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multific · 5 months

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Constellation

Wolf Yautja x Reader

Summary: You loved living alone in your cottage. You moved out to be alone for a reason, you hated people, and you wanted to be left alone. And you were alone until a certain pair of eyes started following you.

You saw the news on the TV.

Aliens.

And yet you ignored it.

You tried to live the life you wanted for so long as best as you could.

For as long as you could.

You still took care of your land, fed your animals and did your daily chores as usual.

You did see a couple of ships pass over your home but nothing more.

You have never seen an alien. Only on TV.

It appeared that they were fighting.

Then the government decided to nuke the city to kill both aliens.

It looked like it was the end of it all.

But little did you know, for you, it was only the beginning.

You had a feeling that you were being watched.

The feeling not quite leaving you alone. You tried to look. You walked around your land, in the woods, nothing, no one.

Could it be that you were becoming more and more paranoid? Could it be because of isolation?

You were imagining things.

Until one evening, when you heard noises inside your house.

Loud distinctive noises of someone walking around.

Fear struck you.

You couldn't move out of bed. You just laid there, blankets up to your chin as you were shaking. Your heart beat out of your chest as the door to your room opened.

The person was huge, way too tall for a human, they had to dodge under the door to move in.

Then, came a clicking sound.

This is when you realized, this was no human.

There was a God damn alien in your home!

You knew you couldn't do anything. This thing could tear you apart in a matter of seconds.

You pretended to be asleep, hoping it would leave.

It watched you for a minute or two, which for you felt like an eternity before it left.

After the alien creature left, you rushed to see how it got in.

All doors and windows were locked from the inside. But you surely heard its footsteps moving into the woods next to your home.

You were utterly confused.

How did it get in?!

Why did it get in? What did it want?

It didn't take anything, it didn't hurt you, so what could it want?!

For the upcoming days, you didn't sleep.

The thing came every night, sometimes late in the night sometimes earlier. It just stood there and did nothing.

By the third time you were considering asking it what did it want. Or staying awake to see how it would react.

But you were too afraid.

Then two weeks later, as you were leaving your home, the skull of a deer with antlers was on your porch. It was placed there delicately, facing the door so you wouldn't miss it.

You were sure it was the alien.

Was this its sign to show you that it could kill you? You already knew that.

You took the skull and left it on your porch. You thought if you ignored it long enough, it would get tired and just leave you alone.

But it didn't.

The next day, another animal skull was placed on your steps. Looked to be a cat or a dog.

Then, something like a fox and finally, a wolf skull.

You began to have quite a collection. But you didn't understand. Was this thing trying to intimidate you?

It was working.

You just refused to leave because you spent your life building this place into a home.

But, was your life worth staying?

It showed that it could easily kill you.

But then why was it hiding?

Why did it already kill you and take what it wanted?

What did it want?

--- 2 months ago ---

Yautja prided themselves if they died during a fight.

It was the most honourable death they could ever ask for.

He fought many xenomorphs. One even left its scar on him.

And yet, now as he was fighting, he survived.

He got back on his ship and left, but his ship got damaged and it broke down in the woods.

Wolf had to fix his ship so he could go back to Yautja Prime.

On his way to find some materials he could use he stumbled upon a farm, he knew some humans lived out in the wild in their houses, away from other humans.

He hid behind a tree and observed, trying to figure out if this human opposed any danger to him.

The first time he saw you was when you took care of your crops.

He concluded that you were nothing but a harmless little human.

And yet, for the next two weeks, he found himself watching you. He sat up on the tree and watched you all day and fixed his ship all night.

He walked around your crops, looking at everything.

To him, it was clear that you were a provider. Much like the females on his planet, you took care of food while the males hunted.

But you had no male. Which was quite interesting to him.

How come no male humans wanted you as their mate?

One night, he got brave and decided to go inside the house while you slept.

He checked your home and found nothing of interest besides you.

He watched as you slept.

He stood there for hours, watching you.

You were so different from him, yet so similar.

You preferred to be alone, much like him.

You didn't have a mate, much like him.

He liked you. Which was extremely rare for him. During his life, he never looked for anyone like he did for you.

And so, he made his decision.

He will court you, win you and bring you back to his planet.

It was a simple plan for him.

And so, the first skull was placed on your doorstep.

You yawned as you got out of the bath, heading to the kitchen for some water before heading to bed, you stopped in your tracks.

It was here.

It was standing right in front of you. It was huge and grey and green and tall and... and you nearly fainted.

You knew you couldn't fight this thing.

You had no chance against it.

It raised its hands and pulled its helmet off, revealing its face.

This alien looked a lot like the one you saw on the TV once.

The one that fought the other.

You noted the scar on its face as it made a clicking sound. It started to walk towards you, you backed up into the fridge.

It raised its hand and placed a palm against your cheek. You looked into its eyes for the first time.

And somehow, you felt calm.

It made you calm down.

He made you calm down.

"What do you want?" you asked, hoping he would understand.

But he just made the same clicking sound as he did before.

"Why did you leave the skulls?" you asked and he moved his hand to the armour on his wrist and pushed a couple of buttons.

"Gi-fts." said a very broken robotic voice.

"Why did you leave me gifts?" you watched as he pushed more buttons.

"Gifts for Mate."

"Mate?" you asked and he nodded. Realization hit you and you realized, he was leaving you gifts so that he could court you. This must be an alien custom. "What are you?"

"Yautja."

"What's your name?"

"Wolf." the machine seemingly translated his name, but it was okay. "Your name?"

"My name is Y/N."

He nodded again.

"I want to take you to my planet. So we can marry." your eyes widened.

"Marry?"

"Strong female," he pointed at you, "Strong male." you would have assumed that he would have some issue having to marry you, wouldn't they only marry their own?

"Give me time. Two months. T-Then I will go with you." what were you saying? Why did you say that?! You didn't want to go! But you had no other options! This... Wolf clearly would get what he wants.

Maybe... those two months will be enough for you to get used to the thought.

Maybe those two months will be enough for you to grow some form of attachment.

Maybe... hopefully.

For the next two months, he stayed with you in the house.

The first week there was a lot of rain and storm so you were inside.

Most of the time you just kept looking at him or watched TV. He didn't speak, but he did notice the skulls you put up above your fireplace.

It filled him with pride, it meant you liked his presents.

That you accepted his courting.

For the upcoming days you cooked for both of you, since you weren't exactly sure what food he liked, you tried steak with potatoes. You can't go wrong with that.

And you didn't. He enjoyed it very much. Then the next day, he brought you cut meat, from where you were afraid to ask.

But you did cook everything that he brought to your home.

And he ate it all.

He still watched as you slept.

But instead of panicking, you found yourself enjoying having him there. He made you feel safe and you found that you wouldn't be able to fall asleep without him in the room.

You woke up each and every morning more and more comfortable in his presence, which did make you worry.

Turned out, you didn't hate company, you hated human company.

Wolf being the big alien that he was tried his best to be careful around you. He followed you everywhere, he watched you and learned.

He learned a lot about you from just watching you in the woods, but now, now he knew even more.

He saw the way you worked, how gentle and delicate you could be. But he also watched you chop up wood, showing that you can be strong when need be.

He liked it.

He was proud to pick such an amazing Mate.

It was the last day, two months had gone by and his ship was ready, he was ready.

He entered your house and found you in the kitchen, you looked out your window as if trying to memorize everything. But when you realized that he was behind you, you turned and smiled at him. A gesture he wished he could give back.

"I'm almost ready." you said with a heavy heart, but you were also ready to leave and be with Wolf, see where that path would take you.

And you felt ready for the adventure, it scared you but you felt ready.

You just wanted to remember this place.

You looked back out the window when he came up behind you, standing behind you, you felt his huge body but you didn't feel scared.

It felt good.

He felt safe.

He was a good two heads taller than you.

You didn't say a word as you turned around and looked at him. You really looked at his scar and his eye. You knew he still could see with it, but his vision wasn't the best on that one.

You could also assume that one of his... mandibles was missing. It's place is still present.

You wished you could ask, you wished he could tell you. He lowered himself, allowing you to reach his face as you reached up and ran your fingers down his scars.

You wished you were there to help him, you could have eased his pain.

And, just like that, you were ready.

--- 3 years later ---

Yautja Prime was very different from Earth.

Yautja were very different from humans.

You learned that Wolf was quite the loner. His name fit him very well.

He preferred to be alone in his home, working on his ship or head on a mission for a hunt.

He liked being with you.

You two were very similar.

You didn't enjoy the company of others, but you enjoyed having the others around.

On your wedding night, Wolf told you how Yautja found their mates.

He also told you about true mates. Which is what you would call soulmates.

He explained how he felt as if you two were true mates and you didn't agree at the time, but now you did.

Spending your last three years with him, you can confidently say that you are in love with him.

You only feel complete when he is there.

And from what he told you, he felt the same. You wore the necklace he gifted you with pride.

And you waited for him every day when he was away on a hunt. He always came back victorious with many gifts.

He proved his worth to you as a male and a Mate.

And so, you never once regretted coming with him. Even if you were nervous in the beginning.

He made sure you had a warm bed, filled with furs.

Every night he came to the bed, he held you close to him, keeping your smaller body close and safe.

You slept with the confidence of having him there. Knowing he would protect you if anything was to happen.

Not like anything ever did.

You found yourself not missing your old life.

The view you spent so much time trying to memorize, long forgotten.

All because of him.

You woke up every morning in his arms.

His body wasn't warm nor was it cold. But the feeling of his skin under your fingers always lets you know that he was there.

And you couldn't ask for more.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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asratery · 11 months

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Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Man!Male Reader Pt. 3

Miguel gets his face f_cked just like you promised(?) him. Also you're not being a very good partner atm :( but y'all will prevail 😇

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

cw: dildo :D, attempted edging, masturbation, self-consciousness, slight angst, slight communication issues, sexual frustration, oral sex (receiving), crying. miguel is a crybaby, dirty talk, hair pulling, mmm eye contact, pet names, rimjob, implied anal sex

Heyy 😀 so yea i mentioned at the end of pt. 2 that i wanted to write miguel giving head so here we are

(word count: 4.6K+)

Miguel had found it to be particularly frustrating that you preferred emotional intimacy over physical. You completely bamboozled him, making him believe that you were some secretly sexual being after your first night together, but your lack of initiation in anything past kissing afterwards had disproved this. Don't get him wrong, he loved that you always had an open ear to listen to him vent or give him advice, whether it be through an earpiece while you were traveling through some random Earth or while you sat in his office, filling out paperwork for a recent mission. But the man had needs, and he so badly wanted you to put your hands on him as of lately.

He found himself pulling up audios of you from your missions, fucking himself on fingers that couldn't compare to the thickness of yours, desperately rutting into his pillows while you stayed in your own dimension, dealing with business in the day and villains in the night.

"Fuck." Miguel groaned out, his legs bent to his chest and spread wide as he slid two digits along his walls. He couldn't reach that bundle of nerves that your cock so perfectly rocked against when you fucked him. Fuck, how long has it been? Two months? Three? You both had mutually decided not to initiate sex or anything physically strenuous again until you had fully recovered. Which was six weeks ago. What the hell were you holding off on? There's no way there were so many villains you had to take care of in your world that you couldn't come spend a night with your boyfriend.

Miguel wanted to cry. He'd spent the past hour trying to edge himself, but he couldn't even bring himself close, his fingers weren't enough to satisfy the heat in his core that was begging for you. Miguel's eyes darted over to his nightstand. He still had a couple toys left in his the bottom drawer. He bought them only three weeks after you joined the Society, unable to hold back his own fantasies at the time. He would spend nights pretending it was you as he'd pump the lacking imitation inside him, and to think that he got that reality only months ago with an even bigger 'toy' gave him a sense of pride.

He slid the drawer open, dipping his hand down to grab a very familiar friend. The toy was six inches in length and four in girth, incomparable to your hard ten inches, but it was going to have to suffice for tonight. Miguel felt embarrassed at the sight of it, sneaking it out of the drawer even in the privacy of his room. He always felt unexplainably shy about these things, not afraid to let you stare at him as he preps himself, but to fuck himself with a toy in seclusion? How humiliating.

Miguel pressed the tip of the dildo to his prepped hole, the damned thing fluttering at the feeling. He wanted you so badly. He didn't think he could even put it into words. The toy slid in easily, giving Miguel a feeling of fullness, but only a fraction compared to you. The tip just barely brushed against his prostate, causing his thighs to tremble at the feeling. It felt like the toy was fucking taunting him, just skirting over the neediest part of him, reminding him of the lacking presence of you in his bed. Inside him. If Miguel knew you were going to have the libido of a monk, he would've tied you up in his home the day you were released from the infirmary. But he didn't. And now he was laying in his bed, rocking an inadequate replacement into his hole, on the verge of tears as his shaky hand stroked his weeping cock.

Fuck, was it him? Was he acting like a horny teen or was he just not enough for you? The thought sprung tears into his eyes, the self-consciousness he had once abandoned returning even heavier in his chest. Miguel was already nervous about the age gap between you two, being seven years older, but the thought of you in your own world, surrounded by beautiful men and women during your work days, using your charm to secure deals for your own business, had warm tears spilling down the sides of his face. He bit his bottom lip, willing himself to not let out a sob as he kept moving the toy inside him, his other arm wrapped under his knees, keeping his thighs pressed to his chest.

Miguel was a pathetic sight at the moment. If you could see him like this, it would've broken your heart. But you weren't there. You were at some elaborate dinner, speaking with political figures from around your world, flashing toothy grins and shaking hands, oblivious to your own neglectful behavior. The night was long, and Miguel spent it weeping.

Most people in the Spider Society were aware that there was something romantic between you two, whether it be the bashful look on Miguel's face when you walked into a room, the way you'd wrap one of your Herculean arms around his waist and pull him into a tight hug before hopping through a portal for your next mission, or the way Miguel would just blatantly eyefuck you when you'd speak even just a few words during meetings. Some were surprised, some weren't. The only real surprise though was just how much more relaxed Miguel became after you’d joined the Society, trusting your intellect enough to make plans of action as well as challenge his own decisions with your ideas. Even with your silent nature, just your presence alone seemed to make Miguel’s life a lot less tense.

So when Miguel walked into HQ looking worryingly exhausted the following morning, most of the spider people spared a second glance at their boss as he made his way to his office. He couldn't cum last night. Not even once. He had to stand on shaky legs, moving to the bathroom for a cold shower as he admitted defeat. And then he cried into his pillows. Maybe he was right in his worries a few months ago. Maybe this was just a quick fuck on your end and maybe the sweet words you whispered into his ear that night were to keep him hooked on you. He sat in the office chair in front his desk as Lyla booted up the system. She didn't mention anything, simply giving Miguel a worried look as he rubbed his hands over his tired face. She knew it was about you, but she also knew not to mention it.

The door to the office creaked open as Jessica made her way in, quickly swinging up to the platform before approaching him. "You look tired." She said in a low tone, placing a coffee on Miguel's desk as she sipped at her own. "Didn't sleep well last night?" Miguel gave her a slight glare that confirmed her suspicions before turning his gaze back to his monitors. "Was busy with work." He mumbled back, clicking away on a keyboard. Jessica gave a confused glance at Lyla, who returned the gesture. She dropped down to the lower platform, approaching the briefing table as she flipped through pages and pages of documents you had filled over the past few weeks for anomalies you successfully hunted down. "Huh, y/n forgot to fill out the papers for the anomaly on Earth-XX." Jessica murmured. "I'll call him in." Miguel's half-lidded eyes widened at her words, quickly turning in his chair to rush to the edge of his platform.

Before he could even get a word out, Jessica had already sent an alert out to your wristwatch. Miguel groaned, muttering something in Spanish before nearly shouting at her. "You didn't need to call him in, he—I could've just filled it out myself." "Yes, but you wouldn't have all the details y/n has. You know how descriptive he is in his summaries." She replied, crossing her arms. She didn't understand why Miguel was being so anal about the topic. "Just... Just go, I'll explain it to him when he gets here." Miguel muttered, placing his head in his hands before receding to sit back in his chair. Jessica raised an eyebrow at Lyla, who shrugged in response, before giving him a curt farewell and leaving his office.

You didn't come. You were busy in your world, and the alert Jessica sent told you it wasn't anything immediate. Miguel could feel his heart fluttering at the idea of you visiting HQ after so long, but as the hours passed, that excitement was slowly chipping away before he was eventually left with the same feelings of disappointment he felt the previous night.

You had finally found the time to visit HQ well into the night, being able to slip away from the banquet hall before forming a portal with your wristwatch, taking a step through and finding yourself in your boyfriend's office. Miguel was already sat at the briefing table, the surface scattered with your papers as he analyzed your handwriting. You approached him, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder before leaning down, pressing a kiss to the side of the silent man's forehead.

You placed a short stack of papers on the table, your hand still resting on his shoulder. "I already filled the papers out, took a copy of them home with me a while back but forgot to bring them back in." You murmured, a soft look in your sharp eyes as you looked down at Miguel, whose eyes were now focused on his intertwined hands in his lap. Just when you were about to speak again, Miguel beat you to it. "We need to talk." He said in a low tone. You pulled a chair next to him, moving to sit down as he stood from his own chair. You grabbed his hips, forcing him to face you as you looked up at him, not letting him move from his standing position between your legs. "Talk to me, cariño." You murmured, hoping to comfort him with your words. It did the opposite, tears welling in Miguel's older eyes, a flash of despair in his expression that had you shocked.

You quickly stood from your chair, sliding your hands up to wrap around his waist, pulling him flush against you. You felt confused as you felt his gloved hands weakly press against your chest, trying to create distance between you two. You gave him only a few inches of space, though you kept your arms tightly wound around him. “Oh, baby.” Your voice was soft at the sight of a few stray tears trickling down his pretty face as his hands stayed pressed against your chest. It would've been comforting if he wasn't still pushing against you. "Miguel." You said firmly, your tone prompting him to stop resisting, instead resting his hands in their position as he leaned his head forward, his forehead pressed against the top of your suit vest.

Miguel was trying so hard to stay angry with you, but you looked so damned good in your full black suit. How dare you come to his office dressed to the nines after depriving him of sex for so long? Your hand came up to hold the back of his hair, your chin resting on the top of his head. "Was this a mistake?" Miguel asked in a whisper, his eyes screwed shut when you grabbed his shoulders, pulling away to look down at him in shock. He was immediately filled with regret when he opened his eyes again to be met with the hurt in your gaze. "Where is this coming from?" You asked in a low tone as you looked down at him, taking notice of the extended fangs peeking out of his mouth. A sign of frustration. Frustration from what exactly?

"Are you serious?" Miguel responded with a hint of anger. "Yes?" You were quick with your response, trying to get to the bottom of Miguel's attitude as you wiped at his tears. Miguel pouted slightly as he pushed out of your hold, turning away from you as he used the back of his hand to wipe at the rest of his tears. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's up, Miguel." Miguel spun around, looking up at you in irritation, his clawed hands balling into fists at his sides. The average person would cower under his gaze, but you took a step towards him, knowing that the man wouldn't hurt you. At least not in a way you wouldn't enjoy. Miguel took a step back in response, prompting you to grit your teeth in irritation. "Don't play this game, mami." You spoke in a low, almost predatory tone. "You know I love a chase."

A wave of arousal traveled up Miguel's spine, the combination of your threatening words and the fitted black suit adorning your strong physique causing a tingling feeling in his pants. No. Now wasn't the time to get all horny and shit. He was mad at you, and he was staying mad at you. "I shouldn't have to tell you the obvious." "Clearly it's not obvious if I'm sitting here trying to drag it out of you." You snapped back. "You're frustrated, Miguel, I can see it in your face." Your tone was softer now as you gestured to his sharp talons. Miguel cut his eyes shut as he spoke in a harsh tone. "Just leave, y/n, you already brought what I needed. Just go." Miguel flinched when he opened his eyes, his view blocked by your broad chest as you towered over him.

He couldn’t push away in time, enveloped by the warmth of your burly arms as you pressed him flush against you, tucking his head against your neck. “Get. Off.” “Why’re you always so cold?” Miguel could hear that calmness in your voice, but it only seemed to irritate him more. He leaned his head back, though he couldn’t move his body with your limbs wrapped around him. He glared up at you, but you kept a neutral expression, a softness in your eyes. “You’re always cold. Whether it be your hands, your nose, or your ears.” Miguel was confused. The fuck are you talking about? “You’re just too damn warm.” To be fair, he was right. Your body seemed to emit heat like it was the sun itself. Miguel flinched when you leaned down, brushing the tip of your nose against his colder one.

His bottom lip trembled. You took notice, not wasting a second in his moment of distraction as you leaned down, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. Miguel flinched again, a moment of hesitation before he returned it. But he was rough. Much rougher. His tongue immediately slid into your mouth, fangs nipping at your lips as his clawed hands grasped at your blazer, tearing the fabric. Fuck this suit. And fuck whatever event you had to wear it to, further keeping you from him.

You were still so gentle in your kisses, to the point that it pissed him off. Maybe make up sex was necessary, but you were going to be gentle with him in foreplay at least, take your time breaking him down. You pulled away, staring down at him with star-struck eyes before leaning back in, pressing tender kisses along his face. The corners of his mouth, the skin below his eyes, his high cheekbones, before eventually returning to his lips. Miguel's anger seemed to just melt away under your touch, returning your gentleness in the kisses, his way of apologizing for his previous aggressive behavior.

You pulled away again, looking down at his teary eyes. “You gotta tell me what’s up, sweet thing. I’m not trying to act oblivious.” Your voice was a murmur as your hands rubbed circles into his back. “I need you. I’ve needed you for weeks now.” Miguel muttered, a hint of guilt on his face at the sight of your abused lips from his fangs. “Well, you gotta tell me when you do. I’m not with you only for this.” You patted his butt, chuckling at Miguel’s bashful expression. Miguel loved the little romantic gestures that came out of you after becoming exclusive, something he never thought he'd experience since you'd always been so robotic prior to him making a move.

“What do you need tonight, cariño?” Miguel thought for a moment before looking up at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You promised me something that night. I want it.” You were confused for a moment, trying to recall the memory from months back. ‘Can’t wait to fuck that pretty mouth of yours when I’m out of here.’ Oh. “Miguel…” You wanted to be gentle tonight, since you didn’t get much of a chance to with the suddenness of your first time with Miguel. “You promised.” “That technically wasn’t a prom—” “Y/n. I need you. Just give me this one thing and then you can be as gentle as you want.” A moment of silence. “Tap my thigh twice if you want me to stop, yea?”

Miguel's back was pressed flush against the wall as he sat kneeled between your legs, your feet planted next to his thighs as you steadily fucked your cock into his mouth. The room was filled with the muffled gags coming from Miguel's throat as he struggled to fit his lips around your girth, unable to escape your deep thrusts with the back of his head pressed against the wall.

Miguel was such a whiny bitch, thick tears streaming down his cheeks at your pace, barely giving him room to breathe. His clawed hands dug at your thighs, tearing into your dress pants. The pain only added to the experience as you increased your pace, placing your forearm against the wall as you looked down at him. He looked up at you, a pleading look in his teary eyes as fluids leaked down his chin, saliva bubbling around his puffy lips as you slid your cock out of his mouth.

"Open your throat." You growled out before shoving your cock back into the warmth of his mouth. You sunk in even further, the tip of your cock slipping a couple inches down his throat as Miguel's eyes rolled back. He made a muffled noise, sending vibrations up your length as you groaned, your hips jerking forward and sinking even deeper. You held your hips in place for a bit, watching Miguel's eyes get gradually more hazy at the lack of air as his throat constricted around you.

Repeating the motion, you slid your thick cock out a few inches back, watching Miguel inhale desperately through his nose, his abused lips wrapped around you before thrusting your hips forward, burying yourself nearly three quarters of the way. You groaned at the sensation, running a hand through Miguel's hair as he looked up at you in awe. "This what you wanted? Hm?" You said in an undertone, rolling your hips slightly. "Wanted my cock down your throat?" Miguel nodded, or at least he attempted to.

You wiped at his flowing tears, your thumbs brushing against his eyelashes as you cooed to him. "You got me, baby. I told you, I'll give you everything, all of me. You just gotta tell me when you need it." You stroked his hair as you slid your cock out of his mouth, saliva connected between his swollen lips and your leaking cock. Miguel dragged his tongue up the underside of your cock, collecting his saliva and the precum dripping down your length into his mouth before swallowing. "You missed it, mami?" You spoke breathily. "Mhm." Miguel's response was short, wrapping his pretty mouth around the tip of your cock as one of his clawed hands reached up, stroking your shaft.

Your eyes shifted down to his hard cock, straining against the fabric of his suit. How were you so irresponsible? This man had been pining for you for months and when he finally let himself be vulnerable with you, you distanced yourself. Even if it was unintentional, it was unforgivable in your mind and you'd be spending the next few weeks making it up to him. "I'm close, baby." You grunted out, your eyes focused on how Miguel's soft tongue laved over the slit of your cock, his pretty lashes damp with tears from your previous brutality.

Miguel took the hint, sinking his mouth down on you as much as he could. Resting his hands on your thighs, he looked up at you, waiting for you. You reached a hand down, gripping Miguel's brown locks before moving his mouth on your cock. It was mesmerizing just as much as it was filthy. Watching your cock disappear in his mouth, steadily sinking deeper with each thrust as the sounds of Miguel’s muffled gags and choked whimpers bounced off the walls of his office. His mouth slid over every vein, your milky fluid building up around the corners of his reddened lips every time you got to his throat's limit.

