#but maybe less of the push back style i do now?

[clemelntine]

The sauna scene is so important to me cuz I feel like it shows so much.

In public (like the market or on the track) Fadel let's Style do his thing because going against him as aggressively as he might wish would blow his and Bisons cover, he needs to keep a low profile and although Style is ruining that, going against Style would ruin it even more.

He stopped himself from killing Style in the diner that night because a body is too difficult to deal with. A murder scene in their own lil diner is not something normal and would attract way too much attention (and cops). He also only let him in to drink in the first place cuz he didn't know just the fuckery Style was capable of. Fadel probably thought giving him what he wanted would make him leave peacefully, but when Style started flirting he realized this man is more then just an annoying customer.

In the sauna however Fadel has no reason to let Style do what he wants. They were alone and a simple push would have stopped him. A single hit on the head would have knocked him out (people pass out in saunas all the time, he just couldn't handle the heat). But fadel just let Style do what he wanted

There are plenty of times when Fadel was in a almost victim like place, unable to act and defend due to the situation he is in (thank you to this lovely post by Ropebuddykant , for bringing to my attention that both Bison and Fadel are in quite peculiar situations as assasins that doesn't allow them the freedom Kant and Style have)

So even though the sauna scene was the moment Fadel could have taken to finally say his piece, to stop Style, he didn't because no matter how weird his technique is Styles flirting was working on fadel. (Or he just found him attractive, pure bodily attraction)

Because the flirting in this scene was different. The slow sensual style threw Fadel a little of guard, but he clearly didn't hate it. Style even showed interest in his burgerplace and showed that he cared by mentioning the meaning of Fadels name.

Something had changed within Style to suddenly go from being annoying to defend his bruised honor and purposefully put Fadel compromising situations to this flirty and grinning mess to this clearly intentional courting.

Secriden made a post about how earnest the conversation Style and Bison had was and that after this conversation, Style seemed more interesting in what would make Fadel appealing as a romantic partner.

The sauna scene was such a schifting point for both of them and we see that after it Style gets more bold in the lockerroom (and overstepping the line, by kissing an unnwilling man no less then three times). He seems to actually make moves to shift them in a romantic direction. Even professing his love at first sight. Whether it was true or not, it sent a message to Fadel that he wants more than the cat and mouse game they've got going.

The effect the sauna had on Fadel isn't very hard to see. First, he puts up his guard in suspicion. His assasins paranoia prevents him from trusting or believing anyone, and maybe he also still feels a little made fun of by Style, like Style only sees it as some game. But then, in the locker he confirms that that isn't it (or not for the most part at least). And that (together with just how attractive Style is) switches something in Fadels brain, making him look back on the sauna as a good and sexy experience. And I'm sure we remember how that ended.

So I'm very curious how their relationship is gonna build in the next episode, since they seem to have gone over a certain threshold where they are now both interested in each other. With the teaser stuff for the next episode (fadel dancing), it also looks like this is the point where their relationship starts taking more after 10 things I hate about you

[dementedspeedster]

//I think I'm going to start trying to draw Thad's hair like Billy Zabka's when he was young. (8th gif here in particular).

Thoughts? Yes? No?

[swordsandholly]

Double Date - Double Down

NSFW | MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!plus size!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.

A/N: Just a fun little oneshot I used as a warmup between working on chapters of future multi chapter projects.

“I said *no*.” You snap, angrily folding the washcloth in your hands.

Your friend splutters from the other side of the phone, the desperation in her voice only growing now that she’s on her fourth ask. “*Pleeeaase*! Steph backed out last minute and no one else is free-“

“How do you know I’m free?”

“You just said you were!”

You huff. She’s got you there. When she first called, you admitted you didn’t have anything going on but that was *before* she told you the plan for the night. Before she mentioned that her very, very conventionally hot military boyfriend wanted to do a little double date with his friend and one of hers. Plus, you take a least a little offense to being second choice. Really, last choice, it seems.

“Cass, you can’t just set up a blind date and take your fat friend. That’s not-“

“You’re not fat, love. You’re beautiful.” Her words drip with turned honey. You make a gagging face to yourself in the mirror. “You just need more confidence!”

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could try, for the millionth time, to explain to her the nuanced ins and outs of dating as a fat woman. The rules and stats that could rival even the most complex rpg… or you could be petty. It takes less time to be petty. “If I go, you’re paying for my drinks.”

“Johnny’s friend will probably-“

“Yeah, and when he leaves you’re paying for my tab.”

“He won’t-“

“We got a deal?”

She clicks her tongue. “*Fiiiine*.”

At least you can get wasted for free either way. A small consolation. She texts you the time and location, barely leaving you with enough time to shower and turn yourself into something presentable. Not that you really care. It’s going to be shit either way, most likely. Staring yourself down in the mirror, you suppose you could at least try to look somewhat attractive. If you’re about to get rejected (or possibly shouted at, you’ll never forget *that* horrendous interaction) you might as well feel your best.

The pub is small as you push through the front door. Casual. A couple pool tables, some darts, a large bar and few booths with stools on the outer side. You scan the room, searching for Cass’s familiar face.

“Over here!” Cass waves with a wide arc at you, a grin plastered from ear to ear. At least she’s having fun.

You take a long breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to happen. Cass introduces you to her boyfriend - who is somehow even hotter in person. You can see why she’s so smitten with him. Johnny looks you up and down as he shakes your hand. He doesn’t comment, or make a face, or really react in any particular way, but you can feel a shift. Something in his eyes…

Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’ve always been a little over sensitive.

“Si will be back in a sec. Stepped over tae get a drink.” He flashes a grin.

You hum, quietly folding your hand as Cass pushes a cocktail for you that she preemptively ordered. Criticize her as much as you like, she knows her mixes.

“There he is.” Johnny grins, turning slightly.

You follow his gaze, heart sinking as your eyes settle on the man approaching your table. He’s massive. Tall and wide. Total brick shithouse. His face is mostly covered by a black surgical mask. A few years ago you might have questioned it but at this point you couldn’t care less, especially when his dark eyes meet yours, small flecks of gold honey catching the low bar lights. Barely styled tufts of blonde hair stick up from his head. They look like they might curl if he let it grow a little longer.

All in all, wayyyy out of your league.

He settles into his seat with all the confidence of any military man - back ramrod straight. He extends a large hand. “Simon Riley.”

You murmur your name, somewhat enthralled by the half lidded, almost bored look in his eyes. Now that he’s closer you notice a large scar splitting his left eyebrow and light, newly forming crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

“S-so you’re military, too?” You stutter, eyes trained on his the massive hand holding his glass. It’s nicely vascular, his nails are well groomed but it also looks like he could snap you in half with it.

Not that that’s entirely a bad thing - whatever that may or may not say about you.

He nods. “I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Oh! Officer position. So you’re smart, then?” You try to be charming, to give him a sweet smile and keep your body language open.

“Enough.” He deadpans. It takes a few beats for you to realize he’s not going to say anything else.

“Uh…” You squirm awkwardly under his gaze. It’s intense - his dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the bar. “I do hair.”

Conversation is slow, to say the least. The longest answer he gives you is maybe five words. He only flips up the mask long enough to take a sip of his drink every so often. You start to talk less, opting toward a group conversation in which Johnny takes the lead, which he is obviously very good at. He regales you and Cass with a few stories of his and Simon’s adventures. Some funny, some brave, some worrying. He’s setting the man up to be a god, nearly, but Simon himself just shakes his head and insists Johnny is exaggerating.

You wonder what he sees in Simon. Alternatively, you wonder what *you’re* supposed to see in Simon. Besides his good looks, of course. He’s… bland. Obviously bored if his constant glances toward the exits and rhythmic, occasional tapping on the corner of the table are anything to go by.

“Want tae go dance, lovie?” You overhear Johnny as he leans in toward Cass.

She glances at you, then Simon, then back to you before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll give you two some time *alone*.”

In any other situation, you’d probably beg her to stay in desperation for a conversation buffer. Here and now, though, you’re grateful. You can finally let this poor guy off the hook. You wait until they’re gone; fully out of earshot before turning to the man in front of you.

“I…uh… look…” You chew your lip, glancing between him and your folded hands on the table. “Sorry… I know I’m probably not what, uh, what you expected… I get it if you want to leave. It’s - you don’t have to stay, or whatever. Don’t have to be polite…”

He cocks an eyebrow, eyes boring through your skull. “Why would I want to leave?”

“I know what I look like. You don’t have to be nice.”

His raised brow turns into a slight frown. “I think you’re quite pretty.”

You scoff - blushing despite yourself. “Again, you don’t have to be nice.”

“Do I seem like the type to just be nice?”

You continue to gnaw at your lip. He’s got you there. Simon definietly doesn’t come off as the type to bow to polite society. “You’ve barely talked to me.”

He stares for a moment. It’s his turn to avert his eyes, swirling around the whiskey in his glass awkwardly. Almost bashfully. “It’s not you. I’m… not great in public… especially in crowds…”

Oh.

*Oh*.

You’ve completely misjudged him, haven’t you? Shit. He’s just a big awkward lug isn’t he?You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Oh God, *I’m* the asshole, aren’t I?”

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I’m sorry it’s just…” you scrub a hand over your face. “Most men don’t really want to be surprised with a fat girl on a blind date. Guess I assumed the worst.”

Simon hums. A low vibration that settles into your bones. He gets up, sliding into the booth side of the table beside you - his massive frame pushing into your space. He smells like spices. Cinnamon and pepper. A little hint of leather and tobacco underneath. It’s heady, and some primal part of your mind wishes you could roll around in it like a dog.

“Some men might like a waifish little thing, that’s their business, but personally…” He leans in, a large hand resting on your wide thigh. “Yeah. I like somethin’ I can get a proper handful of.”

“*Oh*.” You squeak, back stiff. Was that what you saw in Johnny’s face before? Approval?

“‘Ere’s a thought - we go back to mine. S’quiet. Can talk more freely. See where the night goes, hm?”

You smile hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It’s honest. Kind. Dark pools of sincerity. It’s against your better judgement. Impractical. Out of character. Even so, you allow yourself to surrender with a warmth in your cheeks and a small nod.

“I’ll get an Uber.” He pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Five minutes out.”

“Want to wait outside?” You offer, nodding toward the front entrance. Simon just nods, following you out close behind. Neither of you say much of anything while you wait, but you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He taps on his leg a few times in much the same way as he did on the table.

He dutifully opens the car door for you, letting you slide in before climbing in beside you, long legs slightly cramped in the small sedan.

“You don’t live on base?” You ask as the Uber drives away from the infamous military housing. You’d been there once or twice - a while ago when you were younger and messier.

“S’too loud.” He shrugs. “Too crowded.”

“Well, at least you’re consistent.” You smile.

Simon hums, resting his hand on your thigh once again. It’s casual, not too high up or too much pressure. Not presumptuous.

“How’d Johnny get you out there in the first place? If you’re so *averse*.” You tilt your head.

He shrugs, “Was supposed to be another Sergeant we work with but I guess he cancelled. No one else was free.”

“Ah, so we’re both last choices, then.”

“Yeah?”

“Made Cass promise me free drinks if I came.”

“Smart girl.” He chuckles, holding out a hand to help you up out of the car upon your arrival. His hand is warm when you take it, and a small part of you feels disappointed when he lets go.

The building is small. Old. All red brick with a thirty year old intercom and an elevator that you’re pretty sure hasn’t been inspected since the place was built. About halfway down the hall, you start to second guess yourself. You don’t know a thing about this guy - you don’t know what’s going to happen as soon as you get on the other side of his door. His weird, bright red door. Wait - why is this whole floor covered in red doors?

“Alright?” He grunts, back turned to you as he wrestles with the lock.

“Uh - why is your floor color themed?”

Simon laughs, wide shoulders shaking with the movement. It’s a low sound, something that vibrates in his chest. Makes you want to press your ear to it, see how it feels. If it will reverberate into your bones as well. “The old lady that owns the building is a bit… unique. Likes to talk about colors and karma and destiny stuff.”

“Ah.” You nod, as if that makes any sense at all. “So you’re red?”

“Apparently.”

His apartment is actually quite homey, as you step into it. From a stiff military man like him you expected something akin to an ikea floor model. Instead it’s furnished with a well worn, green couch. A large TV with an extremely up-to date surround sound system and an entertainment center filled to the brim with CDs sits against the wall. A few movie posters fill the walls. All horror classics - you count three of the scream movies. The first two final destination. There are condensation rings on the coffee table.

Behind you, you hear the door lock and unlock three times, but you don’t pay it much mind.

“Want a drink?” Simon asks, already popping open a decanter full of something gold on a small drink cart beside the kitchen island.

“Sure.” The agreement is automatic - blurted out before you can second guess taking a drink from a total stranger.

You watch a little too closely as he takes off his light jacket, exposing his strong arms and a half sleeve tattoo. It’s a bit tacky, all skulls and military symbols. The black ink has been sun worn over time. The motif of a young getting his first tattoo after enlisting. He settles down on the couch with the decanter and two glasses, patting the spot beside him. You plop down. It’s pretty comfortable, honestly.

His fingers loop into the mask’s straps. You find yourself watching with wide eyes and bated breath as he removes it. His nose is crooked - broken more than a couple times, you think. There’s a scar running from his nose to upper lip that could only come from a cleft palette. It’s charming, in a way. When he turns toward you, you notice a patch on the side of his face that looks like a rather large burn all the way down to his sharp jaw. The roughness of him works, somehow. The scars and tattoos and choppy hair all coming together to create the visage of a life hard lived.

“You’re really pretty…” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

Simon splutters out a laugh, the slightest hint of color appearing across his cheeks. “Didn’t take you for a flatterer.”

“I’m not.” You huff before nodding toward the posters. “Horror fan?”

He hums, passing you a glass. “Are you a fan? Of horror, I mean.”

“Found footage!” You grin a little too excited. “It’s the best genre.”

“Terrible taste.” He scoffs.

“Wrong! Found footage can be anything you want it to be - slasher, thriller, mystery, mocumentary. Anything.”

“Which makes them messy.” He argues. “Anyone can make one.”

“Yeah! Theres so many hidden gems out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh, I’ll put you on them. We just need to get you a good one.”

“Askin’ me on a second date already, love?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shove at his shoulder. He was right, it is so much easier to talk freely out of the bar. Away from everyone and everything. His posture is far more relaxed, laid back into the couch with his hips canted forward rather than stiff as a board.

“We could watch one now?” He offers. If you were more sober, you might have heard the twinge of pleading in his voice. As it stands you’ve already drained the glass he gave you and are perfectly buzzed enough to be ignorant to the subtler parts of communication.

How convenient.

“Okay.” You whisper.

After a bit of debating back and forth you settle on Hell House. After all, it’s been your tried and true method for getting anyone and everyone into the genre. You don’t notice it, at first, but you slowly begin to scoot closer to him as you fold your knees up on the couch. Eventually, tucking yourself under his arm sling across the back cushions. Between him and the drinks - which you’re pretty sure is a rather fancy bourbon - you feel what could only be described as snuggly. Limbs loose and pliant, smile easy and words flowing as you cheer and jeer at the characters together.

At some point, Simon’s dark eyes meet between yours. You lean in, so does he. Inch by inch until your lips meet. It’s tentative, at first. Testing the waters. His lips are soft and move expertly against yours. You part for him has his tongue darts across your lower lip.

It’s easier than it usually is for you. Easy to let him pull you over his lap. To rest your hands on his broad shoulders as you take each other in. Normally, you’re not a person for one night stands. A commitment kind of gal. You can’t exactly say no, though, when you have a beautiful man’s hands traveling over your body like it’s the only thing in the world worth paying attention to right now.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to grunt, “Bedroom?”

“*Yes*.” You gasp between kisses.

Suddenly those large hands grasp under your ass as you’re hauled up. You grapple to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping your weight forward.

“Simon!”

“Yes, love?” He asks as if he didn’t just life you like a sack of potatoes.

“A-aren't I heavy?” You question as he makes his way through the apartment, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.

“No.” He replies bluntly. Like what you asked was stupid.

You’re placed on a bed with all the gentleness of a rare china plate- one hand cradling your upper back and the other tucked under your thighs. There isn’t any time to take in the room before Simon is kissing you again but you do count approximately five pillows and zero navy sheets.

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Simon leans in close, nose ever so slightly bumping yours. “Before we keep going, I want to establish a rule. Red light means stop. At any time, for any reason.”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Say it back, doll.”

“Red light means stop.” You reach up and cup his face. So handsome. So warm.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. “Let’s get these off, hm?” Simon pulls your clothes off deftly - dragging those rough palms over your skin as he moves and kneading at the plushness of your hips appreciatively.

You reach up to tug at his shirt. “S’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

Simon chuckles and hastily sits back to yank the shirt over his head, giving a lovely show in the process. You think this what people mean when they talk about an Adonis. There’s a comfortable soft layer of his strong abdomen. Something you want to sink your teeth into. Your fingers trace each dip and curve of his muscles, the lovely shape of his pectorals, the raised scars littering his body. Floral shapes from bullets along with slashes and smaller jabs. A particularly nasty one runs down his side, coving his ribs. A burn, you think.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. Definitely out of your fucking league. You move to sit up, reaching for his waistband.

His hand pushes your shoulder back on the bed. “Let me take care of you tonight, bird.”

Your face warms. Simon kisses your cheek, continuing down to your chest and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Gently sucking and nipping at it while flicking the other with his hand. A shameful whimper escapes your throat.

Simon leans up to murmur in your ear, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

“Want you to fuck me…” You murmur, embarrassment making you want to close your legs. His solid hips block you.

“Oh, I will, but first I want those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head.” Simon continues to place kisses down your body, over your stomach, stopping right at your panty line and tracing along it with rough fingers. His arms circle your thighs and in one swift motion your hips teeter on the edge of the bed, Simon kneeling between them. His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear.

“W-wait…” You sit up on your elbows.

He freezes, looking up at you.

“I, uh, I haven’t exactly *landscaped* in a while… wasn’t really planning-“

Simon huffs out a laugh. “I’m a grown man, love. You think a little bush is gonna scare me off?”

All thoughts related to anything within the proximity of embarrassment come to an instant halt as Simon’s lips wrap around your clit- sucking and nipping and lapping like a man starved. Like he’d die without it. A low groan rumbles through his throat.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, whimpers and moans interrupting any chance you may have at putting words together.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” He mumbles against you. A shaky moan rattles through you as he pushes a thick finger in, working it gently. His other than grips your hip tightly, pinning you in place. The pet-name sends a shiver down your spine - leaving you rolling your hips and clenching on the finger inside you.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I can tell your close, baby.” Simon groans. “Cum for me. Come on, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking tongue.”

The bastard knows the power he has in that voice. He *has* to. That baritone gravel sinks in your veins and all you can do is whimper. Panting pathetically the closer you get. His fingers curl up and your back arches harshly as your climax washes over you. Your legs tremble as he works you through it; stopping just shy of pushing you too far.

“Hey!” You gasp indignantly as a jolt shoots up your spine as he settles a final, harsh suck on your clit.

