#but it did not feel appropriate to put anyone under a cut! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

satoruxx · 11 months ago

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pairing: toji fushiguro x reader | 1.6k words summary: boyfriend!toji headcanons, fluff, soft!toji, grumpy x sunshine, he’s a simp but he’ll never admit it !! rheya's note: grumpy man being soft for the person he really loves? i’m here for it. mamaguro is literal proof that he can and will love !!

bf!toji who is silent with his care for you. he's not one to be open or dramatic about his feelings, but you bet he'll show them in actions. small, mundane things that could only be picked out under critical eyes—like quietly placing an extra mug of coffee next to you as you work, or being the one to walk closest to the street, fingers firmly clasped around your palm. if you point it out he'll just grunt, shaking his head with a quiet "keep walking" all while pretending to ignore your silly little grin.

bf!toji who isn't really the type to be big on words of affirmation, but huge on physical touch. you tell him you did well on a project at school or work and he just hums, giving you a little nod. he doesn't say anything else—doesn't really have to because the soft lingering pat on your head is enough to tell you that he's proud.

bf!toji who is an aggressive yet affectionate lover. if you're doing something and he's not receiving your attention he will come up behind you and put you in a headlock. he thinks it's an appropriate response considering how much he craves your attention and company—why on earth are you focused on something that isn't him anyway? so be prepared to have his heavy bicep playfully curling around your throat or slinging you over his shoulders at random times—it's his way of telling you he misses you. and if anything, he'll do it to hear you whine and attempt to shove him off.

bf!toji who will absolutely take your phone and change your lockscreen to pictures of him. every so often, you'll turn your phone on and see an entirely different picture—sometimes a picture of him at the gym, other times a picture of him blocking out his face—but it's always him.

bf!toji whose own lockscreen is always something that's related to you. he's sneaky with it, always stealing pictures of you when you're not looking. he's got a separate album with them—probably hidden behind a password because it's something only he should be allowed to see. but whether it's a snapshot of his hand intertwined with yours or a blurry image of you fast asleep in his bed, it's always you. because of course you’re the first thing he should be able to see when he turns his phone on.

bf!toji who, as cliché as it sounds, is exactly the type to go feral if someone's made you upset. and he's freakishly observant, noticing even a slight pinch of your nose or wobble in your lips—he's caught them all. whether you're just down or outright sobbing, he's there, standing in front of you with pure anger weighing heavy on his brows. and yet for all his rage he's nothing but gentle as he firmly takes your face in his calloused hands, muttering a strained "what the fuck happened?" as he forces you to make eye contact with him. his own eyes will dart over your features, searching for discomfort or any other emotion as you explain, barely holding back his own emotions because there's no reason on the fucking planet that you should be upset at all.

bf!toji who rarely says the words "i love you" not because he doesn't but because the words themselves don't hold all that much meaning to him. no he'd rather spend his time proving it to you than just saying it for the sake of saying it. but, sometimes if you pretend to be asleep long enough, you'll catch him quietly whisper the words into your hair, almost like he doesn't want anyone to hear it. don't even bother trying to call him out for it—he'll deny deny deny.

bf!toji whose eyes flutter when he lets you trace over his scars. not just the one cutting over his lips but the ones that litter his back and torso—battle remnants that he doesn't remember much of. he's always hated the look of them, indifferent to old memories of a much more chaotic time in his life. but when your gentle fingers graze over the raised skin he'll sigh, oddly quiet but yet so comfortable.

bf!toji who will drop everything if you need him. don't ever hesitate to ask him for things because you're scared of being a burden—he will yell at you (affectionately). you drank too much with your friends and can't get a ride? call him and he'll pick you up even if it's 4 am. you're feeling nervous about walking home from the convenience store even though it's only ten minutes away from home? stay put and he'll come get you so that you can walk back together. shut up about all that "it's an inconvenience for you" bullshit—he'll do it and that's that.

bf!toji who asks if you've eaten today, and when you answer with a sheepish smile he'll click his tongue, crossing his bulky arms over his chest and giving you a pointed glare. then he'll say "get your ass to the kitchen. c'mon, up." while hoisting you to your feet—most of the time he'll just pick you up and plop you on the counter himself.

bf!toji who wordlessly makes you something to eat, whether it's a quick snack put together with leftovers or an actual full meal. then he'll stand in front of you with the plate and demand you eat. even a slight word of protest and he's scowling, already holding up a spoonful while grumbling a low "don't wanna hear it. open up, kid."

bf!toji who hates when you fall asleep on the couch waiting for him to get home. his job doesn't allow for the comfort of a strict schedule, and he's told you this many times. but you're nothing if not stubborn, and he can only sigh heavily as he sees you dozing against the armrest when he pushes the door open late at night. he'll click his tongue quietly, hooking both arms under your back and knees to cradle you against his chest before walking to the bedroom. though some part of him is pleased, knowing that you seem to care about him enough to make sure he's coming home every night.

bf!toji who glares at anyone who even breathes in your direction the wrong way. some guy eyeing you while you're walking on the street? toji looks like he's ready to rip his head off. some "friend" of yours asking too many questions about why you're dating a man like him? well…if looks could kill.

bf!toji who pulls you into his lap when he kisses you, because he likes the way you fit into his space so perfectly. he won't ever admit how it makes him swoon when you giggle against his lips, instead choosing to tighten his grip on your hips and pull you closer to his chest.

bf!toji who enjoys watching you sit on the kitchen counter and swing your legs back and forth—finding it so unbelievably endearing that he ends up just standing in between your legs and burying his face into your neck. his lips will map chaste kisses across your skin, and he'll hide a wry smile as your quiet giggles wash over him.

bf!toji who will notice when you eye something at a store, whether it's a pretty piece of jewelry or a new sweater or whatever—he keeps note. and then weeks later, once you've forgotten all about it, he'll come home and drop a bag into your lap before shoving his hands into his pockets. when you open it and start gushing about how much you wanted it and how pleased you are, he'll huff and turn away, muttering a low "whatever, kid. 's not a big deal."

bf!toji who sees you upset about something, and loops his bicep around your neck and tucks you under his chin. to an outsider it doesn't look like the most comforting form of a hug, but it's toji, and he's secure and he's safe and he's all the comfort you need—a tight squeeze that grounds you in a way that you can't quite describe.

bf!toji who will never admit how interested he is in your gossip. his ideal way to destress after he comes home is to sit on the couch with you in his lap, your arms looped around his waist as you press yourself against his torso and tuck your head under his chin. and even though his eyes are trained on the tv, he has no clue what's going on—he's more focused on the drama you're spilling or whoever you're ranting about. and he makes it known too, occasionally asking "then what happened, baby?" and adding in a few sounds of disbelief. by the end of your rant, he'll be saying something along the lines of "what a fucking bitch," or "honestly he deserved that," and then asks for updates on the situation over the next few days.

bf!toji who silently watches you trace your fingers over the lines on his palms. you're blabbering about something, tucked against his chest as his other arm remains wrapped around you securely, but he's just focused on your hands. it scares him a little bit—the difference between you and him. his palms are calloused, rough with battle and death, while yours are soft, clean of the horrors he's determined to keep away from you. and a small part of him tells him he shouldn't taint you with all his faults, that you deserve someone more capable of loving than he is. but then he feels you brush your lips over his scarred fingers and he sucks in a breath, tightening his grip imperceptibly. even as he hides a half smile against your brow, he knows he isn't going anywhere.

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erodasfishtacos · 10 months ago

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The Body Factory (sexclubowner!h)

Hellloooo!

It’s been a long while since I posted here. I am still going strong on patreon with 4-5 one shots a month with anywhere from 8 to 14k words usually (sometimes more) + blurbs. I decided to released one of my new tropes, just part one on here and if it sounds good maybe consider joining for $3USD a month to read more parts of this and many others coming up!!!

prompt: yn doesn’t feel fufilled in her relationship and so her fiancé, Arthur, comes up with an idea to help but it doesnt turn out as either of them expected aka sex club owner!h

word count: 8k

warnings: under-negotiation, power play, mean h, choking, safeword, cheating but not really yet

🛑 there is a scene that could potentially be triggering so i am going to put a brief summary at the end of the fic if you’d like to check whether it’s a appropriate read for yourself. 🛑

Author’s Note: I have had this idea on my mind for months and have been so extremely excited to share it with you. It has really really been inspiring to me as I don’t have a trope like this. I hope you enjoy.

Arthur was nice.

Arthur was a safe choice.

It’s why when YN’s father introduced them, it didn’t really seem like an option to turn down the invitation to go out to dinner at the swankiest restaurant in town.

The date had been so incredibly unexciting that YN had no doubt that he would not ask for a second one.

They had nothing in common, the space was often filled with an awkward silence, and averted gazes to the walls or out the window next to their seating.

Arthur was nice.

Arthur was polite, he held the door and paid for the bill before walking her to her car with the chaste kiss to her cheek.

It absolutely boggled her mind when her father informed her the next day that Arthur had told her that he had an amazing time and was going to ask her for a second date in the next upcoming days.

YN hated the mere idea of disappointing her parents, she had already let them down enough with her career choice not to join the family business

:readmore:

instead becoming neonatal nurse, despite that being a massive accomplishment, it wasn’t praised because she didn’t go to be a lawyer like both her mother and father.

It felt like most of the time she was on thin ice with her parents because of her education and career choice, even down to the car she drove (they thought it was too sporty and not practical enough) which left her in a precarious position.

She relied on them for help with her student loans.

YN was still trying to get her feet on the ground with her apartment landlord just bumping up her rent by nearly five-hundred pounds, her car note, among all the other things that came with being an adult that she wasn’t financially capable of managing yet.

Her parents agreed to pay for her school loans.

However, it came with silet threat of staying in their good gracious or they would cut her off at any moment, they had threatened it enough when she got into nursing school and informed them that she would be attending, she must have heard them threaten her inheritance half a million times.

Arthur was her ticket back into her parent’s limelight.

He was fresh out of law school but he was incredibly intelligent, good at what he did, and had multiple firms vying for him to join their legal council but he had chosen YN’s family’s business because of their well-known reputation.

Arthur came from old money, which had given him an extremely privileged life and a headstart into success as soon as he was born.

He was the great-grandson of an oil tycoon whom he had reaped the benefits ever since.

The second date happened, then the third, then the fourth.

No spark.

No chemistry.

Atleast on YN’s end because Arthur seemed happy as a clam in their relationship, he praised YN to anyone who would listen, and was consistently bragging about their life to anyone that would listen to him.

He was nice to her.

He remembered important dates, brought her flowers to work, and had dinner made when she walked in the door on nights that she worked late shifts and he got home before her.

Time passes and they celebrate their first year anniversary, then their second, then their third.

On the fourth was when he got down on one knee and professed his love to her in front of all their family and friends on Christmas Day at an extravagant party at his parent’s estate.

The diamond ring that he slid onto her finger was ridiculous, too big to not just be flaunting wealth, and it wasn’t a style that she liked but she lied and told him that she loved it.

There was an emptiness in her chest when he proposed, she was teary-eyed but she couldn’t determine whether it was from happiness or dread that she was going to spend the rest of her life with the man in front of her.

It wasn’t his fault in the slightest.

Arthur was just Arthur.

He lacked depth, there was nothing behind his twinkling brown eyes beside law, money, and judgement.

Arthur treated her nicely consistently, they barely ever fought, and he never raised his voice at her.

When he got frustrated, he just got an exasperated tone and took time to himself in his office until he had calmed down enough to talk.

But that was once in a blue moon.

They’ve never had a blow-out because he was so agreeable and accommodating.

That’s exactly what was missing from their relationship.

YN didn’t crave toxicity, not one bit, she wanted a healthy relationship with positive communication, understanding, and all the things that make that up.

YN did crave excitement, humor, sexual tension, and the type of relationship that kept her on her toes, got her adrenaline pumping and making her stomach turn in nervous knots because she didn’t always know what to expect out of her partner.

Arthur was as predictable as a clock, had no spontaneity up his sleeve, and his sense of humor was nonexistent.

YN had a partner that she’d been with in college named Klein.

He wasn’t the love of her life, not by a long shot, but he had been wild, on the edge of insane half-of-the-time, and always kept their relationship exciting.

He would show up at her part-time cafe job, with a fake excuse to her boss about a death in his family, and he needed her support.

When YN would walk out to his motorcycle with him, concerned about his grandmother’s death, he would only smile at her, inform her that his grandmother has been dead for fifteen years, and that he was going to take her on a hike to see a waterfall she’d mentioned wanting to see once in passing.

But then there was their sex life, it was phenomenal and unlike the few half-hapzard experience she had before him.

He was confident, dominant, and introduced her to things that she used to not even have the nerve to say out loud let alone do.

It was him who introduced her to BDSM and they explored it for nearly two and a half years of their relationship.

YN did research while they were together and after the fact, she had even attended a few virtual training sessions to learn about correct techniques, safety precautions, and learning the dynamic of power play which engrossed her to no end.

However, when Klein requested they open their relationship, that had been such an unexpected turn-off that she no longer felt the connection that was there before.

The end of the relationship was amicable, they were still friends on social media and liked each others posts but it was at that point they realized they wanted different things and they couldn’t provide that to one another.

Where Klein wanted flexibility, uncertainty, and fluidity.

YN wanted regimen, structured, and a deep sense of connection with one person.

She did not want multiple doms nor did she want her dom to have multiple submissives.

She wanted all the attention on her, her dom would be absolutely captivated by her and be so connected to her physically, mentally, spiritually that they only want her.

Her ideal dom would never mention sharing.

Which isn’t to shame it because it was more common than not to have an open relationship, partner sharing, and swapping.

YN loved the idea of becoming comfortable with someone enough that she could be a brat which she wasn’t an easy submissive she had come to learn.

Her dominant had to work for her submission, sometimes she crumbled quickly and other times it took multiple punishments until the smirk was wiped from her face and replaced with tears on her puffy cheeks from the pinpricks of pain.

After Klein, she had gone on a few dates, some she even hooked up with but she never clicked enough with them to talk about anything like that.

And so she wrapped it up into a nice, neat box and tucked it into the back of her mind because she would find the right partner who would be compatible sexually with her.

Right?

Arthur and her had no sexual chemistry.

Arthur was just as polite in the bedroom as he was outside of it, he never put her in a unique position, and preferred to rotate between the missionary and doggy style.

He would occasionally go down on her but he didn’t know what he was doing so it didn’t feel like much of anything as most of the time he couldn’t even locate her clit.

Which meant fingering was out of the question because he didn’t even know the g-spot existed.

Anytime she managed to orgasm, it was from her own hand, getting herself off because she was past the point of asking him to try to do it.

Arthur did not have a high sex drive and YN felt guilty for being thankful for it.

He wasn’t doing anything wrong, he was trying, and it was so unsatisfying that YN felt like her skin itched sometimes because she hadn’t realized until Arthur how much she craved sexual intimacy with her significant other.

Again, Arthur initiated once a week, sometimes twice or sometimes not for a few weeks when his work is really busy.

YN was six years into a relationship of unfilled desire, disconnect, and a lack of satisfaction which she would have never seen for herself at only being twenty-nine years old.

The wedding was set for fourteen months away, at a vineyard on the coast of Italy.

It was decided by everyone but her as with most things she felt like nowadays.

YN had been scrolling through a blog post when something caught her eye.

It was written by a female who had a similar lack of connection with her partner in the bedroom but wanted more.

The writer had described that as soon as she asked if they could experiment with BDSM that their relationship had completely shifted, they were more in love than ever, and their sex life was more amazing than it had been in nearly a decade.

It was the motivation that YN needed to have the conversation with Arthur, with the hope that it would ignite a flame that had yet to be struck between the two of them.

YN loved Arthur, she wanted to be in love with him but she couldn’t honestly say she was at this point in their relationship.

Arthur had been surprised by the conversation, over dinner one night, if the way he sputtered red wine onto his crisp white button-up was an indicator.

His eyes had gone wide in a look of almost horror and he cleared his throat a handful of times while they discussed it in more detail.

“I just feel like it would be something fun to try out,” YN tries to keep it casual, to not let on to how much she desired this or knew that she would already love it.

“Erm, yeah. I would be open to it,” Arthur had agreed sheepishly, putting down his fork and knife.

“No, I do not want you to feel pressured at all! I just -” YN begins to try to soothe because she had not meant to get such a reaction of concern more than lust out of her fiance.

He chuckles kindly, smiling at her as he reaches across the table to hold her hand, “We can try it, if that’s what you want. I am open to whatever will make you happy, sweetie pie.”

Sweetie pie….

YN tried not to blatantly cringe every time he called her that.

It did not work out.

They did not even get a few minutes into foreplay when Arthur backed out, saying that he just didn’t feel like he knew what to do, and that he’d prefer if they just did their normal thing.

YN agreed, trying to swallow the disappointed lump in her throat because she didn’t want to guilt him in to trying anything he wasn’t into.

They didn’t discuss it again after that for a long while.

Arthur wasn’t blind to the shift after that night.

He now knew that he was not satisfying a need that YN desired and she had just seemed more subdued since he had called it off but was trying to hide it because he knew that she wasn’t trying to make him feel bad about not wanting it.

It had been on his mind though.

“A sex club?” YN’s eyes nearly buldge from her sockets, puting down her glass of water and ignoring the splashes it leaves on her hand because what had Arthur just recommended they try?

“Yes. A BDSM club or a kink club they call it. Maybe if I see other people doing it or we get into the right atmosphere, it will work better. At least off the start?” Arthur seems just as nervous as her, he hadn’t touched his food.

“And…I just…” YN was at a loss for words because this is just the most unexpected turn of events.

“Maybe I can learn from others. Really get good at it for you, you know?” He suggests, his eyes looking anywhere but at hers.

“Yeah, yeah let’s do it.”

The Body Factory was the club that Arthur had decided after doing his research.

