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red-riding-wood · 1 year

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Heroes - Chapter 8

Chpt. 1 , Masterlist , Chpt. 9

Pairing: Sgt. Elias Grodin x Female OC (Alexis Ryder)

Fandoms: Platoon (1986), Cherry (2021)

WARNINGS: I'm just going to put down a blanket for the entire book/all chapters: graphic depictions of violence and gore, torture, explicit sexual content, attempted sexual assault, language, marijuana use

The adrenaline was still tapering from my bloodstream when the supply chopper landed and I was tasked with handing out empty letters to the soldiers – those who had survived, anyway.

Our platoon had launched our ambush on the Taliban village this morning, seizing it and its hostages. Most were Afghan, though a couple Americans had been flown back on one of the medevac choppers.

We were instructed to stay here for a few days to a week, to maintain our presence and convert the village into a U.S. camp, which meant that we needed more ammunition, medicine, and rations. Someone in authority had provided paper and envelopes for us to write home to our families in case we wouldn’t be able to call back at base anytime soon.

New soldiers would arrive in a couple of days. Slowly, and yet all too quickly, the faces of my platoon were becoming strangers; fresh faces filled the roles of the dead as if replacing the rusted cogs in a machine. It was both a relief and a tragedy when I locked gazes with someone familiar, knowing that they were still here, and knowing that they might not be the next day.

Barnes and O’Neill’s squads had been clearing out the rest of the camp for any Afghans that had hidden; we’d had to pull a few out from under the floorboards of one of the huts, and I’d watched Barnes throw a frag into a hole that still had a screaming child in it. Lerner had tagged along with us, to translate, and I could tell from the grim, about-to-hurl look on his face when he was dismissed that he hadn’t yet witnessed the complete horrors and moral ambiguity of the Two Bravo sergeant’s commands.

When I handed him his letter, I told him that if he wanted to keep his job, that he shouldn’t write about anything he’d witnessed today.

Though he hadn’t been on clearing-duty, psychologically-speaking, Cherry was probably in the worst shape. The whites of his eyes were glazed red, still watery with tears – they’d been like that since the firefight. Crawford had been one of the unlucky casualties this morning, and the friend he’d made in his squad couldn’t seem to shake his death. Taylor and I had been the ones to drag him off of Crawford’s corpse, his entire body shaking as he tried desperately to resuscitate him.

“I’m supposed to hand out letters,” I told him as I approached. He was sitting cross-legged on the ground, staring blankly at the dirt. Dark, glossy eyes that had shone so brightly with mirth in the Underworld were now as hollow as the sky. Gone was the man who’d slung his arm over my shoulder and danced to CCR and laughed at the stories of his fellow soldiers; I almost felt as if I didn’t recognize him, as if he were one of the replacements, or perhaps a ghost of the Cherry who had really died in our last battle and was now haunting the village with his blank stare and the sullen slouch of his shoulders.

Cherry didn’t answer me, his gaze still fixed somewhere on the dirt, but he swallowed, which was enough of a sign that he’d heard me, at least, so I handed him a letter.

“No,” he spoke, swallowing again against the broken fragments of his voice and shoving the envelope away.

“You don’t want to write to Emily?” I asked. She was one of the things that Cherry hadn’t been able to stop talking about during basic, and there had been more than one occasion when I’d given up my phone time so that he could spend more time talking to her, since I didn’t have anyone to call, myself, and since he’d gotten in trouble the first time he hadn’t hung up the phone when he should’ve. He was crazy about this “Emily”, the girl he had waiting for him at home.

Cherry shook his head, gaze flitting down to his boots. “I’ll call her back at base,” he said. But he spoke it as if it were an afterthought, each syllable as hollow as his eyes. I knew that his thoughts were elsewhere.

I knelt down next to him, hugging the stack of envelopes to my lap. “You know, there was nothing you could have done to save him, Cherry,” I spoke hesitantly, but as soothing as I could to my friend.

Finally, his gaze met mine, though it drilled a hole through my heart. He blinked, some of the moisture of his reddened eyes collecting into a tear that suspended itself in limbo beneath an eyelash. For several moments, we sat like this, as he held my gaze, and then he looked back to the earth and said absently, “I know.”

He didn’t believe me, and he was telling me this only because he didn’t want to be convinced he was wrong. He would likely think for the rest of his days if things would have been different if he’d gotten to Crawford a little sooner, if he’d cinched his bandages tighter or if he’d administered more morphine.

I didn’t know what to say – what could I have said? – and carried on to the next soldier with a certain heaviness to each step that I hadn’t possessed before.

Taylor was tying his combat knife to the barrel of his rifle with a piece of twine from one of the huts, wrapping the fabric several times around the now-bayonetted weapon. I wondered if it was because he’d watched Crawford die from a similar invention.

“Mail’s in,” I said, and handed him one of the envelopes. “Do you want extra pages, for your manuscript?”

Taylor’s hands stilled on his rifle, and his eyes darted to the envelope, but he didn’t reach for it. “Nah, it’s okay,” he said, and went back to fastening the bayonet. “I don’t know who would wanna write about this place.”

I frowned, and settled the envelope back on the stack. Ever since he’d arrived at basic, Taylor had been writing letters to his grandmother, with the hopes of someday turning the pages into a novel that documented his experiences in the war. He’d been pretty consistent with it, always writing away in his spare time. For him to pass up the opportunity was unusual. Though I understood not wanting to write any more about Afghanistan, I didn’t understand why he wouldn’t want to give his grandmother the peace of mind that he’d made it another week.

“You’re not even gonna write to your grandma?” I asked, and took a seat beside him on the log pile underneath one of the poplars that he’d made a small haven.

Taylor shrugged. “Don’t know who would wanna read about this place, either.”

My heart sank a little bit. I was no literary genius, but if I had someone to write to, I’d be writing every day, even if it was just about how much I missed them.

But he seemed disinterested enough that I didn’t argue with him, and I could feel stares on me; I was meant to be carrying out my mail-duty a lot swifter than I was.

“That reminds me,” I said, and dug into the duffel that contained letters and "care packages" for the soldiers. “Something came in for you.”

I handed him the small parcel, and his hands stilled on his rifle again. He took it in his hands and went to set it to the side, but I raised my brows at him, and he gave me a confused look.

“Are you gonna open it?” I urged. I didn’t want him sitting here all day stewing in whatever thoughts were plaguing him, mindlessly wrapping that twine around the barrel of his gun over and over and over.

He gave me a bit of an uncertain look, and tore at the outer plastic of the package, revealing a vintage copy of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

“You can read it,” he said, and handed it back to me. “I got in shit for humpin’ too much stuff on my first day. Had to send back a bunch of my grandma’s books.”

I took the book in my hands, which was only maybe a half-inch in width, and said, “Taylor, this barely weighs anything.”

Taylor bit his lip, and fumbled with the knot of the twine, before deciding to loop the ends beneath the material a few more times. “I don’t really feel like reading,” he said, and I nodded, though my actions were separate from my thoughts. It seemed that it wasn’t just Cherry who’d taken a serious hit to his morale today. And now that I looked out over the village, I noticed that many of the soldiers were hanging their heads and busying themselves absently with cleaning their rifles or opening mail.

“You should, though,” he said, still fixated on his little project. “It’s a classic.”

“Alright,” I said, reluctantly. “Tell you what, I’ll read this, if you write something. Doesn’t have to have anything to do with this place. Doesn’t even need to be addressed to anyone. Just… something.”

Taylor finally set his rifle aside and met my gaze for more than a few moments. “I appreciate it, Ryder, but I don’t need the therapy.”

“It’s not therapy. It’s accountability.”

“Yeah, right.”

A light sigh escaped my diaphragm, and I looked across the clearing of the village as King shouted some string of obscenities at me, of which I was only able to decipher half of.

“I think that means I have to go,” I said. “Look… just… think about it, alright?” I set a few of the envelopes down on the log beside me before I took my leave.

King was as chipper as ever, impervious to this morning’s grueling battle. “You fuck the sergeant yet?” he asked me as I handed him his mail – an envelope, which contained a letter and some nude photographs of a lover that he had no issue with ogling in front of me.

I nearly choked on my own spit, and I glanced around, but thankfully, I didn’t think that anyone had heard.

“It’s been a day,” I said to him.

“That don’t sound like a ‘no’.”

“Is fucking all you ever talk about?”

“I’ll have you know I’m a man of variety, little lady. I also don’t mind a lil’ bit o’ rimmin’ action, and I’ll tell ya what, the things a woman can do with her feet – “

“Please stop talking.”

King flashed me a toothy grin, and I felt my mood lighten, if only slightly. “I really do look forward to our talks, King,” I said, as I turned to start towards one of the other men, my steps not feeling quite as heavy as they had a minute prior.

“So that’s a ‘yes’ on you fuckin’ Elias, then?”

I stilled, and turned my head, and though I should have felt more anxious than anything, I was focused more on the blush that rose to my cheeks. I continued on my way, sucking a breath in through my nose and channeling it from my pursed lips. From behind me, the last I heard of King was him shout,

“Hey, Manny! You owe me ten bucks, man!”

After finally making my way through the camp, Wolfe was next to last; he sat on one of the ammo crates near the LZ, working on packing mags. He accepted one of the envelopes with a gentle smile and asked if he could have another.

I took a glance at the stack in my hands, which had seemed to get no smaller, and then another out at the soldiers that I had already delivered to.

“Yeah, there’s plenty to go around,” I said, and sifted off a few from the stack. “Who are you writing to?”

Normally, I wouldn’t have been caught dead talking with the lieutenant of the platoon, but last night had broken a barrier I’d spent so long forging; a piece of my cowardice had chipped away, and a part of my soul felt just a little more free – free, like Elias, who wore his heart on his sleeve; free, like a deer, bounding through a meadow; free like that eagle, soaring over the jagged peaks and the love and the hate. Perhaps the freedom I had found was courage.

Surprise registered on Wolfe’s face, but he replied affably, “My parents, and a girlfriend back home.”

I nodded, the faintest of bittersweet smiles crossing my lips. I thought of him returning to his family when this was all over and hugging and smiling, laughing over a dinner table. And though it tugged cruelly at my heart, I could not help but feel the slightest bit of contentment that at least one soldier would be making use of these letters.

I didn’t get to dwell on this thought for long, however; Elias, who’d been nowhere to be seen during the supply drop, had appeared, having walked from the huts. He was standing with Lerner, who was chatting his ear off about something, but his attention wasn’t on the translator; it was on Wolfe and I.

I noticed the way his eyes seemed to trace over the letters in our hands, the way the mirth disappeared from those pretty blues and his shoulders sunk a bit, like Cherry’s had. He turned to Lerner to utter something briefly, and then he was off, back in the direction of the huts.

“Ryder?” Wolfe’s voice snapped my attention back to the lieutenant, but I was no longer present; I turned back to him with a furrowed brow and a distant stare.

“Here,” I said, sifting one of the letters off and leaving the rest of the stack beside him on the chopper gate, alongside the emptied duffel that had contained the packages from home. “I only have one more delivery to make.”

Wolfe didn’t protest when I left, hurrying through the clearing, past Lerner, through the door of one of the wooden huts, letter in my hand.

The floorboards creaked beneath my boots as I entered the ingress that Elias had disappeared through, and immediately, I recalled the women and children that had been herded out like lame sheep. But I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind, focusing instead on finding my blue-eyed soldier in the now-barren building.

Subtle, but still audible in the silence of the hut, was the groaning of fabric stretching, and as I rounded the corner, I caught sight of the swinging hammock from the Underworld. Elias’ weight had sunken into it, and he merely flopped his head to the side so blue eyes could witness my approach.

“Got mail for me, sweetheart?” he asked.

“You tell me,” I said, and handed him the envelope. “Are you gonna write?”

Elias’ eyes wandered from me, to the envelope, to the dusty floor, and he said, “Haven’t spoken to my family in over a decade. They’d be gettin’ a letter from a ghost.”

Elias had never spoken of anyone back home – I’d assumed he had no one, but from the pain in his poorly-veiled gaze, I could tell that a part of him, however buried, did want to write to someone.

“Why don’t you come up here and join me, sweetheart?” he said, his eyes now glittering with their usual playfulness. He sat up in his hammock, motioning for me to take a seat on his lap.

I smiled faintly as a heat suffused my cheeks, and I found myself tempted by the way his eyes shamelessly raked over me and a few locks of wild hair flopped over his headband at the motion.

“Fine,” I said around a broadening smile, and I clambered up onto the fabric, the ropes groaning again at the stretch of the added weight. Elias made room for me between his legs, forming a little crook by pulling his left knee up to support my back and letting the other lay flat so that I could swing my calves over it. I settled in, a contented sigh nearly escaping me from the way his body heat percolated through his fatigues. I could’ve been in the desert, and I still would’ve ached to feel it seep through my pores like honey.

My world swayed beneath me, the lines of the wooden planks and the woven straw of the walls undulating like the waves of the sea. So I let my head rest against Elias’ chest, sinking into him, my hand loosely gripping his shirt for stability. He untied my hair, letting it tumble in loose waves over my shoulders, and hot lips brushed my cranium as he blessed me with a soft kiss.

“Tell me about your family,” I said, my other hand fumbling idly with the envelope in my lap.

A sigh escaped from Elias’ lungs, disturbing the strands of hair on my skull, and bringing my torso up and down with his own.

“Is that really what you wanna talk ‘bout right now?” he murmured into my ear, voice husky and sparking something in my gut. His hand slipped from where it had threaded into my hair and down to my spine, fingers tracing it through the fabric of my shirt and travelling lower and lower and lower. His groin, where it cradled the underside of my thigh, rocked slowly upwards, his khakis stiffening beneath me.

I breathed a little moan of yearning as I felt my heartbeat drop to my lower abdomen, and I bit my lip as I pushed back from his chest to stare up into blue-black eyes.

“Yes,” I told him, my voice light and almost scarce. Though I wanted nothing more than to repeat last night, I knew that this letter business would weigh on me until he gave me a better reason for not writing.

The line of his lip twitched, and something shifted in his eyes as he stared down at me – their tragedy pained me, tightened my chest – but I continued to stare up at him expectantly, my thumb running soothingly over the bare flesh between the buttons of his shirt.

“You’re a real piece o’ work, y’know that?” he said to me, and I chuffed out a laugh.

“Yeah, I know,” I said.

Another sigh rolled from his lungs, moving my body with it, and he said, “My old man was always sayin’ I didn’t work hard enough, didn’t dream big enough. Didn’t get the right grades, or the right girls. Nothin’ was ever good enough for him. I think he was bitter, think he was tryna project onto his sons. One of them took it. I didn’t.”

Elias paused his story to root through a small pouch of woven weeds and tossed a wild strawberry onto his tongue. I could smell the sweetness as he popped it in his mouth, and I looked curiously at the pouch. So that must have been what he’d been so busy doing. Picking wild berries.

“Always knew my mom didn’t agree with what he said, but she never stepped in. Just made our dinner every night and tucked us in and wished us good luck in school. She was real sweet, y’know. Can’t say I blame her for not sayin’ nothin’. My dad was a scary guy.

“My older brother, he came home one night, drunk as a skunk. He’d lost his apartment, lost his job. Even lost his girl. My parents were out and he was lookin’ for our dad and I was the only one ‘round, so he started yellin’ at me, blamin’ me for his failed marriage and his student loans and his empty bank account.”

He chewed at another strawberry, as if they were pills to numb the memories, before continuing,

“I don’t like takin’ peoples’ shit. Especially since my dad had been tellin’ me earlier that I should be more like him, just ‘cause he was a good boy and did as he was told. So when my brother started takin’ everythin’ out on me, I told him to go to Hell.”

Elias seemed to still then, his exhale lingering beneath me.

“That was the last thing I said to him before I walked out that door and never came back. Haven’t seen or spoken to him since,” he said, a remorseful waver in his tone.

I looked up at him again, my cheek grazing the rough fabric of his shirt, but his gaze was fixed somewhere past me, blue eyes glittering with sorrow.

“What did you do after that?” I asked.

“Got a job in the oil fields,” he said. “I was young, hadn’t finished school. Just needed somethin’ to keep the rent money comin’ in.”

I nodded in understanding, and asked, “Is that why you got involved with drugs?”

Elias chuckled, and shook his head. “That was my ex-wife. She was all into psychedelics – the hard kind, mainly LSD. Blew all my money on drugs and gurus and all that shit, pinned the evidence on me.”

I’d never thought about Elias having a girl back home, or being married. I supposed it made sense; he was in his early thirties. I admonished myself for the slight twisting of jealousy in my gut, though I was more concerned in this moment how Elias must have felt, betrayed by both his family and his lover.

“So that’s why you’re here,” I breathed against his chest, and he chuckled again, notes a low rumble in his diaphragm.

“Surprised King didn’t tell ya. That’s one of his favourite stories,” he said.

“That’s an awful story,” I whispered. “I didn’t know, I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have – “

“Shhh,” he said, stroking his thumb over my hair. “Not your fault, sweetheart.” A pause, and then the wry quirk of a smile. “I think King tells it better, though.”

A slight smile graced my lips, and I sank back into his chest, running my fingers this time over the chain of his dog tags.

“You got family, sweetheart?” he asked me, and cold seemed to seize my chest.

“I used to,” I murmured, half into the fabric of his shirt, half into the stale, dusty air. “They’re not around anymore.”

“That have anythin’ to do with that Bowie song you listen to so much?”

I’d nearly forgotten how intuitive he was, even without those piercing eyes eviscerating my soul.

“I sang it to my mother…” I began, words so quiet I wondered if he could even hear them, his hand stilling where it stroked my hair. I swallowed, and continued, “…when she was dying in her hospital bed. It was her favourite song.”

“It’s a beautiful song,” he said, hot breath soothing against the top of my head, and slowly, the warmth of his body began to seep past the cold that seized me, and I relaxed.

“Elias,” I said, tilting my head back up at him as his thumb resumed its languid motion over my skull. “Do you still love your brother?”

He looked down at me, sadness darting through those pretty blues once more, and he said, “Yeah, guess I do.”

“Why don’t you write to him? Or call him?”

“Alex, I’ve been through a lot o’ shit. Run headfirst into firefights, gone head to head with Barnes, went through tunnels with IEDs. But whenever I pick up that phone, I just… I can’t do it.”

I settled my head back against his chest. A moment of silence passed between us, and in that moment, I thought of my parents, of my mother’s lips parting gently to form the lyrics to her favourite song as her heart rate slowed, and my father, wrapping an arm around me and grinning at me in my youth.

“I think you should,” I told him. “The things I wouldn’t give to hear my mother’s voice again. See my dad’s smile.” I tipped my head back again, making sure to capture his gaze in mine. “Don’t let those things slip away from you, Elias. ‘Cause when they’re gone, they’re gonna make you ache.”

Maybe I should’ve let it go, let him live his life, but yesterday, he’d taught me something I wouldn’t have been able to realize myself, had released me from a demon I had forged. It was my turn to impart some of my own wisdom, the words I’d wanted to say to Cherry, to Taylor, to every soldier out there who’d turned their noses up at the envelopes I handed out.

I remembered the paper now, and pressed it to his chest where my head had been.

Slowly, a lazy grin spread across his lips, and Elias gently pushed the envelope away. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart,” he said, his eyes glittering again with affection rather than regret. “I got all I need right here.”

My heart swelled with warmth, and my mouth quirked again into a smile. Though part of me thought that he was just saying that to distract me from the unpleasant subject, another part of me – the part of me that ached for family, for a bond – eagerly accepted his words, let them sink in and spread along every nerve of my body, making my skin fuzzy and my gut all giddy with electricity.

And I decided that in that moment, I didn’t need to hear my mother’s voice, or see my father’s smile. All I needed was Elias. Maybe it wouldn’t last – though I wanted it to –, but it would be enough to get me through.

I tucked the envelope away into the hem of my khakis, and smiled back at him as I watched him catch another strawberry between his teeth, tipping his head back to let it land on his tongue.

“Can I have one?” I asked, licking my lips. The MRE I’d had earlier was still settling in my stomach, though I reckoned that the dry bread and cold beef stew wouldn’t even compare to just one of those little red delicacies.

Elias smirked at me, and plopped one of the berries on his tongue, sticking it from between his teeth invitingly.

My gaze darted from his mischievous gaze to the strawberry on his tongue, and my gut stirred with a different sort of hunger. I giggled and leaned in to capture the strawberry in my teeth, the seeds gritting against my molars but the tart yet sweet flavour exploding across my tongue.

I’d barely swallowed the sugary syrup of the berry when Elias pressed his hot lips to mine, and tugged me closer to the warmth of his body, my thighs to the hardness that had redeveloped in his trousers. His tongue still tasted potently of the berries, and his lips were slightly slick from their juices, but every bit as heavenly as they’d been last night.

I swung my right leg around his waist so that I was straddling him, pressing my own pounding arousal against his now, grinding the coiled heat into him eagerly. We went to work swiftly on unbuttoning each other’s shirts; he had less to accomplish, since I’d never replaced the one Bunny had torn from my collar, and soon enough, I was baring my flesh to him.

He sank back into the hammock, our kiss breaking so that I could kick off my trousers and undo his belt. Beginning to tug down his khakis, I positioned myself up on my knees, but they wobbled beneath me from the sway of the hammock, and I caught myself from collapsing by letting a hand fall to his chest and my spine to curl over above him. I laughed against the bare of his chest, and his own grin mirrored mine, mirth in his eyes. His member was pressing against my stomach now, and as the laughter ceased, I caught my lip in my teeth, a devilish idea forming in my mind.

I watched as his face fell slack from sharp cheekbones and those blue eyes darken with lust as I sidled down, panting my breaths against his navel and inhaling the scent that was of both him and the wilds, my lips brushing the mound of dark hair that crowned his length.

I panted out one last breath against his flesh before letting my tongue run along his length, and he immediately bucked his hips, a moan stirring from him as his hands sought my hair, fingertips just barely managing to hook a few of the strands.

It did cross my mind that Barnes, or Bunny, or anyone could’ve walked through that door in that moment, but I didn’t care anymore. I needed this, in this place that only brought sorrow and guilt, needed to indulge myself in this thing that made me human in this place that made me a monster. And I could tell that Elias needed it, too, from the way that he clawed desperately at my hair and writhed his hips beneath me and bit his tongue to hold back a moan every time I licked or kissed at him.

