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silenzahra · 12 days

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Luigi serenades Daisy 🎶✨

This post was originally shared on 14th July 2024 on my old blog, which was deactivated the next day. Due to this, I decided to redo it since there were too many links that led to my old content and therefore didn't work anymore.

I came up with this idea thanks to @kelbreyworshipper who sent me an ask (to my old blog I mean), and I decided to play with my own musicians headcanons to create a romantic ambience for Luigi and Daisy as well as a few headcanons for their relationship in my lore. You may also find a couple of hints to my Luigi the Bookworm post.

Many people read this one before and I really appreciate your support, and I'll be linking your reblogs to the original post below as a way of saying thank you 💖

Still, for those of you who read it before, I'll be adding some paragraphs and sentences here and there that I believe will enrich the reading experience, and I'll highlight them in different colors just in case you'd like to check them 🥰

@bberetd @kimasousparky @artycomicfangirl @keakruiser

@aqua-peri @jellyfishinc @doodleydoo101 Hope it's okay that I tag you since I believe you didn't get to see the original post and I thought perhaps you might be interested. Of course, if you want your tag to be removed, just let me know! 💖

As I mentioned here, I decided to redo this post mainly because of the songs I linked and translated on my side blog, as the original ones were lost when my old blog was deactivated. I want readers to have the chance to listen to each song and understand their meaning if they're interested, so that they can enjoy the entire experience. Still, some of the lyrics would change a bit in Luigi's version to fit with Daisy's appearance (like the "white cheeks" for example, as I headcanon Daisy has tanned skin) and their love story. Apart from that, they are songs that make me think a lot about this couple and their romance, so I hope you'll like them if you give them a listen! 🥰

Without further ado: let's-a go! ✨

Spontaneous serenade

The first time Luigi sang for Daisy was almost accidental. After their first date many more followed, and Luigi gradually became more and more comfortable in the company of Daisy, who showed him by her actions and affection that she liked every part of him and, therefore, he could be himself when he was with her.

Since they had danced together in the park on their first date, Daisy suggested one night that they go to a club to dance for a while. Luigi wasn’t too sure, as he’s not very fond of crowds, but Daisy had taken this into account and took him to a very quiet place located near the beach, in the Muda Kingdom in Sarasaland. Some of its inhabitants were there, but not too many, and the music was at a volume that allowed conversation. This certainly reassured Luigi and allowed him to enjoy the evening after all.

Daisy, knowing his shyness, didn't ask him to dance in the center of the dance floor: they kept to one corner, chatting while standing, and they had a few drinks as they enjoyed the music. Sometimes they’d sway gently when some lively song played, encouraging them to let themselves be carried away by the rhythm. But then one of Luigi's favorite songs came on, and enthusiasm shone on his face as he discovered that Daisy loved it too. He immediately forgot that they weren’t alone: in a sudden display of boldness, Luigi grabbed Daisy by the waist and improvised a dance with her as he began to sing with all his energy and passion.

Daisy was taken aback but did not complain at all. Since she loves dancing, she immediately adapted to Luigi's movements, and with a rapt smile, kept her eyes fixed on him while Luigi sang the romantic lyrics of the song, totally devoted and enjoying every note. He even took her by the hand and spun her around before drawing her back to him, and as he continued to sing, he did so while looking into her eyes with intensity, as if declaiming poetry, his voice laden with a sweetness that rivaled that of honey.

And Daisy felt herself melting. That was the moment when she knew with absolute certainty that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with that sweet man whose bright blue eyes watched her with such warmth and devotion. That sweet and charming man who used to be so shy but who didn't hesitate to show his confident and daring side when he was with her. She loved that contrast in his personality, and it filled her with joy to know that she was one of the few people with whom he felt comfortable enough to bring out his bold side.

It made her feel so lucky and privileged.

Art by @lizannamae on Tumblr.

Songs for Daisy

That night, as he sang with his eyes lost in Daisy's, Luigi realized that she had loved listening to him… and found that he had enjoyed it too. After all, it was a way of expressing how much he loved her and how deep his feelings for her were. And he found himself wanting to serenade her and use music as a way of declaring his love for Daisy.

So he set to work. First he tried taking the ukulele with him on some of the dates they had in the park and on the beach, and he improvised some romantic melodies and lyrics for her while Daisy listened mesmerized. Sometimes she began clapping in rhythm, and other times she got up and began to rock softly to the pace of the tune Luigi plucked from his instrument.

And he treasured every second, but he felt he could do more for her. That she deserved more.

She deserved the world.

Art by LinkerArts on Deviant Art.

The ukulele offered a good way to improvise quick, happy tunes, but Luigi felt a fervent desire to create music pulsing in his veins. He wanted to compose songs for Daisy, songs whose lyrics she could learn in order to sing them along with him if she wanted to, songs that would entice her to sway her body with that hypnotic charm that captivated Luigi and left him speechless. The melodies flowed in his mind, as did different lines born from his deep and pure love for the flower princess.

He then began to write them down. Phrases that alluded to her beauty, her joy, her energetic personality. Sentences that expressed how she drove him mad in the best way possible, how he was simply unable to stop thinking of her, how he couldn't wait to spend every second of his life with her, his desire to always see and make her happy. Luigi poured all his feelings onto paper as he hummed the tunes in his head and decided to replace the ukulele with the guitar to try to give them shape.

Not long after, Luigi surprised Daisy with a moonlit picnic in a quiet corner in the woods near the beach where he had so often jammed music for her on the ukulele. The sound of the waves lulled them as they dined on the delicious dishes Luigi had prepared for Daisy, her favorites, and the candles he’d brought were hardly necessary given the brightness of the huge full moon.

Due to nerves, Luigi was almost unable to eat, but he enjoyed watching Daisy savoring the dinner he had cooked for her. The princess, however, realized that something was wrong with him, always concerned about his well-being and comfort. Not wanting to worry her, Luigi decided to grab his guitar and leave the food for later.

And, looking Daisy in the eyes, he started playing.

(Song: Tragicomedia, Estopa)

"Yo, que vivo en la luna, quiero darte mi granito de arena..."

Daisy was speechless. Luigi's hands flowed with delicacy and mastery as they plucked chords from the guitar, and his voice emerged from his throat firm, confident and somewhat husky, and he was singing in Spanish! For her! The princess was convinced that, had she not been sitting on the grass in front of him, her legs would have turned to jelly, and she would have needed to sit down urgently.

The sight of Luigi playing and singing for her, the guitar resting on his crossed legs, his hands moving deftly up and down the neck of the instrument, his eyes watching her intently with a special, intense glow shining in them, the soft, confident smile dancing on his lips as he intoned the most romantic lyrics Daisy had ever heard...

"Y si tengo que morirme, que me muera en primavera, pa' poder echar raíces y vivir siempre a tu vera."

A sigh escaped from deep within her core and she needed to bring a hand to her chest to calm her racing heartbeat. Her cheeks were burning.

Luigi's smile widened, and his voice gained assurance as he realized that she was enjoying the experience. Daisy listened to him attentively for a few seconds longer, her heart melting at each line with which Luigi expressed his love for her, an endearing smile painted on her lips. She didn't notice she had begun to silently cry until Luigi himself, concerned, stopped playing and reached out his hands to cup her face lovingly. Daisy was surprised to feel the wetness on her cheeks, but smiled and reassured her boyfriend that they were tears of emotion. Luigi's gesture had touched her heart.

Despite the tears, she couldn't restrain herself: she leaned her head forward and kissed him.

Art by @arktm on Tumblr.

Luigi the Musician

The first song Luigi wrote for Daisy was followed by many more. At first, Luigi was afraid that the princess would get emotional again, so he thought that maybe he should keep his new songs to himself. They emerged from deep within his soul, and he couldn't, and wouldn't, hold them back, so quitting creating them was out of the question.

But, to his surprise, he found that, on their next date, Daisy sheepishly asked him if he had written any more songs, as she’d love to hear them. Luigi hadn’t brought his guitar with him that time, but he didn’t hesitate to start singing with the sole accompaniment of his hands clapping, something that Daisy began to replicate almost instantly (Song: Cuando amanece, Estopa). That time, even though she was also moved by the beauty of his verses, she didn't cry, which encouraged Luigi to keep bringing his guitar to their next dates to continue serenading her.

Daisy came to enjoy the experience of hearing him play for her so much that she ended up improvising her own dances to sway to the music he created, fulfilling Luigi's wish that they could share their passion for music and enjoy it together. He went on to create many, many songs during the early years of their relationship, including a very special one he composed after the first time they slept together (Song: Tan dulce, Estopa).

Daisy learned them all by heart. More than once, when he came to Sarasaland for a surprise visit, Luigi found her singing, with no musical accompaniment, the lyrics he had written for her.

And on those occasions it was he who was moved.

But Luigi doesn't just play the guitar and ukulele. Another musical instrument that he's passionate about playing is the violin, because it is, in his opinion, one of the instruments capable of creating the most beautiful and harmonious melodies that reach deep into the heart and soul of those who listen to them and can make them dream and be transported to faraway lands where everything is possible. He learned to play it when he was in high school, and he came to be a great violinist, but, unfortunately, a bad experience with his classmates made him move away from his passion for the violin for a long time.

However, it was precisely thanks to Daisy that he remembered how much he enjoyed plucking beautiful notes from this instrument after so many years devoted almost exclusively to the guitar. On one of the occasions when they were alone at his home, Daisy noticed the forgotten violin lying inside Luigi's closet when he opened it in search of a blanket to cuddle up with so they could read together on the sofa. She was fascinated when he explained that he used to play it, and she immediately started to clap as she expressed her eagerness to hear him play.

Luigi couldn't stop the bad memories from flooding back into his head, but Daisy's lovely and shiny gaze, filled with excitement, accompanied by the good feelings she kindled in him, managed to eliminate those remembrances in the blink of an eye. When he was with her, Luigi felt safe, comfortable, secure. Nothing bad would happen if he played the violin for his beloved princess.

He felt rusty after so many years, so it took him a few minutes to get used to it again. However, once he did, he decided to surprise Daisy by playing the same song that played on their first date and made them dance together for the first time. Their first song.

And Daisy recognized it and, again, was moved, but the smile on her lips made her face glow with pure joy.

Luigi didn't know how to compose a song on the violin, so he was content to leave the creation to his guitar and decided to treat Daisy to the most beautiful melodies he knew and that, he hoped, she’d like. Merry go round of life was only the first, for it was followed by many others such as Mi manchi, A postcard to Henry Purce and Valse sentimentale, as well as several other famous waltzes that sounded wonderful on Luigi's hands.

Daisy loved them all, but above all, she adored the passion with which Luigi played, always closing his eyes to let himself be completely caught up with the melodies that emerged from his violin and reached the princess' heart. She took the habit of almost always wearing a dress to their dates, or at least a skirt, so that she could dance not only to the songs Luigi wrote for her with his guitar, but also to the ones he played on his violin. Even though she always preferred to dance with him, and he with her, she knew that he loved to watch her dance to his music. He was hypnotized by her movemens while she was entranced by the tunes he played. So she let herself be carried away by the beautiful chords of the violin and performed the waltzes by herself under his attentive and ardent gaze.

And then, when they were alone in the princess' chambers, Daisy would "steal" Luigi's cell phone and select all those songs, one by one, so they could dance to them in the privacy of their room and, at last, together, giving them the chance to let the passion that burned in their hearts take the lead.

A very special night

Music and dancing, like reading and gardening, became two of the many passions Luigi and Daisy shared. They were very important to them, practically essential to their relationship. Whenever they saw each other, some harmonious melody would accompany them, either played by Luigi or playing in his phone to make their evening more pleasant and entice them to dance. It was something vital in their lives and it also defined their relationship, as music had witnessed the birth and growth of their romantic bond and how it only became stronger over time.

Therefore, for Luigi, it was only logical and natural that music also attested the moment when he would ask Daisy to be his forever.

More than that: it was going to be what helped him propose.

On this occasion, he preferred to arrange an intimate dinner in a place where they could be completely alone. He wanted the evening to be special, to make Daisy feel special, just as she is in his eyes. But he also didn't want it to be all public so that she’d be forced to say yes if she didn't want to take the next step. Luigi knows all too well how horrible social pressure can be, so there was no way he was going to subject his girlfriend to anything remotely like that.

So he decided to surprise her at the Sarasaland library, where they've spent many good times since they first celebrated Book Day together. Daisy had a busy day ahead of her with her royal duties as monarch of the empire, so Luigi suggested that, when she finished, she put on her best clothes and join him in the library to have dinner together and relax after her tiring day. He doesn't know yet how he was able to conceal the nerves that gripped every corner of his body.

While Daisy was away, Luigi, with the help of Mario, Peach and Toad, organized everything in the library. The day before, Princess Peach had helped him choose the most suitable dishes for such a special night, so they prepared them together in the morning and brought them to Daisy's home from the Mushroom Kingdom. Together with Mario and counting on his invaluable help and talent, Luigi had composed what was his most romantic song to date, with certain parts in Spanish to surprise Daisy so that she’d truly understand what a huge place she had earned in his heart.

He simply couldn’t see his life without her in it anymore.

Art by mong_milo on X

During the afternoon, Peach and Toad advised Luigi about his outfit, as he was unable to make up his mind and his anxiety was skyrocketing as the time approached. Finally, the princess encouraged him to opt for a dark blue suit jacket, very elegant and appropriate for a proposal, and Toad chose for him a green bow tie and a light blue shirt that enhanced his eyes.

They left for Sarasaland all together when dinner was still a couple of hours away. Luigi was a bundle of nerves, his heart fluttering in his chest like a hummingbird, and he clung to the guitar as if it were a life preserver. Mario made sure to be by his side, comforting him with soothing words and cracking a joke or two to get a few laughs out of him and help him relax.

When they arrived, Daisy had not yet finished, which gave them some leeway. They made their way to the library and Luigi chose the corner by the window to set up the table. Peach and Mario helped him serve the dishes, and Toad took care of placing Luigi's guitar near the table. Luigi was surprised to discover that Mario, secretly, had decided to bring Luigi's violin and ukulele as well, just in case he felt like he needed to de-stress a bit by playing something quieter first before asking Daisy the big question.

Peach disappeared shortly thereafter to meet Daisy and help her choose her outfit, and Mario and Toad encouraged Luigi to practice the song as they’d rehearsed it to try and keep him as calm as possible. Luigi thanked them heartily.

Art by Fioreandresr on Deviant Art

His brother and his friend left him alone shortly before the appointed time. Mario said goodbye with a tight hug that gave him warmth and reassurance, and Toad did with an energetic handshake that elicited a genuine giggle from Luigi. As they left, they continued to wink and cheer him on to wish him the best of lucks.

Then Daisy appeared in the doorway. She was dressed in a beautiful purple dress that matched her auburn hair perfectly, with star patterns on the flowy skirt and a tight, sequin-covered bodice. Her gloves were lilac and a bit longer than the white ones she usually wore, her beautiful hair fell down her shoulders like a cascade made of autumn leaves, and she had put on a light pink lipstick that made it extremely difficult for Luigi to look away from her full and tempting mouth.

He gasped first and swallowed later. She looked more than stunning. She looked radiant. She looked dazzling. She looked breathtaking.

He certainly seemed to have forgotten how to breath.

He was going to propose to the most beautiful woman in all universes and his heart galloped wildly in his chest at the mere thought.

During the date, despite his nerves, Luigi was able to give Daisy the attention she deserved while she told him about the boring day she had had as she was forced to attend to her royal duties. For her, this dinner meant being able to relax and be herself at last, plus, of course, having a nice time in the best company. She didn’t fail to praise the food that, again, he had prepared, though Luigi made sure to point out that Peach had helped him this time, especially with the dessert, a delicious marble cake that they’d chosen especially for her, as it’s Daisy's favorite.

The princess, as smart as ever, noticed that Luigi had brought his three instruments with him, and asked if he could play one of her favorite pieces on the violin after dinner. Luigi, relieved to have a little more time to work up the courage to ask her to marry him, didn’t hesitate to oblige. Daisy closed her eyes and rocked to the melody, enjoying every note Luigi played for her, and he found himself feeling more and more relaxed as the piece progressed.

Next, since he hadn’t jammed any verses for Daisy in a very long time, Luigi opted to pick up his ukulele and let himself be carried away by what came from his now tranquil heart. He serenaded Daisy about her beautiful hair the color of autumn leaves, about the constellation of freckles that dotted her lovely cheeks, about the deep, beautiful sea into which he plunged every time he looked into her eyes, about how the dress she wore tonight made her look like a shimmering star fallen from the firmament. Daisy felt her heart swell more and more in her chest and a lump form in her throat at the profound and sincere love that this sweet man felt for her, which she, of course, reciprocated. She felt like the luckiest woman in the world. She knew she was the luckiest woman in the world.

Then, after a few cuddles and kisses, it was time. Luigi stood up, switched the ukulele for the guitar and turned to Daisy with the instrument ready in his hands, the princess gazing at him with her blue eyes shining with anticipation and affection, a soft smile in her beautiful and full lips.

And just before he started singing his new song, Luigi realized that he felt no trace of nerves.

(Song: Cuando cae la luna, Estopa)

He began to play the first notes with confidence and poise, his eyes fixed on Daisy's, piercing her with his intensity. His voice came out steady and serene, flowing effortlessly, as easily as the air flowing in and out of his lungs. It felt like this was what he was meant to do, the reason he was born. After all, he was expressing his feelings to the woman he was deeply in love with and for whom he’d give his entire life without a second thought. For him, it was simple, natural, spontaneous. For him, loving Daisy was like breathing.

