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gurugirl · 7 months

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Just For Tonight | Ch. 3

This is the last part of this mini series! We might have some more coming for you - stay tuned!

Series Summary: Harry spots an angel in the crowd and he can't keep his eyes off of her. And, as if by some cosmic pull, he can't help but ask her backstage. But it's only going to be just for tonight. Or is it?

Chapter Summary: Is it true what they say? Does distance really make the heart grow fonder? Y/n isn't so sure so she tries to move on. But Harry has other plans.

A/N: In this chapter I mention a particular ex (without naming her) as part of the plot. This does not mean I feel one way or another about her, nor do I think this is an accurate representation of how she's acted after their split. This was requested for the story. This is a work of fiction.

Warning: 18+ only, smut, mentions of an ex, angst

Word Count: 11.8k

Commissioned by anon (thank you!! xoxo)

Just For Tonight Masterlist

It had been difficult for Y/n to stop thinking about Harry. They connected so well and she loved the way he was with her and how he carried himself. Loved the way they could talk about nothing and have it feel like the most interesting thing.

They had a few calls after he left LA for his tour. But that quickly became hard to navigate with the different time zones. He said he liked her and wanted to see her again. And she was sure that when he said that he meant it. The distance won, however.

But with his absence, with him being in another country on tour, and hundreds of people begging for a chance of what she got lucky enough to experience, she figured that what she’d gotten was probably all she’d ever get.

And that was okay. It wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted more of him. Would have loved to have seen him but she knew he was too famous and too amazing to settle for someone like her. She knew better than to ever get her hopes up. He’d done nothing wrong.

Instagram showed pictures of him with his friends and a mystery woman. A woman who was with him at one of his concerts. And then another one. Photos of them walking along the streets together. A fuzzy snap of them at a small café huddled closely. That was also okay. There had been no promises or commitments made.

Y/n hated to do it, hated to open up Instagram but her curiosity about Harry and if he’d been spotted by fans was eating at her. A DuexMoi post with a screenshot from his recent long-term ex’s Instagram account had her feeling nauseated. It was a subtle thing. Nothing specific but everyone picked up on the meaning. The text was a quote from a book she’d been reading over a picture of a close-up of her wearing a cross necklace.

The comments on what it meant were all over the place. And Y/n knew better than to read into anything too deeply or to fixate on something like this. Harry had brought up his ex once when their conversation was relevant to it. Said that she continued reaching out to him and that even when it was clear they were over the woman still called him and sent him messages on the regular.

And as much as she knew that it was probably nothing she couldn’t shake the way it felt to think of Harry and his ex getting back together somehow. She didn’t know anything about what he was doing at that moment because their calls had all but stopped by then. But the post from his ex was a signal. Did it mean anything? Maybe. But maybe it only meant something to his ex. Perhaps Harry hadn’t even seen it.

However, the comments on the post suggested they were talking again and reports of them trying to “work it out” were numerous.

And with that idea, she decided to log back into her stupid dating app. Try and get over the pop star once and for all. Move on if she could.

She’d had one good date from the app ages ago. The rest of the men who contacted her were absolute wastes but perhaps she’d find someone once again who she could tolerate for longer than a chat session. She’d give it a shot.

. . .

“But you did take her call?” Jeff spoke over the phone as Harry walked back to the hotel after a training session with Brad.

“Well, yeah. We have history. I didn’t want to be rude. Haven’t talked to her in a while. Thought maybe it could be important.”

“And was it?” Jeff sounded exasperated.

“No. She just said she missed me. Wants to see me when I get back to the States.”

Harry knew when he saw the incoming call from his ex that he probably shouldn’t pick up. But that was the thing about him. He was a people pleaser. He didn’t like when anyone was upset with him and he liked being on everyone’s good side. Even if it meant answering a call he didn’t want to take.

And part of him missed her. Missed what they had at the very beginning but he’d truly moved on. Especially with the idea that he’d be getting back to LA soon and seeing Y/n again. He hoped he hadn’t ruined it with her. It was hard to keep in contact with her. Too many missed calls and back-and-forth voicemails. Even the texts with Y/n had dwindled slowly. He understood that the distance was hard to overcome but that didn’t mean he wasn’t looking forward to hopefully seeing her again.

He knew if he had the chance to see her again and she still wanted to give it a shot with him he wouldn’t be letting go next time. He’d make it official. He’d want to really do it right with her. And he’d have a little time off from the tour to dote on her and give her lots of attention. Maybe even convince her that she should just travel with him wherever he went off to. Convince her that she should be his and that he would do everything he could to make her happy like she deserved.

He hoped it wasn’t too late.

And now with the new Instagram post from his ex the gossip had begun. Full articles written about how he and his ex were getting back together again, how it was true love, and a bunch of other nonsense that her story caused. And Jeff was pissed.

“I really wish you wouldn’t have taken her call. That’s sending her mixed signals and now with that godforsaken post she put up you’re already getting hate messages about taking her back. Calling you complicit. It’s a nightmare.”

Sometimes Harry really hated being famous. He didn’t even have to do much to get scrutiny. Sometimes one small little blunder, like answering a call could set off a chain of events that led him to where he was now, getting his ear chewed off by Jeff and having his fans upset with him.

But his main concern was if Y/n had seen it or not. He wondered what she thought about it. If she cared. He wondered how she was. If she’d seen anyone while he was gone. He missed her.

. . .

The job at The Dulcería had turned out to be one of the best things ever, income-wise anyway. She was exhausted and had little free time but she was pulling in pretty healthy tips and when it came time to pay her rent she had plenty left over to pay on time and stick the rest in savings.

Vyra steered clear for the most part but she did hover a bit any time Y/n had a table with a high roller or celebrity. Which, Y/n came to learn that not all celebrities tipped like Harry Styles. In fact, some tipped worse than normies to her shock.

One particularly demanding uber-famous model with her model friends was nice at first. Needed things brought out in a certain order, the wine had to be perfectly chilled or she wouldn’t drink from her glass, and then there was the lighting issue. She and her friends were snapping photos of themselves “eating” and the lights weren’t right.

Their table was full of The Dulcería’s most exclusive and expensive desserts (which the restaurant was famous for) and yet only a few bites were taken after uploading all their photos to Instagram. It was a shame that all of it had to be tossed when their table was cleared. It felt like it should be illegal. Belgian fine chocolate ganache, freshly made lemon curd, berries from the local market selected that very morning, handpicked herbs, candied pistachios, and fresh lavender cream. All that waste for nothing.

The tip that was left after that three-hour debacle was less than 5% of the bill. She assumed the woman who supposedly had many millions of dollars to her name would have given a better tip on a nearly $3,000 tab. Just imagine watching a rich woman clad in designer carrying a purse most people had to get on a waitlist for leaving a $145 tip on a $3,000 tab.

Still, even then, she was bringing in good tips and couldn’t complain often.

Her feet hurt and she smelled like the restaurant through and through at the end of her shifts. If she could have just collapsed into her bed and gone to sleep she would have. But the thought of not showering off first made her skin crawl. She needed the scent of food and spilled wine scrubbed from her pores.

And like she did nearly every night before falling asleep, she checked social media and then checked her dating app to see if there were any hits. Any worthy of a response from her.

One evening she did hear from a man who seemed intriguing. He appeared to be normal and handsome. So she sent him a response and opened up the chat option if he wanted to pursue something.

And the following day at the office she and Jimmy had chatted intermittently. She felt that sweet little familiar bubble of excitement in her tummy when her phone gave her a notification that he’d messaged her.

They made plans to meet up in person on a Wednesday after work at a bar near to her house.

It had been almost two months since she’d seen Harry. He did message her a few weeks prior but there was no call and when she responded he didn’t respond back. She figured it was time to look for something a little more serious. She knew better than to assume she and Harry were endgame. No matter how good the sex and connection were.

She stopped stalking Instagram and googling to find out where he was in the world. It was better for her own mental health to try and move on from him. He had been a fun fling. A great guy. Maybe one of the best “hookups” she’d ever had. Not maybe. He definitely was. He had been kind and thoughtful and fun. And he was great in bed.

But it was time to put that behind her now. A date with a nice, normal guy was in order. She just hoped she could erase the way Harry made her feel and that she wouldn’t compare every guy she tried dating to the pop star.

Jimmy was attractive in person to her delight. He worked downtown not far from where she did and they talked about mundane things like their commute (anyone living in or around LA will understand this is a hot topic), the buildings they worked in, and their jobs. When Y/n revealed she worked as a waitress on the side Jimmy seemed impressed by her even more.

After a few glasses of wine and for Jimmy, beer, they decided to part ways. It had been a good first meetup. Y/n was feeling buzzy and excited. Hopeful.

The chats with Jimmy continued but moved from the app to texts. They had plans to meet up again Monday evening.

Her weekend shift at The Dulcería was like any other. Tips were good. Some of the patrons were just so-so. Vyra was annoying but gave her space. But she was exhausted. She only worked an extra 18 hours a week as a waitress but after a few months, it began to wear on her.

So when Monday came around and she walked to the same bar to meet up with Jimmy she didn’t expect that the text she’d be getting wouldn’t be from her date.

Just as she was pushing through the doors to the bar she looked at her notification screen and nearly dropped her phone.

It was Harry.

She paused by the door for a moment, contemplating whether or not to read the text to see what he wanted or to wait until after her date. She decided on the latter out of respect for Jimmy.

The problem was, though, that Y/n couldn’t get it out of her mind what it was that Harry had texted her. It had been long enough that she figured he’d completely moved on. And was it fair of him to reach out again after all that time?

So, instead of feeling flattered, she started to feel the tiny crawling of annoyance and frustration dragging up her spine.

“I’d like to see you again soon. Maybe we can get dinner next time. Take a walk afterward along the boardwalk or something?” Jimmy said as he hugged Y/n goodbye before they went their separate ways.

“That sounds great. I’m free Sunday night if you want to do it then. Kind of hard most Fridays and Saturdays,” she shrugged as she felt Jimmy squeeze her hand.

“Sunday night sounds perfect. Can I pick you up?”

. . .

Hey, how are you? Miss you.

She read the text over and over again. That was all it said but why? Why send it? It wasn’t as if he couldn’t be allowed to text her. He had her number. They’d slept together a couple of times and had gotten to know one another beyond just surfacey stuff. But still.

Instead of texting him back, she decided to leave him on read. She needed time to figure out how to respond. What to say, or if she should say anything. Maybe she should just leave it so he got the hint about what was going on. That she didn’t want to open up that chapter again and get herself hurt. Because she would get her heart broken by Harry if she let herself get lost in it.

And it wasn’t like he’d done anything wrong at all. It was clear that what had happened between them had just been casual. Good, fun sex. So responding to him wouldn’t have been weird but there was a part of her that felt like maybe he’d dug his way into her heart a little more than she was ready to admit. If she was taking his innocent text so seriously and pondering it so deeply, perhaps there was more to it. Which meant she needed to let it go for her own good.

So she did leave him on read. But more for her sake than his she figured.

. . .

Harry couldn’t understand why she hadn’t responded. He could see that she’d read the text. But why not respond? He wondered if this meant she’d moved on. Maybe she’d seen that post from his ex and figured he was on his way to getting back with her somehow amidst all the rumors.

He was aware of how things were between himself and Y/n. He’d given in and fucked his own rule to not sleep with someone who was supposed to be a one-time thing more than once. To go back for more. But when he saw her that night at the restaurant he felt like somehow it was fate. Not like a deep sort of forever kind of fate, but more like a this is okay to indulge in more than once kind of fate. He usually didn’t like doing that but with Y/n it felt different. And she was hot. And funny. And the way she handled him in bed had definitely left a mark on him. She wasn’t just a fan or a casual sex partner. She wasn’t just some girl.

So that’s why he texted her. He was coming back to LA in a couple of weeks. Figured they could see one another again and have some fun. But maybe that was the problem. She was more than just fun for a night. He liked her a lot. And perhaps she was feeling something similar and needed to put that distance there so she didn’t get hurt. Harry could understand that.

While he was away he had one of his good friends along with him. He liked to have someone he trusted, which was rare in his world. He had a hard time trusting most people. She was easygoing and didn’t want anything from him sexually so she was a perfect confidant and companion to have traveling with him. It was nice to have friends like her. Something that didn’t need to be anything but friendly. Someone that he could joke around with and not worry much about being on his best behavior with.

She even gave him great advice about Y/n and then his ex after the disaster of her Instagram post. He knew he’d been snapped with her as he was out and about. On walks, in restaurants, in group settings. There were of course the usual rumors that they were dating but that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

He imagined that Y/n had seen the photos of him walking with the girl next to him. Plus the post from his ex wasn’t helping matters. Maybe it had all been too much for Y/n? Or maybe he was overthinking it all. He wasn’t quite ready to give up but he’d let her be until he returned.

. . .

Jimmy took Y/n to a cute little Mexican spot Sunday night and they ordered margaritas and Baja tacos with guacamole and cactus salad.

And Jimmy looked extra attractive that evening. She hadn’t noticed before then that his forearms were so thick. He had a sweater on that he’d pushed up to his elbows baring his arms. A bit of scruff on his face. And he smelled nice.

She felt like maybe they’d had enough dates and had gotten to know one another well enough that going back to his place might be fun. She wouldn’t mind a fun romp in the sack with him.

So when they walked back to Jimmy’s car she decided to go out on a limb, “Would you… what do you think about maybe going back to your place together? Or mine? I was thinking we could kind of relax and continue our conversation a bit?”

Jimmy opened the passenger door for her to let her into his car, “Oh. Yeah! Absolutely. Whichever place is better for you. It’s up to you. Mine or yours.”

And because Y/n wanted to do more than just “continue their conversation” she figured his place was best since Brad was probably home. The last time she had a man in her bed was Harry and Brad hinted at having heard them the next day. Not something she wanted to repeat nor subject poor Brad to again.

Jimmy lived in a one-bedroom apartment. He had no roommates which was ideal.

“So, I just want to tell you that right now I’m not looking for a serious relationship. I still have my profile up and kind of chatting with another girl but it hasn’t gone anywhere. I think once we get to know one another a little more maybe we can talk about being exclusive. Does that sound okay?”

She appreciated Jimmy’s honesty. And she was glad that he told her before they’d gotten any further. Because they were both sitting on his couch and making out heavily. In fact, her hand was already slowly making its way up his thigh when he stopped her to come clean.

She paused and thought for a moment. Was that okay? She began to nod and turned her gaze back to her date, “Thank you for telling me. And yeah… I think I can agree to that. Let’s just keep being honest with one another like this and I think it’ll be really good,” she leaned in when Jimmy grinned at her answer and she climbed over his lap, not ready to stop the direction they were already headed.

And just as she’d intended when she left the restaurant with Jimmy they had sex after clearing the air about their status.

It was good. She liked having sex. She didn’t do it a lot. Maybe she’d have one or two a year at most. Hopefully, Jimmy would be someone she could keep around. She hated dating and finding someone she could trust.

Jimmy didn’t get her off, though. He tried. He ate her out, which she was already very pleased with. Not all men would go down on a woman without having to be prompted. Jimmy was eager.

But when that didn’t get her off she told him to get a condom so they could have sex.

Again, he was eager. Quite good really. But as was typical for having sex with anyone for the first time, she didn’t come. She was nice and wet and super turned on but it just didn’t happen.

She didn’t mind much. He did hit some really good spots that made her moan and got her close a few times. He tried rubbing her clit to get her off before he could come but it didn’t do it for her. She guided his fingers over her the way she liked but he needed time to figure out her body a little. Nothing wrong with that at all.

And he knew she didn’t come. He was disappointed in himself when he pumped into his condom and groaned in his orgasm. He apologized profusely and tried to eat her out again but she was tired. They’d been going at it for a while because his goal was to make her come.

“It’s okay. Really. Jimmy, you’re so good. It’s always like this the first time for me. I had so much fun with you.” She cupped his jaw.

While what she was saying was mostly true, she couldn’t stop imagining how Harry had gotten her off his first time. And the second time and the following morning before he left. She tried to swallow down those thoughts and not let that interrupt her moment with Jimmy but she couldn’t help it. Harry’s moves were just better and his dirty talk and his body. And his cock. And him.

She closed her eyes to squeeze out that image from her mind. There was nothing wrong with Jimmy’s body or his dick. He was fine. She was sure that after some work he’d be getting her off soon enough. They’d eventually get very comfortable with one another and sex would be better and she’d orgasm easier.

Really at the end of the day she wanted to feel close with someone. And she got exactly that with Jimmy. He pulled her into his chest and they fell asleep in his bed. She might have not gotten her orgasm but she got the connection and closeness she’d been craving and missing.

. . .

The following week they skipped going out for a date altogether and Jimmy cooked for her at his place. He was a pretty romantic person. A genuinely nice guy. Handsome, funny, smart. But their second time having sex was not different from the first. Y/n was sure she’d come and had gotten close a few times but it still just didn’t happen.

And for the first time in her life ever, she faked it. She felt she had to. The poor guy was suffering. He was hammering into her and grunting and shaking, continually pulling out before he could release. For nearly half an hour that was the scene.

He tried holding her legs to the side and thrusting into her as he hovered over her but she needed something more, she was sure. Her own fingers at her clit and his cock slipping in and out just didn’t do the job. So she got on all fours and Jimmy’s bed creaked and bounced and it felt really good. Just not good enough.

Finally, when she rode him she felt that yummy gooey thing she always got just before coming but the moment she began to quiver and just before she could come Jimmy’s words halted any further gooeyness, “Finally, fuck!”

That had done it. She wasn’t going to come. He didn’t mean it to be rude, she was sure. Jimmy was the sweetest guy, truly. But that little bit was all she needed and her orgasm was ruined. So when she felt him throbbing in his condom she moaned and clenched and did all the stupid acting a porn star would to fake her orgasm.

For him to say finally in response to thinking she was coming. Really? That had irked her. She wished he hadn’t said that.

But it didn’t deter her. She really did like the guy. And surely the third time would be the charm. Except it wasn’t. The following morning he ate her out and then they had sex and he got off while she faked it again. She had to get going anyway because it was Monday morning and she had to be at the office.

It felt good to be dating someone. Even if it was casual. Jimmy had mentioned he hadn’t seen anyone else, but she didn’t miss it when he said “yet”. And part of her preferred it casual with Jimmy. Liked that her options were still open for the time being. But it did feel good to be in a relationship of sorts. Felt nice to know that someone liked her enough to keep texting her and seeing her and wanted to sleep with her. It felt grownup. That’s what she wanted. Connection. Relationship. And that’s what Jimmy gave her. In due time they would be more sexually compatible. She was sure.

On Friday night at the restaurant, she was given a couple of large groups. They were relatively nice. Perfectly well-behaved groups. Jimmy had been texting her all night. He was hoping to see her and have her stay over until the following morning before she had to be at work.

She hadn’t decided if she would or not. She sort of wanted to sleep her morning away before needing to be on her feet all night again. And she figured she could use her dildo and make herself come because she was sure Jimmy couldn’t. She knew that he wanted to have sex with her and at that point it just sounded exhausting. Now every time they got together the night ended with sex and a failed orgasm on her part. She didn’t know if something was wrong with her or if maybe she wasn’t as compatible with Jimmy as she thought. But she knew one thing. He wasn’t getting her off like she needed. And her feelings about that were giving her pause. She wondered if she was just settling for casual dates with Jimmy. Wondering if Harry had ruined her for anyone else.

So when she was suddenly interrupted coming out of the kitchen to check on one of her tables she jumped at his voice. It had been unexpected.

“Harry? What are you doing here?” She looked around and the bustling restaurant and then back up at the handsome man. Her body tingled at his presence and she got that lightheaded excitedness that she felt every time she saw him. And she realized that that was something she never experienced with Jimmy.

“I just wanted to say hi. You hadn’t texted me back the last time I reached out and I’m here for dinner right now and saw you walking back and forth. Just wanted to see how you are.”

She didn’t realize Harry had been there. Usually, the servers would mention any time anyone famous came in.

“Oh. Yeah, I’m well. Just… gosh I’ve been really busy. How have you been? I didn’t know you were back.” She decided not to address the fact that she hadn’t responded to his text nearly a month ago.

“I’m great. Been back in LA for almost a week. Missed you.”

Missed you. Yeah, she missed him too if she were honest. But she’d been pushing it all down. Covering up her feelings with Jimmy.

“That’s… I uh… missed you too.” She didn’t know what else to say. Out loud anyway. Internally she was telling him all about how the guy she’d been dating was super sweet but terrible in bed. Well, not terrible. But not Harry. And he didn’t make her feel all floaty and full of syrup and butterflies and anticipation the way Harry did. How she was having trouble connecting with Jimmy the way she could with Harry. God, how she’d love to have another round with him again. Feel that yummy stretch he gave her, that sharp deep poke, listen to his deep voice in her ear as he coaxed her through an orgasm that had her shaking and slobbering into the sheets.

“Yeah? Maybe I can see you after? I’ll stick around til you get off.”

Her mind was playing tricks on her. Til you get off. Yeah, she knew that would happen if she allowed him to stick around. She’d get off all right. He’d see to it. She should say no. Should tell him she’s seeing someone. It’s not serious but she shouldn’t do that to Jimmy. But then again…

“Okay. Yeah. I’d like that. Should be done here in an hour and a half. Is that okay?”

“F’course. I’ll be here.”

She felt immediate guilt. Jimmy didn’t deserve to be put on the back burner. He was too sweet. And there was nothing wrong with him. Sex wasn’t amazing but it wasn’t bad and eventually, she’d get used to him and she’d orgasm with him. Surely. Right? But the biggest thing that nagged at her was the way she felt around Harry. Just having him standing before her and speaking to her had her feeling things she realized she never felt with Jimmy. Maybe Jimmy wasn’t a good match for her.

And she and Jimmy weren’t exclusive. That had been made clear at the beginning. Jimmy did say that he wasn’t ready to be serious with anyone and that he wanted to get to know her for a while before any commitments were made. So it wasn’t like she was actually doing anything wrong. And it wasn’t as if Harry was asking her to have sex with him. Not by any means. Perhaps it was just to chat. To just catch up.

. . .

It was most definitely not just to chat. But of course, she knew that. Harry had her in his bed nearly the minute they walked into his huge mansion. It was the first time she’d been to his place and she barely had a moment to look around before he was dragging her to his master suite. They’d made out the entire way from the restaurant to his place in the back of the car. She couldn’t help it. It was like magic between them. Like fate. Like they were meant to be. She felt powerless to it.

“God I missed you,” he whispered into her neck as he gripped the back of her head, “Have never kissed anyone with softer lips.”

She was wet nearly instantly. Jimmy had to work hard to get her in the state she was with Harry after only five minutes of a hot, backseat makeout session.

In his room, she pulled his pants down and dropped to her knees. She needed to see him. Needed to dig her nails into his thick, masculine thighs. She panted as she leaned in and pressed her lips over his tiger tattoo and ran her hands upward to cup his bulge.

Harry watched her from her position on her knees before him and finally felt like he was home. There was something about this girl that he couldn’t shake. He had missed her. And the whole reason he had gone to The Dulcería that night was to see her.

So he was surprised when she so easily said yes to seeing him after work. Surprised when she flirted with him and responded to his touch with touches of her own. Surprised when she kissed him in the back seat of the cab and now more than anything, was pleased by the direction the night was going.

He decided before he even saw her that night that he wanted to make her his. Wanted it to be official. He could see himself getting serious with her. Saw himself bringing her with him everywhere. Falling in love. The whole nine.

Her lips sucked and pulled at his cock and it was better than he remembered. There was certainly nothing like the real thing when it came to getting head and Harry had been doing a lot of imagining over the months. He’d missed her warmth and her eyes. Her wet lips slipping over his shaft.

She coughed and gurgled around him as she sat back for a breath and stroked him in her hand. He brushed his fingers along her temple to move her hair from her face and she was already looking up at him. Her top had been unbuttoned and he had a view of her big tits held in by her bra and her soft eyes looking up at him with his cock in her hand.

“Fuck, angel. Missed you so much.”

She smiled and leaned in with her pink tongue sticking out before licking over his balls, gently kissing and sucking at the skin. He moaned as she moved upward over his shaft and to his crown before popping him back into her mouth.

Another good gag had Harry pulling her up, “Darling, take your clothes off,” he said through soft breaths as he pulled his shirt off and kicked his pants down the rest of the way off his legs.

She removed her work outfit and could smell the restaurant on herself, “I should like, shower or something. I smell like kitchen and food…”

Harry dragged her into his arms and stepped her back toward the bed, “Just like you are. I need you now.” He spoke against her lips.

She was pushed into his bed, her naked body under his with his soft mouth drinking her in. His lips moved from her jaw to her neck and suckled at her tits for a while before he got down to business slurping away at her cunt.

Yes. Okay. That was good. Harry was good. And she knew it wasn’t just because he was so skilled. No. She realized that it was because of the way she felt for Harry. Her heart thundered in her chest wildly as she yanked his hair and ground her pussy into his face. Harry sucked and kissed and fingered wetly as he moaned into flesh. It was everything. Harry was everything.

When she splashed a bit on his face from her orgasm Harry sat back with a laugh as he massaged the inside of her thighs. She forced herself to open her eyes to look at him. He was breathing heavily, his chest flushed pink, his cock thickened and erect. Ready to be pressed right into her sloppy pussy.

He had a hand at his base as he smoothed his weepy tip through her hot and sticky crease. He small whine fell from his lips before he got up to grab a condom. He would have loved to have just fucked her raw but they’d need to talk about all that first. And they’d barely done any talking that evening.

She pushed herself up to her elbows to watch Harry as he stood next to the bed and looked down at his girthy cock, sliding the condom over himself. She couldn’t wait to feel him inside of her again. At long last.

His strong body was insane. She’d never get over it. Wanted to drag her tongue over every inch and drink up his sweat and taste the salt in her mouth. God, he made her insatiable.

Harry kneed up to her on the bed, his heavy condom-covered dick swaying until he pulled her toward him and planted his lips onto hers. Soft and sensuous. The way he kissed her was enough to call it all off Jimmy. It had her head spinning and her tummy doing somersaults. Never something Jimmy had accomplished in their couple of months of dating.

He was breathing hard as he backed from the kiss and looked over her bare body, “I needed this so bad. God… You have no idea how much I missed you, Y/n.”

She really didn’t know. Because she imagined he was getting plenty of ass while he’d been away.

Harry laid her down on the bed, her back flat on the mattress as he leaned over her frame and attached his lips to her breasts one at a time. She could feel his cock dragging over her as he moved from one nipple to the other.

He felt her buck upward under him and he smiled as he popped off her nipple and looked down at her, “Need something, angel?”

She nodded with a grin, “Your cock. Please.”

Harry groaned and thumbed over moistened nipples before grasping his shaft with one hand and planting his palm down onto the mattress to hold himself up over her.

“Yeah? Please? You missed me, angel?”

“Oh my god…” she moaned as she felt his tip press against her entrance, “Yes. Oh my god, I missed you.”

Harry sat back onto his haunches so he could watch as he entered her. It was his favorite view. The way she spread open, the tight little snap of him entering her clenching muscle, how nicely she took all of him. He pushed in and pulled back, wetting himself as he inched in further and further. She was sopping and had coated his condom in her drippy juices. He moaned as he dipped in deeper and watched her mouth drop open in relief at the feel of him stuffing her pussy.

When he’d gotten in balls deep he sighed, “Oh fuck, angel. I’m gonna treat you so good.” And he didn’t just mean while he was fucking her. He meant it in every way one could. He was going to treat her exactly as she deserved.

