#didn’t have enough bananas for more which is a shame

[luvxiem]

##TELEPHONE GAME 📞

##PART ONE

luca kaneshiro x gn!reader, college au, all humans au, idiots to lovers slowburn, fluff, humor, angst

word count: 2.4k

series masterlist

next part

you’re fucked. you’re so fucked. at this point you would’ve preferred the ground to just swallow you whole so that you wouldn’t have to face the utter humiliation of coming into class twenty minutes late and feeling the judgmental stares of all your peers burning into your back as you make the walk of shame to one of the few remaining seats in the hall.

of course, that hasn’t happened yet, but you can see it clearly in your mind.

frantically throwing on a hoodie, you slip out of your dorm with a quick goodbye to your roommate while scarfing down a banana as quickly as you could. it’s a wonder how you didn’t choke while running down multiple flights of stairs since the elevators were broken. again.

you made a mad dash across campus and through the halls—bumping into more than a few disgruntled shoulders—before skidding to a halt in front of a pair of double doors. and of course, they were closed. because the universe just loves to fuck with you.

with a grimace, you push one of the doors open—the sound of the metal bar and the creak of its worn hinges seems to echo throughout the room and you hear your professor pause in the middle of her sentence from the disruption. she raises an eyebrow at you and you flush.

“glad to see you finally join us,” she calls, a few snickers coming from the crowd of students watching you try and fail to merge into the wall. you catch more than a couple glances of sympathy.

“sorry,” you murmur, ducking your head in a makeshift bow. heat radiates from your cheeks as you scan the rows for an empty desk, tucking your bag to your chest as you walk over extended legs before you’re finally seated a bit toward the back of the hall. your professor continues her lecture undisturbed, clicking through a powerpoint containing information that you’re 90% sure will be on your midterm. quickly taking out your laptop, you sit back in your seat while waiting for it to boot up and sneak glances on either side of you.

to your left is some asian girl you vaguely remember seeing on a friend’s instagram story a while ago, and to your right is a tall blonde dude with a side ponytail. who’s currently watching spy x family on his laptop. neither of them seem to notice your staring which is a plus, so you lean forward and open your notes app to try and write down the multiple bullet points that appeared to be flying by before you could even finish reading them. the words of your professor seem to go in one ear and out the other, and soon enough you’re feeling the telltale signs of frustration creeping in the back of your mind. shutting your eyes with a huff, you rub them with the sleeves of your hoodie before deciding that since you obviously weren’t going to be productive today, you’ll just sit back and zone out for the rest of the lesson. besides, your best friend uki has this class tomorrow morning and he’ll give you his notes with a little bit of bribery.

your gaze inevitably drifts off to your right and ultimately lands on the blonde’s laptop which is still playing spy x family. thankfully, the dude is watching with captions which makes it much easier for you to keep up with the story. you haven’t seen this episode yet (since when was there a dog?) which is always a plus, although you’ll have to check when you get back to your dorm to make sure you didn’t skip any.

blondie seems to notice you watching along with him and subtly angles his laptop in your direction. blushing from getting caught, you chance a glance up at him and jolt a bit when your gazes meet. striking violet eyes stare back at you and he offers a boyish grin before turning his attention back to his screen.

the rest of the lesson continues without any fanfare and soon enough you’re packing your laptop into your bag alongside your peers. a buzz comes from your pocket which shows a notification from uki saying that he’s already at the campus cafe along with shu, the final member of your little trio.

a tap on your shoulder stops you from leaving, however, and when you turn on your heel you come face to face with the blonde stranger once again. he gestures to your bag with his hand, which you now notice was concealed in dark leather gloves.

“were you able to get the, the uh, notes?”

you blink.

ah. he must’ve noticed your rather pathetic attempt at paying attention today.

adjusting the strap on your shoulder, you shrug. “no, but it’s fine, i can just get the notes from somebody else.” that seems to spark something him as he replies quickly.

“if you need them, i can ask my friend. i didn’t get the notes either but his are usually, uh, usually pretty good.” his eagerness to help doesn’t get lost on you, but asking a stranger to ask his friend for notes that you could just ask uki for felt a little uncomfortable.

offering what you hoped was an appreciative smile, you reply, “it’s fine, my best friend has this class tomorrow and i was planning on asking him for them. thank you though.” he seems to accept your answer and nods. the blonde waves at you with a grin before shoving his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and walking off, taking two steps at a time down the stairs before slipping out the door and disappearing from view.

this happens again your next class. and the next. and the next.

every session since then without fail, you find yourself seated next to this tall blonde man who adjusts his laptop so that you can watch anime with him instead of paying attention to your professor and her powerpoints. uki’s been getting annoyed at your constant requests for his notes and your wallet is suffering from all the iced coffees you’ve been buying him as compensation.

despite this odd sort of friendship (or perhaps it was more of a mutual understanding of suffering) you’ve never gotten the guy's name, and at this point, you’re too embarrassed to ask.

luckily for you, you don’t have to.

a month passes since you embarrassed yourself in front of your peers and as soon as you enter the class, you immediately spot the big, bolded letters being projected to the front of the hall.

you’re being assigned a group project.

suppressing a shudder, you make your way up the stairs and plop down into what you’ve claimed as your seat, pulling your laptop out of your bag as you greet your anime buddy with a smile. violet eyes glance over you briefly before he returns your greeting with a grin of his own.

as the last few students come stumbling into the hall, your professor clears her throat before detailing what the project was about and her expectations for it. you jot down the specifics on your laptop, fingers tapping away at the keyboard as she speaks.

the goal of the project was to research the misconceptions and romanticization of love in modern media and to present on our findings as well as the repercussions of it on today’s youth. easy enough, you suppose, although you wonder why this was meant to be a group project as you could surely do the work on your own. your thoughts get interrupted as your professor continues stating the parameters of the assignment.

“in addition to the research and presentation, you and your partner must provide a personal anecdote on how you experience love with the people around you. i understand that this is a private matter, however for the purpose of this class i wish for you all to provide as much information as you are comfortable giving. the goal of this project is to force you to reflect on how you treat your loved ones and how this affects yourself as an individual. your partner for this project will be assigned by me as this is meant to push you out of your comfort zone.” a multitude of groans are heard in response, although your professor could clearly care less as she reaches behind her to grab the list of partners from her desk. name after name is called out and you fiddle with your laptop charger until she calls your own, as well as who you’re stuck with for the next three months.

“your partner will be luca kaneshiro.” she announces before immediately moving on to the next pair.

you start racking through your mind to try and figure out who this luca is before you feel a nudge against your arm and someone saying your name. turning to your right, you’re met with a bright expression.

“pog! can’t believe we got put together,” the blonde says, who you now realize must’ve been your partner. which also means this must be luca.

“yeah,” you smile weakly, thankful that at least now you don’t have to embarrass yourself by asking your (maybe?) friend for the past month what his name was. you decidedly choose to keep quiet about how he knew your name despite never introducing yourself.

“how did you wanna do this?” luca asks, tilting his head to the side slightly. somehow, he reminds you of a big golden retriever.

“h-huh?” you stutter.

“the project? do you have um. discord? so we can talk about it outside of class.” he explains.

“oh, uh, yeah i do. one second.” pawing your phone out of your pocket, you open the app and hand it off to luca so that he can send himself a request. the blonde opens his own phone and accepts it, sending you that default gif of wumpus waving hello. you send one back. distantly, you notice his profile picture is an image of pompompurin.

another "pog!" comes from your partner and you can't help but wonder if he uses any other twitch slang in his day to day life. it doesn't seem to be ironic either, at least, at the moment it doesn't.

later when you glide out of the classroom and sit down across from shu in your usual spot at the campus cafe, you realize that you have no idea how you're supposed to do this project. luca, although quite friendly, isn't the most approachable guy with his tall stature and broad shoulders, and a nonsensical part of your mind panics at the mental image of the blonde as a tall mafia boss looming over your beat-up body with a crazed smile. you shake your head to rid yourself of the thought.

"you good?"

shu has his laptop open on the table, staring at you with one eyebrow raised as he takes a long sip from his water. the computer science major already ordered you an iced vanilla latte and a bagel (thank god) and you quickly nod before reaching for a plastic knife.

"yeah," you reply, gathering a rather sizable amount of cream cheese. "just worried about my, uh, my groupmate."

"ahh." shu nods knowingly. "are they one of those freeloading people?" you shrug.

"not sure. haven't worked with him before. but he's a little intimidating," you admit, taking a bite of your bagel.

"are we shit talking?" looking up, you realize your missing friend has finally arrived.

uki plops down across from you, dropping his bag onto the floor with a loud thump. he reaches over and ruffles shu's hair, much to the other's dismay as he tries valiantly to brush it back into place.

"no. can i borrow your notes for tomorrow?"

"i want an iced americano," uki counters, side eyeing you.

you roll your eyes. "fine." sadly abandoning your bagel on a napkin, you stand up to go order his coffee. when you return to your friends, you set down the cup in front of uki and he takes a sip with a pleased smile on his face as you sit back in your chair. setting the drink down, he looks at you from across the table.

"okay but, who were we talking about? do we like them?" he asks. again, you shrug.

"his name's luca, he's in my morals class and we're partners for a project. you'll get assigned it tomorrow and we don't choose our partners." shu's eyes widen for a moment.

"oh, i didn't know luca was taking that." you turn to him in surprise.

"you know him?" he nods.

"we actually went to the same elementary school and our parents were friends before we moved," shu explains. "if i remember correctly, he's pretty nice. he always played tag with me during recess."

"aww, i just imagined little shu running around," uki teases fondly. shu chuckles.

"yeah, we used to be pretty close. we reconnected when we realized we both had calculus together. he's a lot taller than i expected."

"that's what i mean," you groan, cutting him off. "he's like, really tall and kinda buff. it's intimidating." you drop your head into your hands as shu pats you on the back with a sympathetic look.

"it'll be fine," he reassures. "really, he's just like a big puppy. a golden retriever. and i'm sure he'll pull his weight so you won't end up doing everything like last time with that one guy."

"i can ask around and see if he's like, weird or something," uki offers. you shake your head, dropping your arms back onto the table as you lean back in your chair and stare at the ceiling.

"no, it's fine. i'll trust shu. just, hoping for the best, i guess," you sigh.

taking out your phone, you open discord and stare at your messages with luca. wumpus continues to wave as if he was taunting you.

it'll be fine, you think. we'll get this project done without any issues and who knows? maybe i'll have another friend after all this is over.

##TAGLIST

if you would like to be added to the taglist, please send an ask, do NOT reply under this post

@error9272 @iruc

#luvxiem.writing #series.telephonegame #luca kaneshiro x reader #luca kaneshiro fluff #luxiem x reader #luxiem fluff #nijisanji en x reader #nijisanji en fluff #luca.txt #whooooo part 1 bby #morals class is real my friend takes it with a bunch of business bros LOL

[jonathanterranovawrites]

Charles Bukowski. Why the hate?

I get rather upset when I see Bukowski lambasted online, largely by people who haven’t read him or at a stretch have read Post Office which is by far his worst novel. He wrote it in forty days to be fair so we forgive you Hank

Why do I get upset? Well in my teens as a male coping with the dominant chemical intoxication of testosterone he comforted me. I didn’t understand sex as a young male. Mr Allston put a condom on a banana  and taught us how to fuck but really it wasn’t this that intrigued me thus. It was walking past the girl I liked in the webster block aged 14 and feeling like I was being consumed by terror.

Bukowski helped me to recognise the naturalism of puberty and the despair of not getting what you wanted. The same obviously applies to John Fante who weirdly performed a ritual that I used to do too. After he masturbated over photos of women in magazines he’d wash them in his sink; in a sense this was to wash his sins away but also because his parents were catholic and sexuality in adolescence is often shameful. This has been explored by the artist Egon Schiele though I must confess I don’t know much else about him.

What was also helpful for me about Bukowski was his selfless attitude, and that he didn’t dress up his evolutionary instinct to want to fuck. He didn’t seduce people with lines from Keats, he simply suffered. And it was through suffering that he found meaning and very often women who weren’t particularly good for him, yet they were women who influenced his writing and that’s his legacy.

I remember the first time I read him and I was fortunate enough to have an older brother who filtered his work so he gave me a copy of Ham on Rye, and he said, yeah Jonathan!!! Cobain loved this one. At the time I was addicted to muddy banks of the wiskah and I wished Kurt Cobain was my friend so receiving a novel he’d read was serdendipity or some other obscure word.

I read it alongside Kerouac’s on the road on the plane to California and I was mesmerised. There is another teenager in the world who fantasises about middle aged womens legs? He got me.

Zola vs Hemingway in the ring. That is Bukowski. Bullet sentences. Love, longing and passion fired into ink and dissolved by my brain.

Regarding him as a misogynist. I do believe he slapped an ex partner. Having read two biographies on him this is the deepest shit I could find on him as a person. I do think we need to try harder to destroy his legacy in which he has made sad young men a tad happier by approaching puberty, adolescence and the great depression with such  bold prose

If you don’t like him well you can fuck off.

For the unconverted I would recommend his later poems not his young ones. When he was young it was women and horses. Poems in his later life were more profound and he found his form.

Pleasures of the damned is arguably his greatest hits. Last night of the earth poems is probably the book that moved me the most. Ham on Rye my favourite novel. Hopefully yours too. Though as a 33 year old bloke I probably wouldn’t like it as much as I did as a teenager.

[my-soliloquy-chamber]

I managed to set of the smoke detector while making dinner, so I had to throw open all the windows and flee out to the balcony to escape the smell while I ate. Then I almost got heatstroke because I literally haven’t seen the sun for two years I don’t know how to act in her presence anymore. (Jeans and long sleeves are not right. More testing needed.) Then I remembered I had a package delivery on the way and started worrying that the delivery guy would smell the burning and see my bright red face (from heat, sun, and shame) and think something negative about me. Which almost spiked my anxiety high enough to be a problem. When I anxiously worry, I pace, so I paced into the kitchen where I found the banana bread I had been trying to prepare alongside dinner (which is how the smoke alarm went off in the first place). I finished prepping it and put it into the oven right as my phone trills to tell me that the package is now outside my door because I’d forgotten that it’s a contactless delivery so there was no reason to be anxious about the delivery guy. (Like there otherwise would have been.) Then my cat comes charging through the house like a maniac, which startles me enough to pull a muscle in my back. (Oh all the windows are closed again now don’t worry, no kitty skydiving.) I can’t stand around moaning about the pain though because I’m hearing a loud buzzing sound. There’s a HUGE bee 🐝 in my living room, which is why my cat is going crazy. She’s a really good hunter so I know she will catch it and eat it, but I REALLY don’t want to squeeze in a trip to the vet tonight, so I callously lock my huntress in the bedroom while I herd the bee outside. Now my head hurts because all of this took place during less than AN HOUR and it’s all just too much. I go to lay down but on the way to the couch I sneeze 🤧 which wrenches at my back and it hurts. (Welcome to adulthood. It’s all about the ibuprofen. Seriously.) I go to the kitchen to wash down a painkiller and oh look, the oven is on because I’m making banana bread. Right. I remembered that. But did I remember to set the timer? No. Is it burning? No! 🥳 The stick comes out clean! And it smells good!

So, now I’m laying on my couch with my bored but not-bee-stung cat, waiting for the painkiller to kick in and the banana bread to cool enough to try a piece. I didn’t really follow the recipe so it might taste awful, even if it looks and smells nice.

Anyway, having ADHD is wild and also exhausting and I need a nap.

#too tired for tags

[44-docx]

15/04/24

I had a rough past few days. Two days ago I had one of the worst panic attacks of my life. Thank god my partner was there to help me. They held me and when I saw the look on their face I wouldn’t let myself dissociate. It hurt almost , in the weirdest way, and was so hard but I was able to. And so I didn’t record my food that day or the day after, but I felt okay about the food I ate. Today I feel as though I ate more than I should have and am having shame I dislike the feeling of but I’m reconciling with having put it in my mouth to begin with so I’m sitting with this feeling lol.

Breakfast 8:00

I had all of this. I was kinda nauseous halfway through then it dissipated and I finished. I got hungry an hour after and had this snack. I was studying and needed a pick me up, hence the red bull. I usually try to avoid caffeine but I’ve been TIRED all day :).

Lunch: 12:00

For lunch I had chicken and egg on rice. I added hot sauce and honey. I had that soup and picked out two dumplings and thre the rest out. Then I picked up this little bit my cafeteria was serving. I didn’t like the potato it had because ew it was soggy asf, so I just ate the smoked salmon instead. Didn’t really want it tbh but I ate it and regretted it in my mouth but I can’t spit it out in public like I would alone. Not gonna lie, spitting things out if I don’t like them is a new development that kinda keeps me true to eating only what I like and want. I don’t chew and spit, not something I have ever done! But having the ability to respect myself enough not to swallow something I hate is part of me trying to regulate what I eat. I got cereal for desert, again. I saved this muffin and picked at it for like 2 hrs as I tend to do while I work , it’s a bad habit because I feel like sugar helps me focus…. More on that at 3:30 lol. (Also I did not eat that banana)

3:30 “snack”

So I had this snack which I feel like was rather large. I had a handful of cashews, maybe more, a few bites of yogurt and an orange with a coffee with oat milk. That caffeine kicked me into being able to work again because I was honestly dissociating and was able to get a hold of it again! I’m getting really good at that and am really proud of myself. I started work and got a reasonable amount done and then I noticed my blood sugar dipping again. I am noticing that when my blood sugar feels low I feel out of breath and get super bad brain fog and am not able to work! (Big surprise wow I know) but as somebody who would force myself through work after barely eating I’m noticing just how productive I am when I actually eat - especially when I have sugar. So I got a slushes and oh my did that kick me into high gear lol.

Dinner: 8:00

I had this chicken burger and peeled off the extra bun parts because why do I need that much bread for such wimpy patties??? Like buy smaller buns if you’re gonna be that cheap? Anyways enough beef with my cafeteria. I had half the fries and a load of ranch and hot sauce with honey. It started to freak me out actually having the sauce about halfway through eating it, and then I was like okay let’s just see if we finished it. And then I did . And I’m trying to be neutral about that. I almost wanted more food but then I realized I didn’t want it I just wanted it because it was available and I would freak out if I ate more because I was already full and I should stop. Having unlimited food is really hard as someone who has binges, uncontrollable eating spells where I feel out of control regardless of how much I eat it feels compulsive because I’ve restricted for so long. Trying to recover with a cafeteria is hard lol. But… I stopped myself. I had cereal, I also got a little carrot cake but I realized I didn’t want it so I just ate the cereal. Actually eating the cereal did make me feel like I was pushing myself and made me consider P, but I did not. I’m fine and I’m full and that’s okay. It just feels like sooooo much food. Not being able to put anything back is also kinda ficked up to me because like , I will take something and have to throw it out, which I obviously don’t wanna do but I’ve grown comfortable doing as a part of my healing . Anyhow I’m looking at the carrot cake I smuggled out of there because I didn’t want it but wouldn’t throw out because I may want it later. I have an exam at 9 am so I expect I will be up late studying.

Taking photos of my food has been super freeing. I’m really happy that I started doing this. Throughout the day I have these thought about trying to calculate my food that I’ve had for years. Now being able to SEE what I eat is putting me at ease in a way I can’t quite explain. I feel a sense of freedom from it and I’m not trying to use it in a toxic way either which is nice that I don’t have that compulsion. I’m trying to focus on the fact that this food will fuel my brain for my exam tomorrow morning and and I’m trying to be happy for myself because I did a good job at studying today and avoiding dissociation - and regardless of my marks I think I’ve done a good job here preparing and that puts my anxiety at ease.

I’m on SLYND now which is a birth control. I’ve been taking it for two days now. It may cause weight gain but most people say it doesn’t which is a blessing omg. Keeping this food diary will help me make sure I’m not being adversely affected by the medication to eat more. And that gives me comfort because my last birth control I gained FORTY POUNDS. Omg I can’t even think about it it was so bad . Like with such bad body image it SUCKED. Really made my eating disorder worse for sure. But here I am trying to recover and mitigate the risks in a healthy way by monitoring my appetite and intake💪

Anyways, back to studying.

[knowingoverseer]

It’s… been about a week now, almost, since your flub in the woods. It… it could have gone worse, truly it could have, but you’ve been feeling very badly about it since. In part because you haven’t actually been able to walk right since that night. Whatever had caught your ankle caused you to sprain it, possibly break it though the town doctor didn’t have the means to properly know. It was bandaged up with a splint, and you were given a crutch to walk with, though you’ve stubbornly been hovering any time you need to go anywhere. It’s been making some of the townsfolk nervous, but you weren't going to walk on it and make it worse. 

Your other injuries were healing up fine. You’d been worried you messed up your elbow, but aside from bruising like a banana it appeared to be fine. You also didn’t appear to be concuss at all from having hit your head. Your eye however… The cut over your eye had been thankfully shallow, but long, and the doctor was ready to re-introduce you to the concept of ‘stitches’, that you had just about had a literal fit trying to protest. No one was getting near your face with a needle or so help you- Thankfully that was when your new ‘friend’ had chosen to step in. After making sure it had been disinfected, he used a spell that, after tracing the cut with his finger, seemed to close up on its own, though still left a scar. It had pissed you off at the time he hadn't just done that from the get go, but you guess you should be thankful. You probably should be more grateful to him over all. Yet, you couldn’t help but stay mad at him. Kalvin Huckleberry, an anthropomorphic cat who lived on the outskirts of the town, had followed you into the Bewitching Woods that night. It had been at his father’s request, the Inn owner who had helped you make the plan in the first place. But like? He could have made himself known, could have helped, sooner?? There was even a part of you that would have been fine with him having not helped you at all, because at least if you had respawned you wouldn’t be dealing with your damned ankle now. It had thrown him really off guard that you would be angry that he ‘saved your life’, and he’d been equally as pissy with you since you snapped at him on your way back. He had kept trying to carry you and after all that had happened that night you just weren't having it. He’d gotten really shaken when you told him he should have just left you alone to handle those wolves, your explication of your conditional immortality getting under his skin. Maybe he thought of you like the fey now, something you couldn’t exactly blame him for if he did. Or maybe like so many others, your lax nature about your own death was just plain unnerving. It was hard to say. Yet, despite this, he’s been an annoying thorn in your side ever since you both got back. It was likely just based on his father’s wishes, always checking up on you, preventing you from heading off into the forest with Buddy again until your leg healed, all the while acting like it was some big chore to keep tabs on you. You hated it. Sure it was nice someone wasn’t even trying to keep up the act that they were all smiles like the rest of the townsfolk but he was just- very infuriating. You didn’t ask for this, and you hated being seen as a chore, and that’s how you felt. Which is a shame. Because had you had more narrative energy, things might have turned out a little different. There’s the weirdest sense you were supposed to befriend this cat boy, yet… here you were. You don’t know, maybe you felt this way because he wouldn’t leave you well enough alone, maybe he was trying to be your friend, but. Yeah, you were showing him that wonderful side of you usually reserved for red cherubs and backstabbing robots, making friendship just about impossible. … Oh. No, no. That couldn’t… No, it definitely wasn’t, you’re pretty sure you’d have figured out if you were feeling that by now. Besides, you didn’t like cats. Moving on. This is all to say, of course, you’ve had a rather…. Unpleasant week. You haven’t made any headway into finding a way out of this god forsaken place, you haven’t checked in online out of humility and shame, and you felt like you were running out of time. The festival was just a few days away and you were only just starting to be able to hobble around on your leg, and you wanted to leave when it was over. You don’t think you’d even want to stay for the festival at this point if not for the fact you were healing, you just wanted to get back. Back to the resort, back to your friends, and god- Your friends. Serket’s last few messages online had been worrying to say the least and you hadn’t even reached out to her. You’re glad the others have been, and you hope their situations are going better than yours was. Again, not that yours was particularly the most dangerous, but you were having no luck on any leads to get out. You… should probably try and start socializing again soon. Hoo… At least Buddy had been mostly behaved while you’ve been, well not quite bedridden but certainly not as mobile as you normally are. He’s been a real champ through all this. He even seems to share your dislike of Kalvin. You think it might be the glowing yellow eyes. He’s also been a great help to you getting around, whether you like it or not. Just hovering around doesn’t give you much leverage for holding him back by the reins, after all. This is another reason why you’re having so much trouble getting any leads, besides getting blocked at any exit you are once again at the Porcuparrot’s mercy when it comes to day-to-day ventures. You’ve only been able to ask around about Mist Tokens to those whom Buddy deemed worth approaching, and usually those were towns folks with clearly visible snacks. Of which, only your own Innkeeper, Mr. Huckleberry seemed to know anything about. A flower crown given to the champion of the festival games, among other prizes, seemed to qualify, though… as a ‘Mist Token of Tepest’, which for some reason made you feel like it wouldn’t be of much help to you. Still, it really was the only lead you had, but you were in no shape to be winning games, so it may as well be no lead at all.

#It's Almost Time #((This week was draining and I missed my shot to develop this properly so I'm just writing to write at this point @w@;)) #((I had cool stuff planned but I just kinda fell on my face with all of this so.))

[superhousecat-once-again]

This time I remembered to check that we weren’t out of flour so I could make an actual loaf of banana bread as opposed to ‘sweet banana sludge that must go in the trash’

#didn’t have enough bananas for more which is a shame #but i no longer work produce at the pantry so am no lomger sent home with bags of mostly brown bananas #so this one is just chocolate since more people eat that than walnut #think i’m going to do either coffee cake or cookies on thursday since my little brother is going to college on sunday #gotta make him remember me fondly or something #brain thoughts

[waitimcomingtoo]

Red

Pairing: Arvin Russel x Reader

Warnings: fighting, swearing, southern dialect (not really a warning lol)

Masterlist

“Hey Arvin.” Leonora smiled as she climbed into her brothers car. “Sorry it took so long. I got my dress caught on a locker.”

“I don’t mind waiting, long as those hillbilly boys ain’t bothering you.” Arvin stated in his low southern drawl.

“They left me alone today thanks to Y/n.” Leonora sighed in content as she situated her bible on her lap.

“Y/n?” Arvin furrowed his eyebrows. “Who’s that?”

As if on cue, you opened the back door of Arvin’s car and got into the backseat.

“Hi.” You waved at the two of them with a cheerful smile. “Sorry I’m late.”

Arvin looked at you in the rear view mirror and cleared his throat, nervously taking off his baseball cap and smoothing his hair down before looking away. You had your hair in banana curls that came to your shoulders, the front pinned back to give a better view of your face. Your cherry red lips matched your skirt, which was a nice contrast to your bright white blouse. Arvin was taken aback by the girl in his backseat, feeling like you were much too pretty to be in his beat up old car. For the first time in his life, he cared about his appearance, fumbling nervously with the brim of his hat.

“There she is.” Leonora looked back at you. “This is my friend Y/n. She’s gonna come with me to visit momma today.”

“Nice to meet you. Awful nice of you to drive us. I don’t know anybody with a car.” You spoke with excitement, as if being in Arvin’s old car was a fancy excursion. He held eye contact with you in the mirror, nodded at you to acknowledge your greeting.

“Nice to meet you too. Name’s Arvin.” He tilted his hat to you. “You have somebody buried up there too?”

“Kinda. My dog is buried under the big oak tree in the back.” You explained. “It’s her birthday today.”

“We’re gonna say a prayer for Bessie and momma. We won’t be too long.” Leonora told him as he started the car.

“Bessie?” He wondered, looking to her for answers. The name ignited nostalgia in him for a song he had never told anyone about.

“That was my dogs name.” You said, a light flush appearing on his cheeks as you spoke directly to him.

“Nice name.” He commented, thinking of his dog Jack. “What breed?”

“Jack russel.” You answered, as if you read him mind.

“She likes Russel’s.” Leonora commented, causing you to jokingly slap her on the shoulder. Arvin’s jaw tightened as he looked at you in the mirror again, curious to know what his sister meant by that.

“Shut up. Least I’m not crushing on a preacher.” You playfully teased her.

“Just teasing.” She laughed as you pulled up to the church. “You can park here, Arvin. We don’t mind the walk.”

“Thanks for driving us, Arvin.” You smiled brightly at him. He finally turned to look at you, face softening when his eyes met yours.

“No trouble missus.” He nodded curtly at you, fighting the urge to break his permanent frown with a smile.

“See you later.” You waved goodbye to him as you left the car, linking your arm through Lenora’s once you were out. Despite your back being to him, he waved back, blowing out a nervous breath as he watched you leave. He wasn’t one to have his head turned by pretty girls, his grandmother worried if he even cared for girls at all, but something about you left a pink tint in his cheeks. He looked at his backseat where you had been, smiling a little at the thought of you. The smell of you flowery perfume lingered in his car, replacing his usual smell of cigarette smoke. It was a nice and welcomed change, one he wouldn’t mind getting used to.

Before long, Arvin heard a knock on his window. He looked up and saw you holding your book bag over your head with an apologetic look of your face. He quickly rolled the window down, blinking a few times in surprise.

“Hi. Leonora wudden done yet and it’s starting to rain. You mind if I wait in here?” You asked like it was a tall order, but he was more than happy to fulfill it. He hadn’t even realized it had begun to drizzle, too wrapped up in that thought of you to notice his surroundings.

“Go ‘head.” He nodded as he unlocked the door. “You don’t have to sit in the back if you don’t want . Front is just fine.”

“Thank you.” You smiled at him as you sat in the passenger seat, shaking the raindrops out of your hair once inside. You tossed your bag over the seat and let it sit in the back before rubbing your arms from the chill of the rain. Arvin wordlessly took of his jacket and laid it over your shoulders when he saw the goosebumps on your arms. You smiled gratefully at him and held the jacket tighter around you, taking in the smell of it.

