#my style is rapidly changing after not drawing for so long

[wolfiemun-official]

I've got like 2 months worth of stuff from my Twitter that is slowly making its way here

My favorite thing is still werewolf Shadowheart keeping Lae'zel and their egg warm

[nights-at-crystarium]

Fragments - episodes 41-46 author notes

You can find similar breakdown posts on older episodes in my pinned!

Get comfy and reread with me the finale of the Il Mheg arc and the intro of a certain loser.

First off, I wanna emphasize how important this arc’s for Vivi. Had he not liked Il Mheg in general and Feo Ul in particular, the rest of the story would play out very differently, and not in favor of the sundered. His initial positive impression of the First is pretty much the only thing that saves it.

We've reached a high, physically and emotionally. You know what that means, as per the shb rollercoaster rule :>

Pan pride pixie blesses Thancred, ca. 2024, colorized. I accidentally gave them the pan colors but hey it works. ALSO! Stars in his eyes.

Re: distant nightmare, I’ll let you in on a secret, or a third party perspective if you will. Vivi's full of shit, he's too focused on the big picture. He’s narrating this whole story, but his perspective is, well, just that.

Initially this was Vivi's inner monologue, then I thought that I should just let them talk, and it wrote itself.

More under the cut~

Drawing a buncha vivi-lookalikes that act soooooorta but not really like him, just slightly off, was a surprisingly fun exercise.

Luckily for Thancred, though, he sniffs out the pixie magic, and knows better than indulging them.

...Still, what a shitty fucked up day. Sorry, Thancred :’>

This here’s an example of a moment where I’m uncertain if I’m being too subtle and if this flies over some readers’ heads. He refers to Alisaie’s “job” of dragging Vivi back to msq, which she recently started lowkey dreading (episodes 32-33)

...Though she goes back to her “duty” in episode 43.

She's pointedly SILENT throughout the episode, doing her best to hold back.

Thancred's a man who can say no to begging dogs.

Gridania mention! Vivi’s gridanian! He never speaks ill of the elementals, he's wary of them even a world apart.

This pixie's life is something Feo Ul's willing to sacrifice. Episodes 42-43 tell this story in reverse order, yes this’s the pixie that was supposed to agree with Thancred and go with the Scions to the Crystarium.

As to why there’s a dozen of vivis popping up as a backup: they needed just one fake Vivi to go with the Scions, but try organizing the pixies. Their plan’s already failed when this first pixie-Vivi refused to play their part.

“Yeah no, our guy’s special, but not as special as to explode in confetti”

I love his first ingame appearance in that Varis cutscene, this moment has similar energy: barely enters the stage, instantly gets impaled on a long object. This’s not foreshadowing, no, why would you think that-

The “camera” is perfectly still, there’s even some symmetry, demonstrating how calm and prepared Emet is. He didn’t expect much and he’s still disappointed.

This’s a super old comic. I spent the first half of 2022 testing and trying to find a style for Fragments, back then I had no plans, none, zero, absolutely no interest to give Emet a role bigger than a mention. The earliest version of the script had very few Emet scenes, which, looking back on it, was gonna be a disservice to his character. Well, that changed rapidly in late 2023 when I fell for him so hard that I broke my neck, and now I look back on a lot of what I did with Vivi with new eyes. THE EYEROLL. After spending two years developing a guy for a fun wolgraha chemistry (at the same time I was perfectly aware that Exarch and Emet are foils. I made a foil for Exarch, what on earth did I expect-), I’m going through a mindblow after mindblow as I realize HOW GOOD VIVI IS FOR EMET (and vice versa ofc) and how many things they have in common. This wasn’t always the case, Vivi just gradually got more cynical, tired, ✨grey✨ and everything else that makes a guy consider hitting it with The Other Old Man.

They’re off to a great start.

From Emet’s pov, this must really hurt, as in how many other shards of Azem might’ve snarled at him like this. Even though he must be numb to it by now, who says that there isn’t the tiniest flicker of hope when he approaches yet another not-Azem. He may deny and hate and try to snuff out that spark, but the fatal Soulmate Magnet keeps doing its thing.

Parallels to episode 2.

Apparently, Vivi’s first reaction to encountering his to-be-most-prominent boyfriends is to attack them somehow.

This’s really, REALLY dumb of him, and he even comments on it shortly after. But yes, his isekai tale in the First was rather pleasant just until now, and it lulled him into the false sense of security. OF COURSE there are ascians everywhere, not just on the Source. Vivi just forgor.

Emet tests Vivi's reactions to insults/being treated as a lesser, silliness, flirt.

I regret to inform you that both Vivi and Alisaie have been disarmed so easily. The tone quickly shifts, the weapon’s lowered.

Alisaie makes bad puns/jokes in canon, I thought it'd fit if she laughed at that kinda jokes too, and in the least fitting situations, to top it off. Alphinaud’s disappointed, even if he can hardly be called an expert in humor.

“It’s up to you”. Emet stops fooling around, assuming a more serious tone. He may not respect Vivi or his agency here, but he provides him with a choice that's guaranteed to give him some trust points, and uses "we" for an illusion of unity/equality, a not really subtle nudge towards cooperation, it's not me vs you anymore, it's "us".

Whether Vivi picks up on the manipulation or not remains to be seen, but Emet gets his way here.

Forgive me this lil tangent, but I’m so giddy and excited to write Emet. If Exarch’s decently emotionally intelligent but still obtuse at times, Vivi’s a tier or two above him, he’s not a stranger to manipulation, he registers it being used on him, and doesn’t hesitate to use it too when it suits his fancy. He's quite good at people-ing. Emet, though, Emet’s THE emotional intelligence personified. He’s had literal thousands of years to practice, he leaves everyone else in the dust in this regard. It’s daunting but so exciting to write him, I hope to do him justice.

Let’s just talk.

𝓛𝓮𝓽’𝓼 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓴.

Mark this moment, remember this line for meme value. If these last words aren't famous yet, they WILL become that when we see what they talk their way into <w<

Yes I'm going all in on tragic irony of Emet's situation.

Accidental Emet rp, with the hunching over and all. Or maybe Vivi already unwittingly mirrors him. Or maybe he always did- *kicked and dumped in the trash bin*

Man. I'm guilty of enjoying drawing Vivi in genuine distress. He’s so fun when he’s agitated.

Hidden Angst Time! It's all hehe haha until you realize that this might be a product of the hectic wol lifestyle forcing him to speedrun his emotions like this. Either speedrun, or be left with no opportunity to process them at all.

Also, the sandwiches! The framing’s deliberate, they’re on the foreground all the time, and Vivi only notices them in the very last panel.

I! Love! This! Face!!!!!! A rare neutral, relaxed, thoughtful face, he isn't performing for anyone here.

Nevermind Ardbert getting brutally ignored here x’D

The fact that a guy that Vivi had briefly considered as partner material shut himself away in the Crystal Tower for what could be the rest of his life has stuck with Vivi for good. Or should I say for bad. He might not necessarily care about ARRRaha, still it upsets him that he kissed someone who practically killed himself some days later.

I recently talked a lil more about the Bitchless Liar. This’s how Vivi remembers him forever, take it or leave it. But hey, this cool Exarch guy has big balls probably <- in-universe hc \o/

This episode taught me to draw BREAD.

Even though Exarch’s been nothing but sweet so far, one thing’s to acknowledge a fact with your brain, another thing’s to wrestle with your trauma and paranoia that have all rights to exist and fester. Ever since HW Vivi doesn’t accept food and drinks from anyone except the few trusted sources. This isn’t really covered in this episode, but hopefully hinted at just enough.

He takes a leap of faith. Or maybe he’s simply sick and tired of living Like This. Maybe sandwiches kill him, and he doesn’t really mind. And, when they don’t, he goes through a visible shift in attitude towards Exarch, as we’re able to see in the following episodes.

This’s all I’ve got for now, thanks for reading till the end~

[thesunwillart]

do you have any art that youve redrawn over the years? id love to see your improvement!!

hi!! there's been a few pieces that i've either redrawn or just revisited the sketches after a year or two! i've hunted down a few here...

1 - pride alex [1st, 2nd] is probably the Most Redraw i've done, same pose and a few years apart. but it was so nice to see how my art's improved!

2 - [wash away your fear character line up] so i never posted the original sketch of these, but i had planned to do this character line up back a year ago, but i was really struggling art-wise and also just in personal life, so it was gathering dust after i gave up on it. i just decided to pick it up again the other day and redo it all!! and im SOOO happy i did. really makes me all warm to be able to redo them.

i'll put the others under a read more cuz this is. long LOL

3 - one of my first FIRST on purpose redraws! these are me and my friend's ocs Chrissy & Arcturus, and i had drawn them every year for mermay until 2020... i think there's a sketch laying around somewhere lol (I got my first digital tablet in 2018 awww)

4 - [bounty hunter siblings] do oc redesigns count? im gonna say they do. i remember i just didnt know what i wanted to draw but i wanted to draw SOMETHING in oct 2021, so i pulled out these old star wars ocs lol

5 - [what the water gave me] another case of "i dont know what i want to draw so im gonna revisit an old sketch" this time the old guard themed lol i couldnt figure out how to do the water so i gave up on it at first

6 - [kiss one, kiss two] back in 2020/2021 i was drawing so much that i felt like my style was changing rapidly (and i guess improving as well with the practice!) so i felt like the redraw a month later really had improvements!! theyre so cute

7 - [spidersona 1, redesign] another oc redesign! im really happy with how they came out!! very "first homemade suit -> official suit" vibes from these lol

but yeah!! that's the ones i found this time :D i hope u enjoyed this trip down memory lane! there's actually a small pile of pieces i want to do legit redraws for... i'll get around to them on a rainy day lol. also ty for the ask <3!

[maiji]

[images: First three pages of a comic drawn in a digital ink-brush style with greyscale shading.]

fight / flight: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Alt text, full transcript and commentary continue below the cut.

A YYH North Bound story. This is "fight / flight" part 3 of 5 parts. This takes place after I Heard A Cicada Cry and Survive.

Content warning: Violence, blood, people fighting with swords.

[images: Remaining seven pages of comic.]

[page 16] *Hokushin slowly stands up, facing Otake, looking as if he’s in a daze. Then the look in his eyes changes.*

[page 17] *Hokushin’s arms both extend rapidly, one arm whipping out to grab his sword. Otake realizes that Hokushin's aiming for Otake's fallen sword with his opposite arm and quickly pounces for it before Hokushin’s other arm can reach it. Closeup of Hokushin’s feet as he dashes towards Otake.*

[page 18] *Hokushin screaming and charging at Otake as the latter blocks the attack*

[page 19] *Hokushin continuing to scream and cry while slashing viciously at Otake, who is now struggling to parry the blows.* Hokushin: How could you?! How could you?? Of all the humans!! Out of all the humans in this godforsaken world!!

[page 20] *Flashbacks of Semimaru: playing his biwa; smiling and pointing out a frog on a lilypad; hand reaching out to touch Hokushin’s face before they parted; walking off into the crowd at Ausaka Barrier.* Hokushin: (Semimaru…) …how could you…

[page 21] *Otake, who is taking a beating, loses control of his sword and it flies into the air spinning. In desperation he grabs his energy bracer again for one more power up, and shoots out another energy attack that slams Hokushin from the side, snapping his head/neck with great force.*

[page 22] *Hokushin is slammed face first to the ground. Otake has retrieved his sword and stands, panting. Hokushin has a flashback of him Semimaru walking through blossoms falling from the trees* Hokushin: (Live happily... Those few days were the happiest I had ever known. I have no desire for any more.) *He closes his eyes.* Otaku, raising his sword in a final attack: Ha!

[page 23] *A new figure with long flowing hair and a white ribbon wrapped around the forehead blocks Otake’s sword with a naginata.*

[page 24] *Powerful spirit energy emanates from the new warrior like a flame.* Otake: (Tomoe Gozen…!! Her spirit energy is as strong as the reports say…!)

[page 25] *Otake and Tomoe Gozen have an unblinking staredown - but Otake, with blood running down his face, is clearly not in the best of shape and is perturbed. He lowers his weapon.* Otake: …Have you any idea what you’re dealing with? Tomoe, adjusting her naginata stance: I care not. Any who seek to harm my lord and his men stand in the way of my blade.

…

Tomoe Gozen to Hokushin’s rescue yaaaaah!!! 

Yeaaaahhh I did it!! This is the scene I did test panel drawings for ~2 years ago (2021)! That sure makes the ~half a year it took to get this out since Part 2 feel a little shorter, haha. Part 3 was actually supposed to be the "short" part, but somehow it ended up being 10 pages and thus more pages than each of the previous 2 parts (8 and 7 pages, respectively). This is because action is hard to panel. I am very proud of myself for screaming and crying getting all the way through this; still a lot to improve on but I learned a lot and it is definitely not something I could have drawn back when I first started working on North Bound in 2017 (?! time flies). 

Semimaru pointing at the frog in the pond is supposed to be a cute moment from their travels for Hokushin to remember, and is a reference to Basho’s famous haiku. Except that's just a reference for us because this story takes place in the late Heian/early Kamakura period and Basho won't be born for another several hundred years (he lived during the Edo period) so it’s totally anachronistic. But so are rokurokubi anyways.

Please do not worry about Hokushin's neck on page 21, remember he's a rokurokubi so his neck can stretch further. Still hurts though. (And even with a boost from an artifact, Otake's blow was nowhere near as powerful as Yusuke's, since that one made Hokushin's neck twist several times.)

Japanese history buffs, kindly ignore the fact that due to Semimaru being dated to early Heian era and Kiso Yoshinaka and Tomoe Gozen living during the Genpei Wars it is very likely that at this point, even if Otake didn’t kill Semimaru, he would be dead regardless because normal human lifespans and all. But it’s ultimately the principle of the matter that he didn’t get to live out a peaceful life and was instead massacred by Otake. And who am I to not take advantage of creative license for the convenience of storytelling to compress time and whatever history anyways? And we don’t really know a lot of details about Semimaru anyways, and anyways this is a fanwork being done in spare time. Anyways anyways, thank you for your patience and understanding.

I am working on another behind the scenes post to show the progress from thumbs to page sketches, will link here when it’s up!

Update: Here's the behind the scenes!

[beaktube]

here’s that follow up I mentioned in the vod post. I initially thought of attaching it to that post under a read more, but it got long and seemed weird to have all this under a streaming vod.

I will put a read more here though since it does get long.

It seemed a lot of this discussion regarding the vtuber community and why it is so heavily dominated by one style boiled down to a lack of confidence or self esteem regarding their own abilities. In a sense it seems like the general consensus is “I do not have the confidence in my skills to make my own avatar, therefore I will conform to what is offered that does not require using my own skills.” Couple that with a fear of not being accepted/followed due to what they stream, and this turns into a mental health clusterfuck. This shit is like being stuck in high school forever and it cannot be good for anyone.

So for me, not liking anime in this hobby is less not liking the style superficially, but more the heavy implications behind it.

I personally find it difficult to understand since when dealing with art communities/art in general, if I thought I was lacking, I worked to improve- mainly since if I worked with something that was a base or doll maker (we did not have vroid or vtubing back in the early 00′s, so this is my closest approximation), it was made very clear to me that it was not something I created myself, but something that I used a program/game made by someone else to make. I looked at books, I looked at the art other people made- especially professionals, now I look at any tutorials and resources I can get my hands on to learn whatever skill I’m pursuing.

But at the same time, if someone said what I made with my own skills was crap or bad, I did not tend to fold over and give up. Rebuffing was as simple as saying “well fuck you too” and carrying on.

On twitch it’s even easier to avoid that kind of feedback because of how much security there is over chat. For instance if I want, I can change chat so it becomes impossible to chat in, due to the amount of investment required in order to use the chatbox. I could layer up using 3-month followers only, subs only, etc. And essentially that would babygate the chat so hard it would be as if I turned it off.

So with this knowledge, all I can figure is that it’s just the idea of someone looking in, not liking what is there, and leaving which is fueling this insecurity. In which case who cares, how many times have you surfed channels on TV, on twitch, youtube, etc. and not stuck around? Do you think they get upset over it? No! They just keep going, because most of the time, they just want a place to put what they’re working on- followers are not their main concern. In the case of TV, it’s a company churning out shows. They have a whole team they work with, for figuring out ratings, scripts, editing, audience appeal, etc. So while they do want eyes on their show, their risk is usually well calculated and for a reason.

Individuals that are just after fame/numbers usually do not last very long for a reason. It’s no longer about an interest or improvement or enjoying what is being made, it’s about meeting a quota. If they don’t meet it fast enough they give up, or the stress of it will lead to burn out.

Of course I come from using streaming as a way to focus on my work so I don’t get distracted (hah, and look how that turned out!), so all of these complexities regarding amassing followers, what is being streamed, etc. is weird. The nature of having to churn out stuff rapidly is weird, and reeks of social media culture- specifically twitter. This generation is the only one that is under stress to be constantly making something to sell, and it is unhealthy, I think it also has a big impact on people that just want to do things as a hobby- no profit involved. Before the 2010′s onward, it was normal to have large gaps between finishing and showing work as a single person, whether that is writing, drawing, animating, etc.

If this is also what is keeping people from learning a new skill, again, working on their own fears and learning to place boundaries is incredibly important. As well, finding others that want to improve and to teach others is great. They’re around other individuals that are after the same thing, and presumably can play off each other, along with learning from those that want to see others improve. it’s the reason why places like ConceptArt.org were so important for those wanting to learn creative skills before they were taken offline.

Going off of this discussion on stream, this whole problem with conformity would cease if vtubers would stop being scared of what other people thought and just jumped into learning a new skill- drawing, modeling, whatever. But to do that it’s going to take real work to get over those fears first, and that is what should be focused on instead of the numbers game.

so, tl:dr:

Just learn to say “fuck it.”, jump, and own whatever happens. It’s okay to learn.

[echoalyssa]

Can I have a Asher Adams smut request with a biracial reader and it’s her first time for her birthday if you can do that

Asher is behind you, you’re sitting between his legs, eyes closed. His fingers are nimbly moving through your hair. Just before the two of you had started dating, the two of you had gone to a fair. One of the vendors was trying to do you hair, but they had used a brush, which resulted in a giant frizzy mess.

Asher watched you run off and had followed you. He helped water down your ruined hair. From then on he had made a point to learn about hair care for your hair type.

From castor oil to the styling of your edges to braids. And then shortly after you had started dating, he witnessed you braiding your hair. He had remarked that it seemed difficult, to braid your own hair. And from there on out you taught him. Which led to this moment…

Asher cornrowing your hair on your birthday. He’d been practicing on you and a wig he’d acquired and the birthday surprise was his best attempt.

His touch is gentle, warm, comforting. He’s gentle, always so gentle. “All done baby.” He murmurs.

His lips brush your neck and you sigh softly. In response, he keeps going, moving his lips lower, adding a little more pressure. You want to see his efforts but you’re distracted by him.

“Kiss me, Ash.”

You turn around, moving to straddle his legs. Asher’s fingers wrap around your hips and his lips press into yours.

The kiss is slow but firm. As always, Asher follows your lead. Never making any sudden movements.

“I love you.” He murmurs.

You can’t suppress the giggle and the kiss breaks so he can look at you quizzically. Simultaneously the two of you look down.

“I can feel it Ash.”

Normally he’ll just ignore it or with your permission he’ll touch you or himself but nothing intense.

There’s a feeling in your breast. You and Asher had spent months as a couple, and even longer before that as best friends.

Your hips roll over the tent in his pants and his eyes go wide. His upper teeth press into his bottom lip.

A nervousness rolled through you, that he wont like it, wont be pleased, that you aren’t white enough. So instead of speaking you press your lips to his. He responds enthusiastically, moaning softly into your kiss.

You’ve always been comfortable with him and that doesn’t change now. You’ve never had sex before though you and Asher had messed around a bit before.

You peel off one of his hands off of your hip, whilst still kissing him, and work his hand under your shirt, urging him to rest it atop your breast.

If not your imagination, you can feel him physically twitch under you. He withdraws his hand from beneath your shirt only to rip his shirt up, over, and off. Asher replaces his hand eagerly.

“Mine too.” You murmur, and his eyes widen. He must see conviction in your eyes because he does as you ask.

“Wow…”

And then Asher is dipping his head and just above the cup of your bra you feel his lips. Your eyelids flutter closed, your head bending so you can wrap your lips around his earlobe.

His teeth graze your skin and then he begins to suck. He’s leaving a hickey on your neck.

When he pulls off, he runs his tongue over the mark.

“I love you.”

“I’m ready.”

His head cocks in confusion until he realizes. You get up and off of him and push your sweatpants down, leaving you only in your underwear. His comes next, and even though he’s a tad sheep-shocked still he doesn’t resist. Your fingers cup him over his boxers and your boyfriend struggles to fight down his moan.

He moves you so that youre on your back and then he sinks down, hooking his arms around your legs. Your body tenses in nervous anticipation.

“Is this okay? Do you want this?”

You nod, almost frantically and it seems like eons before he finally removes your underwear. Finally his lips land on you. Your head falls back against the pillows.

“Oh Asher.”

His tongue circles your clit and its not long before you’re grasping at the covers. Asher does something that surprises you, he pushes a singular finger into your core. It’s different from a tampon, much much better.

His pace is steady, his eyes constantly searching your face to make sure that you’re okay with what he’s doing.

At your core theres a euphoric feeling building.

“A-a-ash oh my…”

He seems to smirk up at you, never breaking his rhythm. It’s like you fall off of a cliff. Your body tenses up, and then it rapidly releases. You cry out your boyfriend name as pure euphoria engulfs your body.

