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itsamarvelfan-writes · 8 months

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Fight With Me

Warnings: angst, fluff, sexual themes (nothing graphic), not edited

Summary: You want Steve to fight with you, for you, but he doesn’t have the same thoughts.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

A/N: I’m more active on Wattpad at the moment because it’s just more portable for writing right now. My laptop is being used for school only since I’m starting fresh at uni again. This is written with a new sort of writing style I tried out at this creative writing club I joined. Anyway, enjoy this!

Steve never asked you for much.

He always stood against the counter during any meal times, letting you rummage through cabinets and the refrigerator to see what you wanted to make and eat. He followed you around when you two were out shopping, letting you pull out shirts, put them against his chest, and then choose whether or not he was going to buy it. He would sit down whenever you asked him to, stand if you ever needed him to, and lay down beside you when you had a long day.

If you ever asked him for any advice, he would shrug and grin, saying you were better off deciding.

You usually frowned nowadays, wondering why he never put forth his own two cents. You were willing to listen, you had never shut anyone down before. So it confused you to no length when he never put his thoughts out on display for you.

"What's that frown for?" Steve asked, glancing over at you from where he was cutting the green peppers.

You shook your head and turned away, unable to stomach Steve's closed responses anymore. It had gotten to a point where you were beginning to think he was never in this relationship to begin with. That this relationship meant nothing and he was just here to past the time. And who were you to just turn up dating someone as kind and handsome and caring and popular as Steve fucking Rogers.

He was Captain America for fuck's sake.

He had woman lining up behind him, begging for just one chance with America's golden boy. And here you were with that one chance, hoping and praying to whatever god you decided to believe in that he wasn't in love with you. Not like this. Not if he was going to let you make every single decision. Not if he wasn't even going to fight for you if you made a bad choice.

"Y/N?" Steve tried, voice full of concern and worry.

You two had never fought. Not even once. Just because you were the one making all the verdicts. There was never an argument from him after you made a choice. He just accepted it and went on with his life as if it never effected him. As if your opinion was all he ever wanted.

That was true. It couldn't be true, you knew that.

You saw the way he hid his grimace when he bit into a dish he didn't quite like as much as you. He hid it well, but he had his little giveaways; the way his mouth quirked slightly, or the way his left eye twitched, or the way his leg started bouncing. He would rarely wear the salmon-coloured shirt—the one you never liked either and got for him anyway, hoping to engage him in an argument. It didn't work. He took it in and housed it, thanking you and giving you compliments on your style.

Your frown deepened.

"Y/N?" Steve was standing beside you then, looking at you with the same concern that was laced into his voice. "Are you okay?"

"Yep," you replied, popping the 'p' and then muttering, "as much as I can be."

"What d'you mean, love?" Steve's eyebrows furrowed and you said nothing, mentally cursing his super-hearing. You moved backwards to where Steve was and grabbed the cutting board with the cut green papers on them. You poured them into the sauce and ignored Steve's pursed lips.

"Did I do something?" Steve grabbed your elbow gently when you started to move away from him again.

"No, you didn't do anything and that's the problem," you finally answered, tone a bit snappy and harsh, but you were too into your head to notice it. Steve let your elbow go, his blue eyes firmly locking you in place when he caught your eyes.

"What—didn't do—I'm so confused, love." Steve's jumbled words and your jumbled thoughts made you want to cry.

"Why don't you ever say anything?"

"I do—"

"No, you don't." That was a final tone. There was no need for a further explanation, but you had this pent up rant and frustration that you gave him the explanation. "You let me choose everything for you, Steve. Your clothes, your shoes, your food, EVERYTHING! You don't choose anything and you what? I'm sick of it! It makes me sick to think I'm controlling your every little thing! It makes me sick to look at you in the eyes and tell you that I wanna eat this or that and you agree to it! Without saying anything in return!

"I could be asking for brussel sprouts and you would say okay even though I know you hate it! You hate that shirt I chose out and said sure I'll wear it as if it doesn't matter what you think to me! I care about what you think! About what you want! About whatever you think! I care! But you never let me know what goes through that thick skull of yours, Steve! You care about me and that's all I ever hear!"

You took a breath, tears flowing down your cheeks and sniffling when you felt that familiar tickle in your nose.

"So tell me, Steve, why don't you ever say anything?"

Steve looked ashamed, pained, and confused all at once. His eyes were darting around with whatever overwhelming feelings were going through his head. You wished you could have gone easier and softer on him, just as he has always been with you, but you had exploded. You didn't even know if half of what you said made any sense, but you got your mind out there and that's what mattered to you at the moment.

That and Steve's response.

A few seconds of silence and your stomach started to drop.

A few minutes of silence and your heart followed your stomach.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," Steve started, voice thick with emotions. "I didn't think—I didn't know that you felt like that. I just—I found it—I thought that this would've been avoided."

He didn't give you more so that meant you would have to ask him. Again.

"What would be avoided—"

"This!" He pointed between the two of you and heart lost a beat. "These arguments and fights! I wanted a peaceful life. I love you! I love you enough to swallow my dislikes!"

"I never asked you to do that!"

"You didn't have to!"

"Why would you assume I wanted—"

"It's what I wanted Y/N!"

Silence.

"I wanted to live peacefully with you. I wanted a life full of peace and love." Steve's blue eyes were trying to find yours, even though yours were trying to find anywhere else to look.

Tears were streaming down both of your faces by then. The argument was new. Arguing was new. New wounds were open and oozing out of them was hurt. Hurt was being transformed into words. Words were being thrown around and used as knives. Knives could be used to make wounds.

And you were back to square one.

"To love me, Steve, you need to accept the fact that we will fight. We will fight and come back to each other because we love each other." Your heart constricted in your chest when Steve shook his head. "Don't you love me enough to trust it?"

"I do." No hesitation on his part. He gave you the answer you were hoping for and you let out a sigh of relief.

"Then argue with me. Fight with me. Tell me what you dislike even if I like it." You reached out your hand and intertwined it with Steve's. He stepped closer to you and you looked up into his eyes, breath getting caught with the intensity of his pupils dilating more the longer he looked at you.

"I want to do what other couples do, Steve. Fight and make up. Argue and make up. Bicker with each other for no reason and laugh when we kiss. I want that, Steve. I don't want to get that sickly feeling when you agree with everything I say. It feels toxic."

"Okay," Steve breathed out, his free hand coming up to clear your cheeks of your tears and then tilted your face with your chin. "Can we make up, now?"

"Depends on how we're making up," you said, lips an inch away from his. His eyes flickered between your lips and your eyes. He found what he was looking for and he closed the inch between you, kissing you deeply as possible.

Kissing him made you feel like you were floating. When he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, you let out a moan, breaking the kiss. He never strayed away from you though, kissing down your neck and laying you back onto the bed.

"Do you want to—"

"Do what you want today, Steve, please," you whispered, hoping you never broke the bubble surrounding the two of you.

"Anything?" His eyes gleamed with something you had never before. Something that set your whole being on fire.

"Please," was the one word you come up with.

Steve didn't take long to undress the two of you. As said, he did what he wanted, asking you if it was alright and if you were okay at all the right times. He made sure you were comfortable and then helped you reach your high. The two of you shared hushed whispers, moans, and other sweet nothings in the dim lit room.

"If that's how we're going to make up every time we fight," Steve started, looking down at your face on his chest, "then I might start picking fights again."

"Like the good ol' days?" You joked, voice groggy with sleep.

"Something like that." His laugh rumbled in his chest and you kissed the spot right over his heart.

"I love fighting with you."

"I think I'm beginning to understand why you wanted regular fight sessions," Steve said, hand slipping down your spine and drawing out a shudder.

"Who said anything about regular?" You teased, chin coming to rest on his chest as you looked up at him. His eyes darkened and he rolled the two of you over.

As he hovered over you, he whispered, "Fight with me?"

#x reader #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #x y/n #marvel mcu #steve rogers x y/n #steven grant steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #avenger x reader #captain america #captain america x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america x you #captain america x female reader

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bxsotted · 2 years

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An Absolute Point in Time | Stephen Strange x F!Reader

pairing : Stephen Strange x F!reader

synopsis : Apprentice!Reader gets tired of waiting for Stephen to make the first move, so she decides to give him a little push.

words : 702

themes : fluff

warnings : none - there's a very small suggestion that Stephen and reader have had sex before but it's nothing major, honestly

˜Masterlist˜

💖 Reblogs and feedback support my work 💖

A/N : Made this one based on a tik tok audio that comes from the movie "The tourist". This was written when I first started writing, so I used the audio as a kind of crutch to try to find my own style in writing. It's not my proudest work but it's something! And though I've been hyperfixating on Munson lately (as many of you might've noticed) I refuse to let go of my dearest. I hope you like this little piece!! <33

“Invite me to dinner, Stephen.”

Stephen paused. He blinked for a moment before he slowly looked up at Y/N, wondering if he had misheard her or not.

“What?” he uttered. Confusion painting his features, not wanting to jump into any conclusions. He might be a fool but he sure wasn’t about to make an idiot of himself by assuming that she had just…

Y/N simply stared at the man in front of her. Her hands gently folded on her knees as she observed the dark haired man registering what was just said, before scurrying through his mind for the right words.

Stephen opened his mouth, an unusual aura of doubt lingering on him as he began to speak. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he looked away for a moment. This new found insecurity was washing over his body and making him wonder if he would be able to pull this off as smoothly as he had imagined countless times. He pursed his lips slightly, breathing in silently as if bracing himself, mentally cheering himself on before he delivered the typical line he had used on many others before her.

“Would you like to have dinner?” He couldn’t quite understand what it was about the simple question that made him feel anxious. All he knew is that this was the first time in years that the sensation had come over him. But surely this is the invitation Y/N was looking for. There’s no other way to invite her to dinner—

“Women don’t like questions.”

He blinked, his train of thought interrupted by the words that Y/N uttered - a teasing tone behind them. The Sanctum’s library filled with silence for a few seconds.

“Join me for dinner.”

“Too demanding.”

“I thought you liked that.”

She smirked, chortled a little even. Rolled her eyes at Stephen’s typical attitude but she bit her tongue. She knew that if she entertained Stephen’s little comment, they’d derail the conversation. And she didn’t want that, she had grown tired of waiting for this moment. She figured - if he can’t do it on his own, might as well give him a little push.

So she simply stayed quiet, looking up at her mentor, waiting patiently. Observing.

“Join me for dinner?”

“Another question.”

Stephen tilted his head slightly, searching through his thoughts, his gaze locked on Y/N’s. Those eyes. Those god damn eyes. The pale E/C that painted her irises, glistening with the sunlight that poured through the windows.

The eyes that seemed to make time stop, that could make anyone drop. They seemed to have him wrapped around her finger before he even knew what had happened, and kept pulling him back despite his futile efforts of resisting. Like a sinner who would never repent, he let those eyes tempt him time and time again. Regret and guilt long lost concepts whenever he found himself inevitably gravitating towards her.

He took a step back, Y/N never moving from her seat. Her expression was the same, though the curiosity in her eyes gave her away. Stephen let himself take a good look at her. The way the light bathed her, her hair tucked behind her ears, framing her face perfectly. He beheld the way that her belt hugged her waist, accentuating her figure. Her long legs exposed as the skirt she had decided to use that day fell on the sides of her thighs - the heels that she wore emphasizing the length of them.

And suddenly it hit him.

“I’m having dinner…” he let the words hang around in the air for a moment as he searched for the perfect way to wrap up his invitation. “…If you’d care to join me.”

Her lips, plump and soft, curled up into a smile. She was beaming - the light flush across her cheeks making her look even more radiant than before.

And this is where he wondered why it had taken him so long to ask her out; why he kept pushing her away and holding himself back from happiness. He could be so foolish at times. But that didn’t matter right now, all that mattered now was this.

This was an Absolute Point in time.

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mikkomacko · 3 years

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Sweet As Honey 18

Hello everyone! Here she is! Thank you all so much for being so patient with me and this chapter. I hope it lives up to the hype and the wait lol. I'd also like to say that I will still be writing and finishing this series as well as my other in progress ones. However, I'm currently feeling like I'm not that interested in Harry right now and I feel like it's mostly all the drama and everything going on with him right now so updates will be slow. Also I've changed my theme to a Marvel x One Direction theme because I've decided to take one of my Bucky Barnes plot and actually publish it. I'll still post Harry because of course I love him but he won't be the main focus of this blog anymore.

Thanks for waiting and reading. Hope you enjoy the chapter! X

Harry's good under pressure. At least looking from the outside in, he is. It's a skills he's picked up from boxing. Always pretend you know what's going on. No surprises, no shocks. If he's in a fight and his opponent is stronger or faster than he originally thought, he doesn't show it. Acting like it was expected, like he planned it rattles others and helps him maintain his grace.

He keeps that same approach when it comes to interviews.

Liam meets him outside the gym, waving with a bright smile that Harry just smiles at, shocked to find his trainer in the parking garage rather than the ring.

"What's going on mate?" Harry greets, trying to step around him to get to the stairs but Liam halts him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Gotta reporter here who wants to chat with you about recovering from your concussion and reaching the finals."

His tone is laced with hesitance, lips pursed in suppressed grimace and Harry doesn't blame him. Liam knows how much Harry hates interviews. They're his least favorite part of the job. He's here to box and get paid, to provide for his family, not to tell the world every detail of his life.

"Oh," Harry mumbles, shrugging and stepping up to the door. "Alright. Only for a few minutes though, wanna get home a little early today."

If Liam is surprised by Harry's ease he doesn't show it. "Got something going on?"

Harry follows Liam inside, nodding to Mark at the front desk. "Y/n has just been exhausted lately and Arlo can't spend a second alone without screaming bloody murder. Just want to be there to make sure she's resting and Arlo's not being a pest."

"He's your son, of course he's being in a pest."

The comment leaves too much pride in Harry's chest for him to even care that Liam just insisted he himself is a pest. Besides, Harry knows he's clingy and a little too attached but that's just how his relationship with y/n is, and they love it.

In his private locker room,Harry finds the reporter, a young girl who can't be too far out of undergrad with dark hair and a bright red lips. She's sat on the bench, a notepad on her thigh and her phone resting next to it.

"Hello Mr. Styles." She greets, shaking his hand when he approaches her. "I'm Rebecca Weese."

Harry takes a seat next to her, nodding. "Nice to meet you. I don't have a lot of time today but I can answer a few of your questions if we can make it quick." He smiles guiltily, hoping to not come off as rude.

She nods, immediately glancing down at her notepad and crossing some things out. Harry assumes they're questions she's decided aren't important enough. "Is it ok if I record this? Just sound of course."

Again, he nods, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie as he waits for her to begin. Tapping at her phone, she places it between them to catch both voices and then scans her notes again.

"Correct me if I'm wrong but you've only been boxing for a few years, right?"

Harry shrugs. "I trained a lot when I was teenager, worked under Ted until he decided to bring me up to the pros. Was about 20 I think when that happened." He tries to stay vague, knowing he can't tell the public that his "training" was an illegal boxing ring.

"Five-Six years is a short amount of time to be included in a tournament like this one. Most contenders are well into their careers before being qualified to participate. What do you think has been the main factor in your success?"

Routine question, and he's got a routine answer. "I was fortunate enough to figure out early on that boxing is what I wanted to do and I think that helped out a lot. I also got a very good team behind me. My trainer, manager, my wife, they're all the main factors in my success. I'm very grateful to have them."

Rebecca smiles a bit, jotting down a few words. "Does your wife work in the industry?"

It's her casual tone, as if she were a friend just wanting to hear him brag about his lover that has him answering so honestly.

"No she works in design but I met her early in my career and she's always supported me. Takes care of me after bad matches and whatnot, always comes to my fights even if it means being on her feet for hours. Which isn't exactly her favorite thing at the moment with the baby-"

Harry stops, eyes widening a bit at what he's just revealed. Part of him wishes desperately that Rebecca didn't hear him but he knows that's impossible.

"I didn't know you're a father," she says kindly, sensing his panic. "Do you want to talk about it more or should I scratch that part?"

He doesn't know what makes him say it. A year ago he'd have fled the room if he were questioned about his family. Harry likes to keep them separate, to keep his kids away from his boxing. It's possibly a small part of him that's conditioned to keep his work a secret from his family even if he doesn't have to. But Rebecca's offer to drop the whole topic is what breaks him.

"S'ok," he says "I've got a son that's about a year old and another on the way."

Her eyes light up, beaming at him and he grins shyly but somehow proudly at the same time. "That's awesome. Congrats. I know your son's young but does he have any part in your career? Influence maybe?"

"He doesn't watch any of my fights or anything. Too young to be around violence like that but he does affect my fighting in a way. I used to go into boxing with just the mentality that I'm doing something I love, but now I've got the added success. A win means more support for my family and I want them to always have what they need so I've got sort of an edge there."

"Like having something to fight for?" She confirms, and Harry nods immediately.

"Yeah. I'd do anything for them and I think that makes me a bit dangerous in the ring."

No matter what, he'll always be fighting for them. Everything he does is for y/n and his boys.

The house smalls of tomato sauce and pasta when Harry walks in, mouth instantly watering and stomach rumbling. He had a light breakfast this morning before going to the gym and now that's he burnt off all that energy he reckons he could eat a horse. Dropping his keys on the table in the entryway, toeing off his sneakers, and dropping his gym bag to the floor, Harry makes a beeline for the kitchen. He's so caught up in wanting to eat he doesn't notice the TV playing a Disney movie or the two figures sprawled out on the couch until one of them is calling for him.

"Daddy!" Arlo's head pops up over the cushions, dimples sunk into his cheeks and eyes bright. Harry immediately changes course, coming up behind the couch and meeting Arlo's outstretched arms.

"'Ello bug," Harry greets, smacking a kiss to his cheek. Arlo coos happily, curling up against Harry's shoulder. Y/n is watching them with a small smile, a hand resting easily over the stretched fabric of his tee-shirt she's wearing. "And hello darling." He leans over the back of the couch to press a crooked kiss to her lips.

"Hi baby," she sits up, smiling dreamily at him. "How was the gym?"

Harry shrugs, adjusting Arlo on his hip. "Was good. I had an interview today about finals and....stuff." Her eyebrow quirks up at his hesitancy to continue.

"What stuff?"

Gnawing on his bottom lip, Harry drops his gaze to Arlo. "You, Arlo, the baby." She doesn't respond immediately and he knows it’s because she’s trying to analyze him. He's fairly private about his family, especially his children and the only reason he'd informed the world of Arlo was to get people off his back about leaving y/n, so he knows she's probably confused by his ease with talking about the new baby.

"How'd it go?" She asks, pushing herself up from the couch with a hand on her belly. Without hesitation Harry reaches out to place his free hand over hers, moving her with him towards the kitchen. "Where are we going?"

"M'starving darling," he says and his stomach grumbles in agreement, making Arlo gurgling back and nudge his foot into Harry's tummy. "But interview went well. Announced the pregnancy."

"You did?" She questions, perching herself on the counter stool with wide eyes. "Seems a bit early compared to Arlo's announcement."

Managing as best he can with one free hand, Harry retrieves a bowl from the cabinet and serves himself a heaping mountain of spaghetti. "Just came out if m'being honest," he shrugs, settling into the stool next to her with Arlo still glued to his lap. "'sides it's different this time. He was my first baby and I was scared."

He doesn't realize that she's fallen silent until he's slurping back noodles and she doesn't scold him. Curiously, Harry rotates just enough to look at her. Y/n is staring at him, eyes big and moony when he mumbles a suspicious "wha'?"

"You were scared?"

Swallowing down his food, he nods. Her intent gaze brings a blush to his cheeks and he has to drop his eyes to peer down at Arlo. "Y-yeah. Didn't know if he'd like me as his dad, ya know?"

Harry's never said those words out loud, now that he's come to think of it. Whenever something's pertained to Arlo, Harry was always the positive reinforcement, the one reassuring y/n about them stepping into parenthood. He never really told her how much it scared him because he didn't want to scare her.

"I-I didn't know that," she mumbles. "Why didn't you say anything?"

He shrugs, lifting his gaze from Arlo to y/n. "Because I wanted to be a good dad. Ya know, like the kind that can kill spiders and scare aware bad dreams.....Just wanted to be strong I guess."

He doesn't say it, but he knows she's picked up the fear he won't acknowledge. He doesn't want to be his dad. His father was great but the sad thing is, everything great about him was brought out by alcohol. Des needed that poison to combat his own fears and insecurities, and Harry doesn't want to be like that too. He doesn't want to leave his kids the same way he was left.

"Being scared doesn't make you weak Harry."

She leans over to press a tender kiss to his jaw, belly brushing against his side, and he thinks about those words for the remainder of the day.

Crouched down, Harry steers the shopping cart with one hand and guides Arlo along with the other one. By the way he's trudging along, Harry knows Arlo is getting tired of walking. It's good for him to practice though, so Harry leads him along for another few minutes before scooping him up in one arm.

"Did so well bug." Harry compliments, pecking Arlo's cheek. The toddler curls up into his chest, yawning. It's a bit difficult steering the cart with one hand but Harry manages, steadily making his way up and down each aisle. He gets baby cereal for Arlo, a couple bags of puffy hot Cheetos to stash in the cabinets, and he's stocking up on y/n's latest craving (spaghetti-o's and meatballs) when a familiar face rounds the corner.

Zayn is pushing a cart filled groceries, eyes scanning up and down the shelves and Harry curses under his breath. The last person he wants to see right now is Zayn. Last time they had a run in he said something that bothered y/n and Harry never wants anything to bother his girl.

In an attempt to hide, Harry pulls his hood up over his head, shrinking into his pullover and craning his neck to not make eye contact with his old friend. Grabbing a few cans of the fake pasta y/n is living off of, Harry sets them in the cart and quickly walks down the aisle. A man who looks a few years older than Harry moves towards him, stepping around Zayn and in front of Harry's cart.