The princess had stood up to listen to him with her full attention and, also, to dance, but, given the passion that radiated from Luigi's eyes as he sang for her and only for her, she remained staring at him spellbound, mesmerized by his deep voice, his beautiful words and his gaze full of sheer adoration and devotion. She just rocked softly, with a sweet, soulful smile on her lips, whose color matched perfectly with her dazzling dress and her tanned skin. She couldn't take her eyes off Luigi's.

He had been approaching her as he sang, smiling assuredly, also swaying to the rhythm of the melody he was creating. He felt entirely in his element, not just confident but also delighted, enjoying the moment to the fullest, and Daisy’s entranced expression only encouraged him to go on. She made him feel brave, strong, capable of anything, and he decided to allow himself to be carried away by the boldness she roused in him and started to kneel slowly to her attentive and surprised gaze. His grin widened when Daisy, realizing that Luigi was now singing in Spanish, put a hand to her chest with an amazed gasp.

“Y yo te digo: ¡morena, vente conmigo! ¿No ves que me desespero? Escucha bien lo que digo: prometo llevarte al cielo si te casas tú conmigo.”

Daisy gasped even louder and covered her mouth with her hands. She remained like that for a few moments until she managed to breathe again, but her breath sounded choked with emotion and her body began to tremble before the first tears sprang to her eyes. Noticing that Luigi, concerned, stopped playing and sat up, one arm outstretched toward her, Daisy was quick to nod, shaking her head up and down frantically as a strangled sob broke from her throat and ended up turning into a high-pitched shriek. She pounced on Luigi as she laughed and cried at the same time, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing him with all her might, and he barely had time to let go of his guitar to return her embrace with the same intensity.

Delighted at her reaction and relieved to have been able to carry out the proposal as he wished, Luigi chuckled as well and began to spin around with her in his arms, at which Daisy raised her head and stretched her arms out to her sides, laughing with joy as tears of pure emotion spilled down her cheeks. Her auburn hair and flowing skirt danced with the movement, creating a myriad of colors that made it impossible for Luigi to look away. She was more beautiful than ever.

As he twirled, Luigi couldn't stop gazing at her. After a few giggles, Daisy returned his glance fervently and rested her arms around his neck again. Luigi stopped swirling little by little, his eyes trapped in those of the princess, his girlfriend, his future wife, the queen of his heart. She slowly leaned towards him with a knowing smile. Luigi also drew one quickly before their lips met and started devouring each other with passion.

That night they danced a dance in which neither music nor words were necessary.

Just the two of them.

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Thank you so much for reading! Here are the reblogs the original post got so you can read other people's opinions if you'd like. Of course, thank you so much to each and every single one of you for your lovely feedback! 💖

-@dragon-fly34's reblog.

-@vulpixfairy1985's reblog.

-@teegeeteegee's reblog.

-@peaches2217's reblog.

-@itsavee4117's reblog.

-@knighted-princess's reblog.

-@dragon-fly34's answer (sorry I didn't get to reply btw! 🙏).

Of course, thank you to @wahooitsamee, @megamagimugi, @kelbreyworshipper and @ask-rosalina-and-her-family for your lovely comments on the original post! I deeply appreciate it 🥰

Also, I hope it's okay if I ask those of you who already reblogged the original post to perhaps consider reblogging this one too, so it reaches a wider audience now that it's fixed. I'd sincerely appreciate that 🥰

Comments and likes are obviously more than welcome too, and please remember that my asks and PMs remain open for whoever would like to reach out, share an idea, ask me anything...

Thank you so much for your help in building up this new blog, and I hope you're ready for more Luaisy and musicians content coming in the future 🥰

EDIT: I would just like to add that it's totally fine if you'd like to create something inspired by this post, as long as you properly credit me, of course! That's all I ask for 💖

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bimoonphases · 2 months

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@wolfstarmicrofic July 27 - prompt 27: Fix-It [word count 851]

In the end it hadn’t been love. It hadn’t been James’s voice, strained from the war but still asking him how he was. It hadn’t been his mother cooking his favourite meals each time he visited her. It hadn’t been Lily’s smile, tired but still there despite all. In the end it had been an argument. And not even the logical one, between his fear and his conscience, but one he had eavesdropped on late one night, scurrying in the shadows on the streets after two who still called him friend.

Even the Dark Lord didn’t really trust werewolves and he especially didn’t trust Black renegades, so he had ordered Peter to follow them. At first they had only walked, not even holding hands as he was so used to seeing them do back in Hogwarts. Then, as they were crossing an empty park, Sirius stopped.

“Please tell me it’s not you,” he blurted out.

“What?” Remus turned around frowning.

Peter had stopped in a flowerbed nearby, half-burying his rat frame under the most scented flower there. He knew Remus retained some of the wolf’s nose even in human form. But even from there he could see Sirius’s pleading look in the lamppost lights. For the first time in months, he felt sorry for him.

“Please, Moony. Please tell me it’s not you.”

Remus’s eyes widened.

“You think I’m the spy?”

“You’re away most of the time… With Greyback’s pack.”

“Yes. On Dumbledore’s orders,” Remus’s voice was cold.

“You don’t even look at me anymore!” Sirius shouted. “You don’t touch me, or kiss me, we haven’t fucked in Merlin knows how long!”

“And you can’t stop talking about your family!” Remus shouted back. “Since the beginning of the war it’s been about what have your parents been up to, or your brother-”

“Don’t talk about Regulus.”

Peter buried himself further under the flower. Like Sirius, he only knew Regulus was missing and presumed dead. But what he knew and Sirius didn’t was the fit the Dark Lord had thrown when the Black heir had disappeared without a trace.

“Or even your bloody cousins you’ve hated your whole life!” Remus went on. “You went from ignoring their existence to talk about them every single day!”

“Wait… You think I’m the spy?”

There was a moment of silence, each of them staring at the other.

“I left my family! I ran away because they would’ve killed me!” Sirius was screaming now. “I spent my whole life distancing myself from their beliefs!”

“And I spent mine making sure the people I love knew I’m not a monster!”

“You really think I would betray everything I have, everyone I love to go back to my awful family and the wrong side of the war?!”

“You think I would join a pack of werewolves who are at that side’s beck and call?!”

They were panting when they stopped screaming, and Peter could see tears glisten in Remus’s eyes. Sirius was openly crying by now, his sniffles the only sound in the whole park.

“I’m sorry,” they chorused.

“I know the missions are taking a toll on you, I’m so sorry, Moony, I…”

“And I know there’s no way you would fall back with your family, I’m sorry, Pads…”

“None of us is the spy,” Sirius took Remus’s hand in his. “It’s this bloody war.”

“We’re exhausted and on edge,” Remus nodded, getting closer to Sirius. “None of us is the spy, it’s as ridiculous as if we were to think Prongs or Pete were.”

Peter’s whiskers twitched.

“I love you, Remus Lupin.”

“And I love you, Sirius,” Remus smiled. “And as soon as this war ends I’m marrying you so you will never have to use that surname anymore.”

They were still kissing when Peter scurried away, his tiny heart beating faster, his mind wondering if rats could cry.

So in the end it had been an argument. It might have been love as well, to be fair. Not that it mattered now, as he was facing Voldemort himself, doing his best not to tremble.

“The McKinnons, Wormtail,” Voldemort said slowly. “I want them dead. All of them. Starting with Marlene McKinnon.”

Peter couldn’t stop a shiver running down his spine at the order and the use of his nickname. Wormtail was the brave little soul doing his best to help a friend in need every full moon. Wormtail would live on in the Marauders’ Map they had left in Hogwarts on their last day. Wormtail would never have done what Peter had done. Wormtail would never do what was being asked of him. He took a deep breath.

“No.”

Voldemort narrowed his eyes.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me. You will never win this, and it’s high time I got out before I can’t turn back.”

How fitting his last words were the only time he felt as brave as James. As he slowly fell on the floor, the reflection of a bright green light in his eyes, his last thought was for him.

Please, never let Prongs find out what I almost did.

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vinylfoxbooks · 2 months

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July 27 - Steam | @jartylusmicrofics | wc: 1030 Implied NSFW, nothing explicit

James throws their bag down by the shoe rack as soon as they walk through the door to their flat, exhausted, before calling out to their boyfriends, “I’m home.”

“We’re in the kitchen, love.” Regulus’ sweet voice responds, and James follows it until they’re in the kitchen dining room area where Barty and Regulus are sitting around the table with plates of food in front of them. When Regulus sees them, he smiles, “Foods on the stove, serve yourself up.”

James nods and leans down to kiss both of their boyfriends, “Have you guys been waiting long?”

“We just sat down to eat.” Regulus shakes his head. James nods and quickly grabs themself some food before sitting down with Regulus and Barty, the three of them starting to eat.

They eat in silence for a while before Barty finally hums, “You’ve been working late a lot, J. Is everything alright?”

James shrugs, “One of my coworker’s kid has gotten sick recently and so she’s not working her full shift. And since we need at least three people on the floor at all times, I’ve told her that I can cover for her until someone else can come in.”

“You know you don’t have to do that, James.” Regulus furrows his brows, “I’m sure that she can get someone else to cover for her so you don’t have to work overtime all week.”

James shakes their head, “Doesn’t matter. My boss was telling me that since I worked so much this week that he’ll kick me out if I try to go into work tomorrow so…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Barty sneers, “Your body isn’t used to working the way that you have been so you’re stressing it out. You need to stop taking shifts for her.”

“But her kid…”

“And someone else can cover for her. If she can’t stay for her entire shift, she can talk to some of the part timers or whatever.” Regulus shakes his head, “Yes, her kid is sick, but you also have a life. You also have a family.” He gestures to himself and Barty, “You have people that you need to get home to for dinner, don’t sacrifice yourself and your time just because your coworker’s kid is sick.”

Barty nods, “You’re not the only one that she works with, other people can help out too.”

“I guess.”

“And I know so.” Barty pushes, “So, I say that with your day off tomorrow, you’re not doing shit. Reg and I are going to take care of you, help your body relax -- I mean, look at how tense your shoulders are -- and you’re going to fucking like it.”

James tries to force their shoulders to relax, “I guess.” The three of them finish up dinner and get ready for bed since it’s later than they normally have dinner and James is tired.

The next morning, James wakes up to Barty having made breakfast for them and the three of them eat in bed, cuddling and hiding in each other’s warmth in the cold flat -- James is like a walking oven all the time, Regulus is always freezing, and Barty is usually the perfect temperature so they balance each other out pretty well -- before Regulus and Barty end up pushing James into their bathroom.

Regulus gets the water going while Barty slowly undresses James, kissing along their body whenever another piece of skin gets revealed, squeezing their ass before pulling away to undress himself. Regulus follows soon after when he’s finished putting some oils into the bath.

Every time James is grateful for them actively looking for a flat with a jacuzzi bath that’s large enough to fit the three of them comfortably. This time they’re just as grateful when they lower themself into the bath after Barty gets in, leaning into his chest and watching as Regulus slowly climbs in after them.

When they’re comfortable, Barty takes some massage oil that smells fucking delightful and rubs it between his hands, starting to work on James’ tense shoulders while Regulus perches himself on James’ lap, reaching for their shampoo and starting to work it into their hair. James allows their hands to roam Regulus’ body, running over his top surgery scars, up and down his arms where he lathers the shampoo into their hair, groaning at the feeling of Barty’s fingers working expertly over their muscles, his hands going lower and lower.

The bathroom fills with steam as Barty and Regulus continue to pamper their partner, Barty massaging all of the knots and tension in Jame’s muscles until they’re practically putty in his hands while Regulus washes out the shampoo and exchanges it for conditioner, fingers deftly massaging their scalp. James can almost feel themself falling asleep under the soft stimulation.

At one point, when Regulus is finished cleaning up James’ body and hair, he turns on the jets in the bathtub, which adds to the experience tenfold. Shortly after that, Barty finishes up with his working over of James’ muscles and lets his hands slip down James’ sides, reaching towards their crotch with one hand and allowing the other to reach out to Regulus and pull him closer to their bodies. “And now,” he mutters, voice low, “The second phase of our plan begins.” Then he leans forward and starts kissing at James’ neck, their head falling back against his shoulder.

When the three of them get out of the bathtub, their fingers are wrinkly and they’re all thoroughly satiated. James offers to make them all lunch but they’re almost too tired to stand up from where they’ve all settled back on their bed, so Barty ends up standing up and preparing something for them.

When he returns, it’s with some food on plates and he settles down once again, handing out the plates, “How’re you feeling now, J?”

James hums, half asleep but accepting the food, “Good, thanks you two.”

“It’s no problem at all, love.” Regulus says, reaching up to run his hand through James’ slightly damp hair, “Now, are you going to be accepting any more long shifts just because your coworker asks you to?” James shakes their head so he hums, “Good.”

#I love pampering james #like James fleamont potter is self sacrificing to the max #and sometimes they just need a little love #marauders #james potter #regulus black #dead gay wizards #james x regulus #barty crouch jr #james x barty x regulus #james x barty #regulus x barty #microfic

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oftenderweapons · 2 months

Text

Bourbon Bossa Nova | MYG | Pt.1

This story is part of the Blue Crush Collab

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (nicknamed Sunny)

Wordcount: 7k

Rating: 18+ (This part is pretty innocent, but Part 2 will feature mature content)

Genre: strangers to friends to lovers, composer!Yoongi x lifeguard!YN

Content warning: swearing, alcohol, allusions to sexual thoughts. Allusions to death, child abandonment and family loss.

Synopsis: when you start your summer at Honeycomb Cove, you're only expecting sunshine, waves and annoying teenage bravado as you work as a lifeguard. What you don't expect is Min Yoongi. He wasn't expecting you either. Soon your morning walks are your favourite part of the day, until you realise it's not really the walks, maybe it's always been him you are, after all, waiting for.

Shoutout to the incredible folks who helped me find courage to keep believing in this fic - and finally posting it. To Mars (@joheunsaram), To Bells (@youtifulhobi) to Yannie (@ressjeon), my power squad who believed in this fic (and in my writing skills) more than I did. Here's to me finally breaking my dry spell!!! And to some of my old and new supporters and cheerleaders @lelegzem0, @aanncchhuu, @blushingatyou and @percheee (other people are most definitely in this list but Tumblr is limiting my access to previous notes so I can't find you all) You folks are part of the reason I'm still rolling in the dust here on Tumblr

Part two out now!

Here's my masterlist, just in case you're new

Also: disclaimer! (very important, I should have put this first) I'm not Brazilian, and I have very little familiarity with Brazilian culture, but I really wanted to do a shoutout to this incredible country, its people, its art and its music. If you have any notes you would like to leave regarding Antonio's characters and Yoongi's attachment to Brazilian culture, you are the most welcome, both here in the comments and in my blog. I'd love to learn more 💜

Enjoy the fic!!!

May is a great thing. Flowers everywhere, the smell of sunscreen starting to spread in the air, orange dawns, hair getting frizzy with salty air and too much time in the water. Sand under your toes, loose linen garments, wearing a sports bra and a pair of shorts all the time, throwing an oversized sweater on when the night gets too cold, the smell of citrus and geranium to keep mosquitoes away.

Early summer is great. Way better than midsummer and August. May and mid-September had always been your favourite times of the year: the beginning felt like sparks starting to burst, and the end felt like the natural conclusion of things, that languid nostalgia sweeping in gently, like the soft wind ready to carry in autumn days and blow the leaves away.

The smell of rosemary and lavender and juniper accompanied you to the beach as you walked down one of the side alleys.

“Good morn’ Earl!”

The old man turned to greet you as he kept watering the hibiscus bushes before the sun became too blinding, burning the poor flowers. “Morning Sunny!”

“Remember your heart pill!”

“Sure! Already took it!” Earl shouted back, his voice bubbly and bright.

You waved at him as you kept walking, ready to meet your next friend. “Hello Rosa!”

“Hi Sunny!”

The old lady already had her cocker spaniel on a leash, ready for her morning walk. “When’s Mindy coming around this year?”

“Mid-July. And she’s taking her children too!” The woman looked ecstatic about her daughter visiting.

“That sounds amazing! I really have to rush, bye Rosa! And bye Lemon!”

“Lemon say bye!” Rosa told her dog, making her bark just in time before you started your jog.

Being a lifeguard was great. It was the life you had always dreamed of. You had always worked out to fit in the lifeguard guidelines requirements, and a good ninety percent of your decisions had been oriented to making sure that you could be a lifeguard from the second week of May to the first week of October — that is the entirety of tourist season. Once autumn arrived, you would resume working at the retirement home: it was only your second year with that working arrangement, and you weren’t sure it would work at first, but your grandmother being the godmother of the director of the elderly institute guaranteed you would always find a spot working there; plus, they were also constantly in need of an extra set of hands, especially if those hands came with a degree in nursing.

You’ve always known you wanted to work in elderly care just as much as you’ve always known you were made to be a lifeguard. Your parents were worried over the sort of sacrifices and strains that such an occupation would entail: all the caregiving, and the cleaning and the affection you spend on people you’re inevitably going to lose; yet it felt natural to you. Sure, some people can be antagonistic and diffident, in some cases you end up being more of a nanny than a nurse, but most of the time, it’s worth it. After two years in this field, the ups are definitely brighter than the darkest lows, and you’re under the strong impression that it will keep being so.

Back to the glorious morning in front of you, you took off your flip-flops as you reached the best place in the world: the golden beach of Honeycomb Cove. Smiling, you fixed your cap on top of your head and walked to your tower, depositing your stuff in the cabin before going for your morning run. As you were opening the umbrella, taking in the blue infinity of the ocean before you, you spotted an unfamiliar figure below, a big fisher hat on its head, a long-sleeved white shirt covering its arms, a stick in one hand while the other was pressed to his lower back in a fist.

