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vermillionflames · 3 years

Text

Wedding Night

Gaara x Female Y/N

Word Count: 2,244

Warnings: arranged marriage, virgin sex, oral sex, unedited smut

I was nervous. My heart had been racing all day thanks to my wedding day anxiety, and the unsolicited advice from literally every single woman attending did not help. Neither did my father’s look of sympathy as he gave me away. My heart, having beat so fast it ran out of fuel, had dropped to the pit of my stomach the second we got into the carriage to take us to our home. This was the first time I was truly alone with my now husband, and it was dead silent. I was convinced he had fallen asleep with his eyes open, bored out of his mind, while my mind was reeling with all the scenarios that could happen.

The Kazekage was many things, but not a charmer. That much I was certain.

The carriage stopped and a guard opened the door. Not acknowledging me, again, Gaara got out first. A second guard presented his hand to help me exit as he continued towards the door. Lovely.

The house was massive, and right in the middle of the village. My face became hot realizing how easy everyone had access to it. Not only did it seem unsafe, the lack of privacy was a waving red flag.

Then I noticed his siblings standing in the door frame. We would have witnesses to our consummation.

I tried not to dwell as I followed Gaara inside.

His siblings vanished from the porch and then the door shut with the wind.

“We have the place to ourselves tonight,” he spoke in a low, monotone voice, “They reside here as well and will be back tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully they don’t bother you the same way they bother me.”

“Was that… a joke,” I tried to crack a smile but I was so anxious it didn’t translate through my face.

For the first time all day he really looked at me. The silence was heavy. My shoulders slouched and my face dropped after a few moments, he was disappointed with his bride.

“Come,” he turned around and started up the flight of stairs, “I’ll show you to our room.”

Not having separate rooms detracted half the advice I had been given early, but I was glad I wouldn’t have to deal with being alone when I went to sleep my first nights in a new home.

Gaara opened a door on the second floor and led me inside. The room was nothing special. A king size bed in the middle of the left wall, wearing deep blue sheets. Across were two armoire closets, made of cherrywood, and a door that seemingly led to a bathroom. It was bare, unlived in.

I turned to look at him by my side.

“I don’t have much skill when it comes to decoration,” Gaara said, meeting my eyes, “You can change everything to suit your liking.”

“O-okay,” I answered.

We stood there in silence, staring at each other, yet again.

My face got red as I realized it was about to happen.

“Um,” I stuttered, “Shouldn’t the sheets be white,” I looked down at my feet, embarrassed.

“If you want white sheets we can have them delivered in the morning,” he replied.

My brows furrowed in confusion, “I mean, like, for the blood.”

“What blood,” he asked, stepping closer he grabbed my hand and lifted my arm, “Are you injured?”

“No,” my heart shot up from my gut to my throat, “For the consummation,” I spoke too loudly for my liking. He placed my arm back down at my side.

“You are…,” he looked at me, “A virgin?”

I wanted to crawl into myself and die.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“That is good to know,” he walked towards the bathroom door, “I was hoping we could wait. I know everyone wants you swollen with my child by tomorrow, but,” he opened the door, “I think it best we get to know each other a little more. Your clothes should have been put in the closet on the right, I’ll be in here until you're changed into your pajamas.”

I was relieved at his idea to wait, though part of me just wanted to rip it off like a bandage. Then I got sick again knowing that I have never owned pajamas in my life… and that I sleep naked. I stalked to the closet, hoping there would be something that resembled sleepwear or that my mother had packed my belongings and threw me a bone. Inside all I found were tiny lace pieces and short satin dresses. Obviously, my ninja gear had been omitted from the move since I was no longer allowed to be in active duty, but nothing besides lingerie was inside the closet.

I threw open the single drawer at the bottom, praying for a miracle. It too had nothing but sexy underwear, and I wanted to faint when I saw leather straps. Who did this?! My shock made me lose my grip on the drawer and it fell onto the ground with a loud crash.

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I answered too quickly and too loud.

What was I going to do? I couldn’t sleep in my wedding robe. I looked at all the dresses, concluding they revealed too much for a sexless night.

“There’s, um, there’s no pajamas in my closet,” I called to him. The door unlatched and opened as Gaara walked to me.

“I’m sure they just hid it from yo…” he trailed off taking in the mess on the floor, “There has to be something here.”

Gaara picked up a black strap off the floor, “What even is this,” he asked, tossing it aside. “Is this supposed to make me horny,” he picked up a tiny, lace thong, “My sister must have gotten your size wrong.”

I spit out an embarrassed laugh.

Eyes narrowed, he shuffled through the mess on the floor. “Why is there nothing but underwear in this whole closet?!”

“Can I just wear something of yours,” I asked.

His face softened, “Of course. What’s mine, is yours.”

His closet was full of clothes and pajamas, so I had plenty of options. He handed me a large black t-shirt and red drawstring pants. I nodded in thanks.

Gaara went back to the bathroom while I changed. I threw the shirt over my bare chest, swimming in its size. Then began the mental debate of panties. The ones I had worn with my wedding robes had meant to suck me in and were too tight for sleep, so I removed them. I picked up the pait Gaara had thrown aside earlier and put them on, not wanting to be bare underneath his pants. His pajamas were too big for me, but they were comfortable and warm.

“I’m done,” I called as I climbed into the bed. Gaara emerged from the bathroom, having also changed into pajamas, which matched mine. He flicked his wrists and the lights went out. I felt him climb into the bed next to me and settle. The quiet lulled me to sleep, where I dreamt of my husband touching my body.

Something in the night startled me awake. I ripped my eyes open, seeing the bare wall. In my sleep I had turned onto my side, my back facing Gaara… only... He had also turned onto his side and had his arms wrapped around me. His hand had wandered up my shirt and was now resting under my breast.

I squirmed to try and move myself, but he only tightened his hold around me. Panicking, I grabbed his arm and pulled it down, forgetting how strong I was. His shoulder popped and I felt him wake up. His hand remained too close to my boob, which he noticed. He flipped himself over mumbling an apology.

“Wait, Gaara,” I turned, poking his shoulder.

“Hmmm,” he grumbled, half asleep.

“I want to,” I blurted out. I blushed at my confession, but honesty was the best policy.

“Want to what,” he asked, turning onto his back.

“I want to consummate our marriage,” I whispered, regretting how I worded it.

Silence was my answer.

“Um, nevermind,” I moved to lay back down but Gaara sat up and grabbed my face, bringing me in for a kiss. His lips were soft and warm, the kiss was nothing like the one we shared during our ceremony. My body tingled in response. I whimpered when he pulled away, wanting more.

“Are you sure,” he asked, holding my face in his hand.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“We’ll go slow,” he promised before kissing me again. His tongue licked my lips asking for entry. I parted, not really knowing what to do. I just knew I wanted him as close to me as possible.

Gaara laid me onto my back, continuing the kiss. He paused to look at me, I fidgeted under his eye. He smiled, genuinely smiled at me, before continuing the kiss. He sucked on my bottom lip, a feeling I won’t soon forget, before trailing kisses down my jaw and neck. His fingers played with the hem of my shirt, his shirt. Tickling my stomach and hips before pushing the fabric upwards.

“I want to keep it on,” I gasped, not ready to be fully naked in front of him, despite the lack of light.

“Okay, Y/N, but anything you keep on, I get to keep on and we can’t make love unless we take off our pants.”

His choice of words shocked me. Make love? We hardly knew each other. Still, I nodded in agreement.

His hands moved to the waistband of the pants I was wearing and slowly pulled them down. He cocked his head to the side, recognizing the thong from earlier.

“I guess Temari did get your size right,” he winked.

I took a deep breath as his fingers looped around that waistband and pulled down. The most private part of me was now bare to him.

“If you want to stop at any point, please tell me. You can shove me to the floor if you want,” he waited for me to acknowledge him before continuing. I didn’t trust my voice so I nodded.

One second he was staring at me, the next his head had fallen to my core. I soon realized what he was doing. His tongue licked up my folds, making my yelp. I had touched myself before, but my fingers never felt like this. I felt him smile with pride as his licks made me squirm and gasp. I kept my hands at my side, gripping the sheets. The pleasure increased when Gaara wrapped his mouth around my clit and lightly sucked, continuing the tongue laps. The bed beneath was soaked from how wet I was.

On instinct, my hands went to his hair and pulled him closer to me as I begged for more. My embarrassment and anxiety from earlier had vanished due to my lack of need for his touch. I didn’t want him to stop, and I told him that too.

I felt one of his fingers enter me, making my volume increase. He pumped his finger before releasing my clit from his mouth.

He looked up at me from his position at my hips, our eyes met and my body came undone.

“Do you still want to,” he stood at the side of the bed when my orgasm stopped rippling through me.

“Yes,” my voice was so heavy with desire I didn’t recognize it.

“Shirts still on?”

I blushed but nodded.

“Okay,” I watched Gaara remove his pants, revealing a long, hard cock. My body hummed in excitement as he climbed back on top of me.

“Y/N,” Gaara grabbed my face with one had, forcing my concentration on his eyes and not his member, “Remember what I said about stopping me?”

“Yes,” I answered too quickly.

He smiled, “Good, now look at me.”

I kept eye contact as he entered me. My face slowly shifted into one of discomfort as more went inside. It wasn’t painful like I had been warned, but it was a new sensation that was extremely uncomfortable.

Gaara groaned when he was fully sheathed. He didn’t move his hips, opting to kiss my cheeks while I got used to his size.

“Please,” I finally asked, “Give me everything.”

Gaara growled in approval before moving his hips backward, slowly he thrust in and out of me. I moaned, moving my hands to grab his back and hold him to me. He took my expression and noises as cues. Once I had gotten louder, and wetter, and quickened his pace, causing me to scratch down his back.

“More,” I begged, and he laughed.

“Tonight, this is as much as you get. I don’t want you to be too sore,” he angled himself to hit a particularly pleasurable spot and I cried out.

We were both sweating, moaning messes when I felt my orgasm approach. Gaara must have felt it too because he quickened his pace enough to meet me. We came together, which is something the old hags told me would not happen. Gaara laid on top of me for some time before flopping over.

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

“Yes,” I was still catching my breath, “That was so much better than what I was told would happen.”

“Oh?” Gaara sat up, massaging circles into my tummy, “Just wait until we become more accustomed to each other’s bodies.”

#gaara scenario #gaara fanfic #gaara x oc #gaara fanfiction #gaara x y/n #gaara x reader #naruto x reader #gaara oneshot #sabaku no gaara #gaara of the sand #suna no gaara #gaaraxoc #gaara headcanons #kazekage gaara

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kohakuarisaka · 3 years

Text

Untamed (chapter 2 of 5)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Every year, without fail, Hawks went into a rut: when autumn began, and then again in early spring. He would honker down up north in a secluded cabin. For the first time, he brought you with him.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Non-canon compliant: Hawks’ quirk does not work like this. Reader is a hero that works at Hawks agency. Pre-existing relationship. Reader is a female with female genitalia. Feral behavior. Rutting. Biting. Spanking. Slight BDSM. Consensual sex. Wing kink. Oral sex. Romantic relationship.

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5

[ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

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As it turned out, 'secluded cabin' was a pretty accurate statement.

Hawks had arranged for a very discreet hero taxi service to drive you the 5-hour trip from Musutafu to a quaint mountainous village that was so small and quiet, you almost doubted it was even on the map.

Past the snowy village, through the winding roads and towering trees, over a bridge, past a frozen lake, and then some miles off the main road, tucked away in a small clearing, was a beautiful cabin.

While the days were steadily growing warmer as spring rapidly approached, it still snowed at night. The snow had melted off the trees from the warmth of the midday sun; but, there was still a light blanket of white on the rooftop and across the surrounding grounds.

There were no poles lining the street, nothing that could bring electricity to the house; however, you could see what was likely a generator tucked away in the back. Someone had propped the cover off and cleaned out the snow.

At that sight, it became obvious that Hawks had beat you here. He already taken to clearing the snow out of the entry way as well, exposing a beautiful cobblestone pathway.

You exited the vehicle and retrieved your bags from the trunk. The very second you closed the hatch, the driver made a speedy exit, wheels skidding in the snow as they backed out before doing a sharp U-turn and barreling down the road.

Luckily, the entrance to the cabin opened before you could worry that you had just been abandoned in the middle of nowhere. Sure enough, Hawks stepped out, wild blonde locks brushed back, a little fluffier than usual due to the change in humidity.

Despite how cold it was, he was wearing a black tank top and loose, light grey sweat pants. He even stepped out onto the cold stone pathway with bare feet. Yet, with a light flush to his skin, he didn't look cold at all.

You had been making a face when he approached, and he offered an explanation, uttering, "I told 'em not to linger. It's suspicious."

Some large plumes departed his wingspan and grabbed at your luggage, one even pulling your shoulder bag off your back. They whipped away, bags in tow, and zipped past Hawks and through the doorway, disappearing into the cabin.

The winged hero didn't immediately usher you inside, as he usually did in these types of situations, but arched over you suddenly, arms bringing you into a tight embrace while his lips captured yours.

The sudden closeness forced your back to arch. Unconsciously, your hands fell onto his barely clothed shoulders, and you felt how warm he was. If you didn't know any better, you would have thought he was running a fever.

The kiss was brief, but uncharacteristically messy, not that you were complaining. It was a kiss of longing, like he had missed you dearly, as if it had been months and not a day and a half.

He pulled back, a distant, albeit blissful, look on his face. His eyelids sagged as if he was tired, but the gold of his iris was bright and his pupils were focused.

"I didn't get to clean yet, but - ugh - do you wanna see inside?" he asked, some slight nervousness to his tone.

"Yeah," you breathed.

Hawks stepped aside and you gently brushed past him and stepped inside. The wood floors creaked softly beneath your feet as you crossed the threshold. Immediately, you were hit with a wonderful scent, earthy, like tree bark, but sweet, like raw honey.

It was a decent sized cabin, spacious and not heavily furnished. The kitchen was on the small side, but seemingly to accommodate a larger living room.

As Hawks had warned, there was a thin layer of dust all across the wood floors. The furniture was covered by clear tarps, shielding them from the debris.

The dining area tucked away in the corner had a chabudai in place of a western style table. It was small and clearly only intended for two people. You had a feeling it was new, considering how spotless it looked compared to the rest of the cabin.

A huge, stone fireplace rested against the north wall, surrounded by large windows that gave a beautiful view of the outside. They were adorned with heavy curtains, pulled back to let the sunlight in.

Hawks was lingering, following close, staring down at you as you walked around and took in the sight of the place. When your eyes landed on him, and you caught his unblinking stare, you realized he was awaiting feedback.

It startled you a little, for Hawks wasn't the kind to fuss over these sorts of things; but, you had a decent enough understanding of what a rut was to know what was going through his head.

"Relax, birdbrain," you cooed, reaching up to tap gently at his cheek with a closed palm. That seemed to knock him out of his stupor, for he blinked and suddenly looked sheepish. He flickered his gold eyes away, as if to give you space.

"I love it," you praised, looking back into the living area. "Cozy, and smells nice."

You heard him exhale a relieved sigh through his nostrils.

"We should get to work. Where's the cleaning stuff?" you asked, peeling your jacket off.

"Oh. I'll-" he began.

"You'll let me help," you interrupted him gently.

When you turned back to face him, and saw the bewildered expression he was wearing, you wondered if maybe that wasn't the right thing to fit with his current state.

"Unless that's... bad?" you offered uncertainly, shoulders sagging.

Hawks laughed suddenly at the sunken expression on your face, as if the joyous sound came sputtering out against his will.

"No," he answered softly, leaning in suddenly for another kiss, as if he couldn't help it. You didn't get a chance to kiss back before he was retreating.

"Don't change," he sighed. "I want you as you, not as my..."

"-subservient housewife?" you offered, just a little teasing.

He chuckled softly, breathing out a harsh, "fuck, no."

Hawks maneuvered around you and headed for what you guessed was a supply closet. Inside, the cleaning gear was also neatly packaged in containers and safe from dust.

It made sense, how neatly arranged everything was. Hawks was a fairly neat person; but, it was also clear that he had this whole thing down, neatly tuned and properly sorted out. He had been coming here for years, after all.

This place was special to him. That much was clear.

The two of you started to dusting and sweeping, followed by a diligent mopping, with the two of you working in tandem.

Hawks was fairly quiet during the whole ordeal, seemingly focused sternly on the task at hand. It had been his nest for years. This was hardly anything new; but, it was now going to be yours, too.

He didn't tell you that he had been worried he would react negatively to your presence. He didn't always react rationally during this time. Seemingly average things would sometimes irritate him, and a part of the possessive onslaught included this abode.

Fortunately, that hadn't been the case. Cleaning the cabin with you was soothing. He wasn't unaware of the obvious implication: that you were preparing a nest together, your shared nest. He didn't say it aloud, but you had come to that realization, as well.

It had actually calmed him quite a bit. He had been on edge before you arrived, skin prickled with heat and sweating unreasonably considering the cold. Those weren't abnormal during his ruts; but, it felt intensified with that knowledge that you were going to be here.

Darkness swept across the forest as the hours dragged on. Luckily, you were just about finished by the time it got dark.

There was a neat stack of firewood arranged on a carrier near the fireplace, making you wonder if that was what he had worked on before your arrival. The logs looked freshly cut and heavy.

Crimson feathers delivered logs to the hearth. Hawks retrieved a set of matches from a cubby near the carrier and then kneeled before the hearth. He set one of the matches ablaze and carefully ignited the firewood arranged in the pit.

