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hellfirenacht · 3 months ago

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Anomaly Part 2

Summary: You can talk to anyone in school with no problem. At least, anyone who's not named Eddie Munson.

Tags: Anxious-ish!Reader but not shy, one sided pining, no use of y/n, fem!reader, one sided enemies to lovers, fem!reader

2.1k Words

Part 1

School assemblies were fun in their own way. You weren’t exactly brimming with school spirit but you could fake it for a half-hour when it got you out of your History class. Everyone was ushered into the gym at the end of the day to celebrate the sport season. You had no idea if the Hawkin’s Tigers were good or not, you could really only name two and a half people on the basketball team: Jason Carver, who you unfortunately had shared a free period with once, Lucas Sinclair, who you had seen talking to Eddie once in a blue moon, and Steve Harrington who had graduated, so he didn’t really count. You vaguely remembered working with him on some school project for two days and thinking that you just wanted to squish his hair down to see if it would spring back up.

Stacy bounded over to you in the bleachers, decked out in more Tiger’s Green than a leprechaun. She shook the scrunchy out of her hair and slipped it onto your wrist. You sometimes wondered how she never became a cheerleader with how perky she was.

“There, now you look like you tried.” she giggled, nudging you.

“I was gonna scribble on my face with a green dry erase marker, but Mr. Thompson’s had run dry.” You said.

“He was probably lying so you wouldn’t steal one and huff it in the bathroom.”

“Hey, that was one time and 4th grade math was hard.” you cackled.

“Speaking of hard drugs, look who decided to actually show up.” Stacy smirked and your stomach instantly dropped as you followed her gaze.

“What the fuck is Eddie doing here?” you whispered to Stacy. “He doesn’t do pep rallies!”

“Guess he does now.” she shrugged.

Eddie was a few rows lower than you, leaning against the end railing of the bleachers. You vaguely wondered if he was burning up in that leather jacket, it wasn’t exactly cool in the gym with so many bodies all squished together.

He was alone, looking like he’d rather be literally anywhere else. You didn’t blame him, this clearly wasn’t a place where he fit in. You looked down the bleachers in the opposite direction, unable to pick out any of his friends. During pep rallies, the bleachers were divided by grade, with Seniors on your end of the bleachers, and freshmen on the opposite end. Maybe Eddie was pressing himself against the railing to create his own section of Super Seniors.

If he was anyone else, you’d join him in that section, but you kept that knowledge to yourself.

“He looks lonely, go talk to him before they start.” Stacy encouraged.

“Please, I doubt he’d want to talk to me at any other time. You think he wants to talk to me now?” you asked incredulously.

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“He could convince me to join a cult and then sacrifice me to the dark forces.” you said, looking over at him. Well, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Eddie’s head snapped up and he whirled around. Out of everyone around, his eyes immediately locked onto yours.

Oh shit.

He heard that.

His round brown eyes sized you up, and you cringed out of embarrassment for your stupid joke. You felt like a deer in the headlights. Eddie was looking at you, really looking at you for the first time and you were about two seconds away from jumping off the back of the bleachers and tunneling your way out of the school.

Next to you, you could practically feel Stacy shaking as she tried to hold in her laughter, which unfortunately, triggered your own set of nervous giggling because this whole thing was so stupid and Eddie was still looking at you.

He looked unimpressed, and flipped you off before turning back around to sulk against the railing again as the band suddenly started up, and everyone started cheering for the team.

“Gotta say, I am nailing this, Stacy.” You laughed, leaning against her shoulder. “Practically had the boy swooning.”

“Yeah, he’ll be asking you out any day now.” She rubbed your back sympathetically.

“I can’t believe he heard me. He totally thought I was being serious.” Your giggles finally subsided and you looked up at her.

“It would be very easy to clear this up, if you’d just talk to him.” She said.

“I don’t like it when you’re rational, you know.” you replied and glanced at him again. Eddie was no longer looking at you and was just fiddling with his rings as he watched boredly as Principal Higgens was giving announcements.

You had to apologize. The last thing you wanted was for Eddie to think that you were really like that. You didn’t buy into the bullshit that some dice and graph paper could damn your soul to hell.

“Fuck it, I’m going in.” you said, and turned to head towards Eddie.

“Go get ‘em, Tiger!”

You made your way to the edge of the bleachers, and three things happened in quick succession. First, Miles Cooper got overly enthusiastic as you passed by him, and his elbow made a quick and sharp connection to your stomach, knocking the wind out of you. The second thing that happened was a stray backpack got kicked right in front of you as you staggered from the shock of being elbowed. The third and final thing was you falling down the two benches of bleachers that separated you and Eddie.

“You can either go to the pep rally and act like you are a part of this school, or you can have detention, Mr. Munson. The choice is yours.”

Normally, no one gave a shit if Eddie skipped out on something like a pep rally. That time was better spent either reading in an empty classroom or as a smoke break in the parking lot. He had just made it out to the parking lot before he was spotted and given the option. Eddie had been good about not skipping class this year, but he really didn’t want to give Higgins another reason to threaten to withhold his diploma.

So there he was, leaning against the railing of the furthest bleachers so that the second the pep rally ended, he could just book it back to the van and leave to.. Somewhere. Uncle Wayne had work, and Eddie didn’t have a shift at the Hideout. There was no Hellfire today.

Eddie was feeling restless as he fidgeted with his rings. Today had already been annoying and he really just wanted to sneak out to his van and have a smoke. It’s not like anyone here would miss him, they’d probably celebrate his departure more than the entrance to the basketball team.

He looked down at his hands, taking his rings off and rearranging them on his fingers. He tapped them on the railing, listening to the sounds they made as he counted the seconds for this whole thing to be over.

As his mind started to wander off, a voice snapped him back to the hell he was currently in. “-join a cult and sacrifice me to the dark forces.”

It was always obvious when someone was talking about Eddie. Normally he’d let it go and ignore whoever it was, but he wasn’t exactly in the best of moods today. His head whipped around, looking for whoever was talking about him.

There you were with Stacy, again. Eddie wished he could be surprised, but he wasn’t. His eyes narrowed as he looked you over. You weren’t dressed in anything that screamed “school spirit” except for a scrunchie around your wrist.

He saw how you cringed at the sight of him, which only pissed him off more. What was your fucking problem? You were friends with Stacy, who had been on the cheer squad before her ankle gave out, the skaters liked, you liked everyone. Everyone who wasn’t Eddie Munson.

Eddie had wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, that maybe the two of you just hadn’t crossed paths enough. Maybe it wasn’t personal. But now, after hearing you say that you also thought he was some sort of demon worshiping freak he was fine to write you off as just another Hawkins student. Maybe then he could finally move past this weird feeling he had whenever you gave him the stink eye.

Stacy started giggling next to you, and Eddie just rolled his eyes and turned away. It wasn’t worth it to start anything now at the pep rally. He was already on thin ice after being caught trying to skip. The sooner this was over the better.

His attention drifted as Higgins droned on and on about school spirit and upcoming fundraisers and games. It was all background noise. In his mind, Eddie was working out the next dungeon that Hellfire was going to take on. His party was getting too used to his usual tricks, so he’d have to pull out something new to really throw them off-

There was a choked off gasp.

Then a curse.

Then a horrible cracking sound as something fell next to him.

“Jesus-!” Eddie jumped nearly a foot in the air as you hit the bleacher next to him. His eye nearly bugged out as he saw you sprawled next to him, clutching your stomach and gasping for air like a fish.

Everyone in the section was still as they all stared at you, before a few started to snicker. Stacy was quick to jump down with far more grace and land by your side. Eddie was completely frozen, unsure of what to do until he heard Miles Cooper say-

“It was Munson! He did it!”

Eddie’s head snapped to Miles, about to say something before a teacher sharply demanded the Eddie get off the bleachers and come down for what was sure to be a one-sided lecture and detention for something he didn’t do.

He didn’t fight it, he was about to argue and cause a scene right now in the bleachers. Not when that teacher had a fire in her eyes that said she was just itching for trouble. Fine, he wanted to be as far away from this as possible.

Eddie walked down the bleachers and followed the teacher out into the hallway. He was already tuning out the lecture about watching your body and not hitting girls. This was such bullshit, and he knew he couldn’t even fight back and defend himself.

“Look, I didn’t touch her!” Eddie couldn’t stop the frustration in his voice. “She was behind me when she fell!”

“Witnesses say otherwise.” The teacher crossed her arms.

“Look, just because that dumbass said it was true-”

There was a loud CLANK as the heavy doors to the gym burst open and to Eddie’s surprise, you were rushing through the door, holding onto your arm.

You made a beeline for him and the teacher and Eddie could already see it now. Your fake tears as you cried about how the freak shoved you down for no reason-

“Didn’t... do it.” you were shaking your head and panting hard. With your free hand you were pointing at Eddie. “He didn’t... he didn’t do anything... Miles elbowed me. Then I tripped. Eddie never.... Touched me.”

Stacy was behind you and grabbed your shoulders, trying to hold you in place. “Eddie didn’t do anything, Mrs. Jane.” she explained. “She was just trying to go get some water and ate shit. Eddie had nothing to do with it.”

You nodded, still panting hard as if trying to catch your breath. Stacy was rubbing your back, and you looked like you were on the verge of tears.

Eddie felt like he had just stepped into an alternate timeline. You were actually defending him? You were in that much pain but had still come running to claim his innocence?

Mrs. Jane looked at you with concern. “Eddie, you may go back to the pep rally.” She dismissed him without so much as an apology for chewing him out.

Fuck this. Eddie didn’t need to be told twice. He made his way back towards the gym, but slipped into a side hall. The pep rally was going to be over soon anyway, he might as well beat traffic.

He paused just as he was out of sight. Fine, he was a little nosey and mildly concerned as you had just come to his rescue.

“I... I think I hurt my arm.” you said, and he could hear the real pain in your voice.

“I’ll take her to the nurse.” Stacy said.

Eddie heard the sound of footsteps, and quickly slipped out of the school before Mrs. Jane caught him escaping.

Yeah, he was going to need something stronger than a cigarette after this.

I really didn't think the original blurb would get much attention lol

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#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you

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casuallivi · 3 days ago

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The Midnight Kiss

Warning: blink and you have a giant doc worthy of flashbacks but moving the story forward is a hassle to you, huh? this is a self critique. I guess in the end we do write what we want to read, there's no escaping our kinks.

Enjoy. Comments are welcomed and cherished :)

Part 9: 500 days of Azriel - part 2

DAY 348

“Hold for me!”

The feminine pitch echoed in the parking lot, bags fumbling against her ribs and sneakers thumping in concrete as she ran for the elevator, Azriel using a hand to keep the door open.

“Good morning, sexy.” A slightly out of breath Elain greeted him coming into view, a messy braid swaying from one shoulder to the other.

“That’s no way no greet your boss.” He stepped aside, allowing her to enter. “Don’t mimic me.”

“I wasn’t gonna,” Elain denied mid eye-roll, mouth already twisting to repeat his words. “I wasn’t! Gosh, you’re stiff from sunrise to sundown, and not in the fun way.”

Ignoring her blunt lie Azriel took the heavy black bag containing a heavy camera support from her shoulders and pressed their floor number.

“You chatter from sunrise to sundown, and don't see me complaining.”

Her braid slapped him in the chest, Elain turning to look at a him, mouth hanging open as if she could not believe her ears.

“Are you freaking kidding me!?! Of course, you do! You complain about it all. the. time!”

“Nah, that doesn’t sound like a me thing.”

“Unbelievable. Hold this.” she muttered pulling the light orange scrunchie from the end of her braid, nimble fingers combing through her hair to undo the thing. Azriel slipped the accessory in his wrist, watching she bang her head from one side to the other.

“Are you trying to get messier?”

“I’m giving it a sexy spin. You wouldn’t know nothing about that miss my-mommy-combs-my-hair-every-morning.”

A couple more shakes and she was done, picking her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and opening the camera app, moving her neck this way and that to check herself.

“Say My girlfriend is the sexiest in the whole world!”

Azriel frowned at the blinding flash lights coming out of nowhere.

“A little warning.”

“I like organic moments. And you never come out looking ugly anyways. Is infuriating.” She moved closer to him, opening her phone gallery and proceeding to show him the picture.

Azriel barely paid attention to himself, eyes fixed entirely on Elain, mapping the constellation of freckles framing the bridge of her nose and puffed cheeks pushed upwards by a big smile. Then her finger was swiping on the screen, showing him three more photos she managed to snap in succession

"Look at my lazy eye! Christ, even glaring you look good. Never managed to catch up with an open mouth, eyes rolling, sneezing, poking your nose, nothing! It’s like you are prepared every goddamn time.”

He chuckled at her indignation.

“Why do you take so many pictures?”

Elain shrugged.

“I like documenting stuff. Stuff that catch my attention.”

“Everything catches your attention. You have the attention span of a hyperactive toddler.”

“Oh, shut it. I bet you have some weird photos in your phone, you probably collect feet or something. Where is it?”

A sneaky hand quickly found its way to his front pocket, Elain made sure her eyes were wild open to taunt him. "My, my, is this phone in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

She didn’t wait for him to answer, taking the phone out with a false victory cry.

“What’s your password? No! Let me guess…. 0828?”

Her question caught him by surprise.

“You remember my birthday?”

“Sure! How could I forget you’re a tight little virgin?” Elain pumped her eyebrows up and down, getting an eye roll as response. “Wait a minute,”

“Here we go.”

Azriel stepped out from the elevator making away to the rented shoot set, not bothering to check if Elain was following. He knew she was. She would never pass an opportunity to tell him whatever nonsense she had come up with.

“Now that I think about it… does that mean I get to pop your cherry?” She gasped exaggeratedly, placing a hand in her heart. “Do not worry Marino, I’ll do right by you, I’ll give –”

“All right now, let’s not. 1234. The password is 1234.”

Elain typed the password clicking her tongue, a fake expression of disappointment fixed in place.

“Christ, you’re a grandpa. This is a terrible password, too easy to remember.”

“That’s why I put it.”

“That’s why is bad.”

She went on and on about him being an old guy who was not deserving of technology, Azriel not really paying her much attention until she squealed like a guttered bunny.

“Oh my god,”

Elain exited the gallery and return dozens of times, thinking his phone may had malfunctioned or something. Nope, the phone was working just fine. She waved it in his face.

“Why are there no pictures in here?”

“There are.” Azriel said nonchalantly, jerking his chin at the few images appearing in his gallery.

All impersonal and irrelevant, mostly pictures exchanged throughout the day in Marinos’ group chat. Elain shook her head in denial.

“I mean personal pictures, pictures of things you captured with your camera because you liked them, not because they are in a vision board from next month’s issue.”

Azriel frowned in confusion

“Why would I take pictures? I can just look at the things I want.”

Elain let out a dramatic gasp, hand to heart and everything. Before she could berate him a chirpy blonde fellow approached them.

“Morning boss. Morning El. What me to set you up?”

“Morning Tommy. You can take the bag from the handsome.”

Nonchalant, Azriel dropped the bag in the boys arms not bothering to make the transition easy, Elain’s assistant for the day nearly collapsing under the weight. Azriel watched the new intern struggling not to drag the bag away.

“I don’t like him.” He said serious. Not an ounce of strength in those arms. He would not last.

"You don't like anyone."

Morning El.

"I specially don't like him."

“Are you a serial killer?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

"This is not normal."

His phone was pushed on his chest and then Elain was back on her phone, frantically swiping her fingers across hundreds of pictures gleaming in the bright screen. Literally hundreds. She gave him the phone and Azriel kept scrolling. Different shoots of ice cream, juice, pizza, donuts, pasta and other food related items passed by.

“Are you setting a portfolio for a culinary magazine?” he joked.

Elain slapped him in the arm, the aggression changing to a caress when her fingers splayed over his shirt, curling around his covered biceps.

“God, you’re big. Strong too.”

“Open space. Office hours.” He chanted, not bothering to remove her hand. Once could say he flexed a little, but Azriel would firmly deny.

“I know. What were we talking about?”

“Food.”

“Yeah, food… I could eat you up.” She sighted lost in a dream.

“Elain.”

“I said food gives me joy.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. Judging by her phone gallery, everything gave her joy. Parcs, dogs, kids, houses, rain, trains, books, fresh laundry. Eventually, his employees began to fill the screen as well, goofing in their spare time, posing in the allocated sets with some model, posing with props, taking mirror selfies, cataloging material in their reunions, then it came him. Azriel clicked on a couple pictures of him taken recently, face serious and sleeves rolled upwards as he examined a variety of reports covering the meeting room table. He turned to Elain, questioning her with a look

"You look good when you are focused." She shrugged. “By the way, you don’t have to make the intern cry. I know you don’t believe it, but it is possible to treat people nicely and not die on the spot.”

Azriel sighed deeply. Never a single topic with this one. Elain’s mind had a tendency of jumping from one subject to the other, the conversation never floating in a single direction.

“I’m not running a daycare, Archeron. I’m their boss.”

“I know that. I still think you can be less of an asshole,” suddenly, she pointed a finger at him saying, “and praise! Everyone likes a little praising every once in a while. You never praise anyone! It’s absurd.”

“When one of them do something worthy of my praise, they’ll receive it.” A bit of silence passed, and Azriel could feel Elain starring a hole at his face. “What?”

“It’s that your kink? Making someone working hard for your praise?”

The more his ears turned red, the playful glint in her eyes shining brighter. Where Azriel wasn’t one to make jokes or sexual innuendos in public, Elain used them as a second language, not ashamed to shoot her shot any time. At first he thought he hated her jokes, annoyed at how inconvenient she was. Later, Azriel realized his annoyance came from the fact that he was not able to quip her with a response, a fitting rebuke only coming to mind when it was already too late.

“Do you like receiving it or giving it? No matter, I guarantee I can satisfy you either way.”

“Nope. I’m done talking with you now,” he announced walking away from her. “I have real work to do.”

“I work too you know! I make the stars in this set shine!” She yelled after him. “Have a good day, lover!”

DAY 424

“All I’m saying is you can tell me. I’m your brother, for fucks sake.” Cassian whined loudly from his chair, legs shaking like a goddamn toddler.

“I’m not talking to you.” Azriel said from behind is computer.

