#fuck it assume this is what he’s wearing in every fic i write unless i say otherwise

[nowyoursoulisforfeit]

I have said it before and will say it again: give Percy his thigh high boots and thing holster back. Just let me have this, please.

[cheolaholic]

ring of love; csc (01)

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

a/n; AND THE FIC IS OUT 💃🏻✨

ngl, i posted up the teaser at around 1am just to see how it'd go (was planning on deleting it right afterwards if nothing showed up). i woke up like 6 or 7 hours later and holy shit yall - i wasn't expecting it to get so much attention or blow up 😭 and it was just a TEASER 😭✋🏻 i've also gone through the small notes section of the taglist form (my favorite is the one that said they like my brain lol) either ways, i'm so glad you're all as excited as i am for this fic 🥹🫶🏻 it really means a lot to me <33

i'd also like to point out that i'm writing this fic as i go, kind of going with the flow, so, occasionally some things might not make sense but let's hope the flow goes well 🙏🏻

taglist at the end !

click here to join the taglist ♡

“hey there, babygirl,” vernon greeted as he took a seat in front of you at the library desk.

the nickname had you looking up from your laptop, shooting the boy a grimacing look.

“vernon, what the fuck?”

vernon chwe, an art major you had met on the first day of college during orientation, since both of you were in the same freshman group during said orientation.

you were entirely new to seoul, having spent most of your life in a small town in daegu (alongside your introverted nature, talking to new people while having to adjust to your new surroundings was basically an introvert’s nightmare).

when vernon approached you during one of the 30 minute breaks, he handed you a bottle of coke, a friendly gesture you appreciated a lot. that wasn’t what caught your eye though - it was his clothes. it’s not every day you’d see a college student wearing a bright neon tie-dyed shirt.

when vernon noticed your staring, he simply said “ah, yeah, the rest of my clothes are in the dryer. i’m vernon, by the way! vernon chwe!”

“...i’m ___,” came your response, “lee ___.”

from then on, you’ve both been stuck to each other like glue. always seen together to the point you both had been mistaken as a couple one too many times.

guess the saying of 'you're not real besties unless people think you're a couple' is true to an extent.

though you both have made it clear that the relationship between the two of you is strictly platonic.

the boy laughs at your reaction before shutting up as a few students shoot him a dirty look, a few others shushing him. “it’s fun messing with you, ___,” he said in a soft voice, not wanting to get on the nerves of the other students, “watcha working on?”

“just the usual presentation preparations,” you answered as you pushed back up your glasses and continued typing away.

“is this a group or solo project?”

“solo, which thank god. if this was a group and i had another bad luck on my groupmates, i was going to lose it.”

vernon cringes at the mention of groupmates. in your previous group assignment, you were stuck with not one, not two; but three parasites. he remembered how sleep deprived and stressed you were throughout the semester for said group project. he’d gotten you to submit an email to the lecturer in charge, writing out in extreme detail how you had to bear the responsibilities of the group members while they were out and about, partying, going out on dates etc.

however, you decided to go even further than just submitting an email.

it was the day of the presentation. as your lecturer sat in the front row seat alongside two other faculty members, you looked at your parasitic freeloading groupmates that were standing to your left.

“are you guys ready?” you asked in a quiet voice.

when they nodded their heads, you smiled as you pressed the clicker in your hand. anyone would have assumed your smile was that of an encouraging smile. you however, knew better.

as the first slide was projected onto the projection screen, the topic of the presentation was written in a big font while all four names of yours and your groupmates were written underneath it.

as you pressed on the clicker, one by one, the names of your groupmates began to be removed from the slide. the classroom was confused before catching on - you were calling out your group mates for being parasites.

your groupmates watched in a panic state as the students began whispering amongst themselves; the faculty members jotting things down on their clipboards.

once all the three names were removed with your name being the only one left on the slide, in a calm and collected voice, you said, “now, shall we begin the presentation?”

vernon remembered the proud expression you had when he met up with you the same day. “how’d it feel?” he asked, having helped you with your research and planned out the execution for the revelation of the free loaders.

“amazing!” came your reply with a beaming smile, satisfied.

“whatever happened to those three anyways?”

shrugging, you heard from some classmates that they had either gotten suspended or needed to retake the class. but, you didn’t care.

why would you?

if anything, you were glad you didn't have to deal with them for the rest of your studying years.

"hmm, fair enough," vernon responded before placing both arms on the table, leaning forward, "so, got any friday night plans?"

"if you're planning to drag me to a frat party-"

"not a frat party."

looking up from your laptop with an eyebrow raised, the boy just shoots you a smile - a smile that you can't help but feel suspicious of.

as you saved your work progress and shut down your laptop, vernon spoke again.

"have you heard of underground boxing?"

"i am not going to get in a boxing ring."

"you don't have to!"

once you've packed up your stuff and headed out of the library together, he explained more about the underground boxing.

it's a monthly event and is usually held somewhere in itaewon. when you mentioned that you didn't think vernon was the type to take part in these events, he replied with, "that's because i don't. a close friend of mine does and i usually go to support him with two other close friends!"

"and where do i play a part in this… support group?"

"don't hate me for this, okay? i just think that you could use some outdoor time, ya'know? i know you're introverted and want to hole up in your apartment the entire weekend, but it wouldn't hurt to try something new!"

you were silent for a moment.

"so, i'm a bore, is what you're getting at."

"what!? no! absolutely, not!"

when you let out a laugh at vernon's reaction, it had a few students around both of you stunned.

maybe it's due to your introverted nature that everyone assumed you'd be cold-natured too, black cat energy they call it.

but to vernon, he knew it wasn't the case. you just needed to be around the right people or in a setting you're familiar/comfortable with to be yourself.

'naturally introverted, selectively extroverted' as they called it.

"i'll go if you pick me up."

"does seven sound good to you?"

"yeap."

"aight, bet."

introverted ass: ik i should've asked this earlier

introverted ass: but is there like a dress code or smtg?

introverted ass: bcs i don't wanna show up looking extremely out of place

vrrnonie: casual should be okay

vrrnonie: maybe bring a jacket along

introverted ass: but it's a boxing match

introverted ass: wouldn't it be hot and stuffy from all that sweat

introverted ass: ?

vrrnonie: it's actually air conditioned, believe it or not

vrrnonie: and it's well ventilated too

vrrnonie: and there's not much people, dont worry

vrrnonie: the place can hold up to 100+ ppl

vrrnonie: but they usually only let in abt 70-ish?

vrrnonie: not wanting to be too stuffy, crowd control etc

introverted ass: so i'm assuming i can just wear my sweater and tights?

vrrnonie: yeapp

vrrnonie: reaching in 10 btw

introverted ass: wtf

vrrnonie: you can do your makeup in the car when we reach

vrrnonie: it doesn't start til 10pm so we can grab some dinner

introverted ass: again, wtf

vrrnonie: love ya bestie 😘

introverted ass: 🙄✋🏻

true to his word, vernon did show up ten minutes later at your apartment front door.

parking his mercedes-benz in one of the few empty spots, he then brought you to a diner he deemed to have the best burger in all of itaewon (of course that was after he let you finish doing your makeup, as he had promised you).

"so… how long have your friends been doing this whole underground boxing thing?" you asked, stabbing a few fries on a fork before shoving them into your mouth.

"oh, just one of them actually," vernon replied with his mouth half full of his beef burger. "wonwoo hyung acts as the manager while mingyu hyung and i are there as first aiders. occasionally, we'd help him train too. but, mingyu is the one he trains with since he works out more than i do."

"does this boxer friend of yours have a name?"

"i can't really say his actual name out here. but, his stage name is scoups!"

why does that stage name sound so familiar… you ponder.

it's now 1230am and you've been out way longer than you should be (technically, more like longer than you wanted).

by right, shou should now be on your bed, cuddled up in your blanket as you binge whatever series or movies are available on the many streaming platforms offered.

yet, here you are - in an underground boxing ring somewhere in itaewon all because your best friend had decided you should spend more time outside.

the match was nearing its final round and based on what you've heard from the people sitting beside you (vernon had left to go to the locker rooms where his friends were; but had assured you everyone is respectable and won't try anything weird. it didn't reassure you completely to be left alone in the crowd, but any kind of reassurance is acceptable at this point), it seems that the two final boxers would be JK and scoups.

(you had also taken a lot of toilet breaks due to the overwhelming feeling of being in a crowd for an extended period of time)

you still ask yourself why the name 'scoups' sound so familiar…

it was only when the loud cheers snapped you out of your thoughts, causing you to shift your focus onto the ring that you finally realise why that name sounded so familiar.

because right in that boxing ring, stood an old face you've been longing to see for years.

choi seungcheol.

taglist (i can't tag a few for some reason ㅠㅠ);

@yoonclip @1004luvangel @catjunhui @mystikha @spk93 @tinkerbell460 @yoozuku @dnylwoo @christinewithluv @limbomoon @plutoxxxworld @i-give-up-1234 @m1ngyuc0re @yunloyal @leclercloverbot @bettybeako @billboard-singer @ocyeanicc @krupyadoorrahe @seobinnieshi @xcynthiaaa @k411z @disneyprincesshuri @sunnyapp @khxsh @staygenezy @loufi8iepuff @ursweetener @noisypapergalaxy @wonwootakemyheart @sugainpinksweater @leah-rose03 @thisisnotthelastofus @yearnoclock

[daisystwistedgarden]

𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒆𝒔

a/n: let the record show this is not the fic i was supposed to be writing rn!! i've been working on a post about the character's prev hs experiences for the college au. but then @etheries1015 posted this fic about rubbing lilia's back and i read it and urgh. i couldn't stop myself. i also saw something going around about lilia using magic to cover up his scarring from the war and fuck that's so good. so i included it. here is my humble offering of a fic toying with these idea-- credit to the linked author and fic for premise!

content + warnings: lilia x gn!reader, suggestive, established relationship, pet names, reader lives in ramshackle, discussion of lilia's scarring + trust issues/evasiveness, reader debates if there's insecurity involved, implied further smut

word count: 1.4k

"you haven't been wearing your back brace recently, have you?"

"hmm... no, i don't suppose i have been."

"of course not. i saw you slouching at your computer earlier, too. no wonder you're so bent out of shape."

lilia chuckles from underneath you. you're almost certain there's a cheesy grin twisting his lips. knowing him, he's delighted by his own mischief, regardless of the effect it has on his body-- and, more obviously, he's delighted by the fact that you love him enough to do him this favor.

"you'll take care of me though, right?" he twists his head to peer over his shoulder at you. he's grinning.

"maybe i should just let you suffer. maybe then you'll learn to take your health more seriously."

"you're wicked, darling."

"no, but i should be. i'm too soft on you."

"you're the light of my golden years."

"yeah, yeah. quit squirming. i'm trying to get this knot between your shoulder blades."

somewhere along the way, you noticed that lilia has some lingering issues with his back. at first, it was subtle shifts in position on your earliest dates to hide the fact that sitting in one spot too long makes him sore. then it was the over-exaggerated stretching before every battle, always played for laughs but never skipped for fear of aggravating his injuries in public. lilia never outright told you he has issues with his back. you never pressed him on why-- it seems some parts of his past he'd rather leave behind-- but as your relationship developed, he became more comfortable lowering his guard and letting you into these parts of his life.

which is how you've ended up here.

ramshackle dorm's shotty yellow lighting comes off as warm and intimate as the sun begins to set through the large window nearby. lilia is sprawled out, face-down in your comforter. you sit carefully on his hips. his jacket and vest have long been discarded carelessly on your floor, leaving him in the button down he wore to classes. even that's mostly undone at this point. the ribbon usually tied around his neck is now bunched in his fist. you had, at one point, been discussing your day, but now the silence was only occasionally broken by the playful spats between you as you tried to urge your beloved fae to take better care of himself.

"that feels good," he murmurs as the heel of your palm pushes hard into the tough knot near the base of his neck. a pleased little groan just barely escapes his lips. "a little weak, but nice."

"sorry, it's just-- i don't want to crumple up your nice school shirt."

"do your worst," he replies. "unless you'd like me to take it off?"

"doesn't surprise me that you're so eager to strip while you're in my bed." now you're grinning.

his signature laugh is low and breathy. lilia is not facing you, yet you're certain his eyes have narrowed as he assesses the challenge laid before him. but you don't want to change the mood so soon-- after all, his back is still sore from the long day he had. you take the initiative to untuck his collared shirt from his slacks and slip your hands under the fabric.

there. under the pads of your fingertips, you can feel them-- the scars.

jagged. rough, still, even after what you assume are years of healing. the contrast between soft skin and scar tissue makes your touch falter.

it's important to note that you've never actually seen the scars on lilia's body. every time he's been shirtless around you-- from simple moments while changing to more intimate encounters-- his skin appears entirely smooth and unblemished. but the scars are there. no doubt. you can feel them, so certainly that you worried along the way that your vision was going bad for you to missing something so crucial. yet they never appeared no matter how close you got.

the conclusion you came to was that lilia was using magic to hide these scars from you, plain and simple. his motivation? unclear. maybe he was just more comfortable that way. but surely that took up unnecessary magic, right? you couldn't help but worry that maybe he hid them for fear of not being found attractive because of them. a ridiculous notion-- wasn't it clear how truly head-over-heels you were from day one?-- but you hadn't found a way to bring up these thoughts without seeming accusatory. maybe this was a molehill your own worries had made a mountain.

"something wrong, dear?"

his voice is even, but you can see right through the question. the lingering tension over these hidden scars hung thick in the air.

"... look at how bent out of shape you are, old man. i'm going to have to hide your controller if you don't stop slouching."

the joke successfully breaks the ice. any tension fades when lilia lets out an amused little scoff.

"i promise to wear my brace tomorrow, alright?" he acquiesces, shifting underneath you with the sort of old man grunt you've grown to find incredibly endearing.

"good enough."

you push up the rest of his shirt to have better access to his bare back. the conversation meanders to the events of the day, to the rest of your week, until the conversation devolves into jokes and teasing back and forth.

the air thickens, and a different kind of tension surfaces. silence fills the room, punctuated by the sound of your respective breathing and the occasional grunt or pleased groan from the man below you.

it's nice. his body is warm underneath yours, his skin soothing beneath your palms as you work his tense joints into languid putty in your hands. it's not often that lilia is so quiet and still for you. your lover is a vicious tease. it's a little surprising he wasn't tried to flip this situation on you yet. all this shifting and touching has left a pool of desire flickering to life in the pit of your stomach.

"my love?" you begin softly. the fae beneath you lets out a small hum of acknowledgement. "are you feeling a bit better?"

"absolutely," he murmurs, turning his head a bit so you can see his grin. he looks especially pleased as one cheek presses into the blankets, his eyes closed tight under your heavy gaze. "though i wouldn't protest if you continued..."

a moment passes where neither of you speak. your hands slide up the expanse of his bare back, mapping out the hidden texture, until they come to rest on near his shoulders where his shirt is bunched up. then they slide off of him entirely to brace yourself on the bed next to his sides. you lower yourself carefully until your chest grazes his back. his eyelids flutter, but they do not open. you can see his smile grow a bit wider in the meantime.

your lips press softly to the curve of his jawline. he lets out a pleased sigh. one ruby eye flickers open to get a look at you now that you've closed in on him.

"is this part of the massage?" he croons, low and breathy and all-too-pleased at where this might be heading.

"i don't know," you muse. "i thought about helping you relax in other ways... but i think your back's a little too weak for such strenuous activity."

a challenge. a wicked glint illuminates his eye, and his body vibrates under you as his signature laugh rings through your room. khee hee...

"my dear, i assure you-- nothing would stop me from indulging in such pleasures. a sore back means nothing in comparison."

he begins to shift underneath you in an attempt to roll over, but your hand pushing one of his shoulders back down into the mattress renders him still. he lifts his head, question poised on his tongue, but your lips meet his in a quick kiss before he can ask why you've stopped him.

"maybe it would be best if you laid back and let me take care of you?" you murmur, soft and suggestive. the hand that had his shoulder pinned wanders up to push the hair off the back of his neck, where your lips press another warm kiss against his skin.

lilia thinks leaving the house without his back brace was the best decision he's made all day.

𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 ❀

[moodymisty]

Hi love your fics. Would you be willing to do an angron x reader. He gets so little content

Part 2

Author's Note: You are my light, anon. Thank you for giving me the platform to go fucking apeshit about my favorite Traitor Primarch. Even if he's not a traitor (yet uwu) in this. It's not my best work, but I've been sitting on this idea for awhile now and decided to just write it before I lost it to time.

Summary: Angron takes interest in a poor young soul who's presence can soothe the nails, much to your own terror.

Relationships: Angron/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Uhhh it's fucking Angron?, It's pretty early so he's not as consumed by anger as he is later in the Crusade, Angron looks at another Primarch's serf and goes yoink I want that, He doesn't kidnap you yet but he wants to lmao, General 40kness so war death blood mentions etc etc (for those curious, this is vaguely based after canon, where it's said that the thought of Sanguinius could soothe Angron's Butcher's Nails)

Word Count: 2002

You have ten more minutes. You know once these men finish their set of training drills, you'll have to be back in the librarium. Your desk and it's piles of documents hails you like some sort of terrible beckoning call.

This has been your system for awhile now, as the frigid air blows through your clothing. The Astartes in training are entertaining during your rare moments of peace, as you lean against the railing to watch.

To think so few people will ever live to see an Astartes, and you watch them train so often. A luxury to be taken advantage of, you suppose.

You lean against the railing with more weight, your arms crossed over the ornate topping. They're so far away you can't quite tell what chapter they belong to, but you can see bits of white and red on the few men that are wearing pieces of their armor.

You wonder if they even know you're here, and if they did, if they'd even care. You're not of their chapter that much is for certain, as they lack the blue gold coloring and the stalwart regime that is signature of the Ultramarines. These warriors fight like it's a free for all, unlike the rigid one on one training the Astartes of Macragge are accustomed to.

You swear you feel the ground almost shake for a moment, but you just end up assuming that it's from the training down below. Or perhaps something elsewhere out of view. You pay it no mind, and continue enjoying your few minutes of respite.

Then there's a feeling in the pit of your stomach that makes your lips purse, looking up at the sky. You can just barely see the legions of ships moored close enough to the planet. There's always so many, even more so when a chapter returns to Terra for brief periods of time.

You hear footsteps coming from behind you; Heavy and armored. More than likely an Astartes, if you had to take a guess. It's better for your own well being if you just make yourself small and don't catch their eye, hoping they don't even notice you.

The footfall continues closer, and closer, until it sounds like they're mere centimeters from you. They must be passing by, until they suddenly stop. There's a shadow overtaking your form from behind, And when you see it's outline, you freeze.

The shadow is massive. It swallows you up and the ornate edges of the armor cue you into the fact that this isn't just anyone. Unless they are of a high enough ranking to sport such unique armor. But you're gut says that this shadow is far too large to belong to an Astartes, and every other sense in your body agrees.

It has to be a Primarch. You can see the absolutely massive shadow, the booming footsteps from earlier, and the feeling. The feeling alone makes you know well this isn't a random Astartes who's becoming oddly interested in you.

The sons of the Emperor are known to have what can only be described as an aura around them, which seems to affect anyone in there vicinity. How they react to it depends on the person, but for most, it's usually fear hidden underneath a mask of stalwart servitude.

Thickly swallowing, you glance as far to the side as you can to see if you can figure out which one it is.

You can see, gold. brushed, but faded gold armor. Beaten and worn though still containing a particular luster about it. Higher up your eyes travel, and you see a faded outline of something around the kneeplate. It looks like, spikes, or a crude representation of teeth. Up a little farther, and you see something dangling from his hip; Cleaned bleached skulls and-

Oh god. Oh god.

You feel your heart slamming against your chest. It's going to break out, you just know it and you can't do anything to stop it.

It's not as if coming face to face with any Primarch is something to be taken lightly. But this isn't The Angel or The Raven. This isn't even your own Primarch Guilliman, who you've only seen a few times in your life.

This is Primarch Angron.

You can't run from him. He'd kill you within an instant if not for the sheer disrespect of it, but for triggering something in him that makes him think you're prey. You only hope that you can hold strong enough that he doesn't hear your heartbeat, or how your trying not to shake in your boots.

Slowly you turn your head more, eyes trailing up his legplate, then his chestplate, before finally reaching his face.

The metal cords coming from his head fall over his armored shoulders almost like chunks of hair, though distinctly old and worn. The metal is rugged; Beaten and warped. Underneath some of them you can see deep red tattoos, some of which trail onto his face. They're warped and shifted by his numerous scars, scattered across his face from forehead to neck. They're all old, long healed and forever telling a story that only he knows.

His eyes bear down on you, the deep red unreadable. He isn't reacting to you at all, but that angered expression is permanently spread across his face. The deep furrow in his brow, the look in his eyes. He's like a pot constantly on the edge of boiling over and scalding everything close.

He has to be toying with you. Like a Fenrisian wolf tossing it's broken, beaten prey up in the air like a game before finally taking the final bite. Is there any other reason why someone who dances along the line between man and god would look your way? Is he just waiting to see how long until you react?

But as quickly as he arrived, he leaves. Turns on one massive armored boot and begins walking down the gilded hallway.

You only have the will to turn your head and watch him move away when he's taken more than a dozen steps away, seeing the battered gold of his armor. His thick furred cape just barely brushes the ground- the frayed edge ripped from endless wear and tear flowing behind him . You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and look back down towards the training Astartes. You peel your hands away from the railing you didn't realize you'd been holding with a death grip, palms slick with sweat.

You hoped desperately that it would be the only time you'd see the Primarch of the World Eaters. To survive once you'd already consider a miracle.

But it wasn't. Maybe the gods that are whispered about in various tomes have something planned for you. Maybe it's some sort of sick joke.

You see him once more not long later, and the exact same interaction occurs. You don't say a word, he doesn't either, and you assume you either pass some sort of trial only he knows or he just grows bored of you, and leaves.

The third time however, you dare to speak.

"Lord Primarch, do you, require something of me?"

Your voice is so soft he barely hears it, over the sound of clashing weaponry and fists on flesh. You look up at him but hesitate to look him in the eyes, but his own look traps you none the less.

You're a librarian or historitor of some sort in allegiance to the Ultramarines. He recognizes the blue and gold symboling embroidered onto your clothing from the various Astartes that traipse around with it plastered all over their armor, and their fancy, hand woven capes.

Gawdy and pointless. You'd topple over your own robes if you tried to run.

But you aren't running, aren't you?

Other serfs he passes by crumple like paper and plastic flimsies, but you're holding strong; A steel box that might be crumpling and walls concaving but still held together.

Angron looks to his left and over the railing out onto the vast open area. Khârn is out there, training Neophytes and newly blooded World Eaters. The warrior has no need for the diplomacy that you're more than likely used to from the Ultramarines, as Gorechild smashes into a thick plating of ceramite with one heavy swing. It sends the Neophyte to the ground in a split second. He looks back towards you, and notices that while your eyes glanced for a moment to follow his own, they now look back at him.

"You enjoying watching them fight." It's what he's found you doing every time he's passed you.

But it takes you a moment until you look up and see that he's staring at you, and that he wants an answer from you.

"Yes. I do."

You see his hand reach out, massive- Your eyes blink closed for just a moment in preparation for whatever he was about to inflict on you.

But instead, he grabs your jaw.

It still hurts, squishing your skin upward and forcing you to look up at him from an awkward angle, but it's far better than dying. You notice the way he stares at you.

He stares back, watching as your wide eyes dart around his face looking for answers.

Then he feels it.

He feels the stabbing, shrieking, aching pain of his nails dull ever so slightly as he watches. Glances over your soft skin. Meets your eyes. So the first time hadn't just been a trick of the light.

Your hands are frozen hovering at waist height, trying to figure out what you should do. Should you put them down, hold completely frozen until he finds or doesn't find whatever he's looking for in you? Or should you reach up and dare to touch the tarnished golden armor that has such a hold of you?

"Lord Primarch?" You mutter, hoping for an answer he doesn't seem keen on giving.

