#I can't believe that now they will be in hiatus

[two-white-butterflies]

sucked into a bagel

Description: A corporate attorney's life is forever changed by a chance encounter with an actress, who happens to be a former classmate. A mismatched bagel order leads to romance.

Pairing: harvey specter/actress!reader (mentioned!carlos sainz)

A/N: writing style is a bit experimental. reader has a screen name because i hate using y/n l/n. suits but in 2024 because i do not want to adjust to the past.

THERESÈ MARQUINA IS BACK – IS SHE OVER THE BREAKUP?

Theresè Marquina was in a 3-year relationship with Spanish F1 Racer, Carlos Sainz, before they separated July this year. Their breakup was followed by an announced hiatus by the actress. Now, she's making her way out of the woodworks.

Has she finally moved on?

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CLICK HERE FOR MORE ARTICLES RELATED TO 'THERESÈ'

WHO IS CARLOS SAINZ?

THERESÈ MARQUINA AND CARLOS SAINZ IN GOOD TERMS AFTER THE BREAKUP

WHO IS REBECCA DONALDSON?

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New York has always been close to your heart; the uninviting atmosphere, the people that walked past and refused to look back. A hoodie and some sunglasses were the only things needed to remain unknown. "One bagel cream cheese filling, please." You smiled.

This was your favorite bagel place, the cart always found itself standing in front of a corporate building – how wonderful it must be for these employees to eat yummy bagels after a long day of work. "You want any juice with that?" Nathan asks while jotting down your order. "Are you serious?" You scoff and he responds with a chuckle.

"Wait on the side," he says methodically.

You placed your hands in of your pockets, warming your palms against the coldness that surrounded you. After spending the majority of your developmental years in tropical countries, your body has refused to acclimate to the american weather.

Thus, leading to this feeling of coldness.

I hope that Nathan makes my order faster, you thought, not willing to wait another minute outside.

"The regular," a male voice says. You lift your gaze, locking eyes with the man standing in front of you. He has beautiful blonde hair (a weird hairstyle), a manly physique - and he was obviously sharper than the younger chaps standing around you. He was wearing a custom-made suit - silk blend...and he was staring at you.

You looked away.

I hope he didn't recognize me. Of course he wouldn't. I've got to stop being such a narc, you fought with your inner demons.

He was standing beside you at this point. You turned to look at him again, and fuck. He was still staring at you. "Is there something on my face?" Your eyebrows merged together. He shakes his head.

"Y/N L/N." He says your real name.

The way that he uttered your name, the intonation of his voice... "Harvey Specter." You answered with a smile on your face. An old friend – although, you couldn't quite call him a friend. He was someone that you relied on back during your days in Harvard, but then again, you only spent a year in that university. "I can't believe that you already forgot about me," Harvey cracks a smile.

"No, I didn't forget about you. You just look different." Your eyes narrowed. You've never seen him wear this sharp of a suit before. On his first day on campus, he wore this outrageous suit with a skinny tie, and you proceeded to call him 'skinny tie' the entire year. "And you haven't aged a day," he flirts – his charisma untested by time.

"Some things never change, eh." Your smile deepens. "- matter of fact, I thought that you were the one who forgot about me. You didn't return any of my letters, and you didn't accept my myspace request." You confronted him, a bit of your heart wondering why he didn't reach out.

"I've been busy," he informs. "- remember Jessica? I'm working for her now, Junior Partner, Pearson Hardman." He says.

Being a lawyer was the only thing that he wanted in this life. Harvey liked the smell of blood in the water. It made you happy to see him where he wanted to be. "Congratulations. That sounds amazing Harvs!" You placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Bagel for Teresa!" Nathan says your name wrong again. "I'll see you in another day. By the way! This is my phone number, call me." You winked while walking up to the counter to retrieve your order.

He waves goodbye at you, while pocketing the call card.

Harvey holds the warm bagel in his left hand, while playing with the call card on his left.

THERESÈ MARQUINA +XXXXXXXXXX William Morris Entertainment

He remembers the first day that he met you. Both of you were running late for Professor Gerard's class, no doubt, sweating balls; because the professor's name has only been uttered around campus in hushed whispers. He was renowned for not giving A's, and being cruel when it came to his grading system.

He was someone that you couldn't risk offend. He was quite particular about tardiness. You smiled at him, walked hand-in-hand through those intimidating doors - swallowed the sermon beside him, and he found himself having a slight crush on you.

It was rare to see a beautiful, kind, and smart person. God normally grants a person one of those three things, but seldom all. You gave him all of your notes, helped him through torts and explaining all the labor laws in New York. Just when he was about to confess his feelings, you suddenly told him that you were shifting to another school. Juilliard to Major in Fine Arts.

You were moving to New York. He was in Cambridge. It wasn't going to work so he held his tongue. He let you slip away, and after graduation he figured that what he felt for you was nothing but the caprice of his youth. He's all but forgotten about you, until today.

"When are you going to eat that bagel, Harvey?" He hears Donna's voice through the small intercom. "Have long have you been watching me?" He asks a question. He sees Donna roll her eyes through the glass window. "Give her a call. I'm sure she'll pick up." Donna makes another smart guess.

Donna knows everything.

"Do you even know who she is?" Harvey raises an eyebrow. If Donna finds out, then she'll totally freak out. After all, she was the one that told him to watch Pretty Woman.

"Boy loves girl. Girl gives boy her number. What more should I know?" Donna shrugs. "If you say so..." Harvey switches off the intercom.

You slowly unraveled the foil away from your bagel. "Finally," you breathed while taking a long awaited bite. "What the fuck," you groaned realizing that there was no filling inside your bagel. It's basically a bread at this point! Why eat a bagel if it's going to taste like absolute nothing.

"Fuck, maybe Harvey got my order." You placed the bagel down. Slowly, reaching for your phone inside your left pocket. "Damn, I should have asked for his number." You tell yourself.

Suddenly, your phone starts ringing. It was an unknown number.

"Hello, this better be Harvey." You pick up.

He responds with an amused chuckle.

"Nope, I found this number on a bathroom wall." He teased. "Ha ha, very funny." You scoffed. Your eyes suddenly landing on that boring excuse of a bagel with no fillings. "- have you eaten your bagel yet?" You asked. Was it too late for a switch? Yes, I've already taken a bite.

"Nope, I'm about to." He says.

"I think we messed up our orders. I got this boring excuse of a bagel with no fillings." You played with the sesame seeds on top of the bread. "Oh are you insulting my order?" He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, there's no cream cheese or peanut butter or banana in here. Respectfully, this is worst than wheat bread." You groaned.

"I'm sorry that my order is ... vanilla. Not everyone is like you." He jested in return, earning a slight giggle from you.

"Why did you call, by the way?" You inquired.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go and eat dinner with me. We have a lot of catching up to do, only if a few hours is enough to cover all that's happened in ten years?" His eyebrows merged together. He was beginning to sound like Harvey from before - the one that strived to be the best version of himself, before the reality of this world was made evidently clear.

"If it's not enough, we can always schedule a part two." You hummed.

"Where will we meet?" You asked, looking at your empty schedule.

"Send me your address, and I'll send my driver."

"I'll send my driver, okay fancy pants."

You take a deep breath, staring at your reflection through the mirror.

Is it a date?

"Fuck," you cursed while combing through your hair.

Harvey is just a friend. An old friend rediscovered in a world filled of people who wanted to use you for their own benefit. In a fast paced world, it is easy to let go of relationships – to be numb when it comes to abandonment because everyone always moves forward, or back.

You slip on the Alaïa dress that you bought years prior. Harvey didn't specify if the restaurant that you were going to was casual or formal, therefore you chose a dress that was carefully sitting in the middle. If it was a casual affair then you'd slip in a black YSL jacket. If it was formal then you'd put on the earrings that were carefully hiding in your bag's pockets.

You could only hope that the paparazzi wouldn't be snapping pics.

"Thank you for inviting me to dinner." You pressed a kiss to his cheek, inhaling his scent of expensive cologne. "- it's been a tough year," you added while settling on the couch in front of him.

Everyone was dressed to the nines; and it seemed to you that Harvey was permanently attached to his suits. "I've not been updated. I'm sorry." He handed you the special menu while taking sip of wine. "- but I did watch that film of yours. My secretary recommended it." He informed with a smile on his face.

"Which one? Don't tell me it was First Daughter." Your eyebrows merged together. That movie was particularly difficult to film. "No, it as Pretty Woman. I might say, Richard Gere is a fine man." His eyes narrowed and a small laugh escapes your mouth.

You continued talking after that - the waiter delivered your meals. You both had pasta. A dish that you bonded with Harvey in the first year. He has never been blessed with skill in cooking, so you always popped up in his condo (that Jessica paid for) to make meals.

As the laughter died down, you took a deep breath.

"For what it's worth. I made the right choice choosing Juilliard, but gods did I miss our friendship." You confessed. "- it wasn't the same. I did make some friends but we were all in over our head trying to impress the next producer, the next director, the next casting agent. It was physically exhausting that I began to miss the mental exhaustion of studying law." You chuckled, taking a bite of your pasta.

"You never did tell me the reason why you left - or why you chose to be an actress instead of being a lawyer." Harvey says.

"I told you that it was my dream to become a lawyer, but along the lines I realized that it wasn't really what I wanted. I was just doing what my parents were telling me to do." You paused.

"How did you tell your father that?" He chuckles, aware of your father's strict demeanor. "I told him that it didn't matter if I was going to live in a smaller house, with a smaller car, and a simpler life. I wanted to do something that made me happy. It didn't matter if I had to scrape my knees trying to make it movie to movie. I just wanted to be able to film." You continued.

"- thanks to my parents support, I'm fucking famous." You added.

Harvey's eyes drift to the figure behind you.

You turned to look, and it was a man with his phone out. Recording. "Oh, it happens." Your face suddenly turns stoic. Aware that someone was watching - and that you needed to act appropriately. "I can't believe this shit is legal in our country," Harvey rolls his eyes.

"Sometimes, I just want to go and break their phones." You whispered.

"Destruction of Property." Harvey smirks. "- I'd like to add assault to that list." He says, standing up and walking towards the man.

"I've done that before, actually." You smile.

"Wanna do it again?" He offered.

theresèmarquina: Thank you for the wonderful dinner & for getting that man to delete his 'paparazzi' pictures of me. I didn't look good in that angle. You are 100% NYC's best closer @harveyspecterlaw

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gotthatflow: NOTICE ME THERESE !!