He works your though it and then emerges, his mouth and chin glistening with your release.

When your mind finally allows you to think you pull him up, kiss him, and say, “I’m ready.”

He kisses you as he rolls the condom on. “Are you sure?”

The way you buck your hips up into him is all that he needs to know. You know that it’ll hurt initially, that you might bleed. But you want this, more than anything. Right now.

The tip of his length presses against your entrance. He’s slow with working himself into you, his brow furrowed in concentration.

It burns and you shut your eyes involuntarily, refusing to make a sound. Asher seems to know that going in spurts would only prolong the pain.

In no time hes settled flush against you. You nod firmly and Asher pulls out almost fully and sinks back into you.

You moan loudly and Asher groans.

“Y-you’re so tight a-and warm, and wet…”

He picks a slow rhythm with his thrusts, kissing you and whispering sweet nothings to you. The pain fades to pleasure and its not long before that feeling begins to build again.

“Oh Ash!”

He responds with a stuttering, “i-i’m-“

Asher presses a finger to your clit, drawing figure eights this time.

Your boyfriend finishes first, with a string of expletives mixed with your name.

You cant stop the feeling, this is more than you ever imagined or dreamed of. Normally girls say it takes awhile for them to reach it but oh. Oh. OH.

Once again you tense and then you core flutters and rapidly releases and clenches up again. Your vision blots out and you claw at your boyfriends back. It’s long, it doesn’t seem to end.

He keeps you close until you finish your orgasm, and when youre both calmer he pulls you into his chest.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” He whispers.

[fluffi]

MY DETENTION BUDDY :: JAY

pairing: jay x gn!reader genre: fluff, badboy!jay, highschool!au, friends-enemies-lovers!au word count: 2k event: for @lovesick-net​​ and (early) jay day 200421 <3 author’s note: simple little one-shot for jay’s birthday (i wont be uploading anything for his actual birthday). i had to speedrun this fic because i kept changing the plot and this hasnt been proofread twice (unlike my other fics) T-T i hope it’ll still work out. warnings: (reader makes one bad decision)

Ring...ring...ring...ring..ring…

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring

Ringringringringiringringringring.

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRRI-SLAM!

The alarm clock stopped its boisterous wailing

10 more minutes. I don’t have to style my hair today.

Thirty minutes passed.

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRI- SLAM!

Ugh. I’ll just miss assembly.

RIRIRIIRRIRIRI-

This time, the ringing stopped before he could slam his hand over the alarm clock.

“Jongseong, do you not have school today?” Jay could only make out a bush of black that stood above him as he sat up, dazed and drowsy.

“Yeah, I do. I’m about to get ready. Why?”

“It’s 9 am! You should be at school! At this point, you don’t even have to go anymore.” His mother huffed in disappointment.

It was an exaggeration, but she had a point. School started at eight in the morning. It was already an hour later but he was still sitting in bed.

“I’ll get ready now. 10 minutes. Good to go.” He shooed his mom away, already running to the bathroom to wash up.

“I’m leaving now Jay. You know darn well that I have an important meeting today and I can’t miss it just for you to not get a tardy. Heck, you’re already late! You’re-”

“Mom! I can’t walk to school! It takes too long.” Jay whined as he brushed his teeth, his muffled voice interrupting his mother’s speech.

“Young man, stop interrupting me. I told you a week ago about today’s event and it’s not my fault that my oldest son can’t take care of himself. You’re going to have to take another mode of transport, you’re old enough to deal with this yourself!” With that, his mother stormed out of his room, her feet obnoxiously thumping on the floor.

“I’m also your only son...” Jay muttered. 

Of all days, why did she have to have her meeting today? Monthly evaluations aren’t that important. Dangit, I should’ve been taught how to drive. Jay returned to his rapid multitasking, grabbing his school uniform while washing his face. He didn’t even look twice,

After taking the quickest shower he had ever taken in his entire life and shoving all of his essential (what he determined as essential, at least) belongings into his bag, he opened to door and dashed outside only to be met with…

Rain.

Rain everywhere. Drenching the front yard’s perfectly tended flower garden and creating heaps of watery mud. It was pouring at 9.15 am. There was thunder and occasional flashes of light zooming through the clouds. The city was in shambles.

Not like, shamble, shambles. It was shambles in Jay’s opinion as he groaned and stomped his way through the rain.

Screw school. Screw this stupid rain, screw my alarm clock, screw this-

“Dude, why are you running in the rain? You’re soaked. Are you heading to school?” A pink-haired boy in a red Ferrari shouted from across the street.

Jay sighed in relief, immediately running across the road to said Ferrari. “Choi Yeonjun. You are a life-saver. Could I get a ride real quick? I’ll pay back for engine fees and for soaking the inside of your Ferrari with rainwater.”

“Hop right in, and don’t worry about returning. Let’s have some fun with this baby.” Yeonjun smirked and revved the engine, swerving past cars and buildings like it was a little RPG game.

At this rate, I’ll make it to school in no time.

“Dude, I’m so sorry. I guess you have to walk.”

Just as he thought things were taking a better turn, Yeonjun decides to show off his new driving skills and zooms through roads at a rapid speed, so fast that he crashed the car by a tree. It was a miracle that both of them didn’t get hurt but as far as Jay was concerned, he could worry about that some other time. This was just slowing him down on his long and tedious journey towards his form of hell.

On the bright side, the rain had stopped and the sunshine was back as if nothing had happened.

“I’ll get going to school.” Jay internally groaned and started sprinting in the direction of his school.

“Hey, at least I helped you get closer to school! Didn’t I?” Yeonjun shouted from behind and coyly smiled.

Such a boastful punk, Jay thought. “Whatever, bro!” He turned back and gave his older friend a quick wave before dashing off.

“Park Jongseong! You’re late...again.”

“I’m aware.” Jay didn’t spare his English teacher an eye and slung his backpack over the chair, about to take a seat.

“Stop giving me attitude, I’m your teacher.Why are you tardy for the fourth time this month?”

“Alarm clock.”

“Alarm clock what? Are you afraid to speak up? I don’t see you acting like this in the hallways.”

Jay looked down at his feet and sighed before side-eyeing his teacher. “Overslept, okay? Sir if you could just let me off the hook you would be able to proceed with your Shakespeare nonsense.”

The entire class snickered. It was no secret that Jay loathed Mr. Jung, the English teacher. Who didn’t? Mr. Jung treated every student in school like they were incapable toddlers and it was a wonder that anyone would dare to stand up to his stupid remarks. Jay’s carefree attitude towards his horrible teachers was one of the reasons why he earned so many fangirls.

Not like you were one, of course. You watched as he pulled his chair out and sat next to you out of the three other vacant seats at the back of the class.

Mr. Jung rolled his eyes and continued writing on the blackboard. “Also, Jongseong,” he added, “you’re wearing your school shirt the wrong way round. See you in detention for your tardiness.”

A few of the girls in a few seats in front of him whispered rapidly, although whispering didn’t stop Jay from finding out about their gossip.

“Lol! So much for being the bad boy of our grade. He looks like a wreck today.”

“I know right? I wonder what the other fangirls will think of this. Should we send the pictures to the fan club?”

The second girl giggled. “Yeah, duh. Name it jay-park-wreck-images.”

So much for my reputation. Jay could only roll his eyes as he pulled out his supplies, ignoring the camera clicks coming from the seats in front of him.

“Oh, yay. At least I’ll have a detention buddy now.”

Jay eyed you up and down like your statement was some sort of monstrosity. “Detention? You, detention? Pfft.” He laughed.

“Yeah, Jay. Me, detention. Why are you so happy about it? Glad to be stuck with another girl?”

“What, no-no. You just...don’t seem like the type to be in detention. How’d you get it?”

“This..may be kind of embarrassing, but...” You turned to the side and Jay gasped.

On the sleeve of your uniform was a...rabbit? It wasn’t too obvious as to what the marker doodle was but it was apparent that you had intentionally spent time to draw on it.

“Look, I was bored in assembly this morning and found a spare marker in my pocket! Don’t judge, we all know how bad assembly can be.” You blurted just as Jay was about to ask why you had done what you did.

“You could’ve just drawn on your hand or done something else with the marker.” Jay sighed and shook his head at your dumb decision.

“I was out of my mind, okay? Ugh, Assembly always drives me nuts. I got called out for for the horrendous ink bleed when Mr. Jung saw as I walked into the classroom. He said it ‘didn’t follow school guidelines’.”

“For once, I agree with Mr. Jung. It was a stupid choice, you know? If you didn’t draw on your uniform then you wouldn’t have to go to detention now.”

“Jay Park, the bad boy of school, is telling me to be a rule abider. Biggest twist of the century.” You rolled your eyes.

Jay frowned and turned back at you, losing that little spark in his eyes that he once kept. “I’m not a bad boy you know? I just don’t like the system in place here.”

“As if anyone is going to believe that. Go hang out with another girl of yours. I’m not here to be your toy.”

“People like you are the reason why everyone thinks I’m a bad person. I thought you were different, you know?”

You had been preoccupied with taking notes for class, but now you looked at him with squinted eyes. “Well, I am different. Different as In someone who doesn’t fall for your useless charms. Go suck up to your fangirls or something.”

Jay rolled his eyes and scooted away from you. He thought he had been lucky to meet you, but he guessed not.

You always do this, you idiot. You were so close to making a new friend.

You put your hands in your head and side-eyed Jay, who seemed to be struggling as Mr. Jung blurted out an entire unit’s summary.

The boy hadn’t brought any stationery and was definitely on the wrong page of the textbook. You figured that he was this disheveled from his absolute lack of planning but you still felt bad.

His hair was a mess, it was still damp from the rain before. If only you could help him style it…

Why do I want to touch his hair? That’s weird and gross.

You were so occupied with thinking about Jay that you realized that he was still struggling in class.

Maybe you could make things better.

“I’m sorry.”

Jay was struggling to find the page you guys were on for class when a pencil blocked his view.

“What do you want?” He said as he tried to look past your pencil swinging.

“It’s a pencil for you since I realized that your table is practically empty and you’re going to need something to take notes with for later. Also, it’s page 153, not 53.” You leaned over to help him flip the pages.

“Oh, that makes so much more sense. I was wondering why we were relearning unit 3 when finals aren’t even near yet.”

You raised your eyebrows, looking up at a relieved Jay. “So you do pay attention in class.”

“Of course I do! I’m a student. You should stop using that stereotype on me.” Jay frowned and a tinge of disappointment shadowed his face.

“Right, I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying to work on it, it’s rumors and assumptions that have built up over the past few years and I understand that it shouldn’t get in the way of our friendship.”

“Friendship? We have a friendship?” Jay chuckled and cocked an eyebrow up, teasing you.

Maybe it was that eyebrow slit or the weird tension that was building up between the both of you. You felt your face heat up. “I mean- yeah, friendship. Are we not friends?”

“I don’t know, hun. I thought we were something more.”

“Um...best...friends?”

It was perfect timing as the bell rang and you immediately started packing things into your bag, eyes glued to the clock instead of the amused boy next to you.

Jay laughed, running his hands through his blonde locks and watching as you started running out of class, your eyes occasionally looking back at him to see if he was still staring at you.

“See you in detention!” He called, drawing the attention of your classmates.

Jay Park needs to learn how to shut his mouth. Everyone was now staring at you and you were flustered, embarrassed, shocked, and confused. The weird mix of emotions were driving you nuts. All you could muster was a little nod and you dashed out of there as fast as you could.

“Today we’re going to learn about Murphy’s Law. It is where anything that can go wrong will go wrong.”

“But everything that can work, will work.” Jay raised his hand and added, sparing a glance at you jotting notes in the back of the classroom, oblivious to his reference towards you.

“You’re right Jay. Murphy’s Law works both ways. Reversing it is considered part of science…”

Today morning was a storm (figuratively and literally) and everything seemed to be going wrong for Jay. Murphy’s Law prevails. but there’s always a rainbow after the storm. You were his rainbow and his lucky charm.

2021 © fluffi

[descendantofthesparrow]

Encore - Part of your world - Harry Hook x Reader - Part 25 - The Wedding - FINALE

The Wedding

=

You took a deep breath, staring at the calendar on your apartment wall. A very particular date circled in red

May 22nd - Wedding day~!

Today was the day…you would be getting married to Harry Hook, the love of your life. You squealed and jumped around your room, eyes catching onto your dress hanging off your door. You giggled to yourself and grabbed the dress, holding it to your chest and dancing around your room, closing your eyes and imagining Harry dancing along with you as you had your first dance as husband and wife.

“Someone’s excited~” you stopped and turned to face your door, seeing your aunt, (BFF name), Jazzy, Lily, and Emma standing there, fond smiles on their faces. Tonks stepped into the room and pulled you into a hug, your friends joining it soon after “You ready for today?” Tonks asked, smiling as you nodded against her rapidly, the girls pulling back and moving around the room to grab your makeup and other things you would need today, like your shoes, dress, snack bag, and vows.

You glanced at the clock, the time reading 10 am. The wedding started at 4 so you had a good 6 hours before everything happened. But everything you needed that wasn’t at your apartment was in the captain's quarters on your new ship, Harry was getting ready in a different cabin to prevent the ‘seeing the bride before the wedding’ thing.

“We all ready?” your friends and aunt nodded, their necklaces, which had been charmed by Uma to temporarily have the same properties as your necklace, shining for a moment. “Then let's go”

You took your key and stuck it into your doorknob's lock, turning it and opening the portal. You opened the door and stepped through, the girls following after you a moment later.

Tonks gasped a bit setting down the cake she had been holding on the table and spinning around “Wow~!! This-this is yours!?” you beamed and nodded, taking the dress from Jazzy and hanging it off the closet door.

As your friends admired the room and talked amongst each other, Uma stepped into the room, sharing a smile with you and turning to talk with Tonks, gesturing towards the cake.

Tonks nodded and Uma turned back towards the door, calling for Gil, who entered a moment later and took the cake. Not before greeting you cheerfully though. You laughed to yourself and looked at Uma, she already had her teal dress on, her hair curled to perfection and make-up on point, her usual shell necklace seeming to shine with polish.

“You ready girl?” Uma asked, walking up to you and tossing her arm over your shoulder, smirking as you nodded rapidly.

“Hell yeah, I've been waiting for this day for almost a year~” you hummed, unable to keep the smile off your face. “My cheeks hurt from smiling so much but I can't stop!” Uma chuckled, rubbing your shoulder and nodding towards the door.

“Harry’s been a nervous wreck all morning, he’s worried somethings gonna go wrong in preventing him marrying you today, but I shoved a paper bag in his hand and told him to breath, Ben and Harriet are with him right now to prevent him from trying to see you early and any nervous breakdown stuff” you laughed a bit as Uma’s long explanation and shook your head.

“That’s adorable” you chuckled, opening your arms a bit as CJ and smee twins ran into the room, CJ slamming into your side as the twins latched to your legs and hips. “Hello you three, what's up?”

CJ opened her mouth in an attempt to speak when Harriet yelled her name from outside the room. CJ pouted and squeezed your waist, dragging her feet as she walked back out to the main deck.

“Was-was that CJ??” Emma asked, stepping towards you and staring wide-eyed at the door where CJ had gone through “She looks so different than the animated show”

“Everyone does, but didn’t you see her yesterday at the rehearsal?” Emma shrugged and you laughed, patting the Smee twins back and nodding at the small table that had been set up with multiple chairs “You two sit down while we get ready, you’ll have to leave when we get dressed though” they nodded and raced to sit down, Uma taking your snack bag and grabbing some (f/s) for them, setting it down to distract them as Uma and Jazzy sat you down at the vanity and started to work on your hair and makeup, your aunt checking over the dress and making sure it was clean and ready to wear.

You attempted to turn to look at the door as Evie entered but Uma turned you forward again “Don’t move, I don’t wanna stab you with bobby pins” she muttered, continuing to mess with your hair to get it into the style you had chosen for your wedding.

“Okay okay” you laughed, looking at Evie through the mirror as she appeared behind Uma, smiling at your reflection. “Hi Evie~”

“Hi (y/n)~” she sang back, going to work on your hair to help Uma as Jazzy got your makeup ready to use “You ready for today?”

“As I'll ever be” nerves had started to buzz, sending butterflies throughout your body “I just want to be married to him already, and now I gotta wait like six hours to say ‘I do” Evie and Uma laughed, Evie patting your shoulders gently.

“I’m sure the hours will go by quickly, and before you put on your dress you need to look at the main deck décor, Harry went to go look at the reception hall so he’ll be off-ship for a small bit.” You nodded gently against Uma’s amble fingers, pinning your hair and styling expertly.

“Gil took the cake to the reception hall too, so everything is set up there, FG will be here about two hours before the ceremony, guests will arrive about an hour before and then~” Evie leaned down, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and pressing her cheek into yours “You’re married to Harry~”

“I’m gonna be honest, I never thought I’d see the day” Uma laughed, smirking as you and Evie looked at her with raised brows “to see Harry get married, he’s always been someone that everyone thought he would grow up without anyone, too rowdy, too rough, too wild spirited to be ‘tied down to anyone” Umas smile turned sad “then again, we all thought love was something worthless, weak…I’m glad you came into our lives (y/n), you taught us, especially Harry, that love is a strength, and one of the greatest things a person can know” you sniffed, quickly rubbing away the tears burning at your eyes and twisting around in your seat to hug Uma tightly.

“Aww” your friends, aunt, and Evie cooed, turning away as Uma gave them a look. You squeezed Uma and pulled back, giving her a watery smile.

“Thank you” you whispered, laughing as Uma wiped away the tear rolling down your cheek.

“No, thank you”  Uma patted your head and twisted you back around “Okay, enough sappy shit let's get you ready to get married to Harry!”

“Hey, that rhymed!” Emma cheered,  setting up mirrors on the table for the bridesmaids to get their hair and make-up ready.

“Let's do this!” you laughed as the girls cheered and got to work, putting on make-up and doing their hair as Uma continued to get you ready.

-

“Harry, breathe” Harry glared at Harriet as he paced around the cabin he had been in for the past hour, (y/n) was in the captain's quarters, getting ready for their wedding and all he wanted to do was burst in there and smother her in affection.

But no one would let him as apparently, seeing the bride before the official reveal meant bad luck, and Harry didn’t want any of that for their marriage. “Harry really” Ben grabbed Harry's shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile “you have nothing to be nervous about, Uma made sure the weather will be perfect the entire day, (y/n) loves you to death, you love her to death, everything is ready. This day is going to go great” Harry took a couple of deep breaths and slowly nodded, giving Ben a small smirk.

“Thanks, beasty boy” he mumbled, rolling his neck and stepping in front of the standing mirror, grabbing his cravat and tying it around his neck, Harriet and Ben talking in the background. He smoothed down the front of his black with red trim vest, corrected his sleeve cuffs, and took another deep breath.

He glanced at the clock, closing his eyes a bit and groaning.

12 pm.

Four hours left.

-

Dizzy and Celia rocked on their heels, waiting inside the captain's quarters as the ceremony drew closer. “Okay, guys!” Evie clapped her hands, drawing the attention of the bridesmaids and groomsmen/best maid. “You know the order and drill, Emma you'll walk out with Jay, Carlos with Jazzy, Ben with Lily, Gil with (BFF name), Harriet with Uma, and CJ you’ll be walking with the twins! Celia, Dizzy!” the two looked directly at Evie “You’ll be walking out just before (y/n) and Tonks, laying the petals on the pathway towards Harry before (y/n) takes her walk, okay?” they both nodded, Celia giving Evie a thumbs up. “Awesome~ okay!!! It's time~!! (y/n)-oh, my goodness~!!”

Everyone gasped and went silent as you stepped out from behind the changing screen in the corner of the room, the dress had been just as beautiful as when you last put it on, but now it was joined by your veil that gently flowed behind your head down to your waist, your hair elegantly pulled into (preferred hairstyle for wedding stuff), your face was painted with light yet alluring makeup, lips a softer red than your natural lips and shimmery (e/s/c) accenting your eyes with a curling wing finishing it off.

“Oh, my, evil” Uma gasped holding her hands to her chest as she stared at you wide-eyed, Evie walking up to you and looking over your dress to check for any makeup stains. “You look amazing (y/n)!”

“Thank you” you whispered, trying to keep the tears from ruining your make-up, laughing as Evie came to the rescue with her handkerchief. “Thank you” Evie smiled at you, pulling back and looking towards the door as the music began to play.

“Okay! It's go time! Go go go!” the groomsmen and bridesmaids all got into a line, Evie opening the door and letting them through, smiling as she spotted Harry staring directly at her, adjusting his shirt collar slightly as the wedding party made their way down the isle.

CJ grabbed onto the twins, one on each side of her as she walked out next. Evie smiled at you one last time and walked out of the room, quickly going to sit down with Mal and Jane as Celia and Dizzy skipped out into the isle, laying down the petals as a pathway for you to Harry.

Mal nodded at Harry to Evie, Evie cooing as she saw Harry's teary eyes filled with excitement and nervousness. “So cute” Evie whispered, gasping and turning as the wedding march began to play, the captains quarters door opening, and Evie heard Harry’s breath stop as you and your aunt stepped out.

The sun that was beginning to set illuminated you beautifully, your face set in a soft watery smile as you looked to Harry, who was crying. He wiped the tears streaming down his face, a bright smile on his lips as he looked at you. Harriet bumped his arm and handed him a tissue, Harry quickly drying his face and tossing it back at her.

Tonks kissed your cheek and held out your hand to Harry, who stepped towards you and eagerly took it, drawing you closer to him and taking a deep breath “Yeh…yeh look beautiful” Harry whispered, taking your other hand as you handed your bouquet to Uma.