If anyone has passed by this scene they've not so much as uttered a word. None of them would, you'd have to be insane to interrupt a Primarch doings. You wonder for a moment if this scene would look comical from another's point of view.

One of your hands reaches up, shaking as you place it on the armor of his forearm. It's almost hilariously tiny- but much to your surprise the armor feels less cold that you would've thought. You place it there in the rough area of his wrist and try gently hold on and support yourself.

You're still petrified; Angron can see that emotion no matter how deep it's layered beneath other emotions on someone's face. When young men were thrown at him to die in those sandy pits, and he'd see the fear hidden underneath their anger. But as it fades and you become more confused by him than frightened, he feels yet another soothing wave go over his Butcher's Nails.

It's nowhere near enough- they still rip through his brain demanding him to kill to main to scream and bellow, but to edge that away just slightly is to give him relief he hasn't felt since before they dug this hideous tech deep into the recesses of his skull.

He doesn't know what it is about you that's doing it, but he knows he wants it. He wants you.

"Your name. What is it."

You stutter for a moment before speaking. The name is foreign; But given you more than likely hail from one of the many planets under Guilliman's rule, it makes sense.

His fingers shift over your face, and your jaw aches. He notices your hand on his arm and when he lets go, you use that same hand to rub your face.

He'll have to be careful. You're more breakable than him. But if you can dull the pain that sears through his head at every aching moment, then perhaps he'll have enough room in his head to spare the thought to be.

[ambersky0319]

Alright I need to destress AND kickstart my memory of nnt so! Gonna do a rewatch and write out some thoughts (inspired by @spacehostilityy and their rewatch posts, go check 'em out! 💜)

Gonna be using the tag #amber rewatches nnt btw ^^

Also might talk about Eternal a bit idk yet but keep in mind the rewatch is also to help me write that 😅 also also doing each post by episode because I ramble far too much at every little thing.

Enjoy the rambles!

Masterpost

Episode 1

Honest to god forgot about those flying sting ray things, and especially forgot they're one of the first things we see in the show!

The art? For the opening sequence?? Is so cool????

Like those things that can shapeshift in the forest Diane hides in are in there? And MAYBE Gerheade? Idk about her but one of the fairies look a LOT like her/has a dress very similar to the one we see her wear AND she's bigger than the other fairies

And are there any demons with feathered wings besides the blue bird like things? Because if not there's an armored character with wings like the goddesses (who only have 1 pair of wings in the art) on the DEMON side. Probably just digging into this too deep, but it'd be REALLY cool if that was foreshadowing Estarossa/Mael

I really wish Elizabeth had muscles and wasn't CONSTANTLY portrayed as being physically pretty weak (at least that's how it comes across to me - in fights she's constantly told to run/is never given any chance TO fight physically). Because she literally can't be?

Like Elizabeth has been walking REAL FAR in that armor and it is DEFINITELY not light. Do you know the strength she'd have to have to move that? She also slumps in it and her footsteps are slow/small so it IS weighing her down but the fact that she can move in it as far as she has - and probably up and down hills too without falling - is impressive

Anyway reminder to myself to show Elizabeth being physically strong in my fics from now on. This is canon now and no one can fight me.

Also the shot of Elizabeth on the hill in the armor with the sun glaring through?? It's such a gorgeous shot??????

Meliodas may be a shit cook but damn is he a pretty good server

Like mans got the entire tavern full and he's serving it basically alone cause Hawk cleans the scraps doesn't serve people booze and every customer is pretty happy and having fun (until they have the food lol)

I FORGOT HAWKS TAG SAID STAR BOAR AAAAASJDJFJDHF

Wonder at which point in time the whole telling your children "if you keep misbehaving one of the seven deadly sins will come for you in armor that's rusty from blood" because it HAD to be in the past 10 years, right? Unless people were saying that while they were still respected holy knights in which case,,,, ooof

But I'd assume a little after Zaratras was first killed

But also I wouldn't put it past this dude maybe coming up with it to scare his children lol he seems like a tired dad type

And here comes all the parts I hate

The groping and sexualization

Elizabeth is like. Fucking 16. And Meliodas DEFINITELY knows that. And just. Ugh

I do like Elizabeth in this color tho- the dark blue really suits her! It's why her uniform post-Meliodas' death is my favorite of all her outfits

How many talking pigs are there in Britannia??? Because Hawk's from purgatory and I figured THAT was why he could talk

And many other people get super confused/shocked by Hawk talking so it can't be common

When Elizabeth said with the most dejected face "no" after he asked if her father got her a talking pig Meliodas looked momentarily like "that bitch."

Let's be real he would've totally gotten her a talking pig somehow

Then he instant switches the conversation to try making her feel better 💜💜💜💜

I'm sorry, the order of WHAT?

"the Order of the Beard of the Mountain Cat"

Is this a translation error? Because if not... I have found my new favorite order and I am no longer worried about naming things in my own stories with ridiculous things

(also btw I watch in Japanese with English subs)

Wonder how the Boar Hat got so popular in this town in a matter of days. Like the booze is good sure but how tf did people find that out and who was the first person courageous enough to go poking around

Yknow. I'm surprised they didn't believe Hawk was the rust knight. I mean, the people who reported it had to be drunk right? Who's to say they weren't so drunk they mistook a pig in armor as the rust knight?

Damn Elizabeth is pretty agile! She's running across roots and jumping over things pretty efficiently!

Like as clumsy as she is, she still got some skills that they NEVER UTILIZE!

Also YOU CAN SEE THE FRAME MELIODAS GRABS HER AND JUMPS WITH HER I- HOW DID I NEVER CATCH THAT???!!

THAT SONG IN THE BG UUGGHHGHGHG

THIS ONE. I LOVE THIS SONG SO MUCH. MY HEART.

I forget if we go over how Hawk and Meliodas met/how far we go into their backstory

Like is he in on Meliodas being a Sin/previous Holy Knight or does he really just not know? (because there's no way Meliodas isn't at least a little wary of Holy Knights himself, hiding for 10 years no matter how in plain sight he is)

I mean. Elizabeth. Sweetheart. Your dad IS laid up in bed sick. It just so happens that the holy knights ALSO arrested the rest of your family and refuse to get your dad help (I think? Cause Merlin has to magically treat the king for his illness later and I assume the holy knights would be wary of letting a doctor treat him. Maybe Vivian was treating him?)

Unless Elizabeth didn't know her father was sick. In which case. Oooooooof. What a reunion later if that's true

Meliodas 🤝 Zuko : "That's rough buddy"

I forget what crime Merlin committed, because Elizabeth says the Sins are "composed of seven terrible criminals" unless she's not actually a criminal when they formed at least

Ahhh that's right, Elizabeth probably wouldn't remember the sins well because they had to leave when she was 6-

Although I wonder if Meliodas also tried to make himself scarce around her once she got to the age where she would retain memories better to avoid the curse activating somehow? Because I have a shit memory but most people do tend to remember things, even vaguely, from the ages 3-6 (my friends and I all have our earliest memory around 2-3)

Meliodas stiff as a board falling when Twigo attacked lmao-

It does make me happy to see some knights in Britannia, even if they're not Holy Knights, try to confront Holy Knights. Sure they backtrack but like, who wouldn't in the face of that power?

Twigo got awesome eyesight to see Elizabeth's earring from that far, nevermind it's DESIGN. Like damn I got 20/20 vision but I doubt I'd ever SPOT that

I was gonna say how tf did Allioni realize it was Meliodas/how would he see Meliodas' tattoo but going back his shirt was already ripped in that general area so! Continuity win!

He be shitting his pants too lol man was holding the most dangerous Sin up and yelling in his face, and he's SEEN what the sins can do

Wonder if he retired after this. I wouldn't blame him

PERFECT TIME KICKING IN WOOOOOOO

Also Twigo recognizes his face? And says "how can you look exactly the same as you did that day" Was he the old guard that showed Allioni the Sins' carnage? Or was he a Holy Knight that survived that attack?

I guess he also could've just been an apprentice Holy Knight too that recognized him but asking that question to me hints that Twigo tried fighting the Sins with everyone else

Netsujou no Spectrum is such a great song too. The NNT soundtrack is amazing

Is the tavern a recent development for Meliodas??? What was he up to before getting the tavern but after going into hiding?

This also brings up how I really don't remember what time in his backstory he meets Hawk. I just remember they met in jail

This town is in the boonies Twigo how long do you expect this trio to wait until you can not only get a message to the capital, but receive reinforcements??

Mama Hawk best murderer

Oh nvm she missed :/

"Was our meeting chance or Providence?" man I wish I could say for sure it was chance and she got damn lucky (it'd be cool imo to explore how things would've gone if she'd found one of the others first) but. With the curse and all... There's a VERY good chance it was Providence

"I hope it's a real one this time" - Gilthunder

Okay so... When does he get in contact with King then? I'm pretty sure we SEE them interact around Ban escaping Baste but like. Gilthunder would have to know that's where King was before that. When do the Holy Knights find and make a deal with King?

And that's my thoughts going through Episode One!

Don't know how often I'm gonna do these, maybe after Wednesday I'll do a lot more? Idk we'll see

If you made it this far, you're awesome! Lmk who your favorite character is and I'll do a quick drawing of them for you if you want 💜

[alisha-on-arcane]

Zaun culture/ normal life/ setting headcanons

Headcanons I realised I have while writing this finished Vander/Silco revolution-and-betrayal fic.

- Zaunite parenting is quite communal, as a matter of culture. Kids typically run around the street together and are vaguely watched by all the adults present. Mixed families happen a lot simply because life is dangerous, and Zaunite adults are  expected to take on orphans if they are the best placed person to do so. This often segues into children working very young. Piltovan views on this cultural practice are considered classist slurs by Zaun patriots like Vander and Benzo. (Silco is, in this fic, in a league of his own when it comes to "thinking fucked-up things are okay" but it's not entirely his fault). - Zaunites use “brother”, “uncle”, “sister” etc in a very inclusive way that does not imply biological or necessarily even adoptive family relationship (which lots of real-world cultures do too).  Again, Piltovans assume this is because biological incest is very common in Zaun, which is not true and is an insensitive slur. (But every time Silco calls Vander “brother” in Arcane, apart from the last one, he’s spitting the word out because they were more than that and Vander is pretending they weren’t and he definitely does not want Vander back as more than brothers-in-arms, of course not, *hurt hiss*).  Though adoptive relationships are very much considered real family, so “sister” or “brother” can be used very literally in context.

- The Lanes is just one district of Zaun, specifically that controlled/ policed by Vander and Benzo as of Act 1. Vander is an influential figure in wider Zaun, but he's not necessarily the top dog. Silco set up his crime headquarters in Vander's pub after being implored to "spare the Lanes" in an act of pure spite by Silco. (And I love him for it). - Many Zaunites are day workers in Piltover. There is continual political tension between Piltovan business interests who rely on the cheaper labour (who are generally aligned with Zaunite interests on this), and those who would restrict or monitor access to Piltover from Zaun. The latter say that Zaunite criminals commit crimes in Piltover and run back to hide in the undercity, which is often true. - The air in the undercity is breathable to all but is a major driver of sickness and early death for Zaunites. The causes are both natural (fissure gases) and artificial (emissions from Zaun-owned chemtech factories and from other industrial activity that Piltover outsources to Zaun). It may have improved between Arcane Act 1 and 2; it's possible Silco did actually do some of the easier measures about reducing factory emissions (catalytic scrubbers, etc) or possibly the balance of industry in Zaun just changed a bit. - Zaunites who have not made body modifications/ been injured to ensure an asymmetrical appearance can pass as Piltovans quite easily with a change of clothes. This happens rarely enough that Piltovans don't expect it at all. Proud Zaunites wear asymmetrical clothes or at least have asymmetrical hair unless they are really, really up to something. - there is a group of Piltovans, mostly students, who protest peacefully for Zaun independence. It's mostly as ridiculous as you'd expect but I love them for trying. - The mines are probably not in central Zaun and not worked by voluntary day labourers. Jayce refers to them as “mining colonies” which sounds like a euphemism, and Silco says “the mines they had us in” (plus a writer saying on Twitter that he “grew up in the mines”) which gives us a very dark picture of what the mines might be like.

[frostedfaves]

Naive (2)

Masterlist

Pairing: demon!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: You quickly discover that Wanda is different during the night.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark!fic, demon things™️, mental manipulation, smut: oral, fingering, overstimulation, edging, penetration, sex toy use, dom/sub dynamics, biting, slapping(? just a lil)

A/N: no more thoughts except please share your own after reading this! writing this slutty shit kept me sane today so enjoy

Previous part

-

To your surprise and relief that eventually transformed into disappointment, Wanda didn’t make an appearance at all for the rest of the week. You spent each shift for the next few days anticipating her return, watching for her over the heads of shorter customers and through the shelves on your way in and out of the bookstore. You were starting to think that she was simply passing through your town and you were just lucky enough to cross paths with her.

“Hi there.”

“Wanda!” you yelp after looking up from your phone hidden behind the register, clearing your throat as you tuck it in your pocket. “Um, can I get you anything?”

“I’m surprised you remember me,” she laughs. “I’m sure you get hundreds of customers a day.” 

“You left a lasting impression,” you admit before you can stop yourself and she grins.

“So did you.”

There’s a brief pause before she adds your name to the end of her sentence with a flicker of something unrecognizable in her eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. Not knowing what else to do with yourself, you go to ask again what she’d like in the same moment she places a bottle of water on the counter.

“I got a really good recommendation the last time I was here, and I’d like to have it again.”

“Coming right up.” You ring up the exact same order, letting your gaze wander to her hand again as she inserts her card. “I never got to tell you how much I love your rings.”

“What?” She lifts her hand after removing her card and chuckles breathlessly. “Oh yeah, thanks.”

A frown appears on your features when you notice the way she grabs the receipt from you, almost as if she’s actively avoiding brushing fingers with you in the same way she did during her last visit. You’re able to replace the frown with a customer service smile, but you can’t shake the feeling that you experienced rejection before even posing a question. 

“I’ll bring it out to you soon,” you tell her before moving to the glass case, grabbing the food items and frowning again when you find her staring at you from the other side. “Is there something else I can get you?”

“What time do you get off today?” she asks in a rushed fashion.

“What?”

“I mean do you have any plans when your shift is done? I meet people all day long and you’re the first person that I’ve wanted to have a conversation with that lasts longer than a few minutes,” she explains a bit slower. 

“I only have an hour left,” you tell her as you slide her food into the oven. “What did you have in mind?”

“Maybe you could show me what fun things I could get into in this area. I’m a bit further away, Lane County, but I’m starting to enjoy it here more.”

“Well there’s a fair happening on the other side of town, if you don’t mind a long bus ride. I’m guessing you don’t since you live in Lane and you somehow ended up here.”

“Oh, I have a car.” She holds up her car keys with a grin and you laugh.

“Well then…” You pause and look over the counter to see that she’s wearing pants today. “I hope you’re not afraid of rollercoasters.”

-

Aside from the occasional flirting when you have no customers, Wanda waits patiently at the same table as before, standing and joining you the moment you reappear on the other side of the counter without your apron. Her rings are tucked away again, and she dares to brush her knuckles against yours as the two of you leave the bookstore.

“Let me get that for you,” she insists, jogging ahead of you to open the car door and you laugh.

“Is this a date? Should I be nervous right now?” you ask in a joking tone, well aware that you’re genuinely wondering.

“Only if you want it to be.”

You take a deep breath while she crosses to the driver’s side, offering her a casual smile once she’s seated next to you. She denies your request to give her the address, insisting that she’ll be able to follow your directions better instead of admitting that she just wants to hear your voice as much as possible. So you lead her to the expansive fairgrounds on the other side of town, feeling excitement build in your heart the closer you get to your destination.

“This place must hold some memories for you,” Wanda acknowledges your wide grin as she parks.

“No, I just haven’t been in a while,” you admit as you both get out of the car. “Friends are too busy and I try to avoid nighttime bus rides as much as possible.”

“You know, I don’t mind giving you rides at night. I’m well aware that public transportation isn’t the safest form of travel.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that! You live too far.”

“Okay then.” Wanda meets you near the fair entrance and grabs your hand, sliding her fingers between yours. “I won’t give you the chance to ask.”

The two of you are latched onto each other, fingers intertwined the whole night aside from being secured on rides or bathroom trips. You’re walking into the games area, each holding a drink when you suddenly pull Wanda over to a booth. 

“Sorry, I just saw that huge giraffe and wanted to try to win it!” you explain as you release her hand to grab a ticket from your pocket. “Can you hold my drink?”

While your back is turned, Wanda sets both drinks on a nearby table and slips her rings onto her hands, returning just in time for you to finish the game. She hands your drink back to you carefully and reaches out to grab the small stuffed toy you’re offered, brushing her fingers against the attendant’s hand as she did so.

“She wants the giraffe,” she threatens, retreating with a pleased smile when he immediately pulls it down for you. “Thank you!”

“How did you do that?!” you question as she hands it to you. “I mean thank you so much, but wow. I’ve never seen anyone give in so easily.”

“I’ve spent most of my life figuring out how to get what I want, love,” she tells you in a low tone, and a shiver travels down your spine when her hand makes contact with your hip. “What do you think about getting out of here?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you agree quietly, starting to feel as if every other thought that enters your mind is incoherent. “Where do you want to go?”

“I’m taking you home.”

You assume she followed up on her word because you find yourself outside of your apartment building, and her hand closes around your wrist before you can leave the car.

“I had a lot of fun with you tonight.”

“Me too,” you admit, unable to prevent the smile that appears. “I guess this means you’re interested in more than friendship with me.”

“Is it that obvious?” She chuckles quietly as she raises her free hand to your jaw, watching you silently fall against her palm. “I’d bet you’d be a wonderful partner. My best girl.”

“I’d be so good for you,” you reply without hesitation, beginning to feel fuzzy and warm the longer she holds onto you.

“Yeah?” 

Your wrist drops onto the center console as the hand that isn’t resting on your jaw slips under the elastic waistband of your pants and underwear. You gasp when her fingertips begin teasing your entrance, bucking your hips slightly when you feel pressure on your clit.

“Wanda--”

“Shh, it’s okay, darling,” she assures you, slipping her thumb between your parted lips and grinning when they close around her without a fight. “I want to see how good you can be for me.”

She uses her middle finger to stroke slowly over your clit, eyes flickering over to your hips occasionally as they follow her movements. Her thumb slips further into your mouth, and your eyes flutter open when her ring touches your lips and a new sensation follows.

“You’re fine,” she soothes you when you let out a muffled whimper, sighing when she notices a group of people turn the corner at the end of the block and begin heading your way. “Let’s go inside. I don’t need an audience.”

Her fingers are removed from your underwear and in her mouth in seconds, and she practically growls as she cleans the bit of mess you left behind. You hurry out of the car and lead Wanda to your apartment, even in your haze able to remember to get her inside before Ruth sees you. In a few blinks, she’s hovering over you on the bed, and just when you think you can’t handle any more overwhelming sensations, she kisses you.

It’s breathtaking, quite literally you feel air leaving your lungs as if she’s stealing it herself. Your eyes feel like they’re glued shut and the grip she has on your waist is almost painful, but you can’t bring yourself to complain when she’s guiding you to grind on her thigh. Her lips are replaced with two of her fingers as she begins making her way down your body, carefully undressing you with her free hand and biting and kissing the skin she exposes.

“You’re unbearably wet,” she comments from between your legs, dipping her tongue inside you while stroking yours with her fingertips and humming loudly so you’ll arch into her more. “So fucking good.”

Her tongue is replaced with her fingers, and she begins slowly pumping in and out of you while sucking on your clit just to get a reaction. She grabs your hands as they go for her hair and hold them together by the wrists, readjusting so that her thumb can circle your clit when she pulls her head away.

“Being good means not touching unless I tell you to,” she scolds.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize breathlessly through moans as she picks up her pace while adding another finger.

“You’ll have plenty of time to learn. I’ve decided to make you mine.” She continues to finger you as she brings herself back over you, ignoring your gasp when you notice her darkened eyes and pinning your hands above your head. “I can’t wait to make it official.”

Her head dips down and you fall over the edge just as she sucks your earlobe into her mouth, thrusting into you forcefully as she continues you fuck you well past the end of your orgasm while her other hand pushes your pinned wrists into the mattress as hard as she can. You’re just about to cum again when she pulls away entirely, quickly unzipping her pants and freeing a toy she had tucked away.

“That’s really big,” you comment with wide eyes that immediately flutter closed when she pushes the head of the toy inside you. “Fuck.”

“Watch your mouth,” she warns you with a quick slap on your cheek, lowering her hand to hold onto your neck just below your jaw while thrusting into you more. “If it’s so big, why is my pussy swallowing it so easily?”

“Because I want it,” you whine, releasing a loud moan when she slams her hips against yours. “Please please please, I want it.”

“I know you do, love.”

Her other hand pins your wrist against the mattress again as she leans forward and begins fucking into you as hard as she can. She slips her thumb back into your mouth to reduce your screams to muffled whines, grinning to herself when you sink your teeth into her flesh a few times.

“Begging for something you can’t even handle,” she teases, prying your mouth open with her thumb as she lowers her head closer to yours. “Perhaps we should start over.”

She waits until you start to cum and slips her tongue into your waiting mouth, and everything goes dark.

[shurisneakers]

harmless (ix)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, sex jokes, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: a lot of requests came in last week, so cool and thank you for sending them in!! i’ll try my best to write them if they weren’t originally what i had planned for this series bc they’re so cute kfjdghdf. also hey shoutout to @i-reblog-fics-i-like​ for suggesting the backstory thing! 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Additional Scene   || Previous Part  || Series Masterlist

Hot single in your area! 😈  Find your solemate! 

Somehow it bypasses Bucky’s spam folder and is in his primary email. SHIELD tech is too advanced to let fake mails like this reach him and this doesn’t make sense. Unless it was one of the stupid dating websites he signed up for.

Leaving aside the obvious typo in the subject, he clicks on it, hoping it doesn’t unleash a virus onto his computer. 

He’s instead greeted with a poorly Photoshopped picture of you at a bar with a martini in your hand. He doesn’t have to look too hard to see that the martini is, in fact, an emoji. Off to a terrible start already. 

Right beside it is an even worse image, an imitation of an early Internet chat box.

Harbinger of Doom just sent you a message! 

Come to the empty lot near lair. Bring goggles. 😩💦

Decline/Accept

He wants to strangle you. 

______

“Why did you curse my eyes so early in the morning?” He spots you at the top of the lair, speaking loudly so that it hopefully reached you. 

“What?” you yell back down instead. “If you’re saying something, I can’t hear you.”

He rolls his eyes. He pulls his phone from his pocket and presses on your contact. 

He watches the look of confusion morph into one of slight surprise when you reach into your pocket and pull out your call.

“Don’t ever send an image like that to me again,” he says directly.

“If that one image is too much for you, how will we ever make our sex tape?”

His mouth opens and shuts like goddamn fish.

He can hear your laughter even without the phone.

“First of all- stop laughing- first of all, a sex tape is never going to happen. Second of all, I have a debriefing to go to, we need to make this quick.”

He holds up a finger when he sees you begin to say something. By the look of trouble painted all over your face, he knows it’s going to be a dumb innuendo. 

“Thirdly, why are you standing there?”

“I watched The Last Airbender,” you say once your cackling dies down.

“I like that show.” He did. Peter sometimes watched it when he came over and Bucky more often than not joined in.

“I know, you told me.”

Oh. 

“Okay, what now?” 

“Put your goggles on.” You take one step towards the ledge. 

“What are you doing?” The goggles don’t do anything to shield him from the sun, considering that they’re not tinted. Maybe he could invest in those.

You send him a smile, taking a step further. His walk towards the building turns into a jog, then a sprint when you’re basically standing on the edge.

You spread your arms out like Jesus Christ himself before flinging yourself off the building. His stomach drops.

His phone falls to the ground, discarded to the side as he sprints to break your landing. 

It never comes. 

Instead, a gust of wind smacks him in the face, forcing him a few steps backwards. 

“I am now an air bender.” your eyes shone. “Kind of.”

Just like that, the show was ruined.

