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erodasfishtacos · 4 years ago

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Three Minutes

Prompt: Harry slips up and it’s only right his wife serves him a little punishment.

Word Count: 3.2 k +

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content (sexting, dirty talk, public, subby!h)

AN: I’m excited to share this!! I’m pretty sure I’m going to do a part 2. Let me know if you’d like to see this! I’m dedicating this to @harrywritingsbyme because she’s an amazing writer and you need to read everything of hers! Requests open ☺️

Reblog if you can!

Harry was dreading his interview with Howard Stern. The guy was an obnoxious prick who had no filter and liked to put people on the spot - it’s what he’s doing right now.

You were off to the side, watching the interview next to Jeff. It was matter of time before Howard brought you up to pick and prod at your husband.

“So Harry, you’re married, yes?” Howard asks, typical sunglasses on and curly permed hair donned. His mouth a little to close to the microphone.

“Yeah, I am,” Harry smiles tightly, hands rubbing on this upper thighs. He spares a quick glance over to you.

“She’s here, right?” Howard looks over at you and winks, “Fucking gorgeous babe, huh?”

You roll your eyes at the interviewers remark and Harry’s isn’t pleased but nicely responds, “She’s amazing, way out of my league.”

Howard laughs, “Now I have to ask you, does she tour with you?”

Harry replies, “Yeah. For the most part, sometimes she’ll go off to visit family or friends for a bit.”

The interview smirks, “Does she get worried you’re going to fuck other people while she’s not there? I mean you have girls falling at your feet. It must be hard to avoid temptation.”

You blink owlishly, attempting to contain the offended scoff bubbling in your throat. Jeff snickers and you send him a elbow.

Your husbands face can’t hide his annoyance at the question, “Are you asking me if it’s hard not to cheat on my wife?”

“I mean you could have a line up of girls after every show willing to blow you. I couldn’t be satisfied going home to the same thing every night.”

The band is looking back and forth at each other - clearly uncomfortable. Mitch’s face completely blank - of course.

“Well, I mean - I think that kind of stuff like...people going crazy over you was exciting when I was a bit younger. But no, I mean I’m very much in love and also consider myself a monogamous person.”

“Man, I mean - some of the songs you write about her? Watermelon Sugar, that’s clearly about eating her out,” Howard laughs, the tune playing softly in the background.

Jeff nearly chokes on the water he’s drinking and you pat him hard on the back - as payback for making Harry do this interview.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had pussy so good I’d write about it,” the interview jokes crudely. The women interviewer tittering in the background at his antics.

Harry fumbles, “Uh-uhm, it’s not uh- necessarily about anything or any act like...in particular. Just about having a good time with the person you love.”

The female interviewer who stays mostly quite chirps in to break the tension, “Is it hard to be long-distance when she’s not on the road with you?”

“Not at all. Most of the time she’s with me but we’re lucky we have technology that helps us not feel so far away from each other.”

Howard smiles, “How do you not go crazy being without sex for long amounts of time?”

It’s odd how obsessed this guy is with sex. As well as painting Harry as some sex-crazed rockstar who can’t go a day without.

Harry then goes on to put his entire, big ass foot in his mouth. “Y‘know that’s uh-that’s what good about FaceTime and Snapchat.”

The interviewer grins like a predator at Harry’s admission. You’re face is bright fucking pink. You’re gonna murder him.

“Well you heard it here first, folks. The key to how Harry Styles - one of the greatest artist of his time- keeps a happy relationship with his wife while he’s on the road. Dick pics and FaceTime sex.”

Harry glances over at you, his face apologetic as he already knows he in trouble.

You’re not that embarrassed - it not like it’s a weird thing to do but you didn’t want him talking about it with a trashy talk show host.

The interview is almost over which is good because Harry’s about to lose his temper after he’s asked about his step-father’s passing and the stalker who was harassing you two.

During the interview however, you get a wonderful fucking idea as easy payback for Harry’s little slip up.

After Harry’s tossed his headset and microphone pack off with a little too much force to be unnoticeable - he’s sliding up beside you.

“Baby love,” He murmurs sheepishly into your cheek, nuzzling there for a moment, and breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

“You did good, H,” You reply softly, landing a soft kiss to his lips before pulling back to brush his hair off his forehead.

“Y’not mad?” Harry asks warily, knowing he got nervous and gave a little too much information.

“No baby, not mad at all,” Your voice steady and believable. It was true - you weren’t mad, just a little annoyed.

He seems confused. He knows you like the back of his hand and usually, you get peeved when he says something in interviews you’d rather the word not know.

Like the one time he let it slip you had an affinity for hooking up in hotel pools after dark. Prat.

Harry multiple appearances that day and it ends in a dinner at a fancy restaurant in Beverly Hills with big wigs.

You were invited but declined, despite Harry’s pouting and whines for you to go. You were the only thing that made these work obligations go faster.

However, you had other plans and a little bit of revenge to play on your unsuspecting husband.

All in good fun - of course.

Harry sits down with a group of people from his label. They’re all dressed in tight suits and rolex watches.

Harry on the other hand is in a flowy button-up only halfway done and a tight pair is skinny jeans. Jeff is dressed pretty casually too.

They were talking about tour dates and had just received their appetizers when he gets the text from you. Your name in his phone as baby love.

Harry nearly chokes on his water when he opens the message to reveal an image of you nearly naked in your shared bed. You skin tone standing out against the baby blue comforter.

You have one of his vintage tees on as well as some creme boyshort panties. The shirt is lifted though, rumpled up by your collarbones to reveal your breasts.

Harry wants to drool over the picture but doesn’t want to risk anyone else seeing his wife in any state of undress. So he quickly responds.

Baby, I’m at dinner.

You reply with another picture. A hand tucked down your underwear, cupping your heat. He can see the outline of your fingers underneath the thin fabric.

Already have something you could eat.

Harry can already feel himself twitch in his jeans. Cut it the fuck out now

Another. Fucking. Picture. Comes through.

This time you’re completely stripped, tits visible with soft pink peaks, and a hand strategically covering your cunt.

Make me, H.

It clicks what game you’re playing. You rarely sent anything risqué when you where together because you had each other physically.

Harry curses under his breathe, locking his phone and pushing back his chair a little too fast - excusing himself to the loo.

As soon as he clicks the lock on the single-person restroom, he’s pressing on your contact information and you pick up on the very first ring.

“You bloody brat, I’m out at dinner,” Harry hisses at you, giving himself a rough squeeze through his tighten trousers.

All he hears back is a breathy moan. He’d know that sound anywhere - you’re touching yourself.

“What the fuck are you playin’ at?” Your husband demands, but the clipped edge in his tone tells you how much it’s affecting him.

“Just a little payback, babe...for spilling our dirty secrets,” you hum innocently, deciding to send him another picture.

It’s a simple photo without context some might not even understand. It’s just your hand but your fingers glistening with your arousal.

Harry’s hand is about to crush is phone into bits as his eyes roam the picture. He was nearly panting, already able to imagine the taste and smell.

He takes a deep breath before he threatens you, “if you don’t pull your desperate little self together right now- I’m not going anywhere near that needy cunt and I’ll make you spend all night choking on me.”

Instead of the typical, sad whimpers he expects to hear - he receives a patronizing, high-pitched giggle.

“That’s not how it’s going to work tonight, H,” you inform him in a matter-of-fact manner before continuing, “we’re playing by my rules.”

Your husband laughs in disbelief, echoing against the bleak bathroom walls, “and what those rules, sweetheart?”

“You’re going to go sit through your nice little dinner, rockstar. And I’m going to send you pictures, maybe some videos to watch to keep you entertained. If you don’t open them within three minutes each time and reply - you’re not coming tonight. The couch will have a blanket and pillow ready for you.”

If he was in charge, he’d laugh and remind you that you two have three lovely guest rooms he could choose from. But he doesn’t want to push it.

“Fuck,” Harry spits, having to cram his hand into his jeans to adjust himself so he doesn’t look like a pervert when he goes back out.

But he was so fucking game.

He’d do anything you wanted from him - no matter if he could embarrass himself in front of business partners or fans. He was besotted, whipped, whatever you wanted to call him.

“Are you going to be good for me, baby?” You coo tauntingly, from the other end of the line. Basking in his little huffs of air and the agitated lift in his voice.

“Yeah, m’gonna be good,” he murmurs gruffly, his demeanor had changed now that he wasn’t in charge any longer - always willing to let you be dominant when you wanted to be.

It wasn’t often - but when you did, Harry would fall into a nice, fuzzy headspace of compliance and submission. He always wanted to please and this amplified all of his desires.

“Best husband I could ask for, you know?” You reward, knowing that the games are just getting started and you wanted to make this last.

“I love you s’much,” Harry automatically returns, with deep devotion and honesty. His voice as sweet as maple syrup.

“Are you hard, H?”

He grips himself, like he’d just remember, “m’really fucking hard for you.”

“Snap an picture for me, pull yourself together, and then go back to your table - don’t forget the rules.”

“Yes ba-“

Then you end the call while he’s talking.

Harry’s a little shaky as he swipes onto his camera. He grips the thick outline of his cock, rings glinting in the dull lights, and takes a picture.

He hopes it’s good enough and quickly sends it before splashes some cold water on his face and thinking of anything but his naked wife laying at home in their bed - wet and horny.

Jeff gives him a side-eye when he sits back down, casually throwing a napkin over his lap because he can’t help the semi that refuses to go down all together.

“You alright?” His manager asks him, the others still in the throws of tour venues and vendors discussions.

Harry nods, lying easily “the missus couldn’t find her phone charger - thought I nipped it.”

“You do love to steal those,” his friends agrees before cutting off one of them men to suggest three days at Madison Square Garden instead of two.

Harry’s clutching his phone like a lifeline, anticipating the indicative text vibrations that let him know you’ve sent something.

However, despite how many times he checks, fifteen minutes pass and still nothing has sent from you. He almost starts to worry if you’re okay.

But just like the sneaky little thing you are, you wanted to give him enough time to calm down and relax before rilining him up again.

When it finally alerts him, he’s unlocking his phone and opening the message thread as fast as possible.

The picture makes his jaw almost drop on the fucking carpeted floor. You’re in one the large closets in your home- the one that holds all of his Gucci suits in particular.

There is a massive floor to ceiling mirror in this room that you’re standing in front of. You’ve slid on one of his custom silk Gucci button-ups that has styles embroidered on the breast pocket without doing doing up any of the buttons.

He’s an absolutely goner for you in anything that makes you look like his property - the large engagement ring and wedding band on your left ring-finger satiates that feeling quite well.

It takes he a moment before he realizes what else you’re wearing. Your fucking collar. It sat tight around your neck, the expensive leather biting into your skin.

Your one hand was holding the phone and the other had a hand teasing at one of your hardened nipples through the silk fabric of the shirt.

He keeps his phone in his lap with a dim light setting so nobody can risk a chance at seeing such explicits pictures of what’s his.

You look so good with my name on you, baby. Please, want to see you in just the collar, take off the shirt.

Harry fumbles along with the conversation, that’s revolving all around him, “Yeah, I loved Argentina. Definitely want to got there again.”

Buzz.

How’d you already forget I’m in charge? Maybe I’ll just go to bed if you’re not going to follow instructions.

As punishment - if you can really call it that - in the next image you don’t have the collar on any longer and you’ve done up a few buttons on the silk shirt.

Harry feels panicked at the thought of you stopping. He was in a nice, soft headspace clinging onto anything you were willing to give him - desperate to make you happy.

I’m sorry, baby. I’ll be good for you. You’re so fucking sexy. I can basically taste you on my tongue.

“Harry?” Jeff draws him out of his haze. He’s looking at him expectantly, eyebrow quirked, and a martini in his hand.

“What did you say?” Harry asks, eyes itching to dart back down to the screen of his mobile.

“Would you want Kacey to open for you again in North America?” Jeff repeats with annoyance.

“Oh, uh-yeah, that’d be great,” he tells them without really think about it.

He should be paying attention to this pretty important meeting but he can’t when he gets another alert.

The video is back in the bedroom, your delicate fingers sliding down your torso with the button-up pooled around your ribs.

Your hand slowly, at a near crawl- traces down with the camera until the manicured tips of your fingers are at your mound.

Harry’s stomach is tensing in excitement as he watches your fingers dip into the part in your slick, swollen folds.

He has to bite back a groan when the video cuts off and he reads the text below the attachment.

Was this the pussy you enjoyed eating so much you won a Grammy writing about? Was Howard right in his interview?

If Harry was in charge, he would have delivered a few resounding smacks to your arse for how cocky you were being - despite it being the absolute truth.

Did he write and win a Grammy based on a song about how much he loved eating his wife out? Sure fucking did.

Baby love. Yeah, wrote it about you. Write all my songs about how much I love you and your body. Everything is yours.

Harry is so good when he’s subby - is the thing.

Harry was a sappy sod anyways, always ready to tell you how much he loved you and thousand of other sweet things. This just amplified all of his warm, fuzzy emotions.

Send me a picture of your left hand

He hesitates for a moment, still nodding along to the ebb and flow of the business talk but having no actual idea what they’re talking about.

Harry places his large, wide hand flat on the table in front of him. He knew why you wanted his left hand - you were just as possessive as him.

You want to see his long, slim fingers that feel so good inside of you. You want to see the glimmer of his wedding band as well as the tattoo of your name on the outer curve of his hand.

He doesn’t think to turn off his flash. It ends up going off in the dimly lit restaurant and blinding the table, reflecting off the silver flatware.

He looks like a complete knob - taking a picture of his hand but also something weird Harry may do anyways and upload to his Instagram.

The men blink a few times and look at him with a confused expression. Jeff jabs him roughly in the side.

“Uh, snapchat streak,” he mumbles, tucking his phone back into his lap and sending it.

You were cutting it close, babe. 2 minutes, I don’t like waiting. But fuck, who’s name is that on your hand, who’s that ring for?

You, you baby. All of its for you, promise. I belong to you, only you for the rest of my life.

The response is quick.

But...you have girls falling at your feet, lining up to blow you.

A direct quote for the interview today. Brat - she knew how he hated when people assumed or talked like he had no self control or morals.

Only want your mouth, your cunt, your tits. So bloody gone for you, baby. Please send me another video.

He really shouldn’t be egging you on.

Your being greedy but you’ve been following the rules so I’ll allow it.

The video does not disappoint. You’re hand is nestled down between your thighs, pinching at your puffy, stimulated bud. Just the amount of pain you like. It’s a short clip but it has him wriggling in his seat.

He watches it again but before he can finish it - Jeff is snatching his phone out of his shaky hands and tucking it into his own pants pocket.

The manager’s obviously sick of the lack of focus and honestly, how disrespectful Harry’s being which is something he usual never is.

“Pay attention,” he whispers with a sharp, irritated tone before clapping Harry on the back to play off the scolding to the group.

Harry feels a knot form in his stomach as his phone sits stagnant in his friends pocket. His wife sitting, impatiently waiting for his response that she’s not going to get.

He watches his vintage wristwatch as fifteen minutes pass, he hears a few buzzes from his phone that go unattended.

Harry’s not fuzzy anymore - well not in a good way. He has anxiety bubbling in his tummy and his semi had finally disappeared from nerves of disappointing you.

He decides to engage in the conversation to keep his mind off of what is waiting for him at home. He craved to look at those images and videos again. To have it in real life.

It had been three hours since he responded. The people at the table insisting on dessert and alcoholic coffees despite Harry saying he was exhausted from a long day of promo.

At the end of dinner, Harry would love to lie and say he’s recovered from his shakiness but he hadn’t.

After shaking the hands of the record label men, he walks to his car with Jeff. He gets a nice talking to before his phone is being placed back into his hand and he’s sliding into his obnoxious vintage Ferrari.

He takes a deep breathe before he unlocks his phone. The buzzes he heard where not all from you. A few from Twitter, his mum, Niall. There was only one from you.

Game Over. You lose.

—

Thank you for reading💕🥺

#harry styles #harry styles fic rec #harry styles masterlist #harry styles writing #harrystylesfanfic #fanpic harry #fic rec #husband harry styles #Harry styles shut #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles prompt

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beyondspaceandstars · 4 years ago

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Soup & Cuddles

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: N/A, just fluff Summary: Bucky had a particularly rough mission but you’re there to welcome him home with a nice warm meal and comforting arms. A/N: ooof weird ending I’m sorry I sometimes don’t know how to end stuff lmao please forgive me but besides that i think this is cute, simple, and sweet so please enjoy <3

Masterlist

You’d been with Bucky long enough to know what came with welcoming him home from a mission.

For starters, whatever time his estimated arrival was was always off by at least a couple of hours (he like to put up an optimistic front for you, you had realized quickly) so you were always prepared for very late nights. Secondly, he would usually be dead tired but insist on hearing about what you did while he was gone. Thirdly, he could be touchy, unable to even lift a finger from you once he got in the door. And finally, he’d simply be hungry.

This night started like any other waiting for Bucky to come home from a mission. Early that morning he alerted you he would be home around midnight which basically translated to early morning hours. You started cooking some food for him around midnight as you waited.

You settled on vegetable soup as it not only warmed the soul but also could be reheated easily. What could you say? You favored practical recipes.

You prepped and seasoned the vegetables nicely, leaving them to wait patiently in the pot. You added in the vegetable stock along with water and a dash of more seasoning just to give it that little extra something. As it began bubbling away, you placed a lid on it, letting the broth reduce and flavors combine.

Once the soup was completed, you left it sitting on the back burner, simmering to keep warm for when Bucky arrived home. You sat on your kitchen island counter, flipping through a magazine when the door finally opened. You smiled, your head quickly turning to greet your man but everything around you seemed to stop when you noticed the state he was in.