When he began to thrust in and out with long and languid strokes, the poke into her belly was toe-curling. She’d missed the way his cock felt and missed him. Missed him more than anything.

The patting of their skin slapping together wetly sounded as good as it felt. Harry moaned and Y/n gasped. He was deep. It was as if he’d somehow grown in size since he’d been away but she was sure it was just because Harry was Harry. She liked his dick but she just really liked him.

Harry had a nice grip on her thighs to keep them spread so he could have an unobstructed image of what he was doing to her, “God your little hole is just taking me, baby…” he groaned.

She peered up at him, his abs and his thighs flexing as he worked himself into her steadily. Every time he plunged in he nudged himself into her with a quick buck at the end to push himself as far in as he could get, causing her to jolt upward and whimper at the ache.

“Your cock… oh god Harry…” she didn’t know what she was trying to say. Except maybe just that she was really enjoying him. A compliment to how good he felt. How good he was.

Harry rhythmically rocked into her and released one of her thighs to use his thumb on her clit. He softly smoothed his pad over her sticky and aroused nub and she gasped. Harry grinned at her as she reached down to feel the mess they were making, her fingers slipping next to his and then lower, to feel where his cock was sliding in and out, spreading her pussy apart, the wet hair at his base, his balls as they nudged into her when he buried himself in.

“My cock? Yeah? That feel good inside you?”

“Yes, fuck… your gonna make me come so hard,” she moaned her words as she kept her fingers held against the spot where he was pushing into her, slick and creamy.

“Feel that? Feel how wet you get for me? How hard you make me?” He sucked in a sharp breath when her fingers glided along his balls and he stilled his hips, grinding himself into her. She was forced to move her fingers back up to her clit as Harry grasped her hips and pulled her over him so she could feel just how deep he was.

“God I wish I could fuck you without a condom. Come inside of your sweet cunt and fill you up like you deserve.”

She moaned at his words and the way he was buried inside of her guts. Her eyes fluttered closed as she continued to finger over her clit. That sounded exactly like what she wanted too. Wanted to feel him pouring into her and then watch it leak out slowly as he stuffed it back in with his tip.

“Oh my god, Harry. That sounds good…” She looked down at where his pelvis was pasted to hers as he circled his hips into her.

“Yeah? Gonna make you mine, baby and then I’m gonna fuck you raw and come inside of you over and over again. You want that?”

Nodding her head, she had a pained, fucked-out expression on her face, “Yess…” she panted.

Harry leaned over her body, not able to resist kissing her any longer. He needed his mouth on hers immediately.

The quick change of position had Y/n gasping as Harry shifted over her and pressed his lips to hers. The smooth strokes of his cock started up again as he planted his mouth over hers and licked against her tongue.

Intimate. That’s what it was. Harry was intimate but it felt especially real. Especially meaningful. She tried not to think about how soft and loving he was being with her because it felt so much like what someone would do if he was in love.

But then suddenly he took her hand and wound his fingers into hers, pressing their joined hands into the bed next to the pillow her head was on, as he continued thrusting and kissing. That gesture totally tipped her mind into that place she didn’t want to go. That place that told her he was just as into her as she was into him. That he wanted her and only her.

She bent her knees and planted her feet flat, lifting her hips upward each time he pushed in. It was wet and hot between them. Harry’s body over hers was solid and strong as he fucked into her with everything he had. She felt it too. Felt him put his whole body into each thrust.

Their hands stayed wound together tightly as Harry licked into her mouth. They parted only for gasps of air and to let out whimpers and moans.

“Please, Y/n…” Harry whispers against her lips before opening his mouth over hers and smoothing them together, closing his mouth around her tongue and then pressing his tongue passed her lips. She wanted to ask him why he said please but her brain was scrambled and focused on the way their bodies moved together. How good he felt. How good she felt.

Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it. She was certain Harry could hear it too. His pelvis stayed pressed into her clit and each time he stuffed himself into the hilt he undulated his hips as she tilted her own pelvis into him.

“Oh fuck!” She cried when Harry hit something inside of her that made her body tingle. She’d felt nothing like it before but she was sure it wasn’t just something physical he was nudging into. It was something emotional. She was doomed to his charm. Doomed to fall for him whether she wanted to or not. But how could she not?

Harry pushed himself up, his hands still wrapped around hers, “Okay, angel?” His soft, beautiful eyes would haunt her. Dark lashes and a dark limbal ring that lined his already perfect shade of green…

“It just… it feels so good, Harry. You’re making me feel so good,” she panted her words.

Harry dragged his gaze from her eyes down to her tits, “Want you to ride me, okay? Want to see how you fuck yourself on me.”

Nodding her head Harry slid himself out with a soft hiss as he grasped his cock and watched the tiniest bit of liquid gush from her pussy. She’d only gotten wetter as he fucked her.

Harry took her hand and brought it to his lips, “What are you doing to me, Y/n?”

She sat up as they kept their eyes locked and Harry grasped the back of her neck and kissed her again. They sat in the middle of his massive bed, both on their knees, naked and kissing urgently until Harry sat back and pulled Y/n with him, dragging her body over his, never letting their lips part.

She straddled his lap as he grasped her hips and pressed her wet cunt to his impossibly hard erection. When he’d finally laid his back into the mattress she placed her palms over his pecs and felt his hands at her ass, guiding her up so she could put him back in as quickly as possible.

Letting her fingertips travel over his chest, feeling the hair on her palm, the sturdy muscle under his soft skin, she scraped lightly and leaned down to lick his nipple. She smiled when he moaned and as badly as she wanted to have his cock back inside of her she needed to show her affection to his gorgeous body. At least a little.

Moving her lips to his other side she licked over his pebbled nippled and looked up at his face. His eyes were closed and his mouth was dropped open. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as she nipped with her teeth gently.

Harry groaned and opened his eyes, lifting his head to watch her work over him with her teeth and her tongue, “Fuck, baby.”

Y/n grinned and lifted her mouth from his skin, “Harry, your body is fucking incredible. I could lick and kiss it all day long.”

With her eyes on his she leaned down and stuck out her pink tongue to drag up from the underside of his peck up to his other nipple. She pulled it into her mouth and scraped her teeth over it before kissing it. She dotted warm pecks upward to his clavicle and licked as she went.

Harry’s whimpers grew desperate as he watched her lick and kiss his skin. But he needed to have her on him. His cock was aching and with the sweet and adoring attention she was giving him with her tongue and her lips he was going mad.

Harry grasped her hips and the pathetic whine that fell from his throat had her peeking up at him again, “Please, angel. I need you to fuck me.”

And well, that was all it took. He had said please after all. She lined up herself over his tip and began to sink over him, her pelvis tilted into him, “Okay, baby. I’ll fuck you now. God I need you too…” they moaned loudly as she slid over him until her pussy lips were kissing the very base of his cock.

She kept her hands pressed to his chest as she gently rocked herself over him. Harry moved her up and down slowly, keeping his hands on her bottom, and watched her pretty face contort at the feel of him splitting her pussy apart on his big cock.

“God you’re already creaming all over baby. So fucking wet I can hear it.” Harry spoke through gritted teeth. He loved the way she looked on top, her tits gently jiggling at each roll of her hips, her wet mouth dropped open, her eyes fluttering open and closed in ecstasy.

“You make me so wet, Harry. No one gets me wet like you. I need you…” she groaned as she bucked her hips down over him.

“Yeah? Need me, baby? I can tell…” he gasped when she clenched over him, “Can tell by the way you’re fucking yourself on me. Gonna get yourself off on my cock, angel?”

Y/n keened when Harry lifted his hips up the tiniest bit, forcing his cock deeper yet. A delicious sting.

“Harry… fuck!”

Harry breathed in a shaky breath and pulled at her elbow to bring her body down toward his. He wanted more contact. Wanted her closer. Wanted to kiss her as they both released together because he could tell she was nearly there.

The moment her lips were pressed to his he bent his knees slightly and tilted his pelvis upward so he could thrust into her as she fucked herself down onto him. Wet squelches and soft gasps surrounded them as they kept their bodies connected, on edge, trembling.

One of Harry’s hands smoothed down to her bottom while he took his other to bring her fingers into his. He wanted it sensual, erotic, soft, lusty. There was something about fucking Y/n and having his lips on hers and her hand in his that was making his heart swell with affection. He’d never have enough of her.

She shivered over him and he knew it wasn’t because she was cold. There was no way her body was cold with the way they had been going at it. No. He knew her shiver was because she felt it. Felt what he was. Knew this was it for them.

Her breasts were smushed into Harry’s chest and her thighs were squeezing around him as she continued pushing herself down over him. Her small hand in his with her fingers threaded between his was warm.

“Shit… you coming baby?” Harry felt her limbs tense and the tight muscle at her entrance grip around his cock in pulses.

“Fuck… yess! Fuck!” She couldn’t stop her orgasm from finding its way to the surface. She hadn’t expected it to burst out of her so quickly but having her hand surrounded by his while his cock was buried inside of her was not a casual sex move and that notion alone had her spinning out of control.

He was holding her hand and kissing the edge of her mouth through it all and now that she was coming around him, he squeezed her hand tighter and whispered to her through her orgasm, “There you go, angel. Made for me, aren’t you? My good girl…” she writhed and whimpered in her climax and he could tell it felt good. Could tell she was getting what she deserved.

Harry let her spasm around him for a moment longer until he couldn’t hold on for another second. He lifted his hips and gasped as he spurt into his condom. Gushes of hot come filling the rubber tip as he throbbed inside of her.

She felt his prick pump against her slick walls as he came. His breath was caught in his throat as he released into his condom. The grasp he had on her hand was locked down hard. She would have complained that it hurt but the last thing she wanted to do was have him release her in any way. She always wanted this with him. The closeness, the intimacy. The insane connection they had.

When Harry finally filled his lungs with air and his face relaxed her felt her slumped into his chest. He loosened his grip on her hand but didn’t let go. He wouldn’t let go. Never.

She’d passed out. Simply exhausted after Harry had handled her body like he owned it. Exhausted after giving every inch of his body her attention and love because damn did he deserve it. He was breathtaking. The man deserved to be worshipped. He was stunning and the way he gave himself to her was mind-blowing.

. . .

Blinking her eyes open the morning light was barely peeking through the window. It must have been super early. He was still asleep next to her. Hair a mess, cheeks smushed, small breaths puffed out from his mouth (he slept with his mouth opened she learned after the few times they’d slept together).

She was feeling something deeper for Harry than she wanted. The guilt about ignoring Jimmy and going home with another man was eating at her. Jimmy didn’t deserve that. He was a nice guy. A normal guy. But Harry was different. And it wasn’t just because he was hot and famous. It was because they understood one another in a way that she didn’t know if she’d ever get to with Jimmy. And that didn’t feel great.

Especially because Harry was… well he was Harry Styles. Falling for him would be dangerous and she’d have her heart broken. She could fall for him too. Another round of sex like they’d had the night before and it would be over for her. She’d tip over the edge of no return and need him in a way he’d never need her. She might just have to settle for Jimmy in that case. Perhaps that would really be as good as it could get for her.

Slowly slipping out of his bed she went to the bathroom with her phone.

She powered it back on and cringed when she had a couple of missed notifications from Jimmy. Not only had she kind of betrayed his trust and slept with someone else after he asked her to come over, but she wasn’t totally honest with Harry either. Hadn’t told him about the guy she’d been dating. A guy she was working on getting to know and could see herself dating long-term. Well, she could have seen Jimmy as someone long-term had it not been for Harry being so goddamn perfect.

Could she see herself with Harry long-term? She could actually but the reality was he probably didn’t see her in the same way. She chalked up his words and the intimacy with him just being a very sensual and sexual and vulnerable man. He was probably that way with everyone he slept with. She didn’t want to assume it was because he liked her just as much as she liked him.

Splashing her face with water she sighed as she looked at herself in the mirror. She knew what she needed to do. To protect herself. To make things right.

She needed to go home and tell Jimmy everything. And then she needed to decide if she could see herself being exclusive with Jimmy or not. Could she settle? She’d let Harry get under her skin. She didn’t know how he’d done it so fast but maybe it was just his natural charm. Whatever it was, she knew Harry would be okay. Knew it was unlikely that he felt anything close to how she was feeling.

Her Uber driver arrived faster than she thought. She rushed out of Harry’s bedroom, down the stairs, and out the door, before she even had time to write a little note. She fully intended on doing that but it was too late. It was time to put it all behind her. Maybe this was going to get Harry out of her system once and for all.

But she could be dumb at times.

. . .

Instead of coming clean to Jimmy right away, she broke down the moment she got into her bedroom. She regretted everything. The way she handled Jimmy. The way she gave in to Harry. The way she left Harry without saying goodbye.

What was she thinking? She was too young to be going through a midlife crisis but she was at an age where she needed to grow up and start making big girl decisions. Settle down with a good man. Jimmy was surely that man. A normal guy. Someone in her league. But maybe she so easily gave in to Harry because Jimmy still had his dating profile active and that stayed with her in the back of her mind. Their casual dating relationship meant they were allowed to see who they wanted.

But Harry was… There was something there. Something else that she didn’t have with Jimmy. That she wasn’t sure she’d ever have. But that was why she needed to cut it out with the famous man. He was famous. He was exceptional in so many ways and there was simply no way he’d feel for her what she felt for him. He was too good to be true.

The messages from both men continued through the day. She shut her phone off when she got to work. She just couldn't face it. Couldn’t deal with it. Tomorrow. She’d figure it out tomorrow. Explain everything to Jimmy and to Harry. Harry would be okay. She knew he would be. He’d probably felt relief that she didn’t stay in fact. Made it easier for him so he didn’t have to break it to her that that should be their last time together. Though, she hadn’t read any of the messages he sent (she simply couldn’t bring herself to) she was sure he would be the easy one to deal with. Jimmy, though… She hoped he’d forgive her. But she knew she needed to call it off with Jimmy as well. Nice enough, a great guy for just about anyone. But maybe not for her. Especially not when she couldn’t stop comparing him to Harry. So she’d made up her mind. She’d call Jimmy the following day and sort things out with him. Tell him they had a good run and then that would be that.

But sometimes things in life don’t always go as one imagines. Do they?

With her phone shut off, she had missed the calls and the subsequent texts from both men. She had not realized that they’d both texted her that they were going to be waiting for her at her house when she got home because they needed to talk. She had not imagined pulling up to her little rented bungalow to see three men standing in her front yard.

There was Brad, mediating the whole scene, standing between the two men she’d been ignoring for the entirety of the day.

Then there was Jimmy with a red face and posture that told her he was feeling quite insecure about something. Of which she was sure she had a good idea.

And there was Harry. Pacing. With his hands in his hair and his mouth moving as he said something that had him excited.

The three men suddenly stopped as she pulled in front of the house. All three sets of eyes on her. She had been avoiding simply responding to them. Assuming she’d have time to get her thoughts together. But now she had no choice. She was being forced to confront them.

Harry began to walk toward her car first. But then Jimmy followed too. Both men spoke to one another animatedly as she opened the door.

“Nahh… back off man,” Harry spoke to Jimmy but kept his eyes toward Y/n.

“No. I’m not going to back off…” Jimmy quickened his pace when he noticed she’d gotten out of her car.

“Y/n…” Brad spoke over the two bickering adults, “You probably have some explaining to do to these two. Do you mind taking over here?”

“I… yeah. Of course. I’m so sorry, Brad.” She looked between the three men as Brad waved and walked back into the house.

Jimmy’s face was bright red, “Y/n, tell him we’ve been dating. He seems to think you are his girlfriend.”

Looking at Harry she opened her mouth to respond but stopped at the insinuation that Harry implied she was his girlfriend.

Girlfriend?

Stepping into her yard Harry stood in front of her and then Jimmy next to him both men looking at her in question.

“Uh… I’m… I don’t know what to say. I’ve been dating Jimmy,” she gestured at the man and looked at Harry, “but we’re not exclusive, and then… Well, I saw Harry last night,” she stuttered her words. Her heart was pounding. She was not looking like a good person in this situation. But it was too late now.

“I don’t care that you were dating someone. What happened between us last night… that meant something to you. Didn’t it?” Harry spoke as he gently brushed his fingers against hers, a little spark of life, a signal that he was there and she was safe with him.

She was a bit stunned by all this. Hadn’t expected Harry to say that. Hadn’t expected to see both men in her yard, apparently arguing over her.

“But we’ve been dating for almost 2 months. I think she and I have something special. And I know we haven’t specifically said we were exclusive but–“

“Well, I’ve known her for nearly… what 5, 6 months now?” Harry looked at her as he spoke.

Y/n stood still looking from Harry to Jimmy who continued, “So what is it? Are you with me or are you with him? I didn’t know you were dating someone else.” He was flustered. In comparison to Harry, he was not calm nor gentle.

“I… I’m sorry,” She shook her head and felt her face grow hot and her head dizzy. She was embarrassed.

There wasn’t anything else to say. Except that she was sorry. She really had liked Jimmy. But with the way she folded so fast with Harry, she knew she didn’t like Jimmy as much as she assumed. Because all Harry had to do was say a few nice things to her to get her back to his place and in his bed. She was a weak bitch. What could she say except sorry?

“Look. I’m sorry. Both of you. I have some explaining to do and I was going to… but why are you both here?”

“I came here to talk about this morning with you, Y/n. You left without goodbye and didn’t respond to my texts,” Harry spoke first.

“And you didn’t text me back last night when I thought we were making plans. I was worried about you.”

Blinking her eyes she realized without a doubt, that she was the heavy here. The rotten one. This was all her fuckup. Both men came to find her because she’d blown them both off. Ran away from her problems.

But she fully intended on being truthful. She just needed a minute.

“Fuck.” She cursed and ran a hand through her hair. “I was going to talk to you both. I just… I don’t know. I felt bad that I flaked out on you, Jimmy. I was never going to meet up with you last night after work and I should have told you that off the bat. And I was going to tell you but then I saw Harry and… I just felt guilty so I figured I’d apologize later.”

“That’s… kind of fucked up, Y/n,” Jimmy said as he put his hands on his hips.

She nodded and looked at him. He was upset, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“And so you didn’t want to come see me last night because of him?” He gestured toward the man standing to his left.

Shaking her head she looked from Jimmy to Harry, “No. Before I even realized Harry was at the restaurant for dinner I planned on just going back home after my shift. I just never got around to telling you that. I didn’t want to see you last night.”

“But you went back to Harry’s house?” Jimmy asked.

She sighed, nodding, “Yes. I didn’t plan on it. It just happened.”

The silence was all-consuming. Y/n didn’t want to look at Jimmy’s disappointed face any longer so she glanced at Harry whose energy was opposite of Jimmy's. He was all soft eyes with a gentle expression. Comforting. She smiled at him. He felt safe.

“Okay. Fair enough,” Jimmy spoke suddenly, “So that’s it? Should I expect to hear from you again or…” he shrugged and looked at her hoping to hear something that gave him anything to hang on to.

Should he expect to hear from her? She liked him. She really did. But she could see it now that she didn’t like him enough. Even if perhaps she and Harry didn’t wind up together, the way she fell into Harry’s bed so easily and the way she lit up at Harry’s smile in that moment. The way he made her feel… it was over with Jimmy. She’d never feel that way with him.

“I think that’s it. Yeah. I’m sorry, Jimmy. I’m not sure what I was thinking but… I think this has run its course. I’m sorry,” she shook her head at the whole situation. She felt awful. Jimmy had been nothing but kind. But she just wasn’t feeling it she guessed. Not when she was feeling so much more with Harry.

She watched Jimmy walk away to his car and felt Harry’s hands pull at hers, “It meant something. Didn’t it?”

Looking up at the tall man in confusion she responded, “What?”

“Last night. I know you left without saying anything but now I get it. You were feeling guilty about that bloke. Right?”

Swallowing thickly she nodded, “Yeah… I just… I don’t know why I went back with you but it felt natural and this morning I was overwhelmed with guilt and didn’t really know what you wanted. You know?” She raised her brows and continued, “You’re… you. You’re Harry Styles. I’m just… me. Felt like I was playing some silly game with myself that was just gonna get me hurt.”

Harry’s hands cupped her face softly, “No games. I like you a lot. Couldn’t stay away from you. Last night felt like the beginning of something really special and I hoped you felt it too.”

She stayed silent as she looked into his eyes. His warm hands on her skin felt soft and tender. His thumbs grazed her cheekbones and she felt it. She did. She knew exactly what he meant. To hear him say it, though…

“I need to know what that means for you. Because, yeah. I felt it. I just don’t want to get hurt, Harry. You’re gonna go back on tour and you’ll see your ex and some other woman and I’m gonna get left behind again–“

“My ex? I didn’t see my ex. Nor do I have plans for that,” he laughed softly as he spoke.

“Well, I mean… I did see her post about crossing paths with someone and that cross necklace,” she shook her head and felt silly for even bringing it up as she looked at the expression on Harry’s face.

“She called me and I answered. She thought that meant something but really it was just me being nice. I don’t miss her at all. Have no intention of seeing her again on any level.”

She nodded at his words, “And the pretty woman that was with you on tour. Lots of rumors there too. Which is fine! You’re totally allowed to see other–“

Harry pulled her in close, stopping her mid-sentence, “She’s a friend. Someone I trust who I can vent to and confide in. She gave me lots of advice about you, angel. Told me to go after you. Told me she hadn’t seen me so excited about anyone ever before. I couldn’t stop talking about you.”

“So, you never slept with her?”

Harry shook his head and fit his fingers between hers, blinking softly, “Never. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Now she felt really bad. He’d been missing her and thinking of her all the while she was off with Jimmy trying to erase Harry from her mind, “I had no idea. I’m sorry that I didn’t… I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I admit, I didn’t try hard enough to stay in touch. That’s on me. But I don’t want that to ever happen again.”

“But now you must really think I’m trash. After all that?”

Harry shook his head, squeezing her hand, “Not at all, angel. I want to be with you. Don’t want you with anyone else, though,” he laughed, “And I’m not gonna think about whatever you had going on with that guy because you were just trying to get to know someone else. You thought it was over with us. But I don’t want it to be over. I want it to be me and you.”

She stood stunned. She just hadn’t expected any of this but it was more than she could have hoped for. She genuinely thought she’d misread all the signs. Yes, last night it felt like intimacy and deep connection but figured that was all coming from her end. She had tricked herself into believing he didn’t feel the same.

“Well? What do you think? Would you want to be my girlfriend? Make it official?”

She swallowed the grit down her throat and blinked her eyes at Harry. It all felt like a dream. Surely it was a dream.

“I do want that. So much, but…” she shook her head just as Harry grinned wide.

“So you’re my girlfriend now?”

Y/n puffed out a laugh and nodded, “I guess so. Yeah.” She couldn’t tamper her smile.

Harry released one of her hands and gently held the back of her neck as he leaned down to kiss her. And just like every other time her lips connected with his, she felt flushed and buzzy. Her skin prickled with excitement. Her sinuses burned as she held back stupid tears.

But she needed to say something else. And if this fiasco had taught her anything it was that she needed to be better at communicating.

Parting from the kiss, Harry kept her in his arms as she tilted her head to look up at him, “But what happens when you leave again, Harry? To another city? Another country? What does that mean for us?”

He brought his lips to her forehead before looking down at her again, his crystalline green eyes taking her in. He inhaled a deep breath, a serious expression on his face suddenly that had Y/n worried about the next words he was going to speak, “Come with me.”

He squeezed her closer if that were possible and she opened and closed her mouth a few times, shocked at his words and at what was happening. It was crazy, wasn’t it? To just leave everything behind and travel with Harry wherever he went? Surely this was just a beautiful dream she’d be waking from at any minute.

Harry shook his head and the edge of his pink lips quirked up on one side, “I won’t take no for an answer.”

A/N: This is the last part of this series! What did you guys think? Would you like to see some more of these two? Thank you so much for reading!

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ode2rin · 11 months

Text

and i do, promise

pairing. itoshi sae x gn!reader

genre. fluff | a bit of comfort | established relationship | soft!sae (._.)

in which: you and sae had a talk about your non-negotiables in your future married life.

“and i think we need a dog or a cat, a big fluffy one who will follow me everywhere because it has separation anxiety,” you exclaimed, turning to your lover from where he was sitting.

you and your boyfriend of five years were having one of your conversations about settling down. it wasn't a new topic between the two of you, and you appreciated that he was the one who often brought it up. after you welcomed him home, he would ask you questions about your vision for the future.

tonight, he asked you what your non-negotiables were.

given who he is, it always makes you happy that your lover, itoshi sae, was always the one who started these conversations. he respected your wishes of not being a fan of surprises or grand proposals. you remembered how he had brought it up on the night of your fifth anniversary, seemingly out of the blue, which was so unlike him.

“you woke me up just to ask if i want to marry you?”

“yeah, but i’m not saying it has to be now. only when you’re ready —”

“the answer is yes. now shut up and let me sleep, sae.”

the morning after, he asks you one more time, while handing you your coffee he made. just to be sure he heard you right, he says. and once again, you gave him the same answer you did when you were still drowsy.

and that's how you found yourself babbling to him about the pet of your dreams, while sae listened attentively, finding your excitement infectious. he thought it was oddly specific, but for now, he simply replied, “sure…” because he loved the way your eyes sparkled, knowing how thrilled you were to spend your life with him.

you are this excited to start a life with him, while sae would not even think for a moment that there's someone on this earth who can tolerate him for more than an hour (his manager made that very apparent).

yet here you were, wanting him for life. to itoshi sae, that's as bizarre as the idea of cars flying around.

so who was he to deny any of your requests? anything you had in mind, he'll get it done. pronto, if he could.

“how about our taxes, love? i don't think i can do that,” you shyly admitted, approaching him. sae instinctively tapped his lap, silently inviting you to sit.

besides, with his net worth, you're not even sure if it could be managed by one person. let alone by you.

“i'll take care of that,” he said while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. you beam at his reply.

what was the point of having all that money if you had to stress over the mundane? if it were up to sae, he would tell you to simply focus on loving him, in which he would never since he thinks that it’s such a loser thing to say.

“and i want a house by the beach,” you continued, “it doesn't have to be big, but i want it to have big windows and a balcony where you can spend your days off looking at the sea.”

“why?” sae asked curiously, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

you looked at him, a mixture of surprise and conviction on your face. “because you love the sea, and i happen to love you, so it's non-negotiable, sae.”

sae doesn't need a mirror to know his own eyes softened at what you said. Ever since you broke your way into his life, you've done nothing but melt his cold heart with your warm smiles.

he thinks you got him down so bad, yet what's even funnier, he doesn't even see himself getting back right up.

“but how about you?” you whispered softly, your gaze shifting to his hands intertwined with yours, “what's on your mind?”

you.

he’s thinking of how five years with you made him believe that a lifetime wouldn't be enough time to love you.

just you and him, looking at the sea from the balcony of your soon to be shared home. the image of waking up beside you every morning, making your coffee before you wake up, doing laundry and taxes with you — just the mere thought of sharing a life with you, all of it were consuming his thoughts.

sae would not be able to explain to his younger self how someone like him could be loved like this. younger itoshi sae would think he's such a lukewarm loser if he had known how the older sae couldn't even take a nap without you by his side, gently scratching his nape. how older sae struggles in overseas games now because he misses the weight of your head on his arm and the feeling of your breath on his neck when he cuddles you to sleep.

and most of all, the younger itoshi sae would have never, ever imagined asking someone to marry him.

yet here he is, making a mental note of your requests. from the oddly specific fluffy pet down to your shared home, he had it memorized.

but as much as sae would dare to give you the world, to provide you with the best life imaginable, he knew that there would always be moments of challenge.

because sae knows, he knows for sure – that the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with him.

the constant presence of the press, the strains of long-distance, and the voices of people who didn't truly know him beyond his performances on the field would always be there, trying to interfere with your relationship.

and above all, sae's own flaws and bad habits would always unintentionally make their presence known.

your itoshi sae, who can give you the world, yet can only give you this much.

would that be fine? would that be enough? do you really want that to be your reality all these years to come? sae needs to know.

and so with a gulp, sae turned his head away from you and mustered the courage to ask the question that weighed heavily on his heart.