“Hi, hello there!” you greeted, a wide smile for the small, old man walking on the shore before your tower. The bizarre figure lifted his head up, eyes squinted, his button nose curiously pointing about as he looked for the voice.

“Over here! Good morning, sir!” You waved energetically at him, the man frowning — not that you could notice that, because of the distance and the hat.

“Morning?” he greeted back in confusion before continuing his walk.

Yoongi was extremely confused when he heard the voice. His night had been too long for him not to suppose he was hearing voices. Maybe his time had finally come and that was the call of some deity summoning him to whatever comes after the struggles of the living.

What he didn’t expect was for the voice to call again, this time the source clearly identifiable. He squinted at the lifeguard tower and offered a small wave in greeting.

She — that had to be a she — seemed to be set alight in sunlight, the early morning light making her glow in something brighter than gold.

He had a precise image in his mind for a second, something his grandmother had told him when he was a child. Something like mythology, like Achilles’ halo of hair, or Helios who carries the chariot of the Sun.

He shook his head and continued walking, turning around only once he was several feet ahead and her long legs had carried her in the opposite direction, her wide strides amazing Yoongi, who could just stare at her golden, looped locks bouncing as she played with the back-and-forth of the tide, running along it.

For a second, Yoongi thought of The Girl from Ipanema, shortly before remembering all the controversies behind it, and how much his grandmother hated the song because of “the male gaze”. With chastised pupils, he let his gaze fall back to the fragments of seashells at his feet, the distant fall of her feet meeting the sound of the tide calling to his ears in a hypnotizing beat.

All the way back to his home, Yoongi let it ring and echo through all the empty halls of his brain, until he could finally — although artificially — recreate it in the calm of his home, and let it resonate through its corridors.

Yoongi would define himself quite a reserved man. He had his home — an old Victorian-style house in the more quiet and deserted part of the bay, too inhospitable for tourists, still linked to the naval history of the cove. He had renovated the house after his grandmother had left it to him, replacing the old wooden axes with new, not rotten ones, repainting the walls and repolishing the floors, installing soundproof panels on the room he had decided to turn into his studio.

It had only been a short while since he’d moved into the beach house; his college in San Francisco and his scholarship and research in New Orleans had sent him spiralling between opposites, diving deep into sounds he wasn’t entirely familiar with, and in a bout of homesickness and confusion, he’d decided to return to his true roots, to his true north.

Here he could daydream of green hills and golden beaches of a faraway place that he could only imagine through the saudade of an old immigrant. He could feel the beat of that city that was nothing but an overgrown village, the roaring of cars on dirt roads, and that open-armed man that seemed to be every man, every woman, every human being in that open-armed city — that all-forgiving man that seemed to welcome strangers, with their weary feet and guilty souls.

He knew the place that inhabited his wildest dreams, his most romanticised visions, no longer existed. It had been erased by decades of progress and politics and human greed. That place where all his bedtime stories took place was no longer, and maybe it had never been. Yet Yoongi longed to reach that all-forgiving stone man and feel, just feel how the rolling waves carried all the nostalgia and the sins and the tears of those lost souls that reached a new land hoping for fortune and maybe a brand new start.

He too was something in between worlds. Son of a woman adopted by a foreigner and a man lost in time, somewhere. And there was nothing more foreign to him than the woman who had raised him, the same woman who had given him the house he was living in. He had always been drifting in something somewhat estranged. His mother had been a nobody, abandoned before an orphanage, the only known facts were her name — Moonbae — and that she had been abandoned as the last of sixth children, her family too poor to afford her. As a twist of fate, she had then been adopted by an American anthropologist — Yoongi’s grandma — who had always respected her will to stay away from her past. Still, loss persecuted her, her loving, if a little taciturn adoptive father passing due to a mysterious disease somewhere in Guatemala.

It took several years for Beatrice and Moonbae to settle in the old colonial house in Honeycomb Cove; Trice had returned to her great-grandmother to assist the incredibly old lady to her last breath. Needless to say, she then inherited the house. The women lived sheltered, quiet lives until Moonbae got pregnant. A summer fling, that was all it was, the man a fleeting tourist who took a risk too many, fathering a son he would never take care of.

His absence was filled by someone who looked the exact opposite of the little moonbeam of a child, laying pale and tranquil in his cradle, lulled by strange, exotic songs that his grandmother had perfected for him.

Beatrice fell in love with a man who became everything to Yoongi — someone Moonbae never approved of, so much so that she decided to leave town when her son was maybe four years old. She never returned. Beatrice never looked for her either.

Antonio was eighteen years younger than Beatrice, his skin a rich cinnamon shade, his accent so thick that it took a while for Yoongi to decipher the heavy Brazilian cadence in the man’s English.

Yoongi preferred when Antonio spoke Brazilian Portuguese, anyways. By the time the boy was fourteen, he and his acquired grandfather easily conversed on the wooden patio, drinking lemonade, a guitar in the man’s arms. Antonio taught Yoongi everything, the boy so taciturn, so eager to listen, that the nationless musician let all his woes and nostalgia pour out. And maybe the man was no citizen, something in between an exile and a fugitive, but in that old house, he found a home, with Trice constantly refusing to marry him and loving him like a madwoman at the same time.

Yoongi doubted love like that could exist anymore. A love so strong that when she had passed, Antonio had magically drifted away together with her a few months after, disregarding his significantly younger age. What the not-so-old man would never say was that he passed in tranquillity, knowing that he had taught his spiritual child all he had to offer.

And just so, Yoongi won a scholarship, all because of the easy, wordless afternoons when Antonio taught him to play three instruments and speak that language that reminded Yoongi of his old cat, Sweeper, and the way he lazily rolled around in the sun.

Now he was just a young man graduated from a prestigious music academy in San Francisco, two of his compositions had been featured as soundtrack in a couple movies, and he was already producing for a small recording studio specialised in chamber music. He didn’t make much money out of it, to be true, but sometimes he managed to have an extra income with royalties, and he was currently composing his first mixtape — for which a studio had already contacted him, and the fact that Antonio had introduced him to some of the most influential artists in the San Francisco scene had quite definitely jump-started his career.

He was living a cool life, the kind of life he had always seen himself living. He worked at night and finished his day at seven am; then he would head out for a walk, when the sun was still gentle in summer and when it would be barely up in winter. And next, he would sleep. Wake up around five pm. Get some food ready and start all over again. He’d returned to Honeycomb Cove only six months prior, so he hadn’t yet entirely reconnected with his local social circle, plus most of his friends were still in college, which meant that it wasn’t that easy to arrange a get together. But to be true he was quite excited about Seokjin being back in town and spring break approaching. By summer come, they would all be a great team again and he would feel like he had all the time in the world.

His musings were interrupted by the doorbell. That had to be his pizza. It was almost eleven and Gerry, the old Italian man who owned the pizza place at the end of the street, always knew that Tuesday night meant late night pizza for Yoongi.

He grabbed the money — already perfectly calculated so he could pay for the pizza and leave a tip for the delivery boy, Pippo. But tonight it wasn't the delivery boy knocking at his door. As he opened it, he found a wondrous mass of blond curls right in front of his eyes. “Oh, hi!”

“Hey!” The voice sounded chirpy, familiar.

A sudden breeze pushed the stranger’s perfume past the doorway, the scent crashing over Yoongi like the surf. God she smells good, Yoongi thought, lips agape as he stared at the woman in his doorway. It was a mix of coconut and papaya, the scent overpowering the tasty smell of his pizza.

You put on your friendliest, warmest, brightest smile, then said: “We met on the beach right? You must be Min Yoongi. I'm _____. Gerry said you always dine alone and told me you could use some company.”

“I'm not a charity case,” Yoongi replied before realising how rude he'd just been.

“Well, that's a funny introduction, Not A Charity Case. Is that the name you chose to go by? Like Jenny From The Block?” You shook your head and looked away. “What told you it's not me who could use a friend. May I?” You asked, pointing at the door, asking if you could enter. “You can ask Gerry. He sent me. I've just arrived for the season and I could really use a friend. He told me you're a good person and you're always alone too.”

Yoongi was almost outraged by your insolence. Were you always so blunt? He was also confused: what kind of setup was this?!

You passed him the pizza and he lifted the lid, checking that it was actually his and that you weren't an imposter, or a serial killer.

'Take the golden retriever girl. She needs a smart friend. -G,’ read a note left inside the box.

“Yeah, I’m Yoongi,” he said, almost defeated. “Come on in, then.” If he found his house entirely stripped of anything worth money, he would sue Gerry.

“Oh. Thank you.” You flashed him a grin.

Yoongi's knees almost caved. What a smile. It was like… like staring at the sun. But in a good way. It was like a blue sky. Soothing. Serene. Cloudless, pacific.

You placed your own pizza box next to his on the counter while at the same time you looked around. “Wow, your house is so pretty. Your family lives here?”

Yoongi opened his pizza and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “I don't have a family anymore.”

You froze. “I'm sorry.” You were already failing at this. That's why your friends all had fake teeth and a medical record thicker than your cookbook. Not to mention the average age.

“It's okay. I got used to that. You should be the lifeguard, right? Wait, would you like some beer?”

You shook your head. “I'd like some water please.”

Of course you would, he realised. You had to be one of those health freaks. He could already anticipate how easily he could make you run from him with his suicidal diet.

He placed a glass beside your pizza box before sitting down and getting ready to dig in. “I still owe you the money. From the pizza.”

“I already paid for both. I thought that since I wasn't bringing you a housewarming present, I could at least buy you some food.” You took a slice and started eating up, humming and nodding at the taste. “I get why he works so much. This pizza is heaven.”

“Yeah. All the kids here grew up on sunshine and Gerry's pizza,” Yoongi mentioned casually. He liked that you talked with your mouth full. He did, too. Beatrice had never liked that.

“Are you from the neighbourhood?” He asked before wolfing down another slice.

“Kinda. I live a bit farther into the mainland. I used to come here on holiday when I was little. With my parents.” You took a sip of water as Yoongi learned one more thing about you.

“I thought so. I don’t really remember you from growing up, and me and my friends know all of the locals.” Yoongi studied your face, trying to dissect any detail that could make you familiar.

“I see. You’ve been raised here, I assume?”

“Yup.” The silence is heavy, but at least you can distract yourself with food. “So, lifeguard? That your dream job?” He said it sarcastically, almost evilly before he realised you were nodding eagerly and happily.

“My great-grandpa was a sailor. I've always wanted to live by the sea.” You munched on the crunchy crust, Yoongi blinking rapidly.

Making fun of you felt like shooting a dead body. There was no use — and no mercy — in doing that. “Shouldn't you be in college or something?”

“I took nursing school. And I'm old enough to be out of college.” Yoongi’s tone had really made that sound like an insult, but you tried your best not to assume the worst.

Yoongi tried to get on his better behaviour. You were a new person, you wouldn’t understand his sardonic tone. “I'm sorry,” he said, contrite.

“For what? Me being a certified nurse and a person in charge of other people's lives? I know I look stupid, no need to rub it in.” You arched an eyebrow, rather fed up with the weirdness of this exchange, of the man sitting before you. You stood up and closed the box of your pizza, still half uneaten. “Sorry I disturbed your night. Enjoy your meal—”

“Wait, no! Don't go, please.” He didn't know what suddenly convinced him to make you stay. “I was a dick, I'm sorry, let's start over.”

You hesitated for at least three seconds and then, despite your better judgement, you sat back. “I'm ____. But my friends call me Sunny. It's my middle name. Really. My parents thought it funny.”

It suited you so damn bad. Yoongi wanted to bask in your aura in a hammock with a slight breeze and a samba playing in the distance. “It's a really nice name. It really suits your appearance. And I mean that as a compliment.”

You breathed out the tiniest laugh.

“I'm Yoongi and that's the only name I have. We don't use middle names.” He relaxed once you opened your box once more.

“Where is it from?” You asked, recognising the name being foreign.

“My mom's name is Korean. She picked a Korean one for me too. Just to remind me we're not entirely American.” He was vaguely bitter about that. Maybe just indifferent, you told yourself. That must have been tough.

“That's interesting,” you mused, drinking some water. “How old are you?”

Your question was naive. Childlike. “I'm twenty-three. And you're…?”

“Twenty-four. Twenty-five in a couple weeks.” You smiled and he was once more lost in how radiant you looked.

Once you were finished eating, you rinsed your hands at the sink, helping him get rid of the boxes before shyly following him as he moved to the living room.

“Wow.”

“It's a bit overwhelming, I know.” He looked around, analysing the room through a stranger's eyes. “My grandma was an anthropologist, my grandpa too, though I never met him. She travelled a lot and always brought back fancy things.”

“What's this?” you asked, watching a strange fork of sorts.

Yoongi sat down and grabbed a bizarre little stick, no bigger than a pen, with a large ball at the end. He hit the fork, a soothing, metallic sound coming out of it and the box at its base, amplifying the cold dong. “It's a diapason. It gives a specific note. This one sounds like la. Or A, whatever notation you prefer. We use it to tune instruments like guitars.”

You nodded. “That's interesting. I like it.”

Yoongi chuckled. “It's very soothing, right? It resonates at a frequency that has positive effects on humans. My grandma used to play it when I needed to calm down as a baby.”

Thinking that the coarse man before you had been a baby felt baffling. “And it still relaxes you?”

“It does. But I think it's more of a reflex. I think they trained me. Like Pavlov's dog… Wait, was that Pavlov?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a giggle.

“Sometimes I think I was a strange experiment. That's what happens when you have two scientists in your home.” He shrugged with a funny grin on his face, his cheeks going puffy as he did so.

“It's okay. You lived through that. You're not doing bad for a lab rat. You could be having bald spots by now,” you joked, almost expecting him to get confused or disgusted. Instead he laughed.

His laugh was so soft. He actually looked soft, with his gums out, his cheeks puffed up, his nose curled up cutely. Yoongi was cute. Very much so.

“So, what do you do for a living?”

He blushed to his ears. “I'm a musician. And a producer.”

“Wow. That sounds cool! How does that work?” Your voice was filled with wonder, making Yoongi understand that after all it wasn't like you were dumb. You were just unashamed of not knowing things.

“I make songs. Spend too much time on the computer fixing songs for other people. And then spend a little bit of time with my instruments, going through riffs and melodies, finding little things that inspire me for longer songs or pieces.” Yoongi stopped himself from dumping all of his artistic worries over you.

“You studied at UCLA?” you asked, knowing that was the best place for a person like him.

“Actually, no. My grandfather got me into an academy in the city. I mean, my granny's boyfriend,” he corrected himself. Considering Antonio his grandpa had always come natural to him, but he'd never substituted himself for Trice's husband.

“It's so cute that she found a boyfriend. You mentioned your grandpa passed so I guess she met the guy after?” You posed the question gently, wording it accurately.

Yoongi nodded. “Yup. I was a toddler when they met.”

You hummed. “With all respect to your grandpa, I like when old people find a partner — or at least, someone meaningful to them. It brings a lot of joy and newness in their lives. Partnered old folks have a way less lonely life. And it seems they live longer too! I read a paper for a course back in college.”

Yoongi was pleased to receive confirmation of you being an old people's person. Hopefully you also hated kids so he could actually deem himself safe. “So you actually liked nursing school.”

You bobbed your head enthusiastically. “I’ve always liked the idea of working in a retirement home. Old people have so many stories and so little audience. I like staying with them, helping them write memories they can pass to their overly busy children and grandchildren. And they learn about technology, they play cards. They crochet! Isn't that amazing?!” you exclaimed with a radiant look on your face.

Yoongi realised you were a genuinely generous person. You reaching out to him wasn't just Gerry forcing you to Yoongi's place, but hopefully you needing a friend. It really seemed you could use a pal your age. “And how does that pair up with your lifeguard position?”

You shrugged. “I've always loved the beach. And splitting it with caregiving helps me from taking nursing too seriously. It helps me worry less about people… passing, you know.”

Yoongi nodded. He hadn’t thought about what it means taking care of someone day after day after day, and then suddenly they’re gone. He also thought about the different weights of a job: probably that was the same reason why it had taken him so long to work on his music while delivering piece after piece for commission. He had lost the passionate side of it.

“So, your granny's boyfriend got you into a music academy and then?”

Yoongi smiled, then he started telling you everything about that.

The two of you talked way deep in the night, the initial strangeness turning into easy chit-chat about school, life, family and work… It was almost one in the morning when you realised it was time for you to go. Once Yoongi noticed how long he’d been talking to you, he blushed and understood it was time to say goodnight, no matter how warm and welcome he felt at your side.

He accompanied you to the door, then stood on the porch, waving at you before wondering whether he should accompany you home. “You’re staying here in town, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’m just five minutes away from here. I have my bike.”

“You don’t want me to drive you?” He rubbed the back of his neck as he waited for your reply.

You shook your head. “I’m okay, don’t worry. I’ll be okay.”

Yoongi realised the reason why he felt sad about you refusing was exclusively because he wouldn’t be able to spend more time with you. He was struggling to let go, after only a couple hours of chatting, and at least half of that being awkward acquainting with someone new.

And to further increase his struggles, he could almost hear Antonio scolding him for letting go of someone that made him feel good. “Will I see you tomorrow morning at the beach?”

You were ready to leave when you heard Yoongi’s question. It sounded vaguely insecure, as if he was testing the waters. “Come meet me at seven. I’ll be there.”

Yoongi nodded to himself. He should have asked for your number. Stupid social anxiety.

“Goodnight Yoongi!” You waved from the gate before leaving.

He stood there, arms crossed, shrinking inside his striped polo shirt, its long sleeve doing very little in keeping him warm. So unexpectedly his night had changed. He thought about the percussion riff he’d jotted down that morning around nine, laying in bed, sleepless. For all he knew, you could have possibly changed his life.

