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notanactressyayy · 2 months

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—𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭—

pairing . Natasha Romanoff x fem! reader

summary . she needs you, in multiple ways — she's just scared to ask for it.

warnings . smut — I am NOT responsible for the content you consume — thigh riding, scissoring, fingering, vulnerable sex (because yes), taking care of Nat because she deserves it.

notes . English is not my first language, I'm brazilian, so I apologize for any grammar mistakes. this is probably the first fic I ever post so hi hi!!!

(I'm sorry if this is bad, I literally wrote that in a waiting room, completely in a rush.)

divider credits: @cafekitsune ^^

You didn't know exactly why the TV was on. You weren't interested on the show, and Natasha wasn't even looking at it. Her eyes looked down as she fidgeted with her fingers. You could tell she was anxious, that something was bothering her.

You just never expected that this was something to do with you — no, you didn't do anything wrong. It was her.

Natasha and you met years ago, and had been in a situationship for a while now. You weren't friends, but somehow, you couldn't recall the time you started dating (because it never existed). Friends with benefits was too cliché, and maybe not enough to describe what you actually had with her.

To begin with it, you met Natasha when she was still an Avenger. You were never part of the team, but they treated you as if you were. You were close to everyone, but specially Natasha. There was a reason she had let that happen, since according to her, she was in New York to be a hero, and not to have friends.

Friends.

The moment the russian started to blush whenever Thor teased her about how close she was to you or when you simply stared at her for a few seconds or more was when she realized that she made a mistake. A good one, she hoped. In a heartbeat, she was telling you her story.

You listened — just, listened. Your hand went to brush her hair behind her ear whenever she looked down, and the sparkle of pride in your eyes was not something she could miss. You didn't pity her. You didn't try to bring up a justification for what she went through, or to bring up a solution to fix her. You were proud of her for who she became, and were there for her whenever she didn't want to be that person for a while.

It was with that trust in you that she found herself wanting, craving even, something more. She's human, wether she like it or not. She can't deny her feelings or urges, not even the most dangerous spy can.

So her walls broke when you said you were going with her to Norway after the Avengers split.

Natasha shifted a little in the couch, the blankets around her getting all crumpled as she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Your focus went from the soft patting of the raindrops in the window to the woman next to you, as you frowned a bit.

"Nat?" you called, leaning your side against the backrest of the couch and looking at her. "What's wrong?"

She turned to you, a little startled, but tried to shake it off with a small grin. "Oh, it's nothing. It's just a little hot in here."

"We're in Norway," you laughed, giving her that goddamn smile of yours. "And.. it's raining."

"The..." she shook her head, failing miserably to come up with an excuse. "The blankets are making me hot."

"Mhm, are they?" you raised an eyebrow, and pulled the blankets off you both, and letting half of them fall to the floor. "Better?"

Natasha shivered, but nodded nonetheless. You saw she was unquiet, and that this looked a little more serious than the normal.

"Natasha."

"Yeah?"

"What is going on?" you repeated your question, scooting closer to her and placing your hand above hers — just to make things worse.

Natasha almost whined at your action, which made you pull your hand back and frown even more. "I'm sorry,"

"No, it's not your fault." she shook her head. "It's mine."

"Then tell me." you smiled softly, lifting her head up to meet your eyes with your pointer finger. The sight of her green orbs was something you maybe never saw before.

"I..." she mumbled, clearing her throat. She then grabbed your hand and held your wrist gently, not sure of what to do next. "I don't know."

"It's okay," you whispered, bringing her hand up and placing a kiss on it. You had no problem with being affectionate and she didn't mind either, but today, it was different.

"Y/n". Natasha whispered back, looking into your eyes and getting lost in them. She was clearly unsure of what to do, and how to express what she was feeling. So she brought your hand up and placed your palm above her heart. Faster than the speed of light.

"Hey..." you cooed, tilting your head as you felt the aggressive beating against your hand. "You... are you, scared of something?"

"No." she quickly shook her head. She wasn't having any negative emotions right now. "I'm not anxious, I'm not scared.. I'm just.."

"Just what?"

The fact she was not having an anxious episode or a panic attack made you slightly relaxed, but not completely — then you realized, the touches you were giving her made her sensitive. She was needy.

The Red Room turned her into a closed person, and that didn't completely vanish when she was with you — it was like there was a bug in her system that had to be fixed, soon. She couldn't be totally open, but not completely closed.

You smiled at the thought, and leaned in closer, inches away from her face, which made her breathing uneven. "Tell me what you need, Nat."

"I..." she took a deep inhale and placed her hand on your cheek, pulling you into an unexpected kiss — a desperate one.

She kissed you frantically, her movements with urgency as she placed her hands behind your neck, trying to pull you close. You couldn't say you expected this, but it wasn't unwelcomed either.

Your hands went to her waist as she shyly crawled onto your lap, her legs hooking around your hips as she pulled away for air, her forehead against yours.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." she breathed, feeling her eyes start to burn with unleashed tears.

"You have absolutely nothing to apologize for." you murmured, arms gently wrapping around her as she straddled you. "It's okay, let's not rush things. Let's take deep breaths, mhm?"

The fact you wanted her to calm down before anything almost calmed her down instantly, but she breathed with you, then leaned her head on yours, her cheek on your hair.

"I just need something," she whispered, more calmly now. "I—I think I need you."

"And I'm here," you turned your head to press a kiss on her temple, caressing her back. The redhead melted.

Natasha leaned down to kiss your lips again, but not with urgency. She sighed softly against your lips, her hands moving to hold your face, and yours, to hold her waist. It didn't take long for her to start moving slowly — she shifted, instead of straddling your lap, her legs were around your thigh. Your eyes opened, and you broke the kiss to look at her.

"Nat, my love," you whispered. "Are you sure of this?"

"Please." she uttered back, closing her eyes and gripping your shoulders. "I know you'd ever hurt me.. you would never disrespect me, you would stop if I asked you to. Right... right?"

You smiled sadly, realizing she was trying to reassure herself, and not actually ask you this. "Yes, yes, Natasha. I want to take care of you. I want to see you, beyond that shell they turned you in. I want you to feel comfortable enough with me to ask for this, and this is such a big step for you."

She sighed in relief, hearing the honesty in your voice. She nodded, clearing her throat. She leaned down, hiding her face on the crook of her neck and pressing small, gentle kisses on it. Then her hips started to slowly move, and the tiniest bit of friction made her gasp. "Y/n..."

"Shh," you held her hips, guiding her through her own pace. The little high waisted shorts she wore rolled up, so surprisingly thick that you could feel her wetness. "That's great, Natty. Move yourself for me, like this."

Natasha whined at your words, starting to grind against you slightly faster. The clothes were starting to feel uncomfortable, as she felt the need of you seeing her. She grabbed your hands, and slowly moved them underneath her blouse.

You did what she wanted, grazing your fingernails against her skin and slowly massaging her flesh, resulting in a soft moan of hers. "Take it off." You looked at her with a questioning look, even if you had an idea of what she was asking for. "Undress me, Y/n."

Given her permission, you smoothly lifted her blouse and pulled it over her head, letting it fall to the floor. She stopped her movements briefly, just so you could slide her shorts and panties down her thighs, her heat now in contact with your leg making you groan.

She felt your hands moving up to unclasp her bra and smirked softly, holding her arms out so you could take down the straps. That woman was surely breathtaking, her body, her marks, her scars, her voice, her everything.

"Natty," you uttered, pressing kisses in the valley between her breasts and moving up, to her ear. "There's so much I wanna do with you..."

Natasha closed her eyes, your touch making her shiver again, as she began to fastly grind her pussy against your thigh. "Please." she quickly removed your shirt and soon enough, you both were completely naked.

The feeling of skin against hers, the human touch that she never felt when getting off with a strap while thinking of you was unbelievable, a touch that she knew that wouldn't hurt her. It was so good, so different from the men she seduced when a spy, so different from the men that touched her in the Red Room.

"My pretty girl," you hissed, throwing your leg above hers and starting to grind yourself with her. "So beautiful, and all mine."

"Yes," she panted, burying her face in your neck again as her nails lightly scratched your back. "Y/n, please."

"You're coming with me." you sweetly commanded. Natasha started to whisper things in Russian that you couldn't really understand, but you took it as a sign that she was close.

Soon enough, Natasha's legs started to shake and her moans on your ear got slightly louder, you both coming together, her juices mixing with yours. She didn't stop, though. You gasped, looking up at her. She still needed more.

"Touch me." Natasha growled, grabbing your hand and moving it close to her cunt. She was starting to feel confident, and you liked it.

You didn't think twice before burying your middle and pointer fingers on her hole, using your thumb to slowly rub circles on her clit, biting your lip at the sight of her back arched. All for you.

"God, Y/n," she moaned, using her own hands to squeeze her breasts and circle her hard nipples. "Yes, just like that."

"You like it like this?" you asked, shoving one more finger inside her, her moans getting louder. She slowly started to lift herself from your fingers, just to lower her hips again, riding your fingers. "You're gonna come for me again?"

"Yes!" she nodded frantically, her breaths coming in little gasps for air. She gripped your shoulders tightly, throwing her head back and orgasming again. It took a while for her to calm down, and you didn't waste time before gently taking her and laying her down on the couch, spreading her legs and pressing soft kisses on her inner thighs, licking her juices and making her squirm around.

"Y/n," she murmured quietly, reaching her arms out.

"Oh, baby." you pulled Nat into an embrace, holding her close to your chest and caressing her hair, running your fingers through her red locks. "It's alright."

Natasha whimpered, wanting to hide herself in your arms and never come out again. She closed her eyes and laid her head on your chest, arms circling your waist.

The talk about this could wait. The silence was comfortable enough for now.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff soft smut #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff smut #marvel incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #natasha marvel #marvel #Spotify

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fuckyeahisawthat · 9 months

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I think Crowley falls into two of the classic pitfalls of people who see that the problems are systemic long before anyone else around them does: impatience and despair.

(Yes yes I know, “Crowley was an optimist.” Book Crowley is an optimist. I don’t think that line is particularly useful for analyzing TV Crowley. Stay with me here.)

Let it be said that 95% of the time, Crowley has the patience of a fucking saint (ssh don’t tell him) around Aziraphale. He knows that Aziraphale needs to build his little plausible deniability rationales in order to do something that they both know he wants to do (because it’s right or simply because he would enjoy it) but Heaven wouldn’t approve of. And most of the time, Crowley is happy to help Aziraphale get there, asking the questions Aziraphale is afraid to ask, offering excuses and justifications until Aziraphale finds one he can accept. He does a lot of work of parsing out when “no” means “you haven’t convinced me yet, keep trying” and pushing through all the “I’m an angel, you’re a demon, we’re on opposite sides and mine is the good one” talk that Aziraphale gets up to all the way through s1. Because he knows that Aziraphale doesn’t really believe that stuff, right? He just needs some time to talk himself around his own cognitive dissonance, and most of the time Crowley is not only happy to facilitate that but sees it as part of his role in their relationship.

But then when the chips are down and Aziraphale is still dithering, that’s when he gets frustrated, because HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE what’s been blindingly obvious to Crowley for millennia, that Heaven is just as cruel as Hell and no one is going to step in and fix it because the system is working as intended. And that’s when he says things like “how can someone as clever as you be so stupid?” Which is a surefire way not to convince the person you’re arguing with of anything.

And then there’s the despair. I really think the running away thing is not about cowardice or selfishness or some kind of unhealthy level of avoidance of hard or scary things, but about hopelessness. They’ve spent their lives avoiding very very real danger, and of the two of them Crowley is much more constantly aware of the danger that they are in from both sides. Yes he’s hypervigilant but he is also almost always right about the amount of danger they are in. Trying to get as far away from danger as possible is not an irrational response, even if it’s not always the correct one for a given situation.

When you feel like you’re the only person who sees how rotten the system is, how it needs to be dismantled entirely, but you are also VERY aware of how strong the people in power are and how ruthless they are about crushing dissent because you experienced it personally…well that gets fucking depressing after a while. Because even if you think the whole system needs to go, that feels like a completely unattainable goal when it seems like no one else even sees the problem, or if they see it, they are too afraid to do anything about it. And can you blame them? You know exactly what happens to people who speak up.

So it’s very easy for your goals to shrink from systemic change to just taking yourself and the people you love and finding somewhere for them to be as safe as possible, for as long as the system will let you exist. Because reforming the system is a fool’s errand, and dismantling it entirely seems impossible. I think this is where Crowley is at. Even if on some level he knows it’s an imperfect solution, because both of them have enough compassion that they would feel guilty abandoning Earth and humans to save themselves, and because Heaven and Hell really can find them anywhere in the universe. He just doesn’t see another option.

And look, I think Aziraphale is 100% wrong that Heaven can be reformed. But he is not wrong to want to stay and fight to make things better, even if it means sacrificing the Earthly comforts he loves so much, and even if it means doing it without Crowley by his side.

Ultimately they both need each other. Aziraphale needs Crowley for his willingness to ask questions and to see the scale of the problem, even if it’s terrifying. But Crowley needs Aziraphale for his hope, his stubborn determination to believe things can and should be better, and to fight for that. In the right hands, hope is an enormously powerful weapon.

#good omens #good omens s2 #crowley #my good omens meta

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bi-writes · 2 months

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ex-tf141!mercenary!fem!reader x ex-husband!simon because there's nothing hotter than being covered in blood and debating whether or not to kill him or fuck him (18+) ⚠️🔞

cw: reader is curvy (deal with it), mature language and content, suggestive language and content, dramatization + graphic depictions of murder + violence, criticizes military service, blood kink, size kink (simon's huge ok), pet names (luv, sweetheart, baby, honey), mw3 spoilers, reader is unhinged and unapologetic about it, dark content ahead, unprotected piv, cumplay, (can this also be considered a throuple fic? maybe...)

this isn't her. he doesn't recognize her. she doesn't fight the way he remembers, she doesn't look like she used to.

she wears all black. the black cargo pants are tight around her perfect thighs, and the way they cinch around her waist makes his mouth water. her vest covers her torso, but he has vivid memories of ripping an identical one off of her, ripping the fabric of her shirt so he could bury his mouth between her tits.

when she used to be his. when she used to be a good girl.

he watches, frozen, as she shows off her newfound ruthlessness. she fires her weapon at one man's knees, bringing him to the ground. he feels sick when she kicks him onto his back, getting on top of him, and uses her tactical knife and shoves it into the softness of his neck. she leans over him, splatters of blood freckled across her face, and she watches the life leave his eyes.

she doesn't get up until he stops twitching.

he doesn't remember this. when she used to watch his six, he remembers having to hold her close at night, quieting her cries. he remembers the conversations they used to have, where she used to tell him that whenever she closes her eyes, she sees every person she ever killed.

the justification of murder behind the patches she wore on her vest had never been enough to quiet her nightmares. she was always so soft-hearted. she was always too good, too considerate, too kind. it was something her superiors always wanted to rip away from her; it was something simon fought hard to keep.

he had lost his humanity, but she had not, and he remembers smoothing his hand over her chest and across her heart, telling himself that he would never let it go, never let her lose it.

it is gone. he knows it--he knows it because she doesn't just kill her opponents, she tortures them. she aims for vulnerable places, and then she kills them angrily. she likes to hear them scream. she watches them cry. she wipes the blood of her enemies on her thigh, and then she gets up and does it all over again, in different ways, in heinous ways. she's terrifying, and she's laughing, and there is nothing behind those fucking eyes.

he holds her in his sight. he adjusts the scope, gripping the rifle tighter, and suddenly it feels too heavy in his hands. he can see her in it, and he watches in horror.

he knows his orders. permission to kill on sight, those are his orders--mercenaries had gotten the same intel as them, but they are not here to destroy the biochemical weapons. they are here to steal them.

he can kill her right now. he has her, right where he wants her, and even from this far away, he knows he won't miss.

when she's finally alone, she stands, and she looks up, turning in a slow circle. his heart squeezes--she knows he's here. she holds up a hand, four fingers held up. he reaches up to his radio and turns the knob to the right channel. it crackles, and then he hears her voice.

"hey, baby," you coo, and he sees you smile, and it's ugly, and he hates it. "you miss me that much that you gotta follow me around at work?"

"'f y'know wot's good for you, you'll pack up your shit and leave."

you tsk, spinning the knife around in your hand before sticking it back into your boot. you wipe the sweat from your forehead, and blood smears along your brow.

"awww, teddy bear, don't be that way," you pout. "how about you come down here?" you grin wide, turning just his way, giggling when you see him perched for overwatch. "hmm? you're just cranky, baby...need me to help you relax..."

"you're right fuckin' mad," he spits, and you reach down at the man beneath you, snatching his rifle off his back and making sure it's loaded. "and i'm gonna fuckin' kill you."

you wink up at him.

"yeah? so take the shot, honey," you challenge. the smirk that blooms on your face infuriates him. he hates you. but then you turn around and keep walking, knowing that he won't shoot, and his gaze follows the sway of your hips. instead of thinking about your brains splattered against gravel, he thinks about when he used to bend you over his bed in the barracks and eat your pussy from behind you--when he used to get on his knees and fuck you with his tongue and make you cum into his mouth.

when you disappear from his view, you laugh over comms. "you're pathetic, simon," your murmur. "could never trust you to get the fucking job done."

he remembers when you left. johnny had left a scar on you--an angry one, one that refused to heal. and while simon was equally as buried in his grief, he always felt just a little better when he was kissing you, holding you, feeling the warmth of you, knowing you were alive.

