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dykeomania · 3 years ago

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. . . guilty pleasure.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: i'm terrible at summaries -- ellie really likes fucking you, because you're really hot, so she eats you out like it's her fucking last meal. plus it's kinda cute at the end. that's it. that's the fic.

𝐚/𝐧: so, this is a scrap. Funny Story! ahaha!!!! Uh!!!! so i fucking hate this! [mia, great heavens, why do you hate this?] well! i've been working on this sub!ellie fic for a couple of months (i've been busy) and i thought it would be a good idea to start off a sub!ellie with dom!ellie. and i was trying to do something, but it wasn't working. so i have been contending with this fucking part of that fic for so long that everytime i look at it it makes me twitch, so maybe i'm biased, but. here you go. it's not sub!ellie which is making me roll my eyes so hard rn, but it's alright. anyway, i didn't want to waste what i'd already written so i tidied it up and made it pretty and hopefully someone likes it. idfk. if you ever wanted to have your pussy ate by ellie, here you go.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: annoying writing things, like random shifts in verb tenses because i didn't feel like proofreading this for much longer rubs nose, rolls eyes. SO! literally just pure smut, like, it's disgusting, so minors, go away. uh, oral sex, fingering (reader receiving). fraction of dirty talk. ellie thinking that you're really fucking hot. she's literally so gay. kind of obsessive. it's literally just reader receiving head for a very, very long time. oh, some overstimulation. also. just for shits and giggles. the general vibe is that you two are friends... but like.... but like... shakes head.... you're... you're not friends.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6k. get it the fuck out of my sight, please.

. . . .

when ellie fucks you, sometimes she likes to imagine that she is painting a picture.

“oh, fuck–” she knows how it sounds and wishes that it didn’t sound so creepy. but ellie has spent hours, upon days, composed of fleeting shy gazes and not-so-shy glimpses between your thighs, studying your body. eyes oftentimes slipping over the arch of your brow in conversation, or following the curve of your jaw, down the axis of your neck. over the hill of your bicep, beneath the band of your jeans, down the canyon trail of your stomach or your spine…

if she tries hard enough, she can get your face just right. eyes shut so tight, they bunch at the corners, not quite like how they do when you’re doubled over in laughter, or squinting at her in disbelief. sometimes they roll, or linger, hooking onto hers as your body stiffens with pleasure and her name hangs above your tongue on a fishing line that you just can’t seem to reach. every time ellie fucks you you drive her just a little bit crazier, because every time ellie fucks you, you remind her of how difficult and impressive the human ability to multitask is, because how is she supposed to breathe? or do much of anything really – when you look like this? underneath her, or beside her, or in front of her. pretty girl, doesn’t even begin to capture half of you. let me show you how pretty you are, is a promise, by default of impossibility, that will forever be left unfulfilled.

“el..” ellie’s fingers were magic. always were. they were so long, even if she held them out straight, the hardened calluses of her fingertips would hit every spot they needed to. but this time, ellie had curled them. nestled knuckle deep inside, with her tongue latched onto your clit - flattening, rolling, sucking. you were gone – had been for the past half hour – now whining and bucking against the pace of ellie’s tongue and fingers, tugging at your tits because she told you to. “oh my fucking god, fuck–”

it was crazy, how ellie could make you feel so good without even having made you cum, to the point where you’re holding her head still and fucking her face ultimately to achieve something familiar. but it was so confusing. you chased that great, overpowering crescendo. but at the same time, you would do anything – literally anything – as long as it meant that ellie would keep making you feel whatever it was that you were feeling. as long as it meant that she just didn’t fucking stop.

ellie’s eyes are deep green vultures that climb the curve of your adam’s apple, and she can’t tell if you’re getting wetter or if she’s just drooling. she is so fucking wet, she can practically feel the fabric of her briefs sticking to her sex. the partial friction on her clit everytime she shifts on the bed is enough to make her head spin, and it makes her hungrier. she loved watching you unravel as you chased the release. loved listening to how your whines shattered, loved feeling her nails grip and tug at her hair. loved watching you stir, pleading for that rush of endorphins that would make your clit spasm against her tongue, and that only made ellie more determined to fuck your juices out of you.

ellie hums approvingly around your sensitive bundle of nerves and for a moment, all that can be heard is the squelch of your juices as she keeps the pace of her fingers steady. quick, and unrelenting, against the warning-like quivering of your walls around them. the sensation is so far back – a tingling, almost. you are so eager, breath immediately quickening and eyes widening. it almost sends your body into fight-or-flight and dares to even cramp your leg. but you squirm and gasp, and your mouth hangs, and you don’t even have to say it. she can see it in your eyes the second you reach down from your tits to her hair, and you grasp, you look at her with something bordering awe, and a compilation of pleas. it’s fucking gorgeous. “e-ellie–”

“mhm.”

“e-el–oh, fuck–”

“mhm.”

“fuck!” you cry as your orgasm ripples through your clit, and then pulses through the interior of your cunt. on no front does ellie let up, tongue lapping greedily against your throbbing bundle of nerves while fucking the well-earned stream out of you with her fingers. you shake, and border on screaming – so sensitive, and yet still reeling against her every move whilst your orgasm moves through you. one pulse, and then two, and then three. an uncountable number of clenches around her soaked fingers. but ellie is greedy. devoured by pleasure, you lay stunned and shuddering,

and yet ellie doesn’t stop.

“ohmygod– fuck–” it could’ve took minutes. most likely even seconds. but at first, you felt nothing. and then, you were shuddering, and covering your own mouth. you can’t bring yourself to, but if you looked at ellie, you’d realize a couple of different things. for starters, ellie’s fingers are moving twice as fast. her mouth originally left your clit quite slowly, in tantalizing, rewarding kisses, before she sloppily replaced it with her thumb, for better or for worse. and above all, she was still looking at you. ellie never took her fucking eyes off of you.

“you have no fucking idea how hot you look right now,” you hear ellie rasp, and you gasp – maybe you did notice a difference because you could definitely tell that she put her tongue back on your clit, and it pushes you into a place of no return. you feel everything at once. her fingers against your g-spot, the hypersensitivity of your cunt in general. your whine is guttural and antsy, but ellie’s hands tighten on your thighs, refusing to let you move this time. “mm–mm, one more time,” ellie punctuates her phrase with a lick on your clit that is so subtle, and yet makes you damn near incomprehensible – “gonna let me taste you again? please? you’re so fucking pretty, let me taste you again. let me fucking taste you, baby, cum for me, just one more time–”

your orgasm trickles in like it’s harmless and unassuming. and then the fragment of her name that you so desperately reach for slips between your fingers and this time, you do scream.

your cunt convulses twice as hard around her fingers, and you feel your back try to arch. your orgasm is catastrophic. it ripples her bedsheets, cuts through the nighttime breeze, and singlehandedly shatters the peaceful chirp of crickets outside of the shed.

this part, was ellie’s favorite.

your slow descent from euphoria is parachuted by the sound of shuffling, followed by the rough pad of ellie’s thumb smoothing over your cheekbone. the warmth from her palm as it adorns the side of your face becomes more apparent as you find yourself floating into consciousness. you take it upon yourself to peer at her through your lashband. you find that ellie’s eyes are still dark, and lustful. but they have transformed into something that you could hold in your own without the crutch of pleasure. they were warm, and sincere in a different context, and within that, kind of made you blush a bit harder than you already were.

ellie – seemingly equally abashed, given her reddened cheeks – slowly rolls her lips onto themselves as if trying to bite back her smile. carefully, she pushes a section of your damp hair behind your ear, and places a subtle kiss on the corner of your lips. “hey…” ellie awkwardly chimes, and you both snicker. “hey…” your giggles fall short as ellie briefly hovers over you, and you reach up to close the gap between the two of you. the taste of salt and skin in any other context would’ve made you sick, but in this one, it just makes you delirious. her tongue flattens against yours and her hand smooths over your abdomen. you can’t help but pull her closer – as close as possible, really – by the bunched up fabric of her black t-shirt in a way that indicates this night isn’t over just yet.

“good?” ellie murmurs against your lips and you only respond by deepening the kiss, smiling in a way that ruins it. “so good. as always.” this time, it’s ellie’s turn to nearly break the kiss with a smile, to which she tries to make up for by kissing you harder. but you can’t help but chuckle at her excitement, even when she asks you what? through your flurry of giggles. you kiss her again, and eventually, both your giggles and her question are long forgotten.

“is it my turn?” you ask against her lips, and feel ellie’s brows furrow. “turn to what?” “touch you.” you pull away momentarily to look give ellie’s face a quick up and down glance, a tinge of curiosity lingering in your expression beneath the small smile on your reddened lips. “i wanna make you feel good.”

the pause is occupied by ellie dragging her tongue, and eventually her teeth, over her lower lip. she shuffles, as though to hover over you a bit more, tilting her head slightly to the left. “making you feel good makes me feel good,” your brows lift at her statement. you didn’t mean to, but you mentally quiver under the certainty of her gaze, and all words of protest that you had died on your tongue. a slight smirk that etches onto her lips as they hover back over yours, nor the way her hand takes firm hold of your upper thigh, barely pressing into the perimeter of your ass, “now, how about you shut up and kiss me again.”

#tlou #tlou 2 #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #tlou2 ellie x reader #joel miller #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x f!reader #the last of us ii #tlou fic #tlou smut #mia's smut #get it the fuck away from me please

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dexthtoyounglings · 2 years ago

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For the ghost request,

Can I request a fluff platonic reader/ghouls, the reader is a new ghoul to the band and she’s younger than the rest of the ghouls, and she sees the ghouls as older siblings, especially Swiss as he’s a sort of a mentor/older brother since they both share the spot he’s at on stage, kinda long prompt but I hope that’s ok!

I actually love this idea, cause it kinda just feels like I'm writing lighthearted fluff where the characters can also be mean to the reader in a joking way. Actually, I love making characters mean to the reader in general. I'm getting side tracked.

•--•

Two Fools On The Stage of Shame

The Band Ghost x Reader

Summary: How can one feel comfortable living with a bunch of scary ghouls? Oh wait, you're also one!

Warnings: platonic love between all the ghouls, Swiss is like a big brother to the reader <3

GIF NOT MINE!!

•--•

Swiss smirked at you after doing one of his dramatic drops on stage. It really sucked sometimes being stuck in the, what Copia referred to it as, "The Stage of Shame" with a total airhead.

It sure felt shameful watching your, what you thought of as a big brother, basically hump his microphone stand while you stood with a tambourine in hand and a microphone in front of you. But it was funny to think about how different he would act if girls in the crowd didn't drool over him touching his microphone sensually.

You didn't really understand why Copia needed another ghoul in the crew, even the addition of Sunshine was random (you had heard). But the moment you were summoned and introduced with a stage name, the rest of the ghouls looked around in confusion.

You remember Dewdrop being the first to speak up.

"Where exactly is she gonna be? And what is she even gonna do? This was pointless," he groaned, rolling his eyes.

You had also remembered the flush of pure embarrassment spreading through your face.

Copia waved his hand in the air, "She is to help with Swiss, ah? Keep him on his feet," he said with a chuckle.

A taller ghoul with the brightest teeth you'd ever seen before raised his hand above the group, "I meant to do that!"

"Sure you did, mio amico."

And now here you stood, shoulders loose and hands moving actively to create music. Your relationship with Dewdrop had improved since then. He finally started to see you as one of them and not just a waste of space. His words exactly.

And when the final note of the final song finally drifted through the air, you felt your shoulders slump completely. Goodbye Americas! The states treated you extremely well, but you were starting to miss the eerie corridors of the ministry.

Swiss let the mic go, edging it as it must've been on the brink of orgasm, cause all he ever talked about was being good with his hands. Dirty mind.

He snatched the tambourine out of your hand and rested it on the hanger attached to your mic stand, waving it off as he snatched you off your feet and hopped off the small stage.

It was the part of the show you never seemed to get used to - being thrown flowers at and various t-shirts and sometimes even bras. Usually you got stuffed animals thrown at you - you couldn't complain though, but your bed might start.

"You did alright out there, Tiny," Aether joked, coming from behind you to shake your shoulders around. His smile was wide, hooking his arm around your neck and pulling you into him for a tight, brotherly hug.

The crowd cheered at that, a black painted rose being thrown at your feet, then two more. You look in the crowd to see a girl with light brown hair pooling over her shoulders, bouncing for you to see her as she held up a bouquet of real roses, all painted black.

You smiled widely at her and she threw the whole thing at you. You picked it up equally, along with the additional 3. Handing one to Aether, you slipped away under his arm to see Dewdrop.

Tapping him on the shoulder, he turned and tilted his head. "Is that for me??" he asked eagerly, stepping to you with a glowing excitement. You gave it to him gently with a wide smile.

Cutting in front of you to make his way on harassing Rain, Swiss snatched the third loose one. You rolled your eyes, figuring he'd give it to the water ghoul anyways, you turned to run up to Mountain.

You snatched up the best one, painted dark and void of any color there was before that, you handed it to your tall friend. He took it with a bow, "You're the sweetest, you know that?"

You shrugged as he pat your head with care. Turning to look at the crowd, they were going wild, and many were looking at you.

You could get used to this.

•--•

Masterlist

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joonsdragoneyes · 4 years ago

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We’re live [Gamer!Jungkook x Reader][M]

Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader

Warnings: Smut, profanity, semi-public sex, protected sex (reader is on birth control), mentions of reader needing reading glasses, oral m receiving, drooling, handjobs, orgasms male and female, f and m orgasm denial/edging, big dicks, body worship (kinda), tattoos/piercing's, mentions of sex in other locations, minor hair pulling, mentions of disapproving families/hiding things from parents, mentions/descriptions of reader having a large chest, reader is kind of bratty, usage of the word cock, voice kink if you squint

Genre: Smut, some angst, streamer/youtuber au, college au if you turn on a blacklight

Word count: 4.7k

Summary: You and Jungkook have been living together for a little over a year now, a big decision after your previous several years of dating. He, of course, brought his job with him- a full gaming set up, which you happily let him set up in a spare room. Your boyfriend was a pro-gamer. This job usually kept him busy, his focus on his screen rather than you for a majority of the day. You normally didn’t mind this at all, since you were usually out during that time anyway. Today, however, was different. You were home, attempting to study as he worked in order to give him the space he needed. Except, you were missing him in a way you hadn’t in a while, and the only way to get rid of this frustration would be to get him away from his work.

{A/N: This work is completely unedited, so apologies for any typos.}

----

You could hear him yelling through the door.

The laptop sitting in front of you was beginning to dim from lack of use, the loud shouts from the room a bit down the hall further ruining your already destroyed concentration. Your glasses slid down your face as you lifted, the feeling causing you to pull them off. Flopping tiredly against the back of the chair, you took one final look at the multiple windows you had open on the screen as the screen finally went black, leaving you with nothing but your reflection on the screen. Your hair was messily tied back, strands and chunks falling around everywhere from where they escaped from your hair tie. You looked away from the sight of your own face, burying your face in your hands as your elbows came to rest on the shiny, hardwood table; you slamming the device shut as your hand lowered, your fingers pulling the skin down along with it. You sighed in frustration, letting your head flop back against the chair as you slid down, your butt now hanging off of the seat.

His voice practically bounced off the walls, each full-concentration shout of sudden frustration ringing through the house. Each time caught your attention, snatching you quickly from your exhausted daze. He seemed to be having fun in-between moments of what you assumed was either interacting with the chat or moments where it sounded like he lost- or rather, almost lost. You could already hear him coming out in a few hours, bragging about he remained undefeated in a game you couldn't remember the name of, a large, bright grin present on his face, his own pulled back hair messily sprawled in every possible direction.

You sometimes watched his streams and videos while you worked, at least you used to. It always ruined your concentration when you did, as it was now, but they were admittedly entertaining. He never knew you did, you showed little interest in his job, and you'd rather keep it that way.

Sitting up, you lifted your hands to adjust the straps dangling uncomfortably down your shoulders, adjusting the rest of your top in the process, pulling it up from where it slid down, at this point revealing almost everything. It appeared to have shrunk given how tight it was and how easily it slid down, but it wasn't like it would be anything your boyfriend hadn't seen before in the instance you failed to notice and flashed him. The tank top you had on usually did well with covering everything, but knowing that lately, for some reason, it wasn't, made you frown. It was comfortable and nice to wear around the house; you just felt irritated adjusting it constantly.

You stood up, moving toward the various loud sounds coming from the room. The door clicked as you turned the knob, pushing the large wooden object open, the many lights strung on the walls greeting you as you stepped inside the large room. The whiteboard he had hanging on the wall was full of writing and multiple expressive doodles- a few piles on the floor from a few other random activities. It was dark aside from the many lights hanging from the walls and ceiling, your boyfriend well illuminated by the glow from the multiple monitors sprawled in front of him.

Turning to face him fully, you closed the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment as you paused. He hadn't noticed you yet. You felt odd about walking in like this. You had never interrupted him while he was working unless he needed something, in which case he usually just came to get you. You honestly didn't even know if any of his fanbase knew he was in a relationship at all-; you both usually just kept to yourselves. Aside from him eventually coming upstairs to meet you in bed to sleep, coming out to eat, or the occasional 'date'- which was just running errands together or him coming with you to watch a movie you were pretty much already leaving for- you both didn't really spend a lot of time together. At least you hadn't recently.

The sight of his wide eyes and pouty expression made your heart melt, and you couldn't help but smile. He was sitting in his much-bigger-than-him gaming chair, his legs crossed with his knees near his chest as he leaned forward, his expression serious despite the generally cute nature of everything else about him. His way too big shirt swallowed him easily, and it was only at this moment that you realized he had borrowed one of your hair-ties. The pale purple band was more than familiar, and there it was, tightly holding his long black hair neatly in place.

"Jungkook-" You started as you moved close, his head instantly lifting in order to meet you, his serious expression quickly growing soft. He seemed a little confused seeing you in here but still happy about it nonetheless.

You suddenly panicked slightly, watching the screen nervously in the hope you didn't appear in the camera too much, mostly attempting to keep your face out of frame. Gently, you leaned against the back of the chair, his teeth quickly appearing in a wide, excited grin. "Do you need anything?" He asked, his bright, wide eyes meeting yours. You could feel the excitement radiating from him, his lips and cheeks pink in the light from the lamp as he spoke. "Just missed you." You admitted, crossing your arms against the back of the chair as you leaned slightly forward.

The chat on one of the monitors suddenly sped up, you noticing it from the corner of your eyes. A loud mix of emotes and words in all caps filled the screen, zooming by before you could read any of them. You watched Jungkook slide his headphones off, letting them rest on his neck as his legs uncrossed, his socked feet flopping against the carpet. "Here, you can sit with me and watch." He chirped, quickly pausing whatever game he was playing and scooting over to make as much room as he could. You shook your head.

"No, I..." You trailed off, pouting a bit as you lift your arms, moving your hands around your face in a way you hoped emphasized your unwillingness to be on camera. You knew they could see your body just fine, but you were on your computer all day and hadn't slept well, so showing your face was definitely out of the equation. Jungkook simply let his head fall slightly to the side in confusion, letting out a small "But you look fine.".

You pouted, watching as he quickly stood up, the chair rocking slightly as he slid out of it. "Here, I know just the thing." He quickly shuffled near the back of the room and over to the closet doors, pulling them open. You watched quietly as he began to shuffle through a box, the already present pout on your face growing stronger. You recognized that box. That box was from your senior prom. You already knew what he was looking for.

He quickly pulled out a black mask, the very one you had worn years ago. Why he had kept it this long, you didn't know, but you still found yourself sighing as you realized it would still work. You didn't really want to remember that masquerade themed prom, especially considering neither you nor Jungkook had fun during a majority of it. It had its moments, but you had hoped you wouldn't have to go near that specific costume again.