Physically, he was just fine. There was no blood you could see, only just the outlines of bruises, but everything else about him… From his stance to his eyes… He didn’t seem okay.

It wasn’t new for Bucky to sometimes came back in unpleasant moods. That, you felt, was totally expected with such a demanding job but something about this time was different. He looked defeated, almost like everything was kicked out of him all over again.

Your heart dropped but you tried not to show it, keeping up some cheeriness in your voice. "Hi, honey," you said, sending him a small smile.

"Hi, doll," His words were weak.

Redirecting your attention to the stove, you hopped down and grabbed a bowl. Motioning towards the pot, you said, "I made you some vegetable soup if you’re hungry."

Bucky shook his head, "Maybe in the morning."

Soup? In the morning? Was… Was he even listening to you?

Stunned, you stood there, just holding the bowl and spoon meant for him. You watched him place some stuff on the counter and then head into the living room, totally bypassing you without a second glance.

Despite turning down the food, you still filled a bowl for him, adding some toast with butter to the side for dipping. You grabbed a couple of water bottles from the fridge and headed into the living room.

Bucky was sitting on the couch, mindlessly watching late-night TV shows. He wasn’t reacting to anything on the television, just staring off into space. He barely even register you had entered the room until you placed the soup and water directly in front of him on the coffee table.

"Doll, really," he insisted, "I don’t want anything."

You shrugged, taking a seat next to him on the couch, and said, "Well, it’s there in case you change your mind."

Silence fell over the room as Bucky turned to you, his heavy eyes met yours. He looked tired in the worst way. You bit your lip, debating if you should press him to talk about it. He’d always been hesitant to talk about, well, anything. You tried your best to respect that but this was getting to you.

Cautiously, you placed your hand over Bucky’s, intertwining your fingers. It was a small thing but he accepted it.

"Do you want to talk about anything?" You asked, your voice just hovering above a whisper. Bucky took his eyes off you, opting to look down at your connected hands. You took the opportunity to lightly run your fingers through his hair. He slightly leaned into the touch, giving you a bit of hope.

"First off, we lost some people," he simply replied, his grip on your hand suddenly getting stronger.

"What- On the team?" You asked frantically. Bucky quickly shook his head.

"No," he said. You let out a sigh of relief. "But then there were some issues with the civilians."

He acted like that was that but something in your gut could feel there was more to it. He was being so vague it was weirding you out. Bucky, on the other hand, didn’t seem concerned about his words as he disconnected your hands and finally reached for the soup bowl. He drank some broth, turning back to the television.

"Bucky," you said slowly, "is that it?"

He looked down at the soup, this time eating a spoonful of vegetables. Once he had finished his bite, there was a pause. He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it as if contemplating on answering. You watched him intensely, pulling your hands to your lap, waiting.

"Kids," he mumbled as his gaze focused on his dinner, stirring the spoon idly. "We saw some kids and I… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them. I don’t know if they’re okay or not."

Your jaw dropped slightly. You brought your hand gently to his bicep. He tensed under your touch. "Oh, honey…"

You didn’t know what to say. What- What could you say? Everything on missions could be rough but the image of a child caught in problems they didn’t cause? And possibly paying for it? You couldn’t even imagine the weight of it all.

Bucky sighed, leaning forward, forcing your touch to drop, as he placed his food back on the coffee table. He took a couple of bites of the bread before leaning back, still not looking at you.

"You know, missions can be bad on their own," he mumbled. "But being reminded children are affected…"

He said so little but so much all at once. All you could do was nod, trying to ease his mind. You couldn’t pretend to even know how he was feeling. You certainly had never been in his position before. You just had to be there listen when he was ready to speak and welcome him into your arms to let him know you’re there.

When Bucky felt you wrap your arms around him, he pulled back from his empty staring to look down at you. Normally, when emotions were this strong he’d opt to be alone. And, in fact, he almost did just that earlier. His original plan was to walk right into the bedroom once he got home and bury it all.

But he knew that wouldn’t be a possibility. You were too good. You were there all sweet and radiant, waiting for him with a hot meal. He just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t turn you away no matter how much he tried. Stuff got a lot better faster when he had someone willing to comfort him.

Effortlessly, he picked you up and placed you on his lap. His arms were tight around your waist. You rested your head in the crook of his neck while his forehead met your shoulder.

You two stayed like that for a bit, just holding one another, trying to offer support any way you could. You still were at a loss for words but Bucky didn’t seem to mind. He probably wasn’t looking for a response anyway. He knew you each led two completely different lives and, sure, there was some beauty in that. There was something about coming back to one another after a full day of work and errands, ready to share stories from your day. But there were always bad sides to it, too. While you didn’t exactly have the horror stories Bucky could have, you knew he’d always listen to your problems, as you were present to listen to his.

After a moment, you felt you couldn’t keep the silence going. Gently pushing away, Bucky lifted his head from your shoulder and you faced one another again.

"I’m sorry," you said, running your thumb over his damp cheek, collecting tears.

"I love you, doll," Bucky mumbled, leaning forward to place a quick peck on your lips. "Thank you."

"I- I didn’t really do-,"

He shook his head, "You do so much for me. You listen to me, you comfort me, you make me the greatest bowls of soup ever… You do too much. Thank you."

You chuckled, your heart melting at his words. With the best smile you could muster under the circumstance, you placed a proper kiss on Bucky’s lips which he happily returned. His grip got tighter, trying to pull your bodies together. You pressed your hands against his chest, putting distance between you two. There were a lot of emotions running through you two.

"You should get some sleep," you said and tried getting off his lap. His arms wouldn’t budge. You sighed, "Bucky, honey, come on."

Shaking his head, he said, "Let’s watch a movie or something, okay? I… I don’t want to sleep yet."

You nodded, "Alright, we can do that but I would like some soup first. And maybe then cuddles."

Bucky chuckled, removing his arms from your waist. You stood and raced to the kitchen, grabbing your own bowl of soup and bread.

"Soup and cuddles?" He asked, watching you from the living room. Maybe he could spend all night like this. Watching you was enough to keep him happy.

"Soup and cuddles," you confirmed, making your way back into the living room. You placed your food on the coffee table and sat on the couch where Bucky had his arm extended, waiting for your body to curl up into his.

His hold on you was fairly strong as if needing a reminder of your presence but you didn’t say anything. It felt good to be wrapped in your man’s arms. And felt even better to be his safe spot. Your heart fluttered at the realization, making you slide closer.

Bucky certainly didn’t object.

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13uswntimagines · 4 years ago

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Loser Buys Dinner (Lindsey x Reader)

Request: team goes to an ice rink and the reader is really good at ice skating and the team didn't know. you can add a pairing if you want

Author’s Note: Special Thanks to @literaryhedgehog!!! Also this one has a slightly awkward ending, but we thought it fit.

You stared at the sign as Kelley brought the car to a park. Ice Town skating rink blazed in neon letters as the outline of a skate seemed to circle around them. Around you, you heard the chattering of your teammates as they registered where you had come for today’s team bonding activity. They at least were excited. You unbuckled your seatbelt and followed Rose out of the car, still not taking your eyes off the neon image circling around your vision. It was fine. Today would be fun.

“Hey fun size, you excited?” Lindsey bounced up to walk at your side. You flicked your head slightly to clear your thoughts and turned to smile quickly at her.

“I guess. It’s definitely been a while since I’ve ice skated.”

“Don’t worry,” Lindsey said grinning, “I’ll stay with you the whole time if you’re worried about falling.”

“I won’t fall,” you said matter of factly. Lindsey raised an eyebrow. Before she could challenge you to a competition that she would lose, you said “if anything I’m worried about you. If you fall you’ll get frostbite.”

If Lindsey was concerned about the cold, she didn’t show it. She was from Colorado and was quite used to the terrible temperature. While Kelley had instructed everyone to wear layers, Lindsey was only wearing a jacket and flannel over a pair of skinny jeans. She grinned at your comment and shrugged. “I’ll be fine. What’s it going to be, like 30 degrees?”

“Yes. That is literally the temperature ice freezes at.”

“It’s just your California blood that makes you chill faster,” she smirked, elbowing your side.

You rolled your eyes at her and entered the building. As the smell of the ice rink washed over you you inhaled deeply through your nose and exhaled through your mouth, intentionally relaxing the muscles that had tensed up at the memories the smell elicited. You still felt your spine straighten from habit, but chose to ignore it.

“Are we sure this is a good team bonding activity. Like what if we break our legs before the game?” Rose asked, strapping a skate on her foot. She had always been the clumsier of the team.

“We ran it by the coaches and they signed off on it so long as we’re all willing to be serious. Looking at you Sonnett. No fooling around on the ice. There are walls to hold onto if you feel unbalanced Rosie, but it’s a good chance to practice our flops if you feel like you’re going to fall. Remember- fall back and protect your head.” Carlie said with a grin.

“And then you want us to roll on the ice for the pretend ref?” Lindsey asked, quirking her eyebrow up at the ludicrous implication. There weren’t going to be any hands going near any skate paths.

“The pretend ref would assume you were throwing a temper tantrum if you did since NO ONE will be skating at each other,” Beckey said, looking up from tightening her skate to catch the eye of each troublemaker on the team.

Emily frowned, there went her idea of trying to joust with their umbrellas.

“You alright?” Lindsey asked, sliding her hand along your lower back.

“Yeah,” you said, looking at the rink logo imprinted in the center of the ice.

“Well you’re kinda blocking the entrance to the rink,” Lindsey said very close to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. When did she get so close to you?

You blinked away the feeling of a spotlight and thousands of eyes in your back to look back at her. Then you grinned slowly, “Just… creating some anticipation.”

“I know you Californians probably don’t know much about moving on the ice, but you’re not supposed to just stand and stare at it,” she said, kissing your cheek. “just remember that I won’t let you fall,”

You raised your eyebrows at her, then turned around fully to face her, still blocking the entrance intentionally. “Wanna make a bet Linessie? Because I think you’ll fall more than I do today.”

“In your dreams short stuff,” she snorted, refraining from saying that she had fallen for you already.

“You taking the bet or not?” You said, a little louder this time so that you caught the attention of Emily and the rest of the youngins.

Linsey’s grin grew to match your own, “I’m always game, you know that,”

“Loser has to eat like Carlie for a week?” You proposed, sticking out your hand for her to shake.

“Hm, those stakes aren’t high enough. Loser has to eat Alex’s weird vegan shit for a week,” Lindsey said, her lips ticking up at your scrunched nose.

“That would be cruel. I’m not doing that to you. Loser pays for winner’s Costco run?”

“I think you’re just scared you won’t be able to eat ice cream for a week,” Lindsey scoffed, crossing her arms.

“Okay, I tried to go easy on you,” you said, shaking your head dramatically. “If you’re willing to eat like Alex for a week, I’ll take that bet.”

“You’re on pipsqueak,” Lindsey shook your outstretched hand, squeezing it a little too tightly.

You grinned at her and holding her gaze stepped backward onto the ice, crossing one foot over the other to gain speed as you glided to the center of the floor.

It felt natural, as though the last 12 years had only been 2. You did a quick counter turn, letting the muscle memory carry you over the ice. You did a twizzle and grinned. Not too shabby.

“Holy fuck,” Lindsey said, her jaw dropped as you glided effortlessly across the ice. So much for her plan to be your hero on the ice. Your protector from the cold.

“Shoulda pretended you were the terrified one,” Emily snickered, bumping her lightly as she passed her. You may be oblivious to Lindsey’s feelings, but the rest of the team was not.

Lindsey shook her head and skated off after you, not as smooth on the ice as you were, but pretty damn close. She had always preferred hockey over figure anyway. She easily caught up with you, skating relatively close behind you.

You saw her and turned, arabesqueing a leg into the air behind you. Then you leaned into a tight camel spin so you looped around Lindsey as she moved.

“You forwards are always such show-offs,” Lindsey rolled her eyes, catching your outstretched hand once both feet were back on the ice and pulling you close to her.

“Cause diving headers and Bicycle Kicks are totally not showing off either,” you said, scrunching your nose at her.

“How did a Cali girl like you learn to skate?” She asked, moving so she was behind you again, holding your waist as you skated.

“Some way most girls who don’t live in a frozen wasteland do,” you said, shrugging. “I took lessons.”

“Wasn’t action-packed enough for our little firecracker?” Lindsey questioned and you could practically hear her eyebrow ticking up.

You fought to keep your smile normal. “Believe it or not, there was a time when I wasn’t a firecracker and didn’t like being the center of attention.”

“Not a firecracker, impossible. I’m pretty sure most defenses are terrified of you, especially after you made that English defender pee her pants when she went after Mal,” Lindsey carefully pulled you into her chest resting her head on your shoulder, mindful that you two were still hurtling along the ice.

You grinned. “Well, she deserved it.” You leaned out to the side then in again, pulling you both into a gentle spin. “But yeah, around middle school I dropped out of skating. My partner for pairs skating broke his ankle skateboarding and,” you paused, trying to find the words to explain, “I just really didn’t like singles.”

“Is it bad that I’m glad he got hurt? Cause now I get to be your pairs partner and you never have to be single again if you don’t want…” Lindsey mumbled, glad that you weren’t facing each other. She wasn’t sure she could have looked you in the eye and finally shot her shot.

“Well, I am known for being a damn good team player, even if I am a showoff,” you nudged Lindsey playfully. “But I refuse to eat vegan for a week. I need my chocolate icecream.”

“Well,” said Lindsey with a dramatic sigh, “how about we amend the bet. Loser pays for dinner on the first date?”

Lindsey waited just a second for your agreement, enjoying the feeling of you in her arms, and then she gently pushed you away. You slid easily across the ice, turning just in time to see Lindsey “trip” and fall to her knees.

“Guess I’m buying,” she said smirking up at you, her blond hair framing her face.

“It’s a date loser,” You smiled so wide, your pink cheeks started to hurt.

“You’re supposed to flop backward, Linds,” Carlie called across the ice.

#uswnt imagine #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagines #literalhedgehog #lindsey horan imagine #lindsey horan x reader

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forthehpfanboys · 4 years ago

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Gold Strings & Red Picks- PT 1

Pair: Ron Weasley x Reader; he/him.

Summary: The Weasley's invented a band! Having a band, means you need a band manager; someone to help find venues, gigs and sponsors. After finding one, Ron seems to be hopeless drawn toward them.

Warnings: flirting, swearing, bickering, sexual tension??, Punk Pining Ron but also Smug Ron, naming a guitar ‘Cherry Popper’, dm me if I missed any.

Notes: I plan on having some chapters kinda spicy. I made an entire gif for this and yes it is Rupert playing 👀 and god is this self indulgent. Hope you guys like it!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWERE~

It was a Friday morning when you quit the Static Dragons and posted the news on every piece of social media you had. It didn’t take long for you to edit your bios to state you were looking for a new band, and it managed to catch someone's eye just as quickly. It was Monday evening when you got a dm on Instagram from a user called ddchrmrs-official. The user basically sent you a paragraph about how he was the lead singer of a band he and his siblings threw together and they were looking for a new manager. You agreed to meet with them and talk about the potential of the band and he agreed, using more than a few explanation marks after his reply. He even sent you a few of their songs once he deemed you worthy enough.

So, you found a dining hall, an equal distance from your house and theirs, and with the lead singer's approval, Fred, you booked it for Tuesday afternoon. Fred even made a post explaining the good news- why he was acting like one of the Weird Sisters followed him back, you weren’t sure. You couldn’t help but be excited too. The songs were good- more punk-rock than you assumed from the band's name. Something about the name Daydream Charmers gave off a softer, boyband type.

The day of the band meeting couldn’t have gone much worse. You missed your morning alarm, you couldn’t find your laptop charger and the clothes you picked out the night before ended up covered in stains from breakfast. GPS even gave you the fastest route and you still managed to be 10 minutes late, but you managed to find the right hall. It was a bit different compared to the pristine image shown on the website.

The roof looked like it was caving under an invisible weight and the actual size of the hall looked like a small barn. The walls were made of red and black bricks, most of which seemed to be chipped, broken or bending, like it was being crushed. The door frame was slanting, the door’s white paint was chipping, the sidewalk was splitting at almost every corner. You were desperately hoping the building was enchanted so it was bigger (and nicer looking) on the inside.

You parked your car on the pebble covered asphalt, right next to an equally old and rusty blue car. You had no idea how four people, a sound system, a bass, an electric guitar and a full drum set fit inside of the small wagon, but figured they managed to spell the inside bigger. You weren’t bothered by it- how could you be? You felt your wand hit your laptop inside the bag as you threw it over your shoulder after climbing out of the car. Shutting the door, you hurried up the broken concrete, shoving your keys in your pocket.

You chewed on your lip, adjusting the collar of your shirt as you approached the door. A smile pulled at your lips at the refreshing sound of genuine laughter and bickering. You had an internal battle of whether you should knock or just barge in. It sounded like they were having their fun and you didn’t want to interrupt anything. Soon enough, the laughter was dying down and someone was strumming a bass quietly, practicing a few chords from one of the songs Fred gave you. You raised a fist to knock on the door and the silence that followed was close to defining. Soft footsteps followed the silence and you swore you could hear soft breathing behind the door before it was yanked open.

“Hey! You made it! We were worried you got lost on your way here.”

You weren’t expecting to be face to chest with an individual. Their band's logo was printed across the front, red letters with a gold outline that clashed drastically with the bright orange fabric of the tight shirt. You tilted your head up, meeting cocoa brown eyes and a crisp white smile. His ginger hair was spread across his shoulders, his ear lobes were pierced with two shiny black flat stud earrings and the little white nostril piercing on the left side of his nose was reflecting the sunlight.

