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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

Crackin’ the Code

prompt: Harry and YN tie the knot in a beautiful castle off the coat of Italy. Harry reflects back on his life before his love. YN has past insecurities creep on on her before the wedding.

note: this is the necklace that YN receives as (one) her wedding gifts from H and she wears it during the ceremony.

word count: 9k

warnings: smut

***<-- click for visuals throughout (super important for this one shot!)

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---

The world expected an extravagant wedding with week-long festivities, celebrations in destinations only the richest could afford, and all the big names of the business world who ran in his circle.

The media outlets were just waiting, quite impatiently, for the day that the richest man in Europe settled down with a significant other. They would have news stories for decades when it came to the couple.

Of course, Harry Styles was going to marry a household name - the public thought.

Whether it be an heiress, a model, maybe even an actress? The choices for the most eligible bachelor were limitless.

Any time he was at an event, usually a charity gala or black-tie dinner, paparazzi would take candid pictures of him with any female and then the following day publish an article about how they were a couple.

However, what the world didn’t know was that he’s been in a relationship for a year and a half, has already been engaged after the eight month mark, and moved into pretty soon after but that was hushed.

Nearly no one except a few key employees and family members knew about the couple. Everyone in his office building in the heart of London had to sign NDA’s at the beginning of their job - though almost all of them didn’t know she existed.

Harry did not put any limits on YN for the wedding planning.

No price, no expectations, nothing. If she wanted ten-thousand people or zero people in attendance that was her call. If she wanted to drop ten million dollars on a wedding or a hundred that was fine too.

The CEO never fantasized about a wedding.

Well he had but no in the terms most do. He didn’t sit and imagine the venue, the food menu, or the decorations.

No, he didn’t care about any of that, he daydreamed about the fact that he and someone would commit themselves to each other for the rest of their lives.

Harry wanted to marry his fiance after their first date.

He was usually a very patient man, couldn’t have gotten where he was if he wasn’t. When it came to this, each day he wasn’t married to the love of his life felt like torture.

Since he proposed to her in his briefs in their bedroom, he had imagined her looking immaculate in whatever she chose to wear, exchanging vows of devotion, and then being tied together for life.

He never thought he would get here. He’d never felt a connection with someone like he had with the feisty waitress who bumped into him. Begin to believe that he was broken or lacking emotion because no matter how sweet the girl was he couldn’t see himself with the person.

Don’t get him wrong.

He took many women out on dates that were downright awful. Asking him about money, suggesting he take them on expensive vacations or buy them a designer item, being too forward and palming his crotch in the middle of dinner.

One of the last dates he went on before he gave up was the one that made him stop looking all together, about six months before he ran in YN.

---

It was an expensive restaurant in the heart of London. It had a waitlist for months but one call and they could magically make an available booth for the billionaire within the hour.

The girl he was sitting across from was a so-to-speak blind date.

A set up by one of his business partners who stated that they would be a good match. Harry had rolled his eyes at that but couldn’t come up with an excuse fast enough to say ‘no.’

Her name was Aria, she had a respectable job at a local law firm as an assistant to a very well-known lawyer in the area.

She was beautiful in the way of looking just like an instagram model with long dark extensions, false eyelashes that made it hard to determine what color her eyes were, and an outfit that made Harry a bit embarrassed to be seen with her - short and low cut at a five-star restaurant.

“Yeah, I just got back from Mallorca with a group of friends,” She tells him, flipping through the photo album on her phone to show him pictures.

When she ‘accidentally’ swipes (and slowly swipes) again so that Harry definitely gets a glimpse of a nude selfie.

Harry internally groans, couldn’t be less turned on by that, and doesn’t acknowledge it - much to Aria's disappointment.

She was fishing for a compliment, maybe a request for him to take the phone and look closer at the picture like most men would.

Instead he sits back, takes a sip of his wine, and nods curtly, “It looks like you had a good time.”

She stumbles for a second, confused by his sudden standoffishness, and clicks her phone locked before putting it next to her on the table, “Did I offend you?”

He was already done with the date, with the dating scene, with fucking everything honestly.

What a goddamn waste of a night.

Harry barks out a cruel laugh, “It takes a lot more to offend me than a picture of y’tits but it’s a bit offensive that y’think so little of yourself that you think that’s how y’going to impress me. Those tits didn’t impress me much, darling.”

Aria’s eyes narrow in blatant disbelief at how much of an asshole he was being.

Granted, she did feel a bit of embarrassment creeping up in her stomach about thinking showing him that picture was a good idea but still, he didn’t need to react like that.

“It really makes sense why you don’t have a girlfriend, it’s because of what an asshole you are,” The girl sneers with venom as she tucks her phone into her clutch, swigging down the last drops of the expensive wine.

He shrugs like he’s unbothered, a nasty feeling quilling in the pit of his stomach as he keeps an outward expression of nonchalance and ease, it make the raven-haired woman even more furious as he replies cooly, “I’m not being an asshole, honesty hurts sometimes. Maybe if you think the way you attract someone is by nude pictures, you should try Tinder or Bumble.”

“I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have,” Aria tells him before pushing out her chair and leaving before the main course even arrives.

Harry sits there for a moment, swallowing and pleading with himself to not let the nasty words set in because they felt too real and too personal - she had actually struck some type of chord within and it had his stomach churning.

When he pays the bill, apologizing profusely for leaving dinner before the entree arrives but with an excuse of a company emergency - it’s eerily quiet in his car as he drives home to his massive home with no one in it.

It doesn’t happen often.

He should call his mum, Gemma, Dorothy even to talk it out but he feels so fucking alone because he can’t get it right. He can’t connect with anyone and it is starting to feel hopeless.

He is angry, so angry at himself, that he can’t shake the feeling of it and he feels like he’s losing control because he never fucking talks about his emotions.

A beautiful set of dishware was sitting out his dining room table, the housekeeper had carefully unwrapped them earlier in the day.

They were imported from Beijing, decorated with real gold, and handcrafted. It had cost him nearly forty-thousand dollars for a set of fucking plates and bowls.

I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.

It is repeatedly on a loop in his head, glares at the items on the dinner table like they’re mocking him, and he has no wits about himself before he’s taking one of the beautiful bowls and throwing it against the wall as hard as possible.

I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.

By the time he’s done, his chest is heaving, and his face is red.

When reality starts to set back in, every single item from the set is destroyed on the floor, the wall’s paint chipped from where he’d hurled them.

He was so fucked up.

Harry couldn’t help but relieve the feelings of that nasty flashback. He couldn’t believe that he had been at that point in his life - not when he had the most all-consuming, amazing in every single way woman laying next to him in his bed.

YN had shown Harry that he had never been broken, he had just been waiting.

She was his soulmate and he had been waiting for her since forever. He truly believed that as he looked at the girl next to him with enough emotion his heart might burst.

She was just...everything.

YN was so fucking funny - the funniest person Harry had ever met. She was loving in a way that made you feel like you belonged. Compassionate in a way that makes you want to be more selfless yourself. Intelligent enough that it was breathtaking and unreal - and that was just the tip of the iceberg.

She was uncaring of who Harry was - in the most perfect way.

Money wasn’t a personality trait that she defined him with. She loved him for who he was at the bare basics, stripped away from his public life.

She was confident in a way that girls rarely were.

Bared face and more beautiful than the highest-paid models.

Her body was her own, embracing every curve and inch of it without any shame. Let herself be authentic in front of Harry which made him feel like he had won a secret lottery.

Right now, she was fast asleep next to him in bed after stuffing herself full of oreos that she was dunking in milk. She ignored Harry’s looks of disgust at the soggy cookies and munched away happily which made him happy in turn.

She still had a dark crumb on the corner of her puffy lips, her mouth parted just the slightest amount, and her face smushed halfway into the pillow.

The shirt she had on was so oversized she was swimming in it and a pair of soft pink cheeky underwear.

Currently, she was the farthest thing from graceful and Harry loved that so fucking much.

As they lay mere days away from their wedding, remembering that nasty flashback, he can’t help but remember their first date and how he had known from them that he had finally found a spark, a connection to another human being.

Harry cannot remember the last time he had been nervous.

Maybe back in his teenage years? If that.

It was an unsettling feeling that was currently pooling in the pit of his stomach as he changed his outfit for the third time before finally being somewhat satisfied with the suit he had picked out - tighter black jeans, black button-up, black blazer - couldn’t go wrong there. ***

YN had texted him asking what she should wear for their first date when Harry told her he was going to keep it simple and take her to a restaurant.

He had to dress nice, it was an expensive restaurant that he had not taken any other dates to before, it was right outside of London - going towards the countryside with a beautiful view of a meadow and stream.

When he had arrived in front of her apartment, well he had never been on this side of town, and it quite frankly looked like the roof of her building was about to collapse at any minute. It was rough to say the least.

Harry had picked out a car he thought would impress her. He remembered her saying the doors of his Lamborghini were stupid so he picked a car with normal doors this time. It was his new Audi Quattro that had cost him upwards of 170,000 pounds. ***

YN had popped out of the front door, her face didn’t read impressed when she saw the car like he had hoped. It was interesting before YN, he did not care whether or not his dates were impressed by him - now he craved it.

She looked extraordinary in a form fitting silky black dress that hugged every single curve of her body perfectly while accentuating them at the same time. Minimal makeup, loose waves, and simple high heels - it was like a dream that he was taking this girl out on a date. ***

When she slips into the passenger seat, the smell of her floral yet cinnamon perfume makes the car smell heavenly, she looks over at him and says, “You didn’t even come open the door for me. We’re off to a bad start, Harry.”

His heart sinks, fuck - he had been blindsided by her beauty that he wasn’t even being a proper gentleman, “M’so sorry, I wa-”

She chirps out a tender laugh, patting his arm, “You’re face, oh my god. I was just fucking with you.”

Harry’s frown turns into a pout, “S’not nice, pet.”

YN shrugs before a bit self-consciously adjusting the fabric around her midsection, “Erm, I hope this outfit is nice enough? It’s really the only semi-decent thing I own.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, “Y’look absolutely stunning. I can’t even believe y’real to be honest, so fuckin’ pretty.”

YN gives him a shy, unsure smile but he can tell she’s preening at the compliment internally (which she totally is).

The restaurant is one of the nicest in England, let alone London.

There wasn’t even a menu, they just served eight courses over a few hours time by servers in suits with bowties on.

YN had never felt more out of place.

As they sat down, Harry was proud that he was able to show off his abilities for a good date, YN was looking around nervously before looking up at the server and saying, “We didn’t get menus yet.”

The man gives her a humorous expression before telling her, “We don’t do menus here, miss. Your date is a regular, I am sure he can fill you in. However, we are starting off with a Cabernet from 2001 imported from Napa, California.”

As he pours the wine into their sparkling glasses, she asks unknowingly, “I don’t really like wine. Is there any way I could get a Coke?”

Harry frowns when the server laughs meanly at her, “Ma’am this isn’t McDonald’s. We do not carry soda. I can provide you with water, if you so wish.”

Harry can’t help but snap at the waiter, “Oi, she’s never been here before. Lay off with the attitude alright?”

“My apologies, Mr. Styles,” He murmurs obediently before finishing the pouring off the whine and retreating from the table.

YN is trying to hide how uncomfortable she is but it is still obvious with how she fidgets in her seat, doesn’t quite know what to do with her hands as she doesn’t even bother to reach towards the wine glass.

“This isn’t really your scene, is it?” Harry murmurs, embarrassment with his failure to impress her with an expensive car and dinner.

It was falling flat and it was the only thing he knew how to do - flaunt his wealth, everyone else had always been impressed.

“No, it isn’t,” She agrees quietly, fingers folding the edges of the cloth napkin to keep her anxiousness directed somewhere, “I appreciate this, er, dinner. I thought we were going to go somewhere like Mary’s.”

Mary’s was a restaurant that was considered ‘nice’ to the commoners in the city. It was a bit more expensive than a pub and the attire was a bit fancier than if you were going out to a bar.

For someone like Harry, that was not considered a fancy restaurant.

However, YN was not him and this was not something that she had ever been accustomed to. He now definitely felt like an idiot.

It’s made even worse when a massive plate is put in front of each of them.

The plate is huge but the dish is merely one scallop with a lemon sauce and sprinkle of parsley on top. YN can’t even try to hide her confusion at the food.

“I’ve mucked this date up,” Harry sighs, nearly thirty minutes into the actual date.

YN had taken a small bite of the scallop before setting down her fork and not touching it again - it tasted like dirty feet. Did rich people like that taste?

She decides not to answer directly, “I already know you have money. It doesn’t ‘wow’ me. I was hoping for a fun date, this is….nice but quite truthfully, not for me. I prefer a pub or bowling - this feels more like a business meeting.”

Harry usually doesn’t have dates that are this honest with him.

He feels embarrassed but he really did appreciate her honesty. He should have known to do something different than this but he was comfortable with his normal pattern.

“Can we get out of here?” YN asks, placing the napkin back on the table and gathering up her small purse to swing over her shoulder.

He feels defeated as he nods, paying for the meal in full as he accepts that he’s fucked up the date beyond repair by being an arrogant, ignorant asshole who doesn’t truly know how to talk to a girl he likes.

It’s quiet as he starts the car and pulls back onto the road, he startles a bit when YN points to a glowing sign of a golden arch and demands, “Go there.”

With a bit of confusion, Harry pulls into the McDonald’s parking lot and then to the drive-thru as she motions for him to do so.

God, he hasn’t been to a fast food joint in years now if he was being honest.

When they pull up to the screen, YN leans across and shoots out their food order with ease before sitting back with a smug smile, “We’re going to have a date my way.”

Harry sighs with relief when he realizes the date isn’t over - but really just beginning. They sit and chat in the parking lot. He is thoroughly impressed when YN manages a box of nuggets, a fry, and a milkshake without shame.

Not like she should be shameful - just usually on dates women were hesitant to actually eat and instead picked carefully at their food instead. Their conversation in the car is bright, at some points deep and meaningful, but refreshing. It made him feel young again.

After they finished eating, she’s ordering him to drive a bit further out into the country where he can’t help but make the joke, “Are y’taking me somewhere to kill me?” YN smiles happily with a wide grin, “You’ll just have to wait to see.”

It ends up being a lake. A beautiful body of water that was surrounded by trees that were being reflected into the ripples with the light of the moon. The only sounds were of crickets chirping and the light lapping of the water against the small shore. ***

“I used to come here a lot in the summer in high school,” YN murmurs as Harry takes in the scenery of everything. It had been so long since he had appreciated nature - not the bright clear waters in the tropics but something like this.

“S’beautiful,” Harry replies, can’t help but observe this girl he’s infatuated beauty in the moonlight.

Her skin looks like it’s glowing, the moon sparkling off the twinkle of her iries, and she just looked...ethereal. Like she belonged in the beauty of the wilderness.

He couldn’t believe his eyes - had to blink harshly a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it when she pulls the thin straps of her dress down her shoulders and shimmy the garment down her body until she’s left in a delicate lace bra and cheeky pair of underwear.

Harry, always the gentleman, keeps his eyes (with effort) on her face. Unsure of what is going on in her mind before she turns around with a little run and dives headfirst into the deep waters before popping back up and giggling, “Jump in!”

She’s just so...carefree, adventurous. Harry hadn’t felt free in fucking years.

It has him shucking out of all of his clothing, just down to his tight black briefs before he’s diving in, right next to her, and feeling around. He wraps his hand around her ankle to teasingly tug her under with him before they both surface.

As they wad in the water, YN swims over to him, and wraps her legs around his waist, arms around his neck. Her soaking wet hair was dripping and he was breathing heavy, feeling his ribcage expand against her soft tummy.

She murmurs quietly over the light lapping over the water, “You haven’t even looked at me once.”

Harry swallows, feeling like a schoolboy again, “I...I didn’t want to without permission.”

“I want you to look at me,” YN replies, letting her nose nudge his and her eyes searching into his nervous ones.

He nods, closing his eyes when he feels her lips brush his, letting his large palms grip at her sides and pull her closer to his chest. Their lips not breaking when his hands begin to explore the intricate, plush curves of her body.

They don’t do anything else, don’t go any further but he groaning when she traces her fingertips down his muscular, defined abs and thumb rubbing over the trail of light hair leading into his briefs.

After a swim, filled with splashing and dunking, they retired to lay in the grass. Both of their backs, looking up at the clear night sky, moon full and stars glittering against the stark darkness that surrounds it.

YN wriggle until she’s tucked into his side, hand running up and down his chest, as she says, “I’m sorry your date didn’t go as planned. I ruined it.”

“Y’didn’t ruin anything. I...I haven’t felt like this in a long time,” Harry admits as he gives off an embarrassed laugh, “I..I’m a little bit scared, to be honest.”

“Scared? Of what?” YN asks, lips pressing against a tattoo on his bare shoulder.

“Because I already am falling for you,” Harry utters, heart racing and his eyes glued upwards and pointedly not wanting to see her interaction.

“That’s a relief.”

His eyebrows shoot up, “A relief?”

“Yeah, I would say. I’m falling too,” YN whispers before leaning up to connect their lips once more as the moon rises further in the sky and the crickets sing a little louder. They lay like that for a very long time.

Harry went home that night for the first time not feeling the empty weight of his loneliness, instead he feel asleep imagining the beautiful, spontaneous girl next to him in his bed.

It wasn’t going to be the wedding everyone expected for The Harry Styles. **

There was not many invites set out for this event. It wasn’t the wedding of the century or the most expensive wedding of the decade.

Harry would have let his wife-to-be have this day however she wanted without complaint but could say he was very happy that it was going to a be a low-key event. It was going to be some of YN’s family, though she didn’t have much, and Harry’s extended family. No one from work or business. Just family.

They had just gotten finished with the rehearsal dinner, the couple being ordered to separate rooms for the final night before they were married. It was tradition.

Harry had walked YN to her hotel room, they were staying at the venue, and pressed her up against the door. His hand coming to weave into her meticulously curled hair and cupping the back of her head, bring her mouth to his.

He wastes no time in letting his tongue find hers, hips coming to press her further back against the aged wood, and his teeth nipping roughly at her plump bottom lip, “Baby, y’gonna be m’wife tomorrow.”

YN’s eyes twinkle up at him like they did during their first date, “I can’t wait. I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

His fiance laughs kindly as he gets a bit watery eyed, her thumb coming to swipe under his eye, she jokes, “Are you regretting proposing now?”

“Just never knew I could be this happy,” He murmurs against her lips, can’t help but reach around to grip a generous amount of her backside and pulling her flush against him where he’s hardening quickly.

“Mm, down boy. You don’t get the goods until tomorrow,” YN scolds, hand wrapping around his wrist and squeaking when he squeezes harder to get the point across - how much he wants her, all the fucking time.

“Want it now, pet,” Harry whines lowly, grinding his hips forward into her, “Give it t’me, y’mouth, y’cun-”

“Alright lovebirds! Separate now!” Gemma barks to interrupt with the laughter of their childhood friend Chloe.

They pull Harry by the back of the shirt and push him forward towards his room, Gemma smiles back at YN, “Make him put a ring on it before you give it to him!”

“Gem!” Harry scolds with a whine, giving his fiance puppy dog eyes and a pouted bottom lip, “Baby, don’t let them take me!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, I love you!” YN shouts back, waving and smiling to herself as she opens up the door to her room and then locking it after she steps in. It feels weird being in a hotel room without him but she was a bit sweaty and her nerves were wiry so she decided a nice bath would be a good idea.

It’s past two in the morning and she was no less ready to find sleep. The worries of whether everything will be set up properly, if she’ll stutter during her vows, there were just so many things that could go wrong.

Life didn’t even seem real at this moment.

She was marrying her husband at an amazing castle on the coast of italy with family to surround them in love. She had the perfect dress, the perfect flowers, the perfect partner. ***

She had never had it easy. Never thought she would deserve something like this. Harry had made her feel worthy of all this, they deserved to have a happy ever after.

When it hits three in the morning, she can’t stand the quiet of the italian countryside anymore, and is swinging her legs over the bed. She pockets the keycard Harry gave her earlier in the day in her cotton shorts before sneaking out of her room.

After she taps the card to the sensor, the large oak doorknob clicks, she slips in and closes the door as silently as possible. YN steps in to the room, Harry's asleep in his bed on his stomach, face smushed into the pillow.

Harry’s facial expression and body language while he was awake was so severe, serious, intimidating. In sleep, his face was lax and his limbs loose. He looked more boyish when he was dreaming.

YN’s heart aches at how much she loves him, pulling the covers up, and crawling under them until she’s jostling him unintentionally, waking him from his light sleep with a mumble, “Baby, y’okay? Wha’s wrong? Y’alright?”

She giggles at his dazy panic, “I just missed you.”

“Mmm,” Harry agrees, pulling her all the way down and rolling on top of her, “Missed y’more.”

“You’re like a toaster!” YN squeals as he’s encompasses her, laying on her with his weight. His lips finding her pulse point and gently sucking. He was barely awake and he still couldn’t stop himself from her finding comfort in her body.

“I’m warmin’ y’up,” Harry growls against her neck before giving her a lick which has her giggling even more and pushing him off until he falls on his back and she’s swing her legs over his waist, straddling him.

“Y’breakin’ the tradition, m’heart.”

YN shrugs, humming while he palms at her belly, and she (much to his disappointment) ignores where he’s hard and waiting for her.

“I want t’sleep with you,” She pleas sheepishly, leaning all the way over to connect their lips in a quickie peck before she’s moving off of him and into his side.

“Never say no to you, y’know that, dovie,” Harry replies as if it’s obvious (it is).

“We’re getting married tomorrow,” YN whispers into the dark, like it’s a secret just between the two.

Harry nuzzles his nose against her temple, “Never wanted anythin’ more than I want you.”

YN can’t help but sniffle softly, overwhelmed with emotion and love, “You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you.”

“You saved me. You saved me from myself, from where I was going. You gave me hope, feeling again. Y’are m’heart, it fuckin’ beats for you.”

It may not be tradition but YN wouldn’t of had it any other way, sleeping in a magnificent castle on the ethereal coast of Italy in a classic hotel room, and the excitement of their wedding rumbling in both of their stomachs.

“You sneaky bastards!” Bethany screeches, door flinging open with Gemma in tow as they intrude into Harry’s room - finding the couple curled up under the covers with Harry spooning YN with his face tucked into her hair.

“Fuck off,” Harry groans, pulling his fiance closer into his chest as she wriggles awake and whimpers lowly, “Mornin’ lovie.”

“Out out!” Gemma shoos, pulling the covers off of them and the sisters showing no mercy while they yank YN out of the bed and titter about how she needs to start getting ready, no time for cuddles, breaking traditions.

“Bring her back!” He whines childishly, hurling a pillow at his sister’s retreating back as they guide YN back to her own room.

“You’ll see her in a few hours!” Gemma shouts back before slamming the hotel room door and leaving Harry to doze off for just a few more minutes.

Hair and makeup went fast.

It was getting closer and closer to actually walking down the aisle towards her soon-to-be life partner and she’s never felt more nervous.

Rosemary and Bethany were all rushing around - attempting to get ready in the midst of getting the bride ready.

YN didn’t want to look like a doll or have any intense makeup. It was a soft champagne smokey eye with dewy skin and a glowing highlight. A nice lip with a bit of glittering gloss.

Her hair was in big, loose curls that cascaded down her back with the front pulled off of her face. A real white flower holding it back.

Then it was the dress. She was anxious about whether Harry would like it or not. She wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to wear - a massive ball gown, a form-fitting mermaid, or something less over-the-top?

It was a show-stopper that had her memorized when she had first seen it - could automatically imagined herself getting married in Italy with this on her body.

It was also one of the only times she didn’t even care about the price tag - she knew this was it. Yes, it was absurd to spend fifty thousand pounds on a dress but it was the one time she took advantage of Harry’s wealth.

It was flowy, reminding her of the soft waves that lapped at the coast of the italian beaches. It was sophisticated, classy with a sharp starch white that billowed into a dreamlike beauty.

What had made her fall in love was the sheer, detailed sleeves that gave the dress more of a vintage, glamour appearance than the modern tight-fit, overly sexy gowns that most brides wore nowawadays. ***

The train was long and sleek. It would trail beautifully down the aisle before being bustled for the reception. It made her feel confident in a way that an item of clothing next had made her feel before.