“Thank you. Rain came out of nowhere.” You laughed breathlessly as you looked at him. Too shy to speak, he gave you a nod in response and looked out the window.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” You asked suddenly, making him look at you again. You had a coy smile on your face, a smile he was growing awfully fond of.

“Don’t got much to say.” He shrugged, just happy you were taking an interest in him.

“Shame.” You chuckled shyly as you looked down at your red fingernails. “I would’ve liked to hear whatever you had to say.”

Arvin’s jaw dropped a little at your statement, immediately coughing to cover up his shocked expression. It was the first time he had ever been flirted with and it showed. He rubbed his hand on his shirt to smooth it as he shook his head, unsuccessful in hiding how flustered you made him.

“You mind if I smoke in here?” He changed the subject before he could embarrass himself further.

“Go ahead. I like the smell.” You shrugged as he pulled out his lighter.

“You do?” He looked at you curiously with his cigarette between his teeth. Most people he knew hated the smell, but you were continuously proving you weren’t like most people he knew.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Reminds me of my daddy.”

“Me too.” He chuckled softly, finding himself on common ground with you once again. “You smoke?”

He held out his box to you to offer you a cigarette, making you bite your lip as you contemplated it.

“I never tried it before.” You spoke shyly, as if it was something to be embarrassed about.

“Here. I’ll give you a light.” Arvin smirked as he took a cigarette out of the box. You opened your mouth and held eye contact with you as he placed it between your lips, red lipstick staining the base. He lit his own cigarette before leaning forward and lighting yours with his own.

“It’s gonna burn at first, you might start coughing.” He warned you as you took a short puff.

“Whew.” You took it out of your mouth and coughed. “That’s something different.”

“You don’t have to finish it if you don’t like it.” He assured you as he took a long drag of his.

“Never said I didn’t like it.” You winked at him before taking another drag. Arvin looked away as he smiled, rubbing his tired eyes with his free hand.

“My grandmomma hates it when I smoke in here.” He began to open up to you. “Said it makes the seats smell like a factory.”

“Then I won’t tell her.” You drawled. “Secrets safe with me.”

Arvin found the confidence to move his arm to rest on the back of seat, almost close enough to be around you. You took the hint and scooted closer to him, excitement evident in your eyes. He smirked a little before he took his cigarette out of his mouth and blew the smoke in your face. You leaned into his cloud of smoke, holding his gaze as you inhaled. He leaned forward as well, planning to meet you in the middle until you heard the backdoor open.

“Hey guys.” Leonora bumbled as he got in the backseat. “Rain came out of nowhere, didn’t it?”

You and Arvin shared a disappointed look before your turned in your seat to look at Leonora.

“Hi, hun.” You greeted her kindly. “You all set?”

“Yeah. Thanks for coming with me.” She put her hand on your arm and squeezed it in appreciation.

“Anytime.” You told her, sneaking a glance at Arvin as he put his key in the ignition.

He kept quiet on the ride to your house after asking for your address, so you busted yourself by keeping light conversation with Leonora. You didn’t live too far from the church and found yourself in your drive way sooner than you’d like. You unbuckled your seat belt and collected your books, looking at Arvin wistfully before getting out.

“Thank you for driving me home, Arvin.” You thanked him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“A lady should never walk alone. Specially not in the rain.” He nodded curtly. “Here, I’ll walk you to the door.”

“Are you sure it’s no trouble?” You gazed at him innocently through your lashes. You wanted him to walk you to the door, you just didn’t want him to know that.

“No trouble at all, doll.” He assured you as he got out. You said goodbye to Leonora before Arvin opened your door and helped you out.

“If your grandmomma don’t like the smell, maybe we could smoke outside sometime.” You suggested as you took slow steps to your front door, coming up with any way you could think of to see him again.

“I got the feeling you didn’t like it all the much.” He chuckled as he fidgeted with his cap.

“I could learn to.” You said, almost sadly as you looked at him. You stopped once you got to your front door, silently sliding his jacket off your shoulders and giving it back to him.

“How about we do something else? Something you like to do.” He suggested as he accepted the jacket. Your lips curved into a smile when he showed the same interest in you as you had in him.

“I’m pretty boring, Arvin.” You shrugged shyly as you dug your toe in the dirt. “Alls I do is go to church and do schoolwork.”

“You ain’t bored me yet.” He smirked as he shoved his hands in his pockets. You bit your tongue between your teeth and giggled, timidly tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Arvin.” You held your hand out to him for him to shake. He took your hand and kissed your knuckles, never breaking eye contact.

“See you. You have a nice night now.”

You watched him the whole way back to his car, pressing a cold hand to your burning cheek to calm yourself down. Only once he and Leonora had pulled away did you go inside, leaning your back against the door and sighing once you did.

“How come I never seen you with her before?” Arvin asked his sister as he drove towards their house. He knew his sister didn’t have many friends, of any for the matter. And he definitely would’ve remembered seeing you before, considering the way you were stuck in his brain like an old song.

“We just met today. Chuck Greenwood was picking on me this morning but she stopped him. She told me she saw me at the graveyard every day and asked if she could tag alone to see her dog. She’s nice, isn’t she? My first friend.” Leonora smiled proudly as she brushed off her bible, never being one for making friends.

“She’s alright.” Arvin played down his feelings towards you. “How’d she stop Greenwood?”

“She asked him to take her to the drive in. I never seen a boy look so red.” Leonora bounced in excitement. “He forgot all about me and started following her around all day. Shame though, I heard him telling people he had his way with her behind the school busses.”

“That true?” Arvin clenched his jaw, feeling white hot jealousy corse through his veins.

“Course not. Shes not like that.” Leonora said, giving Arvin some peace of mind.

“Good.” He grumbled, turning the corner as his car rattled.

“She’s so pretty.” Leonora gushed. “She told me she could do my makeup for church this Sunday if I like. You think I should?”

“I don’t know. What does the Bible say about lipstick?” Arvin cracked one of his rare jokes.

“Nothing.” Leonora rolled her eyes. “She looks so pretty with it though. Reminds me of momma.”

“She did look pretty.” Arvin mumbled. “Nice color on her.”

“You like her, don’t you?” Leonora’s jaw dropped as her brother showed an emotion other than anger for the first time.

“You mind your own business now. Was just being nice.” Arvin stated as he looked at her in the mirror.

“You ain’t nice to nobody.” Leonora scoffed. “You like her.”

“Shut up.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell her nothing.” Leonora smiled in satisfaction.

“You better not. Now hush up before I make you walk home.” Arvin warned.

“Just saying.” Leonora added slyly. “I think she likes you too.”

Arvin looked at her in his mirror to see if she was serious, and she was. He grunted and adjusted his cap, hoping his sister wouldn’t see the smile on his face.

~

“Can you pass me the sugar?” You asked Leonora in her kitchen the following day.

“Here you go.” She handed you the bag. “Thank you for helping me and grandmomma. I don’t know what she was thinking trying to make all this food on her own.”

“I’m happy to help.” You shrugged as you measured the sugar in a cup. “I love cooking. Makes the whole house smell good.”

“Well I appreciate it anyhow.” Leonora smiled at you as she poked your side.

“Something smells good.” Arvin announced as he entered the kitchen, stopping in his tracks when he saw you. “Hi, Y/n.”

“Hi Arvin. We’re making a pie for tonight. You wanna help us?” You turned to face him while resting the bowl of ingredients on your hip. You had an apron loosely tied around your waist and a streak of flour going across one cheek, looking as beautiful as ever.

“Not much of a baker.” He shrugged with a soft smile. “‘Less you like eggshells in your crust.”

“Could you set the table, then? 5 places, Y/n is staying.” Leonora asked him over his shoulder, missing the hopeful look on his face when she mentioned you staying.

“Hope you don’t mind.” You smiled apologetically at him while stirring the bowl with a large wooden spoon.

“Don’t mind at all.” He nodded, moving towards you to get the plates out of the cupboard behind you. “Pardon me.”

“Sorry bout that.” You stepped out of his way, shoulders brushing as you moved.

“No apology needed.” He shook his head as he collected the plates. “See you at dinner.”

You waved to him with your free hand as he left the kitchen and headed towards the table.

“He likes you, you know.” Leonora instigated once her brother was out of earshot.

“Don’t be silly. That boy dudden like anything in this town.” You chuckled, flustered at her implication. “We’re all just something for him to scowl at.”

“He does too.” She insisted. “I seen the honey glow on his cheeks when I mention your name. He thinks you’re pretty.”

“He said that?” You gasped, making Leonora laugh in delight.

“Uh huh.” She poked your side again. “Told me himself on the car ride home. You should’ve seen him, all red and blushin’. I bet he’ll put his plate next to you tonight.”

“If he does, I don’t want you making eyes at me all night.” You teased as you playfully bumped her out of your way with your hip.

“I won’t.” She said innocently as she picked up the basket of bread. “I’ll gonna bring this to the table. Maybe I’ll see your boyfriend while I’m there.”

You hit her on the butt with a dish towel for her comment, her laugh echoing through the house as she went to the table. You began to hum the tune of the Little Bessie song you knew from childhood as you poured the pie filling into the crust.

“My momma used to sing that song.” Arvin’s voice came from behind you, making you jump a little. “It was one of the last things I ever heard from her.”

He joined you at the counter and gave you a half smile, wordlessly holding the pie tin steady as you poured.

“I was awful sorry to hear about what happened to your family. Leonora told me, hope that’s all right.” You spoke softly as you looked at him with sympathetic eyes.

“S’all right.” He shrugged, signaling that he didn’t want to get into it. “She’s told me a thing or two bout you as well.”

“Like what?” You wondered as you took out the uncooked strips of pie crust.

“Like you telling Chuck Greenwood you’d let him take you to the drive in.” Arvin stated, a mixture of disappointment and anger hardening the boyish features of his face.

“She told you that?” You asked in disbelief as you laid the strips in a delicate pattern.

“Yes ma’am. She also told me he started a rumor that the two of you meet up behind the school busses everyday, doing God knows what, after school. That true?” He asked roughly. Leonora has already told him it was false, but he needed to hear it from you.

“No.” You laughed like it was absurd, popping the bubble of jealously that had formed in Arvin’s stomach since he first heard it. “He can say what he wants. Everyone knows he’s full of it.“

“Well if that’s how you feel, why are you going on a date with him?” Arvin gripped the counter and hunched over as he stared at you. You cracked a smile, seeing what Leonora meant by all the times she called him overprotective.

“Oh, Arvin.” You giggled, finishing the pie crust. “I’m not going.”

“But you said yes.” He stood you straight, his face twisted in confusion.

“I know. I said yes so when I don’t show up, it’ll hurt him like he hurt Leonora. Maybe then he’ll realize it’s not nice to mess with people.” You explained as you put the pie in the oven. Arvin was taken aback by your reasoning, standing there dumbstruck as you set a timer. He always thought it was his job and his job only to protect his sister, only to find out there was somebody else looking out for her too. The boundaries of his protection ended where the schoolyard started, and that had always been something that troubled him. Now that he knew he could count on you to keep an eye on her, he felt a weight taken off his shoulders.

“You let that candy ass talk about you like that to protect my sister?” He asked lowly as he took a step towards you. He brought his calloused thumb to your cheek and and wiped the flour from your face. Your breath hitched in your throat as you gazed into his dark and tired eyes.

“She’s my friend.” You stammered. “She’d do it for me.”

Arvin’s lips tweaked into a smile, approving of your answer. He dragged his thumb down your face, pulling your bottom lip down for a moment before it bounced back.

“If that Chuck Greenwood bothers you again, you tell me. All right, doll?” He murmured.

“Why? What are you gonna do about it?” You tilted your head and gave him a sultry smile.

“Kill him.” Arvin said simply, making your heart stop.

“I’m only kidding.” He followed up. “I’ll just set him straight, is all.”

“Thank you.” You said under your breath, too starstruck to speak at full volume.

“Speak up now, darling. Don’t mumble.” He commanded you. You cleared your throat and stood up straighter, hoping that would give the facade of confidence.

“I said thank you.” You repeated.

“No need to thank me. Any friend of my sisters is a friend of mine.” He tipped his hat to you and backed away, grabbing a dish towel to clean his hands.

“So you and I are friends now?” You asked, disappointment making a home in his heart now that he wasn’t in your personal space.

“Don’t have too many of em.” He shrugged. “One more cant hurt.”

He went to leave the kitchen so you quickly untied your apron and followed him.

“Since I’m not going to the drive in, I have nothing to do Friday night.” You began, sighing ostentatiously.

“Oh, yeah?” He smirked at you, taking the hint.

“Yeah.” You continued your charade of looking forlorn. “Leonora has bible study so I’ll be all alone.”

Arvin stopped in the hallway, taking your arm gently between his hand and turning to towards him.

“I could take you somewhere, if you’d like.” He offered as if he had just thought of it, but it had been weighing on his mind since your first encounter.

“I would like that very much.” You nodded, biting back a smile.

“Is it all right if I sit next to you tonight? Uncle Earskell chews pretty loud, it grosses me out.” He chuckled shyly as he scuffed his shoes on the floor.

“Sure.” You giggled, secretly thrilled that Leonora had been right. “I promise I don’t chew that loud.”

Arvin looked up and smiled softly at you, shrugging a little as he scratched his nose.

“I don’t supposed I’d mind all that much if you did.” He said quietly and you understood what he was implying.

“Speak up now, darling.” You repeated his own words. “Don’t mumble.”

Finally, you got a toothy smile out of the stolid boy. He grinned from ear to ear at you rendition of what he said before, feeling oddly proud that it had resonated with you. Before he could act on his feelings, Leonora appeared in the hallway.

“There you two are.” She sighed. “Pie is just about done. Y’all ready to eat?”

You and Arvin nodded repeatedly, both hoping she hadn’t seen anything before she interrupted it. You followed her to the dinning table, blushing when you felt Arvin’s hand on your back to guide you.

~

Friday night, right on time, Arvin pulled up to your house. He didn’t strike you as the kind to be punctual, in fact, he normally wasn’t. He just knew his reputation proceeded him and he didn’t want you thinking he didn’t care. He did care, very much in fact. He cared so much that when he saw you coming out of your house in high waisted shorts and a strapless top, he forgot how to breathe. You had a bandana tying your hair up, red like the color of your lipstick. To Arvin, you looked like a dream come true.

“Hello miss.” He greeted you as you climbed in his front seat. “Where to?”

“Anywhere you wanna take me.” You beamed as you buckled your seatbelt. He grinned wickedly as he started the car, feeling the wind whip through his hair as he pulled off.

He made small talk with you as he drove to a nearby lake, telling you about his new job laying down tar. Though you didn’t care much about the particular subject, you hung on to every word. You got the impression that he had a lot to say at all times, he just didn’t think anybody cared to listen. It wasn’t long before you pulled up to a still body of water, parking right before the shore.

“I like coming up here when the weathers nice.” Arvin told you as he kept his eyes straight ahead. “It’s quiet.”

“People who look for quiet places usually have pretty loud thoughts. What are you thinking bout?” You asked as you turned your body to face him and leaned your head on your hands. Arvin chuckled and fidgeted with his cap, looking anywhere but you.

“Only thing I’m thinking bout right now are those little shorts of yours.” He answered honestly, making you flush.

“You like em?” You smiled as you smoothed your hand over your shorts. “My momma made em. She works at the fabric shop in town.”

“She did a good job.” He finally looked at you. “Look real good on you.”

“What about you? Do you ever wear anything but white shirts and beat up old baseball caps?” You teased as you shook the brim of his cap.

“No ma’am.” He pursed his lips to fight off a smile. “Can’t say I do.”

“Good. Cause I ain’t seen anybody rock a jean jacket as good as you.” You told him. “Looks real good on you too.”

“Why, thank you.” He nodded his head before looking out his window so you wouldn’t see him turning red.

“You blushing?” You laughed, cupping his chin in your hands and making him look at you.

“I blush when pretty girls say I look good.” He defended himself as he playfully shooed your hands away.

“So Leonora was right.” You bit your tongue in amusement.

“About?”

“She said you thought I was pretty.” You sighed dramatically as you checked out your manicure. “Didn’t believe it until now.”

Arvin reached forward and took your chin between his rough fingers, holding it in place so he could get a long look at you. You sucked in a sharp breath as you held his gaze, entirely under his spell now.

“Now how could someone as beautiful as you not believe it?” He drawled, eyes darting between your eyes and your lips.

“I guess I don’t hear it all that much.” You whispered, not wanting to disrupt the moment.

“Let me ask you something, doll.” He began. “Anybody ever kissed you before?”

“No.” You shook your head as much as you could with his hand still attached.

He half smirked. “You ever want somebody to?”

“Not until now.” You breathed.

“Me too.” He gulped before leaning in the rest of the way. His hand was sprawled over your cheek, big enough to cover the entire side of your face as he kissed you hungrily. You accidentally knocked his hat off as you grabbed his face, trying to get as close to him as possible. He laughed as it tumbled onto the seat before reconnecting his lips to yours. He pulled you into his lap and pulled the banana out of your hair, immediately tangling his hands in your messy curls. He brought the banana around your neck and used it to pull you closer to him, if that was possible. You gripped the seat behind him, leaving crescent moon marks where your nails dug into the leather. He pulled away only to catch his breath, leaning his head back in bliss as he panted heavily.

“You gon’ be the death of me, darling.” He groaned as he blew out a breath towards the roof of his car. You took his face between his hands and tilted it down so he was looking at you, brushing your thumbs along his ever bruised cheekbones.

“Well then I hope you rest in peace.” You smirked before kissing him again.

~

The memory of your night in Arvin’s left a lingering grin on your face all weekend, still present on Monday during school. You walked with Leonora to her brothers car once the school day had ended, barely able to hear her over your loud thoughts of Arvin.

“Shoot.” You stopped in your tracks on the way out the school doors. “Forgot my math book.”

“You want me to wait?” Leonora asked kindly.

“No, it’s fine.” You waved your hand in dismissal. “I’ll be quick.”

“Alright then. See you in the car.” She waved goodbye, despite knowing she’ll be seeing you again in a few minutes. You waved back before heading to your locker and collecting your book. Since you were closer to the back of the school, you went out the back doors to walk around. Your heartbeat quickened as you clutched your books to your chest, knowing you’d be seeing Arvin in just a few moments. Your state of bliss was interrupted by someone putting their hand over your mouth from behind and yanking you backwards. All your books fell to the ground as you were harshly pushed up against the brick wall of the school building. Your attempt to scream was muffled by someone’s hand over your mouth, so you just shut your eyes in fear.

“There you are, you little whore. You missed our date on Friday.” Chuck Greenwood said through gritted teeth as he pinned you against the wall. Your eyes flew opened upon identifying your attacker and you impulsively bit down on his hand. He yelped in pain and let go of you, shaking his hand out to relieve the sting.

“Ow! You bitch.” He barked and shoved you again.

“Get off of me.” You shoved him back. “I’m no whore. I just didn’t want to slum it with a no good hilly billy like you. I had better things to do.”

This really set Chuck off as he grabbed your face and held you against the wall, restricted your breathing with his grip.

“Oh yeah? Like what? Know you wasn’t working. I drove by all the most popular street corners but I didn’t see you.” He growled as he got in your face. “Now I’m gonna get what I wanted, and you’re gonna keep quiet.”

His hands moved to your waist and you gasped in fear.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” You blurted to distract him. “And for your information, I was out with an actual gentlemen.”

“Who?” He took the bait and tilted his head.

“If you’d like to meet him, he’s right behind you.” You smiled a little, gasping for air when he let go of your face.

“What?” As soon as Chuck turned around, his face connected with Arvin’s fist. You couldn’t help but cover your mouth and laugh at the fact he practically walked into the punch, knowing that had to hurt ten times as bad. Chuck hadn’t yet recovered from the first punch when Arvin swung again, knocking him in the nose this time. Chuck covered his bleeding nose with his hand and looked up in time to be kicked in the stomach by Arvin. He fell to the ground and Arvin knelt down beside him, gripping his face the way he had just been gripping yours to make him look at him.

“You think picking on girls is fun? Huh?” Arvin yelled when Chuck didn’t answer the first question. “You think making em fear you makes you less pathetic?”

“Get off of me.” Chuck cried as he tried to roll away. “You’re crazy.”

Arvin grabbed him by the shirt with both fists, lifting him a little off the ground.

“You listen to me.” He growled. “You’re gonna find everyone you told about you and Y/n and tell em you were lying. Tell em you made it up and you’re sorry. You hear me?”

“Yes.” Chuck whimpered. Arvin pulled him up by his shirt and pushed him forward, towards you.

“Now get your ass up and apologize.” Arvin demanded as Chuck stumbled towards you.

“What? I didn’t even get to do anything.” Chuck turned around to complain to Arvin. Arvin raised his eyebrows in amusement before grabbing Chuck by the back of his neck and getting in his face.

“I said apologize.” He bellowed. “You apologize for spreading lies about her, being aggressive with her, calling her a whore, and you damn best apologize for that comment right there. If you know what’s good for you, you won’t make me wait.”

He lifted Chucks head up and forced him to look at you, tightened his grip when he hesitated.

“Ow.” He whined and looked at you. “I’m sorry.”

“For?” Arvin yelled in his ear.

“I’m sorry for calling you a whore.” Chuck apologized.

“And?” Arvin continued.

“And for telling people we did stuff behind the school busses.” Chuck added, flinching ad Arvin leaned in again.

“What else?” He snarled right in his ear.

“And for grabbing you. Honest to God, I’m sorry.” He cried loudly. “I did it. Let me go.”

Arvin let go of his neck and aggressively turned him around to face him as he gripped his shoulders.

“If I ever see you around my sister or my girl again, I’ll kill you. You hear me?” Arvin shouted as he pointed a finger in Chucks face.

“Yes sir. I mean, yes.” Chuck stammered, eyes full of fear.

“Now get out of here.” Arvin shoved him and Chuck went running. Arvin watched him go, not satisfied until he was out of sight. His breathing returned to normal as a sudden flush came over his face, realizing he just lost his temper in front of you. He looked at you timidly, worried you’d be scared by what you had seen. To Arvin’s surprise, you had a dopey smile on your face as you approached him.

“Your girl, huh?” You giggled as you took his hand in yours, examining it for serious injuries. The handkerchief in your pocket made itself useful as you used it to clean his wounds.

“Sorry you had to see that.” He spoke softly as he searched your face for signs of regret. “He won’t be messing with you no more.”

“Don’t be sorry. Nobody ever got their knuckles bloody for me before.” You brought his hand to your lips, kissing his red knuckles as you looked in his eyes.

“I’ll get em as bloody as I have to to keep you safe.” He promised. “You’re my girl now. Nothings gonna hurt you again.”

“I like it when you call me your girl.” You smiled as you slowly intertwined your hands with his, careful of his cuts.

“Well good.” Arvin put his hand on the back of your head and pulled it towards him, giving you a kiss on the forehead. “Cause I like saying it.”

Tag list 🏷

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling​ @weirdr-artiest @serendipitous-amor @dummiesshort @foreverxholland @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 @maryjanee23 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @jillanaholland @unbelievableholland @rebekkah4766 @flixndchill @sovereignparker @thisisthebiplace @spideydobrik @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @itscaminow @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild @where-art-thau-romeo @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @parkerboop @smilexcaptainx @hes-amarillo @quaksonhehe @kelieah @kickingn-ames @babeyspidey @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @love-sick-blues @electraheart-3174 @lou-la-lou @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @spideyanakin @horanxholland @thesuitelifeofafangirl @anapocalypseinmymind @marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @tomshufflepuff @cookiemonstermusic258​ @maybemona @young-romanoff @alexxcorona113 @spidey-reids-2003 @lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey @im-still-tryin-to-find-it @big-galaxy-chaos @pandaxnienke @theincredibledeadlyviper  @thestylestour  @officialsimppage @mrvelscaptains @peterspideysstuff

#arvin russel x reader #arvin russell #Arvin russel x you #arvin Russell x reader #the devil all the time #tom holland x reader #tdatt #tom holland #tom holland x you

[sugar-petals]

♡ physical affection; levi

↳ NOTE. characterizing boyfriend levi, my passion project lmao! with some sexy moments included 👀

WORDS. ⇢ 7k

tags / warnings. ⚠️ smut, fluff, soft sub!levi x female reader, hurt/comfort hc, angst, shower sex, blowjobs + handjobs + boobjobs (yep. spoiling the captain), face-sitting, protected sex, soap kink, season 3-4 setting, no manga spoilers

Ready for a surprise? It’s not really about what kind of skinship he’s extremely selective about and what not. This is only something people would perceive about him at first glance. Instead, it comes down to how emotionally sheltered he feels. Because of his experiences, that predicates everything else. Which is why Levi’s sexuality is as complex as it is.

But also, in its sudden perfect expression once a person gives him a different perspective: That’s the time when he is touchier. The more in private, the better. The lights down low, with only a candle or two shining from another room. Broad daylight brings the harsh truths and the shaking ground. Nighttime is when Levi feels more intimate and open to caress, down his back and arms, the shoulders, the side of his neck. Done with extreme gentleness, and all of your deep respect.

If you offer him an environment of trust, Levi is open to almost anything and would even magically doze off in your arms for a little while. Breathing softly, resting for the first time in weeks, the brows becoming less tense the deeper he sleeps. You asking if you can stroke his hair (carefully, not messing it up or anything) is something he can’t say no to. The closet romantic in him will fulfill you any reasonable wish as soon as you’d ask anyway.

We know how receptive the captain is to a request, and how much there can be a soft spot for somebody in his heart. If you’re forward enough to just ask, Levi sets himself that goal and opens up. He is diligent with it just as you’d expect. That especially includes the things he says are „absolute horseshit nonsense“ and „disgusting, useless activities“ when reacting to newly formed couples kissing in the survey corps at the other end of the room. Is he a hypocrite and a hater? Actually— not at all.

Levi is a raised rather than born skeptic. Between courage and care, he is always gonna be torn. Both didn’t work in his favor at some point. But at the end of the day, he fears recklessness more than being cautious. Looking at these couples, he knows that they could lose each other the very next day. Or hell, the next hour. Not everybody has 200 titan kills. 

Not everybody is a physically indestructible Ackerman destined and designed to escape death and outlive others whether they want it or not. And showing themselves this vulnerable out in the open is even more dangerous considering all the political intrigues, chaos, attacks, and espionage going on.

When he’s scoffing at skinship in the survey corps, it’s not his intent to ruin the couples and their little happiness in the present moment (nothing he sees as more tragically precious), or say only he can have a relationship because he’s strong enough to make it survive. If anything, Levi is the prime example of how all his connections were doomed exactly because of his status pulling in all the danger. He very well and painfully knows.

What I mean is: He sees the brutality of consequences that can create more misery than if two people would just go about their business. Levi already dreads that the same might happen to him. But after all, the behavior of others is easier to rectify than his own undeniable feelings for you. Which he cannot control in any way, which is why he reacts to others instead. Looking at other people holding hands, he’s also afraid how dabbling in love is a distraction from threats that can even backfire on uninvolved others if someone is suddenly in harm’s way.

Levi does associate physical touch with something that takes an otherwise observing mind off when it shouldn’t be. To him, it creates something so valuable that can become an unintended burden through all kinds of circumstances, he’s seen it all, it’s terrible he had to. And the reason why he has such a torn relationship with it. You really have to know your stuff to build a resilient little bubble where Levi is not constantly hypervigilant and either past- or future-focused.

Which is pretty damn hardwired into him. It’s almost impossible to bring on that kind of atmosphere spontaneously. It has to be ritualized. His intelligence comes with the downside of overthinking and having problems with spontaneous romance, it’s good to direct his thought into something that’s always done in a specific, structured way. You sit down with tea, put the candles on, Levi finishes cleaning his weapons, makes everything combat-ready and usable in seconds, and you carefully lay down on his impeccably made bed together.

Which he never uses, Levi sleeps in chairs. Or on the ground, so he can feel any titan steps in the distance with his whole body, using the cleanest possible mat or towel as a mattress and nothing else. The bed he basically just makes to have it neat, and for you, and to have a spot to lay together. 

But yeah. He will never remove his harness. Not even when you’re sleeping with each other. He’s not once gonna risk having to put it on in a hurry. The only time you will be skin to skin with him is for not even five minutes under the shower. It’s when his cleanliness beats his anxiety around being always ready, which is why that’s a time to fully cherish.

And then, he really has no qualms about you wrapping your hands around his soap-covered torso in the shower anyway. It’s the only time his inner default germaphobe is not vehemently screaming inside his already heavy heart. It doesn’t have anything to do with you, this is about his demons only, confronted with the immense relief you give him. If the latter wins over his mind’s struggle, Levi might draw out the shower time sometimes.

The other voice that tells him ‚don’t make it end so soon’ is now finally convincing him. He will dial down the water stream so he can hear what’s going on outside better to compensate, to know if there’s any ruckus or approaching hazards. Levi has instructed a fast runner among the cadets to bang on the front door under any critical circumstances immediately in the first place.

Levi says he wants to save water, too. He won’t admit it, but he also turns the showerhead to a medium pressure to hear your calm, almost-quiet moans — the barracks have terribly thin walls — better when you’re sucking him off. Slowly, smoothly, not too much spit. Folded towel under your knees because Levi insists, and he is right. The showers in the survey corps have uncomfortable floor tiles. 