“Fred?” You asked, matching his smile. You could tell he had fun, you could sense it. His arm raised, inadvertently showing off his muscles, and rested against the door frame.

“The one and only.” He grinned, clearly just joking. Before he could say anything else, he was rudely interrupted by a foreign voice behind him. Fred’s smile dropped into a frown like he was suddenly slapped across the face.

“Is it the pizza guy?” The voice asked from somewhere behind him, excitement clearer than crystal. Fred looked over his shoulder to respond.

“No, Ron. That’s not for another twelve minutes.” He rolled his eyes after looking back at you and letting out a loud sigh. “I’m sorry about him. His appetite is larger than Big Ben and it literally never stops. Anyway, I hope you like pizza! I tried to message you about it.” He pulled his phone out of his front pocket, unlocking it and scrolling through his messages and swiping right on notifications he didn’t care for.

“I was using my phone for GPS. Must’ve missed the messages.” Your hands slid into your front pockets, your weight shifting between your feet as embarrassment began to settle in. Maybe this wasn’t the best first impression. Before you could think about it too long, a low whistle was resonating from beside Fred.

Without warning, Fred was being nudged aside by a slightly shorter ginger, his piercing blue eyes staring into yours. They didn’t stay there very long though. They slowly dragged down your body, taking in your form, and his head tilted in appreciation.

“Oh.. I’m not gonna complain about the pizza when Merlin delivered us a cutie.” He gave you a dizzying side smile. “What’s your name, sweetheart? Surely, it’s something as handsome as you are.” Just as quickly as he appeared, Fred was pushing him back, faking a gag while driving the unnamed individual back with Fred’s hand against his forehead.

“Ew! Ron, down! Seriously? Keep your yap shut! He’s our new band manager and I’d actually like to keep this one, thank you.” Fred groaned, a sneer pulling at his lips. He blocked the smaller ginger from the door with his body before turning back to you with a sigh. “I’m sorry. He’s usually not like this. Usually he’s moping about his ex-” You could see Ron jumping behind Fred to get another look at you. The reaction had you snorting into your hands.

“Fred. Fred, move, mate. I wanna see ‘im again!” The ginger whined, tugging at his older brother's t-shirt. He was dodging around Fred’s constant moving hands to get one more peek at you.

Fred let out a groan, his head falling backwards in agony before letting out a loud “George, please help!”

“Wait! Wait, wait!” Ron’s voice matched the panicked hand trying to hold onto the door frame before it was hilariously slapped off the wood and was dragged into the mystery hidden behind the lead singer. His begs and pleas began to echo and soften which you thought caused you to giggle a bit.

“I’m sorry. We’ll put a muzzle on him or something. Come on in, I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Fred shifted out of the door way, allowing you to enter the hall. It was bigger on the inside than the outside, that much had you relieved. Fred shut the door behind you with a satisfying click and let you soak the place in while he sat himself down on a velvet red coach. It was dimly lit, about half the lights were on, and the walls were painted a light tan, which easily could’ve been mistaken for white, if white wasn’t used for the tiling.

Next to Fred on the couch, was a girl with long, slightly darker, ginger hair. Her hair went well past her shoulders, and a bright orange base sat on top of her crossed legs. She had gone back to laying a few chords once you entered, just relaxing as her two brothers basically wrestled each other.

“Ginny, this is (Y/n).” Fred spoke up, pointing from his sister to you, then back to her. (Y/n), this is the youngest Weasley in the family, Ginevra.” Fred smirked, but it turned into a pained expression when she landed a hard slap to his chest.

“Except if you call me that, I will break your legs. It’s Gin or Ginny, nothing else. It’s nice to finally meet you, (Y/n). Fred hasn’t shut up about you.” She smiled at you, reaching a tattoo covered hand out to shake yours.

“Really?” You couldn’t help but grin. You shook her hand proudly, knowing it was probably your reputation that kept the oldest Weasley in the band chatting up a storm. “It’s nice to meet you too, Gin.” You gave her a cheeky grin before turning to the other side of the hall, noting another Fred standing in front of Ron, who was sitting in a chair quiet grumpily.

The double picked up a deep red guitar covered in stickers and shoved it into Ron’s lap, causing the younger to gasp out a wheeze. It was obvious he had chewed Ron out for his behavior, but nevertheless, he gave his unplugged electric guitar a few strums, which seemed to satisfy Fred 2 because soon enough he was storming back to the couch, shaking his head the entire walk there.

He sat himself down on the arm of the couch, right next to his doppelganger. His arms crossed back over his chest once again. Fred 2 had the same length hair, different piercings though. He only had one set of black earrings, but had an industrial across his left ear. He had a straight line of freckles across his cheek bones and right across his nose. The spots went down his neck and across his forehead.

“He’s bloody useless.” He grumbled out, his snake bite moving to the right as his tongue ran across it. “Oh, hi!” Fred 2 scooted over to the edge of the arm rest, reaching his hand out to shake yours. “You must be the band manager! I’m George, Fred’s twin bro-”

“Younger twin. I’m the oldest.” Fred interrupted, smirking again as he pointed a thumb to himself. His smirk dropped when he was smacked in the chest again- by both George and Ginny.

“I’m his twin brother. Ignore him, he has a God complex.” George rolled his eyes, smiling at you while he shook your hand. He pulled his hand away before scooting back to rest his back against the back of the couch. You could tell he wasn’t comfortable, but he seemed dedicated to the spot. “I’m sorry you had to meet Ron the way you did. Usually he’s tamer than that.”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, your gaze turned down to your shoes. Your cheeks were beginning to heat up as his flirting rebounded through your head again.

“Nah, he wasn’t that bad.”

“I wasn’t?” Ron’s sudden voice behind you had nearly jumped out of your skin. You spun around, your backpack strings nearly catching on one of Ginny’s bass strings. You swallowed down a squeak. “Georgie was trying to convince me I was being inconsiderate and rude and that mum would smack me if she saw.” He was still holding the guitar by the neck, and that was when you noticed the bright gold strings with a red pick trapped between them.

“Well, it’s not like you were asking about my shoe size… “ Your eyes landed on the hands holding the black neck of the instrument and you couldn’t help but gawk at them. Rings covered his finger knuckles, veins popped out from beneath his skin. “Wow.” You didn’t mean to verbally gawk over the hands, so you had to force your gaze down to the instrument and ignore the urge to stare at the pale, freckle covered skin that was making your mouth dry.

You shook your head, looking at the shiny strings. You had you stop yourself from reaching out and caressing the polished neck, the textures strings and hidden pick. It was clearly loved and carefully taken care of.

“Beauty, isn't she?” Ron grinned, showing off the red body drowning in decals- most of which were bright orange Quidditch themed or terrible chess puns. You almost forgot to check if they were a muggle band, but this told you enough. “My best friend got it for me, he’s a blessing. Mum didn’t approve, of course, said we all had better purposes, but dad said rock on.”

“She really is. I’m guessing you named her?” The second the question fell from your lips, the three sharing a spot on the couch groaned in agony, but Ron was grinning in pride.

“Of course I have! Her name is Cherry Popper and she’s the love of my life. Unless,” Ron was taking a step closer to you, a twinkle in his eyes as he continued speaking, “you plan on cha-” His flirting was cut off suddenly.

“And that’s enough of that! Please sit down and, for the love of Merlin’s beard, rename the damn thing!” Ginny cried out, almost knocking her own instrument straight into the tiled floor. She ran a hand through her hair, her free hand holding the bass hard enough to make her knuckles pure white.

“I mean, come on! Name it something classic like ‘Bertha’ or ‘Jasmine’, or, and here’s my personal favorite, don’t name it at all!” Fred waved his hands while he spoke, counting the names on his fingers before doing jazz hands at ‘don’t name it at all’.

“Fred, that’s hypocritical. You named your mic.” George spoke up, pulling two white marble drumsticks from his jeans pockets and began to spin one between his fingers.

“That was a joke.” Fred stuck his tongue out at his twin. “At least I don’t do it seriously. And leave Echo out of this.” Fred ripped the non spinning drumstick from George’s hand, holding it out of his twins reach.

“Shut up and give me Crystal back!”

“No, if you wanna talk about terrible names, we can talk about the band's name! Merlin, Fred, were you sky high when you made it?” Ron shot back, his arms crossing over his chest, one still holding the guitar.

Knowing this kind of fight could go for a good while, you slipped past him, patting Ron on the shoulder while you walked past while a pained gasp rented the silence that flooded the hall. You set your backpack on the white table, opening the zipper and pulling out your laptop. You sat down, pulling the laptop onto your lap before opening the notepad application.

“I made the name! And dammit, I think it was clever! It even has a unique backstory! At our school, we had a um- small business and it was quite successful. By ‘we’, I mean George and I and by successful, I mean we run an online joke shop. I thought it fit the shop pretty well.” Fred held a look of pride- a smirk was, once again, drawn across his lips as his eyes twinkled.

“Mate, it’s horrible.” Ginny spoke up, not even bothering to throw the truth as a curve-ball causing two of her older brothers to nod in agreement. She copied Fred’s movement by yanking the drumstick from his hand, but handed it to George, smiling at him.

“Why couldn’t it have been something cool? You named your shop something cool. Why’d you give the band something’ shitty?” Ron rolled his eyes, leaning his back against the door, the guitar balancing on his sneakers and leaning against his ripped jean covered legs. His attention didn’t stay with his siblings for long. Soon it was shifting over to you, like he was naturally drawn toward you. He grinned at you, sticking his tongue out. The little gold ball stamped into the middle of his tongue had your full attention.

You swallowed thickly. The ball and his guitar strings were the exact same color and reflected the same light. You felt butterflies fill your stomach from the simple action and noticed, almost suddenly, the ginger was actually quite attractive and funny. You sucked on your tongue, hoping the blush across your cheeks didn’t give too much away. Ron looked back at his brothers, his side grin screaming he basically saw your body temperature rise.

“I was led to believe you all loved the name, but no! I’m starting to think you guys are just trying to embarrass me in front of the (Y/n), but since you think it’s so easy, come up with a new one.” Fred cried out, crossing his arms over the printed long sleeve t-shirt, and was pouting like a child now, sinking lower into the couch.

“It makes us sound like a cheesy boy-band going after 12 year olds.” Ginny scoffed, propping her bass up against the couch. She looked over at her slightly older brother, nodding her head in Fred’s direction.

“It does. We could’ve been Fire Wicks.” Ron pointed at Ginny and the teaming up began. “Or like Solar Skips.”

“Or The Red Bloods.” Gin nodded, pointing back at Ron while her other hand pulled out her phone. The game was ‘Who-Cares-If-It’s-Bad-Let’s-Prove-Fred-Wrong’ and you could tell it was for shits and giggles. You were going to pitch in an idea, but someone beat you to it.

“Or FireBolt Bitters.” Spoke up George, who was now gazing up at the ceiling, shaking his head in mock shame, but you could see the edges of his smile growing at the corners.

“Ooh, I love that one!” Ron leaned over, stretching his arm as far as it could to give George a high five, before turning to look at you. He grinned at your confused expression. “Are you writing these down?” He pointed at your computer before giving you a wink. The butterflies came back, doubled in strength, and you couldn’t help but laugh. You shook your head no, laughing louder when he waved his hands in a panicked manner. “Write them down, mate!”

You rolled your eyes, typing random shit down just to please the younger one. Your eyes trailed across the dumplings, noting three quarters of them were smiling. Fred’s crabby expression made it was clear he didn’t get picked on very often.

“Charlie texted saying ‘The Copper Horntails’ would’ve been better.” Ginny said, looking up from her phone. She dropped the phone onto her lap, wincing a tad when the device collided with the instrument on her lap. She quickly forgot the pain and leaned back, enjoying her brother's pain.

“You asked Charlie?!” Fred squealed loudly, his hands holding his head. Right beside Fred, George had begun to tap his sticks together, improvising a beat to go with the arguing.

“You know what? That’s a great idea! Let’s ask Percy next-” yelled Ron over Ginny’s laughter and Fred’s agonizing scream. His smirk only grew when Fred tossed his head back.

“Ok, damn! I get it! But I already made t-shirts so deal with it.”

“Fred, we have magic. We can always change the print.” George piped up, tapping the white wooden sticks against his thighs in some random pattern, his head nodding to a beat. He shrugged his shoulders, not focusing on his words all that much,

“George!” This time it was Fred’s turn to smack George in his chest. He glared at him before leaning over to whisper in his twin's ear. It was something you couldn’t make out, but you figured they were debating over your status. You rolled your eyes, reaching behind you.

With a clear of your throat, you gained their attention before pulling out your wand from your backpack. While waving it, you locked eyes with Ron, playfully chewing on your lip to try to hide your smile.

“But-” Fred scrambled to grab his phone. You knew he was going to pull up one of your profiles to show none of them mentioned magic or wizarding or anything.

“The quidditch stickers were a dead give away.” You pointed to Ron’s guitar with the tip of your wand before putting it back in your bag. “That, and the tiny blue car that somehow carried four band members, and all of their equipment even though, that should’ve been impossible. I do enjoy Firebolt Bitters, though.”

Your own smile grew when the siblings broke out into loud snorts and sniggers, save for Fred’s. Ron walked over to you, and you were sure his cheeks were hurting from how hard he was smiling. He laid his arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side as he faced his band members.

“I like this one.”

A smile stretches across your face as your cheeks get warmer. Out of everything to come out of today, this was something even the strongest and most willed seer’s couldn’t have predicted. It wasn’t even half past noon and you’d already started to develop a crush on a punk guitarist who shares a band with his siblings. You were clueless on how you were going to do your managing and keep it strictly platonic when he grinned at you like you were everything he wanted.

#Ron Weasley #ron weasley x male reader #ron weasley imagine #hp x male reader #x male reader #male reader #ron weasley smut #hp imagine #hp fic #punk!ron weasley

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love-takes-work · 4 years ago

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Steven Universe: End of an Era: Outline & Review

I wrote this review in October but never got around to posting it here

Steven Universe: End of an Era is far more than an art book–it’s also a collection of behind-the-scenes material, stories about the experience of working on the show, planning documents and associated background info, and both older versions of developed concepts AND concepts that never made it into the show. It's a huge fusion of all those elements, and it's definitely an experience!

Some low-quality images are included with my review just to give you an idea of what’s there--it’s not a good substitute for getting your own copy, but here’s a tour!

Like the previous concept art book, Art and Origins, I'll be giving you a description of the structure and overview, while also collecting notable information for fans. Obviously just about everything is "notable" once again, but I'll aim for unique insight or perspective on the main source material, keeping the screaming about everything new to a minimum so you can also enjoy something for yourself if you pick it up. My low-quality photos should prevent people from feeling like I'm reproducing the book in any capacity. Please grab one while you can and have your own experience!

[SU Book and Comic Reviews]

OVERVIEW

The book is titled "End of an Era" for a couple reasons--obviously because it is released after the show has wrapped, but also because Gem history recently ended its "Era 2" and began Era 3--an age of prosperity and peace. The author--the person in charge of adapting all of this information into this slick, readable package--is Chris McDonnell, whose work was previously applied on the Art and Origins book.

The foreword is by N.K. Jemisin, a well-known science fiction author who's a huge fan of the show (and wrote a really excellent series that also has a weird geological connection, by the way).

And the cover, like its predecessor, is shiny and decorated with a beach scene featuring minimalistic characters--this time it's the Gems at night in front of the Temple, and on the back cover is a big pink leg ship in a cross-legged pose.

The interior covers are decorated with tons of amazing sketches of Steven and Connie on the front, and a bunch of Gem sketches on the back. Every interior page that most would leave blank is highlighted with some kind of sketch art or character exercise--it's so much to look at, so much to absorb.

The book is dedicated "For Eddie."

Its organization is different from the previous book in that it shares applicable work in chunks associated with groups of episodes rather than pertaining to different aspects of building the show.

FOREWORD

N.K. Jemisin gives us such a great introduction to the book--apparently understanding very well that the audience of this book is full of animation enthusiasts and adult fans more than it is full of kids, and explaining that bewildering journey some adults had from blowing this show off as a silly kid thing to falling in love with it hard and fast.

The important thing, Jemisin says, is being able to trust a storyteller with your heart. And it was clear to her that Rebecca Sugar knew what she was talking about and was saying important things about identity and the radical power that comes with accepting it and demanding respect.

Important also is how we handle heroes and who gets to be one in fantasy. That's part of the reason Steven Universe speaks to so many--because we see ourselves here, and know stories can be about us. Acknowledging the power we all have to MAKE THINGS BETTER with what we fight for is so important--especially if we're going to speaking to the next generation about it.

Highlighting Rose Quartz as a "born leader" who failed and Steven as a relatable scamp who did what she couldn't, Jemisin asserts that we can save the world.

1. END OF AN ERA

We start with an appeal to the audience to think about identity and the formative parts of our childhood--and how different it is if who you are and who you become is restricted, mocked, erased, or Not Allowed. Most people, if not ALL people, can relate to this, but for those of us with a special relationship with Steven Universe because of queer identity, this hits hard.

But it doesn't have to be anything grand to be something we respect--this show's authenticity comes largely from how personal everything is, drawn from real-life experiences and incidental truths from each artist's perspective, leaning hard on childhood and formative experiences.

Rebecca Sugar offers some interview bits to discuss writing philosophy and why "writing female characters" was difficult for a nonbinary person who'd been socialized as a girl and a woman. Rebecca has spoken before about how frustrating it is that marketing for cartoons was SO gendered when she was growing up (and to some extent still is).