“Your tits look amazing,” Bethany compliments before giggling when their grandmum pinches her arm for her crude language.

YN couldn’t find it in her to laugh. She felt like her voice was stuck in her throat and it wasn’t moving.

It started to feel real.

The fact that Harry had proposed, had planned a wedding with her, that he was agreeing to marrying her today.

It was starting to scare her - no, not cold feet but anxiety that he would realize that he could do better than the lowly waitress.

Now, on a normal day, she wouldn’t be having these irrational thoughts. Today was different and it felt too good to be true.

Rosemary and Bethany sense the tension in the room, rub her shoulders, and respect her wishes when she asked for a moment alone.

YN debates picking up her phone, knowing he was busy with his bigger side of the family in the groom’s suite.

She finds herself picking up her mobile, dialing his number, and waiting with bated breath for his syrupy, warm voice to pour through the speaker.

“Everythin’ okay?” He answers, she can hear Anne and Gemma tittering about in the background, yelling at him to get a move on.

“I’m scared,” YN whispers, she holds back her tears because the last thing she wanted to do was ruin her meticulous makeup.

“Leavin’ me at the altar?” Harry jokes lowly, stepping away from prying ears.

YN giggles at his teasing tone, “Never. I…I feel like this is all too good to be true. Like it’s a dream and I’m going to wake up.”

Harry huffs, “Sweetheart. Y’my soulmate, if y’wake up - I’m right there with you, okay? God, if anyone is dreamin’ it’s me. I get t’marry the most beautiful, intelligent -“

Gemma’s voice interrupts him, “You already seduced her into marrying you! We don’t have time for this sweet talk!”

The line goes dead but YN feels much better now.

—

Rosemary was going to be the one walking her down the aisle to her new husband. It didn’t feel right to have anyone else do it as she was the one who raised her into the strong, independent woman she was today.

YN knew she wanted to have an outside wedding.

What would be more perfect than a cool evening in Italy? It was what she had dreamed about since she was little without the idea that it would ever happen.

The weather was absolutely perfect. There was a slight warm breeze that would keep the guests from being overheated, the sun was peeking in and out of vibrant white clouds that complimented the blue sky.

She knew exactly where Harry would be standing.

Underneath a beautiful, dated archway with intricate designs about.

The old material had lovingly grown luscious ivy that kissed the walls in a swirling, natural design.

YN would never forget how beautiful that ivy had looked on her wedding day, encompassing the magnificent that was her soon-to-be husband.***

The venue was open, airy but still gave off an intimacy. There weren't many rows of chairs because not many were invited to share in such an ethereal experience where soulmates have found each other and were announcing their commitment to the world.

“Are you ready, my daughter?” Her grandmother had asked quietly as they lined up behind the expansive, old brick wall that hides them from the rest of the ceremony and crowd. She could hear the whispering as people took their seats.

YN nods, her vocal cords refusing to cooperate as she imagines Harry just as nervous on the opposite side with his family.

When the twinkling, traditional music begins from the small orchestra off to the side - the realization hits her - it is actually happening, right now.

Bethany puts her bouquet in front of her, giving one last meaningful smile at her sister before she takes her cue to turn the corner and begins her walk down the aisle.

It meant Harry was up there, watching as she was about to appear.

Then the orchestra’s melody became louder, more grand in the signaling for the guests to stand and turned toward the back of the room - awaiting the bride’s entrance to the ceremony.

Rosemary takes the initiative to hook their arms and guide her past the wall.

YN clutches onto her own flowers as if it’s her lifeline. ***

Every fear, insecurity, moment of self-doubt dissipates when her eyes connect to Harry’s. There is no longer a doubt in her mind that she wasn’t enough. It was a deep, unbreakable stare as Harry’s mouth parts in a gasp of awe.

He was in a suit that was undeniably him. It displayed how fucking regal he was, how it looked like he was handcrafted into the italian design, how it fit him just perfectly.

It wasn’t a normal tuxedo. It was a perfectly tailored, custom (of course) Gucci suit that excentuate his broad shoulders and the nip of his narrow hips *** ***.

YN can’t even hear the noise of the guests - whispering about how beautiful she looks.

All she can see is her future husband, who swallows harshly as an unexpected sob wracks through his chest at the sight of his bride.

The guests can’t help but look with wide eyes as the man they know - who they’ve barely ever seen smile, let alone cry, cannot control his emotions.

Gemma, who was his ‘best man’ which they deemed ‘best woman’, rubs his back soothingly with a watery smile herself at seeing her brother so estastatic as he looks at the woman of his dreams.

Harry rubs his eyes before meeting hers again.

YN is holding back her own tears as she reaches the end of the aisle.

In tradition as old as time, Harry steps forward and Rosemary passes her hand over to him in a signal that she trusts him to take care of the girl she’s spent meticulous time raising and cultivating into the person she is today.

“I trust you to take care of my girl, she is now yours,” Rosemary tells Harry, her tone is calm and full of emotion as she allows Harry to lean over to kiss her cheek softly.

Harry nods, his usually stable voice shaky as he replies, “I promise, I’ll take care of her until the day I die.”

Rosemary nods before patting his cheek and finding her seat in the audience.

When they are finally standing face-to-face, YN reaches over to thumb off a stray tear that was sliding down his cheek before he turns his head to kiss her thumb then kissing her palm.

Harry didn’t even acknowledge that there was anyone else watching - it was just him and her.

“Y’look breathtaking, can’t believe y’mine,” Harry murmurs trembling, his chest moving faster than usual and it felt like it was nearly impossible for him to catch his breath as he looked at the woman in front of him.

When it comes to the vows, Bethany hands over her small piece of paper that she had scribbled onto and scratched out multiple times - never quite able to get the wording just right and she says just that.

“I couldn’t find the right words to explain my love for you,” She starts, voice raspy as she looks up to see Harry watching her raptly, eyes intense and only focused on her.

“And maybe there aren’t even words to explain it because nothing felt like enough. It is how I feel a lot of the time with you. I’ll never have enough of you because you’re all-consuming to me. I have never felt happiness like I have with you.”

YN is trying to stifle her tears as she continues, Harry reaches out to rub her arm in reassurance then he lightly brushes over the new necklace he had gifted her, “You’re by far the most complex, closed-off person I have ever met. I feel like you’ve allowed me to crack the code and once I did, I wasn’t disappointed. I’ve cracked my own code, you see.”

“The code to explaining my feelings for you will come with my dedication, love, loyalty to be your wife for the rest of our lives.”

Harry can’t help what he does next despite it not falling in line at the ceremony.

His hands come up to cup her jaw and he sears his lips to hers, kissing her with all the passion and emotion he cannot seem to keep in any longer. It’s too much, has to show her in that moment how much he loves her.

A few of his uncles whistle from the crowd as their wives smack their chests in warning.

YN giggles, returning the kiss before pushing him off.

The look in his eyes is one she knows extremely well - it sends shivers down her spine and makes her hair stand on end -, the stare down of lust and want.

“Mr. Styles,” The officiant redirects, nodding towards the piece of paper he has in his hand.

“Yeah, sorry,” Harry mumbles, unraveling the wrinkled notecard he had tucked in his inner suit pocket.

“I knew I was in love with you the moment you spilled that drink on me and undressed me in that dodgy employee bathroom,” Harry says with full sincerity, smirking at YN’s blush when he brings up the way they met.

“I tried to talk myself out of it. It was impossible to fall in love in mere minutes of meeting someone but it was the truth. I knew after our first date that I wanted y’to be m’wife. I knew after the second that I wanted y’to be the mother of my babies one day. And by the third date, I was planning on buying you a ring.”

“It sounds insane because it is. I’ve never been an impulsive, spur-of-the-moment, hopeful person before you. You made me throw all that out of the window, you make me feel alive, and when I tell you that you saved me. You saved me, m’love.”

“There is a lot of uncertainty in this world but I can tell you one thing that is absolutely fuckin’ certain -”

“Harry,” YN hisses with an eye-roll at his crude language.

“The one thing that is absolutely certain in this world is that I will always love you, always take care of you, and always do everythin’ in m’power to make you happy.”

The guests in the chairs are quite speechless.

They’d never heard such passionate, meaningful vows from a couple.

This was not what they were expecting of Harry who had never once put his heart on his sleeve and right now he’d laid it all out on the table.

“YN LN, do you agree to take Harry Edward Styles as your husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant asks, voice ringing against the walls of the castle.

YN has to take a big breath before she replies in a strong, firm voice as her eyes bore into Harry’s, “I do.”

“Harry Edward Styles, do you agree to take YN MN LN as your wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant repeats.

Harry, in ever typical fashion, in his loud, booming voice replies, “Of course I fuckin’ do.”

The guests in the audience laugh lightly as the officiant states, “I now announce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Styles. You may now kiss your bride.”

It doesn’t take more than a second for Harry to step forward, grip her face and pull her in for a kiss, it doesn’t matter that their family is there to him as he licks into her mouth which is bordering on obscene before YN brings it back to a softer, more appropriate one.

He whispers against his lips, barely audible, “Can’t believe y’my fucking wife, m’fucking heart.”

As people are moving towards the reception area, Harry manages to find a secluded area of the outside gardens where there is no one in sight.

“Baby, baby, y’married me,” Harry is nearly chanting, like he’s in disbelief, at the same time he’s cornering his new bride up against the brick wall with his mouth trailing sloppy wet kisses down her shoulder.

“Mmm, it was everything I ever imagined, it was so beautiful. Everything I had imagined for our day,” YN replies blissfully, hands running carefully through his meticulously styled hair.

When he bends down and lifts up the bottom of her dress, she giggles when he ducks his head underneath all the tulle and fabric, finding a very skimpy pair of white lace panties that are supposed to be saved for later.

“Harry,” YN scolds half-heartedly, it would only take one person to find them in this undeniable inappropriate situation but she willingly let him push her further against the brick and take one of her legs over his shoulder.

“Baby, these fuckin’ panties,” He groans, muffled by the barrier of the heavy fabric, and she hisses when pulls them down to the thick of her thighs and his mouths finds her center within moments.

“Fu-fuck,” She hisses, trying to keep her moans down as he wastes no time in pushing in two thick fingers to curve towards her front as his tongue laps quickly and sloppily on her clit until it feels like she’s about to explode.

“S’right, fuckin’ m’cunt. I have it f’the rest of my life, found the best one,” Harry mutters against her wet skin, almost to himself like he can’t even believe the words, before he’s back to speeding up his fingers to match the rhythm of his mouth until she’s quivering for a whole other reason now.

It takes a few minutes for Harry to calm himself down enough to be able to go into the reception, he tells YN that he can’t even look at her right now because if he does he’ll be perpetually hard throughout the whole thing.

The reception is more of a dinner than a party.

Fairy lights strung above the two long tables where decadent, mouth-watering food was served with the orchestra playing light, melodic music in the background. ***

It was perfect.

Their family drank, laughed, ate, and were merry.

Everyone was basking in each other’s company, congratulating the new couple, and enjoying all the beauty that was surrounding them at the castle.

There is not much more to say than that.

The honeymoon suite was located on one of the highest floors of the castle, away from all of the other wedding guests and staff.

YN was sure it was beautiful but from the moment she was carried over the threshold, she didn’t see anything but her new husband - he was blinding in his beauty. His skin was glowing, a slight sheen of sweat from the reception, and the still warm bite in the breeze. ***

“Sweetheart, baby. Please let m’undress you, y’my wife,” Harry pleas softly, his hands are everywhere - her face, her shoulders, hips - continuously wandering as if it’s impossible to find one place to settle.

“Please, c’mon. I need you, H,” She agrees, letting him take down the zipper on the side of her gown.

The expensive garment discarded on the floor in a pool of fabric as he fully takes in her lingerie set. ***

“Fuck me, darlin’,” Harry chuckles in amazement, fingertips tracing over the delicate lace that was stitched by Alessandro Michele himself for the bride, "Y’body is a god damn dream, look at you. - fuck.”

“Please,” His wife whimpers, voice desperate as his light and careful touches are no longer enough.

She needs him close, she needs her husband.

“Okay, okay,” He simpers, moving her back until he can have her right where he wants her, on her back in the middle of the massive, blanket-ridden bed - her white lingerie standing out against the dark duvet.

Harry had always imagined this night.

To have someone laid out underneath him.

No rush, no urgency but to truly, physically show that person through touch that you love them.

He starts near her collarbone, feathery heated kisses that warm her skin as she welcomes him with heavy weight on top of her so eager he wasn’t even undressed yet.

When his mouth finds her nipples through the sheer fabric, she pushes her chest up in encouragement as he bites at the nubs with sharp but careful teeth that wet the fabric.

“It feels so good, baby,” YN mewls, letting him nip and suck for a moment before pushing him up until he’s rid of every inch of fabric that had been covering his body.

“M’always gonna make y’feel good. I’ll fuck you wherever, wehenver cause you’re m’wife,” Harry grunts, impatiently reaching behind to unclasp the corset until her breasts spill free and jiggle in a way that makes his mouth water.

“Wait, wait,” YN puts a hand to his cheek when he already has his mouth darting out to lap at her hardened nipple.

“Don’t make me wait, m’heart,” Harry grumbles with a furrowed brow, his hand still unable to stop from reaching up to palm at her full breasts, thumbs rolling the nipples as he stares fiercely up at her.

“You know how you got me a present?” YN murmurs, biting back a whimper when a zip of electricity shoots from her nipple down to where she’s already dripping for him, “I got you something too.”

Harry’s face relaxes, it’s like he finds his grounding again, “Baby, didn’t need t’get me anythin’. Y’the best fuckin’ gift I could have gotten. Does look beautiful sittin’ between y’tits though.”

His new wife giggles, “Well I really hope you like mine….it’s non-refundable.”

He looks at her with confusion even more so when she wriggles down her panties and flips on her belly with her arms resting under chin.

Of course, Harry finds it immediately and she can tell by the deep, pleased growl he emits from the back of his throat, “You fuckin’ didn’t.”

“I did.”

It was his name, small and cursive right on her bum cheek.

After they got engaged, he went out and got her name tattooed on his pec - much to her dismay.

She had never talked about returning the favor and had kept it the ultimate surprise.

“I think I almost just came from this,” Harry rasps, his fingers tracing the small ink over and over in awe, “Baby, y’put m’name on your bum. It makes y’look like my property, sweetheart.”

“I am yours,” YN giggles, yelping when she feels his teeth graze the sensitive skin before he’s suckling and licking at his name - can’t take his eyes off the beauty of her.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ are,” He agrees whole-heartedly, his hands calming to cup and palm at her cheeks as he fawns over his wedding present, “This is the best present I’d ever fuckin’ received, fuck - never goin’ to get over this.”

He doesn’t want to look away from the tattoo but knows how he wants to fuck his wife for the first time so he flips her onto her back once again, lips finding hers.

She whispers, hand wrapping around his cock, “Still have to pay you back for earlier.”

“No blowies tonight, pet. We’re goin’ to do it the right way, m’gonna make love to you,” Harry murmurs, his lips finding hers as he bats her hand away to grasp at his thick base. He teases the sensitive head over her clit and entrance a few times before slowly sinking in.

“Ohh, been ready for you all day. You looked like a fucking wet dream standing at the alter, waiting for me,” YN sighs happily, wriggling her hips to adjust a bit before she spreads her legs and lets Harry rest in between them, “Ever since I saw you in the suit, I’ve been waiting.”

“Yeah, baby? I can tell, y’so wet, warm f’me,” Harry praises, his movements are slow and unrushed, their hips meeting gently as he pushes in each time with care, “Can’t believe y’gonna let me have this for the rest of m’life.”

“I love you so so much,” She utters breathlessly as he continues to make her feel so fucking full - emotionally and physically, “Best husband ever, can’t believe it.”

Harry chuckles tenderly, “Baby, I need y’to come soon. I’m so close, never come this quick. The thought of y’being my wife is making it impossible to last then with the tatto-”

YN soothes his hair in understanding, pushing up to meet their lips and allow their tongues to dance as he lifts her thigh against his hip to thrust in with a bit more force. His thumb comes to her clit to spur her along which doesn’t take much with how aroused she’s been all day.

Harry follows right after, much to his embarrassment of his lack of stamina but can you blame him? He has the hottest fucking wife on the planet.

“Round two?” YN smirks as he leans down to pepper kisses all over her cheeks. She knows the night has just begun.

“Mmm,” He agrees instantly, “Now that we made love, m’gonna fuck y’from behind so I can watch my name jiggle on your arse.”

And that’s what he does. It takes nearly no rebound time, flips her on her belly again to gaze and worship his name as he fills out in no time again. His fingers occasionally dip back between her thighs to tease at her entrance before he swipes her own wetness on the tattoo to lick it off.

She’s tired, exhausted from the events of the day but wants to reach that last orgasm before sleep overtakes them.

On her hands and knees, Harry doesn’t pound into her like he normally would.

Instead, he eases back in with eyes darting between his wedding present and where they’re connecting, his thumb diligently rubbing hard and steady circle on her nerves.

“C’mon wifey, need y’to not be stubborn,” Harry goads, feeling his release coming again - he pinches her clit with just enough pressure that has her whining before Harry has to hold her up by the waist as she quivers.

It has him finishing right after with a gentle smack to her bumcheek, the skin already tender and sore from all of his attention on the spot as it was.

“I loved your vows,” YN murmurs against his chest. He had wrapped her up in one of the plush blankets and he had pulled on a tight pair of briefs and they were laying on a lounge chair on the blacony under the italian stars.

“I loved yours just as much, y’did crack the code m’love ‘cause now I’m yours forever,” Harry rumbles, his voice raspy with drowsiness.

Little did they know that in a few short years, they would be back under these italian stars with knowledge that they were growing a little product of their love in her belly.

A litte baby named Ivy, just like the beautiful, lucious nature that had decorated the place in magneificent as they spoke vows - dedicating their lives to each other.

if you’ve ask to be on my taglist and you’re not here - please check your settings because i’ve tried to add you and it didn’t work.

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soulmate-game · 4 years

Text

I was feeling angsty. Read at your own risk, there is very little comfort in this and a whole shit ton of hurt. Probably a bunch of emotional triggers, so seriously be careful guys.

—*—*—*—*—*

Liquid pain ran down her arm like poison, the slash in it burning hot and spreading it’s agony like an invisible waterfall inside her flesh. But she did not grip her bicep where the wound had been inflicted, her gaze blank as she forced herself to hide her turmoil behind glass eyes. Her brother’s snarling face was only inches in front of her own, his katana moving from her arm to her throat.

“Useless! To think we share any blood relation is humiliating!” He growled at her. She did not move, did not emote. Her blades fans, the weapon she was loved most, lay half-opened on the ground beside her. Abandoned. But she knew Damian’s sword would not kill her. Blood family was a bond that was not to be severed by murder unless ordered by Ra’s or justified by the murdered family member in question betraying the League. She had done nothing to betray the Shadows, and Ra’s would not waste time and energy, or the breath it would require, to order her death. Just as he would not waste the precious waters of the Pit to bring her back again. She would not die today, and she knew it.

Sure enough, it was only a few more insults in various languages before Damian Al-Ghul stepped back and scowled down at the blood on his blade. Her blood. “If you don’t even have the stomach for real combat, you do not belong here,” he spat.

“That is where we agree, Grandson,” Ra’s sharp voice echoed through the room, his beady eyes never once bothering to glance at his granddaughter. “Maria, you are hereby stripped of the name Al-Ghul. Banishment from the League is the only mercy you shall be granted for your dishonor on our blood. Be useful and use whatever is left of your mistake of a life to stay out of the League’s way. Shall I, Damian, or your mother ever see your face again, your burial will follow shortly after. Am I understood?”

“Yes Gr— yes, Ra’s Al-Ghul.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Maria Al-Ghul was seven years old when she was disowned and sent away from the League of Shadows without so much as a penny to her name. She was only allowed to take the change of clothes she carried, and one small backpack’s worth of items. Her mother— Talia— had watched vigilantly as she packed those items, assuring that Maria did not take anything of worth.

The girl traveled by foot, too small to get away with driving a vehicle. Unless she could manage to steal a motorbike— she knew how to adjust the seats and pedals on most models to accommodate her size. But she was far too far away from civilization for that.

She knew that most of the League expected her to die in the jungles that surrounded the temple. After all, there were ninjas scattered throughout it with strict orders to kill anyone who was not one of them. And Maria now fit that description.

But if there was one thing Maria knew better than anything else, it was how to hide. How to hide feelings, intentions, involuntary movements, or her whole body in almost any setting. She covered herself in mud, matted her hair with dirt and took off her shoes. Barefoot was always quieter, and her feet would be more sensitive to any change in terrain. She would have to move more slowly and be on the lookout for traps, ground litter that could harm her, or dangerous wildlife, but she would be much harder to track.

It took her a month, but she made it to her first Tibetan city alive and decently healthy. She begged for food for a day before snatching a child’s outfit off of some hanging laundry lines and stealing the first decent vehicle she found. It was an old moped, but it beat walking and was already built small. She made it work.

That was how she spent the majority of the next year. She traveled from town to town, stealing what she needed until she could earn money normally. She used that money to buy herself a fake identity, even if she had to use the skills she had hoped to never need again in order to afford it.

Marinette Shiwang was born when she was already eight years old.

It was only a year after her new identity was created when she bumped into a woman in a street market. That was nothing new, those places could get crowded. But when Marinette looked up and saw valuable bracelets and necklaces of gold and jade, she knew she needed at least one. The money she would get for it would have her living comfortably for a short while. So Marinette’s theft-experienced fingers darted out and unclasped one bracelet in a fluid movement. It took less than a second. She barely had the piece of jewelry in her hand before she started to take off, hoping to lose herself in the crowd.

But a small hand clamped around her shoulder, a sturdy thumb pressing against a very vulnerable spot right at the back of Marinette’s neck, at the base of her skull. A clear threat from somebody with experience.

The sweet voice that followed didn’t match the gesture at all.

“Oh, I need that back dear. It was a gift from my husband, you understand.”

Marinette did. She cared about survival more. The small girl twisted, knocking the hand away from her before it could do damage and darting down a side street. The woman followed. It took three hours, but Marinette decided she had finally lost her pursuer before slumping down in the tiny, closet-sized bedroom of her cheap apartment. Her eyes closed for only a second before the window opened, and the smell of newly-baked sesame buns filtered through.

It was the woman and a much taller, much more masculine man. He was practically a giant, reminding Marinette of a certain member of the League that she used to know. They were both smiling.

“My wife figured you would be more open to an exchange than just giving up the bracelet for free,” the man’s voice was deep and inviting. “You can eat as many buns as your stomach can handle, if you give it back.”

Marinette accepted. Mostly because of her fear for people who could track her to her home so easily, when she had been certain she had not been followed. The League has tuned her senses well, there was no way the couple had been close enough to see her when she made it to her apartment. Yet they were still there somehow. Then, it also had to do with the promise of food, and the heavenly smell of the food itself. And then, lastly, Marinette was tired. She didn’t like stealing, it was just a necessity. She would not hurt these people over a mere bracelet that she wished she didn’t have to take in the first place.

Useless, she thought. So much of a bleeding heart that she just gave up what could have paid for two months rent. Too soft to even protect herself. The Al-Ghuls has been right. She was a waste of space and time.

Marinette was ten years old when she became a Dupain-Cheng. Somehow, that strange, dangerous couple had become her new family. Not even she knew how. But she was grateful— they took her back to Paris with them and she didn’t have to worry about rent, or food, or money anymore.

She vowed, that day that she received her spacious attic bedroom, that she would repay them. She would make herself useful, for the first time in her life. She would stay out of their way, be the perfect most unobtrusive daughter ever. She would help in the bakery, keep a smile on her face so that they never doubted that they were doing a good job. So that they never wasted time worrying about her. She smiled, and laughed, and became successful for them. Competent and reliable even though her memories would sink into her dreams every day and make it near impossible to drag herself out of bed in the mornings.

And then, when Marinette Dupain-Cheng was thirteen, she was given a pair of magical earrings and a tiny fairy-god. And Tikki was thorough, at least. Diligent in her explanation. Marinette listened to every word, dread seeping in as she doubted her ability to carry out such an important task. Save a city? Defeat someone much more experienced and magically powerful than her?

