#I nabbed this on my phone before she got down and it looks like a setup. Like a painting wth
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A good girl keeping her eye on the reptile enclosures
#I nabbed this on my phone before she got down and it looks like a setup. Like a painting wth#I didn’t even crop it it was just like that. She’s flexing her foot bc I petted her beforehand so she was half making biscuits in the air.#It makes her look so elegant tho. Work it smudge#thrush laughs#thrush snaps#cats#catblr#calico#smudge#cute cats#‘Keeping her eye on the reptiles’ the joke is she only has one eye#cell phone photography
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A Thirsty Trap (Wonze x GN Reader)
You took a sip from your drink after finishing your 30 min run in the treadmill. Controlling your breathing and leaving the home gym, you made with the help of your girlfriends Lucy and Keira, you went to the kitchen and pulled out one of the pre made meals and started to heat it up as you took a sit on the couch. You started to relax as you started to swipe through Tiktok. You knew Lucy and Keira were on way back from training. Whilst Real Madrid players weren't training today.
You sheepishly smile as you see some videos you been tagged on. The normal edits, appreciation and thirst trap edits of you. You appreciated the videos fans made, it made you feel appreciated and inspire others.
As you scrolled you sure a montage of Keira's passing. You smiled at your cute girl as a though came into your mind.
You clicked on the search bar and typed "Keira Walsh thirst trap" and clicked in the first video
You cheeks got red as you sheepishly smiled at the clips of you girlfriend. Slightly embarrassed that you just looked up a random video of your awkward angel. Her cuteness always made ou happy and love her even more. One clip was showing Keira's tattoo on her side.
You couldn't help but keep look at her tattoo on her side. She likes it one you traced it and pecked the outline of it you bit your lip in thought. You shook your head and swiped up only to see her in her sports bra. You immediately swiped up only to be met with a Wonze one. You starred at your girls with love but you were missing their touch. It's been a while sine you three have done anything in the bedroom.
You watched the video and looked at your gf, figure, hair, eyes and tattoos. You bit your lip. You looked around. It wouldn't be too bad to do something about it. You looked at the video and slid. Your hand down your shorts. Just about to touch
Then you feel arms from behind hook around your neck
"Aw I thought that was my job" You went red face with embarrassment as you heard Lucy's voice
"Maybe you have been slacking, Luc," You hear Keira say as she sat across from you. You look up at the hurt face of Bronze until she glanced at the phone and dropped her mouth in surprise and nabbed your phone
"LUCY!"
"You little perv," She said jokingly as she made her way to Keira. "No wonder they couldn't control themselves," she said smugly. Keira looked at it with interest until she giggled and looked at you with a cheeky grin. Making you hide your face with a pillow "Guess we are just too much for them" Keira snorted "Babe" she tapped Lucy's thigh and held the phone up to her "Look who she searched" Lucy frowned and took it and saw what you searched. You begin to slowly walk to the down. Lucy's frown turned to an offended look before looking at you. Noticing you had shoes on and the door half way open.
"When I catch you, you're not gonna be able to walk, let alone get out of bed tomorrow." Keira bit her lip. She liked when you were like this.
"Good luck, dodgy knee," you bravely said before bolting out of the house. "GET BACK HERE BRAT!"
#lucy bronze#male reader#football imagine#england football#imagine#female reader#woso community#gn reader#barcelona femeni#lucy bronze imagine#keira walsh x reader#keira walsh imagine#keira walsh#wonze#wonze x reader
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my house of stone, your ivy grows - yoongi x reader
chapter three
table of contents
masterlist
join the taglist
summary: yoongi carried himself with a sense of pride within himself and his belongings. he worked hard to get to where he was- ethically or not, it made him the man he is today. his latest toy, a young college girl from america, will become his magnum opus. he just needs to work out the kinks.
tags/warnings: mafia au, kidnapping, daddy dom!yoongi, smut, autistic!reader, spanking, stockholm syndrome, little!jimin, vminhope, drug mention, namjin, fluff, domestic discipline, age gap
Yoongi laid out on Namjoon and Seokjin's couch, eyes glued to his phone as he watched Kiwo's location move as she walked around the city. The man was so focused he could barely hear Namjoon's sigh from across the room.
"Hyung, it's been two weeks now," Namjoon stated, tired of Yoongi's newest obsession. "Two weeks and you've only talked to her once."
While Namjoon was right, he had only spoken to her one time, he had followed her around her college campus numerous times. He knew her classes, what route she takes to them, and where she and her friends hang out. He needed to see her at least once a day to feel complete.
"Why don't you just take her? Like just swoop her off the street. You know where she is." Seokjin chimed in. Yoongi thought about that. He could just force her to be his.
"I don't want to make her hate me." Yoongi blandly said, his focus still on Kiwo's whereabouts. She was rather far away from the Yonsei campus for it being nearly nighttime. She was walking back from a museum and was about a half-hour bus ride away from her dormitory.
"We'll just have one of the grunts do it," Seokjin suggested, "like, I don't know, Kang?"
"I thought we liked Kang?" Namjoon asked his boyfriend, looking over at him with confusion.
"That's exactly why we trust him with this," Seokjin smiled over at Yoongi, "only that best for my little Yoongs."
Yoongi glared over at Seokjin at being called the cutesy nickname. The elder did have a point. Yoongi wanted her and wanted her now. Kang could easily nab her off the street and bring her to him. But then what would they do? He knew she wouldn't come easily, so Yoongi would have to majorly control her and get her to settle into her new life.
Yoongi sighed before shutting his phone off. "She'll be at Yeonhui Junction in 20 minutes. Have him meet her there."
Yoongi sat in silence in his bedroom. The room was dark, with the only light emitting from the lamp next to his bed. He waited for Kiwo to be brought in, and the chaos that should be. Her screaming would break the silence, and Yoongi had to think of a plan to keep her docile. Perhaps he could keep her tied up for the night, or threaten her into silence.
While lost in his thoughts, the bedroom door busted open to reveal Kang carrying a tied-up Kiwo. There was a blindfold over her eyes, and what seemed to be Kang's tie wrapped around her face, covering her mouth and preventing her from screaming too loud. Her arms were neatly tied up in front of her, and her ankles were zip-tied together. Yoongi was surprised at just how quiet she was, and Kang picked up on his confusion.
"I had to drug her when I got her in the car. She's super sneaky and agile and kept getting up from off the car floor and tried to open the car door multiple times," Kang said, walking over to Yoongi's bed to place the passed-out girl down. "She should wake up in the early hours of tomorrow."
Yoongi dismissed the grunt with a nod and wave of the hand. Soon enough, it was just him and Kiwo. He softly sat down on the bed next to the passed-out girl. She wore a large sweatshirt and leggings and had her hair up in a high ponytail. At some point, she must have lost her shoes, as her pink and blue socks were fully visible.
Not knowing what exactly to do, Yoongi readjusted her in the bed so she was laying properly. He gently removed her hair tie, allowing her hair to flow out. Very carefully, he laid her head down on the pillow and just stared. He truly couldn't believe this was real.
She was his.
Yoongi removed the tie from her mouth, allowing him to see her pretty pink lips. He played with her hair and lightly traced his fingers along her face. She was real. Her chest moved slightly up and down with each deep breath, and her mouth was slightly open and pouted like a baby's, allowing soft breaths to escape.
God, Yoongi was whipped.
Fingers moved down to her wrist, tracing over the tight red paracord that bound her hands together. It dug into her skin, leaving bright red imprints on her pale skin. Grabbing the pocket knife he kept in his jeans, Yoongi carefully cut through the cord and removed it from her wrists. The blindfold and ankle ties remained, and Yoongi was unsure whether or not to get rid of them. He knew she would be dangerous and try to escape as soon as she woke up, and these precautions would be better than none. But at the same time, Yoongi wanted her to be comfortable and remain asleep even after the drug's effect ended.
Ultimately, Yoongi decided to cut the zip tie from around her ankles and remove the blindfold. Kiwo squirmed in her sleep, turning her body ever so slightly to lay on her side. Yoongi paused in fear of her waking up. When he deemed it safe, he carefully removed himself from the bed and headed towards the bedroom door.
He noticed Kiwo’s backpack had been placed right next to the door. Picking it up, Yoongi rummaged through its contents to see what exactly was in it. It held some textbooks and notebooks, a cute pen set, some money, her laptop, and her phone. A rather normal school bag. Deciding what was best to do with it, he brought it down the hall to his office.
The laptop and phone were promptly reset and turned off, just out of safety reasons. He then placed it on the very top shelf of the tall bookcase. Kiwo was rather short, even shorter than Yoongi, so she would never be able to reach that high.
Yoongi returned to the bedroom to find Kiwo cuddled up in the comforter and her thumb in her mouth. The older man nearly died of a heart attack at the sight- it was simply too cute, exactly what he was looking for in a young girl. A childlike persona, a Little some may say. Jungkook often teased him in his rather juvenile preferences, but Yoongi knew the youngest would pounce at the soonest opportunity to experience a girl like Kiwo. Young, naive, innocent. She was perfect for Yoongi.
Yoongi went to the opposite side of the bed next to Kiwo. Sneakily, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into his chest. He expected her to wake up at the sudden invasion of privacy, but she cuddled in nicely into Yoongi.
Oh god, Yoongi thought, this girl will be perfect.
#bts fanfic#yoongi x reader#min yoongi#mafia au#bts little space#kim namjoon#kim seokjin#jung hoseok#park jimin#kim taehyung#jeon jungkook#bts#vminhope#namjin#my house of stone your ivy grows
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summary: steve comes to your rescue after a bad date
notes: unrelated to this blurb but someone please indulge me and my thoughts about clarinet player steve
You tried to stay on the parts of the sidewalk covered by the roof and shielded from the rain. You were cold, upset, and embarrassed, and you didn't want to add being soaked to that list. You were supposed to be on your second date with Tommy at the diner, but about 45 minutes after the time he'd said, you abandoned hope of him showing up. It was drizzling, and you had already gotten a few drinks trying to wait out the rain. Now it was 2 hours past and you were outside by the pay phone with a fistful of change from the bus boy.
You paused at the phone, thinking of who to call. Your mom was still at work having dropped you off before her shift. You quickly slipped in a quarter and pressed in the next number to come to mind.
“Hello?”
“Steve?”
You both paused, having started at the same time. “Y/n?”
“Hey, are you busy right now?” You heard shuffling over the line and when Steve answered he sounded clearer than before. “No, I'm not. Is everything okay? Didn’t you have that date today?”
“Could you come pick me up? I'm outside that diner by the arcade, I would just walk but it's raining and I don’t have a jacket.” You heard the clinking from his keys before he answered. “Yeah of course, I'll be right there, okay?” Steve waited for an affirmation from you before hanging up. You stood for a moment before putting the phone back, pulling the sleeves of your sweater down to cover your hands.
If you were reading the clock right through the window, it took Steve six minutes to make the ten minute drive from his house to the diner. You were making your way off the sidewalk before he finished pulling in, quickly opening the door and dropping into the passenger seat with a sigh.
"Funny seeing you here," Steve joked and you let out a breathy laugh.
“Hi, I'm sorry,” you rushed out with a glance at him, noticing his smile drop a bit, “My mom needed the car today so she just dropped me off and I got stuck in the rain.”
“Don't worry about it, here,” he reached into the back and handed you his old basketball hoodie. “Think I have a pair of sweatpants somewhere too, and I might have snacks in the glovebox if Dustin didn't nab them all.”
Steve fussed with the radio while you slipped your sweater off and Steve’s hoodie on, waiting for him to ask.
“So what happened with your date? This was the second one with this guy?” You sighed again, and Steve stared at the side of your face, watching you relax into the seat.
“First one wasn't great. I told you already how he just talked about himself the whole time but I figured I'd give it another try.” You paused and Steve stared at you expectedly. “And?”
“And he was supposed to be here two hours ago.” You gave Steve a sad smile. “I know I didn't do anything but I don't know what's wrong with me that I have such bad luck with guys.”
You weren't lying. You knew you hadn't done anything that would warrant getting stood up, or any of the other slights you'd experienced in the last few months from dates. But there was a small part of you, an evil little voice in the back of your mind, yelling that you must be at fault for how you've been treated. That there must be something about you that gets you treated like this.
Steve shook his head at you. “Guys are just douchebags.” You chuckled
“Look, it's not too late,” Steve’s hand moved to take the car out of park. “Let's go catch a movie and I’ll get you the popcorn with all the butter how you like it. Show you how a real date's done.”
You turned to the window so he couldn't see how hard you were smiling.
#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington thoughts#steve x reader#steve harrington#steve x you
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☞ + Iceman
A soft lick at his hand had Bobby starting, looking around for a moment before he thought to glance down, smiling a little as he saw Hank's little pup staring up at him.
"Hey, Sassy."
She let out a yap, and the man of ice with a completely gooey, soft heart couldn't help but reach down and pick her up, scritching at the exact same places he'd seen his best friend scritch for maximum puppy happiness - and though he didn't have Hank's claws, it certainly seemed to do it for Sassafras.
But though the affection and soft eyes of a dog can be bought for a time with scratches, they can only do so much to assuage the feeling of missing someone who's been gone for a little too long. Sassy was the first to break, whimpering softly as she butted her head into Bobby's arm, and he sighed, petting her gently.
"Yeah, I know, I miss him, too. Don't worry, he said he was only going to do another three universities, then he'd be back home. All right? All right? C'mon, pooch, you can't be dragging us both down like this."
There was a sudden, electronic staccato from the phone on the coffee table beside him, and without even thinking, Bobby grabbed it and put it up to his ear.
It really could have been anyone - someone from Worthington Industries, Southern International (did Moondragon have anyone who would want to catch up by phone?), or even just a cold caller - but he just needed someone to talk to, about all the fundamentally weird stuff he'd gone through, going back home.
Well. Not like he was going to tell all those people about Oblivion and Marge, of course, but - okay, fine, he was hoping it was Hank, so he could just, talk to him about it, get the resident egghead to make sense of it all. He'd tried to talk about it with Warren, but he'd just kinda stared at him the instant he tried explaining the part about going back to the 1940s and meeting his parents as young adults.
Oh yeah, phone.
"Ahoy hoy?"
"Robert, m'lad!"
Bobby suddenly broke out into a smile.
"Hey! Hank! Listen, I've been hoping you'd call, I was wanting to talk to you about - "
Hank cut through, as gently as he could manage, but there was an excited edge to his voice, and it all but bulldozed Bobby's want to talk, especially since he was just so darned happy to hear him speak.
"Sorry, Bobby, but I don't have a ton of time to conflab - my agent managed to nab me another four universities on the ol' lecture tour! Great news, right? Another $12k in the bank! D'ya mind letting everyone on the team know I'm gonna be out for a little while longer?"
"Oh. Yeah, sure, I can do that."
"Thanks, Bobby! Listen - I gotta grab my next flight, it's all a little ad-hoc at the moment, but I've got time for - maybe five minutes? What did you want to talk about?"
Bobby swallowed.
"Nah, it's. It's nothing. Tell it to you when you get back."
"Well, if you're sure - ?"
"I'm sure, Hank. Bye." He hit the end call button harder than he needed to, and dropped the phone back onto the dock with a grumble.
". . . C'mon, Sassy, let's let everyone knows what's up . . ."
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Ok 1 love the new lay out! I love the shade of yellow you used! I hope this works out for you
Secondly. Would it be ok if I could get itadori headcannons for an s/o with ADHD who just had a sensory overload? If that's too confusing I'll take one with him with an s/o with four cats (yes I have four now)
Thanks so much! I hope so too- fingers crossed 🤞 and I’d absolutely love to! Ngl in my mind Itadori absolutely has a touch of ADHD so how about we do a little of both!(kinda written as AU-ish. No mentions of jjh or anything so take it as you like)
Warnings: anxiety mention, some crying
Itadori is used to your general adhd symptoms- and the two of you bounce off of each other a lot when it comes to daily tasks. You’ll get lost is an ever-growing list of little things that lead to other little things which lead to even more little things that all need doing- chores, tasks, assignments, reports, whatever. The whiteboard you’ve begun using as a to-do list is getting more chaotic by the hour and every time you pause to look at it, that feeling of exhaustion creeps closer and closer upon you, threatening to immobilize you completely.
But Itadori? He has this amazing knack for showing up just in time to catch you before you completely give up on the day. He nabs a task or chore just trying to help out and, before either of you know it, he’s finished half the things you started and got sidetracked from finishing. And there’s quite a few times that you’ve done the same for him! It’s a great dynamic between the two of you that keeps you both from being burnt out as often.