The Gems in the story are all "she/her," but on their planet they're defined by their work, not by emotion or relationships (unlike women in our society), so having them be socialized opposite to how she was and be able to claim those emotions through choice and NOT as just an expectation "as women" was revolutionary. Rebecca wants her show to tell all marginalized people that they don't deserve to be in the margins.

Weighing in on other aspects of the show were Ian Jones-Quartey, Joe Johnston, and Miki Brewster. Ian describes feeling like at first doing SU was a thrill ride that meant they'd finally get to do all the cool stuff, but it quickly became a responsibility that he took very seriously--the need to tell a good story now that he'd been given a megaphone.

Promotional art, planning documents, character sketches, and concept art from the lighthearted to the stone serious is included, along with some very cool (sort of famous) timeline charts that track major characters' developments. It's emphasized by Rebecca that the developmental materials ARE NOT CANON (and especially are not MORE canon) compared the final show.

There are concept sketches alongside final art for Aquamarine and Topaz in "Wanted" (with Topaz labeled "Imperial Topaz"), the Zircons in "The Trial," Blue and Yellow Diamond, and the Off Colors (including Pink Lars).

And there's also a spread of "the two sides of Steven's life: Gem Magic and Rock N Roll" featuring Sadie Killer and the Suspects (referred to as "Buck's band")--as well as a cool "Crew Cameos" key and some concepts for short-haired Connie.

And then there's some more "finished" art with stills alongside concepts, including some background art, revision, and really cool "fairytale" art from some of the shadowplay storytelling bits. We get "Lars of the Stars," "Jungle Moon," and "Can't Go Back."

2. THE BEGINNING OF THE END: A SINGLE PALE ROSE

In discussing the huge reveals and Gem mysteries in the show, the pacing is examined, and emphasis is put on the intended "slow burn." One of the most difficult things in the show was to strategize so that every piece that was needed to support another piece in the future was placed properly to seed what it was supposed to.

Some of the ideas they developed were more of a group effort and were fit together collaboratively (like Amethyst's being younger than the other Gems and Jasper being from Earth), while others were intended from the beginning based on Rebecca's vision (the fundamental idea of Pink Diamond's true identity, for instance, as well as Obsidian's design and sword and our Pearl not being Pink's first).

The writing process gets a great deep dive here, including fun tidbits like how the orb in the moon base was inserted by Joe Johnston and they literally had no idea what it was for when they wrote the episode. They repurposed it when they figured out what they needed.

Rebecca credits her detailed timelines for helping keep the order straight, and discusses how other artists are sometimes flabbergasted that a storyboard-driven show can have this much detail and continuity and yet not get wrecked by the free non-scripted boarding process. But Rebecca and the Crew valued that approach and loved the way fresh eyes would handle an idea, making it come back alive, entertaining, vivid.

Several Crew members weigh in on the writing process. Lauren Hecht refers to making lots of incorrect guesses despite being on the inside. Joe Johnston recalled getting briefed on his first day and getting so excited to start working on this massive project.

Miki Brewster remembered being told Rose Quartz is Pink Diamond and being shocked--and also confused about why Ruby and Sapphire would need to be married if they're already basically married. Drew Green talks about being brought in late and getting to watch unaired episodes and a rough of the movie while eating cereal.

Ian Jones-Quartey complains about Pink Diamond's real jester-like form being leaked to the internet through a Hot Topic shirt. Rebecca piggybacks on that and says it was upsetting that the wedding was leaked because of toy fair keychains featuring Ruby and Sapphire in wedding attire. They'd always be worried about leaks, and sometimes Rebecca struggled not to talk about the reality of Pink Diamond before the reveal because she knew it would make so much more sense once the truth was out. And everything associated with Rose makes more sense once you know she's Pink--especially what happened with Bismuth, considering what we know about how Pink Diamond has a habit of treating anyone who no longer serves her interests.

When it comes to visual cues, Rebecca also talks about intentional designs to create a feeling of unity between concepts, like the flower shapes on Pink Diamond's palanquin lining up with the poofs of Steven's hair and the star imagery of the series. Steven Sugar and Mary Nash discuss how the Human Zoo incorporated this imagery, trying to look like Homeworld with a Pink Diamond touch.

Steven Sugar, as a game nerd, liked to throw in video game references from old and modern stuff to feel like he's inserting what he's enjoying and who he is from moment to moment, while Mary Nash, who related to Sadie as a basement-dwelling young person with cult interests, liked to include stuff from MST3K and cult movies. Pearl's hand gestures get a spotlight too--her reflex to cover her mouth when Pink Diamond was being discussed was analyzed here.

A "Top Secret Visual Timeline" from 2016 is included which tells us some Diamond history. It has an earlier version of Pink Pearl's fate and does not include Spinel since the movie hadn't been greenlit. The timeline includes the birth of the Diamonds, the emergence and major story beats for each major character, and some philosophy of the driving force behind each.

We're told that Pink Diamond straightened up, behavior-wise, after she lost her first Pearl, and that Yellow and Blue wanted to give her a planet but White only agreed to it to prove she would fail at managing a colony. Pearl, meanwhile, is so confused to have a Diamond who keeps asking her what she thinks when she doesn't believe she should have opinions.

And when Pink moonlighted as Rose to start conflict, she found herself leading an army to fight Pink's troops--then Yellow's, and eventually Blue's too. Lapis is said to be waiting for the conflict to end on Earth so she can terraform, but she gets trapped instead.

Pearl's love story with Rose is described as "an endless honeymoon" where she's free to love her, while Rose's is more like "I'm now the head of the family and I'm going to give everyone what they never had, so everyone is super special!"

Jasper is described as "adopted" into Yellow's army as the only successful Beta Quartz. And White Diamond knew that Pink Diamond was not dead--she thought she was just running away from home like a brat and would eventually be back.

3. THE HEART OF THE CRYSTAL GEMS

Now we discuss Rose Quartz--the original Pink Diamond. How she was selfish and selfless, never enough and always too much, and how Greg was her first partner who "challenged her" to be an equal. Rebecca describes Rose as being delighted by the idea that both she and Greg reinvented themselves, but when that leads her to want to share her past, Greg isn't interested--he only wants to know who she is now, and doesn't consider the old her to be her.

Rebecca likes Carl Jung's concept of "enantiodromia," which is the idea that extremes lead to their extreme opposite. This is demonstrated in all of the Diamonds. This narrative is interspersed with drawings of Greg and Rose being cute.

But another "heart" of the Crystal Gems is its relationships--particularly, Garnet, the fairy tale romance embodied. More psychological theories are discussed with regard to differentiation in a relationship making the relationship stronger, and how they made sure that happened for Garnet during the appropriate arc. Rebecca has struggled with the idea that she, like Ruby, went straight from a "family" group to a living-with-others situation and never lived by herself. But she also learned that you can in fact develop as a person in the context of a relationship--you don't have to be alone to do it. Ruby learned that too, and chose on her own terms to be with Sapphire.

The wedding made so much sense to Rebecca and the crew that they couldn't imagine a wholesome couple like Ruby and Sapphire not having a wedding episode. They wanted it for years: The wedding concepts always included the tuxedo for Sapphire and the wedding dress for Ruby.

But pushback (often blamed on the conservative standards of the international market) led to negotiations trying to keep Ruby and Sapphire's relationship from being explicit. Rebecca and the Crew were very tired of this double standard, and they were especially irritated by attempts to claim a wedding wouldn't be well received by a core demographic or wouldn't make sense for Steven's character. But other shows had done weddings and Steven had been established to love weddings already.

Rebecca kept adding more elements to the wedding episode to answer all the concerns, but she didn't want to back down from explicit marriage between these characters. They deserved it. And the audience deserved to see this as wholesome, like any other cartoon wedding. Eventually they got their way and were allowed to have the wedding. But the ordered episodes were also coming to a close without promise of more, so Rebecca had to request more episodes to be able to wrap up the storyline!

And of course, there is Steven, the true heart of the team. A very interesting aside discusses Garnet's leadership and how the network pushed the Crewniverse to acknowledge Steven as the leader. This was successfully resisted throughout as well--because Garnet is the leader (unless she's incapacitated, of course). It's fantastic that this concept was preserved because too often a young male chosen one is elevated above people with more experience and knowledge because of that chosen one tradition, so it's really nice to have a show acknowledge that team leadership is more appropriate for an adult.

4. ERA 3

Beginning with a discussion of the Diamonds, this chapter deconstructs the dysfunctional "family" of the Diamonds (who are said to be based on tropes about evil stepmothers and stepsisters), with the thread of dysfunction originating with White Diamond.

Yellow is physical, Blue is emotional, White is judgmental, and Pink is impulsive. Some philosophy on why Pink is naturally manipulative and why she clashes so much with White is offered.

White believes her identity is to be imposed on all because she is the pinnacle of what should be--and therefore, she has the right to make decisions and statements about and on behalf of everyone. But her secret is that she can't do what the others do--act or feel or want. In trying to be everyone, she is no one.

And this becomes very important when she confronts Steven about his identity and turns out to be wrong. The triumph of Steven being totally, fully himself is a beautiful, simple revelation that's described as far more satisfying than the theories about Pink living inside him or Rose returning from his Gem.

Also discussed is Gem architecture. A lot went into this idea, and Steven Sugar weighs in to say he had to think of what it would mean for a world to have buildings but serve no human needs. That's why it's mostly focused on transport and storage. Even the broken planet is meant to indicate a place stripped for its resources, and everything serves a function that is meant to avoid looking like the human equivalents.

And there's another layer, too: a difference between Era 1 and Era 2. Era 2 became more functional to hide Era 1's broken bits, and older Homeworld buildings still have some "ornate and ancient" feel to them. And the fact that props, tools, and even walls and doors could be living was taken from a concept Rebecca thought was horrible from old Busby Berkeley movies, where people were inanimate objects and it was portrayed as lovely. Tom Herpich helped conceptualize these living objects.

Steven dealing with "princess tropes" is discussed here too. The Pebbles (worked on with Pendleton Ward) were sort of his Cinderella's mice, and all the locked-in-a-tower, having supportive tiny friends help you, getting princess clothes made, attending a ball, having to mind your manners stuff was intentionally related to fairy tales.

The point of doing that (besides fun) was to easily invoke the feeling that Steven was being made to be someone he's not, and that he was being treated like THIS is who he really is when it isn't. White Diamond as the "evil stepmother" is discussed with regard to her detailed features and massive scale. They generally didn't put fingernails and eyelashes on characters (especially not to indicate that they were women or girls!), but they decided White would get all of these feminine markers for tradition's sake.

Rebecca also invokes several other references that were included and describes the princess tropes as "chipping away at his integrity" setting him up for the final challenge with White.

There is again tons of concept art: Homeworld architecture, Pebbles, Diamond diagrams, background Jades and Lemon Jade Fusion, Comby, Diamond extraction chambers, and White Diamond.

5. CHANGE YOUR MIND

Now we finally begin to discuss Steven's identity. The "Perfect Steven," discussed in several interviews before this book's release, was an idea back in 2013; the "ultimate Steven," beefed up and shonen-looking, was far from perfect because OUR Steven is perfect, while this alpha hero Steven idea (used in Steven Universe Future) didn't belong being idolized in such a show.

They thought about having Steven fall apart into organic half and Gem half early in the show (during "Giant Woman" after a successful fusion and unfusion, even!), but they didn't try the concept until the last episode. They didn't want the "Pink" Steven to be portrayed as "better" even though he would be more powerful, so they decided he isn't whole without his organic self and he's just as much of a shell as the organic half. They absolutely did not want any ending that required Rose to be inside him or waiting to come back. But the debates were fierce--what DOES it mean to have Rose's Gem?

Ian Jones-Quartey brings in an anecdote about his own family to emphasize some of the immigrant themes that inspired aspects of the show. He had a brother who reinvented himself elsewhere away from family without resolving issues, and all the ramifications of that were explored in the show through Rose Quartz. (He is careful to say he doesn't think his immigrant experience is like being from another planet!) But he did say you can hurt your old family even if they were toxic or didn't know the real you, and you can hurt your new family by hiding your past. The Pizza family of course was also a more direct reference to Ian's Ghanaian family.

In talking about the new Fusions from this episode, Sunstone is largely described by Miki, who also got to board the Sunstone section. Sunstone was described as a cool 1990s character and the evolution just continued into making them a fourth-wall-breaking PSA dispenser. Obsidian is also discussed, with their sword being an early concept. Steven Sugar said they totally knew it would be forged in action. Obsidian being similar to the Temple design is of course another very early detail.

The story of how James Baxter got involved with one of the final scenes (Organic Steven and Pink Steven fusing in front of White Diamond) was shared. His family was fans of the show and Rebecca Sugar took the time to drive to a birthday party for his daughter and give her a drawing. He then owed her a favor, and this was it.

Concept art is again included, this time with sample boards, promo images, a Diamond fight concept, costume design changes for the Gems, new Fusions, the so-called "Mega Diamond" ship conglomerate, some scenes from the White Diamond confrontation, Pink Steven, multiple pages of James Baxter animation, corrupted Gems and their healed selves, and photos from the "Change Your Mind" premiere and some awards. The show has won one design-related Emmy, a Peabody Award, and a GLAAD award.

6. STEVEN UNIVERSE FUTURE

The book doesn't cover the movie because it got its own book, but dives right into Future. Ian Jones-Quartey emphasizes that the movie and Future are separate and different from the original show, which ENDED. After all, after that, Steven has a neck!

Some new names are invoked now: new writers Kate Tsang, Jack Pendarvis, and Taneka Stotts. They were excited to have Steven make HIS OWN mistakes instead of trying to clean up someone else's! Now, instead of doing the usual shonen anime thing and having the final battle be a big physical rumble, Steven has to make peace with himself and take an active role in coping with what all the fighting has done to him and what effect it's had on who he is (and who he wants to be). There is no sudden "I love myself!" answer, either. It's always a process.

Drew Green and Maya Petersen, who came on board as storyboarders officially in Future, also weighed in on writing for a "mature" show, how to deal with Steven being a "moral compass" while being sort of unreliable, and what they learned as Crew that they didn't know as fans. Drew didn't know Garnet never asks questions. Jack didn't realize the show never deviated from Steven's point of view. Taneka was nervous but excited to collaborate. Kate was worried about how established the show was and what to do as a new writer to contribute appropriately.

Maya was on the old Crew but not as a storyboarder, so felt like some of the "old" ideas ended up not being appropriate for the "new" Future in an embarrassing way--and dreaded the idea of dealing with Steven's emotional problems when they were similar to stuff she'd been through. She also was personally behind the idea of Steven wanting to dump his problems by becoming Stevonnie, and got to work with Etienne Guignard on inventing the Pearl creation backstory with Volleyball.

There's some discussion of "depression hobbies," stress, and the show's pacing. And they say Etienne was entertaining at pitches. There's even some discussion of how Greg is taken off a bit of a pedestal because his terrible restrictive life in the suburbs sounded wholesome to Steven and Greg presented it negatively.

And then there is some information about how the Crew felt behind the scenes due to fan reactions and negative press. Ian discusses feeling offended when the Black characters are described as bad examples, as if their cartoonized but realistic-in-context features are automatically caricatures.

Rebecca Sugar felt beaten down by some of these narratives and began to access mental health services, inspiring some of the content of "Mindful Education." A long reflection from Rebecca discusses people's infighting about her show and what she had a responsibility to show or not show in the story. She learned a lot about bullying from Cartoon Network's anti-bullying program and learned that bullies thrive on whatever attention you give them--unless it is made clear to them by a peer group that no one is impressed by their cruel actions. Also, not all negative feedback is bullying. Constructive criticism is different. Self-awareness can help you avoid internalizing what bullies might do or say to you.

Segueing from the discussion of how people are affected by and connect with the show, we then discuss how they chose as a team what should be covered as the show came to a close. They didn't have time to do quite a few stories they wanted time for, like a Rhodonite story, a Lars side story, and Diamond "prehistory" and religion; all of it was put aside for the main arc with Steven.

They thought people would find those stories about Homeworld and Off Color history very interesting, but so much of the show had been about Steven's Gem adventures, so keeping him mostly on Earth seemed appropriate. The acknowledgment of his battle damage, of his trauma, was necessary and real, and helpful in an important way to the core audience.

Oh, and there was some stuff about a cheeseburger tree. Don't ask.

In discussing the "reverse escapism" of the original show (Gem aliens are intrigued by everyday human culture, and realism is necessary), Rebecca says her views have changed on escapism and gets why some people want a soothing feel-better show. She acknowledged also that her own escapist dreams-come-true fulfilled in the show didn't feel like escapism because they were givens to the majority of mainstream culture, but were never guaranteed to marginalized people.

Rebecca ties in her several-times-told story about "Love Like You" and how the middle bit was when she didn't feel she was worth looking up to, and the realizations she had to tie the beginning to the end. Feeling like someone will like you less if they know you more is terrible. So sometimes a show like this can be helpful in telling people that they belong when their fantasies are things like "I want to be loved" and "I want to know I exist."

In Future, Steven has to connect to who he is and love that person--and understand that person enough to finally feel that even if he's not fixing their problems or saving their world right this second, Steven deserves his family's love and support, and they WANT to give it to him.

There's a huge amount of supplemental material in this section so there's no way I could name it all. The charts for Future's timeline are pretty straightforward, though a few episodes like "A Very Special Episode," "Why So Blue," "In Dreams," and "Bismuth Casual" aren't specifically represented and a couple are in a different order ("Prickly Pair" was conceived as happening after "Fragments" and "Homeworld Bound").

Steven feeling like a monster, having intrusive thoughts, having not forgiven the Diamonds, and getting help/moving on--it's all there.