Useless little Maria could never. Slightly less useless Marinette could never.

She was only ever meant to play a support role. Stay on the background and make everyone else shine, without ever succeeding in anything worth noting. That was who she was.

But then Tikki gave her the Warning. The catch that came with the Ladybug abilities, and Marinette felt the long-rusted determination in her begin to fire up again. Maybe she could be Ladybug. Maybe she could be useful, at least this once. At least for just this one scenario. She could fight and win the war against Hawkmoth, and that achievement alone could make her happy. Let her die knowing she did something worthwhile.

—*—*—*—*—*

Damian Wayne was seventeen when he and his family found out about the Paris Situation, and immediately went over to offer help. Damian Wayne was seventeen when he watched Ladybug stumble at the sight of him, and immediately run away. But the two of them were twins, and though twin telepathy might be a myth they always did have a certain instinct when it came to one another.

Damian Wayne was Seventeen when he said, aloud on the top of a random Parisian building and surrounded by his family—

“My sister is Ladybug.”

Damian didn’t wait for their reactions, having entirely forgotten about the existence of his father and brothers, before taking off after his spotted sibling.

—*—*—*—*—*

“I knew you were alive.”

In hindsight, those probably weren’t the best words for him to say when Maria clearly thought he was still an assassin.

Damian watched as Marinette spun to face him, her face so much more expressive than he remembered. He could actually see the resignation in the slump in her shoulders, he could feel the fear in her bluebell eyes. The eyes she was lucky enough to get from their father while he was cursed with their mother’s green irises. He used to envy that about her, especially after joining the BatClan. But now he only felt comfort when he looked into her eyes. Comfort that she was different than him, and always had been. In the best of ways.

He watched as his sister was enveloped by a bright flash of pink light, detransforming right in front of him. And without the mask, it was impossible to ignore the relation between them. She had their father’s eyes and nose where he had their mother’s, but other than that they were almost carbon copies of one another. Her blue-black hair was pulled back into twin braids though, something he noted distantly as oddly fitting. They suited her, he thought.

But all those thoughts instantly turned to dust as she dropped to her knees in front of him, head bowed in complete submission.

“Tom and Sabine are innocent,” she told him. “They adopted me out of nothing but goodwill, and they have been nothing but good to me. I never told them a single word about my origin, I swear it on our blood. They think I am just an orphan that was abandoned in Hong Kong—“

“Maria—“

“—so please, don’t harm them. I’m begging you. And there is no need for you to waste energy killing me. You are welcome to stay in Paris as long as no harm comes to Tom and Sabine, but just wait and watch. I know who Hawkmoth is, and our final plan is almost ready. I’ll have him taken down by next week. Just— wait until then, please. My death will take care of itself afterwards, but Paris deserves to be free, and killing me now will set this entire war against Hawkmoth back by at least a year. And I also need that time to pick my successor—“

“Maria! I am not here to kill you!” Damian had to yell to get her to stop babbling and begging. She froze, but didn’t dare to sit up or even raise her head. So Damian took the initiative and sat down on the ground with her, though he kept his distance so that he didn’t scare her too badly. He couldn’t blame her for her reaction, it had been ten years since they had seen one another and their parting hadn’t exactly been pleasant.

But he had changed a lot since then, matured a lot.

“I am completely disconnected from the League,” he admitted. Of the blurry memories he had of her, he did remember that being blunt was the best way to handle information with her. Beating around the bush had always done nothing but make her exceptionally nervous and jittery. Sure enough, his admission was enough to make her look up at him with disbelieving eyes. He risked a small grin. “I didn’t come in my old uniform, did I?” He gestured to himself in the bright Robin colors. Sure enough, Marinette’s rapid blinking proved his theory that she hadn’t even registered his clothing at all to be true. She had run as soon as she recognized his face.

But Marinette did not speak. She sat up a little, still eyeing him cautiously. But her silence helped him finally realize where they were— where she had led him.

The sounds of traffic and other big city noises were all muted, as if muffled by several layers of cloth. Shadows fell over them abundantly, and they were surrounded by dilapidated concrete walls.

She had brought him to an abandoned area far from any activity, where a body would take ages to find. She had then disarmed herself of her only weapon, her magic suit, and had gotten on the ground in total submission.

She had purposely given him the perfect setting to kill her, where there would be no witnesses and plenty of time before her body would be found for him to escape. That realization hit Damian square the chest, leaving him breathless for a moment.

“I am not here to kill anybody,” he reiterated, his voice noticeably much gentler than before. “Not you, not you adoptive parents, nobody. I left the league when I was eleven. Mother—“ he took a breath, but Maria deserved to know. “— she cloned me. Her clone killed me. He no longer exists, but that is of no consequence. She killed me, she and Grandfather disowned me when I made it clear I was not returning. Father— our father,” he was insistent as he leaned forward, not continuing until she met his gaze. “You remember who our father is, right? Bruce Wayne? Mother had dropped me off to be raised with him when I was ten, but of course it was all just one of her plots. It was her miscalculation though, because I ended up growing close to them. To Father and his adopted children. You would get along with Gra— with Dick, the best I think. Although T— Jason would also be a prime contender as your favorite brother, I think. He shares your love of motor bikes, if that hasn’t changed?” She just stared at him, clearly confused and experiencing a lot of feelings at once. He stayed silent for a moment to allow her to sort through them a little.

“I’m Robin now,” he made his voice quieter, but still easy for her to hear. “I’m a member of the Bats. I’m sure they would all welcome you, if you chose to meet them. Though be warned, they can be quite in—“

“Why are you doing this?” Marinette’s voice was barely above a whisper, Damian almost didn’t hear her. But he did, and fell silent. He watched as his sister licked her lips and tried to find the right words to say. “If what you say is true… you have a perfectly good family. Brothers, Father, a comfortable life. Why follow me then? Why offer me… any of that?”

Damian frowned. He didn’t remember Maria being so gloomy, but then again she had been raised to never show her emotions. Maybe, after years away from the temple like him, her true feelings were just easier for him to see now. Closer to the surface.

“I want to get to know you— to get to know my sister, again,” he told her. “Don’t tell them, but Father and the others have taught me to appreciate family. The way I treated you when we were children was not right, and though it was heavily influenced by Mother and Grandfather, I want to make up for it nonetheless. Maybe we can get to know the new us, together?”

Marinette’s eyes went wide with disbelief, but then she clenched her jaw and shook her head.

“We can’t.”

“... right, I understand if you do not forgive me. I didn’t even consider—“

“It isn’t that,” Marinette was quick to correct him. “When I said that my death will handle itself, I mean it, Damian. The Ladybug… the earrings that give me my powers, come with a price,” she absently ran her fingertips over the unassuming black studs in her ears. “If a Ladybug uses the miraculous for more than three years, the powers of Creation will demand to be balanced. Already, the Miraculous is powering itself on nothing but my life force now. Once I defeat Hawkmoth, there will be no need for Ladybug anymore. The moment I take the earrings off, they will cease keeping me alive.”

Damian’s face fell. No— no, that wasn’t right. He was finally able to find her, finally able to apologize and try to fix his past mistakes. This couldn’t be how the reunion went. This couldn’t—

“Not even the Lazarus Pits can bring me back from a Miraculous death,” Marinette went on. “So you and your family should go. You don’t need to be here when I—“ Marinette paused, gasping. “Damian, why are you crying?! Stop that!” Her voice became desperate, Marinette crawling over to him as quickly as she could and wiping away his tears as if they were something terrifying. Damian wasn’t sobbing or making any noise, it was just a silent stream of tears running down both cheeks as he stared at her wordlessly.

“I…” he finally managed to choke out. “I wanted to make up for everything. I wanted for us to be twins again, together.”

Marinette paused, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “I know a magic user who can erase your memories of me,” she offered. “But you don’t have to feel guilty for anything. You never said anything that wasn’t true.”

Damian’s green eyes widened. He had said nothing but cruel things to her, that last year they spent together as children. Did she really believe all of that? Did he and their childhood really affect her self worth this severely and irreversibly?

“Maria—“

“My name is Marinette, actually,” she corrected him with a small smile. “I’m not Maria Al-Ghul anymore. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is actually useful, Damian. I can actually do things right— I’m doing something right right now. Beating Hawkmoth will be the first worthwhile thing I’ve ever done, don’t you see? Once it’s all over, I will have brought honor back to our blood. I’ll have proved to you that I really am your twin, that I wasn’t a mistake. That I was born for a reason,” Marinette’s eyes got dreamy even as Damian just felt like he was impaled again, this time by a spike of ice rather than a sword. “And I’ll be able to die before I ruin it. It’s a perfect scenario.”

“A perfect scenario implies that nothing important is going to be lost,” Damian breathed. Marinette just blinked.

“Yeah, I know. That’s the plan. Defeat Hawkmoth, save Paris, and nobody dies.”

“But you’re going to die!” He growled. Marinette leaned back, bewildered by his violent reaction.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I actually matter. Nobody needs me. Tom and Sabine might be hurt for a while, but they will recover just fine. And it’s not like I have friends or any—“

“Stop worrying about other people, damnit!” Damian surged forward, grabbing her shoulders hard enough to bruise and shaking her a little. “Even back then! Even when we were seven, you threw down your blades because you were more worried about hurting me than you were about how Grandfather would react, even though you knew he would be tempted to kill you for what he thought was cowardice! You never put yourself first, and it’s finally starting to piss me off!”

“Damian—“

“No, listen to me!” He shook her again, his tear stained cheeks only making his glare all the more potent as he stared right into her eyes. “You are alive, and your life matters! You were never worthless or useless, you just didn’t fit what our abusive situation wanted of you. They wanted a cold hearted killer, a tool they could use, and you were always too warm hearted and clever to fit either of those goals. But I did, I was the killer they were looking for and the pawn they wanted. If anything, that makes you better than I ever was! I was too young and naive to see it back then, but I’m trying to make up for it now. You are my sister, whether you go by Maria or Marinette, Al-Ghul or Wayne or Dupain-Cheng, I don’t give a damn! And so help me, even if I have to surgically attach those earrings to your skin, I am not letting you die before you gain at least a modicum of respect for yourself. Do you understand me?”

A wet sniffle met his ears, and he pulled Marinette in for a hug. She returned it weakly, sniveling and sobbing into his cape.

“D-d-Damian?”

“Yes, Shaqiqa?”

Another sniffle.

“I-is it really o-okay for me to stay with you?”

“Of course.”

“I-is… is it really oka-ay for… for me to live?”

Damian’s arms tightened around her. “Always. Always, always.”

Marinette buried her face into his shoulder, taking a deep shuddering breath.

“Th-then… I wanna try.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Not sorry. Ha 😎

#mlb x dc #maribat #platonic daminette #bio!dad au #Bio!Dad Bruce Wayne #sibling Daminette #angst #heavy angst #hurt no comfort #or very little comfort anyway #ml x dc #platonic brucinette #twin AU

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vidavalor · 3 years

Text

Bucky’s dual-era dog tags in TFATWS (and when & where he decides to wear them) are giving me some SamBucky-related vibes...

...in addition to the just interesting stuff related to Bucky’s various identity issues. So let’s talk the dog tags.

First things first, these really do not seem like they’re Steve’s dog tags-- they’re Bucky’s own. Why? Look at the promo still below which is the best view I’ve seen of them in TFATWS. Notice that they are not of the same era. One of the dog tags is a WW2-era tag-- the darker, wider one is not only period-accurate for WW2, it’s identical to the ones Bucky was wearing during WW2 in the movie canon already, most visibly in the “let’s hear it for Captain America!” moment. The *other* dog tag Bucky is wearing in TFATWS, though, is of a more modern issue. It is the kind that would be made for soldiers now and over the last couple of decades. So, how does that mean that they’re Bucky’s and not just Steve’s and what does this have to do with Sam?

Dog tags are only meant to be separated off the chain in the case of death, as everyone probably knows. Soldiers wear two tags with the same information on them into battle so that one remains on them if they die and the other can be pulled off the chain as proof of a fallen soldier during battle, with the army then usually passing the single chain to next of kin. If Bucky were wearing a pair of WW2-era dog tags in TFATWS, I’d say it was more possible that he was wearing Steve’s tags because Steve didn’t actually have them on when he went into the ice so, somewhere, Steve’s pair of WW2-era dog tags exist as a set, still on the chain. They probably wound up in the Smithsonian at some point but back to Bucky-- his, based on the canon we know, would have been separated after the freight car.

Bucky was wearing his dog tags when he fell off the train car because he was at war. We know that the Russians found Bucky and then handed him back over to Zola. The Russians, to cover this up, would have taken one of Bucky’s dog tags and given it to the U.S. Army, claiming that they had found them washed up on the shore near where he fell or something. What did the U.S. Army do then? They didn’t know what Zola had done to Bucky beforehand that would enable him to survive the fall so they wouldn’t think to question the Russians on this-- they’d just be like hey, thanks for this and we’ll continue to do the same for you. They would have taken the dog tag and marked Bucky off as dead and then done the next thing, which is to give the dog tag to the soldier’s next of kin.

Bucky died during war time and everyone knew he and Steve had been friends before the war so whatever general got the dog tag probably just gave it to Steve. Steve *could* have given it to Bucky’s sister at some point-- and we know she exists in the MCU because Bucky briefly mentioned her in TFATWS but we don’t know if he’s gone to see her yet-- but we also have no idea what she’s like in the MCU or if Steve might have just decided to keep the dog tag for himself. Given the trauma Steve went through of witnessing Bucky’s death and them not finding Bucky’s body, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume that even if Steve was the one who told Rebecca about Bucky’s death and all that, that he kept Bucky’s dog tag. The other one, that was on Bucky at the time when he was given back to Zola, was destroyed by Zola during him being brainwashed into The Winter Soldier.

So, maybe through seeing Rebecca but probably really through Steve, Bucky gets one of his WW2 era dog tags back. Given that he isn’t seen wearing dog tags again until TFATWS, it’s likely that Steve gave it back to Bucky sometime in the Endgame aftermath before Steve went back in time. Let’s unpack how Steve’s heart was in the right place but that was a bit of a loaded gift here...

Free from being brainwashed-- as free as he’s been *since* WW2 anyway-- Bucky is essentially handed by Steve the symbol of what he just can’t be anymore-- that guy that Steve used to know. He’s still somewhat that guy but he’s been through so much that he’s not going to ever go back. Steve is into going back-- back to the same girl, back to the same era, back to a time when things felt less confusing and safer to him, where things will hurt less. Bucky has always been the absolute opposite of this-- while Steve was always desperate to fit the mode of the model man of the WW2 era, Bucky-- a good-looking, able-bodied soldier who can hot-blooded American male with the best of them-- was never a man of his time, always a bit ahead of it. Steve is Captain America-- Bucky is Captain World of Tomorrow. He’s more realistic about what America is because as a guy putting on a show for the world to pass in the society that Steve worships, Bucky has a very different perspective on all of it than Steve did. (See also, obviously, why Bucky and Sam understand one another and are better for one another than either of them with Steve.) Bucky is touched that Steve had this and is trying to do something nice by giving it back to him but it’s the singular dog tag bearing ‘James Buchanan Barnes’ like it’s literally being his own next of kin at this point as Steve’s about to go back into time-- it’s being handed a reminder of the demise of his sense of self and his *literal almost actual death* right when he’s trying to figure out how he’s going to view himself and what he’s going to do in this world now that he’s going to stay in the present.

So, he’s not wearing it. He doesn’t really know what to do with it. He’s with Sam at the time (maybe not *with* Sam but I mean they’re sharing a lot of the same space, either at the Avengers compound or Sam’s apartment, in the whole Endgame aftermath time period but pre-TFATWS) and Sam sees it and Bucky tells him he’s putting it away because he can’t wear it. Steve was trying to do a nice thing but Bucky’s like I can’t wear one of these things, my old WW2 one-- it’d be like I was a walking corpse. Sam agrees. So, from here two things could have happened...

One is that Bucky could have made the decision to just get himself a modern secondary tag but keep in mind that Dr. Raynor actually had to clear Bucky for active duty and that wouldn’t have happened right away. More importantly, some military guys basically never take off their dog tags but we have evidence that Bucky used to actually *not* be like this so much. While he had them on during the war, much has been made (and should be made, for sure) about how Bucky’s wardrobe changes after his first encounter with Zola compared to when he first left for war. The Bucky in uniform on the double date with Steve is spiffy and spotless; the Bucky in the bar with Peggy and the Howlies is barely hanging on. The most major difference is how much he pushes his uniform away from his neck and stops wearing a hat-- some have theorized that Zola was trying an early version of the mind crown on Bucky before Steve found him, prompting Bucky to develop a trauma-induced need to have things away from his neck.

This actually doesn’t change that much after Civil War, when he’s free from his handlers and on the run. By necessity, there’s a baseball cap at times but he wears a lot of henleys and there’s not actually any necklaces or dog tags until TFATWS. So, what changes? The addition of the modern tag and his reclaiming of the idea of being a soldier. So, the two options for how Bucky got the modern dog tag are really either a) he went and had one made for himself or b) Sam gave it to him. Let’s look at why the former would be kind of a healthy choice for Bucky but why it’s probably not likely to be what happened.

One scene that stands out for me is the single scene in TFATWS where it’s really obvious that Bucky is *not* wearing the dog tags. They show up all over the place-- he has them on for basically the entire series. He’s even *sleeping* in them, waking up with them on during a nightmare where they’re prominent in the scene and then also in its contrasting scene, on the couch in Delacroix. So, the one scene we don’t see Bucky wearing them? His first therapy scene with Raynor.

It’s made pretty clear that while Bucky got a thing or two out of his time with Raynor, it’s not really because of Raynor herself, who is basically a terrible trauma therapist. It’s also clear that Bucky doesn’t trust her and for good reason. We see that he really shouldn’t-- she’s forcing him into rules he can’t actually live by instead of helping him find ways through those scenarios when they invitably pop up (“don’t hurt anyone” is a recipe for failure) and she’s treating a man violated in every way under the sun in a way that’s invasive. She’s monitoring his phone. She threatens his compliance by *bringing out a book that she’s writing his secrets in* like... this isn’t the healthiest scenario here. What we also see is that Bucky subtly rebels against her. He somehow got himself cleared for active duty by her so he’s been b.s.ing her. He is later seen with a smart phone he knows how to use at Zemo’s (and had to have something on which he was online dating profile perusing) but Raynor thinks he just owns an old flip phone. So, it’s something really interesting that this is the one scene where we can’t see the chain of his dog tags. Why? Why doesn’t he want Raynor to know about them?

Because he’s hiding what they mean to him. If he wore them in, he’d have to talk to her about them. The dog tags represent his real efforts to reconcile his identity and what he wants that to look like-- he’s vulnerable about them because they represent what little hope he has left. If Bucky had gone out and gotten that modern dog tag for himself and began wearing them, it’d be something healthy to share with Raynor. He’d want to show it off, all eager to show the doc the decision she’d see as healthy and let her analyze it with him. We know that Bucky is struggling to reconcile his identity-- it’s literally his whole story arc in TFATWS-- and yet, he’s wearing dog tags that cut to the chase of it, in a lot of ways. Which is why those dog tags were on in New York all the time except for with Raynor-- why he wore them to bed, even-- and why he leaves them on when he goes to see Sam.

Sam got Bucky that newer tag. Probably when Raynor cleared him as a congratulations thing or maybe just when he saw Bucky left with a friend who went back in time and left him with nothing but a notebook of things to check out and a corpse necklace and felt for him. In essence, Bucky is wearing around another pair of dual identities in TFATWS-- the Bucky who died in WW2 and the Bucky who is still alive again now in the present-- as given back/given to him and represented by the once and future Captain Americas, who also happen to be the guys he’s loved (in different ways) the most in his life. That he’s wearing them is a sign that he wants to be Sgt. Barnes again-- this newer version of himself. It’s progress from the man who shuddered at stuff around his neck and TFATWS shows us that in other scenes as well, in other ways (his hoodie & jacket combo when they go to talk to Zemo; his signature jacket with a higher collar than we’ve seen him in since he left for war.) The wardrobe choices show an evolution-- a willingness to try to a new place of managing what he’s been through.

But wearing those dog tags around Sam in TFATWS? (And wearing them when he and Sam weren’t really communicating ahead of it?) Yeah. The parallel to Bucky showing up in Delacroix with a whole new outfit for Sam’s new identity as Captain America is that it was Sam who gave Bucky the modern half of his dog tags (and the chain, which is lighter silver and from the present era) and that’s why Bucky has been wearing them. Steve gave him a reminder of the guy he used to be, even if that guy was still pretty dead but Sam gave him a duplicate-- one that represented the guy who belongs to more modern times and is alive. One tag is death; two is life.

#sambucky #bucky barnes #sam wilson #steve rogers #tfatws #caatws #the winter soldier #winterfalcon #marvel #mcu

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baepop · 4 years

Text

Muse

You meet a quiet painter that helps you manage your anger.

Word Count: 4.7k

Pairing: You x Taehyung

Genre: Slight fluff, slight angst, Smut

A/N: I couldn’t get this idea out of my head, so I had to sit down and write it out this afternoon. I hope you guys like it 🥺

What are you thinking?

The pinkish hue of your cheeks had long subsided now, though the heaving in your chest still remained albeit at a minimal level. The part in your lips prevailed as well, if only to huff the stray hairs falling over your face occasionally.

The rest of your hair was sprawled across the back of his couch like wild seaweed. Your favorite necklace rested in the crook of your collarbone as the dainty chain tickled your sensitive neck. Goosebumps broke out across your arms as they, too, were strewn across the couch. Your pose wasn’t ideal, but you knew it was exactly how he wanted you, so you wouldn’t get up to close the window letting in a cold draft.

His apartment was quaint, a studio on the upper west side that resided above a bodega and a taqueria. You’ve had many opportunities to take it all in, yet somehow there was always something new to discover whenever your eyes wandered.

You pondered if this was all a big metaphor with some grand artistic meaning about how it somehow represented his mental state. How he, such a quiet and minimal person could be happy in such a cluttered apartment on one of the busiest streets in the city was beyond you. You peered at the ostentatious wallpaper juxtaposed with the exposed brick behind him. Paintings lent up against the walls on the ground, stacked against each other, even in the kitchen. Only one word came to mind: loud.

Your eyes eventually came back to him, and when they did, the pink hue returned except this time it was in the form of a blush. He had been eyeing you carefully, waiting to make eye contact with you. When you did, he shot you that lopsided smirk you knew so well before he returned to his canvas. It was his way of telling you to stop moving your head so much.

You leaned your head against the back of the couch again and didn’t move until he finally put his brush down. He stood and backed away from his painting to gain some perspective, deciding if he was truly finished or not.

You’d once heard that paintings are truly never finished, it was just a matter of when the artist was willing to stop. Since then, you’d always wondered when Taehyung would deem it acceptable to put the brush down, when he’d feel that he had done everything he could to capture your essence. You knew there had to be something to it, since every time you’d gaze at the finished product it’d take your breath away.

He was always able to capture your inner feelings with eerie accuracy, which was something that endlessly amazed you.

So many afternoons spent in his apartment, you venting about the latest thing that got your blood to boil while he focused on his artwork. And each time, as you’d emptied your brain of all its toxic contents, he’d make magic happen on the paper.

You watched Taehyung shake his head then return to his seat and pick up the brush again. Some days it was harder for him to decide when to stop.

As you laid naked on the upholstery basking in the afternoon sun that was now filtering in through the window, you began to reminisce about the first time you had posed for him. Your face had been the color of a tomato from complaining about a rude bus driver and your hair was a matted mess after waking up late for work that morning. You didn’t understand how you could possibly be anyone’s muse, especially that day.

You had been in no mood to sit around for hours in a strange apartment, but you had given Taehyung your word after he kindly texted you asking for you to be his model earlier that week. You both happened to take a recreational art class downtown together a year ago when he had tapped you on the shoulder two hours into the lesson and extended his phone to you for your number. You had tagged along with a friend that day to see what their art class was like, and you were glad you did when you saw how cute the shy guy across the room was up close. You were flattered, to say the least, especially when he had later texted asking you to be his personal model. After all, the class had been about learning to paint the human anatomy, so the proposition hadn’t come from left field.

