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cookinguptales · 5 months

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I'll probably talk about the SNM NYE party in batches because I'm still exhausted but... wow, that Hecate 1:1, huh?

I didn't actually know that audience interactions were going to be a thing during the party, so imagine my surprise when about 30 seconds after I took the first photo, the second thing happened lmao.

(nearly had an aneurysm when my friend texted me that they'd managed to get pictures of the encounter haha)

spoilers under a cut!!

So there was an angel dancing in the rep bar, which... I hilariously did not notice for the first portion of the song. I was taking photos for a large group of people who were sitting up on the bar in front of the neon sign, and then I turned around and was like !!!! oh!!!

(ETA: I AM TOLD THIS WAS BOY WITCH IN COSTUME FOR THE PARTY lmao)

I nearly banged into the poor guy haha. but then, I mean, I had to take some photos of his dance! it was a lovely dance, very soulful. when he noticed me taking photos, he definitely started posing, good for him. I got some really good photos of him here.

anyway, after I got my pictures, then he comes up to me and takes my hand and it's like oh!!! okay we're doing this.

he was holding several rings in his hand during his dance (big costume jewelry types) so the obvious allusion was to Hecate. while he was dancing with me, there was a lot of elaborate stuff where he'd show me the rings in his hands, play with them, offer them to me, take them back, take my hand and spin around so I was holding him, then curl around behind me, etc.

he was really gentle with me, RIP ;;

anyway, he ends up taking my hand and leading me to Hecate's door. now, I saw Hecate a few times throughout the evening, mostly carrying around a sign in a stately procession letting people know how long it was until midnight, but I didn't realize she was doing Other Things until we got outside her door and I was like "wait okay I get it" lmao

at this point, I still wasn't sure exactly where he was going with this, so I just followed him as he finally knelt down before Hecate's door and offered up the rings in supplication.

then her door opened and she appeared and I think you could probably see the big exclamation point over my head like I was a freaking video game character.

then she grabbed me and pulled me inside.

the vibes were very similar to her usual James & Anne 1:1, and she brought me over to sit on her couch. but instead of paper boats and ghost stories, she brought out tarot cards.

(if you know me, you know I was thrilled lmao)

she has me choose one and it was, of course, Death.

(I... think they were probably all Death, and I know she had to keep them to do this with others but I wish I'd gotten to keep that card.)

Death, as my regular followers know, is a card about change and the death of the old to make room for the new. so as soon as I saw it, I knew, and I just. man, the Emotions In Me.

she told me about how the card was about change and how old things had to die so new things can happen, even if it hurts. she said it was the new year, which is a time for the old things to die and new ones to come. that things would be changing soon, but that was okay. she then took my palm and drew a straight line on it, like a palmistry situation, and said that people think time is a straight line. then she drew a circle and told me that time here, in this place, is really like a circle.

I can't remember all exact words, but the general gist of it was that even though things die and new things take their place, they don't ever fully go away. time is a loop, as it always has been in the McKittrick, so these moments will always be happening, even if we don't get to experience them anymore.

(we'll always remember them.)

then when we got up to leave, she turned me toward the mirror on her nightstand and had me look at my own reflection. she held me from behind, encircled in her arms, and squeezed me so tight that it almost hurt.

(I wish I could remember what she said during this moment, but I'll admit I was having a "this could actually be kind of bad if she squeezes much longer, she doesn't know I have EDS and I can feel my ribs straining" moment so I got a little distracted. she didn't hurt me!! to be clear!! but I was worrying a little that I might have to interrupt her and in so doing failed to live in the moment and it was gone. I'm hoping I'll remember after I've recovered a little. ;; )

I feel like... it was encouraging, what she said at the mirror. so I suppose for now I'll have to content myself with that.

and then, once she let go, she took one of the rings from a dish on her table and slid it onto my finger.

I guess we all know what that means.

and then she let me go.

I felt... really profoundly moved after this. the time loop element of SNM is one that I've always been obsessed with, and so to have all of that laid out so explicitly... it made me feel like there really is a sacred, magical place in that room, and none of us will ever truly escape it.

Hecate has a habit of snatching humans and drawing them into her woods, like Porter and Boy Witch, and I feel like she really managed to do that to all of us as well. we're under her spell and, like them, we must constantly search for her ring.

last night, I sort of felt like I finally found it. like her ring has always been the loop all along, and that's the source of her power. the ring of time, a wheel, and it constantly spins in place. we're all inside it, and it could be a trap but it feels so damn exhilarating to be there.

our poor Porter will never truly find it because he's inside it, and so are we. the entire hotel is her ring and so are all the ideas and experiences inside it. and they are eternal. even if the show itself closes, that little pocket of time will always exist within us, because that's where her magic resides.

it made me think a lot about love and memories and the way that our experiences live on in them, changed by nostalgia and regret but dear all the same, and it made me think about how Sleep No More, or at least a version of it, will live on in us forever.

change is coming, and it might hurt. but new things are coming, and they'll be lovely. we have so many things lying ahead. and what we experienced together in that hotel will never go away. it'll continue on in our memories and the art we've made and the friends we've met, y'know?

so it felt like such a beautiful way to end the year. the whole thing happened just before midnight and it felt perfect.

(even though... there were a lot of elevator issues last night and I only BARELY made it downstairs in time for the countdown. so there was a moment of Panic right after haha.)

but Hecate kissed my forehead just before midnight and that sort of feels like the best kiss you could get on the new year at the McKittrick. I didn't even realize I still had the lip prints on my forehead until I looked at the photo I took just after the confetti was released.

(not the best selfie in the world, admittedly, because I could not see anything with the lighting in there but like! still! the happiness is palpable.)

so... that was my experience with Hecate, and it's one that was comforting in a way that's hard to entirely convey.

I feel like... I'm definitely going to write a story about this...

#sleep no more #hecate did not injure me but admittedly the elevator situation did #I haven't been in this much pain in a long long time #and I think I was a little loopy with it by the end of the night lmao

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paradiecircus · 11 months

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~This one is called “2” and it’s another messy one! Obviously, since it’s based off the song 2 by H.E.R. Been having some fun with Bamon lately and I thought it would be funny if Bonnie was found to be a little out of character when Jeremy cheated on her with a GHOST of girlfriend’s past/passed! Of course she and Jeremy aren’t together at this point but this is the moment the Bamon scandal begins, the night after he THOUGHT he kissed Elena. I won’t spoil what’s going on here but reblog if you wanna know what happens next or if you love Bamon! Enjoy this snippet that picks up at the beginning of season 2, thanks!!!~

. . . . . .

Bonnie was about to lose her mind. Friday night, after a long day, and here she was with Damon Salvatore of all people. All he was doing was complaining about how Elena was in denial over her feelings for him and there was no convincing him that maybe she just loved Stefan so fully, she had no eyes for anyone else.

There was no point in telling him that Elena was human, sometimes she did have intrusive thoughts regarding Damon. It would only exacerbate his mission to prove he was the better man for her. How could he know that? He only saw how happy she was with Stefan and wanted that for himself. He couldn’t possibly be sure she’d be happy with him, considering she couldn’t stand him. Stefan made Elena happy during the darkest time in her life. Would kind of best friend would she be if she helped Damon crush that over his fixation that was borderline obsessive? And quite frankly, creepy.

Besides, Bonnie knew Elena, she’d never kiss him. If that actually happened her and Caroline would have already called an emergency girls only meeting. They told each other EVERYTHING.

“Then who’d I kiss, Bonnie?” Damon asked, sitting on the couch adjacent to her. “Those sad, brown eyes, looking up at me. The way she just thinks about all the ways she’s gonna try to let me down easy. That’s how she was looking at me. I couldn’t help it, I had to show her how I feel. I know I’m no good but for her… I love her,”

She threw her hands up. “I don’t know, maybe you were-”

“And don’t say I was drunk, I didn’t hit the bourbon until AFTER she pretended that she never let me put my lips on her,”

Bonnie stood up, exasperated. “You know what? I need a drink,”

“Now you’re thinking, Bennett,” he clicked his tongue and shot a finger gun at her.

If I had just let him burn, she thought, I wouldn’t be neck deep in this pointless debate. Like she told Stefan, it was only because Elena loved him. And Stefan could never truly hate his brother. Big of him because if Bonnie had a vampire sister who kissed her man, she’d have aneurysms until graduation. That was still a year away.

She went to the fridge to grab a beer. “Maybe, you’re just doing a little too much thinking lately. Stop mulling it over. Just look at the facts,” she listed them as she came back to the living room. “Elena is dating Stefan. Elena LOVES Stefan and she would never cheat on him, especially knowing how Katherine manipulated you both,” she grabbed his hand. “It’s time to start getting over them, Damon. Both of them,” he looked down at their clasped hands and cocked an eyebrow.

Bonnie released his hand and realized she forgot the bottle opener. “Damn, forgot the-”

She stood up again when Damon grabbed her arm suddenly. “Let me help you with that,”

Instead of getting up and heading towards the kitchen, he sunk to his knees before Bonnie, who frowned at him. “Uh, Damon? The kitchen ain’t down there,”

He ran his hands up the side of her jeans, pressing his palms into her ass, then moving towards her zipper.

“I’ll give you something better than a cold beer. Something hot,” he unbuttoned her jeans and pulled the zipper down.

Out of sheer panic and genuine shock, Bonnie conjured an aneurysm. Only nothing happened!

“Are you trying to burst the blood vessels in my brain? Tsk, tsk, Bonnie, I’m just trying to take your advice and get over Face 1 and Face 2,” he slowly slid the pair down her legs.

“But… I thought you said you loved her,” Bonnie didn’t understand why she was letting him take her pants off, much less why she was willingly stepping out of them for him. It made even less sense that he was guiding her to lie on her back on the sofa while he pulled off her underwear. And she didn’t stop him!

“Shh… no more talk about them. Focus on right here, right now,” he looked into her eyes and his pupils widened. He pushed her legs open.

He must have been compelling her! That didn’t make it okay for him to seduce her! “Damon I don’t think we should- ahh… oh! Mmmm,”

“Can I keep going?” He asked after he’d swiped his tongue right down her… RIGHT THERE! He’d licked her RIGHT THERE and now her body craved more.

“Yes!”

He resumed what he was doing until her back was arching up off the couch, her thighs were trembling, and she couldn’t stop crying out in pure ecstasy if she wanted to. Her peak of pleasure was so impactful that it activated her magic again, bursting every lightbulb in the house.

Damon smacked his lips as he pulled away. “Mm, tasty. You’re right, I feel much better now,” he smacked her bottom and stood up. “Well, the mediocre people of Mystic Falls are safe for the night. Thanks to you, Witchy,”

She was still gasping. “G- glad I could… help… ohmm…”

“See ya,” he whistled as he left.

“Ohhhh, Damon, you BETTER not kill anyone,” she murmured as she laid there in the dark. With a wave of her hand, she magically lit the candles on the fireplace mantle.

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ellowynbeimler · 5 months

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Dec 21

Dear Dad,

Despite the fact that I've barely been able to help or do anything more than sit around, one of the priestesses at the temple must have felt bad for me because she let me do some of the dusting that needs doing.

So the temple is pretty small, apparently tiny from what I understand, so most of the alters and stuff are in rooms about the size of broom closets with little doors that close behind people. Some of the closets, as a result, are not opened for months, so they get pretty dusty.

So, I got to go around on the topmost floor, which is mainly filled with gods and goddesses of the sky and light, and are also up like 8 flights of stairs, and dust everything so the alters would be clean for the festivities.

The priestess I talked to said that this festival was one of the few nearly universally practiced. It's pretty similar across the continent.

The first evening will be mostly people drinking, dancing, and festivalling through the night, eating various festival foods, and then, in the darkest depth of the night, watching the play about the origin of the world and deities. From there, the little ones are put to bed, and there's even more festivaling and people leaving offerings on the various alters. Most will be left on the altar of the patron god of this city, but people hoping for specific things, love, success, etc., will leave their sacrifices on the alters of the deities who are most likely to provide for them.

I don't know if there's a god of portals, but I've got a couple days to look for them and see if they'll help us.

The second day is all about the different other gods. Then more festivities and sacrifices. Then, the third day is about this area, the fourth is about whatever god is the patron here, and the fifth and final night is about the temple and city itself. Then, more festivities, with the morning of the fifth day all about praying to the gods and resting.

Then, clean up for however long that takes. So that's going to be pretty neat. I mean, I'm not going to drink, so I'll probably have a harder time sleeping those nights, but I doubt anyone will bother me if I want to sleep in.

So there I was, making sure that I was carefully dusting everything because just because I don't really believe in these gods doesn't mean I'm going to risk messing up the alters. When I found Zunair in one of the somewhat cleaner ones.

I wasn't expecting him, mostly cause I thought he was over at the bard hall or working a corner or something.

I think I startled him as much as he startled me because we both jumped, and he yelled at me a little. He had his instrument, a small stack of papers, and what I'm pretty sure was my spare pen.

I asked him what he was doing there, and he said he was trying to come up with a new song. He thought it might be a good thing to give up, a sacrifice. I asked him if he thought a sacrifice would help us get home, and he said it couldn't hurt for us to try. We'd seen some weird, amazing, really out-there stuff, and we knew someone was magically healing people. It seemed related to the temples, so maybe it was gods or other beings like gods. Maybe they'd answer our prayers even though there were sure to be so many other people praying.

I hid myself away with him in the room. Zunair's obsession with music wasn't something I hadn't heard from him or for him before, and I was curious. I asked him about it, and I figured it would be something he was just picking up, something passing like the magic for me, something to do here that could make a little money if he was half decent at it.

Zunair told me about his mom. His mother used to play and sing to him when he was little, and Zunair wanted to learn to play, too. He told me about her incredible singing voice and how she'd bring any room alive with music. He'd learned how to play a little bit from here while growing up, but when he tried to pick up her guitar after she passed, he thought his father was going to have an aneurysm.

He didn't, and Zunair hadn't tried again. The pain of that interaction, the memory of his mom playing, had been too much for a long time.

But here, he missed his mom, and this was something he could do to remember her that wasn't hurting anyone and wouldn't make his dad cry.

And here, and now, where he wasn't home, and he still missed his mom, and where he wasn't home and just had to be here, more or less alone with the pain he felt and the loneliness, he could try it again. So he was.

It makes sense to me now why the other Bard Hall let him in so easily then and why he was putting so much of himself and his focus into it now. He needs something to focus on, just like I did, do. His just happens to be music.

I hugged him and told him I'd help cover with the others if he wanted help at the apartment. It's nice for him to do, and he has been getting a lot better.

I dusted around him and left him to keep working on the song. I'm sure it'll be something. I can't say good. I really don't think it will be, but it'll be from the heart, and I think that'll make it good enough.

And maybe the gods will appreciate something new and made from the heart.

Thankfully, there weren't any other surprises while dusting. But it was still so exhausting that I napped for a little while, waiting for Riley to finish whatever her tasks for the day were.

Reese gave me a piggyback on the way to the apartment, which is probably for the best because I'm not sure I would have been able to make my way up the stairs. There aren't many, but it would have been too many for me.

This weakness is just the worst.

I hate it.

I don't think much else worth talking about happened. Grace helped clean up the pools on the bottom floor of the temple, and Zunair told me he was much closer to being done with his song, which is also great.

Overall, it was a good day, and I got to hang out with Zunair and get to know him a little better, which was a surprise and a pleasant one at that.

Good night, Dad. I hope you're sleeping okay and that you haven't had to spend too much of the time I've been gone on cases. Or maybe you have, so you're not too worried about me.

Love, Jack

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crazy56u · 1 year

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Well, it's been three weeks, and apparently it's now a straight shot to the season finale with no breaks in sight, let's go.

Last time on Quantum Leap, Ian caused the plot. Meanwhile, in Hell's Kitchen...

I never had Indian food, I've always wanted to try it.

"You've gotta stop eating the merchandise." Out of context, that's a drug dealer line.

Okay, so that memorial Ben passed was the dad, I had a hunch.

I choose to believe Ian was staring at that drawing for all three weeks.

"Did you leap?" Well, not yet, Magic, catch the fuck up.

Also, I'm pretty fucking sure Ian leaping occurs in the season finale.

"Not you you, just future you." Distinction without a difference.

Meanwhile, Ben's back in the same fucking alley from the 1980s.

OH fuck, why is Ben in 2009...

The editor is having epilepsy.

I love the implication that Addison just knew that off the top of her head, and she didn't need Ziggy for it.

"HEY RANDOM PERSON TALKING TO THEMSELVES, IT'S MUGGING TIME!"

Ah. A landlord. Starting to piece together why the building burned down.

"Look, you want your money, I don't wanna be choked, life's shit for everyone."

Addison, he's clearly fucking lying, keep up.

"This is your last chance. We both know there's a good chance I'm the one who causes the building to catch fire. I ain't fucking around."

...okay, is that foreshadowing that Ben's about to cause this mom's heart attack as well?

"What's all this?" A giant iPad, obviously.

Look, Ian, I get it, you're stressed out about causing the show to happen in the future, but take a breath.

"No one here believes you're a risk. Janis is more of a threat than you, and we still have her locked in the broom closet!"

"We owe $30,000, just get an extension, you're acting like she tried to murder you in the alley!"

"Web-sheb". Not entirely convinced that wasn't supposed to be "web shit".

Oh God, that beast of a computer...

Why is this turning into the plot of Ratatouille?

"They were going to see the pyramids this year." Calling it now, that was supposed to be the episode, but budget cuts happened.

Ben Song: Can handle space, but not family trauma.

Corpse or Sleep?

Sleep.

Bro wants to ditch work to grab sick kicks, right as the mom is experiencing carpal tunnel.

Okay, this really is Hell's Kitchen if all of these conflicts are snowballing into one clump...

I hope "Dimpy" is actually a nickname, but chances are it's not.

Okay, so, let's total it up: Massive debt, stuck on the past, lingering presence of dead father, baby mama drama, skipping work for new shoes, nerve damage, and pride above all else. And a fire as the bow on top.