"you didn't love him. not like i did--" you snap, continuing to pack.

"are you fuckin' mad?! do y'hear yourself talk?! wot the fuck do you know about me and johnny?!"

"then how are you not angry?!" you scream. "how are still standing there, so fucking normal, how are you so fucking calm?!"

"sweetheart--"

"don't fucking touch me," you bite. "you don't get it--" angry tears flow easily down your face. "--you didn't love him the same."

"i did--" he grips your face, making you look at him. "i loved him like i love you, don't say that. don't fucking say that, don't you dare pretend you're the only one that feels anything--"

you rip his hands off of you, narrowing your eyes, and he does not recognize you. this is not you.

"y-you're a liar," you whisper. "you're a fucking liar. and you make me sick."

ghost steps over the bodies that you left behind. it is a massacre of men that you leave at your feet. slit throats, bullets in knees, in stomachs, little finishers you leave between their legs. you are not a fan of men--he knows this because of how hard it had been to get close to you. how difficult it had been to even so much as touch your arm, your face--to get you into his bed, to marry you in secret and fuck you spineless. the only easy thing that had ever happened to you was the way johnny fell right into step with you.

and the hardest thing that he had ever done was fucking die.

when he finds the trunk of biochemical vials, you are not there. he has found it first, and he bends down to inspect them, closing the lid and securing them inside before moving his hand up to press on the button of his comms to alert his team.

"uh uh uh," a low voice warns. "take your hand off the radio, sweetheart."

he moves, but the bloodied tip of a tactical knife is sharp against his throat, and he swallows hard. he calls your name, and you just giggle. this is a game to you. he lowers his hand, and you reach down, grabbing his rifle and tossing it. you also unholstered his handgun and the throwing knives from his boot, throwing them behind you.

"mmm..." you smooth a hand down his back. "you're as hot as the day i met you, baby..."

ghost grunts as you grip one side of his ass, and you grip his shoulder tight, kicking him just right so he was kneeling on both knees now. you lean over him and plant a warm, wet kiss to the jaw of his mask, moving so you were standing in front of him now. you kick the trunk of vials to the side, looking down at him, digging the sharp edge of the blade harder against his neck.

"look at you..." you hum, licking your bottom lip. "you're still so big, teddy bear..." he hisses when you lean over, cupping him through his pants. your warm hand squeeze the length of him, and you whine when you feel how hard he is, how much he still feels for you. he glares at you under that plastic, terrifying mask, but your panties are soaking. "so fucking hard for me, too...you miss me, baby?"

he leans over, into the blade, growling.

"'f you leave now, you can still take your life with ya."

you pucker your lips, and he snarls. your face is not one he knows--you have drying blood along your cheeks, smears of it along the softness of your neck. you have blood and dirt under your fingernails, and there is fire in your eyes, and you are not the good girl he fell in love with, but you look like her, and it scares him.

"awww, baby, if i thought you would kill me, you would be dead--" you lean forward and lick along his hard jaw, tasting the salt and sweat of his mask. "...right along your other boys. don't lie to me. it's not a good look for you."

he bites, and you laugh, and then you nod your head.

"sit down," you demand, and he sits. he is big, and his gear is heavy, and he sits with a grunt, and you climb over him, into his lap. you reach down, your eyes on his, and you unzip his cargo pants, your hand slipping under and pulling his cock out, and you smile when it stands hard and heavy. "oh, baby...you want this, don't you?"

you lean in, kissing him through the mask, sucking along the fabric and whining.

"you want this, don't you? you still want me? you still love me?"

"fuckin' hell--"

"you wanna fuck me, teddy bear?" you spit into the palm of your hand, reaching down and smoothing your wet hand over the red tip of him. "you're so big...as big as i remember..." you whimper. "say you wanna fuck me, simon--" fuck, you're using his name, "--say you want me."

against your lips, you feel him whisper yes--fuck--yes, luv--and you can't help it. you can't help yourself.

he's so warm and big. you hold onto his shoulders, still gripping the bloody knife, and you sink down on him. it's easy though, because you're soaking, and even though you're so fucking tight, you suck him in, right until your clit is grinding against the little hairs at the base of his cock and you're bouncing in his lap.

simon is weak. he's weak, and he knows it, because he loves you, and your pussy is so tight, and your moans are music, and fucking you is the only thing he truly understands, the only thing that still makes sense.

you smooth your hands along the back of his neck, and when you whimper and moan, simon thinks he sees you. his good girl, his pretty little wife, the soft girl that he loves, the one crying as she rides his cock because he's hitting all the gooey, pretty places inside of her that make her so fucking wet. he grips your ass tight, guiding you up and down, fucking up into you as he feels his stomach turn and his balls tighten.

"simon--" you cry, and he nods his head, cradling you to his chest, his head tilted back as he looks up at you. there is blood on your skin and a knife digging into his back, but you're saying his name, and his heart aches, and your pussy is so good-- "gonna come--gonna come--"

"yeah--" he growls, and you push up his mask, lick into his mouth, kiss him sloppy and hard and desperate. "fuck--fuck, yeah--"

he takes off his glove to touch you, two big fingers on your clit as you fuck him desperately. when you come, you soak his cock, and when you tighten, he comes, too, rolling his hips as he spills out of your tight hole and onto your thighs, onto his.

it feels so good. it feels so good to be full of him, to feel him deep, and you smooth your hands down your stomach, feeling him there, stretching you so wide with his come on your thighs, and when he pulls out, you giggle when he gathers the slick onto his fingers and feeds it to you.

you suck his fingers, tasting him, and you whine, looking right into his dark eyes. your heart hurts for a moment--but only a moment. when he pulls his fingers from your mouth, your eyes flicker.

because he still wears his fucking wedding ring.

at the sight of it, you grip your knife tight, and you sink it right into his stomach.

he is laying there in a pool of blood when you're dressed, when the trunk of vials is secure for you to take. you lean over him, pressing on the button of his radio, and you call for medevac to his team, and then you rip the radio in two.

you cup his cheeks, kissing him softly over the mask, and you smooth a finger down his cheek.

"don't pull the knife out, baby, or you'll bleed out," you coo. you tilt your head to the side, knowing you only have a few second window to leave, and you smile down at him.

"until next time, simon."

when you go, you take a piece of him with you.

and fuck--fuck you. because he wants it back.

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samodivaa · 8 months

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Training Techniques

Winter Soldier x Reader He is not allowed to move an inch—he can only watch you pleasure yourself—but why is there a ring on your finger?

Warnings - smut, light angst, mastrubation(f), rough sex, choking, breeding kink Words - 2600 ⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ You have absolutely no pleasure in the work in which you sometimes so madly indulge—training the assets with delicacy of words with which their handlers don’t approve of—Soldat is your favorite, with his expression of endless and unconditional gratitude and a silent promise of complicity unto death—he may not remember your face, but he always remembers your voice, its' gentleness. The soporific air of your room, in the soft breath of bread and sweets—he was sent there, because he was misbehaving again.

It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that you have periled this life and reputation—but here you are—on your bed trying to sleep when you see him sitting on the chair, waiting. And this isn't a romance. You're not a damsel in distress and he is not the handsome prince who comes to save you—this is his desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of the impending doom, but they didn’t know that.

You know.

He can't stop looking at you—Soldat is gazing at a distant star. It's dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago, because he is not allowed to move until you instruct him to.

Subconsciously, he licks his lips at the sight at your body in a night dress and wonder if he will ever just cum in your mouth as you suck him off to your knees…or if he’ll take you by the hair before he’s finished and fuck you into a sobbing heap before blowing his load. It doesn’t seem worth the risk —but he wanted this for so long now, he needs to voice it.

“Please-” —an irrational and indulgent mistake. you stand up on your elbows in shock at the word he utters—his eyes drift leisurely back up to your face and his lips twitch. Soldat has fallen into a state of feverish lust, but that is not a justification for his disobedience. His heart goes into a shameless delirium when your eyes meet. “Desperate?” you mock, but underneath the mockery Soldat finds a reservoir of understanding. You lay back on the bed as nothing has happened, and your voice takes on a restful strength “I still need to punish you for that, Winter” He behaves as naturally, with such discretion, that he does not lose his composure, not even when you remove your wedding ring—who committed the impertinence of marrying you? He goes through a crisis of disappointment, fury, jealousy, but this is your way of giving Soldat a layer of respect—he wants to call it loyalty. And maybe you can be his or maybe you will be entwined in this sexless foreplay tonight.

He wants to ask so many questions, but he can’t. Not now. There is a pent-up curiosity, hysteria of his unsatisfied needs, unnaturally suppressed communion and also a kind of tense respect, because if he is obedient enough—he will be rewarded.

“You will watch me, that's all you will do for now” you say, your voice has sunk to a whisper. Your words stoke a warmness in his stomach, a fire in his crotch. And he doesn’t care what you will do with him—even if you want to cut him, sharpen him however you please—that's all he knows anyways. He wants this memory to stay what it is, one intense moment, something that is strong and sweet enough to stand on its own. Your room has turned into an idyllic paradise for a good many years, your skin glistening in the light coming from the slits in the blinds as your hands play with your breast through the nightgown. He has lost his voice and a thread of cold sweat runs down the path of his spine, suffocating with heat, because of the black leather clothes—the stiff collar and the tight harness that is restricting his breathing, is becoming increasingly annoying.

His eyes are growing moist with indignation, with angry impotence, and for the first time, he is barely controlling himself. It is the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning—he needs to be patient, but it’s hard—not harder than his cock—It's more erotic, more intense to watch you touch yourself. He is master of what he does, but never of what he desires. You are greatly overestimating his self-control. But this is what you are testing tonight—his ability to subordinate the impulse to fuck you. Self-control might be as passionate and as active as the surrender to passion, but you need to show him who is in charge while your panties are becoming steadily slicker. All you need to do is to tell him to come, but you refrain from doing the thing you want so badly—to be consumed by Winter. You glance up to find his eyes blazing with raw need—blue orbits pleading for you to command him. You spread your legs open, positioning yourself in front of him—one hand still toying with your nipple while the fingers of the other hook in your panties and drag them down your legs slowly before throwing them in his direction. His breath stutters as they land on his left boot and Soldat eyes them wickedly, knowing that all he can do is watch.

"Good, very good, Soldat '' you coo, sliding two fingers into your core, scissoring and stretching, curling over the one sweet spot—imagining his metal digits. You remove them as your index finger takes their place, rubbing slow, torturous circles on your clit, sliding down to tease your opening, then back up. Over and over again.

He slides his tongue across his teeth, remembering the taste of your nectar, becoming more and more aroused with every beat of his heart that runs down his shaft.

“I want you so much, gosh” he is stirred by the lust in your smooth voice. You are breathing deep with your mouth wide open—he doesn’t blink, he doesn’t dare blink. Soldat can swear he feels the pressure of your palms on his cheeks—or is it a memory? Everything is a memory to him. “I want you here, fucking me” There is something raw and pleading in your voice that surpasses sexual desire, these fleeting moments of carnal craving.

With the auspicious attention of a strained killing machine, he examines your fingers, your shivering body and listens to your muffled moans meticulously. It is such a tumultuous and intemperate invasion to his mind—your scandalous behavior is pulling at every string of his nerves and self-control.

It is such a prolonged act, so meticulous, so rich in all aspects as you are giving yourself over to the deserved adoration of your own body and pleasure. It leaves Soldat breathless at the tremendous spectacle of your nudity and lack of shame as you bring yourself closer to the edge.

“Jesus-I am so close” You confess, surprised at how fast the arousal is budding. You arch your back and hips buckle like an electric current runs through your body, moaning, rubbing your clit faster, forcing yourself to let out a louder moan. The orgasm wrecks your body from head to toe and being watched by a ferocious male is exciting—all he needs is a feeling as primitive and as simple as that of love.

You see his eyes, still unblinking and you feel menaced by some invisible danger—you are keenly aware of every movement, every breath you take. Lust is a weed that grows in the vacant lots of an abandoned mind and the stacks of bad words that you have been forced to swallow, spills “Soldat, come here” you command, languid and serious.

You lick your lips, trying to quench the thirst for him. Your throat is dry as you watch him between your spread legs, getting up and slowly coming towards the bed as his thick, black pants fall to the floor around his feet, the belt clattering noisily. Winter craws on top of you and he cannot articulate a word, capable only of an animal sound, a strangulated wheeze that shocks him deeply, enraging him, this sudden loss of the faculty of speech that feels somehow bestial and forgotten. He breathes, his chest rising and falling so close to yours.

“Kiss m-” you whisper the words, and before you even finish saying them, his mouth is on yours and you are melting under his lips, eyes flutter shut—and it is blissful oblivion—giving you the most intense and explosive kiss you two have ever shared. With the coldness of his lips and the warmth of his tongue beneath yours, you vow an endless bliss. He pulls back with a groan—Winter’s sky-blue eyes stare back into yours, and in his eyes you can see no parting from you. You put your hands on either side of his face, and the room falls away. You have never gotten so lost in a kiss before. And the kiss is not gentle. It is a wrestle of who would lead the excursion into the territory of passion and ecstasy, heat and unending craving for one another. You suck on his lower lip between your teeth and he lets out a low groan. It sounds almost aggravated and definitely impatient. Fire looks into his quiet eyes, touches his dear, familiar face—you lean upwards for a moment and dip your head towards his ear, grazing his soft skin with your teeth, while your hand slides to the harness. Soldat stills, angling his mouth towards your bare, perfect neck. You feel a warm slickness on your skin, his tongue trailing a path towards your shoulder.

It is a wild, animalistic compulsion, an urgent need as he suddenly slots himself between your legs and you turn your head away. Your fear is returning, crawling through your limbs and leaving you numb to everything. You shut your eyes, gripping the sheets, and whimper when he pushes himself inside you. He releases a ragged breath before moving, slow but with purpose, and you simply take it with soft whimpers and gasps as he pumps in and out of you, now starting to set a steady pace. His eyes, the blue completely gone from his them, soften for a moment and he kisses you tenderly before he whispers in your ear, his breath puffs against your skin. He spends a good amount of time on your neck, a brief stop at the base of your throat—he wants to bite you, but he can’t—something melts inside Soldat that hurts in an exquisite way—you are not his. “Who did you marry, Snow White?” He asks, voice throbbing with menace—before slipping inside you again and burying himself to the hilt. Sex with you this time is different, he has never felt this dominant, this claiming. He is so far in that his balls are right against your lips. You arch your back and moan “It doesn’t matter” as he slides back out nearly all the way before slamming into you hard and fast. You wrap your legs around his waist as he slams into you over and over, the only sound in the room is the skin slapping. You close your eyes and swallow. Your mouth parts and stills—your voice is barely a whisper as his tip touches your cervix. “Pierce…I am closer to ruining his plans, closer to freeing you” Despite your eyelids being tightly shut, a single, hot tear runs out of your eye. You are so angry that it has escaped—so angry—he stops his trusts completely. You moan as you feel his movement out of you. Then, as he almost has the tip fully out, he slaps it back in. When your eyes meet his gaze as you are sitting here staring at each other, time stops. Your fingertips reach to trace the metal shoulder, but he grasps your hand with his own. He leans down, far enough that the ends of his hair brush feather-light against your face, catching in your lashes and tears.

His breath, warm and measured, hits your cheek. Two breaths. Three. Then you stop breathing, and a second later, you feel his lips on your mouth. It is hungry, desperate. His metal hand wraps around your neck, thumb presses into the skin—you moan, it ripples over your nerve endings. His breath caresses your ear again—his grip on your neck tightens. And this makes you always still and submit…the act of Winter taking shameful, contemptuous possession of you is the kind of rapture you want.

“Next time-” you try, but with your restricted of oxygen brain, you are not able to. He tastes passion. He tastes lust. He tastes his power over you. He tastes a world of stimulants he’d never imagined. You are right there in front of him, he can do whatever he wants. Winter loosens his hold—only to observe you as you breathe raggedly, sliding down slowly, a moan ripping from your throat.

“Next time he calls you in his house, I will be there, too”

I have nothing to give but my heart so full and these empty hands.

“I need to kill them one by one, Winter” His mouth curves into a smile—his eyes are light blue and dancing with life. He pauses for only a fraction of a second. Then he leans forward and presses his lips to yours "Okay, yeah, yeah" a devil-soft whisper. He blinks several times like he is trying to comprehend your plan word by word. His trusts become so hormonal—you want his roughness. His other hand slips to your waist, pushing you into the mattress as he fucks you. For him, sex intimately relates to the most primitive kind of human contact, which can satisfy all of his needs he has been deprived from. "Winter " you gaspe breathlessly "Slow down" You try to let out a choked squeal, but his metal hand tightens around your neck again, muffling any sounds, your toes curling as he brings you steadily closer and closer to orgasm, reeling from the thrill and the fear from both his forceful thrusts of his powerful hips and the choking. Soldat is unrelenting in his domination of your body. But you are his at this moment, your cunt clenching around him while you mewls and grunts fill his ears, he can’t slow down even one bit. Logic would say that this is insane, every other fibre of his being says it's right—he has to fill you up. You can't move. You can't breathe. And his pace. And the adrenaline. “I will cum inside—dear Snow White” This is his demarcation line, all of a sudden it seems unfair to withhold it from you. Your inner muscles tighten as waves of pleasure start to build and ripple out. You don’t normally get off this fast, but you are lost in the exquisite sensations—you put your hands on his metal arm as your body bursts into flames, your fingers curling into the metal. You can’t make a sound and it is a shame, because it is the best orgasm you ever had. It is unbearable, unreal, unimaginable—it is too much as your eyes can only see darkness due to the choking. You can only hear a broken and hoarse cry escaping his lips, his warm come filling you up completely.

