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skullrock · 3 years

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the first christmas

12 days of Christmas fics, day 7 - the first christmas

pairing: Joyce x Hopper

summary: It’s Eleven’s first Christmas, and Joyce and Hopper make it everything she ever wanted it to be, while kindling their own romance.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: none!

a/n: I think I am rly bad at writing jopper but I did my best <3 hope u enjoy!

“Do you know what Christmas is?”

El shakes her head timidly, and Hopper lets out a deep sigh. Of course they never let her celebrate Christmas.

“What… is… Christmas?”

Hopper doesn’t know what to say. He tries to think back to what he had told Sarah when she was growing up, but nothing really comes to mind. He’s pretty sure Sarah just understood it since she’d grown up with it. “Uh… it’s a celebration that we have every December to celebrate the birth….” Does El really need to know who Jesus Christ is? Does Hopper even know? “Of some guy that a lot of people… care about.”

“Like a birthday?”

“Yeah, except a lot of people celebrate.”

El nods. “What do we do?”

Hopper thinks the best way to show her is to have her watch some Christmas movies, hence why they were set up by the TV. “Here, you’ll get the hang of it.”

He almost showed her It’s a Wonderful Life, but Joyce vehemently protested, insisting on showing El Miracle on 34th Street first. Joyce said it was the best way to show El the meaning of Christmas, even if Hopper didn’t necessarily want El to believe in Santa. Hop trusted Joyce with his life, so he agreed, but he’s pretty sure it was the wrong call.

“Who is that?”

“That’s Santa.”

A long pause. “What does he do?”

Shit. “He’s the… person- he’s the image of Christmas. He brings gifts and makes sure everyone is being nice to each other.” He shakes his head at himself, but El seems to get it. She gets the present thing and the spirit of Christmas pretty well, but the legal proceedings weren’t helpful.

“Why don’t they think he’s real?” she asks quietly.

“Well, the guy is real, but people don’t think Santa is.”

“Is he?”

Jesus Christ. “Santa is a frame of mind. He might not be a real… person, but the message is there.”

El looks at him with furrowed brows, so he tries to elaborate.

“Santa… is Santa. He’s…. He brings people joy. So… if he’s not real, joy is still a thing.”

“Joyce?”

“No, not Joyce,” he laughs. “Joy. Happiness.”

“Oh.” She looks back to the TV. “Why isn’t it colored?”

“Old movies were in black and white.”

“Why?”

Sometimes Hopper hated being a dad, but only because he could not explain things very well. Not as well as Joyce could, anyway. He wishes she were here right now - not just to answer El’s questions, but because, quite frankly, he missed her. “They just were. I don’t know.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The movie finishes with El pretty much bouncing on the couch. She doesn’t verbally state her excitement, but it’s evident on her face.

“Fun, right? Makes you feel good?”

El nods. “Do we celebrate?”

“We will, if you want to.”

To be honest, Hop didn’t really know where he was going with this, hence why he didn’t think of a better explanation for Santa. He just remembers how much Sarah loved it, and he wants to make El that happy. He enlisted Joyce’s help with Christmas stuff, like finding presents and wrapping. Joyce loved El as much as Will and Jonathan, so she agreed easily.

El nods. “Yes.”

“Okay, well, get excited,” Hop says, pushing out of his chair. “It’s in twenty five days.”

El does the math in her head - 25 days was nothing after waiting forever for Mike. “Really?”

“Really,” Hop says. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

===

The Byers went all out for El’s first Christmas.

Joyce, Will, and Jonathan came to help set up the house on the fifth. Jonathan had made snowflake cutouts, which Will had covered, to hang around the house. Joyce brought Christmas books for El to read, peppermint cookies, and hot chocolate. They’d brought some ornaments that wouldn’t fit on their tree, as well as lights, for the tiny pine that Hop had cut down in the woods. El really liked the smell of pine, fresh and uplifting. Her smile didn’t falter for a second as everyone moved around the small cabin, hanging things and cleaning. Jonathan gave El an old Santa hat, but she put it on Hopper and pouted until he reluctantly wore it.

“Looks good on you,” Joyce said in passing, which made Hop stop trying to prop up the tree.

“You mean that?”

Joyce didn’t answer, but Hopper’s smile was as big as El’s.

Probably the first thing El picked up on when she moved in with Hopper was that he loved Joyce. She knew it way before him, and wanted them to be together more than he did. El liked Joyce and always felt close to her, but she wanted Hopper to be happy, too. Once she learned about mistletoe from a Christmas movie Hopper showed her, there was no stopping her. She was going to get them to kiss, just like the couples in the movies.

Will had found an old bundle up in their attic and brought it for El, confused with why she wanted it. He figured she just wanted to touch it, or wanted the whole experience, or something. El really just wanted to make it float above the two at the perfect time. Which was, admittedly, not tonight - but soon.

===

“Snow!”

Hopper nodded at the stove. “Yep, just in time for your first Christmas.”

El made Hopper blast Christmas records the entire morning of Christmas Eve, and she made him wear the Santa hat. Hopper would have been irritated if it was anyone else, but El’s goofy smile convinced him to keep the hat on. He made her Christmas themed Eggos, complete with crushed candy canes and white chocolate, for breakfast. As they sat to eat, Hopper noticed a mischievous smile on El’s face.

“What?” he asked, mouth full.

El looked up at him and smiled more, but didn’t say anything.

“Alright,” he said, staring at her carefully. “Better behave. Joyce and the boys are coming soon.”

El’s smile grew, and Hopper didn’t understand why. But he felt close to smiling, too.

===

“Jesus, Joyce,” Hopper groaned, helping her and the kids carry in presents. He didn’t even know where she got all of this, or how she could afford it, but every last parcel went under the tiny tree in the living room. El’s face hurt from smiling, but she tried not to be too excited.

“What?” Joyce asked, throwing her free arm out. Quietly, she adds, “I wanted her first Christmas to be memorable.”

“It will be,” he promises. “Thanks to you guys.”

Joyce places the present she was holding under the tree and hits Hopper’s chest lightly. “You did good, too, Hop.” She looks up at the Santa hat and smiles as she adjusts the brim. “It - It’s crooked.” Her tongue sticks slightly out of the side of her mouth as she stands on her tiptoes, and she lowers herself slowly, continuing to stare up at him. El watches closely, almost about to make the mistletoe hover above them, but Joyce finally breaks from her stare and brushes herself off. “Who wants to make cookies?”

The day went by quickly, spent baking and taking breaks to watch movies. Jonathan rolled his eyes nearly the entire time, but stayed patient for El - and for Will, too, who was enjoying it. Will explained things for El - like who the Grinch was, and how animated movies work. El would nod and listen, but her mind kept wandering to Hopper and Joyce, who were prepping things in the kitchen.

“You don’t have to bake a pie,” Joyce said, fiddling with the pie crust. “Just because you’re eating at our house doesn’t mean you owe us.”

“I owe you for more than that.” He leans against the counter and sips on his coffee. “You made her so happy.”

Joyce shrugs. “Every kid deserves a good Christmas. Especially her. And Will.”

Hopper nods and stops himself from thinking too hard about the last two years. The only good things about it was adopting El and reconnecting with Joyce.

“Remember that snowball fight in the schoolyard?”

Joyce smiles and nods. “The one you started?”

“It wasn’t me!” he promises, laughing. “It was another Jim.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Joyce beams. “The only person who would hit me in the head with a snowball is you.”

“That’s not true.”

Joyce scoffs and turns to him. “Do you think everyone should hit me in the head?”

“I’m not saying that,” he says slowly. “But you did get hit, like, ten times -”

Joyce reaches for some leftover cookie icing and swipes it onto Hopper’s nose. He’s taken aback, but Joyce smiles wide, wiping her hands on her pants.

“You did not just do that.”

Joyce feigns a frown. “Mmm. Looks like I did.”

Hopper reaches for the icing, but Joyce grabs his arm, laughing. “No, Hop - don’t -”

His finger swipes across her cheek and she gasps, not quite shocked but a little surprised, and grabs more for herself. “You ass -”

“Language,” he says, dodging her lunge. “Jeez, Joyce, you haven’t been this feisty since -”

“Since when?” she asks, lunging for him again, and Hop grabs her wrists to stop her. She takes a step towards him and their chests touch, both smiling. But Hopper’s smile falters, because Joyce is so beautiful, and this is the first time he’s seen her smile in a long, long time. He never wants the moment to end. Joyce suddenly bristles, and she gently slides out from his grip.

“Since high school,” Hop says smoothly, resting on the counter again.

“Yeah, well,” Joyce mumbles, once again playing with the pie crust. Her face falls, and then she looks over to him. “Do you even know how to make a pie?”

“You could teach me.”

She smiles again. “Well, I guess I have to.”

===

The kids managed to doze off, apparently too bored with the movies that were playing. Joyce and Hopper sat at the kitchen table, sharing cigarettes and a bottle of wine.

“What was the worst Christmas you’ve ever had?” Hopper asks, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray.

“Oh,” Joyce says, like she was waiting for the question. “First Christmas with Lonnie. He spent all of our money to get himself a - a - a gun. Didn’t even get me anything.”

Hopper swallows down his anger, never one to like Lonnie, especially after what he’d done to Joyce. “Damn.”

“Yeah.” She takes a drag. “Said his gift to me was to teach me how to use it.”

“Never took him up on it, huh?”

“No way,” she says, flicking her own ash. “What was yours?”

Hopper’s stomach drops and he diverts his eyes from hers, choosing to stare at the smoke rising from the glass tray. “First Christmas after Sarah.”

Joyce exhales slowly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have -”

“It’s okay,” he says. “I don’t think about it much anymore.”

Joyce frowns and reaches for his hand, resting hers on top of it. “You’re doing a really good job.”

Hopper chuckles. “Thanks.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

There’s a moment of silence before Joyce retracts her hand and asks, “What was your best Christmas?”

Hopper smiles gently, takes a drag, and flicks the ash. “This one.” His eyes wander over the El, curled up on his chair, the boys sleeping on the couch. “It’s nice… being around people again. I guess….” He looks at his hands. “I guess I missed it.”

Joyce bites her lip. “It’s my best Christmas, too.”

Hopper looks up, brows furrowed. “Really?”

“Really,” she whispers. “Because I have Will, and he’s safe. And Jonathan’s safe. And El is safe and happy.”

“Yeah.” Hopper takes a slow drag. “You know why else it’s my favorite Christmas?”

“Why?”

He pauses. “Because I could spend time with you.”

He thinks he’s imagining Joyce’s blush, but she moves a hand up to her face to hide it, confirming its existence. “It’s been a long time, huh?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It’s nice to….” He swallows. “To have you back.”

Joyce looks like she’s holding back, but she finally whispers, “It’s nice to have you back, too.”

And Hopper doesn’t know how, but there’s suddenly mistletoe hanging above them. He swears it wasn’t there before, that it just appeared in his line of vision. Joyce also seems shocked. “Wh - I don’t remember hanging that up.”

“Me neither.” Hopper puts his cigarette out and stands at the same time Joyce does to examine it.

“It looks like something from my house,” Joyce says, brows furrowed. “How - How’d it get - here?”

“What the hell is it hanging off of?” Hopper mutters, and then he realizes it’s floating - El.

His head snaps to the chair. El’s still curled up with her eyes closed, but she’s smiling slightly. Hopper smiles too, then looks back at Joyce, who’s still eyeing the mistletoe.

“How did it -?”

“Joyce.”

“Maybe one of the kids brought it -”

“Joyce.”

“What the heck is it hanging on?”

“Joyce!”

She finally looks at him. “What?”

Hopper was expecting her to get the hint. “Uh. Do you know what mistletoe is for?”

“Yeah?”

He chuckles timidly. “Eh - uh, Joyce.”

She shakes her head, lifts her eyebrows. “Yeah?”

He leans forward and kisses her, fast, so fast that she hardly even registers it. She looks shocked when he pulls back, and his cheeks flush. Joyce stares at him with wide eyes still, trying to process it.

“I’m so- shit, I’m sorry,” he says, but Joyce leans forward and kisses him, quick, before pulling back.

They both stare at each other, and then the mistletoe falls, shocking them both out of it. Will and Jonathan wake up at the sound, and El wipes her nose as she sits up and stretches. Hopper grabs the mistletoe and holds it while Joyce runs a hand through her hair, biting her lip to stop the smile. “Boys, we sh… we should probably go. It’s late.”

Hopper smiles as he watches them pack up, Joyce tripping over herself.

“Are you okay, mom?” Jonathan asks, holding onto her arm.

“Fine,” she says, waving him off, pointedly avoiding Hopper’s gaze. “Must - must’ve drank too much.”

“I’ll drive, don’t worry about it,” Jonathan says, helping her into her coat.

“You guys drive safe, okay?” Hopper says, an amused smile on his face, and Joyce’s cheeks flush.

“We will. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Everyone says their goodbyes - Joyce and Hop’s gaze lingering a little too long - and when the door shuts, Hopper turns on his heels, looking right at El. He smiles wide. “Didn’t know you were a little trickster.”

She beams and shrugs. “Merry Christmas.”

Hopper steps forward and hugs her, pulling her in close. “Merry Christmas, kid.”

===

tags: @pterawaters @mpmarypoppins @kurtsbuckethat

#jopper #joyce byers #jim hopper #jopper fic #stranger things fic #my fics

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willykappymarnsmatts · 4 years

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Wrong Direction: Chapter 2 (K. Kapanen)

@moriellymakesmesoft

“I just got off the phone with Max,” it's been two weeks since I've moved into Will’s place, my stuff still in boxes all over the apartment.

“Oh?’ William responds, tossing me a smoothie from the fridge as we get ready to go to practice. I still go to sleep in tears and wake up with puffy eyes, but Willy makes me feel like everythings going to be okay, if not today then someday soon. “How is he?”

“Good,” I tell him, scratching at the back of my neck, refusing to look up at him knowing what comes next. “He asked me to come stay with him. Well, he didn't ask. He's kinda forcing me.”

“Oh,” Will says. He turns around and faces me with a look on his face of a mix of betrayal and hurt, and it makes me want to burst into tears. “Um, well, are you gonna go?”

“I have to, babe. He's my brother, and he said that if I don't come by myself he'll pack my things for me the next time he comes to Toronto.” I feel bad, but I do miss Max.

Willy just frowns at me. “When are you leaving?”

“Uh, tomorrow. He said he'd buy me a plane ticket.”

“To Montreal?! I could drive you!”

“I know, its okay. He’s the one paying so I don't really care honestly. Don't we have to get going?’

“Yeah,” he giggles, glancing at the watch on his wrist.

On our way to the arena, I take deep breaths to try to calm my racing heart and shaking hands. Seeing Kasperi this often still hurts just as bad as seeing him in bed with that girl. But the whole situation has given me a lot of inspiration for a new song that i've been working on, bouncing ideas off of Will day and night.

He notices my agitation and reaches over to grab my hand. “After this, you won't ever have to see him or me ever again.”

“Hey, don't say that,” I pout. “I'll be back and i'll move back in with you, if you let me, in a couple months. I just need a break from Toronto. Everything I know is laced with memories of him. I can't even enjoy your games because he's there.”

Will nods without looking away from the road. “You're always welcome at my place. We’re all still really pissed at him, you know. Mitch hasn't spoken to him since that night, and you know how Mitch is. Auston doesn't even look at him, and Zach’s only talking to him because he feels bad that everyone is making every effort to ignore him but me. The whole fucking team loves you, Y/N. Oh, and Derms took a slapshot at his ankle the other night and he had to sit out for an entire period.”

My eyes are brimmed with tears and I have to look up at the ceiling of the car to keep them from spilling over. “Can you let the guys know i'm leaving? I'll obviously talk to them, but I don't want to be the one to break the news to them.”

Will nods. “Of course.” he smiles at me then and looks away from the road for a split second to wipe away a tear.

•••

I sit in the third row to watch the boys’ practice and try to continue writing, but the yelling and pucks hitting the boards constantly is distracting, so eventually I give up and watch them skate. During a water break, I catch myself watching Kasperi. All he does is take a few deep breaths, but watching him like this, as if nothing ever happened, makes my heart shatter. Before I can look away, he looks up at me and I watch his entire face fall. He stares at me and I stare back. He studies me, as if to memorize me. I can't look away, and he refuses to skate away. He continues forward, until he's at the boards and we’re a few feet away from each other. Neither of us can pretend we weren't looking at each other. He stops, and so does my heart. And we just watch each other. Just stare. My heart is breaking with every moment that passes, and my stomach hurts, because he was my everything.

A whistle blows. Kasperi whips his head around. The sounds of the rink come back into my ears, and we’re both taken out of the world where we were the only two people who existed. He skates away, glancing back at me once before never looking back at me again.

•••

“Y/N,” Willy says as soon as I answer his facetime call. I've been in Montreal with Max for about two months and I released my song about a week ago. Wills is driving back from practice, which is when he gives me a rundown on how “incredible” he was and how he's gonna kick ass at the next game. But today he looks anything but confident, his forehead a mass of worry lines and his mouth turned down into a frown.

“Y/N, your song is saved on my playlist, and I got the aux this morning. After practice, it came on. Most of us were singing, and I glanced at Kap, and he was just sitting there in his stall. He wasn't moving. Just staring straight ahead.”

I sit up. “Woah, slow down. I thought Kasperi and I were finished.” When I moved away, after the day at the rink, Will told me that Kasperi stopped seeming to care. He was out with a different girl every two days, bringing random girls home every day of the weekend. It still hurts, but it hurt more to realize that our entire relationship meant nothing to him. But if Will is telling the truth, which I don't doubt he is, it makes everything a whole lot more confusing.

“I thought so too, but listen. I think that it was your voice at first, Y/N. He hasn't heard your voice in months. And then he heard the rest of the song, he listened without moving, and as soon as it ended he got up, in just his slides and shorts, and fucking left the room.”

I'm silent, letting Will talk. “The rest of us didn't know what to do, so I tried to follow him. I found him in the weights room, and he was in tears.” Will flicks on the turn signal and turns onto his street, then glances at his phone to see if he should continue the story. I nod at him, holding my breath to keep from breaking down at the thought of Kasperi.

“I went to him and sat with him, and he just cried. I haven't seen him cry since he thought I was getting promoted to the bigs and he wasn't. But he was sobbing. So I sat with him, and eventually he calmed down enough to choke out that he misses you. He told me the girls were a front, and that he hasn't been able to sleep ever since that night. And, Y/N, I dont think he's lying. His eyes always have huge bags under them and he's so shaky. So I asked him why he did it, but he didn't have an answer. He said he missed you and he felt like you didn't love him anymore because you were always out doing stuff for your album, but I told him that was bullshit and he said he knew it. He told me he can't breathe without, and that he hates that he hurt you. So I told him to talk to you, and he said he'd try to text you later today.”

“Damn,” I respond, not sure how to feel. “I want to love him again, but I don't know if I can trust him.”

“You don't have to. He knows he hurt you, and that he has to work to get you back, but I am asking you to please just try to talk to him, because fuck, Y/N, if there’s a such thing as soulmates, it’s you guys. You're both in so much pain. Take your time, keep your walls up, but just talk to him.”

“Okay. Okay, fine.”

“Thank you, beautiful best friend. I'm home now, so I'll call you back in a couple hours?”

“Yeah, that’s cool. See ya.”

He ends the call and I'm left in silence. Then my phone dings with a text notification in my hand, and my heart picks up speed. I know exactly who it is, and I don't want to look at it, not right away, so I throw it across the couch with a pillow on top of it.

I put my head in my hands and try to slow my speeding heart by taking a few deep breaths. “Fuck!” I yell, then silently thank Max for going out a few hours ago. I wipe my face with my hands and sit straight up.

I stare at the pillow my phone is sitting under, knowing without ever checking that there is a text from Kasperi Kapanen waiting for me. My phone dings again and my heart jumps. I stand up and rip my phone from under the pillow.

‘wrong direction huh’

‘i miss u’

I cover my mouth with my hand and my eyes brim with tears. I sit back slowly onto the couch and read over the messages two, three, four more times before unlocking my phone and tapping on the text bar.

‘Dang, how'd u know it was abt u?’

I smile slightly as I type out the message and hold my breath when I hit send. I don't have to wait even a second before the three bubbles come up on the screen.

‘no idea’

‘ig im just tht good’

I laugh and type out another response.

‘Imyt. How r u?’

I bite my lip when the text bubbles come up, and a few seconds later his response comes.

‘could be better tbh. can’t sleep @ the apt nymore so i spend the nites b4 games @ 1 of the guys places’

My breath catches at the words. Then another message pops up.

‘im so sry 4 everything’

I bite my lip and close my eyes, taking a breath.

‘Thx. I havent stopped thinking abt u’

‘me neither’

I take another deep breath. Kasperi was my favourite person, my person, for so long. It's scary how easily we can fall back into simple, comfortable conversation, as if nothing ever happened. So I decide to be straight up and honest with him, and if he really does still care about me, he’ll understand.