"Excuse me," the man stops him, gaze dropping to the boy against his chest for half a second before regretfully meeting Harry's eyes. "m'so sorry to bother, didn't notice the little one-"

"It's fine." Harry cuts off, glancing at Zayn to make sure his back is still to them. It is and Harry relaxes a bit at that, but his curiosity grows. "How can I help you sir?"

The man smiles, grateful. "I just wanted to tell you that m'son and I are big fans and we're excited for your fight this weekend."

Harry knows he has fans, he's run into a few around the city but they're usually teens and kids that want an autograph. He's never had a grown man approach him about his career and it's odd. Flattering, but odd.

"Thanks man. I really appreciate your support." Harry says sincerely, smiling. The man nods in response, taking a step away from Harry. He moves to leave but stops last minute, turning back to Harry.

"Congrats on the baby news too." He says quickly, almost shy or embarrassed. Before Harry can even thank him, the man is rushing out a "have a good day" and then he's moving down the aisle.

Confused, Harry stands there for a moment trying to figure out what happened. He knew announcing the new baby would bring more attention to him in the media and he's not surprised that that man, who's clearly a fan, had already heard it. He is surprised that the man seemed almost scared to admit to Harry that he knows.

"Harry?"

Fuck.

He looks up, meeting the golden eyes that could only belong to Zayn. Harry doesn't even bother trying to smile at his old friend as he stands in front of Harry's cart. A lady maneuvers around them, murmuring a soft "excuse me sir." Harry scoots his cart over, smiling apologetically.

"How have you been man?"

Harry's gaze returns to it's impassive expression, glancing over Zayn's too-bright presence. "I've been good." Harry responds, moving Arlo to his other arm when he starts to lose feeling in his fingers. The movement draws Arlo out of his nap-like state, the toddler now noticing Zayn standing in front of them. Immediately his face scrunches into a look of annoyance.

If Zayn notices, he must not care because he smiles at Arlo, teeth dazzling. "That's good to hear. Congratulations on the baby, by the way! Saw the article up front. S'amazing!"

Article? Harry lips are just starting to form his question when his phone rings, the tune specific to y/n. "Sorry, gotta take this." Harry says in Zayn's direction, digging into his pocket and retrieving his phone. He hits answer before Zayn can even respond.

"Hi darling."

Harry wiggles Arlo into the basket. "Hi H. You still at the store?"

He pushes the cart down the aisle, not caring that he's left his old friend hanging. "Yeah I am. What's up"

The sound of a running faucet comes through the speaker. "Forgot to add yogurt bites to the list. Arlo ate the last of 'em last night and ya know how he is if he doesn't have any before bed."

Harry snorts, steering towards the baby food aisle. Arlo has fallen in love with yogurt bites and they've become his snack before bed. Harry thinks he shouldn't be having them every night and he'd tried to tell Arlo that two nights ago, but Arlo is a stubborn thing. He screamed his head off, ignored Harry's attempts at giving him fresh fruit instead, and then only calmed down after y/n nursed him.

"I'll grab 'em darling. No worries." He assures, tossing a couple bags of the bites into the cart. "Anything else?"

"Do we still have the old flower vases from our wedding in the garage?" She asks.

"Umm, I think so. You expecting flowers from a secret lover or something?" Harry jokes, eyes catching on a pack of bibs hanging in the aisle.

"Not unless you've got a trick up your sleeve Styles." She retorts.

He tosses a pack into the basket. "Buy you a whole flower shop if that's what ya want darling." Arlo grumbles from the baby seat of the cart, tiny fingers coming up to play with the rings on Harry's fingers that are locked around the steering bar.

"Don't worry about that, we've got enough flowers." Y/n laughs and he can hear her moving around the house. "Three bouquets just arrived with congratulations cards."

"What?"

"Guess the baby announcement was well accepted." She says. "We're getting lots of flowers for it."

Pushing towards the checkout, Harry frowns in confusion. "Got stopped by a fan today for the same thing. Can't believe it's such a big deal."

"Well you're more known now than when we were having Arlo." She reasons, and Harry hums his agreement. He passes the self checkouts, freezing when he spots numerous copies of his face on the ends of the aisle.

"Holy shit," he breathes, not even thinking about the innocent ears before him. Y/n gasps through the phone, scolding him for his language. "Sorry darling, s'just I'm bloody plastered all over the grocery store."

He reads over the cover of the sports magazine. It's got a big photo of him in the ring, gloves held up to his chin and jaw tight around his mouth guard. Next to it is a photo of him and y/n leaving a big fight awhile back. She's got her head down, hand snug in his as he leads her along. And written in bold yellows is "Harry Styles Expecting Baby #2 As He Prepares for Biggest Fight Yet!"

"They put me on the front page." He tells her, not bothering to flip open the article before he's quickly moving away from the display. "Why would they do that?"

When he did that interview, he thought it'd be a small, breezy section in the magazine. If he had known he'd be getting stopped in the grocery store and flowers sent to his house he wouldn't have said anything. As previously mentioned, he's a private guy, so having this detail projected in a way he wasn't warned about makes his stomach twist uncomfortably.

"It's alright Harry," y/n says reassuringly, knowing that he's become anxious at the publicity. "No harm done. It's just flowers bub and as long as we've got those vases in the garage, everyone will survive."

He chuckle weakly at her joke, picking an aisle so he can quickly checkout and go home. "Don't go digging around for them by yourself, don't need ya falling and getting hurt. I'll help ya when I get home."

"Aw my hero." She coos, and he knows she's teasing but it still makes him blush. God he loves her.

"Those bloody things are making my nose itch." Harry grumbles, aggressively rubbing the palm of his hand into his burning nostrils. He glares at the bouquet of peonies on the dresser, a gift from y/n's co-workers, and moves towards the bed.

Y/n is propped up against the headboard, a pair of his pajama bottoms on her legs but her shirt has been abandoned on the carpet by the bed. Arlo is attached to her hip, mouth latched to her nipple and she's stroking through his soft hair while he breastfeeds. Harry's heart throbs in his chest, warmed by the sight of his wife coddling their baby, and he's so fucking in love with her he's anxious to get Arlo into bed so he can have his way with her.

"I can't just throw them out, H." She sighs, pulling her gaze from the television to his pouty face. He huffs, running the damp towel in his hand through his hair one last time before haphazardly tossing it towards the closet. Kneeing his way up the bed, he curls into y/n's side and smiles when she tucks her arm around him.

"Stroke my hair too?" He mumbles, peering up with puppy eyes and she giggles before threading her fingers through his hair too. Arlo gurgles around a mouthful, bright green eyes opening to look at Harry. He worries for a moment that Arlo is going to get fussy and kick him away, but the toddler just blinks at him sleepily.

"Tha's ma boy." He coos fondly, squirming a hand over to pat Arlo's full tummy. Y/n giggles and continues to stroke his hair, Harry watching Arlo slowly be soothed to sleep. "Lemme get him to bed darling."

Grunting, he pushes himself up from the mattress and too his feet. Y/n transfers Arlo to his awaiting arms, swiping at the milk that dribbled out of his snoring lips and onto her skin. Harry leans down, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"Wanna have a shag when I get back?"

A shocked laugh bursts out of her, Harry's face lighting up at the sound as his heart swells. He was trying to be a bit silly, not enough to have her eyes crinkling like that, but he's happy she finds him funny.

"Sure baby." She breathes, still grinning. His stomach flutters, excitement bubbling in his belly and he nods quickly before moving across the room.

Arlo stays cuddled into Harry's neck as he flicks on the nightlight in the nursery and adjusts the blankets in the crib. Theo watched Harry from his bed in the corner, sleepy puppy eyes following his every move. He lays Arlo down, gently shushing him when he store and tucks Bunny into his side. With a peck to his head and a quiet "good night bug," Harry partially shuts the bedroom door and rushes back into the bedroom.

Y/n has already kicked off her bottoms, leaving her naked on their sheets and Harry groans as he works to catch up with her. His shirt is playfully tossed at y/n's grinning face, Harry laughing as he wiggles out of his sweats. Naked as the day he was born, Harry jumps onto his knees at the bottom of the bed.

A laugh bubbles out of y/n when the whole bed shakes under his weight, clearly amused at how excited he is. She must be just as excited though because she quickly leans forward to cup his face, attaching their lips and bringing him back down to the pillows with her.

"Wanna be on top," he mutters into her mouth, ghosting his hand down her tummy and tickling his thumb over her clit. "f'that's ok?"

"Mmm," she hums, happily "too tired to top anyway."

Harry seals their lips together again, using his knees to spread her thighs a bit further apart for him. Her palms smooth down his sides and around to his back, a breathy moan interrupting their kiss courtesy of his fingers. Harry utilizes the chance to break away and snag a pillow from his side of the bed, urging her hips up by tapping the fluffy thing against her side. She lifts, and he settles it under her lower back and bum to prop her up. Luckily for him, he's had a lot of practice getting around a baby bump for a shag.

Settling between her thighs, Harry giggles when she wraps her legs around his hips and tugs him closer. His body hovers over hers, love-sick smiles a breath away from meeting each other, and he drags his fingers through her folds, groaning at how slick she's become.

"Don't even have to try anymore do I?" He teases with a wolfish smile, capturing her lips just as she rolls her eyes. Giggling, he leaves soft kisses across her cheek, heading towards the base of her jaw.

"S'the baby's fault honestly." She argues, her fingers disappearing into the damp locks sticking to the back of his neck.

He hums, smirking against her skin. "Is it?"

With a small tug she's pulling him back up to her mouth. "Yeah. Gets me revved up all the bloody time. I don't know what you're putting in there mister but it's exhausting."

Harry laughs quietly, nipping at her bottom lip. "Don't worry baby, I'm gonna take care of ya. S'my problem after all, isn't it?"

Y/n nods, biting back a grin as Harry grips his cock with the fingers that had previously been fondling her. Chest to chest, Harry smiles at the feeling of their stomachs pressed together as he guides the head of him into her slit.

The sigh that puffs out of her chest sends a zip of pleasure up his spine, as if she'd been partial without him and the pure relief of just having him in her is all she could ever want. Harry hums appreciatively, eyes fluttering shut as he basks in how warm and gooey she is for him. He'd almost forgotten how it felt to have her this desperate for him and his touch.

"Oh it's so good darling," he mumbles to her, dropping his head into the crook of her neck. He pulls his hips back, breath stuttering when he easily slips forward again.

Y/n moans softly, dropping one hand to the small of his back as if guiding him. "So so good H." She confirms in a whisper, her voice tickling his ear and he squirms with a small laugh at the sensation.

Harry's soft with his movements, cautious of the baby between them and the one sleeping down the hall. Even the kisses he places on her jaw and lips are tender, small brushes between their confirmations that he "feels so good" inside her and she was "made for being wrapped me huh?" And Harry thinks nothing ever been truer. Her arms were made to hold him, her hands were made for pulling him closer and closer, and her heart was made to completely consume his.

Y/n reaches her high before him, rolling her hips up to try and quicken his but he maintains his sensual thrusts, stroking her temple as she trembles and gasps, clinging to him in every way possible. There's something about how quick she falls apart for him when she's pregnant and how utterly earth shattering it is for her, that it completely obliterates any sense of stamina Harry's ever had. He couldn't care less when he follows shortly after, grinding down into her heat as his cock twitches and buries deep in her walls. She's the one stroking his temple this time, and he knows she's watching his eyes scrunch shut and his gaping mouth curl into a breathy laugh as he comes.

Maybe it's the lingering anxiety that washed over him at the grocery store, but when y/n kisses him and gently nudges him off of her so she can go pee, Harry's desperate as he grips her hand and pouts, practically begging when he asks "can I get back in ya after? Just to fall asleep darling?"

Of course she nods, brushing sweaty curls from his forehead to soothe him and just like that he already feels lighter. He never has to sorry with her, because they were made for loving each other.

"Oh fuck!"

"Would you stop being so loud! It's 8 in the morning!"

"Can't help it, darling."

Harry tightens his hold around y/n's thighs, dipping his tongue back into her slit and groaning loudly despite the warning she's already given him this morning. She tugs on his hair scoldingly, drawing a pained hiss out of him. Harry brings his teeth up to her clit, nibbling in retaliation. A pained hiss of her own leaves her lips, cut off by a soft moan as he soothes his tongue over the spot.

Grinding her hips up into his mouth, Harry can't help but push his own into the mattress and a deep groan escapes him as he does so. Huffing, y/n scolds him again for being too loud when they've got a sleeping child one room over.

"Stop yelling at me so I can make you cum." He purrs, lips brushing over her clit. Their eyes meet over the curves and dips of her body, Harry smirking when she raises a prodding eyebrow at him. He kisses her thigh just once, lapping his tongue through her slit and he's just reaching her most sensitive spot when the beginning stirs of Arlo waking up break through the baby monitor.

Simultaneous groans leave both their mouths, this time of frustration. Harry pouts, knocking his forehead on y/n's hip bone and shaking his head.

"I told you Styles." Y/n teases, stroking through his hair for a second. He can't even think of a rebuttal before Arlo is calling out softly for her, and she's pushing up from the bed to get dressed.

"Take care of that while I take care of this." She calls as she disappears through the door, snickering softly and leaving him there desperate for her. But then again, when is he not desperate for her?

Hey man, hope I'm not being a bother. I was just wondering if you wanted to go out for a drink Friday or something?

-Z

Harry stares at the message, wondering why Zayn would sign it when the Instagram handle is clearly him. He also wonders why the hell Zayn is trying to hang out with him now.

It's a sunny day, the air outside relatively warm for March so Harry slipped a sweater on Arlo and brought him out to the backyard to play. They're sat in the grass, Arlo between his legs as they teach Theo to play fetch. Arlo's gotten good at tossing the chew toy himself, so Harry used the free time to start clearing out the congratulations messages he's received on Instagram.

"What's the matter H?"

Harry locks his phone, tilting his head up and squinting into the sun as y/n stands over them. She's got a bowl of puffy hot Cheetos in her hand, cradling them as if they were a precious gem as she settles into the grass with them.

"Nothing," he mumbles, pecking her temple when she leans into his side. "just got a weird text from Zayn. He wants to hang out."

Crunching through a chip, she hums. "Did you know he lives here?"

She lifts up a Cheeto, offering it to him. Harry gladly takes it between his teeth, pulling it from her fingertips and crunching down on the puffy chip. Swallowing, he shakes his head.

"Ran into him at the store once around Valentine's Day," she says, eyes watching Arlo dig his stubby fingers into the dry grass. "Was trying to talk to me about you I think but your son threw a fit and I was too busy to care honestly."

"Really?" Harry asks, perking up at the idea of Arlo throwing a tantrum to keep people away from y/n. That's the only time he'll agree with such actions. "Taught him well then haven't I?"

Rolling her eyes, she elbows him. "If you're son grows up to be rude I'm going to kick your ass Harry Styles."

Laughing, he steals a chip from her, locking his phone and dropping it to the grass. Arlo, interested in the device, crawls over to pick it up.

"Wouldn't expect anything less darling." He says, reaching over to swipe his phone to the camera so Arlo can snap random pictures.

"What are you going to do about Zayn then?"

"Suppose I should see what he wants, yeah?"

Y/n shrugs but Harry can read the look on her face easily. She's always silently encouraged him to face things that need mending or fixing, and his past with Zayn is one of those things.

"S'done then," he laughs, pinching her side affectionately. "I'll figure out why he's so obsessed with me."

She laughs, throwing her head back and scrunching her nose in the way makes him want to stare at her forever. "Think it's that one he's obsessed with. Look how cute he is."

Harry follows her line of sight, smile growing at the sight of Arlo making faces at himself in Harry's camera.

So bloody cute.

"Are we gonna be besties? I think we're gonna be besties." Niall states, swinging an arm around y/n's shoulders. He's on his third beer of the night already and Harry hasn't even made it to the ring yet. Y/n just laughs, continuing to maneuver tape around Harry's fingers but he's not as kind.

Casting a glare at the Irish man, Harry calls out to Gemma. "Get your leprechaun off of my girl before I use him to warm up."

Niall isn't really phased by the words, only pouting softly at Harry's steel gaze but Gemma is quick to rush over and pull Niall up from the couch by his hand.

"Come on babe, let's go find our seats." She coos to him, sending Harry an apologetic smile. He waits for her and Niall to turn their backs before chuckling softly. Y/n pinches at his wrist.

"Be nice to Niall. I really like him."

"Oh you really like him, huh?" Harry huffs, nudging his knee against hers. She rolls her eyes, giggling when he slips his free hand around her waist and pulls her into his lap. "Please tell me how much you really like Niall darling." He requests, shoving his face in her neck and playfully biting at her throat and shoulder. Just as he'd expected, she giggles and squirms, Harry having to wrap her up in a bear hug to keep her from sliding right off his thigh.

"Harry! Stop!"

He laughs with her, moving up to bite at the apples of her cheeks and her nose, growling as if he were a rabid beast. His freshly taped knuckles ache under the tightness of the wrap as he grips her flailing legs but he ignores it in favor of listening to her laugh.

"I like you more! I swear!" She shouts between laughs, wiggling a hand free and gripping the back of his neck. Pleased with her words, Harry pants out a laugh before sealing his mouth to hers.

"Tha's good because I like you more than Niall too." He mumbles into her lips.

"You like me more than you like everyone." She chuckles, stroking her thumb along his jawline. Harry's eyes shine with delight, proud that she knows her place in his heart, but he still teases.

"Mmm almost darling. Quite like my son, ya know that?"

She rolls her eyes but looks at him fondly, pinching the meat of his cheek. "Cute," she murmurs, "now go get ready for your fight baby. Want everyone to see my husband's gonna be the national champion."

Her words bring a rush of blood to his cheeks (and his cock if he's being honest), but he nudges her onto the couch next to him. "Just need two more wins." He whispers in her ear, pecking her temple.

Just two more wins.

There's good fights and there's bad fights. Everyone knows that. But not everyone knows that there's good wins and bad wins. Harry's experienced a few of those bad ones. Wins that he probably shouldn't have gotten because he certain his opponent had landed more punches and the judges miscounted. Or it was clear the other fighter wasn't into it and let him win.

Harry thinks tonight is his worst win ever.

The fight had been good. Trinsky, tonight's opponent from New Jersey, was short and stocky but strong. Harry was quicker than him though so they'd gone back and forth for a few rounds. Nothing two rough, just enough punches to have bright red welts on his torso and an ache in his jaw.

He fought through it though, fueled by the sounds of y/n and Niall cheering for him. Win this fight and he's onto the championship match. So he went at it with all he had left, charging Trinsky just as the man knocked his fist into Harry's temple.

It felt like a lightning bolt of pain zapped through his brain, shaking his core and causing his feet to stumble. Trinsky slid to the right as Harry crashed into the ropes, blinking furiously as the room around him spun. He was still in a daze as his body moved on its own, quick enough to uppercut his left fist into Trinsky's chin. The man crumbled to the mat, out cold, and Harry's dizzy head brought him down as well.

There's cheering and an announcement of his name, declaring Harry the winner but he can't seem to focus on it. Trinsky is being moved from the ring by his team, Harry falling to his bum on the mat as he rips at the velcro of his gloves with his teeth.

The room is coming back into focus, someone is calling him from the side of the ring but he doesn't recognize the voice so it goes ignored. He gets his hands free, rubbing his fingers into the tender spot on his head and wincing. He needs to take some Advil and ice it.

Harry climbs to his feet, a bit disoriented as he ducks under the ropes to leave. He knows he's got a team here somewhere but his mind can't seem to recognize what they look like or how to find them.

"Man, what are you doing?"

He turns, confused to find two men watching him like he's grown a second head. Harry feels like he knows the warm brown eyes of the taller man but he's not sure from where. Smiling uncomfortably, he motions behind him.

"I n-need ice or something." He says, excusing himself with a shrug and turning back to the locker room. He doesn't like the way his stomach twists or how his chest is telling him he knows those men when he couldn't even tell you there names right now. His heart thunders in his chest, panic seeping in and he's desperate to find something or someone that'll just help him out.

"Harry baby," she says calmly, a hand rubbing up his bare back comfortingly. "you okay?"

Y/n appears at his side, head tilted so she can meet his nervous gaze. Almost immediately he latches onto her hand, shaking his head. Her eyebrows crease, lips frowning as she reaches to cup his cheek.

"What's going on H? What's the matter?"

"M'head hurts," he answers immediately. "I-I think I forgot my team."

A trembling breath leaves his lips, tears stinging behind his eyes when he sees the concern on his wife's face. She brushes her thumb over his temple, the one she knows got hit the hardest, and then brushes a sweaty strand of hair off his forehead to place a tender kiss there.

"Let's get you to the locker room babe."

He follows like a lost puppy, trailing behind her through the back hallway and into his locker room. Y/n closes the door behind him before anyone else can enter, twisting the lock. Harry sits in the closest chair, fiddling with the tape on his fingers as he tries to calm down.

"Do you want to talk to me bub?" Y/n asks quietly, pulling up a seat directly in front of him. He nods, lifting his gaze from his hands to her face.

"I don't know what happened. It's like I got hit in the head and everything got shook up." He explains, frowning. He hates the way this feels. Hates that his body is screaming at him to just remember but his brain refuses to accept the message. "I know them, I know I do but s'like their names and stuff are just gone."

Y/n inhales sharply, biting nervously at her bottom lip. Harry's not even sure what to say and that makes him feel so much worse. He doesn't even feel like he has a concussion, not really. Everything else is still there, still in the forefront of his mind. His wife, his boys, Anne and Gemma. And he faintly remembers sitting at bars with one of the men from his team, remembers crashing on his couch late at night. But the soul of those memories are gone.

"I'm gonna get you some painkillers and water okay babe? Then we'll figure out what to do."

He nods, smiling wetly when she kisses his forehead. Watching her move around the room to gather water and whatnot, Harry wills himself to just think. He knows these men, he's just gotta focus on it. A memory stands out, one of the three of them in a car on a road trip. His trainer is driving, his manager in the passenger seat and he knows this is a trip for a match. A recent match too because he remembers saying goodbye to Arlo and y/n, kissing her swollen belly before he went.

