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echo-of-sounds · 3 years

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lazy start, intense finish (pt.2 in the 'your first creampie' series)

-Aizawa x f!reader-

smut drabble of aizawa giving you your first creampie

I’m posting this using my phone’s hotspot because I just really wanted to get this out today. Nothing’s really loading. I picked a gif at random. If the format is a little wonky, I apologize. I’ll fix it later.

Warnings: nothing serious, just a little deepthroating/gagging

At the commercial break, you lowered the volume for Shouta sleeping on your stomach. He sighed and nuzzled into you. His hands were burrowed inside your sweatshirt for warmth, resting on your sides. Not that he needed the extra warmth. His body was nothing but a radiator, keeping yours pleasantly cozy in the cool room.

He remained motionless for another thirty minutes until his chest rumbled a swear.

“You alright?”

He groaned, turning his head. Through the thick, black mess, you saw his eyes straining at the Tv. At least they seemed less red than an hour and a half ago. Hair stuck to his mouth. You gently brushed the strands out of his face, carefully combing through them.

A low hum sounded at your grooming. Your fingers graced behind his ear, down his jaw, skimming the defined bone and bristles. It’s grown a little longer than usual, shading in the sparse five o’clock with attractive, full stubble.

He grumbled in a thick voice, “I need to shave it soon.”

“I like it like this.”

“It’s annoying like this.” He shifted on top of you, removing his hands from your sweatshirt. You moved too, bending your left leg, wedged amid him and the couch’s back, to relieve your stiff knee. He faced your thigh and pressed his lips to it. The peck formed into a long kiss, dragging the thin skin into his mouth.

The heated weight between your legs allowed you to lazily hump, working up wetness, not from his mouth. His lower chest rocked with you. Fingertips depressed into your thigh. Hair mingled around your playing fingers, keeping you coupled as he sucked, stressing the skin with teeth and lips.

You sighed for him. He didn’t budge. You wiggled, cooing, “Shouta, come here.”

Your voice corralled him; he lifted, crawled up to your mouth. Heft settled on top, happily trapping you for a kiss. Swelling swayed against you, encouraging your hips to return the favor. His tongue crudely sunk into your mouth. It drew moans and heavy breaths from both of you, hastening your grinding.

The kisses trailed to your jaw, then neck once you opened it, where his teeth decided to taste. You fondled him through his sweatpants. The material didn’t stifle his girth and heat. And your groping spurred his swaying into thrusting, obviously wanting something to thrust into.

You were about to speak when he bit your neck, shaping your words into a gasp. His jaw didn’t release, very clearly set on leaving you swollen. You squeezed his cock. That only made his hips jerk. You squeezed his sleeve next, panting, “Let’s go- Fuck. Let’s go to bed.”

Shouta heaved himself and you up. The cuddly start to your night-in quickly disappeared as he muscled you to the bedroom. His tongue left your mouth once when he slipped his shirt off. Your palms flushed over his abdomen, feeling up the grooves and hair, smoothing along his pecs, kindling from his radiator of a chest.

“God, you’re so fucking hot.”

“Then suck me off,” he gruffed, gripping your hair to keep your mouth against his for an airless ten seconds before shoving you to the bed. He dropped his pants and boxers, then joined. But he laid beside you, waiting for you to enact what he said.

And you did. Ready and willing, you hopped between his legs, kissing his erection. Veins in his foreskin slicked with your tongue, from his raphe to his frenulum. The little ridge of skin roused him, physically and audibly. A blush tainted his cheeks. Gorgeous sighs charmed your ears. You lapped slowly, softly, and sweetly at the reactive zone, soaking up his sounds, also soaking your panties.

“You look so handsome right now,” you praised. “Not that you don’t look handsome other times.”

Holding him steady, you pressed a lewd kiss to his head, and you couldn’t help but nip his corona. Then you took him in your mouth, quickly sinking, gradually rising, lightly dragging your teeth along him.

His head dropped to the pillows. Black hair frayed out, exposing pale collarbones and marred skin. His abs expanded in lengthy, indulged breaths. As your fingers trailed up the muscles, he snagged your hair, forcing you lower. Another hand joined. Hips snapped up. Each loud, deep prod choked you. Tears fell when he held you down, flattening your nose into his hair, stationing his dick thick and solid in your throat.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

Saliva dribbled. Heat pooled in your neck. A crude gag came with his grinding, making him yank you off. Dark eyes watched spit seep past your lips, drooling to him. They kept yours in focus, his head tapping your lips. “Clean it.”

You nursed on him again, sucking up all his precum and your spit. After a gentle thumb wiped the tears away, his palm rested on your cheek, calmly guiding your head. You hummed.

The switch from dominant to mellow wasn’t new, but it always sparked an affectionate glow in your stomach. The glare, from arousal, not anger, was always pleasing. And the intensity, you’ve seen many a time. Yet something about the tilt of his eyebrows and the pink of his ears goaded an unfamiliar experience, a new need.

Wetly, lust-filled, you spoke around his glans, tasting the salt you wanted to feel inside, “Cum in me.”

“What?”

“Cum in me.” You climbed up, parked on his waist, and removed your sweatshirt. You cupped his cheeks, kissing him with all the potency this need inflamed. “I’m on birth control. It’ll be okay. I want to feel what it’s like.”

“No one’s ever cum in you?”

You stroked his jaw. “No. It’s never come up. I want it to be with you.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” you whined before kissing him, smiling at the tongue muscling in.

Rough fingers coasted down your back and into your underwear. They kneaded your ass, spreading and pressing you while you moved with his hands, lightly riding his naked chest. The foreplay was becoming a bit too much, evident in the wet material pressing between you.

The fingers skimmed to your front and easily slipped in. “You’re this wet just from thinking about-”

“Yes,” you gasped, appreciating how his palm graded your clit. You stilled his wrist to grind down. “Sho, I’m gonna- Fuck.”

“How am I supposed to cum in you if you get worn out before I’m even inside you?” His stupid, rugged, lovely smirk taunted you.

Before you could respond, you were whipped to the mattress and your panties were tugged off. Shouta nestled between your thighs, immersing himself balls deep without any pushback or preparation. Knowing how this was going to end livened your noises and heightened your skin. Coarse hair, fevered skin, sultry breaths, digging fingers, lips, teeth, nails; all fueled the fire.

With a bite to your already bitten-up neck, the thrusts started solid. His head brushed straight into your front wall over and over and over again. Your nails made a home in his back, scratching, thanking him for his beautiful dick.

Shouta pushed up to his hands, increasing the strength behind the thrusts. You grasped at his biceps and rose, needing his mouth. You got what you wanted; sloppy, saliva, tongue-filled kisses and deep thrusts to curl your toes. Your eyes fluttered closed and head lolled back. Refusing to break, the kiss followed with his added grunts, amorous sounds he barely shared.

You tried speaking, voicing how amazing he always made you feel, your love, close you were, how so fucking high you felt. But nothing escaped your connected mouths except saliva. Instead, you stroked your clit. The width inside was leading you straight to orgasm.

Yet, rather fiercely, your hand was stopped.

“Sho, I-”

“Tonight, you cum from me,” he growled in your ear. He hooked both your knees, leaned forward, and continued his unabashed rutting, flattening you to the bed, completely caging you under him and the weight bearing down and into you.

He withdrew till only his head remained then bucked, slapping his balls against you, using the bed’s bounce to repeat repeatedly, jarring your hips and legs. His thrusts reached your depths. Pleasure drowned any twinge of pain out. You weakly clawed at his shoulder blades, losing energy.

“Cum.”

You whined his name.

“Now.” Teeth, once again, found your sore neck. Hair flared over your face, lending more building heat. “Cum, now.”

Arousal dripped from the disgustingly vulgar sounds between you. Your muscles couldn’t straighten under his control. You fussed and pawed.

“Fucking cum,” Sho gnarled. The guttural demand rolled your head back, driving home what he wanted, clenching muscles and limbs around him. Water formed from squeezing your eyes too hard. Skin gave under your nails.

All the joyous bliss almost turned painful with his nonstop thrusting. Because of the position, your legs couldn’t wrap his waist. But they still tried, needing him to stay inside. You felt down his sides and grappled at the sweat-coated skin. “Shouta, please- Fuck! Please.”

“I’m fucking-” His own huffing cut him off, struggling to even out. Thick groans melted in your ear. His thighs, while railroading through, trembled, humping, seeking.

“Cum in me. I want it.”

The thrust slowed, but the weight behind them didn’t lessen. He pressed into your neck.

“God, Sho, just cum in me.”

Each ball slap lingered longer and longer.

“Please,” you all but pleaded.

Swearing and growling your name, he sunk one last time, grinding against you, trying to push just a little deeper as you finally felt cum inside. It was new, different, and so, so warm. Hearty groans rumbled his chest. He dropped your legs, giving you the chance to wrap around him, embracing tight, and refusing to let him pull out.

Shouta’s labored breathing gradually calmed. Though it didn’t ease the heat of your bodies. And neither of you spoke, choosing to just lay and experience the feeling together.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #aizawa smut #aizawa imagine #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha smut #bnha

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golden-pickaxe · 3 years

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Coffee (Part 5)

Fandom: Vikings

Paring: Ivar x Reader

Type: Modern AU, Office AU

Wordcount: 3619

Warnings: reader drinks wine casually

[Coffee - All Parts Here]

A/N: Here is part 5!

Tagged: @youbloodymadgenius @punkrocknpearls @mootiemoose @istorkyou @dini73 @heavenly1927 @hashimily @peakywitch

Summary: You are a graduate student at the University of Oslo, and have applied for a job as a personal assistant at the Lothbrok Corporation, without really knowing much of the position advertised. When it turns out you are going to work for the (in)famous Ivar Lothbrok, your whole life is turned up-side-down.

With Ivar just wearing a t-shirt, instead of his usual well-cut suits, you could very clearly see the strong muscles in his arms, as you watched him pushing his wheelchair out of the pedestrian zone, towards the street. You had to swallow at the sight, hating yourself for the effect this man had on you.

You walked along side him, finally realising what you had done. Just like a year ago, when the coin had dropped that you had really applied at the Lothbrok Corporation, it now dropped that you had just accepted his invitation to come to his home and let him cook for you. Him, one of the most influential businessmen of Norway. With his own fucking Wikipedia site.

Your heart was pounding rapidly in your chest at the thought, and you bit your lower lip, not quite knowing what this whole thing would mean now. And if it would change anything between you. You hoped not, but in the same way, you did hope.

Getting your private life mixed up with your job probably was not a good idea. On the other hand, this whole situation kind of freaked you out, but in a good way. It was exciting.

You and Ivar had reached the street, next to the national gallery, where a few minutes later the taxi arrived. Personally, you would never get a taxi in Oslo, as it was just insanely expensive, but with a lot of public transport, such as the tram you had taken to get here, not entirely being accessible to someone in a wheelchair, you could understand why Ivar had called it.

Ivar maneuverered himself into one of the back seats, while the driver put his chair into the trunk of the car. You felt Ivar’s blue eyes watching you, as you rounded the vehicle to get into at the other side.

Even though he always successfully overplayed it, you saw that he was a bit self-conscious about his legs, often cursing them underneath his breath when they once again got into his way. He could move them a little bit, and also seemed to have some feeling in them, was even able to stand up for a few moments, if he could support himself with his arms. But in general, they did not really seem to be working.

In the office, Ivar hated to use his wheelchair, often just dragging himself from his desk to his sofa, his immense upper body strength enabling him to pull himself up with not much of an issue.

Now, sitting next to you in the taxi on the way to his apartment, he readjusted his legs a bit with tight lips, appearing a bit nervous once more. You still could not quite wrap your head around what was happening right now, it all felt a bit like a dream to you. Just so, you managed to resist the urge to pinch yourself.

Your boss, your grumpy boss, the infamous Ivar Lothbrok had just casually invited you to go out for coffee with him, had questioned you about almost every aspect of your life, paid for your drink, and now took you to his home to cook for you. It almost sounded like a very bad rom-com, like a romance story some bored, lonely woman would think up. Not that you expected it to end that way, of course. Even if you honestly wished it would.

Until now, even if you sometimes chatted on business trips, your relationship had been purely professional, and you had only been over to his flat once, when you had brought him a set of suits to his home, when there had been issues with his dry cleaner. It had not really surprised you, finding out that he also lived in Majorstuen, actually not very far from you, although it had been a stress factor for you. Of course, he did not live in one of the old buildings, like you did, with paper thin walls, no elevator and wonky doors, no. He lived on the top floor of one of those new, fancy apartment buildings, costing a few ten-million krona, overlooking Frognerparken.

When you had brought the suits up to his apartment, you had also met a famous Norwegian actor in the lift, so it was clear what kind of people occupied the other flats of the building. You had never been inside his home, had only delivered his suits to his door, but even the entrance and the lift had been very fancy and expensive looking. Admittedly, you had taken a stupid selfie in the mirror of the lift and posted it to Instagram.

As Aker Brygge was, as stated, not far from Majorstuen, the drive was quite short, and the few minutes of silence were only broken by far too relaxing music coming out of the car radio. The taxi stopped in front of the apartment building Ivar lived in, and he paid the driver, while you got out, retrieving Ivar’s wheelchair from the trunk. You set it up and positioned it next to the car, for him to climb into.

Ivar clenched his jaw a bit, obviously annoyed at something, even though you were not quite sure what exactly it was that he was annoyed by now, only hoping that it was not you. Well, at least you would have not far home now.

Ivar climbed out of the car, moving himself over to sit in his chair, before unlocking the breaks and rolling towards the door of the building, while the taxi behind you departed.

Just as you remembered, the entry hall of the apartment complex was very posh, and you were reminded that this was a completely different world from yours. A different world from your shitty apartment, where you could hear almost every conversation your neighbours were having, and where you had push your full body against the bathroom door to get it to close properly.

Following Ivar to the lift, the two of you got in, and Ivar pressed the button of the top floor. As soon as the doors had closed, Ivar’s eyes were on you, mustering you intently. His gaze was a tad intimidating, you had to admit, once again looking like a predator looking at his prey. Still, you managed to look back with a smile.

“Are there any things you don’t eat, before I work my magic?” he asked, a smirk on his handsome face. You had to laugh at his choice of words, but told him about any dietary restrictions or things you didn’t like, and Ivar nodded.

“Alright. I think I know what to make, then.” He leaned back in his chair a bit, biting how lower lip, a move that made your knees feel very weak.

“Thank you.” It came out of your mouth, earning a very surprised expression from Ivar.

“What for?” he asked honestly a bit confused, tilting his head at you.

“For the coffee. And for inviting me over, and for cooking.” You studied his face, hoping to find something there, something that would give up his intentions, something revealing why he was doing this. You just needed to know, needed to know if you could get your hopes up or not. Was this really just a social call because you had been working for him for a year now, or was it something else?

“Thank me after you’ve tasted my glorious food! Then I will gladly accept your thanks.” Ivar winked, and the elevator doors opened. Ivar left the lift, pulling his keys out of his pocket as he stopped at his front door.

His flat was the only flat up here, and you guessed it had to be gigantic, covering the whole top floor. You were sure, his flat probably also had a roof terrace.

You had to admit, this was another thing you found kind of intimidating about this man. The sheer amount of wealth he had, the wealth his family had. While you lived in a flat share with an old kitchen and horrible, tiny bathroom, with just a wet room and not even a proper shower, he lived in this extremely modern, borderline futuristic building, overlooking Oslo.

Ivar opened the door, and pushed himself into the flat, with you following close behind, walking past him before he closed the door again behind you.

Obviously you had imagined this place to be huge and expensive, but what you were seeing in front of your eyes was just.. something else.

It was less of a normal flat, and more of a large loft, most of the rooms merged into one big space. There was, similar to his office, a gigantic glass front overlooking the famous park, and West Oslo. The sun was still in the sky, the sunset not being for another one and a half hours or so.

In the centre of the room was a big, beautiful white sofa, the kind where one could just stretch out like a starfish and not fall down. In front of it was a coffee table made out of driftwood and glass, the dark wood in stark contrast with the sofa. On the right of it were large, metal, urban looking bookshelves, filled with many thick books, some leather bound and old looking, dividing the living area from the ‘bedroom’, and there were a few doors opposite of the windows, that seemed to lead into extra rooms, probably the bathroom and other rooms.

Behind the bookshelf you could see a large bed at the wall, so large in fact that you were sure that it could comfortably fit three to four fully grown people. It was covered and surrounded in white and grey furs, sheep and reindeer as far as you could tell from the distance. Furs also covered parts of the marble floor of the flat.

There were many more furs on and in front of the sofa, and in general it seemed that grey, white and black, together with different shades of brown were the only colours in the whole apartment, making it look very sophisticated.

On the left-hand side was a giant, very modern kitchen, seemingly equipped with everything a cook could wish for, with a large kitchen isle and a big table in front of it, a rustic looking piece of furniture, made of wood and carved with beautiful knot patterns, probably hand made by a very skilled Scandinavian carpenter knowing a lot about medieval woodcarving.

The kitchen itself, you noticed, was lower than what you were used to, and while it confused you for a moment, you quickly realised that it was built so that Ivar could easily reach everything from his wheelchair, without having to get any help.

“Welcome to my humble home.” You heard Ivar’s voice behind you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You swallowed and turned to him, looking at him as he watched you with a knowing smile on his lips.

You could not hold back a laugh.