“Quit bein’ such a goddamn tease, sweetheart,” Elias rasped between heavy breaths. It was oddly reminiscent of when he’d kissed at my thighs last night and I’d told him to fuck me, and I grinned as I felt him twitch beneath my lips, my tongue darting against his sensitive flesh almost wickedly.

His hips bucked again, and I ground the sopping mess that was my panties against the fabric of his leg, seeking my own satisfaction to the burning desire in my groin. A pleasured breath passed from my lips, and I drew my tongue along his length one last time to savour the taste of him before attempting once again to steady myself on my knees.

He nudged my panties aside, a shiver dancing across my flesh as his finger brushed a bundle of nerves, and I lowered myself onto him. I clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle the gasp that poured fast from my lungs as he filled me, stretching walls that still seemed to ache from last night.

It took me a minute, but eventually I got into a rhythm, and the spring of the hammock helped rock my hips up and down, a strangled moan parting from my lips every time the bare flesh of my thighs met his. I tried to keep as quiet as I could, in case anyone outside heard, but I only devoted a small portion of my efforts towards the discreetness, for I was far too enraptured by the movement of my hips, the pleasure that ran from my core all the way to the top of my head, the man who still moaned and squirmed under me as his hands grasped at my waist and his length shuddered inside of me.

His fingers curled firmly into my hipbones as he kept my thighs pinned to him, his hips bucking madly upwards as he spent himself inside of me, and I shivered around him, my head feeling light and my core flooding with the warmth that I craved.

I stayed like this for several moments, head swung back, hair teasing the line of my nude back, riding out the beginnings of my own high, walls tightening around him and my sweat-slicked thighs still trembling on top of him.

When euphoria finally claimed me, I drew myself from him and collapsed on his chest, honey-blonde hair pooling across his neck and shoulders and my fervent breaths panted across the musky sweat of his collarbone.

Elias’ thumb stroked the back of my head again, sending tingles through my overly-sensitive nerves, and with his other hand, he entwined his fingers through my own. And he murmured against me, “See, told ya I got all I need right here, sweetheart.”

#fanfiction #elias grodin #platoon #platoon 1986 #my writing #heroes #oc: alexis #sgt. elias #mdni #there's smut in this story I'm just not saying where because spoilers but you've been warned #writing

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senselessconjuration · 1 year

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I just reblogged a post about DS9 that got me thinking about the little bubble of anxiety about genetic engineering that happened in the late 90s.

It was like: we’d seen how fast computers advanced. We were seeing the growth of the Internet and how quickly it changed Everything. And then a sheep got cloned and a lot of people were saying this is it, this is the next thing. We’ve unlocked a new technology and it’s going to speed up exponentially like technology keeps doing And we’re all going to be genetically engineering perfect test tube babies and creating a new underclass of the genetically imperfect.

Remembering it I’m like lol sci fi Really oversold the danger of clones, what we should have been anxious about was climate change or the erosion of privacy and advances in surveillance technology.

But as a teen in the late 90s it really felt like we had climate change beat, because we had been so aggressively sold on the idea that it was fixable through small individual action. I lived in a liberal college town so as far as I could see most people were doing the things. We were recycling. Turning the water off while brushing our teeth. Not standing in front of the fridge with the door open. Everyone I knew was doing all that stuff they were told would work, so clearly we were gonna be fine. They said the holes in the ozone layer were shrinking, and I know as a kid I was not alone in assuming that they would close with in the next couple of years and then we just had to hold on a little bit longer until Solar energy was ready to go and global warming was fixed forever.

And to be fair we were also not expecting 9/11 to drastically alter what basically everyone who grew up afterwards thought of as an acceptable violation of privacy. If you don’t remember the Patriot Act being passed, you probably do not remember what it was like to have reasonable expectations about what personal information government and corporations are entitled to. The line was crossed so far and so fast that it seems inconceivable we’ll ever get back to where we were when we should’ve started freaking about about privacy and surveillance. (See also: that post about how the Must Be Stopped Evil tech of the 2000 Charlie’s Angels movie is CELL PHONE TRACKING)

It’s weird to look back on that 15yr old who figured that climate change was mostly taken care of as long as we kept recycling our cans, who was sure the Internet would be an outlaw paradise forever, who thought it not impossible they might retire to a Martian colony someday. That 15yr old who wondered if she’d be the last generation of gay people or maybe would gay parents engineer their kids to be gay? Who hoped someone maybe would invent gene therapy to cure Being Fat but knew more likely what would happen is people would engineer their children to not be fat and it would be even worse to be fat for the next 100yrs or so until all fat people are extinct.

(Lol typing that out really makes it clear that I said to myself “when they invent human fixing technology the first kinds of people they will get rid of are People Like Me.” Which is very typical teen me.)

There are plenty of things that did turn out to be just as big of a problem as I worried about back then like: soulless consumerism, gentrification, cops, school shootings, Nazis, Russia, and the decline of American theater.

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somerpmemes · 2 years

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Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts S3 Starters

Change as needed

“Told you we should’ve added pyrotechnics.”

“I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to this.”

“I thought we all agreed that idea is crazy.”

“Ah, high drama in its purest form.”

“Leave me to my research!”

“It is an established scientific fact that cats like spinny things.”

“I’m about to make like the Big Bang, expand into a high temperature state, and explode.”

“I just made everything worse, didn’t I?”

“Something tells me you’re not gonna be able to fix that tonight.”

“I don’t run away from a fight.”

“Just because it fits in your mouth doesn’t mean it’s food.”

“It would be pretty hard to be stealthy with you screaming in pain.”

“I hear you and I understand your feelings, but also, I don’t.”

“I’m so tired, I’m awake!”

“I'm gonna kick that leaf!”

“There is no milkshake frosty enough to cool my rage.”

“People tend not to forgive someone who’s tried to pour molten gold on them.”

“Am I crazy to try?”

“The smell of the sea revolts me!”

“I respect your boundaries but I’m here if you need me to trample her!”

“Despite our welcoming name, we bring the pain!”

“For the record, I don’t want to be here. “

“I want you to have a second chance.”

“Oh, calm down. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness and I don’t expect anything to change after today but… for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“I had to fall asleep every night knowing that nobody in the world was thinking about me, or even cared that I was afraid.”

“Now we have to eat on the floor.”

“My mind is a vault. And the code is in a separate vault. And they’re both inside my mind.”

“Ugh. Sounds like feelings. Why does everyone have these?”

“Woah! What a fun way to use me!”

“All we have to do is go into the no-win situation and win the situation. How hard could that be?”

“When I get afraid I think of whatever’s scaring me and make it wear a silly hat.”

“I’ve never had friends who aren’t me.”

“No! I get it, but no!”

“I don’t wanna be small!”

“He could be on top of something, underneath something, inside of something, and that something could be anything!”

“___, do you want to help us find a cat?”

“I thought this was gonna be one of those ‘we learn something new about each other every day’ moments.”

“I thought that would work, based on nothing.”

“Ow! But yay!”

“Why did we all try to get in at once!?”

“I broke the sink!”

“I’m trying to save your life here.”

“And over there is where I sleep sometimes but I’m not supposed to.”

“Yeah. I tried to kill them, but I’m reconsidering.”

“You’re working very hard, dear. But you can’t fight destiny.”

“I dunno, traps are kinda fun.”

“Strange… but interesting.”

“Oh, I’m gonna dig a hole and cover it with leaves, someone will fall into it, it’s such a trap.”

“First one through gets to be the first one through.”

“Are you sure we can trust him? Look at his hands.”

“How can we trust someone who can hurt anyone that easily?”

“Destiny is an unstoppable force.”

“You’re really bad at code names.”

“I reject that criticism but you’re entitled to your own opinion.”

“I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

“I won’t make the same mistake again.”

“I don't know circle math, whatever!”

“Don’t forget what side you’re on, ___.”

“Being trapped stinks. There’s never any snacks.”

“Why did I eat that? There was no way that was gonna be good.”

“Yeah I have no idea about cooking. I’m way better at eating.”

“This is clearly a trap.”

“Who throws a party in the middle of a war?”

“It kinda feels like we won.”

“I’m charismatic and people respect my strong jawline.”

“There’s no way someone can say no to a float.”

“I was thinking about how French fries are the perfect food.”

“Okay… possible you’re bringing out the worst in each other.”

“I tasted my lunch again, I only wanted to eat it once.”

“Silence is just possibility in disguise.”

“I usually don’t have these kinds of emotions but, uhh, feels good.”

“I want a cat best friend.”

“They’re just trying to protect you in their own way.”

“This is a big deal, you’ve got a clipboard and everything.”

“Everything they have, they took from us.”

“Let’s commemorate these with some crunches.”

“I never thought she could put together that many thoughts.”

“I’m definitely going to regret this.”

“Ugh, everything in there is so floofy.”

“I wanted power. Who doesn’t?”

“That girl would find a reason to befriend a broom.”

“Guess all we have to do now is dance.”

“No! …sorry I meant yes.”

“I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this!”

“What’s wrong with her? She just looks… scared.”

“I mean, this way it’s way better for everyone.”

“Nobody deserves to have their mind taken away from them.”

“I guess that’s as good a punishment as any.”

“Not to brag but… I totally saved you.”

“You shouldn’t have helped me… but you did.”

#starters #rp starters #sentence starters #sentence starter meme #rp #rp meme #ask meme #kipo and the age of wonderbeasts

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idk-dude-im-just-here · 2 days

Text

Well a year ago this time things started getting kinda bad. I already felt like I was walking on eggshells a little bit with him but it got like 10x worse. I did tell you a little bit about the thing with the other girl and he said he had feelings for her and thought he loved her, meanwhile he asked me to marry him 3 months earlier and told me he loved me every single day. We started fighting almost every single day and it got to the point where I dreaded getting out of bed everyday because we worked together and he would sometimes make a scene if I did something or said something that he didn’t like. And at home too I never knew what was gonna set him off… it got so bad one time that he punched a hole in the wooden bedroom door right beside my head. And he told me after it was either that or hit me. And i know it sounds so stupid of me, but I still didn’t leave. I still believed that he was a good person because when things were good they were so so good. But when things were bad, that’s something I never want to experience ever again. And they started getting worse the more I brought Vanessa around. But having a third person around was kind of a nice buffer because we wouldn’t fight while she was there. But then he told me about his feelings for her and I don’t hardly even remember that day I think I just kinda shut down. I did something I’m not proud of though and I begged him to go to therapy. Because maybe this sounds selfish and stupid but to me I had invested so much time and effort and money just to BE there. This place wasn’t my home, and if it was all going south I was gonna at least do my best to fix it. And I guess I expected or hoped he realized that for me and that part of him cared enough to do that for me. So he finally agreed and we went together once a week for a bit. Things started to get better. We stopped seeing Vanessa even though we worked together and in therapy we came to an agreement well actually the therapist suggested this, but that he cut all ties outside of work with this girl, no social media, no texting no nothing and he agreed. He went so far as to tell me he blocked her number. She was still my friend and up to that point someone that I trusted, and I remember one afternoon her and I went on lunch together from work and we sat in her driveway and she held me while I bawled my eyes out and told her some of the stuff that I was going through. That was the first and the last time I ever told anyone about my relationship issues and I’m never doing that again either. And I’ll get to that later.

Out of the blue like a month later he tells me he doesn’t love me anymore and that he can’t do this. He doesn’t want to be with me he wants to be alone to work on his issues (because our therapist basically told him he’s a narcissist and he needs to get over himself). Even though I was fully in support of and prepared to be there the whole time, I still believed that things could have a different outcome and we could get past it. There were a lot of things with myself that I needed to change and work on I wasn’t perfect by any means either. It does take 2 people to fight and argue. But then that changes again to him saying “I do love you” and “let’s take a break for an undefined period of time but we’re still ‘together’” and I was such an emotional wreck that I just went with it. And I should’ve had him move out of the apartment, because I could’ve kept it without him paying half the rent and utilities. I had a pretty good job I even got promoted like 3 months earlier to production supervisor and that came with a nice raise. But in all honesty there was and is nothing left for me there and I didn’t want to be in Alberta anymore I had enough. So he kept the place and I basically got told I had to leave…

Back to Vanessa, a week before I came back home he’s showing me something on his phone and guess whose name pops up on his phone and he panicked and swipes it away real quick. I said you told me you blocked her, and of your own free will because I never even asked for that. What happened. And I get “oh she’s just a friend, she’s easy to talk to, I don’t know” and I said well I think you already know I’m not comfortable with this given the situation and the trust I have for you has already worn very thin up to this point.

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reflectionsyouwillneversee · 1 year

Text

Isolation

There is so much on my mind. I feel like it is ripping me apart, but if I was to let it all come out, you would fade away. Feel’s like every hole I dig, and I dig many of them, keep getting deeper. I try to hide from my mind, but like my shadow, it always follows me, That is why I like the darkness because there is no shadow demons following me everywhere that I go. I wish i could feel free like you. I want to dance to your heartbeat again, act as if I was in another life far away from all of my troubles and all of my pain. you ask why I didn’t leave five years ago? It is because I believed in fighting for what I wanted to keep, I made a promise to you that no matter what I would be here and wanted to spend my whole life with you. maybe something is wrong with me. maybe I was just meant to sit and wait on an angel to bring me freedom. but I swear that Angel was I you, I felt it deep in my bones, which is why I thought you were my soulmate. The day we met face to face for the first time I saw the sadness and pain in your eyes, it seems so similar to mine, I thought maybe just maybe you would be the one who would always make me happy and smile even in this bitter world, that you could provide me with a safe space away from the all the pain others have caused me and I have caused to myself from all my self doubt I have felt in the past, and I believed your promises that you would always love me, and would protect me from even myself. I wish I could just not feel a thing, i welcome numbness with arms wide open. I feel like I don’t even exist. I don’t want to die alone, not like this. It is like I can feel something inside of my core draining me dry. my hands shake with such a deadly silence. All I ever wanted was your touch to guide me home which is where my heart and yours once were. I always needed your voice to fight off the silence that fills my mind. goodbye happiness, hello loneliness my old friend, I can feel you coming back to hold me in your arms again. I wish you didn’t come around so often to steal those few moments in my life that I thought was to be my happiness , my ever after, to make me all alone all over again. I can feel you wrapping your arms around me and to take a hold of me. I should’ve listened a long time ago when my mom told me life will be cruel and unkind. Now my eyes are open due to all these bad moments. I tried so hard to hold onto you onto life to keep my head above the water, but I can feel the sorrow drowning what is left of me, filling my lungs with more vile disappointment. each day I open my eyes and you’re not the first thing I see, I feel like it cuts me like a new sharp blade gliding across my skin letting the red come out. Letting the blood tickle my hairs on my body as it exits my body. I really hate talking to doctors because they can’t fix my disease and I no longer want to talk about what’s bothering me because no comfort can comfort me like my loneliness can.

#lonliness #sadnees #isolation #love lost

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uraveragelonelygay · 3 years

Text

Another Love

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!reader

Summary: You meet Wanda at a grief group, as she’s struggling to heal after Vision’s death. Will you help her heal? Will your friendship grow into something more?

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: grief

Theme: Angst, Fluff

A/N: I have been working on this one all day, and I think it’s alright! It’s my first oneshot on this account, so please go easy on me! I hope you enjoy!

(Shoutout to @theloveclub-18 for the idea! I super appreciate it!)

“Thank you all for being so open this evening. I hope to see you all next week. Let the healing continue.”

As various people mumbled back “let the healing continue,” Wanda fought the urge to roll her eyes.

It had been six months since Vision’s death, and four months since she had started attending a grief group recommended by Bucky. She had tried to insist to him that it was useless but he begged her to try it out. Now, here she was, four months later, still feeling as broken as she had the day she watched the love of her life be killed. Twice. One might ask why she continued to attend the sessions weekly when she felt she hadn’t made any progress. Why had she spent 16 of her Wednesday nights at a grief group when she felt it was pointless? The answer is simple: the food.

The session always had a table full of freshly baked goods from Sugar, Butter, Flour, a bakery just down the road from the community center holding the sessions. Every week, Wanda would sit through listening to people talk about their heartbreak, and, when pushed to confront her own trauma, reluctantly share just enough to satisfy the facilitator. And she did it all just to have a few moments of sheer joy, letting whatever delicious creation the bakery had provided that week wash over her taste buds and temporarily take her away from this cruel world that had ripped her love from her.

Wanda grabbed her purse and made a beeline for the table full of goodies. She had been running late today, so she didn’t get a chance to grab anything before the session, leaving her options limited. There was only one cookie left, but as she reached for it, her hand brushed against someone else’s, causing her to pull her hand back quickly.

“I’m sorry-”

“No it’s fine, I shouldn’t have-”

“Please it’s all yours-”

You cleared your throat and shot her a sheepish smile before extending your hand to her.

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

Wanda looks at your hand skeptically and you awkwardly retract it when you realize she won’t be shaking it.

“I’m Wanda,” she says hesitantly, her eyes flashing to the cookie, and then the exit.

You tried again. “So you like the cookies here too?”

She meets your Y/E/C eyes impatiently before sighing.

“Yeah, I’ll just grab one next week, though, I really gotta go,” she says, starting towards the exit.

You watch her leave, intrigued by the girl, before you snap back to reality.

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

Wanda is almost to her car when she hears footsteps behind her and quickly turns around, her eyes glowing red.

You stare at her, wide-eyed, the remaining cookie in your hand.

“Shit, Wanda, I’m sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, I just wanted to give you this.”

Wanda sighs, her eyes returning to their normal color. She pinches the bridge of her nose. Remorse fills her face. Her grief had caused her to be angrier than usual, leading to her powers flaring up accidentally. And now she had frightened this woman who was just trying to give her a damn cookie.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have reacted like that. Thank you for the cookie. I promise I’m not always scary I just, I-”

You stopped her. “Hey, it’s fine. If I heard someone running at me in a parking lot in the middle of the night, I would be on edge too. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that. Plus, you’re...well...here,” you paused, gesturing to the community center the two of you had just come from, before continuing, “so I think it’s safe to assume you aren’t having the best time. I get it. If there’s any way I can help, please let me know.”

Wanda was at a loss for words. She had nearly struck you with her powers and here you were, looking at her with a gentle smile and no fear on your face whatsoever.

After a few minutes of silence, you awkwardly placed the napkin-wrapped cookie on the hood of her car, before stepping back and smiling at her yet again.

“I’ll see you next week, Wanda. Have a good night,” you say, waving at her before you walk out of the parking lot and down the block.

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

Only, you didn’t see her in Group the following week.

After leaving the community center, you were about to head down the block when you noticed her car in the parking lot, with her in it. You gently approached her car, tapping on the window quietly in an attempt to not startle her.

She looked up at you with puffy, red-rimmed eyes, before rolling down her window.

“May I help you?”

Her tone was much harsher than she intended, and she winced at it, but you merely smiled at her, unaffected, before digging through your bag and pulling out a tupperware container of chocolate chip cookies.

“They had leftovers tonight, you want some?”

And you had shocked Wanda yet again.

“Sure.”

You reached forward to hand the cookies to her through the window when Wanda decided to take a leap of faith.

“You can come sit in here and share them with me, I wouldn’t mind some company,” She says quietly before adding, “I’ll warn you, though, I’m a bit of a trainwreck right now.”

You laughed softly before opening the door to the passenger side of her car and sliding in. You looked at her with soft eyes.

“Trainwrecks unite.”

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

Wanda told you everything that night. She told you about Vision, about her love for him, and his for her. About how he was the first since her brother died to look at her like a person, and not a monster. She told you all about the sleepless nights, the nightmares, the desperate need for it to end.

And you listened. You watched her intently the whole time. You held her hand comfortingly as her body wracked with sobs. You were there. And that night, you didn’t know why, but you made a promise to always be there for the beautiful redhead with the lost hope.

That night was the first time since Vision’s death that Wanda slept soundly through the night. No nightmares. No suffering.

It had been three months since that night. Since then, it became a habit for the two of you to spend Wednesday nights following group sessions in her car, chatting about anything and everything. And Wanda had to admit, she was okay. For the first time since Vision’s death, she didn’t wish she could join him. She didn’t want to stay isolated in her room. She wanted to live. She wanted to show people the kindness you’d shown her. She woke every Wednesday with a smile, and you on her mind.

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

This Wednesday, you appeared nervous as you got into the passenger side of Wanda’s car.

Wanda noticed this right off the bat.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You start fidgeting with your fingers and look down at your lap as you respond.

“Yeah, I just...I have to tell you something. Promise you won’t get mad.”

Wanda looks at you with a gentle smile.

“Y/N, you’re my best friend, I could never get mad at you. What is it?”

You took a deep breath and looked up at Wanda, before asking the question.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Wanda’s eyes widened and she froze.

You tried to dig yourself out of the hole.

“Nevermind, forget I said anything, I never should’ve-”

“No.” Wanda said quietly.

“What?”

“No. I can’t. God, I could never love you.”

You felt your heart shatter in your chest.

Wanda quickly realized the weight of her words, and tried to fix them, “Y/N, no, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I-”

“It’s fine, Wanda. I have to go.”

With that, you scrambled out of the car and walked out of the parking lot and down the block, with tears streaming down your face, and your heart broken.

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

Wanda couldn’t believe she had said that. The truth is, she didn’t know if she had room in her heart for more than one love. She had loved Vision. He was everything to her. Could she also love you?

For the rest of the week, Wanda was beyond conflicted. She knew she had to apologize to you, but she didn’t want to do so until she had sorted out her own feelings. You deserved a solid answer.

It was Tuesday night. She would see you again tomorrow. And she still didn’t know. She tossed and turned that night for hours before she finally fell asleep, you and Vision occupying her mind, per usual.

She was in a field of flowers. It was beautiful. She thought about how she might like to show it to you. And then she heard someone. Someone she thought she would never hear from or see again.

“Wanda, darling.”

“Vision?” She spun around, and there he was, smiling at her.

“It’s okay, you know,” He said. Wanda was confused. He continued, “The feelings that you’re feeling. For her. It’s okay.”

She laughed, “You always did know me better than I knew myself.”

Vision smiled softly at her.

“Vision, I love you. I love you so much. I can’t let you go.”

“Wanda, no one is asking you to. You can move on without letting my memory slip away from you.”

Wanda nods softly, thinking intently about what he said.

“Tell me about her,” he encourages.

Wanda smiles.

“She’s so gentle. And so stubborn. I almost hurt her when we first met but she didn’t cower. She wasn’t afraid. She didn’t look at me like a monster. She made me laugh for the first time since you...you know. She fidgets with her fingers when she’s nervous. She does this adorable head tilt when she’s listening intently. She’s patient. She’s kind. She’s...she’s everything,” Wanda realizes, awestruck.