He makes sure you won’t get soap in your mouth as well, I don’t have to tell you that he is very circumspect. Levi isn’t usually feeling overly heated in moments like this, but he gets hard and releases fast. You swear his cum tastes like afternoon tea with milk but you won’t tell him that. And who doesn’t like tea and Levi’s homemade milk, no complaints alright.

What’s still a shame is that Levi, always being in such a constant hurry and alertness, puts too much stress on his body for him to become horny all the way. In fact, he often forgets it. He feels numb, and can’t fully take in the sensations. Levi has not been able to feel a lot of genuine pleasure in his life. 

A racing mind is an absolute sex killer, and his adrenaline spikes are so high in combat that most normal things don’t do anything for him. Which is why he brews his tea extra strong. But seriously: It’s a concerning thing. And it tells you to take your time. With his whole body, doing the things he loves the most. And what else could that be? It’s straightforward: Keepin’ it clean.

You make sure that Levi feels extra comfortable by thoroughly massaging his loins and thighs with a sponge during foreplay. Yes, you’re gently working him up. All in circles and light brushing motions. Lots of soap. Suave and bubbly, like silk on his skin. It’s handmade, with oat milk, lavender, and honey. For your honey. You regularly gift a new one to him to try out scents and have supply. You can guess how much Levi appreciates it, to the moon and back in fact. The present box is neatly stored on his office table where he can always see it.

Sending out its balmy fragrance throughout the day, making the room smell amazingly aromatic to him. His nose will never grow tired or accustomed to it. Levi puts the soapbox in a drawer within literal split seconds when someone who isn’t you enters the room. „Tsk, announce yourself when you knock…“ That could even be the newest recruit who doesn’t know anything at all about the place and people. But this is just a you and him thing.

Levi doesn’t want nosy questions from the squad even though nobody would probably even notice the soap laying there in its case, much less ask him about it or the fresh scent in the air because duh, it’s Levi’s office. But it feels absolutely personal for him — so he reacts sensitively about it. This man would probably protect your lavender soap with his blades if he had to. 

The captain is very secretive about your relationship in general. Who on earth would go as far as buy him a new scented bar of joy bi-weekly? At this point, he would crawl on hot coals, needles, lava, ice shards, desert sand, and a mile-long straight of legos (laid out by a maniacally laughing Zeke personally) for you.

Although you wouldn’t allow any of it. Nothing should ever hurt those kitty paws, I mean captain hands and captain feet. You’d put Zeke on blast on your own, luring him with a banana to confuse his senses and then, whack, homerun the monkey into the ocean with Levi’s bristle broom. Problem solved. Anyway.

 Levi wouldn’t hurt himself willingly that way either, the ice shards don’t stand a chance. He has sworn to protect his own life out of self-respect, to honor those passed by living on bravely toward the goal they worked for and being the one always coming home to you. You can rely on him.

So enough about gleaming hot coals and Zeke’s evil legos, back to the point — you already get what I mean. Levi might seem totally grumpy on the outside, but for sure is a devoted man, a caliber as always. He takes all of your presents to heart and is unbelieving as to why he’d be deserving of so much. You prove a point using the gifts as regularly as possible on his body. Where he can feel every bit of your fondness of him. And remember it with muscle memory. Oh shit, this soap does smell so good. As anything on him, who are we kidding.

Dousing Levi with all your attention is the best thing ever. He feels great relaxing with you, and his face softens up. He’s looking at you with a tiny smile in response to you whispering sweet things to him, all while you’re using the sponge on his legs, the chest, and ever-tense back that can definitely use some alleviation. „Thank you for cleaning me“ has got to be the best thing ever to hear from Levi Ackerman. It means the entire world to him. Captain, your mommy kink is showing. His arousal increasing is a natural side effect in no time.

Recently, you’ve been slipping his cock between your breasts as well, and it’s been slowing him down a lot after an eventful mission. While at the same time making him more in the moment, he really enjoys you gradually lathering him up like that. The feeling of skin on skin is amazing. It might be something that… often crosses his mind when he trains during the day, but he can blend it out for the important things. Until you do it all over again, and he ruminates about how much you turn him on until the sun rises.

You also never do a blowjob hands-free. Why would you, anyway? His body is amazingly buff and compact, you want to hold onto those gorgeous lil’ hips and his own hands that need a fair share of holding after carrying the world. You feel him twitching on your tongue when you run either hand over his ass and abs, making sure to trace across all his most erogenous spots there. What’s more: Levi feels really protected and soothed when he feels your palms on him under the streaming water, he can’t explain it.

That's why you like doing shower handjobs just as much. I don’t have to tell you that Levi really delights in them as well and his poker face regularly cracks a bit. His eyes fixate on you, you can tell the connection and involvement. He thinks your fingertips are heavenly, a welcome change to his rugged days. 

He loves how softly they tease and stimulate him with the smallest movements and subtle presses. Yes, Levi doesn’t like rough action, those are vulnerable moments. He has enough brutality elsewhere, violently jerking him off and insulting him would be entirely inappropriate and even scare him.

He’d probably brush your wrists off right away, it’d be so uncomfortable in the silence of the evening. A tender chain of kisses on the nose tip, chin, collar bone, and especially forehead gets him going a lot more. The more chaste and doting the kiss, the more he melts on the inside. 

His anxiety baseline goes down, and he feels like he can let you in. However you guide him and however you choose to indulge him with your lips, Levi is on board, quietly enjoying. Since it’s something that he’s still feeling so new to, leaving you the active role comes naturally.

Stroking him with a deep pace, carefully brushing your lips against his to give him goosebumps — Levi definitely grows into that. In those moments, he really feels taken care of, in safe hands, hands that will stay with him. He’s gonna be surprised just how good something like this feels many times. And be overwhelmed by pleasure to the point where it almost frightens him, he didn’t have that a lot until now.

The satisfaction of a spotless table simply does not compare. Just so you know: He will either be dead silent or mumble under his breath nonstop. That he is okay with you touching him below the belt and even take him in your mouth tells you how much Levi trusts you, how much he knows you love him, and how meticulously he’s already scrubbed and shaved himself beforehand. Yes, the sheer preparation. He puts a lot of work into his body. He couldn’t stand you becoming dirty.

That’s also why the shower is the place oral goes down. And even there, he uses like ten cleaning products to double rinse the stall and himself before and after. Mind you. He sees you eating healthy, brushing your teeth well. Your lips are very beautiful and a masterpiece of nature to him. So it’s not you who he thinks is dirty. Levi is pretty damn paranoid about his own skin and hygiene. If only he would think about himself the way he thinks of your body.

He feels like he has to earn it, be acceptable, and prepare himself endlessly to enjoy touch. Even then, he thinks he must be ugly and revolting. You have to respect him fussing about it rather than forcing him to cut down on his routines. You don’t criticize his perfectionism and see the motivation behind it. So instead, you reassure Levi your own way.

The more he sees you having fun and enjoying his body, the more accepted, confident, and clean he feels. Most people would like to see their partner play up the enthusiasm obviously (unless you have a ‚hiding his amazement’ emo boy kink, which is exactly why you like Levi don’t cha), but it’s particularly meaningful to Levi. Guess why he looks up to Armin’s mentality, and Hange is one of the few people who truly vibe with Levi.

She’s easily amused, dedicated, swooning, excited, and constantly eager. Levi does appreciate a bit of zeal in someone. If you’re a little ardent about touching him, it’ll give his esteem a boost he’s long needed, oh god. Nobody has the guts to praise this guy like that, even if he’s so extremely good-looking. Don’t let him off the hook there. Give him feedback, you’ll be surprised how much it resonates.

It’s already apparent to yourself how keen you are being touchy with him, hell, you’re so in love. Still, it’s a good idea to give him an idea how stoked you are. He doesn’t like it fast and brutally raw without a second thought, but passionate is a whole other debate. A simple „Levi, stay like this, let me do it“ or „Levi, you smell so good“ works wonders. Say what you think and his ease will set in. And I don’t have to tell you that you won’t look like sex is a chore anyway. With Levi, that’s an honor and a pleasure.

That he puts his faith in you and gives you his time is already a massive deal and goes against everything we know of him, what he’s used to, and how his avoidant personality works, being so ridden with losses. And it’s all because of how much you desire and approach him. That’s what it comes down to. 

Even if he’d suffer decades from yearning, he’d not go out of his way to kickstart something, never ever. He’d feel like he’d cause you so much trouble. You wanting him so badly and treating his body like a treasure on the other hand changes his mind.

It proves him wrong all the way. There is still time to enjoy love, the chance is now. Anything else would plague Levi with solitude and self-pity all over again. And the feeling of missing you around in his rooms. Two teacups on the table until he grows old and grey are his ideal of a good life, after all. He will open himself to your emotional and physical presence, realizing how touch-starved he is, and how much it improves his life to have someone to kiss and lay down next to at night.

The even breath at the back of his neck gives him a sense of finally someone sticking around with him side by side, even if he’s gone during the day. It feels good and right to be wanted by you, and nuzzling his face into your cotton dress. Your commitment gives him the little smiles and the silver lining he’s been searching for. He can’t label that feeling, but it’s joy of life and humankind, more than just a willingness for it. He would stay forever pained and bitter if he wouldn’t invite it in now, and you won’t waste that chance with being silent.

You’re attracted to everything about him, tell him, make him aware. The voice, the hair, the mannerisms, his height, his abilities, his mind, his care for others, the posture, how soft his cheeks are, the list is endless. Levi won’t miss how much he’s your type at some point. Which gives him a lot of ease, comfort. You show him that his inferiority complex was an entire smokescreen in his mind. 

He fucking deserves to be called handsome. And by the way — you can lust over him as much as you want when he’s made that time window for your couple stuff. It’s good if you make it as obvious as possible for him. Which is hard to hide anyway. You’ve been masturbating over Levi just sitting there sternly writing something. And he’s like why, and you’re like, it’s you! Look at you!

Levi does want you to touch his skin all over but it’s always sore. And he remains insecure on many days. So he only has particular comfortable spots in the first place. Since hardly anybody dares to touch him, and even if he pats someone’s shoulder nobody would ever be courageous enough to reciprocate, you would feel a bit like a lab scientist. Silently theorizing over him at first even if you really don’t have to. Other people say they’d rather run towards a titan than expose themselves to Levi’s moods, swords, and barking tone after trying to caress him in any way.

News flash, Levi has had such terrible moods since forever because there’s no affection coming to him from anywhere just because people decided he might not need it. And no, he won’t yell at you for touching. He finds it very sweet of you instead. Touching Levi always creates an occasion that will float around in his head for the entire day, that’s guaranteed. He sees how someone goes out of their way and cares for his well-being. He might not like it like standing in the middle of the whole corps, but anywhere else is fair game, at home anyway.

The pressure of dealing with threats he can manage to a degree, and he has lord how many coping strategies. The lack of love he cannot. Big difference that everybody seems to confuse. On top of how he has to be unrelenting in his position because battlefield and the Yeagers being a pain. Most people — except maybe Armin — see that as a closedness to touching altogether. 

The whole world seemingly can't intuit Levi’s craving of gentleness behind the arguably pretty convincing armor, but still. It seems like only a few souls ever think about the Levi that sits down on his bed in the evening completely depleted. You have to make it clear to yourself and him that it’s obviously a one-dimensional way of looking at Levi Ackerman and not good for him.

Which has covertly shaped how he interacts with others in return like a vicious spiral, which is why he blames solely himself for his depravation. And, how severe and untouchable the circumstances made his character. Yes, Levi despises himself for being inaccessible and unable to change it on top, added to how it happened to him over the years. 

Which he had pretty much zero influence on being basically at the gunpoint of life. It’s what you hate seeing the most and comfort him about with brewing tea. It definitely comes back tenfold, Levi won’t take it for granted when you brush out his hair and speak soothingly to him in the evening. „I don’t care, those are all reasons why you’re the apple of my eye“ seems to be what makes Levi’s heart a little mushy in particular.

He is very preoccupied with blame at the start of your relationship. Levi is torn apart by daily guilt and a constantly looming perception of failure to show an opening to his heart. He also crumbles under how the majority of people don’t take him seriously, overreact, or fear he snaps back into soldier mode — he doesn’t — when he does show affection. 

That you gaze behind his reputation and touch him without prejudice is the most important thing to him. You can ignore his mad and gloomy expression, Paradis has carved it into his face for half an eternity (the other half is for you and him when this is over). It doesn’t mean he’s angry on the inside about you. The causes for his madness are way elsewhere, knowing his early story it goes without saying. What made Levi callous and broken-hearted are things very opposite to you.

Those who only see and enjoy his fighting personality probably want him as their poster boy, people who are reflected enough to bother with the idea of a private, cuddling Levi are the only truly caring ones. Because private Levi needs that physical and emotional connection the most. Patting his cadets on their heads is only a little, albeit meaningful moment. The teacup is still half-empty regardless if you wanna think of it in those terms.

Because he can only do so much in terms of initiative — which already shocks people to the point of paralysis, which ruins the moment since he assumes it’s not appreciated then — and it’s only one-sided. Giving isn’t fully making him happy even if it’s his only option given how most people perceive him. 

The teacup only fills to the brim if Levi can let go for like half an hour getting some good ole kitty on your lap treatment. He silently lays there and enjoys your hand rubbing at the back of his neck. He looks genuinely peaceful that way. His hand palms gently at your thigh and knee, and rests there all tranquil while he ruminates about his day and how lucky he is to have you.

The whole ‚theorzing rather than going for it‘ thing stems from you listening to those people a bit too much at the beginning. Instead of asking Levi directly about touch, and to be fair: Not a single human being has done that yet, you try to figure him out at a distance. Which is also a good thing though. 

You learn about many Levi habits others would overlook, misinterpret, or don’t think have any meaning. The more you learn about him, the more understanding you become, the more protective you will be, the less he will avoid intimacy. Because Levi really doesn’t want to shy away, but often his body has too much memory in it to be instantly receptive. So it rather starts with the mind, then.

The irony is. Levi rejecting bonds with others as not to have them weigh heavy on his mind when fighting will only make it worse. You make a statement to him that if he fully immerses himself in what you have, he can fight better and actually be without those godforsaken regrets he’s always talking about. That’s why when you’re having sex, you make him look in your eyes and kiss their lids, and wrap your legs around him very firmly because Levi has to know he’s deeply yours. 

Hugs, the same thing. You squeeze the last curse out of him every time and tell him to hold you tight as well. You do have to tell him twice. Just because Levi is the strongest man in history, doesn’t mean he embraces very roughly. In fact, Levi is not used to this at all. Even more irony. Paradis’ ever-swearing, most badass titan killer with the physical excellence of a hundred acrobats can’t execute the simple act of putting his arms around you in a normal, casual way.

The why is the harder thing to talk about. Last time he got proper, truly loving hugs was way over 20 years ago. From Kuchel, during a time where he was too young to remember these things long-term. Let that sink in. It confuses him when he does it and even more so when others do. Kissing Historia’s hand even as a light official gesture was already completely unusual for him and a first time. 

Levi doesn’t go beyond what he sees others doing in that regard. No extra miles, just imitating. Now think of him with something as big a deal as embracing his lover for minutes. He lets his arms just hang there and you gotta make him learn how to intertwine fingers or how to press his palms on your back. You’re the one holding him tight there, while Levi’s mind and stare go blank, he’s even more speechless and perplexed after confronting his uncle back then.

I’m not kidding. You have to ask Levi to be forthcoming with those things as well, it simply does not occur to him, and he’s unsure about everything there is to it. What a loveless world this guy is in. If it already frustrates you to see him struggle, imagine how deprived he must be. One of his inner blocks is, Levi has major jealousy of guys who are what he thinks a better hugging height. It’s obviously the other way around to anybody who’d be in love with Levi. 

Of course he has the best hugging height by far. What’s not to like? He’s ideal. But in his perspective, imagine all these people above him wrapping around each other in moments of enthusiasm, shoulder-level on shoulder-level, or only with slight differences. And when it comes to him, it feels awkward because they feel strange bending down only for him and Armin.

And that’s probably the issue. Because it’s much better not to bend and try and intertwine, but just have Levi bury his face into your winter coat without a hassle. You don’t have to be perfectly chest to chest to make it work. Besides… romantic hugs are always a bit different. And, you invite Levi to do exactly that with you. Since Levi’s pet peeve is politeness, you’ll also have to show him the difference between mere courtesy and love, he hasn’t fully learned it either. 

But just so you know. Levi is not a naive baby or raging bull in a china shop once he has given his love to someone. He observes well, adapts well. When it’s heartfelt, when it’s the right moment, it comes out almost by surprise, he’s feeling it and he will respond to you. With serenity and intent.

If there’s someone who can be unpretentious with physicality, that’s him. He just has to transfer that to romantic gestures and Levi will be the perfect lover after some time. He’ll end up like, „Eh, so what. We do this hugging thing!“ — Hilarious. Levi, knowing his battle tactics, does have a sort of innate courage to approach bodies: This time, it’s about someone he wants to give pleasure and gratitude to, though. Which will feel very different. 

And you’re a lady he’s all whipped for, that changes everything. He might sort of try to lean at the wall next to you, to murmur about you kissing him after eating cake so he’s full of crumbs „and now I have to dust it all off again, hmph“, but he is not prepared for another kiss and you tickling him pinned against the wall (he’s not ticklish, but you still love it, and Levi has a thing for you being all over him despite his stoic face).

So yeah, Levi will be super grumpy and do the „Oi oi!“ thing, but also turn around so you won’t see the blush. Man, is he embarrassed. He will try to waddle away awkwardly to do paperwork, but no chance if you tug him back by the sleeve, dust off his shirt from crumbs, and squeeze his cheeks into a perfect Levi snoot. I’m telling you, he has a nice pouty face. 

He might assume that you’re out of your mind because nobody has done that with him yet, but once you tell him that you just wanna look at him because every day might be the last, he sees the point of your antics. Merely saying you kiss him just because won’t make sense to the captain, it’s gotta have a purpose for the future.  

So, you will tell him to always remember what your soothing lips do on him before he draws the blade tomorrow, and that he has plenty of filthy crumbs to come home to. „I think that’s right by what we’ve seen today“ is what he’ll admit, and carries you off to the bed to get grinding because all that stuff made him kinda turned on. Or rather, you grind, Levi on the other hand gets flustered. He complains about you being a tease at length since he’s having a huge she-pinned-me-to-the-wall boner. 

You sit on his face to take it even further and as his favorite treat, end of discussion, your goddess is here mister. Geez, you’ll make him a hot mess. That dick won’t go soft anytime soon. You’ll talk to him about when his face is already ruined with cake crumbs, he has nothing to lose, gotta clean up anyway. The grumbling noise from below tells you that the argument is a good one. For good measure, you palm at his trousers to see his legs react and his voice suddenly hitch. Ah, it’s a wonderful day.

Levi knows a thing or two about holding his breath correctly, but what he likes the most is that he feels perfectly sandwiched between thigh Rose and thigh Maria. Yeah, he does consider them his personal comfort walls and hopes they’ll always be there. Congruently, Levi wraps his arms around them, in fact it’s locking rather than wrapping, and you’re like I see wow he’s serious. 

On goes his tongue lapping away between your labia pretty much incessantly. The arousal is so intense, you have to breathe in yourself. Oh shit, Levi is gonna try to finish you off, shots fired. Not fast, but insisting. He does not bother with you panting pretty damn hard whatsoever. He’s calling people like that, but Levi might be the real brat all along.

Fair enough, he currently doesn’t hear anything, which he also loves the idea of. All day, people everywhere are talking nonsense, and now he gets to enjoy perfect silence. His ears are small, they’re easy to cover with thighs. He just goes on and on and gets you past lord how many brinks with a heated buildup. 

There are a lot of evil things Mister Zeke has said and committed, but by far the most offending thing he has yet insinuated is that Levi is not popular with the ladies. Blasphemy, treason, outrage, éclat, trickery, criminal offense, international slander, the most grueling case of fake news since the horse left the building, and no, Jean is not meant. With those oral skills, any lady interested in him would get a permanently bleeding nose and something else permanently wet as you can personally attest to.

If Paradis would even remotely know what he can do in bed (and they would if Connie told them, he lives next door), even more people would run down his house than they already do to get a piece of him. Jesus Christ, the Ackerstamina. But I mean. People are probably suspecting it. 

How can you not move like a god in bed if you can bend yourself into any Pythagorean shape mid-air. Him being a fighter also gives him experience with managing energy when you have sex, I’m not kidding. Levi can even handle you thrusting right back on his tongue, and even your jokes about how he’s getting the cream to his tea now.

Levi is already kind of dripping in juice. His fingers are sweaty, this time it’s something on his face and hands he prefers though. He won’t wipe it off just yet. So you take on the task to put a condom on him — kind of expensive, mysteriously imported, gotta make every one count my friend — and have Levi take you from behind to soil the bedsheets completely at this point. 

Levi lets all the leaking happen, of course he notices, and yet he’s too focused on you gripping his cock hard all the way. So much for walls. Levi has to surrender to the thought of you squeezing him in any way you fancy at this point. That doesn’t just include the face, that much he learned. His cock is gonna fall off, you tighten up so much and make him squirm, Levi’s all blissed out.

He can’t handle your ass either. He just stares like the Founding Titan invented a brand new method to hypnotize the Ackermans or something. Although. Why’d you need to come up with something, though? People they love completely enthrall them already. 

If we know something by now, it's that every Ackerman gets completely fucked in the head out of the blue and sent to another dimension when they’re with the love of their life, no hypnotizing device needed. Levi is clasping his teeth for his dear life back there. People asking him if he’s gone mad he’d answer ‚maybe‘, but if you asked him if this made him lose it he would admit it.

Since he doesn’t know what to do with his hands again, you ask him to place them at your waist. „Properly, now slide in, Levi.“ — He takes his time for the first few thrusts, grunts, but gets the hang of it, in fact he’s a pro in the making. All that vertical maneuvering can turn into horizontal maneuvering very quickly. Levi feels so strange and so good at the same time, it’s overwhelming. How can something he thought would be so dirty be this amazing? 

And since this position allows him to penetrate you even deeper, Levi gets the full experience of being inside of you times two. The wet noise already turns him on, his body feels so warmed up, and he feels really shocked he’s doing this. Although his face won’t show, it’ll be concentrated as before. On the inside, Levi is losing it.

He can’t get enough of your body and how you tell him what to do, Levi will be driving it home in no time. You’re gonna have your jaw dropped by how lusty he can get yourself, but also love how he’s really breaking a sweat just because of your hard grip. Who would have thought. 14-meter class titans got nothing on you. Levi’s entire neck and chest is glazed over. You call him out on it, all you’re gonna get is a little ‚tch, that’s your fault, woman‘. I mean of course it is. He’s literally at your mercy. I told you he’s hilarious.

Little did you know that Levi will straight-up ignore his sweatiness and just continue, one heartbeat at a time, to really fill you out and make you feel good. Can you imagine. Levi dedicating like 20 minutes to make sweet love to you doggystyle. 

He has a good feeling for keeping you just on the verge of cumming. He even reaches around to press two fingers into your clit after five minutes of figuring out his angles. You didn’t expect this at all. It’s as if Levi can read your mind going „but his hands are gonna get really messy, why?“ — he just goes on rubbing and says, deadpan: „Miss, do I look like I care.“

Some dirty things in the world are just there to annoy him. They’re not existing to make his life easier. And toilet humor-related things: We know Levi’s stance on that. Wet pussy on the other hand: Surprise. He thinks of it very differently. Levi is pretty caught off guard by the fact that you loving and adoring him is the reason you’re leaking so much. 

It sinks in (um, literally) that you’re all drippy because you really want him inside. Not to mention that he constantly realizes just how attracted to him you are. Your desire for him, that’s Ackerman kryptonite. Levi doesn’t miss your eyes, nope. That motherfucker is a damn good face reader.

And— How warmed up your body feels in his hands, how you’re breathing. How you’re telling him exactly how to tilt to hit the good spots. How you’re sucking in air when he does just that. How you sound, grip the pillow, the sheets. Your goosebumps all over your legs. How your lips part. How you wait for every thrust. The way you tell him how good it is. Your pulse. Your own sweaty back, letting his hands on your waist slip and slide a little with the rhythm. 

How he’s struggling not to moan his soul out and chokes back. How you’re softly moving to glide off, he’s gonna lose his mind. How much you’re enjoying him and how cute you tell him he is. Whatever you’d ask of him, he’s so ready to fulfill it. You having the absolute hots for Levi is probably gonna preoccupy him for the whole night while you’re sleeping and he sits in the chair.

He’s been shooting grumpy cat level eye daggers with extra Ackerpoison at the corps couples for walking around showing any signs of this. Making all those lovey-dovey faces or going to the back of the barn together. Levi has chased them with his favored broom to whoop-diddly-doop those horndog soldiers back on track, swirling his weapon of choice around to send a sweeping cloud of dust after them.

Whereas now… he has to deal with the fact that he really loves all that horny stuff. Cognitive dissonance 101 is striking him out of nowhere. I mean he’d not fuck in the barn, that one is truly disgustingly shittily bastardly filthy or however he’d word it, but you get the gist. He caught feelings and caught pleasure — and that’s such a good thing.

His problem is, Levi wouldn’t know how to fawn right back at you. Except saying „good job“ like he’d praise a cadet, but he decides that’s not something to say during sex. He’s very right about that indeed. So instead: He will always reply to you accordingly and with Levi-typical honesty. 

If you say you love how he kisses your neck from behind, he will tell you he’s enjoying it as well because damn he loves that spot indeed (titans can tell you a story about it… Levi has such a neck fixation, that fucker). And: Letting actions speak the loudest with him. He’s a practical guy. Levi’s hands can to the most complicated reverse grips and all that crazy human Beyblade shit. Getting you off at his fingertips is gonna be his easiest exercise ever once he gets into it.

He doesn’t even do it to show off at this point. Levi is just that kind of a sex machine and eager to please, not to mention god, is he obedient and a giver in disguise. If Levi were offered the most luxurious, expensive tea available versus your breasts to suck on for a week given he’s free of titan duty… that cup is gonna turn cold. He loves the skinship and he loves giving you a fuckton of orgasms, as many as you like and as many he has time for.

Self-explanatory, this is something he will not feel one bit of regret about. Hours touching you is the farthest from wasting time to Levi. The less he holds back with his love, the more secure things become. He doesn’t feel the misery he thought he’d run into, nor does it feel like a reckless act that’s only something feeble. 

The new soap every other week on his table alone reminds him you’re here to stay and like his every quirk, and make this a private thing rather than something to parade around. You never lied saying „Levi, you’re mine.“ He does wrap his head around the fact that all of this is happening with time.

Levi finds your relationship meaningful because it gives him feelings and exactly that emotional harbor he never had before, and he gifts you the reverence of your lifetime since Levi doesn’t half-ass anything. You reassured and guided him so much, he looks up to that, it breaks down his prejudice against loving more and more. That’s how you’ll feel intimate in all kinds of ways for very intense hours he can spare to make the most out of it. 

From the light touch at his arm to making out until the candles burn down. And if you tell Levi to sell the deal and dedicate his heart, how can he not take that as a serious order. He has to be guarded to put his guard down, and that’s what you can offer him, and he will create something lasting out of it. Promise is promise to him, we all know.

RELATED:  sub!levi hc (tea shop au) | life after war (levi’s happy end)

multifandom mlist | levi writings on ao3

© 2017-2021 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts and translations allowed.

#levi x reader #levi smut #levi headcanons #levi ackerman #aot #snk #levi #snk smut #sub!levi #attack on titan #levi fluff #snk fluff #levi imagine #levi headcanon #snk headcanon #snk crack #levi x female reader #attack on titan headcanon #snk season 4 #domestic levi #i'm crying but also laughing at the zeke crack

[songbirdstyles]

white wedding.

summary: your estranged aunt leaves you her estate in her will with the stipulation that you have to be married to receive your inheritance. luckily, harry is more than willing to help.

pairing: best friend!harry styles x reader

warnings: fluff, smut, angst if you squint.

song inspo.: white wedding - billy idol

word count: 13.4k

You weren’t too close to your Aunt Alice for the entirety of your life - there’s a picture, you think, hung in your parents’ house of her and some of your other family members, crowding around your bassinet when you were just a baby, her face turned up into a scowl amid everyone else’s gleaming grins, and it was a lovely foreshadow into your relationship with her. She sent you $10 on your birthdays and Christmas (an amount that your father had always scoffed at when he thought you weren’t listening - ‘she’s a goddamn millionaire,’ he’d hiss to your mother, ‘and the most she can spare her only niece is $10?’)  and you could remember, when you were 9, seeing her at a family reunion where she sat at a table pressed into a back corner and nursed glasses of wine during the entire event.

It goes without saying, you suppose, that she wasn’t the kindest lady. Your mother had told you how Aunt Alice cut off your father for some reason nobody could quite discern and, so, she never held a much larger place in your life than a mere branch on your second grade family tree project -

But, still. It’s rather difficult to regard the dead in such a negative manner so you try and focus on the good parts of your late aunt. Twice, she wrote ‘love u’ in your Christmas card. And, at said family reunion, when you walked over to her table to say goodbye before you left, she delivered a sloppy, strangely wet kiss to the side of your face that smelled distinctly of chardonnay (a scent you hadn’t quite been able to place until years later.) And - 

“Are you alright?”