You can hear his breath, as your vision slowly becomes solid—a stray lock of dark hair falls into his eyes as he is looking down—he moves his hips back and then into you again, enjoying his cock being in a tub of cum, swimming in your honey.

#I WAS POSSESSED #but this is real #metal arm kink fr #winter soldier x you #winter soldier smut #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier fic #winter soldier fanfiction #smut #slight angst #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel x reader #bucky barnes imagine

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inamindfarfaraway · 8 months

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I love how Paul's character in The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals is defined entirely by a lack of desire, or desire defined only as 'not what I don't want'. "What Do You Want, Paul?" is a big joke about what a terrible narrative protagonist he is. But it's deeper than that. Throughout the show, even in the smallest, most insignificant phrasing, this man only ever expresses wants in these negative forms, as if he's incapable of feeling attraction in itself rather than simply avoiding what he dislikes. And only avoiding! He never says that he hates anything, either! That would give him passion, drive, perhaps the goal of actively removing that thing. No, he exclusively uses the verb hate in past tense.

He doesn't like musicals, singing, dancing or public performances. He makes this very clear, to the point that it's one of his most significant character traits. At no point does he ever talk about liking any media.

He doesn't want to do social activities.

He doesn't want to give away his money. About both this and the above, he can provide no logical explanation or moral justification. He just doesn't feel like them.

He always gets black coffee because it has "no cream, no sugar, nothing in it"; that is to say, he might not necessarily love it, merely prefer it over its sweeter or more complex alternatives.

He doesn't believe that Emma should have to sing and dance at work - he doesn't want her life to be so unfair and annoying to the both of them.

He doesn't want to obstruct the workings of his office (saying "that's the last thing I want" triggers "What Do You Want, Paul?").

He says, "I wanna go home!" when Mr Davidson is singing at him, but means that he wants to be somewhere safe and not stuck in this incredibly uncomfortable situation.

He doesn't want to die.

He specifically doesn't want to die in Clivesdale, because fuck Clivesdale.

He doesn't want to join the Hive.

He doesn't want to leave Hatchetfield, even when it's the site of an alien invasion that is his personal worst nightmare. He actually says that "All things considered, I like Hatchetfield", arguably an exception to the standard. However, he's also well aware of the town's flaws and problems. He grew up one of its poorer residents, attending the inferior, underfunded Sycamore High School where he casually admits the students "hated [themselves]" and having to watch its more respectable rival Hatchetfield High's school play. He has no strong investment in his tedious middle-class office job. He doesn't get along with some of his fellow townsfolk, like his coworker Ted and all the employees of Beanies except Emma. He awkwardly evades giving to charity and the homeless every morning on his way to work. His life is decidedly not one of utter bliss, and yet it's good enough for him in that he doesn't have the energy, ambition or imagination to want anything more. Since he's "been here [his] whole life", his affection for his hometown could be more an aversion to everywhere else or the hassle of travelling. Sticking with the devil he intimately knows.

He doesn't think badly of Emma, and says so because he doesn't want her to or believe that he does after learning that she helped make a "hated" experience of his happen.

He doesn't want to let Bill die, which is why he goes with Bill to rescue Alice. His heroism and proactiveness at the turning point of the end of Act One start to notably erode his apathy, but his phrasing reaffirms his negative motivations: "Hey, it's not like you're asking me to go see Mama Mia!", "Emma, there comes a time in every man's life when he has to draw a line in the sand. And I will never be in a fucking musical."

He doesn’t want Bill to blame himself for Alice's endangerment, stay in the area once Alice is revealed to be a vessel of the Hive or kill himself.

He doesn't want to do some light reading on the universal truth of love and the strength of the human heart.

He has no positive motivation. He breaks one of the most basic rules of being a fictional character, let alone the main character the audience is supposed to root for. He isn't just an antihero, he's an anti-protagonist. Although this could easily make him boring or unsympathetic, he manages to seem relatable. Real. Human. He captures so genuinely an ordinary person living an ordinary life suddenly trapped in a horror story. How many of can honestly articulate "one concrete goal that motivates all [our] actions"? Even if you can, you wouldn't undergo a narratively fulfilling and thematically cohesive arc related to that desire the way a fictional character would. We're all essentially just trying to survive each day. To make or keep our lives however we define 'good enough'. We may not have a crystal clear picture of our ideal life, but I bet we all have a long list of things we don't want in it. We're all Paul.

What more appropriate antagonist for this man to face, then, than a force that exists to strip people of their autonomy, their individuality, their personhood, and force them to play archetypical characters in a conventional narrative? The Hive observes that Paul is an anti-protagonist and takes offence to this. It seeks to convert him into his antithesis, the "bold" "leading man" of its musical who the audience can "sympathize with". The Infected highlight this in the opening song, in which they eagerly anticipate and prepare the audience for his entrance... and he misses his cue. He isn't following their script. Perhaps that's why the audience is able to believe in this average, unassuming antihero's potential to succeed, to defeat the Hive or at the very least escape it, despite how fraught and grim the situation becomes. The story certainly proves itself to be cruel to its characters; but Paul doesn't operate like a normal character. The Hive promises to fulfil people's desires and make them happy throughout the play. Charlotte, Bill, Hidgens and Ted's deaths are connected to, either in direct causality or thematic relevance, their respective desires for Sam's love, Alice's safety, world peace (and the glory of a musical career) and Ted's own survival. Paul is uniquely immune to this pattern of death related to a core motivation.

Until:

"I can't leave without Emma”, “a friend of mine."

"Is there a chance of something more?"

"I think so. I'd like there to be. I want there to be."

He wants Emma, her life and her happiness and maybe, just maybe, her love. He wants to love her. To spend time with her. For the first time ever, he wants more out of life, not less. He's a little bit more of a character. After the Infected reprise the "Did you hear the word?" section of the opening song, building up to his appearance, this time he does enter the theatre, coming down the aisle just as he was meant to. Right on cue. Paul is now vulnerable to the narrative - the Hive's narrative. And the Hive's control.

Still he resists, even while doubting if he was ever really happy before. Not only does he use his final words, fittingly, to declare that he doesn't like musicals, but before that he firmly refutes the Hive, and the philosophy behind it and all the pressures and temptatations it might represent: "It doesn't matter what I want." What matters is the good of the world. Emma. Love. Hope. Freedom. Integrity. Humanity, which must be wonderful if we can make sacrifices like this for all the right reasons.

Rest in peace, Paul Matthews. You were the opposite of a conventional protagonist, but a true hero.

#paul matthews #the guy who didn't like musicals #tgwdlm #hatchetfield #tgwdlm hive #hatchetfield meta #tgwdlm meta #tgwdlm analysis #analysis

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mxchxelschmidt · 6 months

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Hi! Hope ur doing well!🫶

Could you do something where he’s stressed out and snaps at yn but then he makes up for it?:)

Stressed Mike! Snapping at the reader. This ended up being 100% domestic fluff bullshit and I’m here for it honestly. Hope you enjoy anon! Hope you have a good night.

At this point you two didn’t even remember why the argument started. Well, Mike didn’t, you did. It had been an hour and a half and Abby was hopefully fast asleep in her room instead of pressed up against her door listening to you two bicker not unlike a married couple.

He was stressed about finances and the new clubs that Abby wanted to join and the money it would cost to have her in those clubs. You saw an opportunity to help so you told him that you would take care of it. He didn’t seem to like that option so he was fighting it with everything in him trying to keep you from making the decision to help out.

You two had been living together for some time now. You already helped with bills and rent which had been a weight off of Mike's shoulders so you didn’t understand why he was fighting this so hard.

“Mike, I can help out with this. I want her to be happy just as much as you do, and if getting her into these clubs will make her happy then so be it.” You say settling down on the couch hoping this would put an end to the argument.

He’s not budging though. He’s got that look on his face, that stubborn ass look where you know he isn’t going to give in or give up on his point.

“You’re not understanding. I have to take care of her. She’s my responsibility.” His words feel like venom and you’re not sure why it’s hurting you that he’s talking like this.

“Mike really, it’s not a big deal for me to help out and get her into those clubs, I care about both of you-“

He doesn’t bother listening to your justification and he spits out, “We aren’t a fucking charity case!”

And you feel your blood run cold as soon as the words leave his lip. It feels closer to a punch in the gut and you know he doesn’t mean it but at this moment it’s hard to see the other side. It’s hard to see why he feels the need to be so mean when all you want to do is help.

When you stand up from your place on the couch next to him you feel your blood boil. You didn’t want the conversation to end up like this but Mike crossed a line, one that you would never.

“I don’t see you as a charity case Mike and I don’t see Abby as one either. I hope deep down you truly know that.” If your anger is bad enough you just go calm. This is one of those times. You walk away and go to the kitchen to begin doing the dishes, anything to distract you from what he just said to you. Anything to help you calm down a little bit before you said anything you would regret. You would rather count backwards from ten than allow Mike to feel the way he just made you feel.

So you do the dishes, plain and simple, no passive aggressive loudness. Just doing the dishes normally until you’re done and the kitchen is cleaned up from dinner. You shut the light off in the kitchen and make your way to yours and Mike’s bedroom and you change out of your regular clothes, getting into pajamas. Mike doesn’t look up from his lap as you pass by him in the living room and you want to turn around and say something, anything to him, but you stop yourself. You grab your book off the bedside table and turn the lamp on to read a chapter before bed. You hope Mike is cooled off enough when he comes to bed to not try and continue the argument.

When you finally settle into bed to actually sleep, Mike hasn’t returned from the living room. You don’t make a point to go looking for him and you want him to have all the space he needs. You hope it’s enough to make him rethink what he said.

You want to sleep but it’s hard to when you’re fighting with Mike like this. The only arguments you ever really have are about finances, and you wanting to help out with those finances that are stressing Mike out.

You’re finally asleep by the time Mike comes to bed and you aren’t sleeping soundly, but you are asleep and that’s the best you can do right now.

You don’t hear the alarm clock going off the next morning to wake you up but you feel Abby’s hand on your shoulder gently shaking you awake, “Wake up…. We have something to show you.. You have to wake up…” she says quietly not wanting to completely scare you to death.

You open your eyes and look at her with a smile, “Good morning, hows my favorite girl doing?” You ask and sit up in bed rubbing your eyes as you come back to reality.

She grabs your arm and pulls like a little kid on Christmas morning, “Come on, I want you to see what me and Mike did for you! You have to come to the living room now.”

You laugh and nod, almost forgetting about the argument you and Mike had the night before. You stand up out of bed and let her pull you to the dining room. You round the corner and a beautiful display of paper flowers decorating the room comes into view. They are hung up unevenly on the walls and you can’t help but admire what you believe to be Abby’s handiwork.

On the table you see a candle at the center of two plates stacked with fresh pancakes. Abby takes you to your seat and pulls it out for you like it was rehearsed and you give her your politest, “Thank you, madam.”

She scurries off in the direction of her room and you hear the door shut, presumably with her inside.

Mike soon emerges from the kitchen wearing your apron with a sheepish smile on his face, “Listen, I just want to say I’m really sorry for how I behaved last night. I shouldn’t have been so stubborn and I definitely shouldn’t have been fighting in front of Abby. Most importantly, I shouldn’t have said something so thoughtless and hurtful. I know you don’t think we are a charity case.” He sits down across from you and scoots his chair in so he is facing you straight on.

You give him a nod to continue talking, you’re ready to listen now.

Mike lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and continues, “You’re family. I love you a lot, and you’re family now. I shouldn’t have gotten so defensive when all you were trying to do was help. I am so sorry.”

You think for a moment and then allow your hand to stretch across the table reaching for his, “Okay. It’s okay Mike.” You take his hand in yours and give it a reassuring squeeze. “I forgive you. I’m also sorry for pushing you on something you were uncomfortable with. It wasn’t my place.”

He shakes his head and looks you in the eyes, “No it is your place, or rather it can be if you want it to be. You’ve been around for so long and I don’t want you to go anywhere, if you want to be apart of Abby’s life in that way then I should be greatful, and I am.” He says sincerely.

You give him a grin and he pulls your hand up to his lips to press a kiss gently to the back of your knuckles.

Moments later you hear Abby’s door open and she scurries through the living room to your side she wraps her arms around you and leans her head into you, “Can I please join art club with Sophia, I told her I would so that we could hang out more,”

Your smile grows even more and you wrap your arm around Abby hugging her close and nodding, “Of course you can Abby we will take care of it for you, won’t we Mike?”

He looks at you from across the table and nods, “Yeah Abby, We will take care of it.” And in that moment you feel at home with this little family you joined. You feel like it’s starting to fall into place.

#fnaf movie fanfic #mike schmidt fanfic #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf fanfic #fiction #my writing #mike schmidt fnaf

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beelz-bub · 8 months

Text

Hello again Prohibitedwish nation, got a part 2 for Ya :D

Here's part 1 🫡

*it's SFW btw, nothing crazy

"Bigger than it seems"

(The pair reach the Time room and assist someone with a wish. Prismo gets a new perspective of the place.)

The stairway slides open, and the pair step inside the Time Room. The entrance slammed shut behind them when Prismo moved his hand commanding it to do so. "It's a lot more stairs when you aren't just gliding across the walls, haha-" Prismo said exasperatedly.

"You're at least tall enough to walk up them normally!" Scarab huffed, his bug legs can only bend at a certain angle.

"Ahem."

An unfamiliar voice cut through their brief conversation. The stranger alarming Prismo, he assured Scarab no one would be there, and now he looks rather foolish. Prismo gasped, "Ah! Oh my glob I'm so sorry man, did you want a wish?" he asked, hurrying over to the stranger.

"Yes. Where is Prismo?" they gestured at the walls, "He fails to be here! I was promised a malevolent Wishmaster of great size and power, and arrive at this decrepit pit with no one here!" they shout, stamping their cane into the ground.

"Uh, well, you see," he fiddled with his hands, "I'm Prismo. I'll uh, grant your wish for you if you want,"

"Tsk," they laughed, "You're Prismo? What a disgrace!"

Normally Scarab would've laughed and agreed with the stranger, but he was oddly offended by this accurate statement. He pushed Prismo out of the way, "Did you want a wish, or not?" he looked down at the rude little pest, "Just spit out what you want and leave." he hissed, pure hatred filling his lungs.

Unnerved by Scarab's abrasive and cold attitude they obeyed, "Ah, w-well-" and stepped back, "I wish to increase my fortune by any means necessary!"

Prismo smiled, "Wish granted," he snapped his fingers, the creature fading out of the room into his wish-altered reality. Immediately the TV wall hissed with static, and the creature appeared, kneeling on the ground "My mansion! My beautiful house!" it cried, "All for this stupid card full of nothing!"

Scarab watched this all unfold, then turned to Prismo, "What did you do?"

He giggled, "They did say 'any means'~" Prismo picked up the remote, changing the channel to a cloudy sky, "They wanted to increase their wealth so I sold everything they had and put it all in the bank!"

"Could they just not buy it back?"

"I converted everything to money, everything is gone and he can't get it back. Also, the card is locked~"

"Huh," Scarab remarked, "Impressive." he nudged Prismo in the shoulder playfully, "Really working that malevolent wish magic huh?"

Prismo's gut felt fluttery at the compliment, "Heh, oh well it was nothing, just the usual~"

"You do good work for being as lazy as you are." Scarab stepped away, cracking his arms and back in some kind of odd means of stretching. It sounded like his bones were snapping, very disturbing.

"Ew," Prismo whispered to himself, "Hey, why don't you put that human disguise back on?" he walked in front of Scarab.

"Why?"

"Well, uh," he tried to think of some sort of justification, "I don't think you'd want to be seen hanging around me when I'm like this. Might get in trouble, so uh, just to be safe! Y'know?"

"Hm... That's some sound reasoning, very well." he did his thing, returning to that odd human form. It was different but nice. A lot softer than Scarab's usual bug-self. Not that Prismo hated it, but it was harder to read Scarab's emotions with that mask on. Scarab ran his fingers through his hair, pulling away after feeling how odd it was, "So what did you even want to do?"

"Oh! Uhm," Prismo squinted his eyes and looked around. Something about the place made him feel strange. The Time Room was a lot larger than it usually was. It was like Prismo shrunk down into a tiny little flea on the ground. The room seemed so much smaller in his usual form, "Huh, does this look weird to you too?" he asked, not really expecting a response. Just speaking out loud to himself.

"It looks the same as it always has."

"I dunno, everything feels so much bigger," he reached out his hand, "I mean look at the TV wall, it's huge! Like totally massive. Dude is this what you guys see all the time?"

"Yes?" Scarab stood beside him, "Finally witnessing what it's like to be small?"

"Yeah, man! This is crazy..." he spun around, taking in the size of the place. While he spun around, arms wide, he bumped into the jacuzzi, "Oof-"

"Ugh, what's wrong with you," Scarab mumbled, although internally, he did find Prismo rather funny. He wouldn't be caught dead laughing in front of him.

Prismo, however, began laughing hysterically, "Ah man, I really just did that!" he put his hands on the edge of the pool, "Hm... Hey Scarabby?"

"What?"

"You wanna take a dip with me?" he asked, reaching around his robe to pull it off.

