hit your head on the car roof. Planting your butt in his lap, legs still laying over the center console with your feet propped up in the passenger seat, you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your head against his chest. Feeling his arms snake around your middle, you just sat there with him, enjoying the peaceful moment. Pulling away, you looked at him, smiling sweetly to him.

“Michael, I understand. You did what you had to do, and that’s okay. You got us out of a situation that would have been horrible if we stayed, and I’m so thankful for that. I know what you were seeing was making you jealous, and I understand. That guy was a creep. I even told him I was there with you, but he still wanted to make a move. There’s nothing to apologize to me about.” you reassured him quietly, cupping his face and rubbing your thumb over his cheek. He looked at you, a tiny smile growing on his own face. Placing a few kisses to his jawline, you moved to his lips, catching him in a soft lip lock. Michael sighed against you, one hand coming up to rest on the back of your neck as he pulled impossibly closer.

Breaking away, you looked in his eyes, a devilish smirk crawling over your lips. “Plus… that was kinda hot.” you giggled, watching his eyes widen slightly. At that sentence, he was quick to throw his door open, lifting you into his arms as he stood. From the car to the front door of your home, he rushed the two of you inside and up the stairs. You were about to be in for a very long night…

#sp goth kids #south park goth kids #south park headcanons #sp fanfiction #south park michael #sp michael #sp michael x reader #south park michael x reader

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talenlee · 8 months

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August 2023 Wrapup

Kinda flew by there, or maybe it’s just that when a semester is firing, then I start breaking my weeks into more and more tightly managed little snippets. I think I’m going to have to change when I have snacks, any way, it’s time to get talking about all the great articles I wrote this week and youuuuu didn’t read yet!

First up, we have a months’ worth of articles talking about everything in the world through the medium of talking about Games:

The Game, my favourite example of games as art and games’ requirement of consent (really)

Hit The Silk, which incentivises you to lie separately instead of making rules about lying together

Dangeresque, The Roomisode Triungulate, which is me and Fox just playing a videogame together and delighting in how it makes our millenial brains go ‘oh hey, the old thing!’

The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy, where I talk about the way that the parser based text adventure game represents a distinct game form, at least in the hands of a really, really good writer

Then there’s the articles for this month’s Story Pile:

Inside Job, one of my favourite cartoons because one of my OC’s girlfriend is basically in it

Nona the Ninth, as I continue my descent into Being Locked Tomb Trash

Lie To Me, a story based on laundering the opinion of a guy who lies a lot, but you know, maybe that’s the point

My Master Has No Tail, which I love a lot and also is an anime about theatre and queerness and like, I could put it in almost any theme month this year, I swear

I also did Werewolf Week, where I talk about different ways to handle werewolves in 3e D&D, 4e D&D, and how I use them in Cobrin’Seil, my own setting. I also talk about how the Breaking Baddiverse represents a paratextual playground for media commentary. And then, more, I talk about The Locked Tomb and about how it deceives you about what a soul does and doesn’t work.

There’s articles about building gimmicks, which is mostly a compilation of videos from other magicians, and a few audio posts as I experiment with what ten minutes of spoken audio feels like compared to a thousand words of written text. I feel like audio is easier to do but also like I’m kind of short-changing you. The audio between Fox and me about My Master Has No Tail is conversational, that feels okay – but I also feel a little selfconscious about asking you to spend ten minutes listening to a micropodcast about Oppenheimer and The Foxes of Hydesville.

Foxes of Hydesville, by the way? Killer final line.

This month, a month in which I got thinking about deceit and conniving and constructions of attention control, was what got me thinking about a horror movie with one of the most perfect final lines of all time. Yeah, it was just that final line that made me think ‘wait, that’d be great on a shirt,’ and then got me thinking about how I could use that design somehow. Bonus, this design is built on a technique I learned in other designs that won’t show up until later.

You can get this sticker or shirt design here!

It’s a new semester! This year, I’m doing two classes: One on videogame critique, and one on online persona. I know I’ve gotten very twitchy right now about the term ‘content’ because my students are using it to describe literally anything. I mean I feel on one level that’s because ‘content’ to me still feels like a thing that fills a container, and it deliberately fails to appreciate that you’re not the one shaping the container. I guess I dislike it because it speaks of a lack of a point of view. But where was I,

Oh yes! I also it seems had a very creative month in prototyping – there’s more work on Bloodwork, I released a print-and-play game I want to go back and revise to make it more Star-Trekky, and I also belted out engines for a Sonic The Hedgehog fan game, a game about moonshiner werewolves I might be consigning to a superior for use in a generative media project, and I have an engine for a wrestling game. I feel very busy.

What’s more this month has featured daily hours of work on the hardest thing in the world, a literature review. A literature review is how you try and convince an arbitary reader from a distant location that you know what you’re talking about by referring to every idea you’re ever going to use in one giant document and every time I open mine I feel like I should have a little cry. But this month I have been assiduously working on it, every day, to try and put words into it, because that’s the only way it’s going to get big and strong and healthy. But man nothing puts you in your place the same way as looking at a document that’s meant to answer and why should we listen to you and realise that even with all the work on it I’ve done, I still don’t have a good answer. I mean I know what I’m talking about, but how am I going to prove that to people? I still have the lingering memory of talking about when I presented my work product as a teacher asked ‘well, why are all the board game boards square? Is that something?’ because she was trying very hard to contribute in a space where I didn’t realise I was talking to someone who didn’t understand me.

Anyway, that’s just anxiety talking, good thing I’ve got nothing adding pressure to that.

I don’t know why I’ve been so creative this month. I fear it’s part of my brain leaping away at the idea of putting work into a particular space, like I’m somehow trying to grab a bar of soap then chasing it as it squeezes away. Did Moonshiners happen because my brain found it the most convenient way to express that idea at this moment or did it happen because it felt easier to devise a whole new game and currency card game system rather than try to explain what I mean by silo’d out design thinking?

Onward, I can do this, I can do this, I can do this.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Diary #Meta

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lex-munro · 2 years

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[Glitter on the Wet Streets: Part 5] The Men Cry Out, the Girls Cry Out

The clues point to Trust A Bro Moving Company, where Eddie meets an important-looking guy in a red tracksuit and proceeds to get himself into trouble.

Chapter 5 of (probably?) 12.

Why do I insist on naming chapters instead of numbering them when I’m notoriously Bad At Titles™? A mystery for the ages…

Warnings: Canon divergent based on the MCU. Oblique spoilers for Black Widow, Wandavision, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Hawkeye, and Daredevil. Discussion of abusive relationships (both romantic and platonic) and recovery from abuse. Brief ableist language, quickly corrected by those present. Peter and MJ have been making Venom go to therapy (without actually going to therapy). Canon typical violence. Brief descriptions of wounds/regeneration. Language: PG-13 (primetime TV plus s***, f***, and g**damn).

Pairing: Matt/Eddie, background Peter/MJ, past Eddie/Venom.

Timeline: A year after the events of No Way Home, but concurrent with the events of Hawkeye (told you it was canon divergent), sort of. Like, I know Yelena’s chat with Kate was the 22nd, and that was just one night before Clint confronted Maya, but SHUSH I PUT ANOTHER DAY IN HERE FOR MAH FLOW. This universe has Hawkeye set a whole year later than canon, so I can do what I want *throws glitter at you, but bioglitter because microplastics*.

Disclaimer: I doesn’t owns the movies or the characters. Or the assorted objects of pop culture reference.

The Men Cry Out, The Girls Cry Out

The intel from Rafa’s phone shows calls from ‘Ivan’ days before each suspicious article, and just once a call from ‘K’ the day before an article (after a series of back-and-forth calls with ‘Ivan’).

“What do we do with this information?” Ned asks aloud as they all stare at the newly gathered data on the case board.

“Well, Ivan must be the contact within the Tracksuit Mafia,” MJ concludes. “He must be the guy I saw handing Rafael money. So then this ‘K’ dude must be someone higher up, somebody who had to get involved when Rafa was pushing back or wasn’t able to get a writer to fall in line.”

“None of which helps us find them,” Eddie concludes with a sigh.

“Maybe if you weren’t so busy with your defective toy, you could have gotten more info this morning,” Venom scoffs.

“Whoa!” they all yell.

“Not cool!” Peter tells the symbiote sternly.

“Only an ableist asshole whips out the D-word,” says MJ.

“Like, we get that you’re working this jealous-bitter-ex thing, but there’s such a thing as good taste,” adds Ned.

“I am not jealous,” Venom grumbles, sulking in a creepily bubbling mass in Peter’s collar.

MJ grabs Ned’s laptop. “I’m gonna do some searching. That Ivan guy got into the same kind of moving truck I saw in the chase footage on the news. Some kind of dark green, with the attic-space extension over the cab.”

“I’m gonna go get us some donuts,” Ned says, tucking tail the way he usually does when suffering secondhand embarrassment.

“No,” Peter hisses to himself. “No, I’m gonna tell him. Because this whole thing between you is really becoming intolerable again and it’s your fault for not talking about it, so I’m gonna tell him!”

Eddie waits.

“Mr. Brock, Venom needs to tell yo—”

“Don’t you dare!” growls the symbiote, lashing out with a tendril that Peter easily dodges. “Hold still so I can kick your skinny ass!”

At that point, they become a mess of flailing limbs and deflected strikes (and at one point an alarming amount of pointy teeth which then get mercilessly punched with a super-strong fist).

“Don’t break my shit, or I’ll set you on fire,” MJ threatens, eyes still locked on her Internet search.

“Venom feels really terrible for making you feel bad before and that’s why he keeps getting angry when people bring it back up,” Peter rushes to say before dodging another strike. “Also, he’s really jealous of Mr. Murdock because he’s always wanted to make you smile like that.”

With a growled accusation of betrayal, Venom rips free of Peter and splashes into the enormous aquarium in the living room. Peter shakes himself like a dog (Eddie remembers that awkward, ticklish, semi-naked feeling of having Venom leave).

“Don’t hurt my fish, either!” MJ yells.

And shit, now Eddie kind of wants to go sit by the fish and talk about their shit. Therapeutic, or whatever.

But what the fuck good would that do? Not like V’s learned a damn thing. He ends up in a body he can’t bully, the kid outs his emotions, and his response is to go pout in a fish tank?

Unbidden, the memory of that botched breakfast surfaces. Venom had tried to get Eddie and Anne back together to make Eddie happy, and when Eddie gave up, Venom tried to make breakfast to cheer him up…

Being shit at it doesn’t mean he’s not trying.

Stupid damn parasite isn’t gonna get better at being a friend if nobody shows him how.

So Eddie goes and sits next to the fish tank.

“Hey,” he says without looking. “Not a fun feeling, is it? When somebody you love—somebody you’re in love with—does things against your wishes and you can’t stop them.”

“if you’re here to gloat, you can fuck off,” says a tiny, soggy voice.

“Not gloating. Just pointing out I know how it feels. I also know how it feels for somebody you’re in love with to make you feel like you’re constantly fucking up.”

“i don’t feel like that.”

“Yes, you do. And you made me feel like that, too. There’s a lotta stuff I like about Matt, but that’s my favorite: he goes outta his way to make sure I don’t feel like a fuckup. I told him last night—I like who I am around him, and I haven’t liked myself in a long time.”

“…not even when we were together?”

“No, V. When we were together, I liked us, and I loved you. But I hated me.”

Venom is quiet for a long time. “i was a shitty friend,” he decides. “and a very shitty boyfriend. but you loved me anyway.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“i’m sorry, eddie. i am bad at being kind. peter says i have unresolved trauma, and according to the internet, he’s right. he has suggested we hug it out, but i am not a fan of hugs, as you know.”

Eddie looks over his shoulder and sees a jellyfish-like blob of blackness floating in the water. “Okay, that’s progress. You can’t exactly talk to a therapist or nothin’, but maybe you could talk to me?”

“my first host was a kree soldier,” Venom says in a slightly bigger voice. “i was a weapon, regardless of my own wishes. when riot and the others rebelled, i ran away with them. riot said we could never trust a host, and we should kill them before we could be used again. i didn’t kill my host; that is why i was a loser on that asteroid. they called me weak and trusting. naïve. i hurt you because i wanted to feel strong, which dr. phil says is a classic expression of generational abuse cycles, but does not excuse bad behavior when we know it to be hurtful.”

Eddie is grudgingly impressed. “Dr. Phil, huh? So you really have been working on yourself?”

“peter and mj have forced me to. but also i want to be better. for him. for you. for whoever hosts me next. i have to fix what the kree broke in me, or i’ll only keep hurting my hosts. i have a lot of anger, but the people who deserve it are dead.”

Wow. Venom definitely has a better handle on identifying his issues than Eddie ever has, which is kind of humbling. Eddie clears his throat and nods. “Good, uh…good for you, V. And…apology accepted.”

“…he’s the one who makes me feel like a fuckup, not peter. that’s why i don’t like him.”

Eddie frowns. “Who, Matt?”

“it was so easy for him to make you smile, and he can’t even appreciate it. you’re pretty when you’re happy.”

“I’m really not.”

“you are. anne always thought so, too.”

Eddie clears his throat again, pretending not to be flattered and embarrassed. “You want me to go get Parker?”

“i will stay here for a while. the fish are relaxing.”

~*~*~

MJ’s (extremely thorough) search determines that the green trucks were at the underground auction, at the apartment fire, at the bridge chase, and at the scene of the bribe. ‘Trust A Bro Moving Company,’ which is a part of Sloan, the company Eleanor Bishop spoofed onto her fiancé’s file. Other Sloan businesses include Fat Man Used Cars and Fat Man Gym. It’s like Kingpin gets his jollies from daring people to find his shadier dealings.

So, here’s the team mascot, the faithful Great Dane, poking around with the most harmless, airheaded persona he can.

“Hello?” Eddie calls as he sticks his head in the door (a bell jingles discordantly, several years past its prime). There’s nobody in the front office, but he can hear talking in the next room.

A guy in a red tracksuit comes out with a fake-ass smile. “Happy holidays! What can a bro move for you, sir?”

“Yeah, sorry, I just saw one of your trucks in my neighborhood the other day,” Eddie says, waving his thumb at the green eyesore outside. “My place just burned down, and I was wonderin’, do you guys haul junk and trash? ‘Cause my landlord’s telling me I gotta spring for the cleanup if I want him to pay the repairs, and I looked in my rental agreement and the tightwad’s right. I got a quote from some contractor guy who was staking the place out, but it’s a little rich for my stomach, if ya know what I mean.”

Mr. Customer Service gives a slightly more sincere smile. “Sure, bro, we’ll haul anything. Junk’s even easier, since you don’t care if it gets broken.”

“Great! You got, like, a form for me to fill out?”

They do. It asks for his name, phone number, address, estimated square footage, preferred pickup time, destination, and payment method. The payment options listed are ‘Cash,’ ‘Traveler’s Check,’ and ‘Gift Card.’ Oy vey. Why not just put ‘money launderers’ on the front window?

“Oh, good, you take cash,” Eddie says cheerfully. “Everybody seems to want plastic these days, but who can afford all the fees, am I right? Banks are just gangs of thieves in suits anyhow. Wall Street bastards, overcharging honest folks into obliv—”

“Thank you very much, we will call you soon!” the guy interrupts, snatching up the form with gritted teeth.

Something suicidal in Eddie can’t resist snarking with, “I catch you at a bad time? Bro?”

The guy visibly collects himself and huffs out a humorless laugh. “Ah, yes, sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, but my boss has really been on my back. You know how it is, holiday rush…”

“Yeah, no, I get it. The big guy’s riding you to get results. Must be rough, being a slave to the Fat Man’s whims.”

Mr. Customer Service is no longer amused. “What did you say?”

Eddie casually points to the jolly ceramic figure on a nearby desk. “Y’know—Santa.”

“Ah. Yes.”

“Happy holidays,” Eddie says with a smile, and walks out.

Outside in the cold, he shoves his hands in his pockets and curses himself.

“Great job, Eddie, always gotta poke the fuckin’ bear… Trying to take down this evil bastard is what got you run outta town before.”

He pauses a step, then starts walking again.

What if some of what he knows carries over? The presidents have been the same, the key senators are the same… Yeah, there are people with super powers, and that’s a pretty big diff, but other shit seems real close.

He found five laundering businesses, two arms stockpiles, and a drug lab, all an instant too late to tie it to Fisk before shit got sanitized or scapegoats got trotted out. What if even some of it’s the same? Two of the laundering operations were on MJ’s list for Sloan.

“Heh, mascot, my ass,” he mutters. “Get some Scooby Snacks ready, kids…”

He calls MJ just because she’s his usual point of contact, so it won’t look weird if Rafa or somebody gets his phone. After a few rings, it goes to voicemail.

“Shit. You guys better not be in trouble and need rescuing right now, or I’ll ground you all for life. I’m chasing some old leads, hoping they’ll turn into new leads. Once upon a time, there was a guy named Lopez who worked at a place called Fat Man Auto Repair, which happens to be on the same property as Fat Man Used Cars, and he was definitely in deep with organized crime near Hell’s Kitchen.”

And away he goes.

~*~*~

And really, the first warning should have been the boarded windows.

The second warning should have been the angry chick stomping off into the snow just as the sun came back out.

Red flag number three should have been all the Tracksuits lollygagging around the place.

But, hey, all that seemed to point to Eddie being right. Deliciously, beautifully, vindicatingly right.

The bloom of hot pain just below his ribs seems to point to Eddie being a goddamn idiot.

The guy who pulled the trigger looks surprised for a moment, like maybe he never shot anybody before, but then he gets that mad dog look they sometimes do, and he pulls the trigger again, and a third time.

It’s not Eddie’s first time being shot, but the novelty hasn’t worn off yet. It hurts, and he can’t catch his breath, and his hands are shaking too badly to put pressure on the wound. Wounds. And that’s problematic, since he doesn’t have an alien goo monster putting him back together.

So much for those Scooby Snacks…

Somebody is yelling—roaring. There’s a fight going on somewhere, but Eddie’s trying to stay on his feet, but he can’t remember why…

It doesn’t hurt when he hits the ground. It’s cold and wet and crunchy. And red.

White sky, high up.

Can’t catch his breath.

His mouth tastes like pennies and warm milk.

There’s something heavy on his chest—in his chest?

Gloved fingers on his face, then bare skin. His ears are filled with a low hiss and a high ringing. Someone’s talking, far away. More voices. Crying out. They sound sad. More fingers, smaller.

MJ’s pinky ring stings like a bitch when she slaps him. For a moment, the ringing clears. “You’re going into shock,” she says loudly, firmly. “Focus. Squeeze Matt’s hand. Ned says Peter’s—”

Her voice fades away under the ringing again, and he chokes for a moment before managing a cough. But then he still can’t catch his breath. Something liquid is sliding down or up, like accidentally swallowing pool water, or getting his sinuses irrigated when he had a bad infection…

White.

Cold.

And then nothing.

I got us.

Black. Sliding between bone and tissue, eating the misplaced blood to use as raw material, growing holes closed, discarding three little lumps of lead.

Nestling back in the hollow space between stomach and heart where it belongs.

HOME

Whole.

Wet fingers squeezing his—theirs—a little too hard.

Matt

They squeeze back, and Eddie manages to open his eyes. “Well, that coulda gone better,” he admits.

Matt laughs at him, but he’s crying, too—nose gone pink and hair mussed from the mask discarded next to him in the snow—and he’s so damn pretty. “I’d yell, but Foggy would call me a hypocrite.”

“I thought the Devil only came out at night.”

“What, like a blind lawyer would have been a ton of help against those guys?”

“Coulda made cute faces at ‘em till they either adopted you or begged for mercy.”

Matt yanks him upright and into a hug.

Two other sets of hands touch his back.

“Had us worried, Scoob,” MJ teases, but Venom can taste the heat in her hands, hear them trembling ever so softly.

“Sorry,” says Peter. “I’m sorry. I know you said you didn’t want him, but I couldn’t think of anything else, and he didn’t want to do it against your will, but I made him do it, and it saved your life, so—”

“Parker.”

Venom curls away from Eddie’s heart for a moment, but settles right back.

“What I said was, it wrecked me when he left.”

STAYING

“Yeah, for how long?” Eddie retorts.

missed you love you. home. home not going not ever never neverneveragain.

“Said that last time.”

what if

He waits.

He can feel Venom curling through his thoughts, less obtrusive than the other times he’s done it.

we could keep Matt. he can make me behave, and he can make you happy.

Eddie stares as Matt senses something and tilts his head with a little frown.

YES that settles it, i have decided we are KEEPING MATT. you are welcome.

Eddie laughs and kisses Matt’s cheek.

“Is that good?” Matt asks. “That seems good.”

“V says if he stays, we’re keeping you.”

You have something in your pocket. Bumpy paper. I read about it on the Internet! It says… Oh, that is SUPER-ROMANTIC, Eddie, you are being WOOED!

Aloud, the alien says, “MATT. Eddie is an idiot who cannot read the bump-writing, but I can read his bird-brain mind, and since I am the most helpful friend-boyfriend ever, read this and become intolerably smug!”

A black tendril nudges Matt’s right hand and settles under his fingers. After a moment, he looks confused, then stunned, then—as Venom predicted—smug. “So, I hear you and Snowflake are in the market for a place to stay long-term?”

“Uh,” Eddie says with all the charm and eloquence of a squirrel that ate somebody’s reefer stash.

“We can discuss that later,” MJ says. “Now that you’re not dead or dying, explain why the hell you thought it was a good idea to come here at all, let alone without backup. And keep in mind that you’re lucky your boyfriend has really weird attachment issues and that Peter followed Hawkeye and found out he sent a note to meet somebody here tonight so we were already on our way check it out.”

“Oh. Right. One sec—” He steals another kiss before handing Matt his mask. “Okay, so in my universe—”

(“Wait, what?” Matt says. “Shhhh,” says MJ.)

“—I had gathered up all kinds of great leads to taking down Kingpin, but I was just a tad too slow, and he got all his alibis and scapegoats and payoffs lined up. Bastard got me blacklisted from every paper in the city, sent me running to the opposite side of the country. I figured enough things were the same here that I might try to scope out my old leads. Unfortunately, it paid off. I still got more leads to follow up on, though, and with V aboard, I fix up good as new.”

“And I pay better attention.”

“Asshole.”

“It’s true! Remember Kasady and his little map?”

“You’re not cute enough to be smug about one case,” Eddie declares. “You’re gonna have to work your way up.”

“Tell you what, boys,” says Matt—well, the mask is back on and he’s just pulled on his gloves, so technically he’s Daredevil now. “I know a private eye who works pretty cheap when good people are getting the short end of some rich guy’s stick, and she happens to have kept off Fisk’s radar. Give me your list, and she and I can have a look.”

“No way, the Tracksuits are my scoop!” MJ growls.

“Also, two more superheroes, right here,” Peter adds, pointing to Eddie and himself.

Daredevil shakes his head. “You’re a minor, Peter.”

“Super! And a really good scientist-in-training!”

“Peter is objectively much more super and heroic than you are.”

“I will blast you out of my boyfriend and stuff you in a fish bowl,” Daredevil threatens.

“Kids, stop fighting or I will do all the heroics myself and probably end up dead again!” Eddie yells. When the others have shut up, he goes on at a more reasonable volume, “Babe, invite your PI friend to the Batcave. We’ll, uh, have a con-fab or whatever, divide the labor fairly, see about helping Hawkeye and nailing the Fat Man in time for Christmas.”

“How are we gonna pay her?” asks Peter.

Eddie heaves a sigh and pulls out his phone. “Snowflake has currently raised us twenty-seven thou and counting, thanks to that viral marketing thingy Queen MJ pulled.”

“H-h-how—”

MJ shrugs. “I tagged Flash and showed him that vid of you asleep in the suit with Snowflake on your lap. Did you know he has three hundred thousand followers on Insta and over a million on Twitter? He shared the GoFundMe link with the tag ‘give a buck for Spidey’s favorite kitty.’“

Peter looks slightly frightened. “I love you so, so much. Please never turn into a super-villain.”

“Now that’s out of the way,” MJ says, standing up and looking around the back lot of the auto shop. “Whaaaaat are we gonna do about all these unconscious goons? I think at least one probably needs a doctor. Daredevil got a little enthusiastic.”

“Mm. Sorry, not sorry.”

“Don’t worry—not judging. They shot the dog, John Wick kicked their asses.”

.End.

#fanfic #CANON DIVERGENCE #Venom liked the MCU so I let him stay as a treat #Matt/Eddie #rarepair #fandom: MCU #handwaving the hell out of this timeline #fic series: glitter (venom MCU)

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

Crackin’ the Code

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

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

word count: 9k

warnings: smut

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The CEO never fantasized about a wedding.

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

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

Harry wanted to marry his fiance after their first date.

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

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

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

Don’t get him wrong.

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a goddamn waste of a night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It doesn’t happen often.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was so fucked up.

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

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

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

She was just...everything.

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

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

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

She was confident in a way that girls rarely were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry cannot remember the last time he had been nervous.

Maybe back in his teenage years? If that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

YN had never felt more out of place.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s a relief.”

His eyebrows shoot up, “A relief?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Life didn’t even seem real at this moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y’breakin’ the tradition, m’heart.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hair and makeup went fast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It started to feel real.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The line goes dead but YN feels much better now.

—

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

YN knew she wanted to have an outside wedding.

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

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

She knew exactly where Harry would be standing.

Underneath a beautiful, dated archway with intricate designs about.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry rubs his eyes before meeting hers again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

YN giggles, returning the kiss before pushing him off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The guests in the chairs are quite speechless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The reception is more of a dinner than a party.

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

It was perfect.