‘U broke me, Kasperi. I never thought tht u would hurt me, and u literally broke me. I miss u more than nything and it hurts so bad to b without u, but seeing u in bed with another girl, tht broke me. It felt like our whole relationship was built on lies, and tht u never actually cared abt me. So yeah, i cant stop thinking abt u, and i want to b able to love you again, but u broke my trust and idk if ill ever trust u like i did before.’

I hit send and feel like I'm going to be sick. Everything I type I’ve told Will and all the other guys, but after the day I left the apartment, I never spoke to Kasperi about anything. The three bubbles come up on the screen and I hold my breath, then they disappear. They come up and disappear a couple more times, until a message finally pops up on the screen.

‘i wish i could take back everything i ever did 2 hurt u, but ik its not tht ez. i rly do want 2 fix this, tho. would u b down to ft l8r?’

I can't breathe, but I manage to type out a response without screaming.

‘Sure. Just text me when ur ready’

I take a deep breath and click my phone off. I'm about to get up when my phone dings again. I glance at the message and it makes my chest feel like it's going to explode.

‘ok i will <3’

I smile down at the screen and go to plug in my phone so it's charged when Kasperi wants to call. I really don't know if I'll ever be able to trust him again, but the least I can do is give him a chance to apologize. He's already broken me so badly, even if he lets me down again nothing will compare to the amount of hurt I’ve already felt.

#kasperi kapanen #kasperi kapanen fic #kasperi kapanen/reader #kasperi kapanen imagine #william nylander #hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #hockey fic #nhl #nhl hockey #nhl hockey fic #nhl hockey imagine #willykappymarnsmatts

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absolutiions · 4 years

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´ ･ . ✶ ⧼ madchen amick, non binary, she & they / fucked my way to the top by lana del rey + eyes the color crimson and hands stained in crimson, too. victim of the underworld, you are not. you came, not to sit silent at his side as dutiful wives do, but to whisper in his ear. pouted lips smeared ruby stoke the flames of his darkest impulses and his deepest desires. you are the conqueror. you are the queen. and may god have mercy upon anyone who underestimates this : because you will not. ⧽ ━━ don’t look now, but that’s ATHENODORA. the TWO THOUSAND, FIVE HUNDRED & TWENTY TWO ( varying physical ) year old GIFTED VAMPIRE has been here in seattle for three minutes, and is considered a member of the VOLTURI. they’ve always been MACHIAVELLIAN & INDOMITABLE, but i guess this town just brings out the worst in people ; apparently, they’ve been way more INSOUCIANT & SUPERCILIOUS than usual. it wouldn’t surprise me if they knew what was going on. click HERE to check out her stats.

they told you that you were a nobody, so you became the QUEEN. ( now everybody knows your name )

SECTION ONE OF THREE : background / human era. trigger warnings for talk of pregnancy, death, abuse

born circa 502 bc, in a little village that has no lasting name nor impact in ancient greece.

five of the children born to her parents survived to adulthood, and since she was the last one... it is almost like, her whole life, she has been suffering from younger child syndrome. who knew !

she very literally grew up in a diff time, so when i say she wasn’t rly close to any of her siblings, i don’t mean it in a like... horrible way. it’s not a reflection of character. they just didn’t have a tight sibling bond, though she loved them greatly.

same w her parents. they were unexceptional people who lived unexceptional lives, and though she was grateful for, u know... their creation of her - they were not close. they did not, in laymans terms, have the lorelai and rory gilmore dynamic.

her whole family were content to live their dismal lives, and... tho athenodora did not vibe, she, again - grew up in a diff time. of course she dreamt of more. of course she prayed to the gods for something better. but she was achingly aware of the fact that no such future would ever exist for her. such is life in 400 whatever bc, bumfuck, greece.

she was just barely eighteen when she was married to athanasios, to secure land, or smth, because those were the times. of course it was something like that.

he was... fine, at first. a little small minded ( that wasn’t the ONLY thing that was small, haha ). he, like everyone, was content to live the same old life, and athenodora just... wasn’t. she had been raised on stories of grandeur, and her parents had thought she would settle for the regular - it should not have been a surprise that she didn’t want to, but gods, did she try.

she never loved him, she can safely say ; but she wished that she did. for a long while, athenodora thought it would be easier, and thought that she could do a lot worse. unfortunately... she cld not.

their lives were meant to follow a certain pattern. they had gotten married, and now he would work all day, make them money, tend their land. she would stay home. cook. clean. raise the children that they were sure to have. athenodora was capable of almost everything expected of her, except for the most important part - she couldn’t seem to give him children. not strong sons. not beautiful daughters.

at first, he told her that it was fine.

after a year or so, he still told her that it was fine, but she could see in his eyes that it wasn’t.

two years after this, he called her the ancient greek version of defective for the very first time - and things only got worse from there.

he had always been a perfectly fine husband, until he was not, and athenodora had always wanted to love him, until she did not. she prayed to the gods every morning and night, to give her what her husband so desired. to give her that which would make her life better, even if she knew it would not heal the wounds already caused.

sometimes the gods r not dicks. a miracle! she becomes pregnant, aged twenty four ( i kno it sounded like she was a crone but again please remember the times ). she always thought it was just what was best n only athanasios would care, but , wow... suddenly. she cares. she has never felt this level of love with anything, until now.

but, tragedy :// straight white men ( idk, i just feel like her husband was the root of all evil ) are not so easily satisfied. who wld have guessed he wld continue to be an abusive asshole even after his wife succeeded in getting pregnant? i bet i shocked u all. who wld have guessed that a huge part of his problem wld end up being that suddenly, athenodora clearly cares abt something - and it isn’t him. again. got you all!

over the course of her pregnancy, he becomes, for the first time, a real threat to her - or maybe, athenodora simply never took him seriously until there is another person to think of. either way, she TRULY fears him and what he’s capable of by the time she gives birth, and after he makes some passing remark abt their baby, she yeets the FUCK out of there in the middle of the night, eirene ( baby ) only a handful of days old. she takes what she can carry and nothing more, and she... makes it pretty far, thanks to the kindness of strangers. you love to see it.

she settles somewhere ( she considers to be ) far away, and she makes up a good story : her husband died in a war ( there were probably a lot of time, i dont know ) and she was widowed, left to care for their young daughter alone. i know. its really original. they didnt have tv shows back then to rip stories from though.

stays in a hovel on the edge of their village. think the shittiest home you’ve ever seen and then make it shittier. there are rumors about her being a witch, and she kind of appreciates them, because it keeps kids out of her yard. and shock of all shock : in spite of being... u know. a woman. and not very skilled. she finds a very hot ticket job - working for the very wealthy volturi family who live on the other ( opposite ) outside of town, but like, in a considerably better home, obviously.

honestly, i don’t kno what the ancient greek equivalent of that secretary in new moon is, but that’s the vibe we’re going for, here. she’s like, a chambermaid or smth. and she makes a tidy little sum. doesn’t question her weirdo bosses that much. doesn’t know what anemia is because im p sure it wasnt discovered by then, but presumes they have it.

and maybe, just maybe, it’s the finesse of the century : or maybe, just maybe, it is destiny. in no time at all, she has caught the eye of the volturi’s most eligible bachelor(tm) : caius volturi. many another worker is made upset by this fact, as athenodora is very quickly alotted VERY special treatment as the apple of his eye, which includes, i don’t know... hand delivered baskets of pomegranates, a nicer home and in due time, the simple pleasures of the flesh.

so that’s pretty neat. and life’s pretty fine. she feels like an ancient greek sugar baby, and honestly, isn’t that all she’s ever deserved? she’s got some nice digs ( i don’t think she’d have called them that ) and a man who worships the ground she walks on and who spoils her with pretty things, and most importantly : she is taking care of her daughter, who i absolutely didn’t forget about. eirene is the literal light of athenodora’s life, and everybody knows it. if i say jean valjean and cosette vibes, can we all pretend we get it?

and then it goes to shit. as things do.

her daughter is fourteen years old, when her father finds them ; and she doesn’t know, she never knows, if he was seeking them out or whether it was all DUMB luck. regardless of it all, he is stood inside her home, his breath coming in angry half pants, and athenodora is convinced that this is it. that her end has come. that her freedom is over. she dies, she thinks, or she returns back to the house that was not her home with him. these are her options.

she tells her daughter to leave. she stops him from following. when she is shoved and her head hits the table, she is aware of the option he has chosen for them more than all else - but the gods, or perhaps, just one - intervenes.

until this night, athenodora had never known the truth of the volturi. but when her beloved saves her from athanasios, she sees him for what he is. she UNDERSTANDS. and she isn’t frightened. she should be, for sure, she should be running as fast as she can - but all she can think in that moment is that she is free now in all the ways she has never been... and caius, her love, is something so much larger than this life.

for the first time, the godhood that athenodora has always dreamt of is within her grasp. she makes him promise that once eirene comes of age, he will make her into the same creature that he IS. she makes him swear a solemn oath, and he who has been so infatuated by her for so long cannot argue.

four years. this is all it takes, and then eirene is eighteen - capable of standing upon her own two feet. athenodora leaves her everything - all the gifts she has ever been given, all the wealth accumulated, the home. everything she will not need, once she is gone. and she says a final goodbye.

caius turns her himself. the greatest gift he could ever give her.

and reborn, athenodora is MORE than everyone in her life could ever dream of being. she is the queen of the underworld, the goddess of death. she is all of this, and more. at his side, she finds GREATNESS. and once she had it, athenodora decided she would never again be without.

SECTION TWO OF THREE : volturi era.

became cool. became powerful. very emma frost of her, rly

didnt rly care for the rest of the coven outside of caius but sometimes u gotta hang w scrubs

didyme dies sometime after her turning, and that kind of fucks everybody up

not so much her bc like i said she didnt rly care but... caius b frightened of losing her, i guess

kind of throws a spanner in the works

she spends a lot of time ‘locked away’. not , like, literally ( bc that’s gross! ) but... caius takes over protective to the extreme

uses this time to harness her power and fuck

not always in that order

also spends a lot of time telling him he deserves to b leader

deserves to b the new aro

who needs powers?

not u, caius

go kick their ass baby i got ur flower-

( he doesn’t go kick their ass but man she wishes he wld )

she’s genuinely devoted to him, however, as much as it sometimes seems as if she’s using him as a means to an end

she DOES do that with a LOT of people, but caius... that’s her baby! her darling! her sweetie pie! fuck everybody else in this house caius, she respects YOU !

she jus wants to see him be the best there ever was, and he’s.... p... happy to giv her everything she wants, so their dynamic is actually p equal

we love to see it

anyway lots of years happened and now she’s here

seattle sucks -athenodora’s official review

but she’s fucking SICK of aro’s shit and thinks her 2020 birthday wld be the best time for an official change of pace

obviously aro can read minds so he knows athenodora has high aspirations but he has learned his fucking lesson w killing ppls mates, i guess

lucky for her!

that’s all i got

hehe

SECTION THREE OF THREE : power.

athenodora is an ungifted vampire in twilight canon, but to that i say : fuck ya chicken strips. in equinox, she be special. her power is life force manipulation, in a pretty unique ( and dare i say ) way.

she was a forty two year old woman, when she was turned. she had lived a life, and she had the MARKS to show for it. but the very first time that she drank human blood from the vein, athenodora realized that she was not as unexceptional as she had always been lead to believe she was. vampires do not change. they’re frozen in time, like statues, portraits, photographs... and yet, before caius’ very eyes - athenodora did what no other vampire could. mere seconds passed, and suddenly ; she was stood before her beloved, decades younger. it lasted as long as her thirst was sated, with her age returning to her as her eyes darkened once more. and it happened all over again, when next she fed.

over time, she’s come to understand it well enough. she has a particular love of younger humans ; those in their twenties, and thus, physical primes. she thinks that is, in part, down to her gift ; she seeks these out to drink from because when she feeds, she’s not simply drinking their blood, but also, their life force. she’s taking theirs to add to her own.

like many gifted vampires, she has spent time learning what she can of her gift, and learning whether there is some other way to apply it. it took almost two thousand years, but eventually - athenodora discovered that with a touch, her fingertips to their skin ( and a great deal of focus ), she could render another changed, also. it lasts for only a short amount of time - an hour, maybe a little longer, depending on how strong she is. but it works. and it makes her think that, in all her unlimited time : she might just be able to do even more. be a danger. manipulate life force in a way that can DESTROY. she’ll keep on working on that for as long as she lives.

#equinox.intro #ath #( 𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐀 ) ━━━ * biography !

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my-anonymous5444-blog · 5 years

Text

My Story

---Hey guys sorry about being a downer i’ve just been wanting to share this for a long time

2017

Hello im 13 years old. i wish i was dead. If wasn’t for my family i would be dead right now. When you commit suicide you just pass on the pain to someone else so i refuse to kill myself because I love my family too much. I don’t have any true friends and i hide my true self behind multiple masks and i think the farthest anyone outside my family has ever gotten is 2 masks down. I believe i have at least 4 that i hide behind that’s why i don’t have any true friends. The only ones i do have are always putting me down or are just pretending to be my friend. I’m all alone. My sister knows me the best. But even when i’m with her i wear a mask. I feel so alone. Sometimes i wish that i didn’t have a family or anyone i cared about so i could just die and get it over with. I don’t tell anyone i want to die because i don’t want to be a burden, so i just bury the dark thoughts in the deepest darkest part of my mind to the place when i don’t even go. I hate my life. I’m so done with all the shit i have to deal with, at this point i wish i was dead. I’ve cut my legs and arms before but my knife was not very sharp so it dulled quickly and now it won’t cut skin so can’t do that anymore. I wish i was someone else. I think i’m not interesting and i hate myself. Everytime i take pills i think of overdosing, when i visit tall buildings i want to jump, when i cross the street i think about jumping in front of a car, when i shave i think of cutting my wrists. I’m in pain and i can’t stop it. I don’t want to tell my friends because they will want to make me stop doing things i’m doing, like making myself throw up or cutting, but i won’t stop and it will be an endless cycle of me doing things and them telling me to stop. They’ll eventually get bored of it but they can’t stop telling me to get better because it will hurt their consciousness. I want to tell someone but i don’t know how. I don’t think i’m capable of feeling anymore. The only things i feel are sadness and depression and shame. I don’t feel happy or proud or anything else. The only glimmer of happiness i get is when i get other people to laugh. That's it. I eat away the pain but i hate myself so i throw up and cut and then eat more. There are so many things i can’t help that make me more depressed.

2018

Everyone says i'm smart and funny and worthwhile but i feel useless and stupid and irrelevant. I always wear a mask of strength and i say i never cry but i cry a lot and think way too much about what people say. I don’t know why but other people’s opinions mean a lot to me. Even the people i hate have opinions that i take to heart. i m always saying that i don’t want to get married or have kids. I say i don’t want to get married because i think marriage is a chain but actually i just don’t think i’m worthy for someone to love and i say i dont’ want kids because they are annoying but i don’t want kids because i can’t imagine bringing something i love into the stupid fucking world we have. The world sucks and i don’t want any kid growing up in it. I think i’m ugly and i hate my body. I’m constantly trying to numb the pain, sometime with movies or work. I wish i didn’t have to be born. I wish my parents had just had one daughter. I don’t want to die through suicide but i want to die. I find myself constantly wishing i would get shot or get run over or i would choke. I hate being alive.

Its 8th grade and i’m in costa rica. I tried to kill myself twice so far this year. i feel so damn alone and i dont think i can deal with it anymore. Im not with my family or my friends and im not sure how much longer i can hold on. I tried to slit my wrists with my razor but i dont think i cut my wrists in the right place because i didnt bleed that much. That was a week ago. Last night i was listening to rly sad music and id made me feel shitty. I tried to cut my wrists again and i did it right this time. I just kept cutting until i started bleeding a lot. I bled out in the sink . i had a panic attack and started hysterically crying. I had to be quiet so i was just sitting in the dark in the bathroom bleeding out with my hand over my mouth tears running down my face. I dont get it. I want to die but for some reason i cant kill myself. My life doesnt have any meaning. Im ugly and stupid and completely worthless. Everyone tells me i have to learn to love myself but i can’t i wish i was worth while, i wish i was someone else. This one girl keeps joking about suicide and depression and it makes me mad but im to fucking ashamed and scared so i just sit there and i dont say anything. Why do i never say anything. Why can’t i have some actual opinions and not just agree because im scared of rejection. I would be better off dead.

I finally told my family. I’m on medication and it seems to be working but not very much. They all say it will get better with time but i don’t want to live anymore i’m tired of it and im not even to the hard part yet. When i have access to alcohol and drugs i’ll probably become an addict because i’m scrabbling for a way to take away the pain. I can’t tell my friends because they wouldn’t understand. I feel alone all the time and i wish i wasn’t born. There are about 3 people besides those in my family that make me wanna live. Sophie, Celeste, and Audrey. That’s it. Sometimes i realize how dark my mind gets, like today there was a lockdown at school because someone thought that they had seen a man with a gun but it was a false alarm. While sitting against the closet i found myself wishing someone would shoot up my school so i could die and my family would eventually get over it. Then i realized what i had just thought and immediately was like stop it. I have so much stress and i’m not even in high school yet. I want to die. Even when i think about the future i get stressed out and sometimes have a mental breakdown. Someone please kill me. I was crying in the bathroom yesterday and some 6th grader heard me and asked if i was ok, i wiped my tears away and walked out like nothing had happened. Why can’t i show emotion to other people what am i so afraid of. Why cant i just be normal and express myself naturally?

2019 Im now a freshman in high school. I’ve been getting better and the medication has been helping. Sometimes i still think about wanting to die but i’m a lot happier. I have a group of amazing friends and i can be myself around them. They love me and i love them. I also just fell in love with a boy for the first time and its a nice change from before. I know people lose hope and give up. trust me, i’ve been through that and it sucks, but you keep going forward and things get better. I actually am enjoying life recently and i think it has to do a lot with going to therapy and trying to make more in depth connections with my friends and family. I still get pressured by my parents about grades and i can’t tell them a lot about thats going on. I’m addicted to nicotine and i think i may be getting addicted to alcohol too. It feels so good when your high or drunk. Im trying to make better decisions but its fucking hard. And old habits die hard. My mom called me worthless the other day. She said that if i didnt work hard i wasn’t going to go anywhere in life, which is accurate but it was like she was accusing me of not trying when im trying my hardest and im stretched so thin. I love my boyfriend. he makes me so damn happy and we have such a strong connection. I want to be with him forever and i want him in my life forever but i know he’ll find someone better and i can’t help but wonder how he’ll break my heart.

- I know its weird to share this online but i just want people that are going thr the same thing or have gone thr something like this that they aren’t alone

#mylife

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cheshiresense · 6 years

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for your SP au if u have time, how about a scene with injured/close to death!ichigo and kisuke losing it big time? idk i just feel like in this universe where even tho they're surrounded by people they know, theres also a sense of them only having each other, and after everything theyve been thru, one of them facing the possibility of losing the other could be rly trauamtizing.

Uhhhh… okay. Wow, alright, let’s see…

This takes place sometime far into the future. Well, not that far but like at least a couple years after the convo with Kaien and Shinji I guess?

Pinglist: @yoshifics @bewarethemandragora @runeofluna @selenedreamwalker@hypnos28 @verticallychallengedintrovert @fandommaniac2401 @lovingempress @cynthia-of-the-wallflowers@pairp @warriorofbooks @charlottedabookworm @lyra689 @sheyrenawyrsabane @sora-the-empress@xadriannax @yumeniai @oceanshimmerspirit-blog @stereden @lirial89 @midnight44442@srs2160 @running1way @midnightkaito

Later, Kisuke would be able to tell you exactly what happened. His mind automatically breaks down an attack blow by blow, every strength and weakness catalogued just in case he would need to counter it in another fight, because that’s just how his brain works, and for once he wishes it wasn’t.

He’ll have nightmares about it for years to come.

One moment, they’re scattered across the skies of Soul Society, either fending off the hoards of Hollows Aizen has released into the heart of Seireitei or confronting Aizen himself, and the next, Kisuke loses track of the traitor for a split second, too many illusions overlapping each other and too many useless bodies in the air who haven’t the first idea how to shake off Aizen’s Shikai but insisted on fighting anyway because Yamamoto ordered all Shinigami Ninth Seat and up into battle.

He feels more than sees what happens next, at the very edge of his peripheral vision. He and Ichigo have split up, both of them still in the same piece of battlefield but no longer covering each other’s backs because they’re too busy trying to simultaneously make sure Aizen doesn’t gut one of their colleagues or friends and launch an attack that’ll actually stick at Aizen himself at the same time. Of everyone here, Ichigo and Kisuke are the only ones who’ve gone toe to toe with Aizen, which was a difficult enough task without throwing in the dozen or so handicaps around them.

