#do you guys know how many fics I could have churned out by now if I was putting my writing energy into that instead of these asks

[cherrychilli]

18+ Living painting! Steve x F! reader, supernatural AU, monsterfucking (kind of), lil bit of angst, mentions of blood, mentions of bodily injury, oral sex (f), allusions to unprotected PIV sex

WC: 2.9K

A/N: So, I found the painting in the middle on Pinterest and couldn't help thinking that he looked pretty similar to Steve and this happened to be during the time I became interested in writing a monsterfucking fic of my own. It all kind of fell into place that night and I pretty much fell in love with the idea of a Steve who's a literal work of art that comes to life at night and becomes your secret supernatural boyfriend💛 I'm still figuring these two out but this is what I've come up with so far. Enjoy!

One week had passed and the remains of the old picture frame still sat in the waste basket in your kitchen, the ends of splintered poplar jutting up and out of the rim like jagged teeth.

It taunted you like a sneer but you made no move to empty it. Not until you knew for certain if he'd come back or not.

The new frame you'd selected was made of polished, treated pinewood. Sturdy and reliable, you were assured. You only hoped your glassy eyes had nothing to do with how strongly the sales lady had urged you of the frame's durability. Anything to clear you out before the other customers noticed the beginnings of tears wetting your lashes, a part of you suspected.

But the brand-new frame felt firm in your trembling hands. Solid. Sleek. Unbreakable, you hoped. Now all you had to do was wait while doing your best to disregard the many whispers of your neighbors as you passed by them in your apartment building.

"He must have found someone better", Mrs. Owens had muttered haughtily to her husband as you departed the elevator after exchanging forced smiles with the older couple, never knowing how close she'd come to having one of her gaudy gold earrings ripped right out of her lobe had you not managed to contain yourself at the last second.

"I think they might have broken up", you caught Tiffany from 20F's whisper directed at her boyfriend when you walked by them in the hallway, their tight, sympathetic smiles making your stomach churn as you hauled in your grocery bags containing only beer, instant noodles and a pack of cigarettes. The first pack you'd touched in a long time.

"Seriously? I never even got a look at the guy", he'd whispered back to her in a whine.

Sometimes you wondered what kind of image they'd conjured up of Steve. After all, there's only so much you can imagine when all you have to go by is what you can sometimes hear through the walls of your apartment.

~

That night, you stared at his painting while you sat at the foot of your bed like you had every night for the past week, waiting.

The rip in the canvas that ran up the length of his forearm stared back at you. Looking at it made your own arm sting, like fishing hooks in your skin.

Around you, your apartment had fallen into clutter but you didn't dare try to dust or clean again until you knew for certain if what you'd done had ruined everything for good or not.

"Please come back", you chanted under your breath as the minutes passed, waiting as patiently as you could for 12.00am to arrive. You hoped he'd come out of his frame like he had all those nights before. You hoped those brushstrokes would warp into flesh and blood once again despite the unintended gash marring the painting's canvas. You hoped to feel his warmth under your fingertips tonight.

You craved it.

You needed it.

But he doesn't come.

The clock ticks past 12.10am and you let your eyes slip shut before the tears start again.

~

When you wake, you see that the time’s 12.56am once you'd managed to blink the sleep fog away from your eyes, finding a sheet draped over your body and your cheek resting on a pillow you hadn't placed there yourself.

Springing up, your throat grows tight, like rope around your windpipe and you very nearly choke at the sight of the empty framed canvas hanging on your bedroom wall, nothing but swathes of buttery yellows, whites and greys pictured where there once was a pale brunette in the foreground too.

The five inch long cut that'd been made when the painting had scraped against the edge of your dresser was absent from the canvas as well, you notice, frantically kicking off your sheets to begin searching your apartment.

He's peacefully clearing up in the kitchen when you find him, a fresh kitchen towel wrapped securely around his forearm but you can see the blood stains seeping through the pale blue cotton from where you stand.

"You're out of bandages", he smiles when he sees you and it nearly makes your knees buckle, the doorframe holding you up as you lean against it for support.

"Does it hurt?", you manage to ask, eyeing the bloodied towel sadly, guilt scraping at you from the inside out like a saw grinding against your bones. It was all your fault.

"Barely", he answers and you almost believe him. Almost.

It's Steve who crosses the distance first because your legs have grown too weak to do so, reaching out with his injured arm to cup your cheek lovingly.

He notices too late that the blood from his wound has managed to trail down to his thumb. A crimson thumbprint stains your cheek and he attempts to wipe it away from your skin but you stop him before he has the chance.

"Don't", you plead. You didn't want to wipe that trace of him away, not after thinking you'd lost him. Not when you want to wear it on you like rubies.

"I could see you the whole time", he tells you, looking all kinds of apologetic for the worry he’d caused you. "Wanted to tear through that damn frame and be with you. I needed to hold you and tell you that I was okay – that you didn't need to cry anymore but this–" he clutches his injured arm. "I don't know why I couldn't come out sooner– I don't understand this– I still don't understand this", he gestures to himself and it's with a deep pang of sympathy that you understand his frustration.

His entire existence was an anomaly. For all the months you had spent together since you'd first discovered him, the both of you were yet to know how it was that Steve came to be. What had brought him to life? what other kinds of limitations were there? what did this all mean for your relationship? The thing is, none of these questions would be answered tonight because none them mattered to you right now. He was here again and that's all that really mattered.

"We don't have to. Not right away at least", you tell him, fisting the front of his white shirt with your hands, clutching him. "Just promise me you'll always come back", you plead softly, voice cracking as you sniff back a sob.

Smiling again, Steve cradles your face with both hands then, returning your adoring gaze with his mossy, cinnamon eyes. "I promise."

You're quick to lean into him after that, your arms winding tight around his waist as his drop lower to wrap around your back, pulling you in closer as you hold each other for a while.

It's no ordinary embrace. You spend those few blissful minutes memorizing every detail; his scent, his warmth, the gentle beat of his heart as you press your cheek to his chest, relishing all the little things about him that you thought you'd lost forever.

And then you're reminded of his injury, the thin, still bleeding slash running down his arm that the two of you are yet to attend to.

"Let me patch you up", you pull back to look up into his eyes, thinking of the spare first aid kit you had tucked away somewhere deep in your closet.

He only smiles back at you in that way that makes it impossible not to feel so cherished, like you’re the only thing he’ll ever treasure in this strange life he’s been granted.

"Later."

Gently, Steve interlaces his fingers with yours, pulling you into the kitchen and guiding you towards the kitchen dining table.

You watch closely as he pushes the clutter that'd gathered there off the table with his free hand, letting the empty grocery bags and more fall to the floor. You don't even have it in you to feel ashamed of the mess, too relieved to have him back, too pleased to give yourself to Steve as he wraps his large hands around the back of your thighs, lifting you up and placing you down on your table with your legs dangling off the edge.

Neither of you are surprised when things begin to take on a feverish, needy haze as your legs spread further for him to step between. His hands find the hem of your old, oversized t-shirt so he can pull it up over your bare breasts and over your head, stripping you of it and tossing it aside, leaving you in just your panties.

Five and a half hours remain until the sun is due to come up and he'll have to climb back into frame again.

It just doesn't feel like enough.

With how badly you've missed him this past week you feel like you'll need an hour just to kiss him, another to let him explore you, one more for you to return the favor and the rest to wrap yourselves around each other – both of you connected, exchanging the same shaky breath back and forth, fanning the flames of each other’s' fire as you take him so deep inside that you'll carry the forthcoming soreness between your legs with a smile.

For now, though, Steve's kisses start off slow and lazy. Soft licks swipe along your bottom lip before you grant him entry into your mouth and his tongue finds yours, wrapping around it all languid and sloppy. It doesn't take long for him to begin sucking on it gently, eagerly swallowing down the many moans that rise up from your throat when his fingers start to pinch and pull at your hardened nipples.

It's impossible to keep from squirming when he touches you like this, knowing exactly where you're most sensitive and how best to stimulate you. It almost feels like he's weaponized all the knowledge he’s accrued during your time together, circling your nipples with his thumbs, bringing you right up to the cusp of just enough but purposefully withholding more – dangling your pleasure out of arm's reach

Unable to tame your greed because, how could you? how could anyone after what you’ve been through? you try to seek out more. You arch your back and push your chest out to meet Steve’s hands but all that does is make him pull away from your lips, a gentle chuckle working its way up his throat.

"Not yet, baby, not yet. Be a good girl and I'll treat you right."

You’re just about ready to pout and give him your most imploring, desperate Bambi eyes but he attaches himself to your neck next, teeth grazing your pulse point, lips forming a tight seal on your skin as he sucks fresh hickeys on to the surface.

Head lolling back, you can already imagine the sour scowl sure to twist Mrs. Owens' face when she sees the result of Steve’s work tomorrow, a grin emerging on your face as you plan to display the hickeys proudly instead of make any kind of effort to conceal them later.

But just as quickly as the thought had emerged, it falls to the wayside as Steve begins to grow less gentle, his lips leaving your neck as he urges you to lay your back flat against the table. Your own touches are growing more insistent as you help him rid himself of his shirt too, running your hands up the plane of his soft stomach, fingers trailing through his thick chest hair, loving the way it tickles your palms when you do so.

Leaning over you, he begins his descent down your body by pressing one last hot kiss at your neck and then two more between your breasts and on your stomach, gently pushing your knees further apart as he brings his mouth closer to your clothed cunt. You yield to him easily, soft and pliant under his touch like a bud unfurling its petals, ready to bloom. Your breath catches as his lips kiss up your inner thigh, his tongue seeking out your core, dragging over the damp cotton of your panties when he finds it.

Your reaction is instantaneous, hips twitching and whining for him just how he likes when he hooks his finger around the gusset of your panties, pulling it up so that it sinks firmly between your folds. The bump of your swollen clit is so obvious and easy to find underneath the stretched-out fabric and the curls between your legs peek out around the now tight, narrow strip of material. It feels so vulgar when he plays with you like this – so right because you’ve come to love it so much, even to the point you can’t imagine being touched any other way.

“Steve”, you can’t help the high-pitched rasp your voice has taken on, hips twitching again when he smirks and pulls on your panties hard enough for the material to drag over your clit and make you yelp.

And even now, when you're both so desperate for each other, he takes the time to tease you – loving the way you try to urge him on by wiggling your hips and the near pitiful way you whimper out "please".

"I promise. I'm going to treat you so good, sweetheart. Can you hold on a little longer for me, please? I know baby, I know – I just need to play with her a little bit first, okay? Gonna have my tongue on you soon", he coos sweetly in an attempt to placate you as he reaches for the waistband of your panties next.

You lift up your hips to help him get them off, a fresh flare of heat surging through your cheeks when you notice how he has to peel the sticky cotton from your cunt, catching sight of the glistening webs of slick that stretch from your pussy lips to your ruined underwear.

That self-conscious burn doesn’t remain for very long though because during your time together you've learned that Steve likes it messy. So, you're not surprised when you look up to find his face bright with delight, spreading your legs again once he's got your panties off from around your ankles, placing his thumbs on either side of your puffy lips and pulling you open.

"That's my girl", he mutters, his face so close you can feel his breath fan over your naked cunt. “So beautiful.”

He watches your wet hole clench and flex with an unquenchable fascination while you prop yourself up on your elbows and bite down on your lip, both of you unblinking when he gently pulls up your hood to get a good look at your throbbing clit.

“Aw baby. You’ve needed me badly, haven’t you?”, he looks up from between your legs, licking the pad of his thumb before pressing it against your swelling clit to rub slow circles into the sensitive bead.

You sigh out blissfully at the much-needed stimulation, thankful for it as your toes curl and you begin to nod your head. “Missed you so much”, you tell him through a whimper, nails dragging across varnished walnut.

At your admission, you see him reach between his legs to rub at the tent in his pants, lightly grinding his crotch into his palm for some relief. "I missed you too”, he tells you earnestly, letting loose a deep groan that makes your belly twist and somersault with want.

Watching him only makes the ache between your own legs worse and as if sensing that, Steve gathers your thighs in each hand, placing them over his shoulders.

"I'll never make you wait again", he promises, leaning down low, his tongue slipping inside where you needed him most and just like that, after a week of feeling utterly fractured, like you were nothing more than a collection of shattered pieces in shambles, you’re suddenly made whole once again.

~

You hated that he couldn't stay with you in bed, both of you naked, sweaty and sticky, legs tangled together. Steve’s chest is practically pasted to your back as you both lay on your side, his arms around your waist, his soft cock against your bare ass, his cum leaking from between your legs and his lips busy at your neck.

His cut has stopped bleeding too, you were relieved to notice, a layer of scar tissue already forming in its place. Add that to the list of peculiar things you were yet to understand about Steve.

With a quick glance at the clock that shifts into a glare, you realize how quickly Steve must leave you with only ten minutes left until sun up. You wanted those minutes to stretch on as slowly as molasses, anything to keep him here beside you just a little longer.

"Let me help you clean up in here tomorrow", he kisses your cheek, pulling you away from the previous bitter thought.

You can still smell yourself on his lips the same way you're sure he can probably smell himself on yours, your tongue heavy with the taste of his spend as you keep swirling the muscle up against the roof of your mouth, sucking the remnants from it.

"Okay", you sigh contently, nuzzling your cheek against your pillow, pressing yourself against his naked form a little more.

"Don't drop me again, okay?", he chuckles against your skin like he can’t help it, his warm breath fanning over you.

You’re quick to pinch him on one of the arms he’s got wrapped around your waist. "Don't even joke about that. I thought I lost you", you turn to face him with a pout, one he's quick and plenty eager to kiss away with a smile.

"You didn't. You won't. I'm yours, always."

[leviscolwill]

good old fashioned lover boy

pairing: trent alexandrer arnold x reader

summary: trent loves that you and jude get along, but he wants to make sure he still holds the #1 spot in your heart [wc: 1k]

req: request for a fluffy trent fic: jude is always over at trent & reader’s house, eating their food, bringing his friends over, begging to join them on outings etc. and generally acting like their kid. so ofc reader & jude are close, he goes to her advice, they tease trent togeth etc. and trent is jealous that jude gets long w his girl so we’ll but not actually jealous, more in a pouty whiny way, cos he knows jude is like a little bro to her

contents: established relationship, food mention, jealous trent (but it's cute)

note: i tried suppressing my lowercase addiction for this, tell me if you prefer it this way 🫶

now playing: good old fashioned lover boy by queen...

The warmth of your home protected you from October's cold. Trent had planned to spend the day snuggled in bed watching spooky movies and baking Halloween cookies with you.

Well, that was the plan until Jude passed your door. Trent wouldn't be able to say one bad thing about Jude even if he tried, he'd been there for him during tough times. No matter how hard you tried to empathize with Trent, Jude was probably the one friend who could understand his struggles surrounding football the most. Very quickly the pair grew close, almost family-like, and Jude would come over yours, often. You didn't mind, how could you? Jude was nothing short of lovely, he was a funny guy to be around and probably your boyfriend's favourite friend.

But you didn't expect him to crash one of the rare free days you got to spend with Trent. And neither did Trent, from the way his eyes widened when he opened the door to a smiley Jude. Your favourite Disney soundtracks were still blasting in the kitchen while you were mixing your cookie batter.

“Oh, are you cooking these for me?” Jude's voice made you turn around to see him standing in your kitchen with a big smile, your boyfriend trailing behind him.

“Depends, do you have good news to give me?” Trent's face contorted in confusion but Jude totally understood what you meant by the giggle he let out.

“I'll tell you all about it if those cookies are worth it.”

He recently came up to you for advice on how he should ask the girl he liked out. The fact Jude trusted you enough to share this with you made you happy, talking to him was like talking to a younger brother.

Trent knew about the girl his friend fancied of course, but he was absolutely clueless about him asking you for advice. Hearing you two talk so casually, made him feel left out. He knew how stupid this sounded, you were his girlfriend and Jude one of his best mates, but he couldn't help but feel his stomach churn from your closeness.

Trent wasn't jealous. He trusted you and Jude with his life. But he couldn't help feeling his friend was stealing the precious time he could have spend with his girlfriend, and he felt awful about this.

You were your own person, and he was very much aware of that, but he couldn't help spiralling. What if Jude was better company than him? What if he made you laugh in ways he couldn't?

His thoughts came to a halt when you pressed a quick kiss near his lips, “These should be done in 30 minutes, are you alright T? You look a bit off.” The concerned look in your eyes made him forget everything, his hand found yours to press a kiss on it.

“I'm fine baby, don't worry about it.” No matter how much Trent tried to reassure you, you knew something was off with him and made a mental note to ask him about it when you would be alone.

After many Fifa games between Jude and your boyfriend and six chapters of your books read, the cookies were ready. The three of you sat down and you intently watched their reactions to your baking, knowing damn well neither of them would be able to hide their real thoughts.

“These are very good love.” Your boyfriend complimented with his mouth half full while Jude stuck out his thumb up.

“So... Are you gonna tell me what happened with Mia?” A frown appeared on Trent's face again at your words.

“What's even all that about?” He tried his best to hide any animosity in his voice but it didn't work from the way Jude and you looked at him with wide eyes.

“I asked your girl for advice to ask Mia on a date, nothing more mate.” You could tell Jude was being cautious with his words, fearing his friend would get the wrong idea.

Trent ran his hand on his face, “I know. This is stupid, sorry.”

You stayed silent and went to the kitchen telling the boys you had to clean it up to cover the fact you wanted to flee this weird atmosphere.

You stayed a while looking at your phone, and when you looked up you saw Jude and Trent in front of your front door talking together, your boyfriend's hand laying on Jude's shoulder before pulling him in a hug.

The younger boy noticed you staring, and winked at you with both his eyes before whispering something to Trent's ear, something that made him turn around to look at you with a smile. You quickly turned around pretending to be interested in something else to hide the fact you were caught red-handed pretty much spying on them.

When the door finally closed, Trent's hands found your waist and spun you around. You started speaking before he could try to himself. “I'm sorry for not telling you I was speaking with Jude, but I swea-”, Trent's lips on yours cut you off, you felt your shoulders relax from this action.

“No, I am sorry. This was stupid, I just really wanted to spend the day with you, only you, I mean. I actually love the fact that you get along with Jude, but I just don't want you to like his company better than mine y’know.” His words relieved you, your pointer finger booped his nose as he let a giggle escape his lips.

