#this was mostly me messing around with a new brush while also having nothing but. the blorbo on my mind
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I am completely normal about daiba nana
#this was mostly me messing around with a new brush while also having nothing but. the blorbo on my mind#kris’s art#nana daiba#daiba nana#revstar#revue starlight#also. bonus points to however can guess what image I referenced for this#*WHOEVER. god. I cant spell
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Contemporary Love
Established relationship, minor jealousy, mainly fluff
F!reader
———
“America!” Stephen called, his voice echoing off the walls of the sanctum. “Are you almost ready? We’re going to be late!”
He paused outside of her bedroom door, arms crossed as he continues to check his watch.
“Almost! Give me a second!” The teenager replied.
Wong appeared from around the corridor, brushing off his suit jacket as he walked.
“This thing has been collecting dust for years. Never thought I’d need it again.” Wong sighed, stopping in front of Stephen.
“You look good. Never thought I’d see you dress in formal wear. Didn’t think the Sorcerer Supreme had time for such events.” Stephen said with a cheeky smile.
“Everything seems to be running smoothly, no thanks to you.” Wong chuckled, still messing with his suit that seemed to be a little too tight.
The door opened to reveal America dressed in a simple black dress with appropriate shoes and a coat.
“You know I’m only doing this for Y/N. She’s been looking forward to this for months.” She huffed, brushing a stray piece of hair that didn’t catch in her updo.
“Isn’t that why we’re all going?” Wong questioned, as the trio began to walk towards the main entrance.
“No, Stephen also just wants an excuse to see Y/N in a skin-tight dress.” America quipped.
Stephen choked on his own breath, looking down at America before lightly smacking the back of her head.
“That is not why I’m going. Stop being inappropriate.” Stephen scolded. America had a cheeky grin on her face as she rubbed the back of her head. Wong chuckled at her antics.
Stephen opened a portal to the entrance of the Recital Center, before they all stepped through. There was a bit of a line that mostly consisted of adults with a few accompanied by children.
There were lots of stares coming from the crowd as the three appeared, the portal closing behind them. Stephen reached into his breast pocket before pulling out three tickets.
He gave one each to Wong and America, who held them gingerly. They stepped to the end of the line before people returned to their own lives.
There were many whispers throughout the crowd but beyond that nothing was out of the ordinary.
The line quickly began to move, and within the next thirty minutes, the trio was able to get inside and take their seats.
There was a lot of people around them, all chattering and shouting at each other from different rows. America sat in the middle between Wong and Stephen, so she pulled out her new phone and began scrolling.
“Y/N just posted a picture back stage! Check it out!” America perked up, turning the phone to Stephen.
On the phone was a picture of you with your dance partner, both wearing white coverups over your costumes. Your friend had you in a side embrace, with your hand against his chest.
Part of Stephen’s heart pinched with jealousy seeing you so close to another man. But he smiled through it nonetheless before he got to the description of the photo.
‘Can’t believe today’s the day! So excited to perform with this handsome man! Nerves are definitely kicking in, but we’re both hyping each other up!’
Another pinch at his heart, but Stephen felt like he was being ridiculous. You could have male friends that aren’t him. You gave him no incentive to believe you would ever cheat on him, so there was no reason to be jealous, right?
Back stage, you put away your phone as you continued blending out your makeup.
“I wonder if Stephen and everyone is here yet…?” You breathe shakily, the nerves beginning to get to you.
“I’m sure they’re here. They wouldn’t miss this for the world, yeah? Besides, you know your little magic man would never miss a chance to see you practically naked!” Travis perked up, nudging your arm jokingly.
“Oh, come on, Travis. He’s not that shallow. Besides, you’re practically naked too!” You called out with a smile.
Travis ran his hands down his sides while looking in the mirror.
“And I look good!” He laughed, adding a bit more powder to his face to hide the light sweat.
“Besides, you picked this song because it reminds you of him!”
“He’s not the type of man to listen to this kind of music, so I doubt he’ll even notice.” You sighed, completing your look.
“Well, the point is for you to dance to the song, not just show it to him. I’m sure he’ll love it!” Travis reassured you with a gentle smile.
Travis has been your dance partner for the last five years, and you knew practically everything about each other. You knew him before his transition, and have always been there for him when things got rough.
You were glad to have him as a dance partner because you probably couldn’t trust anyone else with your stunts and music interests.
You both began to stretch as the first performance starts. You whisper many ‘break a leg’s to the performers as they left the room.
Stephen wasn’t a stranger to performances like these, as he frequented a lot of performing arts performances during college and his years as a surgeon.
The lights were dim as you and your dance partner walked out on stage gracefully. Stephen sat up in his seat as a smile appeared across his lips at the sight of you.
The music began as you both went into your beginning poses. The song is slow and delicate, much like your dance moves as you glide gracefully across the stage.
The way you stretched your arms up and down so beautifully showcased your skill and talent of contemporary dance.
There was something so intimate about the way you danced with your partner, Stephen couldn’t help but imagine himself in his place.
He longed to hold you so closely in front of everyone to see, to solidify the fact that you were his and he was yours.
Your leaps and turns were as smooth as silk as you perform, and he couldn’t help but take in the lyrics of the song along with your moves.
Stephen saw you as a goddess worthy of worship. He would give his very life if it meant that the two of you could be together forever.
Seeing you dance gave him so much joy, as you work so hard and practice almost every day to be the best you could ever be. It was something you enjoyed doing, and that was enough for him.
You slip into your partner’s arms in the final pose of the dance, as the music gently fades away. The lights finally dim once more as your performance comes to an end.
The applause began, as Stephen took to his feet along with Wong and America. For a second Stephen thought he’d caught a tear in Wong’s eyes, but he quickly wiped it away.
All that was left to do now was wait for the final bow and you would be free to join them.
They waited patiently until they saw you again along with all of the performers as they take their final bow.
They eased their way through the crowd to meet up with you as you make your way out of the front door.
“Y/N! You were so great!” America immediately shouted, running up behind you to give you a big hug. You smiled as you hugged the teenager back, your eyes meeting with Stephen and Wong.
“Wonderful performance, Y/N. That’s the kind of grace we look for at Kamar-taj.” Wong complimented with a smile, putting a hand on your shoulder after America stepped away.
“Thank you.” You said, before taking gentle steps towards Stephen. Your lips curved upwards as you met his eyes, eager to hear what he thought of your performance.
Like the show off he is, Stephen made a bouquet of flowers appear out of thin air as he gently handed them to you with a smile of his own.
“You were wonderful, my love. I’ve never seen a finer performance than yours.” He said gently, taking your hand in his.
“Oh shut up,” you playfully pushed him, “You’ve seen better and I know you have!”
“But this performance was by you, and nothing compares to your talent.”
Your cheeks flush a bright red at his words, sinking against his strong body with a big smile.
“Thank you, Stephen…” You hummed, taking in his cologne as it messed with your head.
Stephen pulled you into a gentle kiss, and you gladly accepted.
“Ok, this is getting gross. We’re gunna head back to the sanctum now.” America cringed, but deep down she was happy for you because you were happy.
“Okay! See you guys tomorrow? I’ll bring dinner!” You suggested, as both America and Wong lit up at the mention of food.
“Perfect. See you tomorrow,
Y/N!” Wong replied eagerly, before creating a portal back to the sanctum.
“Shall we take this back to my place?” You whispered against his lips, running a hand down his chest.
“Yes, please…” He agreed all too soon, before the both of you pulled away from each other.
The two of you got into your car, opting for you to drive because Stephen has yet to get behind the wheel since his accident.
Down the road, Stephen placed his hand on your upper thigh.
“That song…Were you thinking about me when you chose it?” Stephen asked softly. Another blush crept to your cheeks as your hands tighten around the wheel.
“Yes…I didn’t think you’d notice, actually. I thought of you as I danced, imagining it was you…” You admitted gently. Another smile spread across Stephen’s face as he looked at you.
You didn’t dare look back, knowing you’d get far too distracted if you did.
You arrived at your apartment, as the two of you quickly walked through the door.
Immediately after the door shut, you threw yourself at Stephen, pressing him against the back of the door in a heated kiss.
He quickly reciprocated, placing his hands at your waist. Tongues quickly caressed each other as the kiss heated up between the two of you.
Stephen never made it back to the sanctum that night…
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@camilaguayo6789-blog I hope you like this! I hope I did your request well, as I haven’t danced in a very long time. This is my first time writing in the last 6 months so it’s not my best, so I hope you all enjoy it. Feel free to reblog as I start trying to get good at this!
#doctor stephen strange#stephen strange x reader#x reader#doctor strange x reader#marvel#contemporary dance#how to tag#idk how to tag this#im a newbie#marvel mcu#new writers on tumblr#fanfic#doctor strange
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my second entry for @mcyt-yuri-week!
prompt: post-canon
ship: nature wives (shelby/katherine), post-witchcraft smp!
There’s so much that’s changed since Empires, but the one thing that will always stay constant is the inordinate amount of blaze powder Shelby goes through in a month.
She has a new blaze farm now, far away from the Evermoore. It’s bigger and fancier, but unfortunately, it’s also a bit farther from her new house. Shelby usually goes alone, but Katherine insisted on coming along today. (She says it’s just to protect her partner, but Shelby is convinced she wants to test out her new battleaxe on some monsters.)
They hold hands as they walk across the nether wastes, and Shelby rambles about something new she’s learned. “I have to be really careful tomorrow. I don’t know if it’s totally true, but Cleo told me something back during the witch trials about penumbras messing with weather magic. I think it’s something about the shape of the shadows–”
“Penumbras?”
“Those weird shadows from a partial eclipse. There’s supposed to be one tomorrow.”
“Oh, no way!” Katherine gasps. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one.”
“We should have a midnight picnic!” Shelby realizes. She stims with excitement for a moment, then scribbles the idea down on a crumpled piece of paper in her pocket.
To her surprise, when she puts the paper away and turns around, there’s a child in front of her mimicking her stims.
“Oh, hello!” Katherine says. The girl turns and runs away, then peeks out shyly from behind a boulder of netherrack. She’s clearly an Origin – not quite human, but not quite a full mob, either. Her hair is pink with a large white streak, and she’s short and chubby. Judging by her upturned nose and the sharp, fang-like teeth that show in her wide grin, she’s probably a piglin hybrid. She looks to be about nine or ten years old, and she clearly isn’t used to being around other people. Shelby notices the way the piglin nervously fidgets with her hair every time she sees Shelby or Katherine’s expression change, while Katherine realizes that her clothes are singed and ripped in ways that indicate she hasn’t been taken care of in years.
“Hold on a second,” Katherine says. She takes something out of her inventory and walks over to the girl. As Shelby watches from farther up the path, Katherine hands the piglin a tiny golden star charm from a necklace she’s been making. “This is for you!”
The piglin takes the charm and stares at it, moving it around to watch the way it catches the light. She smiles brightly. Katherine is about to walk away when she notices the piglin brush her tangled pink hair out of her eyes for what seems like the fifteenth time that minute. She reaches into her inventory and notices the two pink hair ties she keeps around for emergencies. “Hey, do you want me to tie your hair back? It’ll keep it out of your eyes.”
The piglin cautiously nods and sits down in front of Katherine. She takes out the hair ties and gently styles the girl’s hair into two pigtails. “There. Much better, right?”
The piglin makes a few happy squeaking sounds, squeezes Katherine’s hand gratefully, and scampers away. Katherine laughs as she walks back over to Shelby.
“Aw, you’re so good at that,” Shelby says. “She’s so sweet. I hope that little sprout’s okay.”
“Little sprout?” Katherine asks. “That’s adorable.”
“That’s what my grandma used to call me when I was a kid,” Shelby says with a sentimental smile.
They walk for a few more minutes before Shelby notices something wrong. “Whoa, stop!” She grabs Katherine by the arm and pulls her back.
“What happened?” Katherine looks around, then notices the source of Shelby’s concern. The ground below her is mostly netherrack, but she nearly stepped onto a large patch of gravel – gravel with nothing below it. “Oh, void. Thanks.”
“Anytime.” Shelby smiles and wraps an arm around Katherine. Katherine leans into her and rests her head atop Shelby’s.
“You’d think we’d be better at this whole Nether exploration thing by now,” Katherine chuckles. Shelby grins and elbows Katherine playfully. “Hey, speak for yourself. I’m great at this–” Katherine holds out an arm to stop Shelby from falling into a shallow pit.
Shelby puts her head in her hands, then rests her head against Katherine’s shoulder, laughing all the while. “What are we even doing today?” Katherine asks.
“Not well. We are not doing well.” Shelby picks up a piece of glowstone from the ground and studies it, then hands it to Katherine. “Here. A good-luck charm.”
“Why, thank you!” Katherine says in a jokingly formal tone, then takes a flower out of her pocket and tucks it behind Shelby’s ear. “And one for you, too.”
“Why, thank you!” Shelby says with a curtsy.
They giggle together, then keep walking towards the blaze spawner. From out of the corner of Katherine’s eye, she sees a small blur of movement.
“Oh, hey!” Katherine grins and points to the other side of the path. The girl they saw before is back, hopping across the netherrack to collect tiny pieces of glowstone. She sees Shelby and Katherine and beams with excitement.
“Hi, kiddo!” Shelby calls. The piglin waves, thinks for a moment, then leaps forward and does a cartwheel for her new friends.
Katherine laughs and nudges Shelby. “Aw, she’s got so much energy. Reminds me of you.” Shelby giggles.
Across the path, the piglin notices the gravel floor that Katherine nearly stepped on earlier.
Shelby panics, grabs Katherine’s arm, and calls out to the girl. “Hey, little sprout, that isn’t stable–”
It’s too late. The tiny piglin girl joyfully dashes out onto the patch of floating gravel and digs her feet into it. As she kicks up tiny rocks, she realizes just a moment too late what she’s done as her feet sink through it.
“No!” Katherine shrieks as she watches the gravel give way and fall towards the lava below, taking the piglin with it.
The piglin manages to catch herself on a ledge and tries desperately to grip the netherrack and catch herself. Her nails dig into the cliff for a moment, but she isn’t strong enough to stop her fall. She slips off the ledge and falls into the ocean of lava with an awful squeak of terror.
Shelby and Katherine race to the edge of the cliff and look over it. There’s a terrifying moment where they both think she’s dead, but her head finally peeks out of the lava as she struggles to swim and reach the netherrack shore.
The second Shelby sees that the piglin is alive, she impulsively jumps into action. She takes out a fire resistance potion with one hand and grabs her broom with the other. Before Katherine can react, Shelby takes flight and dives towards the lava herself. “Be careful!” Katherine calls after her as she drops downwards.
The tiny piglin is putting up a good fight to survive. Shelby knows piglin hybrids can survive in lava for extended periods of time, but that doesn’t mean they’re immune to it. The girl is covered in burns, and she’s crying, but she’s alive, and her eyes light up when she sees Shelby come closer on her broom.
Shelby’s feet dip into the lava (thank goodness for fire resistance potions) as she comes close enough to reach her new friend. “I’ve got you! It’s gonna be okay!” She holds out her hand to the piglin, but she can tell from how stiff the girl’s grip is that her hands are burned too badly to hold onto anything.
Shelby takes a deep breath and murmurs a silent wish of please don’t let my broom catch on fire, then dips deeper into the lava to scoop up the tiny piglin herself.
The child goes limp in her arms as Shelby picks her up, but her heavy breathing makes it clear that she’s still alive. Shelby holds her closer and tries to untangle some of her singed pink hair. “Hold on, all right? My partner and I are gonna help you.”
Shelby’s used to flying fast and making sharp movements, but she does her best to work against her instincts and give her new friend a gentle ride. She still reaches the top of the cliff with ease and comes to a just-slightly-too-sharp stop at the top. Katherine reaches out and gently takes the piglin from Shelby’s arms. “She’s burning up.”
“You’d be hot too if you just came out of a lava lake.” Shelby flicks a few remaining drops of lava off her boots to prove her point. “Can you help?”
“On it.” Katherine gently lays the piglin down on the netherrack, then scans through her inventory and finds a small red shulker box with “first-aid kit” written in cursive handwriting. She turns back to the girl and says in a soft voice, “It’s okay. I have to patch myself up when I get hurt all the time. And don’t even get me started on her.” She points to Shelby, who laughs. The girl giggles a bit, too.
Katherine takes out a few things from the kit. “Okay. I’m gonna put some magma cream on your burns first, all right? It might hurt a little bit, but it’s gonna help them heal faster.”
The piglin nods. Katherine takes a few dollops of magma cream and rubs them into the red, burned patches of the girl’s skin. She winces and squeaks as the touch stings, but she slowly relaxes as her burned skin slowly fades back to its normal pale pink.
“There. That feels nice, doesn’t it?” Katherine ruffles the piglin’s hair. “Okay, I have some potions for you now.”
The girl sticks out her tongue and shakes her head. Katherine bursts out laughing. “I know, little one. Potions taste bad sometimes. But Shelby makes really, really good ones. Like this one–” she takes out a level two healing potion– “tastes like watermelon and lemonade.”
The piglin takes the potion suspiciously, uncorks it, and takes a tiny sip. A grin spreads across her face as she drinks the rest of the bottle in seconds.
“See? Told you it was good. You can have this one, too. It’s strawberry- and mint-flavored, and it’ll help you heal even more!” Katherine takes out a level two regeneration potion, and the piglin happily drinks it. She squeaks happily and curls up against Katherine as the potions take effect. Katherine gently hugs her back. Shelby sits down next to them, and the girl leaps into her arms for an even tighter hug.
“What’s your name, little sprout?” Shelby laughs as she ruffles the piglin’s hair. The girl stops smiling.
“Can you talk?” Shelby asks softly. The girl shakes her head, thinks for a moment, then tilts her head sideways to indicate kind of.
“Sometimes, but not right now?”
The piglin nods. Shelby holds out her communicator so the piglin can type instead.
no name
“Did you ever have one?” Katherine asks.
not sure
i’ve lived here forever and ever
i think i had a name once but then everyone left
and so now i have no name
“Would you like a name?” Shelby asks. “I think I’m okay at naming things. I know a lot of magical weather and space things, if you want something like that.”
what’s weather?
Shelby freezes. “Oh, right, you’ve lived here forever. In the Overworld, we have a big, warm sun that shines over everything and helps green plants grow. And sometimes fluffy clouds cover the sky, and water falls down. That’s called rain. And at night, we have a moon that glows and a bunch of bright stars in the sky. You haven’t even seen the sky…”
i like the moon
and the sun
they sound pretty
“What was the thing you were telling me about?” Katherine asks. “The weird shadow when there’s an eclipse? That’s the moon and the sun at the same time.”
“That’s called a penumbra,” Shelby remembers, and the piglin nods and jumps up and down.
pretty!!!
“Do you want that name?” Shelby asks. Penumbra nods happily.
“And we can call you Penny, if you want!” Katherine adds. Penny hugs Katherine tighter than she’s ever been hugged before.
Shelby joins the hug. “Aww. It’s nice to meet you, Penny.”
Penny stays wrapped in their arms for a minute. As they hug Penny tighter, Shelby hears the piglin take a deep breath and murmur, “Let me stay?”
“What?” Shelby asks.
“Stay with you. Go home.”
Katherine and Shelby look at each other with the same expression of hope and love in their eyes.
“Of course,” Katherine whispers as Shelby scoops up her newfound family member and puts her on her shoulders. “Let’s go home.”
In the end, Shelby thinks as she steps back through the Nether portal with a smile on her face and a tiny piglin on her shoulders, this was always how it was going to turn out, wasn’t it? At the start of Empires, she and Katherine were just lost kids looking for acceptance. It’s been eleven years since then. They’ve found each other, they’ve found a family, and they’ve found a world that believes in them.
It’s their turn to show that same love to someone else.
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nsfw wilma thoughts it is! (i have quite a few headcannons so please bear with me incase this gets super long)
- is either a pillow princess or the biggest service top you’ve ever met in your life
- has fantasies about using a strap (giving and receiving, receiving mostly) but she’s too nervous to bring it up
- goes weak if you kiss just below her earlobe, it’s the quick fire shortcut to turning her on
- loves nicknames like princess, sunshine, flower but you call her angel and the wholesome dynamic she has will flip 180 and you will get topped SO hard
- loves loves loves receiving praise, if you tell her that she makes you feel so good or that she’s a good girl, she gets close so quickly
- has a soft spot for waking you up by eating you out in her bed in the cottage because the rising sunlight hits your tits just right (an image in her head for a new painting later)
- sometimes uses a paintbrush to tease you by trailing it down the length of your back and up the inside of your thighs
- when she tops you, she loves lightly choking you to see your eyes roll back and hear you gasp but, to her, nothing is more rewarding than feeling you try and brush up into her hand when she strokes your hair
- has the prettiest, most aesthetic small collection of toys that she was really nervous to show you but had no reason to be nervous because once you saw the look on her face when you used the small rose quartz dildo on her, you couldn’t stop using them
- doesn’t seem like she would be into it but uses orgasm denial leading into overstim when she finally allows you to cum a LOT
- would love to have sex with you in her private gallery
- she’s so quiet, barely a moan escapes those lips but her little whimpers and whines are just so cute
I- this took me so long to get too but I’m not mad at all- I love this women with my whole life-
Minorssssss- no. I am hissing at you like a cat.
Ngl I see both- like I find her to be more of a pillow princess personally but if she really felt like it, she would immediately be on top of you in seconds. She wants to return the favor!
Ugh! Yes yes! No because she wouldn’t bring it up, but she’d leave you clues for it. Like maybe an ad for one pops up on your phone and she’s like “hmm that looks nice.” Or maybe she’ll start talking about new things you guys could try. She wants you to catch on so badly-
No because I imagine she’s painting and you kiss her there as a greeting, not fully aware of where it was and immediately seeing her freeze up and let out a small whine- lord… afab wilma and eating her out while she paints is… yes. Now same thing with mtf Wilma- like- sucking her off….. sign me up.
No because Angel is what she is. And also! If that makes her top you hard, than I want to say darling turns her into a subby mess real quick
She only deserves praise. Idgaf about anyone else’s opinions, if anyone says anything mean to this beautiful women I will hurt them. No but just a simple “good girl, keep going.” Has her whining and squirming. And it can be in any situation, if it’s from you it counts.
Bro- I don’t think you know how many times I’ve thought about that- just her moving the covers away from your body, fully exposing you, mentally taking so many pictures of the light hitting your body just the right way before she stays to kiss up your thighs to finally placing a kiss on your clit than going to work. And when she finally hears that small gasp you let out and a hand snake down to her hair, she’s smiling so big as she looks up at you- and you bet that painting will be one of her best.