But when the day finally came, you just weren’t in the mood. You showed up and took your clothes off in a huff, taking a seat in front of him and attempting the breathing exercises your anger management counselor had taught you.

As the hours went by, you realized you probably weren’t making such a good model, and your annoyance turned into shame as he moved away from his painting. When you were just about done getting redressed, he turned the easel towards you and took your breath away just like that.

He was an amazing artist, but more than that he was exceptionally observant. What you expected to be a painting of you being petulant and looking anywhere but at him, was instead of a girl that looked very unsure of herself. He’d even used a cool toned palette exclusively to convey those feelings perfectly. You could only look at him in awe, feeling more vulnerable than you had been with your clothes off a minute ago.

After that, he texted you to come over on a weekly basis, and each time you came and did much of the same. You’d take your clothes off and pose anywhere in front of where his easel stood ready and waiting. And each time, he’d reveal a part of you on the paper that you never cared to show anyone.

You were ashamed to admit that you were always angry stepping into his apartment, but each time he turned the easel towards you, a different girl stared back at you. Sometimes she was scared, sometimes she was hopeful.

A few sessions later, you felt as though you could trust Taehyung, partly because he seemed to be in tune with parts of you that you hadn’t even known existed deep under the many levels of anger and hatred that bubbled noisily at your surface. He made you want to express yourself, which was something that was tough for you to do, even with your therapist. But it wasn’t like there was anything else to fill the silence with during those quiet hours anyway. So every week you’d come over expose yourself to him in more ways than one.

You couldn’t exactly call it talking, though.

You’d tell him about what happened that day to make you mad, and sometimes what made you feel particularly murderous. Few times, you’d express something that made you happy, because those really came few and far between. And whenever you did, you felt oddly childlike, as if expressing happiness was somehow attributed to being young while expressing grievances was adult-like. Or maybe it was the way Taehyung’s eyes brightened whenever you talked about something positive. It made you want to look for more things to be happy about, and that in itself, was childlike, you supposed.

But it was all one sided. After a long time of posing for him, you began to wonder if that was the deal: you’d express yourself for him while he’d express himself on paper. You figured it wasn’t a terrible trade, but as time went by you found it increasingly frustrating not to have any reciprocation on the same level. His artwork was always a reflection of you, and it left a huge mystery about who Taehyung really was inside.

Of course, you were never one to accept things as they were if you weren’t content with them, so you slowly learned how to better communicate with someone who was mute.

At first it annoyed you that he’d never answer your questions, no matter how simple or complex they were. Occasionally, if you asked him something that warranted an obvious “yes”, he’d look up from the canvas and smile with his eyes before returning to the task at hand. Those small notions were enough to hold you over until the next question arose. And it wasn’t as if you weren’t being heard, or seen, for that matter. His paintings of you proved quite the opposite.

Your painting sessions became like therapy, in a way. You always felt alleviated after posing for him, and over time, you came to depend on them. What started off as you warily stepping into his place with your bag clutched around your shoulder checking for hidden cameras and other red flags turned into you bursting in with two coffees in your hand already starting a story about your bitch of a boss. Taehyung found your workplace gossip hilarious, though you’d never know why. And overtime, his chuckle was also something you felt was like a small yet precious gift to you, another facet of the elusive painter who was still inspired by your body countless artworks later.

Taehyung and his cluttered studio.

They started off as something you didn’t want but definitely needed. You found it quite a drag to commute to his side of town regularly especially when you were in a foul mood most days. You often kicked yourself for agreeing to go.

Yet these days, it was quite the opposite. You had managed to make some serious headway with your anger management over the past few months, partly thanks to Taehyung for giving you a space to safely and comfortably talk through your turbulent thoughts and emotions. But now, you looked forward to paying him visits, not because you needed to vent, but because you wanted to see him. You wanted to find more peculiar things in his apartment, to notice something else about his personality that you hadn’t before, to be in his calming presence. Because just as he had plenty of time to stare at every inch of your body’s anatomy, you did so too. And boy, did you take advantage.

You had already been compiling a mental list of things about Taehyung you had noticed over time, intimate details that somehow set the cosmic scoreboard even for how intimately he was getting to know your naked body.

For example, he had a crinkle between his eyebrows when he focused on painting a particular part of you that was giving him trouble to grasp. When he was really focused, he’d jut his tongue out a bit and swipe his bottom lip. He often liked to run his fingers through his hair when leaning away from his portrait to gain some perspective. He always pursed his lips before smiling, as if showing amusement was somehow forbidden. And when he gave way to a smirk, it almost always bloomed into the widest boxiest smile you’d ever seen. His hair had more highlights in it than you cared to count, and he had a weird aversion to coasters. Dried rings on countertops all over his apartment served as unquestionable proof of.

You felt like you were finally starting to grasp what kind of person he was, though it still felt as if you were outside looking in. You wanted to know him like he knew you, but you weren’t sure it was possible to be let into someone’s heart that you’d never had a proper conversation with. It proved to be a very difficult thing. But when your efforts came to fruition, the recompence you felt was beyond words.

It was during a particularly shitty day, not because anything made you mad, but because the weather was god awful. Nonstop rain mixed in with cold weather and persistent winds made for a troublesome commute. And because of it, it took way longer to get to Taehyung’s place than normal. When he opened the door for you an hour after your agreed meetup time, his eyebrows shot up in surprise but nonetheless let you in. His hair was damp and his TV was on, two things you’d never seen before.

You had dropped your bag, coat and wet shoes at the door, hugging yourself and rubbing your arms as you walked further in. His heater was on, so you immediately went to go sit by it. You hadn’t realized your teeth were chattering until he brought you a steaming cup of coffee with a sympathetic look to boot. You took it from his hands gratefully and fixed your trembling fingers over the smooth ceramic, blowing the steam away before taking a tentative sip. Mmm, dark roast.

Taehyung looked over at his art supplies, his fingers twitching when his eyes landed on his recently cleaned brush, poised and ready on the lip of the easel. But when he looked back at you, he decided it was probably best not to have you take your clothes off right away. So he brought a blanket over to you and draped it over your shoulders before returning to his seat on the couch. He was watching a horror movie, which made you all the more curious about this strange boy that never talks. What kind of person watches horror movies alone?

The coffee, blanket and heater warmed you up rather quickly, and soon you had removed your socks and your sweater before settling in to watch the climax of the spooky film. You wanted to wait for him to suggest he still wanted to paint you, feeling perfectly content to just hang out like this. For the next half hour, you both took turns glancing at each other but missing eye contact as if this was a game of tag. You started smiling to yourself, wondering why today felt so different when you had already been meeting for months now.

You bit the inside of your cheek in contemplation before decidedly moving to sit next to him on the couch. He moved over to give you plenty of room before returning your smile politely, though there was an amused glint in his eyes that you hadn’t missed before he turned to give the television his undivided attention. You wondered if this sudden electricity between you both was all in your head. It’s not like you could ask him directly, or if you wanted to for that matter. It’d be embarrassing if he hadn’t developed a crush on you over these past few months as you had with him.

Yet as you sat on the same couch you had lounged in for months, you couldn’t help but wonder what if?

You swallowed thickly and your pulse quickened as you realized how close his hand was to you. It laid in between you both, flat against the cushion. You never noticed how pretty his hands were before now, taking in the light vans that ran up his arms stemming from his slender fingers, Your own fingers twitched before you slowly inched your hand forward nand placed it over his. Your eyes flitted towards him, regarding him warily. He had been watching the movie with his head leaning on his palm, and when your skin made contact, his eyes moved sideways, first taking in the intimate gesture then looking at you briefly before turning back to the television in what looked to be a bored expression.

Your bravery crumbled and you began moving your hand away, but he caught it in his before you could get away and then laced your fingers together. Your eyebrows shot up and you tried to hold back the huge smile on your face as you finished watching the movie with your hands joined in between you both. Taehyung couldn’t help but look over at you a few more times and grinning at the blush on your face, finding it cute how shy you were when it came to making a move.

When the movie had ended, you both sat quietly, playing with each other’s fingers, you giggling girlishly and him enjoying the sight of you being so flustered. Eventually the flashing of his phone screen from across the room caught his attention and he dropped your hand, much to your disappointment. You figured that was as much as you were going to get out of him today, so you began stripping as he busied himself typing away. When he returned to you, he was surprised to see you naked and posed, ready to be his muse again. You furrowed your brow and gestured toward the easel to which he shook his head slowly. Ah, I guess he doesn’t want to paint any more today.

“Sorry, I figured we were still doing that. Should I just go and come back next week?” Taehyung thought for a moment then shook his head again, coming to sit by you once more. “Then… what? You want to sit here and hold hands all day?” Taehyung quirked his brow at you, his lips pursing as he held back a smile. “You’re so frustrating sometimes you know.” This time he smiled and scratched the top of his head while looking at the floor, not offering any semblance of what his plans were.

It’d been a while before something miniscule got you worked up and angry like it used to, so you were surprised when the way his eyes seemed to roll away from you caused a switch inside of you to click. You were growing angrier by the second and you couldn’t seem to stop it.

You huffed as you yanked your top from the floor and pulled it on over your head. You reached for your underwear and kicked your legs through the holes as Taehyung sat and watched you with patient eyes.

“I mean, you could text me or something and let me know not to come over next time. I don’t live close by you know.” You huffed as you stood up to get your sweater that still laid serenely by the radiator. You weren’t looking forward to braving the wet and cold just after you had dried and warmed up.

But before you could march over to it, Taehyung firmly took hold of your wrist, causing you to spin on your heel.

“I’m sorry, don’t go.”

You ogled at him, looking at his lips for a while to see if they’d move again. You couldn’t believe he just talked aloud. When they didn’t, you looked up at his eyes in confusion. His expression was urgent, his pupils deep pools of sincerity that you could swim in forever. He was genuinely apologizing, though you felt there was no need. You already knew you were throwing a fit needlessly.

“…I…”

Taehyung slowly smiled, realizing it was your turn to be speechless. He tugged at your wrist, guiding you to sit on his lap. Your heart raced at the newfound proximity. You were now close enough to smell his bodywash which was enough to make your head swim if it wasn’t for the fact that Taehyung just spoke in the most rich and velvety voice you’d ever heard.

“I thought…you were mute.”

“Selective.” Taehyung held your gaze for a minute as his fingers brushed against the soft skin under your wrist, feeling your pulse thump furiously. You looked into his eyes with uneven breath as the realization hit. He was finally letting you in.

Suddenly you were leaning in, craving to experience the full extent of his emotions. And so he met you halfway, molding his soft lips around yours in a deep kiss that made your heart stop altogether.

His large hands took hold of your sides and held you tightly against him as he leaned in to savor your taste. His tongue swiped curiously against your lip so you parted your mouth, allowing him full access to it. You leaned back the more he leaned in, and eventually you were both laying down on the couch with him positioned on top of you, making out intensely. When he broke away panting, his lips were swollen and his eyes full of lusty haze. You didn’t get a chance to take his demeanor in fully, because his lips were back on you again except kissing at the skin of your neck instead, leaving marks along their journey to your collar bone. Each bruise was a paragraph of text written on your paper skin, each lick a compliment he longed to give you since the first time you took your clothes off for him.

It seemed as though for all that he lacked verbally, he more than compensated with touch and emotion.

His hands sneaked underneath your shirt and pulled it off of you before he gazed at your chest. You blushed, because although he’d seen your breasts countless times before, he’d never looked at them the way he was now. You felt like a clay statue he was breathing life into as his lips latched onto your buds, causing your back to lift off of the cushions. He was as good with his mouth as he was with his brush strokes.

You made quick work of his shirt, feeling all too eager to feel his burning skin on yours. His touch was setting you ablaze, and you found the dull ache in between your legs increasingly harder to ignore. You carded your fingers through his hair as he took his pants off impatiently. You’d have taken the opportunity to take your own underwear off, but something told you you’d enjoy it a lot more if he did it for you.

Taehyung leaned back on his heels, his eyes shooting downwards as you opened your legs tentatively. He furrowed his brow in concentration as he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your panties and slowly peeled them off of you as if he was opening a present. He licked his lips as he spread your legs wide before him, taking in your glistening sex from his vantage point. Suddenly he bit his lip and stood up, disappearing behind the couch momentarily. He returned with a condom and tore into the packet as you both looked at each other eagerly.

Finally, he sat in between your legs again, brushing his thumb against your reddened clit as he licked his lips. You didn’t want to wait for him anymore, so you sat up and took hold of his lips with yours again, guiding him down onto you and wrapping your legs around his waist. When he plunged inside of you, your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

He rocked his hips slowly at first and continued peppering your body with kisses and bites. Your nails dug into his back while he balanced himself on his elbows, his hands pushing away the hair from your face. When he kissed your lips again, your tongues swirled wildly, causing him to lose control and pick up the pace. You hissed and moaned, your hips coming up to meet him stroke for stroke.

And as his movements got increasingly rougher and more urgent, you lost yourself in them over and over again because now it was his turn to express himself.

Your sweaty bodies writhed against each other all afternoon, each moan of yours an appreciation of his affection towards you and each grown of his conveying a wordless confession.

Making love to Taehyung was like him having a conversation with your body. He knew all the right places to touch and when. He’d get so wrapped up and passionate during your afternoons spent together that he’d hardly seem like the same quiet man sitting across from you staring at a canvas for hours. He was rough yet gentle, persistent yet patient, truly in keeping with the enigma that he had always been to you.

And now, as you sat on the very same couch you both had made love on the first time and many times afterward, you found yourself eyeing him mischievously. It had been 20 minutes after he decided his painting wasn’t quite finished yet, and you were getting antsy.

He’d caught your look, and though a reaction didn’t register on his face, the growing bulge sitting pretty in between his legs was enough for you.

Your nipples were quickly hardening in the frigid air entering through the open window, though the reason for that wasn’t entirely attributed to the col temperature. Normally you were patient enough to wait until he was done, but today was stressful and you wanted so badly for him to help you relieve some of that stress.

So you didn’t bother holding back your joy when he finally stood up from his spot in the corner and sauntered over to you, giving you a disapproving look. You looked back at him apologetically, though you weren’t sure it translated well as you bit your lip lustfully at his approaching figure. He sighed, flicking one of your hardened nipples roughly. You let out a shaky breath to which he snickered as he pulled his shirt off over his head. This time it was his turn to bite his lips as you purposely spread your legs, giving him a full view of what he was capable of doing to you without so much as touching you.

He growled as he crawled onto the couch, groping your curves and dips as he contemplated how to punish you for being a fidgety model. You awaited eagerly with a shallow breath then squealed as he abruptly scooped you into his arms and off the couch. He brought you over to the windowsill and sat you down before kneeling in front of you and spreading your legs again. Your breath hitched in your throat at the first stroke of his tongue on your clit. Your hands gripped the edge of the windowsill as you scooted closer to the edge to give him better access to you. You made a mental note to interrupt his painting sessions more often.

“A-ah….Taehyung…” You moaned softly as he sucked lightly on your clit. His eyes watched you carefully as his tongue navigated your slick folds expertly. When you threw your head back as his tongue got closer to your entrance, he pushed the wet muscle inside and fucked you with his face, causing you to buck your hips onto him. Your head snapped back down, and your fingers latched onto his hair, guiding him in and out of you as you fucked his face. You were so close to cumming, but you needed a bit more. That’s when Taehyung replaced his tongue with two fingers, plunging them inside you and curling them upwards as he milked the orgasm from you. You hunched over, holding onto his head tightly as you came all over his mouth and fingers.

“Fuck…that was…” You panted and let go of him, allowing him to stand back up as he wiped the side of his mouth with his thumb. He smiled at you brightly, all semblance of disapproval gone from his angelic features. You brough him towards you and kissed him passionately, only then feeling the cold wind licking at your backside. You shivered, so he took your hand and led you off the windowsill.

He embraced you as you wrapped your arms around his midsection, holding you in silence for a few moments. Eventually, he tipped your chin up to stare into your eyes and gauge the rest of your sentence from what your eyes could give away. You looked back at him and smiled, feeling brave enough to ask him something that didn’t have a simple yes or no answer for once.

“What are you thinking?”

Taehyung looked down for a moment then took your hand in his. He brought you over to his easel and placed you in front of today’s painting, looking at your reaction carefully. You had expected to see yourself staring at the center of the page looking horny as ever.

But as you gazed at the painting, you saw a girl who was very much in love.

Your chest tightened and your eyes glistened. Turning towards Taehyung, you looked up at his wary eyes. He held his breath as his thumb stroked your knuckles, conveying more than you had ever expected him to be able to. And for once, you were glad there were no words.

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fallingsunflower · 3 years

Text

BESTIES I'm so sorry - I hit my post limit waaaay earlier than expected! Some of y'all joined me on my backup account, (which I also hit the limit on lmao), but I'm back now.

I had over 400 asks to go through and I'll give you a warning that not all of them will appear (either because they were old or because they were topics we already answered). But here is a giant list of asks I compiled for you from when I wasn't allowed to post lol they don't really require my response but I found them entertaining to read. Hope you don't mind I've just put them all together in one post. It's also to save me from using up my 250 posts lol

"this is all so embarrassing like my god imagine when the promotion of the movie starts how horrible it will be for other people who made the movie too"

"SELL UR TICKETS TODAY WATCH THE MOVIE ILLEGALLY, next article we’ll be talking about these two assholes filing for bankruptcy. cheap harlots. don’t mess with your meal ticket."

"hate to say it but i defs think they‘ve got a sliver of the gp’s attention for five minutes"

"I am scanning through all these photos looking for just ONE where he looks like he's smiling and enjoying this. It's so crazy."

"I guess those are all the pics we’re getting right now. But I wouldn’t be surprised if they finish the Italy trip off with one more major Backgrid photo shoot."

"Olivia’s trending on Twitter but not Harry. Like it’s obvious who’s getting the PR gains here!"

"If they dont give us a 6 month or more break after this im gonna need them to pay for my therapy bills from now on bc of this damage no joke let me crawl back into my shit hole now 😑"

"The palce they at is referred to as “tuscanys best-kept secret”. Everyone point and laugh."

"she looks like she’s enjoying all of this. he looks like he wants to push her into the water."

"a few people said he’s keeping his shorts pulled up or covered in all the shots because of the Nike branding which they ask to not get photographed. What a setup."

"Man I knew the second those Tomdaya pics came out of them kissing and how they were trending so fast that HO were going to do something to 'top' them. Its pathetic /// FRRR. she probably hoped for the positive reactions that people gave tom & zendaya but unfortunately, miss girl got the opposite. when will they realize that nobody, but his fans, find them cute lmao can they just stop, it’s so embarrassing 😭😭😭"

"He really out here doing this with someone who almost old enough to be his mother, shiiiiiiiit. Sickening. Sick of these 2 for real now, i was fine with the good old blurry back content and whatnot but this? Crossing a line here nobody wanna see that shit and knowing how people feel goooooood damn."

"I aboslutely despise kendall for obvious reason but this one is actually worse than the hendall one bc you couldnt really see as much as now dis gos tang."

"She’s also wearing the cross necklace again. I feel like if that was so meaningful to her she wouldn’t risk loosing it in the ocean 🙄"

"guys have eyes on tmz. I Do not have tw now. they were so aggressive towards them"

"I'm sorry for Harry because you lost your damn mind bro"

"Now why the hendall pics are better ?? NO SHADE BUTT"

"I’m genuine confused like do they actually want dwd to flop or what? I just threw up in my mouth I sure as hell ain’t gonna watch their sorry ass movie. Is it supposed to flop? I’m so confused!"

"The match was not interesting enough so they cooked up something different especially since people were pointing out how they staged the PDA. And the page 6 article is out already!!!"

"Who the fuck thought this was a good idea"

"Is it just me or does harry's face looks really blank for someone out on a Romantic date with his alleged girlfriend.?"

"if thats it, harry hasn’t no game🤣🤣🤣🤣"

"so this is why the tabloids weren’t talking about the match pics! they didn’t have any value on their own. now with the yacht pics? my oh my they’re gonna get the clicks of their lives. her team was prob like “wait a sec we got something for y’all”"

"If they were models hired to act like a couple they wouldn't get the job......"

"Not them starring right at the camera in some of them help make it less obvious will you"

"HENDALL🤣🤣🤣is that uuuu"

"Harry’s ass crack thought it should make an appearance too."

"What a great day for team PR, happy Monday you guys! Let's pop the champagne 🍾🍾🍾🍾 P. S. They both need acting lessons, tbh"

"It’s quite interesting how everything that’s happened before I’ve seen predicted weeks/and in advance on blogs or fan accounts. Like his life has always been so predictable but damn"

"He was hiding the Nike check. That’s why his swim trucks are rolled up to an absurd degree even for him. He knew he was gonna get photographed."

"What I’m noticing is wether people like them together or not, everyone’s saying they’re aren’t a hot couple…there was more chemistry in the Kendall pics by far"

"i also find it weird that he’s not smiling in any of the pictures and it would be one thing if there were five pics from ten minutes of time but there are like 70 from an obvious extended period of time"

"It's interesting everyone involved is being Team Try Hard. Yet the universe says no. The last set of pics, Tom and Zendaya overshadowed. People even paid more attention to Angelina and the Weekend (even if business possibly). Fast forward to today and all this fakery only for Gwen/Blake to tie the knot. His team needs to get a clue. She needs to go. Harry needs to clean this up fast."

"Ok i looked at one hugging pic and one kidding pic and they could not look more stagged. It looks unatural ,strange and weird from all angles. You can clearly see from their body posture they are posing for a photographer from backgrid."

"Like I said in my ask a couple days ago the day we get kissing pics is the day that I believe this is all a stunt and I was right. They took a page out of hendall 2016 and it’s looks so forced and awkward. Hendall did it better cause at prater they had chemistry. They must be scared this movie is going to tank because they are pushing this way too hard"

"Real, PR, or whatever relationship it is, they’re fucking boring. You are on a yacht in Italy, can’t you have a little bit of fun? I can’t believe how boring they are, I just can’t. Even if it is just PR, can’t you make a fucking dumb joke so you can laugh or something? Do they have anything in common like to talk about or discuss or make fun of? I’d literally killed myself if I looked like that in a relationship. They are not communicating in any photos we’ve got. They are just walking, or sitting. Even when they hold hands or kiss or hug, they never communicate."

"okay but did ya’ll see the pic of her diving in?? i can’t stop laughing 😭😭😭😭"

"they look horrifically awkward i cannot believe what harry is doing"

"“HEY PAPS COME GET A PIC OF US KISSING TO MAKE OUR RELATIONSHIP MORE BELIEVABLE!!!!!”"

"his ass is hanging out and her bra is almost off what in the hell"

"Hqs on a yacht like that? Mhmhmhm hmmmmm / I bloody well hope that’s not the extend of their acting. That’s dire! 🤦‍♀️"

"this is literally the most predictable “couple” to exist. first, people talked about them showing up the game, and they did. second, people were just talking about kissing pics... AND THEY JUST CAME OUT LMAOOOOOO"

"annnnnnnnnnnnnd there it is. YOU KNOW THEY KNEW THERE WAS A CAMERA."

"ok but where’s the pda or did that get made up? cause these have to be the most awkward pics i’ve ever seen which makes me feel better 😂 also i can feel the meme’s coming with the one of her diving off the boat"

"I call it how I see it they are both assholes and full of shit. Like do your fake kiss somewhere else I do not want to see it!"

"Can they at least act like they’re having a good time?"

"hahahaha I can't stop laughing with that photo of O it's literally her knowing she's being photographed and diving into a professional swimmer style😭"

"the pics are so organic that Olivia is looking straight at the pap before kissing Harry."

"he looked a lot happier with kendall in their yacht pics compared to today’s. i know that was PR too, but he was very smiley and seemed talkative. with this girl it’s like the complete opposite lmao."

#this is also good visual proof for how many people are on team PR lol

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Joey Donner

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- It was a little known fact that nearly every girl in your school wanted to date or at least screw Joey Donner. You were no exception but at least you could tell he was a total ass and didn’t actually try to get with him.

- You acted uninterested, convinced yourself at times that you were uninterested yet deep down you knew you secretly were attracted to him even if it was just the surface you were attracted to.