200 people in 2009, that's basically the end of days.

Someone's about to get slapped.

"See, this is how you react, being upset that I said your dreams are bullshit!"

[This is the most fucking ominous commercial for Airbnb...]

I was so distracted by Ian's sick tattoos, I failed to realize Ian got a subplot this week.

[As a sidenote, my stance is that people are only complaining about the Project subplots because the show is stuck to 42 minutes a pop; not nearly as many people would be complaining if the episodes were a few minutes longer. The Project subplots aren't bad, the episodes are just compact.]

"Didn't you just call me useless?" "Stop focusing on the past!" "Kinda difficult for that!"

"What else you can do to save a restaurant other than bring in new customers?" ...burn it down the the insurance money is my immediate answer, but I don't think that applies this time...

[I was busy blowing my nose, I missed all of Ben's phone call.]

The mom's impatience going to fucking be the death of her.

"Only in America" will wear itself out pretty fucking quick, ma'am. Trust me...

Annnnnnd the heart attack.

...why am I not surprised Ian was a "Pretty Little Liars" fan?

Is it just me, or does she look like Mila Kunis?

And the mom is still on the floor...

And Ben now has PTSD...

"Your mom had an aneurysm. She didn't. Get the fucking first aid kit."

Okay, I have to side with the mom on this one about the world being harsh, but only because she's in 2009, and I'm in 2023, and I know how bad it gets.

Okay, so now it's 300 people, now it's the end times.

Meanwhile in Oregon, I guess...

They're having out at a pizza place, this episode is clearly inspired by Pizza Tower.

The American Dream = Greasy cheese pizza.

Look, to be fair, spicy food has caused lawsuits. Google "Doritos Roulette".

...okay, calling it now, the landlord got impatient.

Can't tell if CGI or actual explosion...

"2% is low, but not zero." Quantum Leap is an educational show.

AND I'm pretty sure I was right about the landlord.

"Just because we don't have a restaurant doesn't mean we don't have a restaurant!"

Ben's about to invent the pop up restaurant.

[Firefox is lagging the fuck out right now.]

I wonder how much money they spent renting out this location, because 100% not a set...

"Everything you do, you do for a good reason." There, you see, Ian's justified in causing the show to happen.

This looks like a wedding reception.

"I tracked down a few weddings-" CALLED IT

All it took for her to let people in was the landlord being a bitch.

"And so a child will lead them", quite literally.

[Seriously, Firefox is taking a minute to finish adding the sentence I typed in 20 seconds.]

All of this sick ass food is making me regret having pasta alfredo for dinner.

"We'll be serving family style." Mic drop.

I swear to God if the landlord is holding up the investor...

"Ironically, he has food poisoning..." That doesn't negate my guess...

Did they just invent Patreon in 2009?

And the landlord is SEETHING off in the distance.

YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT, FUCK YOU KATHY! GO DOWN IN FLAMES LIKE AL CAPONE!

"You two don't need me." Okay, is it bad that I thought she'd immediately have a heart attack then and there?

[It's down to the wire, Firefox is on its last legs...]

And Ben's reward for saying "I love you, Mom"? Playing Battleship with Brandon Routh.

Holy shit, that boat CGI was bad...

[Also, why do I get the suspicion the plot of next week's episode involves preventing World War III?]

Well, I managed to finish the liveblog, in spite of Firefox slowly dying!

Burn in Hell, Kathy.

#quantum leap #family style #spoilers #pizza tower #hell's kitchen #next episode promo #battleship

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

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could u please do like a harry x youtuber/influencer!reader and like lots of fluff🥺

Hi bubbie! Here you go :)))

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Language

Harry was panicking. His mum and sister were going to be here in less than two hours and he’s burnt the eggplant parmigiana he had worked tediously on.

He grabbed what he had left in his fridge - ground beef, shredded cheddar cheese, and a little bit of bacon.

It was the type of foods he usually strayed away from so sometimes when his shopper would bring this stuff home - he’d avoid it and admittedly sometimes it would go bad sitting in the fridge.

The singer pulls up YouTube onto his phone - hoping something would come up when he typed in the ingredients on the search bar.

He clicks on the first video by cookingwithnofucks. A chuckle at the name as an advertisement plays.

A cute, bubbly girl appears on screen in a beautiful modern kitchen. She has a shirt on that says ‘fuck the patriarchy and eat pizza’. A high ponytail and minimal makeup.

“Okay - today we’re making a cheeseburger casserole,” the girl chirps, “It’s a heart attack in a dish but it’s so fucking good.”

Harry finds himself smiling as he crinkles his nose - it sounds absolutely disgusting but he’s intrigued more by the girl on the screen.

“Shit, I forgot to introduce myself. Hiii, if you’re new - I’m Y/N and I do cooking shit. Subscribe to my channel and all that jazz,” she titters while cutting open her beef package.

Harry follows along step-by-step, shaking his head as she doesn’t describe the instructions nearly well enough and is generally all over the place.

It’s a fucking cooking channel and at one point the meat starts burning. She just laughs and says, “s’just a little crispy!”

The casserole turns out looking even better than Y/N’s to be honest. It’s done in just the right amount of time for him to shower before his family arrives.

He makes sure to subscribe to her channel - eyebrows raising when he sees that she has 16 million subscribers.

Harry wanted to spend longer, looking at her social media but there was a fixed time so he locked his phone and went to get ready.

Anne - always the sweetheart just tells Harry that the casserole is delicious even as a bit of grease runs down her fork from the fatty meats.

Gemma wasn’t as kind, grimacing at the casserole and remarking, “You truly are turning into an American, huh?”

Laying in bed that night, Harry swipes back onto YouTube. Going back to the page he just subscribed to - under a pseudonym. He clicks on another video.

“Uh, okay. So I’m cooking...fuck, it’s called unicorn bark. It looks like a magical animal puke but it looks delicious so we’re going to try it.”

Harry realizes he’s been watching this girl cook for nearly an hour. Different videos from desserts to dinners.

She curses like a sailor, fucks up almost every recipe, and makes a mess everywhere. But she’s smiling and talkative which makes him quite memorized by her.

“I hate editing,” Y/N groans, letting her head fall dramatically against the desktop. Her best friend and dog looked at her oddly.

“I keep saying you need to hire someone, you stubborn bitch,” Laney retorts, clicking through her Instagram feed.

“Fuck off,” she tells her friend with no real heat. The video was almost fully edited - how to make spicy as fuck jalapeño poppers.

There is a calm silence for a while until Laney gasps, “Holy shit.”

“What is it?” Y/N asks, not really caring as she clicks her mouse to trim a segment.

“Harry fucking Styles just followed you on Instagram and Twitter!” Laney shouts, her dog - Rufus popping his head up in confusion.

Y/N looks at her friend to see if she’s really serious and sees no signs of deception. “Oh my god,” Y/N replies. She loved Harry Styles in One Direction and as a solo artist - a fangirl if you will.

Y/N was a well-known influencer and has run in the circles of many celebrities. She’s even met Liam Payne but she’s never been able to bump into Harry.

Her alerts tell her it to be true, she swallows as she looks back up at Laney, “He dm’ed me.”

“Open it! What did he say?” She squeals, squeezing herself on the chair next to her, peering over her shoulder at the phone.

Y/N is a bit nervous, trying not to have a mini aneurysm as she opens the message thread.

HarryStyles: Hello. Just wanted to let you know that your cheeseburger casserole recipe saved my ass last night. Cheers x

“He’s totally coming onto you,” Her friend states instantly, bouncing excitedly - she also had a bit of a crush on the singer.

It takes the two of them a minute to cool their shit before Y/N manages a reply.

Y/N/LN: Well I guess it’s only fair. Your songs have made a few of my nights much better. I’m a bit of a slut for Fine Line.

Harry laughs behind his screen at the cheeky reply he gets back. He’s usually never this forward - especially on social media where he likes to fly under the radar.

HarryStyles: Well if you fancy my music that much, I totally love for you to come to a show. I’m performing in New York City in two weeks.

“This has to be a joke, right?” Y/N sputters to her friend, eyes wide at the invite to a concert she already had tickets to.

Y/N/LN: I’m not going to lie, I already have tickets to the show. However, I don’t have any backstage passes to meet the man of the hour. Do you know someone who can hook me up?

It does wonders for Harry’s narcissism to know that she already had tickets for his concert. Was he really going to do this? He hasn’t met up with some like this since his One Direction days.

He had to remind himself - she may just be friendly and take this as a totally casual interaction. Which would be normal, Harry really shouldn’t be so infatuated with someone he’s watched cook on social media.

HarryStyles: I think I can arrange that. Shoot me your number? I’ll have them sent digitally to you with instructions on how to get backstage.

Y/N is a bit dumbfounded at how fast they agreed to meet up. A harmless backstage tour - he could just be a fan of hers and totally not interested, right?

Over the next few weeks, they never really stop texting. Harry sends her pictures of the recipes he copies off her channel - that usually always look better than the original. He sends her clips of him goofing around during tour rehearsal. FaceTimes her when he’s finally home for the night.

She sends him videos of her watching Harry Styles Best Moment Part Five. A few photos she snaps throughout the city of him on billboards and buildings, in Times Square. YN facetimes him when she’s frustrated with filming or watched a sad movie.

It didn’t make sense to either of them how seamlessly they’d clicked - especially without meeting. They were a perfect balance for each other. Harry - laidback, organized, level-headed. Y/N - eccentric, all over the place, adventurous.

Jeff had told him that he’s been gaining media attention from his social media interactions with Y/N. They like each other’s photos, begin following each other’s friends, and comment goofy things on their posts.

“Listen, I have a great idea,” Y/N begins - which Harry learned is never good. “You should film a video with me sometime.”

Y/N knew she was going out on a limb and instantly regretted the questions she’d been building the courage to ask for days when it’s quiet on his end. There’s static for a moment and Y/N needs to fill the silence.

“It was - I was just, uh, I know you’re probably too busy. I was -“ She stutters, embarrassment flooding her.

Harry cuts her off, “I’d love to.”

“Yo-you would?” She asks timidly. Was she really going to have Harry Styles in her apartment? If so, should she take down her poster?

He laughs sweetly, “Why do you sound so surprised? I can’t wait to come to New York, love.”

Y/N giggles, “Not the fact that you’re performing in front of a sold out crowd at MSG? I don’t think seeing me will top that.”

“I’ve been looking forward to meetin’ you in person since I came across your channel. You so lovely,” Harry replies, his voice a little softer but more serious.

“I’m nervous,” Y/N admits, picking at a thread in her jeans.

“Me too,” Harry murmurs, despite not wanting to admit it - he wanted her to know this was new territory for both of them. He didn’t want her to think that this was something that he did often. But a little too prideful to admit it’s the first time he’s ever done something quite like this.

“What if you don’t like me?” Y/N whispers, she...well she didn’t compare to the models he’s been seen with before. She’s regretfully fell into the rabbit hole of looking up his past flings and relationships.

Harry barks out a disbelieving laugh, “You can’t be serious, darling. I’ve been gone for you since I saw you burn that ground beef.”

Harry was having a bad day - scratch that. An awful one. He tried to go get coffee at eight in the morning and got bombarded by fans, he left the shop without even ordering. They followed him back to his car and it took him fifteen minutes to pull out.

His favorite Mickey Mouse Gucci suitcase he was bringing along on tour had busted. The zipper unraveling and the trim falling off as a result. It was a one-of-a-kind.

Then he’d been stuck on a Skype meeting about tour merchandise with a group of business partners for the last three hours - all he wanted was a fucking nap.

When Y/N’s contact vibrated across his screen, he’s itching to answer but declines as he needs to give these people his attention.

When she calls again, Harry feels a prickle of annoyance. It’s not even at her - to be quite honest. It’s just the shitty day and everything’s piling up.

He always got like this before he kicked off a tour - stress level maxed out and his ability to handle minor incidents nearly shot.

I’m busy

Okay! Sorry, just have a super exciting surprise for you, bub!

I really do not feeling like talking. I’d rather be left alone.

Oh, alright. Hope everything’s okay! Do you still want to facetime later?

Harry leaves her on read because he doesn’t want to slip up and take out his frustration on her. He’d been known to do that and he didn’t want her to think he was anything but besotted with her.

Y/N feels a little hesitant as she begins the uploading process to her channel. The red loading bar told her it’d be twenty-minutes before it’s going to be posted to her 16 million subscribers - one of them being Harry himself.

Twenty-minutes for her to back out and cancel the upload. She starts having doubts about it when Harry never replies to her text which is unlike him.

She takes Rufus out to avoid staring at the loading screen with unnecessary anxiety and uneasiness.

Harry is just getting home from a business dinner with the touring company’s management team. The tension and anxiety from today piling up on his shoulders and he just wants to call Y/N and crash in bed.

He tosses his keys in the little bowl in the entry and kicks off his dingy white vans to the side. His phone dings with an alert from Gemma.

You two are the literal cutest ever. It’s quite gross.

Harry slides onto a stool in his kitchen, confused by the text message before she’s sending the link to him.

Fine Line Inspired Cupcakes!

Harry isn’t quite sure why his heart starts pounding furiously in his chest. A sinking feeling in his stomach when he realizes that this was probably the surprise she was excited about.

He clicks on the thumbnail.

“Hiiii, it’s Y/N. Okay, well today we are going to bake some Fine Line inspired cupcakes. And if you haven’t listened to the album - get your ass out from rock you’re living under and stream it on Spotify!”

She has her hair down in long, waves and a loose cropped shirt that says TPWK in rainbow embroidery.

Harrys mouth is dry and he can’t take his fucking eyes away from the screen.

“Soo, I was thinking the first batch would be cherry flavored? ‘Cause he has a song titled ‘Cherry’. Let’s start there. First - I need to find my measuring cups.”

In true Y/N fashion, she scours her kitchen - cussing and yanking stuff out of her neatly organized cabinets before huffing and storming off to the side.

She comes back into view, a little frazzled but smiling when she holds up the ring of plastic measuring spoons, visible bite marks notched into the material.

“My asshole of a dog had a little snack,” Y/N shows the camera before shrugging, “Let’s get this shit started. Okay, you’re going to need one cup of sugar - no wait, two? I can’t read my fucking handwriting.”

Harry’s absolutely enamored by this scatter-brained, giggly girl who manages to produce cute blue and pink cupcakes that very vaguely resembled his album cover. His heart felt a million times too big for his chest.

He was enraptured for the entirety of the thirty minute video without taking his eyes away once.

To be honest, he hadn’t felt this way since his last relationship which was over a year ago at this point.

It’s not even a thought as he’s requesting a FaceTime with Y/N.

She answers after a few rings. She has a green face mask painted on her nose, chin, and forehead with gold eye masks under each eye. She is so fucking ridiculous it’s not even funny.

What is even more ridiculous is how gone Harry is realizing he is for her. She was quirky, unfiltered, carefree. If he was honest - he hadn’t met a girl like that in a very long time - especially a well-known influencer.

“Hi! How was your day, grumpy?” Y/N asks brightly, making a goofy face as the mask begins to tighten and crack on her skin. Not holding the earlier conversation against him and deciding to just move forward. She understood how stressful it can be.

“M’sorry. I was a bit grumpy,” He admits, “I loved your new video, darling. Did you make those just f’me?”

He can tell she’d be blushing if her face wasn’t covered, a bit bashful as she mutters, “You already know I did it for you.”

“You’re too sweet to me, only six days until we meet,” Harry replies, voice taking on a slow, lazy drawl.

“Six days,” Y/N repeats, eyes crinkling as she smiles with excitement.

“Is this outfit too much?” Y/N panics. Even though there’s literally nothing she can do about it - they’re already walking towards the backstage entrance of the massive arena. It’s still about two hours until the show starts but Harry requested her to come earlier.

Laney sighs, “For the millionth time, you look fucking sexy and Harry’s going to want to rail you right when he sees you.”

Y/N shoves her lightly with a faux annoyance as they meet up with a burly man who’s blocking the entrance to the backstage hallway and rooms.

She gives him their names and pulls up the passes on her phone before he’s nodding with any expression and letting them pass.

They’re not quite sure where to go from here so they begin to wander down the long hallway toward what looks to be the main area that people are milling about.

Y/N is nearly on the ground when someone rounds the corner without looking and walks right into her. Both of them let out huffs of air as they collide and attempt to stabilize themselves.

But there are large hands grasping her arms and holding her steady. In typical Y/N fashion she’s already cursing, “fuckin like a brick wall, look out next time.”

Then she’s looking up to Harry staring back down at her with an amused expression. He doesn’t let go of her and instead tugs her against his bare chest. He’s warm and a bit sweaty - like he’d just worked out. He was only in a pair of thin, running shorts, nike tennis shoes, and a little clip holding his hair off of his face.

Y/N can’t help but wrap her arms around his waist, returning the embrace and amazed by how right it feels to be in his arms. Her face tucks right against his collarbone and it’s like they’d known each other for years.

Pictures and videos don’t do this man justice. He’s gorgeous - sharp edges and dark inked skin. Tall and muscular but dimples that are carved in his cheeks.

“Nice to meet you, m’Harry,” Harry rumbles, removing one hand from Y/N’s shoulder to reach out his hand to her friend.

Laney shakes his hand before asking, “Laney. I’ll leave you two lovebirds be. Where’s the food?”

Harry chuckles against Y/N’s wavy hair, “Down the hall to the left.”

Laney’s trailing off without another glance, she was very food motivated despite her skinny frame. Also not wanting to intrude of the very personal first moments of their meeting.

The popstar pulls back to look down at the girl he’s fallen for in mere weeks. She’s as beautiful as he thought she'd be - if not more. He can’t help himself, “Would it be too forward to kiss you?”

Y/N smiles widely, running a hand along his jawline, “I’ve wanted you to kiss me since you stayed up on FaceTime with me until two in the morning as I cried after watching The Notebook - despite me seeing it a million times.”

Harry ducks forward to press his lips softly to her, large hands come to cup the side of her face as they connect. He’s so gentle as he moves his mouth against hers. In true Y/N fashion, she’s bold and has no hesitation slipping her tongue into his mouth.