“Trent, don't be silly. I love hanging out with Jude but if I could, I would spend every single minute of my life with you. Now... should we start watching The Prisoner of Azkaban?”

Trent led you to your shared bedroom, fingers intertwined to snuggle under the sheets. The both of you perfectly content and satisfied with each other's company.

taglist: @ceofmercedes <3 @zowanew <3

[cissyenthusiast010155]

don't know if you're doing reqs but Lady Lesso x Fem!Reader with prompt 32?

Heyyyy anon! I DO take and love requests, so thank you for asking 🥰 I’d love to write this!!

Drunk on You ~Leonora Lesso xFem Reader

Link to Part 2, Part 3 & Part 4

Mommy…Master List

Prompt-List

#32. “Drink if you’ve masturbated to anyone at the table”.

Warnings: NSFW, alcohol, drinking, mentions of sex, implied sex, smut, etc.

Medium fic

Enjoy (;

Clarissa had decided that a girls night was needed. She said that she wanted to “unify the girls” of both sides of the school, whatever that meant.

Turns out, what that meant was drinking games in the school library after hours.

“Alright! We’re all here, perfect! Now, we can bond as females and not just Ever versus Never teachers!” Clarissa excitedly exclaimed.

Leonora sighed, as if she was already over Clarissa’s antics. The groups consisted of Clarissa and Anemone, two female Ever professors, and you and Lady Lesso, two female Never professors.

Soon, everyone was in some stage of tipsy, Clarissa being the most drunk already.

“Can’t hold your alcohol?” Lesso chuckled, sipping her glass of straight vodka.

“Enough of this!” Clarissa exclaimed, “Let’s play… Never have I Ever! Get it, cuz it have the words “Never” and “Ever” in it?” Clarissa desperately and drunkenly laughed at her own joke, but then became very serious about playing.

“Just take a Shot if you’ve done what the prompt is. Ok I’ll start.” She began, “Never have I ever… Stolen a book from the library!”

“Really…?” Lesso said unamused as she drained her magically filled shot glass in an instant.

You quickly took your shot, followed by Anemone.

“Anemone, really??” Clarissa exclaimed with surprise, “I mean I get those guys, but you?”

Anemone nodded with a sly smirk on her face.

“Whatever I guess…” Clarissa shrugged her shoulders, “Your turn Anemone.”

Anemone had a look on her face which made your stomach churn, she had something up her sleeve you could tell…

With that sly smirk she spoke, “Drink if you’ve masturbated to anyone at the table”.

Your heart dropped.

Shit. Fuck.

“No wait Anemone!!” Clarissa drunkenly groaned, “You need to say ‘Never have I Ever’ first!”

Anemone shrugged her shoulders, “Same thing.”

By now you were blushing. You couldn’t avoid this. They would know you where lying if you didn’t, wouldn’t they?

Regardless, you just took the shot.

And then silence ensued.

For a bout three seconds before Clarissa was bouncing up in down, “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!!!” she squealed, “Who is it?? Now you just have to tell us!!”

You’re face grew even redder…

You couldn’t say… She would never reciprocate… True Love wasn’t possible for Nevers, was it?

“Uh… I don’t believe, according to the rules, I need to answer that question…” you managed to get out.

“New rules!” Clarissa exclaimed, “You have to tell us! There, there’s a rule, now.”

Leonora chuckled as she leaned back and watched the show.

Your face grew hot and your thoughts instinctually squeezed together. You couldn’t say. You wouldn’t say.

But your drunken mind got the better of you…

“It was Leonora..” you chocked out in a slight whimper.

Leonora’s eyes widened a bit and her back straightened at your words. Clarissa and Anemone we’re at a loss for words. You had just admitted to touching yourself to the fucking dean of evil…

Lesso leaned in, “How many times?”, she tauntingly played.

You gulped.

“Many…” you whispered.

“What was that?” Lesso raised her voice, torturing you in this humiliating moment.

“At least three times a week…” you clarified, instantly regretting that decision, because now you had admitted to getting off on the idea of your boss on a almost daily occurrence.

Leonora hummed in delight. “Wonderful. But wouldn’t it be even better if it were my fingers inside you instead of yours?” she suggestively toyed with you.

Your breath fled your body. You couldn’t move or think or breath.

“Yes…” you whimpered and almost mewled.

“Well then beg me for it. Beg me for it and I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll see stars and not remember your own name…” she growled, “Beg me and I’ll fuck you dumb…”

You gulped again.

“I think this is our cue to leave…” Anemone said, hurriedly rushing a drunken Clarissa out of the library.

“Fuck please… please fuck me, Leonora…” you begged.

Lesso hummed in delight again.

She came over to you, vodka on her breath and growled into your ear, “My room, 10 minutes.”

pt. 2 out now😏

[the-iceni-bitch]

Through Every Forest

Chapter III: Do as You’re Told

Relationship: dark!Alpha Curtis Everett x fem!Omega Reader

Words: ~3.5k

Summary: You don’t want to give in to Curtis, and he’s starting to get pissed off.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (vaginal fingering, pussy spanking, squirting, dubious consent, mention of foreign object penetration), dark fic, A/B/O dynamics, Curtis is very mean, Stockholm Syndrome, violence, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: They’re starting to fall for each other you guys, it’s a toxic love story!!

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

“Don’t give me that fucking look, girl.” Curtis’s jaw ticked as he clenched it when you glared at him, grabbing your arm in a bruising grip once you finally ducked your head like you were cowed and dragging you into your plush chambers. “Now get in the tub.”

“You’re a fucking bastard.” You hissed when he slapped you before ripping off your shift, still getting in the tub as he instructed even as you tried to remain sullen.

“Yeah, I am, but you don’t get to say so.” Curtis shoved you under the water unceremoniously, ignoring your spluttering when you resurfaced as he rolled up his sleeves and grabbing the soap that had been left so he could lather up his hands. “You have to be nice to me, filly.”

“Fuck you.” You wanted to spit on him, growling when he started to rub the soap into your arm instead and leaning back against the edge of the tub. “Why did you show me that?”

You had been worried when he didn’t immediately take you back to the lodge after your hunt, shivering and chewing your lip even when you told you there wasn’t any reason to be nervous, he just wanted you to see something. And what you saw had made your gut churn, especially since you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away.

“You really don’t know?” Curtis snorted when your only response was a pout, scrubbing your other arm thoroughly then giving you a stern look. “Lean forward.”

What he had to show you was the fate of one of the used up Omegas, some dead eyed, pathetic doll of a man who could barely even talk after how many times he’d had bonds removed. The way your eyes had widened as soon as you realized what you were seeing had put the biggest grin on Curtis’s face, not even needing to watch that poor bastard take six cocks at once to get hard when your scent was filling his lungs and you were squirming against him like you were fighting the arousal he could smell from you.

“You wanted to show me how good I have it.” You gritted your teeth when he started washing your back, wanting nothing so much as to pull your knees up to your chest and curl in on yourself. “That it could be worse for me.”

“Close, but not quite.” He grabbed the back of your neck so he could yank you back into your seated upright position, tutting when you got that stubborn look in your eyes as he started to wash your chest after lathering up his hands again. “How did you feel when you saw that poor, used and abused Omega getting the shit fucked out of him?”

“Disgusted.” You tried not to shiver when his hands cupped your breasts, ignoring the way your stomach did a little flip when he rolled your nipples through his fingers. “It was horrible.”

“What have I told you about fucking lying to me?” Curtis bit back a groan when you whimpered at him pinching your nipples and tugging on them harshly, knowing that your tight little cunt was throbbing under the water since he’d broken you so many times by now. “You liked it.”

You just shook your head before gasping when he smacked your tit, trying not to wriggle when your cunt pulsed and the water between your thighs got even warmer. The fact that you spread your legs wider when he slipped one hand under the water made you want to cringe, but then his fingers were between your petals and he was playing with your clit and all your hindbrain wanted was to submit to the Alpha.

“See? This sweet little Omega hole got all slick and hot when you saw that bitch taking it.” His finger slid inside you and he growled when your head dropped back with a whine, stroking the roof of your cunt while you fluttered around him. “Because it wasn’t you. Because he was fucking weak and pathetic, but not you. Not my girl. My girl is strong, and smart, and wouldn’t just give it up for some pussy Alpha that didn’t deserve it. That’s what I wanted to show you, that you fucking thrive off winning the hunt, and that you should. Now keep being my good girl and come for me.”

Curtis bit his lip when you let yourself go, leaning forward to scent your hair while you shuddered and cried while he kept working your fluttering pussy with his fingers until you were wrung out. You hated the fact that you preened when he kissed your temple, turning to tuck your face into his shoulder and weeping uncontrollably while he rubbed your back to help soothe you.

“It’s okay, let it all out.” He hushed you softly when your body kept shaking with sobs, scooping you out of the water and wrapping you in a towel while you looked at him with red eyes and let him rub you dry before he was holding your face in his hands while you sniffed. “Pretty girl, you feel better?”

You just nodded at him while he pulled back the covers for you, crawling under them and curling your body up while he tucked you in. He leaned over to give your hair another kiss once you had settled, squatting so his eyes were level with yours and gently pushing your hair away from your face.

“And you’re gonna be good for the next hunt and try your best to kill the asshole I send after you?” Curtis smiled when you nodded again, turning your light off before walking to the door that joined your rooms to his. “You rest up, filly. Gonna give you a week off for being so good. I’ll see you for your walk tomorrow, maybe get you a new book.”

You perked up as much as you could when you heard the door open, rubbing your cheek against the blanket you had been placing in your nest and mewling softly when Curtis walked in. He had the leash with him, and that made you pout, wanting to finish your nest and get some sleep before you had to run tonight.

“I know, filly, but I want those muscles nice and warmed up before your hunt.” Curtis beamed when you just sniffed in annoyance when he reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear and refused to meet his eyes. “But you’ve been so good the past two weeks, can I trust you if I don’t put on the cuffs?”

“Fine.” Petulance seemed to be the last shred of fight you could hold onto, glaring at Curtis even as you tilted your head back to let him fasten the collar around your throat. You definitely weren’t going to try anything, though, the memory of the one time you had managed to get away from him then gotten fucked in the open with one of the guard’s batons still fresh in your mind and making your thighs clench.

“Mmm, I can smell that sweet pussy from here, goddamn.” Curtis chuckled when you gave him a halfhearted hiss, petting your hair and dangling the panties that were going to be used in your hunt right in front of your face. “Probably won’t even need these to track you down, but put them on anyway.”

You grumbled when you bent over to pull the pink lace on under your shift, wincing when Curtis yanked on the leash so you had to keep your gaze on him while you completed your humiliating actions. He just kept grinning at you once you were finished, tugging on the leash until you trudged after him with a sullen pout on your face.

It was utterly degrading being paraded around like this. Every time you passed one of the other Alphas you had to pretend like you couldn’t hear their snickering and do your best to hold your head high. Curtis loved it, though, only getting caught off guard once or twice when he snarled at noticing one of his men gazing at you for a little longer than he would have liked. He did love showing you off like his little prize horse, though, especially right now while you were in heat and looked all breedable and shit. Made him feel itchy under his skin like he did right before his rut started, he might have to consider upping his dose of suppressants.

At least the air was fresh and clear, and the sun was out. When he brought you to the edge of the fence and let you rest you closed your eyes and let the sunlight warm your skin, forgetting for a moment where you were and everything that had happened to you. But then he was tugging on your leash and you had to open your eyes and see him standing so close to you that every time you breathed your lungs were filled with his scent. That cold, woodsy, pure Alpha scent that you hated and made your already swollen pussy throb even harder.

“What?” He was looking at you like he wanted something, and you weren’t in the mood for one of his games when you were right on the precipice of your heat. You should be in your nest. “What do you want?”

“C’mere.” He grunted and yanked you even closer, ducking low so he could scent your hair and rumbling when you grudgingly tucked your face into his shoulder and let the fingers of his free hand trail down your spine. “You really are my good girl, aren’t you? You just like putting up a front.”

“No.” You just snorted and glared at him when he tucked his fingers under your chin, letting him tilt your face up so he could look at you and glaring at him. “I’m not.”

“If I have to keep telling you not to lie to me, I’m gonna get pissed off.” He popped you on the cheek when you snorted again, grabbing your jaw aggressively and shaking your head while you kept that stubborn look on your face. “Now, are you my good girl?”

“Ye-yes.” You gasped when he rubbed his bearded cheek against your temple and let out a deep rumble, your hindbrain swimming with the need to submit to the Alpha even while you struggled to keep your spine up. “Your good girl.”

“That’s right, filly.” Curtis kissed the top of your head when you buried your face in his chest and mewled softly. “And you love showing off, even when it’s not on a hunt. All fours.”

The fact that he didn’t even bother trying to command you anymore but just knew you would submit anyway should have bothered you, but it didn’t. You kept your eyes fixed on his while you sank to your knees, placing your palms on the cold ground and spreading your legs as he slowly circled you. This had become the new routine before hunts, apparently the assholes who wanted a chance to catch you also liked to inspect the goods, so to speak, so now Curtis was charging them exorbitantly for the privilege of watching your tight, pretty cunt make a mess of your panties through the cameras he’d set up at the edge of the compound.

Curtis slowly dragged the hem of your shift up your hips until it was settled around your waist, patting your head when you arched your back and mewled at the feeling of the chilly air blowing against the soaked lace at the apex of your thighs. The insides of your thighs were shiny with your own slick, the outline of your pussy clearly visible through the wet fabric and clenching for the cameras while Curtis knelt beside you.

He gripped the fabric stretched over your hips and yanked on it until it was firmly cupping the plump folds of your cunt, hushing you when you whined and wiggled your ass needily. Your fingers curled in the soil under your hands when he smacked your pussy, another wave of slick gushing out of you when he did it a second time as your eyes fluttered closed.

“Such a good girl.” Curtis cooed as he started petting your cunt, feeling your swollen clit pulse under his fingers as blood rushed to his cock when you let out a small whimper. “So pretty, just look at how responsive this tight little Omega hole is. You know what to say.”

“Please, Alpha.” Even though you hated the farce of begging him, you still wanted to come, pushing your cunt against his fingers when he toyed with your button. “I’ll be good, let me come, please.”

Curtis swatted your cunt again and bit his lip when you let yourself collapse on your elbows, pinching your clit and rolling it between his fingers while your breathing grew deeper and your gut grew tight. He increased the pressure on your tiny bundle of nerves until your legs started trembling, rubbing your sensitive pussy harder and harder until your breath caught.

Your heat meant that you were already so close to falling over the edge, you couldn’t stop whining and panting and looking up at Curtis with pleading eyes while everything below your waist throbbed wildly. You refused to beg him, he didn’t deserve it, and you hated giving him any sort of satisfaction, stubbornly trying to hold onto the last shreds of dignity you had left.

Then he yanked on the leash at the same time he shoved his fingers inside you through the sodden lace and you broke, sobbing and kicking your feet feebly while you teetered on the edge of your pleasure. And he just held you there, gently petting the inside of your cunt and barely rubbing his palm against your clit until he saw those pretty tears leaking down your cheeks.

“C’mon, filly.” Curtis leaned down and spat on the fingers that were plunging into your clenching hole, grinning wickedly when you choked at him pulling the collar tight until your tongue looked out of your mouth and your eyes rolled back in your skull. “Ask me to come like a good little bitch.”

“P-please, Alpha, please…” your voice was hoarse while you choked out your plea, struggling to focus your vision and crying softly when he still didn’t increase the pressure of his touch. “I’m your good girl, lemme come, please Alpha.”

“Go on then.” He drove his palm against your clit at the same time he viciously stroked your g-spot and you wailed, shaking violently and gushing so much slick it started to pool in a puddle on the ground between your knees. “Such a good little pussy, showing off for all your fans.”

You couldn’t help but purr when he scooped you off the ground and cradled you against his chest, burying your face in his shoulder and breathing his scent in deeply while he carried you back to your rooms. Curtis kept cooing soft praises at you when he set you in the nest, kissing your hair and calling you his good girl while he slid the panties down your legs and handing them off when they brought your food in.

“C’mon honey, you’ve gotta eat.” Curtis pulled you into his lap and grinned when you rested your head on his shoulder, scooping up some rice and holding the fork up to your lips until you took a bite. “That’s my girl, can’t have you collapsing in the middle of your run.”

“Don’t wanna fucking run.” You winced when he grunted with displeasure, curling closer to him and taking another dutiful bite when he held the fork up again. “I wanna stay here.”

“Do you?” He felt you shudder after he fed you another bite, the hand that wasn’t feeding you rubbing your back while you tried to ignore the cramps wracking your body. “Are you getting sweet on me, filly?”

“No.” You wanted to cry, all you could think about was curling up in your nest with him next to you, and you hated it. “Maybe.”

“Well fuck me.” Curtis hushed you gently when you whined, setting your empty plate aside and cupping your jaw in one giant hand while he rubbed his cheek against your temple. “You really are my girl, aren’t you? Oh, I’ve really spoiled you, poor thing.”

All you could do was whimper when he kept scenting you, gripping his shirt tightly and rubbing your face against his throat as you gave yourself over to him. This was easier, fighting it was so much work, maybe you could just stay here and let him take care of you.

“Let me stay with you.” You wiggled in his lap and pressed your lips against his skin, peeking at him through your lashes and sliding your fingers over his chest in an effort to please him. “Alpha, I can be so good, I’ll take your knot however you want, I’ll let you breed my little Omega pussy. I can carry your pups, I’ll give you so many.”

“Oof, I can’t say I’m not tempted, pretty girl.” He kissed your forehead before gently pulling your face away from him, chuckling when you pouted and tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “But, some fat millionaire paid out the ass to try to catch you while you were in heat, and I don’t offer refunds. Good news is, you’re gonna have an easy time beating that fucker.”

“Hmph, okay.” You sniffed when he moved you off his lap and rose to his feet, giving him a grudging smile when he gripped your chin between his fingers and tilted your face up. “Do I get to see you once I kick his ass?”

“Of course, filly.” Curtis felt a strange urge to lean down and kiss you full on the lips, call off the hunt and spend the next three days knotting you and filling you with his cum while he bonded you and really made you his. He definitely needed to up his suppressants. “I’ll always take care of my good girl, you’re gonna coast through this hunt. Then I’ll spoil you like you deserve.”