One moment, Aizen is smirking, monologuing, boasting about everything Kisuke’s long since learned to tune out. The next, the Fifth Seat from the Ninth Division rushes him like an idiot, and as if on cue, half the other Shinigami also surge forward as if they think Aizen has left any openings for them to get a hit in. It distracts everyone there, and Kisuke mentally curses when more than one person obscures his line of sight. He shifts, steps to the side, trying to keep all his senses honed on Aizen, but a breath and a blink later, the man has disappeared, and Kisuke is turning before he’s even consciously aware of doing it, his gaze cutting through the throng of Shinigami around him, searching frantically for-

Aizen doesn’t attack Ichigo. Of course he doesn’t. But Fujiwara Asuka is there, and to her credit, whatever illusion Aizen weaves around her doesn’t make her hesitate from bringing her Zanpakutou up to block a strike Kisuke can’t see, nor does it stop her from following through, just as Ichigo taught her. She remains on the defensive, wary of attacking and hurting a comrade, but she doesn’t stay in one place, deflecting whatever sword she sees and then throwing herself to one side, obviously trying to get clear.

It’s just not enough, because she throws herself to the left, and Aizen materializes there to meet her, Kyoka Suigetsu thrusting forward and-

Kisuke knows what will happen before it even happens. Somehow, the sound of a Kidou spell eating through flesh echoes loudly even with people shouting all around him and the shrieks of Hollows in the distance.

These are the things Kisuke notices in a single snapshot of time: Fujiwara’s wide, distraught eyes; the smug, satisfied smile on Aizen’s face like he expected nothing less; and the shock-tinted pain splashed across Ichigo’s features as he shoves Fujiwara to the side with one hand and deflects Kyouka Suigetsu with Zangetsu, only for Aizen to bring his other hand around, the light of a Raikouhou already glowing in his palm before he releases it straight into Ichigo’s abdomen, a sizzling ball of yellow lightning that slams through one side and out the other and leaves the stink of burning flesh behind.

Ichigo staggers, chokes, wobbles in the air like someone’s cute first attempt at Shunpo, and for a long frozen second, Kisuke tries to draw breath and can’t seem to find the lungs for it.

Then Fujiwara screams Ichigo’s name, and it’s as if everything fast-forwards again, flooding the area with noise and colour all at once.

Kisuke covers the distance between them in one desperate flash-step. The incomplete Espada that gets in his way is bisected right through the middle, Benihime singing through the air like a cacophony of screaming symbols, and the nameless Arrancar doesn’t even slow Kisuke down. He barrels into Ichigo, catching his lover just as he begins to fall. He barely notices Kyouraku covering his retreat, appearing a half-beat behind him, dual swords swinging at Aizen to force him back, his eyes a hard slate grey as he stares down the traitorous would-be overlord.

Instead, Kisuke’s already trying to calculate the damage before they’ve even reached the ground - front torn open, shattered ribs, not as much blood as there is charred flesh, but Kisuke can see his insides anyway and it’s a mess of hemmorhaging viscera.

He lands on a rooftop, out of the way of any immediate enemy fire, and sets Ichigo down as gently as he can. Even then, Ichigo convulses and then coughs, spilling slick crimson over his bottom lip, and the spasms that wrack him shifts his broken ribs in ways that can’t be good for his continued survival.

“Ichigo, it’s going to be alright, just try to hold still-”

Ichigo makes a rough sound that’s half-laugh, half-splutter of pain, and then he coughs again, unending and terrible, and Kisuke can see the way blood is bubbling up and around the hand Ichigo’s instinctively braced against his front.

Fuck. Fuck.

Kisuke is usually calmer than this. He prides himself on remaining calm at all times, no matter how dire the situation. But right now, as he pins Ichigo down with one hand to Ichigo’s shoulder to prevent him from doing more harm to himself while his other flickers green in an attempt to start healing the worst of the damage, he can’t seem to stop the way either of them are shaking. There’s a funny roaring noise in his ears, and every time he blinks, all he can see is Ichigo lying too still, Ichigo’s face twisted up in agony, Ichigo dead and gone and leaving him behind, and he can’t-

A hand appears in his line of sight, and he’s not even holding his Zanpakutou anymore, having dropped it beside him the moment he landed, but Benihime’s still unsealed, and her signature reiatsu snaps out like the fangs of a beast and nearly takes the limb off, hand and arm and all. Whoever it belongs to swears and snatches it back just in the nick of time. Kisuke doesn’t even look up, too busy staunching blood flow and holding the ribcage together and making sure nothing slices into a lung and-

Fuck. Fuck. There’s just so much damage, and at the end of the day, Kisuke’s no master healer-

“Urahara-taichou, you will get a hold of yourself.” A female voice calls, not quite raised but sharp enough to cut through the haze of terror clouding his mind. Coupled with the hand that suddenly finds his, slippery with more blood but with enough coordination to squeeze down hard and anchor him back to the present, Kisuke suck in a breath, then another, then another, until he’s almost dizzy with it.

He looks at Ichigo first, and while his face is white and creased with pain, he meets Kisuke’s gaze steadily enough, and it’s enough for Kisuke to at least shove aside the panic and think.

He looks up next, right into the looming figure of Unohana, waiting for him to shuffle aside so she can tend to Ichigo. She’s already casting a critical eye over Ichigo’s injuries, and Kisuke should, he should move over right now because on a regular day, if Kisuke could have his pick of healers, Unohana would be at the top of the list. There is literally no one better for the job, and he should be thanking the Soul King that she was even nearby enough for someone to fetch her here so quickly.

But even just the thought of passing Ichigo’s wellbeing to anyone makes him want to lash out.

Benihime, Kisuke thinks for one wild moment. Benihime could probably fix him. Even if it means a patchwork of scars inside and out by the end-

She’s never had to restructure so many broken pieces of bone before though, never had to work with half the internal organs fried and nerve endings destroyed by such a close-range, point-blank electric explosion. What if she can’t-

Benihime stirs at the back of his mind, all affronted pride and snarling wrath with a seething sort of fear underneath. And yet-

He looks at Ichigo. Ichigo, eyes at half-mast and dazed now, Ichigo who is depending on him to make the best choice for him. And-

And that’s enough. Barely, but enough.

He rounds on Unohana again, and if he looks a little manic and more than a little mad, no one calls him out on it.

“If he dies under your care,” He bites out in a voice even he almost doesn’t recognize, soft and flat and no less vicious for either. “The Fourth Division will require a new captain by the end of the day.”

There are scandalized gasps from more than one person, and Yoruichi hisses a warning, “Kisuke!”

Only Unohana remains entirely unperturbed, looking back calmly even as she inclines her head in a nod. “I understand.”

Kisuke watches her for a moment longer, weighing her answer, then he turns back to Ichigo. The stasis spell he resorted to earlier begins fading as he lets it go, and he takes those few precious seconds to reach up to cup Ichigo’s face in his hands instead, bending low until the brim of his hat brushes Ichigo’s forehead. “Ichigo, you listen to me.”

Eyelashes flutter like it’s a struggle for Ichigo to keep them open, but he opens them anyway, and even though it takes a few blinks, his eyes are clear and focused when they look at Kisuke, and Kisuke holds that gaze.

“You will live. Do you know why?” His fingers curl into Ichigo’s hair, probably gripping harder than he should, digging bruises Ichigo can’t afford into his skin, but he needs this, needs his promise, needs his word. “Because if you die, you know perfectly well I will follow you and I will find you, no matter how many reincarnation cycles I’ll have to tear apart, even if that means razing the Soul King and his whole palace to the ground. So you will live because I will set the universe on fire if I lose you, and you have too much of a saviour complex to let that happen.”

There’s a hush all around him, the kind that comes from a stunned, maybe even appalled, sort of disbelief.

Kisuke ignores them. None of them matter right now.

(And if they don’t believe him, don’t believe he’s capable of it or don’t believe he really would do it, then the joke’s on them.)

All his attention remains on Ichigo, who blinks at him once, twice, and then even manages a hoarse chuckle as a bloodstained hand comes up to tangle in Kisuke’s own hair, as possessive as Kisuke at his worst and not at all ashamed to show it.

(Yoruichi knows what people say about Kisuke, both within and outside of the Onmitsukidou, with admiration or with contempt. But Kisuke’s problem has never been an inability to love. His problem has always been that he loves very, very few, and of those he does love, he loves with a world-burning passion that halts for no one and nothing and consumes everything in its path if allowed to run its course.

It makes her wonder, sometimes, whether Shiba Ichigo is very brave or just very oblivious.

Or maybe he’s like Kisuke, loving with a ferocity that’s equally devastating and unstoppable, and isn’t that a terrifying thought?)

Ichigo swallows, and his reiatsu surges with the solid resolve shining in his eyes, not even slightly dimmed, even now. Or perhaps especially now.

“You’re such a drama queen, Kisuke,” Ichigo rasps out, but his grin is all teeth, stained with blood but bold and bright and brilliant. “Go kick his ass. I’ll be right behind you.”

Kisuke gives himself another second, curled over Ichigo like he could protect him this way, clutching at him like he’s Kisuke’s last lifeline.

(He is. He has been for so long now.)

Then he exhales and lets go. He presses a kiss to Ichigo’s temple and then eases back and clambers to his feet, retrieving Benihime on his way up. “I’ll buy you time. Catch up when you can.”

Ichigo nods, and Kisuke steps away, finally letting Unohana take his place. He starts walking, and the Shinigami in his way automatically part for him. There’s Kaien, whom Kisuke vaguely recalls as the one who tried to get his attention and almost paid for it with his hand.

Kisuke might apologize later.

Then there’s Yoruichi with Suì-Fēng at her side, Rose and Love look like they’ve just arrived, and Matsumoto stands a few feet away, her arm around Fujiwara’s shoulders. Hachigen is farthest away, hands pressed together and a yellow barrier erected around them. A handful of battered-looking seated officers Kisuke never bothered remembering the names of complete the ensemble, and up above, Kyouraku and Lisa are keeping Aizen at sword-point.

Or at least Aizen is allowing them to keep him at sword-point. It’s about time Kisuke changes that.

He strides forward. Three feet and he’s shrugged out of his captain’s haori. Five feet and he’s dropped it behind him. Seven feet and his hat follows. He’s in full Shinigami garb today, all black uniform and flat sandals meant for fast and easy movement.

“Open it,” He orders in placid tones as he approaches the barrier, and Hachigen wastes no time releasing one wall of the barrier.

The moment Kisuke steps out and looks up, Aizen glances down and smiles like he’s been waiting for this.

“Urahara Kisuke,” He calls out with his trademark mockery lilting each syllable. “You should keep a closer eye on your-”

Kisuke disappears from the ground and reappears behind Aizen, Benihime angled for the man’s heart. Aizen dodges, but he also has to stop talking, and he doesn’t see the glint of silver in Kisuke’s other hand before the dagger sinks to the hilt in the soft flesh just above Aizen’s hip.

“Hadou #11,” Kisuke intones as Aizen’s smile thins. “Tsuzuri Raiden.”

An electric current sparks and crackles down the hilt just as Aizen wrenches himself off the blade and Shunpos away to safety.

He’s still smiling when Kisuke looks over. The injury is already healing with the power of the Hogyoku even as blood drips from the dagger in Kisuke’s hand, and yet something uneasy lurks in the tightness around his eyes, like he wasn’t expecting Kisuke to attack him so ruthlessly.

Kisuke hasn’t the faintest idea why. Everybody knows which military organization groomed him after all.

Ah well. He’ll learn.

Kisuke tosses the blade aside, then twists his fingers together, activating the seal he planted underneath the Tsuzuri Raiden just as he recites, “Bakudou #61, Rikujoukourou,” and six beams of light bursts from the newly healed wound in Aizen’s side, enveloping him in a brief burst of yellow before settling evenly around his midsection and paralyzing him to the spot.

Aizen looks momentarily surprised before his usual confidence slides back into place. “Do you think such a simple Bakudou can capture me?”

Kisuke huffs out a breath that’s barely a shadow of his usual laugh. “Capture you? I don’t want to capture you, Aizen-san.”

He brings Benihime up with a deliberate sort of careless grace, and this time, for the first time in this time, when he looks at Aizen Sousuke, the Shinigami is no longer smiling. Maybe he finally sees the rage in Kisuke’s eyes, pulsing with every breath he takes and every beat of his heart.

“I just need you to stay still for a bit,” Kisuke explains lightly, and behind him, her reiatsu jolting with an abrupt sort of urgency, he can hear Yoruichi yell for Kyouraku and Lisa to get back, right now.

“Bankai,” Kisuke commands, and distantly he hears the triumphant laughter of his Benihime’s bloodlust. She laughs, and he smiles. “Kannonbiraki Benihime Aratame.”

#bleach #uraichi #urahara kisuke #kurosaki ichigo #myscrap #uraichi in sp verse #msg #anonymous

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fartandsoul · 6 years

Note

this would b rly cute w sonyamary: "I almost asked you to the Winter Ball in high school fifteen years ago, but chickened out, but now we’re both home for Christmas and single and maybe we’ve got a second chance?"

is kj.....answering asks again......(the answer is kind of)

“sofia? sofia rostova?”

the voice sounds familiar, but in the midst of the coffee shop chatter, sonya can’t quite place it. she looks up from her coffee and tries to keep her mouth from falling open in surprise. is that...?

“hi, i don’t know if you remember me...mary bolkonskya? we went to high school together.”

shaking her surprise away, sonya gets to her feet and hugs mary. “yeah, hi! i didn’t expect to see you here--how are you? how’s andrei?”

“he’s fine! actually, i’m here getting coffee for him before i pick him up at the airport.” mary checks her watch. “he’s home for christmas, like me. how are you?”

“i’m good, but don’t let me keep you if you have to get going,” sonya says.

“no, no, i have time. i wouldn’t have stopped otherwise.”

the silence lasts half a beat too long this time, and they both begin to speak at once.

“it’s-”

“well-”

“sorry, go ahead.”

“i was going to say it’s great to see you again,” sonya says. “and here of all places.”

“what do you mean?” mary frowns, looking confused.

sonya realizes a second too late that there’s no good way to say i used to come here every day to study just because you used to stop in for tea sometimes and i still remember your order (medium lavender green tea, extra hot) fifteen years later.

she adjusts her scarf while her mind flails for something to say instead. “oh, i thought you used to work here...maybe i’m remembering someone else. it’s been a while.”

mary laughs. “that’s okay.” a shout from the barista calls her attention away. “oh, that’s andrei’s drink -- i have to go, but i hope you have a great holiday.”

“thanks,” sonya says, wishing she could disappear. “you too!”

mary leaves with a wave, and sonya sits to nurse her now-cold coffee.

god. she’s still so pretty. she sighs, trying to go back to the article she was reading before mary showed up to derail her thoughts. but her mind won’t stop whirring, bringing up memory after memory that she hasn’t recalled in years but which now resurface easily.

***

winter ball posters blanketed the halls in blue and white. sonya tried to ignore them as she pushed through the crowds of students with her head down, but it was impossible not to think about it when a new Big Ask happened every five minutes. cheers at the end of the hall told her that another one had just said yes.

sonya sighed. she would have just gone with nikolai as friends, but he was already going with vaska, and natasha was going with pierre, so she couldn’t tag along with them either. it was just her. no date. and no dress.

natasha had gone dress shopping a week ago and found something beautiful in minutes, of course, but sonya hadn’t tried anything on, no matter how many dresses natasha held up in front of her with a squeal of, “oh, you would look so pretty in this!”

she deposited books into her locker with a thud, but the sound of the next door locker opening sent a bolt of anxiety through her. shit.

“hi, sonya!” it was mary. tall, willowy, beautiful as ever, and flashing that smile as she leaned over from her locker.

sonya’s mind rocketed into orbit, unnecessarily conjuring a scene of mary in a dress, arm in arm with sonya as they stepped into the gymnasium, which was decked out for winter ball. sonya pushed the image away. mary wasn’t all that popular either, but she was far too smart for sonya.

“sonya? you okay?”

sonya blinked. “yes, fine.” her gaze flicked upwards, anywhere but mary’s face, and landed on one of the posters. “do you--i mean, are you going to winter ball?”

“i wasn’t planning to,” mary said, looking away.

“oh.

“are you?”

“no, i wasn’t going to either,” sonya said. ask her! screamed her brain. with a deep breath, she opened her mouth again, but the bell rang and mary closed her locker.

“see you,” mary said, and walked away, head down.

***

an hour has passed by the time sonya starts her car, and the sunset gleams behind the moscow rooftops. less than a week until christmas, and then...what? back to late nights alone with the cat and a book, back to early morning carpools to the nonprofit with pierre and natasha, back to matching her socks to her scarf every day even though nobody would know.

not a bad life, really. she loves the last tendrils of sunrise that she gets to watch on the drive to work as she sips the hot drink natasha always presses into her hands when she slides into the back seat. and she loves the cat, no matter how much of its hair she has to brush off her uniform in the mornings.

“i just...i want somebody to know what socks i’m wearing,” sonya says to the air. somebody besides the cat who will greet her as she slides her shoes off at the end of the day. it’s a tiny thing, but it hurts sometimes.

sonya parks and takes the stairs to her apartment. inside the door, she kicks off her shoes and stares down at her socks: black and white checks to match her black and white scarf. the cat obscures her view a moment later, winding around her shins.

she reaches down to pet it absentmindedly, then, on impulse, pulls out her phone. it’s been fifteen years, but...

sonya (7:15 pm): hey, i know it’s been a while, but do you still have andrei’s number?

natasha (7:16 pm): yeah, of course! he was just texting pierre that he’s back in town for christmas. what do you need it for?

natasha (7:16 pm): attachment, contact card: Andrei Bolkonsky

sonya (7:18 pm): thanks!

natasha (7:19 pm): no wait you have to tell me what’s going on

sonya laughs and swipes natasha’s message away. if this works out she’ll have a lot more to talk about later. she inputs the number into her phone, types a message to andrei, and hits send.

a quick series of texts later and she has it. the contact icon is depressingly blank, but sonya can still see mary’s smile in her mind’s eye. her thumb hovers over the keyboard, and she’s gritting her teeth in preparation to type when the phone starts ringing. an unknown number.

“hello?”

“it’s mary. andrei told me you wanted my number?”

sonya almost drops the phone. “yeah, i-uh, was just thinking i should have asked for it earlier when i saw you,”

“i was thinking the same”

“would you-would you want to get coffee sometime? while you’re in town?”

“yeah! yeah, sure, i’d love to catch up”

sonya closes her eyes. after all, why not? why not? “yes, that would be great too, but i was thinking more of...a date.”

the silence lasts only a second, but in sonya’s mind mary takes years to respond. “i...i’d love to.”

the rest of the call is a blur. sonya hangs up minutes later with her hands shaking, the smile on her face beginning to hurt her cheeks.

sonya (7:49 pm): tasha, i have great news

#the real question is...is kj not fucking. seasonally depressed anymore?#is it over for this year?#the answer is who knows #is this version of mary incredibly ooc for no discernable reason?#the answer is fuck yes but i'm publishing this anyway #sonyamary #tgc #tgc hc #my fic #kj speaks #fic and hcs #Anonymous

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peacekeeper-kala · 6 years

Text

a pharmercy thing

@actualasamisato wanted pharmercy or korrasami fluff and this is rly late and also i don’t actually know her but i am always around to help with pointless fluff

(i’ll draw something to go with this later)

It had been a long, long day in the newly-restored Watchpoint Gibraltar, and between injured trainees, construction of her new laboratory, and catching up with some of the old Overwatch members that had just arrived, Angela Ziegler had gotten precious little free time to relax.

Though every worker was laboring hard to get the facilities cleaned and in fully working order again, there were still patches of dust and cobwebs Angela could see as she walked down the once-again-lit hallways. Her heels clicked and echoed with every step, and some of the workers looked up and gave her a respectful nod as she passed. Though the people here were warm, she couldn’t help but feel that every steel wall and sliding door were nothing but old, icy barriers; they reminded her of the days she spent at Gibraltar when she was young and the halls were filled with life and laughter.

Lost in thought, Angela paid no mind to where she was going, just making a turn every now and again, she somehow ended up in the cafeteria. For once, it didn’t smell of rations and beer, but just dusty and metallic like the rest of the facility. She could hear Torbjörn hammering away at a machine within the kitchen in the back, occasionally swearing whenever something would crackle, or a part would fall off. No one else occupied the room at the moment, and though some part of Angela longed to go and talk to her old friend, she was more concerned with staying out of his way, and so left from the opposite door she’d arrived in.

Most of the early afternoon continued this way, and Angela only paused her aimless wandering when she got a call over the intercom, which crackled and squeaked with the effort, for her to return to her office to examine an urgent patient. Sighing, but glad for the distraction, she found her way back to the main corridor and to the outside pathways, winding her way back to the medical building.

As she neared her office, Angela could hear several strange voices speaking.

“You know you shouldn’t have been up there without a harness or a flight suit or something,” one voice said, female and middle-aged sounding.

Another, younger male voice chimed in after a moment. “Julie’s right. That was dangerous, we could’ve waited for the equipment to come in tomorrow.”