“are you fine with me giving you a life of fixing bad habits through arguments?”

as the words left his lips, sae felt your hand pause its gentle caress of his knuckles. it felt as if time stood still, and his heart skipped a beat, fearful of your response.

please.

suddenly, sae found himself entranced by the weight of his necklace, the sleek chain pulling at his consciousness. its significance weighed heavily upon him, for nestled within it was a ring he had bought two years ago that he recently put in his necklace before coming home to you.

one might say that it was an impulsive purchase. but to sae, he knew it all along that he belongs to you. the ring was just a mere material of his love.

as the tension mounted, sae's shoulders grew even more tense, his every nerve on edge. he felt your sudden shift on his lap, and his heart skipped a beat. moments later, your hands gently cupped his jaw, guiding his gaze to meet yours.

“will you choose us in every single argument?”

us.

you and him.

it’s enough and more.

in that moment, a part of you knew that you didn't even need his verbal confirmation, for it was written in the depths of his captivating teal eyes. you both would choose each other, time and time again.

“only if you promise me that it's you and me against the problem, and it's never you against me,” you implored, the raw emotion in your voice resonating with his heart. “forget the pet, the house, and the taxes. this, sae. this is my non-negotiable.”

sae stared at you, his gaze unwavering, for what felt like an eternity. eventually, he reached for your left hand, which rested on his cheek. with utmost tenderness, he lifted it, bringing it eye level with both of your faces. closing his eyes, he pressed his lips against your knuckles, lingering a little longer on your ring finger.

“i promised to meet all of your terms, didn’t i? i promise you everything, anything,” he vowed, “you have my word for it, y/n.”

the sincerity of his words made your face flush with warmth. after all these years, he never failed to make you swoon. you wrapped both of your arms around his neck, pulling him closer into an embrace. nuzzling against his neck, you whispered, “do you promise?”

“with my damn life.”

a smile graced your lips as you nestled against him. “good. now, what are your terms for me, mr. itoshi?”

feeling his lips press against your temple, you relished in the tenderness of his touch. sae reached into his shirt, retrieving something from his necklace. your eyes followed his movements, and you gasped as you felt a cold band sliding onto your ring finger. looking up, you saw sae smiling lovingly at you.

“wear this all the time, and the one after this,” as sae's words lingered in the air, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a delicate and tender kiss.

with a soft sigh, sae pulled away ever so slightly, his eyes locked with yours, their depths shimmering with adoration. the ghost of a smile played upon his lips as he savored the moment, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek, tracing the contours of your face.

“that's my only non-negotiable.”

note. shit writing because i hate him. i swear i’ll fight him i swear swear swear. in case, i haven’t said it enough, i hate him. bye.

#☁️ my ode to you #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi sae fluff #itoshi sae x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi

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void-ink-studios · 6 months

Text

Wrath of the Wishmaster

You asked, you shall receive.

Thanks for helping me clear my writer's block. I might write more scenes that happened prior to this, but enjoy what's here for now! Might post to AO3 later, who knows?

Enjoy babes!

Word count: 2,500

There were many things Scarab did not understand about the Wishmaster, Prismo. Many… Many things.

Why did an all powerful being decide to spend its eternity making pickles and writing fan fiction of the universes he observed? Why, of all things to add to the featureless Time Cube, was there a hot tub?

And why, above all, did he tolerate all of Scarab's... strangeness?

Because no one liked bugs.

That was the lesson Scarab had learned in his eons of existence.

No one liked bugs. At least, not the kind of bug he was.

Of course, people like butterflies. They liked to watch the pretty and dainty little things as they flutter along. But only from a distance. People still recoiled if they got a good look at their face. Or anything that reminded them that they’re bugs, and not just living little splashes of color.

And Scarab was no butterfly.

He was a beetle. Was? Is? He wasn’t sure anymore. So much of himself had changed since he first emerged from his burrow.

And yet, there was Prismo, calling his little chirps and trills "cute." Encouraging him to find places in the Time Room to burrow and hide and crawl.

There was Prismo, who didn't recoil at the site of his real face. Who saw his strange mouth and eyes and decided to kiss it all over, rather than hide it behind his mask again.

So no, he did not understand many of how Prismo operated. But Scarab was not about to complain. He felt more alive in his own shell than he has in eons. He kept his mask off more often than on these days. His hidden arms had seen more exercise than ever before. He was starting to remember the strange language of chirps and trills and buzzes from his old home.

Of course, there were still bad days. Days where he had to sit still and stare at something stationary just to remember what direction was up. Days where he crawled away into one of his hidden nooks to tremble out of sight.

He had been reluctant to let Prismo in on those days, at first. He held up walls and scooted away and flinched enough to get the Wishmaster to back off for quite a while.

But, as he came back into contact with himself, and as Prismo called him beautiful and quirky, rather than disgusting and unsettling, the walls came down.

He wasn't ready to tell him what happened to his antenna and wings. But, Prismo was at least there to turn the screen wall to something calming. Or to rub his aching back and shoulders on days where he could do little else but shake.

It was... nice. He hesitated to call it wonderful, but it really was. Much better than a bug deserved, but he was not about to remind Prismo of that.

No, he had Orbo to do that for him.

He knew he had grown far too comfortable with Prismo when he heard the orb roll into the Time Room, loudly calling for his buddy the Wishmaster. Who was not currently there, but instead tending to his pickles for the moment. He trusted Scarab to watch the main room for any wishers, which he had been doing diligently from his perch on the ceiling.

Scarab froze, stuck to the ceiling like he was pinned there.

Maybe if I don't move, he won't notice I'm here.

It was a nice thought. But when had the universe been nice to him before?

"Uhm... Scarab? Mate? Whatcha doing up there? I thought we cleared up a while back that that creeped people out."

Scarab stayed silent as he crawled back down the wall. He ignored the way Orbo visibly shivered at his method of locomotion, standing at attention once his feet touched the floor.

He unconsciously made a nervous, light buzzing sound, his mouth parts clicking together as the orb stared at him like a disection project.

"So, what's all this then? You think just because Prismo's not here, you can do whatever you want? I thought we talked about this forever ago, Scrabs. You might be just a bug, but you got raised to the pantheon. You gotta act like it."

Orbo rolled to look around the Time Room. Scarab reached gingerly for the remote, trying to alert Prismo to their visitor.

"Seriously, I still feel bad enough for Prismo to get stuck looking at you when you were at your best. If he's stuck with you, it's the least you could do to not creep the guy out. That's not how you show appreciation, Scrabs."

Scarab tried to tune it out. He wasn't creepy, not to Prismo, Prismo called him beautiful, insect traits and all. Orbo swung around to look at him, now noticing his face.

"Where's your mask, man? No one wants to see the horror show your kind calls a mouth. It's bad enough when we have to watch you eat, you can at least put the rest of it away."

Scarab felt small. Tiny. Just like he did when he first met Orbo, who took one look at him, and decided he wasn't meant for the glittery Judgement Hall. He barely even noticed when he shuffled the plates back over his face.

"Much better. So, where's Prismo then? Not like I came all this way to talk to you, right?"

Orbo laughed. Scarab didn't. He just kept his eyes trained to the floor, still quietly chirping to steady his nerves. His world started to feel tilted. What he wouldn't do for his cane right now.

"Cut it with the noise, mate. It's like you've forgotten you're a god or something. You want to go back to the dirt? Is that it? I can talk to Boss for you, if that's what you want."

"...No. That won't be necessary."

"That's what I thought. Now, where in Glob's name- Oh, Prismo! Buddy, there you are!"

Scarab didn't look up to acknowledge the Wishmaster's presence. He felt so tiny. Just like a gross little bug pinned to the wall.

"...What are you doing here, Orbo?"

That made Scarab look up. Prismo's tone. All the warmth had been sucked out of his voice. There was an edge to it. One that the beetle had never heard before, not even during the whole Fionna and Cake disaster.

"Aw, mate, can't I just come check on my good buddy? It's been ages since your last party, man. Us at the office are just itching to groove again. We'd love to see you!"

Prismo's expression was unreadable. Scarab wasn't used to not being able to read the Wishmaster, he was usually an open book. The blue eye shifted between Orbo and Scarab subtly.

"Just haven't been in the partying mood, Orbo. I've been having some friends over for board games, I guess, but I'm not planning on a party any time soon."

The star core seemed to catch Prismo's shifting glance, turning his attention back to Scarab. The beetle stood ramrod straight. Partially to not draw attention to himself and partially to prevent his body from shaking on uncertain legs.

"Oh. Prismo, buddy, why didn't you say anything sooner?" Orbo rolled back over to Scarab, smirking.

"Say what sooner?"

"That this dude was killing the vibe in here! I mean, I totally get it, I wouldn't want a party either if that was lurking in my place somewhere."

Prismo's expression hardened.

"Scarab's not 'killing the vibe' Orbo. He's been nice to have around, he plays board games with me, Cos, and Death."

Orbo rolled his eyes.

"Prismo, you're cool. You don't have to keep it quiet for his sake. Just say the word and I'll find something else to do with him. It's not the first time he failed to learn a lesson."

"I'm not keeping anything quiet. I like having him around. He's actually pretty cool when he's got the space outside of work, and you're being, like, really uncool, Orbo."

Scarab was stunned. He'd been the only one to ever really talk back to Orbo. He'd never expect someone to do it on his behalf.

"What? Me, uncool? Pris, c'mon, mate. You're allowed to say he's creepy, we all know it. He's a bug. You know, those little creepy crawlies? I thought I trained most of the creepy stuff out of him by now. I know you're everybody's buddy, but you really need to make sure the lesson stays in his head if you don't want him weirding you out. Like, I came in here and he was on the ceiling! Looked like a ghost or something. And without his mask! I thought I made it clear his face is a horror show. Thank Glob I got him to put it back on before you had to see it, bud. It's a real doozy, I'll tell ya."

The beetle wasn't looking at Orbo anymore. No, he was watching the growing horror on Prismo's face. Horror not directed at him for once.

"Dude, Scarab's not that bad. A bit uptight when he's stressed, but still a pretty cool dude. Why should he have to hide so much? This is the Time Room, you're supposed to relax in here."

"Oh, Prismo, you sweet dream child. Scarab's not cool. He's not like us, you know?"

"Like us?"

"Buddy, you're the dream of one of the greatest living wizards in the multiverse! I'm the core of a collapsed magic star! That's where gods like us are supposed to come from! Scarab though? He's just a bug. A creepy crawly cockroach that somehow made it up from the dirt he's meant for."

"Didn't he manage to take down a galactic level threat that you couldn't catch?"

"He got lucky." Orbo looked annoyed. That usually ended well for no one. "Knew I should've finished his punishment before he came here..."

"I thought this was his punishment."

"Oh, no, I'm talking about his punishment for trying to start a revolt. Went over my head to the Boss! All over that nonsense with that unauthorized universe of yours. I was gonna take his legs. Maybe should've pulled out his other arms as well. I still can, if you wanted me to, mate."

The silence in the Time Room was deafening. Scarab has seen a lot of expressions on the Wishmaster's face. Contentment, sadness, boredom, amusement, joy, frustration, all of it.

But he had never seen rage. Not until now, anyway.

"What?"

Orbo seemed to completely miss the change in atmosphere, as he carried on just as before. "Oh yeah, it seems to be the only way he actually learns. Thought the antenna would be enough, but nooo, Mr. Buggy Bigshot still thought himself better. I really thought the thing with the wings would've gotten through to him, but I guess not."

The lights in the Time Room went out. Not even the stars from the void outside shed much light into the cube. Scarab never thought he'd miss the sickeningly bright yellow of the Time Cube, but he's permanently paint his shell its color if it would turn the lights back on.

"You. Did. WHAT?"

There was a guttural hiss coming from where Prismo once was. Blue what replaced by a bright purplish pink, staring down at Orbo and Scarab. A friendly smile was replaced with jagged teeth. Fingers replaced with claws. And a growl rumbled through the cube.

Scarab didn't think. Just acted. He opened himself a passage into the lower levels of the Time Room, scurrying in as fast as his legs could carry him. He could faintly hear Orbo yelling after him, but he ignored it completely. The adrenaline let him ignore the pain, ignore the feeling of constantly tipping over. All his instincts told him was run and hide.

He crammed himself into one of his many makeshift burrows, backing as far into the hole as possible.

Prismo was angry, he knew that much. Anger meant pain. Anger meant he'd lose another piece of himself. What would it be this time, he wondered.

It didn't matter he knew Prismo would never hurt him. It didn't matter he knew he probably couldn't be hurt like that while in this form. All he knew was to curl up and hide.

And so he did.

He shook, in fear and pain, and waited. For what, he wasn't sure. But he didn't dare come out of his cubby.

So he waited.

He didn't know how long it was until he felt the familiar tingle of light against his back. He flinched, a frightened trill falling unwillingly from his throat.

"...Scarab? Sweetheart, are you there?"

...At least he sounded like Prismo again...

"...Yes... Yes, I'm here."

"Good, good. I... I'm sorry you had to see me like that. I don't like what I am when I'm like that but... What Orbo was saying... Your wings..."

Scarab felt his elytra twitch under Prismo's touch. The ragged scraps of wings shivered as well, as the beetle sighed out a soft little chirp.

"...It is the way of things, Prismo... Orbo is not the only one with thoughts like that. It's what I've been taught for eons. No one likes bugs, after all."

There was a long silence after that. Prismo was looking at him with a sad calmness. He reached his other arm into the hole, petting a hand over the parts of his face he could reach under the mask. The bug shivered pitifully into the touch, trying and failing to resist the urge to lean into it.

"...You deserve better, Scrabby."

That's what did it. That's what broke the dam.

Scarab wept into Prismo's hand, shaking hard enough to make his carapace rattle.

"Shh... It's okay, honey... Can you come out here?"

It was slow. Almost painfully so. But he managed to peek his head out of his hiding spot. The Wishmaster gave him a kind smile, if not a sad one.

"Can you let me see you, beautiful?"

Scarab hesitated. Orbo's words echoed in his head, loudly, cruelly.

"...I'm not pleasant to look at, Prismo... Much less beautiful..."

"Nope. Not true, Scrabby. C'mon. Let me see that pretty face of yours."

"Prismo..."

"Please, Scarab?"

The beetle sighed. His face plates shivered again, tucking behind his head. His eyes stared, wide and wet at the Wishmaster. A soft kiss was planted on his forehead.

"There we go. Much better."

Scarab refused to start bawling again. Instead, he climbed the rest of the way out of his burrow to curl against Prismo's chest.

"You don't have to worry about Orbo anymore, by the way. He won't be coming back. Not for a few eons, at least."

Scarab didn't choose to question it. Not right now at least. Instead, he closed his eyes as Prismo's hand pet gently over his aching back, the beetle unconsciously opening up the elytra. The dream's hands were always careful when working around his sorry wings. They made the ache go away.

Scarab began chirping. Softly, at first. But it slowly grew, morphing into a simple, but filling cricket song. He heard Prismo softly join in with a light humming.

He might've been just a bug.

But it turns out at least one person likes bugs after all.

#prohibitedwish #scarab the god auditor #prismo the wishmaster #scarab x prismo #prohibitedwish fanfic #wrath of the wishmaster

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leejihoonownsmyheart · 2 years

Text

More Than Friends (M)

Summary:

When Jeonghan starts acting weird, you start having trouble remembering that you and Jeonghan are just friends.

Reads gender neutral except for the anatomy

Warnings: Creampie :l, unsafe sex, rough sex, cunnilingus, fingering, teasing, not sure what else to add

You weren’t sure when it happened, but eventually you had started to think of Jeonghan as… Something more than a friend.

You had been friends with him for as long as you remembered and in the past the thought of dating him had been laughable. After all you figured you barely tolerated Jeonghan. He teased you relentlessly, and he was so touchy and clingy that the thought of you two being anything else was strange.

Your relationship had always been the same. Frustratingly close, and perfectly content with how things were.

Jeonghan had gone through his fair share of significant others, and you had too. Some found you twos relationship strange. Others saw it for what it was. Two people who got along and had always been together and didn’t really want that to change.

It was sometime around the middle of Jeonghan’s relationship with his most recent flame, a super sweet girl named Seungah that your feelings for him started to change. He didn’t usually date girls like her. He dated girls he argued with, someone that could challenge him, but Seungah was none of those things. Quiet, shy, agreeable. She didn’t like conflict very much.

Maybe that was what had triggered it. While Jeonghan was always nice to the people he dated he wasn’t quite like how he was with Seungah. He treated her like a princess.

It was odd, to feel the tinge of jealousy when he touched her, his hand falling light on her head as he bid her farewell for the day. He was so careful with her.

Of course, they ended up parting ways. The use of flame before was no poor choice of words. His relationships didn’t last long but Seungah had been the longest. You remembered one of the times he had met up with you and he had just been getting off the phone with her.

“Wow still Seungah? Seems like someone is ready to settle down.”

The look in Jeonghan’s eyes had been oddly serious. He hummed.

“Maybe.”

Jeonghan was always a little flirty. The people who didn’t like that didn’t make it past the first date. You had never minded it before.

But after his breakup with Seungah it was like you saw him in this completely different light.

He was sweet, how had you always taken that for granted?

Maybe he hadn’t always been like that.

You felt like he was treating you similar to how he had treated Seungah. Soft touches, small smiles, soft tone. He was still the same Jeonghan as you had known him to be.

Infuriating, teased you nonstop. But suddenly, you looked forward to it.

You and Jeonghan spent most days together and while you both enjoyed just sitting around inside watching movies and doing homework, you craved adventure sometimes. Jeonghan wasn’t the biggest fan of hiking trips, but he let you drag him on them regardless.

“Where are we again?” Jeonghan asked. You glanced at him, taking note of his overly dramatic expression of distaste. He had sunglasses on and a frown on his lips, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Almost there,” you replied. He hummed and reached for his drink. He had complained about getting up so early as to make a stop at the coffee shop you had insisted on going to but he certainly hadn’t been complaining once he got his latte.

You turned into the parking lot and climbed out of the car. You rummaged through the back for the map of the park you were in and as you rummaged through it Jeonghan came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck.

“I don’t suppose I can convince you that we don’t need to go on this hike,” he stated plainly. You were quick to worm out of his grasp, before he could make your heart rate spike too much. Your face dusted red so you made a point of using your hand to block the sun as if it was what was causing the color.

Jeonghan didn’t seem to see your behavior as anything strange. He looked away as you began to fumble with the map.

“My mouth tastes like coffee,” you mumbled absent mindedly as you looked at the map in front of you. Jeonghan chuckled.

“There’s no way,” he said sarcastically. You looked up at him.

“It does! Want to try?”

You were just joking of course. But Jeonghan didn’t seem to care. He leaned forward his hand cupping your face, his thumb touching the corner of your lips.

“Well, if you’re offering.”

Your face turned bright red, your heart thumping in your chest as your mind screamed at you.

He’s just your friend. He’s just your friend. He’s just your-

“Stop teasing me,” you said with a roll of your eyes. You batted his hand away lightly and looked back down at your map. Jeonghan hummed, you thought there was a hint of disappointment there, but you also thought that might have been a figment of your imagination. It was hard to hear anything with your heart beating so hard.

It took you a few minutes but finally your heart rate returned to normal. Not at the help of Jeonghan who had decided he was bored and had placed his head on your shoulder to stare at the map with you.

You cleared your throat and pointed at the trail you two were closest to on the map.

“This trail is only two miles round trip, and it’s supposed to have a really pretty waterfall,” you commented softly. He hummed and you felt the vibrations run through your body.

“If that’s the trail you want to go on,” he said. “This trip is all about you love.”

In the past when Jeonghan had called you love it had meant nothing to you, but now your heart was in your throat. You wanted to tell him to call you that again, you didn’t think you could ever get sick of hearing him call you that.

You reached up and patted Jeonghan’s head, causing him to pull off of you. You got back into the car, grabbing your bag, some water and a few snacks, locking the car.

“Okay, let’s go!”

As much as Jeonghan preferred being inside with you, he actually didn’t tend to complain on hikes. He liked to look around at the plants and he enjoyed listening to you talk about the day or the mushrooms or the animals that you hoped to see but never did.

Today, he was a little different. He was walking closer to you then usual, taking glances at you when your eyes were focused on something else. You weren’t sure how you were supposed to approach it so you just focused on ignoring it the best you could until you two arrived at the waterfall.

The waterfall was large, over fifty-feet and loud. Jeonghan wandered away from you for the first time, walking up to the edge of the water to run his fingers through the water. You watched him, just thinking about how beautiful he looked in that moment.

His eyes caught yours and you took a sharp breath of air, your eyes darting to the waterfall.

“How’s the water?”

He splashed you and you yelped, your eyes returning to his.

“Hey.”

He laughed.

“You asked.”

He stood back up and wandered over to you, his fingers wrapping around your wrist.

“I’m tired,” he stated a pout riddling across his lips. You raised an amused eyebrow towards him.

“And what am I supposed to do about it?” You asked him. He dragged you over to a rock and once you had sat down on it he rested his head in your lap. Your eyes widened, your heart skipped a beat. Jeonghan didn’t notice.

His eyes were closed.

“Wake me up in an hour.”

You weren’t sure what to do with him sleeping there. You didn’t know where to put your hands, you worried your breathing wasn’t even, you wondered if he could hear your thudding heart.

You slowly lowered your hands, one behind you, one in his hair.

You remembered idly when Jeonghan used to have long hair. He had cut it only a few years ago, just tired of having to keep up with the maintenance. Either way you thought he looked really good. You had liked to play with his hair a lot when it had been longer.

You ran your fingers through his roots, looking down at him. You wondered if he was still awake or if he had already fallen asleep.

“Excuse me.”

You looked up, embarrassed at having been caught looking so closely at Jeonghan. You forced a smile on your lips as you made eye contact with the lady in front of you.

“Sorry to bother you,” she said. “Do you know how to get back to the parking lot from here? We came on the Statehood Trail and we want to go back a different way.”

You felt your heart rate slow down ever-so-slightly and your smile softened, becoming much less forced.

“We came down the Green Falls trail,” you replied, you pointed towards where you had come. “That will take you right back to the parking in half the time of the Statehood trail.”

The lady smiled in relief.

“Bless your heart,” she said. She waved you a small good bye, and walked a few feet only to stop and look back at you. “You and your boyfriend are just so cute.”

Color rose to your face as you scrambled to correct the misunderstanding.

“Oh we-“

“My husband and I used to be just like you two,” she laughed. “Couldn’t keep our hands off one another.”

You tried again to find the words to tell this lady that you and Jeonghan weren’t dating but before you could even figure out what you were going to say you were interrupted again.

“You two have been talking for a long time. Should I get jealous?”

You looked down at Jeonghan in time to notice he had popped one eye open to look at you. The lady giggled at what Jeonghan had said.

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it!” And before another word could be said she was making her way towards the trail.

“She left before we could really sell it,” Jeonghan said, a small pout flickering across his face. He sat up and then turned around so that he was facing you, his legs entangled with yours. He leaned in close to you, so close that your breaths intermingled.

“Do you think she’s still looking?”

Jeonghan’s eyes flickered down to your lips causing your heart to begin to race again. You didn’t know how he could keep doing this. How he could get so close to you and get so close to kissing you and somehow manage to not follow through with it.

You cleared your throat, breaking eye contact and looking back over to the waterfall. You took a few large breaths trying to calm your heart.

“We should get back to hiking don’t you think?”

The rest of your hike went on without incident. Jeonghan was still a little touchy, but nothing you weren’t used to. You thought that maybe something had been in the air that day and that was the reason that Jeonghan had felt the need to tease you so much. You tried your best to keep your relationship just like it had always been.

“Hey, hey, hey.”

You looked behind you as Jeonghan rushed up to you from within a crowd of students. He grabbed your hand. That wasn’t too out of character. You and Jeonghan held hands a lot. It was just normally you who initiated it.

“What’s up?” You asked. “I was going to study at the library.”

“I just saw Ryu,” Jeonghan hissed back. “Play along okay?”

Ryu was one of Jeonghan’s exes. One of the ones he was always in competition with. He liked to pretend that they were both trying to one up the other. Half the photos he posted on instagram were just to make her miss him.

Jeonghan quickly dragged you to the wall, pinning you against it. Your breath hitched as he glanced over his shoulder, presumably looking for Ryu.

His eyes flickered back to you and once again he closed the distance between you, you two were so close, your lips almost touching.

“I’m going to kiss you now okay?”

He hesitated and that was when something clicked in your head, reminding you that you had to abort mission.

You ducked out from under Jeonghan’s arm, sticking your tongue back at him from over your shoulder playfully.

“What are you trying to play at?” You asked with a roll of your eyes. “Ryu knows that we are just friends. No one would believe we were dating.”

Jeonghan’s body deflated a little bit, his shoulder drooping as his hands dropped to his sides.

“Yeah that’s true.”

He wasn’t making it easy to keep your feelings in check.

“Love.”

You looked up from your book to see Jeonghan, rather dramatically walking towards you. He dropped his bag on the floor and practically collapsed against you. His forehead rested on your shoulder and he let out a whine. You set your book down, instinctively raising your hands to his hair. When your fingers buried in his roots he leaned back to look at you.

“I missed you,” he mumbled.

You and Jeonghan hadn’t seen one another in a week. You had been really busy and he had been out of town anyways for an internship he was doing. You hadn’t expected to see him that day. If he was here he would have had to drive four straight hours and come straight to you instead of going back to his apartment.

“How was your internship?” You asked. He rolled his eyes.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he replied. His eyes flickered to your lips again. “I just really missed you.”

You resisted the urge to look at his lips. You resisted the urge to lean down and kiss him. Instead you cleared your throat looking over to where your book had been. Jeonghan barely missed a beat. He let out an exaggerated groan and rested his head against your shoulder again.

“I’m not leaving again.”

You nodded, running your fingers through his hair comfortingly, trying your best not to think about how close he had been to kissing you once again.

“Of course you’re not.”

And it just continued like that. At first the instances of almost kissing had been hard to manage, had made your heart race, but eventually you got really good at avoiding it.

You cracked jokes, you pretended to suddenly be concerned about something else, you just pretended as if he wasn’t abnormally close.

The more that you curbed the behavior the more frustrated Jeonghan got around you. He was always making excuses to be close to you, his game of almost kissing you becoming a habit that… Honestly you looked forward to.

You tried not to overthink the reason why Jeonghan had started acting like this. In the end it didn’t really matter why he was doing it. What mattered was that you two were friends. Just friends. And to think that suddenly you two would be something else was just hopeful thinking.

“Spider-Man?” Jeonghan asked, raising an eyebrow at you as you shuffled back over to him on the couch. “You know you have a problem when you own a movie that came out last year on bluray.”