Y/n returns to him with a bottle of water and a couple pills, watching him cautiously as he squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to just think. Recalling conversations from the car, remembering the screen in the front of the vehicle that reads Connected to Liam's iPhone. Liam. Almost instantly Nick's name floods his brain again and he feels his whole body tremble with relief.

Harry takes the medicine, gulping it down and slumping into his seat. "Nick and Liam," he finally murmurs, voice thick. "I couldn't remember darling. They were right in front of me and I couldn't remember their fucking names."

A silent tear trails down his cheek, Harry sniffling as y/n wipes it away with a tender touch he's only felt from her. "Its ok Harry. We'll figure out what happened. At least you remember now baby." She tried to comfort, but Harry's heart still aches.

"What if-" he peers up at her through wet eyelashes. "what if it had been you? Or Arlo? Or all three of you? What if I-"

He can't even finish the thought before he's shaking his head, more tears slipping down his cheeks and jaw. What would he have done if he'd looked at y/n and not remembered her name? Not remembered the beautiful son they created? Or the one she's growing now?

"It wasn't Harry," she stays sternly, cutting into his spiralling thoughts. "it wasn't and even if it did happen, it wouldn't change a thing. You're not getting rid of us."

Trying to smile, he nods and takes a deep breath. He trusts her, more than anyone, and he's never known someone that fights as much as she does. He knows, no matter what, that she'll always have his back.

#sweet as honey #harry styles #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #one direction #harry styles au #dad harry #boxer harry #cute #smut #daddy harry styles #sweet as honey talk

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zahraajaffar · 2 years

Text

Project 1, FA222, Detailed coverage of interviews

DR. Ehab Juma

Landscapes of Time and Space by Kenjiro Okazaki’s

The artist discusses his current collection of miniature abstract tableaux, as well as the history of landscape painting and why uncertainty may provide a sense of purpose.

Travis Diehl, Each little abstract artwork in your series 'Topica Pictus' [2020–ongoing] is accompanied by a brief essay. I'm keen to hear your thoughts on the situation.

Kenjiro Okazaki’s, I remember a lot of things as soon as I start painting. I don't start painting with a theme in mind. Rather, the painting process is a search for a certain subject or concept. Each piece must have its own distinct personality. Each character's style cannot be limited to that of the artist. For instance, in [Corn and Summer Wheat,2002] When I first used this hue, the tone reminded me of Thomas Hart Benton's work Corn and Winter Wheat (1948). Then it reminded me of the Japanese argument about whether or not landscapes can have regional features. This is how I begin to think and write at the same time as I paint.

TD: I'm not sure how much of this is my imagination, but several of your abstract paintings have compositions that seem like works by other artists: For example, [Albrecht Dürer's Dream / A massive rain drop ravages the quarry, 2020] has overtones of Pieter Bruegel the Elder's Tower of Babel [c.1563].

KO: They do, in fact, have the same diagonal. I recognized not just that painting, but other works by Paul Cézanne, such as Mont Saint-Victoire [1904–06]; quarries were a favourite topic for Dürer. Looking at Bruegel's Tower of Babel, I notice that it isn't a tower at all: it is a stone quarry erected on top of an existing mountain.

Kenjiro Okazaki, (Corn and Summer Wheat), 2020, acrylic on canvas, 16 × 20 cm. Courtesy: the artist and Blum & Poe, Los Angeles

TD: So, all these mountains are reflected in your composition.

KO: Yes, since they combine art and nature.

TD: The margins of the colors and strokes appear to be mirrored in the notches or recessions of your frames as well.

KO: The frame is the device that directs movement from the artwork to the outside world and from the outside world to the painting's universe. It has to do with architecture. The most crucial purpose is to let a breeze pass through while providing shelter from the rain. Of course, the purpose of my frame is inspired by the history of the curved canvas, which prioritized the painting as an object over the autonomy of the painting space. The frame is added after the painting is completed; however, I find that I anticipate the shape of the frame while I work on my paintings. Writing, painting, and frame (architecture) are all vital to me, even if I don't understand how everything fits together. It's similar to the three-body dilemma outlined by Henri Poincaré in the 19th century: when three or more stars have enough mass to have a gravitational impact on each other, their velocity becomes practically incalculable and unpredictable. I get nervous whenever I try to write or draw something because I'm not sure if I'll be able to do it correctly.

@uob-funoon

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moonchildsaurora · 3 years

Text

Darling, Dance for Me?

✤ sniper!San x female exotic dancer!reader ✤ genre: Mafia AU // 30% fluff, 60% spice, 10% platonic flirting with Woo ✤ t/w: mentions of guns/shooting, mentions of alcohol, mature clubbing themes, highly suggestive in the second half (but not smut), rated M ✤ count: 2k+

a/n - this was suppose to be for Valentine’s Day but, oh well! Enjoy some spice with one pink haired Sannie, coz we all know even though he looks soft. . . .he’s just a devil in disguise. This is probs my most suggestive writing till date as well, it was fun and am looking forward to writing more spice in the future hehet 💙

✛ play these vibes: BOBBY - ‘DeViL’, Sunmi - ‘Black Pearl’, Kai - ‘Mmmh’ ✛

“Mother told me, never to dance with the devil, So I danced for him instead.”

Cherry rouge.

Not your usual go-to, but a special occasion calls for some special exceptions. And damn did you look like fine wine tonight. Giving your styled curls another spritz of hair spray, you took one last inspection in your vanity mirror.

Work was throwing a Valentine’s event and thus you found yourself having to dig through the back of your wardrobe to find a suitable outfit for tonight. Bold burgundy lace hugged tightly around your body replacing the mellower neutral tones you’d wear on any other night. Your roommate had even shoved a pair of thigh highs and heels on you to match the garter.

And cherry lips to bring the whole look together.

“You’ll thank me later! Hell everyone in the club would, for presenting god’s gift to them!”

You had laughed at her supportive enthusiasm, waving her away with embarrassment though you greatly appreciated the pre-shift hype.

When you headed for the kitchen, you could hear the TV in the lounge and glanced to see your roommate watching the evening news. She turned to call out for you but stopped mid-way upon realising you were already out of your room.

“Damn girl…you’ll sure be breaking hearts tonight with that fit!!” she yelled-gasped, brows waggling for a cheeky added effect.

“Well that’s no good. Dancers are supposed to be Cupids of the night, maybe they should’ve given me Aphrodite instead.”

A smile tugged on your lips as you saw your roommate falling back on the sofa snickering. Grabbing the bottle of Ten to One from what you both named ‘The Life Juice’ shelf, you started to fill your rose gold hip flask with the white rum. The debonair bartender at the club would usually be more than happy to concoct you a cup of much-needed poison to get you through the night. However, on such a busy event, you might not even have time to swing by the bar – so plan B was in order.

Also, whoever thought to invent garter pouches was a genius in your eyes. The amount of times you had snuck in a sip or two up on the podium without missing a beat or being noticed had to be one of your greatest feat till date.

Except maybe for the one who bought said pouch and flask for you. Seeing the shadow of their pleased smirk whenever you donned on something from them never failed to coax the goosebumps across your skin. Perhaps that garnet embellished choker would be the icing on the cake then. You made a mental note to put that on before you headed out.

“Hey honey…”

The tone of your roommate turned a little more serious.

“On the news just then, another one of those random sniper attacks happened along Soleil Street. Shit, that’s only two streets away from the club.”

The city has gotten used to such news every now and then. All leads of the serial sniper always went cold, not that they left behind any substantial traces for the authorities to begin with.

The law wasn’t the only ruling force in the area. Everyone knew that.

So long as one didn’t attract the wrong attention, they’d be free to go about their business.

“I’m dropping you off, are you ready to go?”

“Wait! It’s alright, I don’t want to trouble you.”

Your roommate gave you a look before swiping her car keys from the counter. “What would trouble me is not knowing whether you’ve made it to work and back safely. Now c’mon, the night is awaiting that cute booty of yours!”

“Yes mum.”

How lucky were you to have an angel for a roommate?

“Give me a heads up if you intend to bring anyone home tonight yeah? I’ll be sure to vacate the apartment before any sinning begins here.”

Or not.

A euphoric buzz filled every corner of the club tonight. Whether it was due to the special occasion or not, everyone was getting drunk off the atmosphere. The bar was a never-ending fountain of liquid luck and smoke veiled corners of the venue where patrons dealt cards and wits. A sea of bodies dominated the dancefloor, curling around one another in ecstasy as the thumping bass set the rhythm for them.

The centre podium was where the real magic unfurled.

Up on there, you felt powerful. Up on there, was your domain to rule.

Long have you enticed all those who returned back to ‘The Blue Butterfly’. So close, yet so far, for most could only have the visual satisfaction. Of watching you, along with your fellow dancers weave around golden poles and offer hands to those who sat in plush velvet chairs closest to the podium. Only to sashay away the last minute.

How bees are drawn to nectar and moths to light, the people keep coming back.

Tonight the club was decked out in a more sensual feel to fit the Valentine’s vibe. Long drapes of rose silk hung around the podium and you used those to accentuate the flow and movement of your body curves. The silks caressed the bare skin not hidden underneath your outfit and you pretended to take shy peeks around the fabrics at the audience. Sending a lucky wink or flying kiss their way.

In the middle of a mid-air twirl, you saw a familiar figure heading towards your side of the podium. You slowly lowered yourself back down to the floor, using your legs to wrap around the silks as leverage. Not missing the opportunity to be playful – you mimed shooting an arrow towards the club’s top croupier.

Wooyoung instantly clutched his heart with his hand that wasn’t occupied with holding one of Mingi’s own cocktail infusion. Letting out a hearty giggle, you slid over the podium floors to the edge where Wooyoung had propped himself up on.

“Don’t you look simply irresistible?” he crooned at you.

You could’ve said the exact same for him. All fitted to a tee in Givenchy with a classic choker that demanded attention for prominent collarbones.

“Now, how may I be of service to you tonight handsome?” you spoke over the music.

The youthful charmer leaned in towards you, shaking dark wavy strands out of his eyes. Eyeing his cotton candy pink drink, you ducked your head and took a few sips from the straw before Wooyoung drew it away. It tasted vaguely like pink lemonade with hints of vodka and vanilla.

“Ah ah, this isn’t for you poppet. Besides…” he tipped your chin back up with two fingers, “…wouldn’t want to waste your appetite before your main course tonight, would we?”

That made you perk right up.

“V.I.P Room Aurora has kindly requested for you. Drinks have already been sent up and the room’s been booked for the whole night.”

Not that booking was really needed since it was your room. It was just for formality.

Wooyoung helped you off the podium and smoothly guided you through the crowd, placing you in front of him so as to avoid being grabbed by uninvited hands from behind. You both stopped at the foot of the polished glass stairs that led up to the V.I.P guest rooms.

“Off you go now! Oh and try not to make too much of a mess for our cleaners, they really ought to get a pay rise from some of the things they’ve witnessed in those rooms.”

You would’ve kicked Wooyoung for his brazen tongue, but you did well to remind yourself that would be rather impudent on your part. Whilst you have a jovial bond with him, it still doesn’t erase his high-standing status within the inner circle. You knew better than to cross that line of respect.

“Won’t make any promises I can’t keep, Jung!”

You left him with a soft pat on his cheek and ascended towards your utopia that awaited.

Swinging the golden embossed doors open, sultry melodious tune of a saxophone greeted you. Like molten dark chocolate, it was rich and tantalizing. The crystalline blue hue of the room’s lighting was fitting for the slow jazzy blues.

A spacious circular sofa curved around a glass table in the centre, providing a perfect view of the bejewelled podium. The wide one-way windows were especially designed for privacy. You could spectate over almost the whole club below, something you quite enjoyed during your breaks. The countless types of people that you observed stepping into your world; from the timid newcomers to the seasoned hedonists and the stories they brought with them of their journey to ‘The Blue Butterfly’.

But there was no time for that tonight. Not when you see broad sculptured shoulders that your hands have meticulously memorised the planes of – right in front of you.

Still clad in his all-black incognito leather fit, you couldn’t help but stay by the door to appreciate his form. A huge bouquet of ivory and deep red roses sat on the glass table with an open box of what you suspected were chocolates inside. A loud pop of the champagne bottle went off. You bit your lips when you saw his toned arms flex as he gripped the bottle in one hand and tipped a stream of golden bubbles into two flute glasses in the other.

As the music picked up, you decided it was time to make your presence known. Walking with confident steps over the velveteen carpet you went to wrap your arms around his cinched waist. Resting your cheek on the cool leather vest of his back, you took his scent in.

Smoke and city musk lingered around.

You figured he must’ve come straight from his assignment. What better reason to use than to spoil him extra as post-work relaxation? His hand came up to wrap around yours and you felt the dancing of lips leaving petal kisses across your knuckles.

“You stink…” you mumbled lightly against his back.

San let out a low chuckle before setting the champagne bottle down and turning around to snake both arms around you. Calloused hands from the years of gripping guns instead of supple flesh imprinted their warm touch into your skin.

“Oh? Then I’m sure you won’t mind helping me freshen up, right Princess?”

“San!” you squealed when you felt him deliberately rub sweat against your neck before attacking it with more love bites.

“You taste like sweet temptation.”

You arched your neck out of habit when you felt his tongue swipe across it. Teeth bit down lightly around the garnet choker San bought for you for Christmas.

When you felt hands travelling down west towards your garter, you gave San a light shove backwards to the sofa.

“Not so fast, Choi.”

His predatory feline eyes took its time to rake down your body, committing every inch to memory. You made a show of bending over to grab the two champagne flutes off the table, the sharp intake of breath behind you made you preen with pride. You took your seat on your throne, not at all surprised to feel how much pent-up tension San had through the tight leather.

Clink. A toast made for the love of two.

“Happy Valentine’s, darling.”

“Thank you, San. You sure know how to spoil a lady don’t you?”

“Only the one who’s sniped right through my heart.”

Oh the irony.

You smiled when he pulled you close and claimed a proper kiss, whispering a, “You sap,” against his wind-chapped lips. Tasting the fruit acidity from the golden bubbles as you both exchanged kitten licks.

San’s rouge-stained lips chased after yours when you broke off from the kiss to place your champagne flute back down on the table. Hands anchoring your hips in place as you reached to pluck a couverture chocolate-covered strawberry from the box. Turning back round to San, your lips formed a small pout noticing that his freshly dyed hair was still hidden underneath his cap.

He let you discard it behind the sofa and you could’ve sworn he purred with satisfaction when you ran your hands through his cotton candy pink strands. Hands gave your bottom a firm squeeze and San begun to run his fingers along the hem of your lace. The husky vocals from the record player drifted back, interlacing with the saxophone.

That was your cue.

“Eyes on me.”

You held San’s gaze, fire reflecting fire. The strawberry gets slipped past the seams of his lips and all the while San chews intently, his eyes never wavered. He’s got his precious pearl all to himself, just the way he loves it. And you have the city’s most lethal hitman watching your back from dawn to dusk. San was the dangerous game you played, only to win the safest love.

“Darling, won’t you please dance for me?”

“With pleasure, Sir.”

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chil2de · 3 years

Note

How are you today? If its alright with you, can I request a Atsumu x fem reader where she has a super tomboy style and ALWAYS wears baggy clothes, but one day atsumu comes over to hang out and the only outfit she has left is kinda a tight fitting shirt and for the first time ever Atsumu realizes just how curvy his girlfriend is

sorry if thats to specific! feel free to ignorethis!

warning - miya atsumu x reader

hiii! i’m doing okay anonie, thank you and i hope u are faring well!!! so um this ended up being a LOT longer than i expected pls forgive me it was supposed to be a cute lil drabble but now its like uh 2k words aJdhfhhd, i really loved this idea!!! don’t worry ab it being too specific i actually like that and it helps give me a general idea about the req

well whilst this isn’t tooooo nsfw there are a few small themes in the beginning + swearing since i write atsumu like that and implications of sexual content ig at the end but aside from that? just some fluff for our fav king. characters are aged up and i am unsure how it would work but call it anime logic and enjoy! thanks for requesting! (okay rereading the ending is lowkey smut why am i like this)

“b-cup.” atsumu huffed with confidence. he took a large swig out of his water bottle, nodding his head wisely in affirmation.

“really? i’d say c-cup.” suna chimed in, his half-lidded gaze narrowing.

“nah, it’s b-cup”

“what the hell are you two talking about?” osamu interjected, concern and disgust thick on his features as he came over carrying a few towels.

“(y/n)’s bra size” suna nonchalantly responded, his eyes flicking up for a few seconds as he accepted the towel from osamu.

“‘tsumu i knew you were messed in the head but, suna? have you caught his germs?”

“fuck are you making it sound like i have some viral disease?”

“you don’t?” suna snorted, plopping down onto the floor to sit cross-legged.

“why don’t you just ask her?” osamu’s gaze flickered onto yours from across the court. you felt your ears burn from the way the three of them were staring at you.

was something on your face?

a bug? dirt?

“huh? like i’m supposed to say, hey baby girl, what size are your tits?”

“i’m still saying b-cup”

“c-cup”

“i think b-cup” osamu joined in, watching atsumu screw his face at him

“you goddamn hypocrite-“ “who’s being a hypocrite?” kita inquired with a half-hushed tone, making his way over with a few protein bars

“oh my god i’m going home” atsumu groaned, resting his palms on his knees as he stood up. he beelined towards you, his exhaustion painted his lazy smile beautifully. he still had the energy to turn around over his shoulder and flip his middle finger up at his team whilst his right hand snaked around to your waist.

somewhere around your waist. it took him a little bit of digging through all the fabric.

it didn’t matter to him, though. as much of a jackass as he might’ve been, he never judged you for the way you dressed. even if it meant that sometimes you looked a lil bit homeless, at the end of the day- he still had that glimmer in his eyes whenever he saw you.

you would be his favourite baby girl, no matter what.

“is that my shirt you’re wearing?” he hummed, glancing down to look at it.

it was, in fact, one of his shirts. it was matte black in colour, with a small dip that would showcase atsumu’s collar bones. it was a little bit faded from the many wash cycles it endured throughout its lifetime, but he would always notice the small tear in the bottom right section of the fabric.

“sorryyy, i know you just washed it but it smelled so nice. also, wow, did you put on deodorant? you actually smell like a man it’s kinda creepy”

“i always put on deodorant you dipshit, you’re always crying about how pretty my face looks so your nose doesn’t pick up the scent. it’s verbena citrus, buy your own because i know you’ll try stealing mine so i’m putting a padlock on that shit.” atsumu scoffed, digging his fingers into your sides to tickle you as you walked. you squirmed, swatting him away as you dug your hands into the pockets of your joggers. they were not atsumu’s, unfortunately, for you found out the hard way that you would literally have to drag the excess fabric behind you like some train dress or bundle it up and fold it, which, in retrospect- did not look too aesthetically pleasing. you settled for your own joggers and favourite high-top sneakers to match.

“you know you’ll say all this but give me your deodorant anyway, right?” you stuck your tongue out at him. he rolled his eyes, ruffling your hair.

“hey.” he called out, causing you to direct your attention towards him.

he nudged your arm with his elbow.

oh.

“give it here.”

you uncurled your left hand out of your pocket, zipping it up to make sure the contents inside didn’t spill. atsumu slid his right hand away from your waist and opened his palm up, intertwining his fingertips between yours into a tight lock. he grazed his thumb over the back of your hand, giving you a small squeeze.

“that was the cheesiest and most corniest thing you’ve done and i hated it” you made a mock gagging sound, averting your gaze.

you could feel the blush fresh on your cheeks, heart pounding in your chest like it was about to explode.

“wait, you thought i was holding your hand because we’re dating? i’m just doing it because i know your dumbass would get lost” atsumu snorted, throwing his head back in laughter.

well,

you could still see the light blush tinting his cheeks. and it wasn’t the sunset.

“mmm, should i wear this one- wait-“ you grabbed the shirt, folding it upwards as you took a small whiff. well,, you did wear it yesterday… yeah, you did put it in the laundry basket,,, no, it didn’t smell toooo bad, but..

you groaned, tossing it back into said basket as you furrowed your brows in concentration.

you heard the doorbell ring which only caused you to panic even further. you just needed a shirt. literally any shirt. you were about to cut your freaking pants out and sew them together to another pair for a shirt.

since it was a friday, you had atsumu walk you halfway home. you only lived a street away from him, and the apartment was conveniently built on a fork between the road down to his house and the supermarket. hence, he dropped you off and went to the store all by himself like a responsible adult to grab some snacks for the weekend.

“it’s open!” you called out, leaning your jaw back as you shouted in hopes for your voice to travel further.

in that moment, just in the corner of your eye- you saw a familiar flash of black.

you swooped the fabric up, quietly humming in pleasure when it smelled like laundry detergent and fabric softener.

you lifted the shirt over your head, struggling to pull it down for a few seconds.

you admired yourself briefly in the mirror.

it was a casual t-shirt. it reached down to the middle portion of your arms, though it was significantly less baggy than all of your other clothes. you liked to sleep in it during hot and stuffy summer nights, but rarely found yourself using it otherwise.

it’s not like you didn’t like these kinds of shirts.

but when given the option to look “stylish” or comfortable, who wouldn’t pick comfortable? that’s what was important to you above all. clothes that made you feel like you were constantly in bed were a godsend from the heavens.

“hey dipshit, i spent twenty minutes jumping stores for you but no one sold any (favourite drink) so i got you-“ atsumu halted in his steps, the grocery bags curled around his fists were suddenly forgotten and discarded as he caught sight of you through the doorframe.

you were clad in a pair of old white shorts and a black t-shirt, complimentary of the fact that everything else was currently in the laundry machine. atsumu could outline every single damn crevice and dip on you, and he burned that shit so deep into his retinas that he would still see it when his eyes were closed.

he felt his breath hitch, something deep inside him resonating, growing feral like hunger.

he still stood by what he said,

baggy clothes or not, you were beautiful.

but he wasn’t expecting this

“so you bought what?” you inquired, twisting your torso halfway to greet him as you finished brushing through some knots in your hair at the vanity.

