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everythingsinred · 2 years ago

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Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Mikan (pt. 18)

Hey! I have a good reason for not posting on Sunday the way I planned. Partly. I was gonna, but then I remembered that I'd forgotten some of my notes at work and I thought to myself "Okay, I guess I can't do the post!" Seriously, I love doing these, but the actual posts are really annoying sometimes. Finding the pictures, trying to be funny in the captions... doing the fucking next and previous buttons. I hate doing those. Anyway!

I'm sure at this point we're more than ready to wrap up this arc, so let's do it, shall we? Mikan has just been hit with Persona's alice and it's not something one easily walks away from. Oh dear!

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Chapter Sixty-Eight

We rejoin Mikan at a pretty tense time. Her skin is newly covered in dark stains--the mark of death. She is in terrible pain. She is facing the news that she will die very soon. She’s already touched Persona, which means his alice has already done its job. As far as they all know, Mikan will die today.

Her friends are shocked, and so is she. These characters here are all children. Whether it’s finding out a friend is marked to die--or that you are--it’s not easy news to take. But they don’t even have the chance to fully process it because they’re still in an actively dangerous situation. Other than this news, there’s no real change here. Persona still wants to lock Natsume up, to destroy everyone’s happiness.

Even Yakumo protests against what happened, but Persona insists that it’s an accident, and that the school will agree, which riles Natsume up quite a bit. And before you start getting comfortable in the idea that Himemiya is one of the good guys, she reminds us that she is capricious and man-hating. She is so disgusted by Natsume’s behavior that she tightens the barrier on him. As a result, he doubles over in pain, giving Persona the chance to regain the upper hand through Nobara’s alice stone.

It’s important that Mikan sees this happen. Though she doesn’t know Himemiya is observing and pulling strings, she can see that Natsume is unwell, that he still hasn’t recovered from using his alice before. Mikan may not ever admit out loud or to herself that she knows deep down why Natsume is always ill, but she still knows. He is ill, and using so much of his alice, especially in a hostile area complete with a barrier, is not good for him. He’s fighting a losing battle. He can do all he can, but he’s not used to this environment, he’s already sick, and his alice is canceled out with Nobara’s alice stone anyway. He will lose.

Hotaru bravely tries to hit Persona, but she’s very weak while Persona is very strong. Ruka cries out her name (the real ones know why I mention that) and Mikan is able to stop Persona from attacking a loved one once more. Mikan is horrified that Persona would try to attack one of her friends again. She is always so stumped by the existence of the villains she encounters. She cannot understand why someone would do any of that, why someone would hurt somebody else.

(I think it’s very interesting that Mikan once saw Natsume in the same capacity, as a villain who hurt her friends, who she could not understand, who she saw as entirely bad. But because she saw him in an initially dark light and then gradually came to understand him and see the good in him, he might be one of the few people she sees as layered and complex as opposed to being entirely good or bad. But it is mostly evil that she views as unnuanced, because malice is one of the only things that she cannot empathize with. She cannot understand why somebody would want to hurt somebody else, which is why Persona is so repellent to her here. I'll always love comparing the villains as they progress arc to arc--what sets them apart, how they get progressively worse, etc.)

It's really sad to me that this is one of the prettiest arcs in terms of art style and yet the scans just... burnt it all up. I'm crying.

The stains have spread across her skin and the pain has intensified. It’s important to note that her skin isn’t just discolored. While all this is happening, Mikan is in terrible pain. She is in the process of dying. For a moment, she’s scared that the stains might be contagious, so she warns her friends not to get close. Mikan is already terrified that she will die, but she is prepared to die alone, because she doesn’t want to drag her friends into the same fate. Persona informs her that the stains are not contagious and can’t spread, but Mikan is still scared. She’s still dying, and agonizingly so.

“I don’t want to die,” she thinks to herself. “I’m scared.” None of those thoughts are surprising; anybody would react that way upon finding out their life is running out. Mikan, who couldn’t comprehend why Natsume would be willing to take his own life during the Reo Arc, values life more than any other character. Her own life is no exception.

But that’s not what she says out loud.

Instead, she admonishes Persona for trying to use such a despicable alice on her friends. She can feel the pain after all. She feels how awful it is. The only thing worse than dying is knowing that her friends could have been in her position instead. She is not angry that he used his alice on her; she’s angry that he tried using it on them. She makes her bold proclamations about never forgiving him and refusing to let him have his way but he seems largely unmoved. She’s already at death’s door. Hasn’t she had enough?

Actually, y'know what, I was right (I'm saying this to myself--you're not missing something). Aoi wasn't around to witness Nobara, so we know these aren't her thoughts, even though it's tempting to imagine it that way because she's standing there. This is Mikan, thinking about the people who have looked out for Natsume... a precious person... Where's that one tumblr that made that annoying post about Mikan being with Natsume, not out of genuine love and affection, but out of pity? I just wanna talk. And give you canon evidence that you're sorely mistaken.

Yes, Mikan is already at death’s door, which is why she’ll keep fighting. She’s already doomed anyway.

(Natsume has the same mentality.)

She is going to die anyway, so tells her friends to get out, to run away. They can escape while she holds Persona off with her alice. She’s a lost cause, so she might as well take advantage of it to protect the people she loves while she can. Mikan is scared, but what she says out loud is that she doesn’t care about her own well-being anymore. She doesn’t voice how she’s feeling because it’s not helpful. It would only worry her friends even more, when the situation isn’t anything they can help. If this would have proceeded the way Mikan imagines here, then she would die, by herself, scared and alone and in agony in the basement.

Her friends protest, but she is resigned to her fate, as much as it scares her. In Natsume’s corresponding essays, I made a lot of references to Mikan encroaching on Natsume’s habits, particularly to sacrifice himself at the drop of a hat.

Yes, they are similar in some ways. Both Natsume and Mikan think pretty little of themselves. Natsume hates his alice; Mikan views hers as lackluster and unimpressive. Both of their alices are really only any good in situations like this--life or death: his to attack, hers to protect. Thus, they are both best suited to this sort of alice-use. They both prioritize others’ happiness over their own. Thus, Mikan’s behavior here seems to echo Natsume’s behavior all the time. But I think there’s some key differences as well.

Most of all, Natsume is suicidal. He’s always ready to sacrifice his life for a number of reasons, which I best summarized during the Reo Arc in Chapter Sixteen. Yes, he’s a trained soldier, so he is aware that missions can go sideways, that things can escalate, that people can end up dead. Yes, it was drilled into him that his value is conditional and that death is sometimes even expected of him, depending on the mission. But more than anything, Natsume is always prepared to die because deep down, he kind of wants to.

Obviously falling in love with Mikan complicates that feeling, but he’s always been resigned to the fact that he and Mikan can’t ever be together, so that’s not something holding him back. He knows he will die, so maybe his martyr complex is motivated by pushing things along and speeding up the inevitable. We know that Natsume has been, to some extent, ready to die ever since he came to the academy, so whenever he goes on a dangerous mission, he is acutely aware that he might die. His life is pretty meaningless to him and he seems to not understand just how important he is to other people (in roles far more profound than simply “protector,” such as friend, son, brother, lover, etc.), which doesn’t help the suicidal feelings at all. If he must die, and if he kind of wants to, then at least his death can come with the added benefit or protecting his loved ones, right?

Death in slow motion.

Mikan’s situation is a little different. Though it’s indisputable that Mikan has a self esteem issue, she certainly is not suicidal. Whereas Natsume might be resigned to death, Mikan is very obviously frightened here. He might have been acutely aware that he was potentially facing death by coming here, but Mikan definitely was not. Mikan still has an idealistic idea that things can work out, that people can be saved, and that everyone will be safe if she wills it enough. Persona’s alice taking the toll that it does is entirely out of left field. She never, in her wildest dreams, would have imagined this could happen, that she could die here.

Her resignation isn’t related to suicidal ideation or even to giving up. Instead, it’s a sad kind of acceptance. As far as she knows, surviving Persona’s alice is impossible. She certainly doesn’t want to die, but she knows she will. After Pengy, she has come to terms with the fact that death is an inescapable risk during missions like this, so why should she be exempt? And she doesn’t want her friends to die with her. And so she tells them to run away, to leave her behind. She will fight Persona until she dies because there isn’t much else she can do in her state. Mikan is exhibiting a level of maturity she shouldn’t possess yet. She came to accept her imminent death in a matter of minutes, a difficult feat for grown adults, let alone an eleven-year-old girl.

She wants to protect these people. We’ve been watching Mikan this whole time, really, so we know that Mikan’s desire from the beginning was to be strong, to be able to protect people, to be able to sacrifice something for the people she loves. That’s why she calls herself “selfish” for asking them to leave. She’s always wanted to sacrifice herself, and this is her chance to do that. If she can’t do it now, on her deathbed, then she will die never having done it (in her view), which means that letting her die in the manner of her choosing, by keeping Persona at bay and letting them escape, would actually be benefiting her. It would be selfish of her.

It is for this reason that I said earlier that this arc could be, narratively speaking, the final arc. When it comes to Mikan’s character, things could feasibly be wrapped up here. From the beginning, what have we been looking for? Figuring Natsume out--check. Seeing if Mikan’s alice could be “useful”--check. Watching Mikan finally sacrifice something--check. Most of the main themes established within the first few chapters of the manga are addressed within this arc.

Of course, it’s not a very satisfying ending. We still have plenty of mysteries to solve and character arcs to wrap up, but for Mikan, you could reasonably argue that this arc could have been used to finish her story.

In any case, it’s also important that when she’s visualizing her protection she’s thinking so much of Natsume. I don’t think Natsume is the only person she’s thinking of, or that she wants to protect him much more than her other friends. Instead, I think that Ruka’s story is fresh in her mind. Natsume has spent his entire life protecting others. Mikan finds this simultaneously sad and admirable. In some way she covets his effortless selflessness while at the same time wishing he could be protected too. This choice to stay with Persona satisfies both of those feelings. She can now be the selfless one while also protecting Natsume for a change. (These feelings are intermingled with the contrasting desire to live, and to stay with the people she loves forever, and yet only the declarations of protection are said out loud. The helpless and sad thoughts stay inside. Mikan can be many things but she will not allow herself to be remembered sad.)

Apparently, Aoi has a similar thought process of watching (or rather hearing since she can't see) others protect, particularly her big brother. She considers this her chance too. Besides, she knows Persona. Maybe she can get through to him? So she pleads with him to stop, appealing to the humanity she’s sure he has. He’d always presented himself as kind to her, a victim rather than an oppressor, which is why she’s so certain that this behavior is out of character for him. She is still not quite aware that she’d been played, that she was his victim all along too.

(And yes I do truly believe Aoi was played here. I'm not a fan of Nobara and Persona ending up together, but Nobara did see all parts of him and was still patient and empathetic with him and you could argue there was a degree of transparency with them, especially towards the end, despite the clear abuse she endured at his hands. Aoi, on the other hand, was fed convenient information to keep her docile and pliant. He lied about their relationship and erased Natsume from her history so that she didn't complain about being trapped in the same prison he spent his childhood in. Again, Persona knows first-hand how horrendous that dungeon is and he was not just complicit but actively involved in keeping another child there. His chats with her might in some small part have been driven by the motivation to keep her company so she's not as lonely as he was, but it's still primarily selfish manipulation done without a lick of self-reflection. There's really nothing endearing to me about the way Persona treated Aoi. I just can't with this guy, honestly.)

Persona--somehow offended by Aoi begging him to… not kill her new friends? (I’m joking; obviously I’m fully aware of Persona’s fucked up psychology, but that still doesn’t excuse or justify any of his actions so they’re still ??? to me.)--insults Aoi and pretty much tells her she no longer has value enough to live, same rhetoric given to Natsume. He moves to use his alice on her, and Mikan once more takes the brunt of his alice to protect Aoi, and to protect Natsume.

(It’s interesting that Yakumo, who is perhaps the most solemn and serious member of the DA class yet, who takes orders like a champ and doesn’t deviate from them like Hayate or Rui did, is so horrified by Persona’s actions and speaks up against them. He seems most the quiet soldier type, the kind who follows all orders without question, and yet he still speaks up, protesting that Persona is going too far. I’m kind of sad that we get so little of him.)

Mikan has been told this whole time that one more hit of his alice and she would definitely end up dead. She doesn’t want to die, but Persona has been attacking her friends over and over again. It’s important to note that none of the times Mikan was hit were by Persona intentionally aiming for her. Each time, she made the conscious choice to put herself in danger to save a friend. The first time, she was unaware that her action would result in danger. The second time, she was more aware, but the situation still didn’t seem hopeless quite yet. But this third time, Mikan knows she’s signing her life away. This is perhaps the most informed of all three choices. This time, Mikan knows she will die, but she also knows that not doing so would be unacceptable. Not doing so would mean Aoi dies, and Aoi dying would be a tragedy because Aoi is a bright girl who deserves to live, but also because Aoi dying would mean Natsume suffers, and she cannot allow him to suffer anymore.

Mikan tackles Persona and thinks of her loved ones: Jii-chan, her friends, Natsume, Narumi-sensei… She silently begs them to lend her strength. All of the people she knows and admires, who all demonstrated strength and sacrifice time and time again, help her convictions in this moment.

Never fear, Dad is here!

And the ghost of her father, whose presence she has felt before, appears to “lend her strength,” heightening her alice, helping his daughter. I am certain that Mikan can feel his presence now too, but she doesn’t know exactly what she’s feeling and she’s already so unwell, so close to death, that she probably isn’t in the state to analyze it. Mikan does it: she defeats Persona, who runs off screaming and crying at the impact of his own alice.

Then she falls unconscious.

Chapter Sixty-Nine

How heart-breaking that this chapter’s cover is an impossible scene, of Mikan with her mysterious father, her mysterious protector, her favorite ghost. At this point, the reader is only aware of Mikan’s father in a limited sense: the sensei Yuka loved, the teacher who made such a large impact in the lives of the students, who apparently did not kill himself, who had the same alice as Mikan, the same desire to protect. We know very little about him (and Mikan knows far less than even we do), but we know he loves his daughter. The chapter title reminds us that she was robbed of that.

Anyway, there’s a lot going on with her friends, but Mikan is unconscious for a bit, so we’re going to focus on her internal struggle.

First, she is in excruciating pain. The stains are burning hot and she can feel her body desperately try to fight off Persona’s alice. She wants to live, and her body is doing what it can to keep her alive.

Secondly, she can hear a distant voice, the voice of a woman, wishing for Mikan to be resilient, to be able to defend herself, to protect someone she loves. It’s so interesting that Mikan, on the brink of death, is remembering the vague memory of the beginning of her life, when her mother made that wish. So the memory of her father stops by to assist her in defeating Persona, and then the memory of her mother soothes her as she fights off the mark of death trying to kill her. Mikan, who has no solid memories of her parents, is still comforted by them when she’s hurt. Like I said when Hotaru was dying from that poisonous bullet, little girls want their mommy and daddy when they’re hurt. And Mikan, for all of her self-sacrifice and noble declarations of protection, is still just a little girl.

Did I complain about the scans earlier? That was rude of me. It can always get worse, you know. The TokyoPops definitely aren't perfect but damn...

In any case, Mikan is unconscious for a little while, until, while her friends bicker with the student council over the consequences of their actions, Natsume proclaims that it’s all his fault, so he should take Aoi and leave the school.

It’s a fucking stupid plan. Everyone thinks so. I always cringe when he declares it and then Subaru and Sakurano instantly shut it down. Ugh. He can be a dumbass sometimes too. The martyr complex makes him an idiot from time to time.

But Mikan is awake and can hear him. Even in her weak state, she speaks up, asking if he’s really leaving the school. “Leaving us?” HMM. I have a lot of thoughts on this.

First, I will admit that this chapter kinda bores me. It’s my least favorite part of this arc. I find it a little lackluster since most of the rest of the arc is so intense. Regardless, this little moment where Mikan asks Natsume where he’s going is one of my favorite little moments, even thought it only lasts two pages (shorter than their kiss, even, though I'd argue a lot of scenes are).

Mikan, who is currently in the process of dying, is so disturbed by the idea of Natsume leaving (even though she might not even be around to miss him), that she pulls herself up to call out to him and ask him if he’s serious. We already know from the Z Arc just how much Mikan hates the idea of being without Natsume. That wish to keep him with her was powerful enough that her alice could work from all the way across the room, even without the proximity or tackling she usually uses. But this time, it’s Natsume’s idea to leave. There’s no alice to nullify or enemies that she can currently vanquish to keep him with her. All she can do is ask him if he’s going to really leave.

She is to weak to actively follow the conversation, but talk of Natsume leaving is simply not acceptable.

And, of course, there's the fascinating fact that she says, “You’re going to leave us?” which is the safer thing to ask. I’ve talked enough about Mikan’s reluctance to make herself vulnerable with Natsume, to say the hard and scary thing. If you thought that hesitation might be lessened by her present condition, you are sorely mistaken! She has so far been dishonest with her feelings, even on the brink of death, keeping to herself how scared and hurt she truly is. So far she hasn’t confessed her fear with anybody. She can’t even phrase it properly in her head either, because even her own thoughts ask if Natsume is “leaving all of us?” You know what I’m about to say, because, yes, Natsume would be leaving everybody, but her most pressing concern is that he’d be leaving her. “Us” seems safer than “me,” just like “You’re ignoring people” or “saying people’s names all of a sudden,” so on and so forth forever. Mikan is people, whenever it comes to Natsume. She’d rather be part of a group that is affected by Natsume, rather than one person who loves him so much she can’t stand the thought of losing him. “Are you leaving us?” is a general question. Leaving the school, his class, etc. Is he going? “Are you leaving me?” on the other hand, is personal, vulnerable, heavy, and scary, perhaps even scarier to admit than that she might be dying. Facts versus feelings. It’s all very complicated.

Anyway, Natsume gets his plan ripped to shreds by Subaru and Sakurano, which is a huge relief, because that means he probably won’t actually be going anywhere (but how dare he even consider it, right? Especially because that plan was stupid and wouldn't have fixed anything). Ruka speaks up, declaring that Aoi shouldn’t be forced to stay at the school, held over Natsume’s head, when she doesn’t even have an alice anymore. This leads to Tono coming up with the idea to out the school as having kept a non-alice in the school against her will, which is very bad PR. (I also find this resolution so lackluster. A newspaper scandal solves this whole issue? What??? …Irrelevant.)

Everyone plays a role in sending out the paper planes, even dying Mikan, in order to liberate Aoi and clear Natsume’s name. In no time at all, their plan pans out and the kids are in the clear (though their actions will bear heavy consequences to come). Mikan watches Natsume and Aoi on the TV, and because her reaction takes a whole sparkly panel, I think it’s noteworthy.

So apparently these scans aren't just lackluster, they're also out of order! Crim and I were noticing that when she was helping me with translations. In any case, special shout out to Crim for always being so helpful! Without her, these essays would be inaccurate and sorely lacking!

Mostly, I think Mikan is relieved here. Their plan worked, which means Natsume can stay here after all. He won’t be leaving her, which means he can stay by her side for at least a little longer. Whether she can admit it to herself or not, whether she’s even aware of it or not, Mikan is in love with Natsume, and, as a result, the idea of him leaving in any capacity is deeply upsetting to her. Finding out that the plan to keep him here is working is thus a huge relief.

The chapter ends with Mikan’s condition getting worse and a stone appearing in her hand. Though, to be honest, I think that her condition was “getting worse” because it was peaking before she started getting better. When you’re sick, the bacteria or virus attempts to hurt you from the inside. Most symptoms of sickness--in whatever form--are actually the body’s own defense. A fever is the body’s way of burning the disease. Vomiting is the body’s way of forcefully expelling it. Persona’s alice isn’t a disease in the same way that a virus or bacteria is, but he’s still making her ill, trying to kill her. And her body is fighting back.

So finding out that her fever is spiking is a good thing, because it means her body is fighting even harder to keep her alive. The fact that she first utilizes her stealing alice here is further proof of her fierce desire to live. As a NatsuMikan shipper, I like to believe that her earlier relief at Natsume being able to stay might have given her the last push she needed to fully save herself. There’s no real proof of that, other than the order of events (first we see her watching Natsume on TV, then we see her save herself with a dormant alice she didn’t even know she had), but I’m still inclined to believe it.

Chapter Seventy

I won’t analyze the conversation the others have about Mikan possibly possessing the stealing alice. It’s not relevant to her or to NatsuMikan. I’ll talk more about Mikan, the stealing alice, and her relationship to Yuka later on when it becomes more relevant.

For now, we’re skipping ahead in time to a week later, when Mikan is finally up after a period of healing. Once again, a big adventure “ends safely,” with all her friends (and her!) alive and well. She’s reunited with her classmates and feeling just fine despite Persona’s many attempts to murder her. She and the others aren’t allowed to talk about what happened at the Hanahimeden, though, which is one major downside. Their punishment is being postponed due to a lack of evidence, but that’s just the formal side of things. We know, since we’ve already read this story (presumably? It would be weird if you were getting all your GA info second-hand from me!!) that the ESP is planning on punishing the kids in his own way.

Must be a miracle.

In any case, today is Aoi’s release day, when she will finally be reunited with her father after almost three long years. Her memories have been fully restored and her blindness has finally been cured (proving once more that Persona was telling her lies in the cage about having to wait until she earned the right to be cured). Aoi sees Mikan for the first time and they share another sweet moment of connection (why couldn’t Aoi have stayed to join Class B??? Grr!!!), where Mikan assures everyone that’s just fine now, though she has no idea how.

Tono, Hotaru, and Tsubasa have joked to her about her “taking” their alices, references she doesn’t understand. Ultimately, despite what others may think, Mikan regards her recovery as a miracle. I think it makes sense that she would too, since she was able to defeat Persona with the miraculous aid of a ghost (whose presence she certainly felt even if she couldn’t analyze the situation), so why couldn’t that same ghost, or that mysterious woman whose voice she heard, have helped her get better somehow? Mikan is certainly the type to believe in miracles, because Mikan believes in happy endings. If logic and reason or skill and willpower can’t acquire the happy ending, then divine intervention will. She believes that good will prevail. Even now.

Natsume points out that this was supposed to be a small, quiet affair, saying goodbye to Aoi. But everyone wanted to see his little sister, and they also, according to Koko, wanted to know if he was really going to leave with her.

Mikan watches Natsume, suddenly worried all over again. Aoi will be safely returned to her family, but all of Natsume’s actions, including coming to the academy in the first place, were motivated by protecting his sister. If she’s no longer here to be used as a bargaining chip, then will Natsume leave with her, or try to escape somehow? She is genuinely worried that he will say yes, that he will leave after all. And Mikan really doesn’t want that.

“Is he leaving everyone?”

“Is he leaving us?”

Higuchi Tachibana sticking with this evasiveness of Mikan's when it comes to Natsume (an evasiveness she doesn't have with any other character) is so important, because it makes the moments where she's honest so much more potent. I say this because the Sports Fest is on the horizon...

I don’t know why “us” would be the emphatic after “everyone,” since they refer to the same generalized plural, other than for the exact same reasons I outlined in Chapter Sixty-Nine. When she says “us,” she means “me.” But it’s not easy to admit that she wants him to stay by her side, or, on the other hand, to admit that his leaving would feel like she was personally being left behind. Regardless of what she is or isn’t willing to admit to herself, that’s certainly the concern here.

But he announces to everyone that he’s not leaving. That should be a huge relief because Mikan was genuinely so worried that she’d parted from him, but it’s still not a happy moment, because if he’s not leaving, that means that he won’t be spending anymore time with Aoi, with whom he was only recently reunited. It’s still sad for him, even if Mikan is happy that he won’t be leaving her.

Aoi asks everyone to take care of her brother, voicing gratefulness that she was able to meet everyone. She regrets that she couldn’t be their classmate (and she speaks for me as well, because I have no idea why she couldn’t be! Have her stay! Why even introduce her in the first place if she’s just gonna be written off right away? I don’t get it.). She and their father will make a happy home, where they will be waiting to welcome Natsume so he can have a happy life with them. And then Mikan watches as Natsume, Aoi, and Ruka reunite with their parents. Mikan knows their story, particularly how Natsume never even got a proper goodbye with his father. She is moved to tears by the reunions.

Is it her? I think it's her. Even with her denial, her thoughts are so loving...

There’s someone’s thoughts saying “Natsume, Natsume,” and I can’t help but assume it’s Mikan, who is just happy to see him finally get something good happen to him. He saw his father again, was reunited with his sister, and was finally able to say a proper goodbye to both, after all this time. It feels like a victorious moment, like a win, and for her too. Mikan fought so hard in the Hanahimeden to secure Natsume’s happiness. All she wanted that whole day was for Natsume to finally get what he deserved, for his suffering to cease. It seems like she’s finally achieved her goal.

She wonders aloud if she’ll see her grandpa soon (sooner than you might imagine, Mikan…), which causes her to panic about the ESP’s postponed punishment. Hotaru tells her that her biggest concern should be to behave from now on, because even the slightest slip up could result in a demotion of star rank, which means Mikan could end up a no star again!

Cute!

Ruka throws his stars away, declaring that he’s now a no-star too. It’s a symbolic gesture--he’s still a triple and will still be treated as such--but he’s simultaneously challenging the stupid hierarchy that chained Natsume down to begin and aligning himself with Mikan to both comfort her and rebel against the school.

What this means for Mikan is that her situation is different now than it was when she first came to the school. She’s now close friends with all her classmates. They’re all willing to help her out and be on her team. Whatever may come next, she won’t be dealing with it alone. They will be by her side.

Even Natsume, who’s smiling brightly now just like everyone else.

(So she really did do it, huh? Secure his happiness by reuniting him, however temporarily, with his sister? Or, you know, by being the love of his life. Whatever works!)

Anyway, I said I had notes, and now that the arc is finished I can share. I said at the beginning of this essay that seasons play a meaningful role in Mikan's story. Starting with winter, moving into summer, then tasting the cruel loss of autumn, and now back to winter.

"[W]inter represents sorrow, struggle, and of course death."

Quite obviously, Persona is a clear mirror for the most negative aspects of winter. He threatens to take Natsume away from her, promising loss and loneliness, especially so soon after Mikan realizes just how at place and accepted Natsume makes her feel. Furthermore, his dangerous alice is inherently related to death and decay--when he uses it on Mikan, it's pretty much a foregone conclusion that she will die. Thus, Mikan goes through a struggle of her own, ultimately choosing her friends' safety and Natsume's happiness over her own life, though it's not an easy choice to make. Persona represents the evil school in this arc, too, so Mikan finally understands the school's capacity for malice here, in winter. Though you could argue before that the school was mainly fun and games with the occasional screwup, now the corruption and deceitfulness of the academy are undeniable. Evil is more clear now, especially to Mikan, than ever before.

Additionally, we have Natsume--a lonely, dark, emotionless, sad, evil character. Except, that's not an apt description, is it? This Discovering Natsume arc let us explore his depths. Winter is as much a Natsume season symbolically as you can get, which is why we get his backstory here. Though we--and Mikan--know Natsume better than to trust anything directly on the surface. He, like winter, may appear harsh and cruel and even evil, and Mikan finds herself at odds with him a lot in this season, particularly with his confusing and mysterious motives. But she's misunderstanding him, just as people misunderstand winter. Winter is not evil. it is not cold to cause suffering. It is necessary to face the cold chill of winter in order to meet the warmth of spring. It has to be done, however unpleasant, so winter does it. Similarly, Natsume is cold out of necessity, not sadism. Mikan finally understands that and via this understanding, she's finally able to see just how lonely he's been, how dark and despairing his life has been. There's really no better season for the arc than this.

This arc wraps up the winter season, more or less. The next arc is a transition arc, which means I won't be talking about seasons. Nonetheless, I'll discuss spring during the Sports Fest, summer during the Escape Arc, and then winter again... all in due time.

Conclusion

This arc ended pretty "safely," though there's plenty of questions about the consequences of the kids' actions. What will happen going forward when punishment seems so certain? Who's to say? Additionally, now that Mikan has "discovered" Natsume (though there's more to come), her feelings will start cementing. She already loved him, of course, but it's becoming undeniable, even for her, though she will do her very best.

I take notes on these at work, yes. I ponder a theme and take notes--literary notes. I write little musings or I doodle or I look through random Wikipedia rabbit holes, but I usually play sudoku. Recently I had the idea of learning Japanese so I spent all of my Friday shift practicing hiragana. I made a pretty handy color coded chart that I'm proud of. We'll see how it goes. I want to learn Japanese for many reasons, but I won't lie that one compelling reason is my desire to finally play the GA game I've had for years now that I can't play otherwise.

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#gakuen alice #alice academy #ga #sakura mikan #mikan sakura #natsume hyuuga #hyuuga natsume #my meta #ga meta #ga meta: nm #ga meta: manga #ga meta: manga nm #let's talk about natsumikan #let's talk about natsumikan: mikan #if ur thinking to yourself 'anya we know u hate the next/prev buttons they always look like shit'#THATS WHY I HATE THEM! no matter what i do they always look terrible.#i spent like 40 minutes on them once trying to make them look uniform but when i saved #they still turned out awful #i HATE THEM SO MUCH GRRRRR #nm: m song of the day is....... drumrolll pls.....#'biko' by bloc party #HELL YEAH bloc party!! long time coming but ive finally come to represent one of my fav bands. ive loved them since i was 13... <3 <3 #and biko fits so well!!! i love it #also the text to image ratio might be wack but i mean cmon. the scans situation is so tragic.#meanwhile my analysis is pretty in depth so theres a lot of words especially bc i go on so many tangents

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hoghtastic · 11 months ago

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Alex is one of the most gorgeous and mesmerizing people I've ever seen and I'm honestly shocked with his glow down, specially in the past year. His features are less defined, there are even a few wrinkles, his eyes are dark and tired, and he looks drained. I wonder (and would like to know the fandom's view on this) if it's a shared opinion and, regarding the causes, if it's really due to aging (since the peak of his beauty in my opinion was in 2018, when he was 25 or so, and he's about to turn 30 this year, which is still so young), or if there really has been some change in his lifestyle (since he's always worked out a lot and has taken good care of his appearance) or mental health issues that have led him to lose that glow he used to have. So sad.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts on this, anon! 😊 Personally, I agree that he’s still very young, even though due to a combination of genetics and lifestyle, some people will age faster than others. Although, in my opinion, Alex is aging normally and he looks his age. But I also agree that he looked his best around 2017/2018 — he had long hair, which really suits him (in my opinion) and seemed to put more effort into how he dressed. His face was also slimmer, which accentuated his features. Now it’s a little fuller, which might be a normal consequence of aging, but I do think he still looks very handsome.