He’s so fucking in love with her. It doesn’t make much sense - it’s definitely not logical but he’s realizing that’s okay.

“Oii, get a room!” Someone shouts from down the hallway teasingly.

Harry flips them the middle finger and pulls back, pink lips swollen and puffy, dimples on full display, “Let me take you out to dinner after the show, darling.”

“You going to wine and dine me, Styles?” Y/N giggles, unable to contain the pleasant warmness he’s spreading through her body.

“Mmm, have t’make sure you’ll want to keep me,” Harry murmurs happily against her lips once again, pressing kiss after kiss to her to make sure she’s real, “Definitely want to keep you.”

Y/N bites teasingly at his bottom lip, hand planted on the soft but firm skin of his stomach, “You’re never getting rid of me, hope you know that.”

“Was hoping you’d say that, now let me introduce you to my band.”

-- ---- ---- -- 1 year later - -- --- --- --

“Hi bitches! Today is a super special day. We have the one, the only Harry Styles filming with us. I know that’s not really that special since he’s on here all the time with me. But we’re celebrating our one year anniversary!” Y/N smiles, bumping hips with Harry who stands dutifully next to her.

Anyone viewing can see the absolute heart-eyes and adoration he has for the girl standing next to him. He’s still as lovestruck and gone for her as he was the first time they met. Harry’s fans were thrilled - for the first time in years, he’d opened up again.

They weren’t very public on social media beside’s tagging each other in memes and posting the occasional picture. Y/N was constantly uploading cooking videos from wherever in the world she was with Harry on his tour, she’d also begin making vlogs about different foods she’s been experiencing.

---

“Okay, so here in Peru - they’re known to have this really fucking spicy beef with noddles. So obviously, I’m going to make Harry try it first,” Y/N laughs as she props the camera up on the side of the table on a napkin holder.

Harry - who has a concert in a few hours - frowns at the steaming dish in front of him, “Darling, I don’t want to try it first. It’s going to burn my mouth. Not gonna be able to sing.”

“You’re sucha baby sometimes,” Y/N rolls her eyes, slurping up the noodles with her fork while making a silly face at her boyfriend. She pulls back, straight-faced, “It’s not hot at all. Tastes amazing, though.”

Harry takes that as an initiative to shovel a spoonful into his mouth. It only takes half a moment until his taste buds erupt in fiery flames from the spices, “You bloody little brat, y’tricked me! It’s so fuckin’ hot!”

Y/N smiles widely, laughing much too loudly in the restaurant when Harry chugs the glass of water next to the plate while glaring at his love. “I’m sorry, s’just to easy with you, lovie,” She replies, leaning over the table to press a kiss to his lips.

He’s a sucker for her and kisses her right back despite his mouth being an inferno. His heart was on fire for her and that burned much more intensely.

---

“No, love. The instructions say baking soda, not baking powder. They’re not the same thing,” Harry sighs, attempting to read her scribbled, sloppy handwriting. She’d already spilled milk on half of the paper.

“S’interchangeable, right?” Y/N hums, cracking an egg into the bowl and Harry automatically knows to look to fish out the eggshells that’d she’d let slip in because she sucks at cracking eggs but always wants to do it.

Harry reaches over her, grabbing the vanilla extract and a teaspoon, “It’s not, baby. Lemme do this real quick.”

“Will you make me a grilled cheese after this?” She asks, nuzzling into his side and wrapping her arms around his waist as he finishes adding the wet ingredients to their bowl. Harry stopped questioning her thought process a long time ago.

Harry swipes his finger into the mixture of icing off to the side and rubs it right onto her nose, cackling at her pout and squeaking when she pinches at the fleshy skin of his hips. She in turn dips her finger into the sugary cream and pops it right into her mouth.

Harry eyes darken, watching her lips purse as she sucks off the icing. It was a dirty move on Y/N’s part and she knows it. It has her boyfriend dragging an icing-covered thumb along her collarbone before leaning down to slowly lick up the sugary trail with his tongue.

When Y/N slides her fingers into his hair and lets out a pretty moan, Harry’s standing back up, trailing over to the tripod and saying into the camera, “We’ll be back after a little commercial break,” and is then turning off the record button.

It takes little to no time for Harry to have Y/N’s bum on the countertop, mouth on her neck, and hand in-between her thighs.

And when they finally posted a very edited final cut of the video - well there may be a couple of fans who notice the how flushed Y/N is halfway through and a lovely purple mark on Harry’s neck that wasn’t there in the beginning of the video.

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing request #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic rec #harry styles prompt #harry styles x influencer y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles drabble

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snoopdoodle · 3 years

Note

OMG!! Snoop, it was amazing! I’m a little sad that, I didn’t find about you until now. Your writing is so great! And are your request open or are you not taking request right now because of the collaborative. (It’s ok if there not)You can make a part 2 of Ranboo dad Reader. 🏳️‍🌈 Anarchy [I say this with all of my favorite authors, but if I’m bothering you tell me please tell me]

Ahh!! Anarchy the beloved!! Of course you can have a part 2!! The link for part 1 is right below !! Also, if I had spaced this out like I was taught in english, this would be hella long-

FIRST PART \\ THRID PART

--------

Dad, but not // pt. 2

platonic!ranboo x male!reader, platonic!benchtrio x male!reader

pronouns: he/him

summary: kinda angsty second part to my story

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

You cackled in the background as your son was blown up by a creeper. Your laugh was contagious as Tubbo started laughing with you. You slapped your knee from laughing so much. Tubbo tried to stand up, but he fell, which made you all laugh harder. “Don’t get an aneurysm, dad,” Ranboo told, and this just made you suffocate more. “Holy sh-i-i-i-t, hehe..” you spoke between laughter. “‘Don’t get an aneurysm’- heh-HEH” You tried to quote, but it just turned into a coughing/laughing fit. You groaned as your throat felt sore. “Dad, please don’t die,” Your son worried, and you pat his shoulder. “Not dying any time soon,” You started, your smile kind of turning forced.

You’d yet to tell the boys, Ranboo and his friends, that you would be leaving soon. You were happy and upset. You were only in England to do work. You could rent out a place here and leave it to one of your English friends who works in England as well. Maybe you could just buy a house here… no that would cost too much- “DAD! Are you ok? You’re zoning out.” Ranboo asked. You hadn’t realized it yet, but you had been ignoring Ranboo speaking to you. When Tubbo tried, you didn’t even reply. The both of them and chat had started to get worried. Ranboo ended up grabbing your shoulders and shaking them a few times.

“Y-yeah, I-I-I’m ok boys, I think I need to sit down for a second,” you informed. Now they were even more worried. You sat down on the couch and put your face in your hands. You had a killer headache. ‘I’m overworking myself.’ you thought, annoyed. You had asked your boss for a break multiple times, but he hadn’t responded. You thought about it for another second before deciding. You would skip a few days of work, hang out with the boys, then you would tell them. Or you’d tell them, then have your fun day…. days. Telling them after seems better. “Alrighty, I think we’re gonna end stream now, folks! Have a good day, bye!” Ranboo spoke. That was what snapped you out of your ideas.

Ranboo turned to you and sadly smiled. “You doing ok, pops?” He asked, He rarely used that name for you. Of course, you felt bad. You stood up, ignoring the sharp pain that came to your head. “Don’t worry about be kiddo… and I’m sorry for making you worry. I was thinking of stuff,” You answered, smiling as you felt Ranboo un-tense and lean into the hug. Tubbo huffed and walked into the hug as well. You moved your arm so it was wrapped around both of the boys. “By the way, Tubbo, do you have any Tylenol… or Aspirin?” You asked, ruining the mood, but making the 2 laugh.

“Yeah, we do. I’ll go get you some,” He spoke as he left the hug. Ranboo let go so Tubbo could get you some meds for your headache. Ranboo smiled, asking you s question. “So, what were you thinking of that had you so…” He stopped, as he couldn’t think of the word. “Disassociated?” You replied, “Yeah, I was thinking we could do something together. Me, you, Tommy, Tubbo, and maybe someone else if you want to invite someone.” You informed. Ranboo’s smile widened and he nodded his head. “Y-yeah! That sounds awesome!” He grinned. He hadn’t taken off his mask or glasses, but you could feel the happiness radiating off him.

“Ok, ok, kid. Let me get it planned, alright?” You spoke, chuckling. You had ford a smile onto your face as Tubbo came back into the room. He handed you the meds and a glass of water. You nodded a silent ‘ thank you ‘ to him. Ranboo grabbed Tubbo’s hand and dragged him to watch a movie. “You coming, dad?” he asked, you shook your head no and pointed to your phone and he gave a look of understanding. You walked outside and took note of the stormy clouds. You dialed the number and gave a smile when she answered. “Hey, Kristin,” you greeted into the phone. You smiled as she gave a polite hello back. “I need to ask you something,” you started. “Hm?” She hummed. You could hear her cooking in the background.

“I have to tell the boys that I’m goin’ back home soo, and I don’t know how..” You ranted, frowning into the phone. You heard a creak and turned around. The door was open. “Hm?” You questioned. You closed that door, didn’t you? Oh well. You walked back to the door and shut it firmly. “Well, I’d say you just flat out tell them. You should see how they take it, and then do something with them,” You laughed into the phone and shook your head. “That was my plan already!” You exclaimed with a grin. She laughed into the phone and you could hear her tap the counter. “Well I say you just go with your plan,” She told you. You grinned and nodded.

“Alrighty then, have a good day, Kristin,” you chuckled. “You too, [Name],” She told before hanging up. You held the phone, taking a deep breath. You walked back to the door, opening it softly and stepping inside. You could hear the thunder roar from outside so you were lucky to make it in soon enough. You walked through the halls. You heard a sniff and you stopped. “Hello?” You asked before stepping into the living room. Ranboo tuned to you and you could see his puffy eyes. “Are you really going back home soon?” He asked. Your eyes went wide and you sighed, putting your head down. You nodded to him and he sniffed again.

You walked back to the boy and pat his back. Tubbo sighed and put his head down, starting to tear up as well. He enjoyed having you here as much as Ranboo did. “I-Is that why you wanted to have a fun day?” He questioned and you nodded. “I was actually thinking of how I could stay longer.” Ranboo and Tubbo’s eyes widened as they listened to your explanation. “I want to stay longer, I really do kid. My company had only paid the hotel for the 2-week stay I have, so I couldn’t stay longer than that,” You told them with a frown. You sighed again and put your head into your arms.

“I’m sorry. Let’s just have a fun day together. You can invite that Tommy kid, if your parents’ll allow it Tubbo,” You sadly chuckled. Ranboo and Tubbo smiled at how you were trying to make things better. Ranboo called Tommy as Tubbo called his parents. Tubbo and Tommy’s parents agreed, so he walked on over. You all decided to have a sleepover-type thing. Tommy would stay over for the next 4 days that you are over. You all would stream, cook, vlog, and watch a couple movies. This should be fun. The first day you all hung out, you decided to do a cooking stream. You made a great bowl of pasta… besides the fact that Tommy spilled the sauce multiple times and Ranboo dropped the pasta noodles, breaking them into bits.

The second day, You all streamed a ‘you laugh, you lose’ stream. You didn’t laugh once, although you were very close. People had found it funny when you clapped to the song “Two Trucks” on beat. Ranboo’s hand had flown to his mouth, Tubbo had busted out laughing, and it took Tommy a seconds since he didn’t know what the song was. Chat had busted out laughing, and you only knew to do that because of how many times you had heard it from Ranboo. The other funny part was when someone donated a clip from the song “WAP”, and you had sung it word for word. Yeah… you successfully made the boys lose 2 lives… each.

On the third day, you all didn’t stream, but instead watched a movie. You decided to watch the Toy Story saga. All of you cried since you are all children. On the fourth day, you all went to a Halloween store that had opened early and vlogged there. It was all fun and games… till you all got kicked out cause, out of surprise and fear, you punched (and broke) one of the animatronics. The vlog was about 20 minutes long, so you thought it was pretty successful. Although, in the end, since you had run out of footage, you decided to do some small clips of you telling stories from America before your met Ranboo’s family.

And then you had the last day, today. Tomorrow you’d be going home. It was about 2 in the morning as you layed down. Captain America was playing in the background as the boys slept. Ranboo was cuddled up to your side, as was Tubbo. Tommy, however, was resting on the other side of the couch. Earlier in the night, he claimed that he didn’t need affection, but you knew he just didn’t want to get ‘picked on’ by Ranboo and Tubbo. You smiled as the boys shifted in their hold. Yeah, you’d miss them like hell. But hey, you just had the best 5 days of your life and, honest;y, you think you might be coming back soon.

#male reader #platonic bench trio #tommyinnit #x male reader #platonic tubbo #ranboo #dsmp x male reader #dsmp ranboo #dsmp angst #platonic!ranboo x reader #male!reader #platonic tommyinnit #dad!reader

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lovesanmotion · 3 years

Text

yandere!ateez 99 & 00 liner reacts: seeing s/o kill for the first time

💌. This is: requested | 98 liner reaction here

TW: blood and gore

Yunho:

The thought originally came when Yunho let you borrow his playstation controller while playing an rpg game. Situated in the living room, he made himself comfortable besides you on the couch and watched how you strategized and kill your enemies through the screen. And then the thought came into him, what if you kill with him? Slowly his mind drifted into the new found thought and kept pondering about it besides you.

“Are you okay, love? I said I finished the game and look!” You smiled as you pointed at the screen with the words YOU WON. He smiled and placed a kiss on your cheek before turning off the controller and helping you cook dinner.

When the following week came, Yunho was on his way home from the groceries when someone he knew particularly bumped into him.

“Watch where you’re going man. Jesus.” He sneered at Yunho before going back to whoever he was talking to on the phone. That particularly person isn’t just a random stranger, it was your ex boyfriend who dumped you for a random girl he met online. Yunho stopped on his tracks, pondering in his thoughts before putting the paper bags inside the car and walking over to some place else.

“Y/N look what I have for you!” you went over to where you heard Yunho was and it lead you to the living room, in the middle of the room is a man tied onto a chair with a sack covering his head.

A smile still plastered on his lips as he hands you a metal baseball bat. You blinked twice before taking it in your hands. You were using the same kind of bat while playing Yunho’s game. He was sensing your hesitation before he went behind you and whispered in your ear.

“This is your ex boyfriend. He bumped into me the other day, wouldn’t it be nice to take your revenge?” And with that, a thousand of horrible memories came flooding into your head. There are good memories with your ex, however, they were overshadowed by the bad ones. Gripping your hold on the base, you swinged the bat and continously swung it over his head. Hearing a few bones cracking and watching as the white sack turn into bright red. You wouldn’t stop not until Yunho wrapped his arms around you from behind and took the bat away from you.

“That’s enough, darling. You did so well today. Done beautifully.” Sensing his smile, he wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face on the crook of your neck and hearing the thud of the metal bat onto the floor.

Yeosang:

“Do you love me, Y/N?”

His voice ran chills down your spine. In front of you is the love of your life, staring deeply into your eyes while a third party whose hands and ankles are binded, hid behind Yeosang’s back and body on the floor. And this was no ordinary person who’s binded and laying pathetically on Yeosang’s basement. It was your old college dormmate, now all botched up, who tried to take Yeosang from you.

“If you love me” Yeosang says, taking your hands in his before placing a small pointed metal with a wooden handle into your hands. An ice pick. “you would kill for me.” He ends his sentence before moving away, his eyes never removing from you. Yeosand’s smart and you knew why he chose this weapon. Once stabbed, the victim doesn’t die immediately, rather, the stab wounds would turn into injuries forming blood clots until slowly the victim slips into their death. Making the victim look like they died from blood clotting, internal bleeding or aneurysm.

You slowly kneeled down besides her head, watching as her eyes gloss with tears.

“Please Y/N. Were friends” she chokes out before breaking into a sob. You softly cooed at her, brushing a few hairstrands away from her face.

“This will be quick” raising your right hand and then stabbing the ice pick onto her forehead, burying the metal surface deeply into her skull, twisting the weapon and then swiftly pulling it out of her.

Yeosang’s giggles broke the silence of the room as he takes the ice pick from your hand, placing it on top of the table before wrapping his arms around you.

“I knew you love me too, Y/N!” He chirps. Seeing him happy made your feelings swell and warm your insides, you raised your arms and slowly wrapped them around his nape, hugging him back.

San:

You and San are not in the best of terms as of the moment. You had raised your voice at him and disobeyed him, causing him to leave the shared home, only to return home with a random girl he picked up from the streets and started to have sex with her in the living room. You took your earphones and mp3 player from your desk, playing a random song just to block the girl’s annoying autotuned moaning from your ears. You couldn’t care less if San was dicking her down, you knew you were bound to die in this place before you could even see San in a different light.

And everything was going fine until your bedroom swung open and a shirtless San barged into your room, grabbing your forearm and then dragging you into the room next to yours.

“Let go of me you manwhore!” You tried yanking your arm away from his grip only to fail. You were expecting to see a naked woman on his bed, whoever it turned out to be the opposite. The woman, still fully clothed, has her arms and ankles tied onto the bed posts. You were confused, you looked at San for an answer.

“Do you think I’m a manwhore when I dedicate my whole life to you?” He says, walking closer to you, eyes staring straight into your dark brown orbs. “Kill her, if you hate her presence bothers you so much.” He says before taking a hold on your shoulders and spinning you around. The woman shook her head, pleading for her life. But all you did is grab onto the pillow and watch her suffocate while struggling. When she was no longer struggling, you immediately let go of the cushions, your back bumping into San’s hard rock chest.

“That’s my baby.” He whispers softly, hugging you from behind and placing his chin on top of your shoulder.

Mingi:

He doesn’t see the point of you still working in your corporate office when all your boss does is humiliate you in front of your co workers. For all he knows, your boss should keep his mouth shut or else he’d kill him. Kill. The word rang into his mind. What if you, the love of his life, kill your boss? It sounded like a good plan. Better even. That night, he stepped out into the night and kidnapped your boss who is easy enough to locate.