“Such a pretty mouth.” You murmured, groaning as you increased your pace, snapping your hips forward to meet the harsh pulling of your hand. Miguel relaxed in your hold, letting your cock sink into his throat with each thrust as he felt you getting closer to your climax. When you did, you held him in place, your cock nestled deep in his warmth as your thick release coated the walls of his throat. You kept yours fingers intertwined behind his neck as he fought to keep his eyes from rolling back, his throat constricting around your length as he attempted to swallow your cum, forcing more out of you. Milking you.

When you finally released your hold, you leaned forward, pressing your forearms to the wall as you breathed heavily. Miguel lapped at your cock, cleaning you off as he looked up at you, adoration in his blown pupils as he tried to steady his breathing.

“You know, I’ve never been to your place.”

When the two of you went back to his apartment, you found his little ‘toy’ while searching for lube in his drawers, forcing him to ashamedly confess to his attempts to edge himself. Miguel was filled with a bit of fear at the wolfish look in your lustful eyes as you practically growled at him. “Show me.” And that’s how Miguel ended up in the exact same humiliating position from the previous, lonelier night, his arm wrapped under the backs of his knees as he kept them pressed to his chest, laid on his back as his other gripped at one of your knees. Tears slid down the sides of Miguel’s face, getting lost in his ruffled hair as three of your thick fingers slid along his sensitive walls. His soft cries filled the room as his greedy hole took your fingers in to the last knuckle.

“I wanna—hic—I want your cock. Please, please, m’ prepped enough.” His cry of your name was choked off by a whimper when he felt your tongue roughly glide up his length, his back arching into the sensation. “You feel this area here?” You curled your finger slightly, pressing against a spot that had Miguel reeling, a shaky moan escaping him at the feeling. “This is that sweet spot you were trying to reach, baby.” You further emphasized it by massaging the pads of your fingers against that beautiful area, causing Miguel’s eyes to roll back as his back arched off the bed, quavering pleas tumbling out of his mouth in his native tongue.

Just when you felt him start to flutter around your fingers, you pulled back, watching his pretty hole clench around nothing as his cock dripped precum onto his abs. Miguel cried out in despair, new tears flowing down his flushed cheeks at the deprivation of his orgasm. A part of you felt guilty for making him cry so hard, but that was quickly brushed aside as you watched a drip of lube leak from his pretty hole. God, you couldn’t wait to bury yourself in that.

You pulled your cock out of your dress pants again, already hard as you stroked it. You were taunting him, Miguel could tell, kneeled in front of him, still in your full suit minus your tattered blazer, lost somewhere on the floor of his bedroom as you stroked yourself. “Please.” Miguel whimpered softly, his eyes trained on your moving hand. You looked so fucking good, having rolled your sleeves up a while back, exposing your thick forearms and the muscle that traveled well up the covered section of your arms.

You removed your hand from your cock, moving back in. Just when Miguel thought you were ready to fuck him, his hopes were quickly extinguished when you pressed the tip of his little toy to his hole. “I want you to show me exactly what you did last night.” You said in a low tone as Miguel looked up at you with his teary eyes, nodding at your command. His hand moved from your knee to the base of the toy, slowly sliding it inside his fluttering hole. You weren’t worried about him cumming from it, confident that it couldn’t compare to the sensations your own girth gave him. You returned to stroking your cock as you watched him pump the toy into himself, your other hand rubbing circles into his hip.

“Look so pretty like this, doll.” You murmured, the tip of your cock dangerously close to his moving hand. Miguel flushed in response, biting his lower lip as his eyes focused on your weeping manhood. His hips were propped up on a pillow, giving you a delicious view, his ass being presented to you on a silver platter. Miguel wiggled his hips around a bit, trying to lure you to just bury that mouthwatering cock inside him. You gave in. Or at least he thought you did. “Take it out.” You growled out in frustration. Miguel quickly slid the toy out, a giddy smile spreading across his face that was quickly cracked by a broken moan spilling past his lips at the feeling of you laving your wet tongue over his hole, feeling it twitch at the rough texture.

“I—mmmngh—y/n—wait, please—” Miguel couldn’t even get a full sentence out as his head fell back against the sheets, both of his arms wrapped under his knees and pressed to his shoulders, giving you full access. You gripped his hips tightly, yanking them higher and giving you a better angle. Miguel let out a squeak when your tongue slid into his hole, your lips pressed against his skin as you fucked your tongue in and out of him. Miguel was hypnotized by your actions, his eyes clouded with lust as soft whimpers spilled past his drooling mouth.

Miguel was on the verge of cumming by the time you slipped your tongue back out and the sight of you sliding your pants midway down your hefty thighs as you knelt between his legs wasn’t helping. Your thighs were fucking beautiful, solid muscles carved into thick flesh that was further accentuated by your prominent v-line. God, could he convince you to ride him one day? Get the blessing of watching those powerful thighs flex and contract as you moved in his lap? Had you ever even bottomed before? If there’s someone out there who got to experience such a luxury, he’d find them and kill them himself.

The horny idiot was on the verge of blurting these questions out, but was quickly distracted by the feeling of your heavy cock pressing against his puffy hole. “Tell Lyla to clear your schedule for tomorrow.”

Fuck, maybe those thoughts could wait another day.

heyyy 😀 it’s been like two weeks since I posted heehee 😁 so sorry, I was busy with work and other personal events. Forgive me 🙏

Feel free to let me know about any typos, this was all done on my phone

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x male reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #astv miguel #x male reader #dom male reader #sub miguel o'hara #sub!miguel o’hara

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sunnynwanda · 5 months

Text

Under the influence: Part 2

Part 1

As per popular demand, couldn't leave this one without a part 2 :) I hope you'll like it!

Warnings: suggestive? perhaps, enemies with benefits, jealousy.

Villain was never the smothering type. They weren't needy, clingy or possessive. They never got attached and certainly were not one to get jealous. They would be pegged as indifferent and detached, if anything. They hated feeling suffocated by unwanted attention and trapped in endless power plays, so they distanced themself enough to make their stance clear. In other words, Villain didn't do relationships.

But this time was different. Their night with Hero evolved into something they were not anticipating. At first, the whole enemies-with-benefits situation seemed like a good idea. Both of them needed an outlet from their daily lives and struggles - and what better way to do that than fucking out the built-up tension? And it worked well. Too well, if they dare say.

Hero's birthday was three months ago, though it felt much longer than that. Their days went by in a grey haze while the nights blurred into something akin to a nightmare. They met up once or twice a week. Those were the only days that Villain remembered clearly. It felt like they were constantly drunk, only sobering up for the few hours that they spent in Hero's bed. Always in secret, of course. Hero had a reputation to uphold - being seen so much as talking with Villain would be a disaster. Publicity mattered more.

Which was the exact reason for Hero's official date today. And no, Villain did not give a damn about the arm candy that hung onto Hero like their life depended on it. If their sweet smiles and exaggerated giggles made Villain sick in the stomach, it had nothing to do with Hero. Villain despised public displays like that, simple as that. They knew the annual reception was coming up - and Hero needed someone to take. Again, for publicity. The few dates they had sparked discussions, which was what their PR team was building drama for - a red-carpet moment.

Villain huffs, annoyed that Hero cancelled on them for the ditz they were fake dating. Yes, they had every right to date whoever they liked. It's not like Villain had any claim over them or anything. But it still stung. They tried to convince themselves that it was their pride, but the dull ache of their chest spoke otherwise. They slammed a hand over their heart, willing it to shut up.

"I thought you had plans," Hero's voice interrupts their inner monologue rather harshly.

Villain whips around, eyebrows rising. "What are you doing here?" Hero shrugs, sitting down on the cold concrete of the roof Villain was occupying. "Though you had a date?"

Hero nods, mind absent as they trail their eyes over Villain's forced smile and strained jaw. "I did. It ended."

"That soon?" Villain cringes when the question comes out, flooding their throat with rising bile. They intended it to sound sarcastic. It's pathetic how badly they fail to control their emotions.

Hero chuckles, oblivious to the tribulations of their archnemesis. "Took some pics at the bar and walked them to their door."

They don't understand why Villain even wants to talk about something this insignificant. They'd prefer to be kissing them by now, like they always do on this roof.

"That's barely even a date," Villain comments, their voice bitter with something they've not deciphered yet. It's neither jealousy nor anger, the taste more reminiscent of... disappointment? They don't know.

"As long as it counts with the press. Wouldn't wanna waste my whole evening," Hero replies, eyes trained on the city lights. After a moment of silence, they turn to face Villain. "Do you have time? I know I cancelled, but I'm here now."

"What, your contract doesn't cover sex?" Yeah, definitely disappointment. They pray Hero won't question it. "I don't have time, though. I've got places to be and people to rob."

"Hey, are you mad at me?" Hero finally seems to be using their brain, but Villain is nowhere near being happy about it.

They curse under their breath and attempt to salvage the situation by acting dumb. "Why would I?"

"I- you seem off and..." They stop mid-sentence, stepping back into the shadows to avoid being seen when they see a reporter crossing the street.

'Course, publicity over everything," Villain bites their tongue a little too late. They shouldn't have said that. They have no right or reason to feel hurt. And yet they do.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hero steps towards them, about to get hold of their hand, but Villain withdraws it.

"Nothing," with that, they leave, deserting Hero on the cold roof.

Hero is left lost in thought. They keep replaying the conversation to try and make sense of what happened but fail to see the pattern of their behaviour, albeit unwilling, that caused the change in their dynamic with Villain. They are exhausted from the constant role they are forced to play, and Villain is the only escape they have - or, had, as it seems they will now be deprived of it, too.

Hero was in despair. Between patrolling the streets, constant nagging for interviews, fake dating and not seeing Villain other than for battle for two whole weeks, they felt overwhelmed and utterly helpless. It was too much - everything happening at once, urgent demands after pressing requirements after persistent responsibilities. They felt like a caged animal and had no one to blame - all of it was their fault. Thus, Hero was losing their sanity, and the one person that had the ability to ground them wanted nothing to do with them anymore. Another thing that was entirely their fault.

And if all of that was not enough, they had to attend the stupid reception that the mayor was hosting.

"Just my luck," they mumble, struggling with their hair, as their fingers tremble with unreasonable irritation.

They know it's not a big deal, they've been through the same kind of event a dozen times before. Today wasn't gonna be any different. They'll have a glass of ridiculously expensive champagne, force a smile here and there, nod and look invested when someone talks, take pictures for the press and leave as soon as they can. Even if their mind races back and forth, not allowing for a moment of quiet.

Needless to say, by the time their car stops in front of the city hall, Hero is on edge. They are attacked by flashing cameras and a billion questions fired at them as they walk through the doors, ignoring everyone. A glass is pressed into their hand as they enter, the mayor appearing by their side in a matter of seconds. The evening proceeds as predicted until a painfully familiar voice invades their wandering mind.

"Where's your date?" Hero attempts to turn but a firm hand prevents them from moving.

"Villain." The sigh of relief that escapes Hero is audible even over the music. The can't help the smile that tugs at the corners of their lips. God, they missed that voice. "I came alone."

"Hm?" Villain quirks an eyebrow, rounding them to stand face to face to their beautiful yet miserable archnemesis. "How come?"

"You're talking to me now?" Hero looks at them with barely contained contempt. They want to yell at Villain for ignoring - better yet, abandoning them. But that would imply admitting they were in pain.

"Excuse me? I've talked to you plenty." Villain tilts their head, lying through their teeth, but Hero sees right through them.

"No, you have not," their voice is scornful, eyes fixed on their fingers gripping the glass until their knuckles turn white.

"What, did you miss me?" Villain knows it's a poor attempt at mockery when their heart is leaping up their throat.

"I did," Hero admits, as if it's perfectly ordinary for them to say. In their mind, it is. "Why do you look surprised?"

Villain shakes their head, flabbergasted at the path their conversation has taken. The music grows louder as people start flooding the dance floor. "Why would I?"

"Don't give me that bullshit again," Hero pleads, their gaze searches Villain's face for answers but upon not finding anything, they stretch their hand towards them, opting for a different route. "Dance with me?"

"What?" Villain meets their eyes, their expression incredulous. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Perhaps I am," Hero leads them to the center of the room, ignoring the immediate stares and whispers. They are done with hiding. "I've missed talking to you," they murmur into Villains ear as they draw them closer by the waist, "and holding you."

Villain can't breathe, their lungs contracting in their chest at the feeling of Hero's palm against their back. "Did someone spike your drink again?"

Hero shakes their head no, prompting Villain to focus on them. They notice everyone's attention and their manager freaking out in the corner.

"Hero, people are watching." Villain can't tell if Hero is sound of mind at this point, but they still try to reason with them.

"So?" Hero winks before dipping them back. It's an act of rebellion, Villain assumes, barely suppressing their smirk. Fucking finally.

"There are reporters," they point half-heartedly, amusement creeping into their voice.

Hero lets out an exasperated huff but when they speak, their tone is firm and determined. "I don't give a damn about reporters. I need you."

"But what about..?" Villain's question is cut short by Hero's lips pressed against theirs. Their lips part at the suddenness of it, and Hero uses the opportunity to slide their tongue into their mouth. A few gasps and a shriek of horror escape the guests but Hero couldn't care less.

When they pull away, Villain's eyes remain closed to keep all of the spectators out of their mind. "Your public image is in shambles now."

Hero shrugs, an ecstatic grin stretches their lips when Villain meets their gaze. They recognise the familiar dangerous sparkle before Villain can utter the words. "Kiss me again?"

"Right here?" They question, stunned by the request because it was Villain - the same Villain that was disgusted by public sentiments. Villain's eyes go blank again, just like they did in Hero's kitchen when they assumed their advances were unwanted. Hero shakes their head frantically to stop their assumptions from forming. "Yes. God, yes."

Hero barely manages to get the words out before capturing Villain's mouth with theirs in a starved kiss. They feel famished, ravenous as they swallow Villain's every gasp. Suddenly Villain doesn't hate PDA anymore. They allow their arms to snake around Hero's waist, holding them close as they resume swaying to their own rhythm. Hero cups Villain's face and drags their lips over their jaw, before leaving a soft kiss under their ear. "Let's get out of here."

Part 1

Masterlist

Taglist: @marvellousdaisy @alltimelowing @lateuplight @surplus-of-sarcasm @betwist @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon @burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney @thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @yes-i-am-a-percyjackson-nerd

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heliads · 4 months

Note

Hey! I gotta request something for our girl Clove. So could you do a Clove Kentwell x district 2 reader where they have been close friends since they were young and shared feelings for eachother but were scared to mess it but one day for some reason (ex: family invites them back or smth) has to move back to the capitol. The 2 lose contact and years later meet again in the lobby of the tribute building at night finally catching up on what has happened in their life. Perhaps also finally confessing to each other! I hope I've sent this in in time! Take your time!

'it's been a while ' - clove kentwell

masterlist

After years of living there, the Capitol is just as gaudy and useless as ever. The sheer quantity of ostentatiousness increases exponentially with the annual arrival of the Hunter Games, to the point where it’s damn near unlivable. Then again, when has it ever been somewhere you’d want to stay?

If you had it your way, you would have stayed in District Two forever. If you had it your way, you never would have come to the Capitol at all, not even as a tribute to become its latest Victor. District Two takes great pride in training its children to become winners in the Hunger Games, but you never fell for the whole spectacle. The only thing you had ever wanted was simply to be home, and then that was taken from you.

All your life, you were District. Your parents had ties to the Capitol, you knew that, but they had direct orders from President Snow that they were to maintain the strength of the district government by remaining there. You had assumed that you would go your whole life without ever leaving Two, and then their orders changed all of a sudden and you were gone. Back to the Capitol, although you had never been there as long as you were alive. Away from home.

That was a couple of years ago. It is expected that one would still nurse faint pangs for home, but over the months, everyone seems to assume that your passions would transfer over to such a remarkable place to spend your days. The Capitol is rich in many things, to be sure. The food is sublime, the houses are magnificent, the dresses sparkle.

Still, what it gains in material wealth, it lacks in substance and in soul. What you see as you look around you every day is a garish facade. Everyone here is dripping with wealth, but the only thing they cannot buy is true spirit. If anyone had a heart in the Capitol, they’ve long since sold it off to buy more gems and shoes. Nothing here is worth living for.

And, with the Hunger Games drawing ever near again, you’re painfully reminded of the emptiness of your current life once again. It is pure privilege that you could live here, secure in the knowledge that you’ll have enough food and clothes and shelter to keep you more than comfortable, yet you’d throw it all away if you could just be back in the one place where you actually felt alive.

You walk listlessly in the back corners of someone else’s mansion. Your family has been invited to an opening gala celebrating the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games. You’re decked out in the latest fashions, although your clothes are noticeably subdued compared to everyone else. Although it might bother your parents to no end, you can’t convince yourself to adopt the endless frivolity of the other Capitol residents. Not when you would be sickened whenever you looked at yourself in the mirror.

Apparently all sorts of important people to the Hunger Games are here tonight, Gamemakers and past Victors alike. It seems as if half the Capitol has been brought to this particular event, whether by their choice or otherwise. The main parties are happening a few floors up, with plenty of screens displaying the opening interviews of the latest round of tributes, but you just can’t force yourself to watch. Why get wrapped up in the stories of twenty-four new children when all but one are about to die?

Instead, you slink around below, where the lights are dim and you don’t have to worry about being seen. Your parents will be busy upstairs, where they’ll be too lost in the bubbling crowds to find you. Tomorrow, if they question you about where you were, you can lie and say you were up there with the rest. With these crushing throngs of partygoers, they would have absolutely no idea if you were telling the truth or not.

You’re not the only one down here, either. Although the significant majority of the Capitol is very interested in the results of the Games, there are a couple of people here and there who cannot stand the idea. Haymitch Abernathy, the District Twelve mentor, will spend most of his time upstairs wining and dining potential sponsors, but on occasion he cannot stomach the eager discussion of his own district’s children as lambs to a slaughter and he hides down here to catch his breath and sneak a sharp mouthful or five from a flask at his hip.

Other Victors occasionally dip down the stairs when they’re sure they will not be found. They all have the same look in their eyes, and respond with the same flinching terror when they hear a loud bang like the cannons that announce dead tributes in the Games. This whole thing is a horrific show, and you can’t bear it any more than the others. Although you may be a Capitol citizen now, in your heart you will always be District. Your oldest friends were the ones sent in to die.

In fact, last year someone closer than a friend entered into the Games. Sometimes, as a child, you’re fortunate enough to have a best friend, someone who means the world to you because you mean the world to them. You’re past friendship bracelets and always remembering each other’s birthdays. This person is everything to you. The idea of forgetting them is impossible. Whoever you are, there will always be some part of you made up of them, all the insignificant habits and odd pronunciations you picked up from them.

This person is your world, and then you leave them for the Capitol. The day you had to tell Clove Kentwell that you were leaving District Two might have been the worst of your life, except for the day you left the district behind entirely. Although you had limited notice of when you were leaving, you still dreaded the hour in which you would have to inform your best friend that the most inseparable pair in all of Panem was about to be split up for good.

It is hard telling your best friend that you’re never going to see her again. It is harder still when she’s stopped being just a friend in your mind. Your feelings for Clove have changed over time, shifting from emotion to emotion without your approval, but in the end, you know for certain that you love her. You’re also fairly certain that Clove loves you back, but neither of you ever said a word about it to each other.

After all, how could you? The chances that either of you would be reaped for the Hunger Games were quite high, as was the expectation that you would volunteer. And even if you weren’t sent into the Games, the risk of confessing when the other didn’t feel the same way was catastrophic. You could destroy the friendship forever, and worse, still have to live so close together. The remnants of the glorious thing you once had would hang about you forever, choking you out whenever you dared to think about it. All of your days would be spent grieving Clove even while she still walked your streets and passed by your house, and then you would grow up and apart and the whole thing would be lost forever.

It was too terrible a fate to bear for both of you, and so you never said a word about it. You regret that sometimes, especially after you moved, but there’s nothing more to be done about it now. You are here, Clove is there, and never shall the two paths cross again.

That’s what you had thought, at least, and then last year you had been at a party celebrating the beginning of the seventy-third annual Hunger Games, and Caesar Flickerman had announced the two tributes from District Two, and one of them was Clove. You remember that night perfectly, how you spent the entirety of that evening frozen in place, unable to move a muscle while the rest of the party around you danced and cheered and placed bets. Your best friend was going into the Arena, and there was nothing you could do to save her.

You never saw Clove while she was in the Games, for better or for worse. Random strangers weren’t allowed to see the tributes, and since you live in the Capitol and Clove is from Two, that’s what you would always be: strangers. Even though you knew everything about her, from the way she laughed to the exact balance of the syllables of your name in her mouth. Strangers, that’s what you were. Forever separate, never to meet again.

The course of the Hunger Games was immensely difficult. Each day you spent obsessing over the footage, trying to make out if she was injured or hungry or dead. Each night, you had to be all but dragged away from the monitors, so addicted were you to watching your girl. Even after they took you away, you could hardly sleep a wink. In the mornings, you rose early and ran to the live recordings of the Games, torn to pieces by the thought that she might have died while you were away.

In the end, though, Clove was victorious, and you watched from afar as she was paraded around and all but worshiped by the adoring Capitol and District Two. No amount of words can adequately describe the relief you felt when you knew that Clove would survive, although it was shadowed by the knowledge that even as Victor– especially as Victor– Clove would never be able to escape the hold of the Capitol.

You’ve seen many Victors come and go. They’re paraded to and from the Capitol whenever the Hunger Games are so much as mentioned, brought up every time so they can give their takes on the latest round of tributes or the design of the Arena or merely an update on what they’ve been doing since their latest publicized appearance. Once the Capitol tires of them, they’ll be allowed to return to their Districts for a couple of months before the TV cameras are sent out again to catch a glimpse of a Victor in its natural habitat.

She’s here now, probably, with some of the other Mentors or forced to mingle at any of the dozens of events happening across the Capitol. The thought turns your stomach. The on camera bits had been Clove’s least favorite part of being a Career, you’ve known that since you were a child. Clove dreamed of volunteering for the Hunger Games just like any other good District Two girl, but she’d told you fervently that she despised the interviews and all the acting fluff.

You’d been able to see that for yourself, too, while Clove was involved in the seventy-third Games. Although it may not have been apparent to any other onlooker, the advantage of the years you’ve spent by her side is that you know exactly when Clove is uncomfortable or unhappy, and she was just that while being grilled by Caesar Flickerman. Her mentor had trained her properly, and her impeccable demeanor never shifted, but you could see the tightness in her hands, the strain in her eyes. Clove didn’t want to be there any more than you wanted to be watching her.

A champagne bottle pops somewhere upstairs, causing the ceiling to rattle with a chorus of shouts. You’ll probably have to go up there sooner rather than later, or you really will be in trouble for skipping. To clear your head, you push open the doors to the house, letting the cool air wash over you. Just one lap around the mansion, then you’ll entertain the rest. You just need this one last moment of peace if you have any hope of survival.

You’re not expecting to see anyone else out here, but halfway through your circuit, a shadow crosses your path. You move out of the way automatically, not wanting to bother or be noticed by anyone from the Capitol, but you’ve hardly started moving again when a soft, careful voice says,

“Y/N?”

Instantly, you freeze in place. It’s been a long time since you last saw Clove Kentwell in person, but you’d know her voice anywhere, that precise cadence of syllables, each and every inflection like a feather-light touch upon her words.

You turn around slowly, and there she is, taller than you remember but no less stunning. Her eyes are more guarded than they used to be, but maybe that’s what you deserve for going away for so long and leaving her with a gaping hole in her armor.

“Clove?” You ask in return.

Hesitantly, you drift closer. You’re waiting for her to step back or leave, maybe, anything befitting someone you no longer quite now, but she doesn’t go. She doesn’t get closer, either, no delighted embraces for a long-absent best friend, but Clove’s never quite been that type anyway.

“It’s been a long time,” you say, when it becomes apparent that she’s waiting for you to do something.

Her brow twists. “Hasn’t it?”

The question is daring. After all, it is your fault that so much time has passed since the two of you crossed paths. You were the one who left, she was the one who stayed. It is perfectly reasonable for Clove to have nursed a grudge all this time.

“I didn’t want to go,” you remind her. “Trust me. I begged my family to let me stay, but they wouldn’t hear a word of it.”

“I do trust you,” Clove says softly. “I always have.”

The words twist in your heart like a knife. You’re not sure what to say to that, not sure even that you can say anything to it, not without losing yourself, so you briskly change the subject. “I saw you in the Games. You did well.”

Clove scoffs. “There were a couple of sloppy kills. I could have done better.”

This makes you laugh. It’s just like Clove to have won the Hunger Games and still have pointers for herself on what she could have done better. “You had an excellent showing, Clove, and you know that.”

Clove arches a brow. “You saw my Games?”

“Every minute,” you admit. “I couldn’t look away. I was scared that if I did, you’d die. I’ve lost a lot of you, Clove Kentwell. I didn’t want to lose your last moments, too.”

She’s quiet for a while, and it occurs to you that you might have overstepped. Ducking your head, you mumble something about heading back inside, and move to brush past her. Clove catches at your arm before you can go. Her grip is as steady as always, radiating quiet strength without having to hurt you. She’s never hurt you. Not in all those years of training and playing around has she harmed so much as a hair on your head.

“Wait,” she says suddenly. “Don’t go yet. You– you haven’t told me what happened to you yet.”

You frown. “What?”

Clove shakes her head slightly, her dark curls catching in the moonlight. “You saw how I’ve been in the Games last year, but I don’t know what you’ve been doing. It’s been years. Don’t you know how many times I’ve thought about you? Wondered what you were doing? If you were making friends you liked more than me?”

