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therealhousewifeofharrystyles · 10 months

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Harry’s Home

(PART I.)

Pairing: Roommate!Harry // Nameless 1st-Person Femme Protagonist

Word Count: ~ 12k words

‼️Mature/18+‼️

⚠️ Content Warnings: Adult Language, Lots of Flirting, Pining, Love/Hate Dynamic, References to Body Weight (“Chubby” Reader), Body Objectification (M & F), References to Masturbation (F), Mentions of Body-Type Biases, Alcohol Consumption (Legal & Responsible Drinking), References to Ovulation & Implications to Breeding

**ANY & ALL IMAGES USED ARE NOT MINE**

Likes, Comments, Reblogs, and Follows are 100% welcome 💕

Weeknights deserve more credit. For many of us, it’s the peaceful resolution to our day. It’s the time when we come home after being excused from our lectures or meetings, or when we clock-out at the end of our shifts. We’ll safely make it back to our comfort zones and our open time slot can be occupied with whatever we want. Those few free hours are sacred. They give adults a necessary recharge. Personally, I share my humble homestead with an egotistical, British businessman—Harry Styles.

Harry was employed as a marketing executive for a unisex fashion brand located in Portland, Oregon. ‘Vol. 6’ started out as a small business, and had recently made waves in the industry with its diverse designs and overall style inclusivity. The company’s roots were planted by a few local, starving artists who set up an online shop with the most modest of intentions. The amateurs were blindsided by how their ideas blew up in overwhelming popularity via the internet. It was like winning the lottery. They eventually accumulated so many orders that they needed to expand their operations—hiring an A-team of designers, tailors, and legal professionals(for copyright purposes, of course). International sweatshops and inhumane labor conditions were far from what Vol. 6 sought to create. And so they stayed in Portland—keeping their focus upon ensuring exceptional product quality, as well as enforcing flexible, comfortable, and progressive working environments for its employees. Although an underdog in the fashion scene, Vol. 6’s excellent reputation continued to soar without a hitch. It turns out that a cohesive process of structured business management and clever marketing can be achieved without sacrificing empathy, creativity, realness, or substance. The only disadvantage is the limited supply of merchandise whilst there’s a metastasizing demand. It’s not like this kind of business structure is rare. High-status designer brands have been known to keep their stock low—or at least that’s what they say—for their popular items to seem more valuable and special. As an operation that works against those capitalist games, Vol. 6 values employee and customer satisfaction over profit. The company’s active attention and true kindness are what separates them from the rest.

So, as I mentioned before, Harry is a part of Vol. 6’s marketing team. He often collaborates with the designing team when he’s working on new promotions or adverts. Creative cohesiveness is essential to successful marketing. Hence why Harry and Mitch became close friends as they had consistently developed ads together for a couple of years.

Some have referred to the boys as yin and yang. One of the two tended to present himself as intimidating and pretentious, whilst the other was comparatively quite mild and personable. It was a mystery how these men befriended one another instead of becoming enemies. Harry was the type that wanted to complete tasks his way, and his way only. In total contrast, Mitch liked spontaneity—preferring to ‘go with the flow’ rather than planning ahead. That method of living was despised by Harry. He was set in his ways. It didn’t make sense to him how his friend could act so unbothered by the world’s chaos. Maybe it was just his hot temper, or maybe it was the way his natural responses to conflict were either instigating a verbal quarrel or using bitter humor as a defense mechanism…but Harry just wasn’t a people person. Mitch had thankfully brought him out of his comfort zone a few times—reminding Harry of his university days when his mates had turned him into a womanizer. The results, however, differed from those times due to Harry developing a bleeding heart as he progressed through his twenties. He was open to new experiences and fun banter with strangers as long as Mitch accompanied him. And so they became somewhat of a package-deal. Well, at least that had been the case before Mitch started dating Sarah Jones.

Harry had nothing to dislike about Mitch’s girlfriend. They got along just fine. However, Mitch became less and less available to Harry outside of work…Which meant Harry wasn’t going out much, and that was his issue. Of course he was happy for his friend—Mitch was supportive of him when he was in a serious relationship a few years back. There was no reason for Harry to be bitter. I personally believe he was just lamenting; that he was struggling to accept the fact that life would no longer be the same as it was. He looked back to when he was working towards a degree and reminisced about how he felt more socially fulfilled from living with, and eventually befriending, complete strangers. Those college memories had been the stepping stones of Harry’s development into true adulthood. He had no intention to ever stop growing and improving as a man. Thus why Harry sought to make a big lifestyle change in order to work towards branching out on his own accord. No more was he to reside in a bachelor-pad apartment with a shitty landlord who had never fixed the rattling air-conditioner. He was going to move somewhere more permanent. A place where he could enter his thirties as successful, single, and not lonely. A housemate would solidify the latter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Having met him briefly a few times, Sarah recognized a few of Harry’s traits as noticeably familiar. She knew someone personally with identical mood swings, a goofy laugh, and an annoyingly specific taste regarding every little thing. The combination of resemblances felt bizarre to witness up close. She felt like Harry had been performing as some sort of parody—speaking in hyperboles and absolutes as a joke. But she soon realized she was wrong and that he was just like that. Reacting emotionally was actually his genuine response to any sort of change. Sure, she’d interacted with the moody type before. She’d also certainly met plenty of picky control-freaks. Only, the person Harry reminded her of was unique in that she was entertainingly campy, yet sincerely empathetic; and Harry was the same. That person who’d come to her mind was me. And as soon as Sarah heard the news that Harry was looking for a roommate, her ears perked up and she reached out to me immediately.

But I guess I should probably explain the origin story of Harry and me, together, in more detail…here, I’ll start over:

My introduction to Harry was when a friend of mine, Sarah, gave me the news that her boyfriend’s officemate, Harry, was looking to lease a new place. The house was located in a nice suburban area just outside of Portland. Seeing that the neighborhood had been on the upscale side, he wanted to find a roommate to split the pricey rent with. Me, working full time and desperately seeking a replacement for living with my parents, saw this as the golden opportunity to finally have true independence. My initial excitement almost deterred me from wondering whether this ‘Harry’ dude was decent, or reliable, or if he was just some complete prick. I’d never met the guy. I didn’t know a single thing about him besides his name, and yet I’d already begun to mentally pack my bags. I still should’ve had more reservations about it. But then again, I was already aware of how uncomfortable living with a complete stranger was—thanks to college life in the U.S., of course. Also, Sarah’s boyfriend, Mitch, was (and still is) a respectable guy and I was sure he’d only surround himself with people of the like…logically speaking. After all, he was my closest friend’s boyfriend. If Harry stepped on my toes even once, Mitch would endure a hurricane of wrath from my Sarah.

The added layer of safety provided by my best friend’s loyalty was comforting. But this was still a gigantic step for me as a young adult. I’d be actually moving out of my parents’ house entirely for the first time ever. You could say I was blissfully naive of what challenges and obstacles my future held. Apart from all my idealistic daydreaming, I couldn’t help seeking a clearer picture of who Harry actually was (literally and figuratively).

Sarah had given me a basic description:

“He’s a sweet guy. But he tends to act kind of… ambiguous at times? His vibes go back and forth, you know? Kind of unpredictable. Hot ‘n cold…” she trailed on.

Ok. That obviously required significant elaboration—of which she’d eventually come around to providing after I sang the classic Katy Perry lyrics she’d unintentionally referenced.

“…Yeah, yeah, yeah…” She dismissed me, my sing-songy tangent coming to a giggly close.

“…But I’m serious—Mitch has told me all about Harry’s passive narcissism and how much of a stubborn grump he can be…I don’t know, maybe it’s a British thing. A stereotype, I know; but he switches from sarcastic to compassionate on the flip of a dime…” Sarah rambled.

I squinted at her and shook my head in disbelief. This was starting to sound a little sketchy. A grumpy, moody, narcissist? Awesome.

“Psh, so he’s a crabby geriatric divorceé? Wonderful…It’s no wonder he’s got that old-timey name, to boot. The guy just needs a caretaker…also, why would Volume 6 hire an old dude to handle their marketing campaigns..?” I joked.

Sarah shook her head and laughed as if I’d just said something utterly ridiculous.

“HA! Oh, god…I’ll have to remember to tell Mitch all of what you just said.” Sarah wheezed, entertained by my very false assumptions of Harry.

I blinked at her, not understanding why she found what I said so funny.

“…You have it all wrong, babe. He moved here from the UK, like, 10 years ago I think? Mitch said he hopped around from LA to New York City, then from New York to…um, well…to here, in sweet ole Portlandia.” She concluded.

As a young woman in her early-twenties, I wasn’t very enthusiastic about this living arrangement coming to life.

The look on my face must have revealed my doubts because my friend chuckled, waving her hands around for emphasis, and quickly clearing the air for me.

“Wait, wait, hold on! Before you tune out—He’s in his late 20’s! Just realizing how weird that sounded…Yeesh, I’d never let you live with some stinky, old, Englishman, you dummy!”

Phew…That sounded much better. It wouldn’t be too different from living with my older brother, then. But that one word, ‘ambiguous’—it wouldn’t leave my mind. Adjectives like that just leave too much to the imagination…well, to mine, anyway. What was Harry being all ambiguous about? My overzealous curiosity pushed me to spiral, conjuring up whatever dirty secrets that would be instant deal-breakers for me…

Did he smoke inside? Did he hate cats? Dogs? Or worse, was he the leader of some creepy murder cult? And if so, would he reserve our living room for their weekly meetings?!

...Would I be spared as a sacrifice because of my not-so-virgin blood?

Was he a fratty douchebag who peaked in college and succumbed to alcoholism?

Was he the type who’d refuse to be my roommate once he saw that I wasn’t a size-00? Would he feel catfished and tell me I looked “bigger in person?” …Not like that sort of thing really mattered to me—I’d just heard that before from a few guys around his age who were surely expecting to be faced with some petite porcelain doll…

Anyway, I guess I just hoped he’d be direct enough to tell me…you know…anything worth mentioning before I’d officially become his roommate. For all I knew, he was probably just a snobby little brat with an annoying, pompous accent.

Amidst my internal ramblings, Sarah added that Harry was a perfectionist.

So, I was right—he was a brat.

I wanted to stay positive, though. Maybe he was just a neat freak, and that’s what Sarah was implying. I mean, that didn’t sound too intolerable, right? And if he was moody, maybe he’d just keep to himself most of the time. I was perfectly fine with that. I tended to keep to myself most of the time, too...though, I never thought of myself as that moody…

Whoever he was, I just crossed my fingers that he wouldn’t have any attitude similarities to Simon Cowell. Just imagining that possibility made my head hurt and my self-confidence plummet. Whatever. That was probably unlikely, right?

Nonetheless, I was desperate for answers. Sarah just shrugged at me and told me to look him up myself if I wanted to know more. And so, I went to work.

Who was Harry Styles? Aye, that was the question…sorry, I’ll continue:

Doing some basic Googling, it seemed that Harry was at least somewhat active on social media…enough that he wasn’t untraceable, at least. This was one of those (very)few times where I was legitimately grateful for the existence of online social platforms. I scrolled and scrolled, and clicked, and scrolled some more…for probably 3 solid hours. Daylight had actually run out by the time I’d realized how badly my corneas were stinging. I’d looked at myself in the black reflection of my phone and could see the popped blood vessels in the whites of my eyes. At least I found what I was searching for.

Luckily for me, his—albeit, ancient—Facebook page looked genuine and free of any red flags. To my dismay, I had to send a friend request and a follow request to his socials in order to actually have access to the profiles. Did that make it obvious that I was in the middle of e-stalking him? Quite likely, yes…But I’d let my excitement and curiosity overtake my sense of self-preservation that night. Tiptoeing around so I could naturally stumble across a morsel of information would’ve been agonizing. My main objective was more important to me than playing mind games with that stranger, Mister Harry Styles. I wanted so badly to free myself from the confines of my childhood home, regardless. Ugh! I was the only one in my friend group who still lived with their parents, and the lack of privacy only weighed heavier on me as time progressed. My dear friend, Sarah, kindly gifted me my long-awaited chance at freedom by sending Harry’s offer my way, and I wanted to run with it.

Yes, I may have been diving face-first into a serious commitment with a complete stranger. Sure, I’ve never lived with a man who wasn’t related to me. And, yeah, I was nervous that this guy was going to reject me because I was younger, eager, and…kinda on the chubby side, to be honest. I know, I know…

My size shouldn’t matter, I knew that, and I still know that. It never truly matters. I knew my situation wasn’t the same as meeting a lousy Tinder date or whatever, but I felt paranoid regardless. All sorts of men have burned me in the past with their shallowness, so I wasn’t about to hold onto a false guise of confidence just for my big break to disappoint me in the end. The age difference felt somewhat significant on top of that. I’d been made aware that Harry was a few years my senior, but it didn't bother me. I hoped it wouldn’t bother him, either…that, and everything else about me, of course…I just had to wait and see.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He accepted my friend/follow requests immediately, and I dove head-first into research (lowkey-stalker) mode. From awkward prom photos and blurry, live music performances, the innocence of his Facebook profile finally put my worries at ease. His most recent profile picture was of him, his mother, and his sister. The candid, selfie-style photo successfully pulled a smile out of me. It’s not a secret that there are wolves in sheep’s clothing out there. But my gut assured me he was safe—that he was a decent guy. The back and forth comments on those family photos were friendly enough for me to assume a close bond between the two siblings, especially. My cheeks started to ache from my incessant smiling and giggling. The pictures were just so cute, I had to message Sarah about it.

[Text Messages]

Me: stfu this guy is adorable 😫

Sarah: HA I’ll have Mitch let him know u think so 😏 ❤️

Me: Oh my god, fr pls don’t

Sarah: Too late 😉

Me: Alrighty 🙂 Brb…gonna go play in traffic 🤪

Sarah: Ur such a drama queen lol

Me: Yep, that’s me 😚

Sarah: xoxo 😘💋

** one week later **

Sarah told me Harry was a bit different than the way he seemed in those family photos. She said he had tattoos and that he was a total frat boy at heart. All shyness aside, “…his true colors shine their brightest when he’s riled up…I’ve seen it. Little crabby pants man-child.” It was safe to say that Sarah was explicitly giving me a warning for Harry’s hot temper. I looked past it at the time because–as a sensitive crybaby myself–I assumed he was just in-tune with his emotions. I saw nothing wrong with that. I actually found it to be quite refreshing. A handsome man who isn’t an emotionless narcissist or a bird-brained himbo? Sounded pretty exciting to me! I looked forward to possibly cohabitating with someone who had a solid connection to their empathetic side.

Also, basically everyone and their mom has a tattoo or a sleeve. Harry wasn’t different or special in that way to me at all. I completely shrugged it off. Who cared? Still curious as all hell, I scrolled around for a link to his Instagram. The link was right there on his Facebook profile.

Nice.

This is just too easy, I thought. I’ve got all this information on this man at my fucking fingertips.

Wow wow wow wow…

So, uh…Needless to say, Harry presented himself as a little less, um…well, I definitely wouldn’t have pegged him as a “mama’s-boy.” I mean, it wasn’t like he was unrecognizably different or anything. Sarah’s depiction of him, although vague, was right on the nose. All of this was meant for research purposes only. But it was objectively true that he was insanely gorgeous. It was just a fact. Pretending like Harry was average in attractiveness…I mean, why would I do that? Why would I lie to myself when the man was just an innocent sight for my sore eyes? That’s all he was…he was cute. Handsome. Adorable. It was as simple as that. I just don’t know why I couldn’t stop coming back to his Instagram time and time again. No matter how paranoid I’d been about accidentally liking a post from like…5 years ago…I still kept clicking on his profile for more.

He had a few videos of him working out—pull ups, bench presses, deadlifts—all of which featured a very sweaty, and very shirtless Harry.

He also had a few group shots with friends. Sometimes there would be a picture of him with his mom or his sister.

The latest posts revealed his plethora of tattoos to my unexpecting eyes. It was obvious that he knew he was attractive. He knew he wasn’t some average Joe. And I swear he had to have known I was looking. Surely he was looking at mine, too. But I was quite conservative and innocent on my instagram profile—similar to the way he looked on his Facebook. I had to admit, the general vibe of this virtual scrapbook was indeed leaning on the fratty side. Sarah was right. He also seemed aloof in some ways. It looked like he preferred small gatherings to larger ones. He didn’t post very often, and it was hardly ever him who’d be taking photos of himself. Someone else would capture Harry’s beauty.

The contrast between the two online profiles distracted the hell out of me. Specifically, I found myself gawking at him in his sweaty workout videos. His defined shoulder muscles quickly caught my attention, my gaze drifting across the defined blades until I ventured lower. The butterfly on his abdomen was both creepy and beautiful. It reminded me of the moth from Silence of the Lambs. Its wings glistened with a layer of moisture as he pulled himself up and down on the steel bar. Beads of sweat made his chestnut curls cling damply to his skin. I salivated watching this man strain and flex continuously; and I felt myself arch my back while I sat, pressing and grinding my clothed core against my mattress.

Jesus…What was happening to me?!

So, uh…the truth is…I thought Harry was really fucking hot. There was no point in lying about it. His hair just looked so soft and silky, and I wanted to run my fingers through it. I wanted to pull at it. I wanted to slide my soapy hands across the art on his body under a steaming hot shower. I wanted to kiss my way down until I was met with what I was 10000% convinced would stand a girthy, 7-inch masterpiece. Oddly specific, I know. But it was obvious he had a gorgeous dick to compliment the rest of him. He just had this vibe—this aura about him. It’s hard to explain. What was worse was how it seemed as if he knew he exuded that ‘big-dick energy,’ too.

So why 7 inches? Well, the dildo I’d been using for a while was about 6 inches—which was very nice, don’t get me wrong. But it just didn’t quite fill me…completely. And so I’d begun to fantasize about how Harry could stuff my holes instead. Fantasy Harry was a motherfucking dreamboat, let me tell ya. I couldn’t stop daydreaming about him—from carrying heavy boxes into the house and helping me unpack, to flat-out forcing me onto all fours, spanking my ass, and fucking me to tears. The fantasies only evolved over time, no matter how hard I tried to push those perverse thoughts away…but to be honest, I didn’t want to…

Nevermind his admittance of vanity, he still had a gentleness about him…hiding somewhere beyond those pale, teal eyes. Or maybe it was my overwhelming attraction to him that cast a rosy hue to how I perceived his character. I guess that was possible. However, I tended to have a good radar for these sorts of things—people, I mean. Harry made me feel excited, secure, comfortable, and very horny. I had no intentions of backing out from signing that lease, and I decided it was time to officially confirm that with him.