“Come on, bro. All I’m asking is a little bit of gossip from how are things progressing with our sweet little Lainy. For example, has she taken your virginity yet?”

"She's not yours anything." Aziel said monotonously, not bothering to give his brother too much attention. “And I am not a virgin.”

“Men don’t count.”

“Fuck off.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure our Lainy won’t –”

“Not yours.”

"Agree to disagree. Since you decided playing this fake dating shit, she sure ought to be my something." Cassian taunted. “Come on Az, I know you are not dating her. You can come clean now, I won’t judge. Much.”

Azriel watched his brother, his restless hand tapping against the armrest, the smirk that didn’t quite meet the eye. His brow furrowed.

Azriel and Cassian had a complicated relationship in boyhood, having to relearn how to navigate around each other once they were adults. The boys weren't in speaking terms for two years of their late teens and the majority of their twenties. When they were seen together at last, everyone assumed the brothers made piece to take over the family business because it was the natural outcome for them.

In reality the biggest reason behind Azriel’s return to America was Marinos wasn’t as profitable as before. While Azriel followed Morrigan across the globe her modeling career took flight but his grandfather got sick, and Cassian –who had always been the favorite for choosing to learn the finance trade– took over the family publishing business, only then discovering the trojan horse his favorite relative had left him. Their grandfather’s entire publishing business was facing bankruptcy, the magazine being one of the remaining divisions that still hadn’t gone under.

By the time he asked for Azriel's help, it was too late to save most of the branches, but Azriel did his utter best to save Marinos –a fashion magazine originally envisioned by his mother that no one ever really cared about. It cost him four years of strenuous hard work, twenty percent of the shares sold, multiple department changes, function extinctions and staff rearrangements, and the woman he thought it was the love of his life gone, but Azriel got Marinos back to its feet.

Azriel watched his brother, the nasty memory of their split replaying in his mind. It would be a lie for him to say pettiness wasn't what guide him to drop himself -almost- on top of Elain Archeron on that night. The woman had a massive crush on Cass, and knowing his brother's ego as he did, Cass was probably nursing said crush to act on it. That night Azriel’s drunken mind conjured a reality where if he was lucky, he would make his brother a little jealous, just enough to give him a bit of satisfaction. A petty payback for succeeding in doing what Azriel never could.

“You are awfully interested in my girlfriend.”

“Am I?”

Seeing his brother show such blunt display of interest in Elain gave Azriel a couple emotions, and satisfaction was none of them. It doomed on his mind that he had become attached to Elain rather quickly, because playing petty games Morrigan and his brother didn’t seem so interesting anymore.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them, Cassian sneer daring him to submit, to speak first, to cry and beg and plead for his brother to leave him alone as he would do when they were kids. Azriel wasn’t a kid anymore.

Cassian opened his mouth, and Azriel would never hear what he was about to say. Two knocks on the wood and the brothers broke their staring contest as a twirling Elain made her way into the room, the skirt of her dress swaying around her legs.

“See? I told you it wouldn’t wrinkle! I’m all ready for – Cassian.”

Her eyes grown bigger mid-sentence, surprised to find his brother there, same brother who wasted no time in placing two finger on his mouth whistling loudly.

“I'm ready for you too. Looking good, Lainy.”

"You're back."

Azriel watched her expression change from mirthful to bashful. He wondered if she was feeling shy of embarrassed. He hoped it was the latter.

“Yep, and just in time to make your wishes come true. I’m not Santa, but you can sit on my lap and tell me everything you want. I'll give it to you."

“Christmas in long gone, Cass.” She snorted.

“Oh, a daddy is never of duty,” he winked at her.

Elain suppressed her giggle, Azriel gagging all the wall to the coach hanger. “You are disgusting.”

Cassian ignored him, all smirk and bravado as he got up and moved toward Elain, malice radiating from every step. He appraised her from head to toe. It was a rare event to see Elain in a dress. Glittering eyelids matched the cleave-free green dress that stopped a few inches above her knees, white flats completing her look. His eyes returned on her knees, his smile dropping, replaced by a frown. There, pinkish than the rest of her skin, laid a perpendicular scar dividing her knee in half, stretch marks from the stitches leaving the skin heightened in a standing position. Cassian had never noticed that scar before. He wondered if it was new.

Elain cleared her throat, a blue jacket appeared in his line of sight as she repositioned the piece of clothing in her arms to cover herself, uncomfortable with his stare. Cassian smiled at her, deciding it was best not to ask about it.

“So, where we going?”

He offered her a hand, the promise of a kiss in his eyes. Elain had always loved the kisses he deposited in her hands and cheeks, lips lingering on her skin to enjoy the squirm she thought he couldn’t notice. He did notice, every time. Cassian loved making her squirm, delighting in her little crush.

For the great shock of a nation, Cassian had not fucked Elain, but now that his brother was he wondered if he had missed some kind of swift opportunity. Elain wasn’t ugly, and it had been a long time since he found a match to his twisted sense of humor. What a delight it was that her sense of humor came wrapped in a package with a killer pair of legs, which should definitely be exposed more often. His look drift to her chest. She didn’t have much in that department but that didn’t matter much, he was more of an ass man anyways. No, Elain wasn’t ugly at all, and Cassian liked looking at her very much.

She could dress better, tho. He preferred his women with smoked eyes, sexy dresses, thigh slits and high heels. Women looked very fuckable in heels, all perched ass and tits pushing in his direction. He loved it.

Brown eyes sparkled with joy, a pretty smile blooming on her lips as she raised her hand. Except she did not place it in his expecting one, no. A harsh push forced him to the side, Azriel replacing him to take her hand, a light kiss landing on the back.

“You looked lovely.” He complimented taking her from the room. Not bothering to say goodbye to his brother, choosing to forget he existed all together.

"Good enough to eat?"

"Behave."

"Only 'cause you asked, love."

Contrary to Azriel, Elain had not forgot Cassian was there.

"We are going on a date!" She shouted back at him while Azriel walked faster to get her away from his brother. Cunning bastard.

Cassian watched her wrap her other hand around his brother’s flaccid biceps, smiling as she murmured softly to him. His expression faltered for a second. What was so funny about Azriel’s sad lack of mass muscle? Fixing his face, he jogged towards the couple, reaching them near the elevator, meddling in the middle to keep them apart, an arm around his brother and the other around Elain.

"Now this is a development I had not seen coming. Lainy, is this some kind of bet gone wrong? You can tell me if it is, as his boss I have the power to set you free."

"You are not my boss," Azriel pipped at the same time Elain said, "We are good."

Under his arm, Elain shrugged. Azriel breaking free to go stand at her other side, pulling her by the waist till she parted from Cassian.

“This makes no sense. You are two fight like dogs… Is little Azzy threatening you?” Cassian concluded at last. “Is that it? You can tell me if he is, I’ll beat his ass for you.”

Elain simple laughed.

"Please, like he could handle me. Did you know that my sister,"

"Is a professional MMA fighter." Azriel finished the sentence in her place, winning an ugly glare. "Yes, he knows, everybody knows. You've mentioned it. Several times."

“Meddlesome.”

“Broken record.”

“Maybe he didn’t know.”

“He knows.”

“How do you know? You’re not entitled to everyone’s knowledge.”

She bumped him with her hip, Azriel not moving an inch, and turned to Cassian.

"Anyway, your brother confessed his undying love for me, and how all that stress was his way of demonstrating affection. Like a little boy pulling the pigtails of the girl he thinks is pretty." She sighed deeply. "I knew my irresistible charms would get me in trouble someday."

"I'm right here." Azriel reprehended pulling her closer.

"Oh my, you are here, love? You are so pretty for a second there I thought you were a painting." She slapped him lightly on the cheek, Azriel grabbing her wrist on the second tap.

“No hitting.”

”Why? Is it that your kink?” She asked using a tone Cassian could not distinguish, as if she was sharing an inside joke with his brother.

The elevator doors opened, his existence completely forgotten by the couple bickering as they walked inside and off they went.

DAY 489

Had someone told him he would be outside his girlfriend’s apartment, making out against a door like a couple of fucking horny teenagers, he’d have called the bloke mad. Now here he was, being the mad man himself. One side of her overall had unbuttoned, the metallic piece rasping on the wood as Azriel pressed Elain harder against the door, two bodies merging together.

The goodnight kiss was supposed to be gentle, a tender caress to remember till he saw her again. Azriel would be gone for a couple days, and Elain insisted he walked her upstairs before he left.

“I’m not coming in,” he warned her back in the car.

“Just walk me to my door, that is.”

“I will. But I’m not coming in.”

“Gee, you said that. I just want to give you a proper goodbye,” she said with false innocence.

Liar.

Once upstairs she invited him inside again, but Azriel would budge.

“Fine. Can I at least get a kiss?”

He gave her a peck.

“Goodnight, Elain.” He said knowingly. Azriel called her by last name to annoyed her, a petulant childish trait that he seemed to have absorbed around her.

Determined hands wrapped around the lapels of his suit, Elain tiptoeing to tug him down.

“I wear black and white you think I'm a nun? Don’t you dare leave after giving me this slob sorry excuse of a kiss Azriel, or I swear to God –” Her empty threat was swallowed by a kiss.

Azriel wouldn’t admit to a soul, but riling her up was fun. Their breaths mingled in a slow and sloppy kiss, Azriel walking her backwards up till she hit her door, a painful hiss drowning on the slow sleek of his tongue. In the many days following their agreement Azriel and Elain had kissed many times, which had him quickly learning that she was a frenetic kisser, aggressive in her necessity to take the lead in a succession of hurried uncoordinated motions as someone who was ready to torn her clothes apart, moving too fast as she often did in every other aspect of her life.

Like a caveman first discovering fire, he enjoyed her enthusiasm with an intense amount of male pride burning in his chest. The problem was his body was still recovering from the aftermaths of a bad love. Until Elain, Azriel had only ever loved one woman in his life, had only ever been with her. Sure, he had been on a date here and there when things went south and they broke up for a few days of weeks. Pity-dates set by friends who could not understand why a twenty-something hadn't had a single girlfriend in his entire life, pity-dates set by worried familiars who secret thought him homosexual.

He remembered being set up with solid young women whose personalities were nearly a mirror of his own, having forgettable dates where he couldn't, for the life of him, recall what they talked about, kissing some of them goodbye with a lie ready on his lips that they should do it again. Tepid kisses that were closer to a handshake than caress between possible lovers. He went to bed with none of them.

Looking back, it was almost laughable how he caught Morrigan in an intimate act with another men more times than he liked to count but had never managed to move forward with another woman himself. Too hung up in a promise she had no interest in fulfilling. Now Azriel was done chasing a woman who had no love to give him, but his body was still fearful of getting with someone different, someone new.

He needed more time to adjust, time his volcano of a girlfriend seemed to not need at all. Tenacious hands found their way inside his jacket, running wild all the way from his hip to his neck, pressing him harder against herself, her soft breast rasping against his dress shirt with every move she made. So he had to educate her.

Where Elain was a trashing hurricane, Azriel was a placid running river, moving with deliberate slow and steadiness, guiding the kiss to a less hectic pace, leisured wet tongue kisses mingled with soft peck to stable his breathe, strong hands shaping the outside of her body without being too brazen, bold enough to soothe his curiosity in caressing her body but enough to blur the lines he wasn't ready to cross.

Hands moved to him front, trailing down from his chest to his waistline, closing precariously around his belt to get him closer. Azriel stopped the kiss, pulling away slightly. Blown-wild pupils had nearly encased the entirety of her irises, a breathless Elain looking up and expectant at him.

“I want to see you naked," she hushed. Quiet words spoken in a frenzy, a solid request with no shyness in the borders.

Despite his efforts to mellow the kisses, his heart thundered inside his chest. The feeling of soft curves molding perfectly to the hard shapes of his body making him dizzy. He collared her neck, not to choke, just to hold her in place.

“What would your neighbors say?"

Azriel meant to sound playful, calm. He sounded lustful and agitated.

Elain watched him like a hawk, searching his eyes for a bit, noting the tension in his shoulders, the uneasiness in his strained smile, a quiet tell for a question she would not ask. Not yet. With a yielding sigh, she hid her face in his chest.

"She’d probably thank you, that lady is a pervert,” came her muffled reply. “We could put on show for her.”

"Is that your kink? Exhibitionism?" His smugness could not be missed, Azriel feeling pretty proud of himself for the quick thinking. Elain had been antagonizing him about kinks for weeks, now it was his turn to make her hot and uncomfortable.

"Dunno. Wanna help me figure it out?" He groaned lordly. Of course she wouldn’t stay down. “I bet she’s more kinky, tho. Did you know she watches porn without headphones?” She lifted her head again, face soured by the memory. “We do not have good soundproofing walls, Marino. Sometimes I can hear it as I'm climbing upstairs!"

Azriel chuckled, moving his hand to her face, his thumb making circular motion in her cheek. Even at night Elain seemed to glow, her supple skin calling at him, begging for a stroke, for a touch, for a kiss. So soft and so, so,

“So pretty,” he finished out loud. The unsolicited compliment turning her face red.

She recovered quickly, fully leaning into his hand to say, “I’m prettier naked. Wanna see?”

“Out in the hallway?” He challenged mildly.

“Out in the hallways.”

“For everyone to see?”

“Eve-ry-one.” She said secured. “But mostly you.”

“You are confident."

“Maybe I am an exhibitionist.”

Azriel laughed quietly, cradling her face in both hands now, a kiss landing in her forehead. Having known Elain for over a year, Azriel has lost count of how many sexual innuendos he heard coming out of her mouth. He was mostly shocked at first, mildly annoyed later, and full-on done with them once Cassian joined the mix, an insufferable nasty match that could put hookers to shame. Then he asked her to date him, and Elain perverted agenda had seemed to find a new single target: him.

Azriel would have been caught by surprise had he not been so used to her being deliberately inappropriate. Elain wanted to have sex with him and would spare no efforts to make sure Azriel understood that, but Azriel was scare to correspond because he wasn’t sure of how his body would react with a new partner.

Truth be told, he was scare he would not react at all.

“I’m sorry.”

"If you apologize for that I'll feel like a predator." Elain grimaced, exhaling in defeat. "It’s all right, rain check on exhibitionism. This is actually a very good choice you know, I remembered I'm wearing an ugly beige bra."

Azriel gave her one last kiss.

“My favorite color.”

“You would, wouldn’t you? You do seem like a guy with a boring favorite color.”

DAY 500

Her shirt had been distracting him all afternoon. The darned thing wasn’t even a sexy one, just a simple white cotton t-shirt with a stupid drawing of potted plants having a conversation.

Azriel used her jeans belt loops to turn her around till her ass was pressed on the table "You are fun, but funny, tsk tsk. Funny is a big stretch."

His fingers dug in her in waist, cutting her cognitive abilities, stopping her from registering the insult. "Cute shirt."

Elain looked down on her white tee design, where two potted plants were having a conversation. One saying, "Aloe, how are you?", the other "Hey, long Thyme no see."

"Thanks."

He traced her lower lip, muttering. "No lipstick, today?"

Her tongue darted outside, meeting the pad of his thumb. "Didn't want to smear you."

"Glass walls. Office hours." Came his low warning.

The usually cool space of the meeting room now felt like a glass furnace, his body burning from the inside out.

"Technically, we are past office hours.” She countered with a sassy tone. “I'm friends with Marie, you know, the cleaning lady. She gave these glass walls an extra glow this morning, I can guarantee you'll find no germs in it. Now, if you wanna put some germs in it, I have a few ideas about what we could press there. Who. You. could press there. But I should warn you, the dress code suggestion may get a little skimpy."

There was no hidding his smile now, except he wasn't amused. His smile was wicked, smoldering hazel eyes hiding delirious promises. Azriel cleaned her saliva over her cheek, finding her neck. Before he could rip a page from her book and make a nasty suggestion of where to put her tongue next, knuckles rapped on the wall, a voice calling for him.

"Az."

Azriel blinked, relaxation morphing into anxiety. He didn’t recognize it at first. The voice that had not called him in a while. Her voice.

“Az?” She tried again.

Blood drained from his face. Azrriel didn’t move. Couldn’t move. The sound of clicking hills filled the unnatural silence, and he knew he could not escape any long. It would come any time now.

"Az... Azriel."

There it was. The trembling call, the crying in her voice. He withdrew from Elain completely, no wanting to soil her with the disgust leaking out of him. Taking a deep breath, Azriel faced Morrigan at last.

“Hi,” she said with trembling lips.

He didn’t greet her back. Didn’t bother too.

"Can we talk? Please. I really need to speak with you."

His heart beat faster. Beneath his skin a new kind of emotion began to shimmer, rageful and blinding, so overwhelming he didn't process Elain's soft "I'll give you a minute," didn't felt the comforting swipe of her hand on his back before she left them alone.

Elain left him and Morrigan stayed.

“I missed you. I’ve called and called and you did not answer me. You know I need you,”

Morrigan was talking.

Morrigan was talking to him.

Her mouth was moving and he had no fucking clue about what she was saying.

Azriel couldn’t listen to a single word, too busy watching her. Watching her meticulously painted cherry red lips. Not a smudge in place, not even when a tear slipped past her black-lined eye the red did not smudge. She remained perfectly put together. He followed the lonely tear all the way to her chin. From there, Azriel kept going, descending to the gold choker around her tanned neck, to the strapless blood red jumpsuit that left her arms and neck uncovered but protected everything else all the way to her ankles, finishing in the black stilettos that made no more noise because she hadn’t move an inch.

Azriel would have easily fell for it in the past. The watery eyes, the singular tear drop streaming down her cheek, the trembling lips to make sure each word came out a little shaky, just enough to make her look pitiful, careful to still enunciate them properly for him to understand every word.

Words he'd latch on, let it sink, let it drown him in guilt and misery and a feeling of longing for a relationship that never existed outside of his head.

Now that he didn't listen to her, Azriel saw her. Her well-manicured coffin nails, the sunglasses on top of her head, the lasted Dior jumpsuit draped over her body. Nothing in her posture or clothes showed a person suffering as she claimed to be.

Azriel saw Morrigan and it saddened him how easily it was to manipulate him.

To let himself be manipulated.

“Are you done?” His question was cold, cutting her sob story in half.

