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devandahlcourte-work-in-progress · 2 years

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Section 7. seven chapters, ending with chapter 36

I am reposting these first eighty-two chapters (in 22 sections) plus the prologue and the preface.

These posts will be the updated versions from my DeviantArt account, and since Tumblr may not display all the text correctly (it destroys anything I had in italics or underlined) I would still recommend reading everything there, on DeviantArt. They will also include internal links that navigate between the chapters on DeviantArt and will take the reader off Tumblr if clicked.

This came about because I noticed search engines were finding random sections of my book and displaying them along with some other people’s blog posts.

Okay, so that’s why I installed those internal links in each one… so that if anyone gets to a random section by way of a search engine and would like to read the story from the beginning, they can.

Only then did I realize that it wasn’t getting it’s search results from DeviantArt, but from old Tumblr.

There’s another problem at work here besides unrefined searches…

There is a new species of virus on the internet that likes to eat ancient Tumblr posts and barf them back up infested with adware - spyware - malware etc. The virus goes by names like TumGIR, TumBIG, TumPIK, or Tum(anything else but ‘blr’). The caps were added by me for emphasis so that maybe you can double check in case you’re not looking at an actual Tumblr post right now but one of these so-called “mirror” sites.

If you’re looking at this text through one of the counterfeit Tumblrs that I mentioned, then no link you click (assuming it even copies it with my links intact) will take you out; it will redirect you and show you all of the spam ads it wants to. So read carefully what url is showing on your browser right now.

If it is one of the untrustworthy ones I would suggest closing your browser window and doing whatever else you normally would in order to reset settings.

As far as my science fiction novel entitled “If And Only If,” the safest way to find it is by going to my Instagram:

@michelle.de.vandahlcourte

From there you can click on the link in my bio. It will take you to the beginning of the story on DeviantArt… the safe one! No malware.

P.S. None of this is Tumblr’s fault! It’s the malware/adware/spyware developers who are stealing people’s tumblr posts.

The actual content of this page appears below here👇

Section 7. seven chapters, ending with chapter 36

↩️return to previous section, section 6

↩️↩️…and if you arrived here because of a search engine and you would like to read this story from the beginning, click here.

Prajina and Alex

As expected, Alex had seen her, become curious, and followed up by digging electronically. A bit more carelessly than he was aware of. His trail was being analyzed by an older man who was thought of by her employers, prior to Prajina’s arrival, as essentially the second most intelligent human on earth. He was now third, if you believed in that kind of stuff. Nevertheless, since we can’t have Inigo Montoya following the Man in Black… club him over the head with a rapier pommel? Ha ha, no. Prajina just simply erased the appropriate files at NSA, DIA, CIA, etc. She could do this remotely from her office in Trieste in fact, using technology so advanced that it made Alex‘s 22nd century neutrino beam shenanigans look like “stone knives and bear skins” as Spock once said.

Prajina had also erased memories, using the old open-up-a-microscopic-wormhole-inside-someone’s-brain-and-perform-surgery-from-somewhere-else-in-the-universe trick that her alien mentors had taught her. The memories of NSA employees in key positions had been removed and false memories substituted for them that would be indistinguishable from reality in their minds.

It was legerdemain at first but had already become dull for her at this point; cleaning up after Alex‘s trail required a lot of this special attention and she’d become used to it already. More importantly, she now needed to have an actual conversation with him. But it had to be of his own free will. If he truly wanted to live in this time, the powers that be would not stop him. Even if it meant he was creating new parallel universes, being awarded that prestigious Ploughman’s prize for his work, introducing advances in mathematics – indeed new branches of mathematics – that shouldn’t have happened yet, and so on.

It came in the form of a FaceTime call. She made the trail easy to find, but not easy enough to be obvious to the information experts of the time. Tentatively, a gentleman scholar on the screen said “Praji?” The nickname she went by in high school and middle school... Because kids quickly learned that by deliberately mispronouncing her name, they could rhyme it with a most prominent part of the female anatomy. Kids had not changed significantly by their century. “Yes Alex, I am pleased to see that you figured out what was going on.”

Alex was very far from having “figured” anything out, apart from the fact that Prajina was here, and how to make contact using the trail of crumbs she’d left for him. He very much wanted to meet her in person, but didn’t know when he’d be able to manage a trip to Trieste. As he attempted to get the words out, and while debating himself about whether or not to mention waking and using the taco to transport himself there, the knock came on his office door. Nobody in their right mind would defy his metaphorical “do not disturb sign,” from students, or other tenured professors, or even administrators up to the chancellor.

Then he noticed the background on Prajina’s phone was no longer resembling any Italian city skyline and looked a lot like the familiar wood paneling and wainscoting in the hallway outside of his office. Of course, he realized that if the same aliens had sent Praji back, she might also be equipped with some kind of “transporter” technology. As he rushed to the door he briefly wondered if she had to use anything as ridiculous as a giant taco to get herself beamed from city to city… Never mind; that would be a discussion for another time.

Their hug lasted longer than he could justify under the friend pretense and he backed off a bit before she felt “him.” All he could think to say was “it’s been so long. I’ve missed you so much.” He tried to choke back the tear, but Praji was already Mona-Lisa-smiling at him and wiping it from below his eye. She revealed that it had only been a few months for her.

He calculated. She arrived in 2017 then. Many hours of conversation later, and after both of them had beamed (without the use of a taco) back to Trieste from Alex‘s office, Alex was feeling self-conscious about their first kiss. Yes, it was wonderful; as sweet as he had dreamed since he was a boy in middle school; his heart danced and the moon came out and sang opera for him. But she was still 19. Physically. He might’ve passed, he thought, for less than 45; maybe late 30s in certain types of lighting. Did it make her feel weird?

Lucy

Nothing whatsoever on the news about missing cops… At all. The lack of corpses, perhaps? She needed to find someone with a police scanner. Buying one at RadioShack would be simple enough. But what if they had videotapes of their transactions? The act itself might be suspicious. There must be an actual person who has one already.

There was.

Castadiva’s “Sleazy Uncle Raul” as she’d jokingly called him in the past. But she finally provided Lucy with some clarification.

Sleezy? Yeah, because he had purportedly molested another family member. But `Diva was never in any danger she reassured them glibly – he preferred males. As `Diva went on, Lucy eventually found out that the family gossip was skewed: he had merely provided refuge for the boy after his family had thrown the dude out at the age of 15 for finding out that he was gay. Gay Uncle Raul thought it was the right thing to do, as opposed to the boy’s own father’s decision to pick up a frying pan with hot oil from the stovetop and throw it at his son and scalding the kid’s forearm during the otherwise passé and predictable “get out of my house” tirade.

Then Raul had had the audacity to report the incident to authorities on the way to the ER with him… resulting in authorities being there to photograph his injuries on arrival and quickly thereafter resulting in child services removing his two younger siblings from the home. Everyone called Raul “vindictive” for this.

So word amongst daddy and other religious-fanatic relatives was that there must be something “sinister” going on under Gay Raul’s roof. The kid was a graduate-school-aged young adult now, had already fathered two male children as a sperm donor for different lesbian-couple friends, was by mutual agreement a part of their lives, and as an appropriate precaution – revenge according to the senile reactionary religious fanatic family grapevine – had made sure his parents never got to meet their only grandsons before they died. Raul and his partner were starting to be able to contribute to each kid’s homeschooling now, since they were a scientist and a mathematician respectively.

It was either set up a visit with Uncle Raul or continue to watch commercials on TV for that one news item that might or might not ever air, whilst suffering through commercials for the next episodes of “Friends, Seinfeld,” and “E.R.” or whatever driveling idiocy was on the other channels.

She was beginning to see what Keith’s criticism was based on. Lucycat already preferred Sid Meier's “Civilization.” She had once played on emperor level and conquered the world by 200 CE. But her score was much higher when she let it go on to the 1600s or so, built wonders and discovered everything up to “future technology number” whatever.

One of the just slightly disappointing things about the game: no explanation of future technologies beyond fusion power. But that was understandable, she guessed.

What level of future technology, she wondered, would a civilization need in order to make a giant taco come to life, read minds, and morph back-and-forth between a rock and a taco? And oh yeah, let’s equip it with the death ray too, just for shits and giggles. Okay, back to the issue: Cool Uncle Raul was the best choice. They would just go visit him as a small group. The three of them: Lucy, Keith, and Castadiva Talamantez.

Castadiva was her real name; her mom had seen Bellini’s Norma back in ‘79 and was in love with the aria – enough to name her newborn baby girl after it a year later. They went to see uncle Raul under the guise of a school project. As if any of them ever took homework that seriously! Castadiva was actually the most levelheaded of the group. Her favorite subject was home ec. Especially the sewing projects, which she rocked – Lucy supposed that when your name is Castadiva, you’re destined to become a fashion designer, or some kind of artist at least!

She knew how to play to her uncle’s idiosyncrasies. Don’t make it a science project, she decided. He’ll see through that and know something’s up. It’s a paper we’re doing for a government class. A group report they’d selected on police accountability. She was the only one who had access to the World Wide Web and the Internet. Keith had pondered with Lucy that they might actually be the same thing; they both made a point to learn more about it later. Apparently there was a big buzz on alt dot something-or-other about whether citizens have the right to listen in on police frequencies, and what if the cops went digital and started encrypting everything they said on the radio. They, of course, we’re taking the freedom of information side. This was sure to get him all riled up appropriately, she said; he was an old hippie at heart still.

It worked. He didn’t trust the government. Duh. Who did? By the grace of God, whom Lucy did believe in even though Raul didn’t, he had a sun-faded dog-eared poster on his wall – one of dozens – that in particular showed all of the 10 Dash codes. The old standard 10-4 plus 10-100 and maybe 10-20 were close enough to common knowledge. But what about officer down? And yes the police department had one for officer unaccounted for/failing to respond, etc.

“What’s the difference between that one and officer down?” Lucy innocently tried to give the impression that she thought the only reason an officer would fail to respond would be if she/he were in mortal danger.

No, he said it could just be equipment failure, or an administrative glitch like a last-minute rescheduling of the shift and someone forgets to log it. But he made it clear that he hadn’t heard that one in many moons. No comment like “oh, funny you should mention that one… just the other night,” and so on. There were numerous “officer downs” in the last several years, but nothing recently, and certainly nothing about four officers disappearing along with two of their cars. They were, however, experimenting with the new encrypted digital signals, though they weren’t standard yet for all communications. Then he wanted to talk about his ham radio, and his shortwave antenna rig that allowed him to clearly pull in broadcasts from Cuba. Keith wasn’t exactly sure what any of this meant, how it mattered, etc.

So the take-home message: the cops weren’t publicizing anything about the case. They certainly weren’t putting up roadblocks or having a nationwide manhunt for some multiple cop killers.

Next problem: surveillance video. Not the kind from dashboard cameras, but elsewhere in the city. Traffic light cameras? She had heard that ATMs now all have cameras. Have they always had them, she wondered? They needed to retrace their route as accurately as possible to see what cameras might be positioned along the way.

Her next suggestion was a bit elementary, but made sense. Change of appearance. No one had a valid ID on them that night, so there was no way the cops called in any names or drivers license numbers. They were all in high school and only three of them could drive. One was suspended, and the other two didn’t bring anything because they were all on skateboards. For their entire lives, the drinking age was too high for any of them to pass except maybe Jared. And he had a fake with a different name. One of the cops had easily spotted the fake I.D. and confiscated it.

So Jared was alerted never to use that name again, just in case they had radioed it in that night before being exterminated. The girls all had fun changing their hair colors and/or styles; some of the guys did too. Their clothes were nondescript anyway.

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

It turned out to be unnecessary to disguise themselves. No images were captured of any of them, Lucy found out years later from a source she couldn’t even have imagined in ‘96-‘97.

What happened next, before Martin Luther King’s birthday that year, was the best possible news imaginable. Lucy saw the female officer... alive! She was working security at the courthouse when Lucy went to take her mom to a court appearance for a DUI. Lucycat had always had a photographic memory for faces and it had only been a few weeks. She told Castadiva excitedly: That meant they could be off the hook... right?

Lucy and Diva put 2 and e together, applied the change of base formula for logarithms, and performed a few other elementary operations to come to their own unique conclusion. They hadn’t been attacked by a death ray, but rather “beamed” à la Star Trek. Lucy was generally regarded as the genius of the group. She joked, paraphrasing Herman’s Head, “that’s like being the Best-Looking Oak Ridge boy.” Castadiva chimed in with “or the best opera singer in...” She cut herself off, having previously promised Lucy that she’d stop disrespecting the place they were both from. Lightheartedly she made fun of her “hometown” too but it seemed like they both pined for it sometimes. Both girls often said they’d like to trade skill sets, `Diva wanting to be more SAT smart, and Lucy coveting her creative genius. They finally got ahold of Keith on Lucy‘s new cellular phone to tell him the good news. They recognized another one of the “dead cops” several days later; also very much alive.

Ambraluxia

“If one were to try an experiment in time travel,” she thought-questioned the baby “wherein history was completely reset and allowed to proceed forward without making any changes, then how would the new future look?”

The baby answered, “the same as before?” This was an opportunity to educate him. The Councilwoman ၕo ࿔ᠶó�� felt confident that an A.I. such as she would be a most excellent babysitter for her son. Ambraluxia had a lifetime of real world adventures in intergalactic space to share with young ᡜℏញ.

She retold her version of the story of “Earth” to the baby. Kids always loved that one. What was the difference between a time machine and a matter rearranger? Nothing, of course. The introduction of the observer into the scene made both of them merely approximations. If you could truly rewind the universe to an earlier configuration, there would be no observer in that universe to witness it because all of the atoms (as well as energy) in the observer would have to be reset to their prior arrangements also. Including those in brain cells. Every scrap of matter and energy must be reset in order for you to have truly reproduced the past.

At best, you’ve reorganized the universe into a very elaborate period-based theme park for an observer whose body and mind did not participate in the rearranging. Only observers outside could see it if it were absolutely identical to a past moment. So why had the professor’s mind not been correctly reproduced like the one of the character in that Sphere film? “Zero point vibrational energy is not the same for all sets of particles every time a universe is rewound?” was the baby’s innocent reply. Essentially correct she noted, smiling... So adorable at this age!

So the humans ended up “terraforming” Venus as well as Mars in this alternate future. The one called Young Padmanabhan (they both laughed about that one word- young! As if any human had ever lived long enough to be considered old by ᡜℏញ’s species) and his husband Eric, had been partially correct. Humans were attracting the attention of advanced extraterrestrial civilizations, but not because of the implosion ablation of Venus’ atmosphere with some firecrackers. They didn’t know the rule of territoriality that gave humans unlimited access to all planetary resources in their solar system as long as they were on/in uninhabited places.

Now, starting a second galactic nucleus in such a way that you rip holes in the fabric of the universe allowing matter and energy from multiple dimensions to pour into each other… That’s just downright annoying.

Padmanabhan

“Why wasn’t the land checked thoroughly – they had the technology – before citizens were allowed to move in?” Padmanabhan hadn’t slept in 23 hours and ignored Eric‘s perfectly reasonable question, without meaning to. He was preoccupied with something his subconscious glimpsed in a photo from one of the news articles and was trying to go back over it. It was that feeling like when you dream a thing that shouldn’t be there and then the realization wakes you up. One time he dreamt an entire floor of his parents’ house that didn’t exist. He really didn’t want to be rude. “It was 2048,” he murmured absentmindedly, “you didn’t have to be a citizen to own a house yet.” Eric knowingly answered “oh that’s right,” as if he remembered any history or government from school.

Then it hit him! “Eric! Either I’m dreaming or your alien theory just got slam-dunk-proven! Look at the people in this photo and tell me who or what you see please.” Eric smiled as he ported the monitor output to his head wire, closing his eyes. He looked pleased that he might actually be right about something requiring technical intelligence. “If you were dreaming, wouldn’t I be standing on a pyramid in sort of sun god robes with a thousand naked women screaming and throwing little pickles at me?” Eric opened one eye to check `Rajan’s reaction. Only a weak smile. They had learned to communicate in old movie code and he woke up with bed-head that morning which both of them agreed resembled the pompadour-esque hairdo sported by Val Kilmer in the movie. Communicating in movie references became part of their inside humor. “OK, I’ll be serious.” He closed both eyes again to concentrate on the monitor.

“Oh there they are! I see what you mean now. What in the world are they wearing though? Blues Brothers? Or that Will Smith/Tommy Lee movie? He’s rockin’ it, but the Annie Hall thing just does not work for her…” His voice trailed off as he realized his husband’s stress level had just jumped again. “Don’t furrow your brow that way babe, it’ll make you look like Ernest Borgnine. I want my Jimi Mistry back!”

“Rolla dear, please, it was Tommy Lee Jones. The other guy was the drummer from some 1980s hair metal band. But tell me just so I know I’m not going insane, who is wearing those suits?”

“Well that remains to be seen, Kent, but we are looking at your two friends, Alex and Priyanka… um, sorry, Prajina. It’s definitely them.” Eric hadn’t connected the dots yet, as his head wire monitor only intercepted the image `Rajan wanted him to see, and not the whole article.

“How old do they look to you Eric?” He tried to remember, and then thought about whether this might be a trick question… Hadn’t the three of them all been born on the same day or something? Maybe it was in the same month. “Um, they’re about the same age as they were when I last saw them three and a half years ago, dear, over eighteen I guess; late teens to early twenties? Or maybe about like I’d expect them to look now. Why?”

Why? Because the picture was of a crowd of onlookers observing rescue workers – it was quite the miracle that no one was killed when the collapse happened – only a few minor injuries. It was at the site of the Kentucky sinkhole 92 years ago! The photo was from 2048. Alex and Prajina had time-traveled back into the last century. Either Alex was a much more prolific boy genius than he let on and had invented a time machine – not likely, as he was not known to be modest about his accomplishments – or aliens really were involved.

Meanwhile Eric had a very strange complaint: looking out their bedroom window into the city at night, on the balcony of a building across the street from them... Rajan hadn’t had any of his mind blogging features sharing things with Eric at the time. But Eric’s complaint out loud sounded like he was reading word for word about the hallucinations that his husband had after disconnecting his MindWire virtual sensorium rig.

He even made the Predator analogy, describing the shadowy things on the neighbor’s balcony. But no way had Eric been connected long enough to be experiencing these kinds of side effects. Rajan wondered if it was possible to sneak a virus in on one of the rom-macro-molecule chips... but even so, how does that have any influence on a person’s mind and optic nerves afterwards, when switched off? It had been too long a day and he just fell asleep. Of course Eric was there to cover him, straighten his head out, get his pillow comfortably under him, and put all his devices on the charging station for the rest of the day.

Brenda

A post office in the mall? She thought to herself to take her mind off it. Hmm, that’s something she hadn’t seen in San Antonio. This “galleria” in Houston was special, historically though. Cryptomancer’s parents had met there on their first date in the 90s when there was still a Bennigan’s overlooking the ice-skating rink. His real name, Bobby, made her think of the cyberpunk character, and like a dork she asked him if his last name was Newmark when they first met. Fortunately, he was just as geeky and responded “I can be, if you’ll be Steppin’ Razor.” Brenda held off on asking him why he had a PO Box in the galleria post office. Wasn’t snail mail kind of un-cyberpunky for him? Her mind couldn’t help drifting back to “it.” The “spot.” If it existed, how big was it?

Dammit, they weren’t supposed to get out of the car. If the restaurant they drove thru to satisfy their munchies hadn’t been spewing out a generously strong free WiFi signal, and if Bobby’s devices hadn’t already recognized the network from having joined it before, he wouldn’t have even gotten the notification (he had some, frankly, paranoid-sounding reasons for not wanting to use LTE when out and about) that led him to wanna go check his box. Perhaps a public restroom and some change she’d grabbed from his car console to get an emergency pad would take care of it? That was roughly the plan. She wasn’t supposed to have needed any.

But this was altogether different; her first time in six months. But also her first time ever for going out afterwards without bathing / freshening up in some way. Plenty of change available in all kinds of little compartments throughout his car, and no complaints from him naturally, as she’d simply mumbled something about “a vending machine.” He didn’t ask. Maybe he was focused on thinking about “them?” A possible strategy for her, to take her mind off it as they walked through the parking garage.

Them. Thirty-three people have made contact before today. That was not including Bobby/ Cryptomancer who was brought in for technical support. What Brenda noticed about all of them, starting back with Madhvi and Irving, was that they had copies of files or printouts about Stalko-Taco even though they weren’t fans. How weird is that? If you were a fan, not only was your memory of him (it?) utterly Destroyed, all documents you may have had to jog your memory of the story, and remind you that it existed, were just mysteriously gone somehow too.

That even applied to old Polaroid photos that Wheeler had had of himself trying to do Stalko-Taco cosplay in the outfit his mom started to make for him. She had chatted with his mom recently again, an otherwise normal woman as far as memory goes, and found that she still remembered nothing about it either. Brenda still hadn’t floated her “Happening” theory to Bobby or anyone else because she was afraid it was just too stupid and she was already a bit self conscious about being one of the few liberal-artsy-girls among this bunch of super brains. They’d most likely, she thought, shoot the idea down with their in-depth understandings of all things technology-related.

Okay, now she oozed. The feeling was unmistakable. They were going in their sweatpants and t-shirts for this. Sweaty workout clothes? Perhaps people would think they’d just been exercising? And of course Houston was hot as hell as usual. Yeah right. And her only sweat just happened to be in that spot! Obviously not blood. Would people think she was sexually aroused and that was her own juice flowing? Maybe they’d simply think she couldn’t hold her pee and had a slight accident that way. Or would they guess that the guy she was walking with had just fucked her a few minutes ago and it was his semen leaking out of her as she walked? Was it even that conspicuous that anyone could possibly notice?

“Seems that only if you didn’t really like Stalko-Taco, but had documentation about him anyway,” Bobby ventured distantly almost as if talking to himself but still momentarily glancing at Brenda, “your documents are intact!?” What had they done, he went on wondering aloud, contacted everyone in the fanbase, then Will Smith flashy-thinged them and confiscated their papers?

Maybe. But then why ignore the people who weren’t fans? Well perhaps they thought there wouldn’t be that many. A non-fan who for some reason still has copies of the story anyway? Unlikely? They were basically right, to a good approximation. Only 33 in the world so far.

Plus whomever we might discover today through this thing Bobby called his low-tech back channel; his PO Box. But first, and at last, a ladies room. He was dead set to proj on to his box, but could tell she really needed to divert over to the restrooms. But did she? What if the spot that she was Sooo sure was visible and the size of a pizza, was in fact the opposite of visible and she’d been worrying about nothing. There was enough of a lull in this weekday crowd flow that they had a moment of total privacy in the hallway outside. She quickly asked him “ok, be honest Newmark, can you see a stain on me if you look at my butt? Or from the front?”

Once he got it, he was sweet about it; no vulgar joking or anything. “Honestly,” he calmly smiled, “if you hadn’t bent over just right and drew my attention to it, I’d never have noticed. I’m positive no one else has either.” But yeah, he now agreed with her that the box could wait another several minutes or as long as necessary. And wanted to know if she’d grabbed enough change because he truly didn’t have a clue how much those things cost. It made her feel better to just deal with it while they were there.

She found herself thanking him for not being grossed out by it or thinking it made her seem slutty – in retrospect, kind of a sad commentary on other boys she’d known so far. And finally, as they reached the public facilities, tried to lighten up by pointing out that since he was the only other person who knew about the secret spot, it could serve as a reminder that he’d “marked her as his territory.” Admittedly she was going for this effect, but just hadn’t thought it would work so well. As the sound of her own flirtatious words still echoed in her ears, she could see him visibly Grow! The grey sweat pants were kinda baggy and his briefs weren’t tight enough to restrain it. Awesome.

