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steventhusiast · 2 years

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What if Steve and Eddie knew each other and were dating before everything happened with the Upside Down, but no one knew? What would the aftermath of Eddie’s death look like for Steve?

Also on AO3

It had been two days since their fight with Vecna. The fight that they’d won. But Steve didn’t feel like he’d won.

He felt like he’d lost everything.

“This is Slingshot. Come in, Babysitter, are you still driving us to the school today? over.”

“I don’t think Steve’s on the supercoms right now, Lucas… Over.”

“Hey! You were the one who said we had to use codenames, use your codename, Gold Leader! Babysitter, do you copy? Over.”

“Right… This is Gold Leader. I haven’t heard from Babysitter in a few days. Over.”

“What crawled up your ass, man? Over.”

The kids had been a source of non-stop chatter on the supercoms pretty much from the moment everyone had separated a day and a half ago. Dustin was definitely more subdued than usual, but Steve understood that on a level none of the kids were aware of. He knew he should reply, let them know he was in fact alive and ready for their plans later in the day, but he just couldn’t.

For the past twelve hours he hadn’t moved from his spot in bed; he lay on top of his sheets, still topless and coated in grime and bandages and dried blood, curled in on himself in an attempt to find comfort in the fetal position. In his hands, he gripped onto bloodied denim that he knew well. He hadn’t actually managed to let go of the denim vest since everything happened. It was either being worn, or being caressed, or being cuddled, or just held.

There was familiarity in holding it, even when its owner was nowhere to be found. Steve found himself thumbing over the uneven stitches at the edge of patches, just letting his hands fidget with what used to be his favourite piece of clothing Eddie owned. It just had so much of him in it. It was haphazard and rushed and focused more on cramming as many pins, cutouts and patches on as possible than on laying things out nicely. It was a little much, just like Eddie was. Steve didn’t like the addition of blood to it.

With a sigh, Steve closed his eyes, let his grip on the jacket tighten slightly, and imagined Eddie was still there, still wearing it. In his imagination all the dried blood was gone, and the only grime to be found were sauce stains. He imagined that Eddie was lying opposite him, curled onto his side too, hair splayed out on the pillow under his head and his arms curled up to his chest. Eddie would always lay like that, letting his eyes drink up Steve’s appearance every time like he’d never seen him before, occasionally ring-covered fingers coming up to trace over the freckles and moles that littered Steve’s face. But Eddie would never do that again.

Steve’s lips, that had slowly formed into a ghost of a smile, dipped into a frown again. His lips pursed without his permission, and he felt the traitorous stinging behind his eyes again. He told Eddie not to be a hero.

He opened his eyes, and slowly dragged his line of sight to the left pocket. His hands shook a bit, and his eyes started to blur, but he didn’t pay that any mind as he fumbled with the jacket to look at the inside of it, fingers searching for the back of where that left breast pocket was. Where he knew there was pink thread embroidered, the outline of a heart with a little ‘S’ in the centre– his pointer finger found it, and his vision blurred even more as a tear escaped. (“Gotta put the key to my heart over my heart, Stevie.” Eddie had said when he’d first shown Steve the messy stitches. He’d been smirking proudly, even as Steve rolled his eyes. “Okay, milady. Pretend you hate it, I see that blush.”).

Steve sniffed harshly, and let one hand come away from the denim to wipe at his face.

He had two hours before he had to leave to pick up Dustin, Lucas, Mike and Will. He hoped they would be fine cramming themselves in the backseat, because Robin was coming with them too. No way would Steve be able to get through the day without his birdie there at least.

She had a way of just knowing when he needed her unwavering support. She’d be there for him, and not ask questions if he told her not. Even if she didn’t know what was going on, or why he was being the way he was.

None of them knew, really.

As far as the party was concerned, Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson first officially met that night in the boathouse, when Eddie held a broken bottle up to Steve’s neck. They’d never had a chance to really become friends. But that wasn’t the truth.

The truth was Steve and Eddie had properly known each other for about a year.

(Steve’s hands shook slightly as he drove toward the quarry. After a gruelling nightmare that left him feeling wide awake and wired, he gave up entirely on sleep and decided to go and watch the night sky until the sun rose.

The quarry and its quietness had always been a source of peace for him, and at—he glanced at his watch for a split second—three in the morning, he didn’t expect anyone else to be at the quarry.

So imagine his surprise when he pulled up next to a beat up van, and glanced out toward the cliff’s edge to see someone laying back with his legs carelessly hanging over the edge, a half-smoked joint in hand.

He sighed, but got out of the car anyway. Those moonlit dark curls looked somewhat familiar, so he felt safe doing so despite the time. He always had the nail bat in his car if the person ended up being not so friendly.

The sound of his car door shutting meant suddenly there were eyes on him, the curly haired man tilting his head back on the ground so he could squint at him.

“Harrington..?” The figure mumbled, squinting a little harder, “Why’re you upside down, man?”

Steve couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him, and he walked closer to sit down cross legged by the stranger. He finally got a better look at him, the moonlight and lit spliff held up to the man’s face letting him recognise him. Not a stranger after all, but Eddie Munson, the school’s resident drug dealer.

“Ohhh you’re rightside up again, haha..” Eddie spoke to himself, relaxing back into the ground and letting his eyes go back to the sky.

“Munson, right?” Steve checked. He got a half smirk in response, and a raised eyebrow.

“The king knows who I am? Colour me flattered.”

Steve scoffed.

“Hardly a king anymore.”)

Talking to Eddie was easy, especially at night with the help of some weed. They were fast friends. And for about six months, Steve and Eddie had been more than friends. They became SteveandEddie. Inseparable. But different to how Steve and Robin were SteveandRobin. In his head, Steve had started to call Eddie his soulmate. He didn’t even think he believed in that kind of stuff, but he felt it deep within himself that he and Eddie were meant to know each other. Had always been fated to know each other like that.To love each other.

He wished he’d gotten over himself and told all his friends. Wished the new, tentative part of himself he’d discovered eight months ago hadn’t terrified him so deeply he couldn’t even talk about it with his platonic other half. Robin didn’t even know he’d had a sexuality crisis, let alone that he was mooning over Eddie Munson. She didn’t even know Steve knew Eddie Munson! But Steve wished Robin got to see his goofy smile that was strictly reserved for Eddie, wished she’d gotten to know Eddie because he just knew in his heart they’d be great friends. Just like how he knew in his heart that none of the party would care that he was dating a boy, and hadn’t told them anyway.

And now he was well and truly alone. No one knew he and Eddie had been together, no one knew they’d been friends, no one knew Steve was being eaten alive by grief. They all just wanted him to continue on, business as usual. Didn’t and wouldn’t understand that he wasn’t doing okay.

He huffed as his two-way radio came to life again.

“This is Birdie, I’m on my way to Babysitter HQ. You better not leave me hanging, dingus. Over.”

At least it was Robin this time, not one of the kids. He willed himself to sit up and reach over for the device.

“This is Babysitter. I copy, Birdie. See you soon.” His voice sounded rough and dull to his own ears, but as soon as he stopped sending, the radio lit up with noise again, so he held the push-to-talk button down again for a moment, “Over and out.”

And then he turned the radio off, because he had about twenty minutes before Robin got there, and his room and his person was a mess. He glanced down at the vest he still held with one hand and wondered if he could shower without letting go of his piece of Eddie.

(He couldn’t, not if he wanted to keep Eddie’s smell on the fabric, but he could keep it in his sight the whole time.)

Tap. Tap. Tap-tap. Tap.

Robin did their stupid secret knock on the front door just as Steve decided he didn’t have the energy to go through his hair care routine. He ran a hand through it, sighed, and went downstairs, vest in hand still.

As he got to the bottom of the stairs, Robin started up again, harsher this time.

Knock. Knock. Knock-knock–

He narrowly avoided getting punched in the face as Robin went to finish the knocking pattern. She blinked at him, taking in his appearance, and then promptly squinted at him in suspicion.

“What gives?” She asked, gently pushing on his chest so that he walked backwards and she could enter the Harrington household.

“What?” Steve frowned at her. He hadn’t even said anything to her yet, and she was already asking questions.

“Your face is all-” She gestured at him nonsensically, “-wrong.”

With a sniff, Steve shrugged and attempted to stand a little taller, hoping she hadn’t noticed the bundle of denim hanging from one hand.

“Trauma response, or whatever.” He explained half-heartedly, but Robin just levelled him with a look that said ‘I see through whatever you’re trying to do right now’.

“Even after being tortured by Russians you still did your hair everyday. What, now you’ve been… Now you’ve been attacked by a couple of bats, you can’t do your hair anymore? This was like, way less individually traumatising than last time. And you’re not even concussed this time! So what gives?”

He looked at the floor, shifted his grip on the battle vest in his left hand, and motioned with his head toward the living room.

“Hey, is that Eddie’s–”

“Sit down, Robbie.” Steve cut her off, sitting on the loveseat couch stiffly and gesturing next to him. He didn’t want her to ask like that, wanted to tell her instead.

Evidently, he wasn’t going to get through the day without anyone knowing what was going on. And Robin should have known long ago.

“I’m bisexual.” He blurted out, his thumb finding the sewn on heart again in the fabric.

“Okay.” Robin drew out the word, looking at him as she clearly tried to figure out why he looked so broken up about it, “Did you discover that over this last week or something? You look like you’re not doing so hot. You know that being bi is, like, fine, right? I can find you some zines if you drive me to Indi some time, there’s a bunch of these little stores that sell–”

The tiniest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Steve’s mouth. He loved Robin’s rambles. But he had to cut her off before she talked herself into a whole new conversation.

“I.. Figured it out about,” He paused, thinking back to when he first had a breakdown over the fact he wanted to kiss Eddie, “Eight months ago.”

It was quiet for a moment, and then Robin made an offended noise.

“You didn’t think you could talk to me about it?” Her voice was quiet, and she leaned into his side a little as his expression stayed somber.

“No, I just.. I don’t know. It was new. We were gonna tell you eventually, but…” He trailed off, and Robin raised her eyebrows.

“We?” She parrotted. “Who’s ‘we’?”

“Me and Eddie.” His voice had practically reached a whisper at that point, and his grip on the denim tightened as he looked down at it. The Motörhead patch was suddenly a lot more interesting to look at than Robin’s face was.

He didn’t even need to look at her to know the expressions she was going through as she processed his words and what they meant.

“You two were…?” She hesitated to ask, and Steve’s throat suddenly felt extremely tight. Like if he tried to get a word out, a scream would escape instead. He nodded.

“Oh Stevie,” Finally, she fully leaned into him and wrapped both arms around him from the side, “I’m so sorry.”

She was whispering, but it didn’t matter. Because his birdie was there, not asking any more questions because she knew it would break him. Because her head was on his shoulder, and she was rubbing circles into him the way she always did when they hugged, and Steve finally found it easy to let himself feel the emotions he’d been pushing back since he saw Dustin crying over his boyfriend’s body and gripping onto his guitar pick necklace. His vision was blurring again, and his throat felt unbelievably tight, but Robin was there to hold him together as he broke apart.

He just wanted his Eddie.

He finally let go of the vest to wrap his arms around his best friend and grip on for dear life. He finally let himself cry.

#steve harrington whump #steddie #(technically)#stobin #platonic stobin #stobin friendship #eddie munson #steve harrington #st #st4 #stranger things #haven't written in a while #sorry if it's shit #mywriting

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dreamerwriternstargazer · 6 months

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Soooooo..... this is the piece I submitted for my assignment and uh idk it actually meant something to me how weird XD so I'm posting it on here because before everything else this blog was supposed to be a place for me to take my first steps as a writer and that still applies; this is my little journal ^_^ my commonplace notebook, or rather an extension of it (since I do also have a journal with me all the time anyway ^_^)

The extract is fairly short, we had a word limit of 900 words and of course I hit exactly 900 + 10%, also in case you didn't see my previous posts yes this will have emotional scenes and references to sexual assault, rape and abduction, not very long but the small sections are graphic. Read at your own discretion

I stared in disbelief at the table before me. There was a big bouquet of pink and purple flowers in the middle, flanked by two trays of some multicoloured, vomit-like casserole from which wisps of sickeningly vegetable scented steam rose up. The dining places were set, one, two, three, with a small bunch of flowers tied with a ribbon on the middle of one of the plates.

The plate is set at the head of the table. Guest of honour.

“What... what is this?”

“We... we thought you might want a nice meal your first day home,” Mum says nervously, hovering beside me. “I baked a vegetable lasagna, your favourite remember?”

I frown, tugging at the soft, fluffy sleeves of my lilac dressing gown. I haven’t taken it off since I left the hospital. “I don’t remember. I’m more used to frozen pizzas and tv.”

“We also thought the flowers were a nice touch, you liked the colours when you were little,” Dad said brightly, pulling out the chair with one hand and taking one of mine to lead me to it. As though I needed help sitting.

All I do is sit. All I have done is sit for the past 9 years, except for when it was lying down. Or kneeling.

I slip my hand away and drop my gaze to the floor, tugging my fluffy hood over my head. “Can’t we just eat in front of the TV? I always ate in front of the TV with him.”

Mum sighs, it’s the shaky watery sigh, and I want to hit myself, and her.

No, don’t, that’s mum, she’s trying, she’s trying...

“April, the doctor said it would be better if we stayed away from the habits that you had when you were... away,” Dad says gently.

“Kidnapped you mean.”

He winces. “Please, can we not talk about it like that?”

“Like what? That’s what it was, I was kidnapped. That’s true, isn’t it?”

“We’re trying to move on,” Mum whispers.

“By making me food I don’t even remember? Put flowers in front of me like it’s a celebration? How does not talking about it make us move on, you just want to pretend like it didn’t happen.” I can hear Mum start to breathe shallowly and fast, and I see Dad’s grey slippers shuffle across the floor as he goes over to comfort her. Her. Not me.

“April, look up,” he says firmly. I don’t want to, so I pull my hood down further, focusing my eyes on the pattern of white stars on the inside. “April please, we’re doing our best. Can you please look at us?”

“Your best got me kidnapped.”

I hear Mum cry out at that. A small wail.

Idiot, you made Mum cry, she made you dinner and you made her cry. Just hang yourself already.

“That’s enough, you may have gone through... everything you have but that is no excuse to treat us like this.”

“Like what? You’re not the ones who got taken, you didn’t get raped every day, you didn’t get touched and licked and beaten black and blue, everything I’ve gone through.” I hate myself more with each word that falls out of my mouth, but I can’t stop, it’s overflowing from my head and spilling from my lips. “You aren’t the ones who got stuck in hospital after finally escaping, on the verge of dying. You aren’t the ones who are 20 years old, a full-fledged adult, with no choices, no life, no friends, and people you don’t know deciding everything, including your food like you’re still a baby, for you.” I don’t wait to hear their

reply, Mum’s sobbing too much and I turn and run, my fists balled up against the sides of my head as I slam down my feet on each step to my bedroom, trying to release my thunderstorm to drown out her misery.

************

In my room it’s easier to calm down, I can wrap myself up in the purple blankets on my bed and hide away from the world. This time I don’t want the comfort of wrapping myself up though.

I keep feeling this pain in my chest when I think about Mum crying, my heart caught in a beartrap and its cold, metal jaws snap round my heart, shocking and stabbing me all at once. I hit my head every time it happens, trying to distract myself from it, and because I deserve it. I don’t know how to not make her cry. I don’t know how to tell her how I feel... and not make her cry.

Knock knock. “April? It’s Mum, can I please come in?”

I stop hitting the sides of my head, surprised by how calm she sounds. “Yes.”

The door swings open as I resume rocking and hitting my head and I hear her gasp softly. I’ve never done this in front of her but this time I can’t stop. “Sweetie, can you look at me for a second?” She sounds so soft and kind.

When I don’t look up, she kneels next to me and looks up at my face, and her face makes the bear-trap pain worse, her eyes all soft and worried. “I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable, okay? And trying to baby you... I’m trying to take care of you and I’m... not very good.”

“You’re good.”

“What?” She looks confused.

“You’re good, you’re a good mum.” I’ve stopped rocking, and I’ve dropped my hands down to hold one of hers. “You’re not... bad. I’m... I just need you to listen to me?” The bear-trap starts to relax and loosen as I dare to look at her face. Her eyes are glassy again but she’s smiling, holding my hand tightly.

“Thank you.”

#star speaks #writers #writerblr #writers on tumblr #I'm aware it's probably trite and generic #I did weave some sincerity into it #well no #quite a lot #but also I stayed fairly detached and focused on it as a piece of technical writing #my attention on my language and writing rather than #the premise of the story #my apologies if you expected something... starstriking

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artekai · 1 year

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tag game (Horizon)

Thanks @nerd-artist for tagging me!! I am flattered :3

1. ride or die ship (your otp): GAIA/Lis ❤️ I felt so validated when Sylens said the "two moms" thing, you have no idea.

2. most annoying ship: I plead the fifth

3. second favourite ship: Erevad! I never considered them until I read a really good fic about them and I was sold lol.

4. favourite platonic relationship: Hmm 🤔 I really enjoy Aloy & Sylens :D I missed him a lot in HFW (given he wasn't in our Focus any longer). mlm-wlw hostility real. Also, Aloy & Gildun and Aloy & Morlund are both very sweet but I suppose they have similar vibes lol.