He needed somewhere secretive, exclusive, and with iron-clad NDA’s so that no one could use this against him in his profession which was fair enough.

That’s where The Body Factor came into play.

There were guidelines to a membership:

You must make over a hundred-and-fifty thousand pounds a year.

You were sign and resign an NDA every three months.

A deposit of ten thousand pounds, it will not be refunded if any rules or regulations are broken.

You will send in health screenings every two months, proof of birth control (if female), and a background check.

You may not belong to any other clubs during the time of your membership at The Body Factory.

YN was quite shocked that Arthur had dished out that amount of money on the deposit for something that they weren’t sure that they were going to like nor want to continue to visit even though the membership spans for a year at a time.

“If we go, hate it, and decide to never go back, just consider it a really expensive date night,” Arthur had assured her with a chuckle, she knew of his wealth but even this seemed a bit like frivolous spending but little did she know it was just his desperation to make her happy.

The club was in the packing district of all places, tucked back in between massive factories, some that were still open and operating, others that had been abandoned for years now.

It was actually in an old clothing factory that had been renovated to resemble any other high-end club, from the inside there would be no way that anyone could even tell except for the incredibly high ceilings at some points.

However, the location in the city and of building choice gave a lot of privacy of entering and exiting, it wasn’t advertised nor did it have any sign indicating of their presence.

It was a maze of alleyways until the entrance appeared, a dingy door that was rusted and gave no indication of what was inside, someone walking past would have never looked twice or thought anything of the building nor the entrance.

Everything was matte black, dark, and dimmed.

There were occasional deep emerald green accents but everything was sleek, modern, and simple but in the most elegant way as they walked in.

YN’s heart was in her throat.

Where people going to be fucking right when they walk in?

Or people being led around on leashes right off the bat?

Arthur may pass out.

However, there’s a front desk, almost like at an office with a woman dressed in a incredibly fitted sleek black dress with smooth, curled hair, and makeup like it was done by a professional, she had to be a model because she was gorgeous as she smiled widely and checked them in.

They had to show their licenses, hand over physical copies of their screenings, NDA’s even though they had to sign them virtually too.

There were two security guards in black suits with earpieces standing by large, heavy dark oak doors with their hands crossed in front of them.

This seemed like a movie or just not real with how sophisticated this whole process was.

“Enjoy,” Penelope, the receptionist had chirped with the whitest, most perfect smile she’d ever seen.

Arthur seemed a bit awestruck for a moment and YN couldn’t even fault him for it.

The two guards move aside to open the doors, nodding for them to go in before closing them firmly behind them.

YN finds herself reaching for Arthur’s hand, nervous and shaky with new experience anxiety and adrenaline that she was finally getting back into what she wanted even more so.

There were people mingling, sipping on drinks, and all fully clothed.

It wasn’t until Arthur informed her, “Play starts at ten, the first hour is to introduce, mingle, meet.”

Ah, that makes sense.

It almost builds the tension, YN feels like she can taste it on the tip of her tongue.

They walk over to the bar, another beautiful women greets them right away, laying a napkin down in front of both of them, “Newbies?”

“Yes,” Arthur nods, pointing to himself first, “I’m Arthur, this is YN, my fiance.”

The bartender quirks an eyebrow as she not-so-subtly scans them, “Nice to meet you two. I’m Raven. I bartend Friday through Sunday here. What are you drinking?”

“A moscow mule,” YN asks, maybe some alcohol will loosen her nerves.

“It’s a dry club, babe,” Raven smiles patiently as her long fingernails click against the smooth surface.

“Oh,” YN replies in surprise, looking behind her at the shelves only to see syrups for flavoring but no actual liquor bottles or draft taps to be seen, “A sprite?”

“Water, please,” Arthur adds as he rubs YN’s thigh, squeezing it in reassurance, “I forgot to tell you. No alcohol here. Everybody needs to be sober when playing.”

“That makes sense,” YN hums in agreement, never having actually thought about it much, but it could definitely get cloudy on consent when alcohol was being consumed in regards to playing which was a dangerous and unsafe mixture.

They sit, observed for a few minutes before a few people begin to flock towards them, greeting them and asking surface level questions until there’s a deep, almost eerie chime that echoes for a long moment through the club over the soft jazz.

It was signifying that the clock had struck ten.

Everyone quickly wraps up their conversations before moving to different areas of the rooms, some disappearing down hallways.

The atmosphere had changed significantly in a very quick spurt of time as people started undressing, kissing, moving as if they’d just gotten permission.

There was a couple of the couch across the room that Athur and YN were observing from their barstools.

The two started out slow, sensual, like any normal couple behind close doors but when the woman knots her hair into her partner’s hair and demands his mouth move lower, he obliges and Arthur gasps softly at the roughness displayed.

YN’s been aroused for the last five minutes of watching them but doesn’t make an effort to act on it, not yet atleast, and once the couple move so that the man is laying on the couch, the woman kneeling over his face, it changes her vantage point but it catches on something else.

In the corner, further back into the room, there was a man sitting in the corner where there was barely any lighting, dim and his goal was to obviously stay in the background.

No one was approaching him nor was he interacting with anyone else.

YN knew there was a no phone policy but this man was sat, scrolling boredly through his phone and only occasionally glancing up to observe the people in action around him before eyes dart back down like it wasn’t entertaining at all.

He wasn’t aroused, at least from what YN could see, and he was in a tight, well-fitted suit but his dress shirt was barely buttoned, open enough to show the definition of his pectoral muscles, the sharpness of his collarbones, and a variety of darkly inked tattoos.

He was fucking beautiful.

YN realizes she oogling him but can get away with it because it appears to Arthur that she’s still watching the couple like he is.

However, when the man looks up after a few moments once again, his eyes are instantly locked on YN.

She can’t tell what color they are from here but she knows they’re light, twinkling under the barely there light of a sconce on the wall and it’s smouldering as he doesn’t blink nor waver with embarrassment of being caught staring at her.

YN quickly diverted her eyes back to the couple, her heart was pounding, and a sense of thrill shot up her spine even though it was inappropriate.

She wasn’t here for new partners.

She was here to learn and explore with her own.

YN tries to play it casual when Raven refills the drink she nervously chugged, “Why does that guy have his phone?”

Raven’s eyes darted to the man before grinning, “That’s Harry. He’s the owner, my boss. He supervises the free play.”

“Free play?”

“Out in the common area, it’s considered free play. If you claim a room, you are in private play with whatever partners you bring back there. Harry just makes sure everything stays safe and consensual out here. He gets bored though and plays Candy Crush on his phone.”

YN cracks her own smile at that, trying to imagine the man trying to get rid of sugary sweets and getting frustrated when he loses a round.

“Does he not play?” Arthur asks curiously, now his attention has changed to Harry as well.

“Not often,” Raven informs them, leaning her elbow on the counter, “I can’t remember the last time he did. I’d say at least seven years ago, at least in the free play but he doesn’t reserve rooms or anything. He made it clear that he doesn’t find at least any of the current members interesting enough to engage with.”

“That’s interesting, considering he must have an interest in it, if this is his club,” Arthur replies to Raven before turning back to the scene of the couple, another member had joined the couple and was currently giving the male some startling rough looking bruised kisses and bites to his stomach and thighs.

Arthur was getting aroused by the look and feel of it, he reached over and brazenly took her hand, and led her to his groin where he was hard in his trousers, encouraging her to palm over him which she did as she tried to get into it.

This…This atmosphere, these people, they excited her.

Arthur still did not.

They manage to get to a couch, Arthur appears to be getting so turned on that foreplay isn’t in his realm of ideas because he’s hiking up YN’s dress around her hips and positioning her on top of him which is a new position (in all six years they’ve never done cowgirl) but still, her arousal is barely boiling above surface level.

YN licks her palm, reaching down to help moisten herself because Arthur was not doing anything to spark her to get wet.

It was actually making her more distressed that despite the scenario, she still didn’t feel the connection to her fiancé.

When she slides down, it’s fine, he was an average size so even without much lubrication, it didn’t feel like a stretch or burn when she started to move her hips but it wasn’t as pleasant as if she was sopping, dripping down her thighs.

Arthur glances to the side at one point, noticing that the male from the throuple was now pounding into the original partner with his had tight around her throat, pushing her further into the couch without mercy as she tried to whine through stutter breaths.

YN felt like she was being watched the entire time, which of course she was being watched by other members but it felt different, when she blinks around and notices that Harry has his gaze honed in on her with a twisted scowl of almost disapproval, it confuses her.

However, she’s brought back into the moment when Arthur pants out, “Can- I want to try that.”

When YN follows his gaze, he’s referring to the choking, and yeah, maybe that will light that match.

“Okay, yeah,” YN agrees as she brushes her hair off of her shoulders, wishing he would have taken this dress off of her instead of shoving it upwards where it felt confining.

Arthur smiles at her, leaning up to give her a chaste kiss which didn’t match their situation whatsoever that they were in at the moment.

YN was feeling anxious about the judgment other members might put onto them but not because she cared that people watched but because she knew Arthur and her were nowhere nearly as fluid, practiced, or elegant as the other members whom seemed to just melt into one another easily.

Arthur had never tried it before but his hand came up to her throat, he’s getting close to his own release which means that he’s not as focused, eyes getting a glazed over appearance.

YN soon realizes that he has no idea what he’s doing as he begins to cut off her airway by cupping her throat in the center instead of at the sides.

It hurts, she can’t breathe but not the way that feels tingly, excited, it feels like he could quite possibly suffocate her because of his carelessness.

They had talked about proper methods and he clearly hadn’t retained that information.

A few black dots begin to dance across her line of vision and her body starts to trigger a flight or fight response which she wants to use her safe word but she can’t speak.

YN takes to dig her nails into his hand but he doesn’t seem to understand that it’s not out of lust.

A true fear begins to take hold that something horrible will happen to her in less than a minute.

He’s truly going to injure her.

YN is in a full-fledged panic induced state.

Then suddenly, without warning, a strong arm is being wrapped around her middle and a big, ring-clad hand grips Arthur where it was around her neck so hard he yelps in pain and releases his grip.

The person is physically lifting YN off of Arthur’s lap, trying to steady her on her feet but they feel like jello and she feels light-headed, the room wouldn’t stop spinning.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” The person’s voice is deep, raspy, and incredibly pissed off, “What the fuck is your problem?”

YN can’t even bring herself to look at Arthur right now, her full support into Harry’s side as she notices the two securities guards walking in.

“C’mon, let me sit you down. You’re okay but I want to check you out, alright? Yeah, c’mon, pet,” He encourages in a much softer tone, gentle and trying to comfort me as she struggles to catch her breath.

It takes a long second to realize that she’s crying, tears streaming down her cheeks, and fuck, she is so embarassed as every other member had stopped playing.

“We’re done for the night. We’ll re-open tomorrow at the normal hours of operation,” Harry announces to the room at large before looking to Raven, “Go close down the private rooms.”

Raven nods, no longer as smiley and bubbling but an expression of concern as she watches what’s going on with YN.

“Hey, darling. Can you tilt your head up?” Harry asks quietly once he sits her down in the same corner that he had been in, away from the group.

YN whines because her neck is aching, she doesn’t want to do anything as the drop in adrenaline has made her more exhausted than she’s felt in a long time.

“I know, I know,” Harry simpers in an unpredictably cooing tone, he taps his thumb on her chin to signal her to tilt it up and she obliges.

Harry prods gently at her neck, focusing on the center where the pressure has been, “Any sharp pains? Anything feel off or wrong like you need to go to the hospital?”

YN shakes her head, a fresh round of tears.

She knew that she wasn’t injured or seriously hurt.

YN felt more traumatized mentally than anything else.

“I need words, want to hear your pretty voice,” Harry orders in a honey sweet tone, eyes hyper-focused on her like they were in the beginning of the night.

His eyes were green.

Close to the accent color of the club.

“I’m okay,” YN manages to speak out, throat dry and scratchy.

Raven appears with a glass of water to hand to Harry before giving them their space again.

YN is about to reach for the glass but Harry is already moving it towards her lips for her, “Drink f’me.”

It’s strangely intimate as he tilts the glass, eyes watching her carefully and a sense of guilt sets in that she likes that Harry is tending to her, giving her his full attention.

“Is this a common occurrence? Between you two?”Harry doesn’t sound as kind anymore, his jaw muscle twitches slightly.

“Um, no. We came here to explore. I’m very much into this world and he isn’t. He’s told me he’s done his research in his free time but -“

“You’re telling me that you’ve never negotiated nor tried something like this and he full fledge tries choking?” Harry interrupts, outraged from where he stands up from squatting in front of her, “Did you ask or plan for that?”

YN shakes her head, a bit embarrassed that she was coming off as an amateur to someone…she felt an attraction to, felt intimidated by, and Arthur had ruined their experience here.

“No. We tried spanking a few times but he backed out. We were just supposed to come here to watch others so he could visual what all this looked like before putting it into action-“

Harry doesn’t let her finish as he storms away from her, his glare set right on Arthur who was sheepishly sitting back at the bar and nursing a drink as Raven talked to him.

YN’s heart rate starts to rise again when Arthur tenses, clearly being chewed out by Harry before her fiancé gets off his barstool and follows the club owners lead down the hallway.

YN rushes to the bar, Raven is already pouring her another sprite, “Calm down. He’s not going to hurt him or anything. They just need to have a discussion on whether or not Harry will revoke his membership.”

It feels ruined and it never even started.

All she can think about is that despite for a short amount of time she was getting what she asked from Arthur, there was still no god damn spark.

After a good half hour, the bar phone rings and Raven answers, murmuring a few words back into the receiver before having up.

“I’m going to take you back to his office now.”

Harry’s office was just as luxe, elegant as the rest of the club.

It was tense as soon as she stepped in the room and Raven left, closing the door behind her.

“I’ve decided not to revoke your joint membership after discussion with Arthur. However, there are contingencies if you would like to continue coming here. Are you willing to hear them? Arthur has already agreed to the terms.”

YN nods slowly, voice soft, “Yes.”

Harry keeps his face on her as he speaks, “I do not tolerate what happened here tonight in my club. Arthur has clearly proven that he isn’t educated enough to be able to have free access to the club and free play.”

“If you want to continue membership, Arthur will need to reserve a private room and lessons will be held until he fully grasps the concepts, displays understanding, and can play safely without supervision.”

“Who…Do you have instructors?” YN doesn’t think she wants another man involved in their sex life even in an educational aspect.

“Yes but I will be teaching the lessons,” Harry informs her, calm as ever, “I bring this up because I would need to be hands on, to demonstrate and display certain practice, power play dynamics but that is a lot to ask as I do not know your limits on sharing.”

YN’s speaking before she even realizes it, “Yes. We can do that.”

Harry’s lip quirks slightly before it disappears but it oddly enough seems like a reward.

“We can schedule. I will send the paperwork. I already have your questionnaires about hard limits, likes, dislikes, and willing to try. I want to make this clear, this will be purely educational and there will be no dynamic developing between me and you two.”

YN nods dumbly, at a loss for words because the mere thought of Harry domming her was a lick of a flame that she’d been missing so much.

“I will dom you with instructions interwoven for Arthur. We will try to keep everything minimal as I cannot stress enough that this is not anything but informative on my end to help improve your sex life as a couple.”

Three longs weeks pass before their first ‘lesson’.

Arthur voiced excitement about the instruction, never brought up the choking incident again, and never initiated any type of sex during this time either.

Everything was swept under the rug as usual in their relationship.

YN would never admit the fact that she had gotten herself off to the mere idea of Harry domming her because something about him had triggered something carnal, something near feral in her.

It’s more than she had even felt with Klein.

She knew it wouldn’t last forever but she was going to enjoy this to the best of her abilities.

YN only had excited nerves going into the night.

Harry had inquired more in the break of time about YN’s experience and was extremely pleased to realize that she wasn’t as much of a novice as he assumed.

Though she hadn’t experienced many partners or relationships within the community, her knowledge was expansive and deep enough to impress him.

Harry had texted her back with a simple message that had her core tingling enough that she had to rub her thighs together.

YN: Thank you for continuously checking in on my comfort and experience regarding these situations. I have many more concerns for Arthur as we’ve already discussed. If you have any more questions, feel free to ask!

Harry Styles: I do not plan to go easy on you. Unless you specifically want soft play for these experiences. I can be a softer dominant but my main modality is firm, mean, regimented with softer aftercare.

YN: You don’t scare me. ;)

She was already being bratty with him.

It sent a wave of good nerves through her as she waited for a reply to be sent to her inbox.

Harry Styles: It’s interesting that you’ve already started to decide to be bad for me when you don’t even know what I’m capable of, darling.

YN : I’m shaking.

YN: Terrified.

Harry Styles: I wish I could wrap my fingers around your throat right now. Show your fiancé the proper way to choke a god damn brat.

YN could feel herself pooling with arousal.

It felt a bit wrong but she reasoned enough with herself that it was all for the greater good of her relationship with Arthur but deep down she knew that was bullshit.

YN: You’re probably not much better.

Harry Styles: Quite honestly, haven’t worked with such a fucking disobedient bitch in a long time. I cannot wait to break you. A kitten who thinks they’re a big bad tiger.

YN: Fuck you.

Harry Styles: Kitty’s got claws.

Harry Styles: For now…

It felt bordering on inappropriate but YN reasoned again that Harry had made it clear that there isn’t anything happening, it is a strictly professional as a type of situation like this can be.

Saturday has come and YN wakes up to a text.

Harry Styles: Better wear something cute enough that I find you interesting enough to play with. Even if it’s just to teach.

YN rereads the message quite a few times and why is he so good at getting under her skin and she doesn’t even know him yet but it’s like he knows exactly how to wind her up.

YN: Black dress with tights.

Harry Styles: It’s good to know that you’re just another basic bitch.

YN: What will you be wearing then?

Harry Styles: That’s none of your fucking business. I call the shots, kitty. Not you.