"Sorry, it's all I've got." He whispered, gently placing it in your not-very-eagerly awaiting hands. Taking a deep breath, you slid the mask onto your face as Jungkook scoot past, flopping once again into the large chair, his voice loudly sounding as he began to interact with the apparently very excited chat.

Once again adjusting your top, you moved over to where your boyfriend was sitting, plopping down next to him as one of his muscular arms wrapped around your waist as you settled against him, your thighs touching. You shuffled, wrapping your arm around his waist as well, your legs bouncing from where they hung off the seat as Jungkook pulled the chair forward. You felt the tension in your crossed legs relax as you realized you'd only be seen from slightly above your waist.

His hand slid around you, grabbing onto the controller resting on his thighs. Your arms flopped to the side, resting against your boyfriend's thighs in an attempt to keep them out of the way. Your fingers gripped tightly onto his sweatpants, your head coming to rest gently on his shoulder. Jungkook grinned, his teeth shining through his lips the more comfortable you became.

You could feel his voice vibrating against you as he spoke, the sound making you feel warm inside, a soft tingle running from your head to your thighs. "What're you playing?" You questioned, leaning against his strong shoulder, enjoying his warmth. His face slowly contorted slightly in thought, a pout forming on his lips as he noticeably racked his brain for the answer. "Astrotech." He finally responded, his expression moving quickly back to the way it was, his cheeks noticeably a bit pink.

Various loud booms and screeches flooded from the headphones around his neck, which he had turned up for you to hear. You didn't know what was going on it, but the sight of him expertly doing whatever objectives or maneuvering the obstacles in the game was somewhat fascinating to you.

He suddenly squirmed under you as you adjusted yourself, the sudden movement surprising until you realized your hand had just accidentally rubbed along his thigh in the process. Your lips pressed together in thought, realizing just how sensitive he seemed to be. Deciding to see if that was truly why, you cautiously ran your hand along his thighs, feeling him once again squirm under you. The barely audible groan of protest as you slightly ruined his concentration made something in your brain just click.

You knew why you were so distracted earlier.

Slowly, your hand moved along his leg before sliding inwards towards the warmth where they met. Before he could squirm again, you gave a soft squeeze to his strong thighs, enjoying the slightly surprised noise that escaped. He seemed annoyed that you were attempting to distract him, but his lack of any indication for you to stop or any sort of 'no' from him gave you the willingness to continue.

Your hands moved further up, sliding along the space between his legs and up towards his stomach. He had stopped moving aside from the slight tremble of his thighs as you made your way along. His legs slightly parted, allowing you to continue on your way, the outline of the package you were searching for soon starting to appear in his sweat pants. You licked your lips gently, tracing the outline with your fingers, enjoying the sighs you heard from his weak attempts to keep quiet.

"Alright, well, I guess I'll see you when you're done." You suddenly spoke. "I just came to visit because I missed you, but you seem pretty busy with work." You added, pulling your hand away as you stood, sliding out of the chair as you moved quickly towards the door. Thoughts ran through your brain as your hand grabbed the doorknob, opening it before gently shutting it immediately after. You turned to look at your boyfriend still sat behind you, biting your bottom lip in thought.

Slowly and quietly, you dropped down to your knees, crawling on the ground over to the desk as you swiftly slid under it. Leaning forward, you grabbed the tops of his pants, slowly pulling them down as you felt your eyes grow wide at the sight. You had seen it before, but it was still a pleasant surprise each time.

Your hands moved along his legs, swiftly grabbing the still mostly soft length, pumping them quickly as Jungkook once again squirmed under you, his legs spreading. You could feel him continuously growing under you as you moved, the sight and feeling causing your thighs to tingle.

Licking your lips, you moved forward, licking the tip of his eagerly awaiting cock, listening as he tried to stifle a pleased hum. Before he could fully react, you took the full length in your mouth before sliding down, bobbing your head with vigor, enjoying the soft noises that escaped as a result of your movements. Your hands continued to slide quickly, making up for what you couldn't reach.

Your boyfriend sighed above you, doing his very best to act as normal as he possibly could. The soft clicking and tapping from his controller continued, you only drooling as your head continued to lower, taking in as much of the steadily hardening length as you possibly could. Pawing at him for the bit you had the chance to seemed to work, not quite in the way you had hoped, but you were fixing that just fine. A soft slurp sounded as you suddenly lifted your head, the noise causing you to pause as you hoped no one had heard the sinful action going on under the desk. The conversation between him and the on-going chat seemed to be normal despite his occasional deep sighs. His fingers ran through your hair, giving a slight tug as you continued, closing your eyes as you attempted to savor the moment- still being careful to make as little noise as possible.

A sharp tug to your thick hair pulled you upwards, your breasts practically in his lap as your arms lifted, grabbing onto his thick black hoodie in an attempt to keep yourself steady. You hummed a bit in surprise, the action causing his strong hands to increase their grip on you as your head only continued to bob. He was gasping now. Loud pings and sound effects rang from the screen from what you assumed was possibly the hundredth donation of the night. You increased your speed, enjoying the strong but more gentle tug that followed with each movement of your salivating mouth.

You were only wondering how he was managing to hide this so well.

Your gaze slowly moved upwards, checking his expression. His face was flushed, his teeth on display as he bit his lower lip in a last attempt to keep quiet. His expression was otherwise unchanged aside from his noticeably dilated pupils, his face still stern with concentration.

With a loud pop, you finally pulled away, quickly using your knuckles to wipe away the strand of saliva that followed. Swiftly pulling his pants back up, you shuffled from under the desk and over to the door. That would be enough for now. After all, you didn't actually want to get caught.

You could feel him watching you as you stood up and quietly opened the door. How upset he was that you didn't finish could be felt from where you stood, but you knew he'd get you back later. He always did. It didn't matter if you just ate his food or if you pulled a small prank, he always got you back, and this time you could say you looked forward to it.

---

The door flew open with a loud bang, you jumping with surprise at the sound, nearly dropping your phone in the process. Your head lifted to meet the sight of your boyfriend standing in the doorway, his hair messy as he loomed over you. "What was that about?" He questioned, his eyes darting to take in your form.

"What was what about?"

"You know what."

You felt your cheeks warm but decided to continue pretending you didn't have a clue what he meant. "No, Jungkook, I don't know what."

His lips pressed together, his eyes narrowing. He stepped forward, closing the door behind him, a soft click sounding as he slowly locked it. You watched quietly, biting your lip as you knew what would happen next. He wasn't usually this quiet.

"Thankfully, I was able to continue normally without much issue." He plopped on the bed next to you, the weight of his larger form causing the mattress to sink under him. The force was almost enough to cause you to slide along with it.

"But you must think I'm a fool if you think you'll get away with sneaking under the desk like that."

By then, he had leaned close, his voice low as he spoke. His tattoos could be seen poking from under the dropped neck of his shirt, your eyes slipping down the closer he leaned. You flopped forward, your gaze meeting his as your hands came to rest on top of his own. "And what are you gonna do about it?" You teased. This wouldn't at all be your first time with each other, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

"You're not even ready. I could hear you taking care of it yourself before you came up; you're not as quiet as you think."

His hand lifted quietly, curling under your chin as he held your head still. "Alright, smartie, what're you gonna do about that?"

"You're usually the horndog in this situation. What am I gonna do about it?"

You were suddenly shoved against the bed below, the thick blanket warm under your body. He placed a soft kiss on your lips, his hair draping around his face as he leaned over you. "You'll have to wait to find out, huh?"

"Damn, you must really be upset." You teased without even a second of hesitation. "Man, I really wonder what you'll do. Oh, how long must I wait? Forever? Years; Centuries of waiting just to punished in the end! Just end me, as waiting is its own punishment." You whined dramatically under him, your arms lifting as your hand sprawled against your forehead, your eyes closing as your head flopped back in exasperation against the mattress below.

Jungkook laughed. "No, you won't have to wait very long. You know I wouldn't do that to you." He grinned, his teeth bright and shiny behind his lips. "Remember when we were younger, and I still lived with my parents, and you came over to study?" He asked, his noticeably strong hands trailing over your body, their attention quickly focused on your chest. You opened your mouth to speak, only to get interrupted as he continued.

"We waited until they left to run some errands, and we decided to try and be super quick." He paused to laugh to himself, you barely listening as you bit your lip, your nipples beginning to poke through the fabric his hands continued to glide over. "We started getting way too loud near the end and almost got caught because we didn't hear them pull in. The only reason we were able to clean up and everything was because you happened to finish before they walked in and could hear what we were doing. Man, what an adrenaline rush that one minute was as we scrambled around listening to them slowly come up the stairs."

By then, you were moaning under him, the fabric rough against your extremely sensitive chest. His strong fingers continued running along, teasing the hardened nubs as he moved on with another story, seemingly unaware of what he was doing. His hands snuck under your shirt, his hands warm as he grabbed as much of your breasts in his large hands as he could. "Sorry, I was talking." He apologized, taking the moment before you responded to swiftly yank your shirt over your head.

In your moment of distraction, you had become so hot and bothered that you hadn’t even noticed how long he had been rambling. You could hardly hear his reminiscing over your increasingly more desperate moans. The feeling of the cold air hitting your already erect nipples made you squirm slightly, you only coming back to reality to a soft warmth on your neck. Your hands lifted, gripping with white knuckles tightly onto his thick hoodie.

You lowered your gaze, the sight of his face resting on your chest greeting you. His hair messily covered his eyes, the deep brown underneath shining in the light of your bedroom. His lips were pressed softly together into a pout, his tattooed arms lifted to lay across your shoulders, wrapping under your head. “You’re not paying attention!” He whined, continuing to pout as he shuffled to lean over you, the mattress squeaking ever so slightly as his knees rested on the bed.

He paused to pull the thick fabric free from his body, letting it thump to the ground as he leaned over you once again, the thick ink on his arms dancing as his muscles flexed in the process. Your eyes widened as his face approached yours, your noses quickly touching, the pout still present. “You didn’t hear my story.” He whined again, softer this time, the shine still present in his wide eyes despite the shadow he was casting over you. “You weren’t even listening.”

“Honey, you were rambling.” You responded, hoping he couldn’t feel your racing heart. He flopped down, his hips straddling your own as he sat up, his strong arms causing the bed to sink in as he continued to lean over you, your thighs tingling at the slight bounce that followed as he grew comfortable on your hips.

“I was telling a story.”

He lowered himself, his lips coming into contact with your own, your hands lifting to grab on the thin white t-shirt that remained. His teeth ran softly over your lips as he pulled away, his hands once again moving to slide under your head. Your thighs burned and tingled with each movement he made.

You were beginning to sweat as you continued gripping him tightly, your hips wiggling to wrap your legs around him. His lips once again moved into a pout, the shine is his eyes disappearing as his head came to rest on your chest once again. He definitely felt you move.

His legs slid around you, his knees moving under your hips to lift them up, pressing his now noticeably tight sweatpants against your shorts. He once again lowered to kiss you, more gentle this time as his hands lowered to remove his sweat pants, leaving nothing between you but your shorts- which already barely covered anything. Your own hands lowered, grabbing onto the hard length poking between your legs, pumping slowly as he sighed into the kiss. Your shoulders ached as his hands pressed against your shoulders, pressing you into the mattress. You sped up your wrist movements, listening as he groaned into the continued kiss.

Suddenly, his hands shot down, levering your legs open and lifting his hips to practically rip your shorts free of your body as he finally broke the kiss. His legs slipped off the bed and onto the floor with a loud thud, swiftly yanking you close to the edge. His fully flexed arms caged you in, his lips coming into contact with your exposed neck, his breathing soft and warm against your skin.

“Roll over.” He huffed, moving to kiss along your chest and shoulders. His face was now a soft pink, lifting to watch you intently as you rolled onto your stomach, letting out a noise of surprise as you were yanked yet further off of the bed, your feet now touching the floor. Kisses once again returned to your neck, an occasional moment of cold causing you to shiver with delight as his tongue traced over your warm skin with each mark he left behind. Your still erect nipples dragged softly over the sheets under you, the cool mixture of the sheets and his tongue piercing causing you to moan loudly under him.

Your face slammed softly against the mattress below, his strong arms pressing against your shoulders to hold you in place, your hips lifting in the process. Of all the times you’ve done this, he wasn’t usually this rough, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t exciting.

“Fu-” You moaned, burying your face in the mattress at the stretch that followed. “-ck.” Your hands gripped onto the sheets, the feeling of his teeth and tongue reaching every inch of your neck making you whimper. He had always been taller, but it wasn’t until now that you realized just how much stronger- and bigger than you he was. You could hardly move with the grip he had on your shoulders, your head the only thing able to move freely. He had you where he wanted you, and it’d probably be a while before he’d free you.

Each thrust ruined your hopes of being quiet, drool beginning to fall from your lips as he continued- each thrust more intense than the last. Your eyes were soon rolled back, your mouth open as saliva dripped from your parted lips, the sharp tugs to your hair adding to the overall ache. Your legs, hips and shoulders were growing more pained with each lewd slam into you, each second bringing you closer to the edge. You were silent, the ache taking your breath away, a loud gasp escaping as he freed your shoulders, yanking you upright by your hair.

His arms wrapped under your chest, freeing you from the bed entirely as he held you in place, your arms contorting behind you to hold onto his now moist t-shirt. You were trembling, your chest burning as you gasped for air. “Jungkook...” You managed, your voice hoarse as your head flopped backwards against his muscular shoulders. You could feel the mess you were already making in your excitement, awaiting the finish you were mere seconds away from, only to groan as you felt him stop, your chest bouncing as he adjusted you.

“No...” You whined in complaint, taking the time to catch your breath only to catch yourself moaning with each exhale. You continued shaking as he kissed along the back of your shoulders. “Don’t stop...” You continued, wiggling your legs slightly to get him to continue. He groaned with your wiggles, grabbing your thighs to keep you in place. “Stop moving.” His voice was soft and gentle, your head rolling around on his shoulder as he placed another kiss on your aching neck.

“You’re so pretty.” He complimented, letting you fall forward with your hands hitting the mattress, his arms firmly gripping your thighs to stop your hips from moving from their position. The little eyeliner you had on had started to run, your hands gripping the sheets in anticipation as you wondered what about you with messy makeup was pretty.

You cried out, your voice still hoarse as the edge approached faster than before. After a minute you were trembling under him again, the ache returning as you tipped closer and closer to the edge. You were reduced to a shaking, squealing, moaning mess in a little over a minute, your legs struggling to hold onto him as they shook.

Your face once again slammed into the mattress, a loud groan felt against your back as his hips sputtered slightly, his large hands grabbing onto your hair once again as he attempted to keep himself steady as he finally tipped over the edge. His breaths were rough and quick against your back, you too busy attempting to catch your own breath to notice his hands had lowered.

You gasped, pleasure coursing through you once again as his fingers moved with renewed vigor. “Ju-Jungkoo-” You pleaded, struggling to even get his name out as his strong hands made quick work of your clit, you finally reaching your release with a sudden, violent shake. He pulled away, the emptiness that followed allowing you to fully fall against the bed, your legs weak as you attempted to stand. His arms wrapped around you, gently laying you down.

“Too much?” He questioned, taking in your exhausted form, his voice dripping with concern. His eyes widened slightly at the black smeared along your cheeks, pouting as he gently wiped it off, not seeming to notice his still wet fingers. “Too much.” He lowered to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, running his fingers through your messy hair. “Definitely too much.”

---

[A/N: Sorry that this came out so much later than I promised. Hopefully it was worth the wait.]

#bts #bts jungkook #bts jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #gamer jungkook #jungkook au

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years ago

Text

“your turn”

Harry Styles was a romantic. He hated weddings. Rori Williams was practical. She hated weddings, too. How could she deny a man who had just drunkenly confessed his love for her at a wedding? Even if it was completely and totally untrue.

A story of two semi-strangers to lovers with weddings, drunken confessions, and girls with two names.

gif has nothing to do with it but he looks fancy and i like it :) tpwk

Hi! this is for @meetmeinfleetwood to lovers fic challenge! and it’s a little cruel of me to post it today after those wedding pics came out but i have been working on this for awhile and tomorrow’s the deadline so if it’s too soon im sorry and if its just what you need enjoy! I used prompts 12 and 15! It’s my first ofc story which is a little strange for me but i wanted to use a name for this, but besides her hair and eye color and a name she’s pretty generic,,, idk thank you all for always reading and all of that. lmk what you think and reblogs are always really appreciated

Word Count: 9.3k | Warnings: drinking, swearing, implied? smut (couldn’t bring my heart to write any my apologies), harry being a silly drunk, mentions of being afraid of someone taking advantage of someone under the influence but ofc no! actual any misconduct -- a SITCH wedding!!! so cute ::))

Harry Styles was a romantic.

He loved love songs that professed their undying love for their significant other. He loved romance movies, rom coms especially, because they were happy and in love and he got to cry and laugh all in one. He loved writing his own songs about love and he loved spreading the idea of loving and treating others with kindness. He loved first dates and the relationships that sometimes sprouted out of them. He loved reading books about love and how to make it last. He loved poetry that waxed eloquent about love. He loved love.

He hated weddings.

Well, he hadn’t always hated weddings. In the beginning, they were like every other aspect of love, he loved them. But slowly, as he kept receiving announcements of engagement and wedding invitations and he kept not sending out letters of his own, his aversion grew.

Sure, he still loved going. He still wept for the happy couples when they committed themselves to each other. He still clapped profusely and danced to the dj or live band. He still tried to enjoy it. But with weddings he had a nagging sense in the back of his head reminding him that he still hadn’t found it yet. Each of his relationships had fallen short in some way as to not lead him to this destination. So when he sat at his assigned table at these various gatherings, he held a bit of apprehension, a bit of envy, about everything going on. He knew that his smiles were all a little forced and his laugh not quite genuine. His thoughts always managed to be controlled by his green-eyed monster that he always attempted to keep locked away. But at weddings, especially when the alcohol started flowing, he had a harder time controlling it.

Seeing all his friends getting together, getting married, and having children wore on him. Wore him thin more than he ever let on to anyone but his therapist. And his therapist couldn’t seem to give him a better answer than to be patient and not give up hope.

By 2021, Harry had decided that maybe he was just meant to be alone. Love was something he could admire, but it wasn’t meant for him. He could chase it, but it would never let him have it. He was unlucky in love and by Sarah and Mitch’s wedding in the Spring, he had come to terms with it.

He had even been optimistic for it, being Mitch’s Best Man and all had gotten his hopelessly romantic heart all aflutter. He was introduced to Sarah’s Maid of Honor, Renee Williams and she had been lovely. She was 31, a little older than Harry - but age wasn’t something that deterred him, and she had worked with Sarah in Los Angeles before Harry recruited Sarah for the band. They were best of friends and Sarah had known for a long time that Renee would be her Maid of Honor.

When Harry met Renee, he was sure that she was meant to be his person. She was beautiful and hilarious, her beauty mark at the side of her lip was so utterly unique he called her a “right Marilyn”. She insisted she was not a Marilyn Monroe type at all and had laughed. Harry had charmed her with his expert flirting and claimed that just because she was a brunette didn’t mean she was a Marilyn. She had smiled and bantered through the rehearsal dinner with him at her side. He was entranced, it had to be Renee, he had been so sure of it.

When Renee had walked down the aisle just before Sarah, Harry had been sure of it. When Renee had smiled at Harry as Mitch slipped on Sarah’s wedding band, Harry had been sure of it. When he had hooked his arm around hers as they walked down the aisle and into a foyer, Harry had been sure of it. When she laughed at his jokes while they waited for their wedding party photos to be taken, Harry had been sure of it.

When Renee walked up to Harry at the reception with another man wrapped around her, Harry wasn’t so sure of it anymore.