“huh?”

“you said there wasn’t any (favourite drink) so you got what? did you fall and crack your head open on the way here? cause it looks like it”

you could feel your heart squeeze, body temperature increased twofold as icy hot waves wracked every inch of your skin. there was a cold sweat that rolled down the back of your knees.

“shut the hell up, i hate you” atsumu grumbled, forcing himself to turn away from you and stomp off to the kitchen with a pout.

“jesus christ give me strength i hate this woman, where the hell does she get off thinking she can get away with looking so good like that” atsumu mumbled incoherent curses underneath his breath, shakily unloading everything he bought out onto the counter and stuffing the groceries into cabinets and the fridge.

“‘samu, i hate you but dude i need twin telepathy, give me strength so i don’t deck this woman right here right now” he cursed, gritting his teeth. his self-control was about to fly out the window.

“you okay?” you popped your head through the door, leaning into the kitchen.

he could see the outline of your prominent collarbones, the way the shirt still fell a little bit and hung loosely off of your frame. he could see the start of your stomach.

god, it should’ve been illegal the way he wanted to grab your thighs. he wondered for a second what it would look like with his fingerprints etched into your skin there.

“want a few tissues and some lotion?” you snorted, nestling up beside him to help. you gazed at him, watching him keep his eyes narrowed on the packet of pistachios he was fumbling with.

you thought it was cute.

“listen- if you’re not ready yet then i’d suggest that you find something else to wear cause holy shit if you don’t get away from me right now i swear i will not restrain myself-“

“i’m ready” you hummed, giving him an innocent smile. you toyed with your hands behind your back, fiddling with them as butterflies swept your abdomen.

atsumu snorted, eyebrows creasing in confusion. he turned to face you, setting the pistachios down.

“alright i’m not saying this to boost my ego, but, what did you say?”

“i said i’m ready”

you watched his brain stir, gears ticking and turning like clockwork.

atsumu let out a low sigh.

“yeah, yeah. well, then.”

his right hand slammed against the wall, caging you in. he leaned into you, looming over you as his half-lidded eyes burned holes inside your soul. you felt the air tense and switch around him, carnal desires swirling behind his gaze. his chest was so close to yours, practically flush, save for the tiniest gap. you could literally feel his heart hammering.

he was so invasive, so close, yet so respectful. he still kept his distance, just n case you changed your mind.

“are you sure this is what you want?” his voice was hot and slick against the shell of your ear, voice husky and octaves deeper. you could feel the sexual tension dripping from him.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against him.

“i’m sure, ‘tsumu.”

a loud chuckle ripped from the depths of his chest. it was so hearty, and fuck, it made you clench.

atsumu swooped you up all in one swift motion, hands hooking underneath your thighs as he shoved you against the counter. he sent everything clattering and thudding in the process.

“don’t say i didn’t warn you, doll.”

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flufffysocks · 3 years

Text

let's talk about andi mack's worldbuilding

sorry this took forever to make! i've been pretty busy with school stuff and i kind of lost my inspiration for a bit, but i ultimately really enjoyed writing it! i wish i could've included more pics (tumblr has a max of 10 per post), and it kinda turned from less of a mini analysis to more of an extremely long rant... but i hope it's still a fun read!

i've been rewatching the show over the past few weeks (thanks again to @disneymack for the link!), and i’ve been noticing a lot that i never did the first time around. this is really the first time i’ve watched the show from start to finish since it aired, and it honestly feels so different this time - probably a combination of the fact that i’m not as focused on plot and can appreciate the show as a whole, and also that the fandom is much, much smaller now, so there’s a lot less noise. so the way i’m consuming this show feels super different than it did the first time, but the show itself doesn’t - it’s just as warm and comforting to me as it was the first time around, if not more so.

i think a lot of that can be attributed to andi mack’s “worldbuilding”. i’m not quite sure that this is the right word in this context, to be honest, because i mostly see it used in reference to fantasy and sci-fi universes, but it just sort of feels right to me for andi mack, because you can really tell how much love and care went into constructing this universe. for clarity, worldbuilding is “the process of creating an imaginary world” in its simplest sense. there’s two main types: hard worldbuilding, which involves inventing entire universes, languages, people, cultures, places, foods, etc. from scratch (think “lord of the rings” or “dune”), and soft worldbuilding, in which the creators don’t explicitly state or explain much about the fictional universe, but rather let it’s nature reveal itself as the story progresses (think studio ghibli films). andi mack to me falls in the soft worldbuilding category. even though it takes place in a realistic fiction universe, there’s a lot of aspects to it that are inexplicably novel in really subtle ways.

so watching the show now, i’ve noticed that the worldbuilding comes primarily from two things - setting and props, and oftentimes the both of them in tandem (because a big part of setting in filmmaking does depend on the props placed in it!).

one of the most obvious examples is the spoon. it really is a sort of quintessential, tropic setting in that it's the main gang's "spot", which automatically gives it a warm and homey feel to it. and its set design only amplifies this:

the choice to make it a very traditional 50s-style diner creates a very nostalgic, retro feel to it, which is something that's really consistent throughout the show, as you'll see. from the round stools at the bar, to the booths, to the staff uniforms, this is very obvious. the thing that i found especially interesting about it though is the choice of color. the typical 50s diner is outfitted with metallic surfaces and red accented furnishings, but the spoon is very distinctly not this.

instead, it's dressed in vibrant teal and orange, giving it a very fresh and modern take on a classic look. so it still maintains that feeling of being funky and retro, but that doesn't retract from the fact that the show is set distinctly in modern times.

of course, this could just be a one-off quirky set piece, but this idea of modernizing and novelizing "retro" things is a really common motif throughout the show. take red rooster records. i mean, it's a record shop - need i say more? it's obviously a very prominent store in shadyside, at least for the main characters, but there's no apparent reason why it is (until season 2 when bowie starts working there, and jonah starts performing there). a lot of the time, though, it functions solely as a record shop. vinyl obviously isn't the most practical or convenient way of listening to music, but it's had its resurgence in pop culture even in the real world, mostly due to its aesthetic value, so it's safe to say that it serves the same purpose in the andi mack universe.

the fringe seems to be nostalgic of a different era, specifically the Y2K/early 2000s period (because it's meant to be bex's territory and symbolic of who she used to be, and its later transformation into cloud 10 is representative of her character arc, but that's beside the point). to be honest, exactly what this store was supposed to be always confused me. it was kind of a combination party store/clothing store/makeup store/beauty parlor? i think that's sort of the point of it though, it's supposed to feel very grunge-y and chaotic (within the confines of a relatively mellow-toned show, of course), and it's supposed to act as a sort of treasure chest of little curios that both make the place interesting and allow the characters to interact with it.

and, of course, there's andi shack. this is really the cherry on top of all of andi mack's sets, just because it's so distinctly andi. it serves such amazing narrative purpose for her (ex. the storyline where cece and ham were going to move - i really loved this because it highlights its place in the andi mack universe so well, and i'm a sucker for the paper cranes shot + i'm still salty that sadie's cranes didn't make it into the finale) and it's the perfect reflection of andi's character development because of how dynamic it is (the crafts and art supplies can get moved around or switched out, and there's always new creations visible).

going back to the nostalgia motif though, the "shack" aspect of it always struck me as very treehouse-like. personally, whenever i think of treehouses, there's this very golden sheen of childhood about it, if that makes sense. i've always seen treehouses in media as a sort of shelter for characters' youthful innocence and idealistic memories. for example, the episode "up a tree" from good luck charlie, the episode "treehouse" from modern family, and "to all the boys 2" all use a treehouse setting as a device to explore the character's desire to hold onto their perfect image of their childhood (side note: this exact theme is actually explored in andi mack in the episode "perfect day 2.0"!). andi shack is no exception to this, but it harnesses this childhood idealism in the same way that it captures the nostalgia of the 50s in the spoon, or the early 2000s in the fringe. it's not some image of a distant past being reflected through that setting; it's very present, and very alive, because it reflects andi as she is in the given moment.

some honorable mentions of more one-off settings include the ferris wheel (from "the snorpion"), the alley art gallery (from "a walker to remember"), SAVA, the color factory (from "it's a dilemna"), and my personal favorite, the cake shop (from "that syncing feeling").

[every time i watch this episode i want to eat those cakes so bad]

these settings have less of a distinctly nostalgic feel (especially the color factory, which is a very late 2010s, instagram era setting), but they all definitely have an aura of perfection about them. andi mack is all about bright, colorful visuals, and these settings really play to that, making the andi mack universe seem really fun and inviting, and frankly very instagrammable (literally so, when it comes to the color factory!).

props, on the other hand, are probably a much less obvious tool of worldbuilding. they definitely take up less space in the frame and are generally not as noticeable (i'm sure i'll have missed a bunch that will be great examples, but i'm kind of coming up with all of this off the top of my head), but they really tie everything together.

for example, bex's box, bex's polaroid, and the old tv at the mack apartment (the tv is usually only visible in the periphery of some shots, so you might not catch it at first glance) all complement that very retro aesthetic established through the settings (especially the polaroid and the tv, because there's really no good reason that the characters would otherwise be using these).

besides this, andi's artistic nature provides the perfect excuse for plenty of colorful, crafty props to amplify the visuals and the tone. obviously, as i discussed before, andi shack is the best example of this because it's filled with interesting props. but you also see bits of andi's (and other people's) crafts popping up throughout the show (ex. the tape on the fridge in the mack apartment, andi's and libby's headbands in "the new girls", walker's shoes, andi's phone case, and of course, the bracelet). not only does doing this really solidify this talent as an essential tenet of andi's character, but it also just makes the entirety of shadyside feel like an extension of andi shack. the whole town is a canvas for her crafts (or art, depending on how you want to look at it. i say it's both), and it immensely adds to shadyside's idealism. because who wouldn't want to live in a world made of andi mack's creations?

and, while it's not exactly a prop, the characters' wardrobe is undoubtedly a major influence on the show's worldbuilding. true to it's nature as a disney channel show, all of the characters are always dressed in exceptionally curated outfits of whatever the current trends are, making the show that much more visually appealing. i won't elaborate too much on this, because i could honestly write a whole other analysis on andi mack's fashion (my favorites are andi's and bex's outfits! and kudos to the costume designer(s) for creating such wonderful and in-character wardrobes!). but, i think it's a really really important aspect of how the show's universe is perceived, so it had to be touched upon.

[^ some of my favorite outfits from the show! i am so obsessed with andi's jacket in the finale, and i aspire to be at bex's level of being a leather jacket bisexual]

and lastly, phones. this is a bit of an interesting case (pun intended), because the way they're used fluctuates a bit throughout the show, but i definitely noticed that at least in the first season terri minsky tried to avoid using them altogether. these efforts at distancing from modern tech really grounds the show in it's idealist, nostalgia-heavy roots, so even when the characters start using their phones more later in the show, they don't alter the viewer's impression of the andi mack universe very much.

so, what does all of this have to do with worldbuilding? in andi mack's case, because it's set in a realistic universe and not a fantasy one, a lot of what sets it apart from the real world comes down to tone. because, as much as this world is based on our own, it really does feel separate from it, like an alternate reality that's just slightly more perfect than ours, which makes all the difference. it's the idealism in color and composition in andi mack's settings that makes it so unmistakably andi mack. even the weather is always sunny and perfect (which is incredibly ironic because the town is called shadyside - yes, i am very proud of that observation).

the andi mack universe resides somewhere in this perfect medium that makes it feel like a small town in the middle of nowhere (almost like hill valley in 1955 from "back to the future"), but at the same time like an enclave within a big city (because of its proximity to so many modern, unique, and honestly very classy looking establishments). it is, essentially, an unattainable dream land that tricks you into believing it is attainable because it's just real enough.

all this to say, andi mack does an amazing job of creating of polished, perfect world for its characters. this is pretty common among disney channel and nickelodeon shows, but because most other shows tend to be filmed in a studio with three-wall sets, andi mack is really set apart from them in that it automatically feels more real and tangible. it has its quintessential recurring locations, but it has far more of them (most disney/nick shows usually only have 3-4 recurring settings), and it has a lot more one-off locations. it's also a lot more considerate when it comes to its props, so rather than the show just looking garish and aggressively trendy, it has a distinctive style that's actually appropriate to the characters and the story. overall this creates the effect of expanding the universe, making shadyside feel like it really is a part of a wider world, rather than an artificial bubble. it's idealism is, first and foremost, grounded in reality, and that provides a basis for its brilliant, creative, and relatable storytelling.

tl;dr: andi mack's sets and props give it a very retro and nostalgic tone which makes its whole universe seem super perfect and i want to live there so bad!!

#andi mack #buffy driscoll #cyrus goodman #jonah beck #tj kippen #tyrus #ambi #bex mack #analysis #film analysis #disney channel

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moonbeamsung · 4 years

Text

Serendipitous Synergy

“I can’t believe I got stuck with you, of all people, as a dance partner.”

“What? Scared I’ll steal the spotlight?”

“In your dreams, Lee.”

member: haechan

au: dance partner and rival!haechan x gn!reader

word count: 4.9k

genre: angst, suggestive, fluff

warnings: talk of insecurities and thoughts of self-doubt, a house party, stubborn reader, smug haechan, mentions of ‘sexual tension’ in the context of a dance, kissing, slight innuendos

author’s note: As a dancer myself, this idea came to me after we learned the choreography for Thriller in class one day! And yes I know Halloween was weeks ago but shhh. It’s my first time writing an enemies to lovers au, so I would greatly appreciate any feedback about things I can improve on in the future. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

network tags: @neo-constellations

“...You’ll be partnered with Haechan.”

The words of your instructor seem to swallow up the dance studio you’re standing in, echoing off of the walls with a piercing sound that makes your ears ache, your gut twist, and your blood boil.

This could not be happening.

Said boy seems just as averse to the idea as you are, the corners of his mouth downturned in displeasure.

Your teacher, however, continues to rattle off the rest of the pairs, some of them a little surprising but none nearly as unexpected as the two of you being put together.

Eyes narrowed and gazes sharp as daggers, both you and Haechan turn to stare each other down.

The standoff makes everyone else in the studio uneasy, and though the other dancers aren’t unaccustomed to your endless rivalry, they fear the potential hostility of your reactions. But to their astonishment, it never escalates beyond these stinging glares directed at one another. You’re surprisingly professional about it on the outside, not letting a single swear word slip out from between your lips, while he bites back a snarky insult.

On the inside, though, you’re a mess.

Haechan has been somewhat of an enemy of yours for as long as you can remember, though by no fault of his own. No matter what you did or how hard you tried, ever since you were both young students struggling to find your footing in the artistic world, he’s always been better than you. At everything.

If you managed to nail a double pirouette, he’d step right up and do a third like it was nothing. You finally got your split? He’s already had it for a month, at least. It just wasn’t fair. You both had started dancing at the same age, at the same time, with the same amount of experience: zero.

In all honesty, Haechan had done nothing wrong. The combination of poor timing and better luck had worked against him all those years ago to brew these bitter feelings inside of your heart, rising to the surface whenever you would set foot inside the familiar studio.

These constant sentiments of inferiority took their toll on you, making you fear being compared to him above anything else. It was childish, but you couldn’t stand to be reminded of feeling completely and utterly incompetent next to him. Whenever you performed, you were grateful for the large amount of other dancers occupying the stage, leaving little opportunity for the two of you to be noticed in conjunction with one another.

Now that it’s going to be just the two of you under the bright beams of light cascading down from the rafters, dancing in close proximity, this worry is at the forefront of your mind.

You would do anything to be able to go back to your first year at the studio, when you were young enough to recognize that his skills seemed to outweigh yours, but as a carefree child you remained largely unbothered by this fact. As you got older, it was like a switch inside of you flipped and made you extra aware of each and every thing that you did. Perhaps it was the heightened self-consciousness that puberty brought combined with the already stressful lifestyle of a dancer, but something changed one day, and it was all you could think about when you saw him.

Your internal doubts always translated into being eerily quiet during practice, asking a question to clarify the movements only when it was absolutely necessary. Even your teacher noticed a shift in how you danced. Your gestures and steps lacked their usual precision, and all the confidence you had built up for so long vanished into thin air.

Not sure how to interpret your sudden silence, Haechan took it upon himself to get a word out of you in whatever way that he could, with comments and jokes and even the occasional compliment on your technique. It hardly helped, though. In fact, your constant failure to respond to his attempts created a sort of resentment in him as well, one not generated by envy or insecurity, but simply by confusion and frustration.

During practice one afternoon, you had become so fed up with him trying to talk to you that you lashed out, pushing him away with surprising strength. “Just leave me alone!” You had shouted at Haechan, but you instantly regretted it when you saw the way his eyes welled up with shiny tears, full of hurt after his genuinely good intentions had been totally rejected by their unwilling recipient. Your guilt, however, failed to overpower your stubbornness.

This sent Haechan into his own spiral of the silent treatment before he started to channel his feelings into a similar bitterness. From that day forth, you each became the other’s arch-enemy, challenging one another in any way that you possibly could inside the studio and on the stage. Your instructor, choreographers, and fellow students quickly became tired of the implicit competition that always existed between you, but what on earth could they do to stop it?

At the present moment, they’re contemplating this exact idea, along with just why your teacher thought pairing you with each other would be a good idea. She had done it with the intention of putting a long overdue partnership into action and hopefully eliminating your immature rivalry. Selfishly, she’s also very eager to see how your mutual contempt translates into movement, inwardly predicting that the tension levels will be off the charts.

Not long after, you’re dismissed from practice for the day, but not without a warning look from Haechan. Against your better judgment, you join him by the doorway once everyone else has filed out of the studio.

He clearly called you over for a reason, but you cut him off without even waiting for him to speak.

“I can’t believe I got stuck with you, of all people, as a dance partner.”

Oh, so this is how you’re acting? Two can play at that game.

“What?” He snickers, “Scared I’ll steal the spotlight?”

“In your dreams, Lee,” you scoff, already tired of his taunting attitude.

“Anyway,” his voice is stern before doing a complete 180, now a bit more gentle, “If we’re going to be dancing together for the next few weeks, we might as well be on speaking terms, don’t you think?” The expression Haechan wears on his face is the softest you’ve seen it in a long time, which is definitely saying something.

“I suppose.” Answer short and tone abrasive, you huff a lousy excuse for a goodbye before marching out and into the hallway, but he’s faster than you. You spin around to shrug off his hand from your shoulder, and it gives him the chance to tell you one last thing.

“Look, if you’re going to be like that, it’s not going to make working together any easier. We’re not little kids anymore. You can go back to hating me once this is all over, but can we at least try to put our differences aside and just cooperate for once?”

You nearly split your lip as you bite down on it, holding back a burst of aggravation at the situation you’ve been put in. “Fine.”

You have no idea how you’re going to get through all the practices and all the shows while simultaneously dealing with the boy, but one thing’s for sure: you’re going to prove that you are just as skilled, and just as talented a dancer as he is.

The next time you see him is two days later, at your first rehearsal for this dance. Your studio has always had a Halloween-themed showcase, but it wasn’t until this year that you were old enough to finally be cast in a more exclusive number. The fact that you’re no longer a part of the large group routine, always performed to the same upbeat tune and with the same easy steps, is one of the few silver linings that your duet with Haechan presents.

Faces lined with fatigue and eyes still heavy with sleep, you both arrive at the studio in the morning, duffel bags in hand, the comfy slides on your feet dragging across the hallway carpet with every step. Loud music blares from inside the room, brightly lit despite the early hour. Beside you, Haechan instantly recognizes the tune to be Michael Jackson’s Thriller, and perks up a little at the sound. Too tired to poke fun at his near obsession with the singer, you let his little celebration of the choreographer’s song choice slide.

It’s not your usual instructor that’s going to be teaching you the movements to go along with the piece, which means you have the added challenge of adapting to a different set of preferences, expectations, and choreographing style.

It’s certainly a dance that’s unlike any you’ve ever learned before.

The rehearsal starts off well, and both of you quickly catch on to the basic steps that are somewhat like those of a waltz, except they have a more sinister feel to them in order to match the spooky time of year. Facing each other but standing on opposite sides of the room, you step forward, to the side, to the back and then to the side again. On each accented beat you throw your heads back sharply, mimicking the way the neck of an inhuman creature might snap under any sort of force.

In the next section of choreography, your gazes are supposed to meet once you tilt your heads downward, slowly this time, but it’s difficult to maintain eye contact with Haechan for more than a few seconds. Maybe it’s the way he doesn’t even hesitate to stalk towards you in this part of the dance, which calls for you to circle each other like a hungry predator and its timid prey. Maybe it’s the animalistic glint in his irises that throws off your balance and makes you stumble when you see it. Or maybe it’s the fact that your rivalry with him has been entirely disregarded at the moment, brain focused solely on absorbing all of the new information and ingraining the movements into your muscle memory, nothing else.

What frightens you even more than the things that go bump in the night is that all those years you spent... well, not hating, but strongly disliking him could go to waste. It usually takes a lot of time for you to get over things like this, and in a way, you feel like you would be disappointing yourself if you let all of the agonizing feelings of self-doubt go, just like that.

These thoughts swirl around in your mind as you listen to the choreographer’s next words.

“Okay, put your hand here.”

“Like this?”

“Yes, now you’re going to drag it across him, from there to there,” she directs you with a finger, “And then he’s going to pick you up in a scissor lift.”

You’ve never done one of those before, but with some helpful guidance, you begin to have a small bit of faith in yourself that you’re capable of pulling it off. The music starts and you go from the top all the way to the part you were just taught, taking a deep breath in preparation for what’s about to happen.