“Never,” you pledge immediately. “I’ve talked to people here, but none of them could come close to you. They don’t get me, not like you do. Everyone here is cold and insincere. Sure, they’ll pretend to tolerate me so they can get to my family’s money, but they don’t actually like me. Not like you did.”

Clove’s voice comes quietly in the dark. “No one could like you like I did.”

Your eyes dart up to her. “Clove–”

“No,” she says firmly. “I’ve done enough running. I wanted to tell you when I knew you were moving, but you were gone too fast. I don’t know if I’m going to get another chance so I have to take this one while I have it. I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you for years.”

A firework goes off overhead, the remnants of someone else’s late night party. It feels as if the red matter between your ribs has been tossed up there in the sky, made glittery and meteoric so everyone can see and delight in the cascade of bright emotions rippling through your heart. It is one thing to imagine that Clove might have feelings for you, to assume that you enough of her mind to decide what she thought of you, but it is an entirely different matter to hear her confirm it after all this time.

“I love you too,” you say in a sudden rush.

The corner of Clove’s mouth pulls up into a victorious smirk, so familiar an expression that you can remember a hundred other times you’ve seen this exact impression, heard her voice tinged by triumph in this same way. “I knew that, obviously. I just wanted to make sure you know I loved you first, that’s all.”

You laugh. It’s a giddy sound. You don’t think you’ve laughed for real since you arrived at the Capitol, and your voice is a little hoarse from disuse, but it gets easier in moments. Everything is easier around Clove, it always has been. “You loved me first? I didn’t realize it was a contest.”

She snorts. “Everything is a contest, Y/N. We’re Careers.”

Your delighted mood slips away from you once you remember where you are, what you’ve become since you saw her last. “Am I? I’m not in Two anymore.”

Clove’s dark brows narrow. “Of course you are. You grew up with me, you think I don’t know who you are? You’re one of us, Y/N. You’re part of me, and you always will be.”

A soft, tentative smile starts to slip back onto your face. “Always, huh?”

It’s dark, hard to see Clove’s expression, but you swear you can still sense the heated flush as it creeps onto her cheeks. “Always.”

The voices from inside the house are starting to grow more insistent. “We should probably go back inside,” you say reluctantly.

In a perfect world, you would stay outside forever, talking happily with Clove while the fireworks flared overhead. Then again, in a perfect world, you never would have left District Two at all. However, when Clove takes your hand, and you walk side by side back into the house, you start to think that maybe you’ll have some semblance of your perfect world after all, one in which even the distance can’t stop you and Clove from being together. Victors are always in the Capitol, after all. Your paths will cross again, and this time, you will have nothing to fear. Not even separation.

hunger games tag list: @w1shes43, @ilovexavierthrope

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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serendertothesquad · 5 days

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Seren's Studies: The Odd Squad UK Gadget-Making Competition Video

I was originally going to make this into a longer post where I discuss Odd Squad UK more in-depth, but to keep things simple (and to avoid frying my brain), I'm going to keep this and another post separated. They will be linked, though, so keep an eye out for an edit and a reblog in the coming months.

We got a first taste of OSUK a little over a week ago, and with it came quite a few things to dissect. Because Season 2 can't be the only season that gets something UK-exclusive that never made its way to the States and never will. Curl up, try to cry, cry anyway.

Join me below the break as I make a Thanksgiving feast out of mere crumbs. Or try to, anyway.

Those of you who have been in the loop might have seen the BTS photos of the UK Headquarters on Instagram. This is what I can safely assume is the bullpen, going by the seal, the desk on the right with some kind of a green form, and...well I mean fuckin' look at it.

As you can see, it's an incredibly stark difference from the Headquarters seen in the past three seasons, though this one looks similar to S1 and S2's, for, y'know, obvious reasons. It actually looks more like something you'd see in some kind of a government building, like your local city hall or the DMV, than anything else.

There's not even any sliding doors either! Which is...well, I mean I watched Season 3, this surprises me next to none.

Take it all in...take it in...

...You took it in? Goood, goooooood. Moving on.

"NOT SO ANDROGYNOUS NOW IS SHE. HAPPY PRIDE MONTH, BITCHES."

-- The CBBC, probably, maybe

Anyway, this is our first look at a living, moving, breathing Captain Oooooooooooooh whoa what the FUCK is at the end of her ropes? Are...are those knitting needles? Stabby-stabs?

I'm...what even are those?

Okay, okay, someone else can answer that. I'm moreso interested in the smartwatch she's wearing, because Oprah and other Directors in the past haven't worn smartwatches. That, combined with how nautical she looks, donning upper clothing usually reserved for male Directors, and having a unique title, makes her have a rather unique appearance.

"Orwell, I am giving a speech. What do you want."

"Someone stole your copy of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban."

"Damn it!"

Jokes aside, we now get to the second newly-debuted living breathing moving character of this very short video: Orwell, a Security agent who's about as cheerful as someone whose entire family got run over by Cybertrucks. I don't know if I ever made this joke in any public form before, but in promotional images, he reminds me of Fin Tutuola and...well, with this video, the comparison just launched itself outta my head. Just a lil'. Not a whole lot. Only a lil'.

Yeeeeeah...I'm starting to see how this is poorly edited. Captain O's and Orwell's voices coming through two different audio channels instead of the same one, no BGM in the beginning...this weird-ass cut to Ozzie...I mean I don't expect high quality, but come now. For one of the first promotional things for Odd Squad UK, you'd think they'd do better.

...

This is just a regular-ass home, isn't it. Lookit that Backrooms-esque kitchen there. Lookit the hypnosis wheel ta- no seriously, whose home is this, and if it's Ozzie's, why? And if it's Headquarters...again, why?

I do appreciate the tea set, though. The tea set is to the UK what sharing actors is to Canada. Don't do it, don't get tax credits.

"The Mondays? In my Christian Headquarters?! Inconceivable! Blasphemous!"

No but seriously, this is the most unserious shit I have ever seen from Odd Squad as a franchise, and that is genuinely saying something. The Mondays isn't an odd disease. It's not an odd illness that will grant you extra limbs or make your blood turn blue. It's what everybody who has ever worked a paid job a single day in their life goes through.

*takes off the glasses* You're not boostin' my confidence, BBC.

"It doesn't matter what we seem to do. We can't put a smile on his face."

I'M AN ADUUUUUUUUULT!!!

WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD, JACKASS!!

(...Who the hell said McDonald's?)

*slaps on helmet*

Mmmmmmmmmhm. Strap in, human beings. This is where the real shit gets even realer.

So as you can see, Ozzie isn't in his Investigation agent suit here. Promotional material has shown that he's in that suit pretty much all the time, and given how Orli doesn't appear in this video, it's safe to say that we can plop it into the pre-series era.

This specific department had people in the fandom theorizing for the longest time about what it was. Was it a new look for the Creature department? An updated piece of clothing from the Mobile Unit department? A new department enti- oh shit, wait, that's actually it, isn't it.

Yeah, so if you look at the wings on the hexagon symbol there, it's clear to see that this is some kind of a flight department. I'm just going to quote part of the official show synopsis here, so you folks can get a view of what I'm trying to get at:

Not to worry, brand-new agents Orli and Ozzie are on the case. Their job is to solve the toughest and oddest cases now wreaking havoc across the land, sea, and sky (and even that hard-to-reach area behind the couch cushions).

I might as well spit out a theory (one of few, believe you me) that have been spinning in my mind like a nuked rotisserie chicken clinging to life ever since Odd Squad UK was officially announced as a project.

*deep breath*

Okay. So. You guys know Captain O. Loves nautical things. Looks the part. Has assistants who look like sailors.

What if -- and hear me out for a moment -- what if she has a boat? One that can travel across the sea and across the sky?

For land, that's what the tubes are for. That's a nonissue. But for missions that involve going out onto open water or going high into the sky...that's what the boat is for. And if you have a boat that goes up into the sky, you're gonna need some agents who deal in flight matters.

Headcanon accepted. If you hear screaming at any point this fall, assume it's me.

*long exhale*

See, with Odd Squad, child actors can be hit-or-miss. Some, like Dalila Bela and Millie Davis, knock their roles right outta the park, sometimes even going beyond their abilities and really getting into character (for those two specifically, Olive and Oprah are relatable to their personalities as actors, so it makes things easier). Some are okay -- they're neither good nor bad. And some just don't have the range.

The kid playing Orwell here...is on the latter end.

I get it. It's a video out of a twelve "testing the waters for another season or series" episodes of a UK-based spinoff series in a franchise that keeps going nose-down. I shouldn't go in expecting top-notch quality. I'm setting the bar low, as are a host of other people. And I have absolutely no disrespect against the kid who plays Orwell, because for God sakes, I have standards. But twelve episodes of stiff, the-script-might-as-well-be-in-the-damn-hands-when-filming acting like this is gonna be really hard to stomach, especially since Orwell is a main character.

Getting back to gooder things: this "yeeeeeeah, obviously" bit made me laugh harder than it should've. There is no customer service persona for Orwell here. Concept is foreign to him.

Onom is, unfortunately, not in this episode. However, I do appreciate that the Lab is just as eccentric as he is. Not even Precinct 13579's Lab was this crazy!

(And if you're wondering who Onom is: he's the brother of the Pokemon Snom.)

(...No, I'm kidding. He's our Science man for this series. The gods are returning to their roots.)

this video is about viewers making a gadget

orwell grabs a gadget for absolutely no reason other than by proxy

If this is giving a hint to contest entrants, they sure are being vague as hell about it.

If this is not giving a hint to contest entrants, Orwell's taking the gadget like it's the thing that made Onom go vamoosh in the first place.

...

Hold up-

Wake up? Drank.

Feel sad? Drank.

Go to work? Drank.

Get paid jack shit? Drank.

Take a shower? Drank (with the tea bag you showered yourself with).

Last season, they didn't commit enough to a whole entire newspaper page and had to use Lorem ipsum text.

This series, they have someone write words on a paper that are actually read.

I don't know, guys, that says a hell of a lot of things quality-wise.

I see Onom's leaning real damn hard into the Oona archetype, because you can bet your damn asses she would pull this shit on Olympia, Otis, and Oprah with absolutely no remorse.

...No, let me correct myself: she has pulled this shit on them with absolutely no remorse. And fuck it, she'll do it again.

They were probably expecting people to react like Captain O here.

In reality, my body folded in on itself so hard the local urgent care place became a 24/7 business.

...I'm starting to realize what that one person said about OSUK making references to past seasons/series now. I laughed it off. I said "in 12 episodes, that'll never happen."

But it did.

And it will haunt me so.

The Emergency Un-Monday Protocol is the Odd Squad version of workplaces telling you "we're like a family".

It's an unneeded red flag that fucks people over royally.

0/10, sweet summer child didn't even try.

Let's be honest here: if Ozzie encapsulates the reaction you should have when listening to this left-audio-channel-only, bobbin-n-weavin', lip-syncing-does-not-exist bit, then that's...not really a good sign.

Oooohoho no. I'm not the gal to turn to, kiddos. Not when I get the Mondays every goddamn day of the week.

...You're pointing at a person who feels crushing depression every time she walks into a Target, what are you doing-

...God damn it, this eyebrow-raising makes me cackle. It's so unexpected.

Honestly, I might be asking too much of a series that has the episode span of 70% of anime, but I want more fourth-wall-breaking moments like this. Keep the meta alive!

"But please, no Slime-inators. I just washed my hair."

Ozzie's been to one too many Nickelodeon Kids' Choice Awards for his liking.

That, or he's taking after Otis and his "regular hair".

AH!! AAAAAAAAAHH!! YOU CAN SEE ALEXANDER CRACK A SMILE THERE!! I SAW IT!! I GOT MY GLASSES ON SUCKERS, I CAN SEE THAT SHIT.

Terrible audio balancing aside...and the terrible timing of the logo bouncing...

...Oh wow, that's the other logo. The secondary one. Kinda cool!

----------------------------------------

So overall, this was...a rather disappointing first taste. Whether this sets the standard for the series remains to be seen, but I'm not all too hopeful. Maybe the September results video will see things improve.

That being said, the characters are at least pretty engaging thus far. I'll need to see them in action a little more to make any final decisions, though.

Like I said in the beginning, I'll be putting out a Seren's Study about OSUK when we get more info on it. I'm aiming for August, but it might come out in September when the results video does. We'll see.

For now, thanks for reading. If you want to see the video for yourself, it's here:

youtube

#seren's studies #odd squad #odd squad pbs kids #odd squad uk

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metalheadcowboy · 9 months

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Turning a Harringrove Cowboy/Farm AU I wrote A LONGGGG time ago into an actual multi part/chapter fic, so here's the first part, enjoy!

-----------------------

It was the spring of '84 when Steve Harrington first decided he hated Billy Hargrove with every damn bone in his body.

The beginning of that spring had been particularly rough in many ways.

Steve's second senior year of high school was going quite a ways away from great, it seemed like no matter what his old man was pissed off about something or another, the calving season had only just started and it was going straight to shit. Oh, and on top of that, it was hotter than a witches tit outside, a record high in southern Indiana that year, great.

"Gah lee," Steve huffed as he fell flat on his rear, wiping the sweat off his forehead, with the part of his arm that wasn't covered in cow crap and god knows what, "That 'as one big son 've a bitch." The force of his collapse knocked his Stetson hat clean off, but he was quick to recover the rather expensive item he’d received for Christmas not too long ago.

He slowly collected himself, pushing the medium tan leather down upon his dark, messy waves. He couldn’t help but blink his eyes a few times as he practically panted like a dog to will any form of cold into his body, "Yeah, 'll least this one's livin'," his dad remarked, and he couldn't disagree with that. Seemed like they'd had more still born calves than live ones this season.

" 'Ts only March, we've got a few months," The teen reminded, manifesting at least a shred of hope for the coming weeks. It wasn't that they didn't have calves other times of the year, they were just few and far between. Now was the time when they started raising a good sized herd to sell of at the beginning of next spring to support them most of the year round, besides the practical penny change they made selling their cows milk local, "Good job, mama," he praised the brown and white blotched animal next to him, already akin to new motherhood, licking her almost identical oversized calf like she knew nothing else.

Steve willed himself up off the ground onto shaky knees, this day had been one of his longest in a while. School on top of all the heifers seeming to want to calf at the exact same time. But as he looked past their property line, out into the marvelous bubblegum pink and creamsicle sunset, he found some sliver of peace.

Only the voice of his father snapped him out of his blissful moment of zoning out, seemed like he was doing a lot more of that lately "You best go wash up 'fer dinner, you know your ma ain't gon' have you at the table lookin' that way." He was right and Steve knew it, but he couldn't lie, a hot shower did sound pleasant on his aching joints.

He gave a quick "Yes sir," ending what was probably the tamest conversation they'd had in weeks, before making the short, yet long trek back to their homestead. He could see the lights on in the kitchen and living room, and as he got closer he came upon the silhouette of his mother washing her hands in the kitchen sink in the small window next to their side door.

He trotted up the last few stairs, smiling as he walked through the door to someone just as happy to greet him, "Well, look what the hot mess express brought in, my word sweetie," she said with no real malice, grinning at him like he was her pride and joy, which he was.

"Hi mama," he replied plainly, chuckling softly as she came over and pulled his nearly six foot frame down to her 5 '2 height for a kiss on the side of his head.

His chuckle turned into a full chested laugh when she made a fake gag of disgust, "You smell just 'bout right rank, son. You sure the heifers weren't the ones hackin' it up at your stink?" she teased and Steve just shook his head.

"Had my arm so far up one of 'em I'm prolly 'bout half cow any how," The brunette boy mimicked the struggle sticking his arm up the back end of a cow, to which Annette Harrington grimaced, "That's why I let you boys do your thing and I do mine," she gestured to the kitchen, which is what first alerted Steve to the smell of freshly made chicken pot pie sitting ready on the ceramic countertop.

His eyes immediately lit up with pure delight, like a kid on Christmas morning, except he was nineteen and to some sad extent pot pie was the highlight of his week, “Mama you didn’t!” he exclaimed, about to go in for a big hug before remembering what he was covered in.

Mrs. Harrington just shook her head, “Alright, go get cleaned up, the pie ain’t gon’ grow legs.” Within an instant Steve was racing off to his bedroom to grab a pair of pajamas and then to his bathroom to shower.

And to say he was right would have been an understatement. Steve swore the hot stream of water that cascaded down his spine sent him into seventh heaven, easing out his jammed knee and stiff elbow with ease.

He enjoyed his escape for about as long as the hot water lasted, a mere few minutes, but that was long enough for him. When he stepped out of the shower he shook his hair out like a wet dog, letting the towel he scrubbed his head with next catch the excess. Shortly after, he grabbed the comb up next to his sink, swiping the steam off the mirror to give his unruly mop a good brush through before quickly throwing on the pajamas he had grabbed prior.

Steve practically burst through the bathroom door, following the promising scent of dinner, blatantly stopping in his tracks when he found something that was definitely not chicken pot pie.

“Oh, Steven,” Oh boy, “We have someone we’d like ‘fer you to meet.” The smile on his moms face was sickeningly different from that she had on when welcoming him in from his chores. A lot less genuine and a lot more plastic, but still warm in the way it always was, it was just her nature.

Steve didn’t say anything for a few seconds, taking in the atmosphere, his parents, that boy. He would be lying if he said the golden-haired figure standing between his folks didn’t look straight out of one of the magazines he’d seen the few times they went into the city.

Striking icy blue eyes, rimmed with lashes that damn near put any woman’s to shame. Thick brows somehow shaped to perfection, lain a top skin so perfectly sun kissed and freckled with intent. Steve had to force himself to shake these thoughts, knowing how damn stupid he must have looked gawking like an idiot. But that didn’t push away the confusion he felt as his heart seemed to pick up at the statuesque mystery man standing before him.

“If they’d ‘a told me we were having’ company I would’ve thought to dress a ‘lil nicer ‘n this,” he remarked, cheeks burning a bit with embarrassment, feeling almost stark naked in his pajama pants and plain white t-shirt. He huffed out a short breath when the guy in front of him gave him a rather unconvincing pity laugh, parents following suit, “Ain’t no skin off my back, ‘m sure we’ll see each other in worse,” the radiant boy replied, once again leaving Steve baffled, but maybe that’s just what he did.

“Names Billy by the way, Billy Hargrove” the boy- Billy extended his hand for Steve to take and he did, taking the few steps forward to give his hand a proper shake before returning the favor, “Steve Harrington, pleasure’s mine,” he replied simply with a short nod of his head.

His father seemed pleased enough by this interaction, though Steve could never really tell, he always had this sort of stone cold thing going on.

There was a beat of somewhat awkward silence before Annette interjected, “How about some homemade pot pie?” she offered, with a prompt clap of her hands, sending her boys and their guest to the dinner table. Normally Steve would have been beaming, ready to talk and talk and talk about anything and everything under the sun, but suddenly he wasn’t exactly in the mood.

“Well, Billy we really are glad to have ya here,” Mr. Harrington continued in the tone he only used around guests or, really, people he was trying to impress. The sickeningly sweet, layered on false happiness and enthusiasm that made Steve’s stomach hurt, “Yeah, ‘ll y’know my old man’s been rearin’ to get me out of the house since the second I stepped foot outta school,” Hm, so he was older, “Since I graduated early ‘n all, couldn’t happen fast ‘nough.” The lanky boy nearly spit out his water, choking in an awkward way to where it came halfway up his nose and made his eyes water.

Steve coughed it out a bit before bringing his napkin up to his face, watery eyes of shame blinking themselves dry, “Y’ alright there cowboy?” Cowboy, Steve looked up at the smirk on the other boy’s face and had to hold back a sneer. The last thing he needed tonight was to get into it with his dad while they had company over.

“ ‘M fine, thanks,” he mumbled, feeling the short- lived rage in his stomach settle when his mother brought the meal over just in time, “Shall we?” she chimed in a sing-song tone, that wasn’t anything like his fathers, hers was genuine. Because if there was one thing about Annette Harrington, she didn’t have a mean bone in her body for anyone, unless they messed with her family.

Steve tuned out the prayer, forehead pressed solidly against his hands clasped so tight his knuckles were about ghostly white. He was just wondering when this Billy guy was going to leave so this night could be over. But of course, just when the brunette thought the topic might change, of course, even after the prayer, his father, John, had to dwell.

“I’ll say that’s right impressive, y’know Steve here’s held back a year, he’s ‘sposed to have graduated by now, but,” Mr. Harrington shrugged as he dug into his dinner. His son sat there halfway gobsmacked, halfway offended, but he should’ve expected such.

Steve scoffed, “Only ‘cus you got me doin’ half your work every day. I barely got time for anythin’ else,” he mumbled under his breath just loud enough for the table to hear as he stared down at his mashed potatoes. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel his fathers eyes boring into his skull like laser beams.

Steve’s mom just looked at him with a disappointed expression, but didn’t interject because she knew good and well it was true, “ ‘F that’s whatcha really think ‘n you’ll be happy to hear you won’t have to do it no more.” Steve’s eyebrows practically shot up his forehead and through his hairline.

What the hell was he talkin’ ‘bout?

“Huh?” Was all he could manage before his dad excitedly cut off whatever he was planning to say next, “Well what else do you think we got Billy here for, looks?” This gave everyone but Steve a good laugh, he didn’t see any reason to be laughing right now.

“ ‘N just what ‘o you mean by that?” He was so blinded by anger that he couldn’t even think about eating the pot pie his sweet mother had made, but he’d get over that guilt. He couldn’t say the same for the fury burning deep within him. He looked over at Billy who looked smug as ever, chewing on a bit of his food, sneaky eyes peeking out of the rim of his rather ratty looking Resistol. Oh what he would give right now to punch that smug look right off that pretty boy face.

John Harrington gave Steve the look, his signature look that said ‘I dare you to go testin’ me, boy’ and if there was ever a time for that it would be now, “Steve, you’ve been slacking lately ‘n we both know it, son.” Steve went to open his mouth but got cut off, again, “ ‘N I figured having Billy stay here ‘n work with me ‘d give you the time off to do sumn else. Like helpin’ your mom ‘round the house, you did always seem… better suited for those things.”

This couldn’t be fuckin’ for real, “John-,” his mom tried to scold.

There’s no way his dad just basically called him a sissy, not after-

“I had my hand up a cow’s ass ‘fer you today, ‘n then you’re gonna go sayin’ that- that bullshit?” Steve burst, knowing he would no doubt have to pay for these words later. He felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes, not from guilt, not from shame, but of pure, unfiltered rage. But what really put salt in the wound was looking over at Billy, whose subtle smirk had far faltered, turning into something more innocent, more regretful. Like this wasn’t all his own damn fault in the first place.

Everything’s so unfair, this is so unfair. Not only did he feel hurt, but he felt embarrassed, having his dad say those things about him, basically calling him a sissy, in front of his own mother.

“Steven-” he heard his father try to reprimand, but Steve refused to take it. Instead, he stood up abruptly, the straightening of his knees sent his chair flying backwards against the wall. He would have cringed at the sound if he weren’t so genuinely pissed.

He was able to hold the tears in until he turned around, then it was like the dam just… burst. He felt a whine work its way up his throat, but he willed it back down, swallowing what last bit of pride he had left down with it.

Could a sissy do that? Maybe Steve didn’t want the answer to that.

He didn’t know what was going on, he’d never felt this was, this upset, this angry. He didn’t understand. He practically glid to his room, socked feet moving so fast he wasn’t sure whether or not he was actually taking real steps. And, frankly, he didn’t care, just wanted to be away.

When he made it to his room, he closed his door behind him and flopped down onto his bed, stomach down, choking on his own hushed sobs. It made him feel like a child again, pathetic, small, lonely. He turned on his side and curled in on himself a bit, clinging on to whatever little bit of comfort he could.

Through wallowing in his own self pity, he barely heard the faint mewl coming from behind him. He just groaned, hoping maybe if he ignored it long enough it, or rather she, would go away.

“Meooowww.” He should’ve known better, it was his fault for locking her in there with him anyways.

“Oh, Ginger,” he sighed, stuffy nose making him sound all nasally. And it was as if that was the permission the rather plump orange tabby needed to jump up on top of him like he was her human pillow, “Cain’t a man even have a few seconds alone.” To that, of course, she meowed at him in protest, ever the chatterbox.

Steve quickly accepted his defeat to the tubby cat when she somehow still gracefully jumped off his ribs and onto the empty spot in bed next to him. The pale light of bright stars shining through his window, reflecting off of Ginger’s big round saucer eyes were the only thing giving his room any light. But it didn’t matter because soon after he shut his own eyes, focusing on the purring of the seemingly content cat next to him, half wishing to disappear, half wishing to go back out there and beat Billy to a pulp. Even if only for existing.

Billy, stupid Billy and his stupid white teeth and his stupid pretty eyes and his stupid everything.

Fuck this dinner, fuck this day, and most importantly fuck Billy Hargrove.

#Harringrove #Steve Harrington #Billy Hargrove #Accidentally posted this last night when it wasn't ready so here we go again LMAO #Cowboy AU #Farm AU #Whatever you wanna call itWFJIKIWF

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astranva · 3 years

Text

TPWK Music Video

Word Count: 3.5k (omg shut up I didn’t think it’d be longer than 600 words)

Category: Fluff

Warning: idk a few swear words I guess? no proofreading is done on this blog ok 😭

Summary: Long-term girlfriend Y/N isn’t only the choreographer of TPWK, but she’s Harry’s dancing partner in the music video as well. Harry is in love, and can also be a pest.

reposting because tumblr hates it when i appear under tags

// masterlist //

For as long as you could remember, you were a dancer.