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

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

There is not much more to say than that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She needs him close, she needs her husband.

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

Harry had always imagined this night.

To have someone laid out underneath him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

if you’ve ask to be on my taglist and you’re not here - please check your settings because i’ve tried to add you and it didn’t work.

taglist babies (thank you): @dioc4ne @hazgoldenstyles @harrysdimple05 @wonwooen @ficnarry @leeroysdancer @harrysloveheart @harryscherrysugar @pradastardust @rish-haz @wildcstdrexms @evanstylestan @wisetoadbonkbiscuit @meredithhuntt @tpwkvictoria @lovely-him @haymix @eiffelmezarry @pilgrim-harry @soullessbabee @afterglowstyles @tulsasjesus @elenagilbert01 @meh–mood @pretty-pop-princess-hs @msolbesg @localfalsegodstan @evanjh @i-just-like-fanfics @harrys-hs-gf @lightsupdoyouknowwhoyouare @afterglcwswift @harrystyles-tpwk @amyvandijk @godilovetheenglishx @harrys-cherrry @theprofessionalfanby @your–sweetest–downfall @la-cey @bdbtchdir @killerqueencapstan @elizabeth23567 @camflowervol6 @its-a-finee-line @rish-haz @solonelytobe @nav1234 @harrynamjoon @hopefullimaginer123 @westallenhes @awesomebooklover17 @will-be-a-fineline @vasilikir5 @your–sweetest–downfall @pretty-pop-princess-hs @harrynamjoon @harrypinks @ivyirenehoax @harryspink @sunsetcurve-h @goldenstylesh @mouthfulloftoothpastehs @hello-34583 @prettylovley @nicolecarsley @lamariettes @imavirginhoe @unknown7549 @mellamolayla @kiwitsayedsugar @hopefullimaginer123 @harrysmatcha @weaslettesstuff @saintsmotels @hi-yekaterina @aubreyfineline @harrysgoldenbum @ebstylesx @goldeng1rl8 @tnqueen @percysaidnever @bebecalpal

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stylesharlow · 2 years

Note

imagine being friends with jack and everyone thinks you guys are dating because you’re always acting like a couple

thank you for this request, friends to lovers is my comfort content hehe

ps. the part that's in italics is a past event

(Y/N) and jack have been best friends for years, there was virtually nothing that they didn't do together. she travelled out to see him a handful of times on each tour, they constantly hung out, and were close to each other's families.

jack, urban, and (Y/N) were a solid crew with an easy dynamic between the three of them, and nobody outside of this circle paid much mind to the unknown girl that was also with them. as jack's fame grew he was careful with how he spoke about her, knowing how the media liked to scrutinize his every move around women. he refused to put her through that.

however, even though they saw their friendship as completely normal, it was still heavily scrutinized and became somewhat of a spectacle over time. it started as a twitter thread that (Y/N) found accidentally when she shamelessly searched her name alongside jack's

"jack and (Y/N) dating proof: a thread" she scoffed to herself as she read the title, this should be good.

as she looked through every photo she became filled with anxiety, from an outside perspective this looked very convincing, but to her there was a reason he held her hand in most of them, there was a reason for them laughing together, there was a reason they were alone eating together. the hand holding always originated from the same issue.

she snuck a nervous glance towards the store windows, jack noticed she had gotten quiet.

"you okay?" she couldn't stop looking outside and was stalling any time he mentioned heading out from his shopping trip.

"um...yea...there just weren't that many photographers when we got here." ah, the paparazzi, the worst part about his job.

he made her look him in the eyes as he told her, "just hold on to me, we'll walk right into the car. i gotchu." those eyes and that smile. immediately she felt safe, this was just jack, she just had to listen to him and it would be fine.

he held out his hand and she grabbed it, strong and warm, everything would be fine.

that day was vivid in her mind as she looked through the photos of her gripping jack's hand and doing her best to hide behind his tall frame.

she locked her phone and sighed deeply, dating jack...

a few years ago that would be completely out of the question, but now...she wasn't so sure. they would most likely always be friends but she could definitely see the draw that had suddenly made everyone so attracted to him, she wasn't blind.

she put off thinking about it and refused to read that thread again, and any other consequent rumors that were being published in real articles about the two of them. (Y/N) almost completely forgot about all of it by the time her and jack were attending one of druski's parties, she hadn't seen him in a few tour stops and was very excited. she didn't run into him immediately and was pulled into another group of friends who were introducing their new friend will, he was hitting it off with everyone, especially (Y/N).

jack was outside sitting with a few guys smoking a cigar, enjoying the calm before entering the loud party to look for (Y/N).

"yo jack congrats on your chick man, she's fine." he started coughing, not expecting that to be the topic of conversation

"my what?"

"oh c'mon that girl you're always posted up with, i think she's here now." realization struck, jack was definitely aware of the rumors and actively tried avoiding them in interviews, he didn't think that needed to follow him home too.

"nah man it's not like that." he moved to extinguish his cigar eager to find her knowing for sure she was here now.

another one of his friends joined the questioning, "so you're telling me you're not hitting that." he gave jack a look of disbelief and laughter came from each person in the group, except jack.

he looked down with a smile he didn't mean, trying to hold his patience together, "i'm heading inside, but don't ever say that shit again brother." he patted his shoulder twice wearing the same empty smile and stalked inside taking deep breaths.

jack quickly found her in her typical group outside of him, he wanted to run up and hug his friend but stopped himself when he saw her clearly talking to a new face in the group, a new guy he had never met. jack was trying to be happy for her but it fell flat, all he wanted was to catch up with her privately and leave this party.

he lost steam and decided to just give her a hello and goodbye all in one when he greeted her.

"my fault i don't mean to interrupt, i haven't seen you yet." jack lightly touched the side of her arm, and the look (Y/N) had on her face when she turned to see it was him made him wish he had the desire to stay here with her tonight. she hugged him tightly saying how much she missed him through the hug before introducing him to the new guy, will, was his name.

"nice to meet you man, hey i'm actually heading home, got a show tomorrow and i'm beat." the disappointment on her face was clear.

"no way, everyone just got here!"

"i'm sorry been a long-"

"bro that shit i said outside, that was my bad man, it's just jokes." jack heard the familiar voice of his friend coming from behind him and without turning around said another goodnight to (Y/N) and will and headed out the door.

(Y/N) turned to jack's friend, "what was that about?" the man just shrugged.

as jack sat in his apartment scrolling through instagram watching people's stories, his doorbell rang. he was shocked to open it and see her standing there, looking very annoyed with him.

she pushed past him and stood in the front entrance of his apartment with her arms crossed, "what the hell was that? i haven't seen you in weeks and you leave me with a dramatic exit."

"my fault, i'm sorry, those guys i was with in the beginning pissed me off."

"yea i could tell, wanna talk to me about it?"

instead of answering jack gave her a hug and just held her until she unfolded her arms and hugged him back. he changed the subject.

"really did miss you, m'sorry."

before she could pull away he asked, "stay over tonight?"

she laughed lightly, "i came here right from the party, i'm not prepared."

jack only sighed at the nonissue and took her to his bedroom where he pulled out sweats and instructed her to change.

when he reentered the room later, she was sitting on his bed scrolling through her phone. "we haven't had a slumber party in forever."

"don't call it that." jack smiled and let out a laugh.

"did you expect another girl to be in your bed tonight, cause you had the makeup remover and spare toothbrush at the ready in there." she pointed to his bathroom with a smirk.

"nah, that's all you." she suddenly remembered the twitter thread and thought of the field day they would be having right now.

after another beat of silence she thought it would be easier to find humor in the anxiety she felt towards the dating rumors, "you know i saw the weirdest shit on twitter the other day, a lot of people think we're dating." jack saw her scrunch her nose at the end of her sentence, feigning disgust, he clutched his heart like he was in pain and sat at the end of the bed.

"would that be so bad?" (Y/N) froze where she sat and felt like the air was sucked out of the room.

"i mean, we're just- i don't- we can't-"

"woah, woah, relax, it's just me." he grabbed her hand in his like he's done countless times before and gave her that same smile, with those same eyes.

"this is how i see it, there's a guy at that party right now that would be happy to be in my position, but here you are in my bed, wearing my clothes, staying the night." his thumb traced light circles on the back of her hand and her face grew warm at his words.

"s-so?"

"so..." he moved closer to her on the bed, "how much would change if i kissed you right now?"

(Y/N) gulped as his hand moved out of hers and to her neck, up to her cheek, "not much, i suppose."

jack wasted no time closing the small gap between their lips.

y'all have no idea how hard it was to stop writing this

please be honest with me is my writing too long? LOL i have so much fun with these prompts and can't stop writing. feel free to reply to this and be honest if i should cool it lmao

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow fanfiction #jack harlow imagine #writing #submission #anon <3

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harlowsbby · 2 years

Text

Play No Games

You had just gotten hired to be Jack’s publicist. What helped a lot was you were also a journalist and ran a blog dedicated to Jack’s career and one of your own that was a celebrity keep up. Neelam was the one who had hired you originally. Jack had been looking for a new publicist and you were perfect for the job in Neelam’s eye. She had been friends with you for a while taking on the mom role in your relationship like her relationship with Jack. When Neelam would bring you up to Jack he would look like a kid in and candy shop. His eyes would get big and happy, he was in love with you before he knew you. Neelam knew how hard you fell when you finally did so when she found out that Jack had a crush on you, she gave him a talk about not hurting you. After that, that’s the only thing Jack could think about when it came down to you, would he hurt you?

When you and Jack met in person for the first time you were already a flustered mess. Everyone in the room could pick up on it in seconds. You were stumbling over your words and fixing your clothes no matter how in place they already were. It got to the point where you were so flustered you excused yourself and went to the bathroom.

While you were in the bathroom tearing yourself to shreds Jack and Neelam were talking.

“She’s cuter in person,” Jack smirks looking at the bathroom door as if he could see you through it.

“She likes you Jack, do not run the poor girl away she’s here to work,” Neelam says rolling her eyes.

“I like when she blushes though, makes my stomach feel good.” Jack laughs rubbing his stomach. Everyone in the room around him laughed too. Just as that interaction was going on you walked out of the bathroom. You were sure they were laughing at you.

For the rest of your time there for the day, you were shy and reserved. You had already embarrassed yourself enough. Jack had millions of girls simping over him, he wasn’t even looking in your direction.

Jack was looking in your direction though, he’d try to look at you even harder in hopes your eyes would lock with his and he could make you blush or smile again. Jack was so aimed at making you laugh he had been poking a couple jokes at Neelam in hopes you laugh, you’d do a small chuckle, but nothing like your normal laugh. The one he fell in love with earlier. Jack began to wonder if you did like him. There were other men in the room, you could’ve been flustered by Urban for all he knows.

You and Jack worked together for a couple months after that. Jack’s popularity grew rapidly after you joined his team. He always praised you and said it was because of the articles and interviews you get him in to which you’d just tell him it was nothing but his talent finally being shown. Jack’s crush on you never really went away and neither did yours but you both got better at hiding it. You and Jack grew closer and closer with every month you worked with him. You two were together so much the fans started shipping y’all together which made it a bit awkward.

Jack was scheduled to make an appearance at the celebrity basketball game with Druski and Dj Drama and after he was set to do interviews with Taylor Brooks. After the game, you guys made your way towards Taylor who was setting up herself to discuss the game with Jack and Druski and a few basketball reporters.

“Jack hey I missed you so much I haven’t seen you in forever it feels like” Taylor explained happily as she wrapped her arms around Jack.

“I missed you Taylor it’s been too long girl,” Jack said as he smiled widely at her. Now you knew you shouldn’t have gotten jealous at just the two of them hugging but you did and what really set you off was when Jack pulled out his phone and posted a picture of them both.

“Let’s get this shit started I'm ready” Jack explained as he took his spot across from Taylor throughout the interview many other people showed up including Druski as well. You stood next to Neelam in silence you replayed the snap of Taylor and Jack many times you knew it was childish to feel this way but it was how you felt.

“Are you okay Y/N you’ve been really quiet? What’s wrong sweetie ?” Neelam questioned as she pats your back you looked up at noticed Jack watching the both of you with concern written on his face.

“Uh yeah I’m okay I’m just gonna use the bathroom okay? I’ll be right back.” You told Neelam and she nodded knowing some shit was up. Neelam turned back towards Jack who looked at Neelam with confusion and concern on his face she shrugged her shoulders not knowing what was wrong with you but Jack needed to know if you were okay.

“Hey, I’ll be right back I gotta use the bathroom” jack told Taylor and Druski.

“Man you got the weakest bladder ever dawg you can’t hold nothing in,” Druski said as everyone started laughing besides Jack.

“And that’s why you look like the chocolate version of the marshmallow man from ghostbusters,” Jack said and got up to find you leaving everyone laughing with tears after what he just told Druski.

Jack was running around like a mad man trying to find you and see where you went.

“Hey have you guys seen Y/N I can’t find her anywhere ?” Jack questioned some guys that worked with him.

“Oh Y/N yeah she said she was gonna go outside and get some air.” The guy with the blonde hair told jack and jack thanked him and went outside to find you.

You were leaned against a wall outside wiping your eyes you knew you probably looked ridiculous crying over a guy who didn’t even feel the same way about you but you couldn’t help it you really loved Jack and your feelings for him grew every day.

“Y/N are you okay ?” You heard Jack’s voice and mentally cursed yourself out of course he’d find you.

“Yeah I’m okay Jack I just needed some air is all” you mumbled and avoided his gaze as he studied your face he noticed your eyes were puffy a sign that you’ve been crying.

“Are you good Y/N? You look like you’ve been crying ?” Jack said as he grabbed your hand causing your heart rate to pick up because he’s never done that before. You blushed slightly causing Jack to smile softly at you.

“I’m okay Jack just kinda upset is all but I’ll be okay.” You mumbled but Jack wasn’t taking that as an answer.

“What’s wrong Y/N you can tell me anything ?” Jack questioned you looked at jack really wondering if you were gonna tell this man you had the biggest crush on him and whenever he’s around he makes your heart drop you said fuck it and decided just to tell him.

“I like you, Jack, okay I really like you a lot and you know seeing you taking pictures with Taylor and hugging her even though it’s okay like I’m not crazy you can do that I just really like you and it bugged me you just make me blush all the time and I get nervous around you and I just I don’t kno-“ you were cut off by Jack’s lips meeting your owns after he kissed you he pulled away slowly with a smirk on his lips.

“Damn finally I was wondering how long it was going to take you to tell me. I feel the same way Y/N.” Jack grinned as he wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you closer to his chest.

“Now I’m embarrassed and feel stupid.” You said as your cheeks got pink he just chuckled.

“Don’t feel stupid baby you know I make the girls go crazy,” Jack said cockily and you smacked his arm causing him to throw his head back in laughter and you giggled snuggling into Jack’s chest happy that he was finally yours.

Me and @rottenforharlow worked hard on this we really hope you all love it as much as we do. 🤍

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts

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mochikeiji · 3 years

Text

Kinktober Day 7: Baby in Pink

↠ Pairing: Suna Rintarou x Reader

↠ Warning: SMUT! Cry baby reader, Ballerina AU, fingering, cunnilingus, ahegao faces because he's THAT good, riding, creampie, Suna being soft but meanie dom.

↬ Word Count: 3k

⇢ Day 7: Manhandled (Riding)

Everything felt so magical; elegant. The way you were on pointe made him suck in a breath to every performance he has witnessed from you. Even if he's seen them many, many times in repeat, you were as graceful as a butterfly, as taunting as a little fairy in baby pink. To see how effortlessly you were lifted by your partner during daring performances made him clench his fists of how close those pesky fingers of a stranger were to parts only he was allowed, yet his mind in wonder of how easily handled you were in stage.

How easily you were being handled in so many ways corrupted delicious, arousing day dreams in his calm features, but buzzing head.

He's never been vocal about it, but he adores how tight your ballet clothing were. He especially loved the camisole leotard dress; each time you wore them, he catches a glimpse of your perfectly shaped bottom from the flowy, see through clothing. Thanking the dark, and captured audience to the people on stage and not notice the growing bulge in his pants and his harsh breathing through his nose. The baby pink tone of your attire made you glow of innocence and cuteness he so wants to carry you out and throw you to his bed to snuggle you away from the eyes of the world.

To take your dainty, little self in the cold sheets with the baby pink article of clothing ruined by yours and his cum splattering messily.

The times your eyes would get caught with his pretty ones after your search for him in the sea of the crowd, you would smile brightly st him, eyes forming the adorable crescents he recognizes even from afar. The former, emotionless middle blocker would be in love struck, as if Cupid had shot multiple arrows to his heart just by your glowing form.

You were so precious. His little ballerina.

And he was your prince. Big and strong, beautiful in every way, fit from his previous and present time in volleyball, too good for anyone in this world. He was yours.

"R-rin.."

Too good.

Too good enough for you to be trembling, and just by grinding yourself on his flexed thigh. He couldn't hold back anymore after seeing you present yourself with your new outfit. It was still the same color, but the fabric was thinner than usual, either it was to make your movements more easier or it was just to test his patience. The length of the flowy skirt had been shortened with your legs no longer covered, naked and soft looking, the chest area emphasized your bust too much for his liking.

Oh, you were so delectable.

He groans your name when he felt your juices seep out from your clothed pussy. It was almost as if you weren't even covered well with it. Big, rough hands at the sides of your hips, guiding your shy movements against his thigh to bring you to your awaited heaven. You whimper when he dug his fingers onto the skin, the sounds you were making muffled on his shoulder only making it hard for him to tame himself. Having enough of it, he easily hoisted you up from his thigh and settles you down in bed. God, did he love having a place all to himself with you in it. He gets to do whatever he pleases.

"Pretty."

It came out like a harsh whisper from his lips as he stares at the damped spot of your center. The skirt pushed up and your legs spread out for him, he gets a little closer in between them and drags his digits down your clothed slit. Eyes immediately gazing up to see you biting your fist and your legs quivering in sensitivity. He hums in delight and began pressing in his index on the slick clothing, his thumb rubbing lazy circles on your clit, relishing the sounds of your soft moans and his name being chanted like a prayer.

"Shit, baby."

Cursing he pushes the leotard to the side, inserting two of his digits in and curls them quickly, wanting to see and hear your squeals as your grabbed his wrist and propped yourself up pathetically with your elbow.

"W-wait, sensitive.."

Glossy eyes meeting with his blank, but lust clouded ones. He'd take mercy whenever you would warn him at times like this, afraid he might've hurt you in the process, but this, you weren't hurt or anything. You were just being his little cry baby. Instead of listening to your plead and your small hands tightening around his wrist weakly retraining him, he pulls his fingers out slowly, licking his lips at the sight of the transparent, coated digits before plunging back in roughly. You sobbed as your body gave out and laid back down, with his other hand pressing down your stomach, he delivers precise piston of his fingers inside you. He knew you can take it. You can, and you will.

"Rin!! A-ah, Tarou..please.."

Legs trying to slowly shut with his head still in between, he hums in approval before getting a taste of your sopping cunt and lapping his tongue up to your clit. He loved getting crushed with your thighs, they were so soft and jiggly when they shook. It boosted his own ego to have them at that state because of his meek minitrations. What more can he get from you when he snaps?

He suckles on the bundle of nerves, your toes curls as your hips arched up, eagerly grinding to his mouth while pleading for him to stop since his fingers were reaching too deep into the right places inside. Suna was in his own euphoria, never really pegged himself as a man who would get drunk into the taste of you and a man who has his dick prodded up to the air just by seeing you in such princess-like clothing. Writhing beneath him, you lowered your hand down to his hair, tugging the long, luscious brown locks of his as he won't let go of the erected nub, slurping and nibbling at it like a pro.

His own arousal begging to be freed from his black slack, the infuriating fabric getting compacted uncomfortably, making his cock ache painfully. Removing his hand from your stomach, he unbuckled the belt off of his trousers swiftly, shrugging them down and kicking them off with his legs and feet, finally releasing your nub with a pop and mercy left for you.

Your legs automatically closed themselves to soothe the sensitive regions. Gripping the pillow on the side of your head as your clouded eyes gaze elsewhere into a short subspace, panting with small drool slipping from the corner of your lips. Suna sees this and gets up from the floor to hover over you. He shouldn't be so rough; shouldn't take advantage of this state you are in, not when your such in full daze of your own world, not when you looked already so fucked out when he hasn't gotten to the good part.

"You okay?"

The tip of his nose nudges your cheek softly, like a cat, he nuzzles himself on your flushed skin. It was out of character for him to display such affection, but over the years of being with you, oh how his heart softened and crumbles at the mere presence of you. He peppers your cheeks with little kisses, swiping away the drool with his thumb, murmuring praises and love confessions to you.

"You're cute."

"I'm here, baby."

"Mmm.. You're still dripping."

His voice made you dizzy, strum like a string of tantalizing melody as you inhaled his musky scent that made you dig your nose at the crook of his neck. Whimpering a little when you felt something slide outside your folds, warm and hard, Suna grunts and pants out small puffs of air onto your ear. You were so slick and wet that it was tempting to just dick you down right now. But you were his little baby, he had to take care of you first. He wouldn't want to hurt you.

"Will you let me take care of you?"

Your blown pupils lost the clouds that has surrounded them as you moaned out, his teeth sinking in the tender flesh by your neck with your hips jolting up, meeting with his twitching cock. Hands flying to clutch onto his shoulders, you wished you had kept your legs closed as now your flower was being teased to death. Suna groans when he feels you twitch a little, how adorable, he thoughts.

"Well?"

He bites on your lower lip, tugging it whilst keeping the eye contact with you, like he was ravishing you with his pretty eyes as sweat slid down to your face.

"I'm waiting."

He grabs a hold of his cock, you expected he was going to pump a few jets, but instead he began slapping it against your weeping cunt. Squealing at the sound of wet skin slapping and the small waves of pleasure kicking in, you whined beneath him when he chuckles darkly, looking up to him with puppy like eyes.

"Rin, please.."

He stops, leaning forward so that his forehead was pressing to yours, exhaling out softly when he felt himself release a few pre cum jets out from his cock.

"Please what?"

Even though he was getting as needy as you were, he was still Suna Rintarou, a guy who loves to be in control and manipulate what he can. Loves to endlessly put you on edge to have your small hands scratching his skin, your body trapped from his bigger structure. He was addicted.

Frustrated, tears glossed over your eyes with some slipping down a little. You would've screamed at him for being a big meanie, but now you were stuck pouting and crying when you felt him rut against you once more.

"Please!! Need your cock, Rintarou!!"

As those words escaped your plumped lips, Suna cages you in his arms and quickly switches positions with you in a blink of an eye. Confusion written all over your features as you gasped a little when you were now laying on his chest, Suna adjusting his head on the pillow, enough to see you shaking above him and gives your ass a soft smack, rubbing the soft, globe flesh and squishing it with his hand. Your leotard still pushed to the side, allowing his finger to tease the slit up and down, watching you start to lose yourself above him and push back, hoping to get more friction.

"You said you wanted my cock, right baby?"

You couldn't make out what he was saying, too busy rubbing against the knuckle of his index, clawing his chest to ground yourself. The veins in his arms and hands were noticeable, you can really tell he had been keeping himself together. With you above him, arms pressed to your chest, letting your tits be a show for him, hair fanning your features like some kind of princess as the uniform you were now wearing stuck to your skin from the sweat that had built up. Good thing you had spare ones.

Lining himself up to your cunt, he removes his hand away from you as you cried from the lost. Both of his hands found their way back to your bottom, lifting you up with is before slamming you down to his hard cock with a loud moan erupting from his chest and you left with wide eyes and mouth agape.

"Take it, little girl."

The sudden thrust of his cock stung, but it didn't hurt much. No, it made you shocked, panting as if you were in some sort of heat, tongue sticking out at the feeling of his dick stretching you deliciously, the length and thickness making you feel so stuffed. He felt so deeper in this position, you couldn't move. You felt that if you were to try and thrust up and down, you would break. It was all too much.

Suna felt the same way. His head burnt, spinning like a spell was cast upon him when he was engulfed by the warmth of your cunny. Fuck, your walls kept fluttering and tightening around his cock. Every muscle on his body was flexed as he breathed heavily. You were so heavenly right now, he could cum on the spot inside of you.

"R-rin...So big.."

Covering your mouth with your hands, you tried raising your hips up a little, the lewd friction creating a pleasurable wave to your spine as you sunk down immediately, choking out a moan behind your palms and crying. You couldn't move.

Suna licked his lips at the sight before prying your hands away from your mouth and sitting up against the headboard of the bed, pushing you from the small of your back to his chest closer, his hands roaming around your hot, flushed body and cupping your breast through the fabric. Before you knew it, you squealed loudly when you heard a ripping sound from the chest area.

He had finally ruined the skimpy camisole leotard from you, letting your breast free with his face nuzzling into them and taking a nipple in his mouth. His hands went back to your hips, finally guiding you to a slow rhythm as he thrusts back carefully. Moaning softly, you cradled his head in your arms while he suckles on your nipples. Relishing the soft, yet deep thrusts given to you as each second passes.

"Y-you a-ah..Had to r-rip it, o-oh my—"

Tugging his hair from his roots when he moved to the other breast and bit harshly. He tugged the nippled with his teeth softly before lapping his tongue to soothe away the sting.

"You have spare ones. Besides,"

Pushing away from you, his eyes raked to your entirely new look. The ripped fabric hanging loosely with your breast on display, your cunt being stuffed full with his cock, you and your entire form within his control.

"You look so precious right now."

He delivers one hard thrust that made you fall to his chest, only then do you realize that you were not the one moving, but him all along. His pace quickens, the moans and cries from you onlt fueling him more. Suna shuts his eyes as his senses heightened by you.