His words echoed through your mind when you were deep in the woods, not even needing to break into anything faster than a light jog when you caught another whiff of the lardass that had paid to chase you. You were getting bored of this, it wasn’t even a challenge, no matter that your heat was making you want nothing so much as to present yourself to the nearest Alpha and get bred.

Another hint of overripe mandarin and musk tickled your nose and you almost gagged, finally getting fed up and leaning against a tree as you waited for your hunter to catch up to you. It took him a good five minutes, giving you plenty of time to find a nice heavy rock before he waddled into view.

“There you are.” He could barely catch his breath, you didn’t think you could be more disgusted. “Thought you were gonna be harder to track down, but you just knew when you were dealing with a real Alpha and couldn’t wait to submit.”

“I got sick of smelling your fucking stink.” You hefted the rock when he started to circle you, hissing at him and snarling when he got close. “You’re not a real Alpha, you’re a fucking joke.”

“That’s no way to talk to your new mate.” He had the audacity to sneer at you. “Bet you’ll be nice and pliant once I…”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish, rushing him and cracking the rock against his skull over and over and screaming with frustration when he fell to the ground. He didn’t deserve you, none of them deserved you. None of them except him.

Someone pulled you off the asshole who thought he could have you before you could deliver a killing blow, your feral scream cut short when you caught his scent and knew it was Curtis whose arms were wrapped tightly around you. He was smiling when your gaze found his, his face the only thing you could focus on while other people milled around you and got rid of the man you didn’t care about.

“Such a good girl.” Curtis crooned when you winced as another cramp twisted your gut, picking you up and carrying you to the ATV while members of his crew gave you dirty looks. “Gonna let you take a nice long soak in your tub, might even join you since you did so good.”

“Such a good girl.” Curtis crooned when you winced as another cramp twisted your gut, picking you up and carrying you to the ATV while members of his crew gave you dirty looks. “Gonna let you take a nice long soak in your tub, might even join you since you did so good.”

[sidekick-hero]

Catch me like the falling rain

(steddie | explicit | 12.2k | Sequel to my first runner!Steve fic)

Eddie leans his head on Steve's shoulder, chuckles a little, and shakes his head, "I can't believe this is happening.”

Steve wraps his arms around Eddie, pulling him closer and asks in a soft voice, “What do you mean?”

Eddie lifts his head from Steve's shoulder to meet his eyes. "Three hours ago I thought you hated my guts, and now we're standing naked in your bathroom after you literally blew my goddamn mind. It's unreal, man.”

“I never hated you, Eddie.”

Or: The one where there is running and they are both wet. A lot. They make it work.

It's been three weeks, four days and fifteen hours since Steve left Eddie's trailer after one of the most amazing, albeit unexpected, orgasms of his life.

That sounds a lot better in his head than the fact that it's also been three weeks, four days and fifteen hours since he stole out of Eddie's trailer in the wee hours of the morning, leaving a still-sleeping Eddie behind.

If you asked him, he couldn't tell you why he did it. Sure, he could tell you all about how he couldn't bring himself to wake Eddie up, could tell you how peaceful Eddie had looked, with the rising sun bathing his room in soft, warm light, illuminating his sleeping face, relaxed and with a tiny bit of drool in the corner of his mouth, black curls a wild mess around his head, spilling onto the white and surprisingly fluffy pillows. It wasn't an attractive look per se, but like so many things, it worked for Eddie.

Steve had no idea why the sight made his insides churn with something almost unpleasant, but he knew he had to get out of there before Eddie woke up and wanted to talk.

Eddie's a good guy, Steve knows that. Eddie cares. He doesn't deserve Steve's "It's not you, it's me" speech, which even to Steve's own ears sounds stale and insincere. I like you, but I think we're better off as friends. It was just two guys hooking up, no big deal. I'm sorry if you got the wrong idea.

And just. No. No way was he going to put them both through that awkward mess.

So he ran.

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And he kept on running.

Every day, he would put on his running clothes, close the door behind him, and just - run. For hours. Sunshine, rain, light or dark. It didn't matter, as long as he could leave Steve Harrington behind for a while. Steve with his nightmares, his absent parents and the big empty house, Steve with his migraines and the friends he sometimes wondered would leave him too if he stopped being useful. Steve with his dead-end job, Steve with all those tangled feelings for another boy who had taken care of him in more ways than one.

Outrunning that Steve was what kept him going, day after day.

It helped, to a degree. If he ran fast enough, far enough, his mind would shut up. He would get lost in the tap, tap, tap of his feet on the ground, his mind focused on putting one foot in front of the other, dodging roots and low-hanging branches, finding his way through the woods.

He wished he didn't have to stop running, that he didn't have to go home and shower and eat and sleep and work.

He wished he didn't have to be Steve again.

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He didn't go back to the trailer park after - after.

"Hey, what about - do you want me to - y'know," Steve had nodded towards where Eddie's hard dick was straining against his jeans.

Eddie had looked at his face, avoiding his eyes, and said, "Nah, that's alright, you don't have to. Just get some rest, okay?" before heading for the bathroom.

Steve had sat on the couch where Eddie had just sucked his brains out of his dick and pulled his sweatpants up again.

Eddie hadn't offered to drive him home and Steve hadn't asked, so they had just shared Eddie's twin bed as they had so many times before.

Lying on their backs in the dark, close enough on the small bed that their arms touched, Steve had waited. For what, he wasn't sure. Not that it mattered, because it never came.

"Night, Stevie," Eddie had said, turning on his side, facing away from him.

Steve had looked at the back of Eddie's head for a long time before he whispered, "Night, Eddie."

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It wasn't easy to stay away. Not after weeks of Steve ending up at Eddie’s every time he put on his running shoes. His feet wanted to take him down familiar roads, his legs remembered the rhythm that brought them to their favorite resting place, his mind urged him to seek the safe haven it was used to finding in the form of Eddie's smile, gentle hands, and easy banter.

Hell, even his dick wanted him to follow his usual paths, remembering the way Eddie's mouth, Eddie's tongue, Eddie's throat had felt around it.

At first, it had just been to give them both some space. He hadn't been avoiding Eddie per se. He just happened to be busy when Eddie called to ask if he wanted to hang out, watch a movie, or go swimming at the quarry (he wondered since when Eddie wanted to go swimming of all things).

"Hey Steve-O, long time no see. I was wondering if you were kidnapped or something. Haven’t seen you around in a while. Think the kids miss you, man."

"Hey. Yeah, no, no kidnapping, just busy. I got a job, y’know." Low blow, he knew that. Eddie wanted a job, he tried really hard, but nobody in Hawkins wanted to hire a former murder suspect.

"Yeah, sure, Stevie. I just - never mind. Maybe next week, yeah?"

"Sure, I'll give you a call. Listen, I gotta go."

"Okay, I'll be here whenever. Take care."

The longer he stayed away, the harder it became to approach Eddie. They went from seeing each other almost every day to not seeing each other at all.

When Steve didn't call back the next week, Eddie showed up at his house. It was one of those Eddie things that Steve is never going to get used to, like him stocking up on dextrose and reading books about running. It's hard to wrap his head around the magnitude of it, even now.

Because - Steve had brushed him off, rudely so, and yet here Eddie was, seeking him out anyway. Going out of his way for Steve again, wearing his heart on his sleeve, showing Steve his underbelly. It had felt endearing, sprawled out on Eddie's couch, in Eddie's lap, but now Steve can't help but think of Tommy and Carol. He can still hear their jeering voices as they mocked his feelings for Nancy, the way he had cared for her.

Aww, Steve has a heart. He’s in loooooove.

Steve pretended he wasn’t home, hiding in his mother's broom closet with his arm around his knees, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking shallow breaths.

His Beemer was parked in the driveway, and Steve was sure Eddie had seen it.

Eddie rang the doorbell five times.

Steve didn't hear the van pull away from the curb in front of his house for another 20 minutes.

He didn't leave the closet for over an hour.

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Steve figured they would just see each other again at some group thing or whatever. Things would be back to normal in no time. He could take some time to figure things out. Time to fucking think about what it all means, what he feels for Eddie, and where he wants things to go with him. But Steve can't do all that if he has to look at him. He just... He can't.

So he gets up, he works, he runs. Rinse, repeat.

He barely sleeps those three weeks, four days and fifteen hours. Exhaustion knocks him out for a few hours here and there, and that's enough to keep him going.

That's what he tells himself.

It's fine.

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He makes it ten more days like this.

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The path in front of him winds gently uphill, the slopes lined with patches of dry dirt that frame the roots sticking out of the ground, the churned earth the only sign that he's not the first person to find this particular trail. It's heavily overgrown with bushes and grass, barely visible, and Steve thinks it must have been a while since anyone followed it. His feet carry him along, ducking under low-hanging branches, skipping over rocks and roots without thinking.

He should be concentrating on the path ahead, but his mind dwells on the past.

You read a book about running for me.

I did.

A rock juts out to his right, so he leaps to his left, not slowing down at all. If anything, he picks up speed.

You wait for me, every day, to come by. You take care of me.

I do.

The path winds up and up, and his legs burn with the effort to carry him forward, upward, while his mind refuses to stop playing that goddamn memory back to him. Again.

You want to touch me.

I do. So bad, Steve. Want to touch you so bad.

There's a branch in his way and he barely avoids it by leaping over it, landing on a stone and almost twisting his ankle. But he catches himself and stumbles a few feet before getting his feet back into their former rhythm.

He wills his mind to shut the fuck up, but no one ever listens to him, including himself.

I want you to. Please, Eddie. Touch me.

His foot catches a root, partially hidden by leaves and dirt, and he goes down. Hard. He breaks his fall with his hands, scraping his palms, but his knees take the brunt of it. The pain is surprising in its intensity, and he drops to the ground, rolling onto his back.

After literally blowing Steve's mind, why did Eddie pull back? Was it a heat of the moment thing that Eddie regretted the second it was done? Did Steve regret it?

"FUCK!" he yells into the cloudy sky above him, his voice hoarse and a group of birds flee from their hiding place, startled by the loud noises.

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When things come to a head, Steve is not much further along in figuring out what the hell it is he wants.

To be honest, he had expected Robin or Dustin to call him on his bullshit earlier. Not that they didn't try. It only takes so long for your best friends to notice that something is wrong with you. Like excuses piling up to skip group outings: more shifts, longer runs, exhaustion, migraines. It's all true, but it's also a welcome way to get out of things that might involve Eddie. But after years of it, Steve has gotten good at dodging their questions, diverting their attention from him to other things.

He does tell Robin, in the end, an abridged version, of course, but she didn't have the answers he was looking for. Just more questions to add to his growing pile.

"So you slept with Eddie? Our friend Eddie? Our male friend Eddie?"

Wincing at the piercing pitch of her voice, he said, "Well, sort of? Not all the way, we just —"

"No need for details, Dingus. I get the gist. But why?"

He was nice. He cared. He wanted me.

"I don't know, Robs. It just, y'know, happened?"

"You mean you slipped and bumped his dick with yours?" They both grimaced at her choice of words. "And what happens now?" Straight to the point. He could count on Robin to be blunt with him, and he loved her for it.

"I have no idea. I thought we would go back to the way things were."

“Do you want that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does Eddie want that?”

“I don’t know.”

The truth, or as much truth as there is when it comes to these things, is that Steve wants guarantees. He wants to be sure. Sure that letting Eddie in would end happily. Sure it wouldn't be bullshit. Sure they won’t regret it.

Sure that this time Steve Harrington wouldn't be the shitty boyfriend left behind.

"Okay, you don't know. I get it, Steve. I do. But,” she sighs heavily, “Steve, what you're doing - it's cruel. At least talk to him. Maybe you don't have to know, just don't leave him in the dark like this. It's still Eddie.”

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It's as if the universe wants to emphasize Robin's point, because on his next day off, he's awakened by the ringing of the phone. He considers ignoring it, groggy from another night of tossing and turning, but it keeps ringing. After the sixth ring, he groans, reaches for the phone next to his bed, and answers it with a grouchy, "This better be good," expecting either Dustin or Robin on the other end.

Instead, a dry chuckle greets him and a familiar voice, much deeper than Dustin's or Robin's, says, "Jesus, who pissed in your coffee? That how you answer the phone?"

He jerks up, pulling on the phone cord and almost sending the whole thing crashing to the floor. "Uh, hey, Eddie."

"Oh, so he is alive. I'll call the search party off."

Eddie sounds pissed, and Steve isn't awake enough to deal with this shit in any sensible way, so he says the first thing that comes to mind, "Yeah, because you're so friendly with the cops here."

"Thanks for the reminder, Harrington," Eddie bites out, "You have such a way with words." His voice drips with sarcasm and Steve wonders where they went so horribly wrong, wonders when he became Harrington again. Wonders if this is how it’s going to be from now on.

Steve takes a shuddering breath, not knowing what to say to make things right again.

Eddie just continues, as if he never expected an answer anyway. "Look, that was shitty. It's just, I - I don't know what I - or I do, but I don't understand - shit". In his mind, Steve can see Eddie pressing his hand to his eye, frustration in every line of his face. "Can we talk, man?" When Steve doesn't answer right away, Eddie adds in a thin voice that doesn't sound like his own, "Please. This is driving me crazy."

Thinking back to what Robin told him, What you're doing - it's cruel, Steve relents, "Okay, fine. Can it wait another hour? I need to go on a run first."

"Sure, it's been waiting over a month. What's another hour, right?"

"Eddie —"

"See ya in an hour, Harrington."

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Steve’s not running away. He isn't. He survived fighting an actual monster from another dimension, more than once, so he's not running away from talking to a boy who blew him once and then wouldn't let Steve touch him in return.

His legs burn from the exertion, but he pushes himself to go faster.

The sky had opened up just minutes after he'd walked out the door, and it would have been easy to go back, to take a shower, to pace the living room floor until Eddie showed up asking for answers he didn't have.

He didn't turn around, but let his feet carry him into the woods behind his house, following now familiar trails. The rain that pours down relentlessly hurts his face and arms, like grains of ice pricking his skin. He's soaked to the bone, his shoes making that squelching sound with every step he takes, his clothes clinging to him like a second skin, only heavier, dragging him down. He doesn't care.

He doesn't care about the aching in his legs, the burning in his lungs, the way he can barely see where he's going, water and hair in his eyes. He just runs and runs and runs.

There's an opening to a path he's never been on before, just a few steps ahead to his right. The storm drowns out all sense of time and space. He's just a body, just existing, seemingly alone in a world filled with rain. He feels it on his skin, hears the droning sound of it coming down around him, he smells it in the air and tastes it in his mouth as it runs down his face.

He turns right and follows the path.

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When he finally turns around and heads home, it's still raining. It has eased up a bit, not quite a drizzle, but no longer a downpour. It's easier to see, easier to navigate, and he makes good time. Still, he has the feeling it's been more than an hour since Eddie hung up on him.

Maybe a mile to go before he's back home is when he hears it. A voice. A voice calling, screaming his name, thin and almost breaking.

"Steve!" Coming from his right. He thinks. It's hard to tell, the forest swallows most sounds around him. Still, he turns to where he thinks the voice is coming from and trots towards it. He's afraid of running too far in the wrong direction, but he doesn't have to worry as the voice grows louder, closer.

"Steve, where are you?" The voice trembles, and Steve thinks he hears tears in it. He picks up speed again, his light jog becoming almost a sprint.

Only a few feet in front of him, he sees him, leaning against a tree, hunched over, chest heaving. Wet tangles of black hair obscure his face, but Steve would recognize him anywhere.

The unexpected sight stops him in mid-stride, gasping in surprise.

"Eddie!" Eddie lifts his head at the sound, searching for the source.

“Over here!" Steve calls, waving as he starts running again.

This time, Eddie sees him and pushes away from the tree. He starts toward Steve and stumbles, his legs buckling under his weight.

Steve’s there to catch him.

He wraps his arms around Eddie's middle and presses himself close to the shivering body in his arms, taking most of Eddie's weight. Eddie is soaking wet, just like Steve, but he's also gasping for air, clinging to Steve's back like a man drowning. Steve makes soothing sounds, rocking them slowly from side to side to calm Eddie from his panicky state.

"Shhhhh. Hey, Eddie, it's okay. It's me, it's Steve. Everything's okay. You're okay. I’m okay. Just breathe, slow and easy." He keeps his voice low, murmuring the words into Eddie's ear, his cheek pressed against the wet strands of his hair. Eddie's breathing gradually slows, his chest no longer heaving against Steve's. He's still shaking like a leaf, but Steve is taking all the progress he can get. He presses even closer, head to toe, knowing that deep pressure always helps him to calm down. "That's it. Slow and easy. Deep breaths, just like that."

The downpour has started again, but Steve doesn't care, just holds Eddie close and gently sways them to a rhythm only he can hear in the sound of the falling rain.

Steve keeps his arms around Eddie, who seems to be unable to stop shivering, and asks the question that has been on the tip of his tongue since he found Eddie, "What are you doing out here?" It comes out more accusatory than he means, but he lets the question hang in the air between them.

Eddie shivers harder in his arms, inching closer and closer to Steve's warm body. It takes the sting out of his words when he bites out, "I've been looking for you, asshole."

Steve kind of figured, but that's not really what he's asking, he needs to know — "Why?"

Eddie leans back enough to meet Steve's eyes. "It's been two hours, Steve, and with the rain, I was... I was worried," Eddie's teeth start to chatter with the cold, but he presses on, "that something might have happened. Like you slipped and got another concussion or something."

"You were worried about me?"

Eddie's eyebrow arch in disbelief, his voice serious even through the chattering of his teeth, "Steve. C'mon, man, you're not as thick as the kids make you out to be." The chattering gets worse with every word, and Steve notices that Eddie's lips have turned blue. He needs to warm Eddie up, fast, because his own wet skin isn't going to do the job.

"Let's go back to the house. Talk more after we get warmed up, okay?"

Eddie nods, but doesn't untangle himself from Steve, his only source of warmth. Chuckling, Steve keeps one arm around Eddie's waist and turns them forward. "Come on, man, the sooner we get home, the sooner you can take a hot shower." That perks Eddie up enough to start walking. Steve helps as best he can, even with the exhaustion he feels creeping in. If Eddie's right, he's been running a lot longer than he thought. As the adrenaline starts to drain from his body, he can feel how tired his body is. Still, Eddie needs him. It's Steve's fault that he's here in the first place, wet and shivering and miserable. All because he was worried about Steve.