Your self esteem went lower and lower as your boss would continue to humiliate you inside the office. But when you heard that he didn’t come to work today, you were wondering where the devil is he. It wasn’t until you clocked out at 6pm and went straight home.

“Hi Y/N!” Mingi smiles, waving his hand happily but with your boss all tied up into a chair. Your eyes widened in surprise making you drop your handbag.

“I can’t let this fat fuck run his mouth and talk shit about my baby. So I did the honors for you.” How could he still smile in a situation like this? He kidnapped your boss and he’s happy about it?

“And so, to end my baby’s pain, she gets to do this. One time big time only.” He hands you a jagdkommando knife.

Your breath hitched. “H-how do you have this?” you asked, your voice coming out merely a whisper. Mingi takes a step closer to you, cupping your eyes as he looks into your eyes brimming with tears. “Don’t ask questions like that now, jagi. What matters here is that once we, well you, kill him, all the money he has will be wired into my account and you wouldn’t have to work for that damned office anymore. Don’t you want that?” He leans down and places a kiss on your forehead.

You turned to face your boss whose wailing around his seat, his pants dampening with his pee. Raising your hand, you brought the knife down on his neck. Hearing that squelching sound before taking the knife out, raising your hand and bringing it to his stomach and pulling it out. Your work clothes stained with his blood, watching your boss bleed out through the large holes you’ve created on his skin with the knife.

“Don’t hurt yourself now.” He whispers, taking the knife away from your hand. “How was your day today, jagi? Let me run you a hot bath before we have dinner.” He says, taking you upstairs.

Wooyoung:

He got a little carried away torturing a guy who confessed to you the other day for liking you. He was having his own little fun by purposefully making him trip on his own feet and stab his legs, dodging him whenever he would lunge at him and then hit his head on the wall. That was what he was doing until you came home.

“Hear that, idiot? She’s home.” He says, leaving the basement with a mood shift. Happily skipping to the living room to greet you. “Darlinggg~” he flings his arms around you.

“What’s got you so hyper right now?” You chuckle softly, turning to face him. Instead of replying, he took a hold of your hand and lead you the basement. To your surprise, you see a man whose lying on the floor, pants bloodied and covered in sweat.

“It’s your turn to get into the fun!” He smiles handing you a russian roulette with only one bullet inside. “I already had my turn with him and I reserved for you the grand finale.” He says, hugging you tightly in his arms. “Think of this as his final dying act. When he dies, the curtains will close and the people will praise you.” He places a big kiss on your cheek.

You weren’t skilled like Wooyoung, but you hoped that this bullet would go into his head. You took a deep breath and pulled the trigged. And as you wished, the bullet pierced through the skin of his forehead and into his skull.

Wooyoung clapped and stood up from his seat like a standing ovation. He walks up to you and takes your hand in his.

“What a natural.”

Jongho:

Staring at you is something that Jongho will never get tired of doing. Even when you get embarrassed, Jongho will never keep his eyes off you. If his eyes were his stomach, they would feel so full just by looking at you. Only he can stare at you how he wants to. No one else except him. Not until his next door neighbor accidentally discovered you when you opened the door.

He was furious at you and at his neighbor and dragged both of you into his basement. Before he left, you pleaded not to let him leave you alone. Seeing the tears in your eyes were his ultimate weakness, he hated the feeling that it was him who made you cry. But you broke a rule, and it is only fitting that you receive a punishment.

“Wait here” he says, ascending up the stairs and going somewhere. When he came back, he has a 7 needle gauge in his hand.

“You broke a rule, darling. You shouldn’t have answered the door. If you want me to forgive you, stab his eyes.” He says, your breath hitched. Never once did you imagine yourself killing someone. Let alone be an order from a person. When you sat closer to his neighbor, you quickly pierced the needle into his eye. Letting out a blood curdling scream, your heart raced. Swiftly taking the needle out, the man lets out a cry before screaming again as you did the same into his left eye.

When he was no longer moving, it was your turn to cry. Tossing the needle away as you brought your knees close to your chest, sobbing. Jongho’s footsteps could be heard behind you, slowly he lifted you up and carried you bridal style.

“It’s over now, sweetheart. I’m not mad at you anymore.”

231 notes · View notes

caterpellas · 4 years

Text

munich nights • harry styles

summary: touring inseparably as best friends and musicians, yours and harry’s relationship takes a cruel turn in munich.

warnings: smut (oral m recieving)

genre: bestfriend!harry, friends to lovers(?), angst, smut

pt 1/? (two is here) word count: 4k

a/n: this is my first time writing in like a year so some feedback would be amazing, pls be kind and show some love to my crumby attempt lol

chapter playlist :D

harry.

he was sort of your anchor. unspoken, of course, that he had taken such a high profile role in your life. he didn’t need to know, to know. you were certain it worked in reverse, that you grounded him just like he did for you.

you’re not sure of the timestamp on the beginning of your friendship, sometime 3 years ago after mindlessly chatting in a shoreditch bar, at the sort of venue you were both cackling over after a couple of overpriced gin and tonics.

“i’m not sure why i came here, it really isn’t my scene,” you said after calming your laughter down.

“me neither. i’m not all that into £18 cocktails made with organic fruit juice,” he jested back, although you felt a hint of sadness in the next, “it makes me miss home.”

after that you clicked instantly.

you both bonded over being musicians; your styles contrasted entirely though. his band, who you met a few occasions later, were the antithesis to yours. mitch and sarah looked and sounded like they were fresh from a 70’s pop rock band, whilst your bassist and drummer, both twins, had buzzed heads and black dr martens on 24/7. the differences between you and him didn’t matter in the slightest. which is why, after 18 months of building the strongest friendship you’d had in your life, he asked you and your band to come on tour with him.

touring with your best friend and now biggest fan was the single greatest experience of your life. you would admit to the apprehension you first felt about opening for harry as your music wasn’t exactly in keeping with his genre- you were a little grungier then his soft style. i suppose the opposites between you is what enhanced everything about your relationship, musically and personally. in articles harry was always praised for his effeminate fashion choices, and since gaining some recognition as his opener, the articles were now mentioning how you dressed too, hyping up your more boyish, ‘can’t be bothered’ clothing taste you’d developed over your years in the band. your shoes were always chunky and platform, your top or bottoms usually oversized and always with the same thick chain around your neck. to some, your style seemed intimidating but it couldn’t be further from the truth. harry knew that best of all.

3 months into the tour now, you had made it to munich for the 1st night of your european portion of the tour. you and harry were sat next to one another on the plane, sharing an earpod each, playing music from your playlist titled “h”. you hadn’t been able to sleep on the overnight flight, after reading a particularly disturbing article about harry’s recent paparazzi shots. “harry styles’ player ways making a comeback?” it read, and pictured him with a couple models you’d met in new york together after going out for the night. you couldn’t place why but the article made you feel sick. you put it down to seeing such a close friend’s name slandered in the press, and you hoped he hadn’t read it yet. harry was often disheartened after reading the gossip people like to spread about him, occasionally involving you as well.

“you seem very deep in thought.” harry’s morning voice could be heard over the sound of steely dan in your ears. turning to him, one of his eye’s peering at you, you reply, “not really- just thinking about the set list.”

“you need to switch off your work brain sometimes,” he grins up at you, “have a little more fun! munich will be great, lots of beer to try.”

“of course that’s what you look forward to most. you know munich is filled with some beautiful architecture and history right?”

“that’s great and all, but you know what else they have?” harry questions you and you shake your head.

“oktoberfest.”

you arrived at your airbnb not long after- harry’s band and yours all preferred staying in a large house or apartment then some posh hotel that didn’t feel quite as welcoming. harry’s manager picked the place out, opting for a villa that sleeps 10 people, filled to the brim with oak panelling and a big fire place in the centre of the room. there was a hot tub outside that would probably never be used in your short stay there. the kitchen had a large island in the middle and a big aga keeping the place warm in the late september weather. his manager really outdid herself this time.

“this is place is so beautiful,” you still weren’t over all of the beautiful places this tour had taken you, the short time you’d been travelling had been a sensory overload.

“you’ll really like munich, y/n,” harry said yawning, grabbing both your shoulders from behind. his touch took your mind back to the article.

“harry,” you started, reluctantly turning to face him, “i know it’s none of my business who you, you know- fuck, but i was just wondering what happened with those models after i left?” harry’s calm expression never faltered as he answered, “me and camila kissed in the taxi but then i went back to the hotel. why?” you didn’t have the strength to answer honestly, and tell him it was because the thought of him having a threesome with two supermodels made you physically wretch, but you felt an obligation to give him a somewhat truthful answer.

“i saw an article about it, the paps caught a glimpse of it,” you white-lied. if you were going to be honest with yourself, the reason him with people like camila and gina bothered you so much is because of the way you compared yourself to them. you were overall confident, you were proud of your style and “gives no fucks” attitude you’d built up over the years, but these were literal models. women who were paid, like paid a lot, because they were beautiful. harry’s dating history has had a lot of women you could never measure up to be as good as and that was a real confidence breaker.

“well anyway, are you ready for tonight’s show? we were thinking it would be cool if you guys came on with us and...”

harry, as per usual, performed with all of his heart and soul and yet again amazed you. he had been doing this for three months, playing at least three shows a week and his energy levels were still unmatchable. you were back in your dressing room, taking off your stage clothes and putting on an almost identical outfit, wiping the sweat off your brow and upper lip. the monitor in your room played harry’s set, and you had to find any way you could to distract yourself from his performance before you ended up fantasising about the way his sweaty curls cling to his neck and how you wished he was sweating like that just for you, for an entirely different reason.

“thank you so much munich!” you hear harry’s accent through the small tv, and look up to see him panting and grinning, before running off stage. you had no idea why, but tonight there was a small amount of nervousness about you. since reading the article, you’ve had to address the gnawing idea that you could possibly have feelings for harry that were more than just your deep set friendship. would you act differently about the man you loved more than anyone in this world? you didn’t want things to change- they were perfect with him. he’d jest with you when you became too much of a perfectionist about your latest song, telling you to stop thinking so hard or you’ll have an aneurysm. if people commented on his style or yours, he’d laugh it off and tell everyone he’s “the woman in the relationship” sarcastically, and you’d be in awe at how he essentially said a huge “fuck you” to gender norms. he made you comfortable being you and you coveted his ability to be so happy being him. the thought of this bond being broken frightened you to your core. the knock at your door was a good signal for your thoughts to end.

“you coming y/n?” the group of you were all headed to a german beer bar, since harry was so eager to try the world famous pilsner. finding a large lounge space with sofas inside the bar, you all sat and ordered a round, celebrating a good night’s work.

“to the first night in europe,” you toasted, “cheers!” all your glasses clinked together and the nervous feeling started to fade finally. sat next to harry, you discussed the tour so far, he told a story about being in one direction and it reminded you of a hilarious story from when you were 15, when you used to listen to emo music and swore how much you hated one direction, and they all laughed at the irony. if you had told your 15 year old self this was where you’d be at 21, you’d have snorted and laughed till you cried. but life works out in strange ways and you wouldn’t change it for a second. a few drinks in and any of those nervous feelings about what harry was to you had evaporated like alcohol till you eventually had to remind yourself that whilst your hand was on harry’s knee, it meant nothing. and the way he leans forward to you as he laughed at your not-so-funny joke. but those reminders were getting weaker the more his touch started to linger after he went to go and grab his pint the same time you did.

“we really must stop meeting like this,” he jokes as your hand rubs against his for the 50th time that might and you laugh at him because your afraid if you don’t play it off as a joke you’ll lean over and kiss him. you find yourself in need of a distraction from his low buttoned shirt and endless black ink drawn across his chest that you can see in high definition when your this close to him.

“i’m going to get another round,” you exclaim dramatically, telling yourself more than the rest of the group. making your way over to the bar, you can feel harry’s vision bearing into your back as you lean against the counter to get service.

“another round of pilsners on the table’s tab please,” you ask as soberly as you can. you’re not off your face yet, but the alcohol is definitely present, surrounding the corners of your vision.

“i’d rather by you a drink.” a slightly german accent crowds your ears and you look over to see a man, not all that different to some of the guys in harry’s band, smirking at you.

nervous, you reply, “no you don’t need to do that we have a tab here.”

“i insist.” afraid to be impolite you quietly thank him, and turn back to the bar. you can’t even think of chatting to guy at a bar whilst the man you love is sat so close by. even though it’s not returned, the pain of giving him up to flirt with a stranger is too much to bare.

“so what brings you to a local’s bar like this one?”

“me and my friends are working here for the night.”

“just here for the night? such a shame,” his smile, although attempting to seem unthreatening, is making you uncomfortable. the bartender seems to be taking forever with your order.

“i’m staying in a hotel a few minutes away, come and join me and their bar for a real drink?” your heart was pounding. you rarely got hit on so you were a little out of practice on how to deal with persistent assholes like these ones.

“i can show you how the germans like to do it.” that was it- he’d gone too far and you were so embarrassed by this point you were too humiliated to even reply to him. your neck was getting hotter and you could feel your cheeks reddening.

“you okay?” harry’s voice took you out of your panic-stricken state, “you were taking a while.”

turning to harry and preparing to tell him how this man won’t get the message, the german creep pipes up, “she’s fine mate. we were just discussing a date.”

“listen mate, i suggest you back off. alright?” harry grabbed your hand, tightly, and guided you out of the bar.

“harry where are we going?” you could barely comprehend what had happened in the last five minutes to even realise he was hailing a taxi.

“back to the house. i’ll text the others.”

“harry i’m fine honestly it’s no-“

“who said i was fine? i wanted to leave and i thought maybe you did too.” he was angry, which wasn’t something you saw in harry often. he was a happy guy, and optimistic about most things in life.

“is this because of that guy?”

“of course it is y/n.”

“i’m sorry i didn’t realise he’d be an assho-“

“why’re you apologising?”

this shut you up. you didn’t know why. this wasn’t the first time a guy had been slightly predatory towards you and you doubted it would be the last. after the first couple times your in situations like this you tend to see yourself as the problem and not the guys doing it.

“i don’t know, harry.” you climbed into the cab together and harry gave them the address, seeming somewhat cooled off from earlier. your head was buzzing from the alcohol and the fact that harry had essentially rescued you from what could have been a scary situation.

“harry?”

“yeah, y/n?”

“why did you kiss camila?” alcohol had made you more outspoken and you asked the question that had been driving your nervous energy all night.

“why are you asking?”

a little more honestly then last time, you answered, “i’m just curious.” harry shifted in his chair, slightly unnerved by the question. his whole demeanour had shifted entirely from earlier. he was close and warm with you, the friend you’d become addicted to being with. now he was closed off and moody- a rare sight for anyone who knew him well. you could have picked a better time to ask the question, of course, but you had to know. you had other questions too, like why he was so angry right now, and why did he care that i was chatting with a guy at the bar, even if he was a creep.

“because she wanted to kiss me and i wanted to kiss her. the same reason most humans kiss,” there was a slight element of humour back in his voice now.

“and that was it?”

“yep.”

“hmm.” you tried to ponder this, but your attention span was limited when you were this inebriated. your thought process had quickly moved from harry’s sex life to harry in general and his outfit of the evening- a personal favourite. he’d worn white cream trousers with a vest top and an unbuttoned short sleeve shirt, along with the necklace you’d given him last christmas. you could see his two swallows peaking from the straps of his wife beater and your mind wandered to the thought of having your mouth against them. against all his tattoos, individually placing a kiss on each and everyone that you had grown to fall in love with.

you remembered the memory of harry coming with you to get your largest tattoo, a greek statue on your upper arm.

“harry you know this isn’t the first one i’ve gotten?” you laugh at how hard he was clutching your hand in the chair next to your seat.

“i know but i’m so excited for you. i want you to know i’ll be sat here the whole time to hold your hand,” he squeezes your hand to emphasise his point.

“harry i’m getting another tattoo not going into life-altering surgery.”

but inside, you were squealing at his words.

“y/n?”

harry’s less chipper current voice took you out of your memory and back to the cab in munich.

“you’ve been staring at my chest for a couple minutes,” his brows were furrowed as he studied your face.

“i want to lick it.” if someone had asked you why you answered with that, you genuinely couldn’t give them a good answer. alcohol didn’t do much to you, except allow you to have fun, and lose any sense of a filter. now was a perfect example of the effects. harry’s eyes widened at your candour- and so did yours. his calm expression only faltered for a few seconds though, before it returned to his neutral, warm face.

“what else?”

“i-uh- what?”

“what else were you thinking about?” your heart was beating so loudly you were sure harry could feel it across in his seat. why was harry asking this? you didn’t want him to know about your thoughts- they were far too embarrassing and far too private.

“i was thinking about all your tattoos,” you confessed.

“i was thinking about yours too.” you thought about all of your tattoos and remembered the dog rose you had on the back of your thigh, as well as the koi carp on your hip bone.

“which ones?”

“the flowers and the fish.” you gulped, knowing he was thinking of your most risqué tattoos.

harry, unusually, was completely serious as he said, “i thought about licking yours too.” you didn’t know where you stood with harry now. you were sat in a taxi, having the conversation with him that you thought would never happen. he wants you the same way you want him. he may not want you the same way a nagging voice told you. he could just be looking for an easy fuck, and you thought to yourself that even if that was all he wanted, you’d still give yourself to him.

“harry-“

“maybe we shouldn’t talk anymore, yeah?” you felt like you could cry- how could he not want to talk, and you were on tour together? this was the most gut wrenching feeling to have him tell you not to talk anymore. harry studied your face as you lip began to quiver, “jesus y/n i meant about the current conversation. of course i want to keep talking to you, i love you- you know, like a friend.”

“like a friend?” you couldn’t ever begin to describe how your heart felt like it fell to the pit of your stomach whilst the acid slowly burnt it away. friends is it. harry isn’t yours to have and he never will be, he just had to remind you in words of this.