“Thank you, you look very handsome” you whispered back, lifting one of your hands to rub your thumb against the red fabric of his black and red tailcoat. And it was the truth, Harry laughed a bit and wiped another tear off his cheek, FG smiling brightly as you both turned to her.

“Are we ready?” she asked gently, nodding as you and Harry looked at each other softly “Then let's begin” FG opened her book and smiled at the crowd, her eyes sparkling with Joy “Today we celebrate the union of (y/n) (l/n) and Harry Hook, on behalf of the bride and groom, thank you for joining us. By your presence, you celebrate with them the love they have discovered in each other, and you support their decision to commit themselves to a lifelong relationship.

Marriage is a bond to be entered into only after considerable thought and reflection. By making this commitment today, (y/n) and Harry’s relationship will become stronger, better, and deeper.

Today, (y/n) and Harry demonstrate their devotion to each other by dedicating themselves to a life together and they show their respect for each other. By setting forth to honor the vows they have created today, their lives, which began on separate paths, will be joined as one.”

You could feel the tears burn in your eyes as FG spoke, laughing quietly as Harry blinked away his own tears, hands clutching tightly onto yours. You looked to the side a bit, feeling another pair of eyes on you, and smiled as you saw Persephone and Hades, sitting at the back and watching the wedding. She had never quite explained why she was so invested in your relationship, but you never really bothered to question it either, just happy to be with Harry.

“Deep abiding affection, the magical and compelling shared impulse that makes us seek each other’s company, is among the greatest gifts of the human experience.” FG’s voice came back into focus as you looked back at Harry, reaching up and cupping his cheek as tears continued to streak down his face, wiping them away with your thumb, you heard some of the crowd coo as you did so, Harriet once again offering a tissue.

“Any of us who has been fortunate enough to find and express the kind of loving devotion that we are celebrating here today knows that it is an awesome and beautiful thing.

At this time, I would like to share 3 suggestions with the both of you:

My first suggestion is this:

Be constantly grateful for this precious person who has chosen to make a life with you.

My second suggestion is this:

Be generous with compliments.  Be attentive and helpful. The world can be a tough place and any of us can be subject to rough handling.  Each of you can, by your tenderness toward each other, kind words and thoughtful actions, make your marriage and your home an uplifting refuge.

Last, but perhaps most importantly:

Make truth the unfailing bedrock of your lives together. A happy, loving marriage is built on trust and respect. That trust and respect can only be sustained if you are both deeply committed to always being open and truthful in every exchange no matter how small.

My hope for you is this:

That you have many long years to delight in each other’s company, to feel gratitude for your great fortune in having found each other.

To a make home together that is at once sheltering and welcoming, to each do meaningful, productive work at home and in the world and to love and be loved by the friends and family who have come here today to support you”

FG smiled, letting you and Harry face her before she continued “(y/n) (l/n), do you take Harry to be your lawfully wedded husband, and travel the rest of life’s road with him? Will you love him, laugh with him, comfort him, honor and protect him, and forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?” you rapidly nodded, squeezing Harry's hands, giving him a bright smile as your voice wavered.

“I do” FG nodded, looking to Harry as he sniffed and quickly rubbed his face as you gently laughed.

“Harry Hook, do you take (y/n) (l/n) to be your lawfully wedded wife and travel the rest of life’s road with her? Will you love her, laugh with her, comfort her, honor and protect her, and forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?”

“I do” Harry's voice cracked as he spoke, making the crowd laugh quietly and coo again as he nodded along with his words, taking a wobbly breath as you tilted your head and smiled at him.

FG nodded again, looking down at her book before looking up again “And now, they shall say their vows, I've been told you’ve written your own?” you and Harry nodded “All right then, who would like to go first?” “ I will” you spoke up, taking back one of your hands and sticking them into the dress pockets, Harry gasping a bit in excitement

“Pockets~” he cheered quietly, biting his lip as you grinned back at him.

“Pockets~” you cheered back, opening the paper with your vows and taking a deep breath. “Three years ago, I fell into this world…literally” the crowd laughed, Bonnie and Desiree clapping a bit “and the one thing I didn’t expect was to see you, but I knew the moment I saw you that it was going to grow into something, but I didn’t know then that it would be love.” You bit your lip as Harry sobbed lightly, bringing up his free hand and wiping his cheek “I grew up thinking I would never find someone for me, I thought I would end up alone with twelve cats and fifteen dogs” Harry snorted at that, biting his lip “but that all changed when I saw you for the first time. And I knew that I was going to be by your side for the rest of my life, either as your friend or as your lover. I have never felt a deeper love for anyone else in my life, you are my sadness and my joy, but most of all you are my love. I promise to always protect you and your sisters, I promise to always love and cherish you, I promise to eat any leftover Brussels sprouts that Harriet makes you eat” Harry laughed, Harriet behind him rolling her eyes “I promise to always be there for you, and I promise to love you from now to the end of time, and just a little bit more”

You let out a small coo as you looked at Harry, who was softly sobbing and attempting to wipe away the tears that were streaming down his cheeks again. “Fuck” he mumbled, laughing as Harriet patted his back. “My turn I guess?” you and FG nodded, Harry taking your hand again as he took out his vows from his pockets.

“um, when-when I met yeh” Harry's voice cracked as he started, laughing a bit as you reached towards his face and wiped another tear away “I didn’t know I would love yeh this much, I didn’t know how much I would come ta care about yeh, but I’m so damn happy yeh came into meh life, and I know that I would be in a very different situation and I would be a different person without yeh. Yeh protected meh from meh father and so many other people who tried to hurt meh, yeh accepted my sisters and friends as yer own family even before we got together, yeh have been by my side since before we even really knew each other, and when-and when yeh stayed up with me all night when I had one of my nightmares, that was when I knew I loved yeh. But-but”

Harry sniffed, wiping another set of tears away as his voice cracked “I dinne know how much I loved yeh, until I lost yeh for almost two years, I-I love yeh so much that I was in physical pain when yeh were gone, and I could only breathe again when I saw yer face again for the first time” you gasped for breath as tears almost spilled from your eyes, but Uma quickly handed you a tissue and you saved your makeup, you let out a breathy laugh and looked back at Harry, giving him a blinding smile.

“I-I never thought I could feel so much for a person…as yeh…and-and I just desperately need yeh ta take care of meh because I’m a mess all the time” you laughed, squeezing Harry's free hand as you stepped slightly closer to him, staring into his bright ocean blue eyes. “I-I wrote a whole thing” he nodded down to the paper he was holding, the crowd laughing a bit as he crumbled it up and shoved it back in his pocket “But it's long and repetitive”

He took your other hand, giving you that smile that you oh so dearly loved of his “and ultimately, I just want ta promise yeh that I will love you forever…I will always show yeh affection, I will always be happy ta see yeh no matter how hard the day was, I will always be sad ta leave yeh when I have ta do first mate stuff fer Uma” Uma chuckled behind you, dabbing her eyes with a tissue “I will always care for yeh, if yeh are sick or hurt. I will always celebrate you and celebrate with yeh when yeh are happy. And most importantly, I promise ta be yer best friend…because yeh are my best friend” Carlos smacked Gil when he made a small noise, Gil laughing a bit as he did so. “And all of these things are promises I have ta make, but I have no intention of ever not making. Because I love yeh so much and I’ll never stop.”

You took a wobbly breath, squeezing his hands again and looking to FG, who was dabbing her eyes quickly. “Ah yes, of course, the rings?” Skipper and Sterling stepped forward, both holding a small red box in their hands. You took the box from Sterling while Harry took the box from Skipper, Harry patting Skipper's head before the two joined their father in the crowd.

“Now” FG started, turning to Harry “Harry, repeat after me;” he nodded, taking the ring out of the box and cradling your left hand, the golden band shining against the sun. “ With this ring”

“With this ring” Harry repeated softly, staring into your eyes, smiling as he slid the ring onto your finger.

“I am giving you my promise,”

“I am giving yeh meh promise,”

“to always love you,”

“ta always love yeh,”

“cherish you,”

“Cherish yeh,”

“honor you and comfort you.”

“honor yeh an’ comfort yeh”

“ I promise that I will love you”

“I promise that I will love yeh”

“and keep my heart open to you”

“an’ keep meh ‘eart open ta yeh”

“All the days of my life.”

“All tha’ days of meh life.”

FG nodded, turning to you and you repeated the same words to Harry, sliding the golden band onto his ring finger, intertwining your fingers as you did.

“(y/n) and Harry, we have heard your promise to share your lives in marriage. In the honesty and sincerity of what you have said and done here today, and in accordance with the laws of the state of Auradon it is my honor and delight to declare you henceforth to be husband and wife.” You beamed at Harry, jumping in place slightly as your favorite part was only a moment away “You may now kiss the bride” you grabbed the lapels of Harry's tailcoat and pulled him into you, sealing your marriage with a passionate kiss, Harry's arms wrapping around your waist and picking you up off your feet as the wedding party stood and cheered, some of the crew popping off confetti poppers.

FG beamed as you and Harry pulled apart, stopping for a moment to stare into each other's eyes “Everyone~!” FG called out, clapping her hands together as you and Harry faced the crowd “May I introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Hook!”

-

An hour later, everyone sat in the reception hall, you and Harry sitting in the middle of the table at the front as your main wedding party surrounded you, Harriet on Harry’s left as Uma sat to your right, the Smee twins enjoying their macaroni and cheese as they ate dinner with their dad. Dizzy and Celia sat with Evie as they ate their chicken and potatoes, Mal chatting away to Evie as they sipped at their sparkling cider.

Harriet tapped against her glass with a knife and stood, giving an awkward grin as she did as everyone turned to look at her “Uh, I was told it's time for the best maid and maid of honor speeches so I guess I’ll get it over with?” Harry shook his head fondly, wrapping his arm around your waist and leaning against you, bumping his head into yours as the hall went silent to prepare to listen to Harriet.

Harriet took a deep breath and looked to you and Harry “I don’t have a big fancy speech all written down so Im’ma just go for it…so when as we were growing up, I was basically Harry and CJ��s mom, I took care of them the best I could and hoped they didn’t die when they went out to cause whatever chaos they had decided on, the first time I stopped worrying about Harry was when he made friends with Uma, because other than (y/n) and I, she is the only person who can ever tell Harry what to do and he’ll actually listen” Harry rolled his eyes at that, the party laughing along.

“But there was always a part of me that was scared for Harry, that something would hurt him…that part disappeared when I met you after the incident, when uncle Smee told me someone from Uma’s crew had destroyed my father and his crew all on her own, and saved Harry from him. When I met you after that day, I had expected someone cold, someone who had only saved Harry from my father for personal gain…but I was wrong” Harriet gave you a soft smile, tears brimming at the edge of her eyes

“you were someone that- while you hadn’t known him for very long, -that deeply cared about my brother, and I could see that as soon as I saw you. And as you and Harry started to be together more often than not, I saw him grow from the little shit that always bothered me, to the young man who I am so proud of” Harry sniffed and wiped away a tear, looking up at his sister with a watery smile “Thanks to you, my brother is still around today and I’m so glad you’re the one he fell in love with, you are everything I ever wanted for him and I am proud of you both” Harriet raised her glass a bit, the wedding party following her lead “I wish you an eternity of love and happiness, to Harry and (y/n)”

“To Harry and (y/n)!” Everyone drank from their glass as Harry stood and wrapped his sister in a hug, burying his face in her neck as she rubbed his back.

“Thank yeh” he whispered against her neck, laughing as she pulled back and kissed his cheek, something which she hadn’t done since they were kids.

“Thank you” she whispered back, the two sitting down as Uma stood with her glass.

“Dunno how I’m gonna top that but!” the crowd laughed again, Uma smiling as you squeezed her hand and grinned up at her. “Um…I guess I’ll start with this, (y/n).” she looked down at you, taking a deep breath “When Harry first dragged you into the chip shop to join the crew, I honestly didn’t think much of you, even after Harry told me you outran the Gaston twins, and then when you stole Gaston’s prize trophy the next day” you glanced at Ben, snickering at the shocked look on his face “When you arrived, I had no idea how much of an impact you would have on us” she gestured to her, Gil, and Harry, then the crew.

“But I knew how important you would become to us when you came back from the Jolly Rodger after dealing with James Hook for Harry, and I’m really glad you came into our lives, especially Harry’s because, without you, I don’t think any of us would be the people we are today. Then as the months went by, and I saw Harry fall in love with you, it wasn’t until you told me where you were truly from that I saw you truly loved him back, willing to hurt yourself to protect his feelings, which still, that was stupid as fuck and I have no regrets from yelling at you about it” you snorted and rolled your eyes, hitting Umas elbow gently as she smirked at you.

“And I feel like I've already talked too long so I’ll end it with, I’m glad you and Harry are together and I love you both, and I’m so happy for you” she raised her glass, the wedding party following her lead as they did Harriets “to Harry and (y/n)!”

“To Harry and (y/n)!!”

As Uma sat down you leaned over to wrap her in a hug, Harry doing the same and wrapping his arms around both you and Uma. “I love you” Uma whispered, grinning as you and Harry whispered it back.

Soon it was time for your first dance as husband and wife, Harry leading you out to the dance floor as the orchestra that Ben hired for you got ready. The reception hall went quiet as Harry's hand rested gently on the small of your back, a small gasp escaping you as he smirked.

-I’m going to describe this as best I can but in case I don’t clearly do so, watch this as you read or just watch to get the dance/music for the first dance-

The music began to play, and Harry started to sway you side to side, then he turned, spinning the both of you around, your back facing the crowd as he looked directly at you. “They’re all looking at you” you whispered teasingly, unable to keep the smile off your face as Harry gave you that flirtatious smirk of his.

“Believe me love, they’re all lookin’ at yeh” he pulled you towards him, stepping to the side as you turned slightly and stood at his side, his other hand resting on your back again. Since you had first seen the movie, the 2015 Cinderella, you had wanted the ballroom dance to be your first wedding dance, and Harry had listened. And he was doing all you had imagined and more, having practiced the dance over and over even when you weren’t available to do so.

He pushed you back in front of him, this time his hand going under your arm, pushing it up and down in time with the music, your quiet laughter making his smirk turn to a wide grin, watching you fondly as you enjoyed your first dance.

On the fourth push, he pushed your arm over your head, leading it to a spin from you and leading your arm to rest on his chest, his hand resting in yours as your fingers caressed his face. He pushed you back out, your dress flaring as you spun before going back to him, your arm switching to the other side of his chest.

He pushed you out one last time, now holding out his arm as you spun and grabbed it, walking the two of you in a small circle as you spun in time with the cadence of the music. You spun again and grabbed the front of his arm this time, laughing quietly as he winked at you.

He gently pushed you out to spin again, your dress flaring perfectly as you linked hands and pulled each other in, your arms above your head. You did that once more before Harry pulled you into him, one arm resting on your upper back while the other held your hand. You laughed, letting your head fall back as Harry danced you around in a small circle. The world had seemed to fade away as you danced, you and Harry being the only two in the room, your hearts and soul in sync as you swayed to the music and each other.

Harry pulled away ever so slightly, grabbing onto your hand and guiding you as you spun from one side to the other, he did that three times before pulling you back into him, your back to his chest as one hand rested on your waist while the other intertwined with your hand.

Harry spun you back around, you once again facing him as he lead you around the dance floor, the guests gasping in awe as your dress flared around you and shimmered under the spotlights. Harry spun you as the music flared, laughing at the small breathless gasp that erupted from you.

He gently grabbed your hip, pulling you onto him slightly as he lifted you and spun around, your dress flaring again as he did so. You laughed again as Harry pulled you into his lift side and dipped you ever so slightly, then joining your hands again as you spun. He released your hands, the two of you spinning away from each other for a moment then joining hands again, then spinning once more.

Harry caught your hand and upper back and started to dance you around the room. as you reached some of the guests, he grabbed your waist with one of his hands and lifted you in the air away from them, smiling at the laughter that spilled from your lips. He pulled you into the middle of the dance floor, spinning both of you around as he grabbed your hips and lifted you into the air as he spun, unable to keep his smile and laughter at bay as you gasped in shock and excitement.

He set you back down on the floor, your faces only inches away from each other as he spun the both of you around one last time, grabbing your hand and waist and dipping you slowly as the music came to an end. You both were out of breath as the violins played their last note, Harry taking your hand and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles as he bowed to you, you laughed and lowered your head.

The hall burst into applause, the world fading back to normal as you and Harry excited your private little world.

Ben motioned the orchestra again as the applause died down, and they began to play fast-paced music for everyone to dance to, the guests flooding the dance floor as you and Harry joined hands again to dance.

-

A few hours later, the cake was cut, the dances were danced, the food was eaten, and you and Harry were all reception partied out. The crew and many of the vks had wished to continue to party the night out, so you and Harry gave them the green light to continue having fun as you walked out of the reception hall. Harry had driven you back to the ship by the ‘just married’ Mercedes Ben had gifted you for today. He pulled up to the docks and turned off the car, running to the other side and helping you out, holding much of your dress in one hand as you carried your heels.

You let out a small sigh as you stepped onto the main deck, the crew had cleaned it after your photos were taken and you and Harry had left for the reception hall so it was almost as if a wedding hadn’t taken place on the main deck.

Harry let your dress fall as you tugged the skirt away from him gently, kissing your cheek as you leaned into him “What a day” you whispered, setting down your heels and walking towards the front of the ship near the bow, leaning against the rails that faced the ocean. The sun had long since set, the moon slowly rising high in the sky as stars decorated the black of night.

Harry joined you a moment later, wrapping one arm around you as the other leaned on the rail, his hand only niches from yours as you both stared at the stars. “We’re married” Harry laughed quietly, knocking his head into yours gently as you pushed into him, closing your eyes “hard ta believe it really happened, it’s been wha’? three years since we met then almos’ a year since I proposed ta yeh?” you hummed against him, nodding.

“Yeah, it's been a while” you laughed, pulling back slightly and pressing a kiss to his jaw. “but I’m glad it happened”

“Me too” Harry hummed, pulling you closer to his side, kissing your forehead. “I love yeh”

“I love you too”

You both went silent, listening to the waves crashing against the ship and shore, just enjoying each other's company.

You pulled away from Harry slightly and looked behind you, feeling another presence on the ship. You smiled, seeing Persephone smiling at you. Harry turned, nodding in greeting to her. “Congratulations,” she hummed, looking up at the stars “what are you two going to do now?”

“Dunno” you answered simply, leaning against Harry again and closing your eyes, enjoying the warmth seeping from him to you. “All up in the air right now” “Any plans for children?” you snickered as Harry froze and shook your head.

“Not at the moment, again it's just…All up in the air” Harry hummed at that, looking out towards the ocean as he rubbed your back.

“…Question” Harry started, looking to Persephone, who tilted her head “Why-why are yeh so invested in our relationship?” Persephone paused at that, pursing her lips. “If I had to be honest? I’m not really sure, but when (y/n) landed in our world I got attached to her for one reason or another. It might be because the ember is why you are here in the first place?” your brows rose at that, tilting your head.

“The-the ember? Like Hades ember? How?” Persephone nodded, crossing her arms as she looked back toward Auradon city.

“well, you do know about the crack deep below the isle, right? The one that was very close to my husband's lair on the isle?” you nodded, Harry raising his brow, completely lost.

“I’ll explain later” you whispered, gesturing for Persephone to continue.

“Well, the crack allows magic to seep in, and the ember is a part of Hades powers, and he can control and guide souls, and I suppose some magic slipped in and affected the ember. The ember found your soul and then connected it with Harrys, and it realized you are soulmates and sought to bring the two of you together, and because it couldn’t take Harry and bring him to your world, it would take much more magic to do that, it took you and brought you here” you stared at Persephone for a moment before sighing.

“Soooo the ember is wha’ brought us together?” Harry guessed, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side again.

“That’s the gist of it, it’s also why the ember brought you back on the bridge after Uma dropped it, it had full access to its powers and again, sought to bring you and Harry back together…plus I manipulated it a bit to transport you here” Persephone laughed a bit at the last couple words, giving an awkward smile.

“Thank you” you laughed, and you were genuinely thanking her, because without her influence you and Harry might have never been able to meet or get married.

“You’re welcome…now I think I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone, and again, congratulations” you and Harry waved her off as she disappeared in a cloud of pastel green and pink smoke.

You and Harry smiled at each other, Harry leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away, both of you turning to look at the moon.

“So what are our plans fer the future?” Harry quietly asked, moving his hand to intertwine with yours.

“Well,” you started, pursing your lips as you glanced along the ocean, seeing some mermaids in the distance. “we could explore the world, or stay in Auradon, we could have kids soon or we can wait, or just not have any.”

Harry laughed, bringing up your hand and kissing your palm “Well, I’m up fer anything with yeh as long as I can be a part of yer world”

“Oh, Harry” you cooed, gently taking your hand from his and cupping his cheeks, smiling at him. “You are my world”

Harry gave you a teary-eyed smile, his eyes closing as you leaned in and kissed him.

Now we can walk

Now we can run

Now we can stay all day in the sun

Just you and me

Forever be

Part of your world

-The End~-

Wow…wow its-its actually finished…the original part of your world has been fully written. Almost 3 years of writing has come to a close, I started this in October 2018 and finished in May 2021, it has been 2 years and 7 months since I first posted the first part of this series, and honestly, it's weird to look back and see how much my writing has improved.