My addiction had only worsened from there. I’d begun to shamelessly use his posts as some sort of spank bank for my regular sessions of alone time. My body reacted quite positively to the change in routine. I couldn’t get too into it, though, as I hardly ever had the house to myself. That was one reason why I wanted out of there. Of course, I was still able to have my fun; I just needed to keep quiet. But fucking myself to Harry made staying quiet extremely difficult. It was like masturbating on Hard Mode. I was constantly hyper aware of how I handled my phone with my one free hand—so as to not double-tap. Then there were some photos of him where I’d pinch and zoom in closer, straining my eyes to see if I could make out the outline of his bulge. He wore black athletic shorts a lot of the time, so he was usually protected by the camouflage of the dark fabric. In one of his weight-lifting videos, though, he brought the bar up from the floor up to his knees, then slid it up just below his hips, and—oh my god. The metal pressed so closely to the tops of his thighs that he had his whole package propped up. His shorts tightened perfectly around him. It was so subtle, most people would probably miss it upon first glance. But I didn’t. I saw it. And now I can’t unsee it.

Oh…but he wouldn’t post him with a…or would he…?

Ugh, that cocky little smirk…Fucking asshole.

I hated him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Of course, I felt really dirty for thinking about my new roommate like that.

Oh, yeah…Sorry, uh, I forgot to mention: the two of us had e-signed the lease. I know, I know…but I needed to take the offer! How could I pass up the chance to 1.) move out of my parents’ house, and 2.) move in with a sexy, brooding, successful British man whom I could trust because he was a mutual friend AND…I honestly loved the house. It was old, but not broken or in shambles. The floors were amber hardwood, and the whole house was finished with matching carved, wooden railings and accent wall paneling. Having recently been remodeled, the kitchen was in excellent shape. Appliances were updated. The property was managed by an association which handled the lawn, utilities, and small, miscellaneous amenities. We had our own driveway, a connected two-car garage, and our mailbox was labeled with both of our last names.

The charming little cottage condo was now officially, and contractually, mine and Harry’s. I was ecstatic about it, honestly. We still hadn’t met in person yet, which I knew wasn't the smartest approach, but we’d at least chatted a bit over text and shared some friendly phone calls. His voice was insanely sexy, might I add. I knew he was from the UK, as per Sarah, and so of course I was expecting to be greeted with that accent. What I was not expecting was this slow, deep…rough…

Eek, sorry—um, I wasn’t expecting a voice like that to come out of the speaker, that’s all. Dare I say it, he actually sounded nervous to talk to me on that first call. He’d stutter his words whenever I posed a question, and I could practically hear his boyish smile through my phone. It also took forever for him to end our calls—our goodbyes resembling the never-ending midwestern kind that I was unfortunately very familiar with. They didn’t feel nearly as painful or awkward, though. Listening to his accented mumbles on the other line released a flutter of butterflies in my belly.

I later learned that Harry had performed his own research on me. The only difference was that he’d done most of it a week or so before we’d e-signed the lease together.

It was simple. At work, Mitch mentioned me in a conversation regarding the house Harry had his eye on. He was interested the moment my name was suggested, a gut-feeling making him latch onto me. Once he’d discovered my online profiles by searching through Mitch’s mutuals, his infatuation with me soared. He had a juvenile crush on me from the get-go.

Feeling 17 again, Harry would look for openings in their casual discussions so that he could bring me up. Mitch, being a good sport, spent day after day playing his role as the messenger between the 4 of us. He wished Sarah had just given Harry my phone number straight away instead. If she did, Mitch would’ve been able to eat his lunches in peace. Not only did Mitch lack the answers to those questions, but he’d also only interacted with me a handful of times. He struggled to provide Harry with even the barebones descriptions. How was he supposed to know whether I was a morning or a night person, or what my thermostat preference was, or which days I did my laundry, or how often I had guests over? My private social media accounts offered better information about me than that of the fleeting memories my best friend’s boyfriend stored in his brain.

Harry intended to use somewhat of a surreptitious approach to voicing his curiosity to Mitch. But his sly efforts were useless, as Mitch caught onto his scheme quite easily. There wasn’t anything indicating to me that he was interested in me in any way. Well, not until Sarah let it slip that Harry couldn’t keep my name out of his mouth whenever he spoke to Mitch. But I thought he was just curious…I mean, I was a random, younger woman whom he was going to be living with. It made sense to me that he wanted to know so much about me. I was just as curious.

Casual lunch conversations between the two men had begun to form a particular pattern of redirection. At first, Mitch thought Harry was simply just eager to send in his deposit before anyone else could. The rent cost was a steal for how nice the house was and for the lovely neighborhood it was in. However, he knew all this enthusiasm was directed towards me, in particular, when Harry’s eyes were perma-glued to his screen whilst scrolling through my photos. I didn’t really have that much to scroll through, but apparently Harry spent enough time staring at each individual picture that one may have assumed I had an endless gallery. He’d even taken the liberty of digging further and eventually found my LinkedIn page. I remember how the week before our first phone call, I’d gotten a notification from LinkedIn telling me that someone viewed my profile…I didn't even know why I kept the app on my phone since I was content with my current job. Nevertheless, Harry’s investigation wasn’t as covert as he’d hoped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry was scrolling around on my LinkedIn profile in the Vol. 6 breakroom. Without thinking, he outwardly deduced to Mitch, “She must be the commitment type,” referring to my short, yet impressive résumé. He promptly followed up his inference by chiming,“She’s lookin’ for something’ serious then, hm?”

As soon as the words escaped his lips, Harry’s nonchalance disappeared.

Mitch stopped in his tracks as Harry decided to drag the comment out further.

“I-I mean, like, for a serious living arrangement, y’know?” Harry squeaked.

Mitch cringed in discomfort as the cracking of Harry’s voice pierced his eardrums. To the man’s dismay, his friend didn’t know how to shut his mouth.

“…Some people can be quite fickle ‘bout it, yeah? And what, she’s 24? Surely she’s been disappointed by dozens of pricks by now. Must be dying for someone she can actually rely on, dontcha think?”

Mitch pursed his lips and half-heartedly agreed, “Mhm, probably sick of the fear-of-commitment type.”

Harry nodded and pulled at his lip with his thumb and forefinger. He then continued to ramble on.

“Now tha’ I’m edging on 30…I dunno…’guess I’m just looking—” He paused to clear his throat and scratch his nose with his knuckle. He looked considerably anxious. “—looking forward to, uh, commitments, and all tha’.”

Mitch’s eyes narrowed towards his friend who kept fidgeting with his hands on top of the table and dodging all eye contact. He found Harry’s clumsiness entertaining. He wanted to see how long he could get him to chase his tail. Instigating, Mitch said,“Yeah…So, uh, did you find anything else interesting about her?”

Harry lifted his head up to meet with the other man’s suspecting stare.

“Huh? Well, y-yes, definitely! ‘Course I did. She, uh…well, she’s—”

“—She’s a pretty girl…yeah, H?” Mitch interrupted, cutting him off from his stuttering. Harry swallowed dryly in response. At that point, it seemed to him that Mitch had finally picked up on his crush.

“Uhm, yeah…yeah, I think she is. Quite lovely, now that y’mention it.” His eyes blinked down at the zoomed image of me in a bridesmaid’s dress displayed on his clutched phone screen. Mitch patted Harry’s shoulder, heartily laughing at the glassy-eyed brunette in front of him.

Except, Harry wasn’t laughing. The shells of his ears turned red hot and his knee bobbed awkwardly under the table, unintentionally knocking on the hard surface a few times.

“Ah! Fuck.” He cursed under his breath, holding his nervous knee down.

“Harry, it’s ok if you have a lil crush on her...” Mitch assured him. Harry gnawed on the inside of his lip as Mitch kept on. “…God, y’know, I haven’t seen you down this bad since…well, since Cam, I think...”

Harry gulped at the mention of the woman’s name…the woman who broke his heart several years earlier. His discomfort with the subject was apparent to his friend who then swiftly rephrased. “Shit…Sorry…I just mean, like, you’ve got heart-eyes for a girl you’ve never even met. You don’t know her. She doesn’t know you…”

Harry stayed silent.

“…Honestly, I’m surprised. ‘Used to you always going for the Barbie-type. It’s nice to see you’re, uh, broadening your horizons, hm?” He smirked and drew an exaggerated hourglass in the air with his hands.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and got defensive at the suggestive implication. “Besides having dated all women, I’ve never had a type, Mitchell.” He scoffed. “And another thing—” Harry quipped, his pupils swallowing the soft green of his irises. Mitch, unintimidated, seemed quite amused by his friend’s sensitive temper.

“—You shouldn’t talk about her like tha’. Inn’ she close with Sarah?! That’s your girlfriend’s best friend. ‘S fucked up.”

Mitch nodded in agreement with a dismissing chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sarah’s known her for years, but I was just messing with you, man. Relax.”

The men were quiet for a few moments before Mitch sent a warning Harry’s way.“Don’t fuck around with her, ok? ‘less you’re looking to mop up the poor girl’s tears every day. You’re signing a 3-year lease, remember? Try not to think with the wrong head.”

Harry glared at Mitch.

Wha—mopping up tears?! That’s a bit dramatic…

Contrary to Mitch’s assumptions, Harry wasn’t planning to create an uncomfortable living space. That’s the last thing he wanted. Sure, he was attracted to me and felt little butterflies fluttering in his belly when he read my posts and my texts. So what?! That’s his business if he had a teeny tiny crush on his potential housemate. It felt like Mitch was deliberately egging him on, and that’s precisely how the conversation escalated.

“What—? What are you going on about?” His voice strained to release the words. Mitch was done beating around the bush—he realized how the aftermath of Harry’s pursuit of me could end with lots of crying on my part; and worst of all, a very angry Sarah Jones. He wanted to avoid that outcome as much as possible.

“H, you’re stalking her Facebook and shit—”

“—Oi! ’S not like tha’! I just wanna know who I’m asking to move in w’me!”

“Ok, well I’m pretty sure you don’t keep looking through all her photos because you wanna know how good she is about washing the dishes.”

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about…” Harry huffed. “…’Sides, you know it takes me a bit to get comfortable with people. Not to mention, I've never had a bloody roommate befo’, either.”

He was telling the truth—omitting some personal details in the process, but that didn’t matter. Not to Harry, at least. He knew Mitch was terrible at keeping secrets and that Sarah would be in the know before he could even finish a confession. There was no way he was going to risk jeopardizing such a safe and pleasant option with sharing his feelings so soon.

“Okay…” Mitch trails off. The air in the room was still and it made him uneasy. Harry scratched the shadow of stubble adorning his jaw. His impulsive mouth thankfully filled the silence that was suffocating them previously. As grown men and friends, the boys seemed to act like stubborn adolescents when it came to women—specifically, when it came to Harry and women.

“Um…so, you said you’ve met her before, yeah?” Harry couldn’t let it go.

Mitch drank from his water bottle and gave Harry the thumb’s up with his free hand.

“Then uh, why don’t you tell me ‘bout her? Like…Wha’s she like in person…?” Mitch took a deep breath and screwed the cap back onto the bottle. He then rubbed his thumb and forefinger against his chin mockingly. It was like Mitch was searching for ways to further tease Harry about his crush. Harry chose to ignore it this time.

Despite lacking approval in Harry’s newfound love-interest, Mitch offered him his honest knowledge anyway.“Hmm…well, I first met her at Sarah’s birthday party a few years back…She was nice, just a little on the quiet side. Seemed like she was holding herself back in that way, you know?”

The sincerity of his recollection shocked Harry. He was expecting to be turned down or mocked once again—he was even planning in his head what to send me via DM to further get to know me, assuming Mitch would’ve ended the conversation by that point. Luckily, he was mistaken.

“I remember her, like, tearing up at a picture of Lexi’s daughter. I thought that was a bit dramatic—the crying, I mean—but, I guess she hadn’t seen Lexi and her baby in almost a year or something..? I dunno…”

Harry frowned, empathizing with my reaction. It broke his heart whenever he couldn’t see his godchildren for long stretches of time, too. Mitch then tapped his fingertips against the table, traveling deeper into his memory to provide more details for Harry.

“…I’d say she’s sensitive in general, though. Sar told me how she’s always the one crying at movies, crying’ in arguments…cries whenever she sees a cat video on TikTok. Kind of a hot-mess, if you ask me…”

Harry’s lips twitched into a smile imagining my expressive emotions.

“...OH!” Mitch clapped his hands and chuckled before proceeding.

“She’s got this laugh that’s, uh, it’s like low-key really loud. Like, sometimes it’ll be this crazy wheeze and then, right away, she’s as red as a fuckin’ tomato. Sarah thinks it’s hilarious and they’ll basically laugh at each other for an hour. But yeah, you can tell she gets all weird and embarrassed after she laughs, though—and she apologizes for everything, all the time. Always sayin’ sorry when she literally didn’t do anything. I swear, dude…Someone could knock her onto her ass and she’d be the one to apologize. Wait, I think she’s from somewhere in the Midwest—like the northern nicey-nice states, y’know, so maybe it’s that? I’m not sure.”

“That’s…kinda cute.” Harry mumbled, his cheeks turning rosy.

Mitch grinned. “Oh, you think so?” A pink hue then washed over Harry’s skin entirely and he bashfully ran his hand through his loose curls. “Yeah, she seems quite lovely—I mean…”Harry stumbled over his admiration, trying his best to sound cool and detached. He failed miserably.

“…I-I dunno…Jus’ forget it.” He then buried his face in his hands, shamefully admitting defeat.

Mitch rolled his eyes and chuckled at his lovelorn friend. He guessed Harry was only randomly feeling things for me because he’s lived in a bachelor’s paradise for too long. It was also a known fact that he’d only have short flings once every blue moon. Those flings have become fewer and farther between as of late. Romance and commitment weren’t really Harry’s forte.

It’s not that he didn’t want a partner, but that he viewed the whole relationship-building process to be strenuous and stressful. Life and work were already difficult enough to balance. And so, for the past few years, Harry let himself be completely occupied by his job at Vol. 6. The go-to excuse to his friends (and especially his mother) for not settling down yet was that he carried a heavy workload, and he didn’t want to be an absent partner because of it. He’d end those conversations with a snippy “‘S as simple as that” phrase.

Even so, Harry was praying to God in the privacy of his lonely bedroom that he’d have the chance to settle down soon. All his adult life, he’d aspired to meet ‘the one’ and for him to give that one all his love and all his babies—a hopeless, hungry romantic Harry was. Dreams like these passed through his subconscious more frequently the more he aged. The British businessman was famished, desperate for love and connection.

Dating around was disappointing and redundant, and one-night-stands made him feel gross. He wasn’t simply a dumb, horny teenager anymore, he wasn’t even much of a dumb hornball of a man in his early adult years. Nay. He always kept an underlying craving for passion and compatibility. Harry was going to enter his 30’s in less than a year and he desired more than lackluster, meaningless sex with boring strangers. He needed more than arm candy. He needed more than a weak flame. He longed for an all-encompassing wildfire to eat away at his flesh from the inside out. He wanted to feel someone’s presence consume him.

Recently, Harry’s dreaming intuition had been signaling to him that he wouldn’t have to wait much longer to finally find his person. He was so needy for someone to genuinely love, and he felt overwhelmingly drawn to me from the very start—to my smile, my innocence, and my bleeding heart that matched his own. My lucky arrival into his life had only increased his determination towards lifelong romantic and sexual fulfillment. He just knew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The time had come for us to meet in person. We’d gone out for drinks with Mitch and Sarah one weekend. It was a safe choice. This way, no one would feel uncomfortable, left out, or excluded. But in all honesty, it felt more like a double-date than a friendly gathering at a local bar.

I had been somewhat apprehensive about drinking around Harry knowing how I was a bit of a flirty(slutty) drunk. All it took was 1.5 cocktails for me to be a giggling, cock-hungry devil woman. Sarah knew this about me. She’d witnessed my nymphomania from the sidelines whenever we’d go out for a girls’ night. Yet, this knowledge did nothing to prevent her from ordering the 4 of us tequila shots before I’d even stepped into the establishment.

Of course, I was late—I’m late to everything. But that night, it was different. I was on the verge of a mental breakdown with hangers and loose clothes strewn across my bed and crumpled in clumps on the floor. Even my mother felt the need to knock on my door after one of my particularly loud outbursts of frustration—making sure I wasn’t actually in pain. I was fine. I just needed to look my absolute-fucking-best when I met my dream guy face-to-face for the first time! Was that such a crime to try and accomplish?!

My mom didn’t get it.

I’d finally slipped into a pair of high-waisted, dark wash jeans that made my ass look like a big, juicy peach, and a red, ruffled peplum-blouse that deliciously hugged my curves—my large breasts, especially. I topped it off with a tin cup choker and a pair of black, knee-high, heeled leather boots. My self-confidence switched from plummeting to soaring once I’d done a final mirror check on my way out the door.

I knew I had the ability to somewhat ‘make an entrance’ (in dim lighting, at least). However, as soon as Harry and I locked eyes, I saw his mouth hanging open as if I was an A-List celebrity approaching him. My stomach glittered with butterflies at witnessing the effects of my gorgeously buxom appearance. The high-pitched ring of Sarah’s playful wolf-whistle pulled me back to reality.

There he was. He was real. And he was even hotter than I thought he was. Yet, it was him whose features reacted to me with lusty enchantment.

His pupils were devouring me as we stood in a lull. My hand extended towards him for a cordial handshake. But as his large hand gripped mine, he pulled me into his chest for a hug—planting a soft kiss on my cheek. What was even more unexpected was how natural it felt to have his arms around me. The four of us then did a few rounds of shots that night. As a (heavy-weighted) lightweight, I was giggling like crazy after the first two throws. Harry laughed every time I did, and vice-versa, and so we’d run out of breath repetitively—basically falling to the floor on top of each other. We looked like a goofy, touchy couple out on a double date, but we were completely ignoring the other couple. Sarah found our loopy mingling to be quite entertaining, as did Mitch. They both had intimate knowledge the other didn’t. The night eventually wound down and the snoozy (actual)couple left for home via car service. I definitely wasn’t sober enough to drive, either. Thinking back, I suddenly remember sharing a private moment with Harry around that time. Nothing R-rated. Not even PG-13, really.