Itadori is also surprisingly perceptive, wether he realizes it or not. He knows there’s moments when everything around is just way too much and you’ll quietly excuse yourself from whatever is going on and disappear for a bit to “recharge,” as you’ve both come to call it.
But this time there’s something more to it, he thinks.
You’d been studying as a group, everyone chatting idly as you all finished up a paper that had you doing borderline obsessive research for the past few days and collecting so many pages of notes for everyone to use that you had apologized when you presented the veritable stack of notes. Honestly it was more than anyone really needed, but you were always thorough and detailed when it came to new information. Someone in the group asked a question and you launched into a detailed answer, flipping through your notes to reference, and excitedly prattling on about related facts. If he was being honest, this was his favorite way to see you: animated and passionate about something that excited you! He knew you loved to learn and loved even more to share that knowledge with your friends- but seeing it in real-time, that smile that lit you up like a star, the dazzle in your eyes? Adorable!
And then you just-clammed up.
One of the girls in your group, he couldn’t even remember her name, looked you up and down before she smiled in that way that immediately read “condescending,” as she side-eyed the boy next to her and he gave a little huff in turn, something barely worth being called a laugh. But that was all it took for you to immediately stop talking and apologize- the smile on you face dimmed to a nervous flicker as an embarrassed flush coloured your ears a brilliant red. You settled back on your knees, idly rubbing the back of your hand as the rest of the group moved on like nothing had happened. Completely oblivious they returned to chatting and texting and just pretending nothing had happened.
Somewhere outside the open window a dog started barking and your head snapped to the noise like a magnet, brows gently furrowed as you absently scratched at the back of your hand. Someone across the table sighed and started tapping their pen against their textbook and Itadori honed in on the noise, counting the taps as he watched your brows furrow further, eyes jumping from person to person around you. Someone’s phone vibrated on the table and the pen tapping lost its rhythm, before it slipped and clattered onto the floor. You cleared your throat and smiled for everyone before quietly excusing yourself to go grab something you’d forgotten in your room, making a break for the door with the promise that you’d be back in a bit.
Again, no one bats an eye at your behavior- they don’t even say anything as you disappear. But.. there’s just this certain look about you as you head out of the room that pulls Itadori’s rapt attention. Maybe it’s the subtle wobble in the edge of your smile, maybe it’s the way that smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes, or maybe it’s the way your hands are clenched just a little too tight- something is off. This isn’t just a need to “recharge,” and he stares at the door long after you’ve disappeared, completely checked out from the people around him.
In your mad dash for some place quiet, you found yourself hunkered down in a stairwell, sat tucked against the wall with your forehead on your knees. Your mind raced with how stupid i must have sounded, how weird everyone must think I am, wishing more than anything that my heart would stop thundering in my ears or a hole would just open up and swallow me whole. You’d just been so into the topic- you hadn’t meant to run off at the mouth like that. And then i just ran? Oh mannn. Deep breaths. Just relax, right? I’ll just head back to my room, maybe change into that big comfy sweater and grab some tea... and then it hit you. I have to go back.. I left all of my stuff.
Running a hand through your hair, you tried to mentally prep yourself for the walk of shame you’d have to do. You couldn’t just leave all of your study materials in someone else’s room- but your heart still felt like it was going to pound out of your chest and you just couldn’t shake the furious embarrassed blush that burned across across your whole face. You had no choice but to go back…
The door besides you swung open and you let out an involuntary, “eep,” of surprise before spotting the messy mop of Itadori’s rose-toned hair.
“There you are! I got a little worried so I brought your stuff,” He gave you an easy smile, lifting your worn bag from his shoulder and letting the door drop closed behind him. The sound of it closing echoed across the stairwell and into your skull and an unbidden wave of frustration washed over you as you stared at your neatly packed bag.
“I-I said I’d be right back!” Why am I being so defensive? Shut up! “You didn’t have to do that- I was coming right back.” Ugh, my face feels like it’s going to melt off-
Itadori’s smile dropped a bit and he shrugged, “No you weren’t.”
What? How did he-
“It’s cool, those guys didn’t even notice. They’re too busy with their phones,” he chuckled softly, setting you bag at your feet.
That fire in your cheeks burned brighter at how right he was and you looked away, finding the laces of your shoes infinitely more interesting as silence fell over you both. He moved next to you, sliding down the wall to settle beside you on the floor. It felt like ages, the two of you just existing in the silence of that empty stairwell. But as your face cooled and your heart stopped threatening to leave your body, you realized exactly how glad you were that Itadori saw through you so easily.
“I.. yeah, you’re right,” Your voice was barely a whisper and your eyes itched with the urge to cry. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
Itadori laughed softly, leaning a bit to bump your shoulder with his own, “no prob, I know you wanted to get away.”
You nodded, trying so hard not to sniffle. You’d embarrassed yourself enough for one day, please don’t cry in front of Yuji.
“You want a hug?”
You laughed, the sound small and watery as you nodded, “please?”
He reached over to wrap an arm around your shoulders before tucking your head under his chin with another gentle laugh. You were so glad when he didn’t mention the dampness that soaked into his shoulder.
“Thank you, Yuji.”
✶⋆⁺₊⋆✦Bonus ✦⋆⁺₊⋆✶
“Awe, man, you have 4 of them!?” Yuji was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet in your living room, the biggest grin on his face. “Can I pet them? Like, all of them!?”
Nodding, you couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm as he all but launched himself at the closes cat to his person.
The other 3 watched in curiosity as this bouncy new stranger cooed and scratched their sibling in all the right places. And before he knew it, he was surrounded with 4 demanding little furballs who all wanted the best of this strangers scitches.
#yuji Itadori x reader#itadori x reader#Yuji x reader#jujutsu Kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#my writing#whooo I didn’t mean to go this long#hope you like it!#thanks again for your support 🥺#I also haven’t ever written for jjk soooo#I’m so nervous I’ve barely written anything in 3 years#if there are typos no there isn’t#I don’t have a keyboard lmfao#jujutsu kaisen#yuji itadori
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👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!
🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them. (sebi please?)
🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?
ty for sending this, anon!
👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!
ahhh the only actual wip i have is girl!seb because the others are incoherent scribbles that i've marked down as In Progress... F. so far i think i've finally completed the story from 2005-2010, but from there things kinda fall apart--i'm trying to build up enough of the damage from 2011/2012 so that 2013 will hit harder, but atm those years are kinda falling through, mostly bc i don't know how to write jenson. i might have to re-do 2011 depending on how the rest of writing 2012 goes.
i feel like i keep talking about this project but haven't got anything to show for it so 💀 here's a snippet!
Indianapolis, USA - June 17, 2007In her Grand Prix weekend debut, Seb goes fourth fastest in her first practice session, qualifies seventh, and nabs eighth place, even after a messy start. She rises out of the car as the second woman in history to score points in Formula One—and the first to score a full point.
BMW is ecstatic with the achievement, immediately attaching their brand to her moment. Red Bull is right on their heels. To that end, Lewis’ win might as well be overshadowed by the media attention that flocks her way, but he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered, pulling her into a friendly handshake and half-hug in congratulations before being swept elsewhere.
It feels just as good as a win. Seb is practically soaring, with nothing to kill her mood from the end of the race to the end of the day, even when Scott Speed almost dislocates her shoulder as he struts by, even when the boys try to take her out bar hopping and don’t succeed.
“I’ll head back to the hotel, you stay and have fun,” she says, waving them off as she tucks her ID back into her wallet. An idea is forming in her head on how she can celebrate, anyway.
“Are you okay to get back on your own?” Beat looks torn, like he knows the responsible thing to do is accompany her, especially when she’s dolled up in a thin white shirt and short little tennis skirt, her legs bared to keep cool from the mid-June humidity. But the party is in full swing at the Slippery Noodle.
“I’m going to get a ride,” she assures him, and fishes out her phone.
. ⋅ ˚̣- :
Twenty minutes later, Mark shows up in a taxi.
(she gives him a lap dance. they fuck nasty.)
🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them. (sebi please?)
loathe as i am to call seb a character that i have headcanons for--i do very much find myself enjoying the idea that he can be more calculated (and cold?) than he lets on. similarly i don't know if i really like the whole, yknow, bratty-subby-tearful-cute thing that's popular in fanon? which, sure, it has its own basis, but i personally find it more interesting to see his more deliberate side and dissect him from that angle, kind of like an autopsy of Red Bull Seb, The Frat Bro Who Wasn't. i think charlie @sebrrari nails this in the whole "whether the medicine is enough" series! and though it was very much a reactionary fic, i think i get at the idea in and an and, and an and, and the end.
🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?
LOVE CONFESSIONS. i can't do them well but in my head they are sooo emotive. like in the nayq prequel when mark finally says it and the words absolutely destroy seb. or in wrestling in dirt pits when seb and mark admit they're still in love with each other in a moment of weakness. and i'll just spoil a bit of this girl!seb au, they say it after fuji 2007 and it's like the Crux of their entire relationship and not to toot my own horn but it works in the overarching story and i need to bash my head against a wall whenever i think about it. anyway
writer emoji ask game!
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Sunflower Week 2023, Day 3- Movie Night!
“Wait, what?!”
The chair screeched loudly as it was pushed back, Hero standing up as he gaped at Sunny, who was blinking at him from the other side of the table. “You two haven’t been on a single date?!”
Sunny slowly reached out and grabbed a slice of pizza, chewing thoughtfully.
After a moment he shook his head, and Hero’s eyes widened even more, practically bulging out of his skull. He grabbed his head with his hands, practically tearing out his hair as he whisper-yelled across the table.
“HOW?!”
Sunny shrugged, feeling unsure all of a sudden.
…It wasn’t that big of a deal, right…?
“But- but you two have been going out for months now!” Hero said in shock, slowly falling back onto the chair. “I- I mean, you have been, haven’t you?”
Sunny nodded.
“But- then… then, how- how..” Hero gestured helplessly, and Sunny shrugged again as he bit into his pizza, grimacing slightly as his fingers got all greasy.
Hero let out a heavy sigh as he leaned against the back of his seat, nabbing a piece of margherita from the plate. “Well then, there’s only one thing for it.”
Sunny simply raised an eyebrow in response, and Hero grinned.
“You need to plan a date, of course!”
- - -
Basil froze, damn near dropping the phone where he stood as a flush steadily rose on his cheeks. Was he dreaming?
He had to be dreaming, or- or mishearing somehow, there was no way...
“…Basil?” Sunny’s voice said softly down the phone, a bit scratchy from disuse.
“S-sorry, I’m here!” Basil said nervously, pressing it back against his ear as his mind raced. There- there were so many things that could go wrong!!
What if Sunny realised how horrible of a person he was and didn’t want to be with him anymore?? Would it be different from when they normally spent time together??
Would it be… He swallowed.
…Awkward?
“Are you f-free… um, Sunday?” Sunny’s voice said hesitantly, and Basil’s heart swelled, a small smile appearing on his face. Then again, it was Sunny, so it’d be fine no matter what, right?
“U-um…” He thought for a moment. “Yeah, I- I think so! Is it.. is alright if I just check with Polly quickly?” Basil said, smile widening.
He couldn’t wait to see her reaction.
“Okay.” Sunny’s voice murmured softly. “Sh… should I wait here?”
“U-um, yeah! Sure!!” Basil said quickly, before he put down the phone and sprinted out of the room, skidding into the kitchen where Polly stood, looking confused as she peered down at a recipe.
“Hmm…” Her brow scrunched up as she squinted, looking from the recipe book to the bubbling pot and back again. “This is not what the recipe says it should look like…”
“P-POLLY!!” Basil yelped, and that got her attention. He hardly ever raised his voice, after all.
“Basil? What’s the matter? Is something wrong??” Polly said worriedly, instantly looking up from her book and scanning him up and down for any injuries.
She sighed with relief as she found none, thank goodness. Her nerves still hadn’t recovered from that horrible scare a year or so ago…
“Polly.” Basil said, voice shaking, and she instantly looked up with concern only to see a huge, warm smile spreading across his face.
He reached up to fidget with the flower in his hair, the silly smile still on his face, before mumbling something.
Polly smiled, sensing good news already. “Sorry, what was that?”
“S- sunny asked me on a date.” Basil said softly, voice trembling from sheer excitement as his smile grew even wider.
Polly’s eyes widened, and her face split in a matching grin.
“Oh my! Basil, really?” She laughed, ruffling his hair and feeling her heart swell as he leaned into the touch slightly. This time last year, he would flinch back from gentle touches before she could even get close. “That’s just lovely, oh, Sunny’s such a sweet boy! When’s the date?”
“Next Sunday!” Basil said happily, before his smile slipped off his face, brow creasing in worry. “Oh no… what am I going to wear?! I-I mean, I don’t even know what type of date it is…”
Polly smiled devilishly. “Oh, don’t worry about that… Let’s just say I have a few ideas I’ve been storing up…”
- - -
Basil knocked on the door of the Suzuki household, an excited grin on his face. He bounced on his heels to try and get rid of the nervous energy that was stirring up his insides.
The door opened almost instantly. Sunny stood in the doorway, his eyes widening as they landed on the flower adorning Basil’s hair:
A creamy-white tulip, fresh from the garden.
Basil’s small smile grew as he noticed the blush slowly growing on Sunny’s cheeks… Polly was always full of such good ideas!
“Hi Sunny!” He said happily, but soon he was the one turning scarlet as Sunny took his hand, leading him inside. It felt… a bit different from normal, for some reason.
He felt a bit nervous, butterflies roiling in his stomach, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad different… it’d just take some time to get used to.
They settled themselves on the couch in front of the TV with plenty of blankets and a plate of choc-chip cookies, courtesy of Hero.
And with no further ado they pressed play, snuggled up on Sunny’s ridiculously comfy couch (after they cancelled the move they ended up buying a new sofa, as the old one had been all old and moth-eaten anyway, and it still had that delicious, leathery new couch smell to it.)
About half-way through Basil felt a small weight on his shoulder, and glanced over in confusion to see-
Oh. Oh.
Basil’s face slowly heated up as he realised Sunny’s head was resting on his shoulder… but this wasn’t right, what if Sunny wouldn’t want this if he was awake??
Basil subtly moved over slightly, hoping he wouldn’t be disturbed (the other’s sleeping face was adorable).
…But his plan backfired when Sunny ended up just slipping down further, until his head was resting on his chest. Sunny let out a small sigh as he seemed to unconsciously nuzzle into him, murmuring something softly as he slept.
Basil was a full-blown tomato at this point, not moving a muscle lest Sunny wake up.
Silently, he lifted a hand up from under the blanket, wondering if… if it was okay, if…
Carefully, Basil rested it on the other’s inky-black hair, a small smile spreading across his face as he gazed down at the Sunny’s rosy face, wholly relaxed in sleep. Basil slowly stroked the other’s hair as he continued watching the movie, a giddy grin on his face (it felt a bit creepy to just stare at Sunny’s face like that, heh.)
A small smile rested on Sunny’s face as he nuzzled further into Basil, melting into the gentle touch… it reminded him of when Mari used to play with his hair, half-asleep on the picnic blanket as the sun set…
It was warm. And safe.
…He liked it very much.
(And Hero’s suggestion to get Basil to cuddle with him had worked as well, surprisingly…)
Hope you enjoyed :))
#omori sunflower#sunflowerweek2023#omori game#omori#omori fanfic#fanfic#writing prompt#prompt challenge#challenge#omori basil#omori sunny#omori hero#omori fandom
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Why i love honkai star rail as a disabled player, part 2
part one
alright time for part teo now that im properly into the game. Ive added it to my phone now so this will also cover the mobile. I also dont rememebr what i talked about the first time so forgive any repition
spoilers as usual
Mobile controls are so easy. Im sure i mentioned how intuitive the controls are but its the same for both pc and mobile (idk about any other platform). And its vwry easy to jump from one platform to another, no rememembering where buttons are kn different decices. As long as youve played videogames before it all makes sense.
The turn based stuff is still great. I love battling, and i hate numbers but ive actuslly gotten into my characters and their stats. Like, in what world? Its satisying seeing s character do an AoE and then everything dorps becaus elf the high damage output, turn base goves some nice opportunity to admire your work.
i will say im not into some of the outfits of the characters. Seele is a bit much for a girl livijg in an underground crazytown and Bronya's cloak looks like a safety hazard. Herta is msotly fine (a bit short but ig it work since shes basically in doll form) but March....honey please we walked through a freaking blizzard and you were the one in nothing but a sumeme dress. Did the ice make you immune??? Clara i can understand though, and i have heard Seele was based off her H3 design but still. Some of those outifts look a little inlpractical....then again its a gacha game where the main selling poitnsbare "lookat out cool characters". And i like the male trailblazers ourfit mroe then the male traveller from Genshin
music. Omg i love the music so much. You dont even knwo. Ive been singing the melodies all weekened. Its gonan be one of those legendary themes i think
font size. Good on Pc, wish it was slightly bigger kn mobile esspecislly for some stuff where being sble to see the words is usually a good thing.