She’d thought earlier about getting back to his place and showering and discarding their “workout clothes”, then possibly another romp between the sheets. He was sexually spent until later this evening – at night at least, with a possible afternoon nap, he could be ready to go again. Now she mused that maybe he wouldn’t need the nap after all.

The pad probably wasn’t needed either. But since she had made such a fuss about taking this detour... might as well go ahead and get it. But hurry up, she told herself; she wanted to see what was supposed to be waiting at this box as much as he did, and now with her pants down she saw that the thing was decidedly tiny. The best thing to come out of this was what had popped up in the hallway outside, she thought smiling wryly into the mirror over the sink. After rushing her washed hands under the dryer so she could get back to Bobby and their business, she was surprised to see him shuffling around the corner, slightly out of breath and with some generic store bag in his hand.

Instead of waiting patiently as she had been picturing him, he’d run to a kiosk they passed on the way in. It gave her a slight melting feeling as he handed her the shirt. He kinda fumbled for the words to try and tell her what he was recommending that she do; something almost all girls know about already, and so she nodded and thanked him warmly with a let’s-feel-if-that-bulge-is-still-there hug... as she had tied the sleeves around her waist faster than he could explain the configuration. In truth, she thought, while boys may or may not know about it and might just think it’s a fashion choice, it pretty much screams out to most women. The thing that wasn’t noticeable before had now been transformed into an unmistakable “oops” signal.

But most of us have been there or known a friend who has, so it’s not like anyone would have an attitude over it. It was just too sweet a gesture from him to not oblige him by wearing it as he had envisioned it.

So next stop, the box, to find out how many more “un-erasables” there were in the world (besides the current thirty-three) who could still remember Stalko-Taco.

Weird Shapes

She wasn’t sure what store the display was supposed to be for. It was kind of on the wall between a clothing retailer and a card and gift shop. It seemed rather a waste of money; if you were going to invest in uber-expensive hologram technology then you’d better make sure people know which damned store the ad goes with.

Bobby appeared to be impressed with it also. Being a techno-wizard, it didn’t matter to him so much what the message was – it was just pretty cool to see them showing off their advanced holography.

If they hadn’t both been in such a hurry they might have hung around and gawked like sightseeing tourists.

Meanwhile, if the inter-dimensional travelers had been able to pat each other on their backs... they might have been tempted to in celebration of their mastery of camouflage for once! For the next phase of their operation, in this same human city only a bit later, they wouldn’t need camouflage. It was almost time for the actual confrontation with one of the humans; the one they estimated could likely handle seeing their true form.

Back to Brenda

I could tell my new boyfriend was mad about the eraser situation. At first I mistook it for a general moral indignation, like how dare the government do this to citizens, but realized now that it was more personal for him.

He had never heard of Stalko-Taco. But he liked most creepypastas. Even the ones that weren’t especially his favorites, he had bothered to read and knew them in detail. He could recognize who each character was supposed to be on Madhvi’s DeviantArt. Naturally he had no memory whatsoever of Stalko-Taco. Which meant that he was in the other category. He was quite apart from this group of 33; he had most likely been a fan. Upon reading all of the unique documents that each of us had found, although Bobby had no memory of the stories at all, he laughed at parts; said “cool” at one point.

Yep, he had been a fan. And like millions of others, his memory had been erased. But not only that, his personal files on his computer had been deleted in a way that left no trace. One of the best hackers in the world had been hacked – something heretofore regarded as an impossibility had been perpetrated against him – and he was infuriated, no doubt.

That turned him vicious, as far as I could tell. High-ranking government officials in the administration had sent encrypted compressed steganographically hidden documents to countries they weren’t supposed to have contact with... they hadn’t of course. Not voluntarily. The great Cryptomancer had caused their devices to do it, though. He not only framed them, but the so-called “plaintext” files that he had encrypted, were in fact gibberish as she understood it. Batches of random numbers, he explained, that he’d generated with two different americium-type smoke detectors and two bananas, with two separate geiger counters. The time intervals between decay events from multiple sources being routed out of signals from two different detectors, he said, would be truly random.

At first Brenda didn’t get it. Basically it meant the NSA would be having shit-fits thinking they were unable to decrypt the “messages” when in fact there was no message, and simultaneously wasting both manpower hours and valuable CPU time – hopefully on some of the NSA’s most expensive equipment.

It gave him a warm fuzzy feeling, also, to think that powerful, high-level spooks in the government would be needlessly interrogating other government bureaucratic officials. He admitted that he was “a bit annoyed” by the erasers.

“A bit annoyed?” Brenda thought… She wondered to herself “what would you be like if you were really pissed?”

Among the letters he got were items from someone named Lucycat Beall in Santa Cruz. She claimed to have an original Yves St. Laurent in her closet that had been authenticated and wondered if he’d be interested. She pointed out that it had only been worn by the model on the runway where it was first shown. That was a lower level code that meant she was one of us. But with a modification: if Brenda was interpreting it right, she was saying that she had actually seen the original Stalko-Taco, in “person” as it were.

Did she mean that she had seen the first draft, and remembered it? That she actually knew the author? Was the author? No, it almost sounded like she literally meant that Stalko-Taco was real and not a story and that she had seen the actual taco. Well, once Bobby decrypted the message in her poetry, they’d know more.

Continue on to next section…

If And Only If

by Michelle Viviénne de Vandahlcourte

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

First Edition. © December 16, 2015.

Everything from here👇 and below is not part of the story but a comment section from DeviantArt, which I use to talk about why I gave this and possibly other sections a ‘mature’ rating.

For this section I wasn’t sure if I should indicate that it has “mature content” when the upload questionnaire appears.

As anyone reading has figured out by now, this is a science fiction novel. Primarily. But some of the characters in it are humans. They have sex sometimes. But there’s no sex scene in it – without creating a plot spoiler – it’s just a character acknowledging that she recently f**ked another one and that she’s looking forward to doing it again with him later.

I’m not sure if this qualifies for the mature content rating; it has survived in this form on my old tumblr for almost seven years now… and tumblr these past few years is well known for having hissy-fits over anything even remotely sexual.. and even some things that aren’t. But to avoid any problems I’m designating it as ‘mature.’

If this really causes anyone trouble, they can see the original ancient tumblr here…

vandahlcourte.tumblr.com/post/…

…and will have all the same files (including these newly re- proofread ones from just last month). It would just require a lot more scrolling. But also please note, that as you navigate through the old tumblr files, they eventually will want you to sign in or sign up for a tumblr account if you don’t already have one. Then you’ll also be able to see all my original posts from October 2015 which are fraught with even more spelling and grammar errors😅

0 notes

erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

Crackin’ the Code

prompt: Harry and YN tie the knot in a beautiful castle off the coat of Italy. Harry reflects back on his life before his love. YN has past insecurities creep on on her before the wedding.

note: this is the necklace that YN receives as (one) her wedding gifts from H and she wears it during the ceremony.

word count: 9k

warnings: smut

***<-- click for visuals throughout (super important for this one shot!)

if you enjoy this fic (which i worked REALLY hard on) please reblog, like, comment, and come talk to me!

please please considering donating to my kofi since all my work is FREE to you guys!

---

The world expected an extravagant wedding with week-long festivities, celebrations in destinations only the richest could afford, and all the big names of the business world who ran in his circle.

The media outlets were just waiting, quite impatiently, for the day that the richest man in Europe settled down with a significant other. They would have news stories for decades when it came to the couple.

Of course, Harry Styles was going to marry a household name - the public thought.

Whether it be an heiress, a model, maybe even an actress? The choices for the most eligible bachelor were limitless.

Any time he was at an event, usually a charity gala or black-tie dinner, paparazzi would take candid pictures of him with any female and then the following day publish an article about how they were a couple.

However, what the world didn’t know was that he’s been in a relationship for a year and a half, has already been engaged after the eight month mark, and moved into pretty soon after but that was hushed.

Nearly no one except a few key employees and family members knew about the couple. Everyone in his office building in the heart of London had to sign NDA’s at the beginning of their job - though almost all of them didn’t know she existed.

Harry did not put any limits on YN for the wedding planning.

No price, no expectations, nothing. If she wanted ten-thousand people or zero people in attendance that was her call. If she wanted to drop ten million dollars on a wedding or a hundred that was fine too.

The CEO never fantasized about a wedding.

Well he had but no in the terms most do. He didn’t sit and imagine the venue, the food menu, or the decorations.

No, he didn’t care about any of that, he daydreamed about the fact that he and someone would commit themselves to each other for the rest of their lives.

Harry wanted to marry his fiance after their first date.

He was usually a very patient man, couldn’t have gotten where he was if he wasn’t. When it came to this, each day he wasn’t married to the love of his life felt like torture.

Since he proposed to her in his briefs in their bedroom, he had imagined her looking immaculate in whatever she chose to wear, exchanging vows of devotion, and then being tied together for life.

He never thought he would get here. He’d never felt a connection with someone like he had with the feisty waitress who bumped into him. Begin to believe that he was broken or lacking emotion because no matter how sweet the girl was he couldn’t see himself with the person.

Don’t get him wrong.

He took many women out on dates that were downright awful. Asking him about money, suggesting he take them on expensive vacations or buy them a designer item, being too forward and palming his crotch in the middle of dinner.

One of the last dates he went on before he gave up was the one that made him stop looking all together, about six months before he ran in YN.

---

It was an expensive restaurant in the heart of London. It had a waitlist for months but one call and they could magically make an available booth for the billionaire within the hour.

The girl he was sitting across from was a so-to-speak blind date.

A set up by one of his business partners who stated that they would be a good match. Harry had rolled his eyes at that but couldn’t come up with an excuse fast enough to say ‘no.’

Her name was Aria, she had a respectable job at a local law firm as an assistant to a very well-known lawyer in the area.

She was beautiful in the way of looking just like an instagram model with long dark extensions, false eyelashes that made it hard to determine what color her eyes were, and an outfit that made Harry a bit embarrassed to be seen with her - short and low cut at a five-star restaurant.

“Yeah, I just got back from Mallorca with a group of friends,” She tells him, flipping through the photo album on her phone to show him pictures.

When she ‘accidentally’ swipes (and slowly swipes) again so that Harry definitely gets a glimpse of a nude selfie.

Harry internally groans, couldn’t be less turned on by that, and doesn’t acknowledge it - much to Aria's disappointment.

She was fishing for a compliment, maybe a request for him to take the phone and look closer at the picture like most men would.

Instead he sits back, takes a sip of his wine, and nods curtly, “It looks like you had a good time.”

She stumbles for a second, confused by his sudden standoffishness, and clicks her phone locked before putting it next to her on the table, “Did I offend you?”

He was already done with the date, with the dating scene, with fucking everything honestly.

What a goddamn waste of a night.

Harry barks out a cruel laugh, “It takes a lot more to offend me than a picture of y’tits but it’s a bit offensive that y’think so little of yourself that you think that’s how y’going to impress me. Those tits didn’t impress me much, darling.”

Aria’s eyes narrow in blatant disbelief at how much of an asshole he was being.

Granted, she did feel a bit of embarrassment creeping up in her stomach about thinking showing him that picture was a good idea but still, he didn’t need to react like that.

“It really makes sense why you don’t have a girlfriend, it’s because of what an asshole you are,” The girl sneers with venom as she tucks her phone into her clutch, swigging down the last drops of the expensive wine.

He shrugs like he’s unbothered, a nasty feeling quilling in the pit of his stomach as he keeps an outward expression of nonchalance and ease, it make the raven-haired woman even more furious as he replies cooly, “I’m not being an asshole, honesty hurts sometimes. Maybe if you think the way you attract someone is by nude pictures, you should try Tinder or Bumble.”

“I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have,” Aria tells him before pushing out her chair and leaving before the main course even arrives.

Harry sits there for a moment, swallowing and pleading with himself to not let the nasty words set in because they felt too real and too personal - she had actually struck some type of chord within and it had his stomach churning.

When he pays the bill, apologizing profusely for leaving dinner before the entree arrives but with an excuse of a company emergency - it’s eerily quiet in his car as he drives home to his massive home with no one in it.

It doesn’t happen often.

He should call his mum, Gemma, Dorothy even to talk it out but he feels so fucking alone because he can’t get it right. He can’t connect with anyone and it is starting to feel hopeless.

He is angry, so angry at himself, that he can’t shake the feeling of it and he feels like he’s losing control because he never fucking talks about his emotions.

A beautiful set of dishware was sitting out his dining room table, the housekeeper had carefully unwrapped them earlier in the day.

They were imported from Beijing, decorated with real gold, and handcrafted. It had cost him nearly forty-thousand dollars for a set of fucking plates and bowls.

I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.

It is repeatedly on a loop in his head, glares at the items on the dinner table like they’re mocking him, and he has no wits about himself before he’s taking one of the beautiful bowls and throwing it against the wall as hard as possible.

I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.

By the time he’s done, his chest is heaving, and his face is red.

When reality starts to set back in, every single item from the set is destroyed on the floor, the wall’s paint chipped from where he’d hurled them.

He was so fucked up.

Harry couldn’t help but relieve the feelings of that nasty flashback. He couldn’t believe that he had been at that point in his life - not when he had the most all-consuming, amazing in every single way woman laying next to him in his bed.

YN had shown Harry that he had never been broken, he had just been waiting.

She was his soulmate and he had been waiting for her since forever. He truly believed that as he looked at the girl next to him with enough emotion his heart might burst.

She was just...everything.

YN was so fucking funny - the funniest person Harry had ever met. She was loving in a way that made you feel like you belonged. Compassionate in a way that makes you want to be more selfless yourself. Intelligent enough that it was breathtaking and unreal - and that was just the tip of the iceberg.

She was uncaring of who Harry was - in the most perfect way.

Money wasn’t a personality trait that she defined him with. She loved him for who he was at the bare basics, stripped away from his public life.

She was confident in a way that girls rarely were.

Bared face and more beautiful than the highest-paid models.

Her body was her own, embracing every curve and inch of it without any shame. Let herself be authentic in front of Harry which made him feel like he had won a secret lottery.

Right now, she was fast asleep next to him in bed after stuffing herself full of oreos that she was dunking in milk. She ignored Harry’s looks of disgust at the soggy cookies and munched away happily which made him happy in turn.

She still had a dark crumb on the corner of her puffy lips, her mouth parted just the slightest amount, and her face smushed halfway into the pillow.

The shirt she had on was so oversized she was swimming in it and a pair of soft pink cheeky underwear.

Currently, she was the farthest thing from graceful and Harry loved that so fucking much.

As they lay mere days away from their wedding, remembering that nasty flashback, he can’t help but remember their first date and how he had known from them that he had finally found a spark, a connection to another human being.

Harry cannot remember the last time he had been nervous.

Maybe back in his teenage years? If that.

It was an unsettling feeling that was currently pooling in the pit of his stomach as he changed his outfit for the third time before finally being somewhat satisfied with the suit he had picked out - tighter black jeans, black button-up, black blazer - couldn’t go wrong there. ***

YN had texted him asking what she should wear for their first date when Harry told her he was going to keep it simple and take her to a restaurant.

He had to dress nice, it was an expensive restaurant that he had not taken any other dates to before, it was right outside of London - going towards the countryside with a beautiful view of a meadow and stream.

When he had arrived in front of her apartment, well he had never been on this side of town, and it quite frankly looked like the roof of her building was about to collapse at any minute. It was rough to say the least.

Harry had picked out a car he thought would impress her. He remembered her saying the doors of his Lamborghini were stupid so he picked a car with normal doors this time. It was his new Audi Quattro that had cost him upwards of 170,000 pounds. ***

YN had popped out of the front door, her face didn’t read impressed when she saw the car like he had hoped. It was interesting before YN, he did not care whether or not his dates were impressed by him - now he craved it.

She looked extraordinary in a form fitting silky black dress that hugged every single curve of her body perfectly while accentuating them at the same time. Minimal makeup, loose waves, and simple high heels - it was like a dream that he was taking this girl out on a date. ***

When she slips into the passenger seat, the smell of her floral yet cinnamon perfume makes the car smell heavenly, she looks over at him and says, “You didn’t even come open the door for me. We’re off to a bad start, Harry.”

His heart sinks, fuck - he had been blindsided by her beauty that he wasn’t even being a proper gentleman, “M’so sorry, I wa-”

She chirps out a tender laugh, patting his arm, “You’re face, oh my god. I was just fucking with you.”

Harry’s frown turns into a pout, “S’not nice, pet.”

YN shrugs before a bit self-consciously adjusting the fabric around her midsection, “Erm, I hope this outfit is nice enough? It’s really the only semi-decent thing I own.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, “Y’look absolutely stunning. I can’t even believe y’real to be honest, so fuckin’ pretty.”

YN gives him a shy, unsure smile but he can tell she’s preening at the compliment internally (which she totally is).

The restaurant is one of the nicest in England, let alone London.

There wasn’t even a menu, they just served eight courses over a few hours time by servers in suits with bowties on.

YN had never felt more out of place.

As they sat down, Harry was proud that he was able to show off his abilities for a good date, YN was looking around nervously before looking up at the server and saying, “We didn’t get menus yet.”

The man gives her a humorous expression before telling her, “We don’t do menus here, miss. Your date is a regular, I am sure he can fill you in. However, we are starting off with a Cabernet from 2001 imported from Napa, California.”

As he pours the wine into their sparkling glasses, she asks unknowingly, “I don’t really like wine. Is there any way I could get a Coke?”

Harry frowns when the server laughs meanly at her, “Ma’am this isn’t McDonald’s. We do not carry soda. I can provide you with water, if you so wish.”

Harry can’t help but snap at the waiter, “Oi, she’s never been here before. Lay off with the attitude alright?”

“My apologies, Mr. Styles,” He murmurs obediently before finishing the pouring off the whine and retreating from the table.

YN is trying to hide how uncomfortable she is but it is still obvious with how she fidgets in her seat, doesn’t quite know what to do with her hands as she doesn’t even bother to reach towards the wine glass.

“This isn’t really your scene, is it?” Harry murmurs, embarrassment with his failure to impress her with an expensive car and dinner.

It was falling flat and it was the only thing he knew how to do - flaunt his wealth, everyone else had always been impressed.

“No, it isn’t,” She agrees quietly, fingers folding the edges of the cloth napkin to keep her anxiousness directed somewhere, “I appreciate this, er, dinner. I thought we were going to go somewhere like Mary’s.”

Mary’s was a restaurant that was considered ‘nice’ to the commoners in the city. It was a bit more expensive than a pub and the attire was a bit fancier than if you were going out to a bar.

For someone like Harry, that was not considered a fancy restaurant.

However, YN was not him and this was not something that she had ever been accustomed to. He now definitely felt like an idiot.

It’s made even worse when a massive plate is put in front of each of them.

The plate is huge but the dish is merely one scallop with a lemon sauce and sprinkle of parsley on top. YN can’t even try to hide her confusion at the food.

“I’ve mucked this date up,” Harry sighs, nearly thirty minutes into the actual date.

YN had taken a small bite of the scallop before setting down her fork and not touching it again - it tasted like dirty feet. Did rich people like that taste?

She decides not to answer directly, “I already know you have money. It doesn’t ‘wow’ me. I was hoping for a fun date, this is….nice but quite truthfully, not for me. I prefer a pub or bowling - this feels more like a business meeting.”

Harry usually doesn’t have dates that are this honest with him.

He feels embarrassed but he really did appreciate her honesty. He should have known to do something different than this but he was comfortable with his normal pattern.

“Can we get out of here?” YN asks, placing the napkin back on the table and gathering up her small purse to swing over her shoulder.

He feels defeated as he nods, paying for the meal in full as he accepts that he’s fucked up the date beyond repair by being an arrogant, ignorant asshole who doesn’t truly know how to talk to a girl he likes.

It’s quiet as he starts the car and pulls back onto the road, he startles a bit when YN points to a glowing sign of a golden arch and demands, “Go there.”

With a bit of confusion, Harry pulls into the McDonald’s parking lot and then to the drive-thru as she motions for him to do so.

God, he hasn’t been to a fast food joint in years now if he was being honest.

When they pull up to the screen, YN leans across and shoots out their food order with ease before sitting back with a smug smile, “We’re going to have a date my way.”

Harry sighs with relief when he realizes the date isn’t over - but really just beginning. They sit and chat in the parking lot. He is thoroughly impressed when YN manages a box of nuggets, a fry, and a milkshake without shame.

Not like she should be shameful - just usually on dates women were hesitant to actually eat and instead picked carefully at their food instead. Their conversation in the car is bright, at some points deep and meaningful, but refreshing. It made him feel young again.

After they finished eating, she’s ordering him to drive a bit further out into the country where he can’t help but make the joke, “Are y’taking me somewhere to kill me?” YN smiles happily with a wide grin, “You’ll just have to wait to see.”

It ends up being a lake. A beautiful body of water that was surrounded by trees that were being reflected into the ripples with the light of the moon. The only sounds were of crickets chirping and the light lapping of the water against the small shore. ***

“I used to come here a lot in the summer in high school,” YN murmurs as Harry takes in the scenery of everything. It had been so long since he had appreciated nature - not the bright clear waters in the tropics but something like this.

“S’beautiful,” Harry replies, can’t help but observe this girl he’s infatuated beauty in the moonlight.

Her skin looks like it’s glowing, the moon sparkling off the twinkle of her iries, and she just looked...ethereal. Like she belonged in the beauty of the wilderness.

He couldn’t believe his eyes - had to blink harshly a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it when she pulls the thin straps of her dress down her shoulders and shimmy the garment down her body until she’s left in a delicate lace bra and cheeky pair of underwear.

Harry, always the gentleman, keeps his eyes (with effort) on her face. Unsure of what is going on in her mind before she turns around with a little run and dives headfirst into the deep waters before popping back up and giggling, “Jump in!”

She’s just so...carefree, adventurous. Harry hadn’t felt free in fucking years.

It has him shucking out of all of his clothing, just down to his tight black briefs before he’s diving in, right next to her, and feeling around. He wraps his hand around her ankle to teasingly tug her under with him before they both surface.

As they wad in the water, YN swims over to him, and wraps her legs around his waist, arms around his neck. Her soaking wet hair was dripping and he was breathing heavy, feeling his ribcage expand against her soft tummy.

She murmurs quietly over the light lapping over the water, “You haven’t even looked at me once.”

Harry swallows, feeling like a schoolboy again, “I...I didn’t want to without permission.”

“I want you to look at me,” YN replies, letting her nose nudge his and her eyes searching into his nervous ones.

He nods, closing his eyes when he feels her lips brush his, letting his large palms grip at her sides and pull her closer to his chest. Their lips not breaking when his hands begin to explore the intricate, plush curves of her body.

They don’t do anything else, don’t go any further but he groaning when she traces her fingertips down his muscular, defined abs and thumb rubbing over the trail of light hair leading into his briefs.

After a swim, filled with splashing and dunking, they retired to lay in the grass. Both of their backs, looking up at the clear night sky, moon full and stars glittering against the stark darkness that surrounds it.

YN wriggle until she’s tucked into his side, hand running up and down his chest, as she says, “I’m sorry your date didn’t go as planned. I ruined it.”

“Y’didn’t ruin anything. I...I haven’t felt like this in a long time,” Harry admits as he gives off an embarrassed laugh, “I..I’m a little bit scared, to be honest.”

“Scared? Of what?” YN asks, lips pressing against a tattoo on his bare shoulder.

“Because I already am falling for you,” Harry utters, heart racing and his eyes glued upwards and pointedly not wanting to see her interaction.

“That’s a relief.”

His eyebrows shoot up, “A relief?”

“Yeah, I would say. I’m falling too,” YN whispers before leaning up to connect their lips once more as the moon rises further in the sky and the crickets sing a little louder. They lay like that for a very long time.

Harry went home that night for the first time not feeling the empty weight of his loneliness, instead he feel asleep imagining the beautiful, spontaneous girl next to him in his bed.