Just like you had been instructed moments ago, you step very close to Haechan, right behind him, actually, and place one hand on his shoulder as you trail the other across the front of his chest, fingernails scratching the skin underneath through the flimsy t-shirt he’s wearing. You step around to stand in front of him and continue the motion, peering at him with a hesitance that melts away and into an assertive gaze once you see the apprehension in his own eyes. His skin crawls a little, not out of fear but an odd satisfaction and excitement at the feeling of you so near and the sight of your eyes bright with so much determination and dominance, lingering touch tracing the base of his neck and stimulating his nerves from head to toe.

You yelp slightly at what he does next even though you knew it was coming, your self-assured exterior evaporating only moments after it appeared. Haechan turns around and sweeps you off of your feet to hold you in his arms. In the blink of an eye, he helps you hook one of your knees behind his head as he tosses you into the air with seemingly no effort whatsoever, flipping you around to face the other way and catching you immediately after. The complicated lift makes your heart leap to the front of your throat with exhilaration, and you mentally applaud yourself for succeeding on the first try.

Haechan finds it odd that you were so willing to do this lift in the first place, since trust is a key component of partner work in dance. He can’t explain it, and neither can you, quite honestly. A small part of him, however, is glad you didn’t object to the prospect of him being directly responsible for your safety for even the most instantaneous of moments.

“Alright, so for this next part, I’m sure you’re aware of that fact that Michael Jackson was famous for his pelvic—”

Okay, that’s enough, you’ve heard enough. Tuning out the conversation and whirling around to face away from the floor-to-ceiling mirror, you twiddle your thumbs while the choreographer teaches Haechan one of the iconic dance steps in Thriller, and your evident shyness at her unabashed explanation makes him smirk. Thankfully, she has a different set of movements prepared for you.

Since when are you ever shy around him, though?

You still can’t bring yourself to watch your reflections in the glass when you practice the new part together, since he gets so into the provocative motions. His eyes seem to taunt you with the smugness they hold, and you hate the way he’s testing you. You can’t stand it, you can’t stand him, you can’t stand those eyes for all the times they send a shiver down your spine, for all the times they come alive with a beast-like glow. Those eyes can go from soft and sympathetic at times, although the moments are rare, to something else entirely. His mocking stares make your stomach turn, reminding you of why you’ve felt this way about him for so long.

But you’re scared that a new and different feeling is developing inside of you, one that’s telling you he’s not so bad, that you should give him a chance. Haechan has noticed a similar one within himself, and he begins to regret the way he immaturely perpetuated your own resentment for so long.

Even if you do end up making amends eventually, he’s not sure he’ll be willing to abandon all of the playful glances and teasing remarks with flirtatious undertones he sends your way. Do you even notice these things? If your periodic blushing is any indication, then the answer is most definitely yes.

You spend another couple of hours under the choreographer’s direction, stopping only when you had been taught each and every step from the piece’s beginning until the end. Though a Halloween-inspired performance, there’s a surprisingly large amount of eerily romantic undertones within it. You don’t have enough fingers to count the number of times you ultimately caress some part of the other’s body in a forbidding manner, with locked eyes and threatening, fiery glares.

The two of you also have a second but more simple lift, in which you jump and Haechan catches you by the legs to pull your torso against his, while you cling to him tightly like a koala. He supports your weight fully, and never once does the possibility of falling cross your mind. It’s strange how your body is so trusting of him, much more so than your mind.

Towards the end of the song, the lyrics mention something about cuddling close together, the timing of your movements intentionally mirroring the words. Haechan walks in a circle, still carrying you in his arms, and unlike when you’re standing on your own two feet, he actually has to look up slightly to meet your gaze with his own. Something doesn’t feel quite right, though, both of you sensing that you should be putting more effort into the eye contact between you right now.

“No, no, no! Stop for a second.” Your choreographer looks frustrated.

“You have to look at each other like you really mean it,” she corrects. “Just imagine that you’re two lovers on Halloween night, clinging to each other for dear life as you’re being surrounded by every kind of monster imaginable.” Even Haechan flushes a deep red at the descriptive picture she paints in your minds, hoping to inspire you. “Try again, please.”

Putting every necessary emotion into your expressions, you both stare each other down as he lifts you up again, this time with a never-before-seen passion burning in your eyes that could only be described as crazed, lustful desire.

Haechan has always admired your skills, although internally these days, ever since he met you, especially your ability to easily adapt to the message or tone of a piece. Happiness, sadness, anger, whatever your instructor asked of you, you could embody the exact feeling on your face, not to mention in the way that you moved to the beat. Out of all of the scenarios your choreographer could have illustrated, this one is something he never would have expected you to be so ready for. He’s taken aback by how smoothly your facial expression transitions from sheepish to seductive in no time flat.

You wish you could say that you’re not flustered by how well he matches the look in your eyes with his own tantalizing gaze, but alas, that’s not the case.

It’s undoubtedly a dance with a more mature theme than either of you are used to, but you’re both such naturals at it that she compliments you once Haechan sets you back on the ground.

“That’s exactly what I want to see! Keep it up, you two. Are you sure you’ve never been in a piece with any sexual tension before?”

You’re glad you hadn’t quite taken a sip from your water bottle yet, because you definitely would’ve spit it out from pure shock and embarrassment at the bluntness of her remark. Haechan was not so lucky.

The two of you run through the dance almost endlessly, and by the end of your rehearsal your legs are threatening to give out at any moment. “Last time,” she alerts you, “And then you’re done for the day.”

A chorus of some minor corrections but mostly proud affirmations meets your ears as you practice the piece for the final time. “Other foot, Haechan... Strong arms! Good... And lift! That’s it...”

About to collapse from exhaustion and grimacing at the disgusting feeling of sweat on every inch of your skin, both of you thank the choreographer once she dismisses you.

“You two did a great job today, now go home and rest. You worked hard.”

Fishing your car keys out of your bag, you hear her packing up her things inside the studio before she exits the room and strides into the hallway, flipping the light switch and shutting the door behind her. “I’m going to recommend to your teacher that she should partner you up more often. I was really surprised by how well you collaborated.” She chuckles a little, “And to think she told me that you might not get along.”

Exchanging questioning looks, you both nod and smile at her before she makes her way down the hallway, leaving the building through the staff door.

“What was that all about?”

“No idea,” you reply to Haechan with nervousness in your voice, not sure if this is the right time to apologize for several years’ worth of constantly being at each other’s throats.

The moment passes before you can make a decision, and Haechan bids you farewell with a “See you around” over his shoulder. You can’t get the choreographer’s comment out of your mind as you drive home.

But she’s right: your chemistry with each other is unbelievable. Each time you practice this dance in front of them, the rest of your friends stand wide-eyed and open-mouthed at how you move in perfect unison, leaping and turning and touching at all the right moments. Your instructor is sure her jaw is on the floor. Sure, she was expecting something powerful, something fierce, but nothing like this.

The weeks leading up to the Halloween showcase are hectic, as they always are, filled with the rush of adrenaline and last-minute preparations being made, ensuring that everything would be ready for those long nights spent on waiting behind the curtains, moving amidst the stage fog, and dancing below the bright spotlights.

You think you’ve spoken to Haechan more in the past 4 days than you have in the past 4 years. He doesn’t know if it’s just his imagination, but it seems like you’ve gotten more comfortable performing with him as time has gone by. Maybe he should be paying more attention to the steps instead of the way you lean further into him as he clutches your form in his strong arms, torsos pressing into one another and the crevices of your bodies aligning with ease. Maybe he shouldn’t get distracted by the closeness of your lips to his forehead, by the distance that always seems to decrease each time you run through the dance. One day he’s sure he’ll feel their delicate curve against his skin, or maybe they’ll slip down a little to be more level with his. Either way, Haechan isn’t complaining.

The rehearsals that spill over from their scheduled time slots into the late hours of the night leave everyone in the show drowsy after the intense quantities of repeated exertion, running piece after piece over and over again until just standing up is a feat within itself.

And then, all of a sudden, it’s the day of the first show. Costumes have been tailored, makeup has been applied and hair has been done up with an ungodly amount of products and pins.

It can’t be much longer until it’s your turn to perform, so you’re not sure why you find yourself grabbing Haechan by the sleeve of his intentionally tattered shirt, meant to look like that of a zombie, and pulling him into a dark, secluded corner of the backstage area.

“We’re on in 5, what are y—”

“Can I apologize?”

He blinks a few times, processing the word he never thought he would hear leave your lips.

“For... huh?”

“Everything.” You’re thankful that the lighting is minimal back here, concealing the glistening water drops that are beginning to gather at the rims of your eyes.

Voice nearly breaking, you can’t articulate why it feels like the right time to say all of this. But here you are.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for so many years of unexplained anger and outbursts towards you, I’m sorry that I’ve been acting so immature even after all this time. I’m sorry for blaming you and making excuses to justify my actions and my feelings, I—”

You have more that you want to say but the words are no longer coming out, and maybe it’s because your throat feels like it’s burning from all of the emotion it just conveyed in the span of just a few seconds. Maybe it’s because you’ve somehow lost your voice even though you hadn’t been speaking above a whisper. But the most probable cause of them all, is this: maybe it’s because you’ve been rendered speechless by Haechan’s own apology that he delivers by messily crashing his mouth into yours, any further thoughts melting away against his soft lips.

For once, you don’t mind being cut off by him if it’s like this.

His heart begins to sink when you pull away after only a few seconds, but a small smile graces his features once again as you lean in so that your lips hover next to his ear.

“You better not mess up my makeup, Lee Haechan.”

“Donghyuck, actually.”

“What?” Quizzically, you arch an eyebrow.

“My name. My real name.”

“So why do y—”

“Shh, no time. Kiss now, talk later.”

You can’t argue with that. Not when he’s beholding you with a long-awaited forgiveness and a fondness long-concealed in his eyes. Not when the thrill of a time limit has your brains going a mile a minute, an electric buzz erupting over the expanse of your skin his hands are grasping.

You kiss him like it’s the only thing in the whole world that you know how to do. The setting is far from picturesque, with the tangled technical wires littering the floor at your feet and leftover stage equipment haphazardly leaning against the wall, but neither of you really care. Taking care not to snag the fabric of your costume, his fingers find purchase on your waist and his lips on the dip of your collarbone. At first they dotingly imprint fleeting pecks onto the rise and fall of the skin there, but when their pressure and his haste starts to escalate, you know you have to stop him before he starts something you can’t finish.

“Hyuck!” The abbreviation of his name makes his head snap up, bewildered but pleased.

“You can’t leave marks, I told you...” you trail off. “Hey, why are you smiling like that?”

“Please never call me anything else, ever.”

Donghyuck brings you in for one more kiss, well aware that a stagehand could turn the corner at any given moment. Drinking you in, he captures your lips between his, letting your body press his back into the wall behind him, and a few sharp inhales later, you break apart.

You fix his hair while he adjusts your clothes, and you’re just in time because a technician spots you and urgently gestures towards the stage. “You’re up!”

Positioning yourselves on opposite sides of the large performance space, the lights go down and you hear the rush of air from the heavy curtain opening as it glides past you. The thick artificial smoke partially obscures his form, but you can see his eyes clearly, nearly glowing in the darkness.

As the music starts, slow and quiet at first, you step to the rhythm just like you practiced. When a loud, electronic chord blares, you both pick up speed, launching into that waltz step you first learned many weeks earlier. For the first time ever, you’re able to look into his eyes.

Anyone could see that your movements complement each other effortlessly, but only your teacher picks up on the shift in mood after the countless times she’s seen you perform in the studio. Only she notices the shift in both of your gazes. You look... happy. Focused. Confident.

Donghyuck was able to bring you out of the shell you retreated into so long ago. You don’t feel subordinate as you’re dancing next to him, or being held in his arms. You move as equals, two parts of a whole.

When he picks you up, you can’t help but allow a small smile to stretch your lips. Donghyuck tries to remind you that you’re supposed to have lustful looks in your eyes by narrowing his own at you, but it’s no use. Your slight grin is contagious, and it ends up taking over his face as well.

You finish the piece smoothly, ending in a pose with your backs pressed together and hands clasped. Applause erupts from the audience, and a few cheers come from the rest of the performers waiting in the wings, shielded from the view of the crowd sitting in the seats below.

Needless to say, as you pass other dancers in the halls and receive countless congratulations and compliments, all you can think about is having Donghyuck’s lips on your skin again.

One long heart-to-heart and dozens, no, hundreds of kisses later, all is right with your world. It’s foreign territory to you both, not wanting to pounce on each other at every waking moment. But it’s something you’ll explore together, figuring out how to make up for lost time and just how to go about this newly-repaired relationship.

Exiting the empty dressing room, you take his hand in your own and head backstage once again to watch the rest of the showcase from the side, with your head leaning on his shoulder and his arm pulling you close.

At the party held for all the members of the show’s cast that night, it’s far too loud for your liking, and there’s no room to properly dance with Donghyuck. Despite you all being professional dancers-in-training, everyone else seems to have reverted to the mindset of your average high school student, thinking that jumping up and down repeatedly qualifies as dancing. You disagree, but whatever. It’s not important.

What is important, however, is the fact that the two of you would much rather escape the suffocating crowd of young adults. You would much rather slip out through the sliding glass door that leads to the house’s backyard, marveling at the fading sunset that melts into a deep blue night sky dotted with splashes of clustered lights. The stars are nature’s spotlights, shining down on you as Donghyuck takes you in his arms, one hand finding yours and the other resting on your side, somewhere between your hips and your waist.

Swaying in the silence with only the noises of the evening as your soundtrack, the boy that you would’ve sworn was the devil incarnate a month ago looks so angelic, so lovable. You can’t believe this is what you’ve been missing out on.

“So, should we start over?”

“Definitely.”

There’s no one else in this world you’d rather dance the night away with.

383 notes · View notes

bittersweetmelxdy · 4 years

Note

hiiiii, if it’s not too much trouble would you mind writing First Kiss headcanons with the boys?

Here we are, I don’t know how many months ago you asked for this, but here it is 4.5k words of First Kiss scenarios with the boys, hope you like it x

Victor: A kiss to resolve doubts

One thing I think the majority of us can agree upon, is that the first time Victor kisses you it’s in a rush of emotion, it’s explosive and sudden, and the best example of it would be: fireworks.

Since you and Victor had started dating you had fallen into a teasing relationship (read: Victor took great joy in teasing you, whilst you fired comebacks and pouted accordingly), so you were very much comfortable being around him, seeing him often as a pillar of strength and comfort for you.

So, when Victor offhandedly mentioned he needed a companion for a gala event, you jumped at it, in truth when Victor had asked you your heart had skipped a beat. With Victor being a chief investor in your company, you often felt you had to tread very carefully when it came to your relationship with Victor. You and your employees worked way too hard for all your hard work to be disregarded as nepotism, therefore, you found yourself almost tiptoeing in certain situations with the stoic CEO.

But honestly, anyone who saw how Victor treated you and your company would never accuse you of nepotism, in fact the LFG employees sometimes felt pity for you as because you were his girlfriend, Victor seemed to hold you to a different standard, pushing you to be the best you could be with an extremely critical eye.

As it was between friends, you and the others (Kiki, Willow, Anna and Minor) often gossiped about your lives, and a recurring topic was your relationship. However, due to Victor’s more private nature you carefully kept a lot of details close to your chest, which the others pouted about but ultimately understood, and would move on to another topic. But you soon became lost in your thoughts, as you and Victor despite being together, had never kissed, something that occurred to you during Kiki’s teasing. Noticing the time, you shook your head, as if to dispel the very thoughts from your mind, gathering your things to return to work.

However, the thoughts didn’t leave you, and you thought about it as you got ready for the gala. Victor was a great boyfriend, don’t get me wrong, but you felt a little uncomfortable about bringing up the “first kiss” issue in front of him, but since you didn’t doubt the position you held in his heart you settled your nerves and went downstairs from your apartment where Victor was waiting for you in his car.

The drive to the gala, and a large amount of the gala passed like a blur for you, being present physically but not mentally. Victor noticing did not push the issue but kept glancing at you to check your complexion and expression for insight. But it all seemed to come to a head when you and Victor were about to leave.

“Whilst I just say goodbye to the host, stay here. I don’t need to spend extra time looking for you like a lost child.” Victor added the second sentence hoping to get a rise from you, but to his sheer surprise your only response was a simple.

“Okay.” you looked down at your feet, and squeezing your hand tightly once, Victor let go and left you by yourself, to which you sighed deeply.

“Well, look who it is?” a snide voice rang out, and you shivered recognising the owner, lifting your head in dread to reveal the women addressing you.

“Chic, it’s nice to see you.” you responded politely, smiling in greeting despite your downcast mood.

“I saw you with Victor,” she started, coming to a halt in front of you, “it’s interesting, you say you’re dating but Victor isn’t anywhere near as passionate with you as he was with me.” she leaned closer, dropping her voice as she delivered the final blow into your ear, “I mean he never could keep his hands off ME.” as with a swish of her skirt she was gone, and the breath was ripped from your throat.

Try as you might, you mind couldn’t help but bring up the past memories of way back in your acquaintance when you and Victor had just met. When you had gone to see Victor in his office, and you had seen Chic leave his office smug, and Victor inside had a dishevelled tie and lipstick smudged on his lips. And at this time, Chic and Victor were NOT officially dating, at least they didn’t have the public relationship you and Victor had.

Whilst you were stewing in your thoughts, you never even noticed that Victor had returned, his warm hand grabbing your chilled one was a shock to the system.

“You ready to leave?” he asked, softly, leading you out of the gala towards where his car was parked.

Once you were at the car, and heard Victor unlock the car, about to open the door for you, like the gentleman he is. Then the dam broke inside of you and you dug your heels into the ground, clenching your fists and voicing the fears that had plagued you all day.

“Why?” you choked out, “Why can’t you?”

“Why can’t I what?” Victor turned to you, his arm resting on the top of his car, “Use your words dummy, otherwise how can I know what’s going on in that head on yours.” Victor’s tone remained affectionate, however his care only grated on your frayed nerves.

“Why can’t you kiss me Victor?” your voice despite not being very loud, was deafening in the silence of the car park.

“That’s what been bothering you all evening, listen you-”

“Is it because I’m not as attractive as Chic!”

“What does Chic have to do with this?” Victor advanced on you, his tone deep and low, and your back hit the car door.

“You could never keep your hands off of her, so why am I different?” tears were streaming down your cheeks at this point, and Victor’s resolve snapped.

“Idiot.” he said lowly, and before you could even open your mouth to comment on this, he pinned you against the car, hands cradling your face, sealing his lips with yours.

The kiss was hard and heavy, and brimming with emotion, your lips tingled with the pressure and how hard Victor was pressed against you, almost as if he was trying to meld his lips onto yours. When he finally pulled back, you were left panting for air, as the sudden kiss stole the breath from you, and Victor’s thumb moved across your bottom lip rubbing it as if to soothe the soreness of it. Your eyes remained locked together, as Victor rested, he forehead against yours, breathing as hard as you.

“I didn’t want to come on too strong, dummy.” Victor panted, “I was being considerate.”

“So... it’s not because you don’t think I’m unattractive?” you bashfully asked.

“I wouldn’t be with you if I thought that.” Victor flicked your forehead in punishment, “Come on, let’s go home.” before completely leaving your presence, he leant down and placed a final gentle peck on your lips, before opening the door to let you sit down.

Once he was sat in the driver’s seat he paused and turned to you, “And next time, talk to me, before you drive yourself silly on your own okay?” at your agreement he laughed and ruffled your hair, happy that your doubts were now firmly resolved.

Lucien: a kiss as a reward

With how Lucien is, (a partly to do with his theme music), I just think of your first kiss with Lucien is as smooth as this man is.

There was a lot riding on this multi-part documentary, it had been a 3-month project, filled with countless interviews and late-night researching. So as the final day crawled closer and closer, you and the other employees were becoming more and more haggard, as everyday seemed to have a to-do list that was a mile long, along with the work you had to do for other projects, it was all becoming a bit much for you.

You were so grateful to have Lucien in your life at a time like this, he would always be there for you, dropping you off at work and picking you up, greeting you after a long day with outstretched arms for you to bury yourself into. You felt sorry for him, as you weren’t being a very attentive girlfriend, often just falling asleep in his arms as you sat on the couch together.

However, Lucien seemed to take it all in his stride, doing his job as a ‘Supportive Boyfriend’ flawlessly, whenever he didn’t need to be at the University or the Research Centre, he could be found accompanying you to interviews and standing off-stage during shoots, supporting you with his presence.

Honestly, he had no problem that you were so exhausted you practically passed out the moment you settled on his couch, in fact he loved it. He was beyond happy that you were so comfortable in his presence that you fell asleep in his embrace. It also helped that because of you became a dead weight to the world, Lucien would get to carry you, bridal style, back to your apartment and tuck you into bed and then as a reward for him the two of you would eat breakfast together, the soft domesticity of the situation was not lost on Lucien. So, he would just smile sweetly at you, doing his best to be in your presence as much as possible, and taking care of you from the shadows.

But it nearly over, you woke up on the final day, the day you and your team would view the final cut of the finale of the documentary. The whole week, you and your team had been viewing each part of the documentary, only making minor changes where needed, and finally you were up to the finale. Pushing the blankets off you, you hurried through your shower and got dressed, dancing around your room humming a happy tune to yourself. Once finally ready, you went about making breakfast, adding a little extra flair due to the importance of today. When you heard the muffled firm raps on the door, you perked up and rushed to the door, revealing your boyfriend.

Lucien stood on the opposite side of the door, and when the opening door revealed his beaming girlfriend, the smell of breakfast wafting into the corridor, he chuckled drawing you into a hug, and once he released you, you led him to the dining table gesturing for him to sit whilst you brought out breakfast, and the two of you ate whilst Lucien watched you amusedly.

“So, I’ll take it you’re excited for today?” he mused, and you nodded emphatically, your cheeks puffed as you munched on your toast.