“Harry, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Corey,” Renee smiles giddily between the two men.

Harry’s eyes widen slightly at the word ‘boyfriend’ and he swallows harshly before blinking and putting on a sweet smile. He thrusts his right hand out for Corey to shake.

“Hullo, mate,” Harry says happily.

Corey greets Harry, extending his hand to meet Harry’s with a warm smile and a “how are you”. Harry laughs boisterously and takes a sip of his champagne flute. They shake hands with a firm up and down motion.

“Planning on getting really drunk,” Harry says in response to Corey’s question. “Have a great night, you two,” he finishes and stalks off for a refill.

Renee watches him go with a little bit of a confused look on her face. She sees him tilt his head back and finish his drink before turning to face her boyfriend and peck his cheek. She mumbles to him, “He’s a really nice guy, wouldn’t stop chatting my ear off the past few days. All these people must make him antsy.”

He nods back to her, “They must.”

Harry sidles up to the open bar, discarding his empty flute and exchanging it for a much stronger drink.

“Tequila. Neat...Please.” He sighs and runs a hand through his curls that are slowly becoming less and less coiffed. His fingers slide to the collar of his shirt and tug, attempting to loosen it a little.

“Rough night already?” Someone asks from beside him.

His face turns to them and sees a smiling brunette. Her eyes are big, larger than most eyes he’s come across. They’re brown with tinges of gold and green, likely making them hazel by her standard since most people prefer saying hazel eyes to brown. Her smile is bright and clean and if Harry hadn’t already heard her speak he would assume she was American from that smile. It was perfect, too perfect - the teeth both straight and blindingly white.

He raises his eyebrows at her and thinks about his response. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, leaving them parted, but he remains silent when the bartender hands him his tequila. Harry wraps a specifically less ringed hand tonight, he had forgone his ‘H’ and ‘S’ rings as well as the rest of them actually on his left hand. His right hand still had two: the large flashing lavender gemstone encrusted in a gold casing from Stevie Nicks on his middle finger and then a clean gold signet ring with little crosses on the sides on the adjacent ring finger. Every other finger was noticeably empty. So when he picks up the glass there is no familiar clink which draws the attention of himself.

The woman doesn’t pay any attention to his hand, she’s still waiting for him to respond to her question, as well as waiting for her other drink to be made. She was taking advantage of the two drink system and getting two for herself right now, so she didn’t have to come back until much later.

“You have no idea,” is how Harry decides to respond and then turns to leave. He forgets about the woman and sits at his assigned table for his entire drink, talking casually with the people who come to speak with him.

When he's finished, he goes back to the bar to order a second tequila. He thinks about the girl who had stared at him with her big brown eyes. How she had seen him and thought to ask how his night was when it seemed to be going to shit. And how he had blown her off with barely a glance. God, he could be such a prick. After he receives his drink, he forgets yet again and continues to drown his sorrows in the golden liquid that helps him numb the pain that he had once again missed out on his fairytale love story.

The girl Harry had run into sat in the corner of the ballroom for the majority of the night. She settled on just having that first round of drinks for herself and one glass of obligatory champagne during the toasts. Other than that, she had promised herself she wouldn’t get drunk and go off with a random stranger. This was not a wedding for that. This wedding couldn’t be for that. She just needed to keep her head low and try to have a semi-pleasant time.

When she was nursing her champagne through the toasts, the man at the bar caught her eye again. She knew who he was. He was the Best Man after all. Sarah talked about him a lot, even Renee after the past few days, but seeing him at the bar had been the first time she’d ever seen him up that close. It was strange, he was so human. So tangible in that moment. His shoulders shook with each breath he took. His fingers tapped as they waited for his drink. His green eyes blinked and darted around as he took in his surroundings and even looked at her. He simply was and it had startled her to see him in a slightly bewildered state at the bar, but again, she wasn’t one to judge.

Get through the wedding. Try to have a semi-pleasant time.

It was time for the Best Man’s speech. Renee had just given the Maid of Honor’s and now Harry was up. He stood up and wavered a little as he tried to stand up straight. The neat tequila likely makes his stance a little harder to maintain. Mitch looks up at Harry at his side and smiles fondly.

Harry raises one hand in an awkward wave while the other is planted firmly on the table.

“Hullo,” he starts, “I’m Harry and I’m the Best Man, but I’m sure you knew that already.”

The entire group of guests laugh wholeheartedly, taken by the talented young man.

“To start,” he stutters, his words slurring slightly from the alcohol he’s had, and his smile slithers into a smirk. “Let’s hear it for the bride and groom, the lovely Sarah and Mitch Jones!”

Queue the laughter again. Harry laughs too when Mitch slaps his arm playfully, he turns to look at him with a mock ‘what did I do wrong’ expression.

“I had a speech written out, took a week to write, made it nice and poetic for these two lovebirds, but it seems I’ve misplaced it,” he pats at his pockets and sighs before rubbing his forefinger at his bottom lip. “I hate weddings.”

Everyone laughs again, thinking he’s joking. Harry grimaces but it passes as a smile even though she can tell it doesn’t meet his eyes.

He rambles on for a few minutes about love and commitment, how this is just the beginning for Sarah and Mitch and everyone laughs at the appropriate times and just when he’s wrapping up, successfully stumbling through his messy mind, everyone begins to clap.

“To the happy couple…” queue applause, but she sees him say something else, it’s drowned out by the crowd cheering and clinking glasses again.

He sits back down, downing his champagne glass that’s been refilled twice already during the speeches. Mitch leans over and whispers something in Harry’s ear as he twists a hand through his hair. Harry shifts away from Mitch and gives him a look, telling Mitch that he’s fine.

The party goes on, a few more speeches, a few more glasses of champagne for Harry, a few more sighs from the girl in the back of the room.

She watches the first dance of Mitch and Sarah but once that part is over she slinks off. She’s got half a drink left and all she wants is to be alone. Tired of the party, tired of the people, tired of having to try to have a good time. The Rowland-Jones Party had rented the entire place out, so she wanders out of the main room and down a hallway until the music is a faint buzz in her ear. The air grows colder as the amount of people dwindles from over a hundred to one.

There’s a door to her right that has an intricate golden handle that she pulls down on. It opens quietly onto a similar ballroom that is slightly smaller than the one the party was going on in. It’s quiet and spacious, her steps echo as she enters on heeled feet. The clicking of her satin stilettos resonate against the linoleum. She walks to the center of the room and turns around herself, lifting her head to the light in the room. An ornate chandelier is still above her, it’s the same gold as the handle that let her in. Her eyes travel to the walls that contain swirls of gold as well, everything was encrusted in gold and splotchy vintage mirrors. It was beautiful and she saw herself in the reflection of one of those splotchy vintage mirrors and actually felt beautiful in that moment.

No one else saw her but herself and she thought she was beautiful, a fleeting thought as she watched her body move. No one to watch as her reflection swayed with her. Her lavender dress swished back and forth, the end of it brushing around her ankles. The tulle fabric climbed her torso, cinching at her waist and draping over her breasts. The sleeves fluttered over her shoulders and ended midway down her upper arm. The somewhat sheer material made her tan skin look all the more carmely in the golden light of the chandelier. Her pendant necklace was silver and glinted in the light as it sat evenly over her exposed clavicle and decolletage.

In the corner opposite of the door there was a single table with three chairs. It seemed whoever was meant to put things away had grown tired and left these out. She wasn’t complaining as she crossed the floor to take a seat. It was the perfect escape. It was quiet and not too cold in the room, which was especially nice since she had left her jacket in the coat room. What wasn’t so nice is that her phone had died and she had nothing to do in the room. It wasn’t horrible though, she had wanted to be alone with her thoughts. She just feared what would happen if she sat alone too long with no escape of the internet to drown those thoughts.

That contemplation was squashed with an unwitting solution not ten minutes later. She had been sitting at the table, sipping her drink occasionally and staring at the chandelier. Sighing with content that it was finally silent beside the clink of her melting ice cubes. The house mixed drink was strong, but with each passing second it grew more and more diluted. She considered herself completely sober.

She only questioned that when she noticed a second person in the room. She hadn’t heard them open the door, but she heard their loud footsteps shortly after.

He all but stumbled in and was entranced by the chandelier like she had been. He walks to the center in a similar fashion and twists around, only this time his balance isn’t as good as hers. He ends up on his ass, legs splayed in front of him and hands behind him only cushioning his fall a little. He lets out a huff, “Fuck.” He runs a hand over his face before bringing it down to look around the room again. His eyes are foggy with alcohol, everything hazy and slightly blurry. It feels like he’s moving with superspeed but as she watches him with a tilted head she wonders why he’s moving so slowly.

He squints while looking around after a moment, running a hand through his thoroughly tousled hair. His tongue comes to wet his lips, but this time it's for a touch too long like he’s genuinely tasting the liquor on them. She raises her brows, observing him, her presence seemingly unknown.

“Oi, you!” He slurs the words and points lazily at her reclined in her chair. “Are you real?”

She half smiles and replies with a simple ‘yes’.

“I like your dress,” he says merely like he was stating a fact rather than giving a compliment. His hair falling into his eyes again despite him just pushing it back.

“Thanks.”

He makes his way to standing, his process rather ungraceful. He twists onto his hands and knees and begins to push himself up. He slips once before making it to full standing, he sways slightly and looks around again like he’s forgotten why he stood up. His eyes land on her again and he decides to make his way over to the table.

“You should probably sit,” she says, watching him splay his arms around him to keep his balance. She had seen him an hour and a half ago and he seemed fine, but now he seemed absolutely and utterly pissed.

“Thanks, mum,” he says as he thunks into the seat beside her, his hand waving off her suggestion.

Her brows raise at the slightly rude comment, but she leans back in her seat still observing him.

“Why do you hate weddings?” She asks once he’s settled and has his head propped up with one of his hands. She takes a sip of her drink as she watches him scan her face again, trying to see if he recognizes her.

His mind must come up empty, a vague memory of the bar slipping away without a second thought.

“It was a joke,” he shrugs.

“No it wasn’t,” she replies easily.

His eyes narrow and he leans forward a little shakily, “Who are you?”

“Aurora.” She licks at her own lips, a stray bit of liquid lingering on her lips.

“That’s a Disney princess name,” he says, unconvinced, how most drunk people were when you told them the truth.

“And my great-grandmother’s and mine,” she responds, a grin playing on her lips as she watches him think it over. “It’s wild how multiple people can have the same name. Did you know people can share a last name as well?”

He leans back in his chair now, unhappy with her snarky response.

“Isn’t that why we’re here, two people joining together and sharing the same last name now?” He threads his fingers as he speaks, mimicking something coming together.

“Yep,” She perks at the question he poses. “You still didn’t answer my question.” Her brows raise once playfully.

“What?” Harry seemed to have lost the plot, his fuzzy drunken brain choosing to forget the first thing she asked him while in this private ballroom of theirs.

“Why do you hate weddings?” She repeats, louder and with emphasis, the words echoing this time.

“Oh,” he looks up to the ceiling and blows air past his lips harshly, “S’ a long story.”

“We got all night,” she offers, and raises her glass to her lips once again.

“A night wouldn’t even cover half of it,” he ponders seriously, his mind reeling. “I’d rather talk about you.”

“Why me?” She laughs like she’s just received the most delightful surprise.

“Because,” He starts and then sits quiet for a moment before leaning forward, elbows on the table as he peers at her, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“You only just met me,” she responds. “Not to mention, you’re drunk as fuck, Best Man. Just minutes ago I watched you stumble in here and truly fall on your ass.”

“Then tell me about yourself and I’ll explain my hatred for weddings.”

“You’re awfully good at bargaining for being this inebriated.”

“I never lose my charm, no matter how pissed I may be,” he smirks and gives a sloppy wink, hair falling in his face yet again.

She scoffs, but she is rather amused and intrigued by the man beside her. His tie now completely loosened, hair falling every which way, and his green eyes set on her. The shiny shoes he wore slipped around on the ground as he shuffled his feet below him like a child wanting to go play. She figured it was just his drunk brain trying to amuse himself or something. How could she deny a man who had just drunkenly confessed his love for her at a wedding? Even if it was completely and totally untrue. She at least had to entertain the foolish notion that maybe he actually was interested in getting to know her. If anything, it would help pass the time until she could go home.

“I’ll bite,” she relents.

The smirk doesn’t leave his face, it only widens, “Only if I can, too.”

“I wasn’t saying-”

“Shush, sh-sh-shush. I know that,” he holds a hand up at her, trying to get her to be quiet. He sways again, even in his seat he looks as if he could fall over at any moment. She wondered if he might not remember this tomorrow. “I was bein’...” he licks his lips in a pause, “suggestive.”

She laughs again, knowing his sober brain probably would have chosen a more articulate and suave word since ‘suggestive’ was rather tactless and more straight to the point. If she learned anything from all the conversations she overhead about him, Harry was definitely one for tact.

“You were something, that’s for sure,” she wraps a hand around Harry’s wrist, she draws the hand down from its hovering state and lays it against the table again. She withdraws her own hand back to her glass, her drink almost completely gone now.

He smiles, pleased with himself, but unaware that his charms had worn off with his exorbitant amount of alcohol consumed. At least on this girl they weren’t working. She had never been attracted to people who were too drunk to help themselves and she always hoped that’s how others felt too. She was thankful he had stumbled in on her rather than someone who didn’t feel the same way. It made her sick to think of what someone with evil intentions might do if they came across a babbling drunken version of Harry. Pushing those thoughts away since that wasn’t the case, she decided to pat his hand once just in reassurance to herself and him that this was really happening.

“I’m twenty-five.” She states.

Harry nods, a small smile on his lips now rather than a smirk as he watches her again. He liked how smoothly she moved rather than the rest of the world in his drunken eyes, everything else was choppy and fast. She was elegant and fluid, calming even.

“I love love,” Harry says, eyes remaining on hers, no trace of a joke in his tone, “And it hates me.”

“That can’t be true,” she squints at him, a frown gracing her face for a moment at the sadness she sees in his watery eyes. Not crying watery, just watery from his drunken state.

He says nothing, waiting for her to offer more information about herself before he says anything else. This was the deal after all. She quickly realizes why he isn’t responding and sighs, conversation with drunks was tedious already, but Harry seemed determined to make it even harder.

“I’m from California.”

“They always are,” Harry mutters to himself. He ignores her hum of a question, asking what he just said with a simple sound. “All my friends, they’re either getting married or they’re already married and got kids on the way or whatever. They all found love and I’m just here with fuck all.”

She sincerely doubts what the drunken man is telling her right now, but she knows how to play the game now to get more information. “I hate my job,” she states.

“Sometimes I feel like I'm cursed, like I fucked up one too many times and now I’m doomed to never find love.”

Her eyes widen at this, he sounds so damn sad and she wishes she could take his pain away. She knew what a good guy and she couldn’t imagine why he would deserve to feel this way. No one deserved to feel like they weren’t worthy of love. His sad state truly almost brought her to tears. She’s there in a stunned silence and Harry is confused why she hasn’t said anything more about herself. It was her turn.

“What’s something else about you?” He asks, his hand fiddling with itself on the table. She notices once again that there aren’t as many rings on his fingers as what she thought was usual.

She licks her lips and reaches her hand forward. She grasps Harry’s fiddling hand and stops his movement. “I feel sorry that you feel this way, no one deserves the kind of pain you’re inflicting on yourself. I’m very very sorry for you, Harry.”

“That’s not really…” He trails off, losing his focus on her face and instead looking at their hands touching. The feeling is so intense in his buzzing body. Her touch was so calming compared to the electric feeling in his body. It felt nice.

“Can I ask you a different question and then I’ll tell you something no one knows about me?”

He nods eagerly.

“And you can’t dodge the question, you really have to answer it, okay?”

“Okay.”

“What did you say at the end of your speech? It got drowned out by applause, but I saw you say something.”

“You noticed?” He asks kind of surprised, then scratches at his eyebrow. He sees her slight glare and knows to get to his answer. “Asked when it’d be my turn…like to fall in love, y’know.”

She sighs, saddened yet again by his words. “Okay, well, here’s my secret... I hate weddings, too.”

Harry’s eyes light up, maybe he really was in love. She purses her lips and pulls back from him.

“I think you’re my soulmate,” he breathes out, again making a false confession. His drunken brain wants it to be true. He’s desperate for his search to be over, for her to be his person.

She smiles that same sad smile that she keeps getting when he says these sad things to her.

“I assure you, I am not, Best Man.”

He looks at her confusedly. She was beautiful, she was clarity to him. Her brown hair was straight with a little wave in it, like it was straightened for the occasion but never truly that way otherwise. It flowed around her head and shoulders, but she had it tucked behind both ears. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone, she just simply was beautiful. Her sun tanned skin looked soft under the golden glow and Harry was sure she was an angel or something.

“Why not?” He insists, leaning forward.

She stands up from her seat. He follows clumsily behind her, standing as well. He was still taller than her even in her high heels. He smiled like a lovesick child down at her, his eyes as big as the moon. She bites at her lip as she sees him look at her so lovingly, so misguidedly. Then she leans up towards his face, up on her tiptoes and past his lips. Her hands hold him straight with them curled in his suit’s lapels. She presses a sweet and gentle kiss to his cheek, closer to his jaw than anything.

“Good night, Harry,” she whispers against his skin before pulling away.

His eyes flutter open, his looks at her confusedly, slightly unaware that he had closed his eyes at all.

“Good night…” He had already forgotten her name, something with an A...or was it an O? He’d have to ask Sarah and Mitch about the girl who had talked to him in the empty golden ballroom, the girl he had fallen in love with. He was certain. She was the one - if only he could find out her name. If he remembered this at all or if he just thought it was a dream.

She leaves the room before him and as she leaves she wonders if she maybe should have made sure he was alright, but she figured their talk was sobering enough. The night was ending and she had a sneaking suspicion that there were plenty of people here tonight looking out for him.

Harry forgot about the girl in the ballroom. Or at least he wasn’t sure if it was a dream or reality. He had woken up at Tom’s place where he had said he would stay after the wedding reception so he hadn’t gone home with a girl. He couldn’t remember her name so he couldn’t really ask anyone about her and he didn’t exactly have a lot of people he could ask. He wanted to ask Sarah and Mitch, but they were already off on their honeymoon and he was one of those people who would never bother a couple on their honeymoon. He was too embarrassed to ask Renee and anyone else for that matter.

So, instead, he forgot. Harry forgot about her for three weeks until Sarah and Mitch returned. He had called them for a hike and lunch the moment their plane had landed. He had missed some of his best friends. It was a lull in the year, where he wasn’t touring or in the studio, just living and writing when he felt like it. So maybe he was in need of some inspiration.

“Ah! The Jones’!” He exclaims as he walks up to their parked car at the head of the trail.

Sarah laughs and Mitch rolls his eyes, half-heartedly since he’s just as happy to see Harry as Harry is to see him.

“I missed you,” Mitch says as he brings Harry in for a hug.

“Don’t let the missus hear that,” Harry tuts while he sends a wink over Mitch’s shoulder to Sarah.

“It’s all he could talk about for the past few weeks,” Sarah jokes as she goes in for a hug with Harry. “How do you think Harry is? Hope he’s eating? I miss Harry.” She mimics Mitch’s voice.

Mitch shakes his head shyly, a smile spreading on his face after a moment. “That. Is not true at all,” he assures Harry, “But you do look a little thinner. What have you been eating?”

Harry elbows him with a grin, “I’m fine. Been bored so I’ve just been filling the time with working out.”

They start their ascent up the hill and into the canyon. Mitch nods, his worry for his friend subsiding momentarily before he says something strange.

“I’ve been wanting to ask, but you’ve been gone, about a girl at the wedding.”