The first voice—Julie—sighed, and Angela could almost picture her rolling her eyes at whatever poor soul had managed to hurt themselves. She wondered for a moment if it was another young initiate, perhaps someone unfamiliar with the workings of the Watchpoint, but the voice she heard next, as she neared her office door, nearly made Angela freeze in her tracks.

“Yes, but it needed to be done. I’ve had worse.” The voice was young and female, and carried with it no small amount of pride. She was grinning to herself, Angela knew. Not ashamed.

“Besides, I’m sure the good doctor will patch me up in no time.” The sound of her voice, the beautiful but sharply accented English, was just the same as when Angela had last seen her. She had to force herself to the door, standing in front of it motionless for one heartbeat, two, three, before she tapped the button to open it on the keypad nearby.

Her office was still crowded with boxes of paperwork and medical supplies, and three people were crowded around and on an old hospital bed that Angela had been using to examine patients in the last few days. The two workers were standing on either side of the figure seated casually on the bed were dressed in blue, almost janitorial jumpsuits. Julie’s long black hair, streaked with gray, was twisted into a braid over her shoulder, and the younger man—Angela squinted briefly at his nametag long enough to make out the name Oliver—looked like he was freshly out of college. Angela stared at the both of them for a long moment, her eyes unwilling to fix on the figure in the middle, until she forced herself to.

Fareeha Amari’s deep brown hair had been cut shorter than last time, falling just to her shoulders, and was half-tied up in a messy ponytail. The tattoo over her eye had seemed to only multiply in intensity over the years, and it stuck out on her tanned skin nearly as much as the various scars that marked her hands and arms. Angela suspected there were many more hidden under her old boots and khaki working pants.

Forcing herself out of her own reminiscing, Angela looked over the Egyptian woman again, this time with a doctor’s eye. There was a cut just above her eye that was slowly leaking blood, and that eye was squinted shut to keep the blood out. Other than that, there were no open wounds, but when Angela’s eyes shifted downward, she could she an awkward bend in Fareeha’s forearm, a little further down than her elbow—clearly broken and likely the cause of the office visit.

It didn’t take Angela long to realize she’d just been standing there, silently staring at the three other in her office instead of greeting them or giving any kind of instruction. She blinked a few times until her mind and words returned to her.

“Julie, Oliver,” she addressed them, “I can take care of Fareeha from here. I can send her back to your area when we’re finished, if you’d like.”

The two exchanged a glance and then nodded. “Maybe you can talk a little safety into her, doc,” Oliver said as the two of them left the room.

Angela couldn’t help a little smile. “He treats you as if you aren’t many years his senior—in age and experience.”

Fareeha returned the expression, though it seemed restrained somehow. “He means well. They both do. And, to be fair, they did warn me that I should’ve have climbed on the old pipes.”

Angela closed the distance between them, gently holding Fareeha’s arm up and applying pressure in various places to feel for fractures and breaks.

“Let me guess, you fell and tried to catch yourself with this hand? Not wearing any safety gear? The one time you’re not in the Raptora suit.” She left the hospital bed to rummage around in a box full of splints and arm slings, and then another with medical tape and sanitizing wipes. When she turned back around. Fareeha had a sheepish grin on her face.

“I never could hide anything from you, could I?” She sighed, looking to the other for a reply.

Angela shook her head once, but said little else as she repaired the other woman’s arm, except for to tell her to brace herself when she had to set the bone. Her pride hadn’t changed, and she barely flinched when it happened, even at the sickening sound. The bandages, splint, and arm sling went on quickly afterwards, with no complaints from Fareeha. The cut over her eye was cleaned afterwards, with a damp cloth and antibiotic ointment smeared over it. Two small bandages were placed over it to hold it together until it could heal.

“If you’re injured nowhere else, you’re free to leave whenever you wish,” Angela finally said as she stowed her medical equipment back in the boxes. She knew she sounded curt, borderline rude, but she needed time to think. Being in such a small space with the woman she’d once cared so much for—her heart was racing, and she couldn’t fight the wild hope that flared like a small fire in her chest. The little ember that had held on all this time that they’d been apart.

Realistically, she knew there was no way Fareeha felt the same. Angela walked back to her to look her over once more, only to be frozen in her place once more a moment later.

Fareeha opened her other eye slowly, testing, and Angela couldn’t help the eye contact she assumed naturally with her. Her warm brown eyes smiled even when her lips did not, though the corners of her mouth tilted up as she slowly reached her good arm out and took hold of Angela’s left hand with it.

“And if I don’t want to leave?” Fareeha asked as she slowly stood from the bed, her voice innocent in tone. It was enough for Angela though; she knew that tone, and though Fareeha’s voice had changed a bit in their many years apart, it was just as devious as it had been when they were both younger women.

Angela was so much shorter than she remembered feeling last time they were together, and Fareeha forced her to look up to meet her eyes as she stepped closed, until the space between their faces was no more than a hand’s length. The doctor could feel tears trying to start, and blinked them back. Slowly, with unsure and shaky movements, Angela reached the hand not locked in Fareeha’s up to the other woman’s face. It hovered just above the surface, until Fareeha tilted her head into it, the smile finally spreading until it crinkled the corners of her eyes as well.

“Please don’t leave,” Angela said, her voice barely above a whisper. She could feel a tear or two leak out of the outer corners of her eyes, and Fareeha leaned in slowly to kiss them away. Angela smiled, truly smiled, for the first time since the team had begun returning to base, and used her hand to pull Fareeha closer, until their faces were only an inch apart and they could only see the other’s eyes. Crystalline blue stared into earthy brown, and Angela found herself visually tracing the Egyptian woman’s tattoo as her eyes trailed down to her lips and then back up.

“And this is what you want, Angela?” Angela could see the flicker of doubt in the other’s eyes, the small moment that never failed to occur when the two of them had been involved years ago, and that hadn’t seemed to change now. Fareeha pulled back just a fraction of an inch, but it was enough that Angela panicked and pushed herself up to her tiptoes, until their lips finally met.

It wasn’t really a kiss, Angela supposed. Too light, like the tickle of a feather, and Fareeha was too still. It didn’t last long, and when Angela pulled away, she had a moment of fear that she’d done something awful, until she felt the hand in hers leave to the back of her head, pulling her face back up to Fareeha’s and their lips together again.

This time it was better. It was not gentle or beautiful, but full of the longing that both of them had felt for so long. They kissed once, and then again, shorter, more of a peck on the lips, and Angela could feel the blush that spread over her face as they pulled apart, just enough to breathe. Fareeha’s undamaged arm pulled her closer, into a hug this time, and Angela was more than happy to bury her head in the crook of the taller woman’s neck. Fareeha leaned down to kiss her forehead.

“Alright. I’m not going anywhere, then.”

#pharmercy #fic #pharah #fareeha amari #mercy #angela ziegler #overwatch #actualasamisato

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letstrysomefanfic · 7 years

Text

I Thought We Already Weren’t PART 2 (Peter Parker x Reader Angst)

Request: anonymous asked: Ooh I love angst!! Can you do something where the reader has a huge crush on peter but he likes Liz and he asks her out on date and he asks the reader for help with everything so she basically plans the whole thing for him and he keeps saying things like “wow ur such a good friend” and out of jealousy she asks Flash on a date and they start to go out and Peter says he’s not good enough for her and they get into a huge argument and deicde it’s better if they stop being friends…

Word Count: 1,386

Warning: angst (yay), dating Flash (is that a warning?)

A/N: IT’S HERE!!! the much anticipated, highly demanded PART 2!! omygod i cannot express how EXCITED AND THRILLED i was to see how much you guys loved the first part. i was honestly so surprised and holy crap i didn't expect it to blow up that much and that quickly! you guys have no idea how much that meant to me and just thank you for loving it ❤️❤️❤️

anyway this is much shorter than the first part, because i actually got an idea so this can be a sort of set up to a possible 3rd part???? also there’s this one part/line in here that i’m especially proud of cuz it’s especially sad/angsty and i decided to be evil like that haha sorry (not rly) but i’m curious to see if you guys can pick out which line it is.

thanks again SO MUCH to the anon who requested this, this was such a good request ❤️❤️❤️ (pls reveal yourself to me if you can so i can spam you with much love and thanks)

Part 1 Part 3

You tucked your hands under your arms as you anxiously waited by the curb. The crisp night air was brushing against your face. You checked your watch for probably the thousandth time. Even though there were still a good five minutes until seven, a different kind of cold began to grow in your stomach. The confidence you had when you started this mess was nowhere to be found.

What if he didn’t show up? You must look like such a hopeful idiot, waiting here on the curb in the nicest shit you could dig up from your mediocre closet. Maybe you overstepped yourself. What if you were seen as desperate? So desperate that you asked out the biggest ass in school?

This was a mistake you thought. I should just go back upstairs. He’s probably not even gonna show up anyway. But what if he does? Better I reject him rather than the other way around I guess? He does need a bit of rejection in his life.

You glanced down at your watch again. Two minutes. You’d wait here two minutes more. Give Flash at least one minute past seven, then that’s it. If he wasn’t here, you were going back up. You’d have to find some other way to distract yourself.

Just as you thought this, a flash of silver zoomed into your vision, screeching to a halt right in front of you. Flash leaned his arm over to the passengers seat, nonchalantly tilting his head toward you.

“Someone ask for a hot date?” he smirked, one eyebrow raised.

“I asked to be wowed,” you scoffed, reaching for the car door. Still unsure if you were going to regret this or not, you fastened your seatbelt. You didn't hear Flash’s reply as an odd feeling washed over you, like you were being watched. You glanced around uneasily, but passed it off as maybe you were just really really nervous. “Let’s just get this show on the road, shall we?”

Unbeknownst to you, as the convertible peeled away, a figure leapt from a roof, swinging a safe distance behind it.

Peter watched grimly from the rooftop across the street as you turned back to smile and wave. He was relieved that there no sincerity in it at all. However, even with that comfort, he still couldn’t believe you had actually gone through with it. You had actually gone on a date with Flash. Goddamn fucking Flash.

He waited a little while after he saw the light turn on in your bedroom window. He did feel a little guilty for ‘tagging along’ the whole night. But it was for your safety, because he still cared, that’s all. Well maybe it was a little more than ‘just caring’, but he refused to acknowledge any more than that as he fired a web, headed home.

Those good ol’ crappy Monday blues washed over you as you yawned, lazily shutting your locker. Trudging to the cafeteria, you met Ned along the way.

“So,” he prodded, “how was it?”

You shrugged, “It was distracting.”

“Like actually? Like you didn’t think about you-know-who at all?”

“No, keep your voice down!” you hissed. “But yeah it surprisingly was really distracting, acting interested in his lavish, spoiled-brat life. The food helped too; it was all soooooo good.”

“Damn. Expensive though?”

“Hoooo yeah.”

“So, what? Are you gonna do it again since it worked? Is it even worth it?”

“Probably,” you replied. You felt a little guilty, using someone like this (even if it was Flash). As soon as you both had sat down at your usual spot, that raspy voice plopped down next you.

“Hey there, beautiful,” Flash leaned his elbow on the table, trying to appear cool.

You had to keep from laughing. “Hey, Flash,” you dragged out each vowel, hoping you didn’t sound too annoyed.

“So… Friday… I’d say you were pretty wowed, weren’t you?” Pausing from pulling out your lunch, you dramatically cocked your head, thinking. You could feel Peter’s eyes on you from two tables away.

“A little,” you sighed, turning to face Flash. “Your choice in venue was the only thing that really wowed me. That and the food.” He raised an eyebrow. “I dunno, I guess I just expected a little more, considering how much you boast about you being such a ‘great date’—”

“Hm, not easily impressed I see,” he squinted at you. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for the picky type, (Y/N).”

You chuckled, smirking, “You’d be surprised, Flash.” You met his eyes, silently challenging him. Knowing there was no way your confession of ‘not being wowed’ didn’t offend him, you waited for his offer.

“Well, I got a sort of reputation to uphold, and I can’t have anyone less than impressed at my… wooing skills,” he began. Ned had to stifle a snort, averting his eyes from Flash’s glare. It was painfully obvious how suave he trying to appear. “How’s about same time this Friday?”

You raised your eyebrows, borderline flirtatiously (gasp! something you never did unless it was unconsciously to Peter), “I expect to be wowed.”

Flash swung his legs from under the table, spinning up, “Oh, and uh, don’t worry about what to wear; I’ll send you something nice,” he called back as he strolled away.

Eyebrows raised, impressed and somewhat uneasy, you turned back to Ned. He had the same expression on his face. You both exhaled, laughing in shock.

“Damn, (Y/N), I didn’t know you had game!” Ned snickered. “Got Flash frickin Thompson wrapped around your finger!”

A heat crept to your cheeks as you slapped his arm, hissing, “Dude!”

As you giggled, you caught a quick sight of those warm doe eyes out of the corner of your own. Instantly your cheeks fell and your lips pursed into a grimace. That blunt stabbing gnawed your gut. In that one short millisecond, you both connected for the first time in months through the same unacknowledged agony and heartache. Peter had quickly averted his gaze but you had already seen it. That sadness, that anger, and was that… regret? Everything you saw in him, you were all too familiar with.

Peter turned to Liz with a small grin that didn’t reach his eyes. He wasn’t just jealous; he was hurting. Just like you were. But you realized you didn’t feel the satisfaction you were craving. Peter was wearing that face that so often would cause you to immediately be ready to fight whoever/whatever made him like that. And now it was because of you. Hanging your head down, you felt the guilt settle in your stomach, wishing you hadn’t brought that upon him.

If Peter had laser vision, Flash head would have two eye-sized holes in them. “I’ll send you something nice.” That phrase echoed in Peter’s mind. Flash couldn’t do that. He couldn’t expect to just win you over by ‘sending something nice’. He looked back at you expecting to see that classic eye roll you reserved just for that asshat. Instead you laughed. You blushed. He could only register his clenched fists; the rest of his body had gone numb. His face dropped, weighed down by what felt like betrayal and sadness.

“So I guess they’re dating now?” Liz murmured, confused. “Huh. I would’ve never seen that coming.”

Peter turned to face her, trying to focus on the amazing human sat next to him. His girlfriend. Girlfriend. Odd. That word didn’t have the same ring to it as it did a few weeks ago. He was scared to realize that Liz didn't have the same glow, either. Not like she had before. Not that she wasn’t any less beautiful, oh God no. Peter just couldn’t see her in the same light as he had when he’d so boldly and anxiously approached her that Tuesday so seemingly long ago.

Stop thinking like that, Peter told himself. None of this should be happening. He shouldn’t be experiencing what he was when he saw you. He shouldn’t be wanting to throttle Flash anymore than usual. He shouldn’t be thinking of Liz as any less than he had before. That word should have the same magical feeling to it. You and him should still be friends. Things should have never changed. There were all these things should be. But they weren’t.

Tag List

@emojit @5-seconds-of-sarcasmm @littlemisscaptainfandom @emily-ily2 @insert-a-cool-username-here @walkers-imagine @littlefrota @grant-valdes-holland

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runwiththieves-blog · 7 years

Text

coffee in the morning ;

“I could do that,” he states a minute later, and he nods his heads a few times as if it’s some sort of confirmation as he mulls it over, and you look at him like you’re confused.

“Do what?” You question, and he blinks at you.

“Be your boyfriend,” he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and it makes your heart beat a bit faster.

“You mean fake boyfriend.”

Harry and Y/N work at a coffee shop and he’s never been a good actor

12k+, fluff, smut, ripping of panties mid-fuck, and just a dash of angst

OKAAAY SO, i’ve been dead around here because i’ve been working on this for a few days now! special shoutout to @mermaidsonships for letting me yell about apple (that’s what we named the girlie in this amongst our texts) and harry as well as bounce ideas off of u! i love u sister! i’ve got a fixation of fake bf harry + harry being rly teasing so if u combine those 2 things u get this big mess of a thing! i hope u enjoy!

You hate talking to your mother on the phone.

Correction: you hate that ever since you moved a few states away for university the only thing your mother seems to want to ask when you’re on the phone is whether or not you’ve made any friends yet or if you’re seeing anyone. It’s repetitive, annoying, and if you’re completely honest it makes you feel pretty bad about your current social life (or lack thereof). It wasn’t that you didn’t want an Instagram worthy college experience, you just never had time for anything other than a passing conversation with your roommate or one of your co-workers. Grades and a decent living were too important to let your priorities get mixed up. You had one goal: graduate, land your dream job, and then you can live your life. You’ve told your mom those exact words a hundred times over and her response is always the same: “I just don’t want you to feel so lonely, Y/N. Being a functioning member of society is important, too.”

You know she’s right, is the thing, and you think that’s probably why it annoys you so much. You already know. You know having someone who can really be there for you when you need a shoulder to lean on is important. You know that keeping yourself locked away in your apartment or in a library when you’re not in class or at work isn’t exactly healthy. You know that having no real life human interactions, aside from the ones you have at work, isn’t the way to convince her that you’re happy where you are. You sigh, tearing yourself away from your own thoughts when you read the number on the clock on your dashboard, signaling that your break is over and you need to go back into work. Death would be more inviting, considering the mood you’re in after that phone call.

Eventually, you drag yourself back into the small café, and your mood is almost instantly lifted. One of your co-workers, Harry, is standing behind the counter now. You’re guessing his shift started while you were away, but he throws his hands up in the air in celebration as soon as he sees you. “There she is!” The way he all but yells it makes you blush, and you push a strand of hair that had managed to escape the bun on top of your head behind your ear. You look down in an attempt to hide the smile that has spread across your face. Harry was the closest thing you had to a friend in this town, but he was more of just a work friend than anything else. He was usually who you worked your shifts with and you think that’s part of why you loved your job so much, despite it being a simple barista job. Harry had a way of lighting up a room and any situation he was thrown into. It was just who he was as a person, and that’s something you had learned quickly. Not to mention he was awfully sweet and ridiculously cute, so you didn’t imagine it took much for him to have entire rooms of people falling for his charm.

“Was afraid you’d left me f’good this time, love.” You hear his voice again when you’re back behind the counter and you’re pulling your apron over your head. You don’t have the chance to tie it yourself before you realize Harry’s doing it for you. “Would’ve broken m’heart, y’know,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. It makes your heart flutter, even if he is joking. Pretending to be your boyfriend was something Harry had started up when you first started working at the shop. He had slinked up beside you while you were ringing up an elderly woman at the beginning of your second week, put an arm around you and began quizzing the poor woman on whether or not she thought you were beautiful. “Most beautiful girl ‘ve ever seen, I swear it,” he had said, and you felt yourself go warm all over at the sentiment. “Don’ y’agree? Jus’ lovely, isn’t she?” He had pressed on, looking down at you, and you let out a breath of nervous laughter. His thick British accent and slow way about talking was enough to have you melting, so the things he said definitely didn’t help matters. “You two make an adorable couple,” the woman finally said, and Harry beamed as he passed her order over to her. “Thank you very much,” he’d told her proudly, patting at your hip as you watched the lady place a few bills in the tip jar. After that, it just became a normal thing between the two of you. You never asked him why he did it, you just let him have his fun and played along. It helps pass the time and there’s likely something a just little bit worse than people thinking you’re dating Harry.

“You know I’d never leave you,” you tell him, smoothing your apron as you turn to face him. He’s grinning down at you, his eyes bright and green and seemingly extra sparkly today. That’s where you place your blame as to why you held his gaze for maybe a beat too long before looking down to the ground. “Really did miss ya’,” he says, and you roll your eyes fondly as you step towards the sink to wash your hands. “You weren’t even here before I went to lunch, Styles,” you point out and he only shrugs. “Don’ have t’be here t’miss ya’.” He makes a point that even you can’t argue with, but that doesn’t stop you from shaking your head and ignoring the butterflies that his words give you. “You’re ridiculous.” This time he’s the one rolling his eyes. “And you love it,” he smirks, staring down at you again. “I do not,” you argue, and he taps your cheek gently. “Then why y’blushin’, pet?” The gesture only makes you blush more. You’d hate Harry Styles if he weren’t so damn wonderful.

–

You’re fucked.

You didn’t realize how incredibly fucked you actually were until you hung up the phone with your mother, but you are completely and undeniably fucked. You thought it would be a little white lie to soothe your mother’s constant interrogating and never ending bickering. She was always nagging you to get out of the house and to put yourself out there, and it made you want to scream. Today you had finally had enough of it, and when she asked you the inevitable question, you told her that you had a boyfriend, and had you had been together for a few months. She was so excited that you suppose you just couldn’t leave it at that. No, you had to go and tell her that said boyfriend was Harry. Fucking Harry as in the Harry that you work with, because you throw that in as if it’s some sort of bonus fact. You don’t know why you said his name. Maybe it was because he’s not only the only guy, but the only person in this town that you really talk to. Or perhaps it’s because he’s always joking about it, anyway. Whatever the reason, you were kicking yourself for doing it at all now. Especially when you remember that she’s asked you to video chat with her the next time you’re with him. And. Well. You don’t know how you’re going to pull that off, but you agreed to it nonetheless. Maybe you’ll fake a breakup and then your own death.