You rolled your eyes as you joined him on the couch sitting so close that your shoulders brushed. Jeonghan seemed to think there was still too much space between you. He draped his arm over your shoulder scooting you even closer to him.

“It’s a good movie, arrest me,” you replied plainly. Jeonghan’s body vibrated beside you.

“I would love to see you in handcuffs,” Jeonghan said. “But now isn’t really the time is it?”

Your face reddened but you played it off with a laugh.

“Shut up and watch the movie.”

You weren’t really sure at what point of the movie Jeonghan had put his hand on your thigh but what you did know for sure was that it was slowly moving upward. It was barely moving. Like maybe once every ten minutes it moved just a little bit higher but it was moving. You thought that maybe rearranging the way you two were sitting would make Jeonghan realize where his hand was but when you moved to drape your legs over his and rest your cheek on his shoulder his hand returned back to its spot. His thumb rubbing small circles just above where it was socially acceptable for him to have his hand if you two were really just friends.

You shuffled around next to Jeonghan trying to calm your racing heart. You wished that you could convincingly say that you didn’t want his hand there. That you didn’t like the way his hand was growing closer and closer to your core. But you knew that it you opened your mouth to tell him to stop, you would just tell him how badly you wanted this.

Your face was burning as hot as your chest was and you wondered if he could feel how you were burning there on your thigh too. Your fingers tightened their grip in the couch cushions as you resolved that you had to do something or else Jeonghan’s fingers were going to make it to your underwear and he was going to feel just how wet you were.

You moved yourself further up into Jeonghan’s lap, just trying to move to the other side of the couch when you brushed against his dick and froze.

He was rock hard.

Jeonghan sighed, his lips right next to your neck. You shivered at the feeling of his warm breath against your skin.

“Guess my secrets out,” he mumbled. “I want you-“ He pressed his lips to your neck. “And considering how much you’ve been enjoying my hand on your thigh, I think you want me too.”

You pressed your lips together tightly, screwing your eyes shut. Your hands balled into fists.

“Jeonghan we are friends,” you hissed. “Good friends, I don’t want to ruin that I-”

“Can’t ruin a good thing with a better thing,” Jeonghan interrupted. You could feel his smile against your neck. “But if you tell me you don’t want to do this I won’t do it. As always, it’s up to you.”

His fingers rested on your hips while he let you think about his proposal. His breathing was even, it was actually really comforting against your neck. It helped you think… Almost helped you think that is. Because the more you focused on how good it felt the more you thought about how badly you wanted Jeonghan. You wanted to kiss him, and you wanted his hands on you and you wanted to feel his cock- You just wanted him. You needed him so badly.

“I want it,” you murmured. You were so quiet that you thought there was no way he could have heard you.

“Good answer.”

Jeonghan’s fingers slid up your thighs again, this time dipping beneath your shorts. His fingers toyed at the seam of your underwear.

“I’ve been wanting you so badly,” Jeonghan mumbled. “You’re all I think about.”

His fingers dipped into your panties, and as his fingers met your folds a low, guttural moan left his lips.

“Jesus christ, do you even know what you do to me?” Jeonghan asked. He laughed almost as soon as he spoke. “Well, I guess you can feel what you do to me.”

You couldn’t help it.

“Han how big are you?”

He felt huge pressing against your ass, and you had never even begun to imagine that he would be anything above… Well average.

“I don’t want to spoil anything,” Jeonghan replied his tone light. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Your heart leaped and your breathing increased by just a hair. Jeonghan hummed against you as he dipped a finger into your pussy. He pushed his finger deep inside you, making you keel over in surprise, a moan escaping your lips. Jeonghan’s fingers drew themselves from your pussy.

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “Fucking look at this.”

He raised his fingers into your face so you could see just how wet his fingers were. They were literally dripping.

He dipped his fingers into his mouth, moaning around his fingers as he sucked them clean.

“Oh, we should have done this much sooner.”

He dipped his fingers back into your underwear.

“I know your instinct is going to be to muffle your moans,” Jeonghan mumbled. “But I need to hear you moan like I need to breathe.”

He pressed a finger deep inside you again, making you moan again. This pushed him to set a sadistic pace of slowly pushing that one finger in and out of you. Pushing his finger just deep enough to draw a moan from your lips. After a few minutes you squirmed in his lap, small tears forming in the corner of your eyes both at the pleasure of having him touch you and the desire to have him deeper inside you.

“Jeonghan, please,” you begged. “You’re teasing me too much.”

“I’m savoring this moment,” Jeonghan replied, denying that what he was doing was in fact teasing you. “It’s not often that you spend the night with a man, and I want to earn my place.”

He placed a soft kiss to your neck, and as he did a second finger slipped into you. You craned your neck so that Jeonghan had better access, yelping when he took advantage of that and sucked a hickey into your neck.

“Just for tonight, you’re mine okay?”

Your heart sank a little at the thought of only being his for the night but then his fingers pushed deep inside of you and… You forgot for a second how to even breathe.

You spread your legs a little bit, and the action allowed his finger to slip even deeper inside of you. You whined and rested your head against his, panting softly as his fingers spread a little inside of you, a warm burn running through your body because of it.

“You sound so pretty,” Jeonghan mumbled against you. “I could listen to you moan for hours and never get sick of it.”

He pushed his fingers deep inside of you a few more times, scissoring his fingers in and out of you as he did so, and after a little he pushed a third finger into you. He hummed and pulled his fingers from you.

“Open your mouth,” he whispered. You did so without hesitation and he slipped his salty fingers between your lips. “Clean them.”

You sucked his fingers clean, making a point of being much faster then him. Once he was satisfied with how clean his fingers were he slipped his fingers from your mouth and urged you to get off of him.

You didn’t need to be told what to do. You scrambled to get your clothes off, your core burning with the desire of having Jeonghan’s cock inside of you. He was quick too, to take off his own clothes, not seeming embarrassed at all as he took you by your hips and pushed you back down on the couch. His hands pressed against your thighs forcing your legs open.

“I have been dreaming of tasting you,” he mumbled. His tongue darted from his mouth to wet his lips. “Fuck.”

He leaned down and pressed his tongue between your folds. You whined as his tongue traveled from your hole to your clit and back down again, dipping briefly into your core. The most infuriating part of it all was the noises that were leaving his lips as his face was buried in your pussy. Loud, desperate moans that sent vibrations running through your body. Your hips rolled up into Jeonghan as he ate you out, making Jeonghan chuckle.

“You’re a little desperate, aren’t you?” He murmured. “I thought I was the only one who had been yearning for you but you’re making me think otherwise.”

He paused for a second, peering up at you.

“Unless, of course, you’re a whore.”

Pleasure coiled through your body, and you quickly reached down to Jeonghan, burying your fingers tightly in Jeonghan’s hair to prevent him from returning his mouth to your pussy.

“Fuck me,” you said, your voice cracking in desperation. Jeonghan’s eyebrows rose.

“Yeah? You want me to?” His tone was a little airy, like he was teasing. Your grip tightened in his hair.

“Jeonghan, I can’t wait anymore,” you said a little bit more seriously. “Please.”

Jeonghan didn’t have to be told again. He got to his feet, spitting into his hand and rubbing the saliva over his cock before getting between your legs again, lining himself up with your pussy.

“You sure?” He asked you, his voice dropping an octave.

Your mind raced. If he did this, it would change your relationship with Jeonghan completely. It wasn’t like you two would be able to just pretend like you hadn’t had sex. Would you two even stay friends after this? It would be an awkward topic with Jeonghan’s next flame.

Yeah, we fucked, but don’t worry it’s not too awkward.

You should probably say no. You should try to go back while you two still could. It would be easier to pretend like Jeonghan didn’t eat you out then it would be to pretend you two didn’t literally have sex.

But you had been fighting off feelings for Jeonghan for too long. You couldn’t bear to fight it anymore.

“I’m sure.”

Jeonghan didn’t need convincing. He batted your arms up above your head, his hands tightening around your wrists and pinning you up there just as he slid himself into you.

The stretch of his cock sliding into you burned in a way that felt so good. You pressed your head back into the couch cushions, arching your back as he slid in. His pace was slow, agonizingly so, but you knew he was just being careful not to hurt you.

And the way you were panting probably wasn’t a good indication of being okay with how Jeonghan’s cock was filling you.

He finally slowed to a stop, deeply seated within you. You were wriggling, wanting to grab something but being unable to since you were pinned down.

“Fuck, Jeonghan, I feel so full,” you mumbled. He nodded and leaned down to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“I know love, I know,” he murmured. He didn’t loosen his grip on your hands, instead he watched you with careful eyes, enjoying how you were squirming.

“You’re sadistic, Han,” you mumbled. “I just want to touch you. I need to hold you.”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes.

“Good, maybe you’ll finally know how I’ve felt these last few weeks. How badly I’ve been wanting to touch you, and hold you close and…”

His eyes flickered down to your lips again.

“I’ve been so frustrated.”

He slowly began to pull his cock from you.

“Do you know how hard I’ve been trying to get you to kiss me?” He asked. “All the fucking time, any chance I get, just trying to get you to kiss me I want you so bad.”

Your eyebrows rose briefly in surprise, but the expression disappeared when Jeonghan began to push back into you.

“But you kept acting like you didn’t know. Laughing it off and acting like you had something else to do.”

He suddenly went into you faster, his cock quickly pushing deep inside of you. You cried out in surprise.

“But I could hear your beating heart, you wanted to kiss me too.”

He didn’t give you a chance to explain, or to be surprised that he actually had been trying to kiss you. No, after that, his pace got fast. His thrusts were hard and deep and fast. You were desperate to hold onto Jeonghan. You wriggled out of his grasp and threw your arms up over his neck, tugging him closer to you.

Your eyes met, his moans soft and quiet as compared to your loud practical screams.

And then he surged forward, and his lips met yours.

You had seen it said in a show one time that the moment before the kiss, the anticipation of having your lips pressed to someone else’s was better than the actual kiss itself. But personally, you had to disagree. Your fingers dug into Jeonghan’s back as you both desperately practically inhaled one another. Jeonghan’s cruel pace didn’t cease. You couldn’t hold back anymore; the pleasure was becoming too much.

“J-Jeonghan,” you managed to get out. “I c-can’t- I’m gonna-“

Jeonghan growled against your lips, clearly not liking the fact that you had stopped kissing him.

“Then do it,” he mumbled. He tried to capture your lips again, but you dodged it.

“You can…” you trailed off, your face burning red as you panted with each thrust. “You c-can cum i-inside.”

Jeonghan faltered in his thrusts his eyes widening.

“Wh-“

“I’m on birth control and I…” You looked away from him. “I want you to fill me up.”

Jeonghan didn’t falter again. He captured your lips, his thrusts picking up again. It wasn’t long before you felt yourself coming undone, your pussy clamping around Jeonghan’s dick milking out his cum.

You practically screamed against his lips as his cum spurted deep inside of you, filling you up as his thrusts came to a stuttering stop. He let himself fall off of you, his dick slipping out of you and his cum begining to drip out too as he did.

You two laid there for a few minutes. Your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

“Love,” Jeonghan whispered. You glanced over at him, and when you did, his lips chastely pressed to yours again. It wasn’t like it was before. Not one big, desperate kiss, but instead a numerous amount of fleeting ones as he pressed closer and closer to you.

A whine erupted from your lips.

“Han-”

“I can’t help it,” Jeonghan mumbled back. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long now.”

You grumbled but he didn’t care. He pressed his lips to yours again. When he broke that kiss you let your eyes flutter shut, leaning in close to him. He pressed another kiss to you, this time to your forehead, and you could feel him smile against you.

“Don’t leave,” Jeonghan whispered. You hummed.

“‘m not,” you replied. He huffed.

“I mean don’t leave me. Stay with me, okay? I know, I know my relationships don’t last long. And maybe I don’t treat my partners that great.”

He tugged you closer to him.

“But I’ll treat you great, and I don’t want to just go on and pretend this didn’t happen or worse not have you as a friend anymore.”

If there was any part of you that thought that he was lying it was culled by the fact that you could feel his heart beating in his chest. He was nervous. You couldn’t remember a time where Jeonghan had been nervous before

“Jeonghan, I don’t know,” you mumbled. You could feel how serious he was from the way his grip tightened on you. It was just for a second, but that second said everything to you.

“Give me a chance,” he mumbled. “I love you.”

You had never heard Jeonghan tell someone that he loved them. Never you, never any of his partners, never even his mother.

You felt your heart skip a beat, and you wanted to curse knowing that the reason one of Jeonghan’s hands was over your chest was so that he could feel it too. He leaned in closer to you again.

“Please.”

“Okay,” you agreed. “Okay, I love you too. I really do I just- I don’t want to lose you.”

Jeonghan nodded.

“You won’t.”

And as you two fell asleep, Spider-Man still playing in the background you could only trust that he was right.

AN: This should be called three times Jeonghan tried to kiss you and one time he finally did.

#I wrote this on my phone #be honest if it's horrible #Jeonghan #Jeonghan Seventeen #Yoon Jeonghan #yoon jeonghan smut #Jeonghan smut #Seventeen smut #Seventeen Fic #Seventeen fanfic #Seventeen Fanfiction #Jeonghan Fanfiction #Jeonghan Fanfic

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lovedreamer11 · 6 months

Text

There are times when I really hate HOTD

You have no idea how much I want the HOTD writers to go to hell. I'm a patient person and I'm used to adaptations being different from the original, but what they did with HOTD is a huge piece of garbage. Adaptations often change appearance, plot, time frame, but a drastic change in personality is something I cannot tolerate.

What the hell happened to Alicent? Maybe the real Alicent was a stepmother from hell, but at least she knew what she wanted and was ready to do anything to achieve what she wanted. What happened to the boastful, arrogant, stupid and hot-tempered Aemond? And Aegon? This guy was a hot-tempered, spoiled hedonist, but not Mr. "I do what my mom says. My parents don't love me. It's time to show everyone my sad eyes."

Rhaenyra and Alicent's "friendship" is just 🤮. What the hell is friendship? From the very beginning, show!Alicent was jealous of show!Rhaenyra's position and status and her relationship with her parents. The real Rhaenyra would never have noticed someone like Alicent, let alone befriend her. Both girls had different upbringings, interests and worldviews. What common topics of communication did they have?

What kind of love are we talking about between Show!Viserys and Show!Rhaenyra? For half the season, all Show!Viserys did was just yell at his daughter and not listen to her, and for the second he looked like the walking dead.

How the writers couldn't come up with anything better than stealing some of Rhaenyra's things. Like her signature black dress, a forced marriage to a man who didn't care about Rhaenyra. Did you notice show!Rhaenyra's dresses and hairstyles? The book literally had a description of how Rhaenyra dressed and what hairstyle she preferred, but the writers apparently read the book from Wikipedia and skipped every second word.

I showed my friend, who hasn't watched the show and doesn't know anything about GOT or HOTD, photos of young show!Rhaenyra and show!Alicent from the series and asked what she thought. Do you know what the answer was? My friend decided that show!Alicent was a princess and show!Rhaenyra was a servant.

Just look at the banners they made for the second season. The green banner is really nice, but the black banner looks like a cheap towel.

What about the blacks on the show? How stupid must a girl be, who grew up in a world in which the main purpose of a woman is marriage and the birth of an heir, and who is the heir to the throne, to think that she can avoid marriage? The real Viserys didn't give Rhaenyra a choice and chose her husband himself, but did show!Rhaenyra really think she could avoid marriage? Show!Raenyra is the height of stupidity and absurdity, which constantly contradicts itself.

And Daemon? I really feel sorry for Matt. He is a talented actor and tries very hard. I think if the show had more skilled writers, he could have portrayed the real Daemon. But show!Daemon is a stupid, illogical, absurd clown who doesn’t understand what he wants and doesn’t follow through. This character has so many fans solely because of Matt's charisma, the writers should kiss his feet for that.

And of course, my favorite. There's only been one season out, but the writers have already demonstrated their style of throwing aside logic for the sake of effect. I mean, show!Laena's self-immolation and the way show!Rhaenys ruined show!Aegon's coronation. Do you know what the people who work on the show said in interviews? They added these scenes because they thought it would be cooler and more impressive. Wasn’t the creators of GOT guided by a similar point of view when working on the plot of the last seasons of the show?

And now, because of this show, a lot of people have come out of nowhere to argue that women should not hold leadership positions, remain silent and accept neglect because it is necessary, and rapists and aggressors can be forgiven if they are played by beautiful actors or if the characters lacked parental support love. According to this logic, people should love Joffrey and Ramsay since they both also lacked parental love in childhood.

This show really had potential and a good cast. But the screenwriters' work destroyed everything from the very beginning. Many people still have hopes that everything will be better in the second season, but I am in despair. No, seriously, look at the team banners for season two. They really did a good job on the green banner and that would be fine if the black banner wasn’t yet another proof of the writers’ bias. Black team, we have no hope.

#anti team green #anti hotd #I want to cry #what did these barbarians do with the plot?#team black

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tame-a-messenger · 7 days

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Damangela lives rent free on smoshtwt

...but in the most unfortunate way because have they not seen from this fixation of theirs that there's a section of us who will have a field day if Damien surprise us one day as a guest in a Starkid prod? Or another variant at Smosh where both Angela and Damien can showcase their talents and intellect? Their chaotic bickering is like treats because there's also other Smosh duos that have it too. But those fewer times where they truly shine, whether they're in the same video or not, really feels like a reward to witness it unfold.

(I am one of those who like this duo because of their musical inclinations and astounded by their way of thinking)

I simply don't know what they are trying to impose. The perfect person podcast really sealed it to me. That if what they imply is she only tolerates every interaction she had with him is simply off the marks. The pièce de résistance they can't ever refute.

Is it also not a tad reaching to practically put it on blast with their straw picking speculation that it was a Damien thing where they perceived him not being as socially adept in a way he is not in good terms to his coworkers? That's not a good look to give to someone who was masking before.

Smoshtwt can be too much sometimes,

I think I finally figured out why the interactions between here (tumblr) and there (Twitter) are so different - They partake in 'Stan' culture, while over here is a bit more rooted in classic 'Fandom' culture.

If you didn't know, 'Stan' comes from combining 'Stalker' and 'Fan' (I believe originating in the K-pop community) (though if you google it, it says it comes from an Eminem song. Funny, but I don't think that's right) so it's a bit more... intense. (either origin for 'Stan' is pretty extreme though)

That and Twitter in general festers a more hostile community. The more you make someone mad the more they interact with you, so Twitter pushes that content because of that.

(Back to your ask)

I don't know if I could physically watch a Starkid production with Damien in it, PURELY because I'd be TOO DAMN HAPPY. I'd be pausing every second and hyperventilating lol. (fr though, that would be SO FUCKING COOL!!)

It's maybe a little bit of a weird relation but, their dynamic to me is like watching a movie with incredible writing? For example of what I mean by that- Their Reddit Stories Ep really had me thinking totally different about all the situations. Literally every story Shayne would read out I would be thinking about what I thought about it, (I like to see if anyone on the couch is going to have similar opinions to me) and every. single. story. Angela and Damien came up with points I never even thought about, but were SO RIGHT!

He'd bring up something, then she'd dunk it with the most factual thing I've ever heard! (that guy not being able to wear that watch ever in front of his girlfriend !!) That whole episode is so good just for the way they both problem solve and how well they compliment each others opinions! They just have such good dialogue with each other. (Genuinely Oscar worthy writing in that episode of RS)

Every time I come across a post ANYWHERE talking about how they don't get why people even like Damangela because "Angela doesn't even seem to like Damien" it makes my eyes pop out of my skull.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN?? DO WE KNOW THE SAME ANGELA AND DAMIEN???

Like the sheer amount they both have gone on record saying how much they enjoy each others presence and love each other doesn't mean anything to them?! The amount they make each other laugh??

Like it really does come across as these Accounts just really not liking Damien more than anything to actually do with his and Angela's dynamic. (I could talk about reasons why Damien comes across as 'awkward' or 'bad with coworkers' to some people at length, but I'll save that for another day)(<-signed, Another Neurodivergent person with people issues <3)

I'm also totally convinced all the people hating on Damangela haven't seen much content with both of them in it. That's the only reason I would accept as to why they hate Damangela so much lol, they truly just don't know what they're missing out on <3

#Damien Haas #Angela Giarratana #Damngela Dynamic Enjoyer #Damangela #Damien and Angela #Damien x Angela #Damngela #Damien/Angela #smoshblr #some twitter users fr have never met an ornery person before ever in their life..#Both of them are so fucking ornery sometimes! its a way of life <3 #Just because they get annoyed at each other sometimes doesnt mean they arent friends !!!#I have literally NEVER seen Damien consistently annoyed at Angela EVER #(he was annoyed in DWMP:CL where she kept saying she “stopped listening” a bunch But even then she made it up to him in that same stream)#And Angela has definitely gotten a lil annoyed at him at times but she's just an ornery bundle regardless if Damien was involved or not #I am also (by default) easily annoyable its really not as deep as people make it out to be (sometimes I'm just hungry)#Honestly they seem like people that NEED to be able to be annoyed over each other #They both really light up if they get to debate about something so I think its safe to assume they like the turmoil lol (im the same way)

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avatar-anna · 2 years

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I love your angst fics sm!! Idk if you're taking requests atm, but maybe something about the reader w a chronic disease??

Harry rushed into the house, hastily pulling his keys out of his pocket to unlock the door. He tossed the bag over his shoulder onto the couch without a care and ran up the stairs. Sighing when he saw the master bedroom door closed, he knocked on the door gently.

"Lovie? Are you in there?"

There was no reply from the other side, but Harry pressed his ear to the door. He could just make out the sounds of sniffling and the rustling of bed sheets. She's still here. Thank God, he thought, relieved that she hadn't left. Not yet, anyway.

Yesterday, just before he was supposed to go on stage, Harry got a text from Y/n. It was very simple, very clear, and not at all what he was expecting.

Y/n: I'm breaking up with you. I just don't think it's working anymore. I'm sorry it has to be over text. I'll be out of the house in the next few days.

Harry couldn't believe it. They'd been dating for nearly a year, and it had been the best months of his life. He and Y/n had been happy, more than happy actually. Harry felt like he could talk to Y/n about anything and share his thoughts, fears, and ambitions. And she confided in him too. She opened up to him about her migraines, and let him help her when they were particularly unbearable.

The first time Y/n got a really bad migraine, Harry was out of the country promoting his new album on a late night talk show. Having known where he was and what he was doing, she didn't say anything to him. It wasn't the first time her condition had worsened, she was used to dealing with it on her own, so she did just that.

When Harry came back, he was floored that she didn't tell him, that he was away while she was in so much pain. Y/n tried to tell him that it was no big deal, nor was she mad at him for being gone. This was something she had to deal with, not him.

"You mean something to me, Y/n. I want to deal with it with you."

Harry only had eyes for his girlfriend, whose pain he wished he could just take away with the snap of his fingers, but Y/n began to take note of just how often Harry postponed or canceled events to take care of her. She appreciated how much he cared, it was one of the many things she loved about him, but she didn't like that she was now getting in the way of his career, and she wasn't the only person that noticed.

And from then on, Y/n knew she could rely on Harry to be there when she needed him. It wasn't often. Her migraines were mostly tolerable, but the times when they were extraordinarily painful, Harry dropped everything to take care of her. He stayed with her in bed, he brewed her tea, ran her baths, did everything in his power to make her as comfortable as she could possibly be.

Magazine articles were printed about Harry's frequent absences, fans started to notice that when Harry rescheduled shows or television tapings for emergencies, he was spotted near where he and Y/n lived. She saw what they said online, how they felt about said "emergencies."

Doesn't she realize he has a job to do?

Who does she think she is?

How can Harry stand her? She's so clingy.

She's ruining him and his career.

I miss the old Harry. Y/n changed him.

Those were a few of the things she read daily, and while she disagreed, deep down, she knew they were right. If she were healthier, Harry wouldn't have to worry about her as much. She was a burden, extra weight he shouldn't have had to carry.

Harry never once complained, but Y/n knew he never would. He loved her, and she loved him, which was why she knew she had to be the one to let him go.

So she sent him a text while he was back on tour. She figured she would send it and go to her mother's house for a while. The plan was to leave while Harry was still gone, but of course the stress and upset of breaking up with someone she was in love with brought on a terrible migraine. She could hardly open her eyes without feeling horrible pain pounding against her skull like an anvil.

Y/n took her normal pain meds for when her migraines reared their ugly head, but they didn't help. Knowing she wasn't going anywhere for a while, she turned the lights off, closed the curtains, and went straight to bed, hoping a nap would ease her pain.

It didn't, but even if she wanted to open the door for Harry, Y/n could barely move a muscle.

"Lovie," he whispered, gently moving a strand of hair from her forehead and a tear from her cheek. "How can I help?"

When Harry didn't hear a response, he opened the door. If his heart hadn't been broken and beaten by the prospect of losing Y/n, it would've cracked at the sight of her so sick.

"It hurts so bad," Y/n cried, barely registering that Harry was supposed to be in another country at the moment. "Please hold me."

"I will, darling, but I think we need to see a doctor first," he said, his brow crinkling with worry.

Y/n tried to shake her head, but she winced. "No. Please. I don't want to move. Harry, please don't make me—"

"Shh shh shh, darling, I know it hurts, that's why we have to see a doctor."

Harry hated seeing Y/n in so much pain. He'd had headaches before, of course, but nothing to the level of pain that she experienced. He never understood how someone so sweet and so kind could be plagued by an illness like this. Y/n didn't deserve this, no one did.

"Come here," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Y/n winced and whimpered with every movement, but eventually, she was curled into Harry's arms and was being lifted up and away from the bed.

Harry walked as carefully as he could out of their bedroom—and it was still their bedroom, Y/n wasn't getting rid of him that easily—and down the stairs. He kept whispering and kissing the top of her head, trying to soothe her any way he could. He could feel her tears staining his shirt, but he didn't care, all he cared about was getting her better.

The drive to the hospital was thankfully quick, and Harry rushed Y/n inside as best he could without causing her more pain. She was quickly taken away on a gurney while Harry was left to fill out forms and answer questions. Since he wasn't technically family, the nurses at the front desk tried to keep him out of Y/n's room once she was settled, but when people in the waiting room began taking out their phones to snap a picture of him, they decided to make an exception so as not to disturb the peace.

Y/n was asleep when Harry came inside, and he was finally able to relax. He'd been so worried. About her sudden decision to break up with him, finding her crying out in pain in their bed, rushing her to the hospital, all of it caused anxiety to coil in his stomach, but now it eased a bit.

After half an hour went by, Y/n finally began to stir. Harry surveyed her quickly, finding that the pinch between her eyebrows was gone. She looked peaceful, which helped ease that anxiety within him.

"Harry? What are you doing here? I thought you were in Dublin."

The doctor told Harry that the medication they gave to Y/n was strong, and that it might make her "a little woozy."

"I came to see you. I got this text from you, but it didn't make any sense. I had to come check on you because I knew my love would never break up with me. Over text no less."

Under normal circumstances, Harry wouldn't have joked about that, but his words had their desired effect. Y/n's face was graced with a small smile. It was quick to wink out, though, like her head was clearing up to realize the severity of the situation.

The air was thick with tension and words left unsaid. Harry wanted to ask a million questions, but he didn't think he could, given Y/n's condition. And by the look on her face, there were things she wanted to say too.

"This is why we can't be together," she muttered, so quietly Harry could hardly hear it.

"What, lovie?"