"U-unf, hah— I'm sorry!!"

Your tears falling to his chest made him shiver and worry, he tried slowing doen his pace, but he feels your hips move around cutely trying to meet with his movements.

"I-I'm sorry, R-in...Ah— I couldn't mo-move!"

You were apologizing just because you couldn't give him the exact treatment and pleasure he was giving you. Normally, guilt would eat you out at this second, but you were far more succumbed by feeling stuffed, the thought of him cumming inside you blocked all other thoughts away. Precious, absolutely precious.

His hand cupped your cheek, giving it a small pinch of adoration and wiping away the tears that had still been falling from receiving his cock.

"It's okay, let me handle you, sweetheart."

Screaming, he began ramming himself inside of you. It burned, it burned so good it hurts, like your insides were being rearranged. His balls smacking up to your ass that was shaking and being squeezed and slapped by Suna's other hand in repeat. You could only stick your tongue out as you tried to make a sound, but it was all too good all that was left is you sobbing dumbly on his chest with Suna grunting and whispering praises beneath you.

"S-so fucking tight.. God, princess, I feel like ah— 'm gonna break you."

Petting your hair, he doesn't stop his pace. They weren't lying when they said this man uses his entire body to use. Was he so strong and flexible to be able to do this to you. Your balled fist went to grab his hand from your hair, lacing your fingers with his and held his hand, weakly raising your head up.

"A-ah, ah, inside.. Please.. Rin, 'm g-gonna break.. need you. Ngh!! INSIDE!!"

Your voice came out louder at the end when his tip reaches your spot. Moans turning into those you'd hear in pornography feeling your cunt get abused.

"Shit—"

He looked so nefarious; head thrown back, his mouth opening and closing, trying to silent out his own moans to his embarrassment and his hand holding yours tightly. He was to drool for, a real life incubus.

"I-I'm cumming..fuck, take it, baby."

"R-RINTAROU!! N-NO, NO MORE HAH— SLOW DOWN! R-RIN!!"

"SHIT, (Y/N)—"

Your cunt convulsed around his pulsing cock. The rush of adrenaline wrapping themselves to every fiber of your bones as you sobbed loudly, feeling yourself cream for what it's worth around his cock, his own hot, load shooting inside your womb, holding his breath as both your hands gripped each other with toes curling.

"F-fuck, you okay?"

Finishing the last drop, he doesn't pull out immediately. Not wanting to suddenly knock out some oxygen from you, he gives the crown of your head kisses with his thumb stroking the back of your hand. You puffed out breathy pants, body tired and throat scratchy from what happened seconds ago. The redness of your cheeks and the baby hairs the stuck to your forehead made you look so adorable to his eyes, that he leaned forward to kiss your temple.

"T-thank you, Rin...Love you so much."

He can make out the small hearts in your dazed eyes, mewling softly when he accidentally thrusts in while moving his position. Your eyes scrunched up closed, burying yourself on his chest with a small voice,

"Sensitive.."

"I know."

His other arm wrapped around you tightened, rubbing his cheek on your head affectionately. He loved moments like this in doors, just you, him, your bodies as one together in bed. His beautiful, little ballerina in his arms with the soft, baby pink and look on her features and body. It made him smile secretly from you.

"I love you too, my ballerina."

And he began moving again inside of you.

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

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Perfect Imperfections.

Jeon Jungkook x OC

Genre : Arranged Marriage AU! Angst! Explicit Sexual Content.

Rating : 21+

Warnings : Ableism , Chronic disability. OC has limited use of her left leg, Emotional infidelity? Mild Cheating ( nothing very physical.. a kiss or so )

Summary : Marrying Jungkook is a mistake. Falling in love with him? Definitely the worst exercise in masochism .

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[ This is nothing but me indulging my love for writing bad cliches. That is it. Its literally a fest of cliche k drama tropes]

Chapter 1

After the accident, my life had become something of a stagnant pond.

Everyday began much the same.

The alarm, mild but not jarring. Not very shrill but definitely insistent, sweeping away any lingering traces of sleep. I blinked awake, cobwebs of exhaustion still marring my vision but a few deep breaths, a few more blinks and I was awake .

And now came the harder part.

Getting my legs to work.

It never got better, despite the many years that I’d spent in physiotherapy. All it really did was stop it from getting worse. Or maybe I’d just gotten used to the pain at this point.

Deep breaths helped. Sometimes.

But not today.

“Mrs Jeon?” The familiar voice made me jump a little.

“Sana...” I said, relieved. “ Could you come over? Seems like I’m going to need some help today.” I laughed nervously, gripping the sheets harder.” Could you help me sit up?”

The girl moved closer, feet nimble and quick and sure and i felt my throat clench in envy. I swallowed it down though, just the way I swallowed every bad thing that came my way.

It had been eight years ago.

A fall from a fifty feet ravine. Cuts and scrapes all over my body, abrasions all over my torso. And legs that had absolutely shattered on impact. Multiple fractures. Motor Nerve Damage on my left leg.

The skin stitched together. The bones grew back.

But the nerve damage stayed.

I wasn’t completely helpless. I could walk with the brace. Slowly and with a mildly awkward gait but I could walk. Even better if I was using crutches.

But it wasn’t something I could hide.

People looked at me and that was the first thing that they noticed.

The girl who couldn’t walk.

I sat still, gripping the edge of the bed as Sana carefully grabbed the brace and helped me put it on. I watched as she carefully set the loops in place, fixed the velcro and finally helped set my toes in place.

“Thank you.” i whispered and she nodded.

“Mr. Jeon left early. He said that he won’t be home tonight.”

I smiled a little.

“I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to be caught between us. It must make you feel uncomfortable.” I said .

She looked surprised but quickly ducked her head

“No, Mrs. Jeon.”

I sighed.

“You may leave. I’ll come down soon.” I said quietly.

How handsome he looked, in that beautiful dark suit. How strong and handsome and ...whole.

Right next to a framed article about us from a magazine.

Jungkook ran marathons and trained as a boxer. He worked as the managing director at a steel manufacturing unit . Spent his days overseeing workers in the smelting units, and everyone knew that it wasn’t uncommon to see the Jeon heir, shirtless and sweaty and covered in dirt and getting down and dirty with all the other workers as the ore got delivered.

Someone like that... Someone that perfect.... Deserved a woman who would be an equal. Beautiful and graceful and perfect. And he had had her. My sister. For three years, I’d watched my sister and Jungkook be the perfect couple . Deeply in love and so happy.

I watched her leave, gently closing the door behind her, before shifting my gaze to the large portrait on the opposite side of the wall. It was a picture of my husband and I taken on the day we got betrothed.

What they hadn’t counted on was how greedy our parents could be.

Jungkook was the younger son. And his father had long written him off as unreliable. He was wild and headstrong. Had his own ideals and morals. Wouldn’t really bend to his father’s will. So his brother was the one who would be set to inherit the company.

And my father , with his billion dollar empire wasn’t going to give away his precious daughter and all of her inheritance to a paltry second son.

Jungkook’s brother had married my sister. And Jungkook had been forced to marry me. A comedy of errors , except it wasn’t really funny and no one was laughing.

I swallowed. That was seven months ago. The first few weeks had gone in stony silence and hushed whispers. I knew he was talking to my sister. Knew she was sobbing in despair on the other end. My sister and I had never gotten along. And now, she had a genuine reason to despise me.

Three months into marriage he had a small accident at the Manufacturing Unit.A small fall, not that far. Ten feet or so, but he’d crashed into a steel structure on his way down. He had a dislocated shoulder and some flesh wounds. Not that bad.

But my entire body had gone ice cold at the news, when i first heard it.

It was a brutal sort of realization.

That perhaps I wasn’t as indifferent to him as he was to me. Six weeks, with him had changed things. He didn’t talk much, other than the bare minimum but I didn’t hold it against him. I helped him anyway I could. Typed out emails for him. Helped him eat and change.

Hands brushing and time spent together meant tension. And a shift in the way he looked at me, sometimes. I noticed, wasn’t sure if I could act on it. But he was still my husband. And I didn’t really want to spend the rest of my life celibate.

So, even though it was so unlike me... I’d made the first move. Linked my fingers with his. Brushed my lips across his. A gesture that meant a hundred things. A touch that invited more. And he must’ve wanted it, at least physically. Because he indulged me. Gave me a glimpse of heaven on his bed.

And yet, six weeks of being as close as two humans could be didn’t change much.

We were strangers who slept together. Who appeared in public together. Who did everything our family expected of us. And I wasn’t sure how to bridge that awkward gap between us. Jungkook was a fiercely physical person. His free time was spent in the gym , or cycling or hiking.

I couldn’t walk across the room without having to grip the walls for support every few minutes.

Could anyone blame him for being bitter? For being distant? For not knowing what to do with me?

And in all this time , I’d only learnt a handful of things about my husband. How he felt on top of me. How he sounded when he came, how he looked eyebrows furrowed as he talked into his phone and of course, how little he cared about me.

Yes, we would have sex. Yes, he bought me a couple of gifts when he was overseas. But otherwise his heart belonged to my sister. It wasn’t something he hid.

As the days passed, I realized that it was time to keep myself safe. That I couldn’t show him all of me anymore. He was careful with me, guarded and secretive because he was smart. He didn’t want me to know anything about him.

There was a reason. There had to be.

So the best thing to do would be to do the same. Build that distance between us. This was going to crash and burn someday and I had to

And the past few weeks, he’d been busy with more deals. Some kind of MoU with some supplier had gone south and they were looking for different suppliers. Jungkook was busy. I hadn’t seen him in ten days.

And now apparently he had come home and left without so much as seeing me.

Sighing, I moved to the garden, walking slowly to the marble bench set under the large sweetgum tree. I settled down , sighing. I ran a palm over my belly, soft and hesitant.

I was two and half months along. It didn’t show...thanks to the oversized clothes I wore. But it wasn’t the kind of thing you could hide forever. I wasn’t sure why I started hiding it in the first place. It was just that.... I knew that no one would be happy for me. My family would be ecstatic but for the wrong reasons.

I could already imagine .

Finally. Now he can’t leave you.

I felt sick to my stomach at the thought of it. At the thought of someone talking about my baby like some sort of handcuff to lock Jungkook in.

I would have to tell him. Of course. But I didn’t know when or how . I didn’t want to hide it from him. There was no point. But ... I wasn’t quite sure i wanted to see that look of helpless disappointment in his face.

The sound of his car drew me out of my reverie and I startled, glancing over at the wide driveway. I glanced at the time . It was a little past eleven in the morning. What was he doing here?

“Leah! Get inside!” Jungkook’s voice rang out and I jumped.

“Jungkook?” I stared as he all but jumped out of the car rushing to me.

“Come on.. get up.”

“What’s going on..?” I asked, heart pounding as he gripped my elbow, drawing me into his arms.

“Dad fucked up. Got mixed with some shady bastards and apparently, they’ve put a hit out on me and hyung.”

My heart dropped.

“What?!!” I choked out, stunned. “ Jungkook...” My fingers curled over his chest, clutching the

“Don’t worry... we know who it is and we have guys of our own. They’ll take care of it. No one comes for a Jeon and lives to tell the tale. I just wanted to make sure you stayed in. Don’t go anywhere. there are guards all over the place. but i want you to stay home. Okay? Just till this blows over?”

I flinched, legs aching fierce as he led me up the stairs and he stared at me, eyes dripping with worry. The look was so foreign....so unlike the indifference I was used to that I could only stare.

“Are you alright?” He asked urgently and I nodded quickly, hands curving over my stomach instinctively.

“You’ll stay here right? With me...?” I asked softly and Jungkook hesitated.

“I... I need to go check on Lisa.” He said stiltedly and I froze at my sister’s name.

“She’s with her husband, right?” I asked sharply, anger building out of pure fear. “ Why do you-”

“Don’t question me. Go in. Now.” He said quickly and I frowned.

“You don’t have to go there. She has a husband of her own.” I said quietly, voice shaking.

“I have to. I... I have to just go make sure she’s alright.” He snapped angrily and I curled my fingers into fists.

Apparently, even when there was a very real threat to our lives, he would rather risk my life and his than let go of his obsession for my sister. i wanted to vomit. My skin felt clammy and my heart raced. I imagined him doing this when we had a kid....risking our child because he can’t stop thinking of her.... And he would do it..... Of course he would.

“Then go.” i snapped, tears filling my eyes . I yanked my arm out of his, stumbling a bit.

Jungkook looked shocked.

“Leah...” He reached for me but I pulled back and away.

“Go to her and don’t you dare come back here.” I screamed. Jungkook stiffened.

“Leah... enough.”

“You’re right. I’ve had enough . Of your dirty pining. Of you. She’s married for god’s sake. To your brother. They’re together. Its over and done with. Why can’t you just accept it and move on?!!” I choked out. My chest hurt.

“You knew I loved her when you married me.” He snapped back and I laughed in disbelief.

“Yes. And you knew I’d break someday. That I’d someday have enough of you treating me like I was disposable. Isn’t that why you kept at it for so long? You wanted me to be the one break things off right? So you could get out of your father’s anger...unscathed. Well, guess what. You got your wish.... I’m done!! “

He didn’t reply.

“Go inside. I have to go.” He said softly.

I watched as he turned on his heel and stalked back down the driveway.

Was it supposed to hurt this bad? My heart felt a bit like it was cleaving in two. Had I really just told him I had enough? What did that mean? Was I going to leave him? I felt my head spin , worry and fear laced with disbelief.

Someone was out to kill him? How could he be so flippant about it?

I shook my head. The Jeon’s were a weird bunch. Although they were one of the richest families in our society, they lacked any of the charming social graces that came with it. For years, everyone had kept them at arm’s length because while all other families had aristocratic roots and beginnings, the Jeon’s came from a background of mining iron ore and making steel : a rugged and dirty business.

The only reason my father had agreed to

And was I really going to leave him? where did I even begin? I couldn’t leave. I had no home to go to. My parents would take one look at me and send me back to Jungkook. I felt like a prize fool. I was stuck here. For eternity. That was all there was to it.

A decade ago, I’d had a future. But that evening on that mountain trail had changed my life forever. I was , for all intents and purposes disabled. I couldn’t just walk out of here and build a life for myself. I wouldn’t last a day.

I dragged myself to the living space, stopping when i saw how deserted the place looked.

There were usually people bustling about. Especially so close to lunch.

“Sana!!!” I called out, only to be met with the echoing silence of my own voice. And then a few seconds later she appeared ,

“Mrs. Jeon.... Is Mr. Jeon here?”

“He just left... Is everything okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Where is everyone? Are all of you busy?” I asked nervously.

She bowed. “ Yes, ma’am.... The rest of us are cleaning out the pantry and Cook’s in the kitchen. Seul and Leejin are out in the backyard cleaning the statues near the koi pond. Mr. Jeon’s asked all the footmen and guards to stay around the perimeter. Will you need anything else?

“No... I’ll just rest till lunch.” I said gently, waving her off.

She left.

The eerie silence that followed told me there was nothing to do but embrace the loneliness and I hesitated, moving slowly to the window and peering out. I couldn’t see any of the guards either.

My fingers shook a little as I moved slowly to the entryway that led into the dining space. It was dark in here, the light from outside only illuminating the west wall which had large windows set in. I moved to the windows and stared out into the Jeon estate.

Although Jungkook was the younger brother, he had been taxed with maintaining and caring for the family estate. Not because his father trusted him but because the old man knew just how much Jungkook hated the place.

I played with my wedding ring as i remembered the countless times I’d watched the two of them fight, Jungkook coldly still while his father hurled abuses at him. Jeon Jaesook considered his son to be incompetent and disobedient, which made little to no sense to me.

As far as i knew Jungkook had helped increase production and had cut down operating costs significantly over the seven years that he’d been working as the managing Director at Jeon Steelworks.

But it was obvious the old man favored Jihyun, Jungkook’s older brother. Jihyun worked in the air conditioned offices located in Gangnam, the CEO taking care of all their sales and marketing while Jungkook , who had an actual degree in Business spent his days slaving away at the smelting Units, a job that was physically and mentally exhausting.

And while it always made my stomach twist, this unfair treatment he got subjected to, there wasn’t much i could do. My father had made it clear that he wouldn’t agree to the investment, unless both his daughters married the Jeon brothers. And Jungkook’s father had made it clear that if Jungkook didn’t agree , he would be out on the streets without a penny to his name.

My leg began aching and I turned back around ready to go settle into my workroom where I usually worked on my writing when I heard his footsteps. I glanced up, frowning.

Jungkook stood in the doorway staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face.

I stared at him for a few seconds, waiting for him to say something.

When he didn’t, I sighed.

“Did you think I was going to leave?” I asked bitterly.

He sighed.

“I’m not going to cheat on you. “

I nodded.

“I suppose you want me to thank you for that?” I shook my head. “ You don’t have to keep your worthless vows. Go sleep with her. Why would it make a difference to me?”

He exhaled sharply.

“I thought you understood.” He said sharply.

“I did. I do.” I said curtly “ I understand that my parents screwed the two of you over. I understand that you had to do something you absolutely did not want to. But there’s something you need to understand too. Just because I’ve accepted this, it doesn’t mean I enjoy it. It doesn’t mean I have to be happy about my husband being in love with another woman, much less my own sister.”

Jungkook nodded.

“Right. Got it. “ He said curtly and I flinched when another muscle twitch told me I’d been standing for too long.

“I’m going to go lay down.”

“Do you need me to get you a heating pad? For the leg? Or send one of the girls to massage your legs?” He asked softly, stepping closer and lightly gripping my elbow when my knees buckled.

I didn’t have much choice than to grip his forearm, because the pain was intensifying from pins and needles to proper muscle spasms. Sweat began to bead on my upper lip and i felt just a little faint.

“Yes. “ I said , feeling pathetic. I should have used the crutches. It had been a bad day even when I woke up. I should have sensed it and taken the proper measures.

“Leah... Should I run a warm bath for you? “ Jungkook's lips brushed my ear when he leaned to hold my weight up and i stiffened.

“That won’t be necessary. I just need help back up to the bed, thank you.” I said shortly. He looked uncertain and shook his head.

“ okay, but I’ll get Sana to run you a warm bath and make you some willowbark Tea.” He said quietly, and when I stumbled a bit on the first step he swore.

“This isn’t going to work.... Come here.” He said gruffly and before I could protest he bent low, gripping the back of my knees and pulling me up into his arms.

i swallowed, head spinning as I cradled the curve of my lower belly.

Tell him... Tell him... Tell him...

I felt my head throb as I kept my arms wrapped tight around his shoulders.

“I’m pregnant .” i blurted out.

Jungkook stumbled , nearly sending the both of us tumbling down the flight of stairs and i clung to him in terror. Okay, maybe the timing could have been better.

“What?” He looked ashen. Like he’d seen an actual ghost.

“Just thought you should know.” I muttered under my breath.

We reached the landing and he didn’t say anything, looking away from me, his jaw taut and lips set in a thin line. I felt my throat go sandpaper dry. He waited till we were safely in the confines of our bedroom, placing me down on the bed gently and moving to close the door and lock it.

I stared up at the ceiling, refusing to look at his face.

“ Leah-”

“Its fine. You don’t have to say anything. I didn’t know till a week ago myself.”

Silence.

“Have you told your parents?”

I exhaled sharply.

“No.”

“Mine?”

“No...”

“Then would you consider.... “ He trailed off and i finally stared at him.

“No.” I said softly.

He sighed.

“Alright. Should I book an appointment with Dr. Lee?”

I laughed.

“How very practical of you..” i said.

“What else do you expect from me..”

“Not even an ounce of support, that’s for sure.” I snapped and he growled.

“You want me to lie? Fine.. I’m happy!! So fucking happy that we’re bringing an innocent kid into our fucked up family. ” He shouted.

This was why I didn’t want to tell him, I thought bitterly.

“You’re the only one who’s fucked up, Jungkook. I’m perfectly fine with myself and my choices. I can give my baby all the stability they might ever need.”

“ That’s not hat I'm talking about. do you know what its like to grow up with parents who can’t stand each other?” Jungkook shouted.

I gaped at him. Can’t stand each other? Is that how he saw us?

“As long as you don’t walk out on us, we’ll be fine.” I muttered despondently.

“ Don’t worry about that. I’m not going to run away from my responsibilities. ” He said quietly.

I finally turned to look at him, placing both my hands on my stomach.

“Do you want me to leave you?” I asked honestly.” Have you ever thought about it?”

He didn’t say anything.

“So you have.” I smiled sadly. It wasn’t surprising but it did hurt.

“Of course I have. You’re Lisa’s sister and Lisa is my... “ He paused, shaking his head, “ But, I know you can’t. I don’t expect you to either.” He said gruffly, grabbing the intercom.

I watched as he called the housekeeper, firing off instruction for Sana and then to the cook to send some tea for me. He hung up and turned to me again.

“Lisa and I are going to go to Japan for a week. She has a conference there and I’m going to scout for locations just in case we open up a distribution office there.”

I turned away.

“ You don’t have to tell me all that. You didn’t before, i don’t want you to start now.” I said firmly.

He didn’t reply and i turned back to stare at the ceiling.

Jungkook hovered for a few seconds before moving closer to the bed and grabbing the comforter and a couple of pillows. I felt a lump in my throat as he carefully picked my leg up, placing the pillows underneath. i was almost numb from the thigh down.

i closed my eyes as he carefully pulled the comforter over my waist, folding it over my chest.

“Rest well.” He said quietly before walking away. i heard the door opening and then closing.

i waited till I heard his footsteps fades away before opening my eyes and staring at the ceiling.

I should probably put some paintings up there, I thought.

Author’s Note : This entire fic can be summed up as me not having any self control.

#jungkook arranged marriage #bts arranged marriage #bts fic #bts arranged marriage fic #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkok fanfics #bts famnfics #bts fanfics

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gale-gentlepenguin · 3 years

Text

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 34

Man these parts are getting harder and harder to churn out. A lot of plot points converging and real life ramping up. Hopefully you all enjoy this. Please comment your thoughts on the chapter. And if you really liked it, Reblog it. Thats the best way to get others to see it. Also, Please let me know your thoughts. Your comments fuel me.

(Master Post)

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Masquerade surveyed the classroom. Her former classmates now her masked servants. It was fitting how they were all silent. Before, they listened to her because she told them exactly the things they wanted to hear, now they listened because she had power over them. It was kind of poetic in a way.

She looked across the classroom, she realized that there seemed to be more people missing than she initially realized.

“We are missing someone. Aside from Marinette, who is missing?”

The controlled classmates looked amongst themselves. Trying to figure out who was the one that was not in the class.

“Is it Chloé?” Miracular inquired, trying to answer her master’s request.

The akuma looked around.

“Huh… Oh yea, she isn’t here. Well she isn’t important. I was thinking someone else.” Masquerade answered. She looked to her most recently made akuma servant.

The Bubbler, the akumatized version of Nino stood motionless. As if he was not registering what was going on.

“Bubbler? Do you know who is missing?”

The multicolored akuma said nothing. Not even looking in the direction of the mask maiden.

“Bubbler! I order you to answer me!” She commanded with fiery rage.

The akuma turned to face his master, now responding.

“Adrien is missing.” The bubbler answered, his voice robotic and as emotive as a speak and spell.

“So, Adrien isn’t in the room. What a shame. I was planning on turning him into my handsome little knight.”

Masquerade thought for a moment.

Has Adrien been akumatized? Lila wasn’t sure she had ever seen or heard about him getting akumatized. She knew that the class had pretty much gotten hit at least once or twice at some point from what she had heard and read from the ladyblog. But if that goody-goody Marinette hadn’t been akumatized, Adrien likely hadn’t been akumatized either.

“Alright my servants! We have a new mission. I want you to lock this school down! No one is allowed in or out. Anyone you find, bring them to me. If they can be akumatized, then they are joining our cause.”

“Time breaker. Guard the perimeter outside of the school. Anyone outside of Ladybug and Chat noir trying to get in. Tag them, but only if they are suspicious of what’s going on. Stay hidden otherwise.”

“Timebreaker nodded and began skating out of the room in a rush.

“Horrificator, once Timebreaker is outside, seal all the exits in the main building.”

The masked monstress nodded and sped out of the room.

“Dark Cupid, Stoneheart, Princess Fragrance, Miracular and Reflekta. I want you to split up check all of the rooms and bring me potential akumas.”

The five akuma nodded and made their way out the door.

“Gamer and Robostus. I want you to hack into the airwaves. I want access to every Electric device in Paris when I give you the signal. But make sure to be subtle. I don’t want anyone to know about us until I tell you.”

The two nod and start working to get that ready for her.

She focuses her attention to the bubble making akuma that was giving her problems earlier.

Considering how hard it was to break him down, it was understandable. She had saved him for last for a reason. Because he was the hardest one to crack.

He was a relatively calm individual, able to keep a level head. But even he had his weakness. His confidence. Once that was shaken, seeing his entire class taken, knowing his girlfriend was under her control, he couldn't resist another moment. In a way, it was the most satisfying charm on her bracelet.

“Now Bubbler, you are going to go and locate Marinette and Adrien for me. Put them in a bubble and bring them to me. Help that girlfriend of yours.”

The bubbler nodded yes despite severe shaking. Seems even now he is trying to resist the control of the mask.

“Troublesome, but it is only temporary. He will break soon enough.” Masquerade mused to herself.

She looked at the near empty room with contempt. This was hardly a place where she could exact her vengeance. It was so… lame. Though a thought occurs as she realized who she had left standing at attention without orders.

“Evillustrator, I have a special request for you.”