The café has been ridiculously busy for a Tuesday night, but you and Harry assume it’s due to finals, considering all the laptops and endless cups of coffee you two have been serving all night. The tips have been nice, but it also means that you and Harry have hardly spoken, which is even nicer considering you can hardly look him in the eye after your earlier conversation with your mom. What isn’t so nice is the fact that you’re certain the two of you will be here an hour later than usual to close tonight, and you know that he’s going to try and make up for how impersonal all of your conversations were tonight. You can’t look him in the eye, but you also can’t act different from how you normally are, because then he’s going to know something’s up with you.

The door has only been locked five minutes before that plan has fallen through already. “’S wrong?” He asks, and you shake your head and shrug far too quick for him to think you’re telling the truth.“‘M fine. Just tired, ‘s all.” Harry shakes his head and scrunches his nose like he doesn’t believe you. “No – don’ think tha’s it, love. ‘Ve seen y’tired after a long night. This ‘s somethin’ different.” He says it so matter-of-factly that you’re almost mad at him for it, but he’s right – you both know it. You sigh, and it makes you feel guilty, because you’re getting annoyed, and it’s not even his fault. He doesn’t know what you’ve done and he’s just trying to be a good friend. “Just – leave it alone, Harry,” you try, and he shakes his head again and shrugs his shoulders. “Can’t do that, m’afraid. ‘Specially now ‘cos I feel like ‘ve got somethin’ t’do with it,” he replies, and you feel like you’re about to start crying. Or lock yourself in the freezer. Either one works. Harry leans the broom he’s been sweeping with against the wall and comes to lean over the counter across from you.

“I just wiped that down,” you tell him, glancing down to where his arms are folded on top of the counter. “I know – wish I’d realized that before I tried t’be smooth and lean over t’talk t’you. Now ‘m all wet,” and his laugh makes you smile. “Would ya’ look a’that. Y’ve still got a sense ‘f humor,” he teases, and your eyes roll as you work along rest of the countertop. “Come sit down ‘nd talk t’me,” he says, and you glance back over to him. “Harry – we’ll be here all night ‘f we stop cleaning,” you answer and he grins widely. “Wouldn’t mind that. Not with you,” and he’s got you flushing all over like he always does at that.

“You’ve got to stop saying things like that,” you tell him, and it just makes him smirk as he lifts up to circle back behind the counter. “Why’s that?” He challenges, and you look over and up to where he’s standing beside you now. You give him the one-word answer of “because,” and he grabs your wrist to still your hand with the washcloth in it. “Come talk to me,” he’s looking down at you with such a soft expression, but the only reason you agree is to get his hand off of you before he feels that you’re literally warm all over from his shameless flirting.

It’s a booth that Harry leads you to. He slides in first, and then seems almost disappointed when you don’t slide into the same side as him, but he doesn’t mention it if he is. “Will y’please tell me wha’s botherin’ you now?” He questions, and you sigh, your hands resting against the table between you. “Do I have to?” You counter, and he nods, can’t help but grin at you as he does so. “You do, ‘cos ‘m not leavin’ this table ‘til you talk t’me,” he says, and you open your mouth to speak again, but he’s speaking again before you get the first syllable out, “’Nd you’re not, either.”

You’re silent for a long time, just staring at him as if he’ll give in and change his mind at any moment. Which he doesn’t, and it’s not surprising at all. You let out a breath as you seemingly relax back against the softness of the booth and Harry shifts in anticipation. “Fine – just promise me you’re not gonna’, like, freak out, okay? It was an honest mistake,” you explain, and his eyebrows furrow for a moment before he nods. “’M not gonna’ freak out,” he assures you, and your eyes flick over his face and you stretch a hand towards him with your pinky out. “Promise,” you urge, and he glances down to your hand before he’s lacing your fingers together and holding your hand rather than just pinky promising you. You let him, though, watching him as he brushes his thumb along your knuckles. “I promise.”

Apparently that’s all it takes for him to have you talking. You’re pretty sure you’d answer anything he asked you, so long as he’s holding your hand while you do it. “I told my mom we were dating.” You don’t ease him into it anymore than you already had, and you expect some sort of reaction, but you get nothing because Harry’s just staring at you with the tiniest smirk. It makes you anxious and you decide you should probably further explain yourself. “She just – she’s something else, y’know? Like, she’s always pried into my social life, but it’s like it got twenty times worse when I moved away from home. She asks me all the time if I’m seeing anyone, Harry – and it’s so fucking frustrating, because I have exactly one friend here – which is you, by the way – so of course I don’t have a boyfriend. I mean, like, shouldn’t that be obvious? But she always asks and I’ve always told her no, until today, and I don’t know why I did it, but I did,” by the time the words are out of your mouth, Harry’s full on smirking at you, and you squeeze his hand harshly, because if you tried to swat at him with your non-dominant hand it’d be a fail, and you don’t need the added embarrassment right now.

“Think you made tellin’ me ‘m your only friend here a bigger deal than what it was, love,” are the first words he says to you and you blink at him. He’s teasing you. You’re in the middle of a crisis and Harry’s teasing you. “Harry, I swear to God,” you start, and he’s laughing as he smiles at you from across the table. “’M jokin’, sweetheart,” he reminds, and you think you could kill him if for no other reason than that pet name alone. “I could do that,” he states a minute later, and he nods his heads a few times as if it’s some sort of confirmation as he mulls it over, and you look at him like you’re confused. “Do what?” You question, and he blinks at you. “Be your boyfriend,” he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and it makes your heart beat a bit faster. “You mean fake boyfriend,” you question, even though it comes out as more of a correction. He shifts so that he’s closer to the table, but he still hasn’t let your hand fall from his grasp. “Yeah, yeah – I could – I wouldn’t mind. I do it anyway, don’t I?” He sounds so sure of himself, of the situation, of you that it makes you want to crawl out of your own skin.

You almost agree to it, but you shake your head before the words escape and you fall into an even bigger web of lies than you’ve already gotten yourself into. “No – Harry, we can’t. It’s not like she’s here, anyway, so she’ll never have to know. I’ll just tell her we ended it in a week or two. It’ll be fine,” you assure and he rubs his thumb against your skin. He’s got really nice, big hands. They’re unexpectedly soft, warm, and he’s got a ring on nearly every finger. The realization sends a chill down your spine that you instantly try to shake off, and then you hear Harry’s voice again. “Isn’t that just gonna’ have her buggin’ y’even more? Askin’ ‘f you’re alright, ‘nd stuff ‘cos now y’goin’ through a breakup, too?” He asks, and you practically whine. “Jus’ – lemme’ help ya’, lovebug. We’ll take some selfies, look all coupley and cozy – y’can send ‘em t’her. Hell, we can even FaceTime her sometime, yeah? Let her see that I really do exist,” and it’s an offer that you really can’t refuse, considering that’s all she wanted from you, and you never even had to ask Harry if he’d do it. “Are you sure?” You murmur, and he nods almost immediately. “’F course ‘m sure. Just need ya’ t’promise me one thing now,” he starts, and you look at him nervously. “Gotta’ promise y’not gonna’ fall in love w’me,” he says, and you laugh loudly. “Couldn’t be more of a cliché if you tried, Styles.”

–

You’re on a date with Harry.

Well, you’re kind of on a date with Harry. It’s a faux date, all for show when your mom FaceTimes you in a bit, but still. Currently, you’re leaning against his kitchen counter as you watch him cook for the two of you, scrolling through various apps before getting bored and closing them all. “Have you been studying the index cards I gave you?” You ask, and he snickers as he chops various vegetables. “Mhm,” he hums, and you decide it wouldn’t hurt to quiz him on the things you think your mom will probably ask. “How’d we meet?” You ask right after that, and his smile widens, but he’s still not looking at you. “House party -- did a half naked body shot ‘ff ‘f you, and the rest is history.” He sounds completely serious and you’re already pouting at him, but you decide to press on. “Where was our first date, then?”

“Took y’to a drive-in movie and fucked you in the backseat of m’car, didn’t I?” He’s smirking as he speaks, and you whine this time, because these are not the notes you gave him.

“Harry.”

“What? S’what ya’ wrote in the notes, innit?” He’s got more of a teasing tone now, and there’s a smirk tugging at his lips.

“No. It’s not and you know it’s not,” You answer. Harry laughs. “It’s not funny, Harry.”

“’S a little funny,” he argues, and you roll your eyes, pushing back from the counter and it’s looks like you’re about to leave, which just isn’t going to do for him. “Hey -- no, love. ‘M jokin’, yeah?” He says, pushing a pan onto one of the cool burners on the stove while he steps away and towards you. “Promise ‘m not gonna’ fuck it up,” he murmurs, reaching for one of your hands and lacing your fingers together like he had the night you had told him about the whole situation. “Promise,” he repeats, squeezing your hand and you nod, a small smile tugging at your lips as you look him over. “You look like a prince.” You give him the compliment while you’ve still got his hand in his, and he grins widely. “You look like a princess,” he replies, and you can’t help but smile despite the fact that you know it’s not true. He’s in a ruffled white button down, and you’re in jeans and a shirt you pulled out of the back of your closet. You make sure you point that out. “I’m wearing jeans, Styles.” He only shrugs, smiling fondly. “Doesn’t mean anything. You’re still gorgeous. Still can be m’princess.” His words make your heart flutter, and you seriously consider just walking out of his apartment, because there’s no way you deserve this man as even your fake boyfriend.

He ruins all of that in the next moment, though, because he’s Harry, so of course he’s got to make you want to slap him right after he’s given you the sweetest compliment. “I might forgive ya’ f’not dressin’ up if ya’ just take it all off, though. Think we’d be even, then,” he teases, and you decide it’s about time you give him a taste of his own medicine. “You take it all off first, ‘nd we’ll see,” and it comes out much flirtier than you’d ever meant for it to, but you gently remind yourself that you also just told him to take off all his clothes, so was there really a different way that could have come out? He raises an eyebrow, and you nod towards him as if to say ‘go on.’ “You sure tha’s wha’ ya’ want, kitten?” You force yourself not to press your thighs together at that, because he’s asked you if you want him to strip and called you ‘kitten’ all within the same breath, and it makes you feel a little lightheaded. You tease him still, looking at him with a face of sheer confidence as you nod.

You expect him to start laughing, go back to cooking, literally anything else besides actually untuck his shirt and start unbuttoning it not a second after. “Wait, Harry -- no. I was joking,” you protest, and he just smirks and licks his lips absently. “Harry, stop,” you whine as his hands move lower and lower, but he catches the way you look at him when you spot the black ink contrasting with his tan skin in the center of his torso. You must stare for a long time, because he’s got his shirt unbuttoned completely, hanging off of his shoulders, and it’s revealed a fern leaf inked on either side of his hips. You think your mouth may actually be watering. You don’t think about it when your fingertips trace over the slightly raised lines in his skin, following the pattern carefully. You hear Harry’s breath hitch above you when your fingers accidentally brush against the waist of his black skinnies. You move your hand away from him altogether then, feeling hot all over, and you can barely force yourself to look back up at him. You can feel where his eyes are still on you, though, and you swallow hard when you do finally manage to make eye contact once again. “They’re pretty,” you tell him, noticing how dark his eyes look now, and how his gaze falls down to your mouth when you speak. His lips are on yours before you ever have the chance to ask why he’s so uncharacteristically quiet all of the sudden.

Harry is a fucking remarkable kisser. You’ve discovered this because you, surprisingly, don’t pull away as soon as you realize what’s happening. No, you let your lips meld with his and kiss him like it’s the last thing you’re ever going to do. There’s a moment after the first initial kiss when Harry pulls back and rests his forehead against yours, his breathing heavy, but the sight of your lips curling into a small smile makes him kiss you again. Except this time, he’s got his hands on your hips and he’s guiding back towards the couch in the connected living room. “The food,” you murmur against his mouth, your hands holding him at the back of his neck, and Harry just shakes his head. “Turned it off,” he informs, and you’re collapsing onto the couch with the weight of him on top of you with the confirmation that his apartment isn’t going to burn to the ground anytime soon.

There are no whispered confessions about this having been a long time coming, how he’s wanted to kiss you for ages, and there are none from you, either. It’s so intense that you feel like any words would be lost in the feeling of his mouth on yours, anyway. Especially when his insistent mouth pries open your own to slide his tongue against yours, and you can’t help but moan into the kiss. You make note of the way he kisses in the back of your mind -- he’s gentle, but he’s demanding, and it makes your melt under his touch. He seems to know just how much teeth and tongue to throw in to make it enjoyable for the both of you, and his fucking hands are everywhere, on your neck, under your shirt against your hip, big and warm and absolutely welcome on your skin. Your hand presses back against one of the ferns, and you tease along his waistline, scratching your fingers through his happy trail and smirking into the kiss when he grinds down against you in response. He’s the one with his fingers playing at the button of your jeans a second later, and he’s just about to thumb them open... But then your phone rings.

Your eyes are wide as soon as you hear your mom’s ringtone blaring, and you want to scream at just the thought of having to stop whatever it is you and Harry were just minutes from doing. “I’m sorry,” you apologize as he sits up and settles into a corner of the couch, pushing a hand through his hair as he looks over to you. “”S okay, love -- jus’ got caught up in the moment,” he assures, and you nod before you walk back towards the kitchen to get your phone from the counter. You’ve got one notification of a missed FaceTime call from your mom, and you inform Harry of your newest discovery. “’M gonna’ go change shirts, ‘f that’s ‘lright? Got this one all wrinkly.” You nod, but you’re also blushing, doing your best to make yourself look presentable after all of that. You had a million different thoughts racing through your mind, and there wasn’t one that didn’t have to do with Harry.

You’re back on the couch when he comes back, and you try not to laugh when you see his shirt. “Is that Britney Spears?” You question, and he glances down and nods as he comes to sit beside you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. “I prefer t’call her ‘Queen of Pop,’ but to each their own,” he says matter-of-factly, and you laugh loudly as your head falls back against his shoulder. “Ridiculous, I tell you,” you mumble, and he squeezes your shoulder. “Y’gonna’ call y’mum back or keep her waitin’ ‘cos you like makin’ fun ‘f me?” He raises a brow at you and you grin. “Could really keep going, honestly. She’ll be fine,” you shrug, and he takes your phone from your hand and swipes the notification so that it’s calling her back instantly. “Should we be makin’ out when she answers?” He questions, and you swat his arm as you try to lean into frame, because as it is, he’s holding the phone so that it’s only him in the camera. You tense against him when you hear your mom’s voice.

“One day you’ll learn to answer th--” She cuts herself off, and your best guess is that Harry’s image has just come through on her screen, “Oh! Hi, you must be Harry!” She sounds so excited that it makes your insides twist. “’S me. Harry,” he says, and he sounds so smiley and happy through the exchange. “It’s lovely to meet you! You’re so cute. Y/N said you were, but I didn’t think she meant quite this cute,” Harry smirks down at you, you blush, and he digs his fingertips into your skin. You remember now when you told your mom about how cute Harry is, without even being prompted -- ‘he’s got dark hair and the prettiest eyes, mom. And, god, his smile. It’s my favorite thing about him.’ Maybe you shouldn’t have gone quite that far with her. “Did she now? Always braggin’ on me, that one.” Harry’s teasing you through a conversation with your mother, and you think he’s reached a whole new level of annoying.

Eventually, Harry tilts the phone so that it’s on its side and you’re both visible. The three of you carry on like that for an hour or so. Your mom asks Harry a million questions, and he answers every one of them perfectly. It makes you swoon. He’s sort of the perfect fake boyfriend, but you decide it’s best if you keep that to yourself. When you hang up (Harry with a promise to chat again soon), you shift so you’re not leaning into his side anymore. He blinks at you and you watch him silently. “Your mum is nice,” he says, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “She likes you,” you state, and he grins. “I like her,” he replies, reaching out to poke your cheek, “and her daughter.” You shake your head fondly, letting out a breathy laugh. You wonder for a moment if he’s expecting things to pick up where they left off before your phone rang, and you almost want them to, but then he’s standing from the couch and offering an outstretched hand to you. “We never finished dinner,” he says as an explanation, and you follow his lead to the kitchen. Neither of you bring up what happened between the two of you and you go home to sleep in your own bed that night.

You hate Harry Styles.

You realized your hatred this morning, precisely an entire week after you nearly let him fuck you on his couch. An entire week has gone by, and there has been no mention whatsoever of him even kissing you, let alone the fact that he was about a millisecond away from popping the button on your jeans open when your mother called and ruined it all. It’s so frustrating; it’s all you’ve been able to think about, and he’s just gone back to normal as if nothing ever happened. Then again, it’s sort of your fault, too. You are just as capable of speaking up as Harry is, but you haven’t said anything about it, either. Maybe that’s what he’s waiting for; after all, he’s the one who made the first move and kissed you, anyway. Maybe it wasn’t fair that you were expecting him to do all the work. The only problem is that you are much more stubborn than you’d like to admit, so you make the mental decision to not bring it up, either.

You’re currently at the register taking orders while Harry makes said orders. It’s a nice system the two of you worked out a long time ago. It also gave you the chance to doodle and write little notes on the to-go cups for Harry. It was one of the quirkier things about your friendship (and just you in general), but the customers were always endeared and Harry had voiced a million times over how cute he thought it was. It was usually little doodles of the sun with 'hi!' written out beside it, a few hearts here and there, sometimes quick portraits of the night sky, but more often than anything else it was a line or two from one of your favorite songs at the moment. You were clueless to the fact that Harry always looked up the lyrics and added the songs to a playlist under your name. He didn't know why he did it, but to be fair he didn't really know why you spent a few moments a day doodling on cups for him, either. He also didn’t know if the lyrics had any sort of significance to your relationship with him. He had decided it was all just part of your system awhile back to save himself the headache of wondering. You only think for a moment before you decide to go for it, penning the lyrics from a Rolling Stones song, one of your shared favorites: ‘we spent a lonely night at the memory motel.’ You followed it with a dainty heart beside it, and you wonder whether or not he’ll catch onto the message you’re trying to send this time around. If he does, he doesn’t show it.

When you turn back to the register there is a very cute boy standing in front of you and he’s smiling, looking far too happy to just be ordering a cup of coffee. You ask for his order and then his name, nonetheless, but he catches you off guard when he asks you to write your number down, too. Your laugh comes out a bit breathless, but Harry’s by your side before you get past the ‘seven’ at the beginning of your number. “’Fraid she can’t do that, man. ‘S policy,” Harry says, and the guy stands up a bit straighter as if he’s trying to appear taller than Harry (which he’s definitely not). You’re staring up at Harry, confused, and when he looks down at you, you raise an eyebrow expectantly. “Sorry, Y/N -- guess I forgot t’mention it when I was trainin’ you. People normally feel too weird and stalkerish to do it, so I figured it’d never be an issue,” he tells you, glancing to the boy on the other side of the counter after the dig at him, and you can feel the rush of heat to your cheeks. You’re not stupid -- there is no book of policies lying around, just a set of general, basic rules given to you by the owner of the café. He pats your shoulder as he takes the cup from your hand, looking down to read what the guy has ordered. “Fuckin’ disgustin’ drink, mate,” he tells him. Apparently cursing at the customers is permitted. Harry definitely makes the drink taste awful on purpose.

The tension between you and Harry is different from what it was the other night. There’s tension now because you’re pissed at him, and not because you want him to fuck you into any surface he possibly can. He clearly didn’t want you, not really, so how could he ruin any chance you might have with someone else? It wasn’t fair. You’ve been angry all day, really, and you know he knows. Especially when you only speak to him when he asks a question about an order. You’ve just locked the doors for the night and finished cleaning in silence when you corner him in the stockroom, because you just can’t take it anymore. “What the fuck was that?” He looks so surprised when you speak that it makes you even angrier. “What?” He asks it so innocently, like he’s clueless as to what he’s done, but you both know exactly what you’re talking about. It makes your blood boil. “’S policy,” you repeat his own words back to him in a mocking tone, and he fucking smirks like he always does. “It is policy,” he answers, and you huff. “You’re a fucking liar -- we have, like, ten rules, maybe. That’s not one of them,” you tell him, and he looks you over quickly and clicks his tongue. “You’re hot when you’re pissed off.” You could slap him. And you do -- you slap his chest, and he chuckles low in his throat.

“I just don’t understand, Harry -- why’d you do it?” You press further, and he shrugs. “You’re mine. Not a fan ‘f sharin’,” he replies nonchalantly and you stare at him. The back room feels like it’s closing in on you and it’s making you feel a little dizzy. How can he pretend he’s never even kissed you and call you his all at the same time? “You’re supposed to be my fake boyfriend, ‘nd only on occasion,” you argue, and he licks his lips as he looks you over again. It makes you feel incredibly small, despite how in-charge of the situation you’re trying to be. His next statement hits you like a ton of bricks: “Yeah, well, I can’t stop thinkin’ about fuckin’ ya’ ‘til ya’ can’t walk, but I ‘spose that’s fake, too, innit?” You’re on him before he’s hardly even got the words out of his mouth.