Well, this is the end of our journey, Harry and (y/n)s story is finished, this is open-ended so if you want to have kids with Harry you can, if not then you don’t, if you want to travel the world with Harry or not, it's all up to you, it's your story now. (that doesn’t mean you can continue writing the story just imagine it okay *yes I had to write that, some people would take the ending and decide to write their own continuation without my consent and I didn’t want to risk it*)

Again I am planning on revising and rewriting the first two parts of this series (Part of your world and Reprise) and then rewrite the first 15 parts of Encore cuz I feel like I need to so the old writing can catch up with the new writing. But ill be holding off on that until I finish Rewrite-POYW, which if you didn’t know is an AU of this fic that I have been writing since last year, and it's ongoing at the moment. The mini-series is being posted and written right now and it leads up to D3, which will be posted in August.

@queer-cosette @sephiralorange @lunanight2012​

@daughter-of-the-stars11​ @musicarose​ @random-thoughts-003​

@remembered-license​ @rintheemolion​ @verboetoperee​

@imtryingthisout​ @thecaptainsgingersnap​ @jatp-rules-my-life​

[evolutionsvoid]

Had another instance of finally remembering a dream, and it was a doozy. Sadly there wasn’t anything too crazy monster-wise for me to draw something up, but the whole setting and experience I had just needed to be written down somewhere. So here we go!

The dream was of me working at a research station on a mountain range, one that felt like it was somewhere in America. Our station wasn’t at the top of the mountain, but more of halfway up. The place we stayed at was surrounded by walls, and the buildings were kind of dorm style, with everyone having a small room, but everything else being community space (shared kitchen/living room etc.). There was a road to our little compound, but it was dirt and very long. Our station was small, we had only about a dozen people there, but at the time of the dream I knew every person there. The main reason that this dream stood out to me was because I felt like a completely different person. There were no “huh, this is weird” or “wait, this isn’t real!” moments. I was a field work technician there, and had been for months. This was just daily life, waking up, meeting with the other techs there during breakfast and then going out on research excursions. I knew all these people, we had worked together for awhile now. There was a deaf girl I was good friends with, we had been on the same team for multiple excursions at some point in the past. There was a point we were talking while preparing dinner. Don’t remember the details of the conversation, but it was pleasant. Regardless, all of us were up here on the mountain because we were doing research on whatever the hell was happening there.

The mountains we were stationed on were called “The Smokey Mountains,” and they were home to some sort of anomaly. From a certain elevation upwards, strange occurrences and changes showed up on these mountains. The higher you went up, the stranger and more messed up things got. Despite being up high, there were flowing rivers and ponds, trees growing where they shouldn’t, and the whole mountain was riddled with man-made tunnels and bomb shelter-like construction. At some point in time, the government had come in and tried to do something to the mountain, thus they made all these tunnels. But the anomaly caused issues and they abandoned it, leaving behind these empty spaces. The constant debate amongst our team was if this anomaly existed before or after the government tinkered with the mountain. Weather changed rapidly and wildly, strange creatures roamed the mountainside, and there was a bizarre aura to the whole mountain. It was our job to go out each day and observe what was happening, and return to the safety of the walls before nightfall.

My dream had me go out on three separate excursions, some more memorable than others. The first one I recalled was going out to the rivers and ponds that sat a little lower on the mountain than our camp, and watching the otter/seal creatures that swam in the waters. The only thing I really remember was that a pair of tourists had hiked up to the same pond I was at, to see these beasts. We chatted briefly and I recall pointing out that one of the larger creatures was playing and chasing another smaller one. One of the hikers cut in to say “I don’t think he’s playing,” just in time to see the larger one (turned out to be a male) get a little randy with the smaller one (turned out to be a female). Embarrassment ensued, and we all kind of left.

The second trip had me going out to check on a smaller station we had set up higher on the mountain. It was just a shed and some measuring equipment  surrounded by more walls, and I went up to make sure it was working properly. Once I opened the gate, I found that the local mountain man and his horse had set up camp the previous night within the walls. I don’t remember his name, but he was a fellow that had stayed on the mountain most of his life, regardless of the danger and anomalies that were present. He had black overgrown hair and a long black beard. He was a serious fellow and a survivalist, he knew how to make it on this mountain by himself. The horse he traveled with was just as hardened and serious, never showing fear or nervousness, always calm and careful. I got talking with him for a bit, but then he pointed out that we weren’t alone. He turned my attention to a rock outcropping a little higher up the slope. What emerged was a large gorilla-like creature whose skin was made of stony pieces. The rock ape was gray in color, and had come out to sun itself. All three of us remained still, hoping that the giant wouldn’t notice us and we could slip away. Unfortunately, it discovered our presence and came bounding down the slope at us. It leapt over the walls and went after the fellow’s horse. It grabbed the animal like a toy and ran about the compound. The horse barely reacted, just going limp, while his owner advised me to keep calm and not chase after the ape. Running and yelling would only rile it up more, and it could take it out on his horse. Eventually, the rock creature grew bored. Before it left, it bit one of the horse’s back hooves off and then dropped the animal. It bounded over the walls and disappeared into the wilderness. By the time we were sure it was gone, the horse had gotten back up and limped over to us unfazed. The mountain man said that his horse would be alright, and that he would make a prosthetic for its missing foot. I was sure he knew what he was doing, as he had lived up there for so long. We parted ways at that station, and I headed back to camp.

The last excursion was the most eventful and most remembered one, and that was where things got even more interesting for me. For this one, I was paired with our research lead, and we were hiking up the mountain for observation. After a bit of climbing, we got to a place to stop and rest. We thought the coast was clear, but suddenly another stone ape appeared from a hidden cave. This one was black in color, and was much more aggressive. It spotted us and started making threatening motions with its arms. We started to back away slowly, but we weren’t fast enough. The large beast yelled something out, and then a large shadowy panther came bolting out of the cave. The ape sicced this huge cat on us, and we had to flee. I saw that the cat was targeting me, so I jumped off a sheer cliff and grabbed at a tangle of vines on the way down. I hung from the side of the cliff as the dark creature shot over the lip and plunged down just past me. It fell into a pond far below, where the water boiled and hissed. Eventually what emerged was a regular sized black cat, that bolted out of the water and vanished into the forest. Though the threat was gone, I had no way to get back up, so I climbed down and did my best to find safety.

What happened after I got down, I don’t know. All that was apparent was that things had gone sideways and I got in quite the mess. My pack was gone, my wallet and phone were missing and I was pretty banged up. I stumbled through the forest looking for help, only to suddenly find myself before a walled off resort. I had somehow gone quite far down the mountain to wind up here. One look at the place, and I instantly knew who they were and why we all hated them. This resort had been built lower down the mountain for tourists to come and stay so that they could see all the weird creatures and anomalies. A long time ago, the research station had argued that the resort was too close to the mountain and was in danger of the anomaly. The resort claimed they were perfectly safe, and since nothing terrible happened publicly and the resort brought tons of tourism, no one stopped them. But I had recalled many conversations around the dinner table and during excursions where we were certain the resort was still within range of the anomaly and that it was only a matter of time before tragedy struck. I entered the resort and sought out the front desk. I remember seeing families playing in the courtyard, and children riding these personal-sized hot air balloons to see the mountain and its weird inhabitants. It was a happy scene, but one I knew would someday go sour.

I eventually found the front desk, while also noticing some of the brochures. There was a bunch of stuff about tours and hikes, and I saw that my research station was a seven mile hike away. With it being later in the day, there was no way I could hike that far and make it back before nightfall, and no one walked that mountain at night. Another detail I had spotted was a mention of another rock ape that was spotted on the mountain. This one was said to be white in color and had blue growths on its body. There was no picture, but it was made out to be the star of the show. Regardless, I headed to a receptionist, when a realization hit me: They are going to think I am sick. The anomaly of the mountain caused some kind of sickness or condition in those who stayed upon it. The higher you went up, the stronger its effects. What this sickness did, I never found out, but I knew my team didn’t have it. We somehow had a way to ward off these effects, but I knew that these resort folk wouldn’t realize that. The resort was supposedly built far enough away to be safe from this sickness, but everyone was sure they weren’t. Guests didn’t stay long enough to feel the effects, and who knows what they did to the employees. With that thought in mind, I went to a receptionist who was behind one of those clear sneeze guards, in hopes that she wouldn’t freak out with a barrier between us. I explained my situation and asked for a ride back to the station. She said “no” and suggested I hike the way back. I was in no shape to hike and wouldn’t make it back in time, so I started to haggle for a ride back. Last thing I recall from the dream was trying to win this woman over into giving me a ride back by telling her how cool it was up there and how awesome my coworkers were. I just remember sweetening the pot with things like “My friend, _____, makes her own arrows! And _____ knows all these martial arts! And my one coworker, ______, does these really great drawings!” It was like I was trying to win her over with a talent show. I felt that I did secure a ride back to the station, but that was where the dream ended.

This dream didn’t have much in sakes of monsters, but the setting has really stuck to me, as well as the person I was. It felt so real, so lived in. I had been there for months, knew all these people and had these memories. I had friends, experiences, conversations from the past. And it was all atop this bizarre mountain that no one could explain, but we were adamant in figuring out. Makes me wish you could continue dreams, because I really wanted to see more.   

[sidespromptblog]

Between the Mask: Part 3

One, Two and End

Warnings: Again plenty of tears, Virgil kinda mouths off about Janus, and Logan gets a little salty about it. 

Summary: Roman confronts Janus about how exactly he should treat him after being told that being both nice and mean to him was wrong. Only to discover that after everything that he’d been through, Janus isn’t the person that he portrays in front of everyone else. 

Word Count: 3013

AO3 LINK

Despite everything that had been promised, it started out rather slow. So much so that it felt like it was driving Roman to absolute madness, he knew as well as the others that they couldn't just rush into this without any kind of warning. They needed to build up to revealing everything, along with the fact that Logan wasn't even ready yet to face Patton let alone Virgil. Doing it too soon could and very well would go wrong, and the last thing that he wanted was for things to go back to the way that they were before. He didn't want Logan to go back to being holed up in his room, unable to be reached by anybody. Or for Janus to go back to putting on his persona every time he wanted to be even a little accepted, even if it was as the villain.

Virgil, who already panicked at the slightest hint of change in his and Thomas' life. There was no telling just how he’d react as soon as Janus showed his face to all of them, let alone with Roman now openly supporting him in everything he was doing. Not only would it make Virgil feel left out of the loop, but… it would make him paranoid as hell as to what Janus was plotting and if he had been plotting at all to turn everything around like that. Because whether he liked it or not, Roman knew Virgil, and he knew somewhat to how Virgil would react to all of this.

They needed to be smart about this.

But coincidentally… having to be smart about things just sucked.

Honestly Roman felt like he was trying to get a herd of feral cats to get used to the mere idea of comfort and love, something that Janus had been sorely lacking in the many many years of his Deceit role. As well as getting the idea across to the others that this was something that they should accept while making it all seem like it wasn’t some huge plot from the very beginning. Doing so would only shift the blame onto Janus, leaving him right where he first began with not a single shred of hope to be had for him.

Small steps, as Logan had said to Janus and him.

But small steps didn't make enduring this any easier.

Because for the first time in more than a week, Logan had answered Thomas' call to see him without any kind of hesitation. He had done so without his tie and his hair a little less than neat, it was a change, the first change that he had talked about making in order to ease the others into things. But even that little bit was almost instantly noticed by everyone. The looks that he had received from Virgil and Patton made Logan unconsciously squirm in his spot, the urge to dig his nails into his palms almost overwhelming to him. It took a conscious effort to remain perfectly still, and not fidgeting with the area where his tie would have been. Really though it felt like his progress that he was supposed to be making might as well have been moving at the pace of a snail, with how much the others seemed to notice everything about him.

Whether he wanted it or not.

"What's with the new look Logan?" Patton curiously inquired, "We just changed our outfits not that long ago, is it time for another one?"

Even the smallest and carefullest of prods from Patton felt like a harsh poke to Logan, even if the moral side didn't mean it to be. The other side had no idea that the tiniest little question could flay Logan’s emotions, leaving him wanting to retreat back into himself without a moments notice. As if… as if everything that he did was under constant question, and he couldn't just be without someone bringing up what he was doing. For a hot second he felt like curling into himself, as if that would draw less attention to himself. Or just receding back to his room like he had done before, and never showing his face.

It felt just like the infinitesimal incident.

Thankfully Roman sensing his rapidly dropping mood turned the attention to himself. "If he likes it that way then who are we to question it? Maybe it's more comfortable, I know it would be for me. Even my glorious sash becomes too much for me sometimes, and I wish for nothing more than relinquish it of its duties." It took a lot out of Roman to not immediately move to where Logan was, and to stand in front of him getting there gaze off of the nervous logical side. But even he realized that doing so would only sink their plan before it had even begun. "He looks nice without it, doesn’t he? Right Padre?"

The affectionate name was not lost on Patton, and nor was the question being brought to light. In Patton’s eyes, any change from the norm deserved its time in the light so it could either be praised or worried about. But now that the attention drifted over to Patton, his cheeks turned scarlet at the realization of the fact that he had unintentionally been putting Logan on the spot just for a single change of the logical side’s attire. He had never stopped to consider whether or not Logan wanted it to be brought up in such a way, or if he even wanted it brought up at all. He had just done so…

Kind of like when he had just blurted out Logan’s name before Logan had decided to tell it to Thomas.  

“You do look nice though…” Virgil mumbled from the side, his fingers clenching and unclenching the hem of his hoodie fighting through his anxiety of the awkward situation to get even a single compliment out of him. “Your hair… it’s… hair.”

The tiniest of smiles cracked on Logan’s lips, and just like that the protective storm welling up inside of Roman flew right out of him. Just that single quirk of his lips seemed to lighten up the logical side’s whole face in a way that had been sorely lacking before, nobody least of all Roman knew when the last time that Logan had smiled was. It felt like almost an eternity ago, when Logan still had that faded polo shirt and that pale blue tie, that was close to the last time he had seen Logan look over to him with a smile of pure excitement on his face. Not one that had constantly crushed and forced over the years that everything had been happening, especially not that one.

“He’s right,” Patton’s voice dragged Roman out of his own musing. “Your hair is lovely Logan, so.. so if you want to experiment with your style. I won’t comment on it unless you want me to.” A part of Roman felt a great deal of shock at the fatherly figure’s words, but another part of him knew that when it came to their own close circle of ordeals Patton would promise anything to make the other side more comfortable.

There was no doubt that Patton would mean those words, and there was no doubt that he’d try to stick with it too given how much their little family meant to him. It was just a matter of whether Logan would feel confident enough and comfortable enough to come to him in the future.

Logan’s gaze didn’t exactly meet Patton’s, evidence enough of the rift that had grown between them from Patton’s last actions when it had come to Logan being in the last video. “Thank you,” Behind his back Logan’s nails dug into his palm, biting harshly into it. Now here came the curve ball. “Janus has made a few suggestions, so I’ll be sure to show you when I begin to try them out.”

Just like that it was almost like the warmth in the room had been sucked out by a vacuum.

“Jan..us?” The letters of the dishonest side’s name stuck to the room of Patton’s mouth like peanut butter. “Huh?”

The confusion was clear, and the tension in the air palpable.

Almost immediately Roman wanted to motion to Logan to abandon such a topic of conversation, as judging by the way that Virgil’s shoulders had suddenly stopped hunching and the anxious side now stood towering with a withering look on his face… he clearly wasn’t ready to hear about Janus in any kind of capacity. There wasn’t anything that Logan could do to change that, especially if Patton couldn’t do anything about it considering that he was the closest one to Virgil right now. Asking Virgil to humor any kind of discussion involving Janus was as useful as asking him to stick his hands in a bee nest, not only would he not do it, but he’d probably smack the person who suggested it in the first place. It was just how Virgil was as a side, change was… bad for him, him and the anxiety he subconsciously produced.

“You’ve… been talking with Janus?” Thomas spoke up for the first time since Logan had shown up, the amazement that Logan had shown up had shifted into something that kind of resembled softness as he looked back at the logical side in question. His entire body had shifted from facing Patton and even Virgil, to now facing Logan. He gave the logical side his full attention for once. “Is that what you’ve been doing since you were gone? Have you been okay with him being around you? Is he…”

Thomas’ words trailed off once he got to the topic of Janus, clearly he too wasn’t so certain about how he was supposed to even entertain the idea of Janus. Given how Janus had introduced himself though, Logan couldn’t fault him for that.

“He is fine.”

And that was the truth.

Nervously Thomas eyes shifted from Logan back over to Roman, obviously expecting some kind of reaction from Roman. Something like dismissal, anger, outrage, or just coldness. But there was nothing as Roman kept his gaze firmly attached to the other sides, he was stiff, but stiff in the kind of way that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else other than worry over how the others would react to Logan’s rather bold declaration of conversing with Janus when he had been avoiding Thomas and the others for as long as he had. For Virgil, it would undoubtedly feel like a betrayal and nothing more given the context, or the lack thereof that Logan had been so stingy about. But for Patton… Roman wasn’t sure, despite how the moral side had prided himself in being an open book, Roman knew remarkably little about his actual thought process. That’s what had made it so hard to see Janus’ acceptance coming from Patton, he had expected Patton to stick to his guns and be determined that lying was bad, so when he didn’t…

Patton was very much of a wild card, despite how the other side liked to downplay himself.

A short irritable huff left Virgil, “Really Logan?!” Snarled the anxious side, the eyeshadow dark and thick under his eyes. “You’re actually willingly talking with him?! After he silenced you?! Why would you ever want to be around him now, the last thing you should want to do is hang around him! Do you even know what he’s like?!”

In an instant Logan’s gaze snapped up from the ground, and Virgil felt a shot of ice slam into his chest.

The look in Logan’s eyes..  it was unlike anything he had seen before…. He had seen Logan’s unbridled anger when Roman had called him stupid, he had seen him snark before, and even get a touch underhanded when it had come to things he didn’t want to talk about and things that he didn’t want to do. But this… the sheer anger that reflected in Logan’s eyes now, for the first time… made Virgil very afraid.

He didn’t like it.

He didn’t like this new Logan.

“That’s enough V-” Roman almost immediately stepped forward, a familiar look of protective rage on his face ringing throughout his entire body. He had never once been provocted into drawing his sword against Virgil, but hearing him so dismissively talk about Janus as if he knew him… It made something inside of him rage, to want to snap at Virgil and tell him exactly what he knew about the real Janus and about how far off Virgil was from the actual truth.

Roman stopped dead as soon as Logan held his arm out, his chest merely brushing against the logical side’s arm with how close he had come in just two strides. But he held himself back from saying a single word, it was Logan’s time to talk…

Not his.

Not yet.

“As if you know the real him.” Logan didn’t shout, he didn’t need to for everyone to hear what he was about to say. “And he is by far not the first person who has attempted to silence me, but he is the first person who has actually apologized for doing so. So as far as you are concerned Virgil, I will continue to hang out with him and treat him as my friend. Because he is my friend.”

A look of twin guilt blended together on Patton and Virgil’s face, a look that had said they knew the not so hidden meaning behind Logan’s words and had understood every bit of it. They had never apologized, Virgil had actually threatened Logan when he had attempted to talk about Remus. And Patton… Patton had actually silenced Logan, whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not.

Virgil looked sick to his stomach, as if just now realizing. “Logan…” He murmured, unease and guilt swimming in his murky eyes.

Patton however could only stay silent, his hands clasped over his mouth in an attempt to stop any sound from leaving him as well as to stop the shaking of his own hands. His eyes though did all of the speaking for him, betraying how Roman had been unable to get a reading on him before, as they now told everything for him without the use of words.

I’m sorry. His eyes said. I understand why you left for as long as you did after what I did to you. And even… You were right to stay away, if we hadn’t even realized until now.  

“Don’t apologize,” Logan sharply said, cutting them to the core. “Don’t apologize to me unless you’re apologizing to Janus as well. He deserves better than a one-sided apology.” He was right, or at least Roman knew that he was right even if the others didn’t. “I will see you all at dinner, set another plate out for Janus.”

Logan’s steely gaze only softened when it landed on Roman, Roman had made his apologies loud and clear to him just days ago and he had apologized to Janus as well. Not only that…

They had both kept their promise to Janus.

“See you… Roman.”

And just like that Logan was gone, leaving a vacant space where he had once been standing. Leaving Roman there with an amber-like warmth in his chest, at the thought of returning to Janus’ cozy room where they could all sit and be together without a care as to who would interrupt them. Where they would be safe, and be their truest selves without the fear of outside eyes peering in and judging them.

“So…” Thomas awkwardly broke the silence, cold tears dripping down his cheeks as his voice cracked the moment he tried to use it. Both Patton and Virgil’s combined emotions hitting him with a kind of blunt force. “You’re not angry about Logan seeing Janus?”

A rough snort fell from Roman’s lips before he could stop himself. “Go take a nap and play a video game Thomas,” He instead gently told the man who certainly looked like he could use one. “I’m not angry about Janus, and I’m happy that Logan is finally happy. It’s the way he should be.” Being emotionless and robotic didn’t suit Logan, no matter how he liked to say in the past that it did. He was supposed to be the vibrance of curiosity, combined with the endless knowledge of things that had been learned. He was the one that knew all of humanity was made out of stardust.

He was never supposed to wither like he had.  

Thankfully Thomas didn’t argue, as he nodded tiredly to his creative side and staggered back towards his bedroom. Roman suspected that he was far too emotionally drained to do so even if he had wanted to at the time. He’d have time to endlessly question them all later, but now Thomas deserved some peace and relaxation without having to worry over what came next. He didn’t need Janus to tell him that much, Thomas wanted it, so Roman too wanted it. Turning around Roman moved to sink out just as Logan had, just for a hand on his shoulder to stop him dead in his tracks. Patton finally taking this time to gather his wits had finally reached out, twin streaks of tears running down his face.