Pom pom. Unlike Paimon, they are not mildly annoying and are very cute. They need to be protected at all costs especislly from the memory guardian person. The Breakfast light cone is just so funny too lol. This has nothign to do with the design or anything i just needed to say jt.
even as a FTP player its actually pretty easy to get stuff if you dont mind apending a few mintues or an hour chasing down a frw achivements even just playing the mossions can nab you the premium currency and the grind is the least annoying thing ive played since Monster Super League (which was annoying but was the point kf the game so i couldnt fault it). And dont forget the freebies and gifts! And level rewards! And 50 other things!
Traces. Relics, and light cones are all vpretry intuitive menus. Took me a hot minute to figure out how tk level up a character but now i got it. As long as you know vaguely what atats you need ktsball good.
thats all i really have for now, ill make a part three if j think of more. I did want to add that if you have shaky hands, not having to aim March's bow or aim for an enemy and just tap where the enmh is in the turn based is so much ncier.
#disability#disabled#honkai#honkai impact star rail#honkai star rail reaction#honkai star rail#star rail#visually impaired#perspective
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Equius: D—> Who wants to hear a story about a magic artifact
*the children clamor and move towards him, clearly fascinated by the premise of magic.*
Equius: D—> Yes
Equius: D—> It is a special necklace called
Equius: D—> The Arsene Amulet
Vriska: *warning tone* 8quius
Equius: D—> And i am told
Equius: D—> That it can steal
Equius: D—> A person’s epithet
Vriska: 8quius, shut up
Equius: D—> I bet something li%e that would be pretty va100able
Equius: D—> Va100able enough that somebody might even want to try to steal it-
*Vriska uses all of her strength to pull Equius towards her, glaring at him.*
Vriska: 8quius! Th8 8xhib8. Isn’t. Publ8c y8.
Equius: D—> I’m sorry miss vris%a
Equius: D—> I thought it would spice up your boring epithet tour
Equius: D—> Be%ause it is a ne%lace
Equius: D—> That steals epithets
Vriska: How about I st8ck to g8ving tours. And you stick to moving boxes.
Equius: D—> Very well
Equius: D—> I shall do it
Equius: D—> With gusto
*he flexes so hard that the box he’s carrying shatters, revealing priceless artifacts that the kids ooh and aah over for a few moments.*
Random Student: HEy! FREe TREASURe! LET’s GEt It!
*the kids cheer and leap into the pile of artifacts to fight over them.*
Vriska: You’d b8ter pr8 th8 amul8 wasn’t in th8re.
Equius: D—> I’m sorry, miss vris%a
Equius: D—> But at least the children are happy
Vriska: G8 away from th8re you l8tle gobl8ns!
*she leaps into the fray. After a monent, a chomp sound can be heard.*
Vriska: OW! Don’t b8 me!
Vriska: H8! Ch8perone! Don’t just stand th8re! Do someth8ng!
*Tavros’ Father looks up from the game he was playing.*
Tavros’ Father: uh, huH? oH! good calL! *he nudges Tavros.* can’t let them get all the good stufF!
*he swan dives into pile.*
Tavros’ Father: TREASURE!
*Vriska lets out a massive groan and disappears back into the mess of child fists and bites as Tavros’ Father dives in.*
Equius: D—> Worry not, miss vris%a
Equius: D—> I shall gain their attention another way
Equius: D—> Children
Equius: D—> Look
*the fighting pauses as everyone, including Vriska, turns to look at this musclebound hulk of a man.*
Equius: D—> My epithet is BARRIER
*with an incredibly loud grunt of exertion, he flexes his shirt right off. Most of the children boo.*
Passing Museum Guard: WelL, He’S CertainlY GoT MY AttentioN.
Random Student: MEh.
*the children and Tavros’ father return to fighting, causing Vriska to dive back into the pile. The noises of the fight, Tavros’ father’s game, Equius flexing, and Vriska yelling get more and more intense, until…*
*A green bubble appears around Tavros, muting everything.*
*Tavros Nitram. Epithet: DUMB. Can mute and simplify things.*
Tavros: *sigh* tHAT’S BETTER,
Tavros: hEY DAD, i’M GONNA GO TAKE A WALK, oKAY?
Tavros’ Father: huH? whaT? tavroS, you know i can’t hear you when you’re silenceD! *he chuckles.* oh well, more for mE!
*as he walks away, Tavros bumps into a boy with a purple skunk stripe in his hair.*
Tavros: oH, uM, sORRY,
*a small cloud of violet dust rains down on Tavros as he hurries away from the boy, who only responds with a small “hmph.” As he moves, his footsteps begin to grow unsteady, and less certain. His legs wobble, and his eyes droop.*
Tavros: *yAWN* wHY AM I SO TIRED,,,? i GUESS I WAS UP RUNNING THE, uH, tOY STORE THE LAST THREE NIGHTS, aND TONIGHT
Tavros: mAYBE, iF I JUST, sIT DOWN FOR A SECOND,,,
*he collapses, and a little under two hours pass.*
Vriska: *over intercom* The museum will be closing in five min8s. Please m8ke your way to the 8xits. Noooooooow.
*the students run out, cheering about freedom.*
Random Student: CHECk It OUt! I TOTALLy NABBEd THIs COOl SWORd. I BEt THIs THINg Is, LIKe, SUPEr CURSEd.
Random Student #2: HHehe, nnice. LLet’s tthrow iit aat ggirls.
*Random Student #1 cheers before they both leave, Tavros’ father close behind while humming and still playing his game.*
Tavros’ Father: hang oN.
Tavros’ Father: feels like i’m forgetting somethinG… keys, wallet, phonE… keys, wallet, phonE… hM. two phoneS. no walleT.
*there’s a pause.*
Tavros’ Father: welP! that’s threE!
*he whistles as he leaves the museum. Vriska watches him, before activating the intercom again.*
Vriska: *over intercom* 8tention! The museum is now closed. If you are still in the museum, g8 out.
*another six hours pass, returning us to the present - John Egbert and his Banzai Blasters attempting to rob the museum, while Tavros can only watch.*
#submission#tavros nitram#john egbert#vriska serket#equius zahhak#random students#Tavros’ non-canon father#Equius adds like 4x the lines this would have otherwise because of his no end punctuation rule#Out of character equius#Epithetstuck#Humanstuck#That extra museum guard isn’t there in EE I just thought it would be OOC for Vriska to find Equius hot#Equius is kind of a dumbass in this#It’s a given when you’re taking the place of Indus#Source: Epithet Erased#//#homestuck#incorrect homestuck quotes#thank you for tagging this cause i wasnt gonna#mod jade
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Nervous breakdown for 'bad things happen bingo'
I got a busy weekend ahead of me, not only do I got the next chapter of Carpe Diem to finish up but I got two other prompts to write!
Fandom: Gravity Falls
Prompt: Nervous Breakdown
Masterlist
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Dipper had his elbows braced on his knees and he stared down at the floor, the constant feeling of Mabel rubbing his back brought some comfort.
“You got this,” Mabel murmured, “he can’t hurt you.”
“No,” Dipper agreed quietly, “but I’ll see him.”
Dipper ended up agreeing to testify in court, he would only have to speak in two different cases. For ‘the suit-man’ (or David) and Missy. Carl (or Nigel) had taken a plea deal. Today was David’s case.
He was sitting in the witness room with Mabel, she and the Grunkles had come with him. Both to show their support and to testify the day before. Dipper’s parents wanted to come too but couldn’t be pulled away from work in time.
“You don’t have to look at him,” Mabel said “just look at me or Stan or Ford, okay.”
Dipper took a deep breath “yeah, okay.”
Mabel stood up “I gotta get in there, are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah... Yeah I’ll be okay.”
His sister left the room and Dipper was left alone, well mostly alone. There were four other people in the room. He vaguely recognized three of them to be the women and guards who nabbed him from the warehouse but the last one he didn’t know. Dipper could feel them staring at him but he did his best to ignore it, hiding his face in a book (he wasn’t allowed his phone).
One by one the other witnesses were pulled away to testify and Dipper didn’t see them after. He wasn’t surprised, as soon as he was done he was high-tailing it out of there. Thank goodness Pacifica (being the law student that she was) agreed to sit in on everything and give him the sparknotes.
Finally, it was his turn to testify. Dipper took a deep breath and followed the bailiff into the courtroom. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on the defendant's table where David was sitting, staring at him with a cold, calculating expression. Dipper felt a shiver run down his spine.
Dipper sat at the witness stand and answered the questions as best he could, he made sure to look anywhere but the defendant’s table. Despite knowing Stan, Ford, and Mabel were in the room Dipper didn’t look at them as he shared his story. He didn’t want to see their reactions.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Dipper's testimony was over. He was dismissed from the stand and allowed to leave the courtroom. He walked out, feeling a sense of relief and exhaustion wash over him. He sat down on a bench outside and soon the rest of his family joined him. Doing his best to hold in his lunch.
“Are you alright Dipper?” Ford asked.
“Yeah…” Dipper said “I just want to go back to the hotel.”
Stan tried to brighten the mood “look on the bright side kid, the worst part is over.”
“No.” Dipper said “next week Missy is going to court. And I need to testify.”
—-----
Dipper sat behind the witness stand once again, his hands shaking from where they were clasped in his lap. In front of him was the accusation lawyer.
“Mr Pines.” He said “can you share with the court your first interaction with Ms Kelly?”
“Y-yes” Dipper said, voice shaking a bit. “She was the first person I interacted with, she had me undress for her and then shaved off all my hair.” He ran a hand over his head, his hair finally starting to grow back. “She kept touching me the whole time she was with me.”
“Can you explain what you mean by ‘touching you’ Mr Pines?”
“Um yeah...” Dipper said “she would place her hands on my arms, my shoulders, my back, my chest. She would run her hands over my body, even when I asked her to stop.”
The questioning kept on like that, the lawyer asked him about things Missy did or say and Dipper answered the best he could. Finally he heard the blessed “no further questions, your honor.” He was half way done.
The defense lawyer stood and for the first time Dipper (accidently) looked at Missy. She smirked at him and winked. His breath caught and his heart raced. The judge must have glanced at him and noticed the look on his face.
“We will take a brief, fifteen minute recess,” she decided.
“But your honor,” the defense lawyer said “I need to cross-examine the witness.”
“And you can do it after.” The judge stood and everyone followed, watching as she left the room.
“Mr Pines,” Dipper turned to see one of the bailiff said “I can bring you to a separate room if you would like a minute to compose yourself.”
“Yes” Dipper said “yes, yes please…. Yeah that would be great. Thank… Thank you.”
“Of course,” The bailiff said and led him out of a side door and to a small, private room. “Would you like me to get anyone for you?” Dipper shook his head “very well, I’ll be back in a few minutes after the break.”
“T-thanks.”
As soon as the bailiff left Dipper sat down heavily in a chair and the dam broke. His body shook and tears polled in his eyes. It felt like he was having a nasty mix between a nervous breakdown (or panic attack) and an emotional breakdown.
Dipper thought he was doing okay, sure, sleeping sucked and he had trouble letting people touch him. But other than that he was doing fine! Then all it took was to see David and Missy for him to break down. Dipper pulled out the small packet of tissues from his suit jacket that Ford insisted he put there and wiped at his eyes and forced himself to take deep breaths.
Dipper was so much more scared of Missy than he was of David or Nigel. During his time in captivity the two men were the ones to hurt him or order others to. Missy never did that. But that did not mean she was innocent, she had power over him that David and Nigal never had. And that’s what scared him.
He was grateful every day that nothing permanent ever happened but it was only because Missy never made him do anything. Dipper was positive that if he hadn’t been saved when he had she would have done it.
There was a soft tap at the door and the bailiff poked his head in. “Time to go back?” Dipper asked and he nodded.
Standing Dipper was led back to the courtroom, the bailiff not commenting on his shaking hands or his blotchy face. Dipper soon sat one again behind the witness stand and the defense lawyer stood.
-------
Author's Note:
I was going to add in another scene but I didn't have time. Nothing I can do about it, I'll probably write it out and include it in the AO3 version.
Also, another little thing. If any of you have questions about my inspiration, thoughts, motivations, etc on some of the prompts feel free to send me an ask. While I can't give out spoilers I'm happy to answer questions. I also might include some hints for future parts in my answers.
LVRODWLRQ
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Tag List:
@badthingshappenbingo @zkang288 @julietwiskey1 @syn-northpine @libraryadia
#bad things happen bingo#gravity falls#fanfic#gravity falls fanfiction#gravity falls dipper#whump#fanfiction#dipper pines#whump prompt#stanley pines#standford pines#Mabel Pines#prompt nervous breakdown
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I had a dream about some Warrior cats trying to stop an evil ruler. I knew there were four, but I could only remember two of them, Rumblesky and Fallowsight.
Rumblesky was a male with dark blue fur and a white underbelly with feathered wings. Cats are supposed to have powers in this universe, but Rumblesky did not for some reason. He was also infertile, but he dearly wanted kits. I noted that if he ever got a mate, he should have someone be a surrogate. He’s a friendly and good-natured cat, but he’s bitter about not being as helpful as he could be.
Fallowsight was a golden she-cat who I considered making the medicine cat due to her gentle and quiet demeanour, but decided that that was a stereotype and we needed more soft-spoken shy warriors. She did not have wings, but she was the heart of the group, the one who always had an idea on what to do next.
I can’t remember the other two, but one of had wings and the other was black with reddish brindle, and very high-energy.
I woke up and started writing all this down on my phone. I was in a grocery store, but everyone except me was some sort of monster. This was normal.
I wandered around for a while, continuing to make notes on my dream while taking in all the drama. One person stole something and pushed away a woman who tried to stop her, but then they revealed that they were actually twenty clones standing in one place, with many different skin tones. They jogged in a circle around the shoplifter while staff arrived.
Later, I talked to the clones (all back into one person again, but with a different skin tone since a different one had found their way to the surface.) They were actually really nice, and gave me a gift. They also explained that they were blind when they were all together, for the same reason why you can’t see if you stand directly inside someone else in Minecraft.
I met with Marcel outside, and we agreed that we were ready to leave. We waited on a white picnic bench while the clones watched over us. Eventually, dad arrived, and we went home.
Along the way, we stopped at a random house that was being investigated by a detective. He was absolutely certain that a vampire had broken in, but I knew that wasn’t the case. There weren’t even any footprints.
As we started to leave, I noticed a large crow sitting in a nearby tree. The detective said that that was our vampire, and I used the string on my bathrobe to catch it and pull it down. It wasn’t happy.
We finally arrived at home. In the fireplace, there was a cop that needed help catching some criminals who were all in the form of lizards. The fireplace door was more like a window to him, and he would look into a camera to address me (it gave the fish-eye effect.) When he opened the fireplace door, he would turn to his left and open up a full-size door from his perspective.
I agreed to help him, and employed my lizard-catching skills. They would appear in the tv room, and I would catch them similarly to how I used to catch crickets. Then I would open the door and hand them off to the cop to be sent to jail.
Eventually, a lizard that resembled the colours of a leopard gecko appeared. I caught it easily, but the cop was gone. I looked down at the lizard, and I realized that it was actually the cop who was transmutated by the lizard criminal. And there he was, at the top of the stairs.
I ran upstairs and dropped the cop, frantically telling my dad not to hurt him as he was actually a cop who was transmuted by a criminal wizard lizard. His response was just “…okay?”
I chased after the wizard lizard, who ran into my room and onto my bed. He almost escaped, but I was able to nab him before he disappeared in my messy blankets. He told me that he was hoping to mess up my bedroom so that I would be uncomfortable sleeping there.
I brought him back downstairs, and also picked up the cop. I put the cop back into his place first, and he turned back into a human. I handed off the wizard lizard, and he thanked me and took him away.
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𝕟𝕠𝕩𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕣 - 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟙𝟝
3 years later...
Third Person's POV
It's been three years since the zombie apocalypse in South Korea broke out. Jungkook had safely gotten out with his team to Japan... Well, except Lia. The same couldn't be said for her. She's a raging zombie. Jungkook put the baby he rescued from the ship up for adoption. The virus did spread from South Korea to other countries but they all did a better job at curbing the virus. Somehow more from South Korea would come in as survivors would try and make it out. Growing tired of the menace, North Korea nuked the entirety of South Korea and now it lies as a radioactive wasteland... Idle and dangerous to any life form.
