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imyourbratzdoll · 4 months

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𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒍

part 2 of 🌧️welcome to hell🌧️

summary - after catching your husband and best friend, you struggle with the negative thoughts that attack your mind.

warning - mentions of cheating, negative thoughts, self-hate, betrayal.

the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.

part 1 - part 3

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Your thoughts were running wild as tears continued rolling down your face, your lip bleeding from all the biting you were doing. You ignored the pain as your teeth dug once again into your bottom lip, you didn’t want him to hear you. You couldn’t confront him right now, your chest felt like it had been stabbed a thousand times and then someone had reached inside, gripping your heart, and squeezing.

You clutched your hands close to you as you lean forward, mouth falling open into a silent scream, tears rapidly falling before quiet sobs escape and your hands move to grip the sheets. Him fucking her kept replaying on repeat, like a broken record. Your head tilted back as you continued to cry, vision blurry as tears filled them and you stared up at the ceiling. Questions continued to intrude your mind alongside the image of them.

Why weren’t you good enough?

Why did they do this?

Was this the first time?

Could you have done better to stop this from happening?

Maybe if you were prettier than her, he wouldn’t have cheated.

Your thoughts continue to attack you and you quickly pull the blanket to your mouth as you sob into it, clenching your eyes shut, more tears slipping out from the force and pain. After a few more minutes of crying, you had finally begun to calm down, only a couple more tears slipped from your eyes.

You looked down at your left hand, staring brokenly at your wedding and engagement ring. Did the vows you two spoke mean nothing to him? You played with your rings as you thought back to your wedding day, realising something you probably should’ve on the day.

You were standing there, looking at yourself in the full-length mirror. Your eyes were scanning your wedding dress with a soft smile as you felt like a princess. Your gaze snapped up as the door opened and Sarah stumbled in with a smile, her hair slightly ruffled and her lipstick smudged. She looked up at you and smiled– Looking back at it, the smile didn’t look at all friendly, it leaned more towards it being a smile someone gives you when they know something you don’t, one that seemed almost malicious.

“Sorry, I got a bit caught up.” Sarah bit her lip, moving closer. “Oh! I ran into Johnny on the way back and he looked good. He didn’t seem like he had cold feet or anything.”

You smile, sighing happily. “Yeah?”

She nods, fixing her makeup and hair in the mirror before turning to you. “Yeah, he really seems to love you, Y/n.” When you walked down the aisle, his hair was slightly tousled, and you missed the lipstick stain hidden in the collar of his shirt. You were too blinded on your wedding day, eyes and heart filled with love and dreams. If you weren’t so blind, you would’ve seen the looks the two were giving each other.

You blink out of the memory, realising this whole time it was before your eyes, but you were too blind. You thought Johnny had changed from what everyone knew him as, but he had just found new ways to lie. You crawl to the side of your bed and reach underneath it, pulling out a photo album filled with your wedding photos. Sitting back, you open it and begin to flick through, your eyes narrowed as you search for something, anything. You don’t know if you want to confirm your memory or not, but you couldn’t stop yourself as you continued to flick through every single photo. Analysing every little detail like your life depended on it.

You stopped, your hand slightly shaking as you stared down at one. It was a close up of you and Johnny, your eyes zeroed in on the small stain inside his collar, the colour matching awfully close to the one your best friend was wearing on the day. You flicked to another photo, your breath catching as you notice how close they are in this photo, they had been getting food and you didn’t think much of it. But now, as you stare down at the photo, you realise it wasn’t normal for them to be THAT close, with THAT look on their faces. Their fingers seemed to be brushing and your heart clenched because at this point, you were married. He CHEATED on you on your WEDDING day. He cheated with your BEST FRIEND… She betrayed you… They betrayed you.

You choke up when you remember a conversation you overheard from one of his friends.

“Damn, did you guys see the chick Johnny went home with during his bachelor party last night?!” The guy whistled as if he was imagining the woman. “She was so fucking hot! I think she’s close with Y/n? She’s that one–”

“Yeah, yeah! I know who ya talkin’ about! She’s fuckin’ fine!” Another one of his friends chimed in, “You’re tellin’ me he managed to score her before the big day?!”

“Yeah! Apparently, she’s so good, he’s gonna keep seeing her.” There was a pause. “Which should be easy for him seeing as his soon–to–be wife is close to the woman.”

You didn’t know why you had forgotten that conversation, maybe somewhere deep down you were hoping they were talking about another Johnny, another Y/n, another wedding. It was as though your mind and heart worked together to stop you from being hurt. You wouldn’t have gone through with the wedding if you knew he fucked your best friend at his bacholer party! You would’ve been saved from the hurt from what happened afterwards. You would’ve never caught them, you would’ve never remembered her coming in after doing god knows what with him on your wedding day.

He said he loved you with a knife against your throat. All his words and promises began to feel like nothing, because that was what they were. Nothing. They never had any meaning behind them, the only person who thought they did was you. You had been fooled all this time. You wondered why he still never slept with you after your wedding night. Was he sleeping with her this whole time? You rarely saw her, so they would’ve had to meet up secretly. Was she that much better than you that it caused him to just never want to sleep with you again? Or was it in some twisted way, his way of being faithful to her, even though you held his last name?

You hadn’t realised you had started crying again, still so softly as to not alert the man in the house. Your body began to feel weak and drained, with the last bit of energy you could muster, you slipped the photo album back into place before drifting off into a nightmare filled sleep.

You had woken up ten minutes before Sarah got back, you decided to pretend things were slightly normal for now until you could figure out what to do. You let yourself wake up before heading down to the lounge room, sitting with Johnny, you stare blankly at the game on the screen. The front door opened and from the corner of your eye, you watched as your husband became excited when he heard it. It was strange… Before you never even noticed the smallest things, now it seemed as though everything had enhanced.

Sarah walked into the room, and you watched as her eyes landed on Johnny first before she even noticed you. You watched as her demeanour immediately changed and she flashed you a very fake smile. You returned it, even though your face was fighting against the action. It felt you weren’t even there when she sat close to your husband. You felt like an outsider in your own home, your own marriage. You watched as they acted like this was routine for them, like it was natural. You felt like you weren’t the one married to him. You didn’t know what hurt more.

Your thoughts ran wild as the three of you sat there, watching the screen. Well, you were watching the screen…

What were you going to do?

How were you going to get through this?

Would this be your life if you couldn’t find anywhere to go? Couldn’t find it in yourself to leave?

Would you one day wake to your best friend telling you she’s pregnant, but never mentioning the father. Only for you to know and watch as your husband dotes on his child with another woman.

Would you ever find love again if you left?

Could you even leave?

How long were people expected to leave when they’ve found out their partner is cheating on them? Immediately? Weeks? Months? Years?

Could you really be alone again?

A voice in the back of your mind spoke, criticizing you, questioning you. Did you actually think you mattered to him? Silly silly girl. You mean nothing to him… Just look at them, so perfect together, like they were made for each other. You are just getting in the way. You were so stupid for not seeing it before.

This is your own fault for being so blind.

You were brought out of your thoughts when she stood, sneaking Johnny a look. “I’m gonna head to bed, I’m exhausted.” Her smile stretched so wide as she looked at you, reminding you of the one she gave on your wedding day. “Thank you so much for letting me stay again, Y/n. I’ve missed us being together.” Was that a double meaning behind her words? You couldn’t bring yourself to reply, only nodding with another fake smile.

You watched as your husband watched her walk away, with a look he had never looked at you with. Your heart followed with each step your best friend took. Your gaze moved back to the tv when Johnny turned his attention to you. “Do you think we should head off as well? I’m pretty beat.” He stands and stretches, not even waiting for your response as he is already heading to the bedroom.

You sit there for a minute, your mind filled only with negative thoughts, your eyes and heart heavy.

This was your fault. You weren’t good enough. This is your fault.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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eddiediazismyhusband · 4 months

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Married Buddie Headcanons

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This came about from an ask by @mattsire and I have FINALLY gotten around to sitting down and typing them out— i would like everyone to know i now have a note in my notes app full of these with no context

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- everyone assumed buck would be the bridezilla, but in reality he was pretty tame compared to eddie who using the subtle excuse of “i never got to do this with my first wedding” to get his way on everything

- buck constantly made suggestive jokes about their wedding night in the weeks leading up to it, but when the night finally got there, buck passed out as soon as they reached the hotel room; eddie thought this was super adorable

- they don’t spoon in bed; they will spoon on the couch watching tv (alternating big spoon/little spoon) but when they lay down to sleep, they prefer to face each other so that the last thing they see before sleep and the first thing they see when they wake up is each other

- buck wakes up first every morning to make breakfast— he’s a big morning person anyway and he loves to cook for his boys— he absentmindedly hums or lightly sings as he cooks breakfast, and eddie will stand in the dining room, hiding behind the wall, to listen. buck has never caught him to this day.

- buck loves driving and eddie hates it, so more often than not eddie is buck’s passenger princess in the Jeep.

- eddie remains very professional when they are at work; there is the occasional stolen kiss, hand holding under the table, kiss on the cheek/forehead, but for the most part they stick to simply sitting next to each other whenever they can- their knees often pressing together. At home, however, eddie hangs off buck like a koala; as soon as he realized his feelings for buck, he could not get enough of touching/holding on to buck as often as he could, whether it be holding hands at dinner, wrapping his arms around buck from behind and tucking his chin over buck’s shoulder (or vice versa), cuddling on the couch, laying his head in buck’s lap, leaning his head on buck’s shoulder

- buck and eddie cannot agree on a shower temperature; they have only attempted the forray into sharing one time and ended up bickering about the temperature before eddie gave up and let buck win— they’ve never tried since

- eddie slips into saying spanish sweet-nothings to buck constantly, buck taking the time to learn all of them whenever he heard a new one

- buck will sometimes pull eddie close in his sleep so that their chests lie flush against each other and he can feel eddie’s heartbeat.

- they love going all out for their anniversary; fancy restaurant, night at a hotel, grand gestures. eddie likes to spoil buck and buck lets him because he knows how much eddie likes it

- buck is intento on following the anniversary gift list by year; hiding a secret clipboard on which he plans all future gifts for eddie as new ideas come to him (for their first anniversary, buck had gotten eddie a paper-scrap art piece that was a portrait of chris)

- eddie followed the anniversary gift list for their first anniversary only when he gifted buck official adoption papers for chris

- eddie kept his paper vows and keeps them in an antique box that was passed down from his abuelo; alongside it he keeps a small wallet-size photo that buck had taken of them early on in their friendship

- buck made a scrapbook photo album of their wedding and keeps it displayed on the coffee table as a coffee table book

- ik some people like the buckley-diaz hyphenation (and i am absolutely not against that at all) but i am one of the Buck Diaz girlies who hc’s that he drops Buckley altogether

- he and eddie have complimentary tattoos on their ring fingers; buck has an “E” for eddie, and eddie has a “B” for buck.

- buck also got a linework tattoo based on a photo of him, eddie, and chris tattooed on the left side of his chest, over his heart; in the same spot, eddie has “e-c-b”

- they both have their wedding date tattooed under their chest ones

- even after a fight, they don’t sleep apart, because buck has nightmares and can only be grounded by eddie holding him; eddie has nightmares too, but they are less frequent than buck’s

- their wedding bands are simply gold bands, but inside they are engraved; inside buck’s it says “have my back any day” and inside eddie’s it says “and you can have mine”

#911 abc #911 on abc #911 #911 headcanons #eddie diaz #eddie diaz headcanon #evan buckley #evan buckley headcanons #buddie #buddie 911 #911 buddie #buck and eddie #buck x eddie #eddie x buck #eddie diaz x evan buck buckley #eddie diaz x buck #eddie diaz x evan buckley #buddie headcanons

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madamlaydebug · 1 year

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CRITICAL WARNING!!!! Radio talk show hostess, Kim Komando, did some digging about TEMU and this is what she found!