I also agree that if we compare pictures from a year ago with more recent ones, we can see a change in his expression. He seems to smile less (genuine smiles, not the ones he does for fan pictures, for example) and he does look somewhat tired. But we also need to keep in mind that those pictures we see are just glimpses into his everyday life. So maybe he had been worrying about something and didn’t sleep well that day? Maybe he wasn’t feeling well, physically or mentally/emotionally? Or maybe it has been a more permanent state and, like you mentioned, some changes in his lifestyle caused this. We can only speculate at this point. 🤷‍♀️

Something I think is also worth mentioning, is that when we are “infatuated” with someone, we tend to see them in a very positive light, as if they’re flawless or ideal. When that wears off, or if we become “disenchanted” with them, we might see them in a very different light. Thus, we might realise that someone we once saw as beautiful and perfect, might not be all that. (Like when we get over a crush and think “He/She wasn’t even that cute!” 😆) So I think this could also play a part in how some fans view Alex nowadays, in combination with the aforementioned factors.

This is just my opinion, of course, and if anyone would like to elaborate more on this subject, please feel free to share your thoughts as well! 😊

#anon asks

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

Text

𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || every client is different, with different needs; but this client is, in every way, exceptional.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 5k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣��𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut (cnc), dom/sub relationship, ‘mistress’ title, pain kink, cockwarming, orgasm denial/control, use of a cockring, slapping, objectification/degradation, some angst and hurt/comfort, crying after sex, touchstarved!bucky

new parts posted on thursdays! join the taglist here

"And you can promise complete and total discretion?” the deep and husky voice on the other end of the line repeated, low enough that it was almost a whisper.

You laughed a little. “Of course,” you answered. Most clients were serious about privacy, but this guy was next level. He must be famous, you thought to yourself, or married. Or both.

But just as much as your clients wanted to keep you separate from their personal life, you would rather they know nothing about who you are. Of course it was always a risk, since nobody could hide their face and you had to work out of your apartment, but you did what you could to keep your job just that— a job.

You told your friends you were a consultant, because people didn’t question that. Sure, it was hard to keep up the lie sometimes when you got last-minute bookings and had to cancel plans, but it was worth it for the money these men were willing to pay.

And this new guy? He was shelling out all kinds of cash, on a long set of conditions. Including an NDA. You wouldn’t have given him up either way, but if the contract made him feel better (and made him pay more) then you were happy to sign it.

“So it’s all anonymous, then? No ID, no credit card…?” he pressed.

“I mean, if cash is easier for you—”

“It is.”

You were starting to worry that this was a major red flag, as if he didn’t want to be traceable back to you at all. It was almost a dealbreaker, until you glanced down at the legal pad you’d written his offer on and remembered that you couldn’t afford to turn him down. “Then cash is fine,” you decided, making a note to yourself to have 911 already dialed when he came by in case his aversion to ID was really about a desire to get away with something.

“When can we start?”

“Um, well the soonest I can do is tomorrow at seven” you explained.

"Great, I'll be there," he answered firmly, apparently about to hand up.

“Hey, hey, slow down!” you chuckled. “Can I at least get a name?”

“I didn’t think we needed to do names.”

“We don’t… but if you’re willing, I’d like to know something to call you.”

“James,” he answered after a tense pause. “James is fine.”

“Alright, James, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Upon opening the door, you instantly noticed three things about him: he was tall, he was big, and he was sexy.

You had sort of been hoping that his appearance wouldn’t match his voice, but it did, and it was going to make this so much harder. Maybe easier in a few ways, but overall worse. It was important that you didn’t get too emotionally invested with your clients.

His eyes were dragging over you like he was just as taken aback. Which was odd, because he must have seen your picture online before he called you.

“James,” you greeted. “Glad you made it.”

You stepped aside to let him enter, guiding him to take a seat in your living room. Before clients came by, you hid any signs of life and kept the space as neutral as possible, which was why the only furniture was the white couch he sat on, the black chair across from it, and a glass table in between.

You sat in the black chair and crossed your legs, noticing with pride the way his eyes studied your every move.

“It’s important that we have a discussion about boundaries and limits before this goes any further," you explained sternly, and he nodded slightly. "Tell me what you do and don't want."

“Uh, well, I guess I was just looking for… somebody who can administer, um, discipline… you know, someone who sets rules and enforces them. But could also be kind of, uh, sweet I guess, to. Not too sweet, just… not too mean either."

You smiled a little; he sounded right up your alley. "I can do that."

"You should know I… I have a… disability. My left arm it's, um, it's a prosthetic."

"How would you like me to accommodate that?"

"Just don't say anything about it, please. Treat it like a normal arm. And, uh, if you could ignore my scars, too…" he added awkwardly.

"Of course,” you nodded, “I would never want to make you feel insecure."

"Well, I mean, I'm not against degradation," he admitted sheepishly, making you smile a little.

"Right: that's different. Anything else you're distinctly not against?"

“I can take a lot of pain,” he explained matter-of-factly. “However much you think I can handle, double it. I wanna feel it.”

You could almost hear the words he wasn’t saying: I wanna feel something.

“Okay, we can do that. You’ve probably heard of the color system," you posited.

“I haven’t.”

"Oh." That threw you off slightly… how new was he to this scene? “Well, it’s traditionally green, yellow, red; like a stoplight. Red means stop. Yellow means proceed with caution. Green means continue.”

“Sounds simple enough.”

“Too simple for me, in fact. I have my own version: ‘red’ will make me stop what I’m doing, but only ‘black’ ends the scene entirely. And then there’s ‘blue.’ That means you want more.”

He smirked a little; a strong show of emotion compared to his stoicism so far. “I think I’ll use that one most.”

“Just don’t be afraid to use anything else, alright? I’d never be disappointed in you for safewording, or even just needing a break.”

He nodded. “Can we get to it then?”

“You’re rushing as always,” you laughed. “I’m not charging you for this part. We have plenty of time— don’t we?”

“Yes, but—” he sighed. “You look really… I walked in and, I guess I’m just really looking forward to this.”

You almost would’ve smiled at the compliment but you thankfully suppressed it. “And what is it that you’re looking forward to? What do you want me to do to you?”

His jaw tightened as he looked away from you. “Um, there’s a lot.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Ropes. Strongest you have. I can buy you stronger ones if you need them, for next time…”

He’s already thinking about next time? He’s already thinking about buying me things?

“Alright, I can do ropes: wrists and ankles? Or more than that?”

He seemed a bit confused by that question. “Is there anywhere else?”

“Torso,” you enumerated, “neck—” you stopped because you saw his reaction to that, and it made you smile a bit. “Okay, so maybe the neck is something to try. Do you like being choked?”

“I… I don’t know…” he sighed.

“Have you ever been choked before?”

“Not… sexually...”

You felt your eyebrows rise, but didn’t want to press; a story for another time, perhaps.

“We’ll have to discuss silent safewords and signals so you can tap out, but if you’d be willing to try it—”

“Yes.”

You laughed. “Eager, are we?”

He swallowed, and you wondered if you shouldn’t have let your ‘dom voice’ slip out in that moment… but he looked so good flustered like that. He adjusted himself slightly in his chair and you hoped he was already hard. And with that thought in mind, you couldn’t stop yourself from teasing him further.

“Do you like being called certain things?” you asked, voice lower as you leaned forward. “How do you feel about ‘pet’?”

He almost kept up his poker face, but his gaze faltered at the same time he moved in his chair again. “Um, ‘pet’ is okay.”

“Baby boy?”

“Not really my speed,” he shrugged.

You slipped out of your chair and stood up, approaching him slowly as the click of your heels echoed across the tile. He watched you with wide eyes and quickening breaths.

“What do you like? Tell me,” you demanded, though you kept your tone light.

“Uh,” he paused, watching your hand as it rested on his leg, “I like… I like being called a good boy.”

You grinned as you pulled your hand away, watching him tense up with disappointment. “I can do that,” you agreed, lifting his chin with a finger until he looked at you with those beautiful, desperate eyes, “if you actually are being a good boy for me.” “I will,” he promised quickly, “I’ll be so good.”

“Mmm, I bet you will,” you purred. “So willing to please…”

“Tell me how,” he sighed as your hand trailed from his chin down to his chest, slipping under the loose collar of his henley and rubbing his chest. “Tell me how to please you.”

“Well, for starters, I have a name, too: Mistress.”

He sighed like the wind had been knocked out of him, but nodded.

“And if I ask you a question, I expect you to answer ‘Yes, Mistress’ or ‘No, Mistress’. Is that clear?”

“Uh-huh,” he agreed before suddenly correcting himself, “um, yes, Mistress.”

“I’ll let you have that one,” you frowned, “but further infractions will be punished.”

“Yes, Mistress; I’m sorry, Mistress,” he moaned, melting under your touch as your hand moved down to rub his thigh through his jeans.

“Now, just for fun,” you smiled, leaning down until your lips were nearly brushing his ear, “tell me what you want.”

“Please touch me, Mistress,” he sighed.

“But I am touching you.”

“Touch my… touch my cock," he clarified, adorably embarrassed. "It’s so hard for you…”

“We’ll get to that eventually. Let’s go to the bedroom first, okay?”

However good he looked standing in your doorway half an hour ago, it was nothing compared to how he looked naked and hard and tied to your bed.

Yes, the prosthetic and the scars that attached it to his body were hard to ignore. He had failed to warn you that it was metal, so you couldn’t hide the slight shift of your face when it caught the light; you hoped he didn’t think it was a look of judgment or disgust, because you truly didn’t think it was anything upsetting. Maybe the scars were a little worrying… but they didn’t seem to bother him now, at least physically.

But truly, if anything was distracting about his body, it wasn’t the arm. It was his muscles— no wait, it had to be his cock, right? It’s tough to call: on one hand, his entire body was toned and hardened beyond the peak of human conditioning, his thick thighs making your mouth water already, his chiseled abs almost making you jealous; but on the other hand, between those lovely thighs and curving up against those perfect abs was a cock that rivalled anything you'd ever seen before, with a blue vein running up one side and a drip of precum rolling down the other.

You finally sauntered up to the bed and ran your fingers over the taught ropes, pretending to ignore him watching you impatiently. It was almost hotter knowing that he could pull out of the ropes if he really wanted to. More than most, he was choosing to submit to them and to you.

“How’s this knot feel? Too tight?” you hummed, tugging the rope just beside his wrist and watching his hand move limply with it.

“No, it’s good.”

You stepped back to the foot of the bed and stripped slowly, peeling off your black dress to reveal a matching lace set underneath. You left your heels on as you stepped out of the dress and kicked it aside.

Turning back to face him, James looked like he was all but drooling. You could see in his eyes how much he wished the ropes weren’t holding him back so he could run his hands all over your body.

But you could tell he craved being denied what he wanted, by the way his cock flexed of its own volition.

You let yourself smile as you crawled your way up the bed and over his body, like a panther stalking its prey, and boy did he look ready to be devoured.

"Are you scared?" you asked quietly. He shook his head. "Are you ready?"

He nodded. You sat up as you straddled him, positioned just right such that no part of you was really touching him, and watched with delight as he tugged against the ropes slightly to try to get closer.

"So needy," you grinned, somewhere between praising and scolding him. Your fingers ghosted over his chest and he shivered; he asked you to treat his prosthetic like a normal arm, so you dragged your nails down the metal and watched his eyes flutter shut. When you pulled your hand back and left him untouched again, he whined slightly.

“Aw, poor thing,” you pouted as you examined him, desperation emanating off of him in an invisible aura. “Your cock is all red and leaking… it must hurt, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he groaned.

“What if I touch it a little?” you offered.

“Please…”

You traced your fingers lightly up and down his length, tickling the skin and giving him the least pressure that you could. He whimpered and you chuckled mockingly. “I said I’d touch it a little, sweet boy, are you not satisfied?”

He bucked up into your touch as best he could, causing you to pull your hand away. “Baby, please—”

You cut him off with a slap to the face, as hard as you could muster.

“Mistress!” he corrected with a whine. “Mistress, please… please wrap your hand around it.”

“Around what?”

“Around… my cock. Stroke me, please…”

“All you had to do was ask,” you grinned, finally tightening your hand around him and moving slowly up and down the shaft. His head fell back with a soft moan, just from that. Your teasing had certainly helped get him this worked up, but you knew it wasn't just that… he was plenty sensitive all on his own, apparently.

It made your mouth water.

"Does this feel good, James?" you asked huskily.

"S-so good," he whimpered, "please can you… stroke it a little faster, please, Mistress…"

"Hmm, not yet," you decided, feeling him tense up beneath you. "Relax," you instructed with a free hand rubbing his thigh gently.

You continued to teasingly stroke his length, never quite giving him the pressure or speed he needed to get closer to his release, savoring every whimper and whine and sigh from him along with the satisfying weight of his cock against your palm.

It felt like you'd never get tired of wielding so much power in your hand.

"Please," he sighed, "I need more…"

"You want me to stroke you faster?" you pressed, already knowing that wasn't what he meant. He shook his head and you grinned, leaning in closer but letting go of his cock.

Slowly, you let the lace covering your core rub up against his shaft, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. "Ohhhhh," he moaned, "oh fuck, Mistress…"

You grinned and kept rocking against him, easily feeling the warmth of him through your panties— meaning he, in turn, could feel the warmth of you. "How does it feel, baby?"

"Good," he choked out, "really, really good… fuck, I want more, I need more, please…"

"Are you my good boy, James?" you asked in a low purr. He nodded eagerly, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nothing. "Do you want to be inside me?" you finally whispered against his ear, letting a finger run lazily up his spine and feeling him shiver so hard it was more like he was convulsing.

"Please, Mistress, I'll do anything…"

You didn't touch all of your clients sexually, due in part to the fact that they usually wanted a lot more pain than pleasure. You'd only had sex with one or two of them, and it wasn't a routine thing. Before today you never would've imagined doing this with a first-time client, but to be completely honest… he was fucking hot. The kind of guy you'd be spreading your legs for instantly if you weren't at work and he wanted to buy you a drink or grab lunch. And he was here, at your disposal, begging you for more. How could you say no?

You pulled your panties aside and gripped his cock tightly to guide it to your entrance, studying his face twisted in anticipation before sinking down and watching him gasp and sigh all at once, somehow.

It took a lot of effort to hide your own pleasure when he was stretching you out so perfectly, but you managed to suppress the desire to moan and just smile at his fucked-out expression instead.

Finally, your hips met with his and you got to sit there and enjoy the look of dawning agony as he realized you were staying completely still.

“Move, please,” he sobbed, “oh god, Mistress, please move…”

“But I thought you wanted to be inside me? Isn’t this what you asked for?”

He whined and tried to wiggle his hips; all that got him was two hard slaps to the face.

“No whining,” you instructed through your teeth. “Good boys don’t whine.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whimpered, “‘m your good boy, I promise.”

“I know you are,” you grinned, “or at least, I know you can be. Show me how good and patient you are.”

Reaching to the side a bit without getting off of him, you pulled a vibrator from your drawer. His eyes went a little wide when he saw it, and you laughed.

"Don't worry, this isn't for you. It's for me," you explained as you turned it on, inserting it between your body and his to touch the toy against your clit. He winced as you sighed contentedly. "Fuck, it feels good. Can you feel it on your cock?"

"A… a little…" he hissed.

"I bet it feels good for you too," you posited, "but not good enough to make you come."

After a little pause, he nodded breathlessly.

"Good," you smiled. "I just wanna come with your cock inside me. I wanna know how it feels to get off with my favorite toy while being full of my newest toy."

"Fuck," he groaned.

"Do you like that, pretty boy? Do you like me using your cock, being your Mistress' dumb little fucktoy?"

"Yes," he sobbed, hips shifting ever so slightly beneath you as he sought more stimulation from your flexing walls. Shifting the vibe to hit right on your clit, you cried out— and he did too, at the feeling of you tightening around him.

"God, you love being Mistress' dildo, don't you?"

He nodded, biting hard on his lip until you worried he'd hurt himself. He moaned again as another jolt of pleasure forced your channel to clench on his cock.

"You're making too much noise for a fucktoy, you need to be quiet."

He opened his mouth for a second, but closed it again and nodded instead.

"You can do it yourself right?" you pressed, seeing him nod. "You don't need me to gag that pretty mouth?"

He whined but shook his head, keeping his lips pressed together.

That went on for a few more moments as you teased yourself with the vibe, hoping to draw this out for the sake of his struggle. Wanting to up the ante, you took the vibe off your clit and turned it off for a moment. "I think this would feel better with a little lube… will you get it wet for me, James?"

You brought the toy to his lips and he eagerly wrapped them around it, sucking lightly on the silicone with those pretty lashes resting on his cheeks.

"There you go, that's a good boy," you praised, pulling the toy from his mouth, "that's my good boy…"

"Yours…" he repeated weakly, "wanna be good for you, just for you…"

This time when you turned it on and pressed it to your clit again, you instantly gasped and felt your walls bare down on him; turning up the vibration, you actually moaned aloud and saw him wince. "Oh, can you feel it now?" you asked tauntingly. He bit his lip and nodded.

It really wasn't even intentional but you felt your hips start to rock, making him gasp as his eyes shot open. For a guy who had been begging you to move not too long ago, he looked pretty overwhelmed by it now.

"Fuck, I'm gonna make myself come on your cock… do you wanna feel me come, baby?"

He seemed conflicted, which was exactly what you were going for. You wanted him to struggle, just enough, between his need to satisfy himself and his desire to please you. "I… I want to make you come, Mistress," he finally choked out, notably answering a slightly different question than the one you'd asked.

You smiled and leaned in to whisper in his ear: "Are you afraid that if you feel me come around you, you won't be able to hold back? That you might accidentally come inside me?"

He made a needy little groan and nodded.

"Don't worry, baby, I'm gonna help you," you promised sweetly, but of course as soon as he saw you grab a cockring from your drawer he changed his tune.

"N-no, Mistress, please," he begged with wide eyes, "I'll be good, just not that— don't put that on me."

You smirked and sat up, pulling off of him and slowly slipping the ring on his throbbing length as he quietly pleaded for mercy. He winced when you pushed it down to the base of him, his cheeks burning hot red now.

"Is it a little too tight, baby?" you cooed, grinning when he nodded. "Good."

You sank back down into him and let your hips grind on his, working your clit with the vibe and even kicking it up to the next highest setting. He jolted beneath you, clearly feeling the vibrations strongly now, and you let the view of his beautifully broken facial expression egg on your own climax.

"Mm, I'm close, baby," you whispered, "just stay still and let Mistress use you like a good little boy."

He made a small noise through his teeth but seemed to manage okay, even when your walls began to pulse rhythmically around him and your head fell back, your free hand palming at your breast through the lace bra just to add that last little edge of sensation.

"Oh fuck, fuck," you moaned, "that's my good boy…"

You shakily pulled the vibe away and turned it off, still a little numb on your clit but feeling your channel still rippling slightly with aftershocks; he seemed to feel them in spite of their subtlety, if the panting breaths that filled his muscular chest rapidly were any indication.

As slow as you could manage, you pulled your body off of him and sat back on his legs to stare at his cock. The remnants of your orgasm left plenty of lubrication to stroke it, focusing on the head which had turned almost purple now.

"M-Mistress," he groaned, writhing under your touch.

Amazingly, his cock was already flexing in your hand, and a growl of pride and hunger echoed in your chest.

“Oh fuck, can you come for me, James?” you moaned, pumping him so fast your hand was a blur. “Can you be my good boy and come right through the cockring?”

“Yes,” he sobbed, “gonna come, Mistress, please—”

“Come right now,” you demanded, watching his face instantly fall slack as he spurted out onto his own chest and stomach, cock flexing and pulsing in your hands as his legs quivered and his hips thrusted wildly.

And the tears were flowing soon after. You weren’t sure if it was sub drop or just the power of his release, but between weak sobs he whispered broken apologies.

“You did so good,” you cooed as you slipped off the ring and wrapped your arms around him, subtly trying to reach over to untie the ropes. But you didn’t need to; he flexed his arms and the restraints popped like floss. He embraced you in return as you let his head fall onto your chest. “You’re so good, it’s okay,” you continued, stroking his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated again, breathing quickly and wetting you with his tears.

This, you realized, is what he had made you sign the contract to protect. It wasn’t that he was excessively embarrassed about his sexual proclivities, but that this was his space to be soft, and weak, and broken. Apparently he wasn’t ready for anyone else to know that he wasn’t steel all the way down.

“Shh, it’s okay… you’re okay…” you breathed, indulging him in this moment even though it was more intimate than you preferred to get with customers. Aftercare was an important part of your job, certainly, but so was enforcing boundaries.

He began to soothe as you kissed his forehead gently, whispering well-deserved affirmations and praise. As his breathing slowed and moved back to normal, he pulled back and looked up at you.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated one more time, but not as wavering as before, “I didn’t think I would… that was unexpected.”

“No, it’s somewhat normal,” you exaggerated slightly, “this kind of thing… it’s taxing, I pushed you to your limits. You were really tough, and it’s all very vulnerable.”

“Thanks,” he sighed, sniffling and wiping his eyes. “And sorry about your ropes,” he smiled as he noticed the frayed ends coming off of where his wrists were still tied.

“Let me help you get those off,” you smiled, loosening the knots and sliding the binds off of him, quickly massaging the places that the rope had constricted. “Blood flow’s okay?”

“Yep,” he nodded.

“You numb anywhere?” you pressed.

“Uh, just my dick. And my brain is all fuzzy…”

You smiled. “Can’t help the first one. Let me get you some water for the second.”

“No!” he yelped suddenly. “Um, don’t go yet, please…”

“Of course,” you smiled. “I’ll untie your ankles, then.”

He still seemed disappointed, as if he expected you to hug him for hours and never move. He let you go this time, though, and loosened his grip so you could slide down to the foot of the bed.

"Was that sort of what you were hoping for when you called me?" you asked as you untied the ropes slowly and took a moment to massage the skin underneath, hoping to restore any lost blood flow.

"So much better than what I was hoping for," he admitted with a breathless chuckle. "You're… really good."

"Well, thank you," you shrugged, "it comes with practice and experience. You held your own, too."

"I wish I could say that was from practice and experience. I didn't want to say anything before but I've, uh, never actually… been to a domme before."

You smiled slightly, coming back up and being pulled into another embrace. "Um, I'll admit I can kind of tell…" you mumbled.

"I'm not supposed to touch you like this," he realized quietly, relaxing his grip on you and pulling back. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's alright, just don't get too comfortable because we only have—" you glanced at the clock— "eight more minutes until you need to leave."

"I'll get up and get dressed soon," he offered with a sigh as you got up and quickly slipped on a robe, grabbing him a damp washcloth for the drying come on his torso.

You tilted your head as you watched him clean up, and you wanted to offer some touch that was a bit less intimate than a hug, so you found yourself blurting out: "do you like having your hair played with?"

"Um, I don't… I don't know," he admitted as he reached up to card his fingers through the hair in question. "No one else has ever really touched my hair before."

"Really?" you laughed, getting back on the bed to sit beside him. "It looks pretty luscious. I figured any girlfriend of yours would want to get her hands on it."

"Oh, well, the last time I had a girlfriend… it wasn't long then," he explained, and you kept on your best poker face. His hair looked like he'd been growing it out for at least two years, unless it grew crazy fast or something. How long had he been single? With a body like that you could barely believe that he was single now.

"Do you mind if I touch it?" you offered quietly, and once he gave you a nod you reached forward and combed your fingers through it, reaching deeper to scratch at his scalp, occasionally pulling the strands lightly into loose braid-like patterns that fell away almost immediately afterwards. He sank into your touch until you found yourself supporting his head against your chest, mindlessly playing with his hair until you noticed his eyes were shut, his breathing was slowed, and his body was limp on top of yours.

He fell asleep.

You laughed silently to yourself, realizing that you couldn't get him off of you without his cooperation since he was so heavy and you had no shot at lifting him. And, of course, his cooperation required his consciousness… which required waking him up.

And, for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to do it. He just looked too peaceful, for a guy who had never seemed truly relaxed around you.

Was there any other way he could relax? Cause it kinda seemed like he really, really needed this. And you were in the business of meeting needs, to say the least.

So, with an apologetic text to your last client of the night that you needed to reschedule, you let James sleep on you as you closed your eyes and drifted off as well.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #sub!bucky barnes x domme!reader

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nikakistos · 4 years ago

Text

The Perfect Closure of EreMika

The title is pure clickbait (as always), there will be lots of tags (as always) and this post will be huge. As always. So, let’s examine and evaluate the perfect conclusion of the most important relationship in Attack on Titan. We will analyze why this is the best conclusion they could have gotten and of course we are going to talk about what their scenes meant for their relationship, their feelings for each other and the themes of the story.

First, let’s ask the question: What was the purpose of this chapter? Ending the fight obviously, but also giving closure to the relationship between Eren and Mikasa. Now, there were 3 questions that needed to be answered in order for the two of them to have closure.

Why did Eren say to Mikasa that he hated her?

What does Eren feel for Mikasa?

What would have happened if Mikasa had given Eren a different answer back in chapter 123?

Isayama answered all 3 of them in a spectacular way. Let’s see how he did it. The chapter literally starts with Isayama, via Mikasa, setting up the closure. This was achieved by having her wonder if this really was the end for her and Eren. Could it be that their last interaction ever ended with him saying that he hated her?

Isayama answers that with a big, fat NO.

That’s the purpose of Mikasa’s vision. Mikasa’s vision is not there to introduce us to Alternate Universes or to portray her as a delusional fangirl that can’t cope with reality. It’s purpose is to answer the above 3 questions. And that it does.

Essentially, Mikasa’s vision is a “What if” scenario. If Mikasa had chosen the ideal for her answer back in chapter 123, Eren would have abandoned everything and lived with her. This means that Eren is also in love with her. He said that he hated Mikasa, because he wanted her to forget him. That’s why he also asked her to throw away the scarf.

Mikasa though, being the truest representation of all major, positive themes in the series says no. She chooses to remember him. That’s essentially the meaning of life. That’s what Armin taught to Zeke back in chapter 137. Memories of everyday life. That’s the meaning of life. Back in Trost, Mikasa said that she couldn’t die, because she wouldn’t be able to remember Eren. Even back then, Mikasa always knew the true meaning of life.

Afterall, the series heavily criticizes the usage of memory manipulation. Deleting memories or altering them have been methods empoyed by the Royal Family for years, hiding the truth from the people. One of the themes of the Survey Corps is remembering their fallen comrades and carrying on the torch. Mikasa forgetting Eren would be an insult to the themes of the story. As would be if Eren was revealed to have been sending fake memories and dreams to Mikasa out of pity for her.

Finally, Mikasa decides to kill Eren. Not because he hated her or because he didn’t have romantic feelings for her. Because she had to save the world and because that’s exactly what Eren wanted. Back in chapter 133 Reiner foreshadowed Eren’s desires. He explained that it is very hard for Eren, mentally, to handle the murder of the entire human race. Through Reiner, Isayama reveals that Eren wants someone to end it all for him. That someone was Mikasa. That’s why Mikasa knew where to find Eren. His relieved face when he saw her swinging the blade said it all. That was Eren’s design and Mikasa delivered.

And so, the chapter that starts with Mikasa thinking that the only closure she would get with Eren was the “I’ve always hated you”, ends with the first and the last kiss between the two of them that puts all of her worries to rest.

Is Mikasa delusional?

I’ve seen this being thrown around, so i have to also tackle said point. No, Mikasa is not delusional. This wasn’t a fantasy that only she experienced. This dream of hers is the same dream that Eren had back in chapter 1. Eren experienced the exact same things she did in the dream. We even see him with his titan marks. It is clear as day that they shared these moments.

Also, i have to give credits to Isayama here for his usage of “itterasshai”. The word generally means “Go and come back safely” and is usually said to people leaving the house. For Mikasa, Eren is her home, but she is also home for him, as shown in the RtS arc:

These were the perfect parting words for the two of them. Nothing else could encapsulate their relationship better. Eren of course, won’t come back, but that’s the irony of the word here.

Moving on to the next point, Mikasa’s characterization in this final arc is about her seeing Eren for the person he truly is and stop ignoring his faults. It starts from the Marley arc and it concludes with chapter 123 where she realizes that this was simply part of Eren’s nature.

He always had it in him to become the monster that he became. However, he always had a different side to him. A side that had been shown to her a few times. At first, when he wrapped the scarf around her and later when he asked her “What am i to you”. Finally, it manifested as a desire to live quietly with her in their shared dream. It would contradict her development and characterization in the final arc, to have Mikasa start seeing an incomplete Eren again, after realizing earlier who he really was. Mikasa understood who Eren truly is and she accepted him and continued to love him anyway, even though she didn’t agree with his genocide.

It is not out of character for Eren to run away with her either. At least not in that instance. The series highlights the moment that he asked Mikasa “What am i to you” as a pivotal one. Sure, under normal circumstances, Eren would have chosen to fight, but we saw him breaking down just moments earlier. The only person that could have saved him was Mikasa. Alas, that wasn’t meant to happen.

In any instance, the biggest indicator that Mikasa is not just a delusional girl who kissed the decapitated head of the man she loved, when he never really loved her in the same way, is Ymir’s face at the end of the chapter.