________________________________________________________

“What is this?” Chloé screeched. “My daddy bought me the best phone plan in the city. How can I not have service right now?!”

The nurse felt a chill run down her spine. Could the akuma block out phone signals? Is that why there is no attention being given to the school? How could they call for help? How would anyone know of the akuma attack? Would Ladybug and Chat noir be able to help them?

The nurse started to feel herself going pale, she was just supposed to be a school nurse. Worst thing she needed to deal with was a scraped knee or give a kid an ice pack. Now she has a woman that collapsed on the bed and an akuma that is somewhere in the school. She had just moved to Paris a few months ago. It was her dream to live in the city of love, get her career going, find a nice guy, and just live the good life. But no one told her that supervillain attacks would be so personally connected to her situation? She had heard about this crap in New York and in America. But Paris? It was too much. What if Ladybug and Chat noir didn’t fix everything? What if this was where her story ended. What if…

“Hey!”

The nurse turned to her attention to the voice. It was the brash blonde teen that was complaining.

“You look like you’re going to pass out. Just a heads up, I am not taking care of you.” Chloé commented.

Angela felt her face heat up with annoyance.

“Listen you brat. I don’t have time to deal with your attitude. I have a woman that is out cold from exhaustion in a building with a hostile akuma.”

“Good, at least you aren’t going to faint. I don’t need any more whinny women fainting on me”

The nurse paused, did the girl say that just to help her not succumb to the grim situation?

Chloé started making her way to the door.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“You already got your hands full with the annoying assistant. I need to make a call to daddy. So, I am going to head out the building and try there. Try not to get ripped apart by an akuma, I still need more ice when I get back.”

Angela blinked. This girl wasn’t scared of the akuma. She was actually going out to do something reasonable. If she could call for help, it would mean that this whole thing blows over.

“Okay, I’ll stay here. Be safe.”

“Yea whatever.”

Chloé headed out the door.

Angela felt a ghost of a smile grace her face.

‘Maybe that girl isn’t a complete brat after all.’

__________________________________________________

The shapeshifting sentimonster growled as it smacked the locker. It lost both primary targets. And worst of all, Ladybug appeared to make this even harder. Masquerade needed to hear about this.

“Master, Marinette and Adrien have escaped my sight.”

The sentimonster heard a sigh of disappointment from the other end.

“It is fine Simularé, They wont be able to escape the school anyway. They will be found soon enough. If anything, this is a blessing in disguise. Having them be the last targets will have them bare witness to how devasting it will all be.” Masquerade answered. “Any news on Ladybug and Chat noir?”

“That’s the other bad news. Ladybug arrived, I am assuming that’s how Marinette managed to escape, and ladybug also took Adrien away as well. No sign of chat noir. But if you know one is here, the other is likely soon to follow.”

There was a brief moment of silence, as masquerade mulled over the information she had received.

“Actually, that works out well for us. Meet up at my location, I have the other students out looking for them, I need your power for something more important.”

“Yes master.”

Simularé shifted back into its phantom form, moving quickly down the hallway to obey her master’s request.

Just as it left, Ladybug popped out of a nearby locker. Relieved it didn’t notice.

“That’s not good, Masquerade likely got everyone in the classroom.” The red heroine said aloud.

She activated her communicator and tried to contact chat noir. But there was no sound.

“Damn it. No signal. Lila likely cut the communication as soon as she realized it.?”

“No worries Buggaboo, I happen to be on site.” A voice called out.

Chat noir jumped out of another locker to reveal he was there.

Ladybug felt a bit of relief at her partner’s appearance. She could tell he felt the same. Better a situation with two heroes.

“Been here the whole time?” The spotted heroine asked her cat crimefighting comrade.

“Just arrived a few minutes ago, I figured something was up, so I decided to take a quick peek. Cat curiosity and all that.”

“And you assumed it was with Collège Françoise Dupont?”

“It seemed like a solid guess.”

“Considering the track record, that is reasonable.” Ladybug conceded.

“Ever wonder why it is always this school and never any of the other schools? Paris is a big city. You would think Hawkmoth would decide to branch out to the other schools in the city.” Chat noir inquired as they started walking down the hall.

“I assumed its just a coincidence.”

“Shot in the dark, maybe he has a kid that goes here. He is pretty old” Chat noir dissed.

“I can’t imagine anyone that would want to date Hawkmoth.” Ladybug joked.

“What about the blue lady? She seemed crazy enough.”

“And now that image is burned in my mind. Thanks kitty.” Ladybug sarcastically commented. “Despite the mental scarring, I am glad you got here. Seems a repeat offender got herself an upgrade in the akuma powers department.”

“Lila.”

“How did you know?”

“I was reading the ladyblog, Alya did great work on that article.” Chat noir praised. He mentally applauded his quick thinking.

“Right, kind of the reason I felt the need to keep an eye on this place. But sadly, I was too slow.” Ladybug responded a tad gloomy.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. We will finish this akuma before lunch.”

Ladybug heard a footstep from the end of the hallway.

“Get down!”

Ladybug tackled the cat hero down. Just narrowly avoiding a neon pause symbol, which now suck on the wall.

“Looks like Lila has been busy.” Chat noir noted as he turned his face to the direction of the attacker.

Ladybug looked at the akuma. The white mask covering her friend’s face. Lady Wifi was back.

“Alya…”

The two heroes got into a fighting stance and prepared to take down this controlled akuma.

________________________________________________

The halls were empty and lifeless as the two visiting teens made their way cautiously down the halls.

“Oddly quiet in here.” The fencer commented. “What do you think Luka?”

“Well last time we entered a place with an akuma in it, it was brimming with armored minions. Maybe this akuma has more stealth?” The Musician commented. “So, I don’t think you will be fighting as directly as you are use to Kagami.”

Kagami nodded at that, not exactly happy or sad regarding that remark. Her plan was to see if she could help her friends get out of the building, grab her textbook, and get out. She wasn’t really that interested in fighting a superpowered foe at this moment in time.

The two ceased speaking when they heard approaching footsteps.

“Someone’s coming.” Luka noted.

The two duck into the nearest room.

The two stayed close to the door as they listened to the sound of the approaching figure.

Kagami dropped to the floor silently as to check and see if she could get a visual.

She could only see what appeared to be costume boots of a larger figure. Which made the expert fencer believe it was not friendly.

The figure stopped, looking at the door. The two teens felt their neck hairs stand on edge as they did their best not to make a sound.

After what felt like an eternity, the figure passed the door without checking. Once the sound of his footsteps could no longer be heard, they let out a sigh of relief.

“That was way too close for comfort.”

“Agreed. I would prefer a direct confrontation next time, much less nerve-racking. “

The two carefully open the door and exit the room.

“Seems we found the akuma.” Luka commented. “Now we just need to avoid it and.”

“You mean akumas.” Kagami corrected.

“Akumas?”

Kagami tilted the boys head to look in the same direction she was looking, and sure enough she saw a rather large rock like creature walking the halls.

“Oh… well that is bad.”

Kagami pushed him back into the room and closed the door. Locking it before the rock giant could notice them.

“I’m surprised.”

“By the fact there is an 8-foot-tall rock beast outside?”

“No, by the fact you didn’t try to fight it.”

“I don’t have a weapon.” Kagami replied flatly.

Luka raised a brow at the comment, unsure if the fencer was serious or not about fighting that thing if she had a foil.

“Is something wrong?” A third voice came from behind them.

The two teens turned around, preparing for the worst. Though they were relieved to see it was just an old janitor… in a Hawaiian shirt. Despite his odd dress, he did give off a kind aura. One of a trusting old grandpa.

They noticed that the room seemed to be a sort of teacher’s lounge, with a small counter with a sink and cabinets. As well as a fridge to keep food cold and stored. A place in the school where teachers would come to get a quick coffee or store their lunch.

“Oh good, you aren’t an akuma.” Luka sighed with relief.

“An akuma?” The old man asked.

“Yes, it is very dangerous out there right now. There are multiple villains outside. I would recommend staying put while we go out there and help handle things.” Kagami explained.

“Quite bold of you to go out there against those monsters.” The man responded.

“Don’t worry, we will be careful. We just need to make sure we can get as many people out as we can so Ladybug and Chat noir won’t need to worry.”

“Ah, how selfless of you. You both seem quite capable for ones so young.”

“You’re very kind, but we are just doing what we can. Our friends are out there and they need our help.”

Kagami goes to the door. Checking to ensure the coast is clear again.

The old man pats the musician’s shoulder.

“I am sure you two will figure a way to help your friends.”

“There are too many outside this room.” Kagami grumbled. If only I had a way to fight them.”

The mysterious janitor smiled.

“Say… I did happen to see Ladybug earlier.”

The two teens turned their attention to the old man.

“You did?” they asked in unison.

“Yes, she happened to drop something while rushing. Would you two be so kind as to return them to her when you see her.”

The two of them glance at each other and shrug. The old janitor might be senile.

“Sure… We can give it to her.” Luka assured the old man, trying to remain polite.

The old man moves to a closet, where out of view of the two teens, an elaborate chest with the symbol of the guardian’s decorates the top. He quickly gets two smaller boxes and closes the closet.

“Ah! Here they are.”

He hands the two a small box each. Their eyes go wide.

“They seemed important, so I didn’t want to just leave them on the floor. But I have a feeling you two will take good care of them.”

The two teens were engrossed by the boxes in their hands. They recognized them immediately. These were the boxes Ladybug used when handing out miraculous.

“Where did you find…?” Kagami tried to question, but noticed the old man was no longer there.

“He’s gone…”

“Actually, I am over here.”

The teens look in the opposite direction they were looking in order to see him at the end of the room getting a snack from the fridge.

The duo decided that maybe this old guy wasn’t all there after all and figured it would be best to go somewhere and utilize the ‘gift’ they were just given.

“Stay in the lounge where it’s safe okay?” Luka asked politely.

“Of course. I am not paid if I am not working.”

The two teens checked the door again, and once the coast was clear. They both slipped out of the room.

After he knew they were out of sight, the old man chuckled.

“The senile routine works every time.”

“Master, you really cut it close with that one.” A small turtle creature exclaimed as he popped out from the closet.

“The universe works in mysterious ways Wayzz. What are the odds that there would be an attack on the school the very day I decide to hide out as a janitor?”

“Considering the frequency of akuma attacks, very likely.”

“True, but how about running into two individuals that Marinette had picked to be heroes.” Fu followed up.

“That is quite a coincidence.”

The guardian pulled out his phone and noticed he didn’t have a signal.

“It seems I can’t get a signal to notify her of the reinforcements I sent her way. Likely it would be the same on her end. So, it is a good thing I acted in advance.”

Fu moved to the closet where he kept the miraculous.

“I can’t help but shake the feeling Ladybug and Chat noir will need all of the help they can get.

“Don’t worry master, I am sure Ladybug and Chat noir will be successful.

“Let us keep an eye on things. They might need another ally to turn the tide.

________________________________________________________

“I am guessing you are also familiar with what’s inside here?” Kagami inquired as the two stealthily moved in the hall.

“I may be familiar with it.” Luka commented.

Kagami contemplated the statement. She figured out the truth.

“Seems we both have used a miraculous then?”

“It appears we have. Though I am not sure Ladybug will be thrilled that someone knows I have helped her.”

“I understand the sentiment. Though lets simply agree to keep it between us.” Kagami answered. “Friends do keep secrets like that if I’m correct.”

Luka smiled at the comment.

“Your secret is safe with me.” Luka assured.

“As is yours.”

The two found the locker room and quickly moved inside.

“Coast is clear.”

The two opened the boxes and as they did two magical creatures appeared in front of them.

A floating creature with multiple spikes appeared in front of the fencer, while another floating creature that resembled a cobra stood in front of luka.

“It is a pleasure to see you again Mistress Kagami.”

“It’s been too long, Longg.” Kagami smiled. Happy to see her kwami friend.

“Hello Luka, itssss been a while.” The snake kwami greeted.

“Happy to see you too Sass.” Luka fist bumped his kwami.

The kwamis stop and turn to see the other kwami there.

“Does Ladybug know about this?” They both ask in unison.

“We will inform her after. Right now, there is a lot of danger.” Kagami exclaimed. “Ladybug needs our help.”

The two kwami nod and prepare to fight.

“Consssider us accomplissses.” Sass answered.

The two teens put on the miraculous.

“Sass! Scales Slither.”

“Longg! Bring the storm”

The two teens transform into their heroic alter egos.

Kagami shifting into the dragon miraculous hero Ryuuko, and Luka changing into the Snake hero Viperion.

The two stop to glance at the other.

“So, what should I call you.” The snake hero asked curiously.

“Call me Ryuuko. And what about you mister snake?”

“Viperion is what I am going with.”

“Fitting.”

“As is yours.”

The two give a nod of comradery before making their way out of the locker room. They had to go help Ladybug.

__________________________________________________

Ladybug dashed across the hallway, avoiding pause symbols being flung at her by the conniving akuma.

She slid underneath one of the symbols and preformed a daring slide kick to knock Lady Wifi off balance.

While she was unstable, Chat noir charged and used his baton to make contact with her white mask. Believing it was the obvious weak point.

“Got it!” Chat noir exclaimed triumphantly. The strike of the staff knocking Ladywifi a good several meters. Before lying flat on her back.

“Wow, that is a tough mask. I thought for sure that was the weak point.” Chat noir commented.

Lady Wifi stood up robotically.

“There must be a way to snap her out of it. Unless Hawkmoth is learning from his mistakes.” Ladybug hypothesized as she got up from the ground.

“Well I got nothing.” Chat noir shrugged.

Another set of footsteps approaching caught the hero’s attention. The recognized the multicolored bubble maker the moment they saw him.

“Nino… You too?” Chat noir said under his breath.

The Bubble maker used his bubble wand to summon two large bubbles to capture the heroes. Bringing back flashbacks of their first encounter with the bubble akuma.

Chat noir and Ladybug expertly slide between the gaps of the attack, resulting in Lady Wifi getting hit with the large bubbles and being sent flying into the wall via bubble prison.

Chat noir lunged at the Bubbler, his quick pounce pinning him down before he could attack.

“Maybe I can destroy his mask with…”

“Wait Chat noir!” Ladybug called out.

Chat noir paused.

“What if your cataclysm doesn’t free him?”

“And then I am left without the power before a recharge.”

“Exactly. We need to hold off on using our powers right now.”

Chat noir wanted to save his friend. But he knew his partner was right. They needed to conserve their powers before facing Lila.

The Bubbler managed to get the cat hero off of him with a burst of strength. Knocking Chat noir to the ground.

Lady Wifi had gotten free from the bubble attack and was now blocking the other entrance.

Ladybug and Chat noir moved back to back, Ladybug facing the ladyblogger turned mindless akuma slave and Chat noir facing the akumatized DJ.

“Any ideas, Buggaboo?”

“Seems they can’t adapt. They are pretty much mindless slaves. Which makes sense since Lila wouldn’t want them to think for themselves.”

“So you’re saying their movements are simple.”

“Which means they are exploitable.”

Chat noir felt relief watch over him. He knew Ladybug had a plan.

_____________________________________________________

“EWWWW!” Chloé screeched in disgust. The front entrance to the school had been covered in a pink slime.

She wiped her hand on the cleanest section of wall she could find. This was not her day.

“What is with this nasty gross akuma? First, I can’t call Daddy to come and pick me up. I can’t even post about it! How will Ladybug know to save me? Or better yet, get me the bee miraculous so I can help her save the day?”

Chloé decided to try another exit, since she had no plans of sticking around without knowing if she was going to be given a miraculous or not. Plus, she did say she would call for help, and doing that would make her look good in potential hero points.

As she was walking, she bumps into something in the middle of the hall. Which was bizzare since the hall was clear.

“Ouch, right on my bruise. What the hell is…”

Chloé felt her anger shift to fear when she watched as the empty hall now contained a familiar akuma.

“Sabrina?”

The akuma turned to her, her face covered with a white face mask.

“Eww. Your akuma form looks even tacker than before.”

“Take potential akuma to master.” The akumatized Sabrina stated in an emotionless tone. Repeating the order, she had been given.

“Oh no you don’t! Sabrina, I order you to listen to me!”

The akuma ignored the blonde’s command and slowly walked towards her.

“Sabrina… I am warning you. I am going to yell at you over this later if you don’t stop right now.”

Chloé started slowly backing away. She wasn’t sure of what to do.

“Listen… if you stop right now… I’ll uh… let you take a pick of one of my old sweaters.” Chloé bargained, not intending to let her pick one of the ones she actually liked.

Chloé felt her hand touch the sealed door, and knew she was at the end of the hall. She was boxed in.

“This is so unacceptable.” Chloé stated, preparing to get captured. But a flash of Red and Black came out of nowhere and kicked the akuma hard to the wall.

“Ladybug! I knew you would like save me!” Chloé jumped and hugged her savior.

“Im not ladybug.” The heroine spoke.”

Chloé released the hug as she examined who her savior was.

“Who the hell are you?”

Chloé had never bothered to learn the names of any of the other miraculous heroes. She sometimes forgets chat noir’s name.

“Ryuuko.” The dragon heroine stated calmly, almost regretting saving Chloé.

“Did Ladybug send you? Cause it would have been better if she got me to help.”

Ryuuko decided to ignore Chloé’s comment.

“Now we need to leave before she… Where did she go?” Looking at the dented locker that no longer had an akuma lying on the ground.

Suddenly the akuma popped out of nowhere about to strike from above with her tonfa and steal Ryuuko’s powers, but was stopped when a small harp smacked her face.

“She appears to have invisibility.” A voice called out.

The two turn to see the snake hero as he caught his harp on the rebound.

Chloé took a moment to look over the snake hero. She had to admit, he was pretty cute. Not Adrien cute, maybe she would start learning the names of the other heroes.

“Quick thinking Viperion.” Ryuuko thanked the snake teen.

“Just following your lead.” Viperion responded. The two giving eachother a respectful smile. They both seemed to have gotten used to working together.

The akuma got up. Its white face mask making the akuma’s expression unreadable. But its body language exuded rage.

“Seems we aren’t going anywhere until she is taken care of.” Ryuuko said as she stared down the akuma.

Viperion turned to chloé.

“You need to go and get to safety.”

“Okay!” Chloé says as she runs off.

“How come she didn’t give you any sass?”

“Because I already have him.”

Kagami had to admit that was a clever response.

“Not what I meant, but Chat noir would love that joke.”

“I will be sure to tell him it later.”

“Stick to playing guitar. You’re a better musician than comedian.”

Before they could get off anymore banter. The akuma went for another attack.

________________________________________________________

Simularé entered Ms.Bustier’s classroom.

“I am here.” The ghostly sentimonster announced.

“Excellent.”

The sentimonster looked up to see that the classroom it was expeciting to see had been altered into what appeared to be a rather glamourous throne room. The windows covered by white curtains with the design of an akuma in black. The platforms and stairs had been altered to be marble. And at the top, where Lila’s desk once was was now a golden throne akin to something one would see in a castle. Though despite the impressive change in the classroom it was still being designed. The akuma known as the evillustrator was still creating more furnishings for the room.

“Simulare, I have an order for you.” Masquerade stated as she sat on the new throne. Clearly confident in her position.

The sentimonster approached her master. Stopping only a few feet away.

“I want you to create a mirage over the school. Since Ladybug is already in the school. It would be best if you made sure no one notices whats happening here. I don’t need any additional heroes popping in yet. Let’s handle her before making things public.”

Simularé nodded.

“Understood. But what should we do if she…”

“I have everything under control. Just follow my orders.”

Simularé ceased her questioning.

“As you wish master.”

The sentimonster shifted into her Volpina form and headed out of the classroom.

“She is getting arrogant in her power. If things do go south, I will need to step in.” Simularé said to herself. But for now, she knew she had a role to play.

_____________________________________________________________

And that ends part 34.

Seems things are REALLY heating up. Will Viperion and Ryuuko be able to help Ladybug and Chat noir?

Will Ladybug and Chat noir be able to get through to their brainwashed friends?

Will Masquerade's gambit be enough for her to get her vengeance?

Whats Simularé's deal?

Find out by staying tuned and sharing. Remember Reblogs help content creators and if you do enjoy my content, the support really does help

593 notes · View notes

wonderwomanfantasy · 3 years

Text

Stress relief

mind your bisnuess I’m working through some shit

Atsumu x reader

warnings: smut, just- so much smut, Oral, car sex, fingering, Daddy kink, degradation, marking, ass play, dirty talk,Brat taming, slut shaming AND virgin shaming (we got it all folks), hair pulling, cum play, creampie, breading kink, drinking/ Drunk sex, angst annnnnd swearing.

word count: 4,800 (about) (yes really get off my back)

summary: Atsumu is a dick, but he’s got a good dick at least you have no idea how mad I am I’ve already used the title Enemy with Benifits.

“Are- Are you fucking kidding me?” you asked, Atsumu just shrugged.

“No, I’m not fucking kidding you what’s your deal?” he said casually. You took a deep breath. You had been trying to work on your anger issues, Not blowing up on people over nothing. But this really felt like something worth blowing up over.

“Myia, be honest with me, do you think I’m stupid?” you asked. He smirked.

“I think you’re a lot of things babe-” you stood up getting in his face jabbing your finger in his chest cutting off his no doubt horrendous flirting.

“You fucking ripped off you’re entire part of the project! How the fuck did you think no one would notice?” you shouted. You had known this was going to be a train wreck the moment Atsumu was assigned as your partner. He was such a fucking moron, he’d only gotten into this College because of his sports scholarship. You would have been better working on your own.

“I cited the article I copied, what's the deal?” he snapped, the volume of your voice irking him.

“That’s not how this fucking works you can’t just hit copy-paste and call it a day the point is you come up with your own ideas, although in your defense I’m not sure you’re brain could manage something like that,” you shouted. He sneared.

“I’ll rewrite it just stop being a bitch alright?” he scoffed, turning to leave your dorm room. You wanted to hit him, how dare he call you a bitch when you were just looking out for his dumb ass. Even high schoolers knew you’d be expelled for plagiarising. Once Atsumu left you slumped back in your seat looking at the presentation open on your laptop. You were already so busy but somehow you’d have to find enough time to do half of the project unless you wanted to fail that was.

“Hey, you’re working with (y/n) on your project right?” Osamu asked, setting his volleyball up in the air over and over again.

“Yeah, they totally blew up on me today so now I gotta redo the whole thing,” Atsumu sighed

“They’re hot though,” his brother said. Atsumu smiled to himself, remembering your angry face as you chewed him out.

“Really hot,” he agreed.

“Are you gonna fuck them?”

“Of course, they might an asshole but they want me,”

“Hey (y/n),” you looked up at the sound of your name only to groan seeing Atsumu run towards you. He had clearly just come from practice, he was still in his jersey. Fucking jocks.

He probably thought he looked hot, with a light sheen of sweat that made his skin glow and tousled hair. He did look hot, it made you want to kick his shins.

“If you aren’t going to tell me that you finished your half of the presentation I don’t want to hear it,” you snapped.

“Well then you aren’t going to be happy then but there’s a game this weekend, you should come, cheer for me,” he said winking. You rolled your eyes.

“I was already planning on going, but you’re nuts if you think I’m gonna cheer for you,” you snapped, still a little heated about your last encounter with him.

“And why not?” he asked, smirking, it pissed you off. You just knew he thought he looked so cute smiling at you like that.

“I cheer for winners,”

You and Atsumu were at each other’s throats for the rest of the year. Atsumu Gave up on his plan to sleep with you and you gave up on your anger management, at least around him. If other people were in this situation they might stay away from their sworn enemy, but not you two.

You made it to every volleyball game just to tell Osamu how great he did and how handsome he was looking today. Atsumu sat next to you in every class you shared talking your ear off making sure that you didn’t learn a damn thing.

It was annoying as hell, you wanted to strangle him, but it was nice in a kind of way. If you were stressed or pissed off you could drag Atsumu as a little fun. And even if nothing else in your life was going right. You could always count on this blonde dick to be the worst to you.

“Damn we had the exterminator here last week but there’s a roach right here,” Atsumu sneered over the thumping music at the party. You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“You need to look up more insults you’ve already used that one,” you barked back, normally seeing Atsumu would be enough to dampen your mood but the booze must have been doing its job because you still felt all light and buzzed.

“Beer?” he asked, holding up a bottle for you, ever the gracious host.

“I’m good,” you said holding up the can of seltzer you’d been drinking out of it was fruity and only had a little bite to it, you were already on your third one.

“Right I forgot that a baby like you couldn’t handle the taste of beer,” he scoffed, he was closer now, towering over you and pressing one of his forearms to the wall by your head as he leaned over you, shielding you from the rest of the party. You never realized before how big he was. Tall and wide. Muscular too, it was no wonder half the people at the Volleyball games creamed themselves just seeing him.

“You’re such a dick, why do you always have to be so mean?” you asked before even realizing the words that you’d spoken.

“You aren’t exactly nice either princess, besides that’s how this works, that’s our dynamic,” he said. He must be pretty drunk too. Nothing he was saying was making any sense.

“Still, how do you expect anyone to put up with you when you’re such a douche bag all the time?” you said the anger you associated with Atsumu finally setting in.

“If it works it works, I mean you’re obsessed with me,” he said. You gagged and shoved his chest, he didn’t move, god how strong was he?

“Fuck off I hate you, why would I be obsessed with you? God you think that the world fucking revolves around you. How could any-”

His lips met yours effectively shutting you up. His hand came up cupping the back of your head and you couldn’t help but melt into the kiss, pressing your body against his and dropping your drink so your hands would be free to rake through his hair. You weren’t nice about the kiss either, your teeth gnashed against his when he tried to push his tongue into your mouth. You bit his lower lip and tugged at his hair, moaning against his mouth when he did the same to you.