“Humble?” you simply asked, slipping out of your shoes and walking further into the big room, looking around.

The whole flat was modern and elegant, yet had such a rustic and clearly Scandinavian aesthetic, it was truly impressive. Whoever was the interior designer, was truly a genius, and showed an amazing appreciation for medieval Scandinavian design. Similar works you had only seen in the Folksmuseet in Bygdøy.

The walls that were not made out of glass were covered in picture frames, displaying either old Viking artwork or photographs of Norway and Iceland, of runestones and old temples. Somehow, it fitted in perfectly with the rest of the decoration.

There was a door in the glass front of the flat, leading out, just as you had assumed, onto a large roof top terrace, furnished with even more rustic, wooden, and probably handmade tables and chairs, and, as cliché as it sounded, a beautiful hot tub. It was built into a frame, reminding you of a Viking ship, with a set of carved stairs leading up to it, probably so that Ivar had an easier time to get in and out of it, without requiring any help.

“Alright, I admit, not so humble.” Ivar chuckled. “It was a present from my father when I started to officially work in the company. He had his friend Floki and his wife Helga design and build this whole thing.”

That made you turn around to him once more. You knew these names.

“The Floki and Helga?” you swallowed.

Floki and Helga were very, very famous, highly awarded architects and designers, often hired to design important landmarks and museums. Houses planned by them costing up to a hundred million kronas. They were famous for being able to combine the traditional aesthetics of their ancestors with the modern designs of this century, creating masterpieces that were rewarded all over the world. Now, looking around Ivar’s loft once more, it seemed obvious that this was their handy work.

“Yes, The Floki and Helga.” Ivar chuckled. “The two of them almost raised me when I was a kid. With my parents busy all the time and me being bound to.. this.” He gestured at is chair. “Floki made all the wooden furniture himself. I am very lucky.”

“Indeed you are.” You shook your head, unable to believe what you had just heard.

Obviously, he had been raised by the two of them. Obviously, they had made his home for him, being like family to him, and being friends of his father, the most powerful businessman in Norway, and probably even all of Europe.

By now, you wouldn’t even question, if Ivar casually told you that he was descended from Odin.

Ivar just shrugged at your words, although the expression on his face was a mixture of amused and pride. He bent down to slip out of his shoes, before moving his wheelchair over to a spot next to the door, where another wheelchair was waiting for him, this one looking a bit different, similar to the ones used by disabled athletes. Easier to navigate and probably a bit more comfortable. Ivar heaved himself up from his chair, navigating himself into the other one, a sigh leaving his lips.

“I don’t fancy the dirt from the streets in my home.” He explained at your confused face, before he pushed himself towards you.

Oh yes, that made sense. Just as both of you had taken off your shoes, it would only be logical for him to also ‘change wheels’.

A faint smile was on his lips, as he looked up and into your face, his expression soft and open, something you were not quite used to from him. His body language was relaxed too, his arms simply resting in his lap, as his head was once again tilted slightly.

He was truly a beautiful man, you had to admit. It was difficult to ignore, and sometimes you caught yourself staring in meetings, hoping that no one had noticed how your eyes had been practically glued to your boss. Solveig had made fun of you even more, when you had told her about it.

“I think I’m going to start to cook now, before we starve to death. So, sit down, get comfortable.” He winked at you, before moving his chair towards the kitchen, in the process letting the wheelchair roll a bit, while he pulled his long hair into a tight bun at the back of his head. “Or would you like to help?” he looked back at you with a raised eyebrow, looking at you from underneath his long eyelashes. You had to swallow.

“Well, I am still your personal assistant. So, I will assist you.” You smiled, following him into the kitchen. You hoped that reminding yourself that you were still his employee would calm your nerves.

“I had hoped you’d say that, dove.” There it was again, that nickname. Your nerves were certainly not calm now.

Ivar started to pull out pans and a cutting board, gesturing at the fridge for you to take out certain ingredients and washing them in the sink.

You were not entirely sure what he was going to make, but you were positively surprised that his fridge and his whole pantry was stocked very well. You had to admit, you had taken him for one of those bachelors who had never touched their kitchen in their lives, and with all the money they had always ate out.

But, as Ivar casually explained while you were preparing food, he enjoyed cooking for himself, and did so almost every evening.

While you were washing some vegetables, and he was skilfully cutting up an onion, he casually told you about the cooking schools he had visited when he was younger, and about the occasional dinner parties he threw for his close friends and family, where he cooked up five course meals for them all by himself. He moved around his kitchen as if he knew every millimetre of it, knowing the layout like the back of his hand.

You enjoyed this far too much. You rarely saw Ivar this casual, only on business trips when he was not in the mood to talk about work anymore. And though you did not like to admit it, you were keen to know more about his personal life, to know more about the man behind the name Lothbrok.

It was nice to see him here, in his home. He seemed so at ease, so open, the usual anger and annoyance he often seemed to carry around with himself in day-to-day life completely absent in this moment. This was his space, where he did not have to worry, to think about what upset him.

This flat truly seemed to be his place, and his place alone. His kingdom far from the influence of other people. Here he was himself, independent of everyone else, everything built in a way that he did not need help from other people.

Whatever else would come of tonight, you were just happy that you could witness this. You would see Ivar differently now, you knew. And would probably fall even more for him.

You noticed it getting a bit darker out, and a quick look at your phone told you that it was already half past nine PM. It had not seemed that long, getting to Ivar’s home and starting to cook, as you had not even finished the preparation for cooking yet, but frankly, you didn’t even mind. The setting sun tinted the whole apartment in a magical, golden light, making it look even more beautiful and magical. Ivar’s face turned away from his work for a moment, his blue eyes wandering over the horizon, where the sky was slowly tinted in orange, pink and purple. A faint smile appeared on his face, before he returned his attention to the food.

Absently minded you put your phone on the kitchen isle, before you grabbed a jar of mixed spices, which Ivar had instructed you to get for him while he was still cutting up vegetables. You read the label, not surprised that he had not purchased them in Norway, but in Spain, turning around, eyes still on the jar. Thus, you only noticed too late that Ivar was right behind you, his chair almost inaudible on the marble floor.

With a slightly embarrassing yelp escaping your throat, you lost balance, tripping over Ivar’s wheelchair, falling over and landing straight in his lap. His strong arms were suddenly around you to keep you from completely falling to the floor, and your face probably had taken on a crimson shade.

“Careful there, dove. I’m usually not that hard to miss.” He smirked, to your surprise not even remotely angry with you.

You had once, in your third month at the Lothbrok Corporation, seen a small clerk run into him in the office, who had been a bit late and had not really paid attention. After Ivar had yelled at him for good twenty minutes, he had never been heard of again.

“Gods, I’m so sorry, I..” but you stopped, swallowing, not knowing what to say. You tried to get up, the jar of spices still in your hand, but Ivar’s strong grip around you firmly held you in place.

The man tilted his head, eye flickering to the glass container you were holding. He let go of you with one of his arms, while the other one was still around you, taking the jar from your hands and placing it on the counter next to him. His blue eyes mustered you once more. Your heart was pounding. In the light of the setting sun he looked even more handsome than he had already.

“I have told you, that you look good today, right?” he asked, his voice low. His hand had returned to hold you again, and you noticed his fingers carefully caressing your back, which sent a shiver up your spine.

Your mind was racing, as was your heart.

You could not but stare into his piercing blue eyes, not sure what to say, how to respond to him right now, or if you should say anything at all. You were unable to think even one coherent thought, as you felt his strong arms around you, his firm body below you, and his hot breath against you skin.. wait. When had he gotten this close to you?

Before you could really comprehend what was happening, you suddenly felt Ivar’s lips against yours, not firm, but soft, almost shily moving against yours. In that moment, it was as if your mind just gave up, and turned itself off.

#ivar the boneless #ivar imagine #ivars heathen army #ivar x reader #vikings imagine #coffeeAU

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secretkeeper13 · 3 years

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Flirt

I decided to try my hand at an outside perspective Hinny OC. Just a bit of fluff, some humor (hopefully), and a bit of cringe. I hope you enjoy poor, sweet Craig! Also on Ao3.

The sun shone through the windows of the Three Broomsticks, casting rays of light across the dark wooden booths and tables. The pub was crowded- it was a Saturday, after all, and from the looks of it, plenty of Magpies fans had decided to apparate directly from the match, their black and white jerseys giving the room the appearance of a wonky chessboard. It was still late afternoon, so families with small children were mixed in among the regulars, contributing to the noisy din.

The table his mates chose was near the entrance, and he sat facing the door as he talked and laughed with them. It was strange, being here, all together, the six of them, now that they were out of school. They were still close- it was hard to live with people for seven years and not become friends. Though, he’d heard stories from others who couldn’t stand the people in their dormitories, so they were lucky in that regard, he supposed.

They’d been at the pub for less than an hour, after walking down from Dan’s flat on High Street once the match ended. He’d missed being around his mates every day, and they’d quickly made up for lost time, talking, joking, and laughing as if they were back in the dorm at Hogwarts and no time had passed since they’d all been together last.

“Let’s hear it Craig, got yourself any birds recently?”

Dan’s teasing tone jolted him out of his thoughts. His cheeks colored a bit at being called out.

“Nah, mate, Craigey-boy’s still hung up on Cressida,” Will chimed in, and Craig shot an annoyed look at his flat mate.

“I’m not hung up on her. And I have been out with other girls, you’ve been there. Stop taking the mick.”

Will grinned at him and raised his eyebrow. “Haven’t brought any home though, have you?”

Craig sighed. When he and Cressida split up this summer after seventh year, it hadn’t been on bad terms. She was off to Egypt to be a curse breaker for Gringotts, and he had no desire to leave England, so they’d gone their separate ways. He’d been happy living as a bachelor in London with Will, but he did miss her. Well, he missed the companionship of having a girlfriend, he supposed, trying not to think about her piercing blue eyes, the casual way she would ruffle his hair, or the way she kissed. He’d supposed that being with someone for so long- nearly two years- made it harder to move on. He couldn’t really picture being with anyone other than her.

“It isn’t like I haven’t been trying. You saw me get off with that girl outside the Leaky last month. Wouldn’t shut up about it for days, in fact.”

Will laughed. “Didn’t bring her home though.”

He hadn’t brought her home. She was good looking, but not as pretty as Cressida. And to be honest, she hadn’t been a very good snog either, so really, what was the point?

“Mate, you need to get a leg over. It’s been what, six months now?” Ben asked.

Craig glared at him. They all knew full well how long it had been since he and Cressida split. Ben grinned back at him.

“Well, maybe today’ll be the day,” he shot back.

“To Craigey getting laid!” Will called, and they all raised their glasses to toast him in jest as he flipped them off with two fingers.

Not a quarter hour later, he happened to look up just as a gorgeous girl walked in the door of the pub. She was petite, and wearing a tight turtleneck sweater in dark green, with red hair cascading past her shoulders down to her tits, which were full for her small frame. She glanced around, as if looking for someone, then headed over to the bar. Craig’s stomach fluttered in anticipation. This could be exactly what he’d been waiting for.

“Next rounds on me,” he said to the table, gesturing over to the bar, where the girl stood. Her position at the bar meant that her back was to their table, so they couldn’t see her face, only her long, shiny red hair. She was wearing tight, tan trousers tucked into brown boots that came up to below her knees, and she had a fantastic arse, he noted.

Will made a low whistle and nodded in appreciation.

“Go get her Clarke,” Dan said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Craig stood up and walked over to the bar. He ran a hand through his sandy brown hair. He was nervous, and a bit tipsy, as they’d cracked open the firewhisky as soon as they’d arrived at Dan’s place. He took a breath to steady himself, then he sidled up next to her at the bar.

“Packed today, isn’t it?” he said, trying to sound casual, as if he chatted up fit girls all the time.

“Yes, by the looks of it we’re in for a bit of a wait,” she said, looking at the lone barmaid and the patrons stacked two deep up and down the long bar.

“Well, in that case... I’m Craig. Craig Clarke,” he said, extending his hand and giving her a boyish grin.

She looked surprised for a second, but then she took his hand and shook it, her hand small and warm in his.

“Pleasure to meet you, Craig,” she said, smiling. She exuded confidence. Her eyes were a lovely shade of warm brown and seemed to shine in the afternoon light.

He was so captivated by her that it was only later that he realized she’d never told him her name.

“Do you come here often?” he asked, and as soon as he said it, he inwardly cringed at the obvious line.

Her lips turned up into a small smile, almost like a smirk, he thought.

“Not since I was in school.”

“Oh, I went to Hogwarts as well. Just finished last year. Hufflepuff. What house were you in?”

“I was a Gryffindor,” she replied, and her smile got broader and more impish, making his heart beat faster.

She wasn’t in his year, or he obviously would’ve known her. There was something oddly familiar about her, though- like he knew her, but couldn’t place her. She must’ve been a year or two ahead of him. Maybe he’d seen her in the corridors. He wouldn’t have forgotten a face like hers if he’d met her properly, of that he was certain.

“I didn’t know many Gryffindors outside of my year. Dated a Ravenclaw though. Spent far too much time in their common room, unfortunately.” He was rambling like an idiot, he thought, but unable to stop himself. And, why, why was he mentioning his ex? Her smile was dazzling and it was too much, almost like looking directly into the sun.

“You and me both.”

“Swotty lot aren’t they?”

She laughed, a silvery tinkling sound, and her nose crinkled up a bit, which was adorable. He was smitten.

“I don’t normally come up to Hogsmeade either anymore, but one of my mates in my year works for Dervish and Banges, and we all came to his today to listen to the Montrose game.”

“Over quick, wasn’t it? Their new seeker had quite the debut.”

“You follow Quidditch?” he asked, delighted, though it was clear she did. She really was perfect, this girl.

“In a manner of speaking,” she said, almost coyly, and that smirk had returned.

“Which team do you support? I’m a Puddlemere man myself. Muggle born, so I got into it late. Brilliant sport though.”

“Harpies, through and through.” She bit her bottom lip, as if to keep from smiling wider. Her coy looks were driving him mad.

He wanted to keep the conversation going. Hopefully, he could work up the courage to ask her out.

“I live in London now. I work for the Magical Menagerie, caring for all the animals there. What do you do?” he asked. Perhaps she lived in London too. Maybe they’d know some of the same people, and he could invite her out with a group of his friends.

“Well, I’ve just had a bit of a career change. I’m a correspondent for the Prophet now.”

“Do you like it?”

“I just started, but yes, so far I do.”

“Well good luck with the change. My mate Will,” he gestured over to the booth where his friends sat, “just went through the whole career change bit. He took a job at the Ministry in the Department of Transportation right out of Hogwarts. His Deputy Head was a real stickler- impossible to work for, everything had to be just so- you know the type. He only lasted four months before he managed to get a transfer over to International Magical Cooperation. He likes it much better there, thankfully.”

“Yes, I definitely know the type,” she said, and her right hand covered her mouth as she seemed to suppress a giggle. He wasn’t sure what was funny about his comment, but he didn’t much care so long as he was making her laugh.

“Oi, Clarke, what’s taking so long? You getting our round or what!” his friends heckled him from the table.

“Come off it, it’s packed,” he called back, but they were all clearly engrossed in some drinking game they were playing and just ribbing him.

He turned back to her. “Sorry about my mates. Bunch of blokes together, you know how it is.”

“I’m very familiar, trust me.” There was that smile again, so coy.

“What’ll it be love?” the haggard barmaid asked as she finally reached them.

He turned to her and smiled. “What would you like? It’s on me.”

“Oh,” she said, looking apologetic, “I couldn’t possibly, it’s really alright.”

“No, I insist, you’ve been such good company, let me buy you a drink.”

“No really, I-“

“Oh come on love, let him buy you the drink. I don’t have all day. Bars two deep right now,” said the barmaid, looking extremely exasperated.

“Just a butterbeer for me please,” she said to the barmaid, and then he placed the order for their round.

“Craig,” she said as the barmaid walked away. God, he loved the way his name sounded when she said it. “Listen, you’re very kind, but...”

“Mum-Mum! Mum-Mum!”

A baby, maybe a year old, babbling nonsense, appeared on her other side in the arms of a tall man wearing a baseball cap. The baby grasped her long hair, the smooth copper strands peeking through his tiny fist. He had thick, dark hair that stuck up in the back, and big brown eyes. Eyes that were exactly the same shade as hers, Craig noticed.

“Oh, Jim-Jams,” she cooed, taking the baby from the arms of the tall man holding him.

He was confused. Surely, she didn’t have a baby? She was probably only a year or two older than he was. Maybe a nephew, he thought.

The man who handed the baby to her was holding a knapsack over his shoulder and looked a bit frazzled. “I’m sorry we’re late to meet you, Gin. Didn’t expect the game to end so quickly. And then, on the way out, I turned my back for a half-second to grab more floo powder to refill the tin on the mantle, and he crawled into the loo, pulled himself up, and was splashing his hand around in the toilet. Had to give him a bath, didn’t want to chance a charm with that.”

She winced, then chuckled. “I told you he’s getting fast! And it’s alright, don’t worry. Neville’s not here yet either. He sent me a patronus that he’d got tied up with something. He should be on his way down now.”

Craig’s confusion grew. Who was this Neville? He hoped it wasn’t a boyfriend she was meeting.

“Mum-Mum!” the baby said again, as he settled on her hip, breaking into a wide, four-toothed smile.