The knowledge sits heavy in his chest and gives him the strength he needs to half-walk, half-drag Eddie towards his house. They make good progress, but about a quarter of a mile from their destination, Eddie trips over a rock and his legs give way under him. Steve catches him, sort of; he breaks the fall with his body, making it his knees that hit the ground, not Eddie's. His heart thunders in his chest, surprised that Eddie almost fell, and the shock is enough to revive him.

"Hey, how about you hop on, huh? It's not far, I can carry you." He gestures to his back since he's already on his knees.

Eddie looks at him doubtfully, "You're joking."

"No, I'm not. Seriously, hop on."

"Thanks for the gracious offer, but I'm not an invalid, I can walk." It would be more convincing if Steve wasn't kneeling on the ground with most of Eddie's weight leaning on him after Eddie almost went down.

Impatience makes Steve’s voice sound sharper than it was before when he says, "Obviously you can't, and we're never going to make it back like this, so for the love of God, stop being so goddamn stubborn and hop on."

Eddie hesitates for another second before he lets out a defeated sigh and climbs onto Steve's back, careful with his long limbs.

He wraps his legs around Steve's middle and puts one arm around Steve's shoulders, the other across his torso from under Steve's left arm. Steve grips Eddie's thighs and says in a strained voice, "Buckle up, buttercup."

Eddie snorts and Steve is glad to see that he hasn't lost his sense of humor in the fucking cold. He slowly stands, his legs protesting under the added weight, but he ignores it. One foot after the other. He can do this. He can take care of Eddie the way Eddie took care of him.

The first few steps are hard, causing him to sway slightly from side to side, but he finds his footing. Eddie clings to him like a wet blanket, still shivering, but safe. He rests his chin on Steve's shoulder and says, so softly that Steve almost doesn't hear him, "Thanks for carrying me, Samwise the Brave.”

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

They make it to the house in one piece, safe and sound, if looking a little worse for wear. Steve trots over to the patio doors, glad he left them unlocked. Toeing his wet and muddy shoes off, and waiting for Eddie to do the same with his legs crossed in front of Steve, he slides the door open and steps inside, Eddie still on his back. He doesn't even think about putting him down, just continues on to the stairs. It's not exactly warmer inside, as Steve never bothers to heat the place just for himself, but at least it's dry.

"Uh, Steve? You can put me down. I can walk, remember?"

"Shuddup, lemme do this for you."

For once in his life, Eddie listens, so Steve slowly climbs up the stairs. At the top, he turns right and walks straight through his room and into his en-suite bathroom.

At least it is warmer in here. The heating is always on because Steve likes the simple comfort of a warm bathroom, and right now it's heavenly to step into it. He hears a small sigh from behind him and thinks that Eddie agrees.

Once inside the spacious, pristine room, he lets Eddie slide down his back slowly, turning around as soon as Eddie's feet hit the floor. Steve grabs him by the elbows and holds him steady. "Okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Seriously, Harrington, I can stand. You don't have to... take care of me or whatever." He doesn't even look at Steve, and his words should seem dismissive, designed to push Steve away, but Eddie's body speaks another language. He sways back into Steve's orbit and something clicks in Steve's brain.

As forward as Eddie had been the night of the blowjob, he was just as nervous and unsure as Steve. The thought calms something inside Steve, makes him want to be brave, because he knows what it feels like to wonder. Wondering if someone cares, wondering if his presence is wanted, wondering if he is too much or not enough. And even though he's still not sure where they stand, he knows he doesn't want Eddie to feel that way about him.

Steve doesn't let go of Eddie's elbows and moves him to sit on the closed toilet seat before he turns and starts the shower. He’s not looking at Eddie as he says, "But what if I want to?"

"Why would you, if you hate me so much that you have to run away?" The question throws Steve off balance so much that he almost stumbles into the shower stall. Not that his clothes could get any wetter, but it’s the principal of the thing.

And that's just — “I don't hate you. Christ, why would you think that?"

Eddie still refuses to look at him, head down, talking to his knees. "Gee, let me think. Maybe because you disappeared in the middle of the night, and didn’t bother saying goodbye? Because you avoided me like the damn plague? Refused to talk to me, like you would rather run off in a goddamn storm. And I - I didn't - I thought - I don't know what I thought. Maybe that there was a chance, however slim, that you wanted me too." He looks up at that, a bitter smile on his face, and Steve is no longer sure if the wetness on his face is just rainwater. "Silly me, huh?"

There are so many things Steve wants to say, so many things he needs to say, so he blurts out, "Then why didn't you touch me?"

At first the only answer he gets is a strange clicking sound that seems to get stuck in Eddie's throat. He clears it and tries again. "Excuse me, but what? If I remember correctly, and I do, vividly, I touched you quite a bit."

"You know, after, you just. You walked away. Didn't even want me to touch you. Did you regret it already?" Steve wraps his arms around himself and shivers. He didn’t want to say those words. They make him feel naked, exposed. Like giving up control of how this story is going to end. Being brave sucks, he thinks.

Eddie is on his feet in seconds, his legs still wobbling, but his face determined as he steps toward Steve. He stops right in front of him, his hand raised slightly, as if he wants to touch but doesn't dare. Steve wills him to reach out, to take his hand, anything.

But Eddie lets his hand sink back to his side and whispers in a trembling voice, "I - I wanted you to touch me. Of course I did,” he adds with nervous laughter, “Believe me, I barely made it to the bathroom to, y’know, take care of things,” gesturing to his crotch, and it makes Steve laugh, despite himself.

Giving him a smile that’s only somewhat shaky around the edges, Eddie goes on, “Man, I just - I got all in my head,” he gestures again, this time to his head, “I didn't want you to regret it, didn't want you to feel like you had to, y’know, reciprocate and then —” He sighs, puts his head in his hands, and Steve barely hears his next words, “I fucked it up.”

And Steve disagrees because he's the one who screwed up. He's the one who was afraid of things changing, even though his running away did just that, and not for the better. But maybe it’s not too late.

Steve steps forward, right into Eddie’s space, circles his wrists with his fingers and gently pulls his hands away from his face. He looks Eddie in the eyes and hopes Eddie believes him when he says, "But I wanted to.”

He steps even closer, their chests touching, his hands still wrapped around Eddie’s wrists and their faces so close he only has to whisper for Eddie to hear his next words, “I still want to."

With that, he presses his lips to Eddie’s.

Their kiss starts out slow, tentative. Like any first kiss, really, when you don't know what to expect, what's okay and what's not. When you want it to be good, so good, but you just don't know how. But there is nothing clumsy or awkward about the way their lips slide against each other; more a hesitant curiosity, both holding back, trying to get a feel for each other.

It's Eddie who finally makes the leap, bringing his hand to Steve's face and turning his head, aligning their lips in new and exciting ways as he coaxes Steve's open with his tongue. He's playful, teasing Steve's lower lip, the corner of his mouth, the front of his teeth.

At the gentle brush of Eddie's thumb across his cheekbone, Steve opens up and lets Eddie in.

After that, Steve loses track of things. There's Eddie's tongue in his mouth, licking inside as if he wants to learn everything about Steve by the way he tastes, and Steve thinks maybe he's onto something. Steve wraps his arm around Eddie's waist and pulls him closer, his other hand burying itself in long strands of wet hair to change the angle of their mouths. It's enough to make Eddie gasp in his arms, and he chases Eddie's tongue into his mouth, trying to get a taste for himself.

Their bodies touch from head to toe, every inch pressed together so that Steve can feel the next shiver running through Eddie. He wants to believe it's the way he's devouring Eddie's mouth, drinking the rainwater directly from his lips, but it's probably more due to the wet clothes that cling to their bodies.

Steve pulls back a little reluctantly, and says, "You need to get warmed up. Let me help you, yeah?" with his lips just a hair away from Eddie's. Eddie nods, his eyes dazed, as if he's not quite back from wherever he went during their kiss. Steve takes a step back and Eddie sways forward, following his warmth. Steve chuckles, deciding to hurry and get Eddie under the warm spray of the shower.

He moves to tug at the hem of Eddie's dripping shirt, and Eddie's eyes clear as he looks first at Steve, then at Steve's hands. "Is this okay?" Steve asks, wanting to make sure they're still on the same page here. His answer comes as Eddie raises his arms in a clear invitation, and Steve pulls the shirt over his head and tosses it aside.

The sound of wet clothes hitting the tile is so unexpectedly loud that they both turn to see where the shirt landed, and Steve chuckles at how much this all feels like a scene from a movie. When he turns back, he finds a real Eddie smile on Eddie's face. Steve always thought it was a nice smile. It makes Eddie's face look softer, and Steve wants to touch his finger to the dimple that peeks out from the corner of his mouth.

It's the first time he's seen Eddie shirtless since his wounds healed completely. He had seen a lot of them before, helping Wayne with Eddie's care whenever he could. He knows what his torso looked like, remembers the angry red wounds that healed so, so slowly. They're faded now, some still pink, others pale, almost white. His fingers itch to touch them, to see if they feel like his. They look like his, twin scars, two for the price of one.

He's startled out of his staring when Eddie's hands tug at his own shirt and his eyebrows quirk in question. This is supposed to be about Eddie, whose smile has slightly dimmed by Steve's reaction. His fingers play with the hem of Steve's shirt, and he watches them for a second before looking up at Steve to tell him, "You need to warm up too, sweetheart."

Steve's eyes widen at the nickname he hasn't heard from Eddie in so long. He’s glad they're back from Harrington to this. Steve searches Eddie's face for some sign that he's reading this right this time because he's not sure if he can go through this all over again. And his aching legs agree with him.

Some of that must be showing on his face, because Eddie leans forward and gives him a soft, savory kiss that goes a long way toward erasing those lingering doubts from Steve's mind. Steve nods as soon as their lips separate, and Eddie's hands slide under his shirt and up his cold skin until his shirt is bunched under his arms. He lifts them and Eddie slides off the piece of clothing as if it offended him.

Eddie’s eyes take in every inch of Steve's torso, and a soft shit that Steve is sure was not meant to be said out loud slips from Eddie's mouth. Steve knows what he looks like; he's had enough girls tell him he's hot, even with the ugly scars on his side and his back. But none of those girls have looked at him the way Eddie is looking at him now. Like Steve is everything he has ever wanted, scars and all. And maybe Steve isn't quite sure what he wants to come from this yet, but he thinks being wanted by Eddie is something he'd like to keep.

He takes a step toward Eddie, bringing their chests together, almost touching, and spreads his hands just above Eddie's waistband. His thumbs run along the pale, soft skin just above it, teasing along the protruding hip bones. Steve always runs hot, even now, and Eddie's skin feels so cold under his hands that he wants to wrap himself around him like a heated blanket. The warmth of Steve's touch makes Eddie lean into it even more, a small sound of pleasure coming from his throat, as if he wants nothing more than to chase that warmth, to chase the feeling of Steve.

One of Steve's hands goes to the buttons of Eddie's jeans, wrapping his big fingers around the top one and looking straight into Eddie's eyes as he pops it open. Eddie's eyes widen, the blackness of his pupils eating up more and more of the warm brown with each additional button Steve undoes. The air around them feels heavy, like just before a summer storm hits, charged with a tension so thick Steve can barely breathe.

It feels like he is in a strange trance, unable to take his eyes off of Eddie's as he gets his hands into the waistband of Eddie's wet jeans. Steve holds his gaze and slowly sinks to his knees as he pulls them down, taking Eddie's boxers with him. They pool around Eddie's ankles and Steve taps the back of his knees when Eddie makes no move to get out of them, just continues to stare at Steve.

"You gotta work with me on this, man. Come on. You're turning blue and that's really not your color."

Eddie snorts and steps out of the wet pants. "I’m sorry to have offended your sensitive sense of fashion. Won't happen again."

"Oh, I'm sure it will."

Eddie reaches down to cup Steve's cheek and pulls him back to his feet, their mouths meeting for another kiss. "Let me make it up to you then," he whispers against Steve's lips before reaching for Steve's sweatpants.

Read the rest on AO3

A heartfelt thank you to my partner in crime @legitcookie for your constant support, cheerleading, dirty mind and humor and roundabout lovable self. This wouldn't exist without you 💜

Also thank you to my Schwester @yournowheregirl for feeding me the best ideas - I was so fucking stuck and then you came around and gave me this idea 🫶

And last but not least, thank you @thefreakandthehair for running this challenge and for being so flexible about the way I filled my prompt "dancing in the rain" haha. You are a gift, Lex! 🥰

[seasonal-writes]

“how do you talk to star?” - title from the song of the same name by everybody’s worried about owen (since it’s back up, ao3 link is here!) characters: jimmy (mainly)/tango cw: none unless you consider the insane amount of introspective themes throughout this thing. so! little note! guess who wrote something new and finished it. for the first time in months. it is short, i am rusty, and i DEFINITELY wouldn’t say it’s my best work but i like the concept a lot and churned this short and sweet little introspective fic last night in a writing haze! i missed four calls from my family members help.

It is based on this prompt list, specifically number 7. :) hope you all enjoy this super short, ramble-y, jimmy is very much pining one-shot! ~

Jimmy has learned it takes nothing. Barely a glance, he has found, for all of the sediment—that he thought was long stationary—to be kicked up again, to clog every artery and leave him struggling to breathe.  His conundrum lies in the side profile of Tango. The curve of the tip of his forehead, drooping into the bridge of his nose and rolling over two delicate hills of pretty, thin lips. Yes, he with the dancing eyebrows and teeth flashing, pulling against his lip when he grins and eyes that almost sparkle in sync. Tango—devastatingly, heart-achingly, undeniably and beyond beautiful Tango who has yet to notice his staring.  If Jimmy were to be grateful for anything, he’d be grateful for the obliviousness of his quarry.  Tango, in a stunning move, laughs without a care in the world. It’s so loud and clear and Jimmy feels a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip, the cause of such being obvious to anyone who may notice his ogling. Though, making a home in the corner of this crowded living room, he has no intentions of intruding. Of course, maybe he wishes he was the one making Tango laugh like that. Maybe he wishes that intoxicating gaze could be on him, rather than those who engage him. “You know, you can just go talk to him, right?” Grian asks, a gentle nudge of Jimmy’s elbow making him turn. Jimmy snorts.  Maybe that’s the problem, isn’t it? Jimmy probably could just go talk to him. He’d been watching him for so long, for so many occasions—if he were a more attentive man, he’d have studied the patterns by now. He’d understand every little joke, made a note of everything that could make him more appealing, more fun to talk to. Instead, he gets lost in it. When he tries to keep track, he fails. Being analytical was never his strong suit, and it never failed him more than when he was trying to figure out how to talk to the one he is very much in love with. The one who, as far as he knows, is very much not in love with him.  “We talk,” Jimmy says, “We’re just friends, that’s what friends do” “Yeah, Tim, and I’m just an idiot.” “You said it, not me.” Jimmy tries to say it seriously, but he can’t help the grin. “I bet he’d like to chat. You two always get along well,” Grian says, dodging the jab flawlessly and turning his eyes to Tango, the two now watching from the shadows.  “Well- yeah, I guess.”  Another problem. They did get along well. Too well, in fact. He had friends, had people who he could count on and talk to or laugh with. Jimmy even knew what it felt like to be flirted with, to be teased in that way. But it never quite felt the same when it was with Tango. And it just confused him anyway, was Tango flirting with him? Was he flirting back? He knows well that sometimes he just stumbles into things without looking first, that was no doubt. It could very well be that Jimmy was just fooling himself, wandering into something that he didn’t get a good look at before exposing his neck to the danger of misinterpretation.  Maybe, in reality, Tango was just indulging him—even if he is a really, really good guy, the concept was dangerously easy for Jimmy to trust.  “I just think that if you’d get off your perch and just go up to him, or wave or- geez, just stop staring and do something, it’d probably be fine.”  “I appreciate your suggestions, but I am comfortable right here,” Jimmy says, “He’s busy, anyway- see?” He nods up in the general direction of Tango, noting how he is casually conversing with Impulse and Zed, who keep him engaged. Grian groans.  “Not gonna be busy forever, man.” “Well, I can’t go talk to him right now, then. Maybe later.”  He feels Grian clap a hand onto his shoulder, sighing. “Whatever you say, Tim. But those feelings are just going to fester till you say something, you know.” “..I’ll- I’ll take my chances,” Jimmy mutters, swallowing hard.  He only glances at Grian for a second while he moves off into the rest of the party, not bothering to track where he’s heading once he leaves.  When he finds Tango again, there’s not much of a difference. Zed left. Impulse still has him explaining something. He can tell by how his hands move, how his gestures get big and small and create the shapes of whatever figures are drawn out in his mind. Jimmy always admired that. He’d gotten it up close, once, when Tango got into one of his redstone rambles and talked at Jimmy while he just nodded and smiled and listened, despite having zero clue about what he was saying. Jimmy may not be good at redstone, but he’s sure if he was asked what he liked about Tango, he would go into the same sort of ramble. Big hand gestures, small hand gestures—anything to properly convey how smitten he had him.  Tango had no idea.  Jimmy was sure, at this point, he was destined for a forever’s worth of pining. A lifetime of restless stomachs, of rocking heartbeats that sound more like scattered drums than something meant to keep him alive. He will spend the majority of his days avoiding the fire and getting used to the cold of the corners, growing fond of the way his eyes glaze over as if he has stared at the sun for a little too long. … and.. still.  Something inside of him roared, clawed at its cage and said let me out, said tell him. He couldn’t really tell what was holding him back—was it just fear? Anyone would be scared to confess, sure. It could be the rejection, the dreamt up, awkward and letting-you-down-easy smile. The sorry, I’m just not into you that way. Or, maybe, it was the worry that things would go well. After all, they had gotten to know each other closely. Teaming up will do that to you. Talking almost every day will do that to you. Running into each other at parties, taking walks, talking about redstoning and building and bearing your every wound to each other almost shamelessly on the bad days and sharing in the joys on the good days, as if it was always meant to be just like this. Jimmy feels himself suddenly come back into himself like a head slamming into a wall, taking note of an astonishing development.   Tango is looking at him. Impulse now gone from sight, he leans against the same wall, but he is looking. Then offering an adorable wave with a tiny smile, Tango straightens his shoulders when Jimmy waves back, like some attempt to make himself look taller—and with the rush of feelings rolling over Jimmy, he feels adrenaline-fueled laughter forcing its way to the surface; it comes out in a quiet wheeze.  It finds him right away. The familiar sensation of Jimmy’s insides dropping like a sinking building, leaving nothing but dust-caked breaths that feel sticky, catching in his throat with every other inhale. He is a ruined mess of a man. A weak, mumbled puddle of warmth and heavy pulses and heat.  He is fucked. Royally, deeply, this-is-it fucked. And they stay that way for seconds, but it feels like years, and Jimmy can’t get enough of it.  Loving someone does feel quite good, doesn’t it? And maybe, being loved right back could feel even better. If he could just get over himself and try.