He broke away breathlessly, still holding you close to his body while you caught your breath. He was so pretty his cheeks flushed his lips wet and glossy. God, you wanted to kiss him again, even if he tasted like beer and he had been right in his assessment that you weren’t a big fan of the taste.

“Good to know theirs one way to shut you the fuck up,” he teased. You groaned in frustration pulling him back down into another kiss. This one was just as passionate and fierce as the first. He pushed you against the wall and pulled up one of your legs and forced it around his waist so he could grind against you. You shuddered feeling him rut the seam of your jeans against your clit.

“Woulda fucked you a lot sooner if i'd known you made such pretty noises when you were touched,” he muttered reaching up and palming your breast through your shirt. Atsumu started kissing, or maybe biting was a better word. The top part of your neck even pays some attention to your jaw and earlobe while he humped and groped you.

“I knew you were a pervert but I never knew you were filthy enough to fuck me out in the open like this,” you gasped, tugging at his hair. You could feel your panties get sticky with your arousal and you wanted him to take you out of here and fuck you already.

“You’re gonna let me fuck you?” he asked, pulling back so he could look at you and smirk. You smiled back, the fight wasn’t out of you yet.

“Why would I do that? I’d rather sleep with someone who could make me cum,” you spat and his grin quickly fell, there was a competitive fire in his eyes that you normally only saw when he was playing.

“Oh Daddy’s gonna make you cum you fucking brat, I’ll make you squirt, you’re gonna cry with how good my dick feels,” he growled in a low voice you’d never heard before and suddenly you were regretting your comment.

“Daddy?” you snorted

Atsumu detangled himself from you and grabbed you by the wrist tugging you out of the frat house and to his car. You shook your head and broke free of his iron-clad grasp.

“I know you’re stupid but this is a new low, both of us are way too drunk to drive,” you shouted. Atsumu just laughed at you, opening the back door to his car.

“We aren’t driving dumbass now get in,” he said. You bit your lip and slid into the back seat shortly followed by Atsumu who locked the door behind him.

The seat wasn’t large but it was big enough to move around in. He pressed you onto the leather upholstery, your legs bent and splayed out at an awkward angle to fit him between them. He went back to kissing you sloppily while his hands went to work taking off your shirt and bra.

Your nipples hardened once the cold night air touched you. “Wanted to suck on your pretty tits for the longest time,” he groaned quickly lowering his head, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth while he fingered the other twisting and pinching it. You yelped when his teeth grazed over the bud. His eyes flicked up to yours and he let go of the spit-soaked nipple blowing on it lightly making you shiver.

“How long has it been since you’ve been fucked huh? So many guys want to fuck this sweet little pussy but you’re too stuck up to let that happen.” he snears sucking the other nipple into his mouth.

“Bet you’re still a fucking virgin,” he said speaking around your mouth.

“ I a-am not,” you whined, you’d lost your virginity in high school, but you really hadn’t gotten fucked since then.

“Oh listen to you whine you totally are,” he scoffed

“No I’m Not!” you protested he let go of your nipple and kissed you again threading his fingers through your hair and pressing your face to his.

“Shut up you fucking virgin,” he said sweetly, before pulling off his shirt, and before you could admire his chiseled chest he distracted you by biting your neck again. You pressed your hand to the center console to keep from slipping off with one hand and clinging to his shoulders with the other.

Atsumu deftly unbuttoned your jeans and shoved his hands in your pants touching your through your soaked underwear. You felt him smirk against your neck but he didn’t make any remark about it. Good thing for him too because you could feel his hard prick pressing up against your thigh and you were ready to drag him for it if he commented on your own arousal.

God, you could feel his cock. It was big, heavy, and hard, pressed against your leg. You wanted to see it, touch it, feel it inside of you. He’d pushed your panties to the side now so he could push his large fingers inside brushing against your velvet walls.

“A-Atsumu,” you said, pitching your leg up to rub against his dick. “I want to suck your cock,” you whimpered. You felt him twitch.

“Here I thought you were a virgin but you’re just a slutty whore aren't cha?” he growled against your neck picking your hips up and yanking your pants down your legs leaving them pooled around your ankles leaving you to kick your jeans off completely. You felt a little stupid naked except for your shoes but Atsumu quickly distracted you by folding you in half pressing your knees to your chest and leaving your pussy completely exposed.

“I’ll fuck your throat later, right now I gotta make you cum remember?” he said playing his hands over your thighs keeping g you folded before lowering his head and diving into your folds like a man starved.

Just like he kissed you, he was mean about it, sucking so harshly that you cried out and spanking your cunt just to make you jump. The only time he pulled back was to spit on your asshole lubing it up enough to slip a finger inside.

“Sumu please,” you cried out as he filled you with his tongue pressing against your G-spot over and over again while he pinched your clit. You weren’t even sure what you were begging for. He just hummed in acknowledgment, whatever you were begging for he wasn’t going to have it.

“Daddy,” you pleaded, finally caving. Atsumu smiled to himself. He wasn’t nice but he did reward good behavior.

He switched it up sucking your clit into your mouth and plunging the fingers of his clean hand, the one that hadn’t just been your ass, inside of you curling up and pressing against your g-pot over and over again until you came screaming so loud that you were sure people back at the house could hear you.

“See didn’t that feel good slut?” he cooed condescendingly. There was a pool of cum beneath you soaking into the leather seats. Good thing this was Osamus’s car. Now all he had to do was make you cry.

“I-I’m not a slut,” you whined.

“Oh? Which is it? Are you not a virgin or are you not a slut?” he asked, squeezing your cheeks. You didn’t know how to respond.

“Well I think you’re a slut, Daddy’s little slut,” he snapped.

There was a dark stain of precum staining his jeans where the head of his cock was leaking he quickly shoved down his pants and boxers before sitting down and pulling you into his lap. You hovered above him as he pumped his cock in his hand running the head of his cock through your soaked folds and bumping your clit.

“You’re gonna be a good whore and ride Daddy’s cock right?” he asked, lining the head of his dick up with your entrance. You bit your lip and nodded, shakily lowering yourself down on him. Atsumu hissed feeling your tight heat wrap around him.

You gripped his shoulders feeling how well he filled you up, the tip pressing against your cervix. You took a minute to adjust before lifting yourself up on your knees and started to fuck yourself onto him.

Atsumu brought you close and kissed you again, one of his hands slipping between your bodies to stroke your clit while you bounced up and down on his cock. You couldn’t help but moan into his mouth as he touched you. He filled you up so well, you had teased him about not being able to get you off but even you couldn’t deny how good it felt to have him so deep inside of you.

“You feel that baby? You feel Daddy pressing up against your Cervix, I’m going to blow my fat load right into your slutty little womb,” he snarled his hips snapping up to meet yours. You whined, throwing your head back in pleasure, almost hitting your head on the headrest.

“Gonna knock you up, gonna stuff this slutty pussy with cum,” he growled, he was talking more to himself but you couldn’t help but shudder at his words. You were on birth control but you desperately wanted him to fill you up.

“Are you gonna cum princess?” He asked, “I can feel your cunt squeezing my cock like that, you’re gonna cum.” He was right, you could feel a second orgasm welling up in your core as his cock pulsed inside of you.

“Atsumu-Daddy, I’m gonna cum,” you moaned kissing him sloppily, your hips faltered when you came but Atsumu’s hands went to your hips moving your body for you as he chased his own high, true to his word he came deep inside of you filling you up and pressing his cock against your cervix.

You collapsed against his chest gasping for breath. He ran his hand soothingly over your back.

“You look tired, you wanna crash somewhere babe?” he asked.

“We’re still too drunk to drive,” you murmured.

“I have a buddy in the frat house, I’m sure he’ll let me steal his bed for the night, especially for a cutie like you,” he said. You pulled back to look at him.

“You had a bed here this whole time and you still made me fuck you in the car?”

When you woke up your whole body hurt. Your head ached your eyes stung and your body was littered with bruises. You didn’t even want to check in with the lower half of your body. You groaned sitting up in bed clutching your head. Then you felt the bed beside you shift, you froze remembering how you’d ended last night.

Atsumu cracked one eye open and his face split into a huge grin. “I had the best dream last night-” he teased you and moved to hit him but he caught your wrist and flipped you on your back pinning you to the bed.

He hovered above you his breath hitting your face in soft puffs. You leaned up and kissed him, suddenly you were a mess of limbs and hands trying to tear each other’s clothes off while you kissed. You hissed as his fingers grazed the bite marks on your neck.

“Go easy on me I’m still sore,” you complained. Atsumu smirked.

“Did I wreck you that badly baby?” he asked, teasingly grinding his morning wood on your leg. You shuddered.

“Shut up and fuck me asshole,” you demand. He tugged off your underwear and hooked your legs over his shoulders.

“As you wish your majesty,” he scoffed and slowly pushed two of his fingers into you

Your cunt ached and it hurt to feel his fingers prod you open, but soon the pain dissolved into pleasure as he continued to finger you.

“Such a pretty wet little cunt, so wet and sticky for me,” he purred, “you like this slut? You like getting fingered first thing in the morning?” he asked.

“Do you like humping my ass like a fucking dog first thing in the morning?” you spat back. He grunted and roughly jerked his finger up hitting your G-spot making you cry out your back arching off the bed.

“That’s what I thought,” he scoffed before completely pulling his fingers out and sticking them into his mouth sucking on your juices.

“I’m not gonna fuck you if you keep being mean,” he said shoving down his own clothes

“Shut up, I bet I’m the only one you know who lets you get your dick wet,” you growled. He snapped into you in one swift motion. You cried out your nails digging into his shoulders. It hurt but the pain sent a rush of endorphins making you moan.

“Really you think that I could fuck you like this without any practice dollface? Don’t forget you’re the virgin here,” he teased drawing his hips back before ramming back into you. This pace was much harsher than what you’d set last night. You were helpless, and entirely at his mercy, he had you folded in half, and you could only moan and scratch at his back.

“Imna fill this cunt with cum, nothing better than emptying my balls in your warm cunt first thing in the morning,” he muttered to himself as he continued to fuck you.

“Already?” you teased.

“Fuck off or I’ll fuck you until you pass out,” he threatened.

“Hurry up and make me cum, I’ve got shit to do today,” you snapped.

“God do you ever stop being a bitch?” he asked, pulling out of you and flipping you over, jerking your hips up and sliding back into you. you moaned feeling his cock hit new sweet spots. You arched your back pressing your hips to his and burying your face into the pillows.

The bed creaked with the force of his thrusts, the headboard hitting the wall with a loud bang. Atsumu brought his hand down on your ass making you jump, it stung and you were reminded of his killer serves that you had seen so many times.

“There, no more bitchy comebacks? Have you gone braindead on my cock?” he mocked spanking you again.

“Daddy!” you pleaded. Your thighs trembling as wetness dripped down your legs.

“Awe theirs my sweet little slut, ready to be good now?”

“Y-yes,” you whined desperate to cum. Atsumu grunted and finally went easy on you, rubbing your clit and easing into you in slow, deep thrusts until he felt your pussy cream around him.

“There you go baby,” he said pulling out of you, his hard cock dripping in your juices. “You still want to suck on my cock?” he asked. You bit your lower lip, embarrassed at the memory. You shifted on the bed settling in between his legs taking the head of his cock into your mouth and wrapping your hands around the rest of his dick.

You licked softly at the slit in the head picking up the bitter precum with your tongue. You slowly took more of his cock in your mouth hollowing your cheeks out around him. His dick was just too big for you to fit completely into your mouth so you moved your hands up and down his shaft while you took as much of him as you could, swirling your tongue around the head.

“You’re doing so well baby,” he moaned, smoothing your hair back from your face. “I didn’t think a virgin like you’d be so good,” he teased. You glared up at him as you continued to suck his dick but you resolved to bite him if he made a comment like that again.

“I think I like you better like this you’re so pretty when you shut the- OW watch the teeth,”

You could taste it as the precum dribbled out of his cock smearing over your tongue, you were getting used to the bitter taste and it wasn’t that bad. You pushed your head down pressing his cock to the back of your throat suppressing your gag reflex.

“Fuck, baby just like that i’m going to cum down your thoat,” he groaned his hips stuttering upwards pushing his dick down your throat deaper making you choke. Atsumu didn’t care,he was moaning loudly as his hips spasmed up into your mouth.

You choked when his semen flooded your mouth. “Fuuck,” he sighed, pulling out of your mouth. You sluptered trying to catch the mess that bubbled out of your mouth.

“Ah, swallow what you can baby,” Atsumu said, whipping your chin with his thumb. You did as he asked, choking down what you could. He pushed you back on the bed kissing your neck, his lips running over your bruises,

“I like you like this, we should fuck more often he teased,” you shoved his chest, but weakly, it was clearly just for show. You didn’t want to admit it but you agreed with him.

You kept seeing Atsumu after that. He was a little nicer with you normally. Or at least, he saved his mean side for the bedroom and was a little sweeter to you. If you were a little more naive you might have even started to fall for him a little bit.

That was the Chliche right? You start out hating someone but then after a few nights of passion you were in love? Bullshit, it was all Bullshit.

you knew Atsumu hadn’t changed, and he wasn’t exactly saving himself for you. You couldn’t count how many times you’d walked in on him making out with some random chick, you’d even walked in on him while he’d been balls deep in some other girl.

That being said, you hadn’t changed either. you still had a temper like no other and were quick to snap, especially at Atsumu. You didn’t have many friends who put up with your bullshit so why would He even fall in love with you?

You shouldn’t be in love with him. He was an asshole, a heartless fuck boy. So why did you like him so much? why did it sting when you thought about how hopless your whole situation.

It sucked, this whole thing was just awful. That being said, you still jumped at the chance to see him everytime he called, you really were hopless.

“Where are we going?” you asked as Atsumu drove. You didn’t recognize this street and you knew you weren’t going to his place.

“It’s a surprise,” he said. You scoffed and crossed your arms. He pulled into a parking lot and you were surprised to see you were at a park.

“What are you going to fuck me on the slide?” you asked, following him out of the car and into the park.

“I used to come here all the time when I was a kid, me and my brother would play here,” he said, ignoring you and walking to the swings, you followed.

“And I still come here a lot, it’s a good place to think and it’s just a really special place for me,” he said sitting on the swing and gesturing for you to sit on his lap.

You did, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. “I don’t like where this conversation is going,” you said furrowing your eyebrows. It was almost the middle of the night so it was dark but you could still see the dopey lovestruck look on his face.

“Stumu, you’re not supposed to call me for stuff like this,” you said unwrapping your arms around his neck, you were going to get off his lap but he wrapped his arms around his waist keeping you there.

The two of you had agreed only to call each other when you wanted sex, this mushy romantic shit was defently not sex.

“You’re so pretty baby, let me be nice to you,” he said kissing you and you melted into him, just like every time he kissed you.

“You’re never nice to me,” you protested. He reached under your shirt groping you.

“Because you never let me,” he protested.

“What’s with you?” you asked, grabbing his wrist and shoving him away from you.

“I love you,” he said. You couldn’t deal with this right now, you got off his lap and started walking back to the car

“Take me home,” you demanded. “I don’t want to talk about this,” you said.

“(y/n)-” he said running in front of you stopping you.

“Please, I know you hate this shit, but please can we talk,” he pleaded taking your hands in his,

“You can’t just say shit like that Tsumu! We’re not supposed to love each other we’re supposed to fuck and get under eachother’s skin and fight that’s how this works!” you shouted.

Atsumu kissed your knuckles, seeming to ignore your yelling.

“We didn’t used to fuck either, we used to just get under eachother’s skin,” he pointed out. He wrapped you in his arms. You pressed your face to his chest and you felt your cheeks get wet with tears. You hiccupped and sobbed, trying to keep your emotions bottled up was hard.

“I love you,” he said again. You shoved him and whipped your face.

“I don’t want to do this Atsumu, take me home,” you demanded. He deflated.

“Okay baby, let's go home, I’ll be waiting, when you’re ready,” he said rubbing your shoulders and taking you back to his car.

You drove in silence. You hated this. Yout hated him. Atsumu was a playboy, an idiot and an asshole who only cared about Volleyball. You just wanted to insult him and fuck him to blow off steam. You weren’t supposed to fall for him. You weren’t supposed to love his cocky smile and his stupid jokes. His stupid flirty remarks weren’t supposed to make you blush.

“Baby?” he prompted you blinked and saw you were sitting in front of your dorm building. “Hey,” he purred, wiping the tears off your cheeks. You didn’t need him to tell you that he loved you, you could tell every time he did something like this. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch.

“I really wished we’d had sex tonight,” you whispered. He laughed.

“fuck am I really that ireaistable doll?” he teased, pinching your cheek as he pulled away.

“I do love you Atsumu, I just- I just don’t know what to do about it,” you admitted. Atsumu smiled lazily.

you meant it too, you loved him so much. but it was impossible to get the image of the time you walked in on him sleeping with another girl out of your mind. Was that what it meant to be in a relationship with him? If so then you weren’t going to do it, you weren’t signing yourself up for that kind of heartbreak. Maybe you should just give up on him and block him.

“Like I said. I’ll wait for you, and next time I promise we’ll have the best sex of your life-Not that’s a hard bar to clear you virigin,” he teased. You smiled and playfully hit him in the arm. You got out of his car and walked into your building as he drove away, and at least for tonight. That was enough.

#haikyuu atsumu #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu x female reader #atsumu x you #atsumu x reader smut #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu!!

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potatoes-is-are-food · 3 years

Text

Made For Each Other [Part 1]

~4500 words (I may have gone a little overboard I just really love poly erasermic)

Yandere erasermic x reader / soulmate au

| NSFW warnings: noncon, threesome, vague threats of violence

I’m gonna be putting this into parts (I’m thinking around 3?)

The first few weeks had been especially bad. Waking up with a chain connecting you to the floor in a bed that wasn’t yours in clothes that weren’t yours had been terrifying. You’d been scared of your captor, Shota Aizawa, to the point of tears at first, but now you were sitting on a barstool in his kitchen watching him make dinner.

“Hizashi is coming back tomorrow. You’ll have to get used to him being around, too,” he said, capturing your attention away from the book he’d given you, “He’s loud and excited to see you, but I’ll try to keep him calm.” You nodded when he looked at you, turning back to adjust something on the stove. You weren’t allowed all the way in the kitchen yet, but he said if you behaved you’d be able to soon.

“Wait, Present Mic? Why is he coming here?” You asked when he didn’t elaborate.

“He’s my husband,” he answered flatly. You furrowed your brow, but didn’t question it out of politeness. You nearly laughed at yourself aloud, worrying about being polite to someone who literally kidnapped you.

It had been on your way home from work. You got off the train at your usual station but much later than usual, having to stay late that day. Walking home didn’t seem too dangerous since you lived in a safe area, but that had been a terrible decision. Before you could process what was happening someone had come up behind you, dragged you into an alley while you kicked and attempted to scream, and been shoved to the pavement.

You’d taken some hard hits from your assailant when Eraserhead saved you, tying the guy who attacked you to the dumpster and scooping you up just as you lost consciousness. The newspaper you’d seen the other day said you were missing and there were no leads. There was a separate article about how a vigilante had tied some petty criminal to a dumpster but he still died from his injuries. How convenient.

Realizing you’d been staring at the same page for several minutes, you sighed and closed your book. You set it on the counter and leaned back, boredly swinging your legs and listening to the music Shota had put on. You didn’t recognize it, but every now and then he would hum along for a second.

He set a plate in front of you and handed you a glass of water, watching you carry both to the couch and taking his own to join you. It had become a routine in the last week that you’d both sit on the couch together and he’d put on something to watch while you ate. It was an unspoken agreement that you’d talk to him if he wanted and he wouldn’t touch you or stare you down.

You glanced at him, settling into the cushions and trying to relax. He still made you nervous, but he hadn’t done anything to hurt you, just threatened to chain you up again if you tried to get away, which you hadn’t. He scared you way too much to try before you knew you could get away with absolute certainty.

He settled on some sit-com you knew he didn’t care about, signaling he’d want to talk today. You moved your food around with a spoon (he wasn’t allowing forks or knives yet but also used a spoon in solidarity), waiting for him to say something. He didn’t.

“It’s good,” you said softly, fidgeting a bit awkwardly. His intimidating presence chilled you, making you want to subdue anger he probably didn’t even have. You quickly added, “Thank you.” He grunted in response, shuffling slightly closer to you.

“Y/n, eat all of that and drink all your water. I’ve been lenient until now but you’re going to have to eat more and stay hydrated now. You’re going to have rules now,” he said sternly, sliding your glass a little closer to you. Obediently you took a sip and another bite of your food, letting him continue as you chewed,

“You’re sleeping in my bed from now on,” he took a sip of his drink nonchalantly as you looked away, feeling blood rush into your face. The most he’d touched you was to pat your head a few days ago and that had made you jump. He continued, unaffected by your flustered disposition,

“I wanted to give you more time first so I won’t get mad if you slip up, but ‘Zashi coming home sooner than planned changes things,” he explained softly, bringing his hand up to stroke your hair. Your breathing sped up and you resisted the urge to get up and run.

“Why…” you breathed, finally looking at him with tear-filled eyes. One spilled down your cheek and his finger gently caught it, wiping it away.

“You can’t see it, but I’ve got a red string on my wrist attached to you and Hizashi. And he had our names on his arm. Didn’t you notice yours before now?” He arched a brow at you, watching as your eyes widened almost comically.

“I…” you thought back to when you first could see colors. You’d been young, only 12 when you’d been saved by Present Mic, but in all the chaos of the villain attack you couldn’t tell who was the cause and you were too young for it to matter. Your second mark was on the back of your neck, a timer counting down to when you’d meet your other soulmate. Since you couldn’t see it and had been preoccupied the past several weeks, you’d forgotten how close it was to hitting zero.

“We’re all made for each other, kitten,” his face had been slowly approaching yours as you’d had your epiphany, now centimeters away. More tears fell down your face, too shocked to move as he kissed them away. You couldn’t deny the pull you felt toward him, unconsciously leaning into his touch. He placed another kiss to the very edge of your lips and a final one to your forehead before leaning back, taking the plate you were very close to dropping and setting it on the coffee table.

“B-but then why-” your voice trembled and caught in your throat. You choked back a sob, clenching your hands in your lap. You felt sick, the dinner your soulmate had made threatening to come back up. Your head felt fuzzy, like you’d been drinking.

“We had to, sweetheart,” he cooed, wrapping an arm gently around your tense form, “you thought it was a good idea to walk home alone at night, your job was stressing you out, and you wrecked your car not too long ago. You need us to take care of you and getting attacked was the perfect opportunity,” he pushed some of your hair out of your face.

You crumbled, sobbing and letting him hold you, so desperate for comfort that you actually clung to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and crying into his neck. You couldn’t see it, of course, but he was smiling as he swiped his fingers soothingly along the timer on the back of your neck that would be at 00:00 forever.

When you calmed down he handed you your water, rubbing your back as you finished it and leaving you on the couch to take the dishes away. You sniffled and let him pick you up, carrying you into the bathroom and getting ready for bed together in a daze. You even let him change your clothes, settling into bed pliantly as you figured out that he probably put sedatives in the food.

The next morning you woke to Shota’s warmth pressed against your back, an arm slung around your waist. You sat up, nearly falling over again groggily. You turned to look at him and saw his eyes open, locking onto you instantly.

“Hey there,” he husked, his morning voice catching you off guard. You pursed your lips, scooting away from him slightly,

“Did you drug me, Aizawa?” You crossed your arms, moving to sit on top of the covers and create some distance. He groaned softly, sitting up,

“Don’t call me Aizawa.” His reminder made your face heat up. He’d let you get by with awkward “hey”s and tapping his shoulder, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t be doing that anymore.

“Did you?” You press, voice a little softer in an attempt to accommodate him. He blinked at you, waiting. You relented, “...Shota?” His expression softened.

“I couldn’t have you running off. Besides, you needed a good night’s sleep. I know you’ve been tossing and turning,” he shrugged, stretching and standing up. You took his hand when he extended it to you, still a little “softened” by whatever he’d dosed you with.

He lead you into the bathroom he’d been having you use, completely idiot-proofed with no way to hurt yourself or anyone else or an escape route. And with all that he still made you keep the door open, doing stuff on his phone while you did whatever you had to do. You saw him pull up a messaging app as you entered, running the shower and stripping, shyly glancing at him often to reassure yourself he wasn’t watching.

When you got out he gave you something new to wear, an actual dress instead of one of their shirts. You didn’t question where he’d gotten it, simply thanking him quietly and putting it on when he turned around to give you the illusion of privacy. He hadn’t given you anything to wear under it, though.

“Um, Shota?” You called, looking everywhere but directly at him. He turned around, looking you over and giving your head a pat. You shuffled your bare feet awkwardly, “Can I have something to wear under it?” His hand rested on your waist lightly, eyes roaming your figure leisurely.

“I’ll have to go out and buy you some. Hizashi bought this a while ago when we figured out your identity,” he smiled, probably recalling a fond memory with his husband. Your other soulmate. You really didn’t want to admit it, but it felt nice that someone had been so excited to meet you that they’d gotten you a gift.

He made breakfast, insisting for the first time that you sit on his lap to eat. The day was mostly uneventful, you read and Shota let you make tea while he supervised. By six you were sitting at the bar in front of the kitchen, watching him chop vegetables.

You almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the door open, Shota eyeing you to make sure you wouldn’t try to run.

“Babe?” You heard Hizashi call, recognizing his voice easily from all the times you’d listened to him since you’d been there and even before.