Ymir, as i have mentioned in previous posts, is a girl who never knew real love during her lifetime. She didn’t understand what she was looking at, when she first say a couple kissing with their friends cheering them on. And after that she was sentenced to a cruel life, with a man who never loved her and only viewed her as a tool. This girl, remembers longinly that scene of the couple kissing for 2000 years. She was waiting for 2000 years to see real love again.

She witnessed that through Eren and Mikasa. In a scene that would have otherwise been painted in a negative light, Ymir’s warm smile at the sight of the final act of love between two people who never got to be together the way they wanted to, clears any and all doubts regarding Eren’s feelings for Mikasa and the latter’s sanity. Eren reciprocates Mikasa’s feelings and he was alive for enough time to kiss her back, before completely fading away. Eren and Mikasa replaced the married couple and Ymir replaced the crowd that was cheering at them from 2000 years ago.

Of course, one might ask, could Eren really kiss her? Didn’t she just take advantage of him? No, he did kiss her. The way the scene was directed, it shows us that the events, which take place in their dream, mirror the events in real life. Just look at Eren’s lips one moment before Mikasa kissed him and compare them to the picture above, where they kiss. They are different.

Also, you have to remeber that decapitation doesn’t kill immediately and does not immobilize facial muscles. That was the entire reason that Eren and Zeke managed to get the Coordinate. Eren survived long enough from Gabi’s shot to make contact with Zeke. Even his facial expression changes as you can see below:

More importantly, was there really any chance that Ymir would look at Mikasa beheading and kissing Eren, while also smiling in approval, if Mikasa was a delusional girl who was unable to understand Eren’s feelings for her up to the very end? Most of all, do you think she would have allowed him to die, without experiencing real love? She died in such a way and she stayed for 2000 years in the Paths waiting for someone to show her real love. Eren was her benefactor. Would she ever allow him to die in such a way, when she was being mistreated (sexually and in many other ways) by King Fritz? I doubt it. Actually no. I don’t doubt it. I’m sure this is not the way we are meant to interprete the scene.

Eren’s relationship with Mikasa, from the very start, is an allegory for the world of AoT. The world is cruel, but is also very beautiful. Eren’s story with Mikasa starts with him murdering in cold blood her kidnappers (cruelty) and then warmly and gently welcoming her to his family by wrapping a scarf around her (beauty). Their story ends with Mikasa decapitating him (cruelty) and kissing him (beauty).

Eren’s tendency for violence has always been portrayed as going hand in hand with his better side. That side has always been represented by Mikasa. It is only fitting for them to have their most beautiful moment happening almost at the same time as their most cruel one. This is how Isayama juxtaposes this duality:

If we interprete this scene as Mikasa being delusional and Eren not being in love with her we get a very disturbing and creepy scene, between an obsessed, psychosis-suffering girl who can’t understand the feelings of Eren, a genocidal maniac who never had any chance or willingness to live a normal life, even though there are hints of that, and a 2000 year old ghost who just happily smiled at the decapitation and forceful kissing of her emancipator. I am pretty sure this is not the message Isayama wants to send. Not simply, because it is a disservice to Mikasa as a character and to her relationship with Eren, which has been one of the most prominent and consistent part of the series from the very first chapter, but because it is also a huge disrespect to Eren as a character as well. Does anyone really think that Isayama would choose to write Eren’s death like that? Not a single important person in the entire story has gotten such an exit. Not even Floch. Even Zeke, who thought that his father never loved him and only used him as a tool, got to see that his father truly did love him, before finally dying. Of course Eren and Mikasa would get the same treatment.

What i mean to say is that Eren and Mikasa’s closure won’t be recontextualized in a way that will paint their feelings for one another and their relationship in a negative light. If anyone’s expecting that, he/she will be disappointed. Eren and Mikasa were confirmed as a canonical couple in chapter 138.

On the other hand, if anyone’s expecting that this wasn’t their real closure and that they will get an even happier ending, he/she is also coping hard. Eren died here in this chapter. There won’t be a scarf rewrap (i’m here to eat my words if it happens), because Isayama gave the couple a kiss. A kiss that was in the makings ever since chapter 50 dropped. And of course, there is not going to be a baby born to Eren and Mikasa. Like, no way it’s happening. Eren is not coming back to life as that would turnish the series and it’s ending.

In conclusion, Eren’s relationship with Mikasa ended in the same way it started. Violently and Beautifully. Tragically and Happily. They acted on their romantic feelings for each other the very moment they had to part ways forever. This is how Isayama hurts us. The essence of a bittersweet conclusion.

EDIT: EATING MY WORDS AS PROMISED. EREN DID REWRAP MIKASA’S SCARF. HE KEPT HIS PROMISE.

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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

Note

hi! if requests are open for bucky, i like the concept of him being unsure of himself with reader (not a superhero/avenger, maybe just a mutual friend) and pining after them compared to how easy it was to get dates in the 40s. thank you!

tfatws revived my love for bucky im not ashamed

A/N: tfatws has definitely done the same for me! no shame whatsoever!

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: none

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

You tore your gaze off of the television before you turned to look at Bucky. His blue eyed stare was trained on you, intense and unwavering. Sometimes it had managed to unnerve you, but you’d gotten used to it over the year you’d known him. He was more than just silent...he was calculating, but it never felt wrong. Waving your hand in front of his face you made a small sound to get his attention.

“Bucky?” you whispered his name softly and that seemed to snap him back into attention as he opened and closed his mouth a few times. Even in the dim lighting of the room you could see that a warm flush of red had crept up in his cheeks, “everything alright?”

“Y-yeah,” he shook his head, more at himself than anything else, a self-annoyed look crossing his features, “spaced out for a minute. What were you saying?”

“I wasn’t saying anything,” you couldn’t help but laugh at him, watching his features soften when he realized you weren’t going to chastise him for zoning out, “I for one was watching the movie, which is more than I can say for you - you should love the Hobbit if you actually read the book when it first came out. And these movies are actually good. Pay attention, Bucky!”

You grabbed one of the pillows off of your couch and lobbed it at his head; but he was quicker, reflexes still sharp and honed after all this time. The corners of his mouth pulled into a smirk as he held the pillow before determining whether or not to throw it back at you. Immediately sensing what he was doing, you shook your head and jumped up, ducking behind the couch.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart, why are you hiding?” you could practically hear the smirk in his voice as you peeked up at him. The nickname rolled easily off his tongue as it caused a shudder to run down your spine. You knew it meant nothing, that it was just something he tended to call people; it was definitely just a thing. It was nothing particularly about you or targeted at you but you couldn’t help but pause. You knew that you wouldn’t have minded if he called you that intentionally. But that could never, ever happen. This was Bucky after all and you were just...you.

“I know your game, Barnes,” you grinned at him, deciding to let the nickname slide, “I’ll call it a truce and we can go to your favorite place to get some dinner. I’ll pay! I’m waving my proverbial white flag.”

“Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse,” he set the pillow back down on the couch as he stood up and raised his hands in surrender. Slowly you raised to your full height, but kept a wary eye on your best friend, “I keep my promises, you know that.”

“Fine,” you agreed as you grinned at him. Bucky’s breath hitched in his throat as he looked you over and he felt his knees go weak momentarily. He could stare at your smile for hours, “get your jacket and let’s go old man.”

He scoffed in jest as you grabbed your shoulders and jacket off the coat rock and motioned for him to follow, “I’m not that old-”

“106? Isn’t that old?” you raised an eyebrow, barely able to contain your giggles as he rolled his eyes dramatically, “just kidding, Bucky. You know I just love teasing you.”

“I am in my 30s,..technically, thank you very much,” he insisted as he slipped on his shoes and you handed him the leather jacket, “don’t push your luck, kid.”

“See,” you grabbed the keys and he opened the door, ushering you out with a hand on the small of your back, “I swear Bucky Barnes, you’ve been an old man since you were a kid. Now let’s go! There’s pancakes with my name on them waiting.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Dinner with Bucky was easy...then again, everything with Bucky was easy. Every time you were with him, things just felt natural and normal, conversation and everything flowed freely. You’d met Bucky completely by chance, running into him, quite literally, on the street as you walked out of your favorite coffee shop and proceeded to spill coffee over both of you. He’d been apologetic, claiming it was his fault, but you’d been insistent that it was yours. One thing had led to another and soon enough you became inseparable friends.

Much to his surprise, and delight, you’d never treated Bucky as anything but...Bucky. That’s how you’d met him and that’s all he was to you. Bucky. Of course, he was much more than a friend, at least in your mind, but you weren’t about to divulge that little piece of information. At least not yet. Maybe one day...or not. Probably not. No. You weren’t about to make a fool out of yourself and confess your feelings for a man that saw you as nothing but a friend.

Bucky, always alert and cunning, had noticed you’d become quiet throughout dinner as you both ate in silence. Normally he wouldn’t question it, but he knew your tells and could easily read you by this point and knew that something was up.

“What?” he gently nudged your foot with his and you snapped back into attention as you looked at him, “you’re awfully deep in thought for someone that just wanted some pancakes.”

“It’s nothing,” you insisted nervously, swallowing your bite down and clearing your throat, “just...tired?”

“Mhmm,” he wasn’t going to push you, know you’d come around eventually, “whatever you say, sweetheart.”

There it was again, and you felt a warmth flush over your face as you focused your attention on the syrupy mess on your plate. It was silent for a few more minutes before you noticed a few women sitting at the diner’s counter, giggling among themselves as they cast longing glances at Bucky. Something in your stomach twisted and your heart constricted. Of course they were looking at him, women often did. And you couldn’t blame them; Bucky was handsome in almost every way, and you yearned after him as well. But unlike most other people, you weren’t about to be so obvious about it.

“Looks like you have a little fanclub,” you murmured softly under your breath as you lightly motioned towards them women. Bucky slyly followed your gaze and studied the newcomers and huffed in annoyance. He abhorred any sort of extra attention, especially when it came from people that only liked him because of his looks. Besides that, it often didn’t last terribly long; usually people realized who he was - used to be - and that scared them right off.

“They’ll leave soon enough,” he shrugged them off before turning his attention back to you, “besides, I-I’m not interested. It’s not like it used to be…”

“Back when?” you quickly snorted in amusement as he jokingly glared at you, “back in your day? I bet you had them all over you then too.”

“Well, it certainly was easier,” he admitted as he played with the straw in his almost empty milkshake, “nowadays people are harder to read. They all either want one thing, or they just stick around until they find someone else. It’s not worth it...and honestly, now one has caught my eye.”

“No one?” you asked as you pushed your last bite around the plate, letting the fluffy pancake soak up the syrup, “I find that hard to believe, even for you, Buck. Everyone has someone they’re interested in.”

“Huh,” he mused as drained the last of the milkshake, “well then, is there someone that has captured your interest?”

“I...no, not really,” you lied, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on the lie. Instead he immediately made a sound of small disbelief; you should haven’t even bothered to try and lie to him. He could see right through you, “there’s nobody.”

“I thought you said everyone has someone that they’re interested in?” oh yeah, he definitely wasn’t going to let this go at all.

“Except me.”

“I find that doubtful.”

“What about you then, Bucky Barnes?” you decided to deflect by throwing the question right back at him, “has anyone captured your interest?”

Bucky paused for a moment, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he mulled over his next words carefully, “yes. There is someone.”

“O-oh,” you stammered as his gaze shifted back to you, blue eyes keenly studied your features, “you gonna tell me who it is?”

“Well,” he started slowly, tapping his fingers on the table as he leaned towards, "there is someone, but I don't know if she knows or thinks of me as more than a friend, but god, I hope she does. She's been my friend for a while now and I kind of want to ask her on a date, a proper date, but don't quite know how."

"Do you...do you think she could feel the same about you?" butterflies erupted in your stomach as you tried to calm the rapid beating of your heart. Surely he couldn't mean you. But then...why was a light flush of pink in his cheeks? Why was he watching you so intently?

"I don't know," he confessed with a light shrug as he sat back in the booth, an arm extended over the back, the picture of ease, "sometimes I think she might, but I don't want to think she does and mess anything up. I'd rather keep her as a friend than lose her."

"I guess you won't know unless you ask her…" you were positive that he could hear your heart beating rapidly, "you never know until you try. I have a feeling she won't turn you down if you ask...just a hunch…"

"Hmm…" a smile, dazzling and brilliant, grazed his features, "well then sweet-"

"Excuse me," one of the girls from the counter had approached your table and was leaning into Bucky, with her back to you. She was twirling her hair around her finger as she offered him her most dazzling smile. She was definitely beautiful and you really had nothing to base your annoyance off of, but she rubbed you the wrong way, "I was just wondering if you'd-"

"Hi, excuse me?" you couldn't help yourself as you gently tapped her arm. Bucky raised an eyebrow as she gave her a surprised look on her face, "I don't want to interrupt but he's mine. And if you don't mind...we're on a date."

"O-oh," her eyes widened as she looked between you and Bucky, who was currently sporting the most shit eating grin, "I didn't know. Sorry…"

She scurried back to her friends as you looked back down at your plate. Bucky cleared his throat as he leaned in, hardly believing what had happened. You could feel his curious blue eyes on you, searing and questioning.

"So she feels the same way or she's a good liar," he said softly as you chanced a glance, biting on your lip, "I'm yours, huh?"

"Shut up," you groaned, "it was to get her away from you, so you're welcome."

"Mhmm…" god that smile made you want to melt.

"Bucky!"

"Thank you," he bowed his head slightly, "what are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Nothing...why?"

"Can I take you on a date?" he asked as you looked at him in surprise, wide doe eyes meeting his, "a proper date?"

"I...yeah, Bucky. I'd like that a lot," you agreed softly, "see...I told you she won't turn you down."

"Guess you were right," he was causal, but inside his heart was fit to burst as he reached across the table and gently put his hand on top of yours, "I'm already hers, but she's my girl too."

Yeah. You could definitely get used to that.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x reader #tfatws #bb imagine

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mochegato · 3 years ago

Text

Even the Losers

Chapter 11

Chapter 1 Chapter 10

“What do you mean he knew?” Dick asked, taking a seat in the chair across from Bruce. He looked around for Alfred to make sure he wasn’t going to lecture them for talking about bat business in the manor when Bruce’s newest daughter could walk in on them at any moment.

Dick scrunched his face in thought. That wasn’t right was it? She wasn’t his newest daughter. She was his oldest child. Well, not oldest. He was the oldest. But she was the one he had the longest. He had her before he took in Dick. He’d given her up and then taken Dick in soon after and honestly Dick wasn’t sure how to reconcile that. He was eternally grateful that Bruce had taken him in and helped him, dealt with his rebellions and helped him focus his anger. But if he’d had such patience for him, why not his own daughter?

Dick was forced off of his thought process by Bruce, bringing them back to the topic at hand. “He knew we were going there somehow. He just thought it was earlier than we had planned.” Bruce sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “He was wandering through the museum looking for us, or more specifically, her.”

Tim stared at the coffee table in front of him trying to work out how the Penguin could have known. “Did you talk about it? Somewhere that could have been bugged?”

Bruce shook his head. “I didn’t really have time to. It was all last minute. But I don’t know about Marinette.”

“When did you plan it? Was it in your schedule?” Tim pressed. “Because if there is a leak at WE with high enough permissions to have access to your calendar, that is a big problem.” His eyes widened immediately. “Not that a rogue going after Marinette isn’t! It’s just another problem.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t say anything about it. “Dinner…” he sighed deeply in realization. “The waitress. Right. We’ll have to talk to her tomorrow.”

“You think she sold information?” Duke asked.

“Or she told someone who sold it, or someone overheard her gossiping, or…” Damian listed off in a condescending tone.

“Are you going to warn Marinette?” Duke interrupted, his brow furrowing in concern. They should have anticipated this. They’d taken precautions for him after the official announcement of his new status, but they hadn’t moved to protect her yet.

Bruce nodded. “I’ll talk to her about expectations of being my daughter. So far, this is fairly expected. I don’t want to send her into a panic, but she should know the dangers she’s going to have to face now.” He sighed guiltily and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was exactly what he had been trying to protect her from all those years ago. And the idea that one of the rogues might have taken his child to get back at him, a baby who had no chance of protecting herself, still haunted him.

Cass frowned at him. “Not safe,” she chastised.

“I’m not saying we don’t protect her too. I think it would be a good idea to make sure we can keep an eye on her and be able to track her so we know if she’s been taken or involved in a rogue attack. I’ll talk to her about safety precautions, so she isn’t announcing plans where others can hear her. She’s planning on moving into the apartment with her friends soon, so that should help at night.”

“Good,” Dick agreed. “From what Jason said about the other day and the concierge just letting it happen, the sooner we get her out of that hotel the better.”

“What do we know about her ability to defend herself?” Tim asked.

“According to her mother, none. She’s never had training. Never had to defend herself,” Bruce sighed. That was exactly the upbringing he wanted for her, to never need to defend herself. But now, that was biting them in the ass. Because now, she might need to be able to defend herself and couldn’t.

Damian scoffed. “She’s weak and defenseless, is what you mean. We’re going to have to spend our time and our energy protecting her because she isn’t capable of it.”

“She’s innocent,” Bruce corrected. “That was the entire point of sending her away, so she could be. And that’s supposed to be our entire job, protecting the innocent. She is no exception.” They all froze when the door to the sitting room cracked open.

<><><><><>

Marinette took a calming breath. Driving up to the manor had been impressive, entering the manor had been even more so. The entire place was dripping with history and prestige. All the touches looked highest class, highest quality, all well thought out and coordinated over years of design, speaking of bespoke everything. It was about as far from what Marinette grew up in as there could be. It was somber and distant. Sterile even in its lavish details.

And yet, it wasn’t the imposing design that had her heart racing. She could hear voices echoing through the empty halls. She couldn’t make out anything being said, only the variations in baritones and tenor pitches to them.

“Relax, Pixie. They’re going to love you. You could tell them to fuck off,” he took a quick look around when he said it before relaxing back into his motivational speech. “And you’d still come out as someone else’s favorite too. There’s nobody in there you need to impress.” He patted her on the back and squeezed her shoulder. “Just maybe stay away from Damian. He’s a spiteful little shit. Better than he was when he came but… just to be safe…”

He took off his jacket and motioned to hers. “Also,” he continued as he took her jacket, “don’t say the word ‘pineapple’.”

Marinette laughed and shoved him. “Stop messing with me. I’m nervous enough already.” Jason looked at her suddenly very serious. Marinette faltered for a second before scoffing. “Shut up.”

“I’m telling you, just don’t say it.”

She rolled her eyes. This had to be one of the most ridiculous conversations ever. “Okay, first, I still don’t believe you. Second, why would I?”

Jason shook his head and backed away. “I don’t know. It always manages to come up though.” He pointed at her as he backed out of the room. “Fight the temptation. I’m going to hang these up. They’re in that room.” He motioned vaguely toward a room down the hall, which considering how many rooms were down the hall wasn’t actually all that helpful. “Go ahead, they’re expecting us.”

“You’re kind of an asshole, you know that,” she called after him.

“Only kind of? You might like me more than the rest,” he called back with a laugh.

Marinette shook her head and started down the hallway. It couldn’t be that hard to find, right. There had to be signs. “What do you think, Tikki?” she whispered almost too quiet for anyone to hear.

“Jason’s right,” she assured Marinette just as quietly. “They’ll love you. Just be yourself. It’s the next door on the left.”

Marinette grinned at her and noted the light under the door. Definitely the right door. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Wish me luck.” She took another breath and bolstered herself for the next few hours. Hopefully it would go amazingly, but even if it didn’t, she could withstand a few hours of awkward, uncomfortable conversation and looks. She survived all the Graham de Vanily parties Adrien dragged her to, she could survive this. She nodded to herself, silently cursed Jason for abandoning her, and pushed open the door.

The room immediately quieted as Marinette walked in. Everyone turned to her as a unit, tight anxious smiles on their lips. Marinette froze and tried to smile politely at them, but she was pretty sure it looked more frightened than polite. The people in the room continued to stare at her almost analytically. The intensity of the stares was unnerving and unsettling. She almost backed out of the room until she felt someone step up next to her and sling their arm over her shoulder. She looked up hesitantly but breathed out a sigh of relief when she saw Jason next to her.

“Stop being weird. You’re creeping her out,” Jason barked at them.

Jason’s order seemed to break them out of their trance. Everyone moved at once, jumping up to welcome her or moving rapidly towards her to shake her hand, except for the youngest who frowned and crossed his arms and a woman, who must be Cass, Marinette reasoned, who just waved from her spot next to Bruce. Marinette tensed up but didn’t back away, instead bracing herself for the onslaught. The noise became almost overwhelming as multiple people were speaking at once and Jason shouted back, pulling Marinette away from them.

“Enough!” Bruce yelled, instantly silencing everyone in the room. He turned to Marinette with a warm smile. “Sorry about that. I was hoping for a more welcoming introduction, but with this family…” he motioned to the rest of the room with a defeated sigh.

He crossed the room to her quickly but froze when he got to her, uncertain what form of physical welcome was allowed. A handshake seemed too formal and distant, but a hug seemed too personal for only their second meeting in twenty years, well, technically fourth, but the first two didn’t exactly count. On the other hand, last time they did la bise, so that was more appropriate, right? He decided to leave it to Marinette, but she didn’t seem any more certain than he did, judging by her awkward wave and quick looks to his hand and cheek.

He smiled in response. They’d figure it out eventually, hopefully. For now, he just needed to make sure she felt welcome. He opened his mouth to welcome her to the manor and start introductions but got cut off by a very excited Dick.

“Oh wow, I didn’t realize how much she looks like your mother until now.” Dick moved right in front of Marinette examining every centimeter of her face intensely. “Her eyes look just like hers. They could be twins. Do you have any pictures of her when she was a baby so we can compare?”

Marinette’s face went blank as she stared back at Dick. She quirked her head to the side trying to figure out how to respond to that, or if she was even supposed to, considering despite the fact that his face was only a handful of centimeters from hers, he wasn’t talking to her. Her quandary was answered when Jason shoved Dick away harshly. “She has a name, Dickweed,” Jason growled. “And she’s right the fuck in front of you, have some respect.”

“Language Master Jason,” Alfred admonished coming into the room. “But he is correct, Master Dick.”

“Right,” Dick said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, Marinette. That was rude. Hi, I’m Dick.” He held his hand out for Marinette.

Marinette shook it with a smile. “It’s okay. I’ve always wondered where I got my blue eyes from.” She chuckled a little nervously and shrugged. “Mystery solved, I guess.”

Bruce laid a hand on her shoulder, drawing her attention back to him. “I can show you pictures later, if you’d like to see, or whenever you’re ready.” He pulled his hand away and shoved it into his pocket awkwardly. “Or, at some point I, or somebody else can give you a tour of the manor and I’m sure you’ll see lots of pictures of,” he paused only a fraction of a second, uncertain how she would take the term, “your grandparents.”

Marinette swallowed almost imperceptibly, but covered with a smile. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

The pause she took to respond would be missed by most people but a room full of people trained to detect tells like that didn’t miss it. Duke jumped up with a big smile. “Hi,” he shot out his hand to shake hers, “I’m Duke. It’s nice to meet you.”

Marinette smiled back at him and shook his hand. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you. Sorry for ruining your introduction gala.”

Duke scoffed. “Are you kidding me? I hate attention. Thank you for taking the attention off of me.” He suddenly cringed realizing what he was saying. “I mean… That’s not what I meant. Sorry it had to land solely on you. Want me to do something stupid to get the attention back?”

Marinette laughed at his attempt to cover. For once it wasn’t her saying the wrong thing with the best intention. “No, please don’t and don’t worry,” she waved him off with a smile, “I knew what you meant. Not your fault. Honestly, not as bad as it could have been. I’ve dealt with worse.”

“You have?” Jason asked, his face scrunching in concern.

Marinette shrugged at him and turned back to Duke. “Glad I was at least able to help a bit.”

Duke grinned at her. “You did. You’re already more helpful than most of them,” he motioned toward the rest of the family. “Definite contender for new favorite sibling.” Dick let out an exaggeratedly loud offended scoff while Cass shrugged and bobbed her head in agreement. Tim furrowed his brow and exclaimed, “Hey!” But the corner of his lips quirking up betrayed his act.

Jason glowered at Duke and stepped between them. “Back off! I already claimed her.” He turned back to Marinette. “Now what is this about you’ve dealt with worse? Is there someone I need to have a talk with?”

“I’m sorry for being rude,” Bruce interrupted before the conversation went down a darker path than he was hoping for this meeting. “Welcome to the manor, Marinette. Thank you for coming. You’ve already met Jason, Dick, and Duke. That is Tim,” he motioned to the teen on the couch who waved politely but awkwardly. His eyes only flicked to hers a few times and only for a fraction of a second before flicking away, a pained look shooting through them.

“Next to him is Damian.” He rolled his eyes and looked away, but didn’t attack like both Roy and Jason warned her he might, so she was taking it as a win. “Cass is there,” he motioned toward Cass, who waved again, just as kindly as the first time. “And this is Alfred.”

Alfred stepped forward and bowed slightly to Marinette. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Marinette.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes at him as she scrutinized his face. “You look familiar.”

Alfred’s eyes sparkled at her recognition. He started to say something, but whatever it was got lost when Dick interrupted. “Wait!” He jumped in Alfred’s face. “Is this why you took all your vacations in Paris?” he exclaimed. His eyes widening in realization.

“It is indeed, Master Dick,” Alfred nodded.

“That’s why you look familiar!” Marinette exclaimed. “You were a repeat customer in the patisserie.”

“I am very happy to see you back in the manor, Miss Marinette,” Alfred gave her a curt nod as a smile played on the corners of his lips.

Marinette tensed at the reminder that she may have at some point have been in the manor. It ripped open a Pandora’s Box of questions, each one more unsettling than the last. Had she been in the manor before? Had she interacted with her f… M. Wayne when she was a baby? Did he hold her? Did he kiss her head? Did he hold her for a few minutes and hand her back like she did to Jamil’s baby, feeling no more connection than she had to Remi? Did he cuddle her to his chest and hold her close only to hand her back and walk away? Did he feel nothing when he held her? Did his chest feel less tight when she was no longer near him? Did he heave a sigh of relief when he handed her back?

No. She had to stop focusing on those questions. That was the past. Nothing would be gained from asking those questions tonight. He wasn’t ready to give an answer and she wasn’t ready to receive it. He’d apologized and she’d accepted. She would just… let the questions plague her and slowly drive her into insanity. That was the plan. She quickly plastered on a smile and nodded back at Alfred. “It is good to see you again, M. Pennyworth.”

“Please, call me Alfred,” he said, his amused smile turning sympathetic seeing the change in her demeanor. “All the children do.”

Marinette smiled back, her smile more strained than before. Was she one of the children? She guessed technically she was. “Only if you call me Marinette.”

“Of course, Miss Marinette,” Alfred nodded.

Marinette raised an eyebrow but nodded back. She understood deeply ingrained British upper class formality. She hadn’t survived parties with Felix and Adrien for nothing. But if he wanted to embrace the detached formality, so would she. “Thank you, M. Pennyworth.”

Alfred raised an eyebrow but said nothing. “Maybe we could plan for a tour of the manor and a look through photo albums at a later time. For now, dinner is ready.”

At Alfred’s pronouncement, everyone started moving out of the room. Marinette watched them all making their way toward what must be the dining room, but didn’t move herself. It still felt awkward to walk around the manor… again, apparently. She didn’t move until Jason threw his arm over her shoulder and gently prodded her forward. She gave him a small smile and threw her arm around his waist.

She looked past him to give Tim who had also hung back a bit, a small smile. He gave her a guilty smile back and a little wave. Marinette gave him a quizzical look, trying to figure out what he had to feel guilty about. But it looked like he didn’t want to get too close with Jason at her side. And as much as she wanted to ask what Tim was thinking about, she was beyond grateful that Jason had taken up post at her side. She didn’t know if she would have been able to make it through this without him. She squeezed his waist and looked up at him with a smile. He looked down with a questioning look that quickly turned into a smile and he squeezed back.

Chapter 12

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@maribat-bdbwm @jayjayspixiepop @redscarlet95 @alice-hazelwood @deathssilentapproach-blog @unoriginalmess @alyssadeliv @emotionalsupportginger @frieddonutsweets @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @toodaloo-kangaroo @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @iloontjeboontje @wolf-for-life @maribatserver @aespades @prettylittlebutterflie @imarivers8 @ certainmuffinbagelcalzone @ritacrow-blog @unoriginalmess @demonicbusiness @kking13 @lady-bee-fechin @blur-of-colours @kittenmywaythrulife @kashlyn @loysydark

#maribat #bio!dad bruce #bio dad bruce wayne #roynette #Even the Losers #mbdbwm2021 #prompt - twins

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

Text

Here to Misbehave (Finale | S.R.)

Summary: It’s Halloween, and there are a lot of things on Spencer’s mind.

A/N: Here it is, everyone: the end of the story. Thank you so much to everyone who’s read this far. I greatly appreciate all of you, and I hope you enjoy it! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Fluff/Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Penetrative sex, light D/s, mostly fluff! Word Count: 7.5k

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Autumn has widely been considered the season of change. It is an understandable characterization; from the shifting hues of the leaves to the wildly fluctuating temperatures, few things stayed consistent in the fall. Perhaps that’s why someone who loathes change, someone like me, finds the season so thrilling.

It’s like the Earth and the Sun made a pact to make changes more predictable in their own unique, chaotic way. The breeze becomes biting and the days become shorter, but for these downfalls, we are granted a beauty and calmness that can’t be rivaled by any other season.

But she wasn’t a season, and when it came to my attention and appreciation, there were few choices that were easier to make.

“Spencer. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

(Y/n)’s face was half covered by the cup she held tightly with both hands, but I could picture the hidden expression perfectly, regardless.

“What? We don’t have to agree on everything.”

The truce was received poorly, her response a heavy scoff and a shake of her head. I tried to follow along with her suddenly heated words but couldn’t contain the stars in my eyes that often accompanied my daydreams. If she did notice, she stubbornly ignored the adoration to continue, “I understand you’re a genius or whatever, but I think your opinions on cider and cocoa are... wrong. They are wrong.”