Warmth and light flooded the cabinet. Plumes gathered along the edges of the curtains and pulled them back, covering the windows. When they returned to his wingspan, he stepped back and monitored the fire briefly.

While cleaning, you had learned there was a cellar and partial second story, as well as an indoor bathroom. It seemed that the main use of the generator was to power the water heater and indoor plumbing.

The cellar was small, down a short flight of stairs, with concrete floors and walls, the perfect size for containing a month's worth of food and supplies, far more than was necessary for just a week.

The second story was a loft that oversaw the living room, giving a great view of the fireplace. There was no safety railing on the upstairs, likely for the very obvious fact that Hawks could fly. There was, at least, a staircase.

Upstairs, there was a large bed frame with a plush mattress, wrapped up tight to protect from dust, a large chest pressed up against the wall, and a desk without a chair.

After he removed the bed cover, you watched Hawks pull neatly folded blankets and pillow cases out the chest. It was fascinating to see someone, who normally slept wherever his body landed, so meticulously prepare the bedding: layers and layers of blankets, followed by dressing the pillows and laying them out.

It was especially perplexing because of the intense, concentrated look on his face. He had been so focused that he hadn't even realized that you had paused what you were doing to watch him.

Luckily, you caught yourself staring before he did, and shuffled back downstairs before he could notice.

A sudden howling had startled you, before a sharp wind rattled against the shutters. Something was thumping gently against the roof and when the wind picked up, you could almost hear the trees shuddering outside.

"It's snowing," Hawks observed, suddenly at your side.

You could see a glimpse of crimson in the corner of your eye, and realized he had a wing fanned out around you, not quite close enough to touch, but hovering. Maybe, he hadn't even realized he was doing that.

"Oh," you answered quietly.

Together, you prepared dinner, settling for a classic favorite of his: yakitori chicken and stir fry noodles.

Eating dinner together, and talking about nothing, made you realize, it had been the first time in a long time, if ever, that you hadn't discussed work: nothing about the agency, nothing about heroes or villains, nothing about police business or missions.

It was just senseless conversations that amounted to nothing.

The dining table was small and the floor was cold; but, your hands brushed constantly due to the lack of space. It made you realize that you had longed to have this type of moment with him, something so utterly domestic.

"I know it's not super late," Hawks began, on his way to the kitchen with the dirty plates. "But, I'm gonna wake you up early; so, let's get to bed, okay?"

His voice was soft, surprisingly drowsy, you realized, and he continued, "it's - well, there's something I wanna show you, and it looks best in the sunrise."

He had started the dishes before you could; so, you stepped in close, deciding to tease him a little.

"I bet you do look best in the sunrise," you uttered, leaning against the counter top near the sink, where he had busied his hands. He was looking away from you; but, you could see his lip twitch into a faint smile.

Hawks laughed, a low chuckle that rumbled through his chest. "Not me," he replied softly. Yet, he found himself feeling enamored with the knowledge that that was where your mind had wandered first.

"Do you want me to wait for you?" you offered, standing upright and shifting away from the counter.

"Nah," he replied simply. "I'll join ya' in a bit."

You changed into your pajamas, brushed your teeth and pulled your hair back, before heading upstairs. Blankets and pillows were stacked high on top of the mattress, making the bedframe disappear beneath it.

It not only looked incredibly warm, but incredibly soft, and an inspection with your hand, smoothing over the surface, confirmed that. There were several pillows pressed against the headboard and even more at the foot of the bed.

If you hadn't seen him arrange it, you would have doubted it was even Hawks' bed. From the glimpses you had seen into his life, he was a minimalist.

His office at the agency was fairly large, but looked almost comical with the lack of furniture in it. He wasn't one to buy much of anything outside of perishables.

"Take those off."

You had heard that commanding tone many times before; but, in the peace and serenity of this cabin, it startled you. Your shoulders twitched a little and you turned to face him, having not heard Hawks approach.

His gold eyes were glaring at your body, shifting up to meet your gaze when you turned to face him.

You gawked back at him, dumbfounded by his boldness, and a little intrigued, if you were being honest. He had warned you about this, and you were about to comply when his dark expression suddenly softened.

"Oh fuck," Hawks blurted, embarrassment washing over his face. The intensity of the moment dissipated and you found yourself unable to hold back a faint smile at the way his face so rapidly changed from anger to shame.

"Shit - I - sorry - ugh," he stammered, some redness tinting the tops of his ears. His dominant hand came up and ruffled his hair. "That was messed up. Ah - what I mean is, can we sleep naked?"

It was clear he wasn't embarrassed about the request, but the way that he had asked. You couldn't hold back a soft chuckle at his frazzled state.

"Of course," you uttered, and began shedding your clothes.

He was staring at your nudity as if it wasn't something he had seen many times before, as if his hands and mouth hadn't explored every inch of skin, hadn't touched and claimed parts of you your own hands couldn't reach.

It made you feel powerful, beautiful.

"Did you brush your teeth?" you asked, knocking him out of his stupor.

He didn't respond, but made a face that gave you your answer. He turned away then, and hopped over the edge of the loft, floating down into the lower floor, and scurried off to the bathroom.

Promptly, you disappeared beneath the blankets, shivering from the cold, skin prickled with goosebumps. You were about to scold yourself for complying with him so eagerly, without demanding a compromise, mainly that you expected him to warm you up.

Luckily, it didn't take him long to join you, and you suddenly felt a very warm, and very naked, body slot into the space behind you, wiggling beneath the blankets. It was almost concerning how warm he was, like he had just flung himself into the hearth before running back over here.

You rolled onto your back to greet him and Hawks wasted no time slotting over you, tangling legs, arms falling on either side of your head. Wispy bangs fell over his forehead, longer strands catching on his eyebrows.

Your eyes peered over his shoulders, where you could see his wings were fanned out above him, plumes stretched wide, looming possessively. When your gaze shifted to his face, your breath hitched.

His stare was hypnotizing, as if he couldn't believe you were here, gold eyes practically glowing in the dimly lit loft.

It made you sad to think just your presence alone had pleased him so much, whereas nothing else had yet to occur. It made you think of all the years he had to endure this alone, the loneliness far more straining than the lack of a pliant body.

"Hey," he began, voice hoarse, distant.

His dominant hand shifted from the bed to cup your cheek, thumb gently prodding at your cheek bone. Just like the rest of his body, his hand was so warm.

"I know I said I wouldn't let you leave," he explained, fingers sliding carefully across your temple. "But, if you want to, at any time, I'll call the taxi and-"

You leaned up, taking his lips in a gentle kiss to silence him. He moaned into the kiss, clearly surprised by your interruption. His hand departed your face, lowering to caress the side of your neck.

When you pulled back, he chased, not letting you depart from him quite so quickly. The kiss carried on for a short while, Hawks only leaning back when he was satisfied.

"No," you disagreed in a soft hum, hands rising to push strands of his hair out of his face. "I'm not leaving. We're going through this together. Okay?"

He let out a sigh that fluttered across your cheeks. "Okay," he agreed, as if he couldn't believe it.

Hawks shifted until he was lying beside you, one arm loose around your waist. You turned a little to lay on your side and lean into him, cheek falling comfortably into the pillow beneath your head, and felt him nuzzle into your back, bringing you as close as he could without ruining your comfort.

One of his wings folded carefully over you while the other sprawled out across the bed. The light from the fire just barely reached the loft, an amber glow that flickered with the dancing flames.

The sounds of the gentle snowfall outside was a little louder upstairs. One of the nearby windows rattled softly, trembling weakly from the breeze that shook the shutters. The rafters above creaked occasionally in melodic hums.

Behind you, Hawks' chest undulated with his breathing, moving against the skin of your back. His wings shifted ever so slightly in harmony with the expansion and shrinking of his lungs. The longer plumes on the ends twitched occasionally.

"Keigo?" you whispered.

He didn't answer. Judging by the way his arm had slackened where it rested over your waist, you figured he had fallen asleep already.

The bedding was soft, and you had no doubt that he had washed them diligently; yet, mingled with the earthy tones of the cabin, they smelt like him. The hearth crackled distantly, the sound a faint echo through the cabin.

It didn't take long to slip away.

• • •

Sometime in the middle of the night, you were woken by a strange sound. In your groggy state, it sounded like a distant animal cooing into the night.

Once you properly came to, you realized the warmth against your back had retreated. The blanket had been partially ripped away in the process, leaving the skin of your back exposed to the cold air of the cabin.

What had sounded far away you now realized was coming from right behind you, pained little noises and harsh wheezing. You rolled over to take in the sight of Hawks, blindly reaching for him in a moment of panic.

Worry struck you when your skin touched his. He had already been warm to the touch before; but now, his skin felt scorching, sticky with sweat. Your hand had landed on his chest, where you could feel his muscles rapidly rising and falling with each staggering breath.

The noise that had woken you became obvious then; he was panting, sharp and labored breaths that whooshed in and out of him, occasionally accompanied with a quiet, pained sound.

He had shoved the blankets away and was laying on his back, wings tucked in uncomfortably tight beneath him. Through the faint glow of warm light from the fireplace, you could see his chest raising and falling rapidly, head tossed back, face contorted in pain. Some strands of blonde locks were clinging to the sweat soaked skin on his face.

"Keigo - Keigo," you called to him, hands rising to his shoulders so you could shake him.

It wasn't until he jerked suddenly, eyes opening and head whipping towards you, that you realized he had been sleeping. His labored breathing intensified, but only for a second, before he started to calm down.

His gold eyes were glossy for a second, staring at you blindly, before he started to wake properly. His lips were parted, sharp breaths still escaping him in harsh wisps.

"Are you okay?" you whispered harshly. "Are you sick? You look-..."

You could see a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. Now, with him leaning up a little, you could see the flush of red tinting his skin, all down his chest and across his cheeks. His shoulder muscles were tight and his wings twitched helplessly beneath him.

"I'm f-fine," Hawks answered, voice low and hoarse. He swallowed roughly. "It's - it's a n-normal side effect."

"You're burning up," you hissed, hands touching his skin so carefully, like you would hurt him if you were too rough. "Are you sure you're okay?" you insisted.

"Just need-" he growled, cutting off as he tried to sit up.

His movement had repositioned your hands, causing them to drag from his shoulders to his chest, less you lose stability and collapse on top of him.

It was a familiar touch, a place you had touched him many times before; yet, he froze suddenly, gaze shifting down to your hands as if they were grounding him to this plane of existence.

Hawks' gold eyes fluttered shut and his pained expression softened. He flopped back on the bed, giving up his attempt to sit up as if he had suddenly lost all strength in his body.

Catching on, you uttered into the cold air, "is that what you need? Keigo, do you want me to-"

"Yes," he answered sharply, hissing through the cold, chilled air. He sounded relieved, thankful that you had offered before he had to ask.

"God, fuck - I - I need you, need to - to - be inside you-"

His babbling briefly ceased when you pushed the blankets off yourself and rolled on top of him, a gesture you had done many times before, now a nearly perfect art.

You watched, hypnotized as Hawks arched his back off the bed and flexed his wings until they were sprawled out on either side of him. The beautiful crimson plumes stretched out across the sheets, shuddering in faint waves that matched his heavy breathings.

In the shift, his cock became pinned against your inner thigh. If you didn't known any better, you would have thought he was prodding you with an iron rod pulled straight from the fires of a forge.

It was unbearably hot, hard as steel and painfully poking against your flesh. You could feel his heartbeat through his cock, throbbing against you as if pleading to be touched.

Arousal had never struck you this hard before, with enough force that it made your never regions throb and chest tighten. Blood rushed to your face so quickly, you briefly feared you would pass out.

Now, hovering, looking down at him, it was almost unbearable. It was clear that Hawks was in pain, and you felt a tinge of guilt at the realization that his state had aroused you.

But, the truth was, he looked stunning.

Maybe it was the red flush staining his skin, or the glisten of sweat, shiny with the reflection of the fire burning in the hearth. Maybe it was the way his gold eyes practically glowed through the darkness, staring up at you like a starving predator, glaring with dangerous intent.

Some sort of inhuman growl escaped him and Hawks grabbed at your meaty hips, roughly pulling you forward. It didn't take you long to figure out what he was doing; but, your attempts to aid were waisted, for he simply dragged you down to his liking, until the heat of your sex collided with his face ungracefully.

The first thing you registered was his mouth kissing sloppily at your sex. His tongue followed, lapping at your folds impatiently before breaching your heat. Hawks was always the kind to give sloppy oral; but, this was something else entirely.

He moaned shamelessly when his tongue registered your taste, hips rising off the bed as if attempting to chase a sensation that wasn't there.

Your hands fall onto the wall, and you tried to keep yourself up; but, he wasn't having it, growling and pulling you back down. It was difficult to not go dead weight when his tongue was lapping at your walls, mouth suctioned around your entrance like he was trying to suck juices from a ripe fruit.

One of your hands weaved through his hair, gently massaging his scalp in a praising gesture. It was difficult to get out sensible words. Instead, you moaned broken pieces of his name, thighs trembling on either side of his head.

You had no idea how much time had passed before he seemed satisfied and finally lifted you up enough to remove his mouth. The wet gasp that escaped him, suggesting he had been holding his breath, riddled you with shameful lust.

"You made a mess," Hawks observed deliriously.

He sounded immensely pleased with himself and even leaned in to take another taste, this time honing in on your pearl. You felt more than heard his pleased chuckle when you whined at the sudden touch.

This time, when he pulled away, he let you retreat. As you shimmied down his body, you caught him wiping your essence off his face with a careful finger before popping it in his mouth.

Hawks' skin was still flushed red, all the way up to his ears; but, now, he looked damn smug to top it all off. You couldn't see the look you were wearing, but you knew by the heat on your face that it was lewd.

The cold of the cabin had been lost to you, especially when you positioned your hips over his and felt the head of his cock nuzzle at your entrance, threatening to breach your core.

Hawks' head fell back into the sheets with a whine, eyes squeezing shut. Tantalized by the sight, you intended to tease him a little; however, he nudged his hips forward with a sudden jerk, effortlessly impaling you on his cock, and taking that opportunity away.

"Ohhh, fuck!" Hawks shouted before sucking his bottom lip beneath his teeth. He released it after letting out a low hiss.

You closed your own eyes for a moment, adjusting to the sudden intrusion of his impressive girth, and felt his hands slowly slide up your thighs into the dips of your hips, slotting over a spot he had practically engraved for himself ever since this began.

When your eyes opened, you looked down and took in the deliriously beautiful look on his face. His thumbs nudged your hip bones pleadingly and his eyes opened, peering up at you through dark lashes.

Forgoing any thoughts about teasing, you planted your hands on his chest and rolled your hips. The motion punched a whine out of him. The sound drawled out into a growl when you kept the rhythm, chasing your own pleasure.

"Yeah," he hummed encouragingly. "Come on. Use me. Fuck yourself on my cock. Just like - ahh - fuck..."

You hardly needed the encouragement; but, the dirty words spewing from his lips further ignited the heat in your belly, and you whined in response.

He could have easily pulled your hips down to intensify the moment. Instead, he lifted his hips off the bed to meet yours, effortlessly matching your movement and chasing the delicious warmth and wetness of your core, while letting his hands hold you gently.

"Baby, do you feel good?" Hawks uttered lowly, his pleading question gently breaking through the moment.

"Y-ye-s, Kei - go," you sobbed, stuttering out your response and groaning halfway through his name.

It was always good; but, something about this moment made it more intense than ever before. You could already feel the sensation rising, thighs trembling every time his cock slid back inside, hitting the perfect spot again and again.

"Yeah?" he hummed, sounding so breathless and fucked out, despite you having just barely begun. "You feel good, so fucking good," he praised between labored pants and low moans.

"You're so fucking good to me," Hawks babbled on, head falling back into the sheets, where he closed his eyes. You watched his adam's apple bob, noticed how tight his jaw was clenched.

A growl vibrated through his chest, followed by a breathless sympathy of curses, "oh fuck - oh fuck. Come on, fuck my cock - yeah - ahhh. Ya' hear that? Those sounds. God, you're so f-fucking perfect."

Your union was loud, skin slapping together and wet, fleshy sounds echoing between the two of you.

His dominant hand released your hip and slid around, thumb prodding between your folds and seeking out your pearl. You were already so sensitive, feeling him so deep, teetering on the edge. When his calloused skin touched that spot, you let out a cry.

"Come on this cock," Hawks groaned. "Sooo close - f-fuck. Come on. Come for me. Fucking come. Gonna fill you up. You want that? My seed. Yeah you fucking d-hnn-"

His babbling ceased when your orgasm took you, the sudden spasms and fluttering of your walls making all sensible thoughts drain from his mind.

His hand returned to your hip, fingers gripping your waist, and he started roughly dragging you up and down to meet his thrusts. You went limp, letting him bounce you on his cock to your liking. Your hands slipped off his chest and you fell onto him, forehead knocking gently against his cheek.

You could hear him huffing and grunting, the occasional growl seeping through, right into your ear as he fucked you through your orgasm, and continued on, chasing his end.

His cock throbbed, firmly enough that you felt it and the sensation startled you a little; but, that thought was lost when he let out an uncharacteristically loud shout, crying out in ecstasy.

Hawks had always been loud; but, this was something else entirely, and the moans and growls didn't stop, along with his undulating hips, for what felt like an eternity.

To top it all off, you could feel it, spurts of his seed, burning hot as it filled you. In the corner of your eye, you could make out his feathers, each and every one trembling beneath him.

Then, finally, he went still.

Hawks' panting filled the room, almost loud enough to drown out the crackling of the fireplace. Even after his panting died down, he let out quiet groans, his orgasm having not yet waned in full.