Jungkook silently walks into the room watching the love of his life devour a man brutally as he screams trying to escape. He was tied up and thrown in front of her as food.
Jungkook waits for the man to stop screaming and lose his conscience. The man slowly stops struggling and falls unconscious.
"Hmmm," Jungkook hums with a smile, "Is your lunch tasty, babe?"
She continues to bite and tear into the man's flesh as he sits on a chair away from her.
"I'm sure it is," he chuckles, "Look at you go," he looks at her with big, round, and loving eyes, "Like you don't eat at least three of them every day."
Jungkook breathes in and smells the stench in the room. He crinkles his nose with a smile, "Don't you think this room needs some cleaning?"
He stands up and inspects the wall behind the chair, "It's all mouldy and smelly in here," he looks at the floor to see blood and guts splattered everywhere, "Do you want a new room, babe? Or are you okay in here?"
He grins at her. No response. Obviously... She's busy eating lunch.
He inhales through gritted teeth, "Slow down, babe."
"You know," he sits back down watching her, "It's hard to transport you to another room. You're quite aggressive."
"Oh, yes," Jungkook grins as he remembers, "I forgot to tell you the details about your breakfast and lunch. The woman who you ate this morning was unwell. She was in the grocery store but when she walked out she collapsed and I caught her. I got her all the way home to give you. Was she tasty?"
He heard snarls and other wet squelching sounds.
He laughs at himself, "But don't you feel guilty for this man. I found him trying to hit a kid. When the kid got into the car, I nabbed him. I don't know if it was his kid. Who cares, right? You got your lunch and we're both happy."
He gets no reply. As expected. How can a zombie speak? They only care about food.
"Jungkook!" Hoseok opens the door whispering his name in urgency, "There's a police officer here."
Jungkook smirks before looking back at Lia, "There's your dinner, babe."
"Is he alone?" He asks and Hoseok nods.
"Good," he stands up, "Grab him and tie him up. Take care though. Don't let him die. My Lia likes her food live."
2 weeks later...
"Medical scientists have created a vaccine for the spreading virus," the woman on the news announces with a bright smile. Probably thinking it's over and everything will be fine.
"This vaccine is tested and ready to go," she grins, "The vaccine has been shipped all over the world and will soon be available- Or is already available at your nearest hospital, school and or vaccination camps. Let's conquer this together!"
Jungkook sighs turning the television off. Do I have to get it? What if it hurts Lia?
What if it cures Lia?
Can it cure Lia?
He quickly unlocks his phone and opens Google.
"Can," he types in, "the vaccine..," his fingers tap the screen quickly, "cure a zombie?"
The app loads as he taps his foot.
A snippet on Google shows a completely irrelevant answer and Jungkook throws his phone in frustration, "Fuck you, Google."
"Jungkook?" Hoseok walks in hearing the phone ricochet from the floor.
Jungkook sighs and sits down, "Yes."
"What happened?" Hoseok asks sitting next to Jungkook.
"Do you think the new vaccination can cure Lia?" He asks softly, tears threatening to fall.
"I'm not sure, Jungkook," Hoseok smiles softly at Jungkook, "We can try."
"What if she gets hurt?" He whispers, tears finally running down his cheeks.
"Do you want to try and make her human again?" Hoseok asks.
"Yes," Jungkook whispers again unable to muster the strength to use his voice.
"Then try," Hoseok says, "I hate feeding her unsuspecting humans that are going on with their lives."
"Is the vaccine available at the hospitals?" Jungkook asks.
"Yeah," Hoseok stands up patting Jungkook's shoulder, "We should go get it."
Jungkook tips his chin up agreeing with Hoseok.
A few hours later...
Jungkook walks into her room softly. He closes the door behind him with a click alerting her. She looks up snarling at him, constantly trying to break free from the chains holding her at the corner of the room.
"Calm down, baby," Jungkook grins fidgeting with the vaccine bottle and syringe in his hands, "I'm not food."
Lia's fingernails claw on the ground.
"Careful, Lia!" Jungkook frowns, "Don't break your nails. They're pretty weak."
Jungkook had become delusional over the years comfortably pretending that Lia could understand everything he said but was just mad at him for being ignorant of her.
He sighs, "You never listen, do you?"
His eyes move to the rotting body beside her. Rolling his eyes he frowns, "You didn't even finish your lunch and you're already trying to jump at me?" He smirks, "Am I that tasty?"
He calls for his men and they come storming in.
"Clean out the body," Jungkook crinkles his nose looking at it.
They carefully take the body on a stretcher.
"Oh also," he pauses looking at the syringe.
"Muzzle her."
954 WORDS
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I have just nabbed Pokemon Moon a few days ago and the brainrot has settled in so very hard so I am very happy to find someone who does Guzma requests so : Team Skull Grunts trying to help their boss out and trying to hook him up with reader insert, who he obviously has a thing for, in typical "genius" Team Skull fashion. Luckily for the Grunts and Guzma reader does actually like him too. I would just LOVE some awkward comedy of the Grunts trying to be Wingmen/women/folks because goddamn their boss deserves to be happy.
YES YES! YOU GET IT! I’m gonna write so much fluff, I hope you enjoy! Also I’m gonna use some of the names from the anime, these are not names in the game I just wanted to use something as to not get confused or say grunt every sentence, I don’t watch the anime I only have game memory.
Reader is gender neutral
Asks box is open!
-
-
Team skull say in a group circle, the only people missing is Guzma and Plumeria, and they guess you, the other unofficial member of the team, but that’s what they were here to discuss.
“Boss has it bad.”
Hums of agreement and nods were shared.
“I ain’t ever seen the boss get so tongue tied talkin before.”
The team mulls over what to do, Guzma gets so nervous around you, they all have watched him try to talk to you but it’s like the boss’s brain stops working when he does.
“I GOT IT!” Tupp jumps up gaining everyone’s attention “we just gotta help a bit! Maybe set up some candles or somethin! Like those movies do, that’ll get boss to be his usual self!”
The circle cheers and like that they were off.
Guzma has no idea what his grunts are up to, they are being secretive, but they are being so obvious about it he doesn’t understand, his punks tell him everything so why the sudden change and giggling?
“Boss! Boss! We need your help! Someone is attacking and beating is up at the Amalie city garden! We are losin big time!”
Guzma jumps up from his throne and bolts, he maybe rough around the edges but these are his punks, he will be damned if anything happens to them and they know it.
Once he reaches the garden it’s…quiet? He just now realized how late it is there are maybe two people here at most this late, where is his team? Where is the person said to be beating his team? Maybe it’s a trap, with that thought guzma slouches just a bit more, taking more cautious steps, if he can get the drop on whoever it’ll be an easy win he is a strong guy.
But nothing ever happens, he rounds a corner only to see…candles? He is so confused, what the hell is going on?
Rapidly approaching footsteps got his attention, quickly turning to see you run towards him in your pajamas, is is really that late?
“I-I came as, oh man, as soon as I could! Zipp told me there was something bad going on here and you were caught in the middle I-“ between you being out of breath and trying to talk, he is make a guess about what’s going on.
It’s only confirmed when the clinking of plates are heard and poorly played music starts, you two look to the table, dubious food on the plates, the glow of the candles isn’t helping it look better, and there stood one of the grunts, who has no idea how to play a violin, where did she even get a violin?
“What is the meanin of this!” Guzma finally yelled out of his stupor, the poor music stopping, two other team skull members pop out of the bushes, the three look so nervous.
“W-we’re sorry boss!”
“That doesn’t explain why ya lied not only to me but to them too! Do you know how late it is!? They were probably tryna sleep!….were you?” His grey eyes meet yours, trying not to show concern.
“I was actually, I had just put my phone down to sleep, I thought something had happened with how they were banging on my door.”
Guzma glares back at the three punks cowering before him.
“Apologize now and all ya have to do is clean the house.”
“But boss!”
“We were just tryna help, honest!”
“We didn’t mean to cause trouble this time!”
You tilt your head, help? What needs help?
“Is there something wrong? Do you guys need help with something? If so I’d be more than happy to lend a hand.” You smile, trying to lighten the mood.
Tupp, Rapp, and Zipp all perk up, looking at Guzma trying to gauge his reaction, and just as they expected his expression softens, a faint blush coating his cheeks and his hands tremble a bit before he crosses his arms, trying to cover it up.
“I guess I’ll bite, what help?”
Rapp slaps her hands on the other twos mouths “we can’t tell you yet boss, we’re sorry!” She can’t have these two ruining the plan.
Guzma sighs, frustrated at his teams antics, but your laughter calms him down.
“This whole situation is hilarious if I’m honest, but I’m wide awake now, do you wanna go for a walk?”
The grunts give lightning fast responses “oh sorry we must be off somewhere!” Before running away, leaving you and Guzma, who falls victim to your sweet expression.
“Why not, I’m awake anyways, anywhere in particular?”
You him before locking elbows with him “nope just where ever is fine.”
Guzma feels like his heart is beating out of his chest, he has been so smitten with you since you beat him at the shady mansion, though he was so mad, even more so with that soft smile of yours, he thought you were mocking him, then you simply walked over and offered to heal his Pokémon, you genuinely complimented him and his Pokémon, he took your words to heart, but that was almost a year ago, he still couldn’t confess.
You don’t need someone like him, you need someone who can spoil you out in public, take you places, show you the love and affection you deserve, he isn’t worth it, Guzma knows he loves you, he is so deeply in love, but you’re too good for someone like him.
You find the team skull antics cute, and their boss even cuter, you’ve noticed he gets shy on you, but it adds to his charm, he’s so sweet in a rabid Pokémon kinda way, you swear your head his pockets rattle, you know it in fact, when he calls out for certain grunts asking if they’ve had their medication yet, he cares for every last one of them like they are family, and he is so protective, you can’t help but fall for him.
Walking around really helped exhaust you, all that running you did to reach the Malie garden, and the adrenaline rush long over, you felt so tired.
“It’s like…really late, lemme walk ya home.”
“Oh sure, I don’t mind!”
You two simply basked in each other’s presence, you enjoyed spending any amount of time with him, finally reaching your door step you let go on his arm, which he quickly missed your warmth while you unlocked your door.
“Although if didn’t start out as such, thank you for the nice walk out tonight, Guzma.”
That smile of yours is going to be the death of him, you look at him like he hung the moon and stars, but in all fairness he would if you asked him.
“Eh not a problem, I’m…I’m sorry those runts got you roped into some weird plan of theirs, even I don’t know what they’re up to.”
His frustrated sigh makes you laugh, you enjoy that he hasn’t caught on, you thought it was obvious with the poorly made dinner and bad ‘romantic’ music.
You raise up on your tippy toes to reach this tree of a man’s cheek and place a quick kiss.
“Goodnight Guzma, I hope to see you tomorrow, I’d saaaaay maybe later tomorrow night? I know a nice field we can star gaze in.”
“Y-yeah-“
“Perfect! It’s a date then!” And like that you were behind your closed door, leaving a red faced stuttering guzma outside.
Faintly you hear ‘YES! YES!’ Being cheered outside, chuckling, you thought you broke him for a bit, laying in bed you can’t help but thank those three.
While Guzma is back in his room in Po town screaming into his pillow, he can’t believe that actually happened.
#pokemon#pokemon imagines#pokemon x reader#pokémon#pokemon fanfic#pokemon guzma#pokemon guzma x reader#grunts are trying their best#they can’t cook#they apologize#but they tried!#guzma is not impressed#he is so sorry you gotta see this#pokemon fluff
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white wedding.
summary: your estranged aunt leaves you her estate in her will with the stipulation that you have to be married to receive your inheritance. luckily, harry is more than willing to help.
pairing: best friend!harry styles x reader
warnings: fluff, smut, angst if you squint.
song inspo.: white wedding - billy idol
word count: 13.4k
You weren’t too close to your Aunt Alice for the entirety of your life - there’s a picture, you think, hung in your parents’ house of her and some of your other family members, crowding around your bassinet when you were just a baby, her face turned up into a scowl amid everyone else’s gleaming grins, and it was a lovely foreshadow into your relationship with her. She sent you $10 on your birthdays and Christmas (an amount that your father had always scoffed at when he thought you weren’t listening - ‘she’s a goddamn millionaire,’ he’d hiss to your mother, ‘and the most she can spare her only niece is $10?’) and you could remember, when you were 9, seeing her at a family reunion where she sat at a table pressed into a back corner and nursed glasses of wine during the entire event.
It goes without saying, you suppose, that she wasn’t the kindest lady. Your mother had told you how Aunt Alice cut off your father for some reason nobody could quite discern and, so, she never held a much larger place in your life than a mere branch on your second grade family tree project -
But, still. It’s rather difficult to regard the dead in such a negative manner so you try and focus on the good parts of your late aunt. Twice, she wrote ‘love u’ in your Christmas card. And, at said family reunion, when you walked over to her table to say goodbye before you left, she delivered a sloppy, strangely wet kiss to the side of your face that smelled distinctly of chardonnay (a scent you hadn’t quite been able to place until years later.) And -
“Are you alright?”
Harry’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, gazing out the rain-streaked car window at the night sky with an odd air of sadness surrounding you. You had been trying to hide the slight dash of sadness you feel at the memory of your aunt by disguising it with a mask of sleepiness that has you leaning your forehead against the cold window, eyes squeezed shut. But Harry can read you like a goddamn book - like the back of his hand. It’s what best friends are for, you suppose.
“I’m fine,” you tell him, tilting your head away from the window to glance at him in the driver’s seat. And, the truth is, you are fine. It’s not as though you’re entirely too saddened with the news of Aunt Alice’s passing. She’d always had health issues, according to your parents, and you’re not sure what, exactly, has sealed her fate - you’re simply more confused by it all. “Well - when we were leaving the movies, I got a call from my dad. My aunt died.”
You can hear Harry’s sharp intake of breath and there’s a brief hesitation where you know he’s trying to gauge how you feel about it. “Oh,” he settles on, turning to look at you in the eye when the car rolls to a stop at a red light. “M’sorry, love.”
You shrug, glancing down to squint at your fingernails in the darkness of Harry’s car. You’d begun to pick at the baby blue nail polish he’d delicately applied the night before (they matched his, naturally) and it really is a nervous habit you should work on, but you can’t be bothered right now. “We weren’t close,” you admit, leaning back against the headrest. “It’s just weird, is all.”
“Are y’sad about it?”
“Not quite,” and it’s the truth. “She was wealthy, though. I think she wrote novels or plays or something - I’m not sure. And I was, apparently, her closest living relative that she didn’t despise.”
He clicks his tongue softly, making a left when the light finally switches to green, and his eyes shift back towards the road. “Left y’somethin’ in her will, did she?”
“Her countryside estate,” you confess, voice soft - it’s not the climax of your story but it certainly sounds like it should be, and you can see the confused crease in Harry’s eyebrows when you look up at him. “I looked the address up online, Har - it’s gorgeous, 6 beds and 7 bathrooms. I guess we had similar tastes in that regard.”
“Y’don’t sound too thrilled, for someone who jus’ got their dream house handed to ‘em on a platter.”
“There’s a stipulation in the will.”
“Ah.”
You smile tightly. “I’ll only inherit the house if I’m married.”
It’s something you’ll never understand. Aunt Alice never married and lived in that grand old house (your dream house) all by herself, and if you’d known about your role in her will perhaps you’d have argued it with her in person - the hypocrisy of it all, how goddamn unfair it was. And it’ll kill you - truly kill you - to see that house go to whoever her next closest living relative is who she doesn’t hate. Probably some third cousin twice removed, considering how great she was at cutting people off.
And Harry sits for a moment in silence, considering it. “Seems very - very - can’t think of the word.”
“Sexist? Unfair? Dumb?”
“All true,” he agrees, giving you a sympathetic smile, and it makes you feel the tiniest bit better, even if it’s just for a moment. “Barbaric, maybe.”
“I hate her,” you declare, crossing your arms over your hoodie-clad chest, and you most certainly don’t, but you’re angry enough to mean it in the moment. When your father had told you, you hadn’t thought about it too much - besides being confused by the entire thing, being left a house by a relative you hardly knew - but saying it out loud makes you angrier, squeezing your eyes shut. “Would you know she never married? How does that make sense?”
“It doesn’t,” Harry repeats, and you glance out the window, lifting your palm to wipe at the cloudy stain your forehead had made against the glass - you’re just less a minute away from your apartment building, and you rip your phone from Harry’s charger and shove it into the pocket of your hoodie. “She left you time, right? T’get married? Tha’ seems only fair.”