It was my turn to feign displeasure (I hoped hers wasn’t real, anyway), clutching tighter to my own drink that I found myself defending on a park bench with dozens of strangers as an audience.

“An opinion can’t be wrong!” I chirped, only hating the way my voice jumped a little bit. After all, it was hard to hate it when it made her giggle. But despite how much sweeter the liquid seemed when I drank it in the presence of her smile, I also knew that she wouldn’t appreciate my immediate agreement. So, I pushed back just a little, “It can be misguided or ignorant but not outright wrong.”

“Unless it’s yours, on this topic,” she shot back without hesitation.

I tried to flash her a pout, hoping that maybe it would work for me like it did for her. It did not. Her eyebrows shot up and her jaw dropped open with another laugh, and I decided that I preferred that outcome, anyway. The longer my bottom lip stuck out, the wider her smile got. I waited to stop until her eyes closed and turned away, just long enough for me to let the full force of my affection show before she noticed.

She saw it, anyway, in the form of a similar smile spread over my face when I softly admitted, “Fine. You’re right.”

“Oh, I know.”

Her tongue peeked between her lips, and I found myself thinking less of cider and cocoa and more about how unbelievably lucky I was to find someone that I never felt the need to prove anything to. A person that didn’t care if I held all the answers.

I might’ve continued down that sappy train of thought, but it was hard to do while she had hoisted herself halfway over the table to try and grab hold of my cup right as I went to drink from it. Of course, she had failed to take into account just how big the table was, and just how close I was willing to come to falling before I let her drink from my cup right after she’d criticized my preference of fall flavors.

For a second, I really thought she might climb onto the table to win, but the judgmental looks from the parents in the park must have beaten her desire to win. As forlorn as humanly possible, she fell back into her seat with a loud “Hmph!” which really only managed to elicit an equally immature giggle from me.

“Shut up,” she laughed before shoving my paper plate further into my chest, “And eat your stupid pie.”

All I could think as she grabbed my fork and stabbed the middle of the piece to try to lift the entire thing at once, was that I was right about one thing: Autumn, in all its vitality and beauty, could still never compare to her.

That thought persisted through the pumpkin patch, growing in intensity as she skipped through the vine-laden path like a regular fall fairy. It was much easier to get lost in her there, crouched and inspecting foliage. Her arguments regarding gourds were much less spirited, with her watching me wide-eyed and curious as I explained the stages of pumpkin growth and all the different uses for the fruit.

I still let her make the final choices, opting to analyze her selections and tease her for them later, instead. That was the plan, anyway, to continue the competitiveness lest she gets bored with me before the day was over. When she walked past me holding open the passenger side door, I thought it might’ve already happened.

But then she just placed the pumpkin into my hands so she could open the back door. Before I could even move, she carefully removed it from my arms again and placed it in the seat.

“What are you doing?” I said through a very amused chuckle.

She was decidedly not entertained by my confusion, stopping to turn to me with a bored, frustrated expression. “I’m buckling him in,” she explained slowly, like I might need the help. Then, to add insult to silly injury, she added, “Duh.”

I was too distracted by the details to tackle the absurdity of it all.

“Him? It’s a boy pumpkin?”

“Obviously. Look at him,” she snorted, finally clicking the seatbelt in before tenderly petting the top of the lucky little gourd. Once she was convinced it would be as safe as she could make it, she allowed me to begin to escort her into her proper seat.

“You know it’s safer on the floor, right?” I asked before she’d slipped past me. I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her away from the car so I could enjoy the warmth of her before it was replaced with the dry air of the engine.

“How dare you,” she balked with an open mouth that was just begging to be kissed. By the time I got close enough to try, though, her hand fervently shoved my cheek away. I tried to laugh, but she used the same hand to cover the noise, trying and failing to convince me she was being serious.

“Why don’t you just hold him?” I mumbled against her palm.

That was enough for her to abandon my embrace altogether. With a scoff and a roll of her eyes, she pried my arms off of her and finally made her way to my passenger seat. I didn’t fight her too hard, even taking the time to shut her door like my mother always insisted.

The mercy was not returned, with her eyes narrowed into a playful disbelieving glare that I hadn’t seen in some time. My mind was brought back to the first time she ever let me know she was jealous, bickering over blondes and preferences while she sat in the very same place. And, just as before, she was still wearing the same raggedy old sweatshirt of mine.

“If this is any indication of how you’ll be with a human baby, I have dramatically overestimated your competence,” she droned, obviously unaffected by the stars that appeared in my eyes every time I looked at her.

“The one and only time you’ll ever be able to say those words. I hope you enjoyed it,” I joked. A funny enough joke that she couldn’t help but smile through her facade.

“Don’t worry,” she chuckled, “I did.”

The day could have ended there, and it would have been enough. Honestly, I couldn’t think of a single thing that wouldn’t be better with her there. In a way, I think we were trying to prolong the high of ‘hooky,’ finding even the faintest interest in an activity as enough of an excuse for a detour.

… Which was probably how we found ourselves in our third park of the day. After all, I loved any autumnal vision, so how could I decline an opportunity to let them serve as a backdrop for watching her? And that was an accurate description of how I spent the day. It might sound boring, and if it were anyone else, it probably would have been. But no matter how often I saw her, I found myself learning new things about her every single time. Each freckle and scar became a part of the high-definition collection of memories that I would never let myself forget. The most beautiful images that kept me sane in the face of evil and filth.

“Do you see that?”

For a moment, I thought she might have read my mind. But then I realized that her eyes were still fixed forward, stuck on the horizon ahead of us.

“See what?”

“That,” she pointed, “Right there.”

My eyes followed the line, finding nothing but an area of carefully manicured, yellow grass and trees already set to rest for the season. It must have been clear to her that I was lost, because her pointing became more animated and her voice rose as she shouted, “Right there!”

“The giant pile of leaves?”

“Uh-huh.”

Then, in all of my obliviousness, I just sort of stared. Even when her hand grew tighter around mine and her feet started to move faster, I didn’t put two and two together until it was too late.

“What about— No! (Y/n)!” I shouted, cutting off my own train of thought and only barely letting go of her in time to watch her jump straight into the collection of fallen foliage that some poor landscaper had obviously worked hard to gather.

I have to believe that even if that unlucky, underappreciated individual saw what she’d done to their hours of work, that they would forgive her. It was hard to feel anything but joy at the sounds that came from the pile. Yet I approached her cautiously, with both hands in my pockets to avoid the urge to throw myself into danger with her.

“You’re a terror,” I said, settling for a crouched position in front of her. Still able to see her but far enough from her grasp that she had to crawl through a wall of leaves to come nose to nose with me. “This is literally the scariest thing you’ve done all season.”

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” she purred.

As enticing as the offer was, my mind was too preoccupied with statistics of spider and snake bites, not to mention the possibility of ticks still scouring the landscape for any last second hosts. The answer was easy.

“Absolutely not.”

With another exhale of pure displeasure, she threw her body back into the leaves, burying herself into a mess of yellows and reds that somehow only made her look even more beautiful. The chaotic scene matched her energy well, and the harm she was doing was minimal considering I was absolutely going to search every inch of skin for any marks later.

The only thing that was more appealing to me than watching her make an absolute fool out of herself in a pile of leaves was the intense urge to tease her about it. So, taking a regrettable seat on the grass, I sighed, “I think I’m going to have to arrest you for trespassing.”

There was a loud gasp from the center of the pile, followed by a scuffle of flailing limbs among the foliage.

“You don’t own this leaf pile! I do! I am queen of the leaf pile!” she screeched.

“Alright Princess,” I subtly corrected, “whatever you say.”

As promised, I didn’t put up a fight. Even when she finally got a hold of my hands and dragged me into the madness with her. I followed her no matter what nonsense she demanded, just as she had with me so many times. Granted, my desires weren’t nearly as dangerous or strange. They were pretty much just a collection of foreign films and reading that always lulled her to sleep.

But that day there was no sign of her energy waning. The early sun faded and we kept going. I’m not sure how, but she managed to enjoy herself in the D.C. landscape of bars and blaring car horns despite not being able to indulge in anything herself. Although she did half-heartedly attempt to trick me into buying her drinks in several different establishments, I think she was honestly proud that I avoided the drinks altogether. It was a nice reminder that sobriety could be something enjoyed between the two of us, regardless of the environment. However, we didn’t let that stop us from jumping into a crowd of very drunk women who had insisted we join their haunted tour of the city.

“Are you scared?” she whispered into my ear. The feeling of her warm breath against my skin caused a shiver to run down my spine, ruining any credibility I had in my response.

“No. Why would I be scared? It’s just history.”

“Are you sure?” she asked again.

“Yes!” I insisted with the worst possible timing. Because just as soon as the word had left my lips, I felt the distinct sensation of fingers running down my neck and arm opposite to her. I was so convinced that’s what it was that I even spun around with a yelp, crashing into at least three different people just to find a very startled woman with the worst hung scarf I’d ever seen.

(Y/n) had already put two and two together and was lost in an absolute fit of laughter. There were already tears forming in the corners of her eyes as she doubled over, barely able to stand through it all. Because there I was, her 31-year-old FBI agent boyfriend, screaming over a scarf.

“Laugh it up,” I droned. And she did. She kept laughing through any attempts at a response, and after the initial embarrassment wore off, I couldn’t help but join her.

“I hope you know you chose me. You chose this man!” I shouted, gesturing to the people around us who had already forgotten about our shenanigans, “And everyone knows it!”

“I’m sorry I can’t—” she wheezed, pausing to take a necessary breath that was all lost with another bunch of giggles “—You’re a fucking FBI Agent!”

“Well I can’t shoot a ghost, can I?” I mumbled through the hit to my ego. But any suffering was quickly dealt with as she threw dramatic arms around my waist, pulling me close and protecting me from any other errant scarves that might show up.

“I love you so much,” she said.

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” I returned with a quick kiss on her forehead. And even if I implied otherwise, I think she knew that I was having just as good of a time as she was. In fact, it was one of the most relaxing days of my life, which was saying something, considering how much walking was involved.

But no matter how tired we both were, I still had one last place to take her. It took her a while to figure out why the route felt so familiar, but I wasn’t ready to ruin the surprise. I wanted to watch the realization dawn on her. She didn’t disappoint.

“The Mayflower?” she asked with a bit of a bashful laugh before looking up at me through narrowed eyes, “Feeling nostalgic, Dr. Reid?”

“Yeah, a little bit. Thought it was more romantic than the club,” I offered, trying to shrug off the nervous butterflies that burst through my stomach. “Not by much, mind you.”

Although I got the feeling that she didn’t know, or perhaps just didn’t remember, that wonderful night from almost a year ago was one of the most important days of my life. I knew it then, too. From the second I set my eyes on her from my pitiful place against the bar, I knew that she would ruin me.

“Nothing screams high end romance like an alley and a little light law breaking,” she sighed. I almost missed it, too preoccupied with the way her arm tugged me tighter so she could rest her head against my shoulder.

“I can take you home if you’d rather.”

“Hmmm. Depends,” she hummed. Then, turning her head up to me with that playful look that always turned me to putty in her hands, she purred, “How much longer do you think you can wait before you just have to have me?”

I sucked in a sharp, sarcastic breath, eyeing her just long enough for her to start to fume, I let out all the air with a defeated sigh, “I guess we’re staying.”

That serene sort of teasing continued past the reception desk and all the way up the elevator. If there were other people there, we didn’t bother noticing. We were too busy watching one another to even look away long enough to find our room. Doubling back through the dizzying hallways until we found the elusive number, we finally settled into the only vaguely familiar layout of beige and tan.

She was much quicker at it than I was. Before I’d even finished washing my hands and checking exposed skin for bugs that I was convinced had hitched a ride from the leaf pile, she was already stretched out on the bed in nothing but a tiny piece of lacy cotton and her favorite sweatshirt. The sight made me stop, lost for breath and logic of how I was lucky enough to be there with her again.

“See something you like, Dr. Reid?” she teased through giggles, no doubt recalling the same memory as me.

My answer didn’t need to be said, but I said it, anyway. She deserved to hear it.

“Yes.”

With arms outstretched, she sleepily begged, “Come here.”

But I couldn’t.

“Not yet… I just… I want to look at you like this a little bit longer.”

How could I move on from this moment, when it was the best I’d ever felt? So overwhelmingly safe and at home despite being in a strange, sterile room. I had no desire to move any inch of me if it meant that this image would persist for the rest of my days.

“You getting all romantic on me?”

“Always,” I chuckled. Her usual disgust for my sappy behavior didn’t show itself, overpowered by the gentle curve of her lips and hands that were becoming more and more insistent to be held. Eventually, I had to move, knowing that it was the only way to hold her.

My body reacted the way it always did when it found her. All of the tension dropped from tired shoulders, desperate to touch her more. To feel the imprint of her body pressed against mine, a mess of heat and need and love.

She was the one to kiss me first, and for a moment I let her do it without reciprocation. I wanted to feel how her touch became softer and shier as she realized what I was doing. That I was spending all of my energy memorizing the way her lips parted as she tried to hold back a giggle against my almost-still lips.

“What’s happening in that big genius brain of yours?” she murmured with eyes half open but still containing universes.

“I’m just thinking of all the things you’ve done to make me fall in love with you.”

I thanked all of the gods in every pantheon that made her too tired to tease. Instead, she just laughed, playing her part in bringing us back to that night we met.

“Like quote Picard?”

“We still haven’t watched Star Trek together,” I whined.

The sound must have stirred something new in her, because she rolled us over to take her seat on my lap. She hung over me, looking down at me, hopeless and breathless at the feel of her thighs under my hands. My heart started to race, but I didn’t know why.

It wasn’t until she spoke the words that were already running through my mind, “We’ve got time. Picard can wait.”

Everything about it was effortless. Our bodies had fallen together and mouths found each other exactly like every romance novel has ever tried to tackle the metaphor of gravity.

But if we were an orbit, it was not a binary like the traditional notion of two equal souls. Despite the nickname I’d chosen for her, nothing about her soul was small. And even though she burned bright, she wasn’t anything like the fiery combustion of a star.

She was a home. A thing so full of vitality and life that I would love to watch for whatever time I had left. I was just a moon, loyally following her and trying my best to shield her from whatever might try to harm her. To protect her when she needed rest and to lead the tides to kiss her when she wished. I would be her shadow, shining a light onto her even in the darkest time. All that I asked for in return was a spot beside her.

‘One day,’ she had said before, ‘if you will have me.’

But it was never a question. Not for me. And if she really needed me to answer it for her, I was happy to give her that. I hadn’t been waiting for even a year, but it felt like a lifetime.

“Yeah, he can,” I repeated, quiet and with such a heavy waver that I’m surprised she could understand the shifting inflections. Even if she didn’t, she knew that something had changed in those few seconds of silence.

“What’s up, Spencer?”

I didn’t know how to answer. How to explain what I was feeling. But I grabbed hold of one hand, clinging desperately to her and guiding her to the heart that felt dangerously light. The rapid pace of its beating still not enough to alert her of the true cacophony of my thoughts.

“Are you okay?”

The answer was yes. Because no matter how loud and chaotic the sounds inside my head were, they all lead me to the same conclusion.

“Picard can wait, and we have a lot of time,” I tried to explain through a dry throat that was only growing tighter with the unwieldy weight of the feeling.

“Yes…” she mumbled back, just as trepidatious and nervous as I was.

Just like I was. Because we were. We were connected by some force, whatever you want to call it. Whether it was a chemical or psychological or heavenly connection, I didn’t care. I wanted her to know how I felt. To know that there was nothing that would ever tear me away from her.

“But I don’t… I don’t think I want to wait.”

After a couple more seconds of silence, she answered with a knowing stare, “… What?”

From my position underneath her, I was able to reach over just enough to grab my jacket. Of course, it helped that she moved with me, clearly curious and terrified of the possibilities. But a good kind of terror… I hoped.

My confidence grew as her legs gripped tighter around my hips and her hands shot up to cover her chest with balled fists pressed against one another. I heard the friction of her skin as her body started to shake in a different way, with an adrenaline that I hadn’t seen from her in even the most dangerous situations.

But when I pulled a small velvet box from the internal pocket, everything stopped. She became completely still. Her eyes were wide and frozen on the object in my hands, only to look away when she heard my voice.

“(Y/n).”

“Where did you get that?” she asked like she hadn’t just seen me pull it from my jacket. The same jacket that I wore every time that I was with her. The wool fabric that she’d swaddled herself in on a number of occasions, none the wiser of how much heavier it was for me when I wore it.

“I know this is really random, a-and to be fair, I wasn’t expecting it, either,” I said through the most awkward laughs I’d ever produced (which was saying something), “I mean, I knew I wanted to marry you, I’ve known that for quite some time, hence the ring.”

I paused, but got nothing in response. Nothing except her lips quivering from their parted position, and her nose twitching as she tried to settle on just one expression. But it didn’t matter how she contorted her face; they were all exactly as they should be. Because they were all her.

“But today, with you… I-I’ve never been that happy in my life. Jumping in leaves and fighting over fall flavors and I—“

Her eyes stopped bouncing, settling with my gaze and robbing my lungs of all air. She made up her mind, deciding to leave everything exactly as it was. The honest truth of the overwhelming storm of every emotion that had been experienced in the little time we had shared together.

The knowing that everything had happened exactly as it should have to bring us here.

“I love you so much,” I whispered, careful to make every word as genuine as they were, “And I know that we have all the time in the world left with one another… but I don’t want to wait any longer for you to be my wife.”

“Ask me,” she answered immediately and abruptly.  

“Okay,” I laughed, endlessly entertained by how she could sound so aggressive even when we were both at our most vulnerable, caught in the nexus of our love.

“Um… Will you… marry me?”

There was no hesitation. No worry, no fear, and no doubt.

“Yes, you stupid old man!” she outright screamed, throwing arms around me even when it meant we both slammed against pillows and the headboard. She didn’t stop squealing even when she kissed me, struggling to find more of me to hold onto.

After she decided that tugging on my hair was the best way to express her affection, I managed to break away just long enough to shout, “Wait! I have to put the ring on you!”

“Then put it on!” she yelled, thrusting her hand in front of my face and practically slapping me in the process. But none of the pain mattered. Nothing was even recognizable outside of the feeling of her sweaty, shaking palm resting against my fingers.

I noticed for the first time that I was also trembling. I took the time to focus, slipping the ring over her finger. But once it started to safely slide into place, my eyes returned to watch what I knew to be happy tears fall over her cheeks. I wiped them away, but they were replaced with the wetness from my face when she brought us together again with a long, gentle kiss.

A calmness came over the room like the feeling following a storm. A clean slate with soil enriched for growth. A hope for a future forever changed.

“What do we do now?” she asked, biting her bottom lip and holding tight to my hands.

The answer seemed clear enough.

“Whatever we want.”

—————————————————

Is this really happening?

I stared at the diamond shining back at me with a clarity that had to be a metaphor for my heart. In the vague reflection of yellow light and us, I felt a warmth that doesn’t normally accompany metal. My finger’s new companion felt so comfortable in its new resting place. A constant reminder of the man I called home.

Then I turned back to him, unsure how I was supposed to move on from this moment. I never wanted to leave, but I also needed to move. I compromised and settled with my face against his chest, listening to the heartbeat he’d just dedicated to me. In that peaceful quiet, I heard him speak so softly I wasn’t sure I was meant to hear it.

But I did.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said with fingers dancing through the ends of my hair, “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

And for once, the thought didn’t feel like a burden. In fact, it felt like freedom. I was finally free to be who I was without worry that I would be alone. Without worrying that I would be too much or too little to please him.

I was enough.

Enough.

“I love you,” I said, tasting salt from tears I hadn’t even noticed were falling.

Curiously, and in a rare role switch, Spencer was the one who took a blatantly affectionate display and turned it into something else. Pulling me away from his chest, he dragged me up until he could drag his lips over my jaw.

“Don’t cry, little girl,” he cooed with what I could only imagine was a wicked grin, “I haven’t given you a reason to yet.”

Something about that gruff rumble in his throat caused my skin to ripple with goosebumps. Every inch of me burned with flames that could only be put out by his touch. I chased after his lips with my own, but he was insistent on trailing down my throat. He knew I would be powerless to him. I wouldn’t be able to argue when my hands were knotted in his hair and my hips were already rocking helplessly against his erection.

“I want you to fuck me,” I seethed. My blood was boiling from the heat I felt within, and before he could even answer I was already working at the buttons on his shirt.

“Oh? You don’t want me to make love to you?” Spencer laughed. As if that had ever been our style.

“No, I want you to take what’s yours.”

He responded to the demand by pushing me from my seat, forcing me onto my back on the other end of the bed. I wasn’t going to complain, either. The new position allowed me access to his belt, which I unbuckled before he even had time to laugh.

“Are you really challenging me right now, little girl?”

But despite the taunt, he did nothing to stop me. His hands were also busy removing my clothes. And just like before, our nakedness was reciprocated. With each lost layer, I should have felt lighter, but I didn’t. I felt so powerful, so aware of how our bare bodies twined together.

“Here, of all places? Do you remember what I did to you that night?”

How could I ever forget?

“I’m not the same girl you had in your bed then,” I purred. We both knew it was true, although not in the way I was implying.

Because Spencer had changed me. Irrevocably. He taught me so much — not just about physics, literature, or criminology, either. He taught me about kindness, softness, and vulnerability. He taught me how to trust that someone could hold me without the intention of letting me go. More than anything, he taught me that I didn’t have to learn these things alone. Even the smartest man I’d ever met needed help with them sometimes.

Then again, something told me that Spencer wasn’t in a very humble mood. Perhaps it was the fact he’d pinned me down again, with his hands clumsily gripping hard enough to leave crescent moons in my forearms.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he growled with a small, chaste kiss, “You’re still just a fucking brat.”

I wasn’t feeling bratty then, though. Especially not as I felt the head of his cock pressed against me, just hard enough to feel the resistance of my body. He waited there, no doubt taking pleasure in the way my whole body squirmed underneath him. My hips bucked, but he managed to keep a cruelly steady distance.

“You’re so precious when you’re needy,” he mumbled. And although I stubbornly avoided looking him in the eyes out of protest, he forced my face towards him again, anyway. “Go on. Say please.”

“Fuck off,” I whined through a prominent pout that did me no favors.

“Say it.”

“Please!”

I managed to make eye contact, but it was fleeting. As soon as he thrust forward into me, my back arched and I lost myself in the pillows. My hands found him, though, leaving angry red welts over heated skin. If Spencer was at all affected by the pain, he made no showing of it. His pace continued, steadily forcing our bodies together until I trembled in his hands.

He would hold me there, at my limit but not pleading for him to do anything different. With tender hands, he would fuck me until I swore bruises would follow. But I never felt unsafe; I felt cared for and cherished in a way I’d never known. I trusted him to know my limits better than myself.

I trusted him with all of me because I had already seen that when given the chance, he would do whatever he could to protect me.

The love I felt must have shone through my eyes because his hips got slower, drawing out each movement. My hips rose in tandem with his, allowing me to feel every inch of him inside of me.

“This body belongs to me now and forever,” he whispered.

It always has.

“You belong to me.”

And I felt it. The undeniable string of fate that tied us to each other. I could feel his every emotion as his fingers brushed over my throat. I melted under his touch, completely consumed by the love he felt for me. The kind of love that people spent their whole lives searching for only to come up empty. That powerful thing that drove gods to war and men to madness.

The only feeling that could tear down every wall that had been carefully crafted to protect myself. Because I didn’t need them anymore. Spencer’s arms would take their place, holding me through the storms that might follow the same way he had carried me through the ones that led us here.

“Yes,” I breathed, “I’m yours.”

For forever and whatever comes after.

The words were truer than they’d ever been before, and Spencer took it as permission to let go of any remaining hesitation. The slow, gentle thrusts became faster and our moans echoed in the small room without a second thought to the poor patrons in the rooms surrounding us. Because if they felt what we did, they would understand. Spencer still tried to hush the sounds, crashing his lips over mine in a sloppy, frenzied kiss.

I was suddenly reminded of every romantic story I’d ever heard. They all spoke of feeling so close to someone that they felt like an extension of yourself. I wasn’t sure if it was completely true, but there was no denying how at home our bodies were. The way our tongues wrapped around one another and how our noses bumped so gently in the chaos was unmatched by any meeting driven by lust or need.

His hips met mine over and over again, no matter how hard I tried to keep him closer. Even when my hips chased his to be held longer, Spencer was persistent in the ruthless pace. Because like me, he was lost in the euphoria. I knew it from the sound of his whimpers and the way he bit my lip just a little bit harder.

“Tell me what you want, little girl,” he begged. Not ordered. Begged.

“You,” I answered without any doubt, “I just want you.”

His response came even faster, even more desperate and scratchy as it came through his lips into mine.

“You have me. For the rest of my life and whatever comes after, I will take care of you.”

There was nothing left to say. I could feel the truth and force behind the words as he fucked me harder, eliciting one more quiet cry from me in the sound of his name.

“Spencer...”

When he returned the call, though, it wasn’t with any name I’d heard from him before.

“So you better get used to this feeling,” he said through a smile that I felt on my lips before he drew back. He looked me in the eye as he buried himself in me, tensing to hold himself back just a few seconds longer. To see the look on my face and let that be the feeling of us giving in to each other for the first time in our new story.

“Because I’m never going to grow tired of this, Mrs. Reid.”

Mrs. Reid.

That was going to be my name.

Mrs. Reid.

That was the only thought running through my mind as I felt the coil in my gut snap and all of my muscles tense around him. There were no whorish sounds left in my lungs, only little whimpers and whines as I tried to claw him closer. Spencer gave up his visual in exchange for kissing me while he finished. My walls held him so tightly that I felt each pulse and every place where his release filled me. But nothing was more compelling than feeling the way his lip quivered between mine as his body fell onto mine with no grace required.

Spencer could act hard all he wanted, but I felt the way he craved softness. Safety. Love. All things I was happy to give… for a price.

“Say it again.”

“Say what again?” he replied sleepily but animated enough to have a healthy dose of snark. Snark that earned him a rough nudge of my elbow into his ribs.

“You know!”

But naturally, the genius had to play dumb. With a happy little hum, he snuggled closer to me, burying his face into my neck so he could mumble against the skin, “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Please,” I sighed, “for me?”

He seemed to contemplate the plea for a little while longer, with wiggling toes I felt against my shins and a happy sigh that breezed over my neck. I tried to take in those small things while I waited, knowing that while I had a lifetime to learn them, this moment would never come again.

“Fine,” he finally settled, propping himself up to give another soft kiss followed by the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Only for you, Mrs. Reid.”

—— The Next Morning ——

Waking up next to Spencer with a ring on my finger was literally waking up to find my dream come to life. And sure, his light snoring and constant wriggling under the sheets he continued to pull off of me weren’t perfect or picturesque, but they were real. The same way that he chirped when he felt my legs wrap around him in his sleep and only woke when he heard me giggling.

His eyes fluttered open, taken aback by something that he saw. Although I would blame it on the sunlight filtering through the curtains, I was sure that he would give me all the credit.

“Good morning,” he slurred.

“Hi,” I answered with a smile and an attempt to pull him closer. But my hand was stopped by his, squeezing my palm between his fingers before dragging my knuckles to his lips. From there, he laid a gentle kiss over the diamond he’d placed there the night before. Although it was strange to be outshone by a rock, I let it go for now.

“I know you shouldn’t sleep with it on, but it’s so nice to see it’s still there,” he said with a heavy breath before lowering our still joined hands to rest against his heart. I could feel the way it beat a little bit quicker as I came closer, and I wondered if this was really what it would be like forever.

“I couldn’t resist wearing it.”

“You know you can still change your mind, right? We haven’t told anyone.”

“I haven’t changed my mind,” I replied unlike every time before. There was no teasing, no joke or anger or sadness. Just a pure, unadulterated joy.

… Of course, the question did bring up an entirely new anxiety. It did feel a bit silly, but it needs to be expressed.

“Have you?”

“God, no,” he laughed. Like he’d only asked the question to see the way I might panic. But as soon as I heard his assurance, I knew it was the truth.

My mind started to drift back to that first morning we spent together. It felt like a lifetime ago, but everything still felt so very much the same. I wondered if there were things I would change if given the chance. It wasn’t until after I ran through the laundry list of things that we would have been better off without that I realized I’d asked the wrong question.

It wasn’t a matter of what I would have changed, but what I would have kept the same. And the answer was simple. No matter what I would face in my life, I just wanted it to be with him. Everything would be okay as long as I had him.

However, when I tried to kiss him, Spencer still seemed hung up on the things he would have changed. Our lips didn’t connect for even ten seconds before he broke apart, happily laughing through the words, “This is so much better when I’m not hungover.”

“Old man.”

He didn’t argue back, wiggling under the sheets until our chests were pressed together. I took it as a very poor attempt at a power play, because instead of craning my neck to look up at him from my spot, I simply climbed his lanky figure until our noses were pressed together.

“Your old man now,” he corrected, followed by my own clarification of, “You were always mine, Dr. Reid.”

“But now you get to show everyone.” He grinned, letting go of my hand to roam over the curves of my body. His daily attempts to memorize each version of me he held. After a few more moments of silent reverence, I asked the question we’d have to face eventually, lest we face even more awkward, embarrassing moments with the team.

“Who’s gonna tell everyone?”

He barely even considered the options before he shrugged.

“Let’s just… wing it.”

I paused, certain that I’d heard it wrong. “You, Spencer Reid, would like to ‘wing it?’” I repeated, barely able to get the words out without laughing from the absurdity of it all.

But he was quick to assure me, “Yeah, I do.”

“Alright. Whatever you say,” I sighed. I figured that it wouldn’t be worth it to plan right now, anyway. It wasn’t exactly our style. If anything, we would find the perfect time completely by accident.

“You know what we should do first though?” I excitedly announced to the best audience a girl could ever ask for.

“What?”