Harry’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, gazing out the rain-streaked car window at the night sky with an odd air of sadness surrounding you. You had been trying to hide the slight dash of sadness you feel at the memory of your aunt by disguising it with a mask of sleepiness that has you leaning your forehead against the cold window, eyes squeezed shut. But Harry can read you like a goddamn book - like the back of his hand. It’s what best friends are for, you suppose.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, tilting your head away from the window to glance at him in the driver’s seat. And, the truth is, you are fine. It’s not as though you’re entirely too saddened with the news of Aunt Alice’s passing. She’d always had health issues, according to your parents, and you’re not sure what, exactly, has sealed her fate - you’re simply more confused by it all. “Well - when we were leaving the movies, I got a call from my dad. My aunt died.”

You can hear Harry’s sharp intake of breath and there’s a brief hesitation where you know he’s trying to gauge how you feel about it. “Oh,” he settles on, turning to look at you in the eye when the car rolls to a stop at a red light. “M’sorry, love.”

You shrug, glancing down to squint at your fingernails in the darkness of Harry’s car. You’d begun to pick at the baby blue nail polish he’d delicately applied the night before (they matched his, naturally) and it really is a nervous habit you should work on, but you can’t be bothered right now. “We weren’t close,” you admit, leaning back against the headrest. “It’s just weird, is all.”

“Are y’sad about it?”

“Not quite,” and it’s the truth. “She was wealthy, though. I think she wrote novels or plays or something - I’m not sure. And I was, apparently, her closest living relative that she didn’t despise.”

He clicks his tongue softly, making a left when the light finally switches to green, and his eyes shift back towards the road. “Left y’somethin’ in her will, did she?”

“Her countryside estate,” you confess, voice soft - it’s not the climax of your story but it certainly sounds like it should be, and you can see the confused crease in Harry’s eyebrows when you look up at him. “I looked the address up online, Har - it’s gorgeous, 6 beds and 7 bathrooms. I guess we had similar tastes in that regard.”

“Y’don’t sound too thrilled, for someone who jus’ got their dream house handed to ‘em on a platter.”

“There’s a stipulation in the will.”

“Ah.”

You smile tightly. “I’ll only inherit the house if I’m married.”

It’s something you’ll never understand. Aunt Alice never married and lived in that grand old house (your dream house) all by herself, and if you’d known about your role in her will perhaps you’d have argued it with her in person - the hypocrisy of it all, how goddamn unfair it was. And it’ll kill you - truly kill you - to see that house go to whoever her next closest living relative is who she doesn’t hate. Probably some third cousin twice removed, considering how great she was at cutting people off.

And Harry sits for a moment in silence, considering it. “Seems very - very - can’t think of the word.”

“Sexist? Unfair? Dumb?”

“All true,” he agrees, giving you a sympathetic smile, and it makes you feel the tiniest bit better, even if it’s just for a moment. “Barbaric, maybe.”

“I hate her,” you declare, crossing your arms over your hoodie-clad chest, and you most certainly don’t, but you’re angry enough to mean it in the moment. When your father had told you, you hadn’t thought about it too much - besides being confused by the entire thing, being left a house by a relative you hardly knew - but saying it out loud makes you angrier, squeezing your eyes shut. “Would you know she never married? How does that make sense?” “It doesn’t,” Harry repeats, and you glance out the window, lifting your palm to wipe at the cloudy stain your forehead had made against the glass - you’re just less a minute away from your apartment building, and you rip your phone from Harry’s charger and shove it into the pocket of your hoodie. “She left you time, right? T’get married? Tha’ seems only fair.”

You snort, ignoring the way his lips turn up into a smile at the noise. “She gave me a year. I mean, I’m 23 - I wasn’t intending on settling down for another couple of years.”

If you were less distracted, perhaps you’d see his responding silence for what it is - time to think, gears grinding in his head, as he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment building and leans over the center console to wrap you in a hug. Harry’s a talkative person and he’s only really quiet when he’s got something on his mind, but you’ve got something on yours too (probably more than he does) so you ignore it. And his soft murmur into your hair of ‘I’ll pick you up tomorrow for breakfast’ sounds every bit as distracted as you feel so you simply pay it no mind.

It’s easier that way, for now.

 --

 “I’ve been thinkin’ about your situation.”

You raise your eyebrows at Harry, bent over his plate of French toast as though he hadn’t spoken at all. His sunglasses are perched at the end of his nose so you can see his eyes - which, in your opinion, defeats the purpose of even wearing the stupid things in public. But, whenever you two go out together, he insists on wearing them, along with a grey beanie protecting his infamous head of curls from any wandering eyes, and the bizarre attempt at a disguise always makes you feel like you’re having breakfast with a burglar. 

“Not much to think about,” you shrug, popping a forkful of omelet into your mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “I was just mad about it last night, you know. Heat of the moment, sort of thing.”

“I’d be mad, too,” Harry tells you, and it’s getting more difficult to ignore the way his words send heat creeping up your neck, and you glance down at your plate of eggs with a small smile gracing your face. “Not jus’ heat of the moment, either. Really mad. S’bullshit.”

A second of silence passes, and you let his reassurance settle over you - simply having him agree with you on the stupidity of the entire situation makes you feel a thousand times better. Even if you don’t get the house (and you’ve already progressed into the last stage of grief over almost certainly losing it - acceptance) at least you’ll always have Harry, and maybe that’s enough.

But the house would be nice, too.

“What were you thinking about?” You question, lifting your eyes back up to meet his through his tinted glasses, and if there wasn’t the barrier between your gazes you’d be able to note the nearly shameful glint in his eyes as he digs into his stack of sugary sweet toast, doused with maple syrup and towered high with fruit. “About the situation, I mean.”

Harry begins to speak once more just as you reach over with your fork to nab a piece of banana, and he swats at your wrist as you pop the slice of fruit into your mouth. “Don’ steal my banana, babe,” he tells you, eyes narrowing in mock anger, and you roll your eyes at the name. “Anyway. S’not totally crazy, that you could get married in less than a year.”

Yes, it is, you want to reply back, but you can tell he’s ramping up to something important, so you rest your fork on your plate and furrow your eyebrows at him pointedly. Truthfully, even if the love of your life happened to be sitting in front of you, you’re not sure you could go through with marrying them, anyway. It’s such a heavy commitment and, God, you thought you’d have more time. Time to explore and experiment and not settle down (in your dream house) just for the sake of it.

“What if we got married?”

And that - is not what you were expecting him to say.

You’re not sure if he’s kidding or not so you give it a minute before responding in any capacity. Just stare at him, and he makes a point of hooking his pinkie in the center of his sunglasses and tugging them down his nose just a bit so you can see the absolute lack of amusement in his eyes. He’s all business, goddammit, as if he hadn’t just basically proposed to you in the middle of eating your fucking omelet.

But you can’t be sure he’s serious, and you also can’t be sure that the way your stomach flipped wasn’t because of a particularly egregious sip of chocolate milk and not the prospect of marrying your best friend. So you lean back, crossing your arms over your chest. “Are you kidding?”

Harry just shakes his head, grey beanie sliding up just a bit for one chocolate coloured lock of hair to escape the confines of the dumb hat. “M’being dead serious, babe. I’ll get down on one knee an’ prove it, too.”

“Don’t do that,” you beg him, reaching out to grab at his wrist when he makes to push himself out of his chair, and his wide grin only sends your stomach into another set of somersaults. “Jesus, Har.”

“Horrible idea?”

You don’t respond right away, grabbing your glass of chocolate milk and wrapping your lips around the straw. It’s a few seconds to process the request in all its glory - marrying your best friend, even if it’s just for show, is a lot. Sure, all you’d really have to do is head down to a courthouse (you could do it today, even - if you wanted to, and you’re not sure you do.) It’d be easier than searching hopelessly for the love of your life and arrange a wedding in less than a year, and you’d be able to walk the halls of your aunt’s gorgeous estate, decorate it how you please, and - ideally - your relationship with Harry wouldn’t quiver in the slightest.

Well, maybe that’s why you’re hesitant to begin with. Because it would quiver - or because it wouldn’t - or because it’s plain weird to marry your best friend. Even if it’s for a good cause (your dream home) and even if he suggested it in the first place, because he cares about you and wants you to be happy.

That’s sweet.

Maybe it would be a glorious fuck you to Aunt Alice in death. It isn’t as though anyone would know about the inauthenticity of the union but you would, and that’s all the revenge you need for her adding such a silly stipulation to her will, anyway. A marriage born not out of love, but out of need - sure, it’s not exactly how you wanted your life to go, but it’s better than watching the estate go to someone you’d never met before. You could get married and get divorced in the time frame she’d given you to find love in the first place and it would hardly be a blip in your life plans, and certainly not in Harry’s. It isn’t as though he’d suggest it if the marriage would ruin anything for him. 

Sure, you’d prance around family parties with him on your arm to sell your faux romance to your family. Only one or two, though, his arm around your waist, and it wasn’t as if your parents hadn’t already begun to question whether your close friendship with Harry ventured into something further. And, when it’s all said and done, when the house is officially in your name and you can begin shopping for furniture to make it your own, it’ll be easy to sell the divorce - he’s touring, you’d tearfully proclaim, and the stress was just too much on our relationship. And then you’d both be happy, right? For the most part, anyway. Still best friends with no hassle at all, and you get your house and he gets the popstar life without the settling down part.

When you’ve swallowed your gulp of chocolate milk, it’s nearly worrying how much you’ve thought about the proposal.

“It’s not a horrible idea,” you begin, eyes diverting downward to where Harry’s fingers are fiddling with a straw wrapper. “I mean, it could be pretty easy.”

“Very easy.”

“We just elope -”

“Could do it today, even -”

“I haven’t agreed yet, Mr. Styles - but we would elope, and then I’d get the house, and maybe I’d bring you to a family reunion, just to sell it, and then we’re divorced.”

He raises his eyebrows, glasses sliding further down the bridge of his nose until their purpose has been completely obliterated, and his eyes are on display for the goddamn world to see. “Unless we fall in love an’ live happily ever after - no divorce necessary, m’love.”

Bastard. Your stomach flips again but you just roll your eyes, picking up your fork and lifting a shaky bite of eggs up to your mouth. “Shut up.”

You’re almost certain you’ve made up your mind but you still make a show of thinking about it, slowly chewing on your omelet and focusing your gaze on a paper napkin resting on the ground beside Harry’s chair. It’s almost too easy, the entire process, and maybe that should make you nervous, just a little bit, that the idea of marrying him feels so relaxing. But - well - if you had to choose anyone in the world to marry in order to fulfill a stipulation in your aunt’s will, it would have to be Harry.

He’s looking at you eagerly when you look back up at him, and you’re not sure why he’s so excited about it - not like there’s anything in it for him - but it’s something you’ll think about later.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” you tell him, watching the way his grin spreads across his face like wildfire, and you can’t help yourself from smiling, too, “but I am.”

In seconds, Harry’s reaching across the table, grabbing your hand in his larger one, and just the way your heart jumps at the feeling of your palms pressed together should certainly have you rethinking your enthusiastic yes. But then he’s picking up the straw wrapper he’d been fiddling with, and it’s twisted into a makeshift wedding ring, and he’s sliding it onto your ring finger with a wide smile like a fucking puppy -

God. You’re in too deep already, and you’ve only just agreed.

 --

 For the record, you’d rethought your decision many, many times since agreeing.

You’d drafted out the text for Harry for when you inevitably will change your mind - a block of words confessing to him that you’d reacted too quickly and you think it would be best if you simply forfeit your inheritance, but you can never quite gather the guts to do it. And every time you copy and paste the note from your notes to your text thread with your best friend, something always stops you -

The photos of the house from the real estate website you’d seen it on.

Harry’s wide grin as you accepted his offer.

FIngers delicately sliding on an engagement ring made of a paper straw wrapper, and the next day when he’d shown up at your door with an actual, real engagement ring.

Naturally, you hadn’t sent it. You’d deleted the note entirely, too, embarrassed with even looking at your words of defeat sprawled on your phone screen. Sometimes, though, you wish you had fucking sent it. Nearly two weeks after accepting the proposal that still hasn’t progressed from feeling like an absolute fever dream, you’re sitting with Harry at Aunt Alice’s funeral, his arm hooked around the back of your chair and the other clutching a glass of wine that he’s hardly taken two sips of.

You’re on your second glass already, and it’s barely been an hour. You’d signed the guestbook and hooked your arm with Harry’s and introduced him as your fiance to exactly one of your great-aunts, and you’d been so nervous that Aunt Shirley could see right through your faux-engagement that you’d practically downed your glass the second her back turned. 

“This is so weird,” you confess to Harry, shifting closer to him so no one else around you can hear. Not that there is, per se, anyone else around you - not many other people are sitting down, but you and Harry were one of the first people to arrive, so you’ve given yourselves a pass to sit down for a while. “Isn’t it weird, Har?”

“S’only weird if you make it weird,” he murmurs back, and you would roll your eyes at how maddeningly calm he is if you weren’t desperate to keep up your pretense as loving fiance to the funeral goers whose wandering eyes may turn to you two. “And, babe, you’re makin’ it weird.”

Your lips spread into a smile and you lift your glass of wine to your lips, taking a small sip before bringing it back down to your lap. No matter how many times you scream at yourself, internally, that nobody knows you’re not engaged and to calm the fuck down, you can’t stop your leg from bouncing up and down, showcasing your nerves in the most outward way you possibly could. “Wonder when my parents are getting here - should’ve texted them and told them separately. Did you tell your mum?”

“Told her the truth,” Harry tells you, tilting his head into yours in a way that feels so natural you swear you could stay this way forever. “You’re not tellin’ your parents the truth?”

“Bless my mum,” you sigh, “but she can’t keep a secret to save her life.”

Harry exhales a soft laugh, eyes darting around the room full of people before landing back on yours, and your gazes lock for just the briefest of seconds before he’s glancing down at your lap. “Y’don’t have t’do this if you’re uncomfortable, y’know. We can jus’ say - the pressure of m’job was too much.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you tell him, which is true. You’re nervous, for sure, but he could never make you uncomfortable. “And, ironically enough, that’s my excuse for when we divorce.”

Your voice drops to a near breath on the last word and Harry’s head drops back with a bark of laughter that’s entirely too loud for the setting you���re at but you can’t bring yourself to reprimand him. “Always talkin’ ‘bout our divorce,” Harry breathes, tilting his head closer to yours so his mouth is close enough to your ear that you can feel his breath, hot against your skin. “What if we fall in love, babe? No divorce then. Don’ y’want us t’live happily ever after?”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” you roll your eyes, even if you’re almost positive you will (or already have) and shake your head at Harry’s resulting chuckle. “Been best friends for nearly five years, haven’t we? If we were going to fall in love, I reckon it would’ve happened already, Har.” 

“You’re right,” he agrees, voice oddly soft and sounding just sentimental enough for you to narrow your eyes suspiciously at him - but before you can question him further, his eyes dart down to where your leg is still frantically bouncing up and down. “Bloody hell, love - bouncin’ your leg so much. Y’look like a nervous wreck.”

“Thanks,” you begin, and whatever else you’d been meaning to say dies in your throat as Harry’s arm shifts from around the back of your chair and his hand comes down firm on your leg. His fingertips brush your knee and his palm lays soft against your thigh, just high enough to gently brush the end of your black dress and you wish you could control the way your stomach flips again and again like a fucking gymnast.

It’s to keep up appearances, you tell yourself. So people don’t think I’m so nervous. But it feels so nice, so natural in a way you hadn’t expected, feeling his hand resting on your thigh like it belongs there, fingertips drumming against your knee which most certainly isn’t bouncing anymore.

Your eyes flit up to his, narrowing them ever so slightly as if to sniff out his intentions, and out of the corner of your eye you can see two familiar figures walking in the high arched doors of Aunt Alice’s service. Your parents break off from each other nearly the second they enter, your father skirting off to greet some of his cousins and your mother’s eyes scan the room filled with relatives before landing on you and Harry.

“Mum’s here,” you tell Harry, pushing yourself to stand, and the feeling of his hand dropping off your thigh is a sensation you absolutely despise. He stands soon after you, adjusting the cuffs of his black button down shirt, and for the first time since the funeral began, you can see the beginnings of nervousness creeping upon him. A light pink flush works its way up his neck to his cheeks and he brings his hand up to run through his hair, inhaling a shaky breath. “You look nervous, Har. You’ve met my mum before.”

“S’different. Now we’re engaged.”

“Not too different.” You hook your arm with Harry’s, patting his hand with yours, and he gives you one grateful fleeting grin before you begin walking over to your mother. She’s bent over the guestbook, scribbling her name with the feather pen resting beside the log. You stop walking when you’re just a couple paces behind her, waiting for her to turn around and see you two - and your voice drops to a hushed tone as you reassure Harry. “I think she already sort of thought we were dating anyway - so she won’t care too much.”

“Wait - she did?”

“Hey, mum!”

 --

 You’re getting married in a week.

And, sure, you’d known that the entire process would move quicker than you could imagine but it still feels surreal and you still reckon you haven’t thought it through enough. It’s worsened (or, in some way, bettered) by the absolute adoration your family had immediately adopted towards Harry after meeting him just a few days ago, your aunts pulling you aside at the funeral and the repast that occurred after and whispering in your ear about what a handsome man he is! 

Well, they’ll certainly be disappointed when, in a month or two, you pop in to the next family gathering and announce that you two had gotten divorced as quickly as you’d been wed. Harry will be your ex husband and, at that point, surely people would be suspicious at the speed of which everything had happened but - hey - you’ll have your house and your best friend and that’s all you really need, isn’t it.

Yeah.

Slowly but surely, you’re coming to peace with it, and Harry’s certainly making it easier by being so zen about it all. His nerves at the funeral had been just about eradicated because your mum loves him, which you knew, and your father had seemed positively overjoyed at the news of your engagement, but they’d both seemed rather disappointed at your decision to elope instead of spending the time planning a big white wedding. And you’d expected that, but you figure that, by the time your second marriage inevitably rolls around, it’ll be real (realer than whatever you’re feeling for Harry, because you’re still not sure) and your father will walk you down the aisle and you’ll be able to go shopping for a big gorgeous wedding dress like you’d always dreamt of wearing.

You haven't even bought a dress. The one you’re wearing now, staring at yourself in the floor length mirror propped against your bedroom wall, is one you’d purchased for your college graduation to wear beneath your gown - simple and flowy, falling to just about your mid-thigh, and the only redeeming quality for even being considered a wedding dress is its white color. Still - it isn’t as though it’s a real wedding, in the traditional sense, so it doesn’t make sense for you to spend too much on a gown you’ll don for a trip to the courthouse and then get sad whenever you look at it again, post-divorce.

No, you don’t think you like it. You’d liked it for your graduation but for a wedding (your wedding) you wish you had something just a bit nicer, and you want to strip out of it and change back into your jeans but Harry’s sitting in your living room, waiting for you to model the stupid thing for him, and you’d hate to disappoint him. So you inhale softly, run your hand down the fabric, soft beneath your fingers, and reach for the door.

Harry’s on his phone when you step out of your bedroom, slowly shutting the door behind you, his body looking strangely large where he’s perched on the small loveseat in your living room. Everything in your apartment seems too small for him - or just too small in general - and it’ll be a nice change to live in a house where you can hold gatherings of more than 5 people without feeling like sardines in a can.

“Har,” you call, reaching down to tug the ends of your dress just a bit further down your thighs as you step further into the living room, bare feet padding against the plush rug your parents had gotten you as a Christmas gift the year prior. “What do you think of the dress?” You can hear the click of his phone as he turns it off, dropping it on the cushion beside him, and heat creeps up your cheeks as his gaze turns to you - you should feel self conscious, the way his eyes roll up and down your body, drinking in every bit of your dress, but you fucking love it. Love the way his lips part into a small o and upturn into a grin, how he pushes himself to stand and close the distance between you two until he’s hardly two inches away from you, how he reaches down to pick up the end of your dress as though examining the fabric.

“Do you like it?” You question as Harry drops your dress, letting the fabric fall back down around your thighs. “Wasn’t sure if I did.”

“I love it,” he tells you, immediate and forceful and you can tell he means it with his whole chest - maybe you love it, too. “Y’look beautiful.”

“You don’t think it’s too simple, do you?” Maybe you’re fishing for more compliments but you allow yourself to do it shamelessly. “It was my graduation dress - remember?”

“I do remember,” Harry grins, tugging at the bottom of your dress, and keeping his hands busy is a nervous habit of his that you’ve grown to recognize from a hundred miles away, but you can’t think of why, exactly, he’d be nervous now. “Looked so pretty, walkin’ across tha’ stage. I was so proud.”

You smile, gaze dropping down to where his fingers are fiddling with the skirt of your dress, and you think you’ll wear this dress every single goddamn day if he reacts as positively to it as he is now. “You sound like my dad.”

His nose scrunches when you look back up at him, and your heart twists inside your chest. “Don’ make it gross.” You simply shrug, bringing your fingers up to drum against his shoulders through the fabric of his Fleetwood Mac shirt, his muscles flexing ever so slightly beneath your touch. “M’being serious, though. I love the dress. Y’make the prettiest bride on the planet - m’a lucky man, aren’t I.”

From the moment you walked out of your room you’ve been feeling heat burning your cheeks but it doesn’t stop you from gently smacking his shoulder. “Stop it - you’re gonna make me blush.”

“Looks like y’already are, Mrs. Styles.”

Should that name make your stomach as topsy-turvy as it does? 

You shake your head, smoothing your palms over the front of your dress to both eradicate the wrinkles that adorn the fabric and to wipe off the sweat cropping up on your hands. You don’t think you’ve ever been so nervous around Harry before and you can’t quite place your finger on why, but it’s getting more difficult to look him in the eye with your heart pounding as fast as it is. “I’m not gonna be Mrs. Styles for another week.” 

Harry exhales softly, fingertips tapping against your hip and you hadn’t even realized how close his hands were to that spot of your body - but it feels comforting, his touch on an oddly intimate part of you. “I can’t wait,” he says, and you can’t, either. “Makin’ me a very lucky groom, babe.”

Hearing him call you babe could make you go crazy if you focus on it for too long, so you don’t - and it’s hard to focus on much other than Harry himself as his head drops down, forehead pressed to yours, and oh God you can smell his fucking gum, and if you tilt your head up ever so slightly -

Is he going to kiss you? You think your heart will explode but you’ve never wanted anything more so you tilt your head up, just a bit, grip tightening on his shoulder, and you can feel his breath growing warmer against your face -

The sound of Harry’s phone ringing in his pocket snaps you out of your haze.

“Fuck,” he mutters, hands dropping off your hips, and your head drops downwards with a soft groan. It was so close. You could feel his breath against your face and how did that fucking opportunity pass you by? - “S’my mum. Fuck - m’sorry.” And you’re not sure if he’s apologizing for the call or what had (or, rather, had not) happened but it doesn’t matter.

One glance at the phone he’s tugged out of his pocket shows that he’s right - Anne’s contact photo smiles up at you and you give Harry a small nod, faking the smile you’re not feeling, before taking a step back against your plush carpet as he turns around, back to you, phone pressed to his ear.

“I’m gonna change,” you whisper to no one in particular. Harry’s head turns just a bit so you can catch the apologetic look on his face before he’s loudly greeting Anne, and you’ve never liked eavesdropping on their calls. So you turn and head to your bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind you and turning to stare at yourself, wide-eyed, in your mirror.

He almost kissed you.

He didn’t - but would he have? If Anne hadn’t rung him - would he have leaned down, breathing shaky, like how it always is when he’s nervous, and ever so gently pressed his lips to yours? And you would’ve known exactly how it feels to be kissed by him, whether it would be as dream-like as all the times you’ve dreamt of it. His hands on your hips, yours on his shoulders, bodies slotted together until your hands are roaming and you’re pushing him on to the couch, sliding into his lap and his hands would roam to your thighs -

It doesn’t do well to think about it now. You don’t want to get yourself too worked up about it - that doesn’t do anyone much good - and you don’t want to take too long to change. So you inhale a soft breath, smooth your clammy palms back over the front of your wedding dress, and you allow yourself one final glance in the mirror at the attire you’ll be donning in a week’s time before reaching around to your back, fiddling with the zipper until you can begin to tug it down.

 --

 You and Harry haven’t talked too much since you showed him your dress, and it’s probably not very great etiquette for an engaged couple, but you two have never been normal anyway.

He sent you a picture of the suit he’s wearing and it’s as every bit unconventional as your excuse of a wedding dress, and you told him that - how you would be a pair for the books, the opposite of what a regular married couple looks like. And you texted him just yesterday and asked if he would make you two a reservation at your favourite restaurant for dinner after the elopement (he always tended to get the nicer tables, and you don’t pretend not to know why) and he sent you back two thumbs-up emojis in response.

You’re getting married in three days, though. It would probably be best to talk about it with him before you cross that bridge but it’s never been one of your stronger areas, so you leave it be for now.

“Are you alright?” Your friend questions, tilting her head in so you can hear her against the thumping music of the club. Your friends had insisted on dragging you out for a bachelorette party the second they hard of your engagement and it would be out of character for you to refuse a night of drinks on them - even if you’d rather stay home and think about Harry and all the things you should’ve done when he was at your apartment. Getting drunk out of your mind does seem preferable to wallowing, though, now that you’re out and about and well on your way to getting smashed - so you turn to Olivia and nod once, a simple jerk of your head.

“I’m fine,” you tell her, reaching over to grab the cocktail Amy had gotten for you and bringing the straw to your lips. “Just thinking about Harry.”

Amy snorts from her spot across the booth, dipping her finger into her empty shot glass and licking up the droplet she collected. “Can’t believe it took you two so long to get together.”

“And I can’t believe you didn’t tell us about it,” interjects Olivia, reaching over to grab your glass out of your hand and taking a sip of your drink. “How long have you two been together again?”

Fuck. You’re in the grey area between being tipsy and being drunk and you can’t remember how long you and Harry had claimed to be together. Was it a year or two years? You think it’s a year - you’d wanted to go as low as possible with your answer. Did we say six months? That seems too low. “I’ve liked him since I’ve known him,” you answer instead, which is absolutely the truth, and Amy and Olivia are both too drunk to ponder about your evasion of the question. “Loved him, even.”

Your fingers brush against your phone, sitting on the table face down, as your friends playfully swoon - the last time you’d texted Harry was to tell him you were going to the club, and you hadn’t checked to see if he responded. It’s always been a habit between the two of you to text where you’re going, in case something happens, which seems oddly barbaric at times but you’ve always appreciated it.

“You’re so lucky,” Amy informs you, reaching across the booth to intertwine your fingers. She gets sappy when she’s drunk and you can tell from the distinct crack in her voice that she’s mere seconds away from bursting into tears and professing how much she loves you and Olivia - you don’t ever quite enjoy being around to see that. “I mean, really. You and Harry - we always knew it would happen -”

“I should call him real quick,” you mumble, watching as her eyes water over, and Olivia rolls her eyes with a grin as she scoots around the other side of the booth so Amy can throw her arms around her. You grab your phone and push yourself out of the booth, maneuvering through the crowd of people until you’ve reached the bathroom.

It's a single stall and the club is small enough that you only have to wait a minute or two before a thoroughly shitfaced woman stumbles out of the bathroom, a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of her shoes, but she’s gone before you can point it out to her. You brush it off with a shrug and shut the door behind you once you’re inside the bathroom - it smells like Febreze and mint soap, and the scent of the mint reminds you of Harry’s breath and you really need to call him, don’t you.

You’re scrolling through your call log before you can wonder if calling your best friend who you’re in love with while you may be quite drunk is a bad idea - the phone is ringing just as you begin to - and he’s picked it up just when you realize you’ve made a mistake.

“Hey, babe,” Harry says from the other end, voice crackling with the poor reception in the club. He sounds groggy and raspy and you can tell you’ve either woken him up or he’s trying to go to sleep, and you don’t actually know what time it is, you realize. “What’re you up to?”

“I’m at a club,” you tell him, and you can hear his soft exhale of air and you can practically picture the slow smile spreading across his lips. “I’m out with Amy and Olivia - they wanted to take me out for a bachelorette party or something - s’kinda dumb, I dunno -”

“Are y’drunk? S’just, you’re slurrin’ a lot -”

“I’m tipsy,” as you sit back on the closed toilet seat, fingernails digging into your thigh. You don’t actually know what you’d called him to say but four days without talking to Harry seems like it’s setting some sort of record and you hate it. “Just wanted to call because - um - well, I miss you.”

For a second you think the call may have broken up - you can’t hear much beside his soft breathing, and you pull the phone away to check if it’s still connected. But then he sighs softly, and you’re quick to press your phone back to your ear. “I miss y’too, m’love - ‘course I do.”

“That’s sweet.” You hum softly, kicking your toes against the tiled bathroom floor. “I thought you might be mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Dunno,” you shrug. “That’s why I was confused. But you haven’t texted me much.”

You can fucking sense him rolling his eyes. “Well, y’didn’t text me either. I thought you were mad at me -”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about what happened the other day,” you interject, and you know you wouldn’t be telling him this if you weren’t teetering more towards being drunk instead of tipsy, “and I really wanted to kiss you, you know. I mean, I thought you were going to - and then it didn’t happen.”

“Well, m’mum called.”

“Would you have done it if she didn’t?”

There’s a pause for only the briefest of seconds before Harry says, “‘Course I would have.”

Your heart flutters inside your chest and you lean your head back against the wall, nails digging further into your thigh and it’s difficult to hold back the grin that threatens to split your goddamn face in two. God, he would have. He would have kissed you - does he love you like how you love him? It seems fucking unreal, like something you’d dream up in your deepest sleep. You’d never thought Harry would ever feel the same way, even as you got a fucking marriage license together and planned out the dinner you’d eat after your elopement and -

You can’t think of a single other one of your friends who would fucking marry you for any reason, house or no house, life or death. And who would you do it for? Not Amy, not Olivia, even if they asked you nicely. It’s a commitment - a huge one - one that you wouldn’t be willing to do for anyone.