She beamed down at the baby. “Hello, James. Mummy missed you, cheeky little monkey.” She reached her left hand up to stroke his cheek, and he noticed, for the first time, her wedding ring.

At this, the wheels, which had been turning far too slowly in his head, finally clicked into place.

He felt his face flush with complete embarrassment. He’d just been trying to chat up a married woman- the mother of a baby, for fuck’s sake. Well done, Craig . She probably thought he was a complete cad.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he said to her, his words rushed and incredibly apologetic. “I didn’t realize, I had no idea...”

She held up her hand and smiled at him. “It’s alright, you were very kind, really.”

“Gin, I think I see Neville on his way,” the man said. The man (her husband, Craig corrected himself, groaning inwardly at his absolute stupidity in failing to realize this sooner) was looking out the front window, onto High Street. Craig hoped he’d missed their exchange.

The man turned back to face their direction, his round glasses catching the light. He looked at Craig with a bemused expression. Dark stubble lined the man’s jaw, and black hair was visible under the cap. He looked a bit like Harry Potter, Craig thought, thinking of the Witch Weekly poster Cressida had of him for ages. Quite a lot, actually.

Then, realization, followed immediately by absolute horror, washed over him as he looked back at the red-haired woman.

Ginny Potter. He’d been trying to chat up Ginny Potter. The star chaser for the Harpies, whose poster had hung above Ben’s bed in the dormitory since fourth year, for fuck’s sake. How had he not realized it? Ginny Potter, who’d been on the cover of every newspaper for months when she’d decided to retire because she was having a baby. Harry Potter’s baby. He’d been hitting on Harry Potter’s bloody wife for the last five minutes.

His jaw was agape as he stared at her and tried to form words. He probably looked like a giant goldfish, he thought.

“You’re...” he gulped, still looking at her, his cheeks on fire. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize you. I’m a bit drunk, you see. And I thought you were maybe a year or two older than me, not...” he trailed off, feeling like a complete idiot and wanting nothing more than to disappear.

She laughed, but it was genuine and not unkind. “Don’t apologize, it was refreshing, actually. Gives me hope for an anonymous future,” she said, and she winked at him. He felt his face flush even more.

He turned to the man, to Harry Potter, he corrected himself. “Mr. Potter, sir, thank you. I’m Muggleborn and started at Hogwarts a year after the battle. Wouldn’t have been able to go without all you did.”

God, he was babbling like an idiot. The baby was more coherent.

Harry Potter shifted a bit and looked uncomfortable at his praise. “That’s very kind of you to say. But I had loads of help, it wasn’t just me.”

“Daaaa,” gurgled the baby, who now had his hand on Ginny Potter’s breast, patting it happily. Craig immediately tried to look anywhere else. His face was even redder, he was certain. He stared at the bar top as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

Just when he thought his humiliation was complete, he heard a familiar voice.

“Hullo Harry, Ginny. And James! Merlin, he’s grown! Getting to be a big boy now, aren’t you?”

Craig looked up into the round, smiling face of his favorite professor, who was pretending to shake the baby’s hand as the baby gurgled and laughed. Oh, how he wished the day would end.

“Hello, Professor Longbottom.”

“Clarke! How’s the Menagerie going? I’ve missed your N.E.W.T. class this year more than I can say.”

“It’s going well, sir. I’m actually in charge of preparing all the food for the creatures- we’ve got a small greenhouse off the back, so I’ve been doing some growing myself.”

Professor Longbottom looked pleased, but then he asked the question Craig was dreading. “Craig, have you met Harry and Ginny Potter?”

“Oh, erm, yes actually...” he stammered, unable to think of how to politely phrase that he’d just tried to chat up Mrs. Potter because he thought she was fit and didn’t recognize her.

“Craig was kind enough to keep me company while I waited for Harry to arrive,” Mrs. Potter interjected. He shot her a grateful look.

“Drinks, loves.” The barmaid returned with a butterbeer and six glasses of firewhiskey.

Craig paid her and turned to Mrs. Potter to hand her the butterbeer.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him, as Harry Potter put his arm around her waist.

“Rosmerta’s saved us the back corner booth,” Professor Longbottom said, glancing to the empty booth tucked away in the far corner, away from the bar and the tables, “We’d best be off before these two are recognized by anyone else.”

“Goodbye, Professor, Mr. and Mrs. Potter,” he said, nodding to them. “Enjoy the afternoon.”

“Goodbye Craig,” Mrs. Potter said, smiling at him, her brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “And if you wouldn’t mind not mentioning it to anyone else that Harry is here, we’d appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he said, nodding, just wanting the whole thing to be over.

“Bye-bye,” said the baby, waving unprompted at him. Great, even the baby was having a go at him, Craig thought. Mrs. Potter laughed delightedly, and Mr. Potter exclaimed, “Clever boy, James!” They turned and walked off towards the back corner booth.

When they were gone, he finally exhaled, and slumped against the bar. He motioned over Will to help him carry the drinks back to the table.

As soon as he sat down, he began to gulp his firewhisky in earnest, wanting to forget that the horribly embarrassing incident had ever occurred.

“So what happened, mate?” Dan asked.

“Oh, erm, turned out she was married. Talked to her for a few minutes before I saw the ring.”

“Tough luck,” said Will. “Didn’t get a good look at her face, but she was fit.”

Craig nodded, still drinking. “What are you playing?” he asked, eager to change the subject, and then he threw himself into their game of 21, wishing for all the world that he and Cressida had never broken up. Not just because he missed her, which he did (he finally admitted to himself)- but because if they hadn’t, this never would have happened.

An hour and a half and more firewhisky later, Craig was feeling pleasantly numb. Some of the mortification had subsided, at least. And then suddenly, he looked up, and she was there, alone, standing next to his chair.

“Craig, we’re heading out, but thank you for being so kind earlier. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered.”

“Oh, erm, it was nothing, really,” he said, feeling himself blush and wishing he could sink into the stone floor and disappear.

“Rosmerta will be over in a mo’. The next rounds on me, boys, enjoy yourselves,” she said to the table, before giving Craig a wink and a wave. Then, she turned, walked out the door, and disappeared with a pop before the door swung shut. His friends immediately turned to him.

“Was that?!”

“She’s bloody fit she is. Even better than in photos.”

“Damn, Harry Potter is a lucky sod.”

“Wait, you tried to chat up Ginny Potter?!”

“I didn’t recognize her!” he moaned, putting his head in his hands as his mates erupted into laughter. God, he would never, ever hear the end of this.

As his friends began to tease him in earnest (and really, he couldn’t blame them), Craig swore to himself that he would never try to flirt with some random girl at a bar again. He’d be single forever over ever reliving the humiliation of what happened today. Or maybe, he would write to Cressida tonight. Yes, he would write to her as soon as he got home.

#hinny fanfic #fluff #cringe #sweet himbo #poor craig #ginny weasley is hot

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atlafan · 4 years

Text

My Everything - Part Fourteen

A Take it Slow Sequel

What happens with Harry and Y/N after he proposes? How will the two navigate the engaged life while also continuing to juggle their jobs, friends, and families? Let’s find out.

Warnings: Fluff, a wee bit of angst, and smut! 4.6K

a/n: this is the last part before the story takes a small break, but do not fear! There’s going to be 20 parts total, and I have parts 15-17 already fully written and ready to go. I just wanna give this a breather so I can put some other works out there. I hope you’re enjoying seeing them as parents! Will they make a second baby? We shall soon find out! (also, I don’t know how much a 2 year old can actually articulate, so if his dialogue is wonky, please excuse me lmao)

Masterpost

Jack was two years old, and you were loving having a toddler. He was rather rambunctious. You loved having summers off so you could spend time at home with him. You loved watching him play and learn. He was getting rather heavy to pick up, and his mop of curls reminded you a lot of Harry’s. He was certainly a good mix of the two of you.

Even though there were times you wanted to scream and cry when he’d get fussy, you knew it would only be another couple of years before he started school, and you wouldn’t have this time with him. You were sort of starting to miss having an actual baby around. As you watched him play in the backyard with Buster, you thought more and more about how nice it would be for him to have a little sibling to play with. He had friends from daycare, but still, a younger brother or sister would be nice.

When Harry gets home from work later, he had adjusted his schedule to be able to be home by 3PM in the summers, he sits outside with you.

“Maybe it’s time we look into a pool.” He says to you.

“What?”

“It gets good sun out here.”

“Sarah and Niall have a pool, we can just use theirs.”

“I know, but wouldn’t it be nice to have one of our own? Nothing crazy, an above ground pool. We’ve got the room.”

“It’s expensive.”

“We can afford it.” He shrugs.

“What if there’s other things we’ll need that money for?”

“Like what?” He turns to look at you. Before you can answer him you both hear Jack whaling. He had tripped and fallen. “That’s what happens when you run after Daddy tells you not to, Jack.” Harry shakes his head and gets up to check on his little boy. He scoops him up and brings him over to sit. “Ah, just a scrape, no harm done, but you can cry if yeh want to, no one’s tellin’ yeh not to cry, son.” He rocks Jack back and forth in his arms and you swear you can feel your ovaries exploding. “What?”

“What?”

“You’re givin’ me a weird look.” He chuckles.

“Want mumma.” Jack sniffles.

“Okay, come see me.” You take him from Harry. “You know just because mumma’s a doctor now, doesn’t mean she’s like Dr. Morris.” You tell Jack. Yes, you had gotten your PhD, it was grueling, but it allowed you to go on a tenure track at the university.

“Kisses mumma.”

“Ohhh, I see.” You give him kisses all over and it makes him giggle. “All better now?”

“Can I have juice, pwease.”

“Yes, honey.”

“I’ll go get it, you sit.” Harry gets up and goes inside to grab Jack his juice box. “Here yeh go, son.” Jack grabs it from Harry.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“So polite.” Harry rustles the hair on the top of Jack’s head.

“Don’t drink it too fast or you’ll get the hiccups.” Buster trots over and laps up the water in the bowl you brought outside for him. He lays down in the cool of the shade.

“M’gonna have to mow in a couple days.” Harry sighs. You squeeze your legs together at the thought.

Watching Harry mow the lawn was like watching a cliché porno. He’d be shirtless, and incredibly sweaty. He’d have his bandana to keep his hair up off his forehead, and he’d come inside to grab a glass of water. You’d often sit up on the counter and watch him drink the cold beverage. That would lead to him giving you a quick fuck in the downstairs bathroom when he could, if Jack was napping.

“Harry?” You look at him and he looks at you.

“Aw, look, his little eyes are closin’.” He looks down at Jack who was falling asleep in your arms. “So cozy with his mumma.”

“Shit, if he sleeps now he won’t sleep tonight. Jack, wake up honey.” He jolts awake and looks at you. “Do you wanna go inside? Think you’ve earned some TV time, hm?”

“TV!” He repeats and smiles at you.

You take Jack inside, first to use the potty as you were still training him. Then you get him settled on the couch with his favorite cartoon playing on the TV. Harry grabs some carrot sticks to munch on before sitting down with the two of you.

“What do you feel like for dinner tonight? I could make some hot dogs for him on the grill, and some veggie burgers for us.” He snaps into a carrot.

“Sure, that sounds good.” You look down at Jack and see he’s mesmerized by the TV. “Can we speak in the kitchen?”

“Um…sure.” You both get up and walk over to kitchen. You had a large open concept area so you could still keep your eyes on Jack. “Am I in trouble?” He was thoroughly confused.

“What?! No! Why would you be?” You laugh and he shrugs his shoulders. “No, I just didn’t want him to overhear. We didn’t exactly finish our conversation from before.”

“Oh.” He says, relieved. “What were we even talkin’ about?”

“Well, you had mentioned a pool, and I was thinking we’d need to save that money.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, why can’t we get a pool? I think we’ve done a good job of savin’, hell, we even started Jack’s college fund already. We’re in really good shape. I don’t think it would set us back much, and it’d pay for itself with how much we’d all use it.”

“We can just buy a little blow up kiddie pool for now.”

“But…I would like to swim also.” He tries to read your face. You seemed nervous. “Is everything alright? What’s goin’ on up there?” He taps on your forehead.

“Harry…I…” You bite your bottom lip.

“Honey, whatever it is, you can tell me. You’re scarin’ me a little.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“Sorry, I just don’t exactly know how to phrase it.” You take a deep breath and look back over at Jack who was still content with his cartoons. “I wanna have another baby.” You whisper. Harry’s cheeks flush and his eyebrows raise. “I think we’re ready, don’t you? And I miss…I miss having a little baby. I’m still able to snuggle with Jack, but he’s getting big and he’s gonna start preschool in a couple of years, and I-“

Harry cups your cheeks and brings you in for a kiss. It gives you the good kind of butterflies in your stomach.

“So…um…that’s why I think we should hold off on the pool.”

“We can afford both.” He chuckles. “Babe, you really wanna have another?”

“I do.” You nod. “Do you?”

“Of course! I would’ve gotten yeh pregnant again a while ago if you had let me.” He smirks. “I was waitin’ for you to say somethin’. I told yeh a long time ago, I’ll have as many kids as you let us.” He strokes your cheek.

“I really want another one.” You wrap your arms around his neck. “Someone for Jack to grow up with and play with, you know?”

“Mhm.” He presses his forehead to yours. “You’ll have to go to the doctor to have your IUD taken out.”

“I know.” You step back from him. “I can make an appointment this week if I really wanted to.”

“Wow, so you wanna start trying, like, right away?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Are you sure you’re not just, like, horny?” He chuckles.

“Harry.” You swat an arm at him. “Well, I am, but I really wanna have another baby. We made such a beautiful little boy, let’s make another.” You pout at him and he kisses you. “No way we can still afford a pool.”

“I bet we can, but I suppose we could wait until next summer. I just hate imposing on Niall and Sarah…”

“Are you kidding? She loves when I bring Jack over to swim. We were there this morning. She has summers off too, remember? Sometimes Rach joins us, it’s great. She really doesn’t mind.”

“Okay. Make an appointment then, and then we’ll make another baby.” He gives your belly a pat. “You realize though we’ll probably have to fuck in your office, that’s how we got Jack after all.”

“Oh stop it. We also had sex that weekend for my birthday.”

“I think it was the spontaneity that did it. Gotta remember to not put too much pressure on it.”

“Okay, so catch me off guard when you wanna fuck me.” You shrug. He grips your hips as you start to walk away, and you swat at him. “Not now, you idiot.”

“Come on, let’s practice.”

“Harry…why don’t you go start the grill up, hm? I’m gonna take Jack with me to walk Buster.”

“Okay, fine.” He sighs and rolls his eyes extra heavy. “But don’t say I never offer.”

You go to the doctor and get your IUD removed. Dr. Johnson doesn’t think you’ll have too much trouble conceiving, but she gives you a list of vitamins you might want to try to help yourself out. You get Jack in the car seat after your appointment.

“Jack, you were so good for mummy while she saw the doctor, thank you so much.”

“Treat, mumma?”

“Sure, I think we could go get a treat.”

You drive over to Harry’s studio and walk down the street to the ice cream shop. Buster was with Harry today, so you get a dog-friendly vanilla ice cream. You get everyone ice cream and walk with Jack back to the studio.

“Okay, you know what to say when you walk in right?” You wink at him as you open the door.

“Supwise!” He yells and Isaac beams.

“Look who it is!” He gets up to help you with the ice cream. “This really is a surprise. Hi Jack.”

“Hi.” He hugs your leg shyly, and hides his face. Buster gets up from around the desk and trots over. Jack perks up when he sees his buddy.

“Where’s my hubby?”

“Upstairs in his office. Him and Mariah are having an editing day. She’s in her office in the back.”

“Ah. Come on Jack, think you can climb the stairs? That vanilla one is for Buster.” You say to Isaac.

“Sure thing, and thanks for the treats. I’ll go give this to Mariah.”

You and Jack go up the stairs and knock on Harry’s door.

“Isaac, this better fuckin’-“ Harry’s eyes widen when he opens the door to see his wife and child standing there. “Oh! Hi!” He smiles. He gives you a kiss, and picks up Jack.

“Got you treat, Daddy.” He points to the ice cream in your hands.

“I see that, well come on in.” He sets Jack on the floor with his ice cream and a napkin.

“We were in the neighborhood, I saw Dr. Johnson today.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot that was today. What flavor did yeh get me?”

“Your favorite, purple cow.”

“Thank you.” He kisses you again as he takes the ice cream from you. “None for mummy?”

“I took a few bites of yours. I figured I’d just eat whatever he doesn’t finish.” You shrug.

“So it was a good appointment then?”

“Mhm, IUD is gone, and I picked up some vitamins she said could help. I’m in no condition to do anything tonight so don’t even think about it.”

“Hey, I’m completely innocent.” He takes a bite of ice cream. “So…when can we start trying then?”

“Whenever the mood feels right, honey.” You sit down on the little love seat and wipe Jack’s mouth.

“No!” He screams. He hates having his face wiped.

“Jack.” Harry says sternly. “Let mummy clean you up, you’re a mess.”

“No!” He screams again. Harry looks at you and then at Jack.

“Alright, I guess you don’t want ice cream then.” He sighs.

“Harry, no, it’s his treat for being good for me earlier.”

“He’s not bein’ good now.”

“And taking it away is just gonna make it worse. He doesn’t like the dry napkin, I’ll take him down to the bathroom in a minute.”

“Y/N.”

“Harry.”