“Coffee,” I drawled. To which he quickly answered, “I love you an ungodly amount.”

Taking full advantage of that admission, I shoved the poor soul who’d shackled himself to me forever away as I ordered, “Go turn it on. I am craving shitty hotel coffee in bed with my fiancé.”

“Fine,” he resigned with a smile while rolling out of the bed, “Spoiled brat.”

“Your spoiled brat!” I shouted back from safe under the covers that I could finally get back in his absence. They weren’t as good as him, but they would be enough for now. I buried my face into his pillow, snickering as I heard a very tired Spencer call from the bathroom, “Forever mine!”

Just as the sounds of running water filled the room, I lifted my head at the distant sound of familiar chiming beside me.

“Is that my phone?”

I didn’t answer, paralyzed in my place as I felt the most intense sensation of deja vu I’d ever experienced. Right there on the nightstand, I saw the name Hotchner.

Spencer was quicker this time to leave the bathroom, but just as he turned the corner, a thought must have stopped him. Because he paused, staring at me with hotel sheets gathered around me and his phone against my ear.

He didn’t try to fight me for the device. In fact, he didn’t move at all, watching from a few feet away with a smile I’d never seen before. The kind that I felt so deep inside of me that I realized this was what they meant to share a soul with someone.

“Hello,” I spoke softly and filled with love, “this is Mrs. Reid.”

The End.

—————————————————

Epilogue

#spencer reid #spencer reid series #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid request #reid request #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spencer reid self insert

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startanewdream · 4 years ago

Text

Glimpses of the future

Summary: Lily traces the third line of his hand. The loveline. 'What's going on with your heart, Potter?'

He wishes he knew.

For @sunshine-marauders who asked for Jily in Divination Class (I couldn’t add any real predictions, but I hope you enjoy this small journey of moments).

Rated T, with warnings for mildly swearing and for a teenager with hormones.

Read on AO3 or below the cut:

________________

Third year

James curses his friends the moment he enters the classroom. They were supposed to share all classes and yet they did not sign for Divination.

Now he is stuck in this class for at least three years.

Great.

And he seems to be the only Gryffindor there; he watches the groups of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, wondering where he should sit, when he sees a table with only one person, their robes gold and red.

Then she turns around, and he recognizes Lily Evans.

They are not very close, not when she keeps weird company he doesn't support - one person only, to be fair -, but Evans is fine, he supposes. Sometimes he thinks she is funny; sometimes she laughs from something he does.

It's a start, at least, and she is the only other Gryffindor there. Gryffindors should stick together.

So he walks towards her table.

'Hi, Evans', he begins, giving her his most sympathetic smile. 'Is this seat available?'

She glances at him, her green eyes assessing him, as if wondering if he is joking with her, before she nods.

'Sure', she says, moving a little to allow him to share the couch with her.

'Your friends ditched you too?', he tries, hoping to engage her into some nice conversation. If they are to be partners, at least they can be is corteous to each other.

'What?'

'My friends. Those prats told me they would sign for this class and they gave up at the last minute'.

'Oh', she is staring at him as if she thinks he is lunatic. 'No, I wanted to study Divination. I always thought it was interesting'.

'Oh'. He thinks of joining that class just for the laugh, for the silliness it would represent since he doesn't really believe in it. But Evans is not smiling and James is not sure how to deal with it. 'So you believe we can get glimpses of the future?'

'Well, magic is real, why couldn't we?'

James shrugs. He never had thought about it in these terms, not really.

'Yeah, I guess. Then you joined the class for curiosity? Want to know what the future will bring?'

'Well, that too'.

'What else?'

There is a pinkness on her cheek, but Lily Evans looks nothing but resolute as she stares at him.

'Sev'.

'Ah', James doesn't refrain from grimacing. If only Evans could move on from her strange taste in friends. 'Don't tell me he is in the class'.

'No, he told me Divination was a waste of time'.

'And yet here you are'.

A grin shines on her lips; it is almost mischievous . 'And yet here I am', Evans agrees.

James grins back, approvingly. Perhaps there is hope for Evans after all.

~*~

Fourth year

Evans' hands are warm. James shouldn't notice this. He shouldn't feel so… so whatever he is feeling just because her hands are touching him, one hand holding his left hand and her other sliding over the palm of his hand as she traces the lines there.

It's just... her touch is so soft, like butterfly wings fluttering delicately or maybe a Golden Snitch's wings - he doesn't care much for the seeker position, but maybe he should, because suddenly he feels his hand is too rough with years of practicing chasing. Perhaps he should try some lotion for them, because she is hating to touch him.

Lily Evans' hands are so delicate, so small compared to his - maybe that growth spurt he had during summer turned him into some kind of ogre, because he feels so out of place next to her, and then he wonders what is the right place with Evans...

'Your lifeline is very clear, Potter', Evans is explaining, talking about choices and what it represents, and he tries to concentrate, but it's difficult because the tips of her finger dancing over the palm of his hand are sending shivers down his spine.

It almost tickles but that's not really what he feels; there is no urge to laugh, just… just to enjoy how good it feels. What's his problem? That's Evans. She can't stand him and he - he also doesn't like her much, though she is vivacious and funny and pretty and her eyes are really gorgeous and her touch is so tender -

'Now, that's interesting', Evans whispers to herself, consulting the book open next to her. She is tracing the third line of his hand. The loveline. 'What's going on with your heart, Potter?'

He wishes he knew.

~*~

Fifth year

'You are late', Evans complains the second he slids next to her on the couch in the Gryffindor Common Room.

'I overslept', he mumbles, for a second refusing to look her in the eyes in a irrational fear she will know exactly the reason he had trouble leaving the bed. Then he grins uncontrollably as her words come back to him. 'Missing me much, Evans?'

Her eyes flicker, not impressed by his smile. Someone else might, he can't help but think. But nothing he ever does seems to amuse her lately.

He tries not to let it bother him, though, very much like her presence in his dreams, he can't help himself.

'If by missed you you mean that I missed not getting another partner for this project, yeah, then sure'.

'It's a start', he tries, still with that stupid grin he always has around her. She closes her eyes for a second, pinching her nose.

'Just let us finish this, Potter. The faster we do, the faster I can go back to my life and you can go do whatever you want'.

She is stressed. Same as everyone else, really, with the nervousness of the exams this year, but he never saw Lily Evans looking so impatient before.

He feels that twinge of guilt that only Evans can arise on him. She is the sole reason for a lot of his feelings lately.

'Sorry for being late', he tells her quietly, and her expression relaxes a little.

'Okay'. She bits her lips and James has to concentrate on keeping her gaze without blushing. It's not like those green eyes of her are not a participant in his dreams too - always staring down at him, for once not looking reprovingly, but invitingly -, but they are easier, much easier, than thinking of her lips that have also been on his mind lately.

Though for very different reasons. And in different situations. With different purposes.

He feels his face heating, which is ironic because the blood seems to be going from his head to…

He looks away, hurrying to pick up his things in his backpack, where it should be safer.

And he can put his backpack on his lap, just in case he needs to hide some of his more… evident reactions to Lily Evans.

Damn stupid hormones.

'It's a good thing you were sleeping, I suppose', Evans adds, her voice a bit warmer now, and James wonders what has been evident in his expression. It's not what he was thinking of, for sure; Evans would not be kind to him if she knew the ways she had been appearing in his dreams lately.

'It is?', he asks, confused. Truth be told he sort of napped during the last class of Divination (right after a Full Moon - he is not used to spending the whole night awake yet) and all he knows is that Evans is his project partner for this semester.

Fortunately she seems to take pity on his confusion.

'Yeah, here'. She takes out two sheets, giving him one. James freezes when he reads the title of it.

Dream diary.

'Tell me, Potter', she starts, taking out her quill and sucking the top of it. Sugarquill, James knows but his treacherous improper mind keeps remembering the way her lips were moving in his dream, and it was not over a quill at all. 'What have you been dreaming about?'

James gulps.

~*~

Sixth year

The classroom is hot with the vapour from the incense. James yawns, trying to focus, but there is nothing inside that crystal ball that gives him any clue at all of what he should be seeing.

There are none of the misty figures the book says he could see.

'Do not fret if you don't see anything', Professor Bath says, her voice sounding mystical since he can't say where she is. 'True sight is a rare gift'.

'So are good incenses', Evans murmurs beside him, and James chuckles lightly. He barely can see her through the smoke. 'Are you seeing anything at all?'

'I think it's safe to assume there will be a blizzard tonight', he whispers dramatically, and now it's her turn to chuckle.

That sound fills him with contentment. He is so glad he didn't give up this class - and neither did she.

'Move a little, I want to see better'.

He sits more to the left, but it's not enough space apparently. Evans comes into focus as she shifts her position, her hand brushing against his as she sits very near him - he can feel the heat coming from her body, the shape of her tight pressed against his and above all her perfume, a mix of garden flowers with scented herbs and he thinks her smell should not be more powerful than the incense in the room and yet it is.

He inhales happily now, taking in Evans' perfume even as he already accepted he won't ever have anything else, and Evans turns to him with a teasing grin on her lips.

'Enjoying the incense, Potter?'

Perhaps it's all the smoke (who is he kidding, it's not the incense, it's her), because James can only think of leaning into her and capturing her lips with his own; it would feel better than any intake of fresh air, he is sure of it.

But that's only a silly hope, so he just shrugs carefreely.

'It is not that bad after a while'.

'You are so high', she teases. James agrees with her. I am so high on you.

But he doesn't say anything and Evans shakes her head, seemingly amused by the light expression on his face, and moves forward to stare at the crystal ball.

Her face vanishes from his vision and yet he could picture the way her eyes are staring attentively at the crystal ball, the way she is biting her lips as she tries to make sense of that smoke that is supposed to give them glimpses of the future.

'Potter?', she calls him, her voice distant. 'Come here'.

He leans forward, joining her next to the crystall ball. Again the wave of her perfume threatens to numb all his senses and James tries to find something other to focus, though is hard. The crystall ball presents him misteries he doesn't really wants to unravel, not when her face is close to his, her dark red hair looking very vivid against the smoke around them and if he turned his face he could brush his lips against her cheek and then -

'What are you seeing?'

He turns almost desperately to the crystall ball, but it doesn't change much. Albeit a little distorted, all he can see is her face staring him back, green eyes sparkling over a face with small freckles he always feels tempted to count.

'You', he whispers. 'All I see is you'.

There is a moment of silence and through the haze on his mind, he suddenly fears that she understood exactly what he meant by that.

But then Evans sighes, taking a scroll and looking away.

'Funny', she says, her voice small too. 'All I could see was you too'.

~*~

Seventh year

'This is not what we should be doing with our time, Lily', he whispers, his voice lacking any reprehension as he pulls Lily even closer to him, his hands around her waist, feeling the skin of her back.

'I feel offended', she answers back, her head raised so her lips can brush his neck. It sends shivers down James' spine that have nothing to do with the cold wind around them. 'Professor Bath has told us we needed to be relaxed, right?'

'I am not sure if that's what she meant'.

'Are you relaxed or not?'

In answer, his lips find hers, and then James is lost in that sensation of kissing Lily, their bodies close together, her arms around his neck holding his hair. It's better than he ever dreamed.

He is not sure if relaxed is the proper term for how she makes him feel though.

Maybe desperately in love would be more accurate.

'Wow', he whispers breathlessly when they break apart, his fingers caressing her face tenderly. She raises her eyebrows, a spark of mischief tingling on her eyes.

'Feeling connected with your inner eye?'

'I'd rather feel connected with you', he assures her, and Lily grins. It's one of the most maddening smiles of her, the one that is cheeky and tempting and that she accuses him of teaching her how to.

'I don't know how you can find a prophecy on my lips, James', she jokes, eyes glistening, waiting for his answer.

James doesn't really care for this last project for Divination Class. Professor Bath has told them prophecies are rare to come and she doesn't really expect any of her students to ever make one, but they must take a try.

James is not even sure real prophecies actually exist.

'Maybe I can find somewhere else', he says playfully, lips brushing against the side of her cheek and then to her earlobe. 'Not here', he whispers and then his lips travel to her neck. 'Still no prophecy'.

He bends his head, enjoying the first opened buttons of her shirt. Lily moans softly.

'I am starting to hear words in my head…'

'Unless they are telling you to snog me right now, ignore them'.

James laughs, raising his head in search of her lips again and it's a blissful oblivion, a fog on his head with only Lily being clear, being real and tangible, and any thoughts of prophecies are forgotten.

#jily #jily fanfiction #fluff moments #canon compliant #james is so hopeless in love I wanna hug him #they are adorable #i hope you enjoy #cause except for the last line this gave me all the fluff writing it #t: fanfiction

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years ago

Text

I live in the neighbourhood - Part 3

What happened to the cycling classes after work and the occasional drinks with coworkers? Now it was flying to Italy to vacation for the December holidays with Harry and his family and friends.

Ok part 3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and the final part of ilitn i believe! let me know what you think! plssss! Not proofread, but your support means the most and it means the world to see your thoughts, literally anything about it, and this little harry I always have to remember that’s the simp your honor ^ right there! anyway happy reading!

Read Part 1 | 2

Word Count: 10.9k | Warnings: swearing, smut! (finally) - oral (m+f receiving, dirty talk, choking? i can’t remember ngl there might not be, sloppy sex, outdoors by the pooldeck just btw, christmas, idk but hopefully nothing I missed, feelings! happy ending (possibly rushed

“You’re really flying to Italy and then traipsing around the Italian countryside for three weeks with Harry and his family? I cannot believe you’re leaving me behind.”

“You’re gonna kill me for saying this, but he had said I could invite a friend or two if I wanted. But I thought it’d be weird with his family so you literally can’t be mad at me!”

“Fine. I’ll move past it, but how did you move past the whole panic attack? Like you barely spoke to him for a month and then he’s on your doorstep and you’re kissing and agreeing to a Roman Holiday?”

“It’s Harry,” she sighs, laying down on her couch. “How could I not, I got scared because he was gone, but once he was back, nothing else mattered.”

“I guess,” Cate mumbles.

“Oof, sorry Cate I have another call, I’ve got to go…”

By the time she tries to pick up the other line has gone to a message and she’s left to listen to her boss over a voicemail:

“Hey Y/N, I know your holidays have just begun, but I wanted to inform you that you’ll be getting a new client in the new year. Big artist! Anyway, just wanted to inform you that I’ll be emailing over some of their paperwork. Feel free to ignore it until the new year! Have a nice trip.”

She sighs. “Interesting...but will definitely be waiting for the new year to even think about work,” she says to herself.

She throws her phone to the side. Tired of all the phone tag and messages she had begun to have to deal with as the Holiday season dawned more and more upon her. She had more important things to think about. Most important being the suitcase laid out before her and the flight she was bound to be taking in less than 24 hours. This time, she wouldn’t be picking Harry up from the airport. No, this time they were flying out of London Heathrow together.

Together together? She wasn’t sure. The kiss on her doorstep and plea of Italian holiday meant a lot to her, but did it scream committed relationship? She had no idea when it came to Harry. Maybe it was better not to ask and just wait until he told her. Wondering had gotten her in a pit last time and she never wanted to feel the way she had over the last month while he had been gone.

She sleeps in her bed for one last night before leaving for a month. Harry had managed to convince the airline to allow Rori to ride with them in first class, so she wouldn’t have to leave her dog in a kennel or with friends during the holidays. She was grateful for that and she just didn’t understand how she had gotten so lucky as to have someone like Harry in her life.

They fly first class and while Harry had secured her ticket last minute, she insisted that he take her money to pay for the ticket. She was determined to not lose herself in this process. She would happily go along with Harry’s crazy life as long as she maintained her constitution. And paying for her own ticket was one of her ways of doing that.

The flight is short, a quick jaunt compared to the arduous trips across the Atlantic, both her and Harry were quite used to from their work and family lives. He smiles at her throughout the journey, coming across the aisle often to check on her and pet Rori. He would make little jokes that wouldn’t make anyone else laugh but them and he would grab the airpod she would take out and play whatever she had been listening to and offer a dance. His little dances were so sweet, if strange and awkward in the small flight cabin.

She wore grey marbled leggings and a matching thick strapped tank top beneath a nondescript hoodie. Harry’s dressed quite nice for traveling, she presumes in case he’s papped. Linen trousers, a collared coat, and some beaded necklaces he had taken to wearing over the last few months - each month seemed to add on another necklace, but she wasn’t counting.

He had reminded her to bring large sunglasses for the airport.

He had said “I don’t care if we’re seen together, but it’s more for your comfort. I hate when my friend’s lives are put on display for the whole world. You’re not the one who signed up for this.”

She had been appreciative and grabbed her largest pair of sunglasses because truthfully she didn’t want to be seen with Harry. She didn’t want the whole world knowing her or her business, it wasn’t who she was. No, not at all. So when they step off the plane and head to baggage claim after customs, she feels aware of her surroundings in a way she never has been. It reminds her of the way Jeff, Charlotte, and Mitch had conducted themselves in the bar that one time. Extremely alert. Watching people’s eye movements and considering whether they recognized her companion. She trails behind him a fair amount, three paces at least. Harry glances back every few moments, checking in to make sure she’s still with him as they move through the bustling airport.

They make it to baggage claim with no stops, but sadly Harry’s luggage seems to give him away. That or just his presence, he was a 6 foot tall and extremely broad man who gave off this energy that couldn’t help but turn eyes. And all it took was one of those eyes to recognize the fluff of hair, the olive-y skin, the peaking bird tattoos and colorful necklaces to alert the world of just where he was.

He doesn’t get stopped for any pictures, but she feels the number of eyes on him grow. She also watches as Harry doesn’t shrink from the growing attention. If anything, it simply makes him move quicker, but only slightly. He glances at her once to see her hood up and big green glasses covering up half her face. Rori has left his carrier and is covering the other half as she pushes a cart in front of her. He makes a nondescript nod and then sets off towards the exit, she follows behind easily.

By the time they’re in the car that was waiting to drive them to Harry’s villa, he’s gotten buzzed by Jeff just to check-in since a few photos have been uploaded of him at the airport. People were so fast. She shook her head in disbelief as she looked up Harry Styles on twitter and saw the scene she had just been apart of minutes ago on her screen now. She’s unrecognizable in the photos she happens to appear in and to everyone else she looks like another traveler instead of Harry’s companion or whatever she was to him. Instead of his friend.

Harry calls Jeff as they’re driven to his lovely sprawling home near Lake Como. He informs him they’re fine - he is quick to ensure that Y/N is well after asking her himself once they had gotten into the confines of the small car. She thinks it’s sweet especially because she was sure that Jeff really was more focused on Harry and his well-being since he was both his friend and his client while she was just an extra. The two men talk about the flight and customs and what Jeff will be doing with his holiday since he had turned down Harry’s invitation to come out to Italy as well. This leaves her to stare out the window at the passing scenery. She and Rori are completely content with this as they watch the tranquil life around them as they pass by little forests and towns over cobblestoned ground.

The colors seem brighter throughout Italy compared to the sad and gloomy winter of London. The dreary scape traded for something far more picturesque. Italy growing ever more beautiful the closer they drive to Harry’s home. Everything was so radiant, from the sun shining above her head to the little dew drops still pooled on the perfectly green leaves of plants she knew not the names of.

The car pulls up to the long driveway to Harry’s place which he insisted was just a house, but she knew better. The driveway felt like half a mile of perfect cobblestones, seemingly handpicked to make the smoothest drive. Outside the house sat a gorgeous little convertible that was in between steel and cream and sparkled in the sun. The top was currently up, but she could tell the interior was just as nice as the exterior. Harry had a thing for cars and she suspected that no matter where he was, he managed to keep his cars in perfect condition.

The house was breathtaking due to its simultaneous simplicity and intricacy. It’s coloring was variations of cream and gold and some terra cotta. But it sprawled into the hillside behind it and wrapped around the nature to the side of it and the pool to the back right of it. There also was a little separate shed like thing that also seemed to be a residence. Harry insisted it was just an extra bedroom, but it looked like almost another house to her.

As she stepped out of the car, she thought that she might get lost in that house if she was left to wander around it by herself. A feeling she feared to get accustomed to.

The door of the house was a dark green that seemed oddly familiar to her as she walked through it. And when Harry looked back to make sure she had gotten in the house alright she recognized it. His door somehow matched the color of his eyes in dark lighting. A green that was timeless and ancient at the same time. A green that was unnerving yet inviting. A green that was Harry. She never thought she had a favorite color, but in that moment she was sure it was his eyes.

Harry calls her name and she realizes he’s been saying it for awhile.

“Sorry?”

He smiles fondly at her confused face and leans towards her as if he might kiss her. She stops breathing in that moment, wanting more than anything for that to be his next move. His chest brushes against hers, his warmth invading her space. His face is a mere milimeter from hers and she can count every speck of stubble on his jaw. But his lips don’t brush gently over hers in a way that she knew was addicting. Instead, his strong hand reaches past her and shuts the entrancing green door gently.

His eyes flicker back to her face when he pulls back, taking a single step backwards to allow for a comfortable space between them. Still close, but not like he’s about to embrace her expecting frame and kiss her.

“I asked if you wanted a tour of the house? Or if you just wanted me to pick your room.” His eyes are crinkled at the corner, a smile on his face even though his mouth is hung open in a lingering question.

She blinks her eyes and twitches her head to glance around the rest of her surroundings. Rori had run off the moment they had gotten in the door. The hallway Harry and she found themselves was narrow and simple, a single painting right behind Harry’s head was the sole decoration and a tapestry style rug beneath their feet. She nods after a moment, feeling all her words caught somewhere in her throat for no reason at all.

“Good,” he nods and gives her a funny look, trying to understand her quiet demeanor. “Just drop your stuff here for now,” he adds.

His hand encircles her wrist, as it had grown accustomed to, to lead her through the house. She bites her lower lip to muffle the little giggle that somehow escapes her as he tugs her playfully down and through the house.

He goes on about almost every piece of art and trinket he has hung and placed throughout the house. Each thing has its story and Harry waxes eloquent on every single one. He shows her each room in the house and then leads her outside through the single door of the master bedroom on the second floor. The door takes them onto a small balcony that overlooks the center of the estate which included the pool and then a garden to the left of the converted poolhouse - what Harry insisted it be called when Y/N had told him it was a mini house.

His hand has traveled down to intertwine with hers as the tour had drawn on. So as he leads her down the little spiral staircase to the ground floor, she hums at the warmth his thumb rubs into her skin ever so softly. His eyes flicker to her face and hold her gaze for a moment as he watches her descend the last two stairs.

She smiles at him, her cheeks rosy from the air outside. They walk between the garden and the pool to reach the “converted pool house” and she stops for a moment to dance her fingers through the perfectly clean pool water - he must have had a housekeeper who came by recently to open everything up and clean it all.

“This is truly amazing, Harry,” she sighs as she stares out at the entire house from the single stone upstep to the little cottage. It gave her a view of the entire place besides the front of the house. It was gorgeous.

Harry nods, tucking his head to his chest slightly, possibly feeling a little bashful. Behind the successful man that stood before her was a young boy with a dream that had made this possible and he never forgot that.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely and unlocks the door of the cottage, a similar green is painted on this door as well.

She goes ahead of him at his request and he watches her fingers on the green paint, caressing it softly, each finger never wishing to leave it as they slowly depart its surface. This place is just a microcosm of the house they had just been. A kitchenette, a living area, a bedroom, and a full bath - including a freestanding tub.

She all but runs around the place, fingers running over the countless spines of books that Harry mindlessly chose to store there in ceiling high bookshelves and eyes taking in prints of personal photography he had been too nervous to store anywhere but here. There were larger poster sized prints as well as smaller ones, all black and white, of different scenes on the walls of the living area. Some were portraits of loved ones, others were landscapes of cities and countryside alike, and some were of past lovers with their hair swept behind them as they looked back at Harry in some beautiful place. She smiled at these obviously film photographs and turned to Harry after a moment, almost mirroring the people in the more personal pictures.

“When’s the last time you used your camera?” She asks.

Harry’s figure is perched in the door, his body slightly slumped on the frame while he rolls his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. He hums, thinking back to the last time he took out his camera.

“Last tour...I think. I got film back with Camille in it and I just didn’t feel like putting more in it after that,” he rasps out and clears his throat at the end, clearly unnerved by the topic.

“Well, these are beautiful, you have a smart eye for catching precious moments,” she smiles softly, understanding Harry’s apprehension.

“Thanks,” his voice still a bit deeper than usual, “I still use my Super8 pretty regularly when I’m doing things for work. Like when I shoot music videos, I usually bring it along to get my own footage for later.”

She only nods and watches him enter the room, moving closer to her to gaze at the images more up close as well.

“I like to have something to remember it by. Just in case, someday,” he starts and sighs, eyes trained on the wall of memories, “My mind isn’t what it once was.”

She watches him delicately place his hand on the couch behind them to brace himself and she notices the slight fear in his face as he says it. She blinks at the scene in front of her. A man in an amazing moment in his life fearful that it might all disappear from his vision someday. A horrible thought that seems to plague him more often than one would expect.

She nudges closer to him immediately. Her shoulder brushes his arm as she presses her head to his own shoulder and stays there firmly.

“Thank you,” she whispers and his head drops down to look at her face now radiating warmth against him. “For sharing this with me.”

His hand on the couch moves to wrap around her shoulders and pull her closer. Instinctively, she wraps her arms around his waist and he rests his head atop of hers. He stays silent but places a chaste kiss in her hair. She squeezes harder, telling him everything is alright and all he had to be with her was himself.

He switches his gaze between the girl wrapped up in him and the pictures of the rest of his life in front of him and he takes it all in. He feels safe, a comfort he was hard pressed to find with his life always on the move. The bustling change felt eons away while he was wrapped up in her. She was constant and kind. Understanding. She took him as he was, no expectations. That realization has him melting further into her, his head dropping down to her shoulder and nosing into her hair. His hands cusping at the back of her neck and the small of her back. And he presses firmly yet gently.

They stand there, swaying slightly to an unknown tune that played only in their private world of just them two.

A branch sways too and breaks them out of their reverie when it taps against the French doors that lead out to somewhere else in Harry’s estate.

“I think I’d like to stay here, if that’s alright,” she says, pulling back from him only slightly.

His hands migrate from their embrace around her back and neck and slide to her hip and her shoulder separately. Her hands both rest on his chest and she feels his consistent heartbeat that she had been listening to for the last few minutes against her ear.

His eyes sparkle at her suggestion. “Really? There’s plenty of spots in the main house,” he rushes.

“No, I love this place,” she glances around once more, soaking in the cozy room that housed Harry’s art. “Plus, your family will be here tomorrow and you should all be together under one roof for the holidays. I know how rare that can be.”

He nods in agreement and twists a tendril of her hair around one of his fingers slowly. She doesn’t notice until he makes an experimental and playful tug on it. Her lips purse at the feeling and her eyes narrow.

“You’re an evil little thing under all those layers of niceties and kind words, Mr. Styles,” she says as she pulls away from him.

Now that it was decided on where she would be staying for the next few weeks, she wanted to get her things settled and take a shower possibly. She also needed to check in on Rori and see what he had gotten up to while they had been wandering.

Harry laughs, filled with an unmatched glee as he follows her out of the cottage and back into the main house, “I can show you evil if that’s what you want, dove. I’ll give you anything you want.”

And while she knows he’s saying this in jest, she knows he’s also telling the truth. He’d give her just about anything she wanted, all she had to do was ask.

After settling the house a bit, finding where Rori wanted to sleep - he chose inside the main house, and some showers, she and Harry both felt refreshed.

She walked out of the front door of the cottage and crossed to the French doors at the middle point of the house. They had them open to get fresh air in the house and she walked right through and into the kitchen where she found Harry and her dog happily perched on the countertop.

Rori batted at Harry’s hands and nuzzled into his scratches as Harry cradled him to his chest. It was criminally sweet and she knocked on the door frame to pull Harry’s attention away from her furry friend.

“You look nice,” Harry smiles.

She glances down at her outfit; a cashmere olive colored sweater and high waisted cream corduroys along with her sneakers of choice. She thought it was casual, but she appreciated the compliment nonetheless. She murmurs a thanks and a quick “you too”, she didn’t even need to look at what he was wearing, he always looked good. Her head tilts to rest on the door frame as well, her eyes trained on Harry’s face.

“Do you want to go for a drive?” He inquires as he places Rori back on the ground.

The dog scampers to her side for a moment before running off to do his own thing. Her lips quirk up on the sides and her eyes narrow slightly. He’s looking at her with a quiet confidence set in his jaw that she doesn’t quite understand.

His smile makes her bite her lip, slightly unnerved by the energy he was giving off. Maybe it was because they were completely alone - not something new to them since that’s how they interacted almost solely, but something about being in Italy seemed to have shifted the dynamic. Something in the water or whatever that saying was.

“Do I get to drive?” She stands from her leaning position and crosses in front of him.

His laugh comes out quickly and heartily. “No chance, dove.”

She groans and pushes at his shoulder.

“Trust me, you’ll like it better. Can just enjoy the scenery, don’t have to focus on the road.”

He wraps a hand around her waist and then scoots her towards the door that would lead them out of the house. She giggles at the contact and she feels him watching her. It felt nice, felt simply theirs.

He drove her down the driveway and onto a country road until it merged into a road by the lake. He brought the top down so the wind rushed around them, blustering about as he drove at a quick yet somehow leisurely pace. She glanced at the scenery and took a few pictures, but something else kept demanding her attention.

Harry. He was a quiet kind of handsome in this moment. It wasn’t in your face, it was just how each curve of his skin seemed perfectly placed. Every pore was clear and every mole had a reason. His tattoos peeking from his collar and shirt sleeves were that perfect inky black that remained smooth. It was consistent, the way his hair fell over his forehead and he would smooth it back without even thinking. His eyes were focused and bright, yet slightly stormier than normal. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. And she wondered what she had done to be beside him at that moment. Wondered what it was that she had done to be cared for by Harry.