YN: 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

Harry Styles: Good to know. Five spanks for the five emojis. Would you like to keep going?

She can’t even help herself

YN: 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

Harry Styles: Noted.

YN wants to reply, knowing he’s probably waiting but a tiny sliver of guilt starts to creep in when she thinks about Arthur because though she’s trying to convince herself this is perfectly fine.

It’s not.

Not with the emotions it makes her feel.

She hasn’t felt them in so long.

It scares her.

“Sweetie pie, are you having second thoughts? Should be getting ready,” Arthur steps out of the walk-in closet, adjusting the sleeve of his button up.

“No!” YN replies much too quickly, her tone high pitch, “Um, I lost track of time. I’ll get ready now.”

“Okay, I’m excited for this new experience with you,” He smiles sweetly, stepping over to press a kiss to her forehead.

It’s affectionate, loving, and she’s still thinking of other things than her fiancé.

YN decides on a black wide leg trouser with a corseted bodysuit that gave her tits the perfect push-up, she’s spray a very thin most of body glitter on her chest, she knew it would sparkle in the dim lighting.

She considered wearing the dress and tights to spite him but whatever, she’d be less easy access for him.

Arthur held her hand tightly as they entered The Body Factory.

YN was already searching for Harry, barely waving to Raven as Arthur leads them over but she doesn’t want a drink, she wants to play.

However her fiancé guide her to a stool, ordering for both of them as Raven has a look of curiosity as she slides them in front of him.

“Does he come out and get us?” Arthur asks Raven, looking around he doesn’t see him either.

Raven bites her lip, shaking her head with a chuckle, “No, I take you to your reserved room when ten hits.”

“What is it?” YN asks, unable to read what is going on the bartender's mind.

This conversation didn’t seem particularly funny.

“Nothing really. Harry just hasn’t offered private lessons for at least eight or nine years. Normally when couples have an incident like you did, Harry revoked their memberships without a second thought,” Raven informs them as she picks at a spot on the smooth surface of the bar absentmindedly.

“Why us?” YN wonders out loud, why after all that time did he make an exception.

“I wish I knew,” The bartender shrugs neutrally.

The deep chime rings out about forty-five minutes later.

YN cannot decipher whether she wants to throw up or jump up and down with excitement.

Especially when Raven guides them down a long hallway, then into another corridor until they reach a door with a sign that warns, “No members past this point. Private access only.”

“Um-“ Arthur goes to point out the sign, he was a rule follower to his core.

“It’s Harry’s private playroom that members can’t use but again, this is special circumstances,” Raven’s voice is hushed as she leads them into a surprisingly minimal room.

There were cabinets built sleekly into the walls where all toys and accessories must be held, a matte black.

Everything matched but there was a bigger prominence of the green accents that were more subtle in the main areas.

The play bench hardware matches everything else but the cushion is a luxe emerald.

The bed was…unlike anything she had ever seen.

It was massive but fit well in the spacious room.

High posts on all four corners with subtle hooks to place restraints in.

The mattress looked fluffy and giving, it looked as if the sheets were a black silk but the duvet was a very muted pattern of black and green diamonds.

YN was in love with space.

It was so much more than she was expecting.

“Holy shit,” Arthur gapes at the elegance, clearly he had been expecting something different too.

“Okay, when Harry comes in, he will already be in the dom headspace and so he wants me to give you reminders. Harry will respect your hard limits as he’s reviewed them before the session. You have received a list of his so please do the same.”

“Just as you can safeword out at any time without consequences, Harry can as well. He will use the same ‘red’ if need be and will check your colors throughout to ensure safe play.”

“For this first lesson, Arthur you will sit and observe. Harry will display a safe, typical scene of play to understand what that looks like with whatever kind of submissive YN is. You may also use your safeword at any time to stop the play.”

YN swallows because would he allow that?

Surprisingly, Arthur’s face is still clear and happy as he starts to walk over to an overstuffed chair in the corner of the room and smiles at YN, “Can’t wait.”

YN raises a shocked eyebrow at his willingness but nods at Raven to show she understands.

They’re silent as they wait for Harry.

She wasn’t given instruction and because she was a bit nervous, she perched herself on Arthur’s lap as he rubbed her thigh and kissed her shoulder blades occasionally.

Then there’s a shuffle outside the door, the door knob twisting and the door opening.

Harry looked ethereal.

He wasn’t wearing a tailored suit like before but leather boots with a bit of a heel, form-fitting jeans that make his lean quads look biteable, and a plain black shirt.

His arms had even more beautiful ink than YN realized.

After Harry closes the door, his eyes lock on hers, not even acknowledging her fiancé’s presence.

“Stand up,” Harry orders loudly, a bit startling.

YN obeys instantly, her heart was pounding in her eardrums like waves of the choppy ocean.

A cruel smirk tilts on his lips when he scans her up and down.

“Did I strike a nerve, pet? This isn’t a black dress and tights. Are you already starting off so insecure? And you think you can handle me. What a cute, pathetic little kitten,” His voice is venomous, steady, and she’s clinging onto every word.

Arthur’s clearly confused but stays silent.

“I’m not pathetic,” YN argues shakily, it felt dangerous to get bratty so soon but it was her submissive profile and character, it came naturally.

Harry quirks a brow, “Sir.”

YN gives him her own confused look.

“I’m not pathetic, sir. Every time you speak, try again.”

“I’m not pathetic,” YN bleats easily, a flutter of her eyelashes.

Harry smiles like a goddamn wolf.

“Oh, you’re not? Let’s test that theory,” Harry draws as he takes a few steps backwards, towards the door, “Come to me.”

YN stands up, on wobbly legs, and begins to but is stopped in her tracks by his hard voice.

“Hands and knees. Crawl for me, I want to show your fiancé how pathetic you are for me,” Harry has a humor, an evil sense of it.

YN drops to her hands and knees, nearly panting already, and begins to move.

summary of triggering scene: YN’s fiance chokes her and though it’s completely consensual he doesn’t know what he’s doing and almost hurts her. YN cannot safeword out at the time but harry stops the scene.

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hugsandharrystyles · 1 year ago

Text

Are you wet right now? Pt. 2

Well... Here we are again.

Warnings: This is just really filthy and kinky, and a bit vulgar, so if you're not into like really dirty stuff, I suggest not reading. (I try not to give away the plot with the warnings, so this is my warning.)

Word Count: 6,000+

Tension. Burning tension.

It's been two whole days since you and Harry confronted each other's feelings, and the heat between you two is enough to kill. Your parents have left you both alone to do whatever you want while they do whatever they want, so you've been stuck with Harry glued to your hip for the last forty-eight hours.

He likes to think he's sly about it too.

The way he doesn't even bother 'sneaking' touches but full on putting his hands on you when it's not appropriate. You wish you could complain, but you physically can't.

He guards you like your precious cargo and won't let anyone so much as glimpse at you.

Through all of this, he still hasn't broke into the tension first, and neither have you.

"Where are you going?" You hear Harry's voice from behind you.

"It's an hour before the sunset, so I figured I'd go down to the private beach," You explain, ignoring his burning eyes on your body.

"Um, can I come too?" He asks, just in his swimming trunks. He comes behind you to lightly tread his fingers against the fabric of your bathing suit.

"Not like I have a choice, huh? You'll come anyway," You laugh and bat his hand away.

"Well, I thought it'd be polite to ask," He jokes and grabs your beach bag for you.

"That's a first," You comment and go to take your bag from him, but he moves it out of your reach.

"I got it, babe," He says and presses a wet kiss to your cheek. You sigh, frustrated, as he walks towards the door.

"Wow, there's like no one out here," You say in awe as you and Harry find your spots in the sand. You both smooth it out to lay your big towel down.

"It is a private beach, genius," He remarks, and you glare at him.

"Thanks, dipshit, but it's a private beach for us and other narcissistic people who can't go to the normal beach," You explain and lay down on your stomach on the towel to watch the sunset slowly start to meet the horizon where the ocean lays. You feel Harry lay his head in the middle of your back. "Hey! Get your big head off of me," You complain and roll over on your back. Harry now rests his chin on your stomach, right where your bikini bottoms start. His hands rub all over your thighs.

"I can show you real big head," He says, a mischievous grin on his face as he bites the fabric of your bikini. Heat is spread between your thighs, and you pray that he doesn't feel it.

"That has to be the worst thing you've ever said," You laugh and shove at his head, making the bikini bottoms snap against your skin as they're released from his mouth.

You moan.

God, you moan.

You can feel your face heat, and Harry's staring at you with wide eyes.

"Did you just-"

"Shut up," You cut him off.

"But-"

"Let's just watch the sunset," You plead, and he nods his head, suddenly quiet. You both move around, so you're sitting up with your arms propped behind you to watch the waves.

After a minute of silence, you look over at Harry who has his eyes closed. His cheeks are pink from sunburn and what looks like bashful blush. His abs are shining with light sweat, and you want nothing more than to lick him clean.

That's when, when you look a little further down, you see what he's concentrating so hard on in his mind- why his eyes are shut so tight.

He's hard.

He's large and plump in his trunks, and you can tell. You almost want to say something, but you don't want to embarrass him. You both feel the tension, the wanting.

To hell with it.

His legs are spread enough for you to quietly get between them, so you do. Your hands come in contact with thighs first, and his eyes are bulging out of his head. You're slipping your hands under the fabric to feel at his soft thighs.

"Oh, God. What are you-" He's breathless and out of words. It's easy to see what you do to him.

"I'm done with the games, Harry. I might've given in first, but I'm winning, so I'm going to do whatever I want to you right here on this beach, m'kay?" You ask, though you don't really care for a response. You're already leaning you're body weight on him to press him down onto the towel, so you can start your descent at his pretty face. His eyes are wide and begging.

"Yes- yeah- do what you want," He pleads, his hands fidgeting in the air.

"I will, sweet boy." You straddle him and take his hands in yours, playing with his much larger ones. You clasp your hands together and smile. "You'll be good for me, won't you? Let me hear all your pretty sounds. Know you're loud because you never stop whining, huh?" You ask, leaning down over him to talk against his lips, pinning his hands lightly above his head with your hands still together.

"I'll give you everything," He promises and puckers his lips to quickly press a kiss against your lips. You lean away before he could do it again, causing him to pout. You release his hands and run yours all over him. You press and feel against his abs before running your fingers up his warm body and tangling your fingers in his hair.

"Beautiful, beautiful," You whisper and kiss all over his face. He sighs before letting out a small, angelic laugh. You lightly flick your tongue over his lips, almost as if caressing him. His head is thrown back, and he seems to be succumbed to a state of euphoria.

"Kiss me," He whispers, opening his mouth to flick your tongue with his. For once, you listen to him and press your mouth onto his. It's wet and messy, but neither of you would have it any other way. His hands caress the soft skin of your body and find your hips to press you into his crotch. He bites down on your bottom lip and sucks it into his mouth. You can already feel how sore your lips are becoming, and it excites you. You pull him away from you by his hair, and he huffs in desperation. You start to kiss down his neck, finding his pulse point and sucking a harsh hickey into the skin there. His moans only spur you on. As your mouth is preoccupied with his neck, your hands slide down to his pecks, and you tweak his nipples in between your fingers. "Oh, fuck. No one's ever done that," He laughs but is broken by a moan.

"Want me to stop?" You mumble against his neck.

"No, please no," He whimpers. You smirk and kiss down towards his chest, now flicking your tongue against his nipple and biting down gently on it. His hips involuntarily buck into yours as he tries to find some relief for his groin.

"Impatient?" You giggle and press kisses down his abs, letting your tongue lick up the light layer of sweat that's secreted against his abs.

"Baby- fuck, you're dirty," He breathes. "Best I've ever had."

"You haven't even had me yet," You laugh and sit up to stare at him. Your hands press and skim all over his tummy.

"Already know. You do what you want instead of the same ol' boring shit. And, it's you, so," He blushes.

'Those girls not treating you right, hon?" You ask, faking sympathy and sinking your fingers into his love handles, something you've always wanted to do.

"They're so fuckin' vanilla. They rush into it and just want me to fuck em'," He pouts.

"Oh, you poor baby," You laugh.

"I'm serious! I'm not even hard when they want me to stick it in. What does a guy have to do to get some foreplay around here?"

"Okay, I'm leaving," You joke, but he plants his hands on your hips and squeezes.

"Let's get back to it, yeah?" He changes the subject. You nod your head with a grin and sneak your hand into his shorts. "Oh!" He gasps in shock when you wrap your hand around him and take him out of his shorts to where you can just see his length.

"Oh, you're a big boy," You say, already feeling yourself start to drool. Of course his cock is huge, and of course it's beautiful. "So pretty, wow," You sigh and weigh it in your hand, loving the heaviness.

"Stop it," He says, flustered. "Y/N, we shouldn't do this here," He whimpers, even though his body betrays him and bucks into your hand.

"No? Who's going to stop me? I don't see anyone, baby," You egg him on. "You keep lookout, okay?" You say and immediately bend down to take him into your mouth.

"Oh, fuck," Harry moans. He had totally forgot about the possibility of people seeing the two of you, but he couldn't find a bone in his body that cared enough with the way you were sucking on him. His hands found your hair and guided you down on him gently. He tried his hardest to keep his noises at bay, but he's already noisy in bed, and it's you that sucking his dick, so he's hopeless. His moans are loud and hot- needy and whiny.

"You gotta keep that pretty voice of yours down unless you want everyone to know what we're doing over here," You say, jerking him off as you catch your breath. His dick twitches in your hand. "Oh, you would like that, huh? Let everyone know who Harry Styles really belongs to," You say slyly and press a kiss to his tip.

"You have to stop talking," He whines, hips stuttering as he tries to make your hand go faster.

"No, I think you do," You correct him and with your free hand, shove two fingers into his mouth. He gags for a moment before moaning around your fingers, sucking on them like a good boy. "There you go, sweet boy," You encourage him and flex your fingers against his tongue. You jerk him off quicker and move your fingers from his mouth, instead letting your hand rest lightly around his neck as you put your mouth back on him.

"Baby," He whines, almost sounding like a cry. Your hand caresses the side of his neck lovingly, working him through the pleasure. "Fuck- suck on my balls, please," He cries. Never has he asked for that during sex, but he has a feeling you're super into the naughty side of things. You immediately obey his command, despite you being the one in charge. You suck one of his heavy balls into your mouth and fondle the other one, using your free hand to jerk him off rapidly. "Y/N- I'm gonna fucking cum," He cries, his hips stuttering. "I want to cum on your t-tits," He begs.

"Yeah?" You ask, your voice raspy. He nods his head quickly. You quickly sit up and undo your bathing suit top without hesitation. You throw it to the side before leaning down and holding his big dick between your boobs. "Fuck my titties, baby," You encourage him, and he moans before sitting up and fucking his hips up. You help him by squeezing your breasts around him and moving up and down quickly. You stick your tongue out to lick his tip whenever you can catch it.

"I'm cumming," He groans loudly and starts shaking. He's stopped moving but you're still moving your boobs up and down over him. His cum is painting your breasts, and it's safe to say you've never seen anything so hot. Harry is utterly beautiful when he cums- unlike anything you've ever seen before.

"Fuck, look at you," You giggle as he starts to come back down to Earth. His dick is still twitching, and you remove your boobs from him before leaning down and kitten-licking at his dick to clean him up. He's whimpering in overstimulation as you, as gently as you can, tuck him back into his swim trunks. You're on the verge of saying something until you're suddenly being pulled up to sit on his lap, and there's a warm tongue lapping at your breasts and chest where his cum is. "Oh, good boy. Cleaning up your mess," You praise and run your fingers through his hair as he licks you up, clearly drunk on you with his eyes closed and lazy mouth.

"Fuck, thank you, baby," He whispers before kissing the skin between your breasts. He reaches to the side to retrieve your bikini top, and he helps you put it back on. "Let me eat your pussy," He begs, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes.

You laugh before answering him. "Not here, baby. It's getting dark," You answer while leaning your head in the crook of his neck. He rubs your back soothingly and nods his head against your own.

"Are you wet right now?"

"Of course I am, but think of how much better this would be in a bed," You offer.

"You sure? Positive you're soaking your bikini bottoms right now," He says and gives your butt a light tap. You blush and shake your head, beginning to stand up.

"Let's get back to the hotel, and we can do whatever. Does that sound good?" You ask, and he nods his head quickly.

"I swear, the walk back up from the beach is always the worst," Harry complains as you walk through the hotel doors.

"It also probably doesn't help that I just sucked your cock until your legs started shaking too," You say bluntly, and Harry chokes on his own spit.

"You-"

"Y/N! Harry!" Harry's cut off by his own mother's voice. Yours and Harry's eyes are wide as you come face to face with Anne and your mom.

"We've been looking all over for the two of you!" Your mother exclaims.

"Eh, sorry, mom. We just went down to the beach to watch the sunset," You explain, leaving out the details.

"Well, I just overheard from a few tipsy teenagers that there's a party up on the roof lounge, where the pool is. Doesn't that sound fun?" Your mom asks, and you internally smash your face into a wall. Your wetness is starting to collect in your bottoms, and it's getting uncomfortable.

"Harry?" You say, not even look at him. You shove his shoulder when he doesn't say anything.

"What- Oh! Yes, yes. That sounds great," Harry smiles, and now you internally smash his face into a wall.

"What?" You ask and finally meet his eyes.

"I-"

"Great! It will be good for you two to talk to people your ages. Also, Anne and I will be using your room for girl's night until you get back, so don't come back!"

"Wait-"

"Bye!" Your mom and Anne yell in unison and head up to presumably, your room. Your glare is set on Harry.

"I'm going to kill you."

"I didn't even process what she said until after I had spoke! Sorry if I'm a little distracted!" He pouts sassily.

"You promised you'd help me, and now we have to go to a stupid pool party with stupid people and pretend to have a stupid good time!" You complain and stomp away from him, towards the elevator.