Eventually, he turned his head and pressed a wet kiss against your cheek. You turned your head to meet him, at first catching the corner of his mouth before he angled his head to kiss you properly.

You could practically feel the praises behind each kiss, thank you's and love pouring from his mouth to yours in a nonverbal gesture. His hands ran up and down your back, massaging your skin but also ensuring that you didn't move and he remained deep inside you.

When he finally released your lips, you busied your hands with his wild mane, gently pushing strands away from his face. He seemed to like the preening, letting his eyes flutter shut and head fall back.

You didn't have to ask if he was feeling better. His all-body, harsh red blush had mellowed out and he wasn't panting like a parched dog.

You hadn't realized you were still trembling until he uttered, "it's okay," in a soothing, worried voice.

His hands shifted to your thighs, where he carefully pushed them back and rolled you onto your side, keeping his cock nuzzled deep. His arms wound around your back, bringing you into an embrace while his wings stretched out behind him before sagging comfortably to the bed.

You realized, as he brought you in, that you were still shaking a little. The worry was evident in his eyes, like he had done something wrong.

"D-do you want me to pull out?" he offered in a weak voice.

"It's not that," you replied softly. "That was... intense."

When your eyes locked with his gold orbs, and he took in the sight of your expression, it seemed to steadily become clear to him, what you were feeling. His lips sought our your skin, senselessly kissing whatever he could reach, all over your cheeks, down your chin and along the expansion of your throat.

Hawks’ head fell onto the pillow and his wispy blonde hair tangled with yours. The unease began to fade away as he held you close, bringing the blanket back over your forms when his intense heat finally started to wane. So did the spell, and something concerning struck him.

"Please, tell me if it gets too intense," Hawks uttered, breath fluttering out against your temple. “I’ll-...”

He cut himself because he wasn’t quite what he would do, what he could do. Could he stop? In this moment of clear thoughts, he sure hoped so. But, part of him feared that wasn’t true, and the last thing he wanted was to lie to you about what he was capable of.

You had figured that he had yet to hit the apex of his rut. Yet, his warnings hadn't frightened you in the slightest, especially after what had just occurred. If anything, you were enticed by it. Maybe, in some strange way, it was affecting you to.

"I can handle you," you promised.

You felt more so than heard the uneasy breath that stuttered out his nostrils. Your words stirred something deep in his gut, overcoming the fear, burning arousal and adoration.

#takami keigo x reader #takami keigo smut #takami keigo x you #hawks x reader #hawks smut #takami keigo fanfiction

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nationalharryleague · 3 years

Text

The Busy Bean

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Coworkers to lovers AU

Word count: 5.6K

A/N: Hi all! This is my entry for Sadie’s (@meetmeinfleetwood) To Lovers Fic Challenge!! As always, many thanks to Mia (@hardcandy-harry) and Lu (@meetmymouth even tho shes taking a little break lol) for being wonderful betas!! I really love it and I hope you enjoy it too! You can find more of my writing in my masterlist and I would love to hear what you think (or anything else lol) in my ask!

***

The first day at a new job is a universally terrifying experience.

You can’t sleep the night before, head full of nightmare scenarios of evil customers and mean bosses, and a swirl of anxiety continues to bubble in the pit of your stomach, refusing to slow or calm. There's a part of you that prays they will call and tell you that they don’t need your help anymore, despite how bad you need the money. But the call never comes, and the next day you stand in front of the building, desperately trying to take deep breaths and slow your heart rate, bracing yourself for whatever is to come whenever you enter.

This is where Y/N was today, in a mess of shaky palms with slight blue bags under her eyes from a lack of sleep that wouldn’t disappear no matter how hard her concealer tried. She stood in front of the large plate glass window of the cafe, sneaking glimpses and trying to prepare herself for whatever awaited before she actually reached to take the door handle. With a glance at her watch that signaled it was time for her to arrive, she took one last deep breath and entered the small but cozy space.

The cafe itself wasn’t open yet, devoid of customers with only a few lights behind the counter on, but it was full of the delightful and familiar smell of coffee that swirled around her head. The wall to her left was an exposed brick that had been painted white with a long table running along it with stools tucked underneath and a long cafe counter ran the length of the shop to her right. The far back wall of the shop was a giant book shelf with books stacked from the bottom of the top, arranged in a rainbow pattern along each shelf. The store was unbearably charming.

“Hello?” she felt herself call out softly into the empty space. Her voice came out slightly timid, her anxious mind not giving her lips full permission to speak.

She listened to a shuffling and a distant voice muttering “shit,” that seemed to be coming from a door that sat behind the counter where the few lights had been turned on. Before long, a man with curly hair popped his head out from the back hallway, giving her a wide dimpled smile. “Just give me a minute!” he said, holding up his pointer finger for a second, before disappearing back into the hall. After a few more moments of shuffling and muffled cursing, he reappeared. His face held the same dimpled grin as before.

“You must be Y/N,” he said, reaching out a hand for her to shake across the counter. “Boss man said you would be starting today.”

“That’s me,” she spoke gently, still apprehensive in the new surroundings. She placed her hand in his and he shook it with a friendliness she hadn’t expected from her first couple minutes in a new work space. His hand was warm and his nails were painted a bright and sunshiny yellow.

“I’m Harry. It’s great to meet you!” His voice was deep, but light and enthusiastic, far too excited for the early morning calm that she had been reveling in on her walk to the shop.

She decided quickly that he looked like a ‘Harry’ and that his name matched his cheerful disposition. His green eyes shined, even in the relatively dim early morning light that illuminated the room through the front window, and they held a disarming and calming quality that slowed her heart rate for the first time since she had woken up.

“You too.” She forced a smile onto her lips, hoping to conceal the first day jitters that ran through her system.

“Don’t worry about your first day,” he read her like a book. “Everyone here is very nice and you have the best trainer in the world.”

“I’m assuming that’s you?” she questioned, letting out a light chuckle.

“Well, of course it is.”

She was slightly taken aback by the peculiar, yet undeniably charming, man that stood across the counter from her. He was dressed in a loose fitting black sweater that looked cozy and soft, paired with wide-legged tan slacks, all covered with a dark green apron that had the cafe’s logo on the chest. The Busy Bean was embroidered in a light yellow sitting above a mug with a bumble bee on it; it was charming and cute, fitting in well with the plethora of plants and flowers that filled the cafe.

He must have noticed her staring at the logo. “You like the name?” he asked her, pointing at the logo that sat on his chest. She nodded softly, a smile finding its way on to her lips. “We’re going to be very busy beans in about,” he paused to check his watch, “thirty minutes when we open. So put this on,” he slid her very own apron across the counter, “and let's get ready.”

Harry wasn’t lying when he said they were going to be busy.

While the shop had intentionally started her on a Saturday morning when it was usually a bit slower, the morning rush came in and threw her for a tizzy. She took orders and ran them to tables for what seemed like hours, kept far away from the coffee bar as she was unsure of how to make all of the drinks yet. But thankfully, she wasn’t alone.

Soon after opening, another woman arrived, wearing the same dark green apron that matched Y/N and Harry’s. She had long dark hair that fell to the small of her back and in gentle waves and glowing mocha skin with golden eyes. She introduced herself as Isla, with a warm and friendly smile, and stationed herself behind the counter, making drink after drink that smelled intoxicatingly delicious. Y/N thanked god, or whatever was out there, that she and Harry had someone else to help them out while customers flowed in and out of the shop.

Harry hung by her side for the entirety of the morning rush, carefully watching her every move, and gently redirecting her when she seemed to make a mistake. He was kind and she could tell that he genuinely wanted her to learn, not just to do a job well for efficiency’s sake. There was never a trace of frustration on his features, just patience and good will.

Around noon, the flood of patrons looking for their morning coffee began to slow, finally giving Y/N an opportunity to rest. She flopped herself down on a stool that sat behind the counter and released a long sigh, stretching her neck and slumping her shoulders. She was met by sympathetic giggles coming from her two new co-workers.

“Honey,” Isla began with a hint of pity in her voice, “that was nothing.”

“What did I get myself into?” Y/N chuckled through a groan, putting her face in her hands out of exhaustion.

“I promise it gets easier,” Harry chimed in, always one to calm someone’s anxieties. “You just need to get into the swing of things.”

“What I need to do is learn how to make all the fancy coffees that people keep asking me for,” she said, peeking through her fingers at her still amused coworkers.

A look was passed between the two of them, Isla eventually moving out of the way and motioning for Harry to take over the coffee bar. “Come on Baby Barista, lets teach you some of the basics.”

His nickname for her made her release a loud laugh, immediately stifling it to a few giggles when she realized she had caused a few patrons to look up and over at her. Her cheeks warmed instantly, embarrassed for disturbing them, and she added another item to the list of things she was learning never to do again with customers in the store.

He guided her over to the counter full of machinery including pots of coffee, hot water, an espresso machine, and more equipment she couldn’t even identify. He spoke to her gently and gave her all his attention, carefully talking her through how to make a few of the most ordered drinks. Other than almost burning herself a couple times, she was starting to get the hang of it. She had a very hard time wiping the smile off of her face after Harry taste tested each one and gave his seal of approval.

“Not bad, Baby Barista,” he complimented with a dimpled smile and a slight nod after she handed him what she believed was a caramel latte. She reveled in his praise, wanting to do her job well, but also loving his approval and the nickname he had now assigned to her.

They did this coffee lesson for a few more hours, as the shop slowed to almost a complete stop as they got closer to closing time. Isla had headed home and there were only a few stragglers left that had spent their days working or reading in the cafe as the sun began to set around 5pm, with closing at 6. Harry diligently continued to teach her as much as he could in one day as they began to close up the shop and get ready for the next day. He was easy to talk to and their conversation seemed to flow effortlessly as they swept and did dishes.

“So, what brought you to London?” he asked after a short lul, looking at her with an inquisitive look, the ever present dimple on his cheek and grin on his lips disarming her easily.

“Oh, you know,” she stumbled over her words slightly, “I just needed a fresh start.”

“No mysterious or heartbreaking backstory I need to know about?” he quipped, a questioning eyebrow perched on his forehead. She let out another loud laugh, deciding not to quiet herself this time as there was only one customer left in the store.

“No,” she chuckled, shaking her head as she swept. “I got dumped in a small town and needed to get away from them. It was like they were around every corner.” She wasn’t sure why she was telling him this, but he just had a way of pulling the truth from her. “I always dreamed of living here and the breakup was the kick in the ass I needed to actually do it.”

“I’m glad you made it here, but I’m sorry about the breakup.”

“Don’t be,” she smiled. “Definitely for the best.”

“Okay, then I won’t be.” His eyes had a mischievous glint behind them, but she couldn’t exactly place what he was getting at.

They worked together in a comfortable silence after that, making sure everything was ready for the morning to come and clean from the day that was leaving. Y/N covered a yawn as Harry told her that she was done for the day.

As she clocked out and gathered her things, she heard Harry’s voice as she moved towards the exit. “Do you live close by? I can give you a ride if you need. Don’t want you having to walk too far in the dark.” His offer was sweet and made her smile.

“I’m pretty close and I like the walk.” She grabbed onto the handle of the front door but couldn’t make herself leave just yet. “Thank you for being so patient with me today, Harry,” she said looking back towards him and connecting their eyes. She tried to convey her emotions to him on her face, something she wasn’t always very good at.

“No problem. We’re happy to have you here, Baby Barista.”

With a final nod and a light flush to her cheeks, she set off down the street towards her new flat. It wasn’t a long walk, just long enough to get a little chill in her bones from the cold winter air and to turn her nose into a small icicle.

She reflected on her first day as she walked. She liked Isla, and really liked Harry. And while she was very busy, it was good busy, not the type of busy that depletes your energy and makes you want to fall over at the end of the day. It was a kind of busy that kept her on her toes, ready to learn, and develop a skill.

Her thoughts were broken through when she noticed the old beat up red car that seemed to be following her down the road. It drove slowly, as if it didn’t want it to see her, and took extra long at intersections like it was hoping to stay behind her. She took a turn she didn’t need to at the next block, and another after that, and when the car continued to follow, her heart began to race.

She thought about running, or going up to a pedestrian and asking for help; she even considered calling her mum just to stay on the phone with her until she got home. It wasn’t until she recognized the green eyes and dimples behind the wheel that her heart began to slow. She turned around fully then, making eye contact with the man who had been following her, and crossing her arms in front of her and shooting a questioning eyebrow up at him.

He wore a look of shame as his car slowed to a stop in the street next to her.

“Excuse me sir,” she said sarcastically, bending over to look in the window and get a better look at his embarrassed rosey cheeks. “Why were you following me?”

“I wasn’t being a creep, I promise,” he quickly defended. “This neighborhood gets a little dangerous at night and I just wanted to make sure you got home safe.” He looked panicked and frazzled, clearly not planning on being caught. It was the first time she had seen him without a smile on his face all day.

“Harry, you were the thing that was making me feel unsafe,” she said, playfully scolding him through giggles. She watched as his face fell in a flood of relief that she wasn’t angry with him. “If you told me that you were going to follow me home anyway, I would have taken the ride.”

“I’m sorry.” He hung his head and ran a stressed hand through his curls.

“It’s okay, Harry,” she smiled softly. “I appreciate you caring enough to make sure I got home.” She rested a hand on the passenger side door handle. “And now you’re going to drive me the rest of the way home to make up for making me get off my normal route,” she laughed as she pulled on the handle and settled herself into the passenger seat.

The car was old, but clean and it smelled like the cologne he wore that she had picked up on a few times throughout the day. He was quiet, hanging his head like a child who had been caught with his hands in the cookie jar, as she directed him towards her flat. “I’m sorry, again,” was all he said when he pulled up in front of the building.

“Don’t be,” she smirked, using the same words she had earlier in the day when discussing her breakup. She exited the car, giving him a wave, and a call of “I’ll see you tomorrow,” before entering the building and shutting the door behind her.

***

Over the next few weeks, Harry and Y/N became fast friends.

After about a week of begging, she finally broke down and allowed him to pick her up and drive her home from work every day. Their morning rides consisted of the perpetually peppy and excitable morning person in the driver's seat blabbering on about something he saw on the news while he was getting ready or going on about a new book he was reading, while she would settle her still sleepy head on the window and rest her eyes for just a few more minutes before their day was forced to begin. At the end of the day, Harry was the quiet one, letting her recount the day (usually complaining about unruly customers or people that would sit and steal their wifi all day without ordering anything), while he drove her at a painfully slow pace to her flat. He always waited until she got inside the building, even asking her to text him when she got inside her tiny flat.

“I just want to make sure you got inside safe,” he would argue when she teased him about it.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” she would rebut.

“Then I’m not coming to help you anymore when you can’t figure out the milk steamer, Baby Barista.”

“Don’t threaten me with that stupid milk steamer. It has so many buttons you need to work for NASA to understand it,” she would groan, only to be met with a teasing glare from the curly man next to her. “Fine, I take it back,” she would always concede.

His protectiveness was not unwelcome to her. If she was being honest with herself, Harry was the only real friend she had made since she made the move to London and she was quickly becoming heart crushingly lonely. She took any care that anyone in the new and scary city was willing to give her with open arms.

He was her only friend. They got on so well, she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed the extra few minutes she spent with him every morning and evening in the car. Maybe even a little too much.

At work, there was usually a chorus of laughter and giggles coming from their direction as Harry had taken her under his wing while she learned the ropes. There were days they would stay late after they had been off the clock making drinks over and over again; him patiently teaching, and her desperately trying to learn. There were definitely a few failures along the way, but they were always met with a teasing joke and then careful step-by-step directions on how she could fix it.

Technically Harry was her boss, store manager to be specific, but they worked alongside each other seamlessly, him never barking orders at her or using a harsh or authoritative tone.

Until today.

Y/N had been talking to one of their regulars, Robby, after she delivered an Americano to his table in the corner while it was particularly slow. Robby came in often, always shooting Y/N a bright smile and peppering compliments into their quick conversations. He was gorgeous, she couldn’t deny that; he had deep brown skin and an athletic build that she was sure was muscular under the thick sweater he was wearing to protect him from the cold. But he wasn’t her type, a little too arrogant and self-obsessed for her liking, always figuring out a way to turn their quick conversations back to himself. While it was fun to flirt with him, she knew it would never go any further than that.

“When do you get off?” Robby had asked suddenly, derailing their conversation away from the drink she had just delivered him. “I would love to take you out and see you in something other than that god awful apron.”

“Hey! I quite like my apron,” she playfully feigned offense, reaching to lightly swat him on the arm. “And while I appreciate your offer, I just got out of something pretty long term and I’m really not looking for anything right now. I’m sorry, Robby.” She forced a friendly pout onto her face, pretending like she was actually sorry for denying him.

Before he could respond, she heard an annoyed voice call her name from behind the counter. Whipping her head around to see who it was, she found Harry wearing an annoyed and frustrated face she had never seen him make before, especially not directed towards her. “We need some help back here. You have a job to do, remember?” he scolded, eyebrows furrowed and jaw steeled.

Her cheeks flushed white hot, embarrassed to be reprimanded like that in front of the whole shop. She hung her head in shame as she quickly walked back behind the counter. She was beyond embarrassed, suddenly uncomfortable in a place she had finally begun to come into her own in. She was learning and doing a good job, at least that was what she had been told, by both Isla and Harry; but the uneasy feeling in her stomach kept her from feeling comfortable for the rest of the day.

She carefully and quietly navigated behind the counter for the rest of her shift, sheepishly doing her best to stay out of her coworkers’ way and just do her job.