He wipes the dust on from his glasses that he now understands why you made him wear. Considerate, for a person who nearly just gave him a heart attack. 

“Why.” It’s not even a question, just a statement. 

“You know how the Tower has a giant ‘A’ on the side?” 

He stares at you. 

“I‘m gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of it.”

Pepper would not like that. 

“That’s not even evil.”

“Yeah, but it’d annoy your super friends,” You do a flip midair, testing out the repulsors that were tied around your palms, “and I’m the voice of the people.”

You’re too high for him to reach. He doesn’t have his tools, or anything useful on him considering that he never had to use them before. He couldn’t even launch himself at you from the side of the building because you’d just move out of the way. He could jump really high but it would just have the same consequence.

He could talk and keep you distracted but that worked once, it wouldn’t again. At least not for long. 

Fuck, he really had only one option. 

He leaves you to do your somersaults and turns, walking over to where he dropped his phone. It’s an upgrade from the brick he was using a while ago, but not a high end Stark model. A smartphone, but barely.

He sighs, punching in the number and holding it up to his ear.

“Who are you calling?” you yell from above him. 

“Go back to your shitty aerobics,” he yells back.

You pause for a second. “Was that a fucking pun, James Bar-”

The dial tone ends when someone picks up. He diverts his attention back to the call.

“Hey man, I-

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

“It’s probably something stupid,” Sam doesn’t even sound annoyed, just uninterested.

“I need your wings.”

“I was right. Bye.”

It was a long shot anyway.

“Fuckin’ hold on a second.” He sees you disintegrate a concrete block by having it drop from the air. “You come here and fix this, then. She’s air bending now.”

“...like Avatar?” Sam unsurprisingly got the reference. 

Peter’s interests were usually shared by everyone in the Tower, just because they had to compensate for the teasing he had to endure. It led to a lot of geeky documentaries and occasional musicals. Bucky wouldn’t be caught dead humming songs from Thoroughly Modern Millie under his breath. 

“Yeah.”

“You want me to come and fight your girlfriend,” he says slowly. 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Bucky urges, “and yes, I need help. Can’t exactly reach her when she’s twenty feet above me.”

“We have a briefing in 30 minutes. Why did you even go there today?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that. Just looks up at you smacking one of the repulsors against your thigh when it sputters for a second. It’s tradition. 

“Well?” Bucky ignores his question.

“Fine,” Sam’s voice is distant for a second as he agrees. “Clint’s asking if he can come too.”

“Fuck no.” One of them was more than enough and Sam was way better at negotiation. 

He hears a faint profanity from who he assumed was Clint before the call cuts.

He takes a seat on the ground and waits.

“You’re not going to make any effort to stop me?” You have your arms pressed to your side, palms pointed downwards to keep you afloat.

 “I could just throw things at you again.” He makes a mention towards the small pebbles.

“I will fuck you up if you even try,” you warn. He lifts his arms in surrender. “So that’s it. You’re just going to sit there.”

“To be honest, I couldn’t care less if you painted the building,” he says with the least amount of interest he could muster, not that that was very hard.

“Do you not like your team?” 

“I do.” He isn’t lying. “But they’re little shits.”

“I can draw a couple of dicks on their window, no problem,” you say offhandedly.

He looks up at you through his fingers. “That won’t be required.”

Although it was appreciated. 

“Cool, so then I’m gonna go.” You make a mention of the utility belt on your waist. He looks at the many spray cans that decorate it. 

“What colour are you going with?” he interrupts quickly. Fuckin’ Sam. What was the point of wings if he couldn’t get here in 2 minutes?

“Red, probably.” You look down. “I got purple and white just in case.”

“Building’s dark, red is good.”

“You really don’t care, do you?” You lower yourself down to the ground, a few feet ahead of him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” For fucks’ sake, Sam. “You really don’t like superheroes, do you?”

“I don’t have anything against them.”

“Then why do you do this every week?”

This was wading into personal territory and he did not like it. 

“Well.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Because I want to. It’s fun.”

“No other reason?”

“Do I need to have another reason?” You push your palm downwards, sending you back up into the air. “Can’t I just be evil because I want to?”

“Sure,” he says. He’s heard worse reasons. “Why not?”

“Besides, if you think I don’t like superheroes then you should meet Jake.”

“Who’s Jake?” He hadn’t ever heard you mention him before because he’d remember if you had.

“My roommate.” 

“I didn’t see him when I came over.”

“That’s because we’re not conjoined at the hip.” It takes you a second to stabilise. “Besides, he grabbed the water while I got the bracelet but he refused to come say hi.”

Bucky looked down at his wrist. It was still there. He found himself fidgeting with it more often than not.

“He hates superheroes?”

“He has a valid reason.” Your eyes widen in worry when your head suddenly dips. 

“What is it?” He knows the height at which you’re at isn’t very dangerous but if need be, he’s close by. 

“Come find out.” Your eyes shone mischievously. “But yeah, no reason for me to be evil.”

“Not even a tragic backstory?” 

“None. But if you want it, I can give you one, Barnes.” You test the waters, seeing how long you can lie horizontally. “Can’t promise you’ll like it though.”

“Try me.” He has time to kill. He’s a good listener.

“Well, it all started with my family- a troop of gorillas.” You flip over to lie on your back. “They practically raised me, they did. Until my gorilla mother died and I was all but consumed by grief and-”

“Your mother was a gorilla?” He entertains the notion. 

“Or was it my father?” you ask thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I don’t remember. Anyway, I met a-”

“Just to clarify, none of this is real, right?” he interjects. 

You stare at him. He stares at you.

“Bucky, that’s the plot of Tarzan,” you say slowly, “or at least whatever I remember of it... which I’m beginning to realise isn’t much.”

“Just clarifying.” He leans back again.

“Anyway so then when my mother, the deer-”

“Gorilla.”

“Whatever. Was killed, I escaped to some place-”

“Where?”

“Somewhere. And I stayed with these seven men-”

“Why seven?” He actually remembers watching this movie with his sister when it came out. An early memory, a bit faded. He remembers how long he saved up for the ticket.

“Because character development. And then I realised the reason my life was so weird was because there was a rat controlling me by pulling on my hair-”

“What the fuc-”

“If you ask any more questions, I’m going to stop.”

Bucky blinks at you. “So that’s your backstory.” 

“Raw and uncut, baby.”

“Just to get this straight, your mother, the gorilla deer-”

“Witch.”

“Huh?”

“She was a witch who stole my hair.”

“Wha-”

He’s interrupted by the giant shadow cast by something that flies overhead. 

Fucking finally. 

He doesn’t even have to look up. Sam does a small glide to the ground, landing gracefully beside him.

Bucky finds you speechless but straightened up from your earlier posture.

“Buck,” Sam greets him.

“Sam,” he says in return, getting up from his place. 

A grin spreads across your face. “Mr. Sam Wilson. No way.”

“You’re Y/N, I’m assuming?” Sam offers, posture relaxed. He clearly wasn’t here to fight. 

“The one and only.” You tear your eyes away from Sam to glare at Bucky. “Barnes, if you had told me we were expecting guests, I would have dressed better.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows in suspicion at you. You’d dress up for Sam. 

You dressed up like a suburban tourist dad for him. He was feeling the offence incoming. 

“Can’t count on him to be useful in any situation.” Alright, he did not call Sam just to have the both of you team up against him. 

“Normally I’d agree with you but he did just invite you here, so...” you trail off, looking at Sam expectantly. 

What the shit.

Sam smirks. Bucky switches rapidly back and forth between the both of you.

“I see why Buck keeps coming back every week.” It doesn’t take long for him to catch on, enlisting a feeling of triumph from you. 

“I can’t see why he doesn’t just stay at home everyday if this is the view.” You gesture to him.

This is not what Bucky wanted.

“Okay,” Bucky interrupts, “what is going on here?”

“Pure chemistry, I’d say.” You’re half tempted to bite your lip to seal the deal.

“I agree.” Sam just nods, completely and utterly serious. 

You think that you’ll give him a gift basket just for playing along despite meeting you for the first time at that moment. 

“Get a room.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Maybe we will.” You tap your finger against your lip in thought. “How do you feel about Indian food, Sam?”

“Very positively.” 

Bucky grits his teeth. “If you’re not planning to spray paint the Tower, can you just hand over the repulsers so we can go home for the day?”

You let out a small tsk in disapproval. “See what I have to deal with?”

“Can’t imagine how you do it every weekend,” Sam says dryly, not wasting a second in replying. 

“Hello?” Bucky waves his arm around. “She’s the villain here.”

“Your face is the villain here.” You tear your eyes away from Sam only to glare at him. “He won’t even wear a cape. Why am I the only one who brings their A-Game every week?”

“Sam just get the damn-”

“You should wear a cape, man.” Bucky’s absolutely sure that even Sam knows it’s a ridiculous idea.

“I’m not wearing a fuckin’ cape,” he grumbles. 

“What are your thoughts on swords, then?” Your finger finds a place under your chin in deep contemplation. “You’d look great with a sword.”

Bucky buries his face in his palms. “Sam, for the love of God.” 

“Okay, alright.” Sam finally gives in with a small chuckle. He runs a few steps to get a small head start before launching himself into the air, whizzing past your levitating figure. He does a neat little flip midair before matching your height.

Showoff.

“How difficult are you gonna make this, Wilson?” you ask, a smirk on your face.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky exhales, looking at the both of you through his goggles. 

“What’s your play here?” Sam calls out loudly.

“Was gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of the Tower.”

“After the ‘A’?”

“After the ‘A’,” you confirm. 

“Now that’s too small,” Sam tutted. “You gotta think bigger. Paint the whole Tower.” 

“Sam!” Bucky looks horrified. 

“Hmm.” You look like you’re considering it. “Don’t have enough paint for that though.”

“You’re an evil genius, right?” Sam casts a small glance at Bucky. “At least that’s what he tells me.”

“You talk about me?” You grin at the disgruntled man on the ground. 

“I don’t,” he mutters, shaking his head. A lie.

“Yeah, so build something,” Sam points out. “Get some more paint. I’ll even tell you the best vantage points to spill it.”

“No, he won’t,” Bucky shouts from below. 

“He’s just cranky because he didn’t get his prune juice this morning, ignore him,” Sam dismisses him.

Prune juice? He was a young 100, not ancient. 

“What’s your favourite colour, Falcon?”

“I like red.”

As annoyed as Bucky is right now, he stores that away in his memory for later. He also knows Sam loves seafood and a good pair of shoes. 

“A couple of gallons of red paint it is, then.” You lower yourself to the ground, Sam slowly follows suit until he lands beside Bucky.

“You know we can’t let you go without taking those, right?” Bucky tilts his head towards your invention.

You narrow your eyes at him. He doesn’t budge.

“I’ll tell ya what,” Sam pipes in instead. “I’ll keep them until you finish getting the paint and once you’re done, we’ll make an evening out of vandalising the Tower.” 

Bucky may not enjoy his company all that much but he admires Sam’s diplomacy. Of course, you would never make it this easy while reasoning with him.

“That a promise, Mr. Wilson?” You raise your eyebrow at him questioningly but are already in the process of removing the things from your hand. 

“Wouldn’t ever lie to you, doll.” He holds up his hand in a mock swear.

You walk towards Bucky and him, rotating your wrists to get rid of the soreness. “Bold claim for a man who met me ten minutes ago.”

“Feels like it’s been longer.” He sends you a wink and you can’t stop the laugh the escapes from you finally. 

Bucky holds his hand out for the gadgets. You shrink away from him with a click of your tongue.

“Technically, he takes this round.” You send a nod towards Sam, dropping off the repulsors into his hand. “So he gets it.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“You gonna keep ‘em safe?” you ask Sam, this time a little more earnestly. 

“Guard it with my life,” he says seriously, pressing his lips together in a line to avoid smiling. 

“You’re both ridiculous,” Bucky cuts in.

“You’re going to be late.” Sam tucks the devices into his pocket safely. “You know how Steve gets when people walk in on his speeches. Do you even have a ride?”

“Got the motorcycle.” 

“See you there.” Sam nods. 

“Save me a place,” Bucky says to him.

“No.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “Y/N. It was a pleasure.”

“Still holding you to that evening, Sam.” You send him a smile.

“I’m countin’ on it.” He gives you a small three finger salute before taking off, leaving you staring after his retracting figure. 

When the dust settles, Bucky awkwardly clears his throat. “Right. So that was that.”

“Dude,” you let out an exhale. “he’s so hot.”

He murmurs something unintelligible. It vaguely sounds like a series of threats but mostly a list of complaints.

“Don’t you have a meeting to get to?” You turn your attention back to him.

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you going to be late?” You glance at the clock on your phone.

“I’ll just tell them I was on a mission.” Well, sort of. “Besides, what are they gonna do? Kick me out?”

“Fair enough.” You shrug. “Have a safe ride back.”

From what he knows of you and Sam, the both of you were kidding around. But he could never be too sure. He can’t even ask if you were serious about the entire thing because it’s none of his business. 

Were the implications of having his mortal nemesis and other mortal nemesis date important enough to overrule that? 

“Are you planning to skip your meeting, or?” you ask when he remains freezes in his spot, eyes glazed over like he’s thinking about something. “Because if you are, I know this great Thai place-”

“Don’t do that again,” he says instead, shaking his head to jolt him out of his thoughts. 

“What?”

“Flinging yourself off roofs like that.”

“Why?” Because it scared the hell out of him, for one.

“Just don’t.”

“Oh please, like you’ve never done dangerous shit like that before.” You narrow your eyes at him, reading his face. “Are you telling me you care about me?”

“No.” His nose twitches. “Just don’t throw yourself off buildings when I’m around.”

“What about when you’re not?”

“As long as I’m not there to witness it.” He shrugs, spinning on his heel to leave. Technically he preferred if you didn’t do things like that at all. 

“Fine. I’ll just have my clone try out all the dangerous stuff for me.”

 He stops in his tracks. “You have a clone?”

“Well,” You squint, “no. But I’m working on it.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Bye Y/N.”

“You know, it sounds an awful lot like you’re saying we’re friends.” Your whole demeanour changes and he already knows what’s coming.

“I never said that,” he argues vehemently. “All I said was that I can’t have your murder on my hands.”

“Thus implying that we’re friends. In a fucked up, enemies kind of way.” You positively beam at him. “Aw, Barnes, that’s adorable.”

Adorable? Adorable?

“I hate you.”

“I love you, too, bestie,” you gush, dumb grin on your face. “I’ll make us friendship rings next time. What are your thoughts on matching tattoos?”

He wants to cry. 

______

By the time Sam walks into the meeting room, the session’s already begun. He shoots an apologetic look to a monologuing Steve before taking his place at the nearest chair available. 

Something sharp pokes his thigh. His wings are off and in the backpack beside him, but then he remembers your little inventions that were still in his pocket.

He tries not to make much of a noise while he pulls them out, giving them a look over to make sure they’re not broken.

“Watcha got there, Big Bird?” Tony asks lowly from beside him.

“Something that Barnes’ enemy made.” Sam holds it up slightly. 

“The one he’s been rendezvousing around town with every weekend?” 

“That’s her.” He’s about to put it in his backpack when Tony stops him.

“Pass that here for a second.” He recognises it immediately for what it is, interest piqued. 

Sam hands one of them over while he puts the other back in the bag. It’s a metallic circle, not bigger than Tony’s palm, with a thick leather strap to tie it around your palm.

“She made this?” 

“Why don’t you ask him?” Sam mentions towards Bucky who silently slips into the conference room, standing in the corner near the potted plant since there were no more chairs left.

“The balance has gotta be off on this thing,” he mutters to himself, wholly ignoring the brooding man standing in the corner like a Christmas tree.

“She seemed to be manoeuvring it fine,” Sam catches the eye of a lower ranking agent who makes the mistake of glaring at him for talking while the meeting was going on. A few seconds later the agent hastily looks away and doesn’t turn around for the rest of the hour. 

“Could be better.” He uses a much more intricate model for his suits, although this isn’t even half-bad for a homemade version. “Do you know how long she took to make this?”

“Buck says she comes up with a new one every week, so I’m guessing that long.” 

It had a few glitches but it was incredibly refined for a week’s worth of work.

“Interesting.” He gives it a quick overlook before handing it back to Sam who drops it into the bag.

He casts a swift glance at Bucky, noting how he wasn’t even paying attention to the meeting but rather to whatever he had tied around his metal wrist, fidgeting with it with his thumb. 

Tony has an idea. 

And that was generally bad news.

Next part

[buckysgoldenheart]

Just Us

Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: Henry is sick and tired of you bringing dates back to your shared apartment, and he has no problem letting you know. So basically, mega jealous Henry, which I am a pathetic sucker for.

Warnings: mentions of sex, lots of cursing. I think that’s it.

Notes: this is kind of similar to another fic I did, and I try not to do that, but I just really felt the need to write this, so I did.

Words: 2732

Henry’s mood turned sour the second you walked through the door with your date in tow. You came in with a bright smile on your face that he returned with a scowl, but you did your best to brush it off. Your roommate acting like an overgrown child every time you brought home a guest was nothing new; you certainly weren’t surprised, and you had no intention of stooping to his level.

“Don’t mind us,” You called to Henry from over your shoulder as you shed your coat and draped it on the hook. “This is James.”

Henry only grunted in response, not looking up from fixing his dinner; peanut butter about to be spread messily on a slice of wheat bread. You rolled your eyes, took James’s coat and led him over to the couch where he smiled sweetly when you invited him to sit and offered him a drink.

Entering the kitchen, you opened the fridge door and pulled out two beers. “So?” You asked, your eyebrow raised as you searched for the bottle opener in the junk drawer. Henry dropped the knife with a clang on the countertop, then turned to you and crossed his arms.

“So, you just thought this was fine,” He asked, his voice dripping with aggravated sarcasm as he shrugged his broad shoulders and frowned. “Just whatever, no big deal?”

You chuckled at the weak argument you’d had at least three times before. You wouldn’t have given him the chance to say anything about your date at all if you knew he wasn’t going to hang on to it the entire night just to explode in the morning for bringing a stranger into his home. Your home too, you would often have to remind him. So, it was your mission to let him get the anger out early in the night. You’d be less likely to have to worry about it later and could focus your attention on the man sitting in your living room rather than Henry’s imminent frustration.

“Henry,” You sighed and took a sip of your beer. “As of right now, it’s just the continuation of an innocent date. We’re going to watch a movie.”

“As of right now?” Henry huffed deeply. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means that if it gets a little heated, I promise not to make out with him in front of you, but at this current time, you have little to worry about.”

He sucked in a long breath through his nostrils. “Ok, that’s—”

“And we won’t fuck on our couch. I’ll take him to my room so you don’t have to see anything scarring,” You teased with a wink.

“Ok, enough.”

“And we won’t be loud, I swear.”

“Enough!” He snapped. You quickly whipped your head around the corner to see if James heard, but he was still sitting there, playing with his fingernails as he patiently waited for you like the gentleman he was. When you looked back at Henry, he was practically quaking with anger. “Get that asshole out of my apartment.”

“Um, our apartment. And no thank you.” You smiled and cocked your head to the side as innocently as you could. “I’d like to be having sex tonight.”

“With him?” Henry pointed a long finger in your date’s general direction. The fury in his eyes could’ve stabbed James through the back of his head if the wall weren’t in the way.

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously.”

“For fucks sake, Y/N. Have some self-respect.”

Your playful smile instantly dropped, and if you weren’t leaning against the wall, you would’ve stumbled. Henry had said a lot of things before; Hurtful things, things that made you want to slap him, but something about this felt worse. Assuming you were devaluing yourself by wanting to have sex with a man who was sweet, and kind and generous, and million other lovely things men, other than Henry, have never been to you, was like a stab to the gut. Henry was your best friend; you were his. You supported his choices and dreams, and it seemed Henry did the same for you unless it came to this very particular subject. He hated every man you brought around, but bringing them around or getting involved with them did not make you a stupid girl who cannot take care of herself.

“Jesus Henry, stay in your lane, would you?” You said, shaking your head and rubbing at your temple with your free fingers. “I don’t need my best friend giving me shit. Why can’t I bring a guy here without you acting like a complete dick to him and me?”

He stepped closer until you had to look up to meet his glare. “You’re a very smart girl, Y/N. Figure it out,” he growled, then moved around you, but you grabbed his arm before he could escape yet again. Every time, he tried to escape. Every time, he stomped away from you like a grump as if you had some reason to be sorry or ashamed, and you weren’t having it any longer.

“We aren’t children, Henry. I’m not playing this game. If you’ve got a problem with me, say it to my fucking face.”

He stared at you for a long beat, but then shook your hand off him and made his way down the hall, slamming the door to his room once he was inside.

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

James was better than most at kissing you, and you’d kissed your fair share. He knew what you wanted--how you liked things--without you needing to ask, and it was like its own little miracle. There was no fumbling around. His lips were firm and his arms around you were strong. He was confident in his touch on your skin as you straddled his lap, and all of it combined had you a moaning, whimpering mess.

“I wasn’t sure we would actually get to do this,” He said between kisses as you both tried to catch your breath.

“Why?” You lightly chuckled, your fingers skimming down to the little buttons holding his shirt together and easing one open. “I’m certainly having a good time.”

“Believe me sweetheart, I am too, but Superman there looked like he wanted to kick my ass.”

Fucking Superman. That asshole had come out of his room at random, inconvenient times as you and James lightly pawed at one another throughout the movie, and you both could feel Henry’s eyes on you. After the look he gave you the first time he came into the living room, you stopped turning your heads his way when his heavy footsteps thudded against the hardwood.

You made a low humming sound that had James’s cock twitching in his pants, and you moved your head down to peck your lips against his. “Don’t bother with him,” You whispered.

He leaned into the light scratching your nails were giving the side of his scalp, and with a groan, said, “If you say so, babydoll, I won’t give it a second thought.”

“Good.” You smiled, satisfied, then kissed him again but he pulled back barely a minute later.

“It’s just…the way he looks at you.”

“He’s a protective friend.” You snickered and ground your hips down on his a little harder to get him back on track.

He groaned as his fingers dug into your waist, but it didn’t distract him. “No, it’s not only that. It’s like…” His lips pursed trying to find the words. “He looks at you in a way that friends normally do not look at one another.”

“He’s got some weird attitude tonight, ok? It’s nothing.” Grabbing his cheeks, you forced him to look directly at you when you said, “Now keep kissing me before I get too impatient.”

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

At two in the morning, you figured you were safe. You figured there would be a direct and easy path to the front door of your apartment as you let James out with a smile and a goodbye kiss and promises to text one another the next day, though you weren’t sure how much either of you really meant it. And you were right, there was an uninterrupted tiptoeing to the door. It was when you turned back for your bedroom that you realized the path had a roadblock.

Henry stood in front of you, the fumes nearly visibly wafting off him, with the harshest look he had ever directed at you taking over his entire face. It was a disservice to his handsome features and made your stomach twist uneasily.

“Is this for fucking real right now?” He growled so intensely it vibrated in your ears. “Did I just see what I think I saw?”

“Jesus, Henry, you scared me.”

“You actually slept with that guy?”

“Wh—”

“Un-fucking-believable.” Laughing half-heartedly, he ran one of his hands down his face, but that was all it took for the shock to wear off and for your annoyance to set in.

“Ok, I’m done with this. What is your goddamn problem?”

The two of you didn’t fight this way. Not for long anyway, and even so, this time was significantly worse than any other. Outbursts happened for the both of you, snapping, and words you wish you could take back, but Henry was still looking at you the way he had earlier in the night; like you were a reckless child he was losing respect for by the minute, and it broke your heart.

He stared at you as if expecting you to have an answer to your own question, but when you didn’t continue, he shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck, and said, “I’m going to a hotel. I can’t be here right now.”

“What? Henry, why?”

His keys were in hand, his phone and wallet tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants, when it finally registered to you that he wasn’t kidding. He was leaving so fast he didn’t care to take anything other than the necessities with him. That’s how much he wanted to get away from you, and you hated it. You never wanted to get away from him.