It wasn’t going to be the wedding everyone expected for The Harry Styles. **

There was not many invites set out for this event. It wasn’t the wedding of the century or the most expensive wedding of the decade.

Harry would have let his wife-to-be have this day however she wanted without complaint but could say he was very happy that it was going to a be a low-key event. It was going to be some of YN’s family, though she didn’t have much, and Harry’s extended family. No one from work or business. Just family.

They had just gotten finished with the rehearsal dinner, the couple being ordered to separate rooms for the final night before they were married. It was tradition.

Harry had walked YN to her hotel room, they were staying at the venue, and pressed her up against the door. His hand coming to weave into her meticulously curled hair and cupping the back of her head, bring her mouth to his.

He wastes no time in letting his tongue find hers, hips coming to press her further back against the aged wood, and his teeth nipping roughly at her plump bottom lip, “Baby, y’gonna be m’wife tomorrow.”

YN’s eyes twinkle up at him like they did during their first date, “I can’t wait. I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

His fiance laughs kindly as he gets a bit watery eyed, her thumb coming to swipe under his eye, she jokes, “Are you regretting proposing now?”

“Just never knew I could be this happy,” He murmurs against her lips, can’t help but reach around to grip a generous amount of her backside and pulling her flush against him where he’s hardening quickly.

“Mm, down boy. You don’t get the goods until tomorrow,” YN scolds, hand wrapping around his wrist and squeaking when he squeezes harder to get the point across - how much he wants her, all the fucking time.

“Want it now, pet,” Harry whines lowly, grinding his hips forward into her, “Give it t’me, y’mouth, y’cun-”

“Alright lovebirds! Separate now!” Gemma barks to interrupt with the laughter of their childhood friend Chloe.

They pull Harry by the back of the shirt and push him forward towards his room, Gemma smiles back at YN, “Make him put a ring on it before you give it to him!”

“Gem!” Harry scolds with a whine, giving his fiance puppy dog eyes and a pouted bottom lip, “Baby, don’t let them take me!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, I love you!” YN shouts back, waving and smiling to herself as she opens up the door to her room and then locking it after she steps in. It feels weird being in a hotel room without him but she was a bit sweaty and her nerves were wiry so she decided a nice bath would be a good idea.

It’s past two in the morning and she was no less ready to find sleep. The worries of whether everything will be set up properly, if she’ll stutter during her vows, there were just so many things that could go wrong.

Life didn’t even seem real at this moment.

She was marrying her husband at an amazing castle on the coast of italy with family to surround them in love. She had the perfect dress, the perfect flowers, the perfect partner. ***

She had never had it easy. Never thought she would deserve something like this. Harry had made her feel worthy of all this, they deserved to have a happy ever after.

When it hits three in the morning, she can’t stand the quiet of the italian countryside anymore, and is swinging her legs over the bed. She pockets the keycard Harry gave her earlier in the day in her cotton shorts before sneaking out of her room.

After she taps the card to the sensor, the large oak doorknob clicks, she slips in and closes the door as silently as possible. YN steps in to the room, Harry's asleep in his bed on his stomach, face smushed into the pillow.

Harry’s facial expression and body language while he was awake was so severe, serious, intimidating. In sleep, his face was lax and his limbs loose. He looked more boyish when he was dreaming.

YN’s heart aches at how much she loves him, pulling the covers up, and crawling under them until she’s jostling him unintentionally, waking him from his light sleep with a mumble, “Baby, y’okay? Wha’s wrong? Y’alright?”

She giggles at his dazy panic, “I just missed you.”

“Mmm,” Harry agrees, pulling her all the way down and rolling on top of her, “Missed y’more.”

“You’re like a toaster!” YN squeals as he’s encompasses her, laying on her with his weight. His lips finding her pulse point and gently sucking. He was barely awake and he still couldn’t stop himself from her finding comfort in her body.

“I’m warmin’ y’up,” Harry growls against her neck before giving her a lick which has her giggling even more and pushing him off until he falls on his back and she’s swing her legs over his waist, straddling him.

“Y’breakin’ the tradition, m’heart.”

YN shrugs, humming while he palms at her belly, and she (much to his disappointment) ignores where he’s hard and waiting for her.

“I want t’sleep with you,” She pleas sheepishly, leaning all the way over to connect their lips in a quickie peck before she’s moving off of him and into his side.

“Never say no to you, y’know that, dovie,” Harry replies as if it’s obvious (it is).

“We’re getting married tomorrow,” YN whispers into the dark, like it’s a secret just between the two.

Harry nuzzles his nose against her temple, “Never wanted anythin’ more than I want you.”

YN can’t help but sniffle softly, overwhelmed with emotion and love, “You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you.”

“You saved me. You saved me from myself, from where I was going. You gave me hope, feeling again. Y’are m’heart, it fuckin’ beats for you.”

It may not be tradition but YN wouldn’t of had it any other way, sleeping in a magnificent castle on the ethereal coast of Italy in a classic hotel room, and the excitement of their wedding rumbling in both of their stomachs.

“You sneaky bastards!” Bethany screeches, door flinging open with Gemma in tow as they intrude into Harry’s room - finding the couple curled up under the covers with Harry spooning YN with his face tucked into her hair.

“Fuck off,” Harry groans, pulling his fiance closer into his chest as she wriggles awake and whimpers lowly, “Mornin’ lovie.”

“Out out!” Gemma shoos, pulling the covers off of them and the sisters showing no mercy while they yank YN out of the bed and titter about how she needs to start getting ready, no time for cuddles, breaking traditions.

“Bring her back!” He whines childishly, hurling a pillow at his sister’s retreating back as they guide YN back to her own room.

“You’ll see her in a few hours!” Gemma shouts back before slamming the hotel room door and leaving Harry to doze off for just a few more minutes.

Hair and makeup went fast.

It was getting closer and closer to actually walking down the aisle towards her soon-to-be life partner and she’s never felt more nervous.

Rosemary and Bethany were all rushing around - attempting to get ready in the midst of getting the bride ready.

YN didn’t want to look like a doll or have any intense makeup. It was a soft champagne smokey eye with dewy skin and a glowing highlight. A nice lip with a bit of glittering gloss.

Her hair was in big, loose curls that cascaded down her back with the front pulled off of her face. A real white flower holding it back.

Then it was the dress. She was anxious about whether Harry would like it or not. She wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to wear - a massive ball gown, a form-fitting mermaid, or something less over-the-top?

It was a show-stopper that had her memorized when she had first seen it - could automatically imagined herself getting married in Italy with this on her body.

It was also one of the only times she didn’t even care about the price tag - she knew this was it. Yes, it was absurd to spend fifty thousand pounds on a dress but it was the one time she took advantage of Harry’s wealth.

It was flowy, reminding her of the soft waves that lapped at the coast of the italian beaches. It was sophisticated, classy with a sharp starch white that billowed into a dreamlike beauty.

What had made her fall in love was the sheer, detailed sleeves that gave the dress more of a vintage, glamour appearance than the modern tight-fit, overly sexy gowns that most brides wore nowawadays. ***

The train was long and sleek. It would trail beautifully down the aisle before being bustled for the reception. It made her feel confident in a way that an item of clothing next had made her feel before.

“Your tits look amazing,” Bethany compliments before giggling when their grandmum pinches her arm for her crude language.

YN couldn’t find it in her to laugh. She felt like her voice was stuck in her throat and it wasn’t moving.

It started to feel real.

The fact that Harry had proposed, had planned a wedding with her, that he was agreeing to marrying her today.

It was starting to scare her - no, not cold feet but anxiety that he would realize that he could do better than the lowly waitress.

Now, on a normal day, she wouldn’t be having these irrational thoughts. Today was different and it felt too good to be true.

Rosemary and Bethany sense the tension in the room, rub her shoulders, and respect her wishes when she asked for a moment alone.

YN debates picking up her phone, knowing he was busy with his bigger side of the family in the groom’s suite.

She finds herself picking up her mobile, dialing his number, and waiting with bated breath for his syrupy, warm voice to pour through the speaker.

“Everythin’ okay?” He answers, she can hear Anne and Gemma tittering about in the background, yelling at him to get a move on.

“I’m scared,” YN whispers, she holds back her tears because the last thing she wanted to do was ruin her meticulous makeup.

“Leavin’ me at the altar?” Harry jokes lowly, stepping away from prying ears.

YN giggles at his teasing tone, “Never. I…I feel like this is all too good to be true. Like it’s a dream and I’m going to wake up.”

Harry huffs, “Sweetheart. Y’my soulmate, if y’wake up - I’m right there with you, okay? God, if anyone is dreamin’ it’s me. I get t’marry the most beautiful, intelligent -“

Gemma’s voice interrupts him, “You already seduced her into marrying you! We don’t have time for this sweet talk!”

The line goes dead but YN feels much better now.

—

Rosemary was going to be the one walking her down the aisle to her new husband. It didn’t feel right to have anyone else do it as she was the one who raised her into the strong, independent woman she was today.

YN knew she wanted to have an outside wedding.

What would be more perfect than a cool evening in Italy? It was what she had dreamed about since she was little without the idea that it would ever happen.

The weather was absolutely perfect. There was a slight warm breeze that would keep the guests from being overheated, the sun was peeking in and out of vibrant white clouds that complimented the blue sky.

She knew exactly where Harry would be standing.

Underneath a beautiful, dated archway with intricate designs about.

The old material had lovingly grown luscious ivy that kissed the walls in a swirling, natural design.

YN would never forget how beautiful that ivy had looked on her wedding day, encompassing the magnificent that was her soon-to-be husband.***

The venue was open, airy but still gave off an intimacy. There weren't many rows of chairs because not many were invited to share in such an ethereal experience where soulmates have found each other and were announcing their commitment to the world.

“Are you ready, my daughter?” Her grandmother had asked quietly as they lined up behind the expansive, old brick wall that hides them from the rest of the ceremony and crowd. She could hear the whispering as people took their seats.

YN nods, her vocal cords refusing to cooperate as she imagines Harry just as nervous on the opposite side with his family.

When the twinkling, traditional music begins from the small orchestra off to the side - the realization hits her - it is actually happening, right now.

Bethany puts her bouquet in front of her, giving one last meaningful smile at her sister before she takes her cue to turn the corner and begins her walk down the aisle.

It meant Harry was up there, watching as she was about to appear.

Then the orchestra’s melody became louder, more grand in the signaling for the guests to stand and turned toward the back of the room - awaiting the bride’s entrance to the ceremony.

Rosemary takes the initiative to hook their arms and guide her past the wall.

YN clutches onto her own flowers as if it’s her lifeline. ***

Every fear, insecurity, moment of self-doubt dissipates when her eyes connect to Harry’s. There is no longer a doubt in her mind that she wasn’t enough. It was a deep, unbreakable stare as Harry’s mouth parts in a gasp of awe.

He was in a suit that was undeniably him. It displayed how fucking regal he was, how it looked like he was handcrafted into the italian design, how it fit him just perfectly.

It wasn’t a normal tuxedo. It was a perfectly tailored, custom (of course) Gucci suit that excentuate his broad shoulders and the nip of his narrow hips *** ***.

YN can’t even hear the noise of the guests - whispering about how beautiful she looks.

All she can see is her future husband, who swallows harshly as an unexpected sob wracks through his chest at the sight of his bride.

The guests can’t help but look with wide eyes as the man they know - who they’ve barely ever seen smile, let alone cry, cannot control his emotions.

Gemma, who was his ‘best man’ which they deemed ‘best woman’, rubs his back soothingly with a watery smile herself at seeing her brother so estastatic as he looks at the woman of his dreams.

Harry rubs his eyes before meeting hers again.

YN is holding back her own tears as she reaches the end of the aisle.

In tradition as old as time, Harry steps forward and Rosemary passes her hand over to him in a signal that she trusts him to take care of the girl she’s spent meticulous time raising and cultivating into the person she is today.

“I trust you to take care of my girl, she is now yours,” Rosemary tells Harry, her tone is calm and full of emotion as she allows Harry to lean over to kiss her cheek softly.

Harry nods, his usually stable voice shaky as he replies, “I promise, I’ll take care of her until the day I die.”

Rosemary nods before patting his cheek and finding her seat in the audience.

When they are finally standing face-to-face, YN reaches over to thumb off a stray tear that was sliding down his cheek before he turns his head to kiss her thumb then kissing her palm.

Harry didn’t even acknowledge that there was anyone else watching - it was just him and her.

“Y’look breathtaking, can’t believe y’mine,” Harry murmurs trembling, his chest moving faster than usual and it felt like it was nearly impossible for him to catch his breath as he looked at the woman in front of him.

When it comes to the vows, Bethany hands over her small piece of paper that she had scribbled onto and scratched out multiple times - never quite able to get the wording just right and she says just that.

“I couldn’t find the right words to explain my love for you,” She starts, voice raspy as she looks up to see Harry watching her raptly, eyes intense and only focused on her.

“And maybe there aren’t even words to explain it because nothing felt like enough. It is how I feel a lot of the time with you. I’ll never have enough of you because you’re all-consuming to me. I have never felt happiness like I have with you.”

YN is trying to stifle her tears as she continues, Harry reaches out to rub her arm in reassurance then he lightly brushes over the new necklace he had gifted her, “You’re by far the most complex, closed-off person I have ever met. I feel like you’ve allowed me to crack the code and once I did, I wasn’t disappointed. I’ve cracked my own code, you see.”

“The code to explaining my feelings for you will come with my dedication, love, loyalty to be your wife for the rest of our lives.”

Harry can’t help what he does next despite it not falling in line at the ceremony.

His hands come up to cup her jaw and he sears his lips to hers, kissing her with all the passion and emotion he cannot seem to keep in any longer. It’s too much, has to show her in that moment how much he loves her.

A few of his uncles whistle from the crowd as their wives smack their chests in warning.

YN giggles, returning the kiss before pushing him off.

The look in his eyes is one she knows extremely well - it sends shivers down her spine and makes her hair stand on end -, the stare down of lust and want.

“Mr. Styles,” The officiant redirects, nodding towards the piece of paper he has in his hand.

“Yeah, sorry,” Harry mumbles, unraveling the wrinkled notecard he had tucked in his inner suit pocket.

“I knew I was in love with you the moment you spilled that drink on me and undressed me in that dodgy employee bathroom,” Harry says with full sincerity, smirking at YN’s blush when he brings up the way they met.

“I tried to talk myself out of it. It was impossible to fall in love in mere minutes of meeting someone but it was the truth. I knew after our first date that I wanted y’to be m’wife. I knew after the second that I wanted y’to be the mother of my babies one day. And by the third date, I was planning on buying you a ring.”

“It sounds insane because it is. I’ve never been an impulsive, spur-of-the-moment, hopeful person before you. You made me throw all that out of the window, you make me feel alive, and when I tell you that you saved me. You saved me, m’love.”

“There is a lot of uncertainty in this world but I can tell you one thing that is absolutely fuckin’ certain -”

“Harry,” YN hisses with an eye-roll at his crude language.

“The one thing that is absolutely certain in this world is that I will always love you, always take care of you, and always do everythin’ in m’power to make you happy.”

The guests in the chairs are quite speechless.

They’d never heard such passionate, meaningful vows from a couple.

This was not what they were expecting of Harry who had never once put his heart on his sleeve and right now he’d laid it all out on the table.

“YN LN, do you agree to take Harry Edward Styles as your husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant asks, voice ringing against the walls of the castle.

YN has to take a big breath before she replies in a strong, firm voice as her eyes bore into Harry’s, “I do.”

“Harry Edward Styles, do you agree to take YN MN LN as your wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant repeats.

Harry, in ever typical fashion, in his loud, booming voice replies, “Of course I fuckin’ do.”

The guests in the audience laugh lightly as the officiant states, “I now announce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Styles. You may now kiss your bride.”

It doesn’t take more than a second for Harry to step forward, grip her face and pull her in for a kiss, it doesn’t matter that their family is there to him as he licks into her mouth which is bordering on obscene before YN brings it back to a softer, more appropriate one.

He whispers against his lips, barely audible, “Can’t believe y’my fucking wife, m’fucking heart.”

As people are moving towards the reception area, Harry manages to find a secluded area of the outside gardens where there is no one in sight.

“Baby, baby, y’married me,” Harry is nearly chanting, like he’s in disbelief, at the same time he’s cornering his new bride up against the brick wall with his mouth trailing sloppy wet kisses down her shoulder.

“Mmm, it was everything I ever imagined, it was so beautiful. Everything I had imagined for our day,” YN replies blissfully, hands running carefully through his meticulously styled hair.

When he bends down and lifts up the bottom of her dress, she giggles when he ducks his head underneath all the tulle and fabric, finding a very skimpy pair of white lace panties that are supposed to be saved for later.

“Harry,” YN scolds half-heartedly, it would only take one person to find them in this undeniable inappropriate situation but she willingly let him push her further against the brick and take one of her legs over his shoulder.

“Baby, these fuckin’ panties,” He groans, muffled by the barrier of the heavy fabric, and she hisses when pulls them down to the thick of her thighs and his mouths finds her center within moments.

“Fu-fuck,” She hisses, trying to keep her moans down as he wastes no time in pushing in two thick fingers to curve towards her front as his tongue laps quickly and sloppily on her clit until it feels like she’s about to explode.

“S’right, fuckin’ m’cunt. I have it f’the rest of my life, found the best one,” Harry mutters against her wet skin, almost to himself like he can’t even believe the words, before he’s back to speeding up his fingers to match the rhythm of his mouth until she’s quivering for a whole other reason now.

It takes a few minutes for Harry to calm himself down enough to be able to go into the reception, he tells YN that he can’t even look at her right now because if he does he’ll be perpetually hard throughout the whole thing.

The reception is more of a dinner than a party.

Fairy lights strung above the two long tables where decadent, mouth-watering food was served with the orchestra playing light, melodic music in the background. ***

It was perfect.

Their family drank, laughed, ate, and were merry.

Everyone was basking in each other’s company, congratulating the new couple, and enjoying all the beauty that was surrounding them at the castle.

There is not much more to say than that.

The honeymoon suite was located on one of the highest floors of the castle, away from all of the other wedding guests and staff.

YN was sure it was beautiful but from the moment she was carried over the threshold, she didn’t see anything but her new husband - he was blinding in his beauty. His skin was glowing, a slight sheen of sweat from the reception, and the still warm bite in the breeze. ***

“Sweetheart, baby. Please let m’undress you, y’my wife,” Harry pleas softly, his hands are everywhere - her face, her shoulders, hips - continuously wandering as if it’s impossible to find one place to settle.

“Please, c’mon. I need you, H,” She agrees, letting him take down the zipper on the side of her gown.

The expensive garment discarded on the floor in a pool of fabric as he fully takes in her lingerie set. ***

“Fuck me, darlin’,” Harry chuckles in amazement, fingertips tracing over the delicate lace that was stitched by Alessandro Michele himself for the bride, "Y’body is a god damn dream, look at you. - fuck.”

“Please,” His wife whimpers, voice desperate as his light and careful touches are no longer enough.

She needs him close, she needs her husband.

“Okay, okay,” He simpers, moving her back until he can have her right where he wants her, on her back in the middle of the massive, blanket-ridden bed - her white lingerie standing out against the dark duvet.

Harry had always imagined this night.

To have someone laid out underneath him.

No rush, no urgency but to truly, physically show that person through touch that you love them.

He starts near her collarbone, feathery heated kisses that warm her skin as she welcomes him with heavy weight on top of her so eager he wasn’t even undressed yet.

When his mouth finds her nipples through the sheer fabric, she pushes her chest up in encouragement as he bites at the nubs with sharp but careful teeth that wet the fabric.

“It feels so good, baby,” YN mewls, letting him nip and suck for a moment before pushing him up until he’s rid of every inch of fabric that had been covering his body.

“M’always gonna make y’feel good. I’ll fuck you wherever, wehenver cause you’re m’wife,” Harry grunts, impatiently reaching behind to unclasp the corset until her breasts spill free and jiggle in a way that makes his mouth water.

“Wait, wait,” YN puts a hand to his cheek when he already has his mouth darting out to lap at her hardened nipple.

“Don’t make me wait, m’heart,” Harry grumbles with a furrowed brow, his hand still unable to stop from reaching up to palm at her full breasts, thumbs rolling the nipples as he stares fiercely up at her.

“You know how you got me a present?” YN murmurs, biting back a whimper when a zip of electricity shoots from her nipple down to where she’s already dripping for him, “I got you something too.”

Harry’s face relaxes, it’s like he finds his grounding again, “Baby, didn’t need t’get me anythin’. Y’the best fuckin’ gift I could have gotten. Does look beautiful sittin’ between y’tits though.”

His new wife giggles, “Well I really hope you like mine….it’s non-refundable.”

He looks at her with confusion even more so when she wriggles down her panties and flips on her belly with her arms resting under chin.

Of course, Harry finds it immediately and she can tell by the deep, pleased growl he emits from the back of his throat, “You fuckin’ didn’t.”

“I did.”

It was his name, small and cursive right on her bum cheek.

After they got engaged, he went out and got her name tattooed on his pec - much to her dismay.

She had never talked about returning the favor and had kept it the ultimate surprise.

“I think I almost just came from this,” Harry rasps, his fingers tracing the small ink over and over in awe, “Baby, y’put m’name on your bum. It makes y’look like my property, sweetheart.”

“I am yours,” YN giggles, yelping when she feels his teeth graze the sensitive skin before he’s suckling and licking at his name - can’t take his eyes off the beauty of her.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ are,” He agrees whole-heartedly, his hands calming to cup and palm at her cheeks as he fawns over his wedding present, “This is the best present I’d ever fuckin’ received, fuck - never goin’ to get over this.”

He doesn’t want to look away from the tattoo but knows how he wants to fuck his wife for the first time so he flips her onto her back once again, lips finding hers.

She whispers, hand wrapping around his cock, “Still have to pay you back for earlier.”

“No blowies tonight, pet. We’re goin’ to do it the right way, m’gonna make love to you,” Harry murmurs, his lips finding hers as he bats her hand away to grasp at his thick base. He teases the sensitive head over her clit and entrance a few times before slowly sinking in.

“Ohh, been ready for you all day. You looked like a fucking wet dream standing at the alter, waiting for me,” YN sighs happily, wriggling her hips to adjust a bit before she spreads her legs and lets Harry rest in between them, “Ever since I saw you in the suit, I’ve been waiting.”

“Yeah, baby? I can tell, y’so wet, warm f’me,” Harry praises, his movements are slow and unrushed, their hips meeting gently as he pushes in each time with care, “Can’t believe y’gonna let me have this for the rest of m’life.”

“I love you so so much,” She utters breathlessly as he continues to make her feel so fucking full - emotionally and physically, “Best husband ever, can’t believe it.”

Harry chuckles tenderly, “Baby, I need y’to come soon. I’m so close, never come this quick. The thought of y’being my wife is making it impossible to last then with the tatto-”

YN soothes his hair in understanding, pushing up to meet their lips and allow their tongues to dance as he lifts her thigh against his hip to thrust in with a bit more force. His thumb comes to her clit to spur her along which doesn’t take much with how aroused she’s been all day.

Harry follows right after, much to his embarrassment of his lack of stamina but can you blame him? He has the hottest fucking wife on the planet.

“Round two?” YN smirks as he leans down to pepper kisses all over her cheeks. She knows the night has just begun.

“Mmm,” He agrees instantly, “Now that we made love, m’gonna fuck y’from behind so I can watch my name jiggle on your arse.”

And that’s what he does. It takes nearly no rebound time, flips her on her belly again to gaze and worship his name as he fills out in no time again. His fingers occasionally dip back between her thighs to tease at her entrance before he swipes her own wetness on the tattoo to lick it off.

She’s tired, exhausted from the events of the day but wants to reach that last orgasm before sleep overtakes them.

On her hands and knees, Harry doesn’t pound into her like he normally would.