You gulped in down and opened your mouth, “It’s the final viewing of the finale, and you’re coming with me to see it, so I’m real excited.” you looked down bashfully, wondering if Lucien found your behaviour childish.

But although Lucien did chuckle at you puffed cheeks, he reached out and brushed his knuckles across your cheek affectionately, ridding it of stray crumbs. Showing that he appreciated your childlike behaviour, as he rose to gather the dishes to help you tidy up. Once the two of you had cleaned up, Lucien waited for you at the door as you gathered your coat and put your shoes on.

Lucien drove you to work, and by the time Lucien had parked the car in your company’s car park, you were bouncing in excitement. You were literally bouncing with every step you took, and Lucien just trailed amusedly behind you, watching you bounce your way into the conference room.

“Boss!”, “Boss Lady!”, “Y/N!” a chorus of your excited employees greeted you, and you beamed in response happy to know your team was as excited for this as you were, and you tugged Lucien by the hand into two available seats.

Lucien found greater enjoyment watching your reactions to the finale than the documentary itself. You clenched your thumb nail between your teeth, eyes wide and bright, overcome with emotion at how all your hard work had paid off. Once it was over, you and your team stood up clapping and cheering at how well it was put together, and Lucien stood to the side watching as you, Kiki and Anna embraced, complimenting each other on your hard work. Then you rushed over to him, smiling brightly and you threw your arms around his neck hugging him tightly, and Lucien reciprocated the embrace wrapping his arms around your waist, and using his position of his face over your shoulder, he scanned the room, and noticing no one was paying attention to the two of you, he put his plan in motion.

“Good job.” Lucien drew back from you, and then without ceremony or build-up his leaned in a pressed a slow kiss on your lips, smiling against your lips at the audible hitch in your breath.

You flushed in a rosy hue, your eyelashes fluttering as you came to, and you opened your mouth to response but you were cut off by a teasing whistle, and Willow’s voice.

“Get it Boss.” she teased, and she, Kiki, Anna and Minor started to laugh at your expense as the blush rose to the tips of your ears, and you covered your face with your hands burying yourself in Lucien’s chest.

Lucien chuckled, using his arms to manoeuvre you out of the room whilst still hiding you in his embrace, “Okay, I’ll be taking her home now.” and the two of you left, whilst the laughter and playful teases of your friends followed you.

Kiro: a kiss in a rush of excitement

Kiro was well-loved, we all knew that, he packed stadiums and his songs were streamed and loved by the masses. But you knew more than anyone else, the deep-rooted insecurity that clawed at Kiro’s gut and followed him like a shadow, whenever he had to drop a new single/EP/album.

He had told you softly during your nightly video call, pouting adorably in his glasses, and squirming as he sat, saying softly and fast-paced, “I’m scared, would you come over tomorrow.” and once he had finished, he looked off to the side, avoiding your gaze, despite you calling his name a few times, however at the fourth call of his name, he shyly turned his gaze back to you, taken aback at your soft smile, and your sweet response of “If you need me, I’ll be there.”

The next day, you rose bright and early, getting dressed in whites and sky-blues (to match the aesthetic of the new EP), and you quickly gathered your things and your way downstairs where Savin’s car was waiting for you. You hopped into the car and chatted pleasantries with Savin along the way, and you could clearly see the pride radiating from Savin as he spoke about Kiro.

In his apartment, Kiro was pacing back and forth, anxiously waiting for your arrival, he hadn’t even got changed out of his pyjamas that morning as he was so nervous about this morning. When he heard the soft knocks against his door, he rushed to it, not even bothering to look through the peephole, ripping open the door. Once his eyes landed on you, he tugged you into his arms, locking his arms around your back and burying his face into your neck, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck, making you giggle at the ticklish sensation.

“Miss Chips, I’m so glad to see you!” Kiro leaned back, his eyes bright and joyful, but you could feel his finger flex on your back, and his apparent bed-head showed his nervousness.

You reached up and carded your fingers through his golden tresses, smiling at him, “Alright Superstar, I’m here.” you nodded to Savin in farewell, as you led Kiro back into his apartment and into his kitchen.

Savin seeing Kiro was in good hands, offered you a smile as shook his head leaving the two of you as he headed to the office, knowing he had to monitor Kiro’s social media in the runup to the release of the EP.

Once you had given Kiro a glass of water, and made a hot drink for yourself, the two of you moved back to the couch where you managed to convince Kiro to sit down. Once seated, Kiro continued to fidget in his seat, and he gripped your hand tightly, interlocking your fingers, as he opened his laptop, revealing the Weekly Music Release Countdown streaming Live from ‘Variety Express’. The host was introducing her segment where she spoke about the Top Ten releases, and Kiro started bouncing his leg, your intertwined hands bouncing with the force.

You knew why Kiro was nervous, this was his first new release since you two had announced you were dating, and the song the EP was named after, was a song he had written about you, that and it was a stripped down completely acoustic EP. Despite, you telling Kiro so many times when it came out (as he kept it a surprise), that it touched your heart, you knew he was scared how his fans would accept the stripped down, raw version of the Kiro they loved.

As the announcer entered the top three, the hand that wasn’t holding yours tightened in a fist, his knuckles turning white, and you just leaned into his shoulder patiently waiting for as the top spot creeped closer. When the second spot was revealed to not be Kiro’s EP, you could Kiro’s breath hitch, and although you had complete faith in Kiro’s talent, it was hard to remain confident when Kiro’s insecurity was literally bleeding out from him.

“Now before we reveal the top release, let me tell you that the release despite only being released two days ago, has been streamed already a total of tens of millions of times the number growing as we speak, it’s titular song accounting for 16 million of those views. Fans have described it as ‘Vocally and musically perfect.’, ‘heart-melting’, ‘so emotional, you really feel the love from the artist’.”

You furrowed your brows, knowing that they had create suspense, but for once you wished they would just get it over with and tell you all what was the top release of this week. Chancing a glance at Kiro, his jaw was clenched and feeling his stress you started worrying the nail of your thumb between your teeth.

“Here it is, your top release for this week, was the new EP released by Kiro!” the announcer FINALLY revealed, the rest of what you said was lost on you and Kiro, who jumped to his feet, drawing you up with him.

Once he was standing he wasted no time in picking you up in his arms, spinning you around, laughing joyfully a clear contrast in how much of a nervous wreck he was before. You joined in his laughter, your combined joy bouncing off the walls, when Kiro stopped, panting as his clear blue eyes locked with yours, your face hovering above him. A couple of seconds passed, the livestream playing Kiro’s song to you as your background music, as Kiro in an action that surprise you, buried his fingers in the hair on the back of your head, as pushed your face down, locking his lips with yours, his sudden kiss brimming with sparks of residual excitement. You yelp in surprise at the action was sufficiently muffled by the Superstar’s mouth on yours, your breath mingling.

Kiro lowered you to the floor, only breaking the kiss as your toes skimmed the ground, your cheeks were flushed with a rosy hue, and Kiro’s smile in response could blind the sun. He kept you in his embrace, and whilst still panting you laid your forehead against his chest, Kiro laughing out loud at how adorable you were.

“Miss Chips, I love you.” Kiro pressed a kiss to the top of your head, carded a hand through your hair.

“I love you too, Kiro.” you breathed, “How about you get dressed, and we can go on a date?”

Kiro nodded enthusiastically and rushed back into his bedroom to get dressed for your date, once he was inside and you sat back on the couch, to wait for him. You were once again shocked, when Kiro suddenly reappeared, grabbing both your hands and pulling you up. He looked you up and down, twirling you to completely assess your outfit, and after nodding once he rushed back to the bedroom, as you giggled at his antics.

“Just making sure I match you, Miss Chips.” Kiro called behind the closed door, as you continued to giggle at your boyfriend.

Gavin: a kiss to show I’m home

Like with his first ‘I love you’, I personally believe Gavin kisses you naturally, it isn’t too much of a surprise but a build-up to the inevitable and you and he just sort of fall into it, now with that being said it’s not like it didn’t come as a surprise to both of you, but looking back it definitely was a long time coming.

You were dancing around your kitchen, making a light dinner as you cast your eyes over to your calendar where you had circled the date Gavin was going to be returning from his mission. It was two days away and you were already preparing a large welcoming dinner for his return, you’d written your shopping list and tomorrow you’d head to the supermarket to gather the ingredients that you needed.

As you were tasting your soup, you heard a knock at the door, you frowned as you were not expecting any deliveries or visitors, especially as it was getting late in the night. But you walked over to the door, leaning up to see through the peephole, spotting a dishevelled Eli, supporting a slumped brunette that you realised quickly was your boyfriend. Opening the door as quickly as you could with trembling hands you let Eli pull Gavin into your apartment.

“Hey, where’s your bedroom?” he asked, Gavin’s groans not putting him off his stride.

“Second door on the right.” you called, quickly getting your medical kit from the cupboard under the sink.

Eli laid Gavin down on the bed, and you came in behind him, biting your lip in worry, “What’s wrong with him Eli?”

“Gavin’s been through worse, he’s fine-”

“Eli. What’s. Wrong. With. Him.” you gritted out, a blind man could clearly see that Gavin wasn’t “fine”. People who were “fine” didn’t need to be supported by their colleagues to their girlfriend’s home, as they were barely conscious and bleeding.

“Don’t worry, it’s mostly surface wounds, but he did get a deeper wound on his side, the blood loss and possible infection has caused a slight fever, he should be fine, but he does need SOMEONE to look after him.” Eli teased you gently, but quelled your fears slightly related to Gavin’s injury.

You thanked Eli for bringing Gavin to you, and after seeing him out, you gathered a bowl of ice water with some rags and the spare fleece blanket you kept on your couch, and made your way back to the bedroom. After unbuttoning his shirt and wrestling Gavin’s combat boots off, you wiped the sweat from your brow, standing up and putting them neatly to the side. Then you checked his temperature, one hand against his forehead and the other atop yours, your hand being more chilled compared to his forehead meant he sighed in relief at the change in temperature.

After tucking him in, making sure the fleece blanket covered his feet, legs and most of his chest, having at one point to hold the blanket down as Gavin tried to kick it off. After wiping down his neck, face and chest with a rag, trying to quell your raging blush, you then changed the rag, laying it gently atop his forehead stroking his cheeks with your knuckles as his expression finally relaxed.

Thinking that he would be okay for a while, and you should probably leave him to rest for a bit, you went to leave when you heard Gavin moving in his sleep. His hand shooting out and grabbing yours for support. Your heart felt a sharp pain as Gavin’s grip tightened, tossing his head to and fro in his fever state. Squeezing his hand firmly, you used your other hand and pressed the cooling rag into his forehead, keeping it anchored there and hoping that would help. a harsh breeze rippled through your apartment, and you grit your teeth slightly at the chill behind it. However, the breeze did carry your scent towards Gavin, and once recognising it he immediately calmed down enough to release your hand that was beginning to tingle due to lack of blood flow.

You spent most of the night tending to Gavin, changing the cloth often to keep his temperature down and wiping down his sweat carefully and gently. By the time his fever broke, coincidentally dawn was also breaking, and you ware exhausted, so much so that you passed out whilst kneeling on the side of the bed.

Blinking blearily, you were awoken by the rustling of the bed, focusing in the soft daylight you made out the leg of Gavin swinging over onto the floor, and you rocketing up, stumbling over your feet as you pressed against Gavin’s shoulders.

“No, no, you need to rest.”

“Hey, I’m fine.”

“Gavin no-”

“Y/N I-”

With the combined of you pushing at Gavin’s shoulders and him pushing you back, Gavin’s greater strength caused you to stumble backwards, and in your sleep-addled state you began to fall backwards. But, Gavin in order to prevent any harm, yanked you towards him so you fell into his chest, knee balancing you on the edge of the bed, in-between his legs. Your leaned forwards, your foreheads connecting and through the skin-to-skin contact you knew his fever had finally broken.

Gavin kept his eyes on you, flicking from your closed eyelids to your lips, before taking a leap of faith and tilting his head, connecting your lips, softly and tentatively together. Testing the waters, and getting his first taste of your lips. Your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly relaxed into it, Gavin’s hands moving so they rested around your waist, cradling you close to him as something precious. The emotion that poured through the kiss, caused tears to spill from your eyes, and breaking apart, you snifled, reaching up to wipe your eyes, when Gavin brushed his nose against yours, getting you to focus on him.

“Thank you, for taking care of me.” he smiled bashfully at you.

You shook your head gently, noses knocking together, “No, thank YOU, for coming back to me.”

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letteredlettered · 4 years

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i love the way you write more than i do any other writer, of fic or otherwise. do you have any particular writing inspo that’s shaped the way you write? like any books, shows, etc? thanks!

Thank you so much! This is such an amazing thing to say. I’m so glad you feel this way and thought to tell me so.

I wrote about my influences, but it got long, so here is a cut:

Here are some early influences:

-Christy, by Catherine Marshall. This was the first book I ever wrote fanfic for. I was in 4th grade. I was upset with the ending. I wanted so desperately for the book to continue that I studied the writing a lot so that what I wrote would feel like the book. I don’t actually know that it’s particularly well written, but I learned SPAG, show-don’t-tell, and dialogue tags from it.

-Mists of Avalon, by Marion Zimmer Bradley. We’ve learned some bad stuff about MZB over the years, but when I was in 7th grade, I was obsessed with this book. I thought a lot about how she constructed her characters by putting the plot together and I studied the writing style. I can’t say that this book is particularly well written either, but I learned about POV and character voices from it.

-Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte. I was absolutely obsessed with this book for years. I cannot even calculate the way in which this book influence both me as a person and my writing. As far as writing, I was particularly influenced by the themes and the syntax.

-Robin McKinley. I used to love this author devoutly. I didn’t “study” her books as much as the other ones, but I always wanted to sound like her. I think I was very influenced by her subject matter and tone.

When I got older, I started to look back on books I’d read and use them as ways to create certain voices. Here are a few I turn to:

-Jane Austen. I would go to her for syntax, word choice, simplicity and clarity of phrasing, and humor. I think unconsciously, she influenced a lot of what I do in terms of the reader and the author sharing things that the main character doesn’t exactly see themselves.

-Toni Morrison. I learned a lot about lyricism from her, but one of my favorite techniques of hers is switching between highly literary and super colloquial language, sometimes in the same sentence. Morrison also consistently reminds me that there is not a General Audience. Instead, there is you. Just you, reading these words, wherever you are, and I’m writing for you, and not for anyone else. I think about that all the time.

-Borges. I think about him a lot when I need very striking word choice. He’s a lot like Jane Austen in that he can describe something quite precisely in a way that feels quite light and amusing, but unlike Jane Austen it feels staggeringly literary and elevated. I think about that a lot--how to be pretentious but still be comprehended.

-Arrows of the Queen, by Mercedes Lackey. Whenever I get too pretentious and stop writing things I like, I read this book. It is not well written. It is the tween fantasy of so many of us who loved horses and wanted to be magic. I use it to remind myself that you don’t have to sound smart or write what other people want. If your id wants it, you’re still okay if you give it exactly what it wants.

In later years, I started to watch more TV. You can’t get things like style and voice for prose from TV, but they can be great for dialogue and very instructional on how to put plots together. Here are some shows I think about all the time:

-Avatar the Last Airbender: This show has a lot of archetypal characters that manage to not feel cliche even though they’re archetypal. It also has fairly tight plots, many of which are episodic but fit extremely neatly into larger arcs. This is hard to do and can be great for taking apart the pieces and looking at how they work.

-Buffy the Vampire Slayer: I mentioned this in another post, but I took notes on this show to see how jokes were constructed. It’s also quite useful for sharp, fast-paced dialogue.

Gilmore Girls: I’ve only ever used this exclusively for sharp, fast-paced dialogue.

Lastly, I could not conclude this post without mentioning that I’ve been very influenced by fanfic over the years and things I’ve read online. Some of these have been more influential to me than anything else:

mistful. This writer no longer has fic online, but this is where I learn how a tight 3rd POV can reveal things to the reader that the viewpoint character does not see. The lightness of her writing also helped me to finally say goodbye to my overly chunky prose, which did no service to the character-driven stories I tend to prefer. I also learned to write attraction from her.

kita. I started reading kita’s fic when I was in a post-modernist literature class. While I was reading kita, I was reading Gravity’s Rainbow. Kita’s writing is the opposite of mine, usually dense and heavy without much dialogue. She did a lot of experimental stuff, some of which worked for me and some of which did it, but it gave me the bravery to try a lot of things I otherwise never would have done.

lynnenne. Lynnenne has a deft, clean style that you don’t notice at first but can really pack a punch when it needs to. She has a great sense of rhythm. The biggest influence she had on me is she beta’ed a fic once and just started chopping out sentences. It was strange to have things I thought were good deleted, and see that through the deletion, the rest became more powerful. I became a huge fan of hardcore editing after that.

Luckily I have @icmezzo, who deserves mention as a fantastic beta who literally made me kill darlings. Literally. She made me cut the word darling.

refur. Refur’s SPN fic is still one of the most shockingly good things I’ve ever read. I think of them as someone who taught me some things about parentheses.

Captive Prince. This is not a fanfic! This is an original novel, by C.S. Pacat, but I first began reading online. Their sharp, clean style is something I really admire. The most important thing I learned from them was the value of the word “said.”

I’ve read and seen a lot of other things that have influenced me over the years, but these are the things that always come to mind when I think about what shaped my writing.

#writing #influences #linnys

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mcustorm · 4 years

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45 M/M Gay Movies, Ranked

The other day I bit the bullet and decided to watch Brokeback Mountain for the first time. All I knew about that movie was that it was basically the CMBYN of yesteryear and somebody got killed with a tire iron. Anyways, so I finish the movie and realize that I’ve seen a *lot* of gay movies, especially in the last couple of years. So here are my rankings according to nothing but my personal preference. I won’t write about all of them, but you can ask about something if I leave it out.

I wish I could give you a rubric for this. The reality is, there are some radically different movies on this list with different tones and intentions. There’s buddy comedies, tearjerkers, small indie features, big theater releases. So trying to rank them all is TUFF.

The Way He Looks - Such a beautiful coming-of-age movie. Maybe the 2nd one I saw on this list? Perfect length, perfect characterization, simple yet compelling, clever. And nothing feels better than reaching a happy ending (for once, because some of these movies’ endings-- SHEESH) that’s been earned. It just hasn’t been topped.

2. God’s Own Country

3. Pride

4. Kanarie - Yea, we don’t talk about this movie enough. It’s one of the most recent that I’ve seen. Beautiful. The way that it references apartheid and the war to reflect the protagonist’s feelings? Flawless.

5. Jongens - The first movie that I saw on this list, gets many a bonus point for that.

6. Moonlight - Yes, I am black. Yes, I understand this movie may be too low. Moonlight kind of scares me. In general, there’s not nearly enough discourse surrounding this one for me. But while it’s not exactly a popcorn-muncher, to me it’s the most personal movie on the list. When I look at Chiron and all that he’s been through, I can’t help but draw parallels to my own story up to this point. It holds a mirror up to me in a way that no other movie on this list does. That makes me uncomfortable.

But it is so poetic. Have you guys seen the script for this? The directing, the SOUNDTRACK, the acting. Phenomenal.

7. Weekend

8. Call Me By Your Name - Yes, I am aware of people’s beef with this one. Yes, I understand a lot of people may feel this one is overrated. While I do think this one gets worse on rewatch, the truth is, it’s not really *that* overrated because hot take: most (meaning over half) of the movies on this list range somewhere from “just okay” to “painstakingly bad”.

It’s the score, the cinematography, the subtext in most all of the dialogue, the acting, the way that you can smell the apricots through the fucking screen. People who say this movie is a vacation ad are fucking CORRECT. One of my biggest gripes however is that it’s too fucking long. And uh, that age difference...

And Armie Hammer’s a weirdo...

9. Dating Amber* - Dating Amber has one of those “Duh” premises that sounds like it could’ve been done like 30 times before yet I can’t think of any other examples of it. So what you’d think would be a wacky premise actually turns out to be a frankly poignant movie with an emotional story arc for the main two characters.

10. Hello Stranger: The Movie* - This movie, which is the first sequel (sorta) on the list, frankly had no business being as good as it was. Even though the web series is required viewing, I felt the movie fixed like all of the series’ issues: pacing, lack of compelling drama, the awkward quarantine format. The drama and stakes are there without us having to visit Angst City. And the theme and the ending reprise is HEAT.

11. Uncle Frank* - Uncle Frank is like The Help of gay movies. Like The Help, it’s *overall* a short, sweet and fluffy movie set decades ago. Like The Help, you’ll still come out of it feeling pretty good even though it has some dark moments. Also like The Help, you’ll wonder after the fact if the central white girl absolutely needed to be so...well, central for this story to be told. Bonus points for Paul Bettany and Character Actress Margo Martindale.

12. Brokeback Mountain - Tragic.

13. Moffie - Set during the South African border war, same as Kanarie. You even hear the word “moffie” throughout Kanarie. Anyways, this is a war movie for the gays, and a very intense watch. I liked that it was a much more realistic view of what a soldier endured during that period, and of course on the flip side I thought it was more thorough in its depiction of the rampant racism. I gotta find a good book on this era.

14. A Moment In the Reeds

15. Get Real - Maybe the most out of place movie on the list. I need to rewatch it. I do recall absolutely loving the score, however. Like, I fucks with this:

youtube

16. Freier Fall - When I finished Brokeback I was like, “Wait, wasn’t that just Free Fall with extra steps?” And yea, it kinda is. But even discount Brokeback is still pretty good.

17. Beautiful Thing - There are few things to like about this one, the relationship between the two guys, the mother’s love for her son even though it’s not all rainbows, that nice little final scene. I did not care for the dark-skinned woman being portrayed as, you know, the drug abusing, school dropout, gossipy, butt of jokes neighbor. But that guy really looks like Tom Holland tho.

18. Love, Simon - It’s at this point that I move from “Yea, that movie is good, you should watch it!” to “Look, you may like it, you may not.”