But you’d do it for Harry, in a heartbeat. You know you would. You’d have the fucking dress on before he could finish asking, and isn’t that what you had done, really? He hadn’t had to convince you much at all. You’d been willing from the get-go.

“Really?” Your voice is barely a breath, a soft exhale of air, reeking of the giddy joy you’re feeling at his proclamation. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Y’know I never lie to you.” Harry sounds nearly offended at the mere idea. “You are m’fiance. Comes with a code of conduct.”

You roll your eyes, and just then there’s a loud knock against the door - you jump violently, phone nearly slipping from your grasp. For a minute you’d forgotten you’re in a club bathroom and you know you’ve been here far too long to be appropriate - you’ll give yourself just one more minute to talk to Harry. “What about when we get divorced? Gonna lie to me then?”

“Always talkin’ about the divorce,” he murmurs, and his voice sounds so full of adoration that you’re nearly overwhelmed by it. “D’you have such little confidence about the strength of our relationship?”

If it were up to you, you’d be with Harry forever - but you can’t tell him that, not yet. “It’s not as though it’s a traditional relationship, you know. I don’t think most marriages that began for the sake of a house inheritance last too long,” you smile, feeling heat burning up your face even if he can’t see you. “Just generally speaking.”

“Hope y’got the statistics t’back that one up -”

Another louder knock shakes you again, and you jump up as though someone had set you aflame. Your phone nearly slips out of your clammy grasp once more and you clear your throat, lowering the device to your shoulder and calling, “Just a second!” to whoever’s waiting impatiently outside. You raise your phone back to your ear and clear your throat again. “I’ve gotta go, Har. I’m in the bathroom at the club - been in here a bit too long.”

“Aright,” Harry says, and you can hear soft shuffling from the other end, audio still crackled by the reception. “Breakfast tomorrow?”

You tilt your head to the side, scrunching your nose up before remembering he can’t see you. “I think it’s tradition for the bride and groom not to see each other before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Now you’re a stickler for tradition?”

“I’ll see you at the courthouse, Har,” you tell him, before pulling the phone from your ear and hanging up. For a second you can’t move, staring down at Harry’s contact in your phone with a giddy grin that surely makes you look like some child in a candy store - and, in a way, you are - and it’s only a third knock at the bathroom door that has you scrambling out the door, giving an apologetic grin to the girl waiting impatiently.

 --

 Being married - for the record - doesn’t feel too much different than before.

There’s a shiny ring on your finger that Harry had bought, and when you glance across the table where he’s sitting, clutching his menu, you can see the similar wedding ring on his left hand - it’s simplistic and small and contrasts with the rest of his clunky rings and it makes you feel strangely warm inside when you spend too long looking at it. And, even after you and Harry had talked at the club, your ‘post-elopement’ dinner doesn’t feel entirely different than all of the other dinner dates you’d shared before the entire situation began. It’s familiar and sweet and his ankle is hooked around yours under the table, forcing a permanent heat onto your cheeks.

Harry rests his menu on the table, fingertips drumming against the laminated paper, and you similarly drop yours to look at him. “Think m’gonna get the spaghetti.”

It’s a testament to the slight air of awkwardness surrounding you both that the only thing he can think to talk about is the food he’s getting - but you’ll play along. “I like the raviolis,” you tell him. “Think I’ll get those.”

He hums softly, pushing his menu further into the table. “Can y’believe tha’ we’re married? I can’t. Seems so weird.”

“Doesn’t feel that different,” you disagree, toes tapping against his ankle beneath the table. “It’s not like we didn’t go out for dinner together before we got hitched.”

“We’re playin’ footsies under the table, babe.”

You grin down at your napkin, resting on your lap on top of your wedding dress. “Be careful or I’ll kick you, Har.”

His ankle tightens just a bit around yours beneath the table and you could watch that small smile spreading across his face for the rest of your life. “Y’wouldn’t dare - don’t y’love me?”

Yes, you do, so you resist the urge to unhook your ankle from around his and deliver a swift kick to his calf - just rest your palms on the table, scratching lightly at the rustic wood of the table. It’s hard for you to even pretend to be mad at him when all you can think about is how much you want to climb over the table and straddle him - as his wife you suppose it isn’t an insane thought, and you’re nearly certain he’s feeling the same way. Hadn’t he told you he would have kissed you if he hadn’t been called by Anne? Maybe you’ll get a chance to do it again - later. You’ll never give up the opportunity again.

“When d’you get t’move into the house?” Harry questions, leaning in just a bit in his seat. 

“A few months, I think.” You shrug. “Reckon I’ll start redecorating before then, though. I’m already looking at furniture - I’ve gotta save up for most of it, though. Might sell my apartment before then.” There’s a pause, and then you shrug once more, picking at a crack in the table. “I’ll probably move back in with my parents.”

Harry’s eyebrows are raised when you glance up at him, fingers paused in their drumming on the menu. “Are y’kidding? We’re married. You can move in wit’ me.”

“I can’t ask you to do that -”

“Not asking, are you? Even if we didn’t just elope at a courthouse, you’re still m’best friend. Can’t have you moving in t’your mum’s basement.”

You smile softly, flattening your palms against the table and craning your neck to examine the ring - proof that it had really happened, that you’re really married. It still doesn’t feel quite real, no matter how many times you and Harry casually talk about it. “Was gonna live in her attic, actually.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’ll pay f’the furniture, too. Don’t look at me like tha’ - s’our house. Needs t’be ready f’when we move in.”

You hesitate, trying poorly to conceal the way your grin is arching further upwards at the mere prospect of what he’s hinting at. Living with Harry? Jesus, even if you weren’t in love with him, living with him sounds like an absolute dream, only made better by your feelings for him. And picturing walking through an Ikea, searching for furniture, feeling his arm around your shoulders as you two look online for decorations - if heaven were a place on Earth, it would be your Aunt Alice’s estate, soon inhabited by you and your husband. “Well, we’ll talk about it, alright?” you land on as your response. 

For a moment, neither of you say anything, and the silence isn’t as stifling with awkwardness as it had been before. Then Harry reaches over, resting his hand overtop of yours, fingers instinctively intertwining, and your heart nearly splits itself in two - he initiated it, holding your hand, and maybe you shouldn’t feel so surprised but you can’t fucking help it. Your scalp is tingling and you swear your eyes are going to bubble over and his hand feels just as soft and beautiful as you’d expected - as you’d always dreamed of.

You’re not sure when, exactly, there would ever be a better time to tell him than now, so you clear your throat and squeeze his hand and confess, “I’ve liked you for a really long time, Har.”

Sharing your feelings isn’t necessarily your strongest spot but you’re feeling egged on by absolutely everything, and the way Harry brushes his thumb against your palm encourages you to continue. “I mean - since we met, basically - but I never told you. Never thought you would like me back.”

“I did,” he interjects, and you look up at him with furrowed brows. “Liked you back, I mean. Clearly - hope y’didn’t think I’d run off an’ marry anybody this fast.”

“I just thought you were being nice.”

“You’re silly, then.”

“A real idiot,” you proclaim, rubbing soft circles into the back of Harry’s hand, and you swear you’ll never let go unless someone fucking rips you away. “Guess I should’ve figured it out, then - seems like we did everything in the wrong order, right?”

Harry snorts, a noise that draws the slightest attention from an older couple sitting at a table beside you, but neither of you pay them any attention. “Get married first, fall in love second.”

“I was already in love,” and you’re not sure why, exactly, you had said that but it feels right and true falling off your tongue so you decide, pointedly, not to regret it.

There’s no hesitation when Harry responds, voice laced with the authenticity you’re so desperately craving - “Reckon I was, too.” You barely get a minute to process that and how it’s making your stomach do flips and turns like an Olympic medalist before he’s standing up, fingers still interlocked with yours to pull you up with him. “How d’you feel ‘bout a sleepover tonight?”

“A sleepover?”

He barely looks at you as he fishes through the pocket of his dress pants to pull out his wallet. “Not like we haven’t had them before.”

That’s true - you’ve slept over at Harry’s house so many times, it’s like a second home to you - but you have a distinct idea that, based off of your previous conversation and the wedding rings shining on both of your fingers, this sleepover will be just a bit different. 

“Skipping out on the reservation, then?” you question, squeezing Harry’s hand as he tosses a $50 onto the table - a significant overkill for your lemonade and his Coke but you suppose he’s feeling rather generous today. “I am rather hungry.”

“We’ll eat at my house,” he insists, leading you through the maze of tables with a grip that’s so tight, you wonder if he’s having the same qualms as you are about never letting go. “Y’like pizza, don’t you?”

 --

 You’ve been in Harry’s house more times than you can count, but it’s never been like this.

His hand is still firm in yours and it’s a feeling you adore - even if his palm has gotten clammier with every second, every step you took closer to his front door, and you can practically smell the nervousness rolling off of him. It’s not unlike the worry that’s overtaken you because you’re not quite sure what he’s expecting - only know what you want to happen and you pray to any god above that your desires align with his.

The sound of Harry shutting the door is the only crack of noise burning through the otherwise thick silence surrounding you. Neither of you had known what to say and the car ride was taken in comfortable silence, hands clasped and heads bobbing to soft music playing on the radio, but being in his house is different - there’s no music, no excuse for Harry to keep his eyes off of you, nowhere to lean your head and pretend to be resting your eyes while your heart uncontrollably thumps against your chest.

In ways, it’s better. Most ways, in fact.

Slowly, you turn to face Harry, fingers drumming against the back of his hand. His breathing is heavy and his eyes never leave yours, and you’re reminded remarkably of trying on your dress for the first time in front of him and your position hadn’t been too unlike this one - maybe now you can do it right.

It feels entirely natural, tilting your head up until you can easily slot your lips to Harry’s. They’re soft and plump and he kisses you back with a vigor you hadn’t quite expected - deepening it before you have the chance to react, his free hand that’s not clutching yours roaming to your neck and you can’t ignore the way your stomach flips at the feeling of his hand on your throat. But then his hand keeps moving up, palm pressing to your cheek in such a sweet gesture that doesn’t at all match the intensity with which he’s slipping his tongue into your mouth - your hand lands on his waist, gripping the flowy material of his dress shirt, pulling his body as close to yours as you can get.

You only pull away to catch your breath, grip tightening on his shirt to ensure he won’t move away - you need him close to you, need to feel his body against yours - the bulge near his thigh that you can feel against your pelvis, hardening with every second that passes.

“Why’d you move?” Harry questions, voice soft and vulnerable and you can’t help but lean up and land another kiss to his mouth. 

“Had to breathe, Har,” you murmur, smoothing your hands against his waist and the wrinkles you’ve surely created in the fabric. His fingers brush the edge of your jawline and you can feel your skin growing goosebumps beneath his touch.

He simply hums in response, ducking his head down to kiss you again. It’s sweeter this time, soft and fluffy but you don’t want that now - God, you want his hand around your neck and his knee between your thighs but perhaps that’ll have to wait for another time. You’re needy for just about anything you can get and if that’s sugary sweet kisses, a touch so gentle you could trick yourself into believing it isn’t there, then you’re more than grateful.

Harry’s teeth dig into your bottom lip, hard enough to have you moaning into his mouth and your nails dig into his through his shirt - the resulting whine into your mouth has you smirking against his lips, pushing your hips further into his. It’s the clearest way you can think of to tell him that you need him beyond kisses and touches.

“Jesus,” he breathes and you can feel his cock, twitching against your thigh and it’s a sensation you never thought you’d be able to experience outside of your deepest dreams - it feels twice as good as you’d imagined. “Gonna make me go crazy, babe.”

That’s exactly what you want.

“Hey,” and you pull away from him, his forehead dropping against yours, his breath still hot on your face, “don’t we have to fulfill the tradition of consummating the marriage?”

He laughs, a loud exhalation of air rather than his true barking laugh, but you smile anyway at the sound. “S’not the middle ages - no one’s expecting us to, if y’don’t want to.”

“Of course I want to.” Harry’s hand slides backwards into your hair, pulling the strands into a ponytail and tugging and your resulting moan has him smirking like a smug bastard against your lips. “God, Har. I really want to.”

It seems that that was the exact response he’d wanted - you get one last lingering kiss to your lips before Harry’s pulling away, hand falling away from your hair and other still interlocked with your own. You don’t have a second to question where, exactly, he’s leading you but then he’s tugging you through the foyer and down the halls and up the staircase you’ve grown to know so well - the trek to his bedroom has never seemed so viciously long until now, but by the time Harry swings open the door, you feel as though you’ve been walking for hours instead of barely a minute.

“On the bed, babe,” he directs you, all raspy tone and dominance lacing every last syllable and you can’t ignore the gush of arousal you can feel rushing straight to your core. It’s the stuff that makes up dreams, really, his fucking voice, and you know just the four simple words would be enough to get you off for years from now. “C’mon.”

You wouldn’t dream of disobeying - your footsteps are nearly completely silent on the carpet as you walk over to the end of Harry’s bed, pushing yourself up to sit on the plush duvet, sinking into the mattress that feels like an absolute cloud compared to the rock you’re used to sleeping on. For a brief second, he doesn’t move - just stands and stares at you, chest heaving through the baby blue dress shirt that your needy grasp had wrinkled. Then he moves, shutting the door with a barely perceptible click before making his way over to you, gazing up at him with heat blazing in your eyes.

Perhaps you’re expecting him to push you onto the bed, to fulfill the dominant tone he’d held before, so it is a bit of a surprise to see your best friend (your husband) dropping to his knees before you, fingertips ever so gently trailing up and down your calves.

The bedroom is so silent, save for your panting breaths and Harry’s shaky ones and you reckon he may be more nervous than you are - you’d expected him to handle all of the confidence between you two but his fingers are shaking as he pulls off your heels, resting them side by side on the carpet at the end of the bed. Chills crop up over your skin as his gentle touch roams up your legs, landing on your knee, and your breath hitches in your throat as the man you’ve loved for nearly 5 years leans in, lips landing a soft kiss to the top of your calf.

This isn’t what you had expected - him fucking worshipping you, on his knees - you’d never pictured it in a million years. And maybe it’s proof of the difference between him and the other guys you’d been with - your ex-boyfriends and flings had always been worried about their pleasure, never paying you any attention, and Harry couldn’t be closer to the end of the spectrum. Your entire body feels warm beneath his watchful gaze and touch, how he brings one hand up to snap firmly when your eyes flutter shut. 

“Look at me,” Harry directs, and despite the slight strain in his actions, his words still hold a never-faltering dominance that he’d had before. “C’mon, babe. I don’ want you to look away from me - can y’do that?”

It’s a task that’s easier said than done, but you nod anyway, swallowing thickly as Harry redirects his attention back to your legs. His hand, resting delicately on your left knee as though you’d break if he put too much pressure, slides down the length of your leg until he’s grasping your ankle, kneading the soft skin in his grasp while his lips linger at the top of your knee.

Using his grip on your ankle, Harry hoists your leg up onto the bed without warning, your toes digging into the end of the bed - uses his other hand to push your thigh outward so you’re on display for him like a goddamn feast and his smug grin proves that he can see just how wet you are, soaking through the white lace panties you’d chosen for the occasion. Heat blooms up your cheeks as he presses an open mouthed kiss to your thigh, teeth grazing your soft skin, and then he gives a dramatic inhale and - that’s -

You reach down, bracing both palms on the side of his face and forcing your husband (husband!) to look at you in the eye. He looks confused by your interjection and apologetic and that isn’t what you were going for but you hadn’t expected him to want to eat you out - most guys didn’t.

“You don’t have to do that, Har,” you murmur, giving a pointed glance to your lap that he’s been eyeing like it’s his dessert. “I won’t be mad.”

And Harry looks almost offended by the prospect of not wanting to, like you’d insulted him - “I want to. D’you not want me to?”

“Yes,” you reply, your voice hardly above a breath, and when he begins to pull away you continue. “No! I mean - yes, I want you to.”

He grins, wide and toothy and reminding you of exactly why you’d fallen for him in the first place, and you settle back into your spot on the bed with your nerves almost completely eradicated. He wants to - he’s not doing it because he feels obligated - it’s already a step up from any other guy you’d ever been with.

Fingers trail up your thighs as Harry’s lips close around the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, cheeks hollowing as he sucks a deep purple hickey, and you lift your hips just a bit so he can hook his fingers in the waistband of your panties and begin to tug them down. The crotch area is practically dripping with your arousal and it takes a bit more force to tug it away from your cunt but once they’re gone, Harry grabs your ankle again and straightens out your leg, making it easier for him to tug the offending material down your body and toss them away from the bed before resting your foot back on the edge.

You can hear his shaky breathing as he pulls his lips away from your thigh, thumb smoothing over the mark he’d left as if to prove it exists. You’d get it fucking tattooed if you could - to forever commemorate this experience - his mark in such a secretive place, just a breath away from where you need him most.

“Jus’ - jus’ tell me if y’want me t’stop,” Harry tells you, eyes interlocking with yours once more, and you jerk your head up and down once. “Lean back f’me, then - not too far, jus’ a bit - still need t’see you.”

So you lean back, propping yourself up on your arms, a barely reclined position from how you’d been sitting before. It’s easier to see him as he grabs the hem of your dress, tugs it up just a bit, but when you lift your hips so he can pull it out from under your ass he doesn’t comply - well, perhaps he has other plans with it, doesn’t want the dress to come off just yet, and you can respect that.

The time it takes for Harry to duck his head beneath your dress, tongue flicking against your overly sensitive folds, seems like fucking years even if it’s hardly a second, but when he does your hips instinctively jerk forward into his mouth. His eyes are flashing when he looks up at you and you breathe out a stream of apologies, heart thumping in your chest, fingernails digging into the comforter beneath you. “Don’ move,” he directs, and you nod again and again and you don’t stop until his lips close in around your clit.

Your head drops back with a low moan as Harry’s teeth graze your clit, cheeks hollowing as he sucks the sensitive nub like it’s what he was born to do. The bottom of your dress covers the top of his head so you can’t see what he’s doing - you have no idea what his next move is and it makes the pleasure rolling through your body that much better.

“Fuck - fuck, Har -” the only two words you can think to moan roll off your tongue like a mantra, your back arching upwards despite his warning not to move but he doesn’t mention it - just drags one hand up, fingertips light and dancing on your thighs until he can splay his forearm across your lower stomach, effectively pinning you to the bed. Your hand moves from digging into the sheets to digging into his scalp, tugging at the loose strands of hair that smell ever so slightly of gel and it makes your heart swell to imagine him putting product in his hair for the elopement - but before you have time to dwell on the sweetness of the sentiment, that talented tongue is licking a thin stripe up your folds before flicking your clit and you’re brought back to reality. “Fuck.”

“Feel good?” Harry mumbles, muffled where his face is pressed firm to your pussy and the vibrations of his words reverberate against your clit, sending a chill up your spine, and you let out a low whine at the sensation. 

“Yes,” you breathe in return, tugging at his hair just a bit, the strands forming a makeshift ponytail like he’d done to you before. “Feels so good, Harry, god -”

His head pulls back just a bit, hem of your dress dropping to just the tip of his nose so you can see his eyes - smug and glinting and you’re sure that, if you could see his mouth, those lips would be upturned into a smirk and practically dripping with your arousal - but he goes back in just as soon as he’d pulled out, burying his face in the apex of your thighs and you collapse back against the bed with a shout.

Whatever order he’d given you to maintain eye contact disappears. It isn’t as though you can see his eyes anyway, and you couldn’t stop yours from rolling back into your head if you tried. Ecstasy rolls through your body and, God, you know you’re close already, thighs tensing under where Harry’s palm kneads the soft skin, hard enough that you’re sure you’ll see bruises tomorrow. Your cunt clenches and flutters around the emptiness you’re yearning to get rid of and your back arches up again, Harry’s restraint on your torso not enough to stop it now, and you’re so fucking close.

“Harry -” you moan, digging your fingernails into Harry’s scalp and relishing in his responding moan to your clit - “gonna cum, Har -”

He doesn’t say anything - but you can feel his tongue continuing its work, up and down your folds and circling your clit and that’s response enough. Your hips jerk into his face, back arching as you grasp his hair tight enough that it has to fucking hurt but then you’re cumming and -

“Oh, fuck!”

Your voice is high pitched, cracked with a desperate sob right in the middle of your words before you’re holding Harry’s head to your pussy, his tongue working your clit like he was born for it, his low moans muffled against you. The hand previously holding down your torso slides up your body until he can shove his hand into the top of your dress, tugging it down so your chest is. He plucks at your nipple before grasping your tit, full in his palm, and the added stimulation prolongs your orgasm, hips rolling against Harry’s working mouth.

You can’t see straight when Harry pulls his head out from the bottom of your chest but when your vision focuses you’re beyond thankful. His chin is glistening with your arousal, tongue poking out to lap at the moisture on his lips and he dons that shit-eating grin you’ve grown to know so well. You usually see it when he wins a board game or when you’re celebrating something - seeing it on his face after he’s finished giving you the best orgasm you’ve ever gotten is certainly different but not unwelcome by anyone’s standards.

There’s a second where all you do is lie back and catch your breath - staring up at the ceiling above you, chest heaving as the aftershocks race through your body. Harry, meanwhile, pushes himself to his feet, muttering a small groan about God, m’fuckin knees and gettin’ too old for this, aren’t I?

Lazily you hold your hand out towards him, wiggling your fingers, and he reaches out to interlock your fingers again. “How was that?” he questions, voice soft and almost insecure and it’s a sharp contrast from the dominance he held before, but you know it’ll come back.

“I think you’re a natural at that, Mr. Styles,” you tell him, squeezing his hand in reassurance as you pull him closer to you until his knees hit the bed and he’s forced to collapse on top of you, grin cracking onto his face. “Gonna undress me?”

“‘Course,” Harry murmurs, leaning down to place a brief kiss to your lips, but before you can lift your head to deepen it he’s rolling off of you, shifting onto his side and shuffling upwards so his head rests on the stack of pillows. You raise your eyebrows at him - it isn’t as though he can take your dress off from that position - but, as though he can read your mind, he raises his hand and pats his lower stomach pointedly. “Climb up, babe.”

For what seems like the millionth time today, you can feel heat pulsing in your cheeks but you hope it doesn’t show - just sit up, swing your legs around so you’re straddling Harry, hands on his chest and gazing down at him like the God he seems to be. His hair is splayed out on the pillows beneath him, bottom lip tugged between his teeth, and you can’t help yourself - lean down to land your lips to his again, and this time both of you allow it to deepen. His hand starts at your cheek like it had before but you reach for it, fingers wrapping around his wrist and maneuvering it downwards until his palm is wrapped around the column of your throat, and he squeezes once experimentally.

You moan softly, hips rolling against the pointed bulge in his dress pants, and Harry’s eyebrows raise. “No fuckin’ way,” he breathes, squeezing again just to hear the way your breath catches. “Gonna be th’fuckin’ death f’me.”

You’re fine with that, and you reckon he is too.

You reach behind you, tapping along your back until you can reach the zipper. You’ve only tugged it down an inch or two before Harry’s free hand replaces yours, dragging the zipper down as far as it can go before reaching for the bottom of the dress. It’s gone in an instant - tossed off the edge of the bed, to be worried about later - and you can feel his fingers fumbling with the clasp of your bra before it comes undone, and then you’re naked.

You’d expected yourself to feel more embarrassed, or perhaps just nervous, and maybe it’s the effects of your previous orgasm but you’re feeling surprisingly calm - or maybe it’s how Harry looks up at you like you’re some sort of goddess sent from above, as though he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

It does wonders for your self esteem, truthfully.

“Gonna undress me, then?” Harry questions, hands smoothing up and down your thighs, eyes drinking in every bit of your exposed body on top of him.

You hum softly, pinching at the soft material of his shirt. “I don’t think so - want you to fuck me in your fancy clothes.”

“Well, if I’d known tha’ was an option -”

“Do you want me to put the dress back on?”

“No!”

You grin down at him before rolling your hips over his again, and it’s the last thing you manage to do before his grip lands on your hips and he’s flipping you over - your head lands dangerously close to hitting the headboard but it’s worth it, seeing him above you, fully clothed, pupils lust-blown and wide.

It hardly takes a second for Harry to undo the button to his pants and the sound of the zipper being undone is like music to your fucking ears - you spread your legs, letting him slot his body between them and oh, you can feel the tip of his fucking cock it’s right there and -

The first movement, Harry pushing himself inside of you, has you throwing your head back against the pillow, the moan coming from your throat mixing with a cry. He’s big - certainly bigger than you’d ever expected and bigger than any guy you’d been with - feels like he could split you in half if he wanted to but he stops, hands smoothing up and down your body, and you make a point of reaching for his hand and interlocking your fingers.

You’ll never grow tired of holding his hand, you think. Not for a while, anyway.

“How’re you doin’?” he questions, voice strained, and when your eyes shift back to him you can see the droplets of sweat beaded on his face. “Jus’ - jus’ tell me when, alright?”

“When,” you breathe almost immediately. You hadn’t needed too much time to adjust but you need him to move - you’re so pent up and you know it won’t take long to take you to your second orgasm but, God, he needs to fucking move. “Please, Har - please, fuck me.”

It doesn’t seem he needed much more encouragement than that. With one final move of wrapping his free hand firm around your neck and giving another small squeeze, Harry pulls out agonizingly slowly until just the tip of his cock remains in your heat. Just as you open your mouth to beg him to move again he slams back in with a force you hadn’t anticipated, your body rocking backwards of its own accord with the weight behind the thrust.

It’s exactly what you’d needed, though - fast and rough and his hand, cutting off your airflow just a bit, just enough to have you quivering beneath him. The low groan that rips out of his throat, reverberating through the humid bedroom has you pushing your hips up to his, trying to deepen where he’s buried inside of you to the hilt but you’re not sure how much deeper he could get. Feels like he could split you in half with every desperate thrust, every rut of his hips into yours and yours back into his.

“Oh - god - m’fuckin’ good girl, so tight around m’cock -”

Another rush of arousal gushes straight to your core with his filthy words and your head falls back into the pillow with a high whine, nails digging into the back of his hand as his other one tightens grip around your neck. It makes every desperate moan and cry that much airier and you can tell Harry likes it, staring down at you as his hips pound yours with absolutely no mercy and you don’t want any, anyway. It’s the subject of every single fantasy you’ve ever had about him, rough and hard and the sound of skin slapping skin overpowering your needy noises.

You’d never dreamt it would feel so good.

“Oh god, Harry!” Your eyes are rolling back into your head as your free hand trails down your stomach, shaking fingers focusing on your ignored clit and beginning tight circles around the nub. The jolts of pleasure that run through your body are - god, fucking amazing and you know you’re close, hardly need anything else to tip you over the edge. “Gonna - gonna cum, Har -”

It’s a testament to, perhaps, the long-growing tension between the two of you that his head drops backwards with a cry of me, too in a tone that’s so desperately vulnerable and it’s exactly what you’d needed - the reminder, in the midst of the rough thrusts and desperate moans, that this isn’t a one time thing. If you both allow it, it’s the rest of your life, just like this - and, God, you’ll allow it.

Your cunt clenches around your cock as you cum, eyes rolling back into your head and body spasming beneath him. In the midst of it Harry pulls out and you don’t get a second to question the sudden emptiness before you feel a familiar warmth hitting your lower stomach, and you open your eyes in time to see your husband, hand working at his cock as ribbons of cum spurt onto your stomach.

(You think you could cum again just from the sight but - well, you’ll hold back.)

His breathing is choppy and desperate, broken occasionally by a needy moan until he’s finished and he collapses on his back beside you, hands still intertwined with no intention of letting go. Nothing needs to be said - not yet - not for a little while, where you’ll talk about it more. 

A little while ends up merely being a minute or two before Harry swings his legs over the edge of the bed, hand still clasped in yours, and makes to stand up - it’s only your tightening grasp on his hand that forces him to stop, glancing behind him to look at you.

“Don’t,” you plead, throat already feeling sore and voice raspy. “Just - another minute, alright? Then clean up.”

He hums softly but you know he won’t resist the prospect of just a brief cuddle - one of the few things you hadn’t done often when you were just friends, because you knew that, if Harry held you as close to him as he is now, lips pressed to your forehead, you wouldn’t be able to resist telling him how you felt about him.

Doesn’t matter now, though. And his arms feel so warm around you, clammy palm still pressed to yours like a fucking couple in middle school but you wouldn’t dream of letting go. It’s all so - so peaceful, lying with him and listening to his heartbeat as you rest your head to his chest, listening to his heartbeat thumping as fast and hard as yours is.

And - well. Barely a month ago you were convinced your Aunt Alice was the worst woman in the world - a hypocrite and an asshole, set out to taunt you by lording your dream home over you and snatching it away when you couldn’t find a husband in time. But now? Feeling Harry, landing soft kisses again and again to your forehead, you figure she’s not so bad, after all.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #best friend!harry styles #loose ankles #lol #one of my fav things ive written #i got carried away during the smut.... sorry

[inkskinned]

When the honey showed up, we all just took it inside. That was one of the things about it - it was always a little warm, always in the same simple jar and the nice plaid bow. Handmade-like. Most of us put it in our pantries or in the back of our cabinets, some put it in the fridge. we just thought to ourselves: gee, what a wonderful present.