5. underrated ship: Any of the ones I mentioned lol, I feel like they don't get as much love as others, haha. Which is understandable because it makes sense to gravitate more towards the GAIA gang! But other than that 🤔 I think Aloy/Zo and Aloy/Alva are pretty cute and underrated, even if I don't exactly ship them myself c:

6. overrated ship: I plead the fifth

7. one thing i would change in canon: *side eyes HFW hard*

Just one thing, though? I'd have to concur with most of the people I've seen do this tag game so far and say it's Varl's death. I'm pissed about that.

8. something canon did right: Other people have also mentioned it before me, but I think Horizon's writing excels at the datapoints. Just slowly having to figure out the past, putting the pieces together, getting glimpses of the tragedies (and the little joys) that once happened in those places, filling in the blanks... The environmental storytelling is amazing 👌. The intrigue, the curiosity, the mystery. It really scratches the urge to explore abandoned places and imagine what it was life was like for the people who once lived in them, so close yet so far away. HZD really did it well with the Zero Dawn facilities and I think HFW captured that magic again with Thebes. I crave more of that.

9. a thing i'm proud of creating for the fandom PLEASE BRAG ABOUT YOURSELF I WANT TO SEE/READ YOUR ART: I'm not sure I can say anything I make is "for the fandom" since I only make OC stuff 😭 Believe me, I want to be more integrated in the fandom, but not as much as I want to focus on the blorbos from my brain 😔

I guess I can mention To Err is Human, my vampire AU fic, since, if all goes according to plan, that should be relatively fairly split between my OCs and canon characters. Sorry that it's taken me so long to update tho :( As for art, please look at my man :) And here he is again with my favorite Aloy I've drawn lol. I also still really like this one! Also this. And this. And this. And

I've realized I could go on all day actually so I'll stop myself now lol.

10. a character who is perfect to me (wouldn't change a thing): Sylens. I love him, crimes and all.

11. the character I relate to the most and why: Beta. Something something about characters who have the same neuroses as you but in their world their neuroses are justified (sigh). And Gildun! His quest in Burning Shores really grabbed me by the throat, oof. In some ways I also relate to Aloy but not as much, I think.

12. character(-s) i hate the most and why: Well, I could just name the usuals, Ted Faro, the Ceo, Lansra, etc. But they're the characters we're meant to hate, so, ironically, it doesn't feel right to say I hate them, you know? I appreciate a well-crafted villain, and I definitely appreciate their role in the narrative. So, do I really hate them? Yes but actually no.

It's like that one post that goes "I don't care if a villain is redeemable or not but by god please make them interesting." I would be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little bit insane about the likes of Faro and the Ceo lol, so I'd say they did their job. I actually enjoy them being in the narrative.

As for the Zeniths... I used to just hate them straight up, not just for what we're meant to hate them, but for what they did to the narrative. I then started my quick descent into madness until I came to love to hate them lol. But I still think they deserve this spot more than anyone else given that they still make me see red half of the time.

13. something i've learned from the fandom: uhhhhh I'm not sure? Interesting to see the differences between the Persona fandom and the Horizon fandom I guess. In a lot of ways they have the same issues all fandoms have but idk, it's different. I'll leave it at that.

14. three tags i seek out on ao3: I don't really read as much fic as I would like to because of readers' block... But when I do, I feel like I tend to look for Beta-centric stuff. And Nemesis stuff hehe but there's very little of that. I feel like, at least in this fandom, I tend to gravitate more towards genfic instead of ship-heavy stuff. Those aren't three tags but still three things so fair enough.

15. a song i strongly associate with my otp/favourite character: I have a few playlists but I'm not sure any songs in particular jump out to me as much as Sad Machine by Porter Robinson, which has been my quintessential Horizon song from the moment I finished HZD. It still gives me the same chills that going through ELEUTHIA-9 gave me... God, I really wish I could go back to when I was first playing it and experience that feeling again. I might actually cry listening to it now.

Tagging: @banukaihelpme, @cicadaknight, @thatpunnyperson, @snorkeldays and @hartlesshart, but absolutely no pressure to do it! I guess this is more of a [insert your fandom here] thing, so, for any other mutuals who see this, if you wanna do it for your fandom, please tag me as your tagger, I would love to see it 🙏

#tagged for me #ramble #hzd #hfw #long post

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cheemken · 1 year

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Body swap au thoughts

Imagine Leon actually asking Drasna if he could stay with her tho, bc he doesn't like staying at the League, it's so quiet and lonely and isolating and he fucking hated it

And Drasna was happy ofc, it's Diantha in her eyes, and she was always waiting for the day her dear daughter would come back home. "Let's invite Augustine too! I'm sure he'd be happy to have dinner with us again!" And she called in Augustine. For Leon it was easy to fool them, he was just thinking it's both his mother and his brother he was talking to

So they were at Drasna's house now, it was,, it was quaint, yknow, but even tho he has never step foot in it until now, it felt so welcoming. Ofc, bar the random dragon skulls and horns on the walls, that creeped him out. So hey, Drasna told him to make himself at home again, as it was his home. No, that wasn't his home, ofc it wasn't; it was Diantha's home. Drasna had told "Dia" she still has her spare clothes in her room, Leon doesn't know where her room was, but if there's anything he learned abt Diantha during their Champion meet ups, she loved the dark, her room would always be at the far end of the hall, where the darkness lies. And he was right.

He opens the door to the room, to his surprise it was a farcry from her room at the League. Her room here was messy, RioluMan and LucarioMan posters were on the wall, along with numerous other posters of different action movies, some he knew were musicals (Hop and Gloria loves listening to musicals too). There were a ton of paper on her desk, books and even journals, even had a figurine of LucarioMan sitting idly next to what he assumed was a script for one of her films. It was,,, it was weird,, seeing Diantha's room like this. To be so messy and cluttered and littered with pieces of media he never thought she'd actually like. She really hid a lot about herself from them.

He yelped when Drasna suddenly appeared, standing next to him, saying "I didn't touch your things here, my dear, I know how much you love your organized chaos, as you'd say," she chuckled at that, shaking her head, "you and your brother are so alike, but perhaps I'm to blame, Arc knows how many bones are lying around here in our house too," she laughed at her little joke, or Leon wanted to believe it was a joke because what the fuck does she mean there are more bones lying somewhere within the house—

But hey yeah, Augustine finally arrived, and Drasna was so happy to have both her kids back home, and she started preparing dinner. "I'll be making your favourite, dears! Oh this is exciting, you two are back home again!" She said, while heading to the kitchen. Which left him w Augustine, and he was nice, he was easily excitable too, he said he missed her, he rambled on abt his own studies, even his own hijinks w his assistants. Leon's heart ached. He reminds him of Hop.

And finally they had dinner, Drasna and Augustine were talking, the food was great, but there's smth gnawing him at the back of his mind. There's this painful feeling that's eating him from within, as he took bite sized pieces of his food, the conversations between the other two being inaudible in his ears. What is this feeling. He didn't realized he spaced out until Drasna gently tapped his arm.

"Dia my dear, is everything alright?"

"yeah, you've been really quiet, it's weird."

Its weird. How was it weird? She was usually quiet during their meetings, so she must be outside of it too right? Well,, probably not. If her room was anything to go by, she hid a lot abt herself.

Then he looked at them, the both of them, Diantha's family. And finally it sunk in on him. Guilt. It was the guilt. Drasna had mentioned it has been a while since they've last been together, and it finally dawned in on him. And Arceus did it fucking hurt. That feeling of guilt, that he's the one here with them, her family, and not her. That somewhere in Postwick, in his own home, she's there, pretending that who she's having dinner w is her own family, and not his. It's the guilt of having to experience the mundane atmosphere of being home first, it's the guilt that she couldn't even be with her family just yet.

But he tried to smile, as best as he could, no matter if his hands were trembling, "I'm fine, don't worry!" He said, hopefully it was reassuring, "it's just nice being with you two again.."

#your honour they make me so so so fucking insane i swear cbdnxbdm #just cndmnfmd #ough™#OUGGHHHH CBXMCBXMNCMDN #they have so many things in common man omf im just chdnfjdm #*sobs*#screaming crying throwing up abt leon and dia dynamics cndmdn #body swap au

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an-album-a-day · 2 years

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Viva Las Vengance by Panic! at the Disco

Genres: Pop Rock, Glam Rock, Power Pop, Rock and Roll.

This is the seventh album by Panic!, and it is now officially their last.

This is a post I didn't want to write. I heard snippets of this album on social media and listened to Viva Las Vengence the song when it came out. I hated everything I heard and didn't want to stain the memory of what was once my favourite band. Now that "the band disbanded" (Brandon decided he won't write any shit anymore), I felt a little weird not listening to the final part of their discography, given how impactful that band was to me in middle and high school. So I decided to listen to it.

The only songs I liked were ones where I could hear bits and pieces of the band they used to be: Viva Las Vengenace, Don't let the light go out, Local God (if it weren't about Ryan Ross), and Something about Maggie.

I actually had to listen to the album twice to get an actual opinion on it. The first time I listened to it, I thought "Hey, this isn't that bad". But that's what the album is trying to do. It's music for people who don't think twice about what they're listening to. This album is a confused collections of songs which are trying to be Theatrical, clever and interesting. Brandon completely and utterly failed at doing so. The actual result lies between weird, awful and sometimes painful to listen to.

But I think this is enough about this awful album. I'd like to title the rest of this post "A love letter to Panic! at the Disco".

before listening to VLV, I decided to take a tour of their discography, listening to each album once chronologically before I listened to their final one. I felt two conflicting and opposite emotions doing so- I felt like I was both touring a graveyard and reliving my middle school years at the same time. From the grooviness and fun of Time To Dance, Lying is the most fun, Nine in the afternoon, Hurricane and so on, straight to the almost flashbacks of ninth grade I've had while listening to The End Of All Things, Always, and such. I was reminded of how much this band shaped me. Of how much of my teen years were inspired by Panic!. Panic! were my favourite band for I think around 5 yeras. from 7th grade up until right before I started this account and expanding my musical taste. They were the soundtrack to the hard times I had with studying in High School. When I hung out and laughed with friends in middle scool, Panic! played. When I cried, I comforted myself with Panic. When I was bored with something, I played Panic to entertain myself.

The last time I've listened to their albums was when covering them here. It was closer to relistening than rediscovering them like it felt now. I was still in High School, and I covered them because I ran behind by a few days.

I don't think I've listened to a single Panic song since then. Not because I didn't like them, I just fell in love with other music.

And I fell in love with them again The band I loved so much was as good as I remembered. Having gained some distance from high school, and having enlisted in the army, feeling the way I felt when listening to some pop punk and alternative rock is a weird feeling. It feels like coming home on a wednesday with a shit ton of math homework, and ignoring it to instead play minecraft with friends. It feels like going to school on a monday, bored out of your mind, wishing you could read your book instead. It feels like going to the library on a friday and coming back with 10 books, and giving half of them back by Sunday. It feels like going to the mall with friends and talking about who likes who and how mean is your English teacher.

It feels like Home.

And I want to thank them. Thank you Panic for your years with me.

Thank you for being the band which shaped me the most.

Thank you Ryan Ross for forming this band I love so much Thank you Dallon Weeks for going the way you went with TWTLTRTD, possibly my favourite album by them. could've done without the last two albums Brandon, But thank you all. Thank you for being my adolescence.

#Music #panic! at the disco #panic #brandon urie #brendon urie #urie #Ryan Ross #Dallon Weeks #no more panic #fall out boy #middle school #high school #thank you #love letter

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deviantartdramahub · 2 years

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DeviantArt - Discover The Largest Online Art Gallery and Community

What the fuck is this nonsense? frigidhermitprincess admits to having done a roleplay with Club-Dreamiverse, but then complains about another one they did together? Is she blind or something, or did she not read the comments from the past? He has already said many times that his roleplay is based on people accepting people who have autism. But she took it out of context and made it sound like a twisted creepy grooming fetish or something, indicating that she is one of those people who thinks autism is a disease, like what the fuck you piece of shit!

Being autistic does not mean you have an illness or disease. It means your brain works in a different way from other people's. It's something you're born with. Signs of autism might be noticed when you're very young or not until you're older. If you're autistic, you'll be autistic for the rest of your life.Autism is not a medical condition with treatments or a "cure." But some people need support to help them with certain things. And if that wasn't bad enough, she then goes on to attack Triagonal, claiming she is a paedophile without anything to back it up other than some rather out of context bullshit when Triagonal asked if there were any shipping options, such as how she would fucking get the fanfic she requested. To me, this must have been an actual paperback or hardcover book; otherwise, I highly doubt Tri would have even asked about the option at all! And need I remind anybody that DeviantArtDramaNow is a pissant shithole blog that fucking specialises in terrorism as well as propaganda? For example, the Co-Founder, who is a fucking drug abuser, claimed I was defending paedophiles because I debunked and proved that her shitblog was lying about Tri. And there is also the fact that the Co-Founder, aka. Morothais, is also protecting a catfish sexual predator named BirdThatWhispers, aka. AnimeCitizen, or whatever name he goes by now! Who was seen and caught forcing a 14-year-old girl into a spanking fetish after previously forcing a girl into his favourite fetish, tenical porn! Sadly, the second girl took her own life a week after she told me she would have loved to work with me on an anime one day, but then, after about a week, I never heard from her again. It was confirmed in the news that she had died by her own hand. Thanks to that rat-faced motherfucking cunt! THAT! And Tri, along with other friends of mine who are also being forced to share that fate, is why I'm so fucking enraged at those cunts over on DeviantArtDramaNow, and Bird, and Eve... They'd say otherwise because they know they've lost their grip on us!

Amen to all that. Autism is as valid as its alternatives. Someone with autism can be as much to a society as anyone else. Aristotle was said to have autism, two other examples of such people being Jordan Peterson and Satoshi Tajiri, the maker of Pokémon. Maligning it leads to the destruction of its people.

I (unlike many people, namely all entities mentioned in the linked reply chain, which everyone should be reminded only has screenshots) don't claim to know everything about what's going on, but in the spirit of the justice and peace-making done here in this Tumblr group, if Club-Dreamiverse is able to use Tumblr (or send a proxy to do the following), he is allowed to make a case for himself.

Triagonal on the other hand has been my username (still is, I kept many of my features because my departure was based on a misunderstanding) and I can at least speak for myself, starting with asking if what frigidhermitprincess said is an attack on an aspiringly merciful judge (as I am the judge of this group). To respond to her accusation towards me, I'm asexual. I didn't know it was still common for skeptics of asexuality to claim asexuals are closeted predators; I know in some places this is a hate crime (but as seem to be shown in all of these DA links, we can only hope the latter's followers would care).

She too isn't unwelcome to make her case here, where it would be viewed under a fairer microscope.

#Eve #Soderlund

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joshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh · 28 days

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Double Shock

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I'm back! It's been far too fucking long, god damn. Columbo's second season has wrapped up. And quite a solid episode to do it with. This episode sees who we believe to be one Dexter Paris slowly work his way towards killing his own uncle for the presumed purpose of inheriting his estate, only for things to get complicated when Dexter's identical twin Norman is introduced shortly later. Thus begins game of cat and cat and mouse wherein the two siblings whom hate each other continuously work to pin events on the other and throw Columbo off their game. And at this point, we don't actually know who did it! Things get even more complicated when uncle's business manager and attorney attempts to dupe both siblings at the same type with his own ulterior motives, although unfortunately either one of the siblings pull the rug out from under him which allows Columbo and the rest of the police to sniff out their trail better than we had before. Lot of moving pieces, and a strong case for it to be either brother. But of course, the most satisfying and logical conclusion, is that it was both of them. And I thought that worked pretty well.

If I can complain, however, Columbo basically realises "oh it had to be two people" and then has instantly deduced that it was the brothers, and yeah he has sufficient motive for both of them and knows that they've been lying about their contact with one another, but he doesn't really have that much of a case still, so Norman giving up and ratting them both out in the end felt a bit unearned. Oh well. I did still enjoy the dynamic of twin brothers shooting each other in the foot such that it'd seem neither one did it. The cooking show setpiece was also really fun - Columbo absolutely camera-shy but doing his best and having a laugh anyway. I also quite liked the recurring Mrs Peck, whom just wants to watch TV and is continuously fucked over by Columbo and tries to forgive him constantly but just gets mad at him again. Good bit character.

Wasn't quite my favourite episode of this second season but I do think the twin murderers and the accompanying genuine whodunnit is enough to make it a worthy bookend for the season. Swag.

#columbo #22.8.24

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pawsthec · 3 years

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Here's an actual fanfic about that maid with super strength post I made a couple of days ago.

Alcina had heard the rumours, the ones about a maid with supper human strength, how positively outlandish. Had the maids really run out of gossip that they made up rumour about fellow members of staff.

Alcina refused to believe such foolish rumours were true, how could they be? Mother Miranda certainly hadn't mentioned any experiments to her, the maid in question was an outsider anyway. Perhaps that was it, she had gained other worldly abilities from some other God like figure.

No, that was simply not possible. That was what she had told herself for months as the rumours only multiplied in volume until, eventually, her daughters heard about them and starting telling their mother lies about this maid.

She had convinced herself that everyone in the castle was simply playing a cruel prank on her. Yet, here she was. Alcina stared in wonder as Sasha lifted large pieces of gold, marble and steel, approximately 2ft long, that appeared to be from what was the courtyard gazebo. The village had suffered a nasty storm last night and the gazebo came tumbling down due to it.

Alcina stood in her window and watched in wonder as Sasha appeared to be under no strain, she appeared in her element and almost... Enjoying being able to lift that much. Alcina raised and eyebrow as she saw that it took three maids, there was still struggle, to lift what Sasha had carried into the courtyard.