Instead, he eases back in with eyes darting between his wedding present and where they’re connecting, his thumb diligently rubbing hard and steady circle on her nerves.

“C’mon wifey, need y’to not be stubborn,” Harry goads, feeling his release coming again - he pinches her clit with just enough pressure that has her whining before Harry has to hold her up by the waist as she quivers.

It has him finishing right after with a gentle smack to her bumcheek, the skin already tender and sore from all of his attention on the spot as it was.

“I loved your vows,” YN murmurs against his chest. He had wrapped her up in one of the plush blankets and he had pulled on a tight pair of briefs and they were laying on a lounge chair on the blacony under the italian stars.

“I loved yours just as much, y’did crack the code m’love ‘cause now I’m yours forever,” Harry rumbles, his voice raspy with drowsiness.

Little did they know that in a few short years, they would be back under these italian stars with knowledge that they were growing a little product of their love in her belly.

A litte baby named Ivy, just like the beautiful, lucious nature that had decorated the place in magneificent as they spoke vows - dedicating their lives to each other.

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anashins · 3 years

Text

Another Kind of Blackmailing

Title: Another Kind of Blackmailing

Pairing: Ten x You

Genre: (slight dark) romance, smut, tsundere!ten, fluff in the end

Warnings: toxic behavior, loooong fingering session, protected sex

Word Count: 4.163

Summary: Ten has always been a shadow in your friend group - that is what you thought. But when he demands sex in order to keep his mouth shut for something you have done that might ruin lives, you learn that he loves to stand out between the sheets.

______

His smirk was sly, the corner of his lips tilted up, but not radiating happiness. He was wearing an expression of which you couldn’t tell whether he was kind or the polar opposite. His dark hair was cut at the sides, the part on the top framing his forehead and giving him a touch of innocence which was emphasized by the sparkles in his eyes - but he was far from innocent.

It was his smile. His smile told you otherwise and betrayed his kind eyes.

His name was Ten. You knew him, more or less.

He was the best friend of your friend’s boyfriend, and apart from just getting a glimpse at him every now and then when you guys went out together, you basically knew nothing about him.

Ten had been introduced to you when your friend Hana announced her relationship to his best friend one night you had been out together with the whole clique. It had been a solemn, nonchalant and fun evening at the bar, everyone joking and fooling around, yet it was always Ten who stood out – in a very peculiar way.

He was always there physically, but at the same time, his presence was hard to be noticed. He was like a shadow, following his friends everywhere, and like a shadow, he had also behaved. He hadn’t talked much, had never made conspicuous motions or any other acts that stood out.

Ten always stayed in the background, smooth, calm and quiet – it was always like he wasn’t there at all.

So he surprised you even more when he had suddenly appeared in front of your apartment. You both had been out with your friends the night before and spent the majority of the night in the club. It wasn’t even midday yet and you were still hungover, even after a long, hot shower. The unwanted visitor had happened to appear right before you were about to go back to bed and relax for the rest of the day.

You didn’t know what to expect from Ten’s sudden visit. You stared at him, in surprise and slight shock, because out of all people, you hadn’t expected him to ever look for you. You had never exchanged any words aside from plain hellos and goodbyes. The rest of the time, he was a shadow for you.

However, now that his intense gaze was meeting yours, accompanied by that sly smile, you had the feeling that you were actually facing the real Ten for the first time.

“What do you want?” you asked, your grip tightening around the door knob as every possible reason for his visit flashed through your mind, but none of them actually made sense.Why would a boy you didn’t know suddenly seek you out?

“Well,” he started, and you wondered how soothing his voice sounded. Had you ever heard him speaking properly before? “Won’t you already know by now why I’m here or do I need to jog your memory?”

He grinned at you as you frowned, shifting his position as he rummaged through the pocket of his jeans. Shortly after, he pulled out his phone and unlocked it.

It was the moment in which he began to grin even wider that made your heart almost stop, and like a lightning that shot through your body, you suddenly knew what he might know as well. It was almost ridiculous how this event had been erased from your memories so fast. Probably because to you, it didn’t matter at all because nobody had seen it.

Or so you had thought.

“What if your beloved best friend finds out that you kissed her boyfriend?” Ten asked as he stared at his display, that damn smirk still lingering on his lips, and you wondered whether it would ever vanish.

“Look,” you started in panic. This was not possible. You had thought you could easily brush it under the carpet and forget about the incident, but things apparently turned out to be so much more complicated with evidence in the form of a picture now. “I can explain this. It’s not like how it looked. Actually—“

“Ah!” Ten lifted a finger and waved it to the right and left as though he wanted to chide you. “He is my best friend as well, and I can’t watch how everything will go downhill in his relationship because of you.”

“But that’s not true!” you protested and almost stomped your feet on the ground.

This Ten guy was mischievous and cunning enough to just jump to conclusions with only a simple picture as evidence. He didn’t even know the story behind it! It really made you scared of what he was possibly capable of with the snapped photo.

“I don’t need your poor explanations,” he returned, now sounding more serious than before, and it made you freeze for a second.

You didn’t know this guy at all, yet he possibly held your future in his hands. He could make your best friend and clique leave you and ruin a relationship if he only said one false word. He could twist and turn the story to make you the one who had behaved wrongly, although it had been the other way around.

If he was going against you, for whatever reason he might have, your life would break apart. Inwardly, you cursed at Ten because you and his best friend had agreed on forgetting about the incident and letting it pass.

“Why? What do you want?” you pressed through gritted teeth.

-----

Ten’s lips were surprisingly soft and warm on your neck, not rough and demanding at all. Yet, your body was stiff under his ever since he had placed you onto the bed. You didn’t make a move, because you wanted to show him that you were still mad over this whole situation, but against your expectations, he had been utterly gentle with you.

And you started to like it.

With a certain mindfulness, he had undressed you, and although you hadn’t looked at him, keeping your sight stubbornly to the ceiling, you had felt his hands moving under your shirt and surprisingly, they were soft as well, lifting your shirt up and undressing you without making you feel uncomfortable, not even the slightest bit.

It felt odd to be touched by a guy you didn’t know that cautiously, even if you overlooked the part that he wanted your body as a reward to keep his mouth shut. Though, you couldn’t go against him since that picture could destroy so many people's lives.

Ten was an asshole, was the first thing you had thought when he dragged you to the bed, and you wouldn’t have agreed on it if you hadn’t had one night stands before which made it probably easier to accept - or was it the mere thought that he was utterly attractive as well that you couldn’t resist to get a little taste of him?

Yet, regardless of how much you promised yourself not to enjoy it, not to give in, you still had built a certain affection towards the situation, towards him.

For someone who had blackmailed you into having sex with him, Ten was gentler, more attentive, more careful. He hadn’t kissed you on the lips yet. Instead, he had removed your shirt and pants without any hectic, but with ease, cautious as to not touch you too roughly or on the wrong spots.

Ten was now pulling down your bra straps, sliding them along your shoulders as his fingertips moved over your skin like a feather which made you shiver slightly while he removed your bra. You closed your eyes for a moment as he went down on you and placed your legs carefully over his shoulder. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties and dragged the clothing down to have you fully undressed in front of him.

He took his time undressing you, and regardless of how strange the circumstances seemed, you grew comfortable with the way he treated you – not as an actual reward, a thing, but as someone to actually appreciate wholly.

When you opened your eyes, you were directly looking into his as his face was hovering above yours. It was then when you realized that he wasn’t a shadow in the back anymore, but someone who had now stepped out of the background and pulled you into his world where only the two of you existed.

His gaze wandered down for a moment and you couldn’t tell whether he was looking at a certain spot on your body or whether he was only thinking of something, but when he locked your gazes again, you could see a flash of insecurity on his cheeks in the color of rose.

You reached out your hands and wrapped them around his neck, pulling him a little closer so that the tips of your nose almost touched. It was strange that, besides the fact that this was all just a business, you grew a certain craving for what he was doing to you. Perhaps, you thought, perhaps this was not going to be so bad like you had imagined after all.

Ten himself was not like you had imagined, that was for sure. You had always ignored the shade, seeking for the sun, but now that he was enveloping you, there was no turning back. He was too intriguing.

“Kiss me,” you said, and as though Ten had only been waiting for your permission, he instantly locked your lips within a second.

It was not a passionate and heated kiss from the beginning, but a rather surprisingly mellow one with his warm lips on yours. You had imagined how they would feel on yours when he had caressed your neck, but the reality was so much more beautiful than your fantasies. His movements against your lips were slow and intensive, more chaste than lewd. As he deepened the kiss, he rolled his tongue with yours, passionate enough to make you crave for more.

You didn’t want him to stop – and he didn’t.

Where your hands had been on his neck before, you now tried to discover his body like a map, letting yourself get lost in the landscape. You trailed your hand over his shoulder, feeling every inch of his skin that was unexpectedly soft. His muscles flexed under your touches as you wandered with your hand down his upper arm, shifting it to his chest to let it rest there.

You could feel his heartbeat, fast and jumpy, and if he hadn’t been kissing you at this moment, you could have let out a chuckle. Was he nervous? For someone so cool and mischievous before, he was quite pantsy now.

But your last thought quickly vanished when he suddenly caused an intensive feeling to spread through your body that made you moan into his mouth shamelessly.

“Mhmm!”

You closed your eyes and grabbed onto his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin as you felt how his slender fingers glided further into you. He smiled against your lips as he parted from you. His movements inside you had made your breathing become irregular. All you could see was that mischievous smirk from before again, and you started to hate it once more, yet you didn’t want him to stop.

“More?” Ten whispered, his lips close to yours.

He slid his fingers in and out of you, slowly, to tease, then faster, to heat up things, your hot walls always welcoming him with a certain anticipation. Whenever he slowly pulled out, he expected you to make a sound in order for him to push them back in. Tit for tat.

“Yes,” you purred.

“More?” Ten repeated, his lips slightly brushing over your lobe and his voice seductively stroking your ear.

You bit your lip and nodded, telling him, “Yes, yes!” to emphasize that you truly meant it.

By now, you had already forgotten about the picture, about his reward – and apparently, he had too. As two of his slender fingers dipped back into you, you weren’t able to think of anything anymore but him. No shadow, no darkness, only pure delight.

You scratched his neck as he pushed his fingers further into your centre, causing you to gasp out of surprise and rapture. The only lifeline was his own body over yours as you held onto him, letting his movements make you drown in a sea of pleasure. He pumped his fingers in and out of you, sometimes so slow that it almost drove you mad and sometimes so fast that you thought you’d reach your peak very soon.

Ten’s expertise caused you to clench around his limbs, and it made you soaking wet with every move he conducted. You could also feel his own excitement increasing as he breathed irregularly against your ear, grinning in satisfaction as ragged moans escaped your lips.

“Aaaaahh!” you suddenly screamed loudly and opened your eyes widely as you grabbed firmer onto him.

He had found fun in playing with your clit, and you had brought your legs together over the sudden overstimulation on the sensitive bundle of nerves, but Ten reached down and spread you even wider for him.

“You said you wanted more,” he teased.

You turned your head aside and covered your mouth with your hands, muffling all the noises you were making as he played with your most sensitive spot. His thumb brushed over your clit, only lightly at first, increasing your anticipation for the former feeling even more. It was then when he started to pay special attention to that spot that you were having a hard time to hold back your moans.

He pressed his thumb on your mound, circling around the tip over and over again. He flicked your clit, caressed it with a certain pressure, and even used his other fingers to take it in between them and roll it tenderly to make the feeling of rapture more intense as you shamelessly spread even wider for him. With every motion, he had caused your orgasm to coil up in our groin.

As for now, you didn’t care whether your groans sounded shameful, you just let out every noise he caused you to make. You had grabbed the sheets to the left and right of you, entangling your hands in the fabric just because you thought you had to burst any time now.

And Ten loved it. He loved the shameless moans you let out, your suffering cries and your struggles to breathe. He loved how your body twitched and fidgeted under his touches, how he could make you so weak, and how you were obviously demanding for more.

Ten then pulled his other fingers out of you fully, leaving you as a whimpering mess, and you shouted out his name again, disappointed over the loss.

“Ten!”

His fingers were now sliding up and down your wet folds, dipping into your core every now and then just to pay attention to your clit again. He glided over your centre, along your folds, and teased your sensitive nub even more by stroking over it rather firmly, yet still tender. And with every stroke, he was almost triggering your orgasm to explode, yet he always withdrew again to pay attention to your folds.

Ten lowered his head and kissed your cleavage, and this act felt so intimate to you that you began to savor every touch of his lips on your skin. Without neglecting his work on your lower area, he kissed down to your breasts, caressing the thin and sensitive skin around your mound for a longer moment with long and warm kisses before he moved further to your peaks.

Taking your nipple in between his lips, he sucked on it and slid his tongue over your tip, making it more sensitive to his touches by covering it with his salvia. Withdrawing his mouth, he blew over the spot, letting you shiver slightly due to the coldness before he smirked and started to plant kisses on you again.

His free hand trailed up your bare side, wandering from your naked thigh carefully and affectionately up to your stomach, rested there for a while before he further traced to your other breast. He cupped it with delight and massaged it fondly with his hand.

There was a certain carefulness that came along with slight firmness which made you glory his touches and kisses so much. This was surely not about a reward anymore, but about two people who actually craved for one another and wanted to give in to the pleasure.

As Ten withdrew, you knew that he was going to go the whole way now, avoiding to let you cum in his hands and truthfully, you preferred to share this moment with him inside of you.

“Do you,” he began and you nodded.

“Nightstand.”

He took off his jeans and tossed it to the ground, rolling the condom over his length and then laid himself back on top of you. His face was right above yours, and you two were smiling at each other.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and turned your position so that he could easily place himself properly in between your legs, now feeling him against your center. Yet, Ten still waited for a little while, keeping your gazes locked, and you couldn’t see what was going through his mind, but you just wished for him not to stop.

And he didn’t.

He pushed into your core, slowly and deliberately, sliding into your hotness bit by bit while your wet walls were anticipating the moment he’d fill you out to the fullest. You closed your eyes for the moment and stroked the back of his neck, feeling every inch of him gliding into you further and further.

When he was fully inside you, he didn’t start to thrust directly. Instead, he leaned in and kissed your lips once again. And once again, you were surprised by how attentive he was, not wanting your body only, but also wanting you to feel good.

His moves were deliberate, and although he had started off slow and sensual, the gentleness was now mixed with firmness and strength. You could only break the kiss to breathe for air and catch your breath when he pumped in and out of you in a steady rhythm.

“Please, don’t stop,” you pleaded, and with a pleasant grin, Ten nodded and leaned in to caress your neck, planting hot, wet kisses on your sides as the slight moans you let out reached his ear like a melody he grew to love even more with every tone.

His thighs slid along yours while he had his arms propped on either side of your head for support. His skin brushed over yours when he pushed out just to slip into your hotness again, your wet walls clenching around his length with every thrust that he conducted. And the stronger he went on, the more you were pushed back into the mattress, the sheets already wet and soaked from the act.

You wrapped your legs around his middle, letting out a pleased “Aaaahhh…” as you felt him a little deeper and a little more intense than before, hitting the right spots in this angle. Your fingers dug into the skin of his back as Ten rocked both of your bodies rhythmically, pushing you forward with every thrust.

It was to both of your liking, and you wondered how perfectly your bodies matched, how you didn’t need to go through a certain state of awkwardness to find the right rhythm and how everything had gone so smoothly from the very start.

As Ten’s thrusts turned a bit sloppier and his movements a bit faster, you could feel that he was close, and so were you. He reached out to grab the headboard, his forehead glistening with sweat as he hovered over you. When you shifted your position a little, you spread your thighs a little further and lifted your bum a little higher.

And then you let out a cry of pleasure as another thrust triggered your climax. You could still feel him moving inside you, his lower body sliding against yours and his burning kisses on your skin, but everything turned into a blur as your orgasm hit, making you lightheaded and causing you to experience the most blissful feeling in the world. You let out a long moan, rolled your head back and held onto him as the waves of pleasure almost washed your senses away.

Your body shuddered under his as you slowly tried to catch your breath, your legs giving in and nearly falling apart, yet you didn’t let go of Ten. His upper body parted from yours and he held his head low as he gave you another long thrust, burying himself deep inside of you and reaching his climax with a groan.

He fell limply on top of you right after, your chests heaving on top of each other as you tried to catch your breaths.

“There is no picture,” Ten then blurted out as he rolled off of you, leaving you in a surprise by this sudden confession.

“What?” you asked bluntly, not really comprehending what he had just said.

Unexpectedly, he pulled you on his chest, laid your head in the spot between his arm and neck, and dragged the blanket over you two to cover your bodies.

“There is no picture,” he repeated, insecurity swaying in his tone as he stared at the ceiling. “There has never been one. I watched you both from the very beginning. I knew that it hadn’t been your fault that he went outside shortly after you did, and I also knew that he had mistaken you for your best friend since your hairstyle is the same. The darkness only added to the confusion. Not to mention that he was a little bit more drunk than he should have been. I knew that it was only a short peck in confusion and that you scolded him right afterwards.”

As for now, you didn’t really care about the story behind this bluff, because everything he had said was true. There was nothing you needed to clear up anymore, but there was another thing that made you think ever since he had mentioned it. You got up and supported your position with your elbow on the mattress as you leaned in to him.

“You knew all this time?” you asked perplexed, but rather surprised than angry. “You have followed me?”

As Ten turned his face to you, you could finally see his slightly flushed cheeks. It was only a light shade of pink, but it was there and suddenly, you smiled.

“To confess… I have been following you all this time,” he explained with a shyer voice. “My eyes were always on you whereas you never seemed to notice me. I’ve never had the guts to approach you for a decent conversation apart from hellos and goodbyes. When you went outside all by yourself last night, I thought I could finally gather enough courage to talk to you. But I saw you with him and I got mad, I guess.”

So, this was it. He had always been a shadow in the background, but he had always been your shadow, following you with his eyes silently, but with much affection – whereas it had been you who had shut him out from everything, but mostly, from your own attention.

Behind the façade, Ten was only a shy guy who was probably awkward with people, a bit insecure and too shy to approach a girl that he liked. Behind that façade, Ten had been jealous that someone else could have taken interest in the girl he had laid his eyes on. His jealousy and madness had led him to act on his feelings - childish and catty as he had gone overboard with blackmailing you.

But Ten had never treated you wrongly.

His tenderness and carefulness had constantly proven to you that you could have stopped whenever you wanted him to, he had always been waiting for your own responses to his acts, never demanding too much.

Behind the mischievous smile, there was only a shy boy who wanted to get to know the girl he liked.

“Hey Ten,” you started after a while, and now it was you who wore that sly grin, “do you like me?”

And now, the redness coloring his cheeks couldn’t be missed that easily anymore. It was enough of an answer for you. With a laugh, you laid yourself beside him again, and with pleasure, he wrapped his arm around your middle and pulled you a little closer.

“How about a date later?” he muttered after a moment while he played with some strands of your hair.

With a smile, you answered happily, “That would be great.”

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1ddiscourseoftheday · 3 years

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Wed 7 Apr ‘21

Louis left Tulum and went to Mexico City, and we got airport pics from both ends: the gathered fans were told by his bodyguard that they should keep their distance but that yes, pictures would be allowed. Thank you Louis! We got to see him a little for the first time in so long, in videos of him walking by (and getting ready to walk by) and blurry pics of him with his guitar, and Oli and Charlie- I’m excited to someday see the footage of whatever they’re working on. But for now, finally some proper pictures of the long long hair, or at least the below the hat part, all flippy and like...LONG! It’s on his SHOULDERS! Early pics had some interesting shadows around an elbow, prompting a flurry of NeW TaTtoO?? excitement, but when more pics were posted we could see that no, his elbow remains the same, false alarm. Once that tattoo kerfuffle died down the interest refocused on his shirt, which featured- a whole damn pile of skulls!

Louis went through a long phase of wearing skull shirts a while back, and the fact that it was during a period of a lot of very pointed t-shirt messages (and that he kept doing it more than ever despite knowing what we were reading into it) seemed to reinforce the theory that he did in fact mean things by it, and seeing him say yes to fan photos while wearing this shirt for the occasion… well! WELCOME BACK public Louis, we MISSED YOU! Yesterday’s shirt was for the band Obituary- is the band name a nod at the fact that Syco, generally considered to be the main target of previous skull shirts, is now dead and gone (rest in pieces assholes:))? Is Louis drawing attention to the livestream that band did a few days ago for their album ‘The End Complete’, and if so, is that also about Syco or about… something else? Inconclusive, but if we were meant to find their song “End It Now”, that can truly only be about one thing!! Am I to believe that SBB himself, Mr “I like to draw the fans’ attention to the lyrics of things” just, whoopsy, missed that! I mean, you would think every band on earth has lyrics about “ending it“ with the number of times he’s made that mistake, damn… he just never learns. Poor Louis, gosh how embarrassing! Lol. Anyway, I’ve seen people wondering lately what will happen when all the fans that have joined us in this time of lockdown and of no real contact with Louis will react when their version of Louis has to compete with the real one- and him barely being back at all but immediately reminding people that he is not a dad FFS feels like an excellent beginning, this should be good! BUCKLE IN friends! The real Louis is sooo much more fun than the boring made up one, just get ready to enjoy the chaotic energy and trying to keep up with him….

Oh also Louis liked a Snuts tweet about being underdogs as they fight to get the release week UK #1 for their new album, and a charity says they reached out to Louis AND LOTTIE to play in their celeb footie match PLEASE, HOW CUTE WOULD THAT BE? Come on Tomlinsons, say yes!

Liam has a big interview in Glamour to promote his BAFTAS performance! If *I* were doing the piece I would have really gone hard on the Two Liams angle of the performance (in which Liam will be accompanied by a hologram of himself) but alas they are boring and only interviewed one of him- maybe the part where he says “you're on stage, you're a certain type of person, and at home you're a certain type of person” sort of counts? The “that's always something I've really struggled with” makes it not so fun though, but that’s a Liam interview for ya; worrisome and makes you want to hug him a lot. “I didn't actually realize this for a long time, but I often give a little bit too much away,“ he says, and today is no exception. We catch up on the time since last we heard from him, when he told us he was going to take some well-earned time off and try to focus on writing new music; he continues to have difficulty with downtime unfortunately. Oh Liam, I do wish it were easier for you to take a break! He says, “I stopped working and I had a full, proper month off [and that was] really hard. And it was all a bit dark for me for a little bit... not being able to go anywhere, not being able to do anything. It really, really hit home. And I just found myself sat in the same place day in, day out. And I was like, okay, I really do not know what to do with myself” and “for me, learning to relax has always been quite a hard thing to do because I feel like if I'm not moving forward, then I must be going backwards.” He goes on to say “so, in a way it's kind of a blessing in disguise, as this has all kind of taught me to relax a little bit more. And to not be so worried about that, like the world is not going to fall over if I don't do something today,” and I wish I believed him, but that’s Liam’s way, to be like oh I need to add something upbeat and end on a cheerful note! So IDK. He also talks about drinking too much, at the beginning of lockdown especially, and how he’s dealt with it by getting back to working out and dieting. There’s nothing there that he hasn’t talked about before (he’s publicly addressed both his struggles with alcohol dependency and has talked a lot about his disordered eating though he hasn’t himself named it that) but after publication Glamour edited the piece to omit the part about his drinking-- I’m guessing the augmented reality app people didn’t feel it fit their ideal image (sigh). What that leaves is him saying how nice it was to be able to eat what he wanted during lockdown but that having the boundaries and rules in place of restricting his food again has made him feel better about himself, which if you ask me is still plenty distressing. Oh Liam :( <I’ve never wanted to hug someone so bad/ Spongebob meme> On a slightly more cheerful note, he tells us he feels supported and heard by a manager that he’s close to, and by Louis, and that those relationships are good for him (the interviewer does ask about Bear, but financee Maya is not mentioned even once in this article). The piece ends with a startling response to a comment about his upcoming performance: “I'll see you wherever you want me in your house, I guess.”