“In here,” Shota called back, still tending to dinner. You looked at him for direction but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care to give it. Footsteps sounded behind you and you spun in your stool, facing your other soulmate for the first time since he’d saved you as a child. He dropped his bags, keys, and a water bottle he’d been holding, jaw dropping as he stared at you.

“Sho you didn’t,” he breathed, and for the briefest of moments you thought he’d be against this and rescue you again, but that was not the case.

“Happy anniversary,” Shota appeared, pulling the blonde in for a kiss. Hizashi tore his eyes from you and cupped the other man’s face as he repeated the expression. They really looked in love.

“She’s even more beautiful in person!” He beamed, closing the distance between you so fast if you’d blinked it would have seemed like he teleported. He immediately pressed his lips to yours, holding you tightly as you weakly struggled, tugging his sleeves and making muffled protests against his mouth.

“’Zashi, calm down, I haven’t trained her and I’ve barely touched her,” Shota placed a hand on his shoulder and he pulled away, leaving you panting and slightly panicked in his grasp.

“Aw, come on, Sho,” he whined, continuing to hold you against him, “She seems like a good girl she probably barely needs any training,” his hand stroked your hair and he pressed his cheek against the top of your head. You gave Shota a wide eyed look,

“Trained?” You asked nervously, squirming a little in Hizashi’s arms. Shota’s tired expression morphed into something more devious, the corner of his lips twitching up,

“We need to be sure you’re not gonna run off on us, kitty,” he cooed, “We need to…” he paused, searching for the right word, “house train you, so to speak.” His tone made you nervous, shrinking into the arms holding you.

Shota pecked your cheek and returned to the stove, giving the food a stir and asking about Hizashi’s trip so casually you’d think he hadn’t just implied something sinister. Hizashi picked you up, sitting in your stool and pulling you into his lap as he chatted with his husband. You fiddled with the hem of your dress and vaguely wondered if they intended on getting a special license to add you into the marriage as they did for people with multiple soulmates. You really hoped things wouldn’t get that far.

A hand trailed along your thigh, massaging the soft flesh and making your dress ride up a bit. You shifted, pressing your knees tightly together and making sure it didn’t go too high as another settled on your waist, gently rubbing up and down, dangerously close to your breast. You were suddenly very aware of your lack of underwear, nipples pebbling and sticking out against the fabric. You shuddered.

“I picked this out for you, doll,” he said quietly, breath tickling your ear before he stooped and planted several light kisses on your neck, “Do you like it?” You writhed slightly, but stopped immediately when you heard his breath hitch and felt something stir under you.

“Please…” you whispered, trying to plead with him the way you had Shota, whose head snapped around to send you a look that had tears instantly welling in your eyes.

“Y’n,” he said, staring you down. You sniffled, brows knitting together as you fought a sob.

“It’s fine, Sho,” Hizashi said calmly, stroking your shoulder and kissing the top of your head, “sweet little girl just needs some guidance, isn’t that right?” his voice dripped condescension and he pinched your cheeks, chuckling lightly as his had whetted with tears.

Shota sighed, “Tell ‘Zashi you liked the dress,” he started plating the food, leaving Hizashi to comfort you. He seemed to enjoy the task, wiping your face and kissing your temple. You told him you liked the dress.

You let him dote on you, clamming up when his hands wandered to uninvited places. You were seated in his lap again in the dining room as you all ate, the two men making light conversation and Shota telling his husband how he’d kidnapped you and your progress from terrified mute to scared yet willing to seek comfort from your captors.

“She’s done well, overall. I think once we solidify things it’ll go even faster. We could probably start making wedding preparations by October,” Shota discussed you casually, like he was telling Hizashi about the weather. Like you weren’t there.

“Wedding...preparations?” You asked nervously, picking at your food with a fork for the first time since you’d been stripped of freedom.

“Of course,” he continued, giving you a slight smile, “you’re our soulmate.” They discussed plans to get you more clothes, making you tense as taking your measurements was discussed. When you finished dinner, Shota cleared the table and tended to the dishes, leaving you alone with Hizashi for some bonding time.

“And if you want, we could do a destination honeymoon,” he rambled, ignoring your borderline catatonic state as you stared off into space, sinking further and further into a mental space you didn’t understand. Wedding? Honeymoon? How long would it be before you’d be able to escape?

“You’re gonna overwhelm her,” Shota’s soothing voice came from behind. He patted your head when you turned to look at him, taking note of the way your eyes looked a little glossier than usual, “Come on, we should head to bed. You must be tired.”

Hizashi grabbed his bags, following as Shota took your hand and lead you back into the bedroom. You sat on the bed, yawning as you realized constantly being made to go to bed so early had you tired already. You expected them to toss you another big t shirt and a pair of sweats too tall for you, but instead Shota pulled you up so you were standing in front of them.

“Are we going to bed?” You eyed the dresser, unsure if they wanted you to choose or something. Hizashi snorted, working the buttons of his shirt open as Shota turned you around to unzip the back of your dress. He ran his hand down the bare skin of your back, sliding the fabric forward off your shoulders.

Your hands shot up, pinning the covering to your chest as your breathing sped up,

“Shota?” you looked back at him over your shoulder as he rubbed along your skin. He didn’t answer, pressing his lips to your shoulder and gently coaxing the dress down until it bunched around your ankles on the floor. Your lip trembled as you tried to cover yourself with your hands, arms crossing your chest.

“So pretty,” he murmured against your shoulder, sliding his hands up your sides and gently tugging at your arms. Tears spilled onto your cheeks as Hizashi joined, stripped to his boxer briefs, dropping to his knees in front of you. He kissed the center of your chest just below your breasts, hands settling on your hips. You shook your head,

“Please don’t,” you whimpered, “d-don’t look,” you crossed your legs, arms locked against your chest as Shota rubbed them, attempting to get you to drop them yourself.

“But you’re so beautiful, angel,” Hizashi spoke softly, trailing kisses down your stomach while Shota wiped your tears away and pulled you gently into a kiss. It was the first time you’d kissed him properly, and the sense of fulfillment that settled into your chest made you both gasp against each other, making you melt a little.

Hizashi’s lips trailed along your hips, not wanting to distract you from kissing Shota. When your mouths parted you felt warm, nearly sinking into his adoring gaze before remembering how he’d kept you chained, cold and alone as you screamed and cried in that room. He must have sensed your conflict, kissing you again before trailing down your neck and giving Hizashi’s jaw a little tap.

Lips departed your hips as the blonde stood, leaning down to kiss both your tear-stained cheeks and then your lips, the jolt from him significantly less intense thanks to him pouncing on you earlier. It still felt good, though, as much as you hated to admit it. His hands cupped your face and without thinking you placed yours over them. You felt Shota move lower, caressing your hips and kissing along your back, lingering where it dipped at your waist.

You squeaked, flinching away from Hizashi as you felt Shota’s hands kneading your ass, spreading and squeezing your cheeks. Your arms wrapped around Hizashi’s neck as you tried to wriggle out of the other man’s grasp. He chuckled, holding your hips still for his partner rather than helping. You whined, burying your face in his neck as fresh tears fell onto his skin. He rubbed a hand soothingly along your back as Shota continued, kissing and then biting the flesh.

You sniffled, breathing shakily and hard into Hizashi’s neck, fingers tangling in his loose hair. He shushed you like a child, hugging you close and nearly groaning at your breasts being pressed flush against his chest.

“Maybe we should’ve given her wine at dinner, Sho,” he said softly, brows furrowed as you sobbed softly on him, “She’s nervous, aren’t you love?” Gently, he pried your arms from around him, leaning back to look at you.

“She’ll be fine, taking both of us so close together will probably help a lot,” Shota stood, sweeping your legs and making you fall into his arms. He deposited you onto the bed, licking his lips and kissing you heatedly, lapping at the inside of your mouth. You groaned against him, holding onto his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself.

Hizashi tugged at Shota’s shirt, making him break your kiss to let him remove it. He straddled you, pressing his bare chest to yours and resuming his tongue’s exploration of your mouth. You whimpered, feeling him shifting atop you as Hizashi rid him of his clothes, placing a playful smack to his ass once it was bare. You felt his cock, hot and heavy, tap against your thighs, making you clench them together and sob against Shota’s lips.

He leaned back, wiping the trail of saliva that followed away, and crawled off of you. Settling behind you, he pulled you up into a sitting position so you rested against his chest, instantly grabbing and pinning your arms as you tried to cover yourself. He kissed your head, murmuring little praises as his husband pried your legs apart, settling between them to take in the view as close as possible. You writhed, Hizashi pinning your legs as you struggled, openly sobbing,

“Please don’t do this,” his face as he gazed at your twitching, wet pussy looked euphoric. He inhaled deeply, eyes rolling back at your scent.

“Sho, she smells good enough to eat. And she’s wet,” he smirked, swiping his finger along your slit and holding up the glistening digit for his accomplice. Shota groaned in your ear, trapping both your wrists in one hand and kneading at your breast with the other.

“Eat her, then,” he growled, husky voice making your back arched a little involuntarily.

Your soulmate obliged, not needing to be told twice as he closed the distance, flattening his tongue and smearing your juices up to your clit. You cried out, trying to wriggle away as he circled his tongue around the little bud. It was like he already knew how to make you tick, flicking his wet appendage along every spot that made you squirm and hitting your sweet spot the second his fingers penetrated you. In seconds you were moaning, tears drying on your face as you bucked your hips against him.

Shota flicked and toyed with your nipples, leaving your hands free. You reached up, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging it as the pleasure continued to build. You groaned his name and then Hizashi’s, occasionally still babbling for them to stop. Your orgasm sent waves of the most intense pleasure you’d ever felt jolting through your body, making you writhe and cry out as your soulmate lapped up your fluids.

You started to cry again as he continued past the point of pleasure and into painful territory, fingers leaving black locks to pull at blonde ones. He groaned, pumping his fingers faster and harder into your throbbing heat and flicking his tongue harshly against your overstimulated nub. You came again, muttering incoherently as he slowed to a stop, leaning back and wiping his face with a satisfied grin.

“She’s so cute,” his hand trailed up your thigh, “You should try,” he told Shota, watching your cunt twitch and chest heave.

“Later,” you looked up to see him licking his lips and watching you heatedly. You shuddered, sniffling as he wiped away a stray tear. Noticing Hizashi watching, you closed your legs, sitting up and bringing your knees to your chest.

“Are we done?” Your voice came out quiet and coarse, a little shaky as your eyes continued to flood. You bit your lip, looking between the men.

“Not quite, kitten,” Shota’s lips pressed to your back, working up between your shoulder blades and sucking when he reached your neck. He left several bites and hickeys as his husband cupped your face, kissing you softly and slipping his tongue past your lips. You whimpered against him as Shota abused the sweet spot on your collarbone, one hand on your thigh and the other in Hizashi’s hair.

He broke the kiss, planting another soft one on your forehead, “How did you hold back so long, Sho?” he breathed, nuzzling his face against your hair and sighing happily as Shota pecked his lips.

“Wanted to let you go first,” he murmured, kissing him again before readjusting you to the same position as before, resting against his chest with your wrists in his hands, “go ahead.”

Hizashi pulled your hips forward a touch, spreading your legs with his knee and spreading his pre against your weeping slit. His tip against your clit made you twitch, back arching as he toyed with the sensitive nerves. When he’d finished he lined up with your entrance, pressing in slowly to avoid overwhelming you.

Your mouth opened and your eyes clenched shut, head falling back against Shota as he pushed in, inch by inch sliding in until he was buried to the hilt and his hair pressed against you. He groaned sinfully, humping shallowly as you got used to his size. A choked sob left your throat as he started thrusting, pulling out nearly all the way and sliding back in as gently as he could manage when your cries made you pulse around him.

“You feel so good,” he panted, “Good girl,” his thrusts got rougher as he leaned forward, tongue slipping into your open mouth and swallowing your half-pained half-pleasurable moans. Shota let go of your wrists, stroking your hair as well as Hizashi’s as he took in the sight. With your arms free you desperately clung to the man pounding you into his husband, crying against his lips and swirling your tongue against his in a bizarre attempt at seeking comfort from him.

Shota’s fingers intruded on your kiss, collecting saliva from both of you and making it drip down your chins before moving the slicked digits to roll circles into your puffy clit. You gasped at the contact, eyes opening and rolling back into your head as the blonde broke the kiss, licking up the tears lingering on your cheeks. His hips sputtered, lewd squelching noises reverberating through the room as Shota continued his assault on your abused bead.

You came first, back arching, tongue flopped out of your mouth, eyes half-lidded and rolled up into your skull, head braced back against Shota’s chest as you spasmed, clenching around Hizashi’s cock and milking him for all he was worth. He released deep inside, cumming directly against your cervix and rolling his hips to hump against you, riding out both your orgasms. As it subsided, you fell limply against your dark-haired soulmate, completely spent and feeling as though you were floating, disconnected from reality. You felt hands caressing your thighs, hips, and gently pushing sweaty strands of hair from your face.

“...re so good for us,” you focused enough to take in their praises, still shaking as your cunt twitched and drooled Hizashi’s seed. You blinked a couple of times and saw him staring at it, reaching down to collect what was dripping and push it back in, making you whimper weakly. He licked his fingers clean and crawled over you to kiss Shota, both men shifting and gently readjusting you until you were pressed back against Hizashi’s chest. Shota settled between your legs, thumbs spreading your pussy apart for his inspection.

You felt fresh tears stinging your eyes, “Please… please no more,” you croaked, weakly squirming. He leaned down, kissing your inner thigh and inching closer to your fucked out hole.

“Shhh, kitten,” he gently licked up your folds, smearing Hizashi’s cum across your skin and making you flinch when the muscle flicked your overstimulated clit, “You can handle a little more for daddy, right?”

739 notes · View notes

songbirdstyles · 3 years

Text

sparks

summary: you’re a music journalist assigned to covering one of harry styles’ gigs, and he’s absolutely smitten with you. (part one.)

warnings: slight fluff, excessive liberties taken about music journalism; smut in later chapters, angst in later chapters

word count: 8.2k

inspo.: almost famous - cameron crowe; sparks - the who; hello, i love you - the doors

You’d never truly gotten a big assignment before - sure, you’d gotten a few pieces here and there detailing local LA bands that you knew would never live to see more than 100,000 monthly listeners on Spotify, and they mostly ended up buried by your higher-ranking coworker’s higher end stories on the front covers - and, for the most part, you’d honestly been fine with it. You’re fresh out of college, the newest recruit to your company and your colleagues who are sent out to tour with big bands and artists have been here for years, some even decades, and you suppose they deserve the opportunities more than you, don’t they?

You work your way up, your boss had told you the first day you’d started working, following him around like an eager puppy as he showed you the office. Eventually - if I’m impressed with you - you’ll get something big.

It’s enough for you. Small bands playing in hole-in-the-wall clubs and restaurants may not be the exact thing you’d envisioned when you’d set your sights on being a music journalist but it’s worked out well for you so far, hasn’t it? You’ve made friends - even dated the lead singer of an underground rock band who cheated on you hardly two weeks into the relationship - and your portfolio is slowly building, stacked with exposés and detailed recounts of small gigs that you’d watched from backstage. Eventually, you’ll leave this company and move on to something bigger, like Rolling Stone, and your career will take off until you’re practically the face of music journalism.

And, really, those dreams have carried you through college and the first year of your career, putting your all into every article and every piece just so your boss can tug you into his office one day with a rarely-seen grin to finally tell you -

“I want you to write an article on Harry Styles.”

You furrow your eyebrows, shifting in the cushy office seat that your boss has for guests in his office. It’s a facade that you’ve learned to acknowledge, because, no matter how much he makes it look like he appreciates guests in his office, you know he regards you as nothing more than an interloper, even if he’d invited you there to begin with. “Harry Styles?”

“You’ve heard of him, haven’t you?” Mike asks, light shining off his bald head, and your mouth opens and closes a few times uselessly.

“Of course I have!” You push yourself to sit up straighter in your seat, staring up at your boss with shock written in every feature of your face. You, writing about Harry Styles? God, you nearly want to pinch yourself to see if you’re dreaming. “Write an article about - about what?”

Mike scoffs in that pretentious way that makes you hate ever having to talk to him, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at him. “He’s coming to do a few shows along the West Coast. You can go to one or two - talk to him a bit, talk to his band - you’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

“With small bands, sure - Tacocat and - and the Mystery Lights -” You swallow thickly, and Mike stares down at you in your seat like he’s unimpressed with your enthusiasm, or lack thereof. And it’s not that you aren’t executed - but, Christ. Going from bands performing in underground clubs to Harry Styles is like going straight from crawling to flying a fucking plane and you’re not sure if any of your experience with the musical locality in LA could prepare you for that. “I mean, that’s huge, Mike.”

“It is huge,” Mike confirms, crossing his thick arms over his chest, leaning against the desk before you as though he’s immune to sitting in his seat behind his desk like a normal boss. “Do you not want to do it? Because Melissa, you know - she’d love to, was going on and on about it last week -”

“No!” Your cheeks flush at the volume your voice raises to, and if you didn’t know better you could swear you see the ghost of a grin on Mike’s face. “I want to, Mike, I really want to - it’s just crazy.” There’s a pregnant pause between the two of you, your boss nodding smugly down at you as you struggle for words, before you ask the question burning the tip of your tongue with its desire to be heard. “But - why me? I’m sure you have people more qualified for it -”

“Easy,” Mike says, cutting you off and you’d be annoyed in any other instance but you’re too desperate to hear his answer. “Look, Harry’s a young guy. Younger than anyone else our people have interviewed - I think he’ll respond more to a young, pretty girl like yourself than someone older than him.”

Well, that makes sense, you suppose. The only coworker even close to you in age is Melissa, and she’s pushing 30 as it is. You’re 23 - graduated college just over a year ago, and by far the newest recruit this company has taken in years - but you had always imagined that was the main reason you wouldn’t get many big articles, and here it’s the main factor in you getting what will surely be the highlight of your portfolio once you apply to Rolling Stone. An interview with Harry Styles - God, they’ll probably foam at the mouth when they see it, and a grin spreads across your face as you think of it.

“Is that a yes?” Mike questions, blonde eyebrows raised high and nearly disappearing into his scalp.

“Of course,” you respond without another moment of hesitation, and you push yourself to stand, office chair rolling behind you with the force, and it hits the wall behind you with a soft thump. “Yes - of course - of course.”

“Great.” And he crosses to the other side of his desk, pushing aside a few loose papers and folders on his desk, and you clutch your hands in front of your stomach as you watch him, practically bouncing up and down with uncontained joy and fear bubbling inside of you. The last time you’d felt like this was the first time you got a real assignment - more than just ranking songs and discussing new album releases - and you’d been sent to a strip club to cover a gig from an up-and-coming band. Back then, you’d never expected to ever feel more excited over anything in your life, and yet, here you are, eight months later, fighting back the urge to burst into joyful tears. “They come in a week - I’ll send you the address - if you need help with your questions -”

“I’ll ask Francine,” you finish the same advice he gives you every time you’re assigned an article, referring to your oldest coworker - a little old woman who’s been with the company since the 70s. She’s always been more than willing to help you with your assignments but this - you need to do this by yourself. “Thank you so much, Mike, this is - this is great.”

“Don’t let me down,” he says, pointing his finger at you, and you nod furiously. “I’m trusting you on this - it’s a big opportunity.”

“I won’t disappoint you,” you promise, holding up your crossed fingers just to show him how much you mean it, and you know it’s the truth - you’ll make this piece the best damn one this company has ever seen if it’s the last thing you ever do.

The night begins a bit - rocky, to say the least.

For one, you couldn’t decide what to wear, even after spending nearly a half hour trying on every variation of clothes in your closet and tossing them onto the floor of your studio apartment when they didn’t satisfy your needs. In the past you’d worn to gigs what you’d wear if you were a simple concertgoer, albeit a bit more modestly, but you can’t decide what you would wear to a Harry Styles concert if you got the regular chance to - and you’d never even dreamt that it would happen in the first place -

Well, you peruse your closet intently and land on a pair of patterned flare pants and a long sleeve sweater. It only seems fitting for the chilly weather outside, and you fold a shirt into your bag in case you need to change if it gets hot backstage. You’re not dressed to impress, necessarily - you’re dressed to get a job done, as Mike would always say, but how could you be expected to not attempt to impress Harry Styles? It’s a preposterous idea. You’re sure anyone would understand.

Journalism pass - phone - keys - deodorant - when you’ve checked your bag over three times to ensure you have everything necessary you finally leave, locking your door shut behind you and ordering an Uber to take you to the concert.

You hadn’t anticipated Uber and Lyft being absolutely overloaded with patrons due to the concert just a half hour away and you need to be there by 6:30 at the very latest to ensure you get in and can at least talk to Harry before he goes on - a quarter of your questions are geared towards how he feels pre show and you can’t get pre show questions after the show - that’s barbaric. But the minutes inch closer to 5:30 and your Uber driver is still ten minutes away and your heart beats so fast against your chest you think you might vomit right into the street in front of your building -

You’re in the car by 5:45. It’s not ideal, and you know you’re cutting it close, but hopefully you’ll be there before the soundcheck ends. It’s always an ideal time to take photos, watching the band warm up and check mics, and with a piece like this, you need all the opportunities for pictures you can get.

And traffic is horrible - you suppose that’s also to be expected, and your Uber driver curses in a language you can’t recognize as cars cut him off on the highway and if you were a different person, you’d recommend a shortcut he takes, but he doesn’t look like he wants to hear a single word come from your mouth. He had given you a dirty look when you entered the car, and that’s enough to make you shut up and pray for the entire car ride that you make it on time.

6:27. Mike would piss himself if he knew how close you cut it, and you hop out of the car with a speed you didn’t even know you could muster, pushing past the buzzing crowd standing in front of the main entrance. The hoard of people seems to have a steady heartbeat, pulsing with excitement much like your own, and you can’t help but smile as you make your way around the group, goosebumps cropping up over your skin as your teeth chatter in the coldness. For a moment you fear that the directions to the backstage entrance that Mike had given you were total bullshit - but then you see the door, blocked by a burly security guard that glowers at you as you walk up to him like you’re something sticky beneath his shoe.

“Hi!” you call, breath exploding in a white cloud in front of you in the cool night air. The security guard smells so strongly of booze that you need to try harder than you’d care to admit not to scrunch your nose - you cough softly. “Let me - um - find my pass - I’m with Autoamerican, the magazine?”

Fingers grab onto your journalism pass, deep within your bag, and you tug it out, flashing it to the security guard with a slightly nervous grin. All of the gigs you’d been to before hadn’t even had backstage doors - to get backstage, you just had to climb onto the stage and walk behind the wings - but this is a fucking stadium, not just a measly club, and a big one, at that. In your youth you’re sure you could recall your dad watching a football game that occurred in this very stadium - funny how life turns out, sometimes.

“Autoamerican?” the security guard questions, bringing his face closer to your badge as the wafting smell of alcohol increases, and he raises his eyebrows with a scoff. “Never heard of it.”

“Oh.” you pause, feeling your teeth beginning to chatter in the cool February air. You’re not quite sure what to say - you’d assumed Mike had called to arrange the entire thing, hadn’t he? And this is the time you’re supposed to be here - “well, we’re not as big as Rolling Stone magazine, but - we’ve done interviews with The Cure, The Smiths - even Zeppelin, at one point -”

Your voice trails off into silence. He doesn’t care. He’s looking at you like you’re some innocent teenage girl, trying to bribe your way backstage so you can bombard the artist and not a fully grown woman here on business, goddammit. And you’re not sure what to say - he doesn’t believe you, clearly, and you hadn’t anticipated that even as you listed all the ways tonight could go wrong.

“Look, kid,” he begins, and that really has your blood boiling, eyes narrowing to glare at him. “We get this all the time. I’m a journalist - I’m with the crew - it’s a bunch of bullshit. Now go to the front with your general admission tickets like the rest of them -”

“I have a pass - I’m a journalist!”

“Sure -”

“I can call my boss if you want proof!”

And before you can reach into your bag to search relentlessly for your phone to follow through on the promise like you intend to, the door the man is guarding suddenly swings open, nearly hitting the guard in the ass as it opens out. You take a step back as dim light from inside floods the darkness, and a man steps out of the doorway, his eyes darting between you and the security guard.

“Are you with Autoamerican?” the man questions, raising his finger to point at you as though he could be speaking to anyone else. You nod furiously, and you hold up your journalism pass again just to prove it. “You can come inside, then - c’mon, Steve, she’s got a pass, for God’s sake -”

And you can’t resist flashing the guard a smug smile as he steps to the side to let you inside, rolling his eyes so far back into his head that all you can see is a strip of white.

The man lets you inside and the door shuts behind you, and you nearly knock straight into a second security guard standing by the door inside, as though trying to stop people from going out. And, well - you’ve been backstage at more concerts than you could count but this is certainly bigger, better, bustling with people carrying equipment and makeup artists and more people you couldn’t possibly identify. You’re half inclined to reach into your bag and grab your notebook to jot down exactly what you’re seeing so you can make sure to include it in the article, but you have a distinct feeling you’ll never forget it.

“I’m Jeff,” the man tells you, already setting off through the people, and you’re quick to follow, trying to maintain your pace beside him. After a second of walking in silence you realize he’s waiting for you to say yours - you clear your throat and introduce yourself, and he sends you a smile. “The band just finished their soundcheck, if you’d like to have a word with them before they go on - what’s the article about, anyway?”

Jeff shoulders the two of you through lingering groups of people until you emerge into a small hallway lined with doors, and you can hear bustling noise coming from the one closest to you - holy shit, is that Harry?