[omgkalyppso]

things I would like to know about fellow writers

I was tagged by @dustdeepsea, thank you!! (:

Putting a cut in this because I'm very specific in some sexual language (not about my sexual history).

For this reason I'm too shy to tag anyone else, but if you see this and want to answer the questions, please consider yourself tagged by me.

Last book I read: The last book I finished must've been American Gods.

Greatest literary inspiration: I don't know. I like reading for reading and for learning, but no one that I really want to write like, and I feel bad for naming big names, still. JRR Tolkien, Douglas Adams, Diane Duane, Isaac Asimov (the short story Liar! has really stuck with me). And even then, that might influence how I used to write original fiction, but not at all how I write fanfiction, which I do almost exclusively now. I write far more original poetry than original fiction, and then ... I'm inspired by my mother, people in my community, all the music I listen to.

My fanfiction is a little inspired by my friends. I was going to link their a/o3 accounts but realized they may not want that. fghdfghdfg

Things in my current fandom I want to read but I don't want to write: Let's think of 3 for bg3 and 3 for fire emblem.

Vlaakith's defeat. - Idk enough about githyanki politics / how many "elite" forces (if any) are at her disposal.

Minsc's homecoming. - I feel like I'd have to play the first two games to be up to this.

He Who Was in control of his faculties but subbing very sweetly for Tav/Durge of any gender with bondage, hair pulling, overstimulation, spanking and the presence of a knife (I'd say knifeplay, but I don't mean bloodplay / cutting for him). - Reminder that this isn't a w/endy's, it's my blog.

Slowburn, longfic of Marianne moving to Faerghus with her eventual marriage to Dimitri. - Time.

Shura holding Kana for the first time. - I could write this. I won't.

Kink scene, free-use Hilda where her inner monologue is as complex as she is while still being wildly indulgent. - I started this wip; Hubert was also up for grabs in it. But it isn't happening.

Wait, also, Sylvain x Mercedes x Dedue starting a relationship with miscommunication and pining. - Planning this feels hard. fghdfg

Things in my current fandoms I want to write but I think nobody would be interested in them but me: 

With the note that I know I have at least 5 enablers who will (probably?? fdghfgdhfdg) always express interest in my completion of a project even if the won't read it, and so "nobody" being interested applies to strangers:

Komira and Locke, either domesticity or sexual intimacy.

A fic where Wyll and Ulder talk and it results in reconciliation, and then a bigger rift, and then understanding (people really don't like Ulder).

My Blaiddyd Bastard oc Almanzor learning to let go of the hang-ups on sex his parents gave him and fucking my oc Peregrine.

My oc Fae as a Student AU longfic.

You can recognise my writing by: The temptation to insult my own writing is so, so strong, but I don't mean to insult anyone who reads my stuff and enjoys it so I have to be nice. Hm. I don't know. "The way I write dialogue / inner reflection" is vague, but it's all I've got.

My most controversial take (current fandom): You guys (gender neutral and vague) can't call that shit self-insert if it's a non-human Tav (or Durge). It's first or second person writing (often, and not even always lately???), and x Reader fic, but self-insert To Me means that either any reader or at least the author has to be able to picture themself Being Inserted into the story. I haven't seen 1 isekai situation using this tag, which isn't a requirement, but you're giving the self-insert tiefling-tails and backstories, which is fun, but that's not a self-insert to me.

Top three favourite tropes: Slowburn (or emotional slowburn, sexually complicated), Hurt/Comfort (emotional or physical, whatever), Battle Relationship.

What’s your current writing mood (10 – super motivated and churning out words like crazy, 0 – in a complete rut): How current is current? Because potentially 0/10. I'll say 4/10 though.

Share a random frustration: I hate psyching myself out of a project because I worry something won't make sense (and I should post it anyway) or that it won't be up to my personal standards for myself.

[artemiseamoon]

As long as I’m alive

Riley Moore (ofc) x TF guys | special guest Tyler Rake

Words: 6,510

Part of Artes Year of Whump (with comfort and fluff) | @yearofcreation2023 (March 2023 entry)

✨✨✨Summary: Stuck in a cell, in the middle of no where, Riley and Will try to survive and hatch a plan to find the guys, dead or alive.✨✨✨

Warnings: very heavy on whump, injuries, blood, ptsd mentioned, guns and weapons, self defense driven violence and killing, mentions of torture (not shown).

The guards verbally creepy off screen (but there is no non-con or assault in this - zero. So please know you will not encounter that in this fic at all. I just wanted to mention this for anyone who might fear encountering that in the story, you won’t, you are safe!)

Below is a preview * read in full only on A03

Preview #1 here

They occasionally give them food and water, but it’s sparse and not on a schedule. The last time food was given was two days ago, based on the way the light changed through the ceiling bars. It was a narrow space, not wide enough to be a window but open enough to let in small amounts of fresh air and sunlight.

“Will,” Riley looked up at him, “the others - do you think - “

Will took a sharp breath in, “I don’t know-”

Will hopes they're alive.

He kept telling himself they are, and he just needed to get to them. To think they weren't - that hurt too damn much. He loved every single one of them, and his brother - Benny, his kid brother who he looked out for and protected his entire life- if anything happened to him -

Will felt like he failed Benny, he's supposed to keep Ben safe, and now he didn't know where he was.

In the silence, his mind went back to that moment they were torn apart. Everyone fought like hell, every single one of them, but they were outnumbered.

It was a dark room, like this without bars; guns in their faces after fists had been thrown, they fought until they couldn't anymore. Bruises and blood on both sides, the captors and the captees.

They all blocked Riley from the men, surrounding her like a protective pack of wolves. Still, they were pulled apart, one by one, kicking and screaming until Will and Riley were the only ones left. Will nearly got knocked out when he attacked the men taking Benny, he hit the ground with a thud, and a ringing sensation moved through his head.

Will faded in and out, coming to just as Riley bit down hard on one of the man's arms, tearing skin, his blood on her lips. When he hit her, she fell down and Will dragged her behind him, then putting his body over hers.

After that, his memory got spotty. From what he learned later, from Riley, he went wild- attacking both men with superhuman strength and fighting his ass off. It took a blow to the back of the head to knock him out, then everything went black. He wasn't conscious when they picked her up and dragged her out of the room.

Sometime after that, Will awoke in the same room, this time chained to the wall. He was later blindfolded, gagged, then moved. To his surprise, he wasn't alone, Riley was in there. He didn't know why they were paired up, but he was thankful. He could protect Riley, and he hoped Ben, Frankie and Santi were all together.

Will felt defeated, he had to remind himself of who he was; the call tag Ironhead was earned, he survived all kinds of crazy shit that should have killed him but didn't, including the one gunshot that solidified the name.

Will was getting Riley out of here, and he was going to find his brother - he was going to find Frankie and Santi even if he died trying.

Will knew exactly how many men there were now, the group was smaller, as far as he could tell. He knew the face of every guard, their habits and their schedules. Will counted 44 steps to the staircase, 10 descending steps, followed by a left turn: then a count of 56 steps to that fucking room.

Along with all this, the other thing churning in his mind was the why; why were they kept alive?

If their kidnappers wanted payback for Lorea, Will and the others would have been executed on the spot, or delivered to what’s left of Lorea’s men. If this was about ransom, which was a possibility, they’re being kept alive for money.

Another observation Will made was this; the men were getting lazy and too comfortable. He's taken the beatings, fought back, and watched at the same time. His time to act is soon approaching.

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[allylikethecat]

if you’re still doing the kiss prompts, i woild love 9/19 for gatty ♥️

also wanted to say ive read p mi h everything in the gatty tag and think you have probably the most unique writer’s voice ive seen yet your characters feel 100% true ♥️ truly amazing

First, thank you so much for your kind words about my writing! There are so many incredibly talented writers in this fandom and I am so honored to be included in the tag with them! I have a lot of fun writing about the misadventures of Matty and George and I'm so happy that you're enjoying reading about them! (Eventually, one day, I'll update one of my fics on AO3 - for now I've been having too much fun working on these prompts!)

For the kiss prompts - I ended up combining these two, 9. Kiss…in public and 19. Kiss…for luck. I hope that was okay! If not let me know and I'll write you two new ones 😊 Regardless of if you wanted them combined or two separate ones, I hope that you enjoyed this fill!

❤️Ally

9. Kiss…in public & 19. Kiss…for luck 

Matty felt like he was going to throw up. The spliff he had smoked, what he hoped was stealthily in the bathroom, standing carefully balanced on the toilet seat to exhale directly into the vent fan, George laughing with his hands on his hips to keep him steady, had done absolutely nothing to calm his nerves. If anything, it had only made him more anxious, made him paranoid that everyone could tell he was stoned. Even after rehearsing all week, after playing these songs for months, after writing them himself, he still couldn’t manage to pronounce “thinking this through” properly, the words slurring together in such a way that it had become a meme on TikTok. He was about to fuck up the words to his own song on live broadcast television and then get ridiculed on the internet for having a speech impediment despite all the years of speech pathology he had attended as a child to lose his lisp. 

He knew, rationally, they had been on bigger stages before. He knew rationally, the slur of the line was attributed to his Manchester accent and not his childhood speech impediment. He knew rationally, that even if he didn’t remember it, they had played SNL before. Maybe that’s why he was so nervous, maybe that’s why his stomach was churning ominously, leaving him wondering if he was going to puke or shit himself with nerves, or if he was really lucky, maybe a combination of the two.

He had seen the videos of their SNL performance in 2016, he had seen the articles condemning his “weird” stage presence. He had been high as shit on heroin, drunk as hell on red wine and it was truly a miracle that he had managed the performance at all. He had hazy memories of waking up in the back of the car taking them to the hotel, having fallen asleep with his heavy head on George’s shoulder as soon as they were in the moving vehicle, to hear murmurs of how they probably weren’t ever going to be invited back. The track marks on his arm had itched and shame burned in his chest. At the time, he hadn’t even been sure what they weren’t being invited back to. 

But here they were, seven years later, invited back. Their fifth album was doing better than they could have ever hoped, their sold out North American tour had been met with critical acclaim. They were nominated for another Brit award and Jack had even accidentally on purpose let slip that their name was being tossed around as actual Grammy contenders. And they had been invited back. To play SNL, even though seven years ago Matty had blacked out and then apparently thrown up just off to the side of the stage, barely out of view of the audience. It was time for his redemption arc, time for him to show NBC that he was Matty Fucking Healy, and Matty Fucking Healy was no longer a liability. 

Even though he kind of felt like a liability, standing with his guitar in the green room, trying to remember why he thought being a rockstar was a good idea to begin with. 

The rest of the guys, and their backing band, where sprawled out on the leather couches, fiddling with their instruments, laughing with excitement as Matty paced, strumming a few cords as he did so, trying desperately to calm himself, to remind himself that he was Matty Fucking Healy. Worst case scenario had already happened last time they played SNL, so really he should be relaxed, it could only go up from here. His stomach lurched and he found himself scrambling over to the bar sink in the corner, leaning heavily on the counter, banging his guitar on the cabinet as he moved. He took a deep breath, and swallowed hard. False alarm. He was fine. Everything was fine.

“You guys are up,” said a PA poking his head into the green room, Matty looked up, seeing the look of concern and judgment that PA was giving him. He looked too young to have been around for their first performance on the show, but Matty was willing to bet he had heard about it when it was announced they had been booked. Keep an eye on the little curly one, Matty was sure some senior up stage hand had said. Last time he did heroin in the bathroom then threw up everywhere. 

Matty swallowed hard. It was show time. It was just another show he told himself. Just another show. If he was losing it in front of a crowd of 300 he had no idea how he was going to handle Finsbury that summer- they were expecting 50,000. He knew it wasn’t the size of the live audience. It was the live broadcast and what it represented.

“Hey,” George said, catching his arm just as they were about to step onto the stage, and step into the shine of the lights. He could hear Jenna introducing them, though it sounded far away, like his head underwater, which was surreal enough in itself Matty thought hysterically. “Good luck.” 

He wrapped one of his large hands around Matty’s lower back, skimming the top curve of his arse. He pressed his mouth to Matty’s, in a chaste kiss that Matty found himself melting into, trying to deepen, chasing George’s lips, even as he pulled back. 

“You’re going to be brilliant.” 

The crowd started screaming and Matty looked over his shoulder, realizing with detachment that they hadn’t been as hidden, hadn’t been as off to the side as they had thought, the studio audience had a direct view, a front row seat to George kissing him. 

His next thought was the Taylor Swift song, has anyone ever kissed you in a crowded room. Followed quickly by this meant that the audience did in fact probably see him throw up last time. A hysterical bubble of laughter pulled itself from his chest and he rested his forehead against George’s chest. 

George gave the crowd a sheepish wave before pressing another kiss to the crown of Matty’s head, before stepping back and making his way to his drum kit. Matty spun around and waved at the audience, moving into the spotlight to take his place at center stage, grinning to himself as they played the opening notes of Looking for Somebody (To Love). He already had found somebody to love.

[morroodle]

Okay so I watched Day of the Departed and OMG 😭 it's certified, I saw Morro smile and thought "BABY" and "omg what a sweet boy" it's too late for me now, the emo ghost has become my villainous babygirl. Blorbo status is unshakeable. I'm gonna be thinking about him for the next few weeks. I've also got a few questions and comments, namely: "lmaoo look at how he wakes up like an old man with stiff bones and aching joints" LOVE how Wu is just "hm what kind of omen is this" and Morro just pops in and out of the screen like a groundhog whispering ominously "bad, verryyyy baaaad" >:) and then is just :D CUTIEEE what a SILLY GUY I love him, silliest ever. How did he change so much between Cursedworld II and this??? It's like every ounce of anger is gone. Maybe the Preeminent really did affect him somehow. I always did wonder how he became so loyal to her. Also when he says, "He's made you forget one of your own. One who was already slipping away." for one, dang he is so different when talking softly and making worried expressions. second, I'm not the only one thinking about how that's JUST like Morro 40 something years ago. Him, who was slipping away, who was one of Wu's once upon a time ago. Oh, those words are personal. Not sure how he knew that tho, did I miss the part where Yang says he manipulated Cole or did Morro just come to a logical conclusion based on similar ghostly experiences? Has he ever almost faded away like that? And then the ENDING had me crying again, like its about that sweet look on his face as he says "happy day of the departed" and just peacefully goes back into the museum, I'm mourning so hard and crying and when the red lanterns lit the sky aglow, drifting a river of ruby lights into the night, I kept wondering if Morro could see them :( it's a festival for the departed after all, a signal, remembrance, a guiding light from heart to home. Idk what I'm gonna do now besides wander around tumblr and ao3, I'm fine with inflicting Morro onto my friend but they don't rlly know Ninjago enough to scream and cry with me and hnng the fic idea juice is churning, I can't let this go, it's not often I feel insane enough to write, I gotta get this written at least before I swap fandoms but with how many seasons of Ninjago I have to catch up on it may just stay for a couple months, I need to rewatch S5 until I've memorized his character 👀 then it's off to hunt down reputable, safe Ninjago discord servers.

Morro is just a silly little guy. A lil baby boy. Cutie patootie.

[yahoodarling]

Kazuha X (GN)Reader X Aether PART 1

Warnings: Mentions of Tomos death, obsessive reader, manipulation

This is a base to build on for PART 2, more notes at the end of the fic.

The air was in unease, a looming presences lay heavy over Kazuha and Aethers shoulders. They stood in the wild, enjoying some time wandering Liyues hills together until the scent of danger hung over them.

"I cant tell what it is." Kazuha whispered, eyes and ears on alert as he scanned the trees and bushes.

"I cant either. This is weird, i don't like it."

"Lets just get out of here!" Paimon said, hinding behind Aether.

"Get in the teapot. Ill call you when its safe, wait for me." Aether says as he brings the teapot out which Paimon hesitantly enters.

"Now that thats done we should focus."

"Agreed. Lets just make some distance." They both move to walk out the sandwood forest, still on high awareness.

"This alludes me. I cant figure it out." Kazuha said slightly frustrated at being unable to detect what he usually could.

"What do you think it could be?"

"Im not s-"

"Im rather hurt Kazuha." You jeer, appearing out of thin air thanks to the electro vision sat on your hip. "You used to be able to notice my sound even in storm yet you couldnt here, should i take offense to that?" You laugh with a smile. 

"Who-" Aether was cut of by himself as he looked to Kazuha for help, the look of clear dread on Kazuhas face made Aether hault in his words. 

"Hey! Whats wrong?!"

"Id say. Cant even say hello back to an old friend?"

Kazuhas face molded from shock to a slight grimace, his teeth gritted together. 

Aether was surprised, he had never seen Kazuha like this before. He stood on guard but mind ran with questions.

"Hmmm… i have time, why dont i explain the situation to you my dear golden traveller?" You say with a perky voice. "Come sit." You sit down on the grass and lay your sword to the side out of arms grasp, a show of temporary peace. Aether hesitantly sat down too, not sure how else to respond while Kazuha sat close next to him.

"You see, ive come for his head." You say with a smile. The blunt words made Athers stomach churn.

"Heres the story…"

The Kaedahara clan were masters of iron, their smiths skilled at smelting swords only true warriors could weild, every sword a unique build to match a unique person. Your family were a high ranking martial clan for the Shogun, masters of many wepons and worked in the shadows for her almightys wishes. Together the two clans joined, the one smelted the blades, the other gave each blade a purpose. You and Kazuha grew up together, both training to weild swords, enjoying practise together as kids, running in the wilderness as teens and striking down foes as young adults. Kazuhas skills were refined in order to understand a blade but yours were mastered and focused on. The skill difference never mattered, you both simply enjoyed the time spent. Two good friends became three and Tomo joined, a tight group forming and many nights spent laying in fields with swords and visions to the side and laughing at memories and stories to share. A close bond knit between the three of you, a bond that was put under a great strain.