Simon taps your hip, climbing back over you as you scoot up on the bed. He carelessly kicks off his pants as he goes, toeing them off before settling between your legs. Those dark eyes rake over you leisurely - taking in every inch. Every curve and dip and flaw categorically. He sucks in a breath and sighs. “Bloody ‘ell, look at you… so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your face heats and you look away. “Who’s the flatterer now?”

“Not me. Just bein’ honest.” He places a quick kiss to your soft jawline before reaching over to dig through his nightstand drawer. You don’t miss the gold foil of the condom wrapper.

You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as he pulls off his boxer briefs. Simon is uncut, already ruddy and leaking and just begging for your mouth. Maybe next time, though. He’s already slipped on the condom, carefully hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his hip. The man has a laser-focus to him, you’ll give him that.

“Still want t’ keep goin’?” He mumbles, eyes locked on his cock as is drags between your folds.

“*Please*.” You whine pathetically. Simon’s chuckle turns into a gasp as he presses in. It’s achingly slow and you roll your hips in demand for more.

Simon lets out a low groan as his hips meet yours. The stretch is perfect - just enough to feel completely full without pushing you too far. As though your bodies were made to slot together just so. Your head falls back, chest heaving as you beg him to move, to fuck you, just *please* for the love of god-

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a sloppy smile before setting a brutal pace. You find yourself clawing at his back, clinging to him as your back arches and the most obscene sounds are systematically torn from your throat. The angle he has your hips placed causes his cock to bully that sensitive spot inside you - dragging over it with every thrust.

Simon leans toward, bracing himself on his forearms and pinning you under him as he fucks into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me. Knew you would be. So soft and sweet and goddamn *pretty*.”

“*Fuck, Simon*.” You gasp, nose bumping against his as your lips intertwine. Breaths and moans intermingle as you both chase that edge. There’s nothing else, in this moment, just you and Simon and the sounds only he has ever managed to pull from you.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Out of nowhere and all at once, tensing every muscle into a trembling mess as you clamp down around his cock. Simon sinks his teeth into your neck as his own climax takes him, cradling you close and moaning out your name so muddled you almost miss it.

For a few moments, you stay frozen in place trying to catch your breath as you come down. Your limbs feel like jelly when you finally try to move, body limp and pliable. It almost feels like a loss as he pushes off of you, leaving you open and vulnerable to the cool night air while he ties off the condom.

“Be right back.” He murmurs, slowly climbing off you and heading for an attached bathroom off to the left.

You let your eyes slipped closed only to jump and shoot back open as a dap rag drags between your thighs. A little yelp escapes you as the rough material drags across your oversensitive clit. Simon chuckles at you, tossing the rag back somewhere in the bathroom before crawling into the bed beside you. It’s so easy to curl into his chest and let those strong arms encircle you.

“Have fun, love?” Simon murmurs into your hair.

You just hum happily, smiling against his hard chest.

“Good.”

It’s just as easy as the rest of it to fall asleep like that. To seek out the warmth of his body in your satiated haze and press into him, allowing the night and rhythmic beating of his heart to overtake you. You feel four small taps between your shoulder blades just before tipping over the edge into comfortable nothing.

You wake slowly to an empty bed. The light from the window above you streams in - bathing the room in a light golden tone. It’s cozy. The blankets seem to pull you in, keeping you snugly in place. Distantly, you hear the sound of pots and pans clinking.

Shockingly, you’re not hungover. Well, not much at least. There’s a slight twinge in your head and a not unpleasant soreness in your hips. You dig around, finding your clothes strewn across the room haphazardly. Your underwear are nowhere to be found and you eventually give up with a shrug. They weren’t one of your best pairs anyway.

When you come out of the bedroom, you pause. Simon stands in the kitchen, working on something over the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants. They hang loosely around his hips, showing off the rises and dips of his strong muscles and well defined waist. This scene somehow feels too intimate despite your activities the night before.

“Perfect timing.” Simon turns, placing a plate down on the kitchen island. The omelette before you looks immaculate, all the way down to a light garnish on top.

Your eyes turn to saucers. “You…you made me breakfast?”

“Course.” He nods sharply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if *not* doing so would be some sort of affront. Either you’re still asleep and this is all a dream or you stumbled upon the perfect man through pure happenstance.

He turns the stove off and on and off twice before standing at the counter across from you while you sit on one of the stools at the island. It’s a comfortable silence as you both eat. Simon keeps glancing up at you as if waiting for your disapproval. Boyish, somehow, despite the size and breadth of him.

It’s perfect. The eggs practically melt in your mouth and the goat cheese and vegetables taste fresh. You can’t help but him happily as you eat.

By the time you’re done, you think you might be a little in love.

Maybe you should text Cass and thank her or something. Maybe a gift basket. “Oh. My phone’s dead.”

“Didn’t charge it before y’left last night?” Simon cocks an eyebrow, chewing on his last bite.

You snort. “It was last minute, remember?”

“What if I’d been some sort of psycho? What was your plan?” He grins as he takes your empty plate. If you were a more impulsive woman you may have gone so far as to lick the damn thing.

“Are you a psycho?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Well then, nothing to worry about.” You grin, watching a little too happily as he rinses down the dishes and loads the dishwasher.

Simon just scoffs at you.

You glance at the time above the stove, disappointment settling deep in your chest. “Shit. I should get going.”

“I’ll get you a cab.” Simon offers automatically, reaching for his phone.

You shift side to side, twiddling your thumbs. “Y’know… we never finished the movie…”

Simon cocks and eyebrow. From the pleased smirk on his face you can tell he knows what you’re implying. He still patiently waits for you to say it out loud.

“Would, uh, would you want to exchange numbers? Maybe… meet up… again…?” Your voice is more timid than you’d like. This fear of rejection is new. Being rejected is nothing new for you, so why does it suddenly feel so high stakes with this one guy you barely know?

You don’t miss the way his eyes light up ever so slightly at the question. “I’d love to.”

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 4: market day

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

You've heard a lot of people say that the honeymoon period only lasts the first few weeks of marriage and that after that things can start to get complicated. But the rule didn’t seem to apply to you.

Maybe it was because you two were young and enthusiastic, because you were too busy missing him to think about arguing, or maybe it was just that you really were made for each other.

You often tried to steal as much time as possible from your husband’s demanding job because being an FBI agent often took him away from you, and sometimes having a few domestic moments was all you both desired.

Grocery shopping was one of those activities that really made you feel like a married couple, and it saved you many trips to the store for food.

“Which do you prefer? Soy or almond milk?”

“Soy has phytoestrogens and more health benefits in moderate amounts. Almond is for people looking to maintain weight, and although it’s healthy, it’s low in protein.”

“Soy, got it,” you said with a small smile at his intellectual response.

Every time it was grocery shopping day, your job was always to push the cart and grab an item or two within reach, but most of the time, Spencer was the one in charge of selecting your groceries. After all, he had a pretty extensive knowledge of the benefits of each food. He always wanted to take care of you, and since he was often away, one way he could do that was by ensuring you were well-nourished.

“Look, I found some tea,” he announced happily, making you look away from the yogurt section in the fridge to pay attention. “Lavender, passionflower, valerian…”

“For your insomnia?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, dropping the boxes into the cart “And some mint and lemon for you.”

“You know me so well,” you smiled sweetly, leaning on the plastic handle, letting him gently caress your cheek.

You two had known each other for so many years that there were details about each other you knew by instinct. You knew his favorite brand of coffee, how he liked it with a specific number of sugar spoons, that you needed to buy him two sets of socks because he always liked mismatched ones, and you knew the exact spot on his head to stroke to help him fall back asleep after a nightmare. He knew you hated wearing shoes indoors, that you had a specific way of sleeping, and that you hated the smell of cinnamon. There were so many things you did as if they were second nature that it seemed impossible to list them all.

The truth is, people at Spencer’s work were quite surprised to find out that not only did he have a girlfriend, but that you were getting married. The event was private, very intimate, and not at all pretentious because that wasn’t your style.

You both had no problem moving into a new, slightly more spacious apartment, now that everything was doubled. But you were managing it quite well, to be honest.

You continued strolling through the grocery store, staying close to your husband, and then remembered you needed some bread. You pushed the cart over and stood next to a woman who seemed to be in a dilemma, staring at two loaves of bread as if trying to analyze which was better.

“The best one is that one,” you said, hoping not to make her uncomfortable. She looked at you confused, so you decided to speak again. “It has less sugar and the necessary carbs for good nutrition. There’s a study about it; it’s true.”

“Oh, sweetie, I wasn’t looking for the healthiest, just the one with the best quantity and price. It’s for my kids. Those children could eat an entire loaf in a day, and I can’t afford that.”

You laughed honestly and gave her a look of understanding. She was a bit older than you but not old enough to be considered elderly.

“I think you’re right.”

“I love my kids, but I won’t lie… sometimes they drive me crazy,” she confessed, and you both laughed again.

“Darling, do you want me to make pasta for you this week? Rossi taught me a recipe that…”

He trailed off when he noticed you had company, and for some reason, he suddenly felt shy.

“That’s fine, love. We can eat whatever you want,” you replied kindly. “I already have something to go with it.”

You winked at him when he noticed the wine you had tossed into the cart, and then he smiled and went off in search of the necessary ingredients.

“Your boyfriend?”

“Husband,” you corrected her. There was a strange pride in saying that.

“Husband! Oh, that’s so sweet. How long have you been married?”

“We’ll be married for four months next week.”

“Young love, so beautiful,” she sighed, as if nostalgic for a time that now seemed too far away. “And he helps you with the shopping?”

“I help him, actually,” you laughed. “He’s the one who selects everything. Before we got married, I had the worst eating habits, and he hated that. So we try to eat better now.”

“Marriages are so different now,” she said, and upon hearing that, you expected to endure a conservative speech and internally dreaded it. “My husband never joins me for things like this; he’s not even interested. In this and in much more, to be honest. And it’s nice to see that girls nowadays can have these kinds of relationships. You know, where they’re supported.”

Somehow, that touched your heart, and suddenly you wished you could hug the woman, but you held back. Then, you looked over at Spencer. He was in the vegetable section, apparently comparing two bags of spinach. You could recognize him in a crowd without a doubt, with his slouched posture, his messy hair (freshly cut, by the way), and his peculiar formal attire.

You had always appreciated having the man in your life, even when you didn’t have a romantic relationship, but you had never stopped to think how lucky you were that he had decided to love you.

“I’m glad too,” you said in what was barely a whisper.

You didn’t say anything else. The woman said her goodbyes kindly, and you just smiled at her, too busy gazing at the man with loving eyes. You stood there watching him, and when he approached, he couldn’t help but notice your strange expression.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing. I just had a very revealing conversation with that woman.”

“Huh, yeah?” he hummed, dropping a collection of items into the shopping cart “And what was it about?”

“About you,” you answered casually, lifting your hands to place them on his chest and then sliding them to his cheeks “Talking to her reminded me that you’re the best husband in the world.”

Carefully and affectionately, you stood on your tiptoes and planted a loud kiss on him. Spencer laughed as his cheeks blushed, returning the favor with a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I don’t know if I am, but I try.”

“And that’s why I love you,” you confessed sweetly.

And then, it was Spencer who felt lucky.

[abby-howard]

I'm going to be asking a lot of artists I follow this question, but how did you develop your style? It SEEMS like most people find their style and stick with it forever, just making improvements and iterations. I tend to work in a lot of different styles because I enjoy doing that, though I know there are things I gravitate towards as well. But I wonder what your journey was and how you got feedback and improved while staying true to what you enjoyed?

Hi there!

I definitely wouldn't say that I've found my style and stuck with it forever-- I feel like each of my projects has asked for a certain kind of art, and has presented new challenges that push me in new directions.

Some of that comes from seeing someone else's work and having something click into place that might fix errors/faults in my own, and then I might try to incorporate that, such as bigger outlines on my characters to help distinguish them from the background, or maybe a way someone else simplifies eyes that can help make mine look less weird.

When I first started drawing, I can see where I encountered certain influences because my sketchbooks suddenly switch to incorporating some new stylistic element that I liked from whatever I was reading/watching at the time. But it was never QUITE right, it was never just copying, there was always something ~wrong~ with it. And that wrongness was my style! As much as I hated it, that was what distinguished my art from being just a copy of someone else's. I hate it less now, and understand that other people see something there that maybe I don't, because it's just what happens when I filter other people's work through my head. My soul, if you will.

There are definitely through-lines with my work, driven by what I like drawing and what comes easily to me-- hatching is almost always a major component, and I like making expressive characters. Here's some of my earliest available stuff, from my old webcomic:

Then not long after that, I started The Last Halloween, which pushed me to challenge myself in both layout and style:

And here's the same comic, years later:

And here's a series I did for kids, where I had to use full color and lay off on the hatching, as well as learn how to reconstruct animals that we have no photo references for, which is definitely a place where style comes majorly into play, whether I wanted it to or not:

Then there was the horror book I did, where I tried to push my work to be less cartoony overall, and to work very hard on improving my hatching:

Then I started work on Scarlet Hollow, where I incorporated a limited/muted palette and had to once again push myself to make less-cartoony art, as well as learn more consistency so I could draw sprite sets. This was a big challenge for me, and has helped me grow as an artist so much!

And most recently, I wrapped up work on Slay the Princess, which required that I go back in the cartoony direction, but in a very different way than I was used to. This took a lot of sketching to figure out, and there's still a decent amount of artistic stumbling in Chapter 1 while I settled into it.

She's drawing on anime/Disney influence, but each Princess required a bit of stylistic variability. Some are more anime, while some are more realistic than even the Scarlet Hollow characters.

So I wouldn't worry too much, honestly! A person's style is often something that reveals itself over the course of their career, rather than something they choose and then try to stick to forever.

Even if you don't think you have a style, you do. It might vary a lot piece by piece, especially if you're trying to closely imitate another person's art, but the more work you do, the more you'll figure out your own strengths and interests!

[avatar-anna]

Honeymoon Avenue

Harry Styles x Latina! Reader Masterlist

“Harry.”

Silence.

“Harry.”

More silence.

Y/n rolled her eyes and blew a stray piece of hair out of her face. Straddling Harry’s waist on their shared hotel bed, she shook his shoulders with both hands. “Bubba. Wake. Up.”

“Huh? Oh hi.” Harry slowly blinked his eyes open to find his wife sitting on top of him. 

His wife. Even though he had proposed, and even though he was there standing in front of Y/n to put the ring on her finger as they exchanged vows, Harry still couldn’t quite believe that they were married.

Seeing the way she was sitting on him, he grinned, his hands reaching up and underneath her shirt to lazily trace patterns along her back. Harry’s grin deepened when he felt goosebumps rise along her spine.

“We were supposed to go watch the sunrise,” she pouted a while later. She was sitting on top of the ridiculously large marble bathroom counter in their ridiculously large hotel bathroom. Y/n had told Harry multiple times that she was more than comfortable staying somewhere less extravagant, but he insisted, never one to shy away from his love for the finer things in life; that and the hotel they were staying at had a fantastic security team, something Harry was interested when he helped her plan their honeymoon.

Y/n tried to stay on task and remember why she had been trying to wake Harry before the sun rose in the first place, but with the way he was looking at her and how one of his hands took one of hers and brought it to his mouth and began kissing along her palm and down her wrist, she could hardly think straight. She felt herself lean down almost involuntarily, pressing her lips to his. Harry hummed happily as he kissed her, no longer tired or curious as to why Y/n had decided to wake him up when it was still dark outside. He was quick to slip her shirt up and off of her, flipping them over so that she was against the bed and he hovered over her. Y/n whimpered quietly against Harry’s lips as he pushed her deeper against the mattress, his tongue tangling with hers as his hand brought her leg up to wrap around his waist, grinding against her to let her know just how awake he was now.

It was slow, unrushed, Harry and Y/n both too sleepy to do more than hold each other closely and press lazy kisses on lips and warm skin. Y/n gripped his hair, which had grown longer and curlier since the wedding. While they were out, Harry usually wore a ratty cap to tame it, but she loved the length, loved running her fingers through the silky strands.

Harry murmured sweet nothings in Y/n's ear, groaning when she squeezed around him tighter. He swallowed her moans with kisses, nibbling gently on her bottom lip until she fell apart beneath him.

Harry stepped out from behind the foggy glass shower doors, a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair extra curly from the steam. “I’m sorry. Tomorrow maybe?”

“I doubt it,” she huffed. “We’ll just end up back where we started this morning.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Harry asked her, leaning both of his hands on either side of her. “You.” A kiss to her jaw. “Me.” Her cheekbone. “Hours and hours to ourselves with absolutely nowhere else to be.” He kissed her lips this time, and he could taste the minty flavor of her toothpaste on her tongue.

Y/n brought her hands up to wrap around Harry’s neck and pull him even closer, her calves brushing the spot where towel met skin on Harry’s waist as she circled them around his middle. She felt his hands move underneath her coverup, cold to the touch from leaning against the marble countertop. Her feet began to push his towel down, but Harry pulled away from her with a final kiss before she got the chance.

“Now, I know I’m absolutely irresistible, but I’ve made plans for us this afternoon,” Harry said, helping Y/n off the counter. Her mouth widened in surprise, but Harry just kissed the top of her head and left the bathroom to get ready for their day. “And make sure you wear something you feel comfortable hiking in,” he said over his shoulder. 

She shook her head in disbelief at his antics, though this far into her relationship with Harry, Y/n supposed she shouldn’t have underestimated his playful side.

“What? You mean you couldn’t find someone to carry us on gold couches wherever we’re going?” she asked him teasingly as she followed Harry into the main area of their suite. 

He turned towards her, a light blue t-shirt fisted in his hands. “Well, I tried, but they were all booked up.”

About twenty minutes later, the newlyweds were out the door and ready to start their day. They waited outside for the car Harry had rented to come around, Harry holding Y/n close to his chest, moving her braids aside so he could kiss the side of her neck. She didn’t say anything at first, too wrapped up in his touch to remember they were out in the open and not hidden away on a secluded beach or back in their suite.

“People could see us, bubba” she mumbled quietly under her breath.

He only stopped to kiss her cheek and whisper in her ear. “Let them.”

Y/n swiftly turned around in their small bubble so that they were facing each other. Harry didn’t hesitate to kiss her on the lips, and on instinct, she threaded her fingers through his hair to pull him closer.

“I don’t want to be one of those couples,” she told him when she finally came to her senses enough to lean back from him.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, all over each other and throwing what they have in other people’s faces. You know that.” What she didn’t have to say was that she also didn’t love having their more intimate moments captured on camera because she knew he felt the same way; though obviously he felt different about it today. It made Y/n feel like it wasn’t just the two of them in their relationship, like she was sharing that side of Harry with the rest of the world. They could have his music and his charisma and his charm, but there were some parts of him that she selfishly wanted all to herself.

And it was embarrassing to be sent pictures of her and Harry making out on the beach back home by one of her family members.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Harry said, kissing the tip of her nose. “I just love you too much, I think.”

She heard a car pull up behind them and turned around, her hands still on either side of his face. “Come on, our ride is here.” Taking her hand in his, they walked the few steps to the car, Harry opening the door for Y/n. She didn’t react, but only because he’d been doing it every day since they got here.