“M’done, mumma.”

“Okay.” You take his cup and throw it in the trash. “Can we go clean up now?”

“Mhm.”

“Oh good, I was worried you’d say no.” You poke his tummy and he giggles. “See, we totally avoided a meltdown.”

“Guess I just don’t know him as well as you do then.” He grumbles.

“Harry, that’s not what I meant at all.”

“No, it’s fine. You get the best of both worlds with him. You’re a stay at home parent in the summer and then during the school year he still sees you more since he goes to daycare at work with you.” Harry follows you out and down to the bathroom. He holds Jack up so you can wash his hands.

“It’s not like you can close this place down or just not work in the summer time. You come home early, and that’s really great.”

“But you know him better, and then I…end up being the bad guy more. I swear he likes you better sometimes.”

“First of all, I’m the bad guy a lot, you’re just not there to see it. Second of all, he misses you all day long. He couldn’t wait to come surprise you. You’re an amazing father, Harry, please.” Harry sets Jack down once he’s all clean. “Come on, Jack we need go home and let Daddy get back to work.

“No!”

“Must be his favorite word today.” You mumble to Harry. “You can’t stay with Daddy, he has a lot to do. He’ll be home in a couple of hours.”

“No!” He starts crying and attaches himself to Harry’s legs.

“He can stay here, I have coloring books for him upstairs.”

“You won’t get anything done if he does. Jack, enough, we’re going home.”

“No!” He whales.

“Y/N, it’s fine. I’ll get plenty done. M’sure you could use the alone time, right?”

“He’s cranky because it’s almost nap time. He’ll fall asleep in the car and it’ll be fine. Help me get him in the car, please?”

Harry nods and picks a crying Jack up. These were the days you couldn’t wait for Jack to start preschool. Harry gets Jack strapped into his car seat, he was still crying.

“Jack, I need you to be good for mummy, okay? I’ll be home soon.”

“No, Daddy.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Harry. Let it go.” Jack continues to cry after Harry closes the car door. “He’ll fall asleep the second I start driving.”

“I know, it just breaks my heart. I feel so guilty.”

“Don’t.” You cup his cheeks. “You have nothing to be guilty over. He’s just being cranky. It’s how he is sometimes. He does the same thing to me if I take him to run errands at an odd time. He needs his nap, that’s all.” You kiss Harry quick. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

“Alright, love you.”

“Love you too.”

Harry watches as you drive away. He sighs heavily and goes back into the studio. Mariah was standing at Isaac’s desk with him.

“Is everything okay? I swear I heard crying.” She says.

“Jack didn’t feel like leavin’. He’s goin’ through the no phase right now. I don’t what’s worse, when he was teething or this.”

“Probably this, since he can talk back to you.” She smirks. “We all know how much you love that.”

“Hey, Mariah? Get back to work.” He grins, and goes back upstairs.

Harry comes home with a cauliflower crust pizza for dinner. He figured if you could surprise him, he could surprise you.

“We can keep it in the oven for now if it’s too early to eat.”

“Sounds good, yeah, it’s only 3:30, you know? But thank you this’ll be great. Hi Buster, how’s mumma’s boy?” You pet the top of his head.

“How’s Jack?”

“He’s fine.” You scoff. “Passed out in the car like I thought, and then I put him to bed for the rest of his nap. He’s coloring now at his table in the living room.”

“Daddy!” Jack exclaims when he sees Harry. He runs over to him and Harry picks him up. Harry gives him a nice kiss on the cheek.

“How was your nap?”

“Good.” He shrugs.

“Can I see what you’ve colored?” Jack nods and Harry carries him into the living room. Harry sits on the floor next to Jack so he can properly see the pages his drawn on. “Oh wow! That’s a good one, I like how you used green for everything, and then just put that one dot of blue there.” You giggle as you listen to him. Harry really was a good dad.

Around 7PM you get Jack down for bed and nearly collapse on the couch with Harry.

“Long day, babe?”

“Mhm, he was up early with me today. Crawled right in with me.”

“Aw, I love when he does that.”

“Me too, just not when I wanna sleep in a little.” You laugh. “I have no privacy to shower sometimes.”

Harry throws his arm around you as he turns the TV.

“Yeah? What do you need privacy for? Shavin’ your legs?” He smirks.

“You know exactly what I need privacy for.”

“So we really can’t have sex tonight?”

“I’m a little sore from the doctor, sweetie. Tomorrow.”

“I could eat you out, oh! Let’s sixty-nine.” He wiggles his eyebrows. You scrunch your face at him. “It’s been ages since we did that.”

“Harry, no.” You cross your arms and settle into his chest while you watch the screen.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not in the mood right now. I’m full from dinner and I’m tired.” You look up at him. “I shouldn’t even need to give you a reason, no should be enough.” You turn back to the TV and you hear him sigh.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“I’m just excited.”

“I know.” You look at him again. “It’s hard not jumping you when I see you with him. You have way more patience than I do sometimes.”

“Oh I see, so you only get turned on when you see me hangin’ out with him. I get it.”

“No!” You laugh. “That’s not what I’m saying at all.”

“It just makes you wanna have another.”

“Mhm.” You kiss his cheek. “You’re just so good.”

“You’re good with him too, you know that right?” You nod yes. “Good.”

A couple of days later, on Saturday, Harry woke you up early and you wanted to kill him.

“You’re worse than him, I swear.” You groan.

“Come shower with me.” He whispers.

“What?”

“He should be asleep a little longer and so should Buster. Come shower with me.” He tugs you out of bed and to your feet.

“Why?” You rub the sleep away from your eyes.

“So we can fuck, obviously.”

“We need to be in the shower to fuck?” You yawn.

“No…but…he can’t exactly walk in on us like this, can he?”

“Good point.”

Harry turns the water on, and once it’s warm you’re being yanked into the shower and pressed up against the tile.

“Oh god.” You moan as his mouth works over your neck and his fingers slip inside you.

He slots his mouth over yours to swallow your moans. Your fingers rake through his hair and he presses his hard dick against your thigh.

“Fuck, put it in, fuck me, Harry.” You whine.

He lines himself up with you and just gets the tip in when you both hear a tap on the door and a little boy’s voice calling for the two of you.

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me.” He grunts. You step away from Harry and turn the water off. “Y/N!” He whines. “I’m gonna have blue balls.”

“So jerk off.” You snap. “I’m just as annoyed, deal with it.” You wrap a towel around yourself and open the door to see Jack sitting with his thumb in his mouth. “Good morning, my love.”

“Hungry.” He whines.

“Okay, mummy make you breakfast.” You secure your towel before picking him up and taking him downstairs.

Harry finally joins you in the kitchen and takes Buster out immediately. You watch as Jack picks at his cheerios. You make yourself and Harry some coffee so it’s ready for when he gets back.

“He needs to learn to stay in his bloody bed.” Harry grumbles when he gets back. “Can’t we put a gate up?”

“We did that, but he’s potty training now so he needs to be able to get into the bathroom in the morning and use the little potty if he needs it.”

“Think it’s time for a sleepover at Mimi’s.” That was what your mother wanted to be called instead of grandma.

“Harry.” You sigh. “We’re headed to London in like two weeks, where we will be staying for like three weeks. I’m sure your mum would love to have him to herself for a few days then. We can run off to the flat and have some alone time.”

“You wanna wait two fuckin’ weeks?!”

“Harry! You know how I feel about you dropping the f bomb in front of him.” You scold him. “Come on, Jack, let’s get you ready for the day. Auntie Sarah said you could come over and swim since it’s gonna be so hot out.”

“Yay!”

“Get your swimsuit on.” You say to Harry.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He says as he watches you rub sunscreen all over Jack.

“No, I don’t wanna wait two weeks, but my mom has a life too. She can’t just take him whenever we want.”

“What about your dad?”

“What about my dad?” You scoff. “He’s not sleeping over there.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” You stand up to look at him. “You know he’s traveling right now. He always goes for road trips in the summer.”

“Okay, what about-“

“Harry.” You snap and grit your teeth. “I love you, but go put your swim suit on, so I can go put mine on.”

Harry gets Jack’s things packed up while you get ready. You come down in a cute one piece and a pair of shorts.

“Got everything?” You ask.

“Yup.”

The three of you, plus Buster, walk down the street to Niall and Sarah’s. You walk around back to where the two of them are already sitting outside.

“Hey! Look who it is.” Niall says, and gets up to help with all the things you brought. “Y/N, are you alright? You look a little flushed.”

“I’m fine.” You set Jack down, and he toddles over to say hi to Sarah, who scoops him right up. “We got interrupted this morning.” You roll your eyes.

“Oh.” He looks at the two of you. “So go home for a little bit then.”

“No, it’s fine, we came to swim.”

“You can come back. We can watch him for a little while.”

“Thanks, mate.” Harry smiles, and you suck your teeth.

“Niall, we didn’t come over for you to babysit, it’s fine.”

“Oi, go home and make love to your husband would yeh?”

“Yeah, Y/N.” Sarah says. “I’ll play with him in the pool, he won’t even know you’re gone.”

“We-“ Harry lifts you up over his shoulder.

“We’ll be back in a little while, thanks guys.”

“Harry!” You squeal. “Put me down!”

He gets you back halfway to the house before putting you down. He shakes his head at you as he keys into your house.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m embarrassed.” You say shyly.

“Y/N, we’ve literally had sex with them in the same house as us before. S’not a big deal they know what we’re doin’.” He tilts your chin up to look at him. “Don’t you wanna love on each other?” He pouts.

“Of course I do…” You pout back.

“Alright, so let’s go upstairs to our nice air conditioned room, and get busy.”

You nod and follow him upstairs. You both get undressed and get on the bed. He takes some time to just caress your body, his fingers dancing up and down your soft skin. You take some initiative and grip his hardening cock and stroke it. His fingers slide between your legs and you moan out. He groans as your thumb rubs over his tip.

He stops his motions and gets you fully on your back, parting your legs. He licks his lips and attaches them swiftly to your clit.

“Christ!” Your hips buck up and he uses his forearm to pin you in place.

He licks all around your folds and then licks into you, using his free hand to rub circles on your clit.

“H, Harry.” You groan. Your hands reach for his hair and you get tight grip on him how he likes. He groans into you and it makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“You’re soaked, all this f’me.” He grunts as he continues to work his tongue.

“Wanted you all morning, I was so frustrated.” You start panting when you feel yourself get closer to the edge. “Oh my god, please don’t stop!”

Harry’s tongue moves back to your clit to flick at it while he gets a couple of fingers inside you to rub against that spongey spot. Your legs start shaking, you can’t take it anymore.

“Fuck!” You gasp as you come hard on his fingers. He gives your clit one last harsh suck before he brings his head up.

He licks his lips again and wipes everything else off with the back of his hand. He grins at you as he hovers over you. You grip his cock and pump it a few times before lining it up with your center. He slowly pushes inside you.

“Babe?”

“Yeah?” You look up at him with innocent eyes.

“Brace yourself.”

“Why?”

“M’gonna fuck you into this mattress.” Your eyes darken as your eyebrows raise. You nod and grip his shoulders.

Two hours later you return to Sarah and Niall’s. Both of you freshly fucked and happy. Niall was outside getting the grill started.

“He’s inside with Sarah, she said it was his nap time.”

“It is, she’s the best.” You say and go inside. Niall gives Harry a cheeky smile.

“Thanks.” He says. “Much needed time alone.”

“And you two wanna have another because…?” He jokes.

“I know it seems crazy to add more crazy to our lives, but we both really want it.” He steps a little closer to Niall. “She told me every time she sees me with Jack she practically wants to jump me to make another one.”

“Damn.”

You and Sarah come back out with a groggy Jack.

“Look who just woke up.” You coo.

“Hey, buddy.” Harry takes him from you and snuggles him close. “Wanna swim with Daddy after you wake up a bit?”

“Mhm.” Jack nuzzles in closer to Harry.

“Is that not the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?” You say to the group. “So sweet.” You kiss the top of Jack’s head.

“His curls are just like yours, Harry.” Sarah says.

Once Jack wakes up a little more, Harry brings him into the pool for a swim. You sit on the edge with Sarah, dipping your feet and calves in while Niall grills up lunch. Hearing Jack giggle while Harry would dip him in the water warmed your heart.

“He’s a really good, dad.” Sarah whispers to you.

“Yeah, he is.” You whisper back.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #my everything #take it slow sequel #harry styles fic #harry styles imgagine #harry styles series #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #pls tag if you reblog im begging you #also feedback in the form of asks is always appreciated #love you all so much!#can't believe it's really going to be over soon

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haikyuu-sickfics · 4 years

Text

Vomit warning!

Gah, the pacing of this is so out of wack and rushed, I hope it’s at least readable. Anyways, here’s the mass illness Inarizaki I mentioned

Shinsuke Kita was observant.

This was a known fact by everyone on the Inarizaki volleyball team. A fact reaffirmed time and time again whenever he sent a teammate home for showing even the smallest symptoms of illness or for limping ever so slightly to comfort an injury.

In short, he was known to not be a risk-taker when it came to health and wellness.

So why, pray tell, was he allowing a very visibly unwell Atsumu to remain on court, setting wonky balls and diving seconds too late.

The setter’s lackluster performance went unnoticed by no one- even the coaches were shocked at how this very clearly unwell Atsumu had remained unscolded by Shinsuke for so long.

Though a quick glance at the captain revealed why.

His skin was 5 shades paler than usual, bringing out the light pink flush dusting his cheeks. Perspiration, more than what was normal considering the lowkey practice today, glued his fringe down to his forehead.

Well, that explained a lot, Atsumu’s illness went unnoticed by Shinsuke because the latter appeared to be in a strikingly similar state.

Which was also unusual. One would think Shinsuke would be observant and careful of his own health, considering how involved he was in those departments for others. Though, it’s not too difficult to chalk that up to Shinsuke being so delirious that he didn’t even realize his own poor performance. Then again it could also be that that team was currently at a training camp hours away from Hyogo and not much could be done in terms of going home and resting even if one was sick.

So they let it slide, the coaches not doing anything more than sending cautious glances at the two uneasy boys and telling everyone to not push themselves too hard.

It was unsafe, reckless, and by this point, Aran had had enough of it.

“Kita, you’re not looking too good,” he finally spoke up, voicing the teams concerns.

“Yea you look like shit,” Michinari added, turning his attention away from Ren who was practicing his serves and ignoring Aran’s glare.

Shinsuke blinked. Then once more, his eyes wide and uncharacteristically clueless and fully unaware of the rest of the team stealing quick glances in his direction

“Hmm, what do you mean?” He cocked his head to the side, “is that mean to be an insult?”

“No no!” Aran quickly covered, giving Michinari a side-eye, “You just look like you could use a break, maybe get some water and rest.”

Shinsuke blinked again, now growing mildly aware of the fact that the players on the court were not-so-subtly staring at him.

“Yea, maybe you’re right,” Shinsuke finally admitted, swiping the back of his hand against his moist forehead.

“You too, Atsumu,” coach Kurosu added, calling over to the wobbly setter.

“Hah?!” he exclaimed, “Why me?”

Osamu sent him a look that said ‘are you seriously asking that question, you dense idiot’ to which Atsumu replied with a look that stated ‘yes, yes I am.’

After a second or two of the twins having a silent conversation, Aran took the situation into his own hands and ushered the two visibly sick players out of the gym and off into the room where the team’s futons were set up.

“Alright,” Michinari called out with a clap, “Now that they’re gone I’m the only third-year left, so I’m putting myself in charge.”

“What about me?” Ren interjected with a playful smile on his face, signaling his offense was fake.

Michinari looked over to him and smiled innocently before turning to the rest of the team and giving them various things to work on.

Practice continued relatively normal after that, Michinari called out far more inspirational cheers than usual to make up for the loss of the teams two captains.

Though, his enthusiasm died down drastically within 5 minutes. No one paid much mind to this, them all being too absorbed in their individual practice or worrying about the missing teammates. But Rin, who was well versed in Michinari’s seemingly endless enthusiasm, couldn’t help but to worry.

So he discreetly called out for Michinari’s attention, sending him a questioning face and a thumbs-up as his way of asking whether or not the libero was alright.

Michinari shut a thumbs up back, attempting a smile which only made Rin more nervous. The libero’s eyes were furrowed, giving his eyes a rather sad look. The smile resembled more of a grimace, accompanying his seemingly paler than usual skin.

Rin hurried to his friend, fully intent on taking him to the room where Shinsuke, Atsumu, and Aran were settled.

However, just as Rin was 3 steps away, a desperate voice yelled ‘Akagi-san!’ followed by a hollow thump as a volleyball bounced off Michinari’s chest.

Silence fell upon the gym as everyone’s eyes widened, glued on the now floored libero. No one moved, even Rin forget how to put one leg in front of another as Michinari coughed and gagged helplessly, his knees and the plans of his hands pressed against the hard floor.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a splash alerted the gym of Michinari’s heaves finally becoming productive. The awful sound powered Rin back up, a new sense of urgency overcoming him as he knelt down beside his friend and brushed his fringe away from his sweaty forehead.

“Bucket! Someone get a bucket!” A coach called out to the team.

“Ok let’s get out of here now,” Rin began, lightly trying to pull Michinari uo.

The latter shook his head, his cheeks puffed out to alert that he was not done yet. His back arched suddenly, his chin tucking slightly into his neck as sick worked it’s way up his throat.