Niall posted about his Masters (golf) fantasy league and he was seen out and about! He was photographed in London driving a car the size of a house and on the street carrying one of his dozens of different reusable water bottles, with his hair floppy and down- is it a new haircut or just unstyled??- and shorts and little roundish shades. Hello Neil! There was a rumored sighting of Harry in London as well but no pics and like we know he’s there anyway so… shrug. And iHeart award nominations are up, and they’re pitting louies against harries, ouch. Will it be nasty (well when isn’t it even without this voted category, sigh), or will the louies simply steamroller everyone as per usual? Only time will tell, but if so harries can console themselves with their likely wins in the Male Artist of the Year, Best Lyrics (Adore You), and Song of the Year (WS) categories.

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corpsedaydream · 4 years

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paint wars part 2

OKAY HERE IT IS! PART TWO TO PAINT WARS

if u haven’t read part one, i’ll link it right here

word count: 3k (yikes it’s a long one)

_______________________________

paint wars part 2

Things had been rough lately.

Real fucking rough.

You missed Corpse so much. You hadn’t spoken to each other since that fight at his apartment and that was fifty-four days ago now, almost two thirds of a season you’d been without him.

“I miss you.” You spoke aloud into the emptiness of your apartment, noting that the time on your phone now said 12:01am. It was officially now day fifty-five without speaking to him.

You swiped away all your notifications on your lock screen, ignoring everything and everyone that was trying to reach you right now so you could look at the person who was ignoring you. You wanted to look at the photo that was still your wallpaper. That first photo you’d ever taken together.

You went to change it on day thirty-eight of not speaking. On night thirty-seven of not speaking you’d gone out with your friends, they’d finally convinced you after a whole month of trying and you got absolutely wasted. So of course you’d called Corpse. But he didn’t answer, not any of the fifteen times you’d called. So that next morning, when you woke up hungover and saw that same lock screen photo and not one response from him, you told yourself you were going to change it. You tried to tell yourself you were angry, but it was just a coping mechanism to ignore the hurt that had been tunnelling through your heart since being without him. You spent an hour scouring tumblr and twitter for some aesthetically pleasing lock screen, but you didn’t save a single one. Nothing could compare to that photo of you and Corpse.

You then started to wonder if he’d listened to any of the voicemails you’d left the night before. You couldn’t remember them exactly, but you knew you definitely left four of them and how badly you wanted to know if the curiosity became too much to bear and he’d listened to them.

And he had.

On night thirty-seven, while you were out drinking, Corpse was in a deep sleep. He hadn’t been sleeping a whole lot lately, so finally, he’d crashed hard that night and slept through the calls you’d made to him. But even though he wasn’t aware of the calls in his sleeping state, you were still present in his dreamland. Every adventure his brain took him on was with you, maybe it was something that kept him asleep, the fact that you were right there in this fantasy. You were talking to him again, he could see your smile, hear your laugh, reach out and grab your hand, he could kiss you again. It was happiness. But then he woke up and he went to reach out for you in his bed, still caught up in the false wonder his dreams had provided him, only to find it was just him and reality slapped him fully awake. You weren’t there with him. You hadn’t been for a number of weeks. He missed you.

On day thirty-eight, when he spotted the missed calls from you on his phone, he cursed himself for being asleep and missing it. But would he had answered had he been awake? He wasn’t sure. So instead, he heard you speak to him for the first time in so long, even if it was through a voicemail you had left in the space of him not answering your calls.

“Oh, fuck- oh my god.”

That was it. That was the first voicemail, there was a lot of background noise but he had heard you so clearly. In your drunken state, you didn’t know what to say, so that’s what you had left with him, until you called back and left another.

"Hi.” You started it simple. He had the phone clutched so tightly in his hand, the device pressed so firmly against his ear, he didn’t want to miss a word. “I- I don’know what to say.” He noticed the slight slur to your words then, you were drunk when you had called. “I’m’a just go.”

You hung up again, but alas, there was another.

“Can I just ask... are you ignoring me?” Your voice was so meek, his chest hurt at the sound of it. He almost went to say no, but this was a one sided conversation, he’d missed the opportunity. “I miss you.” You hung up again, and he had to stop himself from replaying it over and over again to hear you say that you missed him.

But there was one last voice mail.

“I should stop calling, huh?” You sighed and he could picture you with a sad pout, your eyes all droopy with a mix emotion and alcohol. “But, I just want’a talk to you.” You confessed, then he heard another voice call your name in the background before they spoke to you and he listened. “(Y/N)! Here you are, what are you doing? That guys wondering where you are, he’s fucking hot-”

Corpse hung up then, he didn’t want to hear anymore. Jealousy was surging through him as the unwanted images of you with someone else plagued his mind and he threw his phone across his room. Wishing he hadn’t of started listening to those fucking voicemails.

What he didn’t know, though, is how the rest of that last voicemail went.

“I really don’t care.” You’d told your friend at the mention of the guy. Yeah, he was attractive and he was buying you drinks, but you wanted no one except Corpse. “Give me a sec.” You’d told your friend before walking away again, bringing your phone back to your ear to talk to the only person you wanted to talk to right now, even if he wasn’t on the other end of that call. “I hope you didn’t hear that, but if you did, don’t worry it. I’m g’na go home now.” You sighed and looked up at the night sky, there was no shooting star, or really any stars at all because of the light pollution from where you currently were, but you were still wishing that by some magic happenstance, Corpse would pick up his phone and speak to you again. “I wish I was going to yours.”

On day thirty-nine you cried so hard. You thought you had made it past this violently sobbing stage, this was exact state you’d cried yourself to sleep to each night for the first few weeks. Your heart was in so much pain, it was torn apart and you swore only one person had the power to stitch it back together, but he wasn’t there. You hadn’t heard a single thing from him. Were you two still together? Had you broken up? You weren’t even sure. But on day thirty-nine you cried that hard again because Corpse hadn’t responded at all to your calls or voicemails, so you convinced yourself he truly wanted nothing to do with you.

You’d been avoiding searching his name on social media, knowing it would send you into a spiral and you’d overthink every little thing but on day forty-two you’d noticed on twitter that he was playing games live. He wasn’t live himself, but you watched someone’s stream just to hear him again. You cried again doing this, because he was being exceptionally quiet, he wasn’t his normal self, he barely laughed once.

You wished you hadn’t clicked on it. The guilt you felt was already immense, but hearing him so not like himself made you feel even worse for causing all of this. You stopped watching, you couldn’t bear it. You knew you were to blame for all of this, you pushed him too far, you couldn’t believe how stupidly you had acted, you knew better and you did it anyway. The self attacking thoughts kept swirling your mind until you gave yourself a headache.

On day fifty-six of still not talking to each other, you ventured out to the beach with just your best friend. She’d been there for you a lot lately, she also felt bad about that night, but you tried to assured her it was your own fault. She didn’t know Corpse like you did, she didn’t know him at all, that’s why you felt to blame for not stopping the idea before it was too late.

“You should put sunscreen on.” Your best friend told you. You were laying on your towel in the direct sun, enjoying the warmth blasting into your skin, you hadn’t been to the beach in such a long time.

“Yeah.” You answered her, but you knew you weren’t going to. Another time, you would have, you knew the familiar sting of sunburn well and you normally put it on to look after your skin, but you hadn’t really been taking care of yourself too well lately, you just didn’t care enough.

On night fifty-six, you stood in front of your bathroom mirror looking over your body. You’d spent a lot longer at the beach than you realised and now you were burnt so badly and as red as a tomato. “Fuck.” You said out loud, turning and looking over your shoulder to inspect your back, it was just as red. You should’ve worn sunscreen. You left your bathroom to go find your aloe vera plant, only to find that it was dead. “Fuck!” You repeated, the one hope you had to help heal your skin even slightly quickly vanishing. “Oh, fuck. What am I going to do?”

That’s how you found yourself heading towards a 24 hour store to purchase whatever aloe vera cream or gel you could find, you knew it wouldn’t be as good as the plant itself, but you needed something. It was late and you were anxious as you neared the shop, you knew about this place from Corpse, he would often go there at odd hours to get whatever he needed. It was close to his place and you hadn’t driven around this area since that disaster of a night.

You squinted your eyes as you walked in and the harsh fluorescent lights pierced into your eyes after walking in from the night time. You were walking quickly and you told yourself it was because you were embarrassed about your skin being so burnt and you didn’t want anyone to see you like this, but it was really because you were so anxious over the thought of who you could potentially run into in this shop. Your swift steps brought you to the skin care isle and you let your eyes scan the shelves for the aloe vera you so desperately sought out.

“(Y/N)?”

You froze completely and you swore you even felt your heart stop beating. Hearing his voice speak your name again felt like lighting had struck right through you. This couldn’t be real, this had to be your imagination playing some sort of sick joke on you. Slowly, you turned towards the direction his voice had come from and sure enough, there he was. Dressed in all black, a beanie on his head and a mask over the bottom half of his face, your eyes locked with his. There was a pull in your chest, your heart had heard him, too and it wanted so badly to be with him, to be healed by him. You had thought up this scenario a million times over these past fifty-six days, of what would happen had you and him had a run in like this and in every single one you had so much to say, but right now, you were speechless.

Before you had a chance to even try to say anything if you managed to stop being stuck in silence, Corpse spoke again.

“Fucking hell,” He neared you and you sucked in a quick breath at his sudden movement. “Look how burnt you are.” You were wearing tights and an oversized hoodie, so your entire body was covered, but your face was just as burnt and clearly he had noticed.

This was another aspect that didn’t fit into your scenarios you’d thought up about this moment. You’d imagined you would’ve look amazing. But instead of looking like some beautiful mermaid, you were the same colour as Ariel’s hair from The Little Mermaid. “I know, don’t look at me.” You huffed and dropped your head down, letting your beach waved hair fall around your face.

“You didn’t wear sunscreen?”

“Obviously not.”

“That was silly.”

“I know.”

“Are you sore?”

“Yeah.” It felt so natural to have this back and forth with him. It was brief, but it was enough for your heart to kick back into gear and speed up.

He stayed silent for a prolonged moment so you looked back to his face and his eyes were on your face but it was his turn to glance away then and you took the opportunity to really soak in his side profile. You’d even missed just being able to look at him.

“Why are you here?” He asked you.

“I need aloe vera and I knew this place would be open.”

“You’re not using your plant?” Butterflies fluttered inside of you that he remembered a simple mundane fact that you preferred the healing touch of the actual plant for sunburn as opposed to what was bought at a store in a bottle.

“It died.”

Corpse suddenly looked back to you and much to your surprise, he laughed.

“Why are you laughing?!”

“How do you kill a succulent?”

“You know I’m not good at gardening and shit like that.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d be able to kill a succulent.” He laughed harder and you started to smile, he was teasing you but it felt so right. And hearing his laughter filled you with a warmth you’d been missing.

“Shut up.” You told him, but you were beginning to laugh too. “It’s hard to keep plants alive.”

“(Y/N), succulents are pretty much impossible to kill.”

“Okay, I get it, I didn’t purposely murder my aloe vera plant.”

“Oh, baby.” The pet name slipped so easily from his lips but it caught you both off guard, so the both of you stopped laughing and your postures stiffened.

Briefly, your eyes met but each of you darted your vision elsewhere. However, neither of you made no effort to move away from one another.

“Sorry.” Corpse said softly.

“It’s okay.” And it was, so okay. You wanted to tell him that hearing him call you baby was all you’d been wanting to hear again over these almost fifty-seven days without him. “I should really get this aloe vera gel on me, though.” You really didn’t want to leave him, but you couldn’t stand in this store forever.

“Are you sunburnt all over?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You sighed

And just as instinctively as the pet name had slipped out, his hands started to move towards the sleeve of your jumper. But he stopped himself when you flinched slightly and he quickly realised what he was doing. “Sorry, can I see?”

“I mean, you can, but I don’t want you to do it because it does really fucking hurt. That’s why I jumped, not because I don’t want you to touch me.” You answered him quickly. “I do want you to touch me- wait, I mean, no.” If your face wasn’t already red from the sunburn, it would have become red then from the blush you could feel forming. And if your skin wasn’t in pain you would have facepalmed yourself. “Sorry.” You apologised then.

“It’s okay.”

Shaking your head, you began to gently slide the sleeve of your big hoodie up.

“Fuck, (Y/N).” Corpse cursed, concern filling him as your skin was practically glowing from the burn it had copped. “You can’t do that to yourself.”

“I know.”

“How long were you at the beach?”

“All day pretty much.”

“You’re that burnt all over?”

“Yeah, I mean, some spots are worse. I think my back and shoulders are probably the worst. They hurt the most.”

He moved to step around you then, disappearing out of your sight as he was now standing behind you. “Can I?”

“Yeah, just be careful.”

And he made sure to keep his movements cautious, he decided on looking from the top, his hands grabbing the neck on the back of your hoodie to pull it back ever so gently so he could inspect. His eyes widened in a combination horror, worry and sympathy. He’d seen you get sunburnt before, but never to this extent. “Oh my fucking god.” The contrast between where the strap of your togs sat over your shoulder, blocking a sliver of your skin from the sun to keep it its natural colour versus the red that was brought from the burn was insane. “It looks like someone has painted you.”

“I mean, I guess the sun did. Just in a really painful way.”

“You’re not planning on going to the beach anytime soon, right?” Corpse carefully released your hoodie then and stepped in front of you once more. Distress was so present on his face, despite most of it being covered. He was so worried about you in this moment.

“Definitely not. The only thing I’m planning on is not going outside in any sunlight until my skin is healed.”

“Living like me.”

“Guess so.”

“My aloe vera plant is alive.” He stated.

“Wow, you’re really just going to flex that right now? Trying to kick me while I’m down.” You joked back, assuming he was teasing you.

“No, I mean...” He trailed off, his eyes struggling to stay on yours as he continued. “You could come over and use it, I know you like the real stuff better and I could help do your back, or wherever you can’t reach.” He was nervous, but he really didn’t have to be.

You could feel it happening, your heart beginning to heal.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Do you want to?”

“Yeah.”

#corpse #corpse husband #corpse x reader #corpse husband fanfiction #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband x reader #writing #mine

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chilly-me-softly · 3 years

Note

Can you do a DCL blurb? You see each other for the first time a few months after a brutal break up that was because you accused him of having no time for you and him denying it but now he misses you and regrets not treating you right. He's pretty passionate about getting you back and you've got your walls built high so its a bit of a run and chase and at the end you both make up. Thx

Dom sighs as he looks around the house that is so quiet except for the sound of the rain that has been falling incessantly since that morning. He took a shower after returning from training, grabbed something to eat and plopped down on the couch, shuddering at the thought of going outside to pass the time and maybe get wet again. He literally plays under the worst weather conditions most of the time, yet when it wasn't those ninety minutes everything was less bearable.

Usually on days like that he stayed in the house exactly as he was doing, but in addition he had you. You were there to fill his day and his mind. Even just being quiet was fine as long as he could hold you in his arms. And now he hates those days because they make him think. How he managed to ruin everything and, more importantly, how he didn't notice.

It was a period full of work, after a run of games more than positive he had managed to get a permanent place in the first eleven and was willing to work hard every single day to make the coach understand that that place had always been his. Goals flew in and out and everyone seemed to have discovered what a great talent he was.

He was the first to arrive and the last to leave, always asking the coaches what he could do to improve or his teammates to do some extra training sessions. The call to the senior national team was his next goal.

Everything was going well, it was the best time of his life until that moment. And then came the cold shower. Suddenly he had you in his house telling him that he could no longer go on like that, that you were no longer a priority for him and that you were no longer willing to feel like a spare wheel put there only when he remembered.

In the beginning he didn't want to see the reality, he thought he could juggle his career and your relationship. You had never made a big deal of it before, never even hinted at it, and he thought you just needed some time to get used to the new attention that was inevitably affecting you too. But this had not been the case.

You hadn't met since your break up - you'd only sent him a text congratulating him on his call-up to the national team - not until the day before. But that's not why he's thinking about you. Seeing you again suddenly made him realise what he had been missing in those months, what was that sense of incompleteness he felt in everything he did. It was you.

And he could see it now, how he had put himself and his career first, taking for granted that you would always support him. All the times your eyes had turned off but you kept smiling so he wouldn't see that you were disappointed when he cancelled your plans yet again. You'd always been right and he'd probably blown the best thing he'd had outside of football because he hadn't been able to figure out what he had in his hands.

Was it too late to fix things? Had you already moved on with someone else? Were you also spending hours looking at his pictures on Instagram or your photos in the gallery? Would you have wanted to talk to him? The rain showed no sign of wanting to stop, Dominic's mind kept adding questions with every passing minute creating false scenarios just for the sake of torturing him.

Making things right with you would be his next goal, he had decided at that moment. Because when he set his mind to something he would do anything to get it done and you were definitely worth it. And when he had you back by his side, because he would, he would never stop showing you how much he cared about you. He wouldn't have made the same mistake twice. He just had to be able to talk to you first.

"Hi. Can we talk?" he had shown up in front of your house unannounced, determined to at least take the first step for the day. Before his mind could somehow lead him to think that maybe you could be better off without him, that his train had passed, and that you were now happy with someone else.

Finally after what seems like hours, you step aside to let him in and stepping inside a sense of nostalgia makes its way inside him. There's no longer your picture at the front door, the one that always made him crack a smile as soon as he saw it and he's a little afraid to find out what other changes you've made in your life in such a short time.

"I have an appointment in a while so if you could get straight to the point..."

"With a guy?" he can't help himself, and your raised eyebrow tells him that there is a response coming that he won't like.

"None of your business" you reply in fact quite coldly crossing your arms over your chest and assuming your classic defensive posture.

"Sorry" Dom lowers his gaze for a moment, only bringing it back to you as you sigh. "What did you come here for Dom?"

"I just want to talk"

"About what?" you scratch an eyebrow in confusion.

"I figured out what went wrong between us, what I did wrong to lose you"

"Dominic"

"No" he interrupts whatever you were about to say, "please (Y/N), let me talk" you remain silent and he takes it as a sign to continue.

"It took me a while but I understood what you said that day, about how I was only thinking about training and how I gradually left you behind more and more" he studies you for a moment, taking a deep breath. "I didn't want to see it, I couldn't... I really thought I had it all in that moment. But yours was a wake up call, because I didn't really have anything. And if I had kept this up I would not only have lost you, but most likely everything else as well"

"I'm glad this story helped you" you reply not wanting to give him any satisfaction and not letting your guard down for a moment.

"I want to fight, to improve myself and for both of us" for the first time Dominic takes a step towards you and you hold out an arm forward to stop him. He kind of expected it but it still hurts.

"It's not with two words that you're going to fix this"

"I know, I know I've screwed everything up badly. But I really want to make things right between us. So just in case what's coming up is a date with a guy... well don't get too attached" he winks at you before deciding to leave, that's enough for a first time. He needs to take you gradually or he'll never get those walls down.

Anywone wants a part 2? I think I didn’t fulfill my task here but it was getting too long 🙈

Part 2

#thank you #dominic calvert lewin #dominic calvert lewin blurb

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3mmafr0st · 4 years

Text

Remember Me - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 3.5k (This is the longest thing I’ve ever written in one siting I think

Next Part->

Warnings: SMUT and everything that comes with it, Talk of death and murder, violence, guns, brainwashing

A/N: I had a really good time writing this so if you want this to be a series then say so because I will! Also I had to manually space this whole thing so sorry if the format is kinda weird

I hated that chair. It made me forget things, made me forget him. It never worked completely, I fought too hard, fought to remember him. Our last mission was one that I would fight the hardest I ever have to remember.

The minute I walked through the threshold, I saw him. If the black muzzle-like mask identical to mine, and the darkness in his eyes wasn't enough, then the silvery left arm with a familiar red star on the shoulder similar to the one on my knee sealed the deal. My body immediately relaxed the moment I saw him, but I didn’t know why. I wracked my brain for answers to the question. What was his name? Sadly, yet another thing that I couldn’t remember. Then again, I couldn't remember my own name, never mind someone else's. He looked me in the eyes and I could feel something in his stare, but I didn’t dwell on it, instead sitting myself down next to him to prepare myself for the briefing.

The two of us settled into our hotel room. The room was nice, the standard one bedroom with a bathroom connected and an attached balcony. The balcony overlooked the street, across from a well known cafe that the target frequented. The two of us were meant to stay at the hotel until one of us got the shot, and by one of us, they meant Soldat. We weren’t told who the target was, just a face and location. I didn't know why they sent me on this mission. I did have the eyes of a hawk, which might have been why, but I had no experience with long distance killing. He, Soldat, was the expert. The two of us sat on the balcony, as he fiddled with the gun, making sure that it was just the way he wanted it. I watched the cafe, searching for the target. The two of us sat like that for a while, I was his eyes, but he was my trigger, in more than one way. Every time my eyes would drift over to him, a memory resurfaced, another mission that we were on in the past, or fleeting moments that I didn’t quite understand. It wasn't much at all, but it was something. He surprised me when he talked first.

“How much do you remember?” I quickly checked my person and the area around me. “Don’t worry, I've already scanned the area for bugs.”

“I have bits and pieces of old missions, but that’s it, nothing solid.: I had thought about lying, telling him that I didn't remember anything to save face, but the minute I looked into his eyes, I just knew I couldn't keep anything from him. I didn't know why, but just looking at him made me want to tell every single thing about me. “What about you?”

“Maybe it's because they’ve been doing it for so long that I’ve built up a tolerance or something like that, but the last few times it's gotten weaker and weaker.” I felt something, some sort of feeling that sat in my heart that I didn’t quite understand.

“Do you want to talk about it? If you don't, I get it, but then again it's not like we have anything else to do for a while.” He took a second to gather his thoughts, longer than expected. It worried me, what happened?“It was a reconnaissance mission, the two of us were sent as a couple, two oil tycoons that had shady business dealings. The middle gets fuzzy, but I remember something happened between us and that’s why we were sent to the chair, for extra conditioning.” What the hell did ‘something’ mean? I felt my heart race, my stomach twisting in knots. This was going to be a tough mission.

It had been 4 long and strenuous days, with a regular schedule of waking up an hour before the cafe opened, and then staking out together on the balcony until closing, when we finally got to do what we wanted like eating and sleeping.

The heat of his body had become familiar to me in the past few days. I always woke up first, his arm always slung over me, having done it in his sleep, and every morning I would move the arm and get myself ready before he would wake up.

The two of us met up on the balcony as the cafe opened, and that's when I spotted him, the target. I looked down at the photo to double check, and there was no doubt in my mind that it was him. I tapped Soldat’s knee with my metal one and pointed to the target on the ground.

“He’s here,” I whispered. Once he got a clear view of the target, I heard two almost silent puffs of air, and the man fell to the ground, dead. Although the man sitting beside me intrigued me to no end, he was terrifying at the same time. The fact that I knew the second shot was only a precautionary measure and the fact that both of us could kill each other if we tried hard enough was enough of an idea to scare the hell out of me for some reason. At the same time though, it was sort of invigorating, to have someone who gets it, who understands what I’ve been through.

“I’m going to take a shower,” He said gruffly, and quickly packed up the gun and headed off to the bathroom. I sighed, disappointed that he was in that much of a hurry to leave me. I looked out onto the chaos that was happening. The “police” had arrived, but in reality, they were false officers, agents of Hydra sent to differ and obscure the investigation like normal. The man laced dead on the pavement, and I couldn’t help but let my mind wander, who was this man, was he a good person, or bad? Did he have a family? The thoughts pushed me even deeper. Who were we anyway? When were either of us born, what are our names, do we have families?