- But you’re disinterest is what drew Joeys attention to you in the first place. As everyone else swooned you completely ignored him and talked to “losers” instead, hiding away from attention and for the most part wearing clothes which left nearly everything to the imagination. Though to be fair, you woke up at five in the morning and stayed in school till two; frankly you just weren’t in the mood for heels.

- He wasn’t entirely compelled just by that. No, his real interest towards you started when a friend of yours decided to give you a makeover and plead with you to try it out for a week just to see what would happen. Since you were equally curious you gave it a try, even though you knew it was going to be a hassle.

- Thats why early one morning you arrived at school dressed in a v-neck top, a tight skirt, heels, hair perfectly done and more makeup than usual. To say he was enticed would be an understatement.

- “Had you always been so hot?” Was a common question among your peers but most didn’t even realize it was you until halfway through the day. Even Cameron and Michael; your friends, were having trouble not staring at your cleavage. Boys were swarming you to say the least.

- It was kind of fucked up to have the same people who made fun of you throughout middle school and high school now open doors and pull out chairs for you.

- You and Joey were lab partners so to an extent you were forced to interact for at least a good ten minutes a day. A lot of girls were jealous of you for this exact reason but you didn’t pay them any mind.

- It was when you were sat at your desk pulling on gloves to cut open frogs that Joey actually got his first look at you, well, the new you. He genuinely thought you were transferred and a new girl was sitting in your place. Sure he thought you were good looking before but every girl looks a bit better with makeup and some tight clothes, at least to guys like him.

- He slowly sat down next to you, eyes trained on your face and body as he went. You paid him no mind as you wrote down your notes and got to work. He sat there staring at you for a few moments before shaking his head and getting a hold of himself. He couldn’t actually get with a “loser” like you; it would ruin his reputation.

- He was bewildered when he found himself actually starting to like you. You, the girl who was a nobody, the girl that half the school didn’t know existed and the girl that, regardless of all that, still didn’t like him. You were weirdly endearing for it; hot even. He actually had to work to gain your attention.

- Joey doesn’t really know how to go after girls that he doesn’t have leverage on. Like if a girl likes him it’s easy to score with her but what does he do if they seem to hate his guts?

- He tried flirting, complimenting you and being sweet before he asked you out for the first time. You rejected him, quite brutally might he add and so he had to take a different plan of action. His second plan was to annoy the hell out of you, getting you riled up so that you’d give him the attention he wanted from you, even if it was given to him with a glare.

- After an especially rough week with him borderline bullying you he made the mistake of asking you out again. That’s how you and him got into an insult match in an empty hallway of the school after classes ended.

- A moment of stillness came over the two of you after a particularly heated exchange of words. When all of a sudden his hands were cupping your cheeks and your lips were smashing together.

- It was rough, passionate, heated. You didn’t exactly know why it was happening but to hell if you weren’t enjoying it. So long story short you ended up making out with the cocky most popular guy in the school who only moments before you were calling a pompous ass.

- When you came to your senses you realized he had you pinned against the wall and was thoroughly enjoying himself. The two of you pulled apart to catch your breath and were silent for a while, still close in proximity. Both of you leaned in and shared a much tamer kiss before he spoke.

“I’m an asshole, I get it, but that was great and you can’t deny it, alright? There’s something between us and you know it so why don’t we see how this plays out. Let me take you out and make everyone in this town jealous that I have you.”

- Well maybe it was worth a shot, right? You pulled him into another kiss which he smiled into like a giddy fool even if he wouldn’t ever admit it.

- So that’s how you became the hottest couple in school and started living out the dreams of all your classmates.

- He has a major soft spot for you.

- He’s really cuddly when you’re alone. He’s like a totally different person.

- Lots of gifts and dates people your age shouldn’t be able to afford.

- Being backstage at his modeling and commercial jobs.

- He’s jealous as hell, he hates boys looking at you but at the same time loves it because he’s a smug asshole. It makes him proud that people want what only he has.

- He’s lowkey possessive.

- You have to wear his jacket in classes you don’t have with him.

- Hickeys and constant pda.

- When he’s bored he tends to write his name on your skin. At some point he’ll get you a necklace with his name on it and a ring for himself that has yours engraved on it. He probably wouldn’t even tell you about his ring, you’d just notice it for yourself one day and get a little misty eyed.

- He’ll randomly grab a part of your body and start drawing on it. He reserves dicks for other people though.

- Once you’re in his car he’s eating your face. His lips are on yours and they aren’t letting up until they get their fill.

- He likes to grab your face and pull you into kisses.

- His arm is constantly wrapped around your shoulders or waist.

- You’re on his lap like 90% of the time.

- Even though he’s got a big ego, he actually gets pretty flustered when you compliment him on things other than his looks. He doesn’t know how to react at first but he tries his best to play it off and act cool.

- Someway, somehow, you’re incorporated into his workouts whether it be you sitting on his back or underneath him during pushups or you being used as a bench press. It makes things more entertaining for him and lets him show off.

- I feel like his household was the kind where money substituted actual relationships so this boy is probably hella attention starved. The first time you showed him innocent affection he was kinda confused.

“What are you doing?”

“Loving you.”

“...alright.”

- He’s an asshole but it’s somehow endearing?

- Anyone who comes close to bothering you is getting his ass kicked either by him or someone he’s paid to do so.

- He’s a pretty demanding person, he wants your attention, affection, anything you can give him. You’re basically inseparable.

- Hugs from behind with his head resting on your shoulder.

- He’s a sexual guy and proud of it so undoubtedly sex will be a part of your relationship.

- It gets him all hot and bothered when you wear his clothes.

- Him “accidentally” touching your boobs and butt. Just blatant groping yet he’ll probably apologize like it was a mistake.

- Wearing one of his rings, most likely on a chain around your neck.

- Flowers and cute but ‘macho’ notes.

- Fighting usually ends up being his fault because he’s a cocky bastard and won’t ever admit he’s wrong. It also doesn’t help that he thinks he can do whatever he wants.

- You tend to give him the cold shoulder. It annoys the everloving fuck out of him because he’s only just now gotten used to and started to rely on your affection. When you’re not giving it to him there’s a lot of tension and stress in his life. People in school suffer since he takes out all his annoyance on them.

- After a little while he’ll man up and apologize, holding out his arms for a hug once he’s finished. He both smugly smile and melts like butter when you wrap your arms around him.

- If you massage his scalp he’ll turn to putty in your hands.

- Skincare with him. Masks, creams, etc; he probably pampers himself more than you do.

- Likes laying his head in your lap and having you read to him.

- Your teachers love you since you tame him in the classes you share with each other.

- Getting him to stop picking on people.

- Helping him with schoolwork. He’s not dumb he just lacks the motivation and focus to actually go through with and finish his assignments.

- He tries his best to calm down with his drinking and partying because he knows you hate when he’s drunk.

- He likes randomly picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

- Pestering you is a game he’s good at and one he enjoys.

- His parents probably like you fine enough but your parents probably don’t like him. Not many parents would unless perhaps you just show your mother a picture of him.

- He’s definitely attempted to bribe your teachers into putting you guys in the same classes, teams, and lab groups.

- When he’s alone and actually tries to do well he can be pretty good at drawing.

- If you mention that you like a certain kind of shirt on him he’ll magically own like a dozen more over night.

- He really likes when you gush over and compliment him. It gives him the confidence that he really didn’t need but greatly appreciates. Or maybe it’s just a boost to his already inflated ego.

- Whenever you’re cold all you have to do is snuggle into him, he’s like a human heater and is all smiles when you randomly bury yourself into his chest.

- No one is allowed to interrupt the two of you at lunch without a proper reason unless they want to be made a fool of in front of everybody.

- He has a hard time saying he loves you because he wants to keep up his tough guy reputation but his heart swells everytime you say it. Deep down you know he does.

- You’re the power couple of the school.

#90s movie #90s movie headcanons #90s movie imagine #90s movie headcanon #joey donner #joey donner headcanons #joey donner headcanon #joey donner imagine #10 things i hate about you #10 things i hate about you headcanons #10 things i hate about you headcanon #10 things i hate about you imagine #10 things i hate about you imagines

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snowdice · 4 years

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Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 6]

Here is my starting post for today’s study break stories session. See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. I’ll be constantly looking for ideas of times and places for Janus to have missions, so feel free to send in any you can think of at any point!

If you are a new follower or just don’t want all of these posts clogging your dash, please feel free to block the tag “study break stories” as all posts and voting about it will go there. You can still see the finished product of the story even if you are blocking that tag as I will not tag the edited chapters with “study break stories” but with the (TBD) name of the fic.

Chapter 1, chapter 2, and chapter 3 are under the cut.

I don’t have too much to do today, so this’ll be shorter.

Set Up

Chapter 1

The words in front of him seemed to squirm back and forth across the screen as he watched, despite the fact that he’d bought this screen to prevent that exact thing from happening. The ‘d’s and ‘p’s and ‘b’s seemed to blur together into a sludge of incomprehensible nonsense, just like the voices around him seemed to. He wasn’t quite sure how long he’d sat there staring at this report. Time itself seemed almost like the words and the people, it swirled past him in a blur of sounds and colors, but he never could quite grab ahold of it.

Something smacked him in the forehead, and he startled, looking up. “Remus,” Janus sighed. He picked up the projectile that had just been lobbed at him. “Did you steal paper from the 20th century supply again?” he asked, staring at the folded-up piece of white paper in the shape of a crane. It was one of Remus’s favorite designs. “That’s not what it’s for.”

“There’s a message inside!” Remus replied, happily.

Janus glared at him and carefully unfolded the paper. He squinted at it, and yeah, that was way worse than the screen. Maybe it was worth his money. Or maybe Remus’s handwriting was just horrendous.

He squinted at it for a few moments and then looked back up. He blinked at his surroundings. The note had said ‘Go home. Work ended three hours ago.’ and that certainly seemed accurate considering he and Remus were the only people left in the office.

“I still have to finish this report about the New Easter Island mission,” he said to Remus.

“I’ll do it,” Remus said. “You’ve been working without a break for hours, and I probably owe the agency some time since I took a coffee break to 22nd century France this afternoon.”

“You what?” Janus asked.

”They have the best coffee,” Remus said, and then grinned wolfishly, “and the best guys.”

“Stop doing that stuff,” Janus hissed. “Your lucky I haven’t reported you already.”

“You wouldn’t,” Remus said, very sure of himself. “You like me too much. Plus, without me, you’ll forget to go home and sleep every night. So, it’d be a loose-loose. Now up! It’s time for you to go home.”

Janus sighed and stood. “Fine,” he said. “I’m going, but that report better be done like you said or I will report you for your coffee excursions.”

“Sure, you will,” Remus said. “Now shoo.”

Janus spared him one more glare before standing from his desk and waving his hand through the air. The machine at his wrist buzzed softly and the display screen lit up around him. He jabbed a finger at the last of the three pre-set locations and, with a feeling like he’d just stepped into a pool of softened butter, he was home.

He groaned and fell back onto his couch immediately. “Time?” he asked.

“1:57am,” a soft voice said from his ceiling. He groaned. Considering the agency liked to keep their schedules aligned even though his house sat almost 2 millennia before the agency even existed, he’d have to be up in 4 hours to head back to work. They said it was to ‘stop them from experiencing time jet lag’ and ‘maintain their circadian rhythm,’ but with Janus it usually just ended up with him ‘not getting enough sleep’ and ‘suffering greatly.’

Sure, he had been fine with it, encouraged the policy even, when the agency was created, but that had been before he’d had to live it.

His stomach suddenly grumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since before the mission he’d been on earlier that day. He was exhausted, but he also knew trying to go to bed this hungry would result in him not being able to sleep at all. He dragged himself to his feet and into one of the barstools at the kitchen island. He didn’t want to wait for the auto cook feature to cook him something and he especially didn’t want to cook something himself, so he pressed a few buttons on the side of the counter and a protein infused, still cold pop tart popped out of the table.

He thought it might be a Hot Fudge Sunday one, but he honestly couldn’t tell. The protein infusion made all of them taste rather horrible. For all he knew, it was one of the Burnt Rubber pop tarts Remus had once snuck into his pantry. To be fair, he hadn’t even noticed until he’d went to go stock his pantry and realized that there was half a box of those things. It was just another example of Remus using time travel for things he shouldn’t. They were a year 2513 delicacy.

The 2510s were an odd set of years.

He chewed on the possibly chocolate, possibly rubber flavored pastry and glanced out the window. Though it was dark, one could still see the water of the man-made lake his home sat on thanks to the floating lights that hovered above it. Each agent working for the TPI received a home and alternate identity in a time and location of their choice. (Within reason, that is. Remus’s request to live among the dinosaurs was quickly denied and new rules were put into place immediately after.) Janus had chosen the late 24th century with a moderately sized home on Lake BlueBox. He didn’t have many close neighbors, but the ones he did know thought he was an accountant who went by the name of Declan Banks.

No, he had not chosen the last name. Yes, everyone got those types of names. The Agent Management Office had a sense of humor or were just not creative. Janus only knew one employee in the AMO and he’d been avoiding him for the past three years as much as possible. Cowardly, maybe, but he knew if he gave the man too much information about his general lifestyle, he’d be dragged into the AMO to talk about his mental state and feelings, and honestly, that would make everything worse.

As soon as he finished the poptart, a glass of water popped up from the table making him jump despite the fact that he had been the one to set it to do that automatically years ago. He downed half of the water and picked up the glass to take it to his bedroom. He should probably clean himself off before bed, but he couldn’t be bothered today, and just stripped off his uniform and collapsed into bed in his underwear. The morning was going to come far too soon, he knew. Yet, his mind would not quiet. His brain kept filling out the report he trusted (well, hoped he could trust) Remus had already finished by now.

He eventually groaned and rolled over in bed. “Play something,” he requested. The screen by the side of his bed lit up.

“Randomizing the ‘Something’ video playlist,” the soft voice said from the ceiling.

A dance recital which he knew had been recorded in 2033 started playing. The images moved on the screen in front of him, but the sound drifted from all around him. He let his eyes linger over the way the dancers’ bodies moved as the sounds washed over him. The image of elegantly twisting limbs remained in his head long after his eyelids drifted shut and he finally fell asleep.

Chapter 2

The morning was just as torturous as Janus had expected it would be. He chewed through another poptart, this time bothering to actually check and see that it was a cinnamon-sugar one and drank three cups of caffeinated orange juice. Then, he waved his hand through the air and selected the 1st saved location on his device. He popped up directly behind his desk where he’d been standing the night morning before.

Someone, probably Remus, had shut his integrator down. He swiped a finger across the power button, and it flickered back on, scrolling through its morning start up routine.

The machine scanned through all of the data in the three main system it was connected to and sorted all information into things that concerned him, could concern him, and did not before then sorting the first two categories into order of importance. As it did, he set up his screen reader so he would hopefully not start the day with more of a migraine than he already had. It took about 3 seconds for everything to turn on and settle.

Sitting down in his desk, he dismissed the notification that Remus had finished and submitted the report from their mission the day before.

A mission had been scheduled for him today, and the details were in his inbox. A piece time travel technology had been accidently dropped by an archology student in the 1890s during a trip. It was an earlier model of emergency time travel given to time travels that would dump them back into the Registration Office in the year they originated. It wasn’t extremely dangerous, but could pose some problems, especially if someone who didn’t know what it was activated it.

Surveillance agents had tracked it down and found that it had been picked up by a local and sold. Though no one from that time had known what it was, they had identified that it was made out of a precious metal and it had been crafted into an expensive necklace. Janus and Remus were supposed to retrieve it today. It had been pinpointed that the most opportune time for the extraction was 1923 during a masquerade ball held by those who had bought the necklace.

It was a fairly low stakes mission. He wasn’t set to leave for another couple of hours, so he clicked through the rest of the important notifications and then set off to meet his missions coordinator, Rhi, in her office.

Rhi and Janus got along fairly well. She was a well put together woman who took her job incredibly seriously. It was fair as her job was to organize all information and materials from every other department and make sure the agents she was assigned to got and understood all of it. A mistake from her could lead to an agent’s death or something far worse.

This, of course, made her relationship with Remus… interesting to say the least. Janus could never place whether they were nemesis, frenemies, or mortal enemies, and he doubted he would ever know.

“Okay, but it’s the 1920s America,” Remus was already in her office arguing when Janus arrived. “There were so many gangsters! I could be a gangster. I would make a fantastic gangster! Just give me a gun, a snazzy suit with a white hat, and a buttload of alcohol. I will be running Chicago with Al Capone in five minutes.”

“Al Capone didn’t become a crime boss until 1925 and you are going to 1923,” Rhi said, sounding bored, “you aren’t going to Chicago, and as I have already stated, your cover is already decided.”

“But-”

“It is nonnegotiable, Agent Clockson,” she said firmly. Remus pouted, but seemingly accepted his fate.

“May I come in?” Janus asked.

“Please do,” Rhi said. “You have been to the 1920s before, correct?” she asked Janus.

“Yes ma’am.”

She tapped the screen on her desk in response. “In the last two years?”

“About two months ago,” he responded. She tapped something else.

“Any blacks, reds, or yellows?” she asked.

“All green.”

“Great. Do you need a refresher course on basic cultural or linguistic procedures?”

“No.”

She pushed one more thing and then swiped the check-in document over to him. He glanced at the report stating he’d had no incidents of any level the last time he visited the 1920s and had opted out of the optional refresher course, and then pressed his finger against the screen to sign it with his fingerprint.

The document returned to her side of the desk automatically. “Okay,” she said swiping another document from her left over to be in front of her. She twisted her wrist to copy it and slide copies to Janus and Remus. “Here are exact details on the time, place, and event you are going to, as well as details about your cover.” Janus scrolled through his quickly. It wasn’t as detailed as some he’d had considering this was a brief in-and-out missing, but he still took care to memorize everything on the page.

As he and Remus read through their things, Rhi got to her feet and turned to the storage compartments behind her desk.

She grabbed out two packages and when they’d both signed that they’d read and understood the paperwork, she slid them across the desk to them. “These have everything you need,” she said. “Clothes, money, and an invitation to the party you’re off to attend. You are to get changed now, have a last check in with costuming to make sure everything is in order, and then report to decontamination in 23 minutes. Your set to leave in 38 minutes. Any questions?”

“How much-?” Remus started.

“None, agent,” Rhi said.

“But-”

“No alcohol,” Rhi said. “It is the prohibition era in the United States anyway.”

“Like there’s not going to be alcohol at the rich people party,” Remus said sullenly.

She pressed her lips together. “It is an in-and-out mission,” she said to both of them, and then turned to glare at Remus. “Do not get arrested.”

“I don’t know,” Remus said joyfully. “I think I still have room for a 1920s mug shot on my wall.”

“Behave,” she said, “or I’ll report you for the cat you smuggled in from the 1800s.”

“You’d never,” Remus said. “You enjoy the cute pictures of Diesel Fuel I send you every day too much, and you know it!”

“Just… don’t get arrested.” She turned to Janus. “Don’t let him get arrested.”

“I’ll do my best,” Janus promised, standing. “Now come on, Remus, we need to get changed.”

“You just want to see me naked,” Remus replied with a wink, but he did stand.

“If I see you naked one more time in my life Remus, my eyeballs will fall out of their sockets,” Janus said, waving to Rhi as he pulled Remus out of the door.

“Kinky.”

Janus’s eyeballs almost did fall out right then and there with how hard he rolled them.

They got changed quickly, Remus complaining and saying if he couldn’t dress like a gangster, he should at least be allowed to wear a flapper dress. Janus had long ago learned to ignore his ramblings. He did seem enthused about the included mask for the masquerade. It was a silver fox shaped mask with green accents that reminded Janus of the Egyptian God Anubis.

Janus’s own mask on the other hand, was only designed to take up the left half of his face. It was mostly golden with a black swirled design. Attached to the side there was a plume of golden tipped white feathers. He had to give it to the costuming department, they did have good taste.

Once they were both dressed, they were poked and prodded by one of the costumers to make sure everything was accurate, fit right, and had been put on correctly.

After that, they went to the decontamination area to have themselves and everything they were taking with them sterilized so they didn’t accidently take any pathogens to the 1920s. They also received an oral vaccination to be sure they didn’t pick up anything from the 1920s and bring it back.

Then they were ready to go. The correct time-space coordinates had already been sent to their timepieces. With a push of a button, they were off.

Inciting Incident

Chapter 3

Janus and Remus both appeared at the same moment a couple of feet apart in what looked like the inside of a garden shed. There was already a man waiting for them a few feet away. “Sup babes,” Remy said, just like he always did. The T-Agent looked their costumes up and down and whistled. “Now that,” he said, “almost makes me want to be one of you time jockeys.”

“They wouldn’t let me have a gun or a canister of moonshine,” Remus pouted.

Remy snorted. “Sorry, babes, but that makes my job a lot easier. If I’ve gotta fish you outta the 1920s criminal justice system, I’d rather it not be because you shot someone on accident ‘cause you don’t know how to use the safety.”

Remus groaned dramatically. “Everyone is lame.”

Remy just shook his head. “Meet back here when you’ve got the necklace,” he said. “Don’t make a move until after 11:05pm and before 11:17. That’s your window.”

“We know,” Janus said. “See you then.”

“Have fun at the party boys,” Remy said and then lowered his shades to look at Remus, “but not too much fun.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Remus, already towing Janus out of the garden shed. The way had been specifically cleared for them, so they met no other people before they’d rounded the house the party was taking place and had gotten onto the driveway in front of the house.

Without missing a beat, they strolled up to the front of the house, just as a car pulled into the end of the driveway. Janus rang the doorbell, and a few moments later, a man who was clearly the butler answered the door. They handed over their invitation, and the man immediately let them in.

The party had already started when they slipped into the medium sized ballroom that had been decked out in streamers and other decorations. Janus’s nose immediately wanted to scrunch as the smell of sweat from all the dancing already going on as well as the too strong perfume meant to cover that stench wafted over him. It was by far not the worst smelling time period, but he was pretty sure some people still weren’t aware deodorant had been recently invented.

He checked his time piece which had been disguised as a fancy wristwatch for this trip. “Okay,” he said. “We have about two hours before we need to make our move. We should…”

Remus’s attention was already being dragged away by a young man who seemed to be providing guests with food. “I’m going to go ‘mingle’,” he said, winking.

“No!” Janus hissed. “Re- Richard! No!”

Yet, he was already disappearing into the horde of stinky bodies, likely to go scandalize a bunch of rich folks, and leaving Janus alone. Janus mumbled a curse under his breath that he was sure no one around him would understand even if they could make it out.

Unsure what to do with himself, he wandered over towards where the live musicians were playing jazz music, being sure to keep out of the way of the dancers. He was edging around the makeshift dancefloor, when one of said dancers must have misstepped and knocked into another one. The second man stumbled right towards Janus, arms pinwheeling. Janus reached out on instinct to catch the man as he fell.

There was a moment where the two of them just stared at each other, surprise evident on the other man’s face. He was wearing a mask that just covered the area around his eyes and the top of his nose, revealing a smattering of freckles across his cheeks that Janus imagined extended to his nose.

The mask was a light blue velvet with a flower stuck on the side near his right ear, and a trail of curled golden ribbon bobbed down around his chin. The party continued on around them, a blur of movement and sound.

“Are you alright?” Janus asked.

The man blinked up at him and then tilted his head slightly to the side as though confused, before a smile slowly grew on his face. “Oh, I’m fine Dove.”

“Dove?” Janus asked.

He giggled. “You have dove feathers on your mask,” he explained, reaching up a hand to touch one. His finger brushed the tip of Janus’s ear, “and I don’t know what else I am supposed to call you.”

“My name is Lee,” he automatically lied.

“Is it?” he asked, sounding amused. “Doesn’t seem to fit you well. I like Dove better.”

“Oh?” asked Janus. “And what’s your name so I can not call you that?”

The man chuckled. “Call me Pat.”

“Hello Pat,” Janus said.

“I thought you didn’t want to call me by my name.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Hmmm,” Pat said, finger tracing idly across Janus’s forearm which was when Janus realized with a start that he was still holding the man in his arms. He quickly went to release him, which Pat allowed with clear amusement.

Yet, instead of completely stepping away, Pat grabbed Janus’s arm. “What are you doing all the way over here by the way?” he asked. “Don’t you want to dance.”

“Oh,” Janus hesitated. “I don’t really dance.” Or at least not in the way the people around him were. He’d had basic training for this style, but it had been a while and he was a bit rusty.