Y/n grinned as her heart melted into a puddle at her feet. The rest of the world be damned, she thought. Throwing her arms around him, she kissed him, reaching up on her toes and holding his face in her hands. Pulling away, she kissed all over Harry’s face, grinning when he began to blush.

Here being Fiji. It had taken a while for the two of them to settle on somewhere both of them wanted to go. Harry wanted their honeymoon to be relaxing and full of spending nearly every moment in their bed. “We can do that anywhere,” Y/n told him when he kept showing her secluded islands that only had white sand as far as the eye could see.

“Oh we can?” Harry had asked her, wiggling his eyebrows and suddenly ready to turn in for the night.

“Don’t give me that look, I just meant that we should have a little adventure too.”

“We can be adventurous,” He’d said, but she just smacked his chest in reply.

“Focus. We need to get this done before it’s too late.” 

Harry eventually sat back in his seat instead of practically sitting in hers at the kitchen table. He knew Y/n was organized and liked to do things as efficiently as possible. He had the urge to tell her that wherever they looked, someone would always make a space for them if his name was on the booking, but he liked watching her comb through various websites and trying to find the best place that had what both of them wanted, so he let her do her research and gave his opinion when she asked for it.

So now they were in Fiji, on their way to hike up to some waterfall.

This particular activity Harry had looked up all on his own. Well, it was more like a friend of his mentioned it when Harry said that’s where he and Y/n were going for their honeymoon, and from there he tried to figure out more, thinking she would love it. He never actually told her where they were going today, but she was always up for doing something outside the confines of their hotel—sailing, surfing, dancing in nightclubs (though Harry had to admit he liked that one too). He enjoyed all of them, really, but it was like Y/n was constantly full of energy; he was always tugging on her hand and pulling her back into bed or to his towel on the beach. He was surprised she hadn’t tried to go for a run while they’d been here, but he was happy to wake up next to her every morning all the same.

“I can feel you staring at my ass, bubba” she called over her shoulder.

Harry walked behind Y/n as they continued up the trail together, admiring her behind the dark shades of his sunglasses. She was quiet for most of their hike up to the waterfall, except for the few times she asked where they were going or what he was up to, finally having given up twenty minutes ago when Harry just kept grinning and shook his head.

Harry’s face split into a grin as he took a few more strides to take her hand in his. “I wasn’t.”

He was a terrible liar, they both knew that, and his cheeky little smile did nothing to help his case. “You were, but that’s okay,” she told him, raising a hand to her face to shield herself from the sun. She was wearing sunglasses, a gift from Harry once he realized she was constantly using her hand to keep the sun out of her eyes, but it seemed like the habit stuck.

They walked some more, talking about random things as they took in everything around them. Y/n was surprised that Harry had a day planned for them outdoors. Not that he wasn’t the outdoorsy type—they’d gone on all sorts of adventures together when their schedules allowed it—but he had been so adamant that this trip was about relaxing and staying in bed for as long as possible and trips to the spa (together of course). When they came to their destination, though, she saw why Harry would’ve wanted to come up here.

“I wasn’t,” Harry insisted, but Y/n only shook her head, amused by his refusal to admit when he checked her out, having done it often enough that they’d had similar conversations before. Since they'd gotten together, he openly admired Y/n, something that had earned him relentless teasing from friends for years.

But this wasn't the same, not really. He was just admiring her in general, stunned into silence by the fact that someone as kind and beautiful as she was his wife. But Harry would never admit that so easily, not if he wanted to avoid being relentlessly teased by his wife for being so thoughtful and romantic. She would call it cheesy, but he always thought he was charming, endearing.

“Oh, Harry,” she breathed, her eyes taking in the huge waterfall in front of her. Y/n had heard the water crashing into the large pool before they’d reached it, but seeing it all up close made her stop.

“You like it?” Harry asked, watching her reaction. She would tell him that he should be looking at what he’d obviously brought them up here for, and she would definitely punch his shoulder for saying this out loud, but he thought she was a much more incredible sight to behold.

Y/n nodded, her eyes quickly darting from the top of the waterfall to where it ended in a pool of crystal clear water. “Is it—”

“Safe to swim in? Yes. Wouldn’t have brought you here if it wasn’t. Come on,” he told her, nudging her arm a bit to get her moving again. She blinked out of her momentary daze and began to shed her clothes like Harry had.

Before he could slip off his shoes, Y/n pulled Harry down to her lips. She pulled away from him almost as fast as she had kissed him. “Race you to the waterfall,” she said quickly before taking off toward the edge of the pool.

It took Harry hearing the sound of Y/n's splash in the water to get Harry moving. Slipping off his shoes, he raced after her, his jump into the pool not quite as gracefully as she probably did. It wasn’t a long swim, but she still beat Harry, waiting for him on the other side of the waterfall with a victorious grin. He swam the last few feet to where she seemed to be sitting on a large boulder. It was shallower on the other side, just enough for Harry to stand comfortably and hold Y/n when he pulled her off her perch.

“I won,” she said proudly. It was loud with all the water crashing into the pool, but she was close enough for him to hear her gloat.

“You did,” he replied, but from where Harry stood, he thought he was the one that had won.

He kissed her then, something he never got tired of doing. Her lips were cold and wet against his own from their swim, but holding her like this made Harry feel like he had been set on fire. He involuntarily shuffled them so that Y/n was pinned against the boulder she’d been sitting on. She whimpered from the cool surface making contact with her back, feeling both hot and cold at the same time as Harry followed a single droplet of water that fell down her neck with his lips and tongue.

Harry’s hands traveled from where they had been cupping either side of her face to her back, pulling at the strings of her swimsuit until they came loose, then doing the same with the tie at her neck.

Removing her arms from around his neck she covered herself, feeling self-conscious even though no one was around to see her now bare chest. Harry tried to carefully pry her arms away, but Y/n shook her head, refusing to uncross them.

“What are you doing—Hey I’m gonna need that!” A nervous giggle bubbled up and out of Y/n as Harry waved her bikini in her face and tossed it behind him, mumbling don’t need this as he threw it over his shoulder and it landed in the water with a resounding slap! 

“Oh, she’s shy now,” Harry joked, gently removing a strand of wet hair from her cheek. “Come on darling,” he said, trying to coax his wife back out of the shell she’d hidden inside, kissing her on the tip of her nose. “There isn’t another soul for miles. It’s just you and me.”

She knew that, but she still couldn’t shake the nervousness that overcame her just then go away, the mere thought of someone other than Harry seeing her so exposed a little frightening.

Harry pressed a feather-light kiss to her cheek, then the other, and then both sides of her jaw, peppering her face until he was a hair’s breadth away from her lips. He hovered there for a moment, looking at Y/n with a question in his eyes. He could tell she was opening up, the grip her arms had around her body wasn’t so tight anymore.

“You know,” Harry said, letting go of her for a second to locate the top half of her swimsuit. “It’s always been a dream of mine to have sex under a waterfall.”

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at that admission, mostly because she knew it wasn’t the slightest bit true. Still, she felt the smallest kernel of excitement unfurl inside her. “Since when?”

“Mm...Since about an hour ago,” he replied as he swam back over to her. Harry held out her bikini top, an obnoxious hot pink thing she’d gotten as a joke but seemed to be one of Harry’s favorites while they were on their honeymoon; it was part of the reason she was surprised when he threw it away from them so carelessly.

She scoffed but didn’t immediately take the top back. She knew he was giving her a choice, one that he wouldn’t object to or make a fuss about if she decided to quit while they were ahead. 

Still going one hand across her chest, Y/n reached out and took her bikini back from Harry. He wasn’t disappointed, just swam closer to her so he could kiss her again. His interest piqued though when she took the top and set it on the boulder behind her and pulled him closer so that their chests were touching.

“Really?” Harry asked, trying to contain his budding excitement. He’d kind of meant it as a joke but now he really wanted to. Still, even if they were married and had been together a few years prior, he never wanted to make Y/n do something she wasn’t one hundred percent comfortable with.

She nodded, pulling the hair ties from her braids and uncoiling her hair. “It’s just you and me right?”

“Just you and me,” he told her, pulling her legs back around his waist, his thumbs rubbing circles into her hips next to the fabric of her swimsuit bottoms.

“Then let’s make your dreams come true, shall we?” She asked, then promptly pulled him in for a searing kiss.

Harry didn’t have time to respond, but he would make sure she knew that she had pretty much made every single one of his dreams a reality.

*.*

“Are you going to ignore me all day?”

“Maybe.”

“Are you going to ignore me forever?”

“...No.”

Harry settled down next to where Y/n was lying down on a towel, her face hidden in her arms. To the untrained eye, she was merely suntanning, maybe even sleeping, but Harry knew better. His wife hadn’t spoken a word to him since they’d left the waterfall, only giving him hums or grunts when he asked her a question about whether she was hungry or how they wanted to spend the rest of their day. He was a little embarrassed too, but he was mostly amused by the whole situation.

He rolled onto his stomach and rested his head in his arms so that he was facing his wife. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Y/n turned her head to face him. “‘It’s just you and me,’ he said. ‘Make my dreams come true, baby,’ he said.” She turned her head back around.

“I did not say that,” Harry said, trying to hide his laugh. “Nobody saw anything, I promise.”

“Harry, it was a whole family!” Y/n whisper-shouted at him. “I was topless, I was in a pool under a waterfall, and a whole family swam right over to us.”

He bit his lip, not knowing what else to say. He rested a hand on her back, the strings of her swimsuit now tightly secured around her back and neck. Harry felt a little relieved when she didn’t flinch or shake off his touch, and he began to rub soothing circles into her skin. 

Y/n was right, a family had walked, or swam, in their case, in on them. Her entire body went red as she darted away from where Harry had her pinned against that boulder and ducked underwater. Harry quickly shimmied back into his swim trunks and grabbed her bikini from where it was sitting on the boulder like a bright pink signal that told the world what they had been doing. When she came back up, she only raised her head above the water, but Harry could tell her arms were back around her chest again. He tossed Y/n her swimsuit, and she turned around for him to help her tie it. 

“I—It came loose,” she had stuttered when the mother gave a curious look in their direction. She, along with what Harry and Y/n assumed was her husband and two young boys, were behind the waterfall and playing around it, the father pointing out different things to them, perhaps distracting his sons while Y/n situated herself. The mother didn’t say anything, but she didn’t look entirely convinced, which made Y/n flush even more, but they didn’t stick around to talk to her, or any other members of her family. She and Harry didn’t say anything as they made the swim of shame back to where their clothes were, and she hadn’t spoken to Harry since.

So now they were back at the beach that stretched along the length of the hotel they were staying at, Y/n trying to sleep and forget while Harry tried to find ways to make her feel better. “Will it make you feel better if I told you you’ll never see them ever again?” He asked her, but she only groaned into the crook of her arm. Rolling his eyes at her childish behavior, he moved even closer to her.

“Hey.”

More groaning.

“Y/nnn,” Harry sing-songed, poking her in the arm.

“What?” She asked, but it sounded more like a whine.

He grinned, even though she couldn’t see it. “I love you.”

“Hmm.”

Harry gasped dramatically in disbelief. “Say it back!”

Y/n didn’t respond at all this time, just shuffled a little farther away from him on her towel. Harry sat up and rolled her over, placing both hands on either side of her head. She studied his face for a moment, noting the new freckles that appeared on his face from spending so much time in the sun, and a tan that complimented his green eyes and gave some of her siblings a run for their money.

“Yes?” she asked, pretending not to know what he wanted. 

Harry frowned at her, but it was playful, the corners of his mouth wanting to break out into a grin instead. “You have to say it back.”

“Or what?” Y/n knew that Harry wasn’t at fault for what happened at the waterfall, and now that she’d pouted long enough, she was ready to resume their trip.

“Or...I’ll just have to kiss you,” he said finally.

She gave him a funny look. “That’s not exactly a threat.”

Harry grinned mischievously, and Y/n suddenly wished she hadn’t said anything at all. “Guess I’ll just have to do this then,” he said before flattening himself on top of her. She let out a muffled oof as Harry put all his weight on her, nearly covering her entire body.

“Oh my God, Harry,” Y/n wheezed, trying and failing to push him off. “It is too hot outside for this.”

His hair, curlier now from the heat and their swim earlier, tickled her nose as he nestled against her, apparently having no plans to move anytime soon. Sighing, Y/n started to run a hand through his hair, unable to help her small grin when she felt Harry relax against her. “I love you too,” she whispered into his hair when he eventually fell asleep. She let him sleep on top of her for a little bit, but eventually the late afternoon sun and his body heat became entirely too much and she had to get out from underneath him.

After minutes of carefully peeling Harry off of her, Y/n got up and walked over to the hotel bar that had been set up on the beach. She sat down and ordered a margarita, her eyes widening when two were set in front of her. The bartender pointed to the sign behind her that Y/n had apparently missed. Happy Hour, it read. Two For One Special. 

Well, she thought. Why not? She began sipping on the first margarita and chatting with the bartender whenever she wasn’t serving other patrons. The longer she sat there, the more Y/n forgot about the embarrassing slip-up at the waterfall, her mind feeling light and breezy, not a care in the world could reach her as she started in on margarita number four.

“They want to buy you a drink,” Farrah, her bartender, said, pointing to two men a few seats down from where Y/n was. 

She looked over at the men in question. They were okay looking, she supposed, very red from not wearing enough sunscreen, but decent looking. Both of them smiled and waved at her, and she did the same, too polite for her own good. Y/n turned back to Farrah and quietly told her no. Farrah winked at her and left to go tell them.

“What is it with this bathing suit? Fucking magic or some shit,” she mumbled to herself, looking down at the cursed thing. 

“I, for one, think you look hot.”

Y/n got excited for a moment, but then she heard the voice and the rest of what the person said. Harry never called her hot; he might think it, but his compliments were always more endearing and well thought out. And this person’s voice was definitely not her husband’s.

Looking up she saw the two guys took her rejection as an invitation to come closer. She shot a look at Farrah, feeling betrayed by the kind bartender, but she gave Y/n an apologetic look and shook her head. Guess they hadn’t heeded either of their warnings then.

Y/n played with the ring on her left hand, a habit she had picked up since Harry had proposed. She was too drunk for this.  “I—”

She was cut off by the same guy who’d called her hot, asking her all sorts of questions about what she was doing here and why she was all alone.

“Um, I—”

“Are you here with your sorority or something?” The second guy asked.

Sorority? I’m twenty-eight. Y/n looked toward Farrah again, wanting to leave but not without paying her bill. The bartender met her eyes and gave her a shooing motion, letting her know that they would deal with it later.

“Uh…No entiendo” she said in a last-ditch effort to get rid of them. But it seemed like her attempts were in vain, their eyes widening and interest sparking even more.

Ready to bullshit her way through lies and excuses in Spanish, Y/n stood up, stumbling a bit. Not from the alcohol, but because these two men—she didn’t even know their names—were standing too close. Before she could fall on her ass, a hand was on her arm to steady her. She was about to turn around and give this person a piece of her mind, becoming more and more impatient with strangers coming up to her. But Y/n caught a glimpse of the hand that was still wrapped around her arm, spotting a ring on this person’s hand. She knew that ring, she’d helped pick out that ring.

Feeling a sense of relief and giddiness wash over her, she turned around to see Harry. His hair was a little mussed on one side from how he’d been sleeping, and there were grains of sand dotting his cheeks and eyebrows, but in that moment Y/n thought he’d never looked better. On instinct, she latched onto her husband, his skin still warm, and perhaps a little red, from laying in the sun for so long. 

Harry wrapped his arms around her immediately, goosebumps prickling his skin when she pressed a tiny kiss to his chest.

He’d woken up a little disoriented, distinctly remembering that Y/n was there when he fell asleep. He walked around aimlessly for a bit, looking up and down the long stretch of coast trying to see where his wife had run off to, occasionally getting stopped for a picture as he went.

To say he was surprised to see her sitting at the hotel bar with two men talking to her was an understatement. It’s not that he didn’t trust his wife, he knew they only had eyes for each other, but something about seeing those guys trying to make a move on her while she most likely tried to rebuff them in the nicest way possible made Harry’s blood boil. 

In her current state, Y/n just barely caught the way Harry’s face had become very stoic, or the way Farrah and the two guys that came up to her seemed to recognize who she was with. She smiled dreamily up at him and hugged him tight. “You made it. I was just thinking about you.”

Harry’s glare softened at the slight slurring in his wife's voice, his eyebrows raising as she kissed his chest again and her thumbs rubbed circles into his sides. “Starting without me, I see,” he said, trying not to sound pissed off at the two guys for her sake. “Are you going to introduce me to your friends?”

Y/n shot him a knowing look. Maybe she’s more sober than I thought, Harry thought to himself. She shrugged. “These are the men who came up to me at the bar. Men who came up to me at the bar, meet my husband. He’s, like, an indie singer. Really small stuff, so you probably haven’t heard of him, but I think he’s pretty good.”

She heard Farrah snort from behind the bar at her answer, not having expected a response like that. Y/n turned toward Harry, who looked amused but not surprised at how she introduced him, and Farrah assumed that this wasn’t the first time Y/n had said something like this.

“Can we go, bubba?” she asked, looking down at her swimsuit. “With great power comes great responsibility, and I’m not feeling very responsible at the moment.”

“Of course, lovie,” he said as he kissed her temple, trying not to laugh at her nonsensical words. Harry had no idea what his wife was talking about, but that’s why he’d come looking for her anyway.

He reached down to take her hand, but Y/n had other plans. Harry had about two seconds to catch her as she jumped into his arms and wrapped hers around his neck. He quietly gave his and Y/n's suite number to the bartender who had been watching this whole scene unfold and gave her a sheepish smile as he waved goodbye and Y/n nuzzled Harry’s neck. Hardly even glancing at the two men who had come up to his wife, Harry walked away, Y/n giving them a friendly wave as they got farther and farther away.

“I missed you,” she told Harry. Her lips grazed his ear, but Harry knew it wasn’t intentional.

“Did you? Why’d you leave then?” 

They entered the elevator after Harry stopped to pick up their things. He got a couple of odd looks, but Harry didn’t pay them any mind. This wasn’t the first time he’d had to carry Y/n after she’d had more than a few drinks. She had always been the kind of drunk who liked to cuddle and give hugs to whoever was in sight, but over time she only ever wanted Harry when she got like this. He didn’t mind, of course. He felt like it was the only time Y/n ever let him really take care of her; even when she was sick, which wasn’t often, she was constantly evading Harry as he tried to get her back into bed to rest.

“Well, when you decided to sleep on me, it got very hot, so I went to the bar where I met Farrah, and then some guys must’ve realized that I’m really hot because they tried to buy me a drink, but I told them no, but they came over anyway. Like magic, I’m telling you.”

Harry let her ramble while he walked them back to their suite, but his interest piqued at the end. “What is love?”

“What is what?” she asked him, her head tilting to one side.

He laughed and shook his head at her. “You said something was like magic, but you didn’t say what.”