Morrigan sniffed, big brown eyes looking pitifully at him until she saw his resigned expression. His lack of will to entertain her. That's when her face changed, her real self breaking through the cracks of the insecure and pitiful persona she was trying to play. She looked at him regal and feral, Morrigan looked at him with the uttermost conviction that she could bring him back to her world in the snap of her fingers.

"Are you done?" she repeated back at him. Voice clear as water.

"I'm done with you."

"Stop this bullshit Azriel, we both know you don't have it in you." She pulled a small hand mirror from her purse, padding the area beneath her eye where a second tear was coming down. "I've entertained you long enough. It's time for you to go back to where you belong."

"And where would that be?"

"Beside me."

Azriel was stunned for a second. Then he was laughing, howling even. His laughter was a sad thing, carved from disbelief. He must have misheard her. Behind me, that's where she meant. Behind her, after her, pinning for her like a dog while she lived her life to the fullest not bothering to give a fuck about him. Azriel ran a hand over his hair to pull the edges hard, moving on to rub his face furiously. No, no, no. He wasn't doing this, he wasn't going to entertain her anymore.

Sharp nails carved a path on his forearm as he tried to pass by her, Morrigan grabbing him with all the strength she could must.

"What are you doing?"

"Leaving."

"I'm talking, Azriel."

"I'm not listening, Mor."

Azriel held her stare, all the love he once felt turning into an ugly thing inside his chest. She held him harder, nails sinking deeper. Her voice reflecting every ounce of authority she deem to exercise over him

"I'm talking, Azriel. And you're listening."

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drmaddict · 11 months ago

Text

Spooky Girl

Summary: Ghost, Soap, Rudy and König have a girlfriend who just likes things, that are a bit spooky. (Just a few little scenes that my brain spit out.)

Wordcount: 2.497

Ghost

"Are you growing your hair out, L.T.?" Johnny laughed and flicked Simon's wrist.

Simon reacted as expected. Not at all. He stared at Johnny motionlessly.

"Fits the look, after all.", the sergeant winked at him.

Simon rolled his eyes and pulled his sleeve over the hairband on his wrist.

Johnny continued to grin. "My sisters say these scrunchies are best for the hair. There's less friction. So no split ends."

Simon continued to stare at him.

"Are you going to tell me why you've got that thing on?", he grumbled.

"No.", was Simon's simple answer before he turned back to his food. It was nobody's business. (Y/n) was nobody's business, or what was between them. It was still too fresh anyway. This was his first mission since they had met. He wasn't sure what to make of this relationship yet. He liked her. It wasn't because of that. He was just too used to being alone. It scared him. His therapist would probably have found a bigger, more important-sounding word for his emotions, but fear seemed appropriate enough to Simon.

She was weird. He was weird too. He had started to like the weirdness. He was probably too old for her. Maybe he wasn't. He'd never been in a relationship. He'd never had to discuss the fact that his hoodies were actually HIS hoodies until a few months ago. She had only told him that they were hers now, as if that was the most normal thing in the world. But she looked really cute in them. She'd beamed at him when he'd unceremoniously thrown three of his hoodies on her bed.

"Until I get back.", he'd mumbled.

She had then pulled her hairband off her head and put it around his wrist. The black satin with the little skulls on it was soft and had immediately clung to his skin.

"So that you'll really come back.", she had said and kissed him on the forehead.

"Always.", he had mumbled.

"Who is she?" Johnny asked him directly. He looked at him with gentle playfulness.

Simon snapped out of his memory. He looked into his friend's blue eyes. "You don't trust me with a 'he'?", he grinned under his mask.

"Well then HE definitely has long hair."

Simon shook his head in amusement. "A little one from home. It's still fresh."

"Photo?", Johnny continued to grin.

Simon shook his head.

"Oh come on!"

"No Johnny."

Johnny looked at him like a petulant puppy. "At least describe her.", he sulked.

Simon sighed and rummaged for a small photo in his pocket. The boy wouldn't stop anyway. He plonked it in front of the sergent and stared at it.

Johnny stared at the photo. "A goth chick?" Johnny reached for the photo, but Simon immediately pulled it back to him and put it away. Johnny looked at him in surprise. "Hot.", he grinned.

Simon just grumbled.

"Yes, I get it. I can see it. You fit together."

Another grumble.

Johnny grinned like an idiot.

"What?", Simon snapped at him.

"Does she have a friend?"

Simon just rolled his eyes. His cell phone buzzed.

A message from (Y/n). When he opened the message history, he saw a picture of a rabbit skull.

'For your collection?' it said underneath.

Simon looked at the picture. He had been glad, that she didn't see his little hobby as disgusting. But that she was now also participating in it. It was a beautiful bone. Completely intact.

'Beautiful. Where did you get it?‘

'Judas picked it up on our walk.‘

Judas was her dog. A stubborn but tough creature. It was probably her type.

'Put it on the ant farm. I'll bleach him when I come back next week.‘

'The three of us are waiting for you. ;)'

When he looked up again, Johnny was still grinning at him.

"The little one really has you wrapped around her finger."

Simon just raised an eyebrow.

"Good for you L.T."

Simon grumbled in agreement.

Soap

"What magazine did you cut that out of?" Kyle laughed.

Soap pulled off his boots. "Huh?" he groaned and looked at his friend.

Kyle pointed to Johnny's locker page and the photo hanging in it.

Johnny followed Kyle's suggestion with his gaze and immediately furrowed his eyebrows. "That's my girlfriend you douche!"

"That's never your girlfriend! She's far too pretty... Apart from the fetish make-up."

Johnny threw his boot at Gaz. "Don't talk about my girl like that!", he growled.

Gaz raised his hands defensively. A grin stretched across his face. "Oh come on."

Johnny continued to scowl at him. Simon came into the changing room and looked at them both wordlessly. Without another comment, he went to his locker.

"How can you always train with that thing on your head?", Johnny asked him.

"Habit.", came the curt reply.

Johnny rolled his eyes as Gaz clapped his hands with a laugh. "So you've got a type!"

Johnny looked at him in confusion. Simon paid him no attention at all.

"Dark and intimidating," Garrick winked at him and nodded towards Simon.

Johnny followed his gaze and a blush immediately appeared on his cheeks.

"I don't have a type!", he barked.

Gaz chuckled in amusement. "Sure."

Simon slammed his locker shut conspicuously loudly and disappeared just as wordlessly as he had come.

The two of them looked after him.

"She's very different from him.", Johnny grumbled immediately.

"Is she?"

"Yes, she's very reserved, but when you get to know her better, she's really funny. She likes to tell jokes, you know? Even if she's more into dark humor. And she likes her order, but accepts my chaos and she's not immediately put off by my job. Well, she goes to therapy, but she's actually really tough."

"Where did you two meet?"

"At a shooting range for my brother-in-law's stag party. She's really amazing. She could almost be a sniper and..." Johnny eyes widened.

Gaz grinned knowingly.

"Oh God! I'm dating L.T.!" Johnny exclaimed, overwhelmed.

"Really, how did you notice?"

Johnny threw his second boot at him. "What if I'm just trying to replace something with her?", he asked anxiously.

Now Gaz looked at him, confused. "What now?"

"Well... What if I subconsciously just saw her as a replacement. God I'm such an asshole."

"How many times did you try to enroll before you were finally eighteen?", Gaz asked him firmly.

"I stopped counting. What's that got to do with it?"

Gaz shrugged his shoulders. "You're nuts, but you know what you want. You've never accepted an alternative before."

Johnny looked at the photo in the locker. "No I never have."

Gaz nodded. "You clearly have a thing for mentally unstable Halloween decorations, but that doesn't mean you only want the girl as a substitute."

Johnny nodded. "Yeah, you're right. She's really great, you know?"

Gaz grinned. "I'll take your word for it."

"She always makes chocolate muffins, that look like the little coal men from Chihiro.", Johnny smiled at the photo. "And she can cook! I really put some weight on the last time, I was with her. It's almost like the good old times at grandmas.", he grinned to himself. "Even if it scares me a little, how relaxed she is with the house ghost."

"Please what??" Gaz blinked at him in surprise.

"The house ghost. She calls him Edgar. After the guy who built the house. She bought this old victorian house and at night you can always hear the back door banging open and shut and someone running up and down the stairs. But never up to the top floor. That was built on later. I nearly wet my pants the first night, when I went to see what was going on and this gigantic mirror fell on me. The thing was secured with six sturdy wall anchors! SIX! Well, I didn't set foot in the house for two weeks after that, but she says she's negotiating a deal."

Gaz looked at him with horror in his eyes.

Johnny shrugged his shoulders. "I'm used to it by now. But the noise is a bit annoying."

Gaz gave him a forced smile. "You see. You don't have anything like that with Ghost... No ghosts with Ghost."

Rudy

He was sitting in his small kitchen with Alejandro, listening to everything about Ale's last date, until they were interrupted by a loud noise.

Ale flinched in surprise and looked at the kitchen counter behind him. Rudy immediately ran to the counter and grabbed a cell phone. He wiped the green icon across the display and held it to his ear.

"(Y/n)s phone. Rodolfo on the line. - Yes, you forgot it here. - No, no problem. - Good. See you in a minute."

He placed the device on the kitchen table and looked into Alejandro's shocked face. "What? Was? That?"

"(Y/n) left her cell phone."

Ale looked at him like he was stupid. "What was that sound?"

"Her ringtone?" Rudy replied hesitantly. "Yeah... Her taste in music is a bit... special," he admitted, looking at the device again.

"A bit? It sounded like a pig had been tormented.", Alejandro said indignantly.

Rudy grinned. "Somehow that relaxes her." He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. "I think the band was called... I can't remember. Lorna something."

Ale looked at him skeptically. "Wait. Is she coming over? I can finally see the mystery (y/n) with my own eyes?"

Rudy sighed. "Be nice, please."

"I'm always nice."

"Hmph."

Ale gave him an annoyed look. "I'll pull myself together."

"No subliminal threats.", Rudy stated firmly.

Alejandro started to speak, but didn't get the chance.

"And certainly no direct ones!"

The colonel fell back against the back of his chair, annoyed. It wasn't as if he had no manners. If anything, some even found his temperament attractive.

"Fine," he grumbled.

Rudy nodded in satisfaction as he heard the front door open.

"Hey." (Y/n) called down the small hallway.

Rudy stood up and walked towards her.

Alejandro didn't know what he had expected, but somehow he had always imagined her... pinker.

When Rudy spoke of his girlfriend, it sounded like he was talking about the sweetest creature on earth, who couldn't hurt a soul. Alejandro had envisioned a girl in a summer dress with pink lipgloss kissing Rudy on the cheek.

What he saw was a girl dressed in black. Transparent cut-outs, heavy boots and various buckles adorned her body.

Her lips, which Alejandro had always imagined to be pink, were painted black, just like her eyes.

She gave Rudy a quick kiss on the lips. "Sorry, I'm only here for a moment. Sofia got tickets for a concert today. I'd rather not ask how. Oh hi!"

She waved to Alejandro.

"This is Alejandro." Rudy introduced him.

He waved at (Y/n), overwhelmed.

"I'm (Y/n)." she replied quickly.

"You sure?" asked Ale before he could stop himself.

Rudy immediately gave him a warning look before turning back to (Y/n). "Be careful."

She kissed him again on the tip of his nose. "I'll text you when I get home. Bey Alejandro!" she called out and was already gone again.

Alejandro looked dully into the hallway. Rudy looked back with a raised eyebrow.

"Well I didn't expect THAT.", Alejandro said.

Rudy sighed.

"Oh come on! You described a lamb!" He threw his hands up in the air dramatically. "Not a little vampire. No matter how cute she seems to be."

Rudy sighed devotedly and sat down at the table.

"She's just like I told you."

"So... a black lamb?"

The corners of Rudy's mouth twitched. "Yes. That fits."

"To get back to the, let's call it 'music'."

"I don't get it either.", Rudy smiled with amusement.

König

"Little bat?" König asked his girlfriend cautiously. She was sitting in one of his shirts next to his legs in front of the couch, looking thoughtfully at her puzzle, while the movie of her choice was playing on TV.

"Yes Bear?" she asked without looking up.

His eyes darted to the television at a particularly organic sound, before quickly settling back on her.

"Um... I know I said 'My job is war and I can take more than nornal humans'."

(Y/n) looked up and grinned mockingly.

"But I admit that your warning was probably... justified."

She grinned at him openly. "No (y/n)! I've seen and done things-"

"All right!" he interrupted her. A woman on the television screamed. "Is this girl still alive?" he asked in disgust.

(Y/n) pressed a button on the remote control and the movie stopped.

"There's no way anyone could survive something like that," he huffed.

His little bat just took a sip of his coffee. "The lore is, that Art keeps someone alive ,until he's satisfied. He decides when you die."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"It's horror. It's not supposed to make sense." She patted his gigantic thigh. "You held out very well, but you dropped out of the movie. You lost the bet. You have to order today.", she smiled mischievously.

He grumbled and reached for the tablet.

"No! You have to call! That was the bet."

He looked murderously at the phone. He hated ordering food. Which made no sense, considering his job and his career in it. He was a grown man. He made most people afraid, but still. These everyday situations weren't exactly easy for him. It wasn't like it used to be, but it would never be normal either. Nobody had to like him in his job. No one expected him to be polite. In the real world, there were all these rules and unspoken regulations.

"Like always?" he asked her. She just nodded and went back to looking at her puzzle.

Sometimes it was funny. They both weren't the most confident when it came to social interaction, even though the world always thought they should be. Him because of his body. Her because of her look.

They had started making bets. The loser had to make phone calls or tell the waiter in the restaurant that the food was going back.

He ordered the pizza and felt (Y/n) put a hand on his knee. He had started wiggling his legs again. A habit that had always upset his mother. She stroked his knee with her thumb and he brought his limbs back to rest. With a sigh, he tossed the cell phone towards the pillow. It was nice that he didn't feel any anxiety with her. It was nice to have someone who gave him the space to find peace.

"What kind of picture is this going to be?", he asked her, stroking her hair and looking at the dark puzzle.

"Blackness."

"Blackness?"

"Yes. It's just black." She grinned.

"Why?"

"Because we as humans like to play God. The nice thing is... There's a reference picture."

He grinned. He loved how she was amused by little things like that. He loved his little bat. Her and her bloody pointless puzzle.

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yutarot · 2 months ago

Text

WOUNDED: nakamoto yuta — written series 1/3

PART ONE. a truth that you weren’t looking for

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

GENRES; romance, angst, undergroundfighter!yuta, forced proximity, strangers to lovers, college au.

WARNINGS; mentions of cheating (neither main characters cheat), mentions of sex, mention of smoking, language.

DISCLAIMER; all portrayals of people are fake and from my imagination, in no way am i claiming that they act like this irl.

TAGLIST—OPEN!

NOTES; here it is!!! hope you guys like the first part ♡

the night was nothing like how you remembered. the cool air of your dorm's half broken fan, whirring around aimlessly as you attempted to sleep. there wasn’t any reason for you to be restless, you had just celebrated your two year anniversary with your boyfriend, johnny, your best friend had just moved into the apartment opposite yours, and you had just received an A on last semester's final assignment.

your room was dark, the dim light from the kitchen only slightly seeping under the door, a yellow hue which saturated the shadow and somehow, you blamed it as being the reason you couldn’t get yourself to sleep.

but nothing about tonight was worth sleeping for.

saving the effort of having to get up in the morning, you sat up in your bed, swinging your legs to the side and bringing yourself to your feet. you decided that if you weren't going to sleep now, you wouldn't sleep at all. you'd spent the day in bed anyways, all your friends busy at parties you didn't feel like going to, even johnny had called you out on it.

you walk to your dorm kitchen, silence tracing behind your footsteps as you read the clock hands ahead of you.

2:48am. could be worse. you make your way over to the fridge, the cold chill of it blasting in your face as you reach for a carton of orange juice.

but before you could even reach to grab a glass, something, no, someone makes you stop in your tracks.

your boyfriend.

“johnny?” you question, voice little over a whisper. he stumbles across the room to you. you had given him a spare key a few months ago, expecting him to use it only in dire emergencies. so for him to be standing in your apartment, a stain on his shirt and eyes half closed, you can’t help but be concerned.

you rush over to him, hand reaching up to his forehead and checking his temperature, you repeat his name in hopes that his attention will turn to you.

“yyeaaaass.” he slurs.

he’s drunk.

“what are you doing here? your dorms on the other side of the campus?” you express your worry, taking his arm as he crushes you with his body weight. slowly and, albeit with a struggle, you settle him down on the sofa. you sit next to him, the smell of alcohol, sweat and– strangely vanilla– flooding your senses.

he smiles, his eyes lighting up, “i wanted.. to see you!”

you laugh to yourself, knowing his vision is probably way too blurry to even recognise where he is and ironically, he wipes his eyes with his right hand.

but you notice something.

something around his right wrist, something that isn't yours and most certainly, isnt his.

a blue scrunchie.

in that moment, it's as if he had pulled your heart out of your chest, tying the scrunchie around it in a cold yet graphically ignorant act of betrayal. but you still feel it pump in your chest, your heartbeat rising and rising and–

“johnny?” you ask, and he blinks to look at you, struggling to keep his head up.

“what’s this?” you grab at the scrunchie, snapping it against his wrist. your face is one of disapproval, of accusation, and he notices your spite.

“owww!” he yelps, “why’d you do that?” he leans back, pouting in a way that you used to find cute, that you used to find endearing. but not anymore, like your trust for him, your view on him is ruined, corrupted.

“johnny.” you say more sternly this time. “who’s is it?”

you can see the struggle in his eyes, the struggle of him trying to act like he’s somewhere he’s not, like this conversation isn’t happening. he’s avoiding it and you don’t know why. except, you know exactly why, if only you could accept it.

but you don't have to, not until he accidentally opens his mouth.

“not yours.” he sighs. “there was…” he sniffles, “this girl.”

you pull away from him, the hand that you had rested on his thigh now by your side. you knew it, and yet some deep part of you wanted to act like it wasn't true. whilst you were here, at war with yourself, struggling to sleep amidst the stupid drill of your fan’s blades, slicing through the air, there he was. betraying you, losing you, all for a girl in a blue scrunchie.