"I'm sorry!" He apologizes and grips your wrist.

"I'm horny!" You whine back, getting a disgusted look by an elderly couple who descend from the elevator. You and Harry walk in, tapping on the roof button.

The doors are barely closed when, suddenly, Harry full-on drops to his knees, pulls your bikini bottoms to the side, spreads your legs, and presses his face into your crotch.

"Oh my God!" You exclaim and try to gain your balance. His face is properly shoved into your pussy, and he's moaning as if you're the best thing he's ever tasted. His head shakes back and forth, and he shoves his tongue into your sopping hole. You watch nervously as the elevator floors continue to rise until it's finally coming to a stop. The ding sounds and Harry quickly gets up, wiping his face, and steps out of the elevator. Your mouth is ajar, and your legs are slightly shaking. He doesn't even look back, just holds his hand out to you. You shyly take his in yours, and he walks the two of you out onto the roof.

You're quite spaced out from his scene, and it makes it hard for you to comprehend anything happening around you. You're snapped out of it when Harry presses a kiss to your temple, making you blush harshly.

"Sorry," You mumble with an embarrassed laugh.

"I'm about to drop to my fucking knees and eat your sweet pussy right here in front of all these people," He whispers into your ear. You mask your gasp with a cough.

"Shut the fuck up," You whisper back.

"Harry?" You hear an annoying voice call from behind you. You and Harry both turn around to find the girl who Harry had taken to your room with looking between the two of you with a glare.

"Oh, uh- hey..." Harry says quietly. You roll your eyes and start to walk away, but you feel Harry's arm wrap around your stomach. His large hand splays against your stomach and holds you to him.

"It's Sydney," The girl says blankly, clearly annoyed. "I thought you two weren't dating."

"We aren't," You clarify because Harry hadn't made it official yet by asking the big question.

"No?" Harry asks, pulling you tighter against him. "I just shoved my face in your pussy, and we're not dating?" He whispers in your ear, and you elbow his ribcage. "Not yet, then," Harry finally answers the gawking girl.

"Well, just so you know, he called me some other girl's name while we were together. You're not as special as you think," The girl, who's name you've already forgotten, bites.

"Yeah? Who'd he say?" You ask, pushing your ass roughly against Harry's crotch.

"I don't know. Y/N or something like that," She says, harboring significant sass.

You laugh. You bust out laughing in the girl's face, and it takes Harry basically dragging you away to settle down.

"Funny is it?" He asks, irritation clear in his voice.

"Oh, it's hilarious! Poor baby was dreaming of me," You fake pout at him and pet his head.

"Let's get in the pool," He quickly changes the subject. Harry pulls you to the pool, never letting his hands leave your body. You both step into the expansive pool and are delighted by the water's temperature. "Over here," Harry tells you, and you both swim to the pool's waterfall. There's a couple people in the pool, but nothing like how crowded you thought it was going to be.

"Harry, I can't touch over here," You complain. He looks at you for a moment before reaching down and circling his hands around your thighs to lift you around his waist. You circle your legs around him and run your fingers in his hair. He presses a chaste kiss to your jaw. "You know, you still haven't asked me."

"Asked you what, baby?" He asks.

"To be yours," You clarify.

"You know your mine just as much as you know I'm yours," He expresses and goes to kiss you, but you dodge him. He grunts in response.

"I know, but I want you to ask," You laugh.

"Yeah? You want me to ask you to be mine forever? To be my girlfriend?" He asks, kissing your throat.

"Yes," You breathe shallowly.

(I recommend turning on "I want you" by The Beatles at this point)

"Please, baby. Will you be my girlfriend?" He practically begs. You nod your head, giving him your best doe eyes.

"You my boyfriend now?" You basically purr, lightly ghosting your lips over his cheek.

"Yes, yes," He whimpers. He suddenly twirls you around so your back is pressed against his front. "Hold you breath," He says in your ear, and before you could question him, you're suddenly under water, and Harry is taking you through the waterfall to the hidden side. You can't even get a word out or wipe your eyes of water before you feel fingers slipping into your bikini bottoms and pressing against your clit.

"Harry!" You whisper-yell. He doesn't say anything in return, just slides two of his fingers into you without warning. You quickly wipe your eyes and hold onto him by the back of his neck. "Harry, people are on the other side of the waterfall. A-Anyone could swim back here and s-see," You pussy clenches at the thought, and you're barely able to form a coherent sentence as his fingers pound into you.

"Didn't care about that at the beach," He bites back, suddenly kissing you roughly.

"There weren't-" Kiss. "People-" Kiss. "At the-" Kiss. "Beach," You finally get out while his lips are still nailing yours. He bites your bottom lip, and you whine.

"Turn around," He says quickly, and you do. His fingers sadly leave you, and you turn in his hold, rubbing your crotch against his. You feel movement behind you, and you're about to question him, but you're suddenly halted when you feel the thick tip of his dick push past your entrance.

"Oh!" You moan, and Harry quickly cups his hand around your mouth. His cock is so big and fat that it's taking everything in you to not scream. He's pushing in slowly to make you feel all of him. Your hand reaches back to push at his hip, but he just groans in your ear. Once it's finally all the way in, and his pelvis is pressed against your ass, he unclasps his hand from your mouth. "What are you doing?!" Is the first thing you say, though you grind your hips back against him.

"M' sorry," He whines and bites down on your shoulder. "I'm gonna cum- Oh, God," He whimpers.

"You better fucking hold it," You bite, and you feel his arms encircle around your stomach and squeeze you tight to him.

"It's s-so tight and warm. Y/N- fuck," He cries.

"Hold it," You demand and squeeze his hip. "You're the one that stuck it in," You say.

"Couldn't wait. M' sorry."

"Just fuck me, yeah? I want my boyfriend to fuck me in a pool filled with people," You beg, and he nods into your shoulder. He pulls out almost to the tip before, as harshly as he can with the water in the way, snaps his hips into you.

As he starts to consistently thrust, one of his hands reaches down and rubs your clit to give you more pleasure.

"I'm not going to last long, baby," He whines.

"Me neither, it's okay," You reassure him and twist your neck back to kiss him. He moans, and his hips continue to thrust into you. "Stretching me out so good- fuck," You cry against his lips.

"Best pussy I've ever had- Oh, God," He groans. "I need you to cum for me," He begs.

"It's okay, baby- just cum," You assure him.

"No," He whines, but you can tell he's close. His hips suddenly stop, and his hand is roughly rubbing at your pussy. The pain mixed with pleasure drags you so much closer to your own orgasm, and you can't help but squirm in his hold. Once he feels as though you're close enough, his hips start again, though his hand never stops. "Cum, sweetheart. I'm gonna cum," He whimpers. You nod your head and smash your lips against his so neither of you make a sound.

The orgasm that hits you seems to never stop, and the same for Harry. His hips are stuttering against yours, and you have to drag his fingers away from your clit to get some relief.

"Baby, breathe," You whisper in his ear, and you feel his breathing start to calm back down.

"Oh my God," He laughs.

"Harry?" You ask.

"Yeah?" He replies.

"How do we get out of here?"

#harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harrystyles #one direction #one direction smut #harry styles angst #smut #one shot #smutty

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yaksha-lover · 11 months ago

Note

i’m obsessed with the thought of vil falling for someone who’s ugly. especially if it’s a forced proximity trope. triple points if it’s enemies to lovers!

there’s just something about a guy obsessed with beauty is shown that beauty doesn’t equal to value that melts me

omg i actually was obsessed with this concept a few months ago and i wrote a very short unfinished drabble (set in medieval au) about knight!vil falling for ‘ugly’ knight!reader but i didn’t think anyone would want to read about an ‘ugly’ reader 😭😭

i definitely agree tho the concept is so perfect for vil imo. like the idea of this guy who’s so fixated and obsessed with beauty (especially one who’s potentially been told that much of his worth lies in his looks) who ends up falling for someone very unconventional completely unintentionally. like theres’s a whole internal struggle in him that he doesn’t want to fall in love with this person. they’re an enemy, and unattractive at that.

but then he just can’t help but falling in love with their character; when they give hope to him and represent a goodness that he’d lost. someone who is called ugly and unwanted everyday by the world and manages to keep their head held high even if tears are pouring down their cheeks.

i think that’s a quality he’d admire a lot; kindness even when the world has been unkind. he wants to be good like that too. in a way, you’re like a mirror of the kind of goodness he wants to see in himself. you’re made fun of and put down at every turn and yet you do not let that stop you from being nice. whenever someone mocks vil, he can’t let it go, he can’t let himself be kind because it hurts and that’s the only protection he’s found.

also the idea of consciously thinking someone is unattractive but unconsciously starting to notice their eyes and lips and desire settling in- help-

unfinished drabble under the cut 👉👈 (also its fem reader bc i think medieval gender roles and the idea of ‘ugly’ woman x hot man couple is kind of important to the theme lol - aka this is just jaime x brienne rewritten but anyway-)

Vil truly believed you were ugly when he first met you. He almost never truly meant the term, but in this case, it was appropriate. Most everyone you encountered agreed. He could tell by how you’d stayed stone-faced at his cruel taunts, apparently used to it. Your features were just a bit too extreme, too out of place, too different. He’d used your appearance against you, scratching at every insecurity you’d thought of and probably some you hadn’t. Still, you hadn’t gotten angry as he’d hoped. You didn’t seek to harm him, even when he knew he’d struck a sore spot.

He persevered, but you’d never given in, despite his hopes that you would become blinded enough by anger and pain to give him a chance to escape. He admired you, in a way. It seemed as though life had beaten you down long before he’d come along, but a hardened rock had emerged from the erosion.

Sometimes his words would cut too deep for you to ignore. You never did anything rash, to his dismay, but he could tell they affected you. He didn’t feel bad; why should he? He was your hostage, and you his captor. Even if you were performing your duty, you were getting in the way of his own responsibilities, his life.

Vil was surprised to learn that you were a high-born like himself. Well, not exactly born to a family of his status and wealth, but a high-born nonetheless. He’d realized that he should’ve been addressing you with your Lady title, but you’d fought at soon as he’d tried.

No matter my origin, you know that no man sees me as a lady, Sir Vil.

They came, and they cut off his hair. One of them taunted him for being a beautiful husk. So they’d cut a deep gash across his face. Now your outside matches your inside, ‘Sir’, they’d mocked.

Vil had wished they’d cut off his head instead.

Later, after you’d managed to convince them to let you treat his wounds, he’d bemoaned to you.

Now we’re both grotesque, he’d said, a pair of freaks.

You’re not ugly, you just have a scar, you’d replied. You turned away from your task to face him. You’ll never know what it means to be ugly.

Even with his bitter remarks, you treated his wounds all the same. When he was too afraid to face himself in the reflection of the lake, you’d been the one to peel away his bandages and force him to look.

See, you’d said, not a monster, just a man.

He’d wondered if you were an angel at that moment, a saint. Or maybe you were a witch destined to lead him astray. He hadn’t really cared either way.

#twst medieval au #twst x reader #vil x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit #twst #twisted wonderland #feverish-dove

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fluorescentbalaclava · 8 months ago

Text

training season's over

Chapter 6: Contact

Summary:

Contact (mil.) Contact with the enemy.

TF141/female reader, König/female reader

spy reader, forced bonding, slow burn, slow build, militar inaccuracies, sugestive language, language, canon typical violence, second chance, domestic fluff, enemies to friends, becoming buddies, referenced torture, hurt/comfort, hugs, seeing König again

previous: chapter five "R&R"

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3 months later

"Listen---"

"---don't try to fuck us over. I know, Ghost, you tell me that every time," You whispered with a sigh, looking at him who was already looking at you, furrowing your brows. Already had the same conversation many times.

"Besides I've been on my best behaviour, you should give me some credit." You muttered, both of you were crawling on the ground, hiding in tall grass.

"Giving you credit for not betraying us? Fat chance," He mumbled back, making you roll your eyes.

Simple mission: Infiltration, one of your favourites. Ghost was against the idea of giving you that much freedom on the field, but Price decided that you were proven trustworthy enough to send you alone to steal some intel for an upcoming mission: coordinates for a delivery on the ports and its destination, that were kept inside a bunker disguised as an abandoned base. Of course, you were still wearing the ankle monitor, but at this point you got used to it, even put some stickers on it and Soap decided to draw a small foamy soap with a marker while you were taking a nap on the couch.

Price did allow Ghost to go with you to keep you in check, and watch your six while you got in.

It's been almost two months since Sage died, back on that private island, along with the Russian guard. And apparently Wire was born, as Soap considered it a more appropriate nickname for you, and quickly everyone followed, even Laswell. You had to admit that the double meaning behind it, alluding to the barbed wire you used that day and the fact that they kept joking about you being a spy was clever. You would still miss Sage, anyway.

On the bright side, they seemed to feel more comfortable using it rather than your other callsign, you guessed that it helped them to separate the “KorTac merc” from you. So, despite rolling your eyes when they first started using it, you grew accustomed to it. Although sometimes you didn’t turn around when they called you by it, forgetting your change of identity.

Ghost stayed back, letting you keep crawling through the fields alone. The breeze was nice, and the scent of the flowers was lovely, the ants not so much. Ghost freed one of the watch towers, eliminating the sentinel, and you secured a rope to climb, as he kept carefully shooting anyone who walked too close to his liking.

Ah, the coldness and the metallic smell of the vents, how I missed it.

After about 4 minutes you stopped, thinking you might have heard something in the distance, a muffled sound. After a minute or so of more silence, you decided to keep going until you saw the security room under you.

You carefully opened the air vent, putting the grill inside it, and with a swift movement you were down, your feet light against the ground.

The guard seemed distracted enough, not turning around and his face still facing the screens. Your eyes were fixed on him, as you took the knife out of your utility belt, holding it tight in your hand.

You crept up to him, knife in hand, and with a quick movement you grabbed him by the forehead to reveal his neck to your blade.

But something was wrong.

When you moved him, his whole dead weight fell to the side, landing on the floor. Lifeless.

You looked at him disconcerted, and just then you saw that the front of his uniform was already drenched with blood, the cut on his neck was still fresh enough to notice that someone got to him minutes before you.

"Maus?" You heard behind you, eyes widening and the grip on your knife tightening.

You turned around almost immediately, only to find König's towering figure about five feet away from you.

Back in KorTac you would joke to him, saying that it was impossible for the targets not to hear him coming, but now that you were in that place, he was silent, as if he materialized out of thin air. You neither heard or saw him, but a quick look around revealed an open maintenance closet where he was hidden, from where he heard some noises from the vent and saw it opening.

He recognized you on the spot, the way you fell from the vent as he peeped from inside the janitor closet, your hair in that bun, the way you stalked the man before attempting to strike. It was hard to recognize you with all that heavy gear, as he saw you wearing more scarce and light equipment before. At first, he tried to convince himself that it wasn't you, you would never wear camo and that 'awful military green' as you usually called it. But when he caught a glimpse of your eyes, he couldn't deny it.

You felt all your blood go to your arms and legs, staring into his eyes, the only part that his sniper hood left uncovered, black paint smeared around them, and he stared down back at you. Your brain immediately switched into survival mode. König was around 6'10” tall; you knew you were good, but you weren't that good, he would clearly overpower you in hand-to-hand combat. If you attacked him with your knife in hand, a quick strike on the neck could do, but you could also get yourself killed faster. If I reach for my gun I could probably---

But you were quickly snapped out of your thoughts when you felt him almost jumping at you, his hands quickly constricting around your body...but not in a harmful way.

He seemed to purposefully hold back, his touch careful. One hand wrapped around your waist while the other went behind your neck, as he leaned down and buried his face on the crook of your neck, holding you tight against him, your arms trapped on the sides of your body. A hug. You felt almost embarrassed that you were thinking about killing him. On the other hand, he was just glad that you kept using that bubblegum scented body wash.

"Krass! Maus, ich bin so glücklich, ich dachte, du wärst tot und niemand hat über dich gesprochen und---" He started saying in a hurried voice, as you were frozen in his arms, still processing what was happening. You have him a few awkward pats on his back with your free hand.

"König, english?" You asked softly, and he pulled away, looking down at you once again. His blue eyes filled with concern, looking into yours with familiarity, tenderness.

"I thought you died! I tried to ask about you and no one would say anything" he said in the same voice, a mix of excitement and anxiousness. "What the hell happened?"

"It's a long story" you said, feeling slightly overwhelmed by him, who was visibly thrilled to see you once again, and still slightly confused. "I got captured."

"Scheiße..." He muttered, and you could tell he was frowning under his hood. He then looked away, seemingly thinking about something. Before he started again. "We could go back to KorTac, explain to them all of this, and you're one of their best assets..."

You looked up at him, narrowing your eyes. One of their best assets? Probably his fondness of your talking for him. You were efficient, good at best, but still disposable. However, you kept listening to him, as he got progressively more carried away with his idea.

"...they could even relocate you to another country for a while, and cover your tracks, then we---"

Could you really do that? Just escape now in the middle of this mission? Would KorTac even want you back at this point? Or be willing to spend those many resources in helping you? They didn't even talk about you to König when he asked. Then your eyes drifted to the screens next to you. Your thoughts went back to being sat on the common room, sitting in the middle of Gaz and Soap, and them laughing at you as you sipped from the “I’m not short, I’m just more down to earth than most people!” mug they got you back in town. Price was a nice commanding officer, he was clearly experienced, and it was nice to be bossed around by someone who was actually in the field with you, rather than behind a desk. Ghost…was Ghost, he still didn’t talk to you when off duty, but he kept it professional while working.

And even if you and König were relatively close, you never sat down like you did with your sergeants with him, your talks were limited to sharing one hour when he was at base and conversations while travelling. You didn’t know what he liked outside explosives and sniper rifles of which he, very often and with a childlike enthusiasm, talked about. And this was the first time he ever touched you, let alone a hug.