“What did you mean?” Patton softly croaked, “When you said it was how he was supposed to be?”

Ah…

Roman grimaced, he didn’t want to answer questions right now, but… if he had any chance of getting the two off his back for even a little while he’d need to give them something. And it had to be something for them to think over. Something that would stop them from going after Logan as well, and even relax even the slightest around Janus and get the gears turning in their head. Something…

It had to be good.

Really good.

He knew what to ask.

“When was the last time you saw Logan smile?”

[chuckbass-love]

can i request a super smutty one shot of chris evans and hes obsessed with doing anal and it's the filthiest hottest thing ever ??? i love ur work btw :))

Hi lovely anon, thank you so much for the request and i really apologise for the delay. I’ve been working on a couple other things and obviously Christmas time has been hectic too. However, it’s here now and i hope you love it. Also thank you reading my work, your support means a whole lot and i really appreciate you🥰

A/N: Not written smut in a while so please give feedback as i’m anxious and worried that this is shit. Also, part 5 for Only Love Can Hurt Like This will be out soon. So strap yourselves in for that. 

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, FILTH, anal fingering, anal intercourse, oral (f, receiving), vaginal fingering and daddy kink. 18+

Word Count: 3,054

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @myimaginesworld go check them out❤️

New Obsession

If you were to tell the truth about how you felt a week ago, then it would be that anal made you nervous. Well, not anymore.

You’ve been with Chris for around a year now, which to many wouldn’t seem like a long time but to the two of you, it feels like a lifetime.

He had a way of automatically putting you at ease with everything. Especially in the bedroom or whenever it came to opening up emotionally and even now, that’s still the case.

He treats you like a queen. 

Last week whilst the pair of you were lounging around his Massachusetts home with Dodger nestled in between your legs as you lay in between Chris’s legs. He randomly asked you some rather explicit questions.

Ones mostly about your ass and what you’d let him do to it. It started off with him asking about eating your ass, playing with it and then eventually he asked if you’d ever have anal sex with him,

The mere thought had your puckered hole clenching and your tight cunt slowly starting to drip with your honey like arousal. Yeah sure, you were terrified but you’d always been curious and wanted to explore new territory with him. 

You love him and you trust him with your life so you agreed to try.

And after a nice romantic meal, a lot of wine on your part, beer on his. You ended up kissing on the couch. It started off very slow until he stood up with you in his arms, carrying you to the master bedroom. The journey there was spent with his large hand splaying across your soft globes, squeezing them aggressively like he just couldn’t wait to have his filthy way with you.

That night was certainly crazy to say the least. You were a little sore after which only led to Chris kissing you on your delicate hole a couple times and running you a bubble bath.

He’s the king of after care with you. Always checking in with you before, during and after to see if you enjoyed it. The last thing he’d ever want is for you to be in pain or danger.

Since that night though, you’ve been doing it whenever you can. It’s like an addiction. The feel of his huge cock pushing into your forbidden and tight hole is something you can never even begin to explain. It just feels incredible. Plus your little cunt gets extremely excited at all of the attention. Chris tends to rub at your bundle of nerves or even dip his fingers into your honey pot, 3 at once. He says he never wants your pussy to be left untouched.

But like you’ve said. It’s like an addiction to you both. In fact, he’s crazy for it. 

The grunts that leave his mouth always have you keening for him to go deeper and deeper inside of you. Every inch of him.

Tonight is no exception.

You had a lovely day at his parent’s house. Lisa cooked a gorgeous lunch and all of Chris’ siblings visited with their kids and partners. 

You and Scott spent the entire day laughing and joking about the many times you scared Chris. It’s like a running joke in this family plus Chris hates being scared. He calls himself the master of scaring people so when the tables are turned he gets this huge need to get them back.

Whenever Chris is horny or desperate for you, he has his ways of letting you know without actually saying the words. 

For example.

You were helping Lisa with some of the last minute prep for lunch by taking stuff out of the oven and placing it onto dishes to then put on the table.

Chris was sat at the kitchen island, sipping on a beer. Well, he was practically gulping it down. You were in the kitchen also.

Lisa asked if you could take the quiche out of the oven and leave it on the cooling rack. Chris’s eyes followed your ass as you bent over. Something you had anticipated to happen since he’s an ass man and your ass in particular drives him insane.

You turned around to place it on the cooling rack and that’s when you saw his flushed cheeks. His eyes full of hunger and lust. Animalistic even.

Before you left to go to his parent’s house, he was begging for you to ride him quickly.

“It’ll only be a quick one, just wanna feel that ass around my cock again”

His whining was more than tempting and now, since you rejected his offer, he was so close to taking you upstairs into his old childhood room to ram into you.

But instead. Lunch was served and he didn’t have the time. 

Hours had passed until eventually it was time to go. Lisa gave you some of the leftover quiche since Chris enjoyed it so much and the two of you got into the car with you in the driving seat this time. 

“You’re such a fuckin tease baby” he slurred

“And why’s that?” you asked, feigning innocence as you started driving. With his house not being far from his parent’s house, the journey was only around 10 minutes, not even that.

He never responded to you, just smirked as he sat back in his seat.

The moment you got home however, he was all over you like a rash. You shut the front door and locked it just before he pushed you into it. 

Your cheek squished against the cold door.

“Chris” you squealed, he didn’t respond though.

You felt his body lower until you were pretty sure he was on his knees, lifting your sundress up and hooking his thick digits into your soaked panties. He yanked them down and tapped your legs for you to step out of them. 

“There they are. God i’ve missed this pretty little asshole and oh my, look at this soaked cunt. All for me, huh baby?” you knew that he was well aware of the kind of effect he had on you and your body but he still liked confirmation from your mouth.

“Yes, daddy. It’s all for you. Please” 

Whenever you’re around Chris and about to have sex, you find yourself turning into this pathetic woman who is literally his whore. You crave his touch. You crave the feel of his cock ploughing into you so hard that you forget your own name and he loves how hungry you get.

He stood up then, his eyes dancing over your body, the only thing wrong with the view was that you had clothes on. He soon changed that, stripping you completely before getting back down onto his knees.

Which is how you got here. 

Your one leg is over his shoulder and your fingers are tangled up in his hair that was once styled. 

“Fuck. Daddy. Yes. Just. Like. That” your breathing is heavy and your heart is beating rapidly. His fingers working wonders inside of you whilst his mouth is sucking on your clit.

You’re on the cusp of yet another mind blowing orgasm from just his fingers and mouth alone. He’s already had you messing all over his fingers once but clearly once wasn’t enough if he’s trying to draw another from you.

He’s always been greedy like that.

“Come on baby, i know you got another one in you, give it to me” his fingers start to curl ever so slightly, pressing at that spot inside a couple more times before you’re falling.

Your cum sliding down his digits beautifully. Just the way he likes.

Before you even have the chance to speak, he’s spinning you back around and spreading your ass cheeks to reveal his new obsession.

Seconds later his tongue is pressed against it, circling too. 

You shiver at the sensation, your back arches and your hands rest either side of the door frame. In hopes that it’ll steady you.

“There she is, my little whore”

You bite down on your bottom lip as your eyes roll to the back of your head. There’s no point in trying to hold back the moans anymore and with one final lick to your eager hole you let out a loud pornographic style moan. 

With Chris, it’s always hard to hold back and he knows that. There’s been so many times when he’s tested you, fucking you in public areas. But the worst one was when you were in his L.A home.

Lisa came to visit at the very beginning of your relationship. You went for some nice lunch and then dinner which was courtesy of your excellent cooking. 

Chris put her up for the weekend and boy did he choose that night to initiate some pretty filthy sex. 

You were lying on your stomach and trying to sleep when you felt his hands wondering. Then all of a sudden he’s spitting on his cock for lube, stroking it a couple times before sliding into your pussy with ease. All thanks to your permanent need for him.

The way he fucked you that night was most certainly sinful to say the least. His room being next door to the guest room where his mother was sleeping. You’re surprised she didn’t say something the next day. Chris had to keep pushing your head into the pillow to muffle your pleasure filled screams.

“So eager for my cock i see but not so fast baby. Gotta get you ready first” the raspiness of his voice makes everything ten times hotter and you can quite literally feel him inside of you without it being a reality.

He stands up and his finger starts to circle before he slowly pushes it in, taking his time to prepare you for another one of his thick digits. 

They glide across the walls inside.

One more is added and another until your ass is stretched out nicely.

He continues to work you over, scissoring his fingers too. Despite doing it a lot already, preparation is key with anal.

“Think you’re ready?”

“Please, i need it” you mewl

He lowers his head so that his mouth is just by your ear and his breath fans your skin “yeah, need it huh? Need daddy’s cock deep inside this tight ass of yours?” 

You nod your head aggressively, you couldn’t look more keen if you tried. 

“How bad you need it baby, tell me. Tell daddy like a good girl” he whispers, his cologne filling your nose and intoxicating you more than ever as his hand reaches in front to rub at your sensitive clit. 

“Please, daddy. I need your cock in my ass. I need it so much” 

Before you got with Chris, dirty talk wasn’t necessarily something you even thought about during sex but he introduced you to that world. And what a world it is. It seemed as though, the more you did it, the dirtier you got. 

Nicknames were thrown around, more kinks were even explored and you became the pinnacle of a mans dream. Woman in the streets, freak in the sheets.

Such a princess to the public. But for Chris. You’re a whore. Only for him though.

“Beg for it baby” he insists, his fingers press down harder as he rubbing pace quickens.

You can feel the tip of his huge size poking at your hole. Just a push and it’ll be forcing it’s way inside of you, stretching you out even more than his fingers did and filling you up in the best way.

“Daddy, give it to me. Stuff my ass full of your cock please. I need it”

“Such a good girl, my good girl. S’fucking tight baby” the pair of you hiss as he begins to push into you, tearing that sweet ass open.

He’s always loved how tight your ass is and if he had it his way, his cock would remain seated inside of you all day every day. Where it belongs. With your peachy ass cheeks adding to the incredible view.

Every time he fucks you from behind, he spoils you with spanking after spanking, not letting up until your ass is sore and it stings to touch. Luckily, you love it, always begging for more.

And tonight is no different.

His hands rest on both globes, rubbing and kneading before eventually lifting off and smacking back down, earning a gasp from your mouth.

With every inch, he gets closer and closer to bottoming out until before you know it, he’s seated deep inside of your ass.

His fingers find your pussy immediately, sliding inside with no time to waste and then it starts. His thrusting. Slow at first of course.

Gradually getting faster and faster.

“Feel me deep in that fuckin ass huh? My little cock whore. Love getting fucked in this ass baby?” the pure filth leaving his mouth has your clit throbbing under his thumb.

“Answer daddy when he speaks to you” he mutters, spanking your ass and gripping your face with one hand and forcing you to turn your head a bit more so that you’re looking at him “sorry daddy” you pout, face flushed just like his was earlier at lunch.

“And?”

“Feels so good with your cock fucking my ass like that, i need it deeper” you cry out, waiting for his pace to change. His hips snap against your skin as he presses you back into the door with his hand tangled in your hair. 

He pulls on it harshly causing you to wince in pain. It all adds to the earth shattering pleasure though, you love when he gets like this. 

Ever since you first tried anal last week, he’s turned into this animal. He wants to fuck your ass mercilessly whenever he can. Whenever it’s possible and it’s times like these when he’s glad his house is away from others. He can fuck you as hard and as rough as he likes and your moans won’t be heard by anyone. Absolute bliss.

“That’s it baby, take daddy’s cock like the whore you are. Take it deep” he draws the last word out, his breathing hitches and so does yours as you choke on a moan.

“Take. It”

One smack to your ass cheeks.

“My filthy anal loving whore”

Two smacks to your ass cheeks.

“I always secretly knew you’d love this and i was right. Such a dirty little girl for her daddy, aren’t you?” His fingering pace picks up, ramming into you with such vigor as his cock slows down into hard and rough thrusts.

“Let me hear those sweet noises baby, don’t hide them from me. Sing it for daddy, let me know how good i make you feel”

Your back arches and your face lifts off of the door, head falling back to rest on his chest “please, i’m gonna cum, don’t stop i need it” your desperate whimpers are enough to have him ploughing into your ass harder and faster, his grunts, growls and cursing lets you know how close he is to his own earth shattering orgasm.

“Is daddy’s little girl gonna cum too, huh? Gonna cum with daddy, all over my fingers baby as i spill my cum into your ass again. Like last time?”

“Yes daddy, please, i need it. Give me your cum” 

“Such a beg, god you feel so fucking good. Can feel that cunt clenching round my fingers. Cumming baby? Huh, gonna cream all over my fingers like the whore you are?”

All you can muster is a pathetic nod and a whine. You’re so close now.

And just like that, with a couple more thrusts in both holes. You clamp down on his cock and fingers, your clit pulsating again as you cum with a shaky sob of his name.

And of course with your pleasure, his is spurred on. You can feel him twitch and spasm inside as he chokes your name out too. Spilling his hot seed into your ass.

“So fucking good” his heart is beating, you feel it as you lay your head on his chest.

“My good girl, taking it like a pro. I’ll never grow tired of that”

He slowly pulls out, making his way to the bathroom and taking your hand so that you can follow him.

Once there, you get this sudden wave of confidence.

“I already miss your cock inside of me” he runs a wash cloth underneath the hot tap for a couple seconds, before using it to clean himself up. He starts running a bath too but you don’t want one.

You want him.

“I guess we’ll just have to do it again after our bath then won’t we?” he wraps his hand around your wrist, tugging you close so that you’re flush against him.

“What if i don’t want a bath?”

He raises his eyebrows at you in question.

“You want me to fuck your ass again?”

Now that he’s saying it out loud, you feel a tinge of embarrassment.

“Come here and sit on this fucking cock then baby, daddy would hate to disappoint you”

So you do exactly that, he doesn’t have to tell you twice.

“You’re only fuelling the flame baby”

“I don’t know what you mean” your innocence shining through as you turn your head to look at him through your batting eyelashes.

“This ass of yours, you know what it does to me, having my cock buried inside of it. It’s my new obsession” he starts, caressing your cheek before gliding his hand across your body “now. Show daddy how you bounce on his cock”

It would be your pleasure.

----------------------------------

I hope this was great and that you all love it!!! Honest feedback pls...💜

I’ve not written smut in a hot minute so if it’s shit i understand.

General Tags: @deadlymistress24 @coffeebooksandfandom @chris-butt @holtzkinnon @mychemicalimagines @llamadelreyx @haus-of-bitch-talk @buckstaybucky @thewinchestergirl1208 @chrissquares @patzammit @adriannajackson @dummiesshort @cevans-fics @americasass91 @toni9 @aaliferouss @bradfordmyworld @thereisa8ella @rockyrogers @yassspose @randomsevans 

Just Chris & His Characters tags: @onetwo3000 @persephonequeenofthedead @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @rynabarnesrogers @princess-evans-addict @stxvercgersslut @chris-evanslover @bval-1 @thejemersoninferno @denisemarieangelina @janeyboo 

LMK if you want to be added to my tag list!

[socketz]

Johnny Depp x Female!Reader

Indulge Me.

Type : Fluff! (with a wee bit of Angst thrown in there)

Warnings : Internal conflict, swearing, kissing (pretty detailed, though nothing overly sexual), a little alcohol consumption I suppose, and that’s all. It’s super fluffy! 

Word Count : 6.3k (kinda short, I know :/ my bad) 

Request : Not Requested.

Summary : Johnny x Female!Reader, where they have been close friends for a super long time, and the reader (you!) has slowly developed feelings for him. A confession, a walk, and a sweet, slow, kiss, in the rain. 

Authors Note : I don’t know why I got the urge to do this, but I started writing and simply did not stop, so here we are. I thought it turned out quite cute, although it is very cliche :) Also, Johnny is not famous in this, though it’s set in like ‘91, or ‘90. He’s just a really sexy regular guy, I suppose. That’s all :) Enjoy!

Indulge Me, Johnny Depp x Female!Reader

There was truly something about him - about Johnny - that you simply could not place. The two of you had been friends, strictly friends, for almost too long to remember, and it seemed that with every passing moment either of your spent, swaddled in each other’s company, that relationship merely grew. It manifested, and developed, so incredibly, yet entirely unnoticed, by both Johnny, and yourself. It was incredible, really, that such a friendship could hinder quite so rapidly, and seemingly only for one participant. 

You didn’t mean to begin noticing the little things, the details, about him. Like the way he smiled, so incredibly gentle and uplifting - contagious, you could argue - or the way he would change, so naturally, when around you, in comparison to that of everybody else. His laugh would grow louder, freer, and his voice would amplify; no longer riddled with nerves and a sense of timidness. Comfort, you supposed, was a factor he allowed himself to become engulfed by, whenever you were present, and you certainly liked it. You began noticing the way he would touch you, tender, and cautious, or the way he held your hand - merely due to instinct, he would always blame, though your butterflies wished it something else - and the way he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, when you complained for the cool breeze, never once bothered by your close proximity. You noticed the way his eyes could light up, and he would smile something small; ridden with joy, for no particular reason at all. You noticed that his hair was longer, now, and that it fell to a messy central parting, digits consistently brushing it from his gaze - you liked the way he styled his hair, you decided, and it was so soft - so tender. You began to notice the way he treated you, so polite, yet bitterly brutal when his jokes played themselves around. You noticed things that you probably shouldn’t have, and, well, such an inconvenience caused a severe disruption to your whole mechanism. 

At first, you thought it to be an illness of some sort. The stomach churns - the best kind, as you later discovered - and the butterflies, the tingle between your thighs. Am I sick? You began to think, as you checked yourself for a temperature. Alas, there was nothing but a flush of embarrassment to your reddened cheeks, and a heavy sensation within your chest, as you supposed that it would all disburse within a matter of days. 

Well, a couple of days came, and went, and things had only gotten worse. 

You began to dream of him, and, admittedly, you enjoyed them - of course you did - but it only made your face-to-face discussions an almighty difficult task to partake in. The butterflies ascended into a trail of breathtaking tingles, ignited by the slightest touch, and a sense of fire ruptured within your throat - it was so difficult to say the things you wanted to say, when your infatuation threatened to spill from your tongue at any given moment, and his beautifully chocolate gaze held you so captivated, so numbingly, to your place. He rendered you silent, your mind falling blank, with a simple smile, or a glance. Pathetic! That’s what you’d call it. Utterly pathetic. And, realistically, you knew it would only grow worse, the longer you decided to repress such information from your closest companion - and apparent lover, in your emotions’ eyes - but you simply couldn’t find it in you, not at all, to utter such simple words.  

They could do so much damage - undo so many memories! And ruin everything. Maybe you were simply paranoid - maybe you were driven by utmost fear - but romance seemed so terribly painful, and you weren’t entirely sure if you could handle the way it would end. After all, everything good must come to something bad, right? Perhaps it was just the way your childhood played out, between lies and heartbreak, separation and loneliness, and fear and rejection - or maybe you were right. Maybe everything people were taught, all that they would read, about love, and about fictional infatuation, was just that - fiction. Maybe true love didn’t exist, and the books had it all wrong. Though that would not explain the thin sheen of sweat, glistening something noticeable upon your forehead. 

You were nervous, to say the least.  

The seven o’clock News displayed upon your television, igniting the darkened room in an expanding, blue, illumination, and you nibbled your nails somewhat anxiously, thoughts engulfing the surrounding buzz of the visual journalism - not that you ever paid it any mind, anyway. You always found the News boring - they reported nothing but shit, and you made sure to voice such an opinion, whenever Johnny would force you to watch it. “It’s educational!” He would laugh, gripping onto your hips and forcing you upon his lap. Of course, it was only something playful, and his arms would snake around your waist, chin against your shoulder. It was comfortable, you could never deny, but the News was still ever-boring and droning. 

Though, now, it seemed appropriate. You were far too nervous to concentrate on anything in particular, like a gameshow, or something of the sort. Even the soccer seemed far too involving for you. 

After all, today was the day you finally relieved yourself of such a weighty secret. You could hardly contain yourself any longer, and you were growing tired of the worried glances Johnny would throw your way, when you flinched from his burning touch, or paused mid-sentence, struggling to find your gasped breath. God, it was all so embarrassing. You hoped sincerely that it wouldn’t render something awkward, or differentiate your friendship, in any which way, but you were certain it was all one sided, and just wouldn’t be the same after. Perhaps he already knew, and was attempting to ignore such a thing, as best he could, and for that, you practically worshiped his ability to handle difficult situations lightheartedly. Or maybe he was as entirely clueless as he seemed to be, and it would be as awkward as you could picture the whole ordeal going. 

Either way, you needed to say something, before it accidentally slipped within a regular conversation, and ruined everything. You attempted to reason with yourself, that if things truly did turn bitterly awful, at least tonight there would be pizza and wine, to salvage your mortification, and- 

The soft jingle of metal echoed, distant, yet alarming, throughout the quiet and dim apartment. Scuttling, your hands grasped the remote control, muting the television in a rapid and almost panicked manner, breathing laboured and uneven. You weren’t ready - you definitely weren’t ready. You couldn’t do this - tell him how you felt, that is. How the hell would you even go about it? It wasn’t the kind of thing you could just bring up- 

“They didn’t have any of that wine you like.” He sighed. You froze, rigid in your seat. “I got somethin’ else,” He trailed, “Doesn’t have a brand, I don’t think.” Two rustling bags settled in place before you, his keys landed with a loud crash upon the glass surface, jacket shrugged upon the ground with a sudden waft of cool breeze. Johnny glanced toward you, as he slumped hastily upon the sofa, booted feet kicked out before him. “What’s up?” He mumbled, his eyes fluttered to a gentle close, eyebrows furrowed gently. 