Oml- now and when you start to squirm and plead for her, she just smiles at the control she has in the moment and uses it to her advantage. Kissing all over your body as she runs her hands everywhere she can-
She can put her hand around my neck anyday. But she loves the little gasp and moan you met out when she lightly squeezes your throat too like- lord she thrives off of it. No but also when you try to brush up into her hand, she’s cooing so fondly at you and praising tf out of you.
I- do I even have to say anything for this one because yes. She looks gorgeous anytime obviously but just the way she reacts to every movement and shit is so- lord I love her.
Ok but I see it- she’s do it every once in awhile when she’s stressed or some shit and takes it out on you but like- anything for you mommy.
OMG YES! and like her private gallery is like right outside the house and it’s all glass windows and shit so it’s so ethereal and shit- like you guys are just on the couch that’s in there, the light hitting both of you so beautifully, and the sensuality of it all is so- so amazing. All full of love and admiration.
Yeah- no I feel like she whines and whimpers a lot tho. Like maybe every once in awhile she’ll let out a moan from either being close or finally coming, but she just makes small noises that you love very much. But you do want her to be loud sometimes-
#I’m froathing at the mouth at these-#like- she’s so pretty.#and lovely and sweet and#Wilma is- my one true love.#lilly’s ask#anon <3#wilbur soot smut#wilbur soot x reader smut
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appears. whips out my uno reverse. pixlriffs to u too (and also maybe fwhip if you want yesyes) 7, 9, 10, 14, 16, 17, 19, 22, 30, 41, 47, 53, 54, 62, 88
(that's probably way too many feel free to skip any sjdfklsj <3)
So I wrote answers to all of these and they did not save :,) so take 2!
Also! You did not specify a season, and I'm procrastinting, so have hc's for both characters, for both seasons of empires, on all questions
7☕ What Helps You Get Into Headspace ~
Copper King: Mostly involuntary regression, but I'll say for voluntary, a pacifer + oversized jacket, and being talked to in a soft, calming voice. Being told a story, maybe, or just being taught things that he's really interest in.
Count Fwhip: Varies day-to-day, could be a paci one day but not the next, and maybe one time that fuzzy blanket made him instantly baby space but this time he's just chilling and writing letters while cozied up with it.
Archaeologist. Pix: Teaching him things! He gets so excited. Also being in his froglight orchard makes him feel small and fuzzy inside.
Goblands Fwhip: So many things! Very excitable little guy, but like... pacis + teething rings are the way to go to ease him into regression.
9🦇 Do Your Likes Change When Regressed ~
Not really for either! Interests become more intense, but like... nothing new?
10⏳ Do You Have A Baby Voice In Headspace ~
Copper King/Arch Pix: Not really? The copper king is non-verbal when he's small, or very slightly verbal, and anything he says is slurred around a pacifier and almost indecipherable. Arch. Pix also doesn't really talk, he prefers to listen, but he will very quickly and excitedly babble about anything and everything if you ask, and mess up a lot of words doing it, so kinda.
Count Fwhip + Goblands Fwhip: Yes!! He's just a little guy, he dunno nothing about words, lots of dropped letters and made up words from this kiddo!
14⭐ Dragons, Unicorns Or Fairies ~
For copper king/arch pix dragons 100% love dragons want to know everything about dragons, fascinated by them
I think for count/goblands fwhip same thing with dragons, but count fwhip might have a more vested interest in faries because he believes they're real :)
16💫 Neon, Pastel, Neutral Or Dark Pallets ~
All of them are definetly more neutral/dark pallets, maybe some pastel every so often.
17🐮 Favorite Regression Clothes ~
Copper King/Arch Pix: Over sized blue jacket!! He has it in multiple sizes and wears the different size ones depending on how small he feels (pretty sure I stole this from you /lh) and also just normal pants/comfy pants
Count Fwhip: Dresses/Skirts + a shirt that doesn't feel gross on his skin if he chews the neck part. Flowy clothes are more fun to play in!
Goblands Fwhip: Comfy Cozy clothes, fuzzy and warm but difficult to ruin because he is rambunctious.
19🐭 Do You Collect Stickers ~
Copper King/Arch Pix: Yes!! They love to collect stickers from their friends, probably have sticker books so they don't get ruined.
Count Fwhip/Goblands Fwhip: Less the type to collect and more the type to have some a put them all over his empire and other people's empires
22🦄 Finger Paint Or Brushes ~
Copper King: Finger paint! His favourite activity to do with Joel when they are small together (reminds me of what I'm doing for our art trade!) is use the mezelean dyes/paints to finger paint! They have lots of fun together.
Count Fwhip: Probably also finger paint just because his fine motor control is limited to building + redstone only, holding brushes does not cooporate with him when he's on the smaller end of the scale, so finger painting is better for him.
Arch. Pix: He likes brushes just because it's more control over what he's doing, and he likes to paint things for his friends and want's it to be as amazing and totally awesome and cool as possible
30🐱 Sleep In Crib Or With CG ~
Copper King: Preferably neither, haha! He likes to pretend he doesn't need to regress, and sleeps just fine in his adult bed thank you very much! But when he's a baby, probably with someone? Just for comfort, since he's a very stressed out little guy who just needs some cuddles and someone to rub his back while he falls asleep.
Count Fwhip: Neither too, but like he was to sleep near Gem, in the same area if not the same bed when he's small. She's his twin!! He loves her to death and just wants to sleep knowing she is near by.
Arch. Pix: Probably a crib, actually. I think he's the kinda kiddo to roll out of bed a lot, to the point where he's pretty good at catching himself, but when he's little his reaction time is slower and he's gotten a couple of bruises, and a spranged wrist, from doing it incorrectly/too slowly, so I think while not like a proper crib, he'd have gaurd rails on his bed (and they'd make him feel oh so small, like a little kid. He likes to drag his fingers across the bars and listen to the quiet noise of the wood, it's soothing.)
Goblands Fwhip: Crib! He's a little guy, and he likes to be small to fall asleep because it makes cuddling his stuffies feel much softer and nicer, but a normal bed is just uncomfy, he wants to feel protected, and a crib does that for him!
41🚀 Favorite Game ~
Copper King: Hide and seek! Or more specifically, hide and entertain himself for a while because other people are stressing him out. And it's a no talking game which is a bonus!
Count Fwhip: I think he likes to play games with Gem + Sausage, maybe tag or like doing tricks, that kind of stuff. Something active.
Arch. Pix: I think he'd still really enjoy hide and seek, but also scavenger hunts!! Or just finding things and showing them to people, he loves to just pick stuff up and stick it in his pockets because Joel/Fwhip/Scott/whoever would probably find it interesting and he'll see them at somepoint right?
Goblands Fwhip: He just likes to play anything, silly little chaotic gremlin boy, he likes to do pranks and that kind of stuff, probably hiding and spooking people as they walk by (but not too badly! also gives himself away because he's little and giggling the whole time and anyone can hear it from a mile away)
47🐛 Do You Believe In Fairies ~
Copper King -> Not really? Like there's a lot of magic so hypothetically yes, but when he's small he just... it's not on his mind? He has The Vigil/Death thing going on, so fairies are much of a strech, but he doesnt like... actively believe in them.
Count Fwhip: 100%, absolutely without a doubt, have you seen some of the empires with all their crazy plants? Only fairies could do that.
Arch. Pix -> When big sort of? He definitely believes/likes to believe in all kinds of stuff like that, both big and small. When he is little he'll build fairy houses in the froglight orchard. There's a fairy ring not to far from the catacombs, he always makes sure to avoid it.
Goblands Fwhip: Yes, once again. He lives near the deep dark, if skulk exists why shouldn't fairies??
53🍃 What Pulls You Out Of Headspace ~
Copper King -> He can psyche himself out of headspace if he gets too anxious about people needing things, or if someone is mean to him about something/teases him he can pull himself out because he no longer feels safe, even if the intial regression is involuntary, if he's too overwhelmed he can pull himself out. Also probably being around littles who are younger than him, since his brain wants to be a caregiver instead.
Count Fwhip: Probably not a lot, if he manages to properly regress, but when he's bouncing around probably loud noises/not feeling safe would pull him out of it sometimes (though sometimes it pushes him further in), and maybe being like... babied to much right out of the gate when he's feeling over would make him feel weird and like he'd pull himself out (although it could make him a baby, could go either way)
Arch. Pix -> Feeling awkward/out of place around certain people when he's regressed would pull him out of headspace.
Goblands Pix: Being mean to him :( he's just a baby, but if he gets in trouble/is made fun of for something he'll force himself out of headspace
54🍏 Are You Scared Of Bugs ~
I don't think any of them are! Copper King no, he has a great appreciation for what they do, and while he may not like them all, he's not scared of them. Count Fwhip maybe some?? But like not in general.
Archaeologist Pix loves them!! So does Gobland Fwhip! The sillies love bugs, they could stare at them for hours.
62🎃 Do You Sleep With A Stuffie ~
Copper King: Not so much? He has them, but doesn't really sleep with them. Maybe if he's super small and it's offered he'll take one, but not on the forefront of his mind.
Count Fwhip + Grimlands Fwhip: Yes!! He loves them, they are important to him when small, he likes to cuddle when the shadows get to big or it gets too cold, so they are the perfect substitute for an actualy person.
Arch. Pix: Yesss! He tucks them in, and they have tea parties in the frog orchard and fall asleep on picknet blankets!
88🌼 What’s A Nostalgic Place For You ~
Copper King + Count Fwhip: Pixandra + Grimlands -> I like the idea of Grimlands + Pixandrai being quite intertwined as two old empires on the fritz with one another, and that Pix and Fwhip both spent a lot of time at eachother's empires as children + growing up and both places are nostalgic to them. For Pix also Mezelea, just because I like to think that Joel would have been quite close to him as a child, as Pix was a ruler long before Joel was, so he helped him get everything in order when Joel was crowned king of mezelea, so specifically the mezelean palace is nostalgic for him
Arch. Pix + Gobland Fwhip: The Catacombs for Pix 100%, I think that when he first got established in the lands, he found a lot of comfort in the weighted, but peaceful, presence of the catacombs (also ghosts!) and it just feels safe for him, and it's nostalgic to retrace some of the first steps he took as an archaeologist in this land of empires for him. As for Fwhip, he definitely has lots of nooks and crannys in Gobland that he would escape to as a child, and the ones he can still squeeze himself into have a very nostalgic feeling for him.
#afehaoue this took so long but im proud of it#star writes#age regression#agere#sfw agere#mcyt agere#empires agere#empires s1#empires smp#pixlriffs#fwhip#empires fwhip#fandom agere#empires s2#count fwhip#copper king#goblin fwhip#archaeologist pix
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Sonic Fandom Rant
Okay so, although I have been pretty ecstatic to see people be as excited as I have been for Sonic Frontiers’ new story direction, going to more serious things like what we had in the Adventure era, I feel people have been taking way too many jabs at the previous writers for stories.
Pontaff was hit and miss sometimes. I feel they hit it good with Colors. I feel the dialogue was mostly harmless and sometimes even fun (people from the fandom really dragged the baldy mcnosehair bit to the ground when it was only used ONCE OR TWICE in the entire game.) it could’ve been better yes, but I don’t think it deserves as much rejection as what people have been voicing as of late. Generations didn’t really have much of a story which was a missed opportunity and it could’ve been so much grander and better while still being a fun ride. Lost World is where most of the ups and downs REALLY tend to fluctuate. They got Eggman pretty well, Sonic doing something reckless (which I believe he would end up doing and is in character imo) and Tails being more proactive. I feel the conflict could’ve been something better instead of Tails feeling jealous or brushed aside, BUT I love him as a character evolving to the point of straight up standing up against Sonic for something that he doesn’t feel is right.
That means that Tails sees himself as... HIMSELF, that he wants to be seen as his own person and not just Sonic’s sidekick or something alike and that is something that I genuinely liked. But then we have Orbot and Cubot shenanigans, with Cubot almost killing Sonic and Eggman having to save him because Tails was messing around too much. That was pretty stupid and me no likey. Eggman WANTING TO TEAR THE DEADLY SIX APART AND HAVING THAT RAGE MOMENT IN THE OTHER HAND IS A CHEF’S KISS. He was menacing and genuinely scary at that moment. Mike’s performance in the scene was awesome and I feel the writing actually hit a good point there. But people took Lost World as a lost cause in general and deemed it as another failure. I kinda agree on the sentiment that the story was NOT good and could’ve used revisions or an entire rewrite, but there were moments that definitely shined.
Forces is... Complicated. There’s a lot of things that could’ve been handled a lot better, like how nobody thought of using the Chaos Emeralds to fight Infinite when they would’ve been a perfect match against the Phantom Ruby and instead of the Avatar having to use Wisps, they could’ve been using Chaos Powers like in Sonic 06 or something like that. Eggman was also on point in the game too. Him taking over the world was cool to see and his super big death egg mechs were awesome.
So, ups and downs, but nothing that I would deem as dreadful, terrible and that it was a bad time to be a Sonic fan like how many people have said it was.
Y’know what is a bad time for me now? People praising a writer that’s only seen the Sonic comics for most of his life, MAYBE playing a few of the games and thus giving us completely out of character versions of Sonic, Shadow, Eggman, Amy and Silver. People praising the living shit out of this guy and saying that Frontiers is as good as it is right now when Ian’s most likely only done character dialogue and nothing relating to the story, or Roger’s new voice direction, or anything that would be the backbone of the game’s premise.
Or how about taking jabs at Sonic Team for not being able to include or do every single thing the fandom wants like playable Knuckles and Amy in Sonic Origins. You already got 4 games fully remastered for every single platform under the sun and you got Knuckles to be playable in Sonic 1, 2 and 3, but just because fans have the time and dedication to “fix” it up, they are just better than Sonic Team and Sega. Yes, they are improving the experience and it is awesome that we are this strong of a community to have achieved these kind of modifications and fixes that could rival a company’s way of patching the game later down the line, but it is different in terms of a company making a video game vs someone changing it that isn’t from a company.
They have deadlines, they might not be able to get things working as they intended, or there might be corporate heads messing shit up. I���ll always support fan creations whenever it be mods, romhacks and anything else people can come up with, but there should be respect towards the original developers as they are what provide the content we strive from. They are still people.
Almost everybody knows what happened with Sonic Omens and that game goes to show that NOT everything the fans do is going to be good, or better than what Sega pulls out and I feel people need to understand that. It also puts a lot of pressure on other creators, that they need to do better than Sonic Team or they’ll be shitted on, that they aren’t “up to standard” and that can spiral really quick.
In general, I feel people have been harsh with Sega and Sonic Team in general and although praise is going to them with Sonic Frontiers, a lot of aspects that could also be praised are instead going to Ian Flynn, since a lot of the fandom see him as a godsend, that nothing he does is wrong and that he is going to save this franchise, when it was already healing before he even intervened with the development of this game. It’s just that we didn’t really see it.
I dunno, this is a wall of text but I wanted to let out so many things that I’ve been feeling with the fandom as of late. Feel free to add anything if you want with a reblog or a comment.
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i havent journaled in a while so i guess ill do one now while i wait for this melly to kick in so i can sleep.
i actually meant to do this last night but i got too tired to continue after typing 2 words lol. i went to work today and then hung out with my bf afterwards for like 6.5hrs. it was a good time with him today. we really just smoked a little joint in his backyard while his dogs ran around. then he made grilled pork and we had his sisters pasta and meatballs with it. we watched the new ep of frieren while eating some krispy kreme glazed donut that his sister brought and then we just hung out for the rest of the night. funny enough, i actually meant to write some things about him last night but after hanging out today, my initial thoughts have changed. basically, ive noticed that hes been in this weird funk for a few wks and i couldnt really figure out what it was and if it was just me overanalyzing or whatever. after i hung out with snow which was feb2, there was an incident where i accidentally forgot to reply for 2hrs, even tho i read his msg so that affected our relationship in a way to the point where like he apparently started to care less and wasnt fully into it all. the way he explained it to me, he felt like he was holding back his feelings or like they just werent connecting and whenever we hung out, it felt like a regular hangout (almost like how a friend hangout would feel). it was only up until recently where he started to acknowledge it more bc of this recurring situation we were having with sex. like for a little bit honestly, i would notice that he wasnt fully into it like he used to be/normally is. i didnt say anything at first but after a while i think we were on the topic and i told him what ive been noticing. then all of a sudden it got worse bc it was actually affecting our relationship. it made us (but mostly him) question our connection, his state of mind, our chemistry, all that. like we didnt know what the problem was since this like never happens so its weird.. and he did bring back up how when i hung out with snow last time, at the time he told me that something in him switched and he couldnt explain it or fully understand it but whatever it was, i guess it was progressively becoming more prevalent without him realizing. like he was pretty much self sabotaging himself and so he recently actually had to like “self reflect” foreal bc i swear, he was being less like himself and less emotional and genuinely happy and not as affectionate. it wasnt completely obvious but i def did sense that something felt different. i felt like he would act jealous and suspicious of me at times and itd be his own trust issues coming out, as well as some insecurity. like, at times those parts of him were tiring bc its like the same things over & over. it made me feel like he was trying to find literally anything to use to try to pick at with me. like to find fault in me or accuse me/suspect me of something that i clearly am not doing. like i already know hes got some deep rooted trust issues and self esteem issues but damn it felt like i was always the one messing up and upsetting him and making it like hes just being sensitive and dramatic..like!! no!! its just sometimes so difficult to try to tell someone who is actually overthinking and overdoing it without sounding like youre gaslighting or brushing it off as nothing. i really was trying to understand him and his pov. its seriously all bc of my friendship with snow which is crazy…like how has our friendship become this prominent in both our lives and is causing this much conflict between us, even tho i told him a million times that it shouldnt. i tell him the truth about it, im not lying, not cheating, not anything but its affected him soo much. btw we are trying to plan a day to hang out again soo we shall see how he reacts to it & ill also not make the same mistake. ill deal with that later but at least today, he felt like really great and happy which is good and it made me realize how i did miss this from him. im glad were okay tho:)
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No, I wanted to know what we were calling it, so.” So. Now, he knows. He’s not sure how to describe why he wasn’t expecting it, except, “I’m used to it being a joke.” Not even one told by Shiro usually told by Shiro. “I’ve never had a boyfriend before.” Is that an odd thing to say? “I don’t hate it...” Maybe he just needs to hear it in a different sentence.
He’s regretting not sitting beside Shiro, because then at least, he could get his hands on the troublemaker. Hands running up his thighs sounds like a really good place to start. He huffs and wants to tell Shiro he’s lucky because if he were anyone else, Ichigo might feel the need to do something about it. Only Ichigo did try. He tried hard. And that fact makes him antsy in his seat while he thinks about all the places he wants to get his mouth. “And I hate you.” Just so Shiro knows that hasn’t changed, especially when the bastard is being such a shit, but, “But… I still like you.”
That makes him pause. “No?” Seems like the right answer. He sighs and rolls his eyes, but mostly for show. The food is good and it doesn’t take more prompting to have him digging into it. Shiro didn’t say what they’re doing though, so he’s guessing he has to wait to find out. He gestures to both plates. “So is that a… juvenile prison whatever thing?”
He ditches his empty glass and grabs his new glass, taking a drink while Ichigo sort of fumbles through his thoughts. He gets it. His thoughts are a jumbled mess too. "It was a joke, but not... I was serious about the boyfriend part. I like it, but it could be negotiated, if you decide you do hate it." He shrugs. "I never really had a real boyfriend before either. Dating's new to me." He wouldn't be surprised at all if he's been with more guys than Ichigo has, he's actually pretty certain of it, but nothing was ever serious and only one or two ever seemed to be heading in a serious direction. "Perspective change, I guess. I mostly just, uh. Played around a lot, before." Which sounds a little weird and gross all of a sudden, even if he's pretty sure no one would be surprised. He slouches in his seat a little, but he's already this far, so, "A little late, I guess, but I've been tested. I'm negative for everything, so." He shrugs again, letting his attention drift off to the side.
He stuffs a big bite in his mouth and stares at Ichigo, watching all that frustration while he eats. It's like dinner and entertainment, it's great. Ichigo's always been a lot of fun though. so it's no surprise. He swallows and gives Ichigo a look of amused skepticism. "You hate me but you also like me? Those're really mixed signals." And, unfortunately, completely understandable. Probably deserved, even. He has absolutely no regrets about it. "I think you mostly just like me. What you hate's that you can't intimidate me into gettin' what you want like you can with most people."
That response has so much question in the tone. "That's right, the answer's no, good job. Now eat for real or I'll end up eating your food too." He's not sure if that's really much of a threat for Ichigo, he doesn't seem nearly as interested in food as Shiro is. He looks down at his own food when Ichigo motions to it and then looks back up, snorting. "No. We got three square meals and no one went hungry, that would'a been child abuse. This is a–" Hm. Why is every subject they talk about today awkward? He could make something up, or brush the question off with a generic response. He doesn't think Ichigo would push, but he's already a relatively honest person to begin with and he doesn't quite feel the need to not be honest with Ichigo. "It's a too many drugs and not enough food after I dropped outta high school thing. I still have the metabolism of a tweaker, I'm hungry all the time." He flashes a somewhat embarrassed smirk and shovels more food into his mouth so he can stop talking.
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Playing with their hair with SnV bois (some)
TW: None
Characters: Poseidon, Adam, Hercules, Ares, Hermes, and Thor.
EDIT: I thought I might have mistyped smth but heck I have no idea tbh. I think I read a reply wrong? m(._.)m *thinks about it* yeah, I think I did read it wrong. anyways, should have written for supremo husbando Loki.
Real sorry if they are ooc, I have only written for a few. U know, the only one for me to improve is to write. So, I hope you like it.
Requests are open. I don't have rules (yet), but I write n s f w and s f w with most characters and most things.
Anyways pls enjoy<3.
Playing with their hair
SnV
Poseidon - He is a sucker for any attention coming from you. It all goes to his large ego and this, in particular, feels nice and he gets to spend a lil' time with u. He always looks bored on his throne, so whenever you walk into his throne room, you sit in his lap or stand behind him talking to him while playing with his blonde tresses. He loves it when you sit on his lap, sort of draped over his legs where your side is against his chest where one hand is entangled in his hair. It almost puts him to sleep. He hates it when you stop. "Did I say stop?" Your hands almost fall off bc it's always "Don't quit." "One more minute." RIP hands.