“what girl?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing.

he can’t look at you. he knows he shouldn’t be saying all this to you, but he can’t help himself.

“not you.”

those two words crash into you, pulling you out of the final ounce of delusion you had left. it was really true.

“did you sleep with her?” you ask. you know you're going to extremes, but it was either now or never. johnny looked like he was about to fall asleep, and you would never get this out of him sober.

“sleep with herrr?” he slurs again, before laughing deeply to himself. “hellll yeahhh.”

and so that was how your relationship with johnny suh ended, over a blue scrunchie, accompanied by a carton of orange juice and listening to the annoying whirr of your broken fan.

what a perfect end to an almost-perfect relationship.

the next few weeks, you drowned yourself in the concept of finding a better man. you signed up to all the dating sites, you dressed yourself beautifully for every trip to the supermarket and you even asked your bestfriend to set you up on a blind date.

“oh, come on, eunji, you must know at least one guy who’d be up for it.” you whine to your best friend, her distaste in the conversation evident as she begins to walk away from you the moment you both stepped off the bus to the center of campus. you chase after her, “i haven't been looked at by a guy in weeks, let alone be spoken to by one.” you imitate crying noises, doing your best to get on her nerves.

after much of your incessant moaning, she finally turns to face you, arms folded. “yn. your ex-boyfriend is the college satan, everybody who knows him, knows to stay ten feet away from you at all times. it’s not my fault your ex is terrifying.”

“he's not that scary..” you reply, stepping next to her as you both begin your way to class.

eunji laughs, screwing her eyebrows in a look of doubt, “he saw a guy taking pictures of the campus and broke his phone because you just so happened to be in the corner of the photo.”

“okay yeah.. maybe that was a little extreme.. but he's not my boyfriend anymore!” you reply, “it’s not like he’s going to act like that now that we aren’t dating.”

eunji shrugs her shoulders, her action shortly followed by the unwelcomed entrance of your other friend, mark, as he swings his arm around your neck.

being nosey, as per usual, mark mockingly repeats your last three words, before asking what's going on. “whatcha talking about?”

both you and eunji answer immediately, “nothing.”

“oh come on, you always keep me out of your little girly conversations. what’s it this time? hmm let me guess.. yn wants a mani-pedi but she doesn’t know if her fingers should match her toes or if it even matters because no one will see them both anyways? because personally i think you should go for i-”

“okay, first of all,” you cut him off, “how the hell do you know so much about nail maintenance?”

eunji replies for him, pointing in mark’s direction, “younger sister.” he nods, letting you continue.

“and second of all, i was actually asking eunji if she, uh..”

“if she what?” mark asks, curiously. you look to eunji for help and she shrugs, letting you dig yourself out of the hole that you had created for yourself.

“..if she knew any guys she could set me up on a blind date with..”

in that moment, you watch as marks eyes widen, a look of shock, amusement and most definitely excitement, pooling amongst him. you had never seen him so exhilarated before, as if he was seeing light for the first time, muttering a million ‘oh my god’s before fully facing himself to you to elaborate.

“this is perfect, yn!” he yells, and your head tilts in question. “i have this friend in my engineering class who's just broken up with his girlfriend.”

“mark, i don't think i want someone whos fresh out of a relati–”

“shhhhh.” he interrupts you, eunji rolling her eyes, displaying every thought that's running through your mind. “it’s perfect. trust me.”

you look between mark and eunji and then back to mark again and you know it is a stupid idea, but maybe mark is right, maybe that's exactly what you need.

because a stupid breakup can only make way for stupid decisions.

marks idea of perfect, was definitely not the same as yours.

here you are, sitting in a run-down, chinese restaurant, walls plastered with a tinge of blue light, soaked up by the steam which drowns out the room. the stone floor is cracked and unstable, laying the ground for chairs which can barely hold your weight. you are the only people in here, not by any means of surprise. you and your blind date.

you haven't spoken a word to each other yet, just soaking each other in.

you don’t know if it’s simply just the contrast of the environment around him, but he is ethereal. dressed in an all dark, velveteen black shirt, paired with black pants and an almost-wrinkled yet perfectly tailored leather jacket, his form sits still ahead of you. but it isn’t just his attire that stands out to you, no, his face is far from anything you had expected, his hair falling around his forehead lazily yet in perfect shape, the dark strands reaching down to the base of his neck, the choppy yet gorgeous style making it impossible for you to draw your eyes away from him. it takes him 3 seconds of clearing his throat for you to realize you’re staring.

but how could you not, this man is incredibly beautiful.

well, that was until he opened his mouth.

“i’m not here to date you.” he says, his dark eyes shedding each and every thought from your mind until you finally realised what he was saying.

you furrowed your brow, “what?”

“i’m not here to date you.” he repeated, as if you didn’t hear him the first time. “yn? is it?” he says, holding his can of seven-up in your direction, his comedic attempt at a chivalrous joke.

“i.. uh… what?” you say again.

he laughs at your confusion and you only increase your expression further. there’s absolutely no way this man is sane.

“listen, i have a proposal for you.”

“don’t you think it’s a little too soon for that?” you joke, “it’s only the first date.” laughing, you pick up your chopsticks, finally attempting to dig into the meal in front of you, soggy and cold. but it takes you a moment to realise that he isn’t laughing along with you.

“you’re johnny's ex, right?” he says, putting a piece of kung pao chicken into his mouth, chewing on it as he looks at you, his eyes intense yet fearfully playful, making you feel on edge, unsettled.

“yes..” you reply, “wh-”

“he cheated on you, right?”

the question knocks you off your tracks, making you almost choke on your food. these invasive questions, his amount of knowledge of you and johnny, it made you wonder what he really wanted from you.

“you want something, don’t you?” you ask, putting down your chopsticks and leaning your head on your hands, subsequently making your face fall closer to his.

he looks up from his dish, surprised yet delighted to see you so close, a smirk lining his lips.

“and what if i did?” he smiles, “would you say yes to a stranger.”

the implication in his voice, the sensuality of his eyes on yours, it has you questioning so many things: what does he want? who is he? why is he so interested in your past relationship?

but each of those questions are answered as he leans back in his chair, lifting his hips up to adjust his body to make room for his legs below the shitty, plastic table.

“i’m just like you.” he says, “my ex comes home, drowned in the scent of my least favorite cigarettes, mind fried by alcohol. and here i still am, wondering who decided to mess with what’s mine, who she decided it would be a wonderful idea to cheat on me with.” his eyes are still at yours, studying your every reaction. he’s right, that is exactly how you remember that night.

“so?” you ask.

“so.. you're going to tell me that you don’t care who he did it with? who he took below him that night whilst you stayed at home, not a clue in the world? it doesn’t intrigue you the tiniest bit?” he finally sits up from his chair, face to face with you as he tilts his head, eyes travelling to each corner of your face, as if he is reading your skin like it’s the words on the page of a book.

you gulp, “i do. every day.”

he smirks again before leaning back in his chair, “atta girl.”

whilst he waves over the waiter to take your food away, you begin to think to yourself about yuta’s words. he was right, you do care, and it kills you that you’ll never know.

unless..

“your proposal.” you ask.

“my proposal…” he tucks a strand of his hair behind his ear, growing slightly damp from the steam in the air. “my proposal is that we spy on each other's exes. you befriend nari whilst i befriend johnny, our sole purpose being to find out who they cheated on the other with. that way we both get what we want.”

as you’re listening to the words leave yuta’s mouth, you do everything in your power to process them. as much as your mind is telling you how horrible of an idea this is, to meddle in somebody else’s business, there’s a voice in your head reminding you of that night, the cold air that surrounded you, the orange juice carton that laid out, still and untouched on the side.

the blue scrunchie.

“i’ll do it.” you say, “i’ll befriend her.”

his smile appears once more.

but for all you knew, you just made a deal with the devil.

and there was absolutely no going back.

that next week, you spent each hour of each day, cautiously walking round campus, awaiting a call, a text, anything from yuta, so as to begin his plan. but there was nothing. you contemplated asking mark, but from his cheeky remarks about your date and endless questions about what you thought of yuta, you had somewhat of an idea that yuta had told him that the very opposite of what had actually happened that night, had occurred.

you finish packing up your books and your laptop from the cafe table you’re sitting at, stuffing your papers in your bag and walking toward the campus entrance, deciding to cut through the engineering block in order to get to your car.

it’s raining outside, a horrific portrayal of the peace you were formally feeling, interrupted, disturbed.

for as you're walking, you notice the familiar sheen of dark leather, shining from the shoulders of someone standing horrifically close to someone very familiar to you.

yuta is standing, engaged in what seems like a deep conversation, with your ex-boyfriend.

but yuta’s eyes are seemingly fixated on you.

as soon as you notice them, you slide behind the back of a bookshelf, luckily situated on the edge of the hall and easily blocking you from johnny’s sight. yuta, however, had watched you hide, second by passing second.

you peep your head around the corner of the shelf, watching as yuta whispers something to johnny who immediately walks off. not once did his eyes leave yours, not once did he look away.

once he had left enough time for johnny to be far enough in the distance not to notice anything, he raises his eyebrows, lifting his hand to outstretch one finger, signaling you to come over to him.

hesitantly, but definitely not out of your own will, you do as such, walking closer and closer to him, like he’s an impending doom that is laid out before you, tempting yet horrifically wrong.

“i’m keeping my side of the deal. why aren’t you?” he questions, arms crossing over his chest.

“what?”

“you need me to speak up?” his eyebrows rise in curiosity.

you definitely didn’t mishear him, you think to yourself. but you definitely didn't understand what the hell he was talking about.

“why aren’t i keeping my side of the deal. that’s what you asked me.”

“oh so she can hear me.”

your eyes narrow at his, the disgust in your face at his jestering evident as he laughs to himself.

you sigh, “i don’t know anything about this girl, yuta. a little bit of help would be nice.”

“am i not helping you enough?”

“yuta.” you’re starting to get annoyed. as the lack of people in the hall, luckily for you, is starting to decrease, you exhale, pulling yuta’s arm and dragging you both into an empty classroom.

holding out your hand, arm outstretched before you in his direction, you present to yuta your phone, screen illuminated on the ‘add contact’ screen.

yuta looks between the screen and you, a smirk lining his lips.

“you already have my number, darling, is all this spying making your memory go foggy?”

rolling your eyes, you explain to him that it’s nari’s number that you want.

yuta takes the phone, typing in her number before passing it back to you.

“you have a week.” yuta says, “and therefore so do i. understood?”

you nod before yuta nods back, turning away from you and walking out the door.

it’s when you look down that you notice that yuta hadn’t just added his ex-girlfriends number to your phone, no.

he had sent her a message.

your eyes close in annoyance, a sigh escaping you as you process the words on the screen below you.

‘i’m in class 7B in the engineering block. meet me right now. - yuta’s secret admirer ;)’

oh how you’re going to kick his ass.

sitting on one of the tables, you wait for yutas ex-girlfriend, nari, to enter the room. after about 5 minutes of waiting, you hear a delicate knock on the door.

“come in.” you yell, looking up from your phone and placing it on the table beside you.

as she walks in, her light hair swinging behind her, you roll your eyes at the stubborn yet surprised look on her face. her eyes widen briefly before returning back to normal.

“and you are?” she says.

“i’m not yuta’s secret admirer, so you can wipe that look off your face.” you say, bluntly.

taken aback, she folds her arms.

“what is it? and how’d you get my number? is this about-”

“the student union board, you’re an ambassador so your number’s up there. though i’m sure you’re aware of that considering how many calls you must get.” you laugh, the sarcasm lining your voice. you know you should probably be a little nicer to her if you want to find out who she cheated on yuta with, but you can’t help but think about how you felt the night johnny came home, and therefore, how yuta must have felt. after all, this girl is just like johnny.

“i’m not yuta’s secret admirer,” you repeat, “but i am his friend.”

“right.” she says, laughing.

“what’s funny?”

“that’s what they all say. they all think they know him. they all think that he’s this perfect image of a person, no faults, no flaws. jungwoo is his bestfriend and even yet, he doesn’t know him. it’s funny, that’s all.”

you squint your eyes in confusion. “that’s easy for you to say, it’s not like you’re a perfect saint either.”

she scoffs. “so he told you, huh?”

“could have probably figured it out by meeting you if im honest, but yes, he told me.”

she steps closer to you.

“who told you? yuta? or was it johnny?”

“why would johnny tell me that you cheated on yuta?”

“so it was yuta? you want to know why i cheated on yuta?”

your brows are etched with confusion.

she stands, looking you up and down but your form stays sat on the table, one leg crossed over the other.

“that’s the only reason you want me? nothing else?” she says.

you nod before she continues, but you sense an odd feeling of relief trace her features. “all yuta did was lie to me. day in, day out. ‘nari don’t worry ill be back before you’re asleep.’ ‘im just going to the store.’ ‘i have an assignment due.’ every single lie he told me, every single excuse he made. he hid it all from me. he’s a liar!”

you can see she’s getting physically angry even talking about it.

perfect. get angry. that only makes this so much easier.

“hid what from you?”

slowly, but ever so harshly, you watch as her features contort from anger, fading into a smile as it rests on her face.

“no…” she whispers. “no, you don’t get to know.”

“what?”

“if i had to suffer, if i had to discover this secret of his the way i did, then no, you’re not getting this any easier than i did. if he lied to me, then he can lie to his new bitch too.”

and with that, she turned on her heel, swiftly pulling the door to a slam behind her.

her words echoed in your mind. over and over.

but one word stuck out in particular to you.

one word:

secret.

yuta was hiding something.

from you, from his friends.

from the world.

masterlist — next

notes; hope you enjoyed so far. this is just the beginning 😟😟 so excited for this plot to progress u have nooo idea. lmk your theories 😋😋

taglist; @sleepyvic @thegracerammy @jenohyun @spicyryujin @do-you-remember-summer-127 @pandagirl753 @flamingi @nattan127 @peterm4rker @lesuneczka @kongjjen-recs

#nct #nct 127 #nct fanfic #nct college au #yuta nct #nakamoto yuta #nct yuta #yuta nakamoto

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adore-laur · 1 year ago

Text

PINK VELVET

— an italian getaway full of sunshine & surprises 💗

——

SALERNO, ITALY

Crystalline blue waters sparkling under the sunshine, ornate architecture standing high among the cliffsides, and mopeds burning rubber on the cobblestone streets—it's all pure, unadulterated bliss.

Sharing that bliss with your boyfriend enhances the experience. Both of you have been staying at a villa rental for a few days already, and the surrounding greenery and stucco buildings on the precipice rocks of the Tyrrhenian Sea bring a much-needed sense of privacy. It's a getaway for your third anniversary with Harry, and while it's a more extended vacation than usual—two weeks to be exact—the mellow atmosphere makes you feel like you could stay in Italy forever.

Harry said he plans on wooing you with the foreign language, having bought a book filled with romantic phrases at the airport's souvenir shop. You're dreading it because once he starts, he won't stop.

It's four in the afternoon, and you're getting ready to kayak off the Amalfi Coast. The heat will be sweltering, especially out on the open water, so you put on jean shorts over your swim bottoms, leaving just your bikini top on. Harry is standing in the doorway of the master bathroom and tying the strings of his swim trunks. He's wearing a white tank top that you know will be taken off eventually.

A cooler packed with snacks and drinks is by the front door. Once you reach downtown, the journey to the kayak launch takes about fifteen minutes, so you and Harry will drive in the vintage Cadillac he insisted on renting and park on the street before walking the rest of the way.

"Ready?" Harry asks, giving your ass two pats as he walks by.

"I guess," you say flatly.

He smirks and steals a scrunchie from your makeup bag to put around his wrist. "That's enough out of you."

You hoist the cooler over your shoulder, sling a beach towel over the other, and then stroll through the spacious villa rooms toward the door. When you open it, a blast of humid air immediately hits you. Harry brushes past you while jingling the car keys, a drawstring backpack on his back. You lock the door before heading toward the luxurious car you don't want to know the cost of.

Harry swings the passenger door open for you like a gentleman, but you decide to mess with him by ignoring his gesture. You open the driver's side door and smoothly crawl over the console until you're in the passenger seat. Harry slowly shakes his head, reaching forward to pluck your bikini strap with his fingers and lightly snap it against your skin. He throws his backpack under the seat before sliding behind the steering wheel.

The engine roars to life. Harry's hand places itself on your headrest, his body twisting around so he can carefully reverse down the circular driveway. You take his hand and set your interlocked fingers in your lap. He glances at you and smiles, his hair blowing beautifully in the wind and the sun casting a golden hue over his face.

When you arrive downtown, Harry parks along a random street. He removes his hand from yours and claps once. "Okay, here's the game plan. I reckon we should rent one kayak for both of us. It'll be cheaper and more fun, and we can work together like—"

"Absolutely not."

"Pardon?"

"I'm sorry, but being stuck in a kayak with you sounds like my personal hell. You'll somehow manage to tip us over or get us lost." Harry can live in a world of his own sometimes. You really want to avoid ending up stranded in the deep, expansive ocean.

"Baby," he says, looking at you with wounded eyes. "What if I drift away and we lose each other? I need you. I'll do all the work while you sit back and relax."

You can't possibly say no to him when he looks like a literal Greek god basking in the Italian sun, his lips irresistibly pink against his tanned skin.

"Fine," you surrender. "I'm not letting you do all the work, though, because we'll probably end up in a different country. Also, I'm sitting in the front seat. Deal?"

"Sì, amore mio," he says, passion dripping off his tongue. "And, um... I may have already paid for just one kayak when I booked the reservation yesterday. Well, singular ticket."

"You're unbelievable." Stepping out of the car, you stretch your limbs while Harry puts his backpack on and grabs the cooler. You hold onto his free hand and begin walking to the beach. Many people are out and about—vendors selling gourmet cuisine, kids riding bicycles through the alleyways, and tourists stopping at attractions.

At the waterfront, kayaks are stacked on racks, shimmering under the sun. Since Harry booked a reservation ahead of time, he walks toward the man who appears to be running the operation. You watch them shake hands and converse. Harry knows enough basic Italian to navigate through any language barrier yet to come.