"Ugh, no." he crossed his arms, looking away.

"Suit yourself, heh." he tossed off his undershirt, "Suit~" he giggled at his stupid pun.

"You are honestly so childish-" he turned around to see a shirtless Prismo struggle to get into the spa without falling in. He was immediately hit with several emotions that shot him directly in the heart. His gut reaction was to laugh. Scarab let out the most exasperated laugh, then began to get angry with himself that he let that slip, "Why are you getting in the water while still wearing pants you moron!?" he yelled, his heart beating out of his chest. He was angry at himself, his attempts at getting into the jacuzzi while still wearing pants were so funny to him. Prismo didn't need to know that, he didn't need to know about any reciprocated feelings. He was the one in control here.

"It's called..." he plopped himself in the water successfully, "I'll just dry 'em after~" he giggled, resting his arms on the edge of the pool. Scarab stood there with his pale face redder than a tomato much to his chagrin. Prismo tilted his head, "You looking a little hot over there Scarabby, you need to cool off some-"

"What did you just say to me?!" he hissed, completely embarrassed.

"Cool off bud!" Prismo stood up and splashed some of the water on Scarab.

"Augh!" he dodged the attack, "Stop that!!"

"Common~ lighten up!" he laid back, resting on the side so he could still see Scarab, "Ahh man," he sighed, closing his eyes, "That's nice... I've never felt it like this before. I think I'm getting used to these feelings all over my body man. Before it was like, kaboom! Bunch of new sensations all over my bod, but now it's like, woah! So cool-" he chuckled, "You had me all nervous before, but I think I should be good now. Y'know, in case you wanna hold hands again!"

He snarled, "Wh- why would I want to do that-!?" Scarab was frozen in place, unable to reconcile with his emotions.

"Haha!" Prismo laughed, his little hand covering his mouth, "You're so cute Scarabby~"

"I gHH-" he slammed his mouth shut with a hiss of frustration. Scarab balled his hands up into a fist, stumbling over to the spa, gripping the edge tightly while pointing at Prismo, "STOP TALKING!" His hand shook, "I loathe you to my core! You PEST, you ROT! I will rip you apart piece by piece until you are nothing but pink shreds in my claws!"

Prismo smiled, swimming over to him, and looking at him directly in the face. Scarab had pulled away as he did so. He stared into the flustered bug's eyes, holding this for a painful 10 seconds before reaching over and pecking him on the cheek. He swam back to his original spot in the jacuzzi, watching Scarab's reaction with glee.

Scarab had completely ceased, taking a minute to even process what had just happened. The rage that filled his confused mess of a brain had pushed him to attack. How dare Prismo do such a thing, it was a violation of everything he was working towards. He growled, "I'LL KILL YOU!" pushing himself over the edge, and lunging at Prismo. His claws were ready to grab him by the throat and tear him apart.

Luckily, Prismo had swiftly moved out of the way, the poor bug splashing right into the water. He moved to the other end of the spa laughing, "Hey, now you can't make fun of me anymore, you're in here with your whole suit on!" he laughed.

Scarab stood up, his arms wide out to his sides while he dripped like a soaking wet cat, "Ugh," he gritted his teeth, "I really, really hate you."

"Hehe~" a grin stretched across his face, "Alright -- let's get outta here." he stood up, walked to the edge, getting out and dripping on the floor like a wet dish. He stood there immobile for a second, "Yeesh! What is this?" he shivered, holding himself close together, "It's like my body is being stabbed with a bunch of little knives. It's so strange, ugh, it like hurts!" he looked at Scarab with pleading eyes, "W-what is this?"

He stepped out in a similar fashion, except he didn't shiver like Prismo, who stood there shivering like a dog, "You're cold." the water cooled him off a lot, he was now calm and collected. This was mostly due to Prismo's pathetic shivering.

"C-c-cold?" he reached over to his robe, Scarab jumping out of his way. Prismo touched the warm robe, bundling himself up immediately, "I don't like being cold man, this sucks, like really bad." he sniffled, "Hey! Why aren't you cold?"

"I'm cold-blooded. I'm not affected by temperature like you are."

"Oh," he sniffled again, "Maybe I shouldn't have gone in without a towel or something."

"Yeah." Scarab lifted his soggy suit, "Ugh -- can you dry us off?"

"Oh, you're so right!" he lit up, snapping his fingers. The two were now nice and dry. Prismo felt a comfortable warmth return to his human flesh, "Ahh... Much better." he slipped his arms through the robe, "Wanna go on an adventure Scarabby?"

He sighed, "I suppose."

"Great!" the two had their forms separated into a bunch of multicolored rectangles, traveling throughout time and space to a location that only Prismo knew.

(like and share and follow and hit that notification button for part 3 or else i'll delete my account)

#Still embarrassed about this #But i'm on that grind gang GRRR #🫡🫡#Prismo #Scarab #prohibitedwish #Fic #adventure time #fionna and cake #prismo the wishmaster #scarab fionna and cake #scarab the god auditor #the scarab #cosmic human prismo (my thang)

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fox-mulder-gets-pegged · 11 months

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Been spending my time lately thinking of a House MD au where, through a series of accidents and lies and a bet he didn't rly intend to win, House ends up as a registered foster parent (he's still addicted to Vicodin and his normal dickish workaholic self but for some reason he cleared the requirements and trust me he's as stunned and mildly concerned as everyone else is).

Through further Shenanigans™, he ends up accidentally getting handed fostership of not one, not two, but three hellish but brilliant kids:

1. This total smartass 16 year old named Robert Chase who yeah he's a bitchy teenaged boy and a former rich kid and Australian with enough mommy and daddy issues to reawaken Freud after his dad dipped and absconded all parental rights and his mom drank herself to death, but he's also got a nice car left over from his rich kid days and an eye for detail and weirdly enough his best friend/mortal enemy (some other teen named Eric Foreman) and his on again off again girlfriend (Allison Cameron, totally won't last if u ask House) both work at the hospital as a candy striper and after school in the cafeteria respectively so House can get all the inside gossip from Chase. Plus Chase has no problems breaking and entering into patient's homes which helps bc since he's not employed by the hospital Cuddy can't complain as far as House is concerned.

2. A 14 year old girl who only answers to Thirteen (House knows he could look her name up in her file but honestly it drives Chase nuts that she won't tell him her real name and that's good enough for him) and who's dad was declared unfit after the death of his wife to Huntington's devastated him. She's a total nightmare, snarky and quick witted and freakishly smart even tho she puts most of those smarts towards things like shaving Chase's entire head (eyebrows included) bc he's trying to grow a sucky teenage mustache, and trying to take House's wallet bc she keeps calling him Old Man and he informed her he's actually only 25 but the stress of fostering has aged him prematurely and she's like 95% sure that's a lie but she wants to check his license and make sure bc everyone lies. She loves tormenting Chase by telling him his best friend and/or his girlfriend is hot and asking if they're single.

And 3. This 6 year old boy named Lawrence Kutner who's weirdly cheerful considering his parents got killed in front of him. He's way too chatty and excellent at puzzles and the only morning person in the entire house and therefore frequently tries to make breakfast (he likes to be helpful and he hasn't burned the place down yet so House doesn't feel the need to stop him). Once he told House he was gonna build a Death Star in the living room and House said lol sure go ahead whatever, only to return home from work to discover Kutner called himself out from school and has a huge wooden frame made of broken furniture in the living room. House rly can't argue since he did say go ahead. Benefits of fostering a 6 year old are 1. The babes love it, 2. Free excuse to leave work early/come in late/not show up at all, and 3. Justification for buying juice boxes and Ritz crackers. The neighbor kid Taub is his go to babysitter bc his mom volunteered him forcibly and Taub is lowkey praying that babysitting Kutner could lead to an in at Princeton Plainsboro once he graduates high-school and finishes medical school (it won't, House doesn't believe in nepotism unless it benefits him).

The adventures of House and his Foster Ducklings mostly revolve around being a Found Family, but do involve frequent plots such as:

House fired his brand new fellows again (he tosses em every three or so months, he hasn't found The Right Team yet) and will sometimes bring his foster kids in, hand em doctors coats, and tell patients that they're just a bunch of medical savants here to consult yes even the 6 year old he's actually Harvard's youngest graduate ever.

House sends the kids to break into a patient's home. They refuse. House tells them the first one to find black mold or lead paint or a dead animal or whatever gets $20. They agree. Chase drops Thirteen and Kutner off at a bus stop across town and drives over himself so he can get an hour and a half head start (ultimate fuck them kids moment, however Thirteen did steal his wallet so guess who's paying for lunch and their taxi ride to the patient's house? Net loss.)

Cuddy demands House does his clinic hours. House sends his foster kids to do his clinic hours for him. Tfw you go to the free walk in clinic for a sore throat and a cough and your doctor is a 6 year old boy who keeps asking for help with spelling whilst filling out your chart.

Wilson babysits them one (1) time since House doesn't trust Chase not to throw a party or sell his foster siblings on eBay if left as the one in charge. He wakes up with a big strip of hair poorly bleached right down the middle. Chase crushed up stolen sleeping pills and mixed them into a juice box, which Kutner 'innocently' offered to Wilson. Thirteen was going to bleach and dye his whole head blue (for practice, she wants to dye her hair but she's certainly not gonna fuck up her own hair until she has the method down) but Wilson woke up pretty quickly due to years of House drugging him. Wilson has not offered to babysit again.

Anyways this is my House Foster Ducklings au which I'm thinking about actually writing. Thank u 🫡

#house md #greg house #robert chase #remy hadley #lawrence kutner #i just think Chase and Thirteen and Kutner are the most House's Actual Kids out of all the fellows #give that man three incredibly smart self reliant kids with issues™#i do imagine a plot where House does overdose of vicodin #and the kids find him #and they're in the hospital #and House has to contend with the fact that he either has to give the kids up to better homes #or make smarter choices bc it's unfair of him to be overdosing and almost dying when he has three traumatized kids relying on him #love when there's some middle aged guy whos like 'no im not a dad' but has a gaggle of kids following him around #feel free to message me about this au

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spacedace · 9 months

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Reluctant War AU Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

More of the brain worm that has taken me over, gonna probably post it to Ao3 here before too long. Already got another part started and so many ideas for additional stuff, someone please send help I've been consumed by this thing lol

Sorry if Waller seems out of character, outside of fandom I'm mostly familiar with her through Justice League the animated show & Justice League: Unlimited and her vibe there has always struck me as "deeply incredibly unlikable character that also kind of has a point but also has done so much fucked up shit in the name of her goals that you don't really care about her point anymore." So you know, complicated lol. If she's completely unrecognizable let me know, but I'm hoping she feels at least somewhat like Waller.

Forgot to say this in the last update, but still feel free to use all this as an overly long prompt if yall want. Literally anything I throw out to the void should be treated as a prompt lol If there's anything at all interesting to you in any of this nonsense go for it <3 <3 <3

---

Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.

Ruthless, heartless, vicious, cruel.

She’d been called it all. Wore the words thrown as insults as a badges of pride and valor. Because at the end of the day, when it came to the problems she was given to face, the issues she was meant to solve, those words meant she’d done what others had been too squeamish or cowardly to do. Life was a never ending slog of trolley problems and she the only one unshakable enough to pull the levers that needed pulling.

It wasn’t so simple as a matter of greater good.

Greater good was what the weak willed muttered to themselves after having feelings over doing the bare minimum. A justification used by people on all sides to do what they wanted with fractured, faulty logic thrown around like truth was a thing immutable. To assuage their guilt when they were forced to make a call they didn’t want to.

It wasn’t a matter of greater good. It was a matter of preservation. Of protection. Of digging through the filth to find the threats skittering beneath and crush them with ruthless abandon. Of facing a god and not blinking because if you did it could cost the world.

Of doing what needed to be done, no matter how underhanded or atrocious it was.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands wrapped tight around the throat of something that could threaten to destroy it all.

When the Ghost Investigation Ward had been shoved her way with it’s sucking wound of a budget, it’s bloated incompetent staff, its asinine methods she’d seen a rotted limb in need of hacking off. It hadn’t been until she’d been conducting her inspection, digging through the trash for a few pearls of effective agents she could snatch up and put to work elsewhere, that she’d truly seen what they were working on. The potential.

Potential to better arm themselves with in the forms of the strange new weapons being created.

Potential for threats far greater than anything even she had thought possible before.

The GIW as it had been when she’d first come across it was a fetid waste of time and resources. A laughing stock agency only secret because no one took them seriously enough to look. Made stupid and useless with its own conceited delusions of importance it didn’t actually have. Yet.

She went to work on it. Hacking away as she’d originally intended, but this time with a different goal in mind. She ripped out the weeds with bare, calloused hands and planted proficiency and loyalty in their place. She took over as director herself, tossing the self-aggrandizing fool that had been running the place into the ground to the dogs as the culprit for misappropriate spendings, saving the agency by tweaking things until their ballooning budget was pinned neatly onto the former director as an embezzling charge.

Then she got to work.

The Fentons were brilliant, if entirely insane. But Amanda could work with that. She’d reigned Harley Quinn in - more or less - she could do the same to the two deranged scientists that so eagerly wanted to be apart of the fight against the dead. Especially when the benefit came in the form of the inventions they threw together so easily, especially when those inventions were weapons.

It took very little to get them on board with her plans for the GIW. Keeping their focus could be a chore, at times, but she didn’t even have to really do much in the way of pressing to get them back where she wanted them. They craved knowledge and understanding nearly as much as they craved the eradication of the entities themselves. Letting them have the first look at a new subject here, free reign over a vivisection there, it took so little to fuel their fervor and keep them busy working on the projects she set for them.

Things had been going smoothly.

For a time at least.

Until Phantom.

He’d been the main focus of the previous director’s attention, the big fish he’d so desperately wanted to catch and put up on his wall. Amanda wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t a tempting prospect, but not one she’d put above the other projects she had set in motion since taking over. No, Phantom was powerful, enough to be a real problem one day, but she could the awkward youth in the way he held himself, the inexperience in how he handled situations. She had time to get everything else in order before focusing on getting Amity Park’s would-be hero brought to heel.

And he would be brought to heel. One way or another.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands wrapped tight around the Core of a fledgling god and bending him to her will.

An artifact, old an powerful, recovered with some effort. A means of controlling specters, of chaining them to the will of the artifact’s wielder. Dangerous in the wrong hands. Dangerous in the right hands.

It was shattered, and even whole and functional Phantom was resistant to its power. But Amanda Waller prided herself in her ability to see the potential in things. It could be repaired, be made better. Even gods could be bound, be made to kneel, with the right pieces, with the right application of force.

It was just a matter of time to gather everything needed.

Phantom didn’t know he could single handedly destroy every last member of the Justice League. The baby fat, the innocent eyes, the split-second hesitations when he fought. He knew enough to be confident in fighting the usual ghosts that haunted Amity Park, but he still very much saw himself as a little fish. Maybe it was the part of him that was still Daniel Fenton, gangly teenager not quite sure what he was truly capable of yet.

She had time before the Fenton’s son truly became an issue. Time to judge if his parents’ obsessiveness would overcome their - rather shoddy, by Amanda’s estimation - parental instincts and continue to hunt him once they knew the truth. Time to get as much out of them as she could before hand, should they falter at the idea of attacking their own son. Time for the staff to be repaired and returned to working order, to get the other items needed for the truly big fish hidden on the other side of the veil between worlds.

She had time.

Until she didn’t.

Pariah Dark had not been something she thought she’d have to account for - not yet, at least.

If he wasn’t already dead, she’d ring the Ghost King’s neck with her bare hands. His arrival had opened Phantom’s eyes to what he was capable of, of just how big of a fish he was. Worse still, Phantom’s defeat of the war mongering King changed the state of play. Phantom was no longer an impressively powerful half dead teenager.

He was King Infinite.

He was an Ancient.

He was getting on her last damn nerves.

Phantom’s rogue gallery were now firmly under the boy’s control. Still distinct nuisances around Amity Park, but no longer considered true concerns. They were loyal to their boy king, delighting in ruffling his feathers but never crossing the line into treason or attempted regicide. Which meant that the GIW was the only thing that held his attention.

Amanda took the time to send a care package to the former GIW director in his tiny, dank prison cell. As thanks for his carelessness in revealing to the entire town - both living and dead - of the agency’s existence and their intentions. Had he stuck to standard protocol, Phantom would have been none the wiser to their presence. Would have scratched his head and shrugged his shoulders at the ghost that went missing upon occasion. Would have been boredly uninterested in the people his parents had begun working with. Would have been taken by surprise when they finally came for him.

But no.

No that self-obsessed, fame chasing imbecile had to go and announce to everyone and their dead mother that the GIW existed and exactly what it was they were in Amity Park to do.

Phantom knew what they were there to do.

They could only count on his naive certainty that he could broker peace with them for so long.

Peace. As if he and his people weren’t the invading force, the monsters slipping in through the cracks between worlds, the latest threat that had to be accounted for. As if he himself hadn’t rent their world asunder himself in another world, another time. No. Peace was not something they could hash out with this baby-faced monarch with his too-big crown. Peace was the assurance of safety, security. Of control of the situation.

There could be no peace.

The higher ups were somehow surprised when Phantom took that to mean there would be war.

Amanda Waller was not.