Vision approaches her.

“You love her.”

She looks at him, concerned. “Is that okay?”

He merely smiles. “Darling, of course it’s okay. She sounds wonderful. You deserve her. You deserve love, even if it isn’t with me. You deserve happiness.”

Wanda grabs his hands. “Thank you, Vision. For your love. I think it will always be a part of me. But I’m ready to move on. I love her. I’m ready.”

Vision squeezes her hands gently. “That you are, Wanda. I’ll always love you. Now go. Go to her.”

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

Wanda shot up, breathing deeply. This time, she only had one person on her mind: you. “I love her,” she whispers softly to herself. She smiles, but it quickly fades when she remembers the words she said to you last week. She had to make this right.

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

She arrived at Group early, noticing with a frown that the snack table was empty. She knew she would need some baked goods to give her the courage to approach you, so she approached the facilitator, Mindy, and cleared her throat to get Mindy’s attention.

“Um, hello, ma’am, I was just wondering where the goodies are? They’re usually here by now,” she said.

Mindy smiled at the girl. “I’m sorry, dear, but there won’t be any baked goods today. Y/N called me earlier, and told me she wouldn’t be able to make it.”

“Y/N? What does she have to do with-” Wanda pauses. Holy shit. You were the owner of Sugar, Butter, Flour. You had been the one making the goodies that fueled her to keep attending the group. You had been the provider of her temporary escape from the world. You did that. It truly was always you. She had to find you.

“Are you alright, dear?” Mindy asked.

Wanda shook her head. “No, there’s something I need to do. Thank you for your help, ma’am.” And with that, she sprinted out the door, got into her car, and pulled out of the parking lot.

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

Wanda didn’t know where she was going. She just knew she had to find you. And then it started raining. No, not just raining. Pouring. This made it incredibly hard for Wanda to see where she was going, but she was determined.

As she drove, she realized something. She had told you everything about herself. You had listened, asked questions. But she never once asked about you. Hell, she didn’t even know you baked for a living until 15 minutes ago. She didn’t even know why you attended the grief group.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t realize she had driven all the way to the park at the edge of town, until she saw you. You were sitting on a bench, in the pouring rain, sobbing and shaking. Her heart broke at the sight. She quietly got out of her car.

“Y/N?” She called your name softly, approaching you with caution.

Your head snapped up.

“Wanda?”

She smiled weakly at you, and suddenly your eyes filled with more tears as you began to shake again.

“I tried to go to Group and act like everything was normal, I really tried, Wanda, but I just couldn’t, I’m sorry, I’m so-”

Wanda rushed over to you, engulfing you in a hug, holding you tightly as you sobbed.

“It’s okay, malyshka, it’s alright. You didn’t do anything wrong. Breathe, sweet girl. I’m here. I’m right here, I promise.”

She continued to hold you and speak comforting words to you for what felt like hours, until your sobs eventually died down, and you pulled away, sniffling. You looked up at the sky as if just remembering it was pouring, before standing up from the bench.

“Sorry about that. We should probably go inside, it’s pouring, and I don’t want you to-”

“I love you,” Wanda blurted out, leaving you speechless. She stood up and took your hands, mentally breathing a sigh of relief when you don't pull away. “I’m in love with you. I’m so sorry for not admitting it to myself, or you, sooner. Me saying that I could never love you? That was the grief speaking. I shouldn’t have let it control me like that. And I’m done. I’m done letting it control me. The truth is, anyone would be lucky to love you. And I do. I love you. I love your smile, I love your kind heart. I love your baked treats, which, by the way, I just learned were yours about an hour ago,” She says, and you let out a wet laugh. “I shouldn’t have said those things,” She continued, “It was wrong. I’m in love with you. And I understand if you don’t want to give me a second chance, because-”

You cut her off by smashing your lips against hers, and without hesitation, she kissed back, her arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer. The two of you only pulled away when you let out a violent shiver because of the rain. She looked at you concerned, but you merely laughed, pulling her in for another kiss.

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

“Detka, I’m home!” Wanda called out, wondering where you were. Her questions were answered when a delicious smell hit her. She walked into the kitchen and smiled adoringly at you. You were moving around the kitchen, flour in your hair, and batter all over your clothes, completely in your own little world.

“Detka,” Wanda tries again, and you spin around, holding a spatula out in front of you as a form of defense.

“Shit, Wanda, sorry, you scared me!” You said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“My how the tables have turned,” she says teasingly, before removing the spatula from your hand and licking it.

“Wanda,” you pouted, “I was using that! Now I have to wash it!”

Wanda kissed the pout off of your face, before smiling at you triumphantly at doing so.

“Or, you could stop baking for the night and come cuddle with me and watch Bewitched,” she suggested, giving you those adorable puppy dog eyes.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You know I can’t resist that face. Okay. Give me 10 minutes to get showered and then I’ll join you on the couch.”

“I’ll be counting!” She called as you made your way to the bathroom.

It had been 5 years since that night in the rain, and as she sat down on the couch, gazing down at the wedding band that adorned her left hand, she still couldn’t believe how she had gotten so lucky to find another love. You were beautiful, kind, and patient, and she loved you with every ounce of her heart.

“What are you thinking about, pretty girl?” You asked with a smile, before settling down next to her on the couch and curling into her side.

“You. It’s always you,” she replied, kissing your temple.

You smile lovingly at her. “I love you, Wanda.”

“And I love you, beautiful girl.”

And as the two of you sat there, snuggled up, and watched Bewitched, both of you were so grateful that Wanda had made room for another love.

#wanda maximoff x fem reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel imagine #marvel one shot #wanda maximoff #wanda #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda imagine #marvel #wandavision #angst #fluff #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff angst

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yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

dilf (and love) | knj | m

pairing: kim namjoon x oc

genre: fluff, domestic fluff, smut, established relationship, marriage and kids lol

warnings: light dom/sub themes, pregnancy kink, penetrative sex, oral sex (f & m receiving), DILF JOON

words: 6, 702

summary: it's been too long since you and namjoon had time to yourselves

“God take that thing away from me!” You whine as you smother your face with your hands.

Jin pins you with a dry look as he catches a glimpse of ‘that thing’ who is looking up at you with big eyes and a toothless grin.

“That thing is your child …” Jin says blandly.

“That thing is ruining my sex life.” You narrow your eyes at Chanmi as she babbles some incoherent words with her ten-month-old vocabulary. You’d think as the daughter and apple of Kim Namjoon’s eye that she’d be able to read, write and speak sixteen languages at the age of one.

You still allow Chanmi to wrap her chubby fingers around your thinner ones and you can’t help but coo at your daughter. While she may have been the one thing that disrupted any intimate moment between you and Namjoon, you would fight anyone that would ever dare to mess with her. Your own husband included.

“Please, spare the details,” Jin mutters under his breath as he watches Chanmi fondly as she attempts to tug at your sleeve in hopes of getting your attention. You squeeze her cheeks before lifting her up in your arms and hold her close to your chest. You whine because she smells so … fresh. Just like a little bread baby that was all yours.

God, you loved her.

“My old sex life brought me this angel.” You grin up at your daughter who just smiles at you, unknowing of the context of your words.

“Can you stop using such vulgar words in front of your child?” Jin scolds you but doesn’t do anything much to take Chanmi out of your grasp.

You roll your eyes.

“She’s like 300 days old. She doesn’t even know how to shit at a decent hour let alone understand what sex is. Penis in vagina. Destroying pussy. A hole in one. Railing—”

Jin slaps his hand over your mouth to get you to stop talking as he glares at you.

“Why did my brother marry a heathen like you.” Jin seethes.

You shrug nonchalantly as you turn your head to see your dumbhead yet smart-ass husband that was attempting to glue back the shards of glass from the wine glass he broke earlier in hopes of you not realising.

“He needed to put his 148 IQ to good use and I’m the best investment his finance major ever got him.”

“The only good thing that came out of your marriage is this cutie.” Jin coos at his niece and you have half the mind to withdraw his Chanmi visiting card because whenever he was over all he did was berate you and your … unique ways of parenting.

But Jin would still say he cared for you as far as a brother-in-law would but with the added benefit of the fact that he was your best friend before he became your brother-in-law. You were an interesting character, to say the least, and the only reason you managed to befriend Jin was due to the fact that you didn’t know what boundaries meant and had invaded his personal space on the first day of lectures when you leaned over him to throw something at a know-it-all. Jin had been annoyed, but then an unlikely friendship bloomed out of the mutual distaste for ‘Howard from Accounting’.

He introduced you to Namjoon just because he thought that it was hilarious that you and his brother were polar opposites. Jin didn’t even expect the two of you to get along with each other let alone fall in love, but life had a funny way of saying ‘fuck you and your expectations’ to Jin when he least expected it.

The only thing that he regrets is the fact that now he had to listen to both you and his brother whine about your sex life, or lack thereof after the two of you became parents. Being a mother was hard because there was no manual to tell you what was right or wrong when it came to your baby but the experience itself. When you first fed Chanmi softened shrimp in her meals and caused an allergic reaction; you cried for hours straight because you felt like you should’ve just known.

Namjoon was a good partner and an even better father because he was understanding. The first few months postpartum he respected the fact that you weren’t ready to show your body to him because of the way it changed after giving birth to Chanmi, and he never told you that you were in your head for feeling that way. He validated all your feelings through all the rough edges that you gave him when you were going through your own things.

You finally felt comfortable to get naked around Namjoon at the five-month mark where your sex drive returned to that of when you were in your early twenties and just begun knowing how to truly enjoy sexual intimacies with a partner, but a five-month-old baby didn’t allow for much intimacy with your hot ass husband either.

It sucked because Namjoon had always been broad and very dad-like, and after he officially became a father to Chanmi you just felt like salivating over him every waking second you got because … God … Namjoon was a gift from the God’s themselves. Whenever you saw the way he handled Chanmi with absolute gentleness and care you felt like dropping to your knees and sucking the soul out of him. It didn’t help that he wore his glasses every night when he tucked her into bed and read her Shakespeare because it would ‘help with development’. You loved your husband but he was a little excessive.

“Oh God stop drooling over my brother!” Jin grimaces when he sees the bedroom eyes you were shooting Namjoon from where the two of you were with Chanmi.

You sigh dreamily and lean against your palm as you check out Namjoon’s ass.

“I can’t help that your brother and my husband has an ass like that.” You click your tongue.

Chanmi giggles again and it’s like a bell chiming at your favourite cafe when you cuddle her closer, feeling comfort in her scent. She smelt just like home and bubbles.

“How about I give you a sibling, huh?” You whisper to Chanmi who just opens her mouth to babble. Jin on the other hand facepalms himself and sighs.

“You’re insufferable.”

“I’m horny.” You shrug.

“Correction: you’re insufferable on a daily basis but absolutely horrifying to deal with when you’re horny.” He sneers.

“I just need to bed him and I’ll be fine.” You drawl, as your husband who spent the better half of your conversation fixing the wine glass grins to himself with his dimples when he finally placed the last piece of glass back into place. He was so meticulous and cute for the wrong reasons.

“Jesus, stop …” Jin groans.

“Jesus would definitely tell me to go get that dick because I deserve it.” You pat yourself on the back and wince slightly when you smell the telltale signs of Chanmi’s poop permeating the air.

“Say … would Yoongi mind having Chanmi over your place for the weekend?” Jin recognizes the devious expression you have on your face and knows that there’s no way out of it.

“I don’t have a choice do I?” Jin sighs.

You shake your head.

“Nope. Cause’ I texted Yoongi yesterday and said he totally wants to see his niece. The baby bag is all ready to go and it’s in the nursery.” You cock your thumb to the room down the hallway and Jin thinks to himself of all the reasons why he shouldn’t have introduced you to his brother at all seven years back.

“It’s weird without her …” Namjoon frowns as the two of you stand in the nursery as if you were mourning the loss of your child. It felt a lot like it, though.

The two of you never spent more than a few hours away from Chanmi ever since she was born and it felt weird to not smell her vomit from the kitchen or hear her giggles as you cooked dinner. You missed Namjoon and the spark you had in the first years of your relationship but you also felt a little empty without Chanmi’s presence with you.

“I miss her.” You whine into Namjoon’s chest and he clutches you tightly as if to say that he mirrored your sentiment.

“Should we call them?” You look up at him with wide eyes and he smoothes the frown lines on your forehead and chuckles, offering a gentle kiss to your temples.

“We called fifteen minutes ago, remember?” He chides you gently.

You huff, “I just … it’s so quiet. Where are my baby babbles?” You pout.

Namjoon sighs and rubs his thumb comfortingly on your arm when you look around at the purple nursery with reminders of your daughter that wasn’t currently with you.

“Let’s enjoy what we have, okay love?” Namjoon offers, “I miss Chanmi too but I miss this too.”

You smile at him the way he first fell in love with you years ago and leans down to place a peck onto your lips.

“I miss having you all to myself.” He whispers against your lips and you shiver at the way his broadness is clouding all your senses.

“You always have me Joon.” You tell him in a tone as soft as his.

His chest rumbles when he laughs and you feel so warm in the comfort of your husband's arms and you felt it too. Besides the physical aspect of having sex with him, you missed holding him like this without a care in the world. Most of your cuddle sessions were left to the nights you slept next to each other in bed because the two of you were either exhausted with work or trying to care for Chanmi. It’s been a long time since you could just feel Namjoon’s presence with you.

“Besides … we can finally, you know …” He mumbles shyly into your hair and the devil horns that you hide most of the time reappear.

“What, Joon?” You smirk up at him, hands trailing slowly down his chest.

Your husband was so big that every room he walked into he basically commanded the attention of every single person that would come across him. That’s what happens when you’re six foot and broad like him. But you loved the fact that you were the only one that got to see the much softer side to him that he didn’t just show anyone. The fact that he was the CEO of his own company made his persona ever more intimidating than he actually was but you knew he was a huge softie on the inside.

The two of you were very different in many senses. From your personalities to the way you approached conflict. Namjoon was very diplomatic but you were anything but. He was truly the most empathetic and understanding person you’ve met in your entire life and you’ve seen a total of ten therapists in your teenage years. Namjoon was the balance that levelled your temper and uninhibited tendencies to always be the loudest person in every room. With every time you snarked at someone who pushed your buttons came Namjoon that placed a gentle hand on your back with a soft whisper of comfort.

In fact, most people thought the two of you would have never lasted. You heard those mean girls in college that made petty bets on the fact that you’d probably end up leaving him because you were too much of a bitch to deal with someone as kind as Namjoon. You remembered most of your fights being about your insecurities and how you always thought that Namjoon deserved better and with him telling you that you were the one for him.

Looking back, you laugh because the two of you were theoretically horrible for each other but exactly what the other needed. Namjoon needed someone free-spirited enough to manage his meticulous tendencies and you needed someone willing to see you for more than your erratic behaviour.

“What’s that pretty head of yours thinking about?” Namjoon hums when he realises you’re not paying attention to him anymore. He clasps your hands together to bring back your attention to him as you look up at him with eyes so full of love.

“Just reminiscing on the old days.” You tell him and he snorts.

“You say that as if we’re ancient.”

“You’re not fooling anyone. I heard your joints cracking when you bent down to pick up the strands of hair on the floor.” You tease.

“And who’s fault is it that I’m constantly bending over to pick up strands of hair because she sheds like a cat?” He retorts playfully.

“We’re both old.” You pout, playing with his fingers and admiring the glimmer of his wedding ring. You can’t believe you bagged a man like Namjoon.

“I still got it, though.” He adds thoughtfully and you raise an eye at his comment.

“Got what?”

“My game.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively and you burst out laughing because it was so on-brand for Namjoon to make a comment like that but blush when you got a little more touchy-feely with him when he least expected it.

“How about you show me then?” You whisper as you turn around to press yourself against his chest, ensuring that your cleavage was on full show to his line of vision when he looks down at you.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love your tits after the pregnancy?” He tells you breathily and you snort.

“So you didn’t like my tits before I gave birth to your child?”

He rolls his eyes and reaches his hands below your thighs to lift you up so that you could wrap your legs around his waist. The way he could effortlessly carry you and lift you up always made your heart and nether regions flutter because he was so big that he basically towered over you. Especially when he became a dad it was like his hot factor exploded exponentially. He basically became the epitome of a dilf.

“You and your mouth,” He tsks as he carries you out of the nursery and into your bedroom, “I just may need to shut you up.”

You whine into his chest before he tosses you down onto your mattress as he towers over you, looking over your body like you were the finest piece of art he’s ever seen. Namjoon always had ways to make you feel like a million bucks even though you were in an old camisole and your old college varsity sweatpants.

“Why don’t you do it then?” You tease back.

You were different from the women that Namjoon has been with prior to your seven-year-long relationship as most of them were pliant and quiet, and took whatever he gave to them. Don’t get him wrong, he loved playing the dominant character in bed but he also needed a brat to push his buttons and it was exactly what you were. Even if the two of you were so fundamentally different in personalities, the two of you were definitely sexually compatible.

“Flip over.” He demands and you whine before reluctantly turning over.

“I want to see you.” You whine petulantly.

You feel him rather than have him verbally respond to you because he delivers a tight slap to your ass as you gasp at the impact. He rubs his hands soothingly over your butt cheeks and squeezes them as he leans over your body, crowding your back with his body heat.

“Don’t be a brat ___.” He sneers into your ear and the moan is stuck on your throat when you feel him drag his hands all over your body until it reaches under your body to reach for your tits.

“Fuck. I love your tits.” He groans.

Namjoon’s hands immediately trail down your body until they reach the hem of your shorts and you wiggle your ass back at him teasingly. You hear him growl and you always knew that Namjoon was an ass man and your ass made him weak.

“Need I remind you that you’re in no position to tease, sweetheart?” He whispers into your ear and you feel the goosebumps erupt on the surface of your skin.

“Fuck. Please—Joon, touch me.” You gasp as you feel him pull down your shorts to be greeted with a cheeky pair of panties that left little to imagine of what hides underneath. Your husband had the talent of getting you obscenely wet without doing much and it’s proven again when you feel the uncomfortable ache between your legs as he flips your body over once again to get a good glimpse of your heaving body, as well as the stain on your panties.

His knuckles trace the inner side of your thigh carefully as he avoids the place you need him the most while you feel more wetness pool at your entrance. You’ve been deprived of his touch for way too long and that caused your sensitive reactions to anything that he did. You missed his fingers so much and having him so close yet so far away from your pussy was destroying your restraint.

“Namjoon p-please!” You cry when he finally cups your mound with his large palm.

He digs the heel of his palm straight into your clit as you arch your back and let out a low moan.

“So wet baby and I’ve barely done anything.” He taunts you with the low baritone of his voice.

“You make me so wet Joonie.” You pant when you feel him grind his palm into your clit some more, providing the satisfying friction that you’ve been craving.

The feeling doesn’t last long because he’s hastily removing your panties from your legs and tosses them somewhere over his shoulder. His face is directly in front of your pussy and you can’t help but feel flustered at the proximity of his breath to your hole. You’ve done this a million times before but the familiarity is slightly lost due to the time between the last and the present.

“Where’s the brat that couldn’t shut her mouth before, hm?” He mumbles and you feel every breath against your pussy. You squirm and feel his large hands wrap around your thighs, locking you into position so you wouldn’t be able to move.

“It’s just been so—ah—long,” You tell him breathily.

“Too long. Missed this pussy.” He says as a parting gift before he dives straight into your clit and begins to lap rounds over the hardened bud. You let out a high pitched moan at the pleasure he was providing you with just his tongue alone, and the way that he knew just where to focus on your clit with tense figure-eights.

“Ah—ah, fuck—Joon!” You groan as your hands wrap around his hair to tug at it. You feel him moan against your pussy, which sends vibrations up to your core and causes more wetness to pool at your centre.

Namjoon is relentless when he digs his hands harder into the meat of your thighs to prevent you from moving too much as he continues to suction on your clit, focusing his attention on it as much as he could. After years of being together, he just knew what you loved and this was it.

You liked it messy. Wet and fast, and Namjoon always gave it to you good. He pulls away momentarily so he could look up at you with a hooded gaze and you let out a high pitched whine when you see the glistening of his chin all the way up to his nose with the signs of your wetness staining him. His fingers run up your thighs teasingly and you shift under his ministrations only for him to smack your right thigh harshly.

“If you move you don’t get to cum.” He threatens you and you immediately still your body with the impossible threat.

You feel his fingers run up and down on your slit as he gathers all your wetness into one place, hovering slightly over your clit. You have to keep your whine to a minimum because Namjoon got real mean when he wanted to. But he was a good lover—so good.

Your hole is throbbing with a need to be filled, and your husband picks up on that immediately as he prods your entrance with the tip of his index finger. You attempt to grind down on him as you make eye contact with the dark eyes that threaten to take away your orgasm.

“I said. Don’t. Move.” He reminds you.

You whimper in silence as he teases your hole a little more before he decides to return home into the warmth of your walls. The moment that barrier was broken, you feel him go straight for the hook as he reaches his index finger all the way up until his knuckles. You hear Namjoon hiss under his breath as he begins prodding your walls until he finds—

“Fuck—there, Joon—ah!” You gasp, head tilting backwards when your husband finds your g-spot.

Namjoon smirks to himself and slides another finger in to hook them upwards into your g-spot, unmoving as he stills himself against the area; causing pure, unaltered pleasured to run through your veins. You’re vibrating and twitching all at once because you can’t control the involuntary response that comes with your husband's demon fingers that are causing every possible pleasurable feeling to run through your system.

You can’t keep the moan to yourself either as Namjoon looks at you with awe, but you miss it because your eyes are too busy being rolled to the back of your head at the way Namjoon skilfully thrusts into your pussy.

“H-Harder, p-please Joon—wanna cum so bad.” You moan and run your fingers through his hair to bring his mouth closer to your mound.

He lowly chuckles and shakes his head at your sex drive. And the next thing he does next nearly makes you cum on the spot.

The way he gathers his spit at the back of his throat was borderline pornographic as you see the way his throat revs up. He drops the glob of spit directly onto your clit and uses the hand that wasn’t in your pussy to spread the lubricant all over your slit. He purposefully grazes your clit but doesn’t apply enough pressure to make your head spin, but just enough for you to whine in want.

“Your pussy is so pretty love.” He coos, leaning into your mound to deliver kitten-licks to your clit, and the warmth of his tongue with the added addition of his fingers feels all too much.