It was all too much to bear at that moment, so I decided the best course of action would be to get in some comfortable clothes, namely the large tee shirt that was given to me as pajamas, and relax. I slid the glass door open, the cold and dry processed air of the hotel room hit me. I pulled the shirt out of my bag and changed into just the shirt and panties. I flooded onto the bed as hard as I could, metal hitting against the wood of the bed. It was so comfortable for the time that I was alone. I spread myself out on the bed, rolling around in the blankets and for a brief moment, just enjoyed myself. The feeling of cotton sheets against my leg made me smile contently, the cool of the metal contrasting with the warmth of the bed. The whole thing made me feel like I was off in another world, the life I would have had without Hydra.

Maybe I really was in my own world, because as I rolled to lay flat on my back, and opened my eyes there he was. He simply stood at the door of the bathroom, only a towel around his body, looking at me with a masked expression, hiding any reactions he might have had. I immediately sat upright on the side of the bed, a blush starting to creep up over my face.

“You know, if I was an enemy combatant, you would be dead right now.” His face didn’t change, but he took a step closer to me, making me want to look down. It wasn’t just the fact that he had caught me in such a vulnerable position state, it was his too. Throughout the entire mission, and any mission that I had glimpses of, he had always stayed as dressed as possible, never even taking his shirt off before bed. I could see every muscle across the wide expanse of his chest all the way down to where his hips began to create a v-shape. The sight was almost mouthwatering and I honestly didn’t know how to handle the sight. He was a good spy, he could tell that I was clearly uncomfortable. I stared harder at the ground from my seat on the side of the bed, as he stepped even further towards me, settling right in front of me.

“What’s wrong, you’re upset?” He’s slightly confused but I still hid from his gaze. I felt his hand underneath my jaw, tilting my chin up so I was forced to look up at him.

The moment his skin hit mine, images, events began to flood my brain, his smile, the two of us together laughing, our hands intertwined. His hand moved back in shock, and stepped back a little. At that moment I knew that the same thing had happened to him.

“Did you just remember too?” I nodded, and he sat down on the bed next to me, trying to process.“What did you see?”

“The two of us, old missions, I don’t quite understand” My voice caught in my throat as an idea hit me. It was a bit of a long shot, but maybe, just maybe, it could work. “What if we’re triggering each other?”

“That makes sense, but why?”

“Maybe if we do more, we’ll find out.” My voice wavered, worried that he wouldn’t agree, that he would reject the idea immediately. Instead, he simply said nothing, looking at me intensely. Slowly, his hand cupped my cheek, his eyes scanning mine for any hint of regret or hesitation. Tentatively, he leaned in, my eyes fluttering closed as our lips finally met.

It was like an explosion, our lips moulded together perfectly as images and memories began to appear in my head. We had done this before, so many times before. I grasped onto him, trying to find something to anchor me. I threaded my hands in his still-damp hair, as his arm wrapped around my waist pulling me impossibly closer. The contact made me gasp, and he deepened the kiss, our tongues dancing together as more and more visions hit me. Other missions where this exact same set of events continued to happen over and over again. It was the strongest sense of deja vu that I had ever felt.

His body began to press closer to me, pushing me down into the bed. I finally broke the kiss so I could breathe. I looked up at him, his eyes had almost lost all of their blue, leaving only dark pits behind. I quickly pulled the large tee over my head with his elf, and his eyes followed to my chest. It was like I could read his mind, and I knew what he was trying to do. Although that sounded amazing, I had a different plan in mind.

Using my superstrength, I flipped the two of us over so he was the one lying with his legs dangled over the edge of the bed. His eyes met mine, and I couldn’t help but smirk as I raked my nails over his chest, eliciting a quiet groan from his lips. God, I never wanted him to stop making those sounds, I just wanted to make him feel good. I had no idea how the towel stayed around his waist, but it had. Kneeling down, I slowly undid the towel. It was huge to say the least. For a minute, I wondered how the hell I was going to get the whole thing in my mouth, but the minute the thought occurred, it was followed by memories of doing exactly that. I didn’t want to tease him, but I just couldn't help but enjoy the view in front of me, watch his chest heave, his body beginning to glisten with sweat, his dick resting on his stomach, going a little past his navel. The only words I could use to describe him in this very moment was perfect.

My hand rested on his stomach. I felt the muscles in his abdomen tense as my tongue hit his cock, licking one long strip up the shaft, before bringing the head into my mouth. I felt his hand wrap itself into my hair, pulling me even farther onto his dick. I slacked my jaw and hollowed my cheeks as best as possible as I slowly sank farther and farther until my nose hit the base of his dick. The groan he made as his cock hit the back of my throat made me begin to squeeze down around nothing, my panties already ruined at this point. I waited there for a minute, trying to make sure I would be ok for what happened next.

He immediately took control the minute I began to relinquish it, rutting his hips up and into my mouth, pushing my head down onto his dick. I looked up at him, watching as his head flew back, his mouth parted and groans and moans spilling from his mouth. His thrusts started shallow and slow, but began to pick up pace, as I could feel him get closer and closer, his moans louder and louder. His hips began to stutter, and I felt his cock twitch in my mouth.

“Fuck, Y/N.” His hips slammed forward into my mouth, as I felt him spilling into my mouth. I pulled myself up, and swallowed.

Y/N, I knew what it had to be, but I was still in awe and shock. I hadn’t heard that in forever. I must have remembered some time along and told him, archived in his memories. I couldn’t help but hope that this would help me go even deeper into my past. My name had been lost to me for so long, it was nice to finally have an inkling as to who I was.

My eyes locked with his, as he sat up, pulling me up to my feet. He wasted no time, pulling me down on the bed and rolling me on my back.

Our lips met, the kiss passionate, and yet soft and gentle. He moved lower and lower, kissing his way down my body. I closed my eyes, simply enjoying the way that his mouth felt on me, but gasped as he latched onto my nipple, swirling around the peak while rolling the other in his metal fingers. I moaned out at the different sensations, but I pulled his head up, so he could look me in the eyes.

“Please, I need you inside me,” I was out of breath, but he got the point. My body was already clenching around nothing and couldn’t wait any longer. A smirk spread over his face, his ego starting to form, a personality that I had never seen before, but his face jogged more and more memories. His fingers trailed down to my core, trailing his fingers through, collecting my wetness in his fingers. I gasped at the feeling of finally being touched, some sort of relief.

“Fuck, doll, all this for me?”

“Only you, no one else.” My rambles were cut off, a moan ripping through my throat as he pressed down on my clit, rubbing rough circles on the bud. His hand trailed downward, and eased two fingers into me, making sure I was ready for him. He pushed in and out a few times, before pulling them out of me, taking them into his own mouth. His face looked like he was eating the best thing he’d ever tasted.

My eyes were glued to him as he began to line himself up, bringing the tip of his cock up and down my pussy, just enjoying the way he looked standing like that. Slowly, he pushed into me, easing his way in until I felt his thighs hit my ass, my legs wrapping around his hips, trying to keep him in this place as I moaned out, the feeling of being so so full filling my senses. His dick snugly hit that special spot inside of me, causing my head to spin with pleasure.

He waited until he knew that I was absolutely ok, before pulling out just as slowly as he went in, almost completely out, before quickly slamming his hips back in, making me scream out. He kept a fast and brutal pace, no longer being able to control himself.

“Fuck, I didn’t know how much I missed this, doll. You’re squeezing my cock so good.” His words only made me clamp down more, egging me on. I bit down on my lip hard, but he leaned down and began to kiss me, pulling my lip out from between my lips. He broke the kiss, settling his face near my ear. “Don’t you dare stop makin’ those noises.”

I could feel my stomach begin to tighten, the familiar knot forming in my abdomen as he kept hitting the spot inside of me perfectly. He must have noticed I was trying to hold off for him

“Cum for me doll, I’m right behind you.” His thumb pressed against my clit and I was done for, my vision going black, as my body shook under him, as I felt his cum inside of me, filling me up.

A word, a name bubbled up to the front of my tongue, overflowing and pushing its way out of my mouth. “Bucky!”

I couldn't see for a minute, my vision cloudy and hazy, but I felt him slip out of me. I whined at the empty feeling in me, as he got up and went to the bathroom. A minute later, he came back, washcloth in hand. Silently, he cleaned me up, before casting the small towel aside, settling on the bed next to me.

“I missed you,Y/N”

“I missed you too, Bucky” The name felt right, the right sounds that fit perfectly with the way he looked and acted. His face softened, as the memories of the two of us hung heavy in the air.

“I know this might be a bit far, but I hate doing this,”

“Me too, doll. I want to remember you.”

“I say when they put us in the chair this time, we fight for the memories, and next mission, we run like hell.”

“That sounds like a perfect idea”

I had thought it out coming back to the facility, how they wouldn’t be able to overpower both of us at the same time, so if we gave no indication that we could remember again, they wouldn’t have any worry. The only problem was where the hell we were supposed to go. I was pretty sure that the facility was in America, the plane that we took was over a large body of water as we came back, and all of the people at the hotel had French accents, or spoke the language. I had no clue who I was, besides my name, and my love for Bucky, but damn if I wasn’t going to find out where the hell we came from.

I was strapped down to the chair, my limbs bound in tight leather to the seat, with a piece in my mouth, and the clamps on my head. They turned the machine on, and pain shot through every part of my body. I felt the memories wanting to fade away, but I shut my eyes, trying to push myself, will myself to remember. The pain was unbearable, so instead I made myself a room. A little room in my head where I would stay with my best memories away from the pain. The room had walls and doors made out of the metal in my leg, a metal I’ve never seen anyone break. I stood in the room, going through the memories, through everything that had ever happened between Bucky and I.

Finally, the machine eased off of its power, and my body relaxed, relieved that the torture was finally over. I searched my mind, and found my little room, intact. I wanted to jump up and down, celebrate my success over the machine that had been the bane of my existence for as long as I could remember, but I couldn't. I stayed strong faced, and yet blank, as I heard the door open and out walked the man, the one they called Pierce. He was our handler.

“Mission Report”

“The two of us arrived at the hotel, we waited for four days until the target arrived, which was when we executed the mission and were extracted.” My voice was monotone and dull, the way I would sound normally after I had been fully wiped, with only memories of how to maim, kill, and spy.

“Very good, you may go to your room now, you have a new mission for tomorrow.” His words were cold, and two of the people who worked here grabbed either of my arms, leading me to the place that I was left to sleep. I looked up at the ceiling, thoughts swirling through my head, did Bucky make it out ok? What did he remember? I could help with that though, the memories would come back. But that was just a part of this. We were going to get out of this hell hole, and no one could stop us.

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amymel86 · 3 years

Note

Hello! Do you have any bits of your awesome writing to share for WIP wednesday?😍

I just saw this anon!

And thank you for asking <3

This is a bit more of this as yet untitled 'post-apocalyptic/fertility/modern arranged relationship???' fic. The first bit I posted on tumblr is here and as before, some things are not yet decided (like town names) and things may change...

“Are you sure this is what you want to do, darling?” Her mother’s voice on the telephone was a balm to her soul.

Sansa’s finger brushed the soft vivid petals of the small potted iris she’d bought at the store today. The iris symbolises hope, wisdom and courage among other things and she prays that the pretty purple and yellow bloom will lend her some of those. “I’ve got to try something, Mum,” she says, turning her attention to the two separate bundles of paper in front of her. Two men, two candidates, two different futures. Sansa had filled out all the matching service’s extensive questionnaires and scrutinised all the information she could find on the program. It seemed simple enough – you’re rewarded for helping to repopulate. In turn, the authorities help to pair you with someone who should be a good match dependant on all the information they have about you. The aim is that this new generation of children are raised in the traditional family unit. That had appealed to Sansa. “I can’t seem to find the right guy all on my own anyway,” she said into her phone.

“How do you know it will be safe, though?”

“It says here that my situation will be monitored by my own caseworker. I can call them any time I want. They’re not just going to drop me at the guy’s house and just leave us get on with it.”

“Hmmm... tell me about them? These men that they’ve narrowed down for you.”

“One’s called Waymar, he’s a financial advisor here in the Vale,” Sasna pauses, looking at the man’s photograph on his paperwork before fishing out the other. “And the other is called Jon, he owns a farm in the Reach.”

“None in the north then?” Her mother has been itching to get her back home. “I just wish there was a way to know that either of them were good men, Sansa. That’s all I want for you.”

Sansa put the two photos together. Two possible fathers for her child.

“That’s what I want too.”

***

“Shit! Holy fucking shit!” Jon says to himself, hanging up from his phone-call. “Mance!” he yells, bursting out of his trailer to find the old man. “Mance! It worked! It fucking worked!”

He’d relented. When Mance first put it to him that he should sign up for that weird government breeding program or whatever the fuck it was, he thought the old man’s last brain-cell must’ve fried up in the sun. But if they were going to make it easier for them and it meant Mance could keep the farm (and Jon could carry on living there rent free), then it was worth a shot. So he had relented. He’d filled out what seemed to be a gazillion and one questions about himself, his politics, his views on family and finances and education and fucking... art and shit. These damned government people wanted to know everything about him down to whether he scrunched or folded his toilet paper it seemed. He’d even had to lie. He didn’t like doing it, but there was no way that a fertile was going to pick him if he didn’t. So, he fished out an old photograph – one taken before the bar brawl that lost him his sight in one eye, and he’d also lied his asscheeks off by claiming he had ownership of the farm. He knew – he knew – that these lies are just more things that were going to trip him up one of these days but with Mance urging him on, he’d signed that damn form and offered himself up for the program.

And now a fertile had chosen him.

Him.

Fuck, he might throw up.

This can go one of two ways. Either completely up Shit Creek without a paddle – with his lies and reality crashing down on top of one another, leaving them exposed... or, his fertile somehow looks past his deceits and sticks with him and they-... well, shit, he could actually become a father. No-one becomes parents these days, especially not ‘round here. Fertiles flock to the big cities, to men with bigger pockets, or they work for couples who can afford to pay them off in exchange for a kid or two.

“It worked?” Mance asks, rolling out from under an old Ford pickup that needed a new exhaust. “They sendin’ us a peach?”

Jon shook his head. “They’re not sendin’ you anyone, old man. An’ don’t call her that – they’re-“ Fuck, what did the council call them on all that paperwork? “Reproductively abled.” He’ll have to remember that if he doesn’t want to offend her.

“Well, shit,” Mance grins. “What did I tell ya? Knew your pretty face was good for somethin’!”

Jon frowns. “Ain’t so pretty no more though.” He might have to go get himself a patch to cover his milky, sightless eye. It’s fine most of the time since Mance is the only one he sees unless he’s going to drink at Hobb’s, but he certainly doesn’t want to put off his ferti- reproductively abled friend who’ll be arriving in three weeks.

“She got a name? Your new peach?” Mance asked, earning him a glare.

“Sansa. Sansa Stark.”

Mance grunts and nods. “Sounds fancy.”

Yeah... It did sound kinda fancy he supposes. Jon’s first reaction had been that it was a mighty beautiful name, but now he thinks of it...

“Shame we can’t look her up – see if she’s a beauty or not.”

Jon can’t remember a time when that was an option. He was barely 11 at the highest point of the virus’s hold. Government officials had deemed certain channels on the internet were causing more harm than good by spreading false rumours, incorrect statistics and completely counterintuitive medical advice. The whole thing was shut down, now deemed illegal, only to be reconnected again three years later apparently looking like a foreign landscape from the one before. The internet was no longer a platform to socialise, only government approved informative sites remained. Mance says it’s better this way – that all people used to do was post vain images of themselves for attention anyway.

Jon wouldn’t mind seeing a vain image of Sansa Stark right about now though.

Not that it mattered terribly. As long as they get along and she decides to stick around she could be as ugly as sin. In fact, she probably will be, won’t she? Most pretty ferti- reproductively abled women stick to the cities and its high-fliers.

It doesn’t matter, he told himself. You just gotta keep her happy here and-

“Mance?” he asks, an issue coming to mind. The man grunts in acknowledgement. “Where the fuck is she gonna sleep? She’s not gonna want to stay in my trailer.”

The man grins in response. “I’m glad you asked, boy. I’m glad you asked.”

***

Her caseworker was meant to meet her at the train station. It was quite a drive to the farm and he was meant to pick her up, make sure she’s safe and happy and introduce her to Jon.

That hasn’t happened.

“Please accept my apologies, my dear,” Mr Baelish said down the other end of the phone. “There’s been a mix up with my schedule. We can set you up for the night at a local motel or ask your match to come and get you. Which would you prefer?”

Sansa eyes the dirty looking motel across the street from the train station. Everything here at [[INSERT TOWN NAME]] seems a little on the... rundown side. Maybe the sooner she gets to the farm, the better. Plus, her tummy is all a flutter with anticipation to actually meet Jon. She’d wound up swaying towards Jon as a match due to a few reasons; 1 – he does not live in, around, or anywhere near Harry or his crazy mother. 2 – he owns a farm, and that had conjured up hazy daydreams of idyllic country life. Sansa may enjoy big nights out in the city, drinking her dirty margaritas and feeling her bones vibrate against the base beat in a nightclub, but she knows that’s not what she wants to raise a child around. A child will want to run barefoot through wheat fields and chase chickens and milk cows and –

Let’s just say Sansa has a few ideas and that they all helped to sway her away from city pleasures and towards farmhouse life. And Jon

And last, but not least, reason number 3 – Jon himself. Put side-by-side, his and Waymar’s photographs looked rather similar if truth be told, but Jon won out on something that Sansa just couldn’t describe. Looking at his photograph gave her goosepimples along her forearms because it was like he was looking right back at her. There was something in the depths of his eyes – a kindness? A wit? A strength? She’s not sure, but she couldn’t find the same qualities when she stared at Waymar’s likeness. And his answers too. His questionnaire was full of how he’d like to teach a kid how to walk and ride a bike and fix a... a tractor for heaven’s sake! And so her head was flooded once more of this idyllic life where they got up to watch the dawn stretch over the farmland and they’d grow their own vegetables and she’d bake a pie every day and it would just be perfect.

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

Sansa glances around the near abandoned train station.

This doesn’t look so perfect right now.

“Could you please arrange for Jon to come and get me, Mr Baelish?”

***

It’s been an hour and fifty-six minutes precisely since Sansa last spoke to Mr Baelish to arrange her match coming to get her. An hour and fifty-six minutes of sitting on the curb, waiting, surrounded by her three suitcases. She’d started off by sitting at the nearby bus stop, purely because it was somewhere to sit and she had a clear view of the road, but after the rude bus driver insisted that if she’s sat there, she must be wanting to hop on his bus, Sansa decided to park her butt on the dusty, sun-baked curb instead. Her legs were beginning to numb and she was starting to get a headache from the sun beaming down on her head. The curls she’d styled into her copper locks have likely lost their hold by now. What a waste. Opposite, on the other side of the street, beside the dirty little motel, there was a tiny bar that advertised the fact that it hosted exotic dancers at the weekends with a blinking neon sign. Next to it was a hunting and fishing ‘emporium’ and beside that was a vacant store with an old dirty sign that read ‘Blouses & More!’. Presumably, the ‘& more’ still wasn’t enough to keep that fine establishment in business in this funny little town. At the end of the block was ‘Tarly’s Drugstore’ and Sansa had been debating with herself whether or not she should haul her suitcases over to go buy a drink and a magazine for about the last hour and fifty-five minutes.

But she hadn’t wanted to miss Jon Snow’s arrival.

Jon Snow, who seemed to be pulling up outside Tarly’s Drugstore in a dusty Ford pickup truck right about now. Sansa stood, expecting him to come right on over considering how long she’d been waiting for him, but she found herself wondering if she’d got it all wrong when she hadn’t caught a good enough look at him before he darted straight into the store.

Sansa is done with waiting. She grabs her smallest case and places it on top of her larger one, trying her darnedest to roll all her luggage across the road in a lady-like fashion. She could feel the eyes of several passers-by on her while her stiletto heels clip across the street. In turn, her own gaze fell to Jon’s cream-coloured truck. Its front bumper looked a little rusty and wonky too. There was a big gash in the leather of the bench seating on the passenger side. On the truck bed, there were a number of items, including a rocking chair that seems to have a couple of spindles on the chair-back missing, and a new double bed mattress wrapped in clear plastic. Sansa was almost done frowning at the state of the vehicle when the over-door bell of the drugstore tinkles.

“Holy shit,” he curses. And yes, it definitely was Jon standing right in front of her. Only... well... his hair was tied into a knot at the back of his head and.... and... he was wearing a black eye patch? “Uh,” he stood there, arms laden with bottles from the store as the gaze from his one good eye quickly darted down her frame and back up again. “You’re her, right? You’re Sansa Stark?”

Sansa found she could only nod, looking him up and down, like he was with her. He was in jeans with oil smears, some tough, heavy looking boots, a somehow pristine white vest and flannel shirt with the arms ripped off.

Speaking of arms...

Gods-damn! Sansa’s focus was momentarily derailed...

“Sorry, I-“ Jon starts before his grey eye drops to the floor and then returns to her, looking a little bashful. “I didn’t expect you to be so pretty.”

Oh boy. He may be wearing an eye patch right now but this man could win over a thousand girls with that smile, Sansa’s sure of it. She resists the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl. She’s here to find out if they’re well suited enough to start a family together – she needs to keep her head and think rationally, not allow herself to be swayed by his rugged country boy charm. It was Harry’s looks that enticed her in the first place – and look how well that turned out for her?

“Thank you,” Sansa says, blinking back at him before his words truly hit home. “Didn’t they give you my photograph?”

Jon shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

Huh.

“Did they show you mine?”

Sansa bites her lip and gives a nod.

Jon grimaces. “So I guess you weren’t expecting this?” He points to his patch.

Sansa shakes her head. “No... did you... did you do something to injure it?”

Jerking his head, Jon begins rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand. “It’s a long story... but... it ain’t gonna get any better, if that’s what you’re askin’.”

“Oh.”

They stood, staring at one another for a heartbeat or five before Jon sucks in a breath over his teeth and glances down to the bottles he clutched to his chest with one arm. “I tried to get you some things to help you feel at home,” he says, “these are the nicest smellin’ soaps ‘n’ stuff from Tarly’s.”

“Thank you,” Sansa replies, knowing full well that she brought her Highgarden Floral Scents bathroom range with her.

Jon chews on his lip as he eyes her suitcases. “Lemme get those for you,” he offers before dumping the bottles in his arms into the truck bed and reaching for her luggage. Sansa’s heeled shoes seem welded to the spot. Jon notices. Scrubbing both hands down his face in resignation, he takes a step closer to her and Sansa realises for the first time, that he had dirt beneath his fingernails. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. “It was a shitty thing for me to do,” he offers, his words low and husky. Sansa feels the timbre of his voice set off a trickle of gooseflesh down her spine. “I’m sorry.”

She blinks at him, momentarily confused.

“About this,” he explains, brows high on his head as he points to his patch. “I shouldn’t have sent that old photo of before this happened, but – fuck – even my ex-girl won’t acknowledge I exist anymore with this and I knew I shoulda been honest about it but-“

“This ex-girl...” Sansa suddenly found herself left with a sour taste in her mouth. “... does she still mean something to you?”

Jon licks at his lips, his eye falling briefly to her own. “No, ma’am,” he shakes his head.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #wip wednesday #but late #oops

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dameronology · 4 years

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aftermath {natasha romanoff x reader}

summary: when the snap happened, everyone’s minds immediately went to the person they loved the most. natasha romanoff’s went to you. (for @writefightandflightclub!! i hope you enjoy❤️)

warnings: set during the snap, so all the canon angst of that + swearing

- jamie

Natasha Romanoff had a long to-do list.

Declaring her love for you was certainly on there.

It’s just - as life often went - she got busy. You got busy. There were missions that took you to opposite ends of the globe and meetings that pulled you apart at all hours of the day. There was something between you - something strong and pure, something sweet against that contrasted against the dark world you’d both come to discover - but Natasha couldn’t quite work out what. She’d never felt the need to. It didn’t have to be explained. Unlike everything else in her life, it wasn’t complicated. You were consistent. You someone she could count on. A constant and steady presence among a world that never seemed to slow down.