Light from the hall streamed through the doorway as you finally began to follow after him. You grabbed at his t-shirt when he wouldn’t respond to your repeating calling of his name, and he whipped around fast with a frown down at you. Your mouth kept opening and closing, unsure of what to say.

He sniffed once, thinned his lips, and removed your hand from his body, then as calmly as he had spoken all night, said, “I’m in fucking love with you.”

Then door was slammed behind him, jarring you and leaving you to soak the night in.

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

When he said those words to you, the six words that he would never be able to take back, the ones that irrevocably changed your friendship in the blink of an eye, everything inside of you began to tremble and vibrate and beat with such intensity you could almost feel the functions of your body. Your blood was pumping a hell of a lot faster and you heart was ready to burst.

Your brain, your skin, the nerves and veins under that skin; every bit of you was working overtime to help process what happened and keep you alert as you did so, and maybe it was all a little overkill, but he had said the one thing you never thought you’d hear.

I’m in fucking love with you.

It would repeat over and over in your head, bouncing around the walls of your skull as it tried to find a way to escape, but there was no use. You could never forget his confession, or the way he said it. There was something desperate about it, weak. There was exhaustion, as if he were tired of holding it back and had given up on even trying.

It was too much. You’d never dismiss it, and God, when he got his ass back home you wouldn’t let him brush it aside, but for now, it was too much.

You wanted sleep after sitting completely still for two hours, staring into space. So you carried your body to the closest room, his room, crawled into his bed, and tangled yourself within the sheets until you wouldn’t be able to unwrap yourself without effort you did not possess at such an ungodly hour. You were stuck, trapped, engulfed by him, just like you wanted to be. Then you took his king-sized pillow, massive like his body, and hugged it to your chest, tucking your face in it. It smelled like him, all musky and piney and perfect in a way that always made you dizzy when he would sit a little too close and drape a long arm around your shoulders as you watched tv or read a book.

And you cried yourself to sleep, wishing he was beside you.

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

Henry came back in the morning, though he wasn’t sure how he gathered the courage. Maybe it was the fact that it was you. Just you, his best friend, his roommate. He loved you in more ways than one, and perhaps it was that knowledge that made him a little stronger.

He’d face you, and he’d do it with the intention of making everything clear. He was in love with you and it wasn’t going to change. He loved you as his friend; that wasn’t going to change either, and no way in hell was he going to lose you twice over.

Taking a few deep breaths, Henry unlocked the front door and eased his way inside. You weren’t around the sunlit soaked first floor of the apartment, and when he traipsed upstairs and nudged your door open, you weren’t there either. He wanted you tucked in your bed, not gone and probably terrified at the thought of seeing him, so running to James’s or Jake’s or Jason’s apartment to avoid him. That would be the perfect painful exclamation point on the disaster of his poor decision making.

Then he found you. Not missing, but snug in his bed, warming the mattress with your body as it dipped the slightest under your weight. Everything about the sight killed him and melted his heart simultaneously. There you were, laying peacefully angelic, right where he had wanted you for months. And it looked so beautifully natural.

Not even stopping to think, Henry inched his way to the other side of his bed, lifted the duvet and slid beneath it. He reached an arm around your waist and pulled you close to kiss your forehead, then tucked his face into the crook of your neck. When you stirred, he leaned back to take in your face as your eyebrows scrunched and your lips parted in a yawn.

You didn’t open your eyes but rose a hand, placed it on his cheek, and ran a thumb along the corner of his mouth. As the goosebumps spawned all over his body, he wasn’t even sure you were fully awake, but then you whispered, “It was always you, Henry. Always.”

Henry swallowed hard as your sleepy voice continued.

“I figured you weren’t an option, and I was doing my best working around that.”

After running a hand over your hair and tucking some behind your ear, Henry pressed a kiss to your lips. A short, soft one to see how you’d react. Then you opened your eyes slowly and met your Y/E/C with his blue.

“Do it again,” You said, and so he connected your lips a little firmer, tightening his hold on you, and rolling on his back until your body splayed over his.

You moaned when he caressed his tongue against yours after opening your mouth an inch. Your heart fluttered in your chest the stupid way dramatic, moony-eyed women often described it in novels. You thought it was a myth, the idea that anyone could make you feel so loved just from a kiss, and you’d lost hope for that kind of thing long ago. But Henry ripped your pessimism to shreds in a matter of minutes.

“I want you to be mine,” he mumbled against your lips. “Just mine.”

“Then I’m yours,” You said without hesitation, tilting your head back enough to look in his eyes. You nudged your nose against his. “Just yours.”

---

Tags: @dugan365 @moonlightimagination @pietrotheavenger @marvel-fanfiction @hawkeyeharrington @dani-si @wintersoldier98 @then-there-was-me-emily @prxttybirdz​ @jazzwoman897​ @meganwinchester1999​ @ufffg​ @debra77​ @rebelliouscat​ @anise-d-castle6​ @projectxhappiness​ @lowkeysebby​ @stringgeek13​ @notmyfault404​ @jjamesbbarness​ @guera31​ @sophiatomlinson23​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @hiddles-rose​ @picapicapicassobaby​ @lokilvrr​ @sunshine-seven @harrysthiccthighss​ @agniavateira​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​ @tumblnewby @summersong69​ @starlite13​ @mstgsmy​ @purplelove75​ @defffcc​ @the-soot-sprite​ @kissthatlifeaway @atomicpaperhairdouniversity​ @aquariuslavenderhoney​ @the-problem-of-leisure​ @amberlokabrenna​

[the-girl-who-cried-wolf]

Fingertips on me

5SOS Calum Hood fan fic

This was mainly inspired by the pretty nail polish Calum was wearing lately, so I ended up writing a random fic about it <3 not much else to say really, enjoy reading!!

Background: painting Cal's nails for him can be fun, but he's always a little impatient

Warnings: mild swearing, fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

“Y/n?”

Calum’s voice echoed through the apartment, reaching all the way to where you sat on your shared bed, busily typing away on your laptop. You looked up as he came into the room, a box in his hand and a frown on his face.

“Hey, y/n, can you help me out here?”

“Sure, love, what is it?” You shut your laptop and pushed it onto the bed beside you as he came over, fingers dancing through the bottles of nail polish that were neatly arranged in the box.

“I need to pick a colour, and I don’t know what will suit best…” he hummed as he sat beside you, picking out a bottle of bright pink to see the colour, then dropping it back and checking another one.

“You’re painting your nails?”

“Yeah,” he looked up at you, a shy smile dancing over his face. “Me and the boys wanted to do a photoshoot tomorrow and we all decided that we’d do our nails, and maybe a little makeup or something for it.”

You grinned back at him. “That sounds awesome, Cal.” You leaned into his side, resting your head on his shoulder and watching his fingers sort through the bottles, making soft clinking noises with every movement.

“You know I love when your nails are painted,” you murmured, pressing a light kiss onto his arm. He stopped sorting through the bottles for a second, picking up on what you were doing before you had even started.

“Yeah?” He turned his head to look at you, his hand abandoning the polishes in favour of dragging a finger across your jaw, turning your gaze to him. He was sitting so close already, he just had to look down at your lips and you were done. How did he do this so effortlessly? His voice was low as he continued, “Well how about you help me paint them first, then you can look at them all you want.”

“Just look?” you said with a sly grin.

He smirked at that. “We’ll see. But we have to paint ‘em first, okay?” You just sighed as he turned back to the box, lifting out a bright orange one with a frown. “The fuck is this?” He spun the bottle around to read the label. “Sunburst Grapefruit. You couldn’t just call it orange could you? Pretentious bastards.” You chuckled at that, earning a smile from him.

“Do you know what colour you wanted? Did you guys have a theme in mind or something?”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Ash said he’d do red, and Luke’s are already silver I think. And Michael wasn’t sure yet but I’m assuming he’d do black or something, you know him.” Calum raised his eyebrow a little as he picked out a dark purple-ish colour, holding it between his thumb and finger like it was an object of disgust.

“I’ve literally never seen you wear half of these colours, y/n, why do we have so many?”

“Well you never know when you might need some-” you checked the label of the one he was holding- “Aubergine Maroon.” You laughed at his evident confusion.

“It doesn’t even look like an aubergine, damn it,” he said as he put the bottle back with a little laugh of disbelief. “These names are so fucked up.”

You just laughed at his mocking. “Ok, ok, give it here. If you’re just going to insult all the ridiculous name choices then we’ll be here forever.” You took the box and placed it in your lap, fingers running through the colours until you found a dark blue one, almost navy coloured, and pulled it out for him to inspect. He put his arm out behind you so he could lean back a little, his other hand reaching across to hold the polish for a second. He shook his head.

“Too dark. They said it would be a low light shoot,” he said.

You nodded and placed the bottle back in its place. “How about this one?” The cornflower yellow was certainly lighter. He screwed up his nose though.

“Maybe the cooler colours would be better,” he leaned forward to watch your fingers dance over the blues and purples, his head resting on your shoulder.

“Not green?”

“Nah.”

“Oh, how about this one?” You pulled out a baby blue colour, a lighter shade of sky blue. He hummed in thought for a second.

“Actually…yeah, that might work.” He reached out his hand to hold it.

“See,” you nodded at the pale bottle in his tanned hand. “It contrasts your skin nicely.” You smiled sweetly at him, making him laugh.

“Ok Miss Sunshine, now you can help me paint them,” he said with a smile as he took the box from your hand and stood. “Cause lord knows I’d fuck it up in two seconds flat if I did it by myself.” He walked out the door without checking to see if you were following.

“Come on, y/n, let’s go.”

---

“Shit, that’s cold!”

“What did you expect, tough guy? Quit whining will you,” you told Calum with a smile as you began painting his nails with the baby blue colour polish. You were sitting at the kitchen table now, his hands spread out in front of you as you applied the polish as neatly as you could, a frown creasing your brow as you concentrated.

“It tickles.”

“Shh.”

A moment of silence passed. A few more nails finished. Then his free hand started tapping on the table a little, the sound of his rings echoing on the wood as he started a beat. You looked up at him, eyebrows raised. He just smirked.

“Sorry.”

“Do you want me to paint your nails or not?”

It was hard to fight off the grin when he was staring at you so sweetly, mock innocence all over his face. “Yes, please.” He wiggled his fingers to bring your attention back to them. You huffed out what might have been a laugh as you went back to painting, quickly finishing off that hand and holding out your hand for the next one. He switched them over, placing the other hand in front of you as he blew on the freshly painted nails.

“You look like such a diva,” you giggled.

“That’s cause I am one.” He grinned, giving you an imaginary hair flick before blowing more on his nails. You laughed at him. What a dork.

You quickly finished up his second hand and screwed the lid back onto the bottle of nail polish. “There you go, Cal. Now just don’t touch anything for ten minutes and I’ll do the second coat for you then, okay?” You stood from the table, stopping in front of him when you noticed his pout.

You just raised your eyebrows at him. “Yes, diva?”

“But what am I meant to do for ten minutes?” his whiny voice was saying something completely different to his wide eyes as they watched you lean down in front of him, matching his sitting height.

“I’m sure you can find some way to amuse yourself,” you said quietly, eyes dropping to his lips, then dragging up his face back to meet his dark eyes. “Unless you can’t even do that by yourself.” You reached out and flicked his nose with a cheeky smile, tutting when he went to grab your wrist. “Uh uh, no touching, remember?”

“Not fair,” he mumbled, another pout turning his lips downwards.

“God, you’re pathetic,” you muttered as you straightened up. “Come on then. The sofa’s more comfortable.”

---

You flicked the TV on to play quietly as Calum went and sat on the sofa, careful not to brush the wet nail polish on anything as he went. He sat and looked up at you with a little grin, hands spread out on his thighs so he wouldn't bump them into anything. You just smiled and shook your head at him. He really was like a little kid sometimes.

You sat down next to him, remote in hand, surfing through the channels until you landed on a sports one. You knew he liked watching soccer matches, so you let that play.

Finally quiet and content, Cal just watched you as you tucked up your legs and leant into his side. He carefully lifted his arm and settled his hand on the back of the sofa, leaving room for you to properly snuggle into his chest, which you did. He was deliciously warm and cuddly in his big hoodie.

“You happy now, diva?”

He pressed a kiss to your head. “Mm hmm. Be happier if I could touch you though,” he whispered into your hair. You could hear his cheeky smile.

“Well just wait a few minutes,” you checked the clock on the wall, “then you can touch me all you want, princess.”

You casually lay a hand on his thigh as you pretended to watch the TV, slowly picking at the loose threads of his distressed jeans, and smoothing out wrinkles in the denim. Completely unnecessary touches, you both knew that.

“Y/n.”

“Mm?”

“Don’t.”

You smirked as you turned your head and leant back to look at him properly. “Don’t what?” you asked innocently, a hand still resting on his leg.

“Don’t be such a tease,” he almost growled, even as he fought off a little smile. “You could let me kiss you at least.”

“Okay, princess,” you said quietly, a smile quirking up the corner of your mouth.

That was all he needed to hear before he leant towards you, connecting his lips to yours ferociously. You could feel the strain in his arms as he willed himself not to touch you, to only taste with his lips. You indulged him for a long while, letting him bite at your lips and swipe his tongue along yours before you gently pushed him back with a hand on his chest.

“What’re you doing?”

You just looked at the clock, then back into his dark eyes. “It’s been ten minutes. They should be dry now.”

The smirk he gave you was pure evil as his hands were finally free of their invisible restraints, one coming to rest on your jaw and draw you in for another hungry kiss, then both hands slipping down to your waist as he quickly pulled you onto his lap. You gasped a little in surprise at the sudden movement, and you felt him smile into the kiss.

Your legs straddled him as his wandering hands came to rest on your thighs for a moment, before drifted back to your waist, then up and over your back. He couldn’t stop touching you now as his mouth explored your, drinking you in as much as he could.

You eventually parted for breath, a smile on your red and swollen lips as he looked up at you with wide eyes.

“Only ten minutes, and you were that desperate.” You said quietly, making him blush a little through a smile.

“Only for you, princess.”

“Hey, don’t steal my nickname,” you laughed as you swatted at Calum’s chest, before crawling off his lap.

“What, it’s cute,” he said as he offered you a hand to help you stand, chuckling at your clumsiness.

You just smiled in response as you went and retrieved the bottle of nail polish from the kitchen table. You came back and sat beside him again, holding his hand still against his thigh as you balanced the bottle on the coffee table in front of you, dipping in the brush and spreading the polish over his nails once more, easily falling back into the rhythm.

A moment of silence passed as he watched you, then, “How long will this one take to dry?”

You grinned at him, pure, evil delight on your face.

“Twenty minutes.”

Thanks for reading!! Check out my [masterlist] for more fics <3

(and thanks to @theduckgoesquack for helping me with this one, ily jocelyn 😌)

[fic-for-fic-sake]

A Happy Accident

A/N: The other day I found out that Chris Evans may possibly have a sex dungeon? I don’t write real people fics but I knew I HAD to write a Steve Rogers fic about this because I mean...c’mon. Also the text conversation in the fic is indeed a real conversation between my friend and I. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: NSFW, dirty talk, dom/sub, flogging, being tied up, penetrative sex, honorifics, praise kink

Word Count: 5.4k

You knew there was trouble before you even reached the meeting room, it was like a palpable tension you could sense coming from the conference room. You mentally prepared yourself for whatever was to come as you walked in and took your usual spot next to Natasha. 

“Do you have any idea what this is about?” You questioned her, murmuring under your breath since nobody seemed keen to speak above a whisper for the time being. 

“Some kind of security breach, we don’t know how bad yet, we have to wait for Stark.” She explained, speaking in clipped tones. She seemed nervous, which was understandable given the circumstances. A security breach could mean a number of things, none of them good. Anything from weapons tech to secret identities could’ve been revealed in the breach. 

The tension seemed to come to a head when Tony and Steve walked into the room. Everyone erupted into a flurry of activity, peppering the two men with so many questions it was hard to make out what came from who. 

“What was taken?” Someone asked. 

“Was it anything serious?” Someone else wondered. 

“Do we need to scrap the new suit designs?” You asked, adding your voice to the babble. 

“Okay everyone settle down and give Tony some room to think.” Steve urged all of you, forming a one man barrier around Stark. Which you had to admit was rather effective. Once everyone reseated themselves and Steve gave Tony a nod, Tony cleared his throat. 

“By now you all have obviously heard that there’s been a security breach. We don’t know who is behind the breach but so far all that was leaked was text conversations of the following Avengers; Wanda, Sam, Bucky, and Y/N.” 

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. You were a target in the security breach. But why? Why you specifically and why just your text conversations? It seemed rather harmless considering everything else they could’ve taken. 

“Luckily Wanda doesn’t really text anyone because everyone she knows is here. As far as Sam, Bucky, and Y/N are concerned they only leaked conversations from your work phones, meaning your personal phone security isn’t in question.” Tony reassured you all. Well, it reassured Sam and Bucky at least. 

“Um, what do you mean ‘work phone’?” You asked, looking around with a puzzled expression on your face. 

“You do have a burner phone for personal use, right?” Nat asked from beside you. Now your heart was located somewhere in your feet. 

“I didn’t know I needed one.” You whispered, barely contained horror edging its way into your voice. 

“Well, I mean what’s the worst that could be there?” Sam asked, trying to reassure you. Luckily, or unluckily enough, you didn’t have to answer that question because within the coming days they would all find out. 

After the meeting you tried to go about your normal routine and ignore the security breach as best as you could. That got considerably harder the following morning, when the hacker released your private conversations with your friends for all the world to see. They went something like this: 

Sarah: Do you think Steve Rogers is good in bed? 

You: Obviously, dumb question. 

Sarah: Do you think he’s kinky though? 

You: Oh 100%, no way he doesn’t have a secret sex dungeon or something. 

Sarah: Since you’re an Avenger now you should try to find out. 

You: HAHAHAHAHA that’s hilarious and something I’ll never do, in reality. But in theory PUT ME IN COACH! I bet he would probably make me sign an NDA and I would totally be down for that. 

Sarah: I’ll sign a DNR

You: HAA, I would sign the NDA but also have to tell you what’s happening and then I would make you sign an NDA. 

Sarah: Then you’re breaking the NDA??

You: Not if you don’t tell anyone goddamn be cool. 

Sarah: It’s the principle of the thing

You: ...I wonder what kind of dom he is

Sarah: Idk if he’s a daddy. He feels like a Sir or Master. I also think he doesn’t have soft limits, only hard limits. 

You: as much as I would like to think he’s a pleasure dom I don’t think that’s true

Sarah: I agree

You: Maybe a brat tamer? 

Sarah: That feels too tame for him. 

You: Okay so then just a no holds bard whipping dom. I would wait all day in his sex dungeon just to lick his boots when he came home. Does that make me depraved? Probably. 

Sarah: Possibly, I also think he’d degrade the shit out of you, like kinda pet play shit. I also think he has a spreader bar collection. Aaaand an overstimulation kink. 

You: Oh agreed, that and edging. I feel like he would edge you for hours and then leave to go on a mission or something and you’re not allowed to touch yourself and then he comes back hours later and you’re just aching for release. And then only after you’re BEGGING he would let you come. 

Sarah: Oof. How much do you wanna bet his dungeon is like a sensory deprivation thing? Think about it, hours upon hours of not having any form of relief, after begging nonstop, no real form of your senses and then BAM normal orgasm but heightened to the absolute max. 

You: YEP! I bet he’s like the king of aftercare though, like 1000/10 so sweet. Like Steve Rogers is legit such a nice human being so I assume aftercare is the same. 

Sarah: AYO SIR LEMME BE YOUR SUB

You: GOD FORREAL!

Needless to say, you did not leave your room that day. The next day you tried to get away with not leaving your room again but Nat was having none of that. 

“Come on Y/N, I promise it’s not that bad, I’ve said much worse.” She assured you as she practically dragged you out of your room and into the elevator. 

You buried your head in your hands and let out a frustrated scream. “He’s a coworker, Nat, and I totally objectified him and basically said all the filthy things I wanted him to do to me.” 

“And I bet he’s real flattered about it! The man needs a good ego boost every now and then.” She replied with a laugh. To which you responded with another frustrated scream and a kick to the elevator doors as they opened. “I bet he didn’t even read it, I doubt anyone on the team did.” She said, sounding certain in her own thinking. She half convinced you until you walked into the training room and every pair of eyes turned to you, including Steve’s baby blues. Fuck. 

“Okay we’re working in a group today people, focusing on enhanced individuals with external powers. Wanda and Y/N against Sam, Bucky, and Steve.” Nat announced, opening the door to the special training facility. So you and Wanda wouldn’t trash too much of Stark’s equipment with your powers. 

“Hey Y/N, you been to any good sex dungeouns recently? I’m looking for one.” Sam quipped as you made your way to the starting point. Before you could even think about what you were doing the smell of ozone was ripe in the air and you sent a bolt of lightning hurtling towards Sam who was barely able to dodge it in time. 

“Sorry...hand slipped.” You mock apologized, making it clear that you would have another ‘hand slip’ if he didn’t keep his mouth shut. He got the point well enough but the damage was already done. The tension was worse now than when you first found out about the breach, everyone trying not to bring up the elephant in the room. 

Nat cleared her throat and started her countdown and then the training began in earnest. After an hour you were all panting and sweating, utterly spent from your session. Steve passed everyone a water bottle and you took it gratefully, chugging the cool liquid in earnest. It was then that another comment was made, this time by Bucky. 

“Thanks for the aftercare daddy.” He mocked as he opened his own water bottle. Once again the smell of ozone was in the air but you didn’t have a chance to meet your target before Steve had Bucky pressed against the wall, his forearm digging into the other man’s throat. 

“That’s enough.” He growled through his teeth. Everyone was silent for a minute and you almost felt sorry for the deer in the headlights look Bucky was now wearing on his face, almost. A shower of frustrated sparks extinguished all the lights in the room as you stormed from the room, embarrassment trailing after you. 

That had been four hours ago and you hadn’t left your room, despite Natasha banging on the other side of your door. You had asked FRIDAY not to open it for anyone unless given your express permission. It seemed even the AI knew what kind of a mess you had landed yourself into, as she was immediately understanding of such a request. You were in the process of ordering a burner phone off of Amazon when there was a knock at your door. 

“Nat, I don’t care how many books you offer to buy me, I’m NOT coming out of this room.” You yelled into the empty space of your room. 

“Noted, but uh, it’s Steve. Can we talk?” You were at the door before he finished his sentence. You opened it no more than a crack, not courageous enough to do more. 

“I don’t wanna talk to you, I’m mortified.” You mumbled, looking down at your feet instead of the imposing figure outside of your door. Steve gently pushed on the door with his hand and you let him open it the rest of the way. He brought gentle fingers to your chin and tilted your head back so you were looking into his eyes. 

“There’s nothing to be mortified about, sweetheart. I just wanna talk.” He replied beseechingly. And maybe it was the tone of his voice, or the way he looked at you, but you relented and let him in, closing the door softly behind you. 

“Listen, I’m really sorry for what I said. I obviously never thought it would see the light of day but that’s not an excuse and doesn’t make it okay. Fuck, Steve I’m so sorry. I can get reassigned if you want, have SHIELD put me somewhere else.” You rattled off apologies and half baked plans before you felt his hands gently clasp your shoulders and once again you were forced to look up into his eyes which had gone saucer wide. 

“Doll what are you talking about? You don’t need to be reassigned, it's not that big of a deal.” He said, in an attempt to comfort you. 

“Not a big deal? I practically accused you of having a sex dungeon and being a mega dom.” You blurted out, mortification making your voice rise half an octave. 

He let out a soft sigh before he sat down on the edge of your bed, “It’s not like you were completely in the wrong.” He replied, and that’s when your brain short circuited. 

“What? You have a sex dungeon?” 

“Well, it’s not a dungeon, it's just my bedroom, but yes I do, partake in those types of things you described.” He explained, his voice as even and calm as if he were discussing the weather. 

“Oh.” Was all you could really bring yourself to say. 