He would remember tonight forever.

The following day, Yoongi left his house at six forty-five. You had given him a when, but not an exact where. He was nervous. And he was somehow hoping that seeing you in broad daylight would somehow lessen your magic.

How wrong he was.

He waited for you at the feet of your tower, leaning against it nonchalantly while he almost ran to get there in time. Watching you arrive in sunglasses and a white sundress was definitely something. You looked like the kind of girl that could have starred in Dirty Dancing.

“Good morning, sir!” you greeted, waving.

“Stop treating me like an old man,” he complained, however you heard some irony in his voice.

“Not my fault you behave like one!” you bit back, amused and maybe a little cheeky. “Hello Yoongi,” you tried again, more calmly now that you were standing before him. “I’ll go get changed quickly so we can go on a walk.”

He nodded and looked at the horizon before him, his ears blushing at the thought that you were half naked just a few steps away. You looked so lean and fit and tall and he was… He was struggling not to let his mind run wild. After all you were just a prettily shaped woman. No more, and no less.

All the months that had passed since he’d last slept with someone weren’t a valid reason for him to think of you half naked.

“Let’s go!” you exclaimed, basically throwing yourself down the stairs and taking a few small jumps on your spot — like a golden retriever too excited about going out. You started with a jog, only to watch Yoongi’s panicked look.

You exploded with laughter. “See, I told you! You’re an old man!”

Yoongi hid his smile with a pout before catching up with a few quick steps. “Do you need to run or can you just walk?”

“I’ll walk in the water. Helps me burn more energy and work on my stamina,” you replied, entering the water to the point it reached your knees. “You can walk on the shore. Did you sleep well?”

He looked away.

“Oh, right. You work at night. So— Did you… produce?” You looked down, careful about not splashing him.

“Oh, yeah. The conversation with you was very inspirational,” he conceded. He hadn’t worked half as much in the last four weeks. Listening to the little riffs and chords hidden in your voice was like experimenting with a new genre. It was as if he was building a new theme for you. Something that signified your presence, but at the same time conveyed the fits and starts of meeting someone new, and getting to know them, and discovering something new about oneself from all the analogies and differences they could see with the other person. As much as he was composing about you, about the little bits he’d learned about you, he was in some way also composing about himself.

The process had been thrilling and once he’d finished the first, roughest draft, at dawn, the music felt so vibrant that it could properly and proudly accompany the rise of the sun. It was of course still only a draft, but the way you’d talked deep into the night, the way you’d circled around things until they’d come out right, had inspired him to give it all a try. It didn’t need to be perfect, it only needed to work. And work, in the end, it did. He only wished he had sampled a piece of your conversation — that joke about him being a lab rat… the laughs that followed. It would have been great for a skit.

“You know, I really wish I could listen to your music. I'm kind of curious about what such a quiet person considers noise worth listening to.” You looked at him. “After all, music is just very tidy noise right?”

He smiled. “Yeah, I would agree to that.” He looked at the seashells on the shore. “I'll make you a playlist. I'll include random stuff I like listening to.”

“Oh, I'd love that!” you replied enthusiastically. “We can make a playlist for our walks!”

Yoongi’s ears perked up at that: “walks”, plural, which meant you would do this again, soon. He was pleased at the way you had so casually hinted at creating a routine. He had someone to share music recommendations with. Someone who would maybe recommend pieces to him in return. He realised he was excited about this. So many new sensations, and none of that as unpleasant as he’d thought. He could get used tho this.

Once the two of you said goodbye, he realised he couldn't go to sleep. He was too excited about making a playlist and sharing it with you. Walking with you in the gentle morning sun. Hearing you laugh.

Yoongi understood: he was making a new friend.

Having walks with Yoongi became extraordinary. You started associating him with the tender colours of the shyest sunshine, and the sweet cotton scent of his shirts in the gentle morning breeze. The way his soft locks danced in the ocean air, tangling together, the way his cheeks turned into little ice cream scoops when he smiled at you as you greeted him good morning.

Likewise, Yoongi started adoring sunshine. You ended each of his nights, bringing him into the reign of soft morning light, introducing him to a brightness he'd always much preferred doing without. Truth was that his ears had become acquainted with your vintage summer bops, with the way your steps would automatically sync up with the beat of Pumped Up Kicks when the song started playing, and your little blonde baby curls would end up bouncing by the time the first chorus came around. Sometimes you looked like one of those strange horses trained to match the rhythm of music. Dressage, wasn't that?

And then, you loved his calm acoustic ballads, the relaxing guitar riffs that accompanied the rise of the sun.

Once your shared routine of morning walks was sufficiently cemented, you trained him, like a stray cat, to stick around some more after your walk, convincing him to join you for a morning snack. You always brought him iced coffee and a peach jam sandwich while you drank your aloe and matcha drink before indulging in an avocado toast. He liked your mornings as much as you did. You also probably liked each other too.

Your perfect sunny streak was tainted only by a mildly cloudy morning, during which Yoongi showed up at your tower anyway, an extra sweater on top of his long sleeved shirt. He knew you'd probably be cold.

The striped black number seemed to be big enough for you to fill it up comfortably. After all, you were half a head taller than him, and your arms were significantly longer. At least by three or four inches, he had to admit.

When you showed up, you looked drowsy, your hair was half low and you were carrying a different bag from usual. “Morning old man,” you called, placing your bag at the feet of the stairs.

“Morning, Sunny. Wait. Are those actually knitting devices in your bag? Wonder Woman ____ knits?”

“Shut up. Linda taught me. It's just something to share with the ladies at The Orchard,” you justified yourself. “We'll see if you still joke about that once you get your soft, handmade cosy sweater this winter.”

Yoongi blinked, suddenly realising his expression had been shifting to a pout. “Are you still going to be around this winter?”

You invited him upstairs, avoiding the question for now. Could you wait from September to May to see him again? Could you go so long without him?

As you picked up a half knitted torso from your bag, pressing it to his face, you realised you couldn't. You also realised you had made a naive mistake. You had thought you were domesticating a stray but in the meanwhile you had opened him your home, your heart. You had invested your time in him and that made him much more than a stray. You were giving him a forever home.

“Is this for me?” he asked innocently, gently, rubbing his face against the soft, airy fabric.

“It’s alpaca wool,” you commented drily. You already knew you would give up on your long-term dream sweater only to see him all fluffed up in the pastel mesh of colours. You smiled as he pressed it closer to his face.

“So soft,” he murmured, nuzzling up against the small piece of knitwork. The moment he opened his eyes, you realised his nose was just a tiny bit red from the chilly breeze coming from the sea, carrying a storm in its wake. His cheeks were rosy and puffy, his eyes big and dark. And his eyelashes, so dainty and insanely… flirtatious? He looked like he was seducing you for the slowest of seconds.

You looked away, cheeks aflame. “Let’s go. Before the rain comes.”

Yoongi startled at your tone, cloudy for the first time since that night when you’d known each other too little, and he’d been unforgivably too sarcastic. He followed you like a confused pet down the stairs, then grabbed his earpods and passed one to you.

You were especially thankful for the music now that your thoughts were too scattered for you to form sentences and make some conversation.

“It will rain in a bunch of minutes,” Yoongi commented. “There’s no use walking today.”

You ignored him. Would he leave if you agreed with his statement? Would he think walking was pointless, and therefore there was no reason for the two of you to spend any time together today? Too lost in trying to find a meaning to how sad you felt at the thought of being apart, you didn’t realise a raindrop had hit your nose.

The storm was coming.

An angry guitar riff came on, The Neighbourhood blaring from the earphone as Yoongi grabbed your hand. One drop followed the other, his hand around your wrist as he tugged at your arm, running fast, faster, to a speed that felt ridiculous considering how lazy he always was.

‘I’m going back to 505, if it’s a seven-hour flight or a forty-five-minute drive. In my imagination you’re waiting lying on your side, with your hands between your thighs, and a smile…’

You ran, faster, short of breath, the music carrying you across the sand. You didn’t even realise you were trusting Yoongi completely, even as he led you past your tower, even as he kept running while the downpour broke loose, even as The Beatles came on, singing about jars by the door and lonely people, even as the morning got so dark, the sky like a purple shiner after a rowdy pub fight.

You kept running, Yoongi panting as the two of you finally recognised the fence of his house, the tower barely visible behind the thick cover of rain and mist. “Come on!” he gasped out.

You kept running until you were under his porch. “What the hell, Yoongi! Why didn’t we stop at the tower!?” you scolded him, barely alive, barely breathing — how had he worn you out like this? He was way less trained than you, and yet he’d managed to run by your side, keeping your pace, ending up winded, sure, but in way better a state than you’d thought he would be.

He shook his head, bent in two, his hands gripping his knees. “I was distracted! I wasn’t thinking!”

You shook your head, too busy pulling oxygen into your lungs to fight him back. After a few breathless minutes, you sat down on the first step of the staircase. “You knew it would rain. Why did you come?”

Yoongi felt called out all of a sudden. “I— I thought you were expecting me to come. I don’t have your number so I couldn’t text you. Or call you.” He sat down beside you, his hands pressed in between his knees. “I didn’t want you to worry or think I had forgotten.” He took in a large breath. Somehow the little effort of a confession required way more air than the makeshift marathon under the storm — it was definitely shorter than a marathon. Probably not even a tenth of it. He just knew that was the longest and the fastest he’d ever run, but you were running, and you were so majestic and he just wanted to be part of it.

Yoongi paused, gathered his courage, then murmured, “I didn’t want you to feel lonely.”

You recognised the guitar strums immediately, the song changing once more. You looked at Yoongi, Hozier’s soft voice crooning at your ear. “What about you? Were you feeling lonely?”

He looked away, too shy, too old, too used-to-it to admit it. He had no right to feel lonely when you weren’t around. He had been alone for so long, but loneliness? It had been a stranger to him until he’d learnt your name. “I don’t—”

You pushed his hair off his face, your index finger casually following the handsome curve of his jawline. “Yoongi?”

He finally turned to look at you, once more innocent in the way he seemed to seduce you. He looked so pure and for the first time you felt so desperate to taint him. You needed him to look normal and mundane and you prayed for your crush to fade, for his sinless charms to be washed away so he would show his true colours, because no man should be allowed to be perfect the way he felt perfect to you.

“Yoongi,” you whispered, your heart tied up with pining.

‘Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do.’

You hadn’t realised your eyes were closed until it was too late, the lyrics making you open them only to notice Yoongi leaning towards you, his lips protruding in the most imploring pout you had ever seen.

You were ruined.

You tugged the earpod off, almost throwing it to the ground before hollering a ‘see you ‘round’ and running off in the cold rain.

Yoongi, confused, afraid, sat on his porch as he watched you disappear.

Part 2 will be out now!!

#bourbon bossa nova #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #min yoongi fanfiction #bts blog #min yoongi scenario #min yoongi imagine

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steviewashere · 3 months

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I Love the Look of You (The Lure of You)

Rating: General CW: None for this one! Tags: Post-Canon, Future Fic, Mild Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mostly Comfort, Fluff, Past Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Getting Back Together, Transfem Steve Harrington, MTF Steve Harrington, Bisexual Eddie Munson, Bartender Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Reunions

For @steddie-week | July 5th Prompt: Reunion/Getting Back Together | WC: 1,565

Title from "All of You" by Ella Fitzgerald.

💕—————💕 Eddie had been relocated to Seattle. It wasn’t his decision and it wasn’t his uncle’s. Hell, Wayne wasn’t even allowed to come with him. But he had to go because the government told him to; because a town doesn’t forget a name, a face, an accusation. So he packed up his things, locked the backdoors to his van, and got on with his life.

Didn’t have the chance to say goodbyes. Couldn’t make his rounds. Go to the Henderson’s and hug Dustin until his arms were numb. Go to Robin’s and make promise on meeting up at some hippie queer bar. Go to Steve’s and thank him for saving his life, for a relationship that just barely started. Couldn’t, so he didn’t, so he left.

He’s got a marginally good, boring life now. His name is still Eddie. His face is barely aged. Twenty-five and bartending at some underground thing; men with men and women kissing women, that sort of place. There were familiar faces within the community and they’ve all come to know him, to recognize him as just him and nothing else. So, it’s easy to say his interest is piqued when he spots a new girl’s face.

She’s Eddie’s height. Thick and toned. Tanned, an oddball sort of thing to see come out of Northern Washington. She had an aquiline nose, honey-brown eyes that lidded halfway, average lips that stretched wide over impossibly perfect teeth, and brunette hair that was broken by blonde highlights—it went down to her chest in perfect little waves, barely brushing the outline of her cleavage. And god was she stunning; a dress that left little to the imagination, spaghetti straps, all black with white flowers dotted all over it, and some black velvet kitten heels to match. She noticed him looking, though, and startled with recognition. And that was all the warning Eddie got before she was striding over, fast and determined.

“Hey, there,” Eddie purred, “what can I get a pretty girl—“

“Eddie?” Her voice was rich. Stuck in her throat. Crackling as if her vocal chords were fighting to make the noise. She leaned across the bar’s counter, palms flat to the surface, biceps flexing. And her face came closer to his, eyes scrutinizing.

He cleared his throat. “Uh…Yeah, that’s me. Didn’t think you knew—“

“This is where you’ve been all this time?” She asks incredulously. Her right hand flitters out. Palm wide and fingers long, thick. There are pronounced veins in the back of her hand. She’s built like a boxer, Eddie notices. And for a startlingly fearful moment, he thinks the girl is going to swing at him. But then her hand reaches up to his face. Cradles his cheek. A painted, manicured thumbnail tracing the edge of the gnarly patch of scar by his mouth. Her touch is familiar, so easy to fall into, to crave more of. So he leans into it. May as well.

She assesses him for a few silent seconds more. Hand moving from his cheek to his shoulder to his left hand spotted with rings. That’s when she pulls something off her free hand. Goes to Eddie’s right and slips the thing onto his finger.

Looking down, he nearly sobs. It’s the black stoned ring, silver band, the only ring that ever perfectly fit his fingers. His mom’s ring.

Steve’s ring.

“It’s…” He heaves a deep breath. “Steve?”

However, she shifts at that. Her eyes dart from where Eddie meets them. And she picks at the neatly done cuticles of her left hand. “Not my name anymore, Eds.”

“Not your…Oh,” he says softly, “what’s your name, sweetheart?”

She swallows. Her throat bobbing with it. “Stevie,” she mutters, “I know it’s close to the old name, but—“

“I used to call you that,” Eddie points out dumbly.

Stevie nods. Slow, careful. Her eyes watering. Pointed at some stuck on crumb on the countertop. “You did and it felt good,” she murmurs, “wanted to tell you, but you were already gone.”

Eddie inhales sharply at that. “I was,” he states, soured in his mouth. “I had to go, Stevie. There wasn’t another option.” He eyes her for another beat, looks over his shoulder at the fire exit door, and glances back. “Wanna come outside with me for my smoke break?”

She startles in her spot, but settles back warmly. “I’d like that.”

Mere minutes later, they’re standing shoulder to shoulder in the dingy back alleyway. Cigarettes between their fingers, barely sucked down on.

“I went looking for you,” she says, breaking the tentative silence.

Eddie hums. “Found me all the way out here,” he murmurs, “you here for a while?”

“Live here now, actually. In an apartment near Pike. Not the best place, but it’s comfortable. A little muggy from time to time.”

“Robin come with you?”

Stevie takes an inhale of her cigarette, slow and thoughtful like. Blows it out in one gentle gust. “I wish,” she mutters. “She’s actually over in Boston. University of Massachusetts. Women’s studies, minoring in music. I’m proud of her.”

“That’s great,” Eddie notes honestly. “What brought you out here, Stevie? You running from the law?”

She giggles. It’s a sweet little laugh. Raspy, real, a little raw. Her shoulder bumps his and he swears he sees sparks. “No, I just needed a change of scenery. Figured I would use the last of my college fund to come out here, see the sights, maybe find myself. And, well, looks like I’ve done all that. Not sure what else I’m here for.”

“You have, haven’t you?” Eddie wonders aloud. He bumps her shoulder this time. Sees out of the corner of his eye the soft, pleased smile that warms her face. “May I ask what led to…” He gestures vaguely at her whole figure. “Who’s Stevie?”

“Just me,” she says, easy as that. “Me, but now I’m a girl. It’s kinda silly how I started the whole discovery thing. I thought, y’know, what if I had boobs? Literally just laid in my bed one night, couldn’t sleep, and asked the question to nobody. Liked the idea of it. Fell asleep. Had a dream where I was a girl and…Well, now I’m here.”

Eddie makes an acknowledging hum. “You’re happy,” he breathes, not a question.

“Yeah,” she answers anyway. “I’m the happiest I’ve been since…Not to sour the mood, but since us.”

He flicks his cigarette on the ground, stomps it out, and leans against the brick wall at his back. Looks upon her softly. Gazing.

“I missed you,” he quietly admits, “I think about you every night, you know? What life could’ve been had I not—“

“You didn’t have a choice, Eds. Don’t beat yourself up over it,” she responds. She settles against the wall, too. Smashes her cigarette into the scraps of garbage below them. It’s not the most romantic place, but it feels like theirs. “I missed you, too,” Stevie states just as quietly. “There wasn’t a single damn moment where you didn’t cross my mind. Used to drive everybody back in Hawkins crazy. They’d be playing Dungeons & Dragons and I’d sit and watch, wonder if you kept playing—they always looked at me like they could read my thoughts. And there were times where I’d be driving Robin to work and she’d turn on the radio only to hear that Judas Priest tape you left in the glovebox—“

“Was wondering where that went,” he murmurs.