From pictures taken of you as a child by your family on your tippy toes in ballet costume, to professional ones of you ranking as first in dancing championships as a teenager as you experimented with styles other than ballet, to you befriending some of the biggest names in film and music industries as you choreographed the dances for them in the studio you owned, having had bought one at the age of only 22 and it being one of the most successful dance studios there is, with people flying from all around the world to attend your workshops and get a glimpse of what you create.

You were friends with people you had never thought, as an aspiring teenager, to know and help create choreography for, along with all the musical movies you helped bring a different tune to by the dance steps you created, and to mention one name of many, you were most proud of The Greatest Showman.

Initially, you were a friend of a friend of Harry’s.

You met the English man 3 years ago; flirting with one another for 7 months on end – Harry liked to remind you that you would’ve been together way sooner if it weren’t for the both of you being in different countries so often during that time –, dating for 1, officially being together for the rest of the 2 and half years and until that very moment.

“Look, Y/N just sent me the video they made at her Tokyo workshop.”

“I can’t make it, guys. Y/N created the choreography for Ari’s new video, and she’s in it. It premiers tonight.”

“Like my hoodie? Exclusively got to be the first person to wear Y/N’s new merch collection. Looks sick, doesn’t it? Worked so damn hard on that one.”

“Have you seen Lizzo’s new music video? Y/N made the choreography!”

If anything, your friends and family liked to joke about how Harry was a fanboy of yours.

Taking Harry with you to your studio made Harry resemble a child on a Christmas morning, or a child accompanying a parent to their work for a “take your kid to work” day. He never denied the pride he felt whenever he watched you in your element, watching you gracefully do your thing, so beautifully and passionately, in a studio that looked different from his.

“We were thinking,” he said one night as he got under the covers with you, smiling and closing his eyes as you reached to rub a missed spot of his night cream on his forehead, “Of creating a music video for Treat People.”

“How many music videos are you planning to make, really? 12? For all 12 songs on your record?” You had joked with a smile, watching him snuggle into the covers with a giggle.

“And what about it?”

“Just the fact that you never warn your poor fans,” you had chuckled, “What do you have in mind for it?”

“It’s all too fresh,” Harry said, “But I have a concept in mind.”

You had hummed, resting your head on your pillow, sitting face-to-face with Harry under the covers before he excitedly propped himself up on his elbow.

“Retro. Just retro, a casino, and a dance.”

Your eyebrows went up, a surprised look on your face, “Not what I had in mind but go on.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Lots of people, kind of like a parade thing in the street.”

“That’s nice,” he smiled.

“But...” Knowing him well enough, you continued with a roll of your eyes.

“People won’t expect a vintage video, will they?”

“I don’t think they’ll expect a video for Treat People to begin with, baby.”

“Right,” he nodded, “So, what do you think?”

Just as you were about to confirm your excitement to the concept, your face had shifted to an expression of confusion;

“Did you say a dance?”

It didn’t take Harry long to discuss the concept with his team, going through the theoretical bit of creating a music video before Jeff asked the one question Harry had been excited to answer;

“Who’s going to do the choreography? Who’s going to be your dancing partner? We need to go over some pe-”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“You really think I’ll let anyone but my girlfriend do either of that?” Harry asked sarcastically with a smirk, “Planning on asking her tonight.”

“You son of a bitch, you already have it all planned.” Jeff laughed, shaking his head at his client and best friend.

And Harry stayed true to his word.

Insisting on driving you to and picking you from your studio after your workshop, Harry greeted you with a quick kiss once you were seated in his car, groaning about how ready you were to get in bed.

He was a little impatient, he’d admit. Holding a conversation about your day seeming to have had distracted him just a tad until you were both home and in comfortable mismatched PJ’s, indulging a late-night snack in your kitchen which consisted of quick sandwiches.

“And then he calls me, tells me that he wants me to come up with a dance for his tour promo video in a day, H! A day! Can you believe that?”

“Fucking idiot. What did you tell him?” Harry frowned, moving to remove a piece of crumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Declined for sure. Told him that it was too short of a notice, like, what am I supposed to do? Stop the time?”

“And what did he say?”

“Whined like a baby,” you scoffed, nodding to Harry’s annoyed expression, “I know!”

“Who does he think he is?” He rhetorically asked, “Calling one of the most demanded choreographers and expecting you to just do as he says. As if.”

Despite your annoyance at the said celebrity, your frown faltered at your boyfriend.

“And you know what’s funny?” He went on, “That you’ve been trying to reach a common ground, like, a solution that would be convenient for the both of you but he’s being an unhelpful, ungrateful twat.”

You pouted, reaching to pull him closer by one of his hoodie’s strings, pecking his lips, “Thanks for sharing the same annoyance and trash talking him with me.”

“Just wish some people weren’t dicks to you, love,” he sighed, “You don’t deserve it.”

“I can take care of them.” You smiled.

“I know you can, you deal with them so well, I don’t know how you do it,” Harry said, “But I still think some people need to stop giving you a hard time. Pisses me off.”

“Yeah? It’s hot.” You teased him, leaving a lingering kiss on his lips.

Harry’s posture eased, chuckling at you as he held on to your waist. “Glad you think so.”

“Always do,” you confirmed, “Now, what do you want to tell me?”

His eyebrows came together in confusion, “How did you know that? How- How did you know that I have something to say?”

You chuckled knowingly, giving him a shrug, “It’s a little offensive that you think I don’t know you well,” you sarcastically began, “But to answer your question, you tend to touch your bottom lip more often when you have something to say. And you have this look on your face.”

He might have fallen in love again and again that moment, opting to say silent for a moment as he took what you had said in – as he took you in.

Harry let out a sigh of contentment, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and bringing you closer in a hug before pressing a soft kiss to your head, “Love you so much.”

“Love you, too,” your muffled voice replied, “Now tell me.”

“You know how I told you I wanted Treat People to have a dance? And it’s all retro and all that?”

You nodded, looking at him.

“How do you feel about creating that? Being in the music video with me as my dancing partner?” He bashfully asked, eyes twinkling and smile innocent.

Your eyes widened, “What? Me?”

“Who else?”

“Are you being for real right now?” You laughed in disbelief, “Not only do you want me to create the choreography, but- but you want me in it?”

“Precisely, yes.” He nodded with a smile.

“Wow,” you smiled, shaking your head, “Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asked, “You’re so fucking talented and good at what you do, people know we’re together, I have been impatiently waiting for you to join me in any of that stuff, and it’ll be fun,” Harry listed before shrugging, “What do you say?”

“I mean, I see the fun part,” you replied, “But when do you want that? When do you want to start filming? I’m going to need more details.”

“Whatever you need.”

And again, Harry was a man of both words and actions, filling you with what you needed to know and enjoying how you seemed to glow brighter at the mention of your job and passion.

It didn’t take long before you were both in the studio after having discussed some technicalities with Harry’s team. On some days, you and Harry would goof around in your studio after you were done with the day. You’d occasionally teach Harry a move or two, and more often than not, Harry was the audience you needed to watch a new choreography of yours that you were either unsure or proud of.

But to be able to have Harry join you from start to finish in what you enjoyed doing had another feeling; one that neither of you could explain.

“You kick out with your right, then,” you demonstrated, “Step in.”

With pursed lips and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, Harry copied your moves, eyes on himself through the gigantic mirror in front of the both of you.

“Good job!” You grinned, “Alright so it’s, 5, 6, go 7, and 8,” you began from the top, “Then 1, and 2,” you stepped with your feet as you moved, “Kick, step, kick, step, turn,” you turned, “Push to the side,” you recapped slowly, “Clap, clap. Come on, you do it.”

Harry took a moment, letting out a breath as he shook his limbs, “Alright, got it,” he mumbled, “Can you count?”

“Yeah, baby, sure,” you giggled quietly, “5, 6, 7, 8…”

“Ah fuck,” he groaned as he seemed to lag before the next step.

You approached him, resting your hands on his shoulders before cupping his face to have him look at you, “You’re nervous. Why are you nervous?”

“Besides the fact that it’s the first time I do this?”

“Do what? Dance? We took salsa classes together.” You reminded him gently.

“No, love, just- this, for a video. And you’re so fucking good. I didn’t think you’d put that much effort into my little video but the dance looks amazing and I’d just, hate to not do it justice.” Harry ended his confession with a sigh, shoulders slumping down.

“H,” you pouted, “Baby, you’re an amazing dancer,” at that, Harry rolled his eyes, “Nooo, you are!” You repeated, assuring him, “If you can’t see how far better you’ve gotten than you’re blind, H.”

Harry’s face softened, looking at you as you nodded at him.

“We’re both putting effort and I won’t rest until we give this all it takes for you to enjoy it, alright?” You leaned closer, pecking his nose with a soft kiss which seemed to work to make him giggle, reaching to scratch his nose,

“Tickles.”

“Oh yeah?” You jokingly wiggled your fingers into his sides, “In your spot, Styles, let’s go!”

You weren’t surprised that after all your little classes together, Harry had perfected the choreography. It wasn’t just in your time together that Harry practiced; you caught him in the kitchen, in the shower, counting under his breath as he sat with a dazed look on his face, and you had seen him far too many times watching the recorded tutorial you had made for him and your backup dancers.

You weren’t surprised because you knew that once he set his mind to something, he wouldn’t rest until he reached it.

But just because you weren’t surprised, didn’t mean that you were any less proud.

Far too many videos on your phones were added of one another during that time; Harry dramatically lying on the floor in the studio, sweaty and panting as you recorded him while laughing, zooming into his dopey but smiling face, your phone propped up as it recorded the both of you practicing the entire choreography, catching the bit when Harry dipped in your arms but you weren’t ready and he ended up falling, bringing you down with him as the both of you burst out laughing.

He loved seeing you in your element, that was an established fact, but being with you in your element? That was priceless.

“Jesus, this is heavy!” Gemma exclaimed as she tried Harry’s sequined, bright cropped blazer.

Filming came by, and there was nothing like seeing hard work pay off.

Harry chuckled at his sister, taking the blazer from her before putting it on, “Have you seen Y/N? Is she done?”

“They were retouching her hair.”

Harry’s stomach was filled with butterflies. If you asked him for the reason behind them, he wouldn’t know how to answer; because he was nervous he’d mess up? Normal jitters before filming? Or maybe, it was the fact that you were finally joining him and that alone was enough to have him giddy, giggly, and bouncy?

Gemma would say it was the latter, having had watched and heard Harry ask about his girlfriend during the entirety of the process of getting ready;

“Is she alright?”

“Feel like I’m getting married and I’m not allowed to see my bride.”

“Can you please tell Y/N to check her phone? She puts it on silent whenever she’s working but I want to show her my hair.”

In the dressing room beside his, you began laughing the moment Gemma stepped in, already knowing from her huff and annoyed look the reason behind them.

“Bloody pest! How do you deal with him being all clingy over you like that?”

“I don’t,” you joked, “He’s nervous.”

“And a little annoying.”

“Thank you,” you smiled to the hairdresser before getting out of the chair, “Where’s the man of the hour?”

“Whining outside that door,” Gemma answered with a raise of her eyebrows and a smile, “You look amazing, love.”

“Really?” You smiled bashfully, tugging on your vintage jacket and looking down at your shoes, “It’s a light outfit.”

“Should try Harry’s blazer,” she huffed, “So heavy.”

Walking outside the room with Gemma, you saw Harry standing with your group of backup dancers, smiles on all of their faces as he talked with them, you fully knowing that he was making sure they were comfortable.

“Here comes the bride!” Gemma joked, raising her arms up.

Harry turned, and everyone was sure that it might as well have been your wedding.

His eyes seemed to reflect the shiny blazer he had on, dimples showing as he grinned, opening his arms at you.

Concealing the shyness you felt under his stare, you laughed as you wrapped your arms around him in a hug, feeling his hand rubbing your back. “You look so good,” you said, pulling away to look at him, “Where’s Lambe- There you are,” you pointed at Harry Lambert who approached the both of you, “How do you do it? What’s your secret?”

“Only the best for Sue,” Harry Lambert said, tipping an imaginary hat at Harry, “And our Angel.” He kissed your cheek.

Soon enough, everyone was asked into place.

For the first shot, they decided to film Harry entering the stage with the dancers first.

Standing at a safe distance away from the camera’s view, you heard the director call before they began recording.

“I got a good feeling,” you watched Harry sing into the vintage microphone, TPWK playing in the background as well, as he leaned to the side.

A smile was on your face, hands clutched together under your chin as you watched Harry and the dancers stick to the choreography you had worked on for the last 3 weeks.

Seeming to be too into your own world of watching your boyfriend, you hadn’t noticed right away when Gemma threw her arm around you until she squeezed you into a side hug, “Did so well, love.”

You gave her a smile and returned the hug, at loss of words.

For your takes, Harry was exactly as what Gemma had called him – a pest.

“Harry, stop making faces at her!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll stop now.”

“Harry!”

“What? I didn’t do anything!”

“You took a picture of Y/N with your flash on!”

“Oh shit, sorry.”

But you couldn’t be mad nor stop laughing, enjoying it too much for anybody’s liking.

“This is why I don’t accept when you ask me to be in your videos.” You joked as you all took a break, munching on a banana.

“See? You deprive me too much, baby.” Harry giggled, pecking your cheek quickly before reaching to grab a banana for himself.

“You’ve been depriving all these people from going back home early for the last couple of days, and look,” you pointed at Mitch, “Mitch looks like he’s close to murdering you.”

“I think that’s just his face, love. He hates this.”

“Alright, are we ready?” The director asked, “3, 2, 1, action!”

Harry sang as he stepped on the table you were sat at with your “friends”, a smile on his face as he did, his palm open towards you.

“And if our friends all pass away,” he sang, the soft ah’s following which was your cue to put your hand in his, stepping up on the table with him, “It’s okay.”

Nobody knew how the both of you did it, but everyone was satisfied with the one take they took.

It didn’t feel like filming anymore to either of you the moment Harry threw his bowtie away as you faced one another on stage, genuine smiles on your faces as you broke into the choreography you could do without a thought at that point.

There were moves that Harry had struggled with during practice, one of them being when he held you as you did a cartwheel; but all these struggles were long forgotten once the both of you gracefully did that move.

The song played as the both of you danced in front of the backup dancers and Harry’s band, only adding to the smiles on your faces before it began to come to an end – the end.

Harry twirled, your eyes following him with a smile before you dipped up with one arm, your other raised in the air, while one of Harry’s arms was around your back, the other stretched out.

“Cut! Amazing job! Amazing, amazing, job!”

The both of you were panting, you looking down at him as you giggled before you leaned down, pressing your lips to his in a quick kiss as everyone cheered.

Harry sat on it, and you sure as hell were glad he did because after one eventful year, he took matters in his own hands to start 2021 right the moment he dropped the music video on the 1st of January.

“It hasn’t been 10 minutes and it’s trending,” you laughed in shock, scrolling through your Twitter, “Your power!”

“No,” Harry smiled gratefully as he watched you as the both of you cuddled on your couch as and after you had watched the music video together, “All yours.”

“Stop,” you dragged, “You’ve been crediting me for a year for this video as if I did everything.”

“You practically did, love. It was all about the dance and look at you,” he sighed in contentment, squeezing you against him, “Made a dancer out of me.”

“You’re a natural.” You patted his cheek.

Harry scoffed, mind shifting to his X-Factor choreography, “Trust me, I’m not.”

“But seriously,” you began after a moment, looking up at him and making him shift to look at you, “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he repeated, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, you pest.”

“Hey!”

#harry styles fluff one shot #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles imagine #tpwk music video #harry styles

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bees--in-my--bones · 3 years

Text

Mission: New Asgard

Character: Loki x reader (completely gender neutral. There are zero indications of the readers gender, no pronouns at all. Note that this is written from the perspective of a woman, though, so if something is too biased, please let me know!)

Summary: You are assigned to help integrate the Asgardians to Midgardian society, but your mission ends a whole lot different than you expect.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 5,493

A/N: My second fic! The title is supposed to be a play on the Mission: Impossible movies, but I've never actually seen one, so sorry if it's wrong lol. Now that I officially have more than one fic, I'm gonna make a masterlist, so that will be coming soon. I hope you like the story!

You rapped your knuckles on the office door that had been left slightly ajar. “Director Mackenzie? You asked to see me?”

“Come on in, Y/N. Elena was just leaving.”

You opened the door and nodded at Agent Rodriguez as she made her way out. She gave you a curt nod in return.

Alphonso Mackenzie, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., leaned back into the chair behind his desk and gestured for you to have a seat. “And for the last time, Y/N, you are one of my most trusted operatives. Call me Mack, please.”

You sat down. “Sorry, Mack.”

He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a file folder stuffed to the brim with documents, which he dropped onto the desk between you, the loud thwap resounding in the small office.

“I have a mission for you, Agent. A few days ago, the planet Asgard was completely destroyed.”

“Asgard?” you interjected. “Like where Thor is from?”

He nodded. “You’ll find all of that and more in these files. Thor and his brother Loki have set up a colony in a small town in Norway. We need you to supervise the integration of the Asgardian people onto Earth. This is the first known mass migration of aliens that our planet has ever seen, and we need to be keeping a close eye on this, or it could go sideways real fast.”

You pulled the files closer and began to flip through a few pages. “I thought Loki was a bad guy. What was it? 80 people in 2 days? Plus the invasion of New York. Why are we letting him back here?”

Mack sighed and rubbed his temple. “I can’t personally vouch for the man, but Thor claims he was being mind controlled. According to Thor, Loki eventually broke free of the control and killed the guy who was behind the whole thing. Some alien named Thanos? Tony Stark himself seems okay with this New Asgard business, and you know how paranoid he gets. So for now, we observe, not attack.”

“Gotcha,” you said. “When do I leave?”

“As soon as you can get your stuff together and get out of here. Say the word and we'll start prepping a Quinjet.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you said, standing up and grabbing the files. “I’ll let you know as soon as I get an idea of my timeline.”

“Thank you Agent L/N, and good luck.”

------

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, barely making a rather sharp turn. When you finished this assignment, you were going to have to have a talk with whoever designed these roads. Despite the unsafe driving conditions, though, you sighed in contentment. You were back in the field, this is where you belonged.

You pulled a van loaded to the brim with various tech items mixed in with your personal possessions down a bumpy road, coming to a stop before a small, rustic-looking, seaside town, where two men and a woman stood for you. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. You turned the key and shut off the van, trying to get a read on each of the people standing before you.

The buff blond man was clearly Thor. You recognized him from the news and the files you had read. Next to him was a tall woman with dark hair who had wan air of confidence about her. You had never seen her, nor did S.H.I.E.L.D. have any data on her. The third man was lanky, but clearly still fit, with dark hair that fell just past his shoulders. He was clad in green and had a demeanor that made you shiver. This was Loki, scourge of New York and would-be king of Midgard. But Thor and Tony Stark had vouched for him, and that would have to be enough for Y/N L/N, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

You exited the van and heard Thor call to you. “Welcome, newcomer! Our scouts observed your vehicle approaching our home!”

You walked briskly towards the group. Game time. Put on the 'no time for your shit' face and get to business. Coming to a stop in front of them, you began to speak. “My name is Y/N L/N and I am here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division of the American government. We have been granted permission from the government of Norway to oversee this colony's development. This is an unprecedented situation on Earth, and as such, we have written new protocols. I am the agent assigned to this case, and I will be supervising the construction of New Asgard and its integration into Midgardian society.”

Thor furrowed his brow. “I was under the impression that S.H.I.E.L.D. was controlled by Hydra.”

You nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. The previous incarnation of S.H.I.E.L.D. was corrupt, but we are a hardy breed, so to speak. A much smaller branch has survived, and deals with various situations across the world, aliens being one of them.”

Thor nodded. “Then we welcome your presence here with open arms.”

Loki scoffed. “You are too trusting, brother. This so-called agent could be anyone. What cause do we have to believe this story?”

You turned to him. “Loki, God of Mischief, Chaos, and Lies, correct? You of all people should know, am I lying?”

He stared at you, long and hard, before shaking his head. “No, I suppose you aren’t,” he admitted.

“There’s that then,” you said. “Now, I will need to ask the three of you some questions regarding yourselves, if you don’t mind.”

-----

The strange woman was first. You had been given a small shack to conduct your interviews out of, the woman stared at you from across the table, looking for all the world like she had somewhere better to be.

“Name?”

“Brunnhilde.”

“No family name?”

“I am a Valkyrie. I have no blood other than my sisters.”

“Right,” you said, “You lived on Asgard then?”

Her face took on a sour look. “A long time ago. I’ve spent the last few centuries on a different planet, Sakaar.”

You scribbled the information into your notepad. “What do you do then? If you were gone so long, why are you back with the Asgardians?”

Her chest puffed with pride. “I am to be the new King of Asgard. On the Summer Solstice we will hold a coronation. It will give the people enough time to accept the transfer of power from Odin’s bloodline to me, and for me to learn how to lead.”

You nodded and took note of it. “Congratulations,Your Majesty-to-be. I believe that’s all I need for now, but I expect we will see a lot of each other over the months.”

-----

Thor. The large man sat across from you, seemingly happy to be there.

“Thor Odinson, correct?” you asked him.

“Yes.”

“And I hear you're passing on the title of King to Brunnhilde?”

A dark look came over his face. “I have learned recently that my family has done many wrongs by Asgard. As long as I breathe, I will fight for Asgard and her people, but I do not believe it is my place to rule. Brunnhilde loves the people and has a talent for leadership. She will be a much better King than I.”

“A very noble decision, Thor. Thank you very much, and please send your brother in on your way out.”

-----

“Name?”

“I believe you know who I am.”

You sighed. “It's a formality, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Friggason.”

“What?”

“I prefer Loki Friggason.”

You nodded, and made the necessary changes to his file. “Noted. Anything else I should know about?”

“Just a warning,” he said, leaning forward, his voice dangerously low. “I am the God of Lies. The truth is a luxury I will afford no one, especially your little government. The God of Chaos is an enemy you do not want to have.”

You raised an eyebrow, and wrote a single word in your file, exaggerating each syllable as you wrote it out. “Dra. Ma. Tic.”

Truth be told, you were a little scared, given this guy’s reputation, but you would be damned before you let your exterior crack.

Loki scowled. He seemed to do that a lot. “You mortals think you are so funny, do you not?”

You shrugged. “I’m delightful.” You slipped your papers into your file folder and stood up. “See you around, Friggason.”

You left, leaving Loki slightly aghast that you had managed to get the last word in.

-----

You walked calmly out of the hut, then quickened your pace as you made your way back to your van. Loki, as much as it pained you to say, had been intimidating, and your heart was beating a mile a minute.

You opened the door and climbed inside, shoving your paperwork into a filing cabinet, which you promptly locked. You turned to your computers, fiddling with the buttons, atttempting to establish your connection back to S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters.

"It's quite rude to walk out on a prince, you know."

You jumped and whipped around to see Loki standing outside your van.

"What the hell!"

"I said-"

"I know what you said, Your Highness," you interrupted. "But you scared the shit out of me. “

"Many apologies," he said as he hoisted himself up to sit on the edge of the van, his insincerity clear. "And I grant you permission to refer to me as Loki."

"How generous," you muttered, before going back to your instruction manual. Technology had never been your forte. You chose being a field agent over a scientist for a reason.

The both of you sat in silence for a while, you working slowly through the instructions that Fitz, a S.H.I.E.L.D agent much more qualified in machinery than you, had given you.

You glanced up at Loki, half expecting to see him sleeping against the van's frame, only to find his gaze resting on you.

"Can I help you?" you asked.

He just laughed a bit, like staring at you had been the most normal thing in the world. "I am watching you, Midgardian, lest you sabotage the society my brother is trying to build."

"I never took you for the loyal type," you said, putting away your things. "I'm gonna have to ask you to get outta here though."

“Why?”

You gestured to the twilight outside. “It’s late. I’ve had a long day. I’m going to bed.”

Loki strained his head slightly, attempting to peek into the van. “Where do you plan on sleeping?”

Not breaking eye contact, you grabbed a cord on the wall and yanked, and the rusty old pull-down bed flopped out with a loud groan. The rickety old thing was probably going to give you back problems by the time you were done here, but such was life. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s money was usually spent on more pressing things than upgrading amenities for field agents.

Loki’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “You are not sleeping in that. We’ve built a larger house for Thor, Brunnhilde, and I. You’ll stay in one of the guest rooms there.”

You shrugged. “It’s not too bad out here.”

“Mortals,” he said under his breath, almost indecipherably, before speaking again, at a normal volume this time. “I insist. Whether I like it or not, you are a guest of Asgard, and you will be treated as such. Besides, that bed looks seconds away from collapsing.”

You nodded, trying not to betray your confusion at the combination of his kindness and rudeness. “Thank you, just give me a second to lock up.” You grabbed the pieces you had been fiddling with, then paused, your hand hovering over the satellite dish. “Actually, if you’re just gonna sit there, you may as well make yourself useful. You can teleport right?”

Suspicion crossed his face. “Yes?”

You held out the device. “Hop up to the top of the van, there should be a little cord. It’ll fit into this port here,” you said gesturing. “Plug it in for me, please?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You ask a god to do your bidding?”

You scoffed. “You’re not a god, you're an alien. And I just asked for a favor. You’re free to say no, but I’m exhausted, and as much as I would like to put off climbing on the roof off until tomorrow, I need to send a check in to headquarters ASAP.”

He begrudgingly reached out and took the dish and you watched as his form rippled green and faded away. You heard shuffling on the roof for a moment, then silence, before the Asgardian reappeared in front of you.

“If that’s all, Midgardian?” he said.

“Thank you, Highness,” you said, ignoring his tone. “And thank you for offering the room.” The monitor beeped a confirmation that your signal had connected and you punched in a code to let S.H.I.E.L.D. know you had made it to New Asgard. You grabbed the bag you had packed and hopped out of the van, waiting for Loki to follow suit before closing the doors and locking the vehicle.