“Oh? That’s all? I have to say you were much more articulate in your texts.” He teased, his voice suddenly becoming deeper and taking on an air of authority that wasn’t there a second ago. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” 

And again, maybe it was because of his tone or because of the absurdity of the situation you found yourself in but you answered him honestly. “I’m thinking I’m absolutely mortified that my coworker found out how badly I want him to fuck me.” 

“What else?” He prompted. You couldn’t breathe properly, he was taking all the air from the room and the intensity in his gaze pinned you to the spot, like an unsuspecting doe finding itself at the barrel of a gun. 

“I’m wondering how correct my predictions were. What kind of a dom you are.” 

“Would you like to find out?” 

“Yes.” You answered before you could think better of it. The second the word left your mouth your eyes went wide at the confession. Because you did want to find out, God did you want to find out what kind of shit Steve Rogers, the golden boy, was into. 

“Then we have ourselves a deal. You want to find out what I’m into and I want to show you.” 

“Right now?” You asked, breathless. You could feel your core ache at the suggestion, the want plain as day. 

He chuckled before he moved to stand before you. “No pretty girl, not yet.” He whispered, bringing his right hand up to cup your cheek and stroke his thumb across the expanse of your lips. “First we have to talk about a few things.” 

“Like what?” You questioned, completely enraptured by this man, finding yourself willing to submit to whatever he wanted you to. You were terrified by how much the prospect excited you. 

“Like exactly what you want me to do to you. Your texts were very...explicit. But, that may have just been talk. I need to know specifics if this is going to work.” Steve explained, backing you up until you hit your dresser. Without a word he lifted you on top of it and stood between your legs, one of his hands tracing absent minded patterns on your thigh. 

It was hard to think with him in such close proximity but you tried to clear your mind because you really wanted this, your mouth went dry at the thought. “I want...I want to be tied up. And I want to be blindfolded. And whipped.” It felt weird to lay your desires out plain before you like this. It made you feel exposed, but it was also oddly empowering. 

Steve nodded his head at your requests. “You mentioned something to your friend about edging and orgasm denial, is that something you still wanted to try?” 

“Yes, but not, not yet. I’ve never um, I haven’t- I’ve never been kinky with a partner.” You explained to him, feeling an embarrassing heat creeping up your face. 

“Hey, no need to be embarrassed, we all start somewhere.” Steve insisted, bringing his hands up to settle on your hips. “Anything else?” After you shook your head he gave you a nod in reassurance. “Okay, I’ll be in touch.” He said as he stepped away from you. 

That was three days ago and you hadn’t heard anything from him on the matter since. You had trained with him, went for a run with him, had the usual team meetings and exchanged the usual pleasantries but nothing out of the ordinary. You had even gone far enough in your wandering mind to think that maybe you imagined the whole interaction. 

On Friday, you were told that Steve had gone away on a mission and by that point the team was done teasing you about the leaked conversation, already having moved on to the next thing. You had made plans to go out with them that night to a community outreach thing in Manhattan. You had just gotten your jeans on when a piece of paper slid across your floor from the door. 

You walked over to it, thinking someone had just dropped their paper, when you saw what was written on the other side of it.

Text an excuse to Stark for the outreach and then come to my room. -SR 

Your heartbeat sped up to a gallop as you read the message through two more times, just to be certain. This was it, it was happening. With shaky fingers you texted Tony a flimsy excuse about draft reports you needed to finish before you put your phone back on your desk and calmly made your way to Steve’s room. 

You went to knock but found the door slightly ajar. Taking that as your cue you stepped into Steve Rogers room. While it wasn’t the first time you had been here, it was certainly a circumstance that you weren’t used to. Everything seemed...different somehow. The curtains were drawn and the only light came from dim overhead lighting. There was a faint scent of jasmine that you assumed came from a candle or incense burner you couldn’t see somewhere. On the bed, the sheets had been changed to something that looked like silk and resting on top was an eye mask and two long chords of rope. Which seemed innocuous enough, current circumstances notwithstanding. 

“Shut the door and lock it please.” A voice commanded from a shadow in the corner of the room. As soon as you locked the door Steve Rogers emerged from the shadows in an all black version of his Captain America suit. You had never seen him in such a suit before and the sight of him in it made your mouth water and your knees buckle. This was really happening. 

“I have to admit, when I read your text conversation I was surprised to say the least. I didn’t know how many dirty thoughts resided in that head of yours but you did not disappoint, did you sweetheart?” He questioned as he made his way over to where you stood, rooted to your spot by the door. He gently pressed against your shoulder and you followed his lead, letting him back you against the door, his strong hands landing on either side of your head, arms caging you in. “And then when we spoke, you were /very/ specific in what you wanted and I am nothing if not obliging, you’ll find.” He whispered into your ear and you couldn’t help the small moan that escaped your mouth at the implication behind his words. 

“Are you ready to be my good girl? Hmm sweetheart?” 

“Yes Steve.” You whispered, your mind not being able to form anything other than those words. 

He made a slight tsking sound. “In here, don’t call me Steve. It’s Captain. Got it?” 

“Yes Captain.” You replied obediently. 

“Good girl, now get undressed for me.” He commanded, stepping back to give you room to complete his task. With nervous fingers you lifted your shirt above your head and undid the clasp on your bra. You watched as Steve’s eyes took in your exposed top half, he licked his lips which made you shiver in turn. Confidence growing by his visible excitement you unbuttoned your jeans and slipped them down your legs along with your panties, until you were gloriously naked before him. 

“God, you're so beautiful sweetheart. I’m already getting hard and all you’ve done is get undressed.” He praised you as he palmed himself through his tac pants. “Come here pretty girl.” He insisted as he picked up the blindfold. 

You walked over to him and turned around as he secured the blindfold against your eyes and tied it for you. “Now, we’re gonna use a color system, okay? Green means you’re okay to keep going, Yellow means to slow down, and Red means stop. Can you remember that doll?” 

“Yes Captain.” You murmured as you adjusted to not being able to see. You tuned into your other senses to rely on what was happening. You felt Steve take your hand and walk you over until you reached the side of the bed. He helped you up before asking you to lay down on your back. 

“Okay pretty girl I’m gonna tie you up now.” He told you as you felt both of his hands take your left arm and maneuver it above your head before securing your wrist in place with rope. He pressed a gentle kiss to the spot before repeating the process with your other arm. “How do you feel sweetheart?” 

“Good Captain, I feel good.” You told him as your heartbeat kicked up another notch. You felt him take your left leg with gentle fingers and tie your ankle to the baseboard of the bed. You gasped as he secured your right ankle, knowing you were now naked and spread bare before him. You felt the bed dip as he kneeled over you and brought his mouth down to whisper in your ear. 

“What’s your color baby?” 

“Green.” You replied. Almost immediately you felt his lips press against yours, desperate and hungry for you. You kissed back with a fervor you didn’t know you possessed. It was a strange sensation, kissing someone you couldn’t touch let alone see, but that didn’t make it unpleasant. You felt blissfully detached from your body and the need raced down to your pussy until you had the sudden urge to close your legs and hide your arousal. 

Steve chuckled against your mouth as his left hand snaked down to see what you were trying in vain to hide. “So eager for me and we’ve hardly started” He lazily swiped his fingers along your folds to feel the wetness that gathered there. He then brought the same hand up to your breast and worked your juices around your nipple, making you groan at the sheer wantonness of it all. Steve happily swallowed your groan with his mouth, his tongue taking the opportunity to pass your lips. 

You fervently kissed him back as his ministrations against your nipple continued. His lips left yours and left a trail of hot kisses down your throat and over to your neglected right nipple. You felt him blow cold air on it and your back bowed against the bed, your arms straining against the restraints. He scraped his teeth against your sensitive bud and you couldn’t help the noises that escaped your mouth. 

“Oh fuck, Captain.” You let out as he took your nipple into his mouth. You could feel his left hand leave your nipple and you let out a whine of protest. He only laughed against your skin before you heard the faint opening of a drawer. Your ears picked up the sound of him rummaging around for something but you couldn’t focus too much on that as the rest of your body was alight with fire as he continued to work on your nipple with his mouth. He finally found what he was looking for in the drawer and he released your nipple with a wet popping sound before you felt his weight shift and he removed himself from you. 

“You mentioned something about being whipped.” He teased, and you could hear that his own arousal had made his voice hoarse. Your cunt throbbed in response. “Do you know what a flogger is pretty girl?” 

“Yes Captain.” You replied from your position on the bed. Your mouth went dry at the mental image you had of Steve in his black tac suit with a flogger in hand. How would he use it on you? Would it hurt? Be pleasant? The anticipation was eating you up in the best of ways. 

“Good girl. We’re gonna do some counting. Since this is your first time we won’t do too many, just ten. But you have to count them pretty girl. If you forget, or lose count, we start over. Do you understand?” 

Oh fuck. “Yes Captain.” You heard him chuckle from somewhere above you before you heard the whoosh of the flogger and the sensation on your skin. You gasped as the leather straps came down hard against your left nipple. “One.” The second one came down against your right nipple and you found that your pussy clenched around nothing. “Two.” 

Numbers three, four, and five were placed on your nipples and your stomach.

“Halfway there pretty girl, you’re doing so well.” Steve’s voice came from somewhere around you. A thin layer of sweat had broken out over your skin and your arousal was through the roof. You found yourself panting in anticipation of the next strike. It came, the leather striking against your dripping center and you let out a gasp as your back arched off of the silk sheets. “Six” 

“Oh you liked that one didn’t you sweetheart?” Steve teased. 

“Yes Captain.” You replied breathlessly. Number seven came in the same spot and another lewd sound left your mouth as the flogger found its spot. Numbers eight and nine he placed on the sensitive insides of your thighs. 

“Last one pretty girl. You’ve taken it so well I’ll let you decide where this last one goes.” 

“Hit my pussy again, please, I want it so bad Captain.” You practically pleaded. Under any other circumstances you would’ve been ashamed at how pathetic you sounded but you didn’t care. Steve Rogers was doing depraved things to you and you couldn’t think straight. You just wanted him to keep doing what he was doing, to take all of you, every tiny nook and cranny of your being until he knew your pleasures like the back of his hand. 

“Such a needy girl, maybe after the flogger I’ll give you a reward.” He replied, sounding pleased with you, before he placed the tenth and final flog against your aching core. “God you look so sexy like this, blindfolded and tied to my bed, maybe I should leave you here as my own personal fucktoy, would you like that baby?” He asked as he inserted two fingers into your mouth. 

You mumbled your response against the digits, your pussy getting wetter at the thought of him using you like that. You were only half kidding when you had texted your friend about it but now, with your arousal so strong, it sounded more and more enticing. Steve removed his fingers from your mouth and brought them down to your sensitive center, rubbing them up and down your slit before inserting them into your slick heat. You gasped at the intrusion and felt your hips buck up in response to being filled. 

Your walls fluttered around his fingers as he began to pump them at a leisurely pace. You felt him make his way down your body to nestle himself between your spread legs and then his hot breath was fanning out over your cunt as his fingers continued to fuck you. “You look so good, pretty girl. Spread open for me like my own personal feast. God you’re so wet. I guess you like to be flogged.” He spoke, the filthy words that left his lips making you wetter than you already were. Without warning he brought his tongue to you and kitten licked your clit, sending a shockwave through your system. 

He took your clit in his mouth and sucked as he continued to work you with his fingers. You fruitlessly tugged against your restraints and bucked your hips in an attempt to get the friction you so desperately needed. 

“God sweetheart you taste better than I imagined.” Steve commented as his tongue lapped up your juices. “I bet I’ll be able to taste you on my tongue for a week.” 

“Fuck, Captain, please can I cum?” You begged, tears wetting the inside of your mask from the intensity of your session. 

“Come for me baby, let me feel you come on my fingers.” Steve commanded and that was your undoing. The knot that had been building inside of you was finally released and you came loudy around his fingers. You felt him lick you through the aftershocks. 

“Talk to me, pretty girl, how are you feeling?” Steve questioned, voice hot once again by your ear. His suit gently pressing against your overstimulated skin. “Give me a color.” He asked, pressing a gentle kiss to your jawline. 

“I’m good Captain, still Green.” You responded, coming down from your orgasm. 

“Such a good girl for your Captain. You’re doin’ so well pretty girl.” He said as he left the bed. You weren’t sure where he went until you felt his dexterous fingers undoing the ropes on your left leg. “I’m undoing the leg ropes first. And then I’m going to fuck you senseless like I’ve been wanting to do since I saw those damn text messages.” Your spent cunt clenched around nothing, as you eagerly waited for him to undo the other leg restraint. You could hear him undo the many zippers and clasps on his tac suit until the bed dipped and he was once again between your legs. 

This time skin met skin as you felt his upper thighs press between yours as he brought himself closer to you still. You felt the tip of his cock slide between your wet folds before slipping inside. The breath was stolen from your lungs at the feel of him sinking into your waiting cunt. A low moan left your mouth as you felt every perfect inch of him spreading you until he bottomed out and his hips nestled perfectly against your own. 

You felt his forehead press against your own. “Fuck you feel perfect, you know that pretty girl? My perfect little pussy.” He breathed against your mouth as he let you adjust to him. He retracted himself from you fully before swiftly filling you up again. Any noise you may have made was swallowed as he kissed you with a hunger you didn’t think was possible. What started as a slow rhythm quickly changed until he was snapping into you with a fervor akin to a madman. 

Your hips eagerly met his thrusts and soon your combined pants and skin slapping filled the room. Still blindfolded, you felt the moment his hand wrapped around your neck and squeezed just so. That had your walls flutter around him and your hips stuttered. 

“Oh you like that don’t you? You like when I choke you huh pretty girl?” He asked eagerly, his voice husky from moaning. 

“Yes, fuck, please Captain, fuck me.” You rasped out. You grunted as he brought his other hand down to press your hips into the mattress before he slammed into you at a relentless pace. Eventually, his hand left your throat to play with your bundle of nerves. 

“Come on pretty girl. Come for me.” He ordered and you were only too happy to comply. You came hard around him, enough that you saw stars behind the blindfold and Steve let out a string of curses and praises for you as he pulled out of you and you felt his cum paint your stomach. 

You had a moment to catch your breath as you heard Steve pad over to what you assumed was the bathroom. He came back and placed a warm washcloth against your skin, cleaning up the combined mess you both made. Then you felt his hands move up to untie the blindfold around your eyes. You squinted into the low light of the room and were shocked to see Steve bare chested and glistening with sweat before you. 

“Hi.” You murmured shyly, finding that some of your confidence had left you along with the blindfold. Seeing him like this, because of you, because of what you had done, somehow cemented this moment in reality. There was no turning back now. 

“Hi yourself, how do you feel?” He asked as he undid the ropes around your wrists. 

“I um wow, I feel great.” You said and realized it was true. In the afterglow of the scene you felt amazing. Sexy and empowered and utterly spent but undeniably amazing. 

“You did great.” Steve assured you as he took lotion into his hands and massaged the areas on your wrists and ankles where the ropes had been. He placed a gentle kiss on each palm when he was done and went to get you a glass of water. “Drink all of this.” 

You took the glass from his hands and drank deep. Appreciating the cool feeling of the water as it slid down the column of your throat, you didn’t realize how thirsty you had become. You finished the glass and handed it back to Steve, who placed it on one of his bedside tables. 

“Good girl.” He praised and you felt yourself blush in response. He noticed. “Do you like being praised, sweetheart?” 

“Yes Captain.” You nodded. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He replied as he helped you into one of his shirts and placed you underneath the covers. He rested beside you and wrapped you in his strong arms. “You did so well today for your first time. It wasn’t too much for you was it?” 

“No, I really liked it.” You reassured him. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead with a promise to discuss it more after you slept some.

[jarofstyles]

Fan Club

A/N: This story.... it’s very near and dear to our hearts. We have a total of 7 parts written, 80k words total. It is our take on the PR relationship trope, mixed with Harry gets with a fan trope. It’s full of angst, full of sweet moments and smutty moments alike. We LOVE these two, they are quite literally our children. It is a bit more personal for the reader in some aspects, we know we have all imagined what it would be like to be with Harry at some point, so this goes out to you. We made Y/N of Russian decent in this one, just to make things fun ( and because we wanted some representation for our Russian babes out there 🤧). All in all, we are extremely proud to present Fan Club to you, we hope you enjoy ✨✨ - n + d

send feedback and requests here 

masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: angst, glimmers of fluff

word count: 11.2k

It was hard for Y/N to explain how she ended up in this situation. Fake Dating international popster, Harry Styles. To be honest, it was all a bit of a crazy story even for Y/N. She couldn’t believe it either. Y/N was a simple girl with simple taste. Her older sister, Katya, owned a bakery called ‘for goodness bakes’ that’s been open for about 5 years, Y/N has been working there alongside her. She spent most of her time at the bakery, having just graduated with a degree in business marketing. She liked doing things most 22 year old girls liked doing: fun makeup, nights in with wine and romcoms, and of course being a fan of Harry Styles. 

Since she was 12 years old, she had been a fan of One direction and well... Harry was always her favorite. She initially fell for his preppy appearance, but ultimately fell for his charm and quirkiness once she fell deep into the fandom. And she did fall deep. She had a stan account on every social media platform, she bought merch and multiple copies of albums, and even wrote fanfiction on wattpad. To say she was a big fan was an understatement. 

About a month ago, Harry’s team had reached out to her via the email of her bakery. They had seen the post that she made, a picture of herself with a kiwi tart with the caption, ‘it’s none of your business.... unless?’ and had asked if they could have a meeting with her at their headquarters. Obviously, Y/N agreed to this meeting, thinking that they might want her to cater an event or something. But no, they wanted her to be his ‘girlfriend’. 

They had explained to her that they had been searching for the perfect candidate who was not only a fan, but was also just a regular everyday girl. They said they liked her aesthetic and felt like she would suit Harry well. Her background in business marketing meant that she would be good at knowing what to post and her being a fan meant her love for him would be believable. The fans and media would eat this story up! It took Y/N a moment to comprehend what they were asking her to do, but they started bringing up numbers and Y/N couldn’t say no. This would get her and her sister out of debt and could pay for so much new equipment at the bakery. This sum of money could change her life. Plus, she’d get to fake date her idol? It seemed like an offer she couldn’t pass up. So she signed the contract. 

That’s what landed her here, waiting patiently at the door of Harry’s secret London home where his manager Jeff said to meet the two of them to discuss the plan from here on out. Her heart was beating extremely quickly, wanting to keep things cool. She didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, she wanted him to like her and trust her.

Harry hadn't started off jaded. Granted, most didn’t. They had the sparkle and excitement. But Harry had lost it. Years and years in the industry, from when he was a teenager to present, it had ruined it for him. That excitement he had previously had been watered down immensely. A lot, actually. But he was mostly tired of the things that came with the job— not music itself. 

Harry loved music. Making it, writing it, performing it. He loved his fans. But he hated what came with if. The people who constantly wanted things from him. Not a moment of privacy when he was out and about— though that had gotten better as his fans grew up, honestly. The media blowing up and twisting every bit of his words to fit their own wants. The fact that anyone he was seen with was a potential love interest in the eyes of the media. How they scared off and ruined good things for him because of it. He was tired of that. Every person who came to him made him wary. What was the motive? What was the reasoning behind them coming to talk to him? Fan or someone wanting a photo just for their Instagram? He wasn’t sure. 

Relationships had been hard and for now, he’d basically sworn off of them. After the bad ending with Camille, he had decided to take a long break. Until the label said he should probably have a PR move, one unlike his previous ones. One involving dating someone posing as a fan. A regular person, without his level of fame. Someone relatable to fans. Or that’s what Jeff has said to him. At this point, Harry was used to being tugged around with his dating life so he agreed. Did he want to? No. But he was under contracts and he wasn’t going to fight something so stupid. It would be a few dates, hanging out. Right? He didn’t even have to talk much to her. 

He was far too aware they probably offered her a good amount of money. Most likely why she was even there. So when he let Jeff open the door, he was annoyed with himself. 

She was pretty. Fuck off. That’s how he felt. A lackluster wave was given to her, a nod as well as she sat down across from him at his oak dining table. Cute. Pretty hair, soft cheeks. Petal pink lips. If this wasn’t a stunt he would probably think she was a lot cuter, though. 

A wave. 

Years worth of build up for this moment and all Y/N had gotten was a wave? She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Y/N offered him a smile, a shy but genuine one before looking over at Jeff. Obviously she had known who Jeff was, how could she forget the iconic ‘help me Jeffrey!’ Quote. The hundreds of photos of them together. It was surreal, but her shock surprisingly helped her stay calm. 

“Alright! Harry, Y/N. Y/N, Harry.” Jeff smiled at her, knowing Harry wasn’t happy about being here. “So have you been properly briefed about what’s required? It’s a lot more than we would usually ask of a project like this, a while longer.” He said. Harry looked at him in question. What?

“Yes, they gave me a brief outline at the meeting I went to but nothing too specific. They said you’d go over that here.” Y/N answered, pushing a few pieces of hair behind her ear. “Oh?” She asked, knowing she had signed a contract for a year. It was a long time but she assumed everyone was in it for that long. Y/N really didn’t know how PR relationships worked, she just assumed things about them through what she had seen on the internet and what all the stans were saying. She never really believed that people did things like this, but clearly, they did. 

Y/N looked over at Harry once again, taking any spare moment she could to really take him in. He was just sitting there looking so fucking perfect. An angel in the flesh. This was the man who had sparked her sexual awakening, who had taught her to be a badass bitch and to be kind to everyone she met. She knew she wasn’t his type and that this wouldn’t really end up like a fan fic, but she couldn’t wait to at least become his friend.

“Wait— how long?” His voice was deep and rather cold, but he wasn’t aware it was longer than usual. Granted— his own fault. Jeff said to look over the contract and he had just signed. It had been so many years of reading contracts he was tired of it. 

“A year. There’s a clause to extend it if need be, or shorten after 8 months.” Jeff shot him a look. “But that’s only one of the differences. I know you’re tired H, but get it together.” He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Y/N here is the perfect girl next door. We found her to be perfect to do this with you. But it’ll be different because it’ll be a confirmed relationship. All other stunts, they’d been left to interpretation and never spoken about them. Blacklisted questions in interviews, etc. but we’re going with the narrative of you both being quite comfortable talking about it. Y/N won’t have to admit much considering she has her own life and job outside of this, but you’ll be talking about it in interviews. About this lovely girl who made you rethink how you went about relationships.” It was odd. A whole storyline for their relationships. 

“We know how to work this. You’ll both first be photographed together downtown. Harry holding your hand, Y/N. And then we will plant things in each of your social media posts to hint at it. Seemingly innocent but, a tattoo of his in the background. Wearing a shirt he has recently worn. His journal. All of those things.” Jeff explained the beginning of it. “From there, you’ll be more open. Post photos or do those Instagram stories your bakery is good at, Y/N. Have his voice in the background. Be photographed out and about. Simple things, grocery shopping. Y/N will come to your small gig, Harry. Hang around with your mum, and wear one of your rings on a necklace.” He would buy one and wear it for a bit before giving it to her so there was proof it was his. “When we get into it... we’re thinking cute Instagram posts from both of you. Open. Affectionate. A bit of an acting job. You’ll both be good at it though. I am confident you both can handle it.” He wasn’t sure how nonchalant Harry was seeming, though. Y/N seemed uneasy with how out of it Harry seemed to be and he didn’t blame her. 

“That’s quite a lot more than I bargained for.” Harry spoke again, sighing. “I suppose if it’s necessary for the numbers. I don’t know why I can't just do a meet and greet or something but. Okay.” He muttered.

Harry’s voice didn’t sound like the Harry Y/N knew. It was rather rough and not in the way she had grown to like it. It made her look away from him quickly, not wanting to piss him off. Maybe he was just having a bad day? She couldn’t really blame him. She was sure having all these fake relationships probably sucked. The tasks seemed fairly easy. Y/N knew that the team would be there to remind them about things and well, if she got to hang around Harry all the time, it really couldn’t be that bad. She really wanted to get to know Harry and hoped that he wanted to do the same. It would be more fun that way.

“You know why. Y/N is perfect. The fans will love her. She’s gorgeous, but has the girl next door stuff about her. Plus, she’s very nice. You’ve been lovely, Y/N.” Jeff turned to her, attempting to comfort her.