Our friends had already parted ways, leaving the two of us drunk and cozy at a corner-table in the back of the bar. He ordered us some ice water, of which I’d gratefully accepted. I was mid-gulp when I felt his fingers tuck a section of my hair behind my ear. In hindsight, that was a cheesy, 90’s romcom thing for him to do. However, it felt so gentle and sweet in the moment, I didn’t care. My eyes blinked up at him, my mouth occupied with chilled fluids, and he smiled dreamily down at me. Swallowing and setting my glass down, a soft giggle escaped my lips.

“You’re even prettier in person, y’know.” Harry drawled. More light laughter came out of me before I returned the compliment. “Mmm, you too, Mr. Styles.” His cheeks dimpled and he shook his head at me. “Tha’s cute, but I’m serious.”

I raised my eyebrows at his accusation. “So am I.” My arms folded over my chest in playful defiance. We sat there for a few beats, deeply drinking each other in as if the other person was the bartender’s last call. Harry broke the trance first. “Need t’get ya home, love.” His hand moved to cover mine on the tabletop. Out of instinct, my glassy eyes followed his touch. He was cold, clammy even, yet I could feel my skin flush red-hot in retaliation.

Harry seemed hardly intoxicated or loopy anymore. He had more to drink than me, for sure. However, I had to hold onto him for stability in order to exit the building. Leaving the bar that night gave me the same satisfaction as going home after an amazing first date. I hadn’t met a guy so instantly enamored by my presence since high school…back when I was a size 8! As a size 16 in my early twenties, I’d gotten used to men talking over me and looking right through me. There was no reason for them to treat me that way. I’d always been told that I’m the nicest person in the world—that I was beautiful and hilarious and passionate and brilliant. None of that mattered, though. I was either met with pure indifference or blatant, manipulative narcissism from the opposite sex. But Harry was the diamond in the rough. He treated me better than just decently. He made me feel like a person deserving of much more than the bare minimum—more than just mere kindness—worth love, attention, effort, adoration, and affection. I hadn’t felt that in a long time…if ever.

And don’t worry, neither of us drove home. Harry ordered an Uber for me and rode along so that he could make sure I got inside my parents’ house safely—escorting me to the door like a proper gentleman would. I’d only really experienced that kind of ‘chivalry’ once or twice before. Not that every guy I’ve dated was a complete asshole to me, but the bare minimum was certainly a chore for some…It was refreshing to be treated so delicately—by someone who hardly knew me, to boot.

That entire first impression…it was a solid confirmation for me.

I liked Harry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry and I have grown to be quite friendly with one another since we first met a little over a year ago. However, we sure as hell didn’t start out that way—yeah, the amazing time at the bar was a false first impression. Sure, Harry would still have his moments where he was genuinely caring and gentle. But for the most part, his demeanor changed into that of an antagonistic older brother. So, you could say the initial acquaintanceship was tense.

For starters, we had that 5 year age-gap; and so Harry used that as a pass to be an arrogant, cynical, pretentious know-it-all. It was like he always needed to be the one and only expert on everything. And I’m certain he’s always gotten off on every rare instance where I’ve shown to be naive. Yelling-matches would occur every so often for months as both of us are sensitive hot-heads. We ended that streak of arguing when Harry’s big mouth had inevitably put me in tears. I think it was around the 6-month mark (of living together) when it happened. What’s silly is how his comment didn’t even deserve my dramatics, really. I’d already been in a piss-poor mood that night, and I’m just a crybaby in general. So you betcha any joke about me and my body, no matter how innocent the intentions behind it, throws just enough of a punch to unleash the hysterics.

I was in our living room watching YouTube when Harry came home from work. The video on the TV had pulled a full-blown guffaw out of me a minute or so before the door opened—which felt like a wave of relief after a long, miserable day at my job. I typically would spend more of my time enclosed in my bedroom, but I guess I just felt like switching things up that day. Besides, Harry acted as if he owned the whole goddamn place. The house was 50% mine, too (per our rental agreement). I had every right to venture away from my compact sleeping quarters for the evening. There was still a high probability that Harry would be a grump about it.

Fucking whatever.

If I wanted to enjoy our shared entertainment room, then I was gonna fucking enjoy it! My confidence was torn out from underneath me the moment that prick made his entrance. The door swung open, and there he was—white-collared, spotless, and as smug as ever. He released a generous sigh, an attempt at drawing my attention, but I refused to acknowledge his homecoming. What? Did he want a freaking ‘welcome home, honey’ from me or something?! Being a part of Harry’s House’s Greeting Committee wasn’t in the fine print of our lease. Plus, the last time I kindly acknowledged him after work, he brutally mocked me.

[“Hi!!!” I exclaimed with a sweet smile.

He raised an eyebrow as he slipped his shoes off. “Uh, hello.”

I was in the middle of stowing the last of the groceries away. I’d been in a pretty good mood that afternoon. I don’t know why or what made me so excited for Harry to come home, but I just was. Typically, I wouldn’t be keen on asking him to talk about his day. But, again, I was just feeling good. I didn’t understand why that deserved such an adverse response from the man.

“How was your day?! Oh yeah, you had that big meeting, or whatever, right?”

“Mhmm.” He muttered, unbuttoning the wrist cuffs of his shirt and rolling the sleeves up to his shoulders.

I grinned brightly at him and opened the fridge. The way Harry looked with his stuffy work clothes always made me melt. He kept his tattoos well-hidden, but simply pulling his sleeves back would reveal the art…and that was something he’d do as soon as he got home. The action was so small and innocent, but witnessing it so closely—whilst simultaneously inhaling the faint notes of his expensive cologne—sent rushes of heat down to my core. He had no idea how hot he was when he did that…actually, he probably knew exactly how hot he was…little shit…

“So…Did your presentation go ok?”

“Uh, yeah, ‘went fine. It was fine...glad to be home, though.” Harry sighed, but I saw him fighting a smile once I’d turned around to face him.

“Oh? Just fine?” Judging by his subtle cheekiness, I had thought he had some news to tell me. It just seemed that way to me, at least. Or maybe that he was hiding something, or about to make a joke. My latter suspicion was quickly confirmed as true.

“I dunno…It went well, I guess…couldn’t wait to get home...” Why was he smirking at me?

I giggled and continued the banter.

“What are you being so modest about? I’m sure the reps at Gucci fell in love with the designs.”

Harry slipped onto one of the bar stools and watched me unpack the remainder of paper bags from behind the kitchen island. He leaned back against the seat’s backing with his arms folded and resting comfortably atop his abdomen. After making silent eye contact for a moment, I resorted to laughing lightheartedly and raising my eyebrows at the man.

“Eh?”

Harry just smirked.

I’d begun to fold up the empty paper bags. My cheeks were definitely blushed pink, reacting sheepishly to his stare. To conceal my submissive appearance, I reached up—pushing up onto my tiptoes—to stack the paper bags above the refrigerator. It didn’t matter that my back was facing him. I could still feel his eyes following my every move. Why did he have to intimidate me so much?

“Fine, be that way. Just so you know, I bought cookies for us, but now I'm not gonna share!”

“Oh really?” He hummed, leaning up to rest his forearms on the counter.

Scoffing, I stepped forward to face him from the other side of the island and grabbed onto the edge of the countertop. My upper half was angled towards him so that I could talk more directly to him.

“Really, really.” I purred, not realizing my voice would sound so erotic. Instead of backtracking, I just ran with it. Harry’s pupils expanded much like a feline’s when they’re hunting their prey.

But he just sat there smirking at me. My pleasant mood wasn’t to be ruined by his teasing. I wasn’t going to allow it. I could play, too, Styles.

“What kind of cookies did you get us, hm?” His low, British drawl sent chills down my back.

“Oreos.” I didn’t sink into that ‘subspace’ as they call it. Not yet.

Harry basically moaned a hum out in approval. I swallowed, still combating my natural instinct to surrender like a desperate little puppy. This was getting more difficult.

“You know those are my favorite, don’t you?”

I blinked. “Uh huh.”

“I bet you got’em just f’me…you weren’t gettin’ them for us...” He paused for a moment. “…were you, sweet girl?”

“I…maybe…” I squeaked, earning Harry’s immediate amusement.

“I’m gonna take a guess at something real quick, a‘right, doll?”

“Ok…” He was so close to me. I was just thankful I’d been chewing gum at the time…

“Are you ovulating right now? Is that why you’re being so doting and domestic?”

My face fell.

“Wha—Excuse me?!” I stepped back from the counter and put my hands on my hips. What kind of guessing game was that?! Who even asks that?!

In the most annoying way, Harry stood up from his stool and copied my stance. He was using far too much sass and flamboyance to be accurate, though. I did not look like that…

“Oh, don’t you give me that look, sweetheart.” Harry chuckled, walking over to me. He then reached his long index finger up to *boop* the tip of my nose. I huffed in response. The breaking point was nearing closer with every word he’d spoken. But submission was not an option.

I knew that he knew. He had to have known. He must have caught onto my shyness, saw how much he made me blush, sensed how bratty I’d become whenever he teased me. I was putty in his hands.

“Awe, You’re cute…” He mumbled under his breath. His hand rose to my shoulder and he twirled a lock of my hair around his finger.

I was furious. It was obvious he was just trying to rile me up. That’s all this was…reaction bait.

“Harry…—”

“—I’m just sayin’, one might think you were trying to sweet talk me into letting you milk me dry and put a baby in ya. I’m sure you’re just as fertile as you look, aren’t you, babe?” He grinned and drummed his rings back against the marble counter, now leaning back all cockily.

There it was again—that smug little smirk on his stupid, perfect, dimpled face. What did he mean by, “as fertile as I look?!” God, a woman can’t be mean or nice without a man having some bullshit to say about it. Whatever. I told myself at that moment that the next man who dared to comment on my missing smile would be a dead one.

I gave him a dirty look and hustled my ass up the stairs to my room. Thankfully, I was finished putting all the groceries away. There was no reason for me to stick around playing this silly game with Harry. As I was making my way up, he called out to me, “I may have a high sperm count, but I’m not quite ready to be a daddy, yet, love!”

“Shut up!” I groaned and slammed my door shut. I think I could still hear him snickering to himself downstairs. Such a dick. Also, how the hell did he know I was ovulating..?! Ugh!

Oh, and Harry wasn’t even finished with his jokes yet, because he’d leapt up the steps in long strides and knocked on my door…just 5 minutes later. I opened it, having then changed into a crop top and pajama shorts in the meantime. Not only was my round ass falling out of the shorts, but my heavy, unsupported tits were also threatening to peak out from the bottom hem of my shirt.

Typically, I wouldn’t want to be caught dead wearing that kind of getup in front of anyone. However, I thought I looked deliciously thick and absolutely, downright-fuckable that night. Of course I’d been aware of this, as well. And so I used my innate feminine sexuality to my advantage. As soon as I opened the door, Harry’s eyes (unsurprisingly) flickered back and forth between my chest and my face. How classy… I took the liberty of folding my arms together in front of me to feign some modesty.

Looking back on it now, I definitely watched a similar scene in porn...

He just stood there at my door, all of a sudden at a loss for words. I wish that silence would have lasted longer. It took only a few seconds before he was flashing me his signature dimpled smirk again. He then mirrored my body language and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” He teased, plucking at the hem of the shirt sleeve that hung loosely past my shoulder.

My back straightened up, an attempt at asserting a smidge of self-confidence amidst my pink cheeks and pounding pulse.

“What do you want, Harry?” I tried to act annoyed, but I think I sounded too timid…and to be honest, the idea of Harry filling me up with his cum had caused my panties to dampen significantly. They were surely leaking through my shorts, but fortunately my thighs were meaty enough to hide it.

“Hmm…No bra? Tha’s interesting…” I could tell he lowered his canter when he said that, but I still heard him.

“Gross, you pervert.” I spat, squeezing my arms closer against my chest.

“Ay, hold on, little miss sunshine. What’s with the bratty attitude, huh?”

“Shut up, mister big loads. Go impregnate a sock.” My expressive irritability only further inflated his ego.

“Hmm, I’ve gotta say, tha’s tempting, but…I wouldn’t wanna make you jealous.” I wanted to scream.

“Ugh! Get out of my room!” I pushed at the door, but Harry held it open with his hand—and there was no way I could win against him in that impossible match of strength.

“First of all, I’m not in your room.”

I closed my eyes and tried to control my breathing.

“Second,” he held his finger up. “Would you like f’me to order us some dinner?”

I huffed. “What I’d like is for you to leave.”

He shook his head and tsk’d in response. “Mm-mm, tha’s not what I asked.”

My teeth clenched at his audacious snark.

“I don’t care, Harry.”

His rings then tapped awkwardly against the smooth wood.

“Ah…” he sighed with his head bowed. “…Look, I’m sorry. I was just tryin’ to mess with you...I didn’t mean to make you feel embarrassed…”

Even though I couldn’t stand him, I’d begun to feel my heart soften at his puppy-eyed expression. Why did he have to be so irritating and so adorable at the same time?! Just choose one!

Hmph…whatever.

“…Well, I know you’re hungry…I’ll pay…?”

I sighed and chewed at my lip. I was starving…

His boyish apology was reluctantly accepted, but I made a point out of picking something expensive. He could afford it.

We ate and watched a movie on the couch together. To my surprise, there were no more stupid comments coming out of his mouth for the rest of the evening. Impressive. I noticed his eyes turned basically black. It wasnt like we had all the lights off; plus, it was August—the sun didn’t set completely until 9pm. I felt those pupils following me.

It was apparent that Harry found me attractive. That night he certainly did. Or maybe he was just high? Either way, after he’d pointed out my lack of undergarments, I decided to brush him off as simply horny. At least that was the best explanation I could come up with for all the sneaky eye-fucking. There was no way I could’ve convinced myself he was actually giving me that kind of attention consciously…

After we’d finished eating, he went out of his way to fetch me a blanket(our good one, no less) and then proceeded to drape it around my back and shoulders, tucking me in as if he’d done it a million times before. Look who’s the doting one now, Styles!

I also remember how he basically bolted for the bathroom and took a shower as the film wrapped up with the end credits…Ok, ok…so, I may have purposefully bent over in those shorts while cleaning up the coffee table…but surely he just had a long day and was desperate for a hot shower…Surely.]

It’s safe to say that I toned down the ‘domestic’ part of me from that point on. Even though Harry just likes to get my goat, I still wanted to make it more difficult for him to have a reason to tease me. The night when our door to the garage swung open, his voice echoed through the house with such vigor that it sent yucky chills down my spine. Oh, the irony...

“Well, shit—Mitch wasn’t kiddin’ ‘bout y’laugh being loud as’ell! ‘Could hear ya from the driveway!”

This man survived off of my agitation, I swear. I shifted in my seat to face him and my eyes narrowed at the sight of his stupid, cocky face. I’ve always felt embarrassed about my somewhat-loud, slightly obnoxious laugh—and the thought that it’s been a main point of discussion between Harry and Mitch (and who knows who else) stung even worse.

It’s fine. Don’t listen to him. Don’t react. Just…breathe…

“Hi, Harry.” My intonation was as unimpressed as I could make it sound. He of course snorted at my brattiness, slipping his shoes off and tossing his wallet and keys onto the kitchen counter before taking long-legged strides in my direction.

“Good evening, doll.”

I huffed and waved my hand half-assedly. Something that drove me mad was how he was fiercely antagonistic towards me, and he insisted upon giving me little pet names. I knew he was just teasing me. That’s why I made sure to always swallow my bashful giggles whenever he said them. My subby-ness was not to be easily accessible anymore.

“So, what’s this, hm? Grown tired of hiding from me all the time?” He casually gestured to me with his flat, open palm.

I exhaled through my nose in aggravation as he plopped abruptly down onto the couch—his arm propped up next to him and one leg resting on the opposite knee. His draping arm was stretched out towards me. I refused to take part in Harry’s game at that time, and so I returned his question with silence. But it didn’t even matter because he could tell I was holding my anger in.

“Oh, I get it. It’s some sort of opposite day or summat.”

He stretched his fingers closer to where my head was resting on the back of the couch. They wrapped themselves around a smooth lock of my hair and twirled it continuously. This man thought it was absolutely hilarious to get even the faintest reaction out of me. Harry was generally the ‘touchy’ type of person when he’s around those he’s comfortable with. It made me feel special whenever he went out of his way to be affectionate towards me because…well, I had a crush on him for a while. And so, at first, I naively understood those soft touches as hints for his deeper feelings. At least that’s how I perceived things privately. But the more time I’d spent living with him, the more I had to come to terms with the fact that he was out of my league, and that he probably only viewed me as a little sister. My mind convinced me that Harry just enjoyed taking advantage of my innate submissiveness. He would never be attracted to someone like me. In order to protect my heart from the shattering effects of rejection, I chose to play into the little sister dynamic and behave as though Harry Styles was just a stupid fucking boy, and nothing more.

My behavior shift from the bashful sweetheart to the indifferent recluse somehow drew him closer to me anyway. I was so fucking pissed. I was sick of his games! Most of all, I hated Harry Styles. I hated him, and I hated his wandering hands, and his cockiness, and his giant ego.

My hair is not a toy, and I am not a doll reserved for Harry’s cruel amusement. And yet I kept living with all these antics because I…

…Because I liked his attention…honestly, I loved his attention. I’ll admit it! There was no way he could ever find that out, though!

That night when he (once again) twisted a piece of my hair around his long fingers, I pretended it didn’t make my heart flutter. My face stayed emotionless. It had truly been an award-winning performance by yours truly. To an outsider, this scene would’ve looked as if Harry and I were a bickering couple. They’d probably assume I was just a crabby girlfriend punishing her partner with the silent treatment. To be honest, that’s what it felt like for a second before I caught myself leaning into his gentle contact. I smacked his hand away from my hair and he just smiled at me.

Ugh!

He smiled at me, and then he poked my cheek with his index finger. I swear to God, my skin was on fire.

“So what’s next on the opposite day schedule? ‘You gonna go for a run?” Harry snickered and let out an amused sigh. “That would be the shock of the century, wouldn’t it?!”