Just as he was about to open his mouth, a second-year forced a bucket under his chin, holding it above the ground as to not soil the bottom with what was already on the ground. Michinari would’ve given them a thankful look, but intense nausea warned him that now was not the time.

Instead, a loud gag brought a thick wave of vomit splashing into the bin, followed by a couple coughs.

“Water?” Hitoshi offered, using his left hand to extend Michinari’s water bottle to him.

Michinari hummed, lifting his head out of the bin to accept the bottle. He then took a mouthful of water in his mouth and swished it around a bit before spitting it back out into the bin.

After a couple seconds of Michinari swishing out his mouth, he looked over to Rin and nodded. The latter nodded back, standing up and helping Michinari to his feet.

They walked out of the gym together, Michinari leaning heavily on Rin and holding the bin near his waist. Their steps were a bit awkward, a result of the height difference, but they made it work.

Across the gym, watching this ordeal with uncharacteristically wide eyes was Osamu. He had been feeling a little off ever since Atsumu had left, but chalked it up to nerves. It wasn’t unusual for Osamu to see Atsumu sick or hurt and feel the same symptoms, his mother called it a twin thing, but the severity of the symptoms were abnormal. And Michinari falling ill only added to the idea that maybe he wasn’t imagining the nausea churning in his gut and the excess saliva in his mouth.

“Are you okay, ‘Samu?” Rintarou asked, his hands shoved in his jacket pocket and voice deadpanned. It wasn’t that he wasn’t concerned for Osamu’s wellbeing, he just didn’t like expressing it.

“Mn-mn,” Osamu hummed in a negatory response, not feeling comfortable enough to open his mouth.

“Ok… um… do you wanna uh step outside or to where the other sick people are?”

Osamu shrugged, bringing a fist up to his mouth to stifle a burp.

“How about outside, I think air would be nice,” Rintarou stated, tugging at his own shirt collar to cool off his uncomfortably hot torso.

Osamu nodded, turning towards the large door to the outside and walking over slowly, Rintarou keeping pace slightly behind. The coaches ignored them, considering what had just happened moments ago, stopping two people from leaving to get air was a bad idea.

They only took two steps into the green grass outside before a loud retch forced its way out of Osamu. Rintarou looked over with wide eyes as Osamu slapped a hand over his mouth.

“You should probably,” he paused to gulp down his own nausea, “just let it out.”

Osamu looked over to Rintarou before nodding and removing the hand from his mouth. Saliva dripped out as Osamu leaned forward and let his mouth fall open.

A couple feet away, Rintarou was beginning to lose the battle with his own stomach. Instead of standing up like Osamu, Rintarou was crouched down, leaning over his knees which were pressed tightly against his chest. The position did nothing to help his nausea, the pressure actually only served to make him feel more sick.

Osamu lost it first, a sharp gag pressed against his stomach and forced out a small wave of vomit. The sound of it sent Rintarou over to edge, a much thicker wave splashing onto the grass between his feet.

“You’re sick too?” Osamu sputtered out before his body had a chance to revolt once more.

“No,” Rintarou commented sarcastically just before another heavy wave forced it’s way out of his mouth.

Osamu quickly turned his head away from Rintarou, seeing his friend get so violently ill didn’t do anything to help his situation.

“Poor Ojiro,” Osamu whispered-- if he and Rintarou were this sick he could only imagine how bad Shinsuke and Atsumu had it.

Atsumu curled into the bucket on his lap, coughing harshly in an effort to clear his throat from the acidic vomit clinging along its edges. Aran rubbed between his shoulder blades, warily eying Shinsuke who was sitting in a chair across the room unnaturally still.

A loud retch from Atsumu and the sound of liquid splashing in the bottom of the bucket stole Aran’s attention before he had a chance to ask if Shinsuke needed a bucket as well.

Atsumu groaned, hugging the plastic bin even closer to himself and coughed up another wave.

Aran winced in sympathy, not knowing what else to do other than continue to rub circles onto Atsumu’s back.

Across the room Shinsuke slowly stood up, his eyes containing their usual wideness and empty stare.

Aran didn’t think much of it.

He should have.

Without noise, Shinsuke leaned forward and opened his mouth. After one silent retch and a back arch, a wave of sick fell onto the floor.

It was so quiet that Aran didn’t even hear, not until Ren and Michinari walked through the door and pointed it out.

Aran groaned, Michinari laughed dryly, Ren whimpered, Atsumu coughed, Shinsuke threw up another wave.

“Rag. I’ll get a rag,” Ren informed, leaving the room.

“How many more?” Aran asked Michinari as the latter sat down.

Michinari shrugged, “Osamu and Rintarou looked kinda shitty but I did just puke on the floor so it’s hard to say.”

Aran nodded. Best situation was they caught whatever was going around early enough to keep it between the current people in the room. Worst situation was everyone got it-- an unlikely situation but one to consider nonetheless.

Ren returned, moist rag, cup of water and bucket in hand, and walked over to Shinsuke.

“Take a seat,” he commanded gently, guiding Shinsuke to a sitting position and handing him a bucket.

Shinsuke’s eyes were glazed with fever, he was far out of it and didn’t seem to be coming back any time soon. Ren set the glass next to him, making sure the latter saw it before walking over to Aran.

“How long has Atsumu been like that?” He asked as Atsumu spit out another wave.

“Why are you talking like I’m not even here?” Atsumu exclaimed with overexaggerated offense.

“You don’t seem to be in a situation to have a conversation,” Ren pointed out.

“How dare y-” a burp cut Atsumu off, forcing him to hang his head over the bucket once more.

Michinari laughed at him before his own nausea spiked and forced him over his bucket once more.

“He threw up in the hall on the way here,” Aran answered Rin’s earlier question, “been like this since. Shinsuke got sick just before you got here.”

Ren let his head fall back.

Today was going to be a long day.

#tw: vomit #tw: emeto #emeto #sickfic #haikyuu sickfic

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waejinyoung · 3 years

Text

Can’t Swim - EP . 8

Can’t Swim 8

word count: 3.2k+

a/n: you might be questioning where I have been for the past couple of months. I have one word to say that should be a good enough answer. College. I’ve been studying none stop and found no time to write the next episode after university started. The posts will no longer be regular so just keep yourselves updated. Hopefully I will have another 2 episodes up between now and the end of the year at least but don’t quote me on that. I hope you enjoy!

I’m deeply sorry for my absence again x

warnings: nothing

EP . 1 , EP . 2 , EP . 3 , EP . 4 , EP . 5 , EP . 6 , EP . 7 , EP . 8 , EP . 9

THIRD PERSON POV

The afternoon continued with Y/N and Jinyoung discussing life and getting to know one another whilst Y/N replied to her emails.

“It’s mind b-boggling how you and J-Jackson may have crossed paths back in 2012…” Y/N had just mentioned how she was training for the London 2012 Olympics to compete for swimming.

“Similar to Jackson, I switched career paths and decided to study architecture. Dad wasn’t the biggest fan until he saw the passion and success I had gained in the industry. He soon came to terms with everything.”

“Wow… do you r-regret it at all?” The clock marked 10:30 pm. You guys had been talking for the past 90 mins, getting to know each other.

“I think I regretted not swimming after deciding to study architecture. I didn’t choose to not compete in the Olympics because I no longer liked swimming so I do regret not continuing although I must say, studying architecture might be the most time consuming degree out there. That’s why later on I decided to apply to become a licensed swimming teacher to undergo lessons. I’d be teaching people how to swim whilst fulfilling my love for swimming.”

“Best of both w-worlds, r-right?”

“Exactly.” Y/N had now placed all her work to aside with her back against the wall, legs crossed enveloped into the conversation.

Some seconds went by and Y/N wanted to know about Jinyoung’s initial dreams.

“What about you? Did you always want to be a singer?”

“Always. I took up d-dance lessons when I was around 15. Then went to a-audition and got in to JYPE. That was when I met J-Jaebeom. We actually d-debuted together as a d-duo group called JJProject to later on d-debut with the r-rest of the g-guys as GOT7. Since t-then they’ve been my f-family rather than just my m-members. I think it’s g-getting to the p-point where I might have spent m-more years of my l-life with them then I did without. Time flies…”

“I could definitely sense the brotherly love you guys all have for each other. So how did becoming an actor happen?”

“I r-requested from the c-company to find roles I could take part in a couple years b-back. First it was small roles in small d-dramas and then being c-casted by more known d-directors to p-play bigger roles. All of that has l-led me to play s-second male lead for ‘When My Love Blooms’.”

“When do the episodes start airing?” Y/N had grown eager about Jinyoung’s talents.

“Hold your h-horses… we haven’t e-even started f-filming yet and won’t be until I r-recover… The original airing d-dates will probably be p-pushed f-further.” Jinyoung’s words drifted into a sudden realisation for his career.

“If only-“ Y/N was about to blame herself again.

“We’ve been through this m-multiple times Y/N. None of this is your f-fault so s-stop blaming yourself for t-things you have no c-control over.”

Y/N had her mouth open ready to retaliate but if she had to be honest… she couldn’t be bothered to fight back considering it was now coming up to 11:00 pm.

“Fine.” Y/N yawned and covered her mouth. Work had been extremely busy today especially with all the news floating around now.

“S-someone’s tired.” Jinyoung eyed Y/N’s tired state and decided to call it a night.

“I still have so much to do. I can’t fall asleep now.”

“C-could you n-not spare an e-early n-night just for t-today?” Y/N recollected her thoughts weighing up if she could possibly sleep early tonight and get all the work done tomorrow.

“I could…”

“Problem s-solved then. Clear up your b-bed and get your pjs on. I d-don’t want to f-face a t-tired Y/N tomorrow m-morning.” Y/N eyed your mean comment and huffed to your orders.

“Yes, sir.”

2 WEEKS LATER

Y/N’s POV

“Miss, Jinyoung has been recovering quicker than expected. He should be perfectly fine to attend the event. If anything unsettling happens you can give me a direct phone call.”

“Thank you so much Doc.” You gave the doctor a large smile and she reciprocated a reassuring smile.

You entered Jinyoung’s room with your outfit for the architecture awards festival along with you.

“Am I allowed to come?” Jinyoung asked as soon as you entered the room. You gave him a nod.

Jinyoung’s voice was more or less back to 100% and his eye had completed healed by the end of last week. There wasn’t much left until being fully recovered. Possibly parting from the hospital quicker than the original 2 months the doctor had estimated.

“I knew I’d get the green light. I even prepared my outfit because I was so sure I’d be able to come.” You hadn’t seen someone so ecstatic for an awards festival.

“As expected… I’m not even surprised. Will you be able to get dressed? Need any of my help?” Jinyoung was still a little instable since he’s been lying in bed for the past 2 weeks. His legs tend to give out for the first 30 mins.

“I think I can manage. I’ll get dressed quickly and then the bathroom is all yours.” You chuckled at his assumption that you’ll take really long in the bathroom for the event.

Jinyoung heads towards the bathroom and you are left there practising a speech you’ve written for all the awards you and your company have been nominated. This isn’t because you knew you were going to win any of them but… the unprofessional scenes if you guys were to win an award and to not have a speech ready daunted you. There was nothing wrong with being prepared.

15 MINUTES LATER

You must say… I don’t think you had ever laid eyes on someone so handsome in your life before. You could swear that this man was carved by God himself.

“How much deeper are you going to fall into my looks?” You hadn’t realised but you had been staring Jinyoung up and down for the past 30 seconds of him leaving the bathroom. Hair all styled. The suit was literally made for him. His cute bow tie was a little wonky leading you to let out a chuckle.

“What?” Jinyoung’s face turned serious thinking something was wrong with how he looked.

“Your bowtie is wonky.” You stood up from your seat and reached out to fix his bowtie. Your eyes were fixated in straightening the bowtie and all Jinyoung could do was analyse your face and how focussed you were.

“There you go. Looks better now.” You lightly let go off the tie and looked up at Jinyoung who was already staring right back at you. Those bambi eyes were going to be the death of you.

“Thank you. Now go and get yourself ready.” He pinched your nose and then you entered the bathroom with your dress, makeup bag and accessories.

20 MINUTES LATER

“Jinyoung~~” You called out for Jinyoung. You were done with everything but couldn’t reach the zipper on the back of your dress. You had been procrastinating on what to do and just gave up. There’s no way you could zip the dress up alone.

“Yes, Y/N. Is everything alright?” You could hear his footsteps come closer to the bathroom door.

“In a bit of sticky situation… could I ask you to do a favour?”

“Sure, what is it?” You went ahead and unlocked the door for him. He took a step back and couldn’t contain the sight in front of him. You were in a red bandeau strapless dress which had a structured skirt that was shorter at the front and longer at the back with. A very slight trail. Unsurprisingly your makeup was the bare minimum and you had left your natural hair out. His mouth was agape as you stepped out of the bathroom.

“How much longer are you going to stare for Mr Park?” He had been in the same awe you was when he had stepped out of the bathroom earlier on.

“Yes…right… the favour?” His soul re-entered his body trying to compose himself. You could only smile on the effect you had on the prince himself.

“I can’t reach my zipper, could you zip up the back of my dress for me?” You saw his cheeks blush a light pink below the thin layer of bb cream he had on. Without the zip done neither of you were going anywhere so he had to do it.

He wasn’t able to give a verbal response and just nodded. You turned around to have your back facing Jinyoung. He moved your hair to aside exposing half of your back to him. He was blushing so hard right now and was happy to have you facing away from him even though in a matter of seconds you’d be facing him seeing the shades of red planted on his cheeks. Jinyoung gently placed one hand on the zipper and the other hand on your back holding the fabric of your dress still. His fingers grazed your skin and they were a little cold leading you to jolt a little by the surprising cool touch. He notices.

“Did I hurt you?” His voice was a little worried. The slightest worrying reaction you make, and he’s so concerned. He’s too sweet.

“Nope, your hands are just a little cold that’s all.” You say whilst you chuckle.

He apologises with his soothing voice and zips up the dress, letting out a quiet done when finished.

You turn back round and thank him for his kind gesture. You also noticed the flush of his cheeks. He’s so cute, you thought. You quickly put your heels on and left Jinyoung’s patient room and entered the hall of the hospital. Expectedly, you guys received some stares and some whistles by the old women sitting outside their patient rooms. The event manager had organised a limousine to pick up each nominee for the awards hence why there was a lovely jet black limousine parked at the entrance of the hospital. The driver spotted you two and guided you the way and kept the door open for you two to enter the fancy vehicle. He ran back to the wheel and started driving towards the venue.

“Anything I need to know beforehand? Who should I present myself as?” Jinyoung had started with the questions during the car drive.

“Who’d you like to present yourself as Jinyoung?” You wanted to fish out his intentions from him.

“Preferably your boyfriend in order to stop those punks from hitting on you but I’d never want to force you into a relationship with me…” He side eyed you as he kept looking out the window. You so wanted him to be your boyfriend.

“Logical. Agreed. If anyone asks, you’re my boyfriend.”

“What an honour.” You slap his thigh due to his sarcastic tone.

“Whatttt? I’m serious. I’m going to be the boyfriend of an amazingly talented architect who’s bound to receive an award tonight. It’s a genuine privilege.” You could only look at him in awe as he described the so called ‘privilege’ he was taking part of.

“If you say so…”

The humming noise from the motor of the limousine was really calming but Jinyoung broke the silence once again.

“Are you nervous?” His tone was much deeper and serious compared to how he was a second ago.

“A little. These awards happen once a year and we’ve progressed so much as a company but so has everyone else in the industry. It’s hard to tell if we’ll be receiving the major validation from the institute. With or without the award tonight I’m so pleased with my company, but it would be nice to get a recognisable achievement for all our hard work.” Jinyoung listened to you as you let out your insecurities for the upcoming night.

“In the little amount of time I’ve met you, I think you’re the only person who deserves all the awards you’ve been nominated for this year. No one can change my thoughts and it’s going to be a pleasure to witness your achievement first hand. I can’t wait.” He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles trying to calm your nerves down. It was going to be a long night.

30 MINUTES LATER

Your limousine had rocked up to the red carpet laid out on the floor outside of the venue of the awards. You took a deep breath as the driver ran around to Jinyoung’s side of the limousine to let him out. Jinyoung agreed to open your door for you so he exited the vehicle first. Like he had planned, he went around to your side and opened the door for you to step out. The cameras started capturing every single moment as you wrapped your arm around Jinyoungs, and he gave you a reassuring nod. You gave him a smile and the two of you walked towards the entrance of the building slowly as you waved to the cameras and press greeting the two of you. The cameras were close to blinding, but you pulled through until reaching the entrance where the bodyguard escorted the two of you to your spaces in the main hall.

The building was full of white and gold decorations. You could definitely tell that the theme was highly influenced by Greek culture. The budget of the awards keep growing as the number of sponsors increase. The bodyguard escorted you to the table that Beck was already sat at with his fiancé. Beck realised your presence as well as Jinyoung. He stood up to give you a hug and shook Jinyoung’s hand. Beck’s fiancé shook both of your hands too and took your seats.

“The famous Mr Park. It’s nice to meet you in person. I’m Beck, the other shareholder.” Beck gave Jinyoung a warm smile.

“It’s nice to meet you to Beck. It seems like you already know of my name, but I’ll reiterate for the norm. My name is Park Jinyoung, you can call me just Jinyoung.” You let out a scoff because of how formal Jinyoung was being with Beck.