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Thor - Loves it. You fawn over his hair and secretly, he will not tell u this but loves the attention and how u praise his immaculate hair, "Oh, your hair is beautiful. Your hair is so soft. How can you have such long thick beautiful hair? I want ur hair, Thor, I'm jell." He loves when he sits down on his throne and you have a fancy brush and comb in your hand and comb or brush through it. You always take your time going from his scalp to his ends in a gentle manner. If you beg him enough with pouty lips, he lets you style in. Nothing crazy, He does let you play with it and try new things out on him, but most will not be kept like that. He often keeps two braids that frame his face. They are not too big. Easily noticeable, but enough for you to be happy and him to be ok walking around like that it is all good for him. and he likes seeing ur happy face: :D
more~ Also rlly really likes when u yank his hair. "Haha yoink," *pulls his hair*. He perks up and has all his attention on u. kinda riles him up. u know what I mean? Like that. U found out by messing around and pulling his hair back gently and u swear u heard him make a little noise like he liked it.
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Hercules - I just feel like he radiates "good boy" energy and good bois get head pats and their hair played with. He finds a way to force your fingers in his hair or his head in your lap leaving you no choice but to mess around with it. "Please?" :D. How can u deny his perfect smile? He gets all happy and smiley. we all love happy and smiley Hercules. 100/10 Good boy and loves when u play with his hair. He has a look of pure bliss whenever your hands r in his hair.
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Hermes - Doesn't like when you mess up his hair, but likes how it feels so usually he doesn't mind. There is not a lot of opportunities to do this bc he is always working, but u have time when he is standing around or finally comes to bed. You quietly stand next to him and run your fingers down his hair, sort of smoothing it in place and raking ur fingers through it. You run off when he gets busy, but he wishes you would stay.
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Ares - Gets all flustered especially when it's out of nowhere. Like he is at his desk working, immersed in papers and books and such and whatever he does, and does notice u coming behind him. He only notices when he feels his helmet being taken off and your voice softly speaking out, "I love you," while u play with his curl. Oh boy. Does he love it when you play with it. If you play with his hair around others, they like to (mostly his brother and father) like to tease him and he gets a little flustered and embarrassed. He is an emotional person prone to outbursts and this calms him down if u can reach him tho. He Tall Boy™️. If you're laying down together, he likes to pull you in and you tight while you fall asleep with your hands in his hair.
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I am not too happy with these but eh. Thanks for reding and pls send a request or smth if u r interested or want to share or talk about anything <3
#record of ragnarok#shuumatsu no valkyrie#poseidon x reader#poseidon snv#thor x reader#thor record of ragnarok#hercules#hercules snv#hermes snv#hermes#ares snv
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Bloodlust
Pairing: Damon Salvatore x fem!reader
Warnings: smut, explicit language, blood sharing, mentions of death, oral sex
Word Count: 2,6k
Summary: Stefan forced Damon to try his animal diet. Damon hated it, but didn't had a choice... until Reader makes a suggestion. Suddenly things get steamy.
Being with Damon was complicated. Him and Y/N have seen each other a lot in the past weeks. The two of them had a lot of fun; saw a lot of movies. Actually, Y/N was sure Damon secretly hated many of those. However, anytime Y/N suggested another dramatic, romantic cliché movie like "Last Song" - the vampire groaned, put his arm around her shoulder, let her head rest on his chest and endured every single second of the movie of her choice.
Damon even flirted and teased Y/N here and there, but didn't lead to anything more intimate so far.
Today was another of those days. Y/N stuck around at the Salvatore boarding house, brought a few of Damon's favorite groceries and a bunch of movies, of which she thought that they will suit his taste. Even if they were a little to bloody and brutal in her opinion.
"Pick one!", she demanded, holding all three Blu-ray sleeves in front of him. Damon just shrugged, not bothering to even look.
"Don't be a killjoy, Damon Salvatore!" Y/N sighed.
"Tell me what's wrong or pick a movie. You've got no choice. And besides that... Which number of drink is this?" Y/N frowned, pointing at the liquor in her friends hand. Damon usually consumed his beloved bourbon with pleasure.
But the man on the couch didn't seem pleasured at all. His facial features totally hardened and a look in his eyes like he was ready to rip someone's heart out.
You put the disc's back in your handbag, closing the zipper and put the bag on the floor.
"Fine. No movie night today. Who are we going to kill?"
A small smirk appeared on Damon's lips, finally looking towards Y/N.
"Stefan and his hero hair. He made me go vegetarian... well, for a vampire... and I can't get myself to eat one of those chipmunks, bunnies or bambis." He shook himself with disgust.
"And why did he count you in? You clearly aren't excited about the changing... So, why did you agree?"
"He said, he would kill me, which is kinda funny. But-" Damon made a wide gesture "he stole my daylight ring. And he wouldn't give it back until I stop feeding on innocent people - and kill them."
"So, you truly let your younger brother blackmail you like that?! Wow... I don't know how to feel about your dieting or your new path. Or whatever this is supposed to be."
"You don't like me killing people either", Damon maintained, while taking another sip of bourbon.
"Well, I don't", Y/N agreed, took a step forward, stole the glass from the vampires hand and put it on a small table nearby. "But I don't believe in forcing as a method to get people to change their minds. I believe that change for the better must be an intrinsic motivation," she added quickly, giving the vampire an innocent smile.
Damon's lineaments suddenly turned from annoyed to curious. "Any suggestions, little one?" The vampire raised an eyebrow and a little smirk showed up on his lips. On the one hand, Y/N blushed over the nickname, Damon called her. On the other hand she felt skittish looking forward to making a deal with him. Not only a deal. It's far more than a simple agreement.
It's Y/N, actually giving Damon a part of her. The red elixir of life. She was about to give him total control of her body and she not even for a heartbeat doubt that Damon will use it against her.
"Actually... Yeah. There's something on my mind." Y/N said chewing on your lip. "I could open up a vein for you. I mean, you could feed on me. And since you have my permission, there's nothing for anybody to have objection about."
Damon frowned and gave her an incredulous look. "You would do that for me?" The vampire couldn't believe, he understood correctly. Why would Y/N want to get involved with him feeding on her? What's in it for her? Damon tried hard to connect the dots, but he wasn't able to. It all seemed to make no sense. Y/N wouldn't have an advantage of that. The vampire hesitated, pinning his dangerously blue eyes on the girl in front of him.
"Is it so suspicious of me, that I'm trying to help my closest friend?" It pierced Y/N's heart, realizing, Damon's trust in her was rather fragile. "Never mind", she waved the pain away and forced herself to keep her composure. "I only had a hasty idea; you really don't need to fee-"
Suddenly Damon appeared behind Y/N, using his vampirism. "Shhhh", he whispered softly. "I never said, that I don't want your blood. I'm thinking about if we are going to cross a line? Blood sharing can be very personal..."
"It can be? It is personal already. Believe it or not - I'm not gonna offer my veins to all the vampires of Mystic Falls." Y/N rolled her eyes, her arms folded on her chest to point out the indignation she felt right now.
"Kinda sensitive today, huh?" Damon gently stroke a strand of hair behind her ear, Y/N could hear this smug smirk through his words. It was a true 'Damon thing' to do. "I didn't mean it like that, princess." He sighed; unsure if he should agree or not. Damon didn't want to act selfish towards Y/N. He compelled a lot of girls for the purpose of drinking blood in the past. He literally used them as long as they weren't too annoying - and then he acted like they have never met. Damon Salvatore couldn't imagine this scenario with Y/N. They've been so close, the vampire couldn't stand loosing her. The offer was risky, but it also could bring each other even closer.
Damon tried hard to avoid any serious attraction between Y/N and him, afraid of messing up. Indeed, he found himself thinking, and even dreaming, about Y/N more than he wanted to admit. She was smart and had this special sense of humor, the vampire adored so much. She was the only one, who could make him feel good no matter what. Needless to say she had that glimmer in her eyes, when she did something she truly loved. In these moments she was even more pretty. Y/N was hard to resist.
And maybe now he could have her like nobody else. At least the vampire gave in. He wanted her blood. He wanted her.
Y/N flinched by the feeling of Damon brushing her neck with his lips. "Oh, Damon", she gasped. "Bite me." Y/N almost begged for the vampire's teeth breaking through her skin. Damon loved the sound of her husky voice. In less than a heartbeat he turned into his vampire shape. "If you insist", he grinned devilishly, ready to place his teeth on to her skin.
Suddenly Y/N made a slight move forward with the intention to interrupt her friend. "Did you change your mind?" Damon was close to switching back to human, overwhelmed by a mix of emotions. Mostly a lack of understanding, but also a little of disappointment and even anger. Was Y/N playing games on him? While Damon Salvatore was sorting feelings, Y/N turned around, standing now in front of him.
She was so close, not even a piece of paper would fit between them.
Y/N slightly exhaled breath, her eyes darting between the vampires eyes and lips. It was the first time Y/N saw him like this. The icy blue of his eyes, she loved so much, has turned darker. Purple veins appeared under his eyes; Y/N couldn't help herself. Damon's appearance fully intoxicated every fibre of her being. Her fingertips found their way gently brushing over his dark purple veins. She felt heat and softness, while tracing one of them. It took her a few seconds to get out of trance, realizing what she had done. "Sorry", she murmured with a voice barely audible. "Don't apologize, little one." Damon tilted his head, his lips curled up in a self-assured grin, exposing a perfectly white vampire fang. "I never saw you like this before, you loo-"
"... look like a monster?"
Y/N shook her head. It was nothing like that. Yes, he did look unfamiliar. And she should be scared under normal conditions. Instead, his look hit her in an unexpected way. He looked hotter as a vampire, if it was even possible.
Y/N cleared her throat, looking up at Damon. "I feel... attracted to you."
"So nothing's changed", Damon teased, raising his eyebrows. The girl in front of him softly slapped him on his shoulder; which was only possible because the vampire permitted. "You are always so full of yourself." She smirked, feeling more confident being to something, they have had been so many times before. Granted, he was terrifying accurate, but she wouldn't serve her feelings on a silver platter.
"I'm still into it. You can bite me; feed on me. I only needed to see you before..."
A shockwave of electricity flowed through her body the second Damon took her hand and pulled her close.
"I'll be careful", he promised, nuzzling his head into the nap of her neck. Damon once again placed his lips on her soft skin.
Suddenly a harsh pain made Y/N feel like in a kind of haze. She flinched and let out a groan at the same time, unintentionally biting her lower lip.
During Damon embedded his fang deeper and deeper, she started feeling dizzy. Her hands searched for the vampires upper body, finally wrapped around his neck. She needed him to lean on. A narrow trickle of blood flowed down her neck. Let Damon feed on her felt like flames licking up every fiber of her body.
With every passing second Y/N could feel her control slip away. Her body was now firmly pressed against Damon's, like she would want to merge them into one.
Damon noticed her staggering, wrapped his arms around her waist, supporting her.
Bloodlust already messed up the vampires mind, so he continued feeding on Y/N.
A tempting moan escaped her lips, but she didn't care to cover up. Y/N's heart was racing, her eyes flattering. It was almost as if he was about to push her over the edge, but in a different way. "Mmm, this...this… feels soo weird... and so good...", she whispered under a shallow breath.
As soon as Damon heard her fading voice, he abruptly
quitted drinking from her.
"Fuck!" He rapidly laid her on his lap and checked Y/N's vital signs, to make sure she was okay. Instinctively he bit his wrist, pressed it against Y/N's mouth. He knew his blood would heal her, but it wasn't going fast enough. A few seconds passed through, to him they felt like centuries. Y/N finally blinked and Damon was relieved. He cupped her cheeks, his gaze never leaving hers. "I thought, I'd gone-" Damon cleaned his throat. "I'm so glad, you are doing well", he whispered, while trailing her lips with his fingertips. "So, fuckin' glad..." The vampire exhaled a deep breath.
"It... You made me feel good. Strange, but good", Y/N appeased and flushed over the memory. "Maybe you got a little carried away, but I don't mind. I wouldn't trade the feeling for anything."
Y/N quickly interrupted herself, before she could reveal too much.
However, Damon used his vampire skills, noticing that Y/N was hiding something from him. "Isn't there anything else you want me to know?", Damon asked without taking his eyes off her. Y/N shifted and flushed even more. "It's unfair. You use your vampirism to get everything out of me."
"Well, if that were the case, I could easily compel you." Damon shrugged and found back to his smugly self. "Tell me, what you are hiding". He said in a seductive voice.
"I wanted to get lost in you."
Her confession sent shivers all over the vampires body. At first he could not decide, how to handle this. "Are you sure that's what you want? I could really hurt you..." Y/N hummed.
In the next split second, Damon pinned Y/N against a wall, smashing his lips on hers, kissing her with all the passion he had to give. The vampire devoured Y/N with a new kind of hunger. He didn't know he could crave someone so much.
"Fuck me, Damon..."
The vampire felt him getting hard, only by hearing those little three words out of her mouth.
"Say it louder. Tell me, what you want me to do."
Y/N pulled him closer, gently biting his earlobe.
"Fuck... me, Damon." It took her a second to focus and forming the words again. After she was near to climax earlier, it wasn't a long way getting to the edge once more. "Make me cum... You almost had me there..."
A deep moan got over the vampires lips, once he understood, what Y/N was trying to tell him.
With the next blink Y/N found herself in Damon's bedroom, lying on his bed.
From now on there weren't many words needed. Damon's hand's found their way under her shirt, cupping her breasts and make her moan over and over again.
He closely listened to the rhythm of her heart, making sure he would be able to delay her climax to the point he needed her to.
"Don't cum yet... I want to taste your little pussy first."
Y/N grabbed the vampires head, running her fingers through his dark hair - pushing him down, since she was unable to form a single word.
As Damon got down, he didn't take his eyes off Y/N.
He used a hand pushing up her skirt and lightly stroking over her panties with his fingertips.
"My girl is so wet", he praised in a low husky voice."-and I barely touched you."
His dirty words in combination with his touch lead to another moan, almost turned into a scream.
Damon pushed the fabric aside, leaving sloppy kisses on the inside of her thighs.
Y/N's eyes fluttered, when his soft lips reached her middle.
Damon's tongue licking around her entrance was driving her nuts.
"...so delicious..." were the only words she was able to catch up. Damon knew, he couldn't thrill her forever, so he got back to her. He spit on his palms, stroking his hand over his crotch. In under a second Y/N finally felt this releasing pressure of his cock. It was like a switch went off in her brain and she braced herself for the hard thrusts that would follow.
Damon dimmed the whining noises Y/N made with a passionate, hungry kiss.
He cheated with his vampirism to give it to her deeper and faster, knocking out all the air of her lungs while Y/N screamed out Damon's name. Her walls clenched around him and made him twitch. It was like her pussy massaged his dick the best way possible.
Every time he hit her harder and rougher he was making sure he hit her spot with every thrust.
Damon gathered speed one last time and pushed her over the edge until she was a moaning whimpering mess.
With her last contraction around his shaft, Damon was cumming inside her.
"You are so tight, little one", he whispered under his breath. "We should make arrangements more often."
Please like or/and reblog if you enjoyed reading or/and want me to write more stories about Damon.
Thanks guys ❤️
#damon salvatore#damon salvatore x reader#the vampire diaries#tvd damon#damon salvatore x oc#damon salvatore x y/n#damon salvatore imagine#imagine#imagines#damon smut#damon salvatore smut#tvd fanfiction#fanfic#:mine#ian somerhalder#damon salvatore fluff#fluff imagine#smut imagine#damon x reader#damon x oc#theeternalstud
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( chapter 6′s gif by @buckysbarnes from this lovely set ! )
✪ — VACANT MIRRORS ; B.B. | 6/?
summary: gunshot wounds, panic attacks, and evil next door neighbors.
pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader
tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn
word count: 5.3k, a filler before the real sexual tension.
a/n: be warned, this chapter has a diy medical procedure where bucky removes the slug from rabbit’s shoulder. it’s nothing too graphic, but keep that in mind! also, i wanted to say thank you to everyone who has rec’d, reblogged, commented, kudos, liked, looked at this fic. the response to every chapter has been so overwhelmingly kind and i’m so thankful that i have the oppurtunity to share this fic with you all. that being said, i broke this chapter up. next week has some spice. ;-)
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Bucky wakes up with a headache that feels like someone’s tapped an icepick between his eyes. A fire-bright burn radiates under his ribs.
It’s a slow creep back to reality — he just lays there and stares at the peeling wallpaper that meets the corner of the ceiling for a while, knowing deep in the back of his muddled, confused thoughts that he most likely has a nasty concussion, maybe a few broken ribs.
How? Hm. Fighting. Music? The club.
Rabbit.
He sits up fast and Bucky’s blue eyes struggle to adjust in the low-light of the scarcely furnished apartment. The searing pang of his headache is enough to make his stomach churn, but he’s had worse. So much worse. This is manageable. So, he swallows down the nausea and looks around the room like a wounded animal — and almost immediately, relief greets him at the sight of you in the armchair across from the couch.
Your hair is a mess, falling from it’s previous style that you’d proudly worn to The Glass Cannon. Your lipstick is smeared, there’s glitter on your cheeks, and your make-up has transitioned from starlet beauty to broken-hearted bombshell. Bucky notices, with a bit of dismay, that you’re even missing an earring. There’s a nasty bruise forming along the peak of your cheekbone and a gash there from when Alexei had cracked you across the face with the pistol — and even despite all this, Bucky can feel his heart clench at the sight of you. A good clench. The sort that makes his heart kick into a stutter step.
You look… well, you look like someone who’d had the shit choked out of them and then was shot.
Shot.
Your jacket, punched clean through with the single bullet hole, is hanging over the back of the chair and there’s gauze taped to your shoulder. You’re leaning your good cheek in your hand, attention turned totally to Bucky, where you’ve fallen asleep. From here, you’re a picture of exhaustion.
Anxiety flashes in his heart and he swings his legs over the edge of the couch.
Suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder.
“Take it easy.”
It’s the woman from before, Kiwi, and she’s got an ice pack in her hands. It’s wrapped in a ratty, green dish towel, and she hands it off to Bucky with a pitiful little look. Rounding the couch, Bucky finally gets a better look at her.
She’s older than you, maybe by a handful of years, but sharp and beautiful nonetheless. Her hair is dark as night and the tips are drenched in a lime colored dye. Her eyes are dark, too, ringed by kohl and glitter, and Bucky wonders if he’s ever seen her before.
“You heal quick,” she says quietly as she plops down into the chair across the room. On a makeshift desk, there’s a laptop, “Care to explain how you know our dear friend Rabbit here?”
Bucky shifts uncomfortably. Again, his eyes fall on your sleeping form.
He maneuvers the ice pack in his hands, then gently presses it to his ribs. He melts a bit, ignoring the evident tears in the silk shirt. He feels bad — he’d busted some of the seams in the midst of the brutal scuffle and it seems like this artifact of Jaimie’s was most likely beyond salvation.
His dog tags jingle against his chest.
“Therapy,” Bucky croaks, “We, uh, we met in therapy.”
A new voice comes into the picture now, one that’s muffled by a mouthful of food.
“That’s cute.”
It’s the other one, Climber. He’s traded in his all-black, all-polyurethane outfit for an expensive looking t-shirt. Without the strobes, without the tunnel vision, Bucky can now see the intricate buzz cut that sits beneath the mountain of blue curls on his head. There are patterns buzzed into his tight-shave. He’s got a smile, too, the glimmers a little too artificially. Bucky spies crystals inset on his incisors between bites of what looks like a bowl of cereal with no milk. Spoon and all.
“I don’t think we’ve properly met,” Climber says as he plops down next to Bucky on the couch, “What’d you say your name was?”
A hand is jutted his way. Bucky blinks. He shakes it with his vibranium hand.
“I’m Bucky.”
“Well, I’m gay and you’re gorgeous,” he says candidly, giving it a good shake, “So, if that’s of any interest—”
“Can you please shut up, Climber?” comes an irritated rasp from you in your armchair. Bucky turns to watch as you raise your head and rub your eyes, “Christ, I just fell asleep.”
“And your little supersoldier just woke up,” Kiwi chirps from her preoccupation with the laptop and contents on it, “So why don’t you stop being a little baby and let him look at that gunshot wound.”
Bucky’s face falls flat. He drops the ice pack to the coffee table with a thwunk.
You sit up, gingerly trying to maneuver yourself so as to not bother both your ribs and your shoulder. It takes a moment, but finally you’re sitting up with only a dull ache of pain throbbing beneath your skin. Now, the real sting comes from the bitter look Bucky has pinned you with.
“You haven’t cleaned it yet?”
“The shits in the kitchen,” Kiwi waves at Bucky, as if to say told you so, “She fuckin’ refused to let me take care of it.”
“You’re going to get an infection if it stays in you any longer,” he snaps, standing to his feet, “Get up.”
“Kiwi isn’t exactly the most gentle person I know,” you manage to supply as an excuse as you move through the room, “And I know that thing isn’t coming out without a fight.”
He can feel the grey hairs coming in already.
You stand slowly, and Bucky looms behind you as you weave into the small apartment’s kitchen.
It’s barely lived in, but a few years ago it most definitely had life. Now, it’s mostly abandoned save for a few necessities. Kiwi had told you, a long time ago, about this spot — it was her parent’s place before the Snap. After the Blip, they ended up moving back to Massachusetts. Now abandoned by anyone seeking to really live in the one bedroom, it sits collecting dust until Kiwi inevitably needs it.
Like now.
“Up on the counter.”
You wince at his tone, but still thankful to be away from Kiwi and Climber’s prying eyes.
For the entire time Bucky had been out, you’d been subjected to a myriad of questions — all were fair, really, since Bucky did just bust out the Avenger-level super-moves on some Russian mafiosos for your sake, vibranium arm and all. The arm was really the biggest stuck point in the conversation as you tried your best to explain the nature of your relationship with the unconscious supersoldier on the couch. It was met with plenty of looks, both curious and skeptical.
You’re slow to hop up on the dusty marble countertop. From there, you watch Bucky poke through the kit that Kiwi had pulled from under the sink.
Then, with the calculated process of a man who has pulled one too many bullets from himself, Bucky slams the kit shut and wanders into the bathroom.
He returns with a pair of large tweezers. He’s silent as the dead as he rummages for a pan, fills it with water, and sets the gas burner on. He stares, watching the pot boil, as his foot taps against the floor.
You swallow down any comments.
There’s a clean towel beside you, and Bucky casually reached into the boiling water with his vibranium hand to retrieve the tweezers — whether or not he purposely ignored the pain is lost on you. You’re too busy anxiously spiraling into silence.