“Nothing.” You said. How great of a lie it surely was, though you refused to blurt your confession aloud just yet. 

An eyebrow raised, doubtful for your unconvincing reply, as a gentle grin teetered to the corner of his lips, and, oh, didn’t he look pretty. “C’mon,” He teased, “What’s up with you?” A finger jabbed to your side - an extraordinarily ticklish disposition for yourself - and you squirmed instinctively, a certain warmth engulfing your chest at the familiarity of that supple smirk. 

“Really,” You persisted, “It’s nothing.” A breathy chuckle falling from upon your quiet tongue. “Have you tried that wine before?” You could confess your adoration for the poor man amidst the meal, though for now, it could wait. 

“Uh-” He frowned, the quiver of a smile to trace his gaze.“No.” He said. 

A subtle laugh dripped from your throat, gently shaking your head, as you mumbled a witty response. “Am I surprised, Jonathan?” To which he scoffed, his gorgeously depthful eyes rolling, and shone you a wickedly charming smile. 

“Guess not.” He muttered, a beat of comfortable quiet to drift you both by. “You’re watching the News?” He then added, a furrow to draw his eyebrows closer; glance fluttered between yourself and the blare of the silenced television, projecting utter bullshit as it went - ever-the-regular, you could argue. 

You simply nodded, “I am.” You said, somewhat a grin to upturn the crevices of your expression. A soft round of laughter fell from the man beside you, and you found your breath stuttered within the depth of your throat. It was an angelic muse, really, and thus you found yourself unable to conjure a furtherly coherent - never mind advanced - response, the simple two words proving enough for his bemused self. 

“But you fucking hate the News.” He scoffed. “Why the hell are you watching it?” 

A subtle giggle left your throat, and you snatched the lip of the bag before you, eager to indulge within the gorgeously scented - and warm - food. “Shut up, Johnny.” You said, a gentle smile to follow, “What’d you get?” 

“I don’t know.” He smirked, “Somethin’ meaty, I think.” 

“Of course,” You sighed, unable - quite - to dislodge the grin upon your rosy cheeks. “I mean, why would you know the pizza you ordered, right?” 

“Precisely.” He smiled, “I’m thrilled you understand.”

“Always a pleasure.” You simply said, for your mind had distilled something blank, useless, and your words had seemed to fail you. The sofa was old, it was desperate, clinging on to the stitching hardly reliable, but it was comfortable. It was familiar.  Johnny, and yourself, had refused to refurbish it - those cushions had been with you both, from the very first night. Roommates, you were. And simply the best kind. But there truly was something so tragic about a romantically tinted friendship, no matter for whom the sufferer seemed to be. 

Johnny latched upon the large pizza box, throwing it open, and - unsurprisingly - knocking the wine glasses with a greatly shrill ring, their clink a subtle jump. They wobbled, slowly, though regained their posture, and you found your shoulders slumping to a tender slouch. “Idiot.” You muttered, a certain fondness about your breath, as he merely smirked, and picked up a stringy-cheesed slice, mauling the triangular corner with not but an ounce of grace. 

A shimmer of grease coaxed the pout of his peachy lips, cheeks bulged with bread, and with toppings; over-loaded and particularly Johnny. Meats of various kinds - various shades - littered upon the excessive amounts of cheese. “Did you order extra cheese?” You mumbled. The man nodded, a wolfish grin to reciprocate his childish gaze, and you merely breathed a subtle chuckle. Of course, you thought; of course he did. 

You reached for the wine, popping the cork with a slight groan, and you poured a tester within the clear glaze of the bowled glass. You raised the edge to your mouth, took a sip, and smacked your lips. “Not bad.” You uttered, decidedly enjoying the rich tang of fruity combustion, flat and coiling, upon your tongue. You poured the glass full, hardly a centimeter from the brim, and you took a rather large gulp, quite liking the flavour, as it trickled upon the back of your throat, and you sat back, nestled within the comfortable cushions of the wondrously aged sofa. It was almost moulded to your body; for you always sat on the right, and Johnny, the left. 

A comfortable silence embraced you both, and you found yourself almost wishing it could remain undisturbed - you couldn’t find it in you, no matter how hard you probed, to conjure any kind of courage at all. Your knees, they felt weak, and your stomach churned uneasily - entirely disagreeing with the digested mouthful, as you rammed the corner of a pizza slice within your mouth, and you chewed slowly, cheeks beginning to rise in temperature. How the fuck would you even go about it all? ‘Oh, by the way, Johnny, I’m entirely in love with you, and I lose myself every time we touch!’ It sounded ridiculous. There was no possible way you could simply blurt out such a destructive sentence. You weren’t even sure if your feelings were real! They had just bothered you, and you feared that they’d somehow escape the breach of your lips, and flutter around, utterly unnoticed. Goodness, it was terrifying. 

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong, or are we gonna sit here in silence?” Johnny said, a light amusement to simmer upon his tone. You gulped, swallowing a particularly dry mouthful, and your muscles seized up. 

Surely this was the perfect opportunity, no? “Well…” You trailed. You did not want to ruin everything you’d worked so effortlessly to build with each other. Maybe you were just being silly, and your feelings were hardly potent at all. Maybe it was all dramatic, and you were fine. Maybe it was an exaggeration, and the entire thing was meaningless, and- “I think I’m in love with you.” You blurted. Fuck. Fuck, fucking fuck! Your eyes clamped shut, and you loathed the white noise. You could hope that he hadn’t heard you, though he wasn’t chewing, anymore, and he seemed suddenly rigid beside you. That was certainly a way to go about it, you scolded, wishing - with a burning detestation - that the sofa would swallow you whole. 

Say something, you begged, silent, and to yourself, as the quiet continued on. He shifted, and you froze - furtherly, if apparently possible. You daren’t share a glance with his gaze, fixated upon your burning mortification, as another gentle bite snuck between your lips. You chewed, and you chewed, a soft shimmer of sweat beginning to accumulate upon your brow - how foolish you had been, to admit such a thing, in that kind of way. “What was that?” He muttered. Shit! His throat was tight, you could hear the subtle restriction, and tone low, quiet. Don’t make me say it again, you thought, a volumed gulp to follow such a ponderous moment. Please, don’t make me say it again. 

“I’m sorry.” You sighed. Goodness, was it always supposed to be quite so difficult? Something began to wedge within the base of your throat, aching substantially, as the rising sensation of freshly salted tears began its ascent. Were you really going to cry? “I didn’t-” The voice caught in your throat, hindered by that ever-growing lump. God, you really hated this. “I didn’t mean to.” You didn’t mean to ruin your friendship, and everything in between, for a stupid confession that held you to the brink of fucking tears. 

More shuffling was to be heard, and you noticed his hands swiftly maneuvering the - now closed - pizza box, delicately dropping the white board upon the coffee table, no longer perched between you, and him. His gaze burned upon your expression, and your cheeks flamed scarlet, glare locked unwaveringly upon the television, slightly glazed with something fearful. You truly didn’t want to lose him - to have him laugh in the face of your affection, and turn you away. And although you knew the let down would be gentle  - it was Johnny, afterall, and there was hardly a bad bone in his body - you anticipated the worst. “Y/N,” He said.You gulped. A sigh escaped his lips, and he maneuvered the pizza slice from within your subtle grip, sneaking a quick bite as he went, and placed it quietly upon the table. “Y/N.” He tried again. You turned to face him, hesitant in yourself. His expression was gentle, the comforting kind of soft, and the corner of his lips lightly fluttered to the ghost of a smirk. “What are you crying for?” He scoffed, the grin simply growing as he spoke. “Don’t cry, Love.” You had hardly noticed the slip of a few salty confessions, as a soft laugh fell from your lips, hands roughly ragging upon the moist complexion. Pathetic, you thought, you were so fucking pathetic. “Come ‘ere.” He said. Your eyebrows drew together, glance unsure and lightly confused. He was so calm, and seemingly unphased by your confession - you couldn’t quite understand it. 

He rolled his eyes, the tilt of amusement to pepper his cheeks, and he grasped your upper arm, dragging you along the short distance of the sofa. You slumped into his side, another giggle trickling from your tear-tangled throat, his arm engulfing you in a tight embrace; one along your shoulder, and the other curled upon your waist. You rested your head on his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat subtle and calming, and he shuffled about, gradually withholding a lying position, yourself flatly placed along his front. “I’m sorry.” You repeated, a light sigh to accompany the apology. You meant it, really, you did. It was never truly your intention to adapt to such feelings, to succumb to your attraction - he just made it so fucking difficult, with those beautifully brown orbs, and a smile filled with the brightest kinds of sunshine. 

“Please don’t apologise.” He said. A short silence followed, and - perhaps it was simply an imaginational malfunction - you thought the rhythm of his heart rate differentiated, though only for a fleeting moment. “Did you mean it?” He whispered, tone soft; hesitant. 

A gentle frown caressed the bow of your expression, and you tilted such to face him, his features crossed handsomely with a sense of slight worry. Of course you had meant it - why on earth would you lie for such a thing? “Yeah.” You said. His gaze flickered between your eyes, a whir of doubt embracing the warm stare, and his tender wrap upon your frame squeezed for a passing moment. The hint of a smile glazed his orbs, a certain light suddenly rupturing within their mocha tone, and the corners of his mouth twitched a feathered smirk. 

“Oh, yeah?” He said. 

Your eyes rolled, seemingly still slightly dampened by your emotional concern. “Yes, Johnny.” You said. 

“Ah, right,” He muttered, grin widening to that of something toothy, and warm. “See, I thought I was going crazy.” He craned his neck to the slightest degree, gaze dropping momentarily to your parted lips, before springing back up, a twinkle of mischief to glaze his eyes. “I thought,” His tongue darted gently, dampening the flush of his lips, and you found yourself staring with a tingle of a blush - God. Your thighs began to ache, camped tightly together, at such a marvellous sight. “There’s no fucking way,” He continued, slowly, as his tone simmered to that of a tender whisper. “That the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known, could fall in love with me.” 

Beautiful. Beautiful, he had said. Beautiful! He thought you were beautiful! Your heart stuttered, and a furrow found your eyebrows, consciously aware of the circular trail, lightly peppered upon your waist by his wandering fingers. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You said, a mere mumble beneath your gaze of adoration and concern. What was wrong with loving him? 

A breathy laugh escaped his lips, the simmer of amusement and amorous repentance dancing within his stare. “Well, why me?” He said, “You could choose anyone.” He shrugged, “Kenny, from that corner store. Andrew - you know, Andy, the one that makes the cakes all the time?” You merely nodded, albeit speechless as to his rambling. “And what about Louis? The flower guy?” You raised an eyebrow, “You could take any of ‘em. You got a choice. So why pick me?” Why wouldn’t it be him? Why would it be anybody else? You couldn’t quite understand his doubts, as you adjusted your positioning, and leaned up ever-so-slightly, with great attempt to level your shared beam. Surely he wasn’t feeling insecure, he had no reason to, after all - none that you had given him, that is. 

“Don’t start that.” You said, “I wouldn’t want anybody else.” 

“Oh, yeah?” He asked, an eyebrow raised, “And why’s that, Love?” He was teasing you, you could ensure, though you felt little resistance to fall within such bait. 

“I wouldn’t want anyone else, because,” He glanced feverishly to your mouth, and the words seemed to pause, caught briefly within your throat. His gaze returned to yours, his smirk filtrated with some kind of newfound arrogance, and, my, didn’t it look devilishly handsome on him. 

“Because what, Deary?” He said, a sudden dark swirl to his tone. It was rich, nauseatingly good. 

“Because I want you.” You said. “And I’ve always wanted you.”   

Though your fear found itself wretched, stammering doubts of rejection within your conscience, you supposed there was just no going back from that. And you didn’t truly believe you wanted to.  

A glimmer of something heartily mischievous eloped within his gaze, “In what way?” He humoured, a slow smile beginning to trace the very corners of his wondrously entrancing lips. You paused, a moment of silence, and wondered whether you could dare to be as graciously brave as your protruding thoughts were  starting to grow. 

Your tone fell to something quiet - low. “In any way you’ll let me.” You said. And, oh, it had you aching, the way those delectably beautiful eyes darkened, and a pepper of thickening quiet settled between the two of you.  

Johnny’s mouth opened, the breach of something verbal threatening to fall from the gasp, though nothing came out, and he closed it, instead. His breathing stammered, you dared to notice, and you felt almost ill, bereft with the simplicity of your want, your need, for his emotional acceptance. “I see.” He said, somewhat breathless, and entirely succumbed with - what you depicted, perhaps foolishly, to be - love. You felt something rise, flutter, within the depth of your digestion - almost drabbled with such pride, that you could affect him in any which way. A grin engulfed his expression, once more, and elated the darkness, clouding his chestnut orbs in a magnificent kind of way, as one hand crawled up from upon your waist, and clasped the curve of your blushed cheek. His calloused thumb traced a thing of gentle affection, stroking the soft complexion in a timid manner, and that flock of butterflies found themselves satisfied with their numbingly strong fluttering, crawling upon your skin in a matter of nerves and anxiousness. “Well,” He spoke, glancing adoringly between your eyes. From one to the other, as though he couldn’t quite believe you to be smitten within his hold, reciprocating his feelings so endlessly. The warmth of his adorning breath fanned the supple part of your gaped lips, expectant; waiting. “Best go put on your shoes, then, aye?” He whispered. 

And with that, he was gone. Hoisting you up, as he stumbled to his feet, and his expression elated a smile. He squeezed twice on your shoulders, humoured by such a frown, and he swooped down to collect his jacket from the floor. “Go on,” He said, “We’re off on a walk.” 

“We are?” You echoed, a slight distance woven within your tone. 

Johnny smiled, “We are, Love.” He said, and he barreled himself through the arms of his coat. 

You paused, be it only a moment, as gentle tufts of hair drifted upon his forehead, and he brushed them back, a toothy grin etched upon his face. He stretched up, an arch to his back, and muttered a; “Go on! It’s raining, you’ll get your feet wet if you don’t.” With a hustle, and a small shove to your shoulders. 

Frowning, you found your feet drifting you to the corner of the room - he’d gone mad. It was decided. Though, perhaps, you thought; you were just as crazy as he. For why else would you slip on your shoes, and throw on a jacket, hanging up on the wall hooks? Without another thought of hesitation, you shoved it all on, and you regained your full height, a little breathless - unfortunately so - and met the uneven smirk that was utterly Johnny’s.

He clapped his hands together, a soft connection, and rubbed them slightly, bounding to the door before you both, and swinging open the darkened oak. Neither you, nor he, bothered to dismantle the blaring illuminant that was the television, as he awaited the passing breeze of yourself. 

You wandered him by, mind a whir of incoherent thoughts, though one - one in particular - stood out, among the others. He hadn’t said it back. 

The weight of his arm, curled around the crease of your shoulders, brought you away from such a thought, and you had hardly noticed the few tender steps you had traced. “You smell nice.” Johnny said, a slight smile to his tone, “Fruity.” You merely grinned something small, and rolled your eyes. Ever the strange one. 

“You’re sure you haven’t had any of that wine before?” You jested, “On the way over, perhaps?” 

He smiled, something soft, as his free hand fumbled within his depthful pocket, and his gaze found his shoes. “The cheap stuff gives me indigestion.” He smirked, “Didn’t want the heartburn.”

“Ah,” You breathed, “I suppose that does make sense.” 

You approached the stairwell, poised to the end of the depressingly dim hallway, and watched as he bounced upon every step, no longer wedged beside you, but rather bounding upon the echoing chorus of the descending metal. His hair, naturally dried from a drizzle of cooling rain, flowed - up, and down - in a majestic kind of motion, as a subtle giggle fell from you, and your legs maneuvered a slight jog, to catch up with his waiting frame. 

He stood, slick with a grin, at the door, his arm a barricade upon its weight, as you muttered a curt thanks, and you stumbled into the waft of approaching crisp. The winter chill embraced your figure - a sudden movement, as it trailed from your toes, to your hips, to your finger-tips, and your nose - and you draped your hands within the depthful pockets of your dark coat. You shuddered - Heavens, was it freezing - and you clenched your jaw, spat with a sprinkle of dainted moisture, as the clouds shed their supple solemness. 

“It’s beautiful, don’t you think?” Johnny muttered, striding to that of a similar pace, as his hands, too, found the inner comfort of his pockets, and his arm brushed with yours. You warmed at the touch, though not by much, and you simply assumed it was all in your head, dismissive for the sudden heat. “The night.” He continued. “There’s just something about it.” 

You turned, gaze fixated upon the gorgeous glow of his sculpted features, contorted with a content smile, orbs fluttered upon the scenery before you both, unmoving, and entirely comfortable. Happy, you dared to notice. And as were you. “I know what you mean.” You mumbled, a saddened grin to quiver upon the corners of your lips, though you simply couldn’t force it’s obtain, as it fell, and your eyes found the floor. He hadn’t said it back. 

“It’s like-” He paused, tongue winding upon his lips, and his eyebrows furrowed momentarily. “It’s like the whole world is asleep.” He smiled. “It’s not, but it feels less… Alive.” 

You breathed a gentle laugh. “Like it’s only you.” You mumbled, “Without the pressure, and the judgement.” There was a subtle nod, as he brushed the fallen hair from within his vision. 

“I know how to be myself, when the moon’s my only company, y’know?” He admitted, nibbling the tender flesh of his lower lip, as his gaze darted, between the street, to the tree, to the housing scattered around. “Like whatever happens, under the stars, it-” He paused, he let out a breathy chuckle, and continued: “It won’t matter in the morning.” You simply nodded, as he opened his mouth, a stuttered mumble falling from his tongue, and your silence remained, for you knew he was not quite finished. “I just- I-” He paused, another shaky exhale, and your eyebrows furrowed. He scratched the lower-crown of his hair, ruffling it, slightly, with a nervous chuckle. “I don’t want-” He frowned, gulping, and continued: “I don’t want tonight to be one of those nights.” 

Your furrow seemed to deepen, the words falling before you found yourself able to grapple them. “What do you mean?” You mumbled, a gentle cloud upon the frozen nightlife. 

“Look, I think-” He sighed, pausing mid-step, and standing, amidst the weighted rain, as it grew heavier, and you simply grew wetter. You paused, expression contorted with a slight confusion, dribbled with copious droplets that you didn’t bother to brush away. “I think I could dote on the darkness, forever and a day.” He said, and you frowned. You wondered just quite where he was going with such, though failed to interrupt his continuance, as he spoke, soft, among the patterning rainfall, draping upon the concrete with a rhythmic dance. “But it’s not-” He caught himself, one more, as another nervous laugh trickled from his dampened lips. Verbal gold, it surely was. “None of it - it’s not- it’s not as, uh, captivating, as you.” 

Your chest fell woozy with a supple ache, furrow one of grave compassion, and he glanced, hesitantly, with a curt removal, to your expression. You smiled, a glaze of sorrow melting from upon those amorous features. Captivating. He thought you were captivating. “And I think you- uhm-” He coughed, a slight smile to catch the corner of his lips. “I think you taught me to love, again.” He mumbled, head-up tilted, as his warm, genuine, gaze, infiltrated your own. 

“Oh?” You grinned, truthfully unable to rupture the flutter of great tingles, encasing your shivering complexion - a certain warmth cursing throughout your frozen blood. 

He laughed, a glance of something shy to his shoes, and he nodded. “Yeah.” He mumbled, returning to meet your joyous expression. “And I think I’d like to dote on you, instead.” 

“In what way?” You muttered, mocking for his previously sly commentary, a gratuitous - particularly brazen - step closer, to the grinning man, as his hands, slightly coaxed by a pink chill, from the breeze of winter's embrace, draped upon the clothed fabric of your hips. 

He drew a step closer, your shoes toe to toe, and he spoke - dangerously low; nauseatingly rich. “In any way you’ll let me.” He smirked. And, well, that seemed quite enough for you. 

There was a certain warmth about it - the capture of your supple lips upon the soft flesh of his own, molded wondrously to a hymn the Angels could never know. Eyes fluttered to a gentle close, engulfed with a sprinkle of vanishing warmth; the rain no longer seemed to matter. For you were clothed, slick like a second skin, in the thick moisture of everlasting water - wet, to the very bone - but no longer did you shiver, no longer did you tremble, with the ache of a chilling night. The pressure was timid, and the exploration a motion utterly anew - yet so beautifully divine, so entirely right. 

Your fingers - pink, and bitterly numb, in themselves - wove to clutch upon the lapels of his cotton jacket, a clutch of passion, and of longing, to emancipate the wondrous flutter in the depth of your gut. It twisted, it turned, it ached, it shrieked - you felt ill. Ill with the fever of amorous recipricance and a lover so sickly sweet, you felt you’d awake with cavities, in the later morn. You liked that thought, as your head tilted, be it only slight, to the side, and he followed your subtle retreat. Like honey, did he taste; like gold, did he display. And, oh, if this was love - if this, two lovers combined amongst the ache of winter’s cue - you decided that it was, undoubtedly, real. It was real, not a mere description of romanticised fiction. No. No; it was the golden sunlight, woven between your very hands; it was the melody of the birds, so suppley sweet; the dew upon the whispered grass, a lick of crisped morning; the enticing ferociousness of the oceanic waves, an azure of alluring power; the liquid gold, to drip from a Poet’s pen, woven beneath the tongue of their romantic thoughts - Oh, it were all that, and more. So much more. 