Y/n had to think about it for a moment as Harry set her down on the bed. “Oh, I remember! It was my bathing suit,” she told him, standing up from the bed and taking it off, throwing it behind her. Harry watched amusedly while she wandered around their suite and pulled on a hoodie; his hoodie, he quickly realized. “So many people were staring at it today. You, those two boys at the waterfall, those guys at the bar. Magic, it’s gotta be.”

Harry didn’t bother to change out of his swim trunks as he got into bed with her, Y/n quickly latching onto him again. He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t so much the swimsuit as her in the swimsuit, but she was already onto the next thing.

“What are you up to over there?” he asked her as he felt her kiss the back of his neck.

“I’m just cuddling,” she said simply, her lips moving against his skin.

Harry turned so that they were facing each other, but Y/n only buried her face into the crook of his neck again. “As someone who has been cuddled by you before, I can say with certainty that this isn't always the norm.”

She squeezed him tighter, her fingers finding purchase in his hair. She didn’t answer him at first, and for a moment, Harry thought she wasn’t going to. She leaned back and brought her mouth to his, her lips soft and warm and tasting faintly of tequila.

“I’m kissing all the jealousy away,” she told him when she pulled away, their noses still touching.

“What?” Harry laughed, surprised by her confession.

Y/n leaned even further back and raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how grumpy you were back there, mister. I’m a little tipsy, not stupid.”

He kissed her cheek, smiling when he felt her grin against his lips.“I was better this time though, wasn’t I?”

“Mm, I would say you’re improving, yes,” Y/n answered.

Harry had a habit of getting jealous every now and again when they went out together. It was mostly because Y/n was too nice and didn’t realize when someone was flirting with her, and she was the kind of person who liked to use touch as a form of expression—hands on the arm, playful shoves to the shoulder. She never meant any harm by it, but Harry couldn’t help but feel a little jealous whenever someone leaned a little too close or tried to buy her a drink. Y/n always kissed his cheek and told him not to worry, trying to wipe the scowl off his face the best she could. He’d gotten better about hiding it over time, but she always seemed to know what Harry was thinking, sometimes before he even thought it.

“So, I was going to suggest drinking all night to forget this afternoon, but you started without me,” Harry said now, brushing a strand of hair out of his wife’s face.

Her eyes went round with excitement. “Oh, can we, bubba? Please?”

“Look where we are, lovie,” Harry replied, looking at the way they were cuddled up on the hotel bed. “Do you really want to get up right now?”

Y/n nodded, already starting to sit up and pulling Harry up with her. “Yes. I know how much you love to dance with me,” she said, smiling a little. 

Getting up from the bed, she started rummaging around through her husband’s things to find something for him to wear. She walked back to where Harry was still sitting on the bed and handed him a button-up and a pair of shorts. “Unless you’re still recovering from the wedding and are using me as an excuse?”

Harry stared at his wife for a moment before rolling his eyes and taking the clothes in her hands. He wanted to argue with her about their wedding night, but she was kind of right, having taken one too many shots with her brothers and not quite ready to relive it. “Alright, you win. What’s the second shirt for?”

Y/n looked down at the shirt in her hands, then back to Harry. “We’re going to match, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

So Harry and Y/n went to some club that night, each dressed in one of his patterned Hawaiian shirts and ready to dance the night away. Hers pretty much covered her shorts and fell to one side to expose one shoulder, but she walked hand in hand with her husband like she was strutting down a runway. They looked a little silly, but neither of them cared one bit, the only thing on their minds was each other and the life spent together ahead of them.

[celestelunia]

Yk what would be sad. A Vil x GN!reader who keeps changing themselves because Vil keeps insulting everything about them (not on purpose) but he doesn’t realize what’s happening until they just stop talking to him all together because being with him hurts them too much. Nice ending maybe? (I’m a baby and can’t handle angst endings😭)

Hi! So sorry this took a while! Hope you've been well!

First time writing for Vil, but I tried my best lol. Hope you like it!

TW: self-esteem/image issues

"Straighten up"

"That color doesn't look good on you. Try something ligther."

"Hm. That clothing style isn't right. This just won't do."

"No. No. No. It's all wrong."

As you walked down the halls of NRC, you kept a couple of style magazines pushed up against your chest as your once bright eyes seemed darker and less happy.

Vil Schoenheit was someone you always admired, and when you were able to become a part of the rare few people who he considered a friend, you couldn't have been happier. You knew being next to someone like Vil wasn't going to be easier, but you never expected something on this level.

At first, it started with little words of improvement. Ones that you gladly took to help improve yourself, but over time, that's all you heard. Negative words on how you could do better. Look better. Nothing was very good enough, and now it was starting to ware you down. Suddenly, it felt like Vil was saying "you" weren't good enough.

At that thought, you came to a stop as you looked down at the magazines in your hands. It was all too much, and it was getting to the point that you couldn't even look at yourself in the mirror anymore. With a sigh, you turned and walked towards the nearest trash bin before you threw away the very magazines that had become your life.

A month had passed, and Vil was starting to wonder what was going on with you. You had slowly stopped coming by his room, attending meetings, and just having lunch together. At first, he figured it was because you got busy since he understood time restrictions and all, but after a couple of weeks, he felt like something was off.

The few times Vil saw you in the hallways the moment you caught his gaze, the model watched as you would turn and head in the opposite direction. It almost felt like you were avoiding him, but that couldn't be right?

......could it?

Over the last couple of weeks, you felt like you could breathe again, but despite that, you didn't feel happy. You couldn't bring yourself to talk to Vil, so you did the next best thing you could think of.

You avoided him.

And that alone was painful. You missed his voice, his company, and when you saw that look of surprise in his eyes when you obviously avoided him cause pain to shoot through your chest.

Despite all of these feelings, you knew the relationship you had with Vil wasn't healthy. You couldn't constantly keep up with his approval, and you wanted him to accept you for who you were.

Faults and all.

"Y/N."

Hearing the very voice you were thinking of calling out your name caused you to freeze. In that small moment, your fight or flight senses went off, but before you could make up your mind, you felt Vil grab your hand.

"Do you have a moment? I need to talk with you." Vil asked as he had noticed that look in your eyes that you might run, so he did his best to cut off your options to do so.

You paused as you considered his question. While you weren't ready to talk about this, you got the feeling you never would be, so you decided to just nod your head as the popular model led you towards his room for some privacy.

Once alone in Vil's room, you glanced around the familiar setting and scent.

"What's going on?" Vil asked, getting to the point.

At the question, you turned to look back at him without answering the question. You could feel that nasty and unpleasant bubble building up in the center of your chest. Did he really not know?

"You've been avoiding me, and I think it's only fair that you explain why." Vil said in his usual confidence.

Feeling that tightness in your chest, you wrapped your arms around yourself as you lowered your head.

"Y/N, if you slouch like that, it will be bad for-" Vil had started to say but stopped when he heard you mutter something. "Speak up. Muttering is very unbecoming."

"This!" You snapped, which caused the blonde to jump as he was startled by your sudden outburst. "The constant complaining and everything!"

Vil froze as he watched your beautiful [colored] eyes glare at him as fresh tears welled up in them.

"I'll never be good enough for you! Why can't you just accept me for who I am? I can't keep being with you as you constantly put me down!"

"Putting you down? I-" Vil said, surprised, but his words got cut off in his throat when he watched you storm over towards him.

"Maybe think a bit harder before you finish that sentence." You said as you told yourself you wouldn't apologize for getting your feelings out. "Not everyone is perfect, Vil. Not everyone can be like you....."

The model just started at you for a moment, but before he could speak, he watched as you walked past him and out of the room. Now alone, Vil just frowned. He had never seen you like this before, and your words echoed in his head.

He didn't put you down. He would never do something like that to you....right? You were the only person (outside of Rook) who he could be himself around. He adored your company...

Taking a deep breath, Vil left his room as he headed towards his vice housewarden room. If anyone could help him right now, it would be Rook.

The next day, you decided not to go to classes as you stayed crawled up on your bed. While you did feel better getting your feelings out, you felt sad at the fact that you might lose your friendship with Vil.

It was weird how the world "friendship" had changed for you over time as you started to notice a change in your feelings, but it wasn't something you were ready to drive into it.

Hearing a knock on your door, you let out a moan as you pulled your blankets over your head. "Go away." You called out as you figured it was one of your friends checking up on you. After a couple of seconds of silence, you thought they had left, but instead, you heard your door open. Holding back another groan, you kept yourself hidden, hoping your friend would get the message that you weren't in the mood to talk.

"Staying in and resting is important."

Instead of your friends voice, you heard Vil's as you suddenly sat up in your bed and removed the blanket from your head.

Standing in the room was Vil as he closed the door behind him.

"What are you doing here?" You ask as even you could hear the coldness in your tone.

"I came to talk." Vil said as he just smiled softly. "And to apologize."

At this, you gripped the blanket that was resting in your lap. Vil apologizing? That didn't sound right.

Noticing that you weren't moving to kick him out, Vil decided to continue. "I want to apologize for my words. I know it's not an excuse, but I didn't even notice I was saying those....things to you. Or how often."

While Vil was a proud man, he also wasn't that proud to lose someone important to him due to his own mistakes. After talking with Rook, he finally had a good understanding of how he had been treating you. "Perfection..." Vil said with a sigh as he looked off to the side of your room. "...is something that has been pushed on me since a young age, and it appears I've picked up a rather nasty habit. I never meant for my words to make you think you weren't good enough." He said as he walked over towards your bed and took a seat on the side of it. "You're already perfect enough. Just knowing I can be myself around you and knowing you won't judge my imperfections..." Vil said as he reached out and placed his hand over yours that was gripping your blanket.

"...It means the world to me, and I'm sorry for making you feel like you weren't good enough. I understand if you don't want to be around me anymore, but I wanted you to know I never once thought you weren't good enough."

At Vil's words, your eyes widen before you glance down at his hand resting over yours. It was like a weight had been lifted from your chest. "It hurt..." You whispered as you closed your eyes. "I just want to be with you and not to embarrass yo-"

Before you could finish your sentence, you felt Vil gently hand on the back of your head as he slowly pulled you forward into an embrace.

"You've never embarrassed me. I was just wanting what was best for you, and that ended up turning into nagging stepmother's territory." Vil said with a small smile as he tried to lighten the mood. "And I'm sorry I hurt you...."

With your forehead resting against Vil's chest, you let out a long sigh as you took in his warmth. Something about his scent and being next to him always helped you to relax.

"Do you forgive me?" The model asked bearly above a whisper. The longer the silence went, the more he was starting to worry you wouldn't.

"I do...." You said before pulling back to look at Vil. "...but I hold the right to punish you if you make me feel like this again." You said with a playful smile.

"Deal." Vil replied as he mirrored your smile. "I've already spoken with Rook, and I plan on being more mindful. I don't make the same mistake twice."

Taking in a deep breath, you nodded your head.

"Now." Vil said as he suddenly stood up from your bed. "I've cleared my schedule for the rest of the day. How about we watch a movie and catch up a bit?" He asked before holding out his hand to you.

Surprised that Vil cleared HIS schedule for you made that familiar warmth spread through your chest again as you smiled. How you've missed it. "Who am I to turn you down?" You teased softly as you reached out and placed your hand in his.

[honeychamomile1]

Odd One Out

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summary: Reader feels invisible around the Pogues.

Warnings: Crying, feeling strongly excluded, comfort, mention of disease, etc.

Note: I know this wasn’t part of my “Future Stories” post, but it’s been a side story for too long so I decided to post it! Hope you like it!

Masterlist

“I’m tellin’ ya, pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza, that’s uh,” Pope chuckled at the silly conversation of debate whether the topping belongs on the delicious food or not before finishing his sentence, “the end of discussion. Debate closed.”

The whole room was still trying to wear off its laughter, a few people still going off in a fit before calming down again.

The girl was laughing too, just a lot softer and less full of….what’s the word….happiness.

Most of the time she didn’t know what the jokes were about, or the little references they would whisper to each other were on the topic of. It didn’t help the fact that she was sitting away from the majority of the group, the one sitter arm chair away from the couch they crowded.

She still remembers the encounter of them practically pushing her away from the group, forcing her to sit on the chair alone. She had walked in with them, all of them still laughing at some joke JJ said but of course she couldn’t get a word in on what he spoke at all, for she was always in the back of the group anyhow. The friends had walked in the house, one by one plopping on the couch or on the floor in front of it, so there wasn’t a single little space for her to squeeze in.

If she thought back deeper and shut her eyes, she could still feel the stare they laid upon her, waiting to see her point of action towards the matter. It was almost like they didn’t like her, like if she went near one of the particular that very person would be the unlucky girl or boy to have to deal with her for the rest of the hang out.

So yeah, her cheeks flushed deep red as she stumbled over crossed legs and ankles towards the back of the room, muttering soft pathetic apologies before sitting in the very chair she is sitting in now.

Now it wasn’t so bad, just that she was in the back, meaning all she could see were backs of heads and once in a while profiles. So the bit of participation she wished she had was no longer available, so now she was sitting in the chair, her legs crossed apple sauce style so they wouldn’t accidentally kick someone.

JJ was so close. So close that all she had to do in order to talk to him was tap him on the shoulder. He would turn around and talk to her and smile, giving her one of those blue eye sparkles. Maybe then she’d-

If she kept thinking like this she’d never be able to participate in the conversation. So she forced out a chuckle, trying to ease herself in.

Maybe she could squeeze her own voice in with all the others? If there’s room for them there has to be room for her too, right?

“One time I went to a pizza shop and-“

Her voice dyed out, the response being absolutely nothing. No eye contact, no expression change, not even a glance from anyone, almost like they didn’t even hear her.

She was speaking loud enough, the same volume of everyone else, but she also didn’t want to talk over the whole group just for a grab of attention.

So the conversation she wasn’t included in continued, someone else’s voice covering hers.

That someone else being Kiera, who of course everyone has to pay attention to. “Yeah, I agree, no more pineapple on pizza talk, maybe we should get actual pizza.” She suggested, and everyone loved the sound of that.

So did she, her stomach being the other thing she was thinking about besides the fact she wasn’t being included. She got up with the others, heading out the door behind JJ.

If she just tapped him on the shoulder-

He closed the door. Maybe he didn’t see her, since there was a corner to go around before exiting the house, but he didn’t forget about her, right?

She stared at the closed door, the past events causing small tears to arise in her eyes.

No.

She can’t cry just because someone closed the door in her face. It was such a small thing, a small action of a mistake he might’ve made. She almost expected him to come back, staring at the handle to see if it would twist, awaiting his face to pop in and apologize for the little thing he did.

But he never came.

She took a sharp breath in, reaching forward for the handle herself and leaving the house.

The group was outside piling into the Twinkie, talking about. She went to the side door too, hoping she could squeeze in somewhere.

But all the seats were full, and all the pitiful eyes were on her.

“Oh, there’s no room. Maybe you could drive in your car and meet us there?” Sarah suggested, and it was the first time that day they spoke directly to her. And it should’ve been something she enjoyed, like a little invitation to join the conversation or an offer to squeeze next to someone, them willing to be a little bit uncomfortable just so she could join.

But it was something she wished didn’t happen, because why did she even go to the side of the car in the first place? Did she really think there would be room for her?

“Or someone could squeeze over..?” Sarah trailed off, looking over at the rooms of people, and the girl couldn’t help but notice how John B moved closer to the edge with the window, covering a small space. Her heart broke.

“Or ya could sit on my lap, Princess.” She heard JJ chuckle, and she glanced at him, her broken little heart believing him for a second, her cheeks softly flushing, before realizing it was a joke. Some people laughed, Kie smacking JJ on the arm but there was a smirk on her lips.

The girl cleared her throat awkwardly, fiddling with her hands, all eyes still on her.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna go anymore, I’ll just go home…I’m not feeling so well.” She had to come up with some excuse, some ticket to get out of there, not like they would miss her at all.

She just walked away, heading to the sidewalk to walk home. Alone.

No one wished her well, despite her lie, but she still wished to at least get a “get well soon” or a “goodbye”.

Nothing. Just pity looks as she walked away, not long before chatter filled the car once more and they drove off.

She didn’t feel like eating anymore, despite her stomach yelling at her because she missed the only chance to eat; they would probably make her pay for her own meal anyway.

So she headed home, arms crossed as tears finally made their way down her cheeks. It hurt, the concept of not being included. She was the nickel out of all the pennies. They were all tan skin and smiles, considering themselves lucky because they found each other, very similar to being lucky when you find a penny. But she was all silver and plain, having a different engraving on her and being a different size than everyone else; they were all small and sweet, yet she was the biggest fool out of all of them.

She hated being a nickel. What did she have to do to be a penny?

She didn’t know, and that right there made her cry harder. She wiped at the tears but nothing worked, for whole rivers were already down her face by now. Her heart cracked, she felt it, because she knew if John B moved over just a little there would be enough room for her to sit with them.

But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to sit next to her, like she was some sort of disgusting disease that he didn’t want to catch.

All she wanted was to be included, to feel loved and fit in by them. But she’ll always be the odd one out.

She fell asleep crying, and woke up hungry since she skipped dinner the day before.

She got out of bed, seeing her red-eyed self in the mirror while brushing her teeth.

She decided to go out today, to JJ’s house.

Now, it didn’t seem like a good decision, but she needed comfort and he was the only person she knew that would provide it. Maybe she would tell him how she’s feeling, not the crying all the way home part, and he would assure her he likes her in the group.

At least that’s what her brain told her he’d say.

Because her mother wouldn’t understand, plus she had other things to deal with, and she didn’t want to bother her father with all the work loads he had on his mind.

But JJ, he was the shiniest penny of all of them, and he seems like the only person to trust. Sadly she didn’t forget about the joke he made the day prior, suggesting she sat on his lap, but it was a one time thing and he could’ve been peer pressured to make it.

That’s what her brain kept telling her.

But the morning was sunny and warm, practically begging for her to enjoy it so she couldn’t refuse.

She put on some Jean shorts and a sun shirt, putting some knitted bracelets on her wrist because she saw everyone else wearing one; plus they were fun to make.

She had made one for JJ, his two favorite colors she overheard him reveal tied into the bracelet. She was gonna bring it to his house, maybe have the courage to give it to him.

She got to his house on foot, spotting his blob of blonde hair behind his car hood, where it normally was.

She shyly made her way over, gazing at his car to pass time. She liked how rusty it was, showing its age but it was still quite clean, like it was his prize possession. (It probably was)

“She looks good, doesn’t she?”

She flinched, looking over at him and making eye contact. His blues were something she admired, but looking directly into them overwhelmed her so she looked away. He chuckled.

One of the main reasons why she went to him was because JJ was the type of person who could talk to anybody. He knew the words to say or the way to talk to make the person comfortable (friend wise that is.)

She hoped he would do just that while he talks to her, and so far so good.

She nodded in response, hands in her back pockets of her shorts and fiddling with the bracelet she made him.

“Yeah, looks great.” She assured, despite the fact that she knew he already knew that, but then again it was all worth the smirk he gave in response, leaning back into the hood.

“What’s wrong with it?” She had the courage to ask, hands out of her pockets now and fingers fiddling together.