Y/N really needed to stop giving Harry the benefit of the doubt. He just kept proving her wrong. The tension between Harry and Jeff showed that Harry really wasn’t on board and it made Y/N feel strange. She thought that Harry had agreed to this and knew all the conditions, she didn’t think this was something that was sprung on him that he didn’t really get to think about. She smiled shyly again at Jeff’s compliment, looking back at Harry to try and read him. 

“I’m sure it’s weird having some stranger come around to be your girlfriend and all, but it’s just as new for me if that makes you feel better.” Y/N really wanted him to like her. Like really wanted him to like her.

Harry wasn’t sure what she was playing at. What she wanted. If it was more money or fame or whatever. He wasn’t sure exactly why she was doing this either besides for money. Whoever wanted to do this for fun would be absolutely crazy. 

“Thanks.” Harry nodded stiffly. Half of him didn’t like treating her coldly, but the bigger part was terrified of getting hurt. If she was using him for more money. Going to ask him to introduce her to someone else. No one ever liked him for him. They liked the things that came. The attention and money, luxury that was thrown at him. It was never for him or his love or jokes or interests.

Sure, people pretended to care but he knew far better than that. People didn’t care. They used him as a step stool to get what they wanted. Means to an end. Just like his last relationship that had really hurt him. 

Okay so he didn’t like her. Cool. Y/N couldn’t say it didn’t hurt because it definitely did, but she couldn’t sit here and cry about it. Y/N had come to this meeting and signed a year long contract and there was no getting out of it. So she sucked it up, looking back at Jeff who had explained what he wanted them to do. 

“So what we’ll do is have you both take photos of things today. Harry, you take a photo of your new guitar and have the flowers in the background. Y/N, you’ll take photos of the flowers and have just the bottom of the guitar on the counter.” It must be shocking for someone who wasn’t in the industry to see how this was so calculated.

“Would you want us to post them at different times then?” Y/N questioned, assuming hers would be uploaded first. If she posted it before Harry people would be more likely to connect the dots that the two of them were together. Well, that’s what Y/N would think as a fan. Being a fan and having a fan’s perspective would really help her in these situations because well, she knew what they wanted to hear and what they would think based on what she posted. Y/N felt like she could fully manipulate the fans to think whatever. It was quite simple really.

Y/N’s main account proved that she was a normal girl who also happened to be a Harry stan. She followed Harry on all the socials, but he probably would wait to follow her until they were public. That would make more sense. They needed to build up the story.

See. Harry wasn’t aware that she was a fan fan. There were plenty of people who went to his shows and shit for Instagram photos and videos. He didn’t even know her socials though so he didn’t check. It was maybe a little shitty of him to have a preconceived notion about her when she hadn’t barely talked to him, but he knew so many people who wanted to be in her position. Wanted to ‘date’ a celebrity until they found out that they have to travel with them and have to deal with fans and other people wanting your significant other. 

“I’m thinking not too far apart. Take the photos today but... hm. You post first. And then Harry will later. It’ll have people looking later on when they see the flowers. Fans are so insightful and research thoroughly.” Jeff was sure she knew that though. She’s had a fan account. “I have to go take this call— Harry, why don’t you tell Y/N about the album?” He excused himself then, going out and into the other room. 

No, no, Jeff, don’t leave. Y/N sighed to herself, nervous as all hell to be in a room with Harry alone when he had made it clear that he didn’t really want anything to do with her. But maybe they could talk about his album like Jeff suggested? Y/N loved his music, she often played it at her bakery. She was excited for the new album to drop and had genuine questions about it. 

Harry felt a bit on the spot but he just shrugged. “S’almost done. Don’t have a title yet. Choosing the singles soon I think.”

“That’s exciting.” Y/N smiled, “would you say it’s within the same vein as self titled or did you go in a different direction?” She asked not wanting to sound like an interviewer but this was a genuine question. God this was so uncomfortable for her, she wanted to run away and cry. She never thought that her idol would make her feel so uncomfortable in his presence. She was in his home and he clearly didn’t want her there, clearly didn’t want to have a fake girlfriend, and he was letting her know that pretty obviously whether he knew it or not.

The thing is, Harry knew he was making her uncomfortable but he didn’t really know how to stop it either. It wasn’t like he wanted to be fake. He didn’t want this. He wanted to be left alone with his music and his fans. Not a pretend fan posing as his girlfriend. That wasn’t ideal. No, he would much rather have real conversations with fans that weren’t paid to sit in his house and pretend to be interested in his music. He knew that Jeff wanted him to play nice though, so he answered the question vaguely. As always. 

“Different. A lot of different influences I guess. A lot of different things I wanted to make. It’s fun to do it.” God, Harry was being bland. But his fears drowned out the guilt he felt. Yeah, maybe it was harsh. He knew that. But he also knew that he would regret it if he didn’t. Who knew what this chick would spill to the press later on? What she would want from him! What else she would ask Jeff for.

“Well that’s good. I’m glad to hear it was fun.” Y/N nodded at his answer, feeling discouraged because he really didn’t seem like he was going to warm up to her no matter what she did. Y/N didn’t want to ask anything too specific in fear that he’d think she was a crappy fan, and well, she didn’t know how else to get him to warm up to her. These tricks usually worked on grumpy customers at the bakery. 

She wanted the earth to swallow her up. She was so embarrassed. She was just sat there, praying that she could leave soon so she could lock herself in her room and cry. The worst part was, no one, literally no one, could know about this relationship being fake. There could be no loose ends. 

“Again, I’m sorry about all this. Can’t imagine being in your position...” Y/N showed genuine empathy for him, attempting to get him on her good side one more time. Y/N wouldn’t give up on being kind, after all, he was the one that taught her that. It was just strange that he was acting this way towards someone he was going to be working closely with. Maybe this was just how he treated people professionally. He wasn’t mean, but he was cold. Y/N was still a fan at heart though and despite how he treated her she still would give her life for him. She loved him, cared for him, and would genuinely support him. It made her wonder if his whole nice guy persona was even real.

The hell? Why was she apologizing? Harry thought. She was the one getting paid for it. If he wasn’t in this position she wouldn’t be getting paid well. He wasn’t sure why this Y/N girl was trying to be so nice to him. No way in hell she could possibly imagine his annoyance. Perhaps she was a nice person or something, usually. But he was pretty positive she wasn’t rich and definitely did it for the money. It made him wary of being close to anyone when they were in this situation. Any time he had made friends with past stunts, they’d faked being truly wanting to hang out with him. Once it ended, they weren’t interested in hanging out when people couldn’t see them. It had hurt when he realized it was a pattern. 

Jeff came back in with a smile, but not oblivious to her sad face. Harry would get chewed out after, for sure. “Alright! I need you both to exchange numbers so you can communicate about meeting up. It’ll be pretty frequently.”

Y/N looked at Jeff with a small smile, nodding her head before pulling her phone out and handing it to Harry. She had changed her lock screens to something a bit more ordinary. After all, she didn’t want Harry thinking she was creepy or anything. Hanging out with Harry is something that she should be excited about, but suddenly the idea of it kind of scared her. Being alone and struggling to make conversation because she was just that intimidated by him. It was making her rethink all the years that she had spent fangirling over him. He didn’t know she was a fan, maybe that’s why he treated her the way he did? If he knew would he be fake and all over it? She didn’t want to know. 

“My days off from the bakery are Mondays and Wednesdays. But I know you probably have a set schedule so just let me know and I’ll work around it.” Y/N offered, genuinely wanting to show both Harry and Jeff that she was more than willing to cooperate. She wasn’t sure how she would get herself out of this one.

Harry sighed as he put his number in. God, he hoped she didn’t sell it. He didn’t want a new number. Someone had sold his number to fans before and it had sucked. As much as he adored his fans? He didn’t want them calling him every second. He was hesitant in handing her his phone. It was something he didn’t trust many people with but she tenderly took it and typed her own number in. Didn’t even try to snoop which was good— but then again, he was looking at the phone in her hand. 

Y/N was gentle with Harry’s phone in her hand, typing in all of her information into the contact so he didn’t have to ask. Something told her he would be annoyed having to asking her for her address if need be. So she just put everything in there, her birthday, her email, her phone number and the bakery number, as well as her address. 

“Monday’s and Wednesday’s work with him. He’s recording Thursday Friday and Sunday to give the voice a rest. Has some writing sessions he will take you to.” Jeff was annoyed as hell at Harry’s lack of kindness. He’d have to give him his own brand of talking to, but wasn’t sure if it would do much good. He was quite a stubborn person. An Aquarius at heart.

“That’s good. Yeah, I don’t know if you’re a morning person or if you like getting your sleep so um.. yeah just text me.” Y/N spoke kindly, still trying her hardest to be as accommodating as possible. To Y/N it wasn’t about the money, sure the money helped, but it was about giving Harry fans someone they could genuinely look up to. Y/N was a normal girl. She had normal sizes, normal tasks, normal likes as a human. She was a kind person. The fans would quickly find her information, quickly find out that she is a fan and would quickly see that Harry was finally dating someone that represented them. They had wanted someone like that for years, but too bad it was all fake.

Harry understood the context of it. He was going to date someone ‘normal’. Not in the world of the famous. Which in some cases, Harry wouldn’t mind. But there would be tons of things Y/N wouldn’t understand. What to be quiet about. Who to talk to and who not to. Privacy. Things she wouldn’t just... get. He had been in this life for 10 years now. It was his normal. And Y/N would have to learn it all and keep her mouth shut. 

“I am. I get up at 6.” He usually did. He could sleep in but he wasn’t the type of thing he did often. What she didn’t know was he had an awful time sleeping and needed to take stuff to help him. His mind never stopped, was always going. There was a lot Y/N didn’t know about him. He would do his best to make sure she didn’t find out.

It was hard for Y/N, continuing to be kind, but to keep herself from crying. She felt so out of place and so unwelcome, god she hoped that he would warm up to him. Maybe this was a terrible idea? Too bad she was in it for the long haul now. 

“Jeff, I have a question.” Y/N spoke up shyly, “obviously people don’t know anything about this yet, so there isn’t a microscope over my life just yet. I want to make sure I take all the precautions I can to keep my privacy to an extent, but also don’t violate Harry’s.” She genuinely was worried about that. She didn’t want to say too much or do the wrong things, she also didn’t want people finding out where she lived. Where she worked, sure, well... she probably would have to stop working at the bakery if things got too hectic. Y/N looked at Harry once again, a soft and gentle expression on her face. She wondered what it was about her that was making him act this way because this wasn’t the Harry she knew, not at all. All she wanted to do now is go home as quickly as possible and cry. She really wanted to take her posters down, really wanted to hide everything but frankly, everyone would question why she suddenly took things down. Y/N had to continue to keep her cool.

Jeff’s face softened. they’d lucked out with this one. Harry was an idiot when it came to things like this, put his blinders on— he knew well enough. But Y/N would help his career. Hell, maybe she could be his friend and help him come out of the funk he had been in with trusting people. 

Harry didn’t let it show on his face, but he was impressed with what she said. It didn’t change much, but he had it on the back of his mind. No one else had to think of these things before because they’d just known, but the fact that she had asked was nice. Time would only tell if it was genuine, though. 

“That’s a good question— I was actually about to ask about your social media. You’re going to need to change passwords. Verify everything twice. Take any potential tracking information away like the whole location finding on your phone so your friends can find you. Any social media accounts not reported to us originally in our first meeting would need to be shown. I suggest doing a deep clean and moving things out of it, as much as you can. Not enough to make you look like you did it on purpose. But... think of what you’d look for.” Jeff knew Y/N was a fan so she would have a similar brain.

“Okay yeah, I’ll need some help with that.” Y/N blushed, looking down at her hands. She had reported all her socials to them, yes, all of them. All her fan accounts and her main accounts. She wasn’t sure how to turn off all the tracking things or what to take down. She wasn’t problematic in any sense, so it wasn’t like she had any content she needed to delete. But it would probably be things like taking locations off of photos and turning off her location on snap map and for any of her friends that had her on there. She had actually done the latter this morning. 

“Also, I really don’t intend on telling anyone about this unless you give me the go ahead. So please, if there is anything you need me to do, let me know?” Y/N really was trying to think of everything here. She wanted to make sure this was seamless because she knew the fans would be like hawks over another fan being Harry’s girlfriend, if they found out it was PR they’d be crushed. Their whole image of Harry would be ruined. They needed to make this as real as possible. Y/N had so many suggestions, so many insights on what it was like to be a fan. She definitely wanted to speak up about anything that could potentially ruin this because well, this was Harry’s career and they couldn’t be caught doing this.

“Perfect! You’re going to do well with this, Y/N.” Jeff had been the one to find her so technically, this was his finding. He hoped that she could get Harry to realize how weird he was being. Because ultimately? He was a nice guy. He loved his fans, his friends and his family. Strangers scared him. He didn’t know who to trust and that made him act strangely. His team knew it. He was always polite to people he worked around but when it came to people invading his personal life, getting close? He said, no ma’am. “I’m happy that you’re aware of how it works a little. It makes it a bit easier. Harry here has had a few almost disasters with these types of things.” Jeff smirked at him, making Harry grumble and blush a little bit. Fuck. That wasn’t something he liked talking about too much. “Anyways... Y/N, we need you to be yourself. That’s why you were chosen, yeah? Just continue on. Be less active on that other twitter account of yours for the moment.” He had a whole plan for that. “Don’t stop completely but... I’ll send you ideas of what to tweet. Keep it vague but that you’re excited.” 

Harry didn’t know about the fan account. He would have, if he had read any paperwork, but right now he didn’t have a clue. 

They wanted her to be herself, which shouldn’t be too much of a problem. She just had to be aware that Harry was in her life now, consistently. He was her ‘boyfriend’ now. That’s something Y/N never thought she’d say. But here she was. 

“Okay, can do.” Y/N nodded, already knowing not to tweet as much on the fan account because well, she wouldn’t be doing that if she was hanging out with Harry. It would be hard for her not to tell anyone but she knew she had to do it. This was her duty as a fan to the fans, to make them feel represented and loved. “And what’s the story? Like how we met?” Y/N asked, feeling like that was important to know as well. She mostly asked for Harry’s sake because he clearly didn’t read the contract or the emails that had been sent around on the topic. This was an important first meeting, she assumed Harry wouldn’t want to hang out with her today but they probably would sometimes next week.

“Well, we wanted to leave that up to you. I had the idea of you both frequenting the same coffee shop— and before you both roll your eyes, I know it’s a fan fiction trope and I know that. But it’s believable considering Y/N doesn’t have any true connection that would be explainable to the music or entertainment industry.” Jeff explained. “If you have better ideas, Y/N, please feel free to tell me. However— we are trying to show this as you both fell for one another quite quickly. You both are very fond of one another and are around each other quite a lot.” He knew that Harry would be hard to deal with so he was definitely going to be offering Y/N some sort of bonus. “I think after the photos, we will have you both photographed leaving a dinner together next week. You’ll go with both myself and my girlfriend so it won’t be just throwing you two into the water.” Plus, he didn’t want her to be alone with Harry like that out in public without experiencing it first with him there. Jeff felt slightly protective of her, too. Like a little sister. “Also, I know you already said he’s but being clear— you’re okay with hand holding and physical touches in public with him, yeah? And for photos?”

Y/N laughed at the idea, “I mean that does work.” She said shrugging to herself. “But do we have anything to back that up? Have we ever been to the same coffee shop at the same time where someone who works there can confirm?” Y/N was really thinking about every detail here. “Jeff you’ve been to my bakery before haven’t you? Could just run with the fact that we became acquainted and you introduced us?” She felt like that was far more believable and paps wouldn’t have gotten photos of Jeff anyway so the story was contained between Harry’s team and her bakery. Her coworkers wouldn’t know who Jeff is, it was really fool proof. Also, did he say dinner next week? Wow, that was fast but she would be ready. “Where is dinner going to be? Just want to think about what I should wear.” Y/N blushed, wanting to make sure she looked nice for their first encounter together. Something very her but very consistent with something Harry would like on a girl. Y/N had been following Harry for ages, she knew what kind of outfit to wear based on what kind of restaurant it was. A casual dinner outfit for Harry was quite dressed up, so she’d probably end up doing a bold trouser, heeled boot, and plain blouse combo.

“Actually— that’s a good idea. I didn’t think about the staff thing. This was definitely done at the last minute so I’m not on my A game right this moment. Wonderful— lets do that.” 

Harry didn’t know anything about her, he realized. She worked in a bakery? He did when he was younger. He wasn’t sure if she knew that or not but it did make him a tiny bit more interested in her. Why would she do this? There had to be a real reason. He was positive. 

“Actually— Harry, go in there a few times this week. Make it somewhere people know you go. It’ll be believable that you found a new place and love it. And some of her coworkers will catch on, so on and so forth. I can call a tip, perhaps tomorrow? I know it’s starting early but we are on a schedule.” Jeff noted.

Harry was going to go to write tomorrow, but that obviously wasn’t about to happen. “I guess so. I can make time.” He had a pretty free day otherwise but it still annoyed him. However he was hoping there were good treats. Harry was a good actor when it came down to it. He hoped she could tell— didn’t want to thrust her about with his actions. In public was acting. All of it.

“And yes, about the touches and stuff. As long as it’s something Harry would actually do in public, yeah.” Y/N explained, knowing Harry was relatively private when he was in relationships. He didn’t do much PDA and she’d be okay with anything he was okay with. “Just um, let me know what’s okay.” It was a bit nerve—wracking, having to do all of this and make sure everything was sorted. Y/N knew a lot about Harry so she was positive that it wouldn’t be a problem, she’d only learn more. It was Harry that had to do a bit of learning about her. He would find out most things about her fairly quickly, she was an open book. 

“What type of baked good do you like?” Y/N asked, genuinely curious. “I’ll have some for you come around, pack you a little box.” She blushed, expressing something to him that she had always wanted to do. She knew he was a baker back in the day, maybe they’d bond over it?

Her coworkers would be shocked that Harry would be there considering Y/N was a massive fan and they knew that. But that’s when Y/N would tell them about it all. “You want me to tell my staff what exactly?” She wondered, “that we are kinda sorta seeing each other? Or that we’re just seeing how things go?”

“Uh— I like lemon things. Ginger cookies. Scones.... anything really.” Harry said quietly. It wasn’t said as coldly as the last couple words had been. Maybe it was because of baked goods? Regardless.... he was hoping that said bakery was good. He was obviously going to pay for them. 

“He also loves red velvet cupcakes.” Jeff piped up. “But I think that it’s a lovely idea, being familiar with what he likes... you’ve been so smart.” She really was. It was almost scary. Jeff approves immensely. Even Harry had to admit it was surprising to see her full of good ideas. “I think you should say you’ve been seeing one another. Not sure about where it will go but you really like him. Trust me— Harry here will be able to make them believe he’s very into you. His ability has made it so we’ve never been caught doing this thing. Not like that Camila and Shawn couple. They’re having leaks all over.” He winced. Their poor PR.

Y/N smiled and nodded at him, already having in mind what she would have ready for him when he came. She had an incredible lemon bar recipe and some other bits. Of course red velvet cupcakes. “Red Velvet are my favorite too. And carrot cake.” She commented, blushing once again. It’s true, Harry had been very good at all the PR relationships. She’d soon find out which ones were and which weren’t. She was determined to be the most coveted of them all though, the one that stuck out and actually stuck around hopefully. But she was positive that she’d fall for Harry’s act, hell, she’d fallen for him a long long time ago. “My staff is really tight knit, my sister runs most things actually. I trust they’ll keep things on the down low if I ask them to.” Y/N nodded, knowing that nothing would slip past her team unless instructed. She had a good feeling about all of this, they seemed to have most things under control. Y/N would help tie up loose ends that fans might think of and as long as they followed her lead, it would work.

“If you feel as though your sister can truly hold a secret, you can tell her. It wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t have someone to lean on.” Jeff said. He trusted her enough. Harry looked at him suspiciously. 

“Wait— hold on. What about an NDA?” Harry asked hurriedly. “We can't have any bit of this shit going out.” He was scared. So scared of someone finding out and thinking he was some damn fraud. 

“Harry— it’s fine. I’m sure she had enough sense to judge that a sister would tell or not. It’s up to her, anyways. Just remind her of the immense legal action that could take place if someone were to talk.” Jeff shrugged, knowing that Y/N really did know. “But we’ll have a tip called in about a bakery he’s been rumored to go to— no way that they’ll know if it’s true— and they’ll probably take shots through the window. We can escalate later during the week to him picking you up from work to bring you home. Something like that before the dinner.” He thought out loud. “Thoughts? Y/N?” Harry has been quiet. He didn’t like these things so he didn’t say much. Just let them plan whatever and wing with it later on. He was kind of shut down internally.

“I’ll think about it. But I’m still apprehensive to tell anyone. I wouldn’t want this getting out regardless... I wouldn’t want fans to lose trust in Harry just because I decided I wanted to tell my sister.” Y/N explained, knowing she’d probably tell Katya if it got too intense, but for now, she wasn’t saying anything. “Seems fine. I think once a week or maybe twice a week is more than enough. Don’t want to over kill either. Essentially, if he’s in the area he can pop by.” Y/N explained, thinking that was the best way to go about it. “I know you said we are on a schedule but you don’t want it to look unnatural either.” She said and sighed as she looked over at Harry. 

He really didn’t seem to like this and she understood but she hoped that he would loosen up even a little bit. She wasn’t a terrible person, all he had to do was ask. Y/N was pretty much an open book. “Is there anything else?” Y/N asked, eager to get things done and maybe chat to Harry a bit if he was willing before going home.

“I don’t think so. We’re going to try and take it as it comes so we don’t overwhelm you.” Jeff was the main talker and Harry was kind of just sitting and watching. Trying to read her. Either she was a very good hiding person, or she was good. Either way, he didn’t trust her. Lots of people had seemed sweet and generous and fun when he had first met them only to turn out to absolutely wreck his fragile heart. He knew he was fragile that way and he had given people the benefit of the doubt one too many times. He didn’t trust his own radar anymore. The more Harry looked, the prettier Y/N got— which was infuriating. It pissed him off internally because she had the type of lips every man wanted wrapped around their cock, and beautiful legs he had seen when she walked in. He never took women for granted, would never disrespect them, but his initial reaction was arousal and that made it even worse with his trust issues. Her eyes were soft and doll like but had a sharpness to them that he was far too aware of. She was smart. Incredibly so. And she was curvier than he usually dated— or was seen with, actually, because he had a few one nighters with girls that was far bigger than Y/N and he had loved it. He liked her body. It was a perfect mix, he thought. And then got annoyed about even thinking about it. Damn it.

Y/N nodded, “Alright, thank you very much. I’ll um... I’ll take the picture of those flowers and I’ll get out of your hair.” She chuckled apologetically, sensing that Harry really just wanted this to end and she would give that to him. He made her so nervous, now more so because she was scared of making him angry with her. Harry had always been someone she didn’t want to get on the bad side of. Harry was so nice to everyone that it really made her upset that for some reason he had singled her out and not liked her. It was disappointing. But I guess people were right when they say, never meet your idols. In many ways, Harry was Y/N’s ideal man. She liked how driven he was, how multi talented he was, how charming he was, how he was unapologetically himself. Plus he was scientifically proven to be one of the most attractive men on this planet next to ryan gosling. It was a shame that a lot of the things she had thought about Harry originally would slowly crumble as she got to know him better. It hurt, but she’d keep that hurt to herself. Just because the illusion was ruined for her didn’t mean it was ruined for everyone.

Harry felt bad, because she seemed to be in a hurry to leave. It was what he was supposed to want, so why did it make him so uncomfortable? He hadn’t wanted for her to be upset. Just... to keep her distance. She had these baby eyes and soft cheeks that looked sad and he wanted to give her a reassuring smile but he was trying to remind himself that there was potential danger here. Most likely she was a wannabe actress. Testing it out on him. Made sense. 