You snort, ignoring the way his lips turn up into a smile at the noise. “She gave me a year. I mean, I’m 23 - I wasn’t intending on settling down for another couple of years.”
If you were less distracted, perhaps you’d see his responding silence for what it is - time to think, gears grinding in his head, as he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment building and leans over the center console to wrap you in a hug. Harry’s a talkative person and he’s only really quiet when he’s got something on his mind, but you’ve got something on yours too (probably more than he does) so you ignore it. And his soft murmur into your hair of ‘I’ll pick you up tomorrow for breakfast’ sounds every bit as distracted as you feel so you simply pay it no mind.
It’s easier that way, for now.
--
“I’ve been thinkin’ about your situation.”
You raise your eyebrows at Harry, bent over his plate of French toast as though he hadn’t spoken at all. His sunglasses are perched at the end of his nose so you can see his eyes - which, in your opinion, defeats the purpose of even wearing the stupid things in public. But, whenever you two go out together, he insists on wearing them, along with a grey beanie protecting his infamous head of curls from any wandering eyes, and the bizarre attempt at a disguise always makes you feel like you’re having breakfast with a burglar.
“Not much to think about,” you shrug, popping a forkful of omelet into your mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “I was just mad about it last night, you know. Heat of the moment, sort of thing.”
“I’d be mad, too,” Harry tells you, and it’s getting more difficult to ignore the way his words send heat creeping up your neck, and you glance down at your plate of eggs with a small smile gracing your face. “Not jus’ heat of the moment, either. Really mad. S’bullshit.”
A second of silence passes, and you let his reassurance settle over you - simply having him agree with you on the stupidity of the entire situation makes you feel a thousand times better. Even if you don’t get the house (and you’ve already progressed into the last stage of grief over almost certainly losing it - acceptance) at least you’ll always have Harry, and maybe that’s enough.
But the house would be nice, too.
“What were you thinking about?” You question, lifting your eyes back up to meet his through his tinted glasses, and if there wasn’t the barrier between your gazes you’d be able to note the nearly shameful glint in his eyes as he digs into his stack of sugary sweet toast, doused with maple syrup and towered high with fruit. “About the situation, I mean.”
Harry begins to speak once more just as you reach over with your fork to nab a piece of banana, and he swats at your wrist as you pop the slice of fruit into your mouth. “Don’ steal my banana, babe,” he tells you, eyes narrowing in mock anger, and you roll your eyes at the name. “Anyway. S’not totally crazy, that you could get married in less than a year.”
Yes, it is, you want to reply back, but you can tell he’s ramping up to something important, so you rest your fork on your plate and furrow your eyebrows at him pointedly. Truthfully, even if the love of your life happened to be sitting in front of you, you’re not sure you could go through with marrying them, anyway. It’s such a heavy commitment and, God, you thought you’d have more time. Time to explore and experiment and not settle down (in your dream house) just for the sake of it.
“What if we got married?”
And that - is not what you were expecting him to say.
You’re not sure if he’s kidding or not so you give it a minute before responding in any capacity. Just stare at him, and he makes a point of hooking his pinkie in the center of his sunglasses and tugging them down his nose just a bit so you can see the absolute lack of amusement in his eyes. He’s all business, goddammit, as if he hadn’t just basically proposed to you in the middle of eating your fucking omelet.
But you can’t be sure he’s serious, and you also can’t be sure that the way your stomach flipped wasn’t because of a particularly egregious sip of chocolate milk and not the prospect of marrying your best friend. So you lean back, crossing your arms over your chest. “Are you kidding?”
Harry just shakes his head, grey beanie sliding up just a bit for one chocolate coloured lock of hair to escape the confines of the dumb hat. “M’being dead serious, babe. I’ll get down on one knee an’ prove it, too.”
“Don’t do that,” you beg him, reaching out to grab at his wrist when he makes to push himself out of his chair, and his wide grin only sends your stomach into another set of somersaults. “Jesus, Har.”
“Horrible idea?”
You don’t respond right away, grabbing your glass of chocolate milk and wrapping your lips around the straw. It’s a few seconds to process the request in all its glory - marrying your best friend, even if it’s just for show, is a lot. Sure, all you’d really have to do is head down to a courthouse (you could do it today, even - if you wanted to, and you’re not sure you do.) It’d be easier than searching hopelessly for the love of your life and arrange a wedding in less than a year, and you’d be able to walk the halls of your aunt’s gorgeous estate, decorate it how you please, and - ideally - your relationship with Harry wouldn’t quiver in the slightest.
Well, maybe that’s why you’re hesitant to begin with. Because it would quiver - or because it wouldn’t - or because it’s plain weird to marry your best friend. Even if it’s for a good cause (your dream home) and even if he suggested it in the first place, because he cares about you and wants you to be happy.
That’s sweet.
Maybe it would be a glorious fuck you to Aunt Alice in death. It isn’t as though anyone would know about the inauthenticity of the union but you would, and that’s all the revenge you need for her adding such a silly stipulation to her will, anyway. A marriage born not out of love, but out of need - sure, it’s not exactly how you wanted your life to go, but it’s better than watching the estate go to someone you’d never met before. You could get married and get divorced in the time frame she’d given you to find love in the first place and it would hardly be a blip in your life plans, and certainly not in Harry’s. It isn’t as though he’d suggest it if the marriage would ruin anything for him.
Sure, you’d prance around family parties with him on your arm to sell your faux romance to your family. Only one or two, though, his arm around your waist, and it wasn’t as if your parents hadn’t already begun to question whether your close friendship with Harry ventured into something further. And, when it’s all said and done, when the house is officially in your name and you can begin shopping for furniture to make it your own, it’ll be easy to sell the divorce - he’s touring, you’d tearfully proclaim, and the stress was just too much on our relationship. And then you’d both be happy, right? For the most part, anyway. Still best friends with no hassle at all, and you get your house and he gets the popstar life without the settling down part.
When you’ve swallowed your gulp of chocolate milk, it’s nearly worrying how much you’ve thought about the proposal.
“It’s not a horrible idea,” you begin, eyes diverting downward to where Harry’s fingers are fiddling with a straw wrapper. “I mean, it could be pretty easy.”
“Very easy.”
“We just elope -”
“Could do it today, even -”
“I haven’t agreed yet, Mr. Styles - but we would elope, and then I’d get the house, and maybe I’d bring you to a family reunion, just to sell it, and then we’re divorced.”
He raises his eyebrows, glasses sliding further down the bridge of his nose until their purpose has been completely obliterated, and his eyes are on display for the goddamn world to see. “Unless we fall in love an’ live happily ever after - no divorce necessary, m’love.”
Bastard. Your stomach flips again but you just roll your eyes, picking up your fork and lifting a shaky bite of eggs up to your mouth. “Shut up.”
You’re almost certain you’ve made up your mind but you still make a show of thinking about it, slowly chewing on your omelet and focusing your gaze on a paper napkin resting on the ground beside Harry’s chair. It’s almost too easy, the entire process, and maybe that should make you nervous, just a little bit, that the idea of marrying him feels so relaxing. But - well - if you had to choose anyone in the world to marry in order to fulfill a stipulation in your aunt’s will, it would have to be Harry.
He’s looking at you eagerly when you look back up at him, and you’re not sure why he’s so excited about it - not like there’s anything in it for him - but it’s something you’ll think about later.
“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” you tell him, watching the way his grin spreads across his face like wildfire, and you can’t help yourself from smiling, too, “but I am.”
In seconds, Harry’s reaching across the table, grabbing your hand in his larger one, and just the way your heart jumps at the feeling of your palms pressed together should certainly have you rethinking your enthusiastic yes. But then he’s picking up the straw wrapper he’d been fiddling with, and it’s twisted into a makeshift wedding ring, and he’s sliding it onto your ring finger with a wide smile like a fucking puppy -
God. You’re in too deep already, and you’ve only just agreed.
--
For the record, you’d rethought your decision many, many times since agreeing.
You’d drafted out the text for Harry for when you inevitably will change your mind - a block of words confessing to him that you’d reacted too quickly and you think it would be best if you simply forfeit your inheritance, but you can never quite gather the guts to do it. And every time you copy and paste the note from your notes to your text thread with your best friend, something always stops you -
The photos of the house from the real estate website you’d seen it on.
Harry’s wide grin as you accepted his offer.
FIngers delicately sliding on an engagement ring made of a paper straw wrapper, and the next day when he’d shown up at your door with an actual, real engagement ring.
Naturally, you hadn’t sent it. You’d deleted the note entirely, too, embarrassed with even looking at your words of defeat sprawled on your phone screen. Sometimes, though, you wish you had fucking sent it. Nearly two weeks after accepting the proposal that still hasn’t progressed from feeling like an absolute fever dream, you’re sitting with Harry at Aunt Alice’s funeral, his arm hooked around the back of your chair and the other clutching a glass of wine that he’s hardly taken two sips of.
You’re on your second glass already, and it’s barely been an hour. You’d signed the guestbook and hooked your arm with Harry’s and introduced him as your fiance to exactly one of your great-aunts, and you’d been so nervous that Aunt Shirley could see right through your faux-engagement that you’d practically downed your glass the second her back turned.
“This is so weird,” you confess to Harry, shifting closer to him so no one else around you can hear. Not that there is, per se, anyone else around you - not many other people are sitting down, but you and Harry were one of the first people to arrive, so you’ve given yourselves a pass to sit down for a while. “Isn’t it weird, Har?”
“S’only weird if you make it weird,” he murmurs back, and you would roll your eyes at how maddeningly calm he is if you weren’t desperate to keep up your pretense as loving fiance to the funeral goers whose wandering eyes may turn to you two. “And, babe, you’re makin’ it weird.”
Your lips spread into a smile and you lift your glass of wine to your lips, taking a small sip before bringing it back down to your lap. No matter how many times you scream at yourself, internally, that nobody knows you’re not engaged and to calm the fuck down, you can’t stop your leg from bouncing up and down, showcasing your nerves in the most outward way you possibly could. “Wonder when my parents are getting here - should’ve texted them and told them separately. Did you tell your mum?”
“Told her the truth,” Harry tells you, tilting his head into yours in a way that feels so natural you swear you could stay this way forever. “You’re not tellin’ your parents the truth?”
“Bless my mum,” you sigh, “but she can’t keep a secret to save her life.”
Harry exhales a soft laugh, eyes darting around the room full of people before landing back on yours, and your gazes lock for just the briefest of seconds before he’s glancing down at your lap. “Y’don’t have t’do this if you’re uncomfortable, y’know. We can jus’ say - the pressure of m’job was too much.”
“I’m not uncomfortable,” you tell him, which is true. You’re nervous, for sure, but he could never make you uncomfortable. “And, ironically enough, that’s my excuse for when we divorce.”
Your voice drops to a near breath on the last word and Harry’s head drops back with a bark of laughter that’s entirely too loud for the setting you’re at but you can’t bring yourself to reprimand him. “Always talkin’ ‘bout our divorce,” Harry breathes, tilting his head closer to yours so his mouth is close enough to your ear that you can feel his breath, hot against your skin. “What if we fall in love, babe? No divorce then. Don’ y’want us t’live happily ever after?”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” you roll your eyes, even if you’re almost positive you will (or already have) and shake your head at Harry’s resulting chuckle. “Been best friends for nearly five years, haven’t we? If we were going to fall in love, I reckon it would’ve happened already, Har.”
“You’re right,” he agrees, voice oddly soft and sounding just sentimental enough for you to narrow your eyes suspiciously at him - but before you can question him further, his eyes dart down to where your leg is still frantically bouncing up and down. “Bloody hell, love - bouncin’ your leg so much. Y’look like a nervous wreck.”
“Thanks,” you begin, and whatever else you’d been meaning to say dies in your throat as Harry’s arm shifts from around the back of your chair and his hand comes down firm on your leg. His fingertips brush your knee and his palm lays soft against your thigh, just high enough to gently brush the end of your black dress and you wish you could control the way your stomach flips again and again like a fucking gymnast.
It’s to keep up appearances, you tell yourself. So people don’t think I’m so nervous. But it feels so nice, so natural in a way you hadn’t expected, feeling his hand resting on your thigh like it belongs there, fingertips drumming against your knee which most certainly isn’t bouncing anymore.
Your eyes flit up to his, narrowing them ever so slightly as if to sniff out his intentions, and out of the corner of your eye you can see two familiar figures walking in the high arched doors of Aunt Alice’s service. Your parents break off from each other nearly the second they enter, your father skirting off to greet some of his cousins and your mother’s eyes scan the room filled with relatives before landing on you and Harry.
“Mum’s here,” you tell Harry, pushing yourself to stand, and the feeling of his hand dropping off your thigh is a sensation you absolutely despise. He stands soon after you, adjusting the cuffs of his black button down shirt, and for the first time since the funeral began, you can see the beginnings of nervousness creeping upon him. A light pink flush works its way up his neck to his cheeks and he brings his hand up to run through his hair, inhaling a shaky breath. “You look nervous, Har. You’ve met my mum before.”
“S’different. Now we’re engaged.”
“Not too different.” You hook your arm with Harry’s, patting his hand with yours, and he gives you one grateful fleeting grin before you begin walking over to your mother. She’s bent over the guestbook, scribbling her name with the feather pen resting beside the log. You stop walking when you’re just a couple paces behind her, waiting for her to turn around and see you two - and your voice drops to a hushed tone as you reassure Harry. “I think she already sort of thought we were dating anyway - so she won’t care too much.”
“Wait - she did?”
“Hey, mum!”
--
You’re getting married in a week.
And, sure, you’d known that the entire process would move quicker than you could imagine but it still feels surreal and you still reckon you haven’t thought it through enough. It’s worsened (or, in some way, bettered) by the absolute adoration your family had immediately adopted towards Harry after meeting him just a few days ago, your aunts pulling you aside at the funeral and the repast that occurred after and whispering in your ear about what a handsome man he is!
Well, they’ll certainly be disappointed when, in a month or two, you pop in to the next family gathering and announce that you two had gotten divorced as quickly as you’d been wed. Harry will be your ex husband and, at that point, surely people would be suspicious at the speed of which everything had happened but - hey - you’ll have your house and your best friend and that’s all you really need, isn’t it.
Yeah.
Slowly but surely, you’re coming to peace with it, and Harry’s certainly making it easier by being so zen about it all. His nerves at the funeral had been just about eradicated because your mum loves him, which you knew, and your father had seemed positively overjoyed at the news of your engagement, but they’d both seemed rather disappointed at your decision to elope instead of spending the time planning a big white wedding. And you’d expected that, but you figure that, by the time your second marriage inevitably rolls around, it’ll be real (realer than whatever you’re feeling for Harry, because you’re still not sure) and your father will walk you down the aisle and you’ll be able to go shopping for a big gorgeous wedding dress like you’d always dreamt of wearing.
You haven't even bought a dress. The one you’re wearing now, staring at yourself in the floor length mirror propped against your bedroom wall, is one you’d purchased for your college graduation to wear beneath your gown - simple and flowy, falling to just about your mid-thigh, and the only redeeming quality for even being considered a wedding dress is its white color. Still - it isn’t as though it’s a real wedding, in the traditional sense, so it doesn’t make sense for you to spend too much on a gown you’ll don for a trip to the courthouse and then get sad whenever you look at it again, post-divorce.
No, you don’t think you like it. You’d liked it for your graduation but for a wedding (your wedding) you wish you had something just a bit nicer, and you want to strip out of it and change back into your jeans but Harry’s sitting in your living room, waiting for you to model the stupid thing for him, and you’d hate to disappoint him. So you inhale softly, run your hand down the fabric, soft beneath your fingers, and reach for the door.
Harry’s on his phone when you step out of your bedroom, slowly shutting the door behind you, his body looking strangely large where he’s perched on the small loveseat in your living room. Everything in your apartment seems too small for him - or just too small in general - and it’ll be a nice change to live in a house where you can hold gatherings of more than 5 people without feeling like sardines in a can.
“Har,” you call, reaching down to tug the ends of your dress just a bit further down your thighs as you step further into the living room, bare feet padding against the plush rug your parents had gotten you as a Christmas gift the year prior. “What do you think of the dress?”
You can hear the click of his phone as he turns it off, dropping it on the cushion beside him, and heat creeps up your cheeks as his gaze turns to you - you should feel self conscious, the way his eyes roll up and down your body, drinking in every bit of your dress, but you fucking love it. Love the way his lips part into a small o and upturn into a grin, how he pushes himself to stand and close the distance between you two until he’s hardly two inches away from you, how he reaches down to pick up the end of your dress as though examining the fabric.