Alcina felt guilt build up, she had accused her own daughters of lying to her face due to the fear of having someone be on a level playingfield with her in terms of strength.

Before she knew it she was calling out her daughters names and they were stood beside her.

Bela was the first to form and stand next to her mother. "yes? Is everything alright mother?" Alcina turned form the window to face the blonde. She sighed at the concern on the girls faces. "yes, it appears that I owe you three an apology. Sasha does indeed appear to have superhuman strength."

The girls gazes went form their mother toward the window where Sasha was watching over the construction. They glanced among themselves before Cassandra lifted her gaze once more.

"you know mother, I bet she could lift you up." Alcina's eyes widened at that, she hadn't been swept off of her feet since she was fully human and even then it was when she was in her teenage years. The prospect of a woman doing that to her now sent a spark right through her and made her shift uncomfortably.

"I very much doubt that Cassandra. No matter how strong she may seem, I am much to heavy for any mere human to lift." Daniela peeped up with a grin. "does that look like a regular mere human to you, Mother?" Alcina swallowed, no she did not look like a mere human.

"no matter, I would like for Bela to please collect Sasha and bring her to my Chambers. It has been a while since I have had the chance to discuss something with someone over tea." the three giggled and Alcina could feel colour rush to her cheeks.

They departed soon after, it would seem that they did have at least one braincell between them after all.

Sasha was stood watch as two of the maids started on piecing together what little amount of decorative pieces they could find. She had done her fair share of lifting the heavy materials and was demanded to sit down per Miss Minerva Shadow's request. She both loved and hated her head of staff for making her watch as everyone else worked.

She sat back on the bench but then noticed as a swarm of flies was sneaking around the shadows, she smiled. Bela was always her favourite sister.

As Bela formed and placed her hands over Sasha's eyes both women giggled. "Daniela, you've gotten quieter." Bela let out a gasp and Sasha held back a smile. She could feel Bela's hands tense before letting a fake look of confusion cross over her. "Cassie, have finally stopped nibbling me as a greeting?" the scoff that Bela let out made Sasha giggle.

Sasha lifted Bela hands and gave one of them a peck on the back of it. "don't worry I knew, how could ever think that my favourite sister was someone else." Bela laughed before looping her arms around Sasha's neck from behind. "you are forgiven." Sasha hummed be for leaning back into the woman's embrace.

Sasha looked at the Bela's grin. "I know you didn't come out here just for a hello, what do you need?" Bela smiled at her before giggling. "I bring news." Sasha chuckled. "don't keep it to yourself, do tell." Bela let out a manic chuckle. "your crush is demanding you visit her Chambers for tea." The blush on Sasha's cheeks made Bela laugh louder.

Sasha sighed into her hand. "when does the lady wish to see me?" Bela grasped both of Sasha's hands with glee. "right now! Let's go!" Sasha yelped as the swarm of flies dragged her away from the maids and through the halls, the stairs left Sasha with a slight headache.

As they approached the doors leading to Lady Dimitrescu's Chambers Bela had a wicked idea. As she reformed and helped Sasha to her feet before subtly opening the door and pushing her in.

Sasha ended up on the floor inside the lady's Chambers lead on her stomach with aches everywhere. She snapped her head up with anger before clamberimg up to a kneeling position and turned her head towards the now closed doors.

"Cassie is my new favourite!" after a few moments a reply was bellowed back. "worth it!" Sasha chuckled fondly before making her way onto her feet and bowing before the other woman in the room.

"my lady, you wished to see me?" Alcina glanced at her cautiously before gesturing to the sofa infront of the lit fireplece. "yes, please take a seat." Sasha smiled and nodded before doing as instructed. She watched as Alcina stood from her large armchair and made her way over tpt he young woman with a smile.

Alcina sat down in next to Sasha and smiled at her before ringing the bell on the table. A few moments later Beatrice walked in carrying a tray. She spotted Sasha and gave her a grin before gesturing towards the lady with her eyes, Sasha blushed before looking down. Alcina raised an eyebrow at the odd unspoken conversation.

Beatrice turned to Alcina after placing the tray down. "anything else, my lady?" Alcina raised a hand. "no, that will be all Beatrice. You are free to leave." Beatrice gave a simple curtsy before leaving the town alone.

Once the door clicked shut Alcina faced Sasha. "I have seen your superhuman strength. I would like to discuss it with you, if you wouldn't mind dearest." Sasha started pouring both teas as she smiled. "no my lady I don't mind, what would you like to know?"

Alcina hummed as she was handed her tea. "let's start with the beginning, how did you aquire such a gift?" Sasha thought for a few moments. "if I remember correctly my grandfather was gifted them by our village witch, then it was passed to my father and his two brothers before making its way to me and my three brothers."

Alcina nodded her head pencively. "you are the first female to have this 'gift'?" Sasha paused for a few moments. "I suppose I am, any other questions my lady?" Alcina thought for a few moments. "how much can you lift?" Sasha smiled. "I feel strain after around 10000 pounds or around 4500 kilograms."

Lady Dimitrescu choked on her tea and Sasha looked up at her concerned. "Cassandra was right." Sasha's concern turned to confusion. "my lady?" Alcina sighed before smiling slightly. "Cassandra said that you could probably lift me up, which you definitely could."

Sasha giggled and Alcina raised an eyebrow. "is there something that you find amusing?" Sasha looked away with a deep blush. "it's just the image of you in my arms, it's just strange to think about." Alcina licked her lips. That mental image was starting to grow on her, only one way to sate her growing curiosity though.

Alcina cleared her throat. "it could become a reality, if you so wished of course." it was said ao quietly that Sahsa thought she might be hearing things. Sasha looked at Alcina with wide eyes before smiling softly. "of course, if that is what my lady wishes."

Alcina let out a breath before shakily standing up. Sasha laughed softly before standing with her, she stood at Alcina's side facing her. Sasha brought her hand to the back of Lady Dimitrescu's knees and placed another on the middle of her back.

She looked up at Alcina and when she received a nod practically smacked Alcina's legs to let her fall into her arms. Alcina yelped as she realised she was falling, this was followed by a soft huff as she landed in Sasha's arms.

Alcina swallowed as she realise dhow close their faces were, maybe this wasn't such a great idea after all. As Sahsa smiled at her Alcina practically melted, she loved this feeling. She felt secure and comforted by being in Sasha's arms, if not a little squished.

The laugh that both women let out lifted the atmosphere in the room to a more friendly one. Before Alcina realised it, she was pushing herself further into Sasha and draping an arm around her shoulders. Sasha smiled fondly at Alcina and both women felt a spark.

It felt right.

While Sasha was enjoying the feeling Alcina was busy thinking. She needed to feel more of Sasha, far more. Alcina's thoughts tuned practically preditory as she realised that she needed to keep Sasha for herself.

She couldn't let this chance go to waste, if she lost her to anyone else she would never feel secure with anyone like she does with Sahsa. She would practically lose it. She knew what she needed to do.

She needed to keep her for herself.

#alcina x female reader #alcina x y/n #alcina dimitrescu #alcina x reader #alcina demitriscu #alcina x maiden #alcina x oc #re village #re8 fanfiction #resident evil #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu

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imthebadguyyy · 3 years

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Loved your first fic of Lewis!💛

Can you make one where Lewis Hamilton and Y/N have a fight and have been living separately and then Lewis comes to meet Y/N one evening and makes an excuse that his toothbrush is with Y/N? And then Lewis confronts Y/N that he knows Y/N still love him but won't admit?

* I know this is a very specific prompt. Bare with me. I just wanted more Angst/ Fluff with Longing for each other and Deep feelings and keep it Non-explicit. *

A/N - I'm so glad you liked the fic 😊

We're Meant To Be

Pairing - Lewis Hamilton x Reader (female)

Fandom - F1

Summary - After a messy fight, you don't know where your relationship stands. But when love is that strong, an argument can't stand in the way.

Warnings - Angst, fighting, swearing

Angered shouts. Tears of frustration. White noise. Desperate pleads. And then silence. That's what your neighbours would describe if they were asked to describe what they had heard from your house. An argument that seemed to have started over nothing, had blown up into a full scale fight. When had it become this bad? Only yesterday, you two had had a date night at home, with movies and wine. Everything was perfect. But then, suddenly everything seemed to go down a downward spiral.

Your relationship with your boyfriend had always been calm, it had been the type of love where you just loved each other with all your hearts, where fights were an incredibly rare appearance. You were both working, and he was away at races most of the time, so usually, you didn't waste time fighting, something that was an unnecessary waste of time in your opinion. But then, something had just switched for a second. It was after the race in Baku, and it hadn't gone well. Lewis had been heartbroken, after coming P15, and had heavily berated himself for it. To make him feel better, you had taken a couple of days off work. to just be with him and give him company to feel better.

It had been on the third day of you spending time with him that he had made an offhand comment that had struck a nerve with you. "I wish you could be there at race weekends more often. It's like you don't care enough about the races" The comment had pissed you off, to put it lightly. "What do you mean, I don't care about the races? I watch all of them Lewis, I'm always supporting you" you had practically seethed at him. "Don't get all huffy, darling, all I'm saying is that the other girlfriends and wives come quite often, but you only come to like three races a year" he had said, already regretting his words. "Maybe that's because I have a job?! I work for my living, and I love my job. I don't have time to fly around the world to accompany you to your races, and its damn hard to get leave off of work anyway, I was lucky to even get a week off of work, and you want me to be there every weekend? It's not possible for a working person, Lewis" you had said, anger bubbling in your voice, pulling away from him to sit up straight. "I know, I just meant-" "No, I know what you meant. I'm sorry I can't always be there, and don't you think I feel bad when I can't be there for you ?" "I know you do, I shouldn't have brought this up. But can you come for the next race?" He had asked, not looking at your eyes, regretting the answer. "I... can't. I have a really big meeting coming up and-" "And you can't come I get it"

And he had just left. You had felt your heart shatter, hating yourself for being so harsh with him. But it was true, you were a very hardworking person, and you had worked damn hard to get to where you were, successful at your job, one of the best in your field. It took years of hard work and perseverance and you were proud of it. But a part of you also knew that Lewis didn't deserve any of the crap you had given him, and you also knew that he was right, the other guys had their partners to support them during various race weekends, and you only showed up to one or two of them. He was well in his rights to tell you that. And you hated how it had ended.

You all alone, in your house, in a cold and empty bed, in a quiet house with silence that was much, much more deafening than words ever could be. It was heartbreaking, to see a future you had dreamed of just shattering in front of your eyes, dreams of having a family of your own with him fluttering away like wisps of smoke, the burning flames leaving only a heartbroken mess of a human being behind. Was that what it felt like? To be burned and left to turn to ashes, when a person that knew exactly how to ignite your flame just left you to burn away? To have someone who could ignite your all consuming passion, and turn you to putty in his hands, who could mould you back into shape, leave you to melt into a liquid through his fingers to just lay on the ground, a sad, broken, person.

And here you were, lying on your bed, the sheets that had warmed the both of you on cold nights, or been home to your pleasure laced activities now offering only some of the warmth it used to, cold and unforgiving, as you turned your pillow for the fifteenth time, neither side cool anymore. Even the pillow didn't want to forgive you, the sweat settling in on your neck again, beads of sweat running down your forehead again. The pulled curtains shielded you from the over bright sunshine, your damp hair sticking to your shoulders and neck. Your eyes, red rimmed and tired, shut to protect them from the faint light in the room, the tiredness not permitting you to even open them to look in the dim light of your room.

Somewhere near you, your phone buzzed again, for what felt like the hundredth time in three days. It had been three days, three long, painful days since you and Lewis had fought and not seen each other, and those 72 hours had ripped a part of your soul out. You had spent those three days in bed, your leave days still saving you from getting out of bed and dragging your body to office. Was your relationship over? Were you never going to meet the love of your life, the man you were destined to be with again? Sighing, you rolled over, pushing the damp strands of hair away from your face. Using strength you didn't know you had, you pulled yourself up, feeling your head spin.

Slowly, you made yourself walk into the kitchen, grabbing a piece of bread and popping it into the toaster. Then you splashed some water on your tired face, shuffling over to the bathroom to brush your teeth. After finishing your toast, you peeled off the sweaty shirt you had pulled on when he had left, realising with a pang that it was Lewis's nightshirt you were wearing, a purple one he loved. Dropping it into the laundry basket, you turned on the shower, stepping under the warm shower. The warm spray untangled the knots in your matted hair, as you soaped your body and hair, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks as memories of your showers together with Lewis came flooding back, as heartbroken sobs wracked your form again.

An hour after the not so great shower, you found yourself in another shirt belonging to Lewis, the bed in fresh sheets and covers, your pillow finally cool on both sides. You were clean and refreshed, albeit heartbroken, waiting on your takeout Chinese food and ice cream. Just as you lay there, scrolling through your Netflix account to watch some episode of FRIENDS to help you keep your spirits up, the doorbell rang. The thought of flavourful Chinese food and ice cream was enough to lure you out of your bed again, bare feet padding across the wooden floor to go to the door. You grabbed your wallet, opening the door, to find not your dinner, but Lewis, at the door, in one of your favourite sweatshirts on him. Did the clothes make you feel better? No. In fact, it just shattered your heart further.

"What are you doing here?" was the predictable line that left your lips. "I um, I left my toothbrush at your place. Can I have it back?"

"I beg your pardon? You left your toothbrush? You came back for a toothbrush, but not for me? Is that all I mean to you?!" you said, anger and a hint of sadness creeping into your tone. "You do mean a lot to me" he replied in a sigh. "Look, I didn't actually leave my toothbrush. That was a lie, and wow, I'm just realising how stupid that sounded, I'm sorry" His words were met with silence. The sadness in your eyes said it all. You were upset. Of course you were. "I don't have any toothbrushes except mine, so please leave" Before you could shut the door in his face, he pushed it back open, stepping into the house on his own.

"No do not come in here, please just get out!"

"No" was his frustrating reply. "What do you mean no? I said get out of my house!" "Not until we stop fighting and talk about what the hell happened!" Lewis yelled back, matching your tone. "Why the hell do you care?!" "Because I still love you damn it, I always have, and this stupid fight cannot, and should not break us apart!"

Your burst into tears. Sliding down against the wall, you buried your face in your hands, the sweatshirt arms covering your face as you sobbed. In an instant, Lewis was walking across to you, strong muscled arms wrapping around your shaking frame. "I'm sorry" you managed to blubber out, "I thought it over, and I don't go to support as often as I feel I should, and I'm sorry"

"No my darling, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said all that to you. You work so hard baby, and I'm so proud of you. And I know that you try to come whenever you can, and I love you so much for that. I'm sorry, and I never shouldv'e asked you to prioritize my passion over yours" rubbing your shoulders softly, he let his chin rest on top of yours. Sniffling, you let your head rest on his shoulder. The soft hiccups that left your lips broke his heart even further, something he hadn't thought possible.

The last 3 days had been pure hell for him. He had missed you, God, he had missed you. He had missed having you in his bed in the morning, tracing patterns on your bare skin. He had missed leaving kisses on your soft cheeks and hands and on your cute nose, missed smiling against your skin as you giggled. He had missed you playing with Roscoe, the doggo following the both of you around the house. Even Roscoe had missed you, sniffing around the house for your familiar smell, cocking his ears up and looking at his dad questioningly.

He had missed your perfume, the scent filling his senses, intoxicating him in the best way possible. He missed you curling up to him, playing with his hair or tracing his tattoos, leaving little kisses around the compass tattoo, tracing his 'Still I Rise' tattoo, missing the goosebumps that would rise on his skin when you traced Michelangelo's Pieta on his skin, and kissed the family and faith tattoos on his sternum. He missed you everywhere, and it had taken three days for him to realize that your presence grounded him. Your presence was something he needed, not to survive, he had done that before, he needed you for his happiness.

And having you in his arms, crying over what he had said? It shattered his heart. And he wanted to just fix everything, to bring everything back to normal. Stroking your hair softly, he kept his lips pressed to your ear, whispering soft "I love you's" and "I'm so sorry baby's" and "I'm here for you's" into your ear, feeling his heart lighten ever so softly when your sniffles decreased and your grip on yourself relaxed.

Moving up to meet his eyes, you moved so you were at eye level with him. "So we're both idiots who are sorry?" You murmured, running your hand up to his collarbone. With a soft laugh, he nodded taking your hand into his, rubbing his thumb over yours. "Fighting sucks" he mumbled pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "It really does" your replied, moving so you were straddling his waist. "Let's never do that again, and let's just make a schedule. We can figure out when you can come and visit me, and I'll just deal with the fact that my ethereal girlfriend won't grace the race tracks every race weekend-" "It all sounds lovely but all I want right now is your lips on mine" you interrupted, bringing a smirk to his lips.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to yours, hand moving to maneuver your head closer to his, your hands moving up to cup his cheek, as your traced his jawline, his thumb running over your waist. Breaking apart softly, he let his forehead rest on yours. "I love you" he whispered softly. "I love you too" you mumbled back. Before he could lean back in, the doorbell rang again.