“He’s younger than you so you can ignore the formalities.” You said to Jinyoung and then Beck and him opened the conversation about age and their Chinese zodiac signs.

The evening began at 7:30 pm with the award winners due to be announced at 9:00 pm. Until then there was butterflies in your stomach ready to be set free any minute now.

Jinyoung came closer to your ear and whispered, “Loosen up a little. There’s no need to be this tense. Here hold my hand.”

Jinyoung offered his hand and you took it immediately as he gestured his open palm. Your hands were tiny compared to his manly hands. They encompassed all your digits giving you’re a sigh of relief because of the security they exerted. You let out a large sigh and continued with the discussions on your table with the new clients that were interested in your company. Having Jinyoung at the event really helped scare away the useless men who would only be interested in your physique and nothing more. His presence filtered out all the nonsense that would usually be taking place at the table.

The clock finally struck 9:00 pm and everyone went back to their designated seats in order for the awards to be presented. The event holder went through all the minor rookie awards to then move onto the company categories.

“Here are the nominees for Best Project of the Year.” The event holder signalled to the larger screen behind him as the nominees including your company are mentioned in no specific order.

“I was personally really fond of this project myself too. The meaning behind the design and the immense detail put into the façade really makes me excited for the future of this company. I’ll stop blabbing on and open the envelope.” You looked at Beck and then back at Jinyoung who was really eager to know the result.

“The award for Best Project of the Year goes to…” The event holder lifts the flap of the envelope and takes out the white sheet of paper inside. You hold your breath waiting for the result to be spoken.

“The Chamberlain project, designed and constructed by Chevrel Architects.” The whole community around your table started roaring and cheering for you and Beck to claim the award. That was one award written down in the books for Chevrel Architects, a company you and Beck had started years back. You and Beck had decided that if this award was given to you guys then he’d give the speech for it. Beck was the reason for the Chamberlain project happening and hands down you could state it was because of him the project turned out well. You, Jinyoung and everyone else in the hall stood up clapping as Beck walked up to the stage and shook hands with the event holder along with receiving the award. He then walked up to the mic and started his speech.

“I’d like to first start off with a large thank you to everyone at Chevrel Architects. The amount of hard work that was put into the Chamberlain project is indescribable, without everyone’s help it wouldn’t have been possible to achieve such a great outcome. I’d like to also thank Y/N for coming on this journey with me and trusting in me when I said that this company will create its own legacy. This is only the beginning…” Beck continued to thank more or less everyone he knew and came to an end with another roaring applause by everyone.

He jogged back to your table and you admired the award he placed on the table. You felt Jinyoung squeeze your hand in encouragement for you to realise how much you guys are capable of although he still knew you were a little iffy because the individual architect awards hadn’t been announced yet. You couldn’t help but smile at the gleaming object right before your eyes. Having received this award you doubted that another award would be given to someone of the same company.

Minutes went by and the event holder had reached the most awaited award of the night. Architect of the Year. You were surprised that you hadn’t left to use the restroom to throw up all this anxiety already. You were so ready to go home and relax. You wanted your normal heart rate back. You looked at Jinyoung and he gave you a look that melted your heart in seconds. He started massaging your knuckles with his thumb again and you could feel your body ease into his touch. The event holder for the last time of the night directs our attention to the screen for the listing of the nominees. Beck unfortunately wasn’t nominated so he was rooting for you to win the award.

“I know for many of you this is probably the most important part of the night. I’d like to first mention that to be able to be nominated for this award is ana achievement in itself so, you architects should all be proud of yourselves. It was a very hard decision that the committee made but we were able to make a decision. The award for Architect of the Year goes to…”

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I think it was mean of me to have ended this episode here, but it is 2:30 am right now as I write this episode. I hope you guys liked this episode. I shall be back somewhat soon so make sure to come back to check if an episode has been uploaded. Like always let me know your opinions on the story line and check out the other episodes if you haven’t. It would be nice to get some feedback :)

See you next time

writer-nim x

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thesnowinthemountains · 4 years

Text

NCT 127 helping you study

(a/n: i did my best but i apologize in advance if there are inaccuracies in certain fields of study, i also acknowledge that the lengths of these are hella inconsistent. oops.)

Taeil

He thought it would be a good idea to have music playing in the background while you tried to study. Tried. You kept getting distracted by a particularly good lyric or interesting instrumental arrangement until you were eventually about to crawl out of your skin. He was sitting across from you at the dinner table, your papers scattered everywhere, scrolling through his phone.

“Taeil, turn that off please.” You said it softly.

“No.”

You look up at him now.

“What do you mean ‘no’? Yes. Turn that off,” you laugh it off, but you’re the slightest bit annoyed. This is one of the biggest exams you’ll have this semester, and if you don’t straight up ace it, you’ll be struggling for the next few weeks. He shakes his head.

“Taeil-”

“I read somewhere that if you can associate sounds or music to words, it helps to memorize them. I’m trying to help.”

“Oh.” You pause. “Well, maybe try it again later, for now I don’t even have my definitions down.”

He finally looks at you.

“Fine.” The music stops and you fall back into a peaceful silence.

Johnny

“Alright, who painted ‘Composition with Red, Blue and Yellow’?”

“Mondrian. Come on, at least give me something difficult, I’m trying to pass this final,” you whine, head hanging over the side of your bed. Johnny sits at your desk across the room.

“Okay, how about some added incentive?” Your study sheet falls from his face and you realize you haven’t actually looked at him in about a half hour.

“Yes?” You lean up onto your elbows.

“Every answer you get right now is a kiss you’ll get later.” He cocks his head. You don’t even have to think about it.

“Deal! Come on, next question.” You plop back down. A few minutes later, after a lightning round of names and dates, colours and details, you sit up to find him writing on your notes.

“What are you doing? Those are important.” You frown.

“I’m keeping a tally so I don’t forget one later. We are at...” He smirks without looking up and counts his marks on the page. “Seven, so far.”

“Ah,” you blush, “carry on, then.” You think to yourself there’s no way in hell you’ll ever be able to focus on that particular page of notes again.

Taeyong

You were supposed to memorize the entire periodic table and you were absolutely overwhelmed at the prospect. This was one of those moments you wished you had some superhuman photographic memory that would require minimal effort on your end. Taeyong had you study piece by piece over a long period of time. At first, you hadn’t even noticed he was doing it - he was being sneaky.

“Hey, what’s the first row of the periodic table?”

“That’s a weird question.”

He shrugged.

“I don’t know, I just had a weird flashback to science class in high school, it was up on a wall next to my desk. I think it starts with helium, right?”

“Hydrogen and helium, technically, yeah, but that’s not really how they’re grouped.” You explained.

“Oh? So how are they grouped?”

“Well, you’ve got your metals, halogens, stuff like that.”

“Huh. And what are they?”

That’s when you started to catch on. You cocked your head at him.

“Which ones? There are a few different types of metals.”

“Well, whichever.” He shrugged, still playing his part perfectly.

Yuta

It wasn’t an exam, per se, but you had to put together a final portfolio for an art class, one you hated. It was supposed to be basic drawing techniques, but the professor was all over the place; not all that surprising for an art professor, but still annoying to follow. You were sitting on your living room floor, papers strewn everywhere, barely knowing where to begin. You had a drawing of a flower that was nice and simple, you had gotten the shading right, you liked it enough. One was of a hallway; same deal, the technique was alright, you set it aside, but you had to pick a total of ten drawings. You had dozens, some of the same thing over and over again because you, or the professor, were never satisfied. When Yuta walked into the apartment and found you in that state, he started by sitting quietly beside you on the floor.

“What are we doing?” He murmured after a minute.

“Freaking out.”

“I see. Anything I can help with?”

You didn’t answer, but held up a decent-enough drawing of a hand.

“Do you think the details on this are okay?” You asked. He looked at you and then the drawing. He liked pretty much anything you did, but he knew you needed brutal honesty if you were ever going to be finished with this. He took a long, deep breath.

“So, the index finger on this one looks a little wonky, I think this one,” he reached for another drawing of a hand, “has better lines, better dimensions. All the fingers are good.”

“Oh, I hate the thumb on that one, though…”

He shrugged.

“This one?” He picked a drawing of a desk under a window. “The light looks really cool.”

Doyoung

For your final assignment, you were to make a long, detailed marketing proposal to your class. If it was picked up, you passed, if not, you had an opportunity for a do-over, and a private presentation to the professor alone. You didn’t want the second option, you had other things to do after passing this class that did not include a one-on-one meeting with your middle-aged professor some time after the end of classes. You had been reciting the whole thing to yourself for days, you had prepared a PowerPoint presentation and a ton of visuals to aid you, but you needed a second opinion. You had gone out with Doyoung a handful of times, you both figured it was a matter of time before things between you were made official, so you had him over, sat him down, and launched into your presentation. At the end, you took a breath, then asked:

“How was that?”

He gaped at you.

“Well, hot, we’ll start there.”

“No, Doyoung, I meant would you go for this idea if you were the CEO of something?”

“Honestly, yeah. You made some good points, you had valid, real reasons for what you wanted to do and how you wanted to market this thing. I think it works.” He shrugged.

“You’re a business major, you better not be bullshitting me.”

“You’re a marketing major, you could probably tell if I was.”

Jaehyun

You had given Jaehyun a key to your apartment months ago. He let himself in regularly, and a lot of the time, he was there when you got home from school or work. This time, though, he walked in to you sitting on your living room floor, laptop on the coffee table, facing the couch. There was paper all over the floor, some crumpled, some ripped, some simply abandoned. He had to tiptoe and side-step all the way to you. Your hair was a mess, which he would’ve found endearing if your eyes hadn’t been bloodshot.

“What are you doing?”

You nearly jumped out of skin, startled.

“Fuck, when did you get here?” You asked, eyes wide.

“Just now. You know you have a desk.” He nodded to the wooden furniture in the far corner of the room. You sighed.

“I couldn’t sit there anymore, I was going out of my mind.”

“Well, what are you doing?” He asked again, picking up notes on the couch to sit, facing you.

“My final portfolio for my fiction class is due tomorrow and I haven’t worked on anything in weeks.”

“You’re always writing.”

“Yeah, I’m always writing, but I had two of these stories workshopped months ago and I hadn’t looked at them since. God, they needed so much work, Jaehyun, I can’t believe I actually submitted that. Plus, I was missing a good ten pages for the portfolio, which I’ve written now, thank god, but I have so many drafted versions, I don’t know which one I want. I wrote seven different endings. I’m not even sure about my characters’ names. Or if I want them to be named, nothing’s coming out like I want it, I don’t know what I’m going to do-”

“Okay, slow down, slow down,” he moved to sit on the floor now, facing you at eye level. “How long have you been writing?”

You looked down at the time on your laptop. You frowned, confused.

“That can’t be right.”

“When’s the last time you ate?”

“There’s no way-”

“Alright, go take a nap, I’ll order some food.”

Winwin

“I need you to play judge.” You told Sicheng.

“Judge?”

“Yeah, sit,” you placed him at the center of the couch, and looked around before handing him a spoon. “Tap that on the table if you need to interrupt me.”

He stared at the spoon.

“Isn’t that for weddings?”

“So, I’m basically defending a client accused of theft and-”

“Don’t I get, like, case notes or something?”

“So demanding.” You rolled your eyes but went for your notes. He looked them over for a few minutes before leaning back comfortably.

“Proceed.” He declared, voice loud and clear. You smiled before launching into everything you prepared for your final. He did a fine job of rebutting if possible and interrupting when necessary, though you had to stop him from objecting! about anything he disagreed with.

Jungwoo

As an education major in your first year, your big final assignment was to prepare an elementary-level language class to teach your fellow university-level education major peers. To prepare, you had Jungwoo come over and told him he’d be playing the role of a seven year old, which pleased him.

“I’m a baby, you know that. This is perfect,” he grinned, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you.

“Yes, now shut up, we’re learning vowels.” You said in your regular voice before switching to the over-enunciated, slightly higher-pitched voice of a first or second-grade teacher.

Mark

“How’s the essay going?” Mark asked, coming into your dorm room. He plopped down on your bed behind you.

“Well, so… get this,” you swiveled around in your chair to face him, leaving behind you a handful of novels, two different notebooks, and your phone open to pictures of your friends’ notes. “I’m supposed to write a compare-and-contrast essay about James Joyce and Samuel Beckett, of all people.”

“Is that so bad?”

“Mark, have you ever read Beckett? It’s like an acid trip in slow motion. You finish it, you have straight up no clue what you just read, but now you have to write about it.”

He frowns.

“And that other guy?”

“Joyce? He’s okay, I’m just glad writing about Ulysses isn’t a requirement. There are just certain things I’m not willing to put myself through.”

“Well, mind if I keep you company?” He leans back on your bed.

“Go ahead, just try not to distract me too much, I want to get this done today.”

“You won’t even know I’m here.” He puts his headphones in and lies back against your pillow.

Haechan

This boy had arranged a whole game night just for you. He had friends over, set up a whole tournament bracket in which he was, of course, your partner, and he made sure even if you didn’t end up winning, you would end up learning, memorizing, and having fun getting ready for your most dreaded final. Food was ordered, drinks were made, and finally everyone involved in this evening was sat around the dinner table, in a heated trivia competition.

Some days later when your exam came around and you saw the first questions, your mind flashed back to Haechan shouting the answer at the top of his lungs and standing up so fast his chair fell backwards. It had been a ridiculous, slightly stupid idea, but damn if it hadn’t worked like a charm.

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harringroveficarchive · 4 years

Text

Flowers for Yikes!

Steve stands outside of…Atomic Midnight Tattoos…preparing for his demise. He breathes in, then out, and opens the door of the parlour. As he walks inside, he is greeted with a smile by a lady that looks suspiciously like Connie Marble. “Hi, welcome in! Do you have an appointment with one of our artists?” Steve reaches the counter and says “I-I don’t, sorry.” He’s never been to a tattoo parlour before. He doesn’t know the procedures; he’s only aware of the pain factor from stories his friends have shared. “No need to apologise, it’s alright. I’ll ask and see if any of our artists have free time for a flash tattoo appointment. Be right back.”

Steve waits for a second, looking around the parlour with it’s red on (darker) red damask wallpaper, and the wooden baseboards and door frames painted black. He admires the chrome chandelier above him and especially loves the exotic plants decorating some corners of the shop. When “Connie” returns, Steve stops his prying and gives her a hopeful look.

“Hurricane Bill isn’t busy at the moment. Would you like to see examples of his work? Or just book now..?”

Hurricane Bill? What kind of fucking name is that? “No, it’s alright. We can just book now. It’s…it’s not a big deal of a tattoo, so I’m sure Bill’s skills will do.” He hates that the last part rhymed a little.

The lady in red chuckles behind her hand and tells Steve to fill out a release form while his tattoo artist prepares and sets up his work station.

As Steve returns the release form, he hears the sound of rubber soles approaching on his left.

“Harrington?”

Steve turns quickly to see the owner of the boots, and time suddenly stops.

“Billy?!”

A chuckle.

“Yeah, it’s me…don’t cream your pants.” Billy winks at Steve.

“Oh god…” Steve’s face flushes and he covers it with his pale hands.

“What are you doing here?” (‘Connie’ leaves to the back, giving these two idiots some space.)

“Well…what do you think?” One hand remains on Steve’s face.

“I never expected to meet you here…”

“What? I can’t get a tattoo?”

“No, I mean I never expected to see you in CALIFORNIA.” Billy holds his arms across his chest.

“Oh…well Robin and I just opened business here and-”

“Woah! Wait, wait…come into my room and you can tell me all about it while I sketch, yeah?”

And so Billy leads Steve into his “studio” and closes the door behind them. Billy gestures for Steve to sit on the dentist-looking chair, and Billy takes a seat on a rolling chair next to him, quickly fetching for his sketchbook. The room is small, but looks efficient and organised. There’s many drawers; hygienic products and ink on some shelves; a sink; a few photos framed over the eggplant painted walls; and some potted succulents scattered here and there. There’s also a small bookcase that catches Steve’s eye, and a fancy lamp on one of the corners.

“So, what are you looking to get tattooed today?” Billy grabs a pencil from his desk.

“Well…” Steve starts nervously. “I kind of lost a bet and-”

“Oh no.” Billy lowers the sketchpad to his lap.

A beat.

“I have to get ‘DINGUS’ tattooed and…” Steve trails off, a shade redder than he was before.

“Like…the word DINGUS…on your dingus?” Billy teases with a smirk plastered on his face as he ties his hair back into a bun.

“What? No! That would be…inappropriate.” And there Steve goes placing his hands to his face again.

Billy doesn’t say anything and just waits for Steve to tell him more about this horror-piece of a tattoo idea.

“It…it has to be a tramp stamp.” he says in a very wonky, very unsure tone and looks down the whole time, obviously embarrassed.

“Oh…ok, no. I’m not doing that. That makes me uncomfortable.” Billy gets up and puts his sketchpad away. He seems tormented by the situation and Steve just “What? What do you mean? It’s just-”

“Steve, I don’t care if you lost a bet.” He looks back at Steve. “Hell, is your friend…Robin?” Steve nods once. “Is Robin at least paying for the tattoo?”

“Well, no, I lost the bet so I-”

“No, fuck that shit. I’m not fucking up your beautiful body that way.” He begins to remove his jacket. “Do you trust me?”