For the first time, she was slapped in the face with the reality that Harry wasn’t just her friend; he was her boss. He had an authority over her, and could probably get her in trouble with the owner, or even fired if he really wanted to. Navigating a business-like relationship was awkward and abnormal for them both, but Y/N decided she needed to learn how to quickly.

There was another reason his silent treatment seemed to hurt, one that Y/N had been trying her best to ignore. An undeniable crush had begun to build in her for the bright and bubbly man, despite however hard she had tried to fight it.

Harry made her feel safe, always keeping an eye out for her and trying to make sure she was alright. He made her laugh more than anyone she had ever known and their chemistry together felt electric. But what warmed her heart, and what now hurt the most, was that it felt like he cared about her just as much as she cared for him.

But now, it all felt like a fairytale she had built up in her head.

Their usual banter and giggles fell quiet for the rest of their day, reducing to curt directions from Harry and understanding hums from Y/N, following his orders without question or comment. Even Isla was quiet, not daring to breach the tension the pair had created between themselves.

The car ride home was quiet and strained that day.

But she still texted him when she was safe inside her flat.

***

While she had prayed that the next day would be like any other, their morning ride to work was filled with much of the same silence.

Harry fiddled with the heat and the radio in an effort to avoid her eyes or having to make conversation, eventually settling on a station that was playing old classic rock she didn’t recognize. He drove like she wasn’t even in the car, staring silently ahead at the road. She sat stiffly in the passenger seat fiddling with her fingers, not daring to get comfortable in a space that was all his.

At work, they both held tight to the tension, only muttering at each other when absolutely necessary. She kept her head down and just did what she was told to do.

She was at the counter when a woman approached the coffee bar, seeming to bark her order for an extra hot cappuccino with extra foam at Y/N. Her face was twisted into an angry pout, like she had just smelled something bad, and spat her words out her words. Y/N just nodded and breathed a “yes, maam,” unable to fight with any nasty customers today while her head was so occupied with Harry. She was off her game.

The woman hovered at the counter, watching intensely and tapping her foot impatiently as Y/N fought with the dreaded milk steamer attachment to one of their large industrial machines. She would have sworn that she pressed the extra hot setting.

Passing the full mug to the woman at the register, Y/N watched as she took a long sip of the drink before paying, something that wasn’t really allowed, but Y/N just didn’t have the fight in her today to reprimand her.

“That will be £2,” Y/N spoke softly with as much sweetness as she could muster, afraid of what could come out of the woman’s mouth. She watched as her face turned even more sour than before after she finished the long drag from the cup.

“I’m not paying for this,” she declared, nose stuck high in the air.

“I’m sorry?” Y/N asked with confusion clear in her voice. “Is there something wrong with it?”

“It’s not extra hot and there is no extra foam.”

“Okay, I’m very sorry about that,” she said apologetically, even though she knew for a fact the drink had both of those things, and released an exhausted sigh. “I will make you another.”

The woman’s eyes flicked down the counter in Harry’s direction, rudely snapping her fingers at him to catch his attention. He was hunched over the back counter, somehow worsening his already terrible posture, trying to eat a sandwich as fast as he could before his break was over. “Are you her boss?” she shouted at him, even though he could have heard her without raising her voice at him.

Y/N’s eyes were already filled with anxiety when Harry connected his with her’s, seeming to wordlessly ask what was going on and Isla watched on in terror. She felt her body try to shrink away from the woman before her and Harry as he came closer.

“I’m the store manager. Is there something going on that I could help with?” His eyes kept flashing back and forth between Y/N and the woman, trying to decipher the situation without words.

“I want you to remake my drink.”

“I’m actually on a break-”

“No,” she cut him off mid-sentence. “If she makes my drink again, she is just going to fuck it up all over again. She’s obviously incompetent.”

Y/N eyes flew open at her words, a mix of shock and hurt running through her. With her heart beginning to race, never one for confrontation, she wanted to melt into the floor and disappear all together.

Harry’s face hardened at the woman as she hurled insults towards Y/N. Stepping in front of her, as if putting his body between her and the woman could protect her from her harsh words, he took a deep breath before he began to speak again. “First of all, you will not speak to anyone who works here like that,” he defended her. “Second, I’m sure she’s completely capable of making your drink again if you give her a moment.”

“I don’t want her to make it and I have places to be,” she continued to fight. “I don’t have time for some pathetic newbie to give it another try.”

Her comments hit Y/N hard in her existing feelings of inadequacy and before she knew it, her vision was beginning to blur. She felt like this woman was repeatedly kicking her while she was already down.

“You have to leave.”

Harry’s voice was angry. It wasn’t the frustration or annoyance she had heard the day before, and it was a far departure from the kind and patient tone she had grown to love since she began working at the shop. It was full of anger, something she had never heard from him and an emotion she hadn’t even been sure he could feel before this point.

“I’m not leaving until I get another drink that’s correct and free.”

“I will call the cops if you don’t leave right now.”

Y/N couldn’t stand to watch this unfold before her any longer. An anxious weight had settled on her chest and she had felt the tears begin to roll. She was gone from the counter, running towards the soundproof walk-in fridge in the back hall. She planned on shutting herself inside and sobbing until she froze.

She stood in the freezing chill, holding her arms tight to her frame, desperate to keep herself warm and shield herself from the wrath that was playing out in the cafe. The cold seemed to ground her and the distance she had put between herself and the woman eased her stress, but the tears continued to flow as her eyes ran over the stock of the fridge in an attempt to distract herself.

A knock came from outside the heavy metal door that startled her, a soft and patient voice that she knew so well called through. “Y/N, are you okay? Can I come in?”

After doing her best to wipe the tears off her raw and cold cheeks, she choked out a small “yes.”

The door carefully opened and she was met with a soft and empathetic gaze from the only person she wanted to comfort her. He breathed a soft “come here,” before he opened his arms wide. She bolted into them, letting his giant frame envelop her whole in the warmth that always radiated from him. Y/N let herself weep softly into his chest as the dizzying scent of his cologne took over her senses.

He held her close to him for a few moments, letting her get all her emotions out, before releasing her body and taking her face into his somehow still warm hands, using his thumbs to swipe away a few more tears that had managed to escape.

“I don’t think that I even messed her drink up,”she broke the silence, feeling pathetic as he held her in his hands.

“I know you didn’t. She won’t be coming back.”

“Thank you for defending me,” she said, hiccuping as she stared into his comforting eyes. “I feel so stupid. I’m sorry.” She went to pull away, but he continued to hold her close.

“No, this is all my fault,” he shook his head slightly, eyebrows drawn together in concern. “If I hadn’t been such a dick yesterday then none of this would have happened. I’m so sorry.” His eyes held honesty, determined to be granted absolution by the girl before him.

“I don’t like it when we don’t get along,” she squeaked. “I really don’t like it when you yell at me and make me feel like I’m not doing my job well.”

He sighed hard, his face looking like his brain was going a mile a minute. “I have to be honest with you,” he confessed. “I wasn’t acting like an asshole yesterday because you weren't doing your job; you were just doing fine. I was upset you were flirting with that guy.”

She felt her lips fall into a small ‘oh.’ While she hadn’t meant anything by what she thought was harmless flirting, Harry hadn’t known that. The frustration and annoyance she had heard was in actuality all jealousy.

“You were jealous?” she asked softly, bringing a hand up to hold over one of his own that were still holding her face.

“Well, yeah,” he said with an awkward shrug. “I just thought that there might be something between us.”

He looked so adorable like this, slightly uncomfortable and shy. She looked at him intensely as an excited bubble began to form in her stomach at the idea that this massive crush had been mutual the whole time.

“There is.”

She couldn’t hold back her smile any longer, a grin breaking out onto her face as she nodded at him. The cold of the fridge was no longer nipping at her skin, her whole body radiating a flattered and excited blush of heat. The screaming she had just endured felt long behind her although it had only been a few minutes.

He mirrored her giddy expression. She watched as all the tension in his face began to melt away in relief and it reminded her of the look on his face when she teased him after he followed her home that first day.

“Oh, thank god,” he breathed. “I was so worried that you were going to friendzone me forever.”

“I thought you were going to employee-zone me,” she chuckled.

“Are you going to kiss me or keep staring?”

A wide cheeky smile stretched across his lips, before she reached up and connected hers to his. The kiss was caring and sweet, but it felt like it sealed something she had been feeling since the first day they had met.

Their lips moved smoothly against each other, interrupted occasionally by a smile one of them couldn’t contain or a giggle that slipped from one of their mouths. She wasn’t nervous or overwhelmed by his proximity. She was so comfortable in his embrace. He was her best friend, after all.

They broke apart after a few moments, giant grins plastered on their faces that neither of them could manage to wipe away. “I liked that a lot,” Harry beamed, a boyish flush to his cheeks.

“Me too,” she mirrored him.

They spent a few more minutes in the fridge, swirling in a daze of infatuation and affection. “Do you think anyone heard us?” he asked softly, looking over towards the large metal door that had been left open a crack, before it flung open and they were met with a thrilled Isla.

“Yes, I heard you!” she exclaimed. “It’s about time!”

Thank you so much for reading! Feedback/Reblogs mean the world!!

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #one direction #one direction fanfiction #harryandhockey #my writing #to lovers fic challenge

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thatguy03 · 3 years

Text

Muscle Growth Formula has a Fat Side Effect - Male tf

"Detective Bailey" he said to himself, "I like the sound of that." Bailey had been a beat cop for a while now, but saw a potential promotion coming in his future. He had done really well in the entry exams and has done a good job on duty, so he really saw a chance to become detective. "We have a break-in reported at the science lab on elmwood and Preston street," he heard over the radio. "I'm on it," he said eagerly. He was excited everytime a call near him came in because he felt he could prove himself. Little did he know there was no intruder, it was all part of a plan of a scheming scientist.

Eric had stayed late in the lab to finalize his latest project, or at least an early version of it. It is a muscle growth formula, meant to help people easily get big without having to commit to going to the gym. His prototype had potential, but testing on animals was not sufficient and human testing was seen as inhumane. Although it was inhumane, Eric would stop at nothing to make this formula work. But he needed a way to get a test subject without anyone knowing, and kidnapping someone was too much effort. He had the idea of getting a police officer in, it would be easy to call in a robbery or break in to get one cop to come, and they would be fit enough to be a good subject. He checked through the local police files and looked for the highest performing cops in physical fitness. This led him to officer Bailey, he was in peak fitness and was often station near the lab. Eric called in a break in before messing up his lab to make it look like a break in.

Officer Bailey pulled up to the front of the lab seeing the door wide open and the locks broken. Bailey pulled out his gun and made his way through the lab, weary of a potential armed assailant. As he made his say through the lab, it seemed as though the trail was leading him in a specific direction, but figured that the assailant probably took that route through the lab. He finally made it to a weird looking room that appeared to be a dead end. He scouted the room, noting a large mirror on one side of the room, but not much else. He went to turn back and check another room, but the door had closed behind him, it was locked. He was about to shoot the lock before he noticed a vent open in the corner of the room.

Eric had locked the door behind him before running to room with the two way mirror so he could keep tabs on him. He opened the vent to the room Bailey was in and released the muscle growth formula that he had made into gas form.

Bailey went to investigate the vent, but quickly got caught in a cloud of gas. It smelt great, he thought, it was very relaxing. He eased up and pit his gun away, completely forgetting why he was there. The gas sent a tingly feeling through his body. Soon he noticed his shirt getting a little tight around his arms and his chest, it was weird because he had just bought a new uniform and it fit fine before. His traps started to grow making his neck look huge, and his pecs became massive and beefy causing his now tight shirt to ride up and expose his belly button. His biceps had become the size of small watermelons by now, his shirt started rip around his shoulders, which had now broadened. He went to feel at his growing pecs and noticed his hands had gotten bigger, they made him feel so much stronger. Even his thighs were stretching his pants out, and his feet were ripping through his shoes. Bailey wanted to feel concerned by the sudden muscle growth, but it felt too good care. Even his already fat ass puckered up making perfectly round bulges in the back of his pants.

As Baileys muscles were growing out if control, he also noticed an itch on his face. His previously well trimmed facial hair had grown out into a full beard. He watched as thick dark hairs started growing all over his body, his arms, chest, stomach grew a thick layer hair. Though he could feel the hair growing everywhere on his body. The hair growth was an unexpected side effect, but Eric still considered it a success.

As Bailey was checking out his new furry six pack, he noticed another tingly feeling in his stomach, maybe he was going to get more muscle. But to his surprise, his stomach instead ballooned out. First looking a little bloated, then having a beer belly bigger than his dads. His stomach kept expanding to the point that he looked obese, his stomach started riding up his shirt, exposing most of his hairy ball gut and his love handles which now petruded well past the waist of his pants, Bailey through off his vest and lifted up his shirt to expose his meaty pecs which then grew fat and started to sag to the side. He wanted to be sacred by the extreme gain in fat, but it felt even better than the muscle growth. He watched in the mirror as his perfectly defined jaw lined disappeared under a layer of fat, and his cheeks puffed out eith fat making his face match his ebese torso. He turned around to notice his perfectly chiseled upper pile on a layer of fat that caused a fold under his arms where his moobs are. His lower back got even fatter as to match his love handles. He turned to face the mirror again and started to play with his new found ball belly, it was the size of a beach ball and had a patch of hair surrounding his expanded belly button. The feeling of rubbing his giant hands through the layer of fur, and bouncing his oversized paunch was the best feeling he had ever felt.

Eric was concerned that his formula had such drastic side effects, but it was so hot that he didnt seem to care for his failed experiment. Although he did realize that Bailey would not fit in his clothes much longer and brought out some bigger clothes for him.

Bailey didnt care for the new clothes cause he love the feeling of his police uniform tight against his fat bod. Though he would soon need them as his ass started to grow. Each cheek ballooned out ripping through his pants, exposing two oversized hairy ass cheeks. His pants fell exposing his hard 6 incher, which was decent, but wouldnt last. His dick doubled in size in a matter of seconds, shooting up to a massive 12 inches. Bailey couldnt resist how good it felt to rub his man hands up and down his member. Rubbing one hand on his hairy gut and the other on his goliath of a dick, it didnt take ling to shoot his load on the mirror. His thighs then blew up with fat, making it hard for him to walk. He now had to waddle with his legs spread apart for his massive thighs not to rub against eachother.

As Eric happily watched Baileys transformation, he couldnt help but notice a tingly feeling in his stomach. He didnt notice earlier, but when he went in the room to give Bailey his clothes, there was still some gas in the room. He thought he would make the most of it and injected himself with the formula before running into the room with Bailey. He walked in the room to see Bailey was now 6'5 500 pounds of pure muscle and fat, his arms were the size of large watermelons. He had already outgrown the clothes Eric gave him.

Bailey picked Eric up turned him around, feeling as Eric grew. Eric felt Baileys 12 inch dick being pushed into him. With every thrust Eric grew. His stomach grew out ripping through his shirt, revealing a hairy pot belly that rivaled Baileys, it grew so big that it hung over his waist line. His man tits got covered in so much fur that skin was barely visible, and they sagged until they rested on his gut, his nipples growing to 5 times the size, they were even bigger than Baileys. Everytime Bailey pushed his dick inside Eric, Eric's body rippled as his obese body shook. His arms grew strong and his hands doubled in size, each finger packed with so much fat that they looked like sausages. His ass grew with every clap, hugging Baileys dick as he shot his load into Eric. His transformation was finally complete, it left looking like a fat pig. He was now 6' 350 pounds of pure fat. He hadnt gotten as much muscle as Bailey, but made up for it in fat. He now had three chins covered in a scruffy beard, a hulking gut and furry moobs that couldnt be contained by any clothes he and in the lab, sausage like man hands, thick thighs, and a fat hairy ass that could barely fit in the largest pair of shorts he owned.

Eric ordered the biggest clothes he could find online as he released more of the serum into the room. He was ready to have the time of his life with Bailey.

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berrynarrybanana · 4 years

Text

hypocrite - h.s blurb

A/N: This is my entry for @oh-honey-styles fic slam challenge. I wanted to write smut, but I was watching Dharma and Greg and this just happened, okay. I hope that you all enjoy this and that you’re taking care of yourselves on such a stressful day. My inbox is always open if you need me and I love you all loads. Thank you Anne for hosting this beautiful challenge to keep us all happy and distracted. You’re amazing!

Word Count: 1k+ (I’m sorry, I have no self control)

Included: Friends to Lovers

Prompts: “Marry Me” / “I’m in love with you” / “I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression” / “Can I kiss you”

I can’t really remember when I met Harry.

There were a plethora of options for a possible meeting place to occur. Between pubs that we both visited regularly and parties hosted by mutual friends, it was hard to pinpoint exactly when or where we met. All I really remember is that he wasn’t in my life and then one day, he was. He appeared in the form of a random text after a night of heavy partying.

Unknown Number: Thanks for being my karaoke partner last night.

After a thorough investigation using my camera roll, I put the pieces together. There was a video of me singing karaoke with Harry Styles -clearly filmed by Nick Grimshaw- from a very unflattering angle. His arm was tossed around my shoulder and his smile was bright. We were sharing a microphone, singing Rich Girl by Hall and Oates, extremely out of key.

Watching the video brought a smile to my face, but it also left me with red cheeks when I noticed how I effortlessly kissed his cheek towards the end of the video as if I had been doing it for years. After a few texts, I found myself sharing brunch with Harry at a cafe that I visited regularly on my own. We split a large stack of pancakes and a full English breakfast, sharing fuzzy memories of the night before through chuckles and groans.