He shook his head. “Absolutely nothin’, just had to replace the engine.”

She smiled softly at that, glad that there wasn’t anything severely wrong with his car. “That’s good.”

He nodded, clearly half listening but she knew it was only because he was so focused on the task at hand.

They fell into silence for a little bit, and she was kinda glad he didn’t ask why she was there, mainly because she needed time to build up the courage to start the topic.

“Hey, JJ?” She blurted out, forcing her lips to move. Her heart started beating quite quickly. He looked up at her briefly at the acknowledgment before glancing back down, letting her know he was listening.

“Mm?” He hummed.

“Um,” she started, fiddling with her hands harder than before and trying to ignore the surprisingly annoying racing of her heart. “I noticed yesterday-“

“You noticed the toilet paper I put on John B’s shoe? You didn’t tell him, did you?” He interrupted, his eyes sparkling as he looked at her. She’s always wanted an eye sparkle from him, that meant the topic was mischievous and exciting for him.

But now wasn’t the time, for she needed to get to the point before her courage wore off. “Well, no, I didn’t tell him, but-“

He let out a sigh of relief. “Good, I wanted it to be there when we went to get pizza, which…”

He slowly trailed off, realizing she wasn’t there when they went out.

She swallowed nervously, feeling her cheeks flush. “Yeah, whatever, anyway, I really need to talk to you about something.”

She was satisfied that she could get that sentence out, for the courage in her chest hasn’t left yet.

His face drew back, twisting with confusion but he looked okay with it. “Okay, what’s up, sugar?” He said casually, leaning back down and popping the old engine out, lifting it before placing on the ground.

Her cheeks flushed red at the nickname, but brushed it off so she could stay on task. She kept telling herself that talking to him would help, so she really wanted to get her point across.

“Um, well, I’m feeling a bit, I don’t know, like I don’t…belong.”

The word: belong. It was something she always wanted to do, something she would die just for a taste of being it. It was something she so wanted to be that she held the word close to her heart, holding onto it tightly so it wouldn’t leave her. It was slowly fighting back against her grip ever since she met the group, yet she wanted friends so badly she kept trying.

She stared at JJ to see his reaction, watching as he lifted the new engine towards the car hood. He must have felt her stare because why else would he look up, eyes looking as clueless as ever.

“Did you say something?” He said, scratching his head, closing the hood.

“What?” She pathetically whispered, tears welling up but she blinked them away. She cleared her throat. “N-no, I didn’t say anything. I was gonna say I made this for you.”

Her voice was soft and helpless, setting the bracelet on the now closed hood of the car after taking it out of her pocket. He stared at it, eyes softening slightly before looking up, meeting her glossy eyes.

“I-I hope you like it,” She said, voice thick and her lips were quivering, tears so close to bursting themselves out.

“Woah, what’s wrong?” He said, stepping around his car and reaching for her, but she snatched her wrist out of his reach.

“You weren’t listening to me!” She sputtered. “Just like everyone else.”

“I’m sorry.” Was all he could get out because he was in shock at her outburst. Normally she is the quiet cute girl in the corner, now her eyebrows were furrowed in anger and her cheeks were red. Smoke was practically coming out of her ears.

“Sorry?” She quoted. “I have been feeling like this for weeks, and I finally had the courage to talk to someone, that someone being you of all people because I had a speck of hope that you would listen but when I do you can’t do that just this once?!”

“Feeling like what?” He said- almost demanded- his eyebrows furrowing. She threw her arms in the air in asasperation at his response, like out of the whole outburst she expressed the only thing he heard was that little part. “Does it even matter?” She almost yelled. “You had one chance to listen and you didn’t take it. If you cared you would’ve listened.”

“I do care, sugar,” he desperately assured. “I didn’t know you needed my full attention. I should’ve listened, and I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t even matter anymore, forget about it, JJ,” she said, wiping her cheeks before turning away.

“No no talk to me, princess. I’m listening I promise,” he whispered, dirty fingers curved around her wrist.

She turned to him, desire for someone to listen to her was strong.

Once he knew she wasn’t gonna leave, he let go of her wrist, the warmth from his touch leaving her. She fiddled with her fingers, looking into his eyes that seemed so sincere.“You promise?”

He nodded almost instantly. “I promise.”

He even held out his pinkie to her, making her laugh but seal the promise nonetheless.

The rest of the morning they sat and talked, JJ’s smile as big as ever and the threads tied around his wrist.

She laughed.

Laughed.

And she actually got to hear his jokes for once. The ones she missed, misheard, and never repeated for her.

And those sounds were as genuine as they could get, her heart singing as he gave her a real eye twinkle.

It was at that moment her heart fell, fell hard for the boy next to her.

And at their next hangout she didn’t have to sit on the chair alone like she normally does, for now she got to see on Maybank’s lap (as offered) as she laughed with the group and got to have her say.

She felt loved. Felt like she was included.

And, most important of all, she felt belonged.

-Tell me what you think? 🫶🏻

[system-to-the-madness]

Secret Notes and Misunderstandings - Sugawara Kōshi x Reader

Pairing: Sugawara Kōshi x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: fluff Word Count: 3 420 Warnings: Use of y/n, Tanaka and Noya Summary: You receive secret notes from someone. If only they were from your crush Suga A/N: I’m not really happy with the style of this one…

Masterlist

It had to be every schoolgirl’s dream, receiving cute notes written by a secret admirer, pushed into her locker every morning. And the notes were cute, they really were. Never creepy or offensive, just sweet.

It had started almost a month ago. One morning you had opened your locker, only to find a small note fluttering out. Not recognizing it, you had unfolded the paper that seemed to have been ripped from a Kanji exercise book. In an unfamiliar handwriting, using what seemed like a fine 0.3mm black ink pen, a few words had been scribbled down, making a smile pull at your lips.

“I’m too shy to tell you this in person, but your presentation on the United Nations yesterday was crazy good.”

You had folded the note back together, and placed it in your pencil case, where it made you smile every time you glanced at it.

“You’re in a good mood today,” Sugawara, your classmate, had grinned when he had passed you during lunch break on this way to the sink.

You had shrugged, your heart beating faster when you had realized that Suga had addressed you. The feeling that ran through your body at every interaction with him was so different from the feelings the note had sparked, so much better.

The notes had started that day, and there had not been one day of school since then, that there hadn’t been one shoved into your locker in the morning. Over time they had gotten more personal, leaving less and less doubt about the author’s attraction to you. He (and you knew it was a guy by the words he used), was never offensive or creepy, just plainly sweet, complimenting the hair clip you had worn the other day, or sometimes even admitting how he wished he would be brave enough to talk to you normally, without these notes.

And the more he revealed his own thoughts, his own insecurities and wishes, the more he revealed of his heart, the worse you felt. The notes were cute, sweet, and normally you would have been dying to know who went through all the effort just for your sake. Maybe you would have been trying to find out who it was and asked them out, just because you felt like after all the effort he had made, he deserved you take a risk too.

But no matter how much you wanted to feel excited and honoured by these notes, there was still Suga. Suga who was in the same class as you and your mysterious admirer, Suga who was working hard in every subject, who helped the other students when they struggled, who laughed loud and unashamedly in the breaks, who’s smile was warm like summer sun beams, even when it was only late February. So really it was Sugawara’s fault, you thought to yourself, that you couldn’t reciprocate the feelings these notes conveyed. If it weren’t for your stupid, stupid, unrequited crush on him, you’d have tried to get into contact with the author of these notes weeks ago. But your heart was hopelessly hung up on someone else, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself to let these feelings go.

So, when you stared down on what had to be the boldest note yet, you felt a little sick.

"I've been trying to work up the courage to ask you to sit with me for lunch for weeks now, but every time I think about getting up and asking you, I get so nervous that I can't even think properly anymore. Maybe I’ll ask you tomorrow. I want to make salmon onigiri, I know you like those. What do you think?"

The nervousness of the author as he had written these words and then pushed the note into your locker was basically seeping out of the paper into your hands, pleading you to be as nervous about him as he was about you. But instead, you knew he was just setting himself up for heartbreak. This had to stop. Now. You had allowed this boy to bring up his hopes for far too long now. You had to end this. Even if it would hurt him. Even when you would feel awful for breaking his heart.  But it was better to end this now than to have him work up the courage to face you and then tell it into his face.

Although he did deserve a gentle let down, he didn’t deserve to torture himself before it. So, after your last class, you ripped out a page of your notebook and grabbed one of your pens. During class, between paying attention to the teachers’ words and the way Suga was bouncing his leg under the table on the other side of the classroom, you had mentally prepared what you wanted to write.

“Dear friend, thank you very much for all the notes over the past weeks. I have enjoyed reading them, but I’m sorry to tell you that I can’t reciprocate your feelings. I already have someone I like, and it wouldn’t be fair to let you keep hoping I will return your feelings. In fact, I should have told you this a lot sooner, and I’m sorry for the pain I’m causing you now. Let this be the last exchange.”

You had been tempted to add words of reassurance or comfort, but you were worried they might make him hope against hope that you would eventually return his feelings. When the last class was over, you used a thin strip of washi-tape and stuck the note to your locker so it was blocking the little gap in the door. This way the note couldn’t possibly go unnoticed by whoever had sent you the others.

The next morning rolled around, and you were almost nervous, when you took off your shoes and placed them in the rack, going to your locker to grab your books for the day. The note you had stuck to its door the day prior was gone, and you already feared someone else might have removed it, but when you opened the locker, no new note came sailing out. You were almost a little disappointed. But you had asked him to stop writing, so you had gotte what you wanted. This was for the best. Let him be disappointed or maybe even a little heartbroken, and by next week he would have moved on.

When you entered the classroom, you found, much to your surprise, that yesterday’s note hadn’t been the last. Instead, someone had placed two wrapped onigiri on your table, and a note underneath. Up until now, the paper had always been torn neatly out of notebooks, the signs evenly paced and written with precision. This time, even though it was the by now familiar handwriting, the page seemed to have been ripped out in haste, the words smeared over the paper, smudging the ink.

“I already made these, and I thought you should have them. If you don’t want them, leave them on the desk during lunch break and I’ll take them back. This is my last note. Thanks for your honesty.”

You bit your lip, staring down at the paper. You could tell his hand had shaken when he had written this note. While nervousness had seeped out of the other notes, this one seemed to ooze pain. He’ll get over it, you thought to yourself, over me.

Quickly you crumbled the note in your hand, pushing the onigiris to the edge of the table, not intending to eat them. With a few steps you made your way to the paper basked, discarding the final note of your secret admirer. On your way back to your desk, your eyes skipped over to where Suga was sitting, as always when you got the chance.

He sat backsided on a chair, arms crossed over the backrest, chin propped on his lower arm. He had taken off his jacket, leaving him in the short sleeved, white button-up of the uniform. Warm spring sunlight flitted in through the window, catching in his silver hair and making it gleam like star light. He looked angelic, you thought to yourself. Even though Daichi was telling him something, and laughing at his side, Suga barely seemed to listen, his gaze absentmindedly directed into the distance. He looked pale, you realized, pale and tired. Hopefully he wouldn’t get sick in the last weeks of the school year.

Suddenly his gaze drew away from wherever he had stared of to, and directed itself to you instead. You felt like your heart almost stopped at the way his coffee brown eyes bore into you, and feeling your cheeks heat up, you lifted your hand to wave at him with a smile. Instead of returning the gesture, he only seemed to tense, before tearing his eyes away from you and sitting up, saying something to Daichi instead.

Confused at his unusual reaction, you walked back to your seat, sitting down. The onigiri in front of you seemed to mock you, and far more frequent than usually your gaze flickered over to Suga during the day. His mood didn’t seem to better though, and in fact it grew only grimmer when he caught you staring at him once.

You were not the only one who seemed to pick up on his unusual behaviour, because as the bell rang for lunch break, you overheard Daichi ask him if everything was okay. Suga only answered he was fine, even though he sounded upset and annoyed, but the rest of the conversation got drowned out by the voices of other students.

Like every day, you left the classroom at the beginning of lunchbreak to refill your bottle at the water fountain in the hallway. Today you made sure to take an extra few minutes; hopefully giving the author of the notes you had received enough time to retrieve the onigiri from your desk. And sure enough, by the time you returned to the classroom, they were gone.

The rest of the day went by without any other incidents, unless one counted Suga’s terrible mood. Even across the classroom it seemed to rub off on you. Originally you had wanted to pay closer attention to the other boys, trying to see if anyone’s behaviour differed from usually which might give them away as the author of the messages, but instead your focus was entirely on Suga and what you could do to cheer him up.

When the last class ended, and you still hadn’t thought of anything useful to say to Suga, you just opted for a wave and a smile, as you usually did, bidding him goodbye before heading off to your club. But unlike all the other days, he ignored you completely, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth and your heart heavy.

It was already growing dark outside when you hasted through the corridors of the school again. Your club had finished only a few minutes ago, when you had remembered there was a book you needed for homework, so you were on your way back to the lockers. You had almost reached them, when suddenly the voices of two students made you stop.

“He explicitly said not to get involved,” the one nagged.

“But have you seen him? Can you really just stand by and watch him suffer like that,” the other voice replied.

Carefully you snuck around the last corner, finding two boys standing in front of your locker. Even in the dim light you could make out the one’s buzzcut and the other’s unruly hair. They were both in the year below you, you realized, and members of the volleyball team, teammates of Suga’s. The one with the unruly hair was trying to push a piece of paper through the gap below the door into your locker.

You were about to ask them what they were up to. After all, neither of them couldn’t have been the one writing the notes you had received; that person was in your class. You knew that from the references to your classwork he had been making.

“You know, he’s gonna hate you when he finds out you got involved.”

“So what, let him hate me! As long as he gets his girl! (Y/n) just has to give him a second chance!”

“Who am I supposed to give a second chance,” you asked out loud, stepping out from behind the corner.

The two boys jumped in surprise as your presence, the one with the unruly hair, quickly hiding a piece of paper behind his back.

“Well, you see, the thing is our set-,” he started, immediately receiving a harsh nudge from his friend.

“And what were you trying to push into my locker,” you added. Usually you were not very intimidating, but being a year older than them had its perks: they had to respect you. Demanding, you held out your hand.

The boy with the blond streak in this dishevelled hair shot his friend a side glance before stepping forward and dropping the paper into your outstretched hand.

“Have you been the ones putting notes into my locker,” you asked.

“Yes, well, no. Maybe. Sometimes,” the boy with the buzzcut answered. Tanaka, you remembered.

“What is it now. Have you or have you not?”

“Sometimes,” the other one – Nuka? Nayo? Noya? Oh yes, Noya was his name – answered. “Sometimes we delivered them for our friend, when you had club late and there was the chance of you running into Su-“

He got interrupted by another shove between his ribs. He coughed.

Biting your lip, you twirled the paper between your fingers. You could find out who had sent you all these notes, you realized. You just had to ask now. Tanaka would probably be quiet, but Noya seemed eager to make you like whoever had sent them to deliver them. But did you want to know? Did you really want to go to class tomorrow, look at the person who had written these notes and pretend you didn’t know?

“Please,” Tanaka interrupted your thoughts. “Can’t you give our friend a chance? We know you like someone else, but you’ll forget about that guy in no time, I promise! Our friend is like- he’s the best guy there is really. He’s smart, and patient, and funny-”

“Charming, good-looking, athletic,” Noya continued. “A little chaotic sometimes maybe, but he has like the biggest heart-”

You shook your head. “Listen guys, Tanaka-kun, Noya-kun. I appreciate your effort and I know you just want to see your friend happy, but as I already wrote him: there is someone else I like, and it wouldn’t be right to let your friend hope that my feelings will change eventually. That’s just not fair.”

“But you should’ve seen him today during practice,” Noya continued. “He was not himself! He was devastated! And Suga’s ready to let you walk away because he respects you, but I- we think-”

“Wait, wait,” you lifted your hands in the air, signalling him to stop talking. Your heart was racing. “Say that again.”

“He respects you and-”

“No, you said his name,” you disagreed.

The boys exchanged glances.

“He’ll kill you,” Tanaka mumbled to Noya.

“Did you say Suga,” you asked.

Their silence was answer enough.

All this time you had wanted Suga to notice you and all this time it had been him who had sent you these notes? And then you had rejected him? Was that why he had been so pale today, why he hadn’t smiled at you today? Because you had rejected him, not even knowing who you had rejected? Your heart dropped and the floor felt like it was giving way beneath your feet. You had to fix that. Somehow you had to fix this stupid, stupid situation.

“Do you have a pen?”

Tanaka rummaged around in his pocket, before handing you a blunt pencil. You took it anyway. Unfolding the paper you had taken from Noya, you placed it against the closest locker, flipping it to its empty side.

“What’s Suga’s favourite onigiri filling,” you asked, glancing at Tanaka and Noya from over your shoulder.

“Salmon,” they answered at the same time without hesitation.

You furrowed your brows. “Are you sure?”

“We talked about it just the other day,” Tanaka assured you.

“He said, he likes them because you like them,” Noya added. You exhaled slowly, trying not to laugh. This sounded so much like something Suga would say.

Putting the pen down, you began writing.

“Noya and Tanaka ranted you out. Don’t be mad at them, I made them tell me. Let’s eat lunch together. I’ll make salmon onigiri, I know you like those. We can eat outside under the plum tree. The blossoms are your favourite, aren’t they?”

Quickly, before you could change your mind, you folded the paper, and pushed it into Suga’s locker, making the two boys exchange wide eyed glances.

“What did you write,” they asked excitedly as you returned to your locker to retrieve the book you had come here for.

“Are you giving him a second chance?”

“You’ll see,” you answered with a smile.

The next morning, Suga was already sitting in the classroom when you entered, like he did every morning. When he saw you sitting down behind your own desk, he quickly exchanged a few words with Daichi, before walking over.

Pink was dusting his cheeks, the colour almost matching that of the plum blossoms outside. He was nervous, you could tell, fiddling around with a piece of paper between his fingers. Watching him walk over, your own pulse spiked. Yesterday you had been filled with confidence when you had written the note, but today it all seemed unreal. That was until he dropped the small piece of paper on the desk in front of you, leaning against the table.

For a moment you looked up at him, his chocolate brown eyes nervous but also filled with warmth as he glanced down to you, then you reached for the paper. He had rolled it into a tight scroll, probably an act of nervosity while he had waited for you. For the first time the note didn’t contain any words, only a doodled Smilie. The smile on your face was instantaneous, and quickly you looked back up to Suga, who was full on blushing now.

“I know, I said I’d stop it with the notes, but…” he shrugged bashfully, making you laugh quietly.

“No, that’s okay,” you let him know.

“I do gotta ask though- not that I’m complaining, just curious – what changed your mind?”

He’s still smiling, but you could hear the insecurity in his voice as well.

Inhaling deeply, you settled for the truth. “Turned out the guy I rejected was actually the guy I was rejecting him for.”

Suga just furrowed his brows in confusion.