“What? N-not really …I haven’t seen you in years its-”

“Wow…ouch.” Another beat. “No here-” Billy takes Steve’s left arm and places it over Steve’s head. “Just trust me. Keep your arm here for me. I’m going to lower the upper part of the chair…just sit still.” Billy fiddles with the bottom of the chair and Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t panicking a little. Suddenly Billy grabs at his shoulders and gently brings Steve’s head down on the chair. He gives him a pillow to lay his pretty head on and Steve is still nervous…but also, Billy just fucking called him beautiful. He doesn’t know what to expect anymore, but he also doesn’t want to get up and leave. As scared as Steve feels in the moment…he’s also immensely curious to see what Billy is up to.

Billy gets some sharpies and a disposable razor from one of his many drawers. He presses play on his boombox and Kashmir by Led Zeppelin begins to play from the speakers just audible enough to be comfortable. Billy then shaves the back of Steve’s forearm, and then starts free-handing some design on his arm. Steve can see nothing; he’s not allowed to. He only feels the smooth tip of the markers making delicate lines on his skin, and it almost feels…seductive.

“So tell me about this business of yours. I’m intrigued.” Billy asks while he continues to mark Steve’s arm.

Steve actually smiles at that…Billy’s interest makes him feel more at ease. “It’s a flower business! It’s actually right across the street from this shop.”

“Oh, no way! That’s you guys? We saw the establishment come to life little by little. It looks like a very homey shop. Congrats.”

“Thank you! We’re very proud of it. Robin and I just opened last week and so far everyone’s been so nice and supportive.”

“Is Robin your girlfriend?” Billy asks nonchalantly, but with a hint of worry at the VERY back of his voice.

“Noooo.” Steve says with an almost brooding tone. “Robin is my best friend and nothing more than that…”

Billy scoffs at that statement and tries to lighten the mood after Steve’s tone. “Hmm…yeah sure…because friends can’t be real best friends unless they make you get tramp stamps across the street. Is she cackling over there, or how come she didn’t come witness the glory of her suggestions?”

“Well she went out of her way to restock some flowers today…she’s expecting the tramp stamp when she arrives and now…I don’t know what to tell her.”

“That’s alright. I can talk to her if you’d like…” Billy scribbles at the bottom of Steve’s forearm. “I won’t miss adding DINGUS on this fucker anyways.” He continues sketching.“So why flowers?”

“Well, I’ve always been very attracted to flowers…they’re just so pretty, and plants are SO interesting! Robin has also told me I have an eye for detail. Flower arrangements are a great way to combine my skill and passion.”

“That’s admirable. Say…do you think I can swing by your shop, and request a special bouquet for my girlfriend after our session?” Billy smiles, even if Steve can’t see it.

“Sure!”Steve tries to sound enthusiastic, but waits a little before adding with another brooding tone“…you have a girlfriend?”

Billy chuckles. “Nah! Mag is my best friend. She has a girlfriend though! And I’m pretty sure they’d love to have some flowers in the apartment. It’s been a while…”

“Huh…funny how both of our best friends are lesbians.” Steve makes a remark, and Billy rolls his eyes but manages to crack a laugh anyways.

“Hmm…yeah, a little weird. Alright, I’m done sketching and-NO! No no…you can’t look!” And Steve pouts a little when Billy grabs and keeps his arm over his head.

Billy then starts to prep the tattoo machine. He grabs some black latex gloves and brings his small table with ink caps closer. “Alright Stevie, I’m coming in. Are you ready?”

But Steve is still stuck at the fact that Billy just called him Stevie. “Umm…” and then he catches on. “Ready…yeah, sure. Let’s do this.”

“Alright. Remember to just keep breathing, and if it gets too uncomfortable…count to 10, focus on your breathing, or talk to me! I want to make this a comfortable experience for you. Wait…is this your first tattoo?” Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd washes over the sudden silence.

“It…it is.” Steve’s eyes narrow a little at the corners.

“Oh wow…a virgin amongst us. Well, it’s a pleasure to be your first.” Billy winks at Steve as he cuts some paper towels from the roll. “Okay here we go.” And Billy’s needle starts buzzing and comes in contact with Steve’s arm. He drags the machine across, and Steve feels a ticklish kind of pain. He’d heard people compare the pain to cat scratches, but Steve’s never been scratched by a cat…He begins to think it might not be as painful as people make it out to be?

“Why don’t you tell me more…I want to catch up with your life. What have you even been up to?” And Steve is touched by Billy’s generous gesture to learn about his life. So they talk through the session, learning what things have changed and what has remained the same since high school; and it almost feels surreal that they’re able to talk as if they’d just seen each other yesterday. Getting the lineart done was a breeze, and the random moments of silence were brief. Somewhere down the line though, Billy feels a ragged breath coming from Steve the third time he comes in to apply colour.

“C’mon, Steve…deep breaths now.” The room tenses a little, and in the air you only hear Steve’s panting, followed by Billy’s constant “I’m sorry” mumbles and “breathe, breathe” or “You’re doing great!” but Steve still seems in discomfort. “Would you like a break? I can give you 5 minutes if you need them.”

Steve seems in a bit of a daze, and he doesn’t give Billy a reply, so he gets worried. He places his machine down and removes his latex gloves to fetch Steve a cup of water.

“Can I trust that you won’t peek at your tattoo?” Billy asks in a delicate voice, and gets nothing but a soft nod from Steve. Billy takes this opportunity to flip his mixtape over, and goes outside the room for the water. When he returns, Steve has kept his left arm over his head like a good boy. He also has placed his right arm over his soft tummy and brought his legs up, dirtying up the chair with his sneakers. Steve looks comfortable and so inviting with that pair of forest green shorts, making Billy’s heart skip a beat.

“Is the water for me? Hellooo…”

Steve’s sudden preppier tone brings Billy back to, and he apologises nervously. “Sorry, you…you’re too distracting with your handsome face and… your… everything.”

Steve isn’t taken aback by the comments anymore. He’s getting more and more comfortable around Billy, and so he puts his right arm out to take the water from him. Steve takes a few gulps and Billy presses play on his mixtape before getting a fresh pair of latex gloves. “We’re about halfway through…do you think you can take some more pokes for me?” Steve holds the paper cup between his teeth, no hand required.

“Okaaaay” he mumbles through the cup in a childish tone that makes Billy smile.

“Hey…I know what will take your mind off the pain. Why don’t you tell me about your favourite flowers?”

And so Steve lightens up and starts to tell Billy about Cyclamens, Hydrangeas, and Gazanias. Of how much he adores Daffodils, Gardenias and Lilies the best. He doesn’t miss mentioning how much he loves the colour of Lilacs and Caucasian pincushions, as well as his current obsession with adding Baby’s-Breath to every arrangement he makes.

Billy doesn’t fail to chime in about his love of Delphiniums, Irises and Penny Blacks…

“I also like those, ummm…what do they call them? Ace of Spades?”

“Oh! The ones with all the tiny buds in deep red?” Steve still holds the empty paper cup in his right hand. “That’s a good pick! You probably would also like Passifloras.”

“What are those?”

“The crazy purple ones with-…geez, I don’t know how to describe them. Maybe I should just show you?”

“I would like that very much!” It almost felt like Steve was no longer in pain! So they continue talking and they both comment on the amazingness of succulents; they agree that water lilies are great and that magnolias are precious flowers that should definitely be in the flower arrangement for Billy’s best friends back in his apartment. At some point Steve sheds a few tears because apparently flowers make him very happy…and Billy thinks he might be mixing his emotions with the pain of his pokes…but he can’t help to find Steve crying over flowers to be extremely endearing, and it makes him smirk like crazy.

When Billy is done, he sprays water on Steve’s arm and wipes away with a paper towel, like…twice too many times, Steve thinks, because honestly…that shit stings!

“Okay champ, you can have a look now!” Billy says enthusiastically as Veterans of the Psychic War by Blue Öyster Cult nears its end.

He helps Steve get up from the chair, and guides him to the mirror on the wall. Steve is extremely nervous; what if Billy just did some crazy, but very meticulous lettering work for the word DINGUS all across the back of his forearm? He did say the word dingus would be there…he just didn’t want to make it into a tramp stamp…apparently. But throughout this journey Steve realised that he’d gained an immense trust in Billy.

Billy, who had once beat the living daylights out of his face, now made him feel so safe and comfortable throughout the pain of this tattoo…he couldn’t possibly have fucked-

Oh.

Steve stands in front of the mirror, gasping into his right hand. He has no words…he’s frozen. Billy stares at Steve, then at the tattoo, and back to Steve.

Steve brings his left arm across his chest and glides his eyes over the neo-traditional dagger that decorates his arm. He traces his gaze from the tip of the blade to the handle…and marvels at the sight of the flowers wrapped on the handle, gracing near his elbow. Billy notices Steve looking at the flowers; their deep purple shade making a lovely contrast on Steve’s skin tone, and says,

“I wanted to make a homage to your new flower business, and Orchids are my favourite flowers so I…” he drops his comment at the sight of tears in Steve’s eyes.

“Oh, Steve please don’t cry. You’re being a baby, just-” Steve has now enveloped Billy in a tight hug, and he doesn’t know what to say. Billy just eases into the hug and pats Steve’s back. He’s very glad to see Steve is content with the outcome of his work. Above all, he’s also secretly VERY glad to see Steve again.

Back at the front counter, Steve complains that Robin will punch him because the word DINGUS is only a shade darker than the stems of the Orchid; and SOOOO TINY.

“Just send her over to punch me. Guess I’m to blame for not respecting the bet.” They both giggle nervously and stand timidly around. Parting is such sweet sorrow…and neither one of them knows how to break that ice.

“So…” Steve finally begins again. “How much do I owe you?”

Billy chuckles a little. “Oh, right. Well, how about you pay for my dinner? I half-assed your original tattoo design anyways.”

“Oh…no, I insist. What you did is so beautiful…I must pay full price.”

“Right…” Billy says assertively. “Pay for my very expensive dinner at the fanciest, most overpriced restaurant we can find, and we can call it even Steven” And they both just burst out laughing.

“Alright, it’s a date then.” Steve smiles, and Billy flutters his eyelashes at him, leaning forward and placing his arms on the counter.

“Can I get my private tour of your flower shop now, pretty boy?” Billy winks at Steve and that makes him blush like crazy. In his flushed panic, he looks down and catches a glimpse of Billy’s arms on the counter. He notices a dagger tattoo on the back of his right forearm, and Steve melts for a second.

The next time he sees Billy inside his flower shop again, there’s a pair of white lilies adorning the handle of his dagger, making Steve melt twofold. Lilies are Steve’s favourite flower.

#xgardensinspace #fluff #soft #au #submission

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roadtohadestown · 5 years

Text

hadestown thoughts n’ things song-by-song

Y’ALL KNOW I SAW HADESTOWN A COUPLE DAYS AGO AND I GOT SOME THINGS TO SAY !!! these aren’t gonna be me fully describing how the songs play out (a couple times yes, but not from start to finish), but are me pointing out little things that i found very memorable or funny or were little “OH SHIT” kinda moments.

(i’ll also be referring to the characters by their actors every now and then)

occasionally i’ll refer to the fates individually by their actual names (clotho, lachesis, atropos); if you don’t know which actresses play who:

yvette -> clotho // kay → lachesis // jewelle -> atropos

———

ACT 1

road to hell:

the cast came out all at once and i swear my heart JUMPED when i saw them enter and wave at the audience !!!!

andré came in walking slowly over to his usual spot on stage right. while walking, he was holding the hands of some of the cast who were sitting at the tables.

the fates snapping a sassy look at hermes when he says “three old women all dressed the same.”

introducing orpheus, orpheus is literally a happy ball of sunshine running onstage, holding a red rag and a crate and starts wiping down the tables.

when hermes introduces eurydice, orpheus and eurydice bump into each other at the center of the stage. they stare at one another for the rest of road to hell and it’s so so cute and enchanting. sitting on orchestra left, i was just watching orpheus’s face, so awestruck and in love.

any way the wind blows:

fuck i am so gay for the fates

eurydice’s “anybody got a match ??” and hermes holding out a matchbox to her. she snatches it and says “gimme that.”

eurydice lighting the candle and clotho blowing it out.

lachesis gracing a hand on eurydice’s hair (and i forget at which lyric because my mind is Like That and Forgetful)

come home with me:

eva casually dragging her hand back and forth above the flame, playing with it because she’s not really the focus of the scene and needs something to do while reeve’s busy crumpling a newspaper to make a flower for her

hermes saying, “orpheus......don’t come on too strong”

and orpheus—directly after hearing hermes say that—says to eurydice, “coMe hOmE wITh ME !!!” featuring reeve’s wonky movements that make orpheus seem awkward, which is just plain cute

at one point, he sits on the table beside her

hermes taking the candle from eurydice’s hands and placing it aside on another table. this candle stays lit for a lot of act 1, then is later blown out because we need Metaphors and Symbolism

i love that eurydice crumples up orpheus’s paper flower, then stuffs it in her pocket

wedding song:

damn i love eva and reeve

damn i love this ensemble

damn that flower is red

epic i:

once hermes says “sing it again though” and hands orpheus his guitar, orpheus straps it on. he takes a little moment of silence before he starts singing—like he’s trying to prepare himself first. in that moment, he’s actually just staring at eurydice and smiling because he loves her so much—

livin’ it up on top:

I LOVE THE FATES AND THEIR FANS !!! EVEN THEY’RE SUPER HAPPY THROUGHOUT LIVIN’ IT UP

WHEN PERSEPHONE COMES BACK FROM HADESTOWN, ORPHEUS IS SO GIDDY !!! YOU COULD SEE HIM SMILING LIKE CRAZY AND HE’S A LITTLE JUMPY BECAUSE HE’S SO EXCITED SEPH’S HERE !! HE’S LIKE AN EXCITED LITTLE PUPPY !!! HE WAS SO EAGER TO TAKE HER COAT TOO !!!

orpheus juMP

he was literally throwing a couple silver cups to hermes (who caught them)

there were cute little john and eva moments, with john dancing around her at one point

persephone tried to shove eurydice in with the dancing ensemble to get her to join, but eurydice walked away waving her hands and awkwardly smiling as if saying, “no thanks, i’m not gonna do that,” (but obviously later persephone successfully drags eury into dancing, and she’s wonderful at it)

when hermes said “let the poet bless this round!” ahmad, while holding one of the wine bottles, puts his hands up as if to say “alright, he can do it”

after orpheus gave his speech and they drank from their cups, hermes actually coughed—like the wine was just too much for him asjhsnsj

all i’ve ever known:

persephone’s onstage during the little hermes introduction bit. when he mentions orpheus and eurydice, seph holds out her arms to each of them as he does (as if indicating who’s who) before sitting down at the side to watch the two lovers.

orpheus takes off his apron (finally), revealing him in full with his nifty suspenders 😩💕

when eurydice said “now i wanna hold you too,” she was frantically moving her hands, grabbing different parts of orpheus’s arms

that sex scene was beautiful (IT’S JUST A GRACEFUL INTIMATE DANCE BETWEEN THE TWO AND IT’S PRETTY !! ESPECIALLY WITH THE LIGHTING)

mwah

way down hadestown:

orpheus and eurydice dancing around as everyone sings about hades and hadestown (spoiler: they’re cute)

as hades and persephone descend, smoke comes out of the pit, and the ensemble is leaning in to look down there. ahmad’s in front of all of them—leaning too—but also has his arms outstretched to his sides, keeping everyone else back. they all eventually break apart, and honestly the thing i most remember is just afra with her knees on the table and her hands gripping the edges of the table, too, to peer down into the pit.

gathering storm:

me, watching afra hand eurydice her coat

orpheus takes out his tiny notebook and pencil from his pocket and goes to the side to start writing in it, because he “needs to finish the song”

eurydice clutching her arms as she says “we need food.......we need firewood.....”

“okay, finish it...”

she goes over to orpheus and places a hand on his arm, then leaves

epic ii:

AW HELL YEAH, THEY BROUGHT BACK THE “doubt that she’d ever come, dread that she’d never come, doubt that his lover would ever come back” LYRICS !!

orpheus uses present tense instead of past tense !!! it’s now “he thinks of his wife in the arms of the sun” instead of “he thought of his wife in the arms of the sun” and etc.

chant i:

the workers’ choreo is so mesmerizing. SO MESMERIZING.

reeve sings the la la la’s differently than the broadway preview audio i heard before, and i LOVE how he sings it now. his ending “la la la la la la” leads into the workers’ “low, keep your head, keep your head low” and oh my god i am so in love with that

“is it finished !?” eurydice asks hermes. “not yet,” hermes replies. she asks “is he always like this !?” and he nods.

hermes is now narrating in third-person about how orpheus is ignoring the storm rather than speaking to orpheus directly

i really don’t know how i feel about eva going lower when she sings “harbor me.” in the past she’s went higher; and because i used to hear that all the time, now that she‘s going lower my mind‘s thinking “c’mon, you can go higher !! i know you’re capable of it.” but regardless, eva’s voice is still the most beautiful thing i’ll ever hear 😩💓

the way the fates snatch away eurydice’s backpack and coat is so elegant, yet cool and pitiful

EVA I HOPE YOUR KNEES ARE OK FROM THAT FALL. I KNOW YOU DO IT EVERY NIGHT, BUT STILL.

hey little songbird:

hades casually putting on his shades

patrick’s juicy low notes are to die for

“see how the vipers and vultures surround you” reveals the three fates making their way closer to eurydice

when the chips are down (intro):

the little coin ( / ticket to hadestown ) hades gives eurydice

the way eurydice holds up both the flower and coin in the air as if contemplating which to choose

when the chips are down:

yvette, please step on me

kay, please step on me

jewelle, please step on me

please. step on me.

gone, i’m gone:

shoutout to andré off to the side making all the necessary sound effects.

hermes jingles a coin bag until eurydice comes up and puts her coin (“ticket”) in the bag, indicating she’s boarded the train to hadestown.

cue andré blowing the little flute thing to imitate a train whistle. again, thank u for ur sound effects.

wait for me:

orpheus finally looking up from his tiny notebook with a smile on his face, as if he’s happy that he’s made progress on his song and wants to tell that to eurydice. but when he looks up, he sees hermes from afar instead and (still with an innocent smile) exclaims “mr. hermes !!” before going up to him. (unlike the london production, he doesn’t look around searching for eurydice first before encountering hermes.)

orpheus drops to his knees as he says “no...” during his convo with hermes

the workers shining the lights around like they’re search lights is so COOL

THE FOG !!!

the lights actually swinging over people’s heads in the first row. wow. just,, wow.