I learned that morning that Harry was quite possibly the easiest person to be friends with.

He was fun, supportive, and kind to me even though he’d only known me for a few hours. It struck a chord in my heart strings to see someone so genuine and relatable in our shared line of work. Being in the public eye made finding friends like Harry extremely difficult. I never really knew who to trust or what intentions people had.

That was the beauty of being friends with Harry. I never had to wonder what his intentions were or if he liked me for me. I always knew that I could call him at any hour of the day and he would still answer. I knew that if I needed to cry or scream or shout, he’d be there to listen with open ears and arms. He was everything that I needed in my person.

“I just think that Dharma and Greg are what I need in life.” I reached for another salt and malt vinegar chip, chomping down on it as Harry sipped at his wine. “They’re so effortlessly in love, aren’t they?”

“I suppose.” He nodded. “S’crazy how they just got married on their first date though. I could never do that.”

“Sure you could.” I bumped his shoulder. “When you know, you know.”

“But it’s not…” He pursed his lips, tilting his head to the side as he thought. “It’s not really normal.”

“Fuck normal.” I snorted out a laugh. “Since when do you care about normal?”

“Alright then,” He put his takeout box on the table, angling his body towards mine. “Marry me.”

He raised his brows, watching me as I glared at him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. “I like you, you like me, so what’s the difference? We've known each other for much longer than Dharma and Greg-”

“But we’re not in love.” I emphasized. “That is the difference.”

He rolled his lips in, nodding his head before he reached for his food.

I watched him as he grabbed his fork, digging it into saucy noodles silently.

“You okay?”

“Mhm.” He hummed around his noodles, glancing over at me. “S’really good italian food, but I’ve got to stop eating carbs.”

“Harry.” I said slowly. “You’re not going to say anything about-”

“Nope.” He said quickly, wiping at the sauce on his chin with his thumb. “I don’t have anything to say.”

“How about, ‘Y/n, you’re right! I forgot for a second that we aren’t in love. Silly me!’.” I mocked his accent, causing him to glare at me playfully. “Because the way you turned away made me think that maybe-”

“I’m in love with you.” He snorted out a sarcastic laugh, rolling his eyes as he reached for his wine to mask his true feelings. “Sorry I gave you the wrong impression.”

He shrugged his shoulders before taking two large gulps of his wine, causing my eyebrows to raise. I kept my eyes on him as the television show that started our argument kept playing in the background. My palms felt clammy as I watched him fidget in his seat. I felt the gears in my mind grinding, thoughts coming together and emotions surfacing from pits I’d buried them in ages ago.

Of course I had feelings for Harry.

He was my person.

“Harry, can you be serious for a second?” I asked him.

“Darling, I really don’t think we should-”

“Please.” I whispered. “I need you to look at me.”

“Y/N.”

My name fell from his lips in a honeyed tone, his fingers brushing over his bottom lip anxiously. It was a nervous trait of his that I picked up on early in our friendship. I’d seen him do it a million times in interviews when he was in the band, always afraid that he’d say the wrong thing.

“Do you love me?”

There was no point in pussyfooting around it.

He let out a sigh, reaching up to brush his fingers through his hair.

“I’m so in love with you.” It came out in an exasperated huff, his eyes darting over my face as he waited for my response. “I know that we’ve been friends for a long time and there’s a chance that you don’t feel the same, but I can’t stop thinking about what could be if we just tried.”

I blinked back at Harry silently.

“You don’t feel the same.” He stated softly. “I should have known that you didn’t feel that way about me, you’ve never given me reason to think otherwise. I’m such a fucking idiot for thinking that-”

“Can I kiss you?” I blurted out, pinching the fabric of my sweatpants nervously.

His brows raised and I noticed his lips turning up slightly at the corner, causing his dimples to pop out.

“Stop looking at me like that and just kiss me, you idiot.” I rolled my eyes, pressing my palm into his stubbly cheek.

It was a quick peck, barely enough to get a true feeling for it, but it still left me wanting more.

“Again.” I whispered into his mouth, tilting my head slightly until our lips melded together. I tried to fight off my smile when it was done. “Again.”

“Darling.” I felt Harry’s palm slip towards the back of my neck as he let out a breathless chuckle. “You’re killing me.”

“I love you, too.” I pressed my forehead into his, biting my lower lip. “I love you a lot.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He pulled back with a pout, his eyes soft. “How long have you known?”

“Don’t be a hypocrite.” I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t really know until….well, you said something last New Years about how we’d always be in each other’s lives and I’ve never stopped thinking about it. A piece of me has always thought that you were right and that maybe you’re my soulmate.”

“I fell in love with you the night I met you.” He smiled softly. “I felt a bit like Greg when he met Dharma, like worlds were colliding. I remember singing karaoke with you and I just...I felt like I’d met my other half. You’ve always been the person in my life that understands me and supports me, no matter what I’m going through.”

I pressed my lips to his again, giggling when he brushed his thumb over my neck.

“Kissing you is weird,” I confessed as I settled back into my side of the couch, my shoulder a little closer to Harry’s. “I kind of like it though.”

“Thanks.” He snorted out a laugh. “I’m glad you think I’m a weird snogger.”

“It’s just new.” I rolled my eyes, glancing at his face. “I said I liked it.”

“Good.” He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Just wait until I kiss you in other places.”

“Harry!”

#hsficslam #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #harry styles blurb #I'm sorry y'all I wanted something saucy #I hope you think this is cute #also i've been binge watching dharma and greg so #yeah

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lucidpantone · 3 years

Text

Preview: The three sided king

Yes I am still writing this fic and this chapter is almost done. Its super long chapter but here is a preview.

Incase you need to a recap of where we left off: Published Chapters

Aquarias 1470

He is standing on the axis.

Barely visible between the white florets.

It’s soothing on the inside.

Like a concentrated dosage of vitamins and minerals.

The walls surrounding him are lacquered in a mint hue. Cool and expressive, a pigment rumored to remove free radicals from his interior.

The south wing of the palace seemed to suffice.

The Duke’s quarters were generous and ample. For all the Duke’s pomp and circumstance he actually required very little to live comfortably. He had only one request and that his chamber be adorned with white flowers at all times to quench his need to bring beauty to life via his skills on parchment.

Drawing was the only therapy that would help elucidate the Duke’s mind. It would bend time and submerge his troubled thoughts into a state of calm and as he sat in his quarters trying to unravel the enigma that caught him off guard; time got lost like a billow in a breeze and before he knew it a portrait of the prince of swords was looking back at him. Within seconds after laying eyes on the prince he had become the antioxidant for the duke’s deteriorating soul; an unforeseen remedy wrapped up in a beautiful creature with hickory ringlets that fell perfectly past his shoulders and a chocolate gaze complimented by perfectly placed laugh lines.

It’s hard to forget the moment he laid eyes on him. The smell of rain had just smacked him across the chest as he rushed up the stairs to the rotunda. The rate at which the heavens spilled their tears onto the palace courtyard matched the virago of the many scorned women Sander had left behind. As Sander greeted the Duke of Burgundy and his wife the rain began to whip around like a serpent dancing to a siren’s song and thunderclaps began to roll tide across the grey sky.A lightning fork lit up their drop back like an ominous foretelling of their preordained future but in that moment he first caught a glimpse of him and his center of gravity shifted.

His bride-to-be Mary of Burgundy had stepped forward to curtsy for her lord, revealing the prince hidden by her side. Sander instantly fixated on him. The prince had locked his gaze onto the ground. Focusing on something Sander could not see. Sander was in dire need to see every inch of his chiseled features. Sander was discreet in trying to move his gaze from Mary to the prince but he was suddenly nervy and his suave demeanor broke for a matter of seconds when he fumbled out a high pitch overly zealous greeting, "The Prince of Swords. It's nice to make your acquaintance".

The prince broke thought and looked up at Sander with a curious expression. The prince was nothing like Sander imagined him to be. He was a living cypher. A being in need of decoding. A walking enigma. His features were tender and his eyes warm but also hard edged. The initial flicker of warmth the prince had radiated seconds before was quickly replaced by a glacial facade. The prince was cool and collected, beautiful but stone like but one thing was certain the Prince of swords was no brut he was a man capable of dancing on a knife's edge, conquering a nation, riding into battle and becoming a champion. He was much more compact than Sander had expected but in possession of a noticeably stealthy physique. Sander and the prince both got lost in each other’s gaze for a prolonged second as they shook hands when the prince’s father, the Duke of Burgundy, broke the occasion.

“Here, here. I see you have met my son, the prince of swords”

Sander threw the prince a soft smile before breaking his gaze and looking towards the fast approaching Duke Of Burgundy.

“Yes, yes I have my lord”

“Be careful with that one. I know he doesn’t look like much but blink too slow and he’ll have the dagger of Burgundy at your throat.”

As the Duke of Burgundy positioned himself horizontally to Sander’s right shoulder he preemptively began to move Sander towards the long line of courtiers waiting to introduce themselves to him with their high born titles.

Sander took two steps forward alongside the Duke but then paused and quickly turned back and headed back to prince.

It was practically a whisper, the first of many that they would exchange as Sander cloaked their exchange with a secondary handshake and said softly.

“Sander, by the way”

Robbe’s eyes grew wide and his mouth opened a bit in shock as he knew it was uncommon for Duke’s of Sander status to exchange such pleasantries amongst those unknown to their court but he reacted quickly as to not offend the Duke and matched his lords volume.

“Robbe” he sighed out softly.

Sander smiled and in that split second he saw it again. The warmth Robbe had been hiding from the rest of the world.

Sander snapped out of his memories and was back in his quarters surrounded by the mint hues as he heard his chambers doors being pried open.

He quickly stood up off his chair and discarded his parchment and charcoal on it.

As he walked towards the door he recognized the voice on the other side.

Charles’s voice was animating through the chamber doors as rambunctious and cavalier as always as he strolled into Sander’s hideaway.

“My lord---” Charles interrupted Sander with a palm up salute.

“I told you to call me Senne. That’s what my family calls me and you're soon to be family right?”

Sander threw Senne a half baked smile as validation and proceeded to appease his request.

“Of course, Senne.”

Senne clapped his hands together enthusiastically signaling his entourage to show Sander what he came here for.

“Ahhhh… I brought you something for tonight”, Senne called over one of his servants.

The servant laid down a strange looking object on Sander’s bed. As Sander examined it he found it quite a peculiar gift.

“A mask?” Sander questioned wiping all offense from his tone.

“Yes, You’ll be the bull tonight for our masked ball to celebrate your addition to our family.”

Senne’s tone ranged from devilish to persuasive, mercurial to Insidious but Sander knew these overt insults were merely a test of wit and dominance.

To appease the Burgundian duke Sander played coy and shot him a thankful smile and opened his arms wide as he folded them in front of himself and curtsied towards the duke and spoke clearly.

“My lord if you wish me to be the bull. Then the bull I shall be.”

“Good. I think it suits you. Makes you stand out and we wouldn’t want anyone to miss you.” Sander didn’t miss the slight dose of passive aggression laced all over Senne's voice.

“I’ll leave you one of my servants to help you get ready” Sander noted that a mid sized male stepped forward from Senne’s kings guard with large fluffy curls adorning the top of his head.

“Thank you” Sander stated.

Senne and his court began to exit the mint hue room when Senne turned around like he just remembered what he actually came to Sander’s quarters for, “Oh before I forget…. don’t indulge too much on the festivities tonight. I arranged for the Prince to show you around the grounds in the early morning”.

Sander’s ears perked up at the sheer mention of the Prince.

“I’ll be sure to behave myself sire” Sander gives Senne a light nod as Senne turns and heads toward the exit once again.

“My lord would you like help getting dressed for tonight?” Senne’s kingsmen interrupts Sander’s thoughts.

“Yes, of course. I am sorry I didn’t catch your name….”

“Younes, my lord”

“Younes, please call me Sander” Younes gave Sander a soft smile in agreement.

“You should start getting ready Sander. The masquerade ball has been planned for weeks and it's the highlight of the season. Your betrothed has been planning her outfits since it was announced.”

Oh great Sander thinks not only has he been given short notice but now he also needs to pass some predetermined litmus test that the Burgundians have surely been cooking up for him.

He’ll just rely on his bravado and dynamism to survive the occasion.

“So you don’t know what my betrothed will be wearing tonight?”

Younes gently puts his right hand over his heart and softly whispers, “I’ve been sworn to secrecy”.

Sander lets out a soft giggle.

“Ok understandable. Wouldn’t want you to break any pacts.”

“What about the Prince? Do you know what he’ll be wearing?”

“Oh of course but everyone knows that” Younes reassures.

“He’ll be the lion” Younes states matter-of-factly.

“The Prince is always the lion”

“And why is that?” Sander asks curiously.

“Because the prince has never encountered prey he couldn’t kill.There’s a reason they call him the Prince Of Swords…..Don’t let your guard down or he’ll be the death of you.”

----

The darken corridors felt like a labyrinth.

A maze of endless entry and exit points on a journey to nowhere.

The palace was a mere whirlpool of decor that captured the zeitgeist of the time.

Tapestries adorning floor to ceiling windows.

Polished stone staircases.

Portraits of past rulers and the coat of arms of the burgundian nation stapled across every possible crevice of available wall space.

Sander felt like some sort of heretic. He didn’t belong amongst these people. He gave no credence to their cause. If anything he was the antistasis to their campaign secretly lobbying for their demise and permanently obtuse to the burgundian struggle. He knew there was no permanence to this betrothal. He would never allow himself to wed a kin of the three lions. This agreement was merely for show; a pit stop till he got back to his real life.

He sauntered down the palace halls with little regard to their importance, going out of his way to belittle all the objects the burgundians treasured like some sort of ignorant dilettante.

Sander knew he merely had to survive these grasslands. Deem himself a poacher within this big cat habitat. Become merciless and when an opening presents itself, drive an arrow through the heart of a lion but first he would need to learn how not to become the prey.

He came out of nowhere.

Hidden by the cover of night.

He was observing him from the end of the long hallway. The lion standing at ready. Taking him in. He wore a burnt orange colored cape with hand etched gold trimming. His chocolate orbs the color of an afternoon sunset. His face adorning the face of a leader of the pack.

Sander just stared at him.

Curious.

Drawn in.

His feet pick up pace towards him. Completely oblivious to the fact that he himself is drench in a disguise. For tonight he is but nothing but a bull; temperamental and sinister. A green eyed monster ready to crash land on his own personal matador.

He almost reaches him and then the lion looks out to some unknown voice down the hall and runs towards it, getting lost in the sea of creatures in the throws of their festivities inside the grande ballroom.

The bull lets his instinct guide him and blurs into the terrain of blushing birds, bunny rabbits, deers and wolves all dancing in unison with one another under the twinkle of the ballroom’s candlelight incandescents.

For one night only mere mortals have morphed into beast, hounds and the feather habitants of a wild life Archipelago. The bull weaves his way around a pack of wolves, passes a litter of kittens when he suddenly feels a serpent wrap its scaly surface behind his neck and tug him in their direction.

“There you are?” The Marchioness Deruwe spoke in a possessive tone.

Sander flung his head in a 90 degree turn towards her direction.

The Marchioness Deruwe was a beautiful creature. That was not something that was ever up for debate but she was conniving and a master of the game. She maneuvered courts to her will. Destroying young maiden’s reputations on a whim. Her prowess for dismantling those who opposed her was so infamous it travelled with her across the channel to the Burgundian realm. She was a flower of the Yorkist faction. Her father had married her off to a French Marquess at the tender age of 16. Most young English maiden’s would have been intimidated to enter the French courts so unestablished but the Marchioness had spent her entire life bossing her pack of blonde hair, blue eyed hyenas around every Yorkish social event. To the Marchioness getting in the good graces of King Lucas and Queen Daphne was nothing more than sport. Another challenge to show off her skill set. It took no more than a season until she was trotting around the French palace like she owned the place. She worked her angle to its utmost potential, securing her husband the Marquess Deruwe a role as official acting liaison to the French king throughout the Burgundy nation and so here she stood exactly where Sander expected her.

Regal, drenched in beauty, playing her role. Moving puzzle pieces around. Advising young courtiers who were on the hunt for some prey and willing to do anything to climb up the social ladder to land themselves a big fish.

“My lady”

Sander slightly bowed in her direction as she placed her hand out to be kissed by Sander’s lips.

“My lord”

She said in giddy almost pantomime fashion.

It was strange for Sander to have the Marchioness validate his presence. For so long she had only toyed with him. Wound him up and dropped him like he was some rudimentary tool the Marchioness had outgrown and had no use for anymore. He hated to admit it to himself but she had taught him how to love. To love only for gluttony, to never share or truly give yourself to another but to merely take and when all resources had been depleted to move on to the next bigger and better thing. Sander had experienced this first hand as a young adolescent who lost himself in the Marchioness' blonde locks and lean figure and late nights falling asleep on her bosom but as intense as their “love” was, Sander just became another victim of her wicked game. She gorged and binged herself on his love mosaic, his unrelenting joyful spirit that illuminated a room like a moonbeam in the middle of a forest but once the affair was all over he was left a mere shell of himself. She had taken everything from him. Sander felt he had no other options but to resign himself to a monastic order or to become an agent of this dark market where love was a tool for savagery, negotiation, lust and pure greed. Sander had turned himself from a victim to a lothario. Only playing the game of love for sheer sport just to quench his blood lust.

Sander lost track of time and didn’t even realize how long he had been standing in front of the Marchioness spellbound by her presence when his axis shifted and he saw the lion surrounded by his pack. He snapped into animation and headed towards the lion passing a hoard of mice, a stallion and his mare.