“well we’re both a little drunk and clearly turned on- maybe just this once it could be more than friends? just for tonight, i mean?” harry’s clear green eyes didn’t stop looking into yours, and he seemed, i’m not sure, hopeful? as if on cue, the taxi took you back to your villa which was warmly lit from inside and you felt a nervous excitement crawl up your arms and legs at what could possibly come next. harry gave the driver the cash and you dashed quickly to the door of the house, the cool september air cutting through you both dressed inappropriately for the time of year. it dawned on you that your outfit- a big vintage men’s shirt with your oldest and favourite pair of dr martens with sheer tights- wasn’t the wisest choice. harry fumbled with unlocking the door and opened it to find the fire lit and the lights dimmed. it was more romantic than either of you would ever mention out loud but it felt like the house was routing for you. you weren’t sure where harry wanted this to go next, the air beginning to stiffen and feel awkward.

turning to face him, you started, “harry i-“ his lips met yours in an instance and any of the awkwardness left in the room had been dissolved by harry’s soft kiss. he tasted good, despite the beer you’d both been drinking and had you not been intoxicated by the pilsner and harry’s gentle touch, you’d probably care about things like breath. harry grabbed you by the shoulders, much like he did earlier that same day, and guided you into the room further, finding the large sofa and pushing you onto it. falling back, you glanced up at his towering figure. harry was already tall, but his powerful presence added a less literal height to him, and his shadow looked over you. you couldn’t help but stare at him as he shrugged his shirt off his shoulders, exposing some of your favourite tattoos of his. you got to your knees so that you were closer to his body and you finally relaxed in his presence, touching all the places you’d dreamed about. your hands raked up his torso to his chest and his head leant down to kiss you again. his lips were perfect and seemed made to be against yours so tightly, and made for the crook of your neck as well as they kissed and sucked there too. the fire in the corner of your eyes illuminated the small amount of gold in harry’s hair and he looked as angelic as he always did in your dreams.

“am i better than him?” harry murmured against your neck. the question caught you off guard. he’d only known one other person you’d had a sexual relationship with since you two became friends and that was a sound tech from one of his old touring groups that you had a small fling with. him and harry never got along and harry even accused him of purposely messing his sound up during a performance once. harry has walked in on you giving him head in your dressing room once and it was incredibly awkward but you both moved past it.

“who are you talking about?”

“you know, that arsehole sound tech from the american tour. do i kiss you better than him?” you could hear the layers to his voice- he was asking with a confidence that you felt straight in your core, but there was another layer to it- insecurity.

“god yes,” you gushed, he had to at least know how he physically made you feel even if you can’t admit your feelings, “you kiss far better then he ever could.”

an idea came into your head at this, “in fact, i bet you’ll feel better in my mouth then he did.” harry jaw slacks slightly and you give him a shy smile. talking like this wasn’t something you ever tried when you were having sex, but harry made you want to be honest. it was the closest you could get to confessing your love to him, and you’d take what you could get from harry right now. stunned into silence, you continue to undress harry, removing his vest to expose his lean stomach and small trail of hair from his belly button, that you kissed all the way down. he let out a sharp breath as soon as you got to the top of his pubic bone, and you finally noticed just how hard harry already was. with a little fascination, you dared to take it to the next level and cupped his length through his trousers, causing harry to groan at the contact. he felt big in your small hand, you couldn’t wait to reveal him, impatiently struggling with his zipper.

“woah, y/n, slow down,” harry puts a finger under your chin and you look up under your lash at him, knelt below him. his smile is a classic harry smile and for a brief second this feels like more than a casual fuck.

“you’re still wearing too much clothing.” harry bends slightly to get to the bottom of your shirt and speedily pulls it over your head, revealing your black cotton bralet and tights. harry’s mouth watered at the sight of you in nothing but your underwear and boots, your long hair falling in messy waves around your minimally tattooed arms. your sure your black eyeliner is smudged and your gloss practically jin existent but harry’s eyes make you feel like he wants nothing more then to fuck you.

“that’s much better,” he smiles again at you, and you take that as a good cue to continue on his member. eagerly, your hands go straight back to his flies, rapidly undoing them and letting his loose fit trousers fall from his hips, exposing his form fitted boxers and you get a much better idea of just how big harry’s cock really was. without realising you mumble, “i want you in my mouth so bad,” under your breath.

“fuck say that again.”

looking under your lashes again, you repeat, “i want your cock in my mouth so bad.” harry groans as his eyes roll back, his words almost being enough without your touch. but your hand still went back to his dick, pulling it out from the restraint of his boxers. it was thick and bigger then you had been with before. without missing a beat, your hand pumped him a few times, and his hips reacted instantly. as if beckoning for your lips to surround his cock, his hips thrust towards you again, and you obliged, licking and then parting your wetted lips for the head of his dick. the pre-cum touched your tongue and it urged you to take more of him further, swiping your tongue on the underside as you push more in. harry moans, gripping your scruffy hair in his large hand, and had to restrain from pushing your mouth around his whole length. as your mouth got acquainted with him, you started to move up and down the length, as harry’s moans got higher and louder.

“y/n your mouth is fucking magic.” the praise went straight to your clit and your underwear was dampening at the knowledge of the dirty things your mouth was doing.

“can you- fuck- can you grab my balls?” you responded immediately and cupped them lightly whilst continuing to bob your head on his cock.

“didn’t know you could you use your mouth for such dirty things, y/n. do i fill you better then he did?”his jealousy fuelled you to go even quicker, this time switching up to concentrating on his swollen head, your tongue lapping against it feverishly, whilst your hand pumped the rest of him. the combination of your hand and mouth was enough to drive harry insane.

“you do so good y/n, i’m gonna cum soon okay?” you release him from your mouth, and keep stroking him, eager for him to orgasm. you couldn’t describe the desperation you had to see the way he looked as he climaxed. if you were to die after this, you knew you would die happy, if only to have seen harry in that state of euphoria that only you could bring him to.

“fuck y/n i’m gonna cum,” harry pants, his thighs tensing and his eyes glazing over. you aim him over your chest and feel his load fall all over your breasts, soaking your bralet as he lets out a breathy moan. his breathes are loud and aside from the fire crackling are the only noise filling the space of the living room. you let his now soft cock go and fall back onto the sofa, too tired to think about all of what just happened, the only thought on your mind is of harry’s moans on repeat. your chest is sticky but you’re too exhausted to care. harry has slowly crept over to sit next to you on the sofa, and you’re unspokenly thankful he hasn’t distanced himself afterwards.

“i need to clean you up.” harry disappears as quickly as he arrived and comes back with a warm flannel. wiping your chest, you watch his face as his brows furrow delicately on his forehead and his mouth is slightly crooked in concentration. you loved every single portion of his face, and suddenly it meant something different. you had seen his face at it’s most real and vulnerable and you had that memory forever.

unfortunately moments like the one you and harry had finally shared don’t last forever, and once harry’s done wiping your breasts off, he leaves a kiss on your forehead, grabs his clothes and leaves you on the sofa.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #one direction #one direction fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #friends to lovers #bestfriend!harry #fine line album #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles icons #harry styles one shot #writing #one direction smut

710 notes · View notes

canmom · 3 years

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some halloween movies

watched the original 1973 The WIcker Man w @lyravelocity and friends... that was amazing, it was so funny seeing Christopher Lee in his 70s hair, and the island cultists just leading this stick in the mud cop in circles were incredibly entertaining.

although i knew the general concept of the movie, i didn’t realise the cop was such a devout christian, which created an interesting vibe where he’s not just there to enforce The Law but appalled at islanders’ deviations from Christianity and kind of sees it as his duty to impose correct religion on them all. his looks of disgust and disapproval at all the maypole dancing and such are so fun; he does such a hilariously bad job of showing up to impose colonial law, trying to constantly threaten people despite having no backup whatsoever, which really makes you sympathise with the human sacrifice cult lmao. after all they know how to have fun even if they are all fucking folk singers sdfsdf. definitely reminded me of growing up in glastonbury, i am pretty sure i have danced around a maypole at least a few times even if they probably didn’t explain the phallic symbolism in class sdfsdf. anyway, really glad to have actually seen that movie. wasn’t the vibe i was expecting at all. also some really beautiful shooting.

then Mogs showed me From Beyond (1986), which was so tropey I kind of initially figured it was some like, 2000s nostalgiacore parody. but no apparently movies were just like that back then? anyway the body horror effects were interesting, especially to like, compare them with what i’ve seen in toku movies - keita amemiya etc. there was an odd little BDSM subtheme where it was like, eager to get the lead actress dressed up in leather and threaten her with various kinds of sexual domination (which I feel like would make Lovecraft have an aneurysm lmao) but also it had to disavow it like, it’s the deviant desires of the villain who tortures women because he’s impotent (???) or the effect of evil dimensional pineal gland worms. anyway fun to see what like, all those synthwave bands are riffing on (”humans are such easy prey” is the title of a Perturbator song). and you get the weird anxieties about “the streets” (voiced by the Black cop who inevitably dies first), you get the final girl, it’s like... all these tropes I’ve read about presented without any irony, kind of an odd experience sdsfdsf. it’s interesting like, how modern it seemed to look, something about the coloured lights and shooting on film.

anyway now we’re watching Phantom of the Paradise (1974), so i’ll report back on that in a bit...

#film

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headheartbellarke · 4 years

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LIGHT A FIRE IN MY EYES | Owen Patrick Joyner

PAIRING(S): Charlie Gillespie’s sister!Reader x Owen Patrick Joyner

WARNING(S): fluff, angst

WORDS: 3.4k

SUMMARY: where Y/N is charlie gillespie’s sister, and while living with him and owen, unexpected feelings rise up. (im so bad at these)

READER’S POV

A rhythmic knock on my bedroom door breaks me out of my trance. I push my glasses further up my nose and close my physics textbook, dropping my pencil between the pages to bookmark it. Pushing myself off the chair, I stretch my arms above my head – I’ve been sitting at my desk for about five hours now, trying to revise everything for my exam tomorrow. I walk over to my door, and unlock it, and I’m greeted by my brother, Charlie. He takes in my appearance and frowns.

“I thought you were still sleeping. When did you get up?”

“Uhh…” I trail off, looking behind me at the clock mounted on the wall opposite to me. 10:30 AM. “About 5, yeah.”

I turn back and notice my brother widening his eyes. “Are you okay, little one?”

I’m not a morning person, under no circumstances ever. Growing up, I’ve always been the last person to wake up – Charlie being the first. So, I guess it’s awfully unusual for him to hear this.

“This is college, honey. You wouldn’t know.” I shrug at him and he grins. I’ve always hated the fact that he got a free pass from college, since he’s an actor.

That is also the reason why he’s here. We grew up in Canada – Charlie, me, my two other older brothers and my twin sister Meghan. Growing up, Charlie, Meghan and I were inseparable – since we’re closer in age – Charlie’s only two years older than Meghan and me. But I had to leave home for college – I got into Caltech, and that was not an opportunity I was about to give up, even though Charlie protested so many times that I’m apparently the baby of the house and I shouldn’t go to another country alone.

Now, he’s living with me – he is shooting for his show, Julie and The Phantoms (proud sister, here), and they have a couple of scenes and some recording to do in LA, so he’s staying in my apartment for a week, along with his friend, co-star and roommate back in Vancouver, Owen. Previously, they lived with me for more than a month when they had to go through musical bootcamp or something for the sake of the show. (So proud.)

That was also when I’d developed a massive crush on Owen.

Charlie was living with me for a good two weeks when, one day, he took me out to meet the rest of the cast. (Who were all lovely, by the way.) On the drive there, he told me that Owen had been living in a hotel since he’s originally from Oklahoma, and that Charlie’s thinking of asking him to come live with us, if I was okay with that. Of course, I had said yes. I had ample space in my duplex apartment and living alone is boring. So, Charlie introduced me to Owen and we immediately hit it off. Of course, I thought that he was incredibly attractive when we met. But I meet a lot of attractive people at university.

Then, we started living together, and I realized how amazing Owen actually is. He’s an absolute dork – but he’s also funny, very kind, thoughtful, compassionate, altruistic and so, so nice. Both of us have a lot in common, and there’s always been this unsaid, unacknowledged chemistry between us that a lot of the other cast members had picked up on. (Not my brother, though. He would have killed Owen.) We had so much fun when we were together – he turned everything into an adventure. The best part was that I got to be myself, completely, whenever I was around him. I got to talk about whatever I wanted with him – he never, ever judged me.

Before they went to Vancouver when production for the show began, we had a last night out with the rest of the cast and a bunch of family members – except the kids. We went to this bar near my college. I was so, so drunk and then I suddenly started feeling queasy and Owen offered to take me home since Charlie was in the same position. There was so much traffic and Owen and I kept singing whatever song was on the radio to pass the time – LA traffic – when we were both leaning across our seats and we started kissing. I remember feeling like I would burst from the happiness and the softness, the affection, the admiration that he had in his eyes when he looked at me.

Of course, I fell asleep pretty soon after the traffic dissipated and woke up next morning to find him packing for his trip. That was when I’d realized that no matter how much I liked him, we could never be together. First of all, long distance relationships almost never work out, and secondly, he’s my brother’s best friend. That was why I chose to just give him a quick hug goodbye and head to college – without even bothering to drop them off at the airport, or even talking to him.

He texted and called a couple of times after that, too. But I never responded, never even opened any of his texts – because I knew that once I do that, I would definitely call him. That went on for a week, and the only time we spoke was when he’d texted me from Savannah’s phone: why are you ignoring me? I texted back all the reasons why we couldn’t ever be together, and I didn’t hear from him for another week, until Charlie called me the day before yesterday, telling me that they have a couple of scenes to do in LA, along with some recording stuff, and they’ll stay with me for a few days. I had to approve, or else Charlie might figure out everything.

They arrived yesterday, and I think that I’ve done a pretty good job of ignoring him so far.

Charlie’s voice breaks me out of my train of thoughts. “You have exams or what?”

I nod. “Applied physics, tomorrow. Are you going out?” I ask, pointing at his dark blue jeans.

“Madi and I are writing this song together. You’ll love it.”

I smile at him. “If I’m not the first one to hear it –”

He hums, a chuckle escaping him. I lean against the doorframe, as he continues, “Owen just woke up. He doesn’t start his scenes until tomorrow, so I told him to take care of you today, while I’m away.”

I ignore the way my heart skips a beat at the mere mention of his name and flatten my lips. “I’m 19, Charlie, I can –”

“Take care of yourself, blah blah blah. I don’t care.”

I roll my eyes, and playfully shove him forward. He stumbles a few steps backwards and furrows his brows at me. “Ouch!”

“Are you taking my car?”

He nods. “Where –”

“In the magnetic key holder on the fridge.”

“Okay, sis.” He smiles at me, leaning forward to ruffle my hair – which makes it even messier than it already was. “Go away!” I grumble, trying to pat his hand away. “Never!” He calls out, turning toward the kitchen to grab the keys.

I shake my head and laugh. “Love you!”

He shouts back, without looking behind at me. “Love you most!”

****

The delicious smell of pancakes reminds me of the fact that I haven’t eaten since last night. I drag my feet to the kitchen, mentally preparing myself for the person I’m about to encounter in there.

“Uh, hi…” I hesitantly call out, entering the kitchen – and notice a very shirtless Owen, with his very shirtless back turned towards me. He turns around at the sound of my voice, and a few strands of golden blonde hair fall across his eyes. I long to reach my hand across and push those away.

Instead, he himself does that as his eyes flit over me, and a look of pain flashes through his eyes. I hate that I’m the cause of that.

“I was wondering how you would ignore me when we’re living in the same apartment.”

“I deserve that.” I walk over to the stove to stand beside him.

He ignores me and goes back to flipping golden brown pancakes which smell amazing, but all I can focus on is the curve of his back, the hollow space between his collarbones, and the way his hands grip on the pan a little too hard. I feel a warmth course through my body and find myself missing the way he used to wrap his arms around me from behind in the mornings when Charlie was still asleep.

“Owen,” I whisper, and he inhales sharply at that. “Please. I don’t want things to be like this – I don’t want us to be like this.”

He uses his spatula to lift the pancake and puts it atop other pancakes on a plate beside the stove and turns it off. He turns around to face me, biting his lip and I think I just had an aneurysm because of the intensity of his gaze.

He sighs, leaning against the counter. “Y/N. You made it pretty clear that there would never be an ‘us.’”

“I know. But we can still be friends, right? Like we were before… everything.”

“See, that’s the thing. I can’t. Y/N, do you have any idea what you’ve put me through for the past two weeks?” He snaps.

“Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?” I reply, hotly. “Owen, it broke me inside to ask you to stay away. Do you have any idea how much I care about you?”

“No! I don’t, because you don’t talk to me, Y/N.”

“I told you, there is no point in doing long distance –”

“That’s bullshit, Y/N, and you know it, too. I think you’re just too scared to be with me because you think that I’d break your heart, leave you alone or hurt you. But that’s the thing, Y/N – I won’t do any of that to you, because that’s exactly what you’re doing to me.” He crosses his arms across his chest.

I breathe out shakily, running a hand through my curls. “That’s not true –”

Owen scoffs. “Please, Y/N. I know you.”

I lower my eyes from his because I can’t handle the way he’s looking at me.

“Y/N, do you know how fucking hard the past week’s been for me? I can’t even talk to anyone about it, because the only person I wanna talk to is your brother and we all know what will happen if I do that. He’s my best friend, and I’ve been lying to him for weeks, pretending that I like this hairdresser, when in reality, I’m head over heels for his sister. I can’t tell him that I can’t stop thinking about her, and that she’s the only person that can calm me down when I get anxious on set. I can’t tell him that she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and it’s killing me inside to not talk to her!”

He finishes, breathing out heavily. I look at his eyes and notice that they’re gleaming.

“Wait, what hairdresser?”

He scoffs, annoyed. “Seriously, Y/N?”