Y/n winced, a tear falling from her cheek, though Harry had a feeling it wasn't from the migraine. "You shouldn't be here, baby. Thousands of people are expecting you to—"

"Hold on. Is that why you texted me about breaking up?" Harry asked, inching his chair closer to her hospital bed. "Y/n, we've talked about this."

"I'm—I'm a burden! I'm ruining your career. You've missed so many shows because of me," she said. "You deserve someone who's healthy and doesn't make you cancel shows because—"

"Because I love you." Harry stood up so he could cup her face in his hands. Her lip was trembling, but he was quick to pass his thumb over it. "You're not a burden, Y/n. You have an illness. That's nothing to be ashamed of or feel sorry for. I thought I convinced you of that. Have I not convinced you that I would do anything for you?"

Harry was hurt by the idea that he hadn't expressed himself so clearly, Y/n could see it on his face. That made more tears slip from her eyes. She didn't want him to think that how she felt was his fault.

"You did, but I also know how much time you waste by...by coming to check up on me. I thought I was doing the right thing."

Harry would've laughed if he wasn't so distressed. It killed him to realize that she considered herself as time wasted when she was exactly the opposite. Y/n's intentions were noble enough, but they were unnecessary. "Darling, this might come as a shock to you because we haven't even been together a whole year, but you're it for me. I don't want to be with anyone else."

"Harry—"

Y/n reached out for the hand that was still cupping her cheek. It took everything in her to send that text, but it was impossible to turn him away now. She never wanted to in the first place, she just thought she was doing what was best for Harry and his career.

"So I need you to believe me when I say that I need you in my life,” he said before she could cut in. "Coming to see you, coming to take care of you and nursing you back to health will never be a waste of time. Ever. You're going to have to do a lot better than a text and a trip to the hospital if you want to get rid of me."

"I—I just feel the weight of all your fans disappointment whenever you have to see me, and I feel so bad every time I—"

"Hey," Harry said, quick to sink onto the tiny hospital bed. He let her rest against him, his arms quick to wrap around her. "You can't control your migraines, and neither can I, but what I can control is my decision to get on a plane to come see you and take care of you. Please let me take care of you."

"I wish I didn't have these God-awful migraines at all," Y/n said against the soft material of his shirt.

Harry kissed the crown of her head. "I know, lovie. I wish I could take your pain away."

"I know I just made a big deal of it, but you being here does help," she mumbled. "I just feel selfish sometimes when you're with me when you're supposed to be performing for everyone else."

Y/n had a big heart, that much was clear. But she often forgot that she came first in Harry's life. She always would.

"Let's not talk about anyone else, lovie," he said softly against her hair. "Let's just focus on getting you better so we can go home. It is still our home, right?"

Smiling, Y/n placed a tiny kiss to Harry's chest. "It is."

Harry tipped her chin up so he could finally kiss her properly. Y/n's lips were chapped and her cheeks were sticky with tear stains, but nothing felt more right than kissing her. It settled something in him.

He knew what she wasn't saying, knew that her insecurities stemmed from what his fans and news outlets were saying about her and their relationship. He despised how cruel people could be towards the woman he loved, but he decided that that conversation could wait. The most important thing right now was to make sure Y/n was okay.

"I love you. So much," she said, squeezing his torso as she settled down against him.

Harry knew she was already asleep, but he didn't care, he needed to say the words. Hopefully, they would bring her good dreams. "I love you too. I'd give up everything to make you happy."

Cuddled up together like this, Harry couldn't fight off sleep. The smell of Y/n's shampoo and the familiar feeling of her in his arms made his eyelids feel heavy. And once he settled himself against the hospital bed—Y/n's hands firmly gripping his shirt whenever he moved even the tiniest bit—Harry let himself drift to sleep too, grateful for the fact that he would be there for his love when she woke up.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles angst

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rosanna-writer · 8 days

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we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (20/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~5k

Content warning for canon-typical violence and animal death. Some text in this chapter is taken directly from A Court of Mist and Fury.

Read on AO3 or you can find the twentieth chapter below the readmore.

Mud didn't seep through Illyrian leathers. A small mercy, perhaps, but after sitting in it for a few hours, the cold was infinitely more tolerable when I stayed dry. I couldn't move, not without scaring away the ducks that were finally beginning to forget that I was sitting on the edge of the pond.

And I'd been dispatched to find dinner.

We'd fanned out to cover more ground—someone in Windhaven must have tipped the rogue war-bands off, and they'd retreated deeper into the forest. Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel took turns flying circles overhead, looking for signs of movement.

We'd likely be out here several days, too long to carry enough food to last the whole time. Though I knew it was to put some distance between me and an initial confrontation with hotheaded warriors with a hatred for humans, I didn't mind. The work needed to get done anyway.

I still hated hunting, but being out in the woods alone cleared my head. There was a quiet and stillness that was impossible to find in a city, even one as lovely as Velaris. I let my mind wander, and I considered how to best capture the dappled sunlight on the water if I ever painted this view. Filling a full canvas still felt like a long way off, but…perhaps a landscape would be the way to ease back into it. Maybe I'd paint a mountain before I tackled everything that had happened under one.

But I could only think of painting for so long, and the ducks were still flitting about too nervously for my liking. I sat a bit longer, and my mind drifted to other things.

Rhys never told me if he was proposing or not. I hadn't asked again. In truth, I had no idea what I was supposed to do after recovering the ring—return it to him? I couldn't wear it openly, at least not without inviting questions we weren't ready to answer. But I hadn't seen a faerie wear a wedding band or use a surname or even known someone else with a mate.

And if faerie funerals were so different from mortal ones, then I supposed weddings would be, too. Especially when a High Lord was involved. Gods, the only person I'd talked to about the difference between marriage and mating had been Tamlin—there was no reason to believe anything he'd told me was accurate.

I was out of my depth. But the ducks had finally settled, so I did the one thing I was good for and let an arrow fly. It speared a bird through the neck, killing it instantly.

The rest of the flock alighted—I had to move quickly. Half on instinct, I aimed, accounting for their speed and direction as I shot down three more, one right after the other. Every arrow found its mark, and the unlucky ducks dropped to the ground as the rest soared away.

My hips and knees barked in protest as I stood; crouching in the mud for so long had left me stiff. At least nothing had gone numb this time.

I felt better, though, even with the tedious task of retrieving, cleaning, and cooking the game ahead of me. In the Spring Court, I'd gotten comfortable and let my guard down far too easily. I'd never felt safer or more taken care of in my life than I had in these last two weeks with Rhys in Velaris, but…I'd worried, on some level, that I'd gotten soft or lost my skills because of it. Bagging those ducks proved I hadn't.

Being loved didn't make me any less a wolf.

I gathered the birds and made my way to the place we'd agreed to meet up at sunset. Without wax or even a large pot of water, I'd either have to breast them out—which would waste some of the meat—or pluck the feathers one by one to roast them whole. And we needed to get a fire started.

I was still plucking the first bird when Azriel arrived. There was a smear of blood on his leathers, and that told me enough—whatever had happened resulted in no survivors. Wordlessly, he grabbed a carcass, sat down next to me, and began ripping the feathers off, too.

No one had ever done that for me. Not my sisters or my father, not even when I'd asked for help.

Cassian landed not long after that, grim-faced and slightly bloodied. He nodded a greeting, then crouched and began coaxing a fire to life. "We're lucky to have a professional around," he said, indicating the carcasses with a jerk of his head.

"Did I catch enough?" I said.

"More than enough to ensure we don't have to listen to Cassian's stomach growl all night," Azriel said.

Knowing that none of us would go hungry set me at ease. The duck in my hand felt like even more of a tangible contribution, proof that it hadn't been a mistake to bring me to Illyria. I smiled to myself and kept ripping out feathers.

I hadn't heard him winnow in, but I felt the familiar darkness of Rhys's power reaching for me again. I turned to see him walking towards us through the trees. As he got closer, my eyes drifted to a scratch on his cheek. Then all my attention locked onto it.

Hardly a scrape—whoever had done it hadn't even broken the skin, and his magic was already halfway done healing it. My blood boiled anyway. Someone had gotten close enough to get a talon or a weapon on him.

"Who," I said, though the word was more growl than speech.

"They're dead," Rhys said.

I was on my feet without even realizing it, closing the distance between us in long strides. "Good. Did you—"

"Yes. All by my hand."

The scratch had faded completely, but I reached for the place it had been. Rhys caught my wrist and tugged me to him. The momentum made my greeting more collision than kiss. I nearly knocked us both over, but Rhys was solid and steady as his other arm twined around my waist to crush me against him.

We'd only been apart a few hours, but someone had almost drawn blood from my mate; an utterly irrational wave of guilt that I hadn't been there to stop it and relief that he was fine had swept away my good sense. I was already pawing at him with my free hand.

The pointed clearing of a throat cut through the mating-bond-induced madness. Without looking up from the bird he was still plucking, Azriel said, "I'd like to remind everyone that we agreed no sharing bedrolls on this mission."

I didn't have it in me to feel embarrassed. Perhaps I couldn't feel ashamed of anything when Rhys had an arm around me. I interlaced our fingers and pulled him back towards the fire.

We sat down, and Cassian dug a rag out of his pack and tossed it in our direction. I reached up to catch it, but it snagged on one of Rhys's talons.

Cassian grinned. "That's for Feyre. I can tell she's dying to clean you off."

Rhys narrowed his eyes, flicking a finger towards the rag, and it dissolved into mist. "I'm not an invalid," he grumbled. On my other side, Azriel chuckled.

Cassian took over the rest of the cooking after that, and one knowing look we shared across the fire was enough to tell me he'd made do with unseasoned game and campfires plenty of times before. Roasted whole, the duck wasn't half-bad.

Before long, night fell, and we were divvying up shifts to keep watch. I took the first, then had no trouble falling asleep—not in the open air, underneath the stars. The next day was more of the same as we tracked the rogue war-bands deeper into the forest.

On the third day of hunting, I was crouched up a tree when a glint of something bright green tore my attention away from the forest floor. I'd assumed the shape circling above had been a bird, perhaps a hawk or a vulture, and hadn't thought much about it.

But birds didn't sparkle. That was an emerald-colored siphon.

The path the Illyrian was taking brought him closer, but I didn't think he'd spotted me. I froze. He flew closer, almost in range of my bow.

I didn't dare even breathe too loudly. Keen faerie senses were difficult to hide from, and even if I stayed hidden, his looping flight pattern would send him back in the opposite direction and I'd miss an opportunity.

He came closer. And closer. There was no time to run.

I grabbed an ash arrow and took the shot.

The arrow ripped a hole in one of his wings, and the Illyrian plummeted to the ground like a stone in water. I scrambled down from my perch and barreled through the trees. As I ran, I pulled another ash arrow from my quiver—a fall from that height could have been deadly, but if not, an injured Illyrian warrior could still find a way to bury a dagger in my belly.

I heard him moaning in pain before I stepped into the clearing where he'd fallen. He'd landed on his back, torso twisted and his legs bent at unnatural angles. A shattered pelvis at the least, maybe even a snapped spine. Healing magic was the only thing keeping him alive. The siphon on his chest flickered weakly, like a heart struggling to beat.

At the sound of my footsteps, his head turned. His eyes burned with hate as he reached for a knife strapped to his belt. I nocked the ash arrow, aiming directly for his face as I took a step closer. His hand stilled.

"Tell me where the others are hiding," I said. "Don't bother lying. The High Lord is on his way."

"I won't take orders from Rhysand's human whore," he spat.

"The best outcome you can hope for is a mercy kill before he arrives. Give up their locations, and I'll consider it."

For a long moment, he said nothing. My arm began to ache from keeping the bowstring pulled back, and I prayed my fingers wouldn't start shaking. I said nothing either, just tried to emulate Azriel's deadly, stone-faced resolve.

The Illyrian's hand twitched, but his fingers never closed around the hilt of the knife. Instead, through clenched teeth, he recited the litany of names and locations I was after. I believed him—I doubted he was in a state to lie convincingly.

As I listened, I gave one insistent tug on the bond and dropped my shields so Rhys could hear it all, too. The beast that had once rested in my mind became a furious thing growling and snapping its jaws.

The clearing plunged into darkness. I couldn't see where Rhys was, but I felt his power sliding along my skin all the same.

"Is that all?" I said, my voice so cold I hardly recognized it as my own.

The Illyrian whimpered something that might have been "yes." I loosed the arrow; even under the cover of Rhys's darkness, my aim stayed true. The point landed in the Illyrian's eye, buried deep enough in his skull to render him still and silent forever.

Just like Andras.

Even with the threat gone, the darkness didn't clear. I glanced up, and my vision had adjusted enough to make out Rhys's silhouette, his wings flared and hands shaking.

"You should have called me the moment you spotted him," Rhys said, voice ragged.

"I handled it," I said simply.

Rhys growled. At me. And the fact that I was too human to properly bare my teeth and return the favor—rage bubbled under my skin. If he'd been closer, I would have shoved him.

"Then why bring me here?" I hissed. "Just to humor me?"

I felt like such a fool for not having realized it sooner. Killing a few ducks was hardly a real contribution—they might as well have patted me on the head and told the High Lord's little human mate she'd done such a good job. Shame made my cheeks go hot.

"Don't be stupid, Feyre," Rhys snapped.

The darkness rippled and churned around us, like a storm at sea. The tendrils seemed to lap at me, pressing close then retreating, even as they skittered down my spine. Magic thrummed in the air.

I crossed my arms. "I'm not."

"You could have gotten yourself killed. Even Cassian won't run into a fight without backup if it's available. There were three of us who could have gone with you, but for reasons I can't even begin to fathom, you waited until the very last second."

I'd never seen Rhys this…undone. Not even when I'd first gone Under the Mountain. His breathing was ragged, and there was a note of panic in his voice I'd never heard before.

"I…I didn't think to ask. At least not at first. I called for you as soon as I remembered." As ridiculous as it sounded when I said it aloud, it was true. But the habit of doing everything on my own was a difficult one to break.

Rhys sighed, his shoulders slumping as the fight went out of him. The darkness seemed to lift, but before I could be sure, he'd winnowed closer and pulled me against his chest. I couldn't see much other than his wings cocooning me.

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "I love your fearlessness just as much as every other part of you, but please remember that you're not alone anymore. I can't lose you, Feyre."

"I love you too," I said, voice thick. I set my bow down and hugged him back.

Both ends of the bond seemed to settle as we held each other. I savored it—the heat of him against me, the sun shining through his wings, the soft scrape of the scales of his leathers against my cheek.

"You are your own person, and I will not dictate your choices. Ever." Rhys picked a twig out of my hair; it must have gotten lodged in my braid when I'd climbed down from the tree. "If you'd told me what you were doing, I would only have asked you to allow me to come with for my own peace of mind."

I'd never asked why he'd gone alone to that cursed party fifty years ago. Maybe he'd insisted on it; maybe he'd also forgotten to ask for backup, then paid a terrible price. It seemed better not to bring it up.

"You aren't alone either," was all I said.

There was a pulse of something down the bond that I couldn't quite identify, then he stepped back, tucking his wings in tight. His expression was unreadable—a wall had gone back up.

"I've passed all the information on to Azriel, and his shadows are scouting out the locations we were given. Will you be able to keep going? It's alright if you're rattled—you did just kill someone."

There was nothing but a howling void where my guilt should have been. Perhaps I'd lost that piece of myself when I'd killed Andras. If anything, I just felt…numb. "He deserved it."

"I don't disagree."

Rhys let me into his mind as he conferred with the others. I relaxed when Azriel's shadows confirmed that the information I'd gathered was correct—at the very least, I'd saved us time trekking through the woods. I wasn't useless, hadn't been brought here for nothing after all.

Once the first war-band had been hauled back to Windhaven, Rhys wanted me to stay there. I didn't mind. Another set of eyes and ears on the camp was prudent, and I was still technically his emissary.

It was barely even noon when we returned. On Rhys's orders, Devlon's men had set up a line of wooden poles at the center of the camp, the area used for public gatherings. A small crowd had already begun to form. Among them, I spotted Devlon and the warriors who'd been flanking him earlier.

Cassian had wanted those poles burned. And after this, they would be. For the last fifty years, females had been tied to them when their wings had been clipped. The sight of them alone turned my stomach.

Rhys loosened his grip on his power, and from my place next to him, I could feel the magic radiating off him like heat. A gust of night-kissed wind had every member of the rebel war-band silent and tied to the posts.

"There is no tolerance for treason in the Night Court," Rhys said. His voice cut like a knife through the murmuring of the crowd. Pure command—the voice of the High Lord of the Night Court. "And to bow before an invading general who would butcher and enslave humans is particularly heinous. It spits on the graves of the soldiers who died for the mortals' freedom during the War. I'll leave your fate up to the human in our midst, Feyre Cursebreaker."

Every single set of eyes slid to me. The attention had my heart hammering in my chest, but I forced myself to mimic the small, cold smile I'd seen on Amren's face from time to time. When I'd yanked the ash arrow out of the dead warrior's eye, I hadn't bothered to clean it off, just returned it to my quiver.

The gore peeking over my shoulder was message enough.

"I'll make a final decision when the rest are captured. Flaying their skin from their bones seems merciful, but perhaps there's some creature in the Middle that might enjoy hunting them for sport," I said, making myself sound bored and aloof.

The spark of Rhys's approval down the bond bolstered my confidence for what I'd planned to do next. I stepped closer to one of the bound Illyrians and circled my hand around the thin, delicate bone at the edge of his wing, then snapped it in two.

I'd know that cracking sound anywhere. The air reeked of Wyrm shit again, mud clung to my skin, and the slithering behind me was getting closer and closer.

I was running, and—

It's over, Feyre. We got out.

Rhys's voice in my head jolted me out of the memory. I gripped one of his talons and pulled myself back to the present.

I'd survived. And no matter how much of a monster it made me, I'd ensure that no one, not even the most powerful faerie, would hurt me or anyone I loved. Not again.

Before Rhys could fuss, I was breaking the bones in the next Illyrian's wings. I gritted my teeth and ignored their cries of pain until I'd rendered every single one of them incapable of flight.

We locked eyes when it was done, but Rhys's beautiful face was an impenetrable mask I still hadn't learned to see past. "I'll be waiting here for you to bring me the rest," I said. No title or honorific—I'd let them all wonder why he hadn't misted me for speaking to him like that.

Rhys nodded once. He said nothing, but there was a question in the hesitant brush against my shields.

I'm fine. Really. Just bring me the rest so we can finish this quickly.

For a moment, the bond thrummed with wicked delight. Try not to burn down Windhaven while I'm gone.

He took to the sky. Without carrying a passenger, the movement was all perfect, lethal grace, and sometimes I wondered how I could possibly forget that Rhys was anything but an absurdly beautiful predator. I watched until he was out of sight, marveling that he was mine.

The crowd dispersed, and for a moment, I just stood there, unsure what to do with myself. Perhaps I'd spend the rest of the day being ignored by Illyrians. I wouldn't blame them for that—as faeries went about their business, I caught a few wary glances in my direction.

But I supposed I should probably clean off the bloodied arrows in my quiver. And my hands were badly in need of washing.

I made my way to the water pump at the center of the camp. An Illyrian female—around my age, if I had to guess, though it was impossible to be sure with immortals—had just started using using it. Large, brutal scars ran down both of her wings.

"I'll be a while. You can go first," she said, sliding her empty bucket out of the way with her foot. Now that I was closer, I spotted a bruise darkening her cheek, too.

"There's no need. I wouldn't want to waste your time if there are chores to be done," I said.

"You'd be doing me a favor—I'll take any excuse to be out of the house for a little while longer."

I understood—there had been countless days I'd dragged my feet because I hadn't wanted to face Nesta's barbed insults, my father's sad eyes, or Elain's clueless whining. And none of them had even raised a hand to me.

I gave the female a nod, pulled the bloody arrow from my quiver, and rinsed it off under the stream. Silence fell. The female said nothing else, and perhaps it would have been best to let the quiet stay unbroken. The chances were high a trip to gather water was a rare respite for her.

But I could feel her assessing gaze, and I struggled not to squirm under it. "Illyria is very beautiful," I blurted out awkwardly.

"It's a shithole."

"My shithole across the Wall didn't have mountains. It's prettier here, at least," I shook the excess water off the newly-clean arrow and slid it back into the quiver.

She snorted, lips tugging upward at the corners. "I'm Emerie."

"Feyre."

"I know. You're the Cursebreaker." Not awed, just matter-of-fact, which was a bit of a relief.

I scrubbed away the last of the dirt, dried off as best I could, then offered a hand to shake. Emerie took it, and I wasn't surprised that her grip was like iron, not with that straight-backed posture and sharp stare of hers.

I stayed while Emerie filled up her bucket, just talking a bit about Windhaven. She didn't offer up much about herself, and I didn't pry. But by the time she returned home, I'd learned what spices were in the Illyrian dish Cassian had brought to the townhouse the day I'd first trained with Rhys. Emerie had barked a laugh when I told her not to bother with advice on preparing it because I was an utterly hopeless cook.

Maybe I'd made a friend. But I'd also thought Lucien was a friend and he'd turned out to be assisting my kidnapper—I wasn't sure I trusted my judgement on that front anymore.

By the end of the day, Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel, had rounded up the rest of the rogue war-bands, and I'd broken the wings of the survivors. And as much as I wanted to go straight to the Weaver's cottage, I knew it was foolish to go so close to dark. Cassian planned to stay in Illyria, and Devlon was loyal enough not to release the prisoners under his nose in the dead of night or allow anyone else to manage it.

Rhys and I returned to the townhouse in need of a bath, so we took one together. We were both utterly exhausted—his eyes roved over me as I shucked off my leathers, but for once, he was silent.

I'd still snatched the long-handled sponge out of his hands and washed his wings for him. Even drained of energy, I wasn't about to forgo an opportunity to get my hands all over them. I took my time, appreciating the way the powerful muscles in his back rippled with every brush of my fingertips.

And once we were clean, he laid me out on his bed and licked until he'd wrung so much pleasure from me that I drifted into an easy sleep in his arms.

It had been exactly what we both needed. I could guess how he was feeling about a trip to Illyria with still-healing wings, and my mind was unable to keep replaying the sound of bones cracking when Rhys's tongue was sliding inside me.

My dreams were still horrifying—a bone-spear lancing through Rhys's eye, my hands covered in his blood—but I slept through the night and kept my dinner down. I woke alone in Rhys's bed that morning, which meant he'd probably slipped out once I'd drifted off. I suspected he'd had nightmares of his own, too.

I was pulling the belt of knives from my dresser when he winnowed behind me. "Allow me," he purred, right into my ear.

"I can do it myself," I said. After I'd mentioned chucking that knife at Tamlin, Azriel had showed me how to strap it on as part of my training to go Under the Mountain.

"I'm aware. That doesn't mean you have to."

He had a point, so I let him take it from me. I turned, and for a moment, we were chest-to-chest. He inhaled, drinking in my scent, and I lifted a hand to touch him.

But he dropped to his knees before I could. Flashing me a roguish grin, he spread open the web of leather and steel. My toes curled in my boots.

"Remind me of what you've been briefed on," he said as I stepped through the loops.

I did my best to ignore the steady brush of his hands as he set about adjusting and buckling and tightening things. "Knives only—no sword or bow or arrows. Don't touch anything that doesn't belong to me. Take my time to think about loopholes before agreeing on a bargain. Call for help if I need it. And stay alive before everything else," I recited.

"Precisely." He braced those strong, capable hands on my thighs and looked up at me. "You are more valuable than any treasure the Weaver could ever posses. If you need to leave the ring behind to come home to me, then that's what you do."

"I won't let it come to that."

Rhys got to his feet and kissed my cheek. "I believe you."

He winnowed us into a wood that was older, more aware, than any place I’d been.

The gnarled beech trees were tightly woven together, splattered and draped so thoroughly with moss and lichen that it was nearly impossible to see the bark beneath. The trees groaned—though there was no breeze to shift them. No, the air here was tight and stale.

So this was the Middle.

I followed Rhys through the trees, and the only sound was our footsteps. No birdsong or the snapping of twigs, nothing I was used to hearing in a forest. Just unnatural, ancient stillness.

We stopped before a clearing. A small, whitewashed cottage with a thatched roof and half-crumbling chimney sat in the center. Ordinary—almost mortal. There was even a well, its bucket perched on the stone lip, and a wood pile beneath one of the round windows of the cottage. No sound or light within—not even smoke puffed from the chimney.

I could hear faint, pretty humming coming from the cottage. Soothing, almost mesmerizing—it would have set me at ease if I didn't already know it was coming from the monster within. The sort of thing that might lure quarry into a snare.

But I was not prey. No—I was a huntress. A wolf. It took much more than that to fool me.

I started down the mossy earth path that paved the way to the door and didn't look back once. When I reached the threshold, I could hear her voice through the door. The Weaver's voice was sweet, clear, and beautiful.

“There were two sisters, they went playing, To see their father’s ships come sailing… And when they came unto the sea-brim The elder did push the younger in.”

I'd heard the song before, from humans. It was a favorite of the traveling musicians who sometimes passed through our village. And perhaps…she knew that, and the familiarity was intended to lull me, too.

I stayed perfectly still on the threshold for a long moment, the same freeze-watch-listen pattern I fell into as I hunted in the woods. Along with her voice, I could only hear the clatter of some device. So she was alone, then.

“Sometimes she sank, and sometimes she swam, Til her corpse came to the miller’s dam.”

I raised a hand to knock, but the door swung open on silent hinges, as if she'd rolled out a welcome mat just for me. I didn't move, just peered inside. My chest went tight, and I forced myself to keep my breathing even.

A large main room, with a small, shut door in the back. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, crammed with bric-a-brac: books, shells, dolls, herbs, pottery, shoes, crystals, more books, jewels…From the ceiling and wood rafters hung all manner of chains, dead birds, dresses, ribbons, gnarled bits of wood, strands of pearls…

A junk shop—of some immortal hoarder.

I waited to feel power calling out to me, but…nothing happened. Perhaps, as part of the bargain, I'd need to ask her to hand the ring to me directly. If she even remembered where it was.

The Weaver of the Wood herself sat with her back to me. In the gloom of the cottage, I could just make out the ancient, cracked spinning wheel I'd heard along with her singing. In the cottage, it was far too dim to make out the thin white thread she was spinning. Was she blind, like the Wyrm….or could she see in the dark?

My eyes drifted to the soft fiber she was feeding into the wheel. It looked like wool, but some deep-seated instinct in the back of my brain told me it was not. The question wasn't what she was spinning, but who.

The shelf above her head was filled with cones upon cones of thread, and large bolts of woven fabric filled up the space next to her. Mother above, she must have made it from entire cities, whole armies or even nations. A handful of rebel Illyrians suddenly seemed like a pitiful offering.

But I still, I had to try. And if there really were some power for me to detect, perhaps I needed to be a bit closer. Out here, nothing was pulling me towards one object in particular.

As silently as I could, I took a step into the cottage. I froze, waited, breathed. Nothing. I took another, and then the door slammed shut.

The Weaver turned her face toward me.

Above her young, supple body, beneath her black, beautiful hair, her skin was gray—wrinkled and sagging and dry. And where eyes should have gleamed instead lay rotting black pits. Her lips had withered to nothing but deep, dark lines around a hole full of jagged stumps of teeth—like she had gnawed on too many bones.

Her nose—perhaps once pert and pretty, now half-caved in—flared as she sniffed in my direction. "Well met, High Lady."