DonnaPaulsen: @harveyspecterlaw

Donna places the stack of files on Harvey's desk loudly. He raises an eyebrow, noticing her annoyed demeanor. "I found out through social media. I can't believe that you didn't tell me!" Donna raises her voice. It was the first time in a very long time that Donna lost her cool.

"You didn't ask," Harvey shrugs, signing a few contracts.

"Theresè Marquina is literally every woman's favorite actress. Pretty Woman, First Daughter, Noting Hill! She's literally who I want to be when I grow up." Donna paced back and forth.

How was it possible that this flew under her radar? She was Donna for god's sake. She knows everything. "I didn't think that it was that serious." Harvey pretended to be unbothered. "How did you even manage to date her?" Donna suddenly asks.

Harvey's face relaxes, then tenses up.

"I'm not dating her." Harvey groaned. "Why the hell are you not?" Donna looked behooved. "- because we are just friends, Donna." Harvey cleared up, while placing some of the files inside the drawers.

"Wait a minute," Donna takes a deep breath. Everything was starting to make sense. "She's the girl from Harvard." She accuses. Harvey frowns. "How the hell do you know about that?" He queries.

"When we were still working in the DA. I got you drunk - and you couldn't stop talking about this girl who left you in Harvard. You kept rambling on and on about how you were in love with her." Donna remembers. Of course, she remembers everything.

"Donna, get the hell out of my office." Harvey groans.

"I'm not telling you to go out there and tell her that you love her, or loved her. I just want to say that yesterday, while you were talking to her - I saw the real Harvey." She informs, walking out of his office before he can say another thing about her getting out.

PART TWO TO BE POSTED.

FOLLOW ME AND TURN YOUR NOTIFS ON BECAUSE I'M TOO BUSY IN SCHOOL TO HAVE A TAGLIST :((

[stillboredbuttrying]

I just finished ep48 of Hi Nay ( @hinaypod) after binging for like 2h. It keeps getting more tragic but the Donner phone call was so sweet 😭. Also I'm happy Mari's naynay is still alive, I started to think that she was actually dead and Mari was doing the whole voice message thing to cope.

I love how every villain they meet turns out to not be too villainous but trying to unmade the focai.

Also the story of Mari's nay getting asked to curse people for petty things (not the killing people part) reminded me so much of people in my place going to old ladies that know how to work and protect from the evil eye to curse people for petty reasons and find out if they have been cursed. A continent and a sea divide us, but people are people everywhere 💀

Anyway the real question is: did Mari and Donner kiss under the mistletoe 👀?

[blossoms-phan]

[garblegarden]

Actually speaking of hnk... I've been sitting on this piece for a bit! It's sort of an extension of that one doodle I made of phos's head a while back.

[lunaetis]

SEMI-HIATUS NOTICE.

as you guys might probably notice, my activity had dropped drastically for the past month or so. i've been assigned a big chunk of responsibility at work due to a coworker quitting. that had caused me to become extremely stressed as of late. i've been exhausted and overwhelmed. my writing muse is almost non-existent because of this. with that said, i think it's warranted that i put this blog on an official semi-hiatus. i'm still not sure for how long ( it's mostly until my company can find a replacement to handle the work i had been handed last minute. ) for now, it'd be indefinite until further notice.

i'll still pop in and try to write from time to time ( as writing is one of my main sources of destressing ) but other than a few things here & there, i can't promise much ic content on my end. thank you for your patience & understanding.

[hercarisntyours]

ot5 itzy is back for real i am not okay I am crying.

[phivorce]

how many other longterm phannies got really into waterparks over the hiatus

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

its here

[kurokoros]

My one hope for the stupid haikyuu movies coming out is that they make bank and then they decide to continue the anime like what happened to Demon Slayer.

[boyfriendsmalec]

24 hours to go until we get two new episodes of The Eighth Sense 🙌 

[willowser]

willow !! your touya + eggplant fic has got me rolling around in puddles of love. i just adore how you wrote touya as the sort of: trying guy who missed out on being a kid so he’s taking that time back now kind of way. the flirtatious and completely unexpected messages he sends reminds me so much of being young, doing mischievous things for the sake of causing mischief! it’s like he’s dabbling a little in his luck with the girl he likes! then being invited over and he’s acting a fooool. outright crimes being so direct and headstrong to tease but also really means what he says— only to then find himself caught off guard when you confront him with your unspoken feelings <3 the boyish charm he carries around !!! gosh, there’s so much i loved about your piece that i can’t even begin to form coherent words. or thoughts. or anything. i enjoyed it soooo very much, i’m a little puddle of love !!!

i am a little puddle of love !!!! 🥺🥺🥺 me, me, me !!!! you're so sweet, thank you for enjoying it and taking the time to come and give me your sweet thoughts !!! 🥺 i'm so glad to hear you say that it reminds you of being young and causing mischief he he he that's what i was wanting for !!! 🥺 and i really thought i was missing my mark, so it's such a relief to hear you say so !!!! i really appreciate you for stopping by 🥺🥺 tysm !!! ✨️✨️✨️

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 39: Life

Summary: Something begins to throb in your chest as you lay there. Something thrums deep within you, something you haven’t felt in weeks.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7,343 words

Warnings: Angst, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, PTSD, nightmares, POV changes, depression and anxiety, illness, language, slightly graphic imagery, very slight violence, rumination, lots of feels, and yes finally some comfort

A/N: Yes, it has finally arrived. The time has come. We are now in the comfort. This very much is a good place to end things for the next month. If you haven't seen my post then I'll say it here, I will be putting the fic on a brief hiatus for the month of October. I have Kyletober planned and trying to do CRCB at the same time will be too much. So this will be the last chapter for a couple weeks while I focus on other things and just give my brain a little break from CRCB. It's been eight months of just pumping out long chapters every week, or almost every week, so I need a little break to focus on other things. I'll still be writing and posting things here (and Ao3 of course) but there won't be another CRCB chapter posted until November.

But anyway, I hope you enjoy this one and the comfort starting and I'm super excited for what's coming next month (can't believe it's almost October)

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“I need you to be brave.” Christine says, staring up at him. 

His heart thumps in his chest. How bad is it that not only did she summon him down here, but she’s asking him to be brave. He knows you’re sick, that you’ve fallen ill after your moment of anger earlier. She had informed them over dinner as she made some broth that you came down with a fever. 

They had all been worried, sharing glances at the news. John looked like a dog that had been scolded. It was his fault, after all. 

If anything happens to you, it is his fault. 

Johnny swallows the lump in his throat, nodding slowly as he stares down at Christine. “I can be brave.” 

Christine stares up at him for a long moment before nodding. She pushes the door open, leading him inside your room. The scent in the air is thick, tainted by the bitter scent of anxiety still lingering in the air, and the sour scent of illness. He misses the fresh scent of strawberries, he has missed it over the last few weeks. Your scent had taken on a bitter edge ever since the cameras were revealed to them. It’s only gotten stronger recently after the events that transpired. 

All of their scents have been off lately. 

It’s dark in the room aside from the bedside lamp. It casts a soft glow around the room, elongating the shadows in the corners. They loom threateningly, and his fingers twitch to turn on the overhead light. 

You don’t like the overhead light. It’s too bright. 

You always prefer softer light. Is it an omega thing, or is it just a you thing? He’s not quite sure. 

How little they really understand you. 

The lamp illuminates a pile of blankets on the bed, stacked one on top of each other to create a lump of soft fabric. You’re underneath that pile, he knows it. You’ve always liked blankets, always carried one with you in the barracks, eternally cold in the harsh world they existed in on base. This many blankets though? It was excessive even for you. 

He approaches the bed slowly, scared at what he might find. Images of you laying in a puddle of blood, cold and stiff fills his mind. Images of a skeletal figure reduced to nothing but skin stretched over bones has his heart racing. What will he find on the other side of that pile obscuring you from his vision? 

He swallows down his fear, reminding himself that he’s a soldier. He’s seen dead bodies before, he’s killed before. So why is he so scared now? 

This isn’t war. It’s you. 

He steps up to the side of the bed, looking down on you. You’re shivering, trembling under the blankets. Sweat beads on your forehead, skin dewy and clammy in your fever. You look more alive than the skeletal figure he had pictured in his mind, but you don’t look well. 

You look near death. 

“I’m worried about her.” Christine says, closing the door behind her. “She needs someone from her pack close. You’re making the most effort right now, and if anyone might get through to her, it’s you. She needs...someone.” Christine sighs. “Someone who can offer what I can’t.”  

“She needs a member of her pack.” Johnny says, easily putting together what Christine was saying. 

He knows what she’s asking. He’s scared. He’s not sure how you’ll react. The last people you want to see right now is your pack, including him. How will you react to having him so close? 

“Exactly.” Christine says, stepping up right next to him.

Her fingers wrap around his wrist, and he lets her guide his hand to your cheek. It’s hot and clammy against his palm, a fire blazing under your skin. You let out a shuddering breath, the air fanning weakly against his wrist. Your head turns just slightly, pressing into his hand. It’s a good sign, despite the delirium you have to be stuck in. What are you imagining is happening right now? What is your brain telling you? 

“Touch her, talk to her.” Christine says, releasing his wrist. He keeps his hand there, pressed against your cheek. “We need to try and get her back before this gets worse.” 

Before they lose you. 

She won’t say it out loud. 

She doesn’t need to. 

Johnny nods, turning his head to look at Christine over his shoulder. She looks exhausted, and not just because of the late hour. She’s done so much over the past few weeks watching you and caring for you. Maybe it is time one of them tries to step up and help her. You can’t avoid them forever, no matter how much you might feel like trying. 

He has to try. For you. 

“I know what tae do.” He says, his eyes flickering to the books stacked on your dresser, the ones Simon and John picked up. 

Christine squeezes his arm. “I’m just across the living room if you need me.” 

“I’ll try not to.” He says. 

She stares up at him for a long moment before nodding. She understands. He doesn’t have to say much else. She leaves the door cracked and he doesn’t mind, moving away from you to look through the books on the dresser. A handful of them are new, or at least ones he’s never seen you read before. A couple are ones he knows are in your collection at the barracks. He picks one of those, some fantasy novel he’s seen you read more than once. 

He looks between the bed and the chairs. He could pull one over and sit by your side. 

No, Christine said it was better to touch you. 