Eventually, they both wander over to you, and the man caresses your hand and kisses your cheek. You smile and shyly mutter an Italian greeting. The man then excitedly leads you to the kayaks, taking a maroon two-seater from the bottom rack and dragging it toward the water. While following him, you notice only a few people are on the beach today. Only a couple of other occupied kayaks drift in the ocean, looking like mere silhouettes from where you stand.

"You know the rules, yes?" asks the man as he pushes the front of the kayak into the shallow water.

"Yes, I've done this before. I'll teach this guy," you say, pointing at Harry while draping your towel over the seat.

Harry smiles mindlessly, placing the cooler and backpack between the two seats. The man briefly leaves to grab life jackets and oars, leaving you and Harry to get into the kayak. You let him go first since he's sitting in the back. As you grip the side so it doesn't rock, he removes his tank top and hands it to you before steadily climbing in and bending his long legs to fit in the restrictive space.

You're next. Harry plants his foot in the sand to keep the kayak balanced and then offers his hand to grasp. Once you're situated, you sigh relievedly.

"This sucks," Harry mutters, nudging his knee against your back. "I can't even see your face."

"You could've solved that problem if you got us two kayaks."

"Yeah, but I wanted to be close to you," he says, sliding his shoes off. "Just look behind you every once in a while so I can get my fix."

You laugh, looking at the water that endlessly expands past the horizon. The man comes back with two life jackets, and you clip one to your body as sturdy oars are placed across your and Harry's laps. The man gives a thumbs up and slowly maneuvers the kayak away from the shoreline.

"Grazie!" Harry shouts, waving to him as the both of you drift further from land.

"Ciao! Stai al sicuro!" he shouts back.

The destination of the cliffs is a short one; their imminent height is visible far out to the left of the coastal village. You begin paddling, alternating sides to stay on a straight path, while Harry opens the cooler to take out a package of crackers and a bottle of water.

"Please tell me you know how to properly paddle," you say, taking a break to sip some water while the kayak naturally rides the ripples.

"Obviously. I'm kind of the backbone of this kayak, so I know what I'm doing," Harry replies with faux confidence, still not picking up the paddle.

"That's funny, considering I'm literally doing all the work right now. Get to paddling, or I won't turn around so you can get your fix."

"Calmati, bellissima," he murmurs, snatching a handful of crackers before finally helping.

A comfortable silence ensues, with only the sound of water splashing and the slight creak of the kayak that comes with each movement. Harry whistles a tune every so often. A content smile pulls at your lips.

However, it doesn't last long because if there's one thing Harry loves to do, it's acting like a child sometimes. He disrupts the long stretch of peace by pretending to tip over the kayak by rocking slightly back and forth in his seat, gasping like he's not doing it.

"Harry, I swear," you say with a nervous undertone, holding on to the edge of the kayak so you don't actually tip over into the vast ocean, infested with who knows what. "You're like a five-year-old!"

He listens immediately, apparently noticing your anxiousness. He settles back in his seat, stretching his legs next to your body and nudging his foot against your thigh as a silent apology.

"It wasn't me. I think there's an animal under us," he says, playing with your hair to distract you. It doesn't help, because you know that there are probably massive creatures swimming below you. He knows one of your biggest fears is drowning, so he should feel like a jerk now after his little charade.

"Are you going to sit there and braid my hair, or can you help me get to our destination before it gets dark?"

"Sorry," he murmurs, grabbing his paddle and helping you turn left toward the rock formations. They aren't too far away now.

"We're almost there," you encourage softly, dialing back your slight attitude. Harry is quiet, so you turn around to see him pouting softly. "Why are you sulking?"

"Am I being annoying? You sound annoyed with me," he says, avoiding eye contact and setting his paddle down.

"No, honey. I just want to get there as quickly as we can and swim for a bit. We have wine tasting after this, so we can't dilly-dally."

"Dilly-dally," he repeats, laughing at your chosen phrase. "Okay, I'll behave. Kiss?"

You capture his lips with yours, tasting the tomato and basil crackers he's been munching on. He kisses you back and reaches out his hand to push some hair behind your ear. Pulling away, you see the cliffs only about two hundred feet away. You both begin paddling again in serene silence.

At the side of the cliff, you stop the kayak by a large, flat rock that peeks out of the water and appears safe to stand on. You hold onto it; the waves are more active in this area, and you tie some rope around the post provided. You assume it's there for other kayakers and cliff divers to take advantage of.

Once you climb onto the rock, you offer your hand to assist Harry and pull him up. "We made it!" you exclaim, lifting your arms. Harry high-fives both of your hands and bends down to kiss you.

You unclip your life jacket, then do the same for Harry. Free from obstruction, your arms naturally loop around his waist for a hug. He embraces you, his large hand cradling the back of your head. You stay like that for a while, watching waves crash against the rocks as the sun starts painting the sky with blue and orange streaks.

"Wanna do something stupid?" you say into his chest before lifting your chin to look at him mischievously. He has more freckles due to the hours spent sunbathing.

Harry peers at you with furrowed brows. "What?"

"Let's jump off that rock," you say, pointing your finger behind him.

He turns you both around, still trapping you in his arms. A tall, cliff-like rock surrounded by several smaller rocks makes it easy to reach the top. You don't wait for Harry's answer and pull your shorts down, revealing your cherry-red bikini bottoms. Venturing your way up, you glance back at Harry. He grins and immediately follows suit, walking behind you with outreached arms in case you slip.

At the top, you both stare at each other with knowing smiles. This is exactly where you're supposed to be.

Out of nowhere, Harry experiences a burst of spontaneity and quickly lunges forward, cannonballing off the cliff and into the water. He emerges after a few seconds, shaking his hair and letting out a loud holler, probably caused by adrenaline or the cold water.

You shuffle toward the edge and get ready to jump. Harry's gaze never wavers as you daintily leap off, plugging your nose and closing your eyes on the long way down. When you hit the water, a powerful sensation rushes through your body. You glide to the surface and find Harry swimming toward you, his drenched hair plastered to his skin.

The water is at an uncomfortable temperature, so you move briskly to climb back up on the rock the kayak is tied to. Shortly after, Harry lifts himself up, droplets dripping from his body. You dry off with the towel, then hand it to him. Once he finishes, you take your phone out of the backpack and tell him to pose. He presents both middle fingers, sticking his tongue out with a smile. The breathtaking evening view in the background makes the picture ten times more perfect.

"Let's head back," you say after soaking in the skyline. "The wine tasting is at six, and it's a little after five right now."

Harry nods, and you both put your life jackets back on before situating yourselves in the kayak. You untie the knotted rope, push off the rock, and then head toward the coastline. He helps paddle the whole way there, kissing the back of your neck every so often.

Bliss, bliss, bliss.

——

After returning the kayak and packing all the stuff in the car's trunk, Harry says he's going to find a nearby bathroom so he can change into his outfit for the wine tasting. He hands you one of his sweaters out of the bag—a gray crewneck. It's your favorite and still smells like him, no matter how often you've worn it.

You have no idea what outfit he brought; he manages to take it out and quickly runs into a shop while you're distracted by the lively village. Waiting with anticipation in the car, you cozy up, growing tired from the strenuous paddling and calming atmosphere around you.

Five minutes pass before Harry appears, and you immediately laugh at the sight of him. Not because he looks silly, but because his outfit is too fancy for less than an hour of wine tasting in some restaurant's cellar.

"Harry," you say breathily, taking in his outfit. "I'm wearing a sweater, and you're wearing a suit. Where did you even get that?"

It's a bubblegum pink suit left open over a plain white button-up. White dress shoes are on his feet, and he must've fixed his hair in the bathroom mirror.

"Eh?" He spins around. "You like it?"

"You look very handsome, but now I feel severely underdressed. Why didn't you tell me to pack a dress?" You obviously don't have the time to go back to the villa and change, but you're curious as to why Harry didn't say anything about the apparent dress code for tonight.

"I wanted to surprise you, darling. Plus, I know you would be worried about spilling wine on something nice. It's a private tasting, so no one will see you but me and the chef I mentioned."

Harry had booked a wine tasting with a man he'd met when he last visited Italy, the friendly owner of a family-owned restaurant in the village. He has always been able to leave unforgettable impressions on everyone he meets, so the man gladly moved some things around so that he could have you two come to the cellar for an intimate experience.

You sigh, realizing there's no point in arguing. They won't care, so why should you? You have no doubt that Harry will make you feel comfortable once you get there.

"You're right. Hopefully, he doesn't care that I look like I just crawled out of a lake."

"Basta. Sembri un sogno," Harry says, grabbing your hand and tugging you out of the car.

You assume he said something incredibly charming. Your face naturally warms as you distract yourself by picking nonexistent lint off your sleeve before walking the bustling street toward a restaurant called Dahlia. The man Harry knows is waiting by the arched front door with a jovial smile.

"Ciao, Signore Styles!" he greets enthusiastically. "Ah, la tua ragazza. Benvenuto!"

Harry shakes his hand. "Che bello rivederti. Questa è la mia ragazza, sì. Cominciamo, va bene?"

"Yes, yes. Seguitemi, cari."

The two of you follow him through the small, packed restaurant and descend a narrow flight of stairs that leads to a wine cellar. Harry is behind you, his hands on your shoulders to ensure you don't take a tumble. His dress shoes click against the polished wood with each step.

At the bottom, you turn down a dim hallway. Endless wine bottles are meticulously stacked on shelves against the walls. There's a table and chairs, and two wine glasses and napkins are already set neatly on the surface. There's even a plate of bread.

You sit, and Harry does the same. He immediately begins shaking the napkin out and placing it in his lap, like he's done this a million times before. You cross your legs and angle your body toward him, admiring his features in the low, yellowish lighting from the antique wall sconces. He grins handsomely.

The man brings over two bottles of expensive-looking wine, and you think of your preconceived notion of what wine tasting would be like—rolling hills and vineyards in the countryside, getting wine drunk with middle-aged moms wearing patterned blouses, gossiping about their cheating husbands.

Where you are right now is undeniably better. Who wouldn't want to be in a cramped room with their boyfriend, who's wearing a pink suit and looking at you like you're the only thing that exists?

The man fills the wine glasses with an adequate amount of blood-red liquid, then stands back to observe your reactions. Harry spins it around in his glass and sniffs it, acting like he's all fancy. You want to laugh at him, but keep it inside so you don't seem disrespectful. Instead, you bring your glass up to your mouth and take a small sip, tasting wild berries and a hint of an unknown aromatic herb. Harry sips his next, eyes locked on yours the entire time. He smacks his lips after swallowing and exhales, obviously pleased. You roll your eyes at him secretively. He's acting like he owns the place, and it's shameful that you find it attractive.

You rip off a piece of bread from the loaf in front of you and eat it, the buttery dough instantly melting on your tongue. Harry smiles at you, resting his hand on your chair as you rip some more off and offer it to him. He puts it in his mouth and mouths a silent swear, then picks up the entire loaf of bread and inspects it like he's Gordon Ramsey.

"I need the recipe for that," you whisper humorously.

Harry, of course, takes it literally. He beckons the man to come closer and places a friendly hand on his shoulder. "La mia ragazza adora cucinare il pane. Potrei avere questa ricetta per favore? Questo è sorprendente."

"Ovviamente! Tornerò," says the man while hurriedly going upstairs.

You turn to Harry with confusion, needing help understanding the exchange.

"He's getting the recipe for it," he explains. "You can make it before we go home."

"Harry," you say with a sigh. "Stop being so nice. I could've just found an online recipe. What if it's a family recipe that's super important to him?"

"Stop worrying, my love. He doesn't mind."

Before you can respond, the man returns with a tattered recipe book. He opens it to a bookmarked page and sets it in front of you. "Fai una photo, caro. Fammi sapere com'è quando lo fai," he says, pointing at the bread drawing—not a picture—on the weathered page. Was this recipe from medieval times? Goodness gracious.

You can't understand him, so Harry takes your phone out of your pocket and snaps a picture of the handwritten words on the paper. You can't believe this man you just met is so willing to give you a recipe from his own restaurant.

"Grazie," you say shyly. Harry smiles at your sudden bashfulness, scooting closer to you and kissing your head.

The wine tasting continues for the next hour. Throughout the various sips of eclectic flavors, Harry amps up his lovable antics—slowly and dramatically reeling off flavors he gets from the wine and spinning the liquid in the glass so quickly that it spills onto the napkin in his lap.

Anything to see you smile.

After what feels like gallons of wine, you and Harry thank the man for his graciousness and ask if he could drive the car back to the villa since driving back yourselves while tipsy would be idiotic. Harry offers to pay a hefty amount for the favor, and the man happily obliges, saying he will drive it back when he finishes closing the restaurant. Harry hands him the keys before you leave, shaking hands and kissing cheeks with the other chefs on the way out.

You're both wine-drunk—arguably the best kind of drunk—and stumbling on clumsy feet with cheeks that won't stop smiling. It's dark out now, and the streetlights guide you to the Corvette. Harry calls for a taxi, speaking in full Italian, which makes you weak in the knees.

Harry removes his suit jacket after hanging up the phone, leaving the white button-up in all its glory, his tattoos and chest hair peeking out from the few buttons undone. You take your belongings out of the trunk, set them on the ground, and then stand beside Harry. You kiss his chest, nuzzling your cheek against it and closing your eyes. He rubs his hand along your back and begins swaying with you under the streetlight.

You look up at him with glassy eyes and flushed cheeks, admiring his matching appearance. "How do you say 'pretty' in Italian?" you ask, getting lost in his gaze.

Harry pouts, thinking. "Patatina," he replies after a few seconds.

"You're patatina," you say lovingly.

He snorts at your cluelessness, smearing a kiss on your forehead.

"What?" you ask, looking at him with confusion. "Is that not what it means? That's not nice, Harry. What did you just make me say?" You gasp. "Is it something dirty?"

He's still giggling, with crinkled eyes and deep dimples carving his face. You poke his ribs to get him to answer. "Sorry," he says, breathing out a final laugh. "No, it's not dirty. Patatina is a term of endearment I read about in the book I bought. It means little potato."

You stare at him with a deadpan expression, thoughts about why you decided to date this boy running through your head. "Little potato... it's actually kind of cute," you admit, shuffling closer to Harry's warm body. "If you're a patatina, what am I?"

"Cipollino," he murmurs, cradling your face. It translates to 'little onion.' The book said it pairs well with patatina, and we're, like, a pair."

Your nose scrunches. "But an onion, out of everything? That's probably the least romantic vegetable. I want to be rhubarb or something, you know? They taste sweet, and I think... I think I'm pretty sweet. Right, Harry?" The wine is making its way to your dizzy head.

"Correct," he says. "And I'm patatina, not Harry."

"Shut up."

"Kiss me, then. Shut me right up."

You don't question him, lurching forward to give him a searing kiss, fingers hooking in his belt loops. He returns the kiss with the same, if not more, passion. You can taste the residue of wine on his cherry-colored lips, opening his mouth with your tongue to suck on his.

You suddenly hear tires rolling up and turn to see headlights shining on your figures. Great timing, taxi. You part from Harry's swollen lips, short of breath, and hastily pick up your stuff. You hope no one witnessed anything too wild.

Harry hands the driver a wad of cash before he climbs in the backseat. You follow suit. The vehicle drives off into the night, and your head rests on your lover's shoulder the whole way back.

——

The villa looms exquisitely under the starlit sky. You're relatively sure you fell asleep five minutes into the drive. Harry helps your sleepy body out of the car after grabbing all your belongings, then walks you up the driveway. He sets you on the outdoor sofa surrounding the fire pit before disappearing through the sliding door. The whispering breeze makes you shiver and burrow deeper into his sweater, which still clings to your figure.

Harry returns with two wine glasses and a bottle of... cranberry juice?

"If I have any more wine, I'll puke. So, cranberry juice?" he says, his voice rising to a higher octave.

"Sitting by the fire and drinking cranberry juice out of a wine glass with you," you say dreamily while scooting over to make room for him. "I can't think of anything better."

You soak up his company. When he went inside, he changed into grey sweatpants and a matching hoodie, and he looked like such a boyfriend. It's ridiculous. He's always so inviting and lovely. You find yourself wanting to touch him and absorb the warmth he exudes.

Sleep overtakes you again while you're tucked into his side. The next thing you wake up to are silk sheets on the king-size bed. You instinctively curl up to Harry's body beside you. He must have opened the vast bay window that provides an impossible sea view because a beautiful breeze flows over your skin. It has you sinking further into the mattress.

"Want me to get your pajamas?" Harry asks quietly.

You sleepily shake your head, perfectly fine with sleeping in his sweater. However, you do slide off your shorts and bikini bottoms.

You're dozing again when Harry clears his throat. You open your eyes, feeling his heart rate speed up under your cheek.

"I have something special planned for our anniversary tomorrow. It's in the evening, so we have time to do other things. Just letting you know."

"That makes me nervous, but I trust you."

"Tomorrow will be even better than today. I promise."

"Can't wait." You yawn. "Goodnight. Love you."

"I love you more than anything," he says, lightly scratching your back.

You grumble an incoherent response, drifting off to your dreams, which always pale compared to life with the man next to you.

——

The following morning's ambiance consists of Harry's snoring and glorious sunshine pouring through the wind-blown curtains. You must've slept like a rock because the bedside clock reads nine-thirty. You decide to abandon the soft sheets and let Harry get more sleep.

You wrap yourself in your satin robe and pad down the hallway toward the kitchen. One glance at the oven, and you remember the bread recipe from last night. It'd be a pleasant anniversary surprise for Harry, considering his surprise for you is shrouded in mystery. Plus, making bread is oddly therapeutic—the kneading, the delicious smell, the endless possibility of flavors. Luckily, all the simple ingredients are in the pantry, so you can start making the dough.

By the time it's in the oven, Harry is still dead to the world, and the time is nearing eleven. Some days, he'll wake up at the crack of dawn to go on a stupid run, or he'll sleep until noon on the weekends after a long week of work. There's really no in-between.

While the bread bakes, you clean up the mess on the counters before sitting at the kitchen table to aimlessly scroll through your phone. Another twenty minutes pass before you hear feet shuffling against the hardwood floor. You glance up to find a puffy-eyed Harry rubbing his face. He's wearing black swim trunks, and that's about it, except for the sunglasses on top of his head.