“Everyone dances Dove,” Pat claimed. “At least if they know the steps and have the right partner.”

“But I don’t know the steps,” Janus said with an eyebrow raise.

He hummed. “Well, I know the dance pretty well by this point,” Pat said. “Why don’t I teach you how it goes.”

He was agreeing with the soft beseeching tone before he even realized it. Pat pulled him into the middle of the throng of people. He seemed to think, bopping his head to the music playing for a moment, before looking back at Janus. “Heard of James Johnson?”

Janus inclined his head.

“Well, have you heard his new song? Because there’s a dance that goes with it.”

He took a few steps away from Janus and started to dance. Despite his claim to know the steps, he wasn’t particularly good, but he made up for any loss of rhythm with pure enthusiasm.

Janus found himself smiling at the man, and after a few moments, joined in with the dance. Despite his lack of practice, he ended up having a better natural rhythm than Pat. Pat didn’t seem to mind that he was being outperformed, however. On the contrary, he giggled at himself the couple of times he stumbled.

When he fell into Janus’s arms for the second time that night, Janus decided he’d probably had enough dancing for the moment and pulled him off to the side to get something to drink and cool down a bit.

He watched the man take a snack and some punch from one of servers and thank him happily before turning back to Janus. Pat was easily able to keep Janus’s attention as they chatted. He was bubbly and soft, and Janus found himself enchanted as they talked.

He was explaining the steps of a different dance, a couples one. “Knowing how to perform the tango will entrance any girl you want,” Pat said, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. “Assuming you’re that type of fella.”

“As opposed to what?” Janus asked.

Pat leaned in a bit closer. Not too much, but enough that he was definitely in Janus’s space. “A different type of fella,” he said simply, before smiling and leaning back.

Janus let out a shaky exhale and took a sip of punch. He glanced over at Pat. “Tell me about yourself, Pat,” he said.

Pat hummed in contemplation. “Well, I went to France recently.”

“You did?”

“Oui, c'était amusant, mais j'ai eu des ennuis”

“What kind of trouble?” Janus asked curiously.

“Oh, the kind with a pretty boy and crepes that were way too sweet. Anyway,” he continued. “Other than that, I mostly help out my friend. He’s an inventor.”

“And how do you help him.”

He shrugged, “Running errands mostly, and making sure he gets enough sleep, because otherwise he gets distracted and forgets. And you?”

“I’m a banker,” he said, remembering his cover, but felt compelled to add, “but I like to travel as well.”

“You do look the type?”

“And how is that?”

Pat shrugged. “I can always tell a wandering spirt from the masses, and you are easy to spot.” Pat looked at him then with a secret smile on his face, and Janus felt suddenly known, like the man in front of him had known him for years even though they’d only just met. Looking at him then, he wanted suddenly for that to be fact and not a flight of fancy.

He was brought firmly back to reality in the next moment. “Lee,” a pointed and familiar voice said. Janus’s head snapped up to see Remus, staring at him. He tapped his wrist. Janus glanced at his own wrist: 10:58pm. He just barely managed not to curse.

“I,” he said looking up at Pat. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“That’s okay,” Pat said easily. “It is getting rather late.”

“Yes,” Janus agreed. “Well… goodbye.”

Pat, titled his head, a half smile on his face. “I’ll be seeing you around.”

Janus nodded, and turned away from him towards Remus. He didn’t look back as they excited the ballroom. They snuck into a small side closet for coats that wasn’t being used as it was summer.

“So,” Remus said when the door closed behind them.

“Don’t,” warned Janus.

“I’m not one to judge,” Remus said.

“Shut up.” He glanced at his watch. It was 11:02. “We’ll go in 5.”

“I have to give it to you. He was very cute.”

“We’re not talking about it.”

Remus just laughed joyfully, and Janus did his best to halt the blood rushing to his cheeks.

At 11:07, well into their window, they slipped back out of the closet, and towards the stairs as the party raged on.

Despite how Remus usually never shut up, he was able to be quiet when it counted. They snuck to the master bedroom of the home’s owners in silence. The door was already wide open by the time they got there, and Janus didn’t think anything of it. At least, he didn’t until they entered the bedroom, and there was someone already there.

He turned from the dresser he’d been standing in front of to face them, sending Janus the same smile he had down in the ballroom. Janus and Remus both froze. “Sorry, sweetie,” Pat said. “Were you here for this too?” he held up the necklace they’d been sent for. He closed his fist around the charm made out of time travel tech.

“What?” Janus said.

Pat giggled and winked. “Unfortunately, I need it a bit more than you at the moment. So, I’m gonna have to go.” Janus stepped forward, not really sure what he was intending to do, but Pat just smiled. “See you some other time, my Turtle Dove.” With a snap of his fingers and loud crack, he disappeared. The mask he’d been wearing fluttered to the ground.

#study break stories #not writing

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pellicano-sanguino · 4 years

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The Long Carmilla Post 2 - Return of the Long Post about the Queen of Lesbian Vampires

When Tumblr tightened its policy about censoring nudity, they targeted a long post I'd made about Carmilla, since I showed photos of Ingrid Pitt and Yutte Stensgaard with their bare breasts in it. I have now censored the post, edited it and added a little. Carmilla is my favourite vampire of all time, and I have a long history with her different incarnations, so I wanted to bring the Long Carmilla Post back.

When I first posted the Long Carmilla Post, I had just seen the movie made by the Carmilla webseries folks. The sudden fame of the webseries surprised me. I can't help but think, that there must be a lot of new Carmilla fans, who instantly think of Natasha Negovanlis when they hear that name. If this series had been around when I was a teen, damn, would I have loved it! I would have been obsessed with it. But it was not, and I can't really become as obsessed with it now as the new fans do. Because when I hear the name Carmilla, several different faces appear in my imagination. I have already been obsessed with Carmilla from a rather young age, and while I love the webseries and this movie, for me it's just one of Carmilla's newer incarnations, not her default form.

I don't want to sound like a hipster (”I liked Carmilla before the webseries made her cool!”), I just thought that as a lesbian vampire lover I should make a post about my favourite vampire, and the history I have with the character.

There are some images of blood under the cut.

When I was younger, there really wasn't any lesbian litterature around (well, there probably was but I didn't know what books to search). I had a habit of switching genders in the books I read, making everyone female so I could get the girl romances I craved for, but this always felt forced and not ”real.” I read lots of vampire stories, because I've always loved that genre, but it was very much dominated by stories of male vampires. When I read Dracula, it had a short introduction speech that talked about the history of modern vampire stories, and it mentioned Sheridan Le Fanu's Carmilla.

Tracking the novella down was a bit hard, considering that back then I didn't have internet and so could only read books that I found in the library and bookstores. Fortunately the translation of Carmilla was included in one horror anthology that our library had. I managed to get my hands on it, and this cover illustration was the first ”face” of Carmilla that I knew.

I can't really put a finger on why I became so obsessed with this story. It's not that great of a novella. A very basic old-timey vampire story about a monster who threatens the life of the protagonist, who is saved when the monster's true nature is revealed, after which it is hunted down and destroyed. And the lesbian subtext is very, very subtle. There was just something very mysterious and fascinating about Carmilla. She is still among the few vampires who actually frighten me. Though Le Fanu's story isn't very scary by modern standards, Laura's nightmare scenes somehow got under my skin. There's something very creepy in the way vampires in older stories used to steal blood from their victims while they were sleeping. The idea, that there exists a predator who instead of straight up attacking its prey, approaces it by a cover of flawless mimicry, is horrifying. You are being slowly eaten alive and you're not even aware of it happening, or that it's your charming friend doing it to you.

I started having dreams about Carmilla. The first ones were nightmares, but even if they were scary, they didn't make me anxious, just excited. I was scared of Carmilla, but I wanted to see her, I wanted to hear her voice. It was as if I had fallen under her spell, much like Laura, but unlike Laura, I was aware of her true nature. I knew what she wanted, I knew that in my dreams, her kisses would lead to bites. But to a young lesbian who loved vampire stories, those kisses were worth losing a few drops of blood in the dream kingdom. She was one of ”my people.” She was not a genderswapped male hero, she was ”real.” She genuinely loved women and blood, and I loved her.

Halloween isn't really celebrated where I live, but one October a friend of mine decided that she'd hold a Halloween party (which became a yearly tradition for us for many years to come). She invited a group of her friends to watch horror movies at her house, and everyone should wear a costume. There was no competition what I would go as. I had a light blue dress that I decorated with blood stains, and over it I wore a dark gray cape, on which I had painted purple flower patterns to make it resemble the coat Carmilla wears on the cover illustration. It must be almost twenty years old, but I still have that cape.

Little Pellicano as Carmilla. I think I must have been 13 or 14 when this party was held.

Then I saw my first Carmilla movie. A Hammer film called Vampire Lovers.

This is a very silly movie. Very cheesy. But young Pellicano loved it. I can still quote many of the scenes from memory. The movie follows LeFanu's novella rather loosely, but I think it's one of the most faithful adaptations. It included the basic ”plot” that Carmilla uses to get close to her victims, has the nightmares (including Carmilla's monstrous cat form), keeps the plot point that she must form her new names anagrammically and makes her killer be a man who lost his daughter to the vampire. So far I think it's the only movie version that includes the scene where Carmilla sees the funeral procession of a girl she killed and loses it completely. I've always found that scene interesting, many claim that her fit of anxiety is caused by hearing the chanting (being unholy creature who's weak to christian things) but I think it's more than that. Either she has horrifying flashbacks to her own funerals (waking to vampirism and having to claw her way out of her own grave, that would scar me for sure) or she is genuinely sorry for killing the girl and terrified of having to face the truth that her love will always end in death.

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I want to interpret Carmilla as a vampire who really loves her victims, not as playthings but as real lovers. But she wasn't a reluctant vampire either, she embraced the monstrous side of herself. It was natural to her, and so it was inevitable that the women she loved would eventually die. Maybe she preferred to ignore this knowledge in the daytime, and when she was forced to see what her night time activities had resulted in, the fit of anxiety happened.

A bit off topic, but one scene from the novella that I've never seen make it into a movie, is when a wandering salesman offers his dentistry services to Carmilla, offering to file down her fangs, which sends Carmilla into a fit of rage. I don't know, I always thought that scene pretty funny. Poor guy, offering to de-fang a vampire and getting a HOW DARE YOU rant in response.

So, the next ”face” of Carmilla was obviously Ingrid Pitt. While this movie wasn't particularly explicit (all the sex happens off screen), the lesbian subtext was much less subtle, which pleased young Pellicano. And then there was the infamous bathing scene (would show pics, but gotta censor for Tumblr. You can easily find them by image googling.).

When I was younger, I suffered from being underweight for a long time (had always been a small girl). Seeing Ingrid Pitt's figure motivated me to try to gain weight. She was so beautifully soft and curved, not just her chest, but her shoulders and legs and everything just looked so smooth and nice, while I had thin, pointy, stick-like limbs with sharp edges and none of that lovely roundness. I know teens should not look at celebrities and actresses as body models, but I think having Ingrid Pitt's shape as body goal was healthy for me. I never reached that goal, of course, but I did eventually reach normal weight limits (50kg, the weight needed for blood donors).

That friend of mine, who hosted Halloween parties, watched the movie with me and knew that I was obsessed with Carmilla. One day she got me a fake gold necklace with a red plastic gem on it, shaped like a blood drop. I don't know where she got this trinket from, but it was similar to the pendant Carmilla wears in the movie, and even if it was just cheap junk, I treasured it. And totally wore it during the next Halloween party, going as Carmilla like I always did. I've lost the gold chain, but I still have the gem.

Also still have the VHS. I don't know why I've kept it, I have no VHS player anymore.

Before I move on from Ingrid Pitt, I’d like to mention a pet peeve of mine. Ingrid Pitt has done two vampire roles (three if Elisabeth Bathory from Countess Dracula is counted). The more famous role is obviously Carmilla, it’s probably her most famous role ever, period. Her other vampire role is Carla Lynde from House that Dripped Blood. Now, the thing that annoys me is that article writers tend to always mix these two up. Whenever they write something about Carmilla or female vampires in general, they always mention Ingrid Pitt’s role as Carmilla in Vampire Lovers, but they always use the same damn stupid promo photo that is from House that Dripped Blood. That’s lazy research! Do they just image google “Ingrid Pitt vampire” and fail to check if the photo they use is actually from the movie they’re talking about?! The roles don’t even look identical, Carmilla’s a brunette while Carla Lynde is blonde, Vampire Lovers is set in 1800s, House that Dripped Blood is set in 20th century. The worst one was when the museum in my home city had a vampire themed exhibition and even they used the wrong photo for Vampire Lovers. If a museum can’t get their facts straight, that’s just sad.

Here is an example of my pet peeve in action, an article about vampire movies, using the wrong fucking photo for Vampire Lovers. And yes, I know why they like using this particular photo (”höhöhöö boobs, I’m so mature”). But that just makes me more angry when they do it.

Hammer made a sequel to Vampire Lovers called Lust for a Vampire. It was... disappointing. It introduced a male love interest for Carmilla, which in my opinion was complete bullshit. If you want to make a story about a female vampire who falls in love with a human boy, by all means make it, but don't call it Carmilla, call it something else. That being said, there were a good amount of lesbian action going on as well (this time Carmilla plotted her way into an all girls' school...) and if there's one thing Hammer rarely fails at delivering, it's the bucketloads of unconvincing bright red fake blood. I skipped the icky het sex, but always enjoyed this scene:

Yeah, Yutte Stensgaard was the third ”face” of Carmilla. When I think of that name, this blood-covered, sleepy-looking vampire maiden is among the images that instantly pop into my mind.

The third Carmilla movie I saw was titled just Carmilla and starred Meg Tilly.

This was clearly a cheaper (maybe made for TV) adaptation. Meg Tilly didn't leave as big an impression as Ingrid Pitt and Yutte Stensgaard did. But I do remember one line from the movie clearly. When Marie (the southerner ”Laura” of this version) asks about Carmilla's past, Carmilla brushes it aside by saying ”That was another lifetime. I'm much happier now.” I adopted this phrase into use. Whenever people are unknowingly asking about a painful thing from my past that I don't want to talk about, I will say it to let them know that nothing good comes from digging old wounds that have already scarred. That was another lifetime. I'm much happier now.

I do remember that Meg Tilly's Carmilla was the movie with the ”awkward floaty blood drinking pose.”

I'm sorry, but that just doesn't look comfortable. Or functional.

Then the big day came – my family got a computer that could access internet. It was an awful piece of junk that could barely be used for writing emails and visiting messageboards. It wouldn't play videos, loading images took forever and big pictures often made it freeze. However, I had access to the internet now. The first word I ever googled was obviously ”carmilla.” Among the sites I found back then, was one about a German play, starring a woman called Ulrike Schneidewind.

The site had big, beautiful promo photos of the play. They took forever to load, but I returned to watch them often. There was something captivating in Ulrike Schneidewind's look for Carmilla. I'm not usually a fan of vampires with the white face+red lipstick+loads of mascara-look, but hers was beautiful, like a painting, like a creature that really wasn't human.

I don’t know if they used fake blood in the actual play or if it was only for these promo photos, but it looks incredibly pretty and surprisingly convincing.

I have no idea what this demon looking thing is supposed to be - Carmilla’s monstrous cat form maybe?

Ulrike Schneidewind became the next ”face” of Carmilla, even though I have never seen her act. All I've seen are these promo photos of the play (I have heard her speak. There's a couple minutes long news clip on Youtube about a vampire lifestyler event she attended). Supposedly there exists a VHS of the Carmilla play they performed on a Romanian tour, but they must have only made a handful of those, since I've never seen it on sale anywhere. I check the German eBay every now and then in faint hopes of finding a copy but I've come to accept that I'll probably never see this show. But still, Ulrike Schneidewind's look left an impression on my mind.

Around those times I started to draw comics in which my self-insert character shared a house with six vampire roommates (Carmilla, who owned the house, Brunhilda from Wake Not the Dead, Teresa from Last Lords of Gardonal, Ruthven, Dracula and Francis Varney) and an OC named Charity (Brunhilda's donor and girlfriend). I mostly pulled the designs for my vampires out of thin air, really (well, Dracula was as he was descrided in the novel, with fuzzy moustache and bushy eyebrows) but Carmilla's design was based on Ulrike Schneidewind's look, with blue veins shining through the white skin and lots of dark makeup and black hair.

Sad part is that it's been over ten years and my drawing skills have not improved at all. This is not ”art” this is doodles. But drawing these was super fun back then, so I shouldn't feel ashamed of them now, I think.

Besides these comics, I wrote some fanfics too. But I'm very glad I never put those anywhere public, because damn, they are embarrassing to read now. It's because my fanfics were actually serious business, full of drama and sturm und drang, and they turned out rather cheesy. Also full of, ahem, erotic content written by someone who had no personal experience on the subject yet. The comics on the other hand were just made for shits and giggles, and I think they've survived the test of time better (by which I mean, that I have actually shown my comics to other people, because occasionally I think I made a fun one, while I've never shown my fics to anyone and have already burned the worst ones.).

When the wonderland of internet was opened to me, I gained access to all the books in the world. I was no longer restricted by what our library and book stores had, I could buy stuff that wasn't published here. So obviously I got a copy of Kyle Marffin's Carmilla sequel. It's not a very good book. Quite silly, childish and badly written (men really shouldn't write about lesbians, they know nothing about them and enjoying an erotic scene becomes rather hard when you imagine some gross het dude writing it while drooling on his keyboard). But it was the first time I read a rather explicit lesbian sex scene, and that got me very excited, because finally all the subtext was thrown to garbage. Here it was, black on white, proof that Carmilla was into girls, not just their blood but their bodies as well. My late discovery of lesbian erotica may seem weird now, when anyone can gain access to mountains of lesbian smut in the internet, but back when I lived with my parents I never dared to look up smut on the home computer, in fear that they'd find out. Until I moved out, my only access to lesbian erotica was books, and Carmilla's Return was the first one I got.

Rant time: I might also add, that annoyingly enough I had been encountering explicit het sex scenes in books, movies and TV years before. And while I never intentionally searched naughty stuff on the net, I had bumped into het porn there accidentally as well. I wonder if heteros understand how freaking frustrating this kind of thing was. Their smut was all over the place, in every book, every film and all around the net, pretty much rubbed to my face, while MY stuff was so obscure I didn't even know where to look for it. And then they had the nerve to claim that we are ”flaunting it” and ”making it all about ourselves” whenever there was a gay sidecharacter somewhere. Grr. Grrr. Rant over.

I bumped into some incarnations of Carmilla later too, but none left an impression on my mind like these early ones did. The worst Carmilla I ever saw was the main villain in Lesbian Vampire Killers. That movie is easily the worst vampire movie I have ever seen (maybe even the worst movie I've seen, period), it's an ”erotic horror comedy” that is neither sexy, scary or funny. It is nice that when they were thinking of a character to star in a movie about lesbian vampires, they chose Carmilla. But the movie is such utter garbage, I'd rather they'd left my favourite vampire out of it. Save your money and sanity - don't watch this movie. It's bad.

I feel like a lot of time people want to take Carmilla's name and make a whole new character with it (like Reimi Urara's character in Vampire Succession, who is named Carmilla but isn't even a vampire at all). These ”Carmilla in name only” kind of characters don't count, and frankly speaking I'm not that fond of them. I guess it is nice that people want to pay respect to the legendary vampire by naming a character after her, but my opinion still is that if you don't want to tell the story of a lesbian vampire, call your character something else. If you take away either of Carmilla's two passions; that of women or that of blood, the character loses her trademark characteristics and stops being ”real.” You don't make a Godzilla movie where the king of the monsters isn't allowed to have his trademark atomic breath, and you don't make a Carmilla who doesn't love women and blood.

Now that I have said that, you probably guess my opinion about the (*spoilers*) ending of the webseries's third season. Yeah, I wasn't a fan of humanizing Carmilla. So, I went to see the movie with rather low expectations, and was pleasantly surprised. This movie is more Carmilla than all of the webseries's seasons together.

But let's speak about the webseries first. I was very positively surprised by it. One day I ended up googling Carmilla again (was probably looking for fanfics) and discovered this little gem. It had very little to do with Le Fanu's original, but what it decided to change was so good that I didn't care. And it had still lots of little nods to the novella. Carmilla's anagrammical names, the nightmares, they freaking included Laura's governesses De Lafontaine and Perrodon (I would totally watch a spin-off that just follows the adventures of Laf and Perry) and there's even a scene where Carmilla is watching over sleeping Laura, looking a bit similar to a famous illustration of the novella. Also, the theme song ”Love will have it's sacrifices”, is a direct quote, from a scene where Carmilla is describing to Laura the night when the curse of vampirism was passed on to her (of course, she doesn't out right say it, but the reader knows what she's talking about).

”--- I was all but assassinated in my bed, wounded here," she touched her breast, "and never was the same since."

"Were you near dying?"

"Yes, very--a cruel love--strange love, that would have taken my life. Love will have its sacrifices. No sacrifice without blood.---”

I'm not going to say the webseries doesn't have its flaws, a little lazy writing here and there, plot holes and inconsistent characters occasionally (I feel sorry for Danny. She just can't win.). But it was incredibly entertaining, it made me laugh and it made me care about what happens to everyone. And like probably a lot of the fans, I adored the fact that they didn't dance around the lesbian thing. When Laura understands that Carmilla's advances weren't blood-related, her reaction isn't any dumb ”But we're both girls, how can this be?!” Whoever understood to make Laura gay too was a genius. When she gets all flattered and blushing after learning that a beautiful girl finds her attractive, it's such a relatable feeling. It's the lesbian romance I so wanted as a teen! Not stories of a predatory lesbian seducing dumb clueless het girls to the dark side, but girls experiencing all the usual things female leads in romantic stories do, only with another girl as their love interest.

The first season of the webseries is my favourite. The second was pretty good, too. Third, in my opinion, a bit unnecessary (here I think you could see the writing starting to slip). Then came the movie.

They could have completely abandoned the vampire theme and proceeded with the heroes' further adventures. But they didn't and thank goodness for it. They return to draw inspiration from the original source; the novella. We have nightmares, and I admit they actually made me uneasy, reminding me of that creepy feel Laura's dream scenes gave me in the novella. The image of Carmilla laying down in a coffin filled with blood is also from the story. There's a scene where Carmilla is forced to reveal her vampiric nature, and it really reminds me of the scene where it happens in the book.

And they freaking quote it, probably being the first adaptation ever to use straight quotes from the book. ”Die together so they can live together”-speech isn't quite right word-to-word, I think, but still, it's an identifiable quote. I used to be able to quote the ”You are mine, you shall be mine”-speech in English, Swedish and German, but have now forgotten most versions (yeah, I read Carmilla in several languages when I was younger. I was freaking obsessed with the story). I still think it's the most memorable quote from the novella. Also, the book-reading scene with ”Girls are caterpillars who undergo several larval stages before becoming butterflies”-speech is also from the novella. I think the only famous quote missing in this movie is the ”I've never been in love and never shall unless it should be with you”-speech.

As a fan of the ”old” Carmilla I adore how they pay homage to the origin respectfully, while still making their very own story. Again, teenaged Pellicano would have been all over this stuff. But I had to make my lesbian vampire stories from other versions, and while those also have their flaws, I adore them just as much. I am just happy that Carmilla lives on, not forgotten and left in the shadow of the countless more famous male vampires (seriously, where the fuck are all the female vampires? Ones that are actually main characters in their story and pass the freaking vampiric Bechdel test?)

Carmilla lives on, indeed. She has made a new comeback in Netflix's Castlevania series. I watched the first season and liked it quite a bit. It was a bit too gorey for my personal taste, but that wasn’t a dealbreaker. I liked the art style and was interested to see where they take the story. When I heard rumours that the second season would have a character named Carmilla, my reaction was pretty much “Carmilla is part of the Castlevania franchise?! Why did no one tell me this before?!”

Of course I’m always eager to see new adaptations of my favourite vampire. So, I did some research to know which games she appears in, made some popcorn and sat down to watch some Let’s Play videos (I’m not a gamer and don’t own game consoles so the only way I get to experience videogames is through Let’s Plays in Youtube.). But I ended up rather disappointed. Carmilla in the Castlevania games is cartoonishly silly at best, downright insulting to the original at worst.