Seemingly overnight, everyone’s talking about Temu (pronounced “tee-moo”), an online shopping app that boasts deals that seem too good to be true, like $17 wireless earbuds, $1 “gold” necklaces and $23 wedding dresses.

Over 50 million Americans have downloaded Temu since it launched state-side in September 2022, after it gained traction with expensive Super Bowl ads promising to let you “shop like a billionaire.”

Today, Temu is the most popular shopping app in the U.S. behind Amazon. But most of us don’t know much about the app’s true origins. Reader Daniel Mayer asked an important question, “Is [Temu] something we should be concerned about?”

So, I did some digging. And as it turns out, yes, you absolutely should be. Here’s what I found:

Where did Temu come from?

This isn’t some fly-by-night operation. Temu is based in Boston, Massachusetts, by PDD Holdings Inc. (Nasdaq: PDD). PDD is headquartered in Shanghai, China.

PDD also owns the e-commerce platform Pinduoduo headquartered in — you guessed it — China. So, Temu is a Communist China-based app and site.

What you need to know before using Temu

First, you’re buying goods directly from manufacturers in China and other parts of the world. That’s why shipping times are often 12 days or longer. The prices are low because the goods are cheap. The pictures of what you see advertised may not be what you actually get.

Temu’s BBB rating is 2.21/5. Reviews at TrustPilot are interesting, with 38% 5-star reviews and 41% 1-star reviews.

But that’s not the worst of it.

Temu is downright dangerous.

The app is a clever, pervasive digital stalker. As you shop, Temu monitors your activity on other apps, tracks your notifications and location and changes settings.

🛑 It gets worse. Temu gains full access to all your contacts, calendars and photo albums, plus all your social media accounts, chats and texts. In other words, literally everything on your phone. This is scary

No shopping app needs this much control, especially one tied to Communist China. If you’re using Temu, delete the app from your phone ASAP.

On iPhone, Long-press an app, then tap Remove App > Delete App. Tap Delete to confirm.

On Android, touch and hold an app, then tap Remove App > Delete App > Delete.

Pro tip: If you downloaded Temu, to be safe from Chinese spies, you really need to do a full factory reset.

But wait, there’s more! Temu’s sister app was removed from Google Play because of malware.

Do not buy from this company, or use their app!

COPY AND PASTE PLEASE

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ifancyharry · 2 years

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Too late

Please let me know if you liked this, i love feedback!!

Word count: 6.8k

What is it: childhood friends to strangers to lovers; YN is getting married and she and Harry haven't spoken in five years. Harry hopes it's not too late, because he's been in love with her since he was 10. angst

TW: mentions of marijuana

When Harry received the invite he was coming back from his usual morning run. It had started as a rather nice kind of morning, really; the weather was warm and the sun kissed his tights with every jog he took, turning his skin a nice golden color, but not enough to make him sweat to the point of grossness.

Days like that were rare in London, especially in May, so Harry, while he was running, thought about five nice things he could do outside to take advantage of the beautiful weather. Of course, he obviously hadn’t taken in prospective the possibility of getting home to an invitation to his best friend’s wedding, so instead of sun bathing, eating his favorite meal on the porch and whatever other three things he’d come up with, he closed the door behind him, shut all the blinds, and sat on his bathroom floor for hours. And not what felt like hours. He really sat there until his bum had taken the shape of the floor’s tiles.

He has to admit, albeit without little shame, he tried to throw up a couple of times. He most definitely knows how dramatic that sounds, but call it poetic license or a really bad taste in romantic movies, it felt appropriate at the time. Because he really did feel like throwing up.

When he started feeling too pathetic to excuse his behavior, he jogged downstairs once again, and he picked up the invite in between his fingers. If he’s being honest, he really hoped the letter wouldn’t be there anymore. He’d rather have imagined it. A nightmare he couldn’t seem to wake up from, or perhaps a sick joke? YN wasn’t like that. She could never joke about such things.

Harry was definitely the more unserious out of the two, and even he wouldn’t dare to pull such a prank on her. So he knew the invite was real.

After a brief moment where he seriously contemplated going MIA and pull another ‘kissy’ post and disappear until the upcoming year, he took out his phone from his hoodie’s pocket and opened the calendar app.

As he came closer to the date, he was praying to god he’d be busy. Call him coward all you want. He was really hoping YN chose the date of the Met (it’s not like he was planning on going, but he’d definitely reconsider if it meant missing her wedding) or the date he’d set for an album release. She hadn’t. She actually chose a nice, free Sunday at the end of the month. And Harry felt like lying on the bathroom floor all over again.

If Harry was any other person in the world, he would have felt guilty. Because you’re supposed to be happy if your best friend’s getting married. Except, Harry isn’t like other people. Because Harry’s been in love with YN since he was a child; since the very first moment she moved next door and Harry wasn’t even old enough to know what love was all about. He’s certainly aged now, and with it you’d think the love he felt for her could have subdued, or fade, but it never did. It stayed with him until the very day he received the invite.

Harry eyes briefly the piece of paper in his hands, ‘You’re invited to YN and Graham’s wedding’ and bla bla bla, written in that one font Harry despises (he truly doesn’t, he wasn’t even aware that font existed before this morning), and he feels the sudden urge to pick up a lighter and burn it. That’s how much he despises that font. That’s how much he loves YN. Because seeing her name close to another who isn’t his, makes him want to never get out of bed ever again — he contemplated doing that already, and, frankly, he probably will, at least until he isn’t required to do something like a show or whatever else Jeff schedules for him.

The thing is that the invite wouldn’t have had this effect on him if YN and Harry were still friends. Because despite Harry still calling YN his best friend, he doesn’t know if she considers him even a friend anymore, and he made it that way. It’s his fault. Harry, who’s someone who never takes accountability for anything, knows it’s his fault. And everyone around them knows, but sometimes Mitch, who maybe cares about him to the point of hiding the truth from him for his sake, tells him it wasn’t his fault entirely; he says: you followed your heart, so you made the right choice — which coming from Mitch means a lot. But Harry, despite appreciating the effort, knows it’s not true. Because he did follow his heart, but he lost her. So really, he would have preferred a life in pain beside her. Because now he’s still in pain but without her. So who won?

YN never thinks about Harry. She doesn’t think about him when she’s shopping at Primark and sees a fruit theme stuffy she knows he’d like, she doesn’t think about him when she gets in the car and her bluetooth connects to his playlist on her Spotify automatically (she told Graham many times it wasn’t her fault, it was kind of a default thing her car did), she’s not thinking about him now, in front of her closet, debating whether she should wear a dress he bought her for her wedding rehearsal dinner.

YN sometimes likes to pretend she never knew Harry. She likes to pretend she never moved next door to him when she was only ten, she likes to pretend he never auditioned on xfactor, she likes to pretend she loves Graham as much as she loves Harry.

Other times, YN likes to pretend there’s a universe in which Harry’s the one she’s marrying. In this universe, she imagines never meeting Graham, she imagines Harry never leaving and shattering her heart, she imagines the cat they’d adopt, the house they’d buy, how they’d raise their children; in this universe she sees herself always happy.

She knows she’s not being fair to Graham, so she lets herself linger in this universe only for a couple of minutes and especially on hard days when she feels overwhelmed, it doesn’t make it more morally right, she’s aware of that, but what else could she really do?

When YN sent Harry that invite, she certainly didn’t think he’d come. It’s not like she appositely called Jeff and asked — begged — him to free his schedule the day of her wedding. She asked Glenn instead because she’s friendlier with her.

A part of YN still wonders why she did it, from time to time. Maybe, if she was a bad person, she could’ve done it because she wanted Harry to see her happy and in love. But she’s not like that. She could never imagine hurting him in that way.

So, she always comes to the conclusion that maybe she sent the invite because she just misses him. It’s not like she has to have another reason. Missing him is enough.

She knows no one is truly aware of the affection she feels for Harry. What she feels for him isn’t nowhere near what she feels for Graham. In the past, she used to be so scared of feeling such things for another, because with those feelings came the realization that she also had something to lose. And she truly felt like she couldn’t do it without him.

But then, he left her. And she did do it without him. She met Graham, graduated college, and got engaged. And at one point, she felt like she’d give up everything to have Harry beside her again. So, can you blame her if she remembered his address by heart? Can you blame her if she invited him?

Harry feels like a pretentious asshole.

He hates his car; he hates the flashy yellow color of his Ferrari, the sound it makes when he revs the engine and all heads turn to look at him. All but one, because YN’s the only one that recognizes him by the sound of his car. Even five years later.

When he gets out of the car, he feels like everyone’s looking at him, and he doesn’t dare shift his gaze to see if she’s looking at him too. He feels like they all know what he did that night, that he broke her heart. He feels exposed before them.

He’s glad YN invited Jeff and Glenn too, and he waits for them to get out of their car too before approaching the crowd.

“So nice!” Glenn exclaims once she’s out of the car, shutting the passenger’s door loudly behind her.

Harry looks around and has to admit, it really is nice. A nice old cottage in the English countryside, with a big well-kept garden full of flowers he knows it’s where the wedding will take place (because YN loves flowers). It’s nice. He’d be a liar if he said otherwise, but it’s not YN. Because YN, or at least the version he knew of her, wanted to get married in the winter — on Christmas Eve —, in a small chalet with only her close family and friends, where the snow would never stop falling and they’d be forced to stay in with the fireplace popping and wool, chunky blankets to keep everyone warm.

“YN!” He hears Glenn once again, and he shifts his attention to her.

She’s standing on the porch, wrapped in a long black coat definitely too warm for the weather, and despite being far from where he’s standing, he can see her clearly. She hasn’t changed. It’s still her.

Harry doesn’t know what he was expecting. Maybe a more grown up version of her, definitely boring and that kind of resembled her mother a bit. He wasn’t expecting her. The YN he once knew still there, perhaps more beautiful than ever.

He feels his heart skip a beat, and with her walking slowly towards them, waving politely at a couple of guests that stop to greet her on the way, he feels warm. A kind of warm that resembles the one he felt as a kid when he was sick and his mum would take care of him. He feels something that reminds him of a certain familiarity, like he had been floating all this time and he’s finally back on the ground. He feels parts of himself coming back with every step she takes forward.

“Hello” he hears her giggle, and he feels the sound resonate in his chest, spreading all over his body up until the very end of his fingers.

“Hi!” Glenn squeals, shrugging her shoulders and stretching her arms forward, closing YN in a hug between her arms.

“I’m so happy you came” she says, her voice muffled by Glenn’s shoulder, and Harry isn’t sure if she means him too.

She hasn’t exactly looked at him, but Harry isn’t upset about that. He knows her. He knows how she is. She never makes eye contact when she’s uncomfortable. And Harry feels a certain smugness come with it. He’d rather make her uncomfortable than uninterested, because with her uncomfortableness comes the realization that maybe, maybe — deep down, under her skin and rooted in her heart — she did miss him too. And maybe it’s not like Mitch says. Maybe it was his fault and he should’ve fought for her.

However, Harry realizes things always late; because she’s getting married to someone else now.