He bends down and kisses your cheek. "Buongiorno, mio piccolo cuoco," he says, his voice as raspy as the slight mustache above his lip that seems to have grown overnight.

"More like good afternoon." You shut your phone off and set it aside. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mm, the best I have in ages," he answers, scratching his stomach. He then smiles lazily, his eyes looking more awake. "Happy anniversary."

"Three whole years. I don't know how I've gone putting up with you this long."

"Hey. I can go back to bed if you want," he says, pointing his thumb toward the bedroom.

"No, stay," you plead softly. "By the way, I'm making that bread recipe. It's my present to you for being an average boyfriend."

"Being sassy this morning, are we?"

"You love it."

"Got that right," Harry mutters, nosily peering into the oven. He sniffs the bread dramatically and whistles impressively before shutting the oven door. The mouthwatering aroma reminds you of wandering the Italian streets yesterday.

"Going for a swim?"

"Yeah. Join me?"

"I will once the bread is done." You stand and send him on his way with a peck on his lips. "Go ahead. I'll make you a fruit platter."

"Dragonfruit, please?" he requests, opening the sliding door that leads to the infinity pool.

"Got it. Don't forget to put sunscreen on!"

He gives you a thumbs up, leaving the door open to welcome the pleasant breeze. You grab hot pads and take the finished bread out, setting it on the cooling rack before turning the oven off. While it cools, you change into a swimsuit, tie a chiffon wrap skirt around your hips, and then arrange a platter.

You gather the cubed fruit you've both been eating the past couple of days—cantaloupe, watermelon, strawberries, and, per Harry's request, dragonfruit. He wanted to buy some after his wonderful mother grew it in her garden. Then, you precisely arrange the fruit in a circle on a floating breakfast tray that can go in the pool, keeping the middle open for slices of buttered bread. You sincerely hope it tastes close enough to what you ate yesterday.

Lastly, you fill glasses with orange juice before carefully heading outside to keep Harry company. You see him floating on his back, arms open, and eyes closed. You set the platter down on a table and tiptoe to the edge of the pool.

To hell with it. You're going to scare him to get him back after trying to tip the kayak yesterday. It's only fair, right?

He's oblivious to everything around him, a peaceful glow on his face. You almost feel bad for deciding to disturb it—especially on your anniversary—but what good is a relationship without a bit of havoc?

You mull over what you could possibly do to frighten him. Maybe throw a cantaloupe piece at him or pretend the car came back destroyed. These are two vastly different ends of the mischief spectrum, and ultimately, the latter is the obvious choice—and the most fun.

"Harry?" you say quietly, changing your expression to make it seem like you're distraught.

"Yeah?" he replies, keeping his eyes closed.

"Um, your friend from yesterday just dropped the car off. Harry, it's—"

His eyes snap open, picking up on your wavering and anxious tone. He stops floating and swims over to where you're standing by the edge.

"What's wrong? Talk to me. Did something happen? Are you okay?" he asks worriedly, his eyes darting between your face and body to check for any signs.

"The car," you whisper, mustering up fake tears. Harry instinctively holds your ankle, his thumb rubbing soothing circles. "It's destroyed. It looks like it got into an accident. What are we going to do?"

"Seriously? What the hell? How... I don't..." He heaves himself out of the pool and begins walking around the villa toward the driveway. He looks like he's about to punch something, so you suppress your laughter and decide to end the game.

You grab his wrist, spinning him around. He stares at you with panic, and now you feel bad. "I'm kidding, baby. I'm just messing with you. The car is fine. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you repeat, clasping his cheeks and laughing.

His jaw drops. "You're so mean."

"I'm just getting you back for yesterday. Them's the rules."

"Yeah, but you've been quite sassy all morning, hmm? First, you called me an average boyfriend. Then you didn't even kiss me good morning. That hurts my heart."

"You were completely passed out. How would you have known if I kissed you good morning or not?"

"I can always tell. They bring me back to life."

"Shut up," you scoff, grabbing the platter. "Here's some fruit and homemade bread as a peace offering. Take it or leave it."

"Feed me in the pool, and I'll consider your offer."

"Fine. I'm not getting in, though. I want to sunbathe for a bit.

Harry dramatically rolls his eyes and dives back in. When he emerges, he swims to the edge. You sit down with the platter and let it float next to him before putting your feet in the tepid water. You pick up a slice of bread and hold it to Harry's awaiting mouth. He places your legs over his shoulders, his arms hooking around your upper thighs.

Someone's needy today.

He tosses the bread into his mouth, his eyes rolling back like they did in the wine cellar yesterday. He borderline moans at the taste, his jaw flexing with each chew. After he swallows, he leaves grateful kisses on your thighs. "Deliziosa," he murmurs, paired with more nipping and kissing. You know he's not talking about the bread. The 'a' he added to the end of the word makes it feminine. He's not slick.

Before you both get carried away—wanting to save your pent-up tension for later—you feed him a plethora of fruit before deciding to make both of you an actual meal. You're starving, so you'll catch some sun later.

Harry whines at the loss of contact. You use your foot to push his chest until he's floating on his back again. He throws you a peace sign before you head back inside.

As you whip up a quick breakfast, you watch your boyfriend from the door, appreciating his sunkissed body and tattoos. You smile and think about how time has flown by with him in the most remarkable way.

Three years, and hopefully a lifetime more.

——

You're nervous.

You don't have the faintest idea what Harry's surprise is. All he's said is to dress nicely and not eat anything yet. Maybe he's taking you out to dinner? Or perhaps you'll walk downtown together and stop at vendors. You're stumped. He's annoyingly good at keeping secrets.

It's nearing seven as you add the finishing touches to your makeup. Harry is in the bathroom spraying cologne on his neck, looking casually handsome in a flowing, off-white button-up. He's paired it with matching cotton shorts and sneakers that need washing. You keep telling him to clean them, but he ignores your pleading and claims the dirt gives them character.

A short cherry-colored dress with puffed sleeves adorns your body. Red lipstick to match. Hair loose. The necklace Harry bought you for your last anniversary is glimmering against your neck.

Harry comes behind you in the vanity mirror as you apply a final coat of mascara and starts soothingly scratching your upper back. He can probably sense you're feeling nervous, knowing you don't particularly like surprises. However, you think he looks undeniably handsome, with his new tan and stubble pulling you into his coziness. Somehow, just looking at him eases your nerves.

"Gorgeous," he whispers.

You smooth any remaining wrinkles out of your dress. "Thank you. I'm almost done."

"Take your time," he replies, squeezing your shoulders. "I'll start the car."

You make sure your makeup is smudge-free and then shut the bedroom light off on your way to the front door. Harry is waiting by the passenger side of the Corvette with a distracted look on his face. When he finally sees you coming, he opens the door for you. This time, you accept his gentlemanlike gesture.

He drives to an unknown destination, taking the backroads. You can't even guess where you're headed since everything outside the villa is unfamiliar.

Ten minutes later, Harry slows down and turns right toward what appears to be a small seaside forest. He drives along the path leading through the trees until a hidden beach area eventually reveals itself. He parks the car while you're speechless at the sight before you. The only things on the sand are a round table with two chairs surrounded by tiki torches.

No one else is here. If Harry tells you he rented the entire beach, you'll kill him.

"I rented this portion of the beach for the night."

Of course.

"You're ridiculous," you say, taking in your surroundings. "Thank you, Harry. This is a wonderful surprise."

He ducks his head bashfully. "C'mon, let's eat."

You follow him to the table and sit on the wicker chair across from him. In front of you is a plate of stuffed ravioli with a side of roasted asparagus, cooked just how you like them. Harry has vegan fettuccine Alfredo with peas—a lot of peas. A gagworthy amount.

"I'm floored right now," you say, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. "I can't believe you did all this without me knowing."

"I'm a sneaky guy. There were lots of secret phone calls while you were in the shower or swimming in the pool.

You take your sandals off and enjoy the cool sand between your toes. "Yeah, I bet. I'm not even going to ask how much it costs to rent this part of the beach."

"It's not important," he says. "Let's eat, shall we? And talk me through this little outfit you have on. Why on earth haven't I seen you wear it yet?"

Then, both of you eat, talk, and watch the waves glide on the shore. The sun is dipping past the horizon, turning the sky a violet shade with splashes of fading orange. You talk Harry's ear off about random stuff in your life and humorous anecdotes since the trip started. His body naturally leans toward you to give you his undivided attention. He listens the entire time, eyes on you with his chin in the palm of his hand, except for when he pops some spearmint gum into his mouth after finishing his truckload of peas.

After you finish rambling, you wait for him to start talking your ear off. He can usually drone on and on about anything for hours, but right now, he's just sitting and staring at the sunset.

"You're quiet," you point out, gently poking his arm with your fork.

"Just thinking."

"About what?"

He sighs longingly before saying, "I know we still have more than enough time here, but I kind of don't want to leave. I love it here so much. This is the happiest I've ever been."

Your heart melts. "I feel the same way. I could stay here forever and never get bored of it. Especially with you by my side."

Harry finally looks at you, his eyes holding something unreadable yet powerful. He stands abruptly and reaches his hand out. "Let's walk for a bit," he says with a tone that kicks your anxiety into high gear.

You grasp his hand, and he leads you along the shoreline, your feet getting wet whenever the tide washes up. It's quiet except for the pesky seagulls, crashing waves, and salty breeze. Where you are right now makes you want to bottle up the memory so you can keep the feeling forever, replay this trip, and relive the most joyous moments of your life.

Harry eventually stops, facing you with both hands holding yours tightly. He looks... pale. Are his hands shaking, or are you imagining things? Is he about to pass out from sunstroke? Did he eat too many peas?

He clears his throat and visibly gulps, squinting at the sky and exhaling quickly. His feet shuffle nervously. An incomprehensible thought zings to the front of your brain.

Is he about to do what you think he's about to do?

"I might cry and possibly throw up, so please bear with me," he says, his voice shaky.

You just stare at him, unable to say anything. Then he begins lowering himself on one knee, and you just about go down with him.

He removes his hands from yours and takes something out of his pocket. It's a velvet ring box, pink and delicate.

You gasp as Harry opens his mouth, his watery eyes trained on nothing but you. "I love you with all my heart. I'm weak for the things you do, and it consumes me to the point where I feel like I might burst from loving you so much. Every word you speak or smile you give me makes me fall for you deeper and deeper. And you love me back. You love me better than anyone. And I realized when we first met that you're someone I not only want in this life but also need. You're the only one for me, and I'll take care of you, support you, and love you so thoroughly until you get sick of me. I'm rambling now, so I'll shut up and cut to the chase. I want to be your husband. Will you marry me? Please? Il mio cuore è solo tuo. If you want it, it's yours."

Harry finishes his speech by opening the ring box to reveal a silver oval-cut ring that takes your breath away. A tear trails down your cheek as your lips wobble. You nod your head what feels like a thousand times. "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you. Holy shit."

He laughs beautifully, his eyes squinting so much that the captured tears in his waterline spill over. He stands and shakily puts the ring on the correct finger. It fits perfectly.

You cup his cheeks and bring his face toward yours. "I love you," you say while kissing his flushed and tear-stained cheeks. "You're so sneaky. I wasn't expecting this until you looked like you were going to pass out in front of me."

"Be glad I didn't throw up on your dress."

"That's true." Suddenly, everything hits you. Harry, we're going to get married."

He smiles with unbridled happiness, nodding before picking you up and running into the sea. The splashes he makes strike you with cold splatters, and you squeal, but it quickly turns into uncontrollable laughter when Harry spins you around and dips you toward the water. You squirm with resistance and manage to escape his arms. He stumbles from the waves but remains upright, then stares at you intensely for three seconds before kissing your lips like they're his life source.

"My fiancée," he says, kissing down your face to your neck. "I adore you."

"Can we"—you whimper breathily—"go back to the villa and celebrate? Some wine, dessert, and... maybe some other things."

He can't propose to you while looking this good and expect you not to jump his bones.

"Sì, mi amore."

——

At the villa, palpable tension lingers in the air and throughout your body. The adrenaline from what just happened is still coursing through your blood as Harry makes a beeline straight to the master bedroom. It's only right to follow with shallow breaths and a hammering heartbeat.

Approaching the bedroom, you see Harry already taking off his shirt. You walk over and lie on the bed, waiting for him to initiate the celebration. You're usually the one who likes to be in control, but being the sexually dominant type calls for preparation and the right kind of mood. Now, at this moment, all you want is to writhe in pleasure on silk sheets and feel Harry's touch everywhere.

You're already impatiently aroused because of Harry's teasing on the drive back. His fingers were stroking the inside of your thigh, traveling up, up, up until they reached dangerous territory. He'd start to pull away after realizing how wet you already were, but you would trap his hand with your thighs, making him groan. Two could play at that game.

Now, Harry saunters over to you in nothing but his cotton shorts. His tanned skin looks tempting in the muted lamplight. The rest of the lights are off, and the moon is brightly shining in the indigo sky.

"Ready for me?" he asks lowly, hungrily glancing over your body.

You nod and bend your knees. Harry lies on his stomach and gets between your legs, his hands gripping your upper thighs with fervor. He must've put his rings on when you weren't looking. He knows you love the feeling of them. You're not picky as to where.

"Gonna let me take care of you?"

"Please. Please, Harry."

"Patience, my love. Let me see you."

"I'm right here. Do something. Please, I need you."

He shushes you with a soft timbre, scooting closer to where you need him the most. He lifts your dress, bunches the material up by your stomach, and then readjusts his grip on your thighs. His lips trail closer to your lace underwear, and he looks at you under his eyelashes. His eyes ground you, make you nervous, and leave you spellbound. Maintaining eye contact with him is hard when you know you'll come undone way too quickly from just his intense gaze. You're not giving him the benefit of that. Not tonight, at least.

Instead, you stare at the vaulted ceiling and gasp when his lips graze over your underwear. Soft, purposeful movements have you closing your thighs around your head as a reflex. Open-mouthed kisses over your wet lace drive you crazy. You're clenching and internally soliciting for him to just do something.

"Stop teasing," you say firmly, still not looking at him.

"Don't be bossy."

"I'm not being bossy. You're my fiancé, so you're supposed to be nice to me."

He moves your underwear to the side. "Yeah? Does my fiancée want me to be nice to her? I'm always nice, baby. I'm always good for you; you know that."

"You are. It's true. The nicest man I've ever known. No one has even come close." You squirm with impatience. "Just take them off."

Harry doesn't waste any time, propping himself up to slide the material down your legs. You lift your ankles above his head to fling them off, then plant your feet back on the mattress and spread them wide open so he can resume.

His mouth immediately latches onto your clit, sucking it, and his nose fits perfectly above it. You moan loudly, your back arching and your hands grasping his neck. You have to look at him now and watch him take care of you like only he knows how. When you do, it's like a sight straight from heaven. His brows are drawn in, his eyes shut, and his pink lips bring you pleasure in the most intimate way.

Harry continues sucking before soothing his tongue along your entrance. Without warning, he removes his mouth and replaces it with his fingers. He dives two of them in, curling them in a way that makes you inhale sharply. His mouth occupies itself with kissing the inside of your thighs, biting little marks so you can remember this experience.

The feeling of both his fingers and mouth is overwhelming, and your hand can't help but involuntarily pull his hair.

"God," he mumbles against your thigh. "Do that again, baby."

You pull harder, and a deep, raspy moan leaves his mouth. He begins kissing across your body while his fingers continue to bring you to your peak. He adds a third as he nips your waist, his head exploring under your bunched-up dress. He props one arm up to hover himself over you. You look at him with lustful eyes, your mouth parted, and soft moans escape when he hits a particular spot. He smears a messy kiss on your lips, and you try your best to return it as his fingers thrust in and out of you.

An orgasm quickly forms in your lower stomach. Harry massages your clit with the pad of his thumb to bring you there, knowing your body and when you're about to let go like the back of his hand. He grinds against the bed to soothe his own arousal. He's been hard since your act in the car, having felt your thighs clench around his hands, his fingers so close to his favorite spot. He apparently couldn't help himself.

When Harry hits that final spot that has you crying out, you arch your back and let go. Your eyes squeeze shut as you moan from the delightful pressure freely flowing out of your body.

Harry places his mouth back on yours as you finish, removing his fingers from inside you and gripping your hips, leaving a coat of your arousal on the love bites left there. Your body is strong enough to lift yourself on your elbows and leave marks on Harry's neck. He grunts when you bite the sensitive skin below his earlobe and grinds against the bed once more, stilling and then shuddering through a fierce release.

Oh. He came from that one touch.

He falls flat on the bed, cupping himself and breathing heavily. There's a damp spot on his shorts. It's a filthy sight.

"That was embarrassing. I'm sorry," Harry murmurs, his cheek pressed against the pillow. "I thought I'd be able to last."

You brush some sweaty hair off his forehead. "It's fine. I don't have to do any work now."

"Hilarious," he says monotonously. He suddenly jumps up from the bed and shuffles to the bathroom, confusing you. You hear him wash his hands and then turn on the jacuzzi. He returns with a clean pair of boxers and smoothly lifts you from the bed. Your dress covers your exposed state, yet it doesn't hide the slick feeling between your legs. The warm water will feel amazing.

Harry gently sets you on the sink counter as the tub fills up. He grabs a washcloth and dips it under the faucet before cleaning you. It's comfortably silent, with only rushing water in the background.

When the jacuzzi is adequately filled, Harry helps you stand and remove your dress. Once naked, you quickly go to the bathroom while Harry removes his boxers. He then leads you to the jacuzzi to sit down. When he climbs in, you cling onto him for a cuddle as sleepiness washes over you. Harry presses a button to turn the jets on. Everything feels so lovely.

"I can't believe you said yes," he says.

"You knew I would. How could I possibly say no to you after a speech like that?"

"Dunno. We're, like, together forever now." He rubs the ring on your finger. "Well, not yet. But when we actually get married, it's a lifetime with each other. It's wild to think about, but I want nothing more."

"I get what you mean," you say, scrubbing the red lipstick stains on his neck with the pads of your fingers. "I want this with you too."

When you softly rub around his lips, he kisses your finger and looks at you with disbelief. You pluck his swollen bottom lip with your thumb, then lean in to plant a truthful kiss there.

Everything with him is so simple. Every touch is meaningful. Every unspoken word holds the weight of a million words. Every laugh leaves you teary-eyed with a heart full of love.