"Damn it. That's my chinese food and ice cream" you sighed, smiling when he laughed. "Was it that bad?" He asked, letting you get up to open the door. "Like you wouldn't believe it"

After getting the food and paying for it, you set two plates on the table and put enough on your plates. "You know what the worst part was about fighting?" "What was?" "Not waking up to you tracing my tattoos" "Aww that's what you missed?" You giggled, walking up to kiss the tattoos on his hands. "I really did. You're cute and adorable and you're all mine. That's why I don't wanna fight. Let's keep it that way" "I love you so much" "I love you too"

***

A/N - I'm so, so sorry I took so long to write this, I really suck at angst, and I hope this is what you wanted, the last thing I want to do is give you subpar work 😭😭

Anyways, have a great day 💙

#lewis hamilton #f1 #formula 1 #sir lewis hamilton #sir lewis #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton blurb #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #f1 drivers x reader #f1 drivers imagines

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chateautae · 4 years

Text

maybe i do | kth. II

➵ summary : maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. when a deal between your fathers leaves you forcefully wedding kim taehyung, arguably seoul’s most powerful CEO, you’re prepared for a loveless marriage of eternal regret and unhappiness. but maybe, it doesn’t turn out that way after all.

↳ part of the high-class series!

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

➵ genre : arranged marriage!au, ceo!tae, s2l!au, eventual smut, fluff, angst

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 10k

➵ warnings : none really, swearing, mainly fluffy and funny interactions, some angst! :o

➵ a/n: and i’m back with chapter two! i really wanted to say thank you for the love and support i received on the first part of maybe i do, it was astounding!! i’m so grateful so many people loved the story and asked to be tagged (all at the bottom <3), it made me feel so motivated to write. if you would also like to be tagged please message me. your feedback is always appreciated!

chapter two : “on my pillow, can’t get me tired”

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Taehyung didn’t remember sleeping anywhere near you last night.

He remembered that even though you willingly agreed to share the same bed, he still opted for caution and slept with the most space between you two as possible.

Though when his eyes fluttered open the next morning, eyeballs burning from the light that bled into the suite, the first thing he realized was that he was not on his side of the bed from last night.

No, he had somehow gravitated towards the center, and as if almost on cue, your slight movement and the sound of your breathing alerted him of your nearby presence.

Peering down at you, Taehyung caught sight of your sleepy head turned towards him and lying on his arm, his other thrown over your torso with you unsuspectingly nuzzled into his side.

Taehyung’s eyes shot open, acknowledging he had succumbed to his habit of hugging something to sleep during the course of the night and he internally panicked. He began retracting his arms slowly, just about drawing himself from you until alarms rang in his head at the sight of you stirring in your sleep.

Taehyung took the golden opportunity to sit up in a flash, having to physically shake his head to rid the image of your tranquil, sleeping face from his brain, crushing the thought that it was kind of cute.

He found himself chanting the same denial from last night, he couldn’t be thinking of such complicated things concerning you when he knew the second he’d step foot inside his home, there’d be a mountain of paperwork ready for him; even more on his work desk.

He had to be thinking about his job, not you.

Even if Taehyung was married now, it wouldn’t lessen the amount of work that plagued his life nor make it any less demanding. If anything, his life would be harder now considering the fact that he had another priority to add to his list, another aspect of his life he had to split his attention between.

He didn’t necessarily hate the idea, just found himself needing to work harder than he already was.

Taehyung sighed heavily at the thought and swung his legs off the bed, rubbing his tired eyes. He took a moment to look back at you, thinking if he observed you a second time he’d be able to piece together how the hell you two ended up in that position, that close.

By evidence of the forgotten blanket half-thrown off you, he could see you were the tossing-and-turning type, maybe the only explanation for your proximity considering he was the same.

He also noticed you slept all curled up, like you were cold and the only warmth you knew was snuggling yourself.

Cute.

There it was again, cute.

Why does that word even exist?

Taehyung discarded the notion altogether and stood to his feet, stretching out his stiff muscles. He made for the bathroom eagerly to begin his day, though not without fixing at least some of the blanket back onto you.

“You don’t have a driver?”

“Not for everywhere I go. I have two hands, I can drive myself.” Taehyung made it a statement to jazz hands at you, showcasing the perfectly capable limbs he was gifted with.

“That’s.. nice, actually. I always see asshole CEO’s getting other people to drive them around.” You relayed as you trailed behind Taehyung, letting him lead you towards the front of the hotel where dozens of expensive cars lined the curb side.

You had no clue which luxury vehicle belonged to Taehyung because quite frankly, he could probably afford every car your eyes caught sight of. It wasn’t until he approached a certain one and retrieved his keys from the valet that your jaw completely dropped, floored.

“This is your car?” You gawked, the sleek design, crispness of its shape and nearly sparkling gloss completely sweeping you off your feet.

“Yeah, think someone like me can’t get a car like this?” Taehyung cocked an eyebrow, gesturing towards himself.

“It’s just-wow. Mercedes CLS?” You inquired without really looking at him, inspecting the car instead as you admired its every curve. Safe to say, you were beyond in love with it. Even if you were always more of a minimalist and preferred the average product, there was just something gorgeous about luxury cars that appealed to you.

“Yeah, actually it is.” Taehyung looked at you impressed, momentarily reminded of just how different you were compared to any other woman he’s chanced upon.

How many of them knew car models?

Taehyung was intrigued by the fact before speaking with one of the hotel workers, confirming if they had loaded his car with both your luggage and some wedding sentiments your parents insisted you keep.

Once receiving affirmation Taehyung made towards your side of the car and pulled the door open. He flashed you a tight-lipped smile as he gestured for you to hop in, drawing you out of your stupor. You thanked him warmly before sliding into your seat.

He let you scramble in comfortably before shutting the door and walking to his side, positioning himself in and clicking on his seatbelt. He watched as your expression lit up once occupying the car, face beaming with excitement as you touched and drank in at the high-end features the vehicle had to offer. Taehyung found himself smiling before he licked his lips and straightened his face, igniting the engine and beginning the smooth drive.

It was easy to settle the debate on where you both would be living. Taehyung was an enormously rich CEO who lived in an expensive, massive home while you lived in a measly apartment. You knew it was useless to live separately, even more useless to have him live with you. And so you agreed without protest to pack your things and relocate, begin your move into the house you’d share with him for a lifetime.

The car ride remained quite silent, you mindlessly bopping your head to whatever mainstream song played on the radio, while Taehyung tapped his fingers against the steering wheel or his lap.

You found your eyes wandering to his slender fingers wrapped around the wheel every so often, sometimes venturing to the other one he placed against his thigh. You began reprimanding yourself once you realized with all the staring, observing and ogling, you most certainly had a thing for his hands already.

Fuck.

They were just so big, bigger than what you’ve seen of the average man and it didn’t help that they looked crafted to perfection.

There was just something about the veins that decorated them, his palm large in size as his fingers seemed deft turning and working the steering wheel. His little accessories like a ring or two, bracelets and his watch did absolutely nothing to deter your interest either.

It only increased once you realized he looked good driving, really good. You knew men had this common attractiveness to them when they drove, watching them all focused and effortlessly working the car somehow sexy; but watching Taehyung drive was another experience entirely.

He looked insanely hot, and you felt like throwing yourself out your window for even thinking such a thing. It was another case of you ogling him without realizing until his deep voice suddenly fished you out of your thoughts, questioning. “Did you like the wedding?”

“Huh?”

“The wedding, did you like it?” Taehyung repeated, glancing at you.

“Does it really matter if I did?” You asked, this one phrase seeming to perfectly sum up the misfortune of your life, provoking an ironic laugh even.

“I think it does. A bride should always enjoy her wedding.”

“Well, I didn’t.” You deadpanned, your expression turning frustrated having to remember that one of, if not the most special night of your life had just been robbed of you, thrown to the wolves while you were only left to accept the sad fact.

“C’mon, you didn’t enjoy a single thing?” Taehyung didn’t mean to flash back to the kiss you two shared, though found himself doing exactly so.

You didn’t enjoy that? he questioned in his head.

“Not really, I just imagined having more choice in the wedding.” You answered honestly, trying not to sulk so much. “It’s not you, I just... thought I’d be able to decide things at my own wedding. I’m grateful your parents did so much, but I didn’t really get to choose anything.” You grew more solemn as your gaze fixated on nothing, watching the world pass you by through the car window.

“My favourite flowers weren’t even there.” You said only despondently to yourself, shoulders drooping, though Taehyung didn’t miss it.

“You don’t like roses?”

Your eyes flashed towards him with furrowed eyebrows, surprised he heard your comment. You straightened up before shrugging back a response. “I like peonies.”

Taehyung looked at your side profile as you turned away, finding the conversation turning more sorrowful than he liked. He allowed some silence to linger as you leaned your chin against your palm, boringly watching the bustling streets.

He decided to change the subject.

“So you don’t think I’m an asshole, huh?”

“What?”

“You said you always see ‘asshole CEO’s’ getting people to drive them around. But I don’t, so I’m not an asshole to you?” Taehyung halved his attention between you and the road, glancing in your direction with one hand working the steering wheel.

You thought the question over, “No, you’re not an asshole.” You said simply, distracted by the thoughts that previously occupied your mind.

“I see.” Taehyung pursed his lips. Another beat of silence passed through the downcast air before Taehyung perked up again.

“Is it just the driving? Or do you have other criteria?” Taehyung asked inquisitively, leaning back into his seat as he observed you.

You could detect from the corner of your eyes the way his stance drew attention to his legs, thighs broad as he sat. “I guess there is.”

“Like what?”

You didn’t really know why Taehyung was so curious. You thought it was common knowledge what the stereotypical asshole CEO was like; they were nearly all jerks with horrible one-percenter mentalities and treated people like gravel.

You scoffed a bit. “They’re usually so full of themselves. They act like they own the place all the time, which makes sense at their own companies but not everywhere else. It’s like the position gets to their heads. Even the way they talk is condescending, belittling, or straight up rude to anyone not on their level. It wouldn’t kill to be nice.” You revealed almost too eagerly, avoiding eye contact with Taehyung as you viewed the traffic on the road ahead, remembering he was a CEO himself.

Long story short, you’ve had your fair share of experiences meeting them as you grew up during the beginnings of your father’s company. They were quick to skew your opinion ever since you watched the way they treated your father all due to having a start-up, for simply being small in name or reputation. They acted like he was less than, some even daring to behave as though his company would simply never make it.

It always boiled your blood, left an extremely distasteful image of CEOs and the business world in your head.

And you were certain it all sucked after that.

“Understandable.” Taehyung nodded agreeably. “But you think I don’t fit any of that?” He rested a hand against his thigh, sitting laxed as he spread his legs apart further. This time it was definitely hard to miss the way they appeared, all laid out and long as your eyes drank him in, following up his thighs all the way to his-

“You don’t. I thought maybe since you’re super successful you’d be full of yourself. But you’re not, really.” You snapped yourself out of whatever the hell you were doing, trying to refocus on the conversation.

“Ah, seems like a stepping stone.”

“Stepping stone? Towards what?”

“Towards you not hating me.” His voice came out with a more solemn timbre than you expected, his jaw tightening for a mere second.

Taehyung only thought such a thing because even if he decided you didn’t harbour negative feelings towards him, there was no way of him determining whether that was true or not without your real input.

“I don’t hate you, Taehyung. I don’t.. think I can.” You claimed with poignancy, his statement causing you to reflect on your own feelings about him.

You don’t hate Taehyung, you couldn’t because he did absolutely nothing wrong in this situation. He was dragged in just like you were. You only despised the unfairness of the arrangement, not him.

There wasn’t much to hate about him.

“So you’re saying you like me then, aren’t you?” Taehyung suddenly teased light-heartedly, all smug as his amused eyes flickered to you.

“Shut up, I never said that.” You turned away, scandalized by his remark.

“I’m kidding. But, why do you think you can’t hate me? I pretty much.. ruined your life.” Taehyung internally felt his chest tighten at the words, remembering the exact thoughts from where he stood no less than 24 hours ago, seconds from lawfully marrying you.

“And I didn’t ruin yours?” This time you turned your gaze towards Taehyung, meaningfully. Your eyes instinctively communicated your emotions as they locked with his for a moment, Taehyung all attentive.

“I took away from you just as much you took away from me. We both ruined each other’s lives, there’s no use in blaming each other. That’s why I can’t hate you.” You finalized, crossing your arms and opting to watch the passing buildings through your window again.

Taehyung absorbed your sudden confession with reason, realizing that in a sense, you two were partners in this unfortunate case. Even if your matrimony constituted a forced partnership neither of you liked, there seemed to be a natural comradery in having to deal with the aftermath of that forced partnership.

Trying to accept it.

“I don’t think I can hate you, either.” Taehyung admitted, ending the more miserable part of the conversation as you fell silent. You thought he was done until he decided to bother you again.

“I think you’re still saying you like me, though.”

You turned to him half-appalled before pointing towards the road, eyes narrowed. “Just drive us home, will you?”

Taehyung laughed at the moment and pressed down on the accelerator, internally grinning at the fact you never said no to his statement.

“This is your house?” You found yourself gawking again at something that belonged to Taehyung, stepping inside a luxury home you’ve only ever dreamed of living in. Sure, you lived with your parents until you were 18, though your father was still starting out with his company for most of those years, not exactly owning anything too luxurious until after you permanently moved out.

So as you stood trying to prop your heels off yourself, your jaw dropped at the sheer elegance and high-status look to the interior of Taehyung’s home. You had already done enough gawking at the exterior, but being inside and processing the fact that you were now to inhabit this home for the rest of your life sent another wave of shock.

You immediately observed Taehyung was the type who decorated his home with only the finest, his taste easily identifiable. Aesthetic, lavish, charming. He seemed like a man of utter simplicity though his home said otherwise, showcasing an artistic, exquisite feel you never really expected from him.

“When will you stop saying that?” He titled his head and smiled through a laugh, removing his shoes and slipping into his indoor slippers.

“Right, sorry.” You were still struggling for normalcy, somehow forgetting almost every hour Taehyung’s wealth and only registering it once you saw something that indicated it.

Taehyung sauntered inside and took a deep breath, enjoying the feel of his abode. He enjoyed nothing more than being home, in the comfort of his own space. Especially for someone who worked so busily, he found pleasure in doing the bare minimum at home. Relishing in the feeling right now, he pressed his lips together in a smile before glancing back at your struggling figure, catching sight of your size.

His eyebrows shot up to the sky. “Woah, you’re short.”

“Huh?”

“I think I’ve only ever seen you in heels.” Taehyung informed. “Now that you’re not wearing them you’re a lot shorter than I thought. You’re tiny.” He pointed out as he eyed you from head to toe, processing the amount of height you lost simply from removing your shoes.

“I mean, that’s kind of what heels do, you know, they add height.” You deadpanned, stating the obvious for him.

“Sorry, it’s just..” Kind of cute, he thought, though fought for another response. “I could probably throw you.”

Nice save.

“Excuse me? It’s not my fault you’re so tall.” You scowled at him. “Besides, you’re all height and no muscle, you probably can’t even carry me.”

“Wanna see me try?” Taehyung was already coming towards you with his arms held out and you sputtered immediately, “No, no, no.” you held your hands up defensively. “Let’s just start the house tour, yeah?” you offered a smile for compromise.

“That’s what I thought.” Taehyung narrowed his eyes coyly and turned on his heel, signaling you to follow him.

What you realized strolling through the home as Taehyung discussed its details was that it emphatically represented him like an open book. Even if Taehyung was predominantly unreadable and seemed to always hide a mystery behind his eyes, you could see nearly all of him reflected in his home.

You often found valuable trinkets or sentiments scattered around the house. It seemed like he cherished a lot of things in his life, namely memories or people. It would also be hard to miss the exquisite selection of paintings and embellishments he draped the walls with, all harbouring their own charm and adding to the overall artistic feel of his home.

There were famous works consisting of Vincent Van Gogh all the way to local Korean artists you’ve never heard of, though admired their work.

It seemed as though he selected the paintings himself.

Another large aspect you couldn’t miss were the many photos he kept, calling to question whether they were of his own work.

“Did you take these?” You approached a shelf in one of his grand hallways on the second floor, hand brushing the wooden frame of a captured photo; six men including Taehyung himself posing comfortably, like they were extremely close, backdrop reflecting what seemed to be a trip.

“I took all of them.” He stated casually, hands tucked into his pockets as he eyed the shelf along with you.

“All?”

He simply nodded and didn’t elaborate further as he watched you admire the photos, yourself impressed by his adeptness for photography.

“You’re really good.” You complimented absentmindedly, enjoying the other photos of not only people but scenery, empty streets, candid shots from what looked to be his own little adventures.

“Thanks.” Was all Taehyung could manage, trying to mask the sheer gratitude he felt hearing the first ever person to admire his work; something that wasn’t related to being a CEO or a businessman.

He also felt slightly embarrassed you’d seen a small part of him he usually hid.

Taehyung continued walking down the hallway until he reached the end, revealing what you could tell was the largest room in the house. You were thrown off by just how unnecessarily large it was. It seriously reminded you of an extravagant hotel suite, more like the grandest one among them.

“This is our room.” Taehyung introduced, gesturing towards its interior.

“Our?”

Taehyung nodded “I should’ve told you earlier but I wanted us to sleep in the same room. If we slept apart our marriage wouldn’t look convincing to my two housekeepers. I trust them but I don’t want any information about us getting out to the public, not over my dead body.” Taehyung stated in earnest as he relayed the information, wandering further into the room.

“You really care that much about publicity?” you genuinely questioned.

Taehyung scoffed. “Not me, I couldn’t care less about what people think.” He denied instantly, almost laughably. “It’s my father. He hates bad press, especially concerning our family or the company.”

“I thought bad press is still press, so it’s good.” You suggested as you followed him further into the room, admiring that though large, his room held a sense of comfort to it. Quite frankly, all of his home felt rather welcoming and cozy, surprising of a CEO who ran such a monstrously successful company.