(He’s trying to ground himself, to feel something other than panic. It’s a mild spike, but it’s still panic. Because you’re hurt. Because you still have a fucking casing lodged in your shoulder and he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you. Ever. Because he saw it happen and then it was black, and now that anxiousness is creeping in.)
Rubbing alcohol, tweezers, gauze, tape, and… Jack Daniel’s.
It’s from the top of the fridge. It’s got a layer of dust on it — and it’s unopened.
Bucky unceremoniously pops the cap and hands the open bottle to you.
You take it and pause.
Bucky’s gaze is cold.
“You’re gonna want to take a few swigs, Doll.”
You almost snarl. You take a long drink then, ignoring the burn of the whiskey down your throat. It’s only when you’ve had enough to nearly gag that you hand the bottle back and then hiss:
“Don’t call me Doll.”
He takes the bottle and unceremoniously slams it down on the counter.
His movements are rough as he washes his hands — and if Bucky was a better person, maybe he’d take a second and parse through why he was feeling so damn irritable. But, no, no, he could figure out that he was angry at himself and you and Alexei Gardzov and Innessa Sidrova and fucking… everyone because he can’t have any normal relationships in his life without there being bloodshed or pain or suffering. That was enough, and he didn’t want to dig deeper into the nipping fear of losing you, not now, not when he had a job to do—
You suck in a sharp breath when his fingers brush your collarbone. He gently moves the delicate strap of your bodysuit, ignoring the soft skin beneath, and pulls the gauze away from your shoulder.
Your jacket had taken most of the impact it seems. Bucky frowns deeply at the pink fibers clinging to the entry wound. It’s a nasty puckered bit of flesh, smeared with blood, right in the soft muscle of your left shoulder. The hole is a little smaller than a quarter — Bucky recognizes it as shot from a 9mm almost immediately. He’s taken a few of these in his days. He’s glad it wasn’t close range. The burns from the muzzle flash make for nasty scars. He’d know. He has one on his back, right above his hip.
Bucky’s jaw is tight. He’s gritting his back teeth. His headache throbs angrily behind his eyes.
Bucky leans, eyeing the wound carefully. His limited reaction is enough to spark a little light of bravery in your gut, and you move to look at the hole — only to find a vibranium hand rooting your jaw in place. It’s gentle enough as it recorrects the line of your gaze straight ahead. His thumb rests on the curve of your chin as his index climbs your jaw, and the vibranium is warm and cold all at once. It’s an odd sensation. Not bad, but not flesh.
You like it.
(You find your mind quickly flashing with the thought of what that hand would feel like in other places. You ignore it.)
Your eyes are stuck on Bucky.
He’s clearly upset — the pinch between his brows and the evident scowl on his lips is enough of an indication. The bridge of his nose is busted and there’s a bruise crawling under his left eye. The shirt you’d given him is a wreck, and as he bends to snatch up a rubbing alcohol soaked pad, the feeling of shame creeps up on you. The anxiousness that’s settled in the pit of your stomach doesn’t help.
Arguably, it exacerbates the symptom.
The whiskey is slow to make an impact.
But, when Bucky finally swipes the gauze across the wound, your ankles have begun to tingle and it isn’t blinding white pain you feel — not yet. It’s sharp and it feels like he’s touching your shoulder blade when he presses his fingers into the holes to clean the immediate area. That has you grimacing tightly.
His obsidian-hued hand holds your face still through it.
So, you opt to stare.
His arm reminds you of some pottery you’d seen back at the Museum of Modern Art once, on a school trip. In a dimly lit room, spotlights lit up a row of vases that had been gilded back together with gold-dusted sap. You’d sat there for nearly an hour, staring at those things. You can’t remember the name now, not while Bucky does one more pass across the wound. It started with a ‘k’. It was beautiful. You loved that exhibit. Why can’t you — fuck — remember the name? Kinsi… kinsigumi? Gumi. Kintsi —
You grit your teeth and grip the counter tightly. He pauses. You exhale.
You inhale.
Kintsugi.
The seams of his arm remind you of Kintsugi.
It’s beautiful.
Bucky’s eyes flit to yours. He sees your stare.
Maybe it’s the pain, or the half-cocked daze, but the look in your eyes is enough to spur an immediate reaction. Bucky scowls. He yanks his hand back, retreating to the supplies on the counter. He’s pulled, hard and fast, and now he seems miles away.
Quietly, and with a bit more chill than he intended, he speaks. “If it was making you nervous, you should have said something.”
It.
Your head snaps to him.
“What?” you ask, nearly incredulously.
He’s silent. He has the tweezers in his hand now.
Your eyes narrow critically — and instead of shame and anxiety, it’s hurt that flies off your tongue. It’s drenched in enough pain that Bucky hears it in the waver of your voice.
“You think I’m afraid of you?”
It’s nearly a whisper.
He swallows.
He ignores it. He has to. He doesn’t want to know the answer. Either way that conversation goes is enough to drag him into territory he can’t handle right now. Not when he needs to do this without his hands shaking.
“This is going to hurt.”
Your mouth is open — be it shock or anger, he’s not sure. Bucky, however, makes a point of ignoring your expression and your reaction by handing over the whiskey once more. You snatch it from his hands quickly. There’s a look on your face that makes his chest ache. With one last pass over him with your eyes, you take a long swig.
You feel like crying.
You won’t, though. Not now. Not while he does this.
You deserve this.
And holy fucking hell does it hurt. It’s like someone’s taken a hot poker and punctured your skin, then rotated it around and around and around. You can feel every time the tweezers touch the bullet because the metallic little click echoes in your chest. It’s enough to make your head spin, and you grit your teeth and close your eyes and try to breathe — but even after a handful of minutes, when Bucky finally retrieves the slug, there’s no relief. Just a desperate throb.
Your hands are shaking when you reach for the whiskey once more.
You do cry, finally, when Bucky packs the hole.
He rolls the gauze up tightly into a cylinder and, as gently as he can, pushes it in.
It’s a horrible choke of pain that you smother into your palm and pant through. It reminds you to breathe, and while you stare up at the water damage on the kitchen ceiling, Bucky tapes a square piece of gauze over the bruised wound and wraps your shoulder tightly. He takes his time, but there’s a curtness to his actions.
Finally, when he begins to clean up the mess of bloodied gauze, you speak.
“If you’re mad at me, then just say it.”
He snaps almost immediately, like a kicked dog. “And say what, Rabbit? That I almost lost you?”
Your mouth slips shut.
Bucky pauses what he’s doing. He drops the gauze onto the towel and he bares both hands against the counter top. He leans and exhales and drops his own head back — then, you can see his own waves of anxiety knocking him against the shore of composure. His eyes move back and forth, he inhales, and then after a long while he speaks.
It’s calmer. Not so horribly mean.
“You should have told me about Alexei.”
You go to speak — but he stops you.
“I mean really, really told me,” he explains, “Had I known he wanted your fucking head mounted on a spike, I would have kept you far away from that place.”
“We had to—”
“No,” he says sternly, standing up full height, “No, we didn’t. We never have to do anything that’s going to put you in danger. Never. I won’t do it again. You should have fuckin’ told me.”
You’re quiet.
“A few more inches to the right,” he says, gesturing to your throat with his finger. His eyes are expressive and he’s speaking like he’s lived this experience, “You’d be dead. Cold and dead and I’d be here, carrying the fucking guilt around with me because I wouldn’t have been able to do anything.”
His voice splinters at the end — but he’s moved to throw away the gauze and dump the tweezers in the sink. He can’t look at you as he says it, and you know that. Because, just like before, people like you and him have a hard time looking the truth in the eyes.
You slide off the counter.
Your heart is sad. It’s heavy and mournful and weighed down with guilt.
“Bucky.”
It’s soft. He’s scrubbing your blood from his hands.
He doesn’t turn around. He can’t. He can feel the prick of an anxious breakdown beginning to climb into his eyes. Instead, he scrubs and scrubs and scrubs and your blood is stuck in the plating of his hand and it’s not going to come out—
Think of what could have happened if it had been a few inches to the right. The arched spray. Blood everywhere. She can’t speak through the gargle, she’s going cold, she’s gone. And, like always, you’re alone again, Bucky.
Then, your hands are on his.
The touch is enough to stop him. It’s enough for him to move aside at the large, inset kitchen sink. You exhale slowly as you run the water a little warmer and gingerly run his hands under the tap. Your hands are smaller than his, a bit more delicate, and he’s stunned into a sharp silence at the feeling of your fingertips gently washing away the crimson blood.
You grab another dish towel from a drawer beside the stove.
Then, in the dim light of the kitchen, you take both his hands and dry them.
It’s the vibranium hand that you pay special attention to, though. And Bucky feels like a fucking idiot — just standing there, just watching as you run the rag between the gilded plating and use gentle pressure to get into the harder to reach spots. You turn it over, and you dry his knuckles.
You take your time.
You don’t look up when you speak. You’re focused. Almost reverent.
He doesn’t deserve this.
“I’m not afraid of you,” you say sternly.
His mouth is dry. “Rabbit…”
Bucky shifts on his feet and takes a deep inhale. He feels lightheaded.
The whiskey, and the closeness of the two of you, makes your skin warm. His whole nervous system feels like it’s on fire.
“I didn’t mean to stare, I don’t ever mean to,” you apologize as your hands still over his arm. He watches your irises trace the plating above his wrist. The rag is forgotten, its purpose null. Your words are heavy, and Bucky can hear a little shake in them as you swallow, “I just… think it’s beautiful.”
You’re beautiful.
Even now, blood-soaked and sweat-stained. With makeup running down your cheeks and your composure in shambles. Even now, on the run and apparently wanted, you’re incredibly beautiful. Bucky hates how easy it is to admit and how hard it is to keep off his tongue. It nearly gets the better of him. He watches your eyelashes flutter. When you look up at him, the world is suddenly drowned in honey.
“I’m sorry.”
You mean it.
Your bottom lip wobbles.
Bucky, immediately, regrets being so goddamn cold.
You were just trying to help — you were just trying to do the right thing.
“Stop it. Come here.”
The hug is the first time you can remember touching him like this. You think you’ll always remember it, too. It’s sturdy and warm and gentle and honest and you bury your face into the shoulder as his arms come up around your neck. He’s careful of your own injured shoulder, and his fingers find the base of your neck. Around his waist, your fingers dig into the back of his shirt. Both of you ground yourselves in the other’s arms, and for the first time in a handful of hours, you both find peace.
Quiet, sturdy, lovely peace.
And the two of you stay like that for a while in the quiet little kitchen.
It’s not until Climber’s voice rises from the living room that you’re pulled away from Bucky — and even then, your face linger inches from one another for a moment too long. Neither of you say a word, only swallow down confessions that could have been, and move on.
“Oh, girlie, you’re gonna wanna see this.”
Bucky frowns. With your brows knotted tightly together, you weave through the kitchen and back into the living room.
Kiwi has sat up and both her and Climber have their eyes on the bulky flat screen on the dust-covered entertainment center. It’s cable news, and as Climber leans to turn the television up, a picture of you flashes across the screen.
It’s a photo from your arrest six months ago.
“Local authorities are asking that anyone with information on the whereabouts of this young woman call the FBI’s anonymous tip line—”
“Is there a reward?” Climber whispers almost excitedly, eyes on the screen.
“—Authorities are offering $100,000 dollars to the person who provides enough information to lead up to this dangerous fugitive’s capture.”
“Dangerous fugitive?” hisses Bucky.
“A hundred thousand dollars?” cries Kiwi, “Who the fuck did you piss off?”
You inhale deeply as you wave your hands. “The bigger question is who the fuck knew I was going to The Glass Cannon last night. Because they’re looking for me — not you.”
You point at Bucky and the gears are turning in your head.
The pacing is almost immediate, and Bucky crosses his arms tightly as you begin to walk back and forth behind the full length couch that Climber is currently spread out on.
It’s cut short, though, by Kiwi’s laptop chiming successfully.
“Well,” she stands quickly, “I have a feeling that someone knows you’re onto them. And the facial recognition software just got a match. A three point one, too.”
Your eyes brighten.
You’d given Kiwi the photo of the young Innessa, with all her decorated furs and blonde curls. She’s laughing and she’s young and she’s in love and it’s hard for you to imagine a woman like her to be dangerous. While you’d made sure Bucky was propped up comfortably on the couch and then finally calmed down from the adrenaline high enough to get comfortable yourself, Kiwi had dug out the hard-drive she kept on her at all times and began pulling data from the Alexandria Library files.
It had been a handful of hours, so it was clear that Innessa had hid herself well in the vast, expansive database SHIELD kept for all those years while it was in operation.
Bucky is quick to gather behind Kiwi, eyes scanning the screen.
Sure enough, when you come to look at the photos pulled up on Kiwi’s screen, there’s a hit. There’s an identification card photo of an older woman, maybe in her forties, pulled up alongside the photo Bucky had given you. Her hair is no longer blonde, but deep auburn color. She’s marked as having worked with Rumlow — a supervisor of some sort. Makes sense. You didn’t need to see a picture of Crossbones to remember Brock. Even when you’d interned, he’d been infamous.
And that was when he was one of the good guys.
There’s a handful of other photos of her — candids, professional photos, and even one where she is shaking Tony Stark’s hand.
And in all of them, you see your next door neighbor Bonnie McLayne.
“Fuck.”
Bucky blinks. Kiwi turns to look at you over her shoulder.
Again, you speak. Your eyes are wide. You can’t look away from the screen.
“Fuck, fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
“Rabbit…?”
“Fuck.”
Bucky’s face narrows considerably, confusion melting to make room for realization.
His voice is quiet.
“Do you know her?”
“Oh my god,” you say loudly, shaking your head and blinking, “Oh my fucking god, that’s my neighbor.”
Bucky can feel his whole face go clammy.
“The neighbor who—”
“—Who I showed your fucking picture to,” you nearly shriek, “Like it was some cute little matchmaking game!”
Immediately both hands are over your face as you throw your head back. Now, the pacing has begun, and like you’re being carried on autopilot, you begin to move back and forth and back and forth and—
“You don’t think she’d hurt Poke, do you?”
“Rabbit.”
“Oh god, oh god—”
Oh.
Oh, you’re having a panic attack.
Oh, that was quick. Brutally fast. Nearly immediate.
After all, she knows where your family lives. She gets Holiday cards from mom to give to you. She’s been your closest friend for nearly six years. But she’s not Bonnie, she’s Innessa fucking Sidrova. She’s seen you with Bucky. She knows — she knows a lot and you don’t know anything and you’re miles from home, from Poke, from Mom, from Ana… Oh, god, the baby. The baby.
“The baby.”
Bucky’s voice is level. “Rabbit, you gotta calm down.”
“I have to call my mom.”
“No,” Kiwi snaps immediately, “They’re going to be watching for your cell phone pings. No calls, no texting, none of it. And god forbid this woman is one step ahead of the FBI—”
“Oh, god.”
You gasp like a fish out of water, paralyzing fear sending you to lean against the back of the couch.
You claw at your chest and try to remember what Dr. Hart said about these sorts of moments. Square breathing. In and hold and out and hold. Again and again.
“Sit down,” Bucky says as he returns to your side, nearly sweeping you up long enough to plop you down into the armchair from before, “And do me a favor and breathe.”
The whiskey isn’t helping right now.
“I’m trying.”
Another gasped breath.
Climber and Kiwi watch.
Bucky shakes his head sternly, kneeling on one knee and snagging your hands. “Don’t try. Just do it. You can do it. Just follow my lead — you’re the sidekick, after all. Remember? C’mon. There’s the smile. Breathe.”
So you do.
In, hold. Out, hold. You draw a square with one hand on your jeans and hold onto Bucky’s with the other.
Again, in and hold. Out and hold.
And again.
And then, you just listen to Bucky’s breathing.
You’re not sure how long it takes — half an hour, ten minutes, who knows — but finally you’re able to calm the spiraling thoughts in your head. Finally, the loudness quiets down, you catch your breath, and the world isn’t falling apart. The bite of anxiety still remains in the hollow of your chest and Bucky can see that when you finally open your eyes and squeeze his hand.
There’s that look again between the two of you. The one from before, in the kitchen.
“Good?” he asks quietly, blue eyes swimming with some sort of emotion you can’t really pin down. Not now. Maybe, if you’d been a bit more collected, you would have seen it as infatuation. But, no. It’s just… nice.
You swallow and nod.
“Damn, girl,” says Climber from his spot on the couch, “Now I’m starting to get the whole therapy thing.”
“Thanks, dickhead.”
“That’s recent, isn’t it?” he asks, genuine worry crossing his face as he stands to gently pass a hand over your back, “I don’t remember it ever being this bad.”
Your face is sad. “I was just partying through it back then. Distraction was always the best method and then… When I had no more distractions and it was just me? Alone? And, psh, the accident with Jaimie? It got worse. So much worse.”
Climber’s eyes soften. “I’m sorry, bunny.”
You try to put on a brave face.
Bucky stands from in front of you and begins his own pacing. This one isn’t so much born out of anxious nature — but more of a tactical logic born out of keeping you safe.
This wasn’t exactly the turn he was expecting.
“You didn’t recognize her?” he asks after a moment, voice high and tight.
“I’m sorry,” you wave a hand, exasperated, “She doesn’t exactly look the same as she did in the 70s.”
Kiwi frowns at the screen. “Definitely botox.”
Bucky squints. He looks to you for an explanation.
You vaguely gesture to your face.
His brow lifts, he closes his eyes, and he sighs.
Kiwi is next to pipe up. “It explains why the feds are looking for you, especially if she saw you with the one man she knows is looking to hunt her down — so, I think it’s best the both of you lay low for a couple of days.”
“Not to mention,” Climber wags a finger, “Bucky the Babe over here did just piss off one the smaller Russian crime families in New York. So, there’s always that ontop of the evil Nazi-HYDRA-woman-next-door.”
You groan.
“Poke has enough food for a week,” Bucky says nearly reading your mind, “He’ll be fine.”
“So, what? We just wait here? Until something happens?”
“Sidrova is going to try and bait us out,” Bucky mutters, “She knows she can’t just disappear. She’s been settled for too long and we know too much. Engaging us in an altercation is how she’ll do it. Plus, I have a feeling she wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to shoot me in the knees after a few decades. So, we wait.”
“Few decades?” Kiwi whispers.
“How old are you?” Climber asks.
“Hundred and six.”
Both of them just blink at an unphased Bucky.
You sigh, finally standing on wobbly legs. “This feels like a bad idea. I’m just stating that for the record.”
“Better than her hunting the both of you down,” Kiwi supplies, “You can stay here. There’s cable, there’s booze, and there’s plenty of instant ramen to last you until winter.”
“Stale cereal, too.”
“Wait— where are you two going?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, “You’re leaving?”
“Keeping our hands clean,” Kiwi says, closing her laptop, “And letting you be the sidekick, bunny.”
The sadness in your heart grows a little heavier at those words, but there’s a little bit of pride in Kiwi’s tone. As she stands, she moves to wrap her arms around you in a gentle hug. Quietly, she murmurs into your hair.
“Your dad would be proud of you, y’know.”
Bucky watches.
Climber is next, and that hug is bigger, more brotherly, more like sunshine and less like autumn.
“Don’t be a stranger, Rabbit.”
“I’m sorry,” you blurt out as the two of them gather their belongings, “For dragging you both into this. But, thank you. You didn’t have to help me—”
“Yeah, we did,” Kiwi chirps as she knocks Bucky on the arm three times, “Keep her safe, aakarshak purush.”
The Hindi rolls off her tongue with ease.
Bucky laughs. “Bahut lamba.”
Kiwi pauses mid-step. She narrows her eyes. There’s a smile on her lips. “Your pronunciation isn’t bad.”
He shrugs plainly. “I get lunch almost everyday at the Indian place below my apartment, so. The owner has been teaching me some stuff on the side.”
An approving nod.
Kiwi hucks you the keys across the room.
She points at Bucky.
“I like him. Try not to fuck that up, eh?”
And then, the two of them are gone.
And it’s just you and Bucky in the empty apartment.
#vacant mirrors#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barns x you#bucky/reader#winter soldier x reader#mcu imagine#tfatws imagine#A LITTLE LATER THAN PROMISED BUT SHE IS HERE
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Late Night HCs
Bucci Gang Edition
TW: nothing too extreme, just a little bit of hurt/comfort stuff sprinkled right here and there.
Bruno Bucciarati
► Bucciarati typically doesn't stay up late at night, he has work and would squeeze all the amount of sleep he can get on his free time.
► Unless he has a lot of things in mind.
► It doesn't matter whether it's a work-related problem, his past, a random thought, or just generally his worries about his future. It will keep him up.
► He'll definitely need someone to be an outlet but if no one's available, he'll just stare at the night sky and distract himself with the moving clouds or finish some of his work until he's too tired to think of anything.
► If you happen to be in the same situation and same place that night though, then make sure that you take care of the trust he has for you when he was at most vulnerable and he will do same with you.
► I personally headcannon Bucciarati to be the type to like those kind of conversations since i highly doubt that he has been so vulnerable in front of anyone besides Abbachio ever since he joined the mafia.
► And even then, he's mostly the one who lifts the spirits up and not the other way around since he's the leader.
► So expect to hear things and words you wouldn't expect to come from the Bucciarati you see everyday come spilling out of his mouth, it'll be a lot.
► Pat his back or better yet, give him a hug and brush his hair while doing so. He needs it a lot since he hasn't really got one after his family fell apart.
► "I feel so much better now, thank you. I'll make sure not to forget about this night. "
Leone Abbachio
► The night owl of the gang.
► Staying up until 3AM is nothing new to this man, hell, he could even go on a whole day without sleep if he has a lot of things that's bothering him.
► He's the opposite of Bucciarati, he prefers to shoulder his intrusive thoughts alone. It'd take some great amount of effort and trust to make him talk and let it out.
► What he does during those times is either using his stand to replay certain memories that could either worsen his guilt or put him at ease, or just drink until he passes out but most of the time, he does both.
► He could also be listening to some music while he does so but if he's feeling guilty for making Bucciarati concerned about his frequent drinking, then he'll just listen to music and hope that he'll fall asleep and not just keep his eyes closed until the sun rises.
► It works, kind of, but even without alcohol driving him to sleep, he'll always be tired. His sleeping schedule is seriously messed up because he never really cared about it in the first place.
► Would sometimes go out for a walk. Leone is fond of the city's peacefulness when everyone is asleep, with the only thing keeping him accompany is the cold air and the dim light of the lampposts.