He is pure love. What he gives so naturally is exactly what he is.

Once your skin turns wrinkly and the water becomes lukewarm, you and Harry get out and dry yourselves off. He retreats to the bedroom to grab pajamas. When he returns, you put on an oversized shirt and walk out of the bathroom after draining the tub, running toward the bed and bellyflopping on it like a kid. Harry shuts the bedroom light off and flops beside you, letting out a long and blissful sigh.

"I'm hungry," he says.

You snort. "You ate a million peas not even an hour ago. How are you still hungry?"

"Sex makes me hungry. And stop making fun of my love of peas. Hey, can you get the cantaloupe? I'm knackered."

His rapid change of topics makes you laugh. "Anything for you, pea boy."

You hear him faintly whine at your new nickname for him as you stroll into the kitchen. You open the refrigerator to grab a bowl of cantaloupe cubes and then return. Harry's eyes are fluttering shut, and his limbs are spread out on the mattress. You climb over him, sitting against the headboard, as he blindly reaches his hand for some fruit. He chews against the pillow, his cheeks squishing adorably.

"Thanks," he mumbles with his mouth full.

"Mm-hmm. I'm going to sleep. I'll put the bowl on the nightstand for you."

Once you've moved the cantaloupe, you scoot down and lie on your back. Harry keeps reaching for the bowl without moving his head, sometimes missing entirely and waving his hand around to find it. You eventually close your eyes, a smile making its way to your face when you realize you'll wake up tomorrow as an engaged woman next to your future husband.

Harry finishes all the fruit in the bowl and then turns off the lamp. He tugs you against his chest, and you exhale happily, his warmth effortlessly pulling you under into a deep sleep.

——

Two Weeks Later

After situating yourself in the airplane seat, you pull out your phone and open Instagram. You and Harry are on your way back from Italy. It was an unforgettable two weeks together, and not one day went by without you making new memories.

You had told only the closest people to you about the engagement—your parents and Harry's. No one else knows, so you decided to announce the news with an Instagram post. You wanted to wait until after vacation to worry about making phone calls and giving details about how it happened.

Now, you start creating a post on the fourteen-hour flight to California. You already know what picture to use—Harry cutely holding a bottle of wine along the lusciously green countryside, ready for a picnic date in a park. Also with an impressive mustache. Throughout the ten days after the engagement, Harry decided to grow his faint mustache into a full-fledged one. You don't know how it grew so fast, honestly. You also didn't know how to feel about it at first, but you're accustomed to liking it now. It makes him look mature.

How it feels between your thighs—well, that's a story for another day.

Harry has chosen to post a picture of the ring, gleaming brilliantly in the pink velvet box. And with him being the artsy, moderately strange social media poster, he had to add something extra to the picture—a paint swatch. Both of you spontaneously went paint shopping one day when you got bored in the villa. You had been talking to him for months about redoing the bathroom at the house, so you went to a local paint store to look at different options. Harry, being the sentimental and cheesy man he is, suggested painting it the color of the ring box he proposed with. You remember thinking the diluted pink would complement the white tiles and granite counter of the master bathroom perfectly.

You couldn't possibly refuse the idea, especially since it would always remind you of that special evening on the beach.

You had searched with him to find a color that resembled the box, all while goofing around and laughing at the bizarrely specific names of the swatches. You pointed to a light green swatch appropriately named Peapod and told Harry he should paint the kitchen that color since he loves peas so much. He pouted at you and dramatically walked down another aisle. Typical. And so sensitive about his peas!

Harry is sleeping beside you, his head snugly settled on a pillow propped against the airplane window while soft snores escape his mouth. You'll wait for him to wake up so you can both post at the same time. As for now, you rest your head on his shoulder to also take a nap. Harry stirs and drowsily slaps his hand onto your knee to keep you close.

You'll miss Italy's golden sunsets, good-natured people, and ethereal views. However, the thought of going home and beginning a new chapter with your fiancé doesn't sound too bad.

Bliss, in all its glory, takes hold once again.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry styles #adore-laur #pink velvet

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eddies-whoreee · 2 years ago

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Forbidden Fruit

Bro I swear I had this on scheduled post. For the day it was supposed to be posted on. Come to fucking find out. I didn’t and it never got posted. But here it is the long awaited. I’m so pissed.

Summary: after a bad fight between Eddie and his wife. He stays the night at his best friend’s house. Instead of his best friend, Steve he’s greeted by Steve’s daughter who was away for college but is visiting. Feelings are confessed and things go further.

CW: cheating, daddy kink very small, dads best friend!eddie, age gap, , unprotected P in V, pet names, almost getting caught,Reader is over 18!!

You are pulled from your focus on the TV show you are currently watching with a hurried knock on the door. Your head snaps to the front door with a confused face. Your dad didn’t say he was expecting anyone. You get up fixing your ridden up shorts that seem to go higher with every step. You look into the peep hole and see a soaked Eddie Munson, one of your dads best friend. You immediately open up, “Mr.Munson? Oh my goodness are you okay? Come in” you say worriedly steeping out of the way. He chuckles lightly shaking his hair softly like a wet dog. Before stepping in, “I’m fine honey, where’s your dad?” He asks taking off his jacket which you set on the coat rack for him. “He’s on a work trip. He didn’t tell you?” you respond crossing your arms to mask your nipples peaking through your thin material shirt. “I actually didn’t call,my mistake. Is it okay if I crash here for tonight. Trouble at home” he says with a goofy smile. “Oh yeah, no problem it’s just our guest room is kinda a mess….” You trail off. “Oh that’s okay I can sleep on the couch, trust me I’ve slept on worse” he assures you. “Okay….” You speak looking him up and down admiring the way you could see through his white T-shirt that was soaked. “If that’s okay.” He says pulling out of your dark and twisted thought of him. “I’m sorry what? I was zoned out” you state, “can I get a change of clothes.” He smiles showing his pearly white. “Shit- sorry yeah I’ll go get some of my dads clothes. You want a shower?” You ask walking towards your dads room. “That’d be amazing” he says fidgeting with the chain on his jeans. So you grab him a change of clothes from your dads room. Grey sweatpants, white t-shirt, socks and underwear. As you hand him the folded clothes. “You got a hair tie bunny?” He asks. You take the scrunchie from your wrist and hand it to him. He smiles as a light blush runs to his face. “Thanks sweetheart.” He replies waking down the hall. You smile and walk back to the couch.

The tension was thick, you were in the kitchen keeping an eye on the boil pasta. Eddie was sitting on the couch hair still wet from the shower. And a beer. It took every fiber of your being to not walk in the living room to jump his bones. God, he was so hot. And not the young boy clean cut hot. The mature, rugged hot. It was 6:30 PM. No where near night and your dad was going to be gone for at least three days. So it was just you. You huffed setting a timer for 10 minutes and walked back in the living room. “Food should be done in 20 minutes” you state plopping down a little too close to Eddie. “I told you doll, you don’t have to make me dinner I’m fine with a cup of noodles” he says. “Non sense a hard working man like yourself deserves a meal. And you said you were having a bad day, the least I can do is make you a nice warm meal.” You tell him. “You sure know how to butter me up.” He states looking over at you, eyes trailing down your body. It was so wrong, the way he looked at you was wrong. His thoughts, were wrong. “Eddie?” You peep. God, the way you said his name. He was going to die with the boner he was growing. Especially in these grey sweatpants that hid absolutely nothing. “Can you touch me?” You ask playing with your hair giving him a innocent look. “Come again?” His eyes widen. You giggle, “touch me….” You trail off. He shocked and by shocked. He frozen in place, he’s looking at you. “Kiss me, play with each other” you continue. “Kiss? Play? Babydoll do you know what your asking for?” he coos tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You nod, “please” you squeak making Eddie’s ringed hands around your waist. He then pulled you onto his lap making you gasp at the sudden movement. “You’re a fucking vixen you know that? I’ve been dying to fuck you” he groans as you grind on his boner. “Mm, yeah? All I had to do was ask. Thought it would take a little more convincing. Since, you know..” you tell him holding up his hand with his wedding ring on. “Oh god don’t do that bunny. How was I supposed to resist you. Look at you, these shorts are basically panties and I can see your tits through your shirt.” He states. “Mr.Munson have you been obsessing over me this whole time” you say faux shock. “Oh shut up, and take your shirt off” he jokes. You giggle as you take your shirt off. Your tits spilling out making him suck in a breath. With that he stands up pick you up like it was nothing. You wrap you legs around his torso and arms around his neck. “Where are we going” you gasp. “I’m not gonna fuck you on a couch” he tells you walking up the stairs. “And they say chivalry is dead” you state. He chuckles, “you’re a fucking smart ass” he chuckles as he flings open the door of your bedroom. He takes a few steps before tossing you on the bed making you giggle as he climbs on top of you. He pulls you into a heated make out session. It wasn’t soft and slow, it was rough and fast and a little sloppy. But you two were in a rush okay? You both had been wanting his since forever. “God is this damn thing glued to you.” He grunts trying to undo the knot on your shorts. “Just-” as you were about to undo them he gets frustrated and just rips them off making you yelp and the feeling of sudden cool air hitting your soaked cunt. He tosses the torn material to the side. “Look at you, holy fuck, you are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen” he coos, you would feel awkward if you were naked and the other person was clothed but it was Eddie. If he told you the color purple was green you’d believe it. He pushed your legs to spread wider. “You’re fucking dripping baby? All this just f’me?” He asks running his thumb along your folds teasingly. “P-Please m-more” you whine bucking your hips slightly forward. “Aww, it’s okay, gonna give you what you want” he states taking off his shirt, his inked torso and arms. Made your cunt throb, along with his toned muscles. Next is his sweatpants, he slides them down his just till mid thigh. His cock bulging through his boxers. You audibly gasp once he takes his cock out. A smug smirk ran across his face.

“Like what you see?” He teases, your face blushes redder as if possible. “You’re so big” you peep eyes glued to his dick. “You can take it. Right? You’re a good girl, you can do it” the last part coming out in a mumble as he aligns himself with your entrance. He throws his head back at the feeling of your arousal coating the tip of his cock, that leaked with precum. “Ya ready bunny?” He asks, you nod eagerly muttering little pleas. With that he slams into you, all of him filling you up at once. Stretching you out, hitting your pelvis with one thrust. “Fuck! Thankyouthankyouthankyou” you yelp bakc arched and head thrown back. “That’s it, holy fuck, you’re so tight.” He says pounding into you. He pulls you up so both of your chests are touching. Your tits rubbing against his chest. You wrap your hands around his chest clawing at his back. “Fucking hell, it’s like this pretty pussy was made for me” he grunts pounding into you at a relentless pace. “Mmmm, please! Oh! F-fuck” you squeal overcome with pleasure. The feeling of being stretched to the brink. It made your eyes water with every thrust. It sounded like a wild animal fight. The wolf finally catching the bunny. Your moans and groans mixed together. You mind filled, with Eddie, Mr.Munson. “Feel good bunny?” He coos, knowing by the way you were basically yelling incoherently rambles. You nod vigorously, not able to form any words. In swift motion he has you back to straddling him. He takes your face in one of his hands keeping the other one wrapped around your waist. “Use your words, m’kay?” He states squishing your cheeks together. As your eyes focus back on his, “m’kay!” You squeak. “I asked you a question” he says. As he brings his hand down to your clit rubbing it slow and agonizing.

“Oh! I-I can’t r-rememberrrr” you whine rolling your hips forward. “Hm.. I asked if it felt good?” He asks starting his thrust back up not as fast and harsh but a nice pace. “Fuck! Yes! Feels amazing” you whimper. “Yeah? Want me to go faster?” He teases speeding up the assault to your clit. “Yes!” You yelp. His pace is now brutal, “m’gonnna cum, p-please” you whine. “I’m close too bunny. Gonna cum s’deep in you, have me leaking out till tomorrow” he groans his cock twitching inside you. You felt the knot in your stomach snap. You see stars and feel pure euphoria. As your orgasm rocked through you Eddie’s also washes over him at the same time. You two throw your heads back in sync. “Fuck!mmmm daddy fuck!” You cry head fuzzy. “Ss-s-so good. Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” He whimpers digging his head into the crook of your neck. “Daddy?huh?” He teases a smirk creeping on his face. “Shut up” you say breathlessly. Your chests heaving and heavy breathing was interrupted by a voice booming through the house. “Hellooo is anyone home? Y/n?” Your dad calls out from the living room. “Fuck! He’s was supposed to be gone” you whisper-yell. “Get in bed and act asleep. I’ll say I took you to bed since you fell asleep on the couch.” He says while you lift off of him. His cum spilling out of you. You scurry to the bed and cover up fully. Eddie hurriedly gets up and fixes clothes and his hair. You close your eyes and act asleep. While he just stands there. “Eddie cover that stain on the bed with my jacket. It’s on the dresser” you tell him eyes still shut. He nods doing exactly that.

He walks out your room as Steve was heading up the stairs. Steve stops midstep. “Eddie? I didn’t know you were here” he says taking a bite of his apple. “Yeah.. trouble with Kat, so I came here. Y/n let me in” Eddie says walking to Steve. “Oh, okay. Do you know where she is?” He asks taking another bite. “She’s asleep in her room. Guess she was tired she fell asleep on the couch.” Eddie shrugs scratching his neck. “She said you were on a business trip” Eddie says. “Got off yesterday, stayed today to rest and now I’m back it was supposed to be all week but it got rescheduled. I actually have a date tonight I just came home to shower and change into my going out suits.” Steve tells Eddie with a small nudge and a smirk. Eddie lets out a chuckle and nods. “Ill be back tomorrow morning or so.” Steve states. Walking up the stairs. Eddie huffs walking into the living room to sit and think about what just happened. Did he just fuck his best friends daughter. Yes. Yes he did.

About and half an hour later Steve leaves saying goodbye to Eddie. Once eddie is sure Steve left he has to come back to you. He walks in your room and you actually fell asleep. He shakes you lightly. You flutter you eyes awake and immediately smile seeing him. You snuggle into his chest. “You okay? Baby? You did so good for me” he tells you giving your forehead a kiss. “M’all good. But I can tell I will be sore for the next couple of days” you reply. “I’ll give you a massage.” He states. “Yesss please you say laying on your back.

And with that he was giving you a massage. “So…when you said daddy” he jokes making you groan.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #stranger things #eddie munson fics #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #darker smut fics #daddy!eddie munson #older!eddie #older!eddie munson #dadsbestfriend!eddie #dadsbestfriend!eddie munson

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rubykgrant · 4 months ago

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I finally figured out the new version for the design of my musical super hero! She's part of the group of hero and villain kids I've been playing around with for about 16 years (dang). I started the story with my best friend, and the characters have all gone through a LOT of changes, but because I've had them so long, I sort of know how to keep the core of who I wanted them to be~

(also, thanks to some of my friends for giving me some suggestions on her look in the past! @v-voeux and @bonkalore I appreciate it~)

As a regular kid, Min is 14 years old, a new student at school. She's a social butterfly, who is also very smart and creative (her main talents are music and fashion, but she also takes gymnastics and ballet). She's studied a lot of classical instruments, but she also has a passion for modern styles of music, so her personal taste is very broad. Min participates in a lot of talent shows. chorus groups, and plays. She makes her own fashion designs, for herself and people she knows well. Her signature outfit has a little bit of an 80s-vibe; loos short-sleeve shirt tied at the side (with a rainbow of sunset colors), over a seafoam colored jumper dress, dusty-blue leggings, and pink shoes (her favorite colors are pink and different shades of blue/turquoise). Her hair is black (with a rosie-brown shine), cut in a bouncy-bob, with two little pink hairclips. She has a pink bracelet on one wrist, and a pale-pink scrunchie on the other. Min is chubby, but also very athletic.

Her fun personality makes it easy for people to be drawn to her, but she's very aware of how fickle and fleeting popularity is when people become demanding... and then get upset when you aren't what they want you to be. Although she's sweet with a pretty face, Min is perfectly comfortable confronting people who try to boss her around, and isn't afraid of rejection (this also goes for teachers; she's a straight-A student, but pushes back when adults try to put pressure on her to succeed). At first glance, she's a bubbly and cute, and while that isn't UNtrue, Min is also subtly tenacious, capable of deep thoughts and emotional insight, and very self-assured. She truly values real friendship, and loves making the people she cares about happy with fun activities. She's also very good at being motivational and encouraging.

Her mother is Chinese, and her father is Japanese, both working with animals (for years, they've been doing wildlife studies and rehabilitation, meaning they've moved around often, visiting different places. recently, they've started working with a zoo and an emergency animal care facility). Her aunt (father's sister) is recently divorced and living with them, with her two sons (Min herself is an only child, but gets along well with her cousins). She can be flirty at times, but isn't interested in anything serious yet. She casually dates, but because she's always nice, nobody feels too upset when she kindly lets people down/ends a relationship (when she gets a little older, she figures out she's polyam, ace, and attracted to any gender identity; she uses the pan flag because she likes the color combo~).

When she begins to develop super powers, Min discovers she can literally create "musical energy"; turning sounds into something with a shape. She can do anything from snapping her fingers to send out a chock-wave, or creating vibrations in the air that take the form of a musical instrument (interacting with it, and using it for attacks or defense). Things around her that involve music/sound can also be influenced by her (such as radios, or loud bells in towers). She can manipulate sound to isolate a specific noise, use echolocation, imitate another person's voice voice, and translate any language she hears. Because music can have an emotional response, she also has powers that follow "musical rules"... that is, breaking into song, and having her friends join in, literally has an effect on reality (she often provides mood music when the hero group needs some motivation while fighting various bad guys).

She has an affinity for butterflies, so she creates little wings made of the pink musical energy, letting her fly like a fairy (they aren't connected to her, instead floating behind her back, and disappear when she isn't flying). Min designs her own outfit, as well as the ones the other hero kids wear. Hers is similar to a marching band uniform, a dark pink vest and shorts that are cuffed. Part of the vest is a pale-gray, with lines styled to look like a violin. Her leggings are also pale-gray, with two different patterns (one leg has vertical stripes that look like piano keys, the other leg has thin horizontal stripes that look like sheet music). She has dark pink boots with little butterfly designs on the toes/heels. Her shoulders have short butterfly sleeves, and the vest also has a pattern of musical notes with butterfly wings at the edge, Min's super her symbol. She has the same shape made out of the musical energy as a headphone/mic. Her mask is shaped like a butterfly as well. Min's hair is more curled, and pulled up in a side-ways ponytail, with one final butterfly clip.