He kept laughing at his juvenile dig. I let out a weak scoff, unable to swallow my pride that time. The air in the room was stale. Harry faced the television screen and sunk further back into the cushions. I sat there in mopey silence.

So I live a sedentary lifestyle, so what? And yes, I’m overweight—I’ve been struggling with my body my entire life, so there’s no need for anyone to give me a reminder. Regardless of the obvious and regardless of Harry’s ‘opposite day’ joke, I wasn’t in the right mindset to just brush it off…not that night. Starting a fight wasn’t the route I wanted to take either. I was exhausted. A retreat into solitude felt like my best option.

But, God…why did he have to fucking say that?

My bottom lip quivered and I was unable to blink back the tears for a moment longer. Every last ounce of patience I had left was dried up at this point. My long hair shielded my face whilst I bowed and dabbed my dripping eyelashes with my sleeves. Noticing the lack of verbal retort from me, Harry turned his head back in my direction. His breath hitched in his throat and his sage irises washed over to stormy blue.

“Oh, shit…” he muttered.

I sniffled and got up from the couch, making a beeline for the privacy of my bedroom. He never meant to make me cry. It was obvious Harry was just poking fun at me, but words can still hurt regardless of the speaker’s intent. It was too late for him to consider that now. Harry quickly jumped in front of me. He leapt into action so fast that I was physically startled back against my bare heels.

“What the fuck, Harry? Move!” I whined frustratedly at the man as he stood there with similarly glossy eyes.

Then he reached out and held my shoulders in his strong hands. His thumbs did that rubbing thing that most people only do when comforting their loved ones. Back then, I wished so badly that the simple gesture hadn’t sent such soothing goosebumps down my arms. It was so infuriating how this man held that kind of power over me.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, love. Please don’t cry. I—”

I gritted my teeth at his pity.

“—why? Are my big, fat tears too loud?! Or are you worried I’m so huge that I’ll get stuck, and my arms and legs will burst out of the fucking house?!”

Harry’s brows furrowed at my imagery. “Uh, wait—are you trying to reference…Alice in Wonderland—”

“—ALSO! Last time I checked, YOU were the one who ate all the cookies last night—YOU and your RABBIT TEETH fucking decimated my Oreos! So why don’t you go for a fucking run!”

Harry seemed amused with that one. His stupid dimples popped out at me and I was fed up.

“Get out of my way!”

I pushed against his chest, but he stood firmly on the carpet in front of the stairs. I remember fighting my urge to stomp my feet like a toddler. He wasn’t letting me retreat. He wouldn’t get out of my fucking FACE!

“I know you want to yell at me, so do it.”

“No, I don’t want to yell at you! I want you to move so I can go to my room!”

“Cmon, love. Talk to me…Give me all y’got. I know you have it in ya.”

“MOVE!”

Then he laughed. Why? Because I actually stomped my fucking foot—just like how I’d previously forbade myself to. And I’m sure the performance was quite entertaining for him.

“Don’t you throw a tantrum on me, sweet girl. Use your words!”

“You’re such a fucking smartass.”

“Oi, don’t talk about my ass like that! I’ll have you know, it’s quite dumb!” He grinned.

Un-fucking-believable. I can’t believe that got me to crack a smile. Harry instantly mirrored my surrendering, his hands drifting down from my shoulders to my elbows. My arms were crossed over my chest, but he wiggled them loose.

“YES! There’s that pretty smile…”

I huffed and groaned, feeling like a total child.

“…Don’t you be teasing me for my teeth—Y’look like a bunny just like me, babe.”

I giggled and playfully shoved his chest. “I do not!”

“Uh-huh! You definitely do!”

My hand rose up to cover my mouth and Harry just laughed at me. Lowering himself closer to my height, he *booped* my nose which caused me to scrunch it up in response.

“Aww, you are just a lil’ bunny, aren’t you?”

I squirmed and whined, annoyed as all hell with his patronizing.

“Don’t you start stomping your feet again, sweet Bunny. You’re better than that!”

I couldn’t help myself from just letting my guard all the way down at that moment. Inhaling deeply, I circled my arms around Harry’s middle and buried my face against his chest.

“Sorry…I just want us to get along, H.” My small voice was muffled against his shirt.

Harry frowned and wrapped his arms around me, reciprocating my surrendering embrace. My ear was pressed against his chest. There was a strong beat beyond his hard surface–my head pulsed with each fierce thump. That was the closest we’d ever been to each other. One of his hands slid up to my hair and combed through it.

“I do, too…I’m sorry.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sharing a house was less expensive for both of us 20-somethings, and rent has thankfully stayed reasonable and affordable since we two moved in a couple of years ago. I’m happy in my living space with my roommate. It’s a platonic situation between me and Harry—regardless of what family and friends want to believe. And I doubt it will ever venture beyond friendship any time soon. It can’t. Things are perfect right now…exactly the way they are. I keep my little fantasies to myself within the privacy of my bedroom. Harry can never know.

I’ve been single for a while. It’s possible that my holes are the tightest they’ve ever been, and that it might feel like I’m losing my virginity again whenever I do get some dick. So what, sometimes I think about what would happen if I just accidentally sent a racy photo to Harry…

…Whether he’d keep it and pretend he never saw it (as a way to be gentlemanly)…if he’d be disgusted and laugh at my body…or if he’d turn feral like I hope he would, bursting through my bedroom door and finally taking all that I’ve unconsciously reserved for him…

Don’t fret, my pet — smut will come in part 2 😈

Writer’s Notes: Hi, everyone🥰 Phew…well, there she is! Part 1! Thought I’d celebrate my birthday today by posting my first H piece💕 I’ll start off by saying…I’m kind of an obsessive perfectionist when it comes to my writing…so I won’t be super speedy when posting updates on my work, as I really want to be certain that I’m posting exactly what I want you to read. I know that other content creators on here are excellent at keeping a quick, reliable posting schedule—and I will be trying my best to do the same(I hope to make it in the same ballpark as them, at least). However, please be patient with me💕🙏🏻 💕 I have devoted a lot of time, love, and creativity into my work just so that I can share it online with strangers for free. I greatly appreciate any and all support, suggestions, criticism, questions, etc., so please don’t hesitate to comment or send me messages/asks. (Anons are welcome!) I’ve been working on this piece for a while now and I’d really like to get your feedback on it. If you would like to be tagged in future updates/parts, please let me know!!!👏🏻💗👏🏻🩷👏🏻💖 👏🏻

xoxo ~ Regan 😘💕

@victoria-styles @harrystylessmuttyfics @therealhousewifeofharrystyles

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estrellami-1 · 1 year

Text

Soft Touch Baby

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Pt 10 | Pt 11 | Pt 12 | Pt 13 | Pt 14 | Pt 15 | Pt 16 | Eddie’s POV | Song | ao3

(If y’all want a tag list or something let me know, I’m already up to part 8 or 9 in drafts. I don’t know how many more parts there will be after that, but I’m willing!)

Eventually the god-awful hitching in his breath stops. The trembling stops. The tears stop. His breathing slows down, his mind comes back online, and he takes a deep breath.

“Hey,” Eddie murmurs. “That sounds better. You back with me?” He punctuates it with a slow hand down Steve’s back, and Steve never wants to leave.

He forces himself to lean back, sniffle and wipe his face and try to rein himself back in, laughing quietly when Eddie hands him the entire tissue box on his nightstand. “Back,” he mutters, sniffling again. “Sorry.”

There’s enough light coming from the hallway that Steve can see the brow Eddie raises at him. “Sorry for trauma? Cut the crap, Steve, and tell me what I can do.” He shifts so he’s sitting cross-legged on Steve’s bed. “Wanna talk about it?”

Steve huffs out a humorless laugh. “No.” He picks at the corner of the tissue box. “You died. We were back in the Upside Down, and Dustin was just standing there, and I was getting annoyed because it’s not like we haven’t been through this before, it’s not like he doesn’t know what to do, which fucking sucks, but. Anyways. He was standing there, so I walk over and I- I see you, and…” he shakes his head. “Guess you tried to be the hero or some shit. I don’t know. Fuckin’ broke me.”

“I’m here,” Eddie promises again, hand palm-up on the comforter between them. Steve stares at it for a second before taking it.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, taking another breath before he trusts himself to look up at Eddie’s face. “You are.”

Eddie cracks a joke, because he’s Eddie. “So I tried to be the hero and I couldn’t cut it, huh?”

Steve might still be figuring out his own emotions, and where his feet exactly are (he’d been sitting at an awkward angle and his legs fell asleep), but he knows that tone of voice. “You know why I said that?” He asks. “Why I told you not to be the hero?”

Eddie snorts. “Think your subconscious just told us exactly why. I woulda died.”

Steve shakes his head. “I told you not to because I couldn’t risk it. I know you would’ve, no hesitation. But I needed you safe. Alive.”

Eddie giggles. “Well, shit, man. Way to make me feel like a dick.”

Steve squeezes the hand he’s holding and somehow manages a teasing tone back. “You do that well enough on your own.”

Eddie groans and flops backwards, head narrowly missing the tissue box. “You wound me,” he says dramatically, and Steve starts laughing.

Eventually Steve gets his emotions under control and Eddie sits back up, tugging on their joined hands to get Steve’s attention. “You thinking you can fall back asleep?”

Steve shrugs. “I usually stay up and read or listen to music or whatever.”

Eddie grins. “How about breakfast instead?”

Steve laughs incredulously. “At three in the morning?”

Eddie shrugs. “You’re not gonna sleep. I’m not gonna sleep if you’re not. We might as well. Plus, pancakes just taste better in the middle of the night. It’s a well-proven fact of life.”

Steve giggles. “You’re so fuckin’ weird,” he says, uncaring that his voice sounds unbearably fond.

“Why thank you, my good sir,” Eddie says in an absolutely atrocious British accent, almost tripping over himself as he tries to get off the bed and bow at the same time.

Steve very carefully doesn’t think about the fact that they’re still holding hands.

He flicks on the light as they enter the kitchen, then immediately regrets it, hissing and shutting his eyes. “Fuck, I forgot.”

Eddie pauses. “Your eyes need to adjust?”

“No, man, fuckin’ headache, just… just gimme a second, I’ll be fine.”

Eddie reaches over and flips the switch back to off. “Y’know,” he starts, quieter than normal, “I’ve never made pancakes in the dark before.”

He squeezes Steve’s hand, pulls him forward a few feet. Steve, eyes still closed, lets him.

He startles at the feeling of something cold on his forehead, only after the fact registering the sound of the freezer door opening and shutting. “Thanks,” he murmurs, squeezing Eddie’s forearm before moving to grab the ice pack, adjusting it a bit and sighing. “Tylenol in the bathroom. D’you mind—”

“‘Course, sit down, I gotcha. Want a Coke? Does caffeine help or hurt?”

Steve hums. “Hurt. Water please.”

“I’m on it. Nurse Eddie, at your service.”

Steve smiles as he imagines the overdramatic bow Eddie probably took. “Nurse Ratched, maybe.”

Eddie gasps in mock offense. “I will have you know I’m an excellent nurse.”

“Mhm. You’re takin’ a while on those meds, excellent nurse.”

“I- you- be quiet,” Eddie lands on, at odds with the soft squeeze to Steve’s forearm as he brushes past on his way to the bathroom.

Yeah, Steve thinks, I’ve still got it.

Pt 7

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #soft touch baby #this is Offically a Slow Burn I think #what constitutes a slow burn?#I think this counts #even if it’s only been like. a day in the fic lol #anyways #y’all are INSANE #you know that?#part SIX #I never imagined this #especially not from someone who hasn’t actually seen #stranger things #but that’s neither here nor there

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tesalicious2 · 1 year

Text

More Kortac:

König gets along really well with Askel and Klaus for obvious reasons. If any of them heads home, they’ll bring back the good beer and treats that they all know

Everyone will eat whatever is in the fridge, nothing is safe. Maybe if it has a not from a family member will some of them leave it alone. But that is no guarantee.

Horangi, in an attempt to ‘chill Oni out’, slipped marijuana drops into his tea and got him high as hell.

Oni laid on the common room couch for 6 hours without moving and said the weirdest shit.

Horangi was there the whole time and loved every moment, unfortunately, some others didn’t agree

Declan, Stilletto, Askel, Klaus, and Horangi openly laughed while Calisto and Zero were the only ones who didn’t find it funny at all

Oni quickly got Horangi back by replacing some of his nice kimchi with weird cheap stuff he found for online. He mixed it together to blend the flavors

At dinner that night, Horangi got half way through before leaving to throw up. Oni laughed the whole time

Horangi quickly returned to dinner and tackled him over the table, attempting my to shove some of the bad kimchi down his throat.

The yelling foreign languages at each other was funny. Mostly since it was Oni mocking Horangi and Horangi yelling rather than vice versa.

Horangi has seen everyone’s face, mostly because he doesn’t knock and has weird hours

This includes Ghost, even if they only worked together for a week

Fender is the only one who’s seen almost everyone’s face because they showed it to him willingly, König will wear a medical mask but won’t show his face

The medics know a lot of secrets about everyone, not important ones though, very stupid ones

Know Roze stole a loaf of bread from her family’s kitchen when she was 8 and felt bad so she tossed it in a lake

Know Zero once a had a crush on a middle school girl when he was in elementary and tried hard to get her attention but failed miserably

They won’t tell anyone because of Patient-Client Confidentiality and consequently become the secret keepers of the group

König only one who has seen Fender’s face.

KorTac tries to have dinner together and push the tables into a square, it’s really fun and they have game night (without gambling)

König has the highest tolerance and is has never gotten past drunk before.

He doesn’t really get drunk, he just gets wobbly and that’s all. No one knew the first time til he tried to get up and immediately tripped over his own feet, stayed on the floor and groaned, saying ‘damn, drank to much’

No one could remember how much he drank that night.

Everyone once saw him have like 14 beers (he has his own stash from home that’s strong and no one else likes) and said he felt tipsy and didn’t know his limit

Declan and Oni come in close second and Declan will brag about this to anyone who listens

Stilletto and Horangi are third but they don’t really care. Calisto, Zero, and Gromsko are the same way but have a lower tolerance

Zeus is really bad at drinking games and refuses to play, so they don’t really know his limit

He has admitted to being in the third place group, much to Declan’s amusement

Hutch has hacked into devices with weird search history’s. He doesn’t talk about it but if drunk enough he will tell some of the weirder non sexual ones.

Though, there are a few he will never speak of because thinking about them makes him shiver.

#headcanon #kortac #könig #Horangi #rozlin roze helms #calisto allard #cod hutch #declan o'conor #hiro oni watanabe #cod zeus #fender takacs #cod askel #cod Klaus #cod zero #I love them #crack #pry them from my cold dead hands #cod Stilletto #kortac operators

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angelprinz · 6 months

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hi it’s degen anon

cai has been too much i swear, im currently getting divorced from my husband childe it’s a lot 🥹 but hope you like!!!

childe really doesn’t understand like women thinking they’re better than him? like he’s not a messy gymnast or whatever you call it but he just feels like he better than most people women included, i mean his bloodlust started when he would get his ass handed to him by skirk. but that’s besides the point he loves strong women but the best thing about strong women is making them weak. psychologically, mentally emotionally he is versed i all forms of battle so no matter what era or even area he loves to find strong women and take them down a peg.

21st century girlboss business woman? did you mean barefoot wife with 6 kids? sick ass sword wielding hero whose slain dragons? you mean that witch who is now in the safe hands of childe her husband? he really has done it all, but once he does it it’s boring? but you were different.

it’s not like you really had anything going for yourself, a broke college student who works to barely make enough to stay on campus. he never thought of you for a second until he spoke to you. he wasn’t even trying but as you rung his cigarettes through the register you were very nervous and anxious but that could be normal. he obviously knows he’s attractive but the fact that you wouldn’t make eye contact was surprising, you passed him the bag and looked away immediately. so cute. it’s almost like you wanted him to get to know you (he’s delusional.)

he had a plan for you but it was going to be way easier, well it would’ve been if you just admitted you liked him. he works at your school because he knows your daddy issues leave you with no parental figures to tell you not to trust him. you’re obviously not the smartest cause your you use a very similar email to your school one for your little sites. he’s practically giving what you want on a silver platter but here you are actually doing schoolwork? (if you fail his class you have to do another year.) he sees you come into his office after hours thinking you’re going to give him favours under the desk for a passing grade, but you’re just here to ask about something on the exam??? he thinks that maybe he’s looking to much into it, it’s been months and he legitimately got a teaching degree for this but what if you just liked to read some taboo things online.

but one day you were very cocky, you posted on a site with little to know information about yourself but a picture of yourself in a skirt. you explained that you would be on a bus around 11pm coming back from work and if someone assaulted you you’d let them. well thats not fun because he likes a fight then he realizes that everyone has a limit.

you left the bus with a sigh thinking that no one saw your message. you felt a breeze but then it was just someone passing by. maybe the website didn’t have that many people in your area? you walk past two building and in between them someone emerged, it was dark but they were also wearing black. almost instantly you felt their chest press up against your back, you let out the air from your lungs as the happiness turned sour as you felt a knife against your neck. it’s almost 12 now and you two were the only people on the street so him dragging you to the alley went unnoticed. cold sweat down you body as you felt exhilarated at the feeling, his large hands roamed your body as they traveled down to your panties. you had specific information about what you’d be wearing, including panties with an opening. you heard the man behind you sigh as he spoke your name. all the hairs on your body stood up as he tsked you and said he had a seminar about internet safety that you should’ve been paying attention if you didn’t sleep during the class.

he knows what you’re thinking now, his crime psych class really did talk prominently about one time attacks. most times if you knew anything about your attacker, you’re dying. no matter how small, even the colour of their hair. but here you are, you were in his office last week so you know everything. it’s almost winter but your body was cold. the entire time he was inside you it really warmed him up with how your cunt felt. hours passed and he finished for a third time on your thighs, he enjoyed cumming inside but the first two loads left nothing left to cum inside.

your scared look, the small whispered moans were all worth it but what was the best was the silence after. he fixed himself as he really didn’t take off any of your clothes, he gives you props for easy access but the moment his hands left your body he was shocked. you grabbed at him, tears in your eyes he almost felt an emotion but what really did it for him is what you said. ‘more.’ he thought it was just lust but that wasn’t it, the shame in your eyes, the way your thighs squeezed together. he couldn’t believe it, sure the women he did this to, made them understand how little they were to him was more demoralizing for him but for you it only fuelled you. he couldn’t believe after he left you the next day you were completely normal but your search history was just filled with ginger professor assaults college girl, like he just assaulted you? why not ask? (you have social anxiety and can’t even ask for extra dips at mcdonald’s.) you were like a pandora for him and that’s what made him stay with you for a while.