YN briefly hugs Jeff too, and after that, she smiles awkwardly at Harry and waves at him with her hand, “Hey” she says, her hand dropping by her side.

“Hey” he replies, and he watches as she hugs the coat closer to her body as a sudden gust of wind embraces them, ruffing her hair. Harry can make out the faint scent of her shampoo, and as it fills his nostrils, his mind is swarmed with memories of hot summer nights where they would talk in bed for hours after swimming in his stepdad’s pool all day, minds free of whatever worry a 15 year old could have, sweaty bodies sticky together, tanned skin against skin, Harry not being able to make out where he’d end and she’d begin.

“This place is so nice!” Glenn interrupts, and YN is grateful for that, because she isn’t sure what she would’ve done if Glenn hadn’t talked. She fears she would’ve leaned in to hug Harry if she’d stared a second more into his green eyes.

In the five years they spent apart, YN always wondered if there would come a time when she’d no longer remember the exact shade of green of his eyes and the way they used to twinkle when he’d talk about something he was passionate about.

Now, YN doesn’t know what things Harry’s passionate about, but his eyes are the same color she remembered. Despite the stubble on his chin, and the cheeky grin he used to give her turning in a more mature one, his eyes stayed the same.

“I know, right! Graham picked it, he used to come here on vacation with his family when he was a child” YN smiles happily at Glenn, and turns her body to look around herself.

Harry frowns at her words. Of course Graham picked it. She never would’ve if it was up to her, he knew that. And somehow, call him an asshole all you want, he feels a certain smugness coming with the awareness that he knows YN more than her own fiancee does.

“It’s nice” he agrees, and he smirks at her when she snaps her head in his direction, probably not expecting him to talk, “but I prefer winter weddings, you know? With the snow and everything…”

YN’s happy smile turns in a frown when she hears the words come out of his mouth. She isn’t entirely sure about Harry’s motives. She doesn’t know if he remembers that she wanted to get married in winter or if he’s just expressing a preference. She doesn’t know this Harry anymore.

“It’s beautiful, YN” Jeff chimes in, and YN shifts her glance towards him and smiles at him too.

“Let’s go, then! I want to introduce you to Graham” she exclaims, and turns around, grabbing Glenn by the arm and intertwining it with hers.

“C’mon” Jeff says, patting Harry on the shoulder as an encouragement.

Harry nods and starts to walk beside him, his hands tucked in his pockets as another gust of wind flies over them.

He watches YN walk in front of him, too occupied to talk with Glenn to close her coat against the wind, and he’s sure he can make out the floral design of the Gucci dress he bought her on his vacation to Italy many years ago. How happy she looked when she opened it, and Harry remembers he thought about how much he wanted to buy her every pretty dress in the world if it meant seeing her so happy.

He kisses his mouth at the memory of every dress he saw in those five years and that he thought about buying. Now, knowing she still wears his gifts, he wishes he did. He wishes he bought everything that reminded him of her.

Harry knows it’s just a dress, and he shouldn’t get this flustered over such a simple thing as that! But with it comes the realization that maybe, in her deepest subconscious, she wore it for him. And Harry’s content with that. Because maybe then that means that those five years apart didn’t mean anything. Maybe then she missed him as much as he missed her. And Harry feels warm at the mere thought. Maybe he hasn’t lost her entirely.

Harry met Graham, and everything went somehow fine.

It’s not like she was imagining Harry fighting Graham over her — no, that’s just a thought that pops in her mind every once in a while when she catches herself fantasizing over what her life with Harry could be like.

It’s weird to YN how there’s someone in her life that Harry didn’t know until she introduced him. And not just someone; her future husband. It sets a weird kind of awareness, because until now she was almost pretending Harry was in an island unknown to mankind, without his phone and that’s why he wasn’t calling.

Now, seeing him shake her fiancee’s hand, smiling politely at him, she realizes Harry wasn’t stranded on an island without technology; the missing phone calls were a choice. So she should be happy she’s no longer involved with such a person.

Why isn’t she happy, though? Why does she catches herself wishing she could go up to his room, lay on his bed and talk to him?

She really wishes she could tell him she’s scared of marrying Graham. She knows he could tell him that and he wouldn’t judge her like everyone else would. She knows he’d have the answer. He’d say something like “get your stuff, I’ll start the car” and they’d laugh and run away to the nearest McDonald’s drive through to stuff their mouth with a big mc or some chicken nuggets, and Harry would purposely stain her wedding dress with barbecue sauce, and she’d laugh. As I said before, whenever she catches herself fantasizing about an alternative universe with Harry, she’s alway happy.

So, then, why didn’t she call? Why did she let five years pass? Five years without hearing his voice. Seeing his eyes.

She doesn’t know why.

At first she was mad, because Harry made love to her and then he left. So she was really really mad. Then, after the anger had subdued, she got scared. Scared he didn’t want her anymore. Scared their friendship wouldn’t be like before — now, she thinks it doesn’t matter if their friendship had changed. She wanted Harry around, no matter what.

She’s aware sometimes nostalgia makes you remember things that were never there. But she feels like it was different with Harry; it’s why she’s walking towards his room now, heart in her throat, and hands twitching at her sides.

She wishes it could be easier. She wishes she could be different. She has a fiancee. Why is she going to Harry’s room? Why did she invite him in the first place!

The cottage has six rooms upstairs, and she remembers exactly in which room she put Harry. He’s the only one without a plus one, so his room is smaller than the others. She hopes he liked it, but she knows he didn’t. It’s too fancy, for him. He doesn’t like flashy things, which is kind of ironic for someone who owns six cars, but who is she to judge when she helped him pick the very one he came here with?

When she stops in front of his door, she feels ashamed, and she’s scared someone may catch her, even if she’s not doing anything wrong, just greeting an old friend. But Harry wasn’t always a friend. There was one night in which they were more than friends, and she feels herself fluster at the thought of being alone with him in a bedroom.

She releases a big breath and closes her hand in a fist, knocking it against the door.

When he doesn’t answer she tries again, “Harry, it’s YN”, she clarifies.

Nothing.

She stands before the door for a couple of minutes, but then realizes he’s not going to answer. He doesn’t want to see her.

It’s fine. She’s fine.

She understands, it’s been five years. She can’t pretend nothing has changed between them. She feels stupid when she turns around to head back to her room and a single tear rolls down her cheek. She wipes it away before anyone can see. She refuses to cry. She cried enough when he left.

This gave her the answer she needed. She’s marrying Graham, and if before she wished Harry’d persuade her in not marrying him, she knows he doesn’t care now.

Harry’s sitting on the his bedroom’s floor, freshly showered, his hair still a little damp from the water, waiting near the outlet on the wall for his phone to charge. He’s playing with the chord of his phone’s charger as he listens to his mother rumble on the other side of the line.

He’s not paying much attention to what she’s saying, his mind is definitely more focused on this morning’s encounter he had with YN’s fiancee. Harry tried to be on his best behavior, because despite hating Graham, he loves YN and he wants to be respectful of her choices. Harry has always been someone that never fought for what he wanted. He kind of always went with other’s decisions. He doesn’t know why he’s like this. Sometimes he thinks it’s just easier to let others decide for you, other times he’s aware it’s a matter of accountability: he doesn’t want to be responsible for his own choices, because then if something goes wrong, he doesn’t have anyone to blame but himself.

“How’s YN? I’ve seen her Instagram and she looks even more beautiful” he hears his mum say, and his eyes widen at her words.

“Mmmh, yes, she’s beautiful” Harry agrees, chewing at the skin of his thumb.

“Do you think she’ll have a baby soon?” Anne asks, and Harry almost wants to throw his phone against the wall at the mere thought of the love of his life having a baby with someone else.

“I don’t know, mum… I don’t think so” he shakes his head, but his words aren’t that much convincing to him. He doesn’t know if YN wants to have a baby with Graham. She had expressed her desire to have a big family when they were still friends and when she thought the timing was right, but was it now? Was it with Graham? He honestly doesn’t know.

“You know, I always thought she had a little bit of a crush on you” Anne giggles, almost childishly.

“She’s getting married” Harry says, and his tone suddenly turned stern. He doesn’t want to be rude, especially to his mum, but thoughts of what could’ve been have been hunting him especially hard since he saw her, and he doesn’t want to come to terms with the fact that maybe something could’ve happened between them if he had been a little more brave.

“She isn’t married now” his mum says, and he rolls his lips in his mouth.

Weird enough, he knows what his mother means: she’s giving him an ultimatum, a sweet reminder that there’s still time. She’s not married yet. But what could Harry do? He really wishes someone could tell him. He wants his mum to say, Harry, tell her you love her before it’s too late. And he swears he’d do it. He’d do it right now. But coming up with that decision on his own? He’s not that much impulsive.

“Mum” he says, “I have to go now. It’s time for dinner”.

“Okay, my love.” She replies.

“We’ll talk tomorrow” he nods, and ends the call, throwing his phone in his lap.

He shuts his eyes tightly and his head drops between his knees, his hands reaching up to clutch his hair at the roots.

He feels pathetic. He feels like screaming in a pillow. He picks up his phone again and taps at the scree to check the time: 7.37 pm. At this time tomorrow the love of his life will be married to someone that’s not him.

Harry is late. Everyone has already eaten their appetizer and he still hasn’t shown up. Yn knows she probably shouldn’t care, especially after he didn’t answer the door after she knocked on it three times feeling like a naive teenager with a school crush. But still. She wonders what he’s doing. It’s not like she blames him, this dinner is pretty boring, and coming from the bride says a lot! But Graham especially requested no music and no dancing while eating, so the room is kind of quiet, albeit for a soft giggle or whispered words every once in a while.

She’s biting in her pasta when Harry walks in, and suddenly she feels breathless. He’s beautiful. The kind of beautiful that warms her insides and reminds her of the color yellow, the sun shining when they visited Rome together, the tan he used to get at his stepdad’s pool when she’d spend hours looking at his lips while he sunbathed and she wondered if they tasted like chlorine. Beautiful.

He walks slowly towards where he spots Jeff and Glenn, and YN looks at him shamelessly; he’s wearing cream tailored pants that hug his tights perfectly, paired with a silky blue blouse tucked at the front of the pants. She swallows the mouthful of pasta. When they were friends he definitely didn’t dress like that, he was more into skinny jeans and flowery button down shirts. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t like him like this. But, must I dare say, she’d like Harry even if he was wearing a trash bag.

He throws her an awkward smile before sitting down, and she shifts her eyes down on her plate, suddenly aware of being caught staring.

As dinner goes on, she never raises her eyes from her plate, not even when she feels a familiar pair of green eyes burning her skin.

YN pushes her palm against the wooden door and takes in a big breath once the fresh spring air hits her warm face. She takes a step outside and the door closes behind her with a thump. She cringes at the sound and hopes it didn’t wake anyone up.

It’s almost one in the morning and she couldn’t sleep. She doesn’t know wether it’s pre-wedding anxiety or the thought of another universe soon to be lost forever, but she felt a heavy weight on her chest that made it hard to breathe.

She looks at the garden before her and decides she wants to take a walk in the rose garden. She’s always loved flowers, and she thinks seeing some beauty could help her clear her mind.

She makes her way down the cobbled path, illuminated by some lamps paved across the way, but when she reaches the start of the rose garden, she has to blink a few times to accustom her eyes to the darkness.

The garden is the only thing she likes about her wedding location, and she’s thankful Graham agreed to get married there. He decided everything else, so at least he left that part up to her.