She laughs something soft from her chest. Wraps her left hand around his wrist. Thumb over his pulse point. “—I always had to tell her that I’d been purposefully listening to it. She always used to look at me with…with grief, a sadness. Used to drive me insane. But I could tell that everybody missed you, too.”

He shifts his arm so that they’re holding hands. Fingers intertwined. Her manicured nails digging gently into the softness of his palm. “Do you think they still miss me?” Eddie asks softly.

“They never stopped. I know I never did.”

His breath stutters at that. Something finally clawing away, opening him raw and aching. “You think enough time has passed that I can go back? That I can talk to them again?”

“I think enough time has passed that you can do whatever you want, Eds.”

He sniffs. Squeezes her hand.

“Does that mean I can have the chance to fall in love with you all over again?”

“As long as you don’t mind that I’m—“

“Stevie, I’ve never minded who you are,” he breathes out. “I just want you.”

“Yes, Eds. Of course you can.”

With that he kisses her. Slow, methodical, all encompassing. Like slipping out of his shoes and hanging up his jacket. Like finding Stevie in the living room in sweatpants and a t-shirt, watching a game on the television. Like fitting in alongside, coming home, being alive.

She pulls back, just a hair, nose to nose. “Come home with me at the end of the night? We can dance to that Judas Priest tape like we used to before.”

“Stevie,” he murmurs, cooing. Her eyes sparkle, the corners of them crinkling at the way he says her name. He hopes to make her smile like that all the time—lips or no. “I would be honored. Nothing more that I want to do than just be with you.”

💕—————💕

#steddieweek2024 #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #transfem steve harrington #bisexual eddie munson #getting back together #fluff #hurt/comfort

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itachanta · 1 year

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Okay, so, I was in bed looking for Tristamp fanart, and I came across a comment online that said Meryl's voice reaching Vash in chapter 12 was cheap, and it happened only because she is "the girl". My mind went immediately ballistic so hard i almost fell to the floor. Like, did we watch the same show at all? (screaming in a fit of rage)

Here i'm going (rolls up sleeves) beware spoilers. (and sorry for my broken english)

Meryl was the start of the show. She was our eyes, the narrator, the witness, and the rope that first tied the main group together (pun intended).

She started following Vash out of curiosity, then by admiration, her beliefs, and a big determination to help him and learn more about him, through danger, even not knowing how to fight or even lift a pistol.

Vash, despite loving humans, was, at the same time, distant to them and closed off. Almost every time, sooner or later, he ended up bringing some form of misery, hurt or loss to the humans around him, or they ended up betraying him. That's why he was called the "humanoid typhoon". We have Jenora Rock as an example. After the downfall with Knives, even Rosa, who seemed to know him for a long time, blamed him and tossed him out of her life. (I'm not roasting Rosa, i understand it's easy to put the blame on others when you suffer a great loss).

Meryl, witnessed all of this, and still followed him.

Meryl, who learned what Vash really is, and saw his markings, and even though she was surprised, she still smiled to him the next day.

Meryl, who was kidnapped to trap Vash into coming to July, and was told the truth about plants and humanity, but still didn't bail.

Meryl, who lost her mentor because of her decision to follow Vash, and didn't blame him, at all.

Meryl, who ran straight to try to save him, even though it was very dangerous and she could have ended up dead.

In the moment Vash was totally robbed of his bodily autonomy, his will, and basically, he was being violated, a tiny human, who followed him around through danger, challenged his views but never blamed him, smiled to him, wasn't afraid of him and supported him, was there, calling his name, calling for him to come back. A tiny human who believed in him, along with Luida, Brad and Rem.

This was specially noticeable when Vash was running, following Rem's voice. We can hear her say to him,"Thank you for protecting my dreams and my hopes", this, refering to her ideals about plants and humans coming together, wanting to create a bridge between them with their help, as she said to the twins when they were kids. And JUST RIGHT AFTER THIS, when he is looking down with sorrow and closes his eyes, Rem's voice calling his name mixes with Meryl's, and with that final push, he opens his eyes with a changed look, this time hearing only Meryl, and he gets out. THIS DETAIL GUYS. THE EYES. THE VOICES. LOOK AT THE GIFS.

THE CHANGE IN HIS EYES?????

Just imagine, after everything he went through, after being psychologically tortured by Knives, what was for him to hear Meryl CALLING HIS NAME and trying to save him. WAITING FOR HIM in a very dangerous place when she could have just, you know, escaped. His hopes in humanity, Rem's values and love lessons, compressed in this small tiny koala person. How can you even think, her voice reaching him, was FREAKING CHEAP OR DIDN'T DO ANYTHING? ASDJLAJKDASHDASKDLASDBASKD (dramatically sharpening a knife)

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hoffmanxfurthermore · 6 months

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Strawberry Sunscreen

(Costas Mandylor as Chase Harper x reader)

Collab w someone.

Content: age gap, daughters best friend, reader is a 19 year old virgin, taboo stuff lol EVERYBODY IS OVER 18 AND CONSENTING

Word count: 3.9k

(Gif by @angels-holocaust)

"I'll be there at 5 :)" You send the text and smile, setting your phone on your desk. Claire, your best friend, invited you to her family's fourth of July party, and you're beyond stoked. This year has been rough on you. You took the year off of school to help your sick mother. Now, at 19, you're starting your senior year of high school in less than two months.

It's a pool party, so you opt to just wear your bathing suit, a dark purple tankini, under your dress. It's not likely that you'll get into the water, but you like to be prepared. The rosy pink sundress fits perfectly, accentuating your curves, the hem reaching just above your kneecaps. Your wavy brown hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, and you complete your look with a pair of small silver hoop earrings and a pair of black sunglasses before setting off to Claire's house.

There aren't a lot of people at the party, just you, Claire, her dad, and a couple of friends that you'd lost contact with since being out of school. It's a little awkward since you don't really fit in with Claire's friends. But Claire made sure to include you in their activities so you don't feel left out.

When everybody decides to get in the pool, you opt for sitting in the sun instead, watching Claire's dad cook burgers on the grill. You aren't sure, but you swear you could see him glance over at you once in a while, trying to be subtle. Especially after your dress came off, while you're lounging in a lawn chair in your swimsuit next to the pool.

As the night went on, the subtle glances turned into innocent flirtation. You blush, not used to the attention. You shyly turn away as he comments on your bathing suit.

Mr. Harper makes small talk with you, telling you he's proud of you for going back to finish high school, asking how your mother is doing. The sun is setting, turning the sky beautiful shades of scarlet and purple. You two sit next to the pool, chatting, catching up since it's been a while since you've visited Claire.

People start to leave, and the party is just about over. Claire's dad had given her permission to have you over for the night, so you change into a large t shirt and some clean underwear, ready to settle in for the night.

"Thanks for inviting me today, I really needed it," you say to Claire as you're both sliding into bed, just a little past midnight.

"I'm glad you had fun," she replies, smiling, "you know me and my dad love having you over."

You both slowly drift off to sleep, the cool breeze coming in through the open window, cooling down the stuffy room as the heavy down comforter covers your bodies.

3:34am.

The bright red LED analog clock on the nightstand nearly blinds you as you awaken in a panic, escaping from a horrible nightmare. Your mouth is drier than a desert. The oversized t shirt you wore to bed is soaked in sweat. Glancing over at Claire, you slowly sit up, trying not to wake her up.

Making your way down the dark hallway of the house, you hear what sounds like liquid pouring coming from the kitchen. As you approach the kitchen, Claire's dad turns to face you, a glass of whisky in hand. You pretend not to notice him looking at your bare legs, barely covered by the fabric of your shirt. He's dressed only in green flannel pants, hanging low on his hips. You stifle the urge to let your eyes roam his body.

"Hi, Mr. Harper, sorry, I just came in here for some water," you say, your voice dry and hoarse.

"Let me." He smiles at you, setting his glass down as he opens the cupboard, pulling out a clean glass. He fills it up with water from the dispenser on the refrigerator door.

"Thank you," you barely manage as you chug the cool liquid quickly, water dribbling down your chin onto your large grey t shirt. Wiping your face on your hand, you set the glass into the sink, your arm brushing against his as you withdraw your hand. You're not sure how to describe it, but that split second contact sparked something inside you. Is this your chance? Your gaze meets his for a second before you quickly look away.

"I should, umm, get back to bed," you say quickly, turning around to leave.

"Wait," he protests. Turning around, you can see he's walking toward you.

Your heart skips a beat as he steps toward you, placing a hand on your hip. The contact makes you gasp.

"I need to say something... Every time I see you, I can barely contain myself," Chase's voice is low, sultry, lustful, "and you looked so beautiful earlier," he confesses.

Your eyes widen in surprise. You've always had a thing for Mr. Harper, but he's your best friend's father. You'd be lying if you said you'd never had your own little fantasies about him, but the idea of actually doing anything with him scares you, not to mention would be the ultimate betrayal to your best friend. Especially given the fact that nobody has ever gotten further with you than reaching a hand up your shirt. Being a virgin, still, at 19 is a little embarrassing, so it's not something you usually tell people.

He takes a step closer to you, standing only inches in front of you, his hand still resting on your hip. He's taller than you are, and his frame is much larger.

"I saw you looking at me earlier..."

"Mr. Harper," you whisper, "I can't." Your heart is pounding in your chest.

"Chase," he whispers in your ear, "call me Chase."

His hand leaves your hip only to travel up to the back of your neck as he gently laces his fingers through your soft, silky hair, causing a slight moan to escape your lips. Shivers run down your spine as he backs you against the counter, and you grab onto the edge to steady yourself. Your face is inches from his neck, and you have to fight the urge to kiss his skin.

"Claire would kill me," you gasp. Chase leans down and levels his face with yours. His lips are just inches away from yours, and his blue eyes feel like they're staring deep into your soul.

"Then we don't tell her," he whispers before pressing his lips to yours. His lips are soft, and they taste like whisky with a hint of peppermint. The stubble scratches your face as you lean into the kiss, your tongue slowly tracing around his plump lips. At that moment, the fear of Claire finding out and how she may react goes out the window. You want him. God, you want him so bad. Chase pulls away from the kiss, his eyes full of lust and the desire to explore your body.

Kissing your neck softly, his hand snakes up your t shirt, feeling the soft skin on your lower stomach, just above the waistband of your panties. You inhale sharply as you feel his hand move down, his fingers grazing lightly over the thin fabric. There's a warm, tingly feeling between your legs, one you've only ever felt in your own bed, thinking of the very man who had his big hands on you right now. You're eager to continue but nervous at the same time.

"Can we, umm," you take a nervous gulp, "go to your room?"

A smile spreads across his face as he nods. He wraps his arm around your waist, leading you to his bedroom. Luckily, his room is across the house from Claire's. But still, he locks the door behind him just in case.

His bedroom is big. A large bed sits against the wall in the middle of the room with a big blue comforter and matching pillowcases on the pillows. The ceiling light is off, but a tall lamp in the corner of the room shines a soft white light in the room.

Sitting on the bed, you smile up at him, trying not to look scared. But he can see the uncertainty in your eyes.

"What's wrong, baby?" He asks, sitting next to you, "if you've changed your mind, I understand."

"I didn't. It's just... I've never had sex before. I'm still a virgin."

His eyes widen with surprise.

"Really? A pretty girl like you? No way."

"I've always been too scared to go through with it. I'm scared the guy will be too rough, or it will hurt, or that I'm not attractive enough..." Your voice trails off as he slowly tucks your hair behind your ear.

"Dont worry," he whispers as he places a hand on your bare thigh, "I'll take care of you. And I think you're gorgeous."

You cover your face as you blush, giggling nervously. Chase slowly pulls your hands from your face and kisses you again, running his fingers down the side of your face and making your skin tingle.

“I’m going to make you feel so good, baby.” Chase whispers against your lips, his hands moving down to your hips. You moan in response against this lips, your arms wrap around his shoulders as he guides you onto the bed, and your head rests on a soft pillow.

Chase’s hips press between yours, his hardening cock presses against your clothed cunt.

A soft moan escapes your lips as Chase begins to kiss your neck, trailing from your jawline all the way down to your collarbone.

You arch your back ever so slightly as his hand moves the fabric up your chest, offering yourself up to his touch, eager to feel the warmth of his hands against your bare flesh. He pulls your shirt up to unveil your soft breasts, emitting a low growl as he takes your nipple into his mouth.

“O-Oh,” You whisper, his tongue swirls around the soft bud, sending shivers down your spine. Your hand laces through his soft brown hair, watching as he happily takes in your breast while his other hand caresses your thigh.

A soft whimper escapes your lips as you feel Chase’s fingers brush over your clothed cunt, feeling your arousal. “You’re so wet for me, baby.” He purrs.

Before you can reply, you’re cut off by feeling Chase’s finger slipping behind the fabric of your panties and into your wet cunt. He continues to kiss your neck softly as he allows you to adjust, his finger moving slightly inside of you. This is a new sensation for you, and you cry out in pleasure.

"You're so tight... fuck," he groans as he pushes a second finger in, "Let me know if it's too much."

"It's... oh god!" You gasp loudly as he curls his fingers inside you, sending a sudden surge of pleasure through your body. He kisses you to muffle your noises as you moan loudly.

"Tell me how it feels, baby," he whispers, moving his fingers inside you faster, his thumb massaging your throbbing clit.

"It feels so good, Chase, oh fuck!"

Chase moans in response as he pulls his hand away, sitting up on his knees. Biting his lip, he tugs at the waistband of your panties and pulls them down your legs. You can see his cock throbbing against the thin material of his pants, and you lick your lips at the sight of it. You pull your shirt the rest of the way off and toss it to the hardwood floor.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, his blue eyes wide with desire as he looks at your body, laid out before him. His comment makes you blush again. Never in a thousand years did you ever think your best friend's dad would be into you after crushing on him for so long.

You don't even care that maybe he's just looking for a quick lay. You don't want to know. Chase could never have a relationship with you without jeopardizing your friendship with Claire, as well as straining the relationship he has with his daughter. He could never do that, and neither could you.

But you want him regardless. You know he has experience. He wouldn't hurt you. Still on his knees, he slowly lowers his flannel pants, and his dick springs free. You gasp at the sight of it as he removes his pants and throws them to the floor.

"Dont worry, y/n," Chase says, catching you gawking, "Relax..." he leans down, slowly kissing from your knee up your inner thigh. You're completely mesmerized with the sight as he looks up at you, his soft lips making contact with the top of your clit.

"Ooh," you gasp as he slowly drags the tip of his tongue over your clit, flickering over it with just enough pressure to make your legs twitch. You squeeze your eyes shut as his tongue travels around the most sensitive spots, his hand making its way up your body to play with your right nipple.

"Oh my god, Chase..." You run your fingers through his hair and buck your hips up as he swirls his tongue all around your sensitive clit and pussy.

"You taste so good," he growls between licks, "so sweet, like strawberries, mmmm..." he moans, his tongue dancing around your dripping cunt and the sensitive bud above it. His words only add to your pleasure. You moan loudly in response, an indication that you're getting close. Chase digs his nails into your thighs, holding your legs apart as you tremble. Sensing your impending orgasm, he quickens his movements, licking and sucking and nibbling.

"I'm gonna cum, Chase," you moan, your voice breathy, gasping for air. His hand moves from your breast to cover your mouth as you come undone. You squeeze his head with your legs, and you scream against his hand, your fingers claw at his shoulders as you cum. As you're coming down, he slowly plants light kisses around your throbbing pussy, looking up at you as your breathing slowly returns to normal.

He looks up at you, taking his hand from your mouth, licking your juices from his lips slowly, savoring every little bit of it.

"How was that, babe?" He asks in a hushed tone, slowly crawling up the bed next to you.

"It was amazing," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, "Thank you."

Chase leans in to press a gentle kiss to your lips, his touch tender. You can taste your fluids on his lips, and despite the initial surprise, you find yourself strangely aroused by the taste.

Feeling Chase shift and position himself between your legs, a shiver of anticipation runs down your spine. Your heart pounds in your chest, eagerly awaiting his next move.

“Are you ready, baby?” He pulls away from you for a moment, scanning over your face for any sign of unease.

You look down to see Chase fisting at his cock, the tip is red and dripping with clear precum. It’s much bigger than you imagined, but you can take it.

“Yes,” You nod, looking up at Chase with pleading eyes. “I’m ready for you to fuck me. I wanna feel cock for the very first time….”

Chase is taken aback at how filthy your words are, seeing as he’s always viewed you as his little girl’s best friend. “That’s what I like to hear.” His voice is a low growl, a smirk tugs at his lips.

You feel the tip of Chase’s cock press against your slick entrance. He watches as your mouth opens and your eyes widen when he pushes his hips forward slightly, just the tip at first.

“Chase..” You whimper, your face scrunching in discomfort the more he stretches you open.

“Do you want me to stop?” Chase asks, stilling his hips for a moment.

You shake your head, assuring Chase that you don’t want him to stop. “Just relax honey, it’s gonna feel so good.”

"Oh my god!" Tears well in your eyes as he pushes further, slowly. It hurt like all hell, but you figured it would pass slowly. Your brows furrow as you look up at him, digging your nails into his shoulder.

Sure enough, the initial pain you felt at first slowly dissipated, and you soon find yourself drowning in waves of pleasure. In that moment, you give not the slightest fuck about anything else besides this newfound bliss that you'd deprived yourself of all these years.

"Chase," you whine as you move your hips to match his movements, to which he responds by picking up his pace. The sound of skin slapping skin and the blissful moans coming from the both of you fill the room.

“You’re doing so well,” He praises you, kissing your forehead softly. You bite your lip, closing your eyes. The bed squeaks below you as Chase picks up the pace, his thumb goes down to your clit to thumb at the sensitive ball of nerves, adding to your pleasure. “How does it feel, baby?”