His hand on her leg brings her out of her mind once again. His looks always seemed to get her lost in thought. He was just that special. No one else had ever caused any similar reaction. His fingers splay on her thigh, no rings on them today. He rubs his thumb back and forth softly and she leans closer to him to whisper in his ear. They were completely alone, but it felt like something even the wind didn’t deserve to hear.

He tilts his head to her, eyes flickering to her movement for a moment and then back to the road. His hand on her thigh slips upwards with how she moves.

“I’m the most lucky girl in the world,” she says, her lips brushing the shell of his ear as she says the words.

She pulls back and stares at him, her hand going down to her thigh to play with his lovingly. He looks at her again and sees her serious expression. This causes him to pull over on the side of the road by the water. He rubs at her thigh again with his thumb and she shifts in her seat.

“And why’s that?” His voice low as he asks and shifts the car into park.

“Because I’m here, with you. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything in this world.”

He hums in response and licks at his lips when her sweater happens to fall off her shoulder. She notices the slip, but doesn’t bother to fix it since she also saw how Harry’s eyes danced over the newly exposed skin.

“I wouldn’t trade this either” the words dance slowly off the tip of his tongue. His accent fuller as he says the last word. “Let’s walk around,” Harry suggests when he sees her eyes flicker between his and his lips.

They explore the grassy area that lives just before the dip of the water at Harry’s request. He guides her along with his hand entwined with hers. Her eyes stay on only him still, the scenery unable to compare to the beauty of him that she was just fully realizing how bad she wanted to be enveloped in. His profile is illuminated by the sun shining above them and she swears he’s sparkling under the light.

The fear of what they were and all of the things that came along with labels were the furthest away thoughts. The man who had been the quirky neighbour had transformed into the man she was pretty sure she was in love with. Too afraid to say those three words, she decided the best thing she could do was to show rather than tell.

“Harry,” she calls and he stops his wandering, turning to face her instead.

A hand reaches up to trace over his strong cheekbone and caresses down the side of his face and cradles his slightly stubbled jaw. Her thumb rubs over the place where his dimple often showed up. He sighs into her touch and says her name back. His voice fails him as he gazes down at her, everything he means to say dies in his throat, for once at a loss for words.

She purses her lips and reaches up to connect their lips, having missed his sweet lips touch. They were meant to press against hers. Harry seems to forget how to breathe, her initiating the kiss between them, something foreign to him, but not unwelcome. He leans down to make it easier on her and she glows in his reciprocation. His hand shifts to cradle the back of her head as the kiss continues. Their lips dance, brushing back and forth, tongues slightly licking into one another’s mouths ever so delicately, playfully even.

A specific clash of teeth as the kiss continues leads to a breathless laugh from her as Harry presses himself closer to her. His other hand pressing her waist safely into him. She happily obliges, sinking one hand to rest over his backside which makes him smile.

“Naughty,” he mumbles against her brightening lips, eyebrows bobbing over his closed eyes.

She laughs now, her head tilting up for a moment, eyes opening to look at his face, yet up so close it's just his eyes and upper cheeks. His eyes are extra large from this angle and the grey green they had been dancing between had merged into a darkening seafoam green that was rather rare for them. She wanted to take an inventory of every color his eyes managed to be, but she was sure the list would never end.

“You like it,” she quips back, a peck sneaked at the corner of his mouth. That little love touch leads to more minutes of making out. Her supple and soft chest against his strong one, hands roaming the other’s body searching for purchase. Soft sighs and gentle moans leave Harry’s mouth when she nibbles at his ear and leaves loving kisses to his neck and collarbone. She makes similar sounds when he laves his tongue over the hollow of her neck and mouths happily on her neck.

The sight of them is two lovers enthralled in each other’s mouths and bodies in a meadow beside a lake. The sounds of nature are only overtaken by their happiness with each other.

When he ruts his hips against her body and she writhes against him with eagerness previously not seen, Harry realizes just how in public they are and he pulls away. A whine of discontent falling from her lips before she can control herself.

“We should…” He falters again, staring down at his neighbour he had begun to want more than anything else in the world, “Should head back.”

“Right,” she nods curtly.

Hands falling back to her sides, but Harry grabs one of them and intertwine their fingers as they had them before. She smiles so wide her eyes crinkle at the corners and he can’t help himself to peck at the left side of her temple.

They drive back to the house and Harry suggests a dip in the pool which Y/N agrees to easily. Something to cool them off from the heavy makeout session they had partaken in down by the water.

“Everyone else is arriving tomorrow,” Harry says after he surfaces from his expert dive into the deep end. He treads water lightly and drifts towards her.

She’s floating on her back a little ways from him. Her hair was shimmery all wet again and the skin of her face glowed with tiny droplets. Her eyes were closed as she moved her hands back and forth through the comfortable water.

She feels his eyes on her, burning into her, waiting for a response. She peaks open one eye and looks at him. His cheeks pinken quickly from the slight embarrassment of being caught, but he doesn’t look away.

“It’s going to be really fun, Harry,” she rights herself and swims closer to him causing him to smile happily. “I’m really happy to be here.”

“It won’t be just us anymore,” he says, swimming backwards and creating a slight chase for her as she follows after him.

She narrows her eyes at his tactics, but still follows as he swims to the edge of the pool where they could both stand.

“Nope, but we’re gonna really get the holiday spirit flowing. Family dinners and games, shopping for gifts...this really is one of my favorite times of the season,” she smiles back at him and puts her hand against the edge of the pool, her chest emerging from beneath the cooling water.

Droplets roll down her chest, racing down her body and in between her cleavage. Harry’s eyes follow the water droplets disappearing beneath her bright red tied bikini top. He gets distracted when the air pebbles her nippls beneath the thin wet fabric, his tongue darts out to wet his lips at the sight. The round of her breast was especially full in the thin fabric. He had never seen this much of her despite their friendship lasting for many months now. It was...mouthwatering and his eyes stayed trained on her breasts as they rhythmically moved up and down with her breathing. It was like a spell.

That he was brought out of when a splash of water flicks at his face. She gives him an obvious look saying she had caught him staring and then she rolls her eyes at his smirk obviously not embarrassed by his latest fixation.

“We won’t be alone like this,” he steps closer to her, his own chest running with water droplets. His hair messy and wet atop his head as he pushes it off his forehead. “Possibly at all for the next three weeks,” he continues and hears her breath catch as he moves even closer. His body hovers a moment away from hers as he stares down at her. His nose almost brushes hers as he starts to lean down. She stays almost completely still. Her head moves though to allow Harry access to where his mouth seems to be headed, the side of her neck.

“After today,” he whispers before smudging an open mouthed kiss just below her ear.

A small gasp escapes her at his hot breath and a searing kiss against her chilled skin. She feels his smirk on her skin as he continues down her neck, leaving spongy eager kisses down the column.

“Well, I don’t think that’s a problem,” she tries to remain composure, feeling the burn inside of her pitch back up. The fire had dulled from the kissing by the lake once they had swam, but here he was pressing into her once again. Suddenly more eager and forward than he had ever been. Her breathing is hard to regulate with his expert hands running along her naked sides below the water and his legs backing her into the edge of the pool while his lips make love to her neck.

“Oh?” Harry hums, moving a hand up to fiddle with a strap of her top, the wet nylon twisting easily and then he lets it snap back softly. Her arousal only grows from the tiny smack. “Not a problem, eh?” His lips travel down between her breasts and she gasps in anticipation.

“Won’t be able to make you feel this good anytime you want,” he breathes and then ghosts over her covered pebbled nipple.

“You’re a tease, Harry,” she grips at his shoulders that are hunched to allow him to kiss on her. Her eyes having the perfect view of his curved neck and spine, the skin an expanse of clear perfect flesh, no tattoos in sight from this angle. The little curls at the nape of his neck trickling with spare droplets as he sucks on her own skin.

“Hmm…” his lips travel back up to the underside of her jaw causing her to tilt her head back and her stimulated chest to press into Harry’s. A chuckle passes against her skin as he feels her two points press into him.

Then, suddenly, he pulls back and grips at the back of her head to make her look at him. His eyes are deep and dark as the day starts to wear on, the sun beginning to set off in the distance.

“Maybe I need to demonstrate just what you’ll be missing out on?” He tilts his head at his suggestion and the glimmer in his eyes shows that he knows exactly what he has to say to get his friend - and soon to be lover - riled up.

Her chest heaves once, longing for the warm touch of Harry’s lips again. “What are you getting at?”

“Wanna make you feel so good you’re begging me to call my family up and tell them to not bother coming because we won’t be leaving your bed for the next few weeks.”

A breathless laugh leaves her, in disbelief, but also in wanton need. Her desire for him grew tenfold in the last ten minutes. His last sentence leaves her itching with longing. For his touch as he promised it.

“Give me the best you got then,” she challenges, her conviction never wavering despite her needy state.

That little sentence is what sets Harry’s eyes ablaze and has him gripping her waist and picking her up and setting her on the edge of the pool.

A quick press of his lips against hers and a “wait here” before he’s pulling himself from the water and shuffling to grab one of the towels he had laid out. She watches him curiously, confused why he had just promised to ravage her but was pausing to towel off.

He comes back with the towel and lays it behind her.

“Harry, what are -”

A finger presses to her swollen lips as his other hand goes to her shoulder and lays her back.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

She nods, eyes wide and glassy as she stares up at him kneeling over her, his body between her bent knees. He leans down to press another kiss to her lips and then begins his decent.

“Gonna make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart,” he whispers.

Down her throat that he had happily been sucking on. His lips ghost over her still hard nipples and his hot breath has her arching off the ground immediately. A whine leaving her lips when he mouths between her two breasts in the valley just above the tie of suit. His fingers dance around on her skin, playing with her swimsuit fabric and she wants to scream at him to just untie it and really touch her, but she refrains. He continues his assault down her body. His hands grip at her knees when his lips travel below her navel. Her breaths have grown more strained as he’s gotten closer and closer to her heat. The cold wet fabric that covered her was a poor substitute to what she wanted to rub against her.

“Please,” she begs in a sigh as Harry’s lips skip where she wants him, instead traveling to her upper inner thigh.

He spreads her legs wider with his arms and her back arches further, her body just about fully on display for Harry. His eyes flicker up to her face that was staring right back down at him, watching his every move.

The cheeky bottoms left little to the imagination and the ties on the sides were so enticing Harry’s fingers smoothed up her thighs and began to toy with them. His face now hovering over her clothed center. His breath fanning the flames of her arousal just below the cherry fabric.

“See,” he smirks, eyes back on her face, “I haven’t even touched you yet, but you’re already begging.

“You’re an ass,” she grits out, trying to not be bothered by how easily he has gotten her in this position.

He clicks his tongue and tugs experimentally at one of the bottoms ties, “S’not a very nice thing to say to the man who’s about to stick his tongue in ya’?”

She gasps and slaps at his right shoulder at his crudeness. “You’re dirty!”

“And you’re wet,” he says confidently, smirking up from between her legs.

His fingers finally tug the ties undone and pull the fabric away from her center. The red bikini bottom falls limply to the ground and Harry’s eyes train on her glistening mound. Wet with the pool water as well as her arousal. To add to the cool air ghosting over her newly exposed skin, Harry blows his own breath over her. She writhes at the sensation, she bites at her lip to hold back any possible moans.

He glances at her face again and settles one arm to be wrapped around her leg and pressing down on her left hip. His other hand snakes between his face and her body and lightly drags between her folds. She bucks her body again, completely in need of some friction after all of the build up and teasing of today. Every nerve down there was electrified at the possibility of Harry finally touching her like this.

His finger pulls back and a string of arousal clings to him, a testament to the filthy thoughts she had about her neighbour. Thoughts she had pushed away for so long until recently. Thoughts she only indulged in in the dead of night, when she was exhausted but her mind insisted on wandering to the green sharp eyes that might stare at her if he ever were to delve into her depths. Her hands would travel to where he was now and rub out a triumphant shake of her thighs and heaving chest all in hopes that maybe he would bring her to that euphoria himself one day. Well that day was today.

He filthily takes that finger into his mouth and grins. “So wet,” he corrects.

His eyes disappear from view as he launches into his work. His drying curls flop over his forehead and tickle at her lower stomach slightly. He flattens his tongue and licks a strong stripe between her folds. The wet from her weeping hole spreads to her lips and around her clit as his finishes the lick with a little swirl. He uses his free hand to spread apart her lips a little more and takes the new angle to suck on the little puffy nub that is already throbbing. She gasps audibly when he pulls off of it with a squelching sound.

“Fuck,” he sighs and goes back to eating her out, happily pressing his tongue into her.

His hand on her hip travels to grope at one of her breasts and he deftly pulls at the top’s tie and grips onto her skin underneath the fabric. The strong grip mixed with his expert work between her thighs has her moaning loudly and her body writhing as he builds her up.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he rasps, thumb on her nipple flicking happily back and forth. “Scream it out,” he says into her quivering center, “Nobody around to hear you, be as loud as you want.”

She moans louder at his words, her hands gripping harder into his hair. The thought of this scene turns her on even more. In all honesty, if someone did hear them she’d kind of like it. If someone walked in and saw her stretched out next to the pool with their wet bodies writhing against each other in pleasure. Harry’s head buried between her thighs making her feel better than she ever has, her breasts falling out of their top as he massages them harshly.

“Taste so sweet,” he groans, lapping at her tight hole, the muscle contracting against his tongue’s invasion.

She liked how messy he got with it, not that she really had much coherent thoughts in this moment. But his hot tongue swiping up and down and back and forth over her glistening lips and sucking on her clit left her breathless. Her juices and his saliva were making a mess of her thighs and the towel below her. When Harry felt her getting closer he’d back off and pay attention to another part of her and then go back to sucking and nipping perfectly into her.

She was eventually stuttering out, “I’m going to cum, Harry.” Breathing becoming uneven as she was about to tip over the edge. He nods, sucking harder at her clit one last time before taking his tongue and pushing it in and out of her hole, one of his thumbs traveling to rub over her clit in quick succession.

“Cum for me, dove,” he mumbles quickly before going back to making her feel good.

She grips her own nipple now with one hand and Harry’s hair with the other, her hips pushing up into Harry’s face over and over again. And then she’s hitting her climax and tipping over the edge, a moan ripping from her throat and freezing on her face as Harry eats her out through it. His tongue licking over her quivering pussy. His thumb rubbing comforting circles around her clit until she stopped shaking. Her breathing slowing down, eyes fluttering open eventually. They lazily stare at the man below her who’s lips and chin are slick with her juices as he grins up at her.

“Do you want me to call my mum now or wait until you’re fully back on earth,” he says slyly and kisses the inside of her thigh once more. Eyes lovingly staying on her pleasured out face.

“Seriously talking about your mom while you’re still between my thighs,” she breathes out, completely in disbelief. Harry and her had never gone that far before and it was life changing. He had been right, even if she didn’t want to admit it, she wasn’t sure if she could go three weeks without that again.

He sits up and begins to gently pull back on her swim bottoms and tie them back up. She lays there watching him work.

“How about now?” He asks with a smirk, moving to sit beside her and help her sit up when her bottoms have been readjusted. The fabric against her newly sensitive area was definitely interesting, but she couldn’t care with Harry beside her. She ties off her top on her own, even though Harry gestured that he could do it.

“Shut up,” she laughs and takes a hand to caress at his cheek.

He nuzzles into her touch.

“You forget I’m staying in the cottage...separate from everyone else,” she winks at him.

“Think they’ll still be able to hear ya’ from in there, dove. You’re a loud one,” he bites the inside of his cheek as he teases her.

She huffs and drops her hand, “I was gonna return the favor, but now I don’t think so.”

It’s Harry’s turn to laugh and reach out to her face, he pulls her face close to his, bringing her eyes level with his. “I’m just teasing. Plus, you don’t need to return the favor, I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

A laugh bubbles from her lips at the thought of Harry wanting her as much as she wanted him and she pecks at his lips. She grimaces only a little, tasting herself on him still.

“We’ll just have to be sneaky,” she pulls back and rests her forehead against his.

“Yeah,” Harry breaths out. His breath hitches when he feels her hand begin to trail down his chest and fiddle with the hem of his shorts. Her eyes are trained on his, expressionless like she wasn’t beginning to palm his hardened length over his sticky swim shorts.

“I told you,” he musters, “You don’t have to.”

“But,” she rasps, finally. “I want to,” she licks her lips with determination, “Want to make you feel good, too.”

He hums as her soft fingers go back up to the hem of his shorts and he helps her pull them down as he gives a nod of approval to her watching eyes.

Her eyes widen when his length is finally revealed and its bright red tip stands tall and strong against Harry’s stomach, placing itself slightly just below one of the ferns. Harry watches her lick at her hand and then places it between his thighs, her body positioned right next to him. On her knees, she makes an experimental first pump, seeing how his body responded. Her eyes mainly watch his face and an open mouthed smirk twitches onto his face when he notices her gaze. She pumps him again, twisting her wrist this time and swiping at the precum leaking from his tip. A groan leaves Harry’s mouth at that and his stomach flexes, the skin beneath his many tattoos hardening.

“Feel good?” She inquires.

“Great,” he breathes out as she leans forward on her knees and attaches her mouth over his head.

She slowly moves her head down and attempts to fit his entire length into her mouth, but despite her best efforts, she can’t quite get her throat to open up for his entirety yet. After holding him there for a moment, his head scratching at the back of her throat, she pulls off. Heaving a sigh and continuing to work him with her hand, her now glassy eyes look at him. Saliva gathers at her mouth and Harry can’t help himself but reach one of his hands from behind him to her lips. He swipes at it and presses the wet to her lips which she sucks at eagerly, a whine hidden beneath the action.

When his hand pulls away she says, “You’re quite girthy.”

“Girthy?” He sputters, both at the funny comment but also that she’s said it while still jacking him off.

“Mhmm,” she nods seriously, “Couldn’t get you all in.”

“That’s alright,” he starts, but falters on a specifically masterful tug. She grins, knowing what she's doing to him. “You seem to excel, no matter the setbacks.”

“I’ll get it eventually,” she begins to speed up her strokes, “Just need a bit of practice.”

Then her lips are pressing back onto Harry’s prick. She sucks solely at his head and Harry moans out as he gets more sensitive. Then she slides down further and bops her head vigorously. She wants Harry to come undone for her just like she had for him. Make him feel like she had moments ago. And within a few more minutes of enthusiastic sucking and pumping of her hands, even some fondling of his balls which Harry had been extremely receptive to, she has him stuttering beneath her.

One hand gripping at her hair, while the other keeps him upright, Harry’s head is thrown back on his shoulders as he tries to keep his eyes open and trained on the girl taking him so well down her lovely little throat.

“I’m almost there, sweetheart,” he pants, his hips bucking up once as he begins to lose control.

This only spurs her forward, spit drooling down his cock every time she pulls back from his slightly. Her ass is high in the air now as she arches over his length, trying to get him to unload.

“Taking me so well,” Harry praises. “Fuck,” he exclaims at another squeeze of his balls.

She swirls her tongue around his runny head and then hollows her cheeks and sucks on him with everything she’s got. This has Harry cursing and repeating her name, his load spurting into her mouth as she stays still. His chest now covered in beads of sweat as he tries to catch his breath after tipping over the edge himself. His eyes are trained on her. She keeps her lips diligently around his cock, wanting to swallow everything he’s just expended. When he’s done, she pulls back and sits on her legs, swallowing quickly and staring at Harry as she does it.

His eyes bug at the sight. She was the hottest woman in the world and she’d just sucked him off so well that he’s pretty sure he saw stars. Then she made eye contact as she swallowed his cum with her pretty little bikini barely covering her anymore, as she seemed to shift slightly uncomfortable in her drying bottoms. God, he was fucked.

“Shit,” he says, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re an absolute angel.”

Harry’s family arrives the next day and the pair have a hard time keeping their hands off of each other. She doesn’t know why they decide to start this little game where they pretend like they don’t want to jump each other’s bones each minute of the day. But as the days go by, they maintain to his family and chosen family that they are only neighbours who became friends. Anne gives a knowing look to Gemma every so often and Gemma’s boyfriend whispers in her ear sometimes, but for the most part they buy it.

No one notices that some nights Harry’s or Y/N’s beds are vacant sometimes. They don’t see him descend his spiral staircase at midnight or see her scamper next to the pool and slip into her cottage in the wee hours of the morning.

In the nights, it’s Harry’s soft lips pressed against her hot skin, panting praise and leaving little bite marks that can’t be seen with clothes on. Her lips mouth at his shoulder when fills her up and she exhales a breath that feels like she’s been waiting to let go for her entire life. They make each other feel good and they don’t talk about it but the secrecy of it makes it all the more enticing.

At least that’s what she thinks. Harry had been completely ready to tell his family about him and Y/N, at least that things were new between them, but when she introduced herself to his mum and Gemma she had said she was a friend. Harry had gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing hard, taking in the change of direction and agreeing with Y/N immediately. “Just a friend” he confirmed with a nod of his head and glance at her. She had smiled wide and given a hug to the other most important women in his life like she’d known them forever.

He didn’t understand why she wanted it this way, but his objections would be forgotten when night fell and she’d do the things he’d only dreamt of. Her breathy whimpers and pliant body would all but wipe his mind of any other thoughts but her and then he had no complaints, just a wish for the night to never end.

Y/N doesn’t even tell Cate when she calls her a week into the trip. It’s just something she wants to keep to herself and Harry. Their own private world.

It’s Christmas Eve when that bubble pops. The Champagne has been flowing for hours non stop - well only stopping when a different drink is in their hands, whether that be red or white wine or a mixed drink Harry has decided to concoct.

In the big Italian house, he’s free of prying eyes and he’s able to truly spend quality time with his loved ones. They have fancy dinners at private restaurants, go on gorgeous hikes, swim, and relax. They have a good time with playing holiday games, which they do most nights when they stay in.

Tonight’s the first night that Harry and Y/N haven’t ended up on the same team. He fears that most times he cheats it by swapping a paper or two, but tonight the alcohol has fizzed his brain and he forgot. This shouldn’t be a problem, not really. Except that everyone in the house has learned over the past week and a half that besides being perfectly matched in almost everything else, Harry and her are both equally and extremely competitive. Being on the same team has both advantages and avoids squabbles like the one the house has found themselves in at half past 11.

Harry’s arguing that his team got the last question before the buzzer went off, but she won’t back down. She is sure that Gemma had said the correct answer, but after the timer had run out. Everyone else was too sauced to care, but Harry and her were adamant and passionate about game play. As the argument heats up, Anne gives Gemma another one of those looks.

Y/N has stood up and crossed the short distance to Harry. She’s a breath away from him and he puffs up his chest, his eyes dark and serious as he’s ready to fight for this win all night.

“The time was out,” she says simply, but her eyes are beginning to glower.

“No. It was not.” He states back.

His eyes narrow at her as she stares right back at him.

“Was too.”

“Was not.”

They go back and forth, rapid fire as the alcohol in their veins flows straight to their mind and hearts.

“Children please!” Gemma exclaims, finally growing tired of the bickering. “It’s Christmas. Harry show some spirit and let your guest have the final say.”

They think she’s done but then adds, “Or else she might never want to come back here.”

Harry exhales harshly through his nose as his gaze flickers to his older sister and listens to her scolding. Handing over the timer to Y/N, which had been what kept them from moving on, he turns on his heel and walks out of the room.

“Oh gosh,” Y/N says after a moment, her frazzled mind processing that Harry’s leaving has something to do with her. A hand goes to her lips for a moment, a ghost of his warm breath still there, but gone too soon.

“I’ll...I’ll be right back,” she confirms and exits the room, following Harry’s footsteps.

She finds him on his front porch step, his breath misting in the cold air, much like it would back in London when they’d walk the neighbourhood streets together.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she says, placing a hand on his left shoulder to really get his attention.

He turns from looking out at the clear night sky, his nose and cheeks already pinkened from the night breeze. His eyes are still dark out here, but there’s no malice or anger behind them. His lips tilt up on one side for a forgiving half smile, but there’s also some pain mixed in there.

“You wouldn’t not come back, right?” He asks helplessly, his smile faltering.

She swallows, taken aback by the question, both unsure of where it came from but also how exactly her drunk brain was supposed to respond with the double negatives.

“I’d come back next Christmas and the Christmas after that, Harry,” she whispers, “If you wanted me to of course.”

“Of course I’d want you to. I want you, sweetheart. All the time.” His voice isn’t slurred, but it’s raspy, a slight dry mouth from all the alcohol consumed tonight.

“Okay,” she confirms, “Then I’ll come back.”

They stand on the porch silently for a few minutes, eyes on one another, but no movement towards anything. It’s not a profound moment for their hazy minds, despite the meaning behind their words. It’s not quite clicking for them, but maybe tomorrow when they wake up with massive headaches it will register.

“I really am sorry,” she repeats when she sees little goosebumps begin to prick at his skin.

He had forgotten a jacket. And while his drunk blanket makes him immune to the feelings, her brain still registers that she doesn’t want him to get sick.

“S’alright. For what it’s worth, I was being a little childish. So, m’sorry too.” He says sincerely, maybe a little slurring of words slipping in.

He reaches a hand out of his pocket to touch at her upper arm. She can feel his warmth from beneath her thin long sleeve. They smile at one another and turn to reenter the house, feeling the giggly tide of alcohol wash over them again. Euphoria on their mind rather than family game malice.

Just as they’re about to open the door to the house. The two of them at the precipice of a house, a place they often find themselves, Gemma swings it open face and with little care for its heaviness. She glances between her brother and his “friend” and then up to the top of the door.

The top of the door? Why was she looking at the top of the door? Mistletoe.

“Mistletoe!” Gemma exclaims, pointing between the two of them. “You’re beneath the mistletoe, go on!”

Harry shakes his head in protest, falling onto the sword of friendship again. But then Y/N is grabbing at the back of Harry’s neck and pressing her lips to his. It’s a little sloppy, but Harry can’t help but enjoy the taste of her against him. They slot together like they usually do, but this time his sister is watching them, which is a little odd, but his muddled mind quickly forgets that fact. Her tongue is the deciding factor as it licks into his mouth and he licks back, pulling her closer by the waist. They get lost in the kiss and only pull apart when they hear a cough.

Gemma is now accompanied by the rest of the household watching them in disbelief. Everyone’s eyebrows are raised and even Rori is standing with the group, confused that the humans didn’t know they were doing this.

“Erm…” Harry has no idea what to say, shifting to face his family more fully.

Y/N blushes and shrinks into Harry’s chest, feeling like a teenager caught in the closet with her crush.

“That’s not how friend’s kiss one another,” someone murmurs.

There’s a few “I knew it”s mixed in as well with the rest of the chatter.

“Well…” She finally musters and throws a hand out to her side in a ta-da motion,

“Happy Christmas!”

After the revelation on Christmas Eve, everyone won’t stop teasing Harry and Y/N. The two laugh it off but something always nags at the back of their head. What they were to the other person. The status of this relationship. This friendship that had taken a turn to something else entirely.

It’s another Eve of a holiday when Harry finally musters up the courage to ask her directly. They learned from Christmas day that they couldn’t drink as much as they once did for multiple reasons. So on New Year’s Eve, they both choose to only consume a couple glasses of Champagne.

It starts with “Can we talk about us?” right after midnight. Right after Harry’s just started the New Year with her lips on his. She hears his question and takes it in, her stomach twisting with nerves and possibly excitement as well, and nods.

They slink off to his bedroom, but not for the activity everyone else was certain they were engaging in.

He sits them on the edge of the bed, both her hands clasped in one of his. He’s been quiet all day, she just realizes as he stays silent another moment longer.

“I love you,” he says in his dimly lit room.

Her jaw drops slightly, not quite expecting those three words yet.

“You don’t, don’t have to say anything yet. I just wanted you to know that,” he continues. “And that I want to be with you.”

“Harry,” she starts, breathless at his words.

“No,” he stops her again, “I felt something draw me to you the day you moved in across from me on Sherwood, like I was meant to know you or something. Then I met you and you made me feel so comfortable, all I wanted to do was be with you and that month when you didn’t really talk to me...dove, those weeks were wretched. But when I came back, it was like nothing happened and I was so happy because I couldn’t fathom life going back to the way it was before you. When we kissed, I felt overjoyed, I was so happy that you liked me like that because every time you called me friend...felt like a knife in me. I don’t want to be just your friend,” he pauses to say her name again, “I don’t want to be just your lover, I want to be your boyfriend or whatever they call it now - If you’ll have me.”

He takes a deep breath and blinks away the little well up of water that had grown in his eyes. He had forgotten to blink for a moment he realized.

His stare had been intense as he’d confessed all of his feelings to her, but she didn’t feel intimidated, his gaze had warmed her with its sincerity. It had strengthened his confession.

She sighed, her own eyes not as strong as his, unable to hold his gaze as she herself said her own confession.

His hand rests between them on the bed, steadying himself upright with it. She places her own hand over it and their fingers slightly intertwine. She feels him begin to fiddle with her fingers like usual. Like normal.

“Thank you,” she starts, “Of course I’ll have you. All the time, Harry.” She repeats his words from Christmas Eve back to him.

He starts to interject, the rambling thing, but she tugs at his pointer finger and he takes it as a sign to be quiet.

“I want to be your partner, too. I want it all with you, lover,” she gazes at him now, his free hand reaching up to caress her cheek in that moment. “Want it all,” she repeats in a whisper before he’s kissing her again.

Kissing her and kissing her. Over and over again. Because she was his. And he was hers. And it was a happy beginning. A happy new year and a happy new beginning of a relationship that was bound in friendship, born out of proximity, and nurtured by two kindred souls.

And it all started with her parents making her take her dog. Harry really needed to thank that dog for being the best wing man to ever run around on four legs.

Who knows who that new client of Y/N’s might be...

674 notes · View notes

itsallyscorner · 4 years ago

Note

Ooooh can I do positions with Sebastian Stan???