19. The 10 Year Plan - This movie is so fucking cheesy that there was cheddar coming though my speakers. But when I think of “Hallmark/Lifetime, but for the gays” this is the crown jewel. There’s some other movies on this list that could’ve taken some notes.

20. The Christmas Setup* - The trend of fluffy-white-gay-cable-network-movie continues and in good form. It’s not deep. It’s not really thought provoking. It’s cute. Fran Drescher is there. You should watch it.

21. Giant Little Ones

22. Hidden Kisses

23. Alex Strangelove - In a unique twist, the emotional core of this one is arguably between Alex and his girlfriend. All that ends up happening, however, is we the viewer keep wanting more Alex/Elliott scenes; those are the most electric in the whole movie. The end result is a hot yet endearing mess.

24. Fair Haven

25. The Thing About Harry - Freeform’s attempt at making a cheesy rom-com for the gays. It’s...okay. I personally feel like the main character’s friend is highkey trifling but it’s whatever.

26. Your Name Engraved Herein* - So I guess I’ve decided I officially hate angst. I mean, I get how it’s often necessary to tell an effective story, but I’m just not here for 2 hour indie angst fests that get passed off as “high art” anymore. I cannot do it. Somehow this is Brokeback’s fault...there just has to be a better way to tell gay stories in the 2020′s. Anyways, the last song was fuego.

27. The Perfect Wedding - Easily the most bizarre movie on this list. It’s so bad, I liked it a lot.

28. Naz and Maalik - The first half of the movie with the two leads just riffing is some pretty great stuff. The back half starts throwing plot developments that are just less than interesting.

29. My Best Friend

30. The Curiosity of Chance

31. Being 17 - Boring. Angsty.

32. And Then We Danced

33. Center of My World - Has some of the most trifling characters EVER. I was so angry. This movie for me has *0* rewatchability.

34. Just Friends

35. 4th Man Out - This movie was basically “a bro/Hangover-style movie, but for the gays.” I absolutely love the intention, but the execution was a little shoddy. One day we’re gonna get a flawless movie that nails what this movie was going for. I hope we remember this movie whenever that day comes.

36. Latter Days - So fucking preachy.

37. GBF - Another bizarre one, but at least this movie gets how wacky it is.

38. Beach Rats

39. Shelter - I’ve noticed a lot of people like this one. To that I say...yikes. Remember that scene from Family Guy where Peter says he doesn’t care for The Godfather? I did not care for Shelter. It insists upon itself (not really, but still).

40. Handsome Devil

41. Esteros - It’s at this point of the list that we shift from “Movies that are the definition of ‘ight’ “ to “These movies are bad. Bad. BAAAAAD.”

42. Monster Pies

43. Were the World Mine - I couldn’t even finish it. Wanna watch a better musical? Go watch Kanarie. Wanna watch a better Shakespeare adaptation? The Lion King is the movie for you, or even fucking She’s the Man.

44. North Sea Texas - So boring. I actually think this one may need a rewatch, because I swear it shouldn’t have been as terrible as it was.

45. Salvation Army - I have no idea what this movie was going for. I understand that it is autobiographical, however...it simultaneously barely has any plot or character developments. This one has shades of Beach Rats, but it’s significantly worse, and I didn’t even like Beach Rats that much.

So that’s it, thanks if you made it down this far. I guess I’ll update the list as I inevitably watch more of these. I would love movie recommendations!

#lgbtcinema #the way he looks #cmbyn #love simon #thanks for reading #thanks profusely to the gif-makers #i couldn't finish maurice...i'm so sorry #half of these are breaking glass or wolfe #argue with yo mama

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ladybugsfanfics · 4 years

Text

Redamancy | Tom Hiddleston

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader

Style: One Shot

WC: 4.3k

Warnings: Angst, so much angst (though with a happy ending), I want to be clear that there is smth going on here that isn’t light and is pretty serious. I don’t want to tag it due to spoilers, but I also feel the need to say so. I’ve tagged the theme in the actual tags as a tw so if you feel like this may apply to you, please check or send me a message and I’ll let you know (if anyone feels i should i add it here, i will do so. just let me know).

Summary: Anonymous requested: “Reader and Tom are dating for years and he's planning on proposing, but on the day he does, Reader says no and break up with him. The poor guy is devasted, and he keeps thinking during months what he did wrong... [request cut due to spoilers]”

A/N: This is some of the hardest shit I’ve ever written. It’s angsty, it’s heartbreaking, but there is a happy ending and I hope you all like this and that your hearts break as much as mine did writing it ^_^

redamancy (n.)

the act of loving the one who loves you; a love returned in full

Tom opens the black box one more time.

On the inside lies a ring. Its silver metal works its way into a perfect circle, though a little before the diamond takes its place, the circle cuts into two lines that snake around each other. One of the snakes is lined with diamonds, but the real eye catcher is the round diamond perched on top.

When he’d picked it out, he’d told the goldsmith he didn’t have a budget (now he didn’t spend that much on it, but he didn’t hold back either). The diamond is a flawless, one carat that he hopes will tell you how much he loves you.

He’s even planned the night down to the second. And it’s all about to start, as soon as you leave out the door.

Tom closes the box again, sighs happily, and holds onto the ache in his lungs. The butterflies have been fluttering around his gut for two weeks, finally it’s settled for another (albeit not better) feeling.

He slips the box into the inner pocket of his jacket and walks out of your shared bedroom. And in the hallway, twirling in front of the mirror, stands you. You’re dressed in a beautiful black dress that hugs your torso and flows into a deep length at your legs―the only reason it doesn’t reach the floor is the pair of high heels you’re wearing.

“You look…” The word gets lost in his throat as you turn around, the dazzling smile on your lips now directed at him. “... absolutely stunning.”

“Thanks, handsome.” You walk the few steps needed to get close to him. “You look absolutely dazzling, yourself.” And Tom isn’t sure he can speak after you press your lips to his.

Maybe he should just skip the whole plan and propose to you now, only so that he can take off that dress and show you how good you make him feel, show you how much he loves you.

But he clears his mind and smiles. “Shall we go, m’lady?” he asks and holds out his arm for you to take.

“We shall, m’lord.” You giggle up at him as you take his arm, and you walk like that to the limousine Tom had ordered for the evening. Something which is a surprise to you and have you look up at him with wide eyes and the biggest smile Tom has ever seen.

He had listened that time you told him you wanted to take one. Why not make the most of it when he’s going to propose anyway?

The driver holds the door open for the two of you. You both thank him as you get in, and a few short moments later, the car is driving and you’re both sitting with a champagne glass each in your hands. You’re leaning on Tom, chin on his shoulder and looking up at him with the most adorable smile he’s ever seen.

He can’t help himself; he presses a kiss to your lips, though when you pull back a little, he doesn’t let you go and captures your lips with his again. Every moment with you, is a moment his world is on fire, and by each moment, his world gets better and better. Tom is never letting you go.

After a half hour drive, the limousine pulls to a stop. The driver is quickly there to open the door and Tom helps you out after he’s gotten out himself. A few stares from the pavement comes your way, but when you don’t seem to notice, Tom lets himself ignore them as well.

(It is the first time you’re really out, despite having been together for exactly three years―the anniversary part was a great excuse to get you dazzled up and out for his plan―but Tom’s always been secretive and you’ve never minded the privacy shared within your home. So going out into the public eye hasn’t been done a lot, but if you don’t mind now that he’s finally going to propose, he doesn’t either.)

“Tom,” you say, lightly hitting him in the chest, as you make your way inside the restaurant. “This is a really expensive restaurant. I know you’re rich and all but… Isn’t it too much?”

“For you, darling, nothing is ever too much.” It sounds as cheesy as it did in his head, but by the smile on your face, he doesn’t care. He presses another kiss to your lips before you stop by the hostess’s stand.

A woman behind it greets you with a big smile, and asks if you’ve reserved or not. Tom smiles at her and says his last name, garnering a bigger smile and a bright ‘follow me’. She brings with her two menus and leads the two of you to the back of the restaurant.

Compared to the front, it’s far more romantic. With candles lit, the light slightly dimmed and a window seating staring out onto the Thames. The night has fallen over London, and the table you get basks in the little moonlight that streams in through the window.

Tom’s heart squeezes when you try to suppress a slight squeal at the sight. He helps you with your chair as you’re about to sit down, and moves for a kiss before he sits down himself.

(He’s catching himself doing that a lot more than he usually does, but seeing as he enjoys it and it seems you do too, he makes a mental note not to stop.)

“We’re only doing dinner and dessert, right? Not an appetizer or more shit that’ll make me feel as if my anniversary present isn’t enough?” Your tone is playful and light, but Tom can hear the slight insecurity behind it.

He shakes his head. “Only dinner and dessert,” he replies. “Only, you can’t choose the dessert. I’ve already chosen one and I can’t have you suddenly changing your mind even though I suppose you would choose it anyway.”

“Now I can’t wait for dessert,” you say, and laugh. “But I bet you’re also choosing the wine, and the dinner and maybe even how I eat?”

You’re smiling, but Tom feels slightly self-conscious about it. He had said it was a surprise, but admittedly, he had probably also been a bit bossy whilst getting you to go along with everything. “You can choose whatever you like. I recommend a wine that goes with your food, though, love.”

“You do? How surprising.”

Tom nods and smiles at the glint in your eyes. God, you’re beautiful.

And that’s how the rest of dinner goes. Tom focuses on all the little aspects of you. The way you laugh; the slight tug at your lips whenever you think you’re being clever; the sparkle in your eyes that draws him in and doesn’t let go; the mesmerizing smile that rips out his heart and swallows it, keeping it to yourself forever.

There isn’t anything about you that makes Tom question your worth, but everything has him second guessing your choice of him. He can’t fathom what he ever did to deserve you.

Something he will show when the dessert comes.

It comes whilst you’re laughing at something he said. A simple brownie with raspberries and strawberries on top, sprinkled with powdered sugar. The dish itself looks simple, as if today is nothing more than an ordinary day.

(And he didn’t do the thing about hiding the ring in the dish. He didn’t dare).

However, the brownie means something. To both of you.

On your very first date, you’d ordered a simple brownie with berries on top and sprinkled with powdered sugar. Just before the dessert comes―and Tom had ordered something else―you’d said that when it came to sweets, you sucked at sharing and that he should never expect to get any if you got your hands on something good. But when it came, and he didn’t mind letting you taste his, you let him taste yours and, as a slip of the tongue, said that that was the first time you’d ever shared food on a date.

Tom had never felt as special as he did that day. The date had ended with a kiss, a sweet kiss that to this day lingered on his lips. But the brownie symbolized the very start of your relationship, and he’d always joked that if he ever were to propose, he’d make a reference back to when you first started dating.

Now, he can see it dawns on you that that’s what today is. Your face goes through a series of emotions; starting from happy at the sight, to confusion, to shock, to a stare at Tom that takes his breath away, and then, your face blanks.

However, Tom has already stood up. He’s making his way down on one knee and he’s pulled the black box out of where it lay in his pocket. He holds it securely between his hands and looks up at you with the most loving expression he knows.

A hand covers your mouth. A tear runs down your face.

“Y/N,” he starts. The nerves can be heard in his voice, already on your name it shakes. “On this day, three years ago, we went out on our first date. I could never have wished for a more perfect night than that night, and yet you give me a more perfect night every night. Every moment I’m with you is the best of my life, and I want nothing more than to share the rest of my life with you.”

He takes a deep breath. His eyes find yours, tears are streaming down your face. In the moment, he isn’t sure whether they’re happy tears or not. But he gathers the rest of his courage, and as the words leave his mouth he opens the black box. “Y/N Y/L/N, will you be my wife? Will you marry me?”

Tom gazes expectantly up at you. He’s been planning this for so long, he’s been waiting to hear a yes for so long. How could you say anything less when, despite the occasional fights, you seem to love him more and more each day?

Only, you’re not saying anything. And if Tom’s not wrong, there’s a slight look of horror on your face.

Tom’s heart shatters into a million pieces as you shake your head. “No,” you whisper, the word barely audible. “No, Tom, I can’t… I can’t.”

“Why?” he asks, and he holds the ring with one hand only, taking your hand in his. You’re shaking, and the tears he couldn’t decipher before he can now see are sad tears.

“I can’t.” You shake your head. “I have to go.”

Before Tom can say anything, you’ve stood up from your seat and are rushing out of the restaurant. Tom falls to his butt on the floor, his heart lost somewhere on the ground and his lungs constricting in on him. He’s not sure he can breathe, he’s not sure he has any ounce of energy left in him to get up.

The only thought swirling around in his mind is the one that will be his downfall.

What did I do wrong?

---

It took two days before the text came. A text that twisted his heart, had his already bloodshot eyes fill with more tears, and his heart crush into a million tiny pieces he was certain he couldn’t ever glue back together.

At least not without you.

I’m sorry, Tom, but I don’t think we should see each other anymore.

The text haunts him every time he looks at it, and he keeps looking at it, hoping it’s a nightmare. But when your best friend comes a few days later with their partner and clears out your belongings, it hits him how real it is.

He tries not to let it show. He doesn’t want them to know how much he’s hurting. But he isn’t sure how well it comes off, not with how his clutching Bobby to his chest and the dog keeps licking away his tears.

Tom knows he’s a mess, and he lets it show when the two friends of yours leave with your things. He lets the tears stream down his cheeks, lets the sobs loose, and clutches Bobby tighter to his chest―but not so tight it hurts the dog.

And that’s how he is for the next few months. He keeps up appearances wherever he’s needed, and he continues to do his job, keeping up the pretence that nothing’s bothering him. But he crashes on his couch whenever he gets home, he cries himself to sleep night after night after night.

During it all, he racks his brain as to why you would leave him. It doesn’t add up, it doesn’t make sense, he can’t seem to figure out the reason. Maybe if you had given him one, it would have been easier to get through it…

However, Tom doesn’t give up. He sends you countless texts, doesn’t care that you leave them all on read. He calls, his heart breaking every time you don’t pick up. Yet, he isn’t sure if he has a heart left breaking after all.

It’s late at night when his phone rings. The snow has laid down on the streets, and the moonlight shines through the window off Tom’s apartment. He reaches for the phone, unsure whether or not he wants to answer.

Until he sees the caller ID.

Y/BFF/N Y/BBF/L/N

His thumb hovers over the green phone icon. He contemplates not answering, contemplates showing them the same treatment as he has gotten from you over the last few months.

But he decides against it. What if something has happened to you?

Tom’s thumb presses the button and he puts the phone to his ear. “Tom Hiddleston,” he says.

“Hi, this is Y/BFF/N. You probably don’t really want to talk to me, but I need you to listen.” Their voice sounds shaky, and Tom’s mind spirals into the worst possible probabilities.

But as they said, Tom doesn’t really want to talk to them. Listen, he will.

He can hear their breath on the other side, and when he doesn’t hang up, it sounds like a relieved sigh. “I didn’t know at first why you and Y/N broke up. I thought it was something different than what it was, but she told me today. I thought you broke up with her by how devastated she was.”

Y/BFF/N takes a deep breath. Tom braces himself for what comes next. He’s almost certain the words will be that he missed his shot; she got hit by a bus, or fell off a bridge. Anything that makes his lungs constrict in on him and shatter the few remnants of his heart.

“She’s got cancer. She’s being treated and things are looking bright, but there’s no saying for sure. She found out a little before your anniversary and didn’t want to tell you just yet because that would make it real. She said no because she thinks you deserve better than someone who might die before the wedding even happens. I don’t think she thought it through, but they say her survival chances are good. I thought you should know.”

Tom takes a little time to catch his breath. He wants to yell, he wants to cry, but most of all, he wants to hold you.

“Where can I find her?” he asks, voice hoarser than he expected.

“She’s at her parent’s. She’s going through it with us, but I know she misses you, and I hope you can be there with her.”

“I will. Thank you for letting me know.”

“Of course.”

With no hesitation, he hangs up the phone. Tom jumps off the couch, packs a little bag with some clothes and some other necessities, and food for Bobby. In less than ten minutes, he’s out of the apartment with Bobby in tow and rushing to his car.

It takes half an hour to drive to your parents, but Tom makes it in twenty minutes by going over the speed limit. He can’t wait to see you, to kiss you, to tell you that he loves you, and to chide you for keeping it hidden from him.

He parks in the driveway and walks out of the car with Bobby. He leaves the bag there, too busy wanting to find you.

As he rings the doorbell, he can feel his heart beating a mile a minute. His head pounds and his hands feel clammy. Tom doesn’t understand why he’s so nervous. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable―or maybe he hasn’t after all?

The door opens, and there you stand.

You look tired. Dark rings under your eyes, red rims around them and only half a smile to spare him. Bobby jumps up at you as he sees you and you crouch down to pet the dog. You kiss the top of his head and let him lick you, his little tail wagging frantically.

“Let me take him.”

Tom didn’t notice your mother coming up behind you, but she pries Bobby’s leash from his hand and takes the dog with her inside. He follows happily after, now showering your mom with love, though less than what he showed you.

But with his hands free, Tom pulls you to him. He presses you tightly against him in a hug, and breathes in the smell of you. He’d missed it. How you always smell fresh, always smelled as if you just showered.

He can feel his shirt getting wet, and pulls you a little away from him. You’re smiling, but the tears keep falling down your face and Tom does his best to wipe them away. The touch has his skin burn, has a tear fall down his own cheek because it makes him realize how much he missed you.

And then he can’t keep himself from it. He captures your lips in his. You sink together, pressing as tightly as you can. Your hands move instantly to wrap around his neck and his circle around your waist to press you close. It feels like he’s on fire. Like you’re a magnet and he can’t stop the pull he feels towards you, he can only go with it. His heart keeps beating in his chest, pounding in his head, drumming in his veins.

All the feelings that he’s missed during the months you were apart, comes rushing back at once, lighting him with adrenaline, with passion, with relief. The pleasure of finally kissing you again has his body loosen up, rest from the tense position it’s been stuck in since you left.

He wants to kiss you forever, never let go.

But you have to step away to breathe, and when you break apart, he presses a kiss to your forehead and drags you back into his embrace. Your head rests on his chest and his fingers run through the soft strands of your hair.

Neither of you say anything. Neither of you move from where you stand. Neither of you care when the snow starts falling, settling in your hair and on your exposed skin.

Neither of you care about anything but staying in each others embrace. Everything else comes second, first priority is to show each other the affection you’ve both been missing.

---

Tom waits until you’re inside and alone in your bedroom to say anything. You’ve latched onto his hand, grip tight and knuckles white. He doesn’t mind, only basks in the closeness.

You sit down on your bed, dragging him to you and clutching his arm tighter to your chest. The smile on your face is a mixture of guilt and relief.

“I’m sorry.” The words are hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Tom smiles. He wipes away the tear that travels down your cheek with his thumb. You lean into his touch and he wraps his arms around you, letting your head fall to his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

He says the words over and over again as he rubs circles on your back. When you pull out of the embrace, he kisses your forehead. “What made you hide it?”

“I… I wasn’t sure how to tell you. And then everything happened all at once. I didn’t want to ruin your career and I didn’t want to say yes when there is a possibility that I might not be here for it.”

“Never say that.” He presses a kiss to your lips. “You cannot ruin anything as long as you’re in my life. We will get through this together, I promise.”

You smile. “If we do, can I say yes?”

Tom nods, a smile growing on his face. He captures your lips in another kiss, and when you part, rests his forehead against yours. “I will never take back my question, but I did leave the ring at home so your finger can’t be jeweled just yet.”

“That was not one of my worries,” you say and let out a quiet laugh. The happiness on your face makes your tired features look a little alive again.

---

Healing takes time.

Healing takes strength.

Healing takes… a lot.

Tom’s exhausted.

Even as he’s with you, helping you work through it and doing his best to be there, he’s also working. His closest know, help, but it pains him not to be there for you everyday.

It helps that you get better. Little by little you quicken, you smile more, you find hope. And you start to plan a wedding.

Which is what Tom finds you doing when he comes home after a month away―it pained him. You’re lying on the couch in the living room, magazine in your lap and a pen between your teeth. One hand rests at the magazine’s spine, whilst the other switches the page.

You don’t notice him at first, only when he coughs to gain your attention do you spare a glance his way. And as you see him, a light shines on your face and you jump from the couch. In his embrace, you hide your head in the crook of his neck and your arms snake around him tighter than ever before.

“You have been gone way too long,” you whisper. “I’ve missed you.”

Tom places a kiss where your shoulder peeks up from your top. “I’ve missed you too, love. How are you?”

You pull back from him and press a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m great. The doctor says there is a good chance for a full recovery. I might actually beat this.”

“Darling, that’s fantastic.” Tom cups your cheek. “But I have never doubted it. You are the strongest person I know, and I couldn’t bear it if you weren’t here with me.”

“No, of course not. You can’t doubt it because you wouldn’t be able to live without me, baby.” You scrunch your nose up at him. “You’d be totally lost without me.”

Tom laughs. He captures your lips in another kiss. A hungrier and more demanding one, but he doesn’t push it. He relishes in the smile that forms within the kiss, in the fluttery feeling deep in his gut, and in the way his heart squeezes being close to you.

“Now, you’ve started wedding planning?” he asks as he breaks the kiss.

You nod excitedly and turn to get back to your magazine. “Okay, so I’ve been doing some thinking, and I don’t want anything really big. Especially with everything going on, but I thought we’d invest something in it, anyways.”

There are words hanging from your lips, unspoken. The glee in your eyes carefully hide away the fear that lurks inside, but Tom knows you, has known you for so long, that you can’t hide it.

But he also knows not to comment. So he nods, and he smiles and he listens to everything you have to say, wanting this to be the wedding of your dreams. He doesn’t care if it becomes expensive or cheap, or if it doesn’t live up to a fantasy he once had. He couldn’t care even if he so wanted to, because all that matters to him, is that he gets to marry you.