When you joined KorTac, you ghosted most of your friends back home, completely going off the radar from them, even when they tried to reach out through your parents, your excuse was that you were too busy now. So, friends were scarce at the time.

And your parents. Fleeing would not only mean running away from the 141 but also from your family. Who would send them money if you ran away? The mortgage, healthcare, bills, they were too much for them. You didn’t see them frequently, but the idea of not seeing them ever again made your stomach turn.

And of course, you would become a wanted criminal.

"König!" He snapped out of his rambling and focused his eyes again on you, tilting his head.

"I can't" You softly said. Your voice too strained to your liking, as you looked up at him.

He still hasn't let you go fully, still embracing you, just put space between you to be able to talk.

"W-What do you mean you can't?" He said shaking his head, clearly confused. In his mind, it was the obvious course of action.

You felt his grip tighten around you, and your comm cracked.

"Wire, how copy?" Ghost's voice said through the comm, sounding slightly impatient, prompting König to look at the source of the voice on your shoulder, and then at you again.

"Almost there, need a sec" You answered not taking off your eyes from the man towering over you.

"Wire? Was that the lieutenant of the 141?" he said drifting from your face to look down to your geared body, as if he was connecting the pieces, trying to make sense of the situation.

“You are working with them.” He said as realization hit him.

"But why, Maus?"

"I have a family, König. I can't live on the run, and they offered me a deal if I worked with them…I…I can't go to jail" You explained, looking up at him furrowing your eyebrows in distress, and you pulled down your face mask, letting him see your face fully. If it was possible, his eyes became even gentler at the sight of your face, his gaze taking in every detail.

"Family…? I didn't know" He answered in a faint and soft tone, looking down for a moment.

Then he looked at you for a few more seconds, that felt hours. He felt conflicted.

König wasn't dumb, he knew that every time you spoke to him you only revealed surface level information about yourself. Except from your PTSD, that probably was too heavy a burden to keep to yourself. Then, his hand moved from the back of your neck to your temple, as he gently traced the scar that peeked out of your hairline, going into your hair. His glove was surprisingly soothing against your scalp.

He still remembers the day you were captured. The mission went wrong, Konni soldiers were waiting for you, it was a set up; he remembers the unsettling calmness in which you explained the tortures you went through in those four days you were missing. Tied up, without food nor water, as you were constantly deprived from sleep, waterboarded, tortured with electricity, beaten up…he still remembers when the initial shock faded, and was soon replaced by anxiousness, grief, fear. He knew well about that. He remembers when you finally broke down and confessed that you could barely sleep at night, haunted by memories of being tied up, in the darkness, alone, or of your captors beating you. He tried to sooth you, to explain to you it was normal, but you needed help. Weighted blankets, sleep with a light on, drinking chamomile before bed, he recommended you what worked best for him, as well as therapy. How he wished he would have hugged you like this back then.

It took you a few months until you went back to being fully functional, he tried to take you out of your room in the barracks for a walk or tea, when he was in base, which he admits wasn’t as frequent as he would have wanted. The first time you smiled again was while on a truck, going back to the safe house KorTac had in Berlin. You showed him a photo of the little animal figures you bought, he didn’t understand what they were exactly or their purpose, but he was glad they brought you joy.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he let out a sigh, finally pulling away from you, basically forcing himself to. He slowly reached for his belt, making you flinch and instinctively raised the hand with the knife, to which he rose his other hand in surrender, as he reached inside one of his pockets, pulling out a flash drive, offering it to you.

"This is all the intel we found. There's a whole KorTac team here, I am leading Delta today. You and your new...friend, should go."

"König?" He reached for his handgun, spinning it on his hand and offering it to you.

"You moved too fast, you stole my weapon and shot me, and you fled with the intel. Nothing I could do to catch you. And I didn’t even saw your face, it was all too quick." He said with a sigh, but still gentle. You grabbed the weapon with a bit of doubt and inspected it before looking up at him again.

"I'm not going to shoot you. I could just knock you."

"Be serious, Maus." He said in a tone that said that it wouldn't be believable, and you would be mad if it wasn't true.

"It's okay, I don't mind" he said softly again, reassuring you.

"König, I'm not going to shoot you" you said in a firm tone, the one that usually made him slightly uneasy, but you were now met with a determined demeanour.

"Then they'll know I let you run away with the intel, and I'll face the consequences for my lack of judgement" You can't remember a time when you heard him so decided about something, let alone getting shot.

You groaned and reluctantly lifted his gun. You didn’t want him to get in trouble, he loves his job.

Thigh is out of the question, as well as torso. Feet are not fatal but crippling...

Shoulder.

He must have seen you aim there, taking a deep breath to try to ease your tension at the necessity of shooting someone who you consider close.

"Avoid the brachial artery, and if you could kindly avoid the---"

"Humerus because it's painful, and branchial plexus or you won't be able to move your arm. I know" you said looking straight to his shoulder before your eyes drifted back to his eyes. His gaze still fixed in you.

"I...I can't"

"Yes, you can, Maus. And we're running out of time. It's a 22. calibre, if you shot on pectoralis minor avoiding my bones and arteries, I'll be fine. Will be an in-and-out. Flesh wound. Textbook," There's nothing textbook about this.

You took another deep breath, your eyes focusing on the spot, until they drifted back to König, and his gaze still felt unbelievably soft, despite the situation. You have worked with him since you joined KorTac, your commanding officer…your friend. He saw you become who you are.

"Thank you" You whispered to him, gratefulness in your voice.

He nodded, and the way his eyes were creasing made you believe he might be smiling.

Across the hallway, Delta-3, who was shooting the last remaining witness with his silencer, heard a singular gunshot. Coming from the same door where their C.O. disappeared a few minutes ago. He quickly alerted the others.

König didn’t have a big reaction. He squeezed his eyes shut while he grunted before he told you to flee. And you thanked him one last time before you jumped back into the vent.

"Ghost, I have the intel, but I've been compromised. Building is filled with KorTac operators. Meet you at the exfil point." You muttered as you were quickly crawling through the vents again, hearing behind you screams in German and in English calling for back-ups. He was kind enough to give you a two-minute advantage.

You went down the rope on the side of the building, from the watch tower you used to get into, and ran as fast as you could through the fields. When you were half on the way you heard screams, quickly followed by shots on the ground and the trees beside you, before your figure was lost over a hill, making König let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

You kept running until you saw the Jeep that you used to get there, with Ghost already sitting on the driver seat, the motor already on.

However, when relief was washing over you, panting from the long sprint over the hill as you opened the passenger door, you quickly met the end of a gun pointing at you. First you looked back in confusion…then in fear, but you raised your hands slowly, meeting his eyes.

"Ghost..." You managed to make out, your words were slow and careful. Your mind already too clouded with emotions from your encounter with König.

"KorTac, huh?" His tone was cold, cutting right through you.

"I didn't know! I even had to shoot one of them" Not mortally, and he let me, but still technically true. "Laswell checks all my devices, I never leave the base, you have a tracker on me. Hell, I can't betray you even if I wanted.”

Ghost was not one to trust, especially you. You were in the comfort of your flat, bought with your mercenary money, crossing paths with him, and pretending you weren't into his team like a damn leech. He had to admit you were a good liar in general, probably the reason why you were on the job.

"Simon…please." You pleaded, your hands still up, your voice almost a whisper. His jaw tightened, biting into nothing.

He knew that you were calling him by his name as a desperate attempt of moving something in him, to make him think of you as someone somehow familiar, to make him trust you. He hated that it somewhat worked. His eyes were locked on your face, studying it. When you would talk to him on the lift, or when you arrived to your flat, in your eyes, he could see that you were lying. It was just a hint, something quick, easy to miss if someone wasn’t looking for it in the first place. But today he didn't find that, he saw something else. You were telling the truth, and you were genuinely terrified.

He moved his thumb, putting the safety back on, and lowered his gun.

You breathe again, your body is still tense, and with your heart still pounding in your chest, you quickly get into the car.

You spend the next hour on a very silent road back to the airport.

As every Tuesday night, you were in the common room, sitting on the couch with Soap and Gaz, watching the Great British Bake Off, a new season. You liked it, it temporarily numbed your brain, and having company was soothing.

"I miss the old guys. I still can't believe that cunt won" Soap groaned, leaning back to the arm of the couch. He had his legs over it, and a notebook resting on his legs as he seemed not focused on the TV but in the paper in front of him.

"Bonnie, can you lift your chin a bit?" He asked, to which you just raised your face slightly, complying. Still focusing on the screen, attentively hearing today's recipe.

"It's been like one month, get over it" Gaz said, and when he heard Soap's request, he turned to him, peeping over his legs into his journal. He saw a halfway sketch of your profile, along with other small drawings like your mug and a sketch of Riley. He then added.

"Drawing her like one of your French girls? Very smooth, MacTavish" he said teasingly, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, she saw my journal and she asked me to. Besides she is still dressed..." He said defensively. He had to admit that having an excuse to stare at you was pleasant.

“…for now," He muttered under his breath with a small smirk, jokingly, winning a playful scoff from you.

"And I intend to keep it that way," You said back.

Gaz and you were watching attentively how one of the new contestants was putting his broken ganache aside, clearly frustrated as she started a whole new batch.

"She should try to melt it and whisk it. Still can be saved" A familiar husky voice said from behind the three of you.

All of you turned around, only to find a nonchalant Ghost, with his mask over the bridge or his nose, sipping on his tea and watching the TV.

Simon purposefully avoided the common room on Tuesdays, not wanting to perturb whatever ritual you had going on with Gaz and Soap, and to avoid you. The image of you, blood stained, sitting next to the guard you just butchered returned to his mind more than he would like to admit. The man was easily a head taller than you, bigger than you, and yet he was laying dead, face almost disfigured by your hand. He couldn’t help but being impressed, as he assumed you were only good to shove yourself into small spaces and stalk. Knowing that you were capable of such carnage, despite your size, sparked something in him. He hated that. But he appreciated the resourceful use of the barbed wire.

When you were in the jeep, silent and still shaken with adrenaline beside him, he felt a tingle of guilt from pointing a gun at you. He knew he was justified, as the whole situation felt oddly suspicious, but Price was right, you weren’t giving any reasons to doubt you, and you were right as well, as you were heavily monitored to even try something out of the ordinary. His thoughts were divided between apologizing and don’t, both sides had good arguments in his head. So, showing up was a middle ground. An olive branch, sort of speak.

"You bake?" Soap asked in an incredulous tone, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"I know a few things," He answered before taking another sip.

"How come you never bake anything for us?" Soap asked again, this time sounding outraged.

"You never asked."

chapter seven: coming soon!

Sorry for taking so long! Had a few small issues but I'm feeling inspired again! Will be updating soon <3

Thank you to the lovely people following this! : @no-lessthan3, @blush-haze, @eustassh, @valkyrieunknown

if you like it leave me some kudos or suggestions on ao3! <3

#call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod modern warfare #cod #konig cod #konig x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #soap x reader #soap cod #john soap mactavish #john price x reader #john price

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elianamarie-blog · 11 months ago

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The Things You Give Part 33

Whooooooweeee it's be a very long time! I'm so sorry it took so long to write this! I've been having a hard time feeling motivated but it's past the New Years and I decided that I need to end this story shortly. Story isn't done quite yet, but there are only a few more chapters! I hope you all had a beautiful holiday season and New Years! I know I did. Enjoy the chapter!

Quick note: Danny Masterson has been imprisoned and now Mila Kunis and Ashton Kutcher are under fire and now being cancelled apparently. Not a good start of the year for anyone.

June 1, 1979

Point Place, Wisconsin

Forman/Hyde Residence

Eric Forman’s Kitchen

“Hey, you two, how was your doctor’s appointment?” Kitty asked as she was stirring a hot pot of chili on the stove.

“Ugh,” Y/n groaned and plopped down on the chair at the table.

“The doctor says she can pop any day now,” Hyde answered for her and opened the fridge for a drink.

“Awe, sweetheart, you must be so uncomfortable,” Kitty said.

“I am. I’m so sick of being pregnant,” she whined. “I’m tired, my ankles are fat, my back hurts and—Steven! Will you please stop breathing down my neck?!”

“Uh,” he replied from the counter, no where close to her. “I’m over here.”

Y/n whined again. “I’m so sick of being pregnant.”

“The doctor said there are a couple things we can do to induce labor,” Steven said and pulled out a list. “She said we can try spicy foods, long walks, castor oil—”

“Don’t forget what she said could be more effective,” Y/n cut in.

Steven gave her a stoney look and put his hand on his hip. “I’m not saying that.”

“Why not? She’s a nurse she hears this stuff all the time! Besides, she’s gone through this as well!”

“What? Tell me what?” Kitty asked.

“No, I’m not saying it!”

“Steven!”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, tell me what?!” Kitty cried out.

“The doctor said sex can be the most effective to induce labor,” Y/n blurted out.

“Y/n, what the hell?!” Steven said, embarrassed.

“Oh,” Kitty said lowly and dropped her gaze back to the chili, almost uninterested. “Okay.”

“Okay? That’s all you got to say?” Y/n asked.

“Honey, it’s pretty clear that you wouldn’t be pregnant if you and Steven hadn’t…you know…”

“Okay!” Steven interrupted. “As nice as this conversation is, I gotta get to work.”

“Okay, fine, but—Mom, cover your ears—we’re doing it later!” Y/n shouted after him as he slammed the door shut, hoping to drown out that last part.

“Well, isn’t that lovely,” Kitty mumbled and poured herself a cup of chili. “Y/n, on a more appropriate topic, do you want some chili?”

“Hey, guys,” Eric introduced himself as he entered the kitchen. “Great news! I’m on my way to becoming a teacher. I filled out all my college application with red pen.” He giggled to himself. “That’s a teacher joke.”

“Well, now look at him!” Red announced as he walked through the kitchen door. “Out of bed and productive before three o’ clock.”

“Honey, you’re like a marine!” Kitty said cheerfully.

“A marine?” Y/n asked. “The only time I ever saw him storm a beach was when he was running away from a jellyfish!”

“Damn, what did you have for breakfast this morning? Carnation Instant Bitch?” Eric quipped.

“If I could get up, I’d kick your ass for saying that,” Y/n threatened, sighing, and shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the pain in lower back starting to intensify.

“Yeah, anyway,” Eric said and turned back to Red. “Hey, dad, all I need from you now is a financial statement so the school can see where I'm getting the old moola.”

“Oh, well, you see about that…” Red mumbled, nervous. “I, uh...I spent your college money to keep the muffler shop going.”

“What?!” the twins shouted.

“You spent our college fund?!” Y/n continued.

“Why do you care?” Eric asked her. “It’s not like you’re going to college anytime soon. You don’t even know what you want to study.”

“Who says I don’t?” she asked. “I decided that I’m going to study biomedical engineering. Beat that, teach.”

“You’re going to study biomedical engineering?!” Kitty asked excitedly. “I knew you were going to take after me in the medical field!”

“Except the difference is she’ll be helping advance technology in the medical field instead of having to wipe people’s butts and administer them their IV’s,” Red said.

“Is that what you think I do all day?” Kitty asked, offended.

“Uh…” he whipped back to Y/n who was looking up at him with an amused smile. “Good job, kitten. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you,” she responded. “It would mean more if we had our college money!”

“Dad, how are we supposed to pay for college?” Eric asked.

“Look, with this damn mild winter, nobody's muffler rusted,” Red said. “I tried to rust them. I even went out at night and sprinkled salt all over the streets!”

Kitty squinted at her husband. “Not my good kosher salt!”

Red looked at his wife with a deadpanned look and rolled his eyes. “Yes, Kitty, I sprinkled the streets of Point Place with your half-pound bag of salt.”

“Wait. Mom, you knew about this?” Eric asked. “And you just said, ‘Please, go ahead. Take my son's college money and use it on a muffler shop?’”

“No,” she responded. “I think your father asked me if I thought you two would amount to anything, and I said, ‘I really, really hope so.’ And then he said, ‘I'm spending the twins’ college money on my muffler shop.’ And then I made the best blueberry cobbler I have ever made."

“Man, that was good,” Y/n reminisced. “I remember that cobbler. I always wondered why, when I said it was so good, you said, ‘At least I can give you this,’ and started to cry.”

“So, the upshot is, I have absolutely no money for college,” Eric said and puckered his lips in deep thought. “Looks like I’m going to have to use that football scholarship that was offered to me.”

“Oh, Eric, we should go talk to Mr. Bray!” Y/n suggested.

“Our old guidance counselor?” he asked.

“Finding money for college is what high school guidance counselors do.”

“I don't know about Mr. Bray. I don't think he really liked me,” Eric said. “One time I told him I was being bullied, and he just said, ‘What'd you expect?’"

“I’ll go with you,” Y/n said. “Mr. Bray loved me…in almost entirely appropriate ways.”

“Yeah…we’ll go,” Eric said, a little concerned.

“Okay, now that we got all that settled, we should celebrate!” Kitty announced.

Y/n scoffed. “Sure. With what?”

--Later that day—

“Hey, don’t forget about the Led Zepplin concert next Friday,” Eric reminded his friends as they all sat in the basement.

“How could I forget?” Hyde asked. “It was the greatest bribery I’ve ever had.”

Y/n rolled her eyes at them.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Hyde. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing," she sighed, eyeing the TV and rubbed her belly.

“No, no you don’t get to do that just because you’re pregnant,” he pushed. “I know you, what’s wrong?”

“Awe, Steven, that’s really sweet,” Jackie said and turned to Markus. “When he and I were together, he wouldn’t even be bothered to ask me what was wrong. It didn’t even faze him.”

“To be fair, you’re always bothered by something,” Hyde quipped. “It was something new every day. I stopped keeping up after a while.”

“I am not!” she argued and turned to Markus who gave her a look. “Okay, maybe I was, but I’ve changed! The other day, I walked by a shoe sale and wasn’t upset that they didn’t have this beautiful shoe in my size. See? Growth.”