“My father doesn’t think so. Kim Enterprises has always been generational, each of our CEO positions strictly kept within the family. Our name is our brand and pride, it alone accounts for at least half of our success. We’re extremely well-known for our high status, it’s just plain fact in the upper social circles of Korea. We can’t afford to taint our name with petty things like bad press or corruption, our reputation is too valuable.” Taehyung stated this all nonchalantly as he adjusted his suit jacket in his mirror, like it was something he’s grown accustomed to and has known all his life.

You found your opinion impeding his words.

“So you can never just, escape this life? As long as you’re a Kim you’re bound to this company?” You found the concept wildly restrictive, clearly shackling down any person that would run the business and you felt a disagreeing shiver shoot through your spine.

“Of course, why would you want anything else?” Taehyung tiled his head to the side, eyeing you in genuine questioning and your entire being was trying to bite back the desire to correct him, tell him there’s so much more to life than just some company your family owns. Though you opted for changing the subject instead, unwilling to step on his toes and dictate his life when you knew next to nothing about it.

It wasn’t your place.

“Woah, you have a balcony?!” You exclaimed with a simper, eyes flickering towards the curtains that revealed two ajar French doors leading to an open space.

You made towards it excitedly and stopped just in the middle of the platform, enjoying the breeze of the fresh air.

“It’s my favourite part of the house.” You didn’t even realize Taehyung followed you until his towering figure stood directly behind you, feeling his proximity permeate through your body.

You swallowed.

“Why don’t you look at the view?” Taehyung cocked his head towards the railing of the balcony, though you didn’t move a step.

You weren’t about to tell Taehyung you’re terribly afraid of heights.

“I-I can see from here. Wow, looks beautiful.” You perked up superficially, trying to throw him off and changing the subject again. “By the way, what’s our closet situation gonna look like?”

“Ah, let me show you.” Taehyung strided back into the room towards the sliding double doors you spotted earlier. He almost theatrically glided both dark wooden panels open and your jaw dropped for the 47th time today.

You were welcomed by a ridiculously large walk-in closet, enough to be renovated into its own bedroom. You simply couldn’t normalize its size, especially after registering every suit, tie, watch or accessory Taehyung stored in the gracious space.

You couldn’t even begin to imagine how much money lied in here.

“Oh my God.” Was all you could manage, meandering in sparingly as you viewed each and every expensive piece he owned in the room, no doubt of the highest quality designers, finest of men’s fashion.

“You don’t have to worry about unpacking and moving in here, the housekeepers will do that for you.” Taehyung watched as you looked upon in awe, finding the way your eyes sparkled with emotion very similar to that of Bambi’s.

“How will I fit-”

“I specifically made space for you, there’s enough.” Taehyung stated, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. He’d resolved a while ago he really would try to take this marriage seriously, victoriously achieve the work-life balance his father kept preaching.

He saw giving up his closet space as the first step.

It was indeed so because Taehyung thoroughly enjoyed fashion. He genuinely adored every suit, accessory and outfit in his collection, though if he wanted to reach this new goal of balance, successfully add you to his list of priorities, then he had to be willing to cut down.

Even if that meant reallocating a third of his exorbitant wardrobe just for you, he’d try not to mind.

“Are you sure? I could just use another room’s-”

“I want to.” Taehyung finalized as his eyes turned unreadable from across the room, locking his gaze with yours and you were only left to look back impressed, his generosity unforeseen.

“Thank you.” You voiced a little weak, still shy by the suffocating nature of his stare.

“Don’t mention it.” He offered plainly, propping himself off the wall. He looked off to the side eyeing the empty pockets of space he left for you, until your voice called out to him.

“Taehyung.”

“Hm?” He snapped his vision back to you.

You wanted to ask him something, more so a favour and you were unsure how to word the request. “Um.. I didn’t want to ask so openly, but..” You found yourself beating around the bush, timid of what his response would be.

“Go on.”

“Um, so it seemed like there were a lot of empty rooms in this house, and I was just wondering if I could maybe.. transform one of them into an art studio for myself?” You winced at your own request.

“I’m sorry, it’s just I had one at my old place and it really grew on me. I would get most of my work done in that room and gained a lot of inspiration from it. I have a lot of art supplies and designed often in that studio, so I need a home for all my supplies and it would suck getting rid of it all. I’m sorry it means I would have to steal one of your rooms in the house, if you don’t want me to then-”

Taehyung couldn’t help but break out into a small grin as he watched you ramble on, shyly fidget with your fingers, so apprehensive of asking him for something and it reminded him why he was so eager to provide you with anything you wanted.

You spent too long trying to do everything on your own, achieve everything on your own, relying solely on yourself. Taehyung could see this all as plain as day, quite enjoying of how he’s never really met someone like you, and wanted you to know you didn’t always have to be so independent.

Especially with him.

“Y/N.” He called out to you with the same honey-coloured tone from last night, stopping you. Your eyes flickered to his, awaiting his next sentence and Taehyung already found himself having a thing for your doe-eyes.

Fuck.

“Of course you can have a room. You can have anything in this house. It’s yours.” Taehyung stated with a degree of assurance, his eyes locking with yours in earnest.

You both shared a look as your lips curved into a gracious smile, biting your lip to contain it. His stare wasn’t so much intimidating as it was merely.. calm. Gazing at you for the sole purpose of gazing, and you found some heat rushing to your face under his scrutiny.

Taehyung seemed to realize he was staring and immediately cleared his throat, turning a little nervous as he began another conversation. “So um, I’m sorry to say this,” he began with unease, almost apprehensive and you didn’t know what he was so sorry about. “But I have work today.”

You blinked. “What?”

Taehyung internally winced at your reaction, hands finding his pockets. “I took some time off for the wedding, so now I have twice the amount of work left behind. I need to complete it.” He informed straightforwardly.

“Our wedding was just yesterday, though, aren’t you tired?” You were only taken aback because you were slightly concerned for his wellbeing, wasn’t he tired from yesterday? You recalled him knocking out almost immediately upon hitting the pillow of your hotel bed last night, snoozing away.

“Maybe, but I can’t afford to rest. I’ll only have more to complete if I do, so I won’t be spending anymore time with you today.” Taehyung relayed the information, readying himself for the even greater disappointing news he’d be passing on.

“Actually, we won’t be able to go on our honeymoon, either.” Taehyung thought it was best to slip in all the bad news, growing more and more unrelaxed as he was unsure of how you’d react.

Though what you said next had him nearly floored.

“Honeymoon? Taehyung, that’s the least of my concerns, you should at least rest a day before getting back to work. That’s not really healthy.” You chastised him as lightly as possible, still afraid to be stepping on his toes when you didn’t know his life.

Taehyung was certain you’d hate having been stripped of a beautiful vacation where you could’ve relaxed in the sun and tropics of Cancun. Your father had mentioned to him you’ve always longed to visit the breath-taking city in Mexico, its clear waters and tropical air as a means to truly get away from your stifling life.

So when he found you disregarding the trip altogether and instead focusing on him, more precisely his health, he was left damn well speechless.

There you were again paying attention to the littlest things about him he didn’t care much for; he still had that bandage you offered him a month ago tucked into one of his pockets, not wanting to use the adhesive just yet.

“I’ll be fine. I’m just sorry we can’t go on the vacation because of me, it would’ve been nice, you know?” Taehyung apologized, feeling genuinely guilty for having ruined the honeymoon. Even if you two weren’t going to travel as some lovey-dovey couple, you both simply could’ve enjoyed the time off.

“It’s okay, just, at least work from home today. Heading to the office would be too much.” You suggested for the sake of the fatigue you could discern on him.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m gonna be home for the next few days since everyone thinks we’ll be on our honeymoon.”

“Oh. That’s.. good.” You nodded faintly, half at the idea you two were even faking your honeymoon and half at the blasphemous energy he had to work after yesterday.

The sleep from last night was nearly not enough to recharge from the antics of the wedding, having drained your batteries for the next few days. You were certain his were drained too; he was half the damn couple.

“I should get going. I’ll send Mrs. Choi and Seo up with your things. They’re probably finished with lunch too, you should eat.” Taehyung advised as he stepped out of the walk-in closet, running a hand through his gorgeous hair and you couldn’t help but ogle at the sexy way his strands fell back on him.

“Okay.” You voiced as you followed him out, watching him near the room’s door and just about to vacate the premise before you spoke up. “Taehyung.”

He stopped in his tracks, peering back at you. “Yes?”

“You should eat something, too.”

Taehyung half-smiled at you with a nod “Sure”, before stepping out of the room, leaving you alone.

And you couldn’t help but kind of like the way he smiles.

It was well into the evening now, bordering dinner time as you helped the last of your clothes into Taehyung’s closet, refusing to let the older housekeepers do all the work by themselves considering it was your own luggage.

You also tried to occupy Taehyung’s room as scarcely as you could with your belongings, feeling odd about suddenly moving in with all your might and changing things around. It just didn’t feel appropriate, like you were invading his space and so you opted for scattering only your necessary items.

“That should be the last of it, Mrs. Choi.” You retrieved your last piece of clothing from the rather soft-spoken housekeeper, tucking the blazer away among the rest. You were satisfied to see not only your wardrobe neatly organized now, but fit just about right with Taehyung’s things.

He was right about space, there was enough.

“Mrs. Kim, please rest. You didn't have to move a muscle at all for us.” Mrs. Choi remarked, genuinely concerned for you.

“Yes, please, Mrs. Kim. We can finish up with the little things. I’ve just finished preparing dinner downstairs, you should eat.” Mrs. Seo chimed in as she entered the walk-in closet, gesturing towards the door.

“Are you sure? I can-”

“Mrs. Kim, you’re very kind for offering your help, we’re very grateful you’ve done so. Though we are Mr. Kim’s housekeepers, we are meant to care for his home and his lovely wife. You need not worry about helping us.” Mrs. Choi stated with an earnest tone, speaking respectfully as she addressed you.

You were going to protest again before you considered her words, registering that if you indeed helped them, it would technically negate the entire purpose of their work.

You bit back your reply as a result, crafting a new one.

“I see, I’m sorry, Mrs. Seo, Mrs. Choi. I’m just.. very used to doing things on my own,” you looked towards the ground. “I apologize.” You almost dipped for a bow until Mrs. Choi rapidly cautioned you, scrambling towards your figure.

“Oh dear, Mrs. Kim! You do not need to bow to us, you’re Mr. Kim’s wife, you are the one who is bowed to.”

“Yes, you do not need to apologize either, we appreciate your help, it was very sweet of you.” Mrs. Seo added with a warm smile, bowing to you instead. “Please go for dinner downstairs, I’ve also informed Mr. Kim for dinner, though I’m unsure if he has made his way down yet.” She added on, urging you towards the room's exit and you recognized it was probably better to listen to her.

Even if all this high-class, status stuff had yet to sink in or make sense to you after being away for so long, you understood there was an eventual tolerance you had to build for it. Just as Mrs. Choi said, you’re Kim Taehyung’s wife now, and that came with a hell lot of status you hadn’t even scratched the surface of yet.

You could already tell it was going to be a pain in the ass.

“I suppose I should. I’ll get going, then.” You smiled graciously at both women, appreciative of their kindness and began vacating the closet. You just about pulled the room door open before Mrs. Seo suddenly came to you.

“Oh! Mrs. Kim,” she halted you. “I was informed by Mr. Kim to provide this to you. He would have done so himself though he’s quite busy at the moment.” Mrs. Seo extended her hand and presented a pristine looking card, black and incredibly sleek in design. Your eyebrows furrowed until you noticed the telltale symbols, almost ominously minimal branding indicating a rare card only those with some of the highest networths in Korea could own.

Your eyes widened in horror.

The Black Card.

“P-pardon?” You needed her to reiterate, there was no way Kim Taehyung was giving you a black card, the same card that was limitless on credit and only exclusively owned by the affluent one-percenters of society.

“He’s informed me this belongs to you now, and that you’re to keep it in your possession.” Mrs. Seo elaborated, smiling through the mental whiplash you were currently experiencing.

“Belongs to.. me? This is mine?” You were still having trouble processing, why would Taehyung be gifting you this? Who’s account was it even attached to? Was it yours and he’s decided to graciously pay all the expensive fees, or worse, was it joined with his own account?

Don’t tell me it’s joined with his account.

“Yes, Mrs. Kim. It’s yours.” Mrs. Seo held it out more outwardly, nudging it in your direction.

Your mouth fell agape for another second before you mentally collected yourself, quickly grabbing the card and thanking her as you made your exit, marching through the house for Taehyung’s unbelievable ass.

Taehyung could not be providing you with this card. It was irrational, simply had to have been a decision he made with at least two bottles of soju in him, right? You didn’t care what his reasoning would be, you were denying and returning this. There was no way in hell you’d accept this card, especially if he linked his own personal account to it.

You tried loosely recalling where Taehyung mentioned his study, logically assuming he was working there. You inspected majority of the second floor, working your way through the halls until you finally caught sight of the familiar wooden doors with glass panels, slightly ajar, light bleeding through.

You made for the room quickly and stormed in without a care, attempting to steady your breathing from all the rushing around. You caught Taehyung completely off guard, having shredded his suit jacket to instead sport the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt, adorning black-rimmed, designer glasses.

He looked 100x hotter than he should’ve.

Taehyung suddenly propped up from the leaned-back position he’d assumed on his chair, expression caught by surprise. “Y/N?” He questioned, eyebrows furrowing.

You held up the card and addressed him immediately. “Taehyung, what’s this? Why are you giving this to me?” You huffed, looking at him incredulously.

“The card? For you to use..?” Taehyung responded cooperatively, confused as to why you seemed so frazzled.

“But why, Taehyung? This is a black card, the annual fees on this are insane and I can’t pay-”

“You’re not paying for them, I am.” Taehyung cut in, shutting the binder he was holding and placing it on his desk.

“What? No, no way. If it’s my account then I should be the one-”

“It’s not your account, either, it’s mine.” Taehyung brought his elbows to his desk, hands clasped together in front of his lips. It was now he gave you that same intimidating stare he did back when you first met him, calculative and devoid of expression.

It seemed he did this when he got serious.

“Your account? But-Taehyung, this is your money, I can’t just have it. Please, take this back.” You stepped towards his desk to return the card eagerly, but Taehyung’s firm tone stopped you.

“No, it’s yours. I gave it to you to keep.” His words held this underlying sense of authority, scratch that, dominance when he spoke seriously, resolute. You could instantly tell he possessed a natural sense of alpha male characteristics, enough that even though he wasn’t being harsh or looming, his words and the tone he coated them with held more power than you could manifest.

You almost cowered, but remained adamant on returning the card. It was worse with the card attached to his account, you couldn’t just keep Taehyung’s money like it was your own, it simply wasn’t. Your money sat ordinarily in a separate account on a separate card, which you were happy enough to use. You weren’t going to mooch off of him, it went against every principle that made up your very being.

“This is your money, Taehyung. I have no right to use it.”

“You’re my wife. You have every right in the world to use it.” Taehyung countered with no emotion, or at least any you could discern, uncertain what was running through his mind with only his eyes as a guide towards the answer.

And you knew his eyes didn’t tell.

“Taehyung, this doesn’t feel right to me. This isn’t my money and I can’t use it.” You emphasized more strongly, drawing closer to his desk though halting your actions once he spoke again.

“My money is your money, you can always use it.” You knew he was relaxed, appearing practically unbothered as he leaned onto his desk and eyed you. Though with the intense look in his eyes, his aura screaming for anyone within the vicinity to submit to him, he could easily seem frustrated with the situation, namely you.

And it made you want to crawl into a hole.

“No, it isn’t. I’ve already intruded your home, taken your closet, your room and even an extra one just for myself. I will not take your money either. Please, take this back.” You held out the card more prominently, desperate to have him understand you.

Taehyung wasn’t necessarily frustrated by you, no, he was slightly pissed you kept referring to everything as just his and not yours, that he was the only one considering you two as a married couple now while you still viewed each other separately.

Did you not see him as your husband yet?

He also disliked the fact that you seemed scared of him, or unable to trust him like last night. He could see you fighting back the urge to cower away, genuinely upsetting him you still held a degree of fear and unsureness in your eyes.

Why are you so afraid of me?

“Y/N, everything isn’t just mine anymore, it’s yours, too. We’re a married couple, husband and wife. What’s mine is yours.” Taehyung tried to reason, loosening himself up more to seem less intimidating, more approachable.

“But money, Taehyung-it’s different. I didn’t even want to take my own father’s money, there’s no way I’ll take yours, please.” Pleading leaked into your tone as you lips started doing that thing where they just about pout, emphasizing their plushiness and Taehyung couldn’t help but notice it again.

He started growing frustrated as he removed his glasses, placing them on his desk and pinching the bridge of his nose. It seemed like he was digesting the situation, searching for the best approach.

“Y/N, look. I know the kind of situation you had with your father, but I’m not him. Didn’t you hear what Mrs. Choi and Seo addressed you as?”

You thought it over, unknowing of where he was taking this. “They.. called me Mrs. Kim.”

“Exactly. Even my last name is yours, everything I have is yours. I’m your husband, I’m always going to provide you with things from now on. That card is just one of many.” Taehyung offered his best explanation, making sure his tone wasn’t as serious to sidetrack any fear you still had.

“I understand. But this is a black card, Taehyung, and it’s your hard-earned money, not mine. It feels wrong even just having it.” You couldn’t fight your inner turmoil, you genuinely believed this to be wrong. After spending almost a decade trying to work for yourself, pay for yourself, seldom seeking the help of another, this just left a disagreeing feeling to churn in your stomach.