#feysand #feyre archeron #we said hello and your eyes look like coming home

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starcrime · 1 year

Text

dead poets and pets headcanons! their childhood/family pets, favourite animals, and what pets i think they would actually 'end up' with

neil perry

have you seen thomas perry? have you heard him speak? neil did not have a childhood pet. i think he really wanted a dog as a kid, but after a while of his father refusing, he would resort to asking for a fish or a hamster. his father's answer did not change absolutely adores the welton dog and always tries to sneak him treats and headpats and hugs and kisses and- he's just full of love yk he also seems like a fan of rodents? like guinea pig, hamsters and such,, he absolutely gets a dog after welton [more in todd's section]

todd anderson

the andersons bought jeffrey a cat for his fourteenth birthday it's a korat, his name is benjamin and he's a huge jerk -to everyone but todd. so it's more of todd's cat than anyone else's. todd loves cats overall, he enjoys how they just are, and finds their presence calming. once he moves out he takes benjamin with him and literally no one tries to fight him on this. also i think later in life he and neil would get a therapy dog to help todd deal with his anxiety, and neil with his trauma/depression. every once in a while one of the poets might feel down too, and todd's more than happy to let them 'borrow' the dog i feel like he would find arachnids fun, but his parents find them gross, and neil's is afrad of them, so he wouldn't ever have one

knox overstreet

idk why, but overstreets just feel like a crusty white dog named coco family. also his younger sisters have a rabbit! also i think him and charlie both used to do horseback riding as kids, as some sort of summer extracurricular?? anyways, yes, his family bought him a horse,, which is a totally standard thing to buy your child. he's not all that into horseback riding anymore and would let his siblings have the horse knox definitely loves dogs, and would have a golden retriver methinks just has that vibe

charlie dalton

his family have a bengal cat which he loves. he manhandles the shit out of that bastard and the cat doesn't really mind. the cat's name is orion, but really? it's Bastard. also his family owns horses and there's at least one that charlie dumbass-proofed (basically got it used to tolerating him as he does increasingly dangerous things around it) (idk if that's actually possible, i don't know anything about horses other than they look kinda cool) (idk why but the visual of charlie riding a horse like a skateboard cannot escape my mind i simply had to share). definitely a dog person, though he doesn't strike me as a guy that would actually have a dog? at least just on his own, he could have one with someone (a bf maybe? a bf named steven meeks even?,) he loves dogs, but having a whole creature depending solely on him is not a good idea.

gerard pitts

dog person. obviously he just seems like a guy that would enjoy going on long runs it's bc he's tall with long legs and what can make a run better? a dog he had a childhood dog that was already pretty old when he was born.. anyways! they got a him a german shorthair to celebrate him graduating middle school totally not bc he was heartbroken he probably wouldn't try and relocate the dog once he moves out just to not stress him out he might get a turtle though, he looks like a turtle guy

steven meeks

meeks' family has a miniature poodle. she's very well trained and steven deff treats her very politely. like- 'hello, would you like a treat, ma'am? of course, just do a spin first please?,, there you go, thank you :)' <- no babytalk or anything like that, he seems like a guy who just talks to animals like they're human all the time overall, but he's extra polite to her he feels like a,, calm dog person. like he enjoys their energy and likes having an excitible furry friend, but doesn't run around them or like match their general chaoticness also i feel he might get a gecko <3 just a lil' guy to sit on his shoulder while he studies/works <3

richard cameron

my lifelong hc for cameron's family is that he has some grandparents and cousins living on a farm, that he spends half of every summer with, doing typical farm things,, like caring for farm animals,, like cows,, and with that comes 'cow person' cameron headcanon he has his favourite in the herd for sure that he's just best friends with :) she has huge eyes and she listens to him rant, she's the best obviously one cannot simply own a cow as a pet, and since they're his favs he would probably opt out to not have any pets. scratch that i just thought about him having a chicken as a pet and am endlessly amused by it. he has a pet chicken

#dead poets society #dead poets fandom #dead poets headcanons #neil perry #todd anderson #knox overstreet #charlie dalton #steven meeks #richard cameron #anderperry #neil x todd #meeks x charlie #dalmeeks #starlie #hellton boys #i2maz

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bonesandthebees · 3 months

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I just rounded off my period so a massive L to all of you I suppose /lhj

I'm in so much pain about the Wilbur situation in general and have so many mixed feelings. Like I've only just got a chance to sit down and read his 'apology' and all of the replies from content creators and (ex)fans alike. I was so close to throwing up that I had to close the tab /gen.

I've never really watched Shubble content, nor have I had a chance to watch her full vod on the issue, so my first instinct was to be a good little media sieve and try to be open-minded before making an opinion. I won't lie, I was trying very hard to convince myself that it wasn't Wilbur and everyone was jumping to conclusions (though the more I read made that less and less likely).

I was worried for Wilbur's group (tommy, phil, charlie etc) because there was no way they could stream without being harassed by it, and worried partially for Wilbur as well because of various mental health problems that he's admitted to in the past.

Now that he's responded, though, everything's so much worse. As someone who struggled with being on the victim side of abuse for a while, I feel awful for Shelby and everything that happened to her.

Charlie, Ranboo, Tubbo etc have all responded (most very passionately so I have no doubt where they stand), so that's good for them, but tommy and phil have yet to. I can't help but wonder if Techno knew, if it had even started by then or if Wilbur didn't tell him.

I've seen people making reasonable assumptions about signs in past content that may have pointed to Wilbur's abuse, but there are some people making reaches that don't even make sense and now I can barely consume content or even remember videos that i used to be fond of without worrying that it was just Wilbur manipulating people.

Also, as far as I'm aware, none of lovejoy have replied to the situation (apart from the ex trumpeter), so ash, mark and joe are getting hate when they haven't done anything (though I may have just not seen it yet).

Some part of my brain is convinced this is all some horrible nightmare and I'll wake up able to laugh and joke about SBI content with my friends, even if I know that'll likely never happen again.

If there's one thing for certain, it's that his response was not an apology. I do believe that he thought long and hard about it (even if it was just for superficial PR reasons) and maybe ran it by people he trusted, but it was not what he should have said in response to Shelby coming forward about his abuse. All he's done is dig a bigger hole and now thousands of his (ex)supporters have to live with the consequences of his actions.

Honestly, I just feel sad. Sad that it happened, sad that Wilbur isn't who I thought he was and sad that my life will be drastically different from here on out.

Sorry that that was so heavy. I just feel really confused and there's a pit in my stomach that's churning horribly.

-🌺 <3

oh of course SOMEONE just had to finish their period right when the rest of us get it smh /lh

yeah, this is such a horrible situation overall. for me at least his response made the situation somewhat more tolerable because it felt like a closure moment. it made me realize, oh, he was really awful the entire time and this shit apology proves it. however, I'm sure in a few days the reality will hit me and I'll feel awful again. it's not fun realizing someone you admired and were a fan of for so long was a completely different kind of person than the guy he presented himself as.

I don't know where you heard that charlie responded, because as far as I'm aware he has not said anything anywhere about this situation yet.

I also don't think it's very worthwhile for people to be combing through old vods and videos for 'questionable moments' they can point at and be like "look he was abusive the whole time!" because we don't know what's going on in cc's personal lives. more than anything that should be the take away here. we don't know these people, we don't know their personal relationships, we shouldn't be trying to pinpoint every questionable moment and prove something with it because we're not in these personal relationships with wilbur. the other cc's are. basically, don't overthink what you see in old vods or old videos. it's not going to help whatsoever and it's none of our business.

I've also had the thought that this feels like a nightmare I could wake up from. I've had that thought every day since shelby's stream first happened. but unfortunately that's not the case, and we need to focus instead on supporting the victims here

I'm sorry there's not much I can say to help. just try to take care of yourself. give yourself time. it'll get a bit easier with each passing day.

#ask #hibiscus anon #wilbur situation

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booiiee · 10 months

Text

King of my heart,

body and soul

Christmas wasn't really your favourite of festivals, you liked the lights, the huge Christmas tree, the many red sweaters your friends gift you "as a joke" (you have about 3 pair of 'jingle yo bells' sweaters that'll never see the light of the day).

Christmas, however, was also the time your (now) fiance has time off from his very busy career as a kpop idol. Sounds almost too funny to even say that, that you're engaged to a kpop idol. Up until September your engagement was kept a secret but one random day (your 3 month anniversary, he's a sap of course he celebrates monthly anniversaries) he decided to go on live and show off his ring. You weren't allowed access to your phone for the next 24 hours cause he knew you'd be upset by the "fans" that call you unworthy of having their idol.

Hyunjae behind the scenes was just a guy. Really. He was just some guy you met at a McD parking lot, just some guy who tore his shirt pocket to offer you something to wipe your tears with, this guy who you kept bumping into until you took the initiative to thank him for his help when you first met. Hyunjae was just some guy to you, he was nice to you always, a gentleman even when you weren't looking, funny without being offensive or rude and so easily attractive. He had the face that has the similarities of many others but even in a crowd of hundreds you could spot him, so really, hyunjae was just some guy, that you were undeniably attracted to.

You found out his rather popular status on your first non-date to a restaurant that was known for having the best Italian food in town. Dressed to kill -you-, he picked you up with a bouquet of pink roses, his white shirt complimenting your beige satin dress, you had to stop yourself fron thinking how you looked like a real couple. Your magical evening was rather interrupted by a big group of people wanting to take his autograph after he politely said no to pictures. You give him a soft smile as indication for him to sign the fans' merch but mentally you took a note of all the people trying to touch his arm.

I am so sorry for that I really tried to say no.

He didn't look as apologetic as he did anxious. Maybe this wasn't the first time his date was interrupted by his fans

It's okay. I really should remember that you're a k-pop star and not just some guy I'm hanging out with.

You wanted him to point out that this is more than just hanging out, that this is a date, that he's as smitten by you as you are by him. Instead he just gives a smile that feels rather staged, one that he'd pull in interviews that he hated. You wished you never said anything, of course this means nothing to him, you're just a regular person with a regular job, he's everything, he has everything and everyone why would this be more than hanging out of course.

You are shaken out of your trance as you feel his warmth beside you. Pulling you by your chair he makes you look into his eyes and with the smile he holds always, the genuine real smile, he holds your hand, you shiver as his cold hands meet your warm palm, you wonder how his warmth doesn't carry onto his hands, almost as if they were on their own, with their own mind.

I don't know how you feel and I won't assume, however, I have to be honest to you, this, between us is not just hanging out to me. I mean sure I love hanging out with you but not cause you're just some girl to me, and I don't say this to mock what you've just said, I'm trying to tell you how I feel. I'm trying to tell you I like you and that this dinner is a date, I'm sorry I didn't put it into words before and I'd accept if you'd want to hit me with this bouquet and if you don't speak to me after tonight, or after this long monologue, but I really like you and if you can tolerate few of our dates getting interrupted I swear there won't be anything else you'd have to complain about.

Hyunjae wasn't just some guy. He's never been. You knew who he was when you first met, the terrible day you've had suddenly felt so worth it seeing his face, his shirt pocket that had your mascara on it was the most important piece of clothing to you and every smile he gave you made you feel like you could die happily. You've thought about what he'd say if he knew that you knew, you knew that he had the whole world at his feet and you loved that he still chose to talk to you, that he could go upto any girl and yet he asked to sit beside you.

Hyunjae was everything to you, so when you feel tears stream down at his honest and oh so sweet confession, you weren't surprised. His panicked face reaching out for his shirt pocket again had you rushing for his hands and telling him and you weren't sad, just so so happy you couldn't stop the tears. He sat beside you for the rest of the dinner and just like every romance book ever written about gentlemen and perfect dates, he kissed you at your doorstep, and kissed you again as he closed the door behind you, and near your couch, and again on your bed as you both fell down softly on your maroon sheets.

Hyunjae is shy. He's been a shy guy for as long as you've known him, you did feel how he held you by your waist on your way to home tonight, but mostly hyunjae is shy. Which is why you gasped when his hands squeezed your waist as he moved lower to kiss your neck the way he kissed your lips, maybe worse than how he kissed your lips. His lips on your neck were accompanied by his tongue and soon his teeth, you've always been wary of intimacy but this right now, him touching you like you're his everything, like touching you is all he's made for, like he has to remove every touch that wasn't full of love, this right here felt so right, so good.

A whimper leaves your mouth when his teeth leave a mark at the sensitive spot on your neck, you hear him chuckle as his tongue follows right after. You feel as though you should stop him, as though you need to follow this imaginary rule of not doing anything more than a kiss on a first date, but you've been into him since the very first date and in your head all your "hangouts" were basically dates so it didn't really matte-

Get out of your head and come back to me. I want you to remember every touch, every kiss I want you here.

His voice pulled you out of your head as he hovered over your face. You pull him in for another kiss causing him to fall onto you completely and letting out a low groan that, for the first time in your life, aroused you more. Your hands grab his beautiful curls roughly as you deepen the kiss and simultaneously moan with how his body felt on yours. His hair was always your favourite feature of him, curls were so blessed to be adorned by him, something fans couldn't see often as he straightened them up for almost all of his appearances, his curls that made him look extra curly, his curls that were looking so sinful right now as he broke the kiss to kiss you right above your breasts.

Your hands wander down on his waist and his shirt that had risen up allowed you to have direct contact with his on so slender waist and you couldn't help but let your fingers trace his (very slutty) waists. Jesus, why did men (him) have such slutty little waists (you literally could foam at your mouth because of his waist). He seemed to have liked your wandering hands on his waist as he bit just above your left breast and pushed his waist closer to you, the movement causing you to come to the realisation of what this could progress to.

He was hard. Painfully so. It wasn't the first time you've felt a man hard above you, it was however the first time you've felt aroused by it, felt so aroused you couldn't help but whimper. He felt so big, scary even, and you hadn't even seen, or felt, rhe real thing yet, his pants blocking the reality from you.

He stops his tortures on you as he balances his body on his arms and gets up, still hovering, barely touching, ridding you of the pleasure of having him where you wnated.

Tell me to stop and I won't think twice. Tell me what you want and I'll do that, no more, never less. But I want you to tell me.

Would you think any different of me if I asked you to stop? It's not that I don't want it, god I do, I do want it so bad, I just want to I don't know maybe feel a little more comfortable with your touches, and it's not you at all, trust me, I just want to not be thinking so much and just feel, and I know I sound like I'm saying two things but it's just I don't know I jus-

Hey, hey, look at me, you're making sense and I get it, I'm not confused I understood 100% of what you just said. As far as thinking differently goes, nothing you say or do can change the way I feel about you, nothing. Don't worry okay? I'm your boyfriend now, I'm here when you wanna hang out, when you wanna cuddle, when you kiss and I'll be here when you'd want me to devour you.

He kisses you again, deeply, caressing your hair at the same time. He gets up to leave when you pull on his, now undone, shirt sleeve.

Would you- would it be okay if i ask you to stay? I meani totally understand if it'd be weird for you to yk just cuddle or whate-

Of course, I'd love to stay my love. I understand that you can't just stop overthinking just because I ask you to but with me even if you're overthinking something, just say it out loud, okay? Now change into something comfortable and let's get you to sleep.

As he held you in his warm embrace, you realised just how much more he meant to you. For the first time in a while, your brain wasn't racing and before you could spend more time embracing his features, sleep had taken over.

Things moved rather fast after that. Hangouts became sleeping in, dates eneded up with heavy makeouts and movie nights were always followed by him falling asleep halfway through on hour shoulder. You had gotten used to his out of nowhere kissed but his hands, his hands with a mind of their own always caught you by surprise. Hyunjae looked so oblivious to your gasps whenever he'd grab your waist a little too roughly or whenever they'd make contact with your collarbones when snuggled on the couch. Maybe he was oblivious to what his hands did to you, almost as if they were different from him, with a will of their own, with an obsession with having you always.

Hyunjae would be giving you feather like pecks on your face and his hands would be caressing your cleavage, sometimes hyunjae would be busy in reading the script of a variety show appearance and his hands would be drawing circles on your thighs, god you loved how free his hands were from him.

You were introduced to his members just weeks into dating him and all of them spoke of how he's turned into a sap and how he spends his free time smiling at your picture like a soldier away from his wife. Hyunjae would never be as risky as his hands, that would pull you to sit on his lap in his makeup room or pull you in an empty room and pull you close, too close to hyunjae.

You missed hyunjae when he had promotions, too busy to even have a proper conversation with you, you missed his hands on you the most whenever you saw him being a menace on stage. The same hands that had pulled your top down to your waist and hand grabbed your breasts like they were the most magnificent set ever, the hands that tortured you by squeezing your breasts but never doing more, the hands that grabbed the back of your neck when hyunjae marked up you collarbones, your jaw and almost your breasts.

You missed hyunjae and you missed him enough to know you'd give him all that you've wanted to since his confession. Not because he's hyunjae, not because he's your everything, not because you were dating, because you loved him, really truly, madly, you loved Hyunjae and if the words won't come out, you'll show in actions.

I AM SEEING YOU TODAY I'M SO HAPPY DID YOU MISS ME?

of course i did, you know i dont like sleeping without you:(

I know love, we'll have lots of cuddle time now, i have a week's free schedule. Im not gonna leave you alone for a single minute!

Can't wait!, I have a something to show you xD

👁️👁️ WHAT

you'll know <3

To say Hyunjae was surprised would be an understatement. Sure, he knew someday this day will come, but he did not expect his lover to -literally- pounce on him the second he walked in that door. He was pushed onto the closed door and his lips were now held hostage by his angelic lover who had switched places with the devil tonight with how she was letting her hands explore his body.

His hands not listening to him again pulled her off him and shoved her to the wall, switching the position, causing her to smirk instead of being surprised. Hyunjae wanted to talk, to caress her face, his hands? One grabbing her neck and pulling her close for a kiss deeper than the last, the other on her left breast already causing her to moan with the not so light squeezes.

I want you. All of you, tonight. I want you to have your way with me, to devour me liek you said you would, I just, I want you.

Hyunjae did not think twice as he pulled you towards your bedroom. Gently laying you on your bed he began undressing himself first, giving you the chance to admire his well toned body, his abs very visible enough just the way you loved and his prominent V line made you wet thinking about what follows. As he unbuttoned his jeans you could finally see his rather big dick's outline through his underwear, saving the best for the last he hovers over you as he kisses you softly and pulls your dress above your head. You get reminded that you were not wearing a bra with the way he gasps, his hands have had their sweet time with your boobs but this was Hyunjae's first time seeing your breasts our and proud and the way his mouth latched onto your right, you could conclude he loved them.

His left hand took the opportunity to squeeze the left simultaneously as you moaned loudly, causing hyunjae to grind onto you. Your hands found their way to his waist then went lower to his ass and jesus christ he worked out! His mouth and hand switched places as you pushed him closer, closer to where you needed him the most. Having him wasn't just a want to you, it was a need, like if he wasn't inside you anytime soon, you'd cease to exist. Hyunjae's hands being a step ahead went south and pulled your -soaked- underwear down. You'd be too embarassed of it wasn't for the growl that left his mouth when his fingers came in contact your wetness.

He kissed his way down and made eye contact with you as he kissed you there. One kiss turned into several and suddenly became licks and before you could process it all, he was eating you out, like he was an animal, like you were a candy, like he could devour you whole, like you deserved.

God, you make me so crazy. I feel like I'm losing my mind. You're so goddamn hot and just for me, I'm the only lucky man who gets to have you, just me. The luckiest man in the world.

You tried to push him away as you felt closer to an orgasm but he kept going. This side of hyunjae will be imprinted in your mind forever you think. You came and felt like your soul had left your body and was watching you from afar, hyunjae kept going until you were done coming down from your high. To give you a few minutes to breathe he went back up leaving soft kissed from your face and neck trying to calm you down and you once again felt like you've won in life.

Feeling the need to return the favour (& feeling bold in the moment) you push him on his back and try to pull his underwear down but get stopped in the middle.

Oh trust me I want this more than anything but tonight I want you to feel all that I've wanted to show you.

He lays you on your back as he stands up and pulls his underwear down, freeing the huge cock that you were -somehow- supposed to let inside. You gulp at the sight of him and watch as he stokes it to make it even bigger. You wonder if you'd survive this but conclude that it'd be the best way to go if you don't.

It will hurt and I don't say this to sound cocky but I'm a little bigger than most guys so it'll hurt a lot, but if it hurts way more than your tolerance please please tell me, I don't want our first time to be a painful experience for you, okay love?

I- uh, this will be my first time, ever. And I'm sorry I'm saying that right now but I just you never asked I never mentioned and now it's just, but it's okay if you'd wanna stop right now.

Fuck, okay. Don't feel bad babe, it's not weird, I'm honoured that you want me to be your first but I want to ask you once again, are you completely sure you want this? I can wait for you absolutely.

I want you, Hyunjae, I really do.

Hyunjae hovers over you again as he takes your lips in another kiss, somehow deeper than the rest. Tongues playing with each other as he lines up his cock near your entrance and slowly enters you. You feel the pain he mentioned but ask him to move on, after what feels like forever, he is inside you completely but doesn't move and you feel grateful cause he really wasn't kidding about being bigger than most men, he felt so deep inside, so close that the pain felt irrelevant. You whisper in his ear asking him to move and then lose all ability to talk once he does. You suddenly understood what people meant when they said sex could change you, in those first few thrusts you felt as though you'd already addicted and the way hyunjae was grunting, you could imagine he felt the same.

Countless curses and groans later you had kind of gotten used to his size when you asked him to go harder, he growled in your neck as he picked up the pace, his hands holding yours down, intertwined, just like the movies, but his noises, p0rnographic. He was rough in a way that made you feel like a slut, his own personal slut, but the way he kept kissing your face and whispering I love yous in your ear made you feel like his lover, his wife, his everything. You came in after his continuous thrusts to your sensitive spot and not long after he followed, shaking in your embrace and biting your neck.

Too tired to keep your eyes open you close them to rest a little and wake up next morning in a big tshirt cuddled in hyunjae's naked torso. You kiss his chest and heat him groan, so you do it again and again until he is hovering over you with your hands pinned over your head with one hand and the other caressing your thighs.

You know you never really let me do one thing last night.

He looks at you confused and before he can question you push him on his back straddling him, your naked core near his semi hard. You grind yourself on him as he groans and grabs your hips to steady your pace. You pull his hands away from you and you get down and get lower nearing his cock. He shivers as you kiss his hipbone and lets outs a loud moan when you hold his now hard dick in your hand.

His moans give you motivation to continue your movements as you lick along his big shaft and rhe way he gasps makes you confident that putting it inside your mouth till you felt him in your throat was a good idea. He was the singer anyway, your throat being used would not hamper your job. So you take him deep and you continue to suck him like your life, and his, depended on it. Hyunjae tells you he will kiss the ground you walk on when he comes.

Your relationship was never the same after. For the first few days you guys couldn't keep your hands off each other. Kitchen, couch, bathroom, the vanity, you had done it all and done it everywhere. On the 4th day Hyunjae was told he'd have to cut his trip shorter so he fucked you 5 ways into the fifth and last day of his little free time.

A month after that he had proposed in Pohang, one of your favourite places in the world and you had accepted with surprised and annoyed face cause you were literally out and about in his BIG hoodie and shorts and freaking flipflops. He promised he wouldn't post the pictures anywhere, he lied. On your 3 month anniversary he announced your relationship to his fans on live and while you came home to a dozen bouquets, your Instagram was filled with vile comments about how he deserved more.

He had his company file an official notice that they'd take legal action against harmful comments made towards you even though you said you didn't vet bothered by those comments (you did).

Christmas wasn't really your favourite of the festivals, but you came home to your fiance, Hyunjae, with his warm smile and soft curls falling onto his beautiful face, calling you his wife and kissing you breathless, and everything was merry.

this was written solely for @un-love i hope this filled tha hyunjae fic shaped void, hope you liked the smut xD

#hyunjae #the boyz #the boyz fic #hyunjae fluff #hyunjae smut #the lack of hyunjae smut is concerning #me? romanticing christmas? yup #lee jaehyun #lee jaehyun smut #the boyz smut #Spotify

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dekusleftsock · 1 year

Text

Did anyone see this? I feel like it’s a small detail in the pile of evidence for Izuku’s “control your heart” thing going on.

Hell, even Bakugou Katsuki Rising is referenced in the same chapter.

(Side note: me and my friend ended up spending 20 minutes identifying that flower, ty @the-real-loverboy for being my favorite flower nerd—regardless it’s called the Paris Japonica, a rare flower native to Japan that has the largest genome to our knowledge. Only problem? I can’t find any symbolism on this flower, and every source is written by white people in the west on how to care for the flower so. If anyone knows literally anything important about this flower, I’m very very interested. I know that it can bloom in the early winter and is more tolerable to colder climates, so maybe it’s a reference to rei/the general himura family? Who knows)

Going back to the original thought, I think the line “I wonder what changes we’ll witness… come tomorrow” has been kind of disregarded. And, as the newest spoilers have shown, the entire todoroki family is undergoing this evolution of the heart ALONGSIDE their own personal quirks.

Now, what does that have to do with bkdk and Izuku specifically? We have ofc, the plot line of Izuku not being able to control his heart for Katsuki, but what makes this situation unique is one for all itself.

Ofa, as I understand it, is a quirk closely related to romance. It’s surrounded all of Izuku’s emotions and close relationships, along with Nana’s signature line describing ofa as romantic. And, if we’re talking about near death experiences making these hidden parts of their quirks pop out unintentionally, then that would explain why Katsuki has a connection to ofa. From the ofa stars DURING Bakugou Katsuki Rising, to being able to meet and then talk to the Allmight vestige.

So, uncontrolled emotions, rejection of vulnerability, creates an intimate connection to anyone that Izuku the character, cares about.

On top of all of this, all of Izuku’s inner quirk stuff is so closely tied to his heart, that he doesn’t even need to be in life or death situations—it just has to feel like it. Anger so palpable, he literally unlocks blackwhip. Fear of his friends and fellow heroes demise so strong he unlocks float. And the list goes on and on, with him unlocking most of his quirks during his lowest low, his depressive episode.

Izuku doesn’t have to be dying like Touya does to lose control, he just has to vaguely feel like it.

And of the characters I feel have not evolved their hearts as much as their quirks, Katsuki and Izuku I feel will be the most passionate.

But I digress, here’s the people I believe will have this inner life or death quirk “awakening” because of their hearts: Toga, Ochako, Deku, Katsuki, Shigaraki, and the entire Todoroki family.

Now, controlling your heart and near death experiences, lets see—why are these two ideas so closely tied to each other? What makes them inherently unique in comparison to each other?

Or rather, a better question, what connects them?

I’d argue it’s acceptance. Pain could be another argument sure, but I feel like it’s way more common to just accept that your dying when you’re almost dead, than to actually register the pain from it.

And acceptance of the heart often comes hand in hand with those experiences—Endeavor knows he will die with Touya and he has accepted the fact that he was never enough for him as a father, but that if he can bring him to the sky, it will be okay because he can die with his son as penitence for his wrongdoings, while keeping the rest of his family okay. Probably better off without him because of his actions.

And Katsuki, during his death, has accepted his fate. But while doing so, he has also accepted that he won’t catch up to Izuku, that he truly has been a dorky fan of Allmight, that he can die loving him. (Love doesn’t have to mean romantic in this example, like yes I do believe they will be canon, but love is a loose term here because of what his death truly meant) Because that death meant accepting his care and his admiration of Izuku, that he’s always been looking behind him.