“Sure,” Hyde mindlessly and turned back to his wife. “C’mon, what’s wrong?”

“I’d rather not talk about it in front of our friends,” she responded.

“So, you guys can make out in front of us, even get caught doing it, but expressing why you’re upset is where you draw the line?” Donna pointed out.

“Yeah, spill it!” Fez demanded.

Y/n paused before sighing through her nose. “I don’t think you should go.”

“What?!” Eric shouted.

“Why?!” Hyde asked, appalled. “Why don’t you want me to go?”

“Well, I could go into labor any day now and I’d hate for you to miss the birth of your children for a concert,” she explained calmly.

“Y/n, your due date is on Monday. The kids will be here a full five days before the concert. I think it’ll be okay.”

“What if they’re not here by then? They can be late, you know,” Y/n pointed out.

“Come on, don’t do this,” Hyde said. “Don’t make me choose.”

“I shouldn’t have to make you!” she burst out. “You should know what comes first! Not some stupid concert!”

That made the group audibly gasp.

“What?! What I say?!” she asked them.

“You take that back!” Eric said, his voice wobbly.

“Blasphemous!” Kelso shouted.

“How dare you?” Fez asked under his breath.

“Oh, come on you guys, you can’t be serious,” she said. “Are you telling me my giving birth isn’t as important as some band?”

Everyone was quiet for a minute, filling Y/n with rage.

“It’s Led Zepplin,” Fez said quietly.

“Seriously?!” Y/n screeched and stood up. “You’re all going to leave me here all alone?!”

“I’m not going to the concert,” Markus piped up. “I’ll be here for you.”

She turned to everyone else. “Thank you, Markus. Maybe if I have boys I can name one of them after you!”

This made Jackie gasp. “How dare you?! I thought we agreed on Jack or Jackie!”

“I agreed to nothing!” Y/n argued. “You just assume because you think everyone caters to you, but you can’t be bothered to return the favor! The person who helps me deserves the credit.”

“What--?! That is not true!” Jackie shouted.

Everyone around her scoffed.

“C’mon, Jackie,” Donna said, side-eyeing her.

Jackie spun around to her boyfriend. “Markus! Aren’t you going to say something?”

He shrugged. “Sorry, babe, I have to agree with Y/n on this one.”

“Oh, you are in so much trouble!” she screeched.

Y/n clapped her hands and stomped her foot, gaining their attention. “Guys! Really? I thought that after we’ve all been through, you would want to be there for the birth of your nieces or nephews.” She turned to Hyde. “Or your children.” When no one responded, Y/n scoffed, hurt. “You know, what? I don’t care what you guys do. Go to the concert. Have fun.”

She didn’t let them get another single word out before she quietly walked upstairs to her room.

Once the door slammed, Donna turned to the group. “You guys, I feel really bad.”

“Yeah…I’d be pissed too if I couldn’t go to the concert,” Kelso said casually, opening a popsicle.

“No, you moron! That’s not why she’s upset!” Hyde said, irritated.

“Well, what does she expect us to do?” Eric asked. “Those tickets were a lot and it’s not our fault that the concert falls around the same time of her due date.” When he caught Donna glaring at him, he shrugged his shoulders. “What?!”

“You’re an ass,” Donna said. “I don’t think I want to go anymore.”

“Oh, come on! You have to go,” her boyfriend said. “She may not even have the kids on the day of the concert. It would be such a waste if we didn’t go.”

“Wow, Eric,” Donna said bitterly. “You’re being incredibly insensitive.”

“Okay, let’s say the babies come before the concert. No harm, no foul, amiright?” Eric asked.

“That’s if Hyde wants to go,” Markus responded. “When my sister and her husband had my niece, they were up pretty much three days straight and the last thing they wanted to do was go to a noisy concert.”

“Well, I think she’s being a little dramatic and honestly—quite selfish,” Kelso said. Everyone turned to look at him, finding himself cringing when Hyde gave him a death glare. “What?! She is!”

“She has a point, Michael!” Jackie defended. “No matter how mean and unfair she was to me.”

“You’re telling me that we might miss her birth is an overreaction?” Donna questioned him.

Kelso nodded and shrugged. “Well…yeah!”

“Unbelievable,” Donna said curtly as Hyde slugged Kelso in the arm.

“Ow, Hyde! What the hell?!”

“Keep talking crap about my wife Kelso and you’re going home with more than a bruised arm,” he threatened.

“Damn, sorry I said anything,” Kelso whined while rubbing his sore shoulder.

“You should be,” Hyde said and made his way towards the stairs. “I’m going to go talk to her.”

He took two steps at a time as he followed his bride.

Y/n laid there in bed, glaring at the ceiling. Scenarios of possibilities wouldn’t stop dancing in her head about the day she would give birth while her supposed loving husband was at a concert.

She felt a very wet sensation run down her leg. As she looked down, she noticed that her water had broken, and it wasn’t long until the pain of contractions came along.

“Steven!” she cried out in pain. “Steven, the babies are coming!”

“Oh, really?” he asked, barley looking up from putting his jacket on. “This is inconvenient. Can you wait until I get back from the concert?”

“What?!”

“Look, the babies are important, but…Led Zepplin,” he replied, stepping backwards towards the door. “Just hold those kids in for me! Love you, bye!”

Y/n sneered at the thought, but her mind continued to race.

Smoke, heavy bass, and body sweat filled the air as the group, minus Y/n, head banged their way through each song of Led Zepplin.

“Hey, Hyde, isn’t Y/n giving birth right now?” Donna shouted through the noise, wide smile on her face.

“Yeah, but this is more important!” he shouted back.

“Yeah, to hell with her!” Eric shouted. “Led Zepplin is way more important!”

“Yeah, she’ll be fine,” Steven said. “We can always have more kids that I’ll probably end up being there for the birth!”

Tears started to well in her eyes. “Jerks.”

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Y/n?” Steven asked as he poked his head through their shared bedroom door.

She quickly grabbed for her pregnancy book on the nightstand and pretended to be reading.

“Doll, can we talk?”

“About what?” she mumbled.

“You know what.”

“I think you made up your mind, so there’s no point,” she said, staring at the page.

“No, no that’s why I wanted to come up here,” he replied. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?”

“Don’t be.”

“Y/n, can you please look at me?” he asked her and took the book from her, only to see tear streaks down her face. “Awe, Doll…”

She couldn’t stifle her sobs anymore as she broke down. “You love Led Zepplin more than me!” She shoved her face into a pillow.

He didn’t know if he should laugh or groan. “Y/n, come on, you know that’s not true.”

“No, it is!” she continued to wail. “I’m going to go into labor and you’re not going to care!”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, counting to ten. “You know that’s not true.”

“You won’t even help me go into labor!” she whined.

“I’m not going to sleep with you just so you can go into labor,” he deadpanned.

Y/n sat up and wiped at her face. “C’mon, Steven, I’m miserable here! The babies will be fine. It’s doctor recommended!”

“We haven’t even tried the others yet,” he said calmly.

Her face contorted again, fat tears rolling down her face. “You don’t find me attractive anymore!”

“I never said that!” Steven couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Then why won’t you make love to me?!”

“First, don’t say it like that ever again. And second: it has nothing to do with my finding you attractive.”

“Then what is it?” she wept.

“It’s…it’s nothing.”

This made her stop crying immediately and glare at him instead. He almost missed her crying. “What a load of crap!”

“C’mon, Y/n, don’t make me say it.”

“No, you’re gonna!” she demanded. “I want to know why you won’t have sex with your wife to help her go into labor!”

Steven tilted his head back at and stared at the ceiling. Closing his eyes, he groaned before looking back at her. “It’s weird, okay? I’m going to be doing you knowing that the babies are…right there. Knowing what’s going on.”

Y/n scrunched her eyebrows at him. “The babies are in my uterus, not in my, you know, hoo-ha.”

Steven found himself chucking at her euphonism. “What if I hurt them?”

“Like I just said, they’re farther up there than you can reach.”

“Ouch.”

She laughed and placed her hand on his arm. “Trust me, that’s something to be proud of.”

He laughed with her and kissed her.

“Let’s make a deal,” she said, catching his attention. “If I go into labor before the concert, by all means, go. But if I don’t by Friday—you don’t. What do you think?”

He tilted his head to the side, thinking before nodding. “Okay, let’s do it.”

“Okay, good,” she smiled at him as he leaned down to kiss her.

“How bout we try now?”

“Now you want to? Because of a concert?!”

“No, more so now I know I won’t hurt them or make it as weird.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky I love you.”

He laid her down onto her back, hovering above her and gently smiled. “That I am.”

That Following Monday…

“That’s right, still no babies!” Y/n announced as she and Steven walked into the kitchen after their doctor appointment. Everyone sat in the kitchen, hanging out and snacking. Kitty, Donna, and Jackie sat at the table while Eric, Fez, and Kelso sat at the counter munching on some pop-tarts. “Today’s my due date and I am nowhere near in labor! Gah! This sucks!”

She plopped down at the table, causing it to shift.

“Oh, honey, I know how you feel,” Kitty comforted. “When I was pregnant with Laurie, I wanted her out so bad I almost reached a hand up there and yanked her out myself!”

“That’s a great story, Mom. Can you tell that to me while you’re getting me some iced tea?” Y/n snapped.

Kitty glared at her daughter as she reluctantly got up and grabbed for the pitcher in the fridge.

“Damn, pregnancy doesn’t agree with you,” Jackie said. “The bitch hormone is being released.”

“You try carrying twins who won’t stop kicking me—and each other!” she responded as the glass was placed in front of her. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Kitty grumbled as she sat back down.

“Seriously, I’ll wake up in the middle of the night to one or both of the babies moving and kicking me. Have you ever had feet stuck in your ribcage? It’s a rude awakening. Literally.”

“Yeah, I feel your pain,” Hyde said. “Whenever you’re up, I’m up.”

“Oh, shove it!” Y/n spit. “You sleep like a damn log every night! You can be getting attacked while you’re dead asleep and barley stir!”

“No, I hear you. I just choose to stay still.”

“So, while I’m over here in uncomfortable, you’re snuggling your pillow just to avoid me?!”

Fez, Kelso, and Eric shifted their gazes to Hyde with amused smirks on their faces.

“You cuddle your pillow, Hyde?” Eric taunted.

“Shut up, Forman or I will suffocate you with said pillow.”

“But if you do, you won’t have a pillow to cuddle at night,” Fez continued.

“Shut up, Fez!”

“Y/n, have you tried any of the doctor’s suggestions?” Kitty asked.

“Yeah! Steven and I have done it like a dozen times since then,” she answered.

Kitty closed her eyes and rubbed her head. “Honey…have you tried anything else besides that?”

“No, not yet.”

“Well, why don’t you start with food? Let’s go out tonight.”

Y/n shrugged. “Yeah, let’s try that.”

“And the weather is supposed to be cooler tonight, we can go on that long walk,” Hyde said.

She sighed and rubbed her aching neck. “Yeah, that works.”

“There’s a good Indian restaurant that serves the spiciest curry downtown,” Kitty said. “Let’s go there.”

“Uh, do I have to go?” Eric piped up. “Last time I had anything spicy, I sat on the toilet for three days.”

“Ew,” Hyde said and turned to his wife. “Look, I’m going to go look for those specific teas the doc told me about. Do you want anything else?”

“Yeah, just about everything on that list,” she responded. “Get the castor oil, some hot peppers, pineapples—”

“Should I just get the whole store?” Hyde asked.

“Yes please.”

Hyde nodded and kissed her head. “I’ll be back.”

As soon as he walked out the door, Y/n stood. “Well, I’ve got to pee again. I swear these damn kids think that my bladder is a squeeze toy.”

“She’s got to have those kids any day now,” Donna said once Y/n had waddled out the kitchen.

“Yeah, it’s not like they’re trying,” said Kelso. “Hyde told me yesterday that she promised him that if she can give birth before Friday then he can go to the concert. Man, that must suck. Having an ol’ ball and chain telling you what to do.”

“Well, you’d never know since you’re too busy cheating on every girl you’ve ever dated,” Jackie snarked.

“Well, what do you say we make this interesting?” Kelso asked, ignoring Jackie’s comment.

“What do you mean?” Eric asked, tossing a Styrofoam football in the air.

“I’ll bet you ten bucks she has the babies tomorrow,” he responded with a wide smirk.

“You’re on!” Jackie said excitedly and reached for her purse.

“Guys, I don’t feel right about this,” Donna said. “It’s not cool to bet on when our friend will go into labor.”

“Ugh, Donna,” Y/n called as she waddled down the stairs. “That candle you gave me smells horrible. Next time, maybe try getting me a candle that doesn’t smell like nature took a dump and forgot to flush.”

“It’s the smell of a forest!” she defended.

“Have you ever been to the forest?” Y/n said. “It doesn’t smell like that.”

Before she could let Donna respond, she waddled back upstairs. Once the door closed, Donna turned back to the group, annoyance written all over her face. “Make it twenty.”

--Later—

“Guys, I got some great news from the guidance counselor!” Eric announced as he ran into the living room where his family and Donna were sitting, watching TV.

“Yeah? What is it?” Red asked, turning down the volume on the TV.

“There's this program where you go and teach in an impoverished area for a year, and then they pay for your college. So, I signed up.”

“Eric, that’s wonderful!” Kitty cheered.

“That’s awesome!” Y/n joined in.

“See? I knew spending your college money would work out for the best,” Red said, smugly. “You're welcome.”

“So, where’s this impoverished place that you’re going to?” Steven asked.

“Is it east Milwaukee? You know I made a wrong turn there once and I ended up in this awful neighborhood,” Kitty said and lowered her voice as if anyone outside the living room could hear her. “They were playing radios on street corners!”

Eric shook his head. “No, I’m not going to east Milwaukee.”

“So, where then?” Donna asked.

Eric laid his hands out, palms up in excitement. “Its Africa.”

“Africa?!” Everyone said in shock.

“Africa, Wisconsin?” Kitty asked hopefully.

“No, Kitty, the country,” Red answered.

“You’re going to teach in Africa?” Y/n asked, her heart breaking. “So, does that mean you’re not going to be here when the babies are born?”

“No, no, I’ll still be here,” Eric said. “I’ll be leaving in August.”

“Oh,” she responded. “H-how long will you be gone?”

“About a year.”

“A YEAR?!” All three women shouted.

“What’s the big deal?” Eric asked, eyebrows knitting in confusion.

“The big deal is you made this big decision without coming to me at all!” Donna shouted and stood from the couch and stormed out.

“See? Donna understands,” Kitty said while Eric sighed in defeat.

This isn’t how he was planning this go at all.

--Later that evening--

“Joey?” Y/n asked her husband as they sat at the kitchen table, eating dinner.

Hyde shook his head. “Have a cousin named Joey. Last I heard he was being treated for VD and on his way to a halfway house.”

“Oookay,” Y/n said, going down the list of names in her book. “Victoria?”

“No.”

“Why not?!”

“Because my mom had a best friend named Victoria.” He paused to take a bite of his spicy food before going into deep thought. “Pretty sure at one point she was more than that.”

Y/n gave him a blank stared smile. “I’ll never be able to erase that image out of my mind.”

“How bout Jimmy?”

Y/n put down the book. “Why Jimmy?”

He shrugged and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I’ve just always liked that name.”

She squinted her eyes at him. “Since when?”

“I don’t know, a few years maybe.”

“Or maybe because it’s the name of the guitarist in Led Zepplin?”

Hyde pretended to be shocked. “Is that where that’s from? Wow, what are the odds?”

Y/n rolled her eyes at him. “Keep thinking, genius.”

“Eleanor?” he suggested.

“I’m sorry, am I giving birth to a seventy-five-year-old?”

“What’s wrong with Eleanor?”

“I feel like I’d be giving birth to a Roosevelt. No, thank you.”

“We can call her Ellie for short,” he argued.

“Ellie Hyde?” she questioned.

“Let’s keep brainstorming,” he agreed and looked at her plate which she barely touched. “Why aren’t you eating your spicy curry? I added extra peppers for you.”

Y/n let out a sigh and put down her book. “It’s not working. Nothing is going to get these kids out.”

“You’ve barley taken a bite out of your food. Maybe if you eat half of it, you’ll actually go into labor.”

“If I eat anymore, I’ll be breathing out fire,” she deadpanned.

“Come on, it’s good. Try it,” he encouraged before taking a bite of her curry. It didn’t take long for the spices to set his mouth aflame. He started panting like a dog before desperately grabbing her glass of water and downing it like a man who hasn’t had water in days.

“Oh, my God,” he panted once the water was down. “How are you eating this?”

Y/n gave him an amused smile. “I’m about to push two human beings out of me, I think a hot mouth is the least of my worries.”

“Speaking of hot mouth, why don’t you and I go upstairs and try to get these babies here?” Hyde suggested, wiggling his eyebrows.

“C’mon, we’ve done it like a hundred times; clearly the babies aren’t coming,” she replied, defeated.

“You don’t know that,” he replied gently.

Y/n shook her head, defeated. “I guess these babies will come when they decide to.”

Steven looked at her before standing to his feet. “Come on. We’re going for a walk.”

45 Minutes Later...

“I told you the walk wouldn’t work!” Y/n complained as they walked through the sliding door, picking out leaves and twigs from her hair.

“Well, it would’ve if you hadn’t tried to jump on me in the park!” Hyde argued as he looked down at the mud stains on his pants and shirt.

“I was trying to be romantic!”

“You’re trying to get these kids out of you so fast, you’re willing to knock us both over in a big puddle just for a quickie behind a bush!”

“How the hell was I supposed to know there was a deep mud puddle there?!” she yelled, prying her wet and muddy dress away from her thighs.

“Gee, I don’t know, maybe the fact that it RAINED earlier?” he yelled back.

“Ugh, you know what, I’m going to go shower. Don’t follow me!”