The Fentons, as suspected, took the right side when all was revealed. Steady hands and flinty eyes as they crafted the weapons that would be needed for the coming fight. Minds even sharper in their maddened grief, hearts set on revenge for the son lost and the entity that stole his face and friends and sister in his garish pretense at humanity. They were blinded to the reality of the situation in its entirety, the potential in what their son truly was, but at the end of the day it didn’t really matter. They did what she needed them to do, they could believe whatever it was they wanted so long as they did.

By the time the boy king and his armies marched upon the Amity park facility, preparations had been put into place. The base in Amity had been stripped back to bare essentials, everything of importance moved to more secured locations.

The weapons labs.

The artifact.

The girl.

All tucked well away from the front lines where Phantom and his motley crew could not reach. Their time to be put in play would come, but not yet. First she needed to gauge what Phantom and his people were capable of, what they were willing to do in the name of what they wanted. Amity Park was a pawn well sacrificed on that front. As were the other facilities she’d left easy to find.

The problem with making children gods, with giving them crowns and calling them King and giving them armies to play with, was that they thought there should be rules. That even in the trenches tearing apart their enemies, there was a certain level of playing fair that everyone was held to. They thought there was a way the world worked, of how things should be that blinded them to more effective options even as time stretched on and desperation set in.

It was the Dead’s problem though, not hers.

She reached out to the Justice League. Sour faced, unhappy, bitterly reluctant to accept that she needed their help. Stone faced and barely containing their rage at what little they knew of the situation, they agreed to a meeting.

She didn’t let herself smile until she was well and truly alone in her office.

Greater good. A lie people told themselves. A fairytale told to children. A means of convincing the weaker willed that they had no choice, that they had a noble duty to bend to. A belief that could be wielded like a weapon if the fantasy of the idea had dug in deep enough. And there were few it had dug into so deep as the members of the Justice League.

Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands clenched tight on a victory long in the making.

---

Part Four

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #danny fenton #amanda waller #GIW #ghost investigation ward #Jack Fenton #Maddie Fenton #bad parents jack & maddie fenton #cause none of this is angsty enough yet lol #tw references to vivisection #tw references to death #waller out here playing 3d chess #of course she wasn't surprised by the inevitable war she was just hoping she'd have her secret weapon ready before it actually kicked off #oh well she still has plans B - J to get through #and all the variations for each #gonna take care of her ghost problem and her justice league problem in one fell swoop if she gets her way #just throw some GIW agents into the meat grinder for a bit while she gets stuff in order & so she can see just what Danny is willing to do #anyway wonder what Elle is up to during all this #i'm sure she's fine and there's nothing to worry about #waller playing the long con yall

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taetaespeaches · 1 year

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“Are you really not going to complain even once?”

yoongi x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 1.8K

a/n: Hi lovelies! Here’s a little handyman Min helping reader/Kid with some simple home improvement projects. He’s super sweet and adorable about it and she’s annoying but he’s endeared. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :))

p.s. Happy birthday to our favorite honey boy! It’s Yoongi day!!!

Observing your boyfriend from the bathroom doorway, you smirked at the little grunts that echoed through the room. Every twist of his wrench was accompanied by a low grumble from Yoongi’s throat. If he wasn’t fixing your sink out of the goodness of his heart, his undying love for you, and your complete inability to do it yourself, you’d tease him for being a grandpa.

When he arrived at your apartment fifteen minutes earlier, you had ambushed him with the home improvement project. He left a sweet kiss on your cheek as he entered your living room, immediately pulling his eyebrows together when you flashed him a pout. “What?”

“My bathroom sink is leaking,” you sighed.

The man glanced toward the bathroom in thought, a small pout taking over his own mouth. It just naturally did that. “Are the tools I left for you still in the hall closet?”

“If that’s where you left them,” you smirked, drawing your boyfriend’s attention back to you. He gave you a gummy smile and a slight shoulder shake as he laughed silently.

“You mean you haven’t touched them?” He asked, widening his eyes in feigned shock.

“Oh sure I have, I’m always fixing things around here,” you joked, nodding your head in exaggeration. “The… fridge,” you started listing, nearly laughing at the way Yoongi’s jaw dropped open slightly as he played along. “The window-”

“The window?” He asked in surprise and amusement.

“The…” you glanced down at the hardwood, “floorboards.”

“Wow, now that’s impressive,” he teased you, already leaving you to go get the tools you definitely had not touched since he brought them over with the justification of, just in case you need them.

“I know it is!” You shouted down the hall at him.

“You just didn’t fix the sink,” he pointed out, looking back toward the living room at you to find you standing with a stumped smirk. “Too busy patching up the floorboards.”

“I had to leave something for you,” you shrugged. “I’m charitable.”

Nodding and chuckling at you, he raised the tools so you could see them. “They’re dusty, by the way,” he noted, teasing you further. “Thanks for leaving the sink, you know how I love a plumbing project.” The sarcasm was thick but so was the fondness as he spoke.

“I know you do, I know this about you,” you continued joking as he disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you smiling like an idiot as your chest felt warm with affection.

Now, here you were watching him finish up the task you stuck him with, still cozy with that same sweet affection. “I should have made you cookies or something,” you suddenly realized. “Or some fresh squeezed lemonade,” you added with a saccharine and very bad southern accent. Yoongi looked up at you with a small smile, shaking his head at your antics.

“You mean to tell me there are no cookies?” He teased, making you frown playfully in response. With a huff, he dropped the wrench to the floor and leaned back on his hands, pretending to go on strike. “I would quit right now but,” he shrugged, “it’s done.”

“Oh my god, really?” You gasped in excitement at your essentially new sink. Rushing over, you turned it on and peered underneath, your face level with his, as you watched the pipes. “Look at that, not a leak in sight,” you awed, facing Yoongi and smiling at his pretty features as he watched you. “Thank you.”

He simply shrugged, brushing you off. Leaning toward him, you hovered over his lips, watching as Yoongi’s mouth quirked upward slightly, unable to hold the small smile back. He was the one who closed the gap, pushing himself forward just enough to catch your lips in a sweet kiss, your hand meeting the side of his face as you brushed his hair behind his ear and your lips continued to move against his appreciatively.

When you pulled away, the man’s eyelids fluttered open slowly, his eyelashes looking long and delicate, and so very pretty.

“Would you mind doing one more thing for me?” You asked tentatively, a guilty grin on your face. He gave you a soft close-mouthed smile with a single nod, letting you know it was no big deal. “My towel rack keeps falling off every time I pull the towel off.”

“The screw probably just needs to be tightened,” he guessed, his voice turning into a bit of a grunt as he lifted his body off the ground. Again, you thought about teasing him for his old man antics, but thought better of it.

He tugged on the pole, the bar coming off in his hand, making another adorable pout fall on his lips. So cute, you thought. Pushing the towel rack back onto its hinges, he sat underneath it and turned his screwdriver into- something- a few times. The whole thing took him about thirty seconds, and when he tugged on the rack again, it stayed attached to the wall.

“That’s it?” You asked in surprise, Yoongi flashing you a gummy smile.

“I’m just a pro, it would be tougher than that for a less skilled person,” he playfully gloated, making you roll your eyes as you beamed at him.

“Well, Mr. Handyman Min, my shower is also draining really slow,” you challenged him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I don’t have a drain snake,” he suddenly snapped into true handyman mode, looking at the shower thoughtfully. “But I have one at the dorm. Do you have some drano for now? I can bring the drain next time I come over.”

Staring at him in thought as you squinted your eyes, a smile lifted on the man’s mouth. “I don’t know, do I have drano?” You asked, fighting back a giggle at yourself.

“I left some for you,” he nodded down the hallway. “Under the kitchen sink.”

“I knew that,” you quickly recovered, hurrying to the kitchen and opening the cabinet doors to search through the cleaning supplies. The surface cleaners and glass solutions were used often, but anything to do with plumbing was a mystery to you. Finally finding the bottle, you rushed back to the bathroom, holding it up in victory. “I told you I had drano.”

Scoffing at you, he took the bottle from you with a small, “thanks, Kid.”

Once again, the process of using the drano took about thirty seconds, making you feel silly for never trying to fix these before handing the chores off to him. “I would do these things myself if it didn’t take you a total of thirty seconds,” you smiled softly. Yoongi grinned back, shaking his head to brush you off yet again. “Work smarter, not harder,” you added jokingly, earning a chuckle from the man as he nodded in agreement.

Standing up straight and turning to face you, the man stared at you from across the room in anticipation. You stared back, pulling a look of confusion. “What?”

“What’s next?” he shrugged. If he wasn’t Yoongi, you’d think he was being sassy about all the projects. But he was Yoongi, and you knew he was just genuinely asking if there was anything else he could do for you. He loved this shit. He loved being able to take care of you through these small acts of service. And therein was the true reason you never looked into tightening the towel rack yourself. Why would you want to rob him of the opportunity to look after you? And why would you want to rob yourself of the privilege of being looked after by him? You loved this shit too. And when he would eventually come over with a drain snake in hand, you’d greet him with a batch of cookies, just to further the bit, but also to say thank you.

“My closet door is squeaky,” you told him, feeling your chest warm up once again as he started toward your bedroom. As he walked by you, he stalled, holding out the bottle of drano.

“Can you put this back for me, Kid?” He asked, a gummy smile planted on his face as you nodded.

“Of course, Handyman Min,” you teased, taking the bottle. Before he walked away, however, he pressed his lips against your forehead gently, the touch lingering as he took his time. Your eyes fell closed at the touch, appreciating the feeling of his affection. When he pulled away, his body was shuffling down the hallway to your bedroom before you even opened your eyes.

Glancing after him, you watched as he disappeared into the room, and only then did you realize you were hugging the bottle of drano against your chest like a lovestruck idiot. Rolling your eyes at yourself, you dropped the product to your side and trudged toward the kitchen, however, stopping yourself when you got to the bedroom.

Leaning against your door frame, you watched as he inspected the door, opening and closing it to figure out where the squeaks were coming from. “Are you really not going to complain even once?” You suddenly questioned him, Yoongi’s attention snapping towards you. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly ajar as he waited for you to elaborate.

“What’s there to complain about?” He simply asked in response, making you smile at him from across the room as you shook your head.

“Yoongi,” you said, as though the answer was obvious. Because it was. He had been stuck with household projects since he arrived at your place.

“The better question is, why haven’t you called me a grandpa even once?” He countered, a gummy smile curving on his lips as your grin widened into an amused beam.

“I held myself back!” You informed him. “I didn’t want to insult you as you were saving me and my entire apartment.”

“You’re so dramatic,” he spoke quietly through a breathy clicky chuckle. “I made my last grunt intentional just for you.”

Gasping, you then tsked at him, shaking your head. “You’re such a tease.” His shoulders shook in silent laughter as he looked back at the door and opened it a bit wider to hear the squeak one more time. “Do you really not mind all this?”

“What?” He asked, looking at you in genuine confusion for a moment. You nodded at the door and held up the bottle of drano to emphasize the meaning of your question. “No,” he shook his head, the answer simple and sincere. “It’s no big deal.”

“Ok,” you spoke quietly through a small smitten smile, nodding your head. “Good, because let’s be honest,” you started, Yoongi’s eyebrows lifting in curiosity and anticipation for a sassy or ridiculous comment. “I’m doing most of the work.” Yoongi’s eyebrows lifted even higher as he waited for your explanation. “Supervising is so hard,” you playfully whined, Yoongi instantly chuckling at you.

“It is, I believe you,” he flashed a feigned pout at you. Smiling at him, he returned the expression, a genuine moment of gratitude and care passing between the both of you. “My hardworking girl,” he whispered, breaking eye contact for a moment as he looked to the ground shyly, still wearing that smitten adoring gummy grin.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #yoongi imagine #yoongi drabble #yoongi blurb #yoongi oneshot #bts reactions #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts drabbles #bts blurbs #bts oneshots #bts imagine #yoongi scenario #bts scenarios #bts reaction

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eveningepiphany · 9 months

Text

welcome to the final show | H.S, part 3

my masterlist!

part one and part two!

summary: harry goes over to y/ns hotel for a good old room service dinner, also getting a little tipsy on wine, while starting to blur some lines. and it’s not long before things are no longer just between the two of them.

warnings: fluff, swearing, alcohol, getting a lil wine drunk, paparazzi, being confused on if you’re falling in love or just really good friends.

a/n: i’m so excited to finally have this written for you all! i’ve had some pretty bad writers block, hence the delay in getting it to you, but thank you so much again for your support and I hope you enjoy <3

———

There’s a certain type of attatchment that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s when things start to flourish. Maybe with a hobby, a passion, or a new found person. One your brain decides to put all its focus and interest on, to the point it’s all consuming.

This one gets stuck to you like glue. Hard to shake in the sense of no matter how hard you try to ignore it, it’s all you can think about.

Losing yourself in daydreams of something or someone without even realising, until you’re reaching for anything that will bring you closer to filling that need.

That’s exactly what’s leading you to be reaching for your phone at any given point of the day.

You imagine many perceive it to be a permanent growth on your person. But you can hardly help it. Texting is a simple way to reach someone. Feel connected.

So, safe to say you’ve messaged Harry more than your own family over the course of this trip.

You’ve become attached. To Harry Styles. Again…?

Of course, being a huge fan it’s easy to say you should probably already be accustomed to this, given your level of obsession.

But this is a whole other ball game. One that is becoming like an internal battle. Your already unhealthy and predisposed infatuation paired with now a real physical connection is enough to render you useless.

You reach for your phone. Text him, your brain begs. You consider. No, stop being clingy you loser, your brain rolls her metaphorical eyes. You place the phone down. Stare at a wall. Think about him. Rinse, repeat.

Not normal, you don’t think.

However, you search for some kind of justification. That you’re just good friends, and all that shit. It’s normal to miss someone you’re friends with.

If he considers you as that.

Which you would hope since you’ve been texting him enough it would be concerning if he saw you as just some mutual of his.

You’re also sitting in a cafe, unfortunately without him right now. Eating a croissant wishing that he were here. Allowing your gaze to linger on the chair across from yourself, imagining his solid frame filling up the empty space. What he would do if you stood up and ran a hand through his hair, maybe lent down a little so you could just—

The ring of the bell atop their entrance chimes and drags you out if your dangerous and spiralling thoughts. And for some reason get excited like you’ve somehow manifested this man to walk through the cafe door by thinking of him.

Feeling silly at the nag of disappointment in your stomach as you see an ordinary bloke saunter over to the till.

Maybe one you would check out, or emit some kind of interest in before you properly met Harry. You would feel disloyal now. Like the parasocial relationship has entered an entirely new level of psychotic.

If it’s still parasocial, that is. Or if now you’re just simply a girl with very cloudy and mixed feelings about a very beautiful man.

You audibly sigh out. Eating the final bite of your admittedly delicious croissant and picking up your phone.

You type out a message, sending it before you can even think it.

I’m in a cafe right now without you and you’ve honestly ruined them for me. I miss you and your free cups of tea.

Without me? Rude.

You laugh at his quip, watching as the little bubble pops back up indicating he’s typing.

I’m out right now, but if you’re not busy later we can do something? Go out or I can come over to yours.

You pluck mindlessly at your bottom lip with your teeth, how could you say no to that?

You stress over it either way.

well, you’re very welcome to come over to my hotel room. we can order room service if you want?

To this he texts back an agreement, seemingly keen. And you realise immediately you have to tidy your room before he comes over.

You swing him the location of where you’re staying, including your room and floor number.

Thank you love, ill be there in like 3 hours say? If that works for you.

At that, you stand, because who are you if not over-prepared. And it was time to go make sure your room didn’t like a war had been waged in it when he came over for the first time.

Cant be having a bad impression, you figured.

———

You did in fact rush back to your hotel complex. Not even stopping a crepe stall you passed by, which had to be a first for you. You clean the place until it appears well-kept at the least.

And once you’re finished, you easily fall back into overthinking the whole thing. So excited, yet getting those anxious jitters like a caffeine addict 12 hours no coffee.

Which is why you decide to busy yourself with an afternoon shower. And at the time you’d still had over an hour to go.

You take of course longer than you intended, and shortly after you come out there’s a knock at your door, easily making you jump as you tug a shirt over your head. Regretting the last minute decision for a shower since now you have wet hair and probably look like a right mess.

But it’s not like you can leave him out there while you go blow dry your hair, so you rush over to the door, and tug it open.

His brows shoot up, and a smile slowly blooms on his face as he takes in your appearance.

Your hair is still near dripping, and you stand in bike shorts and a loose tshirt. The most casual he’s ever seen you. Which he loved the look on you more than he admits to himself.

“Hi darling,” he smirks, a warm feeling settling over him as he keeps his eyes on you.

“Hey, Harry.” You stand for a few moments longer, finally shuflling out of his way to let him through the door. He is adorning a white shirt and has the cutest little bandana around his neck.

“I’m sorry,” You laugh, gesturing him inside, “I was drastically overestimating how long it would take me to shower… hence why im in this state.”

He pulls a hand from behind his back, a cup being presented to you.

“Don’t be silly, y’not in a state at all.”

“You’re joking—“ You gently take the cup from his ringed hands, “Harry!”

“M’sorry, m’sorry. I saw a coffee van on the way and I couldn’t help myself.”

“Did you get one for you?”

“No, but I did have a little sip of yours.” He confesses with a quiet laugh. But he quickly busies himself with your room, padding around and peeking out the balcony window.

You take a sip, watching him examine your space. Grateful you cleaned it.

He asks you a few questions about random things in your room, and you settle yourself on the foot of your bed, cross-legged.

You didn’t really think about the lack of seating in your one man room. But this hardly bothers Harry, since he’s scoped up the room service menu from wherever he found it, and sat next to you.