“It feels….so good.” You whimper, spreading your legs even further to allow Chase to fuck you deeper. You flash a small smile at him, your mouth opening a little wider as small moans spill from your lips.

“Atta girl,” He locks his lips with yours, cupping your cheeks gently. “Your pussy is so ready for me baby, taking every inch.”

“Out of all the men to fuck me for the first time…I’m so glad it was you.”

"I'm glad it was me too, sweetheart," He whispers. "I've wanted this for so long to be able to share this moment with you."

You smile up at him, feeling a deep sense of connection with him in that moment.

You trust him. You feel a certain way you've never felt with anyone before. Wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulder and moaning in his ear, you've never felt closer with anyone else in your life. The sounds emitting from Chase's mouth only add to your pleasure as he fucks you deep. A warm, bubbly feeling starts to develop within you, making your legs twitch. Chase continues twiddling at your sensitive bud, bringing you closer to the edge.

"Oh my god Chase, I'm gonna cum..." You whisper in his ear as he kisses your neck.

"Cum for me baby girl," he says, keeping the same pace, "I want you to cum for me..."

"Ohhh..." You groan loudly as the impending orgasm builds up, "please don't stop, Chase, please..." You beg.

Within seconds, you're wracked with the most amazing feeling you've ever felt in your life. This is totally different than when you're alone in your own bed, fantasizing about Chase. Your own fantasies never measured up to what this man was doing to you in this moment. Your walls tighten around his cock as he fucks you deep and hard, but he never breaks his focus. He fucks you right through your climax, dragging it out. Your eyes roll back and your mouth is hanging open as he presses his thumb down on your throbbing clit.

"Y/n..." he groans, "where do you want me to cum?"

"I don't care," you whine.

"I'm gonna fill you up," he whispers, his lips grazing your neck, making you shudder. He pulls his hand away from between your legs and gently caresses your face, "would you like that, baby?"

"Yes, please, fuck, fill me with your cum, please..." You beg him, looking at him with desperation in your eyes. Chase looks into your eyes as he bites his lip, breathing heavily.

"I don't wanna cum.. you feel so good, y/n... your pussy is so good for me... fuck..."

"Please," you plead with him, "please cum in me."

"Ohh fuck, I love hearing you beg..." he slows his movements, presumably so he doesn't cum too quickly, "beg me more... beg for my cum..." he continues fucking you deep, but really slow, teasing you.

"Chase, please, please cum inside me, fuck me hard till you cum," you cry out, looking up at him, your eyes wide, begging to feel his hot seed spill inside you.

"That's it, baby girl..." he picks up his speed gradually, holding your legs apart, his hands gripping the back of your thighs hard. His hips slam against the back of your thighs as you moan loudly, begging with your eyes.

"I'm gonna cum, y/n.... are you sure?"

"Yes," you gasp.

As soon as you say that, he sheaths his cock deep inside you, throwing his head back and groans loudly as his warm cum spills inside you. You wrap your legs around him and grind your hips against him, desperate for every last drop of it.

"Oh god," he groans, holding his cock deep inside you, "fuck, y/n, so good..." he whispers as he rides out his high.

Gasping for breath, he rolls off of you. He came a lot. You can feel it dripping out of you and between your ass cheeks as you look over at him, gazing into his beautiful blue eyes. You're unable to form words, but your face says it all. This was the most amazing thing you've ever felt in your life. You don't even care that you just lost your virginity to your best friend's dad at 4 on a Friday morning.

"That was so good," you gasp as your breathing slowly returns to normal. He rolls over to his side, facing you, and wraps his arm over your waist, pulling you close.

"It was amazing," he purrs, "I'm happy I could help you experience your first time."

You roll over and cuddle into his chest. He moves onto his back as your face rests against the soft hair and his warm skin, your hand gently resting on his hip.

"Thank you," you sigh happily as you cuddle him close. He reaches up and softly pets your hair. Your eyes are heavy with sleep. It's half past 4 at this point. His big arms wrap around your naked body as he gently kisses the top of your head.

11:23am.

You awaken in a panic, still in Chase's bed.

"Oh my god, Claire!" You gasp as you jump out of bed and rush to get dressed, praying Claire is still asleep. Your legs are shaky and sore. It takes a moment to find your balance. The sudden movement causes Chase to slowly wake up, and he turns his head to face you.

"Mmm, what's wrong, baby?" He mumbles as he rubs the sleep from his eyes as you pull your t shirt back on.

"I fell asleep in here! Crap, it's already after 11. I gotta get back before Claire wakes up."

"Shit," Chase mutters, sitting up in bed, a panicked look in his eyes, "I didn't even know we fell asleep."

As you slowly pull the door open, you barely have a moment to react when the door swings open with almost enough force to put a hole in the wall. Claire is standing in the doorway, looking pissed as all hell.

"What the hell is this?! Are you fucking kidding me?!" She shrieks.

#saw #mark hoffman #costas mandylor #detective hoffman #sawposting #mark hoffman x reader #fanfic #smut #primal doubt #chase harper #Spotify

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meetmyothersouls · 1 year

Note

ok ok so lee seeing the reader around town one day & starts following her. He ends up saving her from another eater? Thank you, I need more lee content!

Been thinking about this all day and I've finally got enough to write it! I hope you enjoy!

First Time for Everything

A Bones & All inspired fanfic

Warnings: stealing money, being attacked, cannibalism (relax it's a bones and all inspired fic), blood, gore, not proofread

July 1989

You’d never stolen anything before. Not even when your friends would go into a Walmart and shoved nail polish and thongs into their purses. They always called you a goody-two-shoes or a scaredy-cat. You wonder what they’d think now as you carry a K-mart bag full of cash from the register you were working at not even 30 minutes ago.

Of course, being newly homeless generated a whole new incentive to steal the money. And even though it was so out of the norm for you, it was so easy. You waited until your line was clear, pulled open a bag, popped the till and calmly grabbed every stack of bills in the register, pocketing what wouldn’t fit. Then, you flipped off your register light and walked out. It wasn’t until you made it to the parking lot that you began to run. And now, the adrenaline high you are coming down from is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. They’ll never suspect you. Not with you being the golden employee that you are. Were. You can’t go back there now.

It’s getting dark, that along with the pointy tips of crumpled up money poking your thigh from the inside of your pockets snaps you out of your thoughts. This morning, you were worried about where you’d stay. It wasn’t the first time you got kicked out of a hotel room, and it probably won’t be the last, but at least now you can afford a new room for the night. If you can find one.

It's hot, one of the hottest nights so far this July. You pull off the thick K-mart polo and throw it into woods, leaving you in your black cami and a pair of khakis. A chorus of cicadas singing from the trees in that line the street almost drowns out the sound of a flirty whistle from behind you. You walk a little faster, not daring to turn your head.

"Hey, little lady," a man's gravelly voice calls out. "Why don't you keep the show going and take the rest off." The man laughs, but it's cut short by a painful sounding cough.

You pick up speed, your Converse slapping the pavement as you quickly turn into an alley, hoping to lose him by your abrupt change in direction, but a thick hand grabs your wrist.

"Let me go!" You yell, attempting to yank your wrist from his sweaty grip.

The man seems to enjoy the struggle, he tightens his fingers around your wrist as he pushes you into a warm brick wall. A tall streetlamp shines an eerie orange light into the alley, barely illuminating the man's features. He's got dark hair, stringy with sweat and grease. One of his eyes is missing and the other is open wide. He looks hungry. Ravenous. And the laugh that rumbles in his throat is truly sinister.

"Keep goin', darlin'. I love a good fight."

Then his tongue is on your neck, tasting your skin. You sob and gag as you inhale the scent of his breath. Sour with alcohol and something metallic.

"Come on, honey. Don't fight me, I just wanna taste-"

"Hey!" A new man's voice yells. "Hey, get off her!"

The man's grip on your wrist loosens enough for you to pull away from him. You take your chance and make a run for it. You dropped your bag of money when Man Number One shoved you against the wall, but you can't risk turning back around. You just have to make it ou-

You're stopped short by a hand in your hair, pulling your head back, bending you almost in half. You scream as Man Number One drags you. He's pulling you by your hair, your heels dig into the ground in front of you, desperately attempting to gain some traction. Your only view is upside down and distorted through the tears building up in your eyes. But, in the dim orange light you see the other man. He's peeling himself off of the ground and his nose is dripping blood onto a forest green crop top. His jeans are shredded, exposing a large amount of his legs, you're not sure if it's because he just fell or if the jeans are just naturally like that or why you're even wondering about the nature of his jeans. He's got a brick in his hand that he's attempting to hide, but even upside down you can see it. You see him look down at you and for some reason he winks. Then you realize, Man Number One can't see him.

Crop Top walks creeps up onto Man Number Two, like a lion stalking his prey. Then, without warning, he slams the brick into the side of his skull with a wet crunch. Instantly, you're dropped to the ground and as much as the landing hurt, the relief feels twice as good. Your scalp throbs and you're sure you're missing a chunk of hair. A set of light footsteps run toward you, and immediate dread sets in again, but it's Crop Top. He grabs you, throwing you over his shoulder. You're not sure if you should be scared or relieved as he places you behind a dark green dumpster.

Crop Top kneels down, looking over his shoulder once to make sure Man Number One is still down.

"Is he-"

"Not yet. Stay here. Don't move until I come get you," Crop Top says. He drops a plastic bag next to you. The money. You're immediately shocked he didn't take it for himself. That's what most people would do. His knees pop a little as he stands back up. He starts to walk off but stops. "And don't watch."

Don't watch? Isn't that like an automatic invitation to watch? You think to yourself. You lean your head back on the brick and close your eyes. You could run right now. You could take your money and get a room for the night and leave this odd encounter right here in this alley, but you don't. Instead, you poke your head out, peeking from the side of the dumpster.

Immediately you wish you hadn't. Crop Top somehow dragged Man Number One and sat him up against the brick wall, maybe 15 feet from where you're sitting. How he did it, you're not sure. Crop Top probably weights 120 pounds soaking wet, but he's managed to maneuver him just right so that he can...

You pop your head back behind the dumpster, unsure of what you just saw. There's no way...

You poke your head out, peeking again. There's a squelching sound, followed by a spatter of blood coming from Man Number One's neck as Crop Top bites into it.

Okay, yeah. He's definitely eating him. This should definitely be a sign to run, right? But you aren't moving. Everything in you is screaming to run. Run the fuck away because this dude is going to eat you next. But you don't. You sit there alternating from watching and hiding. It's like one of those car accidents you can't help but watch, hoping you'll see a dead body, or some fucked up shit like that. You shouldn't want to look, but you do.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, you hear footsteps approaching. You sit up straighter against the brick. His stops in front of you. His white high tops covered in blood and gore. Why would he pick white shoes to wear if he's going around munching on dudes.

"You looked, didn't you?" Crop Top asks.

"I uh..." you risk a look at his face. It's covered in blood. His upper lip, his mouth and his chin are coated in it. You swallow hard. "What are you?"

Crop Top crouches down again, eye level with you. "A person like you," he smiles. "Name's Lee." He holds out a bloody hand. You look down at it then back at him. "Oh," Lee says, wiping his hand off on his shirt, then offers it again. Still just as bloody as before.

"Are you gonna eat me too?" The question falls out of your mouth, you can't stop it. Word vomit.

Lee scrunches up his face, pursing his lips as he tilts his head to the side, contemplating your question. "Mmmm, probably not. Unless you've done something really shitty..." Lee eyes your bag of money with an arched eyebrow and you shift a little.

"My name's Y/N."

"You work at K-mart, Y/N?"

"No," you answer too quickly.

"I've seen you there. A lot."

"I don't work there anymore," you say. "You've been watching me?"

"Every day for like two weeks or some shit," Lee says, like it's no big deal. Though up against eating a whole human, it's probably not. "That your first-time stealing from money from your job?"

You open your mouth, the urge to defend yourself creeping up your throat, but you cut it short. You just watched this man eat someone.

"It's my first time," you admit.

"No shit? Well, Y/N, there's a first time for everything." At this point you notice the grey grocery bag he's carrying. It's full and tied up, dripping slightly with thick red liquid. "Bones and shit," Lee says, and tosses the bag into the dumpster. It lands with a heavy, wet thud. "You got anywhere to be tonight, y/n?"

"Not really, no."

"Not really?"

"I'm homeless," you admit.

"Perfect, let's go."

This time Lee grabs your hand and pulls you up. You grab your bag of money and walk with him looking behind you every so often to make sure no one is following.

"Where are we going?" You ask.

"For a ride," Lee says smiling as he jangles a pair of car keys in front of your face. "Nabbed these off of fuck face back there before he tried to eat you."

"He tried to-"

"Oh, he was going to eat you real good. You're lucky I've been following you."

"How-"

"Shh save your questions, I'll answer all of them when we find his car."

"We're gonna steal his car too?" You ask. The amount of crime you've been involved in today is beginning to overwhelm you.

"You've never stolen a car?"

You shake your head.

Lee smiles. "I think we're gonna have a lot of first times, Y/N."

Tags: @dayafied @soulofendlessbook @fashphotolife @scentedkittenperfection @weasleytwinscumslut @timotheel0ver @mxciscastleintheair @marvelmaniac2000 @lovelyrocker @divine-1 @louievr @love-poems-only @starberry-cake @inlovewithphantasy @alexagirlie @misswestfall @softhecreator @livresjaunes @timmymyluv @inannamoon @harrys-thick-thighs @s-we-e-t-t-ea @timolaurence @its-schmackin-dude @justagirlwhoneedshelp @kteezy997 @sufferingstarlight @xoxoloverb @tropicalrozmajzl @iloveneilperry @syirnge @patronsaintofthetwinks @rosewatergroupie

#TIMOTHEE CHALAMET #timothee x reader #TIMOTHEE CHALAMET FICS #timothee chalamet imagine #Timothee chalamet blurb #Timothee chalamet x yn #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet headcannon #timothée chamalet #bones and all #Lee x you #writing #smut #dark!timothee

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djljpanda · 1 year

Note

Hey I’m new here! And I find it amazing about your writings! Here’s my request, it’s about Wally Darling being the king of hearts, the au it’s from Neonross, so far what I know the AU (cuz it’s in process) it’s about kingdom that it’s divided from hearts, cloves and diamonds kingdom. But it’s unknown about the spade kingdom. (Possibly disappear or extinct by the others kingdoms)

I have been imagine a lot what if… or how about… Wally Darling! King of Hearts! X Y/N! Last descendant of spade kingdom? Where the reader is an undercover last royal lineage of the spade kingdom and it’s planning a revenge towards the king of hearts… but somehow it’s turning the otherwise as they fall in love with Wally.

@neonross On Tumblr

I apologize if I didn't do Wally's personality well. But I tried my best I hope you like it.

You were the youngest sibling, really just one year younger. But your older sibling was to be the rightful heir of the spade kingdom. You were fine with the fact you didn't have to do any boring royal duties. Everything was good until you had to leave for some position items that are found outside of the kingdom.

The Spade kingdom is the only kingdom that is far from everyone. It's a kingdom that was taught in positions and is very much fit for war, said to always have competitive or insane rulers.

You may say you fit that rope but you didn't care. You know what the three kingdoms did to your family and all you really want is some revenge. Took you awhile but you are ready to put your plan in motion.

When you were younger you had heard your parents mention one of the late Queen Ambrosia friends, the sorceress Poppy and how yet she is too trusting for her own good. So you decide to start with Poppy, you have seen her walk around the market but as you try to walk up to her you see a child hungrily looking at the red apples. So you gave him an apple only for the owner to hold on to your wrist where you told the child to run. The owner kept you there as you both made a scene. That was until Poppy came forward and stopped the commotion by telling the owner that she will take off the issue. You had walked with Poppy where she thanked you for your kindness to the young child, "Well we should never let our future generation to be hungry as for what they will do for us" "What a kind one you are. I haven't seen you around here before...Where do you come from?" "Ah sorry I'm Y/n-no last name from some farming land more south in the hearts kingdom" "That explains why you would want all your family's apples to go to everyone I expect".

You were taken back to Poppy's place where she had offered you tea which you expected. You say there explaining how you want to live a better life not wanting to be stuck in the farm lands forever. Poppy felt very bad and after thinking it over she spoke up, "Well I guess our majesty King Wally had been needing someone new to take care of the rose bushes and the apple trees. Are you up for the offer?" "Yes that would be my great break", you said not helping but smile as Poppy laughed at your antics.

The next few days you started to maintain the garden as you thought how to get close and kill the king. As you were lost in thought while picking apples you heard a charming voice which made you look down to see the king. "I heard you are my new gardener, would you mind if you would give me an apple" "Oh well here you go your majesty", you said coming down to give the king his apple. "Oh please call my Wally" "Well my name is Y/n", you said holding out your hand which Wally took. From that day forward the king will visit you. He would even help you with the apples and roses. Would even listen to your suggestion about the garden, "Cause if we have blue flowers the red ones will pop more. Same goes for the green and yellow apples the red ones will pop" "I see". Would even bring along the queen of clubs Julie and the king of diamonds Frank. You loved the fact all the four kingdoms are all in one place but they don't know that.

You started to hate yourself because why are the royals still alive. You would break everything in your room as your guilt started to hit. So one night you thought to just get it over with but you heard Wally yelling so you wanted to check out now. But when you got there you saw an assassin and Wally pushing him off. The assassin looked at you and not wanting someone else to kill Wally you thought this would be a good way to get your frustrations out.

Wally watched you get rid of his assassin. His eyes were stuck on you as you finished with the assassin and came up to him. You rubbed his cheek asking him if he is alright. Wally said he was and he was amazed by your strength on how you can be deadly but so sweet. When he is with you he feels more safe. He trusted you more and from that night all those feelings became love.