Instead he climbs onto the bed, sitting close enough he can feel the heat from your body. He cracks open the book, flipping through to the first page. He clears his throat, staring down at you for a moment before he begins to read. 

Rain batters the roof, coming down hard outside. The wind is blowing, whooshing past the house, rattling the shutters. The storm blew in from the sea, dumping rain by dinner and then the wind picked up by the time they were all getting ready to settle in for the night. 

It feels fitting, a storm blowing in at a time when a storm is brewing within their pack.

The storm he blew into their pack. 

He lays there in bed, listening to it rage outside. It’s quiet in the house, Simon and Johnny already settled in, and so are you downstairs. Kyle is beside him, but not asleep. He’s laying awake again as they have done since their arrival. He can feel the heat of Kyle’s body against his arm as he lays on his back, Kyle on his side facing away from him. 

“You just had to do it, didn’t you?” Kyle asks quietly, breaking the silence. “Can’t even go a week without trying to apologize knowing full well she won’t forgive you.” 

John stays silent, having expected some kind of reprimanding for his actions. He really was selfish for what he did. Kyle is right. You won’t forgive him, no matter how many times or ways he tries to say sorry. 

“You’re just making it worse.” Kyle huffs out. “You’re the last person that should try apologizing right now.”

“You’re right.” He finally says. “It was selfish of me to do that. I just wanted her to know-” 

“She knows.” Kyle snaps, cutting him off. “She’s not stupid and oblivious. She knows we’re all feeling guilty, she knows how sorry we all are. She won’t let us apologize until she’s ready. Shows just how little you actually understand her, trying to do that.” Kyle pushes himself up to sit. “She doesn’t want words. She’s had words spewed at her, her whole life telling her what to do, how to feel, how to act. She want’s actions. She wants us to prove to her that we do care, that we are sorry, that we’re making an effort to make things up to her. She wants us to prove that we’re putting her first by putting her first.” 

John knows he’s right. Words won’t solve a situation like this. None of them know where to start, though. How do you try and make things up to someone when you’re not even sure that person wants you to try? 

“She’s sick now, because of what you did.” Kyle continues. “If anything happens to her...” He trails off, shaking his head. 

“I’ll let you take the first shot.” John says. “I know. I’ve been a miserable excuse of an alpha. It’s easy when you have the confines of the military to hold everything in place. When those expectations dictate your life and how to run a pack. It’s easy, when you can exist as a pack with those set routines and structures. The facade that makes everything seem like it's working.” He shakes his head. “We never would have worked outside of those confines.” 

Kyle’s head turns slightly towards him, but his gaze is still on the far wall. “No, we wouldn’t have. None of us would have chosen this in the first place.” 

“Probably not.” John agrees. “Then we got an omega added, an outsider that showed us just how weak we really were.” 

“We were crumbling long before that.” Kyle says. “We weren’t ready for an omega, we shouldn’t have ever had an omega.” 

“I should never have been head alpha.” John says. “Being an alpha is different from being a captain. It shouldn’t have been me.” 

Kyle snorts. “He would have never agreed.” 

“That delay might have saved us.” 

“Or it would have made things worse.” Kyle says. “Shepherd wanted us to bond with her right away so his control over us would strengthen if he had to use that power. If those bonds weren’t put into place when they were, they might have tried to force it.” 

“That would have only destabilized things further.” John says. Kyle isn’t wrong. Who knows what lengths they would have gone to, to ensure what they wanted would happen. “They were watching us from the start. They knew exactly how to play all of us.” 

“Simon was right all along in his suspicions.” Kyle says, laying back down on the bed. Their shoulders are touching. It feels nice, having him close again. They’ve been close for the last few days, forced together by their sleeping arrangements, but it feels different now. 

“He’ll be a better alpha than I ever could be.” John says quietly, almost speaking to himself. 

“I think she will come to forgive you eventually.” Kyle says, turning his head to look at John. “You just have to give her time. A lot of time. You have to figure out how to prove yourself worthy of that forgiveness.” 

“I want to take her to the beach.” John says. “Once she’s recovered.” 

“If she recovers.” Kyle had pieced together the worry in Christine’s voice combined with her words. They all had. 

“She will.” John says. “She’s a tough little thing. She’s not going to give up just like that.” 

“I hope you’re right.” Kyle says. 

“I may not have the best track record with being right currently, but I’m confident in her and her strength.” John turns his head to look at Kyle in the darkness. The storm is calming outside, the wind dying down and the rain lightening. “She’s stronger than all of us combined.” 

The corners of Kyle’s lips twitch. “You are right about that.” 

It smells good. 

There’s a rich scent in the air as you begin to wake. It smells like Christmas, like spices and citrus. Warm gingerbread and cider. Freshly squeezed orange juice on Christmas morning just like every year. It had been your favorite, though you never understood the lengths your mother went to, the early morning and the hours spent in the kitchen on Christmas slaving away to make everything perfect. Everyone got something they wanted, something they loved. You never appreciated that effort until now. 

Oranges. Spices. Warmth. 

You know that scent. 

It’s hot in the room, sweat soaking your skin as you lay on your right side. Heat surrounds you like a cocoon, just like the scent. Warm and soft and too much. You try to wiggle out from under the blankets but you can’t move, so instead you shuffle them off. Some of them hit the floor with soft plops, the others just barely hanging on the side of the bed, trapped under your body. You’re still stuck, still hot as you lay there, a comforting weight around you. The scent floods your nose, fills your body with a pleasant feeling as you lay there, breathing through your nose. Oranges, spices, warmth. 

Someone is baking a pie.

It smells good. You want to bury yourself in it, press yourself into that scent until it’s the only thing you can smell. It brings you a comfort you didn’t realize you were missing. Something fills your chest, a weight beginning to press down inside of you.

Your hair sticks to your face as you lay there, tempted to get up and see who is baking and why. There’s weight pressing down on you from the outside as well. You can’t move. You’re stuck. 

The weight around you moves. 

No, it’s not pie. 

It’s Johnny. 

That’s why you know the scent. That’s why it feels so familiar, so comforting. It’s Johnny. Johnny is pressed up against your back, his arm tossed over your waist. That’s why it’s so hot, his body putting off warmth like a heater. 

You should be angry at the breach of your clearly placed barriers. You should be upset that he would come in here and just climb in bed like this. You should be pissed that one of them would try something like this after your outburst yesterday. 

You shouldn’t be crying. 

Not out of relief. 

Oh how you missed this. 

Something begins to throb in your chest as you lay there, crying quietly in Johnny’s arms. Something begins to thrum deep within you, something you haven’t felt in weeks. Life? Hope? Happiness? 

You should be upset. 

You can’t be. 

Johnny grunts quietly behind you, his arm leaving your waist as he stretches. He’s awake now, or maybe he hadn’t been at all and had been waiting for some sign of life, some movement from you, something to try and give him a hint at what you must be feeling. He doesn’t say anything, laying still as you sniffle in the silence. No one else is up yet, despite the blue light of dawn coming in through the gap in the curtain. 

“Johnny?” You whisper, even the quiet sound hurting your sore throat. You’re thirsty, desperately so, but that’s a problem for later. 

“It’s me, kitten.” He says hesitantly, the pet name making a sob tear from your throat. 

“Johnny,” You cry, the tears falling in a cascade. You can’t stop them. You’ve lost complete control as you lay there sobbing. “Hold me.” 

He doesn’t say anything else, his arms wrapping around you and tugging you close against his chest. He locks you in his embrace, holding you tightly against his chest as you cry. It feels good. Life and energy flows through you again for the first time in weeks. That empty space in your chest begins to fill slowly, warmth blossoming in your body despite the sweat soaking you both. Johnny offers no complaints as he presses his face into your hair. 

How you missed this. 

How you need this. 

You seem more relaxed at dinner. Despite your angry outburst the day before, and your sudden illness, you look significantly less miserable than you did your first attempt at joining them for dinner. The yelling did a number on your throat, but even now it’s nothing compared to that first day. You’re having soup again, and this time there’s a side of mash and peas next to the bowl. 

You even walked to the table without the crutch. 

Simon sits beside you again, all of them taking their respective seats at the table. They’ve assigned themselves these seats, even when you don’t join them for a meal. You’re at the head of the table as you were the first time, Simon and Chrstine on either side of you. Kyle and Johnny are seated next to them, and John is across the table from you. You’ve been avoiding looking at him. You haven’t even so much as glanced up at him. 

Simon is watching you carefully out of the corner of his eye, trying not to make it obvious. If you’ve noticed, you haven’t shown any disapproval. He’s ready in case he has to act fast again, but you are far more steady than you were that first time. There’s no tremble to your hand as you bring the spoon up to your mouth. 

The others look happier than before too. Johnny has stopped crying. Not even a sniffle from him ever since this morning when he emerged from your room. None of them had said anything about it, though they have an inkling of what had happened, judging by Christine’s lack of reaction to it. Kyle looks happier too, sitting straighter like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. It probably has, with the lightening of the mood. Whatever happened with Johnny this morning, it’s made a huge change already.  

John has never been much of a religious man, but god bless Johnny for whatever magic he worked this morning. 

You don’t even look feverish as you sit there, spooning soup into your mouth. A lingering low-grade fever, Christine had informed them earlier that afternoon, but significantly less concerning than things had been yesterday.  

He’s glad to hear it. He’s always glad to hear Christine’s updates on how you’re doing, how well you’re healing, at least physically. The body heals easily. Mentally...there’s still a long way to go. Healing physically will help mentally, but with all the trauma, years and years of trauma, it’s going to take a long time to heal from that. 

The clink of your spoon in your bowl draws him from his thoughts and he glances up at you. 

“Getting full?” Christine asks as you take a sip of your water, wincing slightly as you swallow it. 

“Can I have some tea?” You ask. 

“Sure,” Christine says, going to push her chair back, but John is already standing.

“I’ll make some.” He says, not offering any room for argument as he turns his back on the table to head for the kettle. 

You’ve been drinking more tea lately, likely to soothe your throat. He never thought he’d see the day, given your determination to stand with Johnny on the side of coffee. It’s a bit late for coffee, but he does know it wouldn’t keep you awake in the slightest. You love your sleep, as most omegas do, and nothing will get in the way of it. Not even some late evening caffeine. 

He sets mugs out on a tray, deciding to make tea for everyone. At least that way it’ll make it seem less targeted at you. He’s not doing it to try and impress you or win your affections back. He just wants to help take the load off of Christine’s shoulders. She’s done so much for you, for all of them, already. 