Taehyung sighed heavily before pushing his chair back, rising from his seat. He made his way over to you where you grew unintentionally defensive, retracting from him slightly as he neared you. He noticed it and pursed his lips, reaching out for your upper arms and taking them warmly, tenderly, waiting for your eyes to meet his before he spoke to you.

“Y/N, do you remember what I said before I kissed you yesterday?”

Your eyes widened having been reminded of the intimate moment, nodding at him innocently. Taehyung witnessed you trying to avoid eye contact and found himself softening.

“I didn’t say that without reason. I meant it when I said I would take care of you. Your father is a different story, if you don’t want to use his money, I respect that. But I’m your husband, and I want to be a good one. I want to give you things.. do things for you simply because I want to.” Taehyung reasoned, gripping you lightly. “I want you to use my money, you’re allowed to use it.” He tried voicing with sincerity, earnestly, hoping he could change your mind.

He saw you still hesitating to accept the offer, however, deciding on a compromise.

“Look, you don’t have to use it all the time. You can still use your own card, but you can use mine here and there. Seriously, Y/N, using it won’t even make a dent on me. I’m the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company, use it at your discretion.” Taehyung could practically see your gears shifting, searching for your eyes as he wished you’d understand him.

He saw this as a second step towards work-life balance, only feeling the responsibility and genuine desire to be the good husband in spite of the unfortunate nature of your marriage. He didn’t want any doubt concerning his ability to be a good husband, either.

After all, when Taehyung did something, he always did the best he possibly could.

“Okay, I guess you’re right. But I do have my own money, and I’ll be using that 100x more often than yours.” You relaxed and oddly let him hold you, looking down at the black card that rested in your hand and clutching it to your palm.

Taehyung realized he was still holding you and let go, retiring to fluff his hair instead. You caught a glimpse of his bicep underneath his rolled up sleeve as he did so, and you truly hated you chose a time like this to find him stunningly attractive.

“You should come downstairs, Mrs. Seo prepared dinner.” You ignored your thoughts.

“You go first, I’ll be down in a second.”

You nodded agreeably and turned away, leaving his study. You took a second look at the card in your hand, then glanced around the house as you strolled through it, trying to embed what Taehyung said into the crevices of your resistant thinking.

Everything I have is yours, you reiterated, registering that Taehyung had in fact grown accustomed to the idea of you two as a couple already. He’s accepted it, embraced it, even enforced it now with his earlier declarations and this black card. You automatically felt behind, like you were the tortoise in the race and needed to pick up your pace.

If Taehyung had already come to terms with your marriage, it was only a matter of time before you did as well. Marriage is a two-way street, and if you wanted to make this easier on both yourself and Taehyung, you would compromise with him, accept the true sense of partnership that entailed your status as husband and wife.

Thus was the exact mantra that played in your head as you fiddled with the card, remembering the way his big hands held you.

Warm.

It was night.

You could say it was like any other ordinary night, though that would be a gargantuan lie.

This night was the first time Taehyung and yourself were going to sleep in the same bed.

In your own home.

The hotel suite left you both with your own space and privacy since it was a random, public room with no personality or attachment to it whatsoever, making it easier and comfortable to sleep with him.

So when you emerged from your walk-in closet in a thin camisole, loose pajama shorts and without a bra, you were cursing yourself. God damn you for needing to sleep in minimal clothing for comfort. You’d slept in a loose t-shirt and bottoms at the suite last night since it was a public room, and long story short, it left you tossing and turning more than you liked.

You had no clue prior to arriving here that you’d be sharing a room with Taehyung. You’d expected to sleep in a different one, in the privacy of your own room where you could prance around as you wished and as a result packed your usual sleepwear.

But now that you were left having to slumber with Taehyung, clothes on the more revealing side, there was no turning back.

And what there was truly no turning back from, was when you opened the closet door and your eyes landed on Taehyung’s shirtless, wet self drying his hair after a shower.

You immediately malfunctioned.

Your eyes fell to his bare back, ruffling his wet hair as his plaid pajama pants hung loosely at his hips. You immediately exclaimed and clamped a hand over your mouth, trying to shut yourself up.

You did not expect at all for Taehyung to have such honey-coloured skin. It was like it naturally glowed, a healthy tone that made him appear all the more delectable. It certainly didn’t help that his shoulders were broader than you first observed, sincerely an other-worldly experience when he wasn’t wearing clothes.

You also got an all-access view of his trap muscles, adding to the width of his shoulders overall and when Taehyung turned around to the sound of the closet door opening, gaze locking with yours, you could confirm his neck, chest and collarbones were indeed crafted to perfection.

Taehyung’s eyes widened momentarily drinking you in, not expecting your light sleepwear when just last night he witnessed you in a full pajama set. Not to mention, and he hated that he could tell, but you weren't wearing a bra.

And the camisole did nothing to hide that.

Taehyung straightened himself up realizing you two were practically gawking at each other, resting the towel around his neck as he cleared his throat. “That’s what you sleep in?”

“That’s what you sleep in?” You retorted, arms over your chest.

“Guys usually sleep shirtless, this is normal.” Taehyung gestured towards his own body and you had half a mind to floor yourself. It’s like Taehyung knew but also didn’t know he was hot, knew the effect he had on people though never grew cocky or proud enough to purposefully parade it around.

And it frustrated you even more; he was fairly humble about being a sexy Greek God.

“Girls sleep like this too, this is normal.” You copied him, looking off to the side.

“I was kidding, I only sleep shirtless sometimes. Just get in bed.” Taehyung narrowed his eyes as he gestured towards the sheets, returning to his palace of a bathroom to toss his towel in the hamper and pull a t-shirt over his head.

You wanted to move, feet just about ready to carry you but you never abandoned your spot. Instead, you pressed your lips into a thin line contemplating that sharing a bed with Taehyung, in clothes like this and in such proximity, all held a degree of intimacy you didn’t know you two shared yet.

It’s only been a day.

So when Taehyung returned to your unmoving figure, arms holding your chest and avoiding eye contact with him, he was quick to get the message.

“Um.. if you really don’t want to sleep here, I can give you another room.” Taehyung offered, figuring himself this may be too soon.

“No, it’s okay, that’d be kind of a hassle.” You waved him off. “Besides, your bed looks comfy.”

You were honestly trying to live up to your acceptance that Taehyung was the man you’d spend your life with now, so you’d better start getting use to him. You’d sleep next to him for numerous nights, spend endless days together and share a multitude of things; this would simply just be a first of many first times.

So you paddled over to the bed and removed the covers to snuggle yourself in, the bed’s coolness sending a shiver through you before you hugged the blanket to yourself. Taehyung stood with a smile before crawling in himself, adjusting the covers to his liking.

He felt at peace in a matter of seconds, the feeling of his own bed lulling him into a state of slumber already. He reached his arm out to shut off the lamp on his bedside table, leaving the room pitch dark and only his digital clock and balcony as a light source.

You began to cower a bit in the darkness, thankful for the sheer curtains that allowed the moonlight to spill into the room.

You felt another shiver run through your body when you shifted, realizing you were cold even under the sheets. You tried warming up on your own by shimmying the blanket around more comfortably, but it didn't do much.

You were left lying on the bed trying to think warm thoughts, unintentionally breathing in the constant scent of Taehyung from his bed; his cologne, his aftershave, his body wash all filling your nostrils.

It was intoxicating, absolutely distracting and sleep began to slip your mind. It didn’t help that you were still cold too, moving around and turning onto your side where you now faced Taehyung.

He seemed to have already dozed off, face tranquil as he slept soundlessly on his back. You couldn't help but admire his side-profile, the sparse moonlight illuminating his features. It was hard to not stretch your hand out and nearly run a touch along his cheek, like he was a rare work of art that naturally called for admiration.

You realized turning towards him that he radiated a wave of warmth from his body, remembering boys were pretty much furnaces while girls usually froze.

How wonderful it is to be a woman.

You desired some of that heat and shuffled just a little closer to Taehyung, nearing the center of the bed. You discerned he was indeed warm and maneuvered slightly closer, just about stopping at the center of the bed. You fought back the urge to shimmy any closer, leaving a mindful gap between you two.

You were seconds from catching a peace of mind until Taehyung unexpectedly spoke in the silence of the night, startling you.

“You can come closer, I don’t bite.” The smirk in his voice was obvious, making you scrunch your nose and snap back at him.

“Shut up, I’m not getting closer to you.”

“You should, I’m really warm, and I can tell you’re cold.” There he was again teasing, his tone coy as he kept his eyes shut, unbothered.

“Over my dead body.” You mocked him from earlier, turning away from him abruptly and pulling the covers over your head.

Coffee was probably your favourite thing life had to offer. One of the couple things you’d fight someone over; coffee and your independence, if you wanted to be specific.

So it made you genuinely happy Taehyung had such a wide selection of coffee to choose from, ranging from all kinds of beans to instant coffee, cappuccinos, lattes, mochas, you name it. It took no time for you to craft a cup to your liking, shuffle into a seat on the island and begin picking at the breakfast the housekeepers had whipped up earlier this morning.

You’d woken up early today keeping in mind the day you had planned. You decided this to be another move-in day as part of your studio setup project you’ve entertained for the last week. The granted time off due to your odd honeymoon farce with Taehyung proved to actually come in handy, thankfully.

It had been another peaceful morning for you, having woken up with sunlight gracing the walls, certain you could hear birds chirping as if you were in a Disney film and little mice would come out to start sewing the gown you’d wear as a princess.

It had been a peaceful morning indeed, but when you stretched out to loosen your stiff muscles, the chaos that met you was anything but peaceful. Even if it’s occurred at least 5 times now, you kept forgetting that you shared a bed with someone else now, and that said someone had somehow always founds a way to gravitate towards you during the night, even daringly cast an arm over you sometimes.

It left you in a state of panic registering that Taehyung’s, dare you say warm and cozy body would be just behind you, his chest mere centimeters from your back. You would stay still for some time, calculating the optimal way to remove yourself from his hold until he eventually stirred enough to loosen his grip, darting right out of bed.

Other times, he’d wake earlier than you and you wondered what would cross his mind once he registered your oddly proximal bodies.

Did it ever bother him?

Nonetheless, it brought a mischievous smile to your face thinking about the fact that Taehyung had such a perfectly human habit like cuddling. He was always so serious, so put together and a near machine at everything he did, seeming as though he wouldn’t give anything romantic the time of day.

But it was hard to forget the fluffy feeling that blossomed in your chest when you would sense his proximity, maybe inviting a liking to it. You had always slept alone, only yourself and the darkness to keep you company in your lonely bed, in your lonely home.

So sleeping next to someone, namely Kim Taehyung left an impression on you you couldn’t quite shake. It was difficult to erase the image of his calm, sleeping face after the handful of times witnessing it. Long eyelashes delicately pressed to the skin under his eyes, lips plush as he seemed to naturally pout in his sleep. The sunlight only accentuated his honey-coloured skin, adding a glow to his features that made him appear prettier than he already was.

It was nice to think you’d wake up to that every morning.

You found your mind still playing around with the idea until you snapped yourself out of it, questioning why the hell you always ventured off whenever you thought about him.

Weird.

You were scolding yourself until your eyes caught Taehyung strolling into the kitchen with his phone in is hand. He’d foregone a jacket today, black shirt sleeves folded to mid-forearm paired with black slacks.

You were normal until you almost spat your coffee seeing he wasn’t wearing a tie but instead had the first few buttons of his shirt open, revealing a generous view of his neck and the beginnings of his chest.

Fucking hell.

You were staring stupidly until Taehyung peeked up at you, smiling “Morning.”

“M-morning.” you stuttered.

He seemed unsuspecting as he returned his attention to his phone, proceeding to the kitchen counter and retrieving a cup to fix himself a drink. He appeared to be reading something conscientiously on his device, never taking his eyes off and you quickly became bored, ready to use the weapon you’d acquired.

“So.. you’re a cuddler, huh?”

Taehyung nearly dropped his cup.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re a cuddler when you sleep. Cute.” You rested your chin in your palm, playful smile on your face.

“I think you’re mistaken, I am not a cuddler. And I’m not cute.” Taehyung denied as he only focused on the cup, his back to you. You then watched him reach for his selection of tea and purposefully evade the coffee, your eyes lighting up with mischief.

“Wait, you’re a cuddler and you drink tea instead of coffee? Very cute.” You pulled on his leg, chuckling as you brought your mug to your lips

This was going to be fun.

“Shut up, I don’t like the taste and tea is healthier.” Taehyung practically sneered back, harshly ripping the packet of his tea bag.

“Doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re a cuddler.” You sipped on your coffee, unbothered as you swung your legs back and fourth.

“Doesn’t take away from the fact that you like it.”

You nearly spat your drink.

“What?”

“I remember a certain someone that shuffles closer to me for warmth, no?” Taehyung snapped back as he returned to his phone and popped his tea into the microwave, his shoulders high to the sky. You could imagine his smug face proud of his remark while searching for your own, realizing that Taehyung was damn good at arguing and you’d really have to upgrade your comeback game to counter him.

He was unfortunately your match.

“Even if I were one, which I’m not, It’s not like I’m committing a crime.” Taehyung suddenly finalized with a snippy tone, and you realized you may have hurt his ego.

Men.

“I never said it was a bad thing.” You commented under your breath and looked away, popping a raspberry into your mouth.

Taehyung bit back a smirk as he retrieved his cup of tea, taking a sip as he returned to his phone and took a seat across from you. He began compiling his plate of breakfast as he worked his device, typing away with one hand as if he was drafting the Magna Carta.

You became bored again.

“Why do you have so much coffee if you don’t like it?” You genuinely felt like inquiring, if he didn’t like the taste why would he have so much?

“For my housekeepers, they drink it.” He took a sip of his tea, all attention on his phone.

You nodded understandingly. “Why do you have two housekeepers, by the way? Isn’t one enough?”

“So they can keep each other company.” He answered absentmindedly, eyes still glued to his phone as he bit a piece of his toast. You really hated that he wasn’t actively interacting with you because it only left room to stare at him, and that was never any good.

He looked illegally attractive with the unbuttoned part of his shirt, your mind profusely bugging out over the exposed bit of his chest. You were reminded of the full view from last night, and began pondering how long you’d survive having to see that for the rest of your life.

“O-oh, that’s nice.” You stuttered back a reply, squashing your previous thought.

You were actually quite impressed by the kindness Taehyung showed behind that decision, noticing he had these small moments where he was caring, considerate, all hidden behind his unreadable face and seriousness when it came to business.

It was quite interesting.

You were mindlessly eating until Taehyung spoke up, eyes flickering towards you. “What are you going to do today?”

You swallowed your fruit. “I was planning on moving more stuff in again, start finishing my studio setup. Thank you again for the room, by the way.” You expressed your gratitude once more, forking some eggs into your mouth.

“Don’t mention it.”

“What are you doing today?” you echoed his question, taking another swig of coffee.

“I’m working again. If you need anything I’ll be in my study.” Taehyung sent you a half-smile before snatching up his plate, bringing his phone to his ear as he stepped out of the kitchen.

You sighed heavily only being left to think about your day, which would be majorly spent unpacking and arranging things. You had a plethora of art supplies, design tools and canvases to set up in your studio, leaving you constantly thinking of how to even begin.

It would be a mission alone to sort through everything you had left, knowing you didn’t exactly label out of sheer laziness and would have to individually unbox and organize everything .

It was this exact task that took up most of your day, time having slipped by in the blink of an eye. It wasn’t easy when you had to be rummaging through your belongings and situating them where you thought appropriate, also trying to envision a new look for your studio.

You hadn’t realized 3 hours had passed until the ring of the front doorbell caused you to check your phone, curious as to who would be visiting your home in the middle of the day. You assumed it be one of the housekeepers and abandoned your work, cascading down the staircase and striding towards the grand entrance.

You drew towards the monitor Taehyung had showed you just yesterday, explaining it to be your home security system. Taehyung detailed it had a camera for your front porch that detected movement and the doorbell alike, so you peered at the monitor to see the stranger outside your home.

Your eyebrows furrowed registering a woman, her back turned towards the door as she fidgeted nervously with her purse in her hand.

Sheer curiosity took you over and you paddled towards the door, unlocking it. You wore a smile on your face as you swung the door open, though it was immediately wiped off taking in the last person on earth you ever wanted to see.

“Mother?”

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emwritesfootball · 3 years

Text

On The Wall | John Stones

Also you should write a piece about John coming into the pub where the reader works and hitting on her and making fun of her for having his picture on the wall and you can go from there 👀

Word Count: 1,612

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral (Female receiving), fingering, drinking

A/N: an idea I pitched to @bluemoonstonesy who said I should write this myself. Enjoy x

- - -

“We’re closed,” you say automatically when you hear the little bell at the top of the door signal that someone’s come in. You’re wiping the sticky surface of the bar down, not paying attention to anything but making sure the wooden area is spotless for tomorrow.

“Oh, sorry, I must’ve missed the sign,” a familiar voice chuckles and you look up to find none other than John Stones in your family’s pub. John freaking Stones, whose picture happens to be on the wall of your family’s Manchester City-themed pub right next to Aguero and Grealish.

“I-” You don’t know what to say at first, speechless as you just stare at him. You let out a nervous chuckle, ducking your head to hide the embarrassment that you knew was plainly spelled out across your face.

“I can leave if you’d like,” he says when you still haven’t found your words.