“Okay.” He nodded, standing up. When he did so, he realized he was quite a lot taller than her. Usually, he had models who matched his height. But she was smaller. Cute. He hadn’t experienced that before. Knocking that thought out of his head, he took the photo of his new coke bottle green acoustic, letting the flowers show in the back before he rested it back up against the counter. Y/N took her turn with her picture, taking a bit more time than Harry. Probably a better result too, and he wished he had patience at the moment.

A ping of sadness spread over her, she thought maybe he’d pretend to try and get to know her a bit but nope. All hope was lost then and Y/N went to take a photo of the flowers in a way that would fit her personal Instagram aesthetic. She usually posted shit like this so it wouldn’t be too out there. Once she was happy with the photo she had slipped her phone back into her pocket, looking at Harry and Jeff with a small smile. 

“Well, um, thanks for having me.” Y/N started off, pulling on her jacket. “And I’ll see you tomorrow?” She asked Harry with a small tinge of hope. He had said he would visit her bakery but she was still worried he wouldn’t show up. She felt so small. Being who she is, she went in for a hug anyway. Both figuratively and physically, Harry had intimidated her and she was weary about every move around him at the minute. Maybe she’d get used to it. “It was nice to meet you, Harry.” Y/N gave him a genuine smile, feeling even more shy now that she was so close to him. 

This would be torture.

Harry was a bit startled, but relented and hugged back. It was a bit weak, but he gently patted her back. God damn it. Why was she acting so sweet and nice and innocent? He would almost rather her be truthful about her wants of money and fame. It would be a lot more tolerable. 

“You as well.” He pulled back, face neutral. Thank god he had gotten his hard on down a decent amount. Never would he live this down. He didn’t just get hard for no reason. That girl had bamboozled him and was trying to trick him and wouldn’t let it happen. When she left, Harry continued to stare at her back before the door shut. And then he was promptly slapped upside the head by Jeff. 

“Ow! What was that for?” He hissed, rubbing the spot he had been smacked. Jeff Gave him an incredulous look, shaking his head. 

“You idiot. You’re going to scare away someone who will ultimately help your career and relationship with your friends.” Jeff scolded. “That girl is nothing but sweet. She’s doing this for you, and you know why. She’s a kind person and you better not make her run on us early. Do you want the press to get wind of it? She could talk, if you really treat her poorly. Looked like a damn kicked puppy when you wouldn’t talk to her.” He got his dad face on, crossing his arms. 

“You’re going to have to suck it up. Regardless if you actually like her or not, you’ve got to be decent to her. She’s stuck with you for a year.” Harry was irritated with that. Stuck with him? Although... maybe he was accurate with that.

Y/N tried her best to keep her tears at bay, putting on some music that would keep her energy up until she was in the comfort of her own home. She had been as discreet as possible leaving Harry’s secret London home. To the public, he lived somewhere in Hampstead which was actually closer to where Y/N lived in Camden.

After about an hour on public transportation, Y/N had finally made it back to her cozy flat. Tears immediately began to form as she unlocked the door, sniffling as she took off her coat and threw it to the ground with an absent mind. She ran to her room, storming to the bathroom to grab a roll of toilet paper. She needed to be prepared. How could someone she looked up to so much been such a dick to her? She could understand he didn’t trust strangers, but he truly made her feel like she wasn’t even worth basic human respect. Y/N was trying to be as kind as possible to him despite him being such an asshole to her and even still, he gave her a weak hug and response. As if she was a chore. It made her feel sick to her stomach. So she cried for a while, showered, got cozy in bed and went to sleep. She had early mornings at the bakery seeing as everything was freshly baked. So she was up at 3:30 every morning to make sure she was ready for their opening at 7.

----

‘Hello. I am coming in at 9:30. H.’

Harry looked it over. It wasn’t too friendly but wasn’t too rude, right? He was overthinking. Y/N had made him think last night. He hoped he hadn’t hurt her too badly, because while he did see her sad eyes he thought he was making it up in his head to try and feel bad for her. Jeff has confirmed it and made that ugly feeling in his stomach crawl into his throat. He sat and thought about how to make it so they were at a distance, but she wasn’t too hurt. Every part of the scared side of him said to continue his actions, though. He wasn’t being mean. Right? ‘Wrong. You dick.’ The other side of him told him. Conflict was something he saw all too much of in his life. He knew too well about the issues at hand. But he had always taken it so he wasn’t sure how not to prepare for it. 

Pulling up to a quaint little bakery, Harry smiled to himself. It was cute. A punny name. He liked it. Somewhere he definitely could see himself going randomly if he had seen it. Parking his car across the street, he sat for a moment and gathered himself. Now to prepare for being cute to her.

Y/N would be lying if she said she didn’t smile at the text. She had always imagined getting a text from Harry and here she was getting a text from Harry. It wasn’t anything special, but it was to her despite how sad he had made her yesterday. She had dressed herself in a baby blue sweater and overalls, putting her hair up into a messy yet contained bun. All that crying yesterday made her eyes fairly puffy so she made sure to do some fresh, no makeup makeup look. She wanted to look cute if he was coming. 

“What’s gotten into you this morning?” Katya asked, seeing Y/N’s giddy mood. They were currently baking everything they’d prepped yesterday, putting out all the freshly baked breads, bagels, cinnamon rolls, and donuts. 

“Dunno, just... happy I guess.” Y/N smiled, saying it in a way that would raise questions. Perfect, get her thinking. Her excitement was genuine. He was going to come and see her and be sweet to her, it was like a whole new interaction between the two. Best part was, she could just play out everything she imagined in her head. It was a perfect set up. Jeff was so smart with getting a fan to do this.

“Hm. We’ll see. That looks like a boy smile.” Her sister really had no clue. Everyone knew she was a big fan, and would be absolutely floored when he came in. 

Harry sighed against his steering wheel, he put on his big boy pants and decided to get a move on. Today, he wore a loose white button up with a few of the buttons undone, black trousers and red boots with ‘sucker’ on the back of them. He had been sent the whole collection and did quite like it. But his pea coat was unbuttoned, car keys stuffed into the coat pocket after locking the door. The little bells chimed as he walked in, and he took a look around. It was very cute. Instagram worthy, some would say. It smelled really good too, which was a plus.

The earlier morning rush had passed, kids now at school and parents now at work. The rest of the day really consisted of prepping more goods and serving whoever came in. Y/N really liked working at the bakery, it was her safe space to be creative and feel good. She liked to spread the message of kindness she had learned from Harry into her store everyday. 

There were a few people in the bakery when he came in, sitting drinking coffee and doing work. They hadn’t really noticed who it was, and even if they knew they didn’t seem to care too much. Y/N popped her head from out the back and smiled widely when she saw him, walking over to the register so she was closer to him. 

“Good Morning, how can I help you?” She asked in a teasing tone, that giddy grin still on her face. Y/N was going to let him take the lead, letting him choose how this interaction would go but of course Y/N was going to turn up the flirt factor so that anyone surrounding them could tell there was something going on between the two of them. “You look nice.” She hummed.

“Hello, love.” Harry felt a weird gushy feeling in his stomach when she had smiled so widely at him. Fuck. Y/N looked so pretty. Hair perfectly messy, lashes long and eyes wide and glittering. Her lips had a bit of gloss or something along those lines and he wondered if it was flavored for a moment. “You do as well. Like the color.” He did, and that wasn’t even a lie. He loved the color and how it complimented her skin and hair. Made her eyes pop out. “I would really love a cup of coffee... and a hug.” 

Though she was surprised, the look didn’t stay long on her face. Instead, he was met with a gushy smile and a crinkle of her nose, “can do, yeah.” Y/N hummed as she rounded the corner to come give him a proper hug. Closing her eyes as she snuggled into his chest for that brief moment.

God. Harry was fucking himself over with this, and he didn’t even know why he suggested that but his heart twinged when she looked surprised for a moment, but beamed like a ray of sun before rounding the corner. Her apron was taken off and he decided to take the initiative and hug her. It was a friendly hug, held for a bit too long. Her body was warm, warming him from the cold he had felt outside. Her cheek pressed against his chest which had been bare since he had forgone a few buttons, and his mouth felt dry. He hadn’t had a decent hug in months by anyone but his mother. Pulling back, he brushed a tendril of hair away that had escaped. 

“I came to see if you’d be so kind and give me some pastries.” Harry spoke quietly, making the moment look private— even though he had heard the choked gasp and the whispering going on behind them— her coworkers. It was sweet really, the two of them clearly excited to see each other, but also not wanting to draw too much attention to the fact that they were like that. It was perfect acting. 

Well, she wasn’t acting. Y/N looked up at him with enamored eyes, the smile never leaving her face as he even spoke quietly to her. 

“Of course, how many are you thinking?” She asked just as quietly, biting her lip a little as she hesitated to move back behind the counter to get his coffee going. “Black coffee yeah? For here or to go?” Y/N confirmed, knowing that he didn’t take cream or sugar in his coffee from being a fan. She’d just say Jeff told her. 

Her coworkers were bewildered, Katya’s eyes nearly popping out of her socket as she watched the interaction unfold. Y/N giggled at them, shaking her head as she went to get a box for Harry’s goods. 

“What would you like? Anything you’d like, on the house.” Y/N told him, standing behind the massive glass cases full of baked goods. “Lemon bars, red velvet cupcakes, and anything else?”

“Absolutely not on the house, I’ll be paying. Nice try though, pet.” Pet was a good nickname for her. She was a responsibility— but a cute one. Even if it burned his ass to think about her like that. But right now? Y/N was plenty cute— and she acted very, very well. Harry almost believed this true excitement. Thankfully, he found that he fed off of that energy from her acting. “You already know? Impressive.” Harry looked at her with a gentle smile. “Yeah, the coffee black. Lemon bars, the cupcakes. Hm. Throw a few random cookies in there too. I’ll be going to write for a little while.” That was good to do, right! Throw in a daily activity. He felt his mind was off when he was around her. It went a little crooked, was the best way to say it. He got distracted and honestly? It was kind of infuriating. He supposed it wasn’t her fault, unless she was secretly a siren and singing a silent song. Or had a spell attracting him to her, even though he was fighting it hardcore.

“Hey.” Y/N pouted when he refused her offer, “let me do something for you.” She said firmly because she meant it. A few baked goods and some coffee cost her nothing in the long run, but she wanted to do something nice for Harry because all the fancy dinners and experiences about to come were something she’d never be able to repay him for. Y/N packed everything up in the box, even adding a cute little note that said ‘tell me which was your favourite — Y/N ❤️ xx’. She put it into a paper bag and set it on the counter next to the cup of coffee. She was actually quite excited for him to try them, she wanted his opinion and frankly she knew they were damn good. 

“Long day ahead of you then?” Y/N asked, referencing him writing. She was genuinely asking because she cared, wishing that he was comfortable enough with her that she could come and give him a cuddle when he got home. What was she thinking? This isn’t real, he’s acting. And she’s meant to be acting as well.

It did strike him off that she didn’t take the money. Or the offer of paying. Usually people say that when they want it anyways and just expect you to insist, but she really didn’t seem to care about it. Which... was suspicious. While the bakery was very cute, it definitely wasn’t high end. He could tell they needed some new chairs and definitely some updated paint but he thought it added to the charm. Maybe they truly couldn’t afford it? He was curious as to what the hell she spent the money she was going to get on. 

It was true that the bakery was a little bit worn, but with the money she’d be getting from this contract halfway through? They’d be able to afford closing for however long they needed to renovate. Y/N has even wanted to buy the space upstairs as well and host small acoustic gigs for local musicians. 

“Uh.. I mean, a little bit. I’ll be writing a bit and then going to a very boring meeting.” It was the truth. God, how was he going to be able to focus? Harry was fighting a battle internally with how it was with her, trying to read things and find warning signs but it was hard. She was scary. Not in an outright way— but the way that. If this was real! If he had just walked in and met her at the coffee shop and didn’t think this was acting? He’d give her his number. She had an amazing charm around her that he was positive she had to know about— though acted as though she didn’t. “I hate to cut it short, pet. But I’ll talk to you soon, yeah?” He took hold of her smaller hand and squeezed it, before stuffing a hundred pounds into the tip jar. He turned around before she could protest, only turning when he got to the door to shoot her a wink. And as soon as he was out the door, he heaved a heavy breath. Christ. Why?

“Aw well, text me if you get too bored.” Y/N gave him a cheeky smile, leaning on the counter a little bit so she was closer to him. “Have a good day, pet.” She teased right back, smirking as he started to walk off. He really didn’t have to put a hundred pound note in there, that was flexing a bit, but it was very nice. It would go straight towards the bakery as it normally did.

3..2..1…

“What the actual fuck was that?” Her sister came storming over with wide eyes. “Y/N— that was... he's all over your walls. He has been on them for years and now he’s callin’ you pet?” She was shrieking but for good reason. Harry bloody Styles came in and hugged and flirted with her sister, they seemed to know each other well enough. It was incredibly shocking and Y/N hadn’t said a damn word to anyone. She used to stay up to watch his tv show appearances— hell, Katya was 99% sure she still did. But now? “You guys have each other’s numbers.... Y/N, you can't be for real.” Her eyes were wide as she looked at her blushing sister. Anyone would be just as freaked out. Harry was not only a celebrity, but she had seen the times she spent hundreds on tickets and had photos of him as her lock screen— which had mysteriously disappeared.

“Yeah, yeah he is.” Y/N giggled, blushing deeply as her sister looked at her in awe. Her sister knew first hand how much Y/N loved Harry. She had watched how Harry single handedly saved her from the darkest of times, how genuinely happy he made her. Hell, she even went to a show with her once just to see what all the fuss was about. Y/N wrapped her arms around her sister in a hug, squeezing her tightly because she really appreciated how excited she was. Her poor sister was convinced it was real and Y/N couldn’t break it to her. Couldn’t tell her Harry was actually really cold to her and not anything like that. 

Truth is, Y/N had a really shitty love life. All her ‘boyfriends’ weren’t really boyfriends and Harry was sort of the one thing that kept her going. She just dreamed about what she wanted, dreamed about how Harry would treat her better in hope that one day maybe, she’d meet someone like him. 

“His manager, Jeff. He comes here a lot you know... and he um, he introduced the two of us.” Y/N explained, being her shy and coy self. It was 100% believable.

----

Harry went to the writing session and found himself writing about her eyes. Bright eyes and lush thighs and every bit of silky hair he wanted to wrap around his hand. He had very dirty thoughts about this girl and it translated in to paper. 

Harry had to go home and jerk off. And it was embarrassingly quick. He thought about how her sweater had dipped down and he’d seen the swell of her breasts, imagining taking her back behind that counter and fucking her sweet cherry mouth and watching his cum drip from her lips down to her tits. Knowing that in his fantasy world, she’d be walking around with his cum on her— and that was quickly done. 

The guilt he felt after though? It was annoying. He was so cold to her but wanted to fuck her raw. So in that guilt, he went up to the kitchen and tasted a lemon square— nearly fucking moaned. It was so good. He knew it was part of the whole thing to go there, but he wouldn’t be complaining because if he got those every time? He would be set. 

‘Lemon square is good. Thanks. H.’ 

It was dry but also a compliment, so he didn’t feel so bad for using her face in his dirty mind.

Y/N was about half way done with her day when she got that text from Harry, smiling a bit because he actually decided to text her. Sure she left a note, but he didn’t have to text. That was a private thing that they did after all. 

‘glad you liked them 🍋’ 

She wondered why on earth she felt so fucking happy. He had just popped in for a brief interaction but it made her whole day fly by. Before she knew it she was closing down the store, locking up to head home. “You going to see your man tonight?” Katya asked curiously and Y/N blushed. 

“No, unfortunately. But we’re going for dinner next week with his manager and his wife.” Y/N told her, knowing stuff like that she could tell her. “Might hang out tomorrow though cause it’s my day off, but he’s a busy man so I’m not sure yet.” Even hearing herself speak about Harry like this was so strange, but she’d get used to it for sure.

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

[part 2]

A/N: Harry :( why he have to be like that?? better hold on tight for this one - n+d

let us know what you think!

masterlist

[dorki-c]

Stolen Cornflakes

Characters: Fem! Reader & Class 1-A

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya X reader (but doesn’t have much effect on the story)

Tw: Tad bit of swearing but other than that, its a silly fic <3

A/n: As much as I adore Izubby, I just needed an excuse to write a small fluff bit of him and reader in a crack fic.

The bleary light of a diffused grey and blue sky didn’t dust through the cartoonish styled curtains casting a stale shadow across the rows of squeaky-clean figurines and the snoozing couple underneath the customized hero blanket.

Seconds languidly turned to minutes, before a weird bizzt sound erupted from an unknown source within the room and in result, two (e/c) eyes busted open like a morning flower greeting the world.

(Y/n) knew this alarm far too well.

The soft rumbling somebodies endless void of a stomach, also, knew this alarm far too well.

And to top it off, Izuku hated this alarm.

“Izu…” Arms of the person behind her made their claim when squeezing ever so tightly around the female’s waist. Wiggling against the human cage, low grumbles where a shoved in fluff pile of green strands plopped onto the warm area of a shoulder.

She isn’t letting Izuku hold her back from breakfast.

“Izuku.”

Grabbing the cusp of the cage, nimble fingers attempted to pull apart the scarred digits locked together, however (y/n) underestimated the power behind them.

“No.”

Pulling their bodies even closer, (y/n)’s shoulder blades attempted to push or deter the progress of Izuku winning this morning’s war.

“Yes.”

It wasn’t fair! All you wanted was a nice cup of coffee and your breakfast, but Izuku was making it impossible by being fucking adorable.

“No.”

He knew he weighed heavier than you, so it was realistically unachievable for (y/n) to squirm out of Izuku’s grasp, even if she twisted, pushed, and kicked at her lover’s legs— (y/n) knew she couldn’t win this battle with brute strength alone.

“Lemme—” Izuku knew (y/n) could sense the slow upturn of his lips, “Get—” However, he didn’t sense her arms breaking free of his cage, “My—” and gripping the headboard in such fury, “Food!” that once her head was lifted from the plush pillow, the female twisted her wrists and hips to the left side of the bed that it threw Izuku off guard—causing his makeshift arm prison to be shook off- and allowed (y/n) to sloppily exit the bed.

Nonetheless, when brute strength didn’t win, it was only the matter of making his girlfriend give into the temptation of his puppy dog eyes, pouty lips, and the irresistible whine of her name, that always lured the female back into his arms.

(That has a 95% efficiency of working, and it seems that today would be the remaining 5% of not working.)

“(Y/n), please…” As the male watched the female put on her exercising clothes, he knows its too late to stop her now, so all he’s able to do is groan “It’s like you’re cheating on me with your cornflakes…” where in response; there’s a pause, then an amused snort of “Honey, you cheat on me with the infirmary beds— So, don’t go there.” Before a small smooch of love was placed on his cheek and the only thing that he hears afterwards, is his room’s door shutting on itself.

.

.

.

It takes a few more seconds for him to fully awake to someone’s shout of “WHO THE FUCK ATE THE CORNFLAKE’S!” at the top of their lung’s, in which Izuku assumes that’s your voice, where he hears another feminine voice of “WAIT-- IS OUR CORNFLAKE’S GONE?!” Izuku could only think that could be Uraraka’s voice.

Even though the voices calmed down in volume, thanks to Iida of course, there was a high-pitched scream and another person that said something like…what was it, again?

Something like “they’ve gone feral!” before it went deathly silent.

(Has reality turned into the apocalypse?)

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

For the rest of the day, most people strayed away from (y/n) and Uraraka, mostly out of fear that since their breakfast was stolen from them- right, under their noses-, where there was a short snippet of Tokoyami informing the rest of the class that their ‘spirits’ are emitting a ‘dark aura’ which cannot be ‘tamed’, unless they were ‘cured’ with the ‘blessing’ of Kellogg Cornflakes.

Here’s basic translation of what he meant: (Y/n) and Uraraka are equipped for the hunt.

Whilst some people shrugged it off, the majority of the class see those blood thirsty eyes watching, inspecting, and psychologically analysing each and every one of their movements.

(Ah shit, class 1-A is in rigor mortis at this point.)

To say Izuku and maybe a few other people were scared, that would be an understatement in their enrolment to UA.

.

.

.

Usually (y/n) walks with Izuku down to the cafeteria.

Nope, not today.

Within the peripheral range of class 1-A’s eyes, as soon as the bell rings, the two girls seemed to already reach the door before disappearing into the parade that is a high school’s hallway.

It wasn’t until Iida, Izuku, and Shoto arrived at their usual table where Uraraka, Tsuyu, and (y/n) sat, that they, too, saw what Tokoyami meant by ‘dark aura’- the usually chill, easy-going friend they had was consumed by the pit fires of hell.

(WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO HER?!?!)

“We don’t know who it is, but when we find out,” Uraraka started out the conversation with Tsuyu as (Y/n) sat in between them texting- the loud, ear wrenching pressing of multiple places on her phone (using only her nails) was heard from the opposite side of the table.

“Uraraka and Tsu, we got ‘em.”

The smile they displayed was something out of a horror movie.

“Who did you get…?” Iida was the bravest one to ask.

(May God bless him in heaven. Amen.)

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

Misty, suffocating air greeted the majority of Class 1-A where the whole common room was shed in darkest, except the lounge area- but the couches were nowhere to be seen, instead there was a large kiddie sized pool filled with cats meowing alongside Aizawa sleeping in the middle and Shinsou sitting on a chair with Tsuyu, Uraraka, and (y/n), wearing police officer uniforms with pitch black sunglasses and armed with black baton in their hands, backing him up.

(When did they get those uniforms?)

“H-hey Kirishima?”

Izuku was lost, scared, and tired. All he wanted was to cuddle with his girlfriend, but (y/n) looks like she might bury him six feet under if she doesn’t figure who ate her Kellogg Cornflakes.

“Yeah man?”

For some reason Kirishima was wearing similar sunglasses to the makeshift police of 1-A and he was sitting in the kiddie pool with cats laying on top of his thighs where he honoured a pin saying, “the feline species are superior”.

“Umm…D-do you know what’s going on?”

Kirishima paused, then raised his hand to pet a cat.

(He looks oddly at peace…)

“Shinsou is helping the girls interrogate who stole their breakfast this morning, if you answer correctly then you get to sit in this pool!”

And so Izuku did as Kirishima suggested him to do.

“You are going to be put under my quirk in order pass the test.” Said Shinsou.

Okay… that sounds awfully suspicious. But Izuku still nodded and said yes, before feeling the familiar sensation of Shinsou’s quirk wash over him.

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

“Did you eat the Kelloggs Cornflakes?”

(He’s sure he hasn’t.)

“No.” His voice was bland of emotion before breaking out of his temporary brainwash, then given a pair of black sunglasses and the same pin that Kirishima wore.

“You are free to sit in the kiddie pool if you want to. Otherwise, thank you for not being a traitor.” The girls say in unison.

(WHAT FALSE EARTH DOES HE LIVE ON?)

Though once Izuku sat down in the kiddie pool next to Kirishima, all of his fears, worries, and doubts soon vanished under the cover of the feline species (which are superior).

Something along the lines of “BATTER UP BITCHES, WE HAVE A GRAPE TO CATCH” was heard a moment later.

Screams of help? No, we don’t know her.

All we know is that you should never touch somebodies Kellogg Cornflakes.

Amen.

Taglist: 

@quietlegends, @izukubabe, @nyanyabisjjj, @glitterfreezed, @sweater-weather-seven

[theprodigypenguin]

Style #3 Half-Body Couple Illustration Commission of Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy and Albus Severus Potter from my Royalty AU fic, drawn by @kidovna​ ((Instagram)) [[PLEASE DO NOT REPOST OR REMOVE ARTIST CREDITS (UNLESS YOU’RE THE ARTIST)]]

I’d like to preface this by saying this is the first time I’ve ever gotten a commission of scorbus (since normally I’m too focused on jeddy). This time, though, I decided to branch out. I’ve been getting so into my Royalty AU that I couldn’t help it. Of course there’s also the bonus that when it’s a commission, I can request scorbus the way I imagine them. Ergo why Albus is taller than Scorpius in this piece, because I am one of like five people on Tumblr who exclusively headcanon Albus as either taller or the same height as Scorpius (truthfully I headcanon them the same height, taller than James lol, but I like him taller in the Royalty AU because it fits better and considering their individual positions it is SO MUCH CUTER).