It was stolen kisses as you brushed past one another in the corridor. It was slow mornings under the covers of the dark before you had to drag one another out of bed to face the day. It was knowing in your very souls that you had one another; knowing that no matter where or when, you could turn to each other for anything. You never rushed her into anything, or asked her too much of her - that was something she was particularly thankful for. She couldn’t work out if she was just lucky, or if she’d been a saint in a past life to deserve you.

But, in the same way that life had plenty of highs, it came with lows. It could pack a punch and whilst you both prided yourself on your ability to get back up, some hits kept you down.

The snap had been a flashpoint moment for everyone who survived it. You could have asked anyone and every person would remember where they were, who they were with and what they were thinking. No matter how many years passed, they would remember. The loss, the pain, the panic. The not knowing if their loved ones were alive.

Natasha had been in Wakanda. You had been in the States. The last few days had worn you both down to your very cores and you’d barely had a chance to speak. The only thing that had kept her going was the occasional sound of your voice over the comms - reminding her that you’d see each other in a few days, that everything would be okay and that you could go home. Maybe you believed your own words. Maybe you didn’t. Either way, feeding yourself false hope was the only way you could have possibly pulled through to the final battle.

Vision. T’Challa. Strange. Bucky. Sam.

All gone. One by one. Bit by bit. Ceasing to exist in a matter of seconds.

Natasha had realised what was happening - and her heart dropped. It fucking plummeted. You were the first place her mind went. She hadn’t heard anything from your comms line in a while - but you’d been busy fighting, busy holding up the other end of the fight across the ocean. You were okay. Of course you were.

You had to be.

She slowly - and almost dubiously - raised her hand to her ear piece, pressing the receive button. There was a crackling sound, but no voice. Why hadn’t you said anything? Maybe you were still busy in battle, or you were on your knees mourning for your friends in the same way people around her were. Her brain spat out a million different possibilities at once but not one of them seemed to cover the worst possible scenario.

You’d been lost in the snap.

Natasha knew that it was the most likely outcome. Fifty percent of all living things - she didn’t like those odds, especially not given her track history. Whenever she felt like she finally had something good and pure, it got ripped away from her. It had happened a thousand times before and she’d been insane to think it wouldn’t have happened again. This time, she’d really let herself be aloof; she’d let herself be naive enough to think that you were a permanent fixture in her life.

The realise that she was in love with you hit Natasha Romanoff like a ton of bricks; like a freight train to a strewn car. It was the most obvious thing in the world but still, the biggest shock her system had ever experienced. She’d always wondered what love felt like, what it was - and it had been right in front of her the whole time.

The journey back to the Compound was only a few hours, but it felt like lifetimes. There was so much hanging in the balance and Natasha almost didn’t want to land. It would mean knowing for sure that you were gone, that Tony was gone, that so many of the people she’d come to care for were gone. It was like a mutated, screwed up version of Schrodinger’s Cat. There was still the possibility that you were alive and kicking but the Black Widow was nothing if not a realist. She knew how these things usually went.

Steve nor Bruce said a word the entire way back. Even Thor was uncharacteristically silent, tucked away in the corner of the quint-jet with his knees pulled to his chest and a solemn look on his tired face. The life had been pulled from all of you over the last few days, and even the demigod’s humanity was starting to peep through. They were all spent. Mentally, emotionally, physically.

‘Look after yourselves.’ Steve’s instructions were a little half-hearted as the four of them traipsed of the ramp of the jet. Even in the darkest of times, he was still trying to be the leader.

‘Don’t forget to do the same.’ Natasha spoke for the first time in what felt like hours. ‘You look like hell.’

‘Feel it too.’ He murmured in response.

Natasha was working on autopilot, letting her legs simply drag her from the jet and towards the living quarters. She usually went to your room after long and tiring missions - the way you greeted her with a warm hug and encouraging words never seemed to get old. You were always the first thing her mind went to when she thought of coming home. You were her home.

Your room had always felt a thousand times more comfortable than hers. It was a mess of clutter and pillows and discarded clothes but it was welcoming, and filled with tiny reminders of you. There was a strewn book on the bed, alongside your reading glasses. The walls were filled with photos of you and the team; there was one of the time that Thor had dragged you all to Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park. Steve was grinning, Tony had ice cream on his nose and you and Nat were in one another’s arms. There was a Polaroid from your brief trip to the Bahamas, when Sam had sunscreen on his nose and Bucky was scowling under the bright sun. Most of the photos, however, were just random ones of you and Nat.

She was grateful to have those photos. They were something to hold onto, something to remember you by in case you didn’t-

‘- where the fuck have you been?!’

The cry of someone’s voice pulled Natasha from her thoughts and less than a moment later, your body collided with hers. You hit her with a thump, arms instantly wrapping around her waist to cling onto her.

It took her a minute to react; to realise that you were real. You were alive. You’d survived the snap and you were here, clinging onto her for dear life and practically crying into her shoulder. Natasha had forgotten for a moment that she’d been radio silent too, working on the assumption that you were gone. Grief went both ways - of course you’d felt it for her.

Her arms came to hold you back, tightly clinging onto your shoulders. Your bodies were tangled together, skin to skin and nose to nose, the smell of your perfume and shampoo immediately bringing her to reality. You’d survived. For once, she’d assumed the worst and was wrong.

‘My comms went down when it happened and I tried to call you, and Bruce, and Steve-’

‘- I love you.’

You pulled back from Nat, an o-shape on your lips as you stared at her with wide eyes. It was as though she’d knocked the air from your lungs and stolen your ability to speak, or to function as a human being. That was the Black Widow’s speciality, after all.

‘You love me?’ You repeated it back to her.

‘You were the first person I thought of when...when it happened.’ She still couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge what had happened earlier that day. ‘I feel like I’ve always known it but I thought we had time, that I could wait to tell you-’

‘- I love you too.’

‘You do?’

‘Nat.’ You squeezed her arms, giving her a tearful smile despite everything. ‘You’re all I can think about on a good day. The world was literally crumbling around us and I couldn’t think of another person.’

She gave you a knowing nod - you had both lost a lot of the last few days. Near enough everything, in fact. Most of the world had barely even begun to process what happened, or even thought about accepting it. You were on that page too. Everything had changed and the world was never going to be the same again. It was though someone had taken the idea that nuclear war was the worst possible outcome and they’d laughed.

‘I don’t even know where to begin.’ Nat murmured, hand ghosting your cheekbone. ‘Everything is....’

‘...gone?’ You offered.

‘Gone.’

The euphoria that came with her declaration was only fleeting. It was the relief you needed after days of battling but it didn’t change anything that had happened. Still, at least you had her by your side.

‘Whatever the next few days - or months or years - bring, you have to promise me one thing.’ Natasha took your hands in hers, gently intertwining your fingers.

‘Anything.’

‘We’ll do it together.’

You nodded. ‘Together.’

She finally closed the gap between you, softly brushing her lips against yours. You’d kissed many times before but this held something different; love, panic, desperation. It was a testament to the last few days - the feeling of losing someone and regaining them all without truly ever realising. It made you cling onto her a little tighter, savouring the taste and feel of her a little more.

You didn’t even know where to begin - there was no doubt that the mantle of protecting the Earth still lay in the laps of the Avengers. That would come once people had accepted what had happened and frankly, you weren’t even there yet. Your brain was still processing seeing Thanos in person, let alone the rest of the what kind of fuckery is this that had followed.

But in that moment, Natasha was the only thing on your mind. She was in one piece, and so you were you. Neither of you had any idea what was to come, but there was one thing you were certain of.

You had Nat and she had you. Nothing else mattered.

#natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #avengers x you #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #marvel imagines #marvel fanfic #avengers fanfic

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that-good-trash · 4 years

Text

Trust Me?

Bakugou x reader / Shinsou x reader

Warning: Hurt/comfort, Angst, Mentions of cheating, Happy Ending?

Word Count: 6.5k

Summary: You love your boyfriend more than anything but it seems he might not feel the same way anymore. When the same friend that planted the seed of doubt ends up your shoulder to cry on where do you go from there.

Authors note: I’ve been dealing with a lot of stuff and this was kind of my self indulgence fic. Please Enjoy!

P.S: I was thinking about jumping on the kinktober bandwagon but I’m worried I can’t do kink justice. Maybe look out for some quick one shots if I do. I am also having to rewrite the fourth chapter of Burn Away With Me because the original file somehow ended up freaking deleted (note to self and others always back up files or make a copy).

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Saturdays were meant for relaxation, for hanging out with friends without a worry. The weekend was meant to provide a chance to shed your hero uniform and trade it for a cute comfy outfit. Well that’s how weekends should be, that’s what you wish you were able to do. Instead you sat on your couch scrolling through your phone watching your friends have fun without you. Pictures of dancing and drinking continuously pass as your fingers move absentmindedly. A picture of Mina taking shots followed by photos of Kaminari on a tabletop. This always happened, you had been missing out for weeks now. However, this problem went deeper than missing a few weekend hangouts. Your boyfriend, whom you had been with for almost three years, had been canceling plans with you for the last few months. Every time you both had a day off, he always got called in or he had made previous plans. It was starting to get old. Had he always been so flaky? Had you just not noticed before or was this new. Either way you were now fully aware of his behavior and how little attention you received from him. Your screen lit up with messages from friends telling you to ‘get your ass to the club’ immediately. Oh, how you wanted too. You wished you were wearing a skimpy outfit grinding against your besties laughing and enjoying yourself. Instead of getting into your club attire you put your phone onto the coffee table. Your back hits the cushions behind you as you fall backward. A sigh slips out and you’re ready to reevaluate your life. What kind of relationship was this? You felt like you were alone, and it was starting to seep into your conscious letting that little voice grow louder and louder with doubt and self-deprivation. It took every ounce of your being to reject the thoughts, to lull yourself back into a false sense of security. Your phone ringing disrupted your thoughts good or bad.

“Hey, I was just thinking about you! I miss-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence before the deep grouchy voice of Katsuki Bakugou interrupted you.

“I won’t be home tonight. Don’t wait up for me, just eat dinner and go to bed.” He sounded like he had been sounding. He sounded tired with a swirl of irritation and it took a lot to convince yourself that it wasn’t toward you. You had to bite your bottom lip to prevent yourself from screaming at him for doing this again. You loved him, did so much for him, that it hurt for him to just blow you off. What was even worse was he didn’t even tell you why he wasn’t coming home. He just expected you to turn in early without even an explanation. You wanted to cuddle or go out with friends and he wanted you to spend the night alone.

“Suki… Why aren’t you coming home? You said last week that you were going to try to come home early.” A growl of frustration could be heard on the other side causing you to tense up. You knew you were upsetting him but that wasn’t fair. He had no right to be upset with you since you were only asking him a simple question and stating a fact. He had promised you that he would start coming home early to spend time with you. You knew that being a hero was hard, you were one. However, you also knew when someone was just making excuses and that’s what this was becoming.

“Christ woman! I have work to do! I said I would try, and I have tried. Obviously, I couldn’t make it home tonight so just listen for once and don’t wait up.” No chance of rebuttal, he had hung up immediately after snapping. That was it. The last straw. You let the tears you had been suppressing fall freely. Your phone was aggressively tossed to the ground and unfortunately your body followed it. Your knees hit the ground first before your clenched fist dug into the carpet. Your head buried itself into the carpet before a scream escaped. It was one of filled so much pent up emotion. A scream that needed to be freed, to help release you from this torture he was putting you through. You sat back on the balls of your feet, your hands swiping at your eyes rubbing the tears into your skin. You cried more causing your hands to rub harder, your skin stung and burned from the aggressive motion. Your phone chimed bring your attention back to it. Your hand held the device hoping for an apology but instead read the newest text from Mina. It was another invite, but the party had moved from the club to Yaoyorozu’s house. A smirk replaced your previous forlorn look. You stood up from the floor letting all sadness be hidden away by pettiness. If he could ditch you like that, go back on a promise so easily then you could go against him. He wanted you to stay home like a good girl, but you didn’t feel like being that good girl. You had never changed so fast in your life. Your pajamas were traded in for a formfitting outfit, one your kept for special Mina party occasions. You looked at yourself in the mirror with gleaming confidence. You outfit accentuated all your nooks and crannies. You looked smoking hot and with some simple yet stunning makeup you were ready to go. A quick text to Mina and you left the cold lonely apartment

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The party wasn’t over the top and thankfully everyone there was a former classmate. You waved as a few people turned to look at you. Sero had to do a double take to make sure he was witnessing reality and not a ghost. You rolled your eyes as his tape grabbed your wrist before a swift yank had you in his arms. A soft chuckle escaped from your lips that were buried in his chest. He smelled like cedar and felt warm. You let your body relax against his as he let you go but kept his hand on your waist. Kaminari had abandoned his post next to Jiro and rushed over. Before he could try and snatch you away from Sero a new pair of arms circled you. Mina was smiling against you neck as she stuck his tongue out at a now pouting Kaminari.

“I’m so glad you actually decided to make it tonight. We were starting to think you hated us.” You shook your head at the fake hurt in her voice. The boys weren’t helping since they nodded along with Mina. You pulled out his grasp backing away so you could see all three of them. They really had changed in the short span of time since you had seen them. Sero was rocking a cool new undercut while Kaminari seemed a little more built. Mina had also cut her hair, but you knew that since you basically stalked your friends.

“I’m so sorry guys. It’s been crazy, work and home have been a little hectic.” A scoff could be heard behind you. Everyone’s eyes shifted to Uraraka who had her arms crossed. Midoriya stood behind her awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Uraraka’s puffed out cheeks mimicked that of a chipmunk. You raised a brow at her strange behavior. “Did I say something to offend you.”

“No but why lie? We all know that the reason we don’t see you anymore is because of Bakugou.” Your eyes widened at her straightforward accusation. You looked at Midoriya waiting for him to comment but he remained silent, probably in fear of getting involved. You narrow your eyes trying to hold some dignity. “Bakugou and I are fine okay. I just haven’t had the time to make it to any hang outs because I spend time with him.”

Now everyone was looking at you. For being the only sober person in the room you were sounding like the drunk one. Everyone knew that Bakugou had been blowing off plans with you. It was inevitably that they found out since most everyone talks, and things get around. A sigh that matched the one back at your apartment came out. You looked defeated as you returned to Sero’s side. He rubbed your side while Mina shooed everyone’s attention off you. “You don’t have to talk about it but we’re here for you.”

“Thanks guys…” You closed your eyes trying to let your emotions settle before returning to the fun party you had yet to enjoy and partake in. When you reopened your eyes, a smile followed. You were going to have fun even if it killed you. Mina squealed when you asked for a drink and before you knew it one turned to three. Uraraka had ditched her sour attitude and replaced it with giggles as the two of you danced together. You broke free from Uraraka as you watched Kirishima walk through the front door. You didn’t even give the boy a chance to take off his coat before you were tackling him. He was shocked to see you at the party just like the others had been.

“What are you doing out so late? Isn’t Bakubro’s bedtime at 8pm.” Kirishima was able to get a laugh out of you along with the other members of the Bakusquad.

“Yeah his bedtime would be 8pm if he ever came home. He’s always working late. I never see him anymore.” As the words left your lips you felt the air grow cold. Tension was evident. You froze as you felt your blood run cold. There was an unspoken understanding, but you knew that Kirishima wasn’t going to remain silent. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly which was accompanied by a shaky laugh that turned into him clearing his throat.

“I might be wrong but Bakugou hasn’t been working late… I was one of the last people to leave the office. Bakugou left at his usual time…” You wanted to pretend to be ignorant, but this couldn’t be swept under the rug. You couldn’t act like you hadn’t just been told that your boyfriend had been lying to you for months. Oh god your stomach began to churn, and you pushed passed him and through the front door. You ran into someone before turning and throwing up into one of the planters. Sero and Mina ran after you. Kirishima stood in the doorway feeling guilty but also pissed knowing that the person at fault was his best friend. You felt a comforting hand on your back rubbing it gently. You assumed Mina but when you finally turned around your eyes met with lavender ones. A broken smile cracked across your face. He held his arms open and you ran into them without hesitation. Shinsou had always been there for you when you were both attending UA, but time was cruel, and you couldn’t remember the last time you felt secure in his tight embrace. You sobbed and he just let you. Your friends stood by watching with conflicting emotions.

“What the hell did that asshole do now.” Shinsou was never one to speak to you like you were fragile; he was always blunt and honest. He also never approved of your relationship so of course he’d blame your current state on Bakugou. You wanted to tell Shinsou but couldn’t get the words out. Thankfully you had friends who could speak for you. Sero was the one who spoke up. “She found out that Bakugou hasn’t been staying at work late. She is obviously thinking the worst but he’s probably training or visiting his parents.”

“Bakugou? I just saw him at that fancy restaurant that we went to for Midoriya’s birthday. He was there with some busty bimbo. They seemed pretty interested in the conversation they were sharing. She must be a client or some woman after an interview.” Shinso knew exactly what he was doing when he told you about the mystery woman. He hated hurting you, but it was a necessary evil. Shinsou had always had feelings for you even before he understood them. You were always by his side cheering him on and now he was going to do the same for you. Before he could build you back up, he’s having to let you crumble under the lies Bakugou told you. Your eyes shimmered with unshed tears and a storm was brewing. Your fists were clenched, and your friends hesitated to approach you. You swiftly turned around walking passed everyone back inside before grabbing your keys and leaving. You could hear your friends yelling for you, but you never stopped. Shinsou watched your car drive off into the distance. He knew this was going to end terribly but he would be there to catch you. Thankfully since the ground was already starting to give out.

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

“Where the hell have you been!” Bakugou almost dropped his keys as you tried to quietly enter your shared apartment. He turned growling at your accusatory tone. He slammed the door before turning to you. In the light that was cast from the hallway you could see his hair was disheveled, his shirt was wrinkled, and you could swear he smelled a little sweeter than usual. The signs all shone brightly in front of you. Bakugou approached you ready to start an argument over your attitude but stopped when he saw your eyes. They were sunken in, bloodshot, and lifeless. He had never seen you like this. His expression softened before he reached up to cup your cheek. His hand never got to touch you before it was smacked away. “What the fuck Y/n!”

“Who is she… Actually, I don’t want to know. I just want to know why.” Bakugou wasn’t expecting your accusation so he couldn’t help but look shocked. Guilt seemed to creep over him before it was covered up with denial and anger. He scoffed and walked past you toward the bedroom. He didn’t make it before you had spun him around yelling this time. “WHY THE HELL DID YOU CHEAT!”

“SHUT THE HELL UP WOMAN! I DIDN’T DO SHIT! Who the fuck filled your head with such idiotic thoughts? Did you go out with those idiots again? Was it raccoon eyes or maybe that shitty Deku. Whoever told you that is a liar and needs a fucking hobby?” Bakugou yanked his arm away before heading into the bathroom to shower, no doubt to hide the evidence of his infidelity. You wanted to keep shouting and accusing him, but you knew it was pointless. If Bakugou thought he was innocent then he was no matter what kind of proof you had, which was none. Giving up was not an option and as much as this was your home you had to leave. Your chest tightened as you packed your bags. The only sound keeping you company was the shower Bakugou was currently occupying. You wrote a note and gently placed it onto your pillow before turning to leave. You felt your heart stop as Bakugou stared at you wide eyed. You felt like a deer in the headlight. He walked toward you, his hand reaching behind you to grab the note. He read it to himself before burning it in his grip. You flinched at the heat the radiated directly to your left. Bakugou growled as he loomed over you. “So, you’re leaving huh. You think you can just write a fucking note and disappear into the night. You aren’t going anywhere.”

A scream escaped as he grabbed you pushing you into the bed. His hands holding your arms above your head. He smirked as his towel fell at his feet. His grip tightened when you resisted. His knee pushing your legs apart. He shifted onto the bed never letting go of you and never moving his knee which was painfully pressed against you. “What the fuck are you doing Bakugou!”

“You think I’m cheating? Then I’ll just give you the attention you seem to be so deprived of to come up with such bullshit accusations.” You didn’t want this. You didn’t want his hand aggressively holding you down, you didn’t want his knee pushing against your crotch, you didn’t want his teeth biting into your neck like some kind of feral animal. You needed to get away. Your head smashed into his face allowing you the time you needed to get out from underneath him. He cursed while holding his bleeding nose. You grabbed your bags bolting to the front door but before you could open it, he caught you. His arms holding your waist from behind. You let out another scream of fear and agony before the back of your head smashed into his nose, again. A growl slipped out and you finally got the door open. Before you could make your escape Bakugou’s fingers slipped into your hair yanking you back. His lips touched your ear and you could smell the blood flowing freely down his lips. “She felt a million times better than you.”

No words came out instead a choked sob and a whimper as you felt him let you go. You didn’t even hear the door slam you were already out of the apartment complex and in your car. Your hands shook as you called the only person you could think to be awake. “Hey Y/n, what’s wrong?

“Shinsou, I need you.”

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

Bakugou tried to call you a million times after you left but to no avail. You had even blocked his number. He tried to find out where you had gone but no one would share that information with him. He had even gone to your agency but all they could tell him was that you were on a leave of absence. Bakugou truly had fucked up with no sign of reconciliation. It had been a week of trying to find you and failing. Mina, Sero, Kaminari, and Kirishima claimed that they hadn’t heard from you which wasn’t really a lie. They knew that you left Bakugou and that you were crashing at Shinsou’s, but they had yet to visit. Everyone was worried about you, but they didn’t know the truth. They knew you had some kind of falling out but that was it. They had no idea what had actually happened.

“Are you going to lay in bed all day or are you going to actually get up.” Shinsou was teasing you as he slipped on his hoodie that he had to steal back from you. The day that you called him he was ready to break Bakugou’s jaw. He couldn’t believe what you had gone through and he partially felt like he was to blame for telling you about the girl, however you had the right to know that your boyfriend had been cheating on you. Shinsou had tried to make you as comfortable as he could but you were starting to get stir crazy.

“Why am I hiding when he’s the jerk who hurt me!” Shinsou shrugged as you threw his blanket off your body. You rolled out of his bed and stood in front of him pouting. He ruffled your hair while rolling his eyes at your outburst. He had dealt with multiple versions of you over the last few days. Sad, angry, regretful, spiteful, and any emotion in-between.

“Y/n, you don’t have to hide. You are safe with me, but you shouldn’t feel like you aren’t safe out there either. You can go back to your normal life. He won’t hurt you. I promise.” You knew that Shinsou was right and it was time to return to your normal life. Your arms wrap around him before you kiss his cheek thanking him. Before he can respond you run off to shower. He smiles to himself before calling out to you that he’s leaving and will see you later. After you shower you spend some time laying in bed texting Mina that you needed a girl’s day. She was in no way against it and told you she would meet you at her favorite coffee shop downtown. You changed into a cute skirt and one of Shinsou’s shirts that was a little baggy, that you tucked into the skirt. It was a casual and comfy outfit. You grabbed your purse and your phone before leaving the comfort of Shinsou’s apartment.

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

“Y/N!” Mina had trapped you in her hug eliciting a laugh from you. She pulled away and grabbed your face looking you over for any sign or marks that you could have possibly obtained from Bakugou. “You’re okay right?”

“Yes Mina. I’m… I’m not really that okay. I’m still coping with Bakugou using me, cheating on me, just overall destroying me. I’m mad at myself for trusting him for as long as I had.” You leaned your head into Mina’s hand feeling shitty once again. Mina pinched the cheek against her palm causing you to groan in slight pain. She looked sad; she was sad. She cared so much about you and it broke her heart knowing that you were still suffering. She was still missing details of what happened, but she was able to piece some things together after Bakugou drunk called her apologizing for what he had done to you. She was sick to her stomach and wanted nothing more than to call you and apologize herself. “I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there for you.”