I don’t know how long it took before we all had one. For a while, the most that would happen was two-minute feel-good op ed pieces in local newspapers. People would run little letters to the editor to find out the “culprit”. Sometimes there were faux-serious “investigations” when that parent freaked out about the possibility of drugs in honey. Most of the time, it ended quickly. After all, it was a nice gift from a neighbor, and it was yours. that was another thing. A house could be 122 people, and we’d all find our own jar on the doorstep, one at a time. we would know when it was ours and when it wasn’t, no matter how alike they looked. nobody ate it, at first. It was yours, and you wouldn’t eat it, and you couldn’t eat another person’s. it just wasn’t done. and the thing is - in that imaginary house, of 122 people? we’d all buy other honey. it was both there and took up space - but none of us thought of it as actually existing. we’d put down our storebought honey right next to it and think - why did i buy another? i’ve wanted to try this one for a while. and then the thought would simply be out of our head, because this is our third bag of baby carrots we have bought to let spoil again.

it was that one person who mentioned it on youtube. actually i think it was a vimeo “urban legends” series. some person with 6 followers who deleted like instantly. but then 6 people said something similar: everyone they knew had this one specific honey story. and then 12. and then all of a sudden we all woke up to “#honeyonthedoorstep” globally trending. we all posted our pictures of our honey and called each other liars and got into discourse fights with vegans and people without a sweet tooth. In 24 hours, it was running the media. 9-at-night serious news anchors leaned over to each other and said “now john, did you hear about this?” and despite their disbelief, they’d admit: i got the honey too. I think somewhere in march. maybe around the 5th. but i never ate it or thought anything of it. i just thought - what a nice gift. 

By the end of the week, there were YouTube challenges and instagram memes and a netflix miniseries in the works. Lots of people tried to eat their honey, and most who “succeeded” were deemed a hoax - but truth be told? it’s not good tv to watch someone pick up honey and say “actually it’s not ready” or something similar and just decide to go do something else. i tried once, winedrunk and thinking i could be famous because it’s just honey. and i remember thinking that exact thing - it’s not ready. i realized i needed to go do dishes, this was stupid and kind of cringey. 

and people freaked out, of course. outside of the jokes were parents who were asking if their children would get a jar one day, if this was a one-time thing. there were so many conspiracy theories the government finally had to say something (not that any of us were actually listening), there were massive hunts to find “the team of honey dispatchers”, there were plenty of false confessions, there were rallies to destroy the things. i don’t know if anyone actually did, because in the end? it was just a jar of honey, and it was yours, and it would be a shame to throw it at the floor just because the internet told you so. I moved three times that year - grad school, job, other better job. i always took mine with me. it wasn’t a real choice, it was just... like taking a plate that belonged to your grandmother, or carrying a song stuck in your head. it was just something that was going to come with, but it bore no special attention. and then back into the pantry it went.

two weeks later? we all just... moved on from talking about honey. it was in some memes, it was in BuzzFeed’s “top 5 weirdest stories (that are actually true)”, it was going to be the central plot of books and horror movies. but it wasn’t interesting, not really, anymore. it was like saying “all people need food”. it was just true, and not really changing. every consecutive conspiracy video got less likes, and by the end of the year, it was old enough to be a staple in bad stand-up comedy and in coming-of-age children’s shows.

nobody believed the first ones who ate it. the most traction that those posts got were from friends and family who barely remembered the whole fad. we all just figured it was a weird annual resurgence kind of thing. 

but then people were definitely, absolutely, 100% eating their honey. i think i heard about one of my coworkers first. i didn’t know her; she was in another department. she told everyone it was very similar to “normal” honey. just a little tarter than she’d expected.

twitter was in an uproar. the honey was sweet to some. spicy to others. horrible, bitter, like a thousand stingers. it was perfect, it tasted like summer. most people said: it’s just honey, and absolutely regular.

those of us who weren’t ready were biting our fingernails for a while, going to our pantries, wondering - what the fuck do i mean it’s not ready? but it wasn’t ready.  

like i said, it’s warm, always. But you just... know. one day you realize you really want honey on toast. or honey on tea, honey on a banana, just... honey. i remember opening it, but it didn’t feel like any more interesting than going to the cabinet for honey ever feels. i pour mine, usually, skipping a spoon because i’m usually too lazy. i was already in the middle of my meal before i realized - this is the honey. it’s not just a normal breakfast, it’s the breakfast, holy shit. 

mine is just, you know. honey. it has a little hint of spice and sweet to it, which i actually quite like. it reminds me of this red pepper jelly my family used to get, and it makes me happy. but in the end? it’s honey. i don’t feel like i’m connected to a seventh realm. it’s good on oatmeal and bad in coffee no matter what some of you will tell me.

it’s just, you know. once you get your jar, and it’s ready, you have a little honey roughly every 24ish hours. it’s nothing absurd. it’s just honey, i mean - it’s like saying “you’re alive, so at some point, you should probably eat.” Most of us, it hasn’t really changed our schedules. it doesn’t seem to ever run out, which is good, because we’re always forgetting to check to see if we need more before we go shopping. for most of us? you don’t die if you miss a few days, even a few weeks, you don’t go crazy trying to get it back. sure, there’s weirdass cultists who worship it, but most of us just seem to think - it’s nice to have, and it’s okay to want this thing.

now, there’s some stuff out there, you know, about what it all “means”. and honestly, we all notice things. i’m not the only one who has seen that good people tend to think their honey tastes good and eat it normally. bad people tend to eat their honey frequently but hate every second of the eating. there are plenty who will snort and say “i’m a good person and i think it tastes like dirt” and plenty who will say “i’m a shit person and i think it tastes like the summer i finally kissed her”. and i don’t know, not the way i knew if it was ready, but it feels like a simple thing amidst all the messy. and it’s probably helpful that i think mine is, like most people’s, just a nice in-the-middle. i mean, the other day i heard it asked like a star sign - what’s your honey like?

there’s this one thing, though, you know. i choose to believe, because it might make me secretly happy. it’s like believing in nessie. i know realistically it’s probably just hearsay. but there’s this underground rumbling that, over time, the honey changes. just a little, every day, unnoticeable to most of us who go to work and do our best by others but still sometimes steal toilet paper. there’s these stories of people who made it rich by selling out their friends, who stole patents, who argue that others should charge for insulin - that they liked the honey, at first, but over time, it’s gone rotten. and similarly, every so often, there’s these stories of people who were normal “regular” honey people, who helped someone out of the bottom. who chose to be just a little bit better than they were the day before. who had moments of decisive kindness that changed them. they all say the same thing: since then, the honey has been amazing, and they work to keep it that way. 

my grandmother and my mother were never surprised. they have this saying about bees and their secrets. my mother said to me: we have always had these tiny angels. they’re just giving us each a taste of the world we are making.

my grandmother later tells me, while watering the flowers, almost the exact same thing: they will haunt us when they go, because they keep books in their combs. and they see us giants, and no matter who we lie to? the world of bees will know.

#spilled ink #prose #short story #honey #i originally wrote this in my car while binge eating doritos happy mardi gras style #but then tumblr deleted it lmao bc i walked between 2 wifi connections #so if it sucks its bc i had to half-remember a good version

[we-have-bangtan]

BCO (Bangtan Crime Org.)

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Theme: Mafia au, poly au, smut (later), fluff, sassy female lead.

Warning: Swearing, gore, blood, smut.

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2

______________________________________

___________________________________________

"So, what's the verdict?"

"Oh, she's totally lying. She didn't say a single true thing the entire time she was sitting there. I'm sure if you asked her what color the sky was she would say 'red'." Jin answered as the seven of them gathered inside Namjoon’s office.

“so what do we do now?”  Jimin asked, looking at the monitor, she didn’t even try to free herself considering the fact that they had tied her pretty loosely. 

“Yoongi hyung, I think you should go in” Namjoon answered, looking into the monitor as well, there was something suspicious about this girl, she didn’t speak and if she did all she did was lie, she didn’t try to escape, she wasn’t even mildly panicking over the fact that the plan to kill atleast one of them had fail. She just sat there with a blank expression. 

It irritated Namjoon, how calm she was, he watched patiently as Yoongi hyung went to get the work done, get the girl to tell them something. She was extremely young, younger than Jungkook who was 24 and sipping on banana milk while looking at the monitor as Yoongi came into view.

       “Hello little girl” Yoongi greeted, the girl huffed, “Take a seat, this is going to take a long time” she jested, jerking her head towards the empty chair across the table from her, “how kind of you” Yoongi retorted as he took the seat, she rolled her eyes at him. 

   He got comfortable, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his collar, “So, what’s your name?” he asked, no response, “well then I’ll go first, my name in Min Yoongi, I’m the right hand man” he continued but was quickly interrupted by the girl, “Didn’t your friend already tell you my name? aish, you guys are so boring” she snapped, “boring?” Yoongi questioned, he had actually got a name from Jin hyung but they weren’t sure if she was lying or not.

     “so you weren’t lying about that?” he asked, “of course not!” the girl said, her voice full of disbelief, So your name is actually Susan?”, “yes.”, “well that’s funny cuz Jin hyung told me your name was Mary” Yoongi retorted, a smirk taking over his features, “That’s my middle name” She answered, he breathed out a laugh at how hard she was trying, he would have pitied her if she hadn’t tried to kill them.

      “Why do you keep lying?” he asked as he got up from his seat, he really didn’t want to hurt this pretty girl but he had no choice, if he needed information he would have to hurt her. She didn’t answer hid question, “is it loyalty?” he asked as he got closer to her, picking up the knife on the table on the way.

      “Maybe.” she said, Yoongi ran a finger down the blade in his hand, “look, you tell me everything we need and we’ll let you go” he offered, “No.” was the answer he got, making him sign, “look, you don’t talk you get hurt, I doubt you want to get hurt” he warned looking her in the eye, she simply stared back at him before speaking again, “I like getting hurt”. The fuck, Yoongi thought, she was just like Jin hyung, no wonder Jin hyung had been so frustrated with only 10 minutes of her, but Yoongi wasn;t one to give up easily, he prided himself on his interrogation technique and he was going to get this girl to spill the beans.

___________________________________________________

                         OUTSIDE

____________________________________________________

“Do you think she’ll actually talk?” Taehyung asked, he could see why Jin hyung was so frustrated, having to interrogate someone who spoke just like him was difficult especially if they had Jin hyung’s way of deviating from the topic and a phd in the nonsense game. 

The six of them payed closer attention to the pictures taken of the girl, she refused to tell them her name, Jungkook had been the one to spot her in the dealership area, atop a building with a sniper gun pointed straight at Namjoon’s head, the girl was clearly very ambitious for wanting to get done with Namjoon first. 

        “I don’t know, maybe we didn’t pressure her enough yet” Hobi answered Tae’s question, they all looked at the reports that the mafia members had given them, looking for any and all ways that the girl could have come in through, they couldn’t find any loop holes in the guard places. 

 “She’s so fucking annoying, oh my God” Jin exclaimed as he went through what he had gotten from her (which was basically nothing except for wrong information), “Glad to know you understand what it is like to ask you questions” Jimin retorted with a snigger making Jin glare at him.

“There was someone else with her on the terrace but they got away, she was even looking for them when we were taking her away” Jungkook said over Jin and Jimin’s bickering, “Any clue what that person looks like?” Namjoon asked as he looked at the pictures, the girl was pretty, she probably was a master in the skill of seduction with looks like that. Long, wavy brown hair and jet black eyes complimented her face structure, she clearly had a lot of skills other than being a sniped considering the fact that she had managed to get to the top of the building without being detected. 

      “All I saw was their back, he was very muscular and then he vanished into the street” Jungkook recalled, thinking a little harder to remember any of the details, “oh and he was wearing a cast, you know the kind they wear when they have a sprained hand, that one” he informed Namjoon who just nodded, a sprain bandage was easy to remove and the muscular back could apply to more than half of the mafia industry. They’d just have to wait and see if the girl gave up any information.

_____________________________________

_____________________________________

“Now let us try again,” Yoongi coo’d pressing the knife to the girl’s thigh, “what is your name? and i want a real answer” he questioned, he watched the girl’s eyes shut with pain as the knife pierced her skin, it wasn’t a deep cut, just a slash to the top of her skin, not meant to kill, just to make her talk. 

       “That felt good, come on give me more” she choked out making Yoongi gape at her, was this girl insane or was she really into knife play to still be able to taunt him like this, he didn’t know anymore. He pressed his palm to the wound, blood coating his hand making her hiss, “your name darling” he asked again, pressing harder onto it. She shook her head, no, she was not going to talk to him yet. He just shook his head, pressing down harder onto the wound, her scream echoed through the room and outside as well making Jin wince outside.

  “Yn, my name is Yn” she finally gave in, Yoongi’s hand coming off of her wound, “now, that wasn’t so hard was it, you wouldn’t have had to experience all that had you just answered me” he jested as he wiped his hand off on a rag, the gold rings on his fingers glinting in the yellow glow of the bulb that hung above the two of them.   

           “Now, Yn, onto the next question, who sent you?” he asked staring down at her, she didn’t answer, she just looked down at her bleeding thigh, refusing to meet his eye, “Speak up dear, unless you want to get hurt” he said, taking a step towards her, she still didn’t speak, he asked again as he ran the blood stained knife from the base of her neck to her chin, he didn’t hurt her, no, he just wanted to instill the fear inside her, it would be a shame to have to slice such a pretty throat, he thought to himself as he waited for an answer, no answer, his swiftly sliced her collarbone, blood seeping out of the cut. The girl hissed but didn’t say anything. 

      “Is this what you were told to do? give up your life but not give up information, are you really that loyal?” he continued, “Do you really think someone will come for you Yn? do you think they’ll rescue you from us? do you think you’ll get out of here alive?” he bugged as he brought the knife down on the side of her face, another sleek cut on her cheek. “Go away, you’re annoying” she groaned, not even bothering to try anything,Yoongi just laughed at her. She really was loyal, a little too loyal, if he had a person like her in his gang, he would reward her greatly for being so loyal because loyalty was something that was very rare in the mafia business.

  “Ok then, why don’t you tell us how you got through our security instead” he offered, she contemplated for a moment before answering, “your security sucks, that’s how”, it pissed him off but he managed to keep his cool, “how so?” he asked, he genuinely wanted to know what was wrong with their security so he could chew Hobi out about it later. “Everything” she replied, “maybe be more specific,” he jabbed as he walked around the room when a sharp knock sounded on the door. “Come in” he permitted leading to Hoseok coming inside.

    The two of them exchanged hushed whispers before Hoseok left again. Yoongi leaned against the table looking at the girl, he really did feel pity for her now. “We got a message from your people” he said as he toyed with the knife, her head shot up at the information, were they negotiating with Bangtan for her? were they going to rescue her? were they coming to get her? hope ran through her as she thought all the possibilities.

           Yoongi looked back at her once Hoseok left the room, all he felt was pity for her but he wouldn’t show it on his face, nope. “They’re letting you go.” he informed watching as her eyes widened at the news, “look, just tell us what we need and we’ll let you go as well” he told her, he really did feel bad for the girl but he had a job which he was supposed to do.

            “No.” she said, looking down at the floor, how could they do this, why would they do this after everything she had done for them, they knew she would hunt them all down one by one once she got out, “why would they do that?” she pondered out loud, “Maybe because they don’t have faith that you’ll come out alive” he answered, watching as anger flared in her eyes, what ever the people who had sent in that message had done, they were going to pay for it dearly.

   “Well, how do you feel? to be abandoned just like that?” Yoongi asked, egging her anger on, “you know, being abandoned ever after being so loyal, I pity you, they don’t deserve your loyalty Yn, they don’t deserve it at all” he told her, it was the truth, being so loyal to the gang only to have them not be loyal to you hurt.

     Gang life was all about loyalty and this gang that Yn was from was clearly not loyal to its members. “I’ll talk, but -” she paused looking up from the floor, straight at Yoongi, “but what?” he asked, carefully leveling her up, “You need to let me up first, these ropes are giving me a burn” she said, a mischievous grin taking over her face.

     “And why would I do that when you came very close to killing Namjoon” he asked with a raised eyebrow, “because I have no reason to kill you anymore, I don’t kill without a purpose” she answered, a challenging look on her face, “give me a minute” he said heading to the door, “either you free me or I free myself dude” she said before he could leave the door. “Can I call my friends here atleast?” he questioned, feeling doubtful about what she was thinking, would she free herself and kill them all? did she have any other hidden weapons? was she capable of killing all of them and making it out alive? he thought about all this before she answered, “Sure, call all your men if you want, I’m harmless when I don’t want to kill.” she assured.

     Yoongi shrugged, heading towards the camera that was located, gesturing them to come inside the room, it only took a few moments for the six of them to file into the room, three guards waiting outside for any commands given.

   “Anneyonghaseyo!” Yn greeted the six of them who ignored her, quickly circling Yoongi to listen to what he had to say. They spoke in hushed voices, making sure Yn couldn’t hear them before Yoongi turned towards her again, the rest of the boys moving away from him, “We’ll free you but no funny business ok” he said as Jimin came forward to cut the ropes binding her. 

     “Aishh, I knew the seven of you were handsome, but not this handsome” she said as Jimin released her, moving away from her with caution, “Aish my beautiful hands” she said, taking note of the rope burns on her wrists. “You knew we were handsome?” Jin asked as Yn inspected her injuries he was quite surprised by the news considering the fact that they didn’t know that they were talked about in other mafia circles.                              

          “Umm.. yeah, you guys are kind of a big deal in the mafia, we had a dartboard with your faces on it back at the compound” she said, looking back up at them to see them blushing. 

    “Uhh.. do -, do you need cotton for that?” Hobi asked pointing at her wounds, she nodded, “and a mirror too please” she requested as she sat more comfortably, untying her legs as well so she could stretch them out, “So what do you guys want from me and what will you give me in return?” she asked a boy rushed into the room with a first aid kit and a mirror before rushing out of the room.

  She leaned forward, grabbing a piece of cotton before looking at her face in the mirror, “Aish, could’t you stab me somewhere else, my beautiful face” she whined as she cleaned up the blood and sweat, true Kim Seokjin behavior Hobi thought as she cleaned herself up, waiting for her to get done before they started to question her.

     Yn took her time while treating herself, because her injuries were more important than what ever information they needed, she even hummed to herself as she put on the bandage, putting extra pressure on it before taking her hands off.

   “Well, what do you need?” she asked sitting up straight. “this place isn’t exactly ideal for business deals, we’ll go upstairs where we can speak comfortably” Namjoon stated, she nodded as she got up, not showing any signs of pain at flexing her thigh. 

   Jimin and Yoongi followed after her, closing the interrogation room behind them.

_____________________________________________

_____________________________________________

Yn sat comfortably on the huge, luxurious sofa in Namjoon’s office, but she was going to complain about it just because she wanted to, “Yah, is this how the richest mafia lives? sitting on such bumpy sofas?” she groaned as the boys sat or stood at various places in the room, only Namjoon sat in the arm chair opposite to her. 

      She crossed her injured leg over the other one, she wasn’t going anywhere any time soon, might as well be comfortable. “So...” she began as the same boy who had got her the first aid kit got her a can of coke, she raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t refuse, taking the chilled can in hand she waited patiently for them to say something.

       “So...” Namjoon started, the awkwardness settling in the air. “we need information on who sent you and why” Jin asked, trying to help Namjoon out, “what do i get in exchange?” she countered, she was willing to bargain but she needed a price first, “what do you want?” Namjoon asked as she popped the coke can open, the sound of the fizz drowning out whatever she was saying so she repeated again.

     “I need a gang,” she said, taking a sip of the fizzy drink before continuing, “I, in case you don’t know me, I am Hwang Yn,” she said making the seven of them look at her with shock, the Hwang’s were quite popular among the mafias, they were born to kill, trained from a young age and only the most prominent gangs had a Hwang in them, Bangtan didn’t have any Hwangs yet, not because they weren’t prominent but because they didn't find the need to have a Hwang, they were also the most loyal clan in the Mafia.

The boys looked at each other, "why do you want to join out Mafia? I'm sure there are plenty of Mafias out there who would be honored to have you" Jungkook said from his spot on Namjoon's desk, toying with one of the paper weights, "who wouldn't want to be in Bangtan, you guys are the biggest crime organization there is in Korea" she answered. Namjoon thought about it, he didn't want to give her a free way, she could still be dangerous. "Are you willing to go through the basic tests for joining?" He asked, leaning forward in his seat, his elbows resting on his knees, his chin in his hand.

"Sure...." she drawled, looking at the seven boys more closely, she was confident, being a Hwang meant that she was multi talented, a great assassin with a strong sense of loyalty, she knew she could win any test that she was faced with.

"Well then, who sent you?" Namjoon asked once they had decided on what Yn wanted in exchange, "they're a group called Metallica, they're in association with JYP; do you have something more alcoholic by the way, this is too soft for my taste" she said holding up the coke, "we'll give you alcohol once you're done answering us" Yoongi snigger, "fine then, get this done quick" She demanded and Namjoon almost kicked himself for nodding at the command.

"Why did they send you?" He questioned before calling Taehyung closer, "get a room prepared for Ms.Yn" he ordered making Tae turn around to leave the room going to get a room prepared.

"You're forgetting that you're the biggest gang there is Namjoon, they want you done and out of the game" she said, Namjoon swore he felt a shiver go up his spine at the way she said his name, "will they send someone else?" He asked as Tae came back into the room, "yes, not immediately but they will come back" she answered.

"Where can I find them, where is their base?" Namjoon asked, making her sign and press the bridge of her nose, "look here Namjoon, you will not go after them" she said, daring him to argue with her, "I will hunt them down myself, no one and I mean absolutely no one let's Hwang Yn go that easily" she finished, silencing any disagreement.

Namjoon was fine with that, they wouldn't have to bother if she was on it, she could hunt them down if that’s what she wanted so be it, as long as she didn’t turn on them they were good. “Okay then, I’ll leave that up to you, now, would you like some rest or food?” He asked, she was surprised with how easily they were ready to give her shelter, they seemed too nice to be a part of the mafia if you looked past the stabbing, drugs and gangs part, “You will be under house arrest for the next few days till you prove that you won’t be running away and after that you can take the test and prove your loyalty and then, you can be a part of the gang” Never mind, they weren’t that nice after all.

__________________________________________________

__________________________________________________  

A/n: I'll continue this some other day :D ~ 🦛

Someone asked to be added to the taglist for this fic but unfortunately there is no taglist since it was a spontaneous idea but the rest of the story will be posted under the hashtag #bulletproofco, you can keep checking that hashtag to see if I post :)

#bts #bts jhope #bts jimin #bts jin #bts jungkook #bts namjoon #bts suga #bts fanfction #bts fantasy au #bts fic #bts taehyung #bts fanfic #bts army #bts angst #bts au #bts mafia au #bts yandere #bts mafia fic #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts x reader #bts x you #bts ot7 #ot7 x you #bts poly #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader

[miraculouscontent]

Can I ask for "Sole Crusher" and/or "Queen Banana" salt?

I’ll do both at once because all my gripes are relatively small.

“Sole Crusher”

They’re still using Marinette’s clumsiness as a punchline and I’ve been tired of that since “Animaestro.” Sabine clearly looks worried about the fall and it’s just--it really feels like Sabine and Tom don’t care about Marinette’s clumsiness unless it affects them personally, considering that Marinette was carrying their supplies. They either help her with her problems or they have no right to react to them.

Zoe is... fine. She’s just fine. I like her enough on at least the fact that Marinette has a pleasant relationship with her. I’m just not crazy about the fact that she’s another sad rich kid; we’ve already got like three of those. Her sad backstory is also way over the top and unnecessary, essentially boiling down to, “I was a nice person and people hated me for it.” It’s made weirder by the fact that no one just points out that it’d be dumb to hate her because they’re not terrible people, or just the ridiculousness in general of the people who treated her horribly.

Shame that Zoe’s only akuma is just... her looking like Chloe. I know it’s the point that she imitates others but I prefer when akuma show off the personality/tastes of the person.

I rolled my eyes a bit when the goal was to convince Sole Crusher down. After “Gang of Secrets,” trying to calm akuma down has just lost all meaning. Sole Crusher still listening to Chloe was dumb and the whole scene just ended up being padding. Sure, Sole Crusher ended up going for Chloe instead of Kitty Section, but still.

“Queen Banana”

Less of an episode criticism and more of me being disappointed from what I expected for from seeing the pre-airing stuff. Seeing Chloe just complain and everyone just being generally annoyed by it was super same-y and I’d kinda hoped that they’d all planned to backstab Chloe from the beginning and would feign fawning over her, giving her exactly what she wants with the intent of doing whatever they wanted later. It just adds more variety and comedy to the interactions instead of feeling like “Horrificator.”

Marinette says that she won’t be in the movie and then she’s in the movie. Is consistency too much to ask for? (I know the answer, don’t worry.)

Marinette being caught tripping on the news, even if it’s just in the background, is just... *sigh*

It felt like they wanted to develop Andre in “Sole Crusher” and then he’s just more of a joke in this one. He does try to back off from Chloe more than usual, but they pointed out the fact that he’s made a movie and then that doesn’t even come up as a plot point in the episode, instead just being a gag about him getting cut off (Andre could’ve easily been shown thinking of his own movie experience and what he’d try and do in this situation).

It got on my nerves that people were constantly overriding whatever Marinette said to talk about “tHe bEnEfIT oF tHe mOviE.” Same with Zoe comforting Marinette; it just ends up feeling like Marinette is needlessly put in this position so she looks in the wrong for not wanting to go along with everything?

If the students all were doing this in their free time, they really should’ve just left and said that they didn’t want their name on that project, especially Nino. They just sort of complain but it’s not like they’re stuck on the project if they’re donating their spare time to it.

Okay wait. So “Mr. Pigeon 72″ had Marinette say that she was using her holidays to do guardian stuff, then Adrien later said “see you tomorrow” as if they’d see each other at school the next day, implying that the holidays are over, but now apparently there are more holidays just three episodes later??? I don’t understand.

The banana thing was so forced. No other way to say it.

Adrien literally wasn’t in the plot until Chloe insisted on it (lowkey felt like the line about Adrien being the only one “worth rescuing” was the writers projecting), and then he gets a spotlight in the movie, being the only civilian who got a noticeable amount of screen time being healed, probably due to Gabriel’s influence. We’re back to “Mr. Pigeon 72″ logic where he’s there just to be there and for love square (and also “Lies” logic where this guy apparently has nothing better to do and can just afford to come by).

ARE ADRIEN AND CHLOE STILL FRIENDS OR NOT?? (More Adrien being sad too over Chloe, plz kill me)

Zoe’s personality jump between herself and Vesperia is really jarring. Speaking of which, don’t dig the “V” theme in Vesperia’s design, nor bits of her transformation. (they also felt the need to show off her backside in the end card, whyyyyy)

Chloe seemed to remember stuff from her akumatization in “Miracle Queen” too, but I just want this detail explained to me, because Chloe called Vesperia by name despite only hearing it as Queen Banana. Does Shadow Moth control what they remember or what??

Can’t tell how much of Zoe’s speech to Chloe is genuine and how much is just her putting on an act. Likewise, confused by the whole hint/jab at a potential future Chloe redemption, as it’s all really unnecessary.

#category: salt #episode: Sole Crusher #episode: Queen Banana #other: ml spoilers #other: ask and answer

[whereisten]

Dinner for Two

A Yuta fic that’s part of our Halloween Series!

Summary: A dinner at the high-end Osaka Moon leads you to the head chef and owner, Nakamoto Yuta.

Pairing: Chef! Yuta x female reader

Genre: romance, angst, smut, fluff, mystery, suspense, drama, crime, HORROR

Word Count: 7.8k 

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol/drug abuse, verbal abuse, mention of sexual assault, infidelity mention, deaths, and big, uncomfortable twist (the ending is not for the faint of heart, I’m warning you).

(A/N): Hiya! Well, this is probably the most disturbing thing I’ve ever written. Hope you enjoy! Haha actually, this story was inspired by Yuta’s iconic tweet: “I will eat you”. Well, if that’s not a spoiler...Thank you so much for waiting. I apologize for the delay! Please come back later tonight for another spooky tale...Also, my apologies, I didn’t get a chance to proofread. I appreciate your patience. :D 

_______

Life had dealt you some harsh blows but you found happiness wherever you could. Your management position at the vinyl store Neo Records gave you prime access to the best music in the world. Even if the employee discount was trash. You’d worked at the records store for a few months now. This followed you having moved out of your mom’s place. You’d lived with her and your beloved stepfather while you attended college but you’d had enough.

Your mom was a drug addict and her husband Scott only enabled her to continue her abuse. You couldn’t say anything to them because you were the child and they were the adults.

And, as they had always thrown in your face, they paid for a good amount of your tuition because financial aid and scholarships could only do so much for you.

Well, you’re twenty four now and still a child in their eyes. You couldn’t take your mother’s mood swings and Scott’s goading for her to thrash around and party all the time. If your mother wasn’t going to get therapy and refused your help, then you decided to leave.

You had a really good relationship with your dad. You’d wished you had gone to live with him but during your college years, he’d only made enough to send you some funds for your tuition. You appreciated what he could do for you.

However, now he was more financially stable and he wanted to support you so you could move out of your mother’s house. You’d live in an apartment not too far from your dad’s place so you could visit him as much as you’d like. It drove your mom crazy. She always tried to contact you and convince you that she was going to get help. It was a tale as old as time. She said she would get help but never did anything about it. Once she had you under her finger, she reverted back to her ways: skipping work shifts, neglecting household chores, and verbally abusing you. You simply texted her you were busy with work.