“What I mean is,” you shuffled in your seat a little, wondering if the words would come any easier if you sat differently or if Suga weren’t nailing you to the chair with the intensity with which he was considering you now. “You’re the guy I was talking about in that note, the person I like. I didn’t know you were also the person sending me these notes.”

Finally, the last bit of hesitation seemed to melt away from Suga. “Lucky then, that I like you, too,” he teased, making your heart stutter and his cheeks tint an even deeper pink. “Sooo, are we eating lunch together?"

You nodded. “I made onigiri, like promised. Is salmon really your favourite filling?”

Suga laughed. “Yeah, it is. Always has been, since I was little.”

He was about to say something else, but was interrupted by the teacher, calling the beginning of the class.

Quickly he pushed away from your desk, winking at you mischievously. This Suga was so very different from the disappointed, heartbroken Suga from yesterday. You knew exactly which one you preferred. He turned around and hurried back to his desk, but not before dropping another note to your table, this one folded several times.

As the teacher began the class, you quickly unfolded the paper under your desk, reading the few words Suga had written down. This time they were a lot neater than the note he had left with the rejected onigiri the day prior.

“I mean it. I really like you too.”

And underneath he had drawn a tiny, almost hesitant doodle of a heart.

[thepixelelf]

warnings: coarse language. jihoon is so in love it's probably unhealthy. wc: 1092

love triangle au requests

[who's this guy who's everything I'm not?] There is a universe out there where Lee Jihoon is able to say everything he wants to say, when he wants to say it, and exactly how he wants to say it.

But that universe isn't this one.

No, in this world, Lee Jihoon is standing like an idiot in front of the person he came all this way for, in a city he's never stepped foot before, with his mouth opening and closing like those dogs moviemakers would give peanut butter to to make them look like they're talking.

"Jihoon," you say, blinking as if it'll make the mirage he must be disappear. "Holy-- What are you doing here? When did you..."

From your open doorway, you tilt your head to take in Jihoon's appearance. Sweaty. Floundering, and yet with a determined furrow between his eyebrows.

His passport and boarding pass in hand, and a distinct lack of luggage.

"...Did you just fly in?"

He opens his mouth. Closes it again.

God damn it. He got on a plane for this and his tongue still doesn't work -- the same way it didn't when you asked who left the only valentine on your desk in eighth grade. The same way it didn't when your prom date ditched you for some girl, and you finally told Jihoon after his three weeks of torment that it was a ruse you and your date came up with to get that girl jealous all along. The same way it didn't when you told him you applied to a university in a city he'd never even heard of, and to your surprise but not his own because he knows you're capable of anything, you got in.

Today should be different. He clamours, "I-- I had to..."

"Where's your stuff?" you ask incredulously, but there's always... that behind your words. That which made him feel like he could trust you to watch his intricate sand castle in the playground. That which made him go to you with his first ever song lyrics in middle school, when no one else has ever seen them, ever. That which he feels vibrating in his bones or maybe even deeper because you care. You care when you go, "Do you literally only have the clothes on your back?" Even if it sounds blunt. "I swear you've had those shorts since forever. And-- wait, where are you staying? Have you eaten? You're always stupid about hydration, too."

He wants you to shut up so he can talk. But god, he loves when you tell him you care in the most words possible.

"I gotta put some water in you, hold on--"

You go to back up from the doorway. Jihoon's hand shoots out to grab your wrist before he can think about the fact that now that he has you in his grasp, he definitely has to speak.

Shit.

You process his hand around your wrist slowly, your eyes blinking slowly like a cat before they look up at his face. He loses all thoughts again.

Well, not all. It's more like his brain fills to the brim with how your eyes look when your face is this close, and it literally can't fit anything else, much less what to say next other than wow.

And he probably shouldn't say that.

But what... (the sunlight is hitting your irises so perfectly) ...should he... (even the concern seeping into your expression is cute) ...say...

"Jihoon--?"

Whatever question you're sure to have asked is cut off when a strong hand separates Jihoon's from your arm, and he breaks his gaze away from you to see a handsome but clearly unwelcoming face. The man regards Jihoon with a certain cautiousness as he wedges himself between you and him, almost pushing you back into your home with a protective arm.

"Are you okay?" he asks you, though he doesn't take his wary eyes off Jihoon. "Who's this?"

You seem a little thrown off. "Uhh..."

Jihoon looks this man up and down, taking in his white tank top and the buff, tan arms that it shows off. His cropped hair isn't styled, but somehow it looks good on him anyway. He's tall.

Annoyingly tall, because to see you, Jihoon has to lean to the side rather than just look over Tank Top's shoulder.

"Who's this?" Jihoon asks right back.

You meet his eyes and come back to the here and now. "Right, uh." Poking your finger into the man's stupid naked bicep, you point at him. "This is Mingyu, my--"

Tank Top interrupts you with, "Husband," as soon as you say, "--roommate."

Your pointed hand transforms into a fist, and you punch it into Tank Top Mingyu's arm. "Hey," you say when he recoils, covers the apparently instantly sore spot, and pouts at you. "I'm fine-- He's an old friend."

But Jihoon can't really focus on that. He's too busy processing.

...

...

...

Husband?

"This is Jihoon," your voice says from somewhere far away. "I've probably mentioned him before."

"Oh." Tank Top straightens up, and after faltering for only a second, his eyes brighten like your words flipped a light switch. "That Jihoon?" He turns towards Jihoon. "Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry! I just thought, I mean, you know..."

This new Mingyu acts like one of those golden retriever boys from the internet.

You love dogs.

Fuck.

Puppy Mingyu holds out his hand to shake.

Jihoon just stares at it. Then looks at you.

"Husband?"

You shove your way back in front of Mr Sunshine and lightly touch Jihoon's arm. He can barely breathe. "No, no, that was just... I mean, well, kind of-- but also not really because, well..." Pausing, you think for a moment and torture Jihoon for one million years. "Okay. We're roommates, but Mingyu started telling people at work that he's married so people would stop hitting on him or trying to set him up with their kids... except that was obviously stupid and now I'm kind of caught up in that lie and occasionally picking him up from company gatherings pretending he's my, uh, 'husband'."

"Oh." Jihoon nods slowly; he's underwater, ears plugged. "Okay."

Mingyu drops his hand after a couple seconds of zero reciprocation. "Haha, uhm, anyways... Did you want to come in?"

"Oh." Jihoon nods again. "Okay."

Your touch on Jihoon's arm becomes a little stronger. "You look a little pale. Come in and let me get you that water, yeah?"

"Oh." Yeah. "Okay."

As Jihoon ambles into your home -- your shared home with some guy who introduced himself as your husband but isn't your husband but chose you to be in his marriage but it's a fake marriage but -- he wants to say the things he's always wanted to say. Fuck, he's been wanting and wanting forever.

But he can't.

Not only because he can't form the words; that's been his problem since the beginning and was supposed to be his last hurdle today.

No.

He can't because your fake husband smiled at you in front of him.

And that smile looked nothing like a lie.

--

part 2 (mingyu's pov)

[moodymisty]

Hello I hope you are having a good week! I love your blog and anons so much <3 (The Horus feet post lives rent free in my head)

Your hc about Sanguinius having a secret possessive streak activated a neuron in my brain because its been stuck in my head for days and Im completely normal about him I promise :') my request:

His possessiveness rearing its head unexpectedly for the first time. To the point it even surprises him with how grumpy it makes him feel. His lover had only really been around him and his sons since theyd gotten together so he is caught off guard by this sudden anger.

She is meeting a few of his brothers for the first time at some kind of meeting and she laughing and smiling with Vulkan or maybe Fulgrim is being a little TOO friendly with her and Sanguinius just feels this red hot rage rip thru him without warning.

He goes to his lover and tensely bids his brother goodbye and herds her back to their shared quarters for some totally-normal-not-jealous-at-all sex (and a little bitey blood drinking) leaving her a total mess

If this is too specific, grumpy possessive vampire pigeon boyfriend is all I crave. Angry Sangy hits different...

Author's Note: Tried to write this normally and really struggled, so I decided to do a flashback style just to make it easier on me.

Relationships: Sanguinius/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Rough sex, Biting, Blood play, Possessive behavior

When you first awoke the feeling of lightheadedness overtook you immediately, and you drifted off asleep again for a short while longer.

After you woke for the second time, you noticed your Angel’s absence and leaned up to look around.

The Red Tear has been Sanguinius’ home for quite awhile now, and this trip back to Terra was well deserved. Even if much was unexpected.

A lot had changed in this time away. You first and foremost. He had left Terra with just his legion, and was now returning with a beloved at his side. It was very clear upon his arrival that this was the most interesting news.

Horus had been the first to greet him, giving him a friendly one armed hug. You had tucked yourself behind Raldoron when Sanguinius had waved for you to come forward, and put his hand on your shoulder. Raldoron stood close watch- on edge with an instinctive protectiveness triggered by your nervousness.

“I would like you to meet someone,”

Sanguinius had first told Horus. Horus then went and told Fulgrim. Fulgrim told Ferrus, who then complained to Vulkan. Vulkan was more chaste and didn’t gossip, but did say he was going to meet Sanguinius and his beloved upon passing Jaghatai.

Suddenly then all the Primarchs currently on Terra were crowding around his beloved sniffing around, and Sanguinius was furious.

You had only ever been around him and his sons since he had first fallen in love with you; To see others crowding around looking at you, asking you questions that teeter on the edge of too personal, watching as you struggle to keep your own head and answer without wilting under an unfamiliar primarch aura?

He hated it.

Seeing Vulkan smile at you made him want to throw his spear into his chest.

Seeing Fulgrim put a hand on your shoulder made him want to tear the Phoenician's throat out with his teeth.

Horus’ smile and jokes about you grounding the angel made him watch to wrap his hands around the Warmaster’s neck.

Sanguinius had snatched you and dragged you away the moment he had an opening to, pushing you in the direction of his Terran bedchambers.

'You smell like them.'

His nose wrinkled in disgust.

You should smell like him; The oil on his feathers, the scent of his own sweat and skin. Sometimes you smell like his sons when you are within a close proximity of them for awhile, which is less offensive that what it is currently, but not preferred.

He threw you into the bed, the messy unmade blankets bunching around you as fluffy down flies up. Sanguinius’ quarters are surprisingly messy, and his constant feather losses make the places he spends most a fluffy explosion of down and a few flight feathers.

He never spoke as he caged you under his body, looking down at you with a fierce gaze before his lips trapped your own. You felt the warmth of them, the way his tongue brushed against your lips and demands entry. His fangs are sharp- they nick your lips almost every time he deepens a kiss, and you end up with little droplets of blood on the inside of your waterline.

You can still fell the broken skin this morning, licking your bottom lip.

Something about him snapped, what was normally a gentle and soft man who touched you like you were made of glass suddenly was throwing you around, growling and snorting like little more than an animal.

'S-Sang-'

You could barely even finish his name as his fingers drove deeper into your cunt, and you could tell he was in a rush. Your grit your teeth and moaned, teetering on the knife's edge of pain too intense for you to enjoy, as his hot breath fanned over your skin and his fingers curled and beckoned you from deep inside your cunt. His lips hovered over the large vein of your neck, feeling the pulse of your racing heart just beneath your skin.

When he pulled them out you whimpered at the ache, the way your thighs shook along with your whole body. Sanguinius grabbed your hips and you sucked in air at the intensity, flipping you on your stomach.

'Up.'

When you don't understand his request immediately he gently rapped his hand over your ass and listened to you squeal out after the sound of smacked flesh rang out; Soon after you shifted to push your hips higher in the air for him.

You can still feel the echo of that lingering slap. You lay sideways in bed, wrapped in a thick red blanket trying to ignore the aches. You can still feel in your cunt the soreness as well, more than usual.

The feeling of the fat head of his cock popping past your entrance made you grit your teeth and whine, hands gripping the blankets. Sanguinius kept pushing, listening to your soft noises of half protest until he seated himself fully inside of you and his balls pressed against your clit.

The bruises of his harsh thrusts, hips slapping against your ass and forming a chorus of skin on skin, wet sounds of your cunt tightening and leaking around his cock- are still blossoming, if not in color but in pain.

Normally Sanguinius is gentle enough that you only get a muscle ache at most, but in his lack of self control you now struggle to get out of the bed and get dressed.

‘Their eyes may wander but yours won’t; You are mine.’

You felt the way he thrusts deep into you, slipping through your walls as the tip of his cock knocks against places untouched by everyone but him. The thick base of his cock stretched your entrance far enough that it almost burned, but in an almost pain that had tears pricking at the corner of your eyes and hiccuping moans in your throat.

Sanguinius is rarely rough; But when he is you feel like you can barely survive it, despite your cunt crying for more leaking around him like you’ve never wanted him more.

After he filled you to the brim and had your cunt throbbing with your heart beat from overstimulation, he pulled out of you and listened to the defeated, quiet whine as you feel the stretch from the head of his cock popping out of your entrance.

‘Tilt your head.’

You weakly let him in, feeling his hot skin fan over your own. He bites and listened to the way you hiss, whimpering in pain. He laps at your neck for a few moments before pulling away, finding a spot closer to your shoulder.

He bit again and again, each time enjoying the way your skin broke and blood flooded his mouth. When your eyes watered in pain his hand slipped between your legs to distract you, brushing over your throbbing clit and feeling the way your hole leaks his own cum onto his hand as well as your growing arousal as he toys with you.

Your neck still aches, and your head feels a bit light. You almost stumble walking out of his bedchambers, walking down the hall and wrapped your arms around yourself.

“My lady?”

You hear a familiar voice of the chapter master, who you presume is attempting to find Sanguinius same as you.

He quickly notices your somewhat disheveled state of dress and look, glancing over you curiously. His face is still stoic with only a slight layer of concern and curiosity.

“Are you alright?”

Raldoron comes closer and watches you nearly stumble, before righting yourself. He reaches a hand outward to steady you, but you don’t need it.

“Oh yes I’ll be fine, just tired. It was a long return trip to Terra.

You shift slightly and feel the ache in your neck- wincing in pain. Raldoron’s eyes drift downward, before his expression changes.

He suddenly has trouble making eye contact with you, which is odd. Raldoron is one of the more talkative of the Astartes you know. You reach up to rub your sore neck and feel skin-

You forgot to wear something to cover the marks.

Raldoron can see the full abuse Sanguinus- his genefather - had done to you the evening before, and is awkwardly standing there like it’s eating him alive.

“…Perhaps you should rest some more, my lady.”

Raldoron is clearly trying to avoid the subject, as are you. The sound of much heavier footsteps is like a savior in the darkest of times.

“There you are, my love.”

Sanguinus approaches, looking bright and alert with a lovely smile. He looks like he slept wonderfully, his face fuller and brighter. He greets Raldoron as well, before furrowing his brow as he notices the look on Raldoron’s face and the way you are pulling at the collar of your clothes.

“Is something wrong?”

[nickfowlerrr]

Bellllaaaaa hiiii:)

I’m hooked on biker/bartender bucky(even tattoo artist bucky) with fucking Tats right now and I’d totally love if you could maybe write him and chubby/plus sized reader having a flirty relationship, maybe they’re like a fling or something. She works at his bar/tattoo shop, whichever au you pick, and they’re just fucking flirty and so naughty together lol

Smut is always welcomed!!

Thank u bby in advance<3 mwahhh🥺💋

about how it started..

pairing: bartender!bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. pining. flirting. smut. a little tiny hint of voyeurism/exhibitionism. if i’m missing something pls lmk!

words: 3.1k

notes: thank you, mickey, for sending this and sorry it took so long! i kind of wanted to incorporate more mention of his tattoos but i felt like i kept screwing it up so i kept it very vague - i’m sorry. but i hope you like this! i really love the idea and i’d love to do more with them in the future, too (including more of his tattoos too 🥴), so thank you, thank you, thank you!! 🥰

also this gif isn’t necessarily the bucky i was picturing but the visible tattoo feels right so whatever 😌

i hope you guys enjoy this! thank you in advance for reading and reblogging. as always, feedback and comments are always welcome and so appreciated! 🖤

You know you should be checking tables right now. You know. But goddamn if you can’t take your eyes off of the brawny, blue eyed, six foot something beauty that is Bucky Barnes.

You’re leaning against the far end of the bar, eyes fixed on him with no plans of trailing anywhere else.

He’s making another Sex on the Beach for the less than subtle, leggy, bleach blonde who’s been fawning over him since she got here. When she and the other college girls showed up, seeming to have already been pregaming, you knew tonight wouldn’t be uneventful.

You could obsess over the fact that the twenty one year old, who looked like she stepped right off a runway, was currently pushing her chest out and twirling her perfectly styled hair as she continued rambling on and on to Bucky, but his disinterest was clear to you as he kept a polite smile and entertained her as he finished the drink.

That, and because you had no right or reason to obsess over who was flirting with him and when.

Right?

You pushed the thoughts away as you admired Bucky’s profile. The way some of his hair had fallen out of his bun and hung around his perfectly sculpted face. How his brilliantly blue eyes shone still through the dark strands. And god did you envy his perfectly shaped nose. Your eyes fell to his lips as he smiled at something the girl said, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to care, you were so caught up in the beauty of it. He gave her the drink before he tucked the loose hair behind his ears.

You watched as the girl held out a twenty with a sultry smile and a wink before Bucky took it with a small laugh as she sauntered off back to her friends.

He put it in the cash box and then pushed up his sleeves as he took the time to count out how much the bar had made so far tonight.

You swear your mouth went dry as his tattoos were on display now. The dark ink that told story after story lining his forearm, and though you couldn’t see them right now, led all the way up his strong arm only added to the endless list of things that made him attractive. The artwork was mesmerizing. Just like him.

“You just gonna stare at me your whole shift, sweetheart?” he says to you without looking over, a smirk playing on his lips.

You take in a breath before pushing off the bar and walk over to meet him where he stands.

“Who says I was staring at you?” you question and lean over just slightly to glance at Torres who was pouring shots at the other end of the bar.

Bucky turns to follow your gaze and gives a laugh when he sees who you’re referring to.

“You and Torres, huh?” he plays along, smirk never faltering. He finishes his count and tucks the box back under the bar before he turns fully to you, blocking your view of the younger man completely, not that you cared.

Bucky walks into you, backing you up until you’re forced into the dead corner of the bar. You nearly stop breathing when he leans into you, his cologne invading your senses, his warmth surrounding you as he keeps you trapped between him and the bar, his thick arms on either side of you. Your lips part on an inaudible gasp when his lips brush against your ear.

“He know I was guts deep inside you last night? How you were screaming my name, begging me not to pull out? So fuckin’ desperate to be full‘a me,” he reminds you as his hands find your waist and he squeezes your softness before pulling you flush against him and letting his hands slide down to your ass. “How many times did you come again? I think I lost count,” he taunts as he leans over you and gropes you shamelessly.

You can see out past his shoulder as he nearly nuzzles into your neck, your eyes growing heavy with desire as your lips stay parted in heated awe.

Your eyes meet the blonde Bucky had just served as she looks on in a bit of a stupor before blinking and turning away with a hint of a blush warming her cheeks.

“Watch it, Barnes. You’re gonna lose out on tips if you’re not careful,” you warn playfully, if not a bit breathily.