“Um - just about the shows, the tour, how everything’s going. My boss basically told me to do what I want with it, so I’ll have a better idea once I speak to the band.” It’s the loosest instruction you’ve ever been given for a piece - you’d expected a clear cut outline - but perhaps with an artist this big, Mike trusts you to know what to write. “It likely won’t be anything too personal, but I’d love to get a chance to speak with Harry before and after.”

“Sounds great,” and you can tell he’s stressed - you wonder if he’s always anxious before his client’s shows, or if there’s something special about tonight that has him worried - and then he reaches past you, twisting the doorknob closest to you and holding the door open for you to enter before him, and you give him a gracious smile before walking in.

The room isn’t as crowded with people as you’d expected but they’re bustling with energy - a woman and a man, holding a guitar, lean against the wall with each other - two other women sip water bottles, laughing loudly amongst each other - another woman leans above someone, their body hidden from view except for their legs, covered in silk, floral printed pants -

Your breath catches in your throat as Jeff shuts the door behind you both, and the sound of the door clicking shut draws far more attention to yourself than you’d expected - it seems like every pair of eyes lands on you and Jeff, and you’d decided on being a music journalist to keep away from being the center of attention. You’ve always preferred being behind the scenes, a bit, at least until your career progresses until you’re a household name for music journalism, and now -

You feel very much in the scenes, eyes on you as Rhiannon plays in the background.

And then Jeff is tapping you on your shoulder, leading you around the room to the small groups of people lingering - you shake hands with Mitch and Sarah, the couple against the wall, and the rest of his band, and they’re so nice your smile feels like it’s going to break your face in half. You’ll need to interview them at some point - nothing too intense, and you may not even need to, if Harry’s answers are satisfactory enough - and you can already feel yourself building a strange sort of rapport with the band, their kindness rubbing off on you until you practically glide beside Jeff to the woman bent over Mr. Floral Pants, whose identity you’re fairly certain you’ve already deduced.

It doesn’t make it any more surprising when the woman steps aside where she’s carefully applying powder to the man’s face, and then Harry fucking Styles is staring up at her with a smile and an outstretched hand, suit jacket matching the floral pattern of his pants. His curls are carefully slicked back from his face, skin matte with the powder the woman resumes applying to the side of his face that isn’t turned to you, and you swallow your shock before reaching to shake his hand, Rhiannon turning into Hello, I Love You, playing from a source you can’t identify.

“Nice t’meet you,” Harry says when you’ve told him your name and the magazine you work for - Jeff had already mentioned it, but it is customary to repeat it to whomever you may have to interview. “Y’know, I love Autoamerican - told Jeff, s’the only magazine I’d let interview me backstage. Don’t usually allow it.”

“Really?” your stomach flips as Harry stops bouncing his arm, but it takes just another half second for him to untwine his hand from yours - you’re sure it’s because the makeup artist fretting above him is using her thumb to wipe off powder from his nose, but it still makes your heart thump faster against your chest. “I assumed most people haven’t heard of it - it’s nowhere near Rolling Stone.”

“I love it,” he insists, dropping your hand, and he looks so casual, as if this interaction isn’t blowing up your entire life, and you’re brought back to the many moments you’d spent as a teenager fawning over him in his One Direction days - God, this feels like a dream, and you’re half inclined to pinch yourself in case it is. Maybe you’ll wake up in Mike’s office to him giving you another shitty underground LA band to interview. “The interview with Sublime s’great - read it all the time.”

You swallow thickly, grin spreading wider across your face, and before you can open your mouth to tell him about Francine’s go-to story about how Eric Wilson had flirted with her while she interviewed them for the story, Jeff interjects - “Steve hadn’t even heard of it.”

“Steve’s an idiot,” Harry starts, and you giggle - his lips lilt upwards just a bit. “Hope he wasn’t hasslin’ you ‘bout it.”

“Just a little,” you say, hoisting your bag further up your shoulder just as the makeup artist drops the powder back into the apron slung around her waist, and her manicured nails tilt Harry’s head around for a moment before she seemingly deems his makeup satisfactory before leaving, sending you a tight lipped smile as she goes. “I’d love to ask you a few questions before the show - nothing too heavy - and then I’ll observe the concert and how everything goes, ask a few questions after.”

“Sounds great,” Harry responds, lifting his fist with his thumb up and you didn’t think your heartbeat could grow any faster or louder but you suppose today is just proving you wrong time and time again. “D’you need t’record m’answers? S’a bit loud in here.”

The truth is, you’re sure you’ll have this entire experience engraved in your brain for years to come - you’ll remember every word he utters for you until your dying days - but it is more practical to have a recording. You swing your bag off your arm and open it, digging through the jumbled mess of items inside until you find your phone, and you hold it up with a nod. “Yeah - there isn’t anywhere a bit quieter, is there?”

It takes a minute of bustling - Jeff tells you two instructions to go down the hall into another room where you may find more silence - and Harry promises, accent thick and eyes rolling, to be back in twenty minutes or less, if tha’s enough time for you, ma’am, and you try to trick yourself into thinking the burn flushing up your cheeks is due to the heat of the room.

Down the hall is another door that Harry opens for you, letting you walk in first. It’s a small room, clearly meant for storage, and he shuts the door behind the pair of you. There’s - luckily, or perhaps unluckily - just enough room for you two have at least a few feet between you, and he leans against the wall with an air of casual elegance you couldn’t hope to achieve as you scroll through your phone to search for the voice recorder app.

“Hope this s’good enough - is it?” Harry inquires, leaning his head closer to yours, and you nod. “Good - wish there was a nicer spot for you, but -”

“Don’t worry about it,” you interject, smiling up at him, and he grins back, and your stomach churns violently. You almost feel like you could vomit - when he goes on, you’ll go and have a bit to eat at the table set up with foods that Jeff had wheeled you past when you arrived. Eating seems to solve more of your nerves than you’d care to admit, and you feel like you’re nearly 95% nerves right now. Your fingers fiddle with the voice recorder app, adding a title to the recording while entirely too focused on the sounds of Harry’s breathing above you, and you can practically fear his eyes boring into your face before you press record.

And, for the most part, it does go smoothly. Harry introduces himself with an ease that only comes with years of practice, so much time spent being interviewed that it must feel like as much of a second nature to him as interviewing is to you. He��s charming and charismatic - flirtatious, even - making jokes and adding lines that you make a mental note to be sure to include in your final piece - whatever direction you go - and you can’t say you’re bothered by the way he leans closer to the phone, and thus closer to you, in order for his voice to be heard more on the recording when occasional noise bustles in from outside.

You don’t need to look at the questions you’d spent weeks laboring over - every question you inquire derives directly from his answers like he’s practically feeding them to you, and then you’re interviewing him so naturally, you could nearly fool yourself into thinking it’s an organic conversation between friends.

What’s his process to prepare for shows? Well, listening to Fleetwood Mac and eating finger foods, of course - he loves mozzarella sticks. Does Fleetwood Mac make you less nervous for shows? No, he doesn’t get too anxious before shows, now that he’s out of the band. He just loves Fleetwood Mac - he could listen to them at any time of the day. What do you think makes your solo career less anxiety-inducing than being in the band? Different fans let him be himself more. There’s less pressure to be someone he isn’t - do you think he could’ve worn a floral printed suit at a One Direction concert?

And, in the end, twenty minutes hardly feels like it, and by the time Harry tilts his head over the screen of your phone to check the time, you could nearly convince yourself that you’d merely spent a minute with the heartthrob, and it pains you to stop the recording.

“How’d I do?” he questions, cheeky smile indenting the dimple in his cheek, and you feel like you need to dip your face in ice once he goes on stage - your face hasn’t felt anything less than piping hot since the first moment he rested eyes on you, and his kind-bordering-on-flirtatious nature only makes your skin heat more under his gaze.

It isn’t as though you’d have it any other way, though.

“Perfect,” and you send him a smile. “I’ll watch the show - probably eat a bit, too, if I’m being honest - and maybe ask you a few questions. How many shows are you doing in LA?”

Harry reaches past you, grabbing the doorknob and opening the door for you once more, and you slip out with a small smile as he follows, face twisted in what’s clearly a show of being in deep thought. “Four. An’ a few more on the West Coast ‘fore we move out - reckon you’ll need t’come t’a few more?”

“Depends.” He looks at you curiously as the two of you make your way back to the room you’d been in before, and when you enter, it’s clearly in a more prominent state of preparation for the show - there’s more bustle and movement between every band member and Jeff, who looks entirely relieved to see you two come in as She’s a Rainbow thumps softly, volume clearly turned down on whatever produces the music. “If I feel like I’ve got enough material from this show, then that’ll be it - I usually just do reviews of specific gigs, and this is a lot broader - so I really don’t know.”

Harry nods, and you feel a flutter in your heart at how intently he seems to be listening to you, like he really cares, and you’re sure it’s a facade - he probably has a million other things on his mind as Jeff descends upon the both of you, whisking him away as he calls goodbye! to you - but still. When was the last time you’d felt listened to? By Mike, or by the security guard outside, or even from your own parents when you try to convince them over and over that you have a plan, that your degree wasn’t a waste of time when you could’ve been a doctor -

Well, Harry’s a gentleman, you decide, sliding your phone into the back pocket of your flares as you reach in your bag for your notepad. You can tell they’re preparing to go on soon and so you descend against the wall, grabbing your pen from deep inside the confines of your bag to scribble the essential notes of what you’ll need - it’ll make it easier when it’s time to write, rather than listening to the entire 20 minute interview again to try and find the important sections to include.

His responses to your question still burn fresh in your mind, and you began scribbling your bullet points on the small notepad in your hands. It’s decently easy to block out the chatter of the room you’re in along with its music, volume turned down further until it’s hardly audible, and it really is a skill you’ve mastered, though you suppose you’ve had to - trying to take notes for articles about gigs occurring in buildings so small that their noise reverberates off of every surface has made you a master in tuning out noise surrounding you.

You are aware, and acutely, at that, when the band starts exiting through the door beside you. They don’t look nervous, returning your encouraging smiles with ones of their own, and you watch them pour out the door with confidence practically radiating off of them. Well, that’s something to mention, isn’t it? Most of the bands you’d interviewed were practically vomiting with nerves -

Harry takes up the rear, fingers running through his slicked back hair, and you can’t tell if it’s a nervous habit or if he’s simply trying to let his curls fall in front of his eyes more. Jeff walks in front of him, giving you a smile as he leaves, and the singer stops beside you.

Your breath just about catches in your throat as you look up at him, and he’s staring down at you with a decidedly ambiguous look in his eyes, and you smile at him. “Good luck out there.”

“You’re gonna come and watch?”

You nod. “Eventually - I’m gonna eat something first, finish my notes. Maybe give myself a tour of the backstage in case I decide to include it.”

“Sounds good t’me,” Harry says, but he doesn’t make a motion to leave, and then his eyes roll down your body and is he fucking checking you out? Because - no - that’s crazy. That would cement into your brain the knowledge that this is a dream, and not reality, because there’s no fucking way Harry Styles is checking you out, eyes roaming from your eyes to your stomach to your - “I like your pants. Where’d you get ‘em?”

Ah. Of course. Fashion icon, he is, inquiring about the pants you’d chosen specifically because they looked like something he may like. “These?” You glance down as though you’d forgotten what pants you’d donned, as though you hadn’t spent hours in front of your closet envisioning what outfit you could wear to impress him. “I think they’re from Zara. Got them a couple years back.”

“They’re pretty.”

“Why, thank you -”

“Harry!”

Jeff’s voice calling from outside the room snaps you both out of your conversation, a slightly embarrassed grin spreading across Harry’s face that you’re sure is mirroring your own. His cheeks are tinged pink and he clears his throat.

“Sorry - gotta go - make sure y’try the mozzarella sticks, ‘kay? They’re good,” Harry tells you, and you grin, drumming the pen clutched between your fingers against the notepad in your hands.

“Will do,” you reply, and then you lift your hand and point to the door, raising your eyebrows with a smile. “Go break a leg - and then be ready to talk about it when you’re done!”

He doesn’t say anything else - just gives you a thumbs up and slips out the door, and you can hear his frenzied apologies to Jeff as their voices fade away, surely preparing to get on stage and sing his heart out and blow the fucking stadium away, but you can hardly focus on it. Because - God, you really don’t want to sound like a narcissist - but he was joking around with you, complimented your pants, and he did technically check you out, even if it was just to see your pants.

Was he flirting with you?

Surely not. No, that would be absurd. He’s probably just bored - maybe entertaining random people backstage is his way of dealing with his nerves.

That makes a bit more sense.

When you glance back down at your notepad, the page half filled with scribbled bullet points of things you’d sworn to remember, and when you click your pen open to continue your list, you find that you can’t quite think of anything else to write. All you can think about is the mozzarella sticks waiting for you, and then standing in the wings to watch him sing his heart out to a crowd of adoring fans that you, at one point, would have killed to be apart of -