You’re on don’t know what comes over you, but you’re the one pressing yourself up against him and he’s being shoved up against the wall, your hands on his chest as you kiss him. This kiss is harder than any other one you’ve shared -- a whole lot of teeth, tongue, and your lips are pressing against his so harshly that you practically feel them bruising. You can feel his hands everywhere on you, can hear him when he lets out a throaty sort of laugh after you bite his bottom lip and tug. “Thought ya’ were mad at me,” he teases, and you’ve got your hands up under his t-shirt, so you dig your nails into the skin. “I am,” you answer, and he smirks, his fingers curling over your hips, digging into the skin as he pushes you back until you’re the one up against the wall opposite from where you’re standing. You’re pretty sure something falls from a shelf, but neither of you could be fucked to care right now. “Doesn’t seem like it,” he murmurs, and you hate how cocky he is, but what you hate even more is how fucking hot it is. “Shut up,” you groan, and you press your hips up against his, and he lets his hands slip around to cup your ass, pushing you up against his growing bulge as he squeezes.

“Quite mouthy when ya’ mad, kitten,” he whispers, and you whine at the pet name, grinding up against him, your arms snaked around his neck and your lips working over his jaw until he reconnects them to his own. It’s the kind of kiss that’s so distracting that you don’t even realize he’s successfully popped the button on your jeans, and is slipping a hand inside to cup your cunt over your panties, and he groans into the kiss when he feels where you’ve soaked through. He doesn’t let you get away with it without saying something. “Soak y’knickers when y’mad at me, too, apparently,” he whispers, and your hips buck against his hand when his fingers press against your clit through the lace. “Please,” you breathe, all but clawing at the back of his shoulders every time his hand moves the least bit. He quite likes how desperate he’s gotten you, he realizes, and he presses his fingers up against your clit a bit harder just to get a rise out of you. “Harry -- swear to fucking God I’m never going to fucking speak t’you again iff you don’t do something,” you threaten, and he just holds his smirk. “Yeah? Y’want it that bad, sweetheart?” He’s still teasing you, his fingers dragging over your folds slowly as he speaks, his lips right at your ear, and his touches combined with his voice send a shiver down your back.

“Think I can make y’cum on jus’ m’fingers?” He questions, and you nod quickly, your lips brushing against his neck as he looks down between the two of you. You’d never pictured that the first time you and Harry successfully hook up, it’d be in the stockroom of the coffee shop, but you also never thought you’d get this far with him. He apparently has intentions of actually following through this time, though, because he’s slipping his hand past the waistband of your panties in the next second. “Gotta’ be good ‘nd use my fingers on ya’ pretty clit t’get off,” he instructs, pressing his thigh between your legs and you groan at the feeling almost instantly. You do use his fingers, grinding against the tips of them, along with his thigh, and you’ve got your face buried in his neck as you do so.

Harry’s rubbing against your clit furiously, dipping his fingers between your folds every few moments to collect some of your wet and make the glide against your clit easier. He’s also really fucking hard against your thigh, you realize, and it makes you nip at the side of his neck and grind harder against him. “Wanna’ cum, Harry,” you practically moan, but it’s quiet, right in his ear, and it makes him slide his hand further until his wrist is covered with you and he has two fingers pressing inside your entrance. It’s difficult, considering you’re still fully clothed and the angle isn’t the best, but it’s so fucking nice to feel his fingers fucking into your cunt the way that they are. He’s so good about curling them just enough, petting along your walls, and pressing the tips of them right against the spongy place inside of you that has you crying out. He’s pressing his thumb back to your clit as if it’s some sort of reward to your scream, and he rubs in quick circles. “‘M gonna’ fucking cum,” you tell him, and he presses a kiss to your jaw, fucks his fingers into you a bit harder, a bit deeper, and you can feel the ridges where his fingers meet his rings inside your cunt -- it makes you clench around them. “Cum, love -- soak my whole hand, yeah? Give it t’me,” he encourages, and he moans when you tighten around his digits as you cum not a minute later. He’s watching you as you do -- your lips parted in the prettiest ‘o’ shape he’s ever seen, and you are clawing at the back of his shoulders now, crying out his name repeatedly. He thinks it’s probably the most beautiful symphony he’s ever heard.

When you come down, he finally pulls his fingers from inside of you, licks them clean -- which is obscene, and you know it’s something that’s going to play a hundred times over in the back of your head -- and buttons your jeans for you.

“Y’still mad?” He murmurs, nudging his nose against yours and you pretend to consider the question for a moment before shaking your head.

“Nope.”

“Y’wanna’ help me out?” He presses his hard cock to your thigh.

“Nope.”

You pat him over his jeans, squeezing at his cock, and you smirk at the breathless sound he makes in response as you slip from between him and the wall and turn around so you’re walking backwards towards the exit. “Oh -- Harry! My mom wants us to come for the weekend in a couple of weeks. Fourth of July,” you tell him, smiling from ear to ear. “You in?” You question, licking over your lips as you grab for your purse from under the counter, looking back up to see where he’s still hard and leaning against the wall. “Wouldn’t miss it,” he grits out after a moment, and you smile small and to yourself as you wait for him to gather himself so you two can leave for the night.

You hate flying.

You always have. It’s always been something you’ve complained about. You had just never realized how much you truly loathe it until today. It’s not just the being up in the air, either, it’s the whole experience -- from the moment you load the car to go to the airport, to the parking, to checking in, to security, to getting to your gate and waiting to board. It’s every little thing, and having Harry along for the ride really isn’t helping like you thought it might, because he’s probably more anxious than you are. He can’t stop bouncing his knee, for one, and it’s something you noticed the second you sat down at the gate. “Haven’t flown since I came here for m’freshman year,” he tells you when he notices that you’re staring at him, and you realize why he’s telling you that just after. He’s nervous. “Didn’t think you were afraid of anything,” you respond, because you didn’t. Especially not something as common as flying. He was always so smug and cocky, so you assumed that part of his personality always overlapped into everything he ever did. He looks at you after that, though, and his eyes have softened from the panic that you saw in them just moments ago. “’S gonna’ be okay. Gonna have a good flight there, and lots of fun with your new best friend after we land,” you assure, and he smiles when you reference your mom as his new best friend.

The actual flight there isn’t nearly as bad as you and Harry had been silently anticipating. In fact, it’s not bad at all. It’s short and nonstop, so you’re thankful for that. You’re also thankful for the way Harry holds your hand and lets you lean against him for most of the flight, curled up into his side. You told him it was only fair for him to cuddle you, considering he got the window seat, and he had agreed easily, but you don’t think he would’ve needed much convincing regardless. As for the hand holding: that had started when you placed your hand on his thigh, and he had been quick to notice and trace around where your fingers were spread against the fabric of his jeans with his own. When you flipped your hand and he traced along the lines in your palm, he had simply laced your fingers together and neither of you said a word about it.

Unsurprisingly, neither of you have said a word about what happened right before you asked him to come on this trip with you a couple of weeks ago, either. It was exhausting pretending that every time you had to go into the back at work for a refill of to-go cups or sweeteners, all you could think about is the way Harry had pressed you up against the wall and fucked you with his fingers until you were cumming around them. It makes you press your thighs together each time you think about it, and you honestly can’t figure out how the two of you just keep going right back to normal every time something abnormal happens in your relationship. It’s probably even more frustrating for him, because you just left him high and dry in the back. It probably put a dent in his ego, now that you think about it, but he also sort of deserved it. He was being a dick, so really you were the only one who deserved to cum that night.

“You nervous?” You hear Harry’s voice suddenly; it pulls you from your thoughts and you peer up at him, your thumb dragging against his skin. “No, think we’re gonna’ have fun,” you answer, and you stare at him as he nods, “What about you?” He huffs, his eyebrows knitted together like he’s debating his answer. “I mean -- yeah, kinda’. ‘M meetin’ y’family,” he explains, and you grin in response. “What? Scared they’re gonna’ figure out ‘s all fake?” You see his expression drop as soon as you ask the question, and he shifts until you’ve got no choice but to sit up straight, and he lets your hand go. You’d give anything to rewind ten seconds and not say that. It was so dumb and mindless, and you can’t believe you actually said it outloud, given all that’s happened -- how honest Harry has been, even if you run from him every single time. “Harry -- I,” you start, and he shakes his head as he turns to look out the window. “’S fine. ‘S fake, right? Nothin’ to worry about,” he says after he cuts you off, and he doesn’t sound bitter or angry, just sad. It makes your heart hurt because it’s your fault. It’s all you can think of the rest of the flight, no matter how hard you try not to.

It’s been around two hours since you got home from the airport, but you’re alone with Harry for the first time since this morning in his car. Between the flight and visiting with your family when you first got here, you haven’t had time to talk about what happened on the plane. Then again, you two sort of have a trend of not talking about things, so you shouldn’t be surprised, honestly. You’re standing in the middle of your childhood bedroom and he’s sat in your desk chair, scrolling through his phone when you decide to bring it up. Except you more so just jump right into apologizing.

“I’m sorry,” he glances up at you and shakes his head at your sudden words, his tongue poking out to wet the pout on his lips. “Don’t be,” he replies, and you sigh, taking a seat on the edge of your bed as you watch him. “I am, though -- I didn’t mean to upset you,” you feel defeated no matter how hard you really are trying, because Harry’s just not having it. “Didn’t mean to, but ya’ did. ‘M a big boy, though. ‘Ll be okay. Don’t need m’fake girlfriend t’baby me,” this time his voice does sound bitter, and the slightest bit angry, and you want to lock yourself in a room and never come out again at the emphasis on ‘fake.’ “Harry, stop,” and he’s locking his phone and setting it on the desk in front of him. “I told you -- I’m fine, Y/N. Leave it alone. We’re good.” You don’t think he’s called you by your actual name since the first week he met you.

He does seem to be okay, though, because he’s holding actual conversations with you when you head back downstairs to be with your family. You don’t ask anymore questions. You just go along with it and hope that it’s not going to change as soon as you’re behind closed doors again. Whatever issues the two of you have seem to be the last thing on Harry’s mind, and you’re almost certain it has to have something to do with the fact that your entire family seems to be falling in love with him and all his wit and charm. Your mom and grandma can’t stop gushing over him, asking him questions about his life and his family. He tells them that he’s an art major with a minor in women’s studies (they both flash a smile at you at that), that he grew up in England, and moved to the states when he was nineteen for university. He tells them that he has a sister and she’s his favorite person besides you, his mum, and Stevie Nicks. They ask about his future, where he sees himself by the time he’s thirty, and he pauses for a long moment to just watch you where you’re sat on the ground playing with one of your nieces. “Think -- I dunno’. Think ‘s gonna’ be good, though. Really good,” he says, and he doesn’t look back to your grandma until he’s finished the sentence and is smiling like an idiot.

Your two nieces and nephew have Harry in the floor next, and he’s laying on his back, grabbing their hands and pushing them up in the air with his socked feet when they lean forward, and shouting that they’re airplanes, and he’s laughing loudly as he does it probably twenty times to each of them. “He’s a keeper, y’know,” and your eyes snap from Harry to your grandma, and a small grin you just can’t help tugging at your lips. “Can see how in love with you he is just by the way he looks at you,” she explains, and you feel a blush creep up your neck, a nervous laugh sounding from you. You don’t realize Harry was definitely listening until you see him peeking up at you with a fond smile.

The sun is just a couple of hours from setting when you find yourself helping your mom out in the kitchen while Harry helps your dad with the grill out on the patio. You can see him through the French doors as you work through each task your mom assigns you, and it makes you smile to see them talking and laughing together. Your mom catches you, and she smirks. “Think your grandmother might’ve been onto somethin’ earlier. You seem just as lovestruck as Harry does,” she tells you, and you blush furiously, shaking your head. “Oh c’mon, Y/N. Never seen you look at anyone in y’life the way you look at that boy,” she adds, and you roll your eyes. “Whatever you say,” you sing-song back at her, but it doesn’t stop the way you’re grinning from ear to ear as you coat the berries she told you were going to be used to decorate a cake in sugar. It’s the only thing you’ve got left on your to-do list, so she’s left you to finish up in the kitchen alone.

You don’t hear the door open, but you guess that was sort of the point when you feel someone slink up behind you and wrap their arms around your waist, you half scream and half squeal, because it scares you but you almost instantly realize whose arms around you. “What’re ya’ makin’?” Harry murmurs, his chin hooked over your shoulder, and you hum, glancing back at him over your shoulder. “’S already been made, just gotta’ decorate it. Like a star, I think,” you explain, giving the blueberries one last stir before you turn around in his arms to face him. “You scared me,” you murmur, looking his face over. He smells like smoke, charcoal, and burgers, and it’s disgusting, but you can think of a million things you’d let happen before you ever let go of him right now. “That was the point, pet,” he smirks, and you let your mind wander for a moment. What if he’s only got you pinned up against the counter right now for show? What if he’s still just as angry as he was earlier and has every intention of giving you the cold shoulder when everyone goes to bed tonight. You’re working yourself into a bit of a frenzy of over thinking, so you decide it’s best if you distract yourself. “Wanna’ help me?” Harry presses a kiss to your forehead and you take that as a ‘yes.’

“Your father is terrifying,” he tells you once he’s stood beside you, and you smirk, looking up to him. “Told me exactly how he’d kill me ‘f I ever break your heart,” he explains, and you laugh, nudging your hip against his. “Told you he’d chop you up and dump you in the ocean, didn’t he? He watches a lot of Dexter,” you’re both laughing, and this suddenly really does not feel fake anymore, and it makes you wonder if it really ever had. “Tell me what y’need me to do,” he says after you’ve both stopped laughing, looking you over, and in your mind you’re screaming ‘kiss me again,’ but in reality you tell him you’ve got to line the blueberries up perfectly to create a star on top, and then fill in the gaps with the strawberries. He nods and then gets to work.

The two of you joke and work between comfortable silences with no problem -- it’s just like being back at work in the café. Between the two of you, you finish in record time and you reach for one of the leftover strawberry slices as you turn to him. “Got m’fingers all sticky,” he murmurs, watching as you swallow down the strawberry and you grin mischievously as you take a step towards him, reaching for his wrist and guiding his fingers up until you feel a couple brush against your lower lip, looking up to him from under your eyelashes. You think you could cut the tension that has suddenly filled the room with a knife. “There’s a sink right there,” is what you say, your tongue flicking against his middle finger playfully, and Harry can breathe for the first time since you looked at him after he spoke after you let him go. “Fuckin’ tease,” he jokes, walking towards the sink to wash his hands and you lean back against the counter.

When he turns around, Harry looks like he can’t breathe again, because you’re sucking your own fingers clean of the juice from the berries and sugar. He should not be as affected as he is, but he undeniably is, and he’s got a hand on your hip before you know it, his thumb slipping up underneath your t-shirt and rubbing at the skin just above the waist of your jeans. “Need something else from you,” you tell him, and he raises his eyebrows, waiting for your next set of instructions as he stares down at you. “Wha’s that?” He questions, and you place your hands on his chest. “Need y’to kiss me,” you whisper, and he brings a hand up to pinch your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up towards him. “Not ‘f we’re jus’ gonna’ pretend it never happened again,” he nearly mumbles, and you do your best to shake your head. “Wouldn’t -- don’t wan’ t’do that anymore.” He glances down to your lips and back up to your eyes. “’S not fake then?” He presses, and you shake your head again, dragging your hands from his chest to his shoulders. “Don’t think it ever was, honestly.”

He’s kissing you after that, soft and gentle, and it doesn’t feel nearly as rushed as your previous kisses have been. It’s clean enough that if someone were to glance into the kitchen, they wouldn’t have anything to say about it, but it’s also very much Harry who is kissing you like this, and that fact alone is enough to cloud your senses. You’re smiling into the kiss out of nowhere and he pulls back just enough to speak. “Wha’ is it?” He questions, and you peck his lips. “We’re so dumb,” you laugh, and he scrunches his nose. “Nah -- told you I wanted t’be your boyfriend at the very start. Never said anything about being ‘fake.’ You’re the only dumb one in this situation, baby,” and you can’t even argue with him, because he is technically right. He never told you he’d be your fake boyfriend. Those words never came out of his mouth. It makes you wonder if he knew that this was how it was going to end all along.

“You called me ‘baby,’“ you whisper, and he slides his hand to cup your cheek as he nudges his nose against yours. “Did, didn’t I?” He’s never called you that, is the thing. He’s called you every pet name in the book over the past six or so months, every single goddamn one that you could possibly think of, but he’s never called you ‘baby’ before now. “Wanted t’wait ‘til I made y’mine before I used that one on ya’,” he says and the statement gives you butterflies, because he’s intended for this to happen the entire time he’s known you. He’s never been joking, not once, about how he feels about you.

If anyone notices that the two of you are even more chipper the rest of the night, they don’t mention it.

The Fourth of July is your new favorite holiday.

It’s always been up there, but after a night of lots of food, fireworks, a zillion pictures (half of which are of you and Harry kissing underneath them), and time well spent with your family, you think it’s moved its way up to being your number one. You decide this while you’re flicking through the pictures on your phone while Harry helps your father with a bit of clean up downstairs. There are a million, probably, of you and Harry, you and Harry with various family members, quite a few you’d snapped of just Harry, and you can’t get over how Harry shines so bright beside you in the ones with the fireworks that you almost don’t even realize the fireworks are there.

You practically have to force yourself to stop looking at pictures and set your phone down, so that you can shower before Harry comes up for the night, but you manage to do so. You also have to force yourself to shower quickly when you realize you’ve stripped outside of your en suite and forgotten to grab a t-shirt from your duffle. Which you do, deciding dry shampoo can get you through until tomorrow morning and only washing what is absolutely necessary for any shower. You never heard him come in, so after you’ve dried off and slid into the underwear that you did remember to bring, you assume it’s safe for you to step out topless just long enough to get to the other side of the room to you overnight bag.

That assumption turns out to be very wrong. You are not safe. Not at all. In fact, when you step out, Harry’s standing about three feet away from the bathroom door, facing you, and his eyes go wide. You must look as if you’re properly trying to seduce him, and you weren’t at all -- not in your parents’ house -- but your hair looks as if it’s just recently been styled (and it has, thanks to the aforementioned dry shampoo) and the only piece of clothing (and you use that word lightly) you’ve got on is a baby pink lace thong. You can’t get mad at him when you see him definitely give you a once over, but you also bring your hands up to cover your breasts, cupping each of them. “Ya’ tryin’ t’seduce me, baby?” He finally says after the initial shock of it all, and he’s smirking, because he’s Harry, and of course he’s fucking smirking. “Didn’t have t’walk out naked t’get me t’fuck ya’, y’know. Told you weeks ago ‘s all I’ve been thinkin’ about,” he continues, and you feel like dying right then and there (but also very much like dropping to your knees and sucking his cock until he’s cumming down your throat) (he’s so hot) (it’s not fair).

You consider telling him that yes, you were just trying to seduce him, but the truth is what comes out of your mouth inside. “Forgot my shirt out here when I went to shower. Didn’t hear you come in, so I thought it’d be alright,” you explain and he nods like he understands perfectly, like maybe he’s been in the exact same situation before. He’s holding up a singular finger as if to tell you ‘hold on’ not a second later, and you watch him, your hands still covering your tits, and you realize he’s grabbing for a t-shirt from his own bag. He tosses it to you, and you cover yourself with it as soon as you’ve got it in your hands, because you remember that’s just given him another glimpse at your perky breasts. It’s when you go to tug it over your head that he stops you. “No, no, no -- what d’ya’ think you’re doing, hm?” You’re confused, but he’s pulling his own shirt over his head after that, dropping it to the floor. “Gotta’ earn it, baby girl,” he says, and you press your thighs together.

“Owe you for leaving you hard the other night, don’t I?” You murmur, because you can play this game, too. You take a step towards him, letting the shirt fall to the ground with the one he had been wearing, and palming over his hardening cock through his jeans. You watch your hand on him for awhile, feeling him growing harder under your touch, and your best guess is that he was watching, too, because as soon as you look up to him, he’s got you moaning into a kiss. The two of you end up on the bed behind him similarly to the way you had ended up on his couch the first night, after that, except this time, he’s underneath you and you’re situated so that you’re straddling his hips and grinding right on top of his cock. He’s got a hand fisted in your hair and the other is sliding down to your ass, grinning into the kiss at the feel of bare skin against his own.