---

It’s a month before the wedding when you get the all clear; you’re cancer free. The joy radiates off of you, and Tom couldn’t be happier. It’s the best wedding present he could wish for.

In that month, time flies by faster than he can comprehend. Everything needs to be done before the wedding, but most of all, you celebrate life.

And when the wedding comes, he doesn’t really focus on anything but the fact that he's married to you. He got the love of his life, he got to marry you, and you’re cancer free. There’s nothing to worry about.

Well, there’s the slight thing about having the kids talk (he wants at least one), especially after you’d come home after being at the doctors and gotten the news that you couldn’t have children anymore. You’d broken down in his arms, cried your heart out, and he’d tried to comfort you but he knew how much it meant. And he’d kept from bringing it up again.

Until a month after the wedding, and your honeymoon was over. He tries to step carefully around the subject, unsure how you’ll react to his words.

“Darling,” he asks.

You look up at him, a small smile placed on your lips. “What’s up?”

“I have been thinking lately.” He takes a deep breath. “About kids.”

The smile on your face grows bigger. “Thank God,” you say, “because I have, too. I’ve been looking into some adoption agencies, but I didn’t want to rush things and I wanted a clear view on some before I proposed the idea to you.”

Tom smile grows wide and he moves closer to you, and captures your lips in a kiss. “So, it’s settled. We’re going to try and adopt?”

And you nod and smile so big Tom’s heart skips a beat.

God, he’s the luckiest man in the world.

permanent tags: @devilbat @adefectivedetective @gamillian @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @heartislubbingdubbing @wiczer @chillcan @geeksareunique @fandom-imagines1

tom tags: @inlovewith3 @bookgirlunicorn @mindlesschicca @justawriterinprogress @wolfsmom1 @loser-alert @satanskatze @timetravelingsociopathicwalker

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #real people fanfic #real people fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #tom hiddleston x you #angst #angst with a happy ending #tw cancer #cancer #mentions of cancer #tom hiddleston angst

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botan-shirabuki · 4 years

Text

Summer of Smut Writing Challenge: Exposure

Pairing: SLBP Sanada Yukimura x MC (OC)

Theme: Day 2 - Applying Sunscreen

Summary: Smut, but it’s propaganda from the Skin Cancer Foundation and the person who commissioned it thinks Yukimura is a bottom.

Rating: NC-17/Explicit (for heavy petting, handjobs, diet femdom, and dirty talk)

Word Count: 4.3k

Notes: My second entry into @voltage-vixen ‘s writing challenge! Day 2 came and went, but I couldn’t not post this one! I honestly had no shot at making it, but I figured it counts as banging on the beach anyway. shhhhhh I know it’s past midnight

I sincerely thought this would be way shorter, but my writing style had different plans. Either way, I had a BUH-LAST writing this and I hope you enjoy it too!

Again, I wrote this with my own MC Botan. But if your MC vibes with this too then that’s wonderful!

Ao3: here

"Oi, Botan!"

With a start, her eyes opened. The sound of crashing waves accompanying Yukimura's voice.

"Damn, I must have fallen asleep," she mumbled to herself as she sat up on her towel. She had decided to tag along with him for his morning workout on the beach. Apparently, sand was a great surface for resistance training. She didn't care much for that, honestly. Her plan was to workout by getting a decent swim in before the beach got too crowded. Unfortunately, the waves had been too choppy that morning to risk swimming in, so she decided to lay on her towel and catch up on some reading. Somewhere along the way, she fell asleep with her magazine on her chest. Luckily for her, her phone said it was only 9 in the morning, so the sun wasn't at full blast. She slowly sat up, noting how hot her skin felt before she turned to her husband. "How's that sand treating you?"

He was jogging towards her thoroughly drenched in sweat and flushed. Despite his appearance, which would normally be paired with exhaustion, he had a huge satisfied grin on his face. "It's great! I could run so much further. I wish we had some to run in at home." He slowed down once he made it to their towels and briskly sat down on the towel next to her. "I love it here, it's so quiet. I can only imagine what it was like for you growing up here."

"Mmhmm," she nodded along as he started talking; About how much he liked her hometown, about the benefits of sand training, but her attention kept getting drawn to the beads of sweat pooling on and trickling down his skin. He didn't seem to notice her eyes on his glistening collarbone though. However, as much as she loved ogling him, Botan's nurturing instincts took over and she reached for her bag where she had kept a smaller towel and a cold water bottle waiting for him.

"Ah, thanks!" he said when she handed them to him. He put them in his lap and peeled his sweat soaked shirt off before he started to towel down.

Okay, back to ogling.

Botan found herself heating up even further as she watched him wipe himself down. She couldn't look away from the way his soft skin pulled over taut muscles. As she watched him, she noticed the blurred line near across his back where he had started to turn a light shade of pink. An alarm bell went off in her head, but before she could voice her concern, a light bulb went off too, putting the beginnings of a mischievous smirk at the corner of her mouth.

"Yukimura," she began in a worried tone, "how long has it been since you applied sunscreen?"

He stopped drinking his water so he could think. "Hmm, I put some in when we got out here so...An hour ago?"

"Well, you know," she leaned in towards him, nothing too suggestive, "You're supposed to reapply sunscreen every two hours. And immediately after excessive sweating."

Yukimura blinked at her, "But it's only been an hour."

Botan blinked back, "But the last part."

There was a pause as he thought about it, "Oh...right," he looked down in the sand like he was ashamed. So cute.

Botan laughed a little as she got up on her knees, "And even then, you probably wiped it all off your face just now," she swept aside a damp lock of hair that was clinging to His forehead. Her gentle touch caused him to blush. Now was her chance, "Here, I'll help you put it on."

"W-What? You don't have to do that," he turned his head towards her, but quickly turned away when his eyes accidentally made contact with her backside as she went to dig through her bag.

"No, don't worry about it," she pulled out a large bottle of sunscreen along with a smaller tube. "Your arms are probably all worn out from your workout, it's the least I can do."

"But....the....well, um, okay," He couldn't really protest at that point because she had already squeezed a coin-sized amount of sunscreen into her hand from the small tube.

She kept a warm smile on her face as she scooted closer to his side, "Here, I'll just start with your face." She applied small dollops of the white cream to his forehead, cheeks, nose, and chin. She almost cracked up at the way his eyes darted everywhere and anywhere except down in the hopes of avoiding a glance at her chest. He was lucky she had decided against straddling his lap, honestly. He did close them once she started to rub it into his skin, which made him relax. She gently massaged it in until the purple tint it left was no longer visible. "Oh, almost forgot your neck," she murmured to herself more than anyone.

"Mm, okay," he responded. His eyes didn't open when she reopened the bottle. This time, she rubbed it between her hands before carefully rubbing it on his chin and neck. He looked so calm and serene then, the sun hitting his face from the east. Once she had finished, she found herself sliding her palms up either side of his neck until she was holding his head by his jaws.

His baby blue eyes opened, curious to why she stopped. "Botan?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I just wanted to get a good look at you." her voice was so gentle, but her eyes could have eaten him alive.

"Oh..." he started to stammer, but decided to just look away to the side.

Her fingers that had been in his hair pinched together and tugged. "Eyes on me, Yukimura."

Her voice was still just as gentle, but he knew to listen when she spoke like that. He swallowed his nerves and looked right into her dark eyes. He could feel his heart rate climbing steadily again as he did so.

Slowly, Botan lowered her head to his so she could plant a single soft kiss, lips on plush lips. She heard his breath hitch as she pulled away, and she saw that his cheeks were back pink again. His eyes were back on her though, waiting for her next move.

"Lay down on your back, alright?" she murmured, still close enough to his face so that he could hear her.

"Alright..." he nodded, reluctantly leaning back so he could reposition himself accordingly.

After squeezing a generous portion from the larger bottle, Botan began to massage the sunscreen over his broad shoulders and the back of his neck. Luckily for her, this sunscreen took a little more effort to rub all the way in, so she had extra time to enjoy how solid he was. Every once in a while, she would purposefully let her fingertips press into a muscle so she could gauge how tight it was. Each time she did, he would let out a little pleased grunt, which sent an instant jolt of intrigue to her core. This was already going so well.

With the next large blob, she took care of his back, rubbing up and down along the expanse of it, her thumbs meeting in the dip above his spine.

"Ack! Um, I mean..." he jumped when her hands made it to his lower back. She tutted to herself, as she hadn't even dipped below the waistband of his trunks like she wanted to. She went extra slow, liking the way he started to squirm and wriggle beneath her touch.

"How about I get the back of your thighs too? Or would you rather do that yourself?"

"Um, I can get that myself."

"Alright then, can you turn over?"

".......Actually, can you get the back of my thighs?"

Botan had to stop herself from laughing out loud. "I mean, I can but I'll still want you to turn over after that."

She could see the deep flush on the tip of his ear. "Just...you know what, I'll, um...do the rest myself."

Botan feigned being upset, "Aww," she cooed, leaning up against his back, so that her chest pressed against him while she spoke in his ear. "Are you sure you can? I'd hate for you to miss a spot, and I'm nothing if not thorough."

He tensed up beneath her, "Gah! Fine! Just don't put those-- those--" they both knew he couldn't say it, and they both knew he fucking loved how they felt. Which is why when he finally turned over, she wasn't at all surprised to see him straining out of his shorts. Seeing him already hard made her head swell up with a totally healthy combination of pride and lust, but she kept the smile on her face even though Yukimura was back to blushing and looking away from her.

"I'll start with your arms, okay?" she said in her saccharine sweet voice as if she had never been so brazen in the first place.

Yukimura closed his eyes and nodded wordlessly. It looked as if he was desperately trying to focus on quelling his arousal. She decided to spare him just a little by making quick work of his arms. She had plenty of chances to casually grope those whenever she wanted anyways. Although she did enjoy the way his eyebrows furrowed when her thumbs massaged at his biceps.

His legs were a similar situation, at least for his shins. As she worked her way up past his knees, she noticed that his thighs were trembling from how tightly he was clenching them. Surely enough, his thighs were so tight she could barely squeeze them when she ran her hands over them.

"You're going to pull something if you stay this tight, you know," she couldn't help but tease him.

"I-I'll be just fine--!!" he choked on his words when her thumbs rubbed at the comparatively softer skin of his inner thighs right where his trunks ended. The way the bulge in them twitched was absolutely unmistakable.

"Don't even worry about that, I'm almost done," she assured him, but they both knew good and well what the last area she needed to cover was.

Botan took her time squeezing out enough sunscreen for his torso. She watched the way his fists were clenched tight as he attempted to steel himself for her touch. This was exactly what she had been waiting for and she wanted the savor moment. She methodically rubbed her hands together before placing them flat on his stomach. His abs clenched beneath her, sending a rush through both of them. She focused on the way his skin and muscles rippled beneath her hands as she rubbed up and down his abdomen until her mouth was watering. She specifically watched the way he twitched as she followed suit on his sides. She had to swallow when he grunted because of her fingers circling around his Apollo's belt.

With what remained, she slid her hands up and over his chest. There wasn't much on her hands by then, but she was eager to feel his nipples harden beneath her palms. His heart was racing as she groped and squeezed at his pecs until she ran out of product. She had looked away to get one last squeeze when he spoke up again.

"Botan, I-- Guh!" he choked on his spit and started having a coughing fit.

She was genuinely worried now, "Are you okay?"

"I'm--" cough, cough, "It's--" hack, hack, "Your--"

She quickly had him sit up and passed him his water bottle. Once his coughing settled, she asked him, "What was it you were about to say?"

His eyes were looking to the side so intensely it must have hurt. "Your....your--"

"Look at me."

He listened, but he was now staring at her face so intensely His gaze could have burned a hole in her forehead. "Y-Your, your top is..."

Botan looked down, sure enough, while she was bent over him, she had begun to spill out of her bikini top. "Ah! Thanks." She quickly adjusted herself, looking around to see if they were still alone on the beach. To their left lone lifeguard was posted up far enough away that she could really only tell they were a lifeguard by them being up in the chair and a couple had walked past them to their right but hadn't paid them any attention.

If there was ever a time to strike, it was now.

"Yukimura," she started once she finished adjusting, "please tell me what you need."

"Huh?!" he looked like a deer in headlights when she straddled his lap. "What are you doing?!" His voice was a scandalized whisper.

She squeezed the sunscreen in her hand and slowly began to spread it across her palms as she spoke, "I can tell there's something bothering you, and I believe we're at our best when we're honest with each other," she placed her hands on his chest and pushed him so he was on his back again. "Don't you agree?"

"I--" Yukimura closed his eyes and hissed through his teeth when she gave his chest a deliberate and forceful squeeze before she started rubbing again. Despite how blatantly aroused he was, his hands clenched at the towel by his sides.

"C'mon, tell me," she encouraged him. She even positioned herself so that she was barely brushing against his erection to coax the words out of him. "I can't help you if I don't know what's going on in your mind."

When his eyes opened again, they were brimming with lust, exactly what she wanted to see. "I need to touch you," he breathed, finally not looking away. "I need to touch you so bad I don't know how long I can take it!"

Botan's hands made it up to his shoulders. As she gripped them, she lowered her face towards his. He closed his eyes in anticipation. Yukimura knew not to touch her until she said so when they got like this. The fact that he stayed true to that rule even when he was as worked up as this made her so very proud.

"Well you're in luck," she purred once their noses brushed against each other. Her tone instantly changed to an innocent and upbeat one when she sat up and handed him the bottle. "Because it's my turn now!"

"Oh?" After the haze he was in faded a little, he sat up and got onto his knees. "Where do you want me to start?"

She was already on her stomach next to him with her hair swept to the side, "Do me exactly the way I did you."

"O-okay," he took a deep breath as he prepared his hands with sunscreen, "So you want me to start on your back?" His voice was tense with restraint as he waited for further instruction.

"Yes, that would be perfect," she smiled at him, giving him the say so.

His hands on her were clumsy and rough. It was as if he was fighting his awkwardness about touching her, his desire to please her, and his need to take things further all at once in an underground cage match. She could hear his labored breathing and him muttering to himself to stay focused. Unintentionally, she let out a small gasp when he squeezed too hard around her lower back.

"Sorry...I know you're sensitive there," he was truly apologetic and she knew he meant it.

"It's nothing, just keep going."

"It's just..." he began as he started on her calves, "you're just so soft..." he worked his way up her legs until he was halfway up the back of her thighs. Sensing his hesitation, she reached back and swatted at his thigh.

"I'll need you to cover everything." her voice was still sweet, but there was a stern undertone to her words, "I'd be pretty upset if that area in particular got burned."

"Botan..." he paused, but his hands didn't leave her until he finally took more from the bottle. Slowly, his hands slid up until they finally left a trail of white over her butt.

"Mmm, good job," Botan moaned as his hands worked back downwards. "Make sure you rub it in properly too, I don't want a whitecast either."

"Yes, Botan," he sounded like he was in a trance by then. In that same state, he covered her arms and the front of her legs once she turned over. She stopped him once he had his hands on her thighs.

"You know, Yukimura, you've done a pretty good job so far," she held herself up on her elbows, "I ought to reward you for being so diligent."

"What? Now?" he was surprised that she even brought rewards up now. In the morning. In public. He gasped when she reached out to pull at the drawstring on his swim trunks. "Are you sure?"

"I mean, unless you want to walk around with that going on," she directly gestured to his tent, "then we better take care of it while no one else is around."

He looked around to confirm what she said before leaning in as if he was suddenly trying to hide something. "What do you want me to do....?"

Botan grinned at his compliance, "I need you to finish covering me first."

Eager to see what she had in store for him, he started to rub her legs again. She started moaning again when his hands were on the uppermost area of her thighs, which made him squeeze them harder.

"Get on top of me," she tugged at his loosened waistband, "just like I did." She smiled once she felt his weight on her hips. "And get the sunscreen."

He wasn't sure why she specifically told him to get some sunscreen until he noticed her reaching into her bag for yet another small bottle. She squirted a small amount into her right hand before rubbing it across her palm with her fingers. He was about to ask her what it was when she deliberately put it in his pants and it made direct contact with his throbbing erection. He yelped out loud when her fingers cinched tightly around the base.

"Keep rubbing me and I'll keep rubbing you." The way she was able to look so sweet and gentle while she said such things was truly beyond him, but he was close to his limit as far as being teased was concerned, so he quickly put his hands on the soft curves of her stomach.

He let out a choked breath as his hands slid up towards her rib cage, as hers slid slowly up his shaft, her thumb rubbing the underside of the tip once it made it there. Curiously, she mirrored his movement, slowly sliding back down to the base as his hands slid down towards her bikini line.

"Ahh, Botan..." he caught himself moaning as they continued, "Could you please go faster?"

After humming for a moment, she replied, "I'll give what I get."

And so he kept rubbing the sunscreen into her stomach, his pace slowly picking up and making hers do the same in return. After one particularly embarrassing moan from him, Botan kept her fist around the tip of his dick and started to rub at the slit with her thumb until it oozed precum.

"I love feeling your hands all over me," she moaned, catching his eyes. "But there's one spot you haven't gotten yet, and that's where I want to feel them the most."

"Ahhhh, b-but the same way?" he asked, referring to how she shamelessly groped him.

She nodded, gesturing for him to get one last dose of sunscreen. "You're going to need a lot."

One final generous portion was on his hands when he placed them on her shoulders. His breath caught again when he rubbed across her collarbone because her strokes quickened a considerable amount. Her wrists started to expertly flock in sync with her strokes once his palms found the tops of her breasts beneath the straps of her bikini.

"Botan, I'm close...!" She could already tell because he was getting to be a little loud, but she put her free hand over his to reassure him.

"Do it then. Touch me, and I'll let you cum."

That word alone could have done it to him if she hadn't tightened her grip around the base in anticipation. He took another shaky breath before he let his hands slide into the cups of her top.

"Mmm, yes, perfect," she groaned out once his hands finally grasped at her chest. "Ah, your hands feel perfect, keep rubbing them."

Yukimura was going through a sensory overload. Her breasts felt amazing. Her soft skin even more slippery beneath the sunscreen. And as he rubbed it in, the way they glistened in the sun reminded him of glaze on fresh donuts. At the same time, her hand stroking him was relentless. She had even used her other hand to pull his head down towards her so she could whisper in his ear.

"You did such a good job." Her ministrations were now focused mainly towards his tip. "Maybe tonight I'll let you have at me until neither of us can take it anymore."

His brain was all but shut off at this point, "Ahhh, yes, please..."

"Ooh, if we weren't here on the beach, I'd let you have me right now. Would you like that?"

"Mmph," his replies had been reduced to nonverbal moans and grunts by then, but the way he groped at her breasts until they were falling out of her top again indicated his positive answer.

"But we couldn't do that here, no," she licked at the shell of his ear, making a shiver run through him, "because if we did, you'd totally give us away when I'd make you scream out like you always do."

"You're so-- ahh! I can't hold it anymore!" he grunted out as her thumb quickly swept up and down the sensitive underside of his dick and her fingers did the same around the head. He came in multiple hot spurts that she felt oozing through her fingers. She kept at it and claimed his mouth in a searing kiss so that his cries of pleasure would be hers to hear alone. Her hand at the back of his neck wove into his still damp hair as she held him close. They stayed like that, kissing and still gently rubbing each other until a certain familiar voice called them back to reality.

"Try playing with his ass next time."

"Wha--?!" Yukimura jumped up off of her in an instant. There stood Saizo, holding a bag and a beach chair, smiling and apparently unbothered by what he had just witnessed. "How long have you been standing there?!"

Saizo merely shrugged, "Who's to say?"

"This isn't what it-- We were--! I need to go clear my head!" Beet red, Yukimura sprinted off until he was deep in the water and dove under a wave head first.

Saizo chuckled to himself as he set his chair up. "Productive morning, huh?"

With a wistful sigh, Botan sat up and adjusted her top accordingly before she wiped her hands off on the discarded sweat towel. "For the most part, yeah. He's still pretty jumpy though."

"Some things never change," Saizo sat beneath their umbrella. When they looked out into the surf, they saw Yukimura was now wading alone, looking out to the sea. Further down to the right, Little Sasuke and his dad were playing catch and more people were beginning to populate the beach.

"I should go check on him," Botan gave Saizo an apologetic smile, though she knew he probably didn't need it. "Will you watch our stuff or me?"

Saizo nodded wordlessly before he began to write in some kind of notebook. With that being all the communication she'd probably get, she made her way out into the water.

"How are you feeling?" she asked once she was standing next to Yukimura amongst the waves.

"I'm alright," he sounded fine, but there was a certain distance in his eyes.

"Was all of that okay for you?" she placed a gentle hand on his back. "If it wasn't, then I totally understand. I probably shouldn't have taken it so--"

He shook his head so hard a few droplets of water got in her mouth making her stop. "No, it was....it was great, actually."

Botan's eyebrows raised in joy, "It was?"

"Yeah, I think it was something to do with you taking care of me after a workout....and then," the sun was glistening against his pink cheeks, "I you felt so good...and you smelled so good...and everything you said made me not care that we were out here." Even though he was still blushing, he looked towards her with a smile, "You shouldn't worry so much, you know. If I didn't like what you were doing, I would have stopped you like we practiced."

Botan felt like her heart could have burst at the sight of that face. She leaned on his shoulder, linking her hand with his. "You're right. I'm glad you enjoyed it as much as I did."

They stayed like that, swaying along with the calmed down waves before Botan lifted her head to whisper in his ear.

"Besides, you owe me an orgasm now."

Yukimura tensed up at first but smiled back at her, "I guess I do."

She left his side and walked further out into the water. "Luckily for us, we'll need to reapply after we're finished swimming anyway!" she said before diving underneath an incoming wave.

Yukimura followed after her with a grin. They ended up being too tired to stay on the beach for much longer, but that night, he paid her back in full and then some.

#slbp fanfic #summer of smut #summer of smut writing challenge #slbp yukimura #my writing #art coming soon I've learned my limits OTL #MC: Botan

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