“Alright… what d’we have.” He talks to himself, opening up the menu and scanning over the foods.

You discuss the options, settling on a pizza and pasta to share, because, well, you’re in Italy.

The night progresses easily as time always seems to do when you’re together, and you fake fight over the best kind of pasta sauce. But he lets you have to last slice of pizza so peace is made shortly after.

“Should we order a wine or something? T’wash the pasta down.” He suggests as the sun begins setting.

“Why not, I won’t say no to some wine.”

That gets ordered to your door, and you go from the foot of the bed to lazing at the head of it. Sipping on wine and recounting old stories, or discussing stupid topics.

“Do you think the chicken or the egg came first?” You swirl your glass around, eyes shifting to look at his side profile as he gazes at your roof.

His cute nose outlined by the warm light off the lamp, which you flicked on in the corner after it got dark.

He bursts out into a laugh, “what kind of question is that?”

“I feel like it indicates the sort of person someone is.” You shrug, smiling.

“What like it gives you an intel on my personality?”

“Something like that.” You nod, “and decides if we have to stop being friends, if you answer the wrong one.”

He grins, “Well, maybe tell me which one to pick so we don’t have to do that.”

“Awh, so you don’t want to stop being friends?” You coo, still staring at him, watching as his eyes flick from the roof over to you.

“Of course not, who else am I meant to go on cafe dates with.” He laughs.

You’re both teetering on the edge of being tipsy, and it’s evident in the way you’re both talking to one another. Borderline flirting, probably a more fitting way to describe it.

“True, because I’d be very hard to replace.” You snort with sarcasm, taking the another sip of wine.

“You would be! I love our little dates.” He smiles, the second time he’s dropped the word date in the last minute.

You’ve scooted closer to one another somehow. Shoulder to shoulder as you steal glances of his beautiful face. Maybe this was subconscious, or on purpose. But you’re drawn to him like a magnet.

“So do I…” You flush.

“I’m a little tipsy.” You clarify, breaking the searing eye contact and looking at the near-empty glass in your hand. A fourth refill would easily tip you over the edge.

He lets out a quiet laugh, “Wine gone to y’head too?”

“Mhm, and I have a track record of poor decision making when I have too much of it.” You recall the plenty of times you did the stupidest shit just because you were wine drunk. Hoping that does not happen tonight.

“Might have to see it one day.”

“One day…” you agree, but you realise that you’re not really in Italy for much longer. You have about a week and a half left now.

“I… Harry,” you turn your body to face him, and he sits up a little, noticing the almost serious tone to your voice.

“I’m leaving soon.” You blurt it out, because it’s the only topic of conversation you’ve both been steering clear of. The thing neither of you want to address because eventually this won’t be easy to do. Who knows how many miles could get out between you.

And it almost hurts you to admit yourself because… where exactly does that leave you both?

Does your contact end when you leave Italy? Do you become people who occasionally text on a bi-monthly basis?

He draws a breath, “So am I.”

You let out your own tortured sigh, turning to pop your glass on the beside table and then lean your head onto his shoulder.

Your heart jumps at the contact, and somewhere in your brain, sober Y/N lets out a gasp, because she would never have the balls to do that.

So the wine maybe was a great idea…?

He wraps an arm around your back, “I go back to London after this.”

“Second week of August as well?” You pray it’s not earlier than the start of the month, since tomorrow is literally the 1st.

“Yea, the 13th.” He nods and it’s the only tiny shred of relief you’re getting from all this. That there’s still time left.

“I fly out on the 12th.” You say quietly.

But there’s a small silence that consumes you both for the first time since you met. Because you’re kind of exasperated for options right now. What do you say to someone who is going to inevitably slip from your grip.

You shake your head at nothing in particular, moving to wrap your arms around his shoulders, since words really weren’t going to cut it.

Somewhere in his muddled brain he notes this is the second time you’ve ever initiated a hug. And he leans into it, the arm he had around your back tugging you infinitely closer.

Your cheek is pressed to his neck, and you swear you feel his lips ghosting over the top of your head.

Slowly, you pull back. And he watches you with sharp green eyes. You hold that gaze, until he’s the one that breaks it. Stifling a groan with his hand, covering his face.

You look at him quizzically.

“I like this more than I probably should.” He gestures now between the two of you.

You chuckle, a tiny flutter in your stomach announcing it’s presence.

“So we’re making the most of the time left in Italy, then?” You put forward, ready to nearly wipe your schedule clean for the man.

Which, who could blame you?

“What are y’doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing, if you’re the one asking.” You laugh, and he smiles wide at your comment.

“Oh, is that so darling?”

You roll your eyes in attempt to be convincing, “of course, you always buy me tea so…”

“Well, that decides we’re going to another cafe I suppose.” His hand reaches for his phone strewn on the quilt somewhere, pulling up google maps to find some nearby cafes.

You perch your head back onto his shoulder to watch him scroll through the options. He stumbles on a beautiful looking one, less than a 10 minute walk away. He looks to see if you approve.

He peers down to where you rest on his frame, smiling unwillingly at the sight of you. Your own eyes trailing up to meet his.

And he swears they linger on his lips. Just for a fraction of a second.

“Mh, what d’ya think.” He gets out, voice suddenly several octaves lower. Almost gravelly.

You almost audibly gulp at the sound of him. Hyperaware of his existence right now, you could nearly zone out thinking about the strength of his arm muscle that’s right now pressed against you.

“Yea… yea that looks amazing. And tomorrow, what time?” Your hands fiddle with themselves in your lap.

“How about 1, since you’re probably gonna wanna sleep in a bit.” He suggests, free hand pushing his curls from his eyes.

The way he knows you’re probably going to want to sleep in. God.

“I’m down.” (Bad)

A smile erupts over your face, and you almost forget that the clock is still ticking. That you only have so long left here.

Which ‘almost forgetting’ isn’t enough to stifle the urge to use it as some kind of yolo shit. Because that is unbelievably strong. Like why not just invite him to stay the night?

Maybe another glass of wine and you can gaslight yourself into cuddling him and just falling asleep. He wouldnt leave unless he had to, so it’s an almost flawless plan.

———

The plan infact, was flawless.

To say the least, he slept at yours. In your bed.

I mean you don’t really remember it, since you talked into the early hours of the morning and drank some more alcohol to really top it all off.

You woke up under the covers, still clutching onto Harrys side.

He was already awake, scrolling on his phone, seemingly unbothered by the fact your head had taken residency on his chest.

You take the initiative to glance at the time in the upper-right corner of his phone, a little shocked when it reads 11:47am.

You do groan at the morning light streaming in the windows immediately after seeing the time though.

“G’morning. D’ya have a headache?” He asks with what you can only assume is the end of his morning voice. Which although just a taste, is enough to send you spiralling.

It’s also around now you realise he’s stripped down into boxers— still clad in his white shirt. What the fuck!

You struggle to form a coherent response.

“Morning. A little.” Your voice comes out as a hum.

Somehow, considering you’re cuddling him right now and you literally just slept in the same bed all night, both of you outwardly are quite relaxed about it.

Nothing is awkward. It feels lovely.

“I want a croissant so bad.” You huff, sitting up, stomach growling like as if you hadn’t eaten in a whole 24 hours.

“So, you’re the kind of person that’s hungry immediately after they wake up?” He laughs, hand coming to push the locks of your bed hair out of your face.

Outside of the sheer domesticity of that (which makes you literally have heart palpitations), your hair is a proper train wreck.

The humidity in Italy has made it horrific.

“I guess I am right now?” You reply to his previous ask, combing your fingers through the locks.

“Jesus Christ.” You curse at its uncooperativeness.

“Y’know that episode of friends where Monica complains about how the humidity fucks her hair, she was so right.”

“I love friends.” He immediately gasps, nearly jolting upright in excitement.

You laugh at his enthusiastic reaction, noting that you have to somehow find time over the next week to watch an episode or two with him.

“And if it’s any consolation, I think your hair looks great.”

“Yea well, it’s not like you’d really be able to relate to the frizzy hair. Since yours look so perfect all the time.” You joke.

This evokes a genuine flush on his face, “Alright, Y/N, calm it down.”

He’s laughing but you swear he actually looks a little flustered. Without the wine as a confidence booster, he seemed like suddenly he didn’t know how to take a compliment.

Unbelievable to you since he probably gets that many a day from strangers on the street.

“I, am going to get up and get ready then, so we can go out and eat.” You state, excited to be seemingly spending the majority of the day with him.

He holds back the urge to beg you to stay in bed with him, and says something nonchalant as if he doesn’t mind you getting up. But when you pad off to the bathroom he stares at your now empty space. And immediately shivers at the lack of your body warmth, despite the already warm humid weather.

After a few trips in and out of the bathroom you come out looking beautiful. And he has to get himself up and ready to go in attempt to not overthink it.

You craved his closeness the whole time it took you to prepare for the day. Every few minutes you’d get this almost overpowering urge to just go out there and throw yourself back into his arms.

It’s borderline pathetic. But now you’ve had him in your bed, his strong arms coddled around you, it’s very hard to not to be just that. His physical presence is perfect and comforting. You’re attached to that as much as any other aspect of him.

He puts on his pants, which were folded neatly on his own bedside table, plucking out the car keys in his pocket, “Im gonna nick down to my rental car, because I have an extra button up in there, so I’ll wear that out.”

He comes back and changes into said white button up, stripping his worn shirt off and leaving it somewhere.

Just like that, you’re ready to go, and you both decide to walk the short way there. It was too nice a morning to not.

The whole walk you’re chatting away as usual. But it’s paired with this newfound physical aspect. The way you so obviously want to be close it hurts.

Yet somehow you both act like it’s nothing. That the brushes of hands and shoulder as you’re in step beside each other is a simple coincidence.

And that when you get breakfast, the two croissants and shared cookie is just a friendly thing. In your head you’re even playing off the touching all throughout breakfast.

Which sounds dirty— but just the little conversational touches. Like a hand reaching out to touch a forearm in laughter, acting as if it adds something important to the moment being shared.

Or that somehow when you leave the cafe, with two takeaway cups of tea, the hands that end up interlinked softly between the two of you is just…

Well… who even knows anymore?

Because you’re walking through italy beside Harry— who is talking about his favourite kind of playground equipment, regardless of if he’s a near thirty year old man— all while holding your hand.

And to take a moment, because it’s important, his hands are everything they’re talked up to be. Littered with chunky rings and calloused fingertips from the years of guitar playing. Yet contrasted by his soft palms, which cups yours with this delicateness it almost brings a tear to your eye.

You also pray that your own hand isn’t sweating profusely in his grasp, because you wouldn’t put a clammy hand past yourself. The already humid weather paired with your anxiety surrounding this whole situation is quite literally the match made in hell.

Nothing about this can be passed off as casual to your brain anymore. You’re literally about to implode.

But you strive to hide it. So you solider on.

“I’m a seesaw girl okay. Hear me out—“

“No, I can totally see that!” He interjects, and you chuckle at his quick agreement to your statement.

“Right? They are so much fun. And even though I nearly took a tooth out playing on one when I was 7, I can still recognise they are superior.”

To that he laughs and bumps his shoulder into yours, “I mean I love that. I’m probably a swing person, I feel like no matter the age I will always be down for it.”

You can agree that a swing is a solid second favourite for you. And as you talk about that point with him, you don’t realise you’ve walked the whole ‘scenic’ route back to your hotel until you turn the corner and the entrance is around the corner ahead. And the way you went usually takes an extra 20 minutes.

It went so fast.

“Are you gonna head off or… come back up with me?” You ask gingerly, the hand not interlaced with his fiddling with the fabric of your clothing.

“Not sick of m’yet?”

“Never…” You shake your head, smiling as he gleams at your answer.

“M’flattered. The feelings mutual love,” he chuckles, “However I do have to go remind my family I’m alive. But it’ll only take about a day until they’re pleased for me to ditch them.”

Gently runs his thumb over your knuckles, whether it be subconsciously or not, “So tomorrow night ill come back over to yours for dinner if you y’want?”

You smile, a little sappy over the way he’s working a plan out like you’re both teenagers, “Yea, thats perfect, and we can try something else off the menu.”

“Maybe, if you want,” he begins carefully, “after that you can come over to where we’re staying. Meet my mum and sister. They’ll love you.”

Now you’re nearly bursting at the seems, “Oh, I would love that, H!”

“Okay, it’s a plan then.” He agrees, pulling his keys from his pocket.

You bid your farewells for the night, unlinking hands and being left with a tingling sensation in it, one that you wonder if he’s also getting.

You go to your hotel room and feel full with joy.

He is all too sweet for this world. And you’re a little obsessed.

———

Although Italy being in Italy feels like being in a bubble, and like you’re so far away from the real world, it is unfortunately a purely mental one.

And there’s one thing about a headspace like that, and it’s just how quickly it can be popped.

At midnight that night a notification pops up on your phone, one that when you open, you have to physically put your phone down.

harryflorals:

what do i even caption this post because is that who i think it is or am i officially delusional? “HARRY WITH A FAN FROM THE LAST SHOW, HOLDING HANDS IN ITALY!” correct me if I’m wrong YALL idek anymore.

And this time, there’s no grain saving your ass. Because this was taken on what, quality wise, looks like a digital camera.

Which has made it so painstakingly obvious that it’s you. And you don’t even remember it being taken?

It was when you were walking back from the cafe, holding hands probably talking about fucking seesaws.

And everyone has caught on fast, because in the comments it’s an all out frenzy.

So, cats officially out of the bag.

———

y’all can expect a part four considering i lowkey left this on a cliffhanger 😝 so its on its way my loves

update: next part, PART 4!

taglist:

@harrystylesgirlie @purple9950 @teamspideyman @rociolunaa21 @spiritofbuddha @lemonhrry @deamus-liv @Iquvlly @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @hsfanficsrecss @hsstylesrings @saturnheartz @victoriasigaard @lilfreakjez @mrsvxder @skxawngs @theekyliepage @hannah9921 @shiffpring @multifandomsw @roslastyles420 @slutforcoffein @kittenhere @stylesfever @butterfly-lover @daniizstyles @padf00ts-l0ver @sunflowervol18

+ all the anons who sent stuff to my submission box, thank you to you guys too, all my love

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #harry styles oneshot #hslot #love on tour #i just love finalshowrry #love u too #hopefully part four doesn’t take me also two weeks to write HAHA

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mayaflowerxs · 1 year

Note

hi hun, if you dont mind can you make a fic of jaemin being all crazy for y/n but it starts off with them just sexting n dry humping till he goes all crazy for her. btw! i loved the affair series would love to see dream ver. :)

CRAZY IN LOVE

Synopsis: It was stupid really, you were bored and treated the app as a joke. You just never would have thought the man you began sexting would be your best friends boyfriend and at that an obsession beginning to develop.

Warning: Smut / Fluffish? / Angst . Swear word usage, Serious!Jaemin x Shy!Reader. Toxic relationship, pick me best friend, cheating,TW! mention of suicide, conflicted feelings. Reader is a bit of a push over + character development. Takes place in college. Blue: Jaemin, Pink:Reader

A/N: Hi love! Hope you enjoy and thank u sm! I haven’t considered making one for dream but maybe after I’m done I may think about it!

Pairing: Jaemin x fem reader

You felt like a shit person. You hate fake people, players even and yet here you are doing the very thing you despise. Being bored isn’t a good enough justification for it, your interest was peaked the second you scrolled by the app in the App Store. A cold rainy day that left you alone, cold and in the dark of your dorm. Roommate was out doing god knows what, your best friend could never really be cooped up for long. The cold rain drops fell on your window that laid beside your bed. Tiktok wasn’t interesting, no movies on any movie platform seemed to catch your focus. Wednesday playing in the background for the sake of keeping the room completely dark and silent.

‘HEARTSTRING, the best most popular app for young adults ready for a relationship!’

What harm could it be if you tried out the app right? It’s not like anything bad could really come out of it.

“And so I was like, Beverly you have to stop shitting around and like fucking cut the chord. He’s not interested in you anymore. I mean yeah have we been having a bit of flirty banter here and there, sure but-“

The chitter chatter of his girlfriend talking his ear off began to muffle as Jaemin focuses his attention on his cell phone. He wasn’t exactly in the best mood, it’s fucking cold outside. His thick jacket he brought with now currently wrapped around his girlfriend because of the refusal she had to bring her own. Currently sitting inside a vegan restaurant and a $50 dish that isn’t all that appetizing and fulfilling. With an hour worth of talking of all the boring shit his girlfriend has to ramble about, he feels it’s the least bit understandable he’s decided to do something he wants to do. Be on his phone.

His social battery only down by its last percentage, a small frown on his face as he scrolls through his feed. Boring and bland, only a small story of Jeno’s in which him and the boys were currently playing the newest game. Months and months of hyping it up, waiting for its release and Jaemin is wasting his time on his 30th date. By now, his bank account is about ready to burst. A cry for help he swears he hears each time he picks up his wallet. Stopping midway scroll when an ad appears, ‘HEARTSTRING!’

Taking a quick glance up at his girlfriend and sees she’s still rambling on about girl drama as she continues to take pictures of her salad and posting them online. To say his relationship with Nayoung was perfect would be the furthest from the truth. If anything, he still doesn’t quite understand how he managed to get in the relationship in the first place. What was suppose to be a quick fling, resulted in Nayoung telling the entire school they were together. Her parents were quick in wanting to get to meet him, a very serious talk from her father had chills running up his arms. “Don’t you even dare hurt my little girl. You don’t know what I’m capable of son.” He’s tried to think of ways to get out of that situation but it’s only gotten worse when Nayoung got in touch with his parents. The thrill look on their faces when they were told their oldest son was finally in a committed relationship. Jaemin felt that maybe he would always be stuck.