► Secretly still has his police uniform and would occasionally take it out just to stare at it or talk to it in a not-so-kind of way as he sees his younger self in it.
► Gets dragged in whatever shit Narancia and the others are up to if he gets spotted. Mostly it's just for a movie night behind Bucciarati's back but Abbachio knows better and expects the unexpected when it comes to the gang.
► Knows what everyone does in late night if they're still up and has seen a lot of ungodly sights.
► Whether it be seeing a sleepy Mista and the pistols chanting a weird prayer to a bowl of cereals or Fugo being dragged out of his room by Narancia, Leone knows it.
Pannacotta Fugo
► Just like Bucciarati, Fugo rarely stays up late at night and if he does, it's usually just because he's busy.
► Fugo has hobbies like painting and reading, everyone in the gang knows that. It's just that he gets carried way too far sometimes and loses track of time.
► Who could blame him though when the book he's reading is just too interesting or the painting he's currently working on is almost done, right?
► On extremely rare occasions where something unpleasant enough to keep Fugo up at night happens, he'll bundle himself in his fluffy blanket like a butterfly in its cocoon.
► He always does this back when he's still living with his parents, it makes him feel safe from anything that's haunting him.
► And if it's neither his hobbies or problems that's keeping him up, he'll just hear Narancia whispering outside his door or Mista throwing pebbles at his window.
► For the first few times the duo did this, Fugo was still able to resist until he just can't anymore knowing that they wouldn't leave him alone all night.
► "Well, this isn't so bad. "
► He says as he enthusiastically tosses a popcorn into his mouth with his eyes glued all over the lit screen of the TV.
► Movie nights, along with sneaking out to go the nearest convenience store, became a common thing between the Torture Dance Trio™ ever since then.
Narancia Ghirga
► The type to wake up in the middle of the night and think "Hmm... Everyone's asleep, let's commit robbery tonight!"
► Fugo's sleep paralysis demon.
► Would literally not hesitate to steal chocolate bars with Mista and probably does 3AM challenges with him too.
► Never runs out of ideas to keep himself up at night and is the one who comes up with everything but what he does still depends on his mood.
► If Narancia's feeling a little too lazy then he'll just sleep and most of the time, with music keeping him accompany. But unlike Abbachio, he purposely doesn't wear headphones just to annoy Fugo whose room is right next to his.
► If he's feeling like it, he'll straight up just invite the others to watch a movie or play videogames even though Bruno has already made it clear not to use the TV after 11PM.
► But just as he likes staying up at night doing crazy things with the boys, he also uses his energy left and free time to self-study, as surprising that may sound.
► He may hate reading but he takes advantage of the fact that his brain is much active at night and he doesn't want to depend on Fugo too much. After all, he dreams on going back to school and he's more than willing to be capable enough to do so alone and pass without the other teen's help.
► Will cuddle anything that's near him while he studies but if you give him a plushie, it'll be instantly his favorite and he would definitely use it as a study buddy.
Guido Mista
► Alright, let's be honest here, this dude wouldn't even stay up if it weren't for his bros.
► 5 seconds lying on the bed and he's already knocked out for a good 10 hours if there's no work he has to do for the day. Make it 8 at weekdays thanks to his mafia-related responsibilities.
► He sleeps like a log so only a combination of shaking him up awake with Fugo and Narancia can make him rise from what seems like a two year coma but is really just a normal tuesday night.
► Will pretty much join Narancia at anything he does but since his last three brain cells are obviously still as half asleep as him, he won't be able to remember that much the next day.
► And once he's out of the room and is already sitting on the couch with the guys, Mista's the type to fall asleep halfway through the movie.
► You can't blame him though, it's 12AM and it seems that Fugo got to choose what movie they'll watch since Narancia already got to choose the other night.
► Unless they're playing videogames or are going out then he won't be acting like a slow ass PVZ zombie with a fried brain. Actually, he'll be hella active if that's the case.
► Active at grabbing every snack each second, that is.
► Actually, it's the pistols who does that but oh well, it's not like Mista's innocent too.
► "I swear it's not me who ate all of our groceries for this month! Right, guys?! It's the pistols! "
► And that, everyone, is how Guido blew their little rendezvous without even trying.
Giorno Giovanna
► There's not much to be said about this boy since just like Mista, Giorno goes to bed early as he makes sure he still gets the proper amount of sleep.
► He already has a lot of things to deal with at day so of course, by the end of it, he'll be exhausted.
► Nights before exams are excluded because although he may seem like he skips class sometimes, Giorno still knows his priorities.
► Only when he became the head of the mafia did he really started to lose sleep as great power comes with great responsibilities.
► It took a LONG time for Giorno to adjust to a lot of things cause come on, he maybe resilient but he's still a 15 year old teen.
► Not only does he have towers after towers of work but i like to imagine that he still continued his education and used some of the things he learns in class in the mafia, specifically in classes like history or geography class since as a boss, he has to know every nook and cranny of Italy.
► Not to mention that emergencies happen and he always has to be ready to give out orders, even if it means being woken up at 1AM.
► God, help this child because all the things mentioned above are just an understatement of what happens on the first few months of being in charge of Passione.
► "So this is why Diavolo looks like he's about to explode whenever something goes wrong huh. "
#I'm writing for the gang again hell yeah#jjba#jojos bizarre adventure#vento aureo#golden wind#jojo's bizarre adventure#narancia ghirga#narancia#narancia x reader#leone abbacchio#abbachio x reader#bruno bucciarati#bruno buccellati#bucciarati x reader#guido mista#mista x reader#pannacotta fugo#fugo x reader#giorno giovanna#giorno x reader#||»•norange.writes
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“it’s not that important”
Summary: Y/N is in Harry’s band and one night they have a drunken hook up. One thing leads to another and they find themselves engaging in a friend’s with benefits type of situation. spoiler: it is important
AKA: A friends with benefits to lovers story :) with some angst in there
This is for @stylesharrys fallinharry10k celebration so my trope is friends with benefits! prompt is “you have no goddamn idea what you do to me. when i’m around you, i have no control of my emotions or my thoughts” and the tenth picture ^ i kinda just used it in the beginning to descripe what he was wearing - i got really carried away with this story but the prompt is in there !! lol, not proofread tho but would love your feedback !!!! :) love y’all very much
oh boy i’ve had this done for agesss but i hadn’t written the smut until today so now we’re here i dont even remember what happens - i vaguely remember not loving the end but I hope yall enjoy
Word Count: 15.4k (longest fic to date) | Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, alcohol consumption? i dont remember but i dont think theres anything too heavy in here.
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“Hey Harold!” You smile as you easily hop over the side of the couch and settle beside your bandmate.
Harry groans, yet can’t keep the small smile off of his face when he sees it’s you. “How many times have I told you to never call me that?”
Your eyes narrow at his faux glare. “And how many times have I told you, I simply do not care?”
You reach a hand out and tousle his already disheveled, unstyled brown hair. Despite his lack of styling, his hair still looked perfect. His chestnut hair fell into a middle part when he did nothing to it and you found it endearing. It made him look far younger than he truly was, like a boy you might have pursued when you were in your early days at college. The waves slightly framed his prominent cheekbones and chiseled jaw that was sporting a tiny amount of stubble.
He moves his arm from around the back of the couch to pat at his hair, trying to put it back in its nondescript position you had just messed with. After he’s satisfied, he uses the same hand to push up his glasses on the bridge of his nose. They’re chestnut brown Gucci frames that match the natural highlights in his hair. You can safely assume that’s why he bought them. The lenses are clear, but you know they don’t hold any prescription. He looks incredulously at you from behind them still.
“Nice glasses,” you mention offhandedly as you reach out to the coffee table to grab the drink you had left there earlier.
Before Harry had arrived, you had been taking up residence on the couch, in the spot he had actually taken up. You had ventured to the restroom for a moment and gotten held up in a conversation when asked your preference for the Beatles. Having to defend your staunch stance for the Beatles and against the Rolling Stones, you had gotten swept up into an argument with Adam. He believed that because the Rolling Stones toured for longer warranted them the title of best rock band. While you countered that despite their long touring and production of music, the Stones had a rotation of members. The Beatles maintained the four of them and held such a large impact even though they were barely together for a decade. They were one of a kind, or at least the first of their kind, you’d allow. You weren’t really in the mood for intellectual conversation tonight, so upon seeing Harry taking up your seat, you had told Adam you’d continue the discussion at a later date and returned to your spot.
“Thanks,” Harry mumbles as his gaze flits around the room. He wasn’t sure if you were actually complimenting him, but he would take it as one either way.
The rest of your friends are all up and about, drinking, talking, dancing. It was the usual house party scene: a relatively intimate gathering, music you all actually liked, some friends of friends feeling slightly out of place. There was no pressure in this type of gathering but still Harry wasn’t necessarily in the party mood tonight. Usually, Harry was the one instigating these types of get-togethers with his friends and bandmates. He liked to be the life of the party, but as the tour loomed closer and closer, he felt some tinge of longing for quiet and solitude. He knew he wouldn’t have much quiet while on the road, which mostly didn’t scare him. He loved the stage and the high he received from performing and the gratification he felt from all the people in the room being there to see him. But there was also that other part of him that liked the quiet, the privacy. As the lack of alone time nudged itself around the corner, he had been hoping to enjoy solitude, or at the very least peace before he was on the road. Some sort of blissful state before technical chaos ensued. When Charlotte, the host of tonight’s soiree, had texted their group chat about tonight, Harry had politely declined. Then came the slew of private texts from Charlotte giving him all the reasons he should come tonight. He tried to say no again, but had shown up after the continued begging from her.
His appearance mirrored his expression, choosing a not perfectly fitted white t-shirt and random trousers rather than picking something he really loved, like usual. You could tell something was up and as his friend you were wondering what was wrong with him.
“Don’t sound so excited, Harry, someone might mistake you for somebody who’s happy to be here.” You stick your tongue into the side of your cheek, gauging his reaction.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re not very funny?” He quips, green eyes flashing to meet yours.
Your banter is probably how the pair of you communicated the best, never really falling into the whole serious side of friendship. You never shared those late night talks about the future or your fears. It was a fun friendship, so you didn’t fancy yourself one of his closest confidants. When it came to music, you and Harry were a bit more serious which formed a sort of paradox because the music you would share with each other gave a far greater insight into your souls than you probably realized. As a member of his band, you would discuss his music and what was going on with that sort of business part. But the sharing and discussion of other music that you did was part of your friendship, even if you didn’t see it like that. Because of the countless albums you had recommended to each other and the specific songs you had made note of, Harry and you knew each other much better than you thought you did. Music connects to something deep inside yourself and you have to like it enough and know the other person well enough to believe that they will also enjoy it to recommend it. As much tongue and cheek that you partook in with Harry, deep down, unbeknownst to either of you, you were that friend he shared his hopes and fears with, through the way he knew best, music.
“No, most people find me hilarious...”
You take a sip of your drink, trying to cover up the sting that his remark actually left. Most of the time you were great at keeping up with anyone’s banter, especially Harry’s, but tonight you weren’t feeling it. His tone had sounded so harsh it almost sounded like he meant it. His features soften when he sees the way your face falls, despite your sarcastic tone.
“‘M sorry. I’m just not in the best mood tonight. Didn’t want to come, but Charlotte…” He shifts to face you, arm retracting slightly around the couch, landing his hand at the edge of your shoulder. His fingers fiddle with themselves absentmindedly, he turns his rings around his fingers and they ever so slightly brush against your shoulder. You don’t mind, you know its his nervous tick that he did whenever he didn’t have something to clink them against.
“Yeah, same here, actually.” Your tuck an out of place hair behind your ear, returning your gaze to Harry, who’s tilting his head at you curiously. “But might as well make the most of it, though. After all, this is our last week before tour starts.” You raise your glass and tilt it towards him before taking a sip.
You really didn’t have a plan, you were just trying to make him feel a little better. It was seldom you saw him so solemn at this type of gathering. He usually was the one bouncing from group to group, entertaining everyone with his dazzling charm and quick wit. Sometimes he would bring a date and spend the night with them in the corner, but that was usually at bigger parties than this. At these types of gatherings you often found yourself talking with Charlotte for most of the night. You were both new additions in the band and you had clicked immediately. You would travel in a pair between different groups and talk with everyone. Sometimes you would tell a humorous anecdote about your life and everyone would laugh wholeheartedly. Your ability to retell a story and make it hilarious every time seemed to be your secret talent. You could make any experience into a ten-minute retelling and it always sounds like the funniest moment of your life. It ranged from your embarrassing audition for Grease as a tween to your supermarket run in with an old acquaintance or B-list celebrity the day before. It didn’t matter what it was, it just always had the entire circle of people laughing and wiping their eyes with joy. You’d laugh a little with themselves, but usually you just had a triumphant smile on your lips for the rest of the night.
He nods, sipping his own drink for the first time since you had settled down beside him. “Well, I’m all ears.”
“What?”
“Give me your suggestions on how to make the most of tonight.”
“Drinking, mostly, was my plan,” you laugh nervously as Harry continues to stare at you intently.
“Mostly?”
“I mean, what do you want me to say? I didn’t think to pack my bouncy castle, my bad.”
He bites back a laugh but lets some air escape his defined nose, before staring with a deadpan face at you.
You like to tease him. You simply liked him. Harry was different from other men you knew. You were pretty sure most people could say that though. Harry was just different. It seemed like no one could not have some sort of affection for him. With the playful friendship the pair of you had, you always skirted the edge of flirtation. But you also didn’t particularly ever want to cross any lines with him. He was the employer of you, technically. He had brought you into his backing band and you wouldn’t do anything to harm that position. As well, at the end of the day you knew Harry. His tendencies and the choices he made.
When you were around him at parties like this, you had to try really hard to keep him at an arm’s length. Because on one hand, you would drink and suddenly the boundaries you put up didn’t seem that important, instead his lips started to look rather inviting, but on the other, you knew that he was extremely emotionally closed off to any relationship that was more than either friendship or a one night stand.
Harry doesn’t give you a response, just swings back his drink. The pair of you sit and drink in silence. Before you know it, Harry and you are five drinks in, finally talking after the second. The pair of you decide to move to the balcony outside and continue your conversation there after the third. After the fourth, you're getting really handsy and by the end of the fifth, Harry’s arm is wrapped tightly around your waist and you're laughing breathlessly into his neck. It looks like he’s just shielding you from the cold night air, but both of you seemed to be enjoying each other’s embrace for other reasons.
Finally catching your breath, you lean back and pant softly as you meet eyes with Harry. His pupils have blown out from the alcohol and dark light. The emerald green barely surrounds the black and you swear there’s flecks of gold or maybe brown in them. Your brows scrunch at the revelation and Harry asks what you’re thinking. You don’t respond, too entranced and drunk to even hear him.
“Oi,” he bops your nose, “What is goin’ on in there, little lady?”
Your hand reaches up and widens Harry’s eye manually. His inebriated state has no qualms about you doing such an odd thing. “Why’s your green not actually green?”
“What?” He asks before moving your hand away from his face, it instead falls to his chest. The pair of you shift until your caged between his body and the balcony’s ledge. You pout as you stare up at him. His skin looks soft and taught over every inch of his face and neck. The urge to kiss him keeps nagging at the back of your mind. The idea keeps creeping up closer and closer and the drunker you are the less likely you are to suppress it.
“Do you want to fuck me?” You blurt out.
“Sure.” Harry isn’t taken aback. He had been thinking about asking for a while, so he was glad you had asked first, made it easier for him.
“Okay, let’s go.”
He takes you back to your place, the pair of you catching a cab the short distance between yours and Charlotte’s flats. No one blinks an eye at the pair of you leaving together. Everyone watched the pair of you sulk all night about being there and only enjoying the other’s company, so they weren’t keen on either of you staying. Charlotte was simply glad the pair of you had stayed for as long as you did.
The two of you walk casually until you’re inside your bedroom. Once inside, Harry throws you on the bed and fucks you. Hard. He’s got you spread out in more ways than you had ever thought possible. He’s got you saying things you had never even dreamed of saying. And he’s got you cumming and screaming more than you could have ever wanted. He enjoys himself as well. He loves the way you feel around him and the way your eyes look up at him while he fucks you straight into the bed. He loves the way you sound whispering dirty things and screaming his name. He loves the feel of your soft skin all over your body as he pushes deep inside you. He loves the way you’re able to rip a guttural moan from him every time he cums. And he cums three times that night. While it wasn’t quiet, he did find that blissful state he had been in desperate need of.
After the third round, Harry feels spent. He brings himself into a sitting position, legs hanging off the edge of your bed. You’re lying in your bed, completely overstimulated, cumming at least twice as many times as Harry. He scratches at the top of his head, his bicep bulging as he folds his arms around himself.
“That was fucking good, Y/N. Just what I needed.”
You can only hum in response.
Then he takes your blanket and lays it over you. After that he begins to stand up, getting ready to grab his things and go.
“You don’t have to go…” your voice raises when you realize what he’s doing.
“Yeah, I do. This was just a one time thing, yeah? I enjoyed it, but you know...”
“Erm, I guess?” You rolled to fully look at him, he was pulling his t-shirt back on now, his marked chest disappearing beneath the white fabric. “Do you really not stay over at your one night stands?”
He thinks about it as he begins with his shoes and his glasses at the same time. “Yes? Usually I don’t know the person and I don’t particularly want to sign an autograph when I leave in the morning. Best to leave immediately afterwards.”
“That was exactly why I wanted you to stay...Shit! No chance you’ll give me an autograph now? Could sign my tit, right next to your hickies.”
He laughs, automatically in a better mood after the catharsis of having sex. It was also a relief for him that you didn’t seem to be weird about the hook up. “Shut up!”
“You’re a twat, Harold.” He groans instinctively at the annoying nickname, not caring about the ‘twat’ part. “But be my guest, you can freeze your arse off while waiting for your cab outside at this hour.”
“Rude..” He mutters, standing in your doorway now. “You wouldn’t actually make your employer stand out in the cold at this time of night. I haven’t even got a jumper. Could get a cold and ruin my voice. ”
“You’re the one who says it’s best to leave immediately. Get on it, mister.”
Your hand makes a shooing movement, but he doesn’t budge. You sigh as he makes a puppy dog face - eyes wide and a puckered pout with his flushed cheeks and lips - playing into your actual kindness, that he knows is somewhere. Your sweetness that you were keeping hidden from Harry right now. Nothing was serious between you so it made sense that you were trying not to let your innate ability to care show as he’s about to walk out on you.
“Ugh, fine. Stop looking at me like that. Just grab one of my coats from the bottom right, they’re all oversized so one should fit.” He doesn’t relent on the face. “And you can stay inside until your cab comes.” You sigh and throw one of your pillows at him. He catches it easily and throws it back, much softer than your throw. “Also never pull the employer card on me again when I’m naked in the bed you just fucked me in,” you call as he looks through your closet.
Returning with a patchwork coat you had thrifted tight over his shoulders, he looks at you seriously, “Yeah sorry about that part. Definitely wasn’t trying to exert my power over you, it sounded better in my head. Meant more like you could ruin my voice and both of our jobs.”
You nod and chuckle slightly, finding how inarticulate Harry could be as an endearing trait. His explanation didn’t actually make it sound better. “The jacket fits.” You say, choosing to move forward from Harry’s weirdness, knowing he didn’t mean any harm from his initial statement.
“Yeah, thanks. I think my cab is here,” He glances at his phone, “So I’ll go...See you?”
“I’m sure.” You smile, “We do in fact work together and will soon be touring the world. Would be a bit weird if I didn’t see you.”
“Right.” He nods and adds a peace sign before he walks out of your sight. You know he’s gone when you hear the door click shut. What an interesting night.
-
Love on Tour had just started and Harry couldn’t lie. He couldn’t keep his mind off of you. You were both his most recent partner and the best he had had in a while. He found himself rubbing over the spots on his neck and clavicle that you had given particular attention to during the night you had shared together. When he went to bed it was your body he pictured to get himself off. So, after the first show he’s beelining to you at the beginning of the after party. He’s got an adrenaline high and he needs a release. You’re the solution. He’s whispering in your ear, asking if you’d like to meet him in his dressing room. Your eyes study his face when he pulls back and they widen slightly when the realization of what he’s implying dawns on you. Then you’re nodding and excusing yourself from a random conversation five minutes later.
Inside Harry’s dressing room, you find Harry already unbuttoning his shirt. He grabs your face and shoves his lips onto yours once you lock the door. As he kisses you he tries to make one thing very clear, “This doesn’t mean anything.”
“Got it.” You begin to finish Harry’s job of taking off his shirt.
He pulls back to look you in the eye, “Are you okay with that?”
“Jesus fuck, yes, Harry, just shut up and fuck me senseless again!”
He listens to you and begins to kiss down your jaw and neck. His open-mouth kisses leave a searing trail across your skin. He settles on a spot at the base of your neck and begins to suck and nip at it with vigor. You set to work on finishing his job of unbuttoning his shirt. Then you pull off your own shirt, reaching behind you to untie the bows at the back. The new skin exposed grabs Harry’s attention and he moves down to suck over the cleavage of your tits. He’s happy to be back with his ‘bosom friends’. You smack his head when he says it and he chuckles darkly, only sucking harder on them causing you to moan louder than you would like.
Once you’re both in only your underwear, you find your back pressed up against the mirror behind the dressing room counter. Harry’s body is nestled between your spread legs as he kisses down your skin. His fingers dance along the line of your thong as he looks up from beneath his lashes for position, you only push his head closer to your heat in response. He laughs mischievously before tugging them down off your hips.
“Missed this pretty little cunt...All I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout,” He mutters as he begins to latch onto your dripping core.
Your brows shoot up at the thought that Harry’s mind has been stuck on you for the past week. You definitely had thought about your drunken hook up a bit, but hadn’t thought it had left a lasting impression on Harry, you assumed he had that lovely of a night with every person he chose to spend intimate time with. These thoughts are forgotten when Harry’s warm tongue is lapping at your swollen bud. You’re already panting for Harry and now you’re heaving with moans and whimpers leaving your mouth with every lick and nip of his expert mouth.
“Fuck Harry, feels so good,” you whine as his tongue travels down your folds and swirls and dips into your hole.
He moans at your words and the way your legs squeeze at his head. His hands move to spread you open wide to maintain his control and he smirks at the way your body rolls due to the friction of his voice against your pussy.
“Be a good girl f’me,” he growls still pressed against your wet heat.
Your body rolls again as you get closer and closer to your first release. Your bite your lip trying to contain all of the sounds that are trying to escape your mouth. Harry notices the new silence and glances up seeing how you’re trying to behave. As much as he likes you obeying his words, he also wanted to hear how he was pleasuring you.