He steeps the tea before bringing the mugs to the table along with some milk and sugar. He knows at least Simon and Kyle will drink some, and he will as well. He brings the kettle over, filling the mugs with tea. All of them sit there watching him, waiting tensely for what will happen next. Will you take the mug of tea he offers? Or will you refuse. Even if you threw it in his face, it wouldn’t make him mad. It would be horribly painful, yes, but he would deserve it. 

Perhaps him doing this was a mistake. 

He stares at the sugar and milk as he grabs one of the mugs. Do you like sugar or milk in your tea? He’s not sure. He doesn’t even know how you take your tea. He knows you like creamer in your coffee. But how do you take your tea? 

What a sad excuse of a human being he is. 

You don’t look at him as he sets the mug next to your water glass. You’re still eating your soup, your hand trembling just slightly now. Your scent is tainted still, a whiff of it filling his nose. Displeasure, a hint of burning anger. 

This was a mistake. 

He sets the milk and sugar next to you first, letting you finish making your tea. He won’t push that boundary and risk making it wrong. It would only add fuel to the fire, make it more obvious that he knows and cares so little for you. He doesn’t even know how you take your tea. 

He takes his seat again as the others help themselves to the tea, even Johnny taking a mug. Whether he’s doing it because he wants to make the moment feel less awkward, or because he genuinely wants some, John will never know. 

He made a mistake in doing that. 

Still, despite the awkwardness, it felt good to do that. 

Maybe that’s how they get closer to you. 

The little things, things that take some of the pressure off Christine. She has to be getting tired, going nonstop all day. Anything they can do to help, they should. Things seemed to go well with Johnny, so maybe the others can have some success in their attempts to gain your favor once more. 

John will have to stay away for now. Distance is what you need from him. 

That’s alright. He has other things he can do. 

He tries to hide the small grin on his face as you pick up the mug, taking a sip of the tea. 

They’re fighting. 

You stand at the back door watching them throw punches. They’re solid punches, nothing held back, no pulling them. They’re all breathing heavily, two of them watching the other two fight. 

Simon’s fist meets Kyle’s shoulder, Kyle’s fist going for Simon’s head but he’s too fast, ducking before he drives his shoulder into Kyle’s stomach. Kyle hits the grass, disappearing from your view. 

John steps forward, pulling Simon back and speaking to him, but you can’t hear from this distance. 

“Still out there?” Dr. Keller asks, stepping up beside you. 

“Yep.” You say, watching as Johnny takes Kyle’s place against Simon. 

“John did say it would be good for them.” Dr. Keller says, wincing as Johnny’s fist hits Simon’s ribs. 

“They’re gonna start a real fight.” You say, watching as Simon starts to get more aggressive. You can tell because you’ve been in that position before. You’ve seen when that switch starts to flip, when the alpha starts to take over. He was never this aggressive with you, but perhaps even his alpha could be rational given your obvious size and strength difference. 

And the fact you’re an omega. 

“Well, that’s their problem.” Dr. Keller says. “As long as they keep it out there.” 

“They might make you patch them up afterwards.” You say. 

She lets out a snort. “There’s ice packs in the freezer and a first aid kit in the bathroom.” 

You try to hide your smile as you watch John get in between Johnny and Simon, speaking to Simon again. Maybe it will be good for them to get some of that pent up energy out. They’re all used to being so active and always having something to do. Being stuck inside has to be driving them stir-crazy. Simon has been going on runs in the morning, and you know John has been going on walks every so often. 

You’re starting to feel a bit stir-crazy yourself. It’s taking you back to the days shut up in the barracks, unable to go anywhere or do anything, having to entertain yourself for hours while they were gone. At least there you had space and room to move around, even when you were being trailed, one of them constantly following you around. They might not be hovering quite as obviously here, but it still feels suffocating, like you can’t truly have a moment to yourself. 

“I want to go for a walk.” You say, shifting on your feet. The likelihood of you going very far is slim, at least right now. 

How far you’ve fallen from your running days. 

“I suppose you could go for a little walk.” Dr. Keller gives you a sideways glance. “Might be good to help get your strength back. I doubt they’d let us go without one of them, though.” 

“Probably not.” You agree, knowing they won’t even let you sit out on the porch without one of them watching. If you left the house without even telling one of them, all hell would break loose and you’d be condemned to your room once more. 

The thought makes you wince. 

You almost wish you could go out there and throw some punches at one of them. That might make you feel a bit better. Hell, line them all up and you’ll take turns beating the crap out of all of them. Maybe that might heal some of the anger and pain still stuck inside of you. 

That’s an idea for a different day, though. 

It’s oddly warm out today, or at least that’s what Ashley said. Soon the weather will turn, though, and the cold rain will come. Lots of rain. 

Your eyes flick between Ashley and Dr. Keller. The three of you are seated in a circle around a table outside, steaming mugs of tea in front of you. Neither of them are staring at you, instead focused on each other as Ashley speaks. 

Dr. Keller has a crush. 

It’s not hard to tell. Her eyes are focused on Ashley, a smile tugging at her lips. Her gaze only flicks to you when you shift and move in your seat before she’s staring at Ashley again. You can’t blame her. You can hardly bring yourself to look away from Ashely too. 

It makes you almost miss Kyle. 

They have the same soft brown eyes and the same bright smile. They’re both perfect, like they were chiseled out of marble and brought to life. They even laugh the same, a genuine chuckle coming right from the chest. 

It makes you want to laugh, even if you have no clue what was being said. 

How has Kyle been handling this? You’ve hardly paid him any mind. His connection to John puts him too close to the source of your anger and rage and pain. Johnny cries, Simon is a brick wall, John reeks of guilt and misery. Kyle...you don’t know. He’s been a blank spot, a hazy figure in the distance. 

It almost makes you feel bad. You’ve completely cut him off, isolated him. Has he cried? Has he been sulking? How miserable does he feel about everything? Does he feel guilty or miserable at all? He has to. They all do. 

Good. You think. They deserve it. 

“You do get stuck in your head, huh?” 

Your gaze snaps up, looking between Dr. Keller and Ashley. They’re both staring at you quietly, a small smile on Ashley’s face. You did get lost in your thoughts again, stuck in your ruminations as you usually do. Lately it hasn’t been a problem, as you’re alone or with Dr. Keller often. You’re supposed to be thinking and processing. It just happens at the worst times. 

Simon would hate it still. 

“Something specific on your mind?” Dr. Keller asks. 

You probably shouldn’t say anything. How would you explain how your mind went from Dr. Keller crushing on Ashley to hoping the guys feel guilty? You’re not even sure you should reveal that you know about Dr. Keller’s crush, especially if she hasn’t said anything yet. You don’t think she has. They’re not...close in the way a couple would be, a distance still between them. Does Ashley feel the same way? It’s hard to tell since you don’t know her quite as well yet. 

Maybe that can be your goal, besides healing. Something to focus on, something to distract from the constant emotions and pain. Get Ashley and Dr. Keller together. 

They’d be perfect for each other. 

“Not really.” You finally say, looking down at the book in your lap. You’re about halfway through it. It’s fine. Nothing to write home about. 

“What do you think of the book?” Ashley asks, sensing your end to that discussion. She doesn’t push. You like that about her. 

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “Kinda slow.” 

“They are spending a lot of time on character development.” Dr. Keller says. 

“We should keep a tally of how many times the phrase “his dark eyes” gets mentioned.” Ashley says, making you laugh. 

“It’s good to hear you laugh.” Dr. Keller says, smiling at you. 

“It...feels good to laugh again.” You say. “It’s nice to have something to laugh about.” 

“Well then I’m going to make that my mission.” Ashley says, taking a sip of her tea. “Get you to laugh as much as possible.” 

You don’t think you’ll mind that one bit.

The scream dies in your throat as you jolt awake in bed. The book that had been in your hands when you fell asleep drops to the floor with a quiet thud as you jerk up into a seated position. You’re breathing heavily, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you try and calm your racing heart. It’s beating hard like it might beat right out of your chest. You’re shaking, your hands clutching at the baggy shirt you’re wearing like you’re trying to cling to some hope that it was all a dream, that you’re awake now and this is real life. 

Sweat beads on your forehead as you sit there, shaking in the darkness. You need someone. The shadows are closing in around you, your nightlight unable to keep them completely away. You need someone to fight them back. You need someone to reassure you that it was all just a dream, someone that can wipe the tears streaming down your cheeks and whisper softly to you that it’s all okay. That it’s all over. 

You need Kyle. 

Where is Kyle? How do you get to him without waking the others? You could go upstairs but what if they think you’re an intruder? You don’t even know which room Kyle is in. You wish you had a phone. You wish you could call him. You wish you could just telepathically reach out and tell him you need him and only him. 

You’ll wake them all anyway trying to find him. 

You suck a breath in, your hands still shaking as they cling to your shirt. You have to do it. It’s the only way to get them all down here, to get Kyle down here. 

You take a couple deep breaths before you scream. 

Within seconds the house is alive, footsteps racing across the living room towards your room as others thud from above. 

The overhead light stings your eyes, forcing them closed. It’s too bright, intrusive even with your eyes pinched closed. You can still see it behind your eyelids, harsh and too artificial. Just a price you have to pay to get what you need. 

Dr. Keller’s hands are soft as they peel your hands off your shirt, your fingers trembling with nothing to hold on to. They open and close, seeking out something to grip, something to give you an anchor to reality. You’re still panicking, your breaths shaky as you sit there, trembling in fear. 

“You’re alright,” She tries to soothe you, brushing your sweaty hair back. “It was just a dream.” 

You wish it was. 

“Kyle.” The name comes out as barely a whisper, stuttering out of your trembling lips. 

“What was that, sweetie?” Dr. Keller asks, leaning in closer. 

“Kyle.” You whisper louder now, the name shaky in the tense silence of the room. 

“Kyle,” Dr. Keller repeats, standing up straight. 

Quiet, hesitant footsteps approach the bed. Your eyes are still pinched closed against the harsh overhead light. You can’t bring yourself to be brave enough to open them, to face that harsh light. It might reveal the truth, that it was all just a dream, that this is still just a dream. 

It might not be Kyle approaching the bed at all.

You can’t know. You don’t want to know. You’re afraid to open your eyes. 

There’s a click as the lamp is turned on. You still can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. It’s supposed to be comforting, the soft light, but it could be used against you, giving you a false sense of hope and security. 