And if that was the case, he might as well still have fun if he can’t walk away from her.

Setting up your account came to be really easy. You plan to delete the app by the end of the night, you’re not looking for something seriously and so far the app itself doesn’t look that serious either. It seemed everything was anonymous for the most part. With only using real descriptions and names, not personal pictures are to be added and instead icons. An app for anonymous chatting. For a while it seemed it was a scam, nothing good was happening other than the constant liking of each profile that propped up for you. You weren’t looking for anything specific, you just wanted to have a conversation and just as you were about to log out and delete it. A notification popped up.

na.jaemin0813 is typing…

Hey

Hello…

Did you get the app out of boredom as well?

It’s like we’re one mind

Guess we were meant to be ;)

Haha cheeky

You know it babe

So tell me, what’s your favorite conspiracy theory you can discuss for hours

Ooh getting serious are we?

Chatting with Jaemin didn’t seem so bad. In fact, you’ve come to enjoy your conversation with him, you didn’t expect it to go on longer than anticipated.

“Y/n im home!” You hear your best friend say as she closes the door behind her. Turning off your phone before you can receive the next message Jaemin was about to send you, a figure appears by your door way. “I’m fucking exhausted.” She huffs as she drops the many bags of clothes. A pout on her face as she slumps her shoulders. “Can you make me food, i am in a serious need of a bath.” “I still have some of my left over chicken Alfredo in the fridge-“ “You know I don’t eat left overs.” She makes a disgusted look, “Please! I’ll owe you.” She smiles before wandering off to her room. “You already owe me.” You mumble before getting out of bed and into the kitchen. The running water is heard a few minutes later with the sound of music playing soon afterwards. As you let the water boil for the pasta, you get back on your phone.

Where have you gone darling?

Already missing me ?

Given you’re someone who isn’t all that dry, who wouldn’t be?

So am I safe to assume you haven’t had great chats recently?

You’re the only one who hasn’t made the entire conversation about themselves and the many inconveniences in their lives

Ugh, those people are the worst.

The loud obnoxious singing of your best friend is what interrupted your conversation with him. Focusing back on her dinner as she spent the next hour an a half in the bath.

A sigh escapes Jaemin as he waits for the three dots to appear before exiting out of the app and moving on. The loud yelling of the guys are heard as he enters his dormitory. Busying themselves on whatever video game they’ve bought lately, “On your right!” Haechan exasperates. Taking the seat next to him, Jaemin had kicked off his shoes and rested them on top of the coffee table. “Oh you’re back!” He hears Jisung’s voice as soon as he entered the small living room. “Were you in my room?“. Shrugging his shoulders, he lifts up the cup of ramen in his hand. “You stash them in your room, finally found them.” “Yeah it’s exactly why I stashed them.” He shakes his head, hearing a notification from his phone he lifts it up only to frown when he sees it was Nayoung.

“I’m guessing the date didn’t go well?” Jisung asks. “She’s so high maintenance.” He sighs before closing his eyes and rubs his temple. “Why don’t you break up with her?” Haechan asks him, half of his attention on the flat screen tv. “Because if I break up with her, her father will break my face I thought I told you already?” “Oh right- move you fuck!” Getting off the couch, Jaemin walks over to the kitchen table and takes a seat keeping the maknae company.

Lets go out tomorrow!

Shutting his phone off, Jaemin doesn’t bother responding back. Mentally and socially drained to respond. “I’ll be in my room.” He murmurs not bothering to get a response back. The door to his room gets closed behind him, falling on his bed as he feels himself about to drowse off until he hears another notification go off.

So do you study?

Third year in college :)

Really? Where?

Seoul National University.

No way really? I go there too!

We should get together sometime.

Already desperate to get to know me?

Yeah well, I’d like to be able to see the face I’m talking to instead of a screen.

Mm I don’t know…

Oh come on, are you gonna make me work for it?

Yep

Meanie :(

As the days went by the two of you have constantly texted the other. To the point people began to notice, “why are you always on your phone?” You best friend half heartedly asked one day, on her own as she busies scrolling through her feed. Eyes rolling when she sees one of her ‘friends’ post a picture. “Told her she looked ugly in that photo, can’t believe she still posted it. Eh, A+ for confidence i guess.”

Peeking over her screen she frowns when she notices you didn’t even bother answering her question. Instead, a smile on your face as you continue to text Jaemin. It’s been an entire week since you downloaded the app, an entire week since you began texting Jaemin and a week since you’ve been this lonely looking person. It made Nayoung wonder, you were never this preoccupied with your phone. If anything you never used it mainly because you didn’t have much going other than movies and tiktok. But this, no this can’t be a romcom or TikTok’s doing. “Oh my god!”

Jumping back startled, you look at her shocked face. “You’re seeing someone!” Scoffing, you shake your head and set your phone down. “Am not.” “So why did you set your phone facing down. Mphm?” “I always do that.” Stopping momentarily, Nayoung can’t tell if you were telling the truth. Unlike you, she isn’t that observant, she can’t even remember your birthday and only hopes she hasn’t missed it yet. “Don’t change the subject! Now tell me, who is it.” “No one-“ Poking you with her chopsticks, she leans closer. “Now, now it’s been AGES since your last relationship and we both know how that ended. Just want to see how this one’s like” A small pang was felt in your heart, you didn’t like to remember it. Your last boyfriend only used you to get closer to Nayoung. It hurt to know he didn’t even like you not once throughout your relationship. Broken up with him and getting the reassurance from your best friend is what got you through it.

“He’s not like that-“ “Aha! So you are seeing someone!” Sighing, you smile shyly at her. “Not really seeing if I have never met him. We only started texting each other. It’s only been a week.” You say with a small smile. A ding is heard and you were quick to check, a small chuckle escapes you and you’re entire focus was now back on your phone. You miss the small scowl your best friend has on her face. She wondered who this boy was, how is it that you didn’t tell her when all of this was happening? A bitterness began to bubble inside of her but she keeps it on the low and instead grabs the dishes and puts them in the sink.

“I’m going out, me and Jaemin got a date.” She says loud enough for you to hear her. “K have fun.” You say lowly, eyes still on your screen. Giving you one last glance, she makes her way out.

“Jaemin, are you even paying attention to me?” She huffs annoyedly at her boyfriend. “Of course I am.” He quickly typed out his last text before looking up at her. Rolling her eyes, she huffs and crosses her arms. “Is this how you’re gonna be when you visit my parents?” “Visit?” “Of course, mom has been wanting you to come visit and so I promised her the next time I fly out I’d take you with me! My friend will be coming too of course, poor thing can’t see her parents. It’s this whole drama thing she’s got going on.” She shrugs. Great another weekend ruined.

“Alright see you then.” A grin forms on her face, leaning in for a kiss before she was long gone to do shopping with her friends. Rolling his eyes, Jaemin sits back on his bed and unlocks his phone. His finger hovered over the contact. He wondered what you were up to, he was bored and a little moody that you haven’t texted him yet. Scrolling through your last few messages that he’s noticed have gotten more flirtier over the course of time.

Whatcha doin?

Why, you miss me? :(

Don’t be a brat.

You love it

And you love teasing me smh

Still mad…?

You sent a pic of your boobs while I was in the middle of class

I had blue balls for the rest of the hour

So you don’t want more?

I want you.

Aw what a cutie

I’m not cute I’m hot

Would you like to see?

Photo Sent

The text messages progressively got more flirty, from pictures of abs and cleavages. You made sure your face was no where in view of the camera. You don’t know where this confidence came from. You never sent such pictures before, and yet never would you have thought to begin sexting a stranger you met online.

Fuck y/n, I need to see you.

I’m sure your hand can keep you company

Fucking meanie

;)

“Y/n! I need help packing I just bought new clothes and I need your help making an outfit out of them!” You hear Nayoung enthusiastically shout as she enters the dorm. Slamming the door behind you, opening the camera app you take one last pictures of your chest down, wearing a black corset with a push-up bra you notice Jaemin swoons over. Sending it before shutting your phone off.

A huff is heard as you watch Nayoung drop down all her bags filled with clothes. “Okay tomorrow morning we should be heading down to my fathers cabin alright?” Nodding, she leads you to her room. Two large suitcases are taken out of her closet as she begins taking down all her clothes from the hangers. Looking at herself through the body mirror as she makes distasteful noises each time she comes across an article of clothing she no longer likes.

Do you like torturing me?

Are you fisting yourself rn?

Kinda have no other choice…

Good, go faster for me will ya?

It’ll send you another picture of me. Maybe something more revealing…

“Y/n? You listening?” “Yeah!” Looking from her bed, a large pile of clothes as she poses in the mirror. She peeked through her mirror to see how engrossed you were with your phone. A small frown as she still doesn’t know much about this guy you’ve met. “Beige or cream?” Showing you a scarf she plans to wear, she pretend to think. “Cream, doesn’t wear out your face.” Smiling, she turns around and continues to check herself out. “So who exactly will be going?” Hearing the sound of another text coming from Jaemin, you take a peek to see he had sent a picture of his own.

“Oh just my parents, some childhood friends and my boyfriend. “ “Speaking of boyfriend, will I be meeting this boy you’ve been messaging?” She wiggles her brows. “Nope, I still haven’t met him yet.” You chuckle. “Huh..” she breathes out before posing in front of the mirror. “So how are things with your boyfriend?” you ask. “Things are great! I’m so happy to be with him, he’s so sweet look he even got me this necklace.” Showing you the Diamond necklace you nod, you didn’t know much about this guy. If anything you never met him. It’s ironic how much she’s mentioned him and yet has never said his name. You don’t know how old he is, how he looks. Just that he goes to the same college as the two of you. Nayoung has even tried her best to keep him from entering your dorm. For whatever reason it is, she doesn’t want him coming over. A bit secretive with him really.

“Okay are you packed?” Nodding she smiles. “God you’re so lucky, you don’t have a lot of clothes to choose.” She sighs “ Well, I better get to finishing you don’t have to help me anymore thanks.” Grabbing your phone you close the door to your room behind you and lock it. A gasp escapes you, eyes widening at the nude he sent.

You don’t beat around the bush do ya?

Gotta show you how much you’re affecting me

Cute

My dick is cute?

Your dick looks delicious actually

Then how about you come over n suck it

Yeah but I love torturing you so keep fucking your hand for now.

Damn woman

Jaemin shut off his phone after he seen you left him on read. He was frustrated. Sexually frustrated, it’s humiliating knowing how affected he is by you. He doesn’t care he’s currently humping his pillow pretending it’s you. Chest heaving, a sweaty forehead as he chases after his release. Never has he had to work for someone this much. He would’ve given up and moved on but how could he, something about you entices him. Makes his want more, to go after you no matter the cost. He loves your banter, he loves how much you tease it keeps him on his toes. His hand going faster and faster until finally he felt the warm white liquid fall on his fingers. In the corner of his dark room, he catches his breath. Receiving another message but only groaning when he sees it’s Nayoung.

Can’t wait for tomorrow!

To say you weren’t cranky would be a lie. You knew you’d be getting up early you just underestimated how early. Nayoung isn’t a morning person and to think she would be demanding you to get up at 3 in the morning was the last thing on your mind of possibilities. Sitting in the back of the car as Nayoung claimed she would be picking up her boyfriend on the way. You didn’t mind, if anything you’d be taking the time to catch up on some needed sleep. A large blanket over you, you don’t hear the door to the passenger seat open and close. A smack of lips kissing and a cheerful voice greeting him.

“Is this your friend?” Nodding, she looks back to see you asleep. “Yep, she went back to sleep. She spent all night texting some guy. Kinda starting to think he doesn’t exist.” Raising a brow at her as she whispered the last part. “Whys that?” Shrugging her shoulders, eyes on the road. “She hasn’t mentioned his name, refuses to let me meet him and anytime I ask about him she tries to change the subject.” Jaemin only hums before looking out the window, dark eye bags beginning to become apparent as he too wasn’t exactly in the best mood. His hair was still a bit disheveled and he was only running on two hours of sleep. Guess his girlfriends friend wasn’t the only one up all night texting.

By the time the three of you arrived, you woke up abruptly by the slamming of a door. “Come on y/n we’re here!” You hear Nayoung shout from outside. Stretching and getting out, you’re left with carrying in the rest of the stuff. The cabin was large, only visited a handful of times. Loud voices are heard from the kitchen as Nayoung busies herself greeting the family. Huffing when you drop Nayoung’s heavy luggage inside you bump into someone on accident. “I’m sorry!” Tall and standing before you, Jaemin props his glasses up. Dropping down his bags and sending you a forced smile. “It’s alright.”

“Oh y/n! This is my boyfriend Jaemin!” The two of you freeze. Watching as she walks over to hook her arm around his. A grin on her face as she cuddles close to him. It couldn’t be right? Looking over and seeing he as well seemed tense but he kept a calm face. “H-Hello.” Giggling, she shakes her head. “Always so shy. Jaemin?” Nudging him, he seems to snap out of it. Clearing his throat before doing a quick half assed bow. “Hey.” Looking between the two of you, she makes a face. “Well that wasn’t awkward, anyways. Mom and dad wants to see you so shall we get going? Oh and y/n sorry we didn’t have enough rooms you don’t mind crashing on the couch right?” Shaking your head she smiles. “Great! You can leave your things in my room, you know where they are right?”

Not waiting for a response she drags him into the kitchen where it erupts in greetings. Laughs and giggles are heard, taking a small peek you see her friends are also in there as well. Gawking at him as he respectfully greets them. Sighing, you grab your things and go up the stairs. “Hey y/n do you mind carrying the rest of our luggages? Please, thank you!” Nayoung shouts as you were half way up the stairs.

You felt left out you weren’t going to lie. But then again, when haven’t you. Nayoung has always made it easy to fit in, to make conversation even though most of the time the topic always shifted over to her but overall, it was easy for her to get involved. Not you, it took a while for you to barely start lowering your walls. Just the idea of forcing yourself out of your shell sends shivers. How can you? You get the feeling Nayoung’s childhood friends don’t really like you as they always stare and mutter things under their breaths. And like all the other times you visited, you spent your time on the couch petting the family cat. “I’m so happy he likes you. He hates people, if anything he still isn’t quite fond of Nayoung.” Her mother giggles as she takes the other couch. Staring lovingly at the two of you. A warm smile forms on your face as you continue to pet the cat sitting on your lap. Her husband walking over to sit next to her, a mug in his hand as he nods.

“Toby hates Nayoung for some reason. Even before she went off to college he’d always hide from her.” By then everyone has shifted themselves into the living room. The group surrounding Nayoung, the smile slowly drops when she sees her parents conversing with you. “You must be a gem if Toby trusts you that much.” Her mother claps her hands. Jaemin takes a seat across from you, fighting back the look of boredom on his face. He can’t help but analyze you. Can it be the same y/n he’s been texting? Since he’s arrived, he hasn’t had the balls to text her. There’s no way the chick he’s been sexting is his girlfriends best friend. If that’s the case, he’s screwed.

A scoff is heard from beside him, looking up and see Nayoung enter the living room. “He’s just a dumb cat. I’m sure he’s only using you as a cushion.” “Well if that’s the case, I’m honored.” You smile down at the cat who purrs. Jaemin notices the scowl on his girlfriends face. He wonders why, it’s not like she particularly likes Toby. Every time he’s come over she’s always going on and on about how the cat terrorizes everything. “You should be, and Jaemin too! Toby loves him!” Looking up and meeting eyes with Jaemin you gulp before looking down. A silence is met before Nayoung speaks up. “Well it’s still pretty early and I’m tired. Jaemin lets go to bed.” One by one, everyone walks off to their bedrooms which leaves you on the couch with the grey and white cat. Head butting your hand, a few hours go by and you haven’t gotten the heart to move him. The sleep drowsiness has disappeared and you made due on being on your phone for the time being. A notification is sent from your phone, Jaemin.

It’s you isn’t it?

I don’t know what you’re talking about..

“Yes you do.” Jumping up, you see him standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Holy shit you scared me.” By the sudden jolt, Toby has taken it upon himself to get off your lap and plop down on his cat tree. Walking closer to you, you shift uncomfortably. You don’t know what to do, what can you do to make things better?

Silently getting closer, you open your mouth to explain yourself but he cuts you off. Instead he takes a seat besides you and smashes his lips on top of yours. A moan emits from you, it was quick and needy and you liked it. You liked it so much you even climbed on top of him. His arms coming around your waist to pull you closer. He smelled nice, his cologne hitting your nostrils and lips were soft and plump. Cupping his face to keep his lips on top of yours. A smile forming on his face before pulling away, “So you were the one teasing me huh?” A blush began to form on your face before awkwardly laughing. “So you’re my best friends boyfriend huh.” Clearing his throat he looks down uncomfortably. “Listen, I’m not the type to cheat okay? It’s just that I kinda had no choice but to be in a relationship with her and-“

“She trapped you yeah I know, she has done that with all of her exes.” Raising a brow he looks up at you. “Really?” Nodding, you sigh. “She can’t keep a man for the life of her so she forces one on them by using her father to get them to agree. He’s rich and powerful, wouldn’t be surprised he’d have you kicked out of college or have you be fired from your job. Blacklisted for any future opportunities and more.” “If I’d known earlier I would’ve tried avoiding crossing paths. Why are you friends with her?”