We have keys, color scripts, and boards for the new opening and some various backgrounds and storyboard art from episodes. Model sheets for Shep, Nice Lapis and Mean Lapis, Jasper, Steven Tag Gems, Pink Steven Powers, Monster Steven. New house concepts, Era 3 Homeworld concept art for the Diamond environments, and background art for the Reef.

New Connie and Greg designs. Concepts for Mega Pearl, the Rose Quartzes, Bluebird, and Morganite (who didn't get used). And there are some photos from recording and the conference room. There are even some extras from "Crossover Nexus," the crossover with OK K.O.!--including an unused cut scene that included Ruby and Sapphire fighting. The rest of the book is a bunch of adorable Crewniverse art--extras, blog drawings, promos, and gifts to each other.

NOTABLE

The first timeline chart in the book features a cool sketch of the original Off Colors, which at the time this planning document was drafted included unused Off Colors Flint and Chert.

We knew of their existence already because of an episode of the podcast, but these two unexpectedly appeared as incidental characters in the Steven Universe Future episode "Homeworld Bound," identified only in the credits. Sad to think that instead of banding with the Off Colors, these two were probably shattered for their crime (being Quartzes who don't want to fight) and that's why we see them being repaired in this episode. Later, there's some brainstorming for types of Off Colors and "a Ruby that wants to wear limb enhancers" is mentioned as well.

It looks like there was also originally more juice to the story of tracking down the events of the war culminating in Pink Diamond's assassination.

One of the timelines talks about Steven thinking it makes sense that Pearl can't talk about her involvement because she might have been a double agent, explaining why Rose Quartz always knew what Pink Diamond was doing. It seems like that bit was supposed to be included in Garnet's version of the story she believed in "Your Mother and Mine." Seems like they originally conceived Garnet's story to inspire the Off Colors to become pirates and freedom fighters, though in the show's canon this storytelling happened after Lars had already reinvented himself the way he did.

Sadie was also supposed to be sending letters to Lars via Steven, which is funny since the "Letters to Lars" episode is just a montage Steven letter. And of course it's specified that Steven was supposed to get Pink Diamond flashbacks by going to the Palace on Homeworld.

The second chart in the book makes references to Sadie's reinvention of herself as a parallel to Lars, Greg, and Pink Diamond all doing the same thing, and how positive it is to embrace such a thing--a version of yourself that YOU create.

I love that Yellow Diamond's arm ship arm-wrestling the Cluster was always part of the plan.

There's some more explicit direction to have Connie help Steven understand the Diamonds as "strict parents," and a lot more emphasis on everyone realizing Rose had been inspired by THEM rather than them all following her.

White Diamond is presented here as if she thinks of Pink Diamond as a "daughter" (whom she now understands she has "lost"). There are notes on how the Diamonds have a responsibility to their children and should attend to it before just continuing to make more.

One of the concept art images for the Off Colors features Rhodonite crouching by Padparadscha saying "Don't worry, I won't let them hurt you." It's very interesting because she DOES seem to protect Padparadscha in the show, but doesn't seem confident about it in her final version, even though it does seem like she'd be "programmed" to guard aristocratic Gems because of her Ruby and Pearl makeup. Cool.

A "Crew Cameos" spread was included, which is of great interest to some of us who loved seeing the Crew insert themselves into the show. Not every SU Crew person who's been represented in a crowd was there, but this crowd included Amish Kumar, Kat Morris, Amanda Winterstein, Angie Wang, Lamar Abrams, Emily Walus, Mary Nash, Joe Johnston, Christy Cohen, Danny Cragg, Hilary Florido, Danny Hynes, Matt Burnett, Ben Levin, Elle Michalka.

The official national flower of South Korea, Hibiscus syriacus, is the name of Pink Diamond's flower.

One of Steven Sugar's comments about the silhouette difference between humans and Gems points out that humans have ears. This seems to be pretty good confirmation that they are not supposed to have ears, despite that sometimes we'll see ears drawn on them in some frames.

Rose Quartz/Pink Diamond is characterized in this book as "self-hating" in a really interesting way, saying that because she believed she was not capable of compassion, she practically worshiped those who demonstrated that ability and thought they were so much better than her--which is described as "intoxicating" and resulted in others being drawn to her. How interesting is that!

Timelines reveal that early plans for Pink Diamond's first Pearl originally had her getting destroyed by Pink during a game, and then her destruction was rewritten as a punishment from the Diamonds after Pink Pearl defended Pink Diamond to the other Diamonds. They went back to the idea of her getting hurt by Pink for the final version, though the cracked face and control by White Diamond was not on the agenda until they started writing "Change Your Mind."

10.

The approximate ages of the major characters, based on emergence, are revealed on these timelines. It begins with a cracked-planet-looking graphic depicting four tiny Diamonds emerging at 20,000 years ago. Some suspicious "blacked out" redacting surrounds a long timeline tail that goes back before that, which may mean there are secrets they still don't want to reveal. But the dates go like this:

20,000 years ago: The Diamonds emerge.

11,000 years ago: Pearl is custom-made for Pink Diamond.

8,000 years ago: Sapphire emerges (on Homeworld).

6,000 years ago: Ruby emerges (on a colony).

5,750 years ago: Garnet is formed.

5,600 years ago: Lapis is poofed and put in the mirror.

5,200 years ago: Jasper emerges (on Earth).

5,050 years ago: The Cluster is planted.

5,000 years ago: Amethyst emerges (on Earth).

4,500 years ago: The Crystal Gems found Amethyst.

3,000 years ago: Peridot emerges (on Homeworld).

40 years ago: Pearl found Lapis's mirror at the Galaxy Warp.

And of course we know 14 years ago Steven is born!

11.

Originally the Diamonds were based on a quartet of themes: Love, Fear, Pride, and Sorrow. It got too complicated to keep and it was abandoned, with Pink's identification of "love" being described as "particularly outdated."

12.

Notes on a sketch say that Pearl was inspired to become bold and unashamed because Pink's questions drove her to have opinions, and it's said that Rose "fell in love" with her boldness.

13.

Rebecca tells the story of driving off a ridge and getting stuck in the desert, comparing this to Ruby's tumble during her Wild West adventure and using it as inspiration. She's told this story before but here it is in print. She also included the story about using the flowers from a friend's wedding to put in Ruby's hair.

14.

Rebecca describes having to "fight" notes she was given when it had to do with Ruby and Sapphire's relationship. One she describes as NOT fighting was for a signing card depicting Ruby and Sapphire dancing. It was called "too romantic" and she decided not to worry about it since it wasn't the actual show content.

She was also scolded over her book The Answer because the powers that be expected her to downplay that relationship. She always argued that queer youth deserved these things.

15.

Tom Herpich describes being inspired to name Blue Diamond's comb "Comby" because he was watching the news about Comey getting fired from the FBI. It's also a mineral-related term and I always assumed that reference was intentional, but maybe it's not and this is the only intended significance to Comby's name?

16.

Rainbow Quartz 2.0's design is not discussed, though the other two new Fusions from "Change Your Mind" (Sunstone and Obsidian) were. RQ2 has some sketches included, but no accompanying narrative in the text.

17.

A sheet of corrupted Gems and their healed selves is offered, though it doesn't appear to be final. The obelisk in "Serious Steven" is labeled Albite. The unnamed Worm Monster, Desert Glass, and Watermelon Tourmaline are included. An unnamed birdlike Gem represents the Big Bird monster from "Giant Woman." The crab monster from "Arcade Mania" is labeled Blue Chalcedony. The Tongue Monster is drawn uncorrupted but not named. The Flower Monster from "Back to the Kindergarten" is labeled Grossular Diopside or Titanite. The invisible monster from "Island Adventure" is labeled Moonstone. The Lighthouse Gem is labeled White Topaz. A form for Larimar that was used in "Change Your Mind" but changed in Future is there. The Slinker is listed as Chrysocolla. And the Crab Monster is listed as Aventurine.

On the next page, this is changed to Bixbite (as it was in Steven Universe Future), and we then also have Lace Amethyst, Blue Lace Agate, Crazy Lace Agate (Fusion), Ocean Jasper, the Mother Centipeetle Nephrite (Facet 413 Cabochon 12) and three other Nephrites, Angel Aura Quartz, a hooded Jasper, Zebra Jasper, Biggs Jasper, Watermelon Tourmaline (labeled as Fusion of Gem * Onion--huh?), Snowflake Obsidian, "Little" Larimar, and Orange Spodumene (who was the Worm).

18.

The Rhodonite side story would have been about the love story of a Ruby and a Pearl working for Morganite. Images of Morganite and her servants, unfused, are in the book. We do not get this additional information, but Rebecca said in a panel shortly before the book's release that Rhodonite's story would have been about finding out that she had been Rejuvenated 17 times because her components kept falling in love and needing to be reset.

19.

Referring to the Diamonds on one of the charts, Steven's perspective is "I can't believe I helped these" and then there's a censor bar. Welp.

20.

Some included art by Hilary Florido features Kevin with a souped-up Koala Princess car and another where Kevin is staring at himself in the mirror in front of an altar to himself.

21.

Rebecca's sweater collection is included in the Crew art.

[SU Book and Comic Reviews]

#steven universe #steven universe end of an era #su spoilers #long post #su merch #myblog

158 notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

Do you think you could do a ~spicy~ fic that is either the aftermath of the skirts thing with Sirius getting more comfortable wearing skirts now that he has one and Remus /really/ liking it or something about Sirius trying on lingerie bc I feel like that also fits

Yes, I can! The first part of the fic is here for anyone who would like to read it! Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for smut, mild praise kink, definite skirt kink

The instant the front door closed behind them, Sirius shoved the bag toward Remus. “Please put it on,” he said at the same time Remus pressed black fabric into his hand. They both started laughing, until Remus cupped his jaw and pulled him down for a deep kiss.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he sighed as he pulled away, taking his skirt out of the bag and heading for the hallway bathroom.

Sirius ducked into the office—he smiled as the soft material brushed against his legs again and tugged it gently into the proper position, zipping it up with extra care to avoid any catches or rips.

There was a soft knock at the door. “Baby? Are you done?”

“Mhm.”

Remus leaned on the doorframe with a slight smile, his eyes scanning Sirius. The red plaid brought out every warm tone in his skin. “Gorgeous.”

“It’s not bad.”

“You like it.”

“I do.” He hesitated and looked back to Remus. “Is that weird? It feels weird. I’m not going to wear it in public or anything, but—”

“It’s not weird.” Remus stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Sirius’ waist. “It’s just clothes. The whole point of this is to show people that guys can wear skirts, too.”

He nudged Remus’ nose with his own, leaning in for a brief kiss as his hand slid down to skim the waistband. “When you walked out in this…”

“I’ve never seen you so shocked,” Remus grinned, pressing closer to him. “Thought you might drag me into the dressing room then and there.”

“It was close.”

There was more heat behind their next kiss and he felt something pull at the hem of his own skirt. “I almost wish you had.”

Sirius’ breath rushed out of his lungs and he traced Remus’ cheekbone with one hand as he slid the other up his thigh. “With everyone there?”

“They would’ve left.”

“Merde,” Sirius muttered as he walked him backward to the couch; Remus let out a small oof when he sat down and Sirius settled between his thighs, attaching himself to his neck. There wasn’t as much space as the living room sofa, but Sirius was willing to let his feet hang over the end if he could bask in Remus’ smug smile for even a second longer. “Does here work?”

“It’s even better.” Remus raked his eyes down Sirius’ body. “Because this time, you’re wearing yours, too.”

“You apologized—” Sirius nipped the hinge of his jaw, making him gasp. “—to a mirror.”

“Shirt off. Off, off, off.” He was only too happy to oblige and began shoving Remus’ up as soon as his own hit the floor. “God, Sirius, if you could have seen yourself—it was a miracle I didn’t get on my knees the second you stepped out.”

“I take it you like it, then?”

Remus groaned low in his throat and slid his thigh along Sirius’ side; a hint of bare skin flashed as the skirt rode up, drawing a small whine from his throat. He made his way down Remus’ bare chest, leaving a trail of light marks that would fade before practice the next day.

Well, probably.

Sirius paused at the waistband to tug at the fabric just below Remus’ navel, looking up at him from under his lashes. Remus swore softly and let his head fall back as Sirius ran his hands up his thighs, squeezing the backs lightly before moving down again. “Anyone who says they have legs for days has never met you,” he murmured as he sat up and began kissing a line from Remus’ mid-calf.

“Oh,” Remus hissed as he bit down gently on the soft part of his knee. A shudder rippled through him; Sirius could see him straining beneath his black boxers, which accented the skirt beautifully.

“I’m being honest,” he continued. “Not only are you absolutely beautiful—” He emphasized each syllable of the last two words with a harder kiss. “—but you have the longest legs I’ve ever seen. It drives me fucking crazy.”

“You—you—hnn.” Remus’ muscles twitched as he reached the hem of the skirt and straightened his legs out again, smoothing the fabric down. “You look pretty fucking incredible yourself.”

“Who would’ve thought?” Sirius rolled some of the smooth skin between his teeth and Remus’ breath hitched. “I might keep it, since you seem to like it so much. I won’t wear it out in public, but maybe around the house…on special occasions…maybe surprise you from time to time.”

“Keep that up and I’ll come in my underwear like I’m sixteen again,” Remus panted, his back arching when Sirius finally got his hands under the skirt and gripped his hips. “I would’ve worn a skirt ages ago if I knew this would happen.”

Sirius had to pause for a moment to let that mental image run its course. “And I would not have survived.”

He saw the edges of a grin appear. “No, you would not.” The grin vanished when Sirius hiked the skirt up around his waist and closed his lips over the outline of Remus’ dick. His wavering inhale and the instant grab for Sirius’ shoulders made him smile as he mouthed near the head.

“Better?”

“No,” Remus groaned, shivering when Sirius moved lower. “Yes. I don’t fucking know, just keep going.”

“Careful, mon coeur,” Sirius murmured as he pulled away just enough to suck a hickey onto Remus’ inner thigh. “You don’t want to ruin your pretty skirt, do you?”

“Only if I get to make you ruin yours.”

“You like it? You think it’s pretty?”

“You know I do.”

He pushed one leg of Remus’ boxers up an inch and bit down lightly. “Tell me.”

“Oh god.” Remus jolted again, his hands flexing on Sirius’ shoulders. “Fuck, fuck it’s—you look incredible in it. It’s so goddamn short I thought I was going to lose my mind. And it’s soft, so soft, oh my god Sirius please.”

Sirius grinned and continued his work. “More.”

Remus whined; he was practically throbbing against Sirius’ tongue, even through a layer of fabric. “I know I said it earlier but your ass looks fucking perfect in a skirt and I wanted to touch it so badly but we were in public.”

“I thought you didn’t mind that?”

“You would.”

“How do you know?” Sirius licked a long stripe up his length. “Keep going, You’re doing so well.”

“You looked so happy in it, too. So excited, it was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. And—and the way you looked at me, I felt like the only person on the planet. You looked at me like I was the fucking sun, Sirius, it was so much.” He was babbling now, the ends of his words blending together as his breaths grew desperate. “I’ve never wanted to wear a skirt before but the look on your face knocked me flat.”

Sirius tongued the slit as salty precome darkened Remus’ underwear. “Good job, sweetheart.”

Remus came shaking and moaning, one hand bracing against the armrest by his head and the other with a bruising grip on Sirius’ shoulder. He quickly rucked his own skirt up around his hips, reaching down to stroke himself until he followed suit after half a dozen pulls; when the blurriness faded away, Remus was propped up on his elbows, disheveled and still catching his breath.

“I think we both need to change our underwear,” Sirius said after a moment.

Remus blinked, then burst out laughing. “Uh, yeah, I think so. Did you—?”

“Yep.”

“Damn it.”

Sirius frowned. “What?”

“I wanted to appreciate you.” Remus pouted slightly and wrapped his arms around Sirius’ chest, hauling him up so they were face to face. “You really do look killer in that skirt. People are going to be so jealous.”

“This might be strange, but I’m not nervous about wearing it for the video.” He rested his head on Remus’ collarbone and hummed as warm fingers began running through his hair.

“That’s not strange. I’m glad you’re comfortable.”

“Are you?”

Remus was quiet for a second. “Yeah, I think so. It feels kind of funny to wear something feminine, but not in a bad way. Just different.”

“Different? Us? Never.” Remus’ chest buzzed beneath his head as he laughed and Sirius smiled, placing a kiss to the nearest rib. He was still sticky and a bit sweaty, not to mention the wetness around his mouth, but there was no place he would rather be. He knew exactly where he was going to keep this particular article of clothing.

#sirius black #remus lupin #lumosinlove #sweater weater #coops #smut #skirts #my fic #fanfic

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wincore · 4 years ago

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summertime | wong kunhang

pairing: hendery x reader, side xiaocas

words: 4.5k

genre: childhood friends to lovers!au, first love, hs reunion, practically idiots to lovers, fluff, angst

warnings: none

a/n: warmup-ish fic. i don’t know why it’s so long either. loosely inspired by this. also hendery sweetest boy so i had to write something cute for him !!

When Wong Kunhang had hit you in the face with a volleyball coated in sand, you knew it was one way or the other with him. You were either going to fall in love with him or hate him for the rest of your life, and nothing in between.

It’s a little more complicated than that, you realize at twenty-one.

The neat asphalt is now a cool grey, not as pretty and dark as it used to be when you were in eighth grade but still clean and maintained. The stone walls on either side are certainly better off, marking the houses of the beachside town your school trip led to every goddamn year. Not that you were complaining, shining blue seawater has always been a favourite sight of yours. Kunhang was just the smiling bonus you held on to.