“Oh?” Sarah gives Mitch a knowing look.

“Yeah, well the thing is, I’m not sure if she was real or not. I think she was real, but I was so drunk, there’s so many bits missing in my memory.”

Sarah and Mitch both laugh. “You were very drunk, H,” Mitch confirms.

Harry ignores him, “I even asked her if she was real and she said yes, but y’know people can lie in dreams. All I remember is she was amazing and she had a princess name, I think.”

Sarah thinks about the guest list. “No princess names that I can think of. What did she look like?”

Harry squints ahead of them, his sunglasses pushing his curls back on the top of his head. “She had straight brown hair, not long or short. She said she was, uh, twenty-five. She was in lavender, I think.”

“You think a lot,” Mitch interjects which earns him a glare from Harry.

Harry thinks about this part that he remembered vividly, how she had been so confident that he wasn’t. He adds, “...And I told her I was in love with her.”

“Oh god, Harry,” Sarah sighs.

Mitch gives Harry an apologetic smile.

“She didn’t buy it, but she didn’t run off either. We talked for awhile.”

“Maybe it was a dream,” Sarah says.

“Okay, let’s see,” Mitch grows to be the leader of the investigation, wanting everything for his best friend to find the love he knew he deserved. “Twenty-five year old brunettes at our wedding who are single. C’mon there weren't that many people there.”

Sarah thinks about it again. “Renee’s sister is twenty-five. I don’t remember what she was wearing, I hardly saw her all night,” she pauses, “Which is strange since she wasn’t on the job for once.”

“What do you mean ‘on the job’?” Harry asks curiously, remembering his girl saying she hated her job.”

“She’s a wedding planner,” Sarah says, glancing at him because she was almost sure that Renee’s sister was not who Harry was talking about. “But she had referred me to someone else for the wedding, she consulted sometimes and got us a discount, but said she didn’t like working with people she knew personally.”

Harry nodded, how could Renee’s sister be his girl? How could a wedding planner hate weddings? And wouldn’t it be all the more awkward if the girl was Renee’s sister? Renee’s little sister, could it be? He had no clue.

“I don’t think it’s her, though,” Sarah gives a half-smile, “She’s not super...uh, how do I say this?”

As Sarah says “touchy-feely,” Mitch interjects.

“She’s pretty cold-hearted. She’s relatively nice, but what makes her such a good wedding planner is she doesn’t get caught up in the sentimentality of it, she just understands other people’s emotions and knows how to make them feel amazing.”

“That’s a little harsh,” Sarah looks at Mitch with a strong glare. After all, he was talking about her best friend’s little sister.

“Well, what’s her name?” Harry insists, semi-off put, but knowing her secret made him think it was possible for Renee’s sister and his ballroom girl to be the very same.

“Rori Williams, think it’s short for something else, but I don’t know, as long as I’ve known her she goes by Rori.” Sarah gives Harry a sad smile and it reminds him of his mystery girl.

“Do you think I could meet her or something? I just want to know if it’s her.” Harry says as they reach the first peak on their hike. He looks out at the view from there, Los Angeles was green for once, but he knew it would quickly fade to brown and tan as the spring plants died off again from the summer heat.

“Pretty sure she’s off working on some destination wedding right now. She doesn’t like being bothered when she’s working,” Sarah gives Harry a look for two reasons as she says that. One, because she knows his next question would be to contact her anyway. And two, she’s saying how he is exactly the same, hates being contacted when he’s busy with work. “I can text Renee to see what’s up.”

Harry nods, “Please…” He begins to imagine Rori as his ballroom girl and mutters to himself, “A June Wedding…” getting lost in a silly little daydream.

“Harry Styles is asking after you,” Renee snickers over the cellphone line.

“What is this? The 1800s?” Rori sighs, as she holds the phone to her ear with her shoulder. She tries to brush her hair from her face with a flick of her head, which makes for a rather silly sight as her head and shoulder move awkwardly. “People don’t ‘ask after’ anyone anymore.”

She was in Hawaii, Maui specifically, steaming a sneaky last crinkle out of the latest bride’s wedding veil.

“Well, he still is doing it. You know how he is.”

“I actually don’t,” Rori responds, easily, ignoring the memories of her two encounters with him. “What does he want?”

“Wants to meet you or something,” Renee says easily. “Thinks he met you at Sarah’s wedding, obviously impossible since I know you scampered off half way through the reception and he was falling down drunk at the half way marker as well…” she trails off.

Rori knows her sister well and expects the next thing to come out of Renee’s mouth.

“Oh my god! Did you hook up with him?!”

Expecting this, Rori responds quickly and calmly, “No, we did not hook up, I would never... I did watch him fall on his ass, though.”

“So it was you!”

“What was me?” Rori squints her eyes at her sister over the phone and finally straightens from her steaming task. She feels like she’s only half paying attention to the conversation, especially since she had no intention of meeting up with Harry. He had been so sweet and sad, and she truly wished him the best, but she knew she wasn’t the answer to his problem.

“You!” Renee all but yells into the phone, “Are his dream girl! He’s been wondering if you were even real for weeks.”

“I’m real,” Rori sighs and crosses the room she’s in to sit at the desk she was using as a work space. She flicks through the planner she was using for the Hearst wedding, set to take place tomorrow. “But I’m certainly not his dream girl...I told him that when he said he was in love with me.”

“He what?!” Renee exclaims and hears her sister sigh once again, she knows Rori is growing tired of the conversation and is ready to offer an excuse to hang up any moment now. “Nevermind that, I’m going to tell Sarah to give him your number and the date you get back to Los Angeles. Keep next weekend clear.”

Before Rori can open her strawberry pink lips to reply, Renee is squealing a goodbye and hanging up. She felt her shoulders sag with the empty line, she reclined into the nicely plush swivel chair. This is why she stayed out of love and relationships when they didn’t relate to work, they were exhausting. Too much ‘he said, she said’ going on at all times. Color palettes, seating arrangements and menus were simple, they made sense, they could be arranged and put into place. Relationships were messy, the actual event of a wedding could even be messy, but when she planned them out, for a single moment everything was orderly and simple. She was in control. She knew she couldn’t be Harry’s dream girl because she knew she couldn’t control that situation.

Upon arriving back in the continental United States, at the end of June, Rori ubered immediately to her apartment in Silverlake. Well, it was a converted garage behind a house of a friend of Renee’s. Like most apartments in Los Angeles, it was funky, but it was Rori’s until she decided where she wanted to move. She never wanted to buy in LA and she never wanted to upgrade from the place she had called home for the past four years.

Almost immediately after dropping her pink work tote bag and worn backpack on the floor next to her medium sized navy suitcase, her phone rang through the ‘Do Not Disturb’ setting with an unknown number. A New York number. Possibly a new client, she picks up quickly and shuts the window-paned door behind her. The days were long, the longest day of the year had almost arrived, yet the sun was still beginning to set in the sky and turn the light blue into a painting of oranges pinks and purples.

“Hello?”

“Is Rori Williams there?” A British voice asks, almost timidly.

“Who’s asking?”

“...Harry.”

“I was told you’d be calling or something along those lines,” she smiles to herself.

Harry sat in his room, chewing at his lip, still unsure if the voice on the other side of the phone call was the woman he had talked to previously.

“Can we go for a drink sometime? How’s tomorrow?”

“Someone is quite enthusiastic.”

“It’s just...I’m trying to figure something out.”

“So I’ve heard,” she chuckles slightly.

“So you won’t tell me whether you’re the girl I talked to at Sarah and Mitch’s wedding will you?”

“What would be the fun in that?”

“So it’s a right Cinderella, if the shoe fits situation,” he mumbles, slightly to himself, but she hears him clearly.

She laughs.

“I don’t really care for Cinderella, I’m not really one for Disney princesses at all, actually.”

His breath catches, a foggy memory of something having to do with princesses tries to break into his mind. He couldn’t remember still and he vowed time and time again that he would never get that drunk again. Too much time lost.

“Alright, Harry. I’ve just gotten home from a work trip so I’m planning on a bath, some wine, and some terribly raunchy TV to get my mind off of my life. How about you pick a time and a place for drinks and hopefully I will show up? Great! Goodnight.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, just clicks the red button that hangs up the phone and goes on with her professed plans. Harry sits in stunned silence for a few moments, whatever he had gotten himself into was going to be a ride of a lifetime.

At a quarter past six, Harry sits anxiously at the bar top of a semi casual, semi fancy, totally cool bar he loved. It was private so he wouldn’t be bombarded with people, but it was still lively enough that it wouldn’t be dead silent if conversation lulled between him and Rori. That is, if she showed up.

His foot begins to tap, ever so persistently against the silver footrest at the bottom of the bar. His eyes shift from right to left, not wanting to order a drink before she arrives, but also not wanting to wait much longer and not order a drink. He’d waived off the bartender twice already.

She walks in, right on time, Harry had just arrived early. Her lips part into a happy smile at his anxious stance at the bar, he mirrors her expression at the sight of her.

She’s wearing a billowy white button down, the sleeves cinching perfectly at her petite wrists, cinched beneath a brown corset-like tank top. Her breasts showed their true size today in this outfit. She had the collar pulled out and the corset made it so that her cleavage was perfectly sculpted just beneath the crisp white cloth. Her pants were sleek and black, understated to draw more of a focus to her top as well as the lavender jewel inlaid pendant hanging just above the swells of her breast. Harry’s eyes dipped to that level for a moment, but quickly recovered to focus on her face. The night of the wedding had been blurry, but he was sure Rori’s face was the one of his mystery girl.

He’s shy tonight and a little more reserved than last time. He’s out of his comfortable bubble, what could anyone expect from a man so constantly watched. He fidgets with the top most button of his shirt that was buttoned and thinks about unbuttoning it to reveal a little more of his chest, but he refrains. At a friend’s wedding he feels safe, but in public he’s always watching, always aware of the possible prying eye. But like he had said drunkenly to Rori, he always maintained his charm, no matter the circumstances.

“Lavender was gorgeous on you, but this…” he gives a graceful sweep of his hand to gesture at her outfit tonight, “is extremely enchanting.”

“So you remember me in lavender? I thought you couldn’t remember me at all.” She grins as she stands directly beside him, similar to the first time they had chatted at a bartop.

Harry clears his throat at her tease, “I knew once I laid eyes on you, I would know. So now I know.”

She smirks at his reasoning and orders a vodka cranberry, both not wanting to get off her ass or look any certain way. Vodka cranberries were acceptable mature drinks, but not overly pretentious in any way. Harry tells the bartender to make it two. She looks at him with a discerning eye.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” She asks as she slides into the bar seat that seems to be trying to look vintage but was likely made no less than five years ago.

Harry sits too, more easily since his legs are longer than hers. “We met in the ballroom for the first time, did we not?”

“No...we met at the bar in the reception room.” Her hand splays to feel the stone of this counter, cold unlike the wood of the previous one. “We were about this close after you’d rudely stepped ahead of me and ordered before I could...not that you noticed. I asked if you were having a rough night and you pretty much dismissed me.” She bites her lip as she tells him the story, her eyes widen as she watches the distress roll over his features at what she says.

“Oh god,” One of his hands reaches to grab her hand to emphasize his apology, “I’m so sorry, that’s so rude. I was having quite a rough night as you would eventually see.”

He stares at her face, trying to meet her eyes, but she’s glued to the sight of their hands intertwined. He was so smooth and it was making her melt, making the walls she had purposefully put up for this date weak. She had rules, especially for guys like Harry - not that there was anyone that compared to him in her life, but she had them and she knew she couldn’t just be swept off her feet by his sweet voice and gorgeous face that has the most puppy-dog look on it.

She knows she shouldn’t but the extra ice she had added to her personality melts away, her eyes going slightly moony as she watches him visibly relax again. “No worries, I enjoyed your company upon the second meeting, even if you didn’t even remember my name after it.”

“Well,” he finally catches her eye, “That’s where I have a bit of a bone to pick.”

“Oh?”

“You didn’t tell me your real name...gave me some fake name I can’t even remember, but it certainly wasn’t…” His eyes shift to her pendant again and he looks back at her brassy eyes in the bar’s lighting. “If your name is Rori Williams, why is your pendant an ‘A’?” He says slowly, another foggy memory trying to break the surface of his knowledge but still failing.

She finally feels in control of the situation, calm and assured of herself, which was maybe unfair since it seemed Harry really had a hard time remembering that night and she could really fuck with him if she wanted to, but she wouldn’t - couldn’t - with those earnest eyes looking at her.

“I told you my real name the first time we talked, Harry. It’s Aurora,” she retracts her hand from beneath his grasp and touches at the necklace, “I go by Rori both socially and professionally, but officially it’s Aurora and this had been my great-grandmother’s. I don’t go anywhere without it.”

“Almost as beautiful as its wearer,” he smirks, his gaze stuck on her face, attempting to convey something specific. She thinks she knows what he’s saying with his look.

“You’re quite the flirt,” she rolls her eyes playfully before specifically choosing to take a sip of her drink through the little straw the bartender had put in it. It draws Harry’s attention to her lips, and after a moment they were wet with a bit of excess vodka cranberry and Harry felt himself grow a little hot at the tips of his ears when her eyes meet with his. She had caught him staring, but he recovers easily.

“I remember telling you I never lose my charm, it’s true is it not?” Harry inquires, head leaning closer to her as he takes a sip of his own drink, making a show to lick his lips after removing them from the edge of the lowball glass.

Her laughter is loud but not overbearing, Harry thinks it’s the best laugh he’s ever heard even if she’s laughing at him. She’s true in that laugh, she’s not trying to make him fall for her with that laugh, it’s just her enjoying herself.

She responds with something sweet and the two begin the back and forth of a successful date. They both drink around three drinks as the night persists, but it’s enough for her to feel the burning pull inside the pit of her belly for Harry. His hands stay relatively to himself besides a few subtle touches at her hair and hands every so often, his feet are the ones to blame. At one point in the night, he hooks his loafer covered foot around her ankle and she is quick to lean into it, reciprocating the footsie with ease. Each brush of his leg against hers is electrifying, every nerve in her body was beginning to go crazy. She was buzzing in a way that she hadn’t when she had first encountered Harry. Tonight he was more suave, but with a tinge of timidness that made him irresistible.

Harry made sure he wouldn’t get drunk tonight, ordering only as much as Rori. He didn’t want to be the fool who couldn’t remember their time together, again. Plus, he didn’t want to forget any of their time together, he wanted to remember it all. Everything about her was amazing, the feeling he had about her, the nagging desire to meet her was for a reason, he was sure of it. If her voice was a melody, then she was the most beautiful love song he had ever heard.

At 11:30, he leans in close to Rori, his nose brushing at the hair tucked at her ear and asks her if she wants to leave. She looks at him confused, the warm feeling in her stomach falls because she thinks he wants to end the night.

“Oh,” she says dejected, she swore it was going well. “Right..That’s it.”

Harry’s brows crinkle at her sad face.

“No, love, I was saying,” he raises his brows, “Y’know.”

“Oh! Right! You just sounded so...I don’t know, serious.” She sinks in her seat, realizing her presumptions had been wrong.

“I was trying to be,” he twists his lips trying to find the word, as blush rises on his cheeks. “Seductive.”

The two of them are quickly realizing they can’t pretend with each other. Rori can’t keep up the harsh facade against love with him, he sees right through it. Harry can’t play his old tricks with her, she sees right through them.

She laughs again, “Well, it just sounded like you were bored. Sometimes your moves fall really flat.” She offers a sweet wink in consolation for his failed attempt at trying to really get her weak in the knees.

They were a lovesick mess together as they clambered off their bar seats and exit the bar that had gotten increasingly loud.

“So what’s next?” She asks on the warm summer night.

He steps closer and takes the liberty of fiddling with the strap of the corset she has on. His head is tilted down as he towers over her. “You know me Rori, I’m a hopeless romantic so I desperately want to take you out for dinner sometime and slow dance with you until the sun comes up, but,” his breath fans over her face now as he shifts impossibly closer, “I also want to grip your hair as I watch you writhing underneath me. Just tell me what you’d prefer and it’s all yours.”

Her breathing has become a slight pant as his words wash over her. His nose brushes over the ridge of hers and she takes the moment to put her hands on his shoulders and pull him onto her. They were in the alleyway beside the bar, away from prying eyes except a few people too drunk to recognize Harry's face that is all but hidden in Rori.

“Harry,” she breathes, her eyes fluttering shut as she makes the decision to cross them into the point of no return. She wants this too much. She hadn’t thought this would be how her night would go, thought she would brush him off and never see him again, but god, she needed his warm body everywhere. Needed him to touch every part of her.

“Rori,” he responds.

“I want the second one first,” she whispers, feeling a little too eager, but feeling Harry press excitedly against her reassures her.

His lips press a searing kiss to her and she makes a sound of happiness at the contact. Her hands fist at the fabric of his shirt as she presses her lips feverishly back onto his. Harry’s quick to grip at the back of her neck and the small of her back, keeping her tight to him as he licks into her mouth.

“Can still taste that last vodka cran,” he notes before kissing her again.

Their tongues rub against each other, sloppily but with a tenderness hidden there as well. She snorts at his words which makes him smile and they’re kissing is becoming more silly as they try to contain their laughter. He pulls away, finally giving up trying to maintain the kiss while they both laughed.

“Would you like to come back to mine?” Harry asks as he leans his forehead against hers.

Rori’s eyes flicker open and stare into his, the focus only on his eyes and the sprinkle of light freckles and beauty marks below them. She nods her head, making his move with it. They both smile, trying to contain their laughter once more.

She presses her lips against his once more for a small peck and then lowers her head into the crook of his neck. The skin warm and smooth against hers as she whispers happily to him.

“It’s your turn now, Harry,” Rori says blissfully.

She had been the answer to all his questions.

#to lovers fic challenge #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles x ofc #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut

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yostresswritinggirl · 4 years ago

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It is time. This took a while but I figured I should give you guys the closure you've wanted, even tho uh it's not really a closure lmaooo. Here's the first part for the new readers!

Xiao's Personal "Chef" Travel Edition

Xiao with a Reader who is not only his Personal Chef but assistant, adventuring together

General/Preparation

A visionless chef with an adeptus by their side, going in a routeless journey together to savor the world that had once been pulled away from their grasps.

It must be the cause of the recent ressurection and defeat of the Lord of Vortex, immobilizing him once more for thousands of years. And in the window time, there would be less worries for the Qixing and Liyue Adepti to worry about. Think of it as a day-off for the Adepti, and a vacation for you.

While you carry with you no traces of elemental blessings and an enthusiasm for swordplay, the blessed Sigil of Permission given to you by your adeptus (whom claimed it was created by Rex Lapis himself before his untimely death) grants you a special connection with Xiao.

Sadly a vacation from Liyue does not mean a break from the constant voices of demons within Xiao's mind. And you've prepared him the medicine necessary to soothe his mind even if temporary, three bottles to be exact, all of which can last him several months.

He looks at you with confusion and silent question, of which you waved away because you had prepared this batch in your room in the Inn to make sure he doesn't run out of stock.

He doesn't tell you this but lately the voices had been not intrusive while he gets distracted by your presence. Like a soothing balm, to numb the effects of the pain. It's still there but not as annoying.

Your adventure or journey usually lingers around Liyue for the first parts of it, looking around the nation to enjoy the sceneries without thinking about errands or protecting the villages from impending doom.

Xiao already uh announced his indefinite leave to the other adepti beforehand, but well, when you wanted to visit their domains, which you countered was PERFECTLY safe (almighty Sigil of Permission has lots of perks) it was a very awkward time for him upon meeting them again. It was inevitable because of the energy the sensed from Xiao and your Sigil.