“Do you like it?” You question as Harry drops your dress, letting the fabric fall back down around your thighs. “Wasn’t sure if I did.”
“I love it,” he tells you, immediate and forceful and you can tell he means it with his whole chest - maybe you love it, too. “Y’look beautiful.”
“You don’t think it’s too simple, do you?” Maybe you’re fishing for more compliments but you allow yourself to do it shamelessly. “It was my graduation dress - remember?”
“I do remember,” Harry grins, tugging at the bottom of your dress, and keeping his hands busy is a nervous habit of his that you’ve grown to recognize from a hundred miles away, but you can’t think of why, exactly, he’d be nervous now. “Looked so pretty, walkin’ across tha’ stage. I was so proud.”
You smile, gaze dropping down to where his fingers are fiddling with the skirt of your dress, and you think you’ll wear this dress every single goddamn day if he reacts as positively to it as he is now. “You sound like my dad.”
His nose scrunches when you look back up at him, and your heart twists inside your chest. “Don’ make it gross.” You simply shrug, bringing your fingers up to drum against his shoulders through the fabric of his Fleetwood Mac shirt, his muscles flexing ever so slightly beneath your touch. “M’being serious, though. I love the dress. Y’make the prettiest bride on the planet - m’a lucky man, aren’t I.”
From the moment you walked out of your room you’ve been feeling heat burning your cheeks but it doesn’t stop you from gently smacking his shoulder. “Stop it - you’re gonna make me blush.”
“Looks like y’already are, Mrs. Styles.”
Should that name make your stomach as topsy-turvy as it does?
You shake your head, smoothing your palms over the front of your dress to both eradicate the wrinkles that adorn the fabric and to wipe off the sweat cropping up on your hands. You don’t think you’ve ever been so nervous around Harry before and you can’t quite place your finger on why, but it’s getting more difficult to look him in the eye with your heart pounding as fast as it is. “I’m not gonna be Mrs. Styles for another week.”
Harry exhales softly, fingertips tapping against your hip and you hadn’t even realized how close his hands were to that spot of your body - but it feels comforting, his touch on an oddly intimate part of you. “I can’t wait,” he says, and you can’t, either. “Makin’ me a very lucky groom, babe.”
Hearing him call you babe could make you go crazy if you focus on it for too long, so you don’t - and it’s hard to focus on much other than Harry himself as his head drops down, forehead pressed to yours, and oh God you can smell his fucking gum, and if you tilt your head up ever so slightly -
Is he going to kiss you? You think your heart will explode but you’ve never wanted anything more so you tilt your head up, just a bit, grip tightening on his shoulder, and you can feel his breath growing warmer against your face -
The sound of Harry’s phone ringing in his pocket snaps you out of your haze.
“Fuck,” he mutters, hands dropping off your hips, and your head drops downwards with a soft groan. It was so close. You could feel his breath against your face and how did that fucking opportunity pass you by? - “S’my mum. Fuck - m’sorry.” And you’re not sure if he’s apologizing for the call or what had (or, rather, had not) happened but it doesn’t matter.
One glance at the phone he’s tugged out of his pocket shows that he’s right - Anne’s contact photo smiles up at you and you give Harry a small nod, faking the smile you’re not feeling, before taking a step back against your plush carpet as he turns around, back to you, phone pressed to his ear.
“I’m gonna change,” you whisper to no one in particular. Harry’s head turns just a bit so you can catch the apologetic look on his face before he’s loudly greeting Anne, and you’ve never liked eavesdropping on their calls. So you turn and head to your bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind you and turning to stare at yourself, wide-eyed, in your mirror.
He almost kissed you.
He didn’t - but would he have? If Anne hadn’t rung him - would he have leaned down, breathing shaky, like how it always is when he’s nervous, and ever so gently pressed his lips to yours? And you would’ve known exactly how it feels to be kissed by him, whether it would be as dream-like as all the times you’ve dreamt of it. His hands on your hips, yours on his shoulders, bodies slotted together until your hands are roaming and you’re pushing him on to the couch, sliding into his lap and his hands would roam to your thighs -
It doesn’t do well to think about it now. You don’t want to get yourself too worked up about it - that doesn’t do anyone much good - and you don’t want to take too long to change. So you inhale a soft breath, smooth your clammy palms back over the front of your wedding dress, and you allow yourself one final glance in the mirror at the attire you’ll be donning in a week’s time before reaching around to your back, fiddling with the zipper until you can begin to tug it down.
--
You and Harry haven’t talked too much since you showed him your dress, and it’s probably not very great etiquette for an engaged couple, but you two have never been normal anyway.
He sent you a picture of the suit he’s wearing and it’s as every bit unconventional as your excuse of a wedding dress, and you told him that - how you would be a pair for the books, the opposite of what a regular married couple looks like. And you texted him just yesterday and asked if he would make you two a reservation at your favourite restaurant for dinner after the elopement (he always tended to get the nicer tables, and you don’t pretend not to know why) and he sent you back two thumbs-up emojis in response.
You’re getting married in three days, though. It would probably be best to talk about it with him before you cross that bridge but it’s never been one of your stronger areas, so you leave it be for now.
“Are you alright?” Your friend questions, tilting her head in so you can hear her against the thumping music of the club. Your friends had insisted on dragging you out for a bachelorette party the second they hard of your engagement and it would be out of character for you to refuse a night of drinks on them - even if you’d rather stay home and think about Harry and all the things you should’ve done when he was at your apartment. Getting drunk out of your mind does seem preferable to wallowing, though, now that you’re out and about and well on your way to getting smashed - so you turn to Olivia and nod once, a simple jerk of your head.
“I’m fine,” you tell her, reaching over to grab the cocktail Amy had gotten for you and bringing the straw to your lips. “Just thinking about Harry.”
Amy snorts from her spot across the booth, dipping her finger into her empty shot glass and licking up the droplet she collected. “Can’t believe it took you two so long to get together.”
“And I can’t believe you didn’t tell us about it,” interjects Olivia, reaching over to grab your glass out of your hand and taking a sip of your drink. “How long have you two been together again?”
Fuck. You’re in the grey area between being tipsy and being drunk and you can’t remember how long you and Harry had claimed to be together. Was it a year or two years? You think it’s a year - you’d wanted to go as low as possible with your answer. Did we say six months? That seems too low. “I’ve liked him since I’ve known him,” you answer instead, which is absolutely the truth, and Amy and Olivia are both too drunk to ponder about your evasion of the question. “Loved him, even.”
Your fingers brush against your phone, sitting on the table face down, as your friends playfully swoon - the last time you’d texted Harry was to tell him you were going to the club, and you hadn’t checked to see if he responded. It’s always been a habit between the two of you to text where you’re going, in case something happens, which seems oddly barbaric at times but you’ve always appreciated it.
“You’re so lucky,” Amy informs you, reaching across the booth to intertwine your fingers. She gets sappy when she’s drunk and you can tell from the distinct crack in her voice that she’s mere seconds away from bursting into tears and professing how much she loves you and Olivia - you don’t ever quite enjoy being around to see that. “I mean, really. You and Harry - we always knew it would happen -”
“I should call him real quick,” you mumble, watching as her eyes water over, and Olivia rolls her eyes with a grin as she scoots around the other side of the booth so Amy can throw her arms around her. You grab your phone and push yourself out of the booth, maneuvering through the crowd of people until you’ve reached the bathroom.
It's a single stall and the club is small enough that you only have to wait a minute or two before a thoroughly shitfaced woman stumbles out of the bathroom, a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of her shoes, but she’s gone before you can point it out to her. You brush it off with a shrug and shut the door behind you once you’re inside the bathroom - it smells like Febreze and mint soap, and the scent of the mint reminds you of Harry’s breath and you really need to call him, don’t you.
You’re scrolling through your call log before you can wonder if calling your best friend who you’re in love with while you may be quite drunk is a bad idea - the phone is ringing just as you begin to - and he’s picked it up just when you realize you’ve made a mistake.
“Hey, babe,” Harry says from the other end, voice crackling with the poor reception in the club. He sounds groggy and raspy and you can tell you’ve either woken him up or he’s trying to go to sleep, and you don’t actually know what time it is, you realize. “What’re you up to?”
“I’m at a club,” you tell him, and you can hear his soft exhale of air and you can practically picture the slow smile spreading across his lips. “I’m out with Amy and Olivia - they wanted to take me out for a bachelorette party or something - s’kinda dumb, I dunno -”
“Are y’drunk? S’just, you’re slurrin’ a lot -”
“I’m tipsy,” as you sit back on the closed toilet seat, fingernails digging into your thigh. You don’t actually know what you’d called him to say but four days without talking to Harry seems like it’s setting some sort of record and you hate it. “Just wanted to call because - um - well, I miss you.”
For a second you think the call may have broken up - you can’t hear much beside his soft breathing, and you pull the phone away to check if it’s still connected. But then he sighs softly, and you’re quick to press your phone back to your ear. “I miss y’too, m’love - ‘course I do.”
“That’s sweet.” You hum softly, kicking your toes against the tiled bathroom floor. “I thought you might be mad at me.”
“Why would I be mad?”
“Dunno,” you shrug. “That’s why I was confused. But you haven’t texted me much.”
You can fucking sense him rolling his eyes. “Well, y’didn’t text me either. I thought you were mad at me -”
“I’ve been thinkin’ about what happened the other day,” you interject, and you know you wouldn’t be telling him this if you weren’t teetering more towards being drunk instead of tipsy, “and I really wanted to kiss you, you know. I mean, I thought you were going to - and then it didn’t happen.”
“Well, m’mum called.”
“Would you have done it if she didn’t?”
There’s a pause for only the briefest of seconds before Harry says, “‘Course I would have.”
Your heart flutters inside your chest and you lean your head back against the wall, nails digging further into your thigh and it’s difficult to hold back the grin that threatens to split your goddamn face in two. God, he would have. He would have kissed you - does he love you like how you love him? It seems fucking unreal, like something you’d dream up in your deepest sleep. You’d never thought Harry would ever feel the same way, even as you got a fucking marriage license together and planned out the dinner you’d eat after your elopement and -
You can’t think of a single other one of your friends who would fucking marry you for any reason, house or no house, life or death. And who would you do it for? Not Amy, not Olivia, even if they asked you nicely. It’s a commitment - a huge one - one that you wouldn’t be willing to do for anyone.
But you’d do it for Harry, in a heartbeat. You know you would. You’d have the fucking dress on before he could finish asking, and isn’t that what you had done, really? He hadn’t had to convince you much at all. You’d been willing from the get-go.
“Really?” Your voice is barely a breath, a soft exhale of air, reeking of the giddy joy you’re feeling at his proclamation. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Y’know I never lie to you.” Harry sounds nearly offended at the mere idea. “You are m’fiance. Comes with a code of conduct.”
You roll your eyes, and just then there’s a loud knock against the door - you jump violently, phone nearly slipping from your grasp. For a minute you’d forgotten you’re in a club bathroom and you know you’ve been here far too long to be appropriate - you’ll give yourself just one more minute to talk to Harry. “What about when we get divorced? Gonna lie to me then?”
“Always talkin’ about the divorce,” he murmurs, and his voice sounds so full of adoration that you’re nearly overwhelmed by it. “D’you have such little confidence about the strength of our relationship?”
If it were up to you, you’d be with Harry forever - but you can’t tell him that, not yet. “It’s not as though it’s a traditional relationship, you know. I don’t think most marriages that began for the sake of a house inheritance last too long,” you smile, feeling heat burning up your face even if he can’t see you. “Just generally speaking.”
“Hope y’got the statistics t’back that one up -”
Another louder knock shakes you again, and you jump up as though someone had set you aflame. Your phone nearly slips out of your clammy grasp once more and you clear your throat, lowering the device to your shoulder and calling, “Just a second!” to whoever’s waiting impatiently outside. You raise your phone back to your ear and clear your throat again. “I’ve gotta go, Har. I’m in the bathroom at the club - been in here a bit too long.”
“Aright,” Harry says, and you can hear soft shuffling from the other end, audio still crackled by the reception. “Breakfast tomorrow?”
You tilt your head to the side, scrunching your nose up before remembering he can’t see you. “I think it’s tradition for the bride and groom not to see each other before the wedding, isn’t it?”
“Now you’re a stickler for tradition?”
“I’ll see you at the courthouse, Har,” you tell him, before pulling the phone from your ear and hanging up. For a second you can’t move, staring down at Harry’s contact in your phone with a giddy grin that surely makes you look like some child in a candy store - and, in a way, you are - and it’s only a third knock at the bathroom door that has you scrambling out the door, giving an apologetic grin to the girl waiting impatiently.
--
Being married - for the record - doesn’t feel too much different than before.
There’s a shiny ring on your finger that Harry had bought, and when you glance across the table where he’s sitting, clutching his menu, you can see the similar wedding ring on his left hand - it’s simplistic and small and contrasts with the rest of his clunky rings and it makes you feel strangely warm inside when you spend too long looking at it. And, even after you and Harry had talked at the club, your ‘post-elopement’ dinner doesn’t feel entirely different than all of the other dinner dates you’d shared before the entire situation began. It’s familiar and sweet and his ankle is hooked around yours under the table, forcing a permanent heat onto your cheeks.
Harry rests his menu on the table, fingertips drumming against the laminated paper, and you similarly drop yours to look at him. “Think m’gonna get the spaghetti.”
It’s a testament to the slight air of awkwardness surrounding you both that the only thing he can think to talk about is the food he’s getting - but you’ll play along. “I like the raviolis,” you tell him. “Think I’ll get those.”
He hums softly, pushing his menu further into the table. “Can y’believe tha’ we’re married? I can’t. Seems so weird.”
“Doesn’t feel that different,” you disagree, toes tapping against his ankle beneath the table. “It’s not like we didn’t go out for dinner together before we got hitched.”
“We’re playin’ footsies under the table, babe.”
You grin down at your napkin, resting on your lap on top of your wedding dress. “Be careful or I’ll kick you, Har.”
His ankle tightens just a bit around yours beneath the table and you could watch that small smile spreading across his face for the rest of your life. “Y’wouldn’t dare - don’t y’love me?”
Yes, you do, so you resist the urge to unhook your ankle from around his and deliver a swift kick to his calf - just rest your palms on the table, scratching lightly at the rustic wood of the table. It’s hard for you to even pretend to be mad at him when all you can think about is how much you want to climb over the table and straddle him - as his wife you suppose it isn’t an insane thought, and you’re nearly certain he’s feeling the same way. Hadn’t he told you he would have kissed you if he hadn’t been called by Anne? Maybe you’ll get a chance to do it again - later. You’ll never give up the opportunity again.
“When d’you get t’move into the house?” Harry questions, leaning in just a bit in his seat.
“A few months, I think.” You shrug. “Reckon I’ll start redecorating before then, though. I’m already looking at furniture - I’ve gotta save up for most of it, though. Might sell my apartment before then.” There’s a pause, and then you shrug once more, picking at a crack in the table. “I’ll probably move back in with my parents.”
Harry’s eyebrows are raised when you glance up at him, fingers paused in their drumming on the menu. “Are y’kidding? We’re married. You can move in wit’ me.”
“I can’t ask you to do that -”
“Not asking, are you? Even if we didn’t just elope at a courthouse, you’re still m’best friend. Can’t have you moving in t’your mum’s basement.”
You smile softly, flattening your palms against the table and craning your neck to examine the ring - proof that it had really happened, that you’re really married. It still doesn’t feel quite real, no matter how many times you and Harry casually talk about it. “Was gonna live in her attic, actually.”
Harry rolls his eyes. “I’ll pay f’the furniture, too. Don’t look at me like tha’ - s’our house. Needs t’be ready f’when we move in.”
You hesitate, trying poorly to conceal the way your grin is arching further upwards at the mere prospect of what he’s hinting at. Living with Harry? Jesus, even if you weren’t in love with him, living with him sounds like an absolute dream, only made better by your feelings for him. And picturing walking through an Ikea, searching for furniture, feeling his arm around your shoulders as you two look online for decorations - if heaven were a place on Earth, it would be your Aunt Alice’s estate, soon inhabited by you and your husband. “Well, we’ll talk about it, alright?” you land on as your response.
For a moment, neither of you say anything, and the silence isn’t as stifling with awkwardness as it had been before. Then Harry reaches over, resting his hand overtop of yours, fingers instinctively intertwining, and your heart nearly splits itself in two - he initiated it, holding your hand, and maybe you shouldn’t feel so surprised but you can’t fucking help it. Your scalp is tingling and you swear your eyes are going to bubble over and his hand feels just as soft and beautiful as you’d expected - as you’d always dreamed of.