You offered him your arm. “Shall we?”

He brushed past you, rolling his eyes at your mock-politeness.

“Alright then,” you muttered, “This is gonna be fun, isn’t it?” Taking one last look at the van behind you, you moved to catch up with the Asgardian walking briskly away from you.

-----

Loki had not been talkative on the way to the house, and after being curtly shown to your room, he quickly left. You had settled into a decently sized room complete with a desk and a small bathroom attached. Undoubtedly, the house was a far cry from an Asgardian palace, but it was much larger than needed for three, even four, people. Surprisingly, you got a sound night’s sleep.

You woke to rambunctious laughter, and, wiping bleariness from your eyes, got out of bed. You stood in front of a small mirror on the wall and attempted to make yourself look slightly less like you had just woken up. Moving to your bag, you put on clothes that were much more professional than the old sweatshirt you were currently wearing.

Finally satisfied, you stepped out of your room and followed the sounds of conversation into the kitchen, where you found Brunnhilde and Thor joking at the counter while Loki sat at a dining room table, reading a book.

Seeing you, Thor broke into a smile. “Y/N! Loki had told us you would be staying here!”

You returned the smile. “Thank you for letting me stay here, Thor. I really appreciate this.”

The large man set a plate heaping with food on the table and gestured for you to sit. You did, glancing at Loki as you took the seat across from him, but he made no move to acknowledge that you were there. Brunnhidle began to speak. “We will be building fishing boats today down at the docks today. Will you be joining us, Y/N? We could use an extra set of hands.”

You nodded. “I don’t mind helping out. I have a few things to take care of first, though, so I’ll meet you all down there.”

Thor clapped. “Excellent! We’ll make an Asgardian out of you yet!”

You laughed softly and finished your meal as Thor and Brunnhilde began to tell you the plans for the day.

------

After breakfast, you ran up to your room to grab your laptop and then met the rest of the group on the stairs of the house. “I’ll see you guys in a little while,” you said, waving while walking in the opposite direction.

Thor and Brunnhidle branched off from you, but Loki, still silent, walked beside you towards your van.

You looked at him quizzically, but he seemed to have no intention of indicating why he was with you, and not with Thor and Brunnhilde.

Finally, as you approached your van, you caved and asked. “Why are you with me instead of your brother?”

“I’ve consulted with Thor. I will be supervising you for the remainder of your stay here.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “I’m supposed to be supervising you guys!”

“You are a stranger,” he replied, “and there’s something about you that I don’t trust. I have harmed Asgard many times over, and I don’t intend to let you get away with hurting these people any more.” There was an edge to his voice, that you had to admit, scared you.

After a long moment, you sighed. “Fine. I could use an assistant, I guess.” Which was apparently the right thing to say, because it made him clearly flustered.

“I am no one’s assistant, I am a prince of Asgard,” he argued as you turned away from him, partially to unlock your van and partially to hide your laughter.

You hopped up into the vehicle and grabbed a folder and tossed it to Loki, who was still sputtering about his status behind you. “Scan those in, would you?” you said gesturing at a machine in the back corner of the van.

He huffed but snatched the folder from your hand and went to fiddle with the machine.

You glanced over. “Do you know how to use that?”

“Yes,” he snapped. “This is primitive technology compared to what I have seen in my travels.”

You shrugged. “Okay.” You turned to your computer and queued up a call to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. “I’m gonna need you to be quiet for a second,” you said, right before Mack’s face popped onto the screen.

“Y/N! How’s Norway treating you?” he said with a smile.

“Colder than I thought, but not too bad. They’ve given me an actual bed to sleep in. You really need to update the beds in these vans,” you joked.

“I’ll let the budget committee know,” he replied. “I trust Thor and Loki are being cooperative, then?”

“More or less,” you said before stepping to the side, putting Loki in full view of your webcam.

Mack’s eyes widened. The change was subtle, but you could tell he was surprised. “That’s Loki.”

“Yup.”

“In your van.”

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“His Highness has deemed me untrustworthy, and decided I need a chaperone.”

“Right,” said Mack, suspicion in his voice. “Well you know the drill. Weekly check-ins, and don’t hesitate to contact me if you have any problems,” he said, looking at Loki.

“Gotcha, Mack. Talk to you next week,” you said, turning off the call. You turned to Loki, who had yet to even turn the scanner on. “You don’t know how to work that, do you?”

He glared at you and did not reply.

“Come here, Your Highness, I’ll show you. It really isn’t that hard.”

“You know the honorific loses its value when you say it so sarcastically,” he said, while watching your motions intensely, memorizing the steps to work the machine.

“Sorry, Highness.”

-----

The two of you walked down to the beach shortly after, meeting Brunnhilde and Thor at the docks. You were allotted supplies and miraculously, you and Loki ended up caulking the same boat.

Great.

The silence was deafening at first, until you decided to break it.

“You know I never would have assumed that someone of such status would be out here doing the dirty work,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

He grimaced. “I owe Asgard a debt. I intend to repay it, however I can offer service.”

“A very noble stance from Loki, God of Mischief.”

He grinned and looked up, meeting your eyes. “I find that one can be noble while still being quite mischievous.”

You felt your face heat up, and ducked your head, looking down at your work. He had smiled at you, for the first time, and what he had said had sounded almost like flirting. Why had that made your stomach turn in such a strange way?

“Oh my,” he laughed. “Seems that the Midgardian is finally speechless.”

“Just trying to hold my tongue around my betters, Highness,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Now let’s get to work before Brunnhilde has our heads.”

-----

Finally, late that afternoon, the work was done, and the New Asgard armada of fishing boats was ready for a celebratory launch. You and Loki stood in the crowd, watching Brunnhilde give a speech in front of the flagship, which really wasn’t much larger than the rest of the fleet. Loki leaned over and whispered to you, “You know, back in the day, the Norse would give a human sacrifice to the sea god to ensure safe passage.”

You wrinkled your nose, put off by the suggestion. “I think I prefer the more English tradition,” you replied, watching as Brunnhilde smashed a bottle of champagne against the hull of the ship.

Loki sighed. “Such a waste of perfectly good champagne.”

“I’m sure there's plenty more alcohol around here somewhere,” you said as you walked over to your boat, preparing for her maiden voyage. You hopped in and offered Loki your hand to help him in. He hesitated, but he took it.

“What should we name her?” you asked.

“What?”

“You know,” you shrugged, “We have to give our ship a name.”

Loki seemed to ponder it a moment before deciding. “How about The Midgardian?”

You put your hand on your chest in mock flattery. “Aww, you named her after me, didn’t you?”

He laughed. “It’s a fitting name. She’s lackluster and hardly even worthy of being called a boat.” His words were biting, and maybe you were imagining things, but you could have sworn you heard the playfulness in his voice.

You laughed and tossed him an oar. “For you, Highness.”

“Many thanks, Midgardian.”

The two of you followed the rest of New Asgard, rowing out to sea. Suddenly, you noticed a small sprig of water in the bottom of the boat. “Loki,” you said, the fear dawning on you, “I think the boat is leaking.”

He turned to see the small leak coming through the floorboards. “Okay,” he said, suddenly serious, “Don’t panic. Let’s turn around.”

You switched the side you were paddling on, beginning to move the boat in a circle. Before you could completely orient yourselves, the floorboards cracked, and a large chunk of wood detached from the boat. You yelped as the water came flooding in.

Loki swore. “Can you swim?” he asked you, speaking quickly.

You nodded. All S.H.I.E.L.D. agents knew how to swim.

“Then jump!” he said, and you did, without a second thought. Your boat was sinking fast, and there was no way you were going to make it back to shore dry.

You hit the water, and a second later, heard Loki behind you.

“Swim towards Thor’s boat, he can get us-”

You missed the rest of his sentence as you were pulled away from him.

You fought the current that had taken hold of you, but your panic was making things worse. In the confusion, you lost control, and dipped under water. The ocean filled your mouth. Breaking the surface again, you choked out most of the water, trying to stay calm and find a way out, but every second you were being pulled further out to sea. Falling under once again, you were prepared to accept your fate when a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around you and pulled you into calmer waters.

You gasped for air as Loki held you against himself, allowing you time to recover.

“Wha- How did-” you began, once you could speak.

“Don’t talk, just breathe,” he said. “I am a god, I can overpower currents much easier than your mortal bodies can.”

“Thank you, Loki,” you said.

“You are welcome, Y/N.”

A larger boat pulled up next to you, Thor leaning over the side. “Brother, Agent Y/N! Take my hand!”

Loki helped you onto the deck of the boat before climbing over the side himself.

You flopped onto the deck, panting. “Rest in peace, SS Midgardian.”

-----

Later that night, you and Loki sat together watching the fire crackle. Thor had brought you a hot drink, and after plenty of fussing ensuring that you were okay, had left to do something leader-ish with Brunnhilde.

Suddenly, a loud scuffling at the door broke the silence and a series of thudding footsteps made their way toward you. Upon seeing your company, Loki sighed, exasperated. You turned and saw a large figure that appeared to be made out of rock alongside a smaller, insect-looking creature.

The large one began to speak, his gentle tone in contrast with his threatening form. “Hello. Um, I’m Korg and this is my friend Meik. We came to apologize for the whole boat thing. Thor put us in charge of wood collection, so it’s our bad, really. Sorry.”

“Oh, um, that’s alright,” you said, still processing the fact that there were two very large, very strange-looking, aliens in the living room. “You couldn’t have known the wood was rotting, and no one’s dead, so we’re good.”

“Alright, cool,” said Korg. “No harm, no foul, yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Right then,” he said, scooping up Miek. “We’ve gotta get going. Thor put us on clean up duty for the next week.”

“Thank you, Korg!” you called, but he was already out the door.

Loki let out another sigh. “Idiots.”

You turned back to him. “I had no idea there were other aliens here! How many species came with you?”

“Just Korg and Meik. And unfortunately, they are around a lot.”

You settled into your armchair. “I’m gonna have to document this.” But even as you said it, you could feel yourself drifting off.

-----

The next day you woke in your own bed, slightly embarrassed at the implication that Loki had carried you there, but he never brought it up, so neither did you.

The next few weeks were filled with collecting information and helping with the construction of New Asgard to fill the rest of your time. Always, of course, accompanied by Loki. In a strange way, you were becoming friends. The two of you never exchanged a single kind word, but your actions said otherwise. Before long, it seemed less like Loki was breathing down your neck and more like he was genuinely relaxing around you.

“Hey, Mack,” you said, beginning your weekly call-in, Loki now sitting beside you instead of hiding in the background.

“Hey there, Y/N. How’s it going, Loki?”

“Quite well, thank you, Director Mackenzie.”

You stared at him in shock. You had never heard Loki use honorifics for a Midgardian.

The rest of the call was uneventful, and as soon as you hung up, you whirled toward Loki.

“You were polite!” you said, your tone accusatory.

Loki sniffed. “I do have manners, you know.”

“You called him Director Mackenzie.”

“And?”

“And I can count the number of times you’ve used my real name on one hand. It’s always ‘Midgardian’ this ‘Midgardian’ that. You know Mack’s a Midgardian too, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “And you call me ‘Highness’ in that terrible mocking tone of yours. The disrespect is mutual.”

You sighed. “Fine, we’ll call a truce. I’ll call you Loki, you call me Y/N, deal?” You stuck out your hand, waiting for his response.

He seemed to be considering his options, before he settled on his choice. “Deal.” He grasped your hand firmly within his and shook it.

“Glad we’re on the same page, Loki,” you said, leaning back into your chair.

“What now, Y/N?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I dunno. Brunnhilde and Thor don’t have anything going on, and I’m done with what I need to do.” You started clicking around on your computer. “Wanna watch a movie?”

“I’ve heard of movies, but never seen one.”

“You’ve never seen a movie?” you asked. “I guess that makes sense. It’s basically just a recorded play. You’ll love it.” You pulled up a movie. One of the lesser known perks of working for S.H.I.E.L.D.: free Netflix. “This is one of my favorites,” you said as the opening credits rolled.

“I suppose you aren’t giving me a choice then?” he asked.

“Nope,” you replied. “Now be quiet and watch.”

-----

Later that night, you were in the kitchen with Thor, cleaning up after dinner. The two of you worked in comfortable silence until suddenly-

“Are you and my brother involved romantically?”

The plate you were washing fell into the soapy water with a splash.

“What?”

“I have never seen him willingly be around a person as he is you,” Thor explained. “And he has changed. He is happier than he was before Midgard.”

You shook your head. “He doesn’t- I thought he was just ‘supervising’ in case I tried to kill you all.”

“Hardly. The man just has no clue how to adjust to a more… domestic lifestyle. He wants to be around you, he just does not know how to express that.”

“Huh,” was all you managed to say, not looking up from the dishes.

Thor let out a small chuckle. “One day you two will figure it out,” he said so quietly you weren’t even sure he said it.

-----

More time passed, you and Loki still spending your days together. Before you knew it, the Summer Solstice was here, and you spent the morning preparing.

Rushing around your van, alone for once, you scrambled to get your work done quickly before Brunnhidle’s coronation began.

Finishing up you glanced at your monitor when you saw a message pop up.

Alphonso Mackenzie: I forgot to mention it in our call this week, but you’re coming up on the six month mark, and there seems to be no complications with Asgard’s transition, so we’ll be pulling you back to HQ. We’ll sort out the details in next week’s meeting.

You felt a sinking feeling in your chest, which was quickly replaced by determination as you began to type your response.

-----

You hurried to Loki’s side, panting slightly, making it to the coronation just in time for Brunnhidle to make her entrance.

“You’re late,” he whispered.

“Shh,” you said. “They’re starting.”

-----

After every great coronation comes an even greater feast, and the Asgardians spent the rest of the day revealing and celebrating their new leader.

Surprisingly, you had seen very little of Loki. That wouldn’t last long though, because as the sun dipped below the horizon, your closest friend in New Asgard appeared from the crowd and said nothing as he led you to a private space away from the partygoers.

“I’ve hardly seen you all night,” he said, as soon as the two of you had a moment of relative silence.

“I know,” you laughed softly. “It’s been strange to not be around you.”

Your smile fell and you looked up at him. “Look, Loki, I have some news, and I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about it.”

His expression turned serious and he led you to a small bench, where the both of you sat. He stayed silent, waiting for you to speak.

“I got a message from Mack today. They want me back in America.”

Loki’s entire demeanor changed. “What? You can’t go back. There’s still so much I- so much supervising to be done here.”

“That’s where the part I’m unsure of comes in,” you said. “I talked to Mack, and the specifics still need to be discussed, but if we can get agreement from all parties, he wants to create a new position at S.H.I.E.L.D. I’d be the first permanent Asgardian-Midgardian liaison that S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever had.”

His face broke into a grin and he clasped your hands into his. “That’s wonderful! Why would I have any problems with that?”

“You haven’t always been my biggest fan,” you said, nudging his arm gently.

He was silent for a moment, looking for the words. “Maybe not at first,” he began slowly, looking you directly in your eyes, “but now, I’d argue that you are closer to me than anyone else.”

You suddenly became all too aware of his hands resting on yours, and the closeness of his face to yours. “Loki…”

“I hate to admit it, but after a long talk with Thor, I’ve realized that I’ve grown quite fond of you, Y/N.”

“I guess I’ve grown fond of you too, Your Highness,” you said, smiling softly.

“Oh, Midgardian,” he said, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice as his face drew nearer.

You didn’t remember which of you closed the gap, only that it was the most magical kiss you had ever had.

A/N: Thanks for reading! :)

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki x female reader #loki x male reader #loki x gender neutral reader #loki imagine #loki friggason x reader #loki laufeyson imagine #loki friggason x you #loki friggason imagine #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #x reader

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thismaydestroyme · 3 years

Text

Little Did I know Pt. 2

summary: in this short story, harry is famous, and he moved into a town during the summer to relax and potentially write some new songs for his upcoming album. i included some song lyrics from different amazing artists, and i pretended that harry and y/n wrote it.

author’s note: i wrote the beginning of this two months ago me being lazy i picked up where i left off because i’m too lazy to read through this. so if there’s any major fuck ups then…. i did warn you that i’m incompetent

word count: 3165

“I’m a SLAVE FOR YOU!” Y/N shouts out, and little did you know Harry was front and center watching your trainwreck of a performance.

Harry did a whole french inhale without breaking eye contact with you. “I really wanna dance tonight with you.” Y/N hears Brittany playing in the background which you pause the music, to see what Harry would say about your little ‘performance.’

“Really? A slave? don’t you think it’s pretty dramatic don’t ya think?” Harry says, raising one of his eyebrows. You know he’s just playing around, but you coudn’t help feeling embarrassed how he fucking witnessed… that. You don't want Harry to know that you’re embarrassed, so you did the next best thing.

“That fucking snake was huge. Did you know she was holding an Albino Burmese Python? I bet MTV wasn’t expecting that. Do you think MTV got filthy rich from that performance? Everyone tuned in for that performance and till this day it’s still the most talked about.” You ramble and spew out random information you bet Harry couldn’t care two shit about.” Harry has a smirk on his face, you bet he was enjoying you looking like a damn idiot.

You start profusely apologizing until Harry interrupts you, “Do you want to come over?” He says all nonchalantly and walks away without you even agreeing. You’re all stunned and weren't able to even say one single word or even move your two feet. Harry doesn’t need to turn around to see you not moving, “C’mon weirdo, don’t act all shy with me now.” He threw back.

“Fuck.” You whisper, but your feet finally start to move and your feet are heading straight to Harry.

Harry turned his head and started to smirk, but he kept walking which had you feeling some nerves building up in your stomach. You’re not scared per se, just you’re going to Harry Styles house. This is normal. This is fine. This is just a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Cool.

When you finally get to his entrance Harry is already inside and he disappears somewhere because you don’t see him. You hesitantly walk inside and shut the door behind you. When you turn around you couldn’t help, but notice the disarray this house is covered in. Your mouth gape opened, but you immediately brought your hands to cover up how shocked you are. You couldn’t help but gawk at Harry’s place. There’s a big pink couch in the center of the room which is covered in boxes and clothes. There’s a TV on the floor which doesn’t seem to be plugged in because you don’t see it even plugged in. You try not to be too judgy because he did just move in, so what do you expect? Harry having his life all sorted out in a span of a couple of weeks?

You almost missed the nice white fluffy carpet that’s underneath the couch. Even though Harry’s place is a disaster, you can envision what Harry is planning on doing when he has his stuff all situated. In the back of your mind you hope he might even invite you back if he does a ‘welcoming party.’

Before you could even investigate more Harry walks back in with two bottles of water in his hand. He’s already drinking out of one of them, so he handed the one that hasn’t been opened to you. You reach your hands over to grab it.

“This isn’t safe for the environment.” You states while unscrewing the cap.

“Well.. you belting out to Britney is an endangerment to our society, so I guess we both got the short end of the sticks.”

You immediately start drinking your water because you didn’t have your next rebuttal. You start scanning the room and hoping it’ll have your heartbeat settle down because you can feel it through your chest. Harry moves from his spot and starts taking boxes off the couch and to make some room for the both of you. He had to take down three boxes, so you could both sit comfortably.

Harry walks over to you, but you freeze. Harry was pleased knowing he had you all flustered. It was one of Harry’s turn ons. Harry sits and brings his arms draping on the back of the couch which would have you being in his arm if you decide to sit right there. A couple of seconds of you contemplating you walk towards Harry and hesitantly sit down.

“I’m not going to bite.” he whispers in your left ear. Feeling his breath in your ear made you slightly clench your thighs together, hoping Harry doesn’t notice. But knowing your track record he probably did notice.

You try to come up with a conversation starter that hopefully doesn't hold all the spotlight on you. You look down at her close water bottle and scrambling for something in her head.

“Now you’re shy. The last time I checked up you were coming for my head after that mishap with your dog earlier.”

“You deserved it. You were attacking Cosmo, so yeah. I was in fact coming for your ass.” You glance your eyes to Harry. You’re overly protected over Cosmo. Cosmo is your life.

Harry gave you a smirk. He couldn’t help but to admire your bluntness. He barely comes across people who lit a fire inside of him. They always try to please him because he is a celebrity, and people just want to please him- which he doesn’t mind, but he does wish they sometime bites back. Having you in his presence he doesn’t want to let you go just yet, little did he know, he wants to get to know you more.

“What do you do, Y/N besides piercing people’s eardrums and being a dog mom.”

“Ummm.. that’s a loaded fucking question. But you being Harry fuckin’ Styles I guess I have to come up with something to make myself more interesting and less… chaotic. Well I’m a 21 years old who doesn’t have anything to offer to this world. I live my life accepting I’ll probably be working at Newbury Comics. And on top of that I love music, but I’ll be considered unqualified because I have no talents, and all I could do is muster up some mediocre lyrics that I have stored in my notes app.”

Harry didn’t break any eye contact when you were summarizing your sad life. That created a pit in your stomach because you never experienced anything that could ever compare to Harry’s tense gaze.

Harry never encountered anyone in the span of meeting them baring their skin to him. He couldn’t help, but feel some sort of pride knowing he created a space for Y/N to be able to let your hair down and express herself in full detail. He feels more drawn to you because he knows what you’re feeling. The unknown is a scary thing to feel, but you’re doing that with grace without you even realizing it. Just accepting reality is the biggest thing to acknowledge, and you’re doing just that.

“What do you have on your notes? Could you even help me write my next album.” Harry shrug glances his eyes away from you.

You feel a surge of worries entering her body. You don't know what’s going on, and you don't like it. “What?! You barely know me. My so-called ‘lyrics’ could be shitty and cliche. What are you getting out of this? My humiliation?” You don't like being taken as a joke, but that’s all you could come up with this peculiar interaction. Harry sees a naive little girl.

“You’re pretty,” Harry says. And that’s all he said. He got up and walked out the room. You're left on the couch alone, and not understanding what he just said. Just a few minutes ago he asked for your help, and now just a few seconds ago he said you’re pretty. What kind of fuckery is this?!

You immediately got up and walked to whatever room you could find Harry in. It wasn’t that hard because Harry is in the kitchen.

“Harry! I need you to explain. Talk to me, please.” You say while running her hands down your face. You thanked yourself for not wearing any makeup.

“Uh, you beg. I like that Y/N,” Harry chuckles and closes his fridge door.

“Well…. I do find you attractive and I see a potential in you. I might be wrong or I might be right. There’s nothing wrong with finding out and seeing what you have.” Harry says. Harry isn’t afraid to look people in the eyes, but you sure do. You’re debating if you should take this risk. Harry did say there’s nothing wrong with finding it out.

“Fine. I will take that jump with you.” You say unsurely, but you have some faith in him and a little bit in yourself.

“Good. Now can you stop being tense and enjoy yourself. You’re in fact talking to the one and only Harry Styles.”

“Shut up, doofus.”

One month Later

After Harry made the deal with you a month ago, you guys have been surprisingly working together quite nicely. You guys wrote one complete song, and that song is now called, “Dirty Little Secret.” You can’t wait to hear Harry sing that song with his band because you’re pretty sure it will fit the band theme for his upcoming album. Harry doesn’t want to limit himself, but he does have an idea to make his third album mostly rock.

Harry didn’t expect you to be a fuckin’ genious. Watching you in the corner jotting down lines in your beat up notebook with a pen in your hand made you start feeling someway. You always appreciate the art seeing people enjoy what they do, but Y/N is truly gifted because she has no experience with producing music. One long night two weeks ago you guys were sleep deprived because there was a week where you guys would stay up all night to write and you would stop when you saw the sunrise. Y/N found her love in music because of her father. He was a huge factor that made her who she is today. There was substance in her when she would talk about the accent in a song, how she would bounce that off with the bar while you would play the instruments. Y/N is truly a force to be reckoned with and you couldn’t help but wonder how it would be like to have her on tour with you.

Y/N never felt more alive after her father passed. It’s like Harry woken something inside of her. You never thought you would experiment with music with Harry Styles, the artist for this generation. You’re not going to lie that you would watched all of his interviews and he would talk about when he write songs he has no boundaries, and it’s crazy he upheld that ideology because Harry made sure you know that there’s no right or wrong way, the only way is to play around and see how it goes.

“I’m going to get some water. Do you want some?” You ask Harry dropping your notebook on the coffee table that’s covered in rolled up papers and a lot of take out boxes.

“Yeah. Thanks.” He says. You nod at him, and you got up to grab two cups of ice water for you both.

Your notebook page flipped to a new page and Harry couldn’t help but notice to see “Bubblegum Bitch” written in all caps. Harry got intrigued, so he happily kicked the table so the book could fall, so his excuse could be, “Y/N it fell.”

Harry kicked the coffee table with his big ass feet and the notebook happily splat on the floor. Harry reached for it and started flipping pages to see that title again, and it took him a couple of tries to find it.

“Got a figure like a pin-up, got a figure like a doll

Don't care if you think I'm dumb, I don't care at all

Candy bear, sweetie pie, wanna be adored

I'm the girl you'd die for”

Harry couldn’t help but not try to read all the lyrics. He wants to digest it all, but he knew Y/N could walk in any second. He couldn’t help but make a small gasp when he skimmed to the part of the song that had him falling on his knees

“I'm gonna be your bubblegum bitch.”

“Harry, what are you doing?” Y/N says timidly. On the outside Y/N is calm and cool and collective, but on the inside you’re shaking and screaming. Your songs are attended only to you, not for other eyes to see. You’re still not confident with your writing abilities when it comes to songs for yourself, but knowing your idol probably read more than one line of your song is having you want the ground to swallow you up.