“What is going on?” Eric asked as he entered the kitchen with Donna. He took one look at the couple and started laughing. “What happened to you two?”

“Y/n thought it would be the perfect time to get romantic on a walk in the park to try to go into labor,” Steven replied, glaring at his wife who wasn’t even looking at him.

Eric scrunched up his nose at them. “Sorry I asked.”

“I’m going to go shower because the mud is started seal my butt cheeks together,” Y/n announced before waddling out the kitchen.

“Didn’t need to know that!” Eric cried out and turned back to Hyde. “So, are you guys going to keep trying?”

Hyde sighed frustratingly. “At this point, I don’t know. We’ve tried spicy foods, canola oil, sex…nothing is working. The long walk may have worked if she hadn’t cut it short.”

“Well, you know, maybe the babies will come tomorrow…or in a couple days…” Donna suggested and nonchalantly grabbed a soda from the fridge.

“I don’t know. I’m starting to think these kids are going to come closer to the concert and I just got to accept the fact that I’m not going to be able to make it.”

“What?! No, Hyde don’t say that,” Eric said. “You’re going to be able to have those babies and still go to the concert.”

“You know, Hyde, maybe you’re not doing this right,” Donna said and sat at the table. “Maybe, the babies will come tomorrow or Wednesday…”

Hyde squinted his eyes at her. “Why? Why tomorrow or Wednesday?”

She shook her head. “No reason!”

Hyde rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever. I’m going to shower as well. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

Once he was out of earshot, Eric turned to Donna.

“Way to almost blow our cover!”

---

Tuesday came and go with Y/n getting more miserable by the minute.

“It’s Tuesday night, she can still have the baby tonight!” Jackie argued.

“You had until 8pm. You can’t bend the rules now. Now pay up!” Donna chortled and held out her hand.

“Fine!” Jackie screeched and reached into her purse. “Here’s your stupid twenty bucks!”

“Thank you,” Donna said smugly and fanned her face with the two tens.

“Okay, double or nothing she has them by tomorrow,” Jackie said.

“I bet she’ll have them by Thursday,” Kelso said.

“I bet you’re all wrong,” Eric said. “I want to say she’ll have them by Sunday.”

“And I bet she’s losing six friends,” Markus piped up, disgusted at their behavior.

“Five,” Eric corrected. “She can’t lose me. I’m her brother after all.”

“I don’t think that’s going to make a difference,” Markus said.

“Markus, baby, shush,” Jackie said, tapping his leg. “We’re just having a little fun.”

“Fun?” he questioned. “You’re betting on your friend’s pain and misery! I don’t think she would classify this as fun.”

“She would if it was any one of us,” Eric pointed out.

“Only with you,” Donna chuckled. “She’s fine with the rest of us.” She looked up to Kelso who was mindlessly sucking on a popsicle. “Well, maybe Kelso too.”

He looked down at her, frowning, pausing with the popsicle still in his mouth. “Why me?”

“Because it’s so easy,” Fez added in, laughing. “Like you.”

---

“That’s it, I give up!” Y/n said, exasperated three days later as she and her husband sat in the basement. “I’m done trying to get these kids to come out. They’ll come when they come.”

“No, don’t give up yet,” Eric said, faux-sympathetic.

“You just want them to be born so you can go to the concert,” she grumbled.

Eric’s gaze flicked to the rest of the group; Hyde staring at him suspiciously.

“Y-you can keep trying…even if it takes you to Sunday,” he said.

“Or Monday!” Jackie piped up. “I think you’ll go into labor then.”

“Nah, I’m saying Tuesday,” Fez said.

Y/n squinted her eyes at her friends. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Fez squeaked.

“Uh huh, and I’m calling bologna,” she said, eyes never leaving Fez’s nervous ones.

“Nothing you’ll be interested in,” Jackie said.

“Yeah? Try me.”

Everyone was silent, not daring to speak up, until—

“We’ve all been making a bet to see when you’ll go into labor!” Fez blurted out.

“FEZ!” Everyone shouted.

“What the hell?!” Eric shouted.

“Unbelievable!” Donna cried out.

“Big mouth!” Jackie chimed in.

“Traitor!” Kelso added.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t lie to her!” Fez said.

“But you can bet money on me?!” Y/n shouted. “I can’t believe you guys!”

“Yeah! How could you do this and not let me in on it?!” Hyde shouted.

Y/n snapped her head to him. “WHAT?!”

“C’mon, we’re both so miserable here, at least let’s make some money out of it,” he defended.

“Oh, yeah I’m sure all that sex has helped ease the pain,” Fez grumbled bitterly.

“Shut up, Fez,” Hyde demanded, making Fez pout and turn away.

“You know the worst part is you guys didn’t include me on this,” Y/n continued.

“What?” the group asked in unison.

“Well, like Steven said, if I’m going to be miserable, I might as well make some money!”

“Hey, you’re cooler about this than I thought you would,” Markus said.

“If I wasn’t pregnant and desperate to get these kids out, I wouldn’t be,” she said. “Now, tell me, how high is the bet?”

“Forty,” he responded casually.

“Forty?!” Y/n screeched. “C’mon I’m worth more than that!”

“It’s all I’ve got in my purse,” Jackie responded bitterly. “Unless you have more money.”

“I know Hyde does,” Kelso smirked.

Hyde glared at him. “Drop it before I drop you.”

The Next Day…

“C’mon, babies, just stay in there until after tonight,” Eric encouraged, talking to his sister’s belly.

“You know that’s not how that works,” she responded, laughing at him.

“They can still hear right? Maybe they will listen.”

“Yeah, in your dreams, Forman,” Hyde said as he sat next to his wife on the couch.

“Come on, babies, if you wait to come out and let Daddy go to the concert with Uncle Eric, I promise I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Y/n couldn’t help but chuckle. “I don’t think they’re coming out anytime soon. You guys can go to the concert tonight, it’s fine.”

“YES!” Eric cheered.

“You sure?” Hyde asked genuinely and turned to her. “What if you go into labor while I’m gone?”

“I still have my parents here and Markus said he’ll be a phone call away if I need him,” she reassured him.

Hyde made a face at her. “I don’t know how I feel about this new guy helping you.”

“Would you rather it be Fez or Kelso?”

He smacked his lips in thought. “Good point.”

“Besides, I think it’ll be nice to just be me tonight,” she continued. “I can finally start that book I’ve wanting to read.”

“Vogue Magazine isn’t a book,” Eric reminded.

“Neither are comics,” she snapped back.

“Then why are they called comic books?” he shot back.

Y/n sighed. “Either way, I’m looking forward to finally getting some alone time.”

“As long you’re okay with it. And I won’t be out long,” Hyde promised.

“Okay,” Y/n said, smiling at him and kissed him. “I’m going to go take a nap. Wake me up before you leave.”

Hyde nodded as he helped her off the couch. Just as she did, she clutched her stomach, hissing sharply.

“Oh!” she yelped, bending over.

“Oh, my God! Y/n!” Hyde reacted quickly, reaching for her so she didn’t stumble forward.

“Y/n, are you okay?!” Eric asked her with wide eyes.

“Yeah, just kidding,” she giggled and walked upstairs.

The two young men let out a breath of relief and glared at her as she walked up the stairs.

“Sometimes, I really, really don’t like her,” Eric griped.

--Time Skip—

“Y/n, I’m leaving!” Steven said as he gathered his wallet, keys, and tickets together.

“I’m coming,” she called out as she waddled down the stairs.

He met her at the bottom of the stairs and placed his hands on her hips, leaning down to kiss her. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

“More than,” she said, grinning. “You go and have a great time, okay?”

“I will. I left the number for you on the counter to the venue in case anything happens.”

“Look at you, being all worried and responsible,” she teased.

He chuckled and kissed her gently. “I love you. I’m serious—call.”

“I will,” she said and hugged him. “I love you. Have fun.”

“Will you stop making out with my sister and get in the car?” Eric asked impatiently. “Led Zepplin isn’t going to wait for us.”

“Shut up, Forman,” Hyde said and turned to Y/n once more. “Try to not have those babies until I get back.”

“I will definitely try,” she replied sweetly before giving him one more kiss. “Now, go. Enjoy the concert. Oh! Wait there for a moment.” She ran back to the kitchen before returning to the front door with a camera in her hand. “Take some pictures for me.”

Hyde held the large polaroid camera in his hand and looked at his wife. “You want me to take pictures the whole time?”

She nodded innocently. “Yeah!”

“No,” he deadpanned and set the camera on the couch.

“What? Why?!”

“I’m going to be busy rocking and rolling, not taking pictures of the band.”

“Steven, please! Just because I can’t be there doesn’t mean I don’t want pictures!”

“Yeah, that’s a lot of pictures that I don’t want to take and have to keep track of. No, thanks.”

“Why’re you being so stubborn?”

“Hey, if you wanted to see Led Zepplin, you should be going,” Eric piped up from behind them.

“You literally bought tickets for everyone but me,” she snipped.

“Correction: I bought them for me, you, Hyde, and Donna. Kelso bought tickets for him and Hyde,”

“But…Jackie’s not going, what're you doing with that extra ticket?” Y/n inquired.

“Yeah…he thought he was going to be able to score with her, but then she met Markus and quite frankly, I think Kelso is afraid of him. So, he’s bringing Fez,” Eric answered.

“I’m not even going to question that,” she said and turned back to her husband. “You be careful and have fun. But not too much fun!”

“Alright, cool, let’s go!” Eric pushed and shoved Hyde out the door.

“What the hell, man?” Hyde asked outside the door.

“We still have to pick up Kelso and Fez and I’d rather not be later because you couldn’t stop being mushy with my sister,” Eric responded and closed the door before Y/n could hear what Hyde had to say.

Y/n looked down to her stomach and held it between her hands. “Well, guys, it looks like it’s just us. What do you guys want to do? We can watch TV, read a book…eat a tub of ice cream?” A kick to the stomach confirmed her question. “Ice cream it is!”

Later that night…

Y/n sat on the couch in the living room watching a rerun of Three’s Company when the doorbell rang. When she answered the door, Jackie and Markus stood there.

“What’re you guys doing here?” Y/n asked them.

“Well, we know you’re by yourself tonight so we figured you’d like some company,” Markus said with a bright smile and held up a Fatso Burger bag. “We also brought food.”

“Well, I wouldn’t put it that nicely, but yeah same,” Jackie said and welcomed herself in.

“Oh, uh, well thanks,” Y/n said and closed the door. “You guys don’t have to be here. My parents are home and if anything happens, they’ll be here.”

“Nonsense. We’re your friends,” Markus said and sat down on the couch. “Besides, we figured you were hungry.”

“Always,” Y/n said and waddled over to the couch. “This was really nice of you. Thank you.”

“Not a problem,” Markus said, smiling and handing her a wrapped burger. “What’re we watching?”

“Three’s Company. It’s the one where Chrissy takes a freelance job as an X-rated writer for a fictional diary,” Y/n responded, watching the screen.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Jackie said, digging into her fries.

After they had finished their meals and the episode ended, another one was starting soon as they all had settled back into the couch.

“No, no, no that’s ridiculous,” Markus argued. “Why would Doc Ock be Spider-Man’s greatest enemy? It’s always been Green Goblin!”

“The Green Goblin is Peter’s most famous enemy, but it makes sense that his greatest enemy is Doc Ock because think about it: Your mentor and friend turning bad? Can you imagine the betrayal?” Y/n countered.

“But Green Goblin was his best friend’s dad! That also has to mean something! Then, once his dad died, his best friend became the Green Goblin!”

“Yeah, that would mean something if Harry hadn’t tried to kill Peter first!”

“To be fair, Harry didn’t know about Spider-Man’s identity until later.”

“And to be fair, this conversation is killing me,” Jackie piped up, bored.

“Yeah, but—” Y/n was cut off by an abrupt sharp pain down in her lower abdomen. Her hands flew to her stomach and held her breath as the pain radiated and quickly subsided. She let out a sigh of relief.

Markus and Jackie sat up straight as Markus’s hands hovered over Y/n. “A-are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Y/n responded, breathlessly. “That was weird. Anyway, as I was saying—OH!”

Another sharp pain reared its ugly head, radiating through her pelvis to her back and down her legs. “Oh, my God!” Her grip on the couch tightened, knuckles turning white. She could feel her abdomen tighten rock-hard as she felt the pain become more intense.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” Jackie asked.

Y/n couldn’t respond and could only whimper.

“Oh, my God,” Markus said, panicking and jumped from the couch. “Oh, my God! Not now!”

All Y/n could do was shake her head as the pain was starting to subside to the point where she could get some words out. “No, no, it can’t be. It can take a while for the babies to get here. It could just be the beginning stages.”

“The beginning stages of what?” Jackie asked.

Markus looked at her with a panicked and wild look in his eyes. “Are you serious?!”

“What?!” she asked, matching his energy.

“She’s in labor, Jackie!”

“Oh,” Jackie said calmly, but then it hit her. “OH!”

“We need to get you to the hospital,” Markus said, rushing to get her up from the couch.

“That’s not necessary,” Y/n said, another sharp pressure coming on as she stood. “The book said contractions need to be five to ten minutes apart before going to the hospital. Labor can take a while.”

Markus sighed a small breath of relief before looking down and his eyes widening. “And what does the book say about that?”

Y/n looked down on the floor at her feet as she felt some wetness.

Her water had broke.

Taglist: @not-shy-nanya @taysirene @maddieschampagneproblems @mdittyz123 @undead-sierra @random-thoughts-004 @lieswithoutfairytales @chloem4a1 @srhxpc @zhonglibxitch @leothesquishy

#that 70s show #steven hyde #that 70's show fanfic #steven hyde x reader #eric forman #donna pinciotti #jackie burkhart #that '70s show #red forman #kitty forman #friends quotes #rachel green #source: friends

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https-furina · 11 months ago

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"your order is complete!" this order is for @nervocat:

"Thought I'd put in something for your event hehe :33 What about Neuvillette with a small latte and foam? I'm curious to see what you come up with.. 👀 (Sorry if I did anything wrong.. this is actually my first request for anyone 😭😭. I'll also probably read this when I'm back if you're done with it by then, but take your time!!)"

neuvillette + gn!reader | platonic, modern!au | 1.1k words notes. uuuuu nervo... this man would give the best hugs convince me otherwise... this is actually the second time i’ve ever wrote for him <3

thirsty? see our café menu before you order! | order receipts

throughout your whole life, there has always been only one man by your side. you never seemed to have any qualms with each other, fitting together like slotted puzzle pieces and sometimes your friendship even stood against the tides that was your families bombarding you with "you'd look so good together!" that you would both simply groan and roll your eyes in response to; his older sister furina was exceptionally good at bring this up every time you came over for dinner when you was kids.

as you grew older however the two of you grew in distance, finally entering that adult world you dreamt so much about when you hid together in forts made of blankets and pillows, snacking on your stash of sugar. neuvillette got into law school, making him much busier than you and you'd opted for art school, much more interested in the creation of theatrical props and stages. going to two completely different schools put a halt on how much time you could spend with each other.

it's the middle of winter and finally your schedules have cleared up enough to allow you both to meet under the roof of a local café, the large glass windows slightly steamed due to the temperature difference outside but the warm, golden lights creating the most comforting environment that you would never need to gaze beyond what is around you. the smell of coffee and freshly baked treats is strong and slightly overpowering but nonetheless a welcoming difference from the paints and glue you suffered with daily.

you've always claimed you wasn't heavily attached to your childhood best friend but the moment your eyes catch sight of the tall male entering the building, his long silvery hair tied back in a loose ponytail because it gets in his way - but heaven forbid you suggest he cuts it - and a pair of slim glasses perched on his nose, you raise to your feet so quick you go dizzy for a few seconds. the static wears off to reveal him stood before you, undoing the buttons of his trench coat and unwrapping that familiar scarf from around his neck; ah yes, it's the one you brought him last christmas.

his violet eyes glance at you, a pleasant smile decorating his pale face as he hangs his coat on the back of his chair before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into the fluff of his sweater. he's warm, dressed appropriately for the weather as always and you relax under his touch, your arms looped around his waist and you rest your head against his chest. this hug was very much overdue and with the stress of exams, it's exactly what you both needed.

"have you ordered yet?" his deep voice rumbles suddenly over the sounds of cups clinking and idle chatter. you shake your head in response, reluctantly pulling away from the broad-shouldered male and he lets out a content hum, pulling his wallet out of his coat pocket, "what do you want? my treat today."

a slither of a smile creeps onto your face as you settle back into your chair, unwilling to argue against the male as you tell him your preferred order. there's a mild grin on his face, your order hasn't changed at all since you were younger and you almost wish you could retort sarcastically but he says nothing, leaving to go to the counter. part of you feels willed to follow him, unhappy with the concept of him paying but you knew just how stubborn neuvillette could be, a small sigh escaping your lips as you take the moment to admire the dark oak aesthetic inside the café.

neuvillette returns shortly after holding a tray in his black leather gloved hands, placing it on the table as you flash him a thankful smile. he settles opposite you, unstrapping his aforementioned gloves as you focus on your drink, taking a sip of it happily and closing your eyes for a split second.

"how's law school been treating you?" you find yourself asking him the dreaded question first, your eyes watching how his minorly calloused hands open his bottle of water and you can't help but think he really hasn't changed a bit since you were kids, always much preferring water to any other drink people tried to shove his way. neuvillette almost groans, raising the bottle to his lips as he takes a small sip.

"i have so much material to revise at all times, this is the first time i've been out of my accommodation in a while," he admits with a taut frown pulled onto his face. he was always one to prefer the outdoors, granted the weather had to be nice, "and it is as ever dull outside as some of my lecturers are to listen to."

you can't help but laugh at his words, picturing just how boring law professors must be. perhaps you would fall asleep if you had to listen to their drawl but neuvillette was extremely academic so you imagine that despite this complaint of his, he listens intently in every class just like he did in high school. you have faith he'll pass law school with flying colours.