“Tell me how you feel, princess,” he demands.
“So-so good,” you hiccup as his fingers caress over your folds now as he looks you in the eyes, his lips wet with your slick. He kisses you hard, his tongue diving into your mouth and you kiss back passionately, loving your taste on his tongue.
He pulls back and your hands trail down his chest, swirling around his familiar tattoos and hair that grace his lower torso as you move. He grins, enjoying the feeling of you on him and how he was affecting you.
Soon enough, his cock is finding its way back to your glistening folds, wet with your own liquids as well as his saliva. His mouth waters at the sight. He only pushes into you a few times like this. Then he catches sight of himself in the mirror in front of him and can’t resist. He pulls out and flips you over, your squeal leaving your mouth before you can stop yourself. His dick finds your entrance once again, not wanting to be without the wonderful warmth for any longer than he must.
“Ahhh,” Harry groans when he slips back inside.
Your head throws back on your neck, the feeling of him as well as the sight of him gripping your hair in one hand and your fleshy hip in the other. His rings dig into the skin as he’s able to slam more forcefully in this position. You gasp and whine at his motions. The sounds coming from between your legs are turning you on even more and they seem to make Harry happy too. He picks up the pace and drops the grasp of your hair for a second. Your head falls down as you try to keep yourself up on your elbows.
Gripping both of your hips, Harry growls, “Look at me while I fuck you. C’mon now.”
You moan in response and tear your eyes open to see your reflections in the mirror. One hand goes up to hold onto the mirror to give yourself more traction, causing your back to arch even more. The new position has Harry’s cock slamming into you deeper.
“Fuck!” Harry practically yells and can’t keep himself from landing a harsh slap on your ass. You jump forward at the sting but his other hand keeps the pace steady. He keeps burying himself into you all the way to his base, his balls slapping at your now slick spread thighs. He rubs over the red handprint he had just left on your ass. You whimper and bite your lip, truly enjoying the sensation.
Still staring into the mirror as Harry commanded, your eyes water slightly and Harry makes eye contact with you through the mirror. You smile widely and he grins back. “This feels so fucking good. Your pussy takes me so well. Fuck…” Harry babbles, still pistoning into you. You had noticed how vocal he was the first time you had fucked, but thought it had just been the alcohol. Apparently not. But you didn’t mind, you much preferred it to partners who barely spoke or didn’t even moan. Like how were you supposed to know what was going on in their minds? With Harry, you knew he was having a good time.
A few more heavy thrusts and you felt yourself nearing the edge. Your panting was getting faster, exceeding the speed of Harry’s thrusts and he could also feel you were close. Your cunt began squeezing him tighter so he hooked a hand under your knee and brought it onto the table. He hunched over you slightly and snaked his hand to your clit. “C’mon darling, I know you're close. Can feel that little cunt putting a choke hold on my cock.” He rubs at your clit with the vigor of strumming a quick paced song on the guitar. It’s enough to overtake your senses and the laugh that had bubbled from his words turns into your orgasm moan. You try to muffle it into the arm that is holding you against the mirror to avoid a full on scream because it feels that good. You felt like you were having your first ever orgasm, it felt that new to you.
A few more thrusts and you’ve come down from it, but Harry still hasn’t finished. It’s your turn to be the partner coaxing the other to get off. “Faster, Har. Want you to cum too.” He grunts, picking back up the pace. He had slowed to let you ride out your stay. “That’s it...want you to cum in me. Your cock feels so fucking good.” You whine, meaning every word. He smiles again at you and closes his eyes, focusing on chasing his high. You watch as his smile widens to that open mouth grin, “Fuck,” he almost whispers. And there it is. There’s a twitch in his hips that mirrors his expression and then he’s pulling out and cumming on your back. His voice is now even lower and raspier than before as he babbles how good that was and how tight your pussy was. It was sweet nothings, but extremely explicit and you sighed heavily, feeling a small orgasm wash over you again. His final thrusts and voice pushing you off the cliff again easily.
The two of you take a minute to bring your breathing back to normal and Harry goes to clean your back off.
“So..how do you feel about maybe doing this regularly?” Harry asks sheepishly as he begins to pull his pants back on.
“Like a friends with benefits kind of thing? Or bandmates with benefits, rather.” You laugh breathlessly at your not really funny joke, but you’re now truly exhausted. From the show and the fuck, you felt thouroughly worked out.
“I guess that’s what it is, yeah.”
“Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”
“You’re honestly so chill, Y/N. It’s fuckin’ hot.”
You laugh and flip your hair dramatically. You’re only in your bra and panties right now and Harry licks his lips, finding your playfulness to be a turn on. “What can I say?” You laugh.
“But like I said before...it’s just sex.” He’s buttoning up his shirt and looking at your reflection through the mirror now. He watches you slip the pants you had been wearing back on.
“Oh, Harold, I know.” On cue, he groans and turns around to face you after fixing his mused hair in the mirror. Interrupting yourself, you turn your back to Harry, “Can you tie this, sorry it’s hard for me to get the -” Harry walks to you without any hesitation and begins tying the silk ribbons on the back of your shirt. “Thanks. Anyway,” you turn to face him when he’s finished and you place both of your palms on his chest. “Trust me, I know you’ve got your issues and I’m not looking to be the girl that tries to change you. I know what this is. I only ask that you let me know when you sleep with other people, because once you do, you won’t need me.” Harry nods and you pat your hands against him. You both smile and go your separate ways when you leave the dressing room.
-
Harry and you fucked almost every night on tour. Sometimes it was right after, on the counter in his dressing rooms. Sometimes it was later in the evening in his hotel room or yours. He stopped leaving immediately after your hook ups. He never kicked you out of his room so he decided it was fine for him to stay in yours. Especially because you weren’t a stranger who would be weird with him in the morning. He also didn’t like trekking through the hotel halls late at night.
The first few times you stayed in the same bed, the two of you stayed on opposite sides of the bed, not touching after you were finished engaging in your sexual endeavours. Rigid bodies against the edges of the mattress. Then one particularly long night, filled with multiple rounds, Harry was so exhausted from his performance on stage and off that he collapsed on top of you. He fell asleep there and you didn’t particularly mind. It felt nice to be slightly compressed and held. He shifted in his sleep and when he woke up he wasn’t upset to find you nestled into his side with his arms wrapped around you. After that, cuddling sort of became part of the routine. After you were done having sex, Harry or you would get up to clean up and bring back waters. Then you would settle in his arms. Sometimes in a spooning position and sometimes you cradled softly into his chest. You didn’t talk about it, it just happened.
One night it was your head directly on top of his butterfly tattoo, one leg thrown over his lower torso and your arm snuggly wrapped around his middle. He liked to pet your hair when you laid against his chest in that way. His fingers would fiddle with the strands and you liked it because he usually took off his rings before he would do it and his hands felt so soft and delicate against you. Harry liked the way he felt when he would hold you afterwards. It was calming to fall asleep against your soft skin and feel your fingertips trace lyrics to songs he wasn’t sure the name of against his own.
No one knew about how your friendship with Harry worked. To the rest of the world, you seemed to be someone who had become another close friend in the band. You were similar to Mitch in many respects. Except for when Harry winked at you during a show, it wasn’t a friendly wink, it was a ‘this song makes me horny and I can’t wait to relieve the pressure by fucking you later’ kind of wink. You knew this because Harry had gone over and whispered it in your ear during a quick break, when you had only looked at him weirdly after he did it.
Before the show tonight, you pulled Harry aside, “So what are we thinking tonight? I feel like I might want to ride you...Haven’t been on top in a while.” In the darkness of the backstage, you crane your neck to take Harry’s earlobe between your teeth. He groans softly and grips your hips to guide them against his for a second. “Sounds fuckin’ fantastic, love.” You twitch back, releasing him immediately at the word. You always told him not to call you that and he tried to reason with you, that it was just something he called people. But you disliked it a lot, adding it to the growing list of rules the pair of you had for the do’s and don'ts of being friends with benefits with each other.
“Harold,” you groan and he steps back at that pet name. While he hated this, you refused to let him put it on the list because it didn’t cross any lines with your physical arrangement. Not that there was any physical list to put it on, it was more of a theoretical list that the two of you would speak of occasionally.
“Sorry.” He says eventually, “Didn’t mean it.” You both laugh.
You think about how other relationships were sometimes desperate to hear their partner express their love for them and you believe you’re grateful for the simplicity of your arrangement. The term relationship regarding what you and Harry were doing was also in the ‘don’t’ category on the list. If either of you were being honest, there should be no need for a list and you should be questioning yourselves why you felt the need to set boundaries if one part of it was physical and the other part was your friendship and job. If it truly was just physical why were boundaries constantly needing to be set and followed? But right now honesty was not in the cards.
-
After the show Harry gets delayed with press or fans or something that you don’t really care about. You barely read the text that he sends, only caring about the ‘sorry got held up’ and the ‘be there in thirty’.
You let yourself into his room and wait on the bed, flipping through your phone, completely unbothered by the rest of the world. When you hear a knock on the door, you don’t think twice about getting up and opening the door. You only realize your terrible mistake when it’s Mitch and not Harry standing at what you’re also just realizing isn’t your door, but instead Harry’s.
“Shit!” you say under your breath as Mitch looks at you confused.
The room is dark behind you because Harry would have just entered and gotten down to business. He might turn on a side lamp, but you hadn’t felt the need to have light on while you waited. Forgetting all of that, you had just gone to the door and opened it.
Mitch tucks some of his hair behind his ear as he stares at you. “Is Harry here?”
“Er..No?” It comes out as a question. You rub the back of your ankle with your foot, feeling nervous.
“Is he actually not here or?” Mitch trails off, narrowing his eyes at you.
“No, no he’s really not here. I’m waiting for him, too.” You rush your words, but try to remain calm.
“You have a key to his room. And you’re waiting in the dark.” He says. They’re not questions and you’re not sure just how guilty you look.
“Yeah!” You try to come up with a non suspicious response, hoping there’s a way to still salvage your’s and Harry’s secret, “He gave me his key because he wanted to talk about something and I kept it dark because my eyes always hurt after shows. Kind of like a migraine.” You scratch at your head and smile, trying to convince Mitch. He seems to believe you as he nods slowly and opens his eyes more.
There’s a little bit of an awkward silence and Mitch shifts his weight between his feet, looking at you still. Just as you're about to invite Mitch to come wait inside with you, Harry steps out of the elevator and begins to walk down the hall. His key card is already in hand and your eyes widen. Harry’s expression mirrors yours when he realizes Mitch is standing outside of his door and that you are standing with him. “Mitch!” Harry says, placing his hand on Mitch’s shoulder and sliding his key card into his back pocket with the other. Mitch turns to Harry without seeing him put away the other key card and you look at the pair of them.
“I was just telling Mitch how you gave me your key card so we could talk about...that thing.” You interject, flicking the lights on in Harry’s room as casually as possible. Harry shoots you a look about how you couldn’t come up with an actual reason for being there. You shrug your shoulders helplessly.
Mitch looks between the two of you and feels some weird tension and he’s not sure if it's always there and he’s just noticing or if something is going on right now.
“Yeah, well, I came to stop by to talk about the riff in Canyon Moon. Something is wonky with it.”
“Oh! Sure,” Harry nods to Mitch and then glances at you, “Y/N, we can talk about that other thing later. It’s not that important anyway.” His tone is so casual and nonchalant. You stare at him, thinking he can’t be serious. You had been almost sure he would send Mitch away, but instead you were being kicked to the curb. When he doesn’t say sike or anything of the sort, you nod. “Okay,” then you mumble a ‘good luck’ with figuring out the problem with the song. Mitch walks in the door, but Harry’s eyes stay fixed on your figure retreating down the hallway. He watches you disappear and is only pulled from his thoughts when Mitch calls his name from the couch in the room.
After reaching your floor, you key into your room and get ready for bed. Just as you’re about to drift off to sleep, completely alone for once in a long time, there’s another knock. This time you check the peephole, a habit you realized you were going to have to get better at. It’s Harry. You open the door and walk away immediately once he’s entered the room.
“Why are you here?”
“Thought we could still...” He follows you into the room, trying to make out your face in the darkness.
“I’m not in the mood anymore.” Your tone gives away your annoyance. You couldn’t hide that you were mad at Harry for sending you away. It made you feel weird. The way he did it so easily made you feel like you were extremely disposable and unwanted.
“I’m sorry,” he sighs as he lays down beside you. You turn to face him when he places a hand on the small of your back. You’re face to face and your noses are almost brushing. It’s not really possible to see each other’s features, but after months of hooking up you knew each other’s faces pretty well. You could reach out and pinpoint all of Harry’s freckles and moles on his face and neck right now and be correct. He could likely do the same. The theory is proven correct when he reaches out and his hand dances down your cheek. “Just thought it would be less suspicious if I didn’t get rid of him. Couldn’t make him wait either…”
“I know,” your voice is small and soft, just above a whisper, “I forgive you.” You scoot closer to him and Harry instinctively wraps his arm around you, bringing you tightly into him. You sigh into his neck and he shivers at your warm breath on his slightly clammy skin. When you lick your lips, they brush lightly against his skin. He laughs at the feeling, so you decide to press an intentional kiss to the hollow in his neck. In response, he presses a kiss to your hairline, his lips slightly chapped after the concert.
The kisses are tender, filled with that thing neither of you dare attribute to anything the two of you did in the dark. The word you told him time and time again to not call you. So is just about every touch and word that has been exchanged in this room since Harry entered it. You fall asleep wrapped up in his arms, a soft smile resting on both of your faces. Neither of you seem to mind that you didn’t actually have sex tonight or anything even close to it.
-
When you wake up you feel especially well rested. You shift around and realize your bed is empty besides you. It depended on the day, but it was always a toss up between Harry being there when you woke up or not. However, lately, you had found it was usually the former. You would linger longer and so would Harry in each other’s rooms, lounging in each other’s embrace under the soft glow of the morning light peaking through whatever windows the room had. Today you were cold at his absence. Then you look up and realize you aren’t completely alone. Harry is standing at the end of your bed, staring down at his phone, smiling.
“Hey.”
You wait for his reply, but he doesn’t look up from his phone. “Hey, Harold,” you repeat. His head snaps up, a grimace on his face at the name. He slips his phone in his pocket and ruffles his hair. “Hey.” He finally responds. “I’m gonna head out.”
“Okay.”
Neither of you seem to find it necessary to talk about what happened last night. Harry definitely seemed a little off to you this morning, but you try to shake it from your thoughts. There was no reason to be upset with him being quiet. He didn’t owe you anything, you hadn’t even slept together last night, so if anything it was weird he stayed as long as he did.
It was the second night at the Forum in Los Angeles. This means no travelling necessary. No day off either, tomorrow you’d have a day off before the third and final show at the venue though.
Harry and you were talking normally at the venue, mostly about the setlist - him and Mitch had changed something for whatever reason last night, which was fine. Your banter was to a minimum, but you were trying to convince yourself that nothing was off. Even though it felt like something was different, you couldn’t place your finger on what it was, so you thought it was best to ignore it.
When Harry is about to go out on stage, you don’t pull him aside and when he introduces the members of the band to the audience, he doesn’t say anything fun or silly about you. He doesn’t wink or come up to you at any point in the performance. It’s so unusual the rest of your bandmates are giving you funny looks. Charlotte looks at you from across your keyboard in a way that she’s asking if you’re okay. You shake your head at everyone trying to signal that you’re fine.
Mitch goes over to Harry and whispers in his ear to check in with him, Harry looks at him with a bright smile on his face and says “of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Mitch looks between the pair of you, thinking back to last night and how weird the pair of you were being then. Maybe it dawns on him then what might be going on between the two of you, but if he did, he wouldn’t mention it for a long time.
You falter a bit on your back up vocals tonight. You’re trying to give it your all, like always, but for some reason your voice isn’t sounding the way you want it. About halfway through the show, when your voice comes out the exact opposite of how you would like, Harry finally gives you a second glance. His face practically emotionless, save for the single arched brow. He’s concerned, but not concerned enough where he would go over to you. He just doesn’t understand why you keep missing the right note tonight. You make a shake of your hand to say I don’t know either. He just shrugs and turns back around to continue the show, his lively smile returning while he turns his head.
After the show, Charlotte, Sarah, and you are all checking in, going over what had happened during the show in general. They’re both worried about your voice and you’re simply trying to tell them that it was just an off night. Nothing was wrong. As long as you told everyone else that, then it might turn out to be true.
“It’s fine, maybe I didn’t get enough sleep last night,” you fib, having gotten more sleep last night than most other nights on this tour. They both nod, seeming to take that as a reasonable answer.
Then Charlotte gets quieter as she whispers to the three of you, “Did you guys notice anything weird with Harry? He was super lively, but he barely interacted with you, Y/N, which is so unlike him...”
Sarah nods while you look skeptically on. Sarah adds, “He kept looking up to the boxes, too. More than usual at least. I don’t know though…” She trails off and you cross your arms over your chest, not really enjoying the conversation topic. “I mean, what do you think, Y/N?” Sarah adds.
Your eyes dance between the two women, your fellow bandmates, your friends. You sometimes wished you could share with them what you were doing with Harry. The secret was fun, but it’s also nice to be able to share with your girlfriends about the guy you’re seeing, even if it is a casual thing. The friendly gossip of it all is something fun to share, but sadly that was another thing you couldn’t do. You sigh, “You never really know what’s going on in his mind, y’know. He’s just Harry.” Your response is half-assed at best. You figure they’ll both give you shit for the non-answer you just supplied, but instead someone else speaks for them.
“I am in fact, just Harry.” He says and you swivel around to find yourself almost chest to chest with him. Charlotte laughs while Sarah simply smiles. Your eyes are huge as you stare up at him and you hope your blush doesn’t come out too strongly after being caught talking about Harry by himself. “Enlighten me on when I was being ‘just Harry’ though?” You bite your lip and take a step back from him, forming more of a line with the other women. He shrugs when no one offers a response, laughing lightly.
“Oh and Y/N, I can’t talk about that thing again tonight, I’ve got-”
“A date?” Charlotte asks, trying to understand why Harry was acting a little different tonight still. The part that Sarah had mentioned about him looking up into the boxes had given her the idea that he might have plans with someone after the show. Harry scratches his head, his hair slightly wet with sweat right after the show. He’s taken off his coat so he’s just in the almost completely unbuttoned, sweat soaked shirt he had been wearing underneath. It sticks tight to his skin and you can make out all the muscle lines that hide beneath the fabric that you usually get to caress. Your eyes flit from his body back to his face when he speaks again.
“Erm, I wasn’t going to phrase it like that...but yes, I suppose, it’s a date.” He says finally, he avoids your eye contact and you look at him very confused, trying to hide the hurt. He shoves his hands in his pockets trying to look and sound as casual as possible and ignore the strain he sees on your face. Is that what had held him up yesterday? Making plans with someone else? And he hadn’t told you until now? The past twenty four hours stung a little bit more now that you knew why Harry was being so distant. It simply felt icky finding out this way and it didn’t even seem like he was going to tell you it was a date.
“Okay,” you say simply and walk away. You hear Charlotte asking him details about his date, but you try actively not to hear any of it. Sarah watches you walk away and sees the way you wrap your arms around yourself to comfort you. She feels a twinge of sadness as she watches the scene unfold, seeing something she hadn’t realized was there before.
Harry doesn’t text or call you that night. You hang out with everyone else for a little while in Charlotte’s room before heading to bed, saying you think you need an early night tonight. Before you’re able to walk out of the door, Mitch stops you. “I heard Harry blew off whatever conversation the two of you have been trying to have again. Just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” You try to smile but it comes out as more of a grimace. There is no conversation Harry is blowing off, it’s simply you. “It’s fine. Like he said yesterday, it’s not important.” Mitch nods, but still looks at you with concern. What he had seen last night, then on stage today, and what Sarah had told him about your interaction after the show it all strung together in his mind. It didn’t seem unimportant at all. But he didn’t know how he could tell you that. He felt like he should talk to Harry about the way you looked when you left Charlotte’s room tonight, but he didn’t know how to bring it up to him either.
You don’t realize you’re crying until you're in the elevator, and it’s slowly rising to your floor of the hotel. You’re only one level up, but it feels like an eternity in there. You already weren’t a fan of elevators, but this ride felt impossibly worse. The walls are all made up of mirrors and you see yourself in the reflection, but you don’t exactly recognize the girl in there. Your eyes are tired from the show, dark circles already formed. Your hands are aching, clenching and unclenching on their own accord. Your body is slumped against the back wall, likely leaving a slight imprint from the smoke residue and dust on your clothes. Worst of all are the tears running down your face, smudging at your makeup, the black mascara you had applied dripping down in sinister raindrops against your skin. The sad girl stares back at you as you sniffle slightly, confused at what you’re seeing. “Why are you crying?” you ask yourself, your voice creaking and then breaking at the end as you struggle to get out the word ‘crying’ before a sob wracks through you. You roll your eyes when your reflection offers no explanation for itself. You laugh at your own patheticness and try to shake the feelings you’re experiencing.
Inside your room now, you flop on the bed and stare straight up at the ceiling. Your arms spread to your sides and your legs lay limply below you. You think about every night before last, every night since the tour started. Every night where you weren’t alone, where you were with Harry. Your mind flits to last night, how Harry’s lips had ghosted over your skin after his apology. How you had told him you forgave him and it had felt so peaceful, so simple. It was all so easy. Thinking about him and the things the two of you did together brought a smile to your face, unbeknownst to you. When you realize it’s there, your face drops immediately, deciding not to think about Harry.
But trying to not think about Harry makes you only think about him more and what you think about him now most definitely doesn’t bring a smile to your face. You’re thinking about him out on his date with some person you chose to learn nothing about. Maybe out of fear of what is happening right now. By knowing nothing about the person, you can’t compare yourself to them. Can’t see what’s different about them that would make Harry go out on a date with them. But it doesn’t matter who they are or what they look like because at the end of it all you know one thing for certain. They’re not you. You correct yourself, you know two things actually, because you also know that Harry chose to be with them instead of you tonight.
You fall asleep with tear stained cheeks that night and absolutely nothing positive on your mind. You want to sleep but know it only brings whatever is bound to happen tomorrow, which doesn’t seem very promising.
-
It’s noon when you wake up and you wake to a knocking on your door. You grumble and throw a sweatshirt over your body to hide the underwear you slept in. Not remembering your new habit, you swing the door open without any hesitation to find Harry. He looks wide awake and happy, the way he almost always looks, a fresh beautiful flower of a man. You look at him groggily, “What are you doing here?”