“J-Joon!” You gasp when you feel him thrust his fingers rapidly in and out of your pussy that your body hitched up the surface of the bed. Every thrust was accompanied by the direct assault of his tongue on your clit as he presses down on the hardened bud with the purpose to drive you closer to your orgasm.

You were painfully close, and the precision of his fingers at your g-spot allows you to revel in the way the coil in your body is ready to snap, so close to release. Namjoon leans down so that his head is where you love him the most, between your thighs as he scores the final goal and presses his tongue against your clit.

“Oh my god Joon—fuck—s-so good—I’m gonna cum!” Your back arches off the bed uselessly because of the way that Namjoon uses his other hand to pin you down, arms wrapped tightly around your stomach.

“Come for me pretty girl.” He coos against your clit and the vibrations is what sends you over the edge.

He fucks his fingers into you as you orgasm, kitten licking your clit with just enough pressure for you to whine as you buck your hips up into his mouth involuntarily.

“Fuck. Baby—hurts.” You whine, pushing his head away from your pussy when the overstimulation gets to you.

Namjoon places one last teasing peck on your clit, which causes you to twitch and pinch his neck as he chuckles, dragging his hand up your body to bring you closer to him.

“Still got it, hm?” He whispers against the column of your neck as you roll your eyes.

“Just kiss me you fool.” You pull him in for a kiss, and your tongue immediately finds its place home in Namjoon’s mouth.

It’s probably because it’s been so long since the two of you could feel each other like this, without any rush to get it over with but with the freedom to enjoy each other’s bodies as much as you’d like. Namjoon’s hands were the truth of that as he trails his arms down the sides of your waist and tugs you closer to him by your hips until he reaches for the hem of your camisole to tug it off your body.

He grabs the mounds of flesh in his hands and squeezes them hard enough to cause another gush of wetness to drip down the side of your thighs and onto his sweatpants. Besides the fact that he delivered a mind-blowing orgasm to you, the stained wetness of his sweatpants from his pre-cum and your slick is enough for you to push him down onto the bed.

“I’m gonna suck your cock.” You kiss him on the lips one last time before you’re leaning down to palm him over his sweatpants.

He hisses above you and grabs the back of your neck lovingly that it has you snorting.

“You know if you’re laughing at my dick my feelings are going to be very hurt,” Namjoon says from above you.

“It’s just …” You shake your head and giggle as you clench your fist around the outline of Namjoon’s cock as he lets out a low breath of approval at your action.

“You used to shove my head onto your cock the moment I reached your pants and now you’re so soft.” You tease.

You hear his breath hitch and the grip on your neck tighten at your taunting words. The excitement already pooling in your stomach at the roughness that would ensue from your husband.

“Me? Soft? Is that what you want baby?” His tone is warning and you know he’s serious.

You shake your head as you look up at him with innocent eyes, a stark contrast to the hand that continues to fondle his balls over his sweatpants.

“Don’t be a bitch and take my cock out.” He sneers, and you smile to yourself cheekily—knowing you hit a sore spot.

You happily oblige as you pull Namjoon’s sweats down to be greeted with your husbands cock. The visual itself has your pussy throbbing, and every time you’re faced with it, you always burn with the prospect of his thick cock pounding into your pussy.

“Now suck it like a good girl.” He guides your head towards his dick but you’re proactive enough to fully start licking at his tip, tongue teasing his slit as you hear him let out a low groan.

Your eyes are locked on his figure, as his head is thrown back. You want to grind on the sheets but you know that would delay him fucking you so you decide against it. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t appreciate the visual that your husband was giving you from where you were.

Namjoon had always been handsome. But there’s something about seeing him throw his head back in pleasure because of you that has your stomach churning with pride. You’d shamelessly admit that you were more on the possessive side, purely because you knew there were many men and women out there who desired Namjoon in more ways than one; and you didn’t like sharing one bit.

You spit onto his dick as your hands worked the rest of the length that you didn’t engulf in your mouth as you hollowed your cheeks to create a suction. Your tongue begins to tease the underside of his shaft, the way he likes the most and you know he’s enjoying your focus there because the hand that grips your neck is now tightly clutching your hair in a fist.

“Fuck. That’s it, baby.” He groans.

Motivated by the praise, you sink deeper, hands resting on his thick thighs as you push yourself until your nose reaches his pelvis. You’ve taken his cock like a champion on many occasions, and you can only thank him for that like the numerous times he had to guide you down on his cock were probably the only reason why your tiny throat could welcome his thick girth.

The sounds of you chocking on his dick was a lot for Namjoon, mainly because he couldn’t get enough of his wife but also because he’s been waiting out to bust a nut down your throat—actually your pussy—so long that he can’t handle the onslaught of pleasure your mouth brings him.

“Baby—baby,” He tugs you off his cock and the redness around your cheeks with the tears that pool at your waterline is enough to make his heart soar. Even though you were nasty in bed, he loved every single part of your forwardness.

“Your mouth is amazing but I need to cum in your pussy.” He tells you.

You whine at his declaration and allow him to manhandle you until you were face down ass up, ass pressed tightly against his pelvis as you grind your wet cunt over the hardness of his dick.

“Fuck—you’re so wet, baby. You like sucking my cock?” He growls, arms reaching around your stomach to pull your body flush against his chest.

When you reach your hand to wrap around his head to balance yourself, you see a view of your bodies together in your mirror. Courtesy of when you first moved in and due to you and Namjoon’s egocentric tendencies of wanting to see you guys fucking each other.

“S-So much Joon.” You garble.

His hand reach down to cup your mound and digs his palm into your clit as you grind down against his hand. You feel him loosely trace over your clit to gather your wetness into his hand to lather it over his dick.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good.” He whispers in your ear when he lines his cock against your entrance.

You whine, excitement erupting inside of you—until he finally slides it.

It definitely takes you by surprise because your husband was big. And the fact that you haven’t had his dick in you for months made it much more of a pleasant surprise when he bottoms out completely in one swift thrust of his hips, which causes your body to fall forward as your hands grip the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck. This tight pussy’s mine, right?” He growls.

You nod your head into the sheets as he begins with a few experimental thrusts as you adjust to the slight, yet pleasurable, sting in your lower half.

Until you squeeze his hand on your hip to give him the go, Namjoon settles for slow thrusts into your pussy, but it’s enough to prod at your pleasurable spot because not only is Namjoon smart, kind, funny, handsome and ridiculously a great father—he is phenomenal at sex. Probably why he knocked you up on the night of your honeymoon with your bundle of joy.

Namjoon begins snapping his hips into yours relentlessly like a man starved, and starved he was. He’s missed the wet heat of your pussy; and God did he love your daughter—but he missed this—your pussy.

“F-Fuuuuu—” You’re heaving.

Namjoon continues to thrust into your pussy, angling his hips upwards so that he’d reach places deeper than ever as your eyes roll to the back of your heart in pleasure.

“Fuck—this—tight—pussy—” His words follow the sharpness of his thrusts and you don’t even know where to grab because all your sensations are heightened, especially when Namjoon reaches a hand down to your clit to begin rubbing it vigorously.

“Nam—Joon!”

You’re so wet that the squelch of his thrusts is echoed in your bedroom, and the only thing you hear besides that is your loud moans and the heavy breathing coming from Namjoon.

It’s only when he plants his knees firmly into the mattress and brings your hips to meet his thrusts is when you feel your pussy clench uncontrollably around his cock as you wail out his name.

“Fuck, baby—you’re clenching—so—hard.” He groans, pushing his hips deeper into your pussy.

“Love your cock,” You moan, “Fuck—Joon, please—fuck your cum into me.”

“Yeah?” He grits his teeth and flips your over effortlessly, dragging your leg over his shoulder as he begins pounding into you even harder as he admires the way your face contorts in pleasure.

“Yeah.” You nod your head like a sex-crazed maniac because your husband was just too good with his hips.

“Gonna give you another baby.” He whispers when he leans down into your face as your eyes widen at his declaration. Your pussy reacts too, gushing out even more wetness as it becomes tighter around Namjoon’s cock.

“Fuck. You like that idea? A sibling for Chan’?” He grinds his pelvis into your clit as his words spur your second orgasm for the night on.

“No shit?” You gasp when he revs up his spit in the back of his throat, looking at your mouth invitingly.

“Yeah,” He says breathlessly, and you open your mouth to welcome his tongue when he drops the glob of spit down your throat.

You whine, feeling your orgasm coming so closely.

“Fuck Joon—I’m gonna cum.” You gasp.

You feel Namjoon’s hips stutter and you know he’s coming soon too.

“Me too baby.” He tells you while giving you the set of most adoring eyes ever. Even as he’s fucking you into the next dimension, Namjoon makes you feel so utterly loved and whole that you can’t imagine spending the rest of your life with anyone else.

He snaps his hips the hardest he’s ever done throughout the entire night, and you feel your pussy throb so much; signalling to you and Namjoon that your release was right there.

“Baby—I’m gonna—I’m gonna c-cum,” You grab onto his shoulder to pull him closer to you.

He welcomes it and leaves open mouth kisses onto your mouth as he fucks into you like a mad man.

“Cum.”

That’s all it takes for you to reach an explosive orgasm, one that quite literally causes you to blank out for a second because while Namjoon’s hot cum spurts into your pussy short after you came, he feels your body go limp in his embrace; causing his eyes to widen.

Only until you’re blinking up at him dazedly is when he holds you to his chest, as you feel his chest rumble when he chuckles.

“Baby … I thought you died.” He cards a hand through your hair and you smile at him, stupidly in love.

“If I die because of your dick I’d be happy.” You grin at him cutely. And he scoffs at the way you look so cute after you’ve been fucked to hell and back.

“My horny little monster,” He flicks your forehead as you bring him close to your chest, his dick still settled inside of you. But there was a sort of intimacy that you couldn’t quite put words to, but welcomed the gesture nevertheless.

“Were you serious?” You ask after a while of sharing a few intimate pecks to each others’ lips.

He finally pulls out to roll on his side as he reaches over to pull your close to his chest. He raises an eyebrow at your expression when you feel his cum leak out of you.

“God you really didn’t jack off recently, did you?” You ask.

He pecks you on the nose as he quickly tugs clean boxers over his legs and disappears into your on-suite. You sigh to yourself dreamily, thinking of how lucky you were to be with someone as loving and compassionate as Namjoon was.

You weren’t necessarily unlucky when it came to your relationships prior to him, but there would always be dealbreakers that caused splits to be more bitter than neutral. Namjoon was the only man in your life that you could speak to without fearing any judgement from because he wasn’t like that. He knew how to make you feel wanted and also how to want yourself, all while being your best friend and partner.

When he returns, he returns with a damp cloth and immediately begins cleaning up the mess between your thighs, even as he cheekily mentions how there was more from where that came from as you slap him on the shoulder.

Once he ensures he’s satisfied, he tosses the cloth into the laundry basket and grabs a big t-shirt of his to slip it over your body. You hum in satisfaction as his scent overwhelms you, even more so when he tugs you close to his body and he looks at you with all the love in the world.

“You asked if I was serious earlier?” He repeats your question and you nod your head looking up at him.

“Yeah.” You let out a breathy smile when he leans down to pull your face towards his own as you admire all the freckles and pores on his skin, fingers tracing loosely over the wrinkles that come with age.

“I know it’s sudden but … I’ve been thinking about our family and—I want our family to become bigger.” He tells you like it’s a secret. You know he’s been mulling over it for quite a while because he looks a little unsure of himself, but all you can do is smile widely at him.

“Really?” You ask, playing with the hair on the back of his neck when you feel his fingers trace over the skin on your back.

“Of course. I love you, and I love Chanmi. I’ve always wanted kids and you brought the best gift in my life to me and … I can’t explain how happy I am when I’m with the two of you.” He smiles at you gently.

You don’t know if it’s because he just fucked you so good, or was it because you were lovesick, but your eyes water because Namjoon was Namjoon.

“But—if you’re not ready then I understand and we can—”

“Yes.” You interrupt him.

His eyes widen as you see the excitement begin to pour into his irises.

“Wait—really?” He asks innocently.

You nod your head and kiss him on the lips softly, no rush as he returns the gesture, holding you close onto his chest where you feel the best in his arms.

“Yes really. I want what you want. And I think it’s about time Chanmi gets a sibling, no?” You tease.

He groans like you’re unreal as he buries his head into the crook of your neck as you caress him gently. Namjoon was really just like an oversized baby and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“When?” He asks.

You tease your fingertips down to his chest and offer him a knowing look.

“Now?” You feign indifference but you can see the wide grin he sports on his face.

“Fuck. Don’t say that. I think my dick is going to fall off at how hard I fucked you just now,” He whined.

“You’re getting old,” You massage his shoulders as he sighs.

“I am …” He acknowledges, “But we’ll grow old together, right?”

The prospect of a future of unknowns with Namjoon only makes your heart bloom. You nod your head, not another word need to be uttered as he holds you in his arms, excited for what’s to come.

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lavenderwhore444 · 3 years

Note

Ok so we all love pervert shigaraki ( Ik u do so please don’t lie to ur self love 😀) anyways what if shigaraki had a huge crush on the reader and steals there panties ( when there out in a mission working there ass off) but the reader notices and placed cameras in her room just to see who’s stealing them surprise surprise it’s ya boy shiggy and the reader finds it kind of cute that he’s that desperate but is also upsetting because there working and he’s here getting off on her stuff so.the reader catch’s him in the act and shows him the videos ( shigaraki at this point is crying from embarrassment and he’s begging for the reader to delete the videos) as a punishment the reader pegs the shit out of him and the ending is fluff since I do love shiggy

First of all English isn’t my first language so apologizes for any mistakes and for the ending please work ur magic sis

💍🧎🏻‍♀️marry me this is so good

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If you want to use interactive fics, it's easy and makes reading fics SO much better. First, you download the Google Chrome extension. You'll see it in the top right corner of your screen. Next, you enter your name in the first box. If you want to change something other than y/n, please click on the text that says “want to change something other than y/n?” here, you can change any word you want to a different word. When I talk about your quirk I will use y/q

Warnings: smut (obvi) shigaraki is a perv degradation a little I think #peg shiggy 2021 fingering for Shig 😌 humiliation??? Idk what to put man request says it all

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🌸 I have an irl on here rn because we both simp for crusty men, and she’s probably lowkey scared of me. I was drunk on having social interaction for the first time forever and was like, “omg, I write for them. I have Tumblr 🤪” Listen, I told you I would do anything for him, and I fucking meant it, ok? And he’s a little pervert, so they're kinda gross (indirectly making me have gross kinks too ig ☹️) Plus, I warned you about his piss kink, that should've been a good indicator to the rest of these 🙄 , Anyways anon has sent me THE BEST SCENARIOS OMG. I have read a lot of Shigaraki fics, BUT THESE ARE SO ORIGINAL IM SO HAPPY. There's one, in particular, I'm excited to write because it's just so cute, omg. 🌸

It was the fifth time this week. You were out on another mission, and Tomura was half-naked in your room on the verge of passing out from how many times he had cum into various articles of your clothing. It started off as just your panties. Perverted but not insane. As time went on, it only got worse. The panties weren’t good enough. He started putting one of your shirts over his face as he got off, and that worked...for a while. His next fix was to steal some of your perfume, but it wasn't good enough.

He felt disgusting the first time he got off in your room. He felt like he'd crossed a line (not that he hadn’t already), but it was the best orgasm of his life. What's done is done, so he might as well take advantage of the rest of your room. He was pretty comfortable now, face pressed into your pillow, inhaling your scent as his body spasmed for the last time. He was utterly spent.

And now, for the worst part, being in your room surrounded by your stuff, smelling your perfume, but still being all alone. It wasn't like Shigaraki had a crush on you or anything. Him having a crush on y/n? Unheard of. The rest of the girls in the league were like family to him. You two just weren't there yet, even though it had been five months, and he blushes whenever you talk to him. So what if he wants to punch Dabi whenever he looks at you? He wasn't in love with you. God damn it, he was just horny. That was it. That was the extent of his feelings, and they would go away.

They didn't go away, but more of your stuff sure did. It was becoming more common for clothing in your room to go missing only to end up clean and folded in the proper drawer. It was weird, but someone was doing most of your laundry for you. It wasn't Dabi taking your stuff. He could get his dick wet whenever he wanted. The other guys preached “don’t lewd y/n” and tried to fight Dabi when he put his hand on your thigh. Toga would steal your shirts but definitely not your underwear. If she did steal your clothing, she’d post a mirror pic and tag you in it.

So that left your boss. Tomura Shigaraki. You thought he hated you. He got all quiet and distant when you talked to him. Was he nervous? He glared at you and Dabi. Or was it just Dabi? Maybe the little creep did like you. He was kinda cute. His messy hair looked so soft, his eyes lit up when he won his games, Shigaraki had this little smile when he was watching the league sit together, and he had discarded father almost completely. But he was a creep, and you definitely didn't have a crush on him. Definitely not.

But part of you didn't want to tell him to stop. It took a while to cook up a plan, but it was foolproof when you came up with one. You found stole the money to invest in some hidden cameras. By now, you were starting to accept that you might like him just a little. But in a sad puppy kind of way. You didn't actually have a crush on him. Nope, not at all.

And it was kind of mean that he was making you do all this work while he got to jerk off in your bed. You'd come back with cuts, scrapes, bruises, and even a broken bone one time, just for him to totally ignore you. He had spent all day ruining your clothes and wouldn't even look at you.

Your behavior had changed towards Tomura, though, and he had definitely noticed. You were acting the same way he was. You were always blushing when you talked to him. You sat next to him while he played games, but it's "just because you're bored." Maybe you were starting to like him back. He had come to terms with his not-so-little crush on you. This didn't stop him from acting like a perv but still.

The cameras had been up for a while, and honestly, watching those videos back was way better than watching porn. Shigaraki looked so sweet and desperate. The way he laid in your bed afterward, holding your pillow, made your heartache for him. He just looked so lonely. You decided it was time to confront him.

"I'm going out for a couple days, guys!" you called, walking out with a backpack on your shoulder.

"I'll miss you, dollface," Dabi called back, blowing a kiss as you laughed at him.

The glare Shigaraki gave him could have dusted him right then and there. You stayed at a cheap motel for a while, watching the cameras. It was pretty nice to finally have some quiet. It didn't take long for Shigaraki to wander into your room with a raging hard-on. You took your time getting home, knowing he'd be there for at least a few hours. You glanced at your phone once in a while, catching two of Shigaraki’s orgasms. You’d hear a strangled cry and see his mouth wide open, eyes squeezed shut, and back arching. He’d coat his chest and your underwear in hot cum. You started to walk faster. Most of the league was asleep as you used your levitation quirk to float silently up the stairs. You opened the door.

“Who knew you were such a perv, Shiggy. All this time, I thought you hated me, but it looks like someone has a little crush on me, ” you said sweetly.

He looked like a deer in headlights, eyes wide as his body froze. A soft whimper left him as his face turned an angry shade of red that matched the head of his cock.

“N-no please, I'm sorry y/n I-i just didn't um ill leave. I'm so sorry, ” he muttered.

He got up, but you pushed him back on the bed.

“Not yet, Shiggy. I have something to show you, ” you said in a singsong voice.

You sat next to him, slinging your left arm around his shoulders. You pulled up the live feed.

“Aww, look at how cute we look right now, Shig, ” you teased.

His face told you that he was terrified.

“Y-you didn’t, ” he tried to fool himself.

“Oh, I did, ” you whispered in his ear.

You heard him sniffle. You slid the bar at the bottom of the screen back to show him what he was doing mere minutes ago.

“No, you can't, ” he choked as tears fell from his eyes, “please don’t show anyone y/n. Please I c-cant. I'm sorry, just don’t show anyone, ” he sobbed, “please don't. I’ll never talk to you again if you want I’ll do anything just don't show anyone, ” he cried.

“Anything?” you questioned.

“Anything, ” he nodded, still crying.

“Well, first of all, ” you said, “you can start by taking me out on a date, ”

He nearly choked as his eyes widened.

“What?” he whispered, wiping his eyes and nose.

“I said that you’re going to take me out on a date, and please use a tissue, ” you said.

He nodded and cleaned up his face the rest of the way.

“And second, you can take off your shirt and bend over the bed with your legs spread, ” you whispered in his ear, pressing a kiss just below it.

He looked confused for a second until his eyes widened, and he did as he was told.

“Now, don't play dumb with me. I know you’ll like this. I've seen you try and finger yourself before, but you did a shit job, and I promise this will be even better, ” you smiled, ruffling Tomura's hair.

He was getting more comfortable with you now, giving a nervous smile and humming when you touched his hair.

You walked back with everything you needed, only to sigh disappointedly, “oh Shiggy, that's not nearly wide enough. I know you can do better than that. Spread your legs more,”

He nodded, eager to please, and nearly did the splits. You giggled and smacked his butt. He jumped, causing you to laugh again.

“You’re so precious. It's a real shame I'm about to turn you into a slutty mess, ” you cooed.

He felt two slimy fingers press against his hole, and he shuddered. He tried to relax and let you press into him. It didn't take very long to get him moaning, bucking against your fingers. Two became three, and three became four before you decided he was ready. You were looking forward to eating him out, but this was supposed to be a punishment. You lined him up, rubbing the head against his hole that was still clenching around nothing. You pushed the entire thing inside of him as he screamed.

You scoffed, “do you know how many people you just woke up? Do you want the whole league to know you're getting pegged as punishment for being a disgusting, perverted slut? You want them to know that I'm fucking your ass? Huh? Do you? Cause I'll bend you over the fucking bar and show them who you submit to, ”

You started thrusting at a brutal pace. Tomura pushed his face into the pillow only for you to levitate him so he couldn't do anything to stop all the sounds coming out of his mouth. You were looking forward to all the looks you'd get as you smirked, and he struggled to sit next to you. You managed to go even harder.

“You’re not sitting or walking this week, Shiggy, ” you cooed.

“No, ” he choked out, “n-no call me Tomura p-please, ” he moaned.

“Tomura, ” you whispered in his ear, “pretty name for a pretty boy, ”

You reached around and twisted his nipple, causing him to cry out. Tomura only got louder as you reached around and grabbed his balls another hand-squeezed his tip between two fingers and pinched gently before jerking him instead. He was losing it now, tongue hanging out, and eyes rolled back. Little screams were ripped from him, and he jerked around.

“Y/n ‘m gonna, ‘m gonna cum, ” Tomura slurred.

“You gonna cum for me, Tomu? Go on, do it, ” you encouraged.

He cried out, his body going rigid as he shot cum out of his cock. He was gasping and panting as you let him flop down on the bed and pulled out.