When she turns the corner of the hedge that divided the rose garden from the location of the wedding, she’s surprised to see a dark figure sitting in one of the reception’s chair.

She walks closer and she’s able to make out a familiar pair of broad shoulders bent over. Harry’s sitting on a chair from the first row, his head hanging low between his shrugged shoulders, his legs are slightly opened and his forearm is resting on one of his tights, the bright fire red of what she knows is a joint illuminating the side of his face.

She’d recognize Harry even in darkness, but she still feels her heart fall to her chest when she realizes he’s right in front of her, sitting probably where he’d be tomorrow.

She debates whether she should go sit next to him or go back to her room and pretend she never saw him. It’s almost like she can’t control her own legs when they start to walk towards him.

With the movement, Harry turns his head around and his eyes widen at the sight; YN’s walking towards him, but what’s most shocking to him is that she’s making her way down the aisle. He suddenly gets up on his feet when he sees her, and when she stops right in front of him, she gives him a mischievous smile.

She’s breath taking. If this is what Graham will see tomorrow, he doesn’t know how he’ll manage not to faint.

“Walked like a true bride!” He says jokingly, and she giggles at his words, slapping his chest lightly. Harry feels the skin burn under her touch.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks, and she shakes her head.

“Can I?” She says, gesturing to the lit joint he’s holding between his fingers. He’d almost forgotten what he was doing before she appeared.

“Mhmh” he nods, stretching his arm.

She doesn’t take the joint from his fingers though, she just opens her mouth and waits for him to place it between her lips, and Harry swears he can feel himself faint, his head dizzy with all the love he feels for her.

He holds the joint between her lips and she takes a long drag from it, tilting her head towards his fingers, closing her eyes after she inhales. She opens her mouth again and opens her eyes as she exhales the smoke from her mouth, Harry watching closely her every movement, his eyes dark and glazed over.

He watches as she turns around and sits on one of the white chairs, the one next to where he was sitting before, and she tugs one leg to her chest as she hugs it closer to her chest.

Harry stays standing before her for a while, looking at the faint image of the cottage behind her and absentmindedly smoking his joint. When he feels her eyes on him, he looks down at her. It’s been years since they’ve been this close, and suddenly he’s 15 years old again, his hands twitching at his sides from how much he wants to stretch them out and just touch her.

“Graham is nice” he says, and immediately after he cursers himself in his mind for ruining the moment when he sees her gaze harden.

“Yeah, he is…” she whispers.

Harry tilts the joint towards her to ask her if she wants another hit, but she shakes her head no and he drops his hand at his side, nodding his head.

“I really like the place, by the way. I was only teasing this morning” he shrugs, smiling at her.

“You were?” She asks, and when he nods she says, “so you remember?”

“Of course I remember.” And he doesn’t have to say anything more, because they both know what he means.

“Graham picked everything” she releases a shaky breath at that, and Harry takes another drag from his joint and raises both his eyebrows to signal her to continue as he exhales the smoke from his mouth.

“I wasn’t… I didn’t want this” she shakes her head, shifting her gaze from his eyes to an indefinite point behind him.

Harry wonders whether she means the cottage or the wedding. Perhaps she even means their fight. He doesn’t know and he doesn’t dare ask, ignoring the voice in his head telling him that maybe she’s offering him an opening to a conversation he isn’t sure he wants to have.

“I’m sure it’ll be wonderful anyway.” He smiles and throws the joint’s butt on the grass.

“Yeah” she nods firmly, and he’s aware of the tension lingering between them.

“I better go,” she says, getting up from the chair and tugging at the sleeves of her sweater to cover her hands “big day tomorrow”.

She smiles awkwardly at him when she walks past him, and Harry notices the smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

He shifts his gaze in front of him, staring out in the darkness. He’s about to lose her all over again, the bitter night five years prior vivid in his memory, hitting him like a bullet. He thought the pain from leaving her that night had left, and he wonders how much time it will take for it to stop hurting. Maybe it never will.

He’s sure he doesn’t want to live his life with the memory of her back planted in his brain, leaving him once again. He doesn’t want to think back to her and remember her like this. Leaving.

So, when she’s about mid way through the aisle, he calls her name.

He doesn’t have a speech in his mind, and when she turns around with her brows furrowed and her shoulders sagged he doesn’t really know what to say, how to tell her.

“What, Harry?” It’s the first time he hears her say his name in five years, and he’s upset she sounds so defeated. He wishes he could make this easier for her, but he doesn’t know how.

His chest floats as he takes a big breath.

“Whatever” she says, shaking her head, but Harry notices she doesn’t turn around.

“Don’t marry him” it’s the only thing he manages to say, and he isn’t even looking at her, he’s still looking out in front of him, and she wishes he could look at her to see if he’s joking or not.

She scoffs, because despite the words coming out of his mouth made her insides warm , she isn’t sure if he’s being serious. “You’re so… so immature! You enrage me!”

“No, no!” He hurries, waving his palms in front of him. “Hear me out, then you can — you can leave. if you want you can leave.” He nods, trying to convince himself, but he really doesn’t want her to leave.

“Don’t marry him. You know he’s not right for you! He… he’s controlling, he doesn’t know you! You shouldn’t marry someone like that.” He’s standing in front of her now, and he grabs her hands in his.

“Is that the only reason you don’t want me to marry him?” She whispers, looking up in his eyes.

“No… i-“ he sighs.

“You can’t even say it, Harry.” She frowns, trying to free her hands from his grip, but he only tightens it, intertwining his fingers with hers.

“I can say it.” He nods, “i don’t want you to marry him because I want it to be me. I— I have loved you since I could remember.”

She shuts her eyes tightly at his words, “you don’t mean that”.

Harry frees her hands and reaches for her face, caressing her warm cheeks with his thumbs.

“I do. I do.” He nods, “look at me, angel — please look at me”

YN opens her eyes and Harry can feel his heart clench at the sight of her beautiful eyes filled with tears.

“You had me, Harry. All those years ago, you had me. But you let me go! You have no idea how… how hard it was”

This time, Harry closes his eyes and then reopens them, despite being aware, the thought of making her suffer is hard to face.

“I thought… I didn’t…—“ he shakes his head, his hands still keeping the firm grip on her face, “my life was hard, YN. It was crazy. I thought… you weren’t ready. I didn’t want to ruin you.”

“You did anyway. I hated you for what you did to me. I hated you for leaving.” She frowns, tears spilling from her eyes, but Harry wipes quickly at them with his thumb before they can roll down her cheeks. He leans down to place a delicate kiss between her eyes.

“I never once left you. In my heart it has always been you.”

He can feel her start to soften, but the she says “It’s too late now.”, and she shakes her head, her hands reaching up to remove Harry’s from her face. He complies, not wanting to force her. “I’m getting married, tomorrow.”

“Angel, please” he whispers, but she’s already turned around, and Harry’s left alone in the middle of the aisle.

Suddenly he feels nauseous, and he brings a hand to his chest to calm his restless heart. As I said before, Harry realizes things always too late.

The next morning, Harry wakes up on his bed with the sound of an alarm he forgot he’d set. As he rubs the sleep off his eyes, he can’t wait to get the hell out of this place as soon as he can, and when he reaches for his phone and checks the time, he remembers why he set the alarm so early in the morning: this way he can avoid everyone from the ceremony on his way out.

He can’t bare the thought of sitting through the wedding. He’ll send YN some fancy gift that she’ll enjoy with her husband and then he’ll disappear from her life once again.

He knows it’s better this way.

He did it one time before. He knows already how long it will take to mourn their lost friendship and get back on track. The sooner he goes home and sleeps his feelings off, the sooner he’ll feel better.

He hurriedly throws his clothes in his suitcase, without caring if they get wrinkly or ruined. He grabs his phone and its charger and doesn’t even bother to check the bathroom twice to see if he left something behind. He doesn’t care, he’s eager to get far away and never face the heartbreak he’s leaving with.

As soon as he opens the door, though, the bag in his hand falls from his grip to the ground as he takes in the image in front of him.

YN’s against the other side of the wall, her head hung low between her shoulders.

“YN?” He asks, and she looks at him with her big, glossy eyes, and Harry feels like staying. He feels like grabbing her hand and tugging her inside, kissing her until he’s finally able to show her how much he loves her.

“I’m not… I—“ she shakes her head, her voice trembling as she gets her back off the wall and takes a step towards him, “i called the wedding off.”

It’s the only thing she says, but Harry feels butterflies fly in his stomach. His heart clenches in his chest, and he has to bring a hand to his chest like he did the night before to make sure he’s not having a heart attack.

“It’s not too late.” She whispers, “if you still want me, it’s not too late.”

Harry reaches up to her and tugs her closer to him by her arm.

“I’ll never not want you”.

YN steps in the room and closes the door behind her, and Harry gently takes her face in his hands and tilts her head up. He looks from one eye to the other attentively before placing his lips against hers, and he almost contemplates not closing his eyes in fear she’d no longer be there when he reopens them, but YN moves her hands from his neck, to his shoulders, and he feels her grabbing his shirt between her fingers and holding him closer, her fingers digging in his skin. She’s real. She’s here, and he’s kissing her. It’s been five years since he’s last tasted her, and this time he’s kissing her without guilt. Because it’s not too late. Life just started.

YN parts her lips slightly and Harry sucks her bottoms lip in his mouth, eager to taste her more.

His tongue licks over her lips and when she whimpers against his lips, he sneaks his tongue inside her mouth and caresses hers with his. He explores her mouth like his life depends on it, and he feels like he wants to drink her. He wants to get drunk on her taste and never recover.

YN moves her hands from his shoulders to the hem of his shirt, tugging on it, and Harry parts from her mouth breathlessly. He feels dizzy and he’s not entirely sure it’s from the lack of air.

“No” he says, taking her hands in his and squeezing them in his grasp.

YN pouts at him and he tilts his head to kiss it away from her lips with a brief peck: “i want you. I really do. But not here”.

She widens her eyes at his words and realizes she was almost about to have sex with Harry when her ex fiancee and his family could hear them. She giggles loudly at the thought, and Harry, despite not knowing why she’s laughing, lets out a chuckle, shaking his head and looking at her with a bewildered look in his eyes.

“Let’s leave then.” She says when she calms down.

“Okay.” He nods, picking up his bag from the floor, “get your stuff. I’ll start the car.”

YN bites down on her bottom lip hard, trying to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“What?” He says once he realizes she still hasn’t moved from her place.

She shakes her head, “nothing” she says, “i’m glad I wasn’t too late.”

“You could never be too late” he smiles, and he hopes she knows he’d wait for her all his life if it meant having her beside him.

#harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harrystyles #harry styles #harry syles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #best friend!harry #friends to lovers

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wehaveimagineshere · 11 months

Note

could i request task force 141 + könig always admiring their s/o’s photo when they’re feeling lonely and starting to miss them pls

This is so cute omg. I had so much fun writing this 💕💕

Also reader is AFAB since it was not specified otherwise but only mentioned in Price’s and König’s

Also TW mentions of children but only in König’s

Price

• John would be sitting at his desk, stressed from trying to come up with infiltration plans for the safe house their target is staying at. To his left, something caught his eye. Sitting on his desk was a small framed picture

• It’s of your wedding day. You’re in your beautiful wedding dress that took you weeks to find because you wanted a specific look and he is in a traditional black tux. He had just started growing out his beard when you got married

• You were high school sweethearts. You met freshman year and you both immediately fell in love with each other

• In the photo you’re staring lovingly into each other’s eyes while having your first dance as husband and wife

• It was the happiest day of his life so far and he rubs his thumb across your face as he fondly recalls the memory

• It’s been two months since he left on mission. He misses you so much and he can’t wait to come home and hold you on his arms again

Ghost

• It would one of those sleepless nights where Simon really realizes that he misses you sleeping next to him. Your body heat and comfort always lulling him to sleep

• But you’re currently on another mission right now and left well before his ended. He hasn’t seen you in 3 months

• He switches on the light and gets up to pull out a box from underneath his bed which has several pictures of you together over the years and letters you’ve written him. He pulls out his favorite picture which was sitting on top

• He’s maskless in the picture and you’re arm in arm and both smiling brightly at the camera. It’s when you’re both home after a lengthy mission and taking a well deserved break

• He stares at it for what feels like hours. He misses you so much. He hasn’t received a letter or even a phone call in a few days and he’s praying that you’re okay. He falls asleep with the photo clutched to his chest

• You come back to back to base a few hours later and smile at the sight. You keep glancing at him to make sure you don’t wake up as you get undressed and join him in bed where he subconsciously pulls you in and hugs you tight

Soap

• Johnny will be on the plane after he just hugged and kissed you goodbye when he already starts missing you

• It’s only been about two hours since the plane took off. Since he saw you waving from the tarmac with tears in both of your eyes

• There’s no service in the air to message you so he resorts to looking at your photos. He taps on his phone and sees a picture you took together as his lock screen. He smiles to himself as he opens the Photos app

• He has an album of just pictures of you and him together over the years. Some that he’s taken in secret. With you just doing everyday tasks or taking a nap on the couch

• He’s most favorite being the family photo you took with him and his family one Christmas a few years back. His family absolutely adored you. His mom has even jokingly told him that she likes you better than him, which made him laugh and feel so much pride in his heart

• He loved you so much. As he stares at the picture he feels a sharp pang in his chest. These next few months are going to be hell. But he knows that you’re being well taken care of by the people he loves most

Gaz

• You and Kyle were both recruited into 141 by Price but unfortunately, you’re always separated. He with Price and you with Ghost

• He would be resting at a safe house waiting for Price’s next orders when he pulls out a picture that was hidden in a pocket on the inside of his jacket by his heart

• It’s a picture of the both of you decked out in complete military uniforms not too long after you joined 141. He remembers how excited you both were to be part of something so important to not only the country, but the world

• In the picture it’s just the two of you, but you can see some of 141 in the background. He has his arm slung over your shoulder and you’re throwing up your signature peace sign. Both of you so giddy and excited for the future

• He feels his eyes start to burn a bit while looking at your face. The memory is bittersweet. You both thought that you would constantly be teamed up together but he’s lucky if he gets to see you once every 2 months

• When Price walks in on him looking at the picture, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the Sergeant. But he tells him that he has good news, it’s time to go home. And you’re there waiting for him

König

• König retired from the military early. A few years after you had gotten together. He realized that he couldn’t stay away from you for long periods of time or he’d get extremely antsy and worried about your safety without him there. You were so beautiful and some people would take it too far

• Shortly after he retired you got married and bought a cottage together in a quiet village in Austria. Surrounded by beautiful mountains and a crystal clear lake

• You were out with family you hadn’t seen in a long time with your 3 children and he decided to stay home and clean the house a bit when he stumbles across an old photo album you had put together

• In it was a timeline of your relationship. The picture he focuses on was of your first date. He wore a surgical mask and all black, trying to hide his identity since he wasn’t comfortable showing strangers who he was in fear someone would somehow recognize him

• Then König turns his eyes to look at you standing next to him. You look bright and lively. You’re wearing a baby pink dress with the brightest smile on your face. The stark opposite of him. He remembers that date fondly. It’s where you had your first kiss

• He has never felt so much love in his life like how he feels for you and the 3 beautiful children you gifted him. He wonders how you put up with him all these years. But he’s so glad you did

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izukuisbaby · 2 years

Note

Can I request when reader meets Izuku’s mom? Mama Midoriya is so sweet

⊹˚.⋆ MEETING INKO AS IZUKU'S PARTNER - MY HERO ACADEMIA

℘. flora's notes : absolutely anon, mama midoriya loves u

℘. female, gn, male reader xx

m.list | comment or reblog if you enjoyed !

℘. izuku was soooo anxious, this was an important step in your relationship, maybe the most important after proposing to you (which he is planning on doing)

℘. inko has such great taste when it comes to decoration, you feel immediately at home because everything is so cosy and so warm

℘. she checked with izu at least 3 times for the food, she wanted to please you so she made your fav 🥰

℘. inko is the type of mom who will show you the family photo album

℘. you three sitting on the couch, izu beside you and inko next to you

℘. "Look at izuku's cute little baby butt there, y/n !"

℘. not to state the obvious but izu is 100% as red as a tomato

℘. INKO LOVES YOU, she never thought izu would get a partner because he's sooo socially anxious

℘. i feel like inko is great at sewing, izu visits her before or after his shifts and she gives him little piece of clothing for you

℘. custom made gloves, dresses, suits, skirts, trousers... half of your wardrobe is made by her, and she perfectly respects your personal style, she doesn't make those grandma looking clothes no. INKO IS A MOTHER WHO KNOWS.

℘. she's the first to know about izu's proposal and already starts making the wedding dress/wedding suit. izu was close to tears

℘. she often texts you after izu's visits. everytime he goes, he talks about you and how amazing you are and she just sends a text like

℘. "izuku visited today, you two were made for each other. i am always worried about my son but knowing that he comes home to you relieves me. i see how much you love and care for him. you're a good person y/n, see you soon💓"

℘. she's just the best mother in law 🥲🥲

2K notes · View notes

wambsgansshoelaces · 8 months

Note

i loveee you work! i was wondering if you’d be willing to write a roman x reader fic that’s kinda anyone but you vibes where she’s in shiv’s wedding party and her and roman hate each but have to pretend to get along for the weekend. this is so random but i’ve been stuck on this idea lately.

also for music recs i’d totally recommend eliza mclamb, i love her stuff and she has a new album coming out this friday.

xoxo!

Baby’s Breath

Roman Roy x Reader

oneshot

ahh I’m so so sorry this is extremely late!! I promise I’ll do better anons waiting. I hope you like it, though!! I honestly do not have the patience to slowburn but I hope I still wrote what you wanted. thank you so much for requesting, I love you anon <33

I’m also really sorry i haven’t been posting fics recently!! I’m getting to it all haah. I really hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think xxx

also, I listen to eliza mclamb now…

Word Count: 2.557k

“Roman and Y/N, you’re walking together.”

Immediately, the two of you exchange a strained look. You and Shiv are long time friends, having met in elementary school and been attached at the hip ever since. At some point in your life, you were spending more time at the Roy household with Shiv and her siblings then you were with your actual family. You and Kendall got along just fine- he was too quiet for your liking, anyway, and would just listen when you spoke. He’d give you advice in that soft way of his, and to this day you don’t think you’ve ever heard him raise his voice.

Roman, on the other hand?

Every conversation you’ve ever had with him had ended in some sort of argument. It’s not that you necessarily had opposing viewpoints, but rather you both wanted to be heard, almost always at the same time. The two of you have been clashing since the first time you’d gone over to their house, when you’d bickered over who got the pink Wii remote.

You weren’t going to argue over this, though. It was Shiv’s big day, and you were going to make sure it goes exactly how she wants it to. You weren’t going to be the reason she gets stressed out on her wedding day.

She continues on, giving the rundown on the rehearsal dinner. Everyone’s expected to be there at five p.m. sharp, in their places at five thirty.

She and her fiance decided that their wedding was going to be abroad, and your flight out to Athens is tonight. Shiv had gotten the entire bridal and groom’s party together just to go over everything beforehand.

She’d finished speaking a while ago, and you’re now sat scrolling through your notes app making sure you have everything at home ready to take with you to Greece. You were helping Shiv move a few of her things, like a few suitcases of clothing for her honeymoon, and were also bringing a gift for the couple.

You’re absorbed in your mental check listing, but you still feel the couch under you bow a little with the weight of someone sitting down next to you.

“We can get along for the next two weeks, can’t we?”

“I’d hope so, Roman.”

“As long as you don’t instigate anything,” he amends, looking up to meet your gaze.

“If I don’t instigate anything?”

“There you go, instigating.” You suppress a sigh, pressing your lips together, causing him to crack a smile. “So much better.”

“I’m only doing this for Shiv,” you remind him. “As soon as this is all over, I’m going back to praying you get clotheslined.”

“I wanted to ask if you wanted to do the matchy thing.”

“Don’t we have to?”

“I mean, yeah, but I was thinking I get you a corsage, you know? And I put matching flowers in my breast pocket. Maid of honor and best man and everything. So that we look good in photos.” His face pinkens as he speaks, and he’s suddenly unable to look you in the eye.

“I think that’d be cute,” you say honestly. The bridesmaid dresses were a muted lavender, the groomsmen’s suits a deep black. You knew they all had pocket squares to match, but Roman’s suggestion is strangely thoughtful. You like it.

“Okay. Great. I’ll text you,” he manages, pausing a bit to look over at you before getting up and leaving.

And he does.

You’re swaddled in bed, invigorating face mask on before you have to fly nine hours. He’s sent you a screenshot of a Google search on his phone.

help, he sends after it.

The search is just ‘pretty purple flower’.

look into baby’s breath, you send back.

what the fuck

is that a fucking flower

yes

what a godawful name

There’s a short pause as he presumably searches it up. He sends you another screenshot, this time of rows of photos of the flower.

yeah, those

can i find them here?

You don’t know why he’s asking you, but you respond.

probably

you’re already in athens?

but what if i can’t?

yeah, flew out after shiv’s town hall

then order fake ones online

god, you’re not very helpful

You think he’s done texting, but he sends you another five minutes later.

fuck you

You have to get to the airport bright and early the next morning. You can barely blink the sleep away from your eyes as you shuffle to your terminal, having checked your obscene amount of luggage with the help of a scary looking driver the Roys employ.

You’re bored out of your mind as you wait impatiently in line to board the plane. Shiv had gotten you a first-class ticket, so you at least had that to look forward to.

You’re delighted when you get on the plane and find a massive, plush seat waiting for you. You stick your carry-on into the overhead compartment and relax.

You sleep through the entire flight. Your seat converted into a bed, and you were provided with the softest pillow and blanket you’ve ever touched. You fell asleep the minute your eyes shut.

You don’t realize something’s wrong until you’re inside the airport.

Since you’d spent almost your whole life in close orbit of the Roys, you weren’t unfamiliar with the press. They knew who you were, you knew who they were. They endlessly pissed Shiv off. She’d done her best to keep her spouse-to-be out of the spotlight, to give them both as normal of a life as possible. The press was overly invasive, and when it came to her family in specific, destructive.

Which is why you suppose the press is targeting you.

A few flashes go off, and immediately, reporters are in your face. You don’t know how they were let in to the terminals, how they were allowed to get so close. You feel the heat creep up your neck. You don’t like the attention- especially not this kind.

You try to push through, but you can’t. They’re incessant, and all you have in your hands is your sweater and your suitcase. You have your headphones on, and you do your best to keep your eyes averted. Despite the fact that you can’t hear anything, you just know they’re demanding comments on Shiv’s marriage and her relationships.

Before you give up entirely, the crowd is shouldered apart by a built man you recognize as employed by the Roys. He’s immediately at your side, arm closing around your shoulder, and helping you bulldoze through the crowd.