You’re not sure when, exactly, there would ever be a better time to tell him than now, so you clear your throat and squeeze his hand and confess, “I’ve liked you for a really long time, Har.”
Sharing your feelings isn’t necessarily your strongest spot but you’re feeling egged on by absolutely everything, and the way Harry brushes his thumb against your palm encourages you to continue. “I mean - since we met, basically - but I never told you. Never thought you would like me back.”
“I did,” he interjects, and you look up at him with furrowed brows. “Liked you back, I mean. Clearly - hope y’didn’t think I’d run off an’ marry anybody this fast.”
“I just thought you were being nice.”
“You’re silly, then.”
“A real idiot,” you proclaim, rubbing soft circles into the back of Harry’s hand, and you swear you’ll never let go unless someone fucking rips you away. “Guess I should’ve figured it out, then - seems like we did everything in the wrong order, right?”
Harry snorts, a noise that draws the slightest attention from an older couple sitting at a table beside you, but neither of you pay them any attention. “Get married first, fall in love second.”
“I was already in love,” and you’re not sure why, exactly, you had said that but it feels right and true falling off your tongue so you decide, pointedly, not to regret it.
There’s no hesitation when Harry responds, voice laced with the authenticity you’re so desperately craving - “Reckon I was, too.” You barely get a minute to process that and how it’s making your stomach do flips and turns like an Olympic medalist before he’s standing up, fingers still interlocked with yours to pull you up with him. “How d’you feel ‘bout a sleepover tonight?”
“A sleepover?”
He barely looks at you as he fishes through the pocket of his dress pants to pull out his wallet. “Not like we haven’t had them before.”
That’s true - you’ve slept over at Harry’s house so many times, it’s like a second home to you - but you have a distinct idea that, based off of your previous conversation and the wedding rings shining on both of your fingers, this sleepover will be just a bit different.
“Skipping out on the reservation, then?” you question, squeezing Harry’s hand as he tosses a $50 onto the table - a significant overkill for your lemonade and his Coke but you suppose he’s feeling rather generous today. “I am rather hungry.”
“We’ll eat at my house,” he insists, leading you through the maze of tables with a grip that’s so tight, you wonder if he’s having the same qualms as you are about never letting go. “Y’like pizza, don’t you?”
--
You’ve been in Harry’s house more times than you can count, but it’s never been like this.
His hand is still firm in yours and it’s a feeling you adore - even if his palm has gotten clammier with every second, every step you took closer to his front door, and you can practically smell the nervousness rolling off of him. It’s not unlike the worry that’s overtaken you because you’re not quite sure what he’s expecting - only know what you want to happen and you pray to any god above that your desires align with his.
The sound of Harry shutting the door is the only crack of noise burning through the otherwise thick silence surrounding you. Neither of you had known what to say and the car ride was taken in comfortable silence, hands clasped and heads bobbing to soft music playing on the radio, but being in his house is different - there’s no music, no excuse for Harry to keep his eyes off of you, nowhere to lean your head and pretend to be resting your eyes while your heart uncontrollably thumps against your chest.
In ways, it’s better. Most ways, in fact.
Slowly, you turn to face Harry, fingers drumming against the back of his hand. His breathing is heavy and his eyes never leave yours, and you’re reminded remarkably of trying on your dress for the first time in front of him and your position hadn’t been too unlike this one - maybe now you can do it right.
It feels entirely natural, tilting your head up until you can easily slot your lips to Harry’s. They’re soft and plump and he kisses you back with a vigor you hadn’t quite expected - deepening it before you have the chance to react, his free hand that’s not clutching yours roaming to your neck and you can’t ignore the way your stomach flips at the feeling of his hand on your throat. But then his hand keeps moving up, palm pressing to your cheek in such a sweet gesture that doesn’t at all match the intensity with which he’s slipping his tongue into your mouth - your hand lands on his waist, gripping the flowy material of his dress shirt, pulling his body as close to yours as you can get.
You only pull away to catch your breath, grip tightening on his shirt to ensure he won’t move away - you need him close to you, need to feel his body against yours - the bulge near his thigh that you can feel against your pelvis, hardening with every second that passes.
“Why’d you move?” Harry questions, voice soft and vulnerable and you can’t help but lean up and land another kiss to his mouth.
“Had to breathe, Har,” you murmur, smoothing your hands against his waist and the wrinkles you’ve surely created in the fabric. His fingers brush the edge of your jawline and you can feel your skin growing goosebumps beneath his touch.
He simply hums in response, ducking his head down to kiss you again. It’s sweeter this time, soft and fluffy but you don’t want that now - God, you want his hand around your neck and his knee between your thighs but perhaps that’ll have to wait for another time. You’re needy for just about anything you can get and if that’s sugary sweet kisses, a touch so gentle you could trick yourself into believing it isn’t there, then you’re more than grateful.
Harry’s teeth dig into your bottom lip, hard enough to have you moaning into his mouth and your nails dig into his through his shirt - the resulting whine into your mouth has you smirking against his lips, pushing your hips further into his. It’s the clearest way you can think of to tell him that you need him beyond kisses and touches.
“Jesus,” he breathes and you can feel his cock, twitching against your thigh and it’s a sensation you never thought you’d be able to experience outside of your deepest dreams - it feels twice as good as you’d imagined. “Gonna make me go crazy, babe.”
That’s exactly what you want.
“Hey,” and you pull away from him, his forehead dropping against yours, his breath still hot on your face, “don’t we have to fulfill the tradition of consummating the marriage?”
He laughs, a loud exhalation of air rather than his true barking laugh, but you smile anyway at the sound. “S’not the middle ages - no one’s expecting us to, if y’don’t want to.”
“Of course I want to.” Harry’s hand slides backwards into your hair, pulling the strands into a ponytail and tugging and your resulting moan has him smirking like a smug bastard against your lips. “God, Har. I really want to.”
It seems that that was the exact response he’d wanted - you get one last lingering kiss to your lips before Harry’s pulling away, hand falling away from your hair and other still interlocked with your own. You don’t have a second to question where, exactly, he’s leading you but then he’s tugging you through the foyer and down the halls and up the staircase you’ve grown to know so well - the trek to his bedroom has never seemed so viciously long until now, but by the time Harry swings open the door, you feel as though you’ve been walking for hours instead of barely a minute.
“On the bed, babe,” he directs you, all raspy tone and dominance lacing every last syllable and you can’t ignore the gush of arousal you can feel rushing straight to your core. It’s the stuff that makes up dreams, really, his fucking voice, and you know just the four simple words would be enough to get you off for years from now. “C’mon.”
You wouldn’t dream of disobeying - your footsteps are nearly completely silent on the carpet as you walk over to the end of Harry’s bed, pushing yourself up to sit on the plush duvet, sinking into the mattress that feels like an absolute cloud compared to the rock you’re used to sleeping on. For a brief second, he doesn’t move - just stands and stares at you, chest heaving through the baby blue dress shirt that your needy grasp had wrinkled. Then he moves, shutting the door with a barely perceptible click before making his way over to you, gazing up at him with heat blazing in your eyes.
Perhaps you’re expecting him to push you onto the bed, to fulfill the dominant tone he’d held before, so it is a bit of a surprise to see your best friend (your husband) dropping to his knees before you, fingertips ever so gently trailing up and down your calves.
The bedroom is so silent, save for your panting breaths and Harry’s shaky ones and you reckon he may be more nervous than you are - you’d expected him to handle all of the confidence between you two but his fingers are shaking as he pulls off your heels, resting them side by side on the carpet at the end of the bed. Chills crop up over your skin as his gentle touch roams up your legs, landing on your knee, and your breath hitches in your throat as the man you’ve loved for nearly 5 years leans in, lips landing a soft kiss to the top of your calf.
This isn’t what you had expected - him fucking worshipping you, on his knees - you’d never pictured it in a million years. And maybe it’s proof of the difference between him and the other guys you’d been with - your ex-boyfriends and flings had always been worried about their pleasure, never paying you any attention, and Harry couldn’t be closer to the end of the spectrum. Your entire body feels warm beneath his watchful gaze and touch, how he brings one hand up to snap firmly when your eyes flutter shut.
“Look at me,” Harry directs, and despite the slight strain in his actions, his words still hold a never-faltering dominance that he’d had before. “C’mon, babe. I don’ want you to look away from me - can y’do that?”
It’s a task that’s easier said than done, but you nod anyway, swallowing thickly as Harry redirects his attention back to your legs. His hand, resting delicately on your left knee as though you’d break if he put too much pressure, slides down the length of your leg until he’s grasping your ankle, kneading the soft skin in his grasp while his lips linger at the top of your knee.
Using his grip on your ankle, Harry hoists your leg up onto the bed without warning, your toes digging into the end of the bed - uses his other hand to push your thigh outward so you’re on display for him like a goddamn feast and his smug grin proves that he can see just how wet you are, soaking through the white lace panties you’d chosen for the occasion. Heat blooms up your cheeks as he presses an open mouthed kiss to your thigh, teeth grazing your soft skin, and then he gives a dramatic inhale and - that’s -
You reach down, bracing both palms on the side of his face and forcing your husband (husband!) to look at you in the eye. He looks confused by your interjection and apologetic and that isn’t what you were going for but you hadn’t expected him to want to eat you out - most guys didn’t.
“You don’t have to do that, Har,” you murmur, giving a pointed glance to your lap that he’s been eyeing like it’s his dessert. “I won’t be mad.”
And Harry looks almost offended by the prospect of not wanting to, like you’d insulted him - “I want to. D’you not want me to?”
“Yes,” you reply, your voice hardly above a breath, and when he begins to pull away you continue. “No! I mean - yes, I want you to.”
He grins, wide and toothy and reminding you of exactly why you’d fallen for him in the first place, and you settle back into your spot on the bed with your nerves almost completely eradicated. He wants to - he’s not doing it because he feels obligated - it’s already a step up from any other guy you’d ever been with.
Fingers trail up your thighs as Harry’s lips close around the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, cheeks hollowing as he sucks a deep purple hickey, and you lift your hips just a bit so he can hook his fingers in the waistband of your panties and begin to tug them down. The crotch area is practically dripping with your arousal and it takes a bit more force to tug it away from your cunt but once they’re gone, Harry grabs your ankle again and straightens out your leg, making it easier for him to tug the offending material down your body and toss them away from the bed before resting your foot back on the edge.
You can hear his shaky breathing as he pulls his lips away from your thigh, thumb smoothing over the mark he’d left as if to prove it exists. You’d get it fucking tattooed if you could - to forever commemorate this experience - his mark in such a secretive place, just a breath away from where you need him most.
“Jus’ - jus’ tell me if y’want me t’stop,” Harry tells you, eyes interlocking with yours once more, and you jerk your head up and down once. “Lean back f’me, then - not too far, jus’ a bit - still need t’see you.”
So you lean back, propping yourself up on your arms, a barely reclined position from how you’d been sitting before. It’s easier to see him as he grabs the hem of your dress, tugs it up just a bit, but when you lift your hips so he can pull it out from under your ass he doesn’t comply - well, perhaps he has other plans with it, doesn’t want the dress to come off just yet, and you can respect that.
The time it takes for Harry to duck his head beneath your dress, tongue flicking against your overly sensitive folds, seems like fucking years even if it’s hardly a second, but when he does your hips instinctively jerk forward into his mouth. His eyes are flashing when he looks up at you and you breathe out a stream of apologies, heart thumping in your chest, fingernails digging into the comforter beneath you. “Don’ move,” he directs, and you nod again and again and you don’t stop until his lips close in around your clit.
Your head drops back with a low moan as Harry’s teeth graze your clit, cheeks hollowing as he sucks the sensitive nub like it’s what he was born to do. The bottom of your dress covers the top of his head so you can’t see what he’s doing - you have no idea what his next move is and it makes the pleasure rolling through your body that much better.
“Fuck - fuck, Har -” the only two words you can think to moan roll off your tongue like a mantra, your back arching upwards despite his warning not to move but he doesn’t mention it - just drags one hand up, fingertips light and dancing on your thighs until he can splay his forearm across your lower stomach, effectively pinning you to the bed. Your hand moves from digging into the sheets to digging into his scalp, tugging at the loose strands of hair that smell ever so slightly of gel and it makes your heart swell to imagine him putting product in his hair for the elopement - but before you have time to dwell on the sweetness of the sentiment, that talented tongue is licking a thin stripe up your folds before flicking your clit and you’re brought back to reality. “Fuck.”
“Feel good?” Harry mumbles, muffled where his face is pressed firm to your pussy and the vibrations of his words reverberate against your clit, sending a chill up your spine, and you let out a low whine at the sensation.
“Yes,” you breathe in return, tugging at his hair just a bit, the strands forming a makeshift ponytail like he’d done to you before. “Feels so good, Harry, god -”
His head pulls back just a bit, hem of your dress dropping to just the tip of his nose so you can see his eyes - smug and glinting and you’re sure that, if you could see his mouth, those lips would be upturned into a smirk and practically dripping with your arousal - but he goes back in just as soon as he’d pulled out, burying his face in the apex of your thighs and you collapse back against the bed with a shout.
Whatever order he’d given you to maintain eye contact disappears. It isn’t as though you can see his eyes anyway, and you couldn’t stop yours from rolling back into your head if you tried. Ecstasy rolls through your body and, God, you know you’re close already, thighs tensing under where Harry’s palm kneads the soft skin, hard enough that you’re sure you’ll see bruises tomorrow. Your cunt clenches and flutters around the emptiness you’re yearning to get rid of and your back arches up again, Harry’s restraint on your torso not enough to stop it now, and you’re so fucking close.
“Harry -” you moan, digging your fingernails into Harry’s scalp and relishing in his responding moan to your clit - “gonna cum, Har -”
He doesn’t say anything - but you can feel his tongue continuing its work, up and down your folds and circling your clit and that’s response enough. Your hips jerk into his face, back arching as you grasp his hair tight enough that it has to fucking hurt but then you’re cumming and -
“Oh, fuck!”
Your voice is high pitched, cracked with a desperate sob right in the middle of your words before you’re holding Harry’s head to your pussy, his tongue working your clit like he was born for it, his low moans muffled against you. The hand previously holding down your torso slides up your body until he can shove his hand into the top of your dress, tugging it down so your chest is. He plucks at your nipple before grasping your tit, full in his palm, and the added stimulation prolongs your orgasm, hips rolling against Harry’s working mouth.
You can’t see straight when Harry pulls his head out from the bottom of your chest but when your vision focuses you’re beyond thankful. His chin is glistening with your arousal, tongue poking out to lap at the moisture on his lips and he dons that shit-eating grin you’ve grown to know so well. You usually see it when he wins a board game or when you’re celebrating something - seeing it on his face after he’s finished giving you the best orgasm you’ve ever gotten is certainly different but not unwelcome by anyone’s standards.
There’s a second where all you do is lie back and catch your breath - staring up at the ceiling above you, chest heaving as the aftershocks race through your body. Harry, meanwhile, pushes himself to his feet, muttering a small groan about God, m’fuckin knees and gettin’ too old for this, aren’t I?
Lazily you hold your hand out towards him, wiggling your fingers, and he reaches out to interlock your fingers again. “How was that?” he questions, voice soft and almost insecure and it’s a sharp contrast from the dominance he held before, but you know it’ll come back.
“I think you’re a natural at that, Mr. Styles,” you tell him, squeezing his hand in reassurance as you pull him closer to you until his knees hit the bed and he’s forced to collapse on top of you, grin cracking onto his face. “Gonna undress me?”
“‘Course,” Harry murmurs, leaning down to place a brief kiss to your lips, but before you can lift your head to deepen it he’s rolling off of you, shifting onto his side and shuffling upwards so his head rests on the stack of pillows. You raise your eyebrows at him - it isn’t as though he can take your dress off from that position - but, as though he can read your mind, he raises his hand and pats his lower stomach pointedly. “Climb up, babe.”
For what seems like the millionth time today, you can feel heat pulsing in your cheeks but you hope it doesn’t show - just sit up, swing your legs around so you’re straddling Harry, hands on his chest and gazing down at him like the God he seems to be. His hair is splayed out on the pillows beneath him, bottom lip tugged between his teeth, and you can’t help yourself - lean down to land your lips to his again, and this time both of you allow it to deepen. His hand starts at your cheek like it had before but you reach for it, fingers wrapping around his wrist and maneuvering it downwards until his palm is wrapped around the column of your throat, and he squeezes once experimentally.