“C-can you help me back to my room, ” he whispered, looking sad.

“No, ” you said as he frowned, eyes watering again, “because you're staying with me tonight. Get in bed, ”

He blushed and crawled into the corner. You yanked him closer, taking over as the big spoon.

“Goodnight, Tomura, ” you said. Kissing his back and shoulders, you rubbed his stomach and chest, “you're so pretty, baby. I forgive you. It’s obvious you’ve never had a crush on a girl before, and I think you learned your lesson, ” you said, rubbing his sore ass.

He nodded, “I'm sorry, I just didn't know what to do, ” he mumbled.

“I know, sweetie, ” you whispered, “I know. Was what we did ok? Did you like it?”

He nodded, “I liked it, ” he whispered.

“Do you need anything, ” you asked.

He shook his head, “just tired, ”

“Alright, baby, just get some sleep, love, ” you said.

He nodded as you both found an absurd amount of comfort in being so close to each other. You slept like a baby. You woke up to him gazing at you lovingly, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

He kissed your forehead, “I hope you know you're never getting rid of me, ” he smiled.

He kissed you, “y’know I'm kind of disappointed you didn't kiss me last night, ” he pouted.

“Mmm, I was too busy fucking you, sorry sweetie, ” you said, kissing him again.

“You enjoyed your ‘punishment’ a little too much, but having to go downstairs should be punishment enough, ” you grinned.

He groaned, “please don't make me. Let me stay in my room forever y/n, ”

“No, can do Tomu, you need breakfast, ” you said.

You walked downstairs, sitting at the bar and eating your breakfast. No one else was up yet, or so you thought until you heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

“You're not dead?” Dabi asked, completely dumbfounded.

“No dumbfuck, I'm not dead. Why the hell would I be dead?” he snapped.

“I dunno maybe cause you were screaming from y/n’s room all nigh- oh no. Oh god I think I'm gonna be sick, ” he fake gagged.

All you did was laugh at him.

“You two are disgusting, y’know that?” he said.

“We know, ” you smiled eating the rest of your breakfast.

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mountswhore · 3 years

Text

𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 — mason mount

summary: after your breakup, mason realises just how much you need him. and how much he needs you too.

warnings: mentions of drinking, slight mentions of drugs, swearing, angst

requests are open!

It had been a month since your breakup, and you were at an all time low. But you couldn’t let Mason or anyone else know that. Luckily, you lived alone. So you had your own flat to mope about in, before painting on your fake smile and leaving for whatever errands you had that day. Your breakup was… unfair. Mason treated you like a toy, thinking he could just drop you and then pick you up just as quick. But you weren’t having it anymore.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” you laughed in disbelief at the words your boyfriend was spewing, “you’re really doing this to me, again?” Mason just stood with a stone cold face in front of you, in the comfort of his own living room.

“Y/N, believe me when I say I didn’t want to do this.” Mason consoled, taking a step forward. “You’re a distraction to my career, I barely see you. What would be the point of this anymore?” His words were like bullets, your chest full of holes and you were bleeding on the floor. But Mason was just staring back at you.

“I’m a distraction to your career. Lovely.” You mentioned, pushing past him and grabbing your bag from the stairs. Mason tried to stop you, he wanted to talk this out. “For the love of God, stop trying to hold me back. What is there to say? Or do you just want to ease your conscience? If you’re going to break up with me, be a man and own it. Leave me alone.”

With that you left, and you hadn’t spoken since.

You were going to meet a good friend for lunch, a WAG, but your breakup with Mason didn’t affect your friendship. She was adamant on it, saying, “just because Mason dumped your fine ass, doesn’t mean I can’t be friends with you. He’ll just have to deal with it.” You’d gone to your usual place, waiting in the foyer for her before booking a table together.

“How’ve you been, doll?” Abigail asked, putting her bag down beside her. “You know, considering.” You nodded, putting your fake smile to good use.

You let out a small giggle. “Good, yeah. I’ve been focusing on my work, which I should’ve been doing from the jump. I think I’m really making progress.” Abigail just nodded and smiled.

She didn’t seem the least bit frightened to say what she said, as she’d heard how you felt. “Good, because you’re coming to a party this weekend.”

“What?”

“A party.”

“Yeah I heard you,” you groaned, “are we sixteen- years old? Or am I just growing quicker than the rest of you?”

“Oh shh,” Abigail sighed, digging into her food that had now arrived with yours. Every time you came here, she got the carbonara. “Look, you said you’re making progress, and I want to have fun with my best friend again. And if I’m honest, all the other girls just aren’t as good of a laugh as you.”

“Thanks for the ego boost.” You added, smiling a genuine smile at her. You were still thinking heavily about this party, where was it? When was it? Who was going?

“Clear your weekend. It’s this Saturday, at some private lounge in London.” Abigail stated, twirling her fork once again. “It’s the England squad celebrating something or another, I don’t know. Dec told me about it.” The reason the pair of you were so close, was mainly because of your boyfriends being so close. Declan knew that his girlfriend was still friends with you and planned on keeping that, he’d always ask about you.

“Right. I’ll see if I can work overtime on Thursday to make up for my weekend off.” You mentioned.

So it was settled. You’d be going to a party with Abigail and the England squad. You weren’t the least bit excited, the only fraction you were was purely because you’d be seeing Abigail. You had your dress, you’d worked your overtime, and you were on your way to this private lounge in London. No matter how nice looking this lounge was, you’d always feel out of place. You were wearing your nicest dress, tallest heels, and Abigail had even done your hair and makeup.

“How are you, Y/N? You doing okay?” Declan asked, in the seat beside Abigail. You were sharing a taxi, Abi in the middle. Both you and Dec on either end. It was quite awkward, to see Declan. To know that he still speaks to Mason.

“Yeah, I’m doing good. How’s football going for you?” You asked. You despised small talk, it make you want to throw up. But it was only being polite to Dec. Declan mumbled a similar answer and paid attention to his phone. A text from Abigail appeared.

I don’t think she’s okay.

Declan wrote back to his girlfriend: I was thinking the same thing.

The three had gotten to the private lounge, Abi promising to not leave your side. You spent the first hour with her, constantly drinking to increase your confidence. Abi had finally left you, like you knew she would, but you weren’t mad. She’s here for her boyfriend, it’s only right she spends it with him. So now you were the loner at the bar, downing shot after shot.

Mason was sulking around like a shadow, holding tightly onto his mixer and speaking to some of his teammates. He’s not even sure why he came, all he knew was Declan forced him. And yet Declan had barely spoke to to him all evening. His mixer was empty, so he made his third beeline for the bar this evening. And saw you.

His heart had began beating irregularly, clammy hands almost dropping the cup he had. Why was he so nervous to see the ex he dumped? Luckily, you were occupied with talking to Jesse, so he could quickly grab his drink and leave. He found himself staring at you during his wait, how you laughed so genuinely with Jesse. You always did. He was one of your closest friends and now talking to him felt awkward because of your breakup. You looked at Jesse so happily, he wished it was him. It was a stupid thing to wish, considering he dumped you.

What had dumping you even done for him?

“Mount. Whatever the hell has happened to you outside of training, undo it. You’re off today.”

“Mase, why haven’t you been as on par as you usually are?”

“You keep playing like this and you’re being benched next game.”

Nothing. The answer was nothing. He was told he wasn’t playing well, saw you as an issue and dumped you. And now he plays worse. He’d been benched on his second game, overlooked by his manager due to his lack of focus in training. It was horrible. But you told him to leave you alone, he could never forget the look on your face. The look of exhaustion, of being dumped and picked back up again.

Mason had zoned back in, seeing you looking at him rather lazily. You looked drunk, high, or both. Jesse had gone, and you were throwing the shots back. You made it a game. Every time you had a good Mason thought, you’d have a shot. If it was bad, or any thought at all, you’d be having your stomach pumped by the end of the night.

Mason watched the bartender pour straight vodka into your cup, and then watched you stagger away to the stairs. The stairs led up to toilets, and were empty and quiet. Perfect. You collapsed onto the stairs, still sipping on your vodka before laying your head onto a step. You didn’t know Mason had followed you until you felt his hands on your arms.

“Come on, we’re going home.” He declared, holding you around your waist. You frowned at him, trying your best to use your half-working limbs to push him away from you.

“We’re? No, you are going home. I’m staying here.” You slurred, downing the rest of your drink and throwing the cup at his head. You laughed at the face he made, finally freeing you and you returned to your seat on the stairs. “You aren’t my dad, or my boss, or my friend. So leave me alone.”

“You’re off your face. So you’re going home.” He reaffirmed with you, folding his arms. You just shook your head again, looking up at him. You were having good Mason thoughts again, seeing just his face stare down at you. It made you want to cry and throw up.

“Get me a drink.” Mason left after your instructions, returning with a cup. You had downed it, waiting for the warm throat and slight burn. But nothing. “Not water, you asshole.” Mason kept a stone cold face with you, resting against the wall beside the door. Nobody had come into the toilet and you wished they had now. You needed someone to save you from happy Mason thoughts.

“So how is football? You must be scoring goals left and right.” You jested, tipping your head back and laughing. “Right?” Mason sat down beside you in defeat, knowing this wouldn’t be an easy conversation with you. It would end in you crying, or leaving, or both.

“No, actually.” Mason admitted. “I’m doing rubbish. My friends know I’m off my game, the gaffer knows I’m off my game. It’s atrocious.” You stared at him, kind of feeling bad but then remembering what he did to you. All those times he’d break up with you, just to say he missed you a few days later. If you were being honest with yourself, you thought it would happen again. But a month had passed, and nothing.

“Oh.” It was all you could say. Knowing what he did was for no reason, it had no benefits whatsoever. Your life had been completely thrown out of balance for nothing. It made you mad all over again. “So you’re telling me you broke up with me, and nothing good came of it?”

Mason hated to admit it. “Yes.” He spoke quietly, ashamed of the answer he was putting out there. “I was actually told to fix whatever happened outside of training, in an effort to make me better again.” You should be laughing in his face, glad he’s been royally fucked over after he royally fucked you over. But instead, you held your hands to your face to hide your tears.

“Hey,” Mason hushed, pulling you into his side. He knew you’d had a lot to drink, so maybe your emotions were all over the place, “don’t cry about it, you don’t need to be upset.” Why was he being like this? He broke up with you, why did he care how you were now?

“What’s happened to us?” You cried, pulling away from him. Just because you were at a low, doesn’t mean he can swoop in. “Ever since we broke up, it seems our lives have been shit.”

Mason laughed through the pain, resting his elbows on the step behind him. He’d tried to avoid his feelings instead of confront them, but it proved difficult when you had showed up. “I might be benched for the next game, or better yet, be taken from the squad.”

You shook your head. No matter how much you hated him at this very point, you couldn’t deny the man’s talent. “You deserve that spot on the team. There’s a reason you start for England every time. Don’t doubt yourself because something bad happened to you.”

Mason took your words and remembered them, keeping them in his head for the rest of the night. “Come here.” He put an arm around you and held you tight, sighing as your heads rested together. “I’m sorry I did this to you. I shouldn’t have left you, I had issues with myself and saw you as the problem instead. I’m really sorry.”

“I just don’t think I can take it again.” You confessed, laying your head in his lap and keeping your eyes closed. “I can’t take being broken up with again, only for you to end up in my bed a few days later. It hurts me everytime, Mase.” Mason was rubbing your back, hating himself for the way he made you feel before. And he hadn’t seen an issue with it, he treated you like it was okay to use you as an emotional rag doll.

“You don’t have to jump straight into it,” he whispered, hands now smoothing your hair out of your face, “you can take as long as you need to trust me again. But I’m telling you it’ll never happen again, I’ll never throw you about like I did before. It was reckless of me and I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Mase.” You sighed, the weight finally freeing your chest. You could finally move forward with your life, and choose whether or not to take Mason with you. It wasn’t an answer you needed to know now, it could take it’s time. And Mason was willing to wait.

#money mase #mason mount x reader #mason mount smut #mason mount imagine #mason mount blurb #mason mount

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leetotters · 3 years

Note

could you do a peter parker x reader where she can control her hair? and it can be any length she wants but prefers the length mid thigh and its and its unbreakable? so like fury asks if anyone in the team knows anyone they could recruit and he suggests her and all the avengers go meet her at a tailors shop she owns while she's cleaning and she shows her powers? please and if you do it, thank you

note: i hope you meant the powers to be reader's hair bc that's what i used it as lmao. also i used the gif because this is kinda how rocket got smacked with your hair. thank you for requesting<3

warnings: kissing, curse words

peter parker x reader

summary: something like request^

The swooshing of the broom and the melody of a random song played through the speakers of your tailor shop while you swept the floor. The small lengths of wool and silk thread tangling on the broom bristles as you scooped it up. The racks and unwanted pieces of cloth laid on the marble floor making you let out a sigh of exhaustion.

A knock on your glass showcase window made you jump. The movement making your hair disentangle from the neat twist plait. You lowly cursed as your hair touched the floor, the belly laugh behind the window noted you that your bestfriend was the person responsible for your little mishap.

"Couldn't you ring the bell like a normal person!" You annoyingly exclaimed, closing your eyes and controlling your hair to stop at mid-thigh length. Your preferred length. You picked your broom up and teasingly shook your head when Peter told you open the door. "I think I'm gonna leave you outside tonight, just for scarring the life out of me and my hair."

You resumed your previous activity, counting the numbers in your head until you heard the lock on your ceiling window open. The sound of Peter's displeased voice and childish complains filling your storage room.

"Can't keep me outside Y/L/N, I'll always find a way." He proudly dusted his shirt, taking the scoop from your hand while you grabbed the racks and placed them in your extra closet.

"Thanks to your super spidey powers." You teased, thanking him when he returned the dustpan. "Anyway, why are you here?" You inquired, curious why your best friend decided to stop by your little, tailor shop.

"Well I- wait," Peter scrunched his brows. "Can I not drop by to visit my bestfriend?" He sassed, hand on his hip giving you a quizzing look.

"Oh please Peter, you only stop by when you need something." You remarked, returning a pointed stare before you began to reorganize the formal wear you were currently adapting. "And that something is usually to stitch those huge ass holes in your spidey suit."

Peter didn't respond immediately, because you were right. He did stop by your shop for you to mend his suit. Because one, he loved your company. And two, you were the only person who knew his secret other than the avengers, Ned and MJ.

"Fine! fine!," He huffed. Not so discreetly looking over his shoulder as if he was giving someone a signal. "You're right-"

"I always am Parker." You boasted, using the ends of your hair to move the sewing machine and pins to there rightful place.

"Yeah- okay, but I really came to tell you life changing news!" Peter amazed, a gasp leaving his lips when he saw the movement of your hair. It never ceased to amaze him how your hair was basically magical. Being able to move stuff with your command, grow at whatever length you wanted, heal others and even be unbreakable. Epic, really.

"And what is this so great news-"

The words didn't leave your lips properly as your tailor shop entry door was suddenly yanked open. Your door handle and lock was surely broken, at the loud eerie sound of a metal crunching noise.

"Get out of my way Tony!" Stephen scowled.

"Shut it wizard dude, I'm the leader here not you." Tony rolled his eyes, removing the pair of expensive shades from his face.

"Since when? Fury sent all of us Tony." Rhodey said, dusting his shoulder.

"I wonder how much she makes in this shop, not much I bet." Steve scrunched his face, eyeing your little shop.

"Did we really have to bring Groot?" Clint groaned, flicking baby Groot off of his shoulder when he tried to grab one of his arrows.

"He's a baby, Clint. We can't leave him at the compound alone." Gamora remarked, tickling Groot's tree stomach as she picked him up.

"Okay if she does joins us, we will have to ask her to design new clothing! Look at this!." Wanda marveled, showing off the mid thigh silk dress.

"I should get this for the recruiting party Tony is planning for her." Natasha thought out loud.

"What the fuck!" You yelled, glaring at the talkative avengers standing before you. Looking mighty and high as always. "I just fixed that lock dude!" You whined, sighing gallingly when you saw the chunk of metal by Thor's feet. "You're repairing my lock, hammer man."

"Ah yes, I will have the Man of Iron restore your brittle lock Lady.."

"Y/N."

"Lady Y/N." Thor smiled.

Peter let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his ear and looking at you sheepishly. "Surprise?"

"Surprise my ass Parker! Why are the avengers in my tailor shop and why is this raccoon trying to cut my hair?!" You moved your hair with your mind, smacking the animal avenger with your y/h/c locks.

"Woah, did she just-" Bucky froze, mouth agape.

"Control her hair to hit Rocket, yeah." Peter Quill laughed at his co guardian misfortune.

"Okay her hair is very much un- unbreakable," Rocket coughed out, holding his stomach. "And strong."

"I am Groot." ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ᵇᵃᵈᵃˢˢ

"You can not say that word Groot, but I do agree with you." Gamora smirked, finger bumping the cute tree.

You were mad, really fuming. You spent two hours cleaning and by the looks of it you'll have to do it a second time. So yeah, you wanted an explanation.

"Okay don't get upset." Peter spoke calmly. Holding his hand out and gesturing towards the superheroes infront of you, who had the same impressed expression on their fanciable faces.

"This is the life changing thing I was talking about," He paused with a smile. "You're joining the Avengers!"

"What?" You were officially bamboozled, with everything. One minute you were simply tidying your shop and next, half of the avengers are occupying your shop. Quarreling and interfering with your stuff.

And not to ignore the fact that your best friend just blurted out four questionable words to you.

"You're going to be an Avenger, Rapunzel." Tony repeated, strutting to you with short steps. "If you want to of course, sidey here told us your hair power thingy and though I was a little iffy about it at the beginning, it looks like your power is truly powerful." Tony patted your shoulder. Looking over at Rocket, who was being assisted by Drax.

"As much as I would like to say it's an honor to be in your presence," You said. Controlling your hair to grow back at mid-thigh. "Why?" You faced Peter, inquiring him with the plain word.

Peter shrugged, giving you a bashful look. "Fury asked if we knew anyone who could be recruited, and without thought I suggested you." He sighed, feeling completely awful for the situation he put you in.

"And I know, I should've asked you first but I know how much you adore helping others and the money here isn't enough for your college tuition Y/N." Peter ignored the awkward silence in the room that was loud seconds ago before continuing. "I thought this would be a way to assist you."

You physically softened at his words. He was too kind and caring for his own good. You could never be upset with this idiot boy.

"I'm sorry-"

Peter didn't finish. His apology was muffled by your lips pressed deeply to his frowny pink ones. He was slighty awestruck, the feeling of your lips were breathtaking. He swore he could kiss you forever. His hands found your waist pulling you in closer, even including a little tongue movement inside your mouth.

As if reality kicked in, a teasing 'ohhh' sound came from a few avengers. Causing you to shyly pull away from Peter, who loudly groaned at the lost contact of your plump lips.

"Looks like Spidey is getting a little too handsy." Sam quipped, chuckling when Peter told him to shut it and hid his face in the crook of your neck.

"So is this a yes?" Peter hopefully asked.

You feigned ponder. "Yes."

Peter pecked your lips, mumbling a short 'yay' attempting to deepen the kiss.

"That's enough smooching spiderling." Steve uttered, obviously not enjoying the PDA.

A beeping sound came from Tony's watch altering the team about an upcoming mission.

"Looks like we gotta go," Tony spoke with a serious voice before turning to you. "Glad to have you on the team Rapunzel."

"It's Y/N." You corrected.

"Okay, I'll send some people by tomorrow to pick up your stuff. See ya soon, Rapunzel." Tony winked, exiting your tailor shop.

"He's not gonna give that up." Peter laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"I oddly don't mind." You responded, waving bye to the others. "Thank you Pete."

Peter grinned. "I didn't quite hear that, say it a little louder baby."

"Thank you mister Parker." You kissed his lips, playfully rolling your eyes. But you weren't that distracted to miss Thor stealthily trying to leave your shop.

"Hey hammer God! Don't forget to fix my lock."

"I will have Stark right on it Lady Rapunzel!"

#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter fanfic #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker x y/n #avengers x reader #peter parker x you #peter x reader #avengers x you #lee writes short fics

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enthusiasticharry · 3 years

Text

Second Best

summary: you and Harry meet at a party, but he seems to take more interest in your sister than in you, and you won't be Second Best.

author’s note: bonjour mes chéris!! this is the first instalment of hannah being the history/french student she is and merging all three of her worlds and creating her own little fictional one. this is based off of lousia may alcott’s little women (one of may favourite books ever) but with my own little twist on it. this is set in the 1860′s during the civil war but i haven't made it too historical at all. i have done all of the translations myself and even though i'm semi-fluent i still make mistakes so if you spot any let me know. this is so long so i'll shut up now, thanks for all the support bye!! <3

word count: 16k of good old fashioned marriage talk (there’s a lot of it, its all they spoke about tbf??), fluff, angst and a lil’ smut. there is marriage and children at the end (woo, exciting!) not proofread because my eyes are already asleep.

masterlist | speak to me about second best here!

“Stand up straight, don’t slouch. You have a tendency to do so, and these people will not tolerate it.” You sister, Lizzie, says as she pushes her arm between yours, walking you towards the fancy house in front of the two of you, “Whatever you do, don’t speak about your art at all. Nobody can stop you once you’ve started. Do speak if you’re spoken too, and if you’re asked to dance, dance.”

You shake your head, “But I don’t want to dance.”

“You will dance.” Lizzie says again, squeezing your arm slightly, “You may find yourself a husband if you act proper enough.”

“I shouldn’t have to act proper just to find a husband, Lizzie.” You scoff, shaking your head, “If they don’t love me, oil paints and all, then I don’t want them. I don’t think I’ll ever find a husband.”

“Oh shush with you.” She says, tapping your arm slightly. It didn’t hurt, but it did cause your lips to part in shock, “How lovely would it be if father returned and you were married! It would make his life.”

“I think he’d have a heart attack.” You mutter, removing your arm from around hers as you stand outside of the door you were going to walk through in mere minutes, “I’m his little girl, you are also, Lizzie. If we were both to be married I’d think we’d kill him off.”

“You shouldn��t joke about that.”

“I’m not joking. I truly believe that would happen.” You deadpan.

She scoffs and slips her arm through yours this time, using her free hand to ring the bell. A man wearing one of the fanciest suits you’ve ever seen in your life opens the door, allowing the two of you to slip through. You help Lizzie remove her shawl, whilst she does the same to you. The man hangs them up amongst the array of other jackets. You lips part in shock at the sight of the house you were in, the first thing your eyes falling upon being the large staircase, with paintings littering the walls. For once, you were speechless, unable to control your excitement and want to gawk at the art upon the wall.