Your boyfriend Johnny has been a source of comfort for you over the past year. You’d met him at a club one night with your friends. You told him you didn’t want to go home that night and asked him if you could stay over. Looking back on it, you had been too trusting but Johnny had treated you kindly: he let you take his bed while he slept on the couch. He made you breakfast in the morning: banana pancakes and scrambled eggs. You had sex with him the morning after and you’d been inseparable ever since.

These past few weeks, Johnny had been busier at his new job at a marketing firm. You two were supposed to have a date night tonight but he cancelled two hours before you were to meet at Hal’s Pizzeria for dinner. After that, you were supposed to go to the movies together. You were always a big fan of the dinner and movie date.

You sat on the couch in your living room, feeling a little blue that Johnny was working overtime. So you scrolled through your phone while you watched episodes of an English-dubbed anime about volleyball.

You texted your best friend Carla about how Johnny cancelled at the last minute and she replied: Since you don’t have plans, then I have an opportunity for you.

You texted back, What’s up?

She replied, I had a reservation at Osaka Moon for tonight but I got called in for work. Wanna go? The owner is supposed to be hot as fuck.

You replied, Okay, want me to get his number for you?

She texted, Unnecessary. Thanks, y/n. We’ll go together next time.

_______

Osaka Moon was a high-end restaurant all your friends told you about. You decided to go on your own to the restaurant and have a date night with yourself. Being alone could be tranquil, you assured yourself. And you didn’t have to worry about looking so graceful as you ate so this could be great.

You dolled yourself up in a pale pink dress and some white wedges. It was an understated but elegant look. It was an expensive restaurant so you decided to go all out. You entered the Japanese restaurant and gave the hostess your friend’s name. She immediately sat you down at a table that overlooked the bay. It was a spectacular view. No wonder Carla didn’t want this reservation to go to waste.

It was a shame Johnny couldn’t be here with you right now. This place was so romantic. There were indoor fountains with koi fish swimming around. The ceiling was painted in shades of the sunset with birds flying through the clouds. The aroma of grilled meat and vegetables made you salivate.

A waiter took your order and you took out your phone to take pictures of the restaurant and the view. You wondered if you would catch a glimpse of the chef your friend had mentioned.

As you move your camera around the restaurant to get a wider shot of the place, you recognize someone through your phone. Johnny’s hair was slicked back and he was wearing your favorite suit of his: navy blue with a ruby red colored tie. His height made him stick out like a sore thumb. The sight before you made you wish he’d be a little taller so his head could hit the ceiling. For the sight left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Johnny had arrived at Osaka Moon with another woman. She was generically pretty and you hated her even more. She looked like the mean blonde girl of every early 2000s romantic comedy. She wore a revealing dress that exposed her cleavage very nicely. Why were you paying so much attention to her cleavage? Because of the necklace around her neck: a necklace that looked identical to the one Johnny gifted you last year. It was a rose gold pendant with a rose at the center. Johnny kissed the woman’s lips as he sat her down at the table. She placed her hands against his slimy face.

Son of a-

Hot tears started rushing down your face. You were sure your mascara was running. You gripped your glass of wine tightly. You were surprised you didn’t break the glass then and there.

First off, you went to the restroom and checked your makeup. A little mascara had run down your cheeks. You fixed your makeup and took a few deep breaths. You looked at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were red. What were you going to do now? There was a chance he’d see you and you didn’t want to see the stupid look on his face when he realized he’d been found out.

And you didn’t want to imagine what other reaction he could have. All of this happening in such an extravagant place made you seethe.

Johnny made a fool out of you and his infidelity carved a hole so deeply into your heart, you wanted to scream. So you took a few more minutes to collect yourself. You imagined your entree would be out soon enough anyway. You quickly realized what you needed to do.

You made a beeline for the entrance of the restaurant and approached the first staff member you saw. He was a slender and striking young man. His long brown hair was tied up in a bun. His chiseled face made everyone’s heads turn. His heart shaped lips were perfect. And…

Why were you thinking all of these things when you’d just been cheated on?

Wait a second…

Why couldn’t you think this way? As of ten minutes ago, your relationship with Johnny was over.

The handsome man was talking to one of the hostesses. The hostess was biting her lips and making googly eyes at him. This was awkward but you were resolved to ask him for help.

You tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Excuse me.”

He turned around and eye contact with him nearly sent you into the stratosphere. His eyes were the deepest brown and when he looked at you, you felt like you were his world.

His eyes were that intense.

“How can I help you?” He smiled, his perfect set of teeth greeted you.

“Hi...Um, what’s your name?” You start, awkward at the start.

He smiled even wider, “Yuta, miss. And yours?”

“I’m y/n. Can I make a special request?”

You didn’t know it then but Yuta watched you enter the restaurant earlier. He was stunned by your beauty and your smile. You looked like a princess as you entered his castle. He saw the wonderstruck look on your face as you were led to your table. He’d never seen someone so happy to enter his restaurant. The young man before you was the owner of Osaka Moon: Nakamoto Yuta.

So for you to come up to him and ask him for a favor? He was more than happy to oblige.

Yuta noticed how red your eyes looked and was concerned. He wondered what transpired when he had to go check on the kitchen staff and couldn’t keep admiring you.

Although your eyes had been red, there was determination in them, he noted.

“Of course,” he said as you moved closer to him and whispered in his ear, making you both a little hot and bothered instantly. You both felt a spark from the moment you met eyes.

Snap out of it, you told yourself. He was very attractive, yes, but your heart had been ripped out of your chest. You wanted revenge. You had to remember why you were talking to this fine man in the first place.

_______

You sat back at your table, undetected by the clusterfuck of a man you used to call your boyfriend. You made sure to focus on your meal, which had been orgasmic. The dish was called Okonomiyaki, a pancake with sliced pork belly and cabbage. The okonomiyaki sauce, Japanese mayonnaise, and dried bonito shavings sealed this dish as one of the best meals you’d ever had. Your compliments to the chef, whoever they were.

You realized it was go-time when the handsome staff member brought the food out for Johnny and his date. All eyes were on the young man who said he would help you. You wondered why. Has your plan been found out?

The young man deposited the dishes to Johnny’s table. His radiant smile never slipped from his face. Incredible, you thought. After what you told him about Johnny, he looked like he was about to pounce on him right then. Even so, he looked attentively at you and accepted your request.

“Here you are,” Yuta said as he put down the plates of sushi in front of Johnny and Blondie. “And a special treat from our chef…”

Johnny and his date oohed and ahhed over their plates. Until the young man deposited a plate that had sauce spelling “Cheater, Liar, Bastard” on it.

“This dish is for you, sir. Have a pleasant evening with Girlfriend Number Two, you son of a bitch.” Yuta gritted his teeth at Johnny. The expression on Yuta’s face then both terrified and aroused you.

Humiliating your cheating boyfriend and standing up for you...It brought a smile to your face.

Even if you still wanted to cry.

Johnny glared up at Yuta, “What the hell is-” He then does what he never does and THINKS. He panics and scans the restaurant, looking for you. He finds you seated at your table. You raise your glass at him as you take a sip of your wine. You flip the bird at him in the process.

He stands up from his table and runs over to your table. “Y/n…”

The other woman is right behind Johnny and  simply laughs. “This is her? From the way you talked about her, I expected a real threat...but it’s nice to see that I have nothing to worry about.”

So she knew? She was in on this? You mimicked the blonde’s laugh. “Oh, fuck off...both of you…How long have been together?”

“Three months,” the blonde smirked.

That hurt. A lot. Johnny must’ve started seeing Blondie around the time you’d celebrated your one year anniversary with him.

You guessed one year was his expiration date for relationships.

“Go…” You started. “Have a nice blissful year together. In nine months or so, he’ll find someone shiny and new..”

Johnny was at a loss for words. “Y/n, I am so-”

“Are you sorry?” You rolled your eyes. “Go to hell, Johnny!” You couldn’t hold back anymore as the tears came out.

Yuta came up behind Johnny and his date. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“How dare you?” Blondie asked. “I want to speak to your manager-”

Yuta crossed his arms as his lips quirked up. “You’re looking at him.”

The three of you stared at him with your jaws to the floor. This was news to you. You’d ask the restaurant owner for a favor? The audacity you had…

Your face heated up in embarrassment.

Yuta called over a few security guards to escort Johnny and his date out. Johnny couldn’t even look at you. A fucking coward. His other girl had more balls than he did.

Yuta put a hand on your shoulder and leaned down to speak to you. “Are you okay?” His anger dissipated at the sight of your tears.

You sniffled. “Yeah...Thank you...I-I’m so sorry for bothering you...I didn’t know you were the owner of this place…”

He squeezed your shoulder. “I was happy to help…”

You laughed. “You scared the crap out of me when you called him a son of a bitch.”

He played around with you. “Ah, you liked that? I’ve been working on my crime lord act...How do you think it’s coming along?”

You wiped your tears with your napkin. “Pretty good.”

You both laughed.

“Well, y/n...I hope you have a wonderful rest of the night.” He tipped his imaginary hat and walked away.

As you finished your meal, your waiter brought you a bowl of green tea mochi ice cream.

“Oh, I didn’t order this,” you started.

The waiter replied, “Courtesy of the boss, miss. Please let us know if there is anything else you would like. Your meal is on the house.”

“I’m sorry, what?” You asked in shock.

The waiter smiled. “Just following the boss’ orders.”

This night may have begun on a sour note but at least you could end it at this incredible place. And you were pretty sure you’d met a real life knight in shining armor tonight...

Before you left the restaurant, the hostess, annoyed, handed you an envelope. “Here.”

“What is it?” You furrowed your brows in confusion.

The hostess sighed. “The golden ticket. Have a good night, miss.” She returned to her stand with her coworkers.

You walked out the door and left Osaka Moon. You opened the envelope and found a handwritten letter.

y/n,

I’ll be upfront with you. I wanted to ask you out the minute you walked into Osaka Moon. But then I found out you had a boyfriend. And right after that, I found out he was a cheating piece of shit...So I’m at a crossroads here...Can I see you again? If yes, please call me at 555-127-1026.

Yours,

Yuta

P.S. The green tea mochi was good, wasn’t it?

_______

A week had passed. You and Yuta have been texting non-stop. He invited you to his restaurant to have dinner. The beef tenderloin he’d served you was out of this world. He made you laugh and shamelessly flirted with you the whole time. You told Yuta you weren’t ready to date so soon. You didn’t want him to be a rebound. You knew that once your heart mended a little more, you’d want to ask Yuta out. He was more than willing to wait for you.

You two had a lot in common: same taste in food, same taste in music, same sense of humor, and you both believed in astrology. No one was as unapologetic about being a Scorpio as Yuta was.

You and Yuta would share meals together frequently. Sometimes outside of his restaurant. And right after, you two would go to the movies like you wanted.

Two months have passed. Finally a couple, you and Yuta have just left the cinema. You’d just watched a midnight showing of Paranormal Activity 7.

“That was amazing,” you started.

Yuta snorted. “You are too easy to please, y/n. That movie was terrible.”

You slapped him in the chest. “You’re so full of it.”

Yuta chuckled. “Nothing beats horror movies from Japan. Just you wait…” He wrapped his arm around you.

You looked up at him. “Is that a promise?”

He kissed the crown of your head. “You bet it is.”

_______

“It is week nine into the investigation of Johnny Suh’s disappearance. Johnny Suh is a twenty four year old marketing consultant. He hails from Chicago, Illinois…” The news anchor says on the television screen.

You and Yuta are cuddled on his couch in his penthouse suite, watching the news. You were shocked when you first heard that Johnny had gone missing over two months ago. Even though you’d hated him with every fiber of your being, your heart ached for his family. You hoped he would be okay.

Yuta drove to you to work that morning and told you he would pick you up when your shift ended. He planned to surprise you with a backyard screening of “Ring”, one of the most popular Japanese horror films of all time. He’d set up a projector in his backyard so you two could watch the movie under the stars.

When Yuta arrived to pick you up, he saw you run out of the record shop and run away in tears. He ran out of his car to meet you.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” Yuta asked as he cupped your face in his hands and wiped tears away.

You sniffled. “Let’s go...Pl-please.”

Yuta was hesitant but he accepted as you definitely wanted to get the hell out of there.

The question on Yuta’s mind was...Why?

As he drove away from Neo Records, he asked, more softly, “What happened, y/n?”

“I quit,” you said.

Yuta nearly stopped the car so he could look at you. However, he couldn’t because the traffic was quite unpredictable so he couldn’t turn to face you. “What? Why?”

“I...I don’t...He...Uh…” You hiccuped between your tears.

Yuta gripped the steering wheel at the sound of “he”. “Who? Y/n, did someone do something to you?”

You were worried about how Yuta might react when you told him about how your boss, Mr. Fox, groped you during your lunch break. Mr. Fox had always been too friendly with female staff but you never thought he would cross the line. Until today.

“Mr. Fox touched...me…” You managed to say. You shut your eyes, awaiting the wrath of the Scorpio beside you.

Yuta was about to rip the steering wheel out of the car. “He did what?”

“He touched me, Yuta...And I...I didn’t know what to do...I don’t have proof...So I quit. I can’t be in the same room as him anymore…”

Yuta was furious. To see the woman he loved broken and helpless. You were his everything and you deserve nothing but the best the world had to offer. And to see you get treated like this? He wanted to beat the shit out of Mr. Fox. He wanted to see him cry and beg for mercy.

He didn’t want to frighten you with his anger because you were already shaken up as is so he turned into a store plaza parking lot and put the car in park. He turned to you and asked you, “Can I hold you?”

You nodded, “Y-yes…”

Yuta backed the driver seat up so you could crawl into his arms. He held you as you cried. His heart ached for you and he wondered what he could do to get you justice.

You were so thankful to Yuta. You knew he would be so upset once you told him. Your heart felt so reassured to see how passionate he was about you. He made you feel like you were his world. And you felt much better knowing that you had him by your side.

_______

A week had passed by after you quit your job at Neo Records. You couldn’t afford to pay your half of the rent so Yuta offered for you to move in. You were thrilled at the idea. You and Yuta were living like blissful newlyweds.

You were washing the dishes after you two had eaten some imported steak that Yuta had wanted to try out. It was incredible. Everything Yuta prepared for you was literal sex in your mouth.

As you stretched your neck to the left, Yuta wrapped his arms around you and nibbled on your neck. “y/n, you smell like raspberries…”

You froze and dropped the dish you’d been scrubbing into the soapy water.

Yuta turned you around quickly and pulled your cleaning gloves off of your hands and tossed them aside. He picked you up and sat you on the kitchen island.

“I love that you’re here with me…” He whispered.

The hooded look in his eyes made your panties soak. He lifted the skirt of your dress up like nothing. He sunk his teeth into the fabric of your panties and pulled them down, never losing eye contact with you. You loved how primal he got with you. He always left you with love bites. He always seemed to find new places to leave them so you can find them during a random part of your day and think of him.

“I wonder if your pussy tastes like raspberries, y/n...Shall we find out?” Yuta asks as he looks up at you. He was on his knees, looking like he was praying to his goddess.

You nodded fervently as you pulled your dress off over your head, only in your bra now. “Yes…”

He unclasped your bra so your breasts were exposed to the cold air in the kitchen. Your nipples were already hard at Yuta’s initial touch. He got up off his knees and began sucking at one nipple and rubbing the others. He bit your nipple and you cried out.

You grabbed at his growing member and he grunted. You unbuttoned his pants so his aching member could be free. You squeezed it harder and began rubbing up and down. Traces of precum coated your fingers. You worked harder to get him riled up. When he felt himself build up, you stopped and he looked up at you through needy eyes.

You kept going until he climaxed onto your arm. You licked his cum off of your arm slowly and it made his cock harder. He met you halfway and lathered up his juices. He loved the taste of his seed on you.

Yuta catered to your pussy which ached for his touch. His hot breath greeted your entrance before he inserted two fingers inside you. He coated his fingers in your growing essence. You adorned him with kisses and love bites. You bit behind his ear and he moaned at your velvet touch.

He laid you down on top of the kitchen island, throwing everything off of the table with a quick swipe of his arm. He straddled himself on top of you. He proceeded to give your entrance some kitten licks, enjoying when he teased you most of all. You got all bratty and needy and it always drove him up a wall.

“Yuta...please hurry,” you begged.

He tsked. “Good things come to those who wait, darling.”

At the sound of “darling”, you got even wetter.

He chuckled as he licked your folds and played around with your sweet spot. Never quite making contact and making you delirious with need. You gripped his hair, trying to maneuver him to hit your sweet spot already.

“You better not cum until I say so, y/n...Or else I’m going to get very angry…” Yuta said with a mischievous smile on his face.

Yuta underestimated his touch, you thought. The man was literal sex on two feet. You came quickly at the contact he’d made with your pussy.

He frowned at you, “My dear little slut, you’ve disobeyed me.”

You sighed blissfully. “You make me want to break the rules, Yuta.”

He laughed. “So I’m to blame for your disobedience, huh?”

You grabbed his face and kissed him, your tongue playing around with his. You kissed his neck and left marks against his collarbone as he teased his cock against your entrance.

He entered you now and you felt close to completion. He thrusted against you and you joined him. The slapping of skin against skin and your moans echoed throughout the penthouse. You were thankful there were no next door neighbors. You liked the feeling of this floor being just the two of you.

Alone with Yuta, you felt like the center of his universe. You felt like a queen. That no one else mattered quite like you did. Yuta always made you feel like the most important person in the world.

You felt the need to climax come back quickly but just as you wished for your release against Yuta’s member, he removed himself and pecked your lips.

Between your thighs, he gave you a dark stare. “I don’t know if you should cum again, sweets.”

You drooled. “Please…”

Yuta teased. “What was that?”

“Please,” you full on begged as you started to touch yourself. “I need you or else I’m going to finish the job.”

He gasped and laughed. “You’re unbelievable.”

You coated your fingers in your essence and popped your index finger into Yuta’s mouth. He sucked hard.

“How do I taste?” You asked.

Yuta didn’t let go of your finger and bit lightly against it to tease you further.

You sighed. “Well, if you don’t want to fuck me properly, then I can’t force you. I’ll finish off in the shower.” You got up off the kitchen counter and nearly lost your balance. You were already weak in the knees.

Yuta fought back a laugh. “I’d like to see you make it to the shower, jello legs.”

You gave up and laid on the floor, giving him a nice angle of your naked body. You stretched out and started teasing your own entrance, imagining Yuta was building you up again. And having him watch from above on the kitchen counter, you felt yourself grow even hotter.

Yuta got up off of the counter and straddled you again. Without warning, he entered you and went hard. Tears streamed from your eyes as you climaxed quickly. Yuta continued you to thrust against your pelvis until he came quickly after.

Yuta took you into the shower where you would continue to fuck and he gave you new love bites. This time, they were on your ankles.

_______

A month had passed and you’d taken over as manager of Neo Records. Mr. Fox had fallen off the face of the earth and was reported missing. It was odd. Another man who attempted to ruin your life had disappeared. You thought it was karmic justice but deep down, it bothered you.

Your mother once again resurfaced after months of radio silence. She wanted to invite you and your new boyfriend (who she was very upset not to have heard about before) over for dinner. Scott and his kids from his previous marriage would be there. You hated them, too. They were a bunch of enabling brats that were after their daddy’s money.

You couldn’t say no to your mother, especially after she found out about Yuta from your dad. It wounded her pride that your dad knew something she didn’t. Your dad felt horrible for letting it slip in conversation with her. He couldn’t dodge her phone calls. He always tried to pacify her and talk to her when she called. So he couldn’t help but mention Yuta.

You didn’t want Yuta to know about your mother and her side of the family, for it brought about deep shame, regret, and painful memories.

But this time, you couldn’t run away.

You and Yuta went over to your mother’s lavish home, your old home for seven years. Scott married your mom when you were a senior in high school. Scott came from old money but he never worked a day in his life. The undeserving ass wipe, he was.

Your mother pretended to be the picture of domesticity as she cooked her once-in-a-decade dish of lasagna. You loved it, you hated to admit it now. You begged her to make it so many times when you were a kid. She always said she would but would always get distracted. Distracted with her new boyfriends or paying a debt. Sometimes you were truly on your own even if your mom had been physically beside you.

You and Yuta sat at the table with Scott and his kids. They prodded Yuta with questions about his ethnicity, his restaurant, his political beliefs, basically everything you can think of that would make anyone’s significant other runs for the hills.

Yuta took it like a champ. He answered them as politely as possible and whenever the question was too offensive to get an answer, Yuta masterfully deflected.

Your mom brought out the lasagna and served everyone. She gave an extra helping for Yuta. “I hope you like it, Yuta.”

Yuta nodded. “Thank you, Ms. y/l/n.” He took a bite of it. “It’s delicious.”

Your mom smiled brightly and gave you a look of encouragement.

You forced a smile.

Your mom could tell you were faking it and her smile faded. “You still hate me, don’t you, y/n?”

Oh no, you thought, not here…

“I make this nice dinner for you and your perfect boyfriend...Who is clearly way out of your league...And you’re moping around like a sad, pathetic little bitch.”

“Mom, please stop-”

“You don’t tell me what to do! I am the parent. You are the child. Get that through your thick head. God knows what poison your father has been feeding you about me but he’s wrong. I’ve never been better,” she says as she downs her third glass of beer in the past thirty minute.  

She was already this inebriated so you imagined she drank before you arrived and drank more while she was cooking the lasagna.

You looked down at your lap and Yuta grabbed your hand. He squeezed it.

“Your mother has been coming with me to church, y/n,” Scott began, “She’s been conversing with the Lord and she’s been on the mend. Why can’t you see that?”

Your other hand that wasn’t holding Yuta’s had balled up into a fist.

Scott’s oldest daughter added, “Your mom’s amazing, y/n. She’s more of a mother to me than my actual mother is.”

That’s rich….Your mom always acted so sweetly with Scott’s kids to get on his good side. It was sickening. And to hear this bullshit come out of their mouth...You were about to reach your breaking point.

“Yuta, let’s go,” you said.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Scott asked.

“Anywhere but here,” you said, “Excuse us.”

“Y/n, if you leave, I will never talk to you again!” Your mom wailed as she gripped her glass tightly.

You snapped, “Well, mom, that just might be the nicest thing would ever do for me.”

Yuta started. “Y/n-”

“Go to hell!” Your mom yelled.

“I’ll meet you there!” You yelled back as you stormed with Yuta right behind you.

Back at your place, you hid in your bedroom while Yuta ordered some takeout. You laid your face down on Yuta’s pillow and smelled the scent of his shampoo mixed with his cologne on it. It gave you great comfort.

Yuta joined you and sat beside you on the bed. “The food will be here in half an hour.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled against the pillow.

Yuta sighed as he laid down next to you. “How are you?”

“Humiliated,” you answered.

“Y/n...I am so sorry…”

“Are you kidding? I’m sorry I took you with me in the first place...I...I could’ve kept you from all of that…”

“Your mother insisted, y/n. We had no choice.”

“Yup, that’s how it always is with her and fucking Scott. I fucking hate him. If it weren’t for his money and her obsession with him, she wouldn’t have gotten to this point, Yuta…”

Yuta rubbed your arm. “I know, y/n…”

You sighed. “I know there’s nothing I can do...It just sucks. I try not to let it get to me...Since it’s something I can’t control...But seeing my mom like that...It’s really fucking unfair.” You sob into your pillow.

In between your sobs, you said, “I wish Scott would go away...Somehow…”

Yuta hugged you as you cried. He wanted nothing more than to take your pain and suffering away.

_______

A month had passed since the disastrous dinner. Your mom was good with her word. She hadn’t contacted you or your dad. You’d told him about the falling out and he consoled you. He understood your pain more than anyone. He encouraged you to keep living your life and being happy with Yuta and so you did.

Yuta’s birthday was coming up so you wanted to surprise him. He told you he was meeting a client downtown so you got to work.

You wanted to take Yuta to all of his favorite places over town and you wanted to make scavenger hunt out of it. The clues would take Yuta to places that had to do with your relationship. It was a way of celebrating how much of an amazing boyfriend he’d been to you. The ultimate prize of the hunt would be a key...a hotel room key to the Lotus Hotel.

As you shopped for art supplies for your scavenger hunt one night, you’d noticed Yuta on his way somewhere. He had a couple of shopping bags with him.

You decided to follow him and catch him by surprise. However, Yuta was headed to a more abandoned part of town, where there were only warehouses.

You got behind a bunch of abandoned cars and watched Yuta make his way into a warehouse, where his car had already been parked. Half an hour passes and Yuta comes out of the door with bags stained red with blood.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. What the hell were those?

You noticed the shifty look in Yuta’s eyes and quickly, you grew scared. Terrified of being caught.

Calm down, you told yourself, it was probably meat for his restaurant. What else could it be? You felt incredibly stupid for spying on him like this. In fact, you felt ashamed.

You waited for Yuta to leave in his car. You crept into the warehouse and tried looking through the windows. You saw nothing but butchers’ paper and a basket of random items.

Except one thing stuck out to you. A gold Rolex. It was obnoxiously large that you could never forget about it.

It was Scott’s. It was one of a kind. He had it custom-made to be the only one in existence. And now it was just sitting there in a random warehouse…

But why? What was it doing in this warehouse that Yuta came out of?

Your stomach lurched at the uncertainty of it all. You needed to get the hell out of here so you ran off.

Not realizing you’d forgotten something.

_______

Yuta made you spaghetti and meatballs after work the next day. You’d been awfully quiet and he wanted to know why.

“Something bothering you, sweets?” He asked.

You played with your food and took a bite of one of the meatballs. Damn, it tasted good, you thought. It was savory and not like any other kind of beef you’ve tasted. You had to ask Yuta where he imported his meat from because there was nothing quite like it.

Still, you couldn’t look Yuta in the eyes.

“Y/n, look at me, please…” He started.

You forced yourself to look at him and just as you were about to speak, your phone rang.

You were shocked to see that it was your mom. You dreaded answering it but if it could deflect from the confrontation you were about to have with Yuta…

You answered, “Hello?”

“Y/n!” Your mom sobbed. “Scott is missing!”

Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. “What?”

Your mom wailed. “I don’t know what to do, y/n! Have you seen him at all since you came to visit?”

Your mind immediately went to the gold Rolex at the warehouse. “No, mom, I haven’t seen him.”

Yuta watched you with curious eyes. You averted your gaze and got up from the table. “Mom, please calm down...The police will find him. That’s what they’re supposed to do.”

Your mom laughed. “When has the police ever done what they’re supposed to do?”

You sighed. “Mom, I’m so sorry...If there’s anything I can do…” You felt awkward for saying this because you absolutely hated Scott and part of you wanted to say good riddance...But you couldn’t. You couldn’t add salt to your mother’s wound.

You mom replied, “If you see or hear anything about Scott, call me. Please.”

“Okay,” you said, “Bye mom.”

Your mother hung up.

You turned back to Yuta, who watched you carefully from the table.

“Your food’s getting cold, y/n…” Yuta mused aloud.

“Right…” You said as you sat back down. You took another bite of the spaghetti and meatballs.

“What was that about?” Yuta asked, concerned.

“My mom called. Scott is missing…” You said as you looked down at your food.

“Oh? Well, that’s terrible,” Yuta said. He looked upset enough.

But you knew him. You sighed, “Yuta, you’re hiding something from me.”

His eyes widened. “Finally, I was waiting for you to say something. It’s been driving me crazy.”

“What?” You asked.

He pulled something out of his pants pocket and it was your charm bracelet. His birthday gift to you from last month...You’d completely forgotten about it. “You dropped this on the way home.”

Your mouth opened in shock.

“How long were you watching me for, y/n? It must’ve been troublesome to be hiding in the rubble across the street…”

You lost your appetite completely. “You knew?”

“I knew you were tailing me yesterday…” He said as he picked at your plate and took a bite of your food.

You started pathetically, “I wanted to surprise you…”

Yuta nodded. “But instead I surprised you…”

“Yuta, what was in those bags?” You asked. “And what were you doing with Scott’s watch?”

Yuta bit his lip and rubbed the back of his head. “Well...Since we’re this deep into the relationship, I think I should be completely honest with you, y/n.”

The look in Yuta’s eyes was something you didn’t recognize. It wasn’t playful. It was more...evil.

“Do you remember our first meal together, y/n? How savory it was? How it was unlike anything you’d ever tasted?”

You didn’t know where this was going but you responded anyway, “Y-yeah…”

“Did you ever stop to think if it was really beef tenderloin?” Yuta asked.

Your eyes widened. “N-no…”

“Come on, y/n. It’s me...You can be honest…”

“Was it veal?” You asked, grasping at straws.

Yuta shook his head and a smile was fighting to come onto his face. “Nope...I grounded him up real nicely for our first meal together…” He muttered that last part.

“Him?” You asked.

“But who else, y/n? Think.”

You and Yuta ate together for the first time after...Your breakup with Johnny.

“Yuta...What are you…” You began.

“I think I’ve made myself pretty clear.”

You laughed skeptically. “Yuta, I know you love to tease but be serious for a second…”

Yuta’s face darkened. “I am serious, y/n.”

You shook your head. “You mean to tell me...Y-you killed Johnny?”

Yuta nodded. “Why, yes...Slit the bastard’s tire before he left the restaurant. Followed him home. Made sure Girlfriend Number Two was going up to her apartment and I got him right where I wanted him…”

“Yuta…” You couldn’t believe what he was saying. This had to be some cruel joke. And the fact that he was being so specific with these details meant that he wasn’t lying.

“So, yes, y/n, I killed Johnny and I ground him up. No evidence of that bastard’s existence is left now…And do you want to know why?”