Omg hi!!!🖤 Thank you sm for the request, I hope you like it!🥰

Thank you for the requests!! And thank you for the support love! I hope you enjoy this and my other requests (which I need to do soon)!🖤🥰 @its-izzys

💌.

positions

a/n: Decided to switch it up for this one and made the song about Seb’s feelings towards the reader:)

warnings: Some smut for you filthy animals😉

Heaven sent you to me

I'm just hopin’ I don't repeat history

It has been known that Sebastian has poor judgement in romantic partners. Now, that doesn’t apply to everyone he’s dated but there are a few who were just out of line. Everyone knew he wasn’t the best at relationships. His family, friends, heck even his fans could see through the facade of his so called “girlfriends”. He could never tell the difference between someone who’s using him and someone who genuinely liked him. Sebastian was one to be intoxicated with his feelings and loses himself in the moment. Which was probably why he never found anything wrong with the ‘candid’ paparazzi pictures or the constant posting of proof that someone was with him.

You were different from all the other girls he had dated. You were like Spring to his Winter. You symbolized a new beginning for him. Like how Spring would mark the beginning of a new season with its blossoming flowers and the awakening of animals, you brought liveliness to his cold and dark life. You actually terrified him to the core. He was afraid to fall for you because you were well off on your own. In his head you didn’t need him, but he needed you. You kept the grown man on his toes and without you he was not sure how he would survive.

Unlike the other girls, he was scared to loose you. Not only were you the most loyal, selfless, kindest, and caring person he knew. But he knew you genuinely loved him for him. He knew that you could care less about the fame, his social status, or the money. You wanted him for him. You wanted him at his worst, at his best, all parts of him. And it terrifies him that he could fuck it all up in an instant and loose you completely. If that happened he wouldn’t know what to do because he’s never experienced a love like yours. Compared to the others, he wasn’t going to repeat history and make stupid decisions, this time he was going to try and not fuck it up.

Boy, I'm tryna meet your mama on a Sunday

Then make a lotta love on a Monday (Ah, ah)

Never need no (No), no one else, babe

’Cause I'll be

Sebastian would do anything to make you happy. Seeing that contagious smile on your face always gave him butterflies in his stomach that made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“Hey Sebba?” You asked as you knocked on the wall of his home office one day. Sebastian’s eyes leave the script he had been reading for the past hour and a half as he turned to your figure leaning against the doorframe. You were cladded in one of his sweatshirts and a pair of those biker shorts that made your bum look incredible.

“How was your nap, draga?” He was about to get up from his swivel chair when you motioned for him to stay. You settled yourself onto his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck.

Resting your cheek against his head you began to play with the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck.

“It was good. Except someone wasn’t there when I woke up.” You softly answered as Sebastian pressed light kisses along your neck.

“The bed was cold without you.” You frowned against his hair. The scent of his shampoo filling up your senses.

“I’m sorry, I got excited when the script came and I couldn’t help myself.” He apologized as his squeezed your hips.

“Yeah, I know.” You chuckled as you leaned back to look down at him. He stared up at you with those ocean eyes that you just wanted to constantly dive into.

“Oh! I forgot to ask you.” You jumped in his lap as you remembered the text your mother had sent you earlier that morning. Sebastian nods at you, “What’s up?”

He saw how you slightly shrunk into your body and how your arms unwrapped around him so you can fiddle with your fingers. A little tic you had when you were either nervous or embarrassed. Sebastian comfortingly pressed his large warm hand against your back as the other took one of your hands into his.

“So...um. My mom’s birthday is during the weekend and we’re planning on having a dinner party with the family.” You started as you looked at your and Sebastian’s connected hands.

“My mom said she’d like it if you came along. She wants to finally meet you and she thinks the rest of the family would too.” You finished as you glanced up at him.

You were quick to tell him that it was his choice. You didn’t want to pressure him into suddenly meeting your family. Though it would be nice for him to finally meet everyone, you had to respect whether he was ready or not.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’d love to come!” He immediately agreed, a wide smile on his face that made the sides of his eyes crinkle. Your head snaps up to him in shock. You were expecting to find a playful glint in his eyes but it was nothing but sincerity and joy.

“Wait, you want to meet my family?”

“Of course I do, draga. It’s your family we’re talking about! They’re the most important people in your life and it’d be an honor to meet all of them.” He explained as he gripped both of your hands. Sebastian felt himself smile when he saw the corners of your lips raise to your cheeks.

“You have no idea how much this means to me, Seb. Thank you!” You excitedly wrapped your arms around him again pulling him into a suffocating hug. You felt his chest vibrate against yours as he chuckled.

He hummed as he savored the feeling of your limbs wrapped around him and how elated he felt when you were around him. Wrapping his arms around your figure he mumbled into your ear, “Plus, I should finally thank your parents for creating the love of my life.”

Switchin' them positions for you

Cookin' in the kitchen and I'm in the bedroom

I'm in the Olympics, way I'm jumpin' through hoops

Know my love infinite, nothin’ I wouldn’t do

That I won't do, switchin’ for you

The aroma of spices lingered around the house after the delicious dinner Seb had cooked. You guys decided to have an at home date night since the two of you weren’t in the mood to get all dressed up for a restaurant. Plus Sebastian had just gotten back from the airport after months on end of filming in Atlanta.

The two of you were now out on the balcony of your shared apartment sipping on glasses of wine. The two of you looked out towards the city as you leaned against Sebastian’s chest. There wasn’t much talking, just the sounds of the city and each other’s breathing.

“Thank you for dinner. Although, it should’ve been me cooking for you, because you literally just came back from filming.” You turn around in his arms as you admire the man in front of you.

“No, I wanted to cook for you. You’ve been so understanding with my job and the hectic schedules. Plus we had to be apart for so long, I owe you.” Sebastian explained as he moved a strand of hair from your face.

You shook your head at him, “You don’t owe me anything, Seb. You’re just doing your job and I understand that.”

“No, I do. I get that we had our night time calls and FaceTime sessions but it just isn’t the same as being in person with you.” He started.

“You’ve been so supportive and patient with me. While I’ve left you waiting here for so long.” He shook his head at himself before looking down at you. His blue eyes now dark with longing and lust. He leaned down to brush his nose against yours. His plush lips leaving a lingering kiss on your own.

“Let me take care of you, (y/n).”

Perfect, perfect

You're too good to be true (You're too good to be true)

But I get tired of runnin', fuck it

Now, I’m runnin' with you (With you)

Sebastian laid you down gently on the cool comforter of the bedroom. The atmosphere around you two felt heavy as your lips clashed together with desperation and passion. Though the months of not seeing each other were miserable, it began to all feel worth it when you felt his touch for the first time again.

Your hands roamed his body, only stopping when they were hovering over his sweatpants, where a bulge was starting to form. Sebastian pulled away from your lips and took your hand, placing it to rest along his shoulder.

“No, don’t worry about me. This is about you, I just want to focus on you.” His voice was soft and quiet compared to the events that were about to go down between you two.

He gazed down at you for a moment before his palm came up to rest against your cheek. He latched his lips onto yours, nipping at your bottom lips to grant his tongue access into your mouth. Your tongues poked and licked against each other. The heat below you was getting hotter and hotter, making your heartbeat race and a thin layer of sweat to form on your body.

Sebastian moved on to kiss along your jaw and neck. He stopped at your neck, nipping and sucking on the skin until a mark began to form. He helped you take your shirt off, throwing it aside to land on the floor. He watched as your breasts bounced in your red lace bra as you landed on your back again. He sucked in his breath as he looked at you through hooded eyes.

“Take this off, Sebby.” You voice was low with sultry as your nails teasingly dragged on his abs. He yanked his shirt off and threw it to the side. He dived down to claim your lips again, his hands running down to grip your thighs and wrap them around his torso. He ground down on you causing you to softly moan as his clothed crotch pressed down on your mound.

His mouth teased your nipples through your bra. He grazed his teeth along the lace material before sucking on your clothed nipple. He repeated the same action on your other nipple. You pulled on his soft hair as you watched him concentrate on pleasuring you. Your nipples were now peaking against the lace, wanting to be freed from the material. One of his hands flatten on your back and fiddle with the bra until it comes undone. His warm tongue attaches to your breast as soon as they’re exposed, giving them both the attention they needed.

He helps you take your shorts off before removing his sweats. He shifts himself so he’s laying in between your legs with your soaking heat in front of him. You feel his breath against your core causing goosebumps to form on your arms and legs.

“Draga I could smell you all the way here. I’ve been making you wait for too long, huh?” His voice teased you with hints of dominance. He enjoyed the effects he had on you. The way you instantly opened your legs for him and how he was the only one who could make you dripping wet without even doing anything.

You nodded against the pillow and looked down at him. A smirk was on his lips as his nose swiped along your clothed slit. He pressed a searing kiss above your mound as his eyes remained connected to yours.

“Who made you this wet, baby?” He asked huskily against your heat. He felt you clench around nothing as he kissed the wet lace that covered your pussy.

“You did, Seb.” You breathed out.

“Damn right I did.” He pulled your panties off you, the cold air meeting your heat. His mouth was agape as he was met with your heat glistening with arousal. He moaned at the sight and stuffed his face between your thighs. You let out a moan as your eyes fluttered shut.

His tongue flattened against your folds until he found your bud. His mouth latched onto it, sucking and licking at your clit. You emitted a moan, your back arching, as his mouth helped release the tension that was building up in you. He hummed in approval as he brought his fingers to spread your wetness through your folds. His finger teased your entrance before it smoothly slipped in. Sebastian groaned as he felt you clench down on his finger. He moved his finger in and out until he felt you ease up around him. He added a second finger stretching you out a bit more. He made a come hither motion with his fingers as they rubbed against your walls. When his fingers began hitting a familiar spongy area, your toes curled as you hips rutted against him.

He wrapped an arm around your waist to hold you down. You were a mess above him. One of your hands gripping the sheets as the other pulled on his hair. Your head was thrown back, your hair sticking to your face as you moaned at the immense pleasure Sebastian was giving you.

“I can feel you. C’mon baby, cum on my fingers.” He rasped out before his tongue flicked rapidly at your bud. Your knees had came up to your chest as the tension in your body had reached a peak. With the harsh and fast movements from his tongue and fingers, you came with a loud choking moan as your body trembled above him. Your cum spilling all over his hand. Sebastian licked you clean as you came down from your high. He kissed your thighs before coming up to rest his forehead against yours.

“I missed the taste of you. Missed you so much.” He muttered as he licked his fingers. He left some of your cum on his fingers so you can have a taste of yourself. You sucked on his fingers until they were clean of your juice.

Sebastian pressed a sweet kiss to your lips as he lined himself up with you. One hand interlocked with yours while the other led his cock into your sensitive entrance.

“Te iubesc.” He said as he pushed himself into you. Your breath hitched as your walls hugged onto his length. You were filled with him to the brim. You felt the veins along his length and the weight of him in you.

“Si eu te iubesc.” You whimpered as he pushed even deeper into you. His eyes intensely locked onto yours as his hips rocked back and forth. His cock pushing in and out of you. He was dizzy with the feeling of you around him. You were like a drug and he was addicted to you. Everything about you was perfect. He fit into you like a puzzle piece, like you were meant for him, and he didn’t need anyone else. Just you.

This some shit that I usually don't do (Yeah)

But for you, I kinda, kinda want to (Mmm)

'Cause you're down for me and I'm down too

Sebastian would do anything for you. If he could, he would take you around the world to show you new places that you’ve been dreaming of visiting. He wasn’t afraid to show you off. Of course, he was private when it came to your relationship, but when he had the chance to show you off he always took it. He was proud to take you to premieres and introduce you to his friends and co-stars. Everyone could see how deeply in love he was with you. They’ve never seen him so entranced with someone. From the way he looked at you to how his hand was always protectively on you.

Sebastian thanked his lucky stars as he watched you lean against the balcony railing of the hotel you two were staying at in Paris. You were watching the city below you as the wind blew against your hair. The sun shined on you enhancing your natural glow. You looked so relaxed and carefree as if you’ve never had experience a day of stress in your life. He saw a small smile on your face as your fingers skimmed the rail.

You turned around to see Sebastian sitting on a chair inside the bedroom. He was staring at you, a dreamy look on his face. You smiled at him and giggled.

“Get over here and look at the city with me.” You motioned for him to come over as you held your hand out for him. He got up and took your hand, bringing it up to press a kiss on your knuckles. You turned around to lean against his chest as his buff arms wrapped around your figure. His head rested on your shoulder, pressing kisses against the bare skin every few minutes.

He could stay there for eternity. You in his arms as you both silently watched the hues of pink, purple, and orange take over the sky in Paris. You were all he needed, it didn’t matter where he was, he just needed to have you with him.

draga ~ darling

te iubesc ~ I love you

si eu te iubesc ~ I love you too

#ally’s 700 celebration #ally’s requests #marvel #mcu #avengers #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan oneshot #sebastian stan headcanons #sebastian stan drabble #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #Bucky barnes #Bucky barnes x reader #Bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier

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thisnoodlewritesao3 · 4 years ago

Text

Once Upon A Dream | Kyoutani Kentarou/Reader

Characters: Kyoutani Kentarou, Reader, Aoba Johsai Club Members

Pairing: Kyoutani Kentarou/Reader

Genre: Fluff, just happy fluffy times

Warnings: I don’t think there are any, but if you see any, tell me please!

Word Count: 2111

Summary: For almost 3 years, Kyoutani had seen glimpses of your life in his dreams. It was his favourite part of the day. So, when you move to Miyagi, he's far too excited to meet you. Only, he doesn't know your name or your what you look like. And what's a soulmate supposed to do when you go silent at school?

A/N: This has sort of been shoddily thrown together to help me get out of my weird funk lately, but I like it, so sue me. UwU. Check it out, I posted it on AO3 too (here)

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

Kyoutani hated school. Not for any other reason than the fact that the people just annoyed him - much less the fact that he wasn’t particularly good at his - his grades could attest to that. Sure, he loved volleyball, and that might’ve been his favourite part of the day; except his favourite part was sleeping. That was because during the times of slumber, he could see glimpses of what happened during his soulmates day - what happened during your day.

He’d never admit to anyone how happy it made him. He’d do anything to learn everything about you.

At this point, he was sure he knew just about everything about you. Most nights you’d feign studying to your mom - you’d always end up watching far too many episodes of the latest anime that had you hooked - even so, you somehow had almost perfect grades. Every time you were in lessons, you took notes effortlessly, though he only ever saw those notes during class. When you weren’t watching anime, you were writing, listening to music far too loud; a thousand playlists that he could never wrap his head around - he was never sure how you’d managed to memorise where one song in each playlist was all because it took you too much effort just to like it. You couldn’t sing very well, that didn’t seem to stop you - he thought the same about your dancing - but something about seeing a section of that from your day always made him extra happy in the morning. You got along well with your mom, most of those clips you were laughing about something incomprehensible. You seemed to get along with a lot of people, though your closest friends were a pair of twins by the names of Anaka and Anoko. You lived in Tokyo, which hurt his heart far too much than he’d admit.

The one thing that irked him was your dislike for sports, you put in little effort to gym every time. Waking up after those clips of your day were his least favourite thing - he’d even put school before that.

Despite the fact he knew everything about you, or as much as he could, there were two things he didn’t know: your name or your face. He hated that so much. It was as if you never looked at your reflection, or took any pictures of yourself. He had a basic idea of what your hair looked like, but most of the time the strands were out of his vision.

From what he could tell, you were in the year below him; it wasn’t that that particularly mattered to him, it just meant he’d been seeing your life for a year longer than you’d been seeing his life. For the almost three years that he’d been able to see you, you’d barely had two years.

One night, a week before he’d be transitioning into his second year, he’d dreamt of you:

The world zipped by through the car window; you rested your elbow on the door hands, leaning your head into your open palm, forehead pressed against the glass. The view wasn’t one he was used to seeing, it looked more like the countryside rather than the cityscapes; a gentle wave of sadness mused inside of you.

“I know it’s going to be a lot to get used to-”

“You have no idea…” you cut off your mother, not even bothering to glance in her direction. Sadness was replaced with an eruption of aggression. You hid it, opting to clench your fist. Your jaw tightened so much that it ached.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Her voice was soft. You let out a soft sigh, nodding slowly. “I mean, you were so happy when you found out what high school he went to. Although, even the idea that you’re going to meet your soulmate won’t take away from the fact we’re leaving behind…” she paused, grip tightening on the steering wheel.

You finally tilted your head to look at her. Something swirled in the pit of your stomach and you reached out, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

There weren’t any more words needed between the two of you. It was easy.

Kyoutani woke up, running his hand through his short hair. That felt different than normal. He couldn’t explain it, not well, at least. And what had your mom said about meeting your soulmate? None of it made sense. Did you actually move to an entirely new place? Why?

It frustrated him more than it was worth.

----

Weeks passed and nothing.

Kyoutani had hoped for something, anything. There hadn’t even been a single sight of you in person. He saw you in his dreams; in class, your stare would be focused out of the window intently; you were quiet, rarely interacting with your classmates. You looked at them with such an indifference.

He loved the days when he could see you at home; you did your usual song and dance, but this time you had a small puppy at home. You’d shower it with endless affection. You didn’t seem to watch as much anime before - he even saw you studying sometimes - but the joy in his heart when he listened to you lazily sing an opening was unfiltered and so pure.

He still had yet to see your face, to hear your name.

At the start of volleyball practise, Oikawa announced that the team would be getting a manager - as long as things went well with them, that is. Most of them were confused, Kyoutani included, until Iwaizumi explained that unlike the others, and there had been so many others, this girl wasn’t interested in Oikawa in the slightest - in fact, she didn’t even know who he was. Kindaichi confirmed this, since she talked to him about this.

Out of nowhere, a girl appeared at the door, she seemed frazzled. Completely in a daze. By that point, Kyoutani had zoned out, choosing to focus on literally anything else.

He missed the looks she gave him the entire practise.

----

Sleep could not come sooner for him. He wondered what you were seeing right now, if you were even asleep; he wanted to know so badly what you thought of him, how you felt, he wanted to see your face. Just once. That was all, if he saw your face just once, he would be happy.

----

Time passed and still nothing. He hated it. He hated how close you were to him, yet how out of reach. Things didn’t change much. You were still as quiet as ever in class; you were still as loud as ever at home. He memorized each word you spoke like it was gospel, because what if you just happened to talk near him one day? How else was he supposed to recognise you if it weren’t for your voice?

He didn’t learn much about the new manager. She was quiet, too quiet. She agreed to things too quickly and acted like she would break. Because of that, everyone treated her like she was going to.

He had caught her staring at him a few times, something that pissed him off because he didn’t want her, he wanted his soulmate. Wherever she was…

If he were being honest, he’d really tried his hardest to find her. No one in particular caught his eyes. He searched every first year classroom several times a week to make sure that he had never missed anyone on any particular day, the idea that you could be somewhere else other than right there hurt him. He looked at the desk where you normally sat. Every time he went it was empty. It sucked.

Oikawa only noticed his mood get more foul as time went on - even managing to hold off on commenting about it considering how he looked like he might actually kill someone.

One night, during his dream, it felt like all the pieces finally fell together.

You stared down at the ground- were you wearing sneakers? -rubbing your thumbs together nervously. There was light conversation in the background. He couldn’t make out a lot of what was being said. Not until you stepped towards a bench, grabbing a vibrant yellow water bottle. “Thanks, L/N!” Kindaichi’s voice chimed, puffing out his chest. He was dripping with sweat.

You gave him a half smile before your eyes wandered around. This sight had become a typical one for you, watching the volleyball club running around and practising. Your eyes land on someone in particular and your heart races, although it doesn’t last long, not until he turns and meets your eyes, glaring.

Maybe you just had your hopes too high; he clearly wasn’t interested in having a soulmate. You turned your head away quickly. Giving him a side glance. “Oh Kyou…” you muttered, turning away.

Kyoutani shot up awake. Never had his body been more alert in the morning. The volleyball manager hadn’t just been some girl, but it had been you? All this time you never said a word to him about it, and he had just glared at you like you were nothing.

It made him sick. The idea that he had been hurting you.

Never had he rushed to get dressed faster. Never had he been so excited to go to school. His uniform was haphazardly tossed onto his body, he almost forgot his bag. Everything felt heightened. The wind was hitting his face harder than normal - that might’ve been because he was sprinting - the ache in his legs was nothing compared to the excitement in his heart. The closer he got to the gym, the more nervous he became.

“You’re here early…” Yahaba snickered - normally Kyoutani would have threatened the brunette, but not today. His eyes were almost frantic as he changed into his gym clothes, darting around like there was something big he was waiting for. Because there was something big he was waiting for. That was you. For you to finally appear. So that he-

“Good morning, L/N!” Kindaichi cheered towards the door of the gym, waving frantically at you. You smiled and offered him a small wave before yawning, glancing towards Kyoutani. When you met his eyes, you seemed to pause mid-yawn, tears building up in your eyes.

He walked over to you. Not really knowing what he was going to say. Not really knowing what he wanted to say. Just knowing that he needed to be next to you. To talk to you. To hear your voice again, right now, right in front of him.

When he stopped in front of you, you almost seemed scared, sucking in a deep breath and leaning back slightly. You averted your eyes, not wanting to upset him in any way. He didn’t move, not an inch. His eyes danced over you, examining every part of your face that he hadn’t been taking the time to examine. This was his first time actually seeing you.

“Beautiful…” it slipped out before he could do anything to stop it. A warmth rushed to your cheeks as you smiled awkwardly, looking away from him.

“Um… thank you… Kyou…” The look on your face could only be described as elated, even as you avoided his eyes, you knew he meant it.

All of the other members looked at you confused, trying to understand what Kyoutani had said that had made you so flustered. That was quickly washed away when he grabbed your chin, lifted your head up and smashed his lips against yours.

Your eyes shot open wide, body frozen before you seemed to collapse. His arm caught you, holding you against him with such a need that it was destroying you. When he pulled away, the gym erupted into screams.

“Took you long enough.” You muttered, gently punching his chest.

“I… I never saw your face before-”

“You see it every day?” You tilted your head.

“No. I mean… t-this…”

“Oh…” He didn’t need to explain. You knew exactly what he meant, “I don’t really like my own reflection. So I just… avoid it?” An awkward laugh slipped out.

“But you’re beautiful.” He caressed your cheek, such a softness in his eyes that you didn’t know he was capable of.

“Can someone explain what just happened?” Kindaichi yelled, eyes darting between both of you as you shared such a tender moment.

“That’s what a pair of soulmates looks like,” Oikawa mused, wrapping his arm around the first year, “well, at least she’s cute. Sucks she has such a… strange soulmate.”

Kyoutani slipped away and pounced on the setter.

You simply laughed at them.

After all this time, you’d finally met him.

--------

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#kyoutani x reader #kyoutani kentaro x reader #kyoutani fluff #fluff #kyoutani kentarou #soulmates #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu writing #hq #hq x reader #hq kyoutani #hq writing #my writing #thisnoodlewrites

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shotofire · 4 years ago

Note

hello ! hru ? plz if you dont mind, levi ackerman x reader (modern) doing to him "wipe away kisses prank", they're watching tv, his girlfriend kiss his lips then wipe it away acting like nothing happend xd thank you take care of yourself 🖤🖤

Hi!!! I’m great! Awe this is such a cute idea! and i’ve been wanting to write a modern fic. thank you so much for requesting my sweet! <3 you take care of yourself as well :p I sorta changed up the prank part a bit but it’s the same concept, I hope you enjoy.

•MODERN!LEVI x F!READER

•Warnings: cursing here and there, very very very slight mentions of smut

•Season: Not set within the show

Levi Ackerman wasn’t big on affection. So when he starting dating (y/n) it was a huge surprise for everyone. She had to be the most touchy person on the face of the Earth. Hugging people was a hobby of hers, and she liked to poke peoples sides for the fun of it.

The first time he’d met her was at a gathering Hanji had dragged him to with a few friends. The last thing he wanted to have to do was make small talk with some people he worked with. He was taken aback when a girl he’d never seen before was coming up to him with a sweet smile and arms open wide.

It was obvious that Levi acted different around her. Someone would do something little as put their arm around his shoulder and he’d flinch away. Then someone like her wrapped their arms around his middle and Hanji literally gasped out loud when he hugged (y/n) back.

After months went by of him seeing her at friend events, he asked her out on a proper date. The man hasn’t dated since he was in his early twenties so this was a game changer for him. No one saw the pair getting together, they were polar opposite.

That’s why Levi took such a liking to the women. She was nothing like him and it kept him interested. Everything she did was out of the kindness of her heart, and she was very into speaking her mind. Levi usually just said a simple sentence that was somewhat insulting and went about his day.

(y/n) on the other gave entire speeches of exactly what she was thinking, and wasn’t scared to call somebody out. He admired how big she was on helping anyone that she could. He didn’t even have to worry if the kindness was an anterior motive, he knew she didn’t like seeing people down.

“Are you judging me?” She had asked one day at a table full of their closest friends.

His eyes had narrowed at her question. They hadn’t talked very much at this point, but it was the moment that really drew Levi in. He looked around at everyone else at the table and they were already snickering under their breaths. The whole group thought he found her annoying but it was the complete opposite.

Everything she did had him in a trance. She kept him entertained with everything she said, but it’s understandable why she felt he had a disliking for her. The man never talked unless spoke too, but that was just how he worked. Though (y/n) took it rather personally because she found herself easy to talk to, and she’d never met someone so observant and quiet.

“No, if I did i’d make it obvious,” he had answered with his arms crossed.

She smiled at his words. In a way she found them sweet instead of rude. She was one of the few people who could understand his real meaning behind his words.

“Good,” she said proudly, “cause I would hate for a cutie like you to find me annoying.”

Levi’s mouth had fallen open at her words. Never in his life had someone called him a cutie, maybe when he was a child but not anytime in his adult life. The way her eyes sparkled as she watched his flustered reaction made him realize he liked this girl a lot. That was the night he’d first asked her on a date, and things escalated from there.

(y/n) was different and he liked it. Most people didn’t say straightforward things to him because they were scared for his reaction. But she wasn’t in anyway frightened by him. She actually found it kind of funny that the group find him so scary at times. Sure she could admit his gaze would be rather intimidating at times but that’s the worst it got to her.

He first took her out to eat at a sushi place and she literally squealed when they walked in the door. He couldn’t even hold back the laughter at her excitement, and that was the fist time she had heard his sweet laugh. She’d seen him smile plenty of time, but the fact she got him to go further than that only boosted her confidence.

They had sat there for hours talking about the most random things. (y/n) had never heard Levi spill so much information at once and she was absolutely living for it. She still couldn’t believe the quiet mystery guy of her friend group found interest in her.

“Did you know your quietness makes you more intriguing to me,” she had said with a blush on her cheeks, “It makes me want to get to know you more than anyone i’ve ever met.”

He nervously chuckled at her words and took another bite of sushi. That was the first time in the night he had kinda gone quiet. She began to worry she’d embarrassed him somehow and started to think too much. He noticed her manner change pretty quickly.

“I’m glad i’m interesting to you, no ones ever been interested in me,” he had said with a quiet voice.

She smiled softly, “You’re too pretty to not be interested in.”

That was the first day she had seen Levi blush so hard. She was also the first person to call him pretty. He had nervously ran his fingers through his hair with a slight chuckle. This women truly was something else and he found peace in her mannerism. He liked the way he felt when he was with her, and he had no plan on letting her go.

“You’re gorgeous,” he’d said on their next date which was a picnic.

It was (y/n)’s idea of course, she wanted to do something different. She told him she already had an idea for another date if he was interested, and of course he was. She smiled brightly at his words, even though she had just taken a bite of her sandwich. The sweet moment made her wonder what their friend group would say about this alternative Levi they had yet to meet.

After a few more weeks he’d invited her to his apartment. There was no alternate motive behind the invite, he just wanted to cook for her. She had told him many times she was a ‘slut for spaghetti,’ which made him laugh harder than he had in years. When he told her he wanted to make her food she absolutely insisted that she get the pleasure of watching.

He didn’t expect her to ask something like that but she was persistent with the question so he allowed it. She’d asked about a million questions as he made it, and everyone who knew him would be surprised to know he found joy in her constant talking. He was so used to silence, but her sweet voice always filled the air and made him feel whole.

When (y/n) had literally moaned as she took a bite of the spaghetti his stomach did a flip. The sound was beautiful and he thought about the day he’d get to hear it over and over again. Though, Levi was in no rush whatsoever. He was an extremely patient man and valued taking things slow. The two had been seeing one another for almost three months now and the most that had happened is hand holding and cuddling.

After dinner (y/n) suggested a movie. Of course she insisted on something romantic, she valued the cliche of it. Levi agreed but wasn’t as excited as she was. But seeing her eyes light up as he said yes was way better than any movie they could watch.

Now Levi sat on the couch with (y/n)’s arms wrapped around his waist and head on his lap. The sight was very heartwarming and he wanted to take a picture of how beautiful she looked, but he decided not too. Sure she had taken many pictures of him and with him but he was still scared she’d find it weird.

She felt his eyes on her and moved her hands from around him so she could lay flat on her back. She raised an eyebrow at him and smirked.

“Do you find me better to watch than the movie?”

A shock ran through him at your straightforward question. She always did things like this to him on purpose. Making his stern self flustered had to be one of her greatest powers. She reaches up to touch his soft hair and he shivers slightly from her cold hand.

The room fell silent and the air began to change. (y/n) gulped at the the feeling and turned her attention back to the movie, acting as if nothing had just happened. He frowned when she did this. Did she not want to kiss him?

That wasn’t the case, though. She wanted to kiss him more than anything. Hell, she wanted to do a lot of things with him. One would think she was straight forward in every department, but not when it comes to kissing. The last time she kissed someone her tooth went into their lip on accident and embarrassed the hell out of her.

She felt Levi’s body become sluggish when she turned away. In that moment (y/n) decided to get over her fear. After all he was different, they had a whole different story line. Her last failed hookup wasn’t anything compared to the bond her and Levi had created.