“N-No,” you stutter, shaking your head rapidly. “It’s fine. What are you drinking?”

“Virgin of whatever’s your favourite,” he responds, giving you a saucy grin.

“No,” you reply, falling easily into your role behind the bar. “As your bartender, I can’t let you drink a virgin anything - footballer or not.”

John places his forearms on the bar, leaning forward. “And what if I’m an alcoholic?”

“I’d think the media would have let me know,” you retort, smirking.

“You got me there,” he chuckles, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m out of excuses, and we just won earlier today-”

“You did, and you deserve a drink, so what’ll it be?” You don’t reply, mixing up your favourite cocktail and garnishing it, setting it down in front of him. “After the way you played today, this one is on the house.” You realize you actually hadn’t flipped the sign from OPEN to CLOSED, doing so as he sips on the drink. You can feel his eyes on you, watching as you finish your checklist of things to do to close the pub down for the evening.

“So, how’d you get this job?” John asks, making idle conversation as you continue to clean.

“My family owns the place, so I didn’t get much choice,” you shrug, starting to wipe down the tables. “Doesn’t matter, though - pay’s good even if the hours are shit, but at least I get the luxury of telling my bosses to fuck off without being fired.”

“Yeah, not many people get to say that, I suppose,” John said, wincing a little as the alcohol went down.

“Could have worse jobs than dealing with drunks, honestly. I could spend my days getting yelled at by drunks who think they know more than the refs while I get paid millions of pounds to kick a ball.” You shot him a wink to let him know you were kidding, your stomach dipping when you made him laugh.

“Fair enough. At least I don’t have a framed picture of myself where I- wait, nevermind. My picture’s everywhere at the Etihad.”

You walk back behind the bar, making him another drink - two mojitos this time. “Both of those aren’t for me, are they?”

“Only one of them is, unless you don’t wanna pay for your second drink.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” John laughs, shaking his head but motioning for the drink. “Give it to me.”

You hand him one, your fingers brushing his. Your breath hitches at the contact, your eyes meeting his, and you know he’s heard the sound.

“Who’s your favourite City player?” He asks, his voice barely a whisper.

You bite down on your bottom lip, flicking your gaze down at the bar before your eyes meet his again. “If I tell you it’s you, would you think I was lying because you’re the one in front of me right now?”

“Well, now that you’ve said it: yes,” he jokes, smiling. “But you’re so beautiful and sincere that I’m inclined to believe you.”

“Calling me beautiful to try to get out of paying for that second drink?” You tease in an attempt to ignore how fast your pulse is racing and how turned on by him you are.

“Maybe,” he smirks, reaching out and touching your face. You lean into his touch, his thumb brushing across your cheek in a way that makes you yearn for him to touch you in other places. “But it’s also true.”

“You shouldn’t press your luck, Stones.”

His eyes darken. “Call me John.”

“John.” You sound out the syllable, loving the way it feels coming out of your mouth. You’ve said his name a thousand times - screamed it when he’s scored, cried it when City’s lost, casually thrown it out to your friends or anyone when you’re talking about your team - but this feels different… intimate, even.

The pads of his fingers press into the sensitive skin on your neck and you let out an involuntary whimper. John swallows hard, his tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip. “If I kiss you right now…”

“If you kiss me right now, I’ll end up begging you to fuck me on this bar,” you say, barely recognizing the words as the leave your mouth. You’re not usually this bold, but this man makes you do things you wouldn’t normally do, the least of which is beg him to fuck you in your family’s pub.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” John growls right before latching his lips onto yours. Your stomach presses painfully into the wood as you lean across the bar, matching him kiss for kiss.

“Wait,” you gasp, breaking the kiss as you pull back so you can walk around and stand in-between his legs, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Much better,” you smirk, leaning in to kiss him again.

“Wearing my kit, eh?” John murmurs between kisses, his hands sliding up your waist and underneath the material. “Sexy.”

The word travels out of his mouth and down your spine, your clit throbbing as it responds to his praise. He lifts his kit over your head, letting it fall to the floor. Your jeans are a little trickier and you kick off your shoes before wiggling out of them while he sheds his own shirt and joggers, toeing off his own trainers. For a moment you hate that your bra and panties don’t match, but you also weren’t expecting to get your brains fucked out by your favourite footballer tonight, so it’s definitely not going the way you’d planned.

“Let’s see how wet you are for me,” John rasps, his hand trailing up your thigh before settling between your legs, nimble fingers pushing your panties to the side to probe your slick folds. Your hands fly to his shoulders, a moan ripping from your throat as he slides a thick finger as deep as it’ll go inside your pussy, curling in to your g-spot just right when the heel of his palm grinds against your clit.

“Oh, God, John!” You cry out, a needy whimper leaving your mouth when he pulls out his finger, his eyes glued to yours as he licks his finger clean.

“You taste so good,” he praises, kissing you again so you can taste yourself off his lips.

“Please, John, just fuck me already,” you beg, reaching between the two of you to stroke his cock.

“How do you want it?” He asks, his eyes fluttering closed as you pump his shaft, your thumb brushing over the tip that’s now leaking precum. “I don’t have a condom so pullout will have to do.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing in anticipation, the thought of John fucking you raw and pulling out making you that much more turned on. “Pullout is fine - just fuck me already, John.” You pull yourself up so you’re sitting on the bar, spreading your legs so John can get the perfect view of your already-dripping pussy.

He lines his dick up with your entrance, letting out a groan as he slides the tip into you. You let him go slow so you can feel every inch of him, finally picking up the pace once he’s balls-deep inside you. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, your hands bracing yourself on the wood as he thrusts into you rhythmically, his fingers leaving marks on your hips.

You’re on the verge of an orgasm when John pulls out, pumping his dick a few times before spilling his seed on your stomach and letting out a groan. Without a second thought, you’re swiping it off and sticking your index finger in your mouth, tasting him like he’d tasted you earlier, making a big show of swirling your tongue around your finger.

“Did you cum?” He asks, and for a moment you think about lying to him, but you decide not to, shaking your head. “Lean back,” he orders before kissing up your inner thigh and putting his mouth on your pussy.

Your hands immediately tangle in his hair, grabbing the curls as he licks at your core. It doesn’t take long for you to cum around his tongue, his name on your lips as your orgasm races through you and you grind your pussy on his face.

His lips are shiny with your juices when he comes up, grinning at you before pulling you in for another kiss.

“When do you close next?” He asks a few minutes later as you’re both getting dressed.

“The same day as your next match,” you reply.

“Good,” is all he says, giving you a knowing smile before vanishing out the door, leaving you all alone with your thoughts as you begin wiping down the bar again to remove all the evidence of what you’ve just done.

#my writing: john stones #john stones smut #john stones x reader #john stones imagine #john stones imagines #john stones one shot #john stones oneshot

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theonewiththefanfics · 3 years

Text

Tomato - Tomato (one-shot)

Synopsis: One is an international rock-star. The other is his loyal assistant. Both are complete morons in love. Also - she’s allergic to tomatoes, and it is important.

This started off as something completely else. hope you enjoy :D

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Assistant!Reader

Genre: fluff, minor angst

Warnings: two idiots pining for one another, swearing, mentions of allergies and EpiPens

Word count: 3492

Being an assistant to someone famous wasn’t all glamourous parties and wild nights out with celebrities. It was scheduling last minute flights and not sleeping for three days straight as you packed a million bags and then repacked because their stylist sent you knew pieces and the old ones no longer fit the aesthetic of the week. It was also making sure that they were up by six AM with a hot coffee at their bedside ready to help them wake up as you lay out a detailed plan of the day down to the minute, while you yourself basically only had a two-hour nap because you had to finish off 568 handwritten notes to be sent out to each of the contacts in their phone. Or at least that’s what Y/N’s life was like being the personal assistant to none other than the modern-day prince of rock Harry Styles. Said rockstar was actually still asleep when Y/N entered his room, ripping open the curtains and letting in the rising sun. He groaned, pulling up the bedsheets that’d ridden down his form during the night. “Not that I don’t like seeing your gorgeous face in the mornings….” he mumbled into the covers. “But I don’t like seeing your face in the mornings when they start at six bloody AM.” Y/N snorted and rolled her eyes, rubbing them in an attempt to get rid of the sleep that still lingered in her own body. “You were the one that said you’re fine with seeing Lambert at eight for a fitting.” “When did I say that?” Harry scoffed, only the top of his messy bedhead seen from the cocoon he’d built around himself. “Would you like me to pull up the text messages, the calendar or the e-mails?” Even with her back turned as she rummaged through his closet for him to put on some clothes, she could sense the middle finger he threw at her, and she smiled. Despite everything, despite the zero sleep and stress always coursing through her veins, Y/N loved working for him. He treated her as a friend, not just some lackey he paid to, but most importantly, comparatively to the other people she’d worked for in the same line of business – he treated her as a human. If something went over the deadline, Harry didn’t scream or yell at her and tell Y/N how incompetent she was, instead he asked what kind of help or assistance she needed to get the job done, or maybe if she just needed some time off to gather herself and look at the problem with fresh eyes. “I hate how organised you are,” Harry groaned, finally throwing the covers off. “If I wasn’t, you’d be in a ditch somewhere.” She heard him scoff and two feet plop against the hardwood floor as he made his way towards her. “Is that how little faith you have in me?” “You don’t even know what day it is!” “Who does in these times?” Y/N shrugged her shoulders and handed him a pair of boxers, some loose jeans, and a flowery Hawaiian shirt. “Are you telling me I’m wrong though?” She looked over to her side, a smirk playing on her lips while he squinted his green eyes at her. “No, but it doesn’t mean I like getting called out, especially this early in the morning.”

With a roll of her eyes and a shove at his shoulder for him to move to the bathroom, Y/N handed him the clothes, moving downstairs to start making him some light breakfast and get herself a cold glass of water. You see, she’d been working as his assistant for close to two years, and they’d grown not only as people around one another, challenging their beliefs and world views, but as friends too. And, well, Y/N would be lying if the emotions hadn’t evolved from platonic to falling in love. Not that she’d ever admit it. He was an international sensation, and she was the girl who got him vegetarian croissants at the airport. She dragged a hand down her face as she clicked the stove on and took out a carton of eggs from the fridge. Y/N knew how he liked his omelette to the T, mostly because when she’d spent the first night of quarantine with him a year prior right as the pandemic had started, Harry had wanted to do something nice because she couldn’t go and see her family any more, so he’d gotten up at seven to make breakfast for both of them. The only problem was, he hadn’t asked if she had any allergies, so as he added bits of tomatoes, parsley, cheese and scallions, Harry hadn’t expected Y/N’s eyes to go wide at the first bite as she dropped the fork. “Harry…” Her tone had been cautious. “What’s in this?” He was sweating. Was his cooking really that bad? He just wanted to do something nice and there he was screwing everything up. “ ‘S just some of my favourite things. I’m sorry I didn’t ask, I just thought you’d like it.” “I do, but this tastes like it has tomatoes in it.” He nodded. “Yeah. It does.” Gently she smiled at him and pushed the plate a bit further away. “Could you grab me a coat, and if you have any – an EpiPen?” “An Epi – oh shit!” When the realisation hit him, Harry was jumping out of his seat, running to one of the cupboards and rummaging through in a panic all the while apologies flew non-stop from his mouth. Y/N in the meantime had gathered her purse and mask, making a call to the nearest hospital to explain the situation to which they responded they’d be waiting for her arrival. “I’m so sorry!” Harry ran up to her, a first-aid kit in his shaking hands. “Please don’t die! I didn’t want to kill you, I promise! I just wanted to make you some breakfast cause you do so much for me, and now you’re stuck here, and – oh god,” he cried. “I’m going to be prosecuted for killing my assistant.” She didn’t mean to, but the snort came out of her nose either way. “Harry.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Please calm down. I’m not going to die.” “You’re allergic!” “Yes, I am, but I only had a small bite. The ER is just a precaution.” Y/N took his palms in hers and squeezed them. “Now take a deep breath with me…” They did so, holding it for five seconds and letting it out for eight. “And calm down a bit. I’ll go give myself the shot, and then I’ll drive to the hospital.” “Let me,” Harry begged. “Please, let me at least drive you to the emergency room. God, I almost killed you with an omelette, it’s the least I can do. I – I could also help you with the shot, I won’t hit an artery, I promise -” “Harry, you’re barely coherent. Not to say anything, but you’d have a bigger chance of killing me in a car crash, than from that tomato.” Y/N gave him a smile. “I’m gonna be fine.” With that, she left him to venture into the bathroom and did the unpleasant part of stabbing herself in the thigh to alleviate her body from the allergy symptoms. She sat there for around five minutes before she felt that the swelling of her tongue and itching in her throat was starting to subside, which meant the epinephrine was working. “Okay,” she huffed, taking her purse from the couch where Harry had been sitting, hugging the accessory. “I’ll be back in probably around two hours. Do we need anything from the store?” He shook his head. “Just come back home, please.” Y/N would never admit how her heart thundered in her chest when Harry said to come back ‘home’. “I will.” She promised. “Don’t you worry. You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Styles. The money’s too good.” She winked at him and then left Harry pouting on the couch, but she couldn’t get through the door, before he jumped up, yelling, “wait! Do I need to get rid of every tomato in the house?” “No,” she laughed. “I’m good to be around them. Even touch them. ‘S just my insides that don’t agree with it when they meet.” “Okay.” He nodded, hands on his hips. “Alright. I’ll uh – I’ll be waiting. I’ll make you something else.” “There’s no need for that, Harry.” His eyes widened at her words. “I swear I’m not trying to murder you!” “Oh my god,” she muttered shaking her head. “Just – just relax. Okay. I’ll send you hourly updates.” He bit his lip. “Make it every ten minutes.” “Harry –,” “Please?” The way he was giving her puppy dog eyes melted her heart. With an eye-roll, Y/N waved at him and promised to update her boss at every possible moment and confirm that he hadn’t, in fact, been the reason for her demise. Well, he was the reason for the demise of her low standards in men, having taken them and thrown them up to the Moon, but unless her feelings were miraculously requited or if one of the Marvel characters, she was obsessed with came to life, she’d have to stick to what was available. And in her mind, that wasn’t Harry. “What are you thinking about?” His voice startled Y/N out of the memory, and she shook her head, adding salt and pepper to the beaten eggs. She shrugged. “Just about that time a year ago where you secretly tried to off me because you were too nice to say you didn’t wanna quarantine together.” The groan he let out was of royal embarrassment, and it put a wide smile on her face, as she took one of the forsaken fruits and started to chop the red ball into small pieces. “You’ll never let me live it down, are you?” Y/N raised her eyebrow at him. “Your failed murder attempt?” She snorted. “Of course not! It’s like you don’t watch the crime shows and murder documentaries when I have them on. You really haven’t learned anything.” Harry stuck his tongue out at her and moved to her side, dropping some chives into the mix as well. “Well given how it wasn’t a murder attempt, I wouldn’t consider it a fail.” Her hip bumped his, and only then did Y/N really give him a once-over. As always, he looked amazing in whatever was on his body, but what made him even cuter in her eyes was the sleepiness still lingering in him. Harry’s movements were a little bit sluggish, eyes half-closed and small sighs passing his lips as he sipped onto the coffee she’d come to his place with. The shirt sat loosely on his body, the first two buttons left open while he’d tucked the bottom of it into the jeans, having found a Gucci belt and cinched it around his waist, giving it a more eighties look rather than the sixties vibe he usually had with his suits. The brown hair was still messy and dishevelled, and Y/N could barely, just barely restrain herself from running her fingers through it, but what she didn’t know Harry was struggling just as much. All he wanted to do was pull out the bottom lip Y/N had gotten in between her teeth and kiss her senseless, to have her fingers dig into his arms and leave crescent shaped imprints on his skin. “So, uh…” He had to start a conversation otherwise his mouth would find itself on Y/N’s mouth in a second. “What’s Lambert got in his schedule? How many outfits is he thinking?” “Two or three, I think,” she said, pouring the mixture on the pan and letting the slow sizzle erupt around them. “He’s got this one suit which I think you’ll really like – all leather, but it needs to be altered.” Harry hummed, and for a second both of them relished in the domestic feel of it all. They’d had many moments like it before, especially during the spring and summer seasons of 2020, and Y/N couldn’t help but relish in her memories at them. “Harry?” It was like her voice snapped him out from a trance. “Could you pass me a plate please?’ “Uh, yeah,” he stammered for a moment and then nodded, wordlessly going to a cupboard and taking out a white marbled plate. That single piece of kitchenware probably cost more than her life insurance, but it was definitely aesthetic if nothing else. Silently Y/N plopped the omelette onto the plate, placing it on the kitchen counter and went to get him a fork, however when she turned around, he was facing her, chewing quite agressively on the inside of his cheek. “You okay?” she asked, coming closer. “I can call Lambert, reschedule it for later. He wouldn’t be too happy about having to wake up and then – “ But Harry shook his head. “It’s not that.” “Then what?” He didn’t say anything. It was like he was trying to decipher the best course of action, and when he ultimately did, Y/N was pressed up against the counter, Harry’s forehead against hers with two ring-clad hands cupping her cheeks. “Harry,” she breathed, out her lips brushing his making the air in her lungs hitch. “What are you doing?” “Something I’ve been dying to do for a year now. If you let me that is.” “I -,” The words were muddled up in her head. Of course, Y/N wanted him to kiss her, she wanted him to ravish every part of her body. The fantasies and dreams she’d had at night would be incriminating proof if her feelings were on trial, but despite it all, her brain was usually in charge and would overrule any decision made by her heart. “Harry, we can’t.” She whispered, voice breaking. “I -,” Horror morphed onto his features as he took a step back. “Did I misread the signals? Did I do something you don’t wan –“ “No.” She grabbed onto his cheeks, trying to calm him down, his body practically melting into hers. “I do.” She didn’t need to explain what she meant. He understood. “So much it hurts me sometimes… but Harry, you’re my boss. My employer. It… it wouldn’t be right.” “Why? How can it not be right, when it feels like the rightest thing in the world?” “Because, Harry,” she huffed. “You’re my boss. And what’s worse – I love working for you!” That made both of them laugh, the tone of her voice as if she was more annoyed than anything else. “ ‘Nd why’s that bad?” He nudged her nose with his. “I’d hope my employees like working with me. What kind of a person would I be if I thrived on them being miserable?” “Because if I didn’t, quitting would be easy.” She raised her eyebrow at him. “And if I quit there’d be nothing stopping us from dating.” Harry bit his lip, finger trailing along her cheekbone. “There’s nothing stopping us now either. There is no clause in your contract that says you can’t date people who you work for or with. Sarah’s with Mitch, and they’re the happiest they’ve ever been. They’re even having a baby…” Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know. But that’s different. They’re on equal levels. You and I, however… I don’t want people to think I got my job because I slept with you, or some shit. It’s bad enough some already do so.” His brows furrowed, and Y/N saw how his jaw clenched. “Who?” “Strangers.” She shrugged. “I know you don’t look at comments like that online, but I see them. My DMs are filled with that. Gossip magazines. The point is – there are already unsubstantiated rumours about us. This would give them the confirmation they’d need.” “How can it confirm something that’s not true?” “There are still people who believe vaccines cause autism. Even when their ‘proof’ has been discredited and shown to be just complete bullshit, most don’t like to admit they’re wrong, so they’ll look for whatever tells them they’re right.” Harry huffed throwing his head back to look at the ceiling. “So, where does that leave us? In love, but without being able to do anything about it? Because I can’t.” He shook his head. “I won’t be able to just pass you by without kissing you, or not pull you into the bed when you wake me up, or press you against the wall and not have my head between these two gorgeous legs.” Y/N groaned slapping his chest and dropping her forehead against his peck. “That is so unfair. Why do you have to tease me like that!” “Oh, sweetheart.” The rumble was deep and shot a wave of heat straight to her core. “This is no teasing.” The smirk on his face when she looked up at him was shit-eating. “Trust me, if I was teasing, you’d be begging for me.” She’d imagined him between her thighs more times than it was appropriate considering he was her boss, but hot damn, did it feel amazing when his lips crashed onto hers, and she let him. In her dreams, his lips hadn’t been just pressed to her mouth but other places which were more south, but it was still one of the best feelings in the world. The kiss left them both breathless, and grinning and satisfied, yet begging for more, teeth nipping at the soft flesh. “I’ll put out an official statement, if you want,” Harry muttered against her mouth, unable to stop pecking her lips now that’d he’d gotten a taste. “But please, please, please… for both our sanities go out on a date with me.” It seemed like Y/N was the one contemplating the best plan of action now when her brows furrowed and she looked up at him, pressing and unpressing her lips, as the swelling from the kiss grew. “Did you by any chance have a piece of that omelette already?” She had a suspicion it wasn’t just from the kiss. His eyes widened, and then his head dropped to her shoulder. “Not again!” Y/N rolled her eyes lifting his face by the chin so he would look at her. “How about EpiPen first?” “Fair enough,” Harry grumbled unlatching himself from her and going for his keys and wallet, already preparing for the short drive they’d have to take. “But then a date?” She raised her eyebrow, taking out the box Harry now kept under the sink with at least three EpiPen’s for emergencies. “In a hospital?” “We could be going dumpster diving for all I care, and I’d count it as a date.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’ll have to do so much better than that; you’ve almost put me in anaphylactic shock twice. Now come on.” She motioned with her head towards the bathroom. “Stab me and take me to the ER.” “Fucking tomatoes,” Harry grumbled, taking her by the hand and not letting it go even for the short walk. “Tomato-tomato, you’re the one that kissed me.” “That I don’t regret.” Y/N smiled, turning towards him, and taking him by the nape of his neck pulled Harry down for one more kiss, groaning at the feeling of his tongue dancing against hers. “Y/N!” He pulled back with a gasp, shock on his face. She just shrugged her shoulders. “We’re already going to see the doctors anyway.” Harry pushed her shoulder and made her sit down onto the toilet. “Take your pants off before my kisses kill you.” “Yes, daddy.” Y/N wiggled her eyebrows as Harry moaned, squeezing her calf. His eyes were dark as he looked up at her. “Next time this happens, you’ll be begging me.” Her wicked smile was so full of happiness he couldn’t help the one that grew on his face. “I’ll be keeping you to it. Now, dear sir.” She handed him the EpiPen. “Hit me with your best shot.” And although it’d been now two times in their lives where Harry trying to do something good and make the other feel just as good had done pretty much the opposite, when they got to the emergency room, their smiles could be felt even under their masks Harry watched with blushing cheeks as Y/N explained the situation to the nurse, especially when one of them threw him an unsavoury glance, eyebrow raised high as if saying ‘again? One time wasn’t enough?’. “No more tomatoes.” He promised. “And also - it wasn’t on purpose!” Y/N squeezed his palm, chuckling. She may not be able to give a shot at eating a tomato, but she sure as hell was going to give Harry one. After all, she had almost died for the man. Twice.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Harry Styles tags: @breezykpop @girlboss99 @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist @alliyjane @sirtommyholland @raylovessarcasm @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @harryhub