“Lizzie!” You gasp, gripping her arm tightly, “Look at the—”

“Don’t you dare say paintings!”

“Lizzie!” You groan again, pulling her arm so that she’s looking your direction, “Look at them.”

“I’m looking at them.” She lifts her eyes to look at the wall you were looking at, where the pieces hung with such grace and elegance, “They don’t seem too spectacular.”

A shocked gasp escapes your lips, “Take that back, Lizzie! They are beautiful!

“If you say so.”

She removes you from your awe of the paintings and pulls you towards the ballroom. There’s people everywhere, the most amount of people you think you’ve ever seen in your life. You watch as they mingle with glasses of Champagne in their hands, the expensive material of their dresses sparkling in the light from the chandelier. Men stood wooing the women before them, flicking their suit jackets and inviting them to dance. The dresses the women were wearing were something out of dreams. You weren’t the biggest fan of dresses, in fact, you lived in trousers around the house, but you couldn’t help feeling embarrassed about your tattered dress. You’ve had the dress for a year or so, and the holes and rips and anything else you’d manage to do to the material could be seen in the light even if you’d fixed it.

“Lizzie!” The call comes from somebody who you don’t recognise, but Elizabeth certainly did and before the syllables of her name could escape your lips, she’s gone. You watch as your sisters whisked away with the crowd, leaving you stood there with no clue as to what to do.

Gripping the material of your dress, you slip yourself to stand by one of the doorways, away from the hustle and bustle of everyone in the room, but close enough for you to be able to watch. Lizzie stands in the middle, just as she always is, with a group of people around her. She was always the centre of attention, the one that everyone loved — you included. You were only a few years younger than her, but you were the only siblings each of you had, so you were close. You had your disagreements, that was certain, but you always came back stronger. You weren’t shocked when you noticed her spinning around holding some man’s hand, dancing away with a smile on her face that always made your insides happy. If she was happy, you were happy.

“Not one for dancing?” You eyes almost bulge out of your head as you hear a voice next to you, a male one at that.

“Oh, um, not really.” You laugh, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I’m not a very good dancer. I don’t really like dancing, to be completely honest.”

“Everyone loves dancing.” The man says, and you’re able to get a good look at him. A black suit, with a crisp-white shirt sits upon his torso. His hair was a fluffy brown, a chestnut that you found yourself in awe of. His green eyes ones of masterpieces, better than any art you could ever see upon any wall in any gallery, “I believe you are just lying.”

“I am not.” You shake you head, “My sister told me that if anyone asked me to dance I must say yes, but I have decided that I mustn’t. I have two left feet and anyone who is to ever dance with me will regret it, I know of it.”

“I highly doubt that.” He shakes his head, sipping from the glass he had in his hand, “Your sister shouldn’t force you do dance either.”

“Oh.” You shake your head, “Lizzie isn’t forcing me to dance, she just wants the best for me. Dancing is how people meet.”

“It’s how we met.” He says after a few seconds.

You let out a small chuckle, running your tongue over your lips slightly, “Sir, pardon me, but I don’t even know your name.”

“Harry.” He smiles, “M’names Harry.”

“Oh!” You exclaim again, “Harry Styles! You’ve just moved in next door with your father! Mother saw you the other day.”

“You must be—”

“—YN YLN.” You hold your hand out for him to shake, immediately shaking your head and pulling it back, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Styles, Lizzie forgot to remind me to not shake hands. It’s not very ladylike, I know.”

“It’s perfectly okay.” He holds his hand out, and you bite your lip and shake it, “And please don’t call me Mr. Styles. I’m not my father. Call me Harry.”

“Harry.” The name slips from your lips, “I think Lizzie would die if she saw me talking to you.”

“If I may, would you show me Lizzie?” He asks and you nod.

You nod and turn back to the crowd, fluttering your eyes across all of the people in hopes to spot your sister. She was wearing red, the colour which suited her the most in your opinion, so she wasn’t too hard to spot. She was dancing in the middle of the room with a man with blonde hair, a suit similar to the one that Harry was wearing upon his body. She looked happy, and the sight caused a smile to flutter across your lips.

“She’s in the middle there.” You say, nodding your head in the girls direction, “The one in the red dress.”

You turn to look at Harry and once his eyes fall upon your sister, you can tell that the whole world stops around him. His lips part, his eyes widen and if you look closely you can see the reflection of the red dress in his eyes. You’re unsure how long he’s staring at her, but you’re staring at him for the exact same amount of time.

“It’s a. . .” He fumbles with his words after a few seconds, lifting his hands to scratch the back of his neck, “It’s a beautiful dress.”

“It is.” You agree, “Mother let her save up her allowance to buy the material. I should’ve done the same but I spent mine on paints.”

“You paint?” His raises his eyebrow, finally looking back at you.

You nod, “I love to.”

“Then you have every right to spend your money on paints.” He says, and you try to hide the heat that falls upon your cheeks, “You dress is perfectly swell

“It’s not beautiful though.”

“It’s swell, YN.” He reminds you again, “I’m sure you’ll get a beautiful dress at some point.”

Then you’ve lost him. You’re not surprised, though. Everyone prefers Lizzie to you, it’s just how it’s always been. You watch the back of him as he walks towards your sister, taking the world in his stride behind him as he does so. You watch as she courtesy’s for the man she has just danced with, and before Lizzie can go anywhere, she’s scooped up to dance with Harry. Maybe if you had bought the Emerald material your mother had wanted you to, Harry would be dancing with you right now instead of Lizzie. Maybe if you hadn’t been so against dancing in the first place he might’ve asked you to dance.

No, you wouldn’t stoop to that level for a man of all people. If Harry didn’t want to dance with you, ‘swell dress’ and all then you weren’t going to change yourself, no matter how much you wanted to, for a mere man.

“YN!” Lizzie delightful glee of your name came after their dance had died down. Lizzie came bouncing towards you, a just as bashful Harry following behind her, “Harry has offered to take us home in his carriage!”

“Now?” You ask, your heart hopeful that they’d both say yes.

Lizzie turns to look at Harry who shrugs his shoulders slightly, “If the two of you want to, we can.”

“Oh no.” Lizzie places her hand upon his shoulder, “We couldn’t dare take you away from the festivities. We will wait until you’re finished.”

“I’m ready to leave myself, Miss YLN.” He says to Lizzie, the same heat falling upon her cheeks as you had felt earlier.

“Please. Call me Lizzie.”

“Okay, Lizzie.” He grins, “I’ll just go fetch the carriage, see you by the front door?”

Lizzie nods, and you give him a small smile and watch as he walks towards the door. You try not to stare as he shrugs on his coat but it’s hard to, and you know that Lizzie is feeling the exact same way that you are.

“Oh YN.” She gushes, turning to you and placing her hands upon your shoulder, “He’s a perfect gentlemen.”

“Is that so?” You ask, walking towards the door also to fetch your shawl, shrugging it on your shoulders.

“It is.” She copies your actions with her own, “He asked to dance, saying that you were the one to introduce me to him. I can’t thank you enough, dear sister.”

“It’s no issue.” You shake off, turning away from her so that she can’t see the fall in your face, “He seemed to take a fancy to you once I’d pointed you out from the crowd.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes.” You nod your head, turning to look at her. Her shawl was scraggly thrown upon her body, probably from how distracted she was, and you lean forward to sort it for her whilst she gleams over your shoulder at nothing. You wonder if this is what it was like to meet your husband, butterflies and distractions from that moment on. It hadn’t happened yet for you, and seeing the way Lizzie was acting, you decided that you didn’t really want it happen, “Couldn’t take his eyes off you, sweet one.”

She squeals and wraps her arms around you, squeezing you slightly. You were happy that she was happy, and you wouldn’t take that away from her.

The door opened, revealing a blushed faced Harry due to the cold outside, “Ready?”

“YN!” Your mother calls from the floor below you, “Can you please come and set the table?”

You groan and remove your paintbrush from your canvas. The day prior you had been given a small sum of money from your Aunt Jemima after visiting and immediately gone to the store in town to pick up some new canvases. It was heaven to receive little amounts of money like these and you almost always spent it on canvases so you wouldn’t have to use paper, which was the cheaper alternative that you had to buy.

“I’m a little busy!” You call back, moving so that you can shout out of your door, “Can you ask Lizzie?”

“She isn’t here!” Your mother calls back and you groan. You place your palette down on the table beside you, as well as your brushes in the pot of water you had brought up with you. You wipe your hands on your apron before pulling it over your head and off your body. You drape it over your bed carefully, being careful to not get anything on the linen.

You bounce down the steps, tucking your hair that falls down in ringlets by the side of your face behind your ear. Entering the kitchen, you place a kiss to your mother’s cheek. She stands over the side, chopping some vegetables that she’s going to bring to boil for your dinner. She greets you with a smile and continues chopping.

“Is Lizzie with Harry?” You ask, placing the cutlery beside each mat on the table, noticing that there were four like there had started to be now.

“Of course she is.” Your mother shakes her head, “They’re always somewhere causing trouble.”

You had to suppress your grin. Lizzie had been the good girl of the family for so long, always doing everything that was asked of her and your were the one who tended to ignore requests so that you could continue doing whatever you wanted to. Since Lizzie had met Harry, that had been completely flipped upside down. You were the good girl of the family who did everything that was asked of you, and Lizzie was the one always getting out of doing things by sneaking off with Harry.

Since the two had met just over two months ago, they had been inseparable. When the two of you weren’t being taught how to read and write by your mother, Lizzie was always somewhere doing something with Harry. The other week he had taken her to the theatre and words couldn’t explain how jealous you were. You and Lizzie did everything together, and you always had done, but now you felt second best to someone who she hardly knew. You knew a part of you was jealous, but you would never admit that. What you did admit to yourself was that you were lonely and missing your sister.

“Is Harry staying for supper?” You ask, filling up the water jug to be placed upon the table.

“I’m guessing so.” Your mother says, moving to bend down by the fire to check on the meat, “It’s ready. Will you go get them? I think they’re by the river.”

You nod your head, moving to the front door to retrieve your shawl and boots. They were always at the river, as though it was there place. You couldn’t understand for the life of you why they’d chosen that place out of all, especially during the winter months. Snow was just around the corner and the two of them decided to spend their days moments away from catching a cold by the river.

The walk itself was five or so minutes through the woods behind your house, watching your step for fallen branches and wild animals. Lizzie was usually the one who brought you to the lake, so it was a given that you hadn’t been in a while.

Once the trees start to disperse, you stand in the middle of the opening to try and spot them. You do, quite quickly in fact. They’re stood by the water, picking up stones every now and then to skim across it, rippling the stillness with their movements. Skimming stones felt like a normal thing to see people doing, but once you watch Lizzie throw her arms around his neck, you feel like a little portion of you crumbles inside. You hadn’t seen them like this before, and you never ever wanted to see them like that again.

“Lizzie!” You call, snapping them out of their trance so that they turn to look at you. Lizzie immediately removes her arms from around Harry’s neck.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No.” You shake your head, “Mother just asked me to collect the two of you for supper.”

The two nod and move around where they were stood to collect their things but you don’t wait for them. Instead, you turn around and walk back towards the house. You can hear them laughing but you refuse to look back, because you know that you won’t be able to handle it. The temperature drops dramatically as you walk back, and you pull your shawl closer to you to help preserve some heat. You had a suspicion that at some point this evening it would start snowing, which you weren’t too unhappy about. It would give you time to finish the painting you started today, and hopefully create some more.

They aren’t close behind you as you reach the door, so you enter and immediately walk towards the table which is looking a lot fuller than it had been.

“Are they coming?” Your mother asks and you nod, sitting down at the table. They enter a few minutes later, Harry greeting your mother with a kiss on the cheek.

The three join you at the table, Harry next to you, Lizzie next to him and your mother sat next to the spare seat — where your father usually sat. You all join hands in saying grace, your hand feeling completely natural sat in his. The way his encompassed yours was something that will be etched into your brain for the rest of the day, and for the days after that. It isn’t a light hold either, it’s a prominent one, and his fingers squeeze yours tightly. You drop your eyes to your plate, unable to look up at him because you’re unsure of what his features may hold.

You don’t say anything over the dinner, you just listen to their words. It’s all about Harry’s time in London, like it usually was, and the rest about what the two had been up too. Your mother asks the dreaded question, and yet again, you ignore any word that comes out of their mouths.

It was inevitable at this point that Harry and Lizzie, at some point, were going to marry each other. You were surprised that Harry hadn’t proposed yet, if you were honest. If soulmates were a thing, no matter how much it pained you to believe, you wouldn’t be surprised if they were the example. You wouldn’t ever say anything to anyone about this, but you do think a part of you wished that was you in her place. You wished that you were the one that he smiled at, held hands with, kissed upon the cheek as she left.

After the dinner had finished, you had returned up to your room and lit your candle, leaning against the window frame to peer outside. They stood by the gate, Harry’s hand holding hers and her hand holding is. They looked as though they truly loved each other and what you expected to be a measly kiss on the cheek like it usually was, wasn’t that at all. A little part of you died inside when you saw him lean forward and place a kiss upon her lips, his hand lifting up to rest against her cheek. You managed to draw yourself away from the window after you’d watched for a while or so, slipping under your sheets and into your linen, turning so that you’re facing the wall. A few minutes or so later, you hear the door open and the rustling of clothes and you suspect Lizzie gets ready for bed. You try not cry but you can already feel the tears starting to fall down your face.

“YN.” You hear the soft whisper of your voice over the crackle of the candle that was still on in the room, “Are you awake?”

“Yes.” You manage out through the hesitation within your voice.

After a few seconds, and a slight giggles escaping her lips, “He kissed me, YN.”

“Oh.” You try not to sound like you’re upset, “Are you going to marry him?”

“He hasn’t asked me.” She’s quick to say, “But I think he might.”

A month or so later, you’re stood in front of a carriage, one that sits Lizzie inside on her way to Etiquette Lessons. Every young lady in the village had to go to them when they reached a certain age to make sure that they are properly prepared for how to look after their husbands when the day comes. You weren’t quite at the age yet, but Lizzie was.

You had given her a hug, and watched your mother kiss her cheeks and hug her, but you now found yourself watching something that you had seen so many times now. Harry and Lizzie stood by the door of the open carriage, her hands in his as they whisper and chuckle at whatever they’re talking about. You can’t hear what they say, but you can tell it’s emotional from the tears that are running down his face.

You mother wraps her arm around your shoulder, squeezing your shoulder. You wondered if she knew. You hadn’t said anything to her, but she always seemed to know what was going on in your life even if you hadn’t told her anything.

Harry helped Lizzie into the carriage, and closed the door for her before coming to stand next to you. Your eyes fluttered up to look at him for a second, but he didn’t even look anywhere near you, he was watching the carriage as it left. The love of his life was leaving in it, so I’m not surprised he did so.

“Mother.” You say quickly once the carriage had turn off the path, “Can I return and paint?”

“Of course you can.” She places a hand on one of your cheeks and a kiss to the other, “Take Harry with you. He’ll need the company.”

You turn to look at him, and he just shrugs, so you nod. You return back to the house with Harry trailing behind you, looking like a lost puppy. The way his eyes seemed to droop, as well as his hair, all hinted to the fact that he was actually upset that she was leaving. He follows you into the room, and sits on the end of Lizzie’s bed whilst you pulled your paints out of your drawer.

“I’ve only been in here once before.” He says after a few seconds, running his hand over the linen of her sheets, “You were out. Something about Aunt Jemima.”

“Oh.” You start to face place some of your paints upon your palette, “I read to her, sometimes, and she pays me so I can buy paints. I’m hoping that one day she’ll take me to Europe with her.”

“Europe?” He asks, “You want to go?”

“More than anything.” You sigh, swirling your brush in the green paint you had just placed upon your palette, “More specifically I’m hoping she takes me France. I’ll be able properly practice my art then.”

“Can you not do that here?”

You hesitate for a second, hovering your brush over the canvas slightly, “I’ll be better suited if I go there. People will care more about my work.”

“It’s beautiful work.” He says after a few seconds, “I don’t know how France would change that.”

You think for a second about how to explain this to him, “Think of it like Etiquette school. The girls go and return as better wives than if they hadn’t gone. They would’ve been good wives, but not as good without the school.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

“My art is good without France, just like the wives are without Etiquette class, but they are better with it. My art will be better with France.”

You turn around to see him nod his head, “I think I understand.”

“A part of it is also me wanting to leave this town.” You say, turning back around so that you can place your paintbrush back upon your canvas.

“I cannot fault you for that.” He says, and you turn to him again, only to see that he’s laid back upon the bed, a hand over his eyes, “Sometimes I wish I could leave.”

“Why don’t you?” You ask, “If one of us had the beings necessary to leave it would be you?”

“Beings necessary?” He pushes himself up on his elbow so that he’s looking directly at you, “And what would be those necessary beings?”

“Money, for one.” You say, moving so that you’re sat on your bed, looking straight at him, “Carriages. Knowledge of the world. The furthest I’ve ever gone is the neighbouring town and that was to drop something off for my mother.”

“Why don’t you leave then?”

You chuckle, raising your eyebrows, “I plan on it.”

“Ice Skating.” Harry says as he walks through your bedroom door, holding two pairs of ice skates in your hands.

“Harry!” You exclaim, placing your hand upon your chest at the shocked sight of him, “I could’ve been indecent and you would have never known!”

“But you aren’t.” He tips his head to the side, “Ice Skating. We’re going ice skating. The lake has frozen over and it’s perfect.”

“Are we now?” You ask, placing your palette down upon the table next to your easel, “Is Mr. Styles bored of his mansion.”

“I’m going to loose my mind.” He drops down on your sisters bed, the skates clattering to the floor as he does so, “Please come ice skating with me.”

“Harry.” You sigh, pulling your painting apron off, “I don’t even know how to ice skate.”

“Then I will teach you.” He says.

After a few seconds of contemplation, you nod your head, “I’ll do it if you let me paint you.”

“Deal.”

Over the past two weeks you and Harry had grown close. Not as close as Harry and your sister, but close enough for you to class him as one of your good friends. The two of you had started to do everything together, similarly to him and Lizzie but with some barriers. You hugged each other but you certainly weren’t as touchy deeply as they were with each other. You couldn’t do it to your sister, so you avoided doing anything that would be seen as wrong.

You did feel sorry for Harry. He had told you that he had sent three letters to Lizzie during this time and she hadn’t even replied to one. You weren’t quite sure why, but that was quite despicable on her part. The poor man was making himself sick with how much he was worrying about her, and you were the one who had seen it, and been the one to try and get him out of it. One of the things that you had begged him to let you do was paint him, but he kept rejecting your proposal. Instead, he told you that he liked to enjoy watching you paint rather than having you paint him.

You were excited to say the least that he had agreed to let you paint him, and you certainly weren’t going to miss that opportunity.

“Slow down.” You call to Harry, who’s around ten strides a head of you as you waddle your way with your dress in your hands through the snow, “I can’t keep up with you.”

“Walk faster then.” He says, turning to look at you with a grin across his face.

You groan and try to pick up the pace, nearly slipping a few times on some particularly icy parts of the ground but you make it to the lake in once piece. Harry passes you the skates he had picked up for you and you thank him for passing them to you. You kick your shoes off and fasten the skates, just as he does the same.

“Stay away from the middle.” He says, “It’s thinner than the edge.”

“I think you’re forgetting something.” You say as you try to stable yourself on the blades, “I have not idea what I’m doing.”

“It’s like walking, but on ice.” He deadpans and you resist the urge to roll your eyes, “I’ll let you hold my hand if you want.”

He holds his hand out and without really thinking you place your hand in his, allowing him to guide you onto the ice. His hand was cold, but so was yours, but having his in yours sent little flames across the entirety of your body.

At first you were unsteady on your feet, and you’re sure that you could’ve nearly broke Harry’s hand with how tightly you were squeezing it. He chuckled and made sure that you were continuously upright. After five minutes or so, you found the swing of what you were doing, and managed to move forward without any wobbles.

“I’m letting go of you.”

“No!” You exclaim, gripping his hand tighter so that he wouldn’t be able to pull away from you, “I’ll fall.”

“You won’t fall.” He chuckles, trying to pull his hand away again. “I will.” You shake your head, “Please, don’t.”

“You’re not going to fall.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

He somehow manages to release his hand from yours and skate backwards away from you, leaving you on your own. You hold your hands out, straightening them as though that’s going to help balance you out. With the little momentum you had left, you moved forward slightly until you came to a halt, where you pick up one of your feet to push forward and move forward. You manage to do it, without falling which surprises you.

“Harry!” You exclaimed, beaming at him, “I’m doing it.”

“I told you that you would.” He smiles, tilting his head to the side, “Shall we?”

“We shall.” You smile, and the two of you continue off across the ice.

Everything seems to be going well and good until you manage to catch your blade in a slit in the ice and go tumbling forward, going over on your ankle as you do so. You drop to the ground with a thud, a throbbing immediately falling upon your ankle.

“Harry. . .” His name escapes your lips through the the hiss of pain you let out.

“Are you injured?” He’s quick to ask, skating over to you as quickly as he possible could.

“My ankle.” You say, “I think I’ve sprained it.”

“You probably have.” He’s quick to say, “Lift up slightly, I’ll carry you back home.”

You shake your head, “You don’t have to do that.”

“What are you going to?” He laughs, “Crawl?”

“I might.”

“You wouldn’t make it home for Christmas.” He bends down, “Come here.”

You lift your hand up and wrap your hands around his neck, allowing him to place his hands underneath your knees. He looks at you with a small smile on his face and skates back to the edge of the lake, placing you on the floor for a second so that you could both remove your skates.

“How did you get so good at skating?” You ask, returning to your prior position his arms.

“Home.” He says, “In England. It’s cold year round there, and the lakes are often frozen. My mother taught me.”

“You don’t talk about you mother.”

“She died when I was young.” He says, not looking at you the way that he had been, “I don’t remember a lot about her.”

“I’m sorry.” You say, “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You didn’t.” He shakes his head, “You were merely curious.”

You drop your eyes to the white around the two of you, “My mother says that my curiosity may get me in trouble one of these days.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” He chuckles, “But that’s something that makes you, you.”

Without really thinking, you say the next few words, “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t me.”

He shakes his head, “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” You nod your head, “There’s nothing special about me. I’m no Lizzie YLN.”