“I’m not going to tiptoe around you and pretend Y/N. Bubblegum Bitch is amazing, fuck maybe fucking brillant Y/N. Shit.” Harry says he looks at you but goes back down to your notebook flipping pages after pages.

You’re stuck where you’re standing. Feeling the condensation of two cups of water you’re currently holding is the only concept you’re able to maintain.

Did Harry say that he likes your songs? Did he say brilliant? You’re not able to speak, all you’re able to do is walk up to the coffee table, drop the cups down and grab your notebook from Harry's grabby hands and collect your belongings. This is too much. You feel too much. You simply can’t right now.

Harry sees you picking up your stuff and shoving your notebook and pens in your purse you bring every time you visit him. Harry couldn’t help, but feel bad that he could possibly make you feel uncomfortable.

Harry stands up and starts walking up to where you are putting the last thing in your bag, “Y/N I’m sorry if me going through your stuff made you angry, but I couldn't help it Y/N. What I read was amazing, you’re amazing.” Harry hurrys out his words because he felt if he didn’t say it fast enough you would vanish.

You’re trying to hold back your tears because it’s getting too much for you. The last time somebody read your stuff was your father, and right now you feel like you’re betraying the intimate moments you had with him. He was the one you would share your songs first with him. Now that he’s gone, you couldn’t put yourself out there to have someone else read it. You turn back around and you try to give a smile to Harry.

“It’s okay, I- I just have to go. I’m sorry. We can talk later.” You push past Harry to make it to the front door, but you feel someone hand on your wrist so you immediately stop.

“Y/N, I can’t have you leave, when I know that you’re not okay. Can you please talk to me? Please?” There’s a hint of sadness in Harry. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave him without having the answer he’s yearning for.

You turn around and there’s Harry. His green eyes are pleading with yours, and you couldn’t help, but do what Harry is asking you to do.

“Okay, I don’t want pity. Okay? Tell me you understand.” You ask Harry because the last thing you want from him is sympathy.

“I promise Y/N. Would you mind if we sit down?” You nod your head and he walks you back with his hand in your hand. You both couldn’t help but feel some sort of palse running inside you both while holding each other's hands. It’s something both of you guys can’t simply forget.

You got to the couch and you both sat down, no longer holding hands. You adjust yourself so you can face him. “Okay. My father died a couple of years ago and he was the only one I let read my stuff first. After he passed I never showed anyone my stuff because it would feel like I’m replacing him. I’m not mad that you read my stuff- I was just surprised, and I couldn’t help it but feel sadness creeping over me. Once again, I’m not angry at you, I’m just adjusting to a new milestone I just crossed without me not realizing it.” You say, and you’re hoping Harry doesn’t say, “Oh I’m sorry” because you’re sorry to.

“Well, I’m not sorry for your loss,” Harry says and you couldn’t help, but smile and laugh. “but I’m not sorry that I read it. You have something Y/N and I know you told me you haven’t had any experience in music industry, but fuck that. You have passion and I feel that every time we write something together in the past month, I don’t think I'll be able to forget about you when the summer is over.” Harry says. There was so much sincerity in what he just said.

You thought it was all one sided because you felt so much being with Harry. You felt you were finally seeing a rainbow you hadn’t seen in a very long time. Harry brings so much out of you that you. Harry was always there when you were scared to take the first step. Him being there with you made it less scary because he was there every step of the way.

Harry didn’t expect he would’ve met someone this summer who would make such an impact on him. Harry thought he would do a lot of hooks up, go to parties and write for the entirety of the summer. But the universe had something planned for him. He met Y/N. He didn’t want to tell Y/N he that he found his first and only love, but he didn’t want to scare her. She could probably feel the same way or she only saw him as a friend but neither of them were ready for that big leap of faith. Even Y/N knew Harry is someone she couldn’t live without because he brings something out of you that you never felt in your entire life and that was courage and faith.

Y/N met her faith. Only time could tell if faith would lead Harry and Y/N the soulmate they both were looking for.

“Harry, I don’t think I could possibly forget about you.” Y/N whisper because you felt if you used your normal voice the bubble you guys created would shatter within seconds.

Faith is a silly thing because faith could have you longing for something that’s impossible to grasp or faith could have you leaving you vulnerable, but that vulnerability could unlock something you never dreamt was even possible.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles concept #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #thismaydestroyme #thismaydestroyme harry styles #harry blurb #harry styles fic rec

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anonymous-southern-armadillo · 3 years

Text

Filip "Chibs" Telford x F! Reader

Warnings/disclaimers: none other then language. And possible grammar.

Buzzing, Loud laughter echoing off the walls, some rock songs playing quietly in the background were the only things filling your ears as you sat on the stool with the elastic blue gloves on. The tat gun buzzing as you finish up the pinup girl tattoo tigs requested.

You knew the sons quite well, Ever since opening up your tattoo shop months ago in charming they seemed to always hang around it for two things only. The discount on new ink, And you. You were damn good with a needle and ink, Your artwork breathtaking, Almost the best in charming. Happy would be relieved of tat duty if you kept blowing their minds with your work, Something they often joked about to irk him, And today was one of those days.

“Damn girl, You know what the fuck you’re doing don’t ya?” Clay praised you whenever he peeked over Tigs shoulder to look at the fresh ink on his calf you just finished.

“No shit, i didn’t come here for ink but im starting to change my mind” Jax walks over to where tigs laid on the chair, Admiring your work.

You let out a small laugh and shake your head at the blonde, “Then what did you come here for?” You mused while wiping away the excess ink so tigs can move and let someone else get a new tattoo.

Tigs chuckles at the bare breast on his new pinup girl tat, Showing the boys with excitement. Jax sits down and takes his shirt off, A beautiful sight indeed but no matter how hard these biker boys flirt with you, Only one caught your eye. Smiling at the mere thought of the certain biker, It was jax’ next words that tore your mind away from him. “Well I came here to see you of course angel” He winks with a smirk, One you rolled your eyes at.

“You can’t flirt with her lad, Yer a taken man” Chibs buts in with a grin, Just the sound of his voice makes your heart leap. “Besides, She deserves to know wha’ it's like bein’ with a real man” The Scotsman fixated his stunning brown eye’s on you, Grin showing his cute dimples you adored. Oh how you’d give anything to just give in to the desire to be with him, Have the privilege of being his, Him yours. But you knew that all the boys enjoyed the company of women, You feared that if you let yourself love him, He’d break your heart.

“That’s why she should hang out with me after work” Juice crossed his arms and wiggles his eyebrows at you, Chibs rolling his eye’s at the man.

“Alright boys stop distracting her, She’s gotta focus on the job at hand” Jax said, soon telling you he wanted tara’ name across his heart, Something they both agreed on getting. You smile and get to work after preparing everything. The boys teasing one another about who you should consider hooking up with. Everyone was talking about the topic except for chibs, Who remained silent throughout the time you worked on Jax.

After you finished and the blonde man seemed pleased, They prepared to leave since tigs and jax only wanted fresh ink. You watched as they pulled on their leather jackets but found a boost of confidence. Standing up you grab the tub of henna and start preparing your tat gun and the dye. “Hey chibs, Come sit down for a moment please” You spoke up, Grasping their attention.

Confused, Chibs walks over to the chair and sits down. Watching you prepare the gun causes even more confusion. “What do ye think you’re doin’ lass?” He asked with a quirked brow. You only smile to yourself as the tat gun buzzes.

“Can you handle getting henna on the top of you’re hand big boy?” your words made the others chuckle and snicker amongst themselves.

“I could get shot in the leg and not even notice it sweetheart” Chibs prides himself on his high pain tolerance. “What the hell you doin’ anyway?” You ignored him, almost giggling when His hand twitched when you grab it and wipe it down with an alcohol wipe, Soon bringing the needle down on the soft flesh of the top of his hand. He watched with an intrigued expression. His brothers all mirroring his look. Once your done, You admire your handy work and put everything away. Chibs looking over the fresh ink with a wide grin.

“Henna isn’t permanent, It fades away in like, 2 weeks, maybe 4?” You tell him as he stands up and admires his new treasure. You walked over to him and placed a hand on his chest, Smiling up at him. “You don’t have to do anything with it, But i wanted you to know that you are the only one who i want” You spoke in a hushed tone, So only he could hear the words meant for him and him alone. Chibs grins and places his newly tattooed hand over yours, His thumb rubbing over your knuckles.

“I’d be ignorant if i let this fade without doin’ anthin’ with it” He told you and lifts your hand up to his lips, Placing a kiss into your palm before walking back over to the boys, Who all stared at him with confusion by the moment you and him shared.

Once outside, Chibs hops on his bike that is parked beside the others. The boys all asked him the same question at once. But clay spoke louder over them all. “C’mon show us what she doodled on you’re hand” Clay smiles while placing his sunglasses on.

Chibs looks around the boys before looking down at the henna. The numbers staining his hand proudly. He never expected you would choose him out of the rest, But here he sat with your phone number on his hand feeling like he was on top of the world. Slipping his gloves on, Chibs shakes his head no. “Aye, wouldn' want you lot seeing somethin’ meant for my eye’s only” he laughs when they all groan in frustration at him. But he knew that if they saw your number, they'd all be calling you. So he kept his henna hidden and couldn’t wait for the end of the day whenever he’d call you.

#chibs x reader #filip chibs telford #Filip chibs Telford x reader #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction

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wavyhairedbabyy · 3 years

Text

Idiots - Part 1

Karl Jacobs x gn!reader

tldr: They’ve both got a crush. Sucks, since they’re the only ones oblivious to it. (Slow Burn!)

CW: some swearing(not at each other), fluffy as a teddy bear.

a/n: I got a random influx of followers ;-; Tysm for enjoying my works and sharing them. I haven’t written in 6 years, in case it wasn’t obvious lmao, so even one is super meaningful to me :) this ended up being way longer than I intended it to be so I’m splitting it into 2 parts.

edited yet: yes - let me know if I missed anything!

Part 1 - Part 2

Y/n and Karl met when Karl was still going to college in New York before dropping things to move to North Carolina. They met the fall of their sophomore year at the campus café when Karl was trying to shoot a piece of paper into a trash can. The problem was he couldn’t aim and it landed right in y/n’s mug of coffee, quickly dissolving into a paper coffee soup. For anyone else it would’ve been okay but being that coffee was y/n’s life line, especially during finals, it most definitely was not.

“You’re buying me another, right?” they asked, “I would highly recommend it or you might see a side of me you don’t want to see.”

Being the good guy he was, and the slight fear of their bad side, he did with no questions.

“So, since there’s a side of you I don’t want to see, and I bought you a new coffee, do I get to see the side of you that I do want to see?”

“Find me next semester and you might.”

And he did.

***

“Karl, if you don’t give me that sword, I’m going to hurt you!” Y/n screamed as they lunged toward him. It was y/n, Karl, and Chris hanging out at Karl’s place until it was time to leave for a Mr. Beast project. They sat in his living room, Karl with a foam sword that y/n was desperate to take from him.

“That’s the problem! If I give it to you, you will hurt me with it!” He yelled back, jumping out of their reach.

“Okay children, why don’t I just take the sword so we can end all of this?” Chris intervened in an attempt to stop the ruckus.

Both of them paused, looking at him in disbelief. They shook their head and in unison scoffed, “No!”

The two continued their play fighting, one holding on to the sword for a short period of time before the other pulled it from their grasp. This went on until it was time to leave the house.

While this was all going down, Chris watched Karl’s behavior. He noticed how he let y/n hold on to the sword a little longer, even when he could’ve easily reached out to grab it from their hands. He noticed how he was much more careful with his movements, almost scared to be too rough with them.

With anyone else, Chris knew Karl’s pride would have taken over in this situation. He thought back to any other time he had any of his SMP friends over. With Nick or Alex, he would have hogged the sword and brutally whacked either of them with it as much as he could. He would happily tacked them and pinned them to the ground. With y/n though... there was a gentleness with them, and Chris did not fail on picking that up.

“Okay lame-os, let’s get on over to the warehouse. Y/n, you coming?” Chris asked.

Y/n shook their head, “Nah. I’m gonna unpack my stuff and relax from the flight. Plus, word on the street says that tomorrow is when the cool stuff is happening so I’ll come then.” they replied.

“Well the street is right, but they’re still a dummy,” Chris looked at Karl for reference.

“Hey...” Karl faked a sad look before staring at y/n for defense.

Y/n giggle and just shrugged, waving goodbye to the both of them, “If you don’t bring me back Burger King fries, don’t bother coming back at all!”

***

Chris and Karl sat in the car, Chris driving and Karl in the passenger seat. With some music on in the background, the two were discussing the plan of action for what was going to be filmed for the day.

“Do you know how long it’s going to take?” Karl asked, “I feel bad leaving y/n by themselves so I want to try to get out as early as humanly possible.”

“I’m not really sure. I’m sure Jimmy wouldn’t mind you scootin’ out a little early,” Chris replied. He took the opportunity and leaned over to his friend, “Speakin�� of y/n, anything going on there? Y’know, anything special?”

“Uhh- whaddya mean special?” Karl haphazardly, “We’re best friends. I think that’s pretty special.”

“No, idiot. I mean is there anything there besides just being best friends,” Chris paused for a second, “I dunno. I just noticed you’re different with them, man. You know you would never treat Nick or Alex the way you treated them.”

Karl paused, trying to think of a response but failing. He sighed, “Yeah, there’s definitely something there on my end. I mean, I’ve been attracted to them since we first met. I just don’t think they reciprocate it.”

“You never know if you don’t try. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“I’d rather not think about it,” Karl sunk into his seat, thinking of all the bad endings that could happen if he told y/n his feelings.

***

Meanwhile this was happening, y/n was making themselves comfortable in Karl’s guest room. They planned on staying for a week and a half which meant packing a month’s worth of clothes. Before starting to unpack their things into the dresser, they FaceTimed their other best friend that was back in New York to keep them company.

“You’re calling me now? Your flight landed 4 hours ago! I was sure you crashed in the middle of the ocean - gone like that Malaysia flight,” y/bff answered.

“Hi to you too,” y/n responded as they started to place their clothes in the closet, “ You are so dramatic. My flight didn’t even go over the ocean. And don’t act like you weren’t tracking my flight. You knew damn well I was fine.”

“All this worrying and caring, and this is how I’m being treated?” Y/bff shook their head as the wiped their fake tears away “The disrespect.”

“Pft, the only disrespect I’m seeing here is the lack of questions about my day,” y/n said, “I had a great flight. I got those yummy blue chips and had a nice drive from the airport in a Tesla.”

Y/bff gasped, “What kind of Uber driver is driving around a Tesla? We need more of those people up here.”

“Dude, it was Karl,” y/n replied, “I was shocked. Last time I saw this kid he was driving a hunk of junk. One year down here and he’s driving around like he’s Elon Musk.”

“Well, I’ll tell you this now. If you don’t cuff him, I will!” Their laugh echoed through the phone

Y/n rolled their eyes, “Oh please, if he doesn’t like me like that then you’re in no good luck.”

“So you told him then?”

“No, not yet,” y/n paused, “I dunno. We’ve been friends for 3, almost 4, years now. If he liked me, he would’ve said something by now. Plus we live so far away from each other now. I just don’t wanna ruin a good thing, y’know?”

“Well, I still say do it. You can tell him and spend your life in peace knowing his answer, or keep it to you yourself and spend the rest of your life wondering ‘what if?’ And I’ll tell you now, the latter always ends with regret. With the first answer, you’ll at least have a chance of a happy ending.”

Y/n shrugged, putting away the last piece of clothing from their luggage, “I know, I know. I’ll think about it. Thanks for the chat, but I’m gonna go relax now before he gets back. I love and miss you already.”

They exchanged their goodbyes and hung up. Y/n flattened their luggage and slid it under the bed. Moving back to the dresser, they found some comfortable clothes to change into after a shower.

Y/n knew y/bff was right. They just couldn’t bring themselves to share their feelings. What if Karl didn’t feel the same way? Would it ruin their friendship? Would this be the last time they ever saw each other? No, y/n knew it wouldn’t end their friendship, but it would make it awkward for a little while. They moved to the bathroom. Maybe a shower would help them compose their thoughts.

***

“I’m back!” Karl shouted as he kicked the door shut behind him. The project took a few hours so the sun had set and nighttime was settling itself in North Carolina. There was no response. Karl continued, “And I have Burger King fries!”

“You should’ve started out with that! Coming!” Y/n yelled from down the hall. Karl rolled his eyes and walked over to the living room table. He started making room for the food when he heard fast footsteps coming toward him.

“Incoming!” Y/n yelled, tackling him to the floor with a hug. They were giggling as if they just pulled the best prank in the world.

“Hi to you too,” he groaned from his body hitting the floor. Y/n continued to chuckle as they got up, grabbing Karl’s hand to help him up too. They sat on the couch, looking at the food in front of them.

“A whole whopper meal? What did I do to get the honors, Mr. Jacobs?” Y/n remarked in a posh accent, popping a fry into their mouth.

“You existed,” Karl giggled out. Y/n smiled, but the butterflies in their stomach couldn’t feign their excitement. It was small shit like that that made y/n fall for Karl. He continued, “Plus I didn’t know if you ate or not so I thought better safer than sorry.”

“Aw, you’re the sweetest,” they gave him a tight hug before returning to the spot they were in on the couch, “So, what’s the plan, Stan?”

“I’m kind of tired from filming, I hope you don’t mind-”

“Actually, I completely mind” y/n replied sarcastically. Karl shook his head at them.

“So, I was thinking we could just watch a movie or watch a show,”

“Ah yes, head empty activities. I’m down. Can we watch a movie though? Not in the mood for a show right now,” y/n replied.

“Sure let’s scroll through and find something,” Karl switched on the TV and the two munched on their food while they decided what they were going to watch. After 20 minutes of scrolling, which really was 20 minutes of fighting over who had better taste in movies, they finally agreed on Wall-E.

Before the movie started, y/n looked over to Karl. Their hands were in the shape of finger guns, pointed to each other and the tips of their index fingers touching. They had a pout on their face when they asked, “Can we cuddle while we watch?”

“No,” Karl shook his head quickly, keeping a stoic, straight face. Y/n’s pout got bigger. He continued, “I absolutely hate physical touch.”

They both immediately broke out into giggles, y/n grabbing the nearest pillow and smacking him with it, “You are so lame.”

Karl continued with his fit of giggle, “The day I say that and mean it is the day hell freezes over.”

As the intro to the movie played, the two came closer, y/n’s legs tangling up with Karl’s. When they finished up their food, they moved closer with Karl’s arm around y/n’s shoulders and their head laying on his chest.

Y/n gave a playful scoff, reminiscing on their past memories together, “This reminds me of the time we had a Disney movie marathon before spring break.”

Karl laughed, “Yeah, and you made my old roommate cry beforehand because he wasn’t doing his dishes all semester.”

“In my defense, I gave him warnings. He didn’t wanna listen and there’s no way I was letting you live in a house with a sink full of fruit flies.”

“I’m not sure if you did that for me or because you practically lived with us.”

“Don’t get it mixed up, pretty boy. That was for you.” Karl smiled at those words, looking down at the person laying on their chest. He wanted to believe there was more than friendship behind those words. The warm feeling he would always get with them filled his chest as he turned his focus back to the movie.

“I really missed you.” He whispered.

“I really missed you too.”

***

Part 2

#karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs x reader fluff #karl jacobs fluff #karl jacobs fanfic #karl jacobs #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x reader

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theright-sideofme · 3 years

Text

Mate. C. San. [Part 2}

Werewolf!San x fem!reader WC: 1.9k Warnings: implied mentions of abuse. let me know if I missed anything.

series masterlist | main masterlist Previous Part | Next Part

“So what are we gonna do with her?” Yunho asked as he looked over at you, who sat patiently in the living room, curiously looking around at the electric room. “We can’t just send her back home, she ran away” San was quick to point out. Hongjoong let out a stressed sigh, looking over you while in deep thought.

San was nervous as he watched his alpha wage a mental war on what to do. Of course he wanted you to stay, you were his mate and having you around would be heaven for him, but he didn’t want you to stay just for his selfish reasons. He was worried about what would happen to you if you were to go back. In the months he would watch you from afar, one of the first things he picked up on was your fathers explosive temper and he would be damned if he sent you back knowing what was waiting for you.

“Your mate, your choice” Hongjoong finally said, looking at San and San only. It had caught him and everyone else off guard, not expecting an answer like that from their alpha. “If you want her to stay then she stays, but she’s your responsibility.” “I’m not a dog” you said in a hushed voice with a pout. The pack quickly turned to you, a sudden realization that you could hear them blatantly talking about you washing over them.

“I didn’t mean it like that” Hongjoong said with an apologetic smile, “I just need San to know he’s responsible for taking care of you while your here- wait that still sounds bad- I-” Hongjoong was cut off by the sound of your angelic laughter. San could feel his heart swell at the beautiful sound, watching as your eyes crinkled with laughter, a beautiful smile taking over your face. After you stopped laughing, you looked at San, a bright smile still on your face as you spoke, “I’m not asking for you to take me in, that’s too much of me to ask of you. I will just go down to the village, and-” “No!” San blurted out, “I mean, it’s not too much, we’d love to have you stay, right boys?” The rest of the pack was quick to nod with reassuring smiles. They knew how much this meant to San, despite not knowing what it was like to have a mate yet, they knew having you close was important to him.

San took a step forward, a small smile on his face as he took your hand. The small action had your heart fluttering and your head swirling. What was with this guy? “Stay, please.” It was a soft spoken request, one of genuine meaning, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to say no.

That was two weeks ago. You had spent two week living with the pack and you had enjoyed every second of it. The boys were very welcoming, San the most so, and they made you feel right at home, more than you had ever felt when you were living with your family. It was a bit odd living with werewolves at first, only knowing what you had been told from ghost stories, and you were quick to learn that everything you did know was false. They boys were very patient with you, answering any questions you had and explaining anything you didn’t understand. One thing that was never brought up though was mates. San knew he should tell you, and the sooner the better. He was just worried about how you would take it, worried about if you would accept the bond or not.

“Hey San” you spoke cheerily as you skipped into the kitchen. “Hey Y/n- whoa, what happened to you” he asked. You were covered head to toe in dirt, your hair practically fit to be a bird's nest, and a small cut on your cheek. San was in front of you in a second, hand on your arms as his eyes scanned you up and down for any more cuts or possible injuries.

“I’m fine” you dismissed, ignoring the way your heart fluttered at how caring he was towards you, swatting him away with a light laugh but it did nothing to ease his worry. “No you're not- hey! Get back here! You need to clean up that cut or it’ll get infected!”

He followed you as you went over to the pantry to look for a good snack, after all the roughhousing you did with the boys, you were whipped. They had asked for a simple race at first, effectively pulling you away from your book. One race turned into three and after the third you insisted they were cheating, using their werewolf powers and what not. Well apparently Wooyoung doesn’t take kindly to being called a cheater, (softly) tackling you to the ground which quickly turned into a group wrestling match, hence your current state.

Before you knew what was happening, you were being pulled away from the pantry, being tossed over San’s shoulder like a rag doll as he carried you out of the kitchen. “Hey-” “go clean yourself up and I’ll make you soup.” You paused your struggle for a moment, soup did sound good. “...What kind of soup” “chicken noodle” “deal.”

San gently placed you down in front of the bathroom door, leaving his hands lingering on you arms for a moment. He allowed himself to admire you in that moment, even in this disheveled state, you were still the most beautiful person he had ever laid eyes on. His intense gaze was met back by your soft eyes staring up at him with absolute adoration. An eruption of butterflies bursting into your stomach as you grew shy under his gaze, something that has never happened to you before, ever.

Quickly advertising your gaze, you rushed into the bathroom as heat rushed to your cheeks. “I’m expecting the best soup Choi” you tried your best to play off your embarrassment. You shut the bathroom door before he got the chance to respond. He stood there dumbfounded with a goofy smile on his face as he realized, he just made you blush. A sense of pride ripped through his chest and an almost childlike giggle left his lips. “Of course Y/l/n” you could hear the smirk on his lip, which only made you groan in embarrassment. What was happening to you?

A few days later, you sat under a tree near the house with a book Yeosang had recommended to you. It was quite good, not something you would’ve picked up on your own but you certainly weren’t able to put it down. It was nice and peaceful under the tree, it was familiar yet so different to when you used to sit under your tree back home. Back then you were trying to escape the hectic world you lived in, now you were simply soaking in peace and enjoying life the way you were meant to. It was nice to have a truly relaxing moment, not feeling like you had to always look over your shoulder to make sure you were alone.

San stood, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you with a smile. It was nice for him to see you so relaxed, and his heart swelled knowing you felt so at peace at his home- well it was technically your home too now. Just another reason for San’s heart to fill with joy. God how he loved you, he just wished he could tell you… What was that?

San’s thoughts were cut off when a chorus of barking sounded through the forest. Hounds. His eyes widened at the realization, rushing to get you into the house. “San- what’s happening, is everything okay?” You asked as San carefully pulled you up, pulling you hastily into the house. San didn’t respond, too wrapped up in his own head to hear you right now. His only thought was keeping you safe.

“San'' You called out again, stopping as you two reached the living room, forcing San to stop too. That’s when he snapped out of it, turning to you with the best reassuring smile he could muster up, but you could tell something was wrong.

“What’s wrong?” San let out a shaky breath, looking into your eyes just to calm himself down. “I heard hounds…” Hounds? Oh no. Your face soon morphed into one much similar to San’s when he had first heard the noise, eyes wide and fearful, mouth parting in shock. “O-okay, what do we do? '' You asked despite your fear, trying your hardest not to freak out, that was the last thing either of you needed right now. Before San could answer Yunho and Yeosang busted through the door, looking around frantically before their eyes landed on you. “You need to hide, the hounds-” “We know Sang. Did you ever fix the ladder to the attic? '' Yeosang nodded quickly, taking that as his cue to lead the both of you upstairs.