“You weren’t answering your phone.”
“Because I was asleep?” You tilt your head and look at him incredulously. “What about this,” you gesture to your appearance, “looks like I just went for a 3 mile jog for fun and I love the morning?”
“Can I come in?” He ignores everything you just said and enters the room when you leave the door to get back in bed. You often did that with him, you don’t know why, but when he asked to come in the room it was just simpler to let him in then say anything. He knew what you meant.
He sits at the edge of the bed as you reclaim your spot in the middle of it, tucked slightly under the covers, but still sitting up. “How was your date?” You try to sound nonchalant and it seems to work. Harry doesn’t notice your tense figure, but you notice how he tenses up when you ask.
“Good…Her name was-” You don’t let him finish, you already know the answer to this next question and you don’t need her name in order to ask it, “Did you fuck her?”
He’s silent, green eyes staring straight at you. You meet his gaze, your eyes almost burning holes into him. His eyes are begging you to not make him answer the question, he doesn’t want this to end, even if he also didn’t want the commitment he had felt himself exhibiting the other night.
When he had come to your room the other night after Mitch had almost caught you, he knew he shouldn’t have stayed. He didn’t want you to feel bad so he had come to apologize, but when the pair of you didn’t have sex, he should have left. But he didn’t, he stayed and it wasn’t for you, it was for himself. It was for him to hold you in his arms because he liked to. But when he woke up the next morning he knew he needed to leave. Solely cuddling wasn’t part of your arrangement together. It’s probably on the list of don'ts that the pair of you had. So after he realized the line he had willingly crossed with you, he quickly sent a text to Jeff who had tried to set him up with a model they were acquaintances with the night before - the reason he had gotten held up. Harry had initially declined, not very interested in seeing anyone else but you. But looking back on that choice in the light of day seemed to solidify what this relationship was - a relationship - and Harry didn’t like that. The commitment wasn’t part of the plan, so he told Jeff to set that date up for after the second show at the Forum and give the woman a ticket. That’s why he was smiling at his phone the morning after only cuddling with you, that’s why he didn’t joke around with you during the show, and that’s why he wasn’t in your bed last night.
You watch him expectantly, silently waiting for his answer, your veins cold as ice. He finally starts his answer and he wants to make it clear that it wasn’t as good with the other woman, but he’s not sure how to work that part in. He’s not sure how to explain to you it meant nothing if your arrangement also apparently meant nothing. You barely even let him get in a sentence. “Yes, but it was just a one time-”
“Alright.”
“What?” He doesn’t understand what you mean when you nod your head and cut him off.
“I told you at the beginning, Harry. Tell me when you sleep with someone else because when you do this is over. It doesn’t matter if she’s the love of your life or a one night stand. I will not be a backup plan, so if you’re able to find other people to sleep with, you don’t need to be sleeping with me.”
He sits in silence for a moment, his jaw dropped open slightly. He’s unable to keep it shut as his mind races about what to say. “Are you mad with me?”
“No, I’m fine. This was just sex. Charlotte will be happy that I’ll be going out with her more.”
Harry’s brow furrows as you shift away from him on the bed, grabbing your phone and beginning to flick through it. You feel numb and you’d like to not think about why.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks because he does care about you, worry is written all over his face. He just can’t commit, not now.
“What would I be mad about, Harry?” You look up and your eyes widen at him, silently asking him to truthfully say why you should be so upset about this revelation. You always knew it would eventually come to an end, you just hadn’t expected so soon. You hadn’t known the last time would be the last time and it broke your heart even if you knew it shouldn’t.
He shifts to reach his hand out to touch your exposed knee. You move away from him and he sighs, looking exasperated. “I- I don’t know. It just seems like we should talk about this.”
“You didn’t even think it was necessary to tell me you were going on a date last night, so I think it’s best if we just left it at ‘it’s fine, see you around’.”
He spreads his hands out across the sheets, examining his rings and painted nails thoroughly. You’re right, he doesn’t really want to talk about this. Well, more so, he’s conflicted. He would like to talk enough that you want to continue your arrangement but he doesn’t want to talk about feelings or emotions. Even if he has those feelings and emotions, they’re just not part of the things he’d like to talk about. “But-” You set your phone down at his first word, “Were you even going to tell me you fucked someone else today if Charlotte hadn’t asked you if it was a date last night? Would you just have come to my room tonight and acted like nothing had changed?”
“I would have told you.”
“Sure.”
“I swear I would’ve. I would never break a promise to you.”
“But you would make a decision that affects the both of us without telling me until afterwards?” Your voice breaks a little and you beg yourself not to cry right now.
“I thought you said this was just sex?”
You laugh humorlessly, in disbelief, “Of course it’s not, Harry! And it hasn’t been for a long time and that’s why you got scared and went and fucked someone else.” He looks at you blankly, unsure what to say, knowing you’re right. You continue, “But I also told you at the beginning of this, that I wasn’t going to try to change you. So this is me not trying to change you.” You sigh when he still says nothing, his expression completely unreadable, even to you. “Why couldn’t you have left it at ‘it’s fine’?” You say finally, barely above a whisper.
He blinks a few times after your final question. He flexes his hand one more time and then stands up from the bed. He adjusts his clothes and stares at you. You feel helpless, but you’re still trying to look pulled together, even after your outburst. You stare back. A thousand words floating through your heads, all the things you want to say and likely never will.
“I know, I’m…” he pauses, trying to get himself to say it, but he can’t. He can’t admit that he’s completely ruined whatever messed up paradise you had created together. “I’ll see you later.”
The apology or lack there of hangs in the air as he walks silently out your door. You don’t move, you barely even blink, still staring at the spot he had just occupied. Your breath finally escapes you, a large sigh. Then some nervous laughter. It was over...just like that. But things like this, left like this are never really over.
-
It’s awkward for a good amount of the rest of the tour. You hang out with your bandmates more and Harry rarely ever comes out with them after the shows. He either hangs out with Mitch on his own or is going out with random people he knows on the road. You and him speak, but it’s never a lot or about anything relatively meaningful. It’s not the fun back and forth of before or the fiery heat of sneaking around. You try to be normal with him, act like his casual friend and bandmate.
He does his best to do the same, but it’s difficult for him. He doesn’t know how to talk to you anymore. He misses being with you, but can’t bring himself to fix it. He doesn’t do much to right his wrongs with you. He also doesn’t even know what he would want if he did apologize. It scared him to think about the step that came after ‘sorry’ so he saved himself the trouble and never did that part either. One night he texts you: “I’m trying, it’s just hard.” and that’s it. You don’t give him a response, he doesn’t need one. You know he’s trying and he knows you know.
Near the end of the tour, he comes out with the rest of you for drinks one night. Only Mitch is between the two of you in the booth, so you feel closer to Harry than you’ve felt in a long time. The group of you are chatting and having a good time. You somehow get onto a story from when you were still in college. You explain how you had narrowly avoided getting Chlamydia right before your Christmas break junior year. You act out the conversations you imagined would have happened at all your Christmas events if you had indeed gotten it. Your impressions of your mother, father, and sister have everyone laughing the most. Harry is shaking with laughter from your story and you smile at him in appreciation when he says, “That is the funniest story I’ve heard in a long fucking time.”
The rest of the night goes really well, for the most part. No one bickers or is short with each other. Everyone is laughing and drinks are flowing. Eventually Mitch gets up to go to the bathroom and you feel Harry slide back into the booth closer to you after letting Mitch out. Your hand had taken up residence next to your thigh, resting on the vinyl of the booth. You sense something next to it now and notice Harry’s hand is resting close beside it. He shifts his hand closer when he sees that you’re looking down at it. He’s almost touching you and you look up to his eyes, wondering if he’ll close the distance. He makes an imperceptible shake of his head, but you know what he means. As you’re about to shift your hand so that your pinky connects with his, Mitch returns and your head shoots up to his figure. You instantly remove your hand from the vinyl and shift closer to Charlotte. Harry gets up, but doesn’t sit back down once Mitch is settled. He instead walks off to get another drink, risking one last look at the table where he makes eye contact with you, but he doesn’t come back. Mitch informs everyone that Harry went back to the hotel because “he was tired” after Harry doesn’t return and Mitch gets a text. You roll your eyes, sure that you saw him slip out of the side door with a woman he found at the bar after he had gotten his drink. If that’s what ‘tired’ looked like on Harry, it was fine.
You start to speak to Harry on a more regular basis after that night out. It’s not funny or lighthearted. It’s just ‘I saw this song the other day, thought you might like to listen’. It went back and forth, it wasn’t everyday but it was something. The last text between the two of you before you began sharing songs again was his ‘I’m trying it’s just hard’ text that he had sent randomly one night. Then after one of you would listen, you would see each other at sound check and mention the song and what you thought about it. It can be noted that it was Harry who sent the first song.
For Harryween, Adam couldn’t be there. He has some family emergency the day of and doesn’t come with the rest of you to Madison Square Garden or the hotel you were staying at. Thankfully, Charlotte also plays keys and you can play bass. The band had to shift around some things on stage and make minimal changes to the setlist since you weren’t rehearsed on the covers Harry was doing. You spent the whole day running through the chords of those songs with Mitch, trying to memorize them so you didn’t mess it up during the show.
It was weird because for Harryween the setlist was switched up a little from the regular set for Love On Tour. Harry was playing the entire new album as well as half of the first album, Medicine, some of his other unreleased stuff, and about six covers, including old One Direction songs. It was going to be a long show and a challenge for you.
Before the show, Harry pulls you aside, to a dark corner backstage, and your mind flits back to the last time you had been in this type of position. The last time he had called you ‘love’, the last time you bit his earlobe - which always drove him crazy, the last time he ground his hips against yours, those and more and you had no idea that it was the last. By then you had already had sex with Harry for the last time, kissed his lips for the last time. It made your heart race to be so close to him and so alone once again. But it’s nowhere near the same as it once was. You shake the memories from your mind and look up expectantly at him.
“Have you got this?” He asks seriously, tone concerned. Of course it’s a music question, nothing more. Like it always was now.
“Yeah, of course.” His stare is unwavering and you try not to falter from it.
“I can get someone else to cover tomorrow, it was just such a short notice today. You know bass really well too, it made sense.”
“I’ve got this. Seriously, don’t worry, Harold.” You pat his chest lightly and for once Harry smiles at the sound of your nickname for him. You had stopped using it after the end of your arrangement. It never felt right to use when you were talking about music, and that was about the only time you had been talking. In this moment though, it felt right. His warm, large hands held your upper arms as you stared up into his big eyes. You missed staring into them, the shimmering emerald of his irises were constantly intriguing. You instinctively reach up to move back a curl that has fallen onto his forehead. He doesn’t shy away from your touch and continues to smile down at you.
“Y’haven’t called me that in forever.” He grins, his lips a shiny pink from the lip balm he had on.
“No, I suppose I haven’t. But where was the groan? The whole point is to annoy you.” You smile coyly. He tips his head back and laughs, releasing your arms from his grasp as he laughs wholeheartedly.
Then he does a soft groan, a playful sound, “How was that?”
“Eh. I’ll give you a four out of ten. Not enough emotion behind it.” You slide from the area the two of you have been occupying and make your way onto the stage to start dealing with the bass you would be playing. You hear Harry call out to you, “I think I deserve at least a five, maybe even a six!” You turn back for a second to look at him with an unimpressed expression and shake your head no. He laughs again and you hear him even when you walk out onto the stage. You smile to yourself as you pick up the bass.
When he introduces the band, he waits to talk about you last. “And sadly this evening Mr. Adam Prentergest, our usual fabulous bassist, was unable to attend our fancy dress party! However! Our lovely Y/N L/N is also a superb bassist and was kind enough to step into his place. - Anything to add?” He saunters across the stage to you and you laugh kindly, feeling at ease in this part of the stage even though you were usually on the opposite side and further back from the crowd. You nod at Harry and he leans his portable mic towards your lips. You wet them quickly and eye Harry before turning out to the crowd. “Just please go easy on me if the bass sounds a bit wonky. It wasn’t on the job description that I’d be playing songs I didn’t know, with a few hours notice, on not my main instrument.” You say this in a kind of list format, holding up your fingers as you tick off all the ways that this was out of your comfort zone. You scratch your head dramatically after you’re finished and the whole crowd laughs and cheers. The rest of your bandmates chuckle along and Harry nods and smiles at you.
“You’ll do great, love.” He leans into your ear and says without the microphone. Then he winks and turns to go back to the center of the stage. You press your lips together to contain your smile, both happy and concerned about the flip your stomach just did.
The show is going great. Harry is killing it with the crowd. Everything is electric. You’re entirely focussed on your bass playing, but Harry has been coming over every so often to do something fun or have you tell a joke.
“She’s truly the funniest person I know! And I know a fair amount of people I think.” Harry says as he walks over to you have you tell another joke. Mitch has been looking at you and Harry interacting all night and he’s sure that it isn’t your different position that has him coming over and talking to you so much tonight. Something has definitely changed once again. First the pair of you were always together and having fun, then it was silence and stolen glances that neither of you realized you were taking, now it was back to the beginning.
“That’s because you think puns are part of the top tier levels of comedy.” You say easily, “Here, I can guarantee Harry will love this and the rest of you will likely groan.” Then you stop and act as if you’re thinking for a little, everyone’s waiting expectantly. “Sorry, thinking...Well, I’ve got some skeleton puns I could do, they’re very humerus or y’know classic vampire ones..eh but those ones kind of suck. What do you think, Harry?” You look out at the crowd, face deadpan, as Harry laughs beside you. You roll your eyes playfully and push him back to the center of the stage. Leaning into your own mic now, you say, “I told you.” That’s when everyone laughs. Harry throws another look at you over his shoulder and laughs a little more, his smile wide and eyes bright.
A little over half way through the night, it’s time for ‘to be so lonely’. You already knew the bass chords for it before today and you were confident in yourself by now. It wasn’t as hard a song so you were happy for the little break. This song allowed you to not be looking down at the notes you had stuck to the floor in front of you. Harry’s voice comes in after Mitch’s intro and you watch the way his lips move against his mic. You laugh a little as you watch the crowd yell the first “arrogant son of a bitch” line. You used to not particularly like when people did that, but after it had ended with Harry you had started to enjoy it a bit more. Having those people yell the words you couldn’t, but truly felt about him sometimes, was cathartic. Tonight you weren’t angry with him, but you enjoyed the energy in the room when everyone said it. We’ve all got our own ‘arrogant son of a bitch’ that we want to scream at sometimes. Tonight yours wasn’t Harry for the first time in a long time. The song moves along and Harry takes the microphone off its stand, he walks towards your side of the stage. When the lyrics get to:
“I miss the shape of your lips, your wit, it’s just a trick, this is it so I’m sorry”
Harry isn’t looking at the crowd, he’s looking straight at you. You don’t understand the way he’s looking at you. Or maybe you don’t want to understand it. This song, its lyrics, explains Harry really well. You saw the relationship you had with him in the words. Maybe not precisely, but a part of it was in it. Harry had unknowingly foretold your lives with his words. You know he has trouble connecting and committing, you know his issues, and you accept them. But you knew what had happened between the two of you was far more serious than meaningless sex and you knew Harry couldn’t bring himself to be that serious. He ran off and that was fine, but the face that he couldn’t even apologize hurt you the most. But the song lays it all out for you, he’s not one to be able to apologize quickly. The fact that he looks at you and means the apology he sings in the song for you, it’s a big step, but it’s not enough. The banter, the technical apology, it was all a good start, but it’s just that - the beginning. If Harry wants to make things better with you, a lot more needs to be discussed. So when you sing backing vocals for the following chorus you mean the words for Harry completely.
“Don’t call me baby again, you got your reasons, I know that you’re trying to be friends. I know you mean it, but don’t call me baby again it’s hard for me to go home and be so lonely”
His eyes flick to you again and see your lips moving around the words as you play the bass. He sees the emotion in your face and understands what you’re saying. It’s hard for you to go to your room at night and be alone while he’s out with someone else. It’s hard for him to act like everything’s all fine and perfect, back to normal, because for you it isn’t really. He can’t call you ‘love’ and tell the world you’re funny and expect it to be enough. He can’t sing his sorry that was initially for someone else to you and expect you to accept it. And he knows it, too.
After the show everyone decides they’re exhausted and need to rest before tomorrow. You all planned to celebrate the whole day and you knew it was going to be a wicked Halloween. Knowing this, you’re surprised with the knock on your door after about an hour of being back at the hotel. You’ve given up the habit you had once hoped to cultivate and swing the door open haplessly. Truly having no idea who to expect, you are still surprised to find the man standing before you.
“Mitch.”
“We need to talk.” He stares down at you, his shoulders slumped from tiredness.
“Come in,” you usher him in when you hear the urgency of his voice. He saunters in before you and you close the door. You move to the small couch in the room and sit down. Your hands gesture for him to sit as well, but he shakes his head. He stays standing and brings a hand up to smooth his hair back on the right side. His eyes staying on the floor and flickering up to you every so often.
“What is going on with you and Harry?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh come on Y/N. You’re seemingly best friends with him for a good portion of tour, then you’re barely on speaking terms for the second half, now you’re joking around again. What is going on?”
You sit there in a stunned silence, “I don’t know what to say.” Your arms go to hug your body, feeling anxious about being confronted about this topic.
“Were you seeing each other?” His voice is soft, eyes taking in your body language and knowing it’s a difficult topic.
“I wouldn’t put it like that…”
He holds back the ‘I knew it’ statement because of how sullen you look, b..ut in his mind all of the pieces he had watched unfold came to fit in a perfect puzzle. He decides to sit beside you when you don’t say anything else.
“We were having sex,” it felt weird to say it out loud, no one but you and Harry had actually known, “But it ended. I don’t know what today was...but it felt different than how it’s been.”
“Why are you so sad if it was just sex?” He places a hand on your shoulder and your tear-filled eyes meet his. “Oh…” He knows why.
“I’m sorry, Y/N.” You sob at his apology because he’s not the one who should be at your door apologizing. You sniffle and lean your head into his chest. He takes you into his arms and holds you as your cries become muffled sounds in his shirt.
You cry without words for a few minutes, Mitch coos some soothing words, his voice soft and kind. He was always a good shoulder to cry on for all of your bandmates, he was extremely strong and you made a mental note to thank him thoroughly when you actually were capable of forming coherent thoughts. “I’ve never told anyone before. It feels so weird even saying it out loud,” you say as you pull back from Mitch’s embrace. You're thankful his shirt is black, no tear stains can be made out.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks gently, gauging your reaction. You wipe at your eyes and nod.
Taking a deep breath, you decide to start from the beginning. “Do you remember the party Charlotte had a week before we left for tour?”
Mitch nods and his eyes widen at what you’re saying as he remembers the night. “It started back then?” He’s unable to contain his incredulous question. He had suspected something, but hadn’t thought it had been going on for that long. He was truly astounded. You nod, “Well sort of,” then you go on to recount the last couple of months. All the way up until the Forum shows. “That night, when I opened Harry’s door and it was you standing there...Harry and I didn’t have anything to discuss. It was just…” Mitch nods again. He hadn’t spoken much since you had gotten into the story, wanting to let you be in charge of what you were saying and believing he could probably ask questions at the end. “Then the next night he blew me off for his date with that model and I cried in the elevator because I knew what was going to happen next.”
“So that’s when it ended?” Mitch asks when you don’t speak for a rather extended period of time.
“Yeah, the next morning he came over and I asked if they had sex and he said yes so I told him it was over.”
“But I don’t get why he went out with that model. He had told me she wasn’t his type the night before…” Your eyes shot up and looked at Mitch. His eyes widened when he realized what he said.
“What?”
“When we were talking about Canyon Moon, he mentioned that Jeff had tried to set him up with some woman but he had declined. Said he wasn’t interested. I don’t get what changed between then and the next morning.” He figured it was best to put all the cards out on the table right now. You’d be going your separate ways for a while, now that the tour was over and he had seen how unhappy both you and Harry had been over the last part of the tour.
You shift your leg to have it folded beneath you as you continue to stare at Mitch. “He came over after you and him had your meeting,” you say quietly. Mitch hums, waiting for you to continue this time.
“He apologized for choosing you over me to talk to. Then we slept together, but we didn’t have sex...I think that’s what wigged him. It had felt too real, sleeping in the same bed with me without having sex beforehand made it feel like something more than just two people fulfilling needs.” Mitch nods and sighs heavily. He looks around the room and then back to you, taking in your full appearance. Again he feels terrible for you, how he had felt the second night at the Forum even though he hadn’t known the full story yet. “Now we’re here.”
“Tonight, it felt like he was trying,” Mitch finally said and you smiled sweetly, thinking back to Harry’s behavior. No matter how far from him you were, all those good feelings you associated with him never went away.
“Yeah, it’s been getting better. He texted me once saying he was trying. Then he came out with us one night and it almost seemed like that would be the night he’d apologize, but then he didn’t. Then we started sharing music with each other again. Then tonight… was tonight. It’s just confusing. He’s confusing.”
Mitch smiles sadly and brings you in for another hug and you’re actually so thankful he
showed up at your door. It was your first time telling anyone all of this, because Harry didn’t even know how you felt about some of these things. It felt amazing to be heard and to be told it was okay to be feeling like this.
Pulling back, Mitch says, “He’s definitely different. But his differences are what make him special and that’s why I think he clings to them even if they sometimes can hurt other people. The fact that he’s trying is a good sign. I hope he can find it in himself to make it right between you two because I had never seen either of you happier than when you were apparently together. Especially those few weeks leading up to Los Angeles. Sarah had kept asking me why Harry was so smiley back then. When I had asked him, he had just said “have you ever found something and realized you wanted to keep it with you forever?” I had no idea what he had meant, but I feel like he meant you now.”
Your awestruck at what Mitch has just told you. He was right about the first part about Harry trying to change, but the last bit, that’s what had left you speechless. You turn your body to face the rest of the room and put your chin against your hand as you think.
“Mitch...I have to go.”
He understands what you mean and you walk out of the door with him. He walks down the hall to his room and you walk quickly past the elevator and opt for the stairs. Before you know it you’re running up the stairs, taking two at a time even though you’re not the most athletically inclined. You can’t stand to wait for the elevator and your mind is racing.
You knock on the door that is Harry’s after reaching his floor. It swings open and reveals a confused and sleepy Harry. Thankfully he’s still fully dressed because that would have been a whole other problem you would have if he hadn’t been. You push past him and walk straight into his room without any invitation. He follows behind you, still unsure of why you’ve come here.