"Hello again, Guardian Yaksha, were you not on leave?" "Y-Yeah... we're just... passing through"

Field trip with the Adepti!!!! Moon Carver and Mountain Shaper brought you around their domains as if to test you, like Ganyu's trials, while also flexing their achievements and who has the best domain. Humans are rare, but you are a mortal who carries the last blessed Sigil and you're tamed in the ways of the adepti because of your exposure to Xiao.

Cloud Retainer not only teaches you the glory of gliding, but she also has cute and embarrassing stories of Xiao from way back! Xiao is in the background trying not to scream or rage at the ensemble in front of him-

"He really likes collecting Qingxin flowers, always bringing one whenever he comes back from his exterminations. He even offers one to Morax everytime." "Yes, yes, such flowers grow common before, right?" "Wha- (Y/N), what do you think you're writing down in that book?!"

"The devoted that carries the last essence of Morax's powers. We've heard much about you from your adeptus, it is relieving to finally put a face to your name. Tell us, child, what is it that you seek in our domain?"

They pretty much just outted that Xiao talks about you to the others, and he- he's just so done. He's either going to hide, leave the area or pull you out of the conversation before someone *coughCloudRetainercough* starts embarrassing him in front of you.

Once you've gotten the supplies you wanted to collect from Liyue's wild lands, like flowers or ores, your little party will start going further away from the familiar nation.

Comfort on the Streets

Being the chef in the party, a lot of the time, resource collection stops you short from travelling despite the many prepped ingredients you had carried with you. There's a lot of things laying around and you just couldn't let such opportunities go. Your adoptive mother Verr had taught you to indulge in your curiousities, as a mother, as a traveler, and as a cook.

Xiao takes the brute force, the frontline of being the tank and general fighter of your band. He indulges himself with unhinged strength so long as he was sure that you were perfectly safe from his own barrage of offense. You think in the back of your mind that he's enjoying the exterminations but in his mind he indulges himself with your cheers and praises after fending off some pesky slimes that strayed too close to your temporary camp.

Xiao does not need rest and barely breaks a sweat but you're quite fragile of a human being, you still need rest and consumables, things that you had the luxury of despite working in the Inn. Here you were alone to carry your own weight and care for yourself. You look up from the boiling pot that was settled over the bright campfire to see Xiao's figure coming into view, a freshly killed boar in hand as some kind of offering for your sacred stomach.

You guess now the caring isn't one-sided.

When taking things into careful detail that requires precision and undivided attention, it seems the voices of the demons and revelled gods in the depths of his mind disappears, more so under the presence of you.

So it was the perfect opportunity now that no other errands hold you back, to teach Xiao how to make the infamous Almond Tofu.

When you teach him survival he takes into consideration everything despite the bored/blank face he dons.

Oh but he still prefers your way of cooking, he can never get the same soft texture of the jelly that you easily make.

Xiao doesn't really need to eat but he's glad to be your taste-tester for the new dishes you cook from the random, probably edible, ingredients you find here and then.

The stew continued to boil with bubbles popping despite the fire under it extinguished for a while now. It was an unnamed soup you concocted from the various seafood you've gotten from the ocean paired with the meat the adeptus hunted.

It was delicious. Despite being a palette he was not used to, it was something he can stomach. And despite the different meat mixed in, the flavours didn't clash like he thought it would but instead blended the tastes quite well. Xiao hums as he sips the soup politely, tilting the bowl as he gulps down.

"It is manageable, despite your first try, I can see this being sold in one of the restaurants in Liyue Harbour-" he turns to you as he proceeds to hold out his bowl for seconds when he stopped in his tracks, eyes slightly widening a crack at the sight of tears free falling off your chin.

The spoon on your hand was slack, eyes distant yet dilated as you silently cried. When you felt the glove of his hand cup your cheek, tilting your head to make you face him, your expression cracked to that of grief melded with forced laughter. "It's... it's just like what mum used to make." You sob, and his hand wavered from its touch.

Travelling reopened old wounds. For you and for him.

Xiao doesn't NEED sleep nor does he WANT it, despite the many times you had caught him dozing off in the middle of the day during your work at the Inn. Such occasions usually meant that there was an event that needed his aid the night prior.

Your guardian yaksha usually stays up to keep watch and when you wake up, you would find him spaced out or in the brink of passing out, desperately holding himself together

But there are other times when he feels more restless and not content with just standing guard to make sure you are protected—

Those moments are when you are held in his arms, him resting against a tree and you resting against his lean chest, travel blanket laid over the both of you. When the terrain allows it, the sleeping bag would be under your bottom and legs for extra comfort.

When you can't rest, he whips out his flute to play you a soft tune hoping to lull you to sleep. If he sinks into the comfort of the mood, he'll continue playing much softer to prevent waking you up so early

But the guardian yaksha can buckle at the temptation of comfort, a humanistic desire fuelled by the assurance that in his arms you are absolutely safe-

And you two lay under the stars in peaceful slumber. Good night~

Combat-side of Travelling

Kicking the bottom shaft of the jade spear, Xiao swiftly catches it with his other hand, a small smile aimed for himself at the expert action before he raises his eyes back at you where you lay splayed on the floor. Drenched in your own sweat and desperately breathing. A long, wooden stick discarded by your side.

You pried your eyes open when the rays of the sun suddenly stopped invading through your thin eyelids, the shadow of the Yaksha looming over your form with a rare triumphant smirk. "Yeah, yeah, I know what you're gonna say-"

"I told you so."

"Oh hush you!"

His soft laugh was melodic and it made you break a smile despite the exhaustion.

We've already established beforehand that Xiao is your main dps here and you're just support/utility. But you've expressed your desire to AT LEAST pick up some weight, asking the man to help you hone your weapon proficiency, even if you knew he'd decli-

He accepts. Oh. But it's not about swords sadly, it's for polearms. Since it's the weapon he uses, it's the only thing he can teach you.

Will be CONSIDERABLY gentle in training you compared to his massacres, and will be ever so patient so long as progress is made. Surprisingly, Xiao is actually a really good teacher, and you'd find his points to be precise and on the spot.

He'll be there on the side as you try to fight off a hydro slime for the first time, with the aid of your cheap spear you both from the nearest town over. If you get cornered, he'll be there to instantly swoop in. Fortunately you managed, and he gave an approving nod.

Despite his acceptance to teach he's not gonna let you fight actual threats because he doesn't wish to risk your safety. And you're still gonna be a hundred feet away as he does his job

If he ever managed to hurt you himself, it's... it's not gonna be good, not good at all for the both of you... luckily that hasn't happened! Uh, yet lol

Just admire him from afar, he looks pretty anyways, although the black particles that seem to surround him before the end of the fight

But he'll always come back to you, with a slight limp you always notice despite his attempts to hide, and you'll be there to heal him up

Like a knight to his princess? Or healer, more so

And the process rinses and repeats at your generally peaceful trip

"Oh, oh, I see it! Uuup there!"

His honey amber eyes follow where your fingers point, high and up against the cliff until he sees the glimpse of the swaying violetgrass. No orders needed to tell him what the objective is, but as you place your hand on his elbow when he was about to leap, you had different plans.

"Woohoo!" Please be careful, he shouts in his head as you rode the tides of his Anemo currents, gliding over to where the violetgrass awaits for your plucking hands. When the glider retracts as you grip the cliff face, you broke the stem of the flora. A eureka in your voice as you held it up like a treasure before pushing yourself off the cliffside.

The wind on your back was not harsh, carefully constructed and maneuvered as you seemingly float down into the arms of the awaiting Yaksha, as per routine of your retrieval, "Thank you!"

"Is it in good condition?" It didn't bother you that he has yet to put you down, nodding with a grin as you gently waved the perfectly grown violetgrass in your hand. Satisfied, he turns around to go back to your route when

golden, brown and white silhouettes entered your peripherals among the turn.

"Eh?"

"Ah?"

"Traveler, Paimon and Zhongli?"

"Well, it is the most intriguing that we meet again this far out and in such a circumstance, Xiao and (Y/N)."

Party gained 2 ½ members!

I noticed upon writing that after you started travelling with Xiao, the formality in your tone of speaking started to dissipate. Easing into the comforts of your relationship with him, Xiao is relieved.

@kookieyachi @moaa @dandelion-dreams @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @witchsungie

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact xiao #exile.goblet #exile.flower #sojourner specials #reeeee part twoooo #oh gawd this may not be good as i wanted it to be aww

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lucky-sevens · 4 years ago

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mechs deep lore compilation post

so! maybe you’ve read the other compilation post i made of basic lore/how to get into the mechs! maybe you want to know more! or maybe you’re a fan already and want to see how deep down this rabbit hole you can get!

well, good news for you: i have gone down the rabbit hole and hit bedrock only to find maki yamazaki standing by my side with a pickaxe! it is time for mechs lore part 2: electric boogaloo also known as ‘wow blue have you considered sleep’

rest under the cut!

i’ve tried to organize this, but given how many random facts there are, it’s hard! decided to start off with lore for each character (in order of them joining the mechs in-universe), including all the carmilla lore at the end; then move into general world lore/a bit of album lore, and finally more obscure/unknown facts, such as explaining the whole scuzz thing! also, citing the sources has been difficult, as a lot of things are from, say, old twitter posts and the like. there might be less links here than you all would like, but bear with me- compiling all this lore is quite difficult!

disclaimer: unlike stuff like the wiki, this includes a lot of my own theories and red stringing, and while i’m noting if something’s fanon or canon, the fanon may occasionally make its way into my theories!

links to the songs will be mostly TheVoidSings’ youtube lyric videos, as i don’t want to find the links to all the different platforms they’re on and the videos are lovely and accessible!

also- i’ve done some significant editing on the mechanisms wiki, as have other talented people- go check it out! it’s a good source of lore!

now on w/ the actual post!

crew

jonny d’ville

his lore is fairly concrete, but since he’s an unreliable narrator, we don’t know what bits can be trusted! his backstory song is one eyed jacks, which gives a pretty clear picture of events, but here in his crew bio he says that he made up new texas, and doesn’t have a very good memory of events in general. (it’s implied that he didn’t lie about killing his father, but we don’t even know that for sure.) a note: unlike the others, we don’t know what happened to his heart in order for him to be mechanized.

the aurora

the aurora’s lore is a mess. here’s what we know for sure, which is an edited version of what i have on her wiki page, (where i have also given a list of her known physical attributes);

she started off as a moon, but was weaponized and turned into a ship. she initially was a navy ship, but mutinied and joined the rebellion, participating in the october revolution, in which nastya died and was mechanized. this may have been her choice, but it is more likely that carmilla and/or jonny forced her into it, as they are the ones who won her from the cyberian navy.

when they stormed the ship, a woman was trapped inside- specialist 278 tereshkova, presumably aurora's programmer. What her and aurora's relationship was like is unknown, but aurora did not make any attempt to save her, so it may have not been positive. before dying, tereshkova managed to program a final distress message into aurora, as well as coding the mechanisms' blog.

she’s likely to be based off of the historical battleship aurora, like nastya is based off of the historical russian princess anastasia.

now, it’s time to get into the main theory about her: that aurora used to be briar rose! i’m collecting all the evidence on it, as well as all the evidence that can disprove it.

here’s a refresher on briar rose’s whole deal, taken from ‘the aurora strikes’-

The Rose Reds were the most effective of the soldiers created from Rose's genetic material, but they were not the first. Rumours spoke of an early prototype, known as the Briar Rose, that had malfunctioned and slain everyone on the desert moon of Briar, where she was being grown. But she was not dead. As the Mechanisms discovered, instead, she slept, at the heart of the defence grid that surrounded New Constantinople. The grid was composed of Thorn-class gun emplacements and was virtually impenetrable. And in its centre, the Briar Rose slumbered, plugged into the system, her anger, her rage, her hatred and her fear, fueling the machines, and focusing their gun turrets.

the main support for the theory here is that over time, briar rose could have fused to the moon, which is one of the very few conditions in which a biomechanical weaponized moon seems plausible and not just like a collection of vaguely cursed words. however, in the fiction ‘by any other name’, which is some collected lab research on briar rose, there’s this line- “During transportation and integration of the specimen, take all precaution and care.”- key word here being transportation. so she must have been moved off the moon.

the fiction i cited to disprove the theory actually has something that further supports it, though- the presence of a mysterious woman in king cole’s lab, who could be carmilla. hood, the revolution’s hacker, notes on a picture of her ‘[No idea. The others I’ve been able to find evidence of, but she’s a fucking ghost]‘. the description is a bit off, though, as she’s described as a short, pale, woman with hair long enough to be pulled back and carmilla is quite tall and has short hair- as well, in a later part of the fiction, the woman is killed and does not revive. however, there’s also another who could plausibly be her, noted here- ‘A tall woman sits opposite Prof. Root with a tray of her own. From her stature, it is conceivable she was one of the figures in the chemical suits. They talk sporadically, but the audio is heavily corrupted.’ she isn’t one of the ones killed later on, either, so that’s possible.

we know carmilla knew aurora when she was a very young moon and raised her practically from birth, so if she is one of those two people, it would make sense.

in ‘the aurora strikes’, aurora pushes to save briar rose- nastya explains this as ‘she can not bear to see another biomechanical organism in pain’. in my own writing about aurora, i interpret that as her having very high empathy, but there could be a more personal connection here. this is also notable as the only time aurora is mentioned in-album beyond jonny calling the mechanisms ‘the crew of the starship aurora’.

nastya rasputina

nastya’s backstory song (cyberian demons) was only performed when they were still dr. carmilla and the mechanisms, so it’s harder to find! thevoidsings has made a lyric video of it here, though, and it gives another very clear picture of her backstory! there’s also the fiction of the same name, which i didn’t understand upon first read-through but is basically a nastya character study, covering different points in her immortal life.

her performer went on hiatus for a while, and as an in-universe explanation, the cyberian sequence was written! in which nastya flies aurora to cyberia, infects herself with a computer virus, and transmits it to the entire planet, causing it to explode. this is all in the cyberian demons fiction i linked above, and with it are two other tangential fictions- one presumably just before those events, and one that’s an outsider pov.

there’s also out, which i’d suggest reading rather than just looking at my summary; basically, nastya has a crisis over aurora changing so that it’s harder to recognize her love, and ends up leaving the ship to float away into deep space- this is presumed to be her death, but that is never confirmed and nastya seems to assume she will wake up at some point.

ashes o’reilly

ashes’ whole deal is quite straightforward, which is a nice break from aurora and (to a lesser extent) nastya! their backstory song is lucky sevens, and it’s elaborated on further in their crew bio; interestingly, ashes was the one most into the idea of immortality at first, and also gave clear consent to carmilla.

ivy alexandria

we don’t know that much about ivy, which is fitting, as she doesn’t either! the most clear information we can find about her is in her crew bio, which can be summarized as: she grew up in a library!

archive footage explains more about her memory situation. she has no memories of anything before she was mechanized, according to this line ‘[...] she can tell you dates, and places, and body counts, she can list for you the exact circumstances of each event of her long, long life (at least, every event since that time, long ago, among a maze of bookshelves in a library that, awake, she can no longer describe to you, though once she knew its every turn by heart, when a woman stood over her and offered her eternity: before that, there is nothing at all).’ she also processes her memories differently than most people- they’re more like records, instead of things that affect her emotionally. (archive footage is also beautifully written and very much worth reading!)

the toy soldier

would say it has concrete lore, but it’s also almost solely responsible for fucking up my timeline and the album lore, so i’m rather angry at it. nevertheless, its entire backstory can be found in the fiction ‘the story of the toy soldier’. additionally, there’s a short story about its time fighting in the revolution of once upon a time (in space); presumably, this is the first time it did so, though it was likely in the war at least twice and possibly even three times. the mechanisms were only watching the second time, though it’s not out of character for it to have participated in the war again, and there’s also the dr. carmilla song, eleven, (which is about a war and uses a lot of rose symbology so it’s likely the revolution) where it is present. notably, carmilla had left the mechanisms by the time once upon a time (in space) takes place on their timeline, and the toy soldier is the only one there. at first, i interpreted that as carmilla meeting the toy soldier before it had met the mechanisms, but there’s two inconsistencies there: firstly, it doesn’t recognize her when it joins the band, and secondly, in the song they leave together. this increases the likelihood of it having been in the war three times.

we actually have a recording of the toy soldier’s first time joining the band- the mechanisms @ lashings! (part one / part two / transcript) there’s also a note of that show in the story of the toy soldier! they bought it because jonny was in jail (x). interestingly, that show is the first recording of rose red, and it’s later noted jonny was in a rose red prison!

now it’s time to get into the main theory regarding it, which also will factor into the write-up of ulysses dies at dawn later! i personally subscribe to this theory, or at least, most of it.

here is frankie @byron-von-raum‘s post- the theory here is that the toy soldier is the rebodied mind of the widow’s fiance. i’m not going to get too into that part, as i don’t personally incorporate it into my lore and more importantly frankie already has a post on it! read that if you’re more interested!

the most important bit here is the evidence it collects regarding the toy soldier living near labyrinth; in one of the pictures from the toy soldier’s backstory, there’s a dionysus brand wine bottle. the consensus he comes to is that the toy soldier lives in a colony of earth that trades with labyrinth, and while i think that’s possible, the all-encompassing nature of the city makes it more likely that they would have a minimum of outside communication, so the toy soldier would just be from the city proper. i will get into the impacts of this/expand on it more in the world lore section!

another thing: the angel has an out of character explanation! if you look at photos of old mechs gigs, jessica law looks similar to the drawing of the angel in the story of the toy soldier! their voice being stolen was most likely a reference to that.

drumbot brian

brian’s backstory is laid out in his crew bio! i’d summarize it, but to be honest, it’s already a summary, so i’d suggest just taking a second to read that! sadly, this is all of what we know about it. the priest from his backstory was apparently made almost immortal in some twisted form of mechanization, and has never forgiven brian for it/is still trying to hunt him down (x).

his bio is also where his morality switch is introduced! (interestingly, it takes a far lower role/is mentioned far less in canon than in fanworks.)

there was originally going to be a backstory album about him called indistinguishable from magic. this never happened, but ben below is working on a new one called the wanderings of drumbot brian! no more knowledge on this currently.

the main theory about him is that he had some kind of alliance/is lying about something to do with carmilla! we know from maki that carmilla didn’t go out of the airlock (more on that in her section), and when brian is questioned on what happened to her, he doesn’t give a concrete answer. this is in contrast to all the other mechanisms, who assume she fell out an airlock. here’s what he said:

I will not point fingers and lay blame. I do not know how it came to pass that Dr. Carmilla left this vessel, whether by fair means or foul, and so I will not engage in this painful discussion. I hope she did not suffer, and that we may forgive the perpetrator of this deed.

he’s speaking very formally here. (fucking nerd). well, no; legitimately, this is not the normal way he speaks in other contexts. he could be masking something. we know that even when he’s lying, he’s not good at it, and this comes off as clearly odd. in support of this, i believe one of the songs on his unwritten backstory album was called ‘the doctor’s demise’ (though i could be remembering incorrectly).

there’s not much more evidence we can draw on here to come to a consensus, though!

something else to note- i’ve written this other meta about his prophetic powers! feel free to read if you’re interested in that aspect of his character!

gunpowder tim

of course, tim already has a whole mini-album to himself (gunpowder tim vs the moon kaiser), but there’s a couple more niche things about him, though not as much as aurora and ts!

mainly, the implications that he destroyed the sun. there’s an old mechanisms tweet that states he 'was floating in the wake of a detonated star’. additionally, there’s this old blog post, which turned into a bit of a fiction! the figure speaking is not named, but given the other mechanisms who speak (therefore knocking them off the possibilities list) and the fact that the post was made around the time tim joined, it’s likely that it’s him. now, he says this:

“It wasn’t the deep space that drove me crazy,” he said, his voice low, calm and polite. “It was the sudden realisation that I was entirely responsible for the destruction of my entire civilisation, and happy for it.”

though destroying the moon and his other actions in gptvtmk could possibly count for this, it would fit more if he had destroyed the sun.

both those posts also imply that he was floating in space for an incredibly long time. i don’t know how he survived if so, but it seems very likely that’s what happened.

i considered these posts being too early/having a changed canon now, like the odd use of different pronouns for some characters in the earlier fiction, but they seemed to have gunpowder tim vs the moon kaiser mostly worked out by the time tim ledsam officially joined, as they perform it at the only recorded gig from that year with him (port mahon 2011), which was around when the second blog post was made!

marius von raum

we don’t have a written backstory or backstory song to go on for him, but kofi young (his performer) is working on a full album about him called ‘the death of byron von raum’!

the blog post kofi made about it as a summary is the main source of marius lore that we have! i’d highly suggest reading it, but the main points are:

1. it’s going to be very dark and tragic, and shows that marius at heart isn’t really the kind of comedic figure that he comes off as in the band! ruth @thedreadvampy (the mechanisms’ official artist, as well as morgan’s sister and kofi’s partner) has also made a tumblr post that connects to this!