“Mina you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m a big girl, I’ll be okay. And I haven’t been dealing with it alone. I’ve been staying at Shinsou’s.” That once sad look was quick to change into one of cat like curiosity. You had said the magic words.

“Shinsou hm.” You shoved Mina as the two of you entered the shop to actually get coffee. “I NEED ALL THE DETAILS.”

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

“Bakugou you can’t be serious.” Kirishima had been following Bakugou after they ended an all-nighter at work. Bakugou was ignoring Kirishima while heading to his destination. He had gotten a text from Kaminari that you were meeting with Mina. Kaminari hadn’t meant to send that information, he didn’t even remember sending it until Kirishima called him screaming about it. Bakugou already made up his mind, he needed to see you. To tell you how much he fucked up. He needed you back, for you to understand how much he loved you. He regretted everything he had said, he had done. Kirishima had tried to talk some sense into him but he failed. Bakugou thought what he was doing was right and stopping him meant nothing. No one gets in his way.

“Mina wait up you are walking to fast.” Mina had run ahead after seeing something in the widow of a shop that she thought would look amazing on you. You had to stop and let a few cars pass before trying to cross to meet your overly excited friend. The moment your foot moved forward your arm was yanked backward. You gasped before trying to pull it away from whoever grabbed you. As you turned to free yourself you came face to face with something worse than a stranger harassing you. Bakugou’s piercing red eyes were staring into yours, a jolt of fear rushed through you causing hair to stand up and your muscles to tense. People walked by with curiosity since neither of you tried hard to hide your identity. What was ground zero doing with Hero/Name? You didn’t care what random people on the streets were saying or thinking. What mattered right now was getting the hell away him. You yanked harder but his grip just tightened.

“Please, Y/n I need to talk to you.” His voice came out pleading. He was begging you to stay and listen but every fiber in your body told you to run or fight. You let your arm go limp like you were giving in. “Thank you.”

Bakugou smiled but that was literally smacked off his face when you swung your free arm back before delivering a swift punch. Bakugou grunted in pain letting you go so he could touch his hand to his nose. You hadn’t meant to hit him that hard but technically he shouldn’t have touched you, so it was justified. “Y/N!”

“Don’t Bakugou!” Bakugou had reached for you again while Kirishima ran at him trying to prevent this from escalating. Mina had realized what was going on by now and was running toward you. Her and Kirishima were trying to prevent exactly what was about to happen. Bakugou caught you before you could run. His hands held your arms tightly, the fingers digging aggressively into them. You could feel how hot they were, and you were scared that he would use his quirk. You didn’t want to show fear to him. Instead you mustered up a face of pure disgust. “You don’t get to touch me. LET GO OF ME!”

“Will you shut the hell up for a fucking second. I just wanted to talk to you. You disappeared and I had no idea where you went, and I was worried believe it or not. I’ve been kicking my own ass over the shit I said to you.” You stood there letting a man who cheated on you, a man who used you and hurt you, tell you that he was worried that he was regretful. He held you like you owed him this. That was all bullshit. Your shoulders shook as you dropped your head biting back tears that you felt he didn’t deserve. “I love you Y/n.”

The world had been moving just a moment ago and yet now everything seemed to stop. Time stood still but the words echoed. Mina and Kirishima faded out of existence leaving only you and Bakugou. If this was a romance movie it would be followed by you throwing your arms around Bakugou before kissing him. This was real life and you felt no positive emotions. Bakugou’s grip never loosened and his eyes remained staring intensely into your own. He wasn’t going to let you go till you responded. However, no matter how you responded if it wasn’t in favor to what he said then you may as well have remained silent. You felt your heart race from the stress he was forcing onto you. The regret reflected in the crimson orbs almost made you feel guilty. You had loved him. You had given him years of your love and he shattered in along with your trust. You had spend the week crying till your eyes were swollen, screaming until your lungs begged for a break, pleading with some other worldly being to help you get over this pain, and wondering what you could have done to prevent this from ever happening. To say you didn’t love Bakugou would be a lie. You loved him more than some stupid romance. You loved the way he growled in response when he was bothered, you loved the way he never gives up, you loved his honest laugh in which he truly thought something was funny or enjoyable, you loved the way he would kiss you and run his hand through your hair when he thought you were asleep. You loved and still love so much of him but as you look at him those feelings twist like gnarled tree branches and you feel yourself choking back vomit. When you closed your eyes you could picture a woman running her hands along Bakugou’s exposed body, you could hear them panting and moaning, you could hear the secretive whispers, and you could smell the sweet and salty after sex scent they would leave behind. These things were what you dealt with, they hallucinations that haunted you after his cruel revelation. The cheating wasn’t the only thing haunting you. His hands holding you against your will, his teeth biting into you with no consent, and the fingers that entangled into your hair pulling with enough force to bruise. You had experienced fights before, but this was had been different, you were afraid and disgusted with that version of Bakugou. This Bakugou in front of you was the same one just using sad eyes and words of endearment to trap you so he could lock you up properly and punish you for leaving.

“Y/n… please say something.” The world was moving or at least is seemed like you were a part of the rotation once again. People were watching the two of you, but you didn’t notice. You couldn’t break eye contact. Your lips were pressed so tightly together that you were afraid if you tried to open them, they would be glued shut. A dry mouth and cracking lips prompted you to have to unseal your lips as your drying tongue attempted to rehydrate your lips. What could you say that would make any of this better? Was there anything that could even be said anymore. You wanted this to just stop but didn’t know how to make that happen.

“Pro hero Mind Control has everybody on edge with the news of this important somebody he’s been hiding from us.” The moment you heard Shinsou’s hero name the world was back to normal. Your eyes broke from Bakugou’s turning to look directly at the large screen across the street. Shinsou’s figure stood proudly on the screen before it changed to an interview. You watched the woman across from him ask questions. “So, who is this mystery person that you claim means the world to you. Someone so important that you have taken off a week of hero duties to be with them. “

You were the only person on the street watching this interview play. Mina’s voice once again crossed your ears as she yelled at Bakugou to let you go. Kirishima was going to grab his friend but stopped when you gasped. Bakugou had harshly shook you to return your attention to him. His eyes held a little anger and he seemed to have lost patience. “Y/n –“

“This person is someone I love deeply; someone I’d do anything for. I want her to know what love truly is. I love Y/n L/n. Many of you know her as Hero/name…” The rest of the words faded off as you cried. Bakugou had you at the brink of them but hearing this message broadcast to the world had them freely spilling over. A laugh broke beyond your splitting lips. Your fingers dug into Bakugou’s hands yanking them off you. He looked co conflicted, anger and fear blended. You didn’t care about what he was feeling because you finally felt like something was okay. Your hands covered your mouth as you tried so badly not to squeal. You felt the happiness fade as your wrist was trapped in Bakugou’s grip. He wasn’t going to let you go without a proper answer especially now that the world knew what Shinsou thought of you. “Bakugou please let go of me. This… this is crazy. You need to let me go because I… I’m letting you go.”

Bakugou watched you pull your wrist free. He watched you look up at the screen as it played the end of the interview. A smiling Shinsou stood on the screen giving you the confidence you needed. Bakugou wanted to let you leave but he couldn’t. When he looked at your smile, he couldn’t help remembering the times it was for him. You were his everything and now you were slipping from his fingers and into the arms of another man. You turned away from Bakugou smiling at Mina who was also shedding tears. Kirishima finally moved forward and caught his best friend’s arm. Bakugou looked back at Kirishima who mouthed for him to stop. He quickly looked back at you. You were now wrapped safely in Mina’s arms. The two of you sharing a moment that would live with you forever. He let his shoulders drop before turning around. He shoved off Kirishima’s arm before his hands found a home in his jacket pockets. He left you under the screen, now playing an advertisement for some useless product, hugging your best friend while crying over a happiness that you deserved. He walked away, one million regrets coursing through his veins. The one thing he wouldn’t regret was you.

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

“Where the hell are the rest of the guests.” You rolled your eyes while Momo held your face still. You could hear Mina bitching in the background about the missing members of your former class. She had made sure that everyone had been invited and was keeping tabs of who had arrived. You could hear Uraraka enter the room with an excited scream. She could see your refection in the large mirror in front of you. Mina grabbed onto the girl so they could be over excited together. You felt so much joy watching them feel this happy for you. Momo had been doing you hair and makeup for what felt like hours and you needed to get into the dress hidden behind the bag hanging on the door. You felt a million things; nervousness, excitement, utterly in love. Not once did you feel regret. You could never regret this. You were about to spend the rest of your life with the person that you loved and truly loved you. It had only been six months since the day you and Bakugou had the confrontation in the middle of a busy street, the same one that broadcast the life changing news.

“Y/n!” You turned after the third time your name was yelled. Mina was pouting holding up the dress. She had a shimmer in her eyes and you almost told her not to cry or she’d ruin her makeup. She’d just tell you to shut up. “Yes Mina.”

“It’s time.” All three girls in the room with you had that glossiness to their eyes as they watched you slip the dress on. It fit perfectly, like it was meant to. You were a different person as you stared at your reflection. This was something you had always dreamed about and here you were living a fantasy, but it wasn’t. It was reality. A knock on the door was followed by the voice of Sero. “Let’s get this show on the road ladies.”

The girls opened the door shoving through the waiting boys who were cackling until they saw you. Kaminari pretended to faint while Sero whistled. Both boys admired you and they honestly thought you looked beyond stunning. You were a single star in an almost pitch-black sky, you just needed to walk down an aisle to find another star so you wouldn’t be so lonely. The music started up and you nodded at your best friends. They smiled back leading the way to your destiny.

“Nervous?” Midoriya had whispered to Shinsou as he stood next to him. He looked over the crowd or friends and former classmates. They all watched with bated breath. You were the star of this event. Of course, Shinsou was nervous. He was marrying the girl of his dreams, the person that gave him purpose. Shinsou watched and when you arrived at the end of the aisle, he felt everything disappear. The guests were gone, his friends gone, the whole world meant nothing. It was black and you were the only light he could see. The way your hair was styled held together by pins and clips hidden underneath a white veil. You were a mystery that he already knew everything about. Like a child who still waited for gifts on Christmas but knew Santa wasn’t real. The way your skin shimmered like rare and brilliant gemstones made Shinsou feel like he wasn’t worthy. Your dress moved so smoothly around and against every curve and bump your body had. Your body made the dress gorgeous, gave it value. He couldn’t see your eyes behind the veil, but he could imagine them. They held stars in them, creating galaxies that he had gotten lost in so many times. Your eyes had depth to them, they told a story and its cliché but its his favorite story. Shinsou hadn’t realized he was crying until your hand gently touched his cheek. Your veil had been flipped over your head revealing your own tears. Shinsou leaned into your touch his own hand moving to cup your face as well. If it hadn’t been for the vows, he would have kissed you right then. You both shared a silent moment of unconditional love before the wedding continued.

The vows could have been skipped because anything you both had to say then you had already said before. No words could ever truly describe how you felt about each other because it was more than just words. Your relationship was based on actions, words, looks, gestures; everything and anything you both did for and around the other mattered as an expression of love. He had tried so hard to make up for everything you had to suffer, and he knew that you might have moments where you questioned him, but he always made sure to have answers or words of reassurance. He never wanted to hurt you and he swore on his life that he wouldn’t.

“I do.” You had spoken the binding words and Shinsou followed. The kiss was simple and yet it held so much meaning. It meant more than the rings. It was something Shinsou would never forget. Everyone cheered and some people cried. Mina was holding onto Uraraka both girls sobbing, Midoriya squeezed Shinsou’s shoulder giving him a thumbs up while his own ducts betrayed him.

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

“You look so god damn beautiful.” A drunk Kaminari was hanging off you while you chatted away with guests. Mina yanked him off scolding him for his behavior before shooing him away. You laughed not minding at all. While you stood amongst friends who showered you with congratulations and compliments, Shinsou stood leaning against one of the walls near the bar. He had watched you cherishing these moments. He turned when he heard a familiar voice enter his vicinity. He turned in time to see Kirishima and Bakugou walking toward you. He was quick to make his way back to your side in case of any bad blood. Bakugou scoffed when Shinsou appeared but didn’t give him any attention. You smiled at the blonde and red head. Kirishima told you how happy he was for you before leaving the three of you alone.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes.” It was the simplest exchange you had ever had with Bakugou, but it meant a lot to you both. He needed to know that you had finally found the love and happiness you desired and deserved. You needed to know that he was able to let you go without fight. He nodded and hugged you whispering his congratulations. You thanked him before Momo’s voice came over the speakers announcing the first dance starting. Shinsou waved you to the dance floor promising to join you in a moment. He waited for you to leave before looking at Bakugou. Bakugou waited for a threat or some kind of scolding but nothing came. Shinsou remained silent. Bakugou took this opportunity to speak.

“Thank you for taking care of her. I can tell you make her happy and that’s what really matters.” Shinsou still remained silent and Bakugou continued. “I do have a question though. Y/n said I had been cheating and in an angry moment I basically said I was even though I hadn’t done so. Shitty hair told me you told her you had seen me with some woman. I don’t remember going to that restaurant with anyone other than coworkers or interviewers.”

“I lied.” Bakugou stood there frozen with wide eyes. He slowly turned to catch a glimpse of Shinsou’s smirk and a slight darkness behind his eyes. “I lied to Y/n about seeing you with some broad. I knew she would believe me, and I had my doubts about your faithfulness. I should be thanking you for verifying my lie. You made a single lie into an irrefutable truth all because you wanted to hurt her”

Shinsou walked away heading toward you. He never spared Bakugou a second glance as he grabbed your hands kissing them. You giggled before the music began. Bakugou stood with Shinsou’s reveal on his shoulders. In the end he was the one who destroyed your trust but Shinsou admitted to planting the seed of doubt. But all that mattered now was your happiness, right?

#bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader #mha bakugo katsuki #shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #bnha shinso hitoshi #bnha #bnha shinsou #mha #mha imagines #shinsou hitoshi #bnha imagines

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horrorslashergirl · 4 years

Note

I have a request, since they're open! Anything with the Collector x Reader x Chromeskull. I love that pair! Surprise me with what happens. Preferably angst.

The Collector x Reader x Chromeskull- Hazardous Toxicity

Authors Note: Getting some practice with angsty scenarios and these two see to fit the picture, because what’s not toxic about being in a relationship with a serial killer, neverthless with two of them.

Warning: Toxic Polyamorous Relationship

Words: 2.2k

You had a peculiar taste in men and that went with the fact that you didn't like routine or having a normal relationship with a normal guy with a normal job and a normal hobby. Normal wasn't an adjective or characteristic you were attracted to.

If you could describe what your preference in men was, you would start by saying that you always liked them older, maybe because you had enough of going on dates with guys your age that talked about the same topics; college, sports, nothing that would really spark a certain interest, but alas you were glad at the end of the date they preferred to remain just friends. Easier to get out and not make an awkward scene and probably explain why there was no chemistry.

The past relationships you had were to put it nicely, acceptable. The guys always let you take the lead; you ordered the food, you decided what movie to watch, what to do on a certain date. To be always in charge was tiring and you felt kind of empty. There was no excitement what so ever.

So, imagine the actual relationship you were having now. Never in your life would you predict that you would end up in a polyamorous relationship with two men that were much older than you. It was just a fantasy, one that turned out to be real.

To say that your partners were quite unique would be just an easy saying; they always stood out of the crowd, maybe one of the reasons you were so intrigued by them, but they were that type of standing out like 'He's so handsome and fuckable type'. Well, in your opinion, yes, but in your friends and people that knew you, they were downright intimidating. Possible another plus in your attractiveness book.

They had that certain vibe that if they wanted to crush someone's skull, they would do it, not that you minded because, in a certain twisted way, you felt protected because Lord helps the poor soul that would have the guts to hurt you.

At the beginning of the relationship, everyone said that you should be careful, be vigilant because you don't know them well; they were mysterious to say so, never putting all the cards down for you to see, making your stay on your toes and your mind always to wander to their personas. That was what made you be drawn to them, they excited your mind and the intimacy?

You never knew how much pleasure exists, nevertheless with two men like them. They always made you crave more, your legs turning to jelly and mind a mess, all morals flying out the window and letting your carnal instincts take over.

Everything was perfect because you felt cherished, they always treated you with all kinds of surprises, and sometimes it felt like they were competing for your affection and attention; the perks of having two alpha males.

They also had their differences, despite how similar Jesse and Asa were. Jesse was an extrovert, while Asa was an introvert. Despite Jesse being mute he always found himself teasing you, be it at first using the electronic reader and later on suggestive signing after you got better with ASL. Asa could speak very loud and clear but chose not to, only if he had something to say, which always was accompanied by an authoritative tone, more or less.

Both are very highly intellectual and that showed; Asa being a successful entomologist at the university and the many degrees and diplomas on the wall of his office spoke for him, not to mention how much he knew about history and art. Jesse was nothing less either, with running a successful chroming company, being a highly respected and feared CEO and it always amazed you how much he knew about information technology.

So basically your type was experienced, tall, intimidating, and smart.

After being for some time in the relationship, your known one always said that they were controlling you, which at first made you confused about this statement, wondering from where they deducted that.

Maybe you were a little blind, not able to see how they chose for you what to wear, what to eat, how you should do your hair. You saw them as a suggestion, but the ones outside begged to differ.

There also came a hard time when you were having trouble at your job, the economy was going down, your boss had to cut salaries and you couldn't afford to pay rent, not to mention that you needed to over-work; extra hours staying at work meant less time spending with your lovers.

They suggest that you should move in with them, switching from Asa's house to Jesse's depending on when they weren't working, plus they made you give up on your job, explaining how the money wasn't even covering how much you worked.

You agreed; maybe the lack of sleep, too much frustration, and injustice conducted you to agree with their proposition.

They took care of all your needs, be them material, spiritual or physical; they delivered it. You couldn't argue on that, but slowly, without you realizing it, they made you be dependent on them, seeking them whenever you felt like, but you were always the submissive, they owned the power and you only basked it what they emanated.

The apex of this relationship came when darker secrets came out because your curiosity got the better of you, not going to work that left you a lot of time to think and brown-noose into their stuff and business; the biggest mistake of your life, much worse than entering this hazardous relationship.

The first time your eyes looked over a photo-album of Asa's, you expected to see family photos, since he never brought this subject, you were interested in it, but seeing all the gruesome photos, you never thought a human could be shaped like this? This had to be some sick joke, right? But it wasn't.

You haven't told Asa about it or tried to question him, making sure you put the album exactly where it was. You debated if you should tell Jesse since Asa had to do some entomology related work for the weekend and you stayed by Jesse's house, but he had to go to work too, something about an unannounced meeting, leaving you to spend time all alone into his enormous house, so again curiosity got the best of you.

If you thought that Asa's photo album was gruesome, then the tapes you found in Jesse's Chrysler inside the glove box and trunk were sure going to give you nightmares.

You were pacing in Jesse's living room, drinking some whiskey to calm your nerves because you were sure that a breakdown was going to come, then it hit you. All the missing people, the murders on the news; you played detective and pin-pointed everything.

It all came down to you, the harsh reality; all the false sense of safeness and affection, it was pure-down manipulation, the undercover controlling that you were too blind to see because you were like a love-struck puppy to them.

The solution was simple; break up this relationship.

That's what you did, you wrote down a quick note, not explaining why you were leaving them, you just wanted to getaway. You left Jesse's place and walked for half an hour. Where? You didn't know, you had nowhere to go because all your friends left you; some that decided you were a lost cause, others too afraid of your men.

You had so much money just to stay at a cheap hostel for some days, but it was better than sleeping in a bus station on a dirty bench. Maybe you will go back to your parents? You didn't have a plan in mind.

The first night you couldn't sleep, not only because the bed was very much uncomfortable and the people in the room next to you were making too much noise, but because you felt like they were always watching; you were getting paranoid.

The next day, you managed to get some sleep in the morning, sleeping until it was the afternoon, the growl of your stomach waking you up. You walked to a cheap restaurant across the hostel, and as you took the first bite of the scrambled eggs and a little too burnt sausages, you grimaced.

Too accustomed to five-star meals and champagne, doll?

Alas, you swallowed down, reminding yourself that luxury wasn't an option in your current predicament. You sipped on the bitter coffee, the taste as truthful as the relationship which you ended, the dark liquid waking you up, and everything pouring down on you; it was only a game. The affection was only a camouflage for the twisted intentions, the protectiveness only possession.

After sitting there for hours and the waitress telling you that if you wouldn't order anything else you should leave, you walked back towards the hostel, walking upstairs to your room, entering and closing the door behind you, you were ready to hit the bed again, only to stop dead in your tracks when your gaze meets long black-clad legs, eyes moving up over the black clothes and wide chest and stopping on a bone-chilling chromed skull mask.

The bald head and tall frame of the mad was a dead giveaway to who he was, and when you heard heavy footsteps behind you, you knew who the second person was behind you, but your mind didn't want to acknowledge the scenario.

"Going somewhere?" the calm and familiar voice asked behind you, feeling Asa stop behind you, just a few inches away from his chest to press against your back.

'Piggy has been naughty.' Jesse signed, making your gut twist at the nickname he gave you.

"I-I...." you didn't know what to say, afraid of saying anything when your eyes saw Jesse twirl a large knife, clearly amused by your face that showed fear.

"You what? Trying to break things off without a specific motive?" Asa asked into your ear, gloved hands grasping your hips into a bruising grip, fingers digging into your skin behind your shirt.

Of course, they found out you were sneaking where your nose shouldn't be. Asa knew where everything he owned was, so it was no surprise when he found the photo album a little out of place, and Jesse? You cursed yourself for forgetting that he had security cameras all over his place.

Jesse moved off the couch and stalked towards you, looking down at your form and at this moment you really hated how tall and imposing of a figure he had. You were turned around and pressed to his chest, your eyes ready to meet Asa's face, only to be masked by a black-foam mask, making him look so very menacing, like a very dangerous spider.

You felt Jesse trail the tip of his knife up and down your thigh, his masked face pressing against the top of your head.

"You know what I am most curious about?" Asa asked, pulling out a knife of his own and trailing the blunt edge over your neck, the cold blade making your breath hitch.

"Any person in your situation would have called us in." he answered for you.

That's when it hit you, your eyes widening. Any person in their right mind would have gone directly to the police, telling them everything, you had enough proof to put them behind bars for the rest of their lives, but you hid out like a rabbit, ready for the wolves to find you.

"Aren't you such a loyal pet?" Asa murmured in your ear, the knife nicking your collarbone a little, feeling his hot breath and rough texture of his mask hit your skin.

'Someone has a little crush.' the electronic voice from Jesse's phone spoke, making you more aware of what was happening.

"P-Please....I won't tell anyone." you whispered, closing your eyes as you felt Jesse move his knife up and down on your inner thigh.

"I'm sure you won't. It would be a shame to kneecap you, queen bee." Asa said, sadistic promises behind the cruel words.

You whimpered at the nickname, one it used to make you smile brightly and nuzzle into his chest, feeling so loved and appreciated, but now it made you sick to the stomach.

'Very big shame to destroy such a cute face.' Jesse added, pulling his knife away only for his nitrile covered hand to come up and cup your cheek, running his thumb over your soft skin.

"Are you going to come home with us or do we have to train you through?" Asa asked, question rhetorical and by Gods, you didn't want to find out what it means 'training' in his mind.

Swallowing down, you nodded, doe-like eyes on his obsidian ones, his plush lips pulled into a winning lop-sided smile, then his lips pressed against your forehead, making you tremble a little.

Asa pulled away from you, walking towards the door, opening it. You were pushed forward by Jesse, who wrapped one long arm around your shoulder, making sure you wouldn't try to run away, not like you would get too far away.

As you passed the small reception you saw the owner of the hostel dead, into a pool of blood with his guts out.

This was a warning that this was not a childish game.

The meaning was simple; Try breaking things off with them and they will break your legs.

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