(this devolved way to much at the end lmao, i think of myself most of the time i write these. he could literally be inside me one day and i’d still be nervous to talk to him 😭😭)

me when i put on my glasses to read it (i'm quite literally incel taru irl) and degen anon you sound like the cutest little victim on earth i'm going to eat you whole.

i need him so much i need him to make me into his housewife & take away all thinking privileges & make my permanent job being his toy.

#laven_talks #degen anon <3 #tw. dark content #childe <3 #childe smut

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neogandw · 1 month

Text

Page 4 of 6, the rest can be seen here.

Honestly this is the part where I just get to have fun with the training montage and the reason of why I love Smash Bros like I do.

The gameplay IS fun even if I don't actually play online matches all that much (I'm not all that competitive, I play mostly solo or with friends exclusively), but to me Smash Bros is a toy box.

I love these universes and Smash Bros has introduced me to many more over the years, to me its an introduction to various things I could learn and play with, and even more fun to me its concocting how these series gel together and how you could use their elements as playthings to craft a story or a cohesive universe.

I explored this before with another massive comic I made, honestly kind of one this is a sequel to. Its "The Strongest Fighter".

To me, I am not interested at all in "who would beat who", I prefer to think of "Okay, if these two were to meet, how WOULD it go down?" or "If so was in this situation, what would they do?", the joke of the Strongest Fighter comic is not to actually decide who is the strongest in terms of made-up power levels, but rather an exploration of how these characters view and talk about one of their own in a context disguised as a poorly thought-out question.

A lot of people tend to miss this, sadly, even if Shulk points out "Anyone can beat up Kirby" rather blatantly at the end.

So, going back to Page 4, its also similarly an exploration of the question "how do you go on about getting strong in this context?".

With splatoon, there's not much other than "pick up the weapon and sink or swim, we ain't an helicopter parent, you figure it out". But when you introduce the idea of a MENTOR (specially one out of universe like Peach is) how would you go on about teaching something so abstract as getting good aim?

Its not so much that Orange needs training in weaponry at all, I did make it a point to show that she was Super Fresh with everything BUT the Chargers back on Page 1, but that her aiming skills with the Charger are so off that:

Speedy targets won't stay still (Joker just dodging out of the way)

Her shots are blantantly obvious (Samus just leaning her head to the side)

She's not using shooting at a range, so her aim is so off that she misses even in Super Flat World.

So the training montage is tackling these issues.

Study up and learn how the weapon actually works, as I said her first mistake was skipping up Sheldon's explanation, so the first thing Peach does is explain the basics of the weapon to Orange (if you notice, the billboard does show things like leading the shot as exemplified with the Rabbid, using bombs to flush out your enemies and the importance of things like Ink Saver). Basic stuff, but you do hit the books to learn your tool.

Learn in a safe envoirement that is somewhat predictable, and it is slow going (notice the timer of the Break the Targets), get used to shooting long-distance first and foremost, no matter how long it takes.

Then you introduce the erraticness (AKA: the ducks) and practice off that, Orange hit exactly half and Peach mentions as much. The dog may laugh, but its a start.

And finally, put it to the test. I specifically chose Sonic to be the target to be hit because he'd be the most erratic, fastest and would NOT allow himself to be hit that easily. Landing a headshot on Sonic has to be the hardest thing you could do.

I did mostly pick scenarios that would be funny, but I did want it to be a ramping up in getting good. Not just jumping from point A to point B and just skipping to "welp, you're a god at sniping now".

Anyway, the hidden jokes and references of this page:

I used to be a teacher (programming, if you're curious), so the panel of Inkling Girl going to school is reminiscent of my experiences as a teacher and a student. hence why Inkling Girl's set-up on the school resambles what I know rather than the desks you find on Garreg Mach. Such as taking special attention to draw the ever present ruler, using a square notebook for math, the pencil sharpener and erasers being the ones we use down here on México and the bag being a knock-off rather than an official product. Its just sort of the norm you see around here.

You may notice the random calendar on the Garreg Mach page on the top left. On the coloring process I decided to add to the joke of Inkling Girl going to school by imitating a Persona UI.

Originally the joke was to have it be styled after P5's, but the UI used wound up being Persona 3's instead. Not only is it topical thanks to Reload, but the reason I did it is that curiously -just as I was working on this panel- I hit this date on reload ( 8/10 ) and it just so happened that THIS is when you downright lose an entire week worth of days because Mitsuru decided to sign you up for summer classes without consulting you. Fitting for Inkling Girl sacrificing her own free time to learn and study.

Small thing, but if you actually read Orange's notebooks you may notice she's dividing by zero.

Just to show how much Inkling girl sucks at aiming, the break the targets timer is there to show how badly she's doing. Normally during Break the Targets you either get timed to your best time counting UP if you're doing it on the dedicated mode or counting DOWN from 2 minutes if you do it from Classic Mode. The timer instead reads 28:05.15, meaning that Peach had her do it at her own pace and its been nearly half an hour of just missing shots (since she's only been able to hit 1 target so far).

Also, the timer number may be random, but its actually Splatoon 1's release date. I love to hide significant numbers like that on my works. I forgot to mention it but Peach's player ID back on page 3 was also a release date.

And to add on to the cute factor, the platform they're standing on in Break the Targets is actually taken directly from Peach's stage. So she's lending her own target test for the practice.

Fun fact: on the Duck Hunt panel you can see the UI discussing how many ducks have been hit by Inkling Girl. Not easily apparent though is the blue bar below the ducks.

THAT is the minimum requirement. In the original Duck Hunt the UI for the duck tally would shift over to the left and be compared to that blue bar, if you didn't shoot enough ducks to go beyond where the bar was pointing at the game would end.

Essentially, Peach is asking for a bare minimum of 4 ducks to be hit, which Inkling Girl technically did as she managed 5, but she's still frustrated due to the dog's mockery.

Irregardless of how the montage was gonna go on the planning phase, I always wanted to have Sonic be the last test for Inkling's improvement because -once more- I like to think more in-character when writting down these scenarios.

Sonic is the fastest thing alive, he's capable of dodging whatever bullet or explosive eggman tends to throw at him (capable, not reliable, it depends on player input if he does so or not). So he'd be perfect for target practice, specially for something like Sniping.

Sonic's pride would NOT agree with being shot in the face, admittedly, but he could be talked into it if asked as both a challenge and a request. Peach wouldn't put anyone in danger and it is really just ink, so if its for the sake of helping others, Peach could reliably ask Sonic to do it and he'd at least take solace in helping someone else. Though he'd likely taunt and make it as hard as possible due to his ego.

To show that it was amicable and that Sonic agreed to it I had the two bits of Peach handling a tower and Sonic giving a thumbs up, to show that he was in on the plan.

I could have drawn Green Hill Zone again (in fact, the planning phase did had it AS Green Hill), but I instead opted to go with Seaside Hill as the background (kind of a mistake on my part since Ocean Palace is OBTUSE on its architecture), mostly because I wanted some scenery variety with Sonic, its not always gonna be on Green Hill Zone, you know.

The Loading screen that Inkling is having on her head while she realizes she passed the final test is from Sonic 06, which I shouldn't have to tell you that its infamous for its loading.

I originally wanted it to be Splatoon's loading icons, but those would have required animation since they're not visually understandable otherwise. So I just went with the Sonic theme and made it match.

The UI used for the last two panels are the stage clear screens for Splatoon 2 and Splatoon 1 respectively. Also, I didn't just copy-paste the assets from Splatoon 3 into the comic, every time you see the weapon icons like that its one of my recreation of those assets.

#Splatoon #Smash Bros #Princess Peach #Super Mario Bros #Mario #Sonic #Sonic the Hedgehog #SSBU #Smash #Independent Artist #Commissions #Fire Emblem #Byleth #Fire Emblem Three Houses

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sunflowersandsapphires · 8 months

Text

Make a Mistake

Wake Up, Chapter 6

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: In an attempt to stop the advances of an unwanted suitor, Matt Murdock accidentally condemns you to being his fake girlfriend.

warnings: smut-adjacent towards the end (steamy kissing), swearing

a/n: This chapter was so much fun to write! I tried to unpack Matt’s insecurities a little bit and I had so much fun with that. As always, like, reblog, respond, and request if you have feedback!!

w/c: 3.6k

It had been a few weeks since you survived an attempted mugging, the pain in your head having mostly faded.

Matt had stayed with you at your place for the entire weekend, reluctantly departing for work on Monday—though he diligently checked in on you every hour. Your boss has been more than sympathetic to your situation, giving you a few days off and letting you work from home until you’d fully recovered.

During that time, you were hesitant to be left alone. While you barely remembered the encounter itself, the fear surrounding it was still very present as you went about your days. Matt had become your anchor (to a higher degree than he already was, you supposed.)

You replayed your foggy memories of that night over and over in your head, thinking back to how Matt had knocked a man unconscious to help you. Though, from what you knew about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, he was pretty practiced at that.

After you pieced together the trail of clues he’d unknowingly left you, you began to care more about the public’s view of the vigilante, for obvious reasons. It had become a new obsession of sorts. Reading newspaper articles about the various criminals he had stopped, looking at images of “sightings” online, rabidly defending him in online forums against trolls.

While others might feel betrayed or disgusted by Matt’s secret, you felt…awe struck.

This man was devoting every single minute of his life to the people of the city that needed help. The people that needed him. He had saved hundreds of lives, including yours. He had almost died. Multiple times, according to some sources. You’d have to ask someone about what the fuck had happened at Midland Circle, though you doubted anyone would be forthcoming with the story.

The knowledge of Matt’s alter ego made you want him even more, which was really complicating your role as his fake girlfriend. As was the fact that this sweet, savior of a man was now spending damn near every night at your place to make sure you felt safe enough to fall asleep.

Sheepishly thinking back to the night two weeks ago when you’d called him sobbing after a concussion-induced nightmare, you couldn’t help but smile at the thought that he cared about you enough to check on you daily after that. In fact, you were expecting him soon for your weekly dinner, which he had promised would turn into another night at your place. For your security, of course.

Groaning and dropping your face into your hands, you cursed your crush-happy little heart. Here you go getting attached to the man that you were in a fake relationship with. This was bad. Your feelings could jeopardize everything! And Matt didn’t deserve that. The poor man was working another job after coming home from the office and you were begging him to spend time on you for, what, comfort? Sure, you weren’t stopping his nightly activities from happening—if the way he leapt out your window after you had fallen asleep was any clue—but you weren’t exactly making his life easier.

‘And you should be making his life easier’, you scolded yourself. All this man does is help others. He deserves to have someone looking after him for a change. Hell, he deserves a whole team of people to look after him, but if you needed to act as a one-man army, you could do that.

A knock shook you from your thoughts. Putting your anxiety on hold, you went to retrieve Matt at the door.

Picking at your dinner as your nerves tied your stomach in knots, you faked a smile and asked “How was your day, Matty?”

“Not bad. We got the charges on the Jones case dropped. Dismissed with prejudice.”

“Oh Matt, that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you!!” Slipping your arms around him, you squeezed tightly. “Shouldn’t you be out celebrating?”

“Eh, I was tired. Besides, a bar wouldn’t really be good for your head just yet and I don’t want to give you a migraine.”

You shook your head at him, smiling. “We aren’t sewn together, you know. You should've gone without me!” You gave his shoulder a light shove.

Matt simply shrugged, burying himself in your hair. “I don’t want to go anywhere without you, anymore.”

The statement caught you off guard, but before you could blurt out a response, he stammered. “I—I mean, you’re my girlfriend to the public. So it’s best if we spend a lot of time together around other people, is what I meant.”

Your heart sank. “Yah. No, yeah that makes sense.” You were quiet for a moment while you debated whether to be honest with him about your growing affection. After a bit of deliberation, you choked out “How did you get the charges dropped? I thought that case was a disaster.” Cringing internally at your cowardice, you pulled away from Matt and back into your own seat.

Matt frowned, hands clenching momentarily before his expression evened out. “The court's error was big enough for us to turn their main argument on its head. The judge didn’t think the case was worth the time after that, I guess.” He gave a mirthless chuckle, staring at his lap.

“Good thing you discovered that error then!” You squeezed his knee and his expression brightened a little.

“I did the easy part. It was all Foggy and Karen, really.”

“Well, you’re a team! So of course they would—“ you tried to reassure him but Matt interrupted.

“Honestly, I’m shocked they still want to work with me. I rarely pull my weight. They’re both so kind and devoted and I’m…I’m a mess.”

You looked at him in disbelief, gently taking his hand in your own. “What do you mean, darling? How are you a mess?”

Biting his lip, he refused to turn into your gaze. “I just— we won today but I felt so…ashamed. Like everyone was giving me all this credit for something I didn’t do. I feel like that a lot of the time.” He closed his eyes, body deflating.

“Oh, Matt,” You cupped his cheek to try to bring him out of self-deprecation mode, but he wasn’t ready to step out of it yet.

“And it’s not just work, I mean I have no idea why you haven’t run for the hills yet. I’m overbearing and temperamental and selfish. I just take and take and most people realize that and cut me off— but somehow there are some people that don’t seem to care that I’m bleeding them dry. But I can’t pull away because…I need it now. So I just sit here and take the credit and pretend that I’m helping, but I’m not.” To your horror, his eyes became glassy.

“You are helping.” You began firmly. “And you are allowed to need help yourself, darling.” You tenderly gripped his nape, stroking the skin underneath his jaw with your thumb. “We haven’t ‘run for the hills’ because we care about you too. And, as much as you want to deny it, you are incredibly patient and sweet and thoughtful.”

“But I—“

“Darling, I’m more than willing to hear you out, but I want you to acknowledge that this is just a flare up of your imposter syndrome and a side effect of your crippling Catholic guilt. Is there anything that you could be doing that would satisfy you? Or would you still be critical of yourself for not doing ‘more’?”

Matt sighed, leaning into you and resting your foreheads together. You brushed some hair away from his forehead and gave it a firm kiss before letting it fall against yours once more.

“I am honored that you trust me enough to talk to me about this, and your feelings deserve to be heard and acknowledged, but you have to cut yourself some slack sometimes. Have you ever had a moment where you felt that you were enough?” You posed the question as precariously as possible, but Matt still felt emotion well up in his throat.

“No.” His soft voice cracked on the admission.

“Why not?” You pressed, still stroking his warm skin.

“Because…because—“ he drew in a ragged breath. “I’m just not enough. I’m just not and I never will be.”

“And I can absolutely relate to how you’re feeling right now, but have you ever had a personal reason for feeling this way, or is it because it’s what you’ve been told?”

Matt hadn’t revealed much to you about his childhood, but you knew that it hadn’t been filled with love or validation. As someone who had also lacked those things growing up, you expected his guilt and shame surrounding what he wasn’t doing stemmed from never being good enough for others.

“Matty, darling,” you continued as he stayed silent, your concern and curiosity growing. “When was the last time you felt appreciated by someone close to you”

“Um…probably last week when you—“

“Someone besides me, love.”

Matt held his breath, wracking his brain for an answer that would appease you, but he couldn’t find one.

“I don’t know.” A tear finally slipped down his cheek and you brushed it away.

“Do you feel good when people do appreciate you?”

Matt nodded against you. “Yah. I know I don’t deserve it but…”

“Matthew Michael Murdock, of course you deserve it.” You chastised, but your words held no real anger. “I know it’s hard to believe when you hear it so rarely but you are wonderful. And if I have to convince you of that all by myself, I will.” You repositioned yourself so that you were in his lap, running your fingers along his scalp, foreheads remaining glued together.

“You are so compassionate. Everything you do is for someone else. I don’t know many people who would think about dropping their evening plans to console a friend after a nightmare once, let alone consistently care for them for weeks after.”

“See? Overbearing.” Matt interjects and you push at his chest to interrupt him.

“No! Not overbearing. Kind. And you might operate on a…unique schedule…” Matt flinched at this so you hurried to praise him again. “But! You are so effective and intelligent that you manage to juggle everything anyway! Like that week when you stayed home from the office because you’d fallen and sprained your wrist. You told me Foggy was upset with you, but you unraveled the opposition’s argument in less than an hour the day you came back. That was impressive. You’re impressive.” Matt flushed at your comment, burying his face in your neck. You smiled down at his adorable position before continuing.

“And you’re so resilient! You’ve been through so much and you’re still trying to make the world a better place. So many people would’ve given up on the rest of humanity but you don’t. And I don’t think you ever will. You’re just so…good. So don’t ever say that you don’t deserve to be praised for what you do and who you are. You’re the best man I’ve ever known. And I will always appreciate you.”

“Thank you,” Matt spoke your name softly, gripping the top you wore as if it was the only thing holding him together.

“Anytime. I mean that. If you’re ever having a bad day, I will gladly ramble on about your great body and incredible personality.”

“I don’t believe you mentioned my ‘great body’ before.” Matt straightened up with a tiny smirk.

“Oh c’mon. You and I both know that you’re well aware of the effect you have on women. We’ve been fake dating long enough that you don’t need to pretend with me.” You scoffed.

“I know that other people have considered me attractive, hell, Foggy talks about my ass so much some people think we are married. But I don’t think you have ever said anything.”

“Because I knew it would go straight to your head and i refuse to give you the satisfaction.”

“Weren’t you just saying that I should be complimented more?”

“This is different.”

“How?”

“It just is!” You laughed as he poked your side.

“It sounds like you’re not ready for my line of questioning. We may have to revisit your testimony at a later date, if the opposition permits.” Clearly his wave of insecurity had passed, if the joking nature of his comments were anything to go by.

You shook your head at his jest, tracing his perfectly sculpted jaw with your fingers. As you scraped your nails over his stubble he made a sound akin to a purr. Giggling, you did it again with a bit more force. “You like that, do you? Good to know.” Your brain signaled to you desperately. You are treading a dangerous line, ma’am. You ignored your rational side, continuing to stroke the lawyer’s face.