I shrug and breathe deeply, trying to stop myself from taking his hands in my own. “You know, there are so many guys at school that ask me out, but I can’t go out with any of them, because guess what, they’re not you. I like you so much, Owen, so, so much, but I can’t do anything about it – because you’re right. I’m scared. I’m terrified that you’ll leave me, because I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a really long time. I’m so scared that one day you’ll wake up and realize that I’m not who you want anymore. I’m scared that maybe you’ll hurt me or meet someone else in Vancouver. I’m scared about so many things because that’s exactly how much I care about you, Owen!”

I take a step further and we are standing mere inches apart. I can feel him breathe out raggedly and see the curve of his nose and his darkened eyes flickering to my lips.

“I would never, ever do that to you, Y/N. You mean a lot to me. Please, please believe me.” He whispers out, and I tell myself to stop, to turn back, to go into my room but instead I just stand there and watch him exhale out, and I know he’s feeling anxious. I lift a hand to his face and cup his cheek in the palm of my hand and he leans his face onto my hand, resting his right hand over mine. The gesture calms the both of us down, and I know, in that moment, that I believe him. That he, us – is a risk worth taking.

“Your hands are so cold.” He whispers. I nod. “Yours are warm.”

Both of us stand there, in the kitchen, trying to make sense of what just happened – trying to hold on to this moment. A silence engulfs the both of us, as I sort through my thoughts.

“Owen,” I whisper. He flicks his eyes to mine. “Promise me you won’t do any of that.”

He raises his left hand, jutting out his little finger. I raise my other hand too, and he wraps his little finger around mine and whispers back, “Pinkie promise.”

“Okay.” I whisper, neither of us daring to uncurl our fingers or look anywhere else.

“Promise me that you wouldn’t leave me for some future tech billionaire.”

I scrunch my face up at that. “What? No!”

“Promise me you’d call –”

“Every single day, Owen. You too.”

Both of us nod together, and he lifts his other hand to tuck a curl that had previously escaped from my actually-messy-and-not-cute bun. “You’re so beautiful.”

I smile, and a tear escapes my eyes – Owen rubbing it away with his thumb. I lean forward, standing on my tiptoes and rest my hands against his bare chest for support as I press my lips to his. He smiles against the kiss, and I feel as if a zoo has gone wild in my stomach. I feel warmth and happiness course through my veins as Owen deepens the kiss, the intense longing in the both of us for each other clawing its way out to the surface. It’s almost as if I’m drinking water for the first time in a week. He tastes like banana pancakes, chocolate syrup and everything good in the world. I press myself against him, wrapping my arms around neck while he does the same around my torso. It frightens me a little how well our bodies fit against each other – but it makes me feel strong knowing that I have an amazing person who genuinely cares about me.

****

CHARLIE’S POV

Charlie unlocked the door to his sister’s apartment, mentally noting to remind her of the fact that her car desperately needs a wash. He enters the foyer, and drops the keys in a bowl, kicking off his shoes.

Suddenly, he pauses, noticing how incredibly quiet the apartment is – which is unlike Y/N. She always has music blasting or the TV running – she hates the quiet. He quickly walks into the living room and almost screams in surprise.

His little sister and his best friend are curled up on the sofa, their backs towards him. Y/N is lying on Owen’s chest and she has an arm wrapped around his torso while Owen’s arms are interlocked at the front, holding her against his body. Their tangled legs peek from underneath the quilt that Charlie and Y/N’s mother knit for her youngest daughter last Christmas. She laughs at something that Owen whispers into her ear, and he presses a kiss to her forehead, and they look at each other with so much adoration that Charlie has to look away.

He sighs, mentally cursing himself for being so, so stupid. How could he have ignored the signs? Charlie remembers Y/N and Owen meeting, both in a daze, both smiling a little too much and Y/N walking with a skip in her steps. He remembers them talking for hours on end, binging Brooklyn 99 on weekends, and always hanging out with each other whenever they went to the same parties. He remembers that morning three weeks ago when he’d woken up late, and gone to the kitchen only to find the duo springing apart from each other, both erupting in a flurry of coughs and laughs, as if he’d just walked on them robbing a bank – Owen had explained that he had apparently broken a glass. He remembers the way Owen would look at her, as if she had just done something miraculous. He remembers the way Y/N would look at his best friend, as if he was made of everything good in the world.

Most of all, he remembers how Owen sulked whenever he was alone back in Vancouver. He remembers how Owen constantly declined to go out with that cute hairdresser. He remembers how Owen sometimes seemed out of it. He remembers how Owen would sprint whenever Charlie called his sister. He remembers how Owen would keep checking his phone every few minutes in between takes.

Charlie also remembers his sister asking about how Owen is when they talked on the phone, and how her voice seemed like she was asking something that was forbidden, something that was evil. He remembers how she would always hang up the phone whenever she heard Owen’s voice. He remembers her always declining his invites to go to Vancouver.

How could he have been so dumb? The signs were right there. He lived with Owen, for god’s sake! Charlie feels an array of emotions. He’s always hated Y/N’s choice in men, despised anyone putting their hands on his baby sister’s body.

But, to see them like this – to see Y/N look so safe, so comfortable in Owen’s arms, he can’t help but feel relief flood into his system. Because he knows his best friend, and he knows what kind of person he is. And now, he thinks just how much sense they make together. Sure, Owen is kind of stupid, reckless, impulsive, and clumsy – but so is Y/N – well, she’s not stupid, he thinks. She’s the smartest person in their family. But she has a fire within her – and his best friend matches that fire. Charlie thinks of the fact that they complement each other so nicely, both are caring, passionate, and kind-hearted. Of course, they would fall for each other. It just makes so much sense – they make so much sense.

Still, Charlie feels hurt that neither of them bothered to tell him about it. (even though he won’t admit it, it’s understandable, really – considering the way he’s bugged his sister about her previous relationships.)

He clears his throat and the duo on the couch jump apart, both flushed and with their eyes widened. Owen stands up, moving away from couch, while Y/N looks at her brother as if he’s a ghost.

A silence falls over the apartment. Y/N finally says, “How’d you – how’d you get in?”

He shrugs. “I had a spare key.”

Owen looks between his girlfriend and his best friend, with widened eyes. “Charlie, I’m so sorry –”

Suddenly, Charlie laughs, swatting at the air. “Pfft. You think I’m gonna be the weird brother who kills his best friend for dating his sister? Come on, this isn’t a TV show. I’m actually really happy for you guys – I ignored all the signs these past weeks, but I see them now. Of course, it’s really weird for me, but I love the both of you so much. Owen, relax, I’m not gonna kill you. Dude. Just don’t kiss or anything in front of me, cause that’s gross. Ew. You know what, don’t do that at all. And I’ll kill you, Owen, if you ever hurt her, I swear. I’ll put poison in your waffles. I just don’t understand why –”

Charlie is cut off by his sister tackling him in a hug. He wraps his arms around her body, as she whispers, “I love you, big brother.”

He murmurs, “Love you most, little one.” He catches Owen’s eye who looks at him with gratefulness and a little smile.

****

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lady-amethyst18 · 3 years

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I'll hear you sing

Emma paced back and forth in her room. On her bed laid a black choir dress, a fake pearl necklace, and a compact of blush. She was getting ready for her choir concert this evening. But today was more nerve-wracking than ever. Because she was chosen as the lead singer for the last song of the show. She got lots of praise from her teachers and peers, saying that she had a beautiful voice and was perfect for the solo act. She even practiced the song every day to herself and memorized the lyrics all by heart. But when the day finally came, she felt like she was going to melt into a puddle of goo.

What if she froze out there in front of everyone? What if she messes up and forgets her cue? What if she hits a wrong note? What if the audience doesn't like her singing? What if she completely embarrasses herself out there? She started pacing faster. She held her cheeks in her hands, and her stomach started flip-flopping. "Stop stressing, Emma." She said to herself. "Stop stressing!" She repeated. She looked into the mirror, looking at her nervous face. She shook her head and groaned loudly. "I need to go for a walk." She said as she started heading downstairs and out the door.

She walked through the neighborhood, trying to clear her head of the nerves of singing solo for the first time. She still felt butterflies in her stomach, and she could swear she was starting to sweat. Perfect... She was going to look like a mess by the time she gets to the concert. She wondered if she had enough time to take a shower by the time she got back. She brushed her hair out of the way, closing her eyes while still walking. "I have to pull it together. Maybe I can just tell the teacher that I can't be the lead singer. Or perhaps I can just pretend to lose my voice and they'll get someone else to sing. Or-" She was so lost in thought that she bumped into someone. Her eyes shot open as she finally snapped back to reality. "Oh my! I'm so sorry! I-I wasn't paying attention." She apologized. "It's ok. No harm done, dear." Said the voice.

She looked up to see who she bumped into. She followed the red and white pants up to the white and gold cloak until finally, her eyes reached the top of the person's head. A white top hat with a red strap pulled over his eyes. "Balan?" She called. Balan smiled widely upon seeing the young girl. "Emma!" He exclaimed. "What a pleasant surprise! I didn't expect to be bumping into you out here."

"I should be saying the same thing." She pointed out. "What are you doing out here?"

"I was just checking up on one of the latest visitors. Their hearts are healing just fine." He looked at the girl, who started to avoid eye contact with him. "But what about you? Seems like your heart could use some cheering itself." Emma rubbed the back of her head. "I just wanted to step out for a moment to clear my head. I've got too much on my mind." She said.

Balan focused on the girl's eyes. They had a look of apprehension and the glistening sweat on her brow added to his suspicion. "Emma," He called out softly. "I'm saying this with love, darling. But you look like you're about to have a heart attack. Why don't you come back with me to the theater? Tell me what's bothering you so much." Emma looked around the corners. The theater is nowhere to be seen. "Uh... Where is the theater?" She asked. Balan smirked as he held Emma's shoulder and snapped his fingers. "Right here!" He announced. It was in the same place where Emma initially found the theater. A brightly lit alleyway through the overgrown vegetation. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at Balan's goofiness. "Now then. Ladies first." Balan humbly opened the door and gestured her inside.

He leads her inside to the lounge area. The room was quiet and well decorated with a dusk color pallet that painted the walls. The chairs and couch had plush red velvet seats with golden buttons as decoration. A water pitcher with a few glasses stood on a tray with several tea flavors and what looked to be a bowl of miscellaneous fruit. "I don't think I've been to this part of the theater. It's nice." Emma complimented. "Why, thank you. Lance and I decorated it ourselves. Why don't you sit down and relax? Take a seat wherever you want." Balan said, taking a seat on the couch. Emma decided to take a chair that was sitting away from the table.

"Now then," Balan spoke, crossing his legs. "Why don't you tell me what's going on? Why is it you look so nervous?" Emma once again avoided eye contact. She clasped her hands and held them in her knees. "I've... Got a choir concert to go to... And I got the part as lead singer for the final song." She replied. "Oh, how wonderful! This must be a big moment for you." Balan cheered. But Emma shook her head. "It's too big!" She exclaimed. "I've never sung solo ever before in my life! I get my teachers and choir classmates like my singing, but what about everyone else? I feel like there's so much riding on this moment!" She stood up and started to pace around again.

Balan just nodded as Emma continued her tangent. "Nervous sweating, fast heartbeat, tense posture, thinking about how the performance could go wrong. Yep. Seems to me you've got a terrible yet common case of stage fright." He spoke up. "You think!?" She yelled back. "What if I hit a sour note?! Or what if I miss my cue?! Or what if the audience doesn't like my singing?! There's too much pressure; I can't stand it! I don't think I can do it! If I have to sing lead, I think I'm going to pass out and die!" She sat back down in the chair, fanning herself and hyperventilating. "Ok, ok, relax. Freaking out isn't going to help. You're going to give yourself an aneurysm, and then what will you do?" Balan stood next to the girl, handing her a paper bag to breathe into. To which she snatched it out of his hand and began huffing and puffing into it.

She continued this for about a minute before she finally caught her breath. The maestro thought this was ultimately a good time to get a word in edge-wise. "Emma," He started. "What if I told you I, too, get stage fright?" Emma paused and looked at him with wide eyes. "What? YOU get stage fright? The maestro of positivity himself get's stage fright?" She asked. Balan nodded. "Yep. Sweating, tensing up, thinking about how it could all go wrong, even getting butterflies in my stomach." Emma looked doubtful. "You do NOT get butterflies."

"No, no! I really do get butterflies. See?" He pounds his stomach and spat out a butterfly. Emma watched in amusement as she watched it flutter away. She tried her best to hide a giggle. "Balan... Th-that's not funny." She said, restraining her laughter. "Oh, come on! You're laughing. Look, I'll do it again!" He pounded his stomach again and spat out another butterfly. A few bursts of laughter left her. "Balan, stop! This isn't helpful!" She laughed. Balan laughed along with her.

"Alright, all joking aside." He said at last. "I used to get terrible stage fright when I was just starting out at helping people restore their balance. I was about... Oh, 300 years old until I finally grew out of it." Emma cocked her head to the side, wondering where Balan was going with the story. "So... How did you grow out of it?" She asked. Balan shrugged. "Oh, it wasn't easy. I could barely get through the introduction without my knees knocking. Sometimes I would get so stressed I would stop rhyming. But you know, after all that time, I was finally starting to enjoy it. The longer you're on stage, and the more you do it, the thought of being afraid kind of dies. I also had a secret hack that could help with my nerves."

"And what was that?" Emma asked.

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Uh, sure."

Balan looked back and forth before kneeling down and whispering in Emma's ear. "Don't tell anyone I said this, but I always had someone cheering me on in the audience. And do you know who that was?" Emma shook her head. "It was none other than Lance." Emma's jaw dropped. She knew that Balan and Lance had a sibling relationship, but they were never two peas in a pod. "No!" She exclaimed. "Really? You're pulling my leg." Balan smiled. "It's true. This was back when we were going easier on each other, quite long before the bouts. For some reason, it comforted me knowing he was there. Now, obviously, our relationship has changed over a few millennia, but I never forgot how much he helped me." Emma smiled. It made her heart grow knowing that Lance still had a heart in there somewhere despite being a negative maestro.

"Now, don't tell Lance I said this, ok?" Balan pointed out. "He doesn't want anyone to know he has feelings. He says it will kill his stoic reputation." Emma zipped her lips and held out a hand, telling him that she promised. "I think it's thoughtful that someone would always be in the audience cheering you on." She paused for a second, thinking about what the maestro was talking about. "... Balan," She started. "Would you... Watch my concert tonight?" Balan smiled widely. "Aha! You finally picked up what I was putting down! Of course, I would love to hear you sing! What time does it start?"

"It starts at 6:30."

"Oh, that's an hour and a half from now. We better get you there quick!" The maestro looked at the girl, seeing that she still had sweat on her brow and her hair was messy after panicking about the show. "Hmm... But first, let's get you dolled up before you go to that concert."

The maestro snapped his fingers, making Emma's choir dress, necklace, and blush appear. He draped the dress and necklace over his arm while holding the compact in his hand. "Head to the bathroom and clean yourself up, dear. You still have time to clean up before you go on stage." Emma smiled as he leads her to the bathroom. He handed over the dress and compact as he waited outside for the teenager to finish up cleaning. A few minutes had passed, and Emma took a shower, blowdried and brushed her hair, put on her dress, and applied her makeup.

Balan looked over as she opened the door. "Why, Emma!" He cheered. "You look lovely! Though something is missing." He looked closely at her, trying to pinpoint what was missing. "Oh!" She announced. "My necklace! All the girls in the choir are meant to wear these fake pearl necklaces." Balan dangled the necklace with his fingers. "You're meant to wear these?" He asked.

"Yeah."

Balan scoffed. "You're not going to wear this! The star doesn't deserve FAKE pearls. Come here; I have something better." He tossed the fake necklace aside. He clasped his hands together and rubbed them firmly. When he opened his hands, a real pearl necklace appeared. Emma stood in awe. "Wow! Is this real?" She asked. Balan smiled with pride. "It's the genuine article. May I?" Emma nodded as Balan put the necklace around her neck. "There you go!" He said. "Now you're perfect!"

Emma's smiled widened. She already began to feel much better. "You promise you'll be there when it's my turn to sing?" She asked. "Cross my heart." The maestro promised as he made an X mark around his heart. "Now, go on. Your teachers and peers will want to see you. I can't wait to hear you sing." He said as he leads her to the door. "Thanks, Balan. I hope to see you there." She said as she left, hoping the maestro would keep his word.

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

The concert was nearly over. It was time for the final song and Emma's lead role. She scanned the audience, looking for the top-hatted being. "Emma!" Called out a voice. It was Emma's choir director. "Are you ready for your solo?" She asked. The girl looked away. She felt her chest get tight, and she felt butterflies in her stomach again. "I'm... Expecting someone. In the audience. They promised they'd hear me sing. I can't find them." She continued to scan the audience, hoping to find her friend.

The director knelt down to her level. "I know you're nervous, Emma. But I'm sure that your friend, whoever they are, are out there in the audience right now, just waiting to hear your voice. And I know you'll be the brightest star out of anyone tonight. Have confidence in yourself, sweetheart." The whole choir group started going on the stage. "Take your place, Emma. Don't be scared. You can do it." The teacher held up two thumbs as Emma climbed up on stage.

As the curtains pulled away, the audience clapped their hands. Emma took a silent but deep breath, trying to maintain her composure. As the music started, she heard a slight sound. Her eyes wandered the auditorium until she looked in the front row. A man with seafoam green hair and a handsome white face with purple eye shadow. It was Balan! He undid the glamour for her. Seeing him, her heart instantly lifted as she started her song.

Emma could feel every ounce of nervousness melt away as she sang the lyrics. The more she carried on with the song, the less she noted the people in the auditorium. Dare she say it, she was enjoying herself. When the song was over, the crowd stood up and cheered. A single rose was thrown on stage. Emma picked it up and looked at the man in the front row. Balan clapped his hands and winked at her. Silently telling her, he knew she could do it. The teenager held back her tears of joy and smiled widely as she bowed for the audience.

#balan wonderworld #fanfiction #Emma Cole #Balan

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kiribakuhappiness · 4 years

Text

TMI: Overheard at a Sleepover

by KiriBakuHappiness

Bakugou hears a little more than he's supposed to when Kirishima has Kaminari and Sero over for a sleepover.