You flinch as the overhead light is turned off, still too afraid to open your eyes. Your hands have closed around the blanket pooled at your waist, gripping it so tightly your fingers are aching. It’s real. You’re touching it, you can feel the texture of it in your hands. It’s real. 

It’s real. 

Your breaths are shaky as you breathe in and out, trying to catch a scent. Any scent. Something to tell you that you’re really awake, that it really is Kyle standing next to the bed. 

“I’m here.” A soft voice says, something hovering in the air next to you. 

Kyle. 

You know that voice. You’d know it anywhere. 

You finally crack your eyes open, tears brimming as you turn your head to look up. Kyle is standing there awkwardly next to the bed, his hand raised as if he was reaching out to comfort you, but thought better of it. You’re glad he did. You might have spiraled into another panic if he’d touched you before you knew it was him. 

You stare at his hand for a moment before you peel one of your hands away from the blanket. Your hand is shaky as you lift it, reaching out towards his own trembling fingers. 

His fingers are warm and rough, just as you remember as they close around yours. You’re still shaking, a cold sweat forming on your skin as fear trickles down your spine. 

What if this is a dream? What if this isn’t real?

“I’m here.” He says, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. 

You want to believe him. You really do. 

You pull his hand closer, pressing your cheek against it. His skin is warm against your cheek, and like Johnny, he makes no complaints about your sweat smearing on his skin. You’ve been that close to them before, sweat mixing together, slicking skin. How far things have fallen since then. 

Your tears drip onto his skin as you hold him there, just breathing him in for a moment. He smells like the sea, but with that soft, light scent underneath. You missed that scent, more than you realize you did. 

You let out a quiet sound as you rub your cheek against his hand, almost like you’re trying to embed his scent under your skin. 

He doesn’t say anything as you lean against his hand, tears still streaming down your face. The lamp is pushing some of the darkness away, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough. You can still feel the eyes from the dark corners of the room, the shadowy figures just out of view threatening to reach out and tear you away. 

A shudder runs down your spine, your fingers squeezing around Kyle’s in what has to be a painful grip. 

“I’m here.” He says again, pulling you from the dark thoughts plaguing your mind. He’d know if someone was here. He’d know if anything threatening was nearby. 

It’s his job. 

The job. 

The thing that’s kept you so separated from them, kept you at a distance. The thing that put your life in danger, that exposed them all as liars. The thing that’s left you an empty shell.

Maybe having him down here was a mistake. 

But the shadows...

You tug on his hand, pulling him closer to the bed. He sinks down on the edge carefully, still a bit hesitant. You don’t blame him. It’s not like you’ve been the most welcoming of them. For good reason. 

You need him right now. That need for safety and security far outweighs the conflicting emotions battling in your brain right now. 

“Stay.” You say, the word tumbling out from your trembling lips. 

“You’re sure?” He asks, his thumb still stroking your knuckles. You’re not sure if he even knows he’s doing it. 

You nod, tugging him closer as you scoot over in bed. He lets you guide him, laying on top of the covers.

You try not to think about it too much. 

It’s nice having him close. The shadows don’t seem quite as dark, the threats in them silent now that he’s here. He’ll keep you safe. He’ll protect you from the silent threats. That’s why you want him. That’s his role to play in all of this. They all have roles, they all have their places in the pack. They all have a part to play, not just for you but for each other. 

They’ve been struggling. 

They’re struggling because you’re struggling. 

The silence is loud as you lay there listening to the hum of electricity. You’re not quite sure what to say, how to break the silence. What is there to say that you haven’t already conveyed by your silence? What is there to say beyond what you’ve conveyed in your anger? They all heard your outburst, they all know the source of your anger and what they did to cause it. 

What’s left to say when you have nothing tying you together anymore except a claim and a half-broken bond? What is there to say when saying the wrong thing might fray that bond even more than it already has been? 

“I’m sorry.” Kyle says, finally breaking the tense silence. 

Of course he’d start with that. 

You let out a huff, turning on your side to face away from him. “I know you all are. You don’t have to keep saying it.” 

He lets out a sigh. He knows it. He’s not apologizing to you, for you. “Nothing can change what we did and we know that. We just...want you to know that we’ll do whatever it takes to help you and support you. We don’t want to push that boundary too far, but we’re all here if you need us.” 

You let out a hum. You already know that too. That’s why Johnny came so willingly, that’s why he stayed. That’s why they all tiptoe around you and stare at you like you’re a wild animal that may strike at any moment. 

Part of you wishes they wouldn’t. 

Part of you wants to go back to the way things were. Part of you wants to pretend that everything is normal again, that you love them and they love you just as much. You want to go back to that comfortable, seamless flow of one around the other, the way they all moved in sync, aware of each other without even needing to look. You want to insert yourself into that flow again and let them guide you along with them. You want to trust them blindly again and know they’d catch you if you fall. 

They proved they won’t though. They proved you can’t trust them to catch you. You’re on your own again, forced to catch yourself, forced to save yourself. You have to make that rope to catch yourself with. 

Yet, a deeper part of you yearns for that connection. Your omega screams for it, for your alpha, for your pack. You want them back with you, you want the bonds to heal and to be stronger than they were before. You want them to do as they said and prove to you that they’ve changed, that they're putting you first. 

The omega should be first. The omega should be the center. The omega should be the sun they gravitate towards, revolve around.

That’s what the book said. That book that’s sitting on your desk in the barracks. That book you read over and over, convincing yourself that it was true and they were a good pack like that book said. 

They’re not. 

We all make mistakes. 

They’ve never had an omega before. How are they supposed to know how to have an omega in their pack if they’ve never had one before? None of them came from big packs. John is the only one who’s ever even dated an omega before. They’re just as new at this as you are. 

You probably know more than them. 

You spent years learning how to be an omega in a pack. You read the books and wrote the essays and did the research. You read that book. 

Simon read that book too. 

Yet he did nothing. 

“Why did you want me?” Kyle asks softly, pulling you from your ruminations. 

You turn your head to look at him, staring into those soft brown eyes. Brown eyes you’ve missed. Tears trail down your cheeks as you stare at him, wetting the paths of the ones that had slowed to a stop in your rumination. 

Why did you want him and not Johnny? 

Johnny was the one that came for you, that comforted you, that got you through your fever. Johnny was the one you asked to hold you, to give you that support you’ve been so desperately clawing for. 

So why did you ask for Kyle?

You turn onto your back again so you’re laying side by side, your shoulder brushing his. He’s warm, and you just want to nuzzle into him and never let him go again. 

Another tear slides down your face as you stare at him, at that concerned look on his face. “I need you to tell me it’s going to be okay.” 

That concern morphs into understanding as he shifts slightly, reaching out for you. You let him, you let his thumb brush the tear sliding down your cheek away. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just staring at you as you lay there in the warm light of the lamp. The shadows don’t seem so close now, so threatening with him here. The things that lay in the darkness waiting for you to sleep so they can seep into your mind and stir up the horrible memories lying there in wait are at bay for now, fought off just simply by his existence in this room. 

His thumb continues to brush your cheek, your skin tingling along the path it follows. “It’s going to be okay.” He says softly, quietly. 

You’re not sure if he’s convincing you of that or himself, or perhaps both. You don’t know what he’s feeling, what he’s been feeling. You’ve been ignoring him, pushing him away out of fear that if you looked too closely, you’d break down. That bond will never break between the two of you, held tight with steel simply because of that claim your alpha and his alpha has on the both of you. No matter how much you hate John, that bond can’t be broken. It can’t be cut. It can’t go away. It can’t be denied. Not completely. 

A small smile tugs at Kyle’s lips, a reassuring smile. His words are stronger this time, spoken with more conviction and surety, like he’s speaking it into existence, manifesting it for the future when things perhaps can be different. 

When things are better. 

“It’s going to be okay.” He says, cupping your cheek, staring right into your eyes as he speaks. “We’re going to be okay.” 

NEXT ->

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[0oolookitsme]

Piece of His Heart

Hii everyone, I'm back from my long hiatus!! Hope you missed me because boy did I miss YOU! <3 This one is a little emotional, a little sweet, and VERY Harry focused. Also, I was inspired to write this piece while listening to 'London's Song' by Matt Hartke, and trust me, it's a lovely song. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Verse - Artist!Harry x Photographer!Y/n

Word Count - 1.0k

Warnings - Mentions of unplanned pregnancy, financial stress.

Harry and Y/n were students, and now, parents to a newborn babygirl as well. With all of the newfound emotions rushing through them, one thing he knew was that they were going to build this new little family slowly, and lovingly.

Harry looked up at the ceiling, at the overused fan moving slowly and creakily, with one of his arms under his head while the other one remained draped over his little baby's back. 

She was curled up on top of him, breathing softly, her little hands fisting his shirt. 

Daylight was pouring into the room through the gap between the two curtains, and Harry still couldn't believe that the little one sleeping away on his chest was finally here, after a worthwhile wait of a full nine months.

He still remembers the nickname he'd given her while she was still inside her mum's belly – 'Pumpkin' he had called her, and her little frame couldn't have agreed more with him. 

Full and round cheeks hung a little low on her face, her small mouth in a pout and eyes as circular as pearls, nothing if not the true meaning of grace.

Which is why he'd settled with the name 'Opal', grinning widely while Y/n had nodded furiously with tears in her eyes, saying how it was the perfect name ever.

His mornings suddenly became impossibly sweeter, something he hadn't expected since he had moved back in this childhood home with Y/n.

A few days ago, when he had laid his eyes on the bundle of sunshine for the very first time ever, a huge piece of his heart, if not his entire heart, had been taken right then and there. 

Sighing, Harry got up very carefully, wary of waking up the newborn and then, when he successfully hadn't, laid her on the two person size sofa – all that he could fit in the name of a seat inside his small art studio. 

He had just turned to get back to his awaiting Canvas, when Opal began mumbling. She was talking in her sleep, he realised with a smile growing on his face, making his dimples show up. 

Another piece of his heart was taken then. 

He wondered, each time that she slept, about just what she was dreaming up. On nights, he worried if she wasn't warm enough, wanted her to know that there was a blanket of stars above her – but he knew he could wait until she began talking to do that. 

Even though he couldn't afford the best, he was going to make this work. He was going to be the best father out there, give Opal all of his love, all with Y/n by his side.