“No.” He shakes his head, “You aren’t Lizzie, but you are YN. This world doesn’t need anymore Lizzie’s in it.”

“I thought maybe you’d have a thousands Lizzie’s if you could.”

“I wouldn’t need a thousand if I could have the one.”

“You do have you.”

He shakes his head, “I told her before she went that there was no need for Etiquette classes because to be my wife all I wanted was her. Lizzie wanted to go to get the best experience she possibly could.”

“You respected that?”

He looks directly over you again, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“We all know what actually happens at Etiquette classes, Harry.”

Harry only nods his head once, not saying anything else. He still carries you home, one of his arms rested comfortable under his knee whilst the other rests behind your back. You hoped you hadn’t offended him, but there was no way for you to know.

Etiquette classes, as a whole, were to teach young women the proper ways of being a wife during the day, and through the night thy would attend balls and such. The balls were so the women could hopefully meet eligible, rich men who they were hopefully going to marry. If you were already meant to marry someone else, it didn’t seem like a right thing to go to this place where the people were always after one thing.

As your feelings grew for Harry, you wondered whether Lizzie’s had diminished and that was why she decided to go to the classes. You certainly shouldn’t want that, but you couldn’t lie and say that a part of you did.

“Mrs. YLN?” You mother comes running towards the two of you at Harry’s call of her name, “We’ve had a little accident.”

“What have you done now?”

“I went over on my ankle.” You deadpan.

“Harry will you get me some ice?” He nodded and moved towards the kitchen whilst you mother freed your ankle and rested it upon her knee.

He came back with ice wrapped in a cloth and passed it to your mother who placed it upon your ankle.

“Thank you for bringing her home, Harry.”

“It’s no problem.”

“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“I shouldn’t.” He shakes his head, “Thank you for the offer, though. But I should be returning home.”

“Pass my love onto your father.”

“I will.”

He throws you once last look, one that you can’t quite pinpoint the emotion of. After a few seconds he drops his eyes, and walks out of the door without looking back. You turn to look at your mother, who’s got a skeptical look upon her face as she looks at you.

“What is it?”

“Does he know?”

“Does he know what?”

A small smile crosses her lips, “That you love him.”

You lips part in shock before you clamp them shut, “I. . . I feel no such thing.”

“You had just lied to me, child.” She shakes her head, “I know love when I see it.”

“Mother.” You shake your head, “He loves Lizzie.”

“I know.” She places her hand upon your cheek, “You’ll be the one to pick up the pieces when she breaks his heart.”

Lizzie was due to return home today, on Christmas Eve of all days, and the house certainly looked as though it was ready for her.

You, your mother and Harry had spent quite a while this year decorating the house to be as Christmassy as possible. The thing that you still think about to this day was jumping on Harry’s back so he could lift you up to reach the star, your mother smiling as she watched the two of you.

The carriage returned at around midday. You were stood next to Harry at the end of the garden, with you mother next to him. The carriage came to a halt and the driver was the one to open the door, Lizzie immediately tumbling out and throwing her arms around your mother who had taken a few steps forward.

She didn’t look like Lizzie, in your opinion. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun, the dress upon her body looking more expensive than the ones that she had gone with. The material was a blushed pink colour, with fancy detailing upon the corset and a puffy skirt that was one of the biggest that you had ever seen in your life. Lizzie looks happy to see your mother to say the least, but you’re quite surprised when she moves to you next instead of Harry.

“Hello!” She throws her arms around your shoulder, placing her head on your shoulder whilst you placed yours on hers, the material of her fancy coat hitting your cheek. You hadn’t seen anything quite like it before, never mind felt anything quite like it before, “I’ve missed you so much. How are you?”

“Well, thank you.” You pull away. clearing your throat and wiping your hands upon your skirt slightly, “The same old. It’s you who I should be asking that question to.”

She smiles and pulls away, holding her small bag close to herself as she looks at the person stood next to you. Harry looks as though he’s about to cry, and so does Lizzie if you’re being brutally honest. The two of them needed to be alone, and you understood that. When your mother motioned you to follow her back into the house, you didn’t hesitate with your movements, following her back into the house.

“I feel as though dinner might be late tonight.” You mother says as she closes the door behind you, fumbling to take off her scarf, “I feel like they might be out there for a while. Why don’t you go up and finish your painting?”

You nod your head, not wanting to say anything. You remove your outdoor gear and race up the stairs. You know you shouldn’t, but you immediately run to the window to see whether you can see the two of them, but you’re unable to.

Lizzie looked like a different person, but she sounded like Lizzie when she opened her mouth. The clothes that she wore might have changed but she was still your sister, the same sister who had the man you loved following her around like a lost puppy. Lizzie was the same Lizzie as she always had been, and that meant that she probably did feel the same way about Harry as she did before she left. There was a selfish streak in you that wished that wasn’t the case, and she had completely forgot about her feelings for Harry and had met someone else, but until you properly had a conversation with the girl, you couldn’t be too sure that was the case. You couldn’t be sure either that if that had happened, Harry would want you in that way.

You found yourself unable to paint, so you dropped down upon your bed and sat with your back against the wall, watching the outside world as your thoughts danced around within your head. You found the thoughts spiralling through your head that you were still a young woman at the end of the day, one who could have a line of men wanting to marry you but you instead found yourself second best to your sister, and that shouldn’t be happening. No matter how much you loved the man, or had grown to be accustomed to his company, being second best wasn’t something that you had set your heart on being, and you wouldn’t be for him.

You were the first YLN he had met, yet he had chosen your sister first and he was going to lay in that bed now.

“YN!” You mother called from downstairs, “They’re here.”

Christmas Eve dinner, to say the least, was one that you’d never forget. Harry looked as though he was either going to burst out crying or kill someone at any moment, Lizzie looked exhausted and your mother and yourself were sat in the middle of the two of you trying to make ends meet of what had happened. Harry’s eyes caught yours once, but he was quick to flutter them away and take another forkful of vegetables and place it in his mouth.

“Lizzie, you haven’t told YN and I anything about your time away.” Your mother started, probably not the best topic of conversation but one that would split up the silence hopefully, “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“I did.” She wipes her mouth upon her napkin, “I had an amazing time. Met some amazing people. Actually, there is one person that I’ve invited for you to meet for the new year.”

“You have?” Your mother raises her eyebrow, “How wonderful.”

“His name is Theodore.”

That’s all it takes for Harry’s fork to clatter to the plate, his chair screech across the floor and his body to stand up.

“I’m, uh, truly sorry Mrs. YLN.” He says, “The meal was lovely but I’m not feeling very well so I think it’s best that I go home.”

“Are you alright?”

“I will be.” He nods his head, clearing his throat and scratching the back of his neck, “So sorry again, have an amazing Christmas.”

“You too, Harry.”

Once the doors closed, Lizzie’s the next person to drop her cutlery and sulk off upstairs. The slamming of the bedroom door shakes the whole house. You place another bit of potato into your mouth and slowly chew whilst looking at your mother.

She sighs, “Will you go check on your sister for me?”

“But—”

“You’ll get to see him later, don’t worry.” She says, “I’m going to plate him and his father some food. God knows they won’t eat without it, and you can take it over for me.”

You nod your head, taking a sip from your glass of water before standing up and making your way upstairs. You cam hear Lizzie’s cries before you open the door, and you know that its because of what had obviously happened before the two of them had come to lunch. You push the door open, to see her laid on her bed face down, her head deep within her pillow. You push the door closed behind you and back up until your back is directly placed upon the solid wood.

“Are you engaged to him?” You say, looking down at your shoes so that you don’t have to make eye contact with her.

You can hear the bed creek beneath her as she moves, but you still don’t look up, “To who?”

“To Theodore.”

“No.” You lift your eyes up just as she shakes her head, “I’m not.”

“But you want to be.”

“What makes you think that?”

You scoff and shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest, “You forget that I’m your sister, Lizzie. I know you better than you know yourself.”

After a few seconds, she speaks again, “He’s going to propose.”

“He is?” You take a few steps forward until you’re sat upon your bed, directly across from her, “Why, Lizzie?”

“We’re in love.” She quickly says, her eyes bulging out the way that they do when she starts to get upset, “When you’re in love, you get married YN.”

“I thought you were in love with Harry.”

“I love Harry.” She says, shaking her head, “But I’m not in love with him. I love him as a best friend.”

“He loves you.”

“I know.” She shakes her head, “I just didn’t love him the way I love Theodore. He’s just so kind, and so gentle and he makes me feel things that I just haven’t felt before.”

The way that she stands up immediately makes your mind immediately fall to a place that you know isn’t where it should be. Your eyes widen and she looks at you the exact way that you know that what you thought is right.

“Lizzie.” You voice comes out as a whisper, and you shake your head, “You didn’t.”

“I love him, YN.” She shakes her head, “And he loves me.”

“We always said we’d save that until marriage.” You shake your head, “You told me that’s what you have to do.”

She sits down on the bed next to you, reaching so that her hands are placed upon both of your shoulders, “And you do. Promise me you will, YN.”

“I will.” You quickly say, “I promise, I will.”

“Good.” She sighs, dropping her hands from your shoulders, “You will not end up like me, I won’t let you.”

“How have you ended up?”

She looks at you with tears in her eyes, “I think I’m pregnant, YN.”

You were holding a basket of food that your mother had collated for Harry and his father. You had knocked upon the door once and now you were stood, waiting for someone to open the door and let you in from the cold. The temperature had certainly dropped since you had been outside earlier, but you weren’t surprised at that fact.

“Miss. YLN.” Harry’s father opens the door. You’ve only ever met him once, and from what Harry has told you, he’s quite a cold man, “May I ask why you’re here?”

“Uh, my mother sent you and Harry some food over.” You say, holding up the basket within your hands, “I just came to deliver it.”

“Please.” He says, “Come in.”

You step through the threshold of the house, entering one that was three times the size of your own but just as empty as yours.

“I’ll take that to the kitchen for you.” He says, holding his hands out so you can place the basket within them, “H is upstairs, in the library. Third door on the left.”

“Thank you.”

The stairs themselves were probably bigger than your entire house, and as you ran your hand across the wood of the banister you couldn’t believe how expensive it felt beneath your fingers. You followed Mr. Styles’ instruction and walked along the grand hallway until you found the third door on the left. It was slightly ajar, so you placed your hand upon the wood and push it open, the door creaking as you did so.

Your mouth drops open at the sight of the room in front of you. When Mr. Styles said Library you thought it may have been a small room with bookshelves in it, but it wasn’t, it was a full library at the most. It was full of the most books you’ve ever seen anywhere, floor to ceiling bookshelves. You couldn’t help your want to run your fingers across every single cover.

You spot Harry sat at the window, his knees bent and a book placed open upon them. You cross your hands in front of you, taking a few steps towards Harry. The sound of your shoes against the wooden floor notifies Harry that you’re there, and he lifts his eyes to look at you.

“Are you okay?” He asks, closing the book that he had open.

You take a few more steps towards him, sitting at the opposite side of windowsill to him, “I should be asking you that question.”

He chuckles, lifting his leg up again so that it’s on the windowsill, “I’m okay.”

“I don’t believe that.” You shake your head, coping him so your feet are up also and you’re facing him, “Tell me truthfully. How are you?”

He shakes his head, dropping his eyes down to his knees, “She doesn’t want to marry me.”

“You asked?”

“Today.” He nods, looking back at you again, “I had a ring.”

After a few seconds you whisper, “Can I see it?”

“See what?”

“The ring.”

He opens his jacket and fumbles around in the inside pocket, bringing out a small blue velvet box which he throws towards you. You catch it, nearly dropping it but you manage to keep it in your hands. You raise your eyebrow at him and he offers a small smile, one that you knew wasn’t the most truthful of how he’s feeling.

You open the box and see a beautiful ring in the box. The ring itself was silver, but the thing that drew your and probably Harry to it was the gem. It looked to be diamond, not a large one at that but one that was a lovely sized. The light from the window caused the diamond to glimmer slightly, a gasp escaping from your lips.

“Harry.” You shake your head, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “It’s beautiful.”

“I thought so too.” He says, running his thumb across his bottom lip before shrugging his shoulders, “Lizzie didn’t think so.”

“It’s not because of you, Harry.” You quickly say, “Nothing to do with you.”

“It must’ve been, YN.” He says, “You’re sister doesn’t want to marry me. Me! Not anyone else.”

“She can’t marry you, Harry.” You say, the tears starting to collect in your eyes, “I don’t know whether if situations were different she would marry you, but in this situation it isn’t your fault. I can promise you that.”

You watch a tear fall down is cheek, “Has she met someone else?”

You look away, pursing your lips and closing your eyes to try and stop the tears from falling down your cheeks, “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

“Is it Theodore? Is she engaged to him?”

“She will be.” You say, standing up and moving so that you’re in front of him, placing your hand upon his knee, “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“She’s my sister.”

“You’re not in charge of her.”

You reach forward and place your hand upon his cheek, using your thumb to delicately wipe the next year that falls out of his eye. His tilts his head slightly so that it’s nicely rested within your hand, and you smile at him, which his returns.

“Did she ever love me?”

“She did.” You say, nodding your head, “She loves you. She’s just not in love with you.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier.”

You shake your head, “I don’t think anything will at this point. You just need to wait, time will heal. I’ll be here for you.”

“I think.” He says, dropping his knees so that he can move closer to you, “I think you might be able to.”

“Whatever you need, H.” You say.

He moves closer, you can feel him closer to you, but you certainly hadn’t expected for him to place his lips upon yours. The kiss at first in gentle, his lips pressed against yours so gently that at the start you couldn’t quite feel him upon you. Then it’s more urgent, with his hand placed upon your cheek, his lips moving against yours at a quick pace.

“H.” You whisper, pulling away slightly as he removes his lips from yours, using them to dance down your cheek, to your jaw and then resting against the skin of your neck.

He removed his hand from your cheek and hooking it underneath your thigh so he can manoeuvre you to be on his lap.

This is the first time you’ve ever kissed a boy, and you can’t believe that the boy of all people is Harry Styles. You hadn’t been this close to anyone before, straddled across his lap with your knees each side of his waist, your skirt bunched up at your waist. The second you were comfortable, his lips attached to your again, his hands rested upon the small of your back. A feeling brewed within you, causing your hips to involuntary buck towards his. You felt him smile against your lips, and that was when you snapped out of the daze that you were in.

Without really thinking, you pulled away and clambered off of his lap. He looked flushed as you pulled away, his hair a little messy and his lips red from the kissing.

“No.” You hold your hand out at him, shaking your head, “You can’t do that.”

“Why not?” He said, standing up and taking a few steps towards you.

“Because. . . because you just can’t.” You shake your head, lifting your hands to run through your hair.

“I thought.” He looks at you quizzically, “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“Maybe I did, a little bit.” You say, shaking your head, “But you didn’t want it to be me. You wanted it to be Lizzie.”

“No.” He shakes his head, holding his hand out as if to touch yours, “I didn’t want that.”

“You did, I know you Harry, and you did.” You sniffle slightly, shaking your head, “I’m not Lizzie and I’ll never be Lizzie, and I’ve accepted that. You’ll never love me like you love Lizzie, and I know that. But, Harry, I won’t be second best. I don’t deserve to be second best.”

“You aren’t second best, YN!”

You can’t help but let out a small sob at his words, “I am, Harry. From the first day that we met each other, Lizzie came first. She was the one who you couldn’t bore your eyes away from, not me. I don’t think I had a full conversation with you until Lizzie left for her classes.”

“That’s not true, YN.” He shakes his head, “I swear to you, it isn’t.”

“I’m sorry, Harry.” You take a few steps back, “I won’t be second best.”

With that you turn away, leaving the house and leaving Harry. You couldn’t help the tears that fell as you walked across to your house.

You had made the decision that day that you weren’t to stay in America, that you were going to leave and you knew that Aunt Jemima was the person you knew would be able to help you with that.

Your Aunt Jemima was getting older, but before she died she wanted to go to Europe on last time, more specifically France. She had asked you years ago to be her companion on the trip, and you had agreed, but that was the last time you’d ever spoken to her about it. On Christmas day, you had been the one to bring the idea back up in conversation, dropping in little hints until Aunt Jemima picked up what you were saying. She had been the one to say that in the new year you were going and that you had to be ready to leave on January second with no complaints, not that you had any anywhere.

When Aunt Jemima’s carriage came, you said your farewell’s to your mother and you sister, and Theodore who had proposed to your sister the day prior — and left. As you sat in the carriage, you couldn’t help but look at Harry’s house, and you weren’t shocked to see him at the window watching your every move. You didn’t look away from the window until you could no longer see the house, when you turned to look straight in front of your, your gloved hands resting upon your knee.

“Forget him.” Aunt Jemima says, sighing slightly and shaking her head, “He isn’t right for you.”

“I have no idea what you are on about.” You shake your head, looking out of the small carriage window so that you don’t have to look at your Aunt.

“That Styles boy.” She says, and you immediately snap your eyes towards her, “Don’t think I don’t know about the two of you.”

“There isn’t anything to know.” You shake your head at her.

“There obviously is.” She says, “Or you wouldn’t be sulking the way that you are.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“I haven’t brought a liar with me have I ?” She asks, raising her eyebrow at you.

“You haven’t.” She shakes her head, “I am sulking, I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” She says, pursing her lips, “Are you going to tell me about him, then?”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“You’re about to cry, my dear.” She flutters her eyes to you slightly, “I could sense your heartbreak from a mile away. He’s the reason you wanted to come, isn’t he?”

“I wanted to come.” You say, messing with your fingers that sat on your lap, “He just. . . gave me a reason to finally do it.”

“I think he’s the idiot in this situation.” She says after a few seconds and your lips part in shock, before you clamp them back together, “He’s the one who got involved with you and your sister. I wonder if he can even get out of bed.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well. First of all your sister broke his heart by not marrying him and marrying that other man, I’ve already forgotten his name.” She shakes her head, “Then you broke his heart by doing whatever you did when you went to go see him on Christmas Eve and you’ve been depressed ever since you left.”

“Who told you that?”

“Who do you think?” Aunt Jemima clicks her tongue and shakes her head, “My daughter told me. Wouldn’t stop crying saying that you’re leaving the love of your life and her other daughters pregnant by some pretentious nobody.”

You run your hand over your forehead, scrunching your face at the fact that everyone knew, “My mother knows too much.”

“Your mother just knows you.” Aunt Jemima shakes her head, “At least you haven’t ruined your life before it’s even begun, with a child of all things.”

“You’re just saying that because you never had children.”

“Why would I want an offspring of myself and some other man?”

“It’s about love, Aunt Jemima.” You can tell that you’re about to cry, so again you turn your head, “When you love someone, that’s something to bring that love into a being.”

“I just don’t see why.” She says, curling up her nose, “But then again, that’s why I’m seventy, unmarried and childless. Don’t think about the Styles boy too much. You’re going to a different country for heavens sake, think of all of the people that you’ll meet whilst you’re there. You’ll forget him soon, my dear, and he’ll forget you. That’s what we’ll hope for anyway.”

The tears do start to fall now, in quick streams down down your cheeks. You couldn’t stop them. Aunt Jemima, no matter how much you despised her sometimes, she certainly knew what she was talking about. You turned your head so that you were looking away from your aunt, looking out of the window and trying your hardest not to let any sobs fall out of your lips.

You did love Harry and if he had stopped your from getting into the carriage, your probably would. If he had asked to marry you, you probably would have said yes without any hesitation but at the same time you also felt as though you were second best, and that wasn’t a place that you ever thought you’d be.

No matter how much you loved him, and yearned to be with him, you knew for the sake of your sanity and for the sake of staying as a strong independent woman. You were taught from being young from your mother that no matter how many people try to say that all you were worth is more than just being the wife of some rich man. Your mother also said that you had a talent and that you had to use it.

France was going to be the place that you were going to use your talents, and be a better person for doing so.

Four Years Later

“Pierre.” You say, smiling at the man as he held his hand out to you, “Puis-je vous demander ce que vous faites?” May I ask what you’re doing?

“Je demande à la plus belle fille de la pièce de danser.” You can’t help the blush that falls across your cheeks. You nod your head and slip your hand into his, standing up and following him into the middle of the dance floor. I’m asking the most beautiful girl in the room to dance.

The music changes around them to one of the most popular songs in Paris to dance to. He lifts his arm up, just as you do to his, and start the movements in the same way that everyone else in the room had.

You had arrived in France with Aunt Jemima four years ago, fresh faced after the journey and ready to start your new life there. At first it took a while for you to get used to the new life that you now lived. Aunt Jemima’s French house, if it was even possible, was bigger that her house back home with more nooks and crannies to explore but more importantly, a bigger garden that you could paint every corner of. The main thing that you focused on during the first few months of your arrival was settling in and learning the language which you knew would be hard, but it was something that you needed to do.

Pierre was the person who had helped you do that.

Aunt Jemima had hired him to be your French tutor. She said that he was one of the best for you, and that he certainly was. You learnt the basics within the first few months until you were able to finally communicate with the people around you in their native language. At first, you despised Pierre and his pretentious way of making you feel small, but here you were, fours years later, dancing with him and waiting for his proposal at some point.

Aunt Jemima would be turning within her grave if she knew you were planning to marry Pierre. Even though she hired him when you first arrived to teach you, but she found him incompetent to do anything else. She could tell that you were falling for him, and told you multiple times to not settle for him but you were ignoring her.

If you listened to every one who your Aunt Jemima told you to not settle for, you’d never marry at all.

“Do you have plans tomorrow?” He asks, in English this time, his accent seeping through with every word that he spoke.

“Plans?” You raise your eyebrow, “To paint, yes, but I suppose I can clear my schedule.”

After learning the French language, that was when you had started your painting classes. You started taking everything in, listening to every single word the teacher said to you until you were good enough to start on your own. The first time one of your pieces was shown in an exhibit, people loved it, and you found yourself creating more and more works and creating more and more links with people around.

“Do.” He says, nodding his head, “Je veux t’emmener quelque part. Quelque part spécial.” I want to take you somewhere. Somewhere special.

You bite your lip, nodding your head whilst trying to suppress the large smile that’s ready to cross your entire face.

Pierre was a hopeless romantic, always showering you in large gestures that caused your heart to flutter within your chest. He hadn’t kissed you, and even though you knew that you knew deep down that you shouldn’t compare it, you found yourself not feeling the way that you did the last time you found yourself with a man.

At twenty-three you were late to get married, and if you ever wanted kids you would have to do so quicker than anything you had ever done in your life because you knew that your days were going to start become numbered.