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

A/N: I’m at work and I wanted to write a bit for my book, but hahahahahahaha I can’t stop procrastinating. Also, this was something comepletely else centered around Christmas, then New Year and the Valentines, but I just couldn’t and it morphed into this. Maybe this Holiday season when it rolls around I’ll post it :D

P.S. if anyone’s had a septoplasty (repositioning of the septum) - how was it? how painful is it? kinda starting my journey towards it cause apparently I can’t breathe out of my left nostril, but I’m kinda scared ngl. I’ve read some horror stories about having holes and pieces of the cartilage fall out afterwards :///

P.S.S. what did ya think? my tags are always open, just drop a message if you wanna be added :)

P.S.S.S please don’t plagiarise or repost my work on other platforms (wattpad, AO3 etc)

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x reader smut #harry styles x assistant!reader #harry styles au #fanfic #fanfics #one direction #one direction imagine #1d fan fiction #1d

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dragongirl642 · 3 years

Note

I really love your writing and noticed your asks are open (i think). And, I checked your masterlist and didn't see RE8 listed as a universe you write for, so you can ignore this if you want. But, could I request Heisenberg, Donna, and Lady Dimitrescu reacting to a male dragon-shifter reader who has decided to make the character's residence their hoard, and as such, going to extreme lengths to protect them and the residence?

OOOHHH 😮😳 How did you know dragons (and by extent dragon shifters) are my favourite things in the whole wide world!!!!!

As a treat, you get all four of the Lords' reactions. 😎

For extra drama, the dragon-shifter (you) basically crash land nearby (after a loooooonnnngggg flight) and decide to take up residence in the nearest abode while you rest, and end up getting comfortable and liking the area so decide to stay.

You have a full human form, fully dragon form, and an in-between form.

Also, you have like saintly levels of patience.

Heisenberg

It takes him a minute of staring to figure out that the giant dragon in the factory, is not a hallucination, induced by either the drinking he was doing the night prior, or a trick of Mother Miranda's trying to destabilize him mentally.

However this quickly turns into a lot of yelling "what the F are you doing in my factory!" and "What the F are you!" while chucking metal at you.

You melt the more dangerous pieces and yell at him to "Cease this nonsense! You can't hurt me like this."

Heisenberg.exe has stopped working.

He's partially re-evaluating his life like...did I just get sassed by a giant lizard.

You take the initiative to tell the small angry man telekinetically chucking metal around to chill. "Listen, I'm just going to rest here a few days then leave. You leave me alone, and I won't Incinerate you."

He quickly weighs up how much he doesn't want you here vs how much it will piss Mother Miranda off if he uses the giant dragon crash landing in his factory as an excuse to do absolutely nothing for her.

He's a bit annoyed about you taking up all the room by the forges so he can't make new soldats but...

Hate for Miranda wins!

He actually uses this as an excuse in his next report and Mother Miranda comes to 'get rid of the problem herself since Heisenberg cannot'...you almost incinerated her and she checked out. (He's putting that down as one of the best days of his life).

Since he now has nothing better to do he either leans on a nearby balcony or stands on a floating gear and starts trying to get your attention.

Will ask you everything from your name and where you came from to your favourite colour and if you have a specific favourite scale on your body.

You're distrustful and annoyed at first but soon warm up to this obviously lonely man.

You get so comfortable you decide you just might never leave.

The first time you feel comfortable enough to shift back to your human form Heisenberg is like (o_o) hot person! Two for one deal, annoying Mother Miranda plus Eye Candy!!!!

Makes a joke about having you turn into your dragon form again so he can keep making excuses to Mother Miranda. Which gets you curious and you ask about her, and he explains about the cadou, the experiments, and what she did to him.

He will make a bunk for you, so he can get back to work and you can stay near the heat of the forges, (absorbing the energy from the flames speeds up recovery and/or keeps you charged at 100% so you're always ready to burn a b1tch...specifically Miranda).

You both talk about whatever while he works. Lots of late night chats. One time he accidentally doused the forges and you just blew into the chamber and they re-lit immediately. (Mechanical Heart Eyes)

Since you start considering the entire factory to be your hoard, sometimes you claim a random object as your specific favourite piece for the day, maybe one of his tools or a specific piece of scrap. If he needs to use it, you won't let him and a small argument can be had. A solution is soon found though, you can't have a conflict of interest if your favourite item is him.

When you protect him, he's super flattered and hypes you up.

Cue him on the sides cheering you on.

If you two have started dating he will definitely yell "that's my boyfriend!" and gush about you to whoever happens to be standing next to him. (Bonus points if it's any of the other Lords. Especially Miranda, she is dying!)

Definitely makes a sign saying 'Beware of Dragon' to put on the fence.

Sometimes you jump to his defence even when he's in the middle of handling the threat. He gets huffy, saying he can take care of himself. You respond by telling him you won't let anything harm what's yours and once again, Heisenberg.exe is experiencing an error.

Alcina Dimitrescu

She is absolutely dismayed and angry at the giant lizard that barged its way through the doors and took up residency in her hall. It's tracking in mud and snow, burned the curtains, and took a good chunk of the wall, (letting in the cold).

Her daughters can't handle the cold, damn you!

Tries to fight you...fails. Turns out she's not immune to incineration and loses quite a few limbs (they grow back...eventually).

When she sees you shift to your human form, she's doubly-incensed...not only did you barge into her home but your also a D I S G U S T I N G M A N T H I N G !

You shift back whenever she tries to kill you so eventually she just gives up. (According to her she's waiting for the right opportunity NOT giving up.)

Wants to kill you, calls Mother Miranda for help and well, the same thing happens if you had crashed in the factory...she checks out!

Refuses to leave the castle for any reason, she's not leaving you along with her daughters.

Resigns herself to yelling insults at you from the balcony.

You respond in kind and it slowly devolves into a competition to come up with the most creative insults.

Your dragon form radiates heat...like...a lot. (Even counteracting the cold coming through the hole in the wall, which you attempted to fix.) This of course attracts the Dimitrescu daughters to the hall (against their mother's will).

If Alcina sees you lying their in dragon from, her three hive-mind children chattering away happily with you encouraging their curiosity, (Bela is half-asleep by your side, Daniela is complimenting your claws and asking about your bone structure, while Cassandra proudly proclaims her mother's are better than yours), she partly reconsiders her stance on you being a filthy, horrible, disgusting lizard man thing to just a filthy lizard man thing.

Seriously, your filthy, take a bath.

You quite enjoy all the little luxuries that can be found in the castle and decide to stay. Alcina almost shreds her hat in exasperation.

You get more comfortable and she starts to tolerate your presence, although she will take a swipe at you if she thinks she has a chance at killing you in your human form.

Jokes on her you can partially change and still fit through the hallways.

You never told her you've claimed the castle and the Dimitrescu family as your hoard but she does notice you being oddly friendly to her and she is "suspicious!"

You've met a few vampires and have a few suggestions for a more sustainable food source (buying blood donations from villagers instead of killing them). She's skeptical but considers it.

The first time you defend her is actually against Mother Miranda...over the phone. You have sharp hearing...and you don't like what you're hearing.

She's both flattered you would defend her so, and disgusted with herself for accepting a man thing's help.

When she realises she likes having you around, she starts to rationalise to herself that you're not just any man thing, you're her dragon man thing and therefore okay.

Gets more comfortable with leaving you with her daughters. You treat them well and keep them entertained?! That's a free babysitter if ever she's seen one.

When she sees the more extreme lengths you will go to protect the castle and her family, she is impressed and flattered and a little scared, and acts like it was her idea to have you stay.

"Oh, haven't you heard, that's the Dimitrescu Dragon."

Definitely rubs it in Heisenberg's face that she has a dragon and he doesn't.

Donna Beneviento

What are you!?!?!

To protect Donna, Angie is ready to fight you or die trying!

Just kind off avoids you and sends the pollen at you to make you leave.

The only one of the four Lords most likely to actually defeat you.

When you speak though, telling her to "release (your) mind, witch, or (you'll) incinerate everything", she's surprised and scared enough to actually do so.

Asks if you'll be her friend. Angie is cussing you out.

You see how scared and lonely she is and just *adoption mode activated*.

You only need to rest a few days, why not do so on friendly terms with your host. (keep telling yourself that).

It takes a day for you to shift to human form, partially because you don't want to have your measurements taken because Donna wants to make you a giant bonnet, (You reason it's a waste of resources, you'll only be here a short while).

Jokes on you, this is your home now.

You've never hoarded dolls before, but there's a first time for everything.

You will spend most of your time in human form since your dragon form kinda scares her.

Even though she's still scared of it, Donna does find your dragon form interesting and will ask to sketch you (from a distance...no fire please).

Make various over-exaggerated poses and joke about "draw me like one of your french girls" and she will laugh, (even though she doesn't get the joke).

She makes a plush doll of you. It turns inside out to shift between human and dragon.

The first time you protect her, she's scared. The flames take her straight back to her childhood, she's crying and she hides. You shift back to human form very quickly and find her, holding her close and apologising for scaring her over and over.

Will tear a man apart in human form to avoid this (or almost human form).

She slowly works up to being comfortable in your dragon form, the first time she falls asleep against your side is a good day.

You start insisting on accompanying her to meetings and escorting her whenever she has to meet another Lord. They start talking sh1t, they get hit (or burned...you let Donna choose).

Angie cheers you on.

Salvatore Moreau

He is terrified of you when you first show up.

You basically tear your way into the mines for shelter and he is frantically plugging the entrance to his home with the enzyme to hide.

Calls for "mother" to save him and that's how you find him.

You see this small deformed fish man crying in the mine and think, "i'm not gonna ask."

You settle in the slightly larger chamber and just lie down for a rest.

He soon realises your not going to attack him and ventures out to stare at you. He just keeps staring at you for like an uncomfortably long time, peeking around a doorway.

Eventual you snap and ask him to stop staring.

He slowly comes out of hiding and starts asking the basics.

"You can talk?" "Who are you?" "Why are you here?"

Seeing no reason not to, you tiredly answer all his questions.

Hearing about your long journey has him curiously asking about the places you've been to.

He quickly figures out you must have some sort of human form since you end up on the topics of favourite foods or movies and your favourites are all distinctly human. (He's the fastest at figuring this out and the least surprised when you shift).

Terrifying (hideous) creature going through an unnerving transformation into a humanoid form...he can relate. Although he's slightly jealous of how 'normal' you look when you shift to human form.

You two have a movie night where he proudly shows of his collection. It is in the middle of him analysing the context of THAT ONE SCENE that you decide, Yes...This one is mine.

The entire reservoir and mine is your territory and if anything comes anywhere near it they will be ash in 30 seconds.

When you protect him from danger, he's shocked that someone cares enough about him to f-ing incinerate a lycan for even looking at him weirdly.

You act like its natural and eventually he starts to get used to you.

Has self doubt and questions your motives...you tell him he's worth it or that he's your jewel.

C O N F I D E N C E B O O S T

Starts talking back to the other Lords when they insult him. It's easy with you hovering menacingly behind him, veins glowing with barely contained R A G E.

One source of friction however, is the fact that he doesn't like that you keep trying to kill Mother Miranda and he will latch onto you sobbing until you agree to spare her (for now...you'll get her when he's not around).

However, the longer you two know each other, the more self-confidence he gains and the more you talk through what Mother Miranda did to him and why he deserves better, (pointing out her manipulation, analyses whether she's ever 'cared' about him, etc...), the less bothered he gets. (Give it a few years, he'll cheer you on alongside Heisenberg).

Bonus:

The second you see Mother Miranda...it is on sight. (Especially if you know what she did to the Lords).

Cue you shifting to dragon form and preparing to unleash a volley of flame, "I smell the blood of children on you."

You may be comfortable(ish) with the actions of your housemate but you have STANDARDS.

Alright 😊 Hoped you like these headcanons, jaychirps. They were really fun to write and grew quite a bit. 😅

(I feel like Moreau's a bit ooc but I don't know enough about him to dispute that claim....)

Oh and p.s. ... asks are open.

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