In the past, I've had Min's hero design look like a simple "super hero swimsuit" with pink butterfly sleeves, and I've also had versions with a skirt so she has more of a classic magical girl look... but I wanted to really try for something more unique, make the music theme very clear, include her butterfly designs, and also make it a little more sporty~

#character design #magical girl #super hero #concept art

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toxinoire · 9 months ago

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Finally, I can write again!

This is how I visualize the final scene went down. A mix of both the 1988 movie and the musical.

~~~~~~

"Say hi to God."

Kaboom

Veronica, with a cigarette between her fingers and a sprained ankle, made her way through the school hallway as the other students ran past her to see where the explosion came from.

She contemplated.

She feels nothing.

Is she happy that four people had to fucking die? Absolutely not.

But...

When she looks at who are dead, Heather Chandler, Kurt Kelly, Ram Sweeney, Jason Dean...

Honestly she only feels bad for Heather. Because as much of a bitch as she was, she had her good moments. Moments that made her seem slightly human.

Kurt and Ram, she doesn't care. Those two were rapists. She doesn't like that she pulled the trigger, but Kurt and Ram being dead meant nothing to her.

As for JD....

She hopes he sees his mother. She hopes his father grows a brain and realizes his son is gone because he was never a father to him.

But as for him literally exploding in front of her...

She feels nothing.

She can only mourn that JD she first met, the lost boy who wanted his mother and was sweet, kind, a gentleman, and caring. Not the one that died in front of her.

The crowds moved past her, Veronica is too tired to even care that no one is asking what happened to her, why she looks disheveled and has blood running down her head.

Well,

Someone did say something.

"Veronica." Heather Duke called her, in all red. Veronica can't deny that she looks good in it, but still, she hates her in it. "You look like hell." Heather Duke moved closer to her, as if to inspect her. Veronica notices the slight concern in her eyes, and how she seems to be holding back her hands from reaching out to Veronica.

Veronica hates that last detail. Heather used to always reach out to her.

"Yeah?" Veronica chuckles. "I just got back."

Then, another voice calls her. "Veronica!"

Veronica and Heather Duke turn around to see Heather McNamara running to them. "Where have you been?!"

Heather Mac looks worried. Like, really really worried. "Miss Flemming told us you killed yourself." Heather Mac actually reaches out to her, inspecting her injuries, before she rests her hands on Veronica's face.

Veronica doesn't even hide how she leans into the touch.

She then sees the red fucking scrunchie and snaps back to where she is.

Veronica moves closer to Heather Duke and turns her around to take that damn thing off her.

"Veronica, what are you doing?" Heather Duke asks.

The students who were originally going to run past them stops in their tracks when they see Veronica with the scrunchie.

She wears it on her wrist and raises it up.

Time to actually do something.

"Listen up folks, war is over. Brand new sheriff's come to town." Veronica knows she sounds tired, but fuck that. "We are done with acting evil, we will lay out weapons down." She ties her hair with the scrunchie.

Everyone is watching her.

Good.

"We're all damaged, we're all frightened, we're all freaks. But that's alright. We'll endure it, we'll survive it-" Veronica pauses slightly when she sees Betty and Martha by the crowd. She calls them. "Martha, Betty."

They both turn to look at her, clearly resisting the urge to move. Veronica takes a deep breath. "Are you free tonight?"

Martha and Betty look at each other, before turning back to Veronica. They actually move forward this time.

It was silent for a while.

"What?" Martha breaks the silence.

"Uh, my date to pep rally blew-"

Accidental slip

"-me off..."

That's better

"So I was wondering if you guys weren't doing anything tonight we could pop some jiffy pop? Rent a video?" Veronica can hear how hopeful she sounds.

She doesn't have the right to be hopeful after what she did, but she still is.

"Something with a happy ending." She finishes. Veronica really wants a happy ending right now.

"Are there any happy endings?" Martha asks. Gosh, she sounds so tired. Betty isn't even looking at her in the eye.

Veronica looks at everyone around them and sighs. She turns back to her--hopefully still best friends. "I can't promise no more Heathers, high school may not ever end." She steps closer. "Still I miss you, I'd be honored-" She swallows. "If you'd let me be your friend."

"My friend." Martha says, as she takes Veronica by the hand and pulls her into a hug.

"We can be seventeen. We can learn how to chill." Veronica feels tears form in her eyes as Martha joins her. "If no one-"

Then, Betty joins them. "-loves me now, someday somebody will." She finally meets Veronica's gaze. "We can be seventeen. Still time to make things right. One day we'll change the world, but let's kick back tonight."

This time, it's Veronica who reaches out her to Heather Duke and Heather Mac.

Heather Mac immediately grabs her hand. "Let's go be seventeen. Take off our clothes and dance."

Veronica walks, well, limps, towards Heather Duke and reaches out, a silent plea in her eyes. Heather Duke hesitantly takes her hand, and once she has fully held it, Veronica pulls her into a hug.

Heather Duke puts one hand on Veronica's back, lightly returning the hug. But she grips onto Veronica's jacket as if it's a lifeline.

Veronica sighed. She really missed her. She didn't like what the scrunchie turned her into.

But holy shit, did she missed her.

"Act like we're all still kids, cause this could be our final chance."

Veronica smiles as she sees Betty, Martha, Heather M, and Heather D all try to be nice to each other.

Maybe they can all be friends.

Now everyone is joining them.

"Always be seventeen

Celebrate you and I

maybe we won't grow old.

And maybe then we'll never die."

Veronica feels happy. Genuinely, happy.

She missed that.

"We'll make it beautiful."

Veronica swears she hears Heather Chandler's voice.

"We'll make it beautiful.

Beautiful

Beautiful"

This really feels like a win for Veronica.

#heathers the musical #heathers 1988 #heathers #veronica sawyer #heather duke #heather mcnamara #heather chandler #jason dean #martha dunnstock #betty finn #chansaw #dukesaw #mcnamawyer #mcduke #poly!heathersxveronica #jdronica #at least they're implied #yay i found the motivation to write a short fic again #heathers fanfiction

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orlissa · 1 year ago

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7, 8, 18, 21, 32

7, Hair-ties or scrunchies? For like... three, fours years now I've mostly only used one thing to tie my hair: three of those "telephone wire" plastic hairties put together. If I'm out and my hair is loose, chances are my tie-trio is on my right wrist (one of the snapped once, I just replaced it with another one)

8, How many water bottles are in your room right now? None. I don't really see the appeal? I do have a thermos I sometimes use to take coffee or tea with me, but it's in the kitchen right now.

18, What hair products do you use? Not much, really. My shampoo is a Hungarian brand, a 1-in-2 shampoo and conditioner with almond oil, and most of the time I'll just use that. On occassion I'll put on some extra wash out conditioner, or use gel/foam if I want to coax out some natural waves/wanna set it. Bit of spray if I wanna tame my baby hairs.

21, Something you have kept since childhood? Pff... there is probably a lot of stuff like that, although it depends how we define childhood. I think I have a book of Grimm fairy tales that my mom bought when she was pregnant with me.

32, Do you have a favorite towel? Yes! It's actually from a sporting store, and it's of a lighter and softer material than your average towel, and also bigger than average (at least around here)--if I wrap it around myself, it reaches just below my knees.

#meme #personal #ask

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mgnifiqueyoo · 3 months ago

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Book: "Vessel." Pairing: Oh Junseok (ATBO) x Reader 1.8 - "ΣΚΙΩΜΕΝΑ ΜΥΣΤΗΡΙΑ." Word Count: 2,371

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───── ❝ shadowed mysteries. ❞ ─────

In a dark, wide room, the colorful blinking lights were the only ones that made me see through everything as I stumbled across a few people who were dancing to the loud music that played.

So, this is how parties are.

And even Junseok couldn’t stop himself from grooving naturally to the music. “Come on!” He encouraged me to dance with him as he took my wrist in his hand, pulling me closer as he somehow managed to balance the cup of alcohol in his other hand. Every color reflected on his all-black outfit as it was only his face that I could see clearly.

“Isn’t this fun?” Junseok asked, still swaying from side to side as he seemed to be enjoying the night.

“It’s… It’s fine with me!” I didn’t want to make him feel bad for me but this party was just so crowded that I was kind of scared at the thought of accidentally bumping into anyone.

In response, his lips formed into a pout but a playful one, faking pity. “Well, you should try letting your mind run wild for once!” He suggested, sticking the tip of his tongue out as he even winked at me.

God, I’m stuck with a party boy.

I can’t believe I’m stuck with a party boy.

“Junseok!” Someone called from the second floor of the venue as I looked up to see the mayor’s son, Yeonjun, alongside his other friends.

“I’ll be back here in a bit, okay?” Junseok told me, his tone slightly sounding a little lazier as he made his way to the crowd, later heading upstairs as he and his friends talked to each other, their smiles casting me out of the zone.

I just never understood why most people wanted to get all sweaty and drunk for a party. “Huh?” I uttered, perplexed as standing still in the middle of a noisy crowd, watching Yeonjun come down the stairs as he started enjoying the music as soon as he stepped onto the ground floor.

But then, he was suddenly going in my direction, biting his bottom lip as he smirked at me, which made me raise both of my eyebrows.

“Hey, Y/N! You enjoying the party?” Yeonjun asked with a sultry tone, his voice all husky and deep as all I could do was nod in response, completely setting aside that I was already uncomfortable here. “That’s great! Wanna dance with me?” He asked right after, placing his hand behind my back as I could smell the stench of alcohol from him.

It would've been better if he wasn't... drunk.

And while dancing with him, I stared at the sight behind him, seeing how Junseok leaned his back against the rails of the higher floor as he seemed to not be interested in whatever Rakwon and Junmin were talking about.

He looked as if he was staring at someone from afar when he suddenly focused his gaze on the cup. “... Wanna take this to the restroom?” Yeonjun questioned, already wasted from the amount of alcohol he was probably drinking as I snapped out of it.

Was I the only one who wasn’t drunk here yet? Well, that’s expected. Everyone was already wilding out as one boy was even spinning his fingers slowly towards both sides of his head as if he was crazy, making faces towards a girl with a vibrant outfit who also had her hair styled in high pigtails.

Looks aside, she was unimpressed with the guy.

I mean, it’s weird to do that to someone.

“Huh?” I said back once again, forgetting about the question he asked me as he only snickered, ruffling my hair as he later took the scrunchie off, letting my hair down.

“You’re so hot… weirdly.” Yeonjun bit his lower lip once more, his eyes drowsy from the alcohol and the huge crowd. He later had a tight grip on my arm, pushing me towards a wall as I gasped in surprise.

“Do you know what girls like you need?” He sounded more like he was threatening me as I took a deep breath, finding myself disgusted at the scent he gave off. His perfume earlier must’ve gone away when he started sweating.

And honestly, I didn’t want anything like this to happen!

I want to get out of here. I need to get out. “No… I don’t want to know.” My breath hitched as I felt the panic rush in, causing him to fake a smile as his palms slid down both sides of my waist.

“You do,” he coldly said back as he was leaning in closer to me, his lips inches away from my jaw as all I could do was stand, bracing myself for something I didn’t wish to happen.

No one could even hear me anyway.

I shouldn’t have been here.

“Hey, Yeonjun.” I heard a familiar voice call his name as he turned around to look at the person who approached him.

It was Junseok.

“Yeah, what do you need? I’m in the middle of something here,” the mayor’s son responded without care, probably already impatient as his intentions were clear to me now.

The moment Junseok took a look at me, the look on his face drastically changed in one bit. “Can you get your hands off her?” His tone was cold and deep, aggressively pushing away both of Yeonjun’s hands from my waist as the taller one only laughed, later having a grim glare.

“We’re doing just fine! Can you fuck off for a bit?”

Obviously, Yeonjun was bothered by him as Junseok took another look at me once again before turning around to face the taller one. “Okay, but she's my friend and no one gets to touch her like that.” He was fueled, angered at how he had the audacity to tell him off when he was clearly forcing me into doing something I didn’t want.

And that was the first time I’d ever heard the boy say that I was his friend.

“What? Do you want to be hit?” The other one, however, was still sarcastic, completely ignoring how serious Junseok was as he even pushed him, harshly and strongly, resulting in the boy stumbling across the floor and a few people who danced busily to the music. “Leave us alone, asshole!” Yeonjun’s voice was so loud that the music was only a blur and everyone’s gazes were on the two of them as I backed away into the shadows, not wanting to be hurt by whatever was about to come.

It didn’t take long for Junseok to fight back when Yeonjun was about to hit him once again and he was moving so fast that I wasn’t even sure of what was happening anymore.

And it all ended up with Yeonjun lying down on the ground, red dripping from the bridge of his nose as he groaned, definitely in pain.

“Yeonjun-” I felt the need to help him out for some reason but I was interrupted by someone wrapping his hand around my wrist.

It didn’t even feel like a harsh, painfully tight grip but just a reassuring one, reminding me that I shouldn’t do it. Turning around, I saw Junseok, causing me to shudder in shock. It’s like he’s moving at the speed of light at this point. “We need to go,” Junseok whispered as he still held my wrist, later leading me out of the venue with him.

As soon as the two of us were at the parking lot outside, he immediately took off his own jacket, placing it over my shoulders as he couldn’t even look me straight in the eye.

Was he humiliated to be around me? I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone here. This was a mistake.

“Does this make you feel better?” He asked, his voice slightly trembling and it was as faint as Seunghwan’s, which made me see him even more differently than before.

“It does… Thanks, anyway,” I said back, keeping my head down as I didn’t have the courage to look at him either.

He was humiliated because of what I refused to do.

This really was a mistake.

Why did I even agree to this?

I couldn’t help but avoid him, turning the opposite way as I was ready to head back into IST, planning to lock myself in my room for a while. I would’ve done things that felt wrong to me because of him. I guess he expected me to give him special treatment just like how the others did.

Yeonjun Choi is one hell of a fuckboy.

“... Is it okay if I walk with you home?” Junseok asked, breaking the silence as I closed my eyes shut, taking another deep breath before turning to look at him. I was scared of what he’d think of me because I ruined his night. “It’s late at night and I don’t want you to get into that kind of experience again.” He added, expressing his worries as I nodded, turning away as I waited for him to walk closer to me.

I felt guilty over it.

I should’ve done something.

But I was so afraid of what Yeonjun was capable of doing that I had no choice but to let it all happen. “I wasn’t hurt.” I denied it, causing him to let out a questioning hum, not believing what I told him. Well, it wasn’t me who got into a fight with Yeonjun but instead, it was Junseok.

“You didn’t have to stand up for me.” I continued, which made him scoff, clearly offended.

“I have to. That’s my duty,” Junseok answered, crossing his arms later on.

Duty? I didn’t know he counted that as his duty. “I didn’t know you took me seriously.” I chuckled as he looked at me, the expression on his face gradually getting more offended with every single word that came out of my mouth.

“Well, duh? I should. You’re not just some kind of... paper clip. You breathe and talk… You have a life,” Junseok rambled, sounding a bit agitated at me for thinking like that as I only sighed.

“Why are you comparing me to paper clips?” I asked out of curiosity, finding the comparison a bit out of place as he had his mouth open for a bit, later closing it before turning his head to look at me.

“Ah… I don’t know but maybe because paper clips may be small but they don’t break easily. They bend.” He somehow found a meaning under his spontaneous comparison, which gave me a reason to smile even if something like that just happened.

I can’t believe this version of him had a nicer side.

“... But you weren’t holding sheets of paper together earlier. You were in between boulders.” His voice even gets softer, still upset at what had happened to me at the party as he still chose to avoid looking at me. “So, I had to do it.” Junseok ended his explanation, huffing as he hugged himself, feeling cold as I was willing to take his jacket off of me yet he shook his head instantly.

But I was too stubborn, of course. “No, it’s okay. I don’t need it.” Junseok refused, pushing my hands alongside his jacket away from me, probably feeling guilty for bringing me there at the party.

“But it’s cold.” I insisted, which only made him push it further towards me as he didn’t really want to take his jacket back.

“But you were hurt.”

When he said those words, I knew that I just had to follow him even if I didn’t want to wear his jacket anymore. Junseok was just as stubborn as I was but for good reasons, maybe? It’s like the younger version of himself came to light. Selfless and protective. Trustworthy and loyal.

As if nothing had changed after all.

“I just wanted you to be safe,” he said as if I still hadn’t caught up with it ever since we made our way out of the party. Yet I didn’t think it was something negative.

It’s just surprising that someone had thought of me this way.

I’m assuming that Yeonjun probably thought of me as a nobody.

As we reached the front of the dormitory, the two of us exchanged unreadable looks before heading our way in. Junseok then takes a pause to let me walk into the halls of the dormitory first, keeping an eye on me from behind. It was only our footsteps that caused sounds in the hallway as most students were probably still at the party, enjoying the time of their lives there after the fight ended.

I thought that it was strange. Everything happened so fast in the dark that when the lights were turned on, all I ended up seeing was Yeonjun groaning on the ground, defeated. How could’ve Junseok done that? It didn’t feel real to me at first but now, it’s starting to sink into my head as well as more questions about it.

And now, I was facing the door to my room as I realized that it was my time to say goodbye to him… again.

But before I could even do that, the door of my bedroom suddenly creaked open as I found out that my two friends, Seunghwan and Hyunjun, stayed there for four and a half hours. “Oh, you guys are early!” The boy with the compass necklace was brushing his teeth, already wearing his pajamas as the other one seemed to be startled at how loud his voice was.

“The party sucked.” Junseok rolled his eyes, which made both of them give each other a look of disbelief, probably finding it unexpected for him to say something like that. As the two of them simultaneously opened their mouths to ask questions, Junseok held his finger up and stopped them. “Zip it. I’m heading back to bed.” He sharply stated before taking another look at me.

His gaze softened again. “Call me if you need me, okay?”

And he finally walked away, leaving Hyunjun and Seunghwan completely clueless about whatever happened at the party.

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