So, after seeing how poorly the games treated my favourite vampire, I looked forward to the second season of the Netflix series with mixed feelings. I was hopeful, thinking that they can't go anywhere but up from here. And I was pleasantly surprised. The character design made her a bit silly looking with eeeevil face and her body language is very femme fatale-ish (I don’t really see the appeal of the femme fatale trope, but then again, it’s usually written for male audience), but they didn't put her in an ugly, revealing costume and the camera focused on her face instead of her breasts.

It's disappointing that she isn't a lesbian in this one (she makes one joke that hints she might be into girls too, but because Dracula's war council is mostly one big sausage fest, we don't see her interact with other females much).

I am so, so happy that the makers of the show understood that Carmilla is not some boot-licking notice-me-senpai Dracula fangirl (an aspect of her I loathed in the games). The only reasons for a lesbian vampire to ally with a male one are if they have a common goal (such as defending themselves against vampire hunters) or if she has no other choice. Netflix Carmilla is the latter. Dracula is a powerful, dangerous monster, who is also very much insane and therefore unpredictable. When he summons Carmilla to join his senseless crusade against humankind, Carmilla can't afford to refuse and take the chance of the mad vampire king killing her for disobedience and making a warning example of her. She has to go to war she herself deems pointless (well, Godbrand had a point in his ”If vampires kill all the humans, what will the vampires eat?”-speech.). So she begins to plot to prevent the genocide (she actually wants humankind to keep existing as opposed to wiping them from the face of the Earth, remind me again why she is the one every fan hates while they love Dracula the Kill All Humans-madman? Oh right, she assaults one of the male fan favourite characters on screen and is therefore deemed much more evil than Dracula who slaughters countless innocent humans offscreen without mercy. Got it.).

I love that she uses cunning instead of seduction when putting her plot to gain freedom from Dracula's servitude in action. Admittedly, some of the scenes where she's manipulating Hector seem a bit seductive-ish, but are still nothing compared to the ”Oh great master let me lick the blood off your sword!”-bullshit from the games. Also, was I the only one who could see right through her mindgames? Every time she complimented some man, I was shaking my head ”Lady, even blind Reetta can see that you are full of shit.” So it really surprised me when Hector fell for it. How do you fall for such an obvious trap?

I like that Carmilla's reasons for her schemes are reasonable and based on common sense and war strategy rather than just being evil for the sake of being evil. That being said, the scene where she beats Hector felt unnecessary, the man was tied up and would have gone with her even without getting his ass handed to him, because he's a prisoner and has no choice. I understand that it's an important scene symbolically, tying back to the scene where the animal-loving Hector compares vampires to cats, to which Isaac points out that cats play cruelly with their prey. It's a turning point for Hector, who abandoned humanity and tried to find a new family among monsters only to realize that they are, well, monsters. What did you expect voting for Leopards Eating Peoples' Faces Party would bring to you? Anyway, I understand that the scene is important to the plot and character growth, but I can't help but feel that making Carmilla assault a fan favourite character so brutally was the writers way of making sure the audience hates her. I have a feeling that they want to be sure the audience hates her, because they have something disgusting in mind for her for the third season.

I already talked about this in my ”If you have to kill female vampires on screen, please don't make it look like a rape”-post. I am worried what they are going to do with Carmilla. She's obviously going to get killed, but I hope they allow her to go down with dignity. Lords of Shadows 2 already gave us a really disgusting, rapey killing scene (I’ve only seen one killing scene with an even clearer “lesbianism can be cured by rape”-theme, in Lesbian Vampire Killers where Carmilla is impaled by a dick-shaped sword), we do not need another. I don't want Hector or Isaac or Dracula impaling her body slowly and looking downward at her in disgust as she painfully dies. Yes, Dracula will be coming back, it's Castlevania after all. I'm also worried of the possibility that instead of killing her, they make Dracula force her back into his servitude, which would also be super gross.

I am happy that the character of Carmilla lives on, that new fans get to experience her with these new incarnations, but whenever a new Carmilla surfaces, I am also a bit worried at how they are going to handle her character this time. I will have to wait and see how the third season of Castlevania ends, until then it is useless to speculate.

#carmilla #vampire #vampire lovers #lust for a vampire #ingrid pitt #yutte stensgaard #ulrike schneidewind #natasha negovanlis #meg tilly

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the-zodiacs-written-in-the-stars · 5 years

Text

Chapter 18: Angelique Lamour

You make a beautiful mermaid, you know.”

“What do you want, Tony? You only give out free compliments when you want something.”

Angel smiled into her mirror at the image of Tony standing behind her. The heterochromic model ran a hand through his hair and pouted at her. He was looking pretty good himself as a merman, with the various shades of purple adoring his torso and face, patterns of scales making him look completely different. Continuing to smile, Angel fixed her hair a bit. Most of them had been finished with make-up, but the shoot couldn't start without the star; Poseidon. So they were all currently waiting for the finishing touches on today's center-piece.

“I was hoping you had some hot guy you could set me up with”, sighed Tony.

“...Are you serious?”, asked Angel surprised and turned around in her chair. “You?”

Tony huffed and crossed his arms. “Look. I'm aware I'm an absolute catch and I have no problems batting my eyelashes at a guy and make him buy me a yacht. But that's all so... superficial.”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Tony sat down on Angel's vanity, pouting at her. “Kit's been talking all about the cutesy little dates that Joss has been having with that hot lady doctor Laureen set them up with. So, I figured, maybe stop seducing rich guys who just want sex, maybe ask a good friend to set me up with someone they think is a good match. Congrats, you're the friend I chose because Kit is too much of a lesbian to even acknowledge that men could be dating material for others, she just wiggled her nose at me and glared in a very disturbed way. So. Set me up with a guy.”

Angel smiled at that and perked up a little. Tony was right, Joss had been happier in the past two weeks than Angel had seen them in a long time. Maybe if finding a date yourself isn't working, trusting a good friend can work. She was more than happy to help. Just to deflate a little.

“I... don't exactly know a lot of gay guys. Or, you know, guys on the gay-spectrum. Uhm. Would you say that like that? Like, bisexual and pansexual men”, elaborated Angel before pausing. “Actually no never mind I just had an absolute genius idea! Oh!”

She suddenly jumped up in excitement and got her phone out. Tony raised a suspicious eyebrow.

“Do not make me regret this, Lamour!”, warned Tony seriously.

Angel just giggled delighted while texting before holding up her phone and taking a picture of Tony. Look at that pretty face. Fancy a date with him? 28, professional model, hobby baker and artist at heart. He's a cutie! And you've been a sulking single for OVER a year now!!!

“Just you wait”, chimed Angel and pulled up a picture. “Look at this. Would want to date him?”

Tony made a drawn-out humming sound. “Cute. Freckles. Bit of a kitten-vibe and I'm more of a puppy-person. But sure. Nice to look at. Seems... familiar somehow.”

“He's my ex. Jamie, the pub-owner”, offered Angel, tilting her head.

“Mh. Business-owner”, whispered Tony. “Nice. Okay, sure. If he's on board, set us up for a date.”

Angel made a delighted noise at that, before someone cleared their throat next to them. Both models turned to look at Noxia Black. The photographer looked incredibly unimpressed, a glare on her face as she tapped her fingers against the side of her camera.

“If you two are done playing dating app, you're at work here”, grunted Noxia annoyed.

“Sorry, boss lady”, grinned Tony and Angel sheepishly.

“I'm not the boss lady. She is”, stated Noxia and jerked her head toward Sonia Gold.

It wasn't necessarily regular for Sonia to sit in on a shooting herself. Tony and Angel exchanged a curious look. Granted, this was a huge shoot for this campaign. Poseidon had first been presented as a competitive swimmer, showing off the swim-suit line-up together with other such sea deities. After the first big ads had been aired and plastered all over the streets, showing the athletic Olympic gods in Chiron Training gear, they now wanted to broaden the campaign and double down on the mythology. Poseidon presenting a gold-medal to an actual Olympic gold-medal winner, with the other models who played the Olympian gods dressed as mermaids and mermen surrounding them as bystanders. Angel absolutely loved the pitch for this one – and the costumes!

“Don't be bothered by the boss”, assured Sonia with one of her charming smiles.

Sonia Gold fascinated Angel. She was downright perfect. Always perfectly dressed, with no wrinkles on her clothes, not a hair out of place, make-up, shoes and jewelry always fitting the outfit. She was the perfect image of a business woman the way Angel had always pictured them.

“What can we do for you, Miss Gold?”, asked Tony, his smile matching hers.

He looked amazing with the silk wrapped around his lower body, his upper body painted purple and with scales. The only thing missing about his outfit so far were the contact lenses meant to make him look like a predator. Angel understood that; she hadn't put hers in yet. They always irritated her eyes so she'd rather wait until they were necessary.

“When I was getting ready this morning, I was thinking about the shoot and a piece of my private jewelry caught my eyes. I thought that it would work wonders with the costume-design for you, Angelique”, explained Sonia and opened her purse.

She got a black box out and opened it to show a breathtaking pearl-necklace to Angel. It was a three-strand necklace with pearls of various white and blue shades and different sizes. The biggest pearl at the front of the upper strand looked as though it had an H on it. How curious.

“This looks beautiful and expensive”, noted Angel softly.

“Oh, believe me, it is”, laughed Sonia. “You truly think I own a single piece of jewelry worth less than 50k? Sweetheart, please. I couldn't embarrass myself like this.”

“So when you say that, just... how much is this one?”, asked Tony slowly, motioning at the pearls.

“250k”, replied Sonia with a smooth smile. “So try not to lose it and return it to me later.”

“W... What? I can't wear this”, sputtered Angel flustered. “Sonia, please.”

“Oh, nonsense. I have over half a dozen pearl-necklaces”, dismissed Sonia casually. “I saw the design-pitch from Elizabeth and knew something... eye-catching was missing. This, this will do. I want this campaign to be perfect. Now, back to work, people.”

“You heard the boss lady. Back to work”, repeated Noxia louder. “Let's get this shoot started.”

~*~

Angel had a skip to her step as she walked the halls of Gold Standard, heading toward her best friend's desk. Joss looked deep in thought, hunched over their laptop. For Angel, who had come to the US from France, it had been strange to talk about a single person with plural pronouns because they were gender-neutral. That just did not naturally exist in the French language in the way English offered 'they' and ever since meeting Joss, Angel had come to appreciate this special thing about the English language. Because while Joss mostly preferred either 'she' or 'he', Angel was not a mind-reader and when not with Joss – which was generally the main instances when one used pronouns for people – Angel couldn't always know what pronouns Joss preferred that day, unless she had talked to Joss that day beforehand. Angel had voiced that confusion to Joss after the two had first become friends and Joss had encouraged her to use neutral pronouns then. Most working close with Joss knew and respected that. And some days, particularly when Joss was already stressed and telling people what they preferred was just too much work and too exhausting on top of everything, Joss just generally went with 'they'.

“Yo—ou look like you could use a cupcake.”

Smiling, Angel placed a cupcake with blue frosting in front of Joss. Blinking a few times, Joss looked up at her. After taking a bite from the cupcake, Joss offered Angel a small smile.

“Thanks”, mumbled Joss around the bite. “Sugar and food was exactly what I needed.”

“Wonderful. So that will make it easier to get details about your date”, stated Angel eagerly.

“Oh no. No. Don't”, groaned Joss. “Why are you so invested in my love-life?”

“Call me Amor, I seek love-stories”, chimed Angel. “Come on, please. You've been so busy lately, you and Sunny must be going on a ton of dates, right?”

Joss shifted a little and cleared their throat. “It was... very nice. Unexpected, to be honest. I've never been to a charity gala before. Gave me an excuse to wear that fancy cocktail dress you gave me for my last birthday. Savitri was... flustered and gaping at me. It was... a nice feeling?”

Angel giggled a little at that and sat down on the edge of the desk. “I like this new thing you have going on. With the smiling and the staring at your phone with a far-off look when she texts you.”

“Shut up”, grumbled Joss and tossed a piece of cupcake at Angel. “Did you just come here to torment me and interrogate me, or did you want something else...?”

“Yes, I wanted to go get lunch with you. And before that, I wanted to drop these off with Sonia again. They're... hers. She gave them to me for the last shoot.”

Her fingers played with the pearls. Joss narrowed their eyes at Angel. Some days, Joss presented as very feminine – with the hair, make-up, heels and wearing a skirt-suit. Angel had come to realize that the most strict of dress-code, pants and vest, when Joss would also be binding and usually had the hair up in a bun, usually meant that Joss was presenting as a guy that day. Angel, as a model, knew that clothes by far weren't everything. And then there were the more ambiguous days, or the days where even though Joss was feeling female, she still had no mind/focus/time to put thought into make-up or hair, so it was tricky to judge based on looks alone. Angel had to admit, it had fascinated her a lot at first – when she had come to Los Angeles, she had just been nineteen and only had a vague understanding of trans people existing, but a broader spectrum? She had tiptoed a lot and probably asked many inappropriate questions, but Joss had been very indulgent and patient. Which, Angel now knew, was really not something Joss had owed her and, the more often Angel saw it, saw people who did not understand anything about Joss' gender-identity, the more Angel understood just why. It really couldn't be Joss' responsibility to explain everything to everyone. Moments like those had Angel realize just how easy her life was, being CIS and also being straight. Well, the whole being pretty, white and from a well-doing European country also helped.

“Sonia is out on a lunch-meeting with Carroll Lewis”, informed Joss.

“Carroll Lewis? Like the CEO of Red Queen Records?”, asked Angel in awe. “Oh. I mean, I know they work together on many occasions, but... oh, basically all my favorite musicians are under that label. She has such a keen eye for talent, it's amazing.”

“Mh”, grunted Joss with that furrow-browed look.

“What? What is it?”, asked Angel curiously as the two of them left Joss' desk behind.

Joss led the way to the elevator. “I... have a bad feeling about her. Something about Miss Lewis is... peculiar. And not in the quirky, adorable way you are peculiar.”

“Hey”, huffed Angel with a pout. “I think I may take offense to that.”

Joss quirked their lips as they entered the elevator to make their way to get lunch.

~*~

They barely made it into Liddell's Sweets, by pushing past panicking people. Angel gulped and felt herself immediately pushed behind Joss. She stared wide-eyed over Joss' shoulder just to see the chaos. Costumers, turned to stone. Statues now. Behind the counter, a purple-skinned, scaled version of Laureen Liddell, hissing – no, her hair. Her hair was hissing. Her dreadlocks having come to life and turned into dozens of snakes. Angel squeaked high-pitched.

“What is that?”, exclaimed Angel.

“You need to get out of here”, ordered Joss seriously. “Now.”

“Oh, I am not leaving without you!”, stated Angel sternly, grabbing Joss' wrist.

Joss tried to wrangle out of her grip, but for someone as petite and dainty as Angel, the model really had an iron-grip when it came to protecting those she loved. Only around the corner did Joss manage to shake Angel off, but the blonde still stood close, glaring fiercely.

“What were you planning?”, hissed Angel. “You're my best friend, I won't have you throw your life away trying to save people when you are clearly not qualified! The police, or the local superheroes, are going to take care of this, I'm sure.”

Joss' lips thinned and their face hardened. “Angelique, this is not the time for arguments, this-”

Before Joss could continue with the preaching, a bright blue glow emitted from the pearl-necklace. Moments later and there was a... fish... floating right in front of Angel's face, bubbles – no, that was actual water but it looked like bubbles – floating along with the fish.

“Hello, I am Pisces. Please cease the quarreling, it is unproductive. That in there is Como Berenices, a powerful constellation under the element of fire. Her stare can burn the life away from a person. I am water personified. Pisces, leader of the water-signs. Best equipped to fight them.”

“I... I... The fish is talking. The fish is talking, Joss”, hissed Angel.

“So... Pisces has been laying around at Sonia's place unused”, whispered Joss wide-eyed. “Of course, she is not born under your sign so even if she found the pearl and thought it pretty, it was useless for her because the Zodiacs can only attach themselves to someone born under their sign.”

“What are you talking about? Zodiacs, like the superheroes?”, asked Angel surprised.

“But... You said that Sonia gave you the necklace? You, specifically?”, asked Joss, looking at Angel.

“Hello? Can we please focus on Coma Berenices in there?”, requested Pisces, flapping her fins.

“Yes, Sonia gave them to me, but... So, am I a superhero now?”

Angel looked from Joss to Pisces, completely overwhelmed. The little fish nodded and smiled.

“Close your eyes and concentrate on your costume and a weapon of your choice”, instructed Pisces.

Nodding, Angel did as she was told. She made a delighted sound when she opened her eyes again and turned to look into the window-front of the long-since abandoned store next to them. Most businesses around had already been evacuated thanks to the villain-attack on the café. She was wearing a strong, if her wishes had been fulfilled bullet-proof, shirt with frills running out looking like scales, her waistline highlighted like she remembered seeing mermaids in cartoons, the skirt light and wide enough to allow for good leg-movement. Her shoes were sturdy boots matching her shirt and her mask in color. Light blue, nearly cyan. Her lips were a darker shade of blue, matching the shells woven into her long, blonde hair. A braid was far more practical for fighting. And in her hand, she was holding a trident as long as she was tall.

“You look ridiculous”, whispered Joss softly. “How does a professional model have zero taste in fashion, I just... don't understand that...”

“How is that the reaction you have to me becoming a superhero and just... sparkle-changing into a new outfit! There is a flying, talking fish right there!”, exclaimed Angel frustrated.

Joss looked at her fondly before rubbing their cuff-links. A blinding, white light surrounded Joss and when it faded, they were wearing a gray cloak over a black and white checkered outfit. On their shoulder sat a black and white owl. But not like a snow-owl black and white, no one half was entirely black and, split in the middle, the other half was white. How... huh.

“This is Gemini, my partner. I've been... working in the shadows until I joined the Zodiac alliance recently”, elaborated Joss with a sigh. “Pisces. You sure it's a good idea to send Angel in there? She hasn't had a day's worth of training, not with her powers or her weapon.”

“Oh, please, dear”, huffed Angel offended, whirling her trident once. “You think I'd cook up a weapon I can't use at least some? I've learned to fight with a staff and I've actually fought with lances before, on horses, when I was working the medieval fair during high school. This? Can't be that much harder. Same principle, just got three points instead of one.”

“The important thing is: You need to concentrate. Your focus is your main weapon. If you focus, you can control water”, stated Pisces seriously. “How much and how far your reach is, that depends on just how well your grip on your concentration is.”

Angel locked eyes with Joss and nodded firmly. Together, the duo ran out from the alley and right into Liddell's Sweets. Joss immediately reached out to cover Angel's eyes. Right. Looked like Medusa, had the powers of Medusa, probably. When Joss removed their hand again, everything around them was foggy. They could vaguely make out shapes, but such a thing as actual eye-contact was impossible. Angel turned to look surprised at her best friend.

“Gemini is under the element of air. I learned to... work with that”, whispered Joss. “Make the air thinner, warmer, colder, thicker. Fog... is pretty easy. But now we have to stay alert.”

“Okay. So. What is this? I mean, this... thing... is... possessing Laureen?”, asked Angel confused.

“Sort of. Your power, your costume, your weapon, they come from a symbiotic bond with Pisces. This is... a more parasitic kind of bond”, replied Joss quickly. “We need to wash it out. In my experience, knocking them out severs the bond. An unconscious body can't be used. When they part, we have to collect the... pearl. Contain it. Got it?”

“Exhaust, wash out, take the jewelry. Simple enough”, nodded Angel seriously.

The hissing of snakes was the only warning before teeth sank into Angel's arm. She screamed and tore her arm away from the vicious Medusa-like monster that used to be this kind, sweet baker.

“If we hurt it, do we hurt her?”, asked Angel panicked.

“It... depends”, sighed Joss. “I don't know for this one. Some are capable of protecting their host.”

Angel stumbled over a petrified customer on the ground. Were they dead? Would they turn back? No time to think on that. Her head snapped up and she zoomed in on the bar.

“Okay. Okay. Okay. Can you distract her?”, asked Angel. “Buy me some time.”

“Sure. Be... careful, Pisces”, requested Joss concerned.

Joss kept their head down as they started fighting hand to hand against the alien symbiote in front of them. Angel hurried over to the bar, turning on the faucet, using everything she could find that was liquid – coffee, tea, even the water from the flower-vases on the table. Closing her eyes, she lifted all the water and aimed it at Laureen-not-Laureen. The snakes screeched as Angel surrounded them in a cocoon of water, causing Joss to immediately back off.

“Pisces. What are you doing?”, asked Joss loudly.

“You said passing out makes them part. So I make her pass out without hurting her. Well. Without hurting her too much. She just has to lose conscience. So. Shut up, because I don't wanna drown her and have to concentrate over here”, barked Angel out.

Joss looked honestly taken aback by that, but remained quiet after. Coma Berenices struggled, until she didn't and her form floating in the pillar of water became limb. A purple light faded from her and left Laureen, snakes turned back to limb dreadlocks. Angel immediately dropped the water, while Joss hurried over to give CPR. When Laureen was spitting water all over, Angel picked up the small marble. Purple and glassy. She blinked curiously and pocketed it.

“What... happened?”, asked Laureen, voice raspy.

“Nothing to worry about. You are safe now, random citizen”, assured Angel.

Joss raised an eyebrow at that, though they then urged Angel on to leave the café behind while the petrified customers slowly turned back human. The two made it around the corner before turning back to their civil identity. Angel handed the marble over to Joss.

“I'll take care of this”, nodded Joss, frowning. “But there are other things that worry me more. Sonia had a Zodiac, just like that. And then knew to give it to someone born under that sign. Then she happens to be out for lunch so you can't give a three-hundred thousand dollar necklace back.”

“You're... not suggesting that Sonia Gold is... involved with this, right?”, asked Angel worried.

With a head-shake, Joss sighed. “Come on. Let's go get lunch, Angel.”

Read here on AO3!

Previous Chapter <- || Masterpost || -> Next Chapter

#Story: Written in the Stars #Own Story #Pisces: Angelique Lamour #Project: Written in the Stars #Superheroes

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parkbearum · 5 years

Text

Limerence

Part 1 | Ceo/Boss! Chanyeol

The artificial lighting in the room scattered around from the shiny rocks on the chandelier,creating small illusions around the huge hall.The sound of classic music filled the concrete walls covered in luxurious wallpaper and decorated with fancy paintings many knew the name of.

Taking a look around the room,there were all sorts of people and the only thing they had in common was money,a lot of it.Some were owners of business empires,much like your boss.Some were respected writers and journalists,a few were models who came as dates to some of the busiest people in the room.

And you were just a secretary.

A good one,one with reputation and class after having worked with him.You had seen a few familiar faces around the crowd,a girl who was also a secretary and the guy you knew from the conference last year and that was more than enough,you weren’t here to have fun anyways,or at least that’s what you told yourself.

Charity events like these were more to show off a little,not money but either a girlfriend or a company of some sort.What many didn’t know was that all these people who had more money than they could handle were brutally lonely to the point where they used money to do anything and everything,which was something you dreaded.

Feeling his presence next to you,you turned to face your boss who seemed exceptionally sharp today.He was wearing a velvet suit with small decorations on the sleeves,most of his buttons undone until you could partially see his chest and more eye candy added with a few silver necklaces he added for extra touch.From his smile,you could see that he was having a good time.

Countless times,he had asked you to come to an event.The name changed from an auction to a small party,the request not so much.He had given you the option to say no as he knew how hardworking you were but his eyes always wanted you to be next to him,anytime and anywhere.But you ignored that for the longest time possible,for your own good.

“Enjoying the talk,sweetheart?”he asked with a smirk,you had done a lot of talking this evening as he let you take control of the conversation made with another business owners,he knew the level of extreme professionalism you worked with.

Otherwise,you would’ve been laying in his bed already.

There were rumors,small things people said about him that you knew were true.This included his reputation around women and his enormous charisma he carried around.There were also things you had experienced that were hard to ignore,his stares and small,gentle touches for reassurement he would give you.These things sometimes stuck with you but you were sane enough to keep feelings separate from work,even when it was barely existent.