The road slants uphill till you can see the sunlight shimmering against the vast blue of the ocean across the horizon, dotted with the tops of palm trees and pastel buildings. It’s mostly at this point you realize that Kunhang’s been talking the entire way, and that you should nod along to add to the pretence, that you’re listening to him and not the loud drumming of your heart against your chest.

But Kunhang’s not here today. You don’t even know if he’s coming.

“Hey, (name), are you listening?” Yukhei asks, steadying the surfboard in his arms when you stop. “Are you thinking about Kunhang?”

The tone of his voice is teasing, but it’s as if you’re still thirteen, trying to come to terms with the first crush you’d ever had. Your cheeks grow hot and you scoff at him, snatching your tote bag from his arms and striding faster down the road. Kunhang can come, not come—you don’t care. For all you know, he’s enjoying his new life out there, as curious and fun-seeking as he is—was. He might even have found himself a lover, you realize as the bitter taste grows on your tongue.

Kunhang has always been special. Summer after summer, he’s only grown better at that.

Your parallel lines started growing distant somewhere in the first year of college. The daily facetime calls to describe the baffling wonders of adulthood slowly turned into weekly phone calls about the strain of assignments and projects and eventually, into faded texts you still look over on your phone. He’s just a friend, so you shouldn’t be expecting any more, right? It’s only ordinary that friends will grow apart. The city downpour that was slowly erasing his voice made you long for summer even more.

When you were twelve, Wong Kunhang had hit you in the face with a volleyball at the beach you always visited as part of the school trip. Somehow, with his weird sense and cutting enthusiasm, he’d offered the corner of his shirt to rub the sand off your face instead of a towel he’d find lying just about anywhere at the beach. (“The towels were definitely covered in sand! There’s no way beach towels aren’t sandy.”) And somehow, with your poor foresight, you’d felt an audible thump in your ribcage, the kind that only comes once. It was fitting, almost.

When you were thirteen, the thump grew into an entire orchestra. They settled in before you knew, and you realized you could neither accept them nor reject them. You suddenly couldn’t comprehend sitting beside him in class without nervously bouncing your legs, or laughing a little less enthusiastically at his jokes. You felt the turbulence of your pulse every time your hands touched as he passed you an eraser or a pen, or when his face split into a grin at you struggling to unscrew the bottle cap—it’s almost as if it were the end of the world whenever he breathed near you. You were painfully honest, so easy to see through and even Yukhei caught on to the fact that you had a thing for the weird yet lovable kid and his ridiculous smile. Kunhang, however, was probably in need of prescription glasses.

When you were sixteen, Kunhang learned how to play the drums and if anything, it made the heat bloom in your cheeks even faster. When you saw him play at the summer festival before the school trip, you wanted to stay there forever, just watch him do what he loves. Focused in the way he breathed and looking incredibly handsome for a stupid crush, you’d wanted to tell him then and there.

You’d made up your mind, or at least part of it, that this summer trip wouldn’t go to waste. Even the short-lived love of a young boy, you wanted to see it reflected in his eyes. That summer, just like every school trip, Kunhang had passed a volleyball to you in the outline of an inside joke that doesn’t get old; and you’d swallowed harshly, choking suddenly only for him to rub his hand over your back in the same gentle manner he did most everything.

When you think about it, you can’t seem to get over how much of an idiot you were back then. Kunhang was almost an even bigger one.

“I wish I’d get better at the drums quickly,” he’d said beside the campfire, tapping his foot impatiently.

It was only the two of you immersed in the night and if that weren’t reason enough for your incoherent thoughts, his knee was touching yours in a way oblivious to him—and the look of complete serenity over his face made you rethink your confession.

“You’re already good enough,” you huffed in disbelief.

“I can play two, er, three songs!” His voice was enthusiastic in the beginning but it hummed out to a mellow ending. He’d added in a determined whisper, “I need to practise so I don’t embarrass myself.”

Before you knew it, you’d let out a short laugh. Wong Kunhang, afraid of embarrassment? It was almost unheard of. You’d never met anyone so open before, so happy to share even the rougher, less tangible parts of himself.

Kunhang only gazed at you wordlessly, and when you met his eyes, the butterflies were let out of the cage in your stomach again. You wanted to lean in a little, kiss him right then and there, the image itself slowly curling around your head in haunting wisps as if something taboo. It didn’t make sense to you, to feel so immensely submerged in adolescent feelings—yet be comforted by his presence oh so easily. You know you weren’t the only one harbouring clandestine feelings. You’d seen them confess, you’d seen the few perfumed letters in his locker asking to meet after class.

Kunhang had turned down all of them. It didn't take solving quantum physics to realize he’d probably do the same to you. And you’d both end up losing a friend.

You’d swallowed whatever garbled confession that might have come out of your mouth that night. It’s better off this way, you told yourself, and you believed it for quite a while.

You wanted to hate him when you turned eighteen. You were going away to start a new life all on your own, and yet there he was, pretending that everything was going to be the same. Did he have to treat you so special? It wasn’t real, after all, the full wave of attention he gifted you, the adoring laughter and the occasional awkward head pats.

(And yet, every time you close your eyes, you wish it was.)

You wonder if Kunhang knows summer the way you do—sand against bare feet, having ice cream under a beach umbrella and most importantly, the scent of young love coating you in a thick layer of nervousness. Knowing him, he probably didn’t even notice the way you struggled to keep your wide grin secret every time he offered you the coconut flavoured ice cream. You wonder if he’s forgotten summer by now.

Yukhei catches up to you just before the narrow stone steps that end in the beach sand. You stop for a second, careful of the rock you always trip over (and the memory of Kunhang there to steady you with a laugh, unless he was the one who tripped face first into the sand) as you breathe out heavily. This is your high school reunion. You don’t have to think of your awkward teenage love right now. You can enjoy the coconut flavoured ice cream all by yourself.

You step onto the sand, taking a sharp breath at the full strength of heat that hits you. The towels and umbrellas are spread across the area, candy blue stripes everywhere your eyes visit, till your name is called by a frantic Dejun trying to get your attention. Summer feels hotter than any year you’ve visited and even sunscreen can’t protect you from the inevitably dazzling view you face.

After all this time, you thought he’d go away but the waves come crashing after all.

Kunhang has grown into a messy sort of handsome. His hair is longer since the last time you saw him, unkempt in the way it falls over his forehead yet still strangely neat. Even under the shade of the giant umbrella, there’s an unmistakable calm over his features—the look he often had on his face and no one would be able to tell what he was thinking, his own respite in broad daylight. The contrast between him and the blue around is crisp, like a sunlit field of pink tulips floating atop blue ocean water. It’s hardly been three years and he looks older, a bit more mature.

Kunhang beams when he notices you, the effect of it almost crushing as you try not to acknowledge the tidal wave of pent-up emotions.

“(name)!” he grins wide, jogging up to you. “I didn’t know you were coming. You didn’t reply to any of my texts!”

They vanished. Your words vanished again. Fidgeting with your fingers, you abruptly clear your throat before you can respond.

“Yeah. I, uh, I changed my number.” You bite your tongue softly at the lie.

He frowns. “Oh. Well, give me your new one.”

“I- I- I forgot my phone. At the- the hotel.”

You feel yourself cringing at your voice. It’s so...so embarrassing, every rise and fall. Kunhang blinks a few times before shrugging.

“Ah. I’ll get it later then.”

You almost immediately excuse yourself and beeline to Dejun sitting by the cooler, trying hard to hold a coconut larger than his hands as he raises a suspicious eyebrow at you. Of course it’s natural you’d go straight to the guy you see everyday at university instead of visiting the boy of your unrequited affections. It’s completely normal. What’s the point of a reunion anyway?

What you don’t expect is to be sandwiched between Dejun and Kunhang, the latter enthusiastically summing up each and every point of his life at university, the lack of control over facial expressions still prominent and you try not to let your heartstrings pull too hard. Dejun hums in intervals beside you, sipping at the coconut water he so struggled to get as Kunhang skilfully ignores the growing tension.

God, he really is an idiot. You feel like telling him you’ve been in love with him for eight years just so he’d shut up.

But after all this time, Kunhang has managed to remain himself. You smile. The sand in your hourglasses might not be flowing so differently after all. He’s still talking about most everything he finds fascinating through the smallest of details and you’re still willing to listen to the sound of his voice for hours. The scent of the ocean breeze that made you think of him, so you kept it safe—it’s overwhelming now.

Your vision is suddenly blocked by a pink paper cup, the spotless white ice cream in it already starting to melt. You turn your head to Kunhang trying hard not to make a face at you, biting onto the edge of an empty paper cup.

“You didn’t listen to anything I said, did you?” he asks with a click of tongue, after taking his cup in his hand.

You can’t help your sheepish laugh. “I lost you when you started talking about the campus cats.”

Kunhang scratches the back of his head, smiling. “I couldn’t get a volleyball today. They increased the rent rates by ten!”

“What, you were planning to rent a volleyball just to hit me in the face with it?”

Kunhangs face breaks into a grin, positively glowing from his eyes to the line of his nose to his lips. Maybe you don’t hate this feeling so much.

Dejun suddenly clears his throat beside you, springing up. “I’m- I’m going to go help Yukhei,” he declares, discarding his coconut somewhere over the sand.

“Help with what?” you ask, furrowing your brows.

Dejun coughs uncomfortably before shrugging and speeding off to Yukhei trying very hard to plant the wet surfboard in the sand. Somewhere in your mind, you already know the reason why he ran off.

You turn to Kunhang with a worried look, but there’s no sign of realization over his face. You almost sigh but catch yourself in the moment. Is it pitiful? He probably can’t even imagine you that way, maybe that’s why he hasn’t caught on.

Is it bad that you hate it? That you’re not satisfied with the friendly touches, the innocent smiles. You don’t want to keep it so pure after all—you want to run your hands through his hair, you want to twine your fingers through his, you want to feel the touch of a kiss with him.

Your gulp nervously once Kunhang’s features come into focus, still talking about something vague and nodding along to it at an uncertain rhythm. The sound of the waves come gently crashing, just as they do to the shore and the buzz of this place reminds you of all the time you spent here. What has been, what could have been.

“Kunhang,” you interrupt and he whips his head to you, eyes curious. You take a deep breath.

What value is there to words that you’re desperately trying to throw away?

“I- I’m going to go to the water,” you say, trying to cover up your nervousness. If it wasn’t any other summer trip, it’s not going to be today. It’s not going to be, at all.

If you can’t put it into words, will you be alone? You’re only chewing over your memories hoping they fade.

Kunhang springs up just as you stand, his sudden movement surprising you.

“I…” He begins but shakes his head with a subdued smile. His voice comes out softer than you expect. “Yukhei’s that way, if you’re looking for him.”

You blink back your confusion. “Ah, um, thanks!”

The more you try to lie to him, the less you understand yourself. But if you stay any longer, you might just spill the archived secrets, the words you should have burned in the campfire that night. You can fall out of love. It’s easy, it’s easy, you tell yourself—then why couldn’t you have done it earlier? Can you even do it now?

“What are you doing here?!” Yukhei asks, furrowing his brows as he gets up from the sand. “Where’s Kunhang?”

“I- I don’t know! Why would I know everything about him?” you grumble, hugging yourself.

“You are so stupid,” he states in response.

“That’s- That’s not something you should be telling me!”

Yukhei grabs your shoulder, shaking you hurriedly. “You should go back to him! The beach is one of the top ten romantic places, come on.”

“What makes you think I still like him?!” you hiss, trying to get his hands off your shoulders.

Yukhei stops abruptly, tilting his head to greet Dejun, who makes you jump out of your skin. You move apart from Yukhei, facing him with a sigh.

Dejun tries hard not to pull a face, notifying that your other classmates are here, and it’s a lot more likely some of them are still heart-eyed for Yukhei. The two of them seem to share an inside joke as they laugh and you raise an eyebrow, not even bothering to decode the situation.

The brunch idea was probably Dejun’s, considering how smoothly things run. The whole renting out half a bar idea was probably Yukhei’s, considering how much of a wild mess it is. The place is perfectly snug, warm and just enough for a former high school batch, right by the beach where the sand meets asphalt. The laughter and conversations overpower the low jazz undertones of the music playing through the speakers and you find yourself smiling when someone or the other reminds you of all the high school ventures you’d had under the teachers’ disapproving eyes.

“Remember when Yukhei stole the rabbit from our school garden?”

“That wasn’t even worse than when he accidentally fired the water hose at Mr. Liang!”

“Oh my god, you remember putting on makeup in between classes without getting caught?”

“Or trying to steal lunch from me, you big bully?”

Really, seeing old faces after so long and then the same faces hammered only a few hours later might just be another one of the ‘fun’ things you’ve been missing out on.

There’s Shuhui, Lunmei and Linlin—girls you didn’t get to talk much with during school, but you remember Shuhui’s face from middle school. There’s Yukhei’s friends, Shihao and Taishun, who you think you exchanged a whopping total of sixteen words with throughout high school. Yet now, with everyone gathered here, it feels like some sort of a haven of reminiscence, like you’d known each other all your life (which, to an extent, you did). It’s comfortable and warm, the blanket of old connections.

You take another sip of the punch. It’s not enough to get you drunk but it's enough to shift the gears in your ribs to begin the steam engine you can’t find the brakes on. Your face is hot, Kunhang finally not the reason behind it, and you sigh as you glance around the room slowly.

It would’ve been quieter if Yukhei somehow hadn’t started this chain of confessions. Dejun is still struggling to keep him seated, a warm blush over his face when he has to wrap his arm around Yukhei yet again while the others continue chanting “confess! confess!” to the next unlucky victim guilty of harbouring an unspoken teenage crush.

You shake your head at the whole scene, sighing once again as you lazily swirl the remnants of your drink in the glass. The night will be over soon, and you’ll go back to your own paths. For now, you can pretend it’s all just another summer adventure.

Yukhei clears his throat, everyone’s eyes turning to him instantly. “I’m sure there’s one more confession left!”

There’s a bunch of cheers and you feel your heartbeat quicken when Yukhei shoots you a knowing smile. Your eyes widen, your throat suddenly feeling dry and you turn your head to meet Kunhang’s eyes. He looks at you with no hint or clue about the reality and you look away before it fries your nerves out.

“You’re going to thank me after this, Kunhang,” Yukhei calls, a teasing lilt to his voice and the boy in question simply shakes his head, grinning in polite confusion.

You look around in panic, from Yukhei to Kunhang and wonder if you should open your mouth. You take a breath before a roar of cheers interrupts you.

Shuhui stands up, rosy-cheeked and wobbling at the knees. You catch Yukhei blinking with furrowed eyebrows but nodding anyway, as if the decisive president in a heated debate.

“Wong Kunhang!” she calls before coyly confessing. “I like you! I’ve liked you since eighth grade!”

Is it the alcohol? Or the cruel realization that your mother was right when she said summer makes people fall in love? There’s another round of cheers and applause as you get up discreetly, sneaking out the door a few steps behind you. You don’t think you can stomach the sight of someone else’s arms around Kunhang, his loving attention drawn to them.

The night air is cool, the bushes lining the sidewalk buzzing with cicadas as you step over onto the soft, warm sand. The campfire has been reduced to blazing embers, no one there to kindle it as the night progressed. You hug yourself as you walk, the calm over you strange, uncharacteristic.

Even if it’s not you and him after all, you should have said something. You’re only a coward, slow and naive in a world too fast-paced, unable to face a reality that’s your own. You couldn’t even stay in that room a second longer. If only your chest didn’t waver so easily, your heartbeat didn't grow erratic.

You walk closer to the water, waves lapping quietly against the sand, a hush over them as if they do not know what to say to you. What do you say to someone on the verge of heartbreak? Consoling your friends at university taught you next to nothing, your own seeming beyond your help.

“(name)!”

You feel your breath hitch, hesitant in turning around. There’s a moment’s pause and when you don’t turn, Kunhang tugs at your wrist, pulling you to him.

It’s getting so that your heart can’t even flutter anymore.

Gentle and kind, and so willing to give, Kunhang could never really leave you alone, could he? He looks at you with wide eyes, almost like a puppy lost on the streets. His pale pink overshirt is hanging loosely over his shoulders, unbuttoned all the way over his white T-shirt, his hair tousled by the wind and words yet resting on his lips. You forget to breathe for a few seconds and when you inhale sharply, the onslaught of your feelings comes toppling over you.

“I hate this,” you choke on the words. “You should be in there.”

“They’re still celebrating. And drunk.” He shifts nervously.

“I hate you,” you say, not finding meaning in the words. “I hate you so much because of how stupid I was- how weak I was.”

Kunhang’s eyes shimmer with something unfamiliar, lips quivering before he steadies himself, drawing nearer.

“That’s not fair,” he whispers, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

You purse your lips. It isn't fair—who are you to blame him? He doesn’t deserve the vomit of emotions from your popped balloon of a heart. You bite your tongue before you can spit out the poison-infused words.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, voice hoarse and still angry, “I wish I told you earlier. How much I liked you. How much I wanted to be with you.”

Kunhang stays quiet, hand not ready to leave your wrist yet, the part where his thumb rests searing hot.

“I thought I could pretend I never liked you at all,” you say, biting your lip. “I thought that if I faked it then it would go away but Wong Kunhang, I- I’ve liked you for so long that I don’t know what it’s like if I don’t.”

Why are you crying? It’s like the emotions you’ve hoarded all these years have somehow found an opening to burst through, in a stream of colours that paint you in embarrassment. You feel the blood rush to your cheeks and nose, as you vigorously rub at your eyes so the tears don’t escape in so obvious a manner.