Putting back down the paintbrush he had picked up because he couldn't stop thinking of her, Harry walked back over with his stool to sit and watch her. He crossed over the chair, his front against the chair's backrest as he rested his face on his arms, gazing down with a soft smile on his mouth. 

"I can't wait for you to grow up so that we can talk, you know? So, hopefully, you can tell me if this is where you'll always wanna be," he spoke, brushing away the unruly mop curls on her head. 

"And we can go to a place where you look at the light and it splinters," he sighed, moving to cover her up with a blanket. "Where there's plenty of gas in our car to last us the cold, cold winter," tears glazed over his sight, sniffling as he looked at her small figure lull to side as she slept – he almost let slip a chuckle. 

Right then, she took whatever pieces were left of his heart. 

Winter this year wasn't easy, but that wasn't to say that it wasn't the best one aside from the ones he had spent with Y/n. So much financial stress had come with the unplanned pregnancy, and now a baby. But he knew that the both of them could pull through the loans and make it out as a happy and healthy family, if they stuck together. 

Y/n’s dad, a single father, was a little bit bitter about the whole situation but had begrudgingly stepped forward to help out the two with handling the house, seeing as the both of them had to attend college as well as take care of the baby. He dropped off the groceries last weekend, along with the last minute new-born-baby stuff that Y/n had told him they needed. 

Even Anne stepped forward, letting the two of them borrow a room in her house for as long as they needed – likely until they could get back up on their own feet financially.

Currently, as Harry sat feeling overwhelmed with all of the love and other emotions rushing through him, he could hear Anne talking to Y/n down the hall. The walls weren’t the thickest and he could tell that Anne was sharing her own stories with Y/n, telling her about how she’d had Harry at a young age, and more. 

He’d heard it before, had even seen the two of them having this chat. So he knew that Anne, very likely, had Y/n’s head in her lap and brushing her hands through her hair, trying to console the woman high on hormones and the insurmountable number of emotions she must be feeling. 

Wiping away at his nose with the sleeve of his flannel, Harry blinked away the tears and pulled up a smile on his face again, trying to be courageous, for Y/n and their daughter. Because he knew that Y/n was doing the same for them. For the little family they were both going to build slowly and lovingly now.

"But I also want you to be this little forever, so that I can cherish you enough, yes?" He asked her, nodding his head when she mumbled something incoherent, something similar to ‘we’ll be fine, dada', Harry wanted to believe. 

And unable to help himself, he picked her up again, holding her flush against his exposed torso because he didn’t have the energy to button up his shirt and the skin to skin contact made breathing a little easier. 

"I'll love you tenderly," he whispered, pressing a kiss on her forehead. "I'll love you forever, and more, little pumpkin." 

[surftrips]

CROSS YOUR HEART AND HOPE TO DIE

pairing: young coriolanus snow x reader

word count: 600+

summary: based on "follow you" by bring me the horizon. young/slightly ooc coriolanus snow finds comfort in y/n's arms.

a/n: yeah, i can't believe i'm returing from my hiatus with a coriolanus snow x reader fic, but here we are. please feel free to send in prompts/requests with him though ;)

"Because I don't want to fucking hurt you.” Coriolanus snapped. "God, half the time, I'm scared I could break you, even though I'm doing everything I can to hold back."

Your boyfriend was having a hard time lately. The anniversary of his father's death was creeping up and you knew he was having those thoughts again.

He had confided in you early on in your relationship his two biggest fears: losing you, and turning into his father. Now, he was spiraling with thoughts of both happening.

"Talk to me," you said, trying to reassure him. The two of you were by the lake, entangled in each other's arms on a blanket.

"I- I just..." he was trying to catch his breath. "I'm so angry all the time and you, you're an angel. You've never done anything wrong in your life. I don't deserve you, I don't know how to not fuck this up."

You couldn't help but smile at his name for you, reaching out to caress his cheek. He leaned into your familiar touch, one of the few things that could calm him down when he was like this.

It was true, he did get mad at the smallest things. Just last week, he got jealous of Sejanus for holding up your skirt as you went down the stairs, even though the two of you were clearly just friends.

And yesterday, he was frustrated with something that happened during training and came back to the cabin furious. You had asked him how his day was, like usual, and he had snapped at you.

"It was bad. Do you have to ask me that everyday?" he retorted, knocking over the items on the shelf closest to him.

But even though he got jealous or angry sometimes, you knew that he was working on it. He always felt awful afterward, and always made sure that you knew how sorry he was. That night, he had drawn a bath for you and even added some wild lavender he found near the water.

"Hey, you know I love you, right?" you said.

He sat up slightly to make better eye contact with you, "I do. But what if that's not enough?"

You frowned, "My love isn't?"

"No, no. I meant what if love, in general, is not enough? What if that's not enough to change my fate? Y/N, you know about my father, he was awful."

"I know, Coryo," you sighed. "But I also know you, and you're a good person. You love me, you love the Covey. You care about me, and your family. You want to be good, and I think that is enough."

Still, he didn't seem convinced. "I hate that I can barely remember him anymore, but he's still haunting me. The rebels that killed him haunt me. What if that happens to me?"

"Stop. No one here is going to do that, they know you're on our side. Don't you see? You're trying so hard to not be like your father, but you don't have to try to be good. You just are, deep-down in here," you pointed to where his heart is. "You are."

He leaned down now to pull you into a kiss. "Angel, can you promise me something?"

"What is it?"

"Promise me you'll never leave my side."

"Coryo, you could drag me through hell if it meant I could hold your hand. I will follow you to the ends of the earth. We're in this together."

That seemed to please him, finally. He wrapped his arms tighter around you and pulled you to lay back down with him. The two of you stared up at the stars, each silently wishing for this to work out.

[sanctus-ingenium]

we need to talk about Inprnt.com

Following a really good post with more screenshots and evidence by @dynasoar5 i'm going to talk about my own experiences with @inprnt and why I am about to put my shop on indefinite hiatus from Monday the 14th of August.

First of all I'll say that since starting my print shop last year it has been a significant help to me financially - I was able to not worry about affording car insurance or motor tax (together commonly over a thousand euro) when I bought my first car, for example. I am immeasurably grateful to anyone who chose to buy one and I treasure all the pictures I've been sent of my prints hanging up on people's walls. Right now they are displayed in a real (if small) art exhibition in my home town.

(top right print is not from inprnt though)

They're great prints. Never had any complaints about them. But here's what's going on behind the scenes.

Earlier this year, around March or April, Inprnt sales started increasing in regularity. I'd made as much as $600 a week during previous sales when I made proper promo posts here, but with this increase in regularity, I felt that I couldn't make promo posts every single week. And then one day, I'm not sure when tbh, the sale just never ended. It just didn't stop having that "Ending soon! 15% off your order" banner at the top of the site. Right now it says "Final Hours: $5 Worldwide shipping and save up to 35% off your order!" and not even for a second do I believe in this final hours bullshit. It's been 'final hours' for weeks now. Months, even.

Why is this a problem? Well, how tf am I meant to make a promo post for a sale that is always "ending soon!!" and then never ends. One week it'll say "this weekend only!!" and then when the weekend is over, the sale banner just changes its wording and the sale doesn't end. I can't promo this, it makes me look like a liar and a skeevy salesman by association! It makes the site look like it's 1 week from crashing and burning, and the site owners are just scrabbling to suck as much money from artists as possible before they drown.

And they are sucking money from us. To peel back the curtain, Inprnt money can only be transferred to my paypal account 30 days after the sale is made, just in case the order is cancelled and refunded. This means I used to make one withdrawal every couple of months, when there was enough build-up of money to make it worthwhile. It also forbids withdrawing any sum under $50 btw. I would make a withdrawal request and then, after a 10 business day wait, it would reach my Paypal account.

Not anymore! The past few withdrawals have taken over a month to complete. They are straight up keeping my earnings from me for longer the agreed period. This was my last fulfilled withdrawal:

Note the date.

Almost two months.

And here is the latest withdrawal request that still has not been fulfilled.

It's coming up on 1 month and if the pattern continues, it could literally be November or December by the time I fully clear all sales.

So what's going to happen to my print shop? Because my art is currently being exhibited with a QR code linking to the shop, I can't close the shop this week. Instead I will close it on Monday the 14th of August, next week. That means that on the 14th of September, I can withdraw all of the remaining money without having any left over. My account balance will go to 0 and stay there. Although I'll de-list my prints I will leave my account there, because at the end of the day I don't want to leave Inprnt. It still offers the best artist margins and as I'm now unemployed after graduating, the additional support is such a load off my mind. So this is a chance to wait and see - if they improve their services, I'll happily re-open.

It's a big deal to me because selling prints is sort of my ideal life as an artist. I never had the attention span or self-discipline for commission work and I found that it left me creatively stagnant. I always want to try new things, new concepts and ideas, and being able to think "yeah, people will like this as a print" while I experiment is honestly very reassuring. And I know that in going on hiatus, it'll break a lot of "buy a print" links in my circulating posts. Oh well lmao. If you want to buy a print right now - go ahead, it might be your last opportunity. Another way to support me would be to check out my ko-fi for once-off donations or some nice sketchbooks/comics/book samples you can buy, or subscribing to my Patreon.

As of right now, Inprnt owes me $381 (the unfulfilled request submitted above for $186.60 and my current standing balance of $194.80 which takes 30 days from each transaction to clear).

[svndaysaweek]

Niche — {Feat. Hanni}

4.5k words

A/N: Guess who’s back! I’ve returned, from 5 months of hiatus, with a long-waited Hanni fic. This was written when @kaedespicelatte was a total Hanni stan, but idk if he still is doing that… Anyways, please enjoy this spin-off of my Academia series. This time is about a bit about philosophy and love itself. Eternal gratitude to @usedpidemo for editing and polishing this one!

******

"Three, two, one!"

With a cute pout, Hanni, sitting across the table opposite to you, blows the gentle fire off all nine birthday candles. She looks so happy as you can read under the dimly lit dark orange dining room. A proud smile stretches wide across your face.

"Can't believe you're already this big, Hanni. This is for you."

You hand Hanni a small wine-red box, and with a surprised smile she brings it in front of her.

"What's this, oppa?"

"Open it,"

With a silent click the box opens, presenting a thin golden necklace with the letter 'H' in cursive hanging. Touched by your gift, Hanni lets out a long, surprised gasp before she looks up again at you, looking adorable.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it! What does this 'H' mean, oppa?"

"It could mean anything, Hanni. Happiness, hope, heart, and of course your name, Hanni."