This commission embodies part of a scene from my Jeddy Royalty fic King and Lionheart. The context of the art takes place during James’ coronation, where royalty from other countries were invited to the celebration. Albus is just a prince, hence the golden circlet he wears in comparison to Scorpius’ crown, because Scorpius is the crown prince and future king of his country (James is future king in Al’s kingdom so Al is just your everyday prince, as you can probably assume). I don’t write about their dance, but they meet during the coronation and Albus, ever the gentleman, invited Scorpius to dance. We already know these boys have big hearts and an enormous capacity to love, and basically fall in love immediately. Their love is more of a side story in the plot but I really love them in this fic so far. They are SOFT.

Returning to chirping about the art itself, I love. I wanted to get a commission from @kidovna​ ever since @regulusarchieblack​ got a commission from her of Regulus and baby Teddy which is S O F T. Also because I’m head over heels in love with her version of Albus. The fluffy hair and soft eyes with the freckles. I love. So when she opened commissions I debated if I should try my luck before sending her a request.

I did send outfit and crown references, but every artist puts their own spin on things, and I’m absolutely in love with how Bhavna interpreted the references and added them to the beautiful royal babies.

I think my favorite thing about Albus is the circlet he’s wearing, because that is definitely a detail that kidovna took artistic liberties with. Since I couldn’t find a good reference for his head piece, I just sent her a whole bunch and said go crazy with the design, and she did, and it was worth it. It’s literally perfect. Both the gold of the piece itself as well as the red jewels (rubies I’d imagine) are a perfect nod to the fact Albus lives in the country that’s basically Gryffindor, where their colors are, of course, red and gold. But the green gems (emeralds!) are key nods to the fact he may live in “Gryffindor” with a family of Gryffindors, but he is, at heart, still and always will by a Slytherin. And tbh the emeralds are probably why Scorpius is drawn to Albus (and of course because of his pretty green eyes, Scorpius probably thinks he’s so fancy and elegant). And fuck. Fuck I’m not done with Al and the fucking metaphor that kidovna smacked onto this.

Word of advice, if you commission this goddess, let her take the reigns for some of the design, cuz she’s going to kick ass. Or maybe I’m just interpreting her design choices incorrectly because I’m absolutely feral. Kidovna if I’m interpreting this wrong let me know, but this is what I’ve taken from the art.

You can almost tell that Albus chose some of the clothes he’s wearing on his own. The black dress shirt he’s wearing under his tunic and coat has green accents, but the tunic and coat are black with gold accents (more Gryffindor-y). Then you see the red ascot and gloves, and I find myself wanting to jump off a bridge, because Albus in canon isn’t the biggest fan of red, so you can just imagine he was probably told or ordered to wear red if only to honor his country. But the articles of clothing that are red are also metaphorical, because he’s wearing red GLOVES and a red ASCOT. As if his touch and voice have been muted by the expectations of his father and his country. Even though he’s not the crown prince, he’s not meant to be king, he’s still expected to express a certain image, and the gloves and ascot are a metaphorical way of controlling him and keeping him in check. Baby just wants to be free and he finds that freedom with Scorpius.

Idk if it was kidovna’s intention to have the gloves and ascot interpreted like that but that’s where I am.

I also love that Albus’ clothes are almost more constricting than Scorpius’. Cuz Scorpius is dressed in a delicately adorned green tunic with silver accents and white pants (that go up to his waist which is very, I don’t want to say sexy, but I mean, high waisted white jeans on pretty boys, come on). He looks so effortlessly regal and the crown fits him so well. Yes I asked for his hair to be a little longer on purpose, cuz it looks almost more royal? His hair is neat and probably soft as hell, styled perfectly without a strand of hair out of place (or maybe one or two falling into his eyes which Albus decides is ver cute). And I will forever defend Scorpius with brown eyes like his mother’s, which is why I requested him to have brown eyes instead of blue or gray like Draco’s (not that I don’t support pale eyes Scorpius cuz I doooo I just can’t get enough of him with brown eyes and there’s NOT ENOUGH ART OF HIM WITH BROWN EYES OK).

I think I’m done ranting now, and the point of it all is I’m in love with this art, I want it carved onto my gravestone, I’m obsessed with my Royalty AU, and I feel so lucky and honored that I was able to order this commission, because kidovna is such a sweet person, and it was so totally worth it. And I know I said the same thing when I got my commission of jeddy as royalty, but getting this commission motivates me even more to work on my fic, because I have a few specific Scorbus scenes that I do plan on writing (they’re just from someone else’s point of view, like someone witnessing them falling in love).

Thank you sooooo much for taking this commission and humoring Albus being tall and Scorpius having longer hair and brown eyes. I know it’s not what you normally draw, but I’m really in love with this piece, so thank you <3

And of course you can read the jeddy royalty fanfiction, King and Lionheart, on Ao3. It is jeddy centric, but scorbus is there too, because I love them.

[myficdump]

Love Like You: Ch.1

Here it is! The Eddsworld fic I've been writing for 3 days :D. This is a platonic soulmates fic with soul marks and so far, the main focus is on platonic yandere Tord & Edd. This is going to be a multi-chapter fic and there won't be any ships. All pairings are platonic. I've yet to decide Tord's age, but I'm thinking maybe 26? Edd, Tom, and Matt are 17. Also, I have big events planned out but everything in between is vague so ideas are appreciated.

The title is from the su song Love Like You, but it might change as I figure things out and if I find something that fits better. I hope you guys like this! <3 <3 <3

_______________________________

The three marks practically covered his entire forearm. Although they were three different flowers, they just clicked. They fit so well that unless you were close up, it looked like one soul mark. Edd liked that. It perfectly described his relationship with his three friends. Or, soon to be three friends. He had hoped he’d find the third one soon. Two of the marks belonged to Tom and Matt, who he found when he was young. He felt so complete when he brushed against them on the school’s playground. It was as if they filled a gap in his soul that he never realized he was missing.

Edd’s third mark was a mix of black and red today. It was a stark contrast from the mix of light blue and yellow of Tom’s and Matt’s marks. Hesitantly, Edd brushed his fingers against the top mark and winced. A sharp jab of dull anger and agitation welled up into his chest. Ah, something had really set off his friend today. He moved his hand lower down his forearm to trace over Tom and Matt’s soul marks instead. A wave of calm and contentedness swept the echoes of the anger away and he pulled his hoodie sleeve down.

While he liked running his hand over his marks as he did his schoolwork, he didn’t want to continuously touch his top mark if his friend was having an awful day. It would affect his own mood. He worried that if he did, then his friend would touch their own mark and then both of them would stay in a vicious cycle of intense negative emotions. It was a real concern as it’s happened a few times before.

Edd often keeps his hand pressed against his top mark, basking in his friend’s good mood. Especially when he’s had a rough day at school. Of course, his friend took notice once as they pressed their hand against their mark and their emotions intensified. Slowly, his mood lifted and when he concentrated enough, he was able to send a “Hi!” with as much warmth as he could. No matter what soul mark a person had, they were always able to talk to their soulmate if both of them were touching the mark at the same time and concentrated hard enough. He didn’t do this much with Tom and Matt as he saw them practically every day and had their numbers, but it was rare he was able to talk to his friend.

It was also rare because his friend didn’t touch their mark at the same time as him often.

After sending his greeting, his top mark changed to a deep white mixed with dark pink. Edd had laughed seeing that. It wasn’t often his friend was surprised. And seeing the affection mixed in made warmth fill his chest.

“Hello!” His friend sent back. “You sound young.”

Edd laughed. Of all the things his friend could have said, they had to comment on his voice. His friend didn’t sound bad themselves. Their voice was deep, with an accent he couldn’t place. Still, he wasn’t going to assume their gender. Only looking out for one type of person could cause him to miss who they were.

“No! I’ll be an adult soon,” He sent back, tongue sticking out in focus. “You have a… nice voice.!”

“Thank you. Listen, I have to go now. But I'll find you. I promise.” A tinge of regret passed through him, but they sent him another wave of affection through their mark.

Quickly, before they moved their hand, Edd sent, “I can’t wait to meet you!” along with his best attempt to project his own affection and happiness to them. He didn’t know if it worked, but their emotions dulled.

In hopes that they’d be able to do that again soon, he kept his hand pressed against his mark for ten more minutes until his mom called him downstairs for dinner.

So yeah, he wasn’t going to do that right now. At least, not until he checks later if his friend’s mood changes.

If that short conversation wasn’t proof enough, his friend was definitely older than him. Perhaps not old enough to be his third grandparent, but certainly older than him. Plus, he’s had that mark on his arm since he was born. All three of his marks were platonic soul marks, which were the flower type. Most often, these signaled platonic love. Edd took that to mean that all three of his soul marks were his best friends.

Romantic soul marks were often different, but as he and neither of his friends had one, he doesn’t know much about them since he never bothered to look into it.

Half of his childhood had been spent figuring out what his and his friends' marks were. After they learned how to read, they spent at least an hour inside the library searching for flowers that matched their marks. Finding them was difficult, but they were pretty sure his top marks were Heliotropes! And according to the flower guide they found, it meant eternal love/devotion. It was sweet and had him convinced that his friend would be his best friend.

The second mark on his arm, Tom’s, were Chrysanthemums. “You’re a wonderful friend,” the book had said it meant. His third and final mark, Matt, was Lisianthus. They represent appreciation/admiration for a friend, gratefulness, and charisma.

Unlike Edd, Tom and Matt only had two flower marks. Tom’s first mark, Edd, was Asters. It had meant a form of deep emotional love and affection, along with the message of “take care of yourself for me”. It was very fitting, A Hyacinth, Matt’s mark, was Tom’s last mark. Interestingly enough, under the picture of the flower, the book just said “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” Other books just said they meant sorrow, regret, and forgiveness. Any time Edd asks about it, Tom clams up and asks him to leave it alone. Some things were just not meant to be shared.

Matt’s first mark, Edd, was Morning Glories. They meant affection and love. His second mark, Tom, was Daisy’s. While meaning loyal love and purity, there was also a deeper meaning of keeping a secret between friends. Again, there was a story there. Edd didn’t know what the secret could be, but based on his friends' reactions when he asked them, he left it alone.

Each of their marks was on their left forearms and except for Tom’s single Hyacinth, they were in bunches with multiples of the same flower.

Edd loved them, he really did. When he doubted his friendship with them, he’d look at his marks and remind himself that’s what they thought of him. It was just hard sometimes, to remember that he was loved. Sometimes he felt like an imposter, like he didn’t deserve their love. If asked why, he wouldn’t be able to put it into words. It was just how he felt at times.

Late at night when he wasn’t feeling too great, when stress just ate at him, he’d run his fingers over his arm, feeling his mark and whatever emotions his friend was feeling. He’d remind himself that if nothing else, the Heliotropes showed that his friend would always love him. Oftentimes, his friend was feeling content at night, and feeling that while stressed really helped him calm down.

Though on rare nights, his friend fed into his stress, morphing his feelings into a wave of intense anger as he rubbed his mark. He hated those nights but could never bring himself to move his hand away from his mark.

Edd sighed and put his pencil down. He didn’t feel like finishing his schoolwork anymore. Maybe Tom and Matt could come over and play games with him?

* * * * *

Meanwhile, in another country, Tord was pacing back and forth in his office. “Fucking incompetent, pieces of shit,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “They had one job! One easy, little job and still they fucked it up!”

He ran a shaky hand through his hair. As the job truly was an easy one, how this happened, Tord didn’t have a clue. All those two idiots had to do was go into the government building, collect the information from the mole he planted there, and bring it back. That was it! Tord could’ve done it himself if he wasn’t so busy. And yet, the two morons were still caught, very nearly giving away the identity of his mole.

He wished he could bring the two back and torture them for this. But alas, they were already dead. Tord couldn’t afford either of them giving up any information on his army so he had them exterminated before they could be questioned. It didn’t stop him from wanting to smash something.

A knock on his door caused Tord to pause. As he took a deep breath, he stuck two fingers into the sleeve of his left arm to briefly trace his mark. He couldn’t see the color, but a cool flow of calmness and excitement pricked his rage. It was enough to stop him from shouting.

“You may enter.”

Paul entered the room, which wasn’t a surprise. He was one of the few who weren’t scared shitless to bother him when he was in a rage.

“You’re going on a vacation.”

“Excuse me,” Tord said flatly, a scowl on his face.

Paul continued on as if he wasn’t in danger of being shot in the foot. Well, to be fair, he wasn’t. Tord would never get rid of one of the more competent people in his army and Paul fully knew it. “With all due respect, don’t even try to argue with me. I could practically hear you grinding your teeth from outside the door and you’re going to wear a hole in your carpet. At this point, if you don’t rest, you’re going to give yourself stress ulcers.”

Closing his eyes, Tord took another deep breath and counted to ten. For good measure, he shoved his fingers into his sleeve again to press against his mark. The calmness and excitement soothed his rage as he said with an even voice, “And who else agrees with you?”

“The only name I’ll give up is Pat. I’m not stupid enough to think you won’t take your anger out at anyone else. Get ready, the plane leaves tonight.”

“You really aren’t going to give me enough time to sort anything out?”

Paul shot him an annoyed look. “No, because knowing you, you’ll just get too sucked into your work and not pack. I’ll take care of anything urgent.” He saluted Tord before leaving.

Tord rubbed his temples as he muttered, “He didn’t even tell me where I was going.” He dropped into his seat and yanked his desk drawer open. Leaning back in his chair, he lit a cigar and planned countless scenarios of his “vacation”.

A small part of his mind hoped he could find the owner of his mark. They seemed so nice compared to him.

Knowledge of his leave was no doubt spreading through his base like a wildfire, so he had no doubt no one would bother him. His soul mark was safe from prying eyes, so he rolled up his sleeve and traced the outline of the Sunflowers. His face morphed from a scowl to a small smile. His beloved was still feeling calm and excited. He wondered what they were up to.

The Sunflowers lived up to their name as they truly did bring warmth to his life. They were supposed to mean adoration and loyalty. He hadn’t met them yet, but considering they were a kid, the sunflowers were fitting. It’d be even more apparent once he met them.

Tord’s smile dropped. He really wanted to find them, get to know them, and fill their bond. But what about his army? So many people wanted him dead and in no good conscience could he drag a kid into this mess. He never allowed anyone under eighteen to join and from the short talk he had with his beloved, they sounded too young to be eighteen. People could say what they wanted about him, but he refuses to have child soldiers.

If he found them, he’d have to bring them back here. Hiding them here was the only way he could keep them safe.

With that train of thought, Tord sat up. Already a plan was forming in his mind. Nothing could be concrete until he met them, but he’d have an empty room ready for him near his own. Just in case he found them on this trip. Chances were slim but he hated not being prepared.

With that in mind, he left his office to go pack. The thought of finding them made this trip a little more bearable.

[rosaliepostsstuff]

Chapter 1 - Of quidditch, detentions and birthdays

series masterlist

tag list for this series:  @weasleysbees​ all George fics: @hufflepuff5972​

if you’d like to be added, send a DM or an ask

warnings: swearing, mentions of wounds, slight mention of food, alcohol drinking

word count: 1823

a/n: hope it’s a nice opening that will keep you interested and give you the feel of the whole series;  we couldn’t have a fic taking place during ootp without a classic detention with umbridge sorry

I’d love to know what you think about it!

—————①—————

Quidditch. You were decent on a broomstick, but the catching and throwing part has never been your strong suit. The summer sun was blazing hot, not helping you focus on the game. Suddenly Ron took a shot at one of the makeshift posts, the quaffle was speeding in your direction and you panicked slightly – lost your balance on the broomstick and dangled upside down. As you grasped the stick for dear life, the ball hit you square in the forehead, knocking you out.

“Ha-ha-ha,” you mocked George who was wheezing with laughter beside you. “That was years ago. Besides, it’s called the sloth-grip roll, you’re just not on that level yet” “No-no it was brilliant – you saved the game, you just weren’t there to see it anymore,” he tried to regain his composure.

You sighed and shook your head with a small smile. He gave you a wide grin and draped his arm around your shoulder pulling you closer to his side.

You were watching the try-outs together, not really paying attention until it was Ron’s turn. In the distance, you could see Fred juggling beaters’ bats behind Angelina’s back. “D’you think he’ll get in?” you asked curiously. He shrugged and made one of his faces, so you jabbed him on the side with a finger.

“Ron’s good, isn’t he? He should get in…” you worried. “Yeah, yeah, he’s alright. You’ve seen all those other slacks, he’s got a good chance,” he reassured you.

You crossed your arms on your chest and rested your head on his side. “I hope so. It means a lot to him.”

 —————①—————

 “Oh but that is absolutely ridiculous!” you exasperated, “It’s fucking torture..!” you pointed at Harry’s hand.

You had been chatting with Hermione, Ron and Harry in the courtyard, late afternoon, and noticed the wound on his hand, then made them explain everything in detail. It made you furious.

“First they try to make us dumb, then re-shape us - using violence?!” you whisper-yelled, then noticed three’s terrified expressions.

“Eh hem” you heard behind your back. “Oh for fucks sake…” you mouthed silently and slouched your shoulders, sighing in defeat. “Miss Y/L/N, is it?” She knew your name well, although up until this point you tried not to step out of line, from the very first lesson with Umbridge you showed your dissatisfaction with the new regime rules. Much to Fred and George’s amusement as you usually tried to avoid conflict whenever possible.

With a stoic expression, you turned on your heel to face her. “Yes, professor?” “You have to agree this kind of language does not suit a young witch like yourself. It is in your best interest that we work on your attitude a bit as well. I’ll see you in my office after dinner, dear,” she finished with that sickening smile and walked off.

 Defeated, you approached George and Fred at the table and sat down in silence. They glanced at you curiously. “Why the long face, sweet cheeks?” Fred asked, making you snicker and a small smile broke out on your face. “I-“ you elongated, “had an encounter with Umbridge.” “Oof..” grimaced George. “Yikes, you looked like you were about to maul her last class. Too bad I wasn’t there to see it this time around, what’d you do?” Fred propped his chin on his palm, abandoning the food. “She appeared behind my back in the middle of my tirade about her,” another set of oofs and acknowledging nods, “a strong-worded one…” “Oh this is brilliant, why weren’t we there…” Fred expressed with amusement.

George found the situation quite funny as well but was less expressive about it because he felt bad for you just a bit more than his twin. “I-I... I’m sure you can imagine,” you tried to drop the topic, getting busy with the plate in front of you. They didn’t know about her method of discipline and you weren’t keen on letting them know. “Tsk- whatever, don’t tell your best friends,” he pouted, then brought the conversation to their newest developments with the Skiving Snackboxes.

 ‘I will respect my superiors’ was written out underneath a bandage on your left hand. You’ve been successfully hiding it for almost a week, telling George you cut yourself during potions.

You felt a sharp pain and winced as he grabbed your hand to speed you up on your way to hang out by the lake. “Oh, sorry, Cherry!” he apologized immediately and stroked your hand delicately with concern, “I forgot…” You smiled at him reassuringly, “It’s alright.” “Does it still hurt so much..?” he frowned slightly, confused, “It should’ve started healing by now…”

It would’ve if you hadn’t spent every evening in the toad’s office.

You shrugged dismissively and started walking again, George following. “I don’t think that’s good, Y/N. Maybe you should go to Pomfrey..?” “Noo, it’s fine, I’m sure it’ll heal in no time,” – just a couple more days of detention, you thought. “Well, let me see it, at least,” he said softly and you felt faint. Not only would he find out about the black quill and freak out, but you also hid it from him, deliberately, lied even.

“Y/N” he repeated in a more serious tone. “George, it’s fine, really” you still tried to shrug it off, knowing well it was a lost cause. He sensed something was off. He stopped walking, expecting you to do the same. When you looked at him, he reached out his hand for you to show him the bandage and you obliged.

You held your breath as he unwrapped the dressing. You only dared to look up at him after a few long seconds of silence.

His eyes were still trained on the words, jaw clenched and he started caressing the skin around the wound with his thumb.

He then looked at you and you spoke without words.

You were sorry for not telling him.

He was disappointed but concerned about you.

You wanted to reassure him you were holding up okay.

And he was furious with Umbridge.

“Ferula,” he cast and put his wand away as your hand got wrapped up in clean bandages.

“Please, don’t do anything stupid now…” you worried, “I don’t need revenge.” He smirked a bit, but remained rather serious, “You’ve known me for too long…”

He let go of your hand and resumed walking, putting his hands in his pockets. “I mean it, Georgie. It will have changed nothing and it’s no good if she just makes you write those stupid lines too.” You sighed, “Promise me you’ll be more careful around her. And Fred too.” “Brave of you to assume I can control him,” he snickered, making you smile. “but I can try if that’ll make you happy.” “Thank you,” you said with a big grin, wrapping your arm around his. “Speeaaking of making you happy,” he paused for emphasis, looking up into the sky, “your birthday’s coming up. You didn’t make any plans, did you?” “Mmm, depends what you’re offering.”

 —————①—————

 Your birthday was in the middle of the week this year, so you planned to have a proper party over the weekend. And the evening of the actual birthday, George booked for himself.

It was late, you took a shower and as per instructions – changed into comfy PJs. Excited, you walked down the steps and into the common room.

There were only a few last stragglers left in there, buried in rolls of parchment, probably writing last-minute essays.

No George in sight.

Next to the couch in front of the fire, you saw blankets and pillows spread out, and some snacks on the coffee table. Walking up closer you noticed a little note in George’s hand-writing:

Do not touch or you’ll regret it

You chuckled under your breath and the round door opened, revealing George with two mugs in hands. He was also wearing some pyjama pants and a comfy jumper.

“Heeey!” he greeted with a wide grin. “Good evening” you replied with a smile and a little nod. “That all you?” you gestured at the table as he set down the mugs. “Unless you want to count Fred’s snickering as help,” he complained sitting down and you did the same.

“Oooh, hot chocolate..!” you exclaimed leaning over the mug in front of you.

George reached behind him and revealed a bottle of firewhisky and you chuckled. “For a bit of kick.” He opened the bottle, then hovered it over your mug and glanced at you, asking for permission and you nodded.

He poured a little bit into both mugs.

“Happy seventeen!” he toasted and you clinked delicately, not to spill the hot liquid, then gave it a taste, letting its warmth pour through your bodies.

“How was your day, Cherry?” he asked, getting comfy on the pillows and wrapping both his hands around the warm mug.

You didn’t see him much that day, with the exception of meals, as you took many more N.E.W.T. classes than him.

“Alright. Went by quickly. Snape wished me a happy birthday.” “Oooh” “Yeah, I don’t know if he was being sarcastic or not. Knowing him, he could be, even with birthday wishes… how about you?” you took another sip of the hot chocolate. “Mmm... We might be getting closer to figuring out how to stop the nosebleeds,” he opened a box of biscuits, “but we need to read up on it a bit more before testing it.”

 “That’s not the end of my surprises,” he said after you finished the conversation about nosebleed nougats, standing up for a moment to retrieve a small packaging he then presented to you with a giddy smile. You placed it in your lap and let your hands ghost over the ribbon, “I was about to say you didn’t have to, but then I remembered you’re a rich business owner now.” you teased him, earning a small laugh. He bit his lip and waited for you to continue.

It was a book, the newest tome of a series you and George would geek out about together. It had just come out.

Screeching out of joy you tackled him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You managed to get it already?!” you questioned. “Yup. Blood, sweat and tears it cost me, but I’ve got it,” he said proudly. “Thank you, Georgie” you gave him one last squeeze and pulled away to admire the book once more. “You’re welcome, love. D’you wanna start reading it tonight?” he asked with clear excitement in his voice. You nodded and opened the book on the first page right away.

You stayed up late that night, taking turns in reading out loud for as long as you were able to fight off the tiredness. Eventually, it was just the two of you, immersed in your favourite fantasy adventure, the soft crackling of the fire serving as a background.

You couldn’t have asked for a better seventeenth birthday.