You manage to get a hand between the two of you and pop the button on his jeans, and really, you’re not sure why these godforsaken things weren’t his clothing item of choice to remove before you fell into bed together, because they’re so tight, and all you want is his cock out now. You manage to finally get the jeans, along with his burgundy boxer briefs, down his toned legs, though, and then you’re straddling him again. His cock is gorgeous, and you feel silly for even thinking it, but it is -- it’s long and thick and it’s got the prettiest head that matches his lips in colors. You really do want to suck it, so you tell him as much as you wrap a hand around the base of him and work over him in strokes that are good, but not near enough to ever give him what he needs. “Jesus fuck,” he curses in response to your request, and you take that as your go ahead. You’re lying on the bed between his legs when you lean down and give the leaking tip the first tentative kitten lick, glancing up to make eye contact with him as you do. You collect the precum on your tongue in doing so, and swallow it down before you lick along the length of him, just getting him wet, before you bring your lips back up to wrap around the head and suck properly at it, dipping your tongue into the slit.

He’s got his hand fisted in your hair once again, but this time it’s to help guide you along his cock, and he finds that you take direction very well, as it turns out. You’re working your mouth over his cock slowly, sinking down until he’s hitting the back of your throat, and you swallow around him. Harry moans and tugs your hair harshly, watching as you drag your tongue along the thick vein on the underside of his cock when you pull off. “Got such a lovely mouth, baby. So good f’me,” he breathes, and you just flash him an innocent sort of smile before you’ve got your mouth back on him, and you press your tongue against the sensitive spot at his base when you swallow him back down. You feel the way his cock hit the back of your throat a bit when he begins rocking his hips up into the feeling, and you can’t help but moan around him, and that only causes a groan to escape him in response. “Take m’cock so well, baby girl,” he murmurs, and you let your eyes find his once again.

He leans up just a moment later, and you’ve got your lips wrapped tight around his shaft when you feel him sliding your panties to the side and sliding his fingers between your folds. “Fuckin’ soaked, love. Jus’ from suckin’ my cock?” He questions, and you suck a bit harder and hopes he gets the message that it is most definitely just from sucking his cock. “Tha’s a good girl,” he breathe, and then he presses a finger against your entrance, and you rock back against the touch. “Eager,” he murmurs, glancing down to your head in his lap, and placing a hand on the back of your neck as he lets two fingers slide inside of your cunt, fucking them into you slowly, and you clench around the feeling of them. “So fuckin’ tight, love. Can’t wait to feel ya’ on m’cock. Y’gonna’ give that t’me, hm? Le’ me make you cum on m’cock? Fill up your pretty little cunt?” You can’t believe the filth that seems to spew from his lips so easily, but you’re certain that you’ve never been wetter than you are right now, either.

You’re pulling off of his cock after a minute or two later, and his fingers are so nice inside of you, but god -- you want to be stretched and filled and fucked until you can’t fucking move, so you decide you’re going to need his cock for that. “Need you,” you breathe, and your voice is wrecked from taking him as far as you had, but he seems to understand you just fine, because he withdraws his fingers from you not a moment later. He’s tugging you up until you’re straddling him again, and you press your lips to his as you lean down, grinding down against his cock, and thanking any higher power listening that you’ve decided to don the prettiest, tiniest lace thong he’s ever seen tonight, because when he wraps a hand around his cock, he gets to watch as you simply pull the fabric to the side just before you line him up. Your wet is practically dripping down his cock as you hover over him, the head of him pressed to your entrance. You lean down to kiss him again as you sink down, and both your moans get lost somewhere on your tongues.

The stretch of him isn’t something you think you could have prepared yourself for no matter how long you had taken to hype yourself up. It burns at first, but the longer he’s inside of you, the nicer it feels. He’s is by far the biggest you’ve ever had, you’ve got no doubt about it, and you suppose it would only make sense for this gorgeous boy underneath you to have an equally glorious dick buried to the hilt inside of you. “Feel so good,” you breathe, rocking your hips just a bit, just feeling the length of him inside of you, filling you up better than anyone ever has. When you pull off until it’s just the head of him, you swear you can feel the way every ridged part of his cock drags against your walls and you moan loudly against Harry’s mouth. “Gotta’ stay quiet, love,” he tells you, and you just kiss him in response, grinding on his cock with your eyes screwed shut. “Be good f’me, ‘nd I promise as soon as we get home, ‘ll take y’on every surface ‘f my apartment ‘nd y’can be as loud as y’want,” he murmurs, and you do your best to nod, but you want to cry because he just feels so good inside of you.

You begin to really ride him after that promise, pulling off of him until it’s just the tip of his cock inside of you, and you drop back down in quick motions. You’re building a harsh rhythm, and you can feel where the short wiry hairs around his cock are brushing against your clit each time he presses his hips up into you, and it has you kissing him just that much harder to try and keep quiet. “Look a’ you, angel. Look so pretty fuckin’ y’self on m’cock,” he’s whispering as he speaks, watching you as you fuck down against him, and it makes you cup one of your tits again, your other hand steadying yourself on his chest, and he fucks up into you for the first time when he see the way you’re squeezing your breast, his fingers hooked into the waistband of your lace panties. The only bad thing about lace panties, however, is how incredibly easy they are to rip, and Harry does just that. You’re not sure if it’s on purpose or not, but you also couldn’t give less of a fuck, either. You’ve got more, and you assume he agrees with your thought process, because he’s the one who collects them and tosses them to the floor. You look sort of perfect, he thinks -- doesn’t think he’s ever had a better view than the one he’s got right now. You’re tight, wet, and hot around his bare cock, and his own reminder of that has him twitching inside of you, and it makes your clit throb. “Harry, Harry -- fuck me,” you whine, and he’s never been the kind of guy that has to be told twice.

You’re both so close, and it doesn’t surprise you. You hadn’t expected either of you to last this long, considering how inevitable this has been since the beginning, but as soon as Harry flips you over so you’re on you’re back, you know you’re fucked -- figuratively and literally. He’s driving into you with force, and you open your mouth to scream, but nothing comes out (thankfully). He uses the opportunity to his advantage, however. He’s got two fingers pressed to your tongue, and you waste no time and sucking them just as you had his cock just minutes before. The sight seems to do more for him than he’d expected because he groans as soon as you wrap your lips around the digits, and he fucks into you harder. He feels you clench around him, and he bites his lip at the feeling. “Gonna’ cum, baby?” He murmurs, and you try and fail to nod, but it’s enough for him to get it, and he’s so smug about it, despite the fact that he’s just holding out to feel you cum around his cock before he lets go. “Cum f’me, baby girl. Cum on m’cock,” he breathes, and he removes his fingers from your mouth to press against your clit instead, rubbing quickly. You don’t last another minute before you’ve drenched your thighs with your release.

You dig your nails into his back as your cunt pulses around his cock, biting at his shoulder to keep from crying out the way you want to, and you think it’s the way your teeth dig into his skin that does him in, because you feel hot spurts of his release covering your walls and filling you up so suddenly that it makes you shake against him just a second or two longer.

Harry doesn’t pull out for what seems like forever, but when he does, you can feel how sore you already are, but it’s the best kind of sore in the world. You whine and clench around nothing, and you still feel so fucking wet, despite just having the best orgasm of your life probably. You realize why that is when you see Harry looking between your legs, and you’re quick to close them, feeling overexposed, but he taps your hip, his head resting on your thigh as he peers up at you. “No, baby, lemme’ see, please,” He asks, and it comes out in such a gentle voice that you think you’d do anything he told you to do right then. You do spread your legs back open, and he watches as his release drips out of your cunt, and he seems fucking fascinated, and it makes you blush down to your chest. He stays put where he’s resting against your thigh for minutes probably, just watching. “’S gorgeous,” he murmurs, just before he leans in to press an open mouthed kiss your clit -- you gasp, he smirks. He’s kissing his way back up your body a minute later, and your entire body feels like it’s been put into overdrive and all of your senses are heightened right now. It’s as if you’re torn with wanting him all over you and wanting to push him off of you. You decide to go with the first one.

“Wanna’ know somethin’?” He questions once he’s reached your lips, grinning down at you. You hum in response, running your fingers through his hair. “I do,” you answer, grinning right back up at him. “Think ya’ earned privileges t’any shirt ‘f mine y’ever wanna wear.” You laugh into it when he kisses you again.

The next week at work, you tell Harry you love him by writing it on one of the to-go cups. He nearly gets you both fired when he kisses you breathless at the cash register (by the way, he loves you, too).

#harry smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry fic #harry styles oneshot #mw #:D #here u go sisters #i want harry to ruin me :(

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apocalypto12related · 7 years

Note

Do all of them!

1: is there a boy/girl in your life?

Ye! Sammy! @deziac

2: think of the last person who hurt you; do you forgive them?

Um... My family, probably, and no.

3: what do you think of when you hear the word “meow?”

Kitty! I love kitties!

4: what’s something you really want right now?

an apartment. on a less serious side, um, glasses???

5: are you afraid of falling in love?

Nope! I already have and since we’re poly im sure i will again owo

6: do you like the beach?

so/so. depends on my mood.

7: have you ever slept on a couch with someone else?

um... a pull out sofa, does that count? i have a hard time sleeping unless i can fully lie down.

8: what’s the background on your cell?

my old phone was tony my new phone is space. not sure what it’ll be soon. >w>;; considering i need to redownload all the stuff i got off tumblr. :’( i lost all my snapchat stuff, but i moved all of izaya to my computer so that’s fine.

9: name the last four beds you were sat on?

what??? O_o; um... a homeless shelter’s bed and other than that they were all my own??? (not counting the “bed” made of sheets at the one place.)

10: do you like your phone?

i just got a new one!! uwu It has 32GB with it’s own internal storage and I have a 32GB sd card. nwn;; So I have a lot of space~! plus it has a fingerprint sensor and im in love with unlocking it like that owo

11: honestly, are things going the way you planned?

prolly not, but when do they?

12: who was the last person whose phone number you added to your contacts?

sammy! bc we both got new phhones!

13: would you rather have a poodle or a rottweiler?

i heard poodles have bad temperaments!! idk about rottweilers!! whichever one is nicer??/

14: which hurts the most, physical or emotional pain?

emotional!! physical heals!! short time span for pain! emotional might not go away!

15: would you rather visit a zoo or an art museum?

DONt mmake me chosoelk??! i love both!!! i lovemy fluffy butts and i went to the met in new york!!! it was so cool!!! swords!! armor!! egypt!! aahhhh!!! i cant choose!!

16: are you tired?

im always tired!!!

17: how long have you known your 1st phone contact?

um... well it’s sammy

so uh, ten years in march owo (technically december was the first time we met!! but we count it as march since that’s when he started talking rly)

18: are they a relative?

no!!

19: would you ever consider getting back together with any of your exes?

it depends on if they changed their personality!! if not then no!! i mean i did get back with sammy but yknow we just count that as a break since we did actually get back together lmao

20: when did you last talk to the last person you shared a kiss with?

this morning!! she is at work so she’s not too talkative rn!

21: if you knew you had the right person, would you marry them today?

we’re fine with what we’re at!! i don’t need to marry her to make it ‘official’!! we’ve lasted almost 9 years and through some big hardships!! both of us unmedicated and dealing with new medication changes, so i think we’re fine!!

22: would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

of course!! :P

23: how many bracelets do you have on your wrists right now?

two!! my blue sylveon bracelet (i love sylveon, i would wear umbreon but i think i packed it!!!) and my pride rainbow bracelet! i took them off when we were looking for a shelter bc i was scared we’d get denied if they saw obvious gay signs :(

24: is there a certain quote you live by?

not directly!! something along the lines of that there is no set path in life you have to choose which ways you want to twist and turn and they’ll lead you onto new and bigger things.

25: what’s on your mind?

music! stuff for my phone! i have a lot of stuff i need to add to eeet!! it’s only a day oolllddd.

26: do you have any tattoos?

yes! it’s for my kitty who passed away! Her name was luna. I’m sure i’ve posted a picture somewhere.

27: what is your favorite color?

#00C5FF

28: next time you will kiss someone on the lips?

prolly tonight. owo

29: who are you texting?

Sammy owo

30: think to the last person you kissed, have you ever kissed them on a couch?

probably?? lol what.

31: have you ever had the feeling something bad was going to happen and you were right?

YES ACTUALLY D: idk if it happened any other time, but when we got into the car accident when I told our one friend we were joking about her coming up and hanging with us all my brain said was ‘You shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have done that.’ and again when we went out to the car and it was pretty heavy snow fall. I was like ‘I shouldn’t go.’ my problem with that one was I didn’t want to go, but I didn’t think ‘we shouldn’t go’. but... what can you do now?

32: do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to?

um. i don’t think i have a super close opposite sex friend. closest would probably be @h0bsyrup

33: do you think anyone has feelings for you?

I’m sure Sammy does. >w> I’m not sure otherwise. My followers don’t tell me that stuff.

34: has anyone ever told you you have pretty eyes?

Yes omg. Sammy was staring me in the eyes the other day and was like ‘your eyes are pretty’ and i’m like ‘omfg shut up >//

35: say the last person you kissed was kissing someone right in front of you?

if they’re not dating then she’s gonna punch their lights out, so i don’t have to worry.

36: were you single on valentines day?

November 24th, 2008 is when I started dating Sammy. You tell me.

37: are you friends with the last person you kissed?

... of course?? wtf is with these kiss questions.

38: what do your friends call you?

Kiki :D

39: has anyone upset you in the last week?

lil bit.

40: have you ever cried over a text?

Um... probably. I can’t remember.

41: where’s your last bruise located?

omg... um i guess undermy belly button is the latest bruise??? i have a lot atm from surgery and being motionless for four days!!

42: what is it from?

Sammy actually like harshly pushed on that area. like when you go to land somewhere with your full weight then you go ‘oh fuck’ yeah.

43: last time you wanted to be away from somewhere really bad?

um... recently??? but i guess not as bad as with my mom.

44: who was the last person you were on the phone with?

Sammy owo

45: do you have a favourite pair of shoes?

Nah.

46: do you wear hats if your having a bad hair day?

No.my hair style is like 99% bun.

47: would you ever go bald if it was the style?

i dont follow trends i set them.

48: do you make supper for your family?

not recently but i would for sammy and i usually

49: does your bedroom have a door?

i don’t have a “bedroom” atm e.e

50: top 3 web-pages?

tambo.c0m (tumblr), archiveofourown.org (ao3), youtube.com (the three i use the most anyway)

51: do you know anyone who hates shopping?

Sammy. xD at least food shopping.

52: does anything on your body hurt?

Abdomen. (:

53: are goodbyes hard for you?

it depends. if it’s unnecessary then prolly. if they’ve fucked me over idc. (i.e. my family trying to replace my mom’s abusiveness, fuck them.)

54: what was the last beverage you spilled on yourself?

prolly water owo

55: how is your hair?

it’s feeling fine, thank you for asking!

56: what do you usually do first in the morning?

it depends! if it’s my “morning” i wake up and usually bathroom.

57: do you think two people can last forever?

sure but it takes work. it’s not gonna be perfect 24/7 without communication or compromise.

58: think back to january 2007, were you single?

ye. omfg why would you give me nightmares. that’s when i started the rping side of myspce and met that douche wesley. his lying ass made me start self harming. fuck him.

59: green or purple grapes?

i don’t eat grapes .w.;;

60: when’s the next time you will give someone a big hug?

sometime in the future! prolly sammy!

61: do you wish you were somewhere else right now?

in an apartment. >w> or at the pompeii exhibit!!!

62: when will be the next time you text someone?

possibly today

63: where will you be 5 hours from now?

lying in bed. :D

64: what were you doing at 8 this morning.

struggling to be alive. (eating chocolate chip muffins)

65: this time last year, can you remember who you liked?

oh god. w8 no. i didn’t like anyone yet. that started like october or shit. ugh my ex. he became an ass. (aside from sammy obvs)

66: is there one person in your life that can always make you smile?

sammy!!

67: did you kiss or hug anyone today?

um... i don’t think so. i think we were both too tired and stressed. we didn’t get into bed until like 1 and the shelter has us be out of beds by 8:30 x3x;

68: what was your last thought before you went to bed last night?

um... ‘i should go back to sleep’ after waking up a third time and distracting myself with the phone

69: have you ever tried your hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end?

yeah,but at least i tried.

70: how many windows are open on your computer?

it’s not *my* computer, so it doesn’t count! ;D (8 but im downloading music stfu)

71: how many fingers do you have?

i have 10. my one pinky counts as a half finger sometimes though. i broke it and bc i didnt have insurance i never went to a doctor to get it fully take care of so it healed up all wrong.

72: what is your ringtone?

default at the moment!

73: how old will you be in 5 months?

oh fuck i’ll be 24. man if you asked me that back in june i’d be like ‘still 23 (;’ but no. my bday is december

74: where is your mum right now?

She passed away. :/

75: why aren’t you with the person you were first in love with or almost in love?

I realize that as much as I wanted to believe it was love, it never fully blossomed into that until I was with Sammy. I don’t think I’ve truly ever gotten to love anyone else, but that’s okay.

76: have you held hands with somebody in the past three days?

of course owo sammy and i are hella gay don’t u know.

77: are you friends with the people you were friends with two years ago?

i believe so owo we just don’t talk as much bc im a lazy sack of shit.

78: do you remember who you had a crush on in year 7?

fuck. i think i had a minor crush on some dude who also liked green day but never fuckin talked to me so i never bothered. that might’ve also technically been when i started liking wesley. does billie joe from green day count?

79: is there anyone you know with the name mike?

personally? uh.... i’m not totally sure o-o; fuck me man.

80: have you ever fallen asleep in someones arms?

probably wait yes. sammy. spooning is our fave position.

81: how many people have you liked in the past three months?

e.e no one that wasn’t a celebrity.

82: has anyone seen you in your underwear in the last 3 days?

no bc shelter e.e

83: will you talk to the person you like tonight?

:P i talk to them everyday.

84: you’re drunk and yelling at hot guys/girls out of your car window, you’re with?

i wouldn’t get drunk! i wouldn’t scream at ppl! that’s rude! ppl usually can’t even hear you when you yell at the window! we hear ‘whoosh’ with your voice in the middle’

85: if your bf/gf was into drugs would you care?

i would be concerned since she’s said she doesn’t like them!!

86: what was the most eventful thing that happened last time you went to see a movie?

um... oh! a conversation started and a lil girl asked if we were in a certain theatre and I said ‘no we were in theatre blah’ so I asked what they went and saw. She said “Wonder Woman” “hey we just came out of that, too!” :P

87: who was your last received call from?

.3.; sammy

88: if someone gave you $1,000 to burn a butterfly over a candle, would you?

i-i’m torn??? i needm oney but poor butter-san... ;____;

89: what is something you wish you had more of?

money. clothes maybe

90: have you ever trusted someone too much?

yeah. lmao.

91: do you sleep with your window open?

i usually do! esp in the winter/summer! need air and love cold!

92: do you get along with girls?

ye!

93: are you keeping a secret from someone who needs to know the truth?

no. owo

94: does sex mean love?

no! sex is something that can bring someone closer, but it is not necessary for a relationship!

95: you’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, is that a problem?

>3>;;; again, no.

96: have you ever kissed anyone with a lip ring?

owo; indirectly. i shared a drink with someone who had one. xD

97: did you sleep alone this week?

not this week! :D last week. ;~; at the hospital.

98: everybody has somebody that makes them happy, do you?

yes. >3>

99: do you believe in love at first sight?

no!!! that’s not love!! you might end up loving them but you can’t love someone unless you know them!! :c otherwise it’ll lead to some bad decisions!! D:

100: who was the last person that you pinky promise?

OwO Sammy I think.

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mistake-memessenger · 7 years

Note

Hello! May i request for How would RFA+Saeran and V react to an MC saving them from being hit by a car or taking a bullet for them! hahah Can be angsty or not :3 Thank you sooo much! love your blog :)

listen…… u come into my house.. and you ask this thing of me.… (ʘ‿ʘ✿)

also i wrote these baaaasically in reverse order? and kind of definitely ran out of steam for the rest,, ha, ,,, ,, haha ha , ,,

but i figured……. some content is better than no content at all!!