It was true that your work was a huge part of your life,it took every weekday including saturday and this meant hours and hours on end talking to him,listening and observing.Sometimes it was when you would have takeout together in his office or when he would take you to a small shop for certain discussions for deals but it always meant that you would be with him,him only.

“Trying my best,Sir.”You smiled a little,not to the point where your eyes squinted.

You felt his hand on your wrist,pulling you to the other corner of the room.While walking,he linked arms with you with his hand on your still.You were quite blunt on touching,especially with him to keep things as professional as possible and you had talked about linking arms before where you told him that you were okay with it.

Greeting unfamiliar faces,you smiled to some businessman and businesswoman and started the conversation with his help.Talking about the event,your business and theirs as well as future plans as this was a place of deals and familiarity between companies.After an hour or so,you were still trying to smile to another person while they talked about their boat adventures.

You had been working with him for months now but this was still unfamiliar to you,the smell of luxury and wasted money they all talked about.Sure,it wasn’t a waste of money to go on vacation but no one needed to hire three beach houses,you thought to yourself while trying not to sigh,and he noticed.

Excusing the both of you all of a sudden,he walked you to a corridor where there was no one but red walls and a sculpture in the middle.You back hit the wall while he looked at you in the eye,waiting for you to say something while you stood there,stunned at what he was doing.

“Is everything alright?”he asked,his voice deep while your eyes tried to escape his.

“Y-Yeah..”you let out,you didn’t believe your own words so it was hard for him to do so.

“You sure,darling?”he called you as usual,sensing that you were quite uncomfortable with what was being talked about.

You stood there,head rested against the wall that you were leaning your back on while he looked at you with worry and nothing else.You gulped,measuring your words before you opened your mouth to let him really know what you were feeling,which was not something you did when it came to him.

“It’s ridiculous.”you scoffed while not looking at him,he was scanning your whole face while you said it.

You didn’t wait for him to understand,he was the richest one in the room after all.There were things you enjoyed,like fancy restaurants and being able to afford a lot of things but listening to an old rich guy talk about his beach house and a girl his daughter’s age were not things you could take,not this easy.

“You mean what he was talking about?”he asked,not like a question but more like a statement.You nodded,expecting him to say nothing as it was hard for him to understand,he had been doing this for a long time.“He is quite something.”he said,looking down at his feet while still talking to you.

“He’s quite ignorant despite all the money he makes.”he murmured under his breath.“Wrong people with the right kind of power.”while still not looking at you.

Your eyes stared at him for more than necessary because of what he just said.You knew how intelligent he was from the way he carried himself but this,it wasn’t something he would comment on,or so you thought until now.You had thought that he was used to this,being one of the guys who thought that he could get anything with money but things like this conversation made you realize that he was the builder of his own empire,he had started from zero.

Your eyes linked with his,you stared into each other’s faces for a few minutes.You didn’t look away,you couldn’t with the way he made it hard to breathe.He,on the other hand,was willing to do whatever to make you realize the thing he had been hiding for so long,he was content with letting you know now that you were his familiar person.

“Sweetheart.”he called,not breaking eye-contact at all while you nodded slightly to make him know you were listening.

Slowly,he took your hands while keeping eye contact still.The classic music playing the room had changed to a slower one and it could be heard from this corridor you were in with him.Placing your hand on his shoulder and taking the other in his hand,you felt his body move slowly with rhythm.

The slow piano in the background filled your ears while you felt his breath on your face,hands getting more comfortable with the passing of time while you slow danced,feeling his presence more than ever while finding it hard to look away from his eyes while the reddish lights in the other room found their way into the corridor,making him look even more breathtaking now.

This occasion was unusual,foreign even for so many reasons.After all the meals you’ve had together,you both had your shields up and drew a perfectly thick line between business and personal life,all the times spent together doing the same thing were not times you had thought about him like this,not this fast and not this with much intimacy.

The most he had touched you before was a tap on your shoulder to tell you something and there he was today,holding you from your waist with your other hand on his.The feeling in your guts had your heart feeling uneasy,this was what you had been escaping to hear,all the stories about people ending up in his bed rather than at his desk the next morning.

But you had your consciousness,he wasn’t that intoxicating.Not yet.

A figure at the end of the corridor made both of you stop,pull back while the man walked past both of you with a nod,greeting in his own way.You didn’t look at him nor went back to his arms where you were a few seconds ago and instead,you just looked at your feet.

This wasn’t because you were embarrassed,it was far from it.This intimate moment shared between the two of you was unfamiliar to the point where you felt slightly uncomfortable with it,it wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy dancing with him but it was simply not appropriate,not for you it wasn’t.

You let out a breath before looking at him,he had been staring at your face for a while now,examining features before he knew it was all over from the start.You smiled a little and took a step towards him and he did the exact same,both of you eyeing the reactions of each other until he took your arm and spoke with a soft voice.

“Let’s return to the hall.”he spoke out with a spark in his eyes you were still unsure of.

The following hours included of you talking to a bunch of people about work issues and making a few new friends you had found entertaining and whilst all of this kept happening,the tall figure you found hard to look remained across the room,eyeing you the whole time.It was more like he wanted a reaction out of you,or you thought that was why he had been staring at you for more than necessary.

You also knew his stares.He would grunt and give you a small glare when it was a grumpy day,that was his tired stare.He would be smiling but not to the point where his eyes would be invisible,that was his happy stare when you ordered food but this,it was much more different and intense than anytime you had seen him and it did make your wander a little even though you held yourself.

After endless talks and hours of forced smiling,you were waiting for your car to arrive at the front section of the place.The weather was chilly but not enough to make you shiver.You looked at the sky,no stars were visible and the city remained calm at this hour,it was pretty late and the place was almost empty.

While looking at your bag to check if you had everything,you felt someone next to you,waiting.Looking up and seeing his face,you smiled as usual.You were good at pretending like nothing happened,whether it was with him or somebody else and you were doing exactly that when he spoke to you.

“Do you need a ride,darling?”he asked,his caramel voice making you feel warmer in the chilly weather.

“No,thank you.”you breathed out,doing your possible best to make sure he knew the line you drew,way before this.

“Alright then.”he said,looking around to a few familiar faces and saying his goodbyes.He turned to you and looked at you for a while,waiting for you to say something so that he could speak his mind but you were solid on what you thought and this pushed him to speak first while you were about to get into your car,not wanting to miss the opportunity.

“Come to my office in the morning,I have a deal that could be interesting.”

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riyuyami · 6 years

Note

uuhhhhh for the drabble thing maybe..... reverse yatim?

Ironically I was just reading something involving the reverse au for bat/im…

But here’s my take on it! With elements from several reverse aus I’ve seen!

–

It was insane that Seto could even find him, let alone send him a letter!

The little toon, once a big name in the movies, was now hiding in the streets of the human world, away from the studio. Yami had left twenty years ago after he heard that Yugi was going to leave because of something with Seto, and he honestly wasn’t going to stick around the joint without his favorite human!

But sadly, something happened and Yugi went missing.

Yami left to find him, and he never returned to the studio, too afraid that Seto would feed him back to the machine, or worse…

The shadow demon looked at the letter, then up at the door in front of him, swallowing the lump in his non-existent throat. “Alright, Seto… I’m here… let’s see what you wanted to show me…”

Stepping inside was like a bad trip down memory lane. The studio was a mess, paper everywhere, an old projector playing blank film, a tinny speaker playing the same section of song over and over for no one to listen to.

It broke Yami’s heart to find Yugi’s old office, abandoned. However, it was odd that he didn’t find much dust, or cobwebs.

Actually… a lot of it was straightened up and cleaned, organized.

That made Yami rather nervous…

The rest of the building was a horror show though. Creepy messages, strange cutouts of him all over, the feeling of being watched… and main dish in this horror feast was the sight of his old pal Joey, cut open and his heart missing.

“Oh, Joey! What have they done to ya?!” He gasped, staring at his friend’s body in shock and despair.

Wait… wait, wait, wait, he’s a toon! A toon could be saved, right? They don’t really… die? Yeah, yeah! Yami could save him! He remembered getting hurt before, and Yugi helped patch him up with a little bit of ink from the Ink Machine.

That’s it!

The machine was down when Yami found it, but if he got it up and running, he could save Joey!

But to get the machine to work, he’d have to find the break room objects, he remembered they were key to getting the machine going, but they were gone when he went into the room.

The little Toon rushed off, trying to find the objects where he thought he saw a few. He was able to find five of them, all that was missing was the little doll, it had to be somewhere!

Yami searched high and low for the darn doll, it had to be here somewhere! He hoped it wasn’t behind the locked doors though…

Squeak

He perked up, hearing a soft sound, from the toy, somewhere down the hall!

Quietly, Yami snuck off on his tip toes, peaking around the corner into the room where the projector booth was, shocked by the sight inside.

In the room, by the projector, was a tiny, little Toon.

He was in an oversized, white button up shirt with short sleeves, his gloved hands looked a little too big for him. He wore black boots that fused with his black legs, no pants.

His hair was similar to Yami’s own, but droopy, and there was only a single, white bang sticking out in the middle of his forehead. What replaced the two side ones was leaking ink that seemed to drip down onto his large, off-modeled eyes.

Eyes that stared right at him in shock.

Even in the dim light of the activated projector, Yami was startled to see that they weren’t completely a solid black as was normal for the cartoons of this studio, there was color, purple to be exact. Well, at least in the left one, actually, the right one was a solid black.

In this strange Toon’s hands was the doll.

“HEY!” Yami exclaimed, pointing at the stranger. “Give me that! I need it!”

The Toon looked scared, shaking his head, before he shoved past Yami.

It was then that Yami noticed the little guy had a long tail and he was quick to grab it, getting a cartoony squeak, like a mouse, from the stranger. “I need that doll! I gotta save my friend!”

The Toon squeaked again, sounding more like a dying wheeze than the squeak of the toy. “You give it here or I’ll… I’ll use my pendant!” He pointed at the necklace he always wore.

The other stopped fighting, looking at the necklace in shock, before he handed over the doll, shaking the whole time. A soft wheeze came from him, through his teeth, much like Yami’s own.

Yami snatched it from him and frowned, looking at the stranger. “Who the heck are you? Did Seto make ya? Are you my replacement or somethin’? Cause you look like a knock-off or somethin’…”

The new Toon shuddered and nodded, making Yami sigh as he started to walk, still tightly clutching the other’s tail. “Can’t believe that jerk replaced me! Well… I did run off, but still! Coulda gave the spotlight to Joey, or Lady!”

He ranted as he got back to the break room, where the other objects sat on their podiums already. He put the doll on its before he approached the switch for the pump.

The copy let out what sounded like a broken whistle sound, grabbing at Yami’s jacket, trying to tug him away from it. “Hey! Let me go! I gotta do this, you already pushed the flow button, so this is ready to go!” Yami shouted as he yanked down the switch.

The other just stared in shock as his ink started to run, showing his fear. He stumbled back, falling with a small splat. Yami rolled his eyes and walked with him, dragging the panicking Toon with him back to Joey, only to stare in shock at the fact that ink was just spewing from his open chest instead of mending him!

“Oh no, is the machine…?!” He had to go back and check, even though the other Toon was still trying to stop him, his ink running more, covering his right eye as he kept making broken, cartoon noises in his protests. Guess the little brat can’t talk.

Yami was surprised to find that the Ink Machine had been blocked off by boards, but he discovered the reason for this when something appeared before them.

It was a monster of sorts, wearing Yami’s smile and necklace, slashing at them.

A loud train whistle escaped the little Toon as he scurried off, not caring that Yami had a death grip on his tail, pulling him along like something out of an animated short. They headed for the exit, so close, but…

The floor gave out, and all they saw was black.

–

Meet U-2! Yami’s new companion who is a terrible copy of him!

(Aka, it’s Yugi, forced into the body of Yami, but so off-model that he’s basically season zero!Yugi. He can’t speak at all, and he only remembers some aspects of his life, he knows who he is… sorta, just not everything. But he remembers Yami. His purple eye is how he remembers some of his life as Yugi, but if it gets covered in ink, he doesn’t remember anything about Yugi and just remembers things from when he became a Toon)

Inspired by the Bendy and Buddy au by upperstories (one of my favorite aus), my own ideas way before I found that au and only knew what the reverse au was because of one text post, but I also have elements of stuff from other versions of Henry and the Ink Machine au thrown in. (but I don’t know who is behind those ones, sadly, there are so many awesome people who do things for these aus)

I don’t think this will be a big au, but I might draw something of U-2 later.

#yugioh #yami yugi #yugi mutou #yami and the ink machine #john's drabbles #cosmopoeicpower

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promptistrashqueen · 7 years

Text

A Royal Commission (6)

This fic references irl shit too, so imagine hollywood/pop culture still exists in Eos?

I started this late today and you guys sent me asks like “Please more” as if I could ever not write more of this… as if my love for @fleetstreetfatality would let me. Also she’s not feeling well so please, bury her in love <3

Loqi’s voice breaks Prompto’s concentration as he finishes touching up some tiny leaves on a young woman’s tattoo, luckily he’s used to it so nothing happens, but it’s still annoying.

“Hey, you’re big client’s back.”

Prompto huffs a sigh, because these days it seems like everyone wants him to work on large pieces so that means nothing to him. He tosses a thumbs up over his shoulder and goes back to finishing up his work, trying not to be too impatient for the store to close.

When he’s done he reminds her how to care for the work and hands her a card in case she needs anything as well as a sheet about touch ups and other things she needs to know. She’s nice enough but Prompto really doesn’t even remember her name and he’s grateful when she doesn’t try to flirt with him or anything, it’s been happening a lot.

When he’s alone again Loqi sticks his head back in, “Seriously, I’m sending them back, the lobby’s getting crowded with people gawking and he looks like a twat out there, surrounded by them.”

Prompto blinks and then he feels his breath rush out of him because oh. That big client. Damn Loqi for not just saying it was Noctis and letting the Prince be harassed instead.

“Seriously? Next time just send him back right away...big client...he’s Noctis ya ass!”

Loqi rolls his eyes but doesn’t leave just yet, leaning against the opening and toying with the curtain that’s still mostly pulled shut.

“He can’t already be back for more after yesterday...Prompto, you’re not, seeing this dude are you?”

Prompto sighs and puts on his best “fuck-you” smile, “Does it matter? You and I ended a while ago and I am an adult.”

Loqi flips him off, “You know why I asked, the Lucian Prince? If he ever finds out where you come from, do you think he’ll want anything to do with you then? It would ruin you, us, everything.”

He doesn’t wait for Prompto’s reply before shoving away and calling back, “I’ll send him.”

Taking deep breaths, Prompto grips the edge of his drafting table hard. He hates to admit the truth in Loqi’s words and curses himself again for letting himself hope, for agreeing to the lunch dates and dinner with Noctis. He squeezes his eyes closed and sighs, “fuck”

“Fuck what? Man, you alright?”

He shoots up and turns, plastering on a smile that does turn more genuine when he see’s Noctis. He can’t help it, the Prince just makes him feel good.

“Yeah, just been a long day, you know?”

Noctis nods and his expression says that he knows all about long days, “Yeah….you like Italian?”

Leave it to Noctis to skip the platitudes. Prompto appreciates his ability to leave things alone though, especially now.

“Love it. As long as I can get something with white sauce? Stomach’s a little bitch otherwise.”

Noctis’ lips quirk at the corner and he nods, “Isn’t white sauce a normal Italian thing? If not, Ignis has been feeding me something weird my whole life?”

Prompto slaps his shoulder, because he knows that tone of voice, that “duh they have it” one that makes him bite back a smile.

“Sasshole.”

“You like it.”

True. He’s so screwed. Prompto looks around his space and decided, screw it, it’s picked up enough he doesn’t have to be methodical every night as long as the hazardous stuff is taken care of.

“The other’s can close tonight, I’ve got a date with noodles….and you I guess.”

He smiles and holds out a hand, Noctis’ expression softens and he takes it, lacing their fingers together and bumping shoulders with Prompto as the artist leads him out.

He cringes a little, the entry is still full of people and they all immediately turn their attention to both Noctis and himself and he curses Maddy again. It only takes a split second before someone gasps, “Ohmygod are they holding hands?”

Fortunately there seem to be some pretty alright people in the crowd because someone replies, “You don’t hold hands with your artist? What kind of trust is that?”

The first camera shutter is followed by a lot of hand waving from a few people and Prompto realizes, grateful, they’re trying to block opportunities to take photos. Noctis pushes him a little and he navigates the cram of bodies to the door, yelling loudly back to Charlie and Loqi, “Good luck! See you tomorrow!”

He vaguely hears Charlie laughing and swearing from Loqi that makes him hope none of the crowd were easily offended.

They’re free and the evening is pretty, the city lights creating the usual halo as they reach for the wall. Prompto finds himself pausing to look at the distant hazy barrier, only slightly visible, it reminds him of how much he doesn’t belong here, with a Prince. Noctis’ fingers tighten around his and he tears his gaze away, offering a reassuring dip of his head to the Prince’s concerned expression.

He’s learning quickly, Noctis isn’t great with words, but that suits Prompto fine. He’s a chatterbox most the time but he’s never been good with deep stuff really. He squeezes Noctis’ hand in thanks and watches the way his shoulders relax.

“The Italian soda’s at Giacamo’s are choice. You have to get one.”

Prompto almost stops again, eyes widening. After Mama Claire’s he’d assumed Noctis would be taking him someplace similar, blue collar and relaxed, where he would fit in.

“Giacamo’s is black tie!”

Noctis shrugs, giving him a look, “I’m the Prince. Rules don’t apply on this one.”

Prompto gawks at him as they come to a stop next to a car, “Okay, but dude! I’m a pleb and a tattoo artist, they’ll probably assume I’m trying to rob them!”

Noctis opens the car door, “Oh no, a robber, I guess you’ll get sent to trial and spend the next ten to fifteen years in jail. If only you knew a charming Prince to help you!”

Prompto just sticks his tongue out. He makes a small surprised noise when Noctis ducks down quickly and swallows the appendage, pressing their lips together and letting his own tongue drag over Prompto’s, playing with the stud in it.

Prompto’s eyes slip closed and he melts a little, fuck Noctis is a good kisser. He leans into the touches, pulling back just enough to tug Noctis’ lower lip and tilt his head before kissing him again.

Noctis steps back, Prompto leaning forward in an instinctual chase, “You keep kissing me like that, we’re going to miss dinner.”

Noctis seems surprised at himself as the words come, like they were a thought that’s escape, it’s a feeling Prompto understands because he can’t seem to stop himself from answering, “Maybe I’m not so hungry.”

They stare at each other and Noctis takes a step forward, like he’s going to give in. Before he can reach him though Prompto actually sees the car he’s sitting in.

“Holy Shit!”

“What?” Noctis’ face pinches and the heat turns to confusion and it’s really pretty cute but Prompto’s too busy being blown away for that.

“Am I touching...did you put me in a fucking Aston Martin?”

Noctis blinks and then he starts to laugh, despite the way Prompto is frowning at him with large, shocked eyes.

“Dude, Prince remember? I don’t like it either, but I mentioned a date and Gladiolus refused to give me the keys to anything else!”

Prompto just nods, “Uh-huh, blame him. You just wanted to give me heart attack. The car, Giacamo’s? What’s next, a diamond necklace?”

Noctis looks sudden sheepish and shifts a little, rubbing the back of his neck, “Er-actually….”

Prompto’s face is trying to do things he’s not familiar with and he opens his mouth but can’t find the words. Fortunately Noctis starts to laugh again, shoulders shaking, “No! But you should’ve seen the face you just made!”

Prompto briefly wonders what the penalty for strangling a member of the royal family is, but Noctis’ bright eyed laughter is too infectious for him to stay upset and he laughs along until Noctis is buckled in beside him, pulling smoothly into traffic.

The restaurant looks exactly like the photos of it and Prompto swallows the nerves he feels as he looks at the building, but Noctis is calm beside him as they pull up. He gets out and has a word with the valet, the fucking valet. Prompto tells himself it’s either get out with Noct or have a really bizarre drive with a valet and opens his door.

He can’t afford this, is the next thing he thinks that’s not just whoa. They’ve been greeted without any question to their dress, and seated in a private booth without having to see more than a glimpse of the elegant people dining in other parts of the business. Prompto’s pretty sure the waiter-or maitre’d or whatever has shoes worth more than his entire life, except the shop of course.

“Uh, I’ll get the uh..is there any way to get just water and a leaf of lettuce because that still might break the bank here.”

Noctis glares at him over the top of the menu Prompto is using to try and hide his embarrassment over not being able to pay.

“Yes, I choose an insanely expensive restaurant so you could pay. Who do you think I am, a Kardashian?”

Prompto snorts at that but his anxiety eases some, “Fine. You keep spending money on me and I’m going to feel terrible charging for your tattoo.”

Noctis shrugs, “I model it for your little pleb shop and we call it even?”

“Aaaand I’ve changed my mind. Double charged.”

They lapse into silence as Prompto looks over the menu, trying not to cringe a little. Not that the prices are even listed, that’s how he knew. “So, uh, how did you end up doing it? The shop and everything?”

Settling on what he wants, and firmly not thinking about the cost, Prompto sets the menus down, fiddling with his bracelets thoughtfully.

“I...I guess I didn’t really fall into it, but that’s what it feels like? I got really into photography when I was younger, my early memories are pretty vague and I guess I wanted to create new ones I wouldn’t forget so easy? I dunno dude, I just eventually started drawing from my photos and after a field trip to see some surrealist art at school...I fell in love? Putting it on my skin seemed like the next step, holding on to memories you know, and they saw my sketches and we started talking and before I knew it I had my own gun. Charlie and Loqi and I were all shop mice around the same time and when old Lima retired we decided to start our own place. So I guess, I never found anything else to do?”

Noctis listens carefully and Prompto hopes he doesn’t pick up on the small lie, because he remembers his childhood with a clarity he wishes on no one.

“That’s...really cool.”

Prompto grins at him, “Yeah, not as cool as being a Prince or whatever but..eh.”

Noctis rolls his eyes but his smile falls a little, “Sure. At least you got to choose.”

They both get quiet, but then Prompto bumps Noctis’ foot with his own and reaches to take his hand, offering him support.

“Oh! There’s a new arcade bar that opened like, two blocks from my house and…”

They fall into a conversation about games and drinking as their food comes and before either of them are really aware of it their sitting, full as they could manage on good food and sucking on after dinner mints.

Prompto’s relaxed and it’s nice and probably pretty good because he didn’t even try to look at the bill..he really doesn’t want to know and Noctis didn’t even blink.

They stand and Noctis takes his hand again, going back the way they came with a togo bag hanging from his free wrist.

The valet is already waiting for them and Prompto tries to look cool as he gets back into the ridiculously expensive car after a meal at a ridiculously expensive restaurant where he was exempted from the dress code.

Noctis laughs, he must be making a face, and leans across the center to kiss his cheek.

“I’ll take you home, give me your address.”

Prompto shakes his head, “Not after that you won’t. Can’t have you seeing my shack. Besides I’ve got to walk off some of the noodles. The shop is fine.”

Noctis huffs at him but shrugs, “Alright, but by the fourth date I expect to be able to drive you home.”

“Four? My glass of wine wasn’t aired long enough and you’re expecting two more dates?”

He’s flicked for that one and chuckles a little to himself before closing his eyes contently, enjoying Noctis’ presence as he drives him back.

When he opens them again Noctis’ seat is empty and he turns his head to find the Prince leaning into his space through his open door.

“Sleepy?”

“Mmmm” Prompto feels like he’s not fallen asleep but he must have. Noctis’ eyes are soft and the curve of his lips gentle as he leans in, pressing their foreheads together and cupping Prompto’s cheek.

He kisses him slowly, their lips just touching as he breaths in and then slowly moulding together as Noctis uses his hand to tilt Prompto’s chin. It’s one of the best kisse Prompto thinks he’s ever had, all warmth and affection and the promise of another meeting.

Noctis slowly pulls away, hand lingering on Prompto’s cheek as he does before he allows Prompto to get out of the car.

“See you soon blondie.”

Prompto smiles at that, “You too charmless.”

#Part 6 #I uh #they keep eating together i dunno #Promptis #FFXV #FFXV Fanfiction #A royal commission #Prompto #Noctis #cute boys #Italian food #goofs #kisses #fleetstreetfatality

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