You’re frazzled, trying to stamp down the anxiety swirling in your chest. You make a mental note to thank Shiv for thinking ahead. You’re guided out into a private parking garage and pointed to a car. You’re then told that all of the luggage you’d brought would be retrieved, as it was all tagged, and you’d be off the moment you could.

You climb into the backseat of the car, just to find Roman waiting for you.

He’s worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth, but he visibly relaxes once you slide into the seat next to him. Neither of you say anything until he glances sideways at you.

“I saw your face on an article online an hour ago. Someone posted your flight details. I was worried,” he offers lamely.

You blanch. “How do they even get that information?” you ask, voice cracking.

“I, uh, don’t know, but I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if you got hurt.”

Neither of you say anything the entire way to the hotel.

It all feels wrong. The caring, the thoughtfulness. It feels like it shouldn’t be happening. But you like it. You like this side of him. It makes you happy.

All of your bickering had always been pointless, anyway. It’s not like you have some real vendetta against him. You hope he looks at you the same way.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, breaking the silence. “Thank you for thinking about me.” Shiv hadn’t. ๋࣭ ⭑

The day of the wedding, you’re rushing around, getting things done for Shiv. You’re running here and there, making sure the vendors know what they’re doing, making sure not a single hair is out of place. The entire day needs to be perfect. She deserves as much.

Your dress is on, your makeup is done, your hair is up. You’re all ready, and now you just need to make sure everyone else is, too. You aren’t about to let anything go wrong.

The makeup artist starts on Shiv, and you run over to the groom’s suite to check on them. You knock softly, and Roman slips out to meet you. He’s just in a plain cotton shirt and sweats.

“Are you not getting ready? Pictures are in an hour,” you tell him.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be fine. They’re all pre-gaming.” They all were. You can tell Roman is not.

“Can we take this seriously? We can’t have anybody be late. If we have to wait for anybody, then the entire schedule gets fucked up.”

“Fuckin’… calm down. We’ll be fine. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

Miffed, but not in the mood to argue any further, you give him a look. “If you’re not all ready within the hour, I’ll kill all the groomsmen and then myself. Fucking hurry, Roman.”

You turn to leave, but he catches your elbow. “What asshole did up your dress?” he asks, annoyance seeping into his voice. He tugs you back to him, and you feel his hands smooth over your back, hunting for the string edges that controlled your corset. “Tell me if I go too tight.”

He pulls, slowly and softly, as to not disturb you. He stops when your dress sits snugly on your body, as it’s supposed to, and ties it tightly. He takes a half-step back, admiring his handiwork, hands ghosting over the curves of your hips.

“That feels a lot better,” you tell him.

His eyes flit up and down your body. “Looks a lot better, too. Whoever did that is trying to see you fail.” He trails off, but it looks like he wants to say something else. He’s in a sort of a daze, stare at you. He can’t seem to look away. He snaps out of it soon enough, and you come to realize it’d given you a rush of satisfaction to see him eyeing you like that. You liked it. “Fuck off. I have to get ready.”

So you do.

You make your way down to the ceremony space, inspecting everything. Thankfully, all is well, and nothing is out of place. Everything’s calm, quiet, and nearing perfection.

The time comes for you to help Shiv into her dress, and you’re both emotional, on the brink of tears. You tell her she looks beautiful, because she does, and you help lead her to her first look, where all of the couple’s portraits will be taken before the entire group gets together.

After you step out of the room, leaving them to it, Roman’s making his way up the hallway, this time dressed in a crisp black tuxedo, lavender pocket square tucked neatly.

“Hey, I’m glad you’re here. I have something to give to you,” he says, and you notice the small box gripped in his hand. You have to admit, he looks good in black tie dress. You could get used to the sight of him like this, every bit of clothing tailored exactly to his measurements. Not that you exactly found him unappealing other times, though. Because you certainly found him appealing.

He pops the box open, taking out a delicate corsage made up of purple and white baby’s breath. You have no idea where he got the thing, but it’s gorgeous. You offer your hand when he stretches out his own, and he carefully slips the corsage onto your wrist, adjusting it so that it’s straight. He keeps his eye on it, making sure it’s sitting perfectly on you before pulling away.

“It’s so pretty,” you murmur.

“I’d hoped you’d like it,” he murmurs back. “But, uh, if you don’t mind, I need some help.” He gestures vaguely at his breast pocket, where the pocket square currently sits all by itself. He takes you back to the groomsmen’s suite, beckoning you inside. He goes to root around in his stuff, which is all in a clumped pile in the corner of the massive bedroom. He cautiously takes out a glass tin, a single stem of white baby’s breath identical to the one on your wrist contained inside. “Every time I try putting it in it sticks out weird,” he clarifies, looking up at you, embarrassment tinging his features. “And, uh, you’re the only one who’ll give me the time of day.”

Your heart drops a bit. You feel bad, so you take the tin from him and motion for him to turn and face you. He does.

Roman doesn’t look you in the eyes as your hands smooth out his blazer. Again, these tender moments between the two of you felt like they shouldn’t be happening. It felt so right, though, you felt so at home, letting your hands linger on his chest. You gently tuck the stem of the flower into his breast pocket, letting it peek over and starkly contrast both the color of his suit and the pocket square. You smooth out any wrinkles you can find on his blazer, your hands sliding over the fronts of his shoulders, down his sides, over his stomach.

His face reddens, but he doesn’t stop you.

“You look nice,” you say quietly, straightening out his tie. He catches your hand before it leaves him, keeping it pressed to his chest.

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You… you’re handsome.”

“You, uh, you’re always the prettiest out of all of them. All the time. Like, I’ll see other girls, but I… I always know they’ll never hold a torch to you. I always think- I mean, I know I’d just be happier with you.”

Your face heats, and you can’t help the smile that begins to spread over your face. He moves your hand from his chest up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Since when?” you ask, trying to keep yourself together as he turns your hand over and litters kisses along your palm.

“Since forever. I’ve been crushing on you since you yanked the Wii-mote from me then beat my ass in Super Smash Bros.”

You let out an airy giggle. “I’m sorry our relationship’s never been… amicable ’till now.”

Roman lets go of your hand, instead winding his arms around your hips and pulling you flush against him. “Don’t know what that means,” he says simply, fingers going up to brush gently along your jaw. He’s careful not to mess up your makeup or hair. He just wants to touch you. “Just glad you’re here.” His gaze flickers down to your lips. “Can I…?”

You don’t answer, instead leaning forward to capture his lips in a kiss. He makes a strangled noise at the contact, hand adjusting to instead cup your jaw, anchoring you to him. He immediately deepens the kiss, and you swear you can taste the universe on his tongue.

#roman roy #roman roy x reader #roman roy x you #succession #succession hbo #succession fic #succession x reader #wambsgansshoelaces #anon ask #requests open

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tiannasfanfic · 1 year

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GossipWeb

Eddie Munson x Reader (Angst)

| Eddie Munson & Steddie Masterlist |

Summary: If you want to stay up to date on celebrity gossip, GossipWeb is the site to subscribe to! Monday’s Weekend Roundup for July 17 has an update on Corroded Coffin, and you should totally check it out!

Author Note: Modern Rockstar!Eddie AU. Reader not mentioned in this first part, but will be in future installments so I went ahead and labeled it as an x Reader fic. Written in the style of a gossip column.

CW: Mentions of divorce; mentions of alcoholism and drug addiction; mention of a fistfight.

(The following is an excerpt from the July 17, 2023 edition of The Weekend Roundup, a gossip column posted every Monday afternoon on GossipWeb.com and the GossipWeb app.)

Wedding bells are in the air for model Chrissy Munson and nature photographer David Greggs. The pair have officially announced their engagement on Sunday via social media, confirming recent rumors.

The happy couple shared the news on their respective Instagram accounts, showing photos of the two happily embracing on a beach at sunset. In one, Munson is holding out her hand to show off the huge sapphire and diamond engagement ring now sitting on her finger.

“I said YES!” Munson captioned her photo while Greggs captioned his, “She said YES!”

The pair first made headlines back in 2021, when they were spotted having dinner together just a few weeks after Munson filed for divorce from Corroded Coffin’s frontman, Eddie Munson.

While “Irreconcilable differences” were listed in the official court filing, representatives for both Eddie and Chrissy have declined to comment further on the matter. In the social media post announcing the divorce, Chrissy took a diplomatic path, stating, “Sometimes our plans in life just don’t work out the way we want them to. Unfortunately, this is one of those times. I wish Eddie nothing but the best and wish nothing but happiness for him. While our marriage may be over, he will always hold a special place in my heart.”

But, while her words made it sound like the split was an amicable one, many have their doubts it was that simple.

Rumors had been circulating regarding her ex husband’s hard partying lifestyle for years. Insiders have come forward to provide accounts of escalating drug and alcohol abuse, and extremely irrational and erratic behavior from the rockstar. Shortly after the divorce filing, it was reported to multiple news outlets that an intervention was been staged for Munson just a few days prior to the court filing, but it had failed.

In related news, the former members of Corroded Coffin are continuing to stay busy and are enjoying far more laid back schedules.

Following a highly successful album with their band Fallen Shadows, Jeff Richards and Grant Lee have announced a small, twenty city tour that will occur early next year. While the dates and cities are still to be determined, the two are looking forward to getting back on the road.

“It’s been awhile, but we’re itching to get back out there,” Richards stated in a Facebook post. “There’s nothing like bringing our music out into the world and sharing it in person with the fans.”

But Gareth Emerson hasn’t been so eager to return to the spotlight.

Following a successful stay at the Betty Ford Center, which he entered in December 2019, Emerson says he has done a lot of thinking about his life and who he wants to be, both as a person and an artist.

“The stress I was constantly putting myself under was ultimately my downfall,” he explained in a Facebook post full of self reflection. “And one of the biggest stressors for me was the constant need to promote myself, to sell myself basically. I stopped feeling like a person and started feeling like a piece of meat. In this business, it doesn’t take long before you start getting treated like a machine and you start looking for ways to cope. And, usually, you find yourself coping by turning to drugs. Now I don’t have to just cope because I refuse to put myself back in that stressful position.”

Emerson continues to write and record new music, which he releases on iTunes under his own name. While he’s leaning heavily into experimental sounds, his new style seems to be gravitating towards a blend of classic rock n’ roll, folk and heavy metal. It’s not a combination you would expect to hear from a speed metal drummer, but Emerson clearly has hidden talents he’s only just starting to show the world.

As for the frontman and lead guitarist, Eddie Munson, unfortunately, there’s not much can be said.

The statement from Corroded Coffin announcing their hiatus came in late 2019 just a few days after Munson and Emerson’s very publicized fistfight at the UK Music Video Awards. While he virtually dropped out of the spotlight as a musician in the following months, Munson was frequently in the news due to his excess partying and rowdy behavior.

Then, in 2022, he unexpectedly disappeared from the LA party scene, only to resurface a few months later in his old hometown of Hawkins, Indiana.

Representatives for Munson have declined to comment, so the true reasons for his returning to Hawkins are still unclear. The rocker has yet to make any return trips home to California within the last eighteen months since his departure. This adds credibility to a more recent rumor we reported on last week that Munson is in negotiations to sell his Malibu home to a private seller.

Perhaps the rockstar has finally turned over a new leaf?

Some signs point to yes.

Earlier this year, Gareth Emerson’s wife, actress Kim Simmons-Emerson, sent well wishes to Eddie in a heartfelt Instagram post. She posted an old photo of Munson and Emerson from high school with the caption, “Today marks a new beginning for old friends. We’re so proud of you. We knew you could do it.”