You enjoyed the fact that Wally was getting close with you. If you kill the king of hearts it would send a message to every other Kingdom. The perfect time to kill him was the heart kingdom banquet that was coming up. A banquet where all the royals and their courts come together and just hang out. Before the banquet you had used some undetected poison in the king's drink. But once you were done Wally himself came up to you. "Are you going to the banquet?" "Oh well I'm not really part of your court" "But you are my close friend" "Friend?" "Definitely. I love your skills, your intelligence, I'm happy to have met you". The conversation was short but you didn't pound on it too much.

At the banquet you stood as everyone else sat and talked. You had never been more disgusted in your laugh, just watching them laugh and having a good time just made your blood boil. That was until Wally made a speech about his late mother. The words he spoke of her felt genuine and even Poppy had started to tear up. Hearing his speech made you think of your family and why you are doing this all in the first place but in a small moment you had a change of heart. You knew which drink had poison, it may be undetected but how can you be a good poison maker without knowing your poison.

After the toast you thought about what could happen. If they did kill your family why be like them when you can be the bigger person. So many thoughts ran through your head as you swallowed the drink. Your knees began to become weak as your life flashed before your eyes. The last thing you heard was Poppy asking you if you are okay.

You woke up as you sat up looking around the room. You felt stupid that the poison wouldn't have worked next time you would use something else. But you stopped when someone came into your room. "Oh my goodness you are alright I was growing more worried", you looked down as you didn't want to see the king's face. As he walked up to you but there he had some roses. "You did my request?" "Well yes they do make the red ones shine". You look at the colorful roses, "Why save me when I'm just a gardener" " Because why would I let someone like you die. I know you are here for a reason as from what Poppy told me. You big break just started why would you let it go to waste. Also you had saved my life the second time around so I might need you there for the third?", Wally kept talking as you just sat there and listened.

You were stuck in bed due to the poison messing up your legs. Many have visited you but the one who surprisingly visited the most was no other than the king. He would come and tell you about his day, to bring you food, tell you all sorts of stories. You had still wanted to hate Wally but it was getting harder to do so. Maybe instead of killing Wally first you find out why he along with the other kingdoms kill your family. But while you were stuck in bed you felt yourself becoming sick again, love sick. You didn't think killing a king would be this hard, he is the king of hearts after all but you will find a way you promised yourself that.

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0oolookitsme · 1 year

Text

Falling in Love

Type- One-Shoty Blurb

Verse- Singer!Harry x Ceo!Y/n

Word Count- 1.3k

Warnings- Just sweet, sweet fluff and a very light description of the anxiety that comes with falling in love.

A/N- This one, y'all, is a special one.

This fic celebrates more than one occasion. I published my first ever fic on this site on July 20, 2021. And this is also a goodbye to The Love On Tour which ends today, July 22. I chose (Singer!Harry x Ceo!Y/n) for this, because it is the first universe I ever created, and Harry is a singer in this au, so that kind of fit as well. Also, you people never failed to show your favouritism when it came to any fic I posted in this 'verse -- I love you, and thank you so much for that. I'll be honest, this isn't the original the fic I wanted to post today, but I had to because somehow, I wasn't able to finish it in time. Maybe by the next weekend I'll have it finished, don't mark my words on that though.

So, I really hope you enjoy this fic, which depicts a scene from (Singer!Harry x Ceo!Y/n)'s early stages of relationship, when they'd just started falling in love.

I love you and thank you, a LOT ;) -A.

A little out of breadth Y/n climbed in her car, immediately turning on the AC on full. It was a melting hot day in New York, and she couldn't be more frustrated.

Sitting in the car, she switched on her mobile data for her playlist to start singing. But just as she hit play, a text from Harry popped up on her screen, a smile stretching out on her mouth just in time. She scrolled down her notification bar to see what it was, and it made her sad, the fact that she couldn't smile any wider.

Obviously, he was trying to make her insides churn -- why else would he ask her: 'would you like some croissant, mon chouchou?' Her nose scrunched up as she let her head hit the headrest of the seat, trying to swallow down her screech of giddiness.

With fists clenched tight because there was no other way she could express her ecstasy right now, she allowed herself to open her hand and loosen-up her jaw. 'I'd very much love some! Where are you right now?' She texted back, hoping she could pick him up.

Driving out and straight onto the main lane, she stopped about mid-way through, the street packed with cars and bikes.

Y/n looked up once again, to make sure the traffic light really was red, and right as she was about to look back down, they turned green -- and this is the first time she's been mad about that. Tossing her phone on the passenger seat as she turned her car on the left, she hoped that Harry would reply before she reached the U-Cut.

And while her full attention was on the road, she couldn't help but look at her phone screen from the corner of her eyes. Should she just call him? She slowed down her speed, waiting and waiting and immediately stopping on the side of the lane when he finally texted back: 'Cornelia Street, why?'

Her whole face scrunched up in confusion, as she quickly typed: 'what the hell?' She hit send too quickly, but still kept on typing. 'it's like an hour away! how are you gonna make it? the metro-station will shut down soon!' She texted him again, starting her car again to start driving.

The quicker she reached him, the better. She just hoped that she wouldn't have to stop at a red light again.

'I dunno... maybe get an Uber?' Her screen lit up with his text. 'Anyways, which one do you want?' He texted again, this time attaching 2 photos.

Y/n lightly shook her head, not able to believe that she's going to be driving for an hour to pick up this weird man she seems to have developed a huge crush on, when all she wanted to do leaving the office was to pass out on the lovely forest green sofa in her living room. And she only gets more confused when she sees her phone light up from the corner of her eyes again.

'Pick up whichever one you're eating, H' she sent him a voice message, not careless enough to text him that while driving at this speed. But just as she turns on the next road, a groan rumbles from the back of her throat when she sees another traffic-jam. It sure isn't as hideous as the previous one, but it's making her late, nevertheless.

Rien Que Toi et Moi started playing on low volume in the car as she picked her phone again, going straight to the text Harry had sent her.

'okay, you're clearly too busy to type 'gruyere croissant'. So, I will buy it for you even though I'm taking a chocolate one' was the first text, and the next one made her grin quite wide in slight embarassment. It said, 'Cause someone needs to be sweet to keep your salty ass sane'

'Don't get all grumpy with me now, we both know you can't live for even a day without salt' she texted back, chuckling already. 'And don't book any taxi, I'm on my way to pick you up!' She wrote again, now suddenly embarrassed.

This time, she threw her phone on the seat for once and for all, determined to stop only when she's on Cornelia Steet.

And as she drove, her mind was still on Harry. It hadn't escaped her, the fact that he remembered her favourite croissant, and knew she wanted that one only, even when she didn't say so. She knows that he too knows he'll be eating half of hers and then offer her a half of his'. Staying with her, he'd grown to like a lot of her favourites.

But what he's surely got to notice, is that a lot of his favourites, are now Y/n's as well. It's more than often that she's caught doing things that he loves to do, learning about things that he always talks to her about. And she remembered something flashing in his eyes when she told him that she's only doing it so that she can chat a little more about it with him.

Driving with her window rolled down, Y/n slowly and slowly felt herself calming down and little by little, falling for Harry -- with his little quirks and habits that make him who he is. But still there was a slight tightness in the midst of her chest that frightened her, a little alarm that always went off blaring every time her eyes landed on Harry, screaming at her to turn around, that she still had time, and her heartrate would go impossibly high.

But she knew, she had nothing to lose. The most that could happen was that he'd break her heart and people will stop murmuring about how she's got some colour in her face and a small smile on her mouth every time she walked by. And the gossips about her being cold-hearted would return. She didn't have anything more to lose and for some weird reason whenever she saw Harry, something inside her, maybe her heart, pointed at him and whispered without a pause in her ears, 'that's the one, that's the one.'

It's when she passes the board-sign with 'Cornelia Street' written across it that she parks on the side of the lane again. Picking up her phone, she texts Harry 'I'm in front of the 'Books and Lattes' cafe. Where are you?'

And it was like Harry was already on his phone because he responded right away. 'Should be visible on the first zebra-crossing you stop at!' his text said, and all of a sudden, a hint of giddiness bubbled inside her at the realization that finally she'll be seeing him.

And Y/n did see him, just as she slowed down as she neared the crossing. She looked to her left fist, out the passenger side window and in a split second her eyes found the pair of forest-green eyes that she longed to take a walk in all the damn time.

His Cheshire-cat grin so charming, it felt as though he had aimed it straight at heart, as he walked towards her. And just to poke fun at him, she didn't unlock the door -- rolling down the window instead. He waved at her with a dimpled smile, just a few steps away and as he went to open the door, "hey there, beau" she teased.

Harry rested his elbows on the sill, looking at her with a mockingly intense gaze. "Lose your croissant or unlock the door," he said quickly and laughed at her groan as he went to sit beside her. "I'm hurt that you'd choose a croissant over me!"

"I'm surprised that you're surprised," Y/n said, while backing up just a bit to turn into the other lane.

She heard him sigh and then saw him dramatically rub his forehead. "Disappointed, but not surprised," he said.

"Oh, c'mon darling-"

"I'm not your darling when 'm pissed at you!"

Letting out an amused laugh, she intertwined their hands in the heat of the moment, and that same old alarm went off blaring. "Now look who's being salty," she stated as a matter of fact, shaking her head when Harry muttered, 'you're never going to let that go, are you?'

And somewhere on the inside, a little voice in her head mumbled, "uh oh, I'm falling in love."

Tagging: @reveriehs <3 MASTERLIST :)

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biasbuck · 2 months

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BiAsBuck’s ficrec Fridays

At this point 'Friday' is just a state of mind, okay? Back again with another round of the fic I've been reading this week, thank you lovely authors for keeping me distracted from a horrid summer cold. You can find previous rec lists here.

A nice mixed bag of perspectives this week, with Henren (YAY!!!!), some Buddie, some Bucktommy, and a couple of excellent Helena fics!

20 July 2024

being with you (is the highlight) by @buick118 is ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 henren. In which Hen knows Karen is hot like PaCO2. Some absolutely sizzling and accurate rocket scientist Karen appreciation, with Hen watching her wife absolutely thriving in her element at a work function and just has to do something about it. Hot as hell, I neeeeed more of this henren in my life.

You Don't Know a Thing (About Me) by @insertlovelyperson this is such a well written Hen POV fic, with henren and the 118 dealing with the Ortiz and Mara fallout. Diverging a little from canon, it still fits so well into the headspace, and as Hen battles with herself on how to move forward when all she wants to do is fight back. Very cathartic, I really really loved Hen's voice here, it captures all of the ways she treads the line weaving shades of grey through the fierceness of her love.

just for you by @smallandalmosthonest is 'trampstamp tattoo Buck' bucktommy smut - when Tommy is away for longer than he expected on emergency deployment, he comes back to find Buck has a surprise for him. With a dollop of Daddy kink and possessiveness, it's hot and silly and sexy and fun. And look if Oliver can go on a roadtrip and come back to work with like twenty billion new tattoos, Buck can get a little ill-advised lower back tattoo as a treat!

this ecstasy, this forgetfulness of living by @glorious-spoon I've been loving all of glorious-spoon's five alarm fire fics, and this one for kink discovery prompt really hit. In which Buck is packing up his apartment to move in with Eddie, and stumbles upon a mystery dog collar and leash an ex must have left behind...Buck being Buck, of course he's gonna try it on just to see if it fits. Just as Eddie walks in. I really loved the headspace that they both stumble upon here, it's kinky yes, but also so sweet, loving and trusting and such a natural exploration of something neither of them expected to click.

i'm holding on (barely) by @cranberrymoons because I'm still living rent free in all the possibility surrounding the Chris in Texas storyline. This is a Helena POV fic, in which after Eddie has brought Chris home again, she decides to follow in order to understand her son better. It's a bumpy ride, and I really appreciated all the nuanced complexities given to her as a character here. Too often the parents are villianised and dehumanised, but here all of Helena's mistakes and missteps and shortcomings are examined with honesty and integrity, and in doing so she self reflects in a way to find a path forward with Eddie in which forgiveness and mutual understanding is an ongoing dialogue.

stained and broken glass by @sharpbutsoft another gorgeous Eddie and Helena fic! This one is written with such quiet restraint, it captures the reserved and stoic side of Eddie so well, and when paired with the presence of Helena, it inevitably explodes into a sharp and fiery overdue fight that fizzles almost as soon as it's started. But through the fire there's new ground to find, and maybe they both can come through it together.

my man says he loves me (never says he loves me not) by @colonoscopys in which Eddie and Buck are Croakett and Tubbalubb, anonymously competing in a 'more hopelessly in love with my best friend than you' competition. Both feeling some kind of way, they sign up to a website and find a friend they can confide in...but of course, they're talking to each other. Crack treated seriously, this is fun and romantic and these two are really just stupid for each other.

See you next week!

#biasbuck recs #biasbuck watches 911 #911 fic #911 ficrec #buddie fic #bucktommy fic #henren fic

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frozenlight-gvf · 1 year

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Strawberry Wine: Part 1

pairing: barn au: danny x fem!reader (enemies to lovers)

summary: you'd spent the whole summer tormenting the new barn hand, but things were finally reaching that inevitable tipping point where you two would either fall in love or fall apart... or both

word count: 4.5k

warnings (for this part): language, dirty talk, ~digital penetration~, something to do with a hayloft...?, praise/degradation all that good stuff (18+ MINORS DNI)

a/n: this one is dedicated to my youth spent riding horses, everyone who likes imagining danny in levi’s and a cowboy hat, and “strawberry wine” by deana carter

***

Even without the heaviness of the southern July sun and that infamous humidity, you would still be hot under the collar.

You seemed to always wear a scowl. Perhaps it was because the muscles of your face were permanently screwed-up in a sun-blinded squint, or it was because Daniel never let you win a single argument.

Susannah– your mother and owner of the Nightingale Ranch– had hired the man to help around the barn– feeding the horses and cleaning the stalls and that– but she also had a not-so-secret hope that maybe her only daughter would take a bit of a liking to him. You were always a lone wolf, howling at the moon and snarling at any human– specifically the male type– who got too close.

Daniel Wagner was only the latest victim of your bared teeth; you’d ruthlessly torn out the throats of three other barn hands in recent years, mercilessly tormenting them until they quit the job, citing “workplace tension” to Susannah as the reason for their seething resignations. But despite your constant raised hackles towards him, Daniel stayed. And he stayed with a shit-eating smile.

***

“Wagner, how many times do I have to tell you not to feed Chief until after the 4 o’clock lessons?” you scolded with a bite in your voice.

He flashed a teasing grin at you, carrying a saddle towards the tackroom.

“At least one more time.”

You stomped your boot on the packed-dirt floor of the stable, knuckles planted firmly on the waistband of your jeans. You knew tugging on the horse’s lead rope would be completely in vain, so rather, you focused your frustration at the man walking brazenly down the line of stalls.

“You know I need him for one of my riders, and he won’t do shit when he’s got food in front of him.”

“Come on, that spoiled little priss can ride any other horse here. She doesn’t always need to ride Chief. Put her on Tucker today.”

Scoffing, you marched after him, following him towards the dusty tackroom, the saddles and pads lining the walls making the entire room smell like leather and sweat.

“And who are you to tell me which horses to put my riders on? I’ve known these horses my whole life, and I’ve been teaching lessons for three years.”

Daniel grunted a bit as he lifted the saddle up to one of the higher slots, reaching his arms above his head then turning to you, catching your eyes flickering to the glimpse of torso you got as his shirt lifted.

“My bad. I forgot that you're just so far above me, heiress."

You bristled at his nickname. “I hate it when you call me that.”

“Exactly why I do it– heiress.”

Since your mother owned the barn and all the horses, you were the technical “heiress” of all of it, just as your mother was. But Daniel always made it sound like you were some rich princess, rather than the granddaughter of an honest man who built that barn and raised all the horses.

You grabbed a saddle from the rack, begrudgingly heading towards Tucker’s stall and tacking up the flea-bitten grey stallion. You would never admit that he was a perfect fit for your rider in the absence of Chief.

After the lesson, the little girl dismounted Tucker, going on and on how she wanted to ride him every week rather than Chief. There was no way in hell you could ever let Daniel know.

You led Tucker back down from the lesson ring to the stable, both of you covered in sweat and desperate for a cool breeze. Once his tack was off, you patted his soaked side, feeling his huge lungs expanding and contracting rapidly, panting.

“I know, me too. Hotter than hell out there today. Let’s get you a bath, huh?”

The sun was setting over the barn, so you decided to take Tucker out back to the pasture to cool him off, rather than using the hose right outside the barn. The grass was soft and green, and the cicadas were starting to sing. You looked to your left to see Daniel hunched over the broken fence, placing a fresh plank of wood and nailing it in. The incessant noise of the hammer was spoiling what would have been an otherwise peaceful moment.

“Do you mind?” you called over to him. Daniel looked up in the direction of your voice, and a smile dissolved the concentration etched in his face. You could have sworn for a moment that he was happy to see you.

“Susannah said I have to get this done before I leave today. So… no. I don’t mind.”

You rolled your eyes and led Tucker towards the water pump, feeling the heavy softness of his hoofbeats resounding in the ground under your feet. Trying to focus on the sunset and the rousing song of cicadas rather than the pounding of Daniel’s hammer, you cranked the handle of the pump a few times, waiting for water to come out of the hose you had attached to it.

After a few more cranks and crouching down on your knees to see what the matter was, you were about to give up on the old thing and go back to the barn to give Tucker his bath, until water exploded from the pump, sending the hose flying off and soaking you to the skin. You shouted a curse and tumbled backward in surprise, landing in the grass.