"Just do it! Its the almighty Shoguns orders. We dont need our visions, we can fight just as well with out them." you tell your friends.

"Thats not the point, its what they mean." Kazuha rebukes with Tomo nodding along.

"I must agree, there is more from the future we can unlock. I cant just give my aspirations away."

"So you choose power over loyalty?" You sneer, disgust on your face.

"Its not that and you know it."

"Then what is it?! They wont stop till each vision is in their possesion and it is our duty as Inazumas citizens to follow our archon. What ever reasons she has is just enough for me."

"But its not for me"

You huff but you swallow your anger. "Fine. Im still handing mine in but i wont report you guys. Just, dont cause a mess." You give up dissapointed in your closest friends.

"Thank you" Kazuha says with a smile back on his face. "Even in disagreement we can still find acceptance, in that i find our bond special."

"Im gonna follow my families orders, i just hope they dont collide with our friendship."

"We will stay safe." Tomo nods with a confident smile.

"You watched him die." Kazuha interrupts. "You stood to the side and watched him give his life with out even a glance to protect him."

"It was his choice and i was under orders."

"Ive come to terms with his passing but… it still hurts that you just watched emotionlessly, unblinking at the death of our dearist friend. Does it not hurt you? Do you not feel sorrow in your soul?" He asks, almost pleaing. 

"Anyway, …" you continue ignoring Kazuha

"How can i forgive you?"

"It was his fault. I warned you." 

The rain blurred out your meeting with the newly declared criminal.

"What now?" Kazuha asks dejected, eyes empty as he held Tomos dim vision.

"Pass me the vision." You say sternly. 

Kazuha looks up with a face of disgust. "You cant suggest that… You wish to give his vision?! All we have left?! Handing it away would be like surrendering him to them, i cannot allow that."

"Its the law."

"What happened to you excusing us?"

"There is no more 'us', just 'you' so give it to me by orders of-"

"Shut it! Shut up please!" Kazuha kneeled down into the dirt, rain soaking him that his tears went unnoticed. He couldnt keep himself stable, faced with a friends death and anothers betrayal, the comfort he wished for was not recieved.

You let him cry, you wernt a monster and you were his friend but you also had a duty, to your family and the Electro Archon.

"Two weeks. In two weeks time i must begin my hunt to take you down. After Tomos stunt you revield yourself and i cant hide you any more. I apologise but i cant hold my promise, i did what i could but my hands are tied." You turn around and walk away, not allowing grief to take hold of you and only the battle lust and mix of frustration and anger take its place, what your family provoked and army demanded of from you. "For the Shogun" you say and leave.

After two weeks you took on your task and began to track down your old friend. In the months to pass it was a game of cat and mouse, a hunter and prey. The fact Kazuha still had his vision while you did not have yours put you in great dissadvantage but you persisted and soon your battle lust grew, the chase excited you, everytime you saw Kazuhas shocked and hurt face excited you. This became a game, a game that hooked you. You missed what you once had with him and Tomo but that was all gone. What you were now was one of the Shoguns dogs, happy to fufil your masters demands.

Kazuah took to sea and you could not follow, bounded by the law you had to hault your chase over Kazuha and move onto other targets. It was dissapointing and in time you missed him greatly in both lust and genuine sorrow but the praise from your family you recieved got to you, rising in ranks every reward and promotion you got resulted in the lust taking over more and more of what was once genuine until the only reason you thought of Kazuha was for the rush it gave you. 

The next time you saw Kazuha that same rush came, his aid to the resistance brought him back and you ate it up sadly it was short lived, you could not savor the hunt as the war ended so quickly. All of a sudden the Shogun took off the decree, vision holders could have their vision and Kazuha was removed as a criminal, it broke you, after so long of waiting for him to come back and now you just had to sit by and watch him go free? 

"It is done. The war is over." Kazuha says before you. 

You keep your head down, refusing to look at him to his face. 

He sighed, "I am finally going to put Tomo to rest, please, join me." He pleas softly.

You scowl, unable to accept the defeat.

"I will not." You say simply, ignoring the reminant of pain you have by habit.

Kazuha was about to tell you off, how you were being immature and selfish but he held himself back. To him you were a sad person, fulled with hate, confusion and unsettled anger so he withdrew, not willing to fight you over it.

"Good bye" he says and walks away, he never knew a few days after you ended up visiting Tomos memorial to grieve for the first time in a long time. 

It was a spark, perhaps you could embrace a better path, perhaps you could forgive and accept your mistakes but that spark was immediatly drentched away.

"How can she do this to us?! We gave her our everything, followed each of her rules and this is how she repays us? With a slap to our face?!"

"I cannot accept this, we lost. Its as simple as that and so easily too. Just what was the shogun thinking?"

Your family and other members complained, there were many outraged at how the war ended.

"My child," your parent called for you. "I want you to hunt down each main member that aided the resistance. You may start with whomever you wish but your new life duty is to erase them all, you hear me? Till your last breath you fufil this role. The Shogun has abandoned us, you may not listen to her rule any more."

Their order was conflicting, to go agaisnt your archon, the one you betrayed your friends for? But as the same time the news was exciting. You could choose who you wanted to hunt down first? You had someone on mind.

"And with borders opening and getting my vision back, im here, in the flesh. Liyue is quite different to Inazuma, its a nice breath of fresh air haha." You laugh. 

Aether looks at you stunned, the story you just told was not one you should just laugh about afterwards.

"So you are continuing persuimg me even if it goes against the Electro Archons rule?" Kazuha asks but more so tried to make you follow back into your loyalty for her.

"Im in the land of Geo, her word cannot reach these mountains." You chuckle and stand up, grabbing your blade causally and stretching your shoulders. Your movement immediatly gets Aether and Kazuhas attention as they leap to defence. 

"Now, we have the wandering Kadehara Kazuha and the golden traveller, Aether, two big roles in the war. Im rather lucky i can take down two birds at the same time haha." 

"Ready your blade Kazuha, i wish to see your improvement!"

Ayy, this DEFINITELY needs a part 2 BUT in what direction shall it go? Comfort/redemption or Dark content? I coukd turn it smut ngl… comfort smut or dark content smut. What ever way this gets recieved ill write the second part to the majority reaponse.  

Should i stick with this colour coded system? Does it make it easier to read?

[p-artsypants]

Down to the Soul (1)

In Which Hiccup is Cursed

“During a winter hiatus from the Edge, Hiccup goes off exploring the icy wastes. He finds more than he bargained for when a witch attempts to steal his soul. Now an emotionless husk, Hiccup must depend on Astrid and Gothi to delve deep within him and unlock the aspects of his personality he’d rather keep hidden. 

Meanwhile, the rest of the riders test Hiccup on how emotionless he really is.”

Ao3 | FF.net

I started writing this fic a long ass time ago. It’s the first HTTYD fic I’ve written in a while, and you know, it’s basically a character analysis fic. It’ll be great! 

Honestly, I hope you all enjoy it and if you can figure out what early 2000’s cartoon and early 2010’s video game this fic is inspired by, you’ll get a cookie.

Takes place during RTTE before official Hiccstrid.

—

Harsh Winter. The harshest part of the winter. Obviously. 

It was predicted that this Harsh Winter would be the harshest winter in over a decade, as predicted by farmers and partially by Gothi. So it was for that reason that Stoick called Hiccup and the other riders back from the Edge just before Snoggletog. Hiccup was not going to argue this decision, knowing that being home where there were plenty of rations and the safety of the Great Hall was a good idea for the impending storms. While freedom was good to stretch responsibilities, it was overrated in the face of freezing to death. So the Riders battened down the edge, making sure the native dragons had safe shelter, and returned home to Berk for the month.

Snoggletog was lovely. Gifts were given, songs were sung, and yaknog was barfed. Astrid even managed to sneak Hiccup a sweet kiss to the cheek after he gave her a dagger with a blade that flipped into the handle. Yes, it seemed that everyone was happy to be home for the time being. 

But, of course, the reason they had left Berk in the first place was to get some independence. Being back in a village, surrounded by vikings, many which they were related to, caused tensions to rise among the riders. 

“Hiccup!” 

Of which the leader was hardly able to get a break. 

“Hiccup, we need you to settle a disagreement,” said Mulch, with a crying Bucket at his side. 

Hiccup sighed. “Why can’t you ask my father?”

“We tried to, but it’s hard when he’s involved!” 

“Okay. Lay it on me.” Hiccup took a seat near the fireplace and listened. 

“Stoick’s had us breaking our backs hauling fish barrels up the hill. He says that since we’re the fishermen, it’s our job to do it!” 

“He has a point.” 

“But it’s hard work in all this snow! We need help!” 

“Did you, perchance, ask anyone if they were willing to lend a hand?” 

“No one wants to get out in the snow to help. We asked Stoick to rally people to help us, and he said that it’s our job to get help and that he can’t force people to help!” 

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Either make Stoick get help for us, or get some others to help.” 

“I’m so tired!” Cried Bucket. 

“Well, you guys know I can’t force Stoick the Vast to do anything. And it’s not really my position to tell the villagers what to do. I don’t have the authority.” 

Bucket and Mulch folded their hands together and resorted to the vilest of tactics. Begging.

“Please Hiccup? If we don’t get help, we won’t be able to refill the food supplies in time. It could hurt the village and the dragons…” 

Hiccup considered this, and as the guilt churned in his stomach. “Well, Toothless and I can help.” 

“Oh thank you! Thank you, thank you!” 

And that’s how Hiccup spent one of his so-called vacation days doing the arduous task of rolling a dozen fish barrels uphill. Thankfully Toothless did twice that, or it would have been a week long project. 

Hiccup returned home in a foul mood and a frozen leg. 

“There you are, Lad. Haven’t seen you all day! Get stuck waiting for a storm to pass?”

“No,” he groaned, falling into a chair. “Toothless and I were helping Bucket and Mulch move their fish barrels.” 

“What?!” Shouted Stoick, with real fury in his eyes. 

This startled Hiccup. “Uh…they said they asked you for help and you said you couldn’t force anyone to help them—“ 

“That is not what happened!” 

Hiccup winced at the shout. 

“Sorry son, I’m not mad at you. Not at all! I’m pissed with them! What did those lazy knuckleheads say that got you to help?” 

“Um, they said that they were overwhelmed and needed help…for the sake of the village and dragons.” 

“I knew it! I knew it, Hiccup! They played you like a fiddle! Rode on your emotions! Cut right to the heart! The reason why no one is helping them is because they made the mess in the first place.” 

“They made a mess? I thought they were…” 

“Didn’t you find it odd that you were bringing the barrels up from the docks instead of over from the store room?” 

“Huh. I didn’t really think about it…” 

“We all worked together and brought the barrels from the store room over to the Great Hall. Bucket and Mulch were supposed to secure them with a net so they wouldn’t get knocked over in a huge gust of wind. They decided to not follow my instructions and the barrels were not only knocked over, but rolled down the hill and into the sea. They then had to go out and retrieve them and put them back. Thankfully the water was frozen over so they didn’t float away.” 

Hiccup closed his eyes in resignation. He had been played indeed. 

“I should have told you, but I didn’t think you’d care. Looks like you actually cared too much.” 

“I just felt guilty.” 

“Aye. But sometimes a Chief has to put his emotions on a shelf to get things done. And that’s an arduous task.” 

“Harder than pushing a dozen barrels up a hill?” 

“Can be. Depending on the emotion. But, this was a learning experience. Take it as a gift.” 

“Yeah, builds character and muscle, right?” 

“Mostly muscle.” 

—

There were still a few weeks left of their quarantine. The blizzards had only continued, making flying a difficult, if not impossible, activity. 

But Hiccup, being the person he was, couldn’t sit by restlessly. Even the coldest days couldn’t dissuade his penchant for adventure. Cabin fever set in, and he was aching to ride. And so, one morning, he let his father know that he was going out exploring for the day. Stoick wanted to protest, but after seeing that look of wanderlust in his eyes, he knew it was fruitless and let his heir go.

Hiccup asked the other riders to see if they were up for exploring in the white landscape with him. 

The answer was a unanimous ‘hell no’.

And a ‘please be safe’ from Astrid. 

So off Hiccup went on his own, for once not having to babysit his teammates. It was just like old times. Just a boy and his dragon. 

The North wasn’t often a direction traveled in the winter, especially since dangers were often found there. But Hiccup didn’t mind. He bundled up in furs from head to toe, ready to brave whatever was to come. 

For a while, it was just ice. The islands were fairly barren and devoid of life in this miserable climate. But Hiccup pressed on, just content to ride with his best friend. 

Toothless grumbled. 

“What’s wrong, bud?” 

The dragon spotted an island down below, hidden within the ice and drifting snow, and prepared to land. 

“Oh, you want to stop there?” Hiccup adjusted the tail, following Toothless’ lead. 

Upon landing, Hiccup slid off of the dragon’s back and into the snow. Immediately, Toothless bounded over to a tree and lifted his leg. 

“Oh I see,” Hiccup said with a snort. “I thought I told you to go before we left!” 

Toothless merely grumbled and shifted behind the tree. 

“Fine fine, take your time.” He waved him off. 

Looking around, Hiccup couldn’t remember which island this was. It wasn’t very big, certainly not big enough for any dragons to inhabit. It was rather light on trees too. He wondered if it was mostly rocky in the summer.  

“I’m going to take a look around,” Hiccup called to his companion as he wandered off. 

The island, or rather islet, was divided by a narrow gorge, nearly right through the middle, east to west. It was dark at the bottom, and was impossible to gauge how deep. The wind whistled along the crack, making the depth howl with deep notes. Hiccup followed it, walking along the edge until he found a point safe enough to cross. 

Carefully, he stretched across the divide to reach the other side, but his leg slipped on the icy rock and he fell down the crack with a shout. He tumbled down a slope and landed at the bottom on his back. “Ow, gods dammit.” 

He sat up, rubbing his head. There’d be a bump there tomorrow. Surveying the slope he fell down, he found it too steep to climb back up. “Toothless! Toothless!” He called. 

There was no reply. 

Well, he’d have to find another way up. The gorge was long, and perhaps had a less steep slope further down. So he started his walk, going deeper and deeper into the caves.

“How did I miss this?” He said aloud, studying the particular landscape. The rocky cliffs were dotted with large geodes and crystals, huge, sharp and colorful. The faint light from above reflected in the crystals, sending little fragments of color all over the walls and floor. 

“Wow…this is beautiful…” 

Suddenly, he was grabbed from behind, as a hand clapped over his mouth. He fought against the hands but to no avail. His captor dragged him through a crack in the wall, into the island itself, through the caves, further and further into darkness. Finally, they reached an open room. A grotto with a waterfall on one side, now frozen completely in winter. Once brought in, he could see the room was alight with candles. A circle was drawn on the floor with red paint and inscriptions decorated the outside. 

Hiccup trembled at the sight, this was something evil. Something spoken of very rarely, and only of a warning as a sign to run. Pagan magic of the most ancient, but most cruel and forbidden. 

“You have arrived,” A woman said. She looked ancient, older than Gothi. And she pointed at him with a crooked finger. “I knew you’d come here. I saw it myself. This place would be where you’d be separated from those who would protect you. All alone, for the first time in years. And so I will have you for myself.” 

Hiccup fought, throwing himself backwards at the person holding him, but they didn’t budge. A rope wrapped around his wrists painfully, as a cloth substituted the hand on his mouth. 

He was turned around, and a knife shredded his coat and shirts, exposing his chest. The person who was holding him was a man, a viking, who was pale and emotionless, his eyes gray. Craning his head around, Hiccup could see others around him in the same state. All emotionless. All watching. No mercy, no fear, no excitement.

Empty.

“I will add you to my collection. You…with the most radiant soul I’ve beheld. Half viking chief, half dragon…” 

Hiccup’s eyes widened as she approached him with a little pot with red liquid. She dipped her finger in, and drew a sigil over his heart. 

“I’ll have that soul,” then she beckoned the man to bring Hiccup forward to the circle. All the while, he struggled, yelling through the cloth. 

The woman began chanting in a foreign tongue, each word sending shivers up his spine. 

He was tied down to stakes secured to the floor. He now lay in the center of the circle, heat radiating off of the stone that should have been cold. 

The evil woman held up a black crystal, one that would shine purple in the light. 

She kept chanting and a little spark appeared on his chest, right over the sigil, and Hiccup began to feel faint. 

A blue wisp, like smoke, rose from his body and curled its way into the crystal, making it glow very faintly. 

The woman chanted louder, her voice echoing with triumph as, what was assumably, his soul left him.  

But as the soul still emerged, a roar cut through the cave as the crystals exploded in a shower of blue light. 

“MMHHMMM!!!” Hiccup called with all his strength. 

The Nightfury swept into the scene and knocked the woman and her helpers down. He bit through the ropes that bound Hiccup and roared at him to board.

Hiccup stumbled forward, kicking the crystal away from the vile woman. “Grab that!” He commanded Toothless.

Toothless snatched the stone in his mouth as Hiccup clambered into his saddle. 

“No! No my soul! My beautiful soul! You ruined it! Now neither of us will have it! No no no!”

Hiccup didn’t have the time to consider, or even care about her inane ramblings. He clicked his foot into place, and they ran. 

Toothless easily scrambled up the side of the gorge, and then they were in the air. 

Hiccup swore he could still hear the woman’s anguished cries. 

When his heart slowed down from the adrenaline rush, he felt numb and tired. Neither scared nor relieved. Just a dullness that made him feel sleepy. 

“Still got that crystal, bud?” Hiccup leaned forward. 

Toothless pushed the crystal into his hand with his tongue. 

It was dripping with slobber, and yet Hiccup felt no disgust towards it. Really, he felt nothing as he looked at the rock, but something in his mind was yelling at him to hang onto it. 

What he did feel, however, was very cold, since his shirt had been ripped and his skin was exposed. 

“Let’s get to warmth quickly, okay Toothless?” 

Toothless warbled in agreement, and they hurried back to Berk. 

When they landed at the Great Hall, Hiccup went inside quickly and sought out the fireplace. 

“Yo Hiccup!” Called Snotlout from a nearby table. It looked like he, the twins, and Fishlegs were playing cards. “How was it in the blizzard?” He laughed. 