Subscribe to our free newsletter to stay up to date on any new developments!

#eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson series #eddie munson au #eddie munson x chrissy cunningham #eddie munson imagines #rockstar!eddie munson

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renxzs · 1 year

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Flight to Orynth x Rowaelin | AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: Aelin’s flight is delayed due to inclement weather. Thankfully she has a certain silver haired stranger to keep her company.

Word Count: 4.3k

CW: nsfw (18+ only), strangers in an airport, slight praise kink, modern au

Aelin: September 9th

Lysandra: ???

Aelin: Save the date. For my upcoming wedding to the hottest fucking male I’ve ever laid my eyes upon. 🥵

Lysandra: SEND PIC

Aelin: hahaha, uh no.

Lysandra: Aelin!! pleeaasse

Aelin: I’m not snapping a photo of a stranger like a fucking creep.

Lysandra: May I remind you of our trip to Wendlyn last summer…

Aelin’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly with a snort. Her best friend loved to play dirty.

Her gaze cut up across the sitting area to the unsuspecting male. His nose continued to be buried in a novel. Of course, he just had to be a reader, too. Gods help her.

Aelin: FINE

Lysandra: 😁😘

Her heart thudded wildly in her chest as her eyes were drawn back to the silver haired male still focused on his book. She wasn’t normally so easily rattled by a male, let alone one across a large room whom she hadn’t even spoken to.

It was just one silly picture.

Attempting to be inconspicuous, Aelin shifted the angle of her phone until the lens brought the subject of her attention into focus. He was truly a beautiful specimen… Gods, get a grip. Her thumb hit the shutter button and snapped a few back-to-back frames.

Recrossing her legs, Aelin pulled up the most recent photo in her album app. A hint of a smile dusted her lips while she drank in the male. The photo didn’t do him justice, yet somehow was still unfairly flattering. And that quiet smirk tugging on his lips had faint flutters stirring low in her belly.

Aelin’s teeth dragged over her bottom lip as she sent the photo off to Lys, who must have been poised and ready to pounce. Her response was near immediate.

Lysandra: GODS FUCK, AELIN.

Her teeth clamped down harder to stifle her laugh.

Aelin: I know!

Lysandra: THE MUSCLES.

Lysandra: THE FACE.

Aelin: I know!!!!

Aelin: Lys, I’ve never wanted a stranger so bad. 🥵 it’s been way too long.. I’m dying over here.

Lysandra: Go climb that male like a tree. NOW!

Aelin: 😂

Lysandra: I’m dead serious. You’re hot as fuck. It’d be a damn blessing for any male to—

Aelin slammed her phone face down onto her lap when a low voice practically purred, “If you need a close up, don’t be afraid to ask.” The lilt of his accent thrummed through her in all the best places.

She whipped to where the voice had come from, only to be brought up short with that gorgeous silver haired male now occupying the seat to her left.

Proximity only enhanced his already attractive features—piercing emerald that banded his pupils, sharp lines and strong jaw, thick lashes that every male seemed to undeservingly have, plush soft pink lips that curved into a self-assured smirk.

Aelin’s eyes snagged on swirls of black ink peeking out just above his shirt collar. His sleeves were pushed up to the elbow, exposing powerful arms—the left one covered in more ink down to his wrist. Her fingers itched to uncover if his sleeve connected to the tattoo on his chest.

Gods, she could quite possibly die. Her pulse hammered in her ears and her palms felt clammy with the shock of being caught.

With a clearing of her throat, she shoved the embarrassment down and grabbed furiously at the threads of inner bravado she could typically summon so easily.

Aelin leveled her gaze with his then quipped, “Can a female be blamed for admiring the male form?”

His smirk grew as his eyes flicked down her body before settling back on her face. “Certainly not.”

Her current travel attire consisted of her favorite pair of yoga pants that nicely accentuated her toned legs and ass, and a cropped hoodie that tastefully exposed a section of her midriff—practical and cozy, but also cute. Her new companion seemed to agree.

The male relaxed back in his seat, slightly orienting his body towards her. He reached out a large bronze hand, “I’m Rowan.”

His grasp was warm and firm. “Aelin.”

Rowan hummed appreciatively, his hand lingering against hers a moment longer. “Pretty.”

Heat rose to her neck and cheeks. Averting her gaze, Aelin’s eyes fell to the phone in her lap. This was all Lysandra’s fault. She just knew her best friend would be laughing herself silly if she were privy to Aelin’s current situation.

Aelin subtly shifted in her seat as well, to better see Rowan. She made a show of recrossing her legs, letting her right foot bob freely in the air. His gaze tracked the movement, leaving a trail of heat tingling up the length of her leg.

“So what brings you to this fine establishment on a stormy Tuesday evening?” Aelin asked airly with a wave of her hand to their general surroundings.

Rowan chuckled, laugh lines crinkling around pretty green eyes. “Your flight grounded due to the weather, too?”

She nodded her confirmation. “Orynth. You?”

The corners of his lips upturned. “Same. Flying in from Doranelle after visiting on holiday.” She wondered idly who exactly he might’ve been visiting. Friends, family—a significant other?

“I try to go home at least twice a year,” Rowan supplied, as if her thoughts were written across her face. “Though my cousins insist it’s not enough,” he chuckled. So family, then.

Aelin hummed. “So you work and live in Orynth then?”

“Yeah. I took a position back in the fall at UT.” She raised an eyebrow. Snagging a position at the University of Terrasen was an impressive feat. “I love it so far,” Rowan continued. “And Terrasen is a beautiful country.”

She couldn’t help the fond smile that curved her lips. “It really is.” She gently nudged his calf with her foot and crooned, “What is it you teach, Professor?”

The change was subtle, but Aelin swore his pupils dilated ever so slightly. Interesting. Rowan snorted, “History.”

“Explains the novel,” she said, dipping her chin towards the worn war book tucked into a side pocket of his carryon bag.

“What can I say, it’s an area of interest.”

Aelin’s smile broadened with mischief. “I could provide a few recommendations if you’re looking to add a bit of spice to your repertoire.”

Rowan’s head tipped back as he barked a laugh. “Oh, Aelin—I’m quite sure you could.”

Her name wrapped in his voice was like whiskey, all smooth burning heat. Her belly swooped with the suggestion coloring his tone.

“And what is it that you do, outside of your personal interest in photography?” He gave her a cheeky grin. “Surely assassin is off the list. You’re about as subtle as a flying brick.”

Aelin hit his arm playfully, refusing to allow her subsiding flush of embarrassment to rise to the surface of her skin again. “I work in publishing,” with a muttered bastard under her breath. To which Rowan heard perfectly, if his amused chuckle was any indication.

“Ahh, so you truly are equipped to hand out recommendations then,” he surmised.

Aelin leaned a bit into his space and hummed a confirmation, then added, “But the spicy recs are solely of personal interest.”

Her eyes tracked the bob of his throat as he swallowed thickly. She rested back into her seat again with a satisfied smirk.

Rowan’s gaze darted to the large screen mounted by their gate, skimming the information displayed. A moment later, his pine-green eyes were focused back on her. A quiet heat began to unfurl in the pit of her stomach as she held his stare.

His words were soft when he spoke. “Flight is still delayed for the foreseeable future. Let me buy you a drink.”

She pretended to mull over the pros and cons of sharing a drink with this virtual stranger—incredibly attractive virtual stranger. It wasn’t like she had anything else better to do to pass the time while stuck in this gods-forsaken airport. She couldn’t deny he would still likely be her first choice, regardless.

Rowan’s quiet confidence seemed to slightly waver with her prolonged silence, as if he were second guessing his offer and assessment of where they stood with one another on the flirting spectrum.

Aelin mercifully put a stop to his internal backtracking and offered her hand, accepting his invitation. The brilliant smile she received in response warmed through her as she allowed Rowan to pull her to her feet.

Aelin: I’m having drinks with him at the bar.. 🙈

Lysandra: OMG! I demand every single detail as soon as you land!!!

Lysandra: and BE SAFE.

Aelin: I will, promise 😘

Aelin smiled softly to herself as she returned her phone to an inner pocket of her work bag. Rowan sidled up to their shared high-top table and placed a second glass of red in front of her. She murmured a thank you before taking a long sip.

Rowan gave a nod as he settled on the stool across from her, a whiskey neat cradled between his large hands. Large, tan hands that she wondered how would feel exploring her body…

Aelin tightly squeezed her thighs together to stave off the growing ache between her legs. But the teasing pressure only stoked the flames licking to life beneath her skin. The warm buzz of the wine also wasn’t helping matters, nor was her current 9 month stint of celibacy since her breakup with Chaol.

“So,” he drawled before taking a dreg from his whiskey glass. “Are you ever going to share why you were snapping pictures earlier?”

Aelin slumped in her stool with an abashed groan, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“That was not my finest moment.” She risked a peek at him; open, gentle amusement shone back. “I’m sorry for that by the way.”

“I’m not.” Rowan said matter-of-fact. “It gave me the excuse I was desperate for to approach you.”

Aelin’s heart stuttered.

“I also hoped it meant that I’d maybe caught your eye, too,” he admitted softly.

She sat frozen for a moment, stunned by his revelation. Then wordlessly emptied the last remnants of her wine glass before sliding off the stool. It took all of two steps before she found herself well in Rowan’s space. Crisp snow and pine mixed with spicy undertones of a cologne filled her lungs. The heat emanating from his body made her head spin.

Her fingertips brushed featherlight alongside the edge of his strong jaw, savoring the nip of his stubble. Gently, Aelin turned his face towards hers and leaned in close. Rowan met her halfway, his breath soft against her lips as they both hesitated for a moment, then closed the remaining space between them.

The kiss was gentle, exploratory. Rowan tasted like the whiskey he was drinking, and she wanted to drink every bit of him down. Aelin gripped his shirt to pull him closer. The heat of his skin burned through her when he cupped her face, thumb smoothing over her cheekbone.

Rowan tilted her head back further for better access, tongue dancing across the seam of her lips. Aelin moaned softly, immediately opening her mouth to him. Rowan’s free hand had traveled to the swell of her hip and flexed tightly in response. Holding steady, keeping her close.

A pointed throat clearing cut through their reverie.

Her eyes cut over to the lonely looking patron two tables over who was going to great efforts to not stare at them. Her focus slid back to glinting pine-green eyes, and she clamped her lips shut to suppress the bubbling laugh—at this ridiculously crazy situation and the dazed look that overtook Rowan’s features.

“There’s a single unit restroom down that corridor,” she murmured with a slight incline of her head in the direction behind him, eyes smoldering as they peered up through thick lashes. “Meet me there in 5?”

“Yes.” His vehemence crackled through her veins.

The corner of Aelin’s mouth tugged upwards, and she extracted herself from his grasp. Wordlessly grabbing her work bag, she slipped past him in the direction of the restroom.

Aelin’s heart pounded rapidly in her ears, blood roaring with anticipation as the door snicked close behind her. Shaky fingers hung her bag on a courtesy hook before she turned to face the mirror.

Fiery blue eyes reflected back, bright and wild. Her cheeks, neck, and chest flushed with a healthy mix of arousal and adrenalin. She was really going to do this—fuck a stranger in an airport bathroom. Heat shot down her spine and pooled between her legs with the thought.

Mind so addled with lust and need, it was difficult to find reason not to do it. Her body burned with want for Rowan—very well might die from it without proper release.