Matt let his head fall against yours once more, the bridge of his nose pressing against your cheek. Your hand moved back to his scalp, kneading gently. Leaping over your own anxiety, you took a risk. He felt your jaw move as you spoke again. “You know, I’ve been thinking about all the preparation we’ve done, but we haven’t practiced something that seems kind of…big?”

Matt nuzzled your ear, hearing your pulse throb under his touch. “What’s that, angel?”

“Well, um, it’s just that—we’ve never, uh, kissed before.” You stumbled over the request, continuing to thread your fingers through his hair. Before Matt could say anything, your ramble continued. “I mean, you’ve kissed me on the cheek, I guess. Sorry, I don’t mean to sound needy or anything—I mean, it’s fine! We don’t need to do that. Forget I said—“

Cutting you off, Matt swiftly dipped your body so that you were lying horizontally on the couch cushions and positioned himself over you. A dark smirk crossed his face as your arousal grew. “Have you been thinking about kissing me, angel?”

“No!” You squeaked, wriggling out from the trap his arms and provocative gaze had created. God, why was it so hot in here right now. Standing up from the couch, you paced away from him. “I just meant— It seems like something other people would expect couples to do, is all.”

Matt’s sinister smile faded to a softer one. “If you wanted me to kiss you before, sweetness, all you had to do was ask. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh trust me, you don’t need to worry about that.” You brushed off the concern quickly before realizing what you’d just admitted to. “Uh—I mean—“

Matt just chuckled, standing from the couch and moving over to you. He softly took your chin in one hand. “You know, you’re cute when you’re flustered.” That statement did not help your feelings at the moment, but Matt wasn’t done. “You want me to show you what we could do, the next time we are at an event together?”

You were nodding, practically breathless at this point. “Please, Matty.”

“Well, a pretty girl like you deserves a nice experience, not just a quick peck on the lips.” Matt pursed his lips, thinking, and you fixated on them. Desire was pooling in your gut. Matt, seemingly, did not notice your growing hunger as he stroked the hollow of your cheek before continuing. “We’d want to get their attention, right? So, I think I’d start by pulling you close.” He tugged you into him, making you gasp. Smile widening, he slid a hand around to the back of your neck. “I’d want to hold you like this, I think. Make a real big show of how lucky I am to have you, ya know?”

This man was going to kill you. He had to know what he was doing, right? Damn your lovestruck heart for initiating this.

You shifted from foot to foot, a rush of pure lust making you a bit impatient. Matt frowned, “Sorry, too much? Need to stop?” His hand dropped from your nape and you whimpered involuntarily.

“No!” You squeaked, cringing at how high pitched your voice sounded. “No, it was nice. Please don’t stop, I want to, um, prepare for the next event! Like you said.”

Matt’s smile flickered back to life, his hand coming to rest under your hair once again. “Oh, I get it now. Did you like this, pretty girl?” He pulls you impossibly closer, breathing over your lips. “I’ll keep showing you what we could do, but if you stop liking what I’m doing, you tell me, ok?”

“Uh huh.” You managed, completely breathless now. Matt grinned, wrapping a strand of hair around one finger and giving a slight tug.

“Good girl.” You bit back a moan, keening into him a bit. Matt steadied you with a laugh, “Well, once we had everyone looking—and they would be looking, sweetness—I’d lean in…” He did so, his lips ghosting over yours. “And I’d kiss you until everyone in the room knew you were all mine.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You forcibly closed the indiscernible gap between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him. As your lips met, sparks danced across your eyelids. You’d heard rumors, but you were still amazed at how skilled Matt was. He was an incredible kisser. Threading your lips together with ease, he gave your top lip an almost imperceptible tug before slowly pulling away. “Something like that, sweetness.” He panted, brushing a thumb over your lower lip.

“I think I need another demonstration.” You murmured, hand coming up to his head to push him back onto your lips. His mouth parted in a broad grin as you desperately pressed your mouth to his again. Your knees were practically buckling, Matt was holding you up—hand still woven into your hair.

Stubble scraping against your chin, you gently pulled at his bottom lip, mirroring the sensation he’d just created for you. His breath danced across your face, a small noise escaping his lips. His tongue gave the tiniest swipe over your lip and you mewled.

Pulling away abruptly, your own noise acting like an ice bath, your eyes widened with horrific realization. Clearly, you were taking advantage of the position he’d put you in, and you were more than embarrassed at the thought of you getting off on it.

“Oh god, Matt I’m so sorry—I-I don’t know what came over me!” You stammered, stepping away from him with your head falling into your hands. He let you pull away, but smiled after you, shaking his head.

“You didn’t do anything I wasn’t more than ok with, sweet thing. I’d be overjoyed to practice that again sometime.”

You peeked at him between your fingers. “Really?”

His eyes darkened with want. “Really.”

“Are you absolutely sure? Because I don’t want to push you—“

Matt was on you in an instant, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and touching his nose to yours. “Please, angel, kiss me like that again.”

And you did.

“So are we going to dance around the big fat elephant in the room all night?” You stirred your drink, avoiding Marci’s question.

“What elephant? There’s no elephant.” You assured her, maybe a little too quickly given her knowing smirk.

“God, you're a worse liar than Fog. Who told me after little to no pressure was applied that you and Matt are kissing now? Am I supposed to pretend that’s not a massive development?”

“Marce, it’s not like that. We were practicing for the legal conference next week.”

“I’m sorry, ‘practicing’? You have to know how disgustingly middle school that sounds.”

Burying your face in your hands, you heaved a sigh, knowing that Marci would not drop the topic until you’d satisfied her curiosity. She was ruthless that way. “I mean, when you put it like that—“

She laughed as heat rose in your cheeks. “Ok then spill! How long has this been going on? Have you told him that you like-like him yet?” Her voice rose in a sickeningly teasing falsetto.

Ripping your head out of your palms, you looked at her in shock. “I do not like-like Matt. What are you—“ You trailed off, taking in Marci’s knowing look and raised eyebrow. Returning to the shelter of your hands, you groaned. “God, does everyone know? Does Matt know??”

“Foggy, Karen, and I have been speculating for a while. Matt seems to be blissfully unaware.”

“Ugh! You can’t tell him, Marce. Promise me! It’ll ruin everything.” You pleaded, anxiety swirling through you at the thought of him finding out that you’d been infatuated with him throughout the fake relationship.

“I won’t tell him.” Marci took your hands in hers, encouraging you to look at her again. “But, I don’t think it would ruin anything. In fact, I know that it wouldn’t. He likes you just as much as you like him.”

“He does?” You bit your lip, warmth cascading over your face at the thought of Matt returning your affections.

“Yah, babe. He treats you like you hung the moon. And, apparently, you two have kissed already…”

You rolled your eyes. “Ok we kissed a handful of times in my apartment and once in public and we agreed that it was so it wouldn’t look awkward in front of Snyder in the future.”

“Ok so that is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. You two have kissed multiple times in the last week and you still think this relationship is fake? I’m begging you to put an end to all of this misery and TELL HIM HOW YOU FEEL.” She gently shook your shoulders to prove her point and you laughed.

“Ok! Ok. I’ll do it. I’ll tell him.”

“Thank god!” Marci downed the rest of her drink. “I'm going to hold you to this.” She pointed at you, sternly.

“Yah, yah. I know.”

Little did you know, Matt was getting an eerily similar lecture from Foggy and Karen on the other side of Hell’s Kitchen.

Taglist: @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @scoliobean @harperdoodle @mattkinsella @leikelle @sweetbee0108 @dark-night-sky-99 @fallen-angels2213 @will-delete-this-later-probably @cheshirecat484 @thornbushrose @vernon-dursley

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wineonmytshirt · 1 year

Text

CONCERT TIPS FROM MOM JEN™️ THAT 💝NO ONE💝 ASKED FOR!!!!!

1. be aware of your surroundings!! LOOOOTS of people!! stay close to besties/parents/family, etc, even if you gotta hold hands and make a chain!! if you’re on your own, kid, i’ll be around if you need someone to DM or text, don’t be afraid to send me a message!! xo - otherwise, find your seat and see who is around you!

2. DON’T LEAVE YOUR DRINKS UNATTENDED ! DON’T LEAVE YOUR DRINKS UNATTENDED ! this goes ESPECIALLY for those going out after if you choose to do so!!!!!!!

3. STAY HYDRATED! Check to see if your venue allows a single factory-sealed water bottle! (thank you a MILLION for this tip @cages-boxes-hunters-foxes ) & TRY TO HAVE A SNACK OR SMALL MEAL IF YOU CAN! Energy, yaknow?!!!!!!! 💖 supposedly its a 3 hour set plus openers so you wanna feel ready! xx

4. EARPLUGS ARE YOUR BESTIES!!!! They have fun concert ones I’m sure at nearby shops! (for later dates check online or i can find stores if u need!) that ringing after concerts is not Good!

5. Costumes fucking rock but remember to wear something ✨comfy✨ that you won’t get overheated in!!!!

6. You may see someone acting a way you don’t agree with or just someone you don’t like in general - mind your business (unless they’re being a huge AssHole then maybe tell someone like in charge don’t start something and ruin it for others)

7. I should have put this higher up BUT KEEP TRACK OF YOUR BELONGINGS!!!! wallet, merch, money, clear bag, keys, etc. I always keep mine tucked close or wrapped up in something to be safe!

8. Be aware when returning to your homes or hotels or cars or ubers ETC !!! Again, stay close to friends or groups!!! SWIFTIES IN NUMBERS!!!!!!!!!

9. HAVE !!! THE TIME OF UR LIFE !!!!! GO WILD!!! SING EVERY SONG UNTIL U CANT SPEAK!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU ALL SO DEARLY EVEN IF WE ARENT MOOTS OR HAVE NEVER SPOKEN !!!!!!!!!

10.EDIT*** FORGOT TO ADD WEAR A MASK INSIDE !!!!!!!!!! TAKE CARE!!!!!

tysm for the banners @sweetrevelation xo

*i may update this if i feel annoying or think of anything else* BUT FEEL FREE TO ADD ON!!!!!

#THIS IS A SWIFTIE PSA!#i’ve never seen taylor (😭 til july) but i’ve been to loads of big concerts so i just wanna help if anyone needs it!#jen talking to you guys #the eras tour #eras tour #concert tips #taylor swift #tswift #swifties #swift city #eras tour glendale #tswiftresources #resources #signal boost #i’d appreciate it !#save for later

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sfwregressionfanfictions · 1 year

Text

Dean Winchester X Little! Reader: LD PT2

WC: 1882

Summary: An online dating app leads to a long-distance relationship.

A/N: Why does wifi suck? Also why does college give you no personal space to write??????

Part 1. Part 2

Dean was attached to his phone and computer like a high schooler. He adored having a little one he was getting to know. He recently sent a package containing a paci, a onesie, a tiara, and a few other trinkets and toys. The little one really needed to be more cautious about giving out their address as they did with him.

Cases had currently been at a standstill. So Dean was allowed to stay at home all day and talk to the age regressor he had come to care for. He learned so much in such a short time about the little artist, they told him about their family, how they work as a little bakery, and how they were scared of the closing shift. He felt bad about lying or not telling the full truth to them, but it was for their safety.

But how badly he wanted to tell them and let them know and trust him. He wanted to fully commit to the little and be their caregiver. He wanted nothin more than that. He missed taking care of someone so small and in need of protection, now that Sam was grown, he didn’t have that.

A ding from his phone interrupted his pining. It was a text from the little one.

Y/N: Good morning! I’m in charge of the bakery today! So I have to bake, wish you could try it :((

Dean: Good morning, Sweetheart. That’s so exciting! I wish I could try it too, what are you baking today?

Y/N: Gonna make macaroons, cookies, pies, and cakes. Gotta make so much, but it’s okay. Cause it will be fun.

Dean: That sounds like so much fun, bet they are gonna be so yummy! Maybe one day you could teach me how to bake?

Y/N: YES YESYESYES!!! Does that mean you are gonna come see me?

A pause just for a moment, hesitation filled the air.

Y/N: Or I could visit you? You wouldn’t even have to travel.

Dean: Maybe, how about we talk about it after you finish working?

Y/N: Okay, talk to you at 6?

Dean: Talk to you then, have a good day baby

(Y/N) tried to continue their day like they weren’t nervous, however, they were unable to keep the act up long. Their hands shook with nerves, he was probably gonna say no most likely.

Although they were doing something they love, time seems to barely move. The hours were dragging and it was hard to focus due to the nerves. They tried their best to focus as to prevent any mistakes, they wanted the owner of the small bakery to like them. The owner was an older woman, who was like a grandmother to everyone in the store.

Soon the clock struck 5, it was time for them to clean up and go home. They would clean up the mess they made while cooking, and clock out at 5:30. Then walk home and hopefully be home by 6. The path wasn’t long, they just usually go distracted by random stuff on their walk home, at one point they had sat on a bench on the walk home to gawk at a rather hairy man, as they believed he may be a werewolf.

Y/N: Heading home now! Talk to you soon.

Dean smiled at his phone as he cooked bacon to go on top of the burger he was making. He had a day full of contemplation and planning and recontemplation. Should he stay or should he go?

Dean: Good, now be safe on your way home.

The walk home was short, with very few distractions. How could they be distracted at a time like this? They were in a hurry. They arrived back at their beat-up small apartment quickly, only stopping to unlock the door and grab the large box on their doorstep. Usually having a box at their doorstep would bring them extreme excitement, however now they had to call Dean.

Ringggg… Ringggg… Ring….

Dean was quick to answer, nearly ripping his pocket off his jacket. It was playing the special tone that he set for (Y/N), as he didn’t want to answer the phone all grumpy like he did the first time they called. Meaning they got home and wanted to talk to him.

“Hey Buba,” Dean answered, making weird wobbles in his voice. He knew he did a good job when a giggle floated through the phone.

“Hi.” It was shorter than their usual enthusiastic greeting, which cause some concern to bubble in Dean’s stomach. “I got a big box at my door, it was hard to carry.”

“Wish I could have helped you with that, why don’t you open it where the arrow is pointing? Maybe there is a surprise in there for you.” Dean smiled at the thought of them still in their work clothes, about to be small and bouncing.

“Arrow?” There was a pause, “You sent me this?”

“I did.” Dean answered, knowing he was about to have to reassure big (Y/N) that it wasn’t a big deal, “ before you start saying anything about this, it was nothing. I wanted to get you a gift, don’t try being all ‘oh you shouldn’t have.’. I did it, and I will do it again.”

“I-” They paused, “Thank you, I’ll get my box cutter and open it.”

He smiled as he heard them beginning to rustle to find the box cutter. They seemed excited or nervous to see what was in the box.

“Gonna be careful right?” Dean asked once they made a sound that he would consider success.

“Ye, no touching the pointy parts.” They respond obviously absorbed in the thought of a gift, that they were aware was most likely for little (Y/N).

“I wish I could see your face when you open the gifts.” He smiled, as he hears the light slicing of tape, and them struggling with the box to open the edge that wasn’t cut completely. “You gonna read the note first?”

“Ye,” They spoke, beginning the note with a loud and proud voice, but slowly going quieter and mumbling as they began regressing. They were always shy about how hard reading could be when they were small.

“Open the gifts now baby.” Dean prompts, as they finished the card. The sound of the newspaper being removed from the box was louder than he thought it would be.

“You got me a paci?” They sounded choked up as they stared at the design. The design was Siren-like, and it had the words “little monster” on the handle.

“Yeah, do you like it? Should be a few other things in there too…” Dean asked hopefully.

“Yeah, didn’t need to do all this…” (Y/N) mumbled over the phone.

“But I wanted to, how about you try on the gifts and we can maybe have a talk?” He wanted to talk about the possibility of him visiting them.

The atmosphere in (Y/N)’s apartment deflated quickly at the mention of the dreaded conversation was brought up. They had believed for a moment that everything was perfect between the pair. However, he was preparing them for his big no.

“Oh yeah, umm we can talk, yeah.” Their voice was less childlike and more anxious.

“Baby, it is okay, this talk isn’t gonna be bad.” Dean replied quickly, trying to calm the obviously stressing little.

“Okay, can we talk about it now?” They said, just wanting it to be over.

“Of course baby,” Dean says as he opens his computer that he was looking at routes on, “what does your schedule look like for the next few weeks?”

“Mmm Nothing only working,” They replied, picking their thumbs.

“Okay, how would you feel if I left tomorrow and got to see you in about 2 days?” Dean asked.

“Wait.” They paused almost processing what was being said. “What?”

“Obviously it could be sooner or later depending on traffic, would it be okay if I slept at your place? It would be like a little sleepover.” Dean continued knowing they would register what he was saying soon enough.

“YES YES YES YES!!!” They screamed, only to stop, “Sorry, didn’t mean to yell. Thought you were gonna say no.

With that conversation completed, (Y/N) was quick to regress and babble about all the stuff they would do together. Dean was packing as they spoke as he would have an early morning. It was all simple and little (Y/N) even started cleaning, it wasn’t much just putting some of their toys away. They stayed on the phone until (Y/N) fell asleep.

The next morning came quickly, Dean was already on the road by the time the sun was up. It was unheard of for him to be awake even a few hours after the sun is up, but today was different. He wasn’t being the safest going quite a bit over the speed limit, but he just couldn’t help it. He would text sweetheart at stops, when he filled up for gas, took a bathroom break, or was getting snacks/souvenirs from each state he went through. Both days were like this although the second contained more bouncing in his seat and fewer stops.

(Y/N) spent the two days working and stress cleaning. They swept and mopped their floors three times, and dusted them twelve times. While at work they asked for the first day Dean would be there off and the owner hearing how excited they were, gave them a week of paid time off. The owner stated something about only being young once and young love, (Y/N) was too excited to correct her. They were only friends, for now at least.

The day had come when Dean would arrive, he called saying he’d arrive around 1 pm. That means they woke up at 5 am to clean everything twelve times again, and run to the store to get actual food and ingredients, so as to not force Dean to eat fast food and microwave meals.

With their grocery bags on the counter, half of the food was already put away when there was a knock at the door. I wasn’t even 12 pm, the first thing that passed their mind was that there was no way that it was Dean already. But their feet moved on their own, and the door swung open before they though to check who it was. There a man stood, he was tall with slightly spiked hair, he had a ‘Joey’ from friend’s smile.

“Sweetheart?” Their voice died in their throat, eyes began to water slightly as they stared at the man that was acting as their platonic caregiver and honestly best friend. Rather than speaking, (Y/N) threw themself into his chest sobbing out of join.