You cried. “Yuta, stop it.”

Yuta wiped the tears from your eyes. “Because we ate him. You and me, y/n…”

You gasped in horror. You sobbed as you backed away from Yuta. “You’re a fucking liar, Yuta. Stop it!”

Yuta sighed. “Why should I stop there? That scumbag, Mr. Fox? Remember the day we made the sweetest love in the kitchen? And we had ‘steak’?”

“Yuta, no!” You fell to the floor. “Stop it! I am begging you.”

“You need to know the truth, y/n…”

You shook your head. “You killed them...And you killed Scott.”

“Ding ding! We have a winner!” Yuta rejoiced.

“You’re crazy…” You cried out.

Yuta’s smile faded as quickly as it came. “Y/n, you don’t mean that. You love me. Just as I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment we met…”

You cried harder. “Yuta…”

Yuta got onto the floor with you. “I did it all for you, y/n. So you could be free from them all.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Yuta was a murderer and...you couldn’t even think the word...

And you...you ate their remains...Johnny’s...Mr. Fox’s...and…

You looked up at the plate of spaghetti and meatballs and came to another realization. You ran into the bathroom and threw up in the toilet.

You gagged and coughed as you held your hair back.

You’d just eaten Scott’s remains.

Your world was crashing down on you. Yuta, the love of your life, killed three people. And that was only accounting for the people you knew. You had no idea what his past was really like. Yuta cut them up, ground them up, did everything a butcher would do with their body parts. Yuta fed them to you. He ate them knowingly and unapologetically.

And the worst part?

You enjoyed every morsel…

And you craved more.

Yuta entered the bathroom and held your hair back for you as he caressed your back. “There, there…”

Tears from vomiting ran down your cheeks. “Yuta...You really shouldn’t have done those things…”

“Do you really mean that, y/n? Johnny made a fool out of you and lied to you. He humiliated you and he didn’t stop his new girlfriend from insulting you. He was scum. Mr. Fox was the most vile of them all. He touched you without consent. Rapists should perish from the moment they think of touching someone...At least, give me that much, sweets…”

As disturbing as everything Yuta had said sounded, you couldn’t help but agree with him.

“And Scott...You wished to make him go away...And your wish is my command, my angel.”

You got up from the toilet and flushed the contents down. You went to the sink and brushed your teeth. All the while, Yuta watched you.

“Y/n...The consumption of human flesh has been a custom in my family for generations...These days, we can’t just pick and choose our victims. We must have an honorable reason to kill them. You gave me three victims. A feast. It’s what sustains me, y/n…”

You spat the toothpaste out of your mouth and swished your mouth with some mouthwash. “You...you’re serious?”

“I need to consume human flesh at least once a year or I will die, y/n...Why do you think my parents died so young?”

You thought about it. “They gave up on human flesh?”

Yuta nodded somberly. “I don’t want to die, y/n. Now that I’ve met you, I can’t afford to…”

“But why did you feed them to me?” You asked.

“To absorb their power. To move on,” he said, “It’s my family’s belief that once you ingest the meat of your enemy that you will overcome the barrier that they’ve created for you.”

You stood there, silent. You were afraid of what he would probably bring up next.

“You enjoyed it, didn’t you?” He asked, finally.

You averted your gaze and stared at the sink. “I...did.”

Yuta met your eyes through the mirror. “I know, y/n...And there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Not with me.”

Tears escaped your eyes. Yuta was right. It’d felt...amazing. Empowering. And each of them were the best meals you’d ever had…

“Yuta?” You started.

“Yes, darling?”

“Never keep anything from me again,” you commanded.

_______

It had been a year since the news broke out over Scott’s disappearance. Johnny and Mr. Fox’s missing person cases had gone cold.

Since Scott was out of the picture, your mom had a mental break and was admitted into a rehabilitation facility. She is continually seeking treatment and is turning away visitors. She wrote you a letter, reflecting on her past mistakes and how she’d failed you as a mother. She apologized profusely and promised you that she would try to be sober.

And that’s all you’d ever hoped for from her. You knew that it would be a difficult journey. But the desire for change was the first step in the right direction. And you had a feeling your mom was going to succeed.

You married Yuta. Your father gave you away at the wedding. You were happy. You and Yuta traveled the world together. You had adopted two rescue dogs. To your friends and family, you and Yuta were the dream.

When you’d returned from your honeymoon, Yuta had bought a house for you two to start a family together. The first night in your new house, Yuta bred you.

You two laid in bed together. Yuta hugged you and asked, “So, has anyone screwed you over recently?”

You laughed. “Nope. Sucks for you, doesn’t it?”

He rolled his eyes and nipped at your ear. “A Nakamoto man’s gotta eat, y/n...Any ideas?”

You nuzzled into his neck. “You can always eat me.”

Yuta got a hard on at those words. “You’re too sweet for me to eat. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, y/n…”

You traced your fingers down his happy trail and asked. “Well, we can go hunting this week. I’m sure there’s some privileged college fuckboy that is beyond redemption…”

“You know what, y/n? There’s so many things I love about you but it’s your optimism that gets me hot.”

“Oh yeah?” You teased as you kissed him.

“I love you,” Yuta said between kisses.

“I love you, too,” you replied.

[Fin]

#nct #nct 127 #nct yuta #nct 127 yuta #yuta boyfriend #yuta imagine #yuta scenario #yuta blurb #nct halloween #yuta smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #kpop smut #nakamoto yuta #yuta x you #yuta x reader #yuta drabbles #yuta drabble #nct 2020 yangyang #yuta imagines #yuta scenarios #yuta blurbs #yuta oneshot #yuta one shot #nct angst #nct fluff #nct romance #nct horror #yuta reaction #nct roleplay

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

IOTA Reviews: Mega Leech

Like every cartoon ever made, today's episode is the environmental episode. We all know how high-quality those tend to be, right?

Let's get into the twelfth (chronologically the tenth) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Mega Leech.

We start off with the shyest girl in Marinette's class, Mylene, mentally preparing herself for a protest with her boyfriend, tough guy with a soft side, Ivan.

Wow, real subtle foreshadowing there, writers.

The thing Mylene and Ivan are protesting is something called the “Oxygen Project” by Mayor Andre Bourgeois, which will supposedly create fresh air for Paris. To be fair, this isn't just a random character trait they slapped onto Mylene like what we've seen with other episodes this season to justify their new Akuma forms. Back in the Season 2 episode “Reverser”, a major plotpoint for the final act was that Andre was about to approve a project that would send trash into space, which Mylene and Ivan were protesting at, before the titular Akuma threatened to send the trash back to the Earth. This show can get weird at times.

Even though they're the only two protesters, Andre still has Officer Roger Raincomprix take them into custody. To his credit, Roger does try to resolve things diplomatically, and is very hesitant to take them to his car (even though they aren't handcuffed and there's no divider), he only does so when his job is threatened by Andre. And let's get the obvious joke out of the way now because there's going to be a lot of moments like this.

Marinette sees the event from her house, and after running late to school resulting in a brief moment of Unfunny Marinette Slapstick, tells the class what's going on. Surprisingly, instead of ignoring the whole situation like every other episode she's been in, Ms. Bustier decides to actually be a teacher for once and calls Roger. She says that she'll supervise their protest while the rest of the class comes with her.

Back at the park, Andre is about to chop a tree down with a chainsaw, but is soon called out by Ms Bustier. Mylene calls out Andre for the obviously not eco-friendly project, but he soon plays an ad for the Oxygen Project.

Huh. So this is how Druidia's canned air business took off.

To be fair, this is actually a funny scene, as it does feel like an over the top commercial you'd see, especially the kind that gets promoted by a politician. Of course, this funny joke is soon followed yet another reminder that Marinette likes Adrien, because the writers assume the audience will forget if they aren't bashed over the head with this knowledge every episode.

And as usual, Adrien ignores Marinette's odd behavior around him, but that's more because he's distracted by the ad, because he was told it was for perfume (did the oxygen line not give away the purpose of the commercial?). Quick question: Why is Gabriel taking part in this? Why is a fashion designer being commissioned to create a bottle for a government-sanctioned project? Does he just invest in random projects and hopes they'll go under so he can akumatize someone? As for Mylene, her classmates are naturally confused as to why she is opposed to this project if it's good for the environment. Her response is something that can ironically be used to criticize this very show when talking about the Oxygen Project.

We then get a moment where, of course, Chloe is the one to say she doesn't care about trees despite having no real prominence in this episode. Seriously, this is the only line she gets and it's to remind the audience how much of an irredeemable monster she is.

Oh my God, Astruc, why don't you just say she's a climate change denier while you're at it, seeing how you already view them as criminals? You clearly want to throw every negative character trait and label at her, don't you? If you're so crazy about hating her, why not make Chloe Captain Planet villain levels of evil?

Marintte points out the obvious flaw in Andre's plan to stop pollution by selling air in plastic bottles that can easily pollute the ocean, which gives the Mayor a lot of bad press, and even though she's the one to say this, Mylene still shames her for ignoring her attempts to get people to protest because she was busy. Yes, the show is seriously trying to blame Marinette for not doing enough to help the environment on top of her various other responsibilities like PROTECTING THE CITY OF PARIS ON A DAILY BASIS.

The families of the kids come to support the protest, and Andre tries to call Gabriel for help, but he basically tells him to figure it out himself, supporting my earlier theory in the process. He transforms into Shadowmoth and sends an Akuma and an Amok to Andre. This transforms him into Malediktator again and and gives him a Sentimonster ally, the titular Mega Leech.

Mega Leech is another example of a Sentimonster with a simple design but a really interesting set of powers. As soon as its summoned, Malediktator jumps into his mouth and summons an army of minature clones of himself (making me wonder why they didn't call the Sentimonster “Micromanager”) to jump into the ears of civilians and control them directly like Plankton in that one episode of SpongeBob. It's a pretty terrifying concept and a really clever extension of Malediktator's mind control powers.

Adrien transforms into Cat Noir and tries fighting off the Malediktator clones, but obviously gets overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. Marinette soon pretends to be possessed by a Malediktator clone to get Mylene to run away while she transforms, once again summoning her Lucky Charm as soon as she meets up with Cat Noir because the animators really want to show off the new suit. She uses the Lucky Charm, a single ice skate, to break the mayoral sash around one of the Malediktator clones and frees the Akuma and Amok, but Mega Leech is still around, along with the brainwashed civilians. She and Cat Noir realize that the Akumas and Amoks must have multiplied when Malediktator cloned himself. Ladybug tells Cat Noir to distract the Malediktator clones (the latter actually acknowledging how he always has to do that)

Ladybug meets up with Mylene in the sewer where she had escaped to earlier, only to find the girl crying. Ladybug offers Mylene the Mouse Miraculous, but she turns her down because of how scared she is. Unlike when they tried to do the same thing by having Zoe doubt herself in “Queen Banana”, this scene makes sense because Mylene has consistently been shown to be a very timid person. It feels much more believable to see this from her. Granted, it's undermined by Ladybug saying that Mylene is already like a superhero because of her protesting for a good cause. I get she's trying to reassure her, but the whole environmental lesson is kind of muddled by saying Marinette doesn't care about the environment because of how busy she was FIGHTING CRIME. Thankfully, the lesson is more about bravery being able to move onward in spite of fear.

Nevertheless, this still motivates Mylene to take the Mouse Miraculous and transforms into Polymouse.

And boy, is it bad. I'm not trying to body shame Mylene here, I'm glad they didn't try and slim her down either, but I'm really not a fan of the color scheme for the suit. With the use of pink and white, it looks way too similar to Pigella.

I get that they were trying to make Mylene look like a mouse, but I'm just really not a fan of the white gloves and boots. They stick out compared to Pigella, where they actually blended in with the color scheme. Then there's the actual suit itself. Why give the suit a hood if you're going to make it yet another skintight jumpsuit? At least with Carapace, they had more armor to help him resemble a turtle, but there's no excuse here. And finally, the hair. How can you take a girl with a very vibrant hairstyle, make it pink when transforming, cover it up, and then call it a day? There are just so many questionable design choices here. I don't think it's as laughably bad as Shadowmoth's suit, but it's really one of the weakest hero suits to be introduced recently.

I'd give my thoughts on how to improve it, but thankfully one of my anons gave their own ideas for a redesign.

Thank you to whoever sent this in. You certainly get character design better than some of the animators on this show, and that's saying a lot given they're supposedly better than the ones at Pixar.

Ladybug gives Polymouse the ice skate to use as a makeshift flail with her weapon, a jump rope, while she fights the Maledikator clones. Polymouse uses her power, Multitude, which turns her into a swarm of miniature clones to take on the horde of Malediktator clones and free the brainwashed civilians. Ladybug meets up with Cat Noir, but big surprise, Cat Noir gets brainwashed by a Malediktator clone. Sure, Polymouse frees him from the control, but I'm surprised Ladybug isn't more used to this happening by now.

Ladybug then gathers several temp heroes to help them out. She gives Kagami the Dragon Miraculous to become Ryuko, Nino the Turtle to become Carapace, Max the Horse to become Pegasus, and she gives back the Bee Miraculous to the super amazing Zoe so she can once again become the world's greatest superhero, Vesperia. There’s a brief joke where Cat Noir rushes to join the team pose, which could be seen as foreshadowing for future events, and if it is, good job, writers.

Pegasus uses his Voyage to teleport Vesperia above Mega Leech, where she uses her Venom on the Sentimonster, while Ryuko uses her Wind Dragon to gather all the scattered Akumas and Amoks freed by Polymouse for Carapace to trap in his Shelter. Ladybug purifies all the Akumas and Amoks, gives Andre a Magical Charm, tells him to rethink the Oxygen Project, and the heroes leave where Ladybug takes back all their Miraculous.

Back at the park, Andre decides to plant more trees in what's obviously not a desperate attempt to save his reputation. He may say he's doing the right thing, but I doubt investors will be happy that the project's being aborted just like that. We get one more hilarious moment where Marinette stutters around Adrien, who soon goes home and gets sent to his room by his father (because we just needed an Angstdrien Depreste scene this episode for some reason), who fidgets with his ring and stares ominously as the episode ends. And in case you live under a rock, this reignited a certain fan theory I'll be talking about in another post.

Overall, I thought this was a pretty decent episode. The environmentalism subplot was pretty standard for episodes like this, with how the antagonist is a rich asshole who doesn't see how he's harming the environment, and gets his mind changed by a hopeful youth. I'm glad Andre isn't Captain Planet villain levels of evil here, though I am glad the episode acknowledges that there's no single solution to stopping pollution, and that there needs to be more unity if we need to help the planet's situation.

While it had a bumpy first act, things really started to get interesting as soon as the action started. Questionable design aside, I thought Polymouse (who didn't even name herself in the episode) had a good first outing with the use of her powers coupled with the use of the Lucky Charm. The first act with Mylene really showcased her character and her courage in the face of adversity well. Part of me kind of wishes we could have seen her interact with Ivan while she was transformed, but then again, he was still brainwashed I think.

The other heroes honestly felt shoehorned in during the climax. I get that they helped gather all the Akumas and Amoks, but there was really no buildup to them appearing like in other episodes with multiple heroes.

The one major problem I have is how the episode tries to blame Marinette for not being as kind as Mylene because she didn't know about the protest, even though, as I have stated multiple times, SHE ROUTINELY SAVES PARIS EVERY EPISODE. I think that counts as saving the planet.

This episode had some flaws, but it was still pretty enjoyable, and it was one of the better episodes this season so far.

#immaturity of thomas astruc #iota #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug sugar #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #adrien agreste #cat noir #chat noir #mylene haprele #polymouse #nino lahiffe #carapace #max kante #pegasus #kagami tsurugi #ryuko #ryuuko #zoe lee #vesperia #gabriel agreste #hawkmoth #hawk moth #shadowmoth #shadow moth #andre bourgeois #malediktator #chloe bourgeois #queen bee #queen b

[joontier]

Subliminal in Scrubs | V2; report xii 

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: PG-15 | genre: humor, workplace relationships

warnings: none to note

word count: 2.6k

g/n: jungkook is a brat wbk; also,,, hoseok here is supposedly as old as seokjin heh i had an internal debate whether or not i should include two other scenes but aslkdfjkasljfas but i ended up with this instead skjff hope yall enjoy!! 

[taglist]:  @nottodayjjk @ditttiii @zeharilisharaban @btsbunny07 @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @aamxxrii @codeinebelle @btsmakesmehappy @stargukkie @moonchild1

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) |  navi. | m.list

The orientation went by like a breeze with Ms. Narae’s quick run throughs of Woocheon’s clinical processes and systems, training programs, hospital expectations, and the explanation of the rest of the map of the hospital you weren’t able to cover during your tour earlier. Before she wraps up, she retrieves your IDs from underneath the table and places them on top of the desk for everyone to get later.  She dismisses the orientation exactly ten minutes before twelve, requesting everyone to head straight to their department’s on-call room after the break.

Soomin, who you’ve recently discovered to have her own Youtube channel, takes out her phone and records a video. You watch from the side as Soomin does her thing, until she tries to call you all over and officially introduce you as good friends turned work colleagues to all her subscribers. 

You hadn’t really expected this whole vlogger thing from her, especially when Soomin was a bit reserved when you were first acquainted with each other, but then again, as your friendship grew, you realized that she had a bit of Chohee in her as well and you thought that’s what caused you to gravitate towards her naturally. 

“Anybody up for lunch?” Soomin asks, rubbing her hands together after she finishes her short recording and tucks her phone back in her pocket. “Yeah, I’m starving...” you murmur, placing a hand on your belly as you hear your stomach grumble its complaint. 

“I heard Woocheon is known to have the best hospital food in Korea. Ever.” Jungkook says, looking around. You’re starting to get skeptical about how Jungkook is lingering around Jimin...Or was it the other way around now? “Shall we?” With Jungkook’s undeniable proposition, Soomin briefly glances at your reluctant face, her own lips pursing with your reaction. “Fine,” you sigh. 

There’s no getting rid of Jungkook now. 

Woocheon’s cafeteria...does not look like a cafeteria at all. 

You weren’t expecting an...urban haven of some sort, a portion of the hospital that you had least envisioned to what seems to be the warmest part of Woocheon. The laminated flooring, faux wooden grain wall panels, along with the suspended lights from this wave-like uneven wooden ceiling - it was as picturesque as a spread on an interior design magazine. 

The interior could easily outrival any other kitchen in the city. “Are you sure this is not some hotel we just walked into?” Jimin questions as he marvels over the sleek urban design of the cafeteria. There’s even a café - which you recognize holds the same logo as Good Day café. You ought to confirm this with Jimin later. 

As you near the serving area, the unmistakable aroma of roast beef fills your senses, making you hungrier than you were just seconds before. “Please don’t tell me Woocheon is actually serving roast beef...” 

You practically salivate at the sight of the food in the counters, a lot of which you realized were influenced by western food culture. There were three different kinds of salad to choose from, baked potatoes, burgers, seafood stew, stir-fried meat, as well as the Korean classic side dishes that you’d never miss in a meal.  And, true to your trusty sense of smell, roast beef was at the end of the line up in all its roasted glory.  

“Yeap,” Soomin says as she turns to face you, “You have three options for the sauce too: mushroom gravy, pepper sauce, or truffle sauce,” Soomin replies matter-of-factly, pointing at the farther end of the food counter. 

“Oh I love this place already!” Exclaims Jimin who’s undecided between eating to his heart’s content and risking a stomachache on the first day of work, or sacrifice half of the dishes for a later time in your stay at Woocheon. Thankfully, Jimin decides on the former. 

“Make sure you have your IDs ready,” Jungkook announces as he joins the line after you. “You’ll have to tap it against this tiny device then they will automatically deduct the total amount of the food you got from your account.”  

Jimin’s face falls instantly at the realization. Jungkook claps the other man’s back, face crumpled as he keeps his laughter in. “Still love this place, Jimin-ssi? Don’t worry now, the three of us can pretend we didn’t hear anything at all.” 

With features forlorn, Soomin makes a hilarious attempt to appease Jimin’s disappointment by stating facts - “Jimin-ah. Hospital food isn’t free.” 

“Yeah. I realize that now,” Jimin replies, an ingenuine smile playing on his lips. 

“Cheer up though! Ms. Narae did mention faculty and staff get a five percent discount on all hospital services...just so happened that they included the cafeteria there as well.” 

Albeit reluctant about the price, Soomin manages to convince your entire group to try out the roast beef for once (and probably your last too. Figures.) “Oh, and by the way, there is one thing that’s free actually. It’s the drink of the day - free for all staff. One each, and available during lunch only.” 

Your eyes travel to the end of the counter straight away at Soomin’s reminder. Calculating the number of cartons left and the people left in the queue, you’re beyond pleased at the fact that you’ll be able to get a free 250ML carton of banana milk today, and also the last person to do so. 

Unfortunately for you, a staff member returns to the counter and retrieves a tetra pack, claiming it was for a senior doctor who forgot to claim the drink. Much to your dismay, a middle-aged man in a white coat was waving to the counter, with his other hand pointing to his tray to prove that he really wasn’t able to take any milk with him. You can’t hide the scowl that creeps on your face. 

Through your peripheral vision, you notice Jungkook closely monitoring the milk as well, the same look of disappointment evident on his face. Maybe losing the milk wasn’t that bad. After all, if you couldn’t one, Jungkook wouldn’t be able to score one either. 

While Jimin checks out his food, one of the kitchen staff suddenly retrieves another carton from the other side of the counter, mumbling about how it must’ve fallen over earlier. You were just about to grab it when the lady at the till calls you next, and you’re forced to move your tray sideward so she can calculate the total amount of your order.  

When you look up to grab your free drink, Jungkook reaches out at the same time and manages to snatch the milk quicker than you. “Hey!” Jungkook simply shrugs his shoulders at your indignant tone. “Sorry darling, finders keepers.” 

You stare at him in disbelief, until the lady calls for Jungkook next, a little too loud for your liking. Your eyeroll comes almost involuntarily, and you shake your head as you follow where Jimin and Soomin were headed to as they look for a seat. 

Jungkook arrives shortly after you do, so you immediately lose the chance to rant about your annoyance towards the latter. He decides to sit across you and you don’t have the chance to complain about it either when he sticks the straw in his milk while he smirks at you. 

What an actual kid. 

You promised yourself you won’t let him get to you, choosing inner peace over fighting with a brat. Besides, two can play at this game, and it’s going to take more than a small carton of milk for him to truly vex you, so you simply smile at him back, returning the favor (of course, while secretly wishing he might choke on his banana milk too).  

“Would you guys mind if I recorded a little bit?” Murmurs of agreement are heard across the table. “Alrightey then,” says Soomin, “This time, none of you boys will be able to escape the camera this time around.” Just as you’d expected, Jimin and Jungkook whine in chorus, vocally expressing their petulance towards Soomin’s ‘vloggering’. 

“Hey! For all you know, you two might even bring more subscribers when I put you two as my thumbnail!” 

“I’m shy…” Jimin argues as he poorly covers his face with his small ID, yet continues to peek through the small gap between the card and the lanyard. 

Soomin rolls her eyes at their childishness and records her food first, praising how surprisingly appetizing the hospital food is. She proceeds to pan the camera towards you as you say hi for the second time today. As Soomin moves onto Jimin, he instantly puts his ID down and waves at the camera sporting a cute smile. “Everyone, this is what ‘camera shy’ looks like nowadays.” 

On the other hand, Jungkook, shameless as ever, pretends to not pay any regard to the camera but he decides to chew on his food with much suave, jaw tightening with every bite of the beef. Soomin calls on Jungkook to say hi, to which he responds by introducing himself and punctuating his statement with a flirty wink. 

For some reason, you feel your stomach drop at the action, causing you to look away momentarily while Soomin instantaneously switches back to her front camera, “Okay, everyone, let’s just pretend these two weren’t flirting with the camera just now.” Soomin shakes her head at the two, deciding that was enough content about lunch at the hospital cafeteria. 

“Shame the camera couldn’t handle it,” Jimin says, pouting as he places a hand over his chest. 

“Maybe it was the lady behind the camera that couldn’t,” adds Jungkook who continues to wink, alternating both his eyes before making a weird face. 

“Okay Jeon. I think that’s enough winking for today.” 

Jungkook wouldn’t stop though and Soomin finally looks at you for help, “Diagnosis: winkitis, ophthalmologist recommends immediate enucleation.”

“Of course! How could I forget? A wink for this young lady over here too.” Jungkook turns to you now but you simply squint your eyes at him as you fake choking on thin air, “I think I might have lost my appetite altogether.” 

As the three of you head back to the locker rooms to retrieve your stuff before going to the surgery department, another hospital staff stops briefly on their way to greet Soomin. It’s the third time in ten minutes and you’re starting to think Soomin knows not just ‘someone’ from the hospital. Strangely enough, they all seemed like they came from different departments too. This particular person must be of high authority or someone really famous to have people greet her as often as this. 

When you round the corner, at the end of the corridor is a lady in formal attire, sporting the same ID as yours  and it’s Soomin who approaches this person this time. As she pulls the person aside, she urges the three of you to go ahead, telling you she’ll catch up in a moment, leaving you sandwiched between Jimin and Jungkook who tower over you easily. 

“Jimin, do you happen to know who it is exactly she knows here?” 

The blond shakes his head no. “She’s never mentioned anybody in particular...all I know too is that she knows somebody here.” 

“Some relatives perhaps? Maybe she’s a family member of a renowned doctor here?” 

“How about her Youtube channel? Maybe she’s famous then? How many followers does she have?” 

You quickly tap on Youtube on your phone with Jungkook’s prodding, looking up her channel on the app. “It says here she’s got quite the following actually... “ you tilt the screen for them to see, “six thousand followers…” 

“That can’t be it. The second one who greeted her was at least in his mid-fifties...Boomers couldn’t have possibly been following...what does she vlog about again? Um… a day in the life of a med student…” 

From behind you, you faintly hear a ‘goodbye’ and you clear your throat, alerting the two of Soomin’s return. “What were you guys going on about here?” 

Jungkook chuckles, smoothly making up an alibi as he takes your phone in his hands, “Hope you don’t mind us checking out your channel…” Surely enough, your screen was showing a video of Soomin studying for her finals. 

“As long as you subscribe, it’s fine with me.” She gives you all a thumbs up. “It’s been a while since I posted anything though...Maybe if we get to the on-call room early, maybe I could film a few shots too! Come on!”  Soomin hooks your arm in hers and drags you to the locker rooms, leaving the two boys standing there in the middle of the hallway.

You figure the four of you were the first interns to arrive, as most of the doctors lounging around were either in their scrubs or heading out for lunch. “Soomin,” Jungkook seemingly deep in thought, taps the girl’s shoulder. 

“Hmm?” 

“Remember when you bumped into me on the day of our graduation...you were with someone right? Um...Jung...Ho...I can’t quite remember his name…” 

“Oh you mean Jung Hoseok? He’s my cousin.” 

As Jungkook opens his mouth to reply, someone calls Soomin from the other side of the room. “Soomin! You’re here!” You spot the surgeons you’ve met during the hospital tour earlier this morning - Dr. Min Yoongi, Dr. Kim Seokjin, and Dr. Kim Namjoon. You all bow promptly as soon as they stand up. 

“I didn’t really have that much of a choice,” Soomin grumbles as she gets squished with each of the doctors’ hugs. “Come on! You’re saying that as if Woocheon isn’t any good at all!” 

The three of you stand awkwardly in the corner while Soomin and the other doctors mingle with each other. You nudge Jungkook’s elbow, “Hey what’s with Soomin’s cous--?” 

“Oh right! These are my friends - ________, Park Jimin, and Jeon Jungkook.  We’re all under your care now.” The three doctors call you over, extending their arms out for a handshake, “Ready to lose your social life?” Dr. Min asks, his bright tone contrasting his drift. 

“It’s an honor to meet you Dr. Min, Dr. Kim, and Dr. Kim.” You bow curtly. “Oh doctor? It's too much! Call us sunbae instead. Oppa is cool too when we’re not working.” Dr. Seokjin’s handshake lingers a little longer than usual and you feel your cheeks start to heat up. “Besides, I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time.” 

Yoongi visibly grimaces at Seokjin’s words, while Namjoon covers his face with his hands, mumbling, “Hyung.... For the love of god, please make sure the patients never ever hear that…” 

Namjoon’s reaction elicits laughter from the whole group, but someone’s laugh stands out above all and it’s coming from the other side of the door. Soomin seems to recognize the voice instantly. “He’s here!” 

“Soooommmiiiiiinnn!!!” A loud voice echoes throughout the room. He hugs Soomin briefly, and addresses the rest of you. “Wassup bros?” The newcomer gives each of the surgeons a dap in greeting then turns to greet you three. 

“The whole gang's here!” He says, rubbing his chin, “Let me guess...Jeon Jungkook, _________, and Park Jimin, right?” 

Eyes wide in surprise, you nod slowly. “Soomin here has told me all about you!” Soomin is behind the man, drawing a hand across her throat. “My name’s Jung Hoseok, by the way. Nice to finally meet you all.” 

“He’s the next chairman of the Woocheon Medical City,” Seokjin whispers as he winks in your direction. Hoseok elbows him in the ribs. “No I’m not.” 

“Ah yes. Correction. Not yet.” Seokjin mumbles, massaging his sides. You, Jimin, and Jungkook look at each other with knowing gazes. So that’s the ‘someone’ Soomin knows. 

Woocheon ought to be...interesting.

© joontier 2021

#jungkook x reader #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #btsghostie #jeon jungkook #bts aus #bts fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #doctors au