“What time should I be ready?”

“I’ll pick you up at eleven.”

The song ends, your courtesy and he bows and that’s when you walk back towards the table you were sat at, picking up your glass of Champagne and taking a sip.

“YN.” You stop drinking immediately, nearly choking on the liquid that you had already started to sip. You know that voice anywhere, etched into your brain from when you were just a mere eighteen year old with a heart twice the size of the one you had now, “As I live and breathe.”

You turn around, immediately seeing a man that you had left years ago stood in front of you. He looked exactly the same as when you knew him all those years ago, except his features were a tad harder and his hair curler that it was before if it was even possible which you weren’t too sure about.

“Harry.” You swallow the lump in your throat, placing your glass down on the table and turning so that you were facing him, “It’s been a while.”

“It certainly has.” He says, lifting his own glass to his lips, “You look good. Happy.”

“I am.” You nod your head. You look at him, his eyes emptier that you had ever seen them before, not even when Lizzie refused to marry him, “I wish I could say the same for you, but. . .”

“I look exhausted.”

“You do.” You say, watching as his lips curled up into a smile as do yours, “How are you? Genuinely.”

“I’m. . .”

“Ma chérie.” You feel an arm slip around your waist, rest upon the small of it as he stands next to you, “Qui est-ce?” My darling. Who is this?

“Ah.” You brush a piece of your hair that had fallen out of place away from your face, “Pierre, this is Harry. Harry this is Pierre.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, lifting the glass to his lips to drink the rest of it. As you watch, it doesn’t seem to even hits the sides with how quickly he drinks it.

“Bonjour.” Pierre holds his hand out to Harry, “Comment allez vous?”

Harry looks at Pierre’s hand but he doesn’t shake it, and that’s when you lift your fingers to run against your forehead, “Are you two, marié?” Married.

“No.” You shake your head, stepping to the side slightly so that Pierre’s hand isn’t upon your waist anymore, “We are. . .”

“Courting.” Pierre’s quick to interject, “I think that’s what to call it.”

You watch as Harry’s eyebrows raise, and without saying anything to the two of you, he turns around and mutters, “I need another drink.”

As he walks away, you can see the slight stagger in his walk, one that many intoxicated people hold and you know that him being not himself treads deeper than just seeing you there today.

“YN.” Pierre places a hand upon your shoulder, “How do you know that man?”

“He’s someone from home.” You say, watching as Harry drinks another full glass of Champagne where he’s staggered off to, “He’s an old friend.”

He leans down until you can feel his breath at your ear, “Just a friend.”

You nod, leaning into him as he places a kiss to your neck, “Bien.” Good.

Since Pierre wasn’t picking you up until eleven, you decide that you have the time to at least start your next painting. In the garden of your Aunts house that you had inherited, you had built a gazebo with the money that you had made from selling your art pieces to exhibits that overlooked the garden and the pond from the four different directions that it had around it.

You had decided that the swans that swum in the pond were looking particularly delightful today and you decide that is the direction that you want to start your painting. You set up your easel and your canvas, as well as your paints that you brought on a palette and start figuring out the dimensions of the painting and what you wanted it to look like.

You hold up your paintbrush, closing one of your eyes as you move it from portrait to landscape and back again.

“You always were a perfectionist.” The paintbrush in your hand clatters you the ground as it slips through your fingers, due to you jumping. You weren’t expecting anyone to be here, and you certainly weren’t expecting to hear his voice.

“And you always had a tendency to shock people.” He laughs, his dress shoes hitting the decking with loud pats.

“My apologies.” He says, slipping one of his hands into the pocket of his trousers, taking another step closer to you, “I didn’t mean to shock you, love.”

You place your palette down, brushing your hands off slightly on your apron. You’d usually wear your comfortable clothes to paint in, the attire usually not even being a skirt but often trousers, but because you were meeting Pierre later, you knew that you had to dress up. It wasn’t the fanciest dress you owned, but the light blue material complimented your features in a way that you just couldn’t resist when you saw it in the shop.

“Yes you did.” You lips curl up into a smile, “You forget that I know you Harry, even after all these years.”

“Lots of things can change in four years, YN.”

“You haven’t.”

“You haven’t, either.” He smiles.

You tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear and take a step closer to him, clearing your throat slightly as you do so, “I want to apologise for last night. Pierre can be a little. . .”

“Intrusive.” Harry leans against the pillar nearest to him and you nod, knowing that is exactly what he is.

“I’m very sorry. I would have loved to have caught up with you.”

“I probably wouldn’t have been in the best frame of mind to do so.” He runs his fingers through his hair, “I was drunk, if you couldn’t tell.”

“I could.”

“Now.” He lifts his hand up and motions to the garden around you, “Are you going to tell me what I’ve missed in the last four years?”

“Uh.” You move so you’re stood next to him, leant against the barrier, “I moved with Aunt Jemima. This was her house but she died a year ago, if I remember correctly. She left me the house in her will, and I decided that I wanted to stay.”

“Have you been at home at all during the last four years?”

You nod your head, “I went home when Lizzie got married, that was when I met Anna for the first time. Then I went back for Aunt Jemima’s funeral because she decided she didn’t want to be buried here.”

“I must have missed you.” He says, “I spent a lot of the last four years in England with my grandparents.”

“Lizzie told me.” You say, “She said that she did invite you to the wedding but your father explained that you were in England.”

He nods his head, “I left a few months after you. I think my father was fed up of my moping.”

It shouldn’t have hurt you, but his words did. Your chest squeezed slightly at his words. Even though you knew you were doing what you were doing to benefit yourself, you couldn’t lie and say that you hadn’t missed him. You had lost a friend when you left, as well as your first love.

“Are you married?” You ask, not really knowing why the words escape from your lips in the way that they do.

He shakes his head, holding his hand up to reveal his completely ring free hand, “Nope. I can’t really say that I’ve been looking.”

“I’m sure you’ve had opportunities.” You say, “You’re the perfect gentlemen, Harry. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve had women queuing to marry you.”

He chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “People have tried but I haven’t been interested.”

“Why not?”

“Some may say that I’m still hung up on somebody.” His eyes flutter away from yours, and you take it as the opportunity to look down at your hands, “But that doesn’t matter. What about you and Mr. Intrusive.”

You chuckle, lifting your eyes up to look at his, “He was my French language teacher. I didn’t like him, despised him to be fair but here were are a few years later and I think he’s going to propose to me later today.”

“Do you want to marry him?”

If you were asked this question but anybody else, you probably would have immediately said yes and that was enough for you to know that you should marry him. But seeing Harry stood there, the way that he is, waiting for you to answer what should be one of the easiest questions ever, reminds you that this may have gotten a lot more confusing now with Harry’s reappearance.

“I. . .” You hesitate and drop your eyes down to the ground again, “I think so.”

“You think?” He says, “I can’t say that I believe that you do if you only think that you want to marry him.”

“I do.” You say, quickly.

Harry stands up and takes a few steps towards the opposite end of the gazebo, “Do you love him?”

This answer, so it should be another one, was easy to answer, “No.”

“Then why are you marrying him.”

“I’m twenty-three, Harry.” You say, your heels tapping the wood as you move to stand next to him, looking at the pond in front of you, “I’m certainly not getting any younger. If I returned home to mother and father without a husband and children I believe they would disown me.”

“They wouldn’t.” He shakes his head, “They love you too much.”

“I’ve had three letters from them asking about grandchildren.” You deadpan, looking at him with a stoic look on their face.

“I’m sure they wouldn’t want to marry someone who you don’t love.” He says.

“If I don’t marry Pierre, who will I marry?”

After a few seconds, the smallest whispers escapes his lips, “You could marry me.”

The whole world seems to slow down around you, and you turn to look at him. He’s already looking at you, with those green eyes that you became so accustomed to all those years ago. You knew each other in all for three months, but you spent every second of every day with each other when Lizzie was away, and it certainly showed with how close you became. Marrying Harry could be the thing that you need, have always needed. You haven’t been as happy as you were when you were back him with him in a long time.

“Harry.” You say, the words coming out in a small whisper, “You can’t mean that.”

“I do.” He says, quickly to say the least, “I haven’t been more sure about anything in my life before.”

“Harry—”

“Madame.” One of the groundskeepers say, walking towards the two of you, “Monsieur Perney est là.” Mr. Perney is here.

“Merci, Alfred.” You clear your throat to try and mask the uncertainty in your voice, “Ça ne prendra qu’un seconde.” Thank you, Alfred. I will only be a second.

The man nods and walks away, and you turn back to look at Harry, who has the same look on his face as you do on yours. There’s a level of defeat between the two of you.

“I need to, um, go meet with Pierre.” You say, hands gripping the material of your dress.

“Is that a no?” He takes a step towards you.

You sigh, “It’s a, I have to think about it.”

He nods, “When will you know? This is probably a good time to tell you that I’m leaving tomorrow.”

That changed everything. It wasn’t as though now you had a few days to think through and make your decision, you had to make it quickly before he goes.

“Tomorrow?”

He nods, “Father’s ill. Paris was my last hooray before I go back home to be an adult.”

You take a few moments to think, “Will you be able to return back here this evening?”

“For you? Of course.” He says as though he doesn’t even have to think about it.

You nod your head and take a few steps towards him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Goodbye Harry.”

“I’ll see you later, love.”

“C’est une belle journée.” Pierre says as the two of you walk side by side around a park, the spring heat light upon your skin as you do so. It’s a beautiful day.

“It is.” You say, not being able to pull your eyes away from the ground below you.

You knew that you shouldn’t be thinking about this at all, that it wasn’t fair to Pierre, but all you could think about was Harry. You couldn’t get the look of his face out of your head as you kissed his cheek and walked away, as though he felt like that was it between the two of you. You were still unsure of the decision that you were going to make, but once you found yourself stood at the top of some steps, looking out at the park below, you knew that you were to make your decision sooner of later.

“Is something bothering you?”

“No.” You shake your head, finally lifting your eyes to look at his, “Everything is swell, thank you.”

“Good.” He takes a step closer so that his fingers are brushing yours, “YN?”

“Yes?”

“We’ve known each other for a long time.” He says, and the two of you turn so that you’re facing each other, his hands gripping yours, “A very long time, and I was wondering whether I could ask you something?”

“We have.” You know what the question is before the words have left his lips, and you’re already beginning to prepare yourself for what you’re going to hear the next time he open his lips, “And you can.”

He clears his throat and fumbles within his inside pocket, drawing out what you know is a ring box. He lets go of your hand which he was still holding with his free one and drops down to his knee, using his other hand to open the small box.

“YN YLN.” He sighs, “Ma chérie. Will you marry me?”

The same feeling that you felt before overcomes you, when the whole world around you seems to be moving in slow motion. He looks so happy, his cheeks lifting in a wide grin that you can’t seem to shake from your sight. You can’t even bring yourself to look at the ring he had chosen for you, because it was at that time, seeing him on his knee, that you know what your answer is.

“I’m so sorry, Pierre.” You slip your bottom lip between your teeth, “I don’t think I can.”

“What?” His whole face drops, and guilt starts to wash over you. He immediately stands up, looking at you with wide eyes, “No?”

You shake your head, “I’m so sorry, Pierre.”

“I thought that you wanted to marry me.” He shakes his head, “Comment ai je pu être si stupide?” How could I have been so stupid?

“You haven’t. I promise you, Pierre.” You reach your hand forward to touch his arm, but he moves away from you, not wanting you to touch him you suppose, “I did want to marry you.”

“What has changed?” You look at him with sad eyes, tears threatening to spill and you watch the realisation flutter across his features, “He has.”

You drop your head, lifting your hand to wipe away the tears that had started to spill, “I’m so sorry.”

“Who is he?” His features switch to angry ones next, and his voice deepens and it shocks you to say the least, “You have never mentioned him and now you will not marry me because of him?”

“He’s an old friend from hime, like I said.” You repeat your words from the party last night, “I haven’t seen him since I moved here.”

“Do you love him?” The words are quick to leave his lips and you once again drop your head, in shame if you are completely honest, “Do you? I want to hear you say it?”

“I do.” His hostile tone scared you into answering, “I always have.”

“Did you ever love me?”

You shake your head, the little movement causing him to throw you one of the worst looks you’ve ever seen in your life and stalk away from you. Tears stream down your face, and you know that you probably look the worst you’ve ever looked in your life at this given moment but you couldn’t care less. You thought that you’d feel worse than you do, but you you feel more relieved than anything. You feel bad that you’ve had to break his heart, but the idea of going back home with Harry, seeing your family and saying that he is the man that you’re going to marry was enough for your heart to burst with excitement.

In your opinion, you couldn’t return home quick enough. The second you return to the house you’re fluttering around as quickly as possible, packing all the belongings that you’d need immediately when you returned but you knew that you could get the rest of your belongings shipped in at a later date.

The evening rolled around quicker that you had imagined it would, but you supposed time went quickly when you’re packing to go across the world with the love of your life. When you hear the knock at your door, you race to open it, not caring what people think because all you want is to see him.

You throw the door open, and there he is, stood in the exact same suit that you’d seen him in earlier. He did look tireder then he did earlier, but if you had spent the day worrying you probably would’ve looked worse than he did.

“Come in.” You open the door wider, so that he can step in, “Please.”

He takes a few seconds to look around at the entrance way to the house, his lips parting at the sheer size of it as you did when you first arrived. Aunt Jemima was an odd woman, you couldn’t lie, but she certainly knew how to pick a lovely house. You’d probably sell it now that you were going back to America.

He looked around for a while before he noticed your pile of belongings in the corner, all packed away and ready to leave.

His eyes meet yours and he looks as though he’s going to cry at any given moment, “Really?”

You nod your head, “I want to marry you, Harry. Always have.”

He takes two steps forward and places his lips on yours, his hands falling to your cheeks. It sent you back to four years ago, stood in the library after you’d just kissed him. You couldn’t believe that he was back with you, kissing your lips in the way that you had yearned for him too for so many years.

He pulls away and rests his head upon yours with a sigh, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you. Ever since that day. I should’ve done more.”

“It was my fault.” You thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, “I shouldn’t have left. I should have sulked for a while but gone back to you. I missed you so terribly.”

“I know why you did it.” He says, pressing another quick kiss to your lips, “I shouldn’t have proposed to your sister when it was you who made me happy. I knew that I shouldn’t have the second I said it, and I’m sorry for that.”

“We’ll start a fresh.” You whisper, resting your forehead upon his, “Forget everything that happened four years ago and start fresh. I love you, Harry. I always have.”

“I love you too.”

You lean forward and place your lips on his again, his hands resting comfortably upon your waist. It felt so familiar for you to be in his arms, his lips upon yours. He was the only person you had ever kissed, and now he’d be the only person that you’d ever kiss, and you certainly weren’t complaining about that.

“You may now kiss the bride!”

Harry smiles at you, and you beam up at him before the two of you lean forward and kiss each other. Cheers and applause erupt around the two of you, as well as confetti and flowers being thrown across the two of you as you walk down the aisle.

You had arrived a few months ago from Paris, and immediately thrown into trying to nurse Harry’s father back to health, which didn’t go to plan. It was hard on Harry, but he had you and that was the most important thing to him. His Father gave you his blessing for the marriage, saying that it was the best thing he’d heard in a while. The funeral was a few weeks later, and the two of you decided to have the wedding two months afterwards.

The two of you were moving into Harry’s house, across the road from the house that your mother and father still lived in. You had so many plans for what you wanted to do to with the place, seeing as though it was way too big for the two of you to live in on your own.

It was your wedding night, and you were walking up towards the front door of the house when you felt Harry’s arm slipping under your thighs. You squeal as he picks you up, wrapping your arms around Harry’s neck. Giggling, you lean forward and place a kiss to his cheek, causing the dimples to show within his cheeks.

“I love you, husband.” You say, smiling as he places you down in the entry way.

“I love you too.” He leans forward and places a kiss to your lips, “Wife.”

It was as though the atmosphere within the room changed the second he said that word. His hands found your hips, resting on the material of your dress. You took a step backwards, causing you to press your back against the inside of the door, your lips immediately attacked by his. Your hips involuntarily buck up to Harry’s, causing a groan to escape from his lips. After a few seconds, he pulls away, kissing down your neck.

“Harry.” You whisper, feeling a moan ready to tumble from your lips at the feeling of his teeth grazing your neck, “Take me upstairs.”

“Are you sure?” You nod your head and he’s quick to pick you up again, this time carrying you over his shoulder. You squeal and grip his shoulders to steady yourself, “Better give my wife what she wants.”

Once you were up the stairs safely, he placed you down and connected your lips again. The first thing you did once your feet touched the ground again, you gripped the edge of his suit jacket and pushed it off his shoulders, listening to the material tumble to the ground and drop.

“Can I take your shirt off?” You mumble against his lips and he hums, allowing you to unbutton his shirt and shrugging that material off of his shoulders. This was the most you’d seen of Harry naked, and another human being at that.

“What about you?” He says, walking you both back until he’s sat on the bed, “Can I see you?”

“You’ll have to help.” You giggle, turning around. He starts to unbutton your dress, letting the material slip from your body into a pile upon the floor. He starts to unfasten your corset next, allowing that to slip from your body also. You were very exposed now, and you knew that, but the way that Harry looked at you sent all of your worries flying from your head.

He leaned back on his arms and clambered back into his lap, similarly to the way you had done all those years ago when you first kissed in the library of this very house. You wrapped your arms around his neck, just has his rested upon the exposed skin of your waist.

“YN?” You hum against his lips, “Can I make you feel good?”

You pull away and nod, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. It made you feel nervous that he was going to see you in the way that he was but this was Harry, your husband and the person you had wished to be touching you and near to the years that you had been apart. He helps remove the rest of your undergarments until you’re completely naked in front of him, laying and waiting for whatever he is going to do to you. He removes his trousers and underwear as you do so. There’s something about seeing him like that causes your hear to flutter and the rest of you to follow it.

He hovers over you, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips before moving down your neck and to your chest until he reaches your breasts, pressing kiss to the plushy skin around it until he wraps his lips around your nipple, lifting his hand up to pinch the other one between his fingers.

“Fuck, love.” He smiles up at you as you whither beneath him, feeling all of your senses heightened at the feeling of him on your skin.

He kisses down from your breasts to your stomach until his face is directly where you want it the most, where you’re literally throbbing for him. Without any warning, he leans forward and starts to attack your clit with his tongue, causing your hips to buck up from the bed and moans threatening to spill from your lips. Your hand drops to the top of his head, tugging at the curls that rest there. You’ve never felt like this, ever, in your life and you believe that if you feel it too much you will become accustomed to it. Your thighs try to clamp around his head but he stops you from doing so by gripping your thighs with his hands. After a particularly hard tug of his curls, a moan erupts from Harry and vibrates against your clit causing you to shudder.

He moved one of his hands up from your thigh to run over your wet slit, “Can I?”

“Please.” You’re quite embarrassed about how breathy it comes out but once he slips one of his fingers in, and a whine escapes his lips you can’t be bothered to care about the sounds that are leaving your lips.

“I need to stretch you out.” He says, curling his finger in you, “Can I?”

You nod your head, “Please.”

He pushes another finger into you, leaning his head back down to attack your clit again. He’s quite gentle with his tongue, using it to make a skilled attack on your clit, using it and his fingers to coax you closer and closer to the first ever orgasm you are to experience.

“Harry.” You whine his name and the feeling washes over you quicker than you had expected it too, but at the same time the man knew what he was doing and you to bring you to that peak. He continued to move his fingers and kitten lick at your clit until your thighs stop shaking. Once you have, he moves up your body again and kisses you.

“Good?”

“Really good.” You laugh, wrapping your arm around his neck, “I want to feel you, H.”

“Certain? Because we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I do.” You place your hand on his cheek, pecking his lips, “I want to.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

You smile, “It’s going to hurt whether we do it now or later. I want to.”

It’s uncomfortable to say the least, the feeling contrasting the one that you had felt earlier. You weren’t in a lot of pain, but it made it a little harder to feel the pleasure that you know you can feel from this act, Lizzie had told you plenty about it when you were younger. Harry grunted as he pushed into you, scrunching up his features. From the way that little groans and deep breaths escaped his lips, you knew that he was feeling an immense amount of pleasure.

“Feel good?” He grunts against your neck, pressing a small kiss to the skin as you smile, running your nails down his back. You knew that he was close, from the way he twitched inside of you, and your tried everything to coax it out of him.

“Feel so good, love.” He comes soon after his words, spilling into you and filling you up.

He collapses on top of you and you hold him close to you, pushing his curls off of his forehead that have stuck. You giggle as his pouts his lips, leaning down to play a kiss to them.

“I love you so much.” You smile.

“And I, you.” He pulls you close, “You were never second best, I hope you know that.”

“I do now.”

Three Years Later

“Mary.” You smile, placing your hand on the back of the little girls shoulder, “That looks beautiful.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Styles.” She says, continuing to add the green paint to her painting.

You and Harry figured out not that long after what do with the large house you had been left by his father. With your art and French skills, and Harry’s love for reading and slight knowledge of simple maths, you decided to convert the house into a school for the kids in the village. It was a place for them to come without having to worry and learn and focus on new skills.

At this point you had just finished one of your art classes and left the kids to let their creativity flow with some paper and paints, as well as pencils and other materials for them to use. You were making your way outside, smiling at the sight of Harry sat in the garden with a group of children sat around him, listening to every word he spoke as he read from a book.

The next thing you saw was your sister, stood with her husband and her children. You were surprised to see your little boy, Oscar, sat comfortably in her arms. The second he sees you, he’s making grabby arms in your direction.

He had just turned one and was now in a phase of not wanting to walk but be carried everywhere. He was certainly his father’s son, in more ways than one. He looked identical to his father, with green eyes and unruly brown curls and dimples, but he was also the exact same person as your husband, and if you thought it was a struggle to live with one Harry Styles, having an Oscar Styles as well was just as hard.

“Hi baby.” You pick him up and place him on your hip, his hand resting on your neck lovingly. From the way he drops his head to your shoulder, you can tell he’s almost ready for his nap. You smile and press a kiss to his cheek.

Harry comes over a few seconds later and kisses you on the lips briefly and places a kiss to Oscar’s cheeks. The two of you look over at what you have created for the kids around you and smile at each other.

“I’m glad I didn’t give up on you.”

“Me neither.” You smile, “I love you, mon chéri.”

“I love you too.”

Oscar looks up at the two of you with a pout on his lips, causing Harry to chuckle, “And we love you too, little man.”

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