“Have you ever found something and realized you want to keep it forever?” You ask him, repeating the words Mitch had just told you.
“Pardon?”
“You told Mitch that about me before we ended things. If that’s how you felt, why didn’t you do what you said?”
Harry sighs as the words register in his mind. The memory of when he had smiled at Mitch so giddily and asked the vague question, his thoughts only of you as he asked it. The shit-eating grin he had plastered on his face after Mitch had looked at him confusedly flitted across his mind. As well as the way he had gone to his dressing room and had a quickie with you after that conversation.
“It’s not that simple…”
“It is, Harry! Why can’t you just be honest with me for once?”
“Okay, fine. You want me to be honest?” you nod at his harsh tone. The two of you standing only a few feet apart. “You have no goddamn idea what you do to me, when I’m around you, I have no control of my emotions or of my thoughts. I pushed you away because I didn’t like feeling out of control. I got out because what had started as a fun time had turned into me longing to be with you every waking hour. I found myself not caring what we did as long as I got to hold you and be around you, but that wasn’t part of the plan.”
“Plans can change, Harry.”
You step closer to him and he meets your eyes. He had left his music playing softly on his phone before he had opened the door so now as the two of you stared at each other, he must have been playing his Etta James playlist because her voice faded out of the song “I’d Rather Go Blind” and straight into “A Sunday Kind of Love”. Harry had shared her At Last album with you over the Christmas holiday of last year and you had decided to listen to her entire discography afterwards, so you knew the songs. The transition was a little too on the nose and you wondered if Spotify ever listened to your conversations.
His emerald eyes examine your face and take inventory of your features, measuring whether anything had changed since he had looked at you this close up. Your hand goes up to cup his cheek and he nuzzles into it, dropping his head closer to you ever so slightly and closing his eyes at the feeling of you.
“I am sorry,” he whispers earnestly as he reopens his eyes.
You can’t take your eyes off of him even if you tried. He looks so soft in the moment, so vulnerable in this light as the music swells in the corner of the room. Etta sings about how she needs a love that is going to last as the pair of you inch yourselves closer together.
“I forgive you, Harry,” you whisper back.
He nudges his head further down and your lips finally press together, slotting back together after months apart. Your lips are eager to press back against their favorite companion. You oblige them, but pull back for a second, just far enough to say, “I will always forgive you, so long as you tell me when you’re scared so we can work through it together.”
He nods, “I promise to never let you go again.” Before taking you back against his lips and gathering your body up in his arms. His lips missing yours just as much.
-
#fallinharry10k#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fan fic#harry styles fluff#harry styles smut#harry styles angst#long one shot#first fic in awhile#pls lemme know what you think#I've missed putting work out#im equally nervous and excited#harry styles one shot#harry styles oneshot#harry styles imagine#am I forgetting tags??#can't remember#oh well#def meant to call this keep it forever but forgot#oops#also lots of mitch#bc I love Mitch Rowland with my whole heart
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Peter was initially pretty apprehensive about pegging, he was 100% down with submitting to you but it was mostly just you riding him, but when he finally caved, it was like the greatest thing to ever happen to him and now he makes a big fuss if you ride him but don't peg him (he's a big brat, loves to be submissive but wants to do it his way, just edge him a few times and you'll have him eating out of the palm of your hand)
YES he’s a total brat when it comes to pegging, he wanted to act like he was going to hate it but he absolutely loves it. Will probably cry if you don’t peg him after riding him.
Pegging Peter
You had just finished riding Peter, he had cum hard, his sticky seed dripping down your thighs. You were laying against his chest, trying to caught your breath. He was whining that he wanted you to go again, you could feel his member already harding. You could hear his whimpers vibrating through his chest. Since he was still in a very subby headspace you figured it was the perfect time to bring up your newest idea. You sat up, running your hands across his chest. “I wanna try something new baby.”
He hummed, hands latching onto your hips. “Anything for you momma.” His voice was still slurring from his high, right now the only thing on his mind was pleasing you. You gave him a kiss, lightly nipping at his bottom lip before you got off his lap making him whine yet again, crying for you to come back and ride him again. You reached under the bed and pulled out a red box. Peter shifted his weight so he was laying on his stomach, that way he could see what you were getting. And also so he could slightly rut his harding member against the sheets, he thought he was being sneaky but you could hear his soft moans.
You opened the box to reveal a strap on, Peters eyes widened as he glanced between you and the toy. It wasn’t too big, it was the perfect size for just starting out. “What are you gonna do with this?” You could hear the apprehension in his voice.
“I was thinking I could peg you.” You ran your hand through his hair, he leaned into your touch. “You always like it when I finger you, I figured you might like this.”
He bit his lip. “I don’t know.”
You gave him a soft smile, and climbed back onto the bed. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, we can do it another time.” Peter glanced between you and box and decided that he’d be more comfortable trying it another time. You smiled at him and climbed back on the bed, easing yourself back onto him without warning. His eyes rolled back as you rode him, trying to make him cum for the fourth time that night
For the next few days Peter kept thinking about the box under your bed. He had done a little “research” after you had fallen asleep that night. He couldn’t deny the way his cock twitched as he saw other subby males like him bent over and crying out as women pounded into them with a strap on. All he could imagine was you doing to same to him. Making him lean on his Pac-Man machine for support as you thrusted up into him, pulling his hair back and kissing his neck. Making him drool all over, his precum staining the front of the machine.
He had touched himself in secret to that thought at least once a day. Dying for that fantasy to come true. But Peter being the brat he was, he wasn’t going to outright admit he wanted you to peg him. So he tried to subtly hint at what he wanted throughout the week, hoping you would get what he wanted. You did, but it was amusing to watch him suffer. He didn’t cave until a couple days later when you guys were messing around on his futon, you were straddling his lap, messily riding his cock and he cried out your name, hands latched onto your breasts. “M-mommy please.”
“Please what baby?” You asked, rolling your hips, making him whimper. “Use your words.”
“Please fuck me.” He muttered out, face burning in embarrassment.
“I am fucking you baby.” You teased, increasing your pace. “Just the way you like it.” You lifted up on each word, grinding your hips down and clenching around him. He came with a loud groan, squeezing your tits as he spilled himself inside you. He tried to ease himself down from his high to mutter out what he wanted.
“Not like that momma.” He whimpered, burying his face in your neck. You smirked knowing exactly what he wanted. You lifted yourself off him, pressing down on his hips and making them sputter. You reached under your bed and took out the box, Peter felt himself gulp with anticipation. He watched as you secured the strap on your waist, reaching your fingers down to your entrance to collect some of your arousal. Peter moaned as he watched you coat the base of your strap with it, his cock hardening at the sight.
“Is this what you wanted pretty boy?” You asked, standing over him. His eyes trained on your tits and the way they moved with each breath you took. He had to stop himself from leaning forward to suck on them. “Answer me baby.”
Peter looked up at your cocky expression and as much as he wanted to be your good boy his brattiness over powered that. He kept his lips sealed, refusing to answer your question. “Oh so you wanna act like that do you?” You roughly flipped Peter onto his stomach, he moaned at the feeling of you manhandling him. You coated your fake cock with lube, teasing his entrance as you forced his bum into the air. “I was gonna take it easy on you baby, but now.” You thrust into him with one quick motion. “You’re gonna pay for it.”
He cried out at the intrusion, his face burying into the pillows below him. You gave him a moment to adjust, you wanted him to enjoy it after all. You rubbed his back soothingly and cooed sweet praises as you let him get accustom to the foreign feeling. Pretty soon Peter was mewling with delight, pushing his hips back into yours, silently asking you to move.
You complied, pulling all the way out before pushing back in, directly hitting his prostate. He moaned into the pillows, fingers clutching at the sheets underneath him. “You look so pretty like this baby.” You reached down to lift him up by his torso, he moved with you, steadying himself on his shaky arms. “You look so good taking mommy’s cock like a big boy.” His arms nearly gave out at your comment.
You increased the pace of your thrusts, loving the way peter was drooling all over himself, his cock staining the sheets below and making his lower stomach sheen. You reached down to lightly choke him, raking your nails along his Adam’s apple, making it bop up and down. “M-momma.” Peter stuttered out. “I’m c-close.”
You hummed at his response. He knew that meant that he couldn’t cum just yet. You didn’t stop your assault on him, you increased it, pressing your whole body into his. Letting him feel your hard nipples against his back. He whined, crying about how much his pretty cock hurt and how much he wanted to see you.
You filled him back into his back. Peter starred up at you with watery eyes, his legs already coming to latch around you. You ran your thumb across his cheek, brushing away the tears that had managed to escape. “Pretty boy.” He leaned into your touch, shivering as you left feather light kisses on his stomach. You started your movements again, one of your hands gripping his waist with a bruising force while the other began to lazily stroke his cock.
He began to leak all over your hand, twitching in your grip. “P-please, p-please mommy.” Peter cried, craning is neck up for your to mark as you pleased. “I’ve been good. Can I come? C-can I?”
You felt yourself clench around nothing at the sight of him withering underneath you. You pushed as far as you could into him and began to shallowing thrust. “Cum for me baby.” Peter’s whole body started to shake, his cum splattering his tummy and yours. You pressed your body down on him, smearing his cum all over both of you.
You slowly pulled out, whispering to Peter about how good he did. You undid the straps and threw the toy off to the side, settling into peters open arms. You kissed his forehead, brushing the sweaty hairs away from his face. “So baby, how did you like it?” He hummed, peppering kisses on your collar bone.
“It was okay I guess.” He answered, smirking against your skin.
“Well if it’s okay I guess we won’t have to ever do it again.” His eyes widened and they glanced up to meet yours.
“Don’t say that mommy.”
You rolled your eyes at him, pulling him closer. “I told you you were going to love it.” Peter snuggled closer, breathing in your scent.
“Yeah, yeah.”
Taglist: @booboomother @enemy-of-wonkru @xxspqcebunsxx @coffeeandteaintheevening @kitwalkerangel @xmaximoffic @livingmybestfictionallife @evanmybeloved @mossybank @whiiiiplaaaaash @amourtentiaa @madison05x @rottenstyx
#peter maximoff x y/n#peter maximoff fanfiction#peter maximoff fluff#peter maximoff smut#peter maximoff#quicksilver#peter maximoff xmen#peter maximoff headcanon#peter maximoff x you#peter maximoff x reader#Peter Maximoff x reader smut#quicksilver smut#quicksilver xmen#quicksilver xmen smut#quicksilver xmen x reader#quicksilver x you#xmen smut#xmen#marvel#evan peters#evan peters fluff#evan peters characters#evan peters x you#evan peters smut
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Hello, can i request with 2 characters? It's Semi and Ushijima with top male reader. Reader and Ushijima are couple. Their relationship is mostly Ushi being sub and will do anything reader told him to. Also reader a bit manipulative? Well it's easy for him to make someone do his bidding.
Reader told Ushi to touch himself inside an empty room while reader watching him and he order him not to cum without his instructions. Earlier that day, Reader told Semi to come to the room after school end and when he did appeared, he saw Ushi playing with his own body. The sight made him hard and reader whispering things that stimulate him more and usher him to mess up Ushi.
Reader enjoying the scene because he knew that Semi has feelings for Ushi and he's happy because he get a new toy to play with. After Semi cum inside Ushi, Reader pull him toward himself and pounding him hard till he collapse from the overstimulation. Also reader didn't neglect his boyfriend that's been begging him to fuck him and let him cum.
wrapped around your fingers, (nsfw) ushijima x top!reader x semi
pronouns: he/him (FEMALE ORIENTED DNI!)
warnings: degradation, 3 some, hella manipulation, adultery kinda (?), daddy kink a little, there's also some dumbification and some random usual top reader kinks i slapped in there and publuc sex kinda me thinks
a/n: i love these types of request, dark but definitely fun to write, i lean bottom but this was still really 🛐
_____
"c'mon semi, look at your crush over there~ all riled up, touching himself, and begging to cum. won't you help him out a little?" you said pointing at ushijima, still with a vibrator inside his ass.
"y/n, p-please stop… this isn't right and you know it."
"oh i know very well it isn't, but who the fuck is gonna come and stop me? certainly not you with that hard-on in your pants."
you wanted to ruin ushijima more and more everyday, that's why you came up with the plan of completely breaking his mind with a particular someone else in mind. semi eita, one of the setters for the volleyball team. you knew he had a crush on ushijima ever since second year but ushi chose you over him. his feelings didn't die away and in fact it probably grew stronger than before. you wanted to take this chance to also mess with him a little, and see what kind of interesting scene will happen in front of your eyes.
_
bored, once again. it wasn't because you weren't satisfied with the relationship you had, you just simply wanted more risk and fun in it. ushijima is a very nice boyfriend even if he can be dense sometimes. he's obedient, especially to you. whatever you ask of him he'll almost always do it without fail. whether it was in the streets or in the sheets. the two of you were just out eating ramen till the filthy idea came rushing into your head.
after going home, you told your boyfriend to wait for you in the storage room afterschool tomorrow and answer a video chat with only his video on. you whispered some questionable instructions into his ears and handed over him a small box for him to put in his backpack later. you told him not to open the box until tomorrow and he listened like a good boy. the rest of the night went on as usual but you were excited to see what will happen tomorrow.
during class the next day you continued to remind ushijima about last night and told him to make sure not to forget about what's suppose to happen later today. while you were enjoying lunch with your boyfriend you nearly forgot to inform the other person about this. you strolled in the semi's classroom casually and walked over to his desk finding him writing the homework that hasn't even been assigned yet.
"heyyy semi, how's it going?" you said with a sly look on your face.
"oh hey y/n, i'm doing fine, do you need something?" semi said putting his pen down.
"i was wondering if you had time afterschool today?"
"i'm afraid not, i have something to attend to after school today, sorry about that."
"are you sure you can't come? i would really appreciate it if you do, it's something quite important."
"i really wish i could but i wouldn't want to push this off either-"
"wakatoshi is going to be there."
the air stiffened around the classroom as you saw semi tighten his fist. you knew he couldn't resist ushijima, and you didn't want to have to pull out this card either but he left you no choice. you can and will do anything to get what you want. semi turned his head but gave you a light nod in return. that was his signal of submission.
"i'll see you 15min after school on the balcony~" you said with a smug look and your hands inside your pocket.
the rest of your classes were so boring you nearly fell asleep. you wanted to get outta there and just carry out the rest of your plan. you were horny and you couldn't do anything about it, the thought of just fucking ushijima on his desk came into your mind a few times but was quickly brushed away after a while.
you quickly left your seat after class after giving your boyfriend a kiss on the forehead and a small wink. you headed over to the balcony of the school while ushijima headed over to the storage room waiting for your video call. ushijima found out what you gave him in the little box and understood exactly what you meant. he loosened himself up and put in the vibrator at a low setting just like you asked. he then dialed your phone with nothing on but his shirt.
"y-y/n, i did what you asked, is this good enough?" ushijima said with little moans coming out of his mouth.
"that's it good boy, such a little slut for me aren't you?"
ushi nodded his head while attempting to push the vibrator deeper inside him.
"remember now, no cumming until i say so, alright darling?"
"yes sir h-hah~"
you let out a low giggle and put your phone inside your pocket on mute to greet the grey hair male in front of you.
"hey semi, you're here."
"yes, where is ushijima? i need to go soon."
"woah woah what's the rush? follow me, i'll lead you to him."
semi was confused by what you meant but followed anyways. you led him to the storage room and told him to open the door himself. semi's heart began to race, afraid of what might be behind that door. his hands shook at the handle but eventually gained the courage to open it. he closed his eyes and pushed the door to see a heavenly sight he wouldn't even have seen in his dreams.
ushijima was on the floor wearing nothing but a t-shirt, his eyes closed, moaning your name and playing with his nipples. you ordered him to not cum without your permission so there he is. left on the floor alone, edging himself, desperate to be a good boy for you. ushijima opened his eyes after hearing the door of the storage room creak. out of panic he covered his hard cock and sat up straight, only to find one of his best friends and his boyfriend standing in front of him.
"y-y/n? semi? what are you guys doing here?!"
"aww look at you, following my instructions, good boy."
"y-y/n! what is this?!"
"hey darling, i never said you could stop, did i? now go on, keep pleasuring yourself, and if you do a good job i might just let you cum~"
"y-yes daddy…" ushijima said as he returned to the position he was in before.
"y/n! what are you doing! w-why did you even bring me here!" semi shouted out of rage.
"c'mon semi, look at your crush over there~ all riled up, touching himself, and begging to cum. won't you help him out a little?" you said pointing at ushijima.
"p-please stop… this isn't right and you know it."
"oh i know very well it isn't, but who the fuck is gonna come and stop me? certainly not you with that hard-on in your pants."
you were right, semi cock couldn't have been harder in his life. seeing his crush fucking himself with a vibrator and begging like a slut. he just couldn't control himself anymore. semi took off his pants and his cock bounced out of his underwear. he didn't even bother lubing himself up, he wanted to make ushi hurt, make him suffer for choosing you over him. while all of this was happening you were simply just an audience, enjoying the show put in front of you.
"yah fuck you, fucking slut… such a pretty little whore for y/n over there huh? fucking take my cock bitch!" semi grunted. you could hear the rage coming from his voice and that only excited you more.
ushijima was already out of breath, busy being fucked by semi. eyes rolled back, his tongue sticking out and his soft, overstimulated dick bouncing each time semi shoved further into him.
you walked over to semi and whispered into his ear.
"how good does it feel? to finally get what you wanted after so long."
"shut the fuck up, a-ah you fucking bastard!" semi said as he came into your boyfriend, grunting and moaning out of anger.
at this point ushijima was pretty much passed out but you haven't had your fun yet. while semi was trying to catch his breath, you quietly unbuckled your belt behind him and revealed your hard cock. you grabbed semi's hands behind him quickly and shoved your dick right into his ass, with no lube whatsoever.
"a-ah! what the fuck y/n fucking- let me go! what are you h-hah~"
"wow…look at you semi, just like your little crush over there you are also now getting fucked like a slut huh?" you said in a teasing manner.
"fuck off a-ah… why are you doing this!"
"oho? tired of playing nice are we? this is simply just payback, for fucking my boyfriend dumb. in return, i'm going to do the same for you~"
if semi actually had the strength to fight back he would. however with the giant cock head hitting his prostate over and over again it makes it hard for him to even talk. you kept whispering sweet words into semi's ears telling him how good of a slut he is, fucking someone's brains out and immediately getting the same treatment. sooner or later you fucked the male onto the floor, ass filled with cum and so broken that he can't even stand up anymore.
and there they were, both of your playthings, wrapped around your finger.
#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x reader smut#haikyuu x male reader#haikyuu x m!reader#haikyuu x male reader smut#haikyuu x top male reader#haikyuu x top m!reader#haikyuu x top reader smut#hq fanfic#hq x reader#hq smut#haikyuu smut#ushijima#ushijima wakatoshi#ushijima x reader#ushijima smut#ushijima x male reader smut#semi#semi eita#semi x reader#semi smut#semi x male reader smut#ushijima x reader smut#semi x reader smut#hq semi#hq ushijima
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hi <3 think u could make a monet (from punk hazard) x female reader drabble? just a fluff-ish scenario between the two, and both being assistants of caesar clown. i adore her a lot lol. thank you in advance! :)
➪ a/n: I have never written for Monet previous to this and frankly I'm disappointed in myself also partly the only reason I paid attention lol but ahhh hope I did well! enjoy <33
➪ details: SFW//Monet x fem!reader (mostly just implied I couldn't fit pronouns//w.c:
Peering into the microscope, you jot down your observations in the journal beside you and checking them over ever so often. It was quiet, not like there was much going on at Punk Hazard. There wasn’t a thing left alive after the incident, yet you didn’t find yourself complaining. Peace and quiet was all you needed, perfect conditions for testing experiments.
A chill runs across your skin, making your hair stand on end and you become aware that you may not be alone as previously assumed. The room was still dead silent but colder than before. Not too alarmed, you finished the last note in your journal then shot a look over your shoulder.
“No need to worry about me, I’m only looking at what you’re up to.” Monet answers cooly, her feathers brushing against our back and sending shivers down your spine. Wrapping her wing around you, she steps in closer to look into the microscope with a curious smile. Her big round glasses cover her eyes but you can just narrowly catch how they weren’t looking into the microscope.
“It’s really… nothing. Caesar proposed a new drug idea that I agreed to look over. Not sure if it’ll do much but it sounds like a good idea.” You weren’t sure whether it’d work but Caesar wasn’t one to pick a fight with. You hoped a second pair of eyes would help you decide where to go with it.
Monet hums and zooms in, contemplating a thought although she seems more concerned with pulling you closer with her wing. You shudder again, the coolness of her presence not yet something you were used to, especially on the already chilly part of the island. But when she'd wrap you up in her wings while in the Burning Lands, the dim cold radiating off of her kept you from boiling alive.
You may have been cold, but warmth rose in your chest with each touch of her skin against yours.
“Am I making you cold?” Pushing her glasses up to rest in her hair, she shoots you a genuinely concerned look. It felt like her golden yellow eyes could read your every mood and emotion.
“No, I just need a new jacket.” You tug it to cover your blushing face, disguising it as a poor attempt to get warmer. Something that Monet doesn't miss at all.
“Well, I could always buy you one if needed. We should have an opportunity this upcoming weekend.” She ignores your blush, playing into your lie but files it away for later as she swoops in dangerously close to your face. “In the meantime, I may have one you can borrow. Can't wear it anymore for -y’know- obvious reasons.” She waves her wing in the air.
You laugh after jotting down another quick note. “Such a shame, it was so pretty. Especially on you.”
“Don't you think it'd look cuter on you?” The chill returns as she stands in front of you, lips narrowly touching yours. Your face is on fire and she's quelling it, making you want to step closer into her presence and finally press your lips against…
“I have to finish the experiment!” You sputter out in a flustered mess, fumbling to pick up your journal and refocus yourself towards the work at hand. Monet laughs, shaking her head and slipping behind you, making you think she was going to leave until the soft feathers of her wings rush against you, curling around you in an embrace.
Lips brush against your neck just as light, climbing up till she leaves a proper kiss on your cheek. “You've worked hard enough, we can go through my closet to find you something warmer. And don't worry about Caesar, I think I can get a good excuse for my darling.”
tag list: @lawscorazon @portgaes
#one piece#one piece x reader#one piece headcanons#one piece fic#fluff#monet one piece#monet x reader#monet x you
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