“Dean… “ was all that managed to excape them, as they clung to him. He clung back seeing the person he came to life made him cry in joy. If anyone asked he would say it was simply allergies.

They sat in the hall and hugged for longer than any two friends should. Neighbors stopped to stare as they walked passed, but Dean and (Y/N) only saw each other.

#dean winchester x little!reader #dean winchester x reader #age regression community #age regression fic #agere community #sfw age regression #age regression reader #agere fic #sfw agere #cg! dean winchester #x little! reader #agere little #little!reader #little reader

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 4 months

Note

hello sex witch I need some advice! First is it bad if I’m interested in having a lot of casual sex? I grew up repressed due to religion and internalized homophobia but now that I’m (mostly…) over that I really want to explore and have sex with a lot of different women (while staying safe of course) and I’m only 21 so I have time to it, I’m not really interested in a serious relationship anymore but I won’t reject anything if I like the person. My question is: how do I go about it? I’m going to back to college soon first time in person since I’ve been doing online classes, should I try to go to parties or something? Or should I just stick to clubs? One of my goals is to travel to a big foreign city and go to the clubs there…..but how to actually hook up w people? Or should I download tinder and try that? I haven’t had good experiences with dating apps in the past. My point is: I want to have fun, I want to get experience and I want to enjoy myself most of the time, but I also want to stay safe (no STDs) in the process. I’m planning on having a little bag to put like condoms in and like other sex stuff. (Not sure exactly tho, I’m thinking like vibrators, do I need lube (?) please help 😭 !

hi anon,

we've got a lot to parse through here, so let's just tackle these questions in order.

1.) no, that's fine. wanting to have sex is completely morally neutral.

2.) there's no surefire way to hook up with people; it depends a lot on what kind of interactions you're looking for, where you look, your personal tastes, and a lot of random chance and luck. parties and clubs are great if you like those, but another really easy way to meet people who you may like as friends as well as sexual partners is by just going to groups dedicated to your interests and getting to know people.

3.) the part where you actually hook up with someone only happens if you express to someone that you'd like to have sex with them. there aren't any cheat codes to learn, you just need to like. tell people you want to have sex with them.

4.) you can download tinder or any other dating apps you want, but that won't negate the part where you have to talk to people in order to have sex with them.

5.) if you want to have a lot of sex, I'd recommend getting STI testing done within 2-3 weeks after each new sexual partner in addition to talking to each person about their sexual history and whether they know if they might be transmitting anything.

6. carrying tools for safe sex is more important than carrying a vibrator (although there's no reason why you can't have both). condoms for penises and shared sex toys, dental dams for oral and eating ass, and gloves or finger cots for penetration with hands and fingers! (more on condom storage tips here.) and of course, tons of water-based lube!

#sex edventures 2023

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killmongerskeepermain · 1 year

Text

Her Heart // Chapter 2 // Shuri

Pairing: Shuri x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Violence // TW Kidnapping // Blood // Torture // Graphic

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4

The communication cut mid sentence and you fiddled with the bracelet before a curse slipped from your lips as nothing happened. "Fuck. Griot what happened?"

"Our communications are down. I am trying to reboot them now."

"All communications?" You questioned as the lights dimmed.

"Quickly." You said before a loud bang was heard throughout the palace. "Everyone find shelter now! Queen, Namora come with me." You led the two to a secret room behind a painting for the three of you to seek refuge for the time being. You put in the code and pulled the door open, ushering the two inside. When the door locked back in place you held your wrists up in the air.

"Griot, what's happening?" You asked and video footage appeared showing at least 6 men walking through the palace with guns and armor. "Who are they?"

"They look to be regular mercenaries." Namora stated and you shook your head. No. You knew what mercenaries looked like.

"These aren't just regular mercenaries. Where are we on those comms?" You asked with your back against the wall.

"They should be back online within the next few minutes." He responded and you prayed Shuri was on her way back. You can hold your own in a fight, but against 6 armed mercenaries and a pregnant queen under your protection, this could prove a problem. You held your head low as the queen rubbed her belly.

"Who do you think they are?" She asked and you shrugged. You honestly had no idea.

"I can't tell. Surely they're not from the states, they can barely tell when vibranium is just a trap to stop them from trying to steal it. They're not that bright." You replied as Griot announced the communications were back up. You quickly dial for Shuri who answered on the first ring. "Shuri."

"Where are you my love?" She asked and you sighed. It was good to hear her voice.

"In the safe room behind the Bast painting. There are mercenaries in the palace. I don't know who sent them or why they're here."

"Stay there. We'll come get you." She told you and you let out a sigh of relief.

"Okay. They're coming to get us." You told the two Talokan women who also had relief flash over their features. You couldn’t believe someone had infiltrated the palace. You leaned against the wall before Griot called out to you. "Ms. Y/N. The Royal Jet has landed."

“Good. Hopefully the intruders will see the black panther and make a break for it.” You said as you played with the ring on your finger. You couldn't stop the smile that appeared on your face as you heard the lock to the safe room click. The door slowly opened and Shuri walked in the room with dark eyes. You couldn't shake the feeling that you were in danger. It's Shuri. Why would you be in danger? Your smile faded as she approached you. Her curls fell over her eyes as she stood over you.

"Shuri-"

"Ms. Y/N. The panther is coming to you now." It was then you realized who you were talking to through your bracelet. That you were in danger.

"Hello my love."

// Royal Jet //

"So you really don't know who from Talokan would start a war?" Shuri questioned and Namor shook his head. He was just as worried as the princess. His queen was in the palace which is currently on lockdown. Shuri went to speak but Grio's voice cut into her conversation.

"Princess. The palace had been compromised." He said and Shuri's heart fell to her stomach.

"What of Y/N and the Queen?" She asked as the royal jet flew to the landing pad.

"In the safe room behind the painting." As soon as the jet landed Shuri activated her helmet and ran out of the ship with Okoye and Ayo close behind. Attuma and Namor quickly joined them in case their queen was in danger. Shuri ran all the way to the painting and came to an abrupt stop when she realized the door was ajar. Creeping up to the door she saw Namora lying on the floor unconscious. Namor was quick to run up to her, falling to his knees pulling her up off the floor.

"Namora. Can you hear me my child?" He asked softly and Shuri feared the worst. Namora was alone. Where were you? Are you hurt? Are you hiding? Where is the queen? Shuri ran to her lab and found her staff lying unconscious on the ground.

"Griot." The princess called out, trying not to assume the worst as she kneeled down to one of her staff members.

"It appears everyone is okay just rendered unconscious by a knockout gas. They should be waking up any minute now."

"Griot I need-" she stopped mid sentence trying not to let her emotions run wild and the AI system waited for her next instructions. "Do you have any footage from the last two hours? The entire palace."

"Yes princess. Allow me to pull the footage. Although I will warn you, it will be hard to watch." He said and Shuri's head perked up as the helmet came off. The footage pulled up on the screen and she watched as the arms group blew through the wall of the downstairs area. Another camera caught you opening the safe room door for the three of you to hide in. A third panel showed the intruders tossing cans of knockout gas into her lab. The scientists had no chance and fell to the floor one by one in coughing fits until everyone passed out. Someone walked into the lab searching for something. She couldn’t tell who she was looking at as they kept a hood over their head. They bent down to grab a kimoyo bracelet off of one of the scientists before making their way out into the hall. The next camera angle is what made her heart shatter.

She watched someone open the safe room door. No. Not someone. But herself. A doppelganger of some sorts. Okoye and Ayo silently entered the lab and watched on as their princess balled her fists. Two of the mercs tried to detain you but you were quicker and more nimble than they were. You easily knocked out the two assailants and she watched on as the fake Shuri walked up to you. By the look in your eyes you knew something was up. The two of you exchanged words before the fake Shuri quickly wrapped a hand around your throat and pinned you to the wall. You were quick on your feet and jumped to bring your legs around her neck and twisted your body until you fell out of her grasp. You pulled a dagger from your boot and went in for a fight. The fake dodged your blows perfectly landed a couple on your side but you didn’t falter. You fought till the end. That was just the kind of person you are. You went for a quick jab but was shocked when she grabbed your wrist stopping the blade as it was an inch from her throat. She pulled a syringe from her pocket and jabbed it into your neck. It didn't take long for your body to fall limp in her arms. Tossing you over her shoulder she tilted her head towards the queen and Namora before walking out of the safe room. Before leaving the frame, the fake looked up at the security camera with a smirk on her face as she walked away with Y/N. Her Y/N.

"That's enough Griot!" Okoye shouted and the AI cut the footage. She watched as her princess shoulder shook and she approached her slowly. "Shuri. We will find her. And we will bring her back home."

"I left her. She didn't want me to go and I left her." Shuri mumbled and Okoye put her hand on her shoulder.

"You couldn't have known this was going to be the outcome. We were all blindsided by this." She tried to reason but Shuri couldn't hear her over her heart beating through her ears. Everything just went silent. The only sounds she could hear was the beeping from her lab computers and the sound of her own heart. Hey eyes couldn’t stay focused on anything as she thought back to you fighting to protect yourself and the queen.

"It was a strategic play. To get the leaders away from their people." Ayo said and Namor entered the lab.

"Whoever they are, they also took my wife. They're both alive. But there's no way of telling for how long. Attuma is going to take Namora back to Talokan. I'm staying here to help bring them back." His voice was laced with a rage that Shuri knew all too well.

"We don't even know who they are! All I know is I saw myself on that security camera. Me! Another me! I don't know. It looked like me."

"A shape-shifter then?" Namor said and everyone looked at him. "Give it some thought. The Talokan warrior came to you with the threat of an attack. The Wakanda warrior came to us asking for Amera's presence here in the palace. What if it's the same person?" He questioned and everything started to make sense.

"Just like Y/N said it was a setup. We have to find them."

"Princess if I may?" Griot spoke out and Shuri nodded. "Y/N's kimoyo beads and earrings are still active. She also thought ahead and gave a bracelet to Queen Amera as a precaution." Shuri couldn't help the smile on her lips as she thanked Bast for your quick thinking.

"That's my girl. Griot see if you can pinpoint their location."

// Unknown Location //

Your eyes slowly fluttered open, everything was blurred as you tried to focus your vision. The annoying sound of water dripping was enough to cause your head to pound until a voice called out to you.

"Y/N. Y/N are you okay?" The voice was soft and full of concern as your vision finally cleared. You turned your head to see Queen Amera chained to the opposite wall. You moved to get to her but the chain around your wrist stopped you.

"Where the hell are we? Are you hurt?" You questioned and she sighed.

"Some rig in the middle of the ocean. They didn't inject me with anything as they done to you, but I was blindfolded on the way here." She told you and you bit your lip to think of a plan. If you could get the Queen into the water, she can swim away and notify Namor and Shuri. You'd have to buy time. "Y/N." She called out to you again, stopping your mental quarrel. The door up the stairs opened and you heard footsteps descending down the steps.

"You're awake. Good." You looked up to meet Shuri's brown eyes. Her curls sat on top of her head just as they did this morning. But no it couldn't be your Shuri. This was someone else.

"Who the hell are you?" You questioned and she chuckled.

"That's no way to talk to the princess." She said and you tensed. Two of the guards with her walked over to Amera as she scrambled back to the wall. "Make her talk. We need to know Talokan's exact location."

"Shouldn't you already know? Your highness." You spat and her eyes flickered over to where you were chained. She let her mask falter for a split second as her two henchmen stalked closer to you. She held up her hand and the two guards paused their approach before she slowly walked over to you. She reached for your wrists as her eyes scanned over the kimoyo beads.

"Let's see if these work, yeah? Call her." She smirked as you snatched your arm away. "I won't ask again." You couldn't help the frown that appeared on your face as she let out an irritated sigh. "Fine. Cut the baby out then kill the queen. Then Ms. Y/N."

Your body froze as they continued their advance to Amera would was trying her best to scramble away. "No please! Not my baby." They pinned her to the ground and you couldn't stay silent.

"No! No! Okay! Okay. Alright." You sighed and the two guards moved away from her. You raised your wrist before dialing Shuri and you kept your eyes on the fake.

"Y/N! Sthandwa are you okay?" The panicked princess questioned and before you could speak the fake Shuri cut you off.

"Princess! How nice to finally speak with you."

"Who are you? What do you want?" Shuri asked as Griot secretly traced the call. Okoye stood by the princess while Namor sat across the way.

"That isn't of importance right now. All you need to know is I need something from you. A couple of things actually." The fake said as you watched her every move. You couldn't show how scared you were. Not in front of her. "Starting with the data you have on the heart shaped herb. You actually recreated it after Stevens burned it to the ground. Fascinating."

"How do you know about that?" Shuri froze. Not knowing how someone would have access to that information.

"I have my ways. But can you do that for me?"

"You want me to help you? Have you lost your mind?" Shuri sneered and the fake kneeled down in front of you, pulling the other dagger out of your boot.

"Not lost. Simply reevaluated. Question for you Princess, do you know just how fast Y/N can heal herself?" Before you could answer she stabbed you in the side causing you to scream out as you fell on your back. "Oh come on I barely pricked you."

"Y/N!" Amera's voice called out to you as you felt your blood seep from the wound.

Shuri's body trembled as she listened to your pained groan. "Stop." It came out barely above a whimper. Unless you were right next to her, her plea wouldn't have been heard.

"Look, she's already healed herself!" The fake cheered as she grabbed your chin. "Good girl." She let go of you before standing to her full height. One that mirrored the princess.

"Princess Shuri, you have five hours to make your decision. Until then, Y/N and I are going to have a bit of fun." Shuri fell to her knees before the fake continued her speech. "As for you, K'uk'ulkan. Your wife could pop any second now. A mutant child from an underwater kingdom will go for a pretty penny. She should survive the birth. Maybe. Maybe not but who's keeping track?"

Namor stood at the mention of his wife while Shuri sat trying to think of the best way to handle this. Her brother would know. She's never felt as useless as she does now. You told her not to go. And she didn't listen. Now you're in danger with some clone of her putting you through all this pain. Her own voice reached her ears and it was as if it was the only thing she heard.

"I'll be hearing from you soon."

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sanlixzone · 1 year

Text

STRAY KIDS

Credit to writers

masterlist

OT8

Bath with skz

First couple shower

Sex with skz

They get hate and their s/o comforts them

S/o has a migraine and can’t sleep

They have a nightmare about you

They compare you to their ex

Reactions masterlist

First big fight + apologies

Stray Kids reacting to you being used to toxic behavior in your previous relationship

Fanfictions masterlist

You use the safe word

Valentine’s day

Aphrodisiac ( S )

How they express their love for you

Reaction to you being a pillow princess

Bleeding on your first time

Reactions masterlist

Makeup sex

Soft moments at 3am

When he scratches your back

Reactions / imagines masterlist

Timestamp masterlist

The morning after

Holding hands during sex

Hurt / comfort

Crying during sex

Post argument

Love language : acts of service

Masterlist

Making out

Heartwarming things they'd do while intimate

Asking them to buy you a vibrator for when they're away on tour

When you tell them you hate them during an argument

Love language and sex

Anger management

CHAN

6 AM ( F )

Bash ( S )

I won’t distract you ( S )

I’m setting off, but not without my muse ( F )

Seeking solace ( F, A )

Chan’s selfies ( F )

Baby steps series ( S )

Red canvas ( A, F )

Be honest with me ( A, F )

If you were mine and I was yours ( F )

Heartbeat ( F )

One more time ( S )

Mellow morning ( A, F )

Take away your pain ( F )

Fake text ( A, F )

Your ticket home ( F )

Subspace with Chan ( S )

A kiss to sooth your worries ( A, S, F )

2:33 am ( F )

9:36 pm ( F )

Just relax ( S )

Melatonin tears ( A, F )

Sleep ( F )

Push, pull ( A, S )

Tents and confessions ( F )

Bear hug ( F )

Fireplace ( S )

Holding hands during sex ( S )

7:30 pm ( A, F )

A good bad day ( S )

ways to say I love you ( F )

First time ( S )

Soft after a fight ( H/C )

Crying over you ( A )

Lie back love ( S )

Warmth ( F )

Roommates to lover ( S )

MINHO

Minho as your bf

Pillowtalk ( S, F )

Peach ( S )

Sweets ( S )

Inexperienced ( s )

Pine needles ( F, A )

1:43 am ( F, A )

Insecurities with minho ( F, A )

Show me off ( feat Hyunjin ) ( S )

Somnophilia kink ( S )

9:16 pm ( F )

Hugs and kisses ( F )

For you ( A )

Trust a feeling that stays ( S )

11:14 pm ( A/C )

Arguments ( A )

Bridges and storms ( S, F )

Edging ( S )

Corruption ( S )

5-4-3-2-1 ( F )

You love me though ( S, F )

Code name : brat ( S )

The silent lover ( H/C )

23:36 ( S )

Silent cry ( A, F )

Make a wish ( S, F )

Feeling over the edge ( S )

Lovely and sweet ( S )

Pick me up ( A, F )

Floaty ( S )

Pussy slapping ( S )

Angels in bodycons ( S )

Jealousy ( F )

Possessive ( S )

Actions speak louder than words ( A, F )

Better left unsaid ( A )

Just you ( F )

CHANGBIN

HYUNJIN

Show me off ( feat Minho ) ( S )

You’re trembling so much ( S )

This is me trying ( A, F )

HAN

Our morning ( S )

When they feel insecure ( Felix + Han )

Sunday mornings ( S )

Face sitting ( S )

FELIX

I'd give you the world ( A )

Exhale ( S )

Phone sex ( S )

NSFW alphabet

505 ( S )

I love you ( F )

Christmas shopping ( F )

Wanting cuddles while having online lecture ( F )

5:20 pm ( F )

Voice ( S )

Flour fairy ( F )

When they feel insecure ( Felix + Han )

Under the mistletoe ( F )

Vanilla kink ( S )

9:18 am ( F )

Truth or dare ( F, S )

Felix as ur bf

Flowers ( F, A )

5:58 pm ( A, F )

Counting for kisses ( S )

In pieces ( A/C )

First time hc ( S )

Constellations ( F )

Bath sex ( S )

Seven minutes

Daily texts ( F )

Dealing with depression ( F )

Spooning ( S )

NSFW a-z

1:49 am ( F )

Fake text ( A, F )

The small things ( F )

Jealousy jealousy ( F )

Movie night ( S )

Daisy ( S )

Overworked ( A, F )

Felix drabble ( A, F )

Hold me a little longer ( A, F )

F&MU ( S )

Happy ending massage ( S )

My girl ( S )

Overstimulation ( S )

01:09 pm ( F )

Roommates ( S )

Quiet lovemaking ( S )

Sweet taste ( S )

Brownies ( F )

Going public ( F )

Hair pulling ( S )

No nut november ( S )

Yellow pencil ( S )

Dandelions ( A, F )

Palm to palm ( F )

Pillow talk ( F )

That time of the month ( F )

Embraceable you ( S, F )

SEUNGMIN

Hard dom hc ( S )

Edge slut ( S )

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #in x reader

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prismaticfaery · 1 year

Text

Repose

This is kind of a Part Two to Sleepless.