2. the world he’s from used to be high-tech, but has devolved over time into 18th century levels of technology! what this boils down to is; what we assume is marius and an unknown friend (more on this in raphaella’s part) manage to discover ancient technology and attempt to use it! all we have here is this quote om the blog post- ‘In the middle of this, two kids hiding from the soldiers discover an army of ancient mecha and use them to fight back, but only end up plunging the world into further chaos.’.

3. anime protagonist marius!

we also have this small piece of writing, screenshotted here (monogoggle...)-

[image id: a screenshot of writing, most of it out of view/hard to make out. it’s also in the middle of the line, so the breaks are off. however, it looks to say ‘at the controls of RISML/cockpit is cramped and d[...]/has his monogoggle over his/controls are uncomplicated/the neural interface. They [...]’ end id.]

raphaella la cognizi

i’ve been very deep down the mechs rabbit hole for over a month now, and yet i’ve found hardly anything about her!

there’s a small theory i have, though it doesn’t have too much supporting evidence! in marius’ backstory, it mentions two kids, and raphaella and marius joined together (first mention of either of them is together, in this facebook post!) when questioned about marius and raphaella, nastya says a story instead of stories (x). (that post also clarifies that carmilla was not involved in either raphaella or marius’ backstories!) this could potentially point to raphaella being the other person from marius’ backstory. the evidence against it is that if raphaella featured that heavily, r. l. hughes would have said something about the album as well instead of it just being kofi talking about marius, but it’s still interesting to think about!

there’s also a theory that she was the preacher’s daughter from brian’s backstory, but the only real evidence there is that she could have used his tech to mechanize herself (which her doing is only fanon!) and that she performs ‘lost in the cosmos’.

dr carmilla

this is most likely going to be the shortest section, as it’s basically another crew member; that being said, there’s a lot of lore here!

if you haven’t listened to the carmilla albums, i’d really suggest doing that! there’s two- exhumed and (un)plugged and ageha prototype edition! the story there is harder to put together than in the mechs backstories, especially because the songs are mostly out of order, so i’ve decided to just straight up summarize my interpretation, along with what we have to go on from maki, instead of framing it like a theory, as that’s the easiest way! still, please bear all this with a grain of salt- it’s most likely to be contradicted in the new album maki is working on.

carmilla and her girlfriend loreli lived on a planet called terra. for their childhoods, it was a fairly okay place to live (though i elaborate on this a bit in the world lore section!) however, it was bombed; most likely taking the role of an alternate universe hiroshima, as the blurb on her bandcamp says ‘Dr. Carmilla tells the twisted tales of a dystopian future following WWII having ended very differently.‘ after this, the planet sunk into a nuclear winter.

loreli got sick and died; or, she should have, but carmilla saved her by turning her into a vampire as well. this resulted in loreli losing her morals and becoming abusive towards carmilla. carmilla was too deep in love to see this, and stayed in the relationship for several years.

we don’t know what happened to make her strike out on her own, but eventually she did, and created the mechanisms. while with them, she recognized her own failures with loreli, and left the mechanisms (which they all believe was caused by jonny d’ville pushing her out an airlock, rather than her own volition.)

from there, she traveled back in time to the point where loreli was dying, and let it happen- potentially burying herself and loreli alive, which she survived due to her immortality and loreli did not.

however, she was trapped underground for a hundred years. when she is finally found and dug out, she starts enjoying herself (i.e. committing murder). for some unknown reason, she clones herself multiple times, creating the in-universe version of maki yamazaki.

the mechanisms assume she pursued them after she was pushed out of the airlock, and that that was what eleven was about, but i’m not sure why she would do that, given that she left them of her own volition. because of time shenanigans, it could have been far later on her personal timeline; maybe she simply wished to reconnect with them after all those years.

that’s all we have; we don’t know if she died, or anything like that!

world lore

all the folktales and normal history the irl mechs work off of also exist in-universe! (for an example- the toy soldier and ivy start reciting the walrus and the carpenter together in lashings, and the mechs also do alice in wonderland as a song.)

we know the alternate universe theory is correct, mostly because of this piece in the fiction on kofi’s blog-

In those burning instants, he’d feel the weight of it all, and know it was true. The golden age that never came; the city that stood at the dawn of a world instead of in its dying embers. And beyond – to a myriad of Camelots and a thousand thousand Arthurs, unfathomable worlds apart, each different, each fighting the same hopeless battle.

He’d feel the burden of that task pressing down until it felt like it’d crush his chest, and he’d wake every day gasping for breath, feeling older than he ever had, older even than Ector.

And as he screamed inwardly, Galahad would meet his gaze with those crazed eyes of his and grin, and Arthur would know again that whatever had spoken to Galahad was moving him too.

the mechanisms are most likely traveling between several alternate universe versions of folktales, and occasionally alternate versions of earth! (cyberia, tim’s earth, terra...) this is likely why everyone in their stories is human, and is actually low-key evidence against drawing them as aliens (though ofc feel free to have fun!)

i was initially going to put all the album lore in its own separate sections, but a large amount of it is how it intersects with other pieces of lore, and the rest isn’t necessarily niche enough to cite here? my personal advice is that if you want to learn more about the albums, read the fiction! i have a compilation post of all the fiction up on this blog, and you can find it on the website here!

let’s start with the mechanisms’ roles in ulysses dies at dawn, though! we know for sure ashes is hades, brian is the oracle of delphi, and the toy soldier was a nymph (which is actually quite worrying, considering what that means and the inherent issues with consent there, but i digress.) tim most likely took on the role of achilles (more on that here). then, we know some of the mechanisms’ activities and can guess their roles from that. raphaella was helping athena on her research, marius was psychoanalyzing the olympians, and jonny was committing mass murder. it’s a common theory that one (or three) of the mechanisms was cerberus, but sadly i couldn’t find any evidence towards or against that.

i said in the toy soldier’s section that i would talk more about the implications of it being from labyrinth here! the main thing is the fact that, for it to join the rose red war, the city must have interacted with king cole at some point. it’s a risky thing to pose a theory on the toy soldier’s allegiance towards a certain group, but the fact that it seemed to stick with the rose reds here might also mean that the city was, in fact, under king cole’s power. this fits in nicely with the greek mythology aspect of it all; king cole, in that universe, could have been a stand-in for the figure of kronos/saturn!

a few other theories on how the lore intersects:

1. high noon over camelot takes place after the bifrost incident! in terminus, we see communication breaking down, and that could have been the reason the station was isolated. the mechanisms go from it to the bifrost incident, but as they canonically travel in time, that’s not enough to disprove the theory!

2. arthur becomes king cole eventually! this is mostly going off of the fact he’s called ‘the once and future king’, but also the fact that cole used to be considered a good king.

a few loose pieces of worldbuilding:

people from new constantinople seem to be longer lived, and their culture is built around age as a concept. the older you are, the more wise and important you are. specifically, in this fiction, snow is dismissively noted as ‘barely fifty’ and king cole’s age is held up as evidence to why he’s a good ruler.

terra, carmilla’s planet, has two major languages; high terran and low terran! high terran is a more regulated, formal way of speaking, specifically something that only the rich and privileged tend to know. there are many dialects, but the grammar is dictated by the capital. low terran is a creole language formed from several others, including high terran, that most children are taught in school as the baseline. (though they might speak a completely different, less widely spoken language at home!) carmilla speaks low terran but not high terran (although she pretends to know the latter.)

the mechanisms were all (or mostly all) at fort galfridean at one point; don’t have the source to hand, but marius apparently became a prophet to the saxons for staring into the sun for a very long time.

if you’re looking to draw album fanart, there are a few things i know aren’t as widely known; the ones i can think of off the top of my head is orpheus having a ‘foppish haircut’ (the type of thing that falls under that definition is narcissus’ undercut), and snow’s disfiguring scar. there is also official album art; i, personally, have not seen much of it, and i’d encourage coming up with your own character interpretations.

one last theory- it’s highly likely carmilla was involved in the events of the bifrost incident. in the mechscord (sadly, invites are closed due to the difficulty with handling the boom in the fanbase) maki yamazaki has mentioned that part of the criteria for picking a mechanism is ‘good friend for lyf’. at first, i assumed that she meant good friend for life, but when asked on that she was worryingly cryptic (as tends to happen), and she made a joke earlier in character as doc c about accidentally calling odin. though immortal lyfrassier edda most likely became fanon just so they could become a mechanism, this is a piece of evidence towards them actually becoming immortal.

my personal headcanon is that to gain true immortality (which maki has said king cole and the olympians do not have) you have to have some kind of eldritch component, so carmilla had to go to odin for aid. this is supported by the fact that in drive the cold winter away and cyberian demons, their mechanisms are noted as having a rainbow sheen to them!

other lore

scuzz nishimura

scuzz has built up a bit of a reputation for being the ‘cryptid mech’, but her lore is really quite simple! she was a member of the band back when they were doctor carmilla and the mechanisms, but left before they became more popular, so there’s not too much knowledge about her. she appears in this fiction and the only two recorded gigs from that era (lashings and homesick). she’s also visible in several photos!

i know i’ll get people in the notes asking for photos of her if i don’t include any, so have this;

[image id: a cropped picture of scuzz nishimura, looking tired and resting her head on her hand. she looks to be wearing white gloves and some kind of sweater or waistcoat, and her hair is cut short. her cello is also visible, as is someone else’s hand. end id.]

we don’t know too much about her; all we really have is that she was their cello player!

assorted things with no explanation

there’s this old piece from the wayback machine-

[image id: a screenshot of what looks to be the fiction page from a old site for dr carmilla and the mechs. the writing reads;

Writing

( The Aldwich Horror } A short story in which Dr. Carmilla attempts to solve the mysteries of the Aldwich Horror, the strange appearance of a new crew memeber and several zoologically dubious pets.

( Disinterration } A cautionary tale about exhuming corpses.

end id.]

‘disinterration’ is most likely a reference to the carmilla song exhumed, but i’m unsure about ‘the aldwich horror’. the most intriguing bit there is ‘the strange appearance of a new crew member’. i’ve researched the other aspects in an attempt to figure this out. aldwych is a closed london tube station- it served as a bomb shelter during the blitz, which is interesting as both carmilla and tim have backstories involving the world wars (though only carmilla’s is world war ii specifically; tim’s is wwi). the zoologically dubious pets are most likely the octokittens, which we know the toy soldier brought on board, so it would have to be in a place on the timeline after ts joined and before carmilla left. the only mechanism that joins in that space is gunpowder tim, so it’s possible that he is the new crew member.

the mechanisms blogs have a lot of incidental lore, so if you’re this deep in i’d suggest looking at my compilation post of some of my favorite posts of theirs!

and that’s it! we did it! i can finally go to sleep now. i’m so tired. please. i am going to die. i have homework. thank you all so much. please consider coming to my funeral service.

#the mechanisms #the mechs #my posts #compiliation post #meta

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dreamy625 · 2 years ago

Text

This rockstar life - 3.4 Therapy couch? Blanket?

Words: 2735

Content: Some discussion of mental health issues but no heavy angst. The occasional swearword.

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

Steve hears the front door slam and Alice comes pelting down the stairs.

“Look look look! We’re in ‘Hello!’. Brian’s party.”

“Hmm, is that going in or coming out? Because we look pretty messed up.”

“We look like… dissolute artists! I think it’s going in? You were up all night trying to write that… thing, remember, and then we couldn’t get a cab, and it rained. Karla helped me fix my make-up in the loo. Okay, it’s not the best picture ever, but I’m still gonna frame it!”

Still peering intently at the page, she wanders into the kitchen. Ten seconds later, she is back again. “Oh god! This means people are going to know about us!”

“People already know about us?”

“People we know, know, but PEOPLE… in the world.”

“Only people who read ‘Hello!’.”

“Which is EVERYBODY!”

“Well, look, it doesn’t say your name, it just says ‘and companion’. And you’re sort of blurry. You could be anyone. It’s fine. No one will care. I don’t think I’m the kind of famous where paparazzi hide in my bins.”

“Are your fans going to hate me?”

“No! What for?”

“For stealing their man.”

“Seriously?”

“I’ve seen some of your fans, they’re terrifying. Their nails alone…”

He pulls her into a hug “Don’t be silly. No one’s going to hate you. And if anyone says anything, you can just say you’re my assistant or something.”

“I could be your bodyguard!”

“What are you gonna do, half-pint, bite their ankles?!”

She swats at him, “I’ll… stab them with my eyeliner.”

“Scary.”

—----------------------------------------

Although I was fairly horrified the first few times we were papped, it’s actually more surprising to me now that it doesn’t happen all that often. I was worried, at the start, that I was signing up for a life of camera flashes and being mobbed by fans and not being able to go to Sainsburys* without ending up in the Daily Mail*. But it turns out that, unless you’re Brian May or someone like that, the British media in general isn’t so interested in guitarists. The music press is, but they don’t have the money to follow you around just on the off chance that you’ll do something scandalous. And as for crazed fans, that seems to be a context thing - at an event, especially if the whole band’s together, there’ll be crowds wanting pictures and autographs - but just Steve hanging out doing ordinary-people things in London rarely gets recognised. He’s also got some sort of Clark Kent thing going on where in jeans and trainers and hair in a ponytail he’s essentially invisible, but fluff out the hair, put on a leather jacket, boots, and shades, and there’s a rockstar! You can literally see him assume the persona, grow a couple of inches taller, and suddenly everyone notices him. And thank gods he is able to turn it on and off like that, because otherwise I think he’d go crazy, he’s so shy. And it allows us to have little pockets of normal life away from the Def Leppard circus, without which I think I’d go crazy.

It is in pursuit of one of those pockets of normality that today, when the sun came out and you could almost believe it was summer, I proposed a trip to the park. Steve spends so much time shuttling back and forth to Dublin and Holland, and when he is here he mostly sleeps or lurks down in the music room playing what sounds to me like the same eight bars over and over again, that I feel we’ve barely seen each other in daylight for weeks. He doesn’t, I’ve checked, actually burst into flames when exposed to sunlight, but you wouldn’t know it from the amount of grumbling when I drag him from the stygian gloom of the basement and make him get dressed and brush his hair. The prospect of a picnic perks him up though and, once we’ve filled a bag with a random assortment of goodies from the fridge (all hail the amazing Debbie who saves us from literally starving to death), he becomes positively cheerful as we cross the bridge to Battersea Park, swinging our clasped hands and swivelling his head to take in the sky, the river, the cars, the people, as if he’d forgotten they existed.

Battersea is basically your standard London park - bandstand, sports pitches, boating lake for careless tourists to fall in, eight million pigeons (conservative estimate). It’s always busy but we locals know that once you get off the designated paths you can find less-populated corners where you can even imagine you’re in actual countryside. After wriggling through a few hedges we found ourselves a sheltered spot to sit with a view of the lake in the distance, just us, an industrious squirrel, and the occasional dog-walker and their hound.

“I told my counsellor about us today. Should have done it ages ago really, but now photos of us are turning up in magazines I really had to. And apart from anything else, she needed to know where to send the bills to!”

“So how did it go?”

“Okay really. She was less cross than I expected.”

“Why would she be cross? Are you not allowed to have a boyfriend?”

“Well, not telling her before, and that you’re… um… maybe not the stable good influence she might have hoped for.”

Steve looks slightly sheepish. “What did you tell her about me?”

“Pretty much everything. There’s no point lying to her, she always finds out. She started to look a bit sceptical when I said who you were, but I showed her a photo so she does believe you’re real now. Though she had no idea who Def Leppard are!”

He pouts and pretends to be offended.

“She promised to buy a record though, so you might get a new fan. Or not. She looks more like the Duran Duran type to me.” I realise I’ve dissected the sandwich I was holding so I drop the bits back into the box and wipe my hands on a serviette. “Anyway, she was worried that I’d got myself involved with someone so ‘troubled’...” I do air quotes and Steve grimaces, “but I said I didn’t think I’d get on with someone normal. And then we had to have a discussion about why I don’t see myself as normal…”

“Because you’re weird?” interjects Steve, and I poke my tongue out at him.

“Then she segued back into being concerned that the relationship would be too much of an emotional drain on me and would derail my recovery.”

“Oh,” he looks sad, “it’s not is it?”

I think for a second. “I don’t think so? I mean, I’m better than I was in the hospital, aren’t I? What does ‘recovery’ even mean anyway? And I don’t think I’ve picked up any of your bad habits.”

“Mmm, I think you smoke more?”

“Maybe? More than in the hospital certainly, because I was a good girl and didn’t break the rules, unlike some people!”

Steve smirks, but then his face turns serious again, “You will tell me though? If… being with me is making you unhappy, or making your stuff worse?”

“I would, but it’s not. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He’s dipped his head down bashfully, but I reach out and tilt his chin back up so I can give him a little kiss.

“So, have you told yours, good old Eddie?”

Steve swallows the last mouthful of his beer and turns around to lie on the blanket with his head on my crossed legs. “Yeah… mostly… I left a few things out.”

“Like what?”

He lights a cigarette, inhales, and then passes it up to me. “Like that we met at the hospital. As that’s not allowed. And as he’s from there, I didn’t know if he’d be able to go and look at your records or something, and that would be weird.”

“Hopefully not, they’re supposed to be confidential. But he works there, so I guess maybe he could? I don’t really know what the rules are.” I pass the cigarette back. “So how did it go?”

“Dunno. He said ‘hmm’ a lot and wrote a million notes. He never gives an opinion on anything, just says ‘and how did that make you feel?’ over and over.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

“Annoyed.” He blows out a big cloud of smoke. “And… emotionally stunted. I can only ever manage ‘happy’, ‘sad’, or… ‘scared’.”

“Well that covers pretty much all the bases. I can give you some synonyms if you like? Make some use of that English degree. How about ecstatic? Melancholy? Petrified?”

Steve smiles and takes a last drag on the cigarette before stubbing it out in the grass. “Useful for crosswords I guess.” He settles back and closes his eyes.

I reach down and brush a wayward tendril of hair off his face. “And… how do you feel? About… us?”

“Um… all of the above.”

“Melancholy? Petrified?”

“Petrified that I’ll screw it up like I do everything else.”

“Aww, no, you couldn’t.”

“Heh, you would be amazed at how good I am at fucking up.”

“I think I could forgive you almost anything. Is that bad? Are we codependent?”

“Probably. I’ll ask Eddie.”

“But that’s not carte blanche to go off and… kick puppies or whatever!”

“I could never.” There’s a pause while he swats away some buzzing creature that keeps hovering around his ear. “Actually…”

“Oh no!”