“Cold,” said Hiccup flatly. “I think I was almost enslaved by a pagan witch, but I’m not sure. Toothless saved me.” 

The complete nonchalance had the twins in stitches. “Good one Hic! So nothing to report really, huh?” 

“What do you mean? I’m dead serious.” He turned and showed the painted mark on his chest. 

“Whoa!” Said Fishlegs, standing from the table. “Are you okay?” 

“I hit my head when I fell down a gorge. I think I may have a goose egg. It’s a little tender.” 

“But didn’t she like…curse you?” He wiggled his fingers. 

“I don’t know. I think she might have trapped part of my soul in a crystal.” He walked over to the table and showed the rock to his friends. “See? It’s kind of glowing. But it wasn’t before she did this weird ritual.” 

“You’re awfully calm about this…” said Snotlout with skepticism. 

Hiccup screwed up his lip, considering. “Hmm. I suppose you’re right. I probably should be more concerned.” 

“Hiccup!” Astrid burst open the door to the great hall, snow trailing in behind her. “You’re back!” 

“Hello Astrid. Yes, I arrived back a short time ago. I’ve been warming up.” 

“Okay, what happened?” She set upon inspecting him. “Oh my gods is that blood?” 

“No. Just paint. I think. Well maybe. It might be blood. Not my blood.” 

“Apparently, our dear Hiccup was almost enslaved by a pagan witch,” provided Tuffnut. “Show her your rock, Hic.” 

Hiccup held out the crystal to Astrid. “It was black, and then she did a ritual and this blue stuff came out of me and went into this crystal. Then Toothless saved me.” 

“Blue stuff? What inside of you is blue?” 

“She said she wanted my soul. So I guess it’s that.” 

Astrid held the crystal delicately after he said that. The potential that she was holding Hiccup’s very soul in her hands… “shouldn’t we take you to Gothi’s?” 

“Why? I’m not in any pain.” 

“But…you’re acting weird.” 

“How so?” 

“Flat. Dull. It kind of feels like I’m talking to a brick wall.” 

“Hmm. I don’t know. I am tired. Maybe after a nap I’ll feel better.” 

“And if not, we’re going to Gothi’s okay?” 

Hiccup stared at Astrid, suddenly struck by the realization that he couldn’t read her. He was usually so perceptive and pretty empathetic to humans and dragons. But right now, he was at a loss. She was somewhere between sad and angry. Or maybe afraid. Not happy at least. 

This should be a cause for alarm, but it wasn’t. He even knew that he should be feeling panicked, but he was calm. Neutral. 

“Yeah, maybe after the nap. I’ll let you know if there’s any change.” Without much of a goodbye, Hiccup called for Toothless and they wandered back into the snow. 

“He’s a zombie,” Snotlout stated. 

“Yeah, major weirdo,” agreed Tuff. “Normally he’s all goo-goo eyes when Astrid walks into a room but today it was like he was looking at a stranger.” 

Astrid blushed despite the knot in her chest. Tuff was right, though she hadn’t noticed before. There was a light missing from Hiccup’s eyes and she intended to get it back. 

—

When Hiccup awoke three hours later, he felt worse. No, that’s not quite right. He felt less. 

Was the world always this gray? 

Hungry, he got up from the bed and climbed downstairs. There, Toothless was sitting with his father.

“Evening lad,” Stoick greeted without looking up. “The kids said you were napping and that you got in a fight with a witch?” 

“Yes. That’s right. She wanted my soul, or something. I’m not sure.” 

“Well, you’re home safe and that—“ Stoick halted as he looked up. 

Hiccup was so pale, so ashen gray, he looked like a corpse. His eyes were dull, and face blank. 

“Son?” 

“Yeah?” There was no inflection in his words. 

“How do you feel?” 

“Hungry.” 

“Well, I have some soup on, it’s not ready yet. But besides that. You look awful.” 

Hiccup shrugged, “I feel fine.” 

There it was again. His father was looking at him with an emotion he couldn’t grasp. Somewhere between sadness and anger. Perhaps both? Smad. Sangry? 

“How do you feel?” Hiccup had to ask, because he couldn’t tell. 

“I’m concerned. You look really sick. What did you say happened with this witch?”

Hiccup went back upstairs and grabbed the black crystal that he had left on his bedside. It looked to be glowing brighter now, if that was possible. He gave it to Stoick, who stared with concern. “It happened rather fast. I think she had some sort of future sight. She said the island I was on would be the first time I’d be alone in years. Toothless was peeing, and I journeyed away from him to explore. I fell down a gorge, and she was waiting there. She said she wanted my soul, because it was radiant. So she marked me with this paint,” he gestured to his chest that he hadn’t wiped off yet. He didn’t really care about it. “Then she took me to this circle with weird markings and chantings…then she held up this crystal and a bunch of blue stuff came out of me and went into it. I don’t think she took my whole soul, because Toothless saved me.” 

Stoick stared at him, his jaw dropped. “Son…” 

“But I feel fine,” Hiccup repeated. “So, nothing to do about it.” 

“Define fine,” Stoick demanded.

Hiccup paused to consider. “Gray, is the best way to describe it. I don’t really feel anything. I can feel cold, hot, hungry, and tired…but that’s all. At least right now. Maybe it will get better.” 

“I’m taking you to see Gothi!” Stoick wrapped an arm around him and tried to corral him out the door. 

“Why? Isn’t this a good thing? Viking’s shouldn’t let their emotions interfere with their decisions.” 

“Aye lad, but sometimes emotions are more than just a distraction. They make us human. You don’t want to lose that, do you?” 

Hiccup was quiet for a while, too long for Stoick’s taste. Then he said, “I don’t mind never being sad or angry or scared.” 

“But never being happy? Never being in love?” 

“If memory serves me correctly, being in love and not in loved in return was also not a good feeling.” 

“Why are you focusing on all the bad feelings, son? Didn’t you once tell me that flying on the back of a dragon at sunset was the best feeling ever? Won’t you miss that?” 

“I…I guess so.” 

“You guess?” 

“I can’t feel melancholy or regret right now either.” 

“But you remember what it feels like to do those things, right?” 

“Yes, but I can’t say I miss it. I don’t feel that emotion of missing something.” 

“Alright,” said Stoick, raising his hands defensively. “Appealing to your missing emotions isn’t going to work. But you know something is wrong, right? There is something wrong with you and the rest of us want to fix it.”

“Why?”

“Why?! Hiccup, son, we love you! That doesn’t stop because you don’t love us anymore!”

“I love…you guys…” he said it stiltedly, like he wasn’t quite sure if it was true. 

There was a knock at the door before Astrid and Gobber came in. 

“Oh good! You’re awake! I couldn’t wait around anymore–Oh my god, Hiccup! You look horrible!” Astrid cried.

“Like a corpse,” added Gobber.  

“See?” Said Stoick. “We love you and we’re worried about you. You should take that as a cue that something is wrong and should be fixed!” 

“He’s not any better?” Astrid asked with dismay. 

“He can’t feel anything.” 

“Oh Hiccup…” she pouted, heart aching for him. 

“Why are you upset? I’m not sad.” 

She reached for him and took his hand. “Hiccup, it’s not that I don’t want you to be sad or angry. I want you to be happy. So so happy! I want to see you get excited when you see a new dragon or passionate when you have an invention or a plan. If you stay like this, what drive will you have? Do you have any desires?” 

“Hmm. When you say it like that, it makes sense. I know, morally, I have to do the right things for the tribe and the dragons, but if it brings me no emotion…I get no joy from it or guilt from avoiding it. What would be the point?” 

“I think never feeling happiness again would make for a really miserable existence. You gotta take the good with the bad, lad.” 

“Okay. You have all convinced me. Take me to Gothi.” 

—

Up on the hill, the group met with the old medicine woman and told her the story. Hiccup recounted the whole ordeal, from landing on the island to waking up from his nap. The whole time, everyone just listened. 

Hiccup, normally, was a very good story teller. He picked up on details that others missed. He put real emotion into his words and made everyone believe the things he was saying. 

This story was flat, sterile, and clinical. Borderline boring. 

Gothi listened intensely, her eyebrows furrowing deeper with each word. 

Finally, Hiccup handed her the crystal that held his soul. This gave her the most grave look of them all. 

“Yikes lad. Haven’t seen Gothi look this frightened in a while.” 

“Can this not be fixed then?” Hiccup asked her. 

Gothi set the crystal on her potions table and began to scribble in the dirt with her staff. Gobber stood beside her and read over her shoulder. 

“She says ‘that woman soul-trapped you. An ancient ritual that removes the soul from the body so the body becomes a mindless puppet’.” 

“Okay. But she wanted my soul more than my body.” 

“‘Souls can be used in magic for a variety of different things. The more powerful the soul, the more powerful the spell. And Hiccup does have a very powerful soul.’ Well, now we know the why, but do we know how to reverse it?” 

Gothi examined Hiccup’s face closer, staring into his glassy eyes. She then demanded he stare at Toothless. 

“She wants to know what you feel when you look at him.” 

“Hmm…Toothless is my best friend,” he stated matter-of-factly. 

“Not what you know, what you feel.” 

Hiccup knew that he was supposed to love Toothless, but at this moment, he felt…”nothing.” 

Toothless let out a sad whine. 

“Now look at Astrid.” 

Hiccup did as he was told and looked at her. 

“What do you feel, lad?” 

Hiccup watched as Astrid blushed slightly under his stare. He tried to put away all the normal things he knew about her and focus on what he felt looking at her. 

“I seem to be slightly aroused. But that’s all.” 

Astrid looked mortified and halfway near tears. 

“Keep looking at her, lad. Stare until you feel something.” 

The longer he stared blankly at her, the worse she felt. It would be different if he was looking at her with anger or even disgust, but this look…it was like he was looking at a stranger. Like Tuff had said. 

She couldn’t help it. A tear slid down her cheek, but she briskly wiped it away. 

“Why are you sad?” He asked. 

“You’re looking at me like I’m a stranger!” 

“You aren’t. You’re my friend. I trust you.” 

“Can you smile for me?” 

He did. But it looked so fake. 

“I hate this! Fix him Gothi!” Cried Astrid.

“We might as well get on with it. Staring at her isn’t doing anything but making her sad. And I know that making people sad is bad, at least.” 

Gothi nodded and scribbled in the dirt her plan. 

“She says she’s going to make a potion. It will contain the remnants of his soul. The person that drinks it will fall asleep, and in their own mind, they will be able to explore and awaken the parts of Hiccup’s soul that are dormant. That sounds like a tall order to me.” 

“Who’s going to drink the potion?” Asked Stoick.

It seemed that Gothi was not looking for volunteers as she pointed at Astrid. 

“Me?” 

“Well, besides Toothless, you really know the lad best. And as smart as Toothless is, I don’t think he quite understands what’s happening,” Gobber explained. 

“Okay, I’ll do it! But wait…if his soul is going into my body, how will it get back to him?” 

Gothi made a suggestive hand gesture and Stoick and Gobber laughed.

“Makes sense,” said Hiccup.

“Have you no shame!?” Astrid shrieked, red faced. 

“Not currently, no.” 

Gothi scribbled further explanation. “‘His soul will return with prolonged contact. Skin-to-skin, hand holding, kisses, hugs. Whatever is comfortable.’” 

Astrid let out a sigh of relief. She did love him, but since they’ve barely kissed, sex felt like a huge jump. 

Though, taking his soul into her body was pretty significant in itself. 

Gothi went over to her table and began mixing liquids and minerals in a glass jar. She then put the crystal inside and put the lid on. She continued, “‘the soul tea will need to steep for 12 hours. Come back at dawn.’ Soul tea?” 

She held up the jar where the liquid inside was just very faintly beginning to glow the same color as the crystal. 

“Oh, I get it,” said Astrid. “Like regular tea with a tea bag.” 

“‘I will explain the rest of the process in the morning when you return. For now, go away.’”

[separatist-apologist]

You review ": From Blood And Ash + the other books. Look. When are we going to discuss the absolute antisemitism that ribbons through these books? I guess its fine since Casteel is so hot, but lets not pretend the whole shadow elite drinking the blood of innocents for eternal youth/power isn't just repackaged blood libel because it absolutely is. Ignoring that, JLA is a bad writer with no editor pumping out book after book to bleed her fandom dry. How many 500 page books of no plot are people willing to read before they move on?

Gurl, i-. i was onep of the people kinda follow the booktok book reco back inthe day. When ut was hyoe and love all across the booktok fandom. But gurl. I WANNA BE MAD AT HOW BORING THE BOOK AND HOW I WANA SLAP BOTH ML AND FL. I was so mad by how hype the book is. I feel betray by the booktok community.

Then i give chances to the Kingdom of wicked. Like hellooo?? This book is dar below kingdom of ash. AT LEAST, i remember that cassteel is the ML,pretwnded to be a guard, climb a tree wuth the maiden FL and black hair. But this ML in KoW?? I remember nothing of the guy. He so bland,no spice at all,all salt and thats is that. But I did remember he had a good body. The rest? Wth am I reading? Is this a fever or what? I dont even remember whathappen in that book. But i know the FL hs twin and FL grandma sounded fun to have in holiday and her cook can solve world hunger

How the hell tiktok love this book. Half of the booktok reco is a scam. Now, the only reco i take from booktok is non fic or anything not YA,fantasy and romance

I think my issues fall into two categories: is it bad technically (craft/pacing/writing/etc etc) but not harmful

Or is it bad (all the same) AND harmful. I have a rant, I'll put it under the cut

So like- who cares really if someone likes garbage? I like garbage too, we all rummage through the trash and pick our faves and while it's not for me and I don't like a lot of it, I don't begrudge people who do. Kingdom of the Wicked is here. It's boring, it's got a plot that never made sense and it's clear the author didn't have a plan when she went in. Whether she wanted to write her books as quickly as she did or was pressured, I think the constant pumping out books for consumption like it's television seasons diminishes the quality. I would guess publishers are riding author's hard to write faster in order to captialize on hype because it makes them money.

I also think the way a LOT of self-published author's write like they're publishing to AO3 is part of the problem. So like- leaving me a rude review is mean because I'm doing this for free and it's a hobby but author's ask you to consume their work, often for money and its disrespectful when they don't, for example, hire an editor to catch their mistakes and then turn around and make people feel bad for leaving poor reviews or send their followings after reviewers for pointing out the lack of quality and consistency.

Those things are, in my opinion, bad and I dislike it's usually white mediocrity being put on this pedestal over and over when there are very well written, GOOD stories by poc author's that are ignored in favor of another mid story of a dark haired abuser and a spineless sassy LI.

But then there are bad books that are also harmful and that's where I don't feel so nice and I AM judging people like. Very hard. ESPECIALLY when it comes to the blood libel because Jesus goddamn Christ it's like every 4 months it's another author saying "oopsie I accidentally put antisemitism in my book" like look at the Haunting Adeline author. At least she's sorry but it's really exhausting AND highlights what a good editor could catch if they had any respect for their readers.

JLA is offensive in my opinion because she doesn't care so long as people keep buying her padded books. She'll keep churning out books and if you say "you know maybe it's okay to be critical of what you consume, even if it's just for fun" you get railroaded with people saying you have internalized misogyny and can't stand to see women enjoy themselves. I personally support women's wrongs EXCEPT when they're perpetuating hateful centuries old conspiracy theories that have gotten people killed and are still spewed on Twitter by, for example, Kanye West.

And the fact that so many of these author's rush to write whats in their heart and what's in their heart too often is racism is a conversation I feel like booktok isn't interested in having and so people still uphold Haunting Adeline when it never deserved the hype (but at least the author said sorry I guess, and reworked her issues) and will say they don't notice the antisemitism in FBAA (lucky them) and they're just trying to have fun without ever considering whose expense they're having fun at or like. How the self-publishing model COULD disrupt who we make popular if people could move away from the same four tropes strung together by shreddable plot and a dark haired man with tattoos.

[daesungindistress]

A message I received today (she wanted it published):

“Hi! I was browsing the bigbang tag here when i found your account and I had a pretty interesting evening reading your blog! Imagine my surprise when I found out you were the RcA of carnivores...... i was surprised then not at all because I remember writing you a monstrously long review then you replying me with an even longer reply XD In that spirit, I shall give my 2 cents

i saw your various posts about seungrigate, in particular the hyungline's prophecizing abilities. To preface this, I don't support Seungri and I'm not a OT5 stan but I think these videos, while chilling to watch in the aftermath of seungrigate events, have become overblown in some sort of Bigbang history revisionism

The truth is, if GD really thought Seungri was going to go to jail, or had any side illegal activities, he definitely wouldn't have aired his views in front of cameras, in a DVD recording available to everyone. Similar reasoning to every other incidence of 'prophecizing' the hyungs did. If the hyungs really suspected Seungri's club was out drugging and raping women, the stupidest way to have resolved it would have been to take it to TV. Not to mention how suddenly chilling it is if the hyungs actually did know and were complicit in the crimes, which I feel like a lot of these prophecy video retweeters don't consider.

At best, they thought (and I too thought at that time) that Seungri was maybe making bad money decisions, Lee Sangmin style.

I think its comforting to think the signs were always there, that the hyungs warned him but he didn't listen, that their relationships were fraught because of the whole Seungri never eats with us memes, that he was never a good person and he showed it all along but the fans shoved their head under the sand. But to characterize him as a 2D villain so that we don't have to struggle to reconcile the person we idolized before, and the crimes he's accused of now is only a disservice to us.

Seungri wasn't the only one who skipped out on dinners- TOP had that habit before Seungri, and i think it was even mentioned in Healing Camp (the whole gold medal thing). Seungri did like and love his hyungs unless he was the world's best actor. He talked Jiyong through things in 2009 when Jiyong read the comments asking him to comment suicide and cried on phone. He cried on Jiyong for 20 minutes in 2012 because he was disappointed in a hyung he idolized letting him down with the marijuana scandal. He texted Daesung within one minute on that Japanese show when he said he needed help, and cheered him up when he was dying of nerves before his concert. He saved Todae from getting hit by fireworks in Malaysia by physically hauling them away. When TOP was represented by a tower in variety shows, Seungri blatantly mentioned his name in Radio Star when everyone pretended he didn't exist. The kid we knew existed. It's just that there was another, more insidious side to him too. This is NOT a defence of Seungri, I just think there's been a lot of revisionism going on lately, about his character and his relationship with the band. Seungri is a shitty criminal, but sadly a criminal who did love his hyungs and fans in some way. Not everything that happened in the last 12 years is fake.

i remember feeling very grateful when Seungri showed up in Act 3 Motte and hugged Jiyong and Jiyong smiled for the first time in that whole damn tour. Jiyong loved that boy, and mentioned he was family to him so many times. Jiyong was the most attached to Seungri IMO (I guess since they were roommates back then and all), but Taeyang called him up in the military when he only had one call, forgoing his own damn wife. I think, the truly heartbreaking thing about this, is that Seungri was loved by his hyungs, and he did love his hyungs too.”