Hanni stares at the letter on the necklace for a while with deep deliberation in her eyes. You watch her with a twinkle in your own eyes. She then looks back at you with a certain decision already made up.

"I'll just put all of them in this necklace, oppa. Hope, heart, happiness, and my name… They all are priceless when you say them."

You want to squeeze her in your embrace, only to be denied by the table separating you two. Happiness, hope, heart—and her name, Hanni. They all mean the same to you. She has been your happiness since the day you were adopted to her family. Your opaque, cloudy, uncertain future was given hope by her presence in your life. And heart–

"Heart, oppa. Do you know what the ancient Greeks thought of the heart?"

You shake your head.

"No."

Hearing your response, Hanni softly intertwines your hands together with hers. The cold necklace is handed into your palm.

"Can you put this on my neck?"

You rise from your chair and walk around the table to her, doing what she asked. Hanni rises from her seat too, facing your collarbones due to her height. She lets her hands softly rest on your shoulders, which you freely allow.

"They thought the heart of human beings contained their own souls within it."

You finish clasping her necklace around her neck. Looking down at her, she seems very shy and nervous. One of Hanni's hands trails down to the middle of your chest, where your heart is set alight, beating with an increasing rate because of her sudden but sensitive touch.

"I think your heart does. I can feel it."

For a moment, you lose grip on your consciousness and fall into her, but no.

"What are you doing, Hanni?"

You ask her as calmly and kindly as possible, not wanting to offend her even by the least. You feel so warm and so loved, but still, you are embarrassed and a little shy by the sudden touch on your body from Hanni. Nevertheless, she doesn't back up from where you are right now, as if she completely expected this to happen.

"You know, oppa, when somebody loves someone, the person can feel the soul of someone he or she is in love with."

You feel your heart beating faster and faster, as if responding to every word she says—as if her lips contain the spark that makes your heart burn brighter and hotter with each passing second.

Hanni's other hand finds one of yours and brings it to your chest, drumming fast to the point you’re certain your heart will explode. Your face is no different at all, furiously burning in front of her and throbbing to your crazy heartbeat.

"Which means, I love you."

Oh.

By now, you already knew it was coming, but when you hear it spoken from her divine lips you're struck silent—not that you haven't been speechless so far, and that's because you are not ready for it. Your heart is now merely seconds away from bursting out of your chest, beating wildly against Hanni's palm.

"H-Hanni…"

Not listening to your stuttering, she places your hand on her chest and slightly pushes it into her chest.

"Can you feel it too, oppa? My heart—it has been beating for you since the day I met you. My soul has always been yours, oppa."

You look up from your hand on Hanni's chest to her twinkling eyes; hers have never left contact with yours almost all night long.

"I-I can feel it, Hanni… But this is–"

When you say 'but,' Hanni's eyebrows curl into a frown, and it crushes your heart into pieces. She didn't confess her love sincerely only to hear rejection from you.

This setting—where you are in love with your step sister—might sound a little bit wrong, but now, in front of Hanni, even questioning if it's right or wrong is the most wrong thing possible.

Well, even the strict Nietzsche was in love with his sister.

"Hanni."

You, with your warmest tone, call her name with a solid decision in your voice.

"Yes…?"

Hanni, however, murmurs back, tone disappointed, assuming you are trying to reconfirm your rejection. You have to, given the circumstances, but this time, you break the rules set throughout history—from Epicure to Sartre, reason has to precede instinct. But love—it gives the human mind amazing power and growth. And at this moment you wholeheartedly believe that with love fueling your heart, any rules against it can be buried beside all those “reasonable” thinkers, and that you are the one with the spade. It is okay even if it’s just a blind mistake.

Because it sure will be the most beautiful mistake of the human mind.

"I love you too, Hanni."

Your words land directly through her ears, and they travel straight down to her heart, even before her brain processes them. Love—it's the only language in which the souls can communicate. Straight from your heart and into hers, and they both react wildly, unable to ignore their deepest desires.

Surprised, Hanni swiftly looks up at you, eyes gleaming with tears. Her lips part, but not a syllable comes out, before–

"Oppa–"

You don't have to say a word, Hanni.

Your love has already done more than enough.

And right now, you speak to her soul with your lips.

You kiss her parted lips, sealing the gap perfectly. Your hand remains on her chest, you feel her heart beating even faster as if shaking you off. The same is true on your side.

A few seconds of liplock is enough for your soul to express love to hers, but as soon as you pull back from them, Hanni cups your face with her warm hands to fulfill the paused act of pure love. Your hands slowly climb up to her shoulders, to her soft, pulsing neck, and finally to her blushed, warm cheeks.

Who said following the essence of instincts is not humanly? 

Who thought the instant impulses would never create long lasting happiness?

Your love for Hanni and hers toward you defies that right in the face, as you detach from the kiss and peck her palm on your cheek, never losing eye contact with her.

Happiness is reached when one overcomes resistance. Nietzsche was right about it, and he himself did overcome the obstacles and fell in love with his sister to prove that.

Forget about everything tonight. Let the love lead you. It can't hurt deeper than where your love is springing from.

Hanni pulls your hand to her chest again, but this time you feel something different. Her fingers delicately slide down on your shirt, from your chest to where your belly is. Hanni pushes your hand on her chest deeper to make you feel the softness of her breasts, and her other hand on you stops.

"I want you to feel more than my heart tonight, oppa. And I want to feel more than your soul too."

It's a question and a permission at the same time—a question asking for deeper, thicker love, and a permission to develop the love between to the next level, which you can't—and won’t—say no to.

At this point, you feel like you could happily stop loving her if she tells you to, if that makes her happy. But what stops now is your reason and rationality, which have been vulnerable throughout the night.

"Aah–mmmph,"

You softly squeeze her petite breast, inhaling her cute but deep moan right from her mouth, sealing its exit not to let a single strand escape.

Love makes a person grow.

But the only thing growing because of love is the bulge behind your clothes, aching to be unleashed. Hanni sneaks a hand under your shirt to touch your bare abs, chest, and back. Sensing the physical form of love flowing from her warm fingers through your skin, you briefly leave her lips and quickly get rid of your shirt. You see Hanni's glistening lips needily follow your head pulling back and grin at how adorable your little girl is.

Hanni then tries to get out of her own clothes, but you stop her arms from reaching the hem of her sweater and place her arms around your neck. Looking at your eyes with a piercing glare, Hanni crushes her lips on yours again, and you lift her by her legs and head to the bedroom.

Gently setting Hanni down on the mattress, you undress her. Shirt first, then the pants follow. Afterward, you give yourself a few seconds to admire the beautiful sculpture lying in front of you, showing off her bare, fair skin. Brushing your thumb on her midriff, you dive into her neck, then descend to her collarbone, shoulders and upper chest, to let Hanni relax and react to your sexual actions.

Not letting a second go to waste, she responds, arching her back at your most sensitive and stimulating touches before unclasping her own bra. At the sight of her exposed breasts you can’t waste a moment to dive in and softly peck her creamy skin, making her moan lightly. To prepare Hanni for what you’re about to do tonight, you ramp up the stimuli by touching and sucking on her nipples.

"I-I love it, oppa. Do you–haa, love them too…?"

Hanni's arms reach around your back and smoothly wander across your skin. Having showered enough love and lust on her breasts, you pull back from them.

"I do, Hanni."

You fucking love them, but profanities are the least things you want to say to your–

"Fuck…!"

Your fingers are barely touching her soaked panties, yet she lets out a thin moan. Not having seen someone this sensitive, you worry for her, whether she feels uncomfortable or not.

"Are you okay, Hanni?"

You look at Hanni with utmost concern, but she's blushing, covering her own mouth with a loose fist. Instead of answering your question, she confesses to you for the second time tonight.

"Oppa… Th-this is my first time having sex, so go easy on me please,”

“Oh, of course, baby. Just relax, it won’t hurt.”

In contrast to your comforting words, her body remains tense as your tongue makes its way down from her breasts, belly, to her hot crotch. Every squirm she makes indicates the level of her anticipation for how good you will feel between her legs. Her hands softly land on your busy head, relaxing when you pause for a second, your head resting right above her wet spot.

"Hanni, you're wet."

Your teasing words do work. Hanni above your view blushes and bites her bottom lip.

"Oppa, I-I need you to–hnng…!"

You can tell she's loosening up little by little, so you carefully touch her drenched core past the soaked fabric. Slowly going soft and smooth at her most sensitive point, you look up at her face to check if she's fine, only to be met by the newfound pleasure on her disfigured features: the bitten bottom lip, tightly shut eyes, burning cheeks, and mouth covered by the back of her hand.

All of them saying—I'm enjoying this, oppa. I'm loving it. Please–

"Please. Go on."

You give her an assuring smile and dive right in, tongue first. You peck on her wet underwear, immediately sending Hanni's body into overdrive. She squirms, whether intended or not, pushing her crotch into your diligent mouth.

Hanni's mouth, too, is diligent, letting indistinguishable moans free continuously, even at your slightest touches. Your both hands gently massage her slender thighs, while spreading them apart at the same time. Gradually your hands travel closer to the waistband of her underwear, before tugging your fingers under it and sliding it down her smooth legs.

You toss it on the floor, keeping your eyes fixated on her bare crotch and soaked pussy.

You hate it. You never wanted to use such a filthy word on Hanni. But when you actually say it, it's far from dirty—it's beautiful, it's lovely, it's perfect.

Without saying another word you dive in, pouring all your senses on your tongue. You look up again to see how Hanni reacts, and her shaking eyes firmly close when the first divine contact is made.

“Ahh…!"

She yelps—not too loud, but just enough for you to know that she feels so good. Up and down, left to right and then quickly circling around her sweet spot that has been left untouched, virgin–

"I-It's amazing, oppa. You don't know how many times I touched myself imagining this–oh my-oh my god!"

You interrupt her with your middle finger entering her leaking and contracting hole, because you don't want to hear that. Hanni to you has been a pure little girl, the one to be protected from such a sin—not the one moaning words about it, even when you’re committing such a grave act.

Hanni tightly grabs your other hand on her thigh, bringing it on the mattress next to her shaking body which makes Hanni look like she's humping on your mouth and finger. 

Every slight curl of your finger and flick of your tongue confines you deeper inside Hanni's warmth—her hand desperately strengthens its hold, her thighs trap your head in between her legs, and the vulnerable tightness of her pussy firmly hugs your finger.