You moan softly, hips rolling against the pointed bulge in his dress pants, and Harry’s eyebrows raise. “No fuckin’ way,” he breathes, squeezing again just to hear the way your breath catches. “Gonna be th’fuckin’ death f’me.”
You’re fine with that, and you reckon he is too.
You reach behind you, tapping along your back until you can reach the zipper. You’ve only tugged it down an inch or two before Harry’s free hand replaces yours, dragging the zipper down as far as it can go before reaching for the bottom of the dress. It’s gone in an instant - tossed off the edge of the bed, to be worried about later - and you can feel his fingers fumbling with the clasp of your bra before it comes undone, and then you’re naked.
You’d expected yourself to feel more embarrassed, or perhaps just nervous, and maybe it’s the effects of your previous orgasm but you’re feeling surprisingly calm - or maybe it’s how Harry looks up at you like you’re some sort of goddess sent from above, as though he’s never seen anything more beautiful.
It does wonders for your self esteem, truthfully.
“Gonna undress me, then?” Harry questions, hands smoothing up and down your thighs, eyes drinking in every bit of your exposed body on top of him.
You hum softly, pinching at the soft material of his shirt. “I don’t think so - want you to fuck me in your fancy clothes.”
“Well, if I’d known tha’ was an option -”
“Do you want me to put the dress back on?”
“No!”
You grin down at him before rolling your hips over his again, and it’s the last thing you manage to do before his grip lands on your hips and he’s flipping you over - your head lands dangerously close to hitting the headboard but it’s worth it, seeing him above you, fully clothed, pupils lust-blown and wide.
It hardly takes a second for Harry to undo the button to his pants and the sound of the zipper being undone is like music to your fucking ears - you spread your legs, letting him slot his body between them and oh, you can feel the tip of his fucking cock it’s right there and -
The first movement, Harry pushing himself inside of you, has you throwing your head back against the pillow, the moan coming from your throat mixing with a cry. He’s big - certainly bigger than you’d ever expected and bigger than any guy you’d been with - feels like he could split you in half if he wanted to but he stops, hands smoothing up and down your body, and you make a point of reaching for his hand and interlocking your fingers.
You’ll never grow tired of holding his hand, you think. Not for a while, anyway.
“How’re you doin’?” he questions, voice strained, and when your eyes shift back to him you can see the droplets of sweat beaded on his face. “Jus’ - jus’ tell me when, alright?”
“When,” you breathe almost immediately. You hadn’t needed too much time to adjust but you need him to move - you’re so pent up and you know it won’t take long to take you to your second orgasm but, God, he needs to fucking move. “Please, Har - please, fuck me.”
It doesn’t seem he needed much more encouragement than that. With one final move of wrapping his free hand firm around your neck and giving another small squeeze, Harry pulls out agonizingly slowly until just the tip of his cock remains in your heat. Just as you open your mouth to beg him to move again he slams back in with a force you hadn’t anticipated, your body rocking backwards of its own accord with the weight behind the thrust.
It’s exactly what you’d needed, though - fast and rough and his hand, cutting off your airflow just a bit, just enough to have you quivering beneath him. The low groan that rips out of his throat, reverberating through the humid bedroom has you pushing your hips up to his, trying to deepen where he’s buried inside of you to the hilt but you’re not sure how much deeper he could get. Feels like he could split you in half with every desperate thrust, every rut of his hips into yours and yours back into his.
“Oh - god - m’fuckin’ good girl, so tight around m’cock -”
Another rush of arousal gushes straight to your core with his filthy words and your head falls back into the pillow with a high whine, nails digging into the back of his hand as his other one tightens grip around your neck. It makes every desperate moan and cry that much airier and you can tell Harry likes it, staring down at you as his hips pound yours with absolutely no mercy and you don’t want any, anyway. It’s the subject of every single fantasy you’ve ever had about him, rough and hard and the sound of skin slapping skin overpowering your needy noises.
You’d never dreamt it would feel so good.
“Oh god, Harry!” Your eyes are rolling back into your head as your free hand trails down your stomach, shaking fingers focusing on your ignored clit and beginning tight circles around the nub. The jolts of pleasure that run through your body are - god, fucking amazing and you know you’re close, hardly need anything else to tip you over the edge. “Gonna - gonna cum, Har -”
It’s a testament to, perhaps, the long-growing tension between the two of you that his head drops backwards with a cry of me, too in a tone that’s so desperately vulnerable and it’s exactly what you’d needed - the reminder, in the midst of the rough thrusts and desperate moans, that this isn’t a one time thing. If you both allow it, it’s the rest of your life, just like this - and, God, you’ll allow it.
Your cunt clenches around your cock as you cum, eyes rolling back into your head and body spasming beneath him. In the midst of it Harry pulls out and you don’t get a second to question the sudden emptiness before you feel a familiar warmth hitting your lower stomach, and you open your eyes in time to see your husband, hand working at his cock as ribbons of cum spurt onto your stomach.
(You think you could cum again just from the sight but - well, you’ll hold back.)
His breathing is choppy and desperate, broken occasionally by a needy moan until he’s finished and he collapses on his back beside you, hands still intertwined with no intention of letting go. Nothing needs to be said - not yet - not for a little while, where you’ll talk about it more.
A little while ends up merely being a minute or two before Harry swings his legs over the edge of the bed, hand still clasped in yours, and makes to stand up - it’s only your tightening grasp on his hand that forces him to stop, glancing behind him to look at you.
“Don’t,” you plead, throat already feeling sore and voice raspy. “Just - another minute, alright? Then clean up.”
He hums softly but you know he won’t resist the prospect of just a brief cuddle - one of the few things you hadn’t done often when you were just friends, because you knew that, if Harry held you as close to him as he is now, lips pressed to your forehead, you wouldn’t be able to resist telling him how you felt about him.
Doesn’t matter now, though. And his arms feel so warm around you, clammy palm still pressed to yours like a fucking couple in middle school but you wouldn’t dream of letting go. It’s all so - so peaceful, lying with him and listening to his heartbeat as you rest your head to his chest, listening to his heartbeat thumping as fast and hard as yours is.
And - well. Barely a month ago you were convinced your Aunt Alice was the worst woman in the world - a hypocrite and an asshole, set out to taunt you by lording your dream home over you and snatching it away when you couldn’t find a husband in time. But now? Feeling Harry, landing soft kisses again and again to your forehead, you figure she’s not so bad, after all.
#harry styles x reader#harry styles smut#harry styles fluff#harry styles imagine#harry styles blurb#harry styles writing#harry styles angst#best friend!harry styles#loose ankles#lol#one of my fav things ive written#i got carried away during the smut.... sorry
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Soul Eater Kilik Rung x Reader - Remedial Lessons
Summary: You and the rest of Kilik’s team are forced on a camping retreat with Stein as a form of remedial lessons
(W/N)= Weapon name
You and your weapon arrived at the front steps of the school at five sharp, dressed in your comfiest outfits. You were honestly relieved to finally be able to wear something a bit more comfortable than your normal uniform.
"Hi (Y/N)!" Kim yelled as you pocketed your phone and walked to the group.
"Hey Kim, Jackie." you nodded to them both.
"So why are you here (Y/N)? I thought you nabbed a soul last week." asked a familiar voice. Two star meister, Kilik Rung had been the object of your affection for years. You just couldn't help but admire the amount of talent, power, and control he possessed.
"Well, I let Tsubaki have the soul. Her and Black Star were there with (W/N) and I, and really saved our butts. We thought they deserved it more than we did." you explained, recalling the last mission you had.
"Wow, (Y/N), that's pretty noble of you, considering you saved them from extra lessons." he complimented with a smirk, earning a blush from you.
"O-Oh, thanks." you blushed a bit, before shifting the attention away from you. “So why are you guys here?”
"Well Kim and I...lost our target this week." Jacqueline hung her head in shame.
"And us?" Kilik motioned to Thunder and Fire. "We had a little mishap during our last mission." he chuckled nervously, crouching down, allowing the twins to come to his sides. "Turns out, these guys aren't too fond of complete darkness. They got scared, and we couldn't complete our mission."
Just as you were about to respond, Professor Stein came into view. "Alright class, welcome to your remedial lesson. I have to assure you that this lesson won't be easy. In fact, it'll be even more grueling than your usual training, which is why it will last your entire weekend. I hope this convinces you all to start taking your lessons more seriously," the teacher adjusted his classes. "Because they will be occurring weekly. And trust me, you don't want me to see you back next week. Understood?"The class agreed, sharing groans and nervous chuckles.
"Alright, I've come up with a bracket. Each of you will square off with each other. Since we have four teams with us today, that won't be so hard." Stein held up a clipboard that depicted the bracket. " First, we will have (Y/N)'s Team against Kim's, and Kilik's Team against Ox's. The winners of those rounds will face off against each other, and so will the losers." You gulped, knowing exactly what these girls we capable of. Your partner transformed into a shotgun and wouldn't do much of anything against Jackie's attacks.T
he four of you stood in a clearing, waiting for Stein to give the go ahead. Your weapons transformed and you took a fighting stance, peeking through the scope of the gun. As soon as Stein gave the signal, you felt a intense heat rush passed your shoulder, followed by a round kick from Kim's shoe, hitting you directly in the side. You gasped for air, trying to catch your breath, flattening yourself against the dirt, just in time to avoid another bout of flame.
Just like before, Kim followed with a kick. This time you caught her foot, before twisting it and sending her to the ground, kicking the flamethrower away. Pinning Kim on her stomach, you held your gun against the back of her neck, as a restraint, until a whistle blew, signaling that the match was over. Looking to the side, you noticed that Kilik's match was already over, him and the twins taking a lecture from Ox.
You bent down to lend Kim a hand, while your partner did the same for Jackie. Y-You didn't shoot me?" she asked, taking your hand. you smiled gently.
"Of course not, Kim, you're my friend. Is your neck okay? I felt like I pushed (W/N) into it kinda hard." you asked, slightly concerned as you pulled her to her feet.
"No, no, I'm fine. Are you okay? I didn't mean to kick you so hard..."You smiled again.
"I'm fine. Just winded me a bit, but that just shows how strong you are! Great job, Kim."
"Thanks, you too." She said with a smile, walking over to Ox, and immediately grimacing.You blushed noticing Kilik making his way over to you.
"That was some take down, (Y/N). Great job!" he complimented, offering a high five, which you took. As the two of you got into position again, you could feel you hands begin to shake. You knew he was wicked strong, and that he was going to wipe the floor with you. That much was certain, but you didn't have to make it easy for him.Shotgun in hand, you used the barrel to defend against the think iron gauntlet that threatened to slam into your face. Kilik used this opportunity to send a shock of electricity through your body, which reduced you to the dirt. You heard heard him chuckle."Sorry, (Y/N), but I can't let you beat me as easily as you did Kim."
"Come on, (Y/N)! You have to get up! For Death's sake, use me for something!" you partner shouted, prompting you to use the last bit of your energy to squeeze (W/N)'s trigger, not staying conscious long enough to see what you hit. Your head hit the dirt softly. The match was over.Kilik's dark eyes widened as the twins transformed back and he raised his hands to his face. Sliding off his glasses, he smirked upon noticing the right lenses was shattered. You had hit him, and he was proud of that.
Minutes later, after you came to, Stein had decided to call it a day. "Ok class, I have your sleeping arrangements. In the first tent, we have, Kilik, Thunder, Fire, (Y/N) and (W/N)" Stein said winking at you. Stein was a friend of your family, and often the person you went to, other than your partner when you needed advice or to vent. And of course, he knew all about your little crush on Kilik. "And then we have Kim, Jaqueline, Ox, and Harvar in the second tent."
After everyone got settled into camp, while Stein went to find a few new specimens, you all sat around the fire. You had brought along a ukulele for just this such occasion, and were absent mindedly strumming away. "Hey (Y/N), sing something!" Your partner yelled as you blushed and turned away, in rejection.
"Come on, I bet your real good." Kilik encouraged with a friendly smile.
"Fine.." you mumbled with a sigh. "Any requests?"
"Oh, can you play Buttercup by Jack Stauber?" Jacqueline asked excitedly. You began to strum, taking on a smooth, tone.
"Forget it, I'll do it sometime. I'm locked up on the button. Can't you do it sometime? Pushed it up too far..." you sang, eyes closed.When you finished, everyone clapped except for Kilik. He, sitting right beside you, threw an arm around your neck and gave you a gentle noogie.
"Told ya you'd be good!" He gushed excitedly. You blushed as he held his embrace for a solid minute.
After a bit, you all decided to retreat to your tents. Kilik and Fire had stepped out of the tent you let you and Thunder change close in privacy, while (W/N) was out using the restroom.
"We're finished..." you called softly as the two boys ducked back into the tent, followed by your partner. You were sitting on your sleeping bag that was between (W/N)'s and Kilik's. (W/N) pulled out a handheld gaming console and started to play a video game, catching Fire's fasination, as the little pixelated sprite collected coins.
Kilik sat in front of you on his own sleeping bag, and Thunder sat behind your slouching form and proceeded to brush you hair. "So, (Y/N), wanna talk?" the meister in front of you asked.
"About what?" you answered with a question.
"Well, anything really. It's just that we don't really know much about each other, you know? I mean, we're on the same team and it just pays to know your friends on a personal level. That's all." he replied smugly.
"Oh, yeah, definitely." you said with a nervous smile.
"So, are nervous about making (W/N) into a death weapon?" he asked.
"Yes and no...I mean it's a bit scary to think about what will happen to them afterwards, but at the same time, it's is an incredible honor." you said with an exhausted expression.
"I can see that" he commented, as an awkward silence fell over the two."Hey, listen, I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have shocked you so hard." he said suddenly, looking to the side.
"Don't be sorry! I know you could've done a lot worse. And I'm sorry for breaking your glasses." Kilik chuckled, taking the off and setting them to the side.
"Don't sweat it. I got extra pairs."This conversation continued for almost two hours. You heard soft snoring all around you. Looking behind you, you see that Thunder had gone to cuddle with her brother and your weapon, who were all snoozing away.
"Maybe, we should get some sleep..." you suggested sheepishly. He nodded before turning away to lay down.
Nearly an hour had passws before Kilik wasroused from his slumber by the sensation of petite arms snaking around his torso. He blushed a bit, glancing over to find you snuggled up to him, sleeping hard against his back. He noted how cute you looked with your cheeks squished against him as a surface, before wonder why he’d never noticed before. He had seen you sleep in class more than once, and it wasn’t uncommon to find you dozing off during study sessions with friends.
He suddenly froze, feeling your delicate hands wander to his chest from his stomach. A part of him wanted to roll over and scoop you up into his arms, but the other half told him not to move, convinced he might scare you off, like a doe crossing a highway. After minutes of contemptlation, Kilik finally wrapped his arms around you, mimicing your cuddle. As soon as he did, however, his fears came to life and you startled awake.
You shot out of his arms, sitting up, and cradling your knees for comfort. "Oh Death, Kilik! I'm so sorry!" you cried, turning away from him to hide your fluster.
Kilik’s instincts instructed him to snake his arms around her waist, engulfing her in warth and comfort. "Ya know, (Y/N), if you wanted to cuddle, you coulda just asked." he chuckled, waiting for you to roll over. When you finally did, he smashed his lips yours, cupping your cheek and gently stroking it with his calloused thumb.
You actually began to kiss back much faster than he thought you would, not that he minded. Kilik smirked and slid a lick of tongue along you bottom lip as your lips parted. I took the advantage to explore her mouth and twirl her tongue with mine. He took took the chance to take note of the literal sweetness of your saliva, you tasted like vanilla.
As you parted, you shyly licked her lips, breaking the strand of drool that had connected us. He panted, unable to catch his breath, lost in the moment, before snapping back to reality. Finally, he wiped my mouth with the back of his knuckle before looking away.
"Shit, sorry, (Y/N). I guess I didn’t really have any right to kiss you like that. You were just trying to get comfortable and-" He rambled, coming back to his sensesm before you interpreted him with a short, sweet peck on the lips. His chocolate eyes softened as he continued. "(Y/N), would you like to be my girlfriend?" I asked, unable to take my eyes off of her.
"I would..." she answered shyly, before smiling and snuggling into my chest. I kissed her on the forehead as we both drifted into a restful sleep.
The sound of Professor Stein shouting startled you awake the next morning."Wake up, children!" he almost sang. "Congratulations students, you just survived the night in a forest where hundreds of kishins roam every night!" he exclaimed, way too cheerfully.
"Youve got to be kidding me..." Kilik whispered as he crawled out of the tent, in shock that a teacher would leave students in such a dangerous situation.
"And you've still got a whole day and another night to go! So let's get to training!"
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