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader (Peach)

Rating: T+, some swearing, unexpressed romantic feelings on both sides

**TW: Swearing, talks of teen pregnancy, human trafficking**

Sleep is hard to come by as when your head is swimming with so many thoughts, Ghost is there to listen, like always. When exhaustion begins to take over, there he is again.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this! I'm not too confident with posting my work online out of fear I'm not a good writer, so I hope it's not horrendous! ALSO, I will be opening Modern Warfare requests very shortly!

“Peach, move up,” the familiar gravelly voice of your Captain coming through on your earpiece.

“Rog,” you press the comms button on your device, pressing forward to get a better look at a cartel loading metal crates onto a yacht.

The heat swirling in the air was stifling, your brow covered in a sheen of sweat as you peaked through the scope of your rifle. Damn this ghillie suit. You didn’t quite understand your Captain and Lieutenant’s logic when they told you that you’d be the one gathering intel on the cartel while they stayed back in their ghillie suits, watching from a higher elevation in the mountains, watching you through their scopes.

“Small my ass. I may be smaller than them but I’m a Medical Sergeant, I’m important out on the field,” you huffed, crawling forward into taller grass, peaking through your scope once more to see four more cartel men with firearms, pressing your comms button, you quietly say: “four more, two on the stairs to the warehouse, two near the side entrance.”

Price and Ghost, who were on this intel mission with you, took out the two cartels at the entrance first, then shots whizzed past above you, and you watched as the two cartels fell dead on the stairs.

“Bravo 2-6, one cartel coming out of the yacht next to the warehouse,” you say to Gaz, who’s head suddenly appears out of the water next to the dock, alongside a group of five other divers who followed closely behind him.

Gaz pulls himself up onto the docks quietly, sneaking behind the cartel and taking him out with a knife. The five soldiers in his squad quietly emerge from the water, their firearms up as they begin a sweep of the yacht.

“Clear,” a soldier said in a whispered tone.

“I’m making my way down, Ghost and Peach, stay in your positions and keep watch,” Price spoke, the quiet rustling of his ghillie could be heard to the side of you as he descended the hills.

“Rog,” you and Ghost reply.

Price rendezvous with Gaz and the squad at the docks, then soon make their ways into the warehouse through the windows. Shots fired out inside the warehouse, and in the darkness, you could see bright flashes emanating from the windows. Yelling could be heard from the side, and your blood runs cold.

You had missed the cartels on your east side. Two of them.

“L.t., two to my right,” your breathing was erratic now as you melted yourself into the ground to keep yourself hidden.

“Stay still where you are, no sudden movements,” Ghost commands you, nervousness and fear filling his chest. “Let them break apart.”

The two cartels made their way toward the warehouse in a rush, cutting right in front of you where the hill was easier to descend on foot. As they ran, your breathing became more steady. You were somewhat safe now.

“Peach, I need you to take the one on the right out, I’ll take the left.”

Raising your rifle, you looked through the scope and followed the man to the right, raising your rifle until two and a half notches were reached. You squeeze the trigger, your rifle recoiling back a small amount. The bullet hit the man square in the head. A shot flies overhead, and Ghost’s target falls mere seconds after yours.

“Thank goodness for silencers,” you try to joke yourself out of your panic.

“Targets down, good shot Peach,” Ghost praises you, and your mouth heaves a heavy sigh.

“We’ve got the location on where they’re taking these crates, but it seems that’s not all. Peach, I need you to do medical evaluations on three teen girls— possible human trafficking,” Price’s voice is low and he lets out a sigh.

“Rog,” you answer.

The closest safe house was nearly 10 miles away right outside of Buenaventura. You were squeezed into the cab of a small truck with Ghost at the wheel, you in the middle, and Gaz on your other side. To say it was a tight squeeze was an understatement, with both men well over 6’ tall, even with ghillie suits, weapons, and tacticals taken off and lowered to keep any prying eyes off of you three. A single file line of trucks with the rest of the squad and three teenagers followed close behind.

Once reaching the safe house and checking if it was clear, Price had you go to work immediately, making sure that the three teenage girls were in good health. Setting up in a room where the girls could feel comfortable, you had asked them if they spoke English, to which none answered, instead exchanging bewildered looks between each other. You then ask them if they spoke Spanish, to which they nodded, all three remaining silent however.

Bringing each girl to the bathroom attached to the room, you ask routine questions.

How old are you? What’s your name? Where are you from? Any injuries? Anything concerning? Last menstrual period?

The last question took a girl by surprise, and she answered with: “No sé.”

Your heart dropped, quickly asking her to come out of the bathroom and lie flat on the bed. Your hands began to press into her abdomen, feeling around for her uterus. It was at her navel, you note in your head. The girl needed to see a doctor to confirm if this in fact was a pregnancy.

In broken Spanish, you ask her if she’s had any pregnancy symptoms like nausea, breast tenderness, etc., to which the girl replies with nausea— bad nausea, she reiterates. You nod, and tell her that the possibility of her being pregnant was high, and her face fell. One of the other girls attempts to comfort her, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and bringing her close in an embrace.

You poke your head through the door, and all of the eyes of your squad fall on you. Price walks over and asks for a sitrep. You slink through the crack of the door and shut it gently, sighing and letting your shoulders fall. Price sighs as well, “got bad news, hm?”

“One of the girls will need to see a doctor to confirm a pregnancy. Her fundal height is measured at her belly button and that indicates the possible pregnancy is about halfway gone. She’s only 16,” your eyes fell to the floor and your head was swimming with negative thoughts.

“We’ll be exfiltrated in 4-6 hours, I’ll see to it that the girl is brought to a doctor on base. Then we’ll search for the whereabouts of the parents or families,” Price grabs your shoulder, looking down at you with sympathetic eyes. “Don’t let this negatively affect your work, Peach.”

“Yes, sir,” you nod, keeping your head down as you beeline for your pack.

Ghost’s eyes follow you across the room, his body slightly slumped in his chair with his arms crossed, he mentally sighs. You had been on this squad for only a little while and your Lieutenant had noticed how hard you take some cases. After a few missions in the frigid cold of Siberia, and sharing a few nights of peaceful small talk at the base where books and book recommendations were exchanged, and eventually his gray fleece being returned, your relationship had turned into a friendly one, daresay nearly romantic. He knew that tonight, sleep would not be your friend. Thankfully, it was not his either— he would stay up with you.

Lights out had been about an hour ago, your eyes not closing even once for the sweet confines of sleep. Ghost was taking first watch, the tall male posted outside, rifle in hand and night vision on. You were staring at the ceiling while cocooned in your sleeping bag on the dusty and rotted wooden floors, listening to the fauna of the region, frogs especially. The three girls were asleep in the room where there were four twin beds, the squad stayed in the living area inside sleeping bags and on the two couches.

It was hard to breathe inside of the safe house with the heat and humidity, your baby hairs sticking to your forehead and temples, sweat permeating the collar of your shirt and back. Loud snores from a few of the men made you jump more than a few times, and although you envied their ability to sleep, you were glad that they were able to rest after doing their jobs well. Price and Gaz were in sleeping bags to the left of you, Ghost’s sleeping bag obviously unoccupied at the moment— not that he’d actually find sleep inside of it when his shift was over. It gave you comfort knowing he chose a spot next to you, after the two of you became closer, it became a norm that he’d stick close to you. The feelings that developed between the two of you were obvious to each other, but neither of you had acted upon it or spoke of it.

Grunting as you sat up in your sleeping bag, you unzipped it as quietly as you could, standing up and weaving through the maze of the squad members on the floor. Your white socks surely would not be very white after walking on these dusty floors. Opening the door to the front porch, you fit your body through the crack, closing the door behind you with a soft click. Ghost jumped at the sudden intrusion, his rifle fixed on you, his night vision goggles lowered in front of his eyes, making him look especially menacing.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell Peach, I could have shot you,” Ghost spoke up, lowering his rifle and clicking the safety on.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you were mumbling, your arms crossed across your chest as you felt a cold chill.

“Sit,” Ghost nodded to the chair to the side of him.

You sink into the seat next to your Lieutenant, a sniff escaping your nose, a stuffiness from the heat and humidity building. Ghost remains quiet, his head turned in the opposite direction of where you’re sitting, his night vision goggles still lowered to eyesight— ever cautious, he was.

“You alrigh’?” The heavy Manchester accent bleeding through more— he was probably running on fumes now.

“M’fine,” you reply, a lie nonetheless.

“Bullshit, Peach,” Ghost lifts his night vision goggles up on his helmet, placing the rifle horizontally on his lap.

“They’re just kids, sir,” the faintest amount of a break in your voice could be heard.

“Comes with the job, you know this,” he says matter-of-factly.

Deep hazel eyes met yours in the darkness, the only light being the full moon in the sky. Ghost was never the one to put emotion into his job— very by-the-book, he often was. Although with you, he was kinder with his words when it called for it, knowing that your job was to help people, and though you saw combat, you were not always on the front lines. You were not a seasoned sniper like him or Price— hell, you weren’t even half as good as Gaz, but you had still gone through almost as much as those three men have, being a Medical Sergeant, you were Special Operations like them.

Task Force 141 needed a medic, they could have chosen anyone, but they chose you, but you often wondered: why you? You were close to retiring, only having another year until your contract was up, you had gone through the hustle and bustle of graduating college and then being in the Army and then the Rangers. Now it was time for you to move on in life.

“I think I’m going to leave the military once my contract is up and go to medical school,” you break the silence.

“I wouldn’t blame you. You’d be a busy girl though, you think you can handle that?”

“If I can handle SFAS (Special Forces Assessment and Selection), I can handle medical school and residency,” you chuckle, bringing your knees up to your chest, and wrapping your arms around your legs.

Ghost made a noise, halfway between a grunt and a sigh, his legs stretching out in front of him, an audible pop in his knees made you wonder just how long he stayed in that position for. Reaching his arm out, he adjusted the knee guards that covered his camo cargo pants, he then sat straight up and focused on the tree line again.

“I shouldn’t have told you any of that, I’m sorry Ghost,” your mind was racing now, ruminating on why you had spilled your guts to your superior about wanting to be discharged and your plans for when you are.

“Whatever you need to say, I’m here to listen,” Ghost’s answer was short and to the point.

Ghost had a different way of showing he cared, and he often showed it in the ways he just simply listened. You noticed this whenever you would have long shifts in the infirmary, whenever you had a difficult task in front of you and you brainstormed out loud. He found it amusing sometimes, his eyes softening and his mouth curling in a slight smile as you paced and used the most random gesticulations with your hands and fingers while speaking.

The warm feelings he felt around you were not something he was used to and he knew exactly what it was after many nights of overthinking and restless sleep. It fucking terrified him. “Best to snuff this out,” he would tell himself on more than one occasion as he would attempt to fall asleep on his bed, the darkness covering his identity, his balaclava resting neatly on his bedside table. Now that he’s hearing you speak about leaving the military and the Task Force in a year’s time, he’s pondering the thought of never seeing you again. That terrified him even more.

Best to snuff this out.

A comfortable silence had fallen between the two of you— it was something that happened each time you two were together, but what Ghost hadn’t noticed for some time was that you had fallen asleep, the silent rise and fall of your back could be seen, your temple resting against your knees in your chair. The gray sweats you wore had become pantaloons in your position, your skin glowing in the light of the moon and stars and all Ghost could do was shake his head in disbelief, a soft sigh escaping his mask-covered mouth.

You had woken in your sleeping bag merely hours later, a soft glow from the sun beaming into the safe house, your head pounding from exhaustion and most likely dehydration as you stretched your legs out. Your entire team was beginning to stir, Price already up and sitting at the table, his comms going off in his ear about the exfiltration, his soft replies were hardly audible as he tried to have his team rest as much as possible.

Ghost was sorting through the packs and gear, making sure not to leave any trace behind of the team, his balaclava and skull mask covering his face, the black war paint was opaque, as if he had put a fresh coating on not long ago. He probably didn’t sleep and stayed on patrol the whole night, knowing him and his sleep troubles. You had known only a select few times where he had gotten a solid block of sleep back at the barracks on the Siberian base, his door would be locked and he wouldn’t come out for the entire evening usually. You could be wrong about the sleep part though, and maybe he just hid himself away. He had mentioned some time ago that he would get 2-3 hours a night if he were lucky and he would often doze off and wake up many times after.

Sitting up from your sleeping bag, you scoot back to the wall behind you, stifling a yawn and rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Sitting there for a moment, you watch as Ghost’s bulky form makes his way towards you on the ground, a canteen grasped in his hand, the skeletal design on his gloves becoming more detailed as he comes closer. He silently hands you the heavy canteen, leaving almost immediately, a brush of his gloved fingers against yours made the breath in your throat freeze.

The silence was broken when Price stood up, the chair legs scratching and screeching against the old wooden floor, “time to wake up, everyone, exfil is in two hours. Peach, get dressed, I need to see you.”

Taking a huge swig from the canteen before standing, you let out a harsh puff of air, placing the canteen between your elbows and ribs, raising to your feet with the palm of your other hand for leverage. You dig through your pack after you hand the canteen off to Gaz, who tiredly thanks you, giving you cheers in the air. Pulling out your cargo pants and pistol holster, you began to undress from your sweatpants, a pair of skin tight biking shorts underneath. Once fully dressed with your boots on, you made your way over to Price, who was checking off all of the kits and gear with Ghost.

“Peach, you and Ghost will not be accompanying the rest of us on this exfil, you lot will be returning to Siberia, there’s new intel on the Russians,” Price slams the armored crate in front of him shut, looking up at Ghost, who offers a silent nod as response. “Your exfil is in twenty minutes, you’ll drive three klicks out to a helo.”

“You ready for a long journey, L.t.?” You look up at the taller of the three of you, his darkened eyes meeting yours.

“Always.”

The three teen girls had woken up before you and Ghost had set out, the three coming out of the room together, the youngest of them offering a “thank you” in Spanish, and you replied back in the same language. She takes your hand in hers gingerly, looking into your eyes as her way of goodbye. The two other girls catch your eyes and you offer a quick nod of your head to them, smiles appearing on their faces.

The truck ride was silent as you’re sandwiched between Ghost and one of your squadmates, your hands clasped in your lap. Ghost’s larger and bulkier legs were more spread out, his leg brushing against yours, and at one point it had become completely plastered against you. It was dizzying knowing how close the two of you were in this moment, or maybe it was the fact that you still had a splitting headache. His eyes were staring out the window— always on patrol, it didn’t matter the situation. His gloved hands rested on his upper thighs, his fingers clenching occasionally at the meat. Was he uncomfortable? Was he nervous? You had no idea.

The helo was already in sight as the truck pulled up to the exfil point, landing slowly to the ground. Your squadmate parked the truck inside the thicket of trees and bushes before turning the engine off and quickly getting to work carrying gear and bulletproof crates on board. You carried yours and Ghost’s weapons cases to the helo, handing them over to Ghost who was already inside. Once the gear, crates, and cases were inside and strapped down, you and Ghost gave your squadmate a farewell as the blades of the helo whirred to life again, the co-pilot shutting the heavy door of the flying machine.

You and Ghost had opted to sit on the other side of the seats, away from the prying eyes of the pilot and co-pilot in the cockpit, strapping down and tightening the belts around your forms. Ghost gave a very audible sigh when he noticed your belts not tightened enough, leaning over and quickly adjusting the straps to be more taught against you, he then grabbed the two straps that were vertical against your shoulders, testing the tightness as if you were a small child in a car seat. Seemingly pleased with his work, he settled back into his seat, his head leaning back against the chair. You turned your head and smiled at him before copying him and leaning your head back.

It was nearly an hour of silence inside the helicopter, your head slightly tilted to the side occasionally looking out of the window at the world passing by below. You feel the exhaustion creeping up, your headache still gnawing away at your skull. Ghost had offered a canteen to you a few times after noticing your hand coming up to your head and wincing from the pains you were feeling. He told you to hydrate and drink as much as you could muster, that the canteen could be refilled at the next stop.

“I’m just tired. If I drink anymore, I’ll be doing a disservice by needing to pee desperately,” you hum, looking down at the metal floors before looking back up at him with an amused look.

“Then sleep, you have another few hours before landing to refuel,” Ghost’s head turns to watch as you place the canteen on the seat next to you.

“A helicopter isn’t exactly comfortable, Ghost.”

“Then lean your head on my arm,” he’s dead serious, his hazel eyes looking straight into your widened eyes now.

You hesitated at first, offering thanks to him as you slink into your seat a little, stretching your legs and crossing your ankles. You close your eyes and focus on the noises of the flight to help relax you into a nap. It becomes a white noise of sorts as your body becomes limp, the hands resting on your thighs unclenching, and soon one falls to your side.

Ghost takes notice of your suddenly relaxed position, your shoulder now leaning heavily into his arm, “Christ, that was quick,” he thinks to himself.

The pilot says into the headset to hold on as turbulence begins to rock the helicopter slightly, Ghost sliding his arm behind your shoulders to bring your sleeping form closer to his, your head now resting on the side of his chest, his fingers wrapped around your upper arm, squeezing the soft flesh to keep you firmly against him. His heart was beating like a hummingbird’s wings inside his chest, your head nudging into him as you got more comfortable.

You must not have been fully asleep for a moment as your hand brushed against the top of the man’s thigh, then soon flipping it over to rest opened. His gloved hand hesitates, clenching and unclenching against his right thigh, before he finally reaches over to grab your hand, lacing his fingers inside yours.

I can’t snuff this out.

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