“Just up here” Yunho said as he pulled the hatch and stairs down, leading you forward. You looked back at San for a second and he felt himself wanting to pull you into his chest at that very moment. Your eyes full of fear, your shaky hands holding on to the ladder as you looked to him for comfort, for reassurance that everything would be okay. It hurt when the only thing he could do was give you a smile and nod. Strangely, you felt as though it wasn’t enough, wanting him to come with you and hold you until everything quieted back down. Despite that, you turned back around, crawling up into the attic with a terrible feeling in your chest.

“What do we do now?” Yunho asked after shutting the hatch to the attic, keeping his voice low so that you couldn’t hear. “We go warn the other, and be ready for when they get here” San said, his eyes not moving from the hatch where you just disappeared. “We- we won’t have to fight right?” “Hopefully not…”

After they had warned the others, Hongjoong was quick to come up with a plan in true alpha fashion. Everyone was to stay inside and just go about their business. If the hounds did end up at their place (which was highly likely) Hongjoong would talk to whoever was in charge and try his best to defuse the situation. Violence was the last resort, it always was and Hongjoong made sure everyone knew that.

San physically could not sit still while they waited. All he could think about was you up in the attic all alone. All he wanted was to be up there with you, but if something bad were to happen, he needed to be down here, with his pack.

The hounds were now right outside, many scratching at the door to get in. The room stank of anxiety and it was evident on everyone's face. San nearly jumped out of his skin when the distinct, loud knocks came from the door. “Don’t worry” was all Hongjoong said before nonchalantly opening the door.

“Sir Wang” Hongjoong greeted the fancily dressed guard almost as if greeting an old friend. “Hongjoong, it’s been awhile” “that it has. May I ask why you brought a barrage of hounds to my home? Did we do something wrong?” “Well you tell me. We’re looking for Lord Y/l/n’s daughter, Lady Y/n. You wouldn’t happen to know where she is, would you?”

taglist: @itsyaapollochild @sunsethw4

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epicstuckyficrecs · 3 years

Text

Weekly Recap | March 29 - April 4 2021

This week, I started my Epic Stucky Fic Download of 2021 (I'm somewhere in 2015 at the moment, 2014 and before are done), which means I re-read some oldies... I hope you enjoy!

Complete

Heaven and Hell were words to me by this_wayward_life (Post-Endgame, PWP, BDSM | 3K | Explicit): Bucky usually prides himself in being a relatively observant person. He was back in Brooklyn when he and Steve were cramped together in that tiny one-bedroom apartment, he was during his time as the Asset, and he was during that strange period between his defection from Hydra and Steve finding him. So, he's more than a little surprised when Steve manages to keep a secret from him. So it comes as a bit of a shock when Bucky comes home one day after a mission for Steve to take his hands and whisper that he's got a surprise for him. (Part 3 of No grave can hold my body down)

💙 Diving In The Deep End by musette22/ @musette22 (Evanstan RPF | 19K | Explicit): Scarlett raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “You’re telling me that you never once in your entire life, not even during theater school, locked lips with another guy?”

💙 you know I'd quench that thirst by napricot (Canon, Bucky/Steve/Peggy | 38K | Explicit): Steve Rogers is very much not a virgin. Not before the serum, and sure as hell not after it, when the serum ramps up his libido along with everything else. Too bad everyone thinks Captain America is a sexless historical symbol. Or: the tragicomic sexual odyssey of Steve Rogers, and how it begins, and then much later ends, with Bucky Barnes.

i got it bad for you by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3 (Evanstan RPF, PWP, Daddy kink | 4K | Explicit): “Yeah? Older?” “Yeah yeah, just…I don’t know, the beard? This fucking hair? Just…I don’t know— older,” he manages to chuckle nervously, gasping into Chris’ mouth when their squirming leads their dicks into lining up beautifully. Seb aches, yearns, mouth watering as he mewls, both hands in Chris’ hair as he licks into Sebastian’s mouth. And then Chris pulls back, breathes hot on Sebastian’s cheek, his bottom lip, croons, “Like your Daddy?”

💙 The Wedding Planner(’s Assistant) by crinklefries/ @spacerenegades (Shrinkyclinks | 40K | Teen): Bucky Barnes is in a bit of a conundrum. For example, on the one hand, he’s the former extremely polished, brutally efficient, and impressively ruthless brainwashed weapon of mass murder for the secret Nazi arm of the United States government. On the other hand, he has an uncontrollable crush on the cute blond wedding planner who lives next door.

Accidental husbands... by darter_blue/ @darter-blue (Shrunkyclunks, Accidental Marriage | 2K | Mature): Or the one where Bucky finds himself accidentally married to a superhero. And he definitely isn't mad about it.

WIP

💙 and the river flows beneath your skin by Deisderium/ @deisderium (Boarding School AU, Soulmates | 9/? | 70K | Mature): In which Steve and Bucky are forced to room together their senior year at boarding school, and accidentally soul bond to each other even though they kind of hate each other. All they have to do to get out of it is not kiss each other for a year so the accidental bond will fade. How hard could it be?

Re-Read

💙 (760): I literally cut myself out of my pants. Waste. Of. Money. by relenafanel/ @relenafanel (Modern AU | 6K | Mature): Hey friend of Sam’s can I get an opinion on this outfit? Bucky texted, attaching the selfie taken in Sam’s bathroom mirror. He received an answer almost immediately. Bucky was almost expecting a lecture, or at least a concerned question about who had stolen Sam’s phone. He got neither. Or: Bucky strikes up a flirtation with a stranger over text message in the month leading up to Valentine's Day.

💙 Bucky Barnes and his Big Beefy Blonde by Kellyscams/ @thebestpersonherelovesbucky (Shrunkyclunks, PWP | 6K | Explicit): Bucky Barnes loves Big, Beefy, Blondes. What he loves most about Big, Beefy, Blondes is having no string attached sex with them. Until he meets a Big, Beefy, Blonde that just happens to be Steve Rogers -- Captain America who's only been declared alive a few months ago. This is one that could go down as Bucky's fuck of a lifetime. That's if he can avoid these pesky feelings that start showing up out of nowhere.

💙 Bucky Barnes and his Big Beefy Blonde Part 2 by Kellyscams/ @thebestpersonherelovesbucky (Shrunkyclunks, Strangers to Lovers | 16K | Explicit): Bucky Barnes once spent eight glorious, sex-filled days with the Big, Beefy, Blonde fuck of a lifetime -- the recently defrosted Steve "Captain America" Rogers. Three months later, things aren't exactly the way Bucky imagined they'd be. This Big, Beefy, Blonde, really may have changed him forever.

💙 Series: You Make Me Feel Like I Am Home Again by Taste_is_Sweet/ @taste-is-sweet (Canon, Post-Winter Soldier | 19 works | 127K | Teen): Connected stories about Bucky and Steve: the world's most adorable relics.

if ye be worthy by hitlikehammers (Post-AOU | 2K | Teen): “Do you know what that is?” Bruce asks, voice low, but that’s not really new, for him. “It’s Thor’s hammer-thingy,” Bucky shrugs. “Look, man, I know it was shitty to give it a swing without him knowing, I’m sor—” “You swung it?”

💙 For Words to Say it Right by Squeaky, Taste_is_Sweet/ @taste-is-sweet (Modern AU, Soulmates | 25K | Teen): Turns out when you're missing an arm, everyone asks are you okay? all the damn time. And when your soulmark is one of the most common questions in English, it's even worse. Generic soulmarks are a bitch.

💙 Just Hold Me by shanology/ @shanology (Post-Winter Soldier | 10K | Explicit): Bucky Barnes is living in Avengers Tower, and all he wants in the world is to be cuddled. He sets out to get his new friends to give him the snuggling he needs, because it's not something he can ask of Steve yet. Steve doesn't see it in quite the same way. Also, there are Avengers movie nights, possibly with a showing of The Covenant. Just saying.

💙 Imprint by hetrez (Post-Avengers | 7K | General): "The next day, Steve and the other Avengers are just settling into a meeting on the flight deck when there's a muffled yell, and Alvarez falls out of the ceiling." -- Or, Steve builds a training program, a team, and new life for himself. (Part 1 of Make Way For Ducklings)

💙 Awakenings by hetrez (Canon divergent - Winter Soldier | 19K | Explicit): Bucky says, "Do you know, after you leave -- every time you leave, after the doctors have taken my mask off, I walk around this place and try to find everywhere you've been. Was your hand on the toaster? Did you lean against the doorway? Where were you on the couch? I haven't seen your face in seventy-five years, not really." (Part 2 of Make Way For Ducklings)

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #stucky fic rec #Weekly Recap

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beelzegrub · 3 years

Note

can I request what would happen if we summon them while we're on human realm bc we missed them so much but lose so much blood in the process I don't really know I'm a sucker for these kind of things. thank youu!!

EDIT FROM FUTURE OP: This ask has been sitting in my drafts for months half finished and I finally found the motivation to finish. Anon, I’m so sorry for the wait. You’re a sweetheart ❤️ I was only able to do the three eldest though and I’m so sorry!!

Um hello??? I love this so much thank you!!! I thought it was kind of silly to go through all of that at the end of season 2 to just.... not use it so I’m excited about this!!!! (Sorry if this is too angsty my brain got super pumped about this and took off.

PS the request said “we” so I used a reader insert type of style. Hope that’s what you were looking for :)

MC Summons Their Demon, but at What cost?

Trigger warning!!!! Self harm/blood

How long had it been since you’d seen the him? Weeks? Months? Who knows. They all blended together after while. All you knew is that it had been too long. Why was this all so tedious? Solomon had promised to teach you the summoning ritual as soon as you could handle it. Why hadn’t he done so? Did he not trust you? Was he purposely keeping you away from the them? Surely you were strong enough at this point. Enough with the waiting. You wouldn’t sit around and any longer! You needed to see them. You needed to see him.

You flipped messily through book after book. Solomon had given you many to study for your apprenticeship. There had to be something about summoning in one of these!

“Hmm..”

You carefully read through the worn pages of one of the larger and dustier tomes. Something about this one called to you. You zoned out as you took in the information on the pages, following context clues until you found what you were looking for. The images drawn on the page seemed foreign and surprised you. A summoning circle? You had expected as much, but the repeated mentions of ‘sacrifice’ and ‘blood oath’ seemed ancient and outdated. You couldn’t help but notice there was no mention of sentimental possessions of the demon you were trying to summon as well. You were sure none of the brothers would suggest a summoning if it were dangerous though...

Out of options and out of patience, you gathered your courage and set up the ritual to the best of your ability. Things seemed to match the books instructions, at least. All that was left was the blood. You stepped into the middle of the circle and closed brought a sewing needle to the top of your finger. The book hadn’t specified the amount of blood needed, but it was better to start small, you reasoned. You closed your eyes and pricked it, quickly squeezing a single drop of blood into the center of the circle, and said the name of the person you had been desperate to see.

Lucifer

The day of the summoning, Lucifer had felt this nagging sense of danger from the moment he opened his eyes. He was so sure it was one of his brothers about to cause trouble for him once again.

Lucifer spent the day preparing for the worst. Had Mammon stolen something of vast importance? Did Levi buy another piece of cursed media? Surely Beel hadn’t eaten a poisonous dish??

That evening, tired from being on edge all day, he had retired to his study, hoping some music would help calm his nerves. He settled into his chair and closed his eyes.

Then came the pull.

It had been ages since he had felt a sensation like this. When was the last time someone had tried to summon him? Hundreds of years ago, it had to be. And it never felt as strong as this force pulling him now.

There had once been a cult of devil worshipers who sacrificed many of their members for a chance to pull him to the human world, quite surprised to find out their sacrifices had been in vain, considering Lucifer wasn’t interested in a bunch of worthless humans. But even then the tug hadn’t been this strong. Sure, he could still resist it, but the strength of it still left him awestruck. Who had the power to call to him like this?

“Lucifer!”

His blood ran cold. Immediately, he stopped resisting the call and gave in, allowing the summoning to take place.

You had done it. Lucifer was here! The strongest and most fearsome of the seven, and you had Summoned him to you. Your heart swelled when you though of how impressed he’d be when he found out you had done it all on your own. Would he praise you? Would he tease you? Would he tilt his head and smirk, then ask you if you had really missed him that much?

You smiled softly, looking up at him. The look on his face wasn’t one of pride. His eyebrows had furrowed and a frown creased deep into his face. Was he angry at you? No... you had seen his anger many times. This wasn’t it.

“MC....what have you done?”

He cradled you softly in his arms. Wait. When had he picked you up? You looked at your surroundings, the fear in the pit of your stomach ever growing. Where had all this blood come from? You had only pricked your finger! Lucifer’s hand touched your cheek, pulling your face back to him.

“Don’t look.”

You had no choice but to obey. You simply didn’t have the strength to move anymore.

“I’ve called for help, it’ll be just a moment, MC. Just keep your eyes on me.”

Lucifer’s voice was soft and soothing, and you felt your tired body relax into his hold.

“I did it... I brought you here... I did it...” you closed your eyes, a smile on your lips.

“MC, keep your eyes open. Look at me. MC! MC!”

Mammon

That day had started out much the same as always. Mammon, still sore from last nights punishment, groaned as he slumped into his desk at RAD. He rested his head in his arms against the desk, and glanced at the seat that used to belong to you. Obviously, you weren’t there, but it didn’t hurt to check....

“MC is still in the human world, Mammon.”

Mammon jumped and sat up straight in his seat, his cheeks red from being caught.

“I know that Belphie! I was just-just uh zonin’ out! MC’s old seat just happened to be in the same direction!” He stuttered out an excuse.

“Just call them, Mammon. I’m sure MC would be happy to hear your voice.” Oh great, now Beel’s getting involved too. He knew his brothers meant no harm, but all this talk about MC was getting him riled up!

“Fine! I will! I’ll call MC tonight! and you two AREN’T invited!” Mammon laid his head down once again, this time hiding his face, not wanting his blush to show a second time. Tonight he’d finally hear MC’s voice again. And he could blame Beel and Belphie for the call!

Come dinner time, Mammon had just about run out of patience. His head kept telling him to wait just a bit longer, but something in his heart was yelling for him to quit dragging his feet.

“I’m going to my room and NOBODY better interrupt me, ya hear?!” Mammon stumbled to his feet and started marching to his room, six pairs of eyes staring at him questioningly. He only made it a few steps when he felt it. A tug. He closed his eyes and swayed on his feet, dizzy from the force of it. This was a summoning, wasn’t it? He had felt it plenty of times from those damn witches, but something about this was different. He turned around to look his brothers again, a look of confusion on his face.

“I...think I’m bein’ summoned.”

Levi snorted and crossed his arms. “I’m sure you’re guilty of something. Better just get it over with.”

The rest of the brothers mumbled in agreement.

Except Lucifer.

Lucifer quickly pushed out his chair and hurried to Mammon. Something was wrong. A simple summoning wouldn’t have this effect on a demon of Mammon’s stature.

The pull came once again, stronger this time. Mammon winced and held his hand to his aching head. Lucifer’s hand came down to rest on his shoulder

“I don’t know how long I can resist this. Somethin’ isn’t right. Lucifer, what’s happening to me?” He looked to his brother for help, and found the rest of them had gathered around as well, a look of concern on all of their faces.

“Someone call for Diavolo and Barbatos. Mammon, hold on just a few more moments.” Lucifer commanded.

Mammon would have agreed, if not for the voice that rang out clearly in his head, calling his name.

“Mammon!”

Mammon’s eyes snapped open and stopped resisting the pull, hearing the shouts from his brothers disappear as he followed the call.

“Mammon! Mammon! Mammon Mammon Mammon! Please!” You couldn’t keep this up for much longer, you knew it. You had fallen to your knees moments after the initial call. You could feel every drop of blood flowing out of the pin prick on your finger, but you didn’t dare give up. You had come this far, and you wouldn’t give up now. Not until you had to.

But you didn’t have to. A flash of light blinded you momentarily, and when you could see again, there he was. Standing there was the Mammon. Relief flushed through your entire body, and you stopped pouring your magic into the spell. Utterly exhausted, your body came crashing forward, landing in front of his feet.

Mammon quickly slid to his knees on the ground, picking you up off the floor and resting your head in his lap.

“You....Are you okay, MC?” Mammon tried to keep his voice even and steady, not wanting to scare you, but his hands that held too tightly and his body that quivered gave him away.

“I am now.” You answered quietly, unsure if it was true. At least Mammon was here and holding you in his arms. Things would be okay as long as he was with you.

“You...You idiot! Stupid! What the heck were ya thinkin’!? Can’t you see how much blood you’ve lost? This isn’t how you’re supposed to be summoning us! I’m gonna kill that damn sorcerer!” Mammon felt his blood boil with each second that passed. How Could Solomon have allowed this?

You softly squeezed his hand, not having the energy to yell for his attention. Immediately, he stopped, looking at you questioningly.

“Solomon didn’t teach me this. He wouldn’t. But.... I just couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to see you.” You answered.

He frowned deeply, more troubled with this answer. You had done all this just to see him? He felt a lump in his throat form. “I would have come to you. You didn’t have to do this.” He pressed his forehead to yours, closing his eyes to stop any tears from escaping.

You cupped his cheek, returning the affection he so rarely showed. “S’okay. All that matters is you’re here now. I just...need....to rest....a little...” Your eyes fluttered closed, feeling at peace and calm in your love’s arms.

Panic. Once again, Mammon’s eyes snapped open. He placed his hand over yours, trying to gently coax you into opening your eyes once more.

“Not yet, you can’t yet, MC. We have to wait for help to come. Come on, wake up.” He knew his brothers would come. Someone would come. They wouldn’t let this happen to you. He wouldn’t let this happen to you. “MC!” When gentle touches didn’t work, he got rougher, shaking you and yelling, desperate to see your eyes open.

“Enough playin’ around MC! Wake up! WAKE UP, DAMMIT! Wake... Wake up...You have to..... Wake up....”

Leviathan

To say that Levi was missing his MC was like saying humans like air. Is it true? Yeah, but kind of an understatement. Humans needed air to live and breathe, and in his eyes, you were air. It’s no secret that Levi wasn’t exactly popular. One might even say it was well known that he was a dorky loner demon, if they were feeling particularly sassy. Being a loner has it’s advantages, like having more time for gaming and anime binging, but it sure is, well, a lonely once you’ve had someone to share your passions with. And once that someone is gone, their absence weighs heavy.

So yes, Levi was missing MC. So what? Everyone was missing MC. Why wouldn’t they? His MC was a ray of sunshine in a world of darkness. Ugh. That line sounder way cooler when the hero in his latest otome had said it. Of course his thoughts couldn’t sound that cool. But that’s not the point! Levi figured he had no right to complain about MC being gone, because he was just a gross, annoying, worthless otaku. He didn’t deserve to miss them. He was lucky he got to spend as much time with them as he did, really.

But nobody could blame him for thinking these thoughts, right? Thinking about how much he missed the way MC would cram themselves as close to him as possible to get a look at whatever mobile game he was playing was harmless. So was remembering all the nights they’d spent binging anime and then realizing the sun was up, smiling sheepishly at each other and promising not to stay up so late next time, even though they always did. Okay, so maybe thinking about the way they looked when they were fresh out of his shower, smelling of his soap and shampoo was less than innocent, but what was he supposed to do!? Leaning your damp head on his shoulder and curling up close to him like that! Doing things like that is bad for an otaku’s heart! You might give them hope or something...

Enough was enough! He didn’t have time to be obsessing over how much he missed MC. It was taking time away from his one and only true love. “Ruri-Chan, you’d never abandon me right? No, I know you wouldn’t. You’re not like that.” Levi began speaking to his latest figure. “Not to say MC IS like that! No, of course their not! They didn’t have a choice!” He stuttered out a quick fix to his hurtful words. He was glad they weren’t around to hear, but it still felt wrong to say. He was quiet for a minute, staring at his floor in shame. Slowly, he lifted his eyes back to the figure. “Do you think they miss me like I miss them?”

And then he felt it. It had been so long, but he knew this feeling.This was a summoning, wasn’t it?! Based on the intense tug he felt, it had to be a super powerful sorcerer or maybe a group of basic magic users? Honestly, he was flattered. Someone wanted to summon HIM? No, They must have made a mistake. Surely this summon was meant for one of his brothers.

Leviathan was so lost in his own self pity he missed the first two calls of his name. The third one, sounding so desperate and pleading, snapped him out of his funk in an instant. He knew that voice. Without hesitation he let the summon take him, and there he was. He was finally reunited with MC.

But it wasn’t supposed to be like this. When he finally saw them again, he was supposed to feel elated and whole again, not like a piece of his heart was ripped right out of his chest. But when he locked eyes with them, surrounded by blood and their eyes looking glassy, that’s exactly what he felt.

“MC! Oh no. Oh no.”

Levi. He was here. He had to be. You heard his voice and felt his presence, felt his arms circle around you and cradle you tightly against his chest. But why couldn’t you see him? And why did you feel so… empty?

“Levi? That’s you isn’t it? Why is it so dark?” Had the candles all gone out? No, even before you lit them, you remember it hadn’t been this dark. Something was wrong.

Levi inhaled shakily, holding back the sobs he desperately wanted to release. “MC, what are you talking about? I’m right here! Can’t you see me?”

Like a bolt of lighting, the realization hit you. It wasn’t dark. The candles hadn’t gone out. It was your eyes.

“No, Levi. I can’t. I can’t see you. I can’t see anything.” You shakily reach your hand up, frantically feeling around for your love’s face. Leviathan’s usual timid nature word have normally had him reeling away, but in this moment, he had no reservations as he helped guide your hand to his cheek. His lips trembled as he fought the urge to scream.

“MC…. Why would you do this? You’ve lost so much blood… and.. and your sight? I’m not worth this. I’m just a useless otaku! It isn’t fair!” His tears began to flow, the guilt of it all was ripping him apart.

You closed your eyes and smiled as you remembered the many faces of this man you had called to you. “It was worth it. I did it because I love you, Levi. I need you. After all, what good is a Henry without his lord?”

#obey me #shall we date? obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mc #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #reader insert #tw self harm #tw sewing needle prick #tw blood #this was way to long winded I overdid it

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the-chicken-or-the-banana · 3 years

Note

Hi! There's a headcannon that has been circulating that I never saw fully written, and I love how you characterize the foxes! Basically, Andrew living the setbacks of being short (either privately or publicly), getting frustrated, and Neil comforting him

THIS IS SO FUNNY SKDJFHK also i have always wanted to write a 5+1 so tyvm for this (again, this ended up so goddamn long but. what else is new.)

read "shortcomings (honestly, fuck you tilda)" on ao3 hereeeee

———

Andrew gripped the edges of the counter. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Eye on the prize.

He squinted at the offensively orange mixing bowl that Kevin had placed far too high on the shelf earlier that day. He had planned on baking cookies (for no reason other than that he was bored), and that bowl was his lucky one: every baked good he made using it always rose perfectly.

Andrew had tried everything — stretching as far as he could, trying to move things with his mind, even going as far as going on his toes (after a cursory glance that no one was around).

He eyed the step-stool on the other side of the kitchen. He could always use that and put it back and no one would be the wiser. But no. Andrew was a fully capable adult with a reputation to uphold and he would get that bowl down by himself, dammit.

Andrew had been through hell and back, and then some. He would not be bested by cabinetry.

He rubbed his hands against his shirt before placing them back on the counter and took a running crouch. Andrew bounced lightly on his toes, mentally counted to three, and leapt up, hand reaching forward to grip at the bowl.

For one glorious moment, it really seemed like it would work.

Then the counter whacked Andrew in the gut, he smacked his head against the cabinet, and he slowly slid down to the floor, no bowl in hand.

Hmm. That wasn't supposed to happen.

He jerked his head up to glare at the stupid bowl and promptly felt extremely dizzy, slipping even further until he was collapsed entirely on the floor, limbs splayed.

That wasn't supposed to happen either.

Oh well. If he couldn't ruin his health with cookies, he might as well do it by laying on the most unhygienic piece of property he had ever seen. He supposed this was an acceptable way to go.

Andrew lay there on the dorm floor for a solid 15 minutes, willing the bowl to come down, until he heard the dorm room unlock and the sound of Neil's quiet humming filled the room. He didn't have the energy to get up though, so he flopped his legs around as Neil passed the kitchen to catch his attention.

"Oh, hey Drew," Neil shuffled further into the dorm after giving Andrew a quick glance and smile. A few seconds later, the humming stopped and Andrew saw the outline of Neil's body slowly move back into the kitchen doorway. "Um. Can I ask why you're starfished on the floor?"

Andrew sluggishly pointed upwards. "Bowl. High. Jumped. Fell."

Neil nodded knowingly. Andrew stared at him purposefully. Neil blinked.

Idiot.

"Get it for me," Andrew scowled with a well-aimed kick at Neil's ankles. Neil's eyes widened before filling with mirth. He walked forward and sat down next to Andrew's side, running a hand through his blond hair. Andrew hated himself for leaning into the touch.

"Aww, what's wrong?" Neil cooed. "Can't reach it?"

What a fucking asshole.

Andrew shot Neil a glare — he could admit that it probably wasn't super effective considering that he was on the floor with his not-boyfriend carding his fingers through his hair, but it was the thought that counted, okay! — and Neil gave him an amused look before pushing himself off the ground.

He shuffled around Andrew's limp body before giving an exasperated sigh.

"Andrew."

"Junkie."