***

Do you know how many asks it would have taken to get this message to me had you gone that route after all? LOL, alright, here’s my reply (some of which will be behind a cut to save y’all’s dashboards). I’ll quote the parts I want to address in italics.

“The truth is, if GD really thought Seungri was going to go to jail, or had any side illegal activities, he definitely wouldn't have aired his views in front of cameras, in a DVD recording available to everyone.”

That's what we all thought too... and that's why we didn't take any of it seriously and casually wrote most of it off as jokes, bullying, teasing, playing, etc. And while I'm sure it was that in a way, at least in part, you know what they say: there's a grain of truth in every joke (or "a little bit of truth behind every 'just kidding'").

Many fans are also taking this as a sign of how serious the others were becoming in their warnings to him, as if they felt it was the only way to get through to him. I'm sure they had private conversations off-camera, but if they were williing to do it publicly? On national TV? (Radio Star, for example.) That appears to say something about the weight of their concerns and their attempts to reach him. (Also keep in mind that they've said they rarely saw him outside of band activities, that he was always running off as soon as events with them had ended, so who knows... maybe they felt that on camera was the only real chance they had to catch him and address him in person. Maybe they felt like it was the only way he would listen. So many maybes.)

Another thing: TOP's rather astute comments about Seungri's friends (that they seemed like bad people, that they were using him, that they weren't his true friends but were only attracted to his fame, etc)... I personally would not have said those things where the public could hear them were I in his position. There's nothing joking about it, nothing at all. He was very direct in his delivery and it was not something that could be laughed away even if you tried.

“If the hyungs really suspected Seungri's club was out drugging and raping women, the stupidest way to have resolved it would have been to take it to TV. Not to mention how suddenly chilling it is if the hyungs actually did know and were complicit in the crimes, which I feel like a lot of these prophecy video retweeters don't consider.”

Okay everyone, listen up. This is important. In all these videos being referenced by fans in recent days, it's not possible that the hyungs were hinting at the drugging and assault that occurred at "Seungri's club" (I still hesitate to call it that) because Burning Sun did not yet exist when these things were being said. The club Burning Sun opened in February 2018. The last time BB were together as a group (as four -- GD, YB, Daesung, Seungri) was during their Japan Dome Tour in December 2017. And TOP? January 2017.

(read the rest behind the cut)

Further information: GD enlisted in late February 2018 and YB & Daesung enlisted less then a month later in mid March. Burning Sun opened in February 2018 and closed a year later in February 2019 during Burning Sun gate. The videos floating around in which the hyungs appear to warn Seungri come primarily from their 2017 Welcoming Collection (filmed in late 2016), Run BIGBANG Scout (shot in summer 2016), and from various concerts and fanmeetings throughout 2016-2017.

It is true that people do need to be very cautious when speculating about just how much the others knew about what Seungri & Co got up to, seeing as how, when it comes to this type of crime, awareness of the crime can be quite damning in and of itself. But once you take these dates into account, I think the others should be fairly safe from that kind of dangerous speculation. The question then becomes, how much did they know about what Seungri & Co got up to in their own time?

That I’m not overly worried about. They made it quite clear on several occasions that they hated his friends. Why would they have had any involvement with them? And it’s difficult to imagine Seungri inviting them in, so to speak, knowing how they were always scolding him for one thing or another. The way I see it, he found his own flock and kept a tight formation. Birds of a feather and all that.

“At best, they thought (and I too thought at that time) that Seungri was maybe making bad money decisions, Lee Sangmin style.”

This is the assumption most fans seem to be going with. Additionally, they may have had some ideas about his treatment of women as well, especially taking into account his 2012 sex scandal with a Japanese woman in which he allegedly choked her during sex, never kissed her, and threw a towel at her when he was done (and after which Youngbae and Daesung moved in with him, evidently to keep an eye on him and help set him straight. I don’t know how much truth there is to this, but I’ve read that he seemed proud in the scandal’s aftermath because hey, people were finally viewing him as an adult. Talk about embracing one's bad boy image.)

On that note: if he was in fact proud of himself for getting caught up in a sex scandal back then because he felt like it made him more of a man, then what must he be feeling now? Bearing in mind the influence of his less-than-reputable friend group of the last few years? He's currently under suspicion of hooking up with prostitutes and offering them to his investors to grow his business, among other things. The public is calling him a pimp (not totally accurate but ok). His conduct lately is not that of a person who feels he's done anything wrong. He might even feel a little, well... pleased with himself. Hence that small but self-satisfied grin he's been wearing everywhere lately.

Hmm... Just some thoughts.

“But to characterize him as a 2D villain so that we don't have to struggle to reconcile the person we idolized before, and the crimes he's accused of now is only a disservice to us.”

I’m sorry you see it this way because that's not my intent at all. My goal is not to paint him as a villain but to simply show that the signs of trouble were there and to suggest that perhaps we shouldn't be as surprised as we are about recent revelations. That this isn't really coming at us -- or at the rest of BB for that matter -- completely out of the blue. I don't know about you, but I find that comforting. Understanding what went wrong and when helps me to better come to terms with what's happened here, and I've been hearing from quite a few others lately who say it's helped them too. It also reinforces my confidence in OT4′s ability to carry on, because if they expected him to leave them in the near future, it stands to reason that they had been mentally and emotionally readying themselves for it. We the fans are hurting enough; the last thing I want right now is for the members of BB to be hurting too.

I'm also hope my readers don’t think I’m suggesting that Seungri was never a good person or never did anything good for anyone. That’s not it at all. Nothing is ever that black and white. I won’t forget them or try to erase them, it’s just that right now I'm not very interested in reflecting on the “good times”... and I think most would agree. Those acts of kindness you're referencing in 2009, 2011, 2012, 2013... you might have noticed that I've been focusing on conversations between the guys that took place in 2016 onward. Between MADE era and the present day. Alive era, Tonight era... I'm not interested in examining those years, because I'm concentrating on the period of time after Seungri met his new circle of friends (Jung Joonyoung, Choi Jonghoon, Yoo In Suk, etc) and began spending more time with them than with the rest of BB. I'm certainly not implying that Seungri was always this way, but I do believe he had the potential to become it given the right -- or should I say wrong influences. And he found those influences. Or should I say they found him?

Now, this is just speculation, but BB's popularity exploded immensely during Alive in 2012.  After that the members of BB went their separate ways for a time to work on solo projects. They came together periodically for YG family tours, I know that much, but it wasn't until MADE in 2015 that they were promoting as five again. It can probably be assumed that it was during that absence when Seungri ~fell in with this bad crowd~ (I hate to use that phrase because it seems to absolve him of responsibility for his actions, but let’s just go with it for a sec). I suspect the sharp rise in fame went to his head and he became... let’s just say susceptible.

(If there are any Seungri stans still here, feel free to correct me if I'm wrong about the timeline or chime in with additional info. My knowledge of what the members were up to between Alive and MADE is pretty murky, seeing as I wasn't "there" for it in real time.)

“When TOP was represented by a tower in variety shows, Seungri blatantly mentioned his name in Radio Star when everyone pretended he didn't exist.”

Someone brought this up in an ask that I haven't answered (sorry anon!). While it's entirely possible that he did this out of the goodness of his own heart, it's also possible that he did it because he knew it was what the fans wanted... and Seungri is nothing if not good at giving people what they want. It might not have had anything to do with TOP's feelings at all. I also wonder if YB calling him while in the military may have been done more out of concern than affection -- i.e., checking in on him to make sure he stayed out of trouble.

...and that's if Seungri's story is even to be believed, i.e., "He called me instead of his wife, can you believe it?!" Seungri is not above using the others to draw eyes to himself and prop up his own popularity (as he did when he name dropped GD constantly during his Great Seungri promotions), and given the others' comments about him exaggerating and even flat-out making up stories that haven’t a shred of truth for attention... just saying I wouldn't put anything past him at this point.

“The kid we knew existed. It's just that there was another, more insidious side to him too.”

That's really all it boils down to. Although I don't much care for calling him a "kid" anymore. I know he likes to play up the cute maknae role and all when it benefits him, but it's never sat well with me because, well... dude's a grown man, and calling him "kid" in light of recent events feels very wrong. That "kid" image is long gone, and I say good riddance. (For the record, I don't much like it when the others go all aegyo on each other either; with them now in their late 20s - early 30s, I have to say it's gotten a little weird.)

“Seungri is a shitty criminal, but sadly a criminal who did love his hyungs and fans in some way. Not everything that happened in the last 12 years is fake. ... I think, the truly heartbreaking thing about this, is that Seungri was loved by his hyungs, and he did love his hyungs too.”

I believe in... their love for him to varying degrees. Some were closer than others, of course. This is why, in a previous post, I said that I won't be surprised if some of them decide to stay in Seungri's life as a positive influence behind the scenes. However, at the same time, I won't be surprised if they choose not to. The thing is, you can still remain friends with someone but recognize that the two of you just don't work well together anymore in a, well, work environment. The bonds of friendship are important, yes, but as I think we've seen lately... it isn't everything.

With what we know now, I believe that the tension we've seen building between Seungri and the other members over the last few years was rooted in Seungri losing his passion for music as his obsession with wealth and power took over. Greed got the best of him. And I’m sure he was frustrated; there were things he wanted from Big Bang that Big Bang could not give him.

Although his hyungs surely still cared for him, more or less, I can see why in the last few years they may have been uncomfortable continuing to work with him if they felt that he was staying for all the wrong reasons. If you're going to be part of a group of artists like this one, it helps with group morale, to be confident in the knowledge that you all share a common interest and are working toward a common goal. If the others' goal was in expressing themselves through their craft -- music and dance -- and connecting with the fans through their work, while Seungri saw it primarily as a means to an end (i.e., "It's just a paycheck") then yeah. I'd have found myself getting pretty irritated with him too.

In the end, you can care for someone and still distance yourself from them, for an abundance of reasons. I think many of us have been there with loved ones ourselves... and I believe that's what we're going to see happen in the coming months when the others come back. Hell, it's been happening for years right under our noses; the difference now is they don't have to try to hide it anymore.

[erodasfishtacos]

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!

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---

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.

if you’ve ask to be on my taglist and you’re not here - please check your settings because i’ve tried to add you and it didn’t work.

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[saintlike78]

Hey, can you do a poly marauders x fem reader where they get jealous because a slytherin boy is flirting with her because she has a snake ring ? Sorry if that was oddly specific, also you can decide if it’s fluff or smut ☺️

The snake ring and the snake [poly Marauders]

A/N: I loved this idea! Thank you so much for the request! I decided not to do smut since I haven’t written a non-smut poly Marauders fic before, but I hope you still enjoy it.

Pairings: Poly! Marauders x Fem! Non-Slytherin! Reader

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: Fluff, polyamorous relationship, flirty Slytherin boy… Idk, but let me know if I missed anything.

_____________________________________

The sound of pages being turned and voices speaking lowly filled the large library. The book in front of you had long lost its appeal and the words were all blending together as your mind wandered. You were daydreaming of the boys that occupied your thoughts, as they so often did. Your elbows were resting on the table, your fingers mindlessly fiddling with the golden snake ring placed on your right pointer finger. You loved your ring; it never left your finger and you never intended it to. It had been a gift from your three boyfriends when you had celebrated six months of being together.

The three boys were sitting a couple of tables away from you, having been shooed away as they often were the cause for your lack of concertation.

They often spared glances in your direction, not actually paying attention to their own work, as they were just waiting for you to be done so you all could head back to their dorm.

You were so caught up in your little daydream that you hadn’t noticed the boy with the green tie taking a seat beside you, a small smirk adorning his face.

“I like your ring,” he said causing your gaze to snap to his face.

“Thank you, I like it a lot as well,” you said with a smile.

“A pretty ring for a pretty girl… it would be even more perfect if you were in Slytherin,” he said moving a bit closer to you. You figured he did so just to observe your ring better, you were painfully blind whenever someone was flirting with you, and it often got you in trouble.

You laughed a little, “I don’t think I would fit in very well with you lot, but it would be fun to try to be a Slytherin just for a day.”

“I could show you our common room someday,” he offered, scooting even closer, your shoulders practically touching.

“I would love to see it! I want to see all the common rooms before we’re done with school… I’ve already seen the other three, so I’m only missing yours,” you said excitedly, completely missing the flirty suggestion that the boy had insinuated. You were just excited, hoping you could bring your boys with you, so you all could see the dark common room in the dungeons.

It was at this moment Sirius decided to look in your direction; his jaw almost hit the floor when he saw you sitting shoulder to shoulder with another boy, not just any boy but a Slytherin boy.

“Oi lads, look!” Sirius said while pointing to you.

The two other boys looked up from their books and were equally as shocked when they took in the sight before them.

They all saw you laughing at something the boy had said and none of them missed the sly smirk that had taken over his face.

The jealousy was growing in each of them, a frown taking over their faces as they observed you, blissfully unaware of the Slytherin boy’s intention.

You were just too nice for your own good and loved making new friends, especially from other houses, which your boyfriends often admired you for, but right at this moment, they wished you would just be less nice.

“I can’t handle this,” Sirius seethed, angry jealousy churning in his gut.

“She’s just being nice,” James tried, even though all he wanted to do was to shove that boy as far away from you as possible.

They watched as you tipped your head back, letting out another laugh. They were all memorized by the sound of your pretty laugh, but anger boiled in all three of the boys at the fact that someone else was causing such pretty laughs to leave your mouth.

Sirius’ eyes rolled up in his skull so many times, you would think they wouldn’t come down again.

“Well since she’s no longer studying, we can go join them,” Remus suggested, to which both boys nodded and quickly gathered their stuff and bolted towards your table.

“You can come by later tonight,” the Slytherin boy, whose name you had learned was Harry, suggested.

“Wouldn’t it be more fun to see it in the daytime? Then I could see the lake as well from the windows,” you said, still not picking up on his intentions.

“We could do it both during the day and during the night,” Harry said with a wink.

“That would be so fun,” you smiled, very excited to finally be able to see the Slytherin common room.

“What would be fun, Bunny?” Remus asked, your three boys now standing by your table.

“Oh hi! Harry here has invited me to see the Slytherin common room, so I’m finally going to have seen all four common rooms,” you said with a happy clap of your hands.

Remus, James, and Sirius all mentally facepalmed at how completely gullible you were.

James and Remus moved to sit on the other side of you, while Sirius went with the more territorial approach.

He stood beside your chair lifting you from it, “Up you get, pup.”

He then, not so gracefully, sat on the chair pulling you onto his lap hugging you close to his body.

Harry sat beside you, moving his chair away, so he wouldn’t be sitting so close to Sirius.

“And who might this be,” Harry asked, slightly annoyed and confused.

“Oh yeah, sorry… these are my boyfriends, James, Remus, and Sirius… and this is Harry,” you answered, also introducing Harry.

“I was hoping they could come to see the common room as well since they haven’t seen it either.”

“Uhm, I thought it would just be us… Uhm, but I guess,” Harry answered clearly confused, causing your three boyfriends to smirk.

“That would be so great, so we’ll come later this evening if your offers still on the table?” you asked hopefully.

“Uhm, yeah, sure…” Harry answered awkwardly.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be so fun, isn’t it Harry?” Sirius said, not really looking for an answer.

“And how nice of you to invite our girl to see your common room, wouldn’t have expected such niceties from a Slytherin,” Sirius added in a passive-aggressive tone, seeing right through Harry’s offer.

“Yeah… no problem, mate.”

“But we’ll all see you later then… bye,” Remus said and waved goodbye, a not-so-subtle hint for Harry to leave.

“Uhm bye,” Harry quickly scurried off, not wanting to agitate the boys any further.

You moved so you could sit sideways on Sirius’ lap, so you could see all three of their faces when you talked to them.

“What was that all about, pup?” Sirius asked, trying not to seem jealous or angry.

“What do you mean?” you said with a slight tilt of your head, not understanding what he meant.

“You were going to go to the Slytherin common room with him?” Sirius clarified.

“Yeah...? I mean, I was going to ask if you could join right before you came over, but then you came and he said you could come as well,” you were utterly lost, not understanding why they all seemed so angry.

“Oh, darling, you are absolutely adorable,” James laughed, causing Remus and Sirius to do the same.

A frown pulled at your lips, you weren’t very happy with being the bud of the joke and you were even less happy with not understanding it.

“I don’t understand what’s so funny,” you pouted.

“Aww, puppy,” Sirius smirked and kissed your pouting lips.

“Harry was flirting with you, he didn’t actually want to show you his common room, he did want to show you his dorm room though,” Remus explained causing your frown to deepen.

“Oh… I thought he was being friendly,” you mumbled in a small voice fidgeting with your fingers in your lap.

“You’re just our sweet girl, being nice to everyone, even when you shouldn’t,” Sirius said kissing your cheek and rubbing soothing circles on your back.

Your face turned red with embarrassment, and you buried your face in the crook of Sirius’ neck inhaling his masculine scent.

“I just wanted a new friend, and I made him think that I was going to hook up with him,” you said sadly, your voice muffled by Sirius’ clavicle.

“It’s okay, Bunny, you’re just bad at reading when people are flirting with you,” Remus said, trying to suppress his urge to laugh.

“Yeah, just think about how long it took before you realized we were flirting with you,” James said with a small laugh.

You let out a small laugh at that, thinking back to before you got together and how absolutely oblivious you had been.

“But I would never purposely flirt with anyone else, I didn’t mean to give him the wrong idea,” you said lifting your head, wanting to make your point very clear.

“We know, pretty girl, we just want other guys to understand that they shouldn’t flirt with what clearly doesn’t belong to them,” James said, reaching for your hand across the table and squeezing it.

“But do you still want to go see the Slytherin common room?” you said jokingly.

“If we really want to see it, I could just force good old Reggie to give us the password,” Sirius said with a slight laugh.