"what about art school?" it's his turn to ask about your academics, tilting his head in curiosity as he looks over at you and you wonder if this setting seems a little too formal for you both, "i've seen some of your works on instagram."

"the local high school's drama class is doing romeo and juliet for their annual play and they've hired us to design the set. we're being graded on it but people in my class keep re-enacting scenes whenever we finish a prop." you groan, resting your chin in your hand as you attempt to look outside through the window to your left, it's still fogged up but it was an attempt nonetheless. neuvillette lets out a deep chuckle.

"think of it as quality control," he comments playfully with a small smile etched onto his otherwise sincere face, it draws a smile onto your face too at your best friend's words, "they're just checking the authenticity of your works before they're used for the real thing."

despite months of not seeing each other after years of being inseparable, everything seems just the way the pair of you had left it, leaving you content and fuzzy inside at finally being able to spend time together again. even though the two of you have definitely matured a little, those two toddlers cuddled up and sharing a beanbag in the library are still very much present and as the stress of exams, revision and all nighters designing stage sets wash away, you both come to realise just how much you needed to see each other again.

#⌞a café on the sea front !!⌝#( sealed letters )#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#neuvillette #neuvillette fluff #neuvillette x reader #genshin #genshin impact #genshin fluff #(love adding tags for reach oof)#genshin platonic #neuvillette fanfic

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ghostssimp · 1 year ago

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Can’t Kill A Ghost

Ugh, this sucks, but I'll leave it here. My motivation to write is at zero. There's none of it. Also I'm thinking about writing for other fandoms too, so I can take a little break from COD, because I have no motivation for it.

The mission you went on, got south, so you and Ghost had to run. Terrorists got the information of the two of you being there and you barely got your heads out. You got shot in your shoulder in the action. The two of you got to the nearest safehouse, which was an hour and a half distant away. Good thing Ghost found a motorbike and the two of you rushed away. The pain in your shoulder didn’t help, but you had to hold onto the muscular man, to be close to him as you escaped.

Soon, the two of you reached the safe house. It took a good 40 minutes, but you managed it. When Ghost got off the motorbike, his eyes met yours in a hint of worry. The pain in your shoulder made you feel weak as adrenaline wore out and you felt the pain more and more flowing through you.

He helped you down and, to your surprise, he took you in his arms. Here's the deal, you like your Lieutenant, you like him a lot and moments like this are fatal to you, because you think that there are just seconds away for you to blow up. There were a few times that he looked at you he showed something to you, a little feeling in his eyes that wanted to betray him and show emotion, but he always found an excuse and turned away. You're glad for that. You can't bond. You're not allowed. You can't lose anyone else in your life.

Ghost put you down on a couch and rushed to find first aid. You grimace at the pain and lean a little on your good shoulder. "You know Lt., I can walk. I'm shot in my shoulder, not my leg." He walked back getting everything he needed. "Shut up and take your shirt off." His eyes looked at the wound. "Don't. You can't lift up your arm. I'll cut the fabric." You look at him through your lashes.

"And what will I wear around?" He grumbles under his breath something that you didn't catch and already rips the shirt from your sleeve to your shoulder with, scissors.

"You'll walk around naked." His eyes didn't even look up at you, but were fixed on your wound. The good thing is that, because you didn't know how to react. There were a few minutes of silence as he started to patch you up and you hissed when he put alcohol on your wound.

"I don't think that's appropriate, Lieutenant." He was silent for some time. His breathing was steady and deep, making you concentrate on it instead of the pain and the needle that is now going through your skin.

He finished and started to bandage you up. "Why do you never call me Ghost?" It took you by surprise, and you flinched at the question. "I uh, I'm keeping it professional." Lame excuse.

"Banshee, give me a proper answer." You glance at him. "Well, this is also a proper one." Your heart is beating. You never called him Ghost. You know his name is Simon Riley. You never said it out loud. It was always Lieutenant or Sir. He was finished and, finally, the two of you locked your eyes. "Thank you Sir." He's staring down at you. He leans over to you, just inches from your ear.

"Banshee. Y/N. Say my name, just once. I want to hear it." Your breath hitched. You've never seen him like this. You've never heard him talk like this. You didn't know how to react.

"I just... I can't sir."

"Tell me why then."

You pull back to look at him. His eyes looked ready for anything that you would say to him. It is full of emotions that you can't read. His hands dipped the couch beneath you as you sat between them. He dominated over you. It made you want to tell him everything. For a second there, you were hesitating.

"Soap is always bugging me. Why did I get called Banshee? Banshee is a mythological being that brings death. Lt. It screams and you know that death is coming. Everytime in my lifetime I sad the nane of a loved one person, they end up dead. I bring death anywhere I go, I am fucking death." His eyes shifted over you. You felt your heart pounding faster with each second you were this close to him.

I died a long time ago, baby. Say my name." his hand found place on your tight, gripping it and giving it a squeeze. Your stomach flipped and heat started to wash over you. His fingers sneaked around and found a way in your trousers. They pushed away panties and he dipped in.

"Say it. Y/N. Say it." a moan escaped your lips as he worked you over. "I can't sir."

He stopped and leaned over your ear, his mask touching your cheek as his raspy voice ringed over.

"You can't kill a ghost."

#call of duty #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost x you #modern warfare imagine #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you

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cellarspider · 8 months ago

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26/30 PIE to the face

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

We return to a movie that is going to linguistically hurt me again, Prometheus. You get to read a ramble about PIE. You’re welcome.

Content warning for MORE OF ME. I cannot be stopped.

So. Imagine you have found a sleeping alien. You believe that they were on a mission to destroy humanity as a disappointment. What do you do? Not waking them up is certainly an option. But what if you do? You’re going to want to not disappoint them.

One could, for example, study the records still maintained within the alien ship. Learn about their culture. Get more than one guy to learn their language, particularly since this translator you’ve got seems to be a little gung-ho on things like “seeing [his] parents dead.” That’s a bit of a warning sign.

And hey, something horrible happened on this ship, probably right before or right after this alien was put into hibernation. There’s a lot of dead bodies on the ship. Having a trauma counselor or three there would be a good call. People trained in de-escalation, definitely. Give you a chance to talk the alien down, and help them process stuff in what’s hopefully a culturally appropriate manner, given your xenological research before waking them up.

You’ll probably want to make sure to take the “kill humanity” button away from them too, that would be a good idea. And, preferably, not have exploded the head of one of their colleagues.

Am I describing a process that would take years? Yes. It should. This is the most important thing humanity’s ever done.

It’s been two days since the Prometheus landed.

As stated before, my faith in fictional humanity was not high in this scene.

David wakes the Engineer up. Rather than any of the measures I described above, the Engineer is met with David, Weyland, some security guys, Doctor Franenstein the head-exploder, and Shaw.

It took most of the humans a good hour or so to stop looking like death after waking up after a two year nap, and this Engineer’s been under for a thousand times longer. The poor bugger is visibly hung over and feeling sick, almost falling over on Weyland.

Shaw starts demanding David ask where they’re from, what’s in the ship’s cargo, why was it made for humans, all in English as Weyland tries to talk over her. They are speaking a language that only took its modern form 1600 years after the last events on this ship took place. The Engineer has zero clue what anyone’s saying.

The Engineer remains silent, and visibly disturbed by how Wayland orders his security guy to hit Shaw, which just makes the still unintelligible questions louder and less coherent.

And then David starts speaking to them.

There was a short dialog between them filmed, but in the final cut, the Engineer doesn’t speak at all.

The final cut also removes Weyland’s pitch for why he should have immortality–he created life in David. David is something more perfect than human. Therefore Weyland is a god, and gods never die.

This is, as you can imagine, not convincing. It would’ve made Weyland slightly more explicable as a character, but the movie hasn’t even done that for its lead, so of course it doesn’t for Old Man Capitalism.

In the full release, David only says a few sentences. To quote Anil Biltoo, who wrote the translation:

The line that David speaks to the Engineer (which is from a longer sequence that didn’t make the final edit) is as follows: /ida hmanəm aɪ kja namṛtuh zdɛ:taha/…/ghʷɪvah-pjorn-ɪttham sas da:tṛ kredah/ A serviceable translation into English is: ‘This man is here because he does not want to die. He believes you can give him more life’.

This is–okay. In the theater, I did not know precisely what this language was. But I was making a fair imitation of the Engineer's expression in response to this, because I was pretty sure it was PIE.

Proto-Indo-European, that is. A massive swath of world languages are all traceable back to one source, though we have no records of it. Linguistic reconstruction of how they evolved from earlier roots allows us to infer a language that must have existed, and we call that the Proto-Indo-European language. PIE for short. And this is a big ol’ slice of PIE right here.

And I had a whole thing in early drafts of this post. I’d convinced myself over the years that my inexperience with PIE had led me astray in the theater. I’d convinced myself this was a PIE conlang. Meaning, I thought this was a language created for this movie that sounds like a cousin to PIE. That’s still howlingly weird, for reasons I’ll get into. But then I saw this featurette:

youtube

[Video description: A behind the scenes featurette for Prometheus entitled “Language Of The Gods”. It interviews Anil Biltoo on his work for the movie, in which he explains the concept of a proto-language, of PIE in specific, and what he did for the movie.]

It’s PIE. It’s a different reconstruction of PIE than the current standard, but it’s PIE.

And I feel vindicated, because that’s what I heard in the theater. David opened his mouth and out came PIE.

I can actually read a few words in the excerpt. I could hear them in the theater. The word /hmanəm/ is clearly meant to be a root word of “man”, which standard reconstructions indicate is the descendent of PIE *ǵʰmṓ. /Namṛtuh/ is very clearly from PIE *ne-mért, “not-die”, because anything that looks like “mort” in an indo-european language probably has something to do with death. And “/kredah/” is close to PIE *ḱréddʰh₁eti, hence Latin “crēdit”, hence modern italian “créde”, “he believes”.

PIE is just like that, sometimes. Some roots are unrecognizable, others are instantly identifiable. I’ll include my attempt at a gloss (a brief technical explanation of the meaning and grammar) at the end of the post.

The implication is that the Engineers taught their language to humans. That was Proto-Indo-European, which then spread from there. I almost started laughing in the theater at this.

In the real world, we know a few things about where PIE came from. PIE was probably spoken by people north of the Black Sea, at least five thousand years ago. This guy who’s just woken up with a hibernation hangover went to sleep three thousand years after that.

But, y’know what? Fine. Let’s say it’s a liturgical language. David’s done the equivalent of walking up to somebody and speaking to them in church Latin. Weird, but not impossible that it could be understood. Or maybe they’re just so damn long-lived and linguistically conservative that it’s more like talking to somebody in an old-timey news broadcaster voice. Still weird! But comprehensible.

But you know what we can’t possibly link back to PIE? Egyptian, Sumerian, Akkadian, Hawaiian, or the Mayan languages, most of the other ancient cultures the movie says the Engineers definitely contacted. Did all those come from the same ur-language? We don’t know. We can’t know, because our reconstruction methods are ineffective past a certain point. But if they did, then their root language had to have existed before the Bering Strait closed off the Americas from Asia, making any common ancestor at least twice as old as PIE. The movie’s implication is that it was PIE. The language of the gods is PIE. PIEngineer.

Apparently everybody who the Engineers talked to just forgot the language of the gods, save for the linguistic descendants of some nomads on the Black Sea Steppe.

And that’s before we get into the worse implications. We can’t tie East Asian languages back to PIE. Austronesian languages. American languages. African languages. Were these people just not contacted by the Engineers? Did they forget? Did they refuse to listen?

None of these are good answers! None! They’re all bad!

In Anil Biltoo’s defense, he’s an academic linguist, and, to my knowledge, not one who’s a conlanger. Ridley Scott specifically wanted to work in the oldest possible human language, and Biltoo delivered on that, based on modern scholarship. He did not make an alien language that evolved into a human language. If Scott had wanted that, David and Jesse Peterson would probably go feral for the project, but they weren’t asked. What would be the most naturalistic thing to do, if you wanted to get across the idea that humans inherited language from the Engineers?

You make a Proto-Human language. People have tried before, and others have argued their attempts are bullshit. This is one of those times that Wikipedia has a “the neutrality of this article is disputed” flag at the top of the page, because there are nerd fights everywhere on this. We don’t even know if a Proto-Human language ever existed–there could have been multiple independent origins of language–but if you’re writing fiction, sure, Proto-Human exists.

Come up with a vocabulary and grammar that could work for Proto-Human, have David speak it to the Engineer, it sounds alien to everybody, nobody gets to be the special children of the gods, and no linguistics dork in the audience will laugh at you.

They will definitely laugh at what happens next, though.

But the post is not done! Bonus linguistic nerdery below, including a sample of my constructed language and its script.

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Citations for alt-text rambles:

https://moomin.fandom.com/wiki/Stinky

https://www.deviantart.com/pretty--kittie/art/Prometheus-Engineer-407327934

https://www.uni-wuerzburg.de/en/news-and-events/news/detail/news/new-indo-european-language-discovered/

Edit: additional citations!

Movies in 15 Minutes review of Prometheus by @cleolinda, as retrieved from the Internet Archive. Hat tip to @kantama for identifying it!: https://web.archive.org/web/20120726203957/http://m15m.livejournal.com/23209.html

PIEngineer gloss

Alright, for the language nerds in the audience, I’ve put together a potential gloss, entirely based off of PIE roots available on Wiktionary and a shaky understanding of PIE verb construction:

/ida hmanəm aɪ kja namṛtuh zdɛ:taha/…/ghʷɪvah-pjorn-ɪttham sas da:tṛ kredah/ this.[singular neuter??] man.NOM [anaphoric demonstrative].1.NOM.MASC here not-die EMPHATIC/towards.3MASC.PRES(?)…life-many-[resultative or inchoative verb suffix? adjective of possession, accusative singular?] [genitive singular reflexive?] give.[middle 3S] believe.[stative(?) 3S] A more literal translation would therefore be “This man here does not (want to) approach death…he believes he (can be) given more life-having to himself.”

I am not good at figuring out suffix affixation for PIE verbs, so I probably missed or misinterpreted a few in there. I’m not sure how to break down /zdɛ:taha/ in particular, and /sas/ is a bit mysterious to me. Biltoo definitely created his own PIE reconstruction for this. Vowels are all shifted (ex *éy -> /aɪ/), there’s more palatal consonants (*ḱi-Ø -> /kja/, *polh₁-r̥-m -> pjorn), and other sound shifts I’m too scatterbrained to categorize right now.

PIEngineer to Tade Taadži translation

Alright. I previously mentioned that I have a conlang. I have yet to mention that it is distantly related to Prometheus, powered by the spiteful creative energy this movie engendered in me.

So it’s only fair I translate this passage into my language, write it in my script, and give a thorough gloss.

Jàà odormàà, hu sàà id aannãgu … midadjã kii jur kaas ʻus mogeso. /jɐː odoɾmɐː hu sɐː id aːnːãgu/ / … /midadjã kiː juɾ̥ kaːs ʔus mogeso/ This.VOC not-native-person.ALL, death.INST not go.ATTR want.PRES. Forever.NOM give this.ALL 2S.VOC ACC 3S.NEAR.ponder.PRES.3P.FAR.ACC

Translation notes:

I am assuming David is speaking formally, clearly, and respectfully in this translation, even if one of the people he’s being respectful about is Weyland. Both Weyland and the Engineer are thus addressed using the Vocative case when first directly mentioned.

Due to the formality of the speech, formal style glyphs are also used: these require significant planning ahead of time, to identify ligatures, aesthetic considerations, and, ideally, to select a total number of words that works out to a multiple of six, as this is culturally the ideal number for a line of text.

Formal ligatures can cross glyph boundaries, and are read every time you encounter part of them in the left-to-right, top-to-bottom reading order. The most common ligatures are between grammatical markers, as in this text, but can extend to whole glyphs or even individual components of them. If one is feeling particularly artistic, aesthetic ligatures may also be joined between thematically similar glyphs.

Gendered pronouns are not used in this context. Politeness dictates that any third person pronouns be replaced with the equivalent of “this” or “that”, unless given express permission to use more informal terms of address. This is especially true when referring to non-native speakers, as they do not have an equivalent social role to the five (yes, five) genders of Taadži culture.

The word for “non-native person” used to indicate Weyland literally means “thing that has a spirit”.

Following my shaky PIEngineer gloss, I tweaked the verb in the first sentence: “to die” would normally be “hur hybà” (lit. “to stand at death”), but this has been changed to “hu iddà”, “go to death”, indicating that Weyland fears even getting near the idea.

The word for “forever”, “midadjã”, is derived from the word for 6^6, or 46,656. Tade Taadži uses a base six number system, because I felt like taking Jan Misali up on his heximal advocacy.

The normal word order for the language is SVO, but in dependent clauses it becomes OVS, just to make things harder for everyone, including me, who muttered “ah fuck” when I had to check my notes to remember where to put an allative and vocative in there. It’s after the verb, apparently.

The language has verbal person marking in some contexts, and I deliberately bent the second sentence into a more poetic mode so that I could show it off while retaining formal speech, referring to Weyland’s belief as if it’s a person. The glyphs ligate the person marker to the tense marker, Both to save space and for aesthetic purposes.

I had no word for “believe” when I started writing this sentence, so I grabbed a verb already associated with thinking during unmoving meditation to stand in for it, to get across the idea that “this is something he has thought about a lot”.

It’s a shame David’s being polite, because while I didn’t have a word for “believe”, I do have a word for “to believe despite evidence to the contrary”.

Bonus citations:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daemon_(computing)

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#Prometheus 2012 #Prometheus (2012)#LANGUAGE TIME LANGUAGE TIME #also an abundance of Engineer screenshots #because I have a type and it is “hairless inhuman and affronted by the rudeness of their alarm clock”#also “doomed by the narrative” because no one in movies save for Guillermo del Toro agrees with me

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