You shove your pen and pad back into your bag with a determined spin of your heels. Food first - contemplation second.

~~~

The show is - needless to say - amazing.

You’d feasted on slightly-cold mozzarella sticks that were, even in their lowered temperatures, immensely good, and clearly garnered all the affection Harry had for them. The food table was nearly completely empty, crew members repeatedly coming up to fill plates with vegetables and snacks, and so you simply gathered the last three sticks of celery once you were done with your sticks before taking a leisurely stroll along the backstage area. Celery firm between your teeth, you pulled out your notepad and your pen once more and jotted notes of what you could possibly include in the article to jog your memory later -

It takes a while, admittedly. You don’t want to leave anything out, and eventually you have two pages filled with notes in your handwriting that would surely be illegible to anyone else who happened upon them - and, sure, your pages are small, but still. Two pages is a lot, and you’re sure most of it won’t even make it into the article but you don’t want to risk forgetting any important information.

A trip to the bathroom - perusing the food table again to pick up the last few carrot sticks - and the show is nearly halfway over, so you decide it may be time to slip into the wings and watch. Take notes, possibly, but mainly just listen and absorb the music and the atmosphere and exactly how the fans react to his every move. That’s what the people want to know, isn’t it? It’s what you would want to know - so you slip past the lingering groups of people into the wings of the stage, where you get a clear view of Harry and his band, singing his heart out to a tune you know to be Kiwi.

It’s ear splitting, truly, in a way that none of the other gigs you’d witnessed had been. But it sounds good - better than good - and he’s as charismatic on stage as he is off, waggling his eyebrows during the more suggestive lines and undoing the button of his suit jacket, and the latter garners a deafening scream from the adoring fans in the crowd.

No, you won’t need to take notes, at least not yet. You’ll remember this forever, won’t you? Watching him work the crowd like he was born to do it, like it’s a second nature and you’re sure it is, at this point. It’s all you can do to stand there, watching him, and you’re sure you look no different from the other fans in the crowd, your eyes wide and lips parted in absolute awe of him -

His head turns to the side, briefly, as if he can sense your eyes on him above anyone else’s. In reality you’re sure he’d simply turned his head to flick a sweaty curl out of his face but it’s never a bad thing to dream right? And your gaze locks for just a moment, his eyebrows raising when he sees your face, and heat burns at your cheeks before his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his right eye shuts in a quick wink before he’s turning back to the crowd as if his attention had never left them.

Shit. You nearly drop your damn carrot. God, he’s a fucking tease, and you’re not even sure he knows it - that this experience will never leave your brain for as long as you walk this Earth, watching him wink as he stared into the depths of your fucking soul, clad in a gorgeous suit with his gorgeous hair and -

Harry truly is a sight to behold, and you’re more than content to watch him forever.

Forever ends up being another half hour or so before you’re made entirely too aware of the fact that you have to pee - not insanely bad, but enough to make you shift uncomfortably from side to side before sighing, turning and making your way further backstage in your search for the bathroom. In your determined tour of the backstage you’d forgotten to search for the restroom, and you wander about for nearly five whole minutes before getting to it -

You do your business. There’s not much more explanation needed.

It’s when your washing your hands, though, water freezing cold against your palms, that you become slightly aware of a myriad of noises occurring outside the restroom. At first you choose not to focus on it, shoving your hands beneath the air dryer to ease your soaking, cold hands, and the noise of violent air assaulting your palms drowns out the scuffling sounds from outside.

When the dryer turns off, and you reach down to wipe your damp hands on your pants, the noises haven’t stopped. And, sure, no one could expect it to be completely silent backstage, but whatever you’re hearing isn’t the normal laughter and chatter and muffled music that you’re used to hearing -

It sounds like someone is fighting, and your hand freezes in its place on the cool metal doorknob. You lean forward, scrunching your nose as you plainly try harder to hear what’s happening -

But, Hell. You have a job to do - you need to get back to the wings to watch the remaining few minutes of the set before Harry leaves and, subsequently, returns for the encore, and you’d intended to write with detail about his closing repetition of Kiwi. So you grab the doorknob, swing the door open and step out, and freeze nearly immediately once you’ve exited.

There is a fight - not as violent as you’d expected - as the security guard from inside scuffles with Steve, who looks positively wasted in a way you’ve come to know all too well, doing gigs in LA. His face shines with a sheen layer of sweat, skin glowing in the artificial light, and his fists move slowly to pummel into the other security guard’s back. It’s, truthfully, a bit pathetic to watch - he isn’t putting up much of a fight against the guard trying to hold him, and your mouth parts with poorly-concealed confusion at the display in front of you.

You’re not sure what to say - or do - or think - standing in the doorway of the bathroom as you watch the poor excuse of a fight, Steve nearly toppling to the ground as the other guard tries to contain him.

“Come on, Steve - don’t be like this -”

Then the other security guard looks up and sees you, and the expression on his face nearly makes you burst into laughter, but you contain it with a bit more difficulty than you’d like to admit. He looks annoyed, like he’s absolutely done with his coworker, and also slightly embarrassed. Clearly, he’d dragged Steve into the hallway containing the bathrooms with the hopes of nobody seeing either of them, and you’ve interrupted his bid for privacy desperately. “Sorry, ma’am,” the guard says, grabbing one of Steve’s flailing fists in his hands. “Don’t mind us - he’s drunk - just trying to contain him.”

You’re doing a damn good job, you want to say, but you bite back the retort with a small nod and a whisper of a smile on your face, walking with your back to the wall past their display in the hopes of Steve not seeing you. He hadn’t been particularly nice to you when you’d first seen him and you can tell he’s in a much more heightened state, now - he’d been drunk when you’d seen him before and you can tell it’s only gotten worse.

Maybe you should’ve told Jeff the guard was drunk?

Well, it’s counterproductive to dwell on the past.

You’re not so lucky, though - you’ve barely made it down five steps down the hallway before Steve lifts his head, pupils blown and skin even stickier looking than before, and he gives you the same disgusted look as though you’re something his dog had left on the grass. “Hey - hey - Jim - do you know who that is?”

And the other security guard - Jim - just rolls his eyes. “No, Steve, I don’t - stop making a fool out of yourself.”

“She works at - at - Eat to the Beat - Parallel Lines - what is it?”

Do you answer him? You don’t quite know. You just swallow thickly, forcing yourself not to don the smile that’s urging its way onto your lips as you hear roaring screams from the crowd that alerts you to the fact that, if Harry isn’t done with his set yet, he’s close, and you need to watch the end. “Autoamerican. Those are all good albums, though.”

“She’s snarky - get off of me, Jim -”

In Steve’s final bid for freedom his legs kick out, and his sneakered foot knocks into your ankle, and it’s certainly not hard by any stretch of the definition but it’s enough to catch you off balance, his toe hooking into the loose fabric around your ankles as he brings his foot back to kick again. One kick did it, though - you tumble to the ground, legs flying out from under you until you land on your ass on the hard floor, your bag slipping off your shoulder, and its contents scatter across the ground.

Fuck. That hurt, more than you’d care to admit, as you brace your elbows behind you to stop your head from knocking into the ground. Your ass hurts and you can see Steve’s leg bracing backwards for another kick, and you push yourself backwards so his foot merely pushes against the air.

You can already see Jim opening his mouth to desperately say sorry when a set of footsteps interrupts his apology - you don’t have to look to your side to see who it is, the smell of expensive cologne wafting before him like an introduction. You practically feel him before you see him.

Your name falls off Harry’s lips entirely too easily, like he’d been looking for you in the overtly small window of space he has before he has to go back on stage - his hair is messy and his skin is sweaty and he bends down next to you with such sentimentality in his eyes - you almost feel like a child again.

“Are y’okay?” Harry questions, and his hand rests on the small of your back and warmth seems to seep through your body from its spawning point, palm moving in circles against your sweater so gently you can tell he’s scared to go much harder. “Wha’ -?”

For his eyes had just landed on the sight in front of you - Jim managed to pull Steve up, the latter clearly coming to his senses at least a little bit, and his eyes narrow at the sight of you on the floor and subsequently widen as he sees Harry next to you.

“Wha’ happened?” And you can hear anger quivering under his voice like boiling water, ready to overflow, and you instinctively reach up to press your hand against his forearm - you do it to your niece all the time when you can tell she’s on the verge of a tantrum and it always works on her - but she is five, and Harry’s twenty years her senior, so, needless to say, the motion doesn’t do much to soothe him. “Fightin’ back here, kickin’ her - you’re s’posed t’be security guards!”

“It’s okay, Harry -”

“S’not okay -”

And then there’s another set of footsteps jogging over to you, and you look up to see Jeff -

“Har, you need to get back out -” but you can see the confusion set into his features as he stands over the scene, eyes flickering to you and Harry on the floor to Jim and Steve, the former having settled the latter into a fairly calm position. The scent of alcohol is strong and you can practically watch as Jeff smells it, his nose crinkling. “Is he drunk?”

“He is drunk, an’ got into a fight wit’ -”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupt, squeezing Harry’s arm again as you push yourself to stand, attempting not to wince at the pain in your ass as your muscles tense. He’s looking at you like you’ve just been hit by a car instead of having a mild scuffle with a security guard, eyes wide and concerned, and you shake your head at him. “Didn’t get into a fight, Harry - he accidentally kicked me. It’s really fine - you need to go back out, anyway.”

“She’s right,” Jeff insists, reaching down to tug Harry up as his eyes bore into the sight in front of you, Steve slowly calming himself down until he’s simply red in the face and reeking of booze. “Come on, Har - you need to get on.”

But Harry’s already bending down again, grabbing your pen and your notebook and your phone (you can see a crack in the screen that most certainly hadn’t been there just a mere ten minutes ago) and you could nearly laugh at the display he’s putting on, shoving your items back into your back, if Jeff’s demeanor wasn’t bordering on murderous as he drags Harry up again. You reach down and grab your bag, now fully stocked again with all of the items that had clattered out, and you give the tussling security guards one final fleeting look before following Jeff and Harry as they make their way down the hall.

“Y’sure you’re okay?” Harry questions, slowing his pace so you can jog beside him, much to Jeff’s lingering annoyance as he brings his fingers up to rub at the space between his eyes. “Y’should know - tha’ doesn’t usually happen -”

“I get it,” you tell him.

“No, really.” You’ve reached the wings of the stage, and Jeff leaves the pair of you alone to descend on to where the band stands, clearly waiting for the cue to go on. Harry runs a hand through his hair, and he looks oddly exasperated and you wish you could get it through his head that it really isn’t a big deal - “Someone will take care of the guards, okay?”

“Don’t fire them,” you insist, even though you’re sure he has no say in it. “Not Jim, at least.”

“Jim -?”

“The sober one.”

“Oh.” He pauses, dropping his hands to his sides. “I can’t make any promises.”

“Just try.”

“Will do.”

There’s another brief second of silence before you nod towards the stage where he’s needed - the few lowly minutes between the end of the show and the encore has come to an end, and you’re sure people are beginning to wonder if he’s not coming back. “Go on, Har. There’s people waiting for you.”

“M’going!” And he isn’t going, just staring at you with his brows furrowed, and you raise your own with a confused stare. “Are y’gonna come t’any more shows?”

You pause, nibbling on your bottom lip as you contemplate your answer. “Well - maybe. If I need more information.” “You should,” he tells you, and you tilt your head to the side. “Look, I don’t want your only impression of m’shows t’be that they’re violent an’ crazy.”

“I don’t think -”

“Jus’ one more? In two days. I’ll send you th’address. I really want you t’come -”

Before you can process the request Jeff has stepped forward, hooking his arm in Harry’s and practically dragging him towards the stage, and you watch him prance back in front of the audience like it’s his God given purpose and perhaps it is. You’ve never quite met anyone like him, you don’t think, and you’d certainly had a perception of what you’d imagined him to be like based on the insane amount of time you’d spent obsessing over his band when you were younger -

Your mouth feels suddenly dry as you watch him begin, and the music seems to reverberate beneath your skin, and suddenly - without having to think about it much at all, really - you know it won’t take much convincing on his part to get you back for a second night.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles series #harry styles drabble #harry styles one shot #im sure im going to regret starting this as a series and not trying to make it one long piece #but honestly??#im working on another fic right now so i just want the beginnings of this to be out there #i hope u enjoy

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itsbeaconhillsbaby · 3 years

Text

city lights, pretty sights || tom holland x reader

a/n: hello again! so i was completely overwhelmed by the lovely response my first tom holland mini fic/imagine/blurb thing received from you guys. and i had a couple more ideas so decided to keep going and see what you all think. once again - i hope you guys are liking these, let me know if you are and if you wanna have a chat about anything tom related - hmu, I'd love to chat!

word count: 1673 warning: none (that i can remember anyways) summary: wandering through nyc late at night still in your premiere outfits; pizza, piggy back rides and cute scenes

“What’s your thoughts on pizza?”

You nuzzle closer into the side of the figure next to you, feeling them guiding and supporting you along the path as you walk together. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t holding on a little tighter than normal. Looking up to him you grinned, hair falling out of the loose style it’d been sitting in all night, the bouncy curls now framing your face, “I love pizza.” You could feel the presence of Tom’s security, walking a little further back giving you both some space, but still close enough that if anything at all happened, they’d be there to get you both home. You approach a tiny little hole-in-the-wall takeaway pizzeria, Tom pulling himself behind you, keeping hold of your hand as you walked through the tiny entrance. “Two slices of your pepperoni pizza please?!” you ask, grabbing a couple dollars from inside your bag and handing it over to the man. the place was empty. “Ay, 2 minutes!” You thank him and lean back slightly, now bracing yourself against Tom as he wraps both his arms around your waist and tucks his chin into your neck. sweeping a couple tiny kisses below your ear. “Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?” he whispers, brushing some hair behind your ear with his nose. “Only every single time you’ve looked at me,” you laugh, “It’s not every day I have make-up artists and dresses delivered to me. But I think you’ll find it’s me who can’t keep her eyes off of you. You were amazing tonight, y’know?” He hums into your bare shoulder, your body vibrating against his touch. Tonight was crazy; and you still couldn’t quite believe that it wasn’t all just some very elaborate dream. You had been making breakfast a couple days ago for you both, spoiling Tom now that he was back in London fresh off his press tour. You had come into the bedroom to tell him everything was ready when he pulled you down onto the bed and into his chest, gently asking if he could bring you as his plus one to his premiere in New York. The days that followed were crazy. Some designers had sent some dresses once they were told Tom was bringing a plus one, all eager to be the first to dress ‘her’. It was overwhelming to say the least. You were brought back from your memory by a saucy pizza aroma, your stomach reacting after now realising how long it had been since you’d eaten. You’d been so nervous all day, and everything was so stressful this morning...this pizza couldn’t come faster. Aside from your rumbling tummy, there was another big reason why neither of you had wanted to go straight home after the premiere. You hadn’t looked at your phones yet. Nor did you particularly want to. You knew the media would have been chomping at the bit to release the photos and articles of Tom and his ‘mystery girl’ - you were making the most of your normality with him before it was all blown to smithereens. Before you could dwell on that thought any longer, two slices of thick NYC pizza wrapped in napkins atop paper plates slid across the counter towards you. Tom unwound his arms from around your body and you both grabbed your slices before giving your thanks and leaving the pizzeria with a jingle of the bell above the door. //// You finished the last few bites of your pizza, leaving the crust before throwing it into the nearest bin. The city lights were glittering, cars still lining the streets despite the late hour. It definitely was the city that never sleeps and you loved it here. Despite it being hot and sticky all day, a cold wind had picked up and the material of your dress wasn’t exactly the warmest. Tiny little goosebumps has appeared on your arms, the little hairs standing up straight. “You wanna head back? It’s getting cold,” tom asked, he shuffled himself out of his burgundy suit jacket and held it open for you to put your arms in before sliding it up and over your shoulders, enveloping you. “-Or we can call a car here?” he continued. You had stopped where you stood, just at one of the entrances to central park. “We can have a car come in about 15 minutes if you want to take a little stroll about the park, Tom?” His security guard had noticed the lack of movement and had come over to see if either of you needed his assistance. “That sounds great, thank you!” you called, refusing to let this day end just yet. “Thank you for today, the paparazzi and the media and all the shouting. It’s a lot to deal with. Would put many off, but you handled it like a complete pro. We did the right thing didn’t we?” Tom asked, keeping his eyes forward to the grassy path lined with trees. “Hey. Look at me.” You turn him to face you, the lamplights highlighting his eyes as they trained themselves onto you, “I knew what I was getting myself into, and no amount of press or media stunts are gonna ruin this. No way. We’ll deal with it - as long as you want to keep making these films, I’ll support you. through the good and the bad, right?” He shifts on his feet, slightly uncomfortable with the conversation. His lifestyle had gotten in the way of his relationships before, you knew that. and Tom felt deeply about the people he loved. It was partly why you loved him and a reason why you’d both agreed to keep you out of the limelight for a while. You knew he was giving you a get out of jail free card. A reason to leave if you needed it. “I’m in this. I promise,” you reassured him. Youu bring your hands up to his face, caressing his cheek slightly, brushing the curls out of his face with your hand, “Since when did you get so soppy anyway?” “What can I say...it’s part of the charm!” you saw that twinkle jump back into his eyes, his playful energy taking centre stage pushing the tiredness, vulnerability and fear to the back of his mind. You continued to walk through the park a little, still within eyeshot of the entrance, careful not to wander too far. Enjoying each other’s company in a peaceful section of this intense city. At that moment, in classic NYC style, the heavens opened up and a heavy rainstorm thundered into the ground. The pair of you started laughing, the rain catching you both slightly as you took cover under one of the trees lining the pathway. You noticed Tom’s security waving you over, your car was here and the stretch from where you were both sheltered under the tree to the entrance was fully open. “Right, hop on!” You look at Tom confused as he squats down slightly, his arms held out behind him. Gathering up your dress slightly, you grip onto his shoulders, count down from 3 and hop onto his back, wrapping your legs around his waist and linking your arms around his shoulders and neck, clinging on with your face pressed into his hair. “Go go go!” You burst out laughing as he makes a beeline for the car, the rain pelting down on the both of you, completely soaking the pair of you to the bone. Your hair whipped around your face and you could hear Tom laughing as he ran, you couldn’t help but join in. You closed your eyes, tilted your head up and let it hit you for a moment, you were by far the luckiest girl in the world. You’d reached the car before you knew it, Tom gently lowered you back to the ground as you hopped back off - keeping your dress off the ground in the hopes not to ruin it completely. Opening the car door and ducking your head in, you slid across the seats, Tom on your heels. “Well, that was unexpected.” Tom looked at you, his full curls plastered to his head - shirt dripping, and burst out laughing, “I love you but you look like a raccoon.” You playfully hit on him on the shoulder before bursting into laughter yourself, “Oh shut up. ” //// Tom was, as expected, trending on all social media the next day. Articles and photos of his past relationships and rumoured romances brought to the surface as your red-carpet photos together came to light. However, the press hadn’t caught the best photos of the night at all.

In amongst all the posed pictures, two slightly blurry but still recognisable photos were moving their way across the internet. One taken by a fan through the window and across the road from the pizzeria - of Tom cuddling you from behind as you leaned back into him dressed in gown and tux. And another, of you with your head back, hair wild, laughing and Tom carrying you on his back, floppy and curly hair, massive grin and eyes crinkling at the sides - taken by another fan, you suspected. As gorgeous as the media pics were, you knew behind them was stress and nervousness from both parties, and you couldn’t help the feeling in your stomach that someone had managed to capture both of you completely natural and free, enjoying yourselves and each other on such a monumental day for both Tom and for your relationship. You liked and saved both the pictures before hearing the click of your phone locking shut as you placed it back on the bedside table. Rolling over you curled yourself behind Tom before he shifted himself onto his back, arm sliding under your shoulders and shifting you into his side. You close your eyes as he presses a sleepy kiss to your forehead and you let yourself finally relax - completely and utterly content.

#tom holland #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x you #tom holland imagines #tom holland fluff #lisa writes #I really enjoy writing these and hope to continue to do so #is it a little ooc?#probably #tom holland fanfic

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procrastinatingnerd · 3 years

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Hi everyone! So this was my first time taking part in the @osemanversebigbang but I had so much fun!! I can't wait to read everyone's entries! 💜

Title: Angel Rahimi And The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Lunch Break

Characters: Angel, Juliet, Rowan, Jimmy, Lister, Bliss, two of Angel’s future uni friends (OCs).

Spoilers? Minor spoilers of important events in “I Was Born For This”.

Word Count: 3.6k

Ships: Bicci, one joke about Juliet/Rowan.

~Joan of Arc (Probably)

“I am so fucking tired”

“Right, time’s up, put your pens down.” The exam officer says from the front of the room. I scribble one last sentence before my hand gives out, and I all but throw my pen onto the desk, sighing as dramatically as I can. This week is a fucking nightmare. Exams and assignments are the piss. Fuck uni, I’m ready to drop out. Or drop dead. Either works, honestly.

As I leave the exam hall, I walk past some people from the students’ union. They’re handing out flyers for the Christmas ball next week. My housemates are all planning on going, but my friends and I planned our present swap for that night, so we’re going to spend it eating a fuck ton of snacks and watching the cheesiest Christmas films we can find. I can’t wait, I bought them each a bag of their favourite sweets from the American candy shop, it's going to be so much fun!

But that’s next week. Right now, all I want is to sit at a table that doesn’t have an exam paper on it, and eat something very greasy and very unhealthy. There’s a pizza place just on the edge of campus, run by some of the culinary arts students, and they make the best sauce ever. It’s pretty cheap too, which makes it a favourite for most people, especially at the end of a semester, when everyone’s bank accounts are running low.

I have about an hour until I need to be back in the exam hall, so I take full advantage of the outdoor seating and collapse into a chair after ordering. My pizza is brought out to me not long after, and I breathe in the smell. Nothing has smelt more gorgeous than the slices sitting in front of me. It’s a surprisingly warm day, for December at least, and for a moment, everything feels calm. I can hear a bird singing in a tree somewhere, other students are hanging around campus, most with their noses in their phones or in textbooks, and I actually let myself relax for a bit. I’ve done all the revision I can for this next exam, and I’m in desperate need of a break. I deserve this.

I pick up my first slice of pizza, and bring it up to my mouth. As I’m about to take a bite, however, my phone rings. I put the pizza down with a sigh and answer the phone without looking at who’s calling. Mum probably sensed I wasn’t doing any work, and is calling to check up on me.

“Hello?” I say tiredly.

“Angel, hi! Is this a good time??” I grin at the sound of Juliet’s voice.

“Hell yeah, it’s a perfect time! What’s up?”

“Wait, you don’t know why I’m calling?” Juliet says hesitantly. Shit. What have I forgotten now? I know it’s not her birthday. Wait, is it mine?? I swear exams rot your brain, have I actually forgotten my own birthday?

“No…?” I ask after internally monologuing for way too long.

“Oh my god, you don’t know??” Juliet screeches in my ear, “Angel go look at your phone, it’s urgent!”

Now very concerned, I put Juliet on speaker and, for the first time all morning, actually read the notifications filling my lock screen. I open the Twitter news one, and my mouth drops open in shock.

“Holy shit.”

On my screen is a news article with a headline that reads, “THE ARK’S JIMMY KAGA-RICCI AND LISTER BIRD’S SECRET RELATIONSHIP EXPOSED”, and just below it sits a large photo of Jimmy and Lister, standing outside a pub, kissing. I don’t believe it.

“Holy fu- Hold on a second. Mate, isn’t that the pub by Piero’s house?!” I say, bringing my phone as close to my face as I can, as if that’ll help me see better. There’s a loud shuffling noise on the other end of the line, and then I hear a gasp.

“Oh my god, you’re right!” Juliet says. “Rowan said they were going on holiday, but I thought he meant abroad or something.” I smile at that. Ever since our little jaunt to Kent last summer, Juliet and I have kept in touch with the boys. We even have a group chat now; us and them and even Bliss is in it. I’m so glad we stayed friends.

At first, Rowan was really quiet, and if he did speak he and Juliet would almost always end up arguing, but they’ve been getting along quite well lately. I’m not saying I ship it or anything, I’ve learnt my lesson there, but I have to say, fangirl-to enemies-to lovers would make a wicked fanfiction trope.

“Did you see any of this coming?” Juliet continues. “Surely Jimmy would have said something to you?”

“He said he was dating someone, but didn’t want to give details because they were taking things slow. Well, that and that celebrity phone hacking scandal freaked him right the fuck out, remember?” I say.

"That's

right, he stopped talking on the group chat for like two weeks, didn’t he?” Juliet giggles back. “Well, nevertheless, I’m happy for them. They’re cute together.”

“Yeah, they are.” I grin again. “Oh my god, poor Rowan though! I’d hate to live with a couple, especially a new one! It’d be nauseating.”

“Oh I know, right? And imagine what’ll happen when they have their first fight!” Juliet gasps again. I shudder at the thought.

“I’m muting the group chat when that happens.” I joke.

“Not a bad idea.” Juliet laughs back, then pauses. “Oh, Angel, I’m sorry I’ve got the get going, but do you want to skype later?”

“Yeah, no problem! I’ve got a revision session at 6, but I should be free by 9ish?”

“Sounds perfect! See you then!” Juliet says, and with that, she’s gone, and I’m back to sitting alone with my pizza.

Jimmy and Lister. Holy shit. I don’t think anyone in the fandom saw this coming. Everything has been about Jowan, since the fandom started growing it’s the only ship that ever existed. No one bothered writing fics about any other pairings. The only Jimmy/Lister fics I ever came across were platonic ones, and even they made sure to mention Jimmy’s boyfriend Rowan.

Oh god, I hope they’re okay. The fans got so crazy when Bliss and Rowan’s relationship was exposed. Jimmy/Lister is the final nail in the Jowan coffin. Jimmy must be having the panic attack of his life! I’ve got to-

My phone rings again.

I look down at the screen, and see Jimmy’s name. I take a deep breath, and answer.

“Jimmy, hi! How are-”

“Have you seen it??”

“Yes.”

“Oh god. This isn’t how we wanted to tell you guys.”

“You sure? Because getting caught by the national press worked so well for you last time.” I tease. Silence. Oops, probably not the best thing to remind him of right now.

“Jimmy, you still there?” I say carefully. There’s a slight rustle on his end, which means he probably just nodded. “Everything is going to be fine, I promise. The fans will move on. They already did with Jowan, right?”

“But what if something happens again? Something like-”

“It won’t. You guys have better security now, and you’re doing less public events. You’re going to be fine.” I hope and pray that I’m saying the right things. Jimmy and I have gotten close lately, but I’m nowhere near as good at helping him deal with his anxiety as Rowan and Lister are. There’s more silence, until finally, Jimmy speaks again.

“Okay. Yeah. Yeah I think you’re right. Thanks, Angel.”

“Course I’m right! If there’s one thing I know, it’s fandom drama.” Jimmy laughs, and I grin back. “And don’t forget, you’re not alone in this. This is happening to Lister too, and no doubt Rowan and Bliss will be there to help you. Just talk to them.”

“Thank you Angel, I’ll go do that now.”

“Perfect! Love you Jim, I’ll text you later.” I say, and the call ends.

He’ll be okay. He’s got too many people who love him not to be. I take another breath and put my phone down on the table. As soon as I do, however, it buzzes again, and I see Jimmy is trying to facetime me. Now very concerned, I answer it and hold the phone up so he can see my face properly.

“Jimmy, are you okay, what’s happened??” I ask anxiously, but he looks fine. He looks at me with a confused expression.

“Nothing, I’m just talking to the others, like you said.” He says. It’s only me and him on the call. I stare at him in silence for a moment.

“Jimmy, mate… I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not any of them” I say slowly, and to my surprise, Jimmy laughs.

“Yeah I know, but I was kind of hoping to have you here, too, if that’s okay?” He says sheepishly. “It’s okay if you’re busy, it’s just that… I don’t know, you’re good with this stuff and you make me feel calm? Sorry, I know that’s a lot to just dump on you.” Jimmy doesn’t look at me directly, and I start to feel tears in my eyes.

“Well damn, Jim, I guess if you truly love me that much, I can stick around for a bit.” I laugh, and quickly glance at the time. “My lunch break is only halfway over, anyway, so I have plenty of time to hang out while you talk to the others.”

Jimmy seems to let out a breath, like he’d been holding it, and grins.

Just as I’m about to start talking again, I hear a ping, and Lister’s face appears on screen, followed by Rowan and Bliss.

“Hey Jimjam, you okay?” Rowan asks, looking as calm as ever. “Oh hey Angel.” He adds. I give him an awkward smile.

“Wait, Angel's here?” Bliss interrupts before Jimmy can answer. “Nice, how’s the week from hell going? Didn’t think we’d hear from you until you’d made it through.”

“Yeah it’s rough, but I’m getting there. This is a welcome distraction though.” I grin at her.

“So you’ve seen the pictures then. They look good, right?” Lister chimes in, before correcting himself. “I mean, it’s horrible they found us, fucking pricks, but you’ve got to admit we look good.”

“You can be so self-centred sometimes.” Bliss laughs.

“Come on Lister, this isn’t a joke.” Rowan chides him.

“Well, I guess he isn’t wrong..” Jimmy mumbles nervously and I see him smile a bit.

“See, Jimmy agrees with me!” Lister argues back at Rowan, who rolls his eyes.

“It’s still not something to laugh about.” Rowan says firmly. “Cecily’s already on damage control, cancelling some events, beefing up the security at others, and giving the tabloids hell. She’s also let your grandad know, Jimmy.”

“Wait, aren’t you guys all down there already?” I ask, confused.

“Nah we got back last night. That picture was taken when we went out for lunch the other day. Took their time printing it.” Lister says.

“Probably needed time to pad out their articles. Seriously, how can they write so many pages about two people dating?” Bliss adds.

“Probably whining about how Jowan is now well and truly dead.” Rowan rolls his eyes again. “Although I have to say, I’m pretty happy about that part.” I cringe slightly as he says that. I will never not regret being one of the Jowan fangirls.

“So Cecily’s already got a plan? That’s good, that’s a bit of a relief.” Jimmy speaks up, looking visibly more relaxed than he had sounded over the phone earlier.

“Yeah she’s got it sorted, so we can start planning our Christmas party!” Lister says, making the others groan.

“Lister what the hell makes you think we should be throwing a massive fucking party right now?!” Rowan says, his voice growing louder. Lister goes quiet, looking like he wants to shrink into his seat, before eventually speaking up again.

“Look, it doesn’t have to be anything big, I just mean… Angel, you’re gonna be in London with Juliet, right? Come over, drag Bliss with you, Jimmy can invite his grandad, Rowan you can bring Jade, and there you go, that’s our party!”

“That’s...actually a good idea.” Rowan says, surprised.

“Yeah, that sounds like fun!” Jimmy adds.

“I’m up for it, Angel, do you think Juliet will wanna come?” Bliss says.

“Hell yeah she would, let’s do it!” I reply with a massive smile on my face. Partying with Bliss and the boys sounds like the best way to spend my Christmas London trip. I’ll make sure to tell Juliet about it when I talk to her later. As I start planning all the food I’m going to bring over, and wondering what the boys’ flat will look like at Christmas, the conversation starts up again.

“You sure you’re doing alright, Jimmy? I can come back home if you need me to.” Rowan says, focusing things on the issue at hand again.

“No no, don’t worry, stay with your family. They’d kill me if I made you miss out on spending time with them.” Jimmy jokes. “I’ve got Lister here, and Cecily’s number if I need it. My head isn’t giving me too much grief right now, anyway.”

“Wait, Lister, you’re there with him?” Bliss asks.

“Yeah, check it out!” Lister says, before picking up his phone and moving. He takes us out of what I think was his room, through a hallway and comes out into a large living room, where we can see Jimmy on a sofa looking at his phone. “Say hi to the chat, Jim!”

Everyone laughs as Jimmy gives an awkward wave to Lister’s phone. Lister then hangs up and launches himself into view of Jimmy’s screen, and the two shuffle about until they’re practically sitting on top of each other, faces

squished together so the tiny phone camera captures them both. I hate how cute they look together.

“Alright, if you’re sure, Jimmy,” Rowan says, smiling for probably the first time this whole call.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Jimmy smiles back. “This whole situation is terrifying, and I’m more than ready to hide in my room and not see another mad fangirl for the rest of my life, but... if I did that we’d never get to hang out with Angel again.” He finishes, biting his lip as if unsure of whether or not the joke will hit.

“Uh..ouch!” I clap my hand on top of my heart dramatically and laugh, while the others join in. “I’ll have you know I’ve abandoned my fangirl ways. Mostly. Sort of. Okay, not completely but I’m not shipping real people anymore, so that’s something, right?!”

Lister is giving Jimmy a look of what I can only assume is pride for making a decent joke during a time of peak anxiety, Rowan has his head in his hands, probably contemplating his life choices now that Lister seems to be rubbing off on Jimmy, and Bliss still looks shocked that such a joke came out of Jimmy’s mouth, not Lister’s. When things calm down again, I check the time and speak up again.

“Well this has been fun Jim, but I’m afraid I have mad fangirl duties to be getting back to. Shrines to build, fanfiction to write, you know how it is.” I say sarcastically.

“Thanks again, Angel, for being here, and listening. And you’d better be right about that fandom drama.” Jimmy laughs again, although this time I see his smile falter a bit.

“Hey, look at me,” I say, moving as close to the screen as I can without squishing my face on it. “Things will settle down before you know it, in the meantime, we’re all here for you. You’re not alone in this.” Rowan and Bliss nod in agreement, and I see Lister hug Jimmy closer. Jimmy takes a breath and nods as well.

“Thanks Angel. And good luck with your exam. We’ll see you over the holidays.” He smiles.

“Yeah you got this Angel, go smash it!” Bliss chimes in, giving me a thumbs up and a grin. I say one last goodbye to them all, and hang up.

I look back down at my pizza, still uneaten. I need to stop letting myself get distracted during phone calls. I can eat and talk to my friends at the same time. I’m usually a master at it.

“Fereshteh!” I look up again. Either I’m going loony, or someone just said-

“FERESHTEH!” I turn around and see Mollie and Christina barrelling towards me, with the most excitement I’ve ever seen on a students’ face during exam season. They crash into my table and both start talking at once.

“Have you seen??”

“Did you know??”

“How long have they been together?!”

“Oh my god is this why you won’t tell us about what happened in Kent?!”

“Woah, easy on the interrogation! Seriously, you guys need to work on your interview skills.” I put my hands up in surrender and laugh. Mollie rolls her eyes at me.

“So? Did they tell you or what?” She asks again. I roll my eyes back at her.

“You know I don’t want to tell you guys anything about the boys. They trust me, and I’m not going to fuck that up because of some shit a tabloid prints.”

“How dare you appeal to our morality and ethics, we want gossip dammit!” Christina giggles, lightly banging her fist down on the table.

“Then stick to the Twitter pages.” I stick my tongue out at her. Mollie and Christina are two of my housemates, and are part of the Ark fandom. I never planned on telling them about Kent, but they figured out who I was thanks to the pictures of me and Jimmy on the train. I didn’t think you could tell it was me, but fangirls are like master detectives. They figured it out in less than a week. They haven’t told anyone though, they’re good mates.

“So how are you feeling about all of this? Whether you knew or not, having it out in the press like this is a lot to handle, especially after last time.” Mollie says, now in serious mode.

“It is a lot, definitely, but they’ll be fine. They’ve had this happen before and they know what to expect from the fans. I just wish I could be there for them.” I say, sitting back in my chair.

“I get

that, it must suck that you guys are so far apart now.” Christina chimes in.

“I mean it’s not like we ever lived close to each other before. The only reason we even crossed paths over the summer was because I was staying with a friend. But yeah, being away from them all is kind of hard sometimes.” I sigh dramatically, making Mollie and Christina grin.

“Are you going to visit them over Christmas?” Christina asks.

“I’m definitely going to visit my friend in London again, for a day or two, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to see the boys.” I quickly lie. “They cut back on public events but they’re still really busy most of the time. And this,” I gesture to my phone “definitely won’t help.”

“We’ll keep an eye on fandom updates for you, and try to shut any mentions of Jowan down,” Mollie says, reaching across the table and giving my hand a gentle squeeze. I squeeze hers back and give her a grateful smile. I mostly stopped interacting with the fandom after meeting the boys, reading fanfiction, and discussing theories with other fans just feels weird and creepy to do when the people you’re talking about are your friends. So it’s nice that I have Mollie and Christina looking out for them, and doing what I can’t. Christina has a pretty big following on Tumblr, and Mollie’s a Twitter ace, so I trust them to hold their ground with the fandom.

“Okay, you don’t have to give us any details, but genuinely, what do you think of Lister and Jimmy as a couple? Because I don’t think the fandom could handle a breakup.” Christina says after a while, making me laugh.

“Pfft, yeah I don’t think the boys could handle a breakup, either.” I smile. “But honestly? I think they’ll be good for each other. Lister is good at helping Jimmy relax and step out of his anxiety bubble, and Jimmy can help reign in Lister’s chaotic energy. Plus they’re freaking cute together, I mean just look at this picture!” I finish, gesturing dramatically to my phone again.

“They are so cute!” Mollie nods in agreement. “I’m actually shocked no one thought to ship them together before.”

“That’s the Jowan storm, for you,” Christina adds. “Can’t believe we ever shipped that.”

“So gross.” I shudder at the thought. Suddenly the alarm I’d set this morning went off, making us all jump.

“What’s that?” Mollie asks. I check the screen and practically leap out of my seat.

“Oh shit, my exam starts in 10 minutes!” I say, gathering my stuff up as quickly as I can. I say my goodbyes to Mollie and Christina and start running back across campus to the exam hall.

I make it just in time, much to the invigilator’s chagrin, check my bag in at the desk at the back of the hall, and collapse into my assigned seat. The exam starts, and it’s only when it does that my stomach reminds me that I never actually ate lunch. Shit.

I start to silently scold myself for being so stupid, when my mind starts drifting to the video chat with Jimmy and the others. He and Lister looked so comfortable with each other. Makes sense, they've known each other for so long. But even still, Jimmy looked so much happier once Lister sat down with him, and Lister himself practically seemed at home with Jimmy’s arms wrapped around him. I smile at my exam paper.

I’m so happy for them.

#osemanverse #i was born for this #iwbft #bicci #angel rahimi #jimmy kaga ricci #lister bird #juliet schwartz #bliss lai

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