“I don’t know, I guess she was the only one who stayed.” “Stayed? What happened if I may ask.” “I don’t know, one second I had tons of friends who could rely on me and the next, I was hated.” You look down sadly. Startled when he plants a kiss on your cheek, a grin on his face as his eyes adoringly stare at you. “I’m glad I finally met you.” “I’m glad too-“. Reciprocating his kiss, you begin to grind on top of him. A groan from him only has you doing it again and again. Pushing him down on the couch as his hands roam all over your body. Piece by piece, clothes are scattered on the floor and heavy breathing gets louder. Your head is thrown back when you feel yourself stretch around him. A large hand going to cover your mouth. Leaning in, his mouth attaching itself onto your nipple and sucking. Sensitive, you begin to bounce on his lap. Hands on his chest as he guides you to go faster. Trying to keep the slapping sounds at bay. The feeling of him deep in your snatch had your head spinning, it truly has been a while since you’ve had sex. It was wrong that the first person you sleep with is your best friends boyfriend but you just love it so much.

And it seems you’re not the only one. For the remainder of the weekend the two of you have gotten closer. Sneaky glances thrown and secret meet ups. When in the kitchen alone, he smacks your ass before leaving a kiss on your cheek. A shit eating grin on his face when he meets with the others. Content he’s finally getting you back for all the teasing you’ve done. “Are you alright y/n? Your face is super red?” Nayoung’s mother says. “Probably a bad reaction to one of her creams. I keep telling her she doesn’t have to keep putting on so many products. Going natural is just as pretty.” Nayoung sends you a smile. Speaking up for you, a strong grip on your fork, you don’t bother to explain yourself. “I’m okay.”

Jaemin certainly didn’t like it. And he certainly didn’t like how easily you let her comment slide. “I try to say the same thing to you as well Nayoung. No reason you need fifty bottles of foundation. A day or two without it wouldn’t hurt babe.” He sends her a smile before taking a bite from his food. Tensing, Nayoung is left without words. Embarrassed by the looks her friends sends her. A scowl on her face as she desperately tries to change the subject. “So! Should we hit the beach later on?” “Yes!” Her friends clap. “Okay good! After we’re done we’ll pick out our bikinis!”

Bikini’s? Nayoung never mentioned there would be swimming involved? You didn’t even pack any clothes to get wet in. The closest thing you had were shorts and even then they weren’t comfortable to get wet with.

“It’s a bummer you can’t get in.” Nayoung pouts at you, watching you set your towel on the sand. Sunglasses on as you send her a reassuring smile. “Eh it’s okay, I’ve gotten too much sun anyways-“. “Yeah you’re looking a little dark, how about you stay under my moms umbrella for the time being okay? Hope you don’t get too bored!” She says before scurrying off to her friends. Clenching your jaw, you try to not let her words affect you. Has she always been this snakey? Or is this you trying to justify your actions for hooking up with her boyfriend. Surely she must’ve always been this terrible to you from the beginning.

“Come on.” “Huh?” Looking over and seeing Jaemin has his hand extended you raise a brow. “Where?” “Less questions and more walking, come on.” Allowing him to drag you away, he takes you to a near by store. “Bikini’s?” “Get one, it’s on me.” “You don’t need to-“ “I want to, besides I need to get sunscreen.” He wonders off for it, and as he does so you look around the store. Eyes straying on a red two piece, you go to the fitting rooms and liking the look of it on you. Getting out, Jaemin freezes when he sees you. “How do I look?” Checking to see if anyones watching, he pushes you inside and closes the door behind him. Dropping the bottle of sun cream and picking you up. Leaning you up against the wall he desperately connects your lips with his. Running a hand through his hair, he begins to dry hump you. A moan comes out of you that he muffled with his mouth. A hand coming to wrap around your neck and lightly squeeze. “Fuck you’re so hot.” His pupils dilated as he leans in and press kisses to your chest.

Pulling the top down to reveal your perky tits. Sucking and fondling with them, looking to the side and seeing the mirror reflecting the lewd actions he’s doing. “We should get going, don’t want to raise suspicion.” You tell him with heavy breathing. Reluctantly detaching himself from you and setting you down. “Don’t change.” Grabbing your clothes and lotion, the two of you walk out and make your way to the counter. Ripping off the tag and handing it to the cashier as he pays for it. By the time the two of you make your way back, you hear shouting. “Babe where have you been?” Nayoung gets closer. “Needed sunscreen and got y/n a bathing suit.” Eyes turning to look at you, the plastic smile ready to falter. “Oh! How nice..well come on let’s get in the water feels nice!” She goes for his hand but he takes a step back.

“Yeah I will in a bit, you should join the others they seem pretty lost with out you.” Looking back and seeing her friends looking bored without her. “Oh okay. Glad you can join us after all y/n.” She sends you a smile before going back in. Feeling a tug, you look down and see Jaemin had taken his shirt off. “Help me put sunscreen on yeah?”

You can practically feel the daggers being thrown at you. But you ignored it, you liked making her jealous. A part of you felt proud you had the upper hand than Nayoung. Even more that it’s with her boyfriend. Turning around, you put some on his chest. Running your hands over his abs, his eyes looking directly into yours. “I really badly need to fuck you.” Rolling your eyes, you go to walk away but he stops you. “Now y/n.”

“Are you seeing this?” One of Nayoung’s friends says as they all watch Jaemin slowly put on sunscreen on you. Going up your leg and too close to your ass. “I knew it was a mistake to introduce them.” She scoffs. “Come on hun, do you really think he’ll do anything with her?” “It’s not him I’m worried, poor girl is so deprived I worry she’ll do anything for attention.” She pouts. “Don’t worry, Jaemin’s too smitten for you. He’d never be unfaithful to you.” Smiling she turns over to her friends. “Thanks guys, besides we’re really strong.” “So strong that should we assume he’ll pop the question anytime soon?”

Nodding they squeal. “I’m sure he already has the ring set out for me.” She claps her hands.

“Jaemin anyone can walk in on us any second!” You smack Jaemin’s bicep, currently in a dark small closet the cabin had he had managed to cramped you two inside. It was loud outside, music blasting as the others conversed with one another. Luggages were being packed and dinner was being cooked. In a few hours you were meant to be making your way back home and instead, have a clingy boy stuck to your side. A grin on his face as he leans in and kisses you. “Need you…” he pouts as he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck. Hands beginning to roam down your side and to your back. Biting your lip when you feel him squeeze your ass, gasping when you feel his bulge after he pulled you closer to him.

“No one will hear us mhm?” He breathes in your ear as he peppers your neck. Massaging your cheeks as he has you pinned against the wall. You can’t ignore the arousal in your pants but it didn’t stop you from worrying of being potentially caught. “No sir.” Pushing him away, you reach for the door knob. Feeling him pull you inside again roughly when Nayoung’s faint voice was heard going up the stairs. “I have no idea where he went.” She tells her friends. “I bet he’s with y/n again. They have been way too close.” “I’m sure he feels bad, I mean she is the odd one out.” Nayoung reasons. “She’s a loner Nayoung, girls like her use that to reel men in.” Clenching your jaw, you don’t notice Jaemin wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Ignore them.” He whispers into your ear. Once you were sure they had left, you don’t utter a word and merely walk out. Leaving him in the closet by himself.

Nayoung always assumed she’d be the first to seal the deal between the two of you. The first to have a boyfriend, to be engaged and to start a family. Unlike her, you didn’t grow up with a lot so she always had more than you. The advantages like starting her own independent life. You had to start from scratch, lots of hours working for you to save. It’s what the world admired about you. It’s what they respected you for, many could relate to you. And even through all the hardships you still smiled. You stayed optimistic and it’s why you had so many friends, why so many guys wanted your number instead of Nayoung’s.

“I’m sorry I’m not interested.” “Actually I wanted to see if you can give me your friend, y/n’s number.”

For a while it seemed like Nayoung was the forgotten one. It was all about her friend Y/n. What you were up to, how you were doing. She just wanted to see what the fuss was about in having so many people care about you. So the cosmetics came in, then the surgeries, the hard diets. But when they weren’t enough, the lies came in.

“Oh sure, but I have to say she’s currently going through something. Chlamydia actually.”

She didn’t mean for the lies to keep progressing but she just wanted to take some of the attention off you and divert it over to her.

“She thinks you’re a freak.”

She did feel bad though when people eventually began to hate you. And before she knew it, she was the only friend you had left. Boys avoided you and girls despised you. Your last boyfriend only cheated on you because Nayoung lied to him saying you had cheated on him.

“I guess she thought you just weren’t good enough, I don’t know what to tell you. But, if I were her I would know I made a big mistake. You’re a catch.” Her hand lays on top of his, a reassuring and innocent smile plastered on her face before leaning in and kissing him.

For years now she was finally on the other end, the one who everyone praised and idolized. And a part of her liked how she can control you, it felt nice to be better for once. And seeing how close you and Jaemin have gotten definitely hasn’t been putting her at ease.

During dinner she made sure Jaemin sat next to her and away from you. Served him and kissed him at unconventional times. By the end of the night it seemed she was utterly in love with him, which is why she just had to rub it in just a little deeper into your face. “I’m going to tell him I love him.” Taking you by surprise, you suppress any distasteful emotion. “That’s great! I’m sure he’ll feel the same.” He won’t. You’re sure of that. “I want to live with him y/n.” Widening your eyes, “Live together? But what about dorms? It’s still mandatory to be in one and you can’t exactly room with a guy.”

“Only for a few more months.” Sighing and sitting back on the couch she smiles dreamily. “I’m telling you, he’s the man of my dreams.” You didn’t have much to say. Which only made you more guilty with how you’ve been treating her behind her back. It seemed she really did like him, after all she has been stuck by your side when everyone else turned against you. “Then tell him how you feel.”

“We can’t keep doing this.”

It’s been three months since the visit to Nayoung’s parents. Three months since you said you’d stop hooking up with him and finally today you’d be calling it off. “Like hell you are, what the hell y/n. Where is this coming from?” A duvet wrapped around your body, you sit up on the bed. Messy hair with smeared makeup as you don’t even dare meet eyes with Jaemin. With only briefs on, he gets out of bed. Disheveled hair, muscles more prominent and the red marks you left on him still apparent. Lip stains on his neck with dark love marks going down his collar bone. A frown on his face as he demands an explanation, even when he’s upset he’s still breathtakingly attractive. “It’s not right.” A sarcastic laugh falls out of his mouth as he searches for his clothes.

“You’re finally realizing that after months?” Looking at you for any other answers, he drops his shirt on the bed and climbs back on. Cradling your face, he looks at you worriedly. “Talk to me baby, what’s wrong?” Feeling the tears beginning to form, you shrug him off. You don’t trust your voice, there’s a ball beginning to form and you know if you dare speak a work you’ll only sob. About to get out of bed, he grabs you by the waist. “No, you’re not running way again. Talk to me-“ “Jaemin you’re in a relationship with Nayoung! She loves you and even wants to live with you and here we are having sex!”

“She’s not you!” Looking away, he huffs and wraps his arms around your torso. “I love you.” Taken by surprise, you turn to face him with wide eyes. “Come again?” “I’ve never said that to any of my exes, and it sucks that this is the situation that we are in but, im not lying. I love you, not Nayoung. It’s why I didn’t say it back when she said it to me.”

“Really?” Smiling, he nods and leans in for a kiss you grant him happily. “I still think it’s wrong. Maybe if we confess then she will let you go. Yeah it will permanently ruin our friendship but you at least deserve your freedom.” Shaking his head he sighs. “It’s her father i’m worried for.” Feeling dejected, you let him pull you into a cuddle. Back under the sheets as he peppers your face in kisses. Until there’s a loud slam on the door, eyes widening Jaemin lifts a finger to his mouth. Your door was locked thankfully.

“Let me check if she’s home…hey y/n! You home?!” Knocking on the door and trying to open it but to no avail. Shaking his head, he covers your mouth. “Guess she’s not home.” She says, she must’ve brought someone. Getting up to change, you can’t but overhear her speak.

“Can’t believe you’re still friends with her after everything she did.” Confused, you lean your ear up gassing the door. “Well I mean, she’s my best friend-“ “Yes but she cheated on her boyfriend.”

Cheated?

“She didn’t know what she was doing.”

Why the hell is Nayoung agreeing?

“Yeah well what about her bullying you?”

You looked back at Jaemin in shock as he as well seems surprised.

“That was years ago, she’s getting better.”

You didn’t understand why Nayoung was agreeing with such false claims. You have never cheated on your boyfriend nor have you ever bullied Nayoung.

“Well at least she got her karma right?” The girl snorts. “Getting chlamydia, having all the guys lose interest in her and having no friends- well except you. I must say I admire you. I don’t know how you put up with such a mess.”

“I try my hardest.” You hear her giggle. “She’s a loner and a social freak, the least I could do is make sure she has at least a companion or who knows she might just end it all.” “Are you saying she’s suicidal?” “I’m saying who knows! You never know what people are thinking now a days.”

Your heart broke. All those accusations weren’t real and to think more people thought they were true hurt even more. You didn’t even realize you began to cry until you felt Jaemin wipe a tear away. They chatted for a few minutes before leaving and by then you have sat yourself down against the door. “Why would she lie?” You ask to no one.

Jaemin stayed quiet. Arms crossed and a clenched jaw, he immediately understood what Nayoung had done. “Isn’t it obvious?” Looking up at him with red swollen eyes you shake your head. “She spread false rumors about you!” “What why?”

“Come on baby.” Crouching down, he pulls a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re gorgeous, sweet, smart. You’re everyone’s type.” “Are you saying she did it out of jealousy?” Scoffing you shake your head. “No, Nayoung is the pretty one. Everyone wants her.” “I don’t. I want you.” “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” You scoff. “Okay then let’s talk to your ex.” “What why?” “Because we both know the cheater in your past relationship wasn’t you.” The memory still hurt. You never did find out who he cheated on you with only that he was ‘much happier’ and that you weren’t shit to him anymore.

“You’re wasting your time.” Shaking his head, he pulls out his phone and begins to search for his account. “What are you planning to do.” “We’re going to pay him a little visit. Come on let’s get dressed.”

“I don’t think this is such a good idea-“ Cutting you off by giving you a kiss, he gives you a smile. “Just hold my hand, he does anything to hurt you I promise I’ll kick his ass.” Walking into the cafe, you immediately spot your ex. Deep eye bags adorned his face, his hair was longer and dead. He looked much scrawnier and almost exhausted even. Taking a seat in front of you, you don’t have the words to even greet him.

“Y/n. Jaemin.” He speaks.

“What can i do for you.”

“The truth.” Jaemin cuts to the chase. Quirking his brow, he leans forward. “The truth?” “Who did you sleep with?” Jaemin tells him sternly. Scoffing, he chuckles dryly and shakes his head. “Why am I hearing an accusingly tone. Shouldn’t we start with who y/n slept with first?”

“I didn’t sleep with anyone.” You speak up.

“Right. Like I believe that-“

“Did Nayoung tell you anything.” Jaemin cut him off. “Nayoung helped me realize I was wasting my time on her.” He glares at you. “Did she tell you she was cheating?” Staying quiet, his face falls. “Why do you care?…wait aren’t you her boyfriend.” His jaw clenched and he sits up straighter.

“So you’re the guy she dumped me for.” Eyes widening, you look at him. “Nayoung was the girl you slept with?” Scoffing he shakes his head. “I didn’t sleep with her we only kissed.” He huffs. “She told me you cheated on me, she comforted me and we kissed. She had me to believe she wanted to be with me but when I broke things off with you she ghosted me.” The two of you send each other looks, “Why? Was that not what really happened?…”

You felt betrayed. You wonder how long has it been since she’s been a snake to you.

“She told me you kissed my boyfriend.”

“She said you had chlamydia.”

“I heard her say you were mentally unstable.”

You wanted to believe it was all a lie but it made sense why everyone suddenly avoided you like the plague. No one daring to befriend you or ever ask you out. You were sure you’d die a loner if it wasn’t for Nayoung and now you come to find out you were put into this situation because of her.

You couldn’t stop your heart from squeezing in agony. The friend you considered a sister you cared for so deeply had ruined your life out of what? Spite? Jealousy? Fun even?

The guilt you had building in you disintegrated almost instantly. You don’t have quite the perfect idea as to how you plan on getting even with her, how you’re going to help Jaemin get out of his god forsaken relationship with her, how you’re going to let the world know just how a trashy person she really is but you do know one thing, if you’re going to keep sleeping with her boyfriend you’re going to do it without a care in the world. Holding hands together literally behind her back when the three of you go out for ice cream, his subtle hand on your thigh when you go to the movies. The glances you give one another when you two had no other choice but to be dragged by her at a fancy restaurant with friends. Having sex in the parking lot after making an excuse to leave early. Making out while she’s showering and even sexting each other with her around. You no longer cared, and instead it made you just a tiny bit better knowing Nayoung no longer had it all,

“They completely cut me out and I don’t know why! Can you believe that?! After everything I did for them they have the audacity to treat me like dirt? And that’s not even mentioning the weird looks I’ve been receiving from guys. It’s like I’m infected or something.” No but rumors are you caught a case of syphilis

BUZZ…

Come over, I need you now.

Photo Sent

You were finally taking your life back from her. Piece by piece.

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