KrBkMonth2020 - Day 2 Prompt; Sleepover!

Read under the cut!

Bakugou wasn’t eavesdropping. He wasn’t the type of person to do something like that – he didn’t care enough about anyone to eavesdrop on their pointless conversations.

Okay, there was that one time he’d eavesdropped on Icy-Hot at the Sports Festival. Once. But that hadn’t even really been on purpose. He’d just been wandering around, trying to blow off some steam, and before he knew it, he’d stumbled across Deku and that peppermint haired bastard muttering in an empty hallway and like, who wouldn’t be fucking curious, alright? And it wasn’t like he was just going to walk away once he’d realized what it was that they were talking about.

It was the same shit here.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on Kirishima and Dunce-Head while they had some kind of childish sleepover or whatever the fuck they were doing in Kirishima’s room at 11.30pm. He just happened to be taking a much-needed nap on his balcony when the sound of a door slamming open had startled him awake.

“Geez Kiri, don’t you ever open this thing? You need to air this place out!” Dunce-Head’s irritating voice filtered over to Bakugou’s balcony from next door.

Kirishima laughed somewhere inside his room. “Nah, not really. I’m pretty loud and Bakugou almost always has his door open. I don’t want to bother him, you know?”

Tch. Bakugou scowled, still hunched down into his chair. He supposed he should be grateful. Kirishima was loud as fuck. Whether he was beating on his punching bag or yelling about some dumb wrestling show on his laptop or fucking whatever else he did in there; he was the loudest motherfucker in this building. Still, it wasn’t like Bakugou had ever complained about it, he wasn’t a little bitch, so what the fuck? Why would Kirishima try so hard to make it more ‘bearable’ for him?

“Anything for your boyfriend~ huh?” Dunce-Head said in a sing-song voice.

Bakugou heard the sound of something ‘thump’ quietly in the other room.

“Dude, shut up! You know I don’t like it when you joke like that,” Kirishima said. “And please get away from the door! He might hear you!”

“Nah, his balcony is all dark. He’s probably passed out by now. Doesn’t he go to bed at like, six?”

“Still,” Kirishima muttered. “And you know he doesn’t actually go to bed, right? He goes to his room yeah, but I still hear him moving around sometimes. I just think he likes his alone time.” Bakugou could hear Kirishima shrug. “Nothing wrong with that.”

Dunce-Head snorted. “Could you maybe not try to defend him all the time? Like, yeah fine, everyone needs their alone time, but it’d be nice if he at least tried to hang out with the rest of our class. We’re really not that bad.”

Another voice suddenly spoke up. Bakugou hadn’t even realized Tape-Face was with them. Motherfucker was quiet. “He does try, sometimes.” There was a beat of silence, probably from shock, before Tape-Face continued with, “Only when Kirishima convinces him to, though.”

A round of chuckles echoed from the room.

“C’mon guys… Please stop,” Kirishima grumbled. His voice was muffled, like he had his face smooshed into a pillow or something.

Bakugou tensed in his seat. He should probably go inside. He didn’t need to hear any of this shit. Whatever Kirishima and his dumb friends talked about wasn’t any of his business, nor did he care to be a part of it.

Still, they were talking about him. Did they do that a lot? Dunce-Head made it seem like they did. Not that he cared or anything, it would just be weird as fuck if it was true.

Bakugou blinked over at the other balcony, where light from Kirishima’s dorm room poured out of the recently opened door. He hadn’t moved since he’d been abruptly woken up and he hovered on the edge of his seat, waiting for them to start talking again before he went back into his room so they wouldn’t hear him sliding his door open.

“What other kinds of things have you convinced him to do, Kiri?” Dunce-Head sounded like he was having an aneurysm with how hard he was laughing.

Bakugou glowered at the other balcony.

The fuck? What did that even mean? People didn’t convince him to do shit, he did whatever the fuck he wanted! Sure, sometimes Kirishima fucking nagged him to hang out with the idiots and sometimes he fucking caved, but that was just because he didn’t have anything else going on. If he was busy, then obviously he didn’t fucking go. It didn’t have anything to do with Kirishima and his dumbass puppy dog eyes and pouting lip.

Fuck it. He was staying now. They were talking about him, so he had every goddamn right to know what they were saying. He clenched his fists in his lap and silently seethed.

“Oh man. No offense, but I really don’t want to know what kind of shit you and Bakugou get up to during your, ahem, study sessions,” Tape-Face laughed.

“You guys fucking suck,” Kirishima whined. “We don’t do anything like that and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah. You want to though,” Dunce-Head teased, and he sounded so confident that for a moment, Bakugou’s brain short-circuited.

What the fuck? What the hell were they going on about? What ‘stuff’ did Kirishima want to convince him to do?

It wasn’t stuff like…

It couldn’t be stuff like…

No.

That was so fucking stupid.

Why the fuck were Dunce-Head and Tape-Face bothering Kirishima like this? Weren’t they supposed to be friends or something? Sure, Bakugou wasn’t the greatest friend to have. He wasn’t like, sensitive to people’s feelings and shit, but even he could tell that Kirishima was struggling to get through this conversation without dying.

But why?

“I’m done talking about this,” Kirishima stated, trying to sound firm. His voice wobbled though, like he was physically drowning in embarrassment.

“Dude, c’mon, we’re just messing with you,” Dunce-Head complained.

“Alright, alright, alright, we won’t talk about Blasty and his super muscular biceps anymore as long as you don’t,” Tape-Face teased.

Another loud ‘thud’ echoed from the room. This time, it was followed by a round of laughter that included Kirishima’s own boisterous laugh.

Bakugou stared at the balcony with his mouth slightly open. Slowly, his gaze dropped down to his bare arms. He flexed in the dark. Kirishima talked about his muscles? Like… a lot? Enough to warrant teasing from his stupid friends?

Red-faced, Bakugou shot to his feet and scrambled for his door amidst the rambunctious cacophony of yelling and banging happening in the room next door.

What the fuck what the fuck what –

He heard Kirishima go out onto his balcony around two in the morning. He heard him yawn loudly and scrap the chair along the ground instead of just picking it up like Bakugou kept telling him to before he settled down again. He heard him sigh wistfully, probably staring up at the moon with that dumbass look of adoration and contentment on his face.

Bakugou heard it all because he couldn’t fucking sleep.

He’d stayed up, staring at his dark ceiling and chewing on the inside of his mouth and glaring because what the fuck? Why was Kirishima always talking about him? It wasn’t even in a bad way, which Bakugou would have been able to handle better than… whatever this was.

Why was he talking about Bakugou’s muscles to his friends? Why were they supposedly so tried of hearing about it that they felt comfortable enough to joke around about it? What other things did Kirishima want to convince Bakugou to do?

Why did Bakugou give a fuck?

It was torture, listening to their muffled voices on the other side of the wall and not being able to know what they were saying. Because Bakugou didn’t fucking eavesdrop but what the fuck? What if the conversation had fallen back on him again? On his muscles? Why did that fill him with such a weird mixture of mortification and pride? What the fuck what the fuck?

Kirishima sighed another happy sound and Bakugou sneered.

Fucker.

He threw his blankets back and shot to his feet before he could convince himself that this was a bad idea. Because it was. This was so fucking stupid. And yet, here he was. Slamming his curtains aside and stepping out onto his balcony with little regard for how late it was, smirking in satisfaction when Kirishima let out a little yelp of surprise.

“Geez dude! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Kirishima said, hand over his chest, before he laughed easily. Like Bakugou’s loud disturbance to his peaceful night was anything but unwanted.

Bakugou’s chest tightened. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck.

He glared. “You guys were loud as fuck. I couldn’t fucking sleep.”

Bakugou had never seen Kirishima’s face pale so quickly before. He tried to keep his smirking to a minimum, but it was hard. Kirishima glanced back into his own room, where Dunce-Head and Tape-Face were no doubt sleeping if the thunderous snores were anything to go off of. He looked back at Bakugou, cheeks tinted just enough to be seen in the moonlight, before he laughed again. This time it sounded strained and weird.

“Sorry!” Kirishima squeaked out. He stood to his feet and Bakugou just realized the blanket he had wrapped around his shoulders like a fucking cape, before Kirishima approached the railing that separated their balconies. “I tried to get them to be quiet and to keep the door closed, but they really didn’t want to listen to me.”

Bakugou scowled and shoved his hands into his pockets before he moved over to his own railing. He didn’t do it on purpose. He always fucking gravitated towards Kirishima. He didn’t know why. When they were chatting during their study breaks or resting after sparring or, hell, sometimes even when they were soaking in the bath, Bakugou would find himself inching closer.

He didn’t even realize he was fucking doing it until right this very second.

“Tch, whatever. You should get some fucking friends that actually listen to you.”

Kirishima laughed again, as though Bakugou had said something funny, which he most certainly fucking didn’t. He glowered as Kirishima shook his head and smiled fondly at him. “Those aren’t friends, dude. Those are lackies.”

Bakugou stared. Fuck. Maybe? He supposed Kirishima very rarely ever fucking listened to him when he told him to shut up or fuck off or go away. Was that friendship? It was fucking horrible.

… Was it, though?

He huffed and pulled his sweaty hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. “Whatever.”

It happened so quickly. Like, almost too quickly for Bakugou to even notice it. Maybe a part of him was subconsciously looking for it, armed to the teeth with all sorts of brand-new information he’d been trying like hell to forget over the past few hours. But it was unmistakable, now that he knew it.

Kirishima’s eyes flitted down to his arms before shooting back up to meet his gaze once more.

Oh. Right. Shit.

Bakugou swallowed hard. Fuck. What the fuck what the fuck. Kirishima totally dug his arms. Holy shit. What was Bakugou even supposed to do with that kind of fucking intel? Did he do anything about it at all? Was it even that big of a deal? It wasn’t like Bakugou was blind; Kirishima was a fucking tank. His back muscles looked like he could get hit with a fucking train and still be in tip-top shape to walk around shirtless at the beach.

But, fuck. Kirishima was always shirtless. Everyone saw his back muscles. Everyone probably stared at them, from time to time. It was fucking hard not to. They were intense.

Fuck. Shit. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Bakugou?” Kirishima’s eyebrows knitted together in concern. “Are you okay?” He let out a little breathless laugh, like he was nervous or embarrassed, as he rubbed an awkward hand up and down the back of his neck. “What are you thinking so hard about? You’re just kind of staring at me…”

Bakugou started in surprise. Fuck. He had been staring. Shit, shit, fuck. He had to get out of there. But he couldn’t not say anything. Kirishima had asked him a question so – “Your back muscles are fucking tight.”

What. The. Fuck.

Bakugou turned on his heels and stalked back into his room feeling like his face was going to fucking melt right off because holy shit what the fuck was he even thinking? He slammed the balcony door shut and ripped the curtains over the windows to plunge himself into total darkness.

Kirishima stared at the place where Bakugou had just been, his mouth hanging open in surprise. Slowly, he closed it, and a harsh, happy blush traveled up his neck and into his cheeks. He went back into his room, taking care to close the balcony door as quietly as possible, a stupid grin lingering on his lips as he settled back into bed.

#krbkmonth2020 #kiribaku #kiribaku fic #kiribaku fic recs #bakushima #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #bakugou x kirishima #kiribaku month 2020 #boku no hero academia #kiribakuhappiness drabble prompts

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speechlessxx · 4 years

Text

Call It What You Want (Ransom Drysdale x Reader)

Summary: There’s an unspoken bond between the Reader and Ransom.

Warnings: poorly written SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving), soft Ransom (because i love him idc), bad relationship with parents. This fic was honestly so self-indulgent because I love this song.

Word Count: 3.7k

Loosely inspired by Call It What You Want by (the Queen) Taylor Swift.

Sometimes life felt as if you were playing a Jenga game alone on a table with uneven legs.

For brief moments, everything was normal. Your movements were delicate as you built the tower. Higher and higher it would go, but then you’d stop to admire your work. You would rest your elbows against the surface and accidentally cause the table to shift. The tower would collapse, and you would have to rebuild it again.

However, you never had a stable foundation to begin with. The table was always wobbly. So, time and time again that tower fell. And you’ll have to start over alone.

That was your life.

Your parents were wealthy workaholics. You don’t remember being held or cuddled by your mother or father. You had a revolving door of nannies. None stayed too long so you could form any connection. Your mother would catch them in bed with her husband and terminate their employment. Even through your father’s infidelity, your mother refused to leave him. You remembered her drunkenly admit to you, her 7-year-old, that she stayed because she was afraid of what others would think.

When they weren’t working, they were fighting. You spent nights crying alone in your bedroom as you overheard endless arguments throughout the night. Your parents’ voices would echo through the large house and you’d hear every single insult, threat, and slur.

Your family was sitting upon a tense string that refused to break.

You had no stability – no constancy. You had no siblings either. Your school friends – whether they were from grade school or high school, it didn’t matter. They were all the same – were too self-involved to pay you any mind. You had no shoulder to cry on. No one to kiss the bruises and the scars away. No one to lean on when your life itself felt like it collapsed.

You only had your parents who both resented you because you were the result of a love that they no longer had.

Perhaps, that’s why you and Ransom Drysdale got along so well. Trust-fund brats who were neglected by their wealthy parents. Maybe it was a good thing that you at least had each other.

The closeness between you was surreal. You read one another like an open book whereas others had difficulty even pronouncing your titles. You were each other’s confidant, best friend, and rock. You found in comfort in each other’s mess.

It would be easy to mistake you two as a couple.

Both of you were once touch starved children, so you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. It was in the grazes of your fingertips and the tight embraces where you would snuggle your face in the crook of his neck, and he’d bury his into your hair. Ransom often kissed your wrists and fingers as he toyed with your hand in his. Every time you sat down next to each other, your knees were touching, or you’d be playing an unconscious game of footsies. It didn’t matter what your bodies were doing or where you were – you were always touching.

Strangers, and even those who knew you, often did think that you two were together. And when confronted, both of you would always scoff and say no. You were just friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

But behind closed doors, there was something. Something more that ignited your skin and set your body on fire. Something more that left Ransom – the talkative asshole – speechless and panting as he tried to catch his breath.

You both agreed only to have sex when it was absolutely necessary.

“It helps us blow off some steam,” Ransom had explained to you while you just nodded in agreement. You couldn’t find your words. Your wits had been fucked to silence and your brain felt like jelly.

You have your shared struggles and frustrations. Sometimes a simple lay was all you needed to let out your bottled-up emotions. It made sense when you established the agreement in your late college years.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you agreed breathlessly.

You didn’t do it often. It would ruin the friendship. You even established a “no kissing on the lips” rule. You said it made everything all too real.

But as the years went by, something else began to blossom. Something else established itself. But neither of you would ever dare speak of it.

It would ruin the friendship after all.

-=+=-

You hated coming back to your childhood home. Haunting memories were the only keepsakes you had there. You had moved out right after college and would only return for holidays – upon your mother’s demand. You always felt as if it were empty. The house was massive and for many years was only home to three people, excluding the help.

You sat at the table alone as you anxiously fumbled with the initial necklace Ransom had given you for your birthday. The dainty gold ‘R’ charm was between your thumb and index finger as your leg bounced while you stared at the untouched feast.

Your father had excused himself, saying he had an emergency video conference for work. You and your mother rolled your eyes as he rushed off. You both knew it wasn’t for work. Enraged, your mother stalked off, glass full of chardonnay in one hand, the bottle in the other.

You didn’t know what you expected. It was like this every holiday – your parents made no exception. You stared at the turkey before you. Your parents didn’t even last to meal itself.

Frustrated, you decided to wrap everything up and packed them into take-home bags. You knew your parents probably wouldn’t eat the leftovers, so you thought about donating the feast to the foodbank. You could drop it off on your way home.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You dug it out and smiled upon seeing Ransom’s name.

Surviving? Because I’m not.

You chuckled. Suck it up, Drysdale. It’s Thanksgiving.

If I have to spend one more minute with these assholes, I’m going to throw myself down the stairs.

No exaggeration.

Before you could respond, you heard your mother call for you. Her glass was empty, and she was staggering into the kitchen, clearly drunk. You wondered if she drank the whole bottle.

“What the hell are you doing? Where’s the food?” She slurred.

You gestured to the packed meals. “I was wrapping them up because no one was eating.” You decided not to tell her about donating them. Lord forbid that you tried to be a decent human and help those less fortunate than you.

Your phone buzzed again. You gave it a quick glance.

Heading home now. They’re gonna give me an aneurysm.

How’s dinner?

“Why would you do that?” Her brows furrowed, but with her Botox, it made no wrinkles appear on her aging face. She put her hands on her his, the glass nearly slipping from her loose fingers. She was an angry drunk. She always was.

You wanted to say that she and your father ruined Thanksgiving. If they’d only just sit down and eat and pretend they were normal for thirty god damn minutes. But every year, that was never the case. You were always disappointed. “I can unpack it if you want.”

“Your father is an asshole.”

“You could’ve left him years ago,” you muttered.

She didn’t hear you. “How’s the job?”

“Good.” You said as you began to unpack some stuffing. Get some food in her since she was already full of alcohol.

“I don’t know why you decided business was for you,” she let out a long sigh. “Just like your father.”

“I don’t like setting up events. PR’s not my thing,” you tried to joke, topping it off with a forced laugh.

She set down her empty glass and flicked her hair off her shoulder. “Could always work for me, sweetheart. I need a new assistant.”

“I’m fine. Thanks, ma.”

“No, for real, sweetie,” she insisted. “I’d love for you to work for me. That’s every girl’s dream. Work for their mother.” You frowned. I don’t think that’s it, you thought.

“I’d rather not be tied to this family any more than I am,” you muttered. This time she heard you.

An exaggerated offended noise came from her lips as she stared at you with her jaw dropped. “Don’t be an ungrateful little bitch.” She spat. “That’s why you never do anything right and that’s why you’re unmarried, unloved, and unhappy.”