FATESFATESFATESI’MSOGAY

THE SET OPENING UP !!! I KNEW IT WAS GONNA HAPPEN, BUT DAMN THAT WAS SO MUCH MORE EPIC IN REAL LIFE

the way reeve jumped off the platform !!! TBH KINDA HOT

i was watching him run along the turntable and it was an awkward little run LOL

“I’M COMING WAIT FOR ME !!!!!” “WAIT” “I HEAR THE WALLS REPEATING !!!” that scene was so GOOD and MUCH MORE INTENSE IRL !!!

i loooOOOVED the way the workers turned their lights at each “WAIT !!”

why we build the wall

the workers retreat to the sides of the stage and hades comes in. they’re so stiff just standing there and singing and i’m like—well fuck.

the saLUTE !!! it’s literally just them putting an index finger up, bUT STILL. FUCK.

eurydice looks around to see everyone saluting, and eventually joins in with them and does it too

the way amber dramatically turns around with her arms swinging about, pauses, then says, “anybody wanna drink?”

ACT 2

our lady of the underground:

“SSSSSSTEP INTO MY OFFICE !!!!” *intensely hip thrusts her way to hell (disregard that she’s already in it—)*

“i got the wind right here in a jar” *grabs her boob and jiggles it*

don’t we just stan amber gray

way down hadestown ii:

andré making the sound of “the pickaxe ringing” by banging a silver cup against the microphone on the stand

eurydice coming through the door and down the stairs. upon seeing the workers, she exclaims, “i’m eurydice !!” with a smile on her face like she’s ready to meet new people, but her smile fades away once she realizes no one’s paying attention to her. “doesn’t anybody hear me?” she asks the fates. and clotho responds, “oh they can hear! but they don’t care,” with a devious smile on her (and the rest of the fates’) face(s). “no one has a name down here.”

the fates proceed to tell eurydice how the workers have all forgotten about their lives before hadestown, and eurydice will turn out just like the rest.

lachesis says, “so what was your name again?” (no response) “see? you’ve already forgotten.”

flowers:

eva’s voice.........SO SAD

how she holds out her hand left hand to the side, as if trying to caress someone’s face who isn’t there.

come home with me ii:

yeah, orpheus comes in from the audience and climbs onto the stage as he says, “come home with me !!” and it’s ADORABLE

he puts his guitar down as he gets onstage (which i’d say is a metaphor for him choosing eurydice over his music)

she leaps into his arms, they embrace each other, and it’s the absolute most sweetest thing ever

papers:

“hades, i know this boy !” (persephone) // “one of the unemployed...” (hades) // “his name is orpheus—!” // “you stay out of this...” // and persephone gives him a look because he just shuts her down, and she knows she can’t do anything about it

as the fates approach orpheus, eurydice extends her arms out trying to protect him

clotho snatching orpheus’s guitar and mischievously examining it

mmmmm look at that fight scene

nothing changes:

ugh, i love that acappella and their voices are SPICY 🔥🔥💯🔥

the way clotho just holds his guitar above him while he’s lying there on the ground, beaten, like she’s teasing him

if it’s true:

eurydice retreating back to the turntable with the other workers, knowing full well there’s nothing she can do, and simply works away like the rest of them

“is this how the world is !? to be beaten and betrayed and then be told that nothing changes—will it always be like this !?” is my favorite

orpheus finally standing and is still in pain from all the workers beating him up

him pointing at each of the workers as he says “i’m asking me...and you and you and you!”

the workers each get up as they sing “we stand and listen” (or is it “we stand with him” ?? whatever, you get what i mean). but orpheus is giving them hope !!! yes !!!

how long:

persephone and hades standing on either side of the pit

they were staring at each other, moving in sync like a mirror; when persephone stepped with her right foot, hades with his left, and so on.

chant ii:

the workers and orpheus slowly rising up from the pit

“is it truuuuue ???” echoing in the back, then hades shouting “it’s the bOY !!”

when the workers say “i can’t look at my brother’s eyes,” afra and ahmad started getting up from the center and refused to make eye contact.

while i am still salty about them cutting persephone’s chant ii verse, i didn’t dislike hades’ new part. i liked it.

as hades shouts, “I CONDUCT THE ELECTRIC CITY !!!!” aLL THE LIGHTS IN THE THEATRE GO OUT AND IT’S WICKED COOL

epic iii:

sitting in my seat was honestly a perfect spot for me. hades was sitting in his stool and his back was to me, so obviously i couldn’t see much of his facial expressions, but it was literally like i was getting hades perspective as he viewed orpheus singing.

the most magical moment in the show tbh

when orpheus first sings “la la la” and hades says “where’d you get that melody ??” he gets up and starts walking towards orpheus like he’s about ready to fight and sue him for plagiarism

but persephone intervenes with a gentle “let him finish hades” before he takes another step. so he backs off.

when orpheus was singing about how hades “saw [persephone] alone there against the sky, it was like she was someone [he’d] always known,” eurydice steps up on the turntable. orpheus is in the center, with persephone and eurydice on either side of him—truly showing the parallels between orpheus and eurydice’s love with that of hades and persephone’s.

hades eventually gets on the center with orpheus, and the platform rises again. when everyone—workers and fates included—surrounds them on the turntable below, singing with orpheus, hades looks around at all of them, angry and confused

at the big “la la la la la la la” moment when everyone joins in with orpheus, the workers each get up in pairs as their side of the turntable finally faces the audience. they step up and remove their hats.

the workers finally make eye contact with one another

REEVE REALLY HITS THAT NOTE. AND IT’S SO BEAUTIFUL.

the way the flower just appears in hades hands after he sings “la la la la la la la...”

you can really SEE persephone crying

lover’s desire:

persephone putting the flower on his vest is so cute

SHE TAKES HIS HANDS

i love hades and persephone ok shut up i’m soft

KIMBERLY PUTTING HER HAND ON AHMAD’S ARM, THEN LOOKING UP AT HIM AND TIMOTHY. JOHN AND AFRA ARE SIDE BY SIDE, HOLDING EACH OTHER AS THEY WATCH HADES AND PERSEPHONE DANCE.

promises:

honestly i don’t remember too much of it visually because i was too busy crying.

i heard “i don’t need a ring for my finger, i just need a steady hand to hold,” and i just started BAWLING

i think i remember she takes his hand when he says “do you let me walk with you” though

“can we go?”

“i don’t know...”

word to the wise:

the fates dancing around hades was just. mmMMM.

his kiss, the riot:

he removes the flower on his vest. (oh, symbolism, we meet again.)

hades is beside hermes as he tells him “let there be one term to be agreed upon...”

wait for me ii (intro):

ah yes. hermes sitting on that stool as it slowly turns around on the turntable.

wait for me ii:

during my show, andré accidentally sang “that is the road to paradise and likewise the path to ruin.” which is alright. we all make mistakes, it’s okay fam 👏

i started crying again once eva and reeve harmonized on “wait for me...i’m coming” and looked at one another

“are we gonna try again?” “it’s time for spring...we’ll try again next fall.” “wait for me?” “i will.”

as orpheus is walking along the turntable, hermes, persephone, eurydice, and the workers are gathered in the center. near the end of the song when they’re all singing “waiiiit for me... i’m comiiiing, waiiiiiit i’m... coming with you” persephone’s holding out the red flower while eurydice has her hand outstretched to orpheus.

EVA JUMP

“I’M COMING WAIT FOR MEEEEEEEEEE I HEAR THE WALLS REPEATING THE FALLIN’ OF OUR FEET AND !! IT SOUNDS LIKE DRUMMIN’ !!!!!!”

it all goes dark as they sing “i’m coming !!!! (coming !!) (coming !!)”

doubt comes in:

IT’S LITERALLY AS GOOD AS YOU’D THINK IT IS

SO OMINOUS AND SPOOKY WITH THE FOG !!!!

eurydice’s following right behind orpheus, but he doesn’t know that. and the doubt and uncertainty on his face is heart-wrenching.

like. the STRESS on his face as he throws both his hands to his head and clutches his hair.

as the scene needs to focus on orpheus and his perspective of feeling alone, the spotlight is taken off of eurydice as she stops walking and lets the turntable turn until her full figure retreats into darkness. the spotlight is fully on orpheus and orpheus alone.

in the dark, three lanterns gradually rise up from the pit. as the fates start singing, their voices are hauntingly beautiful in the scene.

“doubt comes in...the wind is changing...doubt comes in...how cold it’s blowin’...doubt comes in...and meets a stranger walking on a road a l o n e . where is she ?? where is she now ??”

orpheus’s “who am i ?? why am i all alone ?? who do i think i am ? who am i to think that she would follow me into the cold and dark again.”

“orpheus, i’m listening—i’m right here !! and i will be to the end !! and the coldest night of the coldest year comes right before the spring.”

“i used to see the way the world could be...and now the way it is is all i see.”

orpheus’s realism contrasted with eurydice’s optimism just tugs at your heartstrings. orpheus, the once optimistic poet who “could see the way the world could be” no longer has that gift. eurydice, once a realist, has now been given hope that her lover can show her the way.

near the end of the song, the stairs begin to light up, and so does the exit. they’re so close to the surface—they’re almost there. and eurydice is so hopeful. she’s so certain they’ll make it that she doesn’t even doubt for a second that orpheus will turn around. but suddenly you hear a gasp. and you realize in the blink of an eye that orpheus had made a grave mistake. he’s turned around. his eyes are on eurydice, who’s frozen and in tears.

“it’s you...” he utters.

there’s a long silence

“it’s me...” her words are weak. “orpheus...?”

“eurydice...”

eurydice drops to her knees as she quickly descends back to hadestown. orpheus had scrambled his way to the edge of the pit, helplessly on his knees, staring down at where his lover had just been.

road to hell ii:

hermes’ “a’ight” after a long silence just brought me so many emotions. fuck.

as hermes is singing, eventually orpheus gets up and, with no other choice but to push on, continue his way up the stairs (to the surface), slowly and alone.

“‘cause here’s the thing: to know how it ends and still begin to sing it again...as if it might turn out this time...i learned that from a friend of mine.”

“see, orpheus was a poor boy—“ dressed in her act 1 clothes, eurydice reappears onstage saying, “anybody got a match?” hermes is still up front in the center, facing the audience as he holds out a matchbox in his left hand. “but he had a gift to give...” eurydice comes up and takes the box from him, “gimme that.” she sits down on the ground and takes out the candle from her bag, lighting the match, then lighting her candle.

from her pocket, she takes out a red flower and holds it to her face, sniffing it. a soft smile forms on her lips—like there’s some sentiment to this flower that she’s yet to know of—and puts it in her hair.

as the pit comes back up with all the tables and chairs, there’s persephone sitting on one of the tables.

at the end, orpheus returns back onstage with his apron and everything, stopping at one of the steps as he makes eye contact with eurydice. they’re staring at each other, lovestruck, just as they were in the beginning. “we’re gonna sing it again...”

we raise our cups:

persephone and eurydice’s harmonies 💞💓💖💕❤️💞💞

orpheus playing his guitar onstage even though all that shit just happened 😭 i cri

———

miscellaneous things:

act 1 was great, but the moment act 2 started i instantly knew it was gonna be my favorite. in the past when listening to audio, i always preferred to listen to act 1, with only a couple songs from act 2. so i always thought act 1 was my favorite act. but finally seeing hadestown in person, i think act 2 probably takes the cake.

once curtain call started, i was clapping like mad. when we got to the ensemble bowing, my hands were already dead but i was like, “FUCK IT, IF MY HANDS FALL OFF TONIGHT IT WAS WORTH IT BECAUSE I GOTTA APPRECIATE THIS ENTIRE CAST”

#AND THAT’S IT #i’m tired #a couple things may be inaccurate but it’s. fine.#hadestown #hadestown the musical #hadestown broadway #broadway #casu’s ramblings #my shtuff #casu’s hadestown experience

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ask-the-dancing-demon · 5 years

Text

Alright, time for an explanation

Or as best of an explanation I can give at this point.

So, yeah I’ve been pretty much absent from this blog for like what? 2 years? 2 and a half?? I’m not sure of the exact time frame, but needless to say, it’s been a hot minute.

So, where to start?

Well, I should probably say why I got so sluggish with this whole thing.

So, one reason is that I had started working as I had some tuition I needed to pay off and just to get some income in general. The hours , though supposed to be part-time, got weird. Like, work 8-10 hours one day and an hour and a half the next. This not only made my pay really fucked up, but also (and more importantly) had me just too dead to do anything else once I got home.

In fact, even my days off were just me resting and not really wanting to do any big art projects. Which brings me to my next reason:

If all of you who’ve been here remember where we left off, I was working my way up to revealing a very important character. And how I wanted to do it, was I wanted to have this entire comic laid out to introduce him the way I wanted to, drop some exposition, and set up future character arcs.

However, the little project balloon up a little too much. And by a little too much, I mean it took ages just for one strip of panels. Like a couple of weeks for like 5 panels-which there were 5 panels for each part, and there ended up being more 20 parts- I also had very little skill/experience with making anything in a comic structure (I still do, but I’m branching out and am better at it) so everything is in a top-down format and it added to how time-consuming it all was.

So, with everything moving at a snail’s pace, and the number of people coming aboard to see what this blog had to offer I started getting anxious about doing anything on here knowing that the more time I stalled, the more I was just disappointing everyone here. And then, the project ended up needing more panels than I was anticipating, therefore extending my workload tenfold. At some point, that anxiety spread to what I was working on and I could barely focus on what I was doing and kept worrying about how much I wasn’t getting done, how I wasn’t able to do anything else, all the details I was trying to put in that weren’t going well , etc., etc.

Eventually I just kinda sat around worrying about what I was gonna do about this whole thing while simultaneously getting absolutely nothing done.

And then that, combined with my shitty work situation making me practically depressed basically had me sitting on the whole project barely touching tumblr at all. for like two years. I mostly just kept to DeviantArt for a lot of my stuff.

Of course, during those two years, Bendy and the Ink Machine continued, ended, and is getting another game. And through all that time with the progression of the plot and such, I kept getting more and more headcanons and ideas that all tied into this blog’s AU

But I couldn’t show them, because they would be spoilers and would take place after what I was doing. Which meant I’d have to do that first. Which brought back the problems I mentioned before.

Now, even my DeviantArt content is starting to dry up, because of all the things I have to withhold until the stuff is finished.

Finally, I just go fed up with putting the ideas on hold and not getting shit done. And I finally came to the conclusion that I had been too inexperienced to try taking on a project that fricking big and honestly shame on me for that

So, here’s what I’ve decided.

I went ahead and decided to condense the project down to something that I could accomplish. I was originally going to have this character exit at the end, and only sometimes be available to for asks, but the amount of work that entail, if I wanted to get the points I wanted across, would basically put me back to square one. So, instead of doing that, everyone will get to ask him all the stuff they want in order to further this story.

Also, the way I’ll be doing answers will be slightly different; in that it’ll be a bit less of just answering questions with a bit of lore thrown in, and more of asks helping to guide the story. I’ll still give you guys a lot of fun input, though don’t worry! ;)

Next, the characters won’t be quite the same as we left of. You know, having a thousand and two ideas bouncing around your head for a while tends to lead to a few changes in how you do these characters. There’s been a good deal of character development, and a few dynamics have changed, so these characters may act a bit differently than expected.(how many times can i say characters in one paragraph???)

Next, fair warning about how the comic will look. I did have a few parts of it finished before trimming it down. Some parts had all the shading and dialogue and stuff finished, while some parts just had some lineart done (i did lineart for the fudkigng background why did i do that that was such a bad idea D:) Some panels will have the original lineart from 2 years ago-that i did not touch outside of cleaning- and others will be my recent style, so it might look kinda wonky with my old art and current skill right next to each other so just bear with me on it.

And finally, the last thing I need to say is that the amount I had condensed everything down to is almost finished- like, ready to go up within the next week finished. Hell, it could maybe even be finished within the next few days(but probably not because i nitpick like a mofo so it’ll probably be next week)

Sorry for the wait, all this time guys, I promise your patience will be rewarded

I might open the asks for anyone who has anymore questions for me, about this, or about the blog. What do you guys think?

#mun speaks #shut up grem #thats a lot of words 0.0

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