And, as his feeble smile fluctuated upon his bowed lips, and his fragile hold - something so gentle, upon the flush of your frozen cheek, you hardly noticed the grace of movement, thumb brushed beneath your fluttered eyes - draped across your features,  you found yourself discovering all that it ever could be. 

His tongue, though warm, and tender, slithered something slow upon the breach of your lower lip, and your cheeks furrowed a blossoming grin. Parting your lips, subtly, you allowed the delicate invasion of a gratifying, sweet, pressure, as the flesh ran along the side of your tongue, and you encased it within a frail suck, withdrawing from such an entanglement for hardly a moment. You inhaled a particularly deep breath, unfinished and wondrously interrupted, as his lips found yours once more, a collision of teeth, and of grinning hearts, and he craned upon your stature, a barricade to crawl along the base of your lower back. The soft slosh of clapped fabric wove amongst the rainfall, and a breathy chuckle harmonized from upon your lips, himself ridden with a gorgeous grin; chest-to-chest, with a kind of warmth you had never before known cursing throughout the very complexion that was your own, as your bodies collided, and his strength held you close. 

You inhaled the scent, familiar, though certainly different, and it tingled the depth of your nostrils - like woodland, and a subtle cologne. It seemed raw, so ravenously close, and your lips twitched upward at the thought. Oh, how you loved him. It ached your smitten chest, as he moulded his lips upon your own, and your movement harmonized something bitterly perfect, and it combusted among your soul. It tore the very sense you once held, from within your capacity, and it brushed such necessity beneath the carpet; for what was sense to a girl in love?

Nothing. All that made sense was him - was he - and you yearned to know it all; every crevice, every dent, for the rest of your days. Forever seemed a long time, though life so awfully short. To spend forever, a faux illusion of endless measures, by his side - it spread a warmth, such burning heat, throughout your tender frame, and you ached to know the script of every moment spent together, all until every moment were merely a memory, with nothing left to come. 

His feathered affection fell to a tender null, a lingering pause to disperse upon the gape of your swollen mouth, and he draped a peppered peck upon the very corner, withdrawing from such an intertwined proximity. You fluttered your gaze to meet his own - a stare of saturated honey; of every nightfall; of every poetic tale - and he smiled. A smile, so incredibly warm, you found yourself unable to withhold the reciprocance, as a timid blush crawled upon the complexion of your grinning features, and your eyes retained their strengthful embrace. 

For the bitter breeze had returned, and your lips were falling cold, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered - not the howl of brash wind, curling within your locks, and whipping the hood of your coat; the ache of layered rain, as it pattered, continually, upon the distilled world around; the treacherous ache of all things nauseatingly woozy, engulfing your frame in an intensely warm ambiguity - unfamiliar, though entirely welcome. None of it mattered - not as you drowned within the softness of his adoring gaze. 

Adoring, you thought; oh, did he adore you? “I love you.” He mumbled, a quiet crackle upon the pattern of rain, though you caught it - oh, did you catch it, clutched within the fragile hold of your softened heart, ached with the pressure of convicting ribs, it cried for freedom, for home; for Johnny. A smile, so genuine, so utterly enticed; joyous, draped upon your lips, and the corners of your glimmering eyes fell to a crease. He loved you.  He breathed a gentle chuckle, soggy arms curled upon that of your shoulders, as he drew you close - so unimaginably close - and he clutched your warmth upon his own. “God,” He breathed, his cheek slumped upon the crown of your head, down-tilted, and soaked with the cold of splattered rain. “I love you.” 

Arms draped across his middle, clutched upon his lower back - you ached from the cold, though you minded it not - as you smiled, and you breathed the only response you felt acceptable. “I know.” You said. 

“And I’ll give you the sun.” He continued, a mere rumble upon the quiet noise. “Indulge me, and I’ll give you the sun, ray, by fucking ray.” 

Oh, how you ached for such sonerous truth - for you knew he would never lie to you. 

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Crossword Clues & Coffee - Four Down

Summary: A chance encounter in Lebanon’s finest (read: only) diner leads Dean to find the one thing he never knew his life was missing.

Warnings: Tiny bit of language? Angst. LOTS of sass. Honestly, it’s a lot of fluff. No romance.

Author’s Note: Many thanks to @there-must-be-a-lock for always-masterful revision and editing advice, and to @thoughtslikeaminefield for encouragement and flails. I think we all need something a little more light-hearted these days, so here you go.

I AM SO SORRY, I THOUGHT I POSTED THIS FIVE DAYS AGO!!!

Word Count: 729

In Case You Missed It: CC&C: One Across | Two Down | Three Down | Three Across

ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Four Down

Esther turns out to have a wicked bluffing ability that gives Dean a run for his money every time they play cards. Poker, gin, rummy, any card game that involves mental skill rather than physical, finds Dean using every trick he’s ever learned and still relying on the luck of the draw more often than not.

“My husband Stanley taught me everything he knew from when he worked in Vegas,” she shares suddenly one night. She very determinedly does not look at Dean as she surveys the cards in her hand. She's only spoken of Stanley twice in the weeks they’ve been acquainted, and Dean has enough sense to keep silent.

“Not just tricks he used, but stuff he’d seen other folks trying on the dealers. I took to it like a duck to water, beat him most nights using his own tricks against him before he even figured out what I was doing,” she says, selecting Dean’s discarded five of spades and laying her hand triumphantly out on the table.

“Gin,” she declares, and Dean sighs. Well, if he’s going to be beaten, at least it's by a master of the craft.

Dean clears away their coffee cups and dessert plates while Esther slowly gathers up the playing cards. By the time he’s washed, dried, and put away the dishes, though, she’s still working on straightening the deck enough to fit it back into its special tin.

Dean frowns at the painful swelling in each of her finger joints, the tremor that’s noticeably increased just since their first meeting, and wonders how best to offer to help without offending.

“You gonna stare at the back of my head all night or offer to help a lady out?” Esther barks, amusement and irritation coloring her words. Dean takes the deck of cards carefully from her gnarled fingers and fits them into the tin, replacing the lid and settling back in his seat, frowning down at his own scarred but steady hands.

“Old age happens,” she says, her voice uncharacteristically soft, “for those of us lucky enough to make it.”

Dean considers her words for a long moment. He’s never told her what he actually does for a living, and he’s pretty sure she knew from their second meeting interrogation that he’s not telling her the whole truth about what he and his brother actually do with their lives.

But he thinks that she’s not necessarily talking about his livelihood, or, at least, not completely. He looks to the framed pictures hanging on every available inch of wall in the small dining room, a collection of photographs that circles the room, telling the story of Esther’s family.

A much younger Esther, recognizable even now, in a light-colored lace dress, on the arm of a grinning man in what is obviously his best suit.

The happy couple holding a baby.

The same couple with progressively changing hair and clothing styles and a rapidly growing child in photos with increasing color and quality as he follows the path of them around the room.

The child, Jimmy, grown and in a graduation cap and gown, hugging both his parents.

The young man, in a military uniform: a posed portrait. Esther and Stanley posed together, this portrait with a caption reading “Happy Fiftieth Anniversary, Sweetheart” in elegant script across the bottom.

Esther and Jimmy, solemn faced and black-clad next to a wreath bearing Stanley’s smiling portrait.

And finally, Esther not much younger than she is now but beginning to bend with the weight of age and grief, accepting a folded flag from a soldier in dress uniform.

There are no more pictures after that one. Dean understands, both from his own perspective and Esther’s. No point in taking pictures of yourself, of documenting a life without someone to share it.

Dean clears his throat, his eyes strangely misty, and places the card tin on the table between them. He reaches across the narrow space and places one large, warm hand atop Esther’s tiny, aged ones.

“Thank you for dinner,” he says quietly. Words are not his forte, but he needs her to understand, so he tries. “And for...everything. Sammy loves the pie, and he never eats anything sweet. And I’m pretty sure I’ve gained ten pounds this week alone.”

Her answering smile is both the happiest and saddest he’s ever seen on her.

...

Next: Five Across

[ihearthes]

Quarantine Christmas Part 1

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x y/n Rating: Fluff/Smut (Smut in Part 2) Word Count: 2826 (Part 1) Fiction Chalenge via @caitlin‘s fiction party via @sweetcreatureinthedark

December 23, 2020

My head spins as I haul my suitcase from the trunk, using two hands due to the heft of the dirty clothes inside. Setting it on the ground, I yank on the handle before grappling with the two shopping bags filled with presents, reaching back for the decorated Christmas tin that is filled with homemade cookies, fudge, and other delicacies baked by my colleagues at Apple Music. 

Wrestling with my hands full, I close the trunk with an elbow, shivering in the chilly LA air. At the front door, I want to cry. Dammit. I could clearly remember that when Glenne had given me the code for the front door and the alarm, I placed them in my phone under her contact information. 

“FUCK!” The primal scream is released from my lungs, likely scaring the neighbors if any of them are outside enjoying Christmas lights or having family celebrations on this Christmas Eve Eve. Balancing the tin of cookies on top of the suitcase, I set down the shopping bags to reach for my phone. My purse slips off my shoulder, knocking the container of sweets, and in the scramble to rescue them, I nearly fall head over heels into the bushes. 

It isn’t until I punch in the numbers and drag my personal effects inside that it occurs to me that the alarm isn’t armed. Had Glenne and Jeffrey forgotten to punch in the code before they left for Palm Springs? Deciding I don’t care, I leave everything by the door as I drag my suitcase to the main floor laundry room, dumping everything in without regard to color or type of clothing. Since we’ve been working remotely the majority of the time for the last fucking nine months, “dressing up” encompasses blue jeans and the occasional blouse, but most of my clothing is sweatpants and t-shirts. Deciding washing the blue jeans and blouses with the sweatpants and t-shirts is the worst idea ever, I fish those out before pouring laundry detergent over the remaining garments and starting the washer. 

Glancing down at the clothing currently on my body, it seems completely reasonable to drop them into the washer too. Stripping the t-shirt from my body, I toss it into the swirling water before adding my bra, socks, and leggings to the murky mix. Wearing only panties in the cool house makes my nipples bead. 

Ha! I’m sure my nips are happy to get any action after almost a year with no dating of any sort because of the fucking pandemic. Which reminds me that I’ve forgotten my vibrator at home. Shit. Of all the things I don’t mind borrowing from Glenne, I do have a line I won’t cross. 

Placing the tin of Christmas yummies on the kitchen counter, I grasp the handles of the two bags of gifts. It might be silly to put them under the tree since I’m the only one in the house, but it will make me feel better. More like I’m at home with my family in Indiana. Less like I’m stuck in quarantine in an empty house for my favorite holiday. Sniffling, I swipe at my nose with the back of my hand as I pad down the two steps into the living room to the tree. 

Kneeling at the fake tree, I reach for the switch to turn on the lights. As the colors begin blinking, I carefully withdraw each present, reading the tag before gently placing the gift under the tree. Even my brother had sent a present through the mail which must mean he misses me his year. Right now, we should be challenging each other to the most ridiculous games to see who is the best. Inevitably, he would win some while I beat him at others until eventually we declare a tie. My mother would chastise us both with a grin on her face, implicitly encouraging us to continue our “reindeer games” as my father called them. 

From behind me, I hear a shuffling sound. Hadn’t they taken Myles with them? No matter. I could use the company a dog would provide. 

“Santa, you’ve changed!” a soft voice exclaims, and I jump, twisting around to find another human wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. 

“It’s you!” Both voices exclaim simultaneously. “What the fuck are you doing here?” We both pause, “Stop saying what I’m saying!” 

Out of breath, I stare at him. The Harry Styles. Fuck. 

His eyes roam over my body, and it finally dawns on me that I’m wearing nothing but my Victoria’s Secret lace panties. Shit. 

Pacing measuredly to the couch without openly cringing, I grasp a wool throw and wrap it around my chest regally like I’ve just exited the pool at some exotic locale near the equator. My shoulders straighten, and I face him openly. 

“Are you joining Glenne and Jeffrey in Palm Springs?” My back is a board, and my tone is barely restrained. 

“Nope.” His nonchalance combined with his truncated answer pisses me off, per usual.

“So you’re flying home, waiting here for your flight tonight?” The hopeful tone is obvious to me and probably to him as well.

“No.” Those green eyes of his rake over my nearly-naked body, and I shiver. From the cold of course. Jesus. Get your heads out of the gutter!

“Watering the plants prior to returning to the Soho?”

“Uh uh.”

Delayed dread begins to fill my stomach. “You mean --” I clear my throat -- “you’re staying here?”

“Yep.”

“Shit.” Running my hand through my hair, I ponder the impact and my next steps. 

“You?” He asks politely, even though I know he doesn’t feel solicitude at this moment.

“Glenne told me I could stay here for a few days. I made arrangements for my place to be fumigated while I was in Indiana for Christmas.”

His raised eyebrow mocks me. 

“I’m not going, though. Okay?” 

“Why not?”

“Seriously? Where the fuck have you been, Styles? In case you didn’t know, there’s a global fucking pandemic, and all of Los Angeles is locked down. So no -- I am not getting on a plane with a bunch of potentially infected and contagious --” Emotion overwhelms me, and I have to stop and catch my breath. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I turn away from him so he can’t see the tears that form in my eyes. 

“Whatever, Smith.”

“My name --” I draw myself up and gather my anger around me like a cloak -- “is not Smith.”

“Yeah, right. Which bedroom are you planning to sleep in?”

“Surely you’re not suggesting we both stay here?” Appalled, I stare at him with my mouth open. “I’ll get a hotel room.” When I realize my wardrobe is in the washing machine, I softly say, “As soon as my clothes are dry.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t be ridiculous, Smith. We’ll share the space. It’s only a couple of days.”

“Excuse me!?” Anger wells up. “Only the most important days in the entire year!” Superiority makes me stand up fully to him. “Besides, I’ve been quarantining for months. No way do I want to share germs with you!”

“Oh please! As if you’ve got a monopoly on quarantining! I’m perfectly safe. We get tested every morning before we film. When was the last time you were tested?” 

“Two days ago!” She’s at her boiling point. “Look, if we're both staying here together, then we’re just going to have to avoid each other. It’s a big house. We can do that.”

“Maybe once you put some clothes on,” Harry comments, smirking in that way he has where the left side of his mouth tilts up. 

Mortified, I glance down at myself. Briefly I consider scurrying for Glenne’s closet, but I pause. Why should I rush away? Because he’s male? Because he was here first? Because he’s sexy as fuck and my panties can’t take anymore? 

“Fine,” I respond as I brush past him like the Queen of England. “I’ll find something to wear, and then we can hash out the details.”

“Great plan. I’m ordering something for dinner.”

My stomach growls, and I suddenly feel an irrational hatred for that part of my body. How I long to state that I’ve already eaten or that I plan to cook something! But alas, I’ve brought no food with me, and I’ve no clue what’s in the kitchen. If Glenne and Jeffrey even left anything. 

“Does that mean you’d like some too?” He gloats, and as much as I would like to smack the grin off his face, I’ve not eaten since a quick bite for breakfast hours before. 

Knowing I’m going to have to grovel, I face him. “I’m capable of ordering for myself.”

“Yes, but that’s not necessarily good for the environment, is it? Sending two drivers to the same address from different restaurants?” Pausing, he appears to swallow whatever snarky comment was forthcoming. “Can we agree on this one small thing? I’m thinking poke.”

Shit. Fuck. Goddammit. That’s exactly what I would have ordered. Fuck. 

Casually, I shrug. “Yeah, whatever. I can choke down some poke.” As I saunter away, tucking the ends of the makeshift shroud under my armpits, I call back to him, “Spicy please.”

Quickly I make my way to Glenne’s closet, surveying the items there. Ripping down a pair of joggers and a Full Stop Management hoodie, I drop the covering I’ve been wearing and rapidly draw the clothes over my naked body. Nothing I can do about not having a bra, but the hoodie is roomy so I worry less. 

In the bathroom, I run my fingers through my hair, combing out the curls as best I can in this environment. In no way do I want it to appear that I’m trying to look amazing for Harry. Biting my lip, I admit to myself that the opposite is true. I absolutely want him to fall at my feet. 

Which isn’t going to happen, I remind myself. Give up the ghost of a fantasy. 

Making eye contact in the mirror, I provide a pep talk for myself. “Listen,” I remind my reflection, “this is just one more fucked up situation in 2020. You’ve gotten through worse. It’s truly a giant house, so there’s no reason -- wait. Why is he staying here anyway?” For whatever reason, I had allowed him to dodge that incredibly simple question. 

Tucking my hands into the hoodie’s front pocket, I amble to the kitchen where Harry is just disconnecting his phone. 

“Food will be here in 45 minutes,” he promises. 

“Why are you staying here again? I missed your answer earlier,” I prompt. 

I’m confident I see a flash of embarrassment crossing his face as he lowers his head. “Wine?” He asks, gesturing towards the extensive rack of reds and then the chiller of whites. 

Unsure as to whether I should allow the diversion or press, I examine him. His eyes look tired and sad. His clothes, while comfortable, aren’t upbeat. Nor is his current demeanor. Is he okay? 

Planting his hands in his hoodie in an unconscious mimic of my pose, he glances at me before his eyes stray to the side, examining the marble countertop. That look tells me more than I need to know, and my empath side emerges as I toss him a life preserver. 

“With poke? I think perhaps a Reisling.” 

He nods, bending to look through the wines in the cooler before he extracts one, holding it up for me to inspect the label. My eyes start to widen at the vineyard, assuming the extravagant cost, but I calm my features. “Perf!” I declare. 

Grasping the wine opener from a nearby drawer, Harry removes the cork as I snatch two wine glasses from the cabinet and place them near him. Carefully comparing the amount in each glass, he pours enough before recorking the bottle. Taking my glass, I move into the living room where I can view the tree. It’s Christmas Eve Eve after all, and I refuse to be deterred from watching the lights twinkle and celebrating the season. 

Harry apparently has a similar idea as he fiddles with the sound system before a crackle of ‘Jingle Bell Drunk’ by RaeLynn starts playing which causes me to giggle. 

I settle on one side of the sofa, and Harry plants himself on the other side. Separately, we each take a sip of the riesling. My tongue does a happy dance at the flavor on my tongue. “This sweetness will cut the spicy quite well. Excellent choice.”

“You made the selection,” Harry reminds me, and I cringe. 

“Oh. Yeah.”

Silence descends as the song proclaims “I’ve been naughty. I’ve been nice.” 

“If there was ever a year for this song, this is it.” I announce into the quiet. 

“Yeah. It’s been quite the year.”

Sharply, I glance at him. Perhaps I had missed something? “Excuse me? You’ve had one hell of a year, Styles. Grammy nominations aside, there were how many music videos released during this global disaster? Plus a movie!”

“Agreed.” He’s quiet, his jaw clenched, and suddenly his words burst forth as though a gate at a dam has been opened. “But no tour. And almost no family time.”

Wait. Was this superstar feeling some of my emotions? He’d had a stellar year in anyone’s estimation. Maybe I could be more sympathetic. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry about tour. I had tickets to Vegas and one of the LA shows.”

His head swivels to me more swiftly than an owl focusing on prey. “You had tickets?”

“HAVE.” I swallow. “Thanks for not canceling by the way. I cannot imagine the bloodbath for getting tickets in the future. You’ve become the ‘it celebrity’.”

A blush is followed by a sheepish smile. “You can always get tickets, Smith. Just ask.”

“I don’t do that.” My voice is filled with the prickles that I feel at his words. 

“Do what?” 

“Use my privilege to get tickets to shows.”

“Oh. I…” His words trailed off. 

Suddenly, I feel less uncomfortable around him. Reaching out, I shove at his shoulder. “You’re a giant star, and you have a ton of fans who want to see you. Me? I’m just happy to be a member of the audience.”

“Really?” Incredulous is what I sense in that one word. “Why?”

“Seriously?” I’m appalled. “Do you not know what an amazing entertainer you are, Styles? Fuck. If I hadn’t been able to see your Fine Line show at the Forum last December, I probably would have cried. You know exactly what your audience wants, and you deliver it. Consistently.”

“But --”

“Hush. Don’t you dare negate your talent!” Taking another sip of wine, I reveal unabashedly, “Maybe it’s the wine talking, but I really enjoy your shows.”

“Smith?” He inquires, and my hand stalls with my wine glass halfway to my mouth.

“Yeah?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you like my shows?”

Stalling, I run a finger through my hair and empty my wine glass before holding it out to him. “More please?”

He rises, but I can read his reluctance. Within moments, Harry is back at my side, handing me a second glass of the riesling. I can’t help but notice that he’s topped his own off too. 

“Answer the question, Smith.”

“My name isn’t Smith. In fact, there’s not a single part of my name that’s related to Smith. Why do you call me that?”

“Tell me why you like my shows, and I’ll reveal the meaning behind the nickname.”

My head feels fuzzy from the wine and the headiness of being near Harry, and I watch the lights flashing on the tree for a few minutes while Meghan Patrick belts out her version of ‘I’ll Be Home for Christmas’ over the sound system. 

“You make your fans feel like they matter.”

“How?” His question comes rapidly, and I have to gather my thoughts. 

“You...talk to them. Listen to them. Watch them. Appreciate them. It’s rare, Harry. I mean, I’m in this business too, you know. Not every artist does what you do.”

“False.”

“I’m fucking serious, you asshole.” I gulp down more of the wine. “You make your audience feel like they’re your closest friends. I wish more artists did that. Specifically the ones I represent.”

“Oh.” His single utterance is enough, and we sit in pure tranquility for several minutes as the lights blink and Ava Max sings “Christmas Without You”. 

“Wanna watch the quintessential holiday movie?” I inquire, looking at him. 

“Which is?”

“Die Hard, of course,” is my response. “What were you thinking?”