“I’m unhappy?” You laughed mockingly. “I’m not the one trapped in a marriage to man that constantly cheats on me. In fact, I’m ecstatic that I’m nothing like you or dad. I’m buzzing with jubilation.” You couldn’t stop yourself. You knew you were worsening the situation.

“You’re a vile bitch that’s gonna end up alone.” They were drunken words. You knew that. But it didn’t stop it from hurting.

You didn’t bother to respond. You chewed on the flesh inside your cheek before turning away and rushing out to your car. You cursed yourself for leaving the food. It would be trash tomorrow. Wasted. Stray tears rolled down your face and you wiped them away aggressively as you drove.

Being alone was something you should’ve been accustomed to already. In fact, you were. You were an only child, had friends that never bothered to ask if you were okay, nannies that cared more about your dad than taking care of you, parents who didn’t even remember your birthday unless they were reminded by their assistants. You knew how to be alone. You were so good at it.

And that frightened you.

You didn’t want to be alone. You craved affection, companionship, love. You wanted that for yourself. But despite all the luxuries you were granted throughout your life, that was one luxury that you desperately wanted but seemingly would never receive.

You felt your anger bubbling inside of you. A pressure started building in your head – steam that needed to be released.

Luckily, you knew where to go.

-=+=-

The holidays were a particularly hard time for both of you and Ransom. Your families demanded your attendances at events, so you both were always forced to come see the very people you loathe the most. Throughout the years of your friendship, it became a tradition to check up on each other as you spent time with your … “loved” ones.

It was a sanity check – something to keep you both grounded. He had a big family, so he could talk shit about them for hours. You loved to read the messages he’d send you.

But this time, he had sent you several messages that you hadn’t responded to. He began to worry until he heard a car door slam in his driveway. You let yourself in. You had a spare key.

“Ransom!” You called out.

“Bedroom!” He responded. He paused the movie he was watching just as you walked through his already open door.

There was something wrong. It was written all over your face. He didn’t need to ask you if you were alright. He knew you weren’t. So, instead he patted the empty side of his bed, inviting you to come lay down with him. But you had a different type of lay in mind.

“How hard is your dick right now?” You asked, bluntly, as you shrugged off your jacket and tossed it to the floor.

A smirk crept its way to Ransom’s face. “Come here and find out.”

You kicked off your shoes and shimmied out of your skinny jeans, leaving your legs exposed in only your plain, black panties. You climbed onto his bed and straddled his lap. You began to grind yourself to his growing erection. The friction stimulating both of you.

Ransom groaned as he watched you. His hands searched his sheets until he found the remote. With clumsy fingers, he managed to turn the TV off and toss the remote to the edge of the bed. He heard it fall, but he was too preoccupied with the gorgeous woman grinding her pussy on his slacks to even care.

“Let’s take this off, hm?” Ransom asked, fiddling with the hem of your blouse.

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” you teased, stopping your movements.

“You’re childish,” Ransom chuckled, his tongue grazed the back of his teeth. He gave your ass a sharp slap. “I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“You aren’t the boss of me, Drysdale.”

He quirked up an amused eyebrow as if to say we’ll see before he pulled your top off your body. You were now sitting on top of him almost nude in your matching bra and underwear. You returned the favor, pulling off the hole-ridden baby blue sweater and exposing his body to you.

Your hands explored his chiseled chest and stomach. Hard as marble, but not nearly as hard as his cock beneath you, begging to be released from its confinements. You shifted down a bit so that you could undo his belt, but his hands stopped you. He grabbed your wrists and you frowned at him.

“What?” You snapped with furrowed brows.

“We’re on the same page?” Ransom asked you. He was concerned. Sure, this almost friends-with-benefits arrangement was years old at this point, but he still wanted to make sure you wanted this. He always asked before anything got too far.

“Please, Ranson…” your voice nearly cracked. He stared into your eyes and despite the lust being evident in your blown-out pupils – he was sure his mirrored the look – he saw the light red lines, an indicator that you were crying. “I need it.”

“Okay,” he nodded and let go of your wrists. Without hesitation, you began to expertly undo the belt and unbutton his pants. With his help, you were able to successfully pull down his slacks and left him in his boxer briefs. The tent inviting. Before you could reach into his underwear and pull out his friend, he flipped you over. You squealed in surprise as your back was pressed into his bed. “You need it, baby?” You nodded. “Okay… I’ll think about being nice.”

“Ransom,” you whined.

His fingers lightly traced the sides of your body. You shivered at his touch. You took it upon yourself to arch your back so that you could unclasp your bra. You threw it away, exposing your chest to your best friend who groaned.

“God, I love these.” He muttered.

His hands cupped your breasts, toying with them. His fingertips tweaking at the nipples as he ground his desire to yours. Ransom leaned down and latched his mouth onto one of your nipples. His tongue swirling around the skin as he sucked it until it pebbled. He then switched to the other. He’d also take a break from your nipples just to leave stray hickeys all over your chest, collarbones, and neck. He loved marking you up. Whilst his mouth continued its assault on your chest, one of his hands slipped into your panties and began to explore your wet folds.

And slowly, Ransom started to make his way down your body, leaving wet kisses on your skin. He kissed right on top of your underwear before slowing pulling the black fabric down your legs. You lifted your hips to assist. Once they were off, you instinctively bent your knees as Ransom pulled them apart and leaned down to give your pussy a broad tongued lick.

You used to be insecure of the stretchmarks on your thighs. When you and Ransom first started having sex, you were afraid he would find them unappealing – that it would turn him off. But your best friend assured you that every part of your body – including the flaws – were beautiful. “Nothing about you could ever turn me off, (Y/N),” a younger Ransom scoffed. The present Ransom, the one who was about to eat you out like a Thanksgiving meal, couldn’t agree more. (He’d often joke and say you ruined other women for him).

You were a moaning mess as Ransom’s fingers pulled your lips open to expose your clit to his tongue. He looked up at you from his position and the sight of you with your eyes closed in a blissful trance alone could’ve made him cum on the spot. His tongue swirled around your button in tiny, circular motions before slipping his tongue into your slickening channel.

“Oh my god,” you moaned. “Ransom, Ransom!” It was music to his ears.

He ate you out slowly, relishing in your taste. Ransom took pride in your reactions. You had one hand clasping the ‘R’ charm around your neck and the other lost in his hair. He smirked into you as he watched you wither in pleasure as he used his fingers to tease your opening. When you began to buck into his face, he used his other hand to hold down your waist, keeping your hips still for his assault.

You clenched around his fingers. “Ransom… I’m close… oh, my god,” you warned. Ransom grunted, taking great pleasure from eating you out. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you begged. He pressed two fingers deep inside of you, curling them and stroking your walls. He buried his face deeper into your dripping cunt and stared up as you came. He wished he could have your reactions of video. The sounds you made were porn worthy and he would’ve loved to have his own private collection.

He stroked you as you rode out your high. You were breathless as your eyes slowly fluttered open, staring up onto the ceiling. “You with me?” Ransom smirked as he stripped his underwear and stroked his hard cock. You nodded. You reached out for him and he gladly leaned down to let you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders.

“I want you to fuck me until I’m stupid,” you whispered. “Only thing I wanna remember is your name.”

Ransom almost frowned. Your parents must’ve really done a number on you this time. In the years that this arrangement had been established, Ransom would – 9 times out of 10 – be the one to initiate the stress relieving sex. But he was more than happy to oblige.

“Your wish is my command, baby,” he muttered, nipping at the skin of your neck before pushing into you.

In one hard thrust, he pushed his entire length into you. You winced when you felt him brush against your cervix. His thrusts were sharp and hard. You’ve had enough sex with each other to know the various spots that made one another tick. Ransom was eager to give you another orgasm – he got off on it.

The shifts of his hips were deliberate, bringing your legs up to drape over his shoulders. He hit spots deep inside of you that you never knew existed before you had sex with him. Your hands were searching for something to hold, something to occupy themselves with. Ransom leaned over, folding you in half, as he took your hands in his, interlacing your fingers while he pounded into you.

You gushed around his thick cock, another orgasm being pulled from you unexpectedly. You moaned his name over and over. “Yeah, baby? Only I make you feel like this, huh?” he grunted. “You take my dick so well. Only you do that, baby.”

You moaned in response, no tangible sentences could even form. His name was the only thing you could say. Your brain effectively melting as you requested.

“I’m gonna make you cum over and over for me.”

He made good on that promise. You lost count of how many times Ransom had made you cum. You had no idea where he got the stamina. But he fucked you through orgasm after orgasm. You fell apart so many times only for him to put you back together.

The obscene sounds that came from your heated core were accompanied by a symphony of moans and the slapping of skin.

“Ugh,” you moaned after what felt like your 6th orgasm of the night. “I love you, Ransom,” you moaned out, and it was the truth. In your fucked-out state, you confessed the three words that you both were too afraid to tell each other. But Ransom smiled, his thrusts becoming less rhythmic. He was about to cum.

He leaned down and captured your lips, groaning into you as he found his release inside of you. The warm feeling spreading throughout your body as you kissed back. Your lips melting into each other, eager and hungry. It was years in the making.

Ransom pulled away first and pulled out of you. You winced and whimpered upon feeling the emptiness. Your mixed fluids slowly trickled out of you and onto the bed, but neither of you minded. You were both too tired.

Ransom slumped beside and you naturally snuggled into his side. By this time Ransom would’ve offered to help clean you, knowing your legs would be like jelly, he’d walk you to the bathroom. But he wanted to enjoy your shared afterglow as he pulled you over his body so that you were resting on his chest. Both of you were panting, lungs trying to pace themselves.

You slowly began to feel the fear settle in.

Ransom was your best friend. The one constant thing in your life. The only stability you had. Your place of comfort. And you’ve ruined it. You said it. The three words. The feeling that’s been building up for years. You scolded yourself for saying it so recklessly.

You’ve done it. You’ve toppled your tower again. Your fingers played with the ‘R’ charm on your necklace again. A nervous habit it seemed.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he whispered in the darkness. He kissed the top of your head as he wrapped his arms tighter around you.

And then a feeling of ease settled upon you. A smile on your face as you realized the tower didn’t fall… not yet. But even if it did, Ransom would be there to help you rebuild. You weren’t alone.

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans #chris evans imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #smut #ransom drysdale smut #chris evans smut

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lexuslikethecar123 · 2 years

Text

i cried when i read the draft, im still crying.

sometimes i think about you. i think about seeing you randomly in a grocery store with a child in the shopping cart. i imagined seeing you and wondering how i would react. sometimes i imagine seeing you when you are 80 years old and how we could look back on the lives we spent. i know nothing about your life. i wondered if something happened to you how would i figure it out because no one really knows our friendship. when i feel low i think about you. i think about how you liked drake and how we would go over the songs. I wonder what you do for work. i wonder if you still ride bikes but something tells me you dont. i wonder why i never see you around the city. marcos tells that he sees your car at your girlfriend/probably wife parents house a couple a year ago. theres been times maybe once or twice a year ill call your old number even tho i knew you wasnt going to pick up. i wonder how you function with whatever you are doing w/o social media or maybe i just aren't connected with you. you saw the future of me in the present. you dont understand how angry, defensive, upset i was in life because of the plights i was in but with you i was so calm. sometimes i think that you are the only person who really really really saw me. i regret sometimes what we did to our partners. i always felt so unfulfilled after because what i couldn't get what i wanted and i always knew that. we arent made for each other, a relationship wasn't for us, but you truly are my soulmate. at least one of them. i believe friends can be soulmates too..

and what i went through when the aneurysm popped in my head. i was pushed back to adolescence, i didnt know English anymore, i even told my team to not call the ambulance but i didnt know the word ambulance so i drew a truck and x’s. after getting into the hospital i was in a short coma where i could hear the nurses and doctors around me talking about their lunch and i could not move my body. i was screaming silently in my mind HELP ME. i practiced counting to 10 and ABC’S because at that time i didnt know in order. at one point i was so tired talking to myself i told myself it was okay to let go and you know what happened? i saw the white light. but sometime after i woke up. after 2 weeks my brain started swelling and i was rushed into a craniotomy surgery where they removed a piece of my skull. after waking up from that i normalized death and drafted my will. i was ready to leave. i was making joke with my family so they wouldnt be so sad. i spent 5 months without of the piece of my skull. it wouldve been just 4 but the hospital put my bone under a different name. i went through so much pain. laughing, coughing, going to the bathroom, anything that gave pressure broke me.

knowing how weird i am i would let random, strangers people touch my head. i show them my head under my helmet and they look at me like a monster. i tell them do you want to touch my brain? i bet youll never have another chance ever again because that chance is rare. i was rare. i am rare. the most common reasons why someones aneurysm would pop i only related to 1 out of like 8. aneurysms have a variety of causes including high blood pressure, trauma, heredity, and abnormal blood flow at the junction where arteries come together, older folks, and its more common in women.

my wealth lasted 8 months. after that i didnt know what to do and didnt get that much help. my boyfriend at the time dumped me but let me stay at his home because he understood i didnt have anything. he didnt want to make it harder for me. he ended up breaking up with me and then expecting to get back with me when i got a bit better, but once i get over someone i am entirely over them. anyway back to the focus, i started an earring business and made $500 in 1 our on facebook live. i was so proud of myself. like come on, i barely knew english and made that money for my bills in a hour. on top of that i saw a flaw in the nich of jewelry making when there wasn't enough Afrocentric culture/pride in jewelry. half i made and the other half i resold. it was kind of alot of work but i did it 7 weeks after getting my skull back. im proud of myself for that but also wished i didnt have to go so hard all the time. at this time i was dealing with alot of side effects. i would forget to turn off the gas stove, i couldnt talk on the phone, i had bad memory, i was so aggressive and didnt even know. you dont know whats happening when you have a brain injury until it always happened. last day of the year i went to the movies with my boyfriend at the time and i lost my wallet. it has over $3,000 to pay my bills for monthssss. it pushed me way over my edge and when that ex went to a club 12/31/18 i knew that was my chance to take all the pills the hospital gave me to escape. i didnt want to live in a word where month would mean so much. i made a video recording and i still watch it from time to time. one day i will show the world.

when i woke up i started crying. i said if a ruptured brain aneursym couldn’t kill me and if i couldnt kill myself then im suppose to be alive.

i started meditating. smudging palo santo and sage. i get to know me the inside out and i got stronger and stronger. i fucking looked so good bald and i had no idea. i lived in south carolina for a little over a month dog sitting my aunts house and i took that time to heal and move on from my ex.

right now the side effects I'm dealing with are its hard to pronounce 3 syllable words and i have a central auditory processing disorder, i can hear you but sometimes it takes my brain a long time to understand. i am horrible with Q&As lol. carlos i can walk, talk, drive, can move all my limbs. boy, i am so blessed to be here. its hard when you tell people what you went through and they only respond with ohh my uncle/aunt/mom/sister had that but they passed away or whats that? this made me so negative. i had no one to tell me i would be okay not even my mom.

ever since i got back from south carolina ive been part of a docuseries sharing my story, ive shared my story to many colleges (like 2), conferences (like 1)- you know what. fuck all the things ive been doing i just want you to truly understand how happy i am just communicating with you. the friendship is one of hope. this friendship is a muse. i could write 100 spoken words about it and not one line would be about sex or anything like that. i lost alot of memories carlos like drake lyrics to all movies i watched before the anyersm and there has to be a reason why i never forgot any memory with you my friend. im writing this all so ugly because i want you to read as much as i can write. its 4:11am

I have a business Carlos. i founded it with my partner. his name is Evan Delpeche. its blowing up on a local level. we are going to have a store front this season. we have a 3,000 sq foot warehouse in atlantic mills on manton.

hes awesome. handsome. hes a leo if that means anything. He makes me feel like im super sensitive. he was born here but found himself in new york. hes done many many amazing things in ny with big brands. sometimes i feel like i dont have enough style for his taste but in order for me to be stylish i need money to buy clothes. like i only get money from disability check and sometimes i get paid from soulita but my focus is all profit to go back in the business, but i know what wont last long not paying myself. i can be selfless. anyway, weve been featured in many magazines in RI. check out September issue of providence monthly. go to ri monthyl and search soulita. go to boston globe and look up my name (its just a pic of my art nothing so big) all of these things im proud of.

the way we met was perfect and we work hard together. in the beginning i was torn between someone else and i felt like why cant i have choices? i almost fucking died why cant i just enjoy being single but that wasnt me. idk what a one stand night is. i have too many feeling and i love way to deep and i am so fucking romantic. i have 1 tattoo that says “always and all ways” to explain it i say “im going to love you always and all ways, its the unconditional love i show” no matter what happens to a person i love even if they got their arm cut off, cant give me children, cant provide, turns blind or anything a shallow person would run away from, i choose to love all different ways.

talking to you is like talking to myself

im blabbing because you don't judge and its been years dude. years that ive only talked to you in my head.

I saying random shit just to increase the word count. like this next paragraph

i love cooking. theres nothing better than someone putting my food in their mouth and smiling because its so good. i study neuroscience. i started to study it because i wanted to understand why and how the aneurysm popped and how i can regain all knowledge i lost. i have a list of my favorite molecules and hormones. i dont like random movies unless im learning something from it so i love documentaries. i dont want to be entertained i want to be educated. I know ill be moving in the new few years to ny with my partner. I want my focus on career wise is to be a motivational speaker and a business women/ entrepreneur. you can find some of my speeches online somewhere. im 23 years old now dude

i love u always my friend

and all ways Carlos

even if that means its cryptic, out of sight, if its in a reality only us live in.

please go to one of my motivational speaker events one day. dress up like joe from You or something and be lowkey lol idk. please try out my products. i have an organic pregnancy's line that you probably one day for Lily. maybe every 1 or 3 or 5 or 10 years we meet at the same spot on the certain day every time and that's can be the only communication. idk.

all i know is i went through that drafts and never notice the message till now and im so happy for me to discover it on a time i really needed it.

i know ^ was alot. and all over the please but im not going to say sorry. I wish i could say more. even if its random.

thank you my friend. that sounded wack lol

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