You can feel your dick furiously bulging behind your pants and boxers, aching to have a piece of her too, but that's not the top priority. In front of you is a squirming, moaning, helpless little girl whose entire body is depending on you.

Suddenly Hanni brings your hand to her perky breast, softly pushing it against her mound. Surprised, you look up and your eyes are met with hers, which, a few moments ago, were filled with love. Now you see the evolved form of love in her eyes—lust. But it's only for a short moment, because her approaching orgasm spreads all over her body, preparing for the inevitable explosion.

It was certainly a short moment, but Hanni's gleaming eyes were more than enough to tell you what she wants—what she needs. You squeeze her breast, upping the ante on your tongue and finger. Noticing your effort, Hanni changes her grip on your hand to intertwine your fingers with hers together.

Every part of her body contracts and quivers, completely engulfed by pleasure; relentless leakage of her juice, shallow breaths, and ecstatic scream seeping out of her bitten lip successfully substitute for "I'm going to cum." Fueled by her lewd sound, you double the pace and soon enough, she comes undone.

"Fuck, oppa!"

You keep your tongue and finger working deep through her orgasm, devouring her pure high with such a dirty slurping sound.

Love can be viewed as just a survival mechanism for human beings to reproduce, but when you feel the essence of it, share the true taste of it, it will be the only way to define each other. Hanni is your love, and you are Hanni's love.

Right now is the complete extent of love between you two, in its purest physical form—the most basic form, and the very destination of it at the same time.

Hanni slowly winds down from her orgasm, still breathing heavily, with the happiest smile etched on her lips. She sits up, then gently caresses your bare shoulder and chest. Her delicate touches squeeze your heart, and your dick is the furthest from easing down.

Grabbing her hand pressed on your chest, you kiss its palm and the back of it imbued with love. Putting that hand behind your neck, Hanni forces your body atop hers, closing whatever distance left that keeps you apart. Her eyes gaze at your lips, and so do you at hers, which smoothly leads to a deep kiss. With one arm supporting your body above her you try to undo your pants. Hanni's both hands slide down your bare upper body to help you dispose of those annoying pants. Right after then she succeeds in helping you pull them down, to make yourself finally naked.

Hearing the sound of your clothes being tossed on the floor, Hanni detaches from the kiss, to take a look at your newly exposed dick. 

"That's… That's bigger than I thought."

Her face blushes even brighter, which you thought was impossible. An unhidden smile curls her lips, concealed by her digging teeth.

How can a person look so innocent and sly at the same time? The cute, shy version of Hanni is long gone, taken away by the sexual tension and the first orgasm done by someone else. On top of that, your exposed body is making it more profound, resulting in Hanni unconsciously taking her hand to your cock.

"I-It's hard and… and warm, oppa."

You can only moan at her sensitive touch on your cock, wildly throbbing and leaking.

"H-Hanni… It's–"

Hanni again interrupts you, but this time with unholy intent.

"Is it because of me, oppa? Is it for me?"

Stop it.

No, don't you stop. You are enjoying this as confused as you are. 

Hanni, once underneath you, flips you onto the bed next to her and prepares to ride you out. There's no sign of innocence on her face now. She stares you down with an anticipatory, excited grin with those piercing eyes shooting straight into yours.

"Hanni, are you sure about this? We can slow down or–"

"I am, oppa. You've done enough for me tonight. For my whole life, too. Why don't you let me show you how big I've grown up?"

This is it. This is what she has been wanting to show you—to show you that she's not just a little girl anymore, that she has grown big enough to love you.

That you don't have to feel guilty at all for loving her back.

Again, love makes people grow.

Now you see the difference. She is independent, confident, lady-like and mature. Every attribute you're obsessed with is on full display. 

She’s blossoming right before your eyes.

"Hanni–"

You try to sit up and kiss her, but the Hanni atop you is no longer passive and shy about receiving kisses from you. She can express how she feels, and she can lead the way herself.

"I love you, oppa."

Hanni pushes you back down on the mattress, then crushes her lips on yours. You can’t help but reciprocate with your tongue, while your arms hastily wander on the silky skin of her back and descend to the bottom.

"Why don't you put it in? I'm soaking wet for you.”

Those words don't sound sinfully wrong anymore, but still they send novel sensations down your spine.

You rub your hard dick on her wetness to prepare for the penetration. As if emphasizing that this is her first, Hanni, just at the briefest touch on her sensitive entrance, moans vulnerably and hugs your neck tightly.

"You've grown up, Hanni. That's true."

Still dangling from the edge, Hanni manages to reply, but it's merely an orgasmic shout.

"Yes, opp–Ahh, nnngh!"

As you push the head of your cock in, Hanni screams loudly as if she wants the whole universe to know how much she loves it, but the flooding pleasure of the first sex proves to be so overwhelming, so her nails dig into your back skin, and her teeth also make their mark on your shoulder, as if to inject her suppressed erotic moans into your pulsing veins.

"But you're still my little girl, baby."

Hanni quickly nods at your declaration, pleading for more. You don't want to hurt her, so you keep it slow, trying your best to make the experience comfortable for Hanni.

Yes, she has already proven herself right, and you can accept that, but you just can't go wild on such a weak girl. So weak and soft that if you make even a slightly deep, hard thrust, she'd break.

Slowly, slowly. You're halfway inside Hanni and she seems to have adjusted a bit. It's agonizing for you that you only have to explore her inside like this.

Just then, without warning Hanni sinks down swiftly, forcing sharp gasps from your lungs out of unexpected sensation.

"F-Fuck, Hanni that's…!"

"Nnngh…!"

You are now fully inside her, completely hugged tightly by her violently contracting walls. Hanni's entire body also is wildly reacting to her pussy being filled up to the hilt.

"Are you okay, Hanni?"

"Haa, haa, th-that's deep, oppa…"

You tilt your head a little and whisper in her ear.

"I'm going to move, okay? Tell me when it hurts, baby. I'll stop."

"I'm-I'm okay, oppa. I love it."

Her words hit your shoulder with her hot breaths and are shattered at the edge.

You carefully pull back from her pussy, leaving only half of your cock inside. With your both hands firm on her cheeks below, you gently slip back in and press contact with her sensitive cervix again.

"I-I can't wait, oppa, just fuck me. I'm alright, so don't worry about me and make love to me."

Hearing that, you flip your bodies over and put your hands at each side next to her head. Hanni never lets go of her embrace, looking at you nervously and excitedly. You swipe her glistening lips with your thumb before meeting them with yours, tongue first.

As soon as your lips make holy contact, you start pistoning in her cunt, forcing moans out of her mouth and straight into yours. With one hand supporting your body, your other hand trails down her body. You stay at her taut nipple and perfect mound for a while, playing with it before continuing your journey downward.

To her side, her belly, tummy, and lastly arriving at her hot crotch. Your thumb again draws a loud moan out of her when it touches her clit. Pleasure from her clit triples the pleasure of your consistent thrusts in and out of her pussy.

"I-I think I'm close, oppa."

It only means that you have to ramp up the pace, so you do. Sensing the increased tempo, Hanni bites your lower lip, desperate to find an outlet for the tension from the unbearable pleasure coursing through her body.

"You're going to make me cum, oppa. Please make me cum, make me cum hard on you, please…!"

Still biting on your lip she begs, and with passionate love you make your thrusts even harder to fulfill her desire. Hanni's walls convulse, and every deep thrust makes her back rise bit by bit, until her belly meets yours.

"Mmmph! Oppa–Ahh…!"

When Hanni peaks you don't stop, fucking her through her orgasm. With every thrust you make sure Hanni's cumming hard. You make sure she's feeling good and loving every single second.

"I l-love it, oppa! Just like that…!"

There's no slowing down, when your own high is right ahead of you, a stone’s throw away. There's never coming down for Hanni when your fucking only gets harder.

"Hanni, baby, I'm close."

With an orgasmic frown on her brows contradicting her satisfied smile on her lips, she says, "Oppa, it's your turn to feel good. Let me make you cum, so don't you dare slow down."

"Where do you want me to finish, Hanni?"

"I-Inside, oppa. I'm on pills. Give me all your love."

You can't believe this is her first time, but you can certainly believe in love, turning your thrusts that are after your orgasm into motions of love. Hanni looks at you, while you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. Still, you manage to meet her halfway, even at the very moment when you are–

"I'm cumming…!"

Looking right into her eyes, you let the pleasure overpower you. Stuck deep inside her pussy, you release your cum. Your neck gives in, and your foreheads kiss.

"Yes, inside me… I've been wanting this so much…"

This is one of the highest highs you've ever felt, and it never lets you go soon. You really want to say 'I love you’ to Hanni, but the aftershock of sex leaves you devoid of strength, you can't do anything but breathe heavily on her face.

"I loved it, oppa. Thank you for being my first. I love you."

You give her a peck.

"I love you so much, Hanni. I'm so happy that you're here for me. I'm so happy that you're the one that loves me."

Strength regained, you reply. Then you give her another quick peck.

With lust washed away, there's only love left in her eyes. Hanni’s smile never leaves her face, even when you pull out and lie beside her.

"Hanni," Out of curiosity you ask her. "How are you on pills…? Oh, is that–"

Hanni giggles.

"Yes, oppa. I've been planning this for weeks. Thank god you liked it!"

"I loved it, Hanni."

You put your lazy hand on her midriff, and her hand rests atop your hand on her glistening belly.

"You're sweaty, baby. Let's wash ourselves."

You carry her to the bathroom, and Hanni lets out a cute, excited yelp as you lift her up.

******

After the shower, you two are lying on the bed, facing each other and looking at each other, without any words.

"Oppa."

"Mhmm?"

You raise your brows.

"I really really love you."

You giggle at how adorable your little girl is, like always. But the adorableness you sense now resonates even deeper in your heart, and the reason is for all the universe to know—with the big difference you two have made tonight, you won’t view Hanni Pham in a way like never before. But that’s nothing to lament on, of course, rather a perfect example of happiness and love.

"Love you too."

Whether straight through a shortcut or some other way around, Hanni, once your step sister, and now, your lover, has found the perfect place to be. Where she belongs.

Hanni has found herself the niche.

She comes into your arms, buries her face on your chest.

Yes. In your arms, she's perfect here, inside your warm, loving embrace.

"Good night, oppa."

She muffles her words on your shirt. You kiss her head and muffle back sweetly.

"Happy birthday, Hanni."