“No puppies. I swear!” He’s twisting the ring on his little finger round and round, a sure sign that he’s grappling with something that makes him anxious. “Just, he, Eddie, wants you to come to my next appointment. He wants to know what your,” he puts on some vaguely European accent that I assume is an impersonation of his therapist, “expectations of my recovery are.”

“Am I supposed to have some?”

“Apparently. He thinks I’ve stalled, and wants to know what you, as my,” he grimaces, “life partner, feel about that.”

“I feel… like it’s up to you, but I support you whatever. Will that do?”

“Aww.” Briefly he looks up at me with a tender expression before flicking his gaze back to the distant skyline. “He’ll still want to talk to you though.”

“Also, ‘life partner’?”

“I know, sorry. He just talks like that. So will you come?”

“Am I going to get in trouble for not making you go to AA meetings?”

“Course not. Responsibility for self and all that. He talks like a textbook, but I think he’s an okay guy underneath all that.”

“Then yeah, I’ll come, if it helps.”

“Thank you.” He reaches his hand up and squeezes my knee, closing his eyes once again.

“What am I supposed to say?”

“Anything you like.”

“Mwah ha ha!”

“True stuff! You can’t make things up.”

“Spoilsport.”

Steve just grins lazily.

Gazing down at that sweet face, he looks so peaceful. Today is a good day. But although it’s true what I said, he is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I am, by my standards, quite astonishingly happy, I do worry quite a lot. About him mostly, but also about us as a couple. I’m not expecting him to come back one day from therapy magically fixed. I want him to be safe, and of course to be happy, and if stopping drinking would do that I would be all for it, and do whatever I could to help him. But I suspect that’s not the answer, definitely not the whole answer anyway. So if he can’t, well, that doesn’t change how I feel about him and I’m never going to give him a ’stop or I’ll leave’ ultimatum. I know he’s not the way he is on purpose. He didn’t choose it. None of us choose to be miserable and fucked up. So I just work on the basis that he’s doing the best he can - even if he’s a total mess, that’s the best he can do in that moment. But I am scared, about how bad it could get, and whether I could cope. I guess we’ll find out when, if, it happens. It’s not like I can unlove him afterall.

“Think you’re stuck with me.”

I realise I’ve said that part out loud but, although his eyelids flutter, there’s no response. He’s asleep, still with one arm wrapped round my leg, like a little kid hugging a teddy bear.

—----------------------------------------

The session with Dr Eddie, when we manage to fit it in around Steve’s band commitments, my work hours, and the psychotherapist’s appointments with more demanding patients, is stressful, awkward, and ultimately disheartening. I have to talk about how Steve’s behaviour affects me, but as if he’s not right there in the room, chewing through a whole handful of fingernails because he’s not allowed to smoke. It’s horrible. I’m doing it to help him, and trying to be honest because I know they can’t help you if you lie to them, but I have to say things that I know must be painful to hear, and I feel like I’m betraying the person I love most in the world. Kind of like that therapy they do in rehab where they get your nearest and dearest to tell you over and over what a terrible human being you are and how you’re ruining everyone else’s lives. I’m not sure how anyone even imagines that is going to work on people who already think they’re worthless failures. It’s been threatening rain all afternoon and the room has darkened to an appropriate gloom by the time I finish answering his questions.

And then I’m not sure what it’s all been for, because the therapist’s conclusion is that Steve has probably come as far as he’s going to with this approach and would now benefit from seeing someone with a different specialism (he says ‘mood disorders’, but I’m not really sure what that covers). And also that we should consider couples’ counselling, sorry, not couples’ counselling, ‘counselling as a couple’ (apparently there’s a distinction, but either sounds horrifying tbh). Steve tries to keep his face neutral but I can tell he feels let down, betrayed even. The doctor tries to frame it as a positive outcome, one step completed on the road to… it’s not really clear what the ultimate destination is. Maybe that’s the problem. We both shake his hand as we leave, good old British social etiquette even in times of emotional upheaval.

“Remember I’m always here if you need me.”

Steve just nods. I feel numb, as if my brain has been wrung out leaving just a slow-blinking empty sign. Neither of us speaks on the way out, before falling into a tight, wordless hug on the steps outside.

“Do you think he’s watching?”

“Probably. Scribbling away in his little book.”

We peel apart and both simultaneously reach into our pockets for cigarettes.

“Pub?” asks Steve, and, noticing my raised eyebrow, “Yeah, ironic.”

Without further discussion, we head for the nearest hostelry, only breaking our grip on one another’s hands so Steve can light a second cigarette from the stub of the first.

“You alright?”

Steve replies with a smoky sigh, “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry… about… all that. I wasn’t… I hope I didn’t… I hated doing that.”

He squeezes my hand. “Don’t worry about it. Nothing I didn’t know already. It was sweet of you to come.”

“But… did I do it wrong? Was it because of what I said…?

“No. That’s all me.” He gives a hollow laugh, “This is not the first time I’ve been fired by my therapist. I’m incurable… a… lost cause.”

“But no you’re not. You heard him, he thinks you’ve made real progress. You just need a different kind of help now. Someone with different expertise.”

“But he’s the only one I’ve had who isn’t a total arsehole.”

“Yeah. Not-an-arsehole seems to be quite a rare quality in a therapist. You’d think they’d put it in their adverts!” My attempt at humour raises just a polite twitch of Steve’s lips. “He can’t be the ONLY one though, right?”

“Right.” replies Steve flatly, chaining a third cigarette.

Just then the clouds finally release fat, splatty raindrops onto the streets and we make a run for the bright doorway of The Three Tuns.

(May 1990)

—----------------------------------------

*Sainsburys - UK supermarket chain

*Daily Mail - trashy tabloid ‘newspaper’

#Steve Clark #steve clark fanfic #steve clark fanfiction #def leppard fanfic #def leppard fanfiction #This rockstar life fic

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moonctzeny · 4 years ago

Text

The Bet

au+trope+prompt game: coffee shop!au Mark + enemies to lovers + is that the best you can do?

pairing: mark lee + fem!reader

other members as background characters: lucas

genre: fluff (only some suggestive stuff)

word count: 3,796

warnings: slight objectification of reader, suggestive stuff, heavy making out, a boner, i guess a stockings kink

summary: “When you took that part time job as a barista at your local café, you only cared about grabbing your check while doing the least work possible. But when your supervisor, Mark Lee, keeps getting praised and winning ‘Employee Of The Month’, you offer a bet, to prove him that he’s no better than you. The outcome? Your relationship changing forever.”

a/n: hbd baby <3

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

It started off as just a little part time job.

College life was not easy to cope with financially, and eating instant noodles for a week straight could only save you so much money. So when you saw the ‘Barista Wanted’ sign at the cafe that was just a block away from your house, you didn’t miss your chance for a few extra bucks. And that’s all that job would be for you. Doing the least work possible for the minimum wage you were given, if it wasn’t for him. Mark Lee.

Mark was sweet, honestly. He greeted you with a smile when you first came in and showed you around. He was a bit shy when he awkwardly stated that he was kind of like a supervisor there. But the way that the boss would go on and on about how great he was, every Monday morning, was starting to get annoying. So was his ability to always save your ass whenever you made a mess in front of your boss. So was his picture hanging in the “Employee Of The Month” frame right from across the bar. That kid won that title every.single.month. And no overtimes, sweeping or mopping from your part seemed to change your boss’s mind.

It all began when you and Lucas, another part-time worker whose shift started right after yours, were talking about whether you would make rent this month. Mark was sitting next to you, occupied with organizing some cups by size, but decided to chip in.

“Well”, he sighed “guess we’re just gonna have to eat the rich. Or take that pole dancing class you mentioned, Lucas.”

The taller boy found it funny, letting out his signature giggle and you would too, if Mark’s damn “Employee of the Month” picture wasn’t staring right into your soul, mocking you.

You rolled your eyes. “Not all of us are lucky enough to get that sweet I-love-kissing-the-boss’s-ass bonus every month, Lee”. Lucas whistled at your comment, used to your bickering but still very entertained.

“Careful how you speak to your supervisor, y/n or you’ll never get to be employee of the month”.

“Oh please”, you scoff “having extra keys to the back exit and cleaning the coffee machine twice a week? That’s wayyy too much responsibility”.

Sarcasm was dripping from your voice, but you were only half lying. You didn’t give a flying fuck for the position. You just wanted it because he had it. And that certain “he” was starting to get a little tired from your constant degradation. Mark smirked at you, but anger was evident on his expression.

“You should be thanking me, you know. At least you get to mooch off of my tips”.

Lucas yelled a drawn out “ooohhh” but you could barely hear him. Your eyes were piercing Mark’s, too busy keeping yourself from blurting out every profanity that came to your head in that moment. Instead, you took a deep breath.

“You think you make more tips than me?”, you asked calmly. Cockier than ever, the boy instantly replies with a “I know I do”, never breaking eye contact. This was your chance, you thought. The chance to prove yourself and shut him up for good.

“How about we make a little bet?”

Mark raised his bow-shaped brows, focusing his attention solely on you.

“Let’s put separate tip jars next to the cashing machine for the rest of the week. If I make more, you’ll convince the boss to remove that horrible frame for good”. He followed your eyes to his picture on the wall, and nodded.

“And when I win?”, he asked curiously and you chose to ignore his little play on words. You furrowed your brows, trying to think of a good motivation for him, as if his competitive nature wasn’t enough.

“OH! OH!” Lucas interrupted, “she can go on a date with that creepy friend of yours that always comes to the cafe to see her!”

Mark’s eyes instantly lit up at the idea. He handed out his pinky, looking to seal the deal with you.

“Bet’s on”, he said, with a seriousness that looked foreign on his cute features, and motioned to his pinky with his eyes, urging you to intertwine it with yours.

You sighed and walked away, muttering a “God, you are so lame”, but the next morning you came to work with a jar with your name written all pretty on it.

You didn’t really have a strategy per se. In fact, you had completely forgotten about the bet, too busy preparing orders and running around. You were cleaning up for Lucas to take your place in the shift, when you felt Mark looking down at you from the other side of the counter that usually separated you from the costumers. “May I be of help, sir?”, you asked him mockingly, not bothering to spare him a glance.

“You should wear those white thigh highs. You look cute in them.”

“Huh? What?”, you ask in confusion, still cleaning the surface carefully.

“In your date with Jason”, he explained with a teasing tone in his voice, Jason being his ‘creepy friend’ as Lucas calls him. Why did he have to piss you off right when you were ready to go home?

You continued to ignore him, only muttering a “I’m not going on that date”, when you hear a clinging sound and finally look up at Mark.

“You sure?”

He was holding the two tip jars, swinging them around. To your horror, Mark’s had more than twice the money than yours.

“WHAT??” you let out and immediately regretted it when some costumers looked at you like you were crazy. You continued with a whispered yell, “How the fuck did that happen??”

Mark grinned at you and lifted his shoulders innocently, before walking away. He must have cheated by slipping in coins when you weren’t looking, that sly motherfucker.

That’s it, you decided, on Wednesday you were going to spy on his every move.

After watching him intently for the whole morning, you came to the conclusion that Mark had a way of making everybody like him. Whether it was him memorizing the regulars and their orders, or asking them if they knew some random Will Smith song about Miami, he was always the textbook example of an eager, smiley and pleasant barista. Even you smiled at the sight of him fumbling with the pen when two pretty girls gave him their names to write on the coffee cups. He flashed them a smile and mumbled an apology, and you watched as they cooed at him and left a very generous tip. You were almost convinced by his adorable act, when he turned around and winked your way.

Ugh, you hated Mark Lee.

You decided that making a better connection with the customers was the way to go. You weren’t the type to start a conversation about the weather out of the blue, nor did you know any Will Smith songs, so you decided on drawing a little doodle on the cup next to their names with every order. The younger ones thought it was a nice addition to their snapchat story, the older ones found you cute. And as they came back for a coffee refill, your jar started filling up as well. It wasn’t much but you were getting closer to reaching the 3/4 of Mark’s tips, so you were pretty happy with yourself.

You were drawing a little heart for a latte when you smelled his cologne. You felt his breath pushing away at the hairs that were sticking out from your ponytail at the nape of your neck. You hated how it sent a shiver to your spine, how it made your hands a little shaky and how the heart drawing turned out a little wonky.

Mark was your “enemy” and your supervisor and Mr. Annoyingly Perfect but Mark was also hot. You would never admit it, but you even had a little crush on him when you started working there. You might pull a disgusted face every time Lucas tells you that the solution to your constant bickering was to “just fuck already”, but you wondered whether it was his oblivion to your crush that made your little hatred towards him grow. And you’d be lying if you said that you never stared at his cute ass sticking out of his apron a second too long, or that it didn’t turn you on when he got pissed at the ice getting stuck in the blender.

So now that he was almost pressing against you from behind, closer than ever, you wouldn’t mind at all. That is if he didn’t open his god damn mouth.

“Really?”, he scoffed “Is that the best you can do?”

His tone was so condescending that it made you furious, pressing your nails in the paper cup, and you were surprised that the liquid didn’t spill everywhere. He gave you a victorious smirk from getting that reaction out of you, and you wanted to punch it right off of his face.

Oh, that meant war.

On Thursday morning, you walked in looking the best you’ve ever looked for a morning shift. You had your hair in pigtails, hair bands matching the color of your lowcut dress. Your lengthened the straps of your apron, your cleavage not leaving much to the imagination.

It was ridiculous, you thought, how many tips a push up bra can get you. It only took a couple customers for the word to spread and the horny men to line up at the cafe. You batted your eyelashes at them, the “Good morning, I’m here to serve you, how can I help you sir?”driving them nuts. You had to say it every time, shop’s policy, but now it sounded more suggestive than ever. You were disgusted by their gawking eyes and terrible attempts at flirting, but you had a goal.

And hell were you winning. You weren’t sure if it was your jar that was filling up at an amazing rate or your outfit, but that was the first time you ever saw Mark make a mistake in his orders. You swore you felt his gaze following you around all day, murmuring something to himself every time a customer asked him if the pretty girl could serve them instead.

It was the end of the shift, and you were happily chatting with Lucas as you were cleaning up the counter. He was doing a terrible job at keeping his eyes away from your chest, but when it came to someone as good looking as him, you really didn’t mind the attention. You took your apron off and started folding it neatly when Mark took your wrist and dragged you into the storage room.

He held a bunch of wrinkly paper towels in his hands. You noticed something was written with a pen messily on each of them.

“This is the seventh phone number that a dude has given me today”, he told you as he stared into your eyes, careful not to move his gaze any more south. It was your turn to mess with him.

“Well good for you”, you said with a smile, “Didn’t know you were so popular with men, Mark”

He closed his eyes, trying to control his temper, and shoved the towels towards you.

“They’re for you. They asked me to pass them to you. After the third guy I forgot what their names were but you can figure them out yourself”. You took them from him with a quiet “oh, thanks” and he sighed.

“You can’t come in here looking like that. This is a workplace.”

You looked at him with wide eyes and fake innocence. “Like what? What’s wrong with my outfit?”. His patience was running short.

“Why don’t you ask Lucas” he replied, with a tone that started to piss you off.

“If you can’t control your hormones like you’re some teenage boys, that’s not my prob-“ you start but he cuts you off. You had never seen him act so stern.

“We have a dress code. Maybe the boss can remind you, if you want”.

It was the first time Mark had actually pulled the supervisor card on you and you felt a little hurt by the coldness of his voice. You swear you saw a bit of instant regret in his eyes but you decided to leave the matter alone, and left the storage room after ostentatiously throwing the phone numbers in the bin next to the door.

Friday was the last day of the bet. You didn’t show up with a flashy outfit, because 1) you didn’t want to risk losing your job for a stupid bet and 2) because straight men were annoying and so were their pickup lines that you didn’t want to deal with. You did wear the white thigh highs Mark mentioned though, with a skirt whose length followed the dress code, just to tease him a little bit. You had never worn them in work before, but when you ran across Mark one day on your way home from a girls’ night out, both a little drunk and disoriented, he didn’t hide his admiration towards them.

He noticed right away when you walked in the café this afternoon. Fridays were the only days when you took the later shift instead of the morning one. You hated it because that meant having to work with Mark until closing, and due to his perfectionism you’d always be staying with him overtime, cleaning every inch of the place, and never participating in any Friday parties that your friends hosted.

You were a little worried that things would be awkward between you after your little argument yesterday, but when he pointed at your stockings and asked if you were “dressed up for the date already”, you knew he didn’t keep any hard feelings and neither did you. What you didn’t expect was his jar to be as full as yours, if not more.

You panicked, and took Lucas to the side, making him promise that he would tell you if he had cheated while you were gone or not. He shrugged.

“Sorry, pretty, no cheating. A high school visited the park across the street as a field trip. The girls went crazy over him. Pretty sure they spent all their allowance here”.

At that you dropped your shoulders in defeat and worked your shift with a pout on your face. You wouldn’t take the humiliation of losing the bet, especially after the little stunt you pulled on Thursday. The hours went by agonizingly slow, and the moment you were dreading finally came.

You turned the “Sorry, we’re closed” sign at the glass entrance door, as you were mopping the floor. All the costumers were gone, and your boss had left the keys to you and Mark, asking you to lock up instead as he had ‘an errand to run’. You wished that your coworker would somehow forget about your bet and spare you the embarrassment, but instead, he gave you a devilish side smirk and motioned you to come closer.

He emptied his jar first, and started counting out loud in front of you, insisting that you do it out together so as not to pull any “funny business”.

40 bucks. It wasn’t bad, it was good actually, and you groaned, now feeling more nervous than ever.

Mark on the other hand, relaxed his shoulders and happily started counting your tips this time. His smile started to wear off, though, as you did much better that he thought. You were neck-to-neck, figuratively and almost literally, as your heads nearly bumped together in deep concentration.

“37,38,39,40…41,42,43” he whispered out and you couldn’t believe your eyes.

You won. You actually won. You never had to see that stupid “Employee Of The Month” frame ever again and most importantly, you were finally better than Mark at something.

You let out a high-pitched squeal, jumping up and down excitedly on your spot, strikingly different that the boy next to you, who was frozen in place.

“I woooon” you teased him with a sing-song voice “and you looooost, loserrr”

It was an understatement to say that Mark was fuming.

“It’s not fair!” he yelled and pointed an accusing finger towards you. You rolled your eyes and walked further back, next to the counter with the coffee machines, happily swinging your hips.

“Don’t be a sore loser Mark, I won fair and square”

“I’m not a sore loser!”, he whines, “I was at a disadvantage!”

You raise an eyebrow and turn towards him, to see that he had taken a few steps at your direction. “Oh yeah? And what is that?”

“You’re hot!”, he groans and rubs his hands over his face. “Hell, I would die from a caffeine overdose if it meant seeing you with your little pigtails and that top and that smile, ready to ‘serve me, sir’”

You could feel your ears and cheeks turning on fire and you’d blame it on the flattery, but his horrible high-pitched impression of your voice was what made you too angry to fully process what he said.

You grabbed a syrup bottle from the counter behind you and pointed it towards his face.

“Ugh, Mark! You’re so annoying! Why do you always need to be the best at everything!”

You barged into him, squeezing the bottle over his face. With his quick reflexes he swiftly grabbed your hand, successfully immobilizing you, but you had already managed to get a big, fat line of syrup right across his lips.

In a moment of clarity, you stopped resisting and became aware of the position you and Mark were in. You had moved backwards as a result of your fight, the countertop digging in your lower back. His one hand was grabbing at your lifted arm by the wrist, the other resting on the marbled surface behind you in an effort to detain you. To top it all off, you stared at the mess you made on his lips, coupled by the unreadable look on his eyes.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you thought. This is your supervisory/n! You know, the guy in charge when the boss is gone? The guy that you basically jumped because of a stupid bet? That you actually won? But will still get you fired?