The troop of big cats all turn towards the bulls' direction as he comes to a halt mere feet away from their king. The lion walks forward to meet the bull and as they close the distance and stand mere inches from one another about to break out of this wild life sanctuary and into the human realm the ballroom goes dark.

A sudden cacophony of screams and squeals rumbles through the ballroom.

“Who do you want to be tonight?” The Duke of Burgundy asks the wildlife in a demanding tone.

“Do you want to be a predator?”

“Or the prey? …...Tonight ladies and gentleman or should I say inhabitants of the animal kingdom. Tonight there are no rules. You can be who you want to be under the guise of moonlight.”

“If you dare not play our game and you absolutely must light your way through tonight's festivities then take one of the candles that the servants are providing but if you're brave and truly want to get lost in the darkness then the castle is your playground for one night and there is only one rule,what happens in the darkness stays in the darkness”.

The roar of the wildstock animates through the ballroom and orbs of light begin to appear in front of masked beast, birds and prey.

A gothic melody begins to fill the room as the musical entertainment for the evening amplifies through all corners of the palace.

The orbs begin to make a circular formation and the heat of the flames subdues the wild life.

The candle flames waltz back and forth.

And the hot blooded creatures move in the shape of a half crescent moon.

More orbs begin to light the room and the moon phases begin to decorate the floor as they do the night sky.

The green monster suddenly feels a tug of his wrist as gravity and his heart desire walk towards the moon phases and the lion and the bull head towards the dancing troop standing side by side, when the lion does a sudden about face and is standing directly in front of the bull.

“Dance with me?” the lion asked in a meek tone. One anticipating a denial.

“I don’t wish to embarasses you my prince but one is not a dancer”

The bull notices the lion's chocolate gaze scan his person when a sickly sweet tone comes out lightly encouraging the bull.

“Just follow along. I promise I won’t lead you astray. Just trust me.”

The lion lifts both his palms to his shoulder height facing the bull and the bull matches his movement.

The lion settles his palms against the bulls as they stand two ready pilgrims; palm to palm in holy palmers' kiss.

As the gothic chimes began to pick up pace the lion demo’s a gentleman’s curtsy which the bull mirrored. They retouch palms but this time they point their hands towards the sky and as the bull and the lion brought them down so did each pair of courtiers in the ballroom and took their position to begin the waltz.

The lion and the bull stand shoulder to shoulder vertically, each positioning themselves to face opposite sides of the ballroom but completely interlocked via one's right arm into the other’s left.

“You ready?” The music begins to speed up.

“NO” Sander chuckles out embarrassed.

“Did I mention I am really really bad at this…” he admits with a lack of confidence that is foreign to him.

“Well I think it’s fate then because I’m really good at this” Robbe shoots Sander a wink.

The pair of gentlemen begin swaying in a whimsical harmonic intonation. Fluted skirts twirled around them under the incandescent flicker of limelight radiating around the ballroom.

Robbe’s mood becomes rather chipper as an uptempo beat begins to sound around the room and an uncontrollable laugh begins bubbling up to the surface. Sensing he has the upper hand, Robbe is suddenly full of gumption and can’t help but tease the Duke.

“You really are bad at this, aren’t you?”

Sander is moving his limbs around aimlessly with a lack of grace that you could mistake him for a duck failing to take flight.

All feathers, no grace.

“Stop laughing at me” Sander demands in a playful tone.

Shooting him a makaveli smile. Robbe begins to untie his connected arm and gently grab Sander’s hand to guide it towards the heavens emulating a wedding’s arch.

“Tsk, tsk ……. Come on my duke go on” Robbe signals to Sander to go under the arch suggesting that he was about to twirl Sander mid dance.

Sander stalls for a second but as Robbe pulls on his arm he follows his direction.

“You’re enjoying torturing me too much my prince”

Sander knows that to the rest of the courtiers he must look clumsy and foolish but in that moment he couldn’t care less. The prince stirs an unfamiliar feeling within Sander. He feels weightless, airy and unencumbered. He knows this feeling is what Bernard would call fun or what he was adamant Sander was hesitant to experience in life, which was a carefree playdate. One without an agenda, an individual he could let go with and maybe one day even feel compelled to show his true nature too. The real Sander, the one he hid from the world.

Now that Sander had let Robbe have a little fun with him. It was time he matched the prince at his game.

Sander tugs on Robbe’s arm and pulls him towards him. They are standing so close together that Sander can feel the hot breath of royalty when Robbe doth protest to Sander hand gripping his slim waist.

Sander leans in towards the side of Robbe’s face and whispers lightly.

“Ready?”

“What?” Robbe replies with an inquisitive squint adorning his eyes.

“We're not going to stay here all evening are we? The night is young...”

“Sander I can’t lea---”

“On the count of 3” Sander reenforces.

“But my fiance is waiting…..” Robbe whispers, trailing off in a barely audible volume towards the end.

“3”

Before Robbe can fight the instinct to relent. Sander is rushing him out of the ballroom, leaving the prideland behind. Emergency evacuating from the serengeti and rushing down a dark corridor camouflaged by the night sky.

Before they both know it they have reached the rotunda the place where Robbe’s first laid eyes on Sander under a lightning painted sky that only served to illuminate Sander’s chiseled face; and though Robbe was lost for words in this moment he would look back at their first meeting and recall that even amongst the torrential downpour and screams of mother nature there was no denying that Robbe always knew that Sander would be the one.

____________________

“Have you lost yourself in lunacy?”

Robbe turned to Sander, sporting a sour expression.

“I didn’t think you would lack imagination my prince”

“I don’t” Robbe spoke sternly, surprised at Sander’s use of his formal title.

“Oh no? Seems like you're questioning my intentions.”

“Is the prince of swords fearful he will be led astray?”

Both men stood silent staring at one another. Calculating their next decision as if the weight of a nation depended on it.

For Sander, Robbe had the properties of a seductive paramour. He knew the prince was promised to another and that whatever he sought from him would be nothing more than a diliance by night. A transaction that could only take place in the cloak of darkness but he didn’t care. When he was in his presence he felt displaced, rocking on the edge of an axis, chemically imbalanced, filled to the brim with potency.

For Robbe, Sander was the last drink of the night he should have walked away from. The moment you recall the next morning that tipped you over the edge. He was a deadly sin manifested in a man. Sander was Robbe’s last everclear.

Both men hear the squabbles of hyenas approaching their territory and on a lion’s instinct Robbe grabs Sander’s hand and leads him down the rotunda stairs.

“Come on Sander, someone will see us”

They escape through the courtyard and away from the herd.

Hand in hand.

Together.

In alliance.

The palace is pitch black, almost frightening but Robbe navigates the route with such gravitas, purpose, unwavered and committed towards his sin. The men untether themselves from their role play. They throw their masks aside and run into the night together in their purest forms.

Robbe heads towards refuge, towards the high garden walls where they can hide themselves deep in the labyrinthine green. A garden brew of emerald tinted greenery, shamrock leaves and rainbow colored rose bushes.

“Where are we going?” Sander finally protests and as Robbe lets go of Sander’s hand he takes stock of his surroundings.

“Woah”

Sander is in awe of this grassy fortress. The walls are high so much so that they feel like they are collapsing in on themselves and submerging the twosome in a foggy condensation.

Sander shivers.

“Fock, it's cold”

“Come now” Robbe nods his head signaling Sander to follow him deeper into this thorny environment.

“Where are we going?” Sander asks tentatively. A tad suspicious of Robbe but also certain that his fellow journeymen knows the way.

“It’s a surprise”

“Is this the point of the story where I suddenly go missing?”

“What?” Robbe looks at Sander with a puzzled look.

“Am joking….. But don’t think I don’t know about the legends surrounding the lakes and forest here”

Robbe's face loses all its pink hue at the mention of those stories. Sander quickly recognizes his obvious fumble but it was merely an innocuous mention it was not meant to offend or besmirch his name.

“Umm am sorry, nevermind” Sander quickly throws out and starts moving deeper into the seafoam landscape.

“Ok prince, lead the way”

Robbe brushes off the uncomfortable mention and re-engages.

“Ok Duke, on the count of 3” and before Sander even has time to register the count Robbe takes off running deeper into refuge.

___________

Sander is panting by the time he catches up to Robbe.

They moved so fast between the juniper corridors and foggy condensation he isn’t even sure he knows how to get back out of the labyrinth but for now he pushes that thought out of his mind as he stands at the center of this garden universe surrounded by a rainbow colored flower bed.

He inhales and the scent of chrysanthemum, lillie and roses fill his nasal cavity. He licks his top lip and he swears he can taste the pollen in the air.

“It’s my favourite place in the palace”

“It's beautiful” Sander reassures Robbe.

“I planted these flower beds with my mother. It was the only thing that helped when he d-------”

Robbe cuts off the sentence abruptly.

“It took time but eventually they blossomed” He admits softly.

“These white florets here, they are the ones I picked out for your quarters”, Sander’s face instantly lights up with an innocent smirk when he realizes that Robbe picked out the flowers he's been drawing. Because of course he did, they’re beautiful.

Sander and Robbe stroll past bushes of red roses and Sander stops to clip one off the vine as he gently walks back to Robbe and begins to delicately push his hair behind his right ear and places the red rose atop of it.

Robbe just stares at Sander with big eyes and a dreamy gaze anticipating the next move.

“You know what I’m in the mood for?”

Robbe remains silent shaking his head back and forth.

Sander moves closer to Robbe, surrounding him.

Robbe drops his gaze focusing on the rosewood colored lilies beneath him.

He knows the moment is coming. Robbe can feel the heat of Sander breathe, glazing the side of his face moving towards his mouth when deep in the darkness he hears twigs break.

Robbe looks towards the ominous noise and takes one big step away from Sander and a few steps towards the sound.

Sander notices that Robbe suddenly seems flustered, weary and distracted.

“Ummm we should play a game”

“What? Right now? Why?” Sander retorts in a questionable elevated tone.

“Trust me” Robbe pleads with his signature pyrope orbs that guarantee to make Sander weak at the knees.

“Okay” Sanders states in defeat.

“Close your eyes”

Sander squeezes his eyes shut in anticipation almost childlike.

“When I count to three, open your eyes and come find me”

Sanders stands amongst the roses when he hears Robbe yell out “one” a few feet away from him.

A few seconds later he hears Robbe yell out “two” but his voice is more distant.

Lastly he hears him yell out “three” and when he opens his eyes he stands alone amongst the flower bed.

The red rose Sander placed behind Robbe’s ear lays on the ground in front of him. Sander picks it up and looks around.

Suddenly he is frightened.

The garden walls are high and the night is eerily silent.

“Robbe” Sander yells out into the darkness.

But nothing. Sander doesn’t hear any noise or callback.

Sander pops his head into every corridor but everything is so dark and identical looking that he doesn't dare leave the refuge of the rose garden.

He yells out for Robbe again but still nothing.

He waits another twenty minutes but the night is only growing colder and so he makes the call to head back to the palace and ask his hand, Younes to come back with him to search for Robbe in case he got lost or was hurt.

It took Sander many tries of winding corners and dead ends to find his way out of the garden maze. What easily took him and Robbe ten minutes to navigate; took Sander at least an hour to navigate his way out of.

As he reaches the entryway to the palace garden he sees a figure absconding towards the palace in haste, his locomotives appear unruly and he does not resemble Robbe at all from behind but those hickory manes are recognizable from over yonder.

“ROBBE” Sander yells out ferociously. Annoyed but relieved that Robbe was ok.

“Robbe stop” Sander speeds up towards the figure.

He sees the figure turn towards him and it is Robbe but Robbe takes a brief look at Sander with disinterest and continues on his way.

Sander sprints towards him for some sort of explanation about why he just abandoned him like that.

Sander finally catches up to him and as he tugs on his shoulder. He hears Robbe groan in obvious annoyance.

“What do you want?”

“Robbe what the hell you just left without saying anything…… I was worried”

Robbe's face is blank and unnerved.

“OOookay” Robbe rolls his eyes.

Sander shrugs his shoulders signaling for some deeper meaning or some type of closure.

“Ooookay” Sander repeats back to Robbe mimicking his juvenile ambivalence.

They stand in the darkness, frozen, sizing each other up.

“Is that all you needed to say to me my lord?”

Sander is so confused and angry. He feels like a fool and better yet he doesn't really have room to speak freely at least not in view of the palace guards.

In one last attempt Sander cuts in front of Robbe and speaks in a barely audible whisper.

“Robbe I just thought…...well I thought we both understood that we enjoyed one another’s company. I thought we had an understanding tonight.”

Sander boars his gaze straight into Robbe’s chocolate orbs as he lets the last sentence drip out of his mouth.

Robbe’s steps back and lets out a menacing laugh.

“Oh my lord, for an English man you truly are gullible”

“Tonight was just for show. You and I are just foes through arrangement. Nothing less, nothing more. Let us not pretend that you're anything but a visitor here with his own personal agenda. I was simply entertaining you at my fathers bidding. I thought you of all people would understand.”

Sander stood stoic. Not giving Robbe the satisfaction of showing him an inch of emotion.

Every word spewing out of Robbe’s mouth was meant to sting. Worse of all, Sander could tell Robbe was enjoying ridiculing him.

Once Robbe was done humiliating him and blundering the metaphorical knife deep into his chest cavity he wrapped up their exchange with a simple bid farewell.

As Robbe walked into the palace he turned around one last time to remind Sander.

“Get to bed my lord. Tomorrow we go hunting and god knows…. am in need of a good kill”

And with that Robbe disappears into the palace walls.

Sander can feel tears welling up. He is not upset because some boy played him. He just hates looking foolish and being the butt of someone’s joke.”

Sander gets a hold of his senses and storms through the palace towards his quarters.

As he slams his door shut the moonlight illuminates his sitting room and he sees the bouquet of white florets in the center of the room.

A sudden rage takes a hold of him and he grabs the vase and slams it on the ground. The remnants of the broken ceramic lay shattered at Sander’s feet and the white florets destroyed.

Before Sander can react he sees a silhouette in the corner of the room.

“Well well well someone had a bad night”

It’s the Marchioness Deruwe. Sander would recognize that voice anywhere.

“Britt am not in the mood”

“Oh now we are addressing one another with informalities” Britt mockingly points out.

“Leave, right now”

“Now now Sander I come bearing gifts. The Earl of Warwick has sent a message. He has approved and is willing to arrange a marriage to his daughter Isabel”

“What?!?!?!” This was unexpected Sander knew the Earl despised him.

“How is that possible? Edward would never allow me to side with Warwick. He is already suspicious of his dealings with the Lancastrians.”

“He doesn’t have to know. We would arrange your passage back to England in secret and your union would be solidified without Edward knowing.”

“That’s mad. Edward has sent me here with one objective in mind. We need the Burgundian iron to defeat Henry.”

“You and I both know the Burgundians will never give up the iron without getting something more than a simple marriage to Margaret. This is all for laughs. The Burgundians just want to know if they are backing the right horse.”

Sander knows Britt is right. Everyone involved knows that the Burgundians will never give up the iron without a proper incentive.

“Why are you helping me, Britt? You’re a yorkist flower, what do you gain from pushing me onto the side of the Lancastrians?”

“We all have a part to play Sander. I need to hedge my bets and have as many options as possible. My husband is a complete idiot but our money is not everlasting and we all have something to gain from this war.”

Sander shook his head in agreement. It was rare to see Britt be so sincere but her tone was definitive. She had her own secrets and people to protect.

“When you have a response for the Earl, send a note my way. I will make sure it crosses the channel”.

Britt saunters towards the door when Sander can’t help but show his hand.

“The Prince of Swords. What's his game?”

Britt pauses and looks back at Sander puzzled but curious.

“The Prince, don’t underestimate him; he is a great strategist and has the ability to command an army if need be.”

“Does he want to be king like his father?”

“No he does not but his people want him to. They respect him. They speak of his kindness and fairness above all. He also quells the fears of a French invasion; he has been betrothed to the Princess of France since he was a child. The people call their union the great love story. Betrothed since birth and genuinely a love marriage. Nice for some I guess....”

Sander gives Britt an ambivalent chuckle. A love marriage? What a foreign concept for both of them.

“Is that all?” Sander tacks on to the end of the conversation. Egging on Britt’s conniving ways,

“Does he have any secrets?” Sander finally just asks.

“No, he is clean. If you were to ask me to clean. Everyone is hiding something but it seems like the Prince of Swords is perfect.”

“There is no such thing. Everyone has a secret”

“Exactly” Britt agrees.

“Find out whatever the Prince is hiding and you’ll have the iron and maybe even the chance to be king. All you have to do is to get him to trust you and as soon as he does take the iron away from him.”

Sander nods in agreement.

“Play the Prince at his own game” Sander states with venom in his voice and continues.

“In the end.....”

“I only have one goal”

“To make the prince regret he ever met me.”

#wtfock #the three sided king #almost done with this chapter #lmk ur thots

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smediumsmeatbae · 4 years

Text

Straight Tequila Night

PAIRINGS: Chris Evans X Reader SUMMARY: You wake up to Chris after a night of tequila WORDS: >1500 WARNINGS: Smut! No one under 18 please. Alcohol consumption, a lot of horniness, a second of angst (like if you squint?) and fluff thrown in there because it’s me. A/N: First things- title is not my own. It is from a song by John Anderson. This is another entry for the #shamelesshoesforchris challenge by @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18. I am using the prompts Waking up next to each other for the first time with the dialogue “Oh god, did I say that out loud?” Please don’t post this anywhere else without my permission Tags after the reblog. Likes are amazing. Comments and reblogs are better.