“I- I tried going on dates, I tried- I tried all those stupid blind dating apps, I tried to focus on my major and making new friends and- and still…”

Doesn’t the rain fall in times like these? Yet there’s only the hot blanket of summer, with its swaying sea wind and calling cicadas resting in the vibrant bushes.

“I didn’t want to force all of this on you. I’m so—”

It’s only fitting that the stupidest sequence of words would leave his lips.

“I thought you liked Yukhei,” he says quietly.

You pause, uncertain of what to do and breathe out in annoyance. “Kunhang, for the love of god, where did you even come up with that?”

His cheeks colour ever so slightly and he clears his throat. “I don’t kno- I just- I kept giving myself excuses too. I’m sorry.”

The wind makes his hair sway lightly by his eyes, the stars glowing cool blue in them. Whatever the ebb and flow of your feelings were, they’re crashing against the sand, violent and sorrowful at first till the moon tames them into something warmer.

And then it happens again. Kunhang smiles, shoulders relaxing. There’s a moment’s pause.

“I- I’m not good with this.”

When Kunhang presses his hand against your jaw and leans in a little, eyes waiting for confirmation, the drumming in your veins is so loud you can barely comprehend the movement of his actions. You shut your eyes almost instantly but Kunhang accidentally bumps your noses a little too hard. The two of your wince, your hand flying to your nose as a muffled cry of pain escapes your lips and he looks at you worriedly, his fingertips pressing against your cheek softly.

You choke back a laugh but it bubbles up anyway, his own following after an embarrassed pause.

“I think- I think I was a little nervous,” he admits, looking down and then back up to you.

“We can...we can try that again,” you hum, biting back a smile.

Kunhang’s hair is in fact softer than you’d expected, and when you run your fingers through them, he smiles into the kiss, his hand at the small of your back pulling you closer. Nothing’s like you daydreamed of and yet everything is in place, the shared warmth growing with each passing second.

It’s blissful for a few moments before you’re interrupted by a drunk Yukhei to “get it” and you jump apart from each other, flushed hot in the cheeks. Dejun apologizes for his boyfriend, waving at you guys to continue whatever the hell you were doing before tugging Yukhei along with him.

You clear your throat awkwardly before plopping down on the sand, face buried in your hands. Kunhang follows slowly, legs outstretched towards the ocean. You peek to see him smiling at the sky, leaning back on his hands and the look you love seeing on him.

“Kunhang?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t- I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Even if you didn’t like me back then.”

Kunhang turns his head to you, eyes earnest as they trail across your face.

“You don’t have to be brave.”

He reaches out to fix the hair from your eyes, a gentle touch to them as ever, but this time there’s a stronger meaning to it, almost as if he’d kiss you again right then. The two of you smile, twining your fingers somewhere along the night as he tells you to rest your head on his shoulder. The waves sing softly to accompany Kunhang’s chatter, the feeling almost unreal when you feel his pulse against your thumb.

What has been, what could’ve been—they’re barely a breeze to what really is.

#wayv #hendery #wayv scenarios #hendery scenarios #nct scenarios #hendery fluff #hendery imagines #wayv imagines #nct imagines #wayv fluff #nct fluff #wong kunhang imagines #childhood friends to lovers!au #hendery x reader #yes im back with another cheesy as shit fic what are you going to do #moonwrites

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lifewithsyfe · 3 years ago

Text

PLAYING WITH FIRE

Not quite sure how to put this into words, but someone else needs to know what I know. This story can save so many people and I won’t feel right until it’s consumed by as many as possible. I can’t express how many times I’ve tried to get this out. I almost even gave up on it, but God wouldn’t let me. So, let me make another attempt at it - this is how I escaped the devil:

It was a Friday night, April 5th, 2019.

I’m at El Rey on U street, having a few cold ones by myself. Just got off work, taking it easy...

Then, I end up running into and old “friend” I used to hangout with. Known him for about 7 years at the time: (Dave) - tall, black, dreads, above average build.

After a couple of drinks, he asks if I want to hangout at one of his friends house. Said we can smoke there and that she has a lot of drugs.

So I accepted cuz I was originally going to let the night unravel on it’s own and it didn’t sound like such a bad idea at the time.

It was a habitual routine I developed during my heartache…

I’d go out alone, run into a group of people I knew, bar hop ‘til we ended up at an after hours spot (or someone’s place) and shamelessly sleep my next day away.

So we get to the front of his friend’s building and it’s like a 60sumn-year-old lady:

(Robin) - fat, white, short, blue hair, top row gold grill and “ride or die bitch” tattooed on the back of her neck (amongst a couple others, but that one stood out most cuz it was in my face, while she was unlocking her apartment door).

At first, I thought it was a descriptive-type of tattoo. Like, she was saying that that’s what she was.

But in retrospect, it was almost like it was something she was saying to me - you’ll see what I mean later, if you don’t get it now.

Oblivious to what was about to happen next, I continued to walk through that door...

Something felt off, but I just figured it would be something low-level weird.

I’m always seeing signs that show somebody dabbles in magic or the dark arts, but I figured “if I’m not actively practicing divinity or doing weird rituals, it won’t personally affect me…if I don’t create a ceremonial invitation, then I’ll be okay.”

Now, I’ve already had a good amount of spiritual experiences at this point (good and bad), but for some reason I just didn’t think anything like this would happen…at least not to me.

I thought I had it all figured out, cuz I thought I’d seen it all - or at least enough.

I should’ve known though…I was just so emotionally numb at the time, I was doing anything to feel anything.

I mean aesthetically, she looked like she’d have a few good stories or something. Needless to say by now, but I ignored the red flags.

So, moving forward...

We walk in, sit on the couch, watch skate videos and start breaking down.

After a few minutes of small talk, they offer me some acid from a vile. Emphasizing how it was very high grade stuff - but I didn’t need much convincing anyway.

I was very into psychedelics and considered myself extremely experienced in that realm.

But just because I did it a lot, didn’t mean I was. You couldn’t tell me I wasn’t though.

It was usually my go-to for when I needed that unrivaled escape from reality.

So yeah, I took the witch’s brew thinking it was something I considered fun.

Once it starts to kick in, I can feel her beginning to stare at me from the end of the room - with a big grin on her face.

She then suggested that I take my jacket off cuz I’m going to end up getting really hot, and cackled like it was the funniest thing the world to say.

It was something she said a couple of times too. At first I didn’t know exactly what she meant, I just thought she was a basket case - but she was implying that I was going to end up in Hell…you’ll see what I mean.

A few moments go by and they suggest we move the party to the rooftop cuz her place was limiting and we could see more from up there.

Plus, she wanted to blow bubbles…and I figured “tripping indoors is boring anyway, why not?”

Now because I took my jacket off and left it in her apartment, I began shivering after a while.

I didn’t expect for it to be that windy, I wanted a nice little breeze.

So she says she’ll get me one, cuz she had to go in for more soap anyway - comes back and asks to put this fur coat on me.

It was a nice coat, so I let her.

So I’m cozy now and she gives me a tour, showing me the cool visible parts of the city.

Telling me not to be afraid of my true potential and that I can obtain everything I want.

I was feeling pretty good about those words, until I thought “that sounds familiar…what if she isn’t speaking in general?” - but I just chalked it up to her being an old hippy.

She then grabs my arm and tells me to look at this red wall, as we walk to the other side of the building. I figured it’d be something visually enticing she was trying to share, but this was going to be her first attempt at hypnosis.

She asked if it felt like my soul was being massaged - encouraging me to ride it out. Essentially, trying to get me to put my guard down, saying “this is where dreams become reality.”

Then, I began seeing holographic outlines of people in the wall. The traces reminded me of a glowing snail trail.

Right after, I saw myself turn into a block of flesh and almost being slid into the wall if I stared any longer.

But like I woke up in one of those falling dreams, I snapped out of it.

With a laugh attached, she says “damn, almost!”

And that’s when I stopped letting myself be completely naive. The veil was clearly being lifted before me and I needed to be alert. It’s just, I had this slight muffle surrounding my common sense.

Now I knew hallucinogens were considered sorcery in the Bible, but I figured - one more time won’t hurt. It’s not like I wasn’t still smoking and drinking.

It’s just crazy, cuz it was after learning about what the fallen angels taught us, is when I decide trip again.

I blatantly chose to play with fire and defy God that night.

See, these hypnotic spells are telepathic contracts. Once the manipulator is installing a vision, it’s at the last second where it becomes your choice to see what happens next.

It nudges at your curiosity, feeling like it’s a part of the trip you’re supposed to let ride out.

But every time I almost did, my heart wasn’t having it and I’d snap out of it again.

Every time she would cast a spell, I could feel my soul almost getting pulled out - with a malicious presence surrounding me.

The goosebumps I got from this thing, felt like it was ready to defile me in every way possible.

In disbelief that what I thought might be happening, wasn’t - I tell myself “let me not cause a ruckus for no reason, I am trippin’ after all. Think of something positive.”

But now my eyes are shifting everywhere, cuz I keep getting a glimpse of whatever’s approaching.

Even with that many peculiarities, something kept me in denial.

Still though, she tries another set-up and tells me to look at how high up we are, as she gestured for me to look down from the rail. As if I didn’t already know, but I go cuz I also didn’t want to be rude.

So I grab the rail and lean over…

(Dave) says “don’t let go,” giving me this wide-eyed look with a smile and said “you feel it, don’t you?”

Then just like that, my heart jumped and my mind began getting flashes of demonic symbols and images like subliminal messages.

My vision was about to go black, like the circle closing at the end of a cartoon…until I snapped out of it and backed up with my head on a swivel, angrily questioning them.

That’s when I caught (Dave) behind me, quickly hiding his hands.

Now I’m on survival mode and it feels like I can’t even make a step without risking my soul. I can feel that I’m being made a fool out of, but of course they gaslight me and try to calm me down…

I still didn’t want to believe I was in this kind of mess, but I’d be naive to let all that slide so easily.

So with caution, I’m trying to plan my escape - playing it as cool as I can, but my body is getting heavier by the second.

She then lifts her speaker and says “listen to these different frequencies, it can change your mood.”

I really wasn’t trying to listen, because I needed to leave and I didn’t trust her at all now. Especially not with anything sound related.

But then out of nowhere, I hear a distorted garble come out of the speaker and hit my ear.

I said “huh!?”

Then (Dave) was like “oh, you heard that...?”

I looked away and acted oblivious, cuz I felt that if they knew I could hear that, they’d bring out the big guns.

(Dave) laughed, saying to Robin “wait, he still don’t know what this is yet?”

Unintentionally, or intentionally letting me know.

So I tried to leave and they started laughing. Trying so hard to keep me there…

(Dave) said “you already ‘bouta do it, it’s better this way anyway.”

Then he was like “look at my hands, this shit trippy, right?”

Followed by him creating an infinity symbol with his waving hands.

Now this infinity symbol was made of light and floating in mid-air in front of him after he did it.

Right after that, he did the hermaphrodite/goat-headed deity’s pose, flipping his hands and head perfectly in a stiff dance.

Which then caused me to see it’s true form in my minds eye. I snap out of it once again, trying to get a hold of my reality.

Once I can see them again, it’s like time stood still and only I could move.

I’d look around and they’d be frozen.

At this time, I can hear them having two conversations, simultaneously.

All I caught was (Dave) say “he can’t hear us in this plane.”

Then as he slowly got up - like I was tuning through a radio, I hear a screeching static clear up. The sound then becomes like an electronic bleating and bellowing from a goat, in-sync, surrounding him.

At this moment, I’m a part of their their collective conscious conversation - essentially telepathy.

Then they began letting me know who they were.

Saying that they were angels, that they were around before us and that I can be like them.

The whole time they were talking to me, they were trying to weaken and hypnotize me with hand signs - trying to convince me. Thing is, when they did try to convince me, they’d always talk around the subject at hand - but once you know what the subject is, the situation becomes clear.

A lot of people might think they’d get physical and get out of there. I just don’t think they’d understand how it is fighting sleep paralysis, awake.

I also knew that one false move would take me to the ‘sunken place.’

I knew I couldn’t just stand there though, but right before I grab the door to get to the elevator, (Dave) says “okay, you gon’ be waiting on that elevator forever; this is a REAL trip…c’mon, I thought you liked this shit.”

Mockingly he asked “yeah, I guess you gon’ think twice about taking LSD again huh?”

I was thinking in my head “fuck, did I really just lose my soul? Is this how it happens? Is this where it all ends?”

I thought that was it, so I was about to give in and accept the offer - see what benefits I could get, if any.

Then from there, every time we almost sealed the deal, I would feel a hungry fire approach me from behind.

The one time I decided to look for where it was coming from, I got a vision with an orange blur in it - slowly materializing, until I could make something out of it. With the bit that I saw, I knew it was me being swallowed by fire and not dying.

Immediately after, almost as if I had touched the flames themselves, I yelled in confusion “wait, what? No! Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior!”

To which (Dave) nonchalantly responds “okay, you do that...that [N-word] died a long time ago.”

I look at him with disgust and continued to pray.

Telling God that He would never abandon His children if they encountered evil and that if there was a way for Him to save me to do it.

(Dave) says that I’m blowing his trip and leaves to the gas station.

At this time I could’ve left, but I still didn’t want to be alone in an elevator with him.

So as I’m praying, I begin to feel the dark grip they had on my heart loosen up. It was like my heart was pumping electricity throughout my body, then all around it. I could feel the forcefield - Christ had arrived and I could move my body freely. No more fear in taking the wrong step.

So on (Dave’s) way back, (Robin) announces it and says let’s go downstairs and get him. That’s when I hear (Dave) say - not yell, “open up” from all the way downstairs and I was amazed...I was like “wait, can he still hear me?”

With him responding “DUH! Damn, you some shit!” and continued on his way.

So if I was to leave, this was going to be my chance.

In the elevator she tries enchanting me again, but I rebuked every attempt.

I’m trying to maintain focus the best that I can, so I don’t slip - which made this elevator ride unnecessarily more intense than it needed to be.

Once the elevator door finally opens, I see (Dave’s) silhouette behind a thick glass rail, carrying an ominous slouch.

Walking towards me, he notices that I’ve calmed down. So when he sees my face, he smiles and asks “oh, you’re good now?”

I replied “I am and I’m not with the goofy shit y’all up to - I’m gettin’ the fuck outta here.”

So as I’m walking towards the exit, he yells “that’s not the way out!”

To where I respond “fuck y’all!”

You would’ve thought I opened the door before touching it, the way I left out so fast.

As that door closed, I did a little jog to get across the street.

But a few seconds later, I feel this tingle in the back of my brain, as though it had neck hairs that stood up.

I look over my shoulder and noticed he decided to follow me…of course. Shortly after I noticed him - with that bull-like slouch, he started running.

Now I was a little ahead of him, so I didn’t start running yet. I had to make sure I knew where I was going before exerting my energy.

Every time I moved my head, I could feel the tingle coming from his direction.

So there was no losing him - but I am fast.

I couldn’t call a ride because my phone was dead and I couldn’t go to anyone’s house at the time, cuz it was around 5am now.

As (Dave) got closer, I felt my vision going black and my body getting heavy again. A lot stronger this time…time to kick it into high gear.

Once it clicks into my head that the easiest place to catch a taxi in such a heated moment would be in Adams Morgan, an opportunity presented itself.

Ahead of me was a crosswalk and the orange hand was counting down it’s last seconds. Everything I ever learned told me I wasn’t going to make it, but I wasn’t going to stop running either.

So when my foot lands off the sidewalk, is when the cars to my left and right begin to move.

That’s when everything moved in-slow-motion…and a burst of energy launched me across the street.

I’ll remember that moment as my own Air Jordan.

That moment bought me time, but he kept going too. This is when I start hearing echoed garbles crawl off buildings and jump into my ear “you acting like a bitch - come back!”

Perfectly as if he was next to me…I look behind me and it’s like he hasn’t broke a sweat. Completely focused.

From the gas station diagonal to the 9:30 Club, to the McDonald’s in Adam’s Morgan.

My body wanted to give out most of the way, but soul wouldn’t allow it.

I just had to keep running until I found a taxi - which I did.

That’s when (Dave) caught up, yelling “you look like an unk right now!” cuz 4 taxis stopped for me in that intersection.

To where I respond “I don’t give a fuck, I made it out alive!”

I get in the car and tell the taxi driver to drive towards Maryland, that I’ll give him the address on the highway.

Finally, after surviving a living nightmare, I made it home.

I went to my room, played some worship music, got on my knees and wrung myself out of tears to Christ.

Afraid to sleep because I knew they could contact me in my dreams.

So I didn’t until the drug wore off in the afternoon the next day…

I even felt that burn on my back as if it was sunburn for the next couple of weeks.

I’m so grateful to still be alive, because I’m 100% positive I’d be in Hell (with something else in my vessel) if I didn’t call on God that night.

It was like I was tiptoeing on a needlepoint to keep my soul.

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ayyyez · 4 years ago

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heyy ! can i request some headcanons about neji and shikamaru waking up with a boner after having a wet dream with their fem crush ? like how do they feel about it, how do they act when they see her after, etc. Yes i like nsfw btw i love ur blog💕

a/n: yeah sure thing! I’m glad you love my blog! warnings: 18+ readers only content: wet dreams, masturbation, fantasising (NSFW) under the cut!

Shikamaru Nara

-One word: troublesome.

-He had been having these thoughts about you every now again since he realised he was attracted to you. But honestly he didn’t plan on pursuing you or even telling you. It was too complicated right now.

-But he was a little masochistic about it. He would push aside the thoughts and avoided touching himself - mainly because he knew he would think of you and he didn’t need the guilt that came afterward. It’s no wonder he has the dream.