"There is a stepstool right here."

"Yes."

"You didn't use it."

"No."

"... Why?"

Andrew shrugged in response.

He heard Neil grumbling under his breath and, a few seconds later, was rewarded with Neil's gross socks in front of his face as he went on the tips of his toes to grab at the bowl. Andrew glanced up and noticed that Neil's shorts were delightfully loose around his thighs.

Nice.

He indulged himself in the view until Neil dropped back down on the balls of his feet, holding the bowl proudly.

"Got it!" he grinned down at Andrew and flopped back down on the floor, pulling Andrew into a sitting position. Neil pressed up against him after a quick 'yes or no?' and handed over the bowl so Andrew.

"That was not fair," Andrew grumbled after a few minutes of calm silence. "You did that so easily. You're barely taller than me."

Neil nudged his shoulder and planted a kiss to the side of his head. "It's okay," he gave an annoyingly soft look. "I'll always be there to help you, whenever you need it."

Andrew huffed. "I did not ask for sentimentality, Josten. Just a bowl."

Irritatingly, this caused Neil to laugh a bit. "Okay, okay, I'll leave you with your precious bowl." He moved to get up and pressed a chaste kiss to Andrew's lips. "But for what it's worth, I think your size is perfect."

He left Andrew missing the warmth of Neil's body beside him before his brain caught up to what Neil just said.

"Josten. Josten! Was that a fucking dick joke?"

There were moments where Andrew desperately wanted to burn Neil's clothing. He understood that they were remnants of past habits that were hard to break, but surely having this many gray and brown shirts had to be criminal.

Andrew refused to be seen kissing such a heathen in public but he really only knew how to put Neil in hot club clothes rather than hot casual clothes. And so, for the sake of humanity (and his dignity), he swallowed his pride and met up with Allison Fucking Reynolds.

Their plan to snatch up Neil from the Exy court to take him shopping at the mall appeared to be going well. So far, they'd bought him some shirts, artfully ripped jeans, denim jackets, and an actually functional pair of shoes. Neil, for all his stamina, looked like he was about to collapse from the weight of the bags, so Allison and Andrew took pity on him and decided to take a lunch break.

The three of them reached the food court and made their way to a noodle shop (after Andrew extracted a promise that he could get some ice cream afterwards). He and Allison sat Neil down on a bench to guard their massive pile of bags before going up to order.

By the time they were at the front of the line, Andrew was fully prepared to stab Reynolds in the middle of the mall. In a span of five minutes, she had managed to ask him about his and Neil's sex life, when they got together, what Neil's exact sexuality was, and had Andrew ever painted his nails?

He resolutely refused to answer any of those questions, on the principle that she didn't need more money from bets than she already had.

They ordered quickly, Andrew eager to get away from Reynolds, when the cashier said something that made him stop in his tracks.

"We actually have a discount right now for kids under 12!" she said smiling. "Is that something you'd be interested in?"

Andrew squinted. Why the hell would they—

Oh. Oh no, no, no.

Allison seemed to come to the same realization that he did, because she smiled wide and tapped her nails against the counter.

"Oh, that's just perfect!" she exclaimed. "Aaron here just turned 11 a few months ago. We'll take the discount."

Aaron?!

Andrew was going to kill her.

He was still planning bloody murder as Reynolds brought their tray of food to the table. He sat down with a scowl, and though Neil shot him a curious glance, he didn't push it.

Stupid considerate junkie.

Andrew muttered a percentage under his breath and proceeded to poke Neil in the cheek with his chopsticks. After a few moments of this, Neil turned to him with a scowl.

"Andrew," he grumbled. "What are you doing?"

Andrew glared at Reynolds.

Neil gave a resigned sigh and turned to her. "Allison. What happened?"

Reynolds smirked. "Oh, nothing much. Just that the cashier thought that your boy was a literal child and gave us a discount for kids 12 and under. I told her that it was great because Aaron over there," she jabbed a finger towards Andrew. "just turned 11."

Neil looked like he was biting back a laugh but then frowned. "Okay, but arms."

"True," Reynolds conceded. "However, consider this: tiny."

The two idiots nodded like they'd figured out some indispensable secret of the universe.

Frustrated, Andrew went back to poking Neil's face; when he finally glanced back, Andrew nudged his arms and shuffled a bit closer. Thankfully, Neil actually got the hint for once and scraped featherlight fingers into Andrew's hair.

"It's okay," Neil tried. "I mean, at the end of the day, all of us are just broke college kids—"

"I'm not," Allison interrupted.

Neil rolled his stupid, pretty eyes. "Okay, most of us are broke college kids—"

"Don't you have a bunch of mafia blood money and stuff?" Reynolds asked.

"Beside the point," Neil huffed. "Fine, Andrew, you are a broke college kid—" "Gee, thanks." "— and so you should be grateful that your height is saving you some money."

"That is dumb."

"You're dumb."

"How creative."

Neil scowled and tugged on Andrew's hair. "Shut up. Drama queen."

Andrew stabbed a piece of stir fry into Neil's mouth to close that damn mouth and resolutely ignored the click of Allison's phone camera.

This was proving to be a problem.

Andrew stared at his $150 jeans, the bottom of the legs frayed and pale. He had just bought these two weeks ago. What a waste of money.

There really was only one thing left to do.

Minutes later, Andrew slammed open the door to his brother's dorm and dragged him out with Aaron demanding to know where they were going. By the time he had wrestled his idiot doppelganger to the car, Andrew was reaching. his. fucking. limit.

"Andrew, if you don't tell me where we're going, I swear I'll bite you. I'll push Neil off a treadmill and dump a bucket of mud on him. I'll throw all your ice cream in the trash. I'll—"

That last one was simply too far. He'd have to give Aaron some ground.

"Get in, loser," Andrew glared. "We're going shopping."

Thankfully, he managed to keep Aaron quiet until they reached the mall by letting him pick the music (it was country! Southern heathen). What a child.

Rich coming from you, a voice told him snidely. You can't even buy clothes for yourself properly.

Shut up, he scolded himself.

"Andrew," Aaron sighed exasperatedly when they reached the parking lot. "Can you finally tell me what we're shopping for?"

They got out of the car and Andrew raised an eyebrow as he faced Aaron. "Sex toys."

"WHAT THE FU— "

Andrew watched his brother's face turn red as he sputtered, before noticing the amusement in his face.

Aaron deflated. "Asshole," he grumped.

"Yeah, that is generally where the dildo goes."

"Shut up. I'm begging you."

Andrew decided to take pity on him and stabbed a finger towards Aaron's legs. "When did you buy those."

Aaron squinted. "My jeans?" At Andrew's nod, he looked confused. "Uh, like three or four months ago maybe. Why?"

Three or four months?! That was simply unacceptable.

"They are still in good quality," Andrew said slowly.

"...Yes?" Aaron looked lost for a few moments before his face brightened with pure, evil glee. Andrew hated the world more in that moment than he ever had before. "Oh my God. Oh my God. Are your jeans too long for you?"

"Be quiet," he snapped. "You just need to show me where you buy yours and never mention this to anyone or I'll stab you."

Aaron didn't seem as concerned as he should have been. "I don't need to do anything, dumbass. Why don't you just cuff them like me?"

"I refuse to look like a bisexual disaster."

"Hey," Aaron looked mildly offended. "That's not a bisexual thing. Right?" At Andrew's blank look, his eyes widened. "No. Oh shit. Is that why guys keep hitting on me at Eden's?"

Andrew actually blinked at that. He had not realized that his brother was really that stupid. "Aaron. Eden's is a gay bar. Obviously men will hit on you."

"Wait, it's a what— "

"Be quiet. You are coming with me now." He dragged his brother to the mall entrance as Aaron bumbled along behind him, swearing incoherently.

They weaved their way through what seemed like a million stores until Andrew walked out hours later, finally satisfied with his new haul of jeans that Aaron had oh-so-considerately helped to pick out, a few hundred dollars poorer, and two churros and an iced coffee fuller.

Andrew trudged up the stairs to his floor (perhaps this was a workout he should regularly implement in his exercise regime) while Aaron split off to find some study group or other.

By the time he reached his dorm, Andrew felt far more exhausted than the situation warranted and he blindly chucked the bags on the sofa, belatedly realizing that Neil was already sitting where the bags would land. Oops.

He sat down by Neil like the throw was entirely intentional as Neil sputtered when the plastic smacked him in the face.

"What's all this?" the junkie questioned. For fuck's sake, why did his eyes have to be so blue?

Andrew just gestured for him to take the clothes out and saw as Neil's face grew confused when he saw what he was holding.

"Jeans? Didn't you literally buy some like a week ago?"

"Two," Andrew corrected, because he was a petty bitch if nothing else. Neil rolled his stupid eyes at that but waited for Andrew to provide an explanation. Andrew heaved a regretful sigh. "The bottom of them are all frayed now"

"Frayed?" the striker's brows furrowed before his face cleared and a shit-eating smirk crossed his face. "Wait, wait, wait. Are you saying you were too short for your jeans?"

Andrew nearly stabbed him right then and there.

"Shut. Up."

"Oh my gosh. Andrew. Andrew."

When Andrew got up (not grumpily. never grumpily. (okay, maybe a little grumpily)), Neil tugged on his shirt sleeve with an apologetic grin. "Sorry, sorry, I'll stop making fun," but his eyes were squinted as he tried not to laugh and his face was flushed and his lips were red as he bit on them, and honestly, how was Andrew expected to stay annoyed after seeing that?

"I mean," Neil continued. "You're paying with whatever you have left of Tilda's life insurance, right? And it's technically her fault you're so, uh... vertically challenged because of the drugs and shit. So you buying all these jeans are like a big "fuck you" to her!"

Andrew blinked slowly at his not-boyfriend's not-cute not-endearing hand-waving and decided he could take a hit to his reputation if it kept Neil glowing like this. "Josten. Are you saying that being short is literally in my jeans?"

"Holy shit, yes."

To be fair, he had been warned. This was probably his own fault. Which he would never admit, but whatever.

It had started fine enough.

Andrew had been smoking by the windowsill as he waited for Neil to come back from his class. It was raining heavily and he felt a comfortable laze settle in his bones, so he didn't bother to open the window, despite Kevin's complaints.

"Andrew, stop smoking in here. If you want to destroy your lungs, at least do it away from me."

"Shut up and watch your damn Exy, Day."

He shut up and watched his damn Exy.

Andrew let the sounds of the game wash over him as he let his eyes droop (when did Exy become... relaxing to him? That was moderately concerning), so by the time he realized that there was an incessant beeping sound in the background, everything was too far gone to not have gone to shit.

His body finally jolted into action when he finally registered that the smoke alarm was blaring in their dorm and he heard yells coming from outside in the hallway, which probably meant an RA or some other Foxes were about to burst in and see him smoking where he wasn't supposed to. For the third time this month.

Crap.

"Day. Day! Get off your fucking computer and turn off the alarm," he hissed as he (gracefully) scrambled to the kitchen to find a towel.

"Hmm?" Kevin hummed blearily. "Oh. That. Well, I told you so."

Andrew simply could not believe it. (Well, maybe he could a bit. Kevin was just that kind of asshole frie— person.)

By the time he dampened a towel (wow, they really needed to do the dishes sometime soon), the shouts were right outside the door and he heard keys jingling in the lock. Quickly he scrambled up the table, but in his haste, kicked over a glass of water (vodka? Sprite? whatever).

He tripped over slightly and his foot splashed into the puddle on the table, causing him to cringe internally. His sock felt horribly wet and tingly, and it was nearly enough to distract him from the creaking of the door opening. Quickly, he reached up, flapping the towel near the smoke alarm to turn it off.

It wasn't enough. He couldn't reach the alarm.

In a split-second, he decided to just fuck it and leapt up to see if that would work. However, the uncomfortable feeling in his feet and the stupid smoke alarm and the fucking banging of the door made him severely misjudge his strength.

Andrew jumped a lot further forward than he expected. He flew through the air, one foot catching on the top of a chair, the other stabbed by the edge of the table. In a futile attempt to gain his balance, Andrew flailed his arms around, but that just caused the towel to smack him in the face.

Eventually, gravity took hold of him and he (and the chair) crashed into the floor, the towel mockingly flopping on his hair. Blearily, he raised his head up and saw Neil and their RA staring at him concernedly from the doorway.

Well, this was awkward. At least the beeping had stopped.

Their RA, an unfortunately attractive tennis player named Richard Addams (Nicky found it hilarious that their RA's initials were R.A.. Andrew called him 'Certified Dick™'), stepped in cautiously. "Andrew, everything okay?"

"Just peachy," he grumbled.

Neil ran to Andrew's side at the sound of his voice and pushed his blond hair out of his face. "Why peaches? They're honestly not even that good; I can only stand the really big and thick and juicy ones."

Andrew froze and even Kevin closed his laptop that. "Neil," Certified Dick™ said slowly. "Do you know what peaches are?"

"Duh," he rolled his eyes. "Fruit. That's why Nicky has a peach next to my name in his contacts. Because I like fruits."

Idiot.

"It means 'ass,' " Andrew informed him. Neil gaped.

"It means wha— "

"Okay," Certified Dick™ exclaimed cheerfully. "I'm gonna leave y'all here. Andrew, I'll assume you weren't doing anything against the rules because you are a kind person who always listens to what I say."

"Of course," Andrew said blandly. "I am a wonderful student." He fingered the edges of his armbands.

Certified Dick™ slowly backed out of the room.

Neil let out a breath and blew his hair out of his eyes. "Okay," he started. "We'll talk about the ass thing later. But first, what the hell just happened?"

Andrew pointed up at the smoke alarm.

"Well, yes, I got that, but why were you jumping around like an absolute idiot?"

"Kevin is useless," Andrew announced.

"Not true!" Kevin protested immediately. "You just never listen to me. It's not my fault that I'm always right."

Andrew glared at him and turned back to Neil. "I couldn't reach the stupid smoke alarm," he finally gritted out, bracing for someone to mock him.

It never came.

Instead, Neil gave him a cheeky grin and a wink (at least, Andrew assumed it was a wink) and turned to Kevin with a faux-annoyed stare. "Seriously, Kev? You didn't help him?"

"He got himself into his own mess," Kevin shrugged.

"Okay, and what if someone had caught him? They might have not allowed him to play Exy for a bit! Or maybe while he was trying to shut off the alarm, he could have really hurt himself!" Neil was really laying it heavy on the dramatics, brandishing his arms wildly.

Kevin's eyes widened in horror at his words. "Shit."

"Yeah," Neil nodded graveley. "Us Exy players have got to look out for each other. How else will we live to our potentials?"

Kevin looked like he was going to be sick. Quickly, he whipped open his laptop and began muttering questions on how to secretly disable smoke alarms.

"Junkie," Andrew muttered to Neil. Neil just hummed and pressed a kiss to the crook of his neck.

"Yeah," he whispered a few moments later. "Only for you."

Hmm. This was nice.

Andrew never could have imagined he would be the kind of guy to stumble over furniture while kissing his way through a room, and yet, here he was, crashing into tables and upturning chairs and tripping over bags.

He had Neil's fingers intertwined with his and was dragging him through the dorm, the kisses constantly pausing because Neil kept breaking off into small smiles and laughing into his neck. Every few steps, Andrew would take a look at his flushed junkie and absolutely forget about his plan to reach the bedroom, choosing instead to kiss him ferociously right there.

They were lucky that no one else was in the dorm.

When Andrew realized that it had taken them a solid seven minutes to walk about 15 feet past the door, he realized they would probably never reach an actual bed at the rate they were going. He told Neil as much and was rewarded with a shrug.

"I literally don't care where we end up," Neil said breathlessly before pulling him into another heated kiss. "I just wanna kiss you."

Andrew nearly snorted at that. How predictable. "I got that" he muttered. "But what do you want?"

Neil raised an eyebrow and deepened his voice mockingly. "I want nothing."

"You are actually so insufferable."

"Yeah, yeah," Neil waved him off and latched his mouth on Andrew's neck. Fuck. "Hmm," he said a few moments later. "Carry me?"

Andrew resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Ever since the junkie had seen how much he lifted at the gym a few weeks ago, this had become one of his favorite requests (and really, who was Andrew to deny him?).

Nevertheless, he leaned down and grabbed both of Neil's thighs, pushing him up until his legs were secured around Andrew's waist and Andrew could comfortably hold him up, his body flush against Andrew's.

Yeah, he got why Neil liked this so much.

He wasn't sure how long he'd be able to hold Neil up for though, considering that they actually had a game tomorrow and he didn't want to put up with Kevin's annoying complaints if he didn't try at least a bit. Andrew glanced around for a second before his eyes caught on the perfect place.

He adjusted his grip on Neil, causing him to let out an oof in surprise and carefully made his way to the kitchen (with only a slight amount of kissing in the middle). Andrew messily deposited Neil on the island counter and was promptly faced with another problem.

Neil was up there. Andrew was down here. How the hell were they supposed to make out now?

Andrew frowned slightly and tugged at Neil's collar. "Lean down," he commanded.

Neil complied and pressed a searing kiss to his lips, tugging at Andrew's hair, but too soon he pulled back.

At Andrew's 'yes or no?' Neil smiled down sheepishly. "It's a yes, but this angle's going to end up destroying my back."

That made no sense — whenever Andrew sat on the counter, he never had to lean down that much. He reasoned that the weight of being an Exy junkie was finally catching up to Neil's spine, though.

"Well," Andrew huffed. "I'm not going up on my toes."

"Why would you need to go on your toes?" Neil looked genuinely confused as Andrew frustratedly gestured at the air between them. "Wait, wait. Can you not reach me if I'm sitting up here?"

Andrew's thoughts came to a halt.

He pulled back (well, as much as he could while still staying in Neil's arms) and squinted suspiciously at his not-boyfriend. "Can you normally reach me when I sit up?"

"Well, yeah," Neil blinked. "I mean, I have to stretch a little bit but it's usually fine."

What.

Unceremoniously, Andrew yanked Neil off the counter and sat himself up (he pretended not to notice the stare that Neil gave when he flexed his arms). He hooked his ankles around Neil and dragged him closer, coming nearly forehead-to-forehead.

Forehead-to-forehead. Neil could reach him.

Andrew let out an uncharacteristic groan and dropped his head on Neil's surprisingly comfy shoulder. Neil snorted quietly and patted his head.

"It's okay, Drew," he said, his voice muffled but teasing as he pressed a kiss to the top of Andrew's head. "Maybe next time we can get you a stool or something. That'll be real attractive."

Andrew scowled and kicked him in the leg.

Neil's voice softened as he lowered his arms to rub soft circles on his back. "But I'm serious Andrew, it's okay." He pressed a soft kiss to Andrew's collarbone, the underside of his jaw, the corner of his lips. "Does this feel good?"

Andrew swallowed. Hiding from Neil was a fight he knew he'd lose, and there was no point prolonging the inevitable. "Yes."

"Then that's all I need. Making you feel good makes me feel good," he whispered. "I really like this, what we do right now. And if you want, we can still find more positions that feel really good. Don't stress, we have time."

"Hmm," Andrew said a few moments later. "That is all fine and well, but actually, we now only have about 20 minutes until Kevin comes back from class, and I would highly appreciate it if you could get me off sometime soon."

"Asshole. We were totally having a moment."

"Next to a bowl of apples."

"Rude. I bet those apples appreciated the conversation."

Andrew rolled his eyes at Neil's idiocy, but kissed him hard to convey everything he felt: you care, you listen, you are okay with me, you are safe for me. Neil seemed to get the message, because his body softened under Andrew's grip as he kissed him back eagerly.

When they finally pulled apart, Andrew felt heavy and sated and secure in the way he only associated with Neil. He looked into Neil's blown-out pupils, the blue peeking brightly at the edges of his eyes as he slowly brought Neil's hand to the waistband of his jeans.

"Right," Andrew tried for a nonchalant tone. The slight voice-crack may have betrayed him, but whatever. "Take off my pants now?"

South Carolina winters were shit.

Growing up in Oakland meant that he was pretty used to cold winters and hot summers, but usually things only got unbearably chilly at night, when he could pile tons of blankets on himself. Unfortunately, winters in the South brought biting wind and snow. All day long.

Andrew hated the cold (sure, he could walk around with a blanket draped over him like a cape in his dorm (he did. occasionally), but alas, he actually had a reputation to uphold)

And yet, when Nicky and Dan enthusiastically told Neil about their stupid plan and Neil had sent a stupid questioning gaze to Andrew's stupid face, he sure as fuck couldn't use "the cold" as an excuse to deny those eyes.

So he bundled up into a turtleneck, a sweater, a thin jacket and a snow one, a beanie, a pair of gloves, leggings and then sweatpants, and his warmest socks (Andrew decidedly ignored Neil's snickers, who was annoying dressed in just a long-sleeved shirt and jeans. how rude.)

The so-called Monsters trampled down to the parking lot outside the Tower, boots sinking deep into the snow. Andrew shivered at the sudden wind and if he walked a little closer to Neil's hot warm body — well, no one needed to know.

Within seconds of their arrival, Andrew was regretting coming out.

A massive snowball soared through the air and slammed into Aaron's face, who promptly fell on his ass from the force of it.

"What the fuck?" he sputtered, wiping snow out of his eyes.

"HA!" Reynolds hollered. "Take that!"

"Oh dear," Neil muttered. "I didn't expect this much violence from the start."

"We are Foxes," Andrew scoffed. "Violence is the whole point."

"Actually, there's this one piece of shit in my Stats class and he tried to tell me I was wrong — I wasn't, by the way — and instead of punching him, I just very mathematically proved how incompetent he was and I told him that his parents' miscalculation when it came to conceiving him evidently got passed on to him in the form of his nonexistent math skills. So. No violence."

Andrew wasn't sure if he should kiss Neil or smack him. "Right. Because verbal annihilation is a very tame response."

"Since when have you been such a peacemaker?"

"Renee."

"You two literally beat the shit out of each other every week."

Andrew shrugged. "Semantics."

"I really don't think— "

Their conversation was rudely interrupted by Matt throwing a snowball mere inches away from Andrew's face. At his glare, Matt promptly ran behind a car.

"Neil," Andrew sighed. "I hate you."

"I didn't force you to be here," Neil pointed out. "Could've said no. What did Nicky call you? 'Whipped.' So ha." With that profound statement, Neil ducked and dumped a handful of snow down the back of Andrew's shirt.

"Ha," Andrew said back smugly. "Layers." Neil looked betrayed.

"Layers. I forgot."

"I didn't."

"Asshole."

"Yup."

Neil scowled and kicked at Andrew's highly sturdy snow boots petulantly. Andrew refrained from rolling his eyes turned towards him. "Yes or no?"

"Oh," Neil perked up. Junkie. "Yes, yes."

Andrew jabbed him in the stomach and when Neil keeled over groaning, he pressed a kiss to his lips and shoved his head under Neil's chin.

"Personal heater," Andrew explained. Then he grabbed Neil's arms and tucked them around his waist. This was good.

"Right," Neil snorted. "Naturally. I can't wait until someone throws a snowball at your face and you get all cold and wet."

Andrew scowled. How rude.

"Oi, Minyard!" Dan called and Andrew sighed before wiggling around until he was facing her, back flush against Neil's front. "This is for drawing mustaches all over the pictures in the Court!"

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "You have no proof— "

His protests were cut off with the sight of a snowball hurtling full speed at him. He made to jump out of the way (maybe Exy was good for something after all), but Neil's arms around him proved to be a real hindrance.

As it was, he got jerked back into place, the snowball inches in front of him. Andrew shut his eyes, hoping he could use this as an excuse to drag Neil into the dorm to warm up, when he heard an "oof" from behind him.

Andrew twisted around to find Neil's face covered in an explosion of snow, water dripping down his shocked expression.

His eyelashes were nice. Hmm.

"Wh- What?" he shivered. "How is there snow on my face? Wasn't it supposed to land on you?"

Oh.

Andrew brushed off some snow that had settled on his cheekbones before stepping back a bit (still in Neil's arms. that was necessary). And Neil was right, it was odd, the snowball was supposed to hit him and instead, it had smashed itself on Neil.

"I believe," Andrew said slowly. "My height has proved to be advantageous."

"Advan— you mean you were so short the snowball literally missed you and hit me?!"

"Yup," Andrew felt extremely self-satisfied. "See, had you been shorter, this wouldn't have happened. Alas, there's just more of you to hit when you're tall."

"That— I— Andrew!"

"That's my name."

"Ugh. I am cold and wet and very much not liking this," Neil grumbled.

"Bet you wish you had as many jackets as me, huh?" Andrew crowed.

"You could always give one of them to me," Neil said as he yanked Andrew back against him.

"I could. Not feeling it, though."

"Bastard."

"Just a little," Andrew agreed. He tilted his head up to look at Neil and oh, that angle was good, his lips were right there, how did Andrew never notice that Neil's eyelashes framed his eyes so nicely?

Hmm. If this was the view, maybe his height had some... unforeseen perks that extended beyond snowball fighting.

"I win," Andrew told Neil seriously. At his confused expression, Andrew was forced to sigh out an explanation. "You are very pretty from down here."

"Oh?"

"Shut up."

"I think you're pretty too."

"198%."

"Kiss me?"

"Ugh, if you insist."

Andrew leaned up to press his lips to Neil, dutifully ignoring the cheers from behind him, as Neil placed a hand under his chin to tilt him up further, which felt very nice.

Yeah, Andrew was living the good life. He had a maybe-boyfriend who was the perfect height and a brother and cousin who might actually stay, and he was content and safe and— really fucking cold because there was a ball of snow sliding down his neck what the fuck what the fuck what the fu— .

"NICKY."

"Shit. Sorry!"

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