--------****--------

"CHRISTOPHER PUT ME DOWN!" You screeched when Chris threw you over his shoulder and walked towards the bedroom.

Barking a laugh, he strolled with confidence, not seeming to be slowing down or wanting to put you down. Your legs kicked in protest but Chris was stronger. His broad hands easily steadied your body with one firmly on your legs while the other grabbed onto your ass.

Earlier that night, you two had decided to go out for drinks with a few friends. You had yet to meet most of them and were dying to see that other side of Chris as well. What started out to be just friends casually sipping drinks, turned into a night of tequila shots and making out with Chris in the back of an Uber. By the time that you were back at Chris's, he practically had you sprawled out on the back seat, him on top, with his hands climbing up your shirt. Tasting the tequila on his tongue, he was driving you wild as you felt his hard-on pressed against your leg. The excitement between your own legs felt hot and needy.

You hadn't planned on sleeping over at his place, honestly. The plan was to have a couple of drinks, then an Uber would take you to your house and Chris to his. You two had only been on a handful of dates, nothing was even official. You hadn’t even slept together yet. But damn. When he kept squeezing your thigh under the table, lightly kissing the soft spot behind your ear. Breath hot on your neck whispering things only you two could hear. "You're so sexy." "I wanna kiss you so much." "Come over to my house." How could you resist? Two Ubers became one. And then... Then! At his house. The way that man looked at you hungrily, eyes lust blown and lips kiss swollen, pressing you up against a wall… You really wanted him.

The next morning, you woke up with a hangover and slightly confused as to where you were. The sheets didn’t feel like yours, these were nicer. It also didn't smell like your place. It smelled like warm cedar and lemon. You noticed there was a dip in the bed that wouldn't move as you put your foot up next to it. You opened your eyes, hissing at the pain and saw Dodger at your feet, curled up in a ball and sleeping away. 'Well, at least that explains me not being able to move my foot', you thought as you looked over to your left to try to get some bearings. You noticed a sleeping lump next to you, short brown hair peeking out from under the covers. Oh right, now you remember. Your brain, once foggy, contained vivid pictures of last night. Licks on exposed skin, shallow breaths and moans, a delicious stretch that you hoped to feel again soon. Out of the corner of your eye, was a shallow bite mark on your shoulder. You bit your lower lip as a smile slipped across your face, butterflies making a path across your belly.

You felt warm fingers trail across your upper thigh, reaching, searching. Looking back over, you spied Chris peeping out cutely from under the covers with a boyish grin. God, even first thing in the morning, that man made your body burn.

"G'morning handsome." Voice raspy from sleepiness as you lay yourself back down in bed and slide towards him. Chris turned towards you, pulling your body into his, free hand resting lazily on your ass. His lips ghosted over yours, then pulled back, a content look on his face. "Hey." His voice answers back, covered in sleep; his nose brushed against your own. "This is new. Glad you stayed over last night, nice to wake up to you." "Yeah?" Your lips captured his in a slow, sensual kiss. "Yep." He popped the p as his hand trailed up and down your back, making you shiver in contentment. "I definitely wanna make it a regular occurance." "You mean…" you pulled away from him a bit so you could look him in the eye. "Like, be your girlfriend?" "Oh god, did I say that out loud?"

There was silence between the two of you, one waiting on the other to make the next move. As if Dodger could sense the tension, he got up and headed towards the living room. After a minute, Chris licked his lips and looked at you, a slight nervousness in his eyes. A knot was forming at the pit of your stomach. You hadn't said anything before then, but you were falling for Chris, hard. You had been meaning to have “the talk” with him soon about your relationship but figured it may be too early for him. Would he revoke his offer and rip it away from you, like so many waves lost from the ocean? After all, he didn't mean to make that offer. Your breath caught in your throat.

"Would… Would that be something you're into?" Blue eyes peered under long eyelashes, a bashful gaze pressed at you. "I know we just started hangin' out and you don't have to say yes if-" "Yes." You nodded, knot releasing within you. "Yes, Chris."

A smile appeared on his lips, small at first but then growing bigger. His eyes sparked, that cerulean blue shining down towards you. Lips captured in kisses, thankful and urgent, shared between you two as your legs entwined into his.

Moving his body to pull you under him, his free arm slid up your side and cupped one of your breasts, lightly circling your nipple with the pad of his thumb. You mewled in his mouth from the touch and arched your back slightly.

"So responsive for me." Chris whispered in your mouth, working down to nibble at your jawline and sucking delicately on your neck.

You felt shivers everywhere from his touch as he worked your neck and your breasts in tandem with his mouth. You needed more. You ground your bottom half onto him, feeling him already halfway aroused. He gasped, tearing his mouth away from your neck, just enjoying the friction of what you were doing.

A wicked grin was on his face as he halted your hips movements.

"Gonna make you feel so good." He murmured.

He trailed kisses down your breasts and your belly, gave gentle nips to your thighs as he spread them open to him, relishing in the sight of your wetness before him.

"This all for me?" He asked.

You could do nothing but nod your head as you bit down on your bottom lip to maintain some semblance of control. He grinned in response as he nestled his body in between your thighs. Placing your legs over his broad shoulders, he placed his hands on the tops of your hips, pinning you down. He leaned his head down, and kissed your outer lips slowly, making your skin burn, trying to push yourself towards him for more. You looked at him, needing him, a playful grin was on his face. However, before you could tell him to quit teasing, Chris licked a long stripe up your pussy making you arch off the bed and emit a low moan. He then was eating you like a man starved, licking and sucking, giving you everything. You were doing your best to hold on, grabbing the sheets from under you, legs shaking, mouth open in pleasure.

“Oh god, Chris, please don’t stop!” You moaned, reaching your hands down to massage his head, encouraging him to keep going.

He wasn’t gonna stop though, not until you were a writhing, moaning mess under him. He put one finger into you, pumping, then he added another, speeding up his efforts. Chris found the spongy area that gave you pleasure and he used a “come hither” motion with his fingers to rub that sensitive spot. He alternated between sucking on your clit and using his tongue to swirl around it as well. The pace was maddening and you were quickly coming up to climax, feeling the rubber band in your belly getting pulled tighter and tighter. He took his mouth off of yours and looked into your eyes.

“So wet baby. You gonna come for me?” His voice was husky and you could see the juices of your arousal on his mouth and beard. “’M so close, please.” You moaned out. “Please.”

You could see the precipice to your climax, all you needed was his mouth on you. As if sensing your need, Chris dipped his head back down and began sucking on your clit making you jump off the edge. The rubber band finally snapped and you yelled out, seeing flashes of white in your vision as you had an incredible orgasm. He led you through, pumping his fingers in and out slowly, until you had ridden your climax to the end.

“Oh my god... “ You said horsley, out of breath afterwards.

Chris came up beside you, kissing you deeply, your tongues intertwining. You could taste your own arousal on his mouth as he grabbed onto your hips with his hands, grinding his erection into you.

“I’m not finished with you yet, love.”

#shamelesshoesforchris #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fandom #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans x fem!reader #chris evans x female!reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans rfp #real person fiction

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awsugar · 2 years

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Hey, i just got pit tickets and i was wondering how long you should camp outside the arena before the show to get up against the stage? , and any like pit advice (you’ve probably answered this before sorry) Ty!!❤️

sooooo tbh i don't know! like there are genuinely a lot of factors that go into it. like the weather on that particular week, the queueing culture in that particular city, whether or not there's vip or early entry for that show. and even if we knew all these factors, and knew what the situation was like for other bands at these same venues at the same times of year, mcr have not toured in 10 years. we really can't know what its going to be like until the tour starts. i will say for the shrine i got there at like 2pm the day before the show and i was 51 in line. i was dead center stage, second row, behind the people on barricade. one of my friends who was like number 45 was able to get on barricade way over on frank's side but idk if she squeezed her way in (would be typical of her lol) or if that spot was open when we ran in. also like even though we have this one show to go by, i don't think its a good representation of what the camping situation will be like for other shows. bc the venues are so much different in size, first of all. the shrine was like 6k capacity but that was all GA. the only reason to camp for the shows this year is if you have GA tickets, and the GA section (pit usually but like for mk example i think theres a huge standing section) is WAY less than 6k people. and also the shrine was just like. a different beast. idk how to explain it but i think you know what i mean like that was an extremely Important mcr show so a lot of people obviously wanted to be as close as possible and it was like a greater percentage of diehard fans than you might find at any other random show. but also like when i saw mcr for the first time in 2011 ppl camped for 4 days on the street in nyc. and it snowed. but like i said, that was so fucking long ago its so hard to say if it will be like that or not.

i think the best bet, as long as you're not going to one of the first shows, is to stay up to date on social media and see what its like for the first shows, cause that will clue us in as to what to expect. people will definitely be camping overnight for every show but just how many ppl will be that dedicated to a spot on barricade is hard to know at this point.

as far as pit advice i think you just gotta hold your own and hold down your center of gravity lol. mcr pits push a lot like not necesarily the person behind you specifically pushing you forward or one way or another but the entire crowd as a whole will push forward and there will be a lot of back and forth as everyone tries to get close while also holding their spot and also like trying to stay on their feet. so yea my advice is be aware at all times and keep yourself stead (a lot easier to do if you ARE on barricade) and also dress sensibly, NO HEELS, and dont wear a backpack it is so annoying to the people behind you. i know ive been going on about my fanny pack but as someone who goes to a lot of shows i think its genuinely the best option and all my frank friends also use one. also if you have curly hair try to contain it as best you can, as a courtesy for the person behind you. having a mouthful of someones hair is not fun ive been there. if you have long hair i suggest it in a bun or its going to get pulled in ways you dont like (not really on purpose, just unavoidable). also ignore anyone whos being a jerk. make sure you go to like a mcdonalds or something to pee like an hour before doors and make sure you're hydrated throughout the day but stop drinking early enough that you wont have to pee in the middle of the set and have to find a way out. also if you NEED to get out, let the people around you know, preferably in between songs. depending on where you are you might have to walk out the back but if you're close, like you want to be, you'll have to have a security guard pull you over or theres no way you're getting out. uhhhh yea. theres probably more stuff but thats whats coming to mind rn lol

#anonymous #asks

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charlietheepicwriter7 · 3 years

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All’s Fair in Love and Larceny

Summary: All Kaito wanted was to get Hakuba off his back about the Phantom Thievery... and mess with his favorite detectives’ love lives. AO3 Link

@not-a-hope-in-hell ‘tis I, your secret santa. It’s not exactly what you wanted, but I think it’s pretty good. Happy Holidays~!

Also, @dcmksecretsanta

Shinichi blinked, staring at the white form perched outside his bedroom window. He blinked again. No, KID was still there. Sighing, he unlatched the lock and pulled the glass up. “What do you want?” he asked the thief.

“My darling princess—”

“Not a princess—”

“My darling prince—” KID snatched one of Shinichi’s limp hands and kissed the air above it—“Would you please giving me the honor of escorting you this lovely evening?”

“…KID, it’s two am.”

“Very astute of you, detective! Unfortunately, I am very well aware of the hour.” There were dark bags under KID’s eyes, Shinichi noticed, previously mistaking them to be part of the shadow from his hat. “Alas, I have neither the time nor patience to visit you at a more respectable hour.” His voice dropped. “Please, Tantei-kun. I’m desperate.”

Alarm rose in Shinichi. KID wasn’t one to ask for help; even now, years after his return to the spotlight, there was only one suspected assistant to the criminal magician. Hakuba, Shinichi’s… friend and fellow Kaitou KID chaser, had even confided in him about a suspected dark organization trying to kill KID. A pit opened up in Shinichi’s stomach. If it was a branch of the Black Organization that he had failed to capture…

Shinichi opened the window more and stepped away. “Well? Get in.”

KID rushed inside, uncharacteristically tripping on his cape as he did. It seemed as thought whatever was bothering him was truly upsetting to the thief. He quickly straightened, brushing off his suit as if it had never happened. “Thank you kindly, Tantei-kun.”

Shinichi shut the window behind him and closed the blinds. “What’s wrong? Are you in danger?”

“The only thing in danger, Tantei-kun, is my dignity.” KID sighed. “A mutual acquaintance of ours, one Hakuba Saguru, has decided to make himself a menace. So, I’m calling in that favor you owe me.”

Shinichi’s heart skipped a beat. Hakuba… it was rare that Shinichi could work a case with the strict foreign detective, but he enjoyed their time together. Hakuba was brilliant, with an excellent taste in literature, and apparently, a big enough threat to KID that the thief would use the one favor he gained helping Shinichi with the Black Organization. He swallowed. He couldn’t exactly say no, not after KID had helped him so much. “And what, exactly do you want me to do?”

KID grinned, but to Shinichi, it was nearly a leer. “I need you to come with me. Once we arrive at our destination, I’ll tell you.” He clearly could see Shinichi’s discomfort, so he added. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing illegal. But your pride… might not survive.”

Shinichi gulped.

***

Saguru glared. Kuroba, two rows to his left and a seat ahead, didn’t notice. Or he pretended not to notice in order to get Saguru off guard. Saguru in the perfect position to watch his prey, yet frustration rose in him. Despite over a year of surveillance, he was no closer to definitively proving that Kuroba Kaito was the Kaitou KID, a fact that irked him most severely. It had even gotten to the point where Saguru had managed to arrange for a police officer to dodge Kuroba’s every move to no avail. Though if Saguru’s suspicions were correct, the likely thief certainly had other methods of leaving his house, but he didn’t have a warrant to search the residency yet.

It didn’t help his mood that morning that Kudo Shinichi was once again reported missing.

Saguru thumbed through the missing person’s report on his phone in between classes. Kudo was reported missing by his neighbor’s ward, Haibara Ai, a child he distantly remembered being a friend of young Edogawa Conan before he moved to America. There was no sign of forced entry, usually indicating that Kudo had left his residence himself, but none of his clothes were missing, his phone and keys on his bedside table.

A conundrum. A very worrisome one at that. Saguru still remembered what happened last time Kudo mysteriously disappeared.

He hoped it wasn’t his fault. Saguru enjoyed Kudo’s company, to a degree that would likely be thought as inappropriate if voiced aloud, and he didn’t want his fellow detective hurt. Especially if it was his fault. Kudo had already been forced to track down one villainous organization, and Saguru had been the one to inform him of the people trying to kill Kaitou KID. Kudo could very well be trying to apprehend them at that very moment, and there was no telling how injured he might become.

His phone vibrated once. An unknown number had sent him a message. A scam? No, it was a picture, though his particular texting app required he download each image before they appeared. Impatiently, he clicked it. Did another fangirl get ahold of his number…!

Saguru nearly broke his phone. There, on the screen, was a photo of Kudo, still in his night clothes, tied to a chair and gagged. A white arm was wrapped around his neck, connected to a white thief, holding his head up for the camera. There was early signs of bruising on Kudo’s cheekbone, and a dazed look in his eye that screamed concussion.

His eyes flicked to Kuroba. He didn’t have his phone out; timed messages from a burner then? Before he could confront his classmate, another message came, just text this time.

Did you wake up to something missing, Tantei-san?

Nearly shaking with anger, Saguru typed his response.

This is a new low, even for you Kuroba.

The reply was instant.

Kuroba? Do you still think I’m your classmate? Besides, I wouldn’t call this a “new low”. More like… a different branch of my current low.

Saguru paled, barely paying attention to the teacher entering the room. That was no stock reply, it couldn’t have been a timed message. And Kuroba’s hands were visible.

He couldn’t be wrong, could he?

To make sure, he sent another message.

You’re not going to get away with this. Return Kudo now.

Or what? You’ll take “drastic” measures? I’m terrified, Tantei-san.

Another photo. This time, Kudo was clearly in KID’s arms, restrained with an arm across his chest. One of KID’s hands was secure around Kudo’s throat, while the other was dipping into his shirt.

His phone cracked under the sudden pressure of his grip. His eyes flickered to Kuroba who still was, maddeningly, not doing anything.

Why are you doing this?

Why? Tantei-san, you didn’t think that you were the only one interested in our favorite detective, were you?

Is this merely an attempt to incite me? You figured out my feelings and decided to mock me for them?

The confession made Saguru feel nauseous. Because he did like Kudo, romantically although he would never speak aloud about it. There was no evidence that the other detective thought of him as more than a friend and Saguru was… well, he wasn’t happy about it, but he could be content.

But how did Kuroba—KID—realize the extent of his feelings?

Mock? Tell me, Tantei-san, is there anything to mock?

I don’t know how you discovered the extent of my feelings for Kudo-kun, but I promise you, you will regret this, Kaitou KID. Kudo means more to me than you’ll ever know, and if there’s one bruise on his body, you’ve stolen your last jewel.

There was a pause in the writing, and Saguru took the moment to try to calm down, when—

Then I advise you announce your feelings soon, Tantei-san. Otherwise, I might decide to keep him.

The third photo, Kudo being forced to sit on KID’s lap, his sleep-shirt unbuttoned, lecherous grin on KID’s face, one of the thief’s hands reaching for—

He slammed his phone down on the table, the screen cracking.

“KUROBA!!”

“Hakuba-san, sit down!”

***

Kaito hummed merrily as he unlocked the entrance to his KID-cave, the threat to his secret identity now safely defeated. Sure, he nearly got choked out by Hakuba, but the teacher had put a stop to that, giving the detective detention too. And with that detention, Kaito was sure the Brit’s father would no longer allow Hakuba access to his manpower, since it was only because he thought Hakuba “mature” that he had the officers to stalk him everywhere.