And this circles back to Izuku, with parallels between Rei chasing Endeavor into the fire paralleling Izuku chasing Katsuki into fire during the sludge villain fight, because endeavors death is—while poetic—ultimately only harmful. Yes he is saving the city and Japan, he is dying as a hero and protecting his family, but as Shoto said, they have to do it together. This isn’t Endeavor healing his heart, I would argue it’s meaningless sacrifice born out of guilt. Rei SHOULD help, Natsuo SHOULD help, Fuyumi SHOULD HELP! Shoto shouldn’t have tried to fight dabi on his own, because Enji and Shoto both feel entirely responsible for what Touya has become, when they aren’t!

People forget that Touya is a fucking adult. He’s a serial killer and an arsonist because he chose to be. That doesn’t mean he’s forever going to be the worst person in the world, but no one person is responsible for his actions other than him. And that’s a reality we have to accept with our trauma, our parents can exponentially fuck up and make us terrible people, but you as a person have every opportunity as an adult to change what they have made you become. Touya could have gotten a job if he was that mad at his dad, he could have just fucking knocked on the front door of his house, he could have chosen at ANY POINT in his life to say, “No, I shouldn’t do that.” But he simply didn’t.

And not Endeavor, not Rei, not Natsuo, not Fuyumi, and certainly not Shoto are responsible for that. Dabi is selfish. I love his character but that’s a fact. He is selfish because of his trauma yes, this is all born out of an innate childhood need for his fathers attention yes, but that doesn’t make it justified.

“But Sock what about what you said earlier about saving him together!” I still stand by both my points.

Dabi can both need to be saved AND can also be selfish for needing to be saved in the first place. Those aren’t opposite ideas, they can still coexist. And they can coexist because Dabi is a character written well! He’s not a “villain with the right ideas taken too far”, he’s a complex person with an interesting backstory who has still killed people. (Fun fact dabi has committed several war crimes under the Geneva Convention LMAO)

MHA describes heroics as oftentimes “sticking your nose in places where they don’t belong”, meaning even people who don’t necessarily want to be saved. Dabi can still be selfish and wrong while still needing to be saved and supported.

There’s this line in a fanfic I read, something about human beings sometimes not having enough time in their life to become a better person. For person A, maybe it takes a couple months and a few simple ideas. For person B, maybe it takes your whole life and then some to understand the weight of your own actions. And that doesn’t make person A or person B incapable of change, they can still just need a proper opportunity to understand, or practice to implement a new idea into their mind.

Maybe person B just needed better luck, maybe person A was just a teenager growing up, but they both can still change.

Tangent over about the Todoroki family, back to Izuku. Like Endeavor in this instance, Izuku is often the type to have this martyr mentality, but unlike Izuku, Endeavor is the one currently in the fire, or more rather, he is the one currently dying. Like Katsuki.

Katsuki has accepted his death in this war, that ship has sailed. He has come close to death and then actually died, and the todoroki’s are currently going through the process. So that leaves Izuku. (And technically Toga too, maybe ochako, but that’s for another meta one day maybe)

Will Izuku have to come close to death? I’m excited to see.

Idrk how to end this meta, I think I had other thoughts and ideas I wanted to share, (along with a better conclusion), but I forgot those ideas and stuff about half way through writing this.

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rachelfoleyisntdead · 6 months

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Need me some domestic Bireena, circa the Lin Kuei temple asylum era.

Sareena having to get used to operating as part of a unit,instead as a lone wolf. She's used to being part of a trio, but not a whole clan. So she kinda clings to Bi-Han when she's feeling awkward.

She half lives out of her own room and half out of Bi-Han's. She pretty much does what she pleases,when she pleases. Comes and goes as she wants, much to the annoyance of the other Lin Kuei members,who operate on a set schedule.

There starts to be little hints of Sareena's presence in Bi-Han's space. A random eyeliner that she left in his bathroom, her reading book of the week on his dresser. Her Lin Kuei badge when she gets it. Little things.

Oh,and she has the hardest time adjusting to the cold weather. Transitioning from constant heat(Netherrealm) to constant cold is no joke and she has no idea how to dress or deal with it. But Bi-Han helps her out by keeping her as layered up as she'll tolerate or personally making her tea or a warm meal every day(no one else's allowed to bring Sareena tea,just him).

I love the idea of Bi-Han making her some tea!!! I could see Sareena being a fan of puerh tea (I'm a tea nerd off of tumblr). Maybe at first no one thinks anything of it, that she's just bothering the Grandmaster as usual and he's humoring her, but slowly, mooncakes and sesame balls start showing up on the tea tray and the grandmaster does not snack--

Also Sareena sneaking into his bed bc she's cold. Even though she's got a half dozen blankets on her bed (certainly more than any of the other Lin Kuei are allowed). But that doesn't keep her as warm as cuddling up to Bi-Han. He pretends to be annoyed about this, warns her that it will not become a habit. But it does.

And maybe he gives her a thick, fur lined robe to keep her warm. One that possibly belonged to his mother. Which doesn't help with the whispers about how the grandmaster favors her but they'd never dare say it to his face.

#bireena #bi han #sareena #bi han x sareena #sareena x bi han

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 5 days

Text

I Am Blackened Bones (Part 5)

20 to 55 inches. 4 tons. 55 inches. 7 tons. 49 inches. 7 tons. 60 inches. 10,000 pounds….

She can’t remember why she is repeating it.

20 to 55 inches. 4 tons. 55 inches. 7 tons. 49 inches. 7 tons. 60 inches. 10,000 pounds…

She doesn’t think that there is a reason at all aside from that it is simply what she has always done.

20 to 55 inches. 4 tons. 55 inches. 7 tons. 49 inches. 7 tons. 60 inches. 10,000 pounds….

But it is becoming tired and tiresome. 20 to 55 inches. 4 tons. 55 inches…

The fire spirit frowns to herself. She has better things to think about, she just isn’t certain of what those better things are. So maybe it is less about having better things to think about and more about letting her mind be silent now.

Yes. That is what she wants; silence, even from her own mind.

Her mind doesn’t need to be noisy anymore. Her own inner chatter had only been there to take her mind off of the sensations that had troubled her body. That horrid and persistent burning and blistering. But she hasn’t felt singed nor sizzled since retreating further into the trees.

So what else can she think of, now that her mind has room for other things. She tilts her head to the side at the realization that she doesn’t really have much to think about at all and, even if she did, words are quite strange. She finds that some of them don’t really mean anything anymore. If they had ever meant anything at all.

She realizes that, that which she doesn’t remember doesn’t bother her.

If these things…these words were important she would remember them.

She would also remember it.

Whatever it is.

She has lost something, a few things maybe.

And she thinks that that something or those somethings might be the ‘it’ that might be important but certainly can’t be if she couldn’t be bothered to remember. And so maybe this thing or these things that she has lost aren’t really a loss or several losses at all.

The fire spirit has lost that nagging suffering and she certainly does not miss that.

And so the fire spirit wanders deeper into the jungle.

Deeper, where the pain grows fainter yet.

Deeper, where traces of what the spirit had once been snuff nearly completely.

.oOo.

Katara wipes beads of sweat out of her face. These Fire Nation summers are brutal and she is growing quite tired of having to whip out her water. She is equally as tired of passing it around to everyone. Moreso, she is worried that the water is becoming unsanitary. She is going to have to dump it and refill her waterskin, hopefully before her mouth grows parched and her throat runs dry.

She can tell that the others aren’t faring so well either. Each of their faces are slicked with sweat and Sokka is practically panting. Aang is fanning himself with airbending and Toph looks like she is ready to collapse onto the ground and burry herself beneath cool dirt. Zuko is the only one who seems to be tolerating the heat—naturally so.

Katara wipes the sweat from her forehead.

“Look!” Aang declares. “A river!”

She doesn’t need to look, she can hear it loudly and clearly and her heart tickles with relief and joy. Before she can even lift a leg, Sokka is bounding past her and leaping into the gently rippling waves.

“Sokka!” Zuko shouts. “We have to focus.”

“What we need is a break.” Toph counters. “We’ve been walking for hours. And we’ve been walking for hours this whole week.”

“I think that it has been a little more than a week.” Katara mentions.

“It has been.” Zuko confirms. “And so far we have no leads except for that guy who said that the last time he saw Azula, she was heading into this jungle.”

“He also said that he could have seen someone else entirely and that he didn’t get a good look.” Sokka calls as he dives back beneath the water.

“Come on, Zuko.” Aang smiles. “A small break couldn’t hurt, right?”

“We’re trying to find my sister!”

“She’s been missing for years.” Toph shrugs. “I think that fifteen more minutes won’t really make much of a difference.”

Zuko grits his teeth and balls his fists. Katara puts a hand on his back. “It’ll take longer if you argue with them. We can’t find Azula if we are tired and dehydrated. I have to refill my waterskin anyways and we could all use a bath.” She is under the impression that Sokka has reached a level of odorous that can get them hunted by vicious peacock-lions and jaguar-gorillas.

Zuko sighs. “Fine, but make it quick.” He folds his arms across his chest and finds a large rock to sulk upon.

Katara can’t help but smile; at least Azula has someone who is worried about her. In spite of everything, she finds herself hoping for the best for the former princess. But somehow she finds herself fearing the worst. She can’t name many people living good lives just up and leaving them behind for a mysterious, muggy, foggy jungle.

Katara pours her dirty water over a few nearby ferns. The ground eagerly soaks it in and she eagerly kneels down to refill her waterskin with purer waters. She should probably fill a second—one for drinking and one for keeping cool.

She rises back to her full height and fixes the waterskins back onto her belt before making her way to a fallen tree. It isn’t the most comfortable looking seating arrangement, but it isn’t jagged and pointy like the rock Zuko has picked. She imagines that he will be grumbling about an aching rear soon enough and it will serve him right for being so careless about where he sits.

Katara brushes some dirt off of the bark and purses her lips. “Huh?” She hums to herself, holding her pointer and middle fingers level with her eyes. She furrows her brows. “Is this…ash?”

“What?” Zuko asks.

“Ash…” She repeats with a gesture to her sullied fingers.

Zuko shrugs. “What about it? There’s ash everywhere in the Fire Nation.”

And finally she places precisely what makes her feel so unsettled. “But these ashes are still warm.”

Now Zuko is on his feet. On his feet and walking towards her while she slowly extends her arm and holds her palm to the fallen log. It too is a little more than just warm, and it has the scorch marks to prove that she isn’t just feeling something that isn’t there.

Just far enough to be discernible but not far enough for her comfort, there comes a rustling. Katara holds her breath and squints into the treeline. And…there! She catches a blur of motion. Something almost bright. At least she thinks that she does.

Her heart is pounding. “Zuko…”

“I heard it.” He says through gritted teeth as Aang lets out a loud laugh and splashes Sokka. “Quiet!” He snaps but Aang and Sokka aren’t paying attention to him.

“It’s behind that tree!”

Katara jolts. If Sokka had seen that, he would make a point of popping out at her at random times for the rest of their time in the jungle. “Don’t do that, Toph!”

“Sorry.” Toph mutters. “Just trying to help.”

“What’s behind the tree?” Zuko asks. They now have the attention of Aang and Sokka and, probably, the thing behind the tree.

“I don’t know. But it’s pretty small.”

Katara relaxes just a little. Zuko does not, he creeps closer to the tree that Toph had pointed to. Toph who is shaking her head. “It’s not there anymore.” She whispers. But only Katara hears her. Zuko is still creeping towards that tree. Toph stands rigidly while Katara steps to the right, opposite of Zuko. To the right, where she had heard the faintest pop. She takes a deep breath and gets down on all fours to peer under another fallen tree.

She sees the face but only for a flicker, certainly not long enough to tell what kind of expression it wears. But she knows that it isn’t human. She jerks back, falling on her rear with a rather shrill cry.

“Katara!” Aang rushes towards her. Sokka in tow with his boomerang raised.

The spirit throws itself atop the fallen tree and looms over her. It wears a halo of fire that flares like a lion-peacock mane. She can hear the pop and crackle of it. She screams again. But the spirit doesn’t leave its new perch. She scuttles back and out of the spirit’s shadow. It doesn’t follow. It doesn’t move at all, not in her direction anyhow. Instead it backs away, pressing itself against an upright tree.

And Katara realizes that the fire spirit is screaming too. She lets out a breath that she hadn’t realized that she had been holding; if the spirit is shouting then it is just as startled as they are. And if it is scared of them then they don’t have to fear it.

“Sokka, you can put your boomerang down. It’s just scared.” Katara says.

“Exactly!” Sokka shouts. “Cornered animals are twice as likely to strike!”

“Well good thing we cornered a spirit and not an animal.” Toph shrugs. “And also it isn’t cornered it’s backed up against a tree.”

“That’s not better.” Zuko grumbles.

The poor spirit tries to back further into the tree. Katara sees smoke rippling off of the bark just as the smell of burning wood enters her nostrils. Her heart aches for the spirit. “Maybe we should back up.” She suggests. “And, for Raava’s sake, lower your boomerang, Sokka!”

The spirit holds its spindly, fiery arms up to its chest. If Katara didn’t know any better she would say that it is shaking. She should probably lower her voice. “Hey…” She starts, offering a slight smile. “It’s alright, we didn’t mean to bother you. We were just trying to cool off.”

The spirit slinks away from the tree slowly, cautiously. It is still breathing heavily. Although breathing might not be the right word to use for a spirit. She doesn’t think that spirits can breathe. But this one has a heart–visible and glowing violently orange behind bones. Or branches? Bones and branches? Katara squints, the spirit’s collarbones, she realizes, are bone with streaks of wood fused to it. The glow of the spirit’s heart casts shadows. And that glowing, shadow-casting heart is beating. So maybe the spirit can breathe. Its belly roars with each inhale and flames burst from between its blackened ribs with every exhale.

Aang raises his hands, “it’s alright.” He promises. And in that cheerful, reassuring tone that she had cherished so much as a child he adds, “We’re just passing through.”

The fire spirit tilts its head.

“We’re actually looking for somebody.” Zuko mutters.

Katara nudges him and, through gritted teeth, grumbles, “not now!”

“Sorry.”

The fire spirit takes a step back and Katara fears that it might flee. From the looks of it, Sokka and Zuko are hoping for just that. But she isn’t. She can’t explain it but she wants the spirit to stay.

Katara takes a few steps back for herself. Compared to some spirits that she has seen on their adventures—the scariest of them—this one is so small. No bigger than Aang had been when they’d found him in that iceberg. Now and then the fire that halos the spirit will puff and flare and it looks much larger. Just moments ago, the spirit had been gleaming like the sun. But now that it has calmed, those flames have settled, flickering instead like little candles upon its head and shoulders. Katara thinks of a boar-q-pine with fiery quills.

It tilts its head again.

It is curious, Katara realizes.

Katara holds her hand up and waves. The spirit might be waving back or it might simply be imitating what it has just seen.

It tilts its head in the other direction and fixes eyes like firefly bulbs upon her. In each socket swim three tiny yellow orbs and all six seem to peer directly into her soul. Its gaze is terribly intense.

Slowly it lifts its arm.

Slower still it extends its arm.

Katara gulps.

“We’re looking for someone.” Sokka says abruptly before the spirit can get too close. It flinches back at the sound of his voice, withdrawing its arm in a snap. “Maybe you’ve seen her.”

The fire is flaring around its head again, darkening from orange to an agitated red. “Sokka…” Katara can’t bring her voice any louder than just above a whisper. The spirit steps closer.

“Get away from her!” Zuko shouts, fire bursting into his palms.

The spirit lets out a horrid screech and the fire on its body seems to retreat into its bones and its woodsy arms. Before Katara can get a good look at its face without the fire, the spirit throws itself back into the underbrush, back into the thick of the trees, leaving only smoldering rings upon fern leaves and a pile of ash in the dirt to prove that it had been there at all.

.oOo.

The fire spirit curls herself up under the roots of a banyan tree. She thinks that those people hadn’t meant to frighten her anymore than she had meant to frighten them. They hadn’t meant to hurt her. At least she doesn’t think that they had. But she is in pain all the same and they had caused it.

She draws her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them, rocking herself back and forth. But that doesn’t soothe the searing pain. She doesn’t remember much but she remembers this particular burning–how it had plagued her relentlessly for days…weeks…months? She realizes that she doesn’t know what days, weeks, and months are. They are words without concept. She has lots of those; “we’re looking for someone” and “we’re not going to hurt you” among them.

But, even if the rest is lost on her, she knows what hurt is and she knows what fear is. And, whatever their human speech was meant to reassure her of, they had hurt her.

They had hurt her after making promises that she couldn’t understand. What she does understand is emotions and the energies that accompany them. They hadn’t radiated malefic auras. It was mostly fear, not unlike her own. Fear and a touch of curiosity. Compassion?

And so she isn’t angry.

She is just hurt.

She is just afraid.

And she can’t exactly place where the fear is coming from. They had let her leave. They hadn’t followed her. They had been doing their best to convey a comforting aura. And yet she is terrified. Haunted in a way that she understands less than she understands everything else.

She can’t recall but they seem familiar in a way that makes her fear them in spite of their attempts to be approachable.

The spirit nestles herself further into the friendly darkness of the banyan roots and curls herself up.

She hopes that these people with their loud voices and flashy weapons will leave soon.

#avatar the last airbender #azula #katara #zuko #aang #sokka #toph #fanfiction

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rose-riot-johnson · 3 months

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Okay my Tumblr Peeps... I decided to write a fanfic about non other than Bleach's very own Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez🐆😁👍It may not be my 1st time writing about him, to be honest, however it's definitely my 1st time writing about him by himself🐆😃👍Any1 who is a fan of Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, I definitely have a treat for you🐆😁👍I just have so many ideas I have planned for this fanfic about Grimmjow😃👍 Also, apologies ahead of time if Grimmjow's pov, ends up having more paragraphs than the reader' pov (which I labeled your pov), considering this is the first fanfic I will have reader's pov and the character's pov😅

*This fanfic contains 1 or more long paragraphs😅

🩵🐆What Happened To You, During The Nightclub Incident🐆🩵(Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x Female Reader)

Genres: Angst (Possible Dark Angst) (Warning⚠️: Language, Trigger Warnings Include; Alcohol Consumption, Drugging, Violence, Blood, and Anything Unspeakable Depending On the Reader's Imagination)

The introduction:

You were invited by your friends to go with them to a night club they frequently go to. You accepted their invite, because you really have never been to a night club or any bars before, you were more comfortable going to places with your friends for some reason, and you weren't sure if you would have that opportunity again. You felt like you have known your friends for years, that they're the best friends you had ever had and you figured they're the ones you have your back. You truly trust no one else as much as you trusted your friends, so you believe in your heart that you could never have better friends than the friends you have...

Your pov:

You were already dressed, dolled up, and ready by the time your friends picked you up from the nightclub, your friends took you. You were extremely excited to to be there for the first time ever. You then noticed a man with blue hair and blue eyes, who was smiling at you (while drinking a glass of vodka), however his expression seems to switch after he saw your friends. Your friends told you that he's like this with most people and is a trouble maker, then told you to watch out for him, because they think he's a creep with anyone he likes, not to trust him, and called him a "sexual predator". To you he didn't seem like it, however how can you not trust your friends you figured.

A group of men, then went up to you, as your friends introduced you to the men who are near you. These men also said some things about him, as if they're warning you about him, then one of these men seemingly assured you, "Pay no attention to him! He may start trouble, but we know how to deal with trouble makers like him! Just let us know, if he starts anything with you!", before he seemingly warned you, "If I were you, I'd keep my distance from him!", After they went elsewhere inside the nightclub, one of your friends said, "See? Even these gorgeous guys said this blue hair guy is trouble... But don't worry, (Female Reader Name)..., Then the friend who was talking was encouraging you to dance with one if the other me on the dance floor.

You were having so much fun dancing on the dance floor that you forgot your drink. After you got done dancing with the guy, you went back to where your friends were, as they cheered you on, before drinking your drink. "It's strange... I only took a couple sips of the drink and I'm feeling kinda funny right now...". Your friends then laughed as one of them said, "Maybe because your alcohol tolerance is low and we need to get it up higher...", before the second friend said, "Or possibly you're having such a good time, where you forgot you couldn't handle your booze", as all of your friends laughed before you feel into one of the men's arms passing out and drugged...

Grimmjow's pov:

Grimmjow is an (sixth or shall we say sexta) Espada, type of Arrancar, which is a type of hollow. He would occasionally go to the night club, to have a couple drinks, while trying to keep to himself (despite of his temper), then leave, however the night you went in that nightclub with your friends, he watched you. He sees your friends often when he's there (and he couldn't stand them), however to him there's something about you that is different about you.

While Grimmjow watches you he saw a group of men hanging around your friends, telling you negative stuff about him, as one of these men say, "Pay no attention to him! He may start trouble, but we know how to deal with trouble makers like him! Just let us know, if he starts anything with you! If I were you, I'd keep my distance from him!", as if he was warning you. After they went elsewhere inside the nightclub, they talked to you, as if they seemed like to have your back, then acted like they're encouraging you, as they had you dance with one of the other men on the dance floor. Once you went on the dance floor with one of the other men, it the man who was talking, the rest of the men, and your friends were putting stuff in your drink that appears to be, roofies (short for the actual name, rohypnol), ecstasy, and cocaine, all mixed together right with the alcohol you were drinking and Grimmjow madesure he recorded the whole thing.

The reason why Grimmjow can't stand your friends nor those men you just met, because he has been overhearing some stuff they mean stuff about you and even said about you as they complained, "I wished we could just get rid of her, because why I don't know why in the fuck we're friends with that loser in the first place, besides feeling sorry for her!", then the men would come over look for a "hot chick" to do unspeakable things to and your friends mentioned about bringing you over to the nightclub for them to try laying their hands on you. So, when the night that you came with your friends arrived he knew he had to find a way to get proof, so ofcourse he's going to record your friends true colors with his touchscreen cellphone.

As much as it makes Grimmjow cringe only rewatch and record the whole thing, especially with your friends calling you a "bitch" and a "virgin hoe", then laughing at you from feeling the drugged effect of drinking the beverage your friends and the rest of the group of men put drugs in, before you ending up passed out drugged up into the talkative man's arms, Grimmjow knows he rather not cause trouble until he's done recording, while he sensing your friends take advantage of you by their backstabbing tactics for how naive and gullible you really are with them, and will need some form of solid proof to show you who "your friends" truly are. After he gets done recording, the group of men were about to take you to the ally way, however before they were able to carry you outside to take you to the ally way, Grimmjow went up to the men and began to punch one of the men in the face and knocked him out cold. The rest of the men tried attack him and quickly bring you outside, he pound some of their heads to a bloody pulp, twist a couple of the men's arms, a few he gave them a bloody nose, and he even kicked the talkative man in the balls. When one of your friends tried to complain and the rest of your friends were about to take you outside to dispose of you, by throwing you in the dumpster, Grimmjow scolded, "Don't you dare fucken, do what I fucken think you're about to do as your back up plan! I knew you were terrible friends to your friend who is (Female Reader Name)! However I just didn't fucken know you ladies and those men were in on drugging the kind looking lady! You ladies and those men seem like you're all out to get her! You are basically working with those men who have a history of drugging other women! For all of your actions you ladies have committed, none of you deserve a friend like her! Infact she deserves better than two faced backstabbing jerks like all of you ladies! Every single one of you disgust me! We're leaving and never coming back here!". Grimmjow then carried you in his arm, leaving the nightclub and finding a place to take care to look after you.

The aftermath of the nightclub incident:

As you were waking up, you saw that you weren't in the nightclub with your "friends". You saw you were in an abandoned motel room that doesn't look abandoned, then you saw the blue haired man your friends and the group of men were talking bad about, as if they seemed to warn you. You were frightened and was thinking about trying to run away out of fear, however the blue haired man calmly said, "Relax... You're safe now... From all of the times I heard your so called friends mentioned about you and your name, you must be (Female Reader Name), if I'm not mistaken...", before introducing himself, "My name's Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez... Call me Grimmjow...". You then in a frightened state cried, "Why are you talking about about my friends? And you are the bad man who my friends and those men warmed me about... What have you done to me? What have you done to my friends?". Grimmjow gave you an annoyed and not surprised look as he replied, "What I done to you and what have I done to your friends?! I knew you would believe everything they say! It's more like what those men and your "friends" did to you and their motives! I saved your life! Those friends of your are not your friends and are backstabbers who only took you as a friend out of pity! They even called you a loser and I don't see why they think of you as such! Those men and those who you call your friends are fucken cowards and your friends were even about to throw you in the dumpster after I defended you against those men who were about to do unspeakable things to you!", before handing you his cellphone, as he continued, "And if you don't fucken believe me, you have my permission to see the video of last night! Watch the evidence of your fake friends true colors, while I cook some food for you!".

You watched the whole video, Grimmjow recorded. As you were watching the video, you were horrified at everything he was recording. What your "friends" and those men doing with your drink, everything your "friends" said about you, them laughing at you while you were drinking and you passing out drugged after you were drinking. You ended up shaking wondering if you really are everything your friends said about you or if you could really trust anyone, before you bursted to tears. Once Grimmjow finished cooking, he then went to check on you, as he then said, "I'm truly sorry you haf to see this video for yourself, however I can sense your so naive and gullible to the point where you believe everything they say! I hate to say this... They probably have never been truly your friends...".

You went to hug Grimmjow as you cried on his left shoulder, as you continued to sob, "This is all my fault! If I never had any drinks, then non of this would have happened! If I can't trust my friends, who in the hell can I trust?!". Grimmjow then hugged you, while petting the back of your head, as he replied, "Unfortunately that's life... They're just the wrong friends for you... Also don't blame yourself! None of this is your fault and you didn't know better! Those me and your fake friends are in fault... Not you! Now you know who really are trying to make you their prey... And I get we just met, however maybe we should know eachother better, so we can work on trusting eachother... I will admit... I might be an asshole, but I'm not as heartless, as I seem to be...". After the conversation you and Grimmjow had together, he letted you eat the food he cooked for you that you were able to eat up, to ensure you feel better, considering you were having an upset stomach from what happened to you at the nightclub that night.