(y/n) sat up quickly and Levi almost jumped at her sudden action. He turned his head to look at her, and was about to ask what the matter was, but her lips were already being pressed against his. Warmness filled both of their bodies and the softness of her lips were addicting. But as soon as it started, it ended.

He almost whined when she pulled away, then her hand dragged across his lips, and he was beyond confused. Her attention was turned back to the television as if nothing had happened. As if they didn’t just kiss for the first time and she hadn’t just tried to wipe it away.

“Why did you just do that?” he asked confused, but he couldn’t help but smile a bit at her. She was hard to figure out and understand sometimes, but this was different. Was she embarrassed?

“Do what? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said without even looking at him.

The man had never seen her act this way. He found it funny honestly. (y/n) had never been afraid or reluctant to do something. He guessed he had found her weak spot.

“Oh yes you do,” he said with a laugh, “you think wiping away the kiss is gonna change something? Cause I still want to kiss you again.”

She gulped at his words, “really?”

Levi had never seen her so flustered and red faced. She was an absolute mess of nerves right now and he loved it. He had no idea he could have this type of effect on her. She did everything with confidence and zero fear yet a simple kiss had her second guessing everything.

“Really,” he whispers, and this time she’s the one who’s stomach flips.

His lips reattached to hers and she melts at his touch. Lips move against one another softly and slowly, enough to make her head spin. Delicate fingers squeeze at her waist and she makes a slight noise at the feeling.

That’s when Levi grabs her hips and pulls her on top of him, and the once sweet kiss begins to intensify.

Kissing Levi was already becoming one of her favorite things to do, and they were just getting started.

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lost-on-kamino · 3 years ago

Text

Records

Are you R3DY? In which Olly wants to know where Rhythm has been running off to. (This one was a bunch of Fun due to inspirations a plenty for both Olly and Rhythm. But mostly because I could see Rhythm wanting do a little more with his life... He’s here to have fun after all :) There will also be a picture along too~) <(Chapter 2) (Chapter 4)> Olly had enough. He was going to discover where his Kih’vod was running off too, to the point where Rhythm would be climbing through the window of the Barracks like a schoolboy rushing in from an illegal party.Not to mention the Glowsticks tangled in his hair, and the one time he accidently inhaled one. The medics hadn’t been happy about that. It had been a few months since their meeting and Olly was somewhat used to the energetic clone. Somewhat.It reminded him of his own Batchmates as it turned out the two had shared some similarities with their closer brothers.And even with Rhythm’s insistence of helping Olly get over his fear, Olly knew that was just how Rhythm was.

Though his first suspicions over Rhythm doing shifty things was when he paid for caf beans for the caf machine. The Clones didn’t get paid and Rhythm had offered to collect it on his patrol shift. Olly had noticed the credits slipped into his belt pouch but didn’t want to press the clone as the Guard had quickly descended on their machine for the one thing that kept them running through the night.

The second incident had been of course, Rhythm returning at odd points of the night with said glow sticks. He would have dragged Olly to 79s, even if he wasn’t allowed near the Alcohol section; so it wasn’t that either. Then there was Rhythm asking the other Guardsmen about their taste in music, making notes.

People had put down to it being Rhythm and his ever continuous search for musical enjoyment, but Olly had gotten to know Rhythm’s quirks. The slight twitch of his lip to show curiosity which meant he was up to something.

But Olly hadn’t been able to question his younger brother over his odd actions of the last weeks, the two had been on opposite patrols; that or Rhythm had just not been around.

His fellow turtles had decided Olly seemed a bit wound up and had offered to take him out during their rare leave. A night on Coruscant as it were.

Olly had finally agreed and this was where he found himself. He’d find out what Rhythm is up to eventually, though an odd feeling in his gut said otherwise.

The night had been going well. The group of Riot Troopers had swarmed the bars, slowly filling out as they finally joined a queue for a Venue. Olly had been told that this club had been pretty popular during certain nights, but again it would depend on his taste of music. He and Rhythm had been comparing songs one sleepless night as Rhythm strumming the Banjo in the quiet common room, away from the barracks. He much preferred lullabies than the noise and mess that Rhythm seemed to be fond of, EDM and all the louder ones… He shook his head before following his brothers within and into the depths. The music was pounding. Noisy, the lights were bright. Olly squinted as he looked around, his brothers managing to snatch a table from a Ruurian and Nat-born who glanced over tiredly and shook their heads. The Ruurian grumbled before shuffling off towards the back as the Nat-born shifted into a Clone suddenly, sticking their tongue out before reverting into a Twi’lek form. Curious… Must be a Clawdite, Olly thought to himself. Someone to keep an eye on. Something Olly could describe as Electro was playing with some words in the background. As I fell to the ocean floor

Feeling light through an open door

Saw myself rise with the water

Olly sat down quietly as his eyes followed one of his brothers as they went off to the counter to grab drinks for the night. The riot trooper sat back as his other brothers spread out among the crowd. Some get onto the dance floor to join in the electronic beat while others start ordering their rounds with the little credits they have. Olly’s attention turns towards the DJ of the group… He pauses.

They thought they could keep me down,

Hold their breath and watch me drown,

But all they did has pushed me higher.

The DJ has a helm, jacket zipped up and going wild.

But Olly knows a brother when he sees one… And puts his head in his hands. So that’s where he’s been. We don't care what they say

We will be here all day

We'll stay here till it's over It’s Rhythm. This is where he’s been running off to… He’s not sure about the helmet, though it seems to control where the music flows into the deck. It seems completely made up, as if to hide his identity, which is smart due to some establishments not taking to Clones unlike 79s. Olly eyes the tip jar which seems to have a slow stash of credits… Maybe that's where he gets paid… At least Rhythm wasn’t doing something too off. Till the world's out of sight

We will stand

We will fight

It's not over till it's over --A month Ago-- Rhythm was walking along the streets, Lenta humming softly as she went through the market town. The Clone had his scarf up as his eyes looked around the town. Vite was holding on tightly as Lenta’s newest edition: Agi was bundled tightly to her mother’s chest. It had been a shock with Agi’s sudden arrival… But thankfully, Pitch had been with him visiting and the Clone Medic had helped deliver the young Twi’lek safely. This is what had set him on his path to become a Midwife or at least focus into it after the war. After taking lives, to bring them into the world would be the highest honour. “Rhythm?” Lenta spoke up as Rhythm jolted slightly. “Ah sorry-” “Ree was overthinking again!” Vite chuckles as Rhythm goes red. “Well I didn't mean to… I was just… I guess thinking about things.” “Well I was asking what fruit you’d like to take back to your siblings.” Lenta explained as she looked over. “I know you wouldn’t mind sharing but I need an answer.” “R-Right… The berries last time were nice…” Lenta nods before moving over to ask for a punnet of berries. Vite watched his mother before turning to watch the crowd, nudging Rhythm. The Clone looked down at the boy and smiled warmly. “What’s up?” “You want to talk?” Rhythm blinked. 5 years old and already growing to be a sensible gentleman. “Maybe when we take you back, little guy” Rhythm chuckles until a call in the streets instantly alerts him. His head flicks up instead, on red alert as Lenta looks over and her face lights up warmly towards an approaching Twi’lek youth. “Yunn? Is that you?” “Sure is… What brings you here…? I didn’t realise you had a boy t-” Yunn was instantly stopped when Lenta instantly pinched his ear and tugged, causing the male to yelp and grab at his ear. “Ow-ow! Okay Not that!” Lenta scowled lightly before freeing him. “Not at Rhythm or my children please.” The woman sniffed as Yunn whined, Agi was undisturbed as Vite cackled. “Well… What is he doing here then…?” “Helping us shop.” Vite perked up. “Ree helps out a lot.” “Does he now…? He looking for work?” Yunn looks up. “What can you do?” Rhythm froze on the spot. “Ah uh… I’m with the Coruscant Guard… I’m not really free unless I have the rare moment.” Rhythm explained. “He likes music!” Vite added in, jumping back into the conversation. “Does he now…? I wouldn't be able to legally pay you… But you could work with tips…” Yunn spoke. Rhythm looked down in thought. Credits could help the Guard… and his gift habit… “....What do you want me to do?” The Twi’lek’s grin only lit up more. -- Olly watched Rhythm or; DJ R3DY continue blasting what he could tell was a carefully crafted playlist, enough to get the crowd jumping and going wild. He watched his brothers having fun, the Ruurian from earlier talking to some of them as the Clawdite seemed to be on the dance floor with more troopers. Olly took a sip of his drink before he slowly stood up and made his way towards the DJ Desk. He noted a Twi’lek watching him, eyes narrowed. Likely the Owner of the establishment. R3DY paused for a moment, not that anyone noticed during the flashing lights and humming beats, his eyes catching onto Olly as he froze stunned. Olly gave a small twitch of his lips and nodded. R3DY studied the motion. He assumed Olly would want to talk when there was a sweet sound of silence. The barracks then. He proceeded to start the next track as Olly made his way back and rejoined his teammates, the riot trooper wincing at the music and shaking his head as his brothers laughed at his misfortune. Rhythm knew Olly had been wondering what he’d been up to… and he hoped this was a just a confirmation that Olly was happy he wasn’t doing stupid things behind the Guard’s back. And when he was finished, he would return to Lenta’s before trying to sneak back into the barracks to start his shift in 5 hours… If he could stay awake long enough.

#star wars #the clone wars #swtcw #tcw #Coruscant Guard #communications corrie rhythm #riot trooper olly olly oxenfree #DJ-R3DY #clone ocs #If you see the Clawdite and Ruurian you dont #Sona in work and i wanted to include them #The Records Collection #rogue writings

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streetlight11 · 4 years ago

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Deep Scar

Summary: He used to be the popular kid in high school where everyone has a crush on him. He always gets Valentine's Day gifts be it presents, chocolates, homemade brownies, etc. He somehow brought his name to college where there were people who still finds him attractive. What happens when he bumps into a girl who treated him a lot different compared to others? Will he find out the truth behind her behaviour?

Theme: college au, childhood schoolmates but with a bad past

Genre: a little angsty, fluff ending though

Warnings: mild swearing (literally just one word), slight mention of harassment but nothing too crazy

WC: 4.6k

Pairing: Han Jisung x Fem!Reader

a/n: Hey hey :) I've had this in my google drive for quite sometime so my writing might not be so good here but bear with me. P.S the words in italics are his flashback, and hannie might sound like a jerk at one point but this doesn't portray him in real life because irl he's an absolute sweetheart :') Anyways, enjoy reading!

Coming to campus every morning only to find gifts and plenty of love letters in his locker has been becoming a daily routine for Jisung. Although he has never actually reciprocated any of them, he must admit that he did love the amount of attention that’s been drawn to him since back in high school.

He was the popular kid in school where he was known for his intelligence, charming personality and of course, his good looks.

Back in high school, girls would often slot in their confession letters in his locker almost everyday. Every Valentine’s Day, his table would be filled with chocolates and homemade brownies specially for him.

But all of those gifts would eventually be passed to his close friends for them to finish it for him.

Even now when he’s already in college, words spread around the campus of his status back in Saebom High, making everyone in Hankuk College know about him. Despite this new set of attention that was being directed towards him, he managed to make friends with a few people that he trusts.

Some of them were his classmates in college, some were his friends from music class, and some were his good friends back in high school.

That day was no different as he walked down the hall to go to his designated locker, only to find a pink paper that had been folded into a cute little heart.

“Another love letter? Dude, at this point you should really date one of them so that this whole shenanigan would stop.” Chan said with a soft chuckled as Minho and Jeongin nodded in agreement with the elder boy. Jisung rolled his eyes as he unfolded the paper and read the confession, that was pretty much the same as the other notes he received.

All of which, never got reciprocated simply because Jisung believes he hasn’t found anyone that peaked his interest yet.

After about 5 minutes, he slammed his locker shut as the four boys began to walk down the hall, not missing the constant shy giggles and whispers from every direction. Jisung simply walked with his charming smile plastered on his face, making some girls feel their heart flutter in their chest.

Just when they had made a left turn, a figure smaller than them came crashing straight into Jisung’s shoulder, causing both individuals to stumble back a step from the impact.

“Watch where you’re going, dumbass.” The girl who was rubbing her shoulder said as she locked eyes with him firmly. Jisung was slightly baffled as no other girl would even dare to look at him straight in the eye.

“Excuse me?” He said, his voice clearly confused but the girl simply rolled her eyes at him, slightly annoyed.

“You heard me. I don’t have to say it twice.”

“Do you even know who I am?” He asked, slowly starting to feel anger boiling through his veins.

“Do you think I care?” She taunts.

“Other girls would be scrambling away by now.”

“Oh, how exciting. Next time, wear side goggles so you can watch where you’re going.” Was all she said before she shoves past him to continue her journey down the hall to go to her class.

Everyone in that hallway was surprised with their little interaction. Some of them even snickered at her for behaving that way in front of him. As far as he knows, all the girls in school never dared to speak to him in person, nor would they even look at him straight in the eyes for they would either run away in embarrassment, or their face would turn flushed red.

Jisung tried not to think much of it as he continued his walk to his class.

During lunch, the boys had gathered at their usual table. However, Hyunjin and Seungmin were running slightly late this time. They were just a few bites into their meal when Hyunjin’s voice caught everyone at their table’s attention.

“Hey guys! Is it okay if our new friend joins us? She just transferred here so me and Seungmin offered her to have lunch with us.”

At the mention of a female, Jisung whips his head around, only to lock eyes with the same girl he bumped into just a few hours prior.

“You again? Try not to miss your mouth this time when you eat.” She said as her gaze locked on Jisung, leaving him speechless.

Hyunjin and Seungmin exchanged glances at each other in confusion but decided to just carry on with lunch as they ended up sitting with her. If she weren’t too direct, Jisung could almost agree that she was acting quite the opposite towards Hyunjin and Seungmin. Maybe with the others as well. She seemed genuinely friendly and almost effortlessly bright with them.

If he was being honest, it almost upsets him that she treated him like an outcast as compared to the rest of his close friends. Days slowly but surely became weeks as she started to grow visibly close to Hyunjin and Seungmin probably because they were her classmates.

It was a Friday evening and they all decided to go to a pool bar where they had pool tables for people to play and also have light drinks if they wanted to.

They rented out two tables for themselves as they divided into two teams.

“Y/N! Join our team!” Hyunjin called as Y/N giggled, only for her to catch Jisung staring at her from one of the high stools beside the bar.

“I’ll join if he does.”

She said as she nodded her head towards Jisung, only for the others to immediately drag him to Hyunjin’s pool table. The game soon started as Hyunjin served first. She seems to surprise them everytime she serves because all her shots were smooth and almost effortless. It was as if she’s done this multiple times.

“Wow, how are you so good at this?” Seungmin asked as she smiled at him, only to answer his question.

“I guess I’m pretty good at aiming.”

The boy giggled as they watched Hyunjin score a ball. All the while, Jisung was silently watching her by the side.

Not in a creepy way but more like in a confused way. After they finished their one hour at the pool bar, they left to get dinner but she decided to call it a day for her and that she needed to go home to feed her starving kitty.

The boys bid her goodbye as she left, only for Changbin to question his friend.

“Jisung ah, you cannot tell me you’re not the slightest bit intrigued by her…”

With that, Jisung frowned as his mind came swirling back to all the times they’ve hung out with her and gotten to know her better. From all the mean comments tossed at each other like they were flat bread, to the time where she seemed genuinely concerned when Jisung nearly got run over by a speeding truck.

“No… No I’m not.”

Only he knows that it was a total lie but he wasn’t going to admit it to his friends.

His ego was too high for him to easily admit that after all these years of girls trying so hard to win his attention, all he needed was Y/N to come into the picture and that was all it took for him to finally fall for someone.

Nobody needed to know his true feelings for her. He didn’t think it would be much of a big deal so he opted to keep his feelings to himself. It was another week into April, when Chan decided to invite them over to his apartment to hang out and chill on a chilly Saturday. Chan of course included Y/N in the list, hence the reason why she was currently standing outside his apartment door.

She was wearing a brown fitted crop top, her favourite denim ripped skinny jeans, a bomber jacket and her white converse.

She was greeted by Chan as he opened the door wider for her to enter.

She made it inside only to find Felix and Minho challenging each other in a game of Mario Kart Race. Hyunjin, Seungmin and Changbin were busy playing Call Of Duty on their phones. Jisung, Jeongin and Chan were in the kitchen, cooking up some hot kimchi stew.

Y/N took off her jacket as she went to snuggle in between Changbin and Hyunjin, watching them play an intense game of COD.

She was just laying her head on Changbin’s shoulder when he jerked forward, making her body shake as he turned to Hyunjin and high fived him after winning first place. Just then, he noticed the sad pout on her face at the loss of warmth, making him giggle as he sat back down to let her rest her head on his shoulder again before he whispered.

“Sorry baby.” She giggled as she pinched his abs, making him squeak. He laughed as he corrected himself.

“I’m just kidding.”

She smiled as she nuzzled into his shoulder while they were all occupied with doing their own things. A few minutes later, the 3 boys from the kitchen came back to the living room with the pot of kimchi stew and a rice bowl.

However, Y/N didn’t miss the subtle frown on Jisung’s face when he saw her leaning her head against Changbin’s shoulder.

The 9 of them began eating diligently as they fit in almost any possible topic they could think off. After they finished their meal, she offered to wash the dishes since they were all busy. Chan told her not to trouble herself but she insisted on helping him.

She was scrubbing the second last bowl when she heard Jeongin’s voice calling from the living room.

“Noona! Come join us after you’re done washing the dishes okay? We’re gonna play truth or drink!”

“Okay Jeonginie.” She sang in a sing-song tune as she could hear some of them chuckle in the back.

As promised, she joined them after she was done with the last bowl, only to sit in between Minho and Seungmin. They went in a circle starting from Chan. It was in a circle until it reached her, only for Changbin to eagerly raise his hand.

“Oh! Oh! I have a good one!” Changbin said as his inner corner of the lips curved up into a cute smile, making her giggle.

“If you could go back to your past, what is the one thing that you would choose not to do?” His question was good. It was theoretical but good.

Suddenly, her eyes just instantly found Jisung’s soft brown ones as she told them her answer.

“The one thing I would choose not to do? Probably allowing myself to think that whatever people said to me was true.”

The guys started to frown as they asked if something bad happened to her back then but she simply shrugged them off and told them to continue the game. It went on until it was Jisung’s turn, only for Y/N to speak up.

“I have something I wanna ask him.”

This came as a surprise for the others but they let her do the honours anyway.

“Do you remember the girl who confessed to you back in high school?” She said. His eyebrows began to link together as he frowned at her sudden question.

“Huh?”

“The one where you rejected her confession by humiliating her in front of the whole school?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Think harder.” She said.

Suddenly, memories start to flood in his mind like a flash flood.

“H-Hi. I made these for you. I hope you like cupcakes. I k-know a lot of other girls do this for you too, b-but… I-I just thought maybe I should give you something too. I- umm, I like y-you Han Jisung.” The girl confessed as she held out the box filled with her homemade cupcakes that she took time to bake for him the night before.

She bit the inside of her cheeks nervously as she diligently avoided his gaze. Just when she saw his arms reaching out to her thinking he was going to take the box from her, he forcefully smashed the box down making it slip out of her hands.

The students around them began to laugh as Jisung lifted a brow at her.

“Did you really think I’d accept your confession? Look at you. Who would date a girl who ties their hair in pigtails, have her tummy sticking out of her uniform shirt and constantly push the bridge of your spectacles up every 5 minutes? Have you seen yourself in a mirror? Nobody will ever fall for you.”

With that being said, he kicked the metal box away to reveal the fallen cupcakes as he went ahead and stepped on them like it was an insect.

The whole school laughed at her as she ran to the girls bathroom and locked herself in there as she cried her heart out. She was only 13 so it was slightly depressing for her to go through this terrible rejection.

Not only did he reject her in cold blood, he also humiliated her in front of everybody in the process. However, what made her even more upset is the fact that he didn’t seem to feel the slightest bit of remorse for saying those things to her.

That memory was as clear as day as he winced at the thought of how immature he was back then. Nevertheless, he didn’t forget the question he got from Y/N as he went ahead to answer her.

“Yeah… Yeah I remember…”

“Do you remember what you said to her?” Her voice softened as she kept her eyes on him while the rest of them had their eyes trained back and forth between Jisung and her.

“I said… I said she should look at herself in the mirror and that no one will ever fall for her.”

The boys were shocked by how harsh he was to that said girl. Y/N could only smile sadly to him as she slowly continued.

“Do you feel bad saying those things to her now?”

Without much thought, he replied something that broke her heart.

“Why should I?” With that, she tried to hold back her tears as she looked at him dead in the eye before saying these next few words.

“Looks like you’re still that same cocky bastard huh?”

She soon got up from her seat on the floor, only to grab her things to leave when Jisung stood up to grab her wrist, stopping her from taking any more steps further.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, now genuinely confused as to what was going on.

“You’re really dense for someone as arrogant as you.” A scoff left her lips as her eyes bore into his, hoping he understood what she meant. After what felt like forever, Jisung finally realized as it was as though his life just flashed before his eyes.

“Wait… that was you?!” His voice was loud as it was laced with confusion and slight disappointment.

“And what happens if I say yes? Are you gonna ask me if I’ve looked into the mirror and realize that no one will ever fall for me?”

Her words stinged like venoms as he winced yet again but this time, at how hurt she seemed. She didn’t realise this but her tears were no longer held back as a few droplets rolled down her cheeks.

“Your words hurted me back then. So I tried to ignore it and move on. But when you said your answer just now, I realized that maybe you really are just an arrogant jerk.”

She finally pulled her arm out of his grasp as she left without sparing a glance to the others. Jisung has never felt so utterly remorseful, today was the first time. He mentally scolded himself for saying those words back when he was young and immature.

He has never felt so fucked up before, this was definitely the first.

A few days went by, Y/N hasn’t talked to either of the boys, not even Hyunjin and Seungmin. Every time Jisung tried to reach out to her, she would always successfully avoid him. It has been almost 2 weeks since they last talked to her as the boys agreed to go release their stress by going to the downtown club.

They had booked a booth for all 8 of them as they sat in there with some girls coming back and forth to try and get laid with either one of them.

Just then, Jisung’s eyes seemed to scan the room only to see a familiar figure dancing freely on the dance floor. He frowned as he rubbed his eyes to make sure they weren’t playing tricks on him.

He double confirmed that it was in fact Y/N, as he got up and left the booth ignoring the boy’s calls.

Right when he was about to reach the dance floor, he saw her deliberately get dragged through the sweaty, intoxicated humans and towards the back door. He followed them close behind as he saw her struggling to free herself from the man’s hold.

The minute she was out the back, the man pushed her against the brick wall as he attacked her neck forcefully.

“Stop!” She begged.

The man ignored as he started to caress her waist and moved up.

“Stop it!” She tried again as tears started to roll down her cheeks desperately.

The minute she managed to put a distance between herself and the man, the metal back door swung open harshly only for her to lock eyes with Jisung as he rushed down the steps, only to land a solid punch to the man’s jaw.

The man fell to the ground drunkenly as he struggled to stand back up.

“What the fuck man? Get your own girl!” The man said as he grabbed Y/N’s wrist and was about to pull her when Jisung roughly shoved him off again.

The man threw a few drunk punches to Jisung and soon they were both in a fist fight. The two males were starting to have blood clots and bruises all over their bodies and faces when Hyunjin and Changbin came to stop the fight.

“Jisung! Jisung! That’s enough!” Hyunjin yelled as they both grabbed Jisung by his arms and pulled him back.

“Don’t ever touch her again.” Jisung growled as the man stumbled back into the club.

Y/N frowned as she visibly hugged herself, only to see Hyunjin and Changbin give Jisung a subtle nod before they both went back inside, giving privacy to Jisung and Y/N. Once they were alone in the dark alley, that’s when she spoke up.

“Why did you come? Afraid someone might fall for me?”

“You clearly weren't comfortable with him.”

“So what? Why do you care? It’s not like he would fall in love with me. Who am I for someone to even like me? Right?”

Jisung frowned as he called out her name softly but she was quick to intercept.

“I didn’t go to Hankuk to get back at you for what you did to me. Never in a million years did I think I’d even see you again. But now that you’re standing here in front of me, that very day comes back to haunt me again. Because of your words, I have been so afraid of falling for someone, even just a tiny crush. That’s what you did to me Han Jisung and I don’t think I can ever forgive you for that.”

With that being said, she turned in her heels and left. Jisung stood there like an idiot as he cursed himself for letting her walk away yet again.

If this happened back in high school, he would probably laugh at her. But now that he was actually starting to like her, he has never felt so upset and disappointed. This was probably even worse than a break up.

She refused to speak to him for days after as she avoided everyone in the friend group.

It was a gloomy Friday night as she was laying on her couch sideways, watching a sappy romantic movie to drown her sadness. She was wearing a loose sweater that made it look like a dress on her. Her calf high socks and a pair of shorts she always wore to sleep.

She had just thought about what she could get for supper when there was a knock on her door.

“Who the hell comes at a time like this?” She thought to herself as she went over to her door and opened it without checking the peephole first. She almost stumbled as she locked eyes with the same pair of brown orbs that she’s been trying so hard to avoid for the past few weeks.

“Jisung? What are you doing here?” She asked, genuinely shocked at how he knew her address.

“Y/N, can we talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Please just hear me out. I don’t need you to say anything, I just need you to listen.”

She fell silent for a moment before she opened the door wider for him to enter. Once inside, he followed her to her living room, only for them to sit 3 feet apart. She urged him with a slight nod as he took a deep breath and soon began.

“Look. I know whatever I did to you back then was horrible. It was my ego talking. I didn’t know any better. We were so young… How could I possibly feel bad at the time when all I thought was to reject you?”

Just then, she cut him in by saying something that made him rethink his choices.

“You’re telling me that everything you said to me meant nothing to you just because it wasn’t you who received it?”

“I… I wasn’t thinking. I was young-”

“Bullshit. Even a 5 year old kid knows what’s nice and what’s hurtful to say to others. Don’t pull the young card on me.”

“Y/N please-”

“Get out. If you’re still gonna be the same arrogant, highly egoistic jerk then get out. You’ve said things that left a deep scar in my life and here you are saying it doesn’t mean anything? Get out.”

“Y/N-”

“I said get out!” She finally screamed as her chest was heaving, her tears streaming down her face in anger but she didn’t care. She got up as she dragged him to the door, while he tried to fight back. The minute he was out, she slammed the door behind her only to lock it as she found herself sliding down the door, only to sit on the wooden floor.

Her cries were soft, but they were filled with so much pain. On the other side of the door, Jisung could hear her cries as he too kneeled on the ground with his hands against the door.

He could hear her loud and clear as he felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. He couldn’t bear to say a word to her as he remained quiet.

The next morning, Y/N woke up suddenly wanting to get herself breakfast to clear her memory from last night. She got out of bed, took a warm shower, got changed into her sweatpants, a big hoodie and a cap. She unlocked her door and had just taken a step outside when she jumped at the slight of Jisung seated on the ground beside her apartment door.

Since he was a light sleeper, the sound of her door opening, woke him up as he quickly got on both feet.

Before she could re-enter her apartment, he pressed his palms against the door to prevent her from closing it as he spoke up softly.

“Y/N, please, please let me explain.” He begged as she wasn’t sure why but she decided to let him in. Once he was inside, they didn’t even bother to go anywhere further into her apartment as he stood by the door and began to explain himself.

“Y/N, please listen to me. I know what I did was bad. At the time, I didn’t realise how humiliating it was for you. But now that I’m an adult, I realized that my actions were extremely horrible and I would never, ever do that to anyone now.” He paused before he continued on.

“I know that whatever I said and did back then, I can’t take any of it back. And I don’t blame you for not forgetting or forgiving me for it. I admit that I deserve this from you. All I ask is for you to give me another chance to start over. But I understand if you want nothing to do with me.” He said with a tiny hope laced in his voice although he wasn’t so confident that she would forgive him this time.

She knew he felt guilty for whatever he did back then so it wasn’t wrong for her to give him a second chance right?

“How would I know you’re not just acting this way to set me up for humiliation again?” She asked.

“Would I say all those things and bring my ego down just to prove that I felt like utter shit after everything you told me, only to humiliate you even further?”

“Nobody knows what your ego is capable of.”

“If my words won’t convince you, would my actions do?”

“What if you do it, only to leave and tell on me to everyone else?”

“I can’t seem to get your trust now, can I?”

“Try being in my shoe and you’ll know.”

“Y/N please… I know I left a deep scar on you emotionally and mentally back then, but please… I beg you, please just… let me start over. I need you to trust me just this once.”

“Fine. But if you abuse my trust, I’m never speaking to you again.”

“Believe me, you have no idea how fucked up I felt that night at Chan’s.”

Right after he finished his sentence, he didn’t waste anymore time as he reached up to cup her face in both hands and soon kissed her. She instantly melted against his body as he pulled her closer by the waist. His kisses were so gentle, as if he was afraid he would break her again.

His touch was soft as he slid his hands under her shirt only to draw random patterns onto her waist.

Just then, he pulled away from her lips but it was so addicting he couldn’t help but peck her lips one last time before he spoke up.

“I’m really, really sorry Y/N for everything back then. I couldn’t help but feel like complete shit after that night when I found out that was you. You don’t have to forgive me, I totally understand.”

Y/N just smiled as she gently tangled her fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck before she spoke up.

“Would I have let you kiss me if I was still mad?”

He remained quiet as she then continued.

“Besides, I’m giving you a chance to redeem yourself so please, don’t take advantage of this.” She warned gently.

Jisung kissed her for slightly longer before he pulled away and whispered against her lips.

“I promise.”

With that, she smiled as she wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest while he snaked his arms around her smaller figure.

Ever since then, Jisung did everything he could to redeem himself for what he did to her back in high school. She slowly began to fall for him as she gave him a solid second chance and she could see how genuine he was now whenever he did something nice for her. Even if he didn’t say it out loud, she knew that he really tried his best to win her heart. And it worked.

~~~

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