Daniel’s loud cackles from across the pasture were not welcome.

And of course you had decided to wear a white t-shirt today.

“Did Tuck get any of that water or no?”

You growled in frustration, reattaching the hose to the pump and finally getting some water to come out. You grabbed the hose tightly, wishing it was Daniel’s neck.

“Do you wanna come do this? Considering bathing the horses is part of your job description?” You shouted as you shook the hose, coaxing the low-pressured water out from it. Your wet shirt was sticking to your skin, making the nagging heat of the day even more insufferable.

Daniel took the nail he was holding between his teeth and dropped it in his toolbox, closing it up. He gave the fence one last look-over before sauntering over to you. You tried to hide behind the horse to cover yourself; now that your shirt was practically see-through, your black bra was prominently making its presence known.

“Go home, Daniel.”

He didn’t stop walking towards you.

“But I thought you wanted me to bathe Tuck?”

He was close enough now that you had to physically angle your body away from his eager eyes. You watched as his gaze shifted from your chest to your face and back again.

“Black, huh? I always pictured you in pink,” he said with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

Your eyes shot open wide at his baiting tease, and words came flying out of your mouth.

“You shouldn’t be picturing me in anything!”

Daniel cocked his head, his smirk widening and a laugh bubbled from his chest.

“Alright then. I won’t.”

Your jaw dropped, then you clenched it up tight, hating the fact that a blush was rising to your cheeks. Maybe you could blame it on your anger. Or the summer heat. But the idea of Daniel imagining you naked made your whole face burn pink.

“I said, go home.” Your voice was quieter now, but there was still an unmistakable venom to it.

Daniel chuckled and shook his head, putting his toolbox down in the grass and extending his hand for the hose.

“Come on, give it to me. I’m the barn boy, so I’m the one who has to keep the heiress’ perfect hands from getting all dirty.”

You kept a tight clutch on the hose, skimming the water from Tucker’s coat with your other hand. At this point, you thought your teeth might crack. Daniel moved closer to you, keeping his hand outstretched.

“Y/N, come on, let me have it.”

“No. I know what you’re trying to do. If you get the hose, you’re gonna bathe everything but the horse. And I’d rather not get any more wet than I already am.”

You heard Daniel snicker a bit, and you instantly regretted your choice of words.

“You’re fucking impossible, Wagner,” you grumbled.

He grinned, moving even closer. Leaning down, his voice was low and taunting, almost whispering in your ear.

“But you like me anyways.”

Immediately, you turned the hose on him, relishing in the brief look of surprise in his eyes as he instinctively raised his hands to cover his face. You didn’t let up, bending down to crank the handle of the pump to produce even more water for your attack.

A devilish grin crossed your face as you watched Daniel try and back away, but it was too late. His shirt was already drenched and clinging to the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen underneath.

Before you knew it, Daniel was upon you and wrestling the hose from your grip. You yelped as you felt the water soak your hair and pour into your eyes.

“Daniel!” you shouted, trying to push him away, but one of his strong arms was wrapped tightly around you, keeping you held fast as he laughed and let the remainder of the water drain from the hose.

Sputtering, you wrenched yourself out of Daniel’s arms, stumbling slightly, trying to keep a grip on Tucker’s rope.

“Fucking dick!” you shouted, sweat and sunscreen stinging your eyes.

Daniel just shrugged and smiled, wiping his wet curls from his face.

“Oh, so you can dish it out, but you can't take it?”

“I swear to God, Wagner, I’m going to get you fired.”

He dropped the dripping hose into the grass, taking the horse’s rope from your hand as you kept trying to get your eyes to open without them burning.

“Susannah loves me. There’s no way in hell she’d fire me.”

“Then quit,” you growled, starting to make your way through the pasture, back towards the barn.

Daniel chuckled, following close behind you and leading the horse with him.

“Aw, but if I quit, that means you’d never get to tease me again. And that’s your favorite thing in the world.”

“My favorite thing in the world is watching you leave the barn at the end of every day so I don’t have to be around you anymore,” you shot back.

“You watch me leave every day? Someone’s obsessed,” he teased in a sing-song voice.

You clenched your fists and continued your trudge back to the barn, not turning around or responding to Daniel. When you got back, the sun had fully set, and your mother was standing at the back entrance of the barn, watching as two soaking wet figures and a horse approached. You heard her mutter something like “I don’t even want to ask” before turning and heading up towards your house, which was a short walk from the barn.

The lights inside the barn were warm and cozy, the heat of the day still lingering. Your body was still simmering with anger as you squeezed out your hair. You turned to take Tucker’s rope from Daniel, but he didn't let go.

“I’ll put him away.” His voice was surprisingly soft, and he was wearing a warm smile as opposed to his usual roguish grin. You stared up at him, in a bit of shock– and hating how the sight of him looking down at you made your heart flutter.

“No–”

“Do you not trust me to put the horse back?”

“I don’t trust you being in the barn alone.”

“What do you think I’m gonna do? Set all the horses loose?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Come on, heiress, I love these horses just as much as you do.”

You scoffed and opened your mouth to speak, but Daniel cut you off with a wave of his hand as he started walking Tucker back towards his stall.

“I know, I know, ‘I grew up with these horses,’ ‘I know them better than anyone,’ blah, blah, blah. Ok, I love these horses just a little bit less than you. Better? Are you gonna correct me on that, too?”

You cocked your head proudly, biting back a smirk.

“No.”

“Alright then.” Danny removed Tucker’s lead rope and hung it up on the nail outside his stall, turning the lock on the gate. He turned to you, giving you a dramatic bow. “Am I dismissed, heiress?”

Without a word, you turned to leave, but you felt a firm grip on your wrist. Danny pulled you back to face him, suddenly very close to you. You could feel the heat of his muscular body radiating off of him, making you flush even hotter. Your breath hitched in your throat. Once again, his eyes flickered down from your face, catching on the areas of your body that your soaked white shirt revealed. His voice was low and smooth, sending goosebumps up and down your skin.

“Am I dismissed?”

You looked back and forth between his dark eyes, swallowing hard. Daniel smirked at your apparent speechlessness.

“Well, heiress?”

“Don’t call me that,” you said, but your voice had lost all its usual force. Daniel’s closeness and the heat of his eyes was like anti-venom, sucking out all your bite and resentment. His hand travelled slowly from your wrist up your arm.

You backed away, shuddering slightly.

“Go home," you said, your voice sharp and trembling.

Daniel stood back up to his full height, rolling his shoulders back.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

~~~

You didn’t speak to Daniel at all the next day, practically shivering with unresolved tension. He knew something was up when you didn’t say a single word to him when he once again fed Chief before 4 o’clock; instead, you headed straight to Tucker’s stall without so much as a glance in his direction. He watched you with an eager smile quickly fading from his face as he realized you weren’t going to engage.

After you finished your last lesson of the day, you decided to retrieve your favorite horse– a beautiful dapple grey mare called Guinevere– from her stall for a sunset trail ride. The trail wound through the thick woods that stood behind the barn, just beyond the pasture. There was a lusciously cool breeze blowing, like the Earth was sighing at the end of a long day. You sighed with it, unable to shake Daniel from your mind.

You plodded along the trail on the back of Guinevere, enjoying the feeling of her slow, steady movements beneath you, unimpeded by a saddle. Riding bareback was your favorite way to unwind; you let your mind drift away, lulled by the warmth of your horse and her dependable gait.

A flash of a wispy black shadow flickered through the trees. The burning gold of the setting sun almost made it look like smoke from a fire before you realized it was the tail of Ares.

“Hello?” you called through the woods, wondering if someone else was there, or if Ares had broken the lock on his stall with a kick of his powerful hooves and escaped. It wouldn't be the first time.

“Y/N?”

Of course. Ares was Daniel’s favorite horse in the barn.

Daniel came trotting around a bend in the trail, saddled up on the tall black horse. He held the leather reins in one hand, forgoing a helmet for his weathered Stetson. You internally scolded him for his blatant disregard for personal safety, but you couldn’t help but think that he almost looked like something off the cover of a Western romance novel, with the golden light shining through his dark curls and illuminating his tanned skin. And him taking a liking to the most notoriously difficult horse in the barn made it even more cliche.

“You shouldn’t be out on the trails. Don’t you have work to do?”

Daniel shrugged and urged his horse closer to you. “I finished everything before 3 o’clock. You know, I do my job a lot better when you’re not constantly torturing me all day.” Something in his voice almost sounded regretful-- like he missed your taunts. But he hid it well behind that damned charming smile.

You didn’t respond. Instead, you nudged Guinevere’s mane to turn her around, starting to head back towards the barn. The trail ride wasn’t worth it if it meant having to be out there with Daniel.

He noticed your wordless retreat. Surrendering wasn't like you. “Relax, heiress, I’m done out here. I was just taking Ares back and then heading home for the day.”

You turned Guinevere back around, facing Daniel once more. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, giving you a look of concern.

“What’s wrong?”

You shrugged, urging Guinevere forwards, passing Ares. “Nothing,” you muttered. You were glad to leave Daniel behind you, so you didn’t have to try and hide the utter longing in your eyes anymore. Ever since last night, you yearned to be close to him again. But the very fabric of your being wouldn’t allow that.

“I’ll stay at the barn until you get back. In case you need anything.”

“I’m fine,” you called back to him, already disappearing through the trees. "See you tomorrow.”

There was nothing but silence behind you, until you finally heard Ares’ heavy hoofsteps grinding on the gravel at the trailhead. You let out a deep breath.

You tried to enjoy your ride, but not even Guinevere’s gentle presence could calm you. She could sense that you were uneasy, her head on a constant pendulum swing as she looked around the darkening woods for any sign of danger. But she didn’t know that the danger was only in your mind– the irrevocable, perilous danger of falling for a boy.

Guinevere carried you back up to the barn, and you were surprised to see that the lights were still on. Usually when you came back from your late trail rides, the barn was dark and empty, the only sounds being the sorts and sighs of the horses. You assumed your mother was sitting in the small makeshift "office," perhaps finishing up some work.

You got Guinevere all cozy in her stall, giving her some loving pets and a kiss on her nose. But before you could close the gate, you noticed that her bucket of food was emptier than usual. You decided to head towards the back of the barn and climbed the ladder to the hayloft, where you kept a stash of treats specifically for Guinevere. A burlap bag of apples was your goal, but your mind instantly shifted when you saw a figure sat up against the hay bales.

Your heart shot to your throat and you almost fell back off the ladder in fright, but the figure reached out from the shadows to grab your wrist.

“Daniel! What the hell are you still doing here?” you whisper-shouted as he pulled you from the ladder up into the dark loft. The barn lights didn’t exactly reach that area, but you could still see his flickering smile, like a candle in the night.

“I told you I’d wait here if you needed anything,” he said, settling himself back against a hay bale, one leg kicked out.

You shook your head, sighing, trying to get your breathing to slow. “In the hayloft?”

“Where better?” He said, outstretching his arms, looking around at the space, then locking his eyes on you.

The entire reason for your being up there was forgotten. “Seriously, why are you up here?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I like it up here. It’s quiet. And I get a good view of the stable. Figured I’d get some payback and watch you go home this time rather than the other way around.” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes, that familiar frustration you felt towards him starting to simmer. “I told you to leave an hour ago, Wagner. You know I don't trust you to be in the barn alone.”

“Why are you always trying to get rid of me?” he asked with a stupid grin.

“Because I hate you.” You spoke bluntly, with the intention to hurt him. Anger was curling off your skin like smoke. But your words bounced off of him– he saw right through you and locked onto the desire bubbling just under your surface.

“You don’t hate me. You hate the way I make you feel.”

“Oh, yeah? And how do you think you make me feel? Other than angry?” Your voice was louder than it probably should have been.

“Turned on,” he answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’re full of shit, Wagner.” You snarled, ready to rip him to shreds.

“But I’m right, aren’t I?” he said, standing up. “I turn you on. I get you all bothered, and if my assumptions are correct, I’m the first person that’s ever made you feel this way.”

You chuckled bitterly: an attempt to bring him down a peg, as well as to mask the sensations stirring within you. “You’re definitely not the first.”

Daniel cocked his head, and you instantly realized your mistake. You just admitted that he turns you on. You exclaimed, stomping your feet and clenching your fists. You were seconds away from digging your claws into him.

“That’s not what I meant–!”

You bumped into a stack of hay bales behind you. You hadn’t even realized you were backing up. Daniel was stalking towards you, his eyes intense.

“Oh, don’t worry, I know exactly what you meant.”

Before you could say another word, Daniel moved as close to you as he was last night, his breath fanning across your face. One of his hands grabbed the side of your face, holding you fast. You were about to protest, and Daniel could sense it, so he leaned his forehead against yours and stared into your eyes.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop.”

His lips were almost touching yours, his eyes fluttering as his breath grew heavier. His closeness almost felt like static electricity; sparks flew between your lips as they threatened to collide. Panting already, you swallowed hard as he pressed his sturdy body into yours.

“Tell me you don’t want this, heiress.”

The tension was so thick that you could see it– you could see it in the twitch in the corner of Daniel’s mouth, in the imperceptible flare of his nostrils, in the lift of his eyebrows. Months of teasing and taunting were coming to their inevitable head right before your eyes, right in front of your face.

You didn’t tell him to stop.

He seized your face with both hands and pulled it to his, your lips slamming together in a kiss like a firecracker, setting the both of you aflame.

Your head felt hollow, weightless– but the feeling of Daniel was quickly filling it like water. He pressed you against the hay bale as the kiss deepened, one of his hands skimming down your body and squeezing your waist. You found yourself clutching at his shirt, almost like you wanted your bodies to exist in the exact same spot, with no space between them. You wanted to live inside him.

Daniel let out a grunt, meeting your whiny sigh as his tongue pushed into your mouth, finally tasting you for the first time. His body bucked into you slightly, forcing you harder against the hay bales.

You gasped into his mouth as you felt his thigh shove itself between your legs, applying delicious pressure on your most sensitive spot. He smirked against your lips as he started moving his leg back and forth.

“Oh, that feels good, doesn’t it?” he spoke in a soft, provocative tone, taking your little moans as a sign to keep going. “See what I can make you feel when you stop fighting me?”

You practically growled into his mouth, curling your fists around the fabric of his shirt, pulling him tighter against you. He let out a little grunt of surprise, falling into you.

“Feisty little thing, aren’t you?” He smirked down at you.

Your voice was nothing but a breathy whisper. You were just staring at his lips. “Shut up and kiss me, Wagner.”

He kept kissing you deeper and deeper, unable to get enough of you. His fingertips toyed with the hem of your shirt for a moment or two before slipping underneath the fabric to feel the soft warmth of your bare skin at your stomach. His hand was soon splayed out, his palm rubbing your waist and traveling up towards your ribs, holding you tight.

You were pinned against the hay bales by Daniel’s weight. His fingers started working at the button and zipper of your jeans, not wasting a moment before stroking your clit over your panties with the pads of his fingers. You sucked in a sharp breath, your head falling back.

Daniel chuckled darkly, and you knew he was feeling how wet your panties were. “What was that about me not turning you on? You’re soaked just from bickering with me, sweetheart.”

Before you could shoot back, he pulled your panties to the side and made direct contact with your swollen clit, making you choke on any words you were about to fling at him. Daniel raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth in a mock look of surprise, mimicking your pitiful moment of submission.

You started grinding your hips against his fingers, instantly addicted to the friction his arousal-slicked, rough fingertips provided you. Daniel smirked, enjoying watching you already coming apart for him.

“Yeah? My fingers feel good against your cunt, don’t they?”

All you could do was nod, squeezing your eyes shut as he slipped his fingers inside you, forcing a moan from your throat. The movements of your hips didn’t stop as you fucked yourself on his thick fingers. He matched your rhythm, hissing at the way you clenched around his fingers.

“Fuck, sweetheart… so fucking tight…”

A coil was twisting itself mad in the pit of your stomach, begging to be snapped. Daniel could tell how close you were by the crease between your eyebrows and your desperate gasps for air.

“Aw, is the heiress gonna cum on my fingers? Make the barn boy’s hands all dirty like they should be?”

You nodded frantically, mere moments from your peak.

“I bet you don’t even touch this filthy pussy with your fingers… would be such a shame to get your hands dirty, right?”

“Daniel–” you squeaked, warning him of your impending release.

“Maybe I should take care of this little cunt of yours as part of my daily chores.”

You whined as your head fell forward against his shoulder, your movements becoming frenzied as you edged closer and closer to that blissful explosion of pleasure.

“I know. Give it to me, sweetheart. Make a mess of me.”

A moan clawed up from your chest as you began to convulse, your vision going white for a moment as your entire body erupted with wanton delight. Daniel held you upright with an arm tight around your waist as your legs gave out. You clung onto him as the waves crashed against you. You could vaguely hear Daniel whispering words of praise in your ear.

“That’s it– yeah, that’s it, good girl… good girl.”

A few moments passed before you could string a coherent thought together. You were panting, trying hard to swallow past your dry mouth. You could hardly believe what just happened– it was like your brain wasn’t allowing you to process it.

Daniel smiled at your disheveled state, picking bits of straw out of your hair.

“So, I think it’s safe to assume that you don’t actually hate me, right?” Daniel said, breaking the silence and grinning teasingly.

He slid his fingers out of you and buttoned up your jeans. Before you could speak, he was already tipping his hat with a crooked smile and descending the ladder, leaving you swaying and trying to remember your name.

"Goodnight, ma'am."

***

PART TWO

Taglist:

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#greta van fleet #gvf #gvf fanfiction #gvf fic #danny wagner #daniel wagner #danny gvf #gvf smut #greta van smut #greta van fic #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet smut

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