“It’s a Wonderful Life.”

“Nope. It’s pretty good. In the top five for sure.”

“Wait. What are your top five?”

“Oh, that’s easy. ‘Die Hard’, ‘Home Alone’, ‘A Christmas Story’, ‘The Santa Clause’, and ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’.

“You’re serious?”

“Deadly?” I giggle at the joke since ‘Die Hard’ is full of death. 

“Fine. But we watch ‘Wonderful Life’ afterwards.”

“Deal.”

Part 2

[the-silentium]

11

Masterlist

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reincarnation!Reader

Words: 2755 words

Warnings: TUA season 1 and 2 spoilers, violence, blood, mention of torture, swearing, angst.

Requested by: @asphodelshare​

Hi! I read your Five fics and I like your style of writing! If it’s not too much to ask, could you write one where Five had to leave the reader back in the 2019 Apocalypse bc he didn’t have a choice. He then sees her 1963 counterpart, she doesn’t know him and he tries to stop himself from reconnecting w/ her but he can’t help himself. It’s up to you if it’ll end on a happy note or an angsty one! Xx

A/N: The Eternals are my personal touch, so I guess this should be considered an AU of some sort. I'm sure this wasn't what you thought would happen, I'll be frank, it wasn't what I thought either 😂 The end just wrote itself! And it wasn't what I had planned. Ouups. 

He tried. Really, he tried. Ever since the first time he saw you walking in the street wearing a school uniform, a school bag hanging loosely on your shoulder and a lunchbox in hand, Five had had a hard time resisting his need to run to you and hug your form with all his might. Granted, Five had no proof that the girl walking away from him was this time-line version of you, she could simply be a perfect replica of your 15 years old self with the same habit of drawing on her school furniture, the same bright smile and the same bewitching laugh. Yes, she was just a replica. A too perfect replica. 

Five forced his legs to take him away from her walking form and tried to push the girl at the back of his mind. He had to concentrate on his task to stop the new apocalypse and return back in 2019 where he left you. 

It never was in the plan to let you die under the meteor shower that ravaged the Earth, if anything you were at the top of his list of people he had to save. Unfortunately Five came to the conclusion that the past was a place way too dangerous for you to venture, add this to the Commission who would surely double down their effort to kill the Hargreeves and whoever helped them, your chances of dying in the past were way too high for his liking. The boy would never be able to live with himself if you were to die permanently in the past and not for only a few days in 2019. 

For a whole day, Five managed to forget about the girl and his feelings altogether. Alongside Diego, he broke into their father's company building and discovered some precious information. The part of the night involving the younger Pogo let him a bitter taste in his mouth but it didn't stop him in the slightest. Back at Morty's, Five was almost surprised to find his brother still breathing on the couch, his new partner in crime cauterizing his bullet-wound. 

"Did you cut yourself shaving? I can teach you to shave like a big boy." Sighing the boy put a gaze to the bleeding scratches burning his neck. All he could hope now was that Pogo didn't give him Herpes B. 

"No, I just ran into an old family friend." Five turned around towards the kitchen in hope of finding a perfectly brewed coffee pot. He groaned in disappointment when he noticed that not only was the coffee pot empty, but Elliott wasn't tied in the chair anymore. 

"You untied him?" Five shot Lila a brief glance before returning his attention to his surroundings, listening attentively to any sound allowing him to pin-point the man's location. 

"No. Was I supposed to?" 

Ignoring her question, Five made his way to the rooms down the hallway. He never ventured there before, he assumed that the three doors lead to a bedroom and some storage rooms filled with conspiracy theories just like the living room. Turns out he was partially right. 

Elliott's bedroom was empty, the bed still undone. The next door opened on a black room with pictures hanging on the walls and dyeing material placed neatly. 

From behind the last door, Five could hear two distinct muffled voices. He recognized the first one as Elliott's but the second one made him frown in concentration. It sounded familiar even though he never really talked to anyone from this time-line other than Lila and Elliott. 

Confused, Five opened the door, not prepared at all to see you standing in front of a seated Elliott, the two of you arguing in hushed voices. The cracking door alerted you, your angry gaze instantly found him, standing in your doorway with his mouth slightly opened in shock like an idiot. 

Five gulped as you made your way to him, there was no way that she wasn't you. Not only did she look exactly like you, but her pissed-off expression was the same as the you he knew. Your fists were tight at your sides, no doubt giving you the courage to not back down before him, your furrowed brows created little wrinkles that Five desperately wanted to ease away by a light stroke of his fingers and your eyes. Oh your eyes. How he had missed their spark. 

“Who are you?” You harshly asked while poking his chest with your delicate finger. 

Five had a hard time keeping his arms to his sides, preventing them from pulling you into a tight hug that you were sure to hate. Instead, he breathed in deeply in an attempt to calm his frantic heart. “E- What are you doing here?” He mentally cursed the slight waver in his voice, then again, you tended to have that effect on him. 

“I live here. Why are you here?” 

He was at a loss of words and couldn't help but stare at you in disbelief. You lived here?

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” Elliott stood up, his anxiety showing in the form of a hand scratching the back of his neck. “This is my daughter Y/N. Y/N this is- this is- eh. He’s one of them.” 

You even had the same name! It finally clicked into Five's head. He had heard of the rare phenomenon back in his days at the Commission, someone extremely important to the balance of the time-line would reincarnate after each one of their deaths to keep the time-line on track. Those very few, only eight in the whole world, were constantly chased by the Commission who in the beginning tried to discover the secret of their perpetual rebirths but then changed their goal to killing them as soon as they could when they discovered that the reincarnations could remember their past and future lives. Five had always thought that the Eternals, as the Commission called them, were just a story created by bored time analysts to kill time. 

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, a small smile slipped out of his control at the perspective that this was really you right in front of him, his best friend, his confidant, his partner in crime and the object of his affection. 

“The name’s Five.” So far you didn’t seem to remember him. Maybe you were too young or it was too soon. He had no idea how your condition worked.

"I don't care, asswad. You and your friends tied my father to a chair-" Five's heart stopped at the insult modern you used to call him all the time when his shitty attitude managed to get on your nerves. As much as he hated the nickname, he couldn’t help the rush of excitement he felt when he heard it. You may be starting to remember your future even if you were unaware of it.

"He tried to shoot us." Five deadpanned quickly remembering why they tied the man in the first place. 

"You are in our house!"

"He invited us in." Okay, this one was a lie. Five had space-jumped in first, but then Elliott hadn't kicked him out so he would consider it as an invitation to stay.  

"Dad!" You turned to the embarrassed grown-up, disbelief written all over your face. 

Five decided to let them argue alone and go control his ever growing feelings somewhere else, preferably somewhere you were not. Walking back to the kitchen to finally make himself some coffee, Five thought about how he could help you remember who you were- no, will be. 

“What’s the beeping?” Lila’s voice broke through his reasoning, catching his attention when she poked the computer screen. 

Five made his way toward the machine, a grin stretching his lips. “Vanya.” In a second he jumped away, carrying on with his plan to gather his siblings.

It was only two days later that he saw you next. You were eating your breakfast while quickly scribbling on a poor paper sheet, your foot bouncing rapidly on the floor as the seconds passed. Five was watching you over his warm cup of coffee, swiftly averting his gaze whenever you would lift yours. An elbow hit his shoulder, almost causing him to lose his balance and fall on the floor, wasting his precious black liquid. 

“What?” Five snapped at Luther after making sure his drink didn’t spill over his hand. 

“Why is Y/N here?” His whispering was not subtle at all although luckily for the blue-eyed boy, the sizzling eggs covered the excessive sound. 

Five went to his brother’s side, turning his back to you in the meantime. “She’s not the same Y/N. Well, she is but-” He groaned at the complexity of the situation. His brother would definitely not understand, so he went with the easy way out. “Long story short, this is her past life. Now stop talking abou-” 

“Oh, hey even your little girlfriend made it here.” Diego joined the conversation without a care in the world. He grabbed a plate along with some toast before dropping them at Five’s outburst.

“She’s not my girlfriend!” He could feel his body heating up despite his best efforts. 

All three of them tensed for their own reasons yet they all not so subtly turned their heads in your direction. If looks could kill, they would definitely be at the verge of death. 

“I’m not his girlfriend.” Five just received his killing blow. 

You hurriedly grabbed your bag under the table and rushed out of the room, paper in hand. The silence following your exit permitted your last words to bounce in his head, hurting his feelings like nothing before. If he could gauge the pain he felt at this right moment on a scale of 1 to 10, he would say that without a doubt this was a 10. 

What you said was the plain truth. In any lives of yours did you and him became a thing. It didn’t stop the fact that after all these years suppressing his romantic attraction toward you, Five had nurtured the hope that maybe one day, you two could be more than friends. Today this hope just blew up in his face, mauling his heart in the process.

So in the blink of an eye, the boy disappeared from the kitchen to live his pain alone, away from prying eyes and the pity of his brothers. 

Later that same day, Five was nursing his seventh cup of steaming coffee of the day when someone sat next to his own spot on the second floor, legs dangling in the air where the floor stopped to show the once TV shop. He sipped on his coffee as an attempt to show them that he wasn’t interested in the slightest in what they had to say, needless to say that it didn’t work. He should be used by now, it never worked.

“I’m impressed that you didn’t die from a heart attack or something. Your blood pressure should be pretty high with all the coffee that you drink in a day.” He nearly choked on his sip when your soft voice reached his ears. 

He turned to you, baffled to see you smirking at him. Not angry. Not annoyed. Playful. "You know, if you weren't from the future and weren’t endangering my father by your mere presence here, I would have loved to be your friend." 

Just when Five thought that he couldn’t be surprised anymore! "How do yo-?"

"Klaus doesn't stop talking about how he misses youtube." The boy sighed, clearly his brother couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He wondered if sewing his mouth shut would suffice to shut him up for good. Knowing Klaus, he would definitely find a way to express himself without his mouth. “Also I remember you, asswad.” You bumped his shoulder with yours before crossing your arms on the railing before you and resting your head on them. 

His eyes went wide, the meaning of your words slowly registering into his brain. He turned to you, trying in vain to not get his hopes up about your remembrance. A very genuine smile stretched your lips, making Five almost drop his mug on the floor below. He then realized that if you could remember your future life, then you surely remembered your future death and with it, how Five abandoned you to your demise. Guilt pulled at his heart at imagining what you went through because of him and fear darkened his heart at the thought that not only your past self would hate him but your modern self too. 

Something on his cheek caught his attention, the delicate stroke of your fingers awoke a fire under his skin when he noticed your gesture and the concerned frown disturbing your perfect features. This time around he couldn’t stop himself and reached forward, smoothing the creased skin with a light brush of his fingertips. 

“I’m sorry.” His hand dropped in defeat at his side, his gaze fleeing yours. 

“What for?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“I abandoned you to die.” His voice was so small, saying it aloud made him doubt his choice. He closed his eyes tightly to keep the tears away, his remorses started eating him alive. 

You moved closer and took the mug out of his hand when it was within your reach. You disposed of it before wrapping your arms around his waist and put your chin on his shoulder. He didn’t open his eyes, instead closing them tighter to the point that he started to see stars dance behind his eyelids. 

“You.” You blowed on the side of his face. Once. Twice. “Hey you. Open your eyes.” You sighed when he merely relaxed his facial muscles but kept his eyes shut. “I understand you know? You had to. I’m not mad.” 

You proceeded to poke his cheek when the absence of reaction on his part was starting to get on your nerves. “I’m talking to you, asswad!”

You gasped when Five suddenly turned his head to the side and connected his lips to yours with force. His hands found the side of your face to keep you close when his lips moved with yours in a desperate motion, as if you would vanish at any seconds. At one point, the kiss stopped tasting coffee, a salty taste replacing the strong addicting aroma.

Slowly Five pulled away to discover tears running down your cheeks. His first reaction was to close his hands into fists wanting to jump away and remove his damned heart from his chest with his bare hands. As the blue waves flowed around his fists, your lips stretched in a smile stealing his breath. 

"Took you long enough." Your almost imperceptible whisper was so loud in his ears. 

A smile mirroring your own formed on his face, he was beyond the moon all the while asking himself how he could have been so stupidly blind to your feelings. 

"We got there, that's what's important." You hummed in agreement before repositioning your head on his shoulder and contemplating what next. 

A few days passed and Five along with his siblings met their father. Needless to say that it went down pretty quickly. For some odd reason, Five found himself thinking that it could have been worse. Someone could have died. Or hurt. Everyone was in one piece if we didn't count Diego's soul. 

Space-jumping back at Morty's, Five thought that he was horribly wrong. Elliott's body laid in a chair obviously having been tortured before being executed. As much as the boy wanted to feel bad for the man who played such a great role helping him reach his goal, every thought that passed through his mind was directed at you. 

Five yelled your name before jumping from room to room before he noticed a crimson red trail leading to the black room. 

His shaking hand grabbed the handle of the slightly opened door, pushing it with a shaky breath escaping his lungs. 

If it wasn't of your school uniform you were wearing, Five couldn't have said for sure that this broken body was yours. The obvious torture you went through got him on his knees, water pooling from his eyes like two rivers. 

He was wrong. So dearly wrong. This, right now, was the worst pain he ever felt. He didn't even have to open his chest to relieve himself of his excruciating pain for his heart had completely stopped at the agony scaled to 11.

[legionofpotatoes]

I love your art, it is very detailed in a neat way. Was wondering how you got started making it as a source of income? How did you get your first paid work, I'd love some advice on how to get started, if that's ok

Thank you. Of course it's okay, although I doubt I have enough work experience in art to really delve into this. I only went full freelance this year, and had been juggling art as a side hobby until then. If you're still interested in my somewhat narrow perspective, and are okay with my long-winded rambles, I'll give it a shot:

So to answer your question fully, I'll describe how I started and move into personal advice and learnings later on. As a disclaimer, I am a white cishet dude in my late twenties with a moderate cocktail of mental illnesses, but overall I can pass for a functioning adult so a lot I have to say may come laced with privilege I cannot fully identify.

So uhh I began drawing in around 2012? I think? Maybe halfway through 2011? And I mostly made fanart for things I enjoyed and tried to branch out in communities that felt nourishing to my style and interests (I caught a bug for alt posters and enjoyed mainstream movies so I spent a long time on posterspy early on). There were a handful of opportunities that came from there but I could only accept a couple because of primary workplace commitments. Still, it showed that networking in a focused community was definitely a good place to start; I myself have huge trouble committing to social networks and really staying socially active, but I knew it was an essential ingredient in succeeding so I tried to make myself be involved in challenges and art support trains etc. as much as I could.

In parallel to all that I also ran a few third party online stores (redbubble, teepublic) for disposable income and would sometimes, if rarely, hit around $100-150 a month from those sources combined. It is a sort of thing that requires helper accounts on other social media sites to promote it on, because the stores themselves have a huge volume of content that translates into low organic discoverability. Obviously it was never gonna be the way towards financial independence through art, and with community projects being few and far between, I opened private commissions in around uhhh 2017 I think, focusing on offering a few styles I knew I could do well, and sometimes operating in individual fandoms (it was mostly a bioware thing to be frank). But I had to close them back down after a year or so, again because of work-life conflict and how badly it was burning me out. The reason I kept trying to monetize this hobby is because I honestly hated what I did for my main job and wanted to see a way out in some shape or form in the future.

And then in 2020 I had to quit my main job altogether because of *gestures at pandemic* and deal with a mental breakdown from all the wonderful things it did to us and me specifically. I took a short break and decided to give art a shot full-time, and that was around May this year. I was planning on opening up commissions again (and I still am), but a few sudden opportunities that fell in my lap moved that timetable down and now I'm grateful to even be doing something I am getting adequately paid for.

So, with that somewhat limited perspective, here's what I've learned that I'd tell myself if I was just starting out:

1. Being a fan of something can be a shortcut towards effective networking kickoffs. Which are important evidently. If you love something and enjoy making content for it, join communities, settle into a combination of social media websites that feel right for those interests + your body of work + your inner rhythm, and try to play to content discovery as much as your mental health allows you to. Like I said, I know that I myself am incredibly bad at self-motivating to talk to people, so I found that synergizing common interests into fanart - which I enjoyed making anyway - could be a way to give myself a gentle nudge forward and build those bridges leading to community activities, which then net experience and coverage. Sometimes even freelance projects from official avenues. Again; picking the right spaces for what you're after is key. Companies roam twitter, concept art recruiters scour artstation or linkedin etc, instagram can land you private commissions and collab opportunities, so on and so forth. Find your niche and try to kick up dust. However...

2. I do not believe that any social profile can replace a good portfolio. The thing that made an immediate difference to me this year was building a coherent, simple website with my best work front and center and a contact form on top. Every single opportunity I got came from that form (maybe via twitter or instagram initially, but always sealing the decision after going through the website), so I firmly believe that showcasing your skills and portfolio in a visually arresting and user-friendly way is a big priority. I had some reservations about tackling that task but fortunately I had help from a savvy life partner and we slapped it together via wordpress in less than a day. Twitter/whatever social media is prevalent in your target groups is definitely important to get the right eyes on your shit, yes, but those eyes will then look for a second stop where your work and rates are more clear and concise. Simplicity is key imo, I cannot overstate this. So make a cute, simple portfolio!

3. Your skills and rates will grow and change as you do. Let them. Over the years I built several lasting professional relationships from my obsession over mass effect and kept getting opportunities both from bioware and their partner companies, some small and some a bit bigger. A one-off job earlier this year opened an unexpected door to another much larger commitment, and then the work I did there brought some attention from small businesses looking for commercial commissions. These were all incredibly different projects in terms of scope and budget, and I've been tackling them all on a case-by-case basis and slowly coming into my own irt my needs, rates, and SOW thresholds. It is still a work in progress (and a LOT of literal work as well), and very much a thing I struggle with in publicly marketing, which is why I felt a tad underqualified to answer your question in the first place (obviously I did not let that stop me). But what it means for me now is that I am rapidly developing into whatever my "version" of a functioning freelance artist is, and when the conditions for that guy are met, I need to be able to confidently plant myself and operate from that space despite past precedents. Do not let anyone bully you into downpricing what you yourself perceive as legitimate products of personal growth and development. Speaking of which...

4. The shitty challenge of turning envy into inspiration, and paddling outside your comfort zones in full riot gear. it is hard, but realizing that being a miserable, self-hating artist in my early days got me nothing but more misery back was the first real step I took and what truly blew the hinges off. I was just not pleasant to be around, I would badmouth my work all the time, and it all somehow made sense in my broken mind because the validation I sought was purely external and the way I sought it was through eliciting sympathy via self-victimization (even when I made something objectively nice). It all led fucking nowhere. Except perhaps to my own narcissism that I one day managed to identify and start managing. So I started looking at things that made me seethe with envy and calmly deconstruct and figure out their inner workings instead, do studies, and find nuggets of inspiration or discover new ways to approach rendering or building up specific elements. It was an application of analytical diligence to what I wanted to be a purely emotional, esoteric workflow, but that I deep down knew wasn't. Art is a discipline and a skill, and maybe it isn't a straight line, but you gotta find some line to thread nevertheless. Being self-hating was almost an identity I had to break out of, and despite it still being like, 4-5% there? I realize its cause and effect on me, my work, and those around me, so it is with a conscious choice that I gently set it aside when I work and especially when I learn. It won't always stay quiet, but the effort is the difference. Your doors towards accepting true growth and venturing into uncharted territories, art styles, and networking will really open from there. But there's a huge caveat...

5. Toolsets, accessibility, privilege, and all the good things that enable artistic expression and profitability are not given equal to all. you might do all the mental work I mentioned to be ready to rock and roll and learn and draw your way out of anything, but digital art is a fucking money pit that asks almost too much at times. I don't got a good case study here but identifying and ensuring accessibility to the tools you need to do your best work is, like, super important. The ergonomics can improve as you make money and settle into the job, but the basics have to be made available to you. And some of that might not even be under your direct control. That can be anything from pen tablets to software subscriptions to opportunities in hiring sullied by sexism or what have you. You gotta navigate all that through careful networking and money/time management. I don't do a good job of devoting specific slices of time to work/study, and my primary clutch is iPad software which went from a good deal to a nightmare scenario over the years. So all I can say here is do what I didn't; network, invest in a PC/tablet, and pick a software you'll learn that won't burn a hole in your pocket.

6. Be nice to work with? This one is hard to articulate and has landed my own ass in hot water in my early years because of how socially inept I am, but nothing is more worthwhile than being.. like. a good person to work with. That can be anything like meeting deadlines, or sometimes missing them but eloquently articulating why, being generous in early stages, being communicable and not too wordy in your emails, having a good grasp on abstract artistic concepts and how to describe them in simple terms, having a clear, laid out framework of your working rates in commercial and non-commercial projects and sticking to those guns with grace, understanding when you need to say no and saying it well, the works. Just being nice. Sometimes that might mean going headstrong with something you believe in, or simmering down and sucking up to the big man, all relative and adaptive. Part and parcel of the service provision dance that we all have to do in order to make bank. Know your lines here, obviously, and don't like. work for nazis. or uh.. *shudders* exposure. but be nice and empathetic and communicable and word will travel eventually. Skill may be in abundance these days, but good people are most certainly not, and capitalism has a way of bubbling up scarcity. Grim, but uh, them's the breaks.

I know I'm ultimately telling you to like. Have a body of work, make a portfolio, grow, and network. But that's really how I see it for now. And being nice can be a cherry on top that sets you apart, along with the inherent irreplaceable voice of your artwork. I think I rambled on enough, but if there is something specific you need my help with, even if you want to come off anon and talk in private, please feel free.