When he starts kissing your neck, your knees become unsteady as a warmth starts to grow in your tummy.. and lower. Your hands latch onto the front of his shirt in an effort to stay steady.

You’ve noticed he’s been getting more brazen every day, more teasing and touching when he knows full well people can see, and the fact that he really doesn’t seem to care sparks a bit of hope that maybe this could grow into something more than what it started as.

But as Bucky nips and then gently kisses your pulse point, all thoughts fly right out the window as your main focus is solely on not melting into a puddle right then and there.

“Don’t care,” he says against your delicate skin, placing another kiss to your neck before you push him back just slightly. “What?” he asks as a half smile adorns his face when he stands up straight again, looking down at you.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish right now,” you say as you hold his smoldering gaze.

“You think I won’t fuck you right now?” he challenges, his seriousness sending a thrill up your spine.

You let out a nervous, disbelieving laugh as you push him to turn around. “I think you have some patrons waiting for your attention,” you say, ignoring the desire burning deep within at his words.

He sucks his teeth as he walks back over to the lively area of the bar, but not before eyeing you with a look that promises he isn’t done with you tonight.

You watch him back before spinning around and coming out from behind the bar to start checking tables.

—

You’re leaning over a newly emptied table close to the bar when you feel his heavy gaze on you.

The low cut scoop neck of your top already offered a generous view of your cleavage, but as you’re leaning over to wipe the table down, you’re sure he can see right down your shirt. You hide your smirk as you walk around the table and make a show of leaning over once more, your tight black skirt that hugs your tummy riding up your thick thighs as you do. You’d forgone underwear under your opaque black tights and wonder for a second how much he can see as you bend further over the table.

You don’t have much time to wonder as suddenly Bucky is right up behind you. You stand up against him, your ass brushing against his crotch. His hands are on your skirt as he adjusts it back down for you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, voice low and husky.

“Cleaning a table,” you answer innocently as you stay where you are, enjoying the feeling of his large hands on your wide hips and his solid chest at your back.

“Yeah? Cuz from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re purposely being a little tease.”

“Me?” you say in faux offense, turning to face him. “I’d never. Just doing my job, boss.”

He pushes you back against the table just slightly, “So, you’re telling me you haven’t been thinking about how hot it’d be if I came up behind you, ripped your tights open and fucked you stupid right here on this table?”

You swallow hard as you feel yourself growing wet at the scene that plays out in your mind. The bar is near empty as you’re both getting ready to close up but the idea of Bucky taking you right here and now, onlookers be damned, has heat creeping up your skin.

“Say I have. What are you gonna do about it?” you whisper wantonly, eyes swimming with lust.

A sinful growl escapes him as he presses himself closer to you. You can feel his growing bulge against you and it takes everything in you to not let out the whimper that threatens to slip past your lips.

Joaquin left twenty minutes ago after him and Bucky served last call, so it’s just you two and the lingerers who are slowly making their way out.

“What am I gonna do about it?” he repeats as his hand comes up to hold your chin. He leans down, face to face with you as he continues headily, never taking his eyes off yours, “I’m gonna fuck you stupid. Right here. On this table,” he breathes each sentence before he finally takes your lips in his. It’s gentler than you expect as your eyes flutter shut and the sound of the entrance door closing behind the last patron signals that you’re alone now.

You sigh into his mouth before you pull him closer, the kiss growing more heated with each moment that passes.

You let Bucky ruck up your skirt as your hands fumble with his belt before you start working on his button and zipper. You stop him for just a second, grabbing his hand, “You rip ‘em, you buy ‘em,” you tell him, earning a grin from him.

“Deal,” he says before easily tearing your tights and turning you around, forcing you down against the table.

“No underwear, huh?” he taunts as he rips your tights even more, his thick fingers wasting no time in playing with your wetness on full display for him.

Your legs are spread as you moan at the delightful feeling of his fingers pushing into your sex, opening you up for him as he scissors his fingers inside your tight heat before curling them the way he knows you like.

“Fuck, Bucky, please,” you whine as you clutch onto the table, pushing your hips backs and trying to fuck yourself on his hand.

“Jesus, fuck, you’re perfect,” he swears before landing a stinging slap to your ass and pulling his fingers out. He quickly tugs down his jeans and frees himself from his boxers, his erection hot, heavy, and throbbing.

“Make me so fuckin’ hard, you know that?”

You only mewl in response as he runs the head of his cock through your folds, teasing you. He doesn’t have as much patience as he normally does, though. He’s been thinking of you nonstop since you left his apartment this morning. Been wanting you close again from the second you left his bed.

He knows this was just supposed to be a fun fling, but from the first time he kissed you, he knew he was done for. He knew he’d only want more.

And he was right.

He wanted all of it with you, not just sex. He wanted to spend his days cuddling you in his bed, watching movies, talking about nothing; hell, he even had to stop himself from texting you the other day to see if you were busy when he had to go get groceries because he wanted your company.

He was hooked on you completely.

But this “fling” was your idea and he didn’t want to run you off with the idea of commitment so soon. So for now, this would have to do. And who was he to complain about the nights he got to spend flirting with you, teasing you, taking you apart only to put you back together in his arms come morning.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as the head of his cock catches along your slick entrance, a hiss emanating from him as you gasp at the feeling.

He slowly lets himself push in, deeper and deeper until his hips are flush against your ass and he’s filling you completely.

Your soft moans urge him on as he begins to fuck you, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass filling the quiet of the empty bar. As he starts to thrust harder, the squelching noises of your fucking grow louder and louder as you moan without care, your hips hitting the edge of the table over and over with his every thrust.

His hands frame your waist as he holds you tight, rutting ever deeper inside of you, his cock hitting your g-spot repeatedly as you whine and gasp in pure pleasure, the coil in your belly tightening with each glide of his cock along your walls and every nudge against your g-spot. Bucky slips a hand down and finds your puffy clit, circling it as he feels you getting closer, your walls squeezing him tighter and tighter.

Your toes are curling in your shoes as your feet arch and slip against the floor when the muscles in your legs and core tighten and strain as your walls clench down on his thick cock and your orgasm hits you hard.

In the same instance, Bucky growls as the swinging of the entrance door sounds. You don’t even bother to look up as you’re lost in the euphoria of your high.

“We’re closed,” Bucky barks, his hips never faltering as he continues to fuck you while your eyes screw shut in overwhelming pleasure.

You vaguely hear a fumbling apology and the door closing once more as Bucky buries himself inside of you, leaning over your bent body and rutting into you as his groans and moans tumble heavily from his lips. With one more thrust, you sigh breathily as you feel him spill inside of you.

The weight of his body on top of yours is a comfort you can’t help but revel in as he holds you still and gets all of his release out, your velvety walls milking his cock as he fills you with his hot come.

He’s breathing heavily as he comes down from his orgasm and gently pulls his cock out of you. You instinctively press your legs together, your thick thighs making it easy. You push yourself up off the table after a moment and turn around, fixing your skirt as you do.

“Fuck,” you breathe under your breath happily. “Maybe lock the door next time?” you suggest playfully, “Or, at least turn the ‘OPEN’ light off.”

“Next time?” Bucky says with a raised brow and a smirk as he fixes his pants. “You like getting fucked in the bar that much?”

“Well, you did say something about fucking me stupid.. And not that that was bad at all, but, I’m not feeling very stupid right now.”

He licks his lips as he takes you in, taking your hands in his and tugging you close. “Why don’t you come home with me and I’ll get you there,” he says smoothly.

“That’d make it three nights in a row,” you say, a little unsure. “You sure you wanna risk it? I might not wanna leave.”

“I might not want you to,” he says, surprising you by how soft and sincere his voice is.

You meet his eye and swear you could drown in the glimmering blues as he smiles that schoolboy smile. You let out a shaky, nervous laugh.

“You fallin’ for me, Barnes?” you tease playfully - just a hint of hope laced in your tone.

He surprises you again as he takes hold of your chin, peering deep into your eyes, before he brushes his nose against your, his lips inches away from your own as you breath each other in for a second.

And then he kisses you.

Soft, yet firm and as you lose yourself in it, a deep yearning for Bucky that you’ve kept down from day one rears her head once more.

You part for a second to breathe before you crash your lips into his again, pulling him closer to you by the front of his shirt.

Your tongues glide against one another as he slips his in expertly before kissing you deeply.

He lets his forehead fall to yours as he parts from you.

You're breathless as he wears a nervous smile you’ve never seen on him before.

“Say I have. What are you gonna do about it?” he repeats your earlier taunt, trying to hide his anxiousness as he waits for you to respond.

You suck your lip as you consider him, biting back the smile threatening to take over your face.

“I’d tell you that, maybe, I’ve fallen for you, too,” you admit shyly, looking up to see his cocksure smile back in full force, just the way it always is.

“Then I’d tell you to take me back to your apartment,” you say, leaning into him for another sultry kiss. “So you can fuck me stupid,” you breathe against his lips, “as many times as you want.”

You nearly squeal as you're taken off your feet in the next second, Bucky’s strong arms holding you securely as you wrap your own around him.

“That I will happily comply with,” he says, kissing you hotly as you smile into it. You pull away just slightly to speak.

“We didn’t finish closing,” you laugh.

“Don't care,” he says, kissing you again as he easily walks to the bar, holding you with surprising ease that you aren’t sure you’ll ever get used to before he sets you down. “We can do it tomorrow,” he excuses, grabbing his keys from behind the bar and flicking the lights out. You grab your jacket and bag from the shelf you kept them on and follow behind Bucky as he locks the doors, escorting you out and to his car.

Before you get there, he turns on you, both of you stopping in your spots.

“We really doing this?” he asks, wanting to make sure this is really what you want, too.

You smile and nod.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

He lets himself smile in return.

“So I can call you mine, now?” he asks, grabbing your hand, pulling you to him.

“I’d be good with that.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“You sure? Cuz once we make this official, I’m gonna let everyone know. I might never shut up about it.”

You can’t help but laugh at how excited and proud he sounds. “I think I’m okay with that,” you smile up at him, meeting his lips in another kiss before he leads you to the car and opens the door for you to get in.

You know you’re okay with that. It’s what you’d been hoping for from the first time you’d kissed, for this to lead to something real, something more. Now here you were.

He wanted to officially call you his, and Bucky was finally, truly yours.

[worthyprnce]

random merlin episodes I wish we had:

a stuck in the same day over and over episode — where someone, obviously merlin, is somehow magically stuck living the same day again and again but only he knows that. we missed so many opportunities. so many magic reveals and so many different reactions to it, specially from arthur and perhaps the knights too.

a halloween special — with a much darker and scarier mood, with less comic relief and more horror. we have a few dark scenes along the show, a whole episode of it would be so cool

a merlin x doctor who crossover — I have this inside joke with a friend that the diamair (that alien looking creature that helps gwaine in the first two episodes of season five) was BBC's way of pushing doctor who into the show, and it would be so nice if it was true. it didn't even have to be a merlin episode, it could be a doctor who episode where the doctor and the companion (I don't remember exactly which ones would be, I guess the 11th?) get back to save the diamair and they help them find a better place to live. and then we see the doctor hiding away from gwaine and percy, and then merlin and arthur and morgana (and all the guards and all) until they can finally talk to the diamair alone. and along the episode we see the characters going as the episodes in merlin canonically did, but in the doctor's pov.

a breaking the fourth wall episode — fleabag style. maybe merlin is the only one who can break the fourth wall, but I like to imagine everyone can, but no one else knows that's a thing everyone could do it. I don't know how this would be explained in cannon, but it would be fun

a green knight episode — where we follow (merlin follows) gwaine in a cheaper version of the tale of the green knight where the writers would obviously time compress a whole year into a few days, give cheap and lazy explanations and the green knight would probably be some random morgana's ally but I would love it anyway

a knights episode — actually I would have loved a spinoff of the knights with two seasons minimum, but at least one whole episode following their pov would be so much fun. maybe something happens and now we watch each of them along their day in flashbacks or something like that, until said thing happens and they have to collect all the puzzle pieces and try to understand what is going on and what happened and why and how to solve it. bonus points if merlin solves it all off screen and they all think that they did it, so now they are all proud of themselves. merlin obviously lets them take the credit for it, but this time he doesn't feel bad about not getting the credit he's due for saving the day once again. he feels happy to see his friends all happy and proud.

an animated episode — I am a huge lover of animation and just thinking about all the characters in an animated style version of themselves makes my heart warm. I love it so much, it would have been soooooo fun and so cute. it could have been an special, didn't even have to be an actual episode. like a christmas special maybe? I don't celebrate christmas so I don't know what would happen, just that it would be animated.

one or some of the characters turn into children — I think it would so fun and so cute to have merlin, gwen, gaius and maybe leon taking care of baby/child arthur. bonus points if uther is still alive and they have to hide baby arthur from him. or worse, all the knights turn into different aged children, leon is a teenager, gwaine has around 11/12, elyan has 7 and percival has 2, and merlin is going insane trying to keep up with them at the same time he tries to solve this mess as soon as possible. I would love the absolute chaos.

a merlin's birthday episode — nothing bad happens, we just get to watch everyone doing their best to come up with a good gift for merlin. and he is so confused as to why everyone is acting so strange around him (but they think they're being stealth and doing a good job). in the end they get the date all wrong and merlin's birthday is like, in six months or something.

that's all I can think of right now, and I know most of them (maybe all of them) don't even make much sense and wouldn't be possible to make in canon, but hey I can dream.

if I ever think of something else I'll do a part 2

[boopshoops]

C'mon now, we don't HAVE to stick to one set genre. Music is about self expression!~ ...Though I wouldn't be against one-upping some competition.

Yuu Shi is strutting on down to debut as a vocalist and backup dancer for GLOWCHAIN! With eccentric flare and powerful vocals, she's here to push the boundaries of EDM and pop to new heights. After all, if it isn't experimental, it isn't her.

Part 2

Ragu Music Week is a fanevent by @raguiras!!! :D

Set to home screen: Mic check, one two!~

Groovification: ???

Home transition 1: Day three of asking Allen to let me join Hazard, no such luck as of yet. Is this how Epel feels about Savanaclaw? Maybe a bribe would work...

Home transition 2: Ohh I just love this boa! It's so cute and fluffy! Come here and touch it, it's so soft that I could use it as a pillow.

Home transition 3: No need to worry much about your performances, hon, I'll make sure to outperform you regardless! You can take that as a promise and a threat.

Home transition/Groovification: ???

Tap home 1: You think I'm getting a bit competitive over this? Hmm, Maybe, maybe. Well, this is finally my chance to show off my prowess! I didn't go to performing arts school for nothing.

Tap home 2: I'm able to keep up with Vil fine enough, but after the chaos that was VDC, I'm beginning to feel bad for my other group members... but not bad enough! Let's go again!

Tap home 3: No, no, no- That's not it. Your movements aren't big enough! You need to gesture enough for the whole crowd to see. Remember, the people in the back row want a show too. You need to hold out your arms like so!

Tap home 4: As much as I enjoy an organized, set performance, I much prefer to go with the flow. I want to get the whole audience involved in ways you haven't seen before, you know? Make it feel more authentic? It'll leave a lasting impression of me in their minds!... Oh, and the rest of GLOWCHAIN, of course.

Tap home 5: Hahaha! What, am I towering over you in these heels? Should I kneel down, is that what you'd like? What? I'm just teasing!

Tap home/Groovification: ???

Home after login: As much as I love this outfit, I could do with a little less sparkle... When the stage lights hit me and the other members, I can't help but feel like a damn disco ball. What do you think?

ALRIGHT RAMBLING TIME. Yuu shi is having a hard time abandoning her instruments for GLOWCHAIN. Therefore she takes every chance she can to be petty about it and be another headache for vil (sorry bbg). She is very jealous of Hazard/Riff due to this- but she's not letting that stop her from trying to outperform other groups or even vil himself.

As for music- I did a lot of research into KPOP i never had before KJGDSBKGJSD and I think mamamoos vibe fits Yuu Shi very well!

also I listened to the inspiration playlist, saw lady gaga, and blacked out

Charli XCX fits her more experimental style too- its her way of pushing the boundaries of the genre

KIMPETRASKIMPETRASKIMPETRAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As for dancing- ive had Royal Family brain rot lately. THEY ARE SO TALENTED AAAAAAAAAAAAA. Theyre flowy, energetic, fast paced moves fit yuu shi very well imo!!! Though she would definitely need a lot more practiced to be as organized as them sob. 3:25 in particular drives me insane:

OK RAMBLING OVER TAG TIME

@lowcallyfruity @skriblee-ksk @kitwasnothere @cecilebutcher @justm3di0cr3

@thehollowwriter @distant-velleity @the-trinket-witch @techno-danger @scint1llat3

@beneathsakurashade @twsted-canvas @qsoap @prince-kallisto

[ctrlchar]

Jake Webber NSFW alphabet

a/n: for the oral section i wrote about him making you watch a movie while he eats you out and I love that concept sm i can’t and also there is a Johnnie alphabet coming soon as well🙏

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

absolutely loves aftercare,he always asks you if you need anything and if you do he’ll do it in a instant. he also gets you one of his oversized shirts and some of his boxers to change into so you can be comfortable

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

on himself it’s his waist,he loves his tattoos that lead down to his crotch and that’s really it tbh,he just thinks he has a nice waist

on you it is 1000% your tits,he talks about tits in literally every video. he doesn’t care what they look like as long as he can squeeze them and leave kisses on them during sex

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

if your back is to him he likes to cum on your back or inside of you,he lives for watching his cum drip out of you just for him to finger it back into you

if you’re facing him then it doesn’t matter too much although he does like to cum on your tits but he’s not too specific on it

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

seeing his hands around you will literally make him cum on the spot,he just loves how possessive it is to physically hold onto you with his hands both in a sexual and non sexual manor

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

he’s a very experienced guy,this means that he can tell what you do and don’t like very easily

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

he absolutely loves when you ride him,however he doesn’t like reverse cowgirl at all because obviously he can’t see your tits

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

100% he’s a very silly person and I think that carries over into the bedroom as well like I think this man might even go out of his way to make a joke during sex rather then just joking about something awkward happening

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

I don’t think he really does anything to it honestly,maybe whenever he dates you he trims it up a little but he genuinely could not care less and the same goes for you he doesn’t care if you have hair or don’t

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

Intimacy is not his strong suit,yes he can be intimate and yes he will be intimate it’s just not something he’s amazing at

however he will make sure you know that he wants you and not your body,this meaning he’ll probably tell you how much he loves you and how good you treat him while he’s inside you

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

I don’t think he jerks of regularly only whenever he’s doing something and you’re not there or you are there but you’re busy and he doesn’t wanna seem like a dick by making you stop what your doing just so you can have sex