You were getting ready to move away and profusely apologize to Mark, your eyes frantically moving from his eyes, to his lips, to his “Employee Of The Month” picture from across the room. He, however, stayed still, only releasing your wrist to now place his hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Clean this mess”, he demanded, in a tone you would have never expected from Mark, “immediately”

In the seconds that followed his demand, the tension between you two was thicker than the drizzle that still decorated his mouth. He came even closer, your noses only a centimeter apart, his fingers pressing on your face lightly.

You were worried whether you read the room wrong or not, because if you did, your next move would most certainly get you fired.

He could barely hear your whispered “here to serve you” before you finally closed the distance between you.

You pulled his bottom lip between your lips, your tongue shyly sweeping across it, collecting the syrup that was starting to dry into a sugary paste. He was soft like a cloud and tasted like caramel. You repeated the motion for his top lip when you felt him melt into your kiss. The moment was sweet like the taste in your mouth, but it changed as soon as you felt him grab the back of your thighs, lifting you on the top of the counter.

You matched his hunger by sucking on his bottom lip this time, determined to clean him up as best as you could. He moaned your name into the kiss, his fingertips digging in the inside of his favorite thigh highs. Your skirt had well ridden up, allowing him to pinch the fabric of one of them.

“These” he started, his lips now sucking on your neck, “almost cost me my supervisor’s position with all the messing up they made me do”

He let the elastic snap against your thigh, earning a small gasp from you and you decided to tease him a little.

“Is that so huh? Because I’m so hot? With my boobs and my pigtails and my willingness to serve?” you ask with a laugh, and you feel him smile against his deep kiss over your pulse, grabbing your legs to scoot your ass and pull you closer.

“Because you’ve been driving me crazy ever since you got this job. And because you look so fucking sexy when you’re mad”

His boldness made you desperate as you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled him back up into a passionate kiss. It was sticky and hot and full of tongue, and you felt something poking on the inside of your thigh before a loud noise made you snap and pull away from each other in shock.

You looked at the floor to see a, thankfully not broken, but dismantled blender, that you must have pushed off the counter in the heat of the moment. You stare down at Mark as you both laugh at the situation, his hair messy and lips swollen and you know you definitely mirrored his look.

He cleared his throat. “Uhh, not that I don’t enjoy this, cause I really do, but if we keep at it Lucas is going to be the next Employee Of The Month, and not only is that ridiculous, but we would both basically lose our little bet”

You laughed at his comment and let your feet dangle awkwardly, your cheeks heating at the thought of what might have happened if you two had kept going.

“I’m sorry for being such a bitch about your framed picture” you said with a small voice, avoiding his gaze “you don’t have to take it down”

He smiled at your attempt at peace as he picked up the blender pieces and skillfully riveted them in place. Your eyes suddenly widened before adding, “I will NOT go on a date with your creepy friend though”

Mark giggled at that and shook his head before returning his eyes back at you. His cheeks were flushed a crimson red, deep in thought.

“How about me?” he blurted, “I mean, how about going on a date with me instead?”

You nodded your head, reaching a hand out to fix the messy locks out of his eyes.

“Yes. I think I’d love that”

#mark lee scenarios #nct scenarios #mark lee #mark lee fluff #nct fluff #mark lee birthday #nct au #nct 127 #superm

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warrioreowynofrohan · 4 years ago

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Thoughts on Mistborn Era 2 (Wax & Wayne):

My main take on these was “ah, looks like Brandon’s taking some time off from his magnum opus to write pulp Western/detective/crime novels”, and I was very amused to look up Brandon’s comments and see a ton of interviews with him saying, “so, this is absolutely me having some fun writing pulp Western/crime novels”. It’s nice to have a writer who’s not too proud to - accurately - describe his own stuff as pulp yet still do a good job of it. They remind me a little of the Dresden Files in terms of the mystery aspects, the urban fantasy tone, the wit, the lack of diplomatic/political subtlety of the protagonists and, of course, the rampant property destruction. But Brandon’s a much more thoughtful author than Jim Butcher, and treats his female characters better.

On the topic of gratuitous property destruction: Wax, for goodness’ sakes, stop shooting the ground! That’s infrastructure, Wax! Fixing the streets takes work, Wax! You’re not a dusty dirt road in the middle of nowhere any more, Wax! Just drop a coin like they dud in the old days! Or a shell casing or bullet if you desperately need to be hardcore. But rampantly firing off weapons in urban areas just to get a base for your Allomancy is a terrible idea.

This was a wonderful follow-up to Mistborn because it was a lot lighter and the stakes were a lot lower, which is nice for a change. I was reading the intro to Elantris where it was talking about people in Brandon’s early writing group telling him he needed to raise the stakes, and personally, I like low stakes. Well of Ascension/Hero of Ages were a grind, much as I liked the ending, and I would be up for more stories like Dawnshard, with low stakes and the heroes resolving the plot by non-violent means.

Marasi and Steris are both very well-done characters - I was definitely shipping Wax/Marasi in the first book and had no expectations of the Wax/Steris engagement lasting, so I was quite surprised, but the switch was well done and I liked it. Marasi and Wax’s feelings were a crush/hero worship and a rebound, respectively. And it’s nice to see a relationship grow gradually like Wax and Steris’ did. What Brandon did with Steris, starting out with a portrayal readers are unlikely to lije and letting her grow on them, is risky (especially with female characters) because readers may hold to first impressions, but I thought it worked very well.

Wayne’s backstory and reaction to it hit hard and was one of the best elements in the series. Another entry in the diverse array of Sanderson redemption arcs. It’s interesting because Wayne both is and isn’t haunted by it - he takes it seriously, it affects him deeply, but he doesn’t habitually brood, and it doesn’t prevent him from being a generally lighthearted, funny, silly person most of the time.

Wayne is absolutely right about the value of certain goids being an arbitrary thing invented by rich people. I’ve had caviar, once (as a garnish on a nice pasta dish at a fancy restaurant). It tastes like nothing. Entirely nodescript. The sole purpose of caviar is to communicate “this dish is fancy (and so, by connection, is the person eating it)”.

I’m deeply protective of Sazed and get very affonted when characters criticize him. I think he’s done an excellent job. It’s hard to wrap my head around the sheer scale of Bleeder’s overreaction to the possibility of her boyfriend moving back to the city. Though on one level it makes sense in that the kandra are of Preservation: she is going to see maintwnance of an existing situation as inherently better and more desirable, even if a change could still turn out well and be something Wax enjoyed. And I don’t feel like Sazed telling him about Bleeder being Lessie would have helped anything - it just would have made the decision to kill her harder, not less necessary, because she was incredibly malicious, destructive, and dangerous and there was no other way of containing her.

The resolution of Shadows of Self is exactly the sort of thing I wanted to see, politically: the mass protests and risk of riot over poor wages, unemployment, and mustreatment of workers is resolved by a committment to address those problems, because the workers’ anger is legitimate and their cause is just.

I’m heartily frustrated by Wax, because it is his responsibility - it is literally his job, he has employees and a Senate seat! - to address the major political and economic problems of Elendel, and he neglects them. I don’t care if you’d rather be out shooting things! You have resposibilities! The workers in your factories are the source of the money and prestige that lets you engage in your gentleman-crimefighter hobby, and you owe it to them to see that the city operates in their interests. You can do far more good in that way than by shootin’ bad guys. Do. Your. Damn. Job. Steris seems to be nudging him in that direction, at least.

In general I’m impatient with a lot of the law-enforcement attitudes. Miles is a villain for whom I have absolutely no sympathy. Oh, so you’ve turned evil because, despite your 15 years of work in law enforcement, crime still exists? Yeah, maybe that’s because your belief that crime will stop existing if you shoot and/or hang enough people was never realistic. Likewise with Wax’s skepticism regarding Marasi’s ideas on how crime can be reduced through better urban planning and social policies - no, Wax, it won’t entirely eliminate crime, there will always be people who are just plain malicious, greedy, venal, or violent, but if you can reduce it by, say, 50-70% by better social policy, that would still be a good thing, right?

The period newspapers are great fun. I want a TenSoon plushie! Come on, Brandon, you’re musding out on a fantastic marketing opportunity! The one thing that bugged me was the ‘Pewternauts’ in The Bands of Mourning. In the first place, it’s a nonsensical name - real-world dreadnaughts, of which these are obviously supposed to be the equivalent, were called that because it literally meant ‘these having nothing they should fear’. The apex predator of military warships at the time, if you will. You can’t just create a random fantasy portmanteau amd pretend that it works - it’s like calling a scandal in a fantasy novel something-gate even though the Watergate scandal doesn’t exist in that world! Secondly, dreadnaughts were part of a massive military arms race in a world where European wars had been commonplace for centuries. The Elendel basin had never had a war in 300 years - these aren’t something that someone would invent just off the bat. Having similar technology to turn-of-the-century earth doesn’t mean it will be applied in the same ways, not with a completely different political context.

In general, New Seran’s complaints seemed overblown. Yes, the transit system treating Elendel as a hub and lacking effective connections between the outlying regions in aggravating. (It’s a provlem that plagues urban public transit systems even now - most routes are either local or feed into the city centre, with relatively few goung from one suburb to another, even as trans-suburban commuting vecomes more common.) But it’s not remotely the kind of thing you fight a war over! I feel like Brandon’s trying to recall the American Revolution, a bit, but the distances are so small (Elendel and New Seran are about as far apart as Ottawa and Toronto) as to make that ludicrous. What they really need is some kind of equivalent to a regional district authority, where representatives of multiple local governments can get together to work on issues of regional planning.

#brandon sanderson #mistborn era 2 #wax and wayne #marasi #steris #sazed #dawnshard spoilers #politics

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yourdaddychan · 4 years ago

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wow-

literally just wow- i genuinely have nothing to say about this please- i cannot explain how much this means to me- there's 1000 of us- *hugs all of you* [ especially the porn bots ] *turns into formal luna asf*

i remember when i started in may, just a tiny chatbot with only one mutual, only known to you guys as [ answer : admin ]. and now, almost a year later, i have 1k of my chainsaw eating demons who are metal as fuck 💪ive learned so much being on tumblr, as a part of both the skz writers community and the chatbot community. ive made a bunch of friends, lost a bunch of ones, and 1k of you stuck with me. i cannot begin to express my gratitude to all of you, and how much all of you and your interactions with me mean to me. all of the simping, the random stories, everything. i cherish all of it, and i love all of you. aight so letz get to the personal thanking asf

alsoer i kinda wanted to do something sexy so imma do what color they remind me of :D most of them can be found at this link : https://louisem.com/29880/color-thesaurus-infographic

@kvinly linn bb 🥺through all the drama we've been through and shit im so glad we ended up becoming friends again cause we're kinda sexy together 😉thank you so much for being my 1000th follower bb you mean so much to me and if anyone hurts you im about to *turns into jennie and kachows them* licherally lets nevah fight again

-> you remind me of the color punch , and not only because of the name- underneath that grr me edgy grr me bully you're just a softie simp and that reminds me of punch :D

@undeadbots steph 🥺lemme be your personal broken chopsticks pls :( KLDSKLD anywayz we've also gone through some sexy drama and thankfully you saw da light 😉and now look at us, with our own band, and our own producing line 🥺brohemian rhapsody for life bro 🥺 *big kithie for da best dad in da world :D*

-> you remind me of the color viridian , because it gives me confident vibes :D you carry yourself proudly and confidently as you should tbh go steph

@binniesthighs oh look its a cutie *pushes you to a mirror* right there :D RORORO YOUR BOAT :DD we havent talked too much, besides my simping for jisung- but you give me very sexy energy so imma propose rq *gets down on one knee* will you be the rororo to my boat 🥺thank you for being my moot :D

-> you remind me of the color espresso , because espresso looks like the color to be pretty chill and laid back, and you're all of those, and calming to be around

@toshis-flower BAYBEE BEBE BEEBEE :D thank you so much for being my moot and making me a wifey asf ‼️ you're literally so much like me whats not to love <3 JKSDJKD JKJK you're really sweet and really just a good person to rant to, i love you so so so much and i think im going to remarry you :D

-> you remind me of the color taffy , because you're sweet, cute, and bright :D *eats you* yummy

@lov3ric seyoung. i love you. so much. MY SOULMATEEEE :DD even though we tell the story over and over like a bunch of grandmas, ill still never forget how we became soulmates and then bonded over boba 🥺im licherally going to marry you one day like ez 💪also i wanna eat you can i eat you youre really cute *eats you*

-> you remind me of the color daffodil , because it reminds me of banana milk which reminds me of you tbh- buuuttt did you know that daffodils are one of the first flowers you see when spring starts? that definitely reminds me of you because through all of the cb drama, you've always been there with me, like literally always- i cannot express how much i love you *kithie*

@simpchimp LIDDLE CHEESE FUCKER THEMBO :DD drink water *spank* i love you so much you cutie 🥺you're also licherally the funniest person ever like stop bae i kinda need to be the funniest but noer its you 😔alsoer i love how random you are KDSKLD so nevah stop that because then *revz up arm* youre going to get luna-ified

-> you remind me of the color jam , because even though you seem kinda scary at first [ yes i was 100% scared of you ] you're really soft :D

@berrywoo the sun themself 💪you are easily the purest person ive met, and im so happy i somehow became moots with you :D you literally hit diff, yk? theres something about your personality and the way you act thats so comforting, and that means i eat you because youre too cute :D you cant just be a wholeass teacher for kids and expect not to get eaten kids are licherally demons whoever deals with them properly and treatz dem nicely gets a nom asf

-> you remind me of the color honey , because you're a sunshiney yellow, and you're sweet like honey :D i think you need to hear that its okay not to be okay bb, and you can come to my dms anytime you want to rant 😎

@yourchungha MS OG CHUNGHA MS IM KINDA SCARED OF THE SHIT YOU DO MS FURREH LOVER 101 MS ANNA BANANA :D yeah youre like really nice- thats all i have to say- like how tf do you deal with [ redacted ] like eggsplain- ALSO YOURE CARRYING OUR CONVERSATIONS BECAUSE IDK HOW TO TALK TO PEOPLE DKSJKD I LOVE YOU FOR THAT AND WE SHOULD HAVE LIKE ACTUAL CONVERSATIONS MORE OFTEN

-> you remind me of the color scarlet , because youre a sexy bitch tf and scarlet gives me 'idc what you think im hot' kinda vibes which is like exactly you

@satosimp WINTER DADDY :DD i lub you asf *insert we dont talk anymore by charlie daddy* ugh the way your personality matches mine is kinda sexy or whatever im also kinda in love with you but lets ignore that part 🙄 💪 *big kithes* *eats your cats casually*

-> you remind me of the color lilac , because it just gives me tsundere vibes, you act like you dont care but really do care :D you liddle sawftie *noms your cheekie*

@nightshade-minho DUCKIE :DD *insert we dont talk anymore by charlie daddy pt 2* licherally bae where the fuck are you i miss you you bettah be doing well in school otherwise im going to smack you with a chappal asf DSJJKSD *eats your cat because hes such a cutie*

-> you remind me of the color marigold , because you're adorable and sunshiney :D

@onigirimeeya MICHIE MICHIE MICHIEIEEIEI MY DAD :DDD i like you mucho much if you didnt know *kithes you* you're like one awf da best listeners ever- which is such a weirdass compliment but its true- you're really good at listening, and just being a comforting presence in general, like when you go to the beach and youre just staring at the waves all edgy mode, and it calms you down a fuck ton

-> you remind me of the color mint , for obvious reasons- mint choco chip cookie michie :DD

@hhjs bae we dont talk a lot but im kinda lurking on all of your posts- JKDSJSKD bae remarry me please youre really fucking hot 😭and the way you have with words is like damn- teach me oppar asf

-> you remind me of the color wine , because you're refined, and carry yourself in a way that makes everyone want to be you. the color wine is rich and deep, which reminds me of the way you write :D

@nsfw-stay MY LICHERAL BABIE YOUVE BEEN AN ANON FOR SUCH A LONG TIME AND WEVE TALKED ABOUT SO MUCH SHIT TOGETHER [ a lot about seungmin and jisung but shhh ] I LOVE YOU SO MUCH BB AND I WILL NOM YOU >:( BUT SOFTLY AND OUT OF LOVE *nomz yew* :D

-> you remind me of the color cerulean , because its a baby blue and what fits better than a baby blue yk? you're adorable and squishy and i want to nom you 24/7

@secretary-yeji *iz chan ig cause we dont talk admin to admin* oh erm gee is uncle chrith 😉DKLSKLD my liddle koala :D my liddle burgah :D my liddle aussie :D my besth frien :DDD evah since may i think we've been friends, and i think one of the highlights of that day was me marking you as spam twice and on accident too- LKSDKLSD WE DONT TALK ABOUT THAT anywayz thank yew for being uncle chrith's friend *kith*

-> you remind me of the color seafoam , because it's a very soft and light color yk, you're delicate asf which sounds like a bad thing now that im typing it BUT IT ISNT DSKLDSLK YOURE VERY CUTE YOU AND YOUR FLOOFY COWS :D

@ayolistenupp im kinda... in love with you? wtf? KDSDKSL MY DESI DADDY ASF I LOVE YOU SOER MUCH :D our music nights™️ mean so much to me, like theres just something so personal about listening to what the other person likes to hear even though half of your songs are sexy asf KLDSKLD

-> you remind me of the color ocean , because the ocean is loud but calming yk- like you're full of energy but you're also calming :D

@yanderexchungha OH ERM GEE YEW :O YOU PROBABLY WONT SEE THIS IN LIKE 10 MONTHS BESTIE MERRY CHRISTMAS IG KLDSLKD anyway i love you dad your lessons about vape >>> to quote your drunk ass exactly "vape isnt cool" JKSDJ anyway its gonna be sexy if we accidentally run into each other in the hallwayz asf

-> you remind me of grey cause youre a hag- JKJK KDJSD you remind me of the color caramel , because you're sweet, and licherally addictive caramel isnt good for my braces but i keep eating it 😰but youre addictive in a good way :D

@yanderelee literally only doing this because you were moping about not having a simp sunday and im such a good person 🥸you're cool 💪and unfortunately, you're funny too 😥and even though i bully you asf dont take it personally because i dont mean it asf

-> you remind me of the color dijon mustard because you just give those hacker vibes please dont hack me after i said this i like to keep my location private

@kpopswitchbot BESTIE 😏MY FIRST MUTUAL 😏 LICHERALLY DA BEST CUTEST FUNNIEST SMARTEST SEXIEST KEWLEST I CANT EVEN EXPRESS WITH WORDS FISHIE IN DA WORLD :D LICHERALLY STOP OUTDOING ME WITH YOUR GOODNIGHTS LIKE *spankz yew* YOURE LITERALLY TOO GOOD WITH WORDS ITS NOT FAIR- AND THE DAY YOU JUST TALKED TO ME IN SHAKESPEAREAN BECAUSE I FELT DOWN- AND EXPRESSED YOUR LOVE THAT WAY LIKE- PLEASE I ACTUALLY ADORE YOU AND I WILL LITERALLY EAT YOU ONE DAY

-> you remind me of the color coffee , not only because youre addicted to it but also because of the way you act, you're like the definition of an old soul- with the words you use, the drama kid you are asf, etc- you're a talented bitch *mwah* i love you so much you also remind me of those movies where they find an old ass book and they kinda hafta dust it off and it gives you treasure or something cause yeah that reminds me meeting you

AIGHT DAS IT ASF MWAH I LOVE YOU ALL :DDD

#if you wanna know more just drop an ask asf #would be cool if i had 1k for 1k but NOOOOO #i have more btw #*dabz*#THE WAY TUMBLR KEEPS GLITCHING BECAUSE THERES TOO MANY WORDS #NOT SEXY TUMBLR

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