After you were feeling all better, you and Grimmjow agreed on letting you live in Hueco Mundo, considering that you would live anywhere he would live in. Despite that he did warn you that Hueco Mundo is a dangerous place to live in considering there are hollows who are extremely strong, mean, and heartless who have no honor, you still would be happy to go anywhere with him, because he saved your life and you knew you would feel safer in Hueco Mundo, than you would bring around those who you thought were your friends. Years after living with Grimmjow in Hueco Mundo, you never looked back, as you felt in your heart, soul, and gut that this is one of the best decisions you had ever made. (Up to the reader's imagination if she does end up having a relationship with Grimmjow)

🐆🩵The End🩵🐆

I will admit I did get alot of ideas for this Grimmjow fanfic and I decided the ideas I have written down for the fanfic, I'm not letting that go to waste and I really had fun coming up with ideas for this fanfic about Grimmjow🐆😃👍Last year, I was going to write a similar idea with a particular Soul Reaper who I haven't written about before, however I cancelled out on a similar idea, because I did procrastinate on some fanfics and haven't continued on with certain fanfics in the drafta such as the fanfic idea I had for this particular Soul Reaper, I wasn't 💯% sure if I could pull off with the similar idea at the time last year, and I basically couldn't keep ideas for this similar fanfic while continuing on with other ideas with it where I letted the ideas for planning a similar go to waste last year. Fortunately ideas for this Grimmjow fanfic came in my head and despite of these ideas going in my head there are alot of inspirations for this Grimmjow fanfic. If I did make any spelling or grammar mistakes I may have rushed the fanfic without reading it thoroughly and stuff, otherwise I did try my best with spelling and grammar while trying to look on spelling with certain words. As for "bitch" or "virgin hoe", I have used the word virgin before, while the words "bitch" and "hoe" I rarely use with writing fanfics, however considering the way I'm writing about the reader's friends, their motives, and stuff, this is 1 of the rare fanfics I have written "bitch" and/or hoe in. As for Grimmjow, I really wanted to write something about him. Months before I discovered Tumblr, I grew fascinated with Grimmjow😃👍I just knew there's something to like about him. To be honest, I just like him, with or without any reasons🐆😁👍As time went by, I have found out there are other people who like him, which I'm really happy about🙂 I also have been thinking about possibly writing another Grimmjow fanfic or so somewheres in the future, even if it's near future🐆😃👍Anyways my Tumblr Peeps, I hope you enjoyed this Grimmjow fanfic I have written 🐆😁👍

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bokettochild · 2 months

Note

Opera house AU

I can actually see Linkle being pretty close to Wind and Aryll. She's just as responsible with them as Wars, but more open to Shenanigans. The four have the most intense board game nights ever seen, there's more double dealing, backstabbing and gerrymandering in their average game of Settlers of Catan then the 2020 US Election

Well, since you asked (suggested?)

Happy late birthday! Here is the Catan fic we've been chatting about!

There are many ways Warriors likes to de-stress after a long day at work. Running into his twin sister outside of his apartment though, is not one of them.

It’s not that he dislikes his job, in fact, he’s very fond of it. He likes acting, he likes the opera, and most importantly, he likes his boss, his co-workers, and even most of his fans. His agent, not so much, but that’s neither here nor there; almost nobody likes their agent. The only people he’s heard of who like their agent are Legend and Ravio, and that’s only because Dot is their so-called ‘agent’, if only on paper. The girl isn’t fully qualified for the actual job, but he’s half a mind to sign with her once she is, if only to get away from the Dragmire agency.

Regardless of future plans though, he loves his job. He has no intention of leaving, even if balancing rehearsals and college is a bit of a struggle on some days. Today is one of those days though, and after spending all day working with Sky and Time on choreography, the only thing he wants to do is make dinner for himself and the kids, kick his feet up, and finally read something other than a textbook. No, check that, maybe watch a show with Wind; Aryll too if she’s interested, although she usually isn't. Still, he has the feeling if they start watching anything, she’ll come out for snacks and cuddles, which he doesn’t mind in the least.

He’s running down the list of movies they’ve been wanting to watch as he climbs out of his car. Some of them are action, some thriller, a couple mysteries at his insistence and of course some pirate ones for Wind. Usually, he’s not so keen on that sort of thing, but he supposes the whimsical part of his brain has been gathering dust for the last while, and he could probably tolerate a pirate movie tonight, after sufficient begging from his cousin and maybe the promise to get the dishes done for the next week.

Right, dishes.

Heavens, he needs to talk to the landlord about when the new dishwasher is supposed to be installed. He also needs to wash and put away the dishes from last night, because he’d had an assignment due and hadn’t had time once the kids had gone to bed, and this morning he had to drop them off at school, so there wasn’t time then either. Honestly, you’d think three people wouldn’t use that much kitchenware, but the full sink waiting for him in the third-floor apartment would indicate otherwise.

Warriors sighs. Keys in the front door but know not yet turned, he takes a moment to just... lean against the doorframe and sigh.

It’s been a long week.

“Link!”

The sound of his name, his birth name, even spoken by a familiar voice, makes him start, and he goes from leaing on the door to slamming his head against it in surprise, keys already ripping out of the lock and brandished like they could actually do any harm. Well, they could, but not as much as a proper weapon. He hates city rules; back home he could have a switchblade on him and no one would think anything of it!

He doesn’t need a weapon though, at least at the moment, because the person standing behind him is his twin sister, and honestly, even if he was properly armed, she’s almost as good with a switchblade as he is, and she’d probably be able to dodge an attack even if he did make one. As it is, the blonde woman stares at him, bright eyes hard for a moment and smile frozen as she takes him in, but then it’s gone and she’s all sunshine and madness again, something wild in her smile that has him on edge for a whole new reason. A reason that has nothing to do with mistaking her for one of his stalkers. “I‘m so glad you’re home! I brought something for you and the kiddos!”

Loosening his fingers, he lets most of his keys fall free again from between them, door key still in hand as he fumbles for the knob, wary of turning his back even if it is his sister. Especially if it is his sister; she’s unpredictable at the best of times, and he’s not sure she won’t pull something if he’s not looking. It wouldn’t be malicious, but it would be incredibally annoying, and they both know it. Her attempt at an innocent smile as he finally slides the key into the lock says that she knows it, and she doesn't regret it either.

“Do I want to know?”

A shrug, but her smile lingers, bright and chipper, and he can’t help how the sight of it makes him smile in answer.

“Is it chaos contained, or something nice?”

“Can’t it be both?”

“No pyrotechnics in my home. I will kick you to the curb and block you from all social media; even the opera one.” Linkle pouts, which would be effective from any of their other sisters, but considering they’re nearly identical twins, it just makes him snort in laughter instead. “Well, is it a nice surprise, or one that will make me disown you?” he chuckles, pulling the door open, and then wincing when it squeaks.

He needs to talk to the landlord about that too, he supposes. Mentally, he adds it to the list: dishwasher, squeaky door, and the flickering hall lights. Honestly, he swears no one in this building talks to the guy anymore! If he doesn’t call, nothing’s ever done about these things!

He must sigh aloud, because Linkle starts shaking her head, clucking her tongue like Mother used to when they were small. “You need to find a better place to live.” She ducks in through the door without invitation, but he holds it open for her all the same. It has to be tugged firmly so that the lock clicks back into place again, but it’s long since become habit to do that; it’s an old building, the door frames warp with time. Honestly, pulling the door shut is the least of his worries about this place.

“It’s cheap.”

“You have kids living with you.” She reminds him.

He shrugs, juggling his bookbag, keys and the grocery bags he’d grabbed on his way home, in order to find his other apartment key; the one for his unit, not just the front door. “Know another place where I can rent a clean three-bedroom apartment; I’m all ears.”

His sister’s fist makes contact with his shoulder in answer, but he’s been fielding punches from Sky all day, and it honestly hurts far less than the skyloftian’s blows. Usually, he dodges Sky just fine, but he’d been a bit off his game today, and he’s pretty sure he’s got some nasty bruising under his shirt as a result, although admitting as much to Time, or Sky for that matter, is out of the question. They'd been worried enough as was. He’s fine, honestly. The skin is tender, and the muscles will be sore, but letting them know that would just upset his co-worker, not fix it. And would’ve made Time’s scolding to them both far more intense.

He knows, beneath that harsh veneer, that their director is a kind man, but on days like today, it’s easy to forget that. Maybe he needs to text Twilight and tell him to let the old man watch Legend for a day, that might get him to ease up.

Linkle, beside him, must get tired of him fumbling his keys one handed, because she snatches them out of his hand with a put-upon sigh, flicking through them until she finds the right one and unlocking the door for him. Honestly, he doesn’t mind. If anything, it means he can re-distribute the weight of the grocery bags between here and the kitchen counter.

“I’m home!” He calls, stepping into the door and sliding his shoes off onto the mat. Linkle has to crouch to untie her steel-toes, but those too join the three other pairs on the mat as he moves to the kitchen, relief washing over him as he sets the groceries down. There’s shuffling from down the hall, one or both of the kids busy in their rooms. Like their old hound, Linkle starts towards the sound immediately, back-pack still slung over one shoulder while he turns his attention to putting away food and starting a pot of water for pasta.

No pyrotechnics, he reminds himself. No destruction. Linkle wouldn’t actually, he thinks- he hopes, but he’s still got no clue what her “surprise” is. Knowing her though, she’ll tell the kids she has one, then hold it over their heads through dinner. Ah well, better to get food on the proverbial table sooner rather than later, that way the eager nagging won’t last forever.

Warriors isn’t the best cook, not by any means, but he’s managed to keep himself and his kid cousins alive this long, and while he’s under no delusions that his work in any ways lives up to Granny’s cooking, the kids are happy, and well fed, and that’s really all he can ask for. Sure, food is messy, and yes, there's dishes left, but Linkle, sweet, sweet Linkle, his bestest twin sister, has bribed their cousins into washing the dishes before they can have their surprise. Neither question it.

He could have asked them to help, but putting his feet up while they work never sits well with him. Aryll pushing him into the family room and into his recliner while Wind scurries around the kitchen, cajoling Linkle for clues, well, that’s a different matter! The girl won’t let him get up!

“We’ll hurry!” His youngest cousin promises, yanking on the lever on the side of the chair and making him laugh as his feet are literally swept up in front of him onto the footrest. Linkle cackles too, but then Aryll’s bouncing over to the kitchen, voice shrill. “Wash faster, Wind! I wanna see the surprise!”

He laughs at the two, soft, so they don’t hear and think he’s making fun of them, but he can’t help it. Likewise, his twin does the same, moving to climb into the recliner opposite his own. “Oh dear, poor Link! No dishes for him to wash!”

“Poor me,” he sighs, sinking into his chair and blessing his past self for buying the set. It was a bit of a splurge, but it’s proved to be worth it over the years, and a great delight at the end of a long day. He’s just letting his eyes slip closed- not to sleep, but to rest them long enough that light doesn't hurt- when a flick to his nose has him blinking up at his sister again with a huff. “Seriously?”

“Don’t go sleeping now, there’s still a surprise,” she scolds.

“For the kids,” he rubs at his nose. That hurt. “It doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

“Did I say that?”

“Linkle.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Another sigh. “No, I suppose you didn’t.”

“It’s for all of us,” she says, but her voice is low, conspiratory, and there’s that twinkle in her eyes again.

He has some concerns, but he doesn’t speak them. No. Instead, he humors his sibling while the kids clean up, and then when they've all gathered again in the family room, Aryll squishing up beside him and Wind flopping down in an ungraceful pile of teenage boy on the floor, he turns to stare pointedly at his twin. “I believe there’s a surprise someone owes us?”

Another sly little grin, but the backpack is opened, and a brightly colored parcel, somewhat badly wrapped and definitely scuffed, is produced and dropped into Aryll’s lap. “There we go.”

No cue needs be spoken, little hands are already tearing away paper, and while neither of the two younger ones is really sure of what it is once the paper is gone, Warriors can’t help the deep belly laugh that explodes out of him when he sees the familiar box. “Catan? Linkle, are you kidding me?”

“I thought the kids-”

“Oh, sure! ‘The kids’!”

She’s laughing too, although she’s trying so hard to pretend that she isn’t. “Yes! You never have any good family games here-”

“We have Monopoly!” Their young cousins chorus, but the words get drowned out by his twin’s own.

“-so, I thought I’d get you one!”

“You’re a glutton for punishment, you are.” He laughs. “Was it not bad enough, me handing you your ass all those years as a kid? Need me to do it again, do you?”

The kids are exchanging a look, confused but amused, glancing between the two adults with expressions that he’d dare say are amused, in their own way. They both definitely take after their mum; he swears Wind’s eyeroll is just the same as the diva’s aunt when she was left out of a conversation by her older siblings, his own mother included. Still, he takes his time teasing his sister for a moment more, before finally both twins decide to explain how to play to the kids, who are all too eager to learn now in the wake of their banter.

“So, it’s pretty simple,” he opens the box as he speaks. It’s a new one, the game, and doesn’t nearly crumble under his fingers, but he’s dreadfully careful all the same, out of habit. The pieces sit in their little plastic cubbies within for all of a moment, before a flick of the wrist has the box spilling onto the coffee table where they can all reach. The ‘thief’ piece rolls off the side, and Wind dives for it, but honestly, Warriors isn’t worried about it. “I’ll show you how to assemble it, but play is easy enough.”

And assembly is easy. Their old game was so used it was warped on the edge of the frame (Lilly had spilled water on it when she was tiny) but the ocean painted pieces fit nicely together with this one, and after a quick shuffle of the hexagonal land tiles, he lays them out at random into the frame. Well, mostly at random. The desert tile goes in the middle, because it always does. Linkle snorts at him for it too.

“Desert in the middle.”

“It’s not a rule.” She points out, as if she wouldn't protest if he'd done anything ese.

“House rules. My house, my rules.” He’s not mad though, even if his tone is flat, and Aryl is now the one rolling her eyes as Wind sighs at them, head propped up in his hands and making his cheeks squish adorably.

“You two are ridiculous.”

“We’re adults,” he corrects, continuing to set the tiles, “which means we take the time to be dumb when we can.”

A brow raises in answer, the older of his two charges leveling him with a Look. “I have video evidence otherwise.”

“And I have baby pictures I’m happy to leak,” he tugs his cousin’s ear in response, “don’t make me use them, snickerdoodle.”

That seems to get the kid to stop with his threats, which is for the best because he most certainly does not want Linkle to have all the details about his work life. Wind, he doesn’t mind knowing, Aryll too, but his twin is a whole other matter; he doesn’t want the chaos from work to spread to the family. He’d ever lie it down.

“So how does play work?” Aryll asks, already spilling out the packets of little wooden buildings and roads into neat piles along the edge of the table, color coded because of course she does.

Warriors grins at her, setting the box aside and resisting, barely, the urge to shove it on Wind’s head. He’s an adult though, a responsible one, and he will not display such behaviors. No, he’ll just kick their asses in game with a smile on his face. “Well, now that the land is spread out, which you do at random, we have to lay the number tiles, here-” he picks up the back, tugging it open and spilling it into his hand for the middle schooler to see, “-out on top of the land pieces.”

“Also, at random,” Linkle adds, swiping one. “You place them on whatever order you get them, on every land piece except the desert one.”

“What goes there?” Wind asks, fidgeting with the ‘thief’ he’d picked up off the floor.

The eldest mischief maker reaches over a smile on her face as she plucks the wooden figure from his fingers. “Our lovely knight of course!”

“It’s a thief.” He corrects, still laying number tiles with Aryll’s assistance.

“Knight.” Linkle corrects, knowing she’s wrong and purposefully causing problems on purpose because that’s what she does. As kids, they never would have dreamed of challenging the ingo of the game, even if their terms hadn’t been quite what was in the rulebook. As adults though, Linkle delights in opposing everything he has to say, as if doing so makes this more fun. She’s not wrong either; the easy, mindless bickering is relaxing in its own way. It definitely distracts his attention from anything else at any rate.

With a roll of his eyes, Warriors puts away any extra pieces. He debates placing them neatly in the box, but then decides, screw it and drops them it to land how they will. He can worry about it later. Or not at all. Losers are the ones who clean up the game, after all, so it might not even be is problem. “Okay, so, play goes like this.” He grabs a tiny wooden house from one of Aryll’s piles; blue, because they don’t have purple. “Each player takes a turn laying a house on a corner where three of the land tiles intersect,” he sets his down between a forest tile, a brick quarry and a sheep pasture, “usually with the knowledge that when we play, whatever resource tile your piece is touch is the resource you’re going to be earning during the game.” He plucks a matching blue road from the pile Aryll has pushed in front of him, setting it down beside his house, facing in land and already starting a path towards where other desirable tiles are. “The way it works is that, when each player rolls the dice, if the number on the dice matches the number on one of your land tiles, you get a resource card for every house touching that tile.”

“So,” Linkle picks up, setting down a green house a fair distance away from his, on forest, field and pasture tiles, “because I placed my house near a ten a three and a four, if any of those numbers are rolled, I get the resource for the land tile.”

“So, four means a sheep?” The youngest holds up the deck of cards she’d sorted through, apparently while no one was watching, offering the mentioned resource to the older girl.

Her cousin nods. “Yep. And because Wars is touching a nine a six and a five, if any of those numbers are rolled, he gets what’s on those.”

“What’s the thief-knight for?” One sun-browned finger toggles said figure back and forth in the midst of his desert wasteland, big sea-green eyes staring at the older two.

Warriors chuckles. “Well, if you haven’t noticed, all the number tiles have numbers from two to twelve on them; all the numbers you can roll with two six-sided dice; but there’s one missing.”

Those green eyes fall to inspect the board, Aryll popping up to lean over the table, likewise searching until both blonde heads are popping up in time with each other. “The seven?”

“Yep,” he pops the ‘p’. “If you roll a seven, there’s no land tie for that, so you move the thief to someone else’s land tile and get to take one of their resource cards.”

“But whatever number you put the thief on, if someone rolls it after, no one gets whatever resource it is. The knight has that depot under siege, and nothing gets in or out!” Linkle adds, with enough drama that really, she could have been an actress. If she was better at following orders anyhow. Time wouldn’t, and can’t, tolerate her as is.

The younger of his two cousins nods, slowly. She’s still processing, but they’d really dumbed the game down a bit. Honestly speaking, he doesn’t remember most of the official rules, although in playing it with others, he’s since learned that there are many ways and some rules that are held as golden by some and disregarded by others. In the long run, he doesn’t suppose how they play matters much, as long as the core basics stick, and he’s not going to overwhelm the little guppy with finite details. As is, she’s grabbing for the red pieces and shuffling the pile of wood her way, prompting her brother to do the same with the orange ones.

Of course, Wind chooses orange. He should have seen that coming.

“So, I place my house, and then this….”

“Road,” he supplies. “It has to touch the house, but you can put it between any two of the pieces.” To illustrate, he motions to his own set up, tapping carefully the other two possible routes for the wooden highway to follow.

Aryll nods, setting down her house, between a field, a pasture and a mountain quarry, big blue eyes looking up at him expectantly.

He nods. “Perfect.”

“What are these though?” Trust Wind’s eyes to fall on the printed ships set around the board at the edges of the land tiles. You can take a child from the sea, but you can’t take the sea from a child it would seem. “Can you sail around in this game?”

“No,” and while Linkle turns a questioning look at him, he still shakes his head. “Not this version anyway, although I think someone told me once that there is a version for that. I could be wrong though. In this version though, those are what we in the game call ‘ports’.”

The deadpan stare is worth all the effort he’d put into keeping his face straight for that line.

Laughter overtakes him at his cousin’s obvious “no really!” and Warriors has to be terribly careful not to disturb the board in his mirth. “The sails on the ships will tell you what trading discounts you can get by putting your pieces there. See,” he leans over to read the one under Wind’s finger, “this one says that you can trade for any resource if you give up three sheep.”

“What if I don’t have sheep?”

“You suffer.”

Linkle snorts. “You have to make sure you get sheep somehow then.”

Wind nods slowly. “So, you can only trade if you have a house on the port?”

“No,” his sister shakes her head, braids flopping against her shoulders. “As a rule, you can trade any set of four like cards for one card of any other type, even if you’re land locked. The ports just mean you get discounts, but they come with a disadvantage too, because by having your house between two land tiles and the ocean, you get one less resource than if you were on only land.”

“Is it worth it?” Aryll pushes, chewing her lip. He should tell her not to do that.

Linkle shrugs. “Depends really. It can be a lifesaver, or it can ruin you. Depends on how you play your cards.”

“And speaking of playing cards!” He’ll let Aryll be tonight, she’s not hurting herself so it should be fine. “Here are your purchasing menus!” He hands out the reference tiles to the two younger, in their chosen colors. He doesn’t grab any for himself or Linkle though since they don’t really need them. “You can trade resource cards for more buildings and roads, or upgrade the buildings you already have into cities. These tell you what resources and how many of them you need to do that, and how many points you get for each one.” The rest is self-explanatory, and the kids nod, apparently already catching on.

His sister grins. “Now, Wind, place your house and road. Once we’ve all placed one, we get to set out a second one wherever we want.”

“What about the shield cards?” Their youngest holds up the deck of painted cards, backed with the image of a round shield. “How do we get those?”

“They’re called development cards,” he explains, taking them and setting them beside the board, carefully, so they don’t scatter. “You can get them by giving up a sheep card, wheat, and some ore. They allow special moves, extra points, or sometimes, if you get the monopoly card, you can steal all of a single type of resource card from everyone else.”

“Everyone?”

“Me, Linkle, and Wind, yes.”

“Sweet. I want that one!”

He chuckles, tugging at her ear as well, a little gentler than with her brother. “There’s only two of those ones, pumpkin, so chances are slim for most games, but I like your enthusiasm.”

She takes that news with a shrug, easy as can be but no doubt already looking forwards to the chaos she could cause by robbing the lot of them. It’s easy to miss with her sweet face and big blue eyes but the younger of his two charges is just as much a terror as her older brother, if not more so on some days.

Wind places his houses, and the rest place their second ones, and then with a quick review, and a reminding that “cities” double earnings- because he’d forgotten to mention it until Wind asked why they mattered at all- they start playing.

Taylor Family Rule’s state that youngest and ladies go first, but also that, when that becomes a source of contention (as the only brother among six sisters, he did kick up a fuss on occasion about being last every time) then all roll dice for the highest number, and the winner goes first. Maybe out of pity for him, Linkle elects to call for the second option, but it doesn’t matter, because Aryll rolls an eleven anyways. Luckily though, he’s second after her, something she’s quick to cheer about.

The kids catch on quick. And much like the cursed game that is Monopoly, it’s not long before the wheedling tones and puppy eyes start turning on him, although Linkle opts for the more direct option of threatening him, point blank. His sister knows, just as well as he does, that weakness such as one sees in those who crumble to cute faces, is a quick path to defeat. Aryll and Wind are cute, but they’re not cute enough to make him budge If anything, just to have him teasing them and reaching out to tickle their sides until they’re screeching at him to stop.

As is his habit with Catan, as something of the family champion, Warriors put’s every resource into expanding his territory, building out roads to block the others from building outwards at all, which, unfortunately for Wind, works all too well against the older of his cousins. Linkle, on the other hand, is too used to him, and is building out from two locations, meanwhile Aryll quietly builds circles around her favorite pieces, long winding roads that circle back on themselves, and while that means he’s cut off from her space, he’s not too worried about her out-building him either.

And then Wind manages to settle a house in a pasture, and sheep enter his fold and he starts trading for development cards.

Really, they should have expected the kid would take unlimited delight in controlling the knight-thief (they have compromised with that horrendous name). Actually, the fact that he keeps rolling sevens would imply that the thief, too, has an affinity for Wind, something that makes the rest of them all suffer exceedingly.

Another seven is rolled, and when Wind’s knight-thief lands on Linkle’s only source of brick (arguably the most in demand resource in this particular game) his twin sister starts glaring. “No.”

“Yes.” Wind replies, smugly reaching over.

A hand blocks his access to her cards, splayed over to try and protect them. “Wind.”

“Linkle.” A bright flashing grin that says he knows he’s won.

Warriors and Aryll share a look, and, while the two are fussing at each other, trade a few cards. He’s finally established the longest road, effectively blocking Aryll on one side of the board, opposite from her sibling, and surrounding the smaller of Linkle’s settlements so that she can’t build out and towards anything on that side of the wall. In a way, he and Aryll have established a truce as a result of his ‘protection’, but Linkle and Wind are beginning to go at each others’ throats.

He trades a sheep to his youngest cousin in return for more wheat. Might as well start converting settlements to cities, and looking at Aryll’s little pile of cards, he imagines Wind is soon to be challenged for his right to control the thief-knight.

“Child, I will end you.”

Wind smiles sweetly, fluttering his lashes a bit at the woman. It reminds him of how Legend reacts when he’s especially pissed. “Brick please!”

There is only one brick in Linkle’s deck of cards. A overwhelming amount of sheep and wheat fill her hand, but tragically, her forest tile has been blocked frequently, and no one is trading her ore.

That’s the downside, he muses as he slips Aryll another sheep, if you don’t build quickly, you lose fast, and really, Linkle ought to know that by now. He taps silently at one of the littlest’s ore this time, which she gives him readily.

Aryll, unlike him, had built around the tiles she’d chosen in the beginning, and built thickly. She may not have a twisting road like he does that blocks others one way or another, but she’s got ore and wheat coming out of her ears, and ran out of city pieces ages ago.

Technically, the game should have ended when one of them reached ten points, but Taylors never play that way. They play until overwhelming defeat is left to all but one. It’s more fun that way, he muses, sitting back, now out of his chair but resting his back against it all the same. Aryll, predictably, settles against him, squirrelling her way under his arm and propping herself against his shoulder. He doesn’t mind in the least, hand lifting to toy absently with her hair while their siblings bicker.

“Do you want me to fix your pigtails?” They’re coming loose.

She shakes her head, humming a bit. “No, Imma just pull ‘em out later anyways.”

Right, because it’s getting late. He glances down at his watch, it’s 8:38. It should be okay, the kids usually get their homework done before dinner, and they can stay up a bit later tonight, it being a Friday and all. If anything, they’ll be waking up just fine in the morning and it will be them hauling his ass out of bed in the morning!

Ignorant of their exchange, of cards or words, Linkle continues to try and convince Wind to take literally anything but her precious bricks. “You’re killing me here! I barely got any building done!”

“Well,” Wind returns, fingers inching forwards while royal blue eyes are fixed on his face, “you should have thought about that before you became a peasant!” The card is whipped away, and just as quickly, deposited in the bank as a new orange house finds its way onto the board.

Linkle groans, head sinking. “Why me?”

“I don’t know,” the voice of their youngest is muddled with a wide yawn. “Warriors warned you, but you didn’t listen. Looks to me like this is your fault.”

Aryll is officially his favorite.

“I give,” his twin sighs, looking at her desolate kingdom and meager profits before glancing up at them. “Another win for you, I guess, Link.”

“No,” Aryll’s smile is wide as she blinks innocently up at the older girl. “I win.”

Wait, what? Warriors glances over, counting. He has less cities, yes, but he has the longest road and more settlements and-

“I have the biggest army, and the most cities, and-” a development card is flashed, and then another, and three more! “Five bonus points.”

“So you do.” He finds himself saying, blinking dumbly down at her where she’s still nestled against him, smile innocent and devious. He’s not sure if he’s feeling more betrayed or proud of her right now.

Linkle is giggling like a mad woman. “Oh this is golden! Link lost Catan to the baby! On her first game!” You’d think she was the winner from the way she crows. “This is the best! Absolute best! Wind, you’re forgiven, now help me take a photo to memorialize this moment in family history!”

Despite anything he says (and really, they’re toke complaint’s anyways) they do take a photo of them, the board, and Linkle’s wild smile as Aryll flaunts and preens before the camera like any good Taylor would. They take a few more, funny ones of the boys cow-towing to the tiny champion as she drowns in Warriors’ recliner, and all sorts of the like. Honestly, silly photos are basically required in this household.

It’s only when Aryll can’t keep smiling past her yawns that he decides bed-time is in order. “Linkle, Wind, you’re on cleanup.”

“You lost too!”

“I did,” he stoops, scooping up their winner in his arms and smiling as she comes willingly, arms wrapping tight around his neck, “but it’s the winners bed-time, and as winner, she deserves to be tucked in nicely, not ignored. So have fun!” And without further ado, he heads down the hall, eating the losers in the dust. Or rather- leaving the losers amid the tiny wooden houses and cardboard tiles. Eh…it doesn’t have the same ring to it. He likes leaving them in the dust more.

#opera house au #asks and answers #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu warriors #lu wind #lu linkle #lu aryll #girl dad warriors #pry it from my cold dead hands #this man lives for his kids #cousins #same thing #lol

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