WARNINGS for blood, injury, violence, near-death, possible death……… mebbe spoileroonies if u haven’t finished the secret endings.. oh and also Rika..is there for one…. briefly…

Jumin

-powerful men like Jumin Han will always have enemies-some are merely industry rivals who might bitch and moan and briefly fantasize about the assassination of such a man, but ultimately do noting but continue to compete, to vie for a presence in their fields-and some are far more criminal in nature, and willing to do anything to get what they want-and they don’t care who gets in their way-Jumin is giving a press conference about a recent acquisition of yet another company into C&R’s fold-MC is standing nearby, trying to keep from beaming, they’re so proud of their husband-and they can’t keep their eyes off of him-which is exactly why when a little red dot appears on him, on his red tie, they see it and are briefly annoyed-whICH MOTHERFRICKER BROUGHT A LASER POINTER TO THIS??????-but then as the little light moves minutely a cold dread settles in MC’s stomach-the laser point is too still, and it’s red on on red, difficult to see-MC’s heart beats a frantic rhythm and they can taste the tang of fear on the back of their tongue-they glance up away from Jumin to the high buildings opposite the stage that’s been erected specifically for this event-the moment feels like it takes an entire year-but they see a flash of light, something glinting off of shiny metal-it feels both unreal and terrifying-powerful men like Jumin Han will always have enemies-there are bodyguards around but they’re all facing the crowd of reporters, not Jumin-they don’t see it-they don’t see the light go completely still, like the shooter has finally decided on a good spot-MC shouts-and moves-Jumin’s speech cuts off mid-word and his eyes are now on MC-they both hit the ground but he hears MC take in a choked breath, he could hear and see the pain-what-what just.. happened?-he wonders-he can hear the gasps from the crowd, his security guards trying to keep the crowd back and get them to safety as others approach him and MC-MC, who can’t seem to take in a proper breath-Jumin calls their name as he sits the both of them back up-their breathing sounds…. wet, raspy-and Jumin can only get increasingly more worried as he comes to conclusions-MC coughs and flecks of blood hit his pristine white shirt, and blend on his red tie-he feels like his heart has stopped-and he notes that the back of MC’s shirt is wet, and so are his hands-he starts to shout orders-Find the shooter-Get an ambulance-Round up the reporters for statements-No one is allowed to leave-bodyguards are surrounding the two, keeping them out of view-Jumin can see that MC is fading p fast, about to pass out-so he places his hands (bloody, a terrible idea, but it’s too late now) on their face, cupping their cheeks and jaw-he implores them to stay with him-his hands shake-his voice shakes-he is so, so scared-what if he loses them?-but they smile at him, and they weakly raise their hands to touch his-“I don’t regret a thing, Jumin,” they tell him between shallow, rasping breaths-he wishes they hadn’t said that-it sounds like last words-and he is desperate to make sure they aren’t

Seven

-he loves cars-so the day that MC ends up pushing him out of the way of an incoming sports car and getting hit themself. ..-to say he can’t look at his own cars, his babies, the same way again is not unfair-and to say that he’s devastated is kind of an understatement-he looks on from only yards away at where MC has landed in a crumpled heap-his ass is on the pavement and relatively unharmed while MC…… .-fuck he’s pretty sure limbs don’t bend that way-they’re not supposed to look like that-it starts out with an alarming sense of numbness, a feeling like this isn’t real-Saeyoung gets to his feet, vaguely registers that his arm is bleeding from scraping the pavement when he landed, and that the owner of the car that just hit the love of his life is already out of their car and frantically calling emergency services-“MC?” Saeyoung calls out as he approaches, but his own voice sounds distant to him-dread builds rapidly and settles uneasily in Saeyoung’s gut the closer he gets-his chest feels tighter and tighter and he can’t take deep breaths-he feels sick-but then he sees MC’s chest rise and fall-and sounds come rushing into clarity for Saeyoung once more-he can hear the driver that hit MC speaking over the phone-he can hear other people gathering and muttering and exclaiming and the sounds of car doors opening and closing-he can hear MC whimpering, saying his name-Saeyoung is in front of them in an instant, on his knees and reaching for their grasping hand, the one on the arm that, thankfully, isn’t broken-“Saeyoung.. Saeyoung… . it hurts I can't– I can’t move, S-Saeyoung”-Saeyoung’s vision blurs with tears as he shushes MC, and his voice cracks repeatedly as he tries to reassure them and himself-“Shh, shh it’s, it’ll be okay, M-MC.. aahhh, shit, fuck, it’ll be okay I s-swear. ..”-in the hospital, waiting to hear any news is the worst-Saeyoung is so used to knowing just about everything that’s going on and being able to easily find out if he doesn’t-so this-the not knowing-is a new kind of agony-he doesn’t know how MC is doing and he can’t find out without getting in the way and what if– what if their condition is too dire? what if they’re dying right now?-he can’t stop his negative thoughts from spiraling, from getting worse and worse-he works himself up into a panic attack-MC could be dead and he wouldn’t know and he’s not sure……. how, or if, he could possibly keep going without them

Saeran

-a Mint Eye acolyte managed to escape capture the night everything ended-the night Mint Eye was dismantled-the night Paradise was lost-the night their savior was taken from them-and they are out for revenge-they’re convinced that Saeran was a rat. that it’s his fault his fault his fault he has to pay-they bided their time…. looking for Saeran, waiting for their moment to strike-but Saeran is never alone-and the acolyte gets. So. Frustrated.-they just go for it.-Saeran and MC are just out on a grocery run when it happens-they haven’t even made it to the store when the acolyte blocks their path-it’s late in the evening, at a time when MC knows there won’t be crowds since Saeran is pretty.. not. about crowds.-so this is uh weird-but Saeran recognizes the person blocking their path and is immediately on guard-MC can see that Saeran is tense and it takes them a moment to see that this person’s eyes are the same color as Saeran’s-that unnatural minty green-blue-fuck-except that “fuck” doesn’t even begin to cover it-the whole thing is kind of a blur,, ,-the acolyte charges Saeran (“TRAITOR!!! THE SAVIOR IS GONE BECAUSE OF YOU!!!!” they roar) and there’s a scuffle and MC tries to get this fucker off of Saeran but they pull a gun and there are no thoughts just action and MC-gets-in-the-way-and the acolyte is laughing as MC hits the ground-but it sounds more like gleeful shrieking-Saeran sees the blood blooming on the back of MC’s sweater and he sees the laughing acolyte-he fucking loses his shit-he’s yelling and crying as he takes the acolyte down and he slams their head onto the concrete once.-twice.-a third time for good measure.-they’re out.-maybe dead.-he doesn’t care-he turns frantic eyes to MC who is bleeding and groaning and crying and whimpering on the ground-fuck!-“Shit shit sHIT! MC!!” Saeran’s voice cracks in his panic-he kind of…. flutters around them, unsure-until he remembers that pressure needs to be applied to the wound to keep MC from bleeding to death-so he does that while also fumbling for his phone-he doesn’t even think to call for an ambulance his mind is so jumbled-he calls Saeyoung-the twins are panicking, though Saeyoung might be handling things a lil better-Saeyoung ends up remotely dispatching an ambulance to Saeran and MC’s location and then staying on the phone (Saeran puts him on speaker so he can use both hands and also so Saeyoung can talk to both him and MC)-while they’re waiting for the ambulance (are those sirens in the distance already??) Saeran is like-“MC why whatt he f u kc?? why did you do that why would you try to protect me like that???”-he’s so mad and scared and very very confused and his head hurts (and it’s so hard to breathe, his chest aches) and the only consolation he has right now is Saeyoung telling them that the ambulance is close-MC kind of grimaces while trying to smile (oh my god getting shot hurts so much?????? holy shit)-“must rly like u i guess?” they kind of joke but are also dead fuckin serious-MC now is not the time-Saeran stares at them in disbelief for a moment, then he’s crying just that much more earnestly-“you’re a fucking idiot”-he feels like. .. . he’s not worth MC’s time-he’s not worth their effort-he’s not worth their life-god he loathes himself already and now this?? the person he maybe possibly has a crush on (his head’s still a mess but his heart beats so fast when they’re around sometimes and every time they smile he wants to smile back and that, right there, feels like a miracle) just got fucking shot???-and it’s his fault, isn’t it?-that they’re hurt-that they’re bleeding-that they’re fucking crying too-(it should’ve been him, he thinks)

-it…….. happens like this:-V doesn’t die in the Secret Ending 01-MC sees the gun in Saeran’s hand, pointed at V-V who is blind and can’t possibly evade such an attack in time on his own (can’t see it coming, he doesn’t even know the immediate danger he’s in)-so they make their decision-and then they’re in front of V, arms spread out-and Saeran has already pulled the trigger before realizing what’s happened-in this moment there is…. a lot of screaming going on-Saeyoung. Rika. Vanderwood. even Saeran and V.-MC is bleeding. profusely. V can tell that much at least as they both sink to the ground, him supporting them and calling their name-but MC doesn’t respond, having gone limp in his arms-Rika is trying to give out orders but,, her voice is a lil lost in the cacophony of Saeyoung and Saeran yelling at each other and to MC -Vanderwood manages to get the gun away from Saeran in the commotion-Saeran is……. distraught for many reasons.. one of which being that he hadn’t intended to kill MC at all-he’d just wanted to take them to Paradise-things get louder when Jumin and his security team finally arrive-arrests are made. Mint Eye disciples and Rika and Saeran are subdued-Saeyoung and V and Vanderwood are shouting about getting MC (and Saeyoung) medical attention-V’s hand are red and his clothes are damp and sticky-MC’s blood is on his hands literally and metaphorically and he is horrified-his heart is aching, his hands are shaking, and it is all too much and he hates himself he hates himself-it’s so,, visceral a feeling-it’s hard to breathe-V clutches desperately at MC’s hand the entire helicopter ride to the hospital, hoping that they’ll wake up and clutch back-they don’t.-the blood on V’s clothes is dry by the time MC finally wakes up in the hospital-the first thing they notice after getting their bearings is that the room is probably too big for one person to be staying in, but that’s how it is-the second thing they notice is V asleep in a sofa chair, the kind that’s provided in rooms where the patient is long-term-the third thing is the sound of incoming footsteps-there’s a soft knock at the door before it opens-it’s Jumin with a bundle of what looks like clean clothes in his arms-V shifts in the chair, groggy but now awake-MC watches V stand and gingerly stretch as he turns toward the door-“Jumin?” V asks softly, as if afraid to wake MC-but Jumin isn’t looking at V, and has frozen halfway to the blind man-he redirects his course toward the hospital bed “MC. You’re awake.” he doesn’t shout but it’s a very near thing-V turns so fast he almost loses his footing-he stumbles in his haste to get to MC’s side-“MC!”-he does shout-he’s not wearing his shades so MC can see how wide open his eyes are-MC’s throat is dry so when they speak it comes out as a croak-“Hey, V. Jumin.”-but they are smiling-and V can hear it-and somehow that hurts him even more

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger headcanons #jumin han #saeyoung choi #saeran choi #jihyun kim #mm jumin #mm 707 #mm unknown #mm v

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encchantress · 7 years

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so this guide is going to be a very very basic overview of what it’s like to WORK AT DISNEY WORLD (pt. 1)! i have a somewhat in depth knowledge of the process and what it’s actually like to be working there because i worked there doing the college program for 5 months. this will be a v v basic overview though and maybe if i feel like it, i’ll do a college program version as well, but here it is!! please like or reblog if you found this helpful!!

AFTER YOU’RE HIRED!

i only know about how you get hired via the disney college program so i’m going to gloss over that, though i will say that for the dcp you apply online, have a web interview, then a phone interview and then you find out whether or not you join the cast!!

CASTING!!!! i know for the dcp we didn’t know what role we had and what location we were going to be at until we got there, but i can’t speak for normal disney cast members. all i know is that no matter what you’ll end up at the casting building at downtown disney to get your assignment and scan fingerprints and all that!!

TRADITIONS!!!! god i’m so lit just thinking about it. traditions is the day that you’re called in to learn all about the history of disney and hear a bunch of stories about how disney has touched the lives of so many. it’s business casual, and disney is VERY strict about this. i watched a girl take off her lipstick bc a cast member told her it was too bright. basically you go to disney university and you get told a bunch of heart-warming stuff, you do some trivia and earn some figurines if you answer correctly, and there’s a box sitting in the middle of your table the whole time which you aren’t allowed to open until the end. they take you to magic kingdom and they have you wear these headsets that don’t rly work and they take you backstage through the tunnels and up into some part of magic and you just like observe what’s going on and you learn about some of the neato things you only get to learn as a cast member. then you go back to Disney University and mickey mouse himself comes to give you your name tag. of course, at the end, you get to open the box and there’s your very own pair of mickey ears waiting inside. it’s honestly life changing.

okay, so after you have to go through this thing called operations. basically you go to DU and you’re split up into groups based on your role. your roles include:

food and beverage (quick service or full service)

retail (bibbidi bobbidi boutique/floral/merchandise/vacation planner)

entertainment (character performer/character attendant/costuming)

lodging (bell services/front desk/housekeeper)

recreation (children’s activities/lifeguard/recreation attractions)

operations (attractions/custodial/photopass)

and basically what you do in ops is you spend a full day taking a bunch of internet quizzes about personal safety, osha standards, and how to handle situations like unattended suspicious bags and lost children (although at disney they don’t say they’re lost children they say they have lost parents)

i’m gonna be honest, it’s real boring. like 90% of my day was spent trying not to fall asleep. but something else important to disney that you learn during ops are THE FOUR KEYS! The Four Keys are how Disney moderates how they’re doing as a business. The Four Keys are as followed:

SAFETY

COURTESY

EFFICIENCY

SHOW

you will get tested on these often.

**quick note about safety. disney’s slogan for being safe while on property is “SAFE-D BEGINS WITH ME!” every cast member makes so many dick jokes using that phrase. please do it it’s so funny.**

then once you’re done with ops you’re typically sent for costuming which i’ll get into a little bit later probably bc there’s not rly that much to say on it right now other than like, just do a quick google to find out what your character will be wearing for wherever they work.

STARTING WORK!

so depending on which park you’re assigned to work (note: you will not park hop unless you’re deployed or you pick up shifts. pick one park and stick to it.) you have an orientation day. each park has a cutesy name for it

DAKlimation (disney’s animal kingdom)

once upon a time (magic kingdom)

discovery day (epcot)

on with the show (hollywood studios)

this is basically a full day of walking around the parks, learning some of the secrets behind the theming and getting accustomed to the backstage areas. you also might ride a ride if you’re lucky (we rode kilimanjaro safaris at DAK). then you’ll start your on the job training. this can range from a week to two weeks depending and at the end of training you are tested on your knowledge of all the skills you learned during training. ((if anyone is interested in lifeguarding or quick service specifically pls don’t hesitate to ask!)) and through all this training you get to wear a cute little “earning my ears” sticker on your name tag!!

ROLES!!

honestly you can do a quick google about any of the roles above, but pls feel free to ask me questions too bc i know a lot about qsfb, lifeguarding, merch and character performer especially. i’m just going to highlight some common misconceptions (imo) below.

character performer: OKAY SO THIS IS WHERE I GET REAL NITPICKY!!! this paragraph is gonna be long so settle in. to be a character performer YOU HAVE TO GO TO AN AUDITION. and let me tell you, it is not easy. it is very likely that if you are a character performer you have auditioned a very good number of times bc disney is so specific in what they’re looking for. and character performer isn’t just someone in a costume or a lookalike. it extends to parades, shows, and even street performers like the citizens of hollywood in hollywood studios.

there are a few different types of auditions too. they have character performer auditions where they are just generally looking for performers, but they can pull you aside for lookalikes. in character performer auditions you do a parade dance that increases in difficulty the further you go along if you haven’t been cut. in lookalike auditions you literally go into a room in groups of 50 and smile at a man for like 5 seconds and then they cut based off of that. ((if anyone wants a more detailed guide on this i can do it bc i have auditioned for disney 5 times doing both kinds of auditions))

height ranges!!!! this is also a huge thing for me bc some of yall stay trying to play like a 5′7″ bitch as tinkerbell. disney is usually pretty good about sticking to particular height rangers for costumed and face characters.

most princesses are within the 5′4″-5′7″ range. alice and wendy are usually between 4′10″-5′2″. most costumed characters with the exclusion of most villains and goofy are between 4′11″-5′4″. 5′4″ is definitely at the v top of the height range though and might be pushing it tbh. these are all based on what i know to be true myself having met a shit ton of princesses and character performers, but there are deviants for sure. basically don’t use taylor swift as an fc for alice. cool??? cool.

quick service food and beverage: once you’re in a restaurant you typically stay there. although qsfb can also extend to outdoor vending (odv) in which case you would rotate from cart to cart (they’re the ones that sell the mickey bars and pretzels n shit), but if you work in a restaurant you typically don’t switch between that and odv.

WORLD SHOWCASE @ EPCOT: if you’re in the world showcase, the people that work in the different countries are usually authentically from there. it would be very, very rare to have a white/european person working at one of the restaurants in mexico. i’ve honestly never met someone who wasn’t from their assigned country that worked there. i’m speaking specifically about the world showcase and not any other part of epcot. many world showcase cast members are part of the cultural representative program which means they come for 12 months and they work in either the world showcase in epcot, animal kingdom, animal kingdom lodge, or international guest relations/greeter roles. basically, if you’re gonna have your character work in a world showcase pavilion, make them from that country pls.

attractions: if you work attractions, you are most likely not just working at one ride for your entire life. for example: in adventureland in magic kingdom, those attractions workers work aladdin’s magic carpet ride, the enchanted tiki room, swiss family robinson treehouse and anything else in the area. basically if a land or a certain area within the park has the same costume, you’re working all of it so i’d familiarize yourself with just how many attractions your character might be working.

**quick note again: not every job is within a disney park. you may get a job at disney springs, water parks, or resorts!!!**

WORK THINGS!!!

when you’re working, disney has you on a strict points system. if you’re late to work, they dock you half a point. if you miss your shift/call out, they dock you a point. if you get 3 points within 30 days you get what’s called a reprimand. and this is not good my friends. you get 3 reprimands within 3 months and you’re out. like out out. like turn in your blue card and get out. you can get authorized days off or (ADO’s) but you have to request off like crazy early or get someone to take your shift.

ahh!!! blue cards!!!! your blue card, or blue ID, is what identifies you as a cast member at disney. it’s also what you flash to bypass paying for parking, and it’s what gets you through the gates to get you backstage at disney. you don’t have it, you’re fucked basically. blue IDs also get you discounts on merchandise and food at some QSFB restaurants.

MAIN GATES!!!! your key to the kingdom!!! your maingate is your entry pass to all the parks. it serves as a park hopper. you also get 3 guest passes which, depending on if you’re a cp, part time or full time has so many passes on it for whomever you wish to bring with you into the parks.

you answer to two people while you work at disney. your coordinators and your leaders. your coordinators are out on stage with you and there’s usually like 2-4 of them depending on how large your location is. they’re who you ask for help in a pinch. your leaders are like your managers. they give you a briefing in the morning before you open, they make tough calls, and they have to ability to smooth over almost any situation effortlessly. if you have a reeeeally angry guest, you better call ur leader.

when you’re not on stage, you are backstage. i literally cannot stress this enough. if you’re on break you should not be seen or heard. there are break rooms for every section of each park and if you’re not on your feet, you’re back there. they’re not nice. they’re small, crowded, and usually smell. there are larger cafeterias within every park though (at DAK ours was called PRIDE ROCK) but they’re usually quite a walk depending on where you work.

BREAKS!!! if you’re working at disney that means you’re typically spending 6+ hours on your feet and however long your shift is is how long your break is. 6 hour shift?? you’ve probably got one 15 min break. 8 hours?? prolly one 30 min. break. 10 hours??? that’s when you get the hour long break. oh also that 10 hour shift you were scheduled for?? it just turned into a 13 hour shift thanks to a force extend. you’re welcome. but you’re in luck!!! sometimes you get an early release or an ER!!! that’s when they don’t need you so they’re like fuck it go home.

oh also everything is in military time.

GLOSSARY (terms cast members use a lot)

cast members - if you work for the walt disney company you are a cast member, not an employee

DU - disney university (yes it exists and it’s fuckin baller on the inside)

company d - this is a store inside disney university. it’s where you can get exclusive cast merch and also you can buy your discounted party tickets there

cast connections - ok this is honestly disney’s best kept secret. cast connections is this huge store where u can buy so much shit for like 75% off. they even have a small grocery section where everything is hella cheap. you have to be cast to buy shit.

costuming - where you go to get your costumes duh. there’s one at every park, but magic kingdom’s is at west clock.

west clock - ok so basically not all mk cast is allowed to park in the parking lot like at other parks so there’s this thing called west clock that has a huge parking lot and it’s where disney university and magic king costuming is. you go to west clock and then take a bus to get to magic.

tunnels/utilidor - backstage at MK consists of the utilidors or tunnels as they’re often called. MK is the only park with tunnels and they’re fuckin extensive. there are colored lines on the walls that can direct you to where you need to go, but it’s still confusing as hell.

qsfb/fsfb - quick service/full service food and beverage

merch - merchandise

odv - outdoor vending

stands west/stands east - a variation of working merchandise in the parks. you work at the small stands instead of the shops

four keys card - if a fellow cast member or guest thinks you’ve successfully exemplified the four keys, they give you a four keys card. this is for recognition and it also takes a point off of your record.

MK - magic kingdom

DAK - disney’s animal kingdom

DHS - disney’s hollywood studios

CP - college program

ER - early release

force extend - when they fucking extend your shift without asking u

ADO - authorized day off

deployed - sometimes you get asked to work in a different park for a few days or weeks, they call this being deployed.

on stage - when you’re on the job in front of guests

backstage - the areas where you can’t be seen by guests

guests - not customers, guests.

honestly there’s probably so much more i need to cover, but that’s just a lil taste of what it’s like to work at disney. i might add onto this later or just make a second guide. if you have any questions about anything specific, the disney college program, qsfb or animal kingdom rly let me know bc i know the most about those things, but i’m knowledgeable in A LOT of other stuff too.

#rpt #rph #guide #rp guide

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