Finally, he could relax—

“Are you going to unchain me?”

“Tantei-kun!” Kaito smiled brightly at the detective he had chained in his basement. Kudo was easily able to get up from his armchair and move around—the chain connecting his leg to the chair long enough so he could get to the bathroom and minifridge—but unable to escape. Kaito was a considerate kidnapper after all, especially since he had to sneak Kudo in through the sewer entrance to avoid the police outside.

At Kudo’s side was the cell phone used to aggravate Hakuba. Kaito had gotten a glance at Kudo’s work after pickpocketing Hakuba and it was good. At least, it sounded close enough to KID and worked Hakuba up into pseudo-confessing, so score.

Kaito bowed. “Thank you very much for your assistance in today’s trick. You made a beautiful assistant!”

“So long as you delete those photos, I don’t care what kind of assistant I was.” He tossed the phone at Kaito. He caught it with one hand. “When you asked for my help, I thought it would be for something more serious.”

“This was serious!” Meddling in the love lives of his favorite detectives was extremely serious! With how emotionally repressed the two were, they’d never end up confessing. Speaking of which, Kaito leered at Kudo. “So, did you realize why you were so effective in enraging Tantei-san?”

Kudo looked away, face stoic but there was a light flush on his cheeks. “…I did.”

Kaito smiled, satisfied. “Then my task is complete. Just make sure to name one of the adopted babies after me~!”

The comment was totally worth the soccer ball to the face.

#dcmksecretsanta #@not-a-hope-in-hell #sagushin #dcmk #shinichi kudo #Saguru Hakuba #kaito kuroba #kaitou kid #hakushin #pseudo kaishin

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umbraja · 4 years

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Body Hair Positivity: Good or Gross?

It’s been a trend lately to embrace a more diverse image of beauty. Freckles and muffin tops, dark skin and curly hair, scars, tattoos, unusual proportions, crooked teeth, pretty much anything is supposed to be accepted under the banner of Body Positivity.

But what about body hair?

And I’m not just talking about armpits or legs. I also mean unusual body hair. The kind people don’t talk about. The kind women aren’t “supposed” to have: chest hair, happy trails, beards, back hair. The kind that doctors call hirsutism and is often associated with hormonal imbalances from things like Polycystic Ovary Syndrome, Cushing Syndrome, medication side effects, menopause, or even just genetics. It affects somewhere between 5%-10% of women depending on the region surveyed but may be higher as it can often go undiagnosed.

It’s not like we’re taught how healthy body hair should look.

Humans have been removing body hair since before recorded history. Archaeologists have found evidence of early humans using clam shells and shark teeth to remove body hair. Ancient Egyptians are well known for their full body waxes. Ancient Greeks considered it “uncivilized” for a woman to have pubic hair. Roman boys celebrated their entry into manhood with a mandatory first shave. And medieval European Ladies plucked daily to remove all hair from their brows, temples, and neck - some even plucked their eyelashes. The “New World” was no stranger to body hair removal either. Thomas Jefferson, and many others, wrote of some Native Americans’ depilatory obsession.

“With [Native Americans] it is disgraceful to be hairy on the body. They say it likens them to hogs. They therefore pluck the hair as fast as it appears.” - Thomas Jefferson, Notes on the State of Virginia

In the non-native US, body hair removal wasn’t really a big thing until the 20th century when we did a complete 180 on the subject. Before that Puritan values made sure that most body hair was covered by clothing so few bothered to remove it since no one was gonna see what was under all that cloth. Now recent studies say that 93 to 99 percent of American women regularly remove their body hair, making it one of our most widely practiced beauty norms. Girls as young as 10 are pressured into shaving, waxing, plucking, threading, anything to remove errant hairs as soon as they start to sprout. Refusal to do so leaves us open to bullying, both on the playground and in the office. Visible body hair can cost a woman jobs, promotions, and relationships so most of us remove it, no matter the cost. Which one study worked out to be more than $10,000 over the course of her life for the average American woman who shaves. If she waxes instead the bill goes over $23,000.

So what happened?

“Where eighteenth-century naturalists and explorers considered hair-free skin to be the strange obsession of indigenous peoples, Cold War-era commentators blithely described visible body hair on women as evidence of a filthy, ‘foreign’ lack of hygiene.” - Rebecca Herzig, Plucked, a History of Hair Removal

The driving forces behind hair removal in America are the same three that cause most of the nation’s problems: greed, sexism, and racism. Let’s go in chronological order.

As the “Age of Enlightenment” began to secularize European politics, Imperialists needed a new excuse to justify their expansion into non-European territory. Naturalists like the still famous Charles Darwin handed them pseudoscience. It’s debatable whether or not these naturalists intended their work to be used as the foundation for white supremacist ideology that still plagues us today but there’s no question about how racists interpreted it. They saw evolution as a line that went from ape through colored people and ends at Aryan. Real science tells us that’s not at all correct and if anyone is closer to cave man it’s white people who often have Neanderthal in their DNA. But they didn’t have genetic sequencers back then so they used physical traits to “prove” it instead. Part of this was a gross mischaracterization that body hair could be used to determine a person’s place within the line of human evolution. They claimed people with coarse, dark hair were closer to apes and those with thin, light hair were more evolved. Guess who picked up on that concept in the 20th century.

Darwin further complicated matters in his attempt to explain why some white people were hairier than some indigenous populations by associating hairiness with evolutionary backsliding and mental illness.

“[Hairiness in Europeans] is due to partial reversion; for characters which have been at some former period long inherited are always apt to return. We have seen that idiots are often very hairy, and they are apt to revert in other characters to a lower animal type.” - Charles Darwin, The Descent of Man

Other scientists and even medical experts of the time ran with this idea and before long the educated elite considered hairiness (along with other non-Aryan traits) to be a symptom of disease, insanity, and criminal violence. The uneducated masses were more familiar with freak show displays of unusually hairy people as “missing links” to our primate ancestors. Both cases considered having body hair to be a very bad thing. They’re also very bad science and not at all true.

Despite these very strong, racist feelings about body hair, it still wasn’t common for American women to remove it beyond the upper lip, neck, jaw, or between the eyebrows. Most women don’t have much hair there and those that did rarely had time or money to invest in removing it. Also they wouldn’t be caught dead admitting they had to so historical records might not be accurate about how many women actually plucked. For the first half of American history peach fuzz and other light hair was seen as normal and clothes covered the rest. But the 20th century not only saw women wearing less cloth and showing more skin it also saw them calling for gender equality. Critics of women’s liberation often accused suffragettes of sexual inversion - aka acting too much like men, which they saw as an abhorrent threat. To really drive this point home they often depicted women’s rights activists as being hairy, thus politicizing our pits. Pair this with the “hygiene” movement’s embrace of already mentioned racist views on body hair and you have a recipe for weaponized shame.

“Self-consciousness brings timidity, restrained action and awkwardness. The use of Del-a-tone relieves the mind from anxious watchfulness of movement.” - 1919 Del-a-tone depilatory advertisement

Enter Capitalism. Producers of hair removal products wanted to up sales so they did the exact same thing that was done with every other beauty product on the market - shame women into buying their stuff. It’s debatable if this was motivated purely by greed, in an attempt to reach an untapped market, or if the resulting gender oppression was intentional but men were spared of this aggressive shaming (until recently at least). Women, on the other hand, were flooded with advertisements for body hair removal products. From the first “razor for women” in 1915 to 21st century laser hair removal ads, women are constantly being reminded of our body hair. It doesn’t take a genius seeing ads that call smooth skin “attractive” or “sanitary” to extrapolate the opposite - that body hair is ugly, and dirty. A series of ads for Del-a-tone depilatory products even called it “necessary” for sleeveless fashion and suggests that not using their product will lead to social anxiety. Pair that with only ever using shaved models in all of fashion advertising and you send a pretty clear message: female body hair is something to be ashamed of. Advertising works. Now most American women actually feel gross if they’ve missed a shave, despite body hair being perfectly natural and not at all dirty. This disgust is so strong it has even bled over into an aversion toward male body hair which has seen a sharp decline in popularity since the shaggy chested disco days. Now men are being inundated with “manscaping” advertisements and expectations of manicured if not completely removed body hair.

So that’s the background but where’s this going?

While female body hair removal is firmly ingrained in western beauty standards, a new generation of women are rebelling against those ideals - body hair included. Recent studies have shown a shift in body hair trends among young women. Only 77% percent of women 16 to 24 reported regularly shaving their pits in 2016 and 85% shaved their legs, down from 95% and 92% respectively just two years prior. Since then we’ve started to see models, celebrities, and everyday women with unshaven pits and hairy legs. Body positivity campaigns have even gotten a few advertisers to include body hair in their ads. Now you can see razors actually shaving hair from women’s bodies instead of inexplicably running over baby smooth skin.

Women have always told ourselves that hair removal is a choice but we’ve never before been encouraged to choose not doing it. Instead we’ve been brainwashed to think it’s dirty and disgusting and that no one will accept us for being hairy. Today’s young woman is actually presented with a choice, “to shave or not to shave” and a lot of them are choosing not to. Which is great news for people like me who have hirsutism and are sick of being shamed for how nature made us.

But we’ve still got a very long way to go before I can be confident that my neck beard won’t hold me back both socially and professionally. A lot of the women who have publicly displayed body hair in recent years have come under attack by people calling them various shades of “gross” and some have even been sent death threats. It’s one thing for a rich and famous Hollywood movie star to take that kind of risk but for an autistic office worker living in a conservative backwater that’s a whole different game.

Whatever your thoughts and feelings on body hair, America still hasn’t escaped the shame of the last hundred years. Women are still very much judged for being hairy. A lot of people still think it’s gross. I’m not one of them but I’m full of unpopular opinions.

#body hair #body posititivity #history

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armageddon-generation · 5 years

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Batwoman Could’ve Been the PERFECT Batfamily Show

After Gotham ended so recently, Batwoman should've positioned itself as the Ying to that show's Yang by focusing on Batman's allies instead of his enemies.

The 'Bruce disappears hook is a brilliant way to do this

Kate is our audience entry point into this world

ORACLE + GORDON

Barbra Gordon has already been paralysed via The Killing Joke, and hasn't yet become Oracle - she's still recovering

Comissioner Gordon took an early retirement after his daughter was paralysed, which is why Kate's Dad's private security force the Crows runs the streets

Batwoman and the series' events inspire him to return and reclaim Gotham for the Law by the end of season 1

TIM DRAKE + WE ARE ROBIN

Robin disappeared with Batman, so we can introduce the We Are Robin gang. At the beginning of the season they're just criminals, but after Kate defeats their ringleader she shows them a better outlet for their rage, and inspires them. Duke Thomas (future Signal) is among them

Once the we Are Robins are established Tim Drake returns to Gotham. Kate is surprised - few people outside of Gotham know there have been multiple Robins. This way we can explain the different versions to people not in the know

Just like after Bruce was sent back in time in the comics, Tim has gone travelling the world as Red Robin, searching for him. Tim heard about the Robins causing civil unrest and is concerned about them marring Robin's good name.

Tim and Kate clash over the Robins' chaotic, violent modus oprendi - Tim enforces a philosophy of Robin as the light to Batman's dark - promoting positivity, not violence. A loose adaptation of the Robin War storyline follows where Duke Thomas emerges as the Robins' leader and rallies them to be more controlled and less violent

Tim leaves after this mini-arc, satisfied Gotham is in good hands. He also teaches Kate more about the detective side of Batman - he isn't just a blunt instrument. Tim will be our primary link to the 'Bruce's location' mystery throughout the series

NIGHTWING

Dick arrives in Gotham on a case from Bludhaven. Kate thinks he's abandoned Gotham - he should've taken up the mantle while Bruce was gone.

Explore Dick's troubled history with Bruce (not to F**k Batman levels), how Babs being Batgirl caused him to quit, and the one-two punch of Jason Todd's death and Barbra's paralysis only validated his getting out while he could

Tender scenes between Dick and Babs alluding to thier teenage crushes on each other.

As a cop, Dick hates the Crows being on Gotham's streets and more actively conflicts with Kate's father, driving up the tension between them and Batwoman

RED HOOD

This arc would be like a finale-style thing

Jason Todd returns and starts assassinating criminals with the ambition of 'controlling' crime. Kate is a soldier, more brutal than Bruce, so she has greater sympathy for Jay's methods

Jay is after the Joker. Like in The Dark Knight Returns, the Joker has 'retired' to Arkham since Batman left - he got bored pretty quickly. This arc introduces him properly after a few teases earlier in the series.

Jay learns of Barbra's paralysis (which happened after he died) - even then Bruce wouldn't kill him. A scene where Jason visits Babs (little brother/big sister dynamic).

Both Dick and Tim return for this arc, losing their shit over the Joker. Kate's reaction to the Joker is much like Terry McGuiness's in Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker. She doesn't get why everyone is so scared of this stupid clown.

Tim is the one who figures out how Jason was resurrected; just like in the Red robin comic he's been travelling through the world of assassins and knows about the Lazarus Pit.

I think doing the Red Hood arc without Bruce - the main target of Jason's anger - is super interesting. Most people share his anger at Bruce for disappearing.

It also lets us dig deep into the inter-Robin dynamics - Jason hates Dick because he always had to live up to him (do that thing in the comics where Jay had to dye his red hair black to 'look like Robin')

Jay hates Tim for replacing him, for being proof Bruce didn't learn his lesson, for Bruce treating Tim better, the way he should've treated Jason

Kate is instrumental to this arc because, being outside all the drama, she has objectivity. She forces Dick and Tim to get their heads out of their asses and talk to Jason, forces them to confront the problem.

Instead of taking the Joker to Bruce as he does in the Under the Red Hood movie, Jason takes Joker to Babs, who has suffered the most because of him. Confronted with the man who 'ruined' her life, Babs proves bigger and stronger than him. She refuses to kill him. Unlike Jason, she's moving on and growing past her trauma, not looking for revenge.

Joker (being the Joker) turns the tables on Jay and has him at his mercy. Kate swoops in and, like Terry in Return of the Joker, messes with the Joker's head by refusing to take him seriously. The Joker is distracted, screaming about Kate not being Batman, and Babs gets to knock him the fuck out.

Jason escapes, but not before dropping a clue connecting Bruce's disappearance to the League of Assassins

I know the showrunners admitted they have no clue where Bruce is yet, so in my version he's off on some quest with Ras Al Guhl. In the time since he's been gone he's married Talia and had a kid. no-one in Gotham knows this yet.

VILLAINS

We can explore how Batman’s absence has had a strange effect on Gotham's villains - many have gone into states of hibernation similar to the Joker.

Two Face gets his dark Knight Returns plotline where the attempt to repair his face,

Mr Freeze has a similar ‘cure’ story a la Batman Beyond

Clayface (as in the Rebirth run of Detective Comics) is trying to go straight - using his shape-shifting gift to make a name for himself in the movie business. He thinks he's finally been accepted, but people are just sucking up to him because of his talent - the reality of their disgust threatens to push him back over the edge

Without Batman there to fight her, Poison Ivy has pretty much taken over Gotham's main park space, but a kind of stalemate has been reached - she won't attack the city as long as the city doesn't move against her plants.

Kate's central dilemma is navigating these unusual waters - she toys with the idea of putting Ivy behind bars and we get an episode of her exploring the micro-climate of the transformed Park. Kate's disturbance makes Ivy threaten the city, and she has to stretch her underused negotiation muscles to talk her down.

I like the idea of Ivy as an ambivalent character, not good or evil. She'll do whatever she wants. Also she and Kate would have killer sexual chemistry.

Harley. Exploring Harley in such a strongly feminist show would be fascinating. Joker has closed off, given himself up. Harley is forced to fend without him, and finds an antihero niche with the Gotham City Sirens (hi, Ivy!)

With Bruce's disappearance, Wayne enterprises is designing revolutionary new weapons for the Crows. It's revealed that they’re using the Riddler to design these. After Batman disappeared it was presumed Nygma went through therapy and was moved away from Gotham - in fact he's here.

This plot point is inspired by the New 52's Zero Year arc. Kate discovers the foul play when the Crow's systems go haywire because of a virus Nygma planted, sending Gotham into a blackout and giving the Riddler control of its municipal systems

Kate finds Nygma and exposes Wayne Enterprises' corruption, but in the process Riddler escapes.

Similar to Ivy, Kate's appearance excites the Riddler and he reactivates his Saw-like trap rooms across the city. Kate has a different, much blunter way of solving puzzles that frustrates him, used to Bruce's genius-level intellect.

This raises the question - is Batwoman a liability to the city?

BATGIRL(S)/BIRDS OF PREY

With Riddler's re-emergence triggers the appearance of Spoiler. In the comics Stephanie Brown is Cluemaster's daughter, but no-one really gives a shit about him. The benefit of a decade-plus old Batman means his rogues gallery can easily have kids - Stephanie had her name changed in witness protection.

Steph helps Kate beat the Riddler in collaboration with Bab's hacking skills. Kate sees potential in Spoiler and sends her to Babs to be trained.

As Batwoman's appearance reawakens super-crime in Gotham, the Crows get desperate. They hire world- renowned assassin David Cain to start taking out targets

Intro Cassandra Cain.

Cass + Steph + Babs are this series' version of the Birds of Prey

Babs teaches Cass sign-language to communicate. Steal her friendship with Clayface from the Rebirth Detective Comics - Clayface leaves the movie business again because it was unhealthy, and is trying to do good

Everyone is very protective of Cass and determined she won't fight

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