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

overstimulation-he absolutely loves to see you begging for him to let up his assault on your clit

his fingers prodded your tight hole for now 15 minutes,you had came what you think was 10 minutes ago but you weren’t sure and didn’t care for that matter as Jake continued to push his fingers in and out of you at a rapid pace. your hands reaching up for his hands in attempt to slow him down which he does for a moment “aw my pretty girl. you don’t really want me to stop hm?” he asks knowing the answer already since the two of you have had this discussion before

daycraphillia- seeing you cry might be his biggest turn on during sex. just watching you come undone because of his cock boosts his ego through the roof. especially when you’re in doggy style and he’s practically fucking your tears into the pillow below you

photos- he would love to take photos during sex if you let him. but not just photos of you,he feels as if he’s taking photos of you there should also be photos of himself. so usually he’ll take photos of you giving him head or even just his hard cock cumming on you. his favorite photos have to be when he’s fucking you from behind and your ass is right against his cock

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

he really likes doing it in his car. like man will never turn you down if you ask him to lay back his seat and fuck you in his car

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

seeing you in JUST his shirt no shorts underwear absolutely nothing other then his shirt

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

nothing too extreme that would ever hurt you,his exception when it comes to impact play is choking and that’s about it.

he also doesn’t like the idea of sharing you,he doesn’t get jealous easily but the thought of someone seeing you do vulnerable is a huge turn off

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

he gets super whiney and needy whenever you give him head. like bucking his hips down your throat needy

“f-fuck!” he moans arching his back against the wall. his hand now tightly gripping your hair as he tried to gain his composure and not start completely fucking your face. he starts to buck his hips up more and more subconsciously the closer he gets apologizing with each thrust “baby i’m sorry” “shit i can’t” “feels t-too good” he’d say bucking his hips into your mouth before eventually cumming down your throat

on the other hand he will give you head no matter what you’re doing. his favorite time to give you head is whenever you’re watching a movie with him and his head moves from resting on your chest from going to your clothed clit making you watch the movie as he eats you out

he also wraps his arms around your thighs when he goes down on you to make sure you’re as close to him as possible

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

I think he keeps a moderate pace but if you ask for him to go faster or slower he will. I feel like he thrusts rlly hard too if that makes sense

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

he likes them a little less then proper sex. only because there’s not much variety in quickies,like you have to work with what you have but during regular sex it’s up to you rather then your surroundings

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

this kinda goes back to N, the biggest risk he’ll take with you is having semi public sex but that’s it

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

he can last pretty long honestly maybe like 4-5 rounds or so

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

I think he used to own a fleshlight when he was younger (early 20s) but other then that no,if he saw you using a toy he would make you continue whatever it was you were doing while he watched you and maybe if he was really horny he’d jerk off with you

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

hugeeeee tease.

the two of you were sitting at a booth during dinner,with two of your friends on the other side. Jake had his hand resting on your thigh which to most people simply looked like he was doing just that,but you and him both knew what he was doing. he had been rubbing his fingers along your inner thighs where he knew he had left bite marks and bruises. this resulted in a dull pain which went straight to your heat.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

other then whenever he’s getting head I think he just grunts a lot. like loud grunts each time he thrusts into you

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

loves watching threesome porn but he knows he would never do one because of how possessive he can get over you

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

I think he has an average looking cock which is average in both girth and height

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

I think it was pretty low before he met you. like if the chance presented himself he wouldn’t say no but he wouldn’t go out of his way to have sex. now he probably has sex about 3 times a week give or take

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he will either go to sleep within a few minutes or he will do the exact opposite and after he’s done making sure you’re okay he’ll lay with you and watch a movie while you either watch it with him or fall asleep in his arms

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things: chapter three

aizawa x reader fic

cw: cisfem reader, no quirks, office au, miscommunications, slow burn, sexting, alcohol consumption. full tags available on AO3 (linked in masterlist)

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Hizashi and his (real) wife are exactly the type of people that you want to notice you from across the room. While Hizashi is long and lean, Nemuri is all curves, with a delightfully heart shaped face and wide, thick thighs that you can’t stop yourself from looking at sometimes. Her dark hair is pressed into curls, as deep and as black as her lipstick.

“Do you want a taste?” Nemuri leans in, elbows tucked against her ribcage, pushing her chest up just a bit more. Her dress is sheer enough that you can catch a hint of nipple, dark and pearled up in the cold-

“Uh-?” You rip your eyes away. Two drinks in and you’re already ogling. You’d feel bad about it if the couple didn’t absolutely bask in the attention.

“Of my drink.” Nemuri says, like she knows what she's doing. “Taste my drink.”

“Leave the poor girl alone- Shouta has her all riled up.” Hizashi laughs, wrinkling his nose in delight as he watches the both of you. His cheeks are flushed with alcohol, glasses off kilter one way and smile tilted the opposite. The top five buttons of his business appropriate top are undone, meaning he’s also sporting a bit too much nipple for late afternoon. 

“I was just trying to see that pretty smile,” she pouts, with the almost unobtainable balance of sweet and sexy.  You’re not sure if she’s really this pretty, or if it's rose colored glasses, tinted by your own jealousy.

You take Nemuri's drink and tip it back, swallowing it faster than your brain can process the flavor. It's gin, maybe absinthe: you just know that it burns. Fighting through your gag reflex, you offer a quick grin, one much less wobbly than it was earlier. 

“Aw, there it is!”

Nemuri runs the city’s one and only ‘lifestyle club’: Midnight. From what you've heard, it's a very lux, beautiful venue, filled with torrid amounts of untold debauchery and countless swingers. Technically, the couple started it together- which, now that you’re thinking about it, says a lot about their relationship. They’re the type of couple that’s almost too similar: they're too much, too loud, too nice, too confident. 

 Most of your friends couldn’t leave work midday on a Thursday, so your ‘birthday bash’ is less exciting than Hizashi had originally planned. That’s fine; you didn’t need more than this.

“Are you feeling better?” Hizashi asks softly. The restaurant is quiet, with only a couple of other tables filled. The three of you had chosen a booth in the very back, hidden away from everyone else who wanted a quiet meal; the waiter seems grateful for that. He’s in the opposite corner, checking his phone and waiting for you to finish your drinks before heading back over. Drinking at 3 in the afternoon isn’t usually your style, but you think you deserve it today. It’s a hat trick: breaking up, turning thirty, and getting screamed at. Maybe a meteor will fall from the sky and really add insult to injury.

“No.” You slump into the booth and the room follows suit. “Aizawa's such an asshole.”

The couple gives you identical looks: tiled heads and pressed lips. Both of them are a bit older than you, 37 and 38, but most of the time you don’t feel the gap. Today, however, you do; you feel like a baby, sucking down fruity drinks while moping about. It’s incredibly childish, but you just can’t stop yourself. You want time to be sad.

“He doesn’t mean to be.” Hizashi starts. 

“But he is!” you whine. “I don’t know how you guys are even friends with him.”

“He's different outside of work.” Nemuri says. Shit-talking the man puts them into a strange position, you know that. They have all known each other since college; Aizawa had even gotten Hizashi his current position at the company. It’s strange to think that they are friendly-- let alone close- but you guess they’re both friendly with everyone.  “He's a real kitten in real life.”

You try and imagine the guy without a stick up his ass and can’t. What-- is he doing yoga and petting puppies in his free time? As if. All that blue light has rotted his brain.

“He's just crazy stressed. It makes him act like a bone head.” Hizashi  reasons with a shrug, forever unflappable. His own drink is almost empty, so he gestures for another. “I'm sure he'll apologize tomorrow.” 

The bartender is quick to bring you guys another round. He asks about food, which the couple is quick to order, insisting that everything is their treat. That’s probably a good thing; that half a latte you had for breakfast isn’t doing anything to absorb the alcohol in your system and your stomach is growling. In the meantime, you take the cherry out of your drink and chew on it. You’ll have to savor this drink, just to make sure you don’t get too drunk-

Nemuri leans in conspiratorially. “Was it at least kind of hot?”

“What?”

“Having Shouta scold you.”

What.

“What.”

Hot? Hot?

“What.” you repeat, stressing the vowel.

“He's a handsome guy!” she laughs, throwing her hair over her shoulder. “Deep voice, kind of domineering-- it didn't… turn you on a little bit?” 

“And you clearly have a thing for assholes-” Hizashi grins, then yelps, shooting his wife a glare. “Ouch, don't kick me!”

Nevermind. You take a long, long sip of your cocktail until your stomach and vision swirl. You need it.

“And he’s hotter than that idiot you were dating- ‘muri, stop kicking me.”

The only time Touya ever came to your work was for a Christmas party. He was very interested to learn that Hizashi and Nemuri's relationship was open and seemingly forgot that your relationship was, in fact, closed. It's been ages since you forgave him, but Mic still hasn’t moved on. 

“Stop saying dumb shit then.” She rolls her eyes, then returns her attention back to you. “He’s right though.”

“Touya is--”  Defending him is reflexive. It's not that Touya isn't attractive, it just happens to be in his own way. Maybe other people would see it if he smiled more or pulled out some piercings. Sure. you had never seen yourself with someone as grungy as him, but... “He’s handsome and kinda charming.”

The energy shifts. Hizashi practically leaps across the table, scooping your hands into his, eyes wide with horror.

“Please don’t tell me you’re taking him back,” he begs. Apparently, your face answers for you. because he draws back, horror drawn across his features. “No. No! You're better than this!”

That phrase hits you funny and you remember Aizawa told you the same thing. Better than this-- why does everyone decide that you need better? Why can’t you be okay with… just okay? Mediocrity fits you well. 

“Am I?” you say into the glass edge of your drink. 

“You're miles out of his league. You deserve someone with a full time job, and a savings, and who doesn't habitually cheat-”

“Hizashi, leave her alone.” Nemuri glances his way and he immediately complies, throwing his hands up in surrender. When she returns her attention to you, her expression is kinder. “Don’t do something you regret just because you’re sad. You just need to get back in the saddle and you'll feel way better.”

“Yeah, once you're back at work, things will smooth out,” Hizashi says.

“Work isn’t the saddle- a dick is the saddle,” she corrects. “You just need a crazy hook up.”

It’s not that you don’t like sex. You think it’s perfectly fine. You’re just not in love with it the same way these two are. The whole experience of it all is so exciting and wonderful in theory, but in practice? It’s more awkward moments than orgasms. It doesn’t help that Touya is the only person you’ve ever slept with, since he’s admittedly selfish in that department.

You realize you’ve been silent for a suspiciously long amount of time. “Oh, well, uh-” you try to come up with an excuse. “I dunno how to date-- I’ve been with Touya for years.” 

“Sex isn’t dating.” she insists. “It’s just-- mutual fun and understanding. What’s your type?”

“Dark hair, I guess.” You aren’t really sure. “Are you going to bring me to your club and set me up with someone?”

“No way.” She leans forward on to her elbows again. “It’s a bad environment for a beautiful girl who can't say no.”

You try to imagine yourself being hit on, maybe a man buying you a drink or inviting you on to his lap, and can’t bring yourself to say no. You heave a sigh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“See? You can’t even argue with me. Midnight is the major leagues-- start with the basics. Do you own a vibe?”

You glance over at Hizashi.

“Pretend I’m not here.”  He says, leaning back with a smirk.

“Uh-” You glance between the two, trying to decide how honest you should be. Laughter bubbles out of you that you can’t  quite control. “No?”

Both of them look aghast.

“Finish that drink and get your phone out.” Nemuri demands. “You’re buying yourself a birthday present.”

.

The rest of the night is a bit of a blur. There’s dinner and drinks and a stroll around town, the bits and blurs of laughter and conversation and the back of Hizashi’s car. By the time you’re dropped off at your apartment building, you’re wobbling on your heels and pleading for the world to stay still. Overindulging isn’t usually your speed, but it’s certainly fun.

 Your key barely makes it into your lock and you stumble in, laughing at the way your oven’s clock flashes at you. 8:00: in college you could have been out all night, but now you’re ready for bed before the good television shows come on.  

The bed is still made from this morning, sheets untouched and pillows unsquished.  

You don't want to sleep alone.

The bathroom calls your name. You're supposed to be washing your face, but you can't rip yourself away from your phone long enough to bother. 

You don't want to sleep alone.

Nemuri was right, you just need to get under someone and you'll feel better. You’re itching for it, needy for touch, desperate for the validation that love affords you. Midnight will be open soon and its only a train ride away, but you aren’t a member and Nemuri made it clear you wouldn’t be getting an exception. You could download a dating app and scroll, but the idea of a stranger entering your life and home feels wrong. It’d be easier to stay with something familiar… someone you know..

AVOID AT ALL COST sits at the top of your contacts, mocking you in all capital letters. Touya. The man who won’t even read your texts. At this point, crawling back to his is ugly and pathetic, but your drunk brain keeps looping back to the idea of sex and love and touch and-

You close your eyes for deniability, then click.

i wish you were here<-

iwnt you so bad right now<-

You cringe at the typo, regret sitting heavy in your belly. Read sits heavy at the corner of the screen, taunting you with your mistake-

Your drunk brain catches up. Read? He… read it? Typing bubbles appear, then disappear. Then, they pop up again, typing for an uncomfortably long time. Despite yourself, you get excited, rolling on the balls of your feet and bouncing. Touya is answering you. When you’re starved for affection, even the smallest bits feel like full meals, both saiating you and wetting your mouth for more.

->Are you sure you're texting the right person? 

->I thought you hated me.

You lean against your bathroom sink to steady your hands, giggling and twitting about. 

I wish i hated you lol <-

but i just want you so bad <-

You lean against the sink, watching the little "seen" pop up under your messages. When the typing bubbles don’t immediately appear, you send off another.

 id let you have me <-

 any way you want me <-

You almost stop there, but then you catch your own eye in the mirror. Your outfit is a bit disheveled, your makeup is more than a bit smeared, but you look… good. Just fucked and ready for more. Your dress isn’t low cut enough to be inappropriate for work, but you manage to shimmy it lower, hem pressed just below the curve the lacy edge of your bra. It’s nothing new to him, but it still feels dirty, illicit enough to steal your breath away.

The response is instant.

->God. How are you so…

->Don't tease me if you don't mean it. 

Oh, you’ll tease him alright. You’re going to tempt this man away from wherever he is and back into your bed. You pull your skirt up this time, hiking it all of the way up your thighs until just a hint of your skin toned undies are on display. With the camera just slightly out of focus, it really looks like you've shown him a sliver of cunt.

->Fuck. 

->You're right. I want you. 

->I’ve always wanted you. 

You giddily skip to your room, tossing yourself on your bed. You should really shower first, but your body is hot and primed; your hand is already sliding down, the heel of your palm grinding against your needy core.  You need something to touch you, you need the friction of someone else. There’s a vibrator in your amazon cart, but you can’t wait for 2 day shipping.

For now, the edge of a pillow will have to do. You bunch it below you and rock your hips, searching for that perfect angle that will-

More texts come through.

->I've always thought about fucking you against your desk after everyone else has left. Those stupid slippers over my shoulders. Your lips on mine.

-> I know you taste sweet. All over.

A shiver turns through you. Yes, you need to be tasted, you need his teeth in your neck and his spit on your tits-

are you jacking off right now? <-

There’s a gap. Maybe you've pressed too far.

->Yes. 

I wish my hands were as soft as yours.

 lemme see <-

You expect the messages to dry up there. Touya likes the chase, not the follow through. You put your phone down and shift your weight more, trying to focus on rolling your hips just right. A pressure is building inside you, one that’s warm and fuzzy and rolling into your chest and down into your cunt. Your eyes close and you chase that high.

A message comes through.

A video message.

You scramble to press play, hips rolling against your pillow on their own, searching for friction. 

A barely there moan hits you first.

The video is dark and grainy, but you can make out the shape of his cock, heavy against his thick thigh. His pubes have grown out, a dark patch of hair that trails up his soft stomach and out of frame. You can see every breath he pulls, stomach constricting and expanding. The hand that isn't holding the camera is looped around the base of his cock, squeezing gently before slowly stroking the length. His fingers are slick with lube or precum and they glide over his length, earning you another growl of a moan.

Chills run through your body. Fuck. Holy fuck. He must really miss you. He's throbbing for you and you swear he's bigger than ever. It must be the angle and your drunk mind, but he looks huge.

never shave ever again ok I love how manly it looks <-

and fuck your voice is so hot I almost came from that alone <-

->Are you touching yourself?

yes<-

->Show me.

Embarrassment suddenly hits you. Touya always told you that men were visual creatures and rutting against a pillow like an animal isn’t the ‘porn pretty’ pictures he expects. Usually, you’d comply and pose how you know he likes it, but the room is off kilter and your body is heavy. Besides, Nemuri and Hizashi were right-- an orgasm would fix you. You need to keep going right now or else your stomach’s going to cramp.

i’m embarrassed <-

It’s mostly the truth. You would understand if he stopped texting you after that, but a response comes quickly. 

That’s okay. <-

Tell me about it? <-

Your heart thumps. Then, again. That shouldn’t be hot. 

->i'm humping my pillow and wishing it was you

My leg or my cock? <-

Fuck. When did he get good at this?

->whatever you'll give me

Ride my thigh and we'll see what you deserve.<-

God, it's just words, but you feel electric. When did he get good at this? The heat in your core feels like it's going to consume your whole body and you can't help but to continue to stroke it; you squeeze your thighs and tilt your hips over and over again, thinking about that wide thigh and his manly, big hands. God, you should be texting back, but you're just-- just--

Your orgasm hits you way quicker than usual. It's one that hits you all at once, straightening your back and stealing your breath and just tickling every inch of your core. It's all consuming and followed by the creamy feeling bliss that you so desperately needed. As you  flop forward and sink into your mattress, sleep nipping at your heels, you gather yourself enough to send one final picture.

You collect your cum in your fingers and scissor them back and forth, letting the wetness web in between. When you lift your hand, it catches in the overhead light, clear and lovely and all for him. The photo you take is a bit out of focus, exhaustion settling into your bones, but it’s very clear when you’re showing.

-> next time you make me cum ebtter be in person

-

The next morning you wake up to a pounding headache and fuzzy teeth, but your body feels good. There’s something looser, lighter, inside you, like you’ve relaxed for the first time in forever.  You can’t even bring yourself to care that your phone is dead or that you’re running a bit late to work. It’s awful to admit, but Nemuri was right- an orgasm really did fix you. Maybe that’s why the two of them are always so chipper; they’re definitely fucking like rabbits.

You plug in your phone and get ready for the day. Three ibuprofen and a shower mostly fix your headache and a very thorough brushing fixes everything else. Your toothbrush still sits next to Touya’s, seemingly the only thing in the apartment he forgot to take, but today that doesn’t fill you with dread. Things, finally, are good again. Pretty words have soothed all of your wounds and you’re just waiting for him to come back home to you.

It’s all you can think about as you get dressed. You slip into something black-- Touya’s favorite-- and put on those special red heels again, even though your instep is rubbed raw.

You're almost out the door when you remember your phone. You scramble back to your bedroom and start it up as you head out the door. The screen boots up and messages start inching their way in. A couple from friends, apps, and-

Hm. That’s. 

A name that you don’t expect pops up. Aizawa Shouta sits at the top of your direct messages, five messages sent through. Yesterday, you’d probably think you were losing your job or the world was ending, but today you can take it in stride. Hizashi was right; the man is already trying to apologize! You open the message and smugly prepare for the groveling-

-> I bet you looked so pretty when you came.