-It happens the night before his day off. He has a particularly deep sleep and for him that’s the only time he really dreams. And this time he just had to dream about you coming on to him, kissing him and going down on him. Kami, he could feel your lips around his cock. So warm so good.

-Shikamaru is grinding himself against his mattress.

-Then he is on top of you whispering something about how the two of you shouldn’t do this. But you tell him you want it that you want him. But now the two of you are in the shower and he is kissing you.

-His arm slid under his pillow, cheek pressing against it as he rolled his hips against the mattress again.

-He has you pressed against the wall, holding your thigh as he thrust into you. ‘I like...your hair down.’ You said as you grab hold of it. And wow now he was really turned on. Suddenly he wanted to never wear his hair up again. ‘Shikamaru...’ His name leaving your lips. It’s sweeter than honey.

-There was a loud buzzing noise and Shikamru’s eyes open to find his alarm blaring. He had forgotten to turn it off. With a sigh he hits the button and rolled onto his back. That was when he realised that that problem, the very hard problem leaking in his pants.

-Now he had two options: rubbing one out or a cold shower. He couldn’t 100% get on board with either option but one was far more tempting than the other. He had embraced too many cold showers this week alone trying to stifle his thoughts. And it had been ages since he had jerked off. It probably wasn’t going away that easily. Fuck it.

-Closing his eyes he reached down to palm himself through his pants. His fingertips lingered on the wetness there, the precum had been leaking before he even woke up. With a firm touch he teased himself a little, tracing around the outline of his cock. Kami, he was so sensitive from the dream.

-He could still see you on your knees in front of him, taking his erection into your mouth so willingly. Damn. He shuddered. He was close already. Wasting no time he pulled down his pants to release his erection. He hissed as it exposed it the cooler air.

-Biting his lips, Shikamaru spread the pre along his shaft and began pumping it with hard, long strokes. He tried to chase the images of the dream but they were fading quickly. Instead he found himself fantasising new scenarios. You on top of him, you under him, you you you. He came hard, barely reaching to the bedside table for a tissue in time.

-When he came down from his high the guilt kicked in but not as bad as he had thought. Instead he felt a little hopeful? Like maybe you wanted him too. Shit. It was too good to think about. He peeled himself off the bed to go and shower.

-The next time he saw you was later that day. He realised he had an errand he had forgotten to do and rush into the village after his shower. He had forgotten to tie is hair up when he ran smack bang into you. With a chuckle you apologised as made small talk.

-Shikamaru acted his usual self but on the inside he panicked a little. He couldn’t get those thoughts out of his mind. And he felt a little hot. Definitely hyper aware of you, especially since he kept looking at your lips.

- ‘I like your hair down.’ You said catching him completely off guard. His eyes widened and he completely shut down. It was exactly what you had said in that half-remembered dream this morning. He couldn’t help but blush.

- ‘Thanks.’ He said, scratching the back of his neck. Maybe one day he would tell you how he felt, minus the part about the dream of course.

Neji Hyuga

-Neji always ends up having wet dreams because he refuses to masturbate a lot lol. It’s having a crush that awakens this side of him in the first place and he thinks it’s disrespectful to think about you and he can’t not think about you. (chill out Neji lol)

-The odd time he does jerk it it has to be in the shower because it makes him feel a little bit better plus no mess to clean up. He is efficient okay. And he can also pretend it didn’t happen.

-Then one night he gets back from a long mission, showers and crashes the second he gets into bed. He started dreaming and it was a little weird. He was walking through the village with his team when they reached ichiraku. Except when they went in it was a dessert shop run by the ichiraku workers. And then his team was gone and you were sitting in front of him.

-You were talking to him one minute and stroking his hand the next. But it was normal everything felt normal. The next thing he knew he was walking into your bedroom, with you leading him by the hand. And you kissed him again and again.

-Neji rolled onto his back and thrust his hips into the air with a groan.

-Then you were on top of him, lips not breaking from his and rolling your hips. His hands were on your hips coaxing you along as he pushed up against you. He was hard and needy and you were his. Oh kami, he wanted you more than anything in the world.

-His hands snaked down and palmed his erection before he rolled onto his stomach.

-Your hands were on his chest, running up his neck, into his hair. You pulled him closer and he let you. He thrust up against you feeling the sweet friction against his erection. His hands slid up and down your back then onto your backside with a squeeze. You moaned against his lips and he smirked into the kiss. ‘So hard for me.’ You whispered and he almost came right then and there.

-Neji rolled his hips over and over against the mattress his erection leaking precum against his pants.

-Then his hands pushed under your top, feeling your skin beneath his fingertips. He was about to tell you something, something about his feelings when suddenly he awoke. With a groan he rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. Then he looked down at his rock hard erection, straining against his pants.

-The sight made him sit up a little straighter. ‘Damn it.’ This was exactly what he wanted to avoid. Getting hard over you without your consent was too much. What you would think of him... although the dream had sparked something inside of him. What if you actually wanted him???? The possibility made him shiver.

-He couldn’t continue this. He couldn’t...right? Biting his lips Neji groaned and pressed his palms against his face. Fuck it. He slung his legs over the side of his bed, pulled his pants down just enough to free his erection and started pumping. It hurt-barely lubricated but it was his punishment to keep rubbing through it.

-Biting down against his bottom lip Neji pushed down a moan. He was at breaking point already, grabbing some tissues from the bedside table. He focused lots of pressure at the head with every stroke. Then he was hunched over and cumming.

-The second he finished he disposed of the tissue and stormed over to the shower. He wanted very badly to ignore what had happened but he couldn’t. These feelings he had were getting worse and he didn’t know what to do.

-When he finished there was a knock at his door. And he was mortified to find you standing there. ‘Want to get lunch with me?’ You asked and Neji blushed so hard you thought he had a fever. He couldn’t look you in the eye the whole day. He was a flustered MESS!

#request #shikamaru #shikamaru nara #shikamaru headcanons #neji #neji hyuga #neji headcanons #headcanons #headcanon #hc #hcs #nart shippuden #smut #shikamaru/reader #shikamaruxreader #neji/reader #nejixreader #Anonymous #Ask

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writethelifeyouwant · 4 years ago

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Dive Bar Ch. 7/ ?

Pairing: Dean x Sam (eventually, he he he)

Rating: 18+

Prompt/Summary: After a one night stand with a random college chick turns into a threesome that also featured his little brother, Dean- well, frankly, he panics. What’s even worse than gay panicking? Gay incest panicking. Luckily, Sam winds up being a little more cool about the whole thing than Dean ever would have imagined.

WC: 2,276

Tags: gay panic, allusions to brother/brother incest, angst, Dean having graphic naughty thoughts

Beta: @daydream3r-xo - thank you for reading lovely 😘

A/N: To keep things realistic, as this chapter takes place one month on from the previous one, I figured I better make you guys wait that long too! JK, 🙃 I just suck spectacularly. So sorry for the unplanned hiatus, but I’m getting back into the swing of things, and promise the next chapter is already in progress and will be out next week 😊

Chapter 6

One month later

They’re out west working a vengeful spirit case and pretending, pretty effectively Dean thinks, that the events of nearly two months ago now have been forgotten. Sam doesn’t bring it up, he doesn’t bring it up, that should be the end of that. Except it’s not. Inside, Dean’s head is a mass of tangled emotions and twisted thoughts and dark crevices broadcasting a siren’s song - like the allure of hearing a snippet of “Cherry Pie” seeping out into the dusty blackness of a desert parking lot illuminated by the warm neon outlines of poles and women - except the images hidden in those crevices aren’t mostly-naked women with too much makeup and not enough self respect. Hidden in the recesses of Dean’s mind are the images of Sam’s cock thrusting into a tight throat, and an echo of the words, “hey, if you ever need help figuring it out…”

Those words have haunted Dean more thoroughly than any ghost they’ve hunted, than any spectre they’ve burned. And Dean couldn’t manage to burn those words out of his memory.

A knock on his shoulder draws Dean out of himself and back to the present, where the object of his fantasies sits blissfully unaware on the sticky black leather next to him. The desert is hot.

“Are you listening to me man? Thought you said we were gonna pull over for the night, find some A/C?”

“Yeah, of -” Dean cleared his throat, dropping from the embarrassingly high octave his voice had come out in. “Of course, just uh, point me to the next exit I guess. There’s gotta be something coming up.”

“Yeah, it looks like there’s a little resort town coming up just a coupl’a miles from here. If it’s a tourist spot they should at least have functioning air conditioning, maybe even a shower that isn’t broken,” Sam huffed.

“Yeah, sounds good Sammy.”

To Sam’s relief they had a cool room and a clean shower about half an hour later, and he relished in the chance to stretch his legs and rinse off the dust that clung to him from driving with the windows down most of their way there. Towelling off his hair with a rough shake he lobbed the towel onto the bed and grabbed for a fresh t-shirt.

“I’m going to grab some grub. You want to come or you gonna stay and read that nerd book you picked up in the last town?”

“You mean Mythology of the Spirit in the American West?” Sam corrected Dean exasperatedly.

“Yeah, like I said, nerd book. You coming with or not?”

Sam huffed and considered his options. He was looking forward to sitting down with that book, but he’d also been cooped up in the impala for innumerable hours not too long ago, and it would feel good to walk around for a bit, even if his brother was being an ass.

“Yeah, sure. I’m coming.”

Dean picked out the first joint they walked by with bright lights and loud music. This was definitely a tourist town, because even on a weekday this place was packed, but Dean liked the noise and the buzz. It made a welcome change from the monotony of his thoughts broadcasting over a tinny radio all day.

The place didn’t have much in the way of decor beyond the theme of ‘bar’. It was crowded with mostly guys - dressed a little more loudly than Dean would have expected but, hey, they were probably on vacation, cutting a little loose - and the occasional group of girlfriends had tables dotted around as well. It looked like your typical food and drink establishment.

Sam slapped him on the arm and gestured to a free table on the other side of the room. Dean gave him a thumbs up and pointed to the bar, to indicate he’d grab the first round of drinks and hopefully find a menu while he was at it, he was starving.

The bartender gave him a friendly smile when he asked for two draughts and pointed out the menus when Dean asked. Dean grabbed the first beer that was passed over to him and hung around at the bar while he looked through the menu and waited for Sam’s drink. That turned out to be a poor tactical decision, because standing alone at a bar and being as attractive as Dean is a combination that invited attention.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

Dean looked up, startled, into the face of the tanned, polo-shirt-wearing guy that had just spoken to him. He was giving Dean what was supposed to be an open, disarming smile, but which really just looked weirdly nervous.

“Uh, hey,” Dean responded, leaving it open for the newcomer to pick up the conversation, but not really knowing what to say to him.

“Nice night, huh?”

“Um, yeah, sure-”

“Here’s your other drink, man,” the bartender cut across the exchange and dropped the second glass next to Dean’s first.

“Thanks,” Dean grabbed quickly for the second drink and tucked the menu under his arm before grabbing his own. “Uh, nice to meet ‘ya,” he nodded awkwardly to polo-guy and hurried past to get back to Sam, who was playing on his phone at the table, leaving any thought of how weird that was back at the bar with the now deflated looking tourist.

An hour later, suitably fed and two beers down, Sam suggested a game of pool.

“You know I’m always up for beating your ass, Sammy.”

Dean grinned and racked up the strangely coloured billiard balls in a bright pink frame. He’d never seen rainbow-coloured pool before but, whatever, people were weird. He gave Sam the break, and tried very hard to look anywhere but his baby brother’s ass as he bent stoically over the felt top and crashed the cue into the white ball, grinning smugly when he straightened up and rounded the table to pound a brightly striped ball into a corner pocket. Dean breathed a sigh of relief that he no longer had to avoid looking at Sam with his perv-o-vision on, but realised too late that the front-on view of Sam wasn’t any less enticing.

The way his chestnut bangs curled over his brow and caught on his insanely long eyelashes - seriously was he wearing mascara or something? Dean yanked himself from his thoughts, only to be confronted with Sam’s eyes glancing up at him from behind those lashes and curls, like he wanted to check Dean was watching him while he took his shot. He holed another ball, and the clack and thunk of ball against porcelain and then wood shuddered through Dean and settled in his bones. The cocky smirk on Sam’s face took it one step further, and sent a shock of arousal through his chest and down.

“I’m gonna go get us some refills,” Dean grunted and motioned to their mostly empty glasses. Sam shrugged and eyed his next shot, smirking to himself, under the assumption that Dean was bailing because he didn’t want to watch Sam slaughter him right out of the gate. He was partially right. At the rate he was going, Dean was going to be on the floor soon; and it had nothing to do with the pool or the alcohol, and everything to do with the thoughts Sam was stirring inside him.

Up at the bar, Dean called for two more beers, and a double shot of something strong. The amber liquid was dropped in front of him quickly while the bartender waited for the taps to clear. Dean took a healthy gulp and let the burn in his throat ground him, reminding him of what he could control in this world. And maybe he couldn’t control his thoughts about Sammy, but he could control how mind-numbingly drunk he got to forget them. Taking the second and last gulp of the liquor, he nearly choked when he felt a tap on his shoulder. And he knew it wasn’t Sam, because he was watching Sam still bent over the pool table from across the room.

“You drank that pretty damn quick,” the stranger chuckled deeply. “Good stuff?”

“Strong stuff,” Dean grunted, and flagged the bartender for another, which was quickly poured out for him.

“I know something else pretty strong that would feel good sliding down your throat.” This time Dean did choke on his liquor, prompting the stranger to thump him on the back, which Dean flinched away from violently. “Sorry hombre, didn’t mean to scare you like that,” the stranger had the decency to look slightly abashed, “it’s just… you got the best damn blowjob lips I’ve ever seen.” Dean almost swallowed wrong again.

“I, uh…” Dean cleared his throat, grasping at straws for words that made any sense, and tried again. “That’s, um, that’s very flattering of you but I’m not… uh, ‘on your team’ amigo, sorry.” In a bid to hide his awkwardness, Dean went to down the rest of his drink. It stung on the way down, where the flesh of his throat was raw from choking.

“Oh, sorry man, I thought uh- with your friend over there you two must be… well, among friends here.” He gestured vaguely around the room and Dean followed his motion, paying closer attention now than he had all night. And that’s when he noticed that a lot of the guys were sitting just a little closer than friends do, the groups of girlfriends dotted around all had pairs amongst them… His eyes darted back to Sam and the rainbow coloured billiard balls he hadn’t thought too hard about before.

Dean’s stare hardened when he noticed that Sam, who had pocketed all his balls, effectively finishing the game while Dean was at the bar (and Dean did not let his heart strings tug proudly at that), was leaning casually against the side of the table, arms resting on his pool cue in a way that made him look carelessly sexy, eyes raking over a guy slightly shorter than him with spiky hair and a tight henley. His brain echoed with the sounds of shattering glass as he turned, wide-eyed, back to the incredibly forward man who had been hitting on him.

“This is a gay bar?” Dean hoped he didn’t sound offensive, he was just confused.

“Wow,” the stranger laughed, tucking a hand into his pocket, “you really are straight aren’t you?”

He shook his head bemusedly and slapped a bill on the counter, gesturing for two of what Dean had just been downing. When they arrived, he clicked his drink against the glass he pushed in front of Dean. “Hope you forget whoever it is you’re drinking to forget about, and if you want some help with that, I don’t mind working with beginners.” The stranger left with a wink and made his way back to his group of buddies across the room, laughing off their sympathies at his strike out.

Dean was left at the bar, puzzled, embarrassed, but vaguely flattered. Except then he remembered Sam was talking to someone, some jag-off who didn’t know how to buy clothes that fit him properly, and a feeling he wasn’t sure how to name writhed and burned in his chest. Eyeing his little brother over the drink he’d just been bought, Dean tried to do a little introspection for once. If he didn’t have a name for what he was feeling, then it was probably something new, right? It wasn’t his protective instincts kicking in, Sam could take this guy easily; could probably split him in half, Dean thought to himself ruefully. But then that thought conjured up an image Dean wasn’t mentally prepared for.

Like he was watching it through the flickering of a candle, shadows jumping across the figures he was trying to focus on, Dean saw Sam grab the man’s hair and slam him over the pool table with his arm twisted behind his back, saw Sam pull down his too-skinny jeans and bury his face between the guy’s ass cheeks, saw Sam naked, slamming into him, splitting him in half, the muscles in his back flexing and glistening with sweat in the weird half light Dean was watching through.

In a blink, Sam and his boy-toy had disappeared. Not just from Dean’s lecherous imaginings but also from Dean’s actual view. Panicked, he searched for Sam in the crowd, breath easing when he saw him further down the bar ordering drinks, but every muscle in his body clenched when he saw Sam’s hand land on his companion’s shoulder and squeeze.

What the hell did Sam think he was doing? Picking some random guy up in a bar? That wasn’t like him at all, that was Dean’s thing. Except, when was the last time he’d gone home with someone? A few weeks? A month? With a gut-wrenching feeling, Dean realised that he hadn’t taken anyone home with him since Dani and Sam. So maybe picking people up in bars wasn’t his thing, if he hadn’t done it in so long. Maybe now it was Sam’s thing.

But then what’s my thing?

Dean scrambled in his head for a new identity, a new label. Something like ‘big brother’ that he could use to define himself, ground himself in the haze of confusion he felt himself slipping away in. Hunter? High-school dropout? Badass? Border-line alcoholic? He looked up from his empty glass and cast around his surroundings, frustrated and dazed and searching for an answer - and he locked eyes with Sam.

You’re the guy who’s hopelessly in love with his little brother.

Fuck.

***

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#dive bar #wincest #spnkinkbingo #gay panic #bi!sam #dean has gay thoughts #sexy times

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