Aelin leaned her palms against the sink counter and loosed a jagged breath. Breathe.

A soft knock echoed in the small space and she belatedly realized she hadn’t locked the door. Relief flooded over her as silver tendrils came into view, followed by the rest of him.

Anticipation twisted in her gut as Rowan clicked the deadbolt into place and turned to her. She swore the temperature of the room steadily rose when their eyes locked in the mirror.

Rowan dropped his bag to the floor and sidled up behind Aelin, his body heat and scent enveloping her. She bit back a moan, leaning into him.

He brushed thick golden tresses over to one shoulder, then pressed a kiss behind the shell of her ear, warm breath ticking. Aelin shivered. Rowan trailed open-mouthed kisses across her jaw and down her throat. Tipping her head to the side, she offered him more skin to claim.

“I’ve–I’ve never… done–” a sharp hiss turned moan interrupted her thoughts as teeth bit the sensitive flesh between her shoulder and neck before licking the hurt away.

“Never,” he rasped in agreement.

Rowan fingered the hem of her cropped sweatshirt before Aelin yanked it over her head without hesitation. His eyes grew impossibly darker, nostrils softly flaring at the sight of her pert rosy nipples through the sheer lace bralette.

Rowan snaked an arm across her chest, brushing a peaked nipple with his thumb and affectionately squeezing her breast. The other firmly held her hips against his, grinding against her backside.

“Never,” he repeated. “But you’re so fucking perfect, Aelin. I can’t help myself.”

Her name on his tongue was going to be her undoing.

The incessant press of his stiff erection at the seam of her ass had her eyes nearly rolling in the back of her head. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more, more, more.

His arms tightened as she attempted to turn, holding her in place to face the mirror.

“Rowan,” she ground out in frustration.

Rowan tutted at her, wrapping his left hand around her throat to apply light pressure while the right wandered down the flat plane of her stomach. “Patience, sweetheart.” His fingers inched closer, barely dipping below the waistline of her pants, taunting.

The tension tightly coiling low in her gut was unbearable. Aelin gripped the wrist of his teasing hand, nails biting into tan skin. Her hips instinctively rolled, seeking his touch, but he didn’t budge.

“Please,” she whimpered, and he nibbled at her earlobe in response. Gods, she was going to lose her ever-loving mind. “Rowan, please please touch me.”

His fingers tightened the slightest bit around her throat. Piercing green pinned her in place through the mirror’s reflection, his smile purely predatory. “Now how can I resist such pretty begging?”

Aelin swallowed thickly, eyes following the descent of his hand.

Her nerve endings exploded when he finally, finally touched where she ached for him most. Utterly helpless to the groan that tore from her throat.

Rowan’s fingers moved in tight lazy circles over the bundle of nerves. His other hand slid from her neck to the curve of her jaw, gently turning Aelin’s head to the side.

“Shhh,” he soothed against her lips. “I want nothing more–gods,” Rowan sputtered, fingers dipping to her center, coating them in her dripping arousal. “–than to hear you scream yourself hoarse on my fingers, on my cock.”

Aelin loosed a shuddering breath as said cock twitched against her ass.

Rowan’s slick fingers slid back to her clit and her whole body tensed. He nipped at her bottom lip, “But I need you to keep quiet this time. Can you do that for me?”

She nodded, dazed.

“Good girl,” he crooned before kissing her deeply, thoroughly.

Aelin lost herself to the slide of his mouth against hers and the press of his touch at her sex. His hand dropped from her face to her breast, pinching one of her stiff nipples, sending a shock of pleasure through her. Then, without warning, Rowan pushed a finger into her heat, then added a second one.

After a few pumps, he eased in a third digit. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” His voice was sinful. “Have to make sure you’re nice ‘n ready for me.”

He greedily swallowed down her moans. Pumping slowly in and out of her, her walls stretching to accommodate.

Their kiss broke on a gasp that stole the breath from her lungs as Rowan curled his fingers to rub that spot along her inner walls. Her body clenching around his thick digits and toes curling in her shoes.

Rowan chuckled lowly. “Ohh, right there?” She nodded mutely.

He pressed a kiss to throat. “Use your words, Aelin.”

“Yes,” she groaned, hips undulating in time with his thrusts. “Gods, yes. Right there—nnh, fuck.”

The blatant neediness in her voice should’ve been embarrassing, but she was half out of her mind to care.

Rowan rewarded her with the firm press of his thumb to her clit, his fingers continually pumping into her. “Such a good fucking girl for me."

Aelin’s body trembled with the building pressure, overwhelmed with the effect of his words and touches. Surely she would combust any second and the wildfire roaring beneath her skin would consume her whole.

Rowan sunk his teeth into her pulse point and her body arched, pleasure rocketing through her. The impossibly wound coil deep in her gut finally snapping. Aelin nearly sobbed from relief, sagging against the strong arm across her chest.

Rowan’s hand lazily coaxed the last remnants of pleasure from her as she finished riding the wave of her orgasm. Their heavy breaths and his fingers gently pushing through the slick between her thighs the only sounds filling the space.

Not until he ensured she was fully sated did he pull away from her heat, dragging his fingers up the center of her body to leave a glistening trail in their wake. Aelin swallowed thickly as he brought those fingers to his lips to lick them clean. Humming like she was the sweetest thing he’s had the pleasure of tasting.

Aelin turned on shaky legs and hastily dragged his face to hers, lips colliding in a soul searing kiss. Rowan lifted and sat her on the bathroom counter without severing contact. Large hands tangled in her hair, tipping her head back to open her up further. Aelin hummed against the brush of his tongue.

Hands tugged impatiently at his shirt as she mumbled “off” against his lips. Rowan chuckled but obliged nonetheless.

Her bottom lip caught between her teeth as her eyes unabashedly devoured the muscled expanse of his heaving chest. The inked sleeve on his left arm indeed connected seamlessly to the whirling designs spanning across his left pec, licking up the base of his neck. She swallowed an appreciative groan.

“Gods, it’s unfair how fucking hot you are.” Aelin lightly scraped her nails over the ridges of his abdominal muscles.

“You’re one to talk.”

She smirked, but didn’t respond.

Her focus was instead drawn to the impressive bulge straining painfully against the zip of his jeans. Rowan grunted when she palmed him through the material. Then so slowly popped the button open and dragged the zipper down. Aelin worked the jeans and boxer briefs over his hips until his erection was freed and bobbing just below his navel.

Her eyes widened.

By the wryd, he was massive. No wonder he took such care in working her with his fingers first.

The smug grin was wiped clean from his face when she wrapped a hand around him. His head fell against her shoulder, releasing a jagged breath as she methodically worked her hand up and down his length.

Rowan mindlessly thrusted into her hand with soft groans. His full body shuddered when she squeezed the head of his cock and pressed her thumb to the weeping slit.

He bit out a curse, firmly gripping her wrist. “I’m not going to last if you keep that up.”

“Isn’t that the point?” She asked sweetly.

Rowan dragged his thumb across her lip. “You’re such a wicked thing.”

She hummed then wriggled her hips in silent command. Rowan didn’t need further elaboration, hooking his large hands in the band of her underwear and pants, slowly peeling them down her toned legs, also discarding her shoes in the process. At his gentle prod she spread her thighs, exposing herself fully to him.

The debauched groan that ripped deep from within his chest shot straight to her core. Pine-green eyes glazed as they settled on her glistening sex.

“Rowan,” she whispered. “Please.”

Her words snapped him into action. Gripping the base of his cock, he notched the swollen head against her entrance.

His body went rigid. “Fuck.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Trying to keep panic from edging in her voice.

“I don’t have a condom.” Rowan looked physically pained, tone forlorn.

Oh.

“Fuck, Aelin, I’m sorry.” He bowed to rest his forehead against hers. She tried very hard to block out the feel of him nudging against her folds with the movement. “I didn’t expect—hadn’t plann–”

Aelin silenced him with a kiss, slow and gentle. Her fingers delicately twined with the silvery strands at the nape of his neck.

“Fuck me, Rowan.” His cock twitched against her thigh.

He traced his thumb across her collarbone. “Are you sure?”

“I’m on birth control and I’m clean. Are you?”

“Yes,” he answered—to both questions. She nodded with understanding.

She stroked his length, then realigned him with her entrance.

“Then fuck me.”

So he did, pushing into her with a powerful thrust. Rowan slotted his mouth over Aelin’s to muffle her cries. Her toes curled tightly at the backs of his thighs, struggling to find any space within her for breath. Rowan panted, giving her time to adjust. Strong muscles shaking with barely controlled restraint.

After a moment, hips rolled against his in silent command. And Rowan obliged, pulling out to the tip before snapping into her heat again. Over and over.

Aelin’s head dropped back on a strangled moan as her nails dug into his flesh, seeking purchase anywhere.

“You take my cock so well, Aelin,” he bit out. “So fucking good for me.”

Rowan groaned as she clenched around him. Never in her life had she been so gods-damned aroused. She was going to come from his words alone, taking her apart piece by piece.

“Please, please, Rowan.”

His hand slipped between their sweaty bodies and drew pants from her pretty mouth that grew breathier and higher with each passing stroke. Until finally a wave of pleasure crested over her and she shattered around him.

Rowan nearly choked as her core contracted tightly around him. He buried a hand in her hair and brought her mouth to his in a rough kiss, the pace of his thrusts growing erratic. Then he was groaning loudly against her lips, finally meeting his release deep within her.

Aelin gently scraped her nails against his scalp and hummed into his mouth as his hips rocked slowly into hers, milking the last of their shared pleasure.

They stayed like that for long moments, Rowan still buried inside her and their lips exploring languidly. Separating only once a shiver ran through her body, the sweat gathered in the dip of her lower back cooling.

Rowan murmured against her skin through a smile, “Let's get you dressed.”

Aelin made a noise of protest as he pulled out of her, but allowed him to gently wipe her clean before helping her back into her clothes. Once fully dressed and steadied on her feet, Rowan tilted her chin with a tenderness that made her heart ache and gave her a lingering kiss.

“When we get back to Orynth, let me take you to dinner.”

With a little shrug, Aelin gave him a simpering smile. “It’s the very least you could do.”

Rowan snorted, despite the bright grin splitting his face. Then shook his head with quiet amusement, “So wicked.”

Aelin finally settled into her seat on the plane.

A smile seemed to permanently occupy her lips since she and Rowan slipped from the bathroom earlier.

Rowan. Gods, what an unexpected surprise he turned out to be.

Aelin slipped her phone from her pocket, preparing to switch it to Airplane Mode. Just as she swiped away the lock screen, a text notification scrolled across the top from her newest added contact. Biting her lip, Aelin tapped on the notification to open up the new iMessage thread.

Rowan: See you soon, sweetheart.

Warmth flooded her chest. Before she could type a response, her phone vibrated again with an additional incoming text and an image.

Rowan: ps. you can’t blame this poor male for admiring your exquisite form either. 😉

Aelin’s head jerked up to stare at the mop of silver hair seated several rows ahead of her, mouth agape for several seconds. Her lips twitched into a smirk, snorting in disbelief as her eyes fell back to the image on her phone.

An image of her from hours ago, stretching out in her seat with a hand running through her hair. Frankly, it was a good candid putting the lines of her body on display in the best way.

The stewardess’ voice crackled through the overhead speaker, directing passengers to please secure their seatbelts, close their dropdown trays, and switch all electronics to airplane mode.

Aelin fired a quick response back before toggling on Airplane Mode: Sneaky